#and I don't think she's see it the same way

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Warm Us Up

Natasha X Reader 18+

Summary- After a mission gone wrong, you and Natasha are left stranded in a safe house with nothing but a small fire to try and keep you warm, leading you two to resort to sharing body heat to not freeze to death.

Warnings/Tags: Smut 18+ MDNI- Hate/Love, Sexual tension, Resolved sexual tension, Naked cuddling, Dom/Sub, Oral Sex, Fingering

This is an old fic I found from my ao3 so the writing quality isn't that good, apologies but I don't have the time to improve it.

General Master List

W/c- 2.1k

“Fuck,” you growled as you and Natasha walked into the safe house in the middle of nowhere. You and Natasha had been paired for a mission in Siberia even though you didn’t get along meaning that when everything went to shit, as in went to absolute shit, you were left in the extreme climates to fend for your lives. Luckily there was a safe house only a few miles walk from where you were so you both walked in a tense silence throughout the snow.

“Why are you so angry? You’re the one who fucked the mission up,” she snapped at you while u saw a fire place.

“Me?” you shouted back, “I’m sorry but if I didn’t have to save your arse none of this would have happened!” You quickly made a fire with the wood that was left in the cabin and went in search for something to heat you up. Walking through the cold and wet had left you both in soaked suits in freezing climates. Thankfully you had super-soldier serum in your blood meaning you weren’t as cold but that didn’t mean Natasha wasn’t.

“I didn’t needed saving and you made a stupid move!” she screamed back while shivering at the fire place. You searched the cabin while she continued to yell at you and found three large sheets that could warm you up.

“Take your clothes off,” you said making her look at you with an annoyed look.

“Excuse me?” she growled.

“You’re clothes are soaked meaning if you stay in them you will most likely get a bad case of hypothermia and as much as I hate you I don’t need the team on my back for letting you die.” You state while throwing her two of the sheets. “Take them off and put them in front of the fire so they can dry. I’ll do the same but in another room. Call me when you’re done.” She huffed at your commands but listened anyway and quickly stripped herself of the wet clothing leaving her naked in the sheets wrapped around her body. After a few minutes she called you in and you walked with the sheet wrapped around you. You didn’t really think it through when you gave her the sheets as you accidently left yourself the smallest one meaning it just about covered your body.

“So what now?” she asked as you sat near her in front of the fire. Natasha couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering around the skin she could see. Your body was extremely toned due to the intense training you would do every day and she could see the muscles in your back moving as you shivered. She was extremely grateful you gave her more sheets as she was still cold in this but not as cold as you would be.

“Warm up and then try and find a way to get in contact with anyone,” you said and she didn’t miss the way your voice wavered due to how cold you were. Despite having the serum even your body couldn’t deal with low your body temperature was making you shiver uncontrollably.

“Come here,” the spy said and you slowly looked at her.

“What?”

“Come here we can share body heat and use the sheets to stay warm,” she said while watching your body tremble.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you manage out and she answers you by moving in between your legs and settling her body there. She takes one sheet off her self and throws it around your shoulders making the other sheet drop lower and oh.

“Uh Natasha,” you stutter out while she kneels in front of you making sure the sheet is around your bare skin.

“What?” You look at her and she sees the blush on your face before looking down at herself. “Oh,” she says before quickly fixing the sheet and turning so she can sit and rest back against you. You awkwardly keep your arms by your side as you don’t want to make her uncomfortable. You only hated her because she was a total bitch to you when you first arrived and it made you feel worthless. You had the stupidest crush on her and wanted her to approve of you but that never happened so you just learnt to ignore her remarks. You didn’t want to admit your feelings to her because you didn’t even talk to her so how could you possibly feel anything for her? You tensed behind her when she wriggled backwards so her back was fully flush with your front and her backside flush with your core. You stifled a groan at the contact as you had one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen naked in front of you. “What’s wrong?” she asked at your sudden stiffness.

“Nothing,” you breathed out against her neck and she shivered at the feeling. Natasha had to stop herself from breaking. She only pushed you away because she was scared of her feelings and attraction to you. So being here with you was making her extremely wet and she couldn’t stop the little noise that left her lips when your breath touched the bare skin.

“Can I move your arms?” she asked while moving hers hands to hold yours. She felt the slightly raised skin of a scar on your forearm while she waited for your response.

“Yeah sure,” you whispered out. She guides your arms to wrap around her middle. If anyone was too see you both like this they would assume you were lovers wrapped up in the sheets naked by a fire like in some romantic film but that was not the case.

“You know I never thought you would be a cuddler,” you tease, your hot breath making her body feel hot under your touch.

“Well I’m trying not to freeze to death,” she says while turning her head to look at you. Unconsciously you glance at her lips then her eyes which seemed to have dilated.

“I can think of a way to warm us up,” you say while staring at her lips. The next thing you know your on your back with Natasha pressing her lips against yours. She moans into the kiss and moves to straddle you, the sheets falling off both of your bodies. You both groan into each other’s mouth as her bare pussy makes contacts with yours. You move to sit up and grab onto her ass making her sigh against your lips. You break away from the kiss panting for air and you move one hand to move the hair out of her face. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” you rasp out while watching her face for any sort of uncertainty. She threads her fingers into your hair and pulls your back in for a bruising kiss. You move her so her hips straddle one of your toned thighs so she can grind along it.

“Oh fuck,” she moans as you guide her hips along your leg, her clit rubbing against your thigh and her wetness now dripping down the side of it. You break away from her lips to pepper open mouthed kisses along her jaw and neck before sucking hard. Her breath hitches as you suck a mark into her skin and you cant help but chuckle against her skin. You move your kisses further down and take a breast into your mouth while moving one hand off her backside to cup the other breast. You lick and suck one of them while rolling and pinching the nipple on the other before switching to pay them both equal attention. Her hips are starting to buck more wildly and you take that as a sign that she’s close.

“Do you want to come for me?” you murmur at the top of her breasts while a hand moves to rub at her clit.

“Please,” she whimpers while riding your thigh, her hands tugging your face back up to her. “I’m so close please,” she whined against your lips.

“Be a good girl and come for me,” you purred out before crashing your lips to muffle the scream that left her lips. Her hips stuttered as she came on your leg, the wetness now completely coating your thigh. You helped her ride out her high and placed gentle kisses along her jaw and neck while she recovered.

“Still cold?” you tease and she lets out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah actually,” she jokes back and moves her hips so she’s straddling your waist. Your hand slips through her soaked folds and the moan that leaves her lips will forever stay in your brain. You easily slip a finger into her and her hips start to roll and grind on your hand. You return your attention to her breasts while her hands made her way to your shoulders and back. “Fuck Y/n,” she moans as you slip another finger into her core and she tightens around you.

“Fuck you’re so hot when you moan my name,” you groan before biting a mark in the valley of her breasts. You increase the pace your thrusting your fingers in and she moans and whimpers above you as she gets near another orgasm. “You’re so tight,” you murmur while moving to kiss her lips again. You move your thumb to rub circles on her clit sending her over the edge once again. She lets out a string of moans against your lips as she rides out her high. When she’s ready you pull out of her and bring your fingers to your mouth. She watches you with a hunger in her eyes as you lick off the cum on your fingers and moan around your digits. “You taste delicious,” you say before she crashes her lips back onto yours for a feral kiss. She moans when she tastes herself on your lips and pulls away panting for air.

“I think someone else needs to be warmed up,” she says while pushing you so your back is on the floor. She crawls down your body leaving kisses and bites everywhere she could. You groaned when she took a nipple into her mouth and sucked lightly on it, teasing you, before moving to the other. You moved your hands to tangle in her fiery locks and pulled her away from your chest and back for a kiss.

“No teasing,” your tone warning and she quickly listened by running a finger through your dripping folds. You leaned forwards to kiss her and moaned into her mouth when she slipped a finger in. She quickly added another finger and pulled away from your lips to move her head lower. You were already a moaning mess beneath her as she thrusted her fingers in and out of you but when she kitten licked your clit you were fucked. You arched your back at the feeling as she licked and sucked in your clit while increasing the pace of her fingers. It didn’t take long for you to tense and fall over the edge. You came with a guttural moan and she carried on until the aftershocks of your orgasm had finished. She swiftly made her way back up your body and kissed you making you groan at the taste of yourself on her tongue. You wrapped your arm around her and pulled the sheets up so they were covering you both.

“You ok?” you breathlessly asked.

“Yeah just tired,” she mumbled against your chest. You held her close as you both drifted off to sleep.

The next morning you woke up with Natasha fast asleep on top of you and you smiled down at her. You managed to slip out from under her and tucked the sheets around her before grabbing your now dry clothes and putting them on. You searched the safe house for some kind of food and only found some snack bars. You also found out the taps worked and hoped that the water was alright. You went back to see Natasha stir awake and you both ate your ‘amazing’ breakfast in a comfortable silence. Once you had finished you both found a way to communicate with the rest of the team and someone sent the Quinjet to get you.

“I see you didn’t kill each other,” teased Steve who was in the jet.

“Ha ha Rogers,” you sarcastically remarked. While Steve was flying he let the two of you rest after the mission and change into better clothes. What you didn’t expect was for Natasha to come and see you. You felt her presence behind you as she purred into your ear.

“Meet me in my room at 11,” she nibbled on your earlobe before walking away, swaying her hips.

[ghostwitchboy]

My ex would constantly downplay the things I was most excited for when starting hrt. She explained it away as a trauma response to bad experiences in the past. That was fair to a certain degree, they were genuinely traumatic events, and no one can control what becomes a trigger.

But did she need to remind me that she might start associating me with monsters once hrt starts working and changing my voice (because all transmen sound the same to her) EVERY TIME I said I was looking forward to my main source of dysphoria potentially being lessened? Did she need to tack on "Hopefully you'll still be attractive/xyz" whenever I talked about things I was looking forward to in my transition? Did she need to remind me that I might just be stuck being a very pretty, feminine afab person for a very long time and I might just have to be okay with that?

No. Obviously not.

I had thought that, because we were both transitioning, we'd both support each other's transition like we said we did. That she'd hear the awful things she'd say about herself, see all the ways I tried to encourage her and remind her that I loved her for her, not for the man her family wanted her to be, and that we wouldn't be alone in our transitions. But she ended up being the only one who wasn't alone.

I got used to the concept of actual change in my transition being a bad thing, and I got used to it being a sword of damocles very quickly. Something that's really easy with near-constant reminders from literally everyone you talk to daily that you'll never be what they actually want. People who only respect your identity as long as it doesn't make them uncomfortable, as long as they can put caveats and emergency vetos and stops on it.

And then I broke up with her. There were other problems and theose problems had been present for years, and they weren't even tied to gender.

But I suddenly no longer had that very loud, very important voice drowning out mine. I could think. There weren't consequences to me expressing how I felt. I could be myself without caveats.

And then I met my current partner. And they celebrate my transition with me. I remember the first time I apologized for liking the more masculine form my body was starting to take and them reacting with confusion. Because they loved it too. They've been my biggest support and they've not only accepted my transition as a part of me, but help me be actively exited for it. They love parts of me I didn't know were possible to love and all done so immediately and without me begging them to see the virtue in it.

Parts of myself that I have always been self conscious of, they adore, and they do so loudly and with their full chest. I have never been allowed this amount of autonomy before, to the point I don't know what to do when I don't have to triple check before making a decision, which sometimes causes anxiety.

But I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life. I'm the most loved I've ever been in my life.

If you're with a partner and they say they'll leave you if you transition, if you start hrt, if you present your gender a specific way, or if your body changes a certain way, leave.

You deserve to be yourself. You deserve to be happy as yourself. You deserve to be loved as yourself. You deserve nothing less, no caveats, no vetos.

“but my girlfriend said she’d break up with me if I started hrt…” FUCKING LEAVE HER THEN!!

[sydwritess]

Group Chats With Y/n

F1 grid x fem!reader

Summary: texts in the F1 group chat with y/n

Notes: requests are open!

01 02

Y/n Y/l/n has made a group chat

Oscar Piastri changed to Pastry 🥐

Max Verstappen changed to Maxine✨️

Lando Norris changed to Lanlikesfish

George Russell changed to Georgie

Kimi Antonelli changed to Pasta boi

Charles Leclerc changed to Charlie

Lewis Hamilton changed to Roscoe's dad

Yuki Tsunoda changed to Red bull #1

Carlos Sainz changed to Carlos 🌶

Ollie bearman changed to Bear minimum

Alex Albon changed to Alexandria

Daniel Ricciardo changed to Riccardio

------------------------------------------------------

Lanlikesfish

Alright, who made this?

Y/n

The one and only ✨️✨️

Maxine✨️

Well I can see you have favorites.

Y/n

It's okay. If your nice to me I'll change your name 😊

Max

I will change it myself. 😒

Y/n

And I set the setting so you can't. Hehe

Bear minimum

Am I a favorite?

Y/n

Of course, cause your nice 😊😊

Y/n changed 'Bear minimum' to Bearman #1

Bearman #1

Awe thx

Y/n

Ofcc

Pasta boi

I like this name. It's suits me well.

Lanlikesfish

Ugh I hate fish!

Y/n

Haters gonna hate.

Pasta boi

For realll

Georgie

Hater's gonna hate hate hate hate and the players gonna play play play play

Y/n

HAHA WHAT THE FUCK YOU SWIFTIE 😭

Georgie

What can I say?

Pastry🥐

I am no pastry

Y/n

Yes you are. white as a ghost dude

Red bull #1

I like being a favorite. Honeslty guys it's not hard being nice to her. She's nice to 🙂

Y/n

Awe thnx yuki. That's why your my fav. Unlike... others

Lanlikesfish

HOW CAN I BE FAVORITE TIPS AND TRICKS

Roscoe's dad

you guys... i can't believe i ran over a ground hog.... 😪

Charlie

he lived a good life mate

Carlos 🌶

oooo I like my name!! Chile pepper just means i'm spicyy

Y/n

How the fuck did y'all get into F1 y'all are so unserious lmfao

Maxine✨️

I take my job very serious.

Y/n

Oh yeah, because crashing into George on purpose is very very ethical.

Maxine✨️

Yeah because.. I had reasons.

Y/n

Boy can't even think of a straight answer.

Alexandria

Alexandria? Really?

Y/n

Yes. it fits. A vibe

Pasta boi

Might go get some pasta after this premier

Georgie

Funny kimi kardashian

Y/n

OMG THAT IS A BETTER NAME!

Y/n changed Pasta boi to Kimi Kardashian

Kimi Kardashian

Ugh. Not cool

Georgie

I'm quite excited for it actually

Y/n

of course you are.

Georgie

Are you not going?

Y/n. I can't be in the same room as brad.

Maxine✨️

why?

Y/n

He just ruins the movie.. entirely. For me at least

Lanlikesfish

*cough* I agree *cough*

Y/n

FINALLY someone agrees.

Georgie

Really Lando?

Lanlikesfish

look all I'm saying is I don't like that I was only in there for like what, 30 seconds? That's a of a stab to the heart mate.

Roscoe's dad

Yes but the main character is also Brad Pitt for a reason

Landlikesfish

It should have been me. I'm way better looking

Y/n

Okay you narcissist

Landlikesfish

It's all about personality and confidence

Hey loves! Different from what I normally write but I thought it was a unique idea! Comment to be added to the tag list! Requests are open!

[bitofanupsidedowner]

we're past the appropriate rejection window honestly. remember how steve is rejected by robin in the same season he develops feelings for her? or how dustin is symbolically rejected by max in the season he develops feelings for her? that's because it would have been a super weird choice to build it up for a really long time and then end it with a rejection.

there's a reason why in season three when joyce rejects hopper, we all immediately know it isn't a real rejection, even though they're fighting, she's grieving and planning to leave, and he's being unreasonable and unfair. there's reason after reason to think it's not going to happen, but because he's had feelings for her since season one we know it's going somewhere.

who waits on the edge of their seat to watch someone get turned down? who stays subscribed to netflix for that? that kind of thing would not be interesting, it would just be a confusing way to spend the increasingly limited time right before your show ends. penultimate season. every scene has to mean something bigger, all the way down to lucas talking about new coke or mike trying a new kind of pizza.

in writing you primarily only want to wait and build up to things if the result is going to be worth waiting for. rejection of the perpetually tortured gay kid is predictable and doesn't function to do much at all story wise. easy to write around, too, but they did the opposite. they built will's character around this.

they also have no need to dip back into the rejection pool narratively, doesn't add to the story. especially this late into the game. (sidenote, weird how people were not nearly as sure robin was going to be rejected despite her love interest being mirrored to mike, significantly less developed, and introduced so late, but i digress)

if they wanted mike to reject will, it should have been during the van scene. he should have given mike the painting and said something along the lines of, "i know you don't feel the same, but i really want you to know how el sees you, how we all see you. you're the heart. we'd fall apart without you." it would have still been sad but it would have been an ending.

because plotlines need to end! they need to end when it makes sense for them to, not before or after. dragging it along means they either realize they have something worth dragging, or have deliberately decided to prolong a plot point past its logical conclusion for the sole purpose of milking every last second of misery they can out of will, which would be needlessly cruel and so, so gratuitous.

it's not like the van scene NEEDED to happen exactly how it happened. any scene that is solely character driven with no impact on the plot can be rewritten over and over and changed into whatever it has to be. it was written as the most romantic mike moment in any season, and it was filmed and lit and directed extremely specifically. zero accidents.

robin and vickie was unnecessary without a plan. mike and will was unnecessary unless they have a plan.

so they must have a plan. if mike was going to reject will, it had to be in season four. but mike didn't reject will. not at all. he was actually very, very moved by what will had to say, he just didn't entirely realize what it was he was saying.

in fact, they made sure that this plotline was not just unsolved, but that it was obligated to come back, by having it go against the character's most consistent moral line of friends don't lie. and gave it to the character who, in his introductory scene, refuses to lie. dishonesty has genuine ramifications in this show, and will's is attached to a physical (treasured) object that has to come back into play. they can't sweep it under the rug and mike can't reject will without it coming off as... just... far too late.

[sailingintothenight]

"The girl in his eyes." Bob Reynolds Imagine.

(Not my gif but give a prize to the people who make them)

Summary: Time together created feelings in the two of you, until the group tries to get him and you to talk, with John urging Bob to talk about "the girl in his eyes." And that creates a big misunderstanding.

A/N: Just a kind of short imagine (around 4K words) cause I'm new here and I don't want to go on too long and bore you all in case this is boring. I'm sorry if there are any grammatical errors. But something I always knew but I accepted today is that some of us write the kind of love we'd like to receive, right? The kind we sometimes can't find, though other did find, I hope. However, in the meantime, don't forget to love yourself please. As a warning, a little angst(?) but with a happy ending! and the word "drug." I think that's all, thanks!

“Lena, did you see (Y/N)—”

The last letter of your name drops to a whisper as Bob stops in front of the long couch, Yelena’s finger pressed against her own lips to silence him, a potato chip sandwiched between her other two before she pops it into her mouth, the bag in her lap, and her full attention back on the phone in her other hand.

She’s sitting diagonally, her back between the cushion behind her and the armrest, her left knee bent down as it falls off the edge to the floor, but it’s the other one that has Bob pressing his lips together as he films this version of you with his bluest gaze, the memory searing itself into his mind. You’re there, asleep, lying sideways on the comfy, fluffy cushions, part of your head on the outside of Yelena’s thigh, a front strand of your hair now falling over your closed eyelids and the border of your nose.

And it's soft for Bob, that image of you, and overwhelming only in the way it forces him to swallow the lump forming in his throat as his feelings pile up inside.

"You need anything, Bob?" Yelena's pointed gaze moves from the paused TikTok video (a cat staring at the camera, a flashbulb fired in right in its face), chuckling as the animal's expression still lingers in her mind, frozen on her phone—the white feline silhouette and wide–open eyes—and she shows it to him. "Have you watched this video?"

Bob nods, and the sound of him trying to clear his throat (so his words don't falter mid–sentence like he knows they will) accompanies the action.

"Yeah, (Y/N) sent it to me a few days ago."

"It's so funny." She laughs softly, and her full attention returns to the device, finger sliding across the screen after saving it to favorites, bringing another chip to her mouth. “That cat is so silly.”

But like a cry, Bob whimpers softly, the tiniest sound in the silence.

“You’re dropping crumbs in her hair, Lena.”

Yelena stops, her gaze sliding from her phone to him and then back down to you, and her slightly oily hand catches the crispy piece that had gotten caught in the strands.

“Relax, Bob. This is the price (Y/N) is paying for using me. She knows it. We shook hands. Now, do you need anything? Or someone, maybe?”

There’s a hint of healthy mockery in her smile, a silent challenge in her tone of voice that’s urging him to answer only with the truth everyone already sees, but the featherweight of her joke feels like lead in his chest and in his nervous hands, covered by a layer of clothing one size too big for Bob.

“No, just… I finished reading a book and thought (Y/N) would be here ready to—”

But there was nothing afterward, just lying there together, in the same bed before sleeping, on extreme sides so as not to cross boundaries but to keep each other company before loneliness settled in every room, when it sometimes forced him to wake up with a gasp and a foggy mind filled with traumatic experiences, talking about books or things.  

But perhaps it was the words left unspoken between you before sleeping (hidden among the ones you did say: goodnight and sleep well), the ones you two avoided saying and pushed aside, along with the feelings that lived dormant in the darkness and accumulated inside each other—the things you both were dying to say but neither of you dared for fear that the already solid pillars of your friendship would crumble because of something as unstable as love.

Yelena waits a second longer, but there is no response from the other end.

“The team and I were talking about you tw—”

Bob knows what it is, the favorite topic on everyone's lips.

“You guys talk a lot, maybe you should shut up for a while. Silence is good sometimes.”

She rolls her eyes, an exasperated look following her action.

“Help me out here for a while, will you? I have a cramp and need to stretch.”

Bob swallows, eyes slightly wide at the prospect of feeling that kind of closeness with you, the kind that comes so quickly it makes him dizzy and ignites the heat in his cheeks sharply. The warmth of your hand, he felt it before, many times, a casual or intentional touch, and it was scorching (when the supermarket was crowded and the crush of people unnerved him sometimes, for example, your fingers would close around his and his hand would squeeze yours), as if it could ignite a forest fire inside him, so wild it seemed it could burn everything—the enemy in his thoughts, his insecurities, his fears, his nightmares.

He didn't even want to think about what it would feel like to feel the heat of your cheek.

But he did.

Bob had imagined it several times already. In a burst of bravery, his heart beating faster than a drug high, his thumb would slide down your cheek, fingers hooking softly around the edge of your jaw.

"Bob?"

"What?"

Yelena drops her things into the armrest, her hand cupping the bottom of your head.

“Put your leg here, Bob.”

He shakes his head, his own heartbeat increasing with the fear and excitement that mix, so close that the line between them blurs, and his somewhat messy, wild hair moves with him.

“I don’t think—”

“Three…”

“What are you—?”

“Two…”

“Lena—”

“One.”

Bob takes a step forward, hands outstretched to stop her without a word, a silent plea in his eyes for her to do nothing, even though Yelena hadn't moved an inch and wasn't planning to either. And with a deep inhalation and exhalation, a failed attempt to fill his lungs with cold air and soothe the heat settling in his chest, Bob switches places with her, even more gentle as you shift in your sleep, your hands close to your face and your cheek now on his leg, covered by his gray sleep pants, but which seem like the finest fabric in the world when Bob feels your heat radiate through your skin until it meets his, every nerve ending.

"You're adorable, Bob." Yelena laughs quietly, but there's not a hint of cruel mockery in her words—never with him—and she leans back on the second–long sofa, phone in her hand again. "Like those boys in her books. Such a gentleman. I know why she likes you so much."

Likes you, being in love—two different scenarios if the feelings on either side were unequal. Either a chasm separated those two feelings, or the first could be the path to get to the other.

“Did I do something wrong to make her not like me anymore?”

The weight of self–doubt about a topic as distant and still foreign to him as love (next to his insecurities) try to bring down the confidence Bob was still trying to build little by little, and Yelena can see them shining clearly in his gaze as he finally holds hers, even in the dim living room light at night, searching for an answer he can't find within himself, not when there's a thick fog between the truth and him.

“What do you mean?”

Bob shrugs.

“(Y/N) is always here with me, but absent at the same time, as if something has suddenly changed between us.”

“You’re overthinking things, Bob.”

There’s affection in Yelena’s words, warm in their attempt to reassure him of a truth hidden among his fears, but he lets out a small sound, something like a laugh without a hint of humor. Just an empty noise.

“Overthinking sometimes allows you to see the smallest things.”

“Like what?”

Bob can see it in his sometimes fragmented mind, every moment together and the way you changed, finding solitude where there was only company, a touch of emptiness when there was always life in your eyes.

But he doesn't know exactly how to explain it, and Yelena nods thoughtfully.

"Why don't you try to think about what exactly you did then? We have a while until the losers arrive with dinner. I'm going to be here with you, but ignoring you at the same time, okay?"

Catching his slight nod, Yelena turns on the couch, face close to the cushion and her phone in between, indistinct sounds from the videos, set to low volume, floating around him so the absolute silence doesn't completely consume him with the severity of his thoughts.

Bob lowers his head and his gaze rests on you, barely listening to the sound of your slow breathing as, in your sleep, your body relaxed, at peace. The curve of your lips is tempting, and he lifts the hand resting in his lap to push that strand of hair away from your face and place it where it belongs.

There, above your eyebrow and with nothing covering it, Bob can see the only physical reminder of the fall of a whole building when your self–control overflowed at the edge of your anger. And like a tiny crack in a surface, the small scar has a slightly different hue than your skin, but it was an imperfection that only makes you more perfect, more real, a whole person and not like a cruel dream from which Bob always wakes up before reaching.

Just like that, your presence in his life became a need.

You were the proof that he was still alive after the unbearable pain, (knowing all have been worth it because he met you) and that his heart hadn't turned to tin. He was still breathing, his heart was still beating, and he'd finally felt the nervous tingle, the fluttering of being in love.

Love, so silent you don't even know you have it until you're full of it.

Love, a silent feeling in a room full of euphoria, and at the same time, it's like an alarm that goes off and no one but him and you can hear.

To be close to you, with you, every day, that’s all Bob wanted at the beginning. But almost selfishly, the passage of time together made him greedy, wanting more from you, a different smile than you had for others, a new kind of laugh, escalating until all his thoughts were about you, daydreaming about how to shake off that title of friend and crown himself with a different one.

It was a silent plea, a hope. It became a desire that made him company through his sleepless nights…

“You need to be direct with her.” Alexei had said weeks ago in the kitchen, when the hands of the clock showed it was too late at night. “Your words must be deep enough to cut like a knife in the heart.”

Bob didn’t even know how he’d ended up in that secret meeting, when all he’d wanted to do was grab a late–night snack from the fridge to leave on your nightstand after you’d joked embarrassingly that you did that sometimes. But, confused and slightly scared, his eyebrows furrowed in surprise as the rest of the men stared at the red guardian and his constantly failing attempt to explain himself properly.

“Maybe not so direct.” Walker shook his head, the usual mocking tone on the edge of his voice. “How about you just tell her in small hints instead of trying to draw blood? You can hint that you like her, but without actually saying I like you.”

Bob blinked, confused, the information coming in too fast as he tried to take it all in.

“Like what?”

Bucky wag his head softly.

“Ask her to teach you how to do things you know she likes. She will feel that you are interested in her.”

And that was exactly what Bob did.

Now, when the doors of the elevator open and some really loud voices pierce the room, his natural protective instinct, (the one that was born the first time he took care of his father after witnessing his first blackout) makes his hand, a second after the resounding sound, move fast to press it against your ear, blocking out the laugh coming from the men.

As a reflex, your body moves in your sleep, but your awakening is less abrupt with his help.

You get up slowly, your mind and gaze blurred as Yelena leaves the living room, patting Bob on the shoulder on her way to the dining room. The edges of your gaze darken after rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands, the pleasant sting creeping around as you chuckle.

“Did I sleep so much I forgot I was lying on your leg?”

Bob chuckles too, and an invisible thread pulls the corner of his lip upward.

“You slept so long that Lena’s leg went numb. Just like mine.”

You let out a surprised laugh, your body slumping back against the backrest.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you know I’m always here for you.”

“Kids, dinner!”

Alexei’s voice fills the room.

At the same time, as a reflection that you both can’t avoid in time when instinct wins, Bob and you move your bodies to look over your shoulders, heads turning in the same direction, finding yourselves at what your mother used to call, at the perfect distance of a kiss. Bob is so close you can almost drink his breath, stopping yours when his blue gaze holds yours for an eternal second that finish quickly but that feels endless, watching each other's eyes before you both separate, looking forward as a nervous feeling fills your heart.

You walk away first, finding an empty spot next to Ava.

“Dad, will you stop calling us to the table like we’re real kids?” Yelena complains, sitting at one of the heads of the food–laden table as Bob sits in the chair across from you. “Someone here is older than life.”

The rest chuckle, not too loudly.

“But you’re my kids. Now, let’s have dinner like family.”

At some point, there is a back—and—forth conversation around, about a past relationship for some of them, somehow empty, never too deep because talking once about the future they hoped and never got to feel is enough for everybody, but always accompanied by soft laughter that makes the tower feel like a real home after some lost it or never had it in the first place.

“So… what’s your type of man, (Y/N)?” Yelena chuckles, and the sound is full of genuine affection for you, but it hides her desire to steer the conversation in a way that Bob can be included in your words. “You’re always reading, so you must have a type. Maybe someone here is like that.”

The others feign innocence, but the possibility stirs in Bob’s body with a heartbeat that’s too fast, eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion, and a certain weight of worry about not hearing a promising answer.

“Who?” Ava laughs also knowingly, with a certain disdain at thinking of the others and you that way too, and her finger points at Alexei. “Too old.” Then at Bucky. “Way too old.” Finally, at John. “Too much of an idiot. That leaves just Bob.”

Bob swallows at the sound of his name, so abruptly that the food in his mouth makes his expression twist slightly in pain.

The others, expectant, continue waiting.

You clear your throat, your heart pounding against your chest as if it were seeking its own freedom and a way out of a situation that seems unlikely to end well.

“The usual, I guess, just… a nice guy.”

“Oh, come on, that’s not fun.” John grins, malice bubbling up as if he needs to embarrass someone at least once a day to survive. “You could be more specific, like Bob. Right now there is a girl in his eyes so he could tell us what she’s like, describe her so much until we’re bored.”

Bob's gaze meets yours, barely a second before you look away when Bucky speaks.

“I think that’s enough with the jokes, huh?”

But then, to everyone’s surprise and his own, Bob speaks, and with a touch of nervousness bordering on anxiety, he starts talking about her. Just a little, not quite to the point of boring the rest of you.

And you listen, your heart a little cold around the edges. Like a brutal change in the season, the tempest of his words threatens to hurt you without hesitation or guilt, but you listen, because you always tried to be a good friend to Bob, a person he could trust when he didn't even trust his own shadow. And even when he was always full of doubt about himself, about the truth, he seemed to trust your voice more than the enemy within, the one that whispered only cruelty. Even when he became cloudy, pulling the blanket off his head when you asked him to, because that was always the only promise for him that it would all end eventually.

For all those months together, it had been you, and between heartbeats, it had always been him. Until you confused things, apparently.

Until the girl in his eyes arrived.

And it hurts, it burns to think about it, that reality that creeps up on you, that of always being just a friend. And it's like having an empty stomach, an empty mind, an empty heart.

When he's finished, you excuse yourself to leave with a smile and your head held high, leaving the deathly silence behind and missing the way Bob follows you with his eyes, even after you disappear from the room.

"I think we blew this." Ava lets out a small sound, like a worried laugh at possible defeat as she looks at the rest.

"Did you have to go on so long, genius?" A semi–hard object hits the side of Bob's head and bounces off it, without erasing his terrified expression as he looks at Bucky. "We told you you had to flatter her a little, not write her a Shakespearean sonnet."

Yelena frowns.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Some weeks ago we told Bob to try to hint to (Y/N) that he likes her without telling her he likes her.”

“And?”

“And nothing else. (Y/N) came into the kitchen to get something from the fridge, and the conversation ended there.”

“Did she hear you talking about this ingenious plan?” Ava’s hard gaze landed on Bob, and he blinked, innocent eyes set in a look of terror. “Did (Y/N) hear you talking about her, or did she hear you being told by the smartest men in this place how to get your girl?”

As night fell and sent the rest of the team to sleep, the endless talk finished when you had entered the kitchen, a soft sound from your throat announcing your presence first.

“What are you doing up so late, darling?”

“I came to get something to eat.” Bucky’s gaze rested on you, all the way until you closed the fridge door. “Sorry to interrupt your boys’ sleepover.”

“It’s not a boys’ sleepover, (Y/N).” John frowned, slightly offended.

“Men’ sleepover is better.” Alexei smiled, and you laughed with him, his innocence fluttering as the others sighed in defeat.

“Of course, my mistake. Sleep well, everybody.”

“You too.”

The others' voices were an echo, except for Bob's, lips closed as your eyes fell on him in your farewell.

He never said your name, and neither did the others. But from then on, there was only half a life in your eyes, whereas before they had always been full of it every time you looked at him.

The seconds of understanding end when Bob stands up, so fast he pushes his chair back with a dry sound against the polished floor.

His own breathing becomes labored, but he tries to calm his anxious heart.

"You always have to ruin things—"

"Not this time. Not with her." Bob murmurs softly, and when he finally reaches your room, your door is always open for anyone who wants to enter and exist, and that's a mixed relief. "(Y/N)?"

You look over your shoulder, your body facing away from him as you continue to sit in front of your laptop on the desk.

"Yes?"

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Bob closes the door behind him, barely making a noise as he ventures inside, feeling the place like untapped territory even though he's been there since his life merged with yours. The sound of his sneakers on the floor is almost nonexistent, but it feels heavy like lead in his pockets as Bob sits next to you, listening to the almost ghostly volume of the video playing in front of you.

"You okay, Bob?"

Your attention is on the screen and your voice is a whisper, but it is an overwhelming force that hits his chest, even harder than bullets in the past.

"Are you?"

You chuckle.

"I asked you first."

Bob hums a reply.

"Do you want to lie down for a while? I finished a new book today and think I can convince you to read it."

You shake your head, but there's a slight, honest smile on your lips.

"I'm not sleepy yet. Maybe later or tomorrow."

Neither of you says anything for a moment, your eyes straight ahead like Bob's gaze lingers on your profile.

Bob knew that you, too, were still learning to use your voice like him, to find the right words—always hidden—so scattered across different galaxies, so far from each other that you still struggled to put them together to say something eloquent, to say what you both truly wanted to say, what you truly felt. Silence had always been your ally and an imposition for him. And that had been his curse throughout his life and yours, always in solitude, until it created his inability to speak.

But not today, not ever again.

“We’re feeling a little much apathetic today, huh?”

It’s not an accusation, but his tone tinges with his sassiness, the kind he used to make direct comments and respond to other people’s jokes, to John’s sarcasm and sometimes Bucky’s condescension. Today, however, his words make you frown sharply as you turn to look at him.

“Excuse me?” His gaze threatens to falter and leave yours when you narrow your eyes at him, but Bob stands firm when what he's said is free to the world, saying out loud what he wants to say instead of letting it perish inside and ducking his head to pretend it never happened. "You're quite bold sometimes, Bob."

“And you’re quite clueless.” He smiles, softly, firmly planted on the floor, his heart pounding in his chest. The electricity, the tingling at his fingertips as the result of this brave act is addictive, like a drug, but ultimately a healthy one, one he wants to get hooked on. “I was talking about you, silly. How can you be so smart and not realize that every word I said was about you, (Y/N)?”

Your frown relaxes, and the gnawing feeling of annoyance at his forwardness is replaced by confusion. His hands cup the sides of your chair, and Bob pulls you closer, gently, not roughly, taking in the way your body has stopped tensing, being brave when he sees your eyes light up with affection again, completely—a little scared around the edges, but finally not halfway.

“When I asked you to teach me how to braid your hair, it was for you—for that loose braid you always have. Your mom did it for you, didn’t she? Every day.” You nod, feeling the heat from his knees radiating against yours. “When I asked you to teach me how to dance to those old ballads Bucky loves so much, I didn’t do it to dance with someone else. I did it because I saw the way he spun you around one night and saw you laugh, and I wanted so badly to be him that I could feel my body vibrate. The things I said in the kitchen, about her hair and her laugh and everything—it was all about you, okay? Can you believe me? Please?”

You nod again, and Bob can see the hope, right next to that desire of a soul crying out for the exact same thing as his, silent but fervent.

His hands cup your face, soft skin over slightly calloused fingers on your cheek and the underside, thumbs gliding to make his dreams (asleep and awake) come true, a touch so tender you feel nothing but warmth at the tips—his face so close his breath mingles with yours.

Your own hands clutch at his arms, searching for something to hold you steady as well.

“I’m sorry. I… I got scared. This is my first time feeling like this.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, I never meant to make you feel like there was someone else there because ever since I met you, it’s always been you. And if you have any doubts, you are the girl in my eyes.”

Bob leans forward, closing the small space between his existence and yours.

And behind his closed eyelids, like yours, the darkness ceases to be terrifying and becomes pleasurable, for the first time in his life. Time, life itself, the past and future are suspended, unimportant and in an eternal pause in the seconds his lips linger against yours. It's an unspoken conversation, a confession of love without even having to say those three letters. A connection, strength and gentleness, melting away any fear or doubt. The kiss is soft like him, a little shy like you, but real and perfect after every moment you imagined him in your head.

And in a synchronized movement, the two of you separate, breathing in each other's air.

"I'll be back, okay? I won't be long." He whispers, his lips touch yours with the promise of many more shared kisses, before Bob stands.

"Where are you going?"

He stops halfway across the room and turns around, those strands of hair on either side of his face bouncing with the movement.

“I'm going to get you some midnight snacks so you won't have to get up, and that book I was talking about.”

You laugh softly.

“And you're going to tell the others, aren't you?”

“No.” His shoulders slump. “Yes. I have to, honey. Lena and Ava were about to hurt me really bad.”

A nervous but genuine smile appears on that sweet face of him before Bob turns away.

[phangirlpenguin]

I was helping my aunt for the past 7 months after she had a heart attack. I did most of the driving, in her car. Please note, she is 61 years old, has no children of her own, and has two very small toy poodles. She mostly drives in town to get to the grocery store, church, and doctors' appointments (her own and her parents). What kind of car do you think she has?

A fucking Jeep Grand Cherokee. That thing is HUGE! She is actually talking about downsizing, since it's a bit unwieldy for her since her heart attack, and was talking about getting a "small car". If she ever goes to a car lot and asks to see a "small car", she's gonna get mad at the salesman cause her idea of a "small car" is apparently a GMC Terrain!

My first car was a minivan (a Ford Windstar I named George) and I loved that car. He was big, yes, but didn't feel as oversized as many modern vehicles.

I would love to have a smallish car of my own (I'm disabled/don't work). At the moment I live in the middle of nowhere (nearest grocery store is ~12 miles, nearest gas station/convenience store ~4 miles from home) with 0 public transportation. I have an e-bike, but the roads don't have bike lanes and no one wants to actually share the road with a bike going max 25mph. If I had my way, I'd have a Leaf or a Bolt. I do actually need a little bit of room for mobility aids, but I still can't get over just HOW BIG my aunt's car is. I swear it has nearly the same square footage as my bedroom...

The American consumer doesn’t actually want trucks and cars that are huge enough that you can’t see a six foot tall person over the hood. They make vehicles that big now to avoid environmental regulations related to engine efficiency

[kurizz]

Pink Poly Club (miromabby)

Summary: It's what happens after Huntrix and Saja boys' joint fansign event. Mira is annoyed at the trending hashtags online, she sees their fans shipping her with SB Romance and Abby. Their manager, thinking it'd be a good idea, organized another joint fansign event the next day.

---

Mira snatched Bobby's phone out of his hands, fuming at the edited pictures she saw. "What's this? Pink Poly Club? No way am I being lumped in with those boys!" She handed the phone back.

Zoey was internally squealing.

"Me and Mystery? Like—" She caught the scary look on Mira's face and quickly backtracked. "I mean, ew, why? He's so NOT my type."

With an exasperated sigh, Mira ran a finger through her hair.

"Should I just dye my hair a different color? Ugh, like hell I would. Why’d they have to have the same color as me?"

"You look better anyway!" Zoey encouraged, flailing her arms. "Don't let them get to you. I’m not letting Mystery get to me, too... although, he is kind of my type—I mean, who said that!"

Bobby tried to get a word in, but the girls were too busy complaining. He didn’t even know where Rumi had gone—she’d just suddenly left. It wasn’t rare for the girls to get chaotic, but that didn’t make it any easier.

"But isn’t this great? It’s what the fans want. Maybe it’d be a good idea to have another one tomorrow..." he trailed off, thinking it might not be such a bad idea.

Oh well. Why not?

And so, here they were: another Huntrix x Saja Boys fansign event, with the same seating arrangement as yesterday. The fans were coming in hot—it even looked like there were more of them this time. Some wore miromabby shirts and held up edited ship posters.

"Hey, it’s nice seeing you again." Romance wrapped his arms behind Mira’s chair, leaning slightly at her side. From the corner of her eye, she could see some fans going wild. She ignored him and looked the other way—only to find Abby already staring. He grinned in that boyish charm of his, also leaning in close. "Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, but here we are."

Her heart skipped a beat but she snapped out of it, shaking her head. She faced forward and shoved both guys' faces away from her. The fans were in a ruckus, and she couldn’t understand why.

With furrowed brows, she greets the first fan that comes up. Great, he's wearing a miromabby shirt.

"Cool shirt you got there. I don't remember taking it though." Abby commented, giving the guy a thumbs up.

Of course, he doesn't remember. It was clearly fake. A photoshopped picture of them with the two guys wrapping their arm on Mira's shoulders and she just had to be in the middle.

She furiously signed another fans poster, but doesn't forget to smile and thank them after. Abby and Romance won't stop staring at her and taking up her space.

"Can you two not?" Mira muttered under her breath.

Abby straightened with a dramatic sigh. "I don't like the number two. Let's be three instead."

"Oh my god," Mira groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I’m going to lose it."

Romance leaned back in his chair. "Can’t blame us nor the fans for having good taste."

"You do make a good centerpiece for a love triangle," Abby added.

Heat crawled up to her face and she glared at them both.

"Go bother someone else," she snapped, grabbing a sharpie and aggressively signing the next fan’s poster. The poor girl looked simultaneously thrilled and terrified.

Abby pouted, "Why would we? Don't wanna."

A sudden squeal erupted from the line of fans. A group of them were holding up a massive printed banner: "MiRoMAbby FOREVER 💖"—complete with photoshopped wedding photos and glittery pink text.

Zoey peeked over. "Whoa. That’s, like, next-level editing. I almost believed it was real."

"Don’t say it out loud! They’ll think it’s encouragement!"

These people had Mira stressed out. She glanced at the other end of the table where Rumi and Jinu was in. It was impossible to spot Rumi from the way Jinu was blocking her view with his back. Why's that guy all over her?

"You really should be focusing," Romance took her hand that's holding the pen and guided it to sign the next poster. Their fingers interlocked.

His hand was warm, and it was creeping up to her body. Romance doesn't let go. He stared at her face, taking in the faint blush on her cheeks despite her frown.

"Hey..." He leaned closer to whisper in her ear, "You should come with us after this."

"Shut up." She whispered back harshly, hating how her heart was now beating wildly.

Abby twisted his finger on her hair, playing with it softly. "Pay me some attention too, Mira."

Oh, someone help her.

________

first time I posted here. i had the sudden urge and here we are. that's my short contribution to this ship. might write more.

also, idk but huntrix songs>>>saja boys songs for me. their vocals are insaneeee. gotta give my girls more love cus what. their songs on repeat 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

[mona-risms]

Voice kink with K-pop DH is so crazy. Holy fuck. Dirty talk with any of the leads would be nice, but their breathy moans have to sound so good😭. Bye—you got me hooked on fucking Robin, Ayaka, and now KDH

You fall into my trap EVERY TIME 😭. You're genuinely so right though I just KNOW their voices would be absolutely fucking SINFUL

Zoey would be the most cheeky w it I think, she'd be the one to love dirty talk the most. She doesn't lose her 'cute' factor even during sex, but she KNOWS how to manipulate it in a way that'd make it all feel so??? MY GOD. She'd be teasing you and everything, saying how you're sooooo eager to play with her little clit, until you bite at a sensitive spot. Suddenly her words break up and she lets out the cutest whimper ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ and when she BEGS??????? OHHH babyyyy.......babyyyyyyy.............she's not shy at all, she gets so desperate for you ☹️ please give her what she wants. Or don't, the little whines she lets out when you edge her would absolutely be diabolical

Mira wouldn't be vocal like Zoey methinks. She'd taunt you a little bit at first, yeah, but when you get into it, she's honestly not the type. HOWEVER. When she moans? When she lets out those breathy little noises? Ohhhh goodness save me god save me bc the sounds that leave her mouth would be downright SCANDALOUS 😩😩😩😩😩 ASMR-WORTHY EVEN. Her voice is naturally deep, so the moans she'd let out would def have a bit of a sultry rasp to it. And when you hit a Particularly sensitive spot? Her breath hitches, a contrast to her usual deep moans and grunts and curses, and it's such a delightful sound 🥰

And Rumi......RUMI..........oh she's a fun one. I think she would ENTIRELY depend on whether this is happening before the movie or after. Generally, I can see her as the one in between Mira and Zoey's scales—not really quiet, but not really vocal either. Even in bed though she'd sound melodic as FUCK, it's like your on private concert bc her voice just rolls so fucking well while she throws her head back and beg for more. If it's before the movie, I think she does tend to restrain the noises that come out of her (eg. covering her mouth and swallowing the particularly loud, punched-out moans that threaten to leave her) bc she doesn't want to risk exposing herself as a demon by having her emotions go haywire. AFTER THE MOVIE THOUGH???? AHAHAHAHAHHA oh my god. There's no reason 🤗🤗 to really hide it right 🤗🤗🤗🤗???? Next thing you know when she feels particularly good, she doesn't cut herself off, no—she lets out these particularly inhuman growls and whines as she claws at the sheets (literally), and her voice holds that demonic attribute to it. But it's not threatening at all, nonono, not when it gets higher and higher when she gets closer to cumming and it gets breathier and more primal at the same time

Can you tell who my favourite is LMFAO. Anyway fun fact though if you've ever heard someone's voice, it's shockingly easy to imagine how they'd sound in bed. So. Yeah!

[destinysbounty]

I think I wouldn't mind Zane's NPC-ification quite as much as I do, if it didn't feel like they were also retconning the fact that he was ever a person to begin with.

Like, sure, I totally understand. Dragons Rising has a huge ensemble cast, and the RGB trio + new ninja are the clear focus. And I don't mind that! Everyone who does get proper narrative attention is written so wonderfully and I adore what we have. But...sometimes it feels like they're just kinda divvying up everything that makes Zane who he is and giving it to everyone else, and never even briefly acknowledging Zane's ties to those traits.

Remember when Zane used to have prophetic dreams foretelling future events? Me neither. Hey Lloyd, how are your visions coming along?

Or, y'know how one of Zane's most integral plot lines, character details, and motifs is his struggles with memory and identity? Remember that time he got amnesia and was then both manipulated and magically corrupted into being a villain? Nah that never happened, anyway check out what Jay is up to now

Or, does anyone recall how Zane is a canonically really good cook with pies so delicious they made Jay cry on screen? No that's Arin's thing, actually

Heck, we even have our quota of ~Silly Robot Beep Boop Bop~ jokes fulfilled by Lobbo!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not hating on any of the other characters for having these traits. Nor am I arguing that Zane should have a singular monopoly on these types of storylines. But when they take traits that have for so long been primarily associated with Zane, like cooking and visions and amnesia, and share them with someone else without even briefly acknowledging Zane's prior involvement...idk. It just feels like they're trying to repackage all the things that make Zane interesting while still writing him out of the narrative. It feels like they're going "whaat? Zane, have personality outside of being a generic robot character?? That never happened!" Like they're just trying to have their nindroid and kill him too.

And I mean, to some extent I can understand their hesitation. It's the same reason the Mr. E/Echo reveal got scrapped in s8 - theres just way too much going on right now, and the narrative load required to explain somwthing this complicated during a reboot/sequel would just bog down an already very complicated story. Zane has a very convoluted backstory that, for new fans dropping in to the sequel series for the first time, may be difficult to explain. How do you recap Zane's history with amnesia in a neat an tidy way for the next gen story, when there's already so much going on?

Like i said, i get that. But they could at least make, like, brief blink-and-youll-miss-it allusions, yknow? Like how they played the Ice Emperor theme during Zane's existential crisis during drs1, or when Zane told Zanth not to follow dancing birds in drs3. Tasteful, subtle, doesn't require much insider knowledge and newer fans could easily interpret it as a noodle incident comment without losing out on their comprehension.

Maybe after Jay gets eliminated from the Tournament, Zane offers to go after him saying, "I've lost myself once or twice before. If anyone understands what he's going through, it's me." And if you want to preserve the plot unobstructed, maybe you can have it so that either Zane fails to get through to Jay or Jay is gone without a trace before he can get to him. Maybe there's a brief scene of Zane making a pie to try and cheer Sora up, but she can't eat it because it reminds her too much of Arin. Or maybe Lloyd has a panic attack over his visions and Zane is the one to offer him the advice about not fighting the vision and letting it come naturally.

Don't you see how easy that is? You would change literally nothing about the story at large, and you're not detracting from the main plotlines or character arcs that are quite validly dominating this series. But you're also throwing a bone to the people who actually like Zane. Like???? I'm not even asking for much here, man :/

Idk. Maybe I'm just bitter and need to touch grass, who's to say

[bewitched-hours]

So umm I had an idea of reader being like a deity in the past before being forsaken. They knew Telamon and were really good friends and they both meet back in the cabin but not as gods (right because Telamon is now Shedletsky and reader is in their human form or idk how to explain that).

I don't really have a scenario in my head so write whatever you think of :D

And thank you for erlier!

Dear anon, thank you for this delicious meal- If you want, I'll make more of this but then I want to know if you want it platonic or romantic-

Reader's getting She/They, we need more goddesses-

You still remembered...

A past that made your feathers shiver.

Back when you were a goddess... Much too similar to Telamon...

But he eventually disappeared, leaving you to cover for him until you were finally taken in your mortal form.

In a way, you were even grateful to get away from it all. To start anew and make yourself less important.

You even made a couple of friends in this hellish realm! Some better, some worse.

But among your closest was Shedletsky. You saw him as just some silly guy who could bring up the mood with a simple joke and you two seemed to click pretty quickly through your similarities in humour.

You also both had wings. Neat!

It even got to the point where you'd help other take care of your wings further down, where it was hard to see by oneself.

You couldn't count on both hands how many times you've helped Shed out and vice versa. Hell, you memorized which spots make him jump the most if you ever just wanted to mess with him.

But you eventually decided to open up about your past...

"Shed... I gotta confess something but promise you won't be mad..." You began quietly, looking at the ground in front of you as he was working on your wings.

He was still all smiles, not showing a shred of concern as he nodded. "Of course! You can tell me anything!" He said cheerfully, as though you could do no wrong in his eyes.

So, you swallowed your anxiety and with a deep breath, the words simply slipped out. "I used to be a god... A cruel one..." You could feel him stop for a short while but he continued on, thanking him under your breath for not leaving right then and there.

"I regret who I was back then... I thought I was above everyone else and could do whatever. Didn't help that I managed to befriend Telamon back then..." Another pause, this time longer, but he hesitantly continued letting you talk. "Only when he disappeared did I gradually start to understand how wrong I was... I wasn't above anyone and I didn't have the spine to own up to what I did."

Silence. For seconds, minutes, and then...

"I know what you mean... Old friend."

Silence. For seconds, minutes...

"Tel?" Your voice sounded louder in the silence, staring ahead as tears pushed themselves out of your eyes.

More silence. Seconds, minutes...

"Guess we never really grow apart, do we?" He chuckled, causing a smile to form on your lips as you nodded along. "Yeah... We just keep following the same route in life..."

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[drdemonprince]

I learned about "pressured speech" and read up on it a bit. I saw myself in this lit. but it felt unfair and patronizing. I'm and AuDHDer, afab, and Black. I have known since I was young that people find it tedious, annoying, and unimportant when I talk, so I've learned to talk to very fast in the hopes that people might find me less annoying and listen to me. But, I didn't see any of this reflected in the literature. My Q: are the speech pathologists buggin, or is it me who should chill out?

I think a *lot* of speech language pathology involves targeting the individual for standing out in some noticeable way rather than focusing on the social exclusion & judgement that's actually the source of their communication problems.

Lots of gay kids get sent to the speech language pathologist at school purely for having the gay lisp (which is different from other forms of lisps, and doesn't really affect comprehensability!), for instance.

Relatedly, for a long time I believed that there was no such thing as "proper posture" or correct form for doing most activities; it all seemed like ableism and conformity to me. As an undiagnosed Autistic kid, I was constantly getting sent into special classes to correct how I held a pen, sat, carried myself, and so on, and all it ever did was make me feel defective and othered, when I was perfectly content prior to that "treatment" to just let my body do whatever it did. So I am with you on principle that a lot of what gets pathologized is unfairly targeted.

However, my recent experience of having a severe injury caused by unaddressed hypermobility AND what I've learned from working closely with a voice teacher who specializes in trans voices & pathology have convinced me to walk back a bit from my older belief that proper posture is completely fake, proper body movement forms aren't real, there is no "correct" way to speak and it's all equally valid diversity that has needlessly been pathologized.

Two things are true at once, I feel: completely benign differences in how people move/hold their body/speak/etc are being treated as pathological simply because they look different, AND people can really harm their bodies in a lasting way from misuse. Misuse is often caused by unaccommodated disability, trauma, dysphoria, stigma, or the holding in of stress.

It is not your body that is pathological -- it's how you have been treated, and your body responds to that.

It sounds like you have had quietly, pervasively traumatic experiences that have hampered your ability to communicate with other people in a relaxed way, and your way of coping with repeated hostility (speaking really fast) could potentially cause vocal damage and breathing problems as well as tension in your abs, throat, neck, upper back, and even your pelvic floor (this stuff really is all connected!).

I speak "too" rapidly too, because I am anxious with racing thoughts and I don't believe that people will listen to me, and that (among other quirks in how I speak, such as forcibly lowering my pitch using my tongue) has caused me to have a REALLY tight throat that can barely expel air correctly, a tight jaw, trouble exhaling, and what my singing teacher said were just about the tensest back and shoulder that she's ever seen. So if you're pushing your speech out rapidly the way that I did, you probably *are* causing yourself a lot of pain and strain that makes it harder not just to communicate, but also to just be in the world.

Some questions to consider:

Do you find the act of speaking exhausting? Do you run out of the energy to continue a conversation sooner than most people do?

When you speak, do you feel like you are pushing air out with your abs by force? (speaking *should* feel like the air is flowing through your vocal cords effortlessly, with about the same effort as passive breathing).

Do you experience a lot of vocal cracking/trouble controlling your pitch at either high or low notes?

When you breathe, does it feel like you're never really getting a full breath, either because you can't take enough air in, or you can't let it all out?

Do you feel like you have run out of breath at the end of a sentence pretty often?

Are your shoulders hunched?

Do you have "tech neck" posture?

Are your abs tight?

Is your pelvic floor tight? Do you find it difficult to relax enough to insert anything you want to into your vagina?

Does your jaw feel tense?

If yes to a majority of these, you probably *are* speaking in a way that causes you significant strain. And that is because your body is carrying a TON of stress and trauma from people mistreating you! This stuff takes a real TOLL. If your brain has come to expect that nobody cares about you and no one will listen to you, then your body has learned that message too, and that affects how you carry yourself.

But!!! You can undo a lot of this stuff and de-stress your body, and you don't have to focus on changing your speech or making yourself more in alignment with what is considered "normal." You can just start with body relaxation, breathing exercises, jaw massage, using a lacrosse ball to roll out your upper back tension, using a foam roller to relax your abs, doing some gentle kegels, etc.

In the past several months I have been learning a LOT about this subject and making major strides but I'm not confident enough to write about it formally yet. Watch this space!!

[mentalbreakdownsarenormal]

"The carefree shamelessness of a kid." That... entirely recontextualizes her relationship with Lancer in chapter 1, doesn't it.

(Long rant about the two under the cut)

I mean, consider what chapter 1 must have been like for her. The human freak she hates has just caught her eating school property, and if they report it it'd be the last straw that gets her expelled. Considering what she said to them in The_Newist_Girl post, they will probably do so immediately and remorselessly. It is only because of their mother and her kindness towards her that she doesn't cause a major incident on the spot. She begrudgingly agrees to just get some more chalk and head back to class.

(She also drops the line "If you haven't gotten it by now... Your choices don't matter" which uh. Speaking of internalization.)

Of course, it isn't that simple. The closet is both impossibly dark and impossibly big. And when the two of them go to leave, the door is slammed in her face and locked. The floor collapses under her and she falls through. The drop is impossibly far.

She wakes up in a new world that does not make sense. The first person (barring the freak) she sees starts shooting at the two of them. She finds an entire abandoned town, complete with a castle. And, perhaps the strangest thing of all, she meets a hooded figure who tells her about a prophecy. One she is a part of.

One that calls her a hero.

She doesn't believe it. When asked to accept her destiny as one of the Delta Warriors, she refuses. The hooded guy is knocked away by a kid on a bike. And he's the first person to finally give her a clear answer when she asks a question.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm... The Bad Guy!"

This is the first and only thing she has understood in the last few hours. He's a bad guy. He's getting in her way. Someone's getting beat up. After the fight, two facts make themselves clear. One, she needs to go east. Two, people are gonna try and stop her.

So she goes, alone, and makes herself a menace of the enemies. Beats them up, steals their stuff, and other sorts of things you would do in a normal RPG. That's what the enemies are for, after all. Why would she be nice to someone trying to kill her. Eventually, she's blocked by a door she can't open alone until the other nerds show up. She needs to follow them, but like hell she's actually gonna help them or change her behavior at all. There's no point. Kris and Ralsei are good and she's bad. They fell right into their roles, being all nice and stuff, but she's not like them. She can't think of anything good to say about someone trying to kill them like they can. She isn't delicate. She isn't skilled at anything. But she can smash things. And so smash things she shall. Just like she always has, and just like she always will. Don't know why anyone's expecting anything else.

She won't, she can't grow as a person like they can, not now not ever.

Susie's arc where she grows as a person begins after two rooms. It's the scene where Lancer mistakes Susie trying to intimidate him as advice on how to be scary and thanks her for it. His praise surprises her and having someone who appreciates her motivates her to become better. That's the basic reading anyway. But in hindsight...

Lancer is a child. A young child. Why? Lancer's age, for the most part, is irrelevant to his character. If you wanted him to parallel Susie, why not write him to be the same age as everyone else? How does the relationship between the two of them benefit from Susie needing to babysit the kid half the time they hang out?

She's his mentor. The one she never had herself. Lancer is bad at being scary. His evil laugh sounds like a baby Santa Claus. He has no idea what he's doing, he's just trying to be "scary and badass" like his dad. And it just so happens being scary is one of the few things Susie knows how to be "good" at. And with that in mind, Susie's words suddenly take on a whole new meaning.

Susie interrupts with a single word. "Stop." What Susie says next, about wannabe tough guys and bitten faces isn't her trying to scare him. It's her trying to crush him. The same way she was when she tried to play. You need to stop because you're bad, now here's someone who can do it better. But unlike back then, the person who told the kid to stop was the better person. The kid got the chance to see it be done properly and was told what exactly needed improvement.

And the next time they meet, Lancer acts far more intimidating. He's still not good, to be sure, but he did improve. He then immediately asks for feedback to try to improve more. He doesn't even have guys, he just wanted to practice.

And this shatters Susie's world view. This kid, this young, carefree kid who's just playing around improves. The kid who's the only person around she could understand or relate to, the kid who introduced himself as "the bad guy" *improved*. Whatever was wrong with this kid that made him a bad guy, that made him an outcast, didn't end up mattering. The support around him did.

In the very same scene Lancer shows improvement, he realizes your team doesn't have a name. To fix this, he asks everyone to drop a name in his bucket to be randomly selected. Kris doesn't and they "look like they don't care." But Susie does add a name. She might not put a lot of effort into it, but she plays along. Susie, who walked through puzzles, who disobeyed commands, who left the party behind, who repeatedly complains about you being slow, who refused help stop the very world from ending, put a name in the bucket.

And in every following scene the two are together, she encourages everything he does.

She expected to be able to play it because she was. She wasn't trying to be good: she liked the piano and she wanted to play it, so she did. Playing for the sake of playing with the carefree shamelessness of a kid.

But because someone thought she was "bad", they told her to stop. It's a role she's been assigned all her life. Without explanation, without justification, without fault, something as inherent to her as her voice, her claws, her skin.

So she internalized it. "Good" must be a role too, right? No one's ever cared enough to teach her about practice or training or perseverance. "Good" is something Susie would simply never get to be.

[kkuras-gamer-gf]

Read your diary | Megan Skiendiel

Smut. Any maneskin fans? Loosly based on their song of the same name! Too short, so sorry.

G!p megan. Perv!meg who sneaks into your room when your gone. Reader is just as bad kinda. Perv4perv in a way. Dom!Megan?? Who would've thought

Megan didn't intend on going this far; it started simply as wanting to be a good roommate, doing the laundry. One day while folding and putting it away, she found something, a small book. She shouldn't have read it, but she couldn't help herself.

Surprised by what she found: your dirty little secrets and detailed summaries of your hookups. Then she read further, and her name started popping up. First, just little comments about Megan being attractive, and then it switched; filthy fantasies filled the pages.

The next week, she was doing more laundry, and a pink pair of underwear fell out of the basket. She shouldn't have; she should've just put it back in the basket, but she opted to stuff it in her pocket. Later that night, she wrapped them around her cock as she pleased herself.

It should've stopped there, but it became a bad habit, stealing a pair and then throwing it in the washer after she was done. It was the perfect excuse; you were gone most of the day for work, so she felt comfortable in her dirty routine.

Until today, that is, you had a half day at work. Megan didn't know that, so she assumed it was safe. But it was different this time; she had dared to go further, settling into your bed with your used panties in her panties, reading various pages in the diary.

Just as she reaches into her boxers, you open the door with a sharp gasp at the sight.

"Wh- Is that my underwear?!" You ask, looking at the balled-up fabric in her hand.

"I—I was doing laundry."

"In my bed?!?"

She jumps up, hiding the small book behind her back.

"Well...well." She really didn't want to out herself further, but she also needed a way under your skin to get the control she wanted. "You write about how you want me to fuck you!" A smirk as she gains an upper hand.

Your jaw dropped at this. How'd she know that?

"You—wh—how?" Your cheeks are bright red as you fumble around for words, "Did you read my journal?!"

"This one?" Pulling her hand from behind her back and opening to a page, "I feel guilty. What would she think if she knew I fucked myself in her bed?" She quoted, An embarrassing confession.

"I—stop."

She didn't, flipping forward some pages.

"I wish instead of my fingers it was her coc—"

"Don't act like you're innocent." You interrupt, "You take my underwear when you do laundry. God knows what you do with it."

"I think you know what I do with it." She takes a step, making you gulp, "And I think it turns you on." Faces now only a couple inches away.

"You're disgusting." It's more of a whisper, not meaning it enough to put effort in. She wasn't wrong; you knew that with the way your core dripped.

"I'm disgusting? I'm disgusting?? Says the slut who writes chapters about me and my cock. Let's see, which page was it..." Long fingers flip through pages, "In my dream last night—"

"Fuck you."

The smirk on her face drops, slamming the book shut and throwing it on the bed before a hand moves to wrap around your neck, threatening to tighten. As much as you tried to suppress it, you couldn't help the small moan that left your mouth.

"On the bed."

You oblige, lying down, as she uses the grip she has to push you in that direction. Her hands fumbled with the button to the jeans she was wearing, not bothering to take them off, just reaching in a hand to pull her cock out, hard and already glistening with precum.

Bigger than expected, intimidating almost. Your eyes widen at the sight, causing a cocky smirk on the girl's face as she looks down at you like you're her prey.

"Aw, don't tell me it's too big. You can take it, right?" Faux sweetness in her voice.

Nodding rapidly, needing her to do anything to soothe the heat in the pit of your stomach.

At this, Megan pulls you so your legs hang off the edge. Pulling at your jeans and throwing them to the floor, a thumb rubbing over your soaked underwear, practically drooling at the sight.

"Fuck, no wonder I have to do laundry so much."

"M-Megan, please."

"You want these off, huh?" Despite the teasing tone, she pulls at them as soon as you're nodding your head. Though she doesn't throw them to the side, instead balling them up to stuff into her pants, you were too much in a haze to protest, admittedly the act turning you on more.

Her leaking tip slides through your folds with embarrassing ease before sheathing herself inside you in one thrust with no warning; a moan mixed with a cry echoed off the walls.

"Fuuuck." Megan moans as her head falls back at the sensation, "So fuckin' tight."

The brunette's hands grip at your waist, trying to ground herself and not cum right away. Starting with slow, deep thrusts, pulling little noises out of you with every move.

"You know how fucking long I wanted to do this?" Her breathing gets increasingly labored, and she thrusts quicker with her words as if she's working herself up.

"Fix that bratty attitude." A particularly harsh thrust as she mumbles the last part.

"P-pl-please." The words leaving your lips don't even make sense as you beg her, for what you're not sure.

It's like she was made to fuck you with the way her body fit with yours, the tip of her cock reaching where others have. Her tempo changed in tune with your body; it makes you wonder if she's that good or if she did a little too much research.

"Tell me how good this cock feels."

"Shhhit. So, so good." Words slurring at the pleasure, hands grabbing to try and pull her closer.

Megan's hand that once gripped your waist moved to rub fast circles over your clit, your own hand wrapping around her wrist at the overwhelming sensation. You didn't want to admit that your nerdy perv roommate had you close to an orgasm within minutes. Neither did Megan, as she wanted to uphold her current dominance, holding herself back.

"Mm, I want to fill you up." She mutters through her heavy breaths.

The loud moan you let out shows the effect it had on you, clenching around her, basically begging for it.

"You'd like that, right? Having my baby?" Megan's voice lowered as her hips stuttered, the idea making her closer to cumming.

"Yes! Fuck, yes. Please." Tears stream down your face as you plead for her to fill you up. "Want it so bad."

"Yeah? Want my cum, baby?" Breathless moans and whimpers as her once loserish persona fades back in a bit as she reaches her peak.

Pulling out her eyes filled with wonder as she stared at the liquid dripping onto your bedsheets, seemingly never experiencing it before.

Your body lay limp; you barely noticed her cleaning you up with your own underwear and, of course, stuffing them back in her pocket for whatever perverted thing she'd do with them later. Grabbing the diary from beside you and placing a sweeter-than-expected kiss on your cheek before grabbing your laundry basket.

"Same time next laundry day?" She smirks before walking out to your laundry room.

It seems now you have a new tradition for laundry day.

[acmeangel]

I’ve had this in my drafts for about 5 months because I’ve been too afraid of stirring the pot if my takes are hot, but I also really just enjoy character analysis so… this is my opinion!

Levi would not be a rough, mean dom in bed, and he wouldn’t have a high sex drive.

(CW: sex, prostitution, trafficking, all the Levi childhood things)

To start, if we look at his childhood, his mother was a prostitute in the Underground. And he was the direct product of this. While it was never specified exactly how Kuchel died — just that she was sick — I'd wager that it was almost definitely from an untreated STD; and even if not, it was precisely her dire circumstances that would've prevented her from receiving adequate treatment for any other illness. This lifestyle killed his mother, and we can see how deeply her death impacted Levi through even the smallest behaviors in his adult life; in the way he treats life as valuable, how he looks out for the young teenagers who end up on his squad, even in the way he holds his teacups. Kuchel loved him, and she was a kind person, but it didn’t matter—the world was too cruel of a place.

In Bad Boy, we see young Levi being threatened with the prospect of being sold into the same life as his mother — one of the men says, "We should make him do the same job as his mother. He might have inherited her talents." That's not something he'd easily forget, and, unfortunately, would likely be an experience that shaped his perception of self-worth, what sex is, and how the world works. This is not to say anyone is defined or shaped by their traumas, but our childhoods are very often where many of all our behaviors lead back to.

I'd imagine that if this is the life he grew up with, it would make his viewpoint on sex that it's something harmful, cruel, and unforgiving; it's a transactional means to an end, something taken with brutality, not an act of care, love, and intimacy.

There likely wasn’t anything in his life in the Underground to shown him otherwise, and he was there for all of his key, formative years. Even aside from his own personal experiences, we know that prostitution and trafficking ran rampant in the Underground—Mikasa and her mother were intended to be sold into it.

His abandonment by Kenny (who he almost definitely thought was his father at the time), only would've compounded his negative views regarding self-worth and the dysfunction/unreliability of relationships that are supposed to be caring, comforting, and nurturing. It took him decades to find out who Kenny really was or why he was abandoned—that's plenty of time for these emotional scars to cement themselves deep within him, even if subconsciously.

He'd then go on to lose basically anyone he'd ever dared to care about from that point forward—from Furlan and Isabel to the original Levi Squad to almost the entire Scout Regiment to Erwin to Hange to Sasha and Eren. Because of all of that emotional turmoil and the loss of all of his relationships that had mattered to him (despite his best efforts to keep them), I don't think emotional or physical intimacy would come easily to him or be something that he'd go out of his way to find, because why risk it? Why take the chances of getting attached to someone if your life is full of loss?

For that reason, I don't think he'd seek out sex just for the pure physical release. I think that for sex to even interest him at all, there'd have to first be a level of emotional connection and trust. With the right person, I'd reckon that over time, he'd develop a desire/need for it—it feels good physically, he'd see that it does foster intimacy, it would likely soothe some of his emotional wounds, and he'd want to please his partner. It’s also not to say he’d be overly gentle or timid or meek; but there’s a difference between passion and being rough with someone to the point of harm.

I just don’t envision him being particularly rough or dominating about it. He's not a violent or aggressive person at heart—only by necessity and circumstance. Honestly, I think, to some degree, he likely struggles internally with the super-human physical strength and fighting skills he's inherited. In my mind, it's not a far stretch to think that Levi has viewed himself as more of a tool/weapon/killer than a person, and I don't see him wanting to bring that into sex (or a relationship at all for that matter).

Levi didn’t choose to be an Ackerman/fighter — it was a perfect storm of his bloodline, Kenny’s influence, and the survival instinct necessary to live in the Underground that turned him into one. But that doesn’t mean that it’s his true nature. (Yes, he can at times reach a breaking point and lash out because he’s human, and almost no one constantly acts in line with their true nature and morality when put into dangerous, pressurized situations.)

I feel that Levi would want to avoid being violent or aggressive in an intimate setting, toward someone he deeply cares for, at all costs. Underneath his stoic exterior, crudeness, and the hardened mask he's often had to wear, he's shown to be a deeply caring, protective, and empathetic person.

Not to mention, I could genuinely see him being wary of his own sheer strength and not wanting to hurt his partner in any way or potentially scare them off, which would lead to yet another loss/abandonment.

Again, none of this is to say that a person’s trauma has to define them or shape their actions, feelings, and behaviors; but Levi is a deeply empathetic person, and I don’t see him easily shaking off seeing his mother’s tragic life, being abandoned, the loss he’s experienced, and the violence he has committed. Sure, it’s possible that after he gets into a relationship, or feels truly comfortable enough with someone, he’d be more open to different types of sex and not be as wary, but he’s just not a violent person in my eyes.

But mostly… I think, after a life of fighting and violence and aggression, he’d be eager to leave that behind when he can.

He’s not a violent dog, he doesn’t know why he bites.

This is not to discount anyone’s versions of Levi that they write/enjoy in fics/smut, I don’t really care what other people do and this isn’t about that. I’d never tell anyone what to do in regards to that. At the end of the day, we are really all just having fun here and living out our little fantasies as our our collective favorite character (I mean, I mostly write fluff pieces, so it's really not all that serious…). This just happens to be my take on Levi, it doesn’t have to be anyone else’s by any means, and I think character analysis is interesting! Pls don’t come for me, I won’t come for you!

[juliettejwnewinesa]

I really don't understand what I'm happening with the whole situation (just something about ai), and I've been reading you fanfics for a while now (and I've been eating them up, theyre scrumptious and yummy), and never once have I thought they were ai. You can see it in writing structure(?) And the way you write, it feels human. And there is nothing wrong with using grammarly cause we all do.

Anyway, I'm so sorry for your hate, but if it's not much trouble, can you make a fanfic about childhood best friend!reader x Han Su-gang who is older than her by 2 years. She left town, sugang was devastated, and she came back and transferred for her last year.

He makes himself known by lingering around her for a long while (in the halls, brief touching, just tormenting her), wondering if she remembered him. things have been quiet, and no one tells her the incidents. She simps over Han su-gang about how handsome he is to her friends (she's a bunble Ray of sunshine and naive so they tell her nothing) and how adorable their children will be and all that like a middle schooler. It's like pure and adorable saying they'll have 3 kids, 2 boys and 1 girl, and have 5 cats (being dululu), and he hears about this and decided to give her a good time!(smut)

Anyway, please and thank you and take care of yourself (so sorry that this is long💔)

hey babeee thx for the request sorry for the delay btw 😘

Title: Guess You Grew Up Pairing: Han Su-gang x naive!sunshine!childhoodbestfriend!Fem!Reader Rating: 🔞 MDNI Tags: childhood best friends to something else, naive reader, light corruption, possessive Su-gang, unaware reader, fluffy smut, oral (f receiving), size kink, breeding talk (delulu style), soft and dark tension

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Han Su-gang never forgot you.

You were the only bright thing in his life back then. Messy pigtails, scraped knees, and that ridiculous laugh. You were the first person who held his hand without flinching. Who told him he was your “favorite person in the world.”

Then one day, you were just… gone. Moved away. No goodbye.

It haunted him. For years.

And then—just like that—you were back.

You transferred in mid-term, your backpack bouncing, your voice still sweet and chirpy as you introduced yourself with a wide smile to a classroom full of half-dead teenagers. “I used to live here when I was little! It’s so good to be back!”

Su-gang leaned back in his chair, staring at you from the back row, jaw tight.

You’d grown. Legs longer. Hair shinier. Same fucking smile.

But you didn’t even look at him.

Did you forget him?

He watched. Waited.

And when the bell rang, you skipped right past him like you didn’t even notice the boy who used to protect you from bullies.

He almost laughed.

You started following him with your eyes first.

He could feel it when he walked down the hallway, his hands in his pockets, and you’d pause mid-conversation, glancing up at him like a little lost puppy.

Then came the whispers. The blushing.

“He’s so pretty, right?” you said to your friends one day in the bathroom, unaware he was around the corner. “Like, dangerously hot. Oh my god. I want him to kiss me and then ignore me for a week so I can cry about it like in a drama.”

Your friends stared at you in horror.

You just kept going. “If I married him, our kids would be gorgeous. We’d have, like… three. Two boys, one girl. And five cats! Or maybe seven. He looks like a cat dad, don’t you think?”

Su-gang bit his lip to keep from laughing.

You really hadn’t changed at all.

He started showing up more.

Behind you in the hallway. Lurking near your locker. Sitting near you in the cafeteria. His knuckles would brush yours when you passed. His shoulder would graze yours in class.

It drove you crazy.

You kept stealing glances, your brain turning into fluff every time he licked his lips or leaned against the wall like a walking daydream.

One day, after your “dream wedding fantasy” rant, Su-gang finally snapped.

He cornered you after school, pulling you into a supply room and shutting the door with a soft click.

You gasped, back hitting the shelf.

“Han—Han Su-gang?!”

He stared down at you, silent.

Your heart thumped. “Are you—um, are you lost?”

He stepped closer. "You really don’t remember me?"

You blinked up at him. “Huh?”

“I used to walk you home. You made me hold your stupid Hello Kitty umbrella.”

Your mouth fell open. “…Sooie?”

He groaned. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh my god—Han Sooie!” You laughed, teary-eyed, and then threw your arms around him. “I missed you! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

“I was waiting,” he muttered into your hair, his arms tightening. “Wanted to see if you remembered. You didn’t.”

“I do now!” you pouted. “You got hot. That threw me off.”

He pulled back and looked down at you, his gaze dark. “You really think I’m hot?”

You nodded without thinking. “Like… really hot. In a ‘ruin me’ kind of way.”

“…You shouldn’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I will.”

He kissed you hard, like he’d been holding it in for years.

Your lips parted in surprise, and Su-gang took full advantage, sliding his tongue into your mouth, one hand cupping your cheek while the other settled low on your waist.

You melted into him instantly.

“I should make you pay for forgetting me,” he murmured against your lips.

“S-Su-gang…”

“You say I’m hot? Say you want kids? Say stupid little things about marrying me?” He kissed down your neck, biting gently. “You think I wouldn’t hear that?”

You whimpered. “You heard that?!”

He chuckled darkly. “You’re not subtle.”

His hand slipped under your skirt. Fingers finding you embarrassingly wet already.

“Oh my god—”

“You this wet just from seeing me around, sunshine?”

You nodded, dazed. “You always look so good. I—I just thought about it a lot.”

“You want me to give you a good time, yeah?” he whispered, fingers stroking your clit slowly. “Since you dream about it so much.”

You whined and nodded again.

He kissed you breathless as he slid two fingers inside you, curling them slow and deep. His other hand moved to your chest, pulling down your top just enough to mouth at your nipple, sucking lightly.

Your legs shook.

“Please—please, Su-gang…”

“Shh. Let me take care of you, sunshine.” He dropped to his knees, pushing your skirt up.

“Wait—w-we’re still at school—”

“Then be quiet,” he smirked, before licking a thick stripe up your pussy, making your knees nearly buckle.

He ate you like he was starved. Like he owned you.

You were already close—years of fantasy finally crashing into reality.

“S-Su-gang, I’m—”

“Go ahead,” he murmured, fingers tightening on your thighs. “Cum for me. Then maybe I’ll fuck you for real and give you those kids you keep talking about.”

You cried out, biting your fist as you came hard, hips grinding against his mouth.

When he stood again, your legs were trembling, and he kissed you soft this time.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered. “Got it?”

You nodded, dizzy, breathless, ruined.

“Good girl.”

[krakensdottir]

And Murderbot is, unfortunately, as usual, not helping its case. Like, I get it. Not saying I'd be remotely gracious in that situation. But it's a simple fact that it has only let Mensah (and briefly Arada, but she was in shock) see that it gives a shit, and while provoked, it did rise to the bait and threaten Gurathin directly. These things do not look good. It doesn't give a damn about its image, it refuses to be emotionally open and earnest even when it is capable (which isn't always), and that is hurting it.

Now, Gurathin... the thing is that he might very well recognize that SecUnit is in a similar situation to himself, and that it needs help. But the other thing is... if it's a potential threat, right, he kind of doesn't give a shit. Like, there's a reason Bharadwaj has had to talk to him about compassion. Gurathin is capable of compassion, and he shows it to his friends (including Bharadwaj), but unlike them, he doesn't hand it out to complete strangers. Especially not potentially dangerous strangers. He's pragmatic to the point of being cold about it.

(And I don't mean a threat to him. I mean to the team. He's not afraid of Murderbot anymore, he hasn't been since about three seconds after it mock-choked him. But he still wonders what it's up to. He still wonders what it's up to with Mensah, and while there's jealousy in that, there's also a lot of genuine concern. When he said he was a cautious person, he was NOT kidding.)

What's funny is Murderbot is exactly the same way. It resents being seen that way, understandably, but it sees other people that way all the time. Honestly, they both resent each other for doing the same thing in a given situation that they'd probably do. Murderbot would throw someone under the bus if it thought they were any kind of threat to its clients. Gurathin would blow the head off of someone like Leebeebee. They're on a level of pragmatism that the others can't even begin to comprehend, because they're from a whole different world. Neither of them cares about other people by default. They have to come around to giving a shit. If you go around being a bleeding heart in the Corporate Rim, you won't last five minutes.

So Gurathin may not be blind to their similarities, but that doesn't automatically mean he'd empathize with it. After all, he was dangerous. He was a liar with sinister intentions. You think he'd have empathized with someone like him? He can't help Murderbot until he accepts that he was worth helping. He has to forgive himself first, and I don't think he's done that.

(Complicating things is that he still needs that help. He's not doing well. It's a bad time for him to have to share that attention and care, which is no one's fault, but there it is. So I'm really glad Bharadwaj is looking after him, and I'm really glad he's letting her. That care doesn't have to come from Mensah. There are other people he trusts now. I think a big part of his arc is accepting that.)

Gurathin's "Do you have feelings for it?" really adds another layer to his dislike of SecUnit.

Though the whole group is still grappling with whether to trust it or not, Gurathin remains the most stubbornly vocal about that distrust and on one level we already understood why. He's a former member of the Corporation Rim, someone who both grew up on the same feeds as the SecUnit engineers—'They go rogue and kill everyone all the time!'—and, as we learn this episode, has been horrendously abused by the Company itself, so why would he trust anything it gave them? One might even go so far as to say Gurathin still doesn't see SecUnit as a person, only a very dangerous piece of equipment.

Except... you don't see equipment as a romantic rival.

We know Gurathin has a rather intense crush on Mensah and who can blame him? She not only forgave him when few others would have, but she turned his whole world on its head, providing him with a new purpose and autonomy and love when he was very close to giving up. That's the level of devotion that inspires sneaking into her bedroom to smell her pillow, or staring star-struck across the dinner table, unable to think of a single critique. Gurathin loves Mensah and Mensah obviously loves him... but not in the same way.

Now toss SecUnit into the mix. Here's Company property that scares the shit out of you and as if that weren't enough, the woman you love is being so nice to it. Not just that, she's seemingly prioritizing it over you.

"It feel like it's going through something" vs. I'm going through something.

Running to talk to SecUnit vs. I was the one who was just threatened.

"I feel we can trust it" vs. I thought you trusted me?

"You need a MedBay" vs. But you won't get me to one because SecUnit advises otherwise, right? (Notably, Gurathin doesn't seem to be conscious when Mensah makes the decision to leave anyway, with or without SecUnit).

There are a lot of other moments like this and from our perspective we can see that Mensah is treating SecUnit similarly to how she no doubt treated Gurathin six years ago. The parallels between them abound, including being slaves to the Company who only start to demonstrate true autonomy after meeting Mensah. Gurathin still has a lot of healing to do, but after so many years he's in a better place than the slave that has just admitted to some level of personhood (not to mention the practical issues of them needing SecUnit to defend them), so of course Mensah is going to prioritize it to a certain extent. She's trying to help it the way she once helped Gurathin, but Gurathin is still so damaged and so JEALOUS that he can't conceptualize, "Oh. She's giving SecUnit what I was once lucky enough to receive."

He can't see that, so what comes out instead is, 'You have feelings for it don't you?' Because what other explanation does he have? If SecUnit already 'stole' her attention and her high opinion, why not her romantic love too! I don't think Gurathin would have ever asked that without the fever lowering his inhibitions, but I don't think the fever caused that worry either.

Gurathin makes me insane because I just want to scream, "SecUnit is you! It's you! It's not your rival, it's a mirror of who you were six years ago! You're not in competition with it, you're the best person to help it because you know something of what it's gone through!! You get to pass the torch, Gura, and help Mensah help someone else!!!!"