#this bad boy has been with me through it all though

[omniphilic]

Sinister mark X milf! Reader might save me 🥹

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀18+ content below / MDNI

In his universe:

tw: implied non-consent, sinister mark is his own warning

Now that one, you're sure he doesn't like you.

He doesn't laugh at your jokes because he prefers to laugh at you. He doesn’t compliment your cooking or help you around the house; he just cums and goes, leaving you sapped dry and teary eyed. A social vampire that drains you in more ways than one, makes you lap his cum up off the floor and say thank you for the privilege. That boy is just plain mean, and there isn’t exactly a cure for a sour attitude; kisses and creampies could only do so much !

He does have you, though. You don’t really exist on your own if he can manage it, he’s as selfish with you as he is with everything else, preferring you under his thumb and at his side, the dog heeled at his feet.

You don’t have Amber anymore, but Mark reassures you that in time you’ll have other kids to worry about, so everything should be fine, right? Say it back to him. He likes knowing whatever he’s saying is getting through your thick skull.

Because you aren’t very bright are you. You, the ditzy slut he keeps on retainer because you’re a better cook than you are fuck, knowing better than him? Cops already have helicopters, so maybe when hell freezes over will you get a leg up.

Or maybe that’s a bad way to put it, because he often has your legs up—spread wide as you hold yourself open and show him, point and tell him where you want him. He likes your theatre, your performances are Oscar-worthy, the fat tears streaming down your cheeks absolutely awe inspired. That’s one of the only times he smiles at you. Whenever he’s making you cry.

But sometimes, sometimes—

He gets tired of you crawling away, flinching at his hand on your shoulder or arm around your waist. You’re always so jumpy you never notice how much he’s holding back, and even if you did you could never appreciate it openly enough. You should grovel the same as every other petitioner that kneels before the king, and yet you stand beside him, over him, even—when he wants it. He buys you gifts—clothes and jewelry to adorn you. He wants you perfect for him. You have all the time and space to doll yourself up for whenever he comes, it’s the least you could do and still you find things to complain about.

Did you even understand the meaning of a courtesy? Maybe you’re dumber than he thought.

Mainstream!MILF (who is not having an affair with Mark):

tw: impersonation/identity theft, non-con themes.

You were minding your business just fine before he came along. You’re on your way home from work, expecting an empty house now since Amber’s upstate shacked up with Mark (or so you assume), eager to get back to soap operas and doom scrolling—even at your grown age TikTok has you in a sleeper hold—not whatever the variants have in store when they begin laying siege to half the world. You hear about it on the app, actually. Unfortunate you caught the live while you were on the way out the shower though cause you’re only half listening, phone tossed somewhere on the bed as you busy yourself with situated; first it’s the lotion, body oil, then-

Knock at the window? Unexpected and immediately unusual maybe, but Sinister is far more subtle than that. He’s already in the house.

You didn’t hear him when you got home because you had your headphones in. Carelessness, so classically you. He might as well have been a fly on your wall or the shadow at your heel with the way you strolled right past him, dropped your bag on the counter and went along.

He’s on the couch when you’re done and you scream when you see him. “Mark? What the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be upstate?” You’re still drying your hair with a towel as he flips through shows on TV. He’s completely dressed down, hair scruffier than you remember, five o’clock shadow looking odd on his baby face.

He smiles as soon as he notices you. “Hey.” He’s clicking through channels still, but his eyes don’t leave you, slowly crawling up to your face as you saunter over, looking the part of pissed off parent proper now.

“The hell are you doing here Mark? I know you and Amber have been having your own issues, but you can’t just run to me whenever you two are having an argument.” You’re teasing, he thinks. The irritation in your voice doesn’t reach your eyes and as you saunter over you regard him fondly, eyes soft and smile serene as you stand near the couch so that you can see him and the TV at the same time.

He’s quick to close it.

“What kinda hello is that?” He’s cooler than you’re expecting, sidling up next to you so casually. His tone is odd. Not enough for you to think anything was wrong yet... it feels distant, like he's speaking to someone hasn’t seen in some time. But he stares too sharply for it to feel fond. This look is reminiscent of hunger, laced with a terrific ferocity you feel you could've imagined it. It's not entirely unlike Mark but the circumstance is definitely unusual—the boy at least has more obvious reservations.

But now he's aloof, eyes darting over your face; he’s waiting for something to happen. He's still scrolling through the channels.

"It's the kind of hello you get when you show up without calling," You cross your arms. "So, is there a problem? Does Amber need help or something?" Mark smiles in non-answer. Keeps flicking through channels. Click!

“—uy one get another one free—“ Click!

"—save 15% or more on—" Click!

“—hundreds injured and thousands dead as Invinc—“ Click!

Your head snaps to the television. "Wait, go back to the news."

His eyes don't leave you. "Okay."

"—multiple sightings of the hero have been reported nationwide, as well as reports of attacks coming from other corners of the world." You furrow your brows at the screen, plopping down next to Mark, entranced by the broadcast.

"Officials caution the public to not approach individuals in one of these costumes," a few pictures of this Invincible pop up, one fully masked blue and black, one red clad and caped like Omni-man, and one with his face unobscured, suit white and silver, face stark and solemn.

Wait a minute... is that Mark?

You look at the boy sat next to you. Then back at the television.

His eyes are glued to your face the whole time. You point, your laughter tainted by your disbelief and drip-steady anxiety. "Uhhh? Mark... what's going on?" He just shrugs at you. "I dunno, do I look like a newsboy?" You furrow your brow at him. The snark isn't in the same jokey cadence you're used to, no. This feels colder. Meaner.

"Mark." His hand is creeping onto your thigh, now. You can feel the weight of it, the muscles tensed in a single hand, the restraint coursing through his veins. You begin to sweat. 'Mark' gives you a smirk that makes your stomach churn, he's all bared fang and claw.

"Awww. C'mon, Mom, you really ought to look happier to see me." He gives you a little squeeze and it aches. There are photos and videos of sightings of 'Invincible', still flashing on the screen; the last one, a man clad in black and yellow. You try to pull away from him, but he holds you firm.

"You need to work on your warm welcomes," He starts, low and calm. "I got you trained better back home, but that's nothing we can't fix!" He slaps your cheek gently, his hand coming up to smoosh your face.

"Ohhhhhh, she'd love to meet you. She hasn't exactly had the best luck making friends. I think you might be able to change that, though."

[sooopster]

Gonna reblog bc i have a good, but kinda long story

CW for allegations of bigotry, pedophilia, and grooming

Background lore: I attend a private, Christian school that has grades from pre-k to senior and this situation was set when I was a freshman. It's also pretty renowned in the city.

Last school year, an anonymous confessions account about my school was created on Instagram and students were using a form website to confess usual wild stuff like teachers being bigoted, students fucking, drug shit, pedo/grooming accusations, etc. I actually made an insta acc just to see the blog lol. Somehow staff got wind of it and messaged the account to come clean, but the user said no because the confessions aren't on school grounds and y’know free speech in ye old America.

Students began using the account to schedule/announce riots in the bathrooms to protest against the staff. I can only assume why they bothered doing this is because one: the restricting free speech thing, or two: the allegations of staff being creeps are true. Both scare tf out of me. Eventually one of the riots succeed and a boy's bathroom got trashed with a toilet cover and a trash bin being shoved down respective toilet bowls. Could've been more extreme ngl.

The school eventually held an assembly for the freshmen about the whole thing (they thought the person running it was in our grade at the time). The dean was the most pissed. He's one of those strict people that know they're powerful and thus become smug assholes that need to be humbled so bad. Side tangent but someone confessed that he was a pedo and another confessed that he was gay for the principal so make of that what you will. The dean also started questioning students that were following the account which made me panic and delete my new insta because even though I didn't make the confession account, I knew damn well that I would look hella suspicious due to my anxiety.

Roughly a week later, a new rule is laid out that phone usage during school hours is completely banned for all students. This wasn't just because of the account but it was one of the reasons. For context, highschoolers are allowed to use phones during passing period, break, and lunch. In this school freshmen are still classified under middle school so the other grades including mine couldn't use phones at all in the first place. Apparently, this rule will carry over next year, so we’ll never get the privilege of using our phones now. (kill me /j)

The owner of the account eventually gets caught and deletes the blog. I find out months later through my theater friends that the person behind the account, get this, doesn’t attend the school anymore. They were expelled earlier that year for reasons idk. ITS LITERALLY THE FUCKING MEAN GIRLS CLIP SHE DOESNT EVEN GO HERE. ALL THIS SHIT HAPPENED BC OF SOME DICK THAT GOT BOOTED BRUH THE SCHOOL LITERALLY CALLED THE COPS AND WE LOST PHONE PRIVLEGES AND THE GOOD WILL OF EACH OTHER OVER THIS

Anyway here’s some of the confessions i saved before the account was deleted if anyone wants to see. As far as i know my classmates are normies that don't use tumblr so we're good. (Another CW warning for the same topics plus additional nastiness.)

while this school is fancy and all it fucking sucks it's literally a prison here bro

it’s my first year here and moving from a progressive but poor charter school to a rich but conservative private school is not for the weak

Any other (religious optional) private school kids wanna share the craziest thing that happened at your school?

I’ll start: my science text book had an entire section about biblical proof of fire breathing dragons, and they used us for child labor occasionally but I feel like that’s normal for private schools

[dangermousie]

Eternal Brotherhood - season 2. Why you should get on the bandwagon

My most anticipated yet despaired of cdrama is about to drop its second and final season on Friday and I am here to convince you why you should watch.

Eternal Brotherhood is a criminally underrated low fantasy set in a quasi-feudal world which released its first 24 episodes last year - it was filmed at a go and was supposed to be 48 episodes as one drama but then the rules limiting ep count per season were set and the makers refused to cut, so they had to split it into two with a minimum of a year in between. The only reason part 1 was not my favorite drama of 2024, was because Joy of Life 2 and Fangs of Fortune also aired that year and narrowly edged it out.

It was a string budget (but incredibly gorgeous) labor of love starring actors who back then were not big names. Luckily for its airing prospects, both Yang Xuwen and Liu Yuning became a big deal after it was filmed so it was let out...

Anyway, why should you watch it? Other than gorgeous men in armor?

Eternal Brotherhood is gorgeous visually (it has some of the best cinematography I've ever seen) and has some of the best acting I've seen in a while, but it's also adult and dark in a way cdramas rarely commit to nowadays including in its politics and traumas. But it's not cynical - if there is one dram it makes me think of it's Novoland Eagle Flag in its recommitment to caring not despite but because of the darkness of the Universe. Keeping bonds is a form of rebellion.

What is it about? EB follows three very different but devoted sworn brothers and them trying to cope with a world at war and in turmoil.

Here are our PROTAGONISTS:

Zichuan Xiu (Yang Xuwen) - in a role that would have fit young Hu Ge, YXW is the definition of trauma sunshine. The baby of the siblings, Xiu drinks and jokes and cares about nothing - or does he? What hides under his demeanor is strong will, damaged but undestroyed idealism and so much damage there is no end of it. Xiu was adopted by the late city lord but after the latter was assassinated, he was sent to guard and fight on the border and acquired a lot of battle skills and even more trauma.

Di Lin (Liu Yuning) - the dad of the group. If your dad had a giant sword and was terrifying as fuck. Di Lin is the oldest brother; pretty much most of anything I would say would be spoilery, so all I am gonna say is Di Lin is dark and ruthless and acquires enough damage to rival Xiu's as season 1 progresses (though he bathes in blood, he yearns for peace), but he loves his brothers and his wife more than his life.

Si Yi Lin (Zhang Mingen) - the middle brother and a boyscout and sweetheart, SYL is a competent idealist who has not yet been damaged and his honor and his quiet decency are going to break my heart more and more as the narrative progress. You know that "cinnamon roll too good for this world too pure" meme? That's him only 6ft tall and hefting a giant spear.

The Ladies Who Love Them:

What are damaged knights in tarnished armor without ladies fair to make things better (or worse?)

Zichuan Ning (Li Mozhi) - the late city lord's biological daughter, she and Xiu grew up together and she's had a thing for him since the city lord brought a strange boy in for mysterious reasons. She is unabashed in adoration, sunny, and has no idea about Xiu's damage or complexities, neither does she truly understand politics and war (her uncle shelters her; whether for good or bad reasons you will form your own opinions as the drama progresses.) This a relationship that is doomed and shot through with longing. Xiu loves her desperately as the reminder of his happy childhood and happy world before it all fell apart; but he loves her precisely because she's sheltered and cannot comprehend his darkness - she's the keeper of his deepest traumas because he knows she won't understand. It all makes sense and it is all equally impossible - the very reasons he loves her are the reasons that they cannot work.

Lin Xiujia (Tao Luoyi) - if Di Lin is the dad of the group, his wife Xiujia is the mom. She is smart, strong, a domestic goddess and desperately refusing to acknowledge the darkness Di Lin wreaks outside their doors so she can stay in her peaceful garden paradise. Her character really shows the horrors of that type of world - the woman has a loving husband, no family issues, status, and yet it is so clear at any moment it can come crashing down and she can be held hostage or killed by her husband's enemies despite anything and everything in that dog eat dog world.

Ka Dan (Cai Zhuoyin) - a hostage princess of the enemy kingdom, she is ladylike, honorable and she and SYL have a gorgeous yet clearly doomed love affair. If you are sucker for princess x bodyguard, come right in.

OTHERS

Lord Ge and Lord Yang - two generals who used to be sworn brothers with the late city lord, now they are on opposite sides. Lord Ge is too honorable to really succeed and is Xiu's mentor. Lord Yang now rules the city as with current city lord (the brother of the murdered one) as the figurehead. The previous generation of sworn brothers and their endings does not promise much happiness for the paralleled younger generation.

The City Lord - the actor is amazing and the character is in the running for the most terrifying and hated character of 2024. To say more would be spoilers.

Bai Chuan - Xiu's most capable subordinate who I love because there is no hint of romantic feelings from her to Xiu or vice versa.

There is a bunch of others but my fingers are beginning to tire out so...

And in conclusion, I will leave you with this banger from the soundtrack:

[bambieyedoll]

⋆·˚ ༘ * SETH CLEARWATER HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 you’re his imprint and sam uley’s niece

seth imprints instantly the second you arrive in la push for the summer.

you’re standing on sam and emily’s porch, hugging emily tightly when seth pulls up with jacob. he’s laughing at something, casual and carefree, until he sees you.

the imprint hit him like a thunderclap in his ribs. not painful, just loud. like the world had been blurry and suddenly snapped into focus with one glance.

his wolf instincts were screaming “hers, hers, hers” while his human brain was trying to figure out how to breathe again.

you turn around, meet his gaze, and smile warmly like you’ve known him forever. “oh, hi! i’m y/n.”

warmth blooms in his chest like sunlight after a storm, and he can’t help the huge, dopey smile that spreads across his face. sam and emily immediately notice.

“oh no,��� sam mutters under his breath.

jacob elbows seth, but he’s speechless. all he can say is, “hi…” like a boy falling in love for the first time.

but you’re so you— full of energy, sarcastic without being mean, and so easy to talk to that seth forgets to be shy. you two fall into step like you’ve been friends forever.

he laughs so much when he’s around you.

you’ll poke his sides, race him through the woods, pull him into the rain because you love storms, and he’s just enchanted.

you’re both radiant, kind-hearted, and endlessly warm—like two beams of sunlight naturally gravitating toward each other.

because you totally match.

you both dance in the kitchen while making midnight snacks, make dumb inside jokes that no one else understands, and have matching mosquito bite scars from falling asleep in the woods once.

when you two are together, it’s like watching golden retrievers fall in love. laughing at everything, brushing against each other without realizing it, always in sync.

the pack calls it “puppy love” behind your back because honestly, no one has ever made seth light up the way you do.

seth will literally beam when you walk into a room. tail-wagging-energy levels of happy. you’ll just smile at him and say, “what?” and he shrugs like, “nothing. just… i’m happy you’re here.”

you steal his hoodies even though you have your own. he never asks for them back. he just watches you wear them with hearts in his eyes.

sam is so conflicted. he trusts seth with his life—but you’re his niece. you’re his sunshine.

he’s a protective older brother figure and it shows.

“no funny business, clearwater.”

“sam, he’s literally just passing me the ketchup.”

he insists on calling seth by his last name now just to intimidate him. and eventually installs extra lighting on your porch after your first date night.

seth: “is that a security camera?”

sam: “is that a hand on her waist?”

seth immediately steps back.

but deep down, sam sees the way seth treats you. with patience, gentleness, and awe. and that’s what really matters.

eventually, he tells seth, “you’re a good kid, seth. if it had to be anyone… i’m glad it’s you.”

seth gets choked up. “thank you, sir,” he whispers.

seth can’t stop staring at you when you’re focused on something. reading a book, drawing, talking animatedly with someone.

it’s not even subtle. he just goes into heart-eyes mode and zones out.

“seth. dude. blinking is free,” embry teases. “shut up, i’m admiring my future wife,” seth says, dead serious.

seth never stops being gentle with you.

whenever you’re having a bad day, he’ll phase and just let you cuddle against his massive wolf form like a pillow. warm, fuzzy, protective. your personal emotional support werewolf.

you wear seth’s wolf pendant because he told you it brings him luck. he didn’t expect you to never take it off and it makes him so happy.

seth constantly brings you little gifts from patrols. flowers, cool rocks, sometimes feathers, and says things like, “this reminded me of you.”

the pack teases him relentlessly. “our little golden boy’s in love.” seth just grins. “yeah. i am.”

you both volunteer at the community center. you’re terrible at organizing papers, but seth lets you be in charge anyway, just to watch your excited rambling.

long walks on the beach holding pinky fingers, running races through the forest, sharing apple slices. just soft. everything about you two is soft.

you’re the only one allowed to ruffle his hair. anyone else tries? he ducks or growls. you? you tug his curls and laugh and he just melts.

he’s not usually the possessive type, but he gets so protective when other guys flirt with you. not in a toxic way, more like a confused puppy watching a stranger try to take his favorite toy.

something primal kicks in. he doesn’t growl but he steps in with a hand on your lower back and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

he’ll wrap an arm around your waist and say, “she’s kinda taken, actually.”

you: “kinda?”

seth panics, “i mean completely! totally. you’re mine. wait— not mine like mine, just… you know. we are… you know.”

seth imprinted on you weeks ago but he hasn’t rushed anything. he’s been patient, gentle, respectful. he wants you to fall in love with him on your own, imprint or not. but oh boy… he’s so clearly in love.

constant smiles when you talk. nervous hand touches. blushing whenever you lean in close. he wants to kiss you, he’s just waiting for the perfect moment.

you’re not oblivious to the tension, either. the warmth in his gaze, the way he lingers just a second longer when he hugs you… your heart flutters more every time.

and lately, you’ve started wondering, why hasn’t he kissed me yet?

it’s autumn. seth plans a casual date to take you hiking to a pretty overlook just before sunset. “i found this spot last week, i think you’d like it” he says shyly, cheeks pink.

it’s quiet. peaceful. extremely beautiful. and just a little wild around the edges. just like you.

he carries your backpack the whole time. keeps glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking. holds out his hand to help you over logs or steep parts of the trail and doesn’t let go after.

when you finally get to the overlook, the sky is all painted in amber and lilac. the wind is soft. the view is unreal, but all seth can look at is you.

you sit beside him on a mossy rock, your knees barely touching, and you’re both quiet. not awkward, just so full of blooming feelings.

“you always get quiet when you’re happy,” you tease.

he grins and looks down, a little nervous. “just don’t wanna ruin it. this— this moment. you… us.”

you turn to look at him and realize—he’s already staring at you. like you hung the sun. like he’s aching to kiss you, but too afraid to mess it up.

“seth…” you whisper.

he leans in a little, eyes flicking to your lips. “can i—?”

you nod.

it’s so gentle at first. he kisses you like he’s afraid you might break. like he’s memorizing the feeling. one hand cradles your cheek, thumb brushing your skin.

he pulls back barely an inch, breathless. “wow,” he whispers, eyes closed in awe. “thank god.”

you giggle, heart racing. “that was overdue.”

“can i do it again?” he asks, already leaning in and grinning this time.

the second kiss is warmer, sweeter, more sure. he pulls you closer, arms wrapped around your waist now, and you can feel him smiling against your lips.

you rest your forehead against his, laughing quietly. he’s glowing. like actual sunshine in human form.

“so… does this make it official?” you ask softly, love-shining eyes looking up at him.

he just beams and kisses your nose. “i’m yours. always was.”

on the way back down the trail, he holds your hand the entire time. every few steps, he tugs you close for another quick kiss. “sorry. i’m gonna be annoying now. can’t help it.”

later, he walks you to your door, kisses your hand, and says with puppy eyes, “text me when you’re in bed, okay? i wanna wish you good night before sleeping, is that okay?” you just melt.

he now greets you with that huge, boyish grin and a “hi, baby!” every single time, even if he just saw you five minutes ago.

he’s always touching you in soft, casual ways. looping his arm around your shoulders, playing with your fingers, resting his head on your shoulder like a sleepy pup.

when you laugh, he lights up like a christmas tree.

he picks you flowers. all the time. you mention liking daisies once, and suddenly he’s handing you a tiny bouquet every few days like it’s a reflex.

“for you,” he says, all shy smile and pink cheeks, like it isn’t the hundredth time.

he lives for physical affection. cuddling? yes. hand-holding? yes. falling asleep with your head on his chest while he plays with your hair? double yes.

he does that thing where he nuzzles into your neck and sighs, like he’s finally at peace. “you smell so good.”

he wakes you up with kisses. gentle ones. all over your face—cheek, nose, forehead, lips. “rise and shine, angel,” he whispers with a grin, still in that soft morning voice that makes you melt.

seth loves slow dancing with you for no reason. even if there’s no music. just pulls you into his arms in the middle of the kitchen.

absolutely the kind of boyfriend to pick you up and spin you around when he’s excited.

he doesn’t just say “i love you”— he shows it in a million tiny ways. carrying your bag, brushing snow out of your hair, letting you steal fries without a single complaint.

he’ll walk on the side of the sidewalk closer to traffic without saying a word. always opens doors for you. always checks in.

sees you shiver once and immediately takes off his jacket, puts it on you, and then grins like he just fixed world hunger.

he tucks your hair behind your ear mid-conversation. you’re talking about something random, and he’s just gazing at you with so much love in his eyes, brushing your hair back like you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched.

if anyone makes you uncomfortable, his whole posture shifts. he’s still smiling—but it’s tight. he’ll wrap an arm around you like, “you good, baby?” and you know he’s watching.

sends you the most unhinged texts just to make you laugh. memes. selfies with ridiculous captions. “rate my hair. be honest. 1-10. i’ll cry if it’s below 9.”

he falls asleep holding your hand—even when you’re just watching a movie. it’s instinct. his hand finds yours like it’s magnetic.

makes you friendship bracelets. wears the one you gave him until it falls apart, then ties it back together with a string from your hoodie.

gets pouty if you don’t kiss him goodbye. “wait—baby, you forgot something,” he says, pointing to his cheek. “i will collapse if you leave me like this.”

you once kissed the corner of his mouth instead of the center. he blushed so hard. “you missed,” he whispered, already leaning in for another. “here, let me help you.”

when you say “i love you” he goes still. his eyes get wide. and then he just beams—blinding, disbelieving joy.

“you mean it?” he whispers, hands gently cupping your face.

and when you nod, he kisses you like it’s the first time. gentle, reverent. sacred.

“i love you so much, it makes my heart hurt a little.”

sometimes, he’ll whisper “mine” into your hair when he hugs you. not possessive— just awestruck. like he still can’t believe the universe gave him you.

[hope-luvs-hrtstppr]

some random tlou hbo s1 + s2 opinions! (spoilers ahead)

- i don’t think the vaccine would have worked. (yes, ik what neil said. i maintain unmoved lol) vaccines require trials and multiple attempts, the chances it would work on their first go at it are lowwww. though i don’t think whether or not the vaccine would have worked is relevant to joel’s decision or how everything turned out

- dina being with joel on his last day raised the stakes for him. he had to comply to abby to ensure dina’s safety when she woke up. or at least that’s where i imagine his mind went. his protective instincts towards her can also be related to the “it’s like she’s my kid, but she’s not” line in joel’s therapy session.

- this isn’t really relevant but i love bella ramsey so much

- the dellie tent scene felt really real to me. as a teenage lesbian myself, the sleepovers with that one friend where you’re lying a few inches away from each other, and you know that you both want to inch closer, but neither of you do. asking questions that test the boundaries of friendship, and trying to get an idea of where you stand based on their reaction. making jokes about the thought of you two being together to try and mask the truth behind them. lying awake in the darkness after saying goodnight knowing that there is still so much left to say to each other, but keeping quiet. because this girl means so much to you. and romantic feelings fuck up friendships. and you’d rather lay those few inches away from her than not lay next to her at all.

- the most devastating episode in season one for me was episode five, with henry and sam. devastating may be an understatement (i was SOBBING in my mother’s arms). i am the youngest child and have a complex relationship with my siblings, so sibling relationships always hit me in a tender place, which could explain my reaction. but even beyond that, henry and sam’s story specifically is so fucking tragic. henry: who’s sole purpose is to protect his little brother, who an already cruel world (the pandemic as a whole, plus a brutal and oppressive FEDRA-run kansas city) has been especially cruel to (sam getting leukemia). and sam: a little boy who looks up to his brother so damn much, and considers him a super hero- which the show communicates through his drawings of ‘super sam’. but henry sees himself as a villain, because of the lengths he’s gone in order to protect sam (reporting cathleen’s brother). HE FEELS LIKE A VILLAIN FOR BEING SAM’S HERO. and then GET THIS. he can’t save sam. because the cruel world got to him, despite everything he had done to protect him from it. and when sam turns, henry has to decide between being the hero and villain again. does he trade another life for sam’s, knowing that sam is already doomed? trade someone he has grown close to? someone he knows is so deeply loved? he hesitates, but he ends up killing his infected little brother. because, at his core, he’s a protector (a superhero, if you will). and it’s what sam would have wanted. but to henry, saving ellie was another act of villainy. he killed the only person he cares about in this world, and this settles it. he’s the bad guy. HE DIED THINKING HE WAS THE FUCKING BAD GUY. WHEN ALL HIS LIFE HE HAD ONLY EVER BEEN SAM’S HERO. *explodes*

- when ellie sings “it’s no better to be safe than sorry” to dina during take on me, i started tearing up. because that’s where dina’s at! she’s too scared to admit her feelings ellie and accept her own queerness, so she tries to ignore it. but later that episode, she thinks ellie’s going to die, and she never got to tell her how she felt. LIKE. CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?? IT’S NO BETTER TO BE SAFE THAN SORRY!!!!!!

- bella ramsey.

- gail isn’t supposed to be a good therapist. she takes out her own issues on her clients, she drinks during session, she thinks some people “can’t be saved.” but like, i fear that’s the point? she’s not supposed to be professional. she is giving therapy during a fucking apocalypse and gets paid in weed. i agree with the critique of her character regarding her purpose in the story being solely to convey joel and ellie’s experience while they aren’t talking to each other, and how it feels a little like a shortcut writing wise. but i don’t agree that her being a bad therapist is a testament to her having bad character design. characters have flaws, that is not a flaw in their composition. gail is meant to be a shitty therapist, but she’s the only therapist jackson has.

- i think that the sexualization of game ellie has altered this fandoms perception of her character as a whole. don’t get me wrong, game ellie is fucking hot. and people should write about whatever they wanna write about. my issue is when people put her on this untouchable pedestal, and then come at show ellie for not acting in whatever way their projected fantasy version of ellie acts. yes, show ellie and game ellie differ personality wise in some places. but they also overlap a hell of a lot. and seeing people criticize show ellie for every little thing just makes me question how grounded their perception of ellie as a character is.

- i didn’t think they made jessie unlikable. his qualms were all based. ellie isn’t thinking of what’s best for others, or even herself. she wants to stay in a war zone to go on a wild goose chase fueled by vengeance and grief. she’s not thinking of her injured and pregnant girlfriend. or her isolated uncle that’s fighting for his life. or her best friend who is a father-to-be. she’s thinking of joel. and that’s it. i think that young and bella did a great job portraying these two friends who care a lot about each other, but have fundamentally different core values and motivations.

- BELLA RAMSEY!!!!

- i think season two would have benefitted from being a few episodes longer. it’s such an ambitious season based off of such rich source material. i think that there is a way to have these scenes introducing the wlf and seraphites without taking away from ellie’s storyline. there’s so much complexity jam packed into such a limited time frame. entire messages and central themes are reduced to singular interactions at times. idk, maybe i just selfishly want more show to watch. maybe it’s a combination of the both.

[mochiqa]

𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒

featuring. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, (true form) sukuna x reader. warnings. (playful) hitting and biting, suggestive so 16+. word count. 3.8k a/n. was originally gonna write this with haikyu!! boys but that's still on the table, i'll take any chance i get to write about toji and true form suks <3

ko-fi page for donations/commissions here for your consideration, masterlists here for your entertainment.

mochiqa 2025 © my writing is not to be copied, translated, replicated, paraphrased or published on another site (reposted), nor it is to be reposted on tumblr for any reason at all.

𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢

The interesting thing about Satoru Gojo is that he can transition from adorably infatuated and clingy to insistent and terrifyingly demanding—not that he ever intends for it to come off as him being domineering or degrading. His history of experiences has led him to adopt the characteristics of many who had hurt him or those who cared about.

This distinguishment between his two primary personas is important because you didn’t know whether to snicker to yourself or anticipate a round of questioning as to whether you still love him, following your execution of this prank, that is.

He pads downstairs having just finished his shower, steam following him out the bathroom and into the main hallway. You can hear him humming a small tune as he approaches, his eyes trained on the way you browse through the living room bookshelf.

“Hey, sweets,” he coos, wrapping his damp arms around your waist. His nose nuzzles your neck and his lips shy just inches away from being on your neck. “Hey,” you respond warmly, reaching a hand back to caress his cheek. He smiles at the contact and cranes his neck, his long fingers finding your chin to turn your head towards him, before he lowers his head and goes to kiss you.

You almost yelp as you snap your head in the other direction, your lips pressed together to contain your laughter at the stiffening of his body. Gojo hesitates, assuming (or hoping) that your avoidance is because you had to contain a sneeze and didn’t wish to contaminate him. So, he leans in again and kisses your cheek, to which you whine and push him away gently. At that, his brow furrows deeply and he frowns.

“Are you mad at me?” He finally asks, his gaze searching yours once he walks over to the direction you are facing. “Is it because I’ve been getting home later this week?” He prompts, his right hand rubbing up and down your arm, his eyes sparkling with a need to understand you.

When you shake your head, his brow knits so tight you’re afraid he’ll develop permanent wrinkles on his forehead. “Just not feeling it, ‘toru,” you mumble, smiling sheepishly. He tilts his head slightly to the side and feels an ache form in his chest—both because of your despondent mood and from the lack of affection he’s receiving.

He brings your hands up to his lips and kisses them sweetly, lingering on your warm skin for a moment. Then, he pulls you into his embrace and begins to rock you slowly. “I’m sorry about that, sweetheart. Anything I can do to help?”

You rest your forehead on his naked chest and smile, the curve of your lips bordering on an outright grin at his gentleness. Gosh, you love it when he’s like this. Not that he isn’t always so gentle with you, but you love hearing the worry in his voice and the seeing the loving shine in his eyes. You draw back a bit from his embrace to reach up on your tip-toes and peck his lips, causing him to blink rapidly in surprise.

"Please don’t play with me like this. If you're in a bad mood, I’ll soon follow and you know that,” he groans, caressing your cheek tenderly. There’s a small pout on his lips, but he looks more handsome than he does cute, the sharp angles of his face a contrast to the tender hold he had on your heart.

You laugh and peck his lips again, though this time he chases your lips, trying to prolong the contact. “It’s a prank, ‘toru. I will literally bawl if you do not kiss me right now,” you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck just as his face lights up at your reassurance. You startle when he hauls you up and hooks your legs on his hips, one arm supporting under your ass and the other wrapped around your waist as he peppers your face with kisses.

“I’m going to freeze my card if you ever pull something like that again,” he huffs, before throwing you on the couch and crawling over you, his towel falling from around his hips and to the ground, rendered useless for what he was prepared to do to you.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

His usual returning-home routine starts with him walking through the front door, exhausted as is typical of him considering the nature of his work. It’s followed by him seeking you out, kissing you, showering, and launching into your arms for some much-needed relaxation.

“Hey, baby,” he greets, his smile tired but warm, reserved for his sweet girl. “Missed you today.” He inhales deeply when you embrace him tightly, his face buried in your neck, his nose tickling your skin and making you protest weakly through your giggles.

It’s out of the ordinary for you to then turn your head away and clear your throat quietly when he goes to kiss you. He pauses for a moment, caught off guard, but doesn’t mention it. He assumes you just ate something unsavoury or are scared about having chapped lips, which aren’t exactly things that bother him, but he respects your boundaries nonetheless. “Missed you too,” you sigh, freeing yourself from his embrace to check on the food in the oven. “You hungry?”

Geto groans. “Starving. Lunch break was less of a break and more of a forced social,” he confesses, following you to the kitchen. He washes his hands, dries them, then walks up behind you. He pulls your hair over one shoulder to ease his access to your neck, where he ghosts his lips on your skin. You pull away then, too.

That’s when he’s fully thrown off. To validate his confusion, he leans in, attempting to kiss your lips again, but you avoid him just like before.

“Am I getting a reduced form of silent treatment in the form of ‘no-affection’?” He asks, a brow raised as he pulls away and observes your figure as you navigate the kitchen, chopping up vegetables and checking the pots on the stove. “I feel… am I missing something?”

You sigh exaggeratedly, to which he raises both brows in surprise. “Did something happen while I was at work?” When you shake your head and mumble a small “no,” he isn’t sure what to think.

Finally, after more staring and contemplation on what could be the cause of your shift in behaviour, he decides to just head upstairs and shower. He smiles kindly at you, his eyes reflecting no view of anger or frustration in his soul. You return his smile more sheepishly than not, and have to stop yourself from letting out a choked noise of guilt when he leaves the kitchen.

You set the table and begin eating just as Geto walks into the living room, changed into a baggy t-shirt and grey sweats. His hair is still damp and tickles his lashes as he approaches you again. He stares down at you, then lowers his face to your level and waits for you to turn to him. With how close he is, it’s hard to maintain your poker face and continue eating. You feel your body begin to tremble from the laugh you’re repressing.

“Yes, Geto?”

“What’s wrong? I shouldn’t stink anymore, if that was the problem.”

You snort and shove him away, finally allowing yourself to laugh. He looks at you as though you asked him to eat the trash for dinner instead, but he doesn’t say anything else as you regain control of your amusement. However, when you face him, you’re still smiling - grinning from ear to ear, actually.

“It was just a prank, Su.”

He processes your words in an instant and ruffles your hair aggressively, intent of messing it up to a point where its tangled and practically impossible to brush. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you over my knee, you brat,” he hisses playfully, finally managing to steal a kiss before he sits at the table.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

The long awaited lunch break finally arrives and you’re darting out from behind your desk to get a well-deserved (and much needed) coffee from the break room. The heels you decided on make it harder to walk more than 0.1 miles in, so getting a higher quality coffee from the downtown cafe was not an option today. You think it’s just that they’re a size too small for you, but it’s not like you’d tell Nanami that now, not when you expressed how much you loved them and would wear them so incredibly often. In all honestly, he would buy you a new pair without hesitation—regardless of the hefty price tag.

When you return to your office, Nanami is already waiting for you. As his personal assistant and beloved wife, he takes every opportunity he can to check up on you, both your state in the workplace and outside of it.

He hums lowly at the sight of you and reaches out a strong arm to pull you into him, ducking his head down to kiss your lips. Your mind pings as you recall your prank idea, and you swerve his affections smoothly. Smoothly, but not unnoticeably. Nanami frowns and breathes into his palm to check himself. “The investors are looking go forward with the agreement,” he informs you, as though you don’t track the progress of his meetings and company developments for a living.

You light up nonetheless as you finish sipping on your coffee. “That’s great news, Ken!” You delight, hopping up to sit on your desk and patting the space beside you for him to replicate. He does, promptly, and rests his head on your shoulder. It strains his neck slightly, but he doesn’t mind. His hand reaches over to play with yours in your lap, his lips twitching up into a smile when you kiss the top of his head.

Taking that as a safe sign, he raises his head to kiss you, but you turn your head so he kisses your cheek instead. He blinks, unsettled by your avoidance. “Have you eaten yet? I know you become rather sensitive when you don’t.”

“I haven’t, but I’ve got lunch with me. Speaking of, you didn’t even realise you forgot to pack your lunch this morning,” you giggle. “I had to cram it in my bag, and my shoulder is about to dislocate as is.”

He chuckles, a deep rumble that reverberates through you. “I’m sorry, honey. Mornings are my most unpredictable hours, even when I silence my phone. Thank you for doing that.” Nanami makes a mental note to buy you a sturdier, nicer bag soon. You shopped at Hermes enough to put you in the running for a Birkin, so that was the most likely choice.

You hop off your desk to grab your lunch. Nanami follows your movements and thanks you when you hand over his lunch. He leans in to kiss you, testing the waters one last time, only for you to reaffirm his concerns and avoid his lips again.

“Is your shoulder hurting you severely?” He asks, to which you pause and shake your head with a furrowed brow.

“No, why?”

He presses his lips together and stares at you. Taking his glasses off, he takes a seat in your office chair and buttons his blazer, before motioning you over. You comply and allow him to seat you in his lap, his right hand caressing your waist while the other rests on your thigh. “You’re avoiding my kisses,” he points out, as though you haven’t been trying to stop the guilt you feel from seeing his confused expression.

“Am I?”

He raises a brow at your evidently feigned innocence, and you shrug.

When you don’t say anything else, he resorts to simply staring at you whilst stroking along your thigh. The contact has you shivering and swallowing thickly, the cool metal of his wedding ring practically burning through the warmth of your clothes. “We should eat—”

“I don’t feel comfortable eating knowing that there may be something bothering you, my love,” he cuts you off, his tone stern but not unkind.

You purse your lips and exhale as though talking to him is bothering you, to which he tightens his grip on your thigh but only seems to harbour genuine concern for you from the almost pained expression he’s serving you.

“It’s a joke. A prank, I mean.”

He releases a breath that you think he had been holding a while and you instantly feel more forms of guilt than delight at the success of your prank. “So you’re alright?” He asks. You nod. “Not upset, angry, or uncomfortable?” You nod.

With that affirmation, he groans and kisses your lips slowly, then trails down to your neck, eliciting a gasp from you. You apologise, and he shakes his head at you lightheartedly. “The older I get, the more convinced I am that these jokes of yours are going to kill me,” he sighs, to which you laugh and apologise again, kissing his forehead as he grumbles and nips at your skin.

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

What more could you ask for? Sat in your local park on a picnic mat, your husband beside you as he takes out the food he made and the cooler from the car. Moments like these reminded you of the smaller joys in life, notified you to cherish the pleasures taken for granted. Also, the fact that Toji was wearing a white compression shirt under his green plaid shirt allowed you a much-appreciated view of his straining muscles, even if he barely broke a sweat servicing you.

“That should be all,” he grunts, setting the cooler down beside you and locking the car. You rummage around through the bag of numerous food containers, eager to find your sandwich and stop the absolutely beastly noises that your stomach was emitting. “Thank you, baby,” you coo, petting his hair as he lays his head in your lap and stretches his legs out along the mat.

He smiles at the feeling of your fingers in his hair, then groans from the hunger shooting through him. “I think I, uh, should’ve packed more than these damn sandwiches,” he mumbles, sitting up to effortlessly pull your sandwich out from amongst the containers and hand it to you, before spreading the food out one by one - fruit, cheese, sodas, crackers. A mini charcuterie board, if you will.

You laugh at that and bite into your sandwich, humming your affirmation. Toji lifts your feet to place them in his lap, sanitises his hands, and begins wolfing down one of his sandwiches. You snort at the sound of his groan. He’s a big guy - a measly sandwich does nothing for his stomach. He should’ve taken that into account.

“Don’t laugh at me, woman,” he chuckles. He keeps his full mouth shut as he leans in to peck your cheek. Just before he can actually land the kiss, you lean your head to the side and avoid the contact. His brow furrows and he looks at you as though you just stabbed him and told him not to worry about it.

“Don’t wanna kiss you, Toji,” you say bluntly, continuing your meal as though you didn’t just outright reject him for no apparent reason.

He quirks a brow and pulls away, grabbing a grape he plans on eating but just ends up fiddling with as he observes you. “Did I forget somethin’?” He prompts, searching your expression for something that could give him insight as to what soured your mood. It wasn’t as though you were avoiding him completely. You were still being so sweet and, well, your usual self. It just seemed that it was the physical affection (more specifically, the kisses) you were avoiding, and he couldn’t understand why.

When you shake your head no, he shuffles closer and pulls you into his embrace. “Hugging you is just as nice,” he mutters into your hair, his cheek on the top of your head, his strong arms around your neck.

You’re almost frustrated that he didn’t get more upset. Why the hell is he so okay with not kissing you?

“Do you even want to kiss me?” You ask, turning to face him with a small pout and a furrowed brow.

He deadpans. “Was I not the one who initiated that kiss?”

“Yeah but like… you’re not complaining about the fact that you don’t get to kiss me.”

“Because I’m not going to force you when you obviously don’t want to.”

“It’s not about forcing me, it’s about— nevermind,” you grumble, turning back to your sandwich with half a mind to punch him for being so considerate and foiling your prank. You were getting more annoyed than he was from him not being able to kiss you. “Get off me,” you mumble, biting down on his arm.

He hisses and squeezes you tighter, pulling you back so that you’re right up against his chest. “Nah.” He grins, reaching for another grape, then a small slab of cheese.

You groan and slam your head back into him to get him off, but he uses his free hand to grab your jaw and keep your head still. “If you must be so childish,” he laughs, successfully managing to kiss your cheek, “tell me what’s wrong. If not, I’ll assume you’re just playin’.”

“I’m not.”

“Ooh, someone’s defensive, huh?” He practically sings. “Honestly though, tell me what’s up.”

There’s obviously nothing wrong, so you have to brainstorm what to do so that he’s convinced you’re not just messing around. “My sandwich tastes gross.”

“You’re a little tease, you know that?” He starts tickling you, making you spit out the food in your mouth and slap at his hands, trying to fight him off amidst a flurry of giggles and breathless protests. “Speak or forever hold your peace.”

“Alright, alright— oh my gosh, get off me!” You gasp, finally managing to push his hands off. “It was just a prank, you oaf. I don’t even think you deserve a kiss after that—”

He has your cheeks smushed in an instant, cutting you off and replacing your protest with a giggle at the odd expression he has you making. He grins toothily and dramatically smooches your puckered lips. “You play too much.”

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

“We genuinely need a bigger bed,” you murmur as you watch him lay on his back on your far-too-small bed. He motions you over and you climb up beside him and lay on his chest, him grunting when you rest your chin on his pecs.

“You’re digging your chin into me,” he states, a very subtle yet undeniable smile on his face.

“Oh no, am I hurting you?” You gasp, feigning concern. “Should I call a medic?” Sitting up so that you’re straddling his hips, you make a show of looking as though you’re utterly devastated at his pain. He deadpans and pulls you down so that you resume your first position, your chin on his chest again.

“I never said that,” he groans, wrapping two of his arms around you whilst you pepper his face with kisses. He goes in to catch your lips with his, but you slap a hand over his face and stop him from doing so. He sighs. “What are you doing now?”

“Don’t kiss me.”

“What are you on about?” Sukuna nibbles at your palm, his canines digging into your skin and making you pull your hand away with a small hiss. A third arm of his reaches up to play with your hair, whilst his fourth arm rests behind his head.

“Don’t kiss me,” you repeat matter-of-factly, as though you were reminding him of a tradition in your relationship. He gives you an incredulous look and pinches your lower back, making you yelp and smack him harsher than necessary. He chuckles lowly and moves in to kiss you again, to which you slap both hands on his face and elicit a groan from him.

“You’ve gone deaf in your old age, Ryo,” you tut, shoving his head back against the pillow.

“I’m more confused than deaf,” he mumbles into your hands, which you pull away after you think he won’t try kissing you again.

When he sits up and rolls you off to allow him to stand from the bed, you blink in confusion, startled by the sudden change in position. You think it’s getting to him, not being able to kiss you. He always was more physically affectionate than he was verbally, but he didn’t lack in any department. You watch as he seems to busy himself with tying his robe and stretching his arms, then almost scream bloody murder when he turns and launches himself at you.

He wrestles you into his embrace, all four of his arms around you to restrain yours as you protest and struggle against him. Your legs encircle his waist to provide leverage for you to fight him off, but it ends up trapping you in his embrace further as he squeezes you tightly and kisses your lips over and over through your breathless giggles and stuttered complaints.

“Get off— Ryo! Ow, stop it—” you snort, shaking your head back and forth to avoid his lips. One of his arms releases its hold on you only for his hand to grab your jaw and still your thrashing, making it easier for him to dote on you and take all that he wants from you.

You groan and feign annoyance, but he’s already well aware of your amusement. You love seeing him like this because you’re the only one who can see him like this.

He pulls away momentarily to let you catch your breath. “Do not deny me from you, woman. That is the only thing I cannot and will not stand,” he practically growls, nibbling at your neck. You squeeze your eyes shut and feel your heart pound in your chest, but you inhale deeply and compose yourself. When you begin to kiss the top of his head, he pokes at your sides and, when you snicker, lifts his head to smile, though it looks more like a feral grin.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You grab his hair and roll him over so that you straddle his hips while he lays on his back again.

“Stop teasing me,” he retorts, two of his arms shooting out to hug you to his chest. “You infuriating woman.”

[pseudophan]

there’s this one anon in particular who is so fascinating imo bc they seem to go around to a great deal of phannie blogs who are only ever nice people minding their own business. and this anon’s like committed enough to constantly be doing this and has been for months now. yet despite that they’re like… not committed enough to send any sort of unique HATE? it’s only ever the same copy-pasted “ur not funny” “do u ever shut up” “ugly ass art” etc and it’s like all clearly the same guy and it’s like… what do u even get out of this…. what is this for…

low self esteem, poor mental health, bad life situation, pick your poison i suppose. i know it's sooo cliché but most of the time it literally is just people's lives being kinda shitty and feeling the need to take it out on others. doesn't make it okay of course, but i find that keeping that in mind really does make rude comments online a lot less hurtful. hell for me personally i've had a fair few anons reach out and apologise for having been mean to me several years prior, and the reasoning is always some variation of the above, and frankly i don't even blame them. yeah man, shit sucks, and sometimes you're gonna be a dick because of it. like it's giving hollywood movie script but it's unfortunately so real lol. but i think that's also part of why it seems like a lot of very kind people on here get the rudest asks, because if you have a strong urge to be mean to others and have enough self awareness to dislike that about yourself, of course someone who's generally just nice is gonna piss you off further. like as a certified hater and occasional miserable cunt, BOY have i gotten irrationally annoyed at people who appear happy and/or nice all the time lmao, like i might not be sending hate to anyone but i do at least somewhat understand the emotions behind it. you just gotta power through and not take it out on them though, is the thing

but really though. anon hate is sooo embarrassing. i could preach about how it's Mean And Bad cause yeah that too, but let's focus on the most important aspect, which is how incredibly cringe it is..... if you absolutely have be mean, say it with your whole chest! i hate the bullying culture they've got going on over on twitter (as a whole not just the phannies) but at least they're owning it. anon hate is just a pussy move lmao, especially if it's lazy like whoever this person going around is, like you said. cmon lets be creative here. i can appreciate a good insult! it's an art form, really. i think about 'maybe if you didn't use the q slur your dad wouldn't have left you, thank u next' every week of my life and it's been six years or so since i got that ask

ok obligatory disclaimer that you obviously shouldn't be a dick to people even if you're creative about it, but like there's at least tiers here and i would say anonymously going "ur not funny" is at the absolute bottom of the list lol

[moeblob]

Terrified by this customer I helped today holy moly why would you say that while reading my name tag and saying my name please don't REPORT me for any behavior, good or bad. Just don't.

[seventh-district]

hhhrrrhggrghrghhhhhhh

ok i'm continuing my tag-yapping under a cut bc the tag limit can’t even hope to contain me this morning

CW: vent post (<- bc i don't have room for it in the tags and while this isn't quite like my typical vent posts, it definitely still has a lot of. idk. negative vibes. so. idk guys just scroll on by and leave me to my insanity)

(also i suppose i should warn for Arcane and Stranger Things spoilers, and Genshin Impact leaks. how did we get here idk this post is a fucking mess)

[continuing from where the tags left off]

like i have seen just enough spoilers to know that it’s gonna be another Eddie Stranger Things situation for me again. and that fixation was terrible man like don’t get me wrong i enjoy him a very normal amount these days and it’s fine but at the beginning??? i grieved that MF like he was a real person bro it was embarrassing. it literally brought me back to one of the worst emotional states i’ve ever suffered through. being prone to hyperfixating is fun and all until you’re sobbing in bed losing ur mind over missing someone that never even existed and you can’t function in your day-to-day life. then it’s not so fun. but anyways time lessens the pain of all wounds or whatever and i eventually became normal about Eddie. but like man. man i’ve got quite the feeling that Viktor will put me in a similar state. maybe hopefully not quite so bad but like. mmm. it would be a very bad idea to finally watch the show at this point in my life, given that things have quite literally never been worse and are only getting worse-er. but I Do Not Control The Fixation and i made the mistake of falling down a reaction-video rabbit hole on YT the other day. which i always regret bc i always end up on some random new misogynistic republican man’s channel who i’ve never heard of before and i just hurt my own feelings and it makes me lose hope in humanity and. it’s just always a bad time. like i only follow a very select few reaction channels who i actually enjoy but then i click on one (1) video and the fucking recommended videos always pull me in different directions and next thing i know it’s 3 hours later and i’m on a very different part of the internet and i realize oh there’s actually a lot of hate in the world. how did i get here. anyways.

about halfway down the rabbit hole i was watching some therapist guy reacting to Arcane bc i wanted to see his reaction to the Viktor and Jayce “Am I interrupting?” scene from S1EP2 bc it’s literally the only scene i’ve watched in-full (yes i engage with media in a very non-linear way don’t ask why there’s just something wrong with me) and bro. when i fucking tell you it felt like i got hit by a truck the moment Viktor was on screen— ,,,….,.,… like i didn’t realize how long it’d been since i’d seen it. and i. you know that meme that’s like “hyperfixation so bad i can’t engage with the source material”? yeah i experience that. like a lot. and i had one of those moments then. bc like. i’ve enjoyed his character for a long time. from a… distance? bc i’ve just never been ready to let the fixation fully hit me. ….. dear god i’ve been microdosing blorbos. jesus christ that’s funny. anyways where was i.

yeah i like. i read a bit of Viktor fanfic and admire fanart and gifs from the show and i have learned some of the gist of what’s going on with him through a particular creator’s rp audios that i have played to absolute death bc they’re very good. so i’m like. already attached to the character. he’s up there in my head with all the other blorbos. but i’ve never fully engaged with the source material. and so when he came on screen in that guy’s reaction video it was like. idk how to describe it. staring at the sun? or like. taking too much of a drug… idk i can’t. find the right metaphor. but it was just. Intense and it hit me all at once and i literally had to close the video like— i couldn’t take it lmfao. but ever since that i’ve got this urge to finally watch the show in full. but i’ve gathered through out-of-context screenshots and bits of people’s reactions to S2 that he.. dies? i think?? possibly more than once??? like i don’t really know any details and have very little context to go off of but i am surmising that he loses himself in hextech and goes robo-jesus mode in his search for тhe Glorious Ovulation or whatever the fuck is going on in this show that he then. dies?? with Jayce??? or ascends to the astral realm or some shit. like i literally have no clue what’s going on in that screenshot that was all over tumblr for a while after S2 dropped but. something is happening and i think it’s gonna be sad. (lmao i'm rereading this and i gotta say the Russian T wasn't intentional, i was typing too fast and accidentally switched keyboards instead of capitalizing it. but it made me laugh so i'm leaving it)

and like. i recognize that a character’s death can serve a respectable purpose in a good story and death is an inevitable part of life and all that. i respect it. but u must also understand that i am a sensitive little baby who has to endure enough angst in my real life that i selfishly want all my fave little blorbos to live forever and ever and happily ever after off into the sunset. okay? duality of man or whatever. (well, the happily part isn’t rlly necessary. i love angst i just hate death. they don’t gotta be happy forever they just gotta be alive. there is. a Reason that one of Saoirse’s defining characteristics is their infinite revivals resulting in effective immortality. all the angst of death with none of the permanence. and there’s a Reason that a lot of my favorite characters are Gods and angels and demons and vampires and werewolves and cyborgs and automatons. long-life species. i want so much more time than i’m ever gonna get and i Will project that onto the media i create and consume. next question.) so. where was i. oh yeah. so like. while i Accept the fact that Viktor’s presumably gonna die. i just know it’s gonna be an Eddie situation with me again and i don’t think my fragile psyche can handle that rn. so i guess i’ll just suppress the desire to watch Arcane until morale improves.

which is probably wise regardless of the emotional impact it’ll have on me given that i’m in one of my migraine-prone phases again and i know myself well enough to know damn well that if i start watching it rn i’ll binge the whole thing in like 2 days, induce a god-awful migraine from the screen-staring and lose touch with reality in the process. and hate myself for wasting time on a show when i could be doing literally anything else. like that’s a major reason i hardly ever watch anything anymore bc it just makes me feel more guilty for being lazy. bc like. in my mind if i’m writing or coloring or playing a game or engaging in any hobby that requires me to interact with it in some way, i can feel less bad for wasting time on it bc i’m at least Doing something. but watching a show or a movie or even a YT video just feels that much more lazy bc i’m literally just laying in bed staring at a screen not moving or using my brain. and i realize that i wouldn’t ever criticize someone else for it but. there’s another standard when it comes to me. like i know i should be studying and learning and working and cleaning and exercising and socializing and forcing myself to attend to all the adult responsibilities that are piling up on me. so if i’m gonna keep avoiding them then the least i could do is do something at least pseudo-productive instead. (even if that’s spending 2 hours yapping on Tumblr about how i can’t decide what to do today. apparently)

OKAY it's 12pm and i'm back. i drafted this post and forced myself out of bed, gave the entire bathroom a good cleaning, straightened up the living room, cleaned all the trash out of my bedroom, put a honeysuckle cube in my wax melter, got some ice cream and now i'm back to finish yapping.

the storms seem to have let up and i Should get in the shower but now my back hurts and i'm tired bc i have enough energy for approximately 1.5 tasks per day. so i'll just stay greasy until tomorrow. and due to the way the shower drains in this dysfunctional house i'll still have to speedrun my shower even then, or manually drain the septic tank since the ground is so saturated with water rn. and god it's supposed to rain more in a few days.. this is not gonna be good for the mold and structural problems. sigh. anyways where was i. god this post got long i am just a yapping machine today aren't i? we're taking the 'public diary' tag to heart with this one, boys

okay i got dragged away to deal with some stupid shit and it's now past 1pm and the smell of the wax melt is threatening to bring my migraine back and making my throat hurt and the sugar from the ice cream is making me feel sick. so today is falling apart spectacularly as per usual and i will likely get nothing else done except the dinner i have to make. maybe i'll be able to force myself to brush my teeth before bed. i love being mentally ill it's great we have fun here. /sarc

i hate how i've only got 10 or so hours of energy in me these days even though i get plenty of sleep. i wanna go to beeeeed and the rain outside the window is lulling me. anyways. i Will finish this comically long vent post if it's the last thing i do today.

take a shot every time i say anyways.

o k a y. it is nearly 5pm. and i might, just maybe might, finally be able to sit down and finish this. i am now finally back at my desk with pain thrumming in my back and legs and knees and my tummy is grumbling. but the overwhelming honeysuckle smell in my room has dissipated and my migraine hasn't returned yet and at least i can relax in a nice quiet dark cool 63 degree room after spending hours in a loud brightly lit 78 degree environment. so that's something to be grateful for. god bless my AC unit

maybe one day i'll get the chance to live a life that's actually my own. but until then i suppose there's always escapism!

speaking of, all day i've had my new Venti fic on my mind. calling it a fic sounds too.. grandiose? but it's too big to be a oneshot. what do you call a ~20k word story split into a few chapters. 'novella' sounds way too fancy to be used for fanfic. 'short story' sounds generic and also implies that it's original content. i guess it's just a small fic. a mini-fic maybe. yet another oneshot that got way outta hand. his rerun banner goes live on the uh.. 16th i think. and if i lock in i Could get the fic ready to post by then. and i think i'd like to. but there's no telling what happens in my day-to-day life that might prevent me from doing so. and it's not like there's really any good reason that i'm trying to make the two things line up, i just like using arbitrary days and dates as a source of motivation ig. but we're getting a bit of a Mondstadt revival(!!!) in 5.6 so i could also wait until then and it would still feel kinda celebratory. but it's an angsty story so idk why i'm trying to pair it up with a happy day anyways lmao. his birthday is coming up on 6/16 so i've got 2 days and 10 months. .. god i'm more tired than i thought. okay nope lets try that again. i've got 2 months and 10 days to get either the last chapters of Heaven In Hiding or some other new little fic ready to go up if i wanna post something else for his birthday. or maybe my real life horrors will take precedence and i won't get anything finished in time. that's a very real possibility.

i've been getting the urge to write for ES and [N]MbD again too. and i finally played through the Banana Outrage quest from HSR 2.6 and am now sitting on several ideas for Boothill comfort and reverse comfort oneshots. and i feel like there was some other character i had an idea to write for but my tired brain cannot recall it, if it ever existed. i've been sitting on a finished Ghost Band Dew x Reader OCD comfort fic for aaages now but i'm. embarrassed about it bc i just bullshit.. bullshitted.. bullshat? my way through the entire premise/setup and i feel like it's silly or inaccurate bc i have. Zero idea how a ministry.. monastery?.. church? thingy?? like whatever exists in the Ghost lore actually works. like i'm not even trying to adhere to canon so i guess i have as much creative freedom as i want but i also feel like what i wrote is unrealistic even within the fanon interpretations. and Dew is probably ooc anyway.. so i've been toying with the idea of scrapping the whole thing and rewriting the fic for a third time with some other character from another media that i know better. but hhhhhhh maybe one day i'll just be brave and post it and let ppl make fun of me if it sucks. like i'm not nervous about the actual OCD-comfort aspect bc i know exactly how to handle that. but the world i set the scene in is one i am not familiar enough with. idk, it feels.. forced, to me. which is funny bc the original version of the fic was with Eddie Stranger Things instead 😭 same OCD comfort premise just. different blorbo in a different setting. but my fixation on him waned and i hadn't fully fleshed the scene out yet anyway so i just scrapped it and used the idea for a Dew Ghost fic instead. but i've sat on it for so long that that fixation has waned as well and now i'm like... do i keep recycling this stupid oneshot for different blorbos indefinitely or what? idk. it's Overthinking Hours rn i guess

my Point is that i hate how as soon as i tell myself 'No More Fics Until You Get A Damn License' i suddenly have ideas and motivation for ten different projects. and yes i know it's probably just my avoidance manifesting itself. wanting to busy myself with writing so i can feel productive while avoiding my greatest fears. but knowing that doesn't change that it's happening!! i am sitting here hyper-self-aware in a hell of my own creation!!

but i should know better by now than to think i can force myself to do something by denying myself other things. it always ends up with me just doing nothing instead. there is no force strong enough to motivate me until the consequences of inaction become genuinely unbearable. and brother i can bear a lot in the name of avoidance.

and it's not like the environment i'm in is whatsoever encouraging me. maybe i'd feel different about it if i had a safe, functional vehicle to drive instead of something that won't even pass the safety inspection. maybe i'd feel different about it if i knew it wasn't gonna run me another $100+ a month on insurance i can't afford and legally have to have. maybe i'd feel different about it if i had someone i liked and trusted that would be patient with me and encourage me every day and teach me everything i need to know instead of just. expecting me to magically obtain all of this knowledge bc i'm 'smart'. like. my father in christ the apple unfortunately doesn't fall that far from the dumbass tree. just because i know a few big words and can weave them together decently when i try real hard doesn't mean everything comes easy to me. i was never all that 'gifted' i'm just good at memorizing shit. i dropped out of school the very second shit got too hard. i have never in my life learned how to study anything. i am a spoiled little baby who never had to try hard and now if it doesn't genuinely hold my attention/pique my interest/fixate me or i can't memorize it within a very short period of time, any and all information will simply bounce right back off of my brain. so tell me how in the fuck i'm supposed to force myself to study something that i not only couldn't care less about, but actively fear. how do i do it.

'you do it scared' yeah yeah i know. i've heard. but unfortunately until the conces get closer to quencing and life forces my hand, i'm afraid i'm just gonna sit here maladaptively playing with silly little characters in my mind and miserably avoiding all my fears just like i have for the past decade.

anyways. what a day. it's 6pm so i've hit my 16-hour consciousness quota and wanna crash in bed but i should try to push it a little further so maybe i'll wake up at a more normal time tomorrow. and just as i figured it might, this unintentional day-long post has chronicled the often-occurring scenario where i stress out about how to spend my day and then the whole day just kinda slips away from me anyways and i don't get anything done that i wanted to. typical Sunday vibes i suppose.

while i won't be watching any shows or doing any writing tonight and don't even feel in the mood to do any gaming, mayhaps i'll linger on Tumblr for a little while longer and fill up my queue so i can feel like i at least did one of the things i thought about doing this morning. i do wish i were more consistently active on this blog bc believe it or not i Do love it here. i'm just often too tired to do just about anything but the bare minimum these days and sadly, blogging is not on that priority list.

but it's not often these days that i put so many of my thoughts into words like i have here and tbh i'm feeling kinda drained now so i might just work on a coloring page, eat my mashed potatoes and let my brain go quiet with some youtube video in the background. that sounds nice. /gen

goodnight, Tumblr.

[genderqueerdykes]

if you are a trans boy, especially a teenage trans boy, i wanted to say that as a trans man in their 30's, you have my deepest respects and condolences for what you may be going through right now.

it has become socially acceptable and basically online custom to bully teenage trans boys & mascs, call them cringy, or excuse misgendering them for whatever reason. people put trans boys on this pedestal of "must perform masculinity and manhood to cartoonish degrees" even though they're still children.

people make trans boys fight for their manhood before they can even be boys. i am sorry people can be so judgmental and harsh on you. you are not wrong for wanting to be a boy. you are experiencing something wonderful. it's okay if you still want to be a boy even if people have treated you poorly, or tried to make you feel bad for being a boy. there is nothing wrong with being a boy.

it's okay if you never socially transition. it's okay if you're afraid to come out because it's not safe. it's okay if you never change your outward appearance. it's okay if you try very hard to pass but struggle to. it's okay if you wear "women's" clothing and shoes, bras, makeup, etc., it's okay if you're gay and love other men. it's okay if you're scared of hrt. it's okay if you don't want surgery. it's okay if you mainly occupy girl's spaces still. people will find every reason to pick these things apart and ridicule trans boys for, but they are all perfectly fine experiences that do not make you any less of a boy. you are the one who is in control of your transition, presentation, and state of being- you should be able to prioritize your safety over the comfort of random strangers who have no impact over how you live your life.

i've been put through this too, but later in life as i came out when i was an adult. people still try to make me feel bad for identifying as a trans man, for whatever reason they have in their head to justify hatred of a trans person. i've had enough. there will never be an excuse for how people try to excuse the infantilization and abuse that trans men and trans boys face.

take care of yourselves, no matter what age you are, if you are a trans boy, man, or masc you deserve to know that other trans men care about you, especially when people are scrambling to find ways to punch down on you. there are people who suck, but there are also a lot of people who care about you. keep your chin up. you know who you are

[notquitecanon]

Search History // Poly!141 x Reader

A continuation of this thought

Summary: Reader (based loosely on Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds) has to be face-to-face with the boys for the first time since they started including her in their late-night fantasies. They've decided it's time to take it off-screen and move in IRL.

I'm taggin the peeps who replied to the last part bc I'm desperate for attention lol (in all actuality y'all really encouraged me to actually write thank you!!)

CW: allusions to porn, allusions to female genitalia, they're all horny in the workplace, this is basically workplace harassment but we're excusing it because they're hot and fictional and I say so, no outright smut

Still nsfw though so MDNI pls and thanks

“The 141 just touched down. ETA twenty minutes.” 

Your eyes flicked up from the muted video on your monitor, cheeks flushed red but masked by the light radiating off your screen in your dark office. Thank God, your monitor faced away from the door. A young private was standing in the doorway with a tablet, looking at you for an acknowledgment, probably running about starting preparations for their arrival back on home base. 

“Thank you, private.” You murmured, teeth toying at your thumbnail, chipping the polish. The young soldier gave a short nod at the quiet dismissal and disappeared once again. Your eyes, with embarrassingly blown pupils, flicked back to the video. 

After your discovery two weeks ago, the sites and links you had to review furthered down the rabbit hole. And this video you were currently watching had been one that all the men had been visiting, and revisiting, and revisiting… 

By god, they’d done it. 

Similar build, skin tone only a shade or two different - you could probably share foundation and it wouldn’t look too bad. Hair and eye color so close it was uncanny. And when the woman looked over her shoulder at the mountain of a man hitting it from the back, the angle made the resemblance almost scarily uncanny.  The Had you had a porn career and simply forgotten?- kind of uncanny. 

Sure there were differences- she was a little taller, maybe a bit leaner, with boobs that had definitely had some work done. Tattoos where your skin was bare and vice versa, different piercings. Her voice was pitched different, and her accent was completely different from yours but within three minutes of the video she’d stopped speaking words, so accent didn’t matter much.  But as far as porn actresses went- she might as well be your twin. 

It seemed the 141 had perused her entire.. filmography. Different videos, different scenarios, different partners. They all had videos they seemed to like better than others. Soap seemed to particularly like the POV video where the man had a thick Scottish accent. Gaz had bookmarked a soft-core bondage and forced orgasm scene. Price, a shorter video of an unseen man pushing the actress under a desk for oral, and Ghost… the only link he’d visited was your instagram. It was hard not to let it stroke your ego a little bit. 

God, if you told anyone about this… They’d tell you to file a workplace harassment suit, and maybe a police report.  To start job hunting, and therapist hunting. Distance yourself. You should have been embarrassed or uncomfortable- you knew you should be. That you should feel objectified or disrespected, disgusted. 

But hell, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t send yourself the links and watched them in your free time at home. It was hot- turned you on in an almost concerning way that would set feminism back twenty years if you told anyone. 

The video kept playing on your monitor, one of the videos that Soap had visited more than once (little did you know it was one that Ghost had picked out). A gloved hand smoothly glided down the actress's spine before curving around her throat and pulling her upright on the man’s lap, filthy praises in a British accent playing through your single AirPod. 

“Holy shit…”  You muttered, thighs clenching because if you squinted it really did look like you, even some of her mannerisms. And the rough accent was like a mix of Ghost's and Price’s. 

Abruptly, you shut down the entire monitor completely, ripping out the AirPod and tossing it on the desk. Pressing slightly shaking hands to your too hot face. You needed to get it together, because Price was your boss and the others were your superiors. They’d been gone for a month and a half, and it’d been your voice in their ears guiding them through missions, and you knew you had a flirty disposition, especially from the private safety of your dark little office half way across the world. 

It made sense that their wires got a little crossed, but your wires- like those off all your monitors and hardware- needed to stay neatly organized and separate. Focus. Focus. 

Your nails were bitten to the quick, the bitter taste of old nail polish on the back of your tongue. The skin around your nails was raw from your teeth toying with it as your so intensely focussed on the videos. You needed to get out of this too small, too hot room.  Which is how you found yourself, twenty minutes later, in the communal break room fighting with the vending machine. It was withholding the ice cold water you were desperate for, despite your curses and attempts to jostle the machine. Right as you delivered a frustrated kick to the machine-

“Just the bird we were looking for!” 

It was Kyle’s voice first, that tipped you off to the herd of men entering the space. You almost jumped out of your skin- brain flitting through several scandalous snippets of the videos he’d replayed. His smile was dazzling as always as he came into view, tapping the yellow warning stickers that instructed people not to jostle the machine, with the little illustration of the stick man getting crushed, “What’d the machine ever do to you? It might start fighting back.” 

A gloved hand reached between the two of you, skeleton fingers curled into a fist that delivered a blunt strike, and, like magic, the water bottle fell in to the receptacle. You peeked over your shoulder at Ghost, standing just slightly too close and looking down at you intensely, but not meanly. An easy to miss bit of mirth that was usually reserved for Soap. Thank god you’d bitten your nails to stubs or they would’ve drawn blood from how they were digging into your palms to distract you from the gloved hands and the brutish display of strength. 

Kyle put the drink sweetly in your hands after cracking it for you, like he would do when bringing Ghost or Price something, eyes twinkling like he knew something you didn’t.  Another hand, warm and large clapped gently on your shoulder, pulling you back a step, almost directly into Captain Price’s chest. 

The men shared a look over your head before focussing back on you. 

“Your intel was good.” It was a simple statement, but delivered in a warm, proud tone that felt so much like praise that your stomach flipped a bit, with that warm smile that made him look soft despite the fact he was still in full tac-gear, “They didn’t even see us coming.” 

“They never see you coming, that’s kind of your whole thing.” You tried a joke, your voice a touch strained. His hand was lingering, right on the curve where your shoulder became your neck, fingers flexing into the flesh just so. Just like it did on the boys when he thought others wouldn’t noticed. focus, focus, focus. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, it was Soap that interrupted the kneading of Price’s fingers. 

“Don’t be so modest, bonnie!” He was laughing as large arms caught you around the waist, lifting and spinning you slightly. His voice so similar to that one Scottish co-star that had done such filthy things to your lookalike, it made your head spin.  Despite your startled yelp and squirming, his grip didn’t waver, “Couldn’t of done it without our lass in the chair.” 

“ ’nough, Johnny,” Ghost called firmly, leaning against the vending machine that they’d all but cornered you against, “Put ‘er down.” 

Soap’s laugh was still good natured as he set you on your feet again, a little roughly for the heels you had on to match your skirt, you wobbled only for Ghost himself to steady you, giving you another intense look, that you had trouble meeting, “ 'e’s right though. Intel was good.” 

They were all staring at you, varying degrees of smirks, eyes a spectrum of mischief and something that was dizzyingly close to hunger.  Unable to keep still, you were squirming, shifting your weigh from foot to foot, fiddling with the wrapper on the bottle. You found your eyes flitting around settling anywhere but their own gaze, cheeks feeling hot, mind full of vile images that you knew they’d seen and enjoyed- ceiling, the exit sign, Johnny’s tac-vest, the floor, the water bottle in your hands. You gulped, eyebrows raising as you puffed a breath, trying desperately to reign yourself in.

“Glad to be of service.” You smiled tightly, nodding meeting each set of eyes briefly and hoping your foundation masked your blush (it didn’t). Jesus Christ, you couldn’t do this.  You couldn’t tell if you felt turned on or awkward or both, but you needed to go. Preferably before you did something that would cost you your job. Your voice was rushed as you squeezed between Gaz and Price, double timing it to the exit, “Enjoy your leave, boys, you deserve it.” 

As you all but fled the building, you typed out a mass base-wide memo email, language formal as you professionally reminded every soldier, specifically four of them, that any website visited by government devices was subject to internal review. 

You swore you could hear them laughing as the memo went out. But maybe that was just your overactive imagination. 

____

You’d gone home for the evening, and then clocked back in the following morning. Surprised to find all of the 141 was still there, debriefing must have ran long. 

“Morning, love.” It was Kyle that greeted you, pressing a cup of coffee into your hands. He looked tired but happy to see you. Soap was with him, eyes bright and grin wide as he whistled lowly, fingers tugging at the hem of your skirt as you passed his seat. 

“Looking good, bonnie,” He smiled devilishly, rubbing the fabric between his fingers before letting go, “Tired of all the green, black, and beige tac gear. Missed seeing something a little… softer.”  

You somewhat doubted that. He seemed to appreciate military khaki when it hugged Gaz’s ass, and he sure didn’t seem to mind an all black tactical ensemble when it was on Ghost. But the compliment still brought heat up your neck, which you coupled with a sip of the hot coffee Gaz had brought you- fixed perfectly the way you liked it. It elicited a pleased sigh as you swallowed, humming in content. 

“Price wants to see you before we all leave. Brought you some new stuff to work on.” Kyle smiled, watching how your expression softened at the taste of the beverage, clearly proud of himself for drawing out that reaction.   

“A present? For me?” You smiled sarcastically back at the prospect of more work added to you caseload, “It’s like Christmas.” 

“You been good this year?” Kyle grinned back, accompanied by Soap chiming, voice low and chiding, “Nah, she’s definitely been naughty.” 

Both Sergeant’s shared a look as you almost choked on another sip of coffee. 

“I’m leaving now.” You shook your head, turning on your heel away from where they were hanging around the rec room, clearly waiting for Price to dismiss them, “Y’all should shower. Or take a nap.” 

“You want us naked?” Kyle questioned, raising his eyebrows at you, leaning back against the wall, standing so very close to Soap, who was sprawled out in his chair, long legs splayed and spread before him as he waggled his eyebrows. “And in bed?” 

Now that was some imagery. Taking the lord’s name in vain you didn’t dignify that with a response other than a huffed, “Leaving now.” 

____

The good thing about Price and Ghost was they were business first. So if you really focussed you could almost ignore Ghost's thigh pressed against yours as you sat beside him in the dark room, reviewing body cam footage. They pointed out different things to you, things to include as you started your next dark web deep dive. 

You could almost ignore how Price’s fingers grazed and lingered on your palm as he gave you a thumb drive to decrypt and analyze, how he stood close enough to you that you had to look at him through your lashes. 

“Has a self destruct program that Gaz didn’t want t' aggravate. Figured it needed your... soft touch.” Price smiled down at you as you curled your fingers around the thumb drive. You had to try pretty hard to ignore the slight emphasis on soft. Ghost seemed to chuckle lowly at your expression at the captain. 

“What’s on there'll point us in the next direction of our next target.” Ghost nodded to you, his leg shifting so it pressed harder against yours. In the guise of stretching out, he’d draped an arm over the back of your chair, the cotton of his gloves half tickling the sensitive skin on the back of your bicep, where the flesh was soft. 

“So don’t screw it up, got it.” You swallowed thickly, shifting so you couldn’t feel his thumb against your skin- it was making it hard to think about hacking and terrorism and military operations.  He took it as an invitation to spread out more, his fingers grazing the exact spot only seconds later. 

“Precisely,” John laughed lowly, his hand moved to your shoulder, back into that sweet curve that was partly your shoulder and partly your neck, and gave it a lingering squeeze, that kind of made you want to melt, “You won’t screw it up, love.” 

The captain gave his Lieutenant a nod, and Ghost quickly stood, his boot giving the toe of your pretty heels a slight nudge as a goodbye before silently stalking out. Price took a seat across from you, leaning back and his arms cross comfortably over his chest.

“I’m having the boys over at mine tonight. A couple of drinks, I’m gonna grill, put the footie on, celebrate another successful mission to start our leave.” Price listed out their plans casually, noting how you squirmed a bit, uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you tugged at the hem of your skirt before continuing, “We want you to come. Couldn’t have done it without you, so you should celebrate it too.” 

“Oh, uh-“ You started before you could think of a good excuse, “I’ll be really busy… with.. with the flash drive. And stuff.” 

“What stuff?” Price rose a single brow, his stare pinning you still as he reached across the table and took the flash drive back, “This can wait.” 

“Files. Coding. Security checks.” You mumbled the first couple aspects of your job that came to mind, the intensity of his gaze making you want to adjust your collar or shrink in your seat. You figured you’d have a couple more sites to clear off their devices, if they’d been sitting around base all night. Your cheeks heated just at the thought. “I’m a little behind. Been… distracted lately."

“Everything all right, love?” He ‘asked’ with at signature warm smile and amused eyes, he seemed to already know the answer to his question, “You’ve been… skittish, since we got back.” 

Your teeth worried the seam of your lips as you considered the question. Skittish, was one way to put it- fidgety, fleeing rooms, avoiding eye contact, barely speaking as opposed to your usual chatter and banter. Your eyes flitted away from his gaze again, swallowing dryly again- geez when did you get so shy, “ ‘m fine. Absolutely fine. Never been better. How’re you?” 

Cringing at your own rambling, you sighed shoulders drooping as he fixed you with another look, and muttered your name in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a look that expected obedience, as his legs shifted into a natural man spread. Your brain flitted back to the video of your look alike being shoved under a desk… 

Him saying your name again, slightly louder but just as bemused drew you back to him, realizing you were staring at his legs, debating if you could fit between his knees and you almost sputtered as you cleared your throat, “I’m fine, really.” 

“Either lie more convincingly or tell me what’s bothering you, sweet.”  Price chuckled, leaving forward against the table, drumming a knuckle against the table. Sweet, that was new. You’d have to add it to the laundry list of nicknames and pet names the boys had for you. You’d always told yourself that it was nothing personal, that British/Scottish people just did that. But this on wasn’t as easy to write off as ‘love’ or ‘bonnie’, average pet names in the UK colloquial, no sweet seemed personal. 

“I’m not bothered.” You glanced away again, nose wrinkling, even though you were bothered- hot and bothered. John Price had a way of drawing details out of people with just a look and a couple of well prodded words.  With a deep breath, you tried to keep your characteristic rambling to a minimum, a losing battle as he starting stroking at his beard with those long fingers- two parts of him that you’d been thinking about way too much lately-, “Listen, I’m not judging, you’re grown men, watch what you want to, but just a reminder that it’s my job and obligation to review every link and site that government devices visit. Which includes at least skimming videos.  In case you didn’t know or maybe forgot that I can and do see these things, so maybe you could pass that along to the boys-“ 

“You can tell 'em yourself. ’s your job, sweet.” Price said firmly. The girlish part of your brain corrected ‘firmly’ to dominantly. Before his demeanor relaxed again, giving you an amused, appraising look again, “At my place. Tonight. 8 o’clock. Not a request.” Shrinking in your chair a bit, hoping the chair hid the way your thighs involuntarily clenched, you couldn’t help but nod and squeak, “Yes, sir.” 

___

Part Two

Was supposed to have actually smut in this but I got carried away on the build-up, laugh out loud. Maybe a part three or you can just imagine how the little dinner party goes (hint, she's the meal)

Tags: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @viviennevianna @savas-q1 @cringeycookies @lainey-laines @buttercup337 @acosmisted @carqueensworld @tmartin0918 @dreamland08 @sheepdogchick @hidden-wildflowers @lilynotdilly @astrxsee @joopyjup @originalsoulcollector @henhouse-horrors @ohdrey89 @red5tars @cod-z @balletbiscuit @spacecrawllerr @scrumptioussportstoadgarden-blog @blues-of-neptune @monster-effer @yunho-leeknow @ungodlydilf @pluviofleur @jandthecrow @fangtoothgod @coquetterie-dancer @sapphires-and-silver-things @ghost-is-my-bbg @loveergirll @silly-starfish @popkle @honestlymassivetrash @not-mentally-sane @devoetee @beloveds-embrace @jellyamour @simon141price @divinecat

[ourceliumnetwork]

i did the biggest and scariest of the things on my list (the last thign on my list in fact) and it took like. MAYBE 5 minutes total including login time navigation and page loading.

now i get to have fancy Oreo Poptarts because i'm a big strong boy whose knee is slightly dislocated (it's fine i just went too hard and i'll wrap it up here in a minute) and did a big scary thing and also now gets to fully devote brain power to anxiety about the (potential) hole between two of my heart chambers and the accompanying doctor's appointment tomorrow morning.

[angel-eyes05]

going over easy

pairing: bob reynolds x powered!thunderbolts!fem!reader

summary: two of the same. after breaking through inital barriers, you and the sentry appear to be inseperable, a pull almost forcing you two to each other. the strength of that pull has been getting pretty testy recently, and the two of you begin to wonder who you are to the other.

warnings/info: nsfw and mdni warning by the end of the fic, ill section off that part if you just wanna read the cutey parts, veryyyyyyy soft sex, no use of y/n, this bob is gonna be a little different from how i see him in a lot of other fics so disclaimer about that ig, but dw he's still very soft and sweet, oral sex and fingering (f!receiving), self depreciation on readers side, lots of my headcanons are gonna shine through here, reader is powered as well (yes that is gonna play into this lol) and is less of a blank slate than usual (aka shes kinda side rip), a scene in the void so we can know reader a little more and just for plot purposes lol, bob's powers are gonna be limited to whatever we saw showcased in thunderbolts so please dont get picky if somethings comic inaccurate thanks, its bob so ofc theres a little bit of angst too but dw this is very fluffy as well we love being well rounded lol

word count: 13.3k

notes: so guess who's obsessed with thunderbolts now.....and guess what half of the reasoning is.....if your guess was a man YOUD BE RIGHT!!!! i had to write for him ofc, i put a steve harrington fic on pause for this i had to jump on it lol. one thing i will say about bob fics that annoy me is that ofc everyone turns bob into a cutesy pootsy uwu boy which, hate me or whatever, he is NOTTTTT to me, that man was so sassy and sarcastic in the vault (to walker especially lol) so i wanted that to come out a little more here while still being his naturally sweet and soft self. i go a little bit into 2016 mcu fandom mode on some of the early character descriptions and relationships BUT CAN YOU BLAME A GIRL CAUSE IT FEELS SO GOOD TO BE BACK, I JUST HAD TO </3. i also didnt proofread this cause yet again its like 1am when im posting this and im so tired so if you catch anything uhhhh my bad lol. anyways this is standard to most of my other fics, so have fun lol enjoy!!!

dividers by: @cafekitsune

You always overcooked your eggs. It was part of your routine at this point in your life. As a kid, your irrationally large fear of getting salmonella caused you to force your mom to always burn your eggs, chicken, and other foods of the sorts. It didn't even taste bad to you. It was all you had ever known. Uncomfortable, but natural. You scooped the rubbery eggs out of the pan and onto your plate while you attempted to squirt whatever ketchup you could out of the bottle. Taking your lunch, you leaned on the kitchen island and stared out of the sweeping windows of The Watchtower.

Valentina finding you was complicated. On one hand, you were out of the hell hole of a compound you called a home. However though, her manipulation paired with constant missions and training proved to be its own task entirely. And still with all that, your mind had a knack for traveling back to that dark, damp room. Like a looming threat over your head that if you ever messed up, that's where you would return.

That fear pushed you for the past few years. You worked till your bones cracked fixing up Valentina's messes. It was monotonous, but you had convinced yourself to be grateful for the opportunity to become something more with what you had. You had a special gift after all. Thrusted onto you, sure, but Valentina said that it meant you were worth something now. A living shield and sword. Each time you got hit, your body was able to process the kinetic energy into physical blasts. Meaning dodging an attack was actually bad form on your part. So you got hit. A lot. Most days you'd stumble back to your apartment, knocked in the head so silly you didn't know what was up or down.

But it was good work. Kept you busy. That was until Valentina attempted to have you assassinated, trying to tie up all her loose ends. That's all you were to her at the end of the day. A fly on the way she had to clean up before her guests arrived. Turns out though, she had lots of other flies on the walls, who would in fact turn their forces against her, becoming the world's New Avengers in the process.

One of Yelena's first personal tasks on the job was to find any other lost associates of Valentina. Lucky for you, you fell right into that category. After proving yourself physically capable and trustworthy to her and the rest of the team, you eventually joined as an official member. Your rise to glory had been long and tough, but man was the view from the top nice.

As you grew closer with each of the teammates, you noticed each of their little knick-knacks. Yelena was very easy to let you in, almost like she was begging to share herself with someone else. She must've gotten it from her father, Alexei. He didn't take anything more than four hours to warm up to you. The other three went at a much slower pace, Ava and you eventually bonding over your mutual teasing for Walker, who you made sure knew it was all in good fun. Bucky was last, but it seemed thats how he was with most people. You let him take his time, which seemed to work well in the end. All of them had made their way.

Well. Almost.

Bob was kind of a weird guy. He was kind of an Avenger? But not really? If anything, he was more of their dog that would show up to public appearances with you and the team, but never missions. He spent most of his time lounging around or cleaning up the Watchtower, or in sessions with his therapist. He was always looming around, but kept a specific distance. Mainly physical. Whenever you'd seem to be about to brush by him, he'd scatter away, like a cat who got spooked. You had talked to Yelena about it before, but she said to just give him his time. That this was probably natural after his "incident" a few months back.

You weren't in New York for it, but it of course was on the news everywhere. How a sea of black ink had devoured the city and all of its civilians in their own personalized trauma nightmare. Something you were secretly grateful to have missed. You knew exactly what you'd see if you were in there.

In the recent time of your arrival, you had managed to find and take up your role in your little group. Their own little weird mage, banned from making food for anyone but yourself. No one else liked your burnt food, big shocker.

As you wrapped up with said burnt lunch, you took your plate and utensils to the sink, as a pair of bare feet patted into the room. "Good morning sleepyhead," you called out, knowing who they belonged to already. "Morning's a bit of a stretch, it's like what, 1:30 already?" Bob replied, mid yawn. "I told you guys to start forcing me up earlier," he complained. "Yeah yeah, but Yelena says it's good for you. Your body needs its rest after the serum treatment," you retorted. "Doesn't..." he paused mid sentence to check his sleep tracker on his watch. "....14 hours seem like a little much?" "Hey, your body's gonna take what it needs," you said, finally turning around to face him. He was wearing his usual lounge outfit, a gigantic, comically oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. His body had grown incredibly sensitive to touch after the serum, so the less fabric tightening down on him, the better.

Bob gave a half smile to your comment and attempted to wipe the drowsiness off his face. "You can leave that for me, it's fine," Bob commented, as you took the dish soap and drizzled it over your dirty plate and pan. "I don't mind, I'm already here anyways," you insisted, turning on the tap. Bob sighed and shrugged his shoulders backwards in an attempt to wake his body up. "Alright, but I'm taking charge on the stovetop," he insisted, walking over to your area.

Something must've been in the air today, because this was the most Bob had talked to you in a while, and this was definitely the closest he had stood near you ever before. His presence was a sweet one, as he himself was a sweet guy. You had seen it in the way he acted with everyone else. You knew it probably had to deal with the fact that you were the newcomer, a different face than what he was used to, but you wanted to badly to have something that close with him too. A deep, lingering jealousy had proved to be a close friend of yours when you would see how he would act with John or Yelena compared to how he would act with you.

Hopefully, this was a step in the right direction.

"You know where the others went?" Bob almost immediately asked.

Or maybe not.

"Downstairs in a meeting with Valentina. I got a pass to skip on this one." In the last meeting you had been to, Bucky had to hold you down before you had the chance to blast her smug smirk off her face.

Bob made a hum in acknowledgment. "Can I ask you something?" He nodded, which you caught out of the corner of your eye. "How do you feel about....her?" Bob paused for a moment.

When Yelena had told you Valentina was at majority blame for The Void Incident, you had no doubt in believing it. You didn't know how the others were so okay with it, but Ms. de Fontaine being your boss still unsettled you. You didn't like the idea that she was still overseeing all of your actions and controlling how you were supposed to be acting towards the public. Especially after the shit she's pulled. Once Yelena explained the situation, about the blackmail shock collar the team had on her if she ever took anything too far, you felt a little more at ease about it. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake off the paranoia about being in this situation with her.

"Fine," Bob responded. You placed the plate down in the sink and turned to face him finally. "That's all you're gonna give me? Fine?" He gave a deep, annoyed sigh. "Well what do you want me to say? That I don't like her? That I don't trust her? That she's the reason I'm like this now and when it didn't go the way she planned, she killed me? Hmm?" You froze a little bit. You hadn't seen this side of him before. The team said it came out a little bit when he would go "Sentry-Mode" (a name made on Alexei's part). You sighed and went back to washing your dish. Bob rubbed his face again. "Sorry, I just thought it was pointless to state the obvious." You smirked a little bit. "Well that's one thing right. Just trying to fill the air I guess." "I know....sorry, that was mean." There's the Bob you know. Always apologizing. "You're good."

The air was stuffy with a tension for the next few minutes while you cleaned the kitchen. Up until a wet glass plate slipped out of your hands and crashed onto the floor, shattering into a billion little pieces. Bob flinched at the sound, on the other side of the island wiping down the counter. You froze and chuckled to yourself a bit. "Woah, you okay?" he asked, concerned. "Yeah, yeah, just a bit of a ditz today," you said, wiping your hand across your face. "You're good, just stay where you are for a sec, I don't want you to get any in your feet," Bob warned, going into first responder mode as he assessed the situation. "I wanna try this out for a second," he insisted.

You watched closely and stilly, as Bob took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and put his hands out. Suddenly, the glass shards around your feet jittered and lifted into the air slowly, as Bob opened his eyes and guided them to the trash can. Once he was done, he released his breath and dropped his hands. "Well look at mister big shot powers over here!" you cheered. "Bucky let you start practicing again recently?" "Yeah, a little bit here and there just so I don't go overboard again," he blushed a light pink. "Keep it up," you smiled at him.

Before you took another step, you looked down at the ground and noticed a particularly large piece of glass. "Oops, looks like you missed one hot-rod." "Shit, sorry, let me try one more time," he said closing his eyes again. "No no, don't worry, it's fine, I'll just pick this one up," you insisted, reaching down to pick it up. "No, wait, you'll cut yourself!" Bob shouted, almost running over to reach you. "Bob, it's fine I pro-."

As Bob's hand grabbed onto your wrist, you felt a spike of shivers roll down your arm. The first time he had made contact with you, and his hands were so soft....

You couldn't focus on it for long though, looking up and seeing a face of pure horror on Bob's face. You looked at him confused. You were quick to join him though as streams of black slithered across the floor and over your eyes. The last thing you remember was Bob's hand ripping off your wrist, desperately called out your name as the shadows took his place.

~~~~~

Your eyes peeled open, as you tried to assess your surroundings after the chaos. It was eerily quiet, a leaky faucet dripping as the only sound. The room was dark, damp, and cold. Concrete floors and walls, a chamber pot in the corner, and a cot with a wrinkled, thin blanket shoved against the wall. After your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you saw her. The lone decoration of the room. A poster of 1961's Breakfast at Tiffany's, Audrey Hepburn's face faded and discolored with time. The more you stared, the more you recognized this room. You knew where you were. And worst of all, you knew exactly what day this was.

With almost perfect timing, the metal door slide open with angry force. Three armored men burst into the room, as you heard something shuffle itself across the floor. You didn't even notice her at first.

A girl, shoved up into the corner of the wall, head hanging over the chamber pot as she wiped the bile off her mouth. Your memory was fuzzy, but she couldn't have been older than 17 at the time. With short, flat, oily, botched up hair. Wires were bursting out of her neck and down her back, connecting her to a running machine in the wall for vitals.

You. An older one.

The most notable feature was her frame. You would expect someone in this situation to look malnourished, seconds away from death. On the contrary, uncanny muscles were bulging out of her arms and upper back, like they were clawing to be let out. A product of the treatment, like a sumo wrestler on steroids.

The men rushed over to that version of you, ripping the wires out of her neck and latching on a power damper collar in their place. That collar itself was an omen. Can't torture the girl who can absorb the pain and shoot it back out. You'd just be throwing fuel onto the fire.

They forced younger you up to your feet as their superior walked into your room. You could feel your heart stop in your chest as you searched in desperation for a way out. You called out for Bob, Yelena, anyone at all. Almost like your mind was in tune with your decisions, the metal door slammed shut just before you could run out. You leaned your head on the door, not bearing to look, barely standing to listen.

Your old superior examined younger you and the rest of the room, the poster in particular. He smiled sadistically at it. "A real stunner she was, eh?" You scoffed at his words while younger you darted her eyes away. In one swift movement, he ripped the poster down to reveal a makeshift hole halfway into the wall. Your escape route. Taking a deep breath, you finally turned around to face the incoming carnage.

"You think you're smart huh?" the man asked her. Younger you tilted her head up, looking him straight in the eyes, too worn down to care what would happen to her. He smirked. Her silence was enough of an answer. He snapped at his employees, one of them slamming the butt of his gun into her temple in response. You couldn't help but flinch.

The superior slide open the metal door again, as his pawns dragged her unconscious body out the door, while you closely followed. The harsh hospital lights left a sting to your eyes as you traveled through your mind's endless hallways. Finally, you reached the chamber. The door slide open to reveal a dentist chair and an array of instruments littered throughout the room.

The men placed her down into the chair, one of them injecting a serum into her arm to wake her up. Younger you shot awake, pulled down by different leather restraints. Bile filled your mouth as you were reduced to being so helpless to just watch. A doctor followed into the room soon after the six of you, his face burned into your mind.

He took two long prongs, pinching them onto the skin of her elbow, and turned on a machine to send out electrical shocks. After a signal from the commander, he sent out the first wave. You couldn't help but turn your head away, holding back your own tears as phantom pains of remembrance ripped through your skin.

The worst part of all of this was how younger you barely struggled at all, only letting out blood curdling screams of pain. She had accepted her fate hours ago, knowing this was inevitable. Why fight it. It would only make it worse. It made you sick to your stomach. How much she had given up at this point.

A pause in the shocks. You turned your head back to see the commander walking up to the girl, sticking his face down to her's. "You knew this was going to happen?" The girl nodded her head slowly, with the energy she had left. He scoffed. "Then you're dumber than I thought." He stepped back again and signaled for the second wave.

Not baring to take it again, you went against your own judgement and rushed between the men, ripping the prongs off of the girl's body. You met her eyes for a split second.

Behind the numbness, you could see her fear. Roaring underneath the surface.

Before you could sense the rest, you felt a slam into your own temple, knocking you down to the floor. You looked up to see all the men looking at you now, the first time they had done so. The commander pushed past them, staring you down. He crouched down to your level, pushing a stray hair back behind your ear as you shuddered. "Still the same dumb girl I see," he smirked.

In a split second, he grabbed your arm, attaching one of the prongs to it, as the still working machine sent hundreds of volts into your arm in a split second, slicing through your nerves.

~~~~

Before you had time to react to the pain, your body in the real world roared back to life, as you screamed and coughed to catch your breath. You found yourself sitting down in the middle of the kitchen as your hands scrambled all over the ground as you hyperventilated, trying to ground yourself. "Woah, woah, woah, easy, I got you, you're safe now!" You looked up and finally noticed Yelena sitting on the ground in front of you. She had both hands placed on your shoulders, looking deep into your eyes to help you center yourself. You frantically looked around the room, finding the other team members close by, staring at you. Eventually, you found Bob, walking out of the room with Bucky close on his tail. You wanted to talk to him, knowing he was probably upset too, but you had bigger things on your mind.

"I.....I..." You couldn't get the words out. Before you could try again, Yelena softly pulled you into a hug, that you returned very quickly. "You're good now, okay?" she asked. You nodded gently into her shoulder. With more deep breaths and a few tears, you eventually were brought back down. You pulled out of the hug, and began to stand on your feet.

"Yelena, I told you I needed the team up to the helicopter deck in five minutes, do you guys take pleasure in disobeying me or wha-." Valentina bursted out of the elevator, rambling on about what they were probably discussing in the meeting. She only paused after noticing the obvious tension in the room. She looked at you, hunched over and mascara running down your face. "Well what happened to you this time?"

~~~~~~~

The ambient blue glow of the tv washed over your face, as your eyes glazed over the screen. In the few hours since the incident, the team decided it was best for you to sit out on this mission. So you had cooped yourself up in your room, trying anything to distract your mind from going back to that place. Every now and again, you'd hear light pacing footsteps in the hallway outside your door.

You hadn't spoken to Bob since you went under. He hadn't made any attempts to apologize yet. Yelena said it would probably take some time and she would talk to him as soon as she got back. You didn't want to wait until then to make things right, but knowing how fragile both of you were at the moment, you didn't want to accidentally make anything worse.

When the footsteps finally stopped, you sat up a little bit in your bed. Three soft knocks followed. You paused. "Come in." It wasn't him.

Ava gave you a soft "Hi" before stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "How was the mission?" you asked her. She shrugged her shoulders. "More of the same really, you didn't miss much." She gave a little hop onto your bed, laying down on her stomach next to you. "How you feeling?" You gave a little sigh to her. "A little better. I just think I need time." She nodded at your response, and gently held your hand. "You need me, you know where to find me, okay?" You smiled and nodded at her kind gesture. Ava put up a front with the rest of the time, teasing many of the others and acting nonchalant. But something else came out in her around you. That little girl, normally shoved under years of pain and killing.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked her. "Of course." You took a deep breath in and looked her in the eye. "Back when....he took over New York, what did you see?" Ava took a minute to think to herself. "Well, I went through three different rooms to find Bob and Yelena at the center." You adjusted yourself to a more comfortable, open position, trying to create a more welcoming energy in the room as Ava got vulnerable with you. "First room was with my parents and how I got....this way." She took off one of her gloves from her suit, showing her hand phasing between multiple quantum planes at once. A painful experience, she described it as. "Second room was one of my first missions with S.H.I.E.L.D., I had to take out an unarmed doctor."

She twiddled with her fingers, looking down as she picked at the nails. "Last one was a fight I had with an old friend.....he was trying to protect me from....myself I guess....said a lot of things I regret." You frowned down at her, placing a hand on her back to rub it in condolences. "That Bill guy you were talking about earlier, right?" She nodded. "But anyways, I've learned not to dwell on it anymore. My life is different now." She looked up at you. "All of ours are now." You nodded in acknowledgment.

"We're never gonna let those bastards get you again. Can you trust me on that?" She held your face between her hands. You nodded. She looked at you deeper. "I can. All of you," you verbalized. She sat up and pulled you in tightly for a hug. Ava was your best friend. You could trust her more than anyone else here on that.

As she pulled away, she cleared her throat. "Can I ask you a question now?" You nodded. "Do you blame Bob for what happened?"

You took a second.

"No." Ava raised an eyebrow at you. "I really don't." "Okay good, just making sure." You smiled at her. "Is Yelena talking to him?" "She's gonna try to at least," Ava sighed. "He's gonna be like this for a while. Scampery, avoidant. We've learned it's best to let him work through it." You nodded. "But he's gonna be okay, right?" Ava looked up at you, slight confusion in her eyebrows. "Yeah....." You nodded. "Okay....good."

Ava sat in silence for a little bit. "You care more about him being okay than you being okay?" You looked at her, clogs turning in your mind. "When you put it like that, I guess." She looked even more confused now. "Why?"

.....

"I don't know."

~~~~~~~

The next few days were spent with you trying to answer that question for yourself. You and Bob's relationship before this was never a super close one. You always naturally kept a distance from each other. It didn't make much of a difference if things went back to normal from this or not. So why did it matter? Why did it matter if he started talking to you again? Because man did you want him to again. And badly too.

It was like he was playing a prank on you at this point. Every time you would enter a room he was in too, he would find some excuse to leave, leaving you with a sour taste in your mouth. You knew the other team members noticed it too, because you would see one of them usually follow out of the room with him to confront him. You didn't want him to take the blame for this. You knew he was just taking this healing stage at his own pace. But man did you just wish his pace would go a little faster.

At least he wouldn't go on missions with you guys, then you'd really be screwed.

You tended to forget a very important fact because of that.

"Val needs you all downstairs in an hour, there's that press conference about the rebranding today." You could hear Mel talking to the group from your cracked bedroom door. You had been snooping in there, since Bob was in the control room outside with everyone else. "Bob, she wants you there too this time, says the more members there in support, the better."

Shit.

You could hear his whiny groan from your room. "Do I have to?" "Unless you wanna tell Val yourself." That must've been a huge wake up call for him, cause you could hear him rush your way to his room to get ready. He made split second eye contact with you before closing the door. Your heart almost broke with the swiftness his eyes darted away.

You closed your door and started getting ready yourself before you had to take orders from anyone. Most press meetings required a more casual, business attire. Ones like this however, required full glam, full hair, and full costume. You were particularly fast at the getting ready process, especially since you didn't have a thousand gun holsters you had to fasted on, unlike your other team members.

Your costume was also fairly simple. With the nature of your powers, your previous suits had a knack for getting the sleeves torn off, so you decided to replace that design with a simple, black, mock neck bodysuit. Your pants were standard black cargo pants, multiple pockets in case you needed any physical weapons on you in an emergency. They were tied off with a pair of heavy duty combat boots.

For press conferences, Valentina usually requested you to go the most glam with hair and makeup out of the group, since the other two girls were slightly opposed to it. So once that was finally done, you walked out of your room into the control deck, ready to go.

You usually sat there for a good amount of time by yourself, until one of the guys would join you. But this time, Yelena was the first one out after you, albeit half dressed, in the middle of doing her eyeliner, and a makeup bag in her hand.

She looked at you, slightly distressed. "What's up?" you asked. She clenched her teeth. "You're gonna say no, I know it." "Can you just ask me?" She took in a deep sigh. "Can you help Bob with his hair and makeup?" It took every bone in your body not to burst out laughing at her request.

For Valentina and the press, everyone in the tower had to be dressed up. Including the guys. Not too much, but some to cover up most of their "tough guy" looks. Almost like a stage makeup of sorts. The stylists you guys had were always wrangled up with Alexei and Walker, always opposed to the idea and needing extra support, so Yelena would take care of Bob's and Bucky would handle his own.

"I'm already running behind and Val wants Barnes and I down early to practice responses." You looked at her, baffled. "And Ava can't do it?" Yelena raised her eyebrows at you. "It's a miracle Ava can do her own." True, unfortunately. "Yelena, you're kidding me right?" She walked closer to the couch you were sitting at. "He's a grown man, can't he do it himself?" "Yes, but unfortunately he's also a very slow learner too." You shook your head to yourself. "Have you even been in the tower for the past week, he won't even look at me right now," you whispered. She sighed to herself. "I know I know, and this would be a one time thing I promise, I just really need the help right now."

You leaned back into the couch and washed your hands over your face. "And not to be an instigator, but I think it would help you two also." You snorted at her sentence, taking your hands off your eyes to see how serious her face was. You took a deep breath and thought it over for a second or two. "Fine," you gave her, deadpanned. "But you owe me so much right now." Yelena let out a sigh of relief. "I really do, thank you." She dropped the makeup bag, presumably filled with the tools you'd need, in your lap, and bolted towards her room.

~~~~~

The door to the room loomed over your head, seemingly getting taller with every passing second you stood in front of it. Biting the bullet, you finally gave four slight knocks on his door, the same knock Yelena used for all of you. Yes, it was a bit of a trick, but you knew he wouldn't have let you in otherwise. You heard a soft, kind "Come in" from the other side of the door that made your heart warm up ever so slightly. You took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door. Your heart froze up again when you saw the way his smile dropped when you walked in. He was dressed in his usual attire for conferences, a pressed, slightly too big for him, tuxedo with dress shoes. But of course, his hair was in its natural, shaggy mess and you could spot any upcoming pimples from a mile away. Your job for the afternoon.

"What ar-" "Before you kick me out can I explain!" you jumped in before he could interject. He waited a second before nodding. "Yelena had to go downstairs early and doesn't have the time to get you ready, and before you ask, yes everyone else is too busy, and yes, I am your last resort."

His eyes darted away from you and to the ground, the most of an invitation over as you were gonna get. You took a seat on his partially made bed, observing the rest of his room. It took you a second to remember that you've never been in here before. It was a lot cleaner than you expected it to be. Then again, he spent almost all of his time in the tower, so he had a lot more time to clean than the rest of you did.

There were scattered band posters on the dark blue walls of the room, and a few collected rocks lying on his T.V. stand. You opened up the bag and took out his hair gel first. Val liked his long, overgrown hair to be slicked back for press events. You squirted some of the gel on your hands and lathered it deep into them.

When you went for his hair though, he moved his head slightly back away from you. You immediately put your hands down in response. "Okay, let's get this straight now," you snapped. "I get you're mad at me for whatever reason, but I'm not gonna take this from you right now, especially when I'm trying to help you. So either grow the fuck up, or you can do it yourself, okay?" His eyes widened a little bit. You were never the mean type towards anyone on the team, but when your limits were tested like this, you had no choice but to respond.

Putting back any feelings he had, he straightened up and leaned closer into you. "Thank you," you responded. "I'll be quick, I promise. Out of your bubble in no time." Your hands tangled into his hair, pushing the light brown strands back in straight lines. Before it would get tangled in by the gel, you could feel how soft his hair was. Even if it was overgrown, you could tell he took pride in it.

As you pushed his hair back into a makeshift mullet, making sure the gel wasn't ruining his curls at the bottom, you noticed something. Just out of your peripherals, you could see his eyes, darting every which way. They couldn't stay still for more than a second. Sometimes they would be at your shoulders, at your legs, your hair. Most of the time though, they were trying to find where you weren't. But each time, they would land magnetically back to you.

You couldn't help but let out a little laugh to yourself, a little breath out of your nose. "What?" Bob reflexively asked. You smiled and shook your head. "I really don't get you, man." His brows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" Finally finished with his hair, you untangled your hands and brought them back to you, his eyes following them. "Bob, you're scared shitless of me."

A glow of pink wiped over his cheeks. "N-no I'm not." You laughed right in his face, as you went into the makeup bag and pulled out primer, foundation, and concealer. You squeezed lines of primer from the bottle onto his face. Before you could use your hands to rub it in though, he quickly grabbed your wrist again. Same way as before. You froze for a second before you realized, nothing was happening. You weren't going back in. You realized why when you looked at Bob's face, focused now more than you had ever seen before.

Your face and demeanor softened. "Bob." His face turned to yours, fear glazing over his eyes, trying desperately to keep the void from taking you again. You took his calloused fingers in your hands, peeling them away from your wrist and holding it with your own. You looked into his deep blue eyes, almost lost in them.

"I'm not scared of you."

His breath shook at your words, and you could've sworn you saw his eyes slightly water up. "I never have been. And I don't plan on changing that." The tension in his body melted away at those magic words. His lips pursed inwards as he looked down at your hands intertwined. "Can you trust me on that?" He gave a slight nod to you. You took his chin to your hand and pulled it up to look at you. His eyes were fully watery now. "Can you?" It took him a second.

".....I can."

You smiled at him.

"Thank you," he whispered. You closed your eyes and nodded to him. "You're welcome." The two of you sat for a moment like this, hands tangled in each other and observing each other's faces. You noticed how large his hands were. You never really considered your hands as small either, so the fact they were still much bigger than yours surprised you. They were restless as well, constantly moving between your own fingers, like they were getting a feel for how yours were. This was the most you had ever seen him before, in more ways than one.

Eventually, you let his hand go and cleared your throat. "Let's get you ready now, I'd rather avoid an earful from Val after the conference." Bob nodded and sat up straight again, as you rubbed the primer into his face with your thumbs. His slightly stubbled chin tickled the pads of your fingers in an almost hypnotic notion. Before you even knew it, your hands were staying caressing his face. Bob didn't seem to mind it, his eyes slowly closing, and even leaning his face into your touch further.

The two of you immediately snapped out of it at the sound of Bob's door slamming open. Mel stood at the door, panting, hand leaning against the frame for support. "What the hell is taking so long?" she asked frantically. "Uhhhhhh." The lack of an answer you two could come up with only angered her more. She rolled her eyes and pointed to you. "Get downstairs, I'll finish up with him." You looked back to Bob, smiled, gave his cheek a quick pat as you stood up and walked out the door.

Before Mel closed the door behind you, you caught Bob's eyes, hypnotically following you. As if he was searching for you. For more.

~~~~~~

Something shifted between the two of you after that day. No more avoidance. You found Bob coming to you for anything now. Whether he was having one of his bad days, needed help cleaning something up, or even if he just wanted to watch a movie with someone. Equally, you found yourself going to him for almost anything. Almost.

The main difference between the two of you was Bob had told you everything about him. You knew him like a book. Every page studied and memorized. But when he would ask you something about your past, you always managed to slither out of the question. You didn't mean to be so secretive around him. It was more of a reflex at this point. You'd done it with everyone. He was included in that group.

You could tell it hurt him though. Knowing there was some part of you that either didn't trust him enough to know, or maybe just didn't want him to know at all. Hopefully with time you'd be able to open up, not just to him, to everyone. But that's all the two of you could do for now. Hope.

A sign of that coming close had finally appeared, a new impulse crossing your mind. Dating.

For obvious reasons, relationships had never been a top priority for you. But as things were slowing down in your life, you began to feel left out of the "dating in NYC" craze. Without much experience under your belt, you decided to go through the dating app route. That proved to be more challenging than you thought. "I don't think men on here have ever had a conversation with a woman before," you'd complain to Bob or Ava constantly, usually followed by a large eye roll from them.

Lightning seemed to have struck though. On your way home from grocery shopping, you managed to bump into a guy at your bus stop. It was something straight out of a movie, the way the wind knocked of your cap and he had managed to catch it for you. The two of you spent the entire bus ride talking, and he eventually asked you for your number once you reached your stop. Tonight was date night. He had planned a special dinner in the city, and the two of you would go dancing after.

"Are you sure this guy's not like some stalker or something? You are a superhero after all, there's weird fans all over the city," Ava protested. Her and Bob were sitting in your room as you got ready. She sat on your light yellow beanbag on the floor, tossing a crumpled up paper with the address to the restaurant on it into the air. Bob was laying down on your bed, extra quiet today for some reason, staring up at the ceiling.

"He's not, I promise, Bob saw him too, he can vouch for me," you waved her off, looking in your mirror trying to do your makeup. You could see Ava look to Bob behind you through the mirror. She raised her eyebrow at him, which he just shrugged off. "I'd just prefer you not get kidnapped tonight, so try to avoid that if you can," she turned back to you. "Ava, if he's a normal citizen, I'll have zero problems defending myself, if anything happens," you defended. You sprayed some setting spray onto your face, and got up to change into your outfit.

Your bedroom had an attached bathroom, so you went in there to change. Once you closed the door, you took off your current sweats and baggy turtleneck sweater and slipped on your outfit. Your date asked you to go a little more formal than normal first date, so you specially picked out your outfit from your closet: a black boat-neckline midi dress, with a little thigh slit for less formal environments. It was gifted to you a few years back, but you hadn't worn it since. There was one glaring issue you noticed.

Throughout your time in the lab, you had obviously developed some scars. You didn't mind most of them, being electrocution scars, which made for some pretty cool war stories. Photoshoot photographers were particular fans of those. Some scars, however, weren't exactly your favorites. The specific one being a thick, prominent scar, starting at your right collarbone and trailing up to the back of your neck. It was fairly recent, compared to the rest of your scars, so the fading process was far from beginning. It was part of the reason you stuck to turtleneck fashion so much. But with this dress here, it was finally out in the open, something you weren't so sure you were comfortable with.

After convincing yourself though, you were willing to bite the bullet if it meant looking all dolled up for once. After a final examination in the bathroom mirror, you took a step out the door to show off to your friends. Both of them seemed to jump back to the positions they were in before you walked into the bathroom, almost like they were gossiping girls before. But once they noticed you, the air in the room stopped.

Ava was the first one to give out a little supportive holler when you stepped out, getting a little giggle from you. "What are you waiting for, give us a twirl!" she shouted. Obliging, you gave a little curtsey and spin. Turning to Bob, you could see a little smile curling up from this mouth. "So, what do you think?" you asked him, hoping for some words out of him today. "You look beautiful. Really really beautiful." There was a slight tint of melancholy in his words. You believed what he said, that was sincere. But his smile was actively lying to you.

His eyes spoke the truth though. You watched him as his eyes traced the way your dress hugged your body, highlighting all the beautiful parts of you, leaving little to the imagination. You saw his eyes stop at your collarbone, and his smile faded away. Just before you could see his mouth open to ask about it, you jumped right in. "Well, I better get going, I don't wanna miss my train," you frantically said, grabbing your kitten heels and strapping them on.

Ava and Bob followed you out of your room and towards the elevator out of the tower. Ava gave you a tight hug, whispering a little "Text me if you think he's a killer," before letting go. Bob's body seemed to stutter a little bit before giving you a hug. He had been more in control of the void spreading through his touch, but he was still cautious over it. His hugs always felt like home. The way he would squeeze you just the right amount and how well your chin fit into the crook of his neck. His hand sat comfortably just above your hips, with always his pinky finger straying a bit lower and tracing your upper thigh. When he let go he stayed close to you for a second, his eyes just slightly lower than where yours were. "Be safe, okay?' he asked with full sincerity. You nodded and let go just before getting into the elevator. "I will."

~~~~~~~

You rested your back against the elevator, back at the tower and up to your room after the long night. You checked your phone for a time. 2:24 am. Hopefully everyone else would be asleep when you got back.

The date wasn't bad. Not at all. In fact, it was one of the better ones you could remember going on. Dinner was nice and you went down to this jazz bar for some dancing. He walked you back to the tower and the two of you even shared a quick kiss.

So why did you feel so....weird? The circumstances were perfect for a second date. You like the guy, you really did. But something about him kept you from getting truly comfortable with him that night. The little things. The way he insisted to the waiter on splitting the bill, the way you had to stop every taxi for the two of you, the way he'd cut off your sentences. The way he couldn't stop looking at the scar poisoning your neck. That one really got you.

Maybe it was just your anxiety highlighting it, but it seemed every time his eyes would trail away from yours, they would land right on that scar. Like he was trying to subconsciously let you know it was there. As if you didn't have to take the work to try and cover it up every day of your life. That irked you most of all. You felt awful about it, it wasn't his fault it was there. But no matter how hard you tried, whenever you thought about going on a second date with him, you couldn't erase the look in his eyes out of your mind.

As you examined it in the mirror in the elevator, the doors slid open to an empty living room and kitchen floor. You wiped the tiredness off of your face and turned on a dim overhead lamp, setting your purse on the kitchen island to grab a quick water bottle. Your ears perked up when you heard some stirring from the couch area. Following the noise arose a head of shaggy brown hair. Your face softened and smile lifted when you saw his head turn around to find you. "Hi," you whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Bob replied with a sleepy "Hey," eyes still lowered.

"Whatcha doing out here, shouldn't you be in bed?" you asked, walking over to the couch. "Couldn't sleep...came out here to city watch and try to get sleepy." Your head turned to the massive windows overlooking the night city, still so alive. Bob let out a small yawn and reached his arm over to where you were standing. You took his hand, allowing him to guide you over to sit next to him on the couch. His position was slouched and comfortable, still half asleep. He rested his head into your shoulder, sending a little nervous shiver into you. "How was it?" he asked, eyes closing. You sighed. "Good." He chuckled under his breath. "What's that for?" you asked, pointing your eyes down to him. "Someone who went on a good date wouldn't just say it was 'good'," he slyly slurred out. Maybe this is why you never see Bob right after he wakes up. This Bob was kind of an asshole.

"What, can I not go on a date that's just 'good'?" you asked, getting slightly mad with him. "Someone as special as you shouldn't have to lower herself to going on dates that are just 'good'." The words trailed off in volume on the way out, almost like he didn't even know they came out in the first place. But you managed to catch them. And they sent butterflies down into your stomach, a pink glow to your cheeks, and a stupid grin to your mouth.

You looked down at him, resting on your shoulder. His body leaned perfectly into yours, filling all the empty space with his own. His delicate hands rested in his lap while his eyelashes tickled the upper parts of his cheek. And his hair, his beautiful hair, curled perfectly at the ends, grazing against the back of your neck with the air of The Watchtower. You could fall asleep with him here for days, in perfect, complete serenity.

"So why was it just 'good'?" he finally asked after what seemed like minutes of silence. You thought to yourself. "Cause I'm not gonna go on a second date." He lifted his head off of your shoulder and looked at him, with a slight concern on his droopy face. "Did something happen?" "No no no, I promise," you quickly shut down the idea. "It's just....." He sat more at attention, rubbing his eyes to try and wake up more. You both turned to look at each other, the sides of your faces resting on the couch cushions. "He was fine, great even....I just...." You tried to find the words to describe what you were feeling. "C'mon honey, talk to me," Bob slipped out, in a deep, sleepy voice that sent waves through you.

"I can't see him being able to deal with me," you finally spoke. "What makes you think that?" You sighed. You sat up a little bit and pulled your hair back behind your neck and lifted up your chin. "You saw this earlier right?" Bob gave a soft hum and a nod in response. "I got this a while back, back when I was still in the labs you saw in my nightmare." His eyes focused in on the scar, trying to make it out with the little light in the room. "I wanted to ask earlier, but I didn't wanna upset you," he spoke. "I know you don't like talking about it." You smiled a little at his ability to know you so well.

"Well, on one of the missions I was sent on back there, I got injured real bad. Broke my clavicle and they could only fix it through surgery. But I wouldn't necessarily call their doctors 'top of the line', so the cleanup was messy." You brushed your hair back onto the scar to cover it up. "One of the many souvenirs they gave me," you attempted to joke. Bob smiled a little bit at it, but was still focused on your skin. "Anyways, I don't like looking at it much, it's one of my uglier scars, and when other people catch it, I can't help but worry about what they're thinking."

"What d'you think he was thinking about?" Bob asked, slouching his head back into the couch to secretly admire you. You slouched back too. "About how much of a piece of work I'm gonna be," you chuckled out, even if the thought made you wanna cry. You could see that same sadness in Bob's eyes as they trailed up to your eyes. You sighed and looked away from him to the window outside. "This is why I don't date," you joked, wiping your face.

"Hey." You looked back at him. "Can I do something I'm gonna regret once I'm more awake?" You raised an eyebrow at the suspicious statement. "Okay." He sat a little closer to you, bringing up a hand to your hair, looking to you for approval. You gave him a soft hum as he pulled the hair behind your neck again, and softly traced his thumb over the scar, leaving goosebumps in its trail.

As gently as he could, he brought his face closer and pressed his lips softly onto your clavicle. Your breath hitched, causing him to bring his face back again. His eyes bore into yours, ready to give an apology if you requested. But your hand encouraged his actions, tangling into the back of his hair and pushing his lips back in.

Bob's lips danced over your scar, as your breath got heavier and hands tugged on his roots in approval. His hands found their way to your hips, caressing you in all the right spots. You fought to keep in any sounds your mouth wanted to let out from his touch. But right as you could feel yourself getting to the good part, Bob placed his final kiss, releasing you as well. You rested your head back as Bob stood up from the couch, lending a hand out to you. "It's late, we can talk more tomorrow, but you need your rest for now." Bob almost seemed to snap out of whatever lustful spell was just over him. Or maybe you took what just happened the wrong way. You tried to process it in your head as you took his hand and stood up with him.

Hand in hand, he led you to your room. As he opened the door and let you inside, he leaned over you on the door frame with one more message: "If a man looks at you and his first thought is of is how much work you'll be, he's no man at all."

~~~~~~~~

His words stuck in your heart for the next few days as the two of you tried to pretend that nothing happened. Drowsy Bob was right, Awake Bob apologized to you profusely the next morning, claiming he had no idea what came over him that night. "....I didn't mind it," you confessed after his apology. Made him blush faster than you thought was humanly possible. After a long, embarrassingly awkward conversation, the two of you decided on an agreement.

Whenever you were feeling bad about yourself, physically specifically, you could go to his room and he'd help you....feel better. You weren't fuck buddies, that was for sure. You just happened to be friends who'd kiss each other's bodies multiple times a week. And it made you absolutely insane.

You couldn't even go to Ava about this, since you and Bob agreed it was best if this was a secretive thing. Truth is, this whole ordeal was making you obsessed with the guy. You couldn't get him out of your head. Him being your roommate only made things worse. You couldn't escape from him. You'd never wanted someone this much before, it was driving you mad.

All the problems in relationships you felt before seemed to disappear with him. Since that night, you found yourself opening up more and more to him. You knew each chapter of each other's lives. And that made you really fucking happy. Having someone you could trust with yourself utterly, wholly, and completely.

The late nights where he'd do nothing but kiss and hold you, like he knew the magic of his touch. But you were greedy. You needed more of him, but all the uncertainty just got in the way.

You knew this wasn't just a thing "friends" did. But not knowing the exact details of how he felt for you kept you from asking for more. What if this was something friends did in his mind? What if the only thing he felt for you was based in lust? You'd rather not have that potentially friendship ruining conversation, so you decided to take the "suffer in silence" route instead.

That wasn't your biggest worry at the moment though. No, that spot in your mind was currently being overshadowed by the bullet wound in your side. You weren't gonna die, your powers would take care of that step for you, but it still hurt like a bullet wound. You'd spent a couple hours on the medbay floor of The Watchtower getting patched up, now on your way up to join the rest of the team.

The minute the elevator doors opened, you were greeted by a giant hug from Alexei, shouting Russian expressions of joy. As endearing as it was, you had to have the rest of the team peel him off of you, as he was two seconds away from opening up your stitches. Once you caught your breath, you greeted the rest of the team, all glad for your recovery. Your smile dropped a little, after scanning the members in the room. "Where's Bob?" you asked. "His therapist wanted to extend his session a little bit today," Bucky answered. You nodded a little to yourself. "You know when he'll be back?" you asked, trying not to sound too needy. "Soon enough," Yelena giggled.

....

"Does he know about..." you gestured to your bandages, slightly pink from any leftover blood. In almost miracle timing, Bob stepped out of the elevator and into your conversation. "Hey, what's-," he started, before looking at you clutching your side. His eyes widened with fear. "Oh my god what happened?!" he shouted, rushing over to you. "It's fine, I'm fine, I just didn't dodge very well today and someone caught me off guard." In combat, you usually tried to avoid the gunslingers and sword masters for hand-to-hand instead. You got more energy from absorbing bullet wounds and cuts, but on a pain scale, you'd rather deal with working up multiple punches to the nose.

As Bob questioned your pain scale, it almost seemed as if the other teammates were slowly leaving the room one by one, until only you two were left in it. The two of you naturally made your way to the couch and talked about your days for what seemed like hours. You went over battle strategies, he debriefed about his appointment. Eventually, noticing the sun going down, you started to become aware of all the dirt and blood still sticking to your body. "Um, can I use your tub? I need to get the day off me before I start peeling my skin off," you joked, standing up off of the couch. "Sure, whatever you need," he insisted, getting up with you. The only teammates with bathtubs instead of showers in their rooms were Bob and Bucky, and in all honesty, you just wanted to be near Bob's presence right now.

The mixture of dried blood, sweat, and dirt stuck your suit straight onto your skin as you made a painful attempt to peel it off. You dropped the clothes to the floor, and examined the damage in your mirror, unraveling all your littered bandages. Your stitches seemed to be doing okay, but the rest of the little cuts and bruises on you made themselves apparent. Your powers were useful in the moment, but damn did the aftercare suck.

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you walked over to Bob's room, leaving a soft knock on the door. A freshly bathed Bob opened up the door, now in his own baggy pajamas, his curls still wet and dripping. "I just wanted a to take a quick soak before you got in, I got a new round of hot water running for you." You gave him a little smile and stepped inside; he closed the door behind you. "Thanks." You walked into the steaming bathroom, tub filled to the brim with hot water like he said. Bob's bathroom was a cozy, dimly lit room that smelled just like him; eucalyptus and peppermint oil, incense cones, and a touch of his cologne. It calmed you down almost immediately, and enough for you to ask your question.

"Can you...uh...help me while I'm in there?" you nervously asked. He raised his eyebrow a little bit at the question. "I-It just hurts to turn a little and I need to reach some spots on my back." He looked you over while he deliberated. "I don't wanna sound rude or anything but...you sure you're okay with me....seeing you?" he whispered that last little part. "I'm wearing a bathing suit under here, I don't mind you seeing that at least," you replied, anticipating his concern. "Oh....okay, yeah sure," he replied, scratching the back of his head.

You dropped your towel and placed it hanging over the sink. The black bikini you were wearing covered enough of you, but still allowed all your injuries to be visible. That first step into the tub was heavenly, the heat rolling down off your spine with a slight, but welcome tinge of pain. You closed your eyes and melted down into the water, Bob smiling at your relaxation. "God, I needed this," you breathed out. Bob walked up closer to you, sitting on the edge of the tub.

You sat there for a minute, body absorbing the heat and releasing the built up tension in your muscles from the day. Once you finally opened your eyes, you found Bob's eyes grazing over your body. "What is it?" you asked. A stupid grin found its way to his face, as he readjusted himself to begin helping you. "Nothing, don't worry."

Bob took a nearby loofa and his body wash, about to squeeze some onto it before you put your hand out. "This is gonna sound weird....can you use your hands?" You didn't bother giving an explanation, it wouldn't change the implications of that request. Bob gave a little nod. "Wait just, give me a sec." He quickly got up out of the room, closing the door behind him. You sat there within your own thoughts. Fuck, was that too much? you thought to yourself, praying you didn't scare him off.

After a few anxious minutes, Bob opened up the door, leaving you with a sight that made your heart stop.

He had traded in his pajamas for a pair of swim shorts. You had to fight to keep your jaw from going slack at the sight of him without a shirt on. He wasn't kidding, that serum really did do a lot of work.

First of all, you had seen his arm muscles before, frequently on display whenever he would wear a short sleeve shirt. But paired with his perfectly plumped chest, carved abs, and toned thighs, it was enough to kill a horse. Worst of all however, was his swim boxers, with a very flawed detail: they were about two sizes too small, and you couldn't tell if Bob was aware or not, but you could see it. It was bigger than you thought. You would need a tranquilizer to hide the blush on your face right now.

"I figured it'd be easier to just get in and help, and this is my only pair of trunks.....is it too much?" So he didn't know, huh. You swallowed back any urges you had and sat up a little bit more in the tub. "No, you're fine," you said, pushing your body back to make room for him in the small tub. He shuffled up and gently placed his legs in one by one, sinking in in front of you.

Bob took the body wash again, pouring some and lathering it between his hands. He motioned you to turn around so he could get your back area. Your back showed him about five scattered cuts and scratches and two large bruises by your lats. You could hear his breath shake a bit as he got closer to you. Naturally, you straightened out your back for him to work with a better canvas.

A sigh instinctively came out of your mouth when his hands came down on you, lathering the soap over your skin. His hands worked into you like putty, spreading the bubbles out evenly onto you. The callouses scratched onto your skin, and you felt a deep heat brewing into your chest. It only grew stronger when his fingers started digging into your muscles. Pain oozed out and away as his thumbs worked out the knots in your upper back. You had to bring a hand up to your mouth to keep a pleasurably moan from slipping out.

The deeper his fingers got into you, the more your body began to twitch, itching for more. The water sloshed around a little when you began to move back into him. And thats when you felt it. Your breath hitched when you caught it. He was achingly big, and you could tell by the throbbing you felt on your lower back. He must've noticed you felt it, since his fingers stopped moving. The two of you sat there for a minute in a hot tension.

Eventually, he picked up a cup sitting outside of the tub, filled it with the bathwater, and poured the soap off of your back. Putting it down, he inched slightly closer to you, his hands finding their way again back to your hips like so many times before. "Tell me where it hurts," he whispered into your ear. You tried to shake out your shivers and be honest with him, your mind needing him in one place but your body wanting him everywhere.

You took the safe route. You needed to keep control of yourself. As long as you could at least.

You pointed to a spot along your spine where one of the bruises lay. "Bend forward a little bit," he spoke, in that low, sultry voice again, almost commanding you. You listened. You moved. But unfortunately, you couldn't keep the moan inside you anymore when his lips grazed and kissed over the bruise. You could keep it quiet enough for him to, hopefully, not hear it however.

Your body adjusted and moved to fit him as his lips trailed up your spine, and eventually to the nape of your neck. He sucked on the tender skin, desperation in its trail. Before he could get too carried away though, he pulled himself off of you. His hot breath stuck to your back, as he took a moment to splash some of the steaming water onto his face. After clearing his throat, he asked you to turn back around and face him, which you did of course.

Finding his face, you could finally see the display of his emotions. The main one: a drunken look in his eyes to desperately hide a growing lust. You could tell. It was the same look in yours. Trying to continue with the bath, Bob took some more body was and drizzled it out onto your arms and upper chest. Sure, you could reach those parts of yourself fine, but what's wrong with letting a man take care of you every once in a while. And if this was how he was gonna do it, you'd be glad to give in.

He massaged the soap into your skin again, relaxing your tense arm muscles, a little gentler around your chest and collarbone area. He pressed a deep kiss into your clavicle scar, a tick for him at this point. His eyes stayed down on you, examining the way your skin fit onto your body. You brought your hand to meet his, currently pressing gentle circles onto your tricep. His eyes found a nice spot, staring at your lips, with you back at his. Trembles started to infect his hands and you could even see a slight quiver stain his lip.

"Does it hurt...anywhere here?" he gasped out. Taking the opportunity, you slowly brought your finger up to the tiniest cut you had on your chin. Smiling, he went in, almost taking your entire chin into his mouth. Your hands wrapped around his neck as his mouth moved to press sloppy kisses into your jawline. But that's all where he stayed. And you needed more than that.

Enough with the teasing, you let go of his neck and took his face in your hands, pulling his mouth away from you. He looked at you, beautiful, deep blue puppy eyes mixed with questioning and fear. "Do you remember what I told you Bob? When I was helping you get ready for the conference?" The fear left his eyes, as he realized what you were playing with here. "Remind me...." You smirked at his words. "When are you ever gonna stop being afraid of me?" you asked, eyes glued to his lips. He dropped his head and let out a defeated laugh. "It's never been you that I'm scared of....it's always been myself," he said, lifting his head back up and closer to yours. "And why's that?" The corner of his mouth lifted up as his hand went to cup your jaw, caressing it with his thumb. "Because I have to keep myself from tearing off my clothes and taking you in the living room each time you walk through that elevator."

Before you could respond to what he said, your body started moving on its own, slamming your lips into his, sloshing water everywhere. The kiss you shared was needy, hungry, and slow. Different from the ones he left littered over your body in the past. What surprised you the most about it was what fueled it. This was not a lustful kiss, which is what you had expected from him. This kiss was filled with a pure, tender, and firing love the two of you have silently shared for each other for the past few months.

His hands wrapped around your waist, hugging you closer into him and onto his laugh, where his raging erection made itself more apparent by the second. "You need me that bad, huh?" you teased, breaking away from the makeout and grinding your clothed cunt against it. Bob nodded profusely, leaning back into you to chase your lips, which you pulled back from. You bit your lip and smiled, wooed by his desperation for you. "Someone's excited, huh?" you joked. "Well, I'd rather not get waterlogged here, so how about we dry off, get these swimsuits off, and...." you leaned close to his ear. "...you can take me on your bed any way you want, how's that sound loverboy?" you bit down onto his earlobe

Bob let out a whispered moan and dropped his head into your shoulder, pressing soft kissed into it. "Yes, please," he replied. Before getting up though, he pulled you into a close hug, which you returned gladly. Bob may have a secret, shameful side you didn't know about, but at the end of the day, you couldn't take the lover out of him.

The two of you stepped out of the bathtub, drained the water, and took your towels to dry yourselves off. Once you were dried, you opened the bathroom door, releasing the steamy air into the rest of Bob room. The cold tinged both your skin, as you walked hand in hand to his bed. You were first to undress, slipping off your bikini bottoms and untying your top off. Bob could've sworn his life flashed before his eyes at that moment, as he admired your beautiful body. He quickly kicked off his trunks, allowing his cock to finally spring out to life. He playfully ran up and tackled you onto his bed, kissing into you neck as you let out playful giggles.

His mouth eventually found its way up to yours, as the two of you slipped each other's tongues into your mouths. His hands gently swept you underneath him on the bed, still careful with your injury. "I-fuck, I wanna taste you," he gasped out while you sucked marks onto his neck. "Do it," you whispered into his neck, giving it a little nibble.

He giggled to himself, as his mouth traced kissed down your neck, sternum, and stomach, all the way down to your hips. You lifted your head to look down at him. He smiled up at you as his hands grabbed into your thighs, bending your legs up. His thumb grazed along your leaking folds, already sending shivers into you. "You're so....beautiful," you could hear him whisper just before leaving his first of many soft kisses on your slit. His tongue slowly worked itself over your clit, as one of your hands found its way down into the roots of his hair.

For leverage, you pulled slight tugs onto his hair, which drove Bob bananas. Each pull only drove him further into your pussy, absorbing his own whines and moans. His tongue worked over each of your lips, memorizing the way it made his taste buds react. You tasted so good, he could sit here eating you for hours. Looking down at the sight underneath you only pushed you closer to the edge. His messy, slightly damp curls intertwined with your fingers, as he sloppily ate your pussy, juice dripping down the sides of his mouth. Game changer moment was when he brought in his digits, curling his pointer and middle finger into your swollen cunt.

An exaggerated moan of his name left your mouth, as your hips buckled into his hand, begging for more. "C'mon, you're doing so good for me baby, keep it up," he spoke into your inner thigh, leaving a little love bite in there that left you biting your tongue. As his fingers worked inside you, you wriggled over the sheets, trying to chase an oncoming high. "You're so perfect sweetheart, so perfect for me," he continuously praised.

The twitch in your lower stomach grew more powerful with the seconds, as fingers continued to hit your walls perfect, his teeth grazed your clit, and hot breath washed over you. "Bob, I-I," you started to moan out. "Do it for me baby, come for me here."

As the high washed over your body, a final moan rushed out, paired with another hip buckle and legs a twitching mess as Bob kissed into your pussy. Your juice coated all over his fingers, which added more growth to his member, if that was even possible right now. His fingers slid perfectly out of your aching pussy and into his own mouth, as he got a better taste for you. A smile curled its way onto his mouth as he sat back on his knees, watching you come down from your high.

Bob couldn't help but crawl back up to you. He had to watch this moment with his own eyes. Your heavy breaths hit his face as he leaned on his elbows to perfectly lay over him. Your cheeks glowed a heavy pink as you came down from your orgasm. "Was that good?" he asks. You couldn't help but let out at laugh at the question. Good? Did he see what happened just now? "You're adorable," you validated, love-drunk eyes gazing into his own.

He let a breath out of his nose, and dropped his whole body weight down onto you. You cried out in a fake pain and your body absorbed his heat into you. "Get off, you're killing me!" you joked. He shook his head vigorously. "No, you gotta do it yourself," he played back. You giggled and used whatever strength you had left over to try and push him off. To no avail of course. "Alright, you gotta help just a little, you're pure muscle sweetie." Bob sighed and lifted his body off of you just enough for you to roll him to the other side of the bed.

Before he could move again, you jumped on top of him, placing your own dead weight on top of him now. "You see, I'd play along now, but I'm scared I'd toss you off the bed," he said. True, best not to play games like this with someone who has super strength. "Ugh, no fair," you complained, dropping your head into his neck. You heard his awkwardly adorable laugh, making your heart soar, as he scratched the back of your head.

"C'mere, let me see you," he asked gently. You lifted your head up, a fake frown plastered on your face. The act didn't last long though when you saw his face.

The way he looked at you right now was the way girls had dreamed about since they were kids. His eyes softened with pure adoration for you, with his mouth curled into the dumbest grin. He spoke your name in a question. "Yeah?" He brought his hand up to cup your jaw, which you nuzzled your cheek into as his thumb traced over your lips. "I....I think..." he trailed off. "What is it?" His smile turned slightly more serious. "I think I love you." He paused. "I know I do."

If it weren't for his body heat grounding you into the moment, you would've sworn you were dreaming right now. Everything you've ever wanted was right here. It was all in him. It was him.

"I know I love you too."

The giddy look on his face could set you free, as both his hands grabbed your cheeks to pull you into his kiss stained lips. The two of you continued to kiss and roll all over the bed, as you prepared to continue the rest of your love filled night.

~~~~~~

Sun rays streamed through the breaks in the blinds of Bob's room. Your eyes attempted to adjust to the brightness as you awoke. Wrapped up in his sheets, blooming with his scent, you began to remember the dreamlike events of the night before. You turned to the other side of the bed, and there he was.

Like a painting, Bob laid next to you, still off in his hopefully pleasant dreams. Loose strand of hair fell in front of his sleeping face, his mouth slightly agape to breathe, still swollen lips. In fact, all of your souvenirs from the night before laid over him: scattered hickeys along his neck and shoulders, and nail scratches peeking over from his upper back. It was perfect. He was perfect.

His breath readjusted as he began to stir a bit, and finally, his lashes fluttered open to see you. A childlike smile painted your face as you saw his sleepy eyes adjust to you. "Good morning sleepyhead," you pressed into the tip of his nose as you kissed it. He smiled an eyes closed one to you. "Morning honey." You had found out last night how much of a pet-name user Bob was. You didn't mind at all. It only helped seal the "it feels like i'm in a movie" idea for you. "How'd you sleep," he asked with his eyes still closed. "Good, great even," you hummed. "And you?" His eyes opened and he leaned in closer to you to kiss you silly. "Best in years, honest truth."

After some morning talk, Bob got up to go to the kitchen, leaving you with some extra minutes for sleep. When he returned, it was with a plate of breakfast on a tray just for the two of you. It took a miracle for you not to jump over the bed and onto him then and there. The plate for you included all your favorites: blueberry Eggos, orange slices, and eggs. These weren't your usual eggs though. "I know you like them burnt, but by the time I remembered, I had taken them out of the pan and these were the last two," he apologized.

You inspected the eggs with your fork. It scared you a little, but you'd rather risk a stomach ache than hurt Bob's feelings right now. And plus, it was time to finally grow up. Taking them onto your fork, you took a deep breath, and put them in your mouth.

Chew, chew, chew. Swallow.

God, these were so much better than rubbery, burnt eggs. "These are so fucking good Bob, oh my god," you salivated. He smiled that dumb grin and climbed into bed next to you, as the two of you continued the rest of your morning together. It was nice to know you didn't have to burn your eggs anymore. The other side was better than you could've imagined.

a.n: AND THATS IT i hope you liked it lol. this is by FARRRRR the longest fic i've ever written and it took like a week and a half to write rip so i hope you all enjoyed it. please leave a note or interact if you did, i'd really appreciate it. alright thank you so much again, catch you on the next one BYEEEEEE

[gossamyrrh]

dom!fem!reader

starry-eyed thinking about an anguished choso begging you to ride his face.

he’s on his knees, face-to-face with your glistening cunt, near salivating at the sheer closeness—the promise of such sweet, low-hanging fruit.

“pleaseee.” he whines, panting shallowly like a dog. whining like one, too. he brings his large hands up to grasp your thighs, squeezing them lightly and massaging in small circles as he watches your cunt twitch. “i need you. f-fuck i need you so bad.”

“i know, i know,” you coo. “but do you deserve it, cho’?” you level him with the meanest glare you can muster, bringing a curled finger beneath his chin and angling his head. “only good boys get to taste me.”

choso nods feverishly. blinks wildly as though he’s fighting back tears. “y-yes i deserve it. i’m… i’ve been a good boy.”

“have you?”

a whine. “yes.”

you card your fingers through choso’s hair and pull, a ragged moan trembling from within his throat. like the plucked string of a bass quavering. “good boys don’t take what they want, right?”

“r-right.” he groans. “please…”

you step a little closer, feeling choso’s quick breaths fanning against your skin. “so take what i give you, yeah? nothing more.”

and his lip begins to tremble with desire as you mount his face, hooking a leg over his broad shoulder, wringing his hair a little tighter for support. you grip it as though you are holding the reins to a mighty, wild stallion—and you suppose, in some humorous way, that you are. the dubiously proclaimed wrangler, to your needy, vulnerable pet.

and the second your pet tastes your cunt, he is a groaning, writhing mess. lets out a lengthy, broken whimper as you slowly rock back and forth across his mouth. warm tongue pressed flat against the centre of you.

“yes, cho’, just like that.” you throw your head back with a groan, yanking his hair just slightly. “you better stay still, l-like that.”

he moans into your cunt as you smother him. grinding your folds over his lips, his chin—the tip of his nose. coating him in your juices, watching as he eagerly drinks it down. as though it were the sweetest wine.

and like the good boy he promised he is—has been—choso just takes it. locks his neck, widens his mouth, does nothing to derive his own pleasure, focusing solely on yours—on being your good, little pet. your good, little toy. so you can get off and use him and find release as many times as you wish.

even if his pathetic cock is painfully straining against his briefs, a little patch of precum leaking from the top, he neglects himself. all for you! laps at your drooling cunt and noses your clit until you’re roughly tugging at his hair, rocking against his face, curling your toes in bliss as you cum on his face—all over his lips…

like a good boy, choso makes sure not a single drop goes to waste

[verstappenverse]

hmm Max x leclerc!reader who maybe has had a crush on him since the inchident days and they’re rly cute together

Something Like a Crush

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Summary: Twelve years after the infamous 'inchident', you’re still trying (and failing) to pretend you don’t have a crush on Max Verstappen.

2.4k words / Masterlist

You were ten years old when you first saw him roll his eyes on camera.

Max Verstappen, just fourteen at the time, sitting beside your brother in that now-infamous press conference after “the inchident.” He looked small at the table, short legs barely brushing the floor, arms crossed too tightly over his chest, but his expression was all sharp defiance and unfiltered frustration. His hair was messy, his cheeks still a little round with childhood, but his eyes? His eyes were furious.

Charles had been irritated too, he always was when someone dared to challenge him on track, especially during those high-stakes junior karting weekends. But where your brother was learning to smooth the edges, to answer with careful diplomacy, Max hadn’t figured out how to bite his tongue yet.

He spoke with his whole body, fidgeting in his seat, hands moving wildly as he gestured through his explanation if it could be called that. More like a defence. A barely-contained storm. He interrupted. He scoffed. He looked like he wanted to launch himself out of the chair and straight back into the kart just to prove a point.

And you? You were completely, hopelessly captivated.

Not that you understood what it all meant at ten years old, but you watched every race, every replay, every interview that came after, and that press conference had something different. Something that made your skin prickle with attention.

All you knew was that this Dutch boy with the sharp voice and restless hands had the exact same look on his face your brother got when someone touched his kart without asking. That fierce, simmering expression that meant: This is mine. Don’t mess with it.

You liked that. A lot.

You didn’t even know the weight of his name then, not really. Just Max, muttered under Charles’s breath when he was in a bad mood. “Max this” and “Max that” and “bloody Verstappen.”

You were too young to call it a crush, but years later when you did understand what it meant to feel butterflies, when you found yourself staring a little too long across the paddock, you’d trace the feeling back to that grainy video, to the boy with fire in his chest and rage in his hands, defending himself against your brother like he had nothing to lose.

You’d watched that press conference more times than you’d ever admit.

And maybe, in a way that only ten-year-old girls with scraped knees and delusions of future karting glory can, you’d decided then and there that Max Verstappen was yours.

You’d only met him in passing back then. Dragged along to circuits while Charles went off to race. But one moment stuck in your memory, warm and a little fuzzy at the edges, like something pulled out of an old scrapbook.

You’d been in Spain, if you remembered right. One of those endless karting weekends that all blurred together, heat shimmering off the track, the smell of petrol and tire rubber, your mother fussing with your sunhat, Charles already stomping away helmet in hand.

You’d wandered toward the drivers' area, trailing a melting ice cream, and found Max sitting alone on a stack of tires behind one of the garages, elbows on his knees, brows furrowed in concentration as he picked at a busted glove.

You recognised him immediately, though you pretended not to.

He looked up as you approached and you stopped a few feet away, unsure if you were allowed to be there.

“Your brother’s mad at me,” he said, without preamble.

You blinked, surprised he even knew who you were. “He’s always mad at someone.”

Max grinned at that, a quick flash of teeth. “Usually me.”

There was a beat of quiet. You shifted your weight, suddenly aware of the ice cream dripping down your wrist.

“Want some?” you offered, a little shy. “It’s strawberry.”

He eyed it like you’d handed him a ticking bomb. “It’s pink.”

“So?”

“I don’t eat pink things.”

You frowned. “That’s stupid.”

He laughed then, really laughed and took the cone from you anyway, wiping the side with the edge of his sleeve before taking a bite. You watched him swallow like he was trying to decide if this had been a mistake.

“It’s not bad,” he admitted eventually.

“Told you.”

He handed it back without looking at you, but his smile lingered. “You’re cool.”

You’d gone red to your ears. You remembered that part especially well.

It wasn’t a long interaction. A few minutes, maybe. But it had been the first time you saw him not as Max Verstappen, the boy your brother fought with, but as just Max. A kid. A little proud. A little weird. Surprisingly sweet.

And maybe that was the worst part, how vividly it stayed with you. How that one stupid, sticky, sunburnt afternoon lived rent-free in your memory even now.

Sometimes you wondered if he remembered it too. Sometimes you hoped he didn’t, because that would mean he’d seen your flushed cheeks, your clumsy hands, your starry-eyed crush forming in real time.

And you’d never quite shaken it. Not even now. Not even when Max Verstappen stood across the paddock, a four-time world champion in Red Bull colours, watching you with a smirk like he already knew every single thing you were trying not to feel.

Twelve years later, yours had turned into something far more inconvenient. What had started as a childhood fascination, an innocent, fleeting curiosity about the boy with too much fire in his chest had rooted itself somewhere deeper.

You were no longer the little sister trailing behind Charles in the paddock, clutching your pass with sticky fingers and swinging your legs under folding chairs during debriefs. You didn’t just belong in the paddock anymore.

You were paddock royalty in your own right.

F2 Champion. The youngest in years. Newly announced reserve driver for Ferrari. The slightly younger, slightly less temperamental Leclerc sibling, still smiling for the cameras, still fluent in three languages, still polished enough to carry the family name, but fierce enough to make it your own.

People didn’t just ask about your brother anymore. They asked about you.

And yet, somehow despite all of it you were still, hopelessly, a little bit in love with Max Verstappen.

Which was a problem. A very stupid, very complicated, Charles-shaped problem.

Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. Especially not with your brother still lurking in every corner of the paddock, always watching, always listening, still very capable of murder.

He had threatened Max once. Not outright. Not in a way that would ever make it into the press. Just a quiet, offhand comment delivered over a shared drink in the lounge after a chaotic sprint race in Austria.

“Don’t even think about it, I'll break your wrist.” Charles had said, calm as anything, not even looking up from his phone.

Max, to his credit, had just laughed, but you’d been there. You’d heard the edge in Charles’s voice. You’d seen the way Max’s smile twitched, like he knew exactly what was being said and exactly what would happen if he pushed it.

You remembered it very clearly.

Apparently, so did Max, because even now, years later, there was something deliberate about the way he looked at you. The way his gaze slid sideways instead of head-on. The way his jokes stopped just short of flirtation. Like he was holding himself back, not because he didn’t want to say the words, but because he didn’t trust the consequences if he did.

You weren’t sure if it made you want to strangle him or kiss him.

Sometimes both.

And the worst part? You didn’t know if the tension between you was real or just a shared, unspoken game that neither of you had the guts to end.

Because despite all the wins, the interviews, the champagne, you were still the girl who once gave him her half-eaten ice cream behind the garages in Spain. And he was still the boy who made your heart stutter when he smiled like he knew every version of you that had ever existed.

You stood at the edge of the hospitality suite now, your eyes flicking again to the Red Bull garage across the way. Max leaned against the wall like he hadn’t a care in the world, race suit unzipped to his waist, white fireproof clinging to him in a way that made your brain short-circuit.

He laughed at something his race engineer said, and your chest squeezed tight.

Beside you, Carlos didn’t even bother looking up from his phone. “You’re staring.”

You scoffed. “I’m not.”

“You’ve been staring at him since we walked in,” he muttered. “Since... 2011 really.”

You elbowed him, cheeks hot. “Shut up.”

Carlos grinned. “One of these days, you’re gonna have to do something about it. Preferably when Charles is in another time zone.”

“I don’t have a thing to do something about.”

“Mmhmm.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response, but your eyes still flicked back toward the garage, like they had a mind of their own. And of course that’s when Max looked up. Of course.

His gaze caught yours. Held it.

Your stomach dropped.

He didn’t look away. Didn’t pretend he hadn’t seen you watching. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, like he was amused and gave you a lazy, knowing half-smile that made your breath catch.

Damn it.

“He’s walking over,” Carlos said, not even pretending to hide his amusement.

Your heart stuttered. “What?”

Carlos stood abruptly, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Should I give you two some privacy? Or just text Charles now and save everyone the trouble?”

“I swear to God—”

But it was too late. You turned and Max was already close, just a few feet away, walking like he had all the time in the world, like he didn’t also look unfairly good under fluorescent lighting.

He smiled at you and Carlos, easy and warm, but his eyes lingered on you a second too long.

“Afternoon, Leclerc” he greeted smoothly, voice low and a little smug. “What are we talking about?”

“Nothing,” you blurted too fast.

Carlos grinned. “Her crush.”

You were going to kill him.

Max raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”

You shot Carlos a glare so deadly he actually stood up, clearly deciding to spare himself. “I’ll leave you two,” he said casually. “Good luck with the… crush.”

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Max turned back to you slowly, arms folding across his chest, amusement dancing in his eyes. “So…”

You crossed your arms. “He’s an idiot.”

“Maybe,” Max agreed, then paused. “Is it true?”

You blinked. “Is what true?”

He tilted his head. “That you have a crush.”

“I—” You swallowed. “That depends.”

Max’s eyes twinkled. “On what?”

You tried to keep your voice steady. “Are you going to make fun of me?”

He stepped closer, just enough to make your breath catch. “Of course not”

There was a beat of silence. Your heart was doing gymnastics.

“Then maybe,” you said softly, voice barely above the noise of the paddock, eyes locked with his. “Maybe it’s true.”

His lips parted slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to say it. Not really. You watched something flicker behind his eyes, surprise, maybe.

He didn’t speak right away just studied your face like he was trying to memorise it. Then, finally.

“You know Charles threatened to kill me once,” he murmured. “Told me not to look at you for more than five seconds at a time.”

You laughed nervously. “I remember.”

“I think I timed myself for a year after that,” he said with a soft smile. “Four seconds, look away. Four seconds, look away.”

You stared at him. “Seriously?”

His smile faded just a little, the teasing slipping from his features until only something soft remained, something honest. His eyes gentled, tone dropping into something more careful. “I’ve liked you since before I knew how to handle it. Since before it was allowed to be anything.”

Your breath caught.

He looked away briefly, then back at you, and there was something achingly sincere in the way he said it. “And then you started racing. Kicking ass. Winning everything. Being smarter than half the grid and not even pretending to downplay it. And you grew up, and I started seeing you for you, and then it was just…” He shook his head with a helpless little shrug. “Game over.”

For a second, you forgot how to breathe.

Your mouth opened. Closed. Your voice was quiet, uneven. “Seriously?”

Max nodded, almost shy now. “Inchident days.”

You blinked, dazed. “I was like… ten.”

“And you were already cooler than me,” he said, eyes crinkling a little, like it was obvious. Like it had always been obvious.

You laughed, sudden and bright, because what else could you do when the ground was shifting under your feet?

But it was short-lived, because your chest was suddenly too tight, your thoughts tripping over themselves, years of doubt trying to catch up to reality.

“I thought I was imagining it,” you admitted, and your voice cracked, just slightly. “I’ve felt like the idiot for so long, like it was just me stuck in some schoolgirl fantasy I never grew out of. You’d look at me and I’d feel it and then you’d blink and it was gone, and I’d spend hours convincing myself I made it all up.”

Max’s expression softened even further, and he stepped closer not enough to touch, not yet, but enough that you could feel the heat of him.

“It wasn’t just you,” he said again, firmer this time. “It was never just you.”

It felt like a mirage. Like something your brain had conjured in the haze of too many years and too many unspoken moments. You half expected it to vanish if you reached for it.

But it didn’t. Because Max was still looking at you like that with the quiet weight of someone who’d been holding this just as tightly, just as secretly, all this time. Your heart couldn’t tell the difference between disbelief and something dangerously close to joy.

He nodded. “Been wanting to ask for years, I think I've finally realised I’d rather risk getting punched in the face than keep pretending I don’t feel what I feel every time I look at you."

Your heart twisted, painfully fond.

“Okay,” you said, heart hammering. “So what now?”

Max shrugged. “Now I ask if maybe, hypothetically, you’d want to grab a drink. Or a walk. Or maybe let me kiss you in a place where your brother definitely can’t see us.”

You smiled, cheeks burning. “All of the above?”

His grin was slow, devastating. “Good choice.”

[jjk4isen]

ꗃ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃, 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 .

❝ answer me. did you think of her when you're in bed with me? when you're kissing me and holding me— was she the one on your mind? ❞

summary: it's hard knowing you aren't really the person in toji's heart but loving him was something you still did regardless. as for toji, he thinks he's ready to give you his all.

desc: 2.8k words, f!reader (referred to as ‘mama’), canon compliant i think, takes place after mamaguro's death and before toji’s, age gap (early 20s reader, early 30s toji), baby gumi ahhhhh, sfw, angst to fluff to angst again lol, intended lowercase, think you're tsumiki’s mom but without tsumiki bc the relations would be too complicated and also the second wife erasure in the canon storyline?? yeah it's reserved specifically for this fic, not proof read i fear but pls read it's really interesting i can swear by it lmaoqhdhns

dating a widowed man with a son wasn't easy especially when the said man is still in love with his former wife, or rather, his wife who had died.

love is often beautiful but sometimes it's unfair. it can also be cruel. what other reason would make you still stay despite knowing you'll never measure upto the person who had been here before you?

and you've heard stories about her. she was sweet, so beautiful— not just in her appearance but her entire being was beautiful. there always was an ache in your heart upon just the mention of her name.

so how much more would it have ached for toji?

“mama” the spiky haired boy, barely two years old calls you and you realise the silence in the room. “not mama, i’m nana okay?” sick.

nana. not mama but close enough. it doesn't matter anyway, n and m are just letters and next to each other so how much difference would that make? you're the one that's here after all, are you not?

if there's a lump in your throat and your eyes are burning with unshed tears, you force yourself to ignore.

“okay nana” megumi nuzzles his face into your chest, slowly drifting away to sleep. the boy always liked cuddling with you and it melts your heart immensely.

your hands strand through his dark hair. people always said he's the carbon copy of his dad but you'd like to differ. megumi has his mother's eyes and his hair resembled hers more than it did his dad's.

the thought sends another ache in your chest but you push it away– as you always have.

you recall the last time toji had heard megumi call you “mama”. you had never seen toji that livid. he was never a gentle man to begin with but that night, there was nothing else you've been more scared of.

was he like that to his wife? maybe not.

does that matter though? it's not like toji treats you badly. he's decent and loves you an enough amount. you weren't crazy enough to stay when you're not wanted so that must mean you were something to him right?

you also recall the whispers of pity and condemnation thrown at you for just being with toji. him being a brute is one thing but the difference in age is what people seem to have a problem with. you're so much younger than him and have your whole life ahead of you so why are you entrapping yourself this way?

you disagree though. love doesn't know any age and you definitely aren't naive to be head over heels over a guy just because he's relatively older. no, this was real and genuine.

a faint knock disrupts your train of thoughts. “he sleepin’?” toji nods towards the small boy in your arms and you nod back in return.

taking care not to wake the sleeping kid, you slowly pry his hands away from you and pull over a blanket to cover his small body.

when you make your way towards toji, he wastes no time in pulling you closer “missed you” he mumbles, placing a kiss onto your forehead and suddenly all thoughts plaguing your mind disappears. that's all you could ask for, even if it was just for a moment.

“i missed you more” you whisper back, he only huffs out an amused chuckle.

“got bad news though” a frown finds itself on his lips, decorated by a single scar next to it.

“did you lose all your money again?” toji was a gambling addict, another thing you forced yourself to tolerate just for him.

“sorry, doll. thought i’d win this time” he rubs small circles on your back comfortingly and it makes you a bit uneasy to know that he has his way with you so easily.

“it's alright. i’ll just find another part time job”

“so good to me” toji pulls you into his chest and you let out a sigh— of exhaustion? relief? you couldn't really tell but that's not important, toji had you in his arms.

“i’ll try and think of something too. don't worry your pretty little head too much” he lifts you up with ease. while you're in his arms, you feel the safest.

toji really felt bad this time. he was confident he would win but that stupid horse had to trip and lose its lead, ending up last of all places. he knows luck never favoured him but that's didn't stop him from trying again and again and again.

he also knows how you didn't say anything more than necessary about it but he isn't that much of an idiot either. he sees how your expression falters and your shoulders slump a little more when he comes home with another news of his gambling loss.

this is also why he tries, or rather, tried to quit — one too many times, unbeknownst to you. however, old habits die hard and most of the time (everytime) toji gives into his urge and loses yet again. the cycle keeps happening.

maybe this isn't just about gambling.

with the way you're asleep so soundly next to him after putting his son to sleep and taking care of him too, he is overcomed with yet another feeling to be better for you and megumi alike.

toji isn't a gentle man; everyone knows that, you do too — even more than anybody else but he can't help the familiar pool of warm feelings surging through him the longer he stares at your peaceful state.

he remembers the last time he felt it, with another person. it felt like a lifetime ago.

he also remembers how painful it was when he lost it — the person, the feeling altogether. his hands that were making their way to caress your face stops mid air.

toji knows you deserve so much better. you've been nothing but patient to him, so amazing, so perfect to him. still, he just can't do it yet, just not yet.

he will eventually, he hopes you stay until then.

toji wakes up to an empty bed and his heart sinks a little but the creases and wrinkles on the sheets serve as a reminder that you were really here.

he makes his way towards the kitchen, only finding megumi sitting on a chair next to the dining table.

“hey kid, where's your mama?”

toji freezes. it came out so naturally he didn't realise he said it himself and almost thinks he didn't but megumi's wide eyes prove that he actually did.

“m…mama?” megumi says hesitantly and toji nods this time. “yes, your mama”.

“potty potty!” megumi points to the bathroom and giggles, toji follows suit. the man crouches to his son's eye level and pats his head.

“you love your mama, kid?” toji sees megumi's eyes sparkle as the boy nods enthusiastically “very very much!!”

“yeah? i love your mama too.”

toji smiles to himself, he can't wait to tell that to you.

the next time toji got his pay, he finds himself hesitating. instead of heading towards the race tracks, his feet takes him to a jewellery store.

instead of picking out a slot and testing his luck, he picks out a ring. it's not fancy by any means but he thinks it would be the most beautiful band of metal to exist if it slides into your ring finger.

the tiny ring carries all the heavy feelings he has for you.

──

it was one particular evening when you saw an old man lingering by the front gate. its particular because the warm sunset and the soft cool breeze contrasted the ground breaking truth you find out.

“can i help you?” you ask the old man who looks at you up and down, not making an attempt to hide his distaste of your sight.

“is this where toji zenin lives?” he stares down at you with his scrutinising gaze; it makes you feel small.

“zenin?” you ask, confused. is he referring to toji? but his last name is fushiguro is it not?

“yes toji zenin. i heard he has a son as well. you're not the mother are you?”

is it that obvious? you wonder how the old man figured it out. regardless, you're not about to give him his answers so you stood your ground.

“i’m sorry i don't know what you're talking about.” you turn around, about to head inside when his words make you stop short.

“are you fushiguro?”

that's toji’s last name isn't it? not zenin or whatever he called it. so why is he asking you that? is he implying that you're married to toji?

“no. you have the wrong person.”

“why? did he say not to get involved with anyone from his clan?” the old man draws closer, chucking to himself. you're just there unmoving, trying to comprehend the situation and the words coming from his mouth.

“or did he not tell you that either? did he tell you anything at all?” he stands tall in front of you, tearing away bits of yourself with every word he says.

“when he returns, tell him the clan wants to propose him an offer. you can do that much at least won't you?”

…

and when toji comes home that night with the ring cluched tightly in his fist and inside the pocket of his white pants, the world stills.

he finds you in a state he has never seen you before. you look completely and utterly defeated.

“hey, what's wrong?” his hands come to caress your face so effortlessly, the ring and prior nervousness long forgotten.

“talk to me what's going on?” he looks around and the house seems emptier than usual. your laundry that were usually hanging with his were gone.

your small trinkets you placed around the house to “make it more lively” were nowhere to be found.

and there's a bag in the corner of the room which toji prays and hopes he isn't what he thinks it is.

your hands push away his own that were cupping your face. you're not even looking at him.

“say something damn it!”

you flinch and toji takes a step back. he recalls the last time you trembled in fear — when he got mad megumi called you his mom. he punishes himself for it.

“im sorry. please talk to me.” he isn't touching you now but he wants to. he wants to reach out and pull you close, as he always had done. but now there's an unbearable silence and the small distance between you both felt like lightyears away.

“who's zenin” your voice was meek, barely a whisper but toji's eyes widen. how did you find out about that?

no fuck that, he was supposed to be the one telling you. in his own time.

“i can explain” was all that came out of him. he's nervous, he doesn't know where to start. there's a lot of information to unpack and he's not sure how to do it without hurting you too much.

when he doesn't elaborate, you ask another “who's fushiguro then?” your voice falters a bit and toji curses himself for it.

but he's done running away and keeping things from you. “my… my late wife” he says wryly.

your eyes close and a shaky breath leaves your body, as if he just confirmed your worst suspicions. damn life is so funny isn't it? everything you thought you knew apparently wasn't what it seemed to be after all.

opening them again, your vision blurs and you realise tears were escaping your eyes. fuck you didn't want to cry now of all times but they won't stop.

and the way toji was looking at you, it makes you want to throw up.

“i must've been so stupid to you” you let out a humourless chuckle. “did you pretend im her?”

your gaze was sharp and so were your words. maybe all your bottled up feelings were resurfacing. it doesn't make you feel better about it but that doesn't stop you though.

“answer me. did you think of her when you're in bed with me? when you're kissing me and when you're holding me, was she the one on your mind??” your voice was loud now. you should be afraid of waking up megumi who you cradled to sleep just a few hours ago but no, your thoughts are too clouded right now.

toji sighs. he has no excuse.

“i used to” he actually looks ashamed as if he wasn't the one who did it purely out of his will.

your scoff makes him wince “but not anymore.”

his words fall on deaf ears “you know… i knew you did. but i stayed regardless because i thought there would be a chance that maybe one day, you could open up your heart to me. im not even asking for all of it, just a little… i thought you'd let me in.”

you're blabbering and honestly, so distraught.

“but not a moment was there when it was me isn't it? it was always her in the first place.”

now toji should have said something, anything but he stays there planted in place. and maybe that was your breaking point.

you turn around, grabbing your bag and brushing past him towards the door. instead of holding onto you and stopping you, toji clutches the small box containing the ring — your ring in his pocket, almost crushing it in the process, as he hears the door slam.

you think it's funny how toji did not reach out after what happened. it's poetic even. very fitting of him, till the very end, he did not give two shits about you.

so then, why were you back here?

it's been four long years since the trajectory of your life changed. you still don't know if it was for the better or for the worse.

saying it has been hard would be an understatement. it took you a long time just to get back onto your own feet but you did it regardless. however, you left a part of you here long ago and now, you're here to take it back.

that and you missed megumi dearly. perhaps it was an excuse too because you won't deny a part of you still missed toji, despite everything that happened.

standing a few feet away from the place you used to call home, you hesitate.

maybe this was a bad idea. oh this was definitely a bad idea. you'll see them, and then what? what comes after that?

closure? don't make yourself laugh. you’ll just be reminded of how you couldn't be that person for toji— how you'll always come second. and what if they moved?? there's no reason they'd still be here right?

forget this, you don't need to do this. why must you still be the one who put effort? to reach out? four long years passed and still no news means they clearly moved on... right?

you were convinced enough and was about to go back when you saw little megumi carrying a backpack on his back, seemingly coming home from school.

your feet wouldn't move and your eyes wouldn't blink. he grew up so well.

the world pauses as your gaze follows the kid you used to consider your own, now as good as a stranger.

“do you know that kid?” a voice at your back makes you whip your head around. life really is full of surprises and this time, the surprise was in the form of a tall man, no a tall kid with white hair, looking at you curiously through his round tinted glasses.

“... no i don't” well you weren't exactly lying. you don't know the megumi you see now. perhaps if he asked whether you raised him since he was a baby till he was two, then your answer would've been different.

“oh okay” the boy shrugs. “poor guy though”

“why? whats up with him?” you turn to look at megumi again who was minding his business walking home and your heart aches a little.

“I'm here to recruit him. his dad died you see so he's–”

“wait what was that??”

“his dad. he's dead” the amused boy in front of you chuckles and you stare at him, horrified.

“what happened to him?” your voice was shaky and doesn't sound like your own. he leans down to meet your eye level and smirks “why? i thought you don't know that kid. why does that matter to you?”

your stomach churns as you stare at him, not even knowing what to say— the smug expression on his face only widens.

“so you do know him.”

'know' would be a weak word to use when it comes to toji. you knew of his habits, the simple things he does and also of the more complex ones — like the exact place his scar decorated his lips and how it felt to kiss it.

then again, you don't really know anything about him and maybe you never will.

and maybe that's really, the closure you needed.