#made these gifs for no reason whatsoever...

[isitdonproof]

Sonic Prime | 2x08 Ghost of a Chance

[sparanero]

Rod Taylor in THE HELL WITH HEROES (1968)

[mdsbabygirl]

Being their fuckbuddy

Pairing: Otoya Eita/Itoshi Sae/Bachira Meguru/Shidou Ryusei/Chigiri Hyoma/Barou Shouei x FEM!reader(separately)

Part2

Synopsis: you're currently emotionally unavailable, yet you still wanna satisfy your sexual urges.. so what do you do? You become fwb with these egoists

Note: I didn't proof read this, so that's why you may find mistakes or parts that are longer than others.

Cw: emotionally unavailable reader, very horny men(especially shidou ooff), womanizer/fuckboy/pegging/roleplays(otoya), views this relationship as purely transactional/hates gossip and rumors(sae), obsessive/simp(Bachira), straight up devil/ has a humiliation kink/kinda harassing ngl/sextape(shidou), very much in love/pussy drunk/simp n°2(chigiri), vengeful/has a superiority complex/he thinks he's your king lol(Barou)

Otoya:

•He's very pleased with this, liking your relationship very much.. he's a free man who likes women, so when you came up to him suggesting the idea, he couldn't deny you. Having such a pretty girl to fuck with no strings attached was hot af to him. He liked the idea of having fun with you in bed, getting to know you on such an intimate level, and the fact that this was in fact ephemeral, meaning he could get out of this whenever he wanted, made him very excited.

•he would come to your house many times a week, just straight up knocking at your door, flashing you one of his sexy smirks when you open the door. With his frame towering over yours, he'd look down at you with lust filled eyes, chasing you with his antics so you'll let him in and ravage you.

•Each encounter with him is very passionate, a unique experience where the both of you get to feel immense pleasure. Otoya would like to keep things fun and exciting, meaning you'd likely experiment with different positions, techniques and scenarios. The both of you had tried everything really, ranging from him fucking and bending you in every position possible, you roleplaying as a little bunny or fox for him, to even pegging... Oh damn he really did enjoy that, the feeling of being dommed by you made him a different kind of tingles down there, the kind that he would love to feel again once you meet up for another encounter.

Sae:

•i think sae would enjoy this kind of relationship too, since it means he won't have to stray much from soccer. Your little link is purely and entirely transactional, you both give each other pleasure and that's it, then everyone goes his separate ways. Sae is known to have a very busy life, meaning he would want to waste time on a gf, that he'd most likely neglect. So in order to spare a poor girl this pain, he'd rather get fwb so that way he can satisfy his urges, without caring about the aftermath.

•Sae would be very strict during the times he meets you, he required you to have no phone, no camera and no recorder whatsoever whenever the two of you meet, he wouldn't want rumors about his personal life spreading around like a wildfire, which is why secrecy means a lot to him. He'd often arrange your meetings at some hotel, avoiding doing it in either of your houses for the reasons mentioned before, that's why all of your fucking sessions happen at luxurious suites or extravagant penthouses.

•whenever Sae fucks you, it's heavenly. He made sure that the two of you are on the same page, setting clear boundaries, and making sure your wants are aligned. His fucking style would be deliberate, going straight to the point, making sure the both of you get the most out of this experience. That's why he wouldn't waste a single second in putting you on all fours, forcefully thrusting behind you so that you're seeing stars and moaning so slutty loud.

Bachira:

•oh man, Bachira is excited beyond imagination at the thought of having such relationship with you. Not only is he such a sucker for good sex but also he's a simp for you. I reckon he'd like having you, touching and pleasuring you, enjoying every second he spends thrusting inside you.. He's never had such an intimate link with someone, so all the freshness this relationship brings to his life, makes him look forward to every one of your encounters.

•Though I think the "no strings attached" part of your relationship would kinda piss him off. I mean, since it would be his first time experiencing something like this, he'd grow somewhat fond of you, getting easily attached and even possessive of you. He'd always want to be by your side, even if it's not in a sexual context, which makes you think he's cute. Still, you remind him whatever you have is purely transactional and it shouldn't spiral into something bigger. He'd always brush you off, pretending to understand and agree with you, while deep inside he'd be thinking about a way to finally make you his.. maybe he could poke holes in the condom next time you meet.. he doesn't know yet, but he will make you his one way or another.

•As for the sex with this man, I think it's be a very funny yet exhilarating experience. Bachira is known for his creativity, meaning he'd always find a way to ignite a new spark to your already interesting sex life. He could do this by exploiting his oral skills, using his destrous tongue to lap at your soaked folds, sucking on your swollen clit, to make you writhe and shake under his touch, or even use his cock.. he'd hold your head in place, using your throat as his fucktoy as he'd play around with the remote of the little vibrator that is pushed deep inside your dripping wet cunt..

Shidou:

•ok this man.. pure filth.. things might've started just as a one nightstand but they quickly spiraled into something way freakier. This man is not only horny, but he's also very um.. unique? I mean, he didn't verbally tell you to be his fwb, he just started showing up at your door frequently, entering your house as if it was his, sitting on the large sofa of your living room, telling you to "come please your demon.." umm.. ok Ryusei, IG the only thing that saves you is your hotness paired with your cock size.. fine with me. So that's how you'd always end up in shidou's lap, legs squished against your chest as his big fat cock bullies its way into your sopping wet cunt. Yeah getting fucked like this in your living room was a very frequent if not daily occurrence.

•since I mentioned earlier that this man is indeed a sex addicted devil, it means that he'd follow you around everywhere, if he doesn't find you at home for your daily sassy time sesh, he'd go out to look for you, and once he finds you, he'd have no shame in just pointing out the fact that you ditched your "date", shidou went as far as to point that out in front of your friends, humiliating you in the worst way possible. After managing to get you home someday, he'd squeeze the plump flesh of your ass, whispering seducingly in your ear, how horny it had made him humiliating you in front of everyone..

•Ryusei would most likely fuck you in the freakiest, most mind-blowing ways. He'd be big on making you go dumb on his dick, reducing you to putty in his hands, and making your mind go blank from all the pleasure he's making you feel. I feel like shidou would also like to film your sexy times, insisting that having a camera pointed at him during such an intimate moment makes his duck ten times harder.. you don't deny him, since this bullshit he's into is kinda hot too.. so whenever your sucking him off, taking his whole length down your tight throat, or riding him like there's no tomorrow while your ass bounces on his fat cock, all while he's moaning like the most slutty pornstar and babbling filthy nonsense.. his little camera is there to record each second of your shared sins..

Chigiri:

•once he laid eyes on you, chigiri felt a burning lust igniting within him, a surging need for your body that left him so needy and starved for your touch. He was so relieved when he finally got to have you, the feeling of your skin on his, the feeling of your tongue on him and your warm wet pussy on his dick was way too addicting.. he wanted more, he wanted to have you more and more each time he got to fuck you. Chigiri didn't consider himself the type to get a fuckbuddy, always opting for a traditional relationship where he could have a living gf he'd love ve and cherish.. but not this time. This time, it was his dick that thought for him, his impeding greed taking over his rationality, making him fall in a dark pitch where only your body was his only salvation.

•chigiri wouldn't mind dating you, really, I mean you're totally his type, plus you're so good at sex, as you always make him feel like he's reaching heaven with how much pleasure you make him feel.; but alas, he doesn't know you enough and since you told him that you wanted no strings attached he couldn't do anything about this anymore. He just had to grip at whatever y'all had, and not let it go no matter what happened. He wasn't possessive, always respecting your boundaries, but deep inside he couldn't deny the lingering feeling of wanting you to be fully his, the endless scenarios of how his life would be if you were more than just his fuck buddy.. yet again, he'd always let those thoughts sink deep within his conciousness, opting that keeping whatever y'all have was better than nothing at all.

•chigiri was so passionate and romantic during sex. His intimate touches, and soft gestures always made you blush and quiver under him so vulnerably. You'd always ask why he'd be so gentle w you, but he'd always smile softly, caressing your face, saying that that's how pretty ladies should be treated.. still, this doesn't mean he couldn't just bend you in whichever position he saw fit and fuck you till you saw stars. In fact, whenever chigiri was very horny, especially after any matches or training, he'd pound you so mercilessly, the fast and rough pace of his thrusts made you so weak in the limbs, making him hold you close to his body, kissing your neck and shoulders as he felt your pussy clench around his cock, milking him of all he's worth, "ahh I'm so close" he'd whimper, biting down on your shoulder..

Barou:

•Barou didn't like one night stands or this fwb trope, he really didn't; or at least that's what he told himself.. it was until he net you that he thought, maybe he could make a little exeption. He did try at first to win you over, doing everything he could to get you to be his gf, but you just didn't want any of that. He felt a bit pissed, not understanding why you wouldn't want him as your bf.. but then when you mentioned your reasonings and the fact that you were open to having a sexual relationship with him, he started to think about this possibility.. I mean, he did like you, surely, but he did also have quite the hunger for your body. He noticed the way you'd sway your hips when you walk around him, wear mini skirts and quite the revealing tops in his company so he thought that if that's what you wanted then he could try it out.. still that didn't mean that if this didn't work out he wouldn't leave.

•since you refused his feelings, it remained only the lust lingering between the two of you. Barou insisted to himself that it was going to be a one time fling, your nonchalance for his emotions already a huge turn off of him, yet he still couldn't get enough of your body, each time he felt the touch of your hands on his chest, the kiss you'd leave on his lips, the squeeze your cunny would give him was way too agonizingly addicting. He shouldn't have given you a chance, he thinks, he should have never accepted your stupid offer, but here he was, laying beside you as he was fingering you, getting you nice and ready for your steamy session, as you were jerking him off. This was your little ritual, the start of your passionate and burning desires, that always left his body satisfied, unlike his mind that was always wandering..

•barou would fuck you roughly, mostly because he likes it that way, but also because it was his little revenge on you for rejecting him. He's quite the revengeful person, so he'd grab at each opportunity he gets, to show you who's your king. That's why, whenever shouei is fucking you in doggy, pressing your head into the mattress, and sinking his cock so deep it might breach your cervix, he'd always ask you who you belong to, reminding you of your weakness against your king's power. "That's right baby, who's your king huh?! Who's your fucking king?!" He'd loudly groan while his dick is stretching you out to the max, making you whimper, cry and just obey this egoist whose insatiable hunger for you turned him into a devilish monster.

© mdsbabygirl do not copy or translate any of my content without my permission.

[monochromed-elf]

Random astro notes 1

╔═══════°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══════╗

Take what resonates! I'm no professional astrologer.

These observations are made from my experiences.

╚═══════°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══════╝

✮⋆｡ 6h Jupiter and easily gaining weight. especially if you're also Jupitarian.

✮⋆｡ 6h Jupiter also makes you suck at managing your time and tasks (Overly optimistic about it).

✮⋆｡ Again, my experience with 6h Jupiter and being called big animals.

✮⋆｡ Cancer Mercury and what is that handwriting of yours omg I'm sorry you're getting complaints about it😭 I can understand a doctor's paracetamol but not your hello.

✮⋆｡ Cancer/4h Lilith, your mother is most likely to hate on your friend with a Cancer stellium/prominent Cancer placements for no reason whatsoever. Especially if the friend is healing your mommy issues. Your mother will automatically think they're brainwashing you.

✮⋆｡ 4h Lilith also means you always try to save your mother. Don't do it. Stop that. Because she won't appreciate your attempts and will side with what hurts her! Learn that she's not your responsibility.

✮⋆｡ I feel like Gemini Mars will certainly space out during anything sexual, literally getting railed while thinking of taxes or whatever is going on. It's definitely the ADHD lol.

✮⋆｡ Gemini Venus please stop accidentally flirting with us, oh and the mixed signals.

✮⋆｡ Heavy water placements but with an Aries Moon can give off the vibes of the therapist friend with heavy random outbursts when they're tired of therapitizing everyone. Especially if Moon conjuncts Uranus.

✮⋆｡ All of the Capricorn Moons I know have heavy sociopathic traits.

✮⋆｡ Meanwhile Aquarius Moons can't stop blaming body chemicals for their emotions (dopamine and all of that).

✮⋆｡ "Choose the person who has your Moon sign as their Venus sign" is actually true. But it won't last long (maximum 2 years) and you both will become strangers. (unless you both meet daily or live together).

✮⋆｡ Mars conjunct Saturn will make you like BDSM a lot.

✮⋆｡ 4h Chiron, please do not create a family UNLESS you are healed. You'll traumatize all of your kids but fucking be an angel parent to other families. Similar with 5h Chiron but it's mostly with kids.

✮⋆｡ 4h/5h Chiron could be an indicator of being a narcissistic parent too. I'm indeed traumatized.

✮⋆｡ Always remember that Neptune=Delulu. Be careful where it is, it's both a blessing and a curse.

✮⋆｡ A close person's Venus in your 12h and omg they fucking appear in your dreams.

✮⋆｡ 9h Saturn are one of the most closed minded people I've ever met. They are seriously unable to see other perspectives.

✮⋆｡ The Sun House shows you how you treat your own dad. 11h sun: your friend, 10h: your boss, 4h: an actual parent Imao. It also can show why your dad loves or hates you because of such status: "I'm your dad stop treating me like a: (11h) friend/(3h) older brother/(5h) kid".

✮⋆｡ Fire IC/4h ruled by a fire sign is really a strong indicator of a bad family.

✮⋆｡ 3h Saturn natives bond by talking shit about their siblings.

✮⋆｡ 3h Saturn also might indicate having a loud voice (especially with prominent air signs placements).

✮⋆｡ 3h Uranus and yes 90% chance your siblings were unexpected, or you may have an unexpected story of a sibling (like you had a sibling that died before you or smth wild).

✮⋆｡ I find that Lilith/Chiron placements are so...damn, similar. Except that Lilith is horny and Chiron is actually serious about the problem lol. An example: 9h Lilith might fetishize their religious trauma/an experience with a foreigner. While 9h Chiron will be disgusted and crying and trying to fix fix fix. Lilith needs to be embraced as it is, Chiron actually needs the fucking healing instead.

✮⋆｡ One vs one opposite Nodes will either fix or ruin your life. For example you're an Aries North Node. A Libra North Node will be quite the teacher for you.

✮⋆｡ 5h/7h stelliums have the juiciest stories about their love life. But 7h is more likely to give you great advice about love lol.

✮⋆｡ Pluto conjunct Ascendant is very likely to look young compared to their age (my bestie being called a high schooler while she's in college damn).

✮⋆｡ Give a 3h Neptune alcohol and watch them become a professional poet and creatively high (Like those old Chinese/Arabic/Persian poets lol).

✮⋆｡ Neptune conjunct Ascendant, always seen as lazy and sleeps a lot.

✮⋆｡ Cancer/Pisces Mars can be actually super violent and not the usual passive aggressive shit. Especially in men.

✮⋆｡ (Vedic!) We always hate the type of men/women with our DK planet energy somehow (But we end up being really good with them). Mercury DK hates young and childlike people. Venus DK hating overly romantic and artistic people. It's life's way of saying SIKE—

✮⋆｡ Having the South Node in a sign and someone having a stellium/prominent placements of such sign (like, you being Leo South Node and you meet someone with Leo Stellium). Please run away from them. Early meetings and encounters with them feel like heaven but will slowly ruin you.

✮⋆｡ The same goes with your Rising Sign. If someone's stellium/prominent placements is in the same sign as your rising. The stellium person will be better than you at the things the sign values and your rising will become bitter. It'll be ugly. Go for people with your descendant's energy.

Thank you for reading💜

@monochromed-elf

[hanahaki270]

♡ Sharing a Dorm ♡

♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡

Synopsis ┊Your dorm is going under renovation and you need to find a place to crash in for a while. Luckily a certain someone offers you to stay in theirs for the time being.

Characters ┊Katsuki Bakugou, Shoto Todoroki, Izuku Midoriya.

A/N ┊beginner Writer here, these were harder to think of than I thought ngl. If you have any requests please send them to me, I'm open to do different characters and also different anime's!

♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡

Katsuki Bakugou

❥ By no means whatsoever does he offer his dorm out of the kindness of his heart. He just got pissed off of seeing you sleeping on the couch in the commons area every morning, and accidentally stepping on your blanket or pillows. After stepping on your blanket once more he grabs your shit and puts it in his dorm and acts like he's bothered by this but really he doesn't mind at all.

❥ Makes you sleep on the floor for the first two nights until you convince him to share the bed. He's reluctant at first but then allows it as long as you stay on your side of the bed. Do you really though?

❥ Expect to sleep earlier and get your sleep schedule in check because his dorm, his rules, lights are off at ten pm sharp with no exceptions.

❥ Also expect your grades to go up. While he's your roommate he's going to make you don't slack off on your studies.

❥ When he wakes up in the morning and notices your head resting on his chest he gets somewhat annoyed but secretly likes it. he's willing to get behind on his strict schedule and let you rest on him a little longer. but just a little.

❥ Demands you now be his training partner but is careful to not get carried away. You're strong, but he still doesn't want to run the risk of hurting you. therefore, he always keeps Aid kits in the bathroom just in case you do get any scratches, even if they're minor.

❥ Constantly threatening to kick you out over every little thing but actually has no intention of doing so. He won't admit it but he enjoys your company. "I swear if I see one more sock lying around I'm grabbing your shit and throwing it out."

♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡

Shoto Todoroki

❥ "Why don't you sleep with me." he said boldly unaware of how his sentence had more than one connotation to it. I mean you need help and as your friend he's more than willing to help you out. plus he has the biggest dorm compared to everyone else, if anything he's the most suitable to offer his help he thought.

❥ Asks you what temperature you prefer to sleep in so he can use his quirk to either make the room colder or warmer depending on your preference. and ALWAYS makes sure to make both sides of your pillows cold.

❥ When he's out visiting his mother you make sure the place is clean (though it usually is since he tends to be on the neater side) and prepare some soba for him as a token of your appreciation. After a couple of times he starts to look forward for it and got saddened the one day you forgot.

❥ In return he made sure not turn on the lights when getting ready in the morning as to not wake you up. Part of it was for a selfish reason though, he thought it was cute how you slept soundly on his bed.

❥ Speaking about sleep; During the night he would find himself cozying up next to you, not on purpose though. He just felt comfort in your presence and he realized you felt the same way when you also moved closer to him during the night.

❥ Leaves out coffee for you in the mornings since you tend to stay up late on nights and wake up always running late to your classes.

♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡

Izuku Midoriya

❥ Overheard you talking to Tsuyu and Uraraka about how you need a place to sleep in and walked over to offer his help without a second thought. You already spend most of your time in his dorm room during the day to share notes anyways. The only difference would just be you spending the night.

❥ Offers for you to sleep in his bed while he sleeps on the floor. After you refuse to let him sleep on the floor he shyly agrees to share the bed with you constantly asking you if you're okay with it.

❥ Midoriya stays up late at night writing in his notebook and murmuring thoughts to himself. You persuade him to go to bed and leave his worries for the following day. he deeply apologizes for the burden kind of embarrassed. "I-I'm sorry! was I keeping you up? I'll go to bed in a few minutes don't worry."

❥ Always invites you to go out with him whenever he leaves the dorm, even if it's something as simple as going to the gas station to get some snacks.

❥ he loves to talk your ear off geeking out about the knowledge he knows about the top heroes and their quirks. When he notices he got carried away he gets all types of flustered but even then he doesn't get the sense of being judged.

❥ Since he's constantly getting injured and going to see Recovery girl he always comes back exhausted. regardless, his stubborn ass still tries to go out on missions and push himself to the limits. he get's frustrated when you don't let him do so and force him to rest and leave his chores to you. But he loves you for it.

[sayuri-of-the-valley]

On how Crowley and Aziraphale felt during the kiss (but mainly Crowley here):

Ok so first, the main idea for this huge meta is that a LOT of us noticed how the music from the kiss scene is similar to the nebula one, right?

Second, a lot of us also correctly noticed the parallels between the kiss and how it was to taste food for the first time for Aziraphale: bc of his reactions, the hand on lips, the similar way MS acted both scenes, the little inhale etc. So how was it for Crowley?

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss is practically a puzzle to solve on its own, so it's fun to analyse it, but basically, in a few words, Aziraphale kissed Crowley and he discovered he was physically starving for him, longing for him, yearning for him, for his kiss, and he had no idea. Just like with the ox. And now he needs to gorge himself in him but he can't. Great amazing heartbreaking chef's kiss someone give MS an Emmy.

But there's already so much amazing meta out there about Aziraphale x Ox ribs x The Kiss that I want to focus on Crowley here, and on the music.

So back to the music. The song in "Before the Beginning" and the song that plays during The Kiss (I Forgive You + Don't Bother) are so similar. They're not *exactly* the same, but they're totally reminiscent of each other. The viewer is immediately reminded of those chords that played in the opening scene. It's no coincidence that the fandom was talking about this fact only minutes after first watching those final fifteen minutes. This is an obvious intentional choice for storytelling reasons (David Arnold is a genius).

I have no expertise whatsoever when it comes to music, so I asked our friend @otsanda to see if that made sense and not only it does and she explained it, but she also uncovered so much more hidden meaning in all of it (musicians are amazing), so check out her meta about the music that not only serves as evidence to what I'm proposing here but it also has so much more juicy information in it 💖.

Back to the point: WHY thought? Why choose a similar song? Why intentionally COMPOSE a similar song for that moment?

Hear me out. WHAT IF, by reminding the audience of the creation of the nebula, they meant to convey to us that, for Crowley, kissing Aziraphale gave him the same feeling that creating his stars did?

THAT'S what the music is telling us. THAT'S why it makes us remember "Before the Beginning". It may sound cheesy, but Crowley may have literally seen stars when he kissed Aziraphale. He couldn't react accordingly (just like Aziraphale couldn't), bc it was an overwhelming and extremely sad moment (the music is also telling us that) for both of them. They knew it was ending . They were both having a moment of huge revelation that was fated to not come to completion. Crowley was right, it was too late.

It makes sense to show Crowley's feelings through the music, bc he was the one who started the kiss, and also he was wearing sunglasses in that scene, it's different from a character like Aziraphale that has all his million expressions for everyone to see at all times. And they've been doing this ever since s1 with the Queen songs that play in his car or in the background.

So my point is: the same song being used there makes me wonder if kissing Aziraphale finally gave him what he lost. His purpose. What Aziraphale was trying to give back to him by taking him back to heaven. There's no need for Heaven. Just kiss him, Aziraphale, and there he'll find the stars you want to give back to him. There you will one day see that smile on his face you saw Before The Beginning. Neil Gaiman and David Arnold I am in your walls 😭

This is what may lead us to see this happiness in Crowley again (not the action of kissing itself, of course, but what it represents to their relationship, them being together, them being an Us).

As @otsanda said: from the music we can interpret that that moment was a Revelation for them. Almost a religious experience. Crowley found his purpose again. What he'd been missing the whole season (or even his whole life since the Fall, but we've seen him especially depressed this season).

I'm not even getting into the poetry of how one can interpret the parallel to the angel's reaction to the kiss as carnal, and the demon's as religious; that would be another whole essay but let's just agree that it's incredibly beautiful. (Let me be clear that I mean here Aziraphale's reaction is carnal specifically for Crowley, and Crowley's is religious specifically for Aziraphale, not religious as in "worshipping god")

"Do you ever wonder what's the point?" Crowley asked in s2e1. The point, for him, is Aziraphale (if you've seen The Good Place you know what I mean). I hope he figured this out with that kiss, even as heartbreaking as it was. Even if it was a (temporary) separation kiss. (I hope Aziraphale figures this out with time too, that he's more than enough to make Crowley happy, that Crowley doesn't need Heaven, or stars, that Crowley needs him.)

Maybe that's why Crowley didn't leave and kept waiting outside until the very last moment.

Aziraphale and Crowley both bit the apple at the end of s2. There's no turning back from that Knowledge now.

Edit: I just have to add here this brilliant colour analysis of the nebula scene by @halemerry. And it's pointed out that during the nebula formation there's a moment when it looks like two people embracing. And the fact that a similar song is used in the actual Kiss scene I just... I have no words

[aomiiine]

BOSS’S WIFE

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ ─── 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍!𝐑𝐀𝐍 w fem!reader who’s his boss’, Mikey’s, wife. warning(s) -> angst. nsfw. mdni. ran x reader + mikey x reader. infidelity obvly. a lil bit apathetic reader. dark themes(prostitution mention, drugs, murder). hints of lovesick ran. unrequited love from ran to reader. one-night stand vibes. near death experience. cheater!reader ig. alleged cheater!mikey. there’s some slowburn cs you’re stubborn. miscommunication between mikey and reader. endearments (darling, princess, etc.). car sex. praise. a lot of plot. i dont condone cheating whatsoever. not proofread. wc is 4.5k

author’s comment. mmyyeaahh so i def have a fav haitani now + urghhh not too happy w this BUT i liked exploring the idea

It was hours past midnight, the city cold and humid from recent rain that had stopped minutes ago. You sat beside your husband, Manjiro ‘Mikey’ Sano, on the couch of the isolated jazz club that he owned. He was talking business with some other yakuza men, something about delivery and drugs, perhaps a brief topic of prostitution exchange.

The unsettling environment wasn’t out of the ordinary for you anymore, not since you’ve known Mikey. You’ve stuck to him since middle school—more like he made you stick to him. But you never really made an effort to leave.

He satisfied you enough, your needs, emotionally and physically. Nothing made you feel better than the feeling of being needed, and your husband was the same. He needed an anchor, a reason to be. Coincidentally, you were willing to be both.

“You don’t have to stay here if you’re getting bored, baby. ‘Could always walk around the building or take a smoke outside. I’ll have someone guard you,” you heard your husband speak, snapping you out of your trance. Mikey held an arm around your shoulder, fingers rubbing up and down your arm comfortingly—the complete contrast of the look he had in his eyes. His dark depths gazing at you as if he couldn’t give a fuck if you lived or died the next few seconds. But Mikey never acted like that, of course. He was a great husband considering the lifestyle he led.

“Alright, I’ll do that then,” you nodded obediently, not finding the harm in accepting the given opportunity to leave the monotonous conversation. So you got up after leaving Mikey a quick kiss to his cheek, walking away from the table and walking over to the backdoor exit of the building.

As you did so, you walked past one of Mikey’s men, a familiar tall purple haired man. You recognised him from the corner of your eye, your peripheral vision doing you a favour by informing you who your guard for the night was. It wasn’t a surprise he followed you without having to be ordered, always doing such things involving you voluntarily.

“Shouldn’t stray too far from the building, darling,” you heard him call out to you, most likely, from behind as you stepped out into the window streets, road pretty empty save for the occasional passing cabs.

Your lips strained downward for a split second.

“You’ll be here to lead me back, Ran,” a breathy sigh left your lips, faint smoke leaving your lips from the cold. Your hands tugged on the white faux fur coat you had on, a vain attempt to keeping your tense torso warm. With a confident stride, you kept on walking ahead, paying no regard to the man who tagged behind you like it was his personal wish rather than a dull order from his boss.

“That doesn’t guarantee that I’ll lead you back healthy. You’ll definitely get a cold if you keep walking out here like this,” he retorted without much effort, his tone slight frustrated despite his matter-of-factly manner of answering you. It made your brow twitch, your lips pressed to a thin straight line.

You didn’t add another word to the exchange, letting it hang. Cars proceeded to drive past the road beside you, your legs bringing you further and further away from the jazz club you recently left. It was almost like you were running away. And you were almost determined to do so, though you long knew that was never an option anymore.

Ran noticed every change of your body language even though he only had the view of your back. The subtly tremble of your legs were enough to alarm him, narrowing his lilac eyes and fueling his resolve to keep an eye on you, not for his boss’s sake—for your sake.

Subtly splashes of water from the passing cars filled the atmosphere, faint engines and dim city building lights and with lamp lights setting the perfect atmosphere for you to envision your escape. Everything seemed so perfect, so staged, too good to be true. You were so focused on getting ahead, on heading away miles away from wherever Mikey was—until you were pulled out of it.

A sharp car screech filled the previously silent noise. Suddenly your ears were ringing, all the noise you cancelled out returning to you again. You turned your head, heels backtracking from shock. Ran’s hand held a nearly painful grip on your upper arm, pulling you back with reasinably strength.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? If that’s what it is then I got a gun with silencer on it for ya to use, for fuck’s sake!” Ran was practically yelling, his voice raised and his expression contorted to one of anger and worry. His brows were furrowed deeply, vein on his forehead and neck practically bulging as he pulled back a bit more before finally releasing you.

“W-what?” was all you could utter, blinking up at him with wide eyes, a bit dumbfounded about the situation.

“You almost got yourself run over by a car, what’s gotten into you? Ya need sleep, or something?” Ran seemed to answer your confusion without hesitation, the realisation that you almost died making you turn around and take in your surroundings.

Shit.

A sports car was practically swerved over to the sidewalk, thankfully not crashing into a post light. The driver drove off after yelling crazy bitch out his window. The insult made Ran grit his teeth, head tilted in further annoyance. You stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could do anything, stealing his attention quite quickly.

“I’m fine. Really. Just tired, like you said,” you muttered with a soft sigh after, lowering your head to gather yourself. All the while you had your lids closed shut, you felt a warm arm circle your shoulders.

“C’mon, let’s get you back,” he murmured, almost trying to comfort you. And in a way it did, he did—his warmth did. You followed him silently, letting him guide you back to the jazz club where Mikey was again.

While you were mostly silent throughout the walk, you eventually spoke up when you realised you were gonna have to face Mikey again. You felt a bit guilty for feeling like this, for wanting to avoid your own husband. But it wasn’t your fault you needed some space, some air to breath away from the heavy atmosphere and tension that was always there with him.

“I don’t wanna go back yet,” you objected, halting your steps abruptly.

Surprisingly, or not, Ran doesn’t scold you. Instead, he stops with you, arm never loosening around you. He merely looks down at you, taking in every detail on your expression at that moment and taking a moment to think about where he could possibly whisk you away to.

“Fine. My car. Then we head back, you hear me?” Ran conceded with a soft huff, centre of his brows still slightly creased from his frowning. He exhaled a quiet okay when you nodded in agreement, hand squeezing your upper arm gently to urge you to keep on walking.

It didn’t take too long for him to find your way to his car parked a few buildings away from the jazz club where Mikey was still in probably. Ran unlocked the car, opening the door of the backseat before gently nudging you in, following suit right after you.

Ran didn’t bother moving to start the engine, knowing the last thing you needed was the AC making you colder than you already were. Speaking of which, Ran couldn’t help but notice your shivering self that quivered against him, the sight of you leaning into him so desperately making him feeling a heavy pang of affection, worry, and a whole bundle of emotions he knew he shouldn’t have, things that he kept buried in the depths of his heart. And yet being in your presence for a few minutes was enough to unravel all of it, every dark detail of it.

“You’re actually chittering, princess,” he muttered, leaning down to press a chaste kiss onto the top of your head, a soft chuckle leaving his lips too in an effort to lighten the mood.

“And you’re actually annoying,” you refuted, voice small yet breathy as you shifted yourself on the leather seats, nuzzling under his arm and into his chest. Your arms were folded over your chest, holding your fur coat close to you. “Hmph, so mean,” you heard him whisper back, sarcasm lacing every syllable.

You more focused on warming yourself up at the moment, but that didn’t mean you didn’t notice how touchy and warm Ran was being. All the questions popped up in your mind about him, until you started questioning yourself, your own actions. You allowed him to do everything he did. You followed him back and forth, allowed him to bring you close to him, hell you even agreed to get in his car when you could’ve suggested some random alleyway to get a breather.

At some point, your shivering stopped. Your arms were wrapped around yourself, eyes staring mindlessly at his lap with your expression awfully neutral—the opposite of your mind that spiralled.

But a few breathers was all it took for you to forget. To dismiss everything. It wasn’t unlike Mikey had done the same anyway, entertaining other people like you were. For all you know, he’s probably done worse considering the amount of clubs he’s went to without you.

Now you’ve somewhat rationalised your actions, you lifted your head from Ran’s chest, tilting your head up to look at him. It seemed like he was staring at you already with how your gazes locked immediately.

“What is it, princess?” He broke the silence with that hoarse yet gentle voice of his, smiling faintly at you as if you were a stray cat he was trying to coax closer. As much as he loved staring into your beautiful eyes, he knew if he allowed to moment to stretch any longer his lips would end up pressed against yours—and just maybe more.

“Just wondering why you give a fuck about me in the first place.”

Ran could feel his smile fade from his face, his violet eyes no longer making an effort to look lighthearted for you. Those downturned eyes of his shifted to a stern gaze, almost determined.

If you thought your mind spiralled, his was a whole damn hurricane now.

“That’s an easy question. Though the answer’s probably something you don’t wanna know,” he answered cryptically, hand on your shoulder squeezing you once.

“You’d wish you never knew,” you heard him add, voice low yet barely above a whisper. You felt your breath hitch in throat, eyes fixated on him still. You felt your mouth dry up and closed your lips, brows furrowing slight as you turned away from him.

“I want to know. I don’t care about some creepy consequence you’re so worried about, Ran. All I’m asking about is why you act so nice w—,” you were stopped between your rant, your attempt to persuade him to be honest with you backfiring.

In a blink of an eye, he had his hand push you back against the seat, lips parted from his persistent tongue. You mumbled something but the kiss muffled your words, previously widened eyes now turning half-lidded from his warmth and shortness of breath.

“R-Ran, get a hold of yourself,” you panted once he broke the kiss, your hands reaching up to his chest and shoulder, failing to push him off of you. He kept you corner between the small space of him and the backrest behind you, face inches away from yours still.

You caught your breath, hands pushing him growing weaker until you decided to let up. Your eyes flickered from your lap up to his face, the resolve in his gaze unwavering.

“What does this mean?” You whispered, quizzically looking at him. The confusion on you towards his actions almost made Ran smile, but all he could manage was a faint laugh.

“Means that I love you.”

The crease between your brows deepened at his confession.

You weren’t exactly pleased per se, but it did make sense. It made a lot of sense. Made his demeanour towards you logical.

You suspected his feelings for you before, though you never entertained the thought. Ran was busy beyond words being Mikey’s executive, and you on the other hand were married. Yet it seems like that didn’t seem to bother Ran much.

“How exactly am I supposed to respond to that, Ran?” You sighed, almost pleading, beautiful orbs of yours falling to your lap once more.

“That’s the thing. You don’t.”

Huh?

Before you could open your mouth, he sealed your lips in another kiss, needier this time. He wanted to shut you up, to take your mind off things—everything. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working.

How could you possibly think about anything else when Ran had a hand on your thigh, running up the thin pantyhose you wore under that dark red leather miniskirt. The force of his greedy kisses made you slump up the plush seat behind you, making you lean over to the side until your back was against the window of the car door. Ran had another hand on your waist, skimming under your coat to cup the flesh your side.

“You don’t have to say a word—I don’t want an answer from you. Just want you, baby,” the man grunted into your mouth, tongue swiping against yours and teeth tugging on your lower lip. His breath was as heavy, much like yours.

It was hard for you not to reciprocate his kisses, his touch, not when he had you cornered with little to no space to move or focus on anything but him. And that was exactly what he wanted—your undivided attention, even if it was just for the moment.

Ran was tired of just admiring you from afar, exhausted from having to settle with the women that kept throwing themselves at him in the clubs he went to after work.

What he hated most was having to imagine you and your stunning figure beneath him whenever he was fucking those girls, having to wish he could see you every day after work like his boss could. Ran wanted the real thing so badly, he fucking craved it. But he hid those desires so well that it would leave anyone in Bonten in shock if they knew he had the fattest, more ridiculous crush on you.

Like a student to his teacher. It was humiliating, yet so fucking thrilling. And that was just it with Ran. Nothing had him more addicted to something other than the excitement.

So while Ran had his hands all over you, lips kissing you everywhere, he made sure to savour it. To take his time suckling on your red tongue, nibbling and marking on your swollen bottom lips that he had damp with saliva. Ran had to make sure you enjoyed it too—‘cause fuck if you didn’t want him as much he wanted you—

“Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart,” he whispered through bated breath, shifting himself and grabbing one of your legs to lift on the car seat, wanting to be between your legs.

His demands were almost impossible to deny anymore. He’s made your mind hazy from the lewd, sloppy kisses he’s given you. The cold air only made it worse since it only made you crave warmth more than you should—his warmth.

“Good girl, that’s it,” you heard him praise you, his slender fingers running over the waistband of your leather skirt, unfastening the metal button and pulling down the zip. His violet eyes were sickeningly fixated on your lower-half, as if in anticipation to see your most intimate parts—more like anticipating what kind of panties you were wearing, what kind of lingerie you preferred.

You whined softly, still unsure what he was praising you for exactly. Was it for your cooperation? If so then he’ll have to keep on praising you for the next few minutes ‘cause you’d seriously consider acting up if he stopped. What kind of woman were you if you asked him to stop now? Sure, a woman with a moral compass. However, such a thing was discarded by you the first few seconds you entered his car.

Married or not, you didn’t know if there was any kind of woman out there that would resist Ran when he was like this—so attentive, so careful with touching you but gazing at you with predatory-like eyes. You almost felt naked under him even when you weren’t. It was like he saw all of you, inside and out.

And that was when you were beginning to truly be naked under him. Decisive fingers peeling off your leather miniskirt, then hooking under the waistband of your pantyhose to pull it down to your knees.

“Do you trust me?” The question threw you off for a moment, watching him move to sit on his knees on the carseat horizontally and carrying your legs over his shoulders, nearly folding you against the small corner he drove you in.

Your head was practically forced up against the window, back bent forward and legs held by Ran. Your lips quivered subtly, the discomfort adding to your anxiousness. Yet that question of his seemed to stem from that exactly.

With a meek nod, you mumbled a soft yes to assure him. Not a second later he slid his hand down your lifted thighs, rubbing and gently squeezing the inner flesh, cold fingers dangerously close to the apex of your legs. You followed his every move as best as you could, swallowing the lump of nervousness in your throat.

It was almost tantalising, the way he navigated his way down and up your body with such ease, such adoration. If you looked closely enough, you could have seen the gleams of mesmerisation in his violet eyes. And holy fuck, did that turn you on even more, thighs twitching close together with the wet patch on your panties growing bigger.

You could feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of Ran’s lips curling to a smirk. He clearly noticed your arousal, especially so with the view he had of you from that position.

“Ah-ah.. you don’t get to be shy,” Ran warned, hand gripping your thigh tighter to peel them away from each other when you subconsciously started to cross them to hide yourself.

“I’ve been so long for this, darling. So fuckin’ long,” he breathed, impatience evident in the way his gaze alternated between your heaving chest and your fat folds covered by the thing fabric of your panties. Without wasting a moment more, he moved a hand down to your pussy, slipping the long index between your folds, middle finger joining to find your clit with ease, rubbing the sensitive nub up and down in slow motions. You gasped sharply at the sudden pleasure, legs on his shoulders quaking from the stimulation alone.

“So damn soaked for me, baby. Did ya wait for me too?” He cooed, shifting the focus of his slender fingers to your aching slit, gently digging inside through your panties to give you a taste of what was to come.

The soft moans from you was enough to spur him on, half-heartedly fucking you with his fingers through the clothes. It reached a point where the tip of his fingers were soaked in your nectar, all sticky and lubed up to fuck you for real.

Low groans rumbled in his chest with every move he made on your cunt, dipping down your panties until he could feel your walls flutter around with need.

“Need me to fuck you, don’t you darling? Need me balls deep inside you,” you heard him grunt, fingers probing your wet pussy until he wasn’t. He withdrew his fingers, hand moving to his belt instead, unbuckling it to unbutton and unzip his pants with ease.

Ran found it adorable how engrossed you were in the scene of him tugging his pants and boxers downwards to pull out his cock, already hard and throbbing for you.

Bending down to you, Ran had your legs pushed up not from your chest, threatening to squash your tits for the soft jiggle effect he’d drool over.

“Gonna have to relax a bit more, darlin’. I gotta fuck you in the best angle,” he drawled, fastening your legs to his neck and snug on his shoulders. His cologne was borderline intoxicating, the intense scent inducing your lightheadedness.

“‘M not that flexible,” you grumbled, trying to relax your limbs like he said regardless. When you did, he folded your limbs further, adding a little bit of force to reach his desired position. “There ya go, angel,” he murmured just for your ears, earning himself a soft whimper from you.

Not a second later, Ran aligned his cock right up your entrance, the head leaking beads of precum smearing up your folds, pushing his hips forward until he slid up past your entrance. He had you reach up to cling onto his suit jacket, clenching your fingers around his arms while he dug his dick into your depths to the hilt, breath stuck in his throat as if you were choking his throat instead of his cock.

“Holy fuck—feels so fuckin’ good, you feel so good,” he crooned, staying still for a while to let you adjust to the intrusion before he started moving again, pacing it slow at first and subtly progressing to frenzied tempo, hips rocking uncontrollably.

Your lips hung open, eyes darting from Ran’s face to the mess that was your squelching cunt, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass filling the car along with.

“Ran—! Want you cum, cum for me,” you whine, heart hammering in your chest in sync with the seconds he drove his pulsating cock in and out of your gummy walls, the hold he had on your thighs turning desperate as he chased his orgasm, and yours. “Careful what you—fuck-wish for,” Ran stuttered, his arousal amplified with your constant moans and begging, the cramped space thickening the air and tension around your sweat sheened bodies.

“Cum for me, darling—fuck-ngh, cum with me,” he groaned with heavy pants, jaw clenched at the slick feeling of your juices dripped down his shaft to his tense balls, feeling it tighten along with the knot in his lower belly. A few short, frenzied thrusts was all it took for him to finally come undone along with you, your sopping wet pussy clamping down on his heavy cock triggering his orgasm.

Your features scrunched up in pleasure along with Ran, your legs quaking around his shoulders and your toes curled from the feeling of his semen spilling inside you in thick ropes. Ran stayed inside you even after your orgasm, basking in the afterglow with shared breaths and groans.

“I.. hate you,” was all you could breath out at the moment, eyes fluttering and threatening to close with your head rested on the mirror of the car door. Slowly, Ran withdrew his cock from your well-filled cunt, leaving a string of your mixed juices that soon broke to stain your inner thigh.

“Can’t say the same for you, princess..,” Ran chuckled half-heartedly, pulling away and shrugging your legs off his shoulders to lay carelessly on the carseat as he grabbed a tissue to wipe the mess on lingering on your skin.

Your eyes followed the movement of Ran’s hand, watching him clean you up so carefully unlike the roughness he had when he was fucking you earlier. Didn’t even need to glance at your thighs, you knew there were red welts everywhere on them from how much he was clawing onto your flesh desperately.

Silence filled the car for a moment, unspoken words kept deep within yourself as he helped dress you up again, sitting you up properly on the seat and asking if he went too rough on you anywhere.

It wasn’t like he was doting you either. Not too much anyway. He gave you space as much as he gave you his concern, probably aware he crossed some lines that he shouldn’t have. Despite that, Ran being Ran, he wasn’t ashamed, nor did he feel guilty for any of it.

“You know he’ll kill you, right?” your hoarse voice whispered to break the silence, illuminated only by the dim street lights around you.

“Only if he knows.”

“He’s definitely gonna fucking know.”

“He won’t really kill me,” Ran shrugged, stuffing a hand into his pocket to take out a packet of cigarettes, wanting to light one up to take a smoke as if none of it bothered him. And in a way, it really didn’t.

“Ran,” you warned, furrowing your brows and glaring at him in a sideway glance. Your arms folded on chest, head leaning back against the headrest as you turned away and sighed.

“Doesn’t matter. I got the fuck the love of my life—so if he kills me, I’m gonna die with a fucking smile, you hear me?” Ran spoke, his tone of voice clearly set as if he made up his mind when he turned to you, lit up cigarette held between the fingers of his right hand.

“Besides. You sure as hell enjoyed it, hm? Bet you haven’t had an orgasm like that in a while, have you?” he added, hints of teasing lacing his voice with his free hand reaching out to cup your face.

That playful mood of his was short lived when he felt you lean into his hand, eyes fluttering shut. He felt his heart being tugged on.

“You poor thing,” was all you heard him whisper lowly a moment after his lighthearted remark, hand on your cheek moving to the back of your head to pull you into him.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A click echoed in the room and the beeping stopped.

“We got this from the bug we planted in executive Ran’s car, sir.”

A pathetic scoff left Mikey’s lips, his lips curling to a faint smirk before it faded to a straight line again.

The white haired man stared at the voice recording the device laid on the table by one of his men, hands curling to fists as he tried to quell the urge to destroy it—to destroy something.

Except he didn’t. Patience. That was what you taught him.

You taught him patience like it was the best thing in the world, calmness, since he always killed people on sight without hesitation. Mikey tried, for your sake. He worked on more negotiations rather than ordering his executives to go on murder sprees, and one of those negotiations happened tonight at the jazz club.

He thought maybe by now, that he’s got the hang of it. But Mikey doesn’t know if ‘patience’ was good anymore. How was it as ‘good’ as you said, when because of patience, he lost you.

Mikey waited, and waited, and waited for his chance to get closer to you. To open up to you more than the surface level relationship you two had. He wanted to be a real husband to you, to be your lover.

Maybe calmness wasn’t something he should practice anymore. Since you succumbed so easily to what Ran forced on you.

Well, at least you knew he’ll kill Ran.

[r0manceplanet]

i have one request. taph x reader idc what u do as long as its fluff please us taph likers are actually drying out like the sahara desert 😭😭

Taph General Headcanons

A/N: Omg how I ran FAST just to start writing this— and you are so right, taph needs more content (coming from a taph main, me lol), and i am here to feed more taph content, feel free to send me more taph requests ngl.

NOTE: this can be seen as romantic or platonic, and as usual the reader remains gender neutral unless stated otherwise.

• Being with him, whether it’s together as friends or partners, no matter what kind of relationship you have with him he’ll always find ways to prank you using his tools.

• He also seems to come up with very… clever ideas on how to catch the killer using his bombs and trip-lines (whatever those are called)… he’s made c00lkidd cry far too many times because of the bombs he keeps throwing at him (save the killers atp).

• He views you like how he views builderman, and as we all know he calls himself “buildermans right hand man” because he’s usually on standby with him, but because he’s parasocial that doesn’t really exist. But with you, he’s always standing next to you and helping you with whatever you need, it’s his way of showing his gratitude towards you.

• He can’t talk at all, so he uses sign language to communicate instead, and even if you don’t know sign language you’ll be able to quickly understand after getting to know he basics of it, and if you don’t understand it (still) I would head-canon that he carries a tiny notebook and pen around him to write as a way to communicate better.

• He’s a cocky little shit ngl, everytime he pranks you or teases you, you can clearly see under his hoodie that little, michevious smirk and continues to go on until you stop him, I also think he would enjoy carrying you skeins sometimes for fun, like bridle style or piggy back and run while doing so, and maybe pretend to fall just to startle you.

• For some random reason (this may be ooc idk) but he LOVES to hold you close and put his cloak around the both of you, I don’t know exactly the reason why he does it but I feel like it’s because he enjoys the feeling of having someone close be so close to him, and he loves to lay his head down on your shoulder and fall asleep if you both are sitting on the couch or laying on the bed together.

• I feel like the hoodie he wears was worn way to many times now, and he doesn’t wash it (and I’m guessing he can’t because of the situation he’s in) so I feel like, if you can sew, you can make him new hoodies in different colors and styles to see how they look on him, and he wouldn’t mind you putting on a few accessories on him, but DO NOT put any makeup or skin care products on his face, he doesn’t like the feeling of it (I would just force him if it’s necessary ngl).

• He would purposely use you as bait to the killers so they can fall into his traps, and then save you after, he likes saving you, especially if you lecture him afterwards lol he doesn’t give any craps whatsoever. And just to add on but, without you knowing he stalks you when he’s not around you, and he makes sure not to get caught by you, even if your friends he would definitely have this little crush on you, and even after your dating he still does this, but he just needs to make sure your being protected by him at all costs! Even if he’s not around…

• I also feel like he enjoys dancing to music, it can be hiphop, slow dancing, kpop, and he’ll DO IT. He would be a super talented dancer, and loves doing little dances whenever he traps one of the killers with his shenanigans. (He stans girl groups, tell me I’m wrong).

[daydreamgoddess14]

Backseat Driver pt. 2

Summary: Bucky Barnes is reluctantly running for Congress with the financial and political backing of Pepper Potts. Everything is under control until she assigns him a driver. A very chatty, overly enthusiastic, playlist-addicted driver who seems determined to worm her way past his hundred-yard emotional perimeter. He hates the arrangement. Until he really doesn’t.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Part 1 here

Word Count: Here's the remaining 11k I wasn't allowed to put into yesterday's post 🤭 I thought I'd split it pretty equally... turns out I did not. I was very stressed.

Warnings/Tags/Info: No use of y/n, l/n, reader is described as female. I have literally no idea whatsoever the process involved in running for Congress or being a Congressperson. Expect grumpy!Bucky, sunshine!Reader, fluff, Sam being the most glorious human ever, Pepper Potts continuing to be a badass.... And in this chapter, you can also expect smut, car sex, unprotected p-in-v, oral (f receiving), some angsty emotions, Enjoy! 🩷

Main Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

She drove more slowly than usual. 

The rain had set in, drumming lightly on the windshield. The music was low, something softer than usual. The display tells him it's Taylor Swift. She was, as usual, singing along, but this time the melancholy, low tones suited her far better.

He’d surprised her when he slid in beside her in the front. 

“Change of scenery?” she teased, trying to keep it light.

He glanced over at her. She seemed more relaxed than she had a few hours previously. 

“It’s quieter up here.”

She knew that wasn’t true. 

“Where'd you go? Home?” He asked. 

“Gym, swim, sauna, food.”

“Sounds good.”

“It was.”

They sat quietly for a while. He broke the silence first.

“Do you ever get tired of being so loud?”

She laughed, caught off guard. “Wow. Rude.”

“Just a question.”

“Maybe I like being loud. Maybe it stops people from looking too closely.”

That surprised him. His eyes cut to hers, studying her face in the dim glow of the dash lights.

“And do you ever get tired of being so... guarded?”

He didn’t answer. Not right away. 

“...All the time.”

“You’re not what I expected.”

“Neither are you.”

They stopped at a red light, the Range Rover humming softly beneath them. She looked over, sensing him watching her. He turned to look at the road ahead. 

A thoughtful silence stretched again as they drove. “Can I ask you something?”

He didn’t look at her, but she felt his attention tuning to her completely.

“Sure.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

She glanced over. “The Congress thing. Doesn’t exactly scream Bucky Barnes.”

He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “You think I’m not cut out for politics?”

She arched a brow. “I think you look like you’d rather punch a senator than have lunch with one.”

He rolled his jaw, eyes drifting out the window. 

He could still see Pepper’s face that day, unreadable. Her voice was calm and persuasive.  

“You want to fix things? Use the system. Rewrite the rules. Make it harder for people like you to be made in the first place.”

He hadn’t wanted to. But Pepper had always had a way of making refusal sound like cowardice.

He remembered folding his arms and saying, I’m not a politician.

And she’d smiled. Exactly. That’s why you’ll win.

I don't think Tony would like this. He'd tried to tell her. 

Bullshit. She told him. 

Sam had laughed. And then very quickly taken Pepper’s side. 

Now here he was, sitting in a $250,000 SUV with a girl who sang off-key and drove like she was dodging sniper fire… and for some reason, he wasn’t running.

“I'm trying to fix things,” he told her simply. 

She pulled up to his house and he reached for the door handle but didn’t open it right away. She was still watching the road ahead, one hand on the wheel, fingers drumming lightly.

“Hey,” he said.

She turned her head toward him, brows raised.

“Thanks,” he added. “For… tonight. The ride. The tie. Everything.”

She smiled softly. “Anytime.”

He stepped out into the teeming rain, well aware of the effect it would be having on the designer suit. 

“Hey, Bucky?”

“Yeah?” He ducked his head to look through the open door. 

Her voice dropped just a bit. “You should know… when you’re all dressed up like that?”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

“You’re impossible not to look at.”

He froze, the rain dripping into his collar and down his neck.

She didn’t wait for a response. Just shifted the car into gear and gave him a quick, shy smile.

“Sleep well, Congressman.”

And then she was gone, he just about had time to shut the door. Her tail lights glowed red as she disappeared down the street. He stood on the sidewalk for a full minute before he even remembered to breathe.

And when he finally made it inside, jacket flung over the back of a chair to dry out, tie still crooked, he didn’t move for a while.

Just sat there.

Thinking about her hands on his collar. Her voice in his ear. And the way her eyes had lingered just a second too long.

Damn Pepper Potts-Stark.

The apartment was too quiet. He’d showered and tried to unwind, but nothing worked. The water hadn't helped. The scotch hadn’t helped. He was still wired.

Her voice played on a loop in his head.

You’re impossible not to look at.

It wasn’t just the words. It was the way she said them. Like she hadn’t meant to, like it slipped out before she could catch it. Like it surprised her too.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. This was bad. This was really fucking bad. Because it wasn’t just tonight. It hadn’t been just one moment, or one look. It had been building. Quietly, steadily sneaking up on him. 

Every damn morning she greeted him with a too-bright smile. Every time she reached over to adjust the stereo. Every time her laugh echoed through the car and set something deep inside him shaking.

And tonight, when her hands had touched his throat, he hadn’t flinched. He’d wanted it.

Worse than that, he still wanted it. Wanted her.

Her mouth. Her fingers. Her laugh. 

The crease between her brows when she was annoyed at him. The way she twisted her rings when she was nervous.

His head tipped back against the cushions. Eyes closed. His hand drifted lower before he even made the decision. There was no decision, really, just a need he couldn’t ignore. A tension in his bones that had nowhere else to go. His mind spun with images he’d barely let himself imagine before now. 

Her, pressed close, straddling him - in the car of all places. Lips parted, breath catching, sighing his name as he filled her up. 

And here, in his home, crossing the room with a smile and asking need a hand, Congressman? 

Wrapping her pretty mouth around his pulsing cock. 

His hips jerked up to meet his hand with no finesse or control. Pure desperation. He let himself fall apart quietly. Thoughtlessly. As if he could exorcise her from his system.

He couldn’t.

When it was over, he sat in the dark, his chest still rising and falling too fast. Shame prickled hot under his skin, rising behind his ears like a flush he couldn’t cool. What the hell was he doing?

She was young. Vibrant. Light-years out of his reach.

And he was… this. A broken man playing politics, jerking off to the thought of the only person who treated him like he wasn’t one.

The guilt came fast. He didn’t deserve her kindness. Didn’t deserve the way she smiled at him. Didn’t deserve a damn thing about her.

~~~~

The next morning, he was a different person.

The second he saw her standing by the car, his shame from the previous night came flooding back. She was sipping from a takeaway cup, squinting up at the sky. 

Wind tugged at the hem of her coat, hair pulled back loosely, a few strands caught in her lip balm. Just looking at her made something clench in his chest. She smiled when she saw him. Not overly warm. Just normal. Like nothing had changed.

He hated it.

“Morning,” she said, holding the door open for him.

He muttered something back, he wasn’t even sure what exactly. He didn’t meet her eye. Just slid into the back seat like usual.

She glanced at him in the rearview mirror once as she pulled into traffic, then again when he didn’t offer anything else. Her fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel. She didn’t press, but he could feel how aware she was of whatever this was. 

He’d built the wall the second he woke up. Because last night had been a mistake. 

All of it. The closeness, the look in her eyes. 

The fact that he’d gone inside and couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d thought about it too long. Let it spiral. And now he was punishing himself for it the only way he knew how.

Silence. Coldness. Distance.

She didn’t deserve it. But he didn’t trust himself to speak.

“What’s on today?” she asked eventually, voice light, breezy.

He shrugged. “Nothing interesting.”

He was meeting Sam. 

“Oh. Ok.” She tapped along to the beat of the music. “Want coffee?”

“Already had one.” Lie. He hadn’t.

Another pause. He could feel the tension stretching, tightening, her posture shifting subtly in her seat.

“I, uh… saw the pictures from last night,” she offered, trying again. “Suit looked good. Great bow tie”

He didn’t answer. Just stared out the window.

“Ok. Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. You know that scowl is deeply presidential,” she sniggered. 

Nothing. 

The silence returned, he could feel the disappointment rolling off her. That little fold between her brows had crept in. He could see her trying to work out if she’d done something wrong, and he couldn’t seem to tell her she hadn’t.

She pursed her lips and sighed. Then she reached for the volume dial and built her own wall. 

She was listening to his playlist. She skipped through a few of his chosen tracks and settled on one of her own favourites. 

“When I hold you baby,” she sang loudly, fiercely. 

“Feel your heartbeat close to me

Wanna stay in your arms forever

Only love can set you free…”

She had to be joking. He wanted to say something. That it wasn’t her. That it was him, drowning in everything he didn’t know how to feel. But the words locked up in his throat.

“When we touch each other

In a state of ecstasy

Want this night to last forever

Only love can set you free

Set you free

Set you free”

She sang without inhibition - poorly - but he could see the tension leaving her shoulders the more the tempo increased.

He sat silent and miserable, watching the city blur past the glass, wishing he didn’t want her, and hating himself for not being able to stop.

She turned the volume down, marginally, as they pulled up, the engine softening into idle. She didn’t speak right away, and he didn’t offer anything either.

“Alright,” she said finally, still slightly breathless. “I think this is you.”

He nodded once, already reaching for the handle.

“This one due to go on all day? Finish at six?”

“Yeah,” he said shortly.

“Right.” She didn’t say anything else. No teasing, no warmth. Just quiet acceptance.

He hated it.

He stepped out, not looking back, and nearly walked straight into Sam.

“Oh hey, man!” Sam grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “You look like shit. Everything ok?” He trailed off, glancing over Bucky’s shoulder to the driver’s seat. “Is that her?”

“Didn't think you'd be here yet,” he grimaced. He didn't acknowledge Sam's questions. 

Sam stepped around Bucky entirely and leaned toward the window, tapping it once with a smile.

She rolled it down.

“Hi,” Sam said, extending a hand. “Sam Wilson. Good to meet you at last. I've heard a lot about you.”

Her brow lifted, but she smiled as she shook his hand. “That surprises me. I think he likes to forget I exist unless he's forced into this car. I've heard a lot about you, too.”

“All lies,” Sam said. “Well. Most of them.”

She laughed softly, and Bucky hated how much lighter her voice sounded with him.

“I should get going,” she said, pulling her hand back. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

“You too. Thanks for keeping him in one piece.”

She gave Bucky a quick disappointed glance and rolled the window back up. The Rover pulled away a second later, merging into traffic with practiced ease.

Sam waited until she was gone. Then turned back, arms crossed.

“You’re an asshole,” he said cheerfully.

“Don’t.”

“You didn’t even introduce her?”

Bucky started walking. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“Too late. We’re already doing it. That girl looked like she’d just been drop-kicked in the ribs. What'd you do to her?”

Bucky didn’t answer.

Sam followed close behind, not relenting. “You like her.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Liar.”

Bucky stopped just short of the lobby doors, jaw tight. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do, actually. You forget, we're friends now. You like her, you want her, and now you’re being cold because you think pushing her away will fix it.”

He didn’t respond.

“This is exactly why you need to accept that I'm here for you,” Sam leaned in again, voice lower. “Don’t wait until it’s too late to walk it back, man.”

Then he stepped inside, leaving Bucky standing there.

He didn’t follow right away. Because maybe Sam was right. And that scared the hell out of him.

~~~~

She was quiet for the first few blocks, eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel.

Bucky stared out the window, jaw tight. He hadn’t said a word since he slid into the backseat. Again. Walls back up.

“You’ve been weird all week,” she said finally, voice flat.

He didn’t respond.

“Seriously, what’s your deal? One minute you’re making playlists, the next you’re acting like I don’t exist.”

He exhaled hard through his nose. “Drop it.”

“No.”

That surprised him. He leaned forward slightly. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t get to go all silent treatment for a whole week just because you’re in a mood,” she snapped, not looking at him. “If you’re mad at me, fine, say it. But don’t make me guess.”

He shifted, annoyed now. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then what?”

He hesitated too long.

“That’s what I thought,” she muttered.

“You ever think maybe it’s not about you?” He said, his voice sharper than he meant. “Maybe I’ve got other things going on.”

She scoffed, glancing at him in the rearview. 

“Fine,” she said, turning onto the final street. “You want space? You got it.”

Neither of them spoke again before they arrived.

~~~~

The low murmur of conversation was starting to fray his nerves. Too many smiles. Too much wine. Too much her.

It wasn’t a formal event, just a small thing mainly made up of staffers, friends, campaign types, but still, everyone was dressed to impress. And she was there as a guest as well as his driver. Part of the dream team about to secure his victory. 

She looked good. Too good. 

It was the first time he'd seen her in a dress and it caught the light and her curves in a way that made his hands curl into fists in his pockets. 

She wasn’t avoiding him exactly, but she wasn’t looking at him either. And it made him feel like shit.

He didn’t say goodbye to anyone. Just slipped out the side exit with a muttered excuse to the nearest staffer, and made his way to the car. 

The streetlights buzzed gently overhead, casting a dull glow across the SUV. He slid into the backseat, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared straight ahead.

Five minutes passed.

Ten.

Then the driver’s door opened, and he didn’t have to look up to know it was her.

“Hey,” she said softly, as the door shut behind her. “You just... left.”

“I’m here,” he muttered. 

“I noticed.”

Then she sighed. “This is stupid.”

She twisted in her seat and kicked off her heels, dropping them onto the passenger seat next to her bag with a quiet thud. 

Her next move was clumsy as she clambered between the seats into the back. The hem of her dress caught briefly, and as she bent forward, he caught the slope of her breasts, the curve of soft skin as it was claimed by the neckline of her dress. No bra.

He looked away fast.

She huffed as she landed beside him, tugging her dress down and brushing her hair from her face. “Can I sit?”

“You’re already here.”

She sighed again, a little annoyed. “Don’t be an asshole.”

That finally pulled his eyes to hers.

She was close.

Close enough that he could smell her perfume, something different for the evening than she usually wore, but still familiar. 

Close enough to see the faint smudge of eyeliner under her lashes. She didn’t look like his driver right now. She didn’t look like anything safe.

He swallowed hard. “You look -”

“What happened?” she interrupted, her voice more vulnerable than he expected. “We were... ok. I thought. You were tolerating me.”

He shook his head slowly, jaw working. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He said, finally. 

“Then why are you being like this?”

Because I can't stop thinking about kissing you. Because I touched myself thinking about you and woke up wanting to do it again. And have wanted it ever since. Because you’re too close and I’m fucking terrified.

He didn’t say any of that. “I don’t know.”

She looked at him for a long time. “That’s not good enough.”

“I know.”

Another silence. Then she reached for the door.

But before she could open it, he caught her wrist gently. Not hard. Just enough to make her pause.

“Don’t go,” he said, his voice low.

Her hand stilled on the door handle, but she didn't look back. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t either,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. For the last few days. For pulling away. For making you feel like you were… like you’re not important.”

She turned warily.

“I didn’t mean to shut you out,” he said. “I panicked. I’m not sure I'll ever be used to people giving a shit about me. Or finding people I actually give a shit about. ”

Her breath caught, just barely but he noticed. Of course he did.

“I keep thinking about you. About the way you look at me like I'm allowed to be myself.” He hesitated. “And when I’m not with you, I miss you. And when I am, I can’t think straight.”

She blinked, and he could see the pulse in her throat jump.

“I'm not exactly sure what I’m trying to say, I’m -” 

But she was already moving.

She surged forward, caught his face in her hands, and kissed him. No hesitation, no warning, just fire and hunger and weeks of unspoken longing poured into one desperate kiss.

He groaned against her mouth, hands gripping her waist. She climbed into his lap without thinking, knees bracketing his thighs, and threaded her fingers through his hair. 

He pulled her in tighter, his vibranium arm wrapping firmly around her waist, the other sliding up her bare thigh, pushing the fabric out of the way, needing to feel her skin under his palm.

“Tell me to stop,” he said roughly, mouth brushing the corner of hers. “If you don’t want this -”

“I do,” she whispered. “I really do.”

That was all he needed. His mouth was on her throat, kissing a trail down to her collarbone while she rolled her hips down to meet his. 

“God,” he breathed. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not tonight,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his jaw, his neck, the scar that peeked from under his shirt.

He dragged her deeper into his lap, his hands moving to open the deep V neckline wider, stretching it down her arms and exposing more of her soft skin to him. 

She arched her back, offering herself up to him and he took it. Cupping the swell of her breast in one hand, his thumb brushed over the tight peak until she shivered against him.

His mouth followed, dragging slow, open kisses down the column of her throat until she rocked against him. 

He could feel the heat of her core, could feel himself hard against her. She shifted against him in search of friction and he hissed through his teeth.

He sank his teeth into the underside of her breast, making her whine and press her knees deeper into the seat behind him. 

“God, Bucky,” she shuddered. 

He groaned at the sound of his name on her lips, rough and reverent. His hands slid down to her hips, guiding her over the hard length of him again, slow and deliberate.

“You feel that?” he rasped, his voice low against her skin. “That’s what you do to me.”

He didn't wait for a response, she gasped when his tongue circled her pebbled nipple.

“Please, please -” she murmured.

He slid his hand between them to push the thin lace of her underwear aside. She moaned as his fingers found her, already soaked, already ready.

“You were gonna walk away,” he said, low and rough, mouth brushing her ear. “You were gonna leave me in this car thinking about this all night.”

She tugged his hair and moved back just slightly. 

“C'mon, you had no idea I've been this wet for you every day since we met,” she teased. 

His eyes darkened at her words, jaw tightening as he dragged two fingers slowly through her slick heat. “Jesus,” he breathed.

She grinned smugly until he slid a finger inside, slow but deliberate, making her stutter on a breath and grip his shoulder tighter.

“Not so chatty now, huh?” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then lower.

He added another finger, curling just right, and her head dropped to his shoulder with a strangled whimper. The sound went straight through him.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he said, voice thick, “every night. Every time you smiled at me. Every time you drove away.”

She reached between them, unfastening his belt with deft fingers. The sound of the buckle, the zip, he thought he might lose his mind before she even touched him. She grazed her thumb over the tip of him, his fingers inside her stuttering momentarily. 

“What if someone comes past?” He breathed against her collarbone. 

“Oh, now you're scared of that?” She laughed quietly, her hand encircling him and pumping slowly. 

“Yeah, well,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as her hand worked him, deliberately slowly. “Feels different now that your hand’s on me.”

She bit her lip, breath catching as his fingers resumed their rhythm. Her hips moved with him, chasing every stroke. 

“You started this,” she whispered, her voice thick as he hit just the right spot. “The other week with that stupid bow tie. Making me a fucking playlist.”

His laugh was broken, shaky. 

“You climbed in my lap, sweetheart.”

“You let me.”

His mouth found hers again, messy and desperate. When he broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I need to be inside you.”

She nodded and in the dim light, he could see a flash of nerves in her eye. She exhaled shakily as he withdrew his hand and moved it to her hip. 

Without taking her hand from him, she rose up onto her knees and guided him into place. 

She sank onto him slowly.

“Fuck,” he sighed. “You feel incredible.”

He watched her hold her breath as she sank down, her body stretching to accommodate him. 

She bit her lip, trying to keep herself steady as he filled her. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her as she moved, inch by inch, until she was fully seated on him.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled, his voice rough as he tried to hold back, every instinct screaming for movement. 

Her head tipped back slightly, the pleasure clear on her face, and the sight of it nearly drove him insane. She moved, slowly at first, the friction sending a shiver through both of them.

“Bucky,” she moaned. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he rasped. His hand slid up her back, fingers digging into her skin as her pace increased, rising and falling on him over and over. 

He met her thrusts, pushing up to meet her, every drag of her body against his, every breath, every whisper of his name made him feel like he was losing control.

His hands slid to her ass, pulling her down harder against him, meeting her every movement with his own.

The heat between them was unbearable, Bucky could feel it building, the pressure in his chest, his pulse racing as she clenched around him, and he knew she was close. Her name fell from his lips in a broken breath, again and again, like a prayer. 

She kissed his throat, his mouth, his cheekbone. He could feel her shaking around him, her breath stuttering.

“Look at me,” he said. “C’mon, sweetheart, I wanna see you come for me,” he demanded, his voice hoarse, barely controlled as he watched her struggle to hold on.

She cried out, her body tightening as she finally unraveled around him, her movements jerky and frantic as she came, her head falling against his shoulder. 

Bucky’s grip tightened on her, pulling her flush against him as he followed, every muscle in his body tightening as he reached his own release.

They stayed like that for a moment, both of them breathless, lost in the aftermath of what had just happened. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, still reeling from how quickly their situation had escalated. 

“Shit,” he heard her whisper. She pulled away from him, her eyes wide and panicked. 

“What’s wrong?” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. His voice was rough, unsure. She wouldn’t even look at him, and it was killing him.

“I -” She cut herself off, her voice small. “I can’t do this.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she was already shaking her head, moving further away from him, almost like she was trying to distance herself from everything that had just happened between them.

She slipped off his lap, trying to straighten the skirt of her dress and pull the neckline back into place. 

“I didn’t think it’d go this far,” she muttered, her voice cracking slightly. 

He could barely hear her over the rush of blood in his ears. He wanted to reach out, to pull her back into his arms, but he stayed frozen in place. 

“We -” She swallowed, her breath shaking. “We can’t. Not like this. You’re... you're running for office, Bucky. This is... this is a mess.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His pulse raced, but now it wasn’t from the rush of adrenaline and desire. Now, it was the cold, tight knot of panic curling in his stomach. He zipped his pants and tried to regain his dignity. 

“I … I’ve just ruined it,” she went on, voice barely above a whisper. “We could’ve been caught, and I… God, this could be... this could ruin your career.”

She turned away from him, reaching between the seats to retrieve her shoes and her bag. 

Bucky’s jaw clenched. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was still trying to process her words when she looked at him, eyes wide and glassy, as if she might cry any second. She looked so vulnerable, so out of control, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

He reached for her, his hand extending instinctively, but she slid along the seat, closer to the door, her breath trembling.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words so quiet, so filled with regret that they felt like a physical blow. “I didn’t think. I just… I couldn’t... I couldn’t stop. I’ve ruined everything for you. I should have just... stayed away.”

The guilt in her voice made something inside him tighten painfully. 

“Don’t,” he managed to say at last, his throat dry. But she was already moving away from him, already pulling herself together. 

She opened the door, and just before she stepped out of the car, she glanced back at him, but it wasn’t the look he expected. There was no longing, no regret, just... distance.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again. And then, before he could even process it, she was gone. 

She walked away from him, her heels clicking against the pavement as he sat there, frozen, alone in the dim light of the car. His hand hung in the air where she had been moments ago. He sat in the car, staring at the empty space between them. His chest felt hollow. 

She hadn’t just left, she had run from him. 

~~~~

He'd driven himself home, his own playlist still plugged into the dash. Everything in the driver’s seat reminded him of her. Her lip balm in the centre console, a hair claw clip attached to one of the air vents but clinging on for dear life. 

The scent of sex and her perfume filled the car.

At home, he stood in the middle of his kitchen, the silence of the place suffocating him. His hands were still shaking, he hadn’t noticed, but now they hung uselessly by his sides, feeling heavy, like they didn’t belong to him anymore. He couldn’t stop replaying it in his head. 

He pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts of her, but it was impossible.

The way her body had reacted to him, the warmth of her skin, the softness of her breath against his ear. 

The way her head had tipped back, the pleasure that had crossed her face as she tightened around his cock. The sweet, desperate sounds she made as he fucked her.

It all consumed him. 

And then, just as quickly as it had all begun, she was pulling away from him, pushing him away, leaving him in that car like he was nothing more than a mistake she wanted to forget. He paced through the kitchen, his thoughts spiraling out of control. 

Why did he always do this? Why did he always fuck things up? 

The guilt hit him like a ton of bricks. He could still feel the heat of her body against his, the way she had looked at him before she walked away. She'd blamed herself, but he should have stopped it. But he hadn’t. He’d let it happen. He should have never let it get this far.

And now, all he could think about was how he’d ruined everything. Again. He hated himself for it. Hated himself for putting her in a position where she felt like she had to leave.

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck as he stood there, unable to move, unable to do anything except drown in his own regret. He hadn’t been that close to a woman in… Christ… Since before Hydra. Since the war. Since before everything about him had been rewritten.

Even now, all these years later, with Shuri’s tech in his veins and Wakandan peace etched into his bones, there was a part of him that whispered:

What if it’s not gone?

What if it’s just sleeping?

He hadn’t trusted himself. Not with something fragile. His career was a minefield, and she hadn’t signed up for this mess. She was supposed to be a colleague. She deserved better than someone who could fuck it all up without even thinking. But the longer he stood there, the more he realised something else. Despite his guilt, he could only think of one thing. 

She should be there.

All he wanted right now was for her to be in his bed. 

He wanted more than some quick and dirty fumble on the backseat of the car. He wanted to hold her, to feel her skin against his. He wanted to taste her, he wanted to see every tremble and shiver. 

He wanted to take her apart again and again.

But the second that want rose up in him, his own mind turned on him. 

You don’t get this.

You don’t get to have this.

Ever the self-saboteur.

He knew he should probably call Sam. Sam would listen. Probably say something reasonable and kind but also just harsh enough to snap him out of being his own worst enemy. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at his reflection in the window. The city lights outlined his silhouette. 

Familiar. Dangerous.

No wonder she bailed. He couldn’t blame her.

~~~~

He hadn’t slept. Not really.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. He could still feel her pressed against him, warm and trembling, still smell her perfume clinging to his skin. Under the water in the shower, he'd found faint traces of her lipstick on his neck. She’d walked away with his cum on her thighs, and all he could think about was how much more of her he wanted.

He hadn’t even finished his coffee when there was a knock at the front door. He opened it to find a guy standing on the steps, holding a clipboard.

“Mr. Barnes? I’ve been reassigned to your transportation detail. Do you happen to have the keys to the Range Rover?”

Bucky blinked at him. The words barely registered. She’d bailed. He nodded stiffly and turned back into the house to grab the keys, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

The drive was far quieter than he’d become used to. There was no music, no humming, no early-morning opinions about pastry options or off-key singing to Chappell Roan. Just the hum of the engine and the occasional comment from the new guy.

Bucky didn’t bother speaking to him. The guy didn’t take the hint. 

“I’ve read your schedule for the day. We’ve got a tight window before the community board meeting -”

“I know what’s on my calendar,” Bucky snapped.

Silence followed. Blessed, suffocating silence.

He stared out the window, jaw clenched, fingers twitching against his thigh. Coward, he thought. She’d just… bailed. After everything that had happened, she couldn’t even face him the next morning. 

And maybe, yeah, maybe he deserved that.

But she could’ve at least had the guts to say it to his face. He pulled a file from his bag and opened it, finding a post-it stuck to the inner cover.

I can’t say this to your face… please don’t wear that ugly green tie ever again.

He huffed a short laugh and peeled the note off the page, holding it delicately between his vibranium fingers. Then he pushed it deep into his pocket. By the time they hit the fifth red light in a row, he was ready to throw the new driver out of the car and take the wheel himself.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it, it buzzed again. He sighed and yanked it out.

Sam.

“This better be good,” he muttered into the handset.

“Nice to hear your sunny voice first thing,” Sam said dryly. “So. You fired her or she quit?”

Bucky’s grip tightened on the phone. “Don’t start.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam relented. “You gonna tell me or do I have to guess?”

“I didn’t fire her,” Bucky said. “She left.”

Sam paused. “Shit. You okay?”

Bucky didn’t answer. Just stared out at the grey city morning, the scent of her still lingering in the Rover’s air vents and in the leather seats.

“Did you… do something?”

“I let something happen,” he swallowed. 

“Well. That’s progress. You used to let nothing happen.” Sam sighed. 

Bucky stayed quiet, jaw clenched as the car rolled to a stop again. The new driver muttered something about roadworks up ahead. Bucky barely heard him.

“You still there?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky muttered.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Sure about that?” 

“She left, man. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“I want you to admit to yourself that you like her.”

“I -” Bucky cut himself off. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Oh, well, shit. If you weren’t supposed to, then by all means, ignore your feelings, bottle that shit right up and carry on like you always have….”

“You’re an asshole, Wilson.”

“Maybe she’s scared.”

“Of me?”

“No. Of wanting something she thinks she can’t have. Y’know, I think this is progress,” Sam said simply.

“Progress?”

“You used to shut down over less. This is you feeling something. Big difference.”

“Doesn’t mean I know what the hell to do with it.”

“Maybe figure that out before you waste it.”

“I’ve got a meeting.”

“Well,” Sam sighed, “try not to kill anyone, yeah?”

Bucky hung up and let the phone drop to the seat next to him.

Meeting rolled into meeting rolled into glad-handing and drinks rolled into more meetings. He didn't dare ask the new guy whether he was a permanent fixture, but after a week he didn’t need to. Bucky could still hear the echo of her laugh from a week ago. He gritted his teeth.

She’d run.

He knew fear when he saw it. Hell, he’d lived inside it long enough to recognise the shape of it behind someone’s eyes. But it still burned that she hadn’t even tried to talk to him. She just slipped away. Left him sitting in that car, half-wrecked, still tasting her on his lips.

Now he was stuck with a driver who just followed the GPS like a good little drone. No chaos. No conversation. No challenge. He almost missed the way she argued with him over the best shortcut to… anywhere. Almost.

He shifted in his seat, jaw tight. He was beginning to think Sam was right. He was a mess. But he couldn’t tell if he was more furious with her… or with himself.

He reached into the centre console for her lip balm, intending to hang onto it should she return, but it was gone. 

“There was some stuff in here?” He asked the driver.

“Yeah, I had a clear out. Car was full of crap.”

He managed to stamp down the urge to tell the driver that he was full of crap.

The press pool was already waiting by the steps of the courthouse. Cameras, microphones, all of it too close, too loud, too much.

Bucky adjusted his suit jacket, the collar suddenly stiff around his neck. He caught sight of himself in a car window as he passed. He looked tired and drawn.

Pepper was beside him, heels clicking confidently on the pavement, tablet in hand. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Are you ready?”

He nodded. 

“Yeah? It’s getting a little close for you to change your mind on me?”

The crowd surged as they stepped up to the podium. Questions flying. Cameras flashing. Someone shouted a question he only half heard.

He opened his mouth, but the words caught. His tongue felt thick. Pepper stepped in smoothly, answering for him. “The candidate is eager for the campaigning to be over and is ready to commit to bringing change to this office.”

He blinked, forcing himself to nod in agreement. The crowd moved on, more noise, more questions, but he wasn’t really hearing any of it.

They slipped into the back hallway once the press had been corralled and the cameras stopped flashing. Pepper held the door for him, always two steps ahead. Always in control.

“You’re off,” she said plainly, not bothering to dress it up.

“Didn’t sleep.” Bucky ran a hand over his jaw. 

She tilted her head, unconvinced.

“You’ve got a good thing going,” she added after a beat, voice softening. “Don’t let your pride make you ruin it.”

“You talking about my campaign or something else?” He frowned. “Why aren’t you doing this, Pepper? You’re brilliant, you don’t need me.”

Pepper just gave him one of her knowing looks. The kind that said she could run this country in her sleep.

“He forgave you, you know. He may not have had a chance to say it with… everything that happened. But he did. And I know Tony would want it to be you.” She covered his hand with her own, the paths of gold in his arm illuminated by the sun streaming through the high windows and catching on the wedding ring she still wore. “Let yourself have this, James. For once.” She squeezed lightly and left him in the hallway.

He stood for a moment, a memory hit him without warning. Just the two of them stuck in traffic on the expressway, his jacket abandoned in the back seat, the sun baking the interior of the car.

He remembered the music first, loud, unapologetic. Beyoncé into Aretha into Gaga. She’d called it her ‘power woman playlist’ and refused to turn it down.

“You’re playing Run the World while we’re sandwiched between a garbage truck and a school bus,” he’d muttered, shooting her a look.

“And?” She’d been reclined slightly, foot on the dash like she owned the vehicle, sunglasses perched on her nose as she scrolled through her phone. “This tailback goes on for miles. We’re fucked.”

“Call Pepper and let her know?”

“You call Pepper! I’m not your secretary,” she’d muttered.

“She’ll kill me.” He whined.

“Great, then maybe I’ll finally be free of being stuck in traffic with you.”

He pulled a face, she stuck her tongue out. Neither of them prepared to incur the wrath of Pepper Potts. 

And now, here he was.

Back in motion. Moving forward. Making headlines.

And all he wanted was to be stuck in traffic with her again.

He just about fell into the car by the end of the day, he almost didn’t see it.

The sun caught the glint of it just right as he ducked into the Rover after another long day of pretending to be fine. Pepper had left him with a look that said You’re doing the work but you’re not here.

And now, in the dim light of the car’s interior, there it was. A slim chain, half-coiled and glittering under the drivers seat. Not flashy. Just a delicate gold bracelet with a tiny star charm, bent slightly out of shape. His breath caught in his throat.

He reached for it slowly, as though it might vanish. The clasp was broken, he remembered it now, so clearly, the way he’d gripped her wrist as her hand fisted in his shirt. How he’d heard something hit the floor and neither of them had cared.

It was such a small thing. Stupid, really. But as he turned it over in his fingers, the pressure that had been simmering under his skin since she walked away finally cracked.

He’d been punishing himself for the wrong thing. He wasn’t guilty for what they’d done, not really. He was guilty for what he hadn’t done. For letting her walk away thinking she was a mistake. He’d let her go, like he always did. 

He let people walk away from him because he thought that’s what they were supposed to do.

He looked down at the bracelet again, turned it over in his palm, then he closed his fingers around it.

Enough wallowing.

He didn’t know what he was going to say to her, not yet. But he’d find the words. He’d find her. Because whatever this was, mess or miracle, it wasn’t finished.

~~~~

Pepper was already in the car when he slipped into the backseat the following morning, still rolling the bracelet between his fingers in his pocket like it might start whispering directions.

She didn’t look at him right away, just scrolled something on her tablet, then spoke in that too-calm tone that meant she knew exactly what he was about to ask.

“I heard you tore apart your office looking for a driver’s file.” She sighed and finally looked up. “Bucky, I know you think this thing with her is some kind of disaster, but I’ve seen you during actual disasters. This isn’t one.”

“What if she doesn’t want me to find her?”

Pepper gave him the look, the one that could cow Tony on his worst days. “You would’ve done the same thing five years ago. Hell, two, even.”

“I don’t even know where she is.” He looked down at the bracelet in his palm. 

Pepper paused. Then, with a subtle movement, she slid a folded piece of paper from her planner and placed it on the seat between them. “She started working at a community kitchen on the east side. Wednesdays and Fridays.”

He stared at the paper.

“She didn’t give a forwarding address,” Pepper said lightly, “but I figured you’d get there eventually. You usually do.”

He picked up the paper without looking at her. Tucked the bracelet into his pocket.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Don’t thank me,” she said, going back to her tablet. “Just try not to screw it up twice.”

He didn’t intend to. He pulled up across the street from the community kitchen and just... sat there. Elbows on the wheel. Staring.

His phone buzzed in the cupholder and then half a second later came through the car speakers.

“You there yet?” Sam asked eagerly.

“I’m outside.”

“Then get out of the damn car.”

“I’m waiting for the right moment.”

“It’s not a hostage negotiation, man. It’s a community kitchen. You’re not even armed.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Alright, ok, fine. You want a play-by-play? Here it is. You go in. You apologise like a grown-ass adult. You tell her she means something to you. Boom. Done.”

Bucky put the car into gear and pulled away from the sidewalk.

“Jesus, are you circling the block again?”

“I’m scouting,” Bucky muttered.

“You’re stalling,” Sam snapped. “She’s not a bomb, Buck.”

“She could be,” Bucky grumbled. “Emotionally.”

There was a pause. Then Sam’s voice got soft, not mocking anymore. “You care about her. That’s scary. I get it. But you’ve already done the hard part. You let someone in. Now you just have to show up.”

Bucky pulled into a space a few meters further down the road. He exhaled slowly. His hand hovered over the door handle.

“…Go,” Sam said. “Go now.”

“I am,” Bucky said.

“You’re talking, not walking.”

“I am walking, shut up.”

“C’mon old man. Get your head in the game.”

Bucky laughed in spite of himself, then hung up. And finally, finally, he got out of the car.

The place smelled like spices and steam and something sweet baking. It was busy, loud with clattering trays and chatter, and she was behind the counter in a borrowed apron, laughing at something one of the other volunteers said. She froze. Just for a second. Then came around the counter, wiping her hands on a towel.

“If you’re here to yell -”  

“I’m not.”  

That gave her pause. “I thought you’d be furious.”  

“I was,” he admitted. “At myself.”  

She blinked. That clearly wasn’t the answer she expected.  

“So what are you doing here?” she asked, cautiously.

“I came to talk,” he says simply.

“You could’ve texted.”

“You wouldn’t have answered.”

She looked away, a flash of guilt in her eye.

“I didn’t come here to fight. I just… I needed to see you. I needed to tell you I’m sorry I let you walk away thinking you’d done something wrong.” He said quietly.

“Bucky…” she said softly. He drew in a shaking breath. “This isn’t the place.”

“I know. But I didn’t know if I’d get another chance.” 

Someone called her name. She glanced back toward the counter, then looked at him again.

“I have to finish my shift.”

“I’ll wait.”

“You don’t have to -”

“Yeah,” he tells her, “I do. I want to.”

She hesitated and then begrudgingly nodded. Then she turned back to the kitchen and got back to work. He watched her at first, laughing with her colleagues while she cooked. They had a rhythm, a cadence. She automatically, without fuss, stepped next to an older lady and lifted a large pan from the stovetop. She took the physical work away from the elderly volunteers in such a way that they didn’t notice.

While he waited, a delivery van pulled up and began unloading crates of soda, leaving them stacked just inside the door. He picked up the first couple of crates and one of the other volunteers beamed at him.

“Young man, that is so kind of you. Out the back please, there’s a shelf in the pantry.”

The driver arched an eyebrow as he brushed past her to the pantry. Then he made a second trip, and a third. Then he took over peeling potatoes from a man who needed to collect his kids from school.

At some point, someone took pity on his suit and threw an old apron over his head. By late afternoon, someone had posted a picture on Twitter and he could feel his phone blowing up in his pocket.

And when her shift ended, they walked out together.

“Can I walk with you?” He asked.

“You’re gonna leave the car there? Might not be there when you get back,” she sniggered.

“It’ll be fine.”

“There’s been pictures of you all over Twitter this afternoon.”

“I might have missed a few calls about that.”

“Can’t do your reputation any harm,” she shrugged.

“How’ve you been?” He asked.

“I’m… fine.”

“You ran -”

“Hardly, not in those heels.”

He didn’t laugh.

“I risked us getting caught. Your career would have been over. How’s the new guy?”

“Got the personality of a traffic cone.”

“Ouch, that’s cold,” she smiled faintly. “This is me.”

She nodded at the brown bricked building, clearly expecting him to say goodbye.

“Can I… Can I come up?” He asked.

She hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“Just to talk,” he assured her.

She turned and pushed the door open. She didn’t explicitly invite him in, but she left the door open behind her. He followed. Her apartment was small, lived-in, and warm. He’d barely stepped inside before she moved past him, tossing her keys into a bowl on the side and kicking off her shoes like she needed the extra second to collect herself.

“You want coffee or something?” she asked, already halfway to the kitchen.

“No,” he said softly. “I just wanted to talk some more.”

“Look, you’re the golden boy right now, Bucky. And I’m... I don’t want to be the girl who tripped you up.”  

“You’re not.” He crossed the space between them slowly, deliberately. “You didn’t ruin anything. You made me feel like… like I could actually make it through this.”

Their eyes locked, the silence thick enough to touch.

“I shouldn’t let you come up,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said.

Her fingers unclenched first, then her arms loosened. And still, neither of them moved.

Bucky stood there, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, yet still far enough that she had the space she needed. He watched her for a moment, searching her eyes like he was trying to figure out if this was the moment he’d fuck everything up again.

“You really think you ruined it?” His voice was quieter now, softer, like he wasn’t just asking, but letting her know how much he wanted her to say no.

She swallowed, lips pressing tight together, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I… I thought I had to leave before you saw it was all just... a mess. Before you realised you’d made the biggest mistake of your life”

“Have you not read my Wikipedia page?” He deadpanned. “No,” he continued, low and deliberate. “You weren’t the mess.”

She didn’t answer at first, her gaze flicking to his lips, then back up to his eyes. And then, as if the decision to cross that line was finally made for both of them, he reached for her.

The first touch was tentative, the barest brush of his fingers along her cheek, as if he was testing the waters. But when she didn’t pull away, he slid his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her in slowly, giving her the choice to stop him if she wanted to.

She didn’t. Instead, she met him halfway, pressing her lips to his, soft at first, but it didn’t stay soft for long. Her hands found his chest and twisted into his shirt, and he groaned, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss until they both forgot where they were, what they were supposed to be doing, what they were supposed to be avoiding.

It was messy. It was desperate. But it was everything. 

He broke the kiss first, forehead resting against hers as they both tried to catch their breath. His fingers shook as he touched her face, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip as though he was trying to memorise the feel of her, as though she might vanish the second he let go. She met his gaze, breath shallow.

“You’re sure?” He murmured.

Her hands slid under his shirt, warm against his skin. He wanted to say something, to tell her how much he’d wanted this, how much he needed her, but he couldn’t find the words. 

She was already pulling him toward the bedroom, her lips trailing fire down his neck as her hands worked at his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders.

He followed her lead, his lips finding hers again, more urgently now, more desperate. He lifted her effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him down the hallway. 

He pushed her back onto the bed and for a moment, everything was still. He hovered over her, he wanted to take his time, wanted to touch and taste every inch of her. 

She sat up, reaching for him and kissed him again, harder, deeper, and that was all he needed.

He tugged the hem of her t-shirt, lifting it over her head and throwing it somewhere into the corner.

She gasped when he kissed down her neck, his hands trailing along her body, memorising every inch of her skin. He needed to be gentle and savor this moment with her, but everything inside him screamed for more. 

And when she pulled him down, urging him closer, he couldn’t deny it anymore. She reached for the button on her own jeans, but he batted her hand away.

“Nope, stay still,” he urged, dragging them down her hips. Everything he hadn’t seen in the darkness of the cramped backseat of the Rover was unravelling before him. The curve of her hips, the birthmark on her thigh. Everything about her was intoxicating. He reached behind to unhook her bra, pulling the straps down her arms.

“Bucky, please,” she sighed. He shook his head.

“Didn’t get to see you last time, sweetheart.”

He kissed a hot path down her body, and hooked his index fingers in the waistband of her underwear, waiting for her to lift up so he could pull them down.

“Keep your hands to yourself, doll." He smirked as she leaned back on her elbows, propped up so she could see him. 

He placed her legs over his shoulders and littered kisses from her knees up her thighs, settling at her center. 

With a final glance up at her, he traced his tongue through her folds before teasing her clit. A flurry of expletives and moans tumbled from her, she lay back again, unable to support herself on shaking arms. Instinctively, she reached down to run her hands through his hair again, he grabbed her hips and pulled her firmly against his mouth. 

"God, Bucky!" Her breath caught in a gasp. He kissed and licked random paths across her sensitive core before slipping two fingers inside her. 

He moaned, pressing his lips against her clit, her hips arched up towards him, a desperate attempt to find more contact. He caught the movement, his hands tightening around her hips as he held her steady.

"Patience, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice low and filled with need. "I want to take my time.”

"Please, Buck -" she whispered hoarsely, her voice desperate and pleading. 

He moved his hands to spread her thighs further open, his touch both gentle and firm. His lips brushed against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, leaving a trail of hot kisses as he moved closer again to her core. 

"Yessss," she sighed, her voice a desperate plea. "Please, there… please," she begged, her body arching towards his mouth.

He laughed softly at her lack of composure, enjoying the way she came undone under his touch. "That's what I like to hear," he growled, his breath hot against your skin. "Want you to beg for me.”

Her voice cracked on crying out his name once again and  he gave in. Buried his mouth between her thighs, slow at first, just enough pressure to make her hips lift again, greedy for more.  

And God, the sounds she made… they rewired something in him. His hands gripped her hips like he was anchoring himself.  

“Jesus,” he muttered against her skin, “you’re gonna ruin me.” But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. And when her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just so, he moaned against her, like it was his name on her lips that made the world spin.

Her thighs trembled around his head, the taste of her flooded his tongue. He didn’t rush, he didn’t let her slip away from the edge. He held her there, one arm wrapped under her hip, the other hand spread low over her stomach, holding her still while he worked her apart.

The first time, she came fast, too fast, hips bucking, breath catching, his name barely audible through the groan she bit down.

He didn’t stop.

“Bucky -” she gasped, fingers clenching in his hair.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, voice low and wrecked. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

He slid two fingers into her, curling just right, his mouth still soft and relentless. When she came again, it was with a choked cry, one hand fisting the sheets, the other clinging to his metal wrist.

And still, he didn’t let go.

When he finally rose over her, his mouth slick, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen, she reached up and traced where flesh met metal at his shoulder. He stilled under her touch. Watched her.

“You always this gentle with weapons?” he asked, trying for cocky, but it came out too soft.

She smiled, thumb brushing along the seam. “Only the dangerous ones.”

She was still breathing hard when he kissed her again, slow and deep, like he wanted to memorise her from the inside out. Her thighs were slick against his hips now.

“Bucky, please,” she whispered, and he felt it everywhere.

He lined himself up with a hand around himself, the other gripping her thigh. He paused, just long enough to look at her.

He pushed into her slowly, all the air leaving his lungs in one ragged breath. She was warm and tight around him, her body drawing him in inch by inch until he bottomed out with a low groan. Her nails dug into his back, her head thrown back against the pillow, pure heat and trust beneath him.

“Jesus,” he breathed, forehead dropping to hers. “You feel like…”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and rolled her hips, grinding against him, and all he could do was move with her, slow, deep, unhurried. He wasn’t trying to chase the end. It was everything he thought he couldn’t have, he wanted to savour every second. Every time she moaned his name, he felt something inside him unravel, and when her hand slid down to the metal of his arm, gripping tight, he nearly came from that alone.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered against her skin, lips brushing her cheek, her jaw, her mouth again. “I’m not gonna last.”

He drove into her again, this time harder, the rhythm losing its softness but not the meaning. She clenched around him, a sharp gasp escaping her as her climax surged through her again, this time with him inside her, gripping him, holding him there.

“Fuck -” he choked, the feeling of her coming undone around him undoing everything in him.

His control snapped.

One, two more thrusts and he was gone, spilling into her with a groan. He pressed his forehead to hers, trembling. 

They stayed like that, bodies tangled and damp, hearts hammering in sync, her fingers still gently threading into the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Still in her.

He didn’t pull away. Her legs were still wrapped tight around his waist, heels hooked just above the curve of his ass. 

She shifted slightly beneath him, and it made them both gasp, too much and not enough, all at once.

“Jesus,” he whispered, voice wrecked, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You feel… fuck, you feel like everything.”

One of her hands slid up his spine, nails grazing lightly, gently. The other curled at the back of his neck, holding him there like she didn’t want to let go. 

She was still breathing hard when he tucked her into his side, arm curled around her waist, nose pressed to her temple like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Just the soft sound of their breath, the slow return to normal. Then she shifted, just enough to hook her leg over his hip. His hand moved instinctively to her thigh, thumb brushing the crease where her leg met her hip. 

“You’re not done, are you?” she murmured, teasing, her voice rough and warm.

He huffed a laugh, low in his chest. “Not even close.”

She turned her head to look at him, eyes soft and a little smug. “Super soldier stamina?”

He met her gaze, that crooked smile playing at his lips again. “One of the perks,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

Her fingers traced lazy circles over the metal plates of his arm where it rested on her belly, curious and gentle. “Do you… feel it? When I touch this?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quiet now. “Not like flesh. But I feel you.”

Her touch slowed, thoughtful. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered following the paths of Wakandan gold with her fingertips. The plates and panels seemed to shiver under her touch. He traced the same pattern on her thigh. 

“I don’t know where this is going,” she said softly, “but… I want to find out.”

His hand curled around to grip her ass and pulled her closer. “We will… but first…” 

~~~~

Bucky was up before her. Still in bed, propped on one elbow as he watched her with a lazy, satisfied look that made her bury her face in the pillow to hide her smile.

“You’re staring,” she mumbled.

“You talk in your sleep,” he replied, completely deadpan.

She reached back to swat at him, but he caught her wrist easily, grinning as he kissed the inside of it. “Don’t worry. Still cute.”

She rolled over and narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re cocky in the mornings.”

“Mm,” he hummed, nuzzling her neck, “wonder why.”

She shivered and pushed at his shoulder. “You’re insufferable.”

“Probably,” he said, clearly unbothered. “Want coffee or something else first?”

“First time in my life I'm not gonna say coffee,” she smiled.

“I wouldn't worry about that, I thought up a house rule while you were sleeping.”

“It's my house?”

“You'll like it,” he told her as she rolled them both over to straddle his hips. “It's simple. Every time we enter a new room, I get to fuck you in it.”

She threw her head back with a laugh, “Yes, I am definitely into that rule.”

He sat up without warning, making her squeak in surprise, and stood with her in his arms. 

“So, coffee?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing. “I don't have many rooms.”

He grinned against her shoulder. “There's my place too, and we’ve only tried the backseat of the car... Better pace yourself.”

Later they curled up on her couch, mugs of coffee in hand, the remains of a shared croissant on the table between them. Her legs were tucked under his, and he hadn’t stopped touching her. A thumb brushing her ankle, his knuckles grazing her knee.

“So,” she said, watching him over the rim of her mug, “what happens now?”

Bucky glanced at her, “well… I’ve got an event tonight, five more campaign stops next week, a town hall on Thursday, and a guy who can’t drive, doesn’t bring snacks and listens to talk radio.”

She snorted. “Tragic.”

He nodded solemnly. “Yeah, it's not great… I want you back,” he said. “Not just in the driver’s seat. I mean, unless you want to. You were pretty great at it. But I want… this. You.”

She bit her bottom lip, hiding the smile he already saw anyway. “Even if I challenge you on literally everything?”

“Especially that.” He reached for her hand. 

“Alright then. But driver's radio privileges are back in force.” She warned lightly. 

He groaned. “Even the boy bands playlist?”

“Of course the boy bands playlist! And you’re telling Pepper.”

He leaned over to kiss her, and this time it was slow and certain. No more running, no more second-guessing. Just him and her and a quiet beginning to something that felt a lot like normality. 

FIN

[vxsellie]

would you be willing write bodyguard!ellie x burlesque!reader fic??? or ellie could literally be whatever i have no preference!! 🪲

┆𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬 - E.W ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆₊˚. ᵎᵎ

♯ 𝘪'𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 !

summary. to become a vedette was the dream of many ⎯ including yourself. unfortunately, though, you learned the hard way that some dreams were meant to remain fanciful. because, once achieved, the reality of such an industry was far from what you'd imagined it to be. as your underground burlesque club rose in popularity, you alongside it, your personal safety began to deteriorate. in an attempt to salvage yourself from the predatory audience, a bodyguard was hired. notes. the way pink won by 1.1% is so funny to me, but pink it is! also! i had no idea what a burlesque dancer was before this. i did tons of research and watched tons of videos, but in no way whatsoever is this historically accurate. burlesque was popular from 1860s-1930s, getting most traction in the 70s. but i'm frankly a bit shitty at history, so i don't really know what the world was like in the 1800s, so i set this oneshot in the 1920s bc i have the most prior knowledge on that time frame. but, again, this is NOT historically correct whatsoever. certain things i mention might not even be invented at that time, the way people talk might be super incorrect, etc etc etc. so pls just have that in mind. warnings. mentions of assault, illegal selling & purchasing of alcohol, depictions of violence and blood, injury, suggestive ending wc. 8.2k

when ellie accepted this job, she hadn't expected to be roped into such deep shit.

she'd envisaged being dragged through shops and taverns with some random rich transient, told to scare off some creeps, then fired once the opulent stranger grew bored of her monotonous company. what she hadn't expected was you ⎯ someone completely ordinary among passerbyers whilst simultaneously being the most powerful and sought after woman come nightfall.

you own a club, you see, having started your business two decembers prior to present. it began small, only a few people visiting due to mere curiosity and rarely returning. struggling to amass a crowd, you became your own patron; you became a burlesque dancer at your own cabernet. this quickly gained the attention of those who dared wander into the debauched street where your club resides. an underground business run by the alluring woman advertised ⎯ what promiscuous standee wouldn't be intrigued? plus, by the time you were making hundreds nightly, you were in too deep to quit as a dancer. those who visited did so for you. to turn only to a business woman was out of the question.

but, as stated, your club was underground and therefore unknown by the average citizens, only spoken of by those sinful enough to indulge. this way, you were a mysteriously rich woman by day and a desirably powerful one by night. it wasn't exactly what you'd intended to become when first creating your business, but you'd be a fool to complain when making such wealth.

however, nothing ignominious lasts long before the reason for such shame rears its beastly head.

and when it did, you were unable to escape unscathed. you'd been cornered in an alley on your way home, pinned to a brick wall by one of your frequent customers, barely having gotten away intact. after landing a solid hit to the back of his skull with a nearby object turned weapon, you staggered the rest of the way home. a bruise was forming on your jaw from the perpetrator's aggression and a small cut was trailing blood down your bicep from your own lack of attention to your surroundings as you'd accidentally scraped yourself on a stone as you ran from the scene. yeah, so, that's when you made the decision that you needed a bodyguard.

when ellie first laid her eyes on you, she recognized you in an instant. see, she'd never been to your burlesque club on her own; she didn't much care for that form of self deprecation. rather, she'd heard your name spoken many times before by disreputable miscreants and seen your face on a few posters in the more shady parts of town.

tonight was her first official night to be spent with you. the two of you had met once or twice beforehand, getting the payments and conditions in check as well as making her sign and NDA for fear of her causing your cabernet to be found. though, she'd never seen your house and you'd never seen hers, the two of you having met in public settings such as bakeries or parks to discuss such matters. it was entirely professional.

but tonight, now that everything has been put in order, she is to accompany you to the bar. you already told her what you expected of her ⎯ blend in with the crowd and keep watch from afar, only intervene if deemed absolutely necessary. yes yes, she replayed the sentence over and over in her head, just to be sure it's cemented into her memory. totally not because she likes to replay the smoothness of your voice nor the gentility of your tone when attempting to speak quietly as to not draw attention. yeah, no. definitely not that.

"fuck, it's cold." she hisses, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders as the two of you walk down the sidewalk. your sparkly heels click against the concrete with your every step, only visible under the dull illumination of the sparse streetlights. you're wearing a long coat that covers your neck down to your mid-calf, black in color yet thin in efficiency. "i dunno how you're not freezing your ass off, right now." she comments through chattering teeth.

you huff a laugh, "suppose i've grown used to it."

the air is frigid, your breaths coming out in puffed clouds. snow has yet to fall, but it's surely not far from doing so. the night is black, shadows looming over shabby buildings ⎯ venturing from the rich side of town where you live to the more decrepit side of town where law enforcement is thinned and as is people's class. the perfect place for a speakeasy.

you turn down a random alley where streetlights no longer provide a blanket of comfort. ellie trails behind you, entire body shivering as she takes in her foreign surroundings. on either side are sordid buildings, the brick chipped and paint flaking and wood rotting.

the sound of knocking draws her attention back to you, gaze landing on where you now stand at the very end of the alley. she jogs over to you just in time to hear your knocking in a certain pattern on an old wooden door that she hadn't noticed prior. there's not even an exterior handle, the door almost invisible when paired with the darkness of the alley and its similarity to the wall that embodies it.

knock knock, knock. a pause. creaking.

the door opens with a creak, a man's head peeking out the crack. he sets his eyes on you and instantly swings it open fully to allow you entry. you nod at him before sauntering past. ellie continues to trail behind you, though she's stopped when the man holds out an arm across her chest.

his hair is long and greasy, thick brows overhanging deep brown eyes. a miasma of alcohol and cigarettes clouds him in the form of a malodorous aura. ellie's nose crinkles as she scowls at him.

"not you." he says coldly, shoving her back outside into the alley. she staggers backward, the cold air clinging to her. anger licks up her spine at the aggression of his shove, but she buries it as soon as you enter the scene.

"fuck off, george, she works for me." you huff, moving past him to open the door wider for ellie. she glares at george as she passes, entering the cabernet with a distasteful expression. as she walks past the entrance, you remain in the doorway to reprimand your employee. she'd usually mind her business but, seeing as it's her job to be in your business, she remains closeby as you harshly explain the situation him.

ellie looms over you like an intimidating shadow as you rebuke george. she doesn't listen into the conversation, well aware of it not being her concern. still, she watches him closely, daring the man to step a toe out of line. thankfully, he seems to know better.

a few minutes pass before the two of you leave him to enter the cabernet fully. ellie takes in the sight of the place, never having been inside of one before. the floors are wooden and glossy, laid in a diamond pattern. the walls are satin, embedded with intricate golden designs. there are circular tables crowding the space, all faced toward an elevated stage, which ellie assumes is where the burlesque dancers preform. to the left is a bar, a woman behind the counter serving alcohol to a few people ⎯ though there aren't many customers seeing as the star of the show hadn't yet arrived. to the right are bathrooms and dressing rooms for the dancers.

the rest of the night is spent rather normally. you do your job as usual, dancing suggestively whilst telling satire stories to keep the guests entertained. as the night goes on, the tables fill and the bar grows impossibly busy, now needing extra employees to work behind the counter alongside the priorly singular barista.

ellie stands near the back, arms crossed as she watches over the scene. she tries her hardest not to get distracted by you; by the way your hips sway, the way your chest bounces, the way your legs move, the way your voice hums. all things considered, she'd say she did a pretty good job at the attempt. she averted her gaze more times than she can count, but that's to be expected, is it not?

thankfully, nobody tried anything. the drunken guests made lewd comments and lustful expressions, but never tried touching you or anything else out of line.

it's three hours past midnight when you decide it was time to head back home. as the crowd thins out, you retreat to your dressing room. ellie remains in the corner, standing around awkwardly as you exit the stage. she watches the people file out of the tiny door and into the darkened alley, cold air brushing inside via the opened door.

"so," your voice suddenly speaks, tone nigh a drawl. ellie turns her head toward the sound to see you buttoning your chesterfield coat as you approach. you shoot her a grin, "how was it?"

"good." she replies, perhaps a bit too hastily. she blinks a few times before clearing her throat, "it- uh, yeah. it was good."

you chuckle, walking toward the door as she follows behind you. "no need to be such a prude, williams. you sulked in the corner all night like a disciplined child. i just want to make sure you're not having second thoughts concerning your job."

"what?" she questions, head whipping to face you. "no, not at all! i've just never been to a place like this before, that's all. i don't know how to act."

the two of you pass through the doorway, george having held it open for you. the chill of the air traces up your spine, goosebumps coating your skin. you pull your coat tighter around yourself, though you're careful to not appear too cold as to avoid ellie's concern.

"well, if you'd like, i can help you in that endeavor." you say.

"help me?" she narrows her eyes in inquiry. "in making me feel less awkward?"

"in teaching you how to act." you correct with an amused expression, turning a corner. ellie's brows furrow, urging you digress. "look, there are tons of ways to blend in with everyone else. first of all, try looking a bit less flustered when seeing the dancers strip. second, uncross your arms for it makes you look displeased. third, sit down. you were standing against the wall the whole time and it's unnatural. just take a seat, buy a drink, and enjoy yourself."

she frowns, "easier said than done."

"you act like you've never seen a woman nude, williams." you say with a laugh. "maybe get a bit tipsy before the show and you'll feel more at ease, yeah?"

"i'm not allowed to be drunk on the job." she tells you. "i'm supposed to stay alert in the case of something happening."

you let out a sigh, carbon dioxide exiting visibly. "you won't be drunk, you'll just be a bit tipsy. plus, if you sit in the front, you'll be able to get to me quicker. that way, even if you're a bit disoriented, you'll have the upper hand in proximity's case."

ellie thinks on this for a moment, weighing her options. on one hand, she knows that bodyguard are not supposed to drink, smoke, or do anything else that could impair their ability to do their job. but on the other, you're the one pulling the strings here; she technically works for you. and you're asking her to drink. so, in a certain sense of things, who would she be to decline you?

"fine." she gives in. "but if anything happens to you and i'm too fucking wasted to help, i'll never forgive myself. or you."

you laugh, patting her arm lightly, "oh c'mon, i trust you'll be able to help me even if you're a bit drunk. also, nobody will do anything during the show. it's the before and after that we have to worry about; the spooky walk home in the dark."

she purses her lips at this, suddenly made aware of your guys' surroundings. you're walking along the same sidewalk you'd taken to get to the cabernet, your heels clicking with each step just as they had before. the streetlamps provide a dim yellow glow, but that's it. the moon is naught but a skinny crescent and the stars are rather dull. she'd been on edge, of course she had. but now that it's been spoken aloud to her attention, she's been made extra aware of it.

the rest of the walk back to your house was spent in easy conversation and light laughter. she glanced over her shoulder every few minutes, but nobody was ever behind you.

and, before long, the two of you've reached your destination ⎯ no longer surrounded by the shady alleys near your club, but now surrounded by huge mansions and cars, your own home among them.

"do you want me to walk you inside?" ellie offers as you fumble with your key to unlock your front door, your fingers too cold to operate fully. she notices, but says nothing on the matter.

"i can walk though my own house, williams." you laugh. "but thank you."

she nods, holding the door open for you once you've managed to get it unlocked. you give her a grateful smile before entering and she shuts the door behind you. as it clicks shut, she huffs out a breath.

standing on the porch of your mansion, she can't help but feel out of place here. not due to wealth but to merit. with a sigh, she turns on her heel and leaves your porch, descending the steps and beginning to walk down the sidewalk once more.

on her walk to her own house, she can't stop replaying the night over and over in her head ⎯ the sound of your laughter under the moonlight, the sight of your skin being teased to the audience. there's just something about you that she can't get out of her fucking head. it's only been one night and you've managed to drive her insane.

the following night is spent in a similar fashion. walking together to the cabernet, laughing and talking the whole way there, knocking a certain pattern on the decrepit wooden door, having to remind george that ellie is now allowed inside without payment.

"okay," you say, undoing the top button of your chesterfield coat as ellie trails behind you into the club. nobody else is here yet, the two of you having arrived earlier to make sure ellie can get front seats. "i'm heading back to the dressing rooms. while i do, you can go get a drink or two and sit down, yeah?"

"yeah." she's quick to agree with a nod.

"perfect," you smile, slipping your coat off your shoulders. ellie averts her eyes, cheeks suddenly feeling warm. you huff a laugh, "see you in a bit, williams."

with that, you walk over to the dressing rooms, disappearing behind a beaded doorway. now alone in the center of an empty club, ellie sighs before sauntering over to the bar. she perches atop a wooden stool, the fabric of its seat a thin velvet. she places her elbows on the shiny countertop, resting her chin in her palm.

she takes in the sight of the bottles behind the counter and the low lighting of the bar in general. despite it's prohibition, it's not rare to see alcohol. nobody really abides the law when it comes to intoxication. what's uncommon is to see so much of it. not only is it crazy expensive to buy booze nowadays, but it's also easier to be tracked down and apprehended for it if you have so much.

after a few minutes of wait, a barista eventually rounds the corner, approaching ellie with an apologetic expression. her fiery red hair catches the light, pale skin even paler as she rushes to tend to the customer. "i'm so sorry, ma'am." she rushes out while still tying her apron behind her waist. "i hadn't a clue someone would arrive so early."

"it's fine," ellie assures her, "i don't mind waiting if you need some more time to get ready."

"that's very kind of you." she smiles. "but no, i needn't more time."

ellie shrugs, accepting her response. she then turns back to looking at the bottles that line the wall behind the barista. "can i get the gin rickey?"

"of course." the ginger smiles before turning around to grab a bottle of gin alongside a glass from under the counter. she mixes the drink, adding lime juice and club soda before sliding it across the countertop.

see, ellie doesn't go out drinking often. especially not after the ban of alcohol, as it became harder to find. but she knows that gin rickey is a rather common drink within speakeasies, the taste and convenience of the drink making them quite popular at this time. so, she assumed it wouldn't hurt to see what was so great about it. and, needless to say, she comes to enjoy it.

as the club begins to fill up with guests, she decides it's time to take her seat in the front. ellie ends up having about three more drinks before taking a fourth to go, sauntering over to a table closest to the stage. the circular table is covered with a cream white cloth, the chair wooden with the same velvet cushion as the barstools.

there, she continues to sip on her drink as she awaits your arrival.

she feels her eyelids begin to weigh down a bit, her shoulders feeling uncharacteristically heavy. she recalls the conversation from last night and the way she had to remind you that she couldn't be too drunk on the job. she ends up having to remind herself of the same thing, telling herself that this is the last drink she'll be having for the night ⎯ enough to be more at ease as you'd requested, yet not too much that she feels unable to tend to you if needed. a perfect level.

people crowd the cabernet as it grows darker outside, guests rushing to the bar to get a free stool before they're all taken, then staggering over to an empty table once they're well inebriated.

when the first dancer walks onto the stage, the crowd cheers. she does a few dances, tells a few jokes, takes off her top, and then rotates for the next dancer to come forward. to ellie, it feels rather quick. but when she checks the grandfather clock against the wall, it'd apparently taken the dancer about half an hour before she leaves the stage.

the next dancer is a blonde woman who winks at ellie when she first comes out. the man behind ellie cheers loudly, almost making her go deaf with his boisterous assumption of the woman's favor. she does a more sensual dance than the woman prior to her, taking off her skirt and top, tossing them out to the crowd. she remains in her bra and panties, both of which are adorned with gems that twinkle in the spotlight.

ellie's instincts are to look away, to avert her gaze as to be respectful. but she recalls the way you'd made fun of her for doing so last night, calling her a prude. her cheeks heat as her mind traitorously reminds her of the sound of your laughter. evidently, the blonde dancer on the stage takes her blush as being directed toward her and she shoots her another wink, which leads to the man behind her cheering loudly again. ellie curse herself for the series of events and the way they'd played out so easily despite their involuntary origin.

as the blonde woman walks off the stage, she give one last wink in ellie's direction. she blows her a kiss, waving with her fingers before disappearing behind the curtains. the man behind her goes absolutely insane, ellie's ears ringing from his noisiness. she sucks in a breath, hoping this mistake doesn't lead to anything adverse.

the next and final person to take the stage is you.

the crowd goes crazy, you being the most popular vedette among all burlesque dancers in this city. they clap and cheer and whoop as you just smile and wave, heels clacking in that familiar pattern that reminds ellie of her walks with you. her face is suddenly heating up again. she curses herself mentally, picking up her glass and taking a long sip from her drink in hopes of the rim covering her reddened cheeks.

you move languidly, almost fluid in your leisure. your body shifts with ease, dancing in a sensual peace. your heels click, your hips sway, your hair cascades. everything about you is reeling ellie in, alluring and captivating yet seductive and lewd. she can't seem to tear her eyes away, memorizing every inch of your body as one would adore a piece of art. she takes in your body as though its made of brush strokes and paint and it could vanish in an instant.

you remove your top in one swift movement, pulling the fabric over your head and allowing it to fall to the floor with a gentle brush. the crowd cheers and ellie is painfully reminded that she's not the only one in here. though your chest remains covered by a frilly bra, she feels a weight in her belly at the sharp reminder ⎯ an aching possessiveness that yearns to be special, to be the only one to see you this way.

your eyes meet hers, something passing between you. something sharp and steady and intimate. something striking in its rarity. though, just as fast as it'd happened, it's gone. you turn away, shifting your gaze over the crowd as you continue to sway and oscillate.

ellie takes another swig of her drink, hoping to swallow down her rising emotions. hoping to drown them.

before she even realizes it, the clock strikes three and you're disappearing off the stage with a flourish. the crowd cheers as you walk away, whistling and whooping.

they all begin to slowly file out of the club once it's made aware that the show is over, taking their loud voices with them. of course, ellie doesn't follow suit. she stays seated, swirling the last drop of her drink around in her glass. she watches the liquid swish around, her drunken mind easily entertained by the sight.

when she hears footsteps exit the dressing room, she assumes it's you and turns around with a grin. her face quickly falls when she sees the blonde dancer from earlier walking up to her with a suggestive smirk.

"waiting for someone?" she questions, eyes glinting with a hint of lust.

"uh, yeah." ellie replies, far too awkward and drunk to think of something clever to say in response. her cheeks heat with embarrassment, though the blonde is quick to take it wrong.

"no need to be so flustered." she coos, walking over to where ellie remains seated. she places her hand on the table in front of ellie, leaning down so their faces are mere inches apart. in a gentle croon, she says, "i don't bite."

"well," ellie leans back a little to put distance between them, "i'm not-"

"ruth, leave her alone." your voice comes from the other side of the room, the sound of your heels serving as a bit of familiar comfort to ellie. the blonde woman lifts her head, expression falling when she sees you approaching.

"mind your business." the blonde ⎯ whose name ellie has gathered to be ruth ⎯ groans. "must you steal every person i show interest in?"

ellie opens her mouth to intervene, ready to say something to ease the nigh palpable tension in the air. but you beat her to it, not having noticed ellie's futile attempt to interrupt.

you roll your eyes, still buttoning the top buttons of your coat. "first of all, i've never stolen someone from you because i frankly don't give a shit. second, that poor woman is clearly not interested in you."

"don't speak for her when you don't even know her." ruth frowns, placing her hands on her hips. "and yes she is interested."

"how about you let her choose then." you suggest, crossing your arms after gesturing to ellie with raised brows. "maybe, for once, let the person you're bothering have a say in this."

"fine." ruth snaps, practically fuming at this point. despite her anger, she turns to ellie pleadingly. "tell her."

ellie almost feels bad for ruth. despite the way you'd insinuated that she has a history of not asking for people's opinions on matters such as these, she feels a bit guilty. she'd blushed at ruth multiple times ⎯ though they'd all happened to be unrelated. anyone would be able to get the wrong impression in ruth's position.

"listen, i'm just a bodyguard." ellie says carefully, holding her hands up in defense. "i'm not trying to sleep with anyone. i'm just⎯"

"bodyguard?" ruth mutters, brows furrowing. she glances between you and ellie, the dots slowly connecting. her lip then raises in disgusted rage. "what the fuck!? you hired a goddam bodyguard!"

"i was getting followed home." you explain, equally irritated though you attempt keep your tone calm.

"so just because you're the most fucking popular, you think your safety is more important than any of the other dancers!?" ruth seethes.

"don't put words in my mouth, asshole." you shoot back. "you can hire any bodyguard you fucking want, nobody's stopping you. it's not my fault i thought of it first and you happened to be fucking horny for who i hired."

as you and ruth continue to argue back and forth, the tension steadily rises higher and higher. ellie watches with wide eyes, trying to determine when exactly she should get involved. but, at the same time, you and ruth appear to have been working together for quite a long time, maybe this was an inevitable argument she should let happen? maybe she's just drunk and thinks that it's worse than it is? yeah. she leans back, settling with her decision to allow the two of you to just fight it out. it'll be good for you to⎯

her thoughts are interrupted when ruth snatches up ellie's glass and breaks it on the side of the table, the lip of it now a pointed blade that she holds out at you. it's sharp, the glass fully able to cut through skin if needed.

"ruth.." you breathe, holding your hands up in surrender. "ruth, just calm down..."

at the sound of glass breaking and your shaky voice, ellie is suddenly on her feet, putting herself between you and ruth. she holds an arm across your chest, acting as a human shield.

"get out of my fucking way." ruth snaps. "i don't wanna hurt you, just the cocky bitch you're protecting."

"put the glass down." ellie demands, voice suddenly lowered a few octaves.

the baristas are long gone, having left the club alongside the rest of the guests a good twenty minutes ago. the only person in here except for the three of you is george. he watches from the doorway, eyes wide and shoulders tense. he can't call the cops or the cabernet will be found out and promptly shut down. and he knows better than to get involved. so he's simply forced to watch from afar, poor guy.

ruth glares at ellie, sidestepping in an attempt to get to you. but ellie moves in unison, remaining in her way. ruth curses, jaw clenched. ellie holds you close to her, your chest flush against her back as she holds you by the wrist, her other arm out to ruth in a calming gesture which mirrors one that'd be used when approaching a feral animal.

"fuck you!" ruth spits at ellie, lower lips trembling. her grip on the glass shakes as well, though she remains holding it tightly. "i thought someone fucking liked me! for once, i thought someone would take interest in me! but no. no, i should've known. as always, you were more interested in her!"

"look, i understand you're mad, just⎯"

ellie's words are interrupted by ruth surging forward and stabbing the sharp end of the glass into ellie's thigh, yanking it back out and tossing the bloody glass to the floor.

ellie buckles over in pain, blood seeping down the leg of her pants. when she looks back up, ruth is already across the room, shoving past george as she runs from the scene. george is frozen in place, lips parted as he glances between ellie's bloody form and ruth's depleting one.

"fuck," you mutter, eyes wide as you move to pull out a chair for ellie to sit in. you hold onto her shoulders, helping to ease her into the seat. "fuckfuckfuck."

"calm down," ellie says between heavy breaths. her chest is heaving, her hand keeping pressure on the wound. despite the pain, she stares up at you with blown pupils and parted lips. "take a deep breath, i'm fine."

you shake your head, completely ignoring ellie's attempts to calm you. god, you can't fucking believe her right now. a shard of glass is on the floor, covered in her blood and here she is insisting she's fine. trying to keep you calm. you squeeze your eyes shut, pacing in circles as you try to formulate some sort of plan.

you can't call the police or your club will be revealed. but you also can't go home, wandering the streets with a girl bleeding out on your back. fuck. no matter what you do, it's incriminating.

your pacing ceases as an idea pops into your head.

"george." you call out over your shoulder. the man lifts his head, entire face having gone pale from the sight of all that's happened in front of him. "in the dressing room, under the vanity, there's a first aid kit. bring it to me."

george nods quickly, staggering away from his place by the door and heading toward the dressing room as asked. with him now gone to get the med kit, you turn back to ellie. you crouch down in front of her, your hands shaking as you reach forward to remove her own hand from the wound to examine its severity.

blood soaks her pants, almost coating her entire thigh crimson. the material is torn where the glass was inserted, showing where her skin is sliced right open. right across the muscle.

"okay," you breathe shakily, pressing your palm against the injury to prevent too much bloodloss. "okay, um-"

"calm down," she murmurs again, voice a bit groggy. "look, i'm fine. once george comes back with the med kit, i can patch myself up and i'll walk you home. how's that sound?"

"what!? no!" you shake your head at her incredulously. "no, i got you into this mess. the least i can do is help."

"but you don't have to." she insists. "i can stitch myself just fine, and-"

"ellie, shut the fuck up." you snap, her eyes widening at your sudden harsh tone. not only that but the sound of her first name leaving your lips makes her chest flutter. you shake your head, unaware of the bodily reaction you engendered. "i'll stitch you up, then i'll find some place for us to stay. somewhere nearby that won't ask a million questions."

"uh," she blinks, trying to remember what you guys passed on your journey here, trying her best to do something to help. "wait, yeah. i think saw a motel not too far from here. a block or two down the road, maybe?"

"oh, yes. perfect!" you grin up at her. "i know exactly what you're talking about. i know the owner, too. we might not even have to pay if i promise him free drinks."

ellie's face flushes at the sight of your smile. the combination of everything is getting to her. her inebriation, the feel of your hand on her thigh, the sight of your beaming smile. yeah, she's in fucking heaven.

it's a few minutes later when george returns with the med kit, his hands shaking slightly as he nears you and ellie. his widened eyes appear to be nigh incapable of looking away from her bloodied leg. he swallows harshly before placing the kit on the tabletop.

you offer him a soft smile, grabbing the kit from the surface. you open it as you speak. "thank you, george. you can go home now, if you'd like. get some rest."

"okay." he nods, frankly a bit frantic. "okay, just⎯ just let me know if you need anything, yeah?"

"yeah, of course." you assure him, watching as he rushes to leave the building, pulling on his coat as he shoves the door open. once it closes behind him, you turn back to ellie and the med kit.

one of your hands remains on ellie's thigh, keeping pressure on the open gash. the other pulls the kit into you lap, cracking it open before you sift through the contents. you can feel every movement ellie makes, every shift or wince or twitch. despite the situation being far less than ideal, it all feels oddly intimate. to be so close, to see her in such a vulnerable way. especially when you're now the only two people in the club. you shake your head to rid your mind of the thoughts clouding it.

you pull out a tube of antibiotic ointment, struggling to twist off the cap with one hand. ellie notices your struggle and leans forward, having to bury a wince as she does so.

"here," she says, placing one of her hands over yours as she takes the ointment from your grasp. she pops it open before handing it back to you. "no need to be so independent, you can ask me to open one measly tube."

"i don't want to ask you anything." you grumble, squeezing a drop of the ointment onto your forefingers. "you're wounded, let me do the work."

"you're acting like i lost a limb," she says with an airy chuckle, making you frown. "i have a cut on my thigh. i can still use my hands."

you remove your hand from the wound and begin to dab the ointment onto the reddened skin around it. ellie shivers, but says nothing. if anything, this should feel good. it's supposed to ease the pain and allow the injury to heal faster. as you continue to coat the gash in the ointment, you glance up at her. "maybe i'm not dramatic and you're just too calm, ever consider that?"

"there's no such thing as too calm." she defends herself, feigning a sense of untouchable pride.

you huff out a laugh, "oh shut up."

ellie can't help the way her eyes are pinned to your face, her pale green eyes studying every expression that grazes your features. every dip or crevice of your skin, every furrow of your brow, every twitch of your lips; she memorizes it all. and when you laugh? oh, when you laugh she swears her heart stops beating.

you twist the ointment closed, placing it back in the kit before digging through it for some bandages. you find a roll of gauze, frowning as you'd hoped to find a patch instead. but you can't complain too much as you're lucky to even have a first aid kit at all. in fact, you only bought one because one of the baristas sliced their hand open a few weeks ago and george insisted that it'd be a good idea to at least own bandaids. so, had this happened last month, ellie would have been fucked.

"okay," you mutter as you turn back to ellie, suddenly noticing her staring. you narrow your eyes at her playfully. "what is it?"

her cheeks burn bright red, blinking as she averts her gaze to look at something random on the wall over your head. "nothing, i just⎯ i really like that statue."

you raise a brow, glancing over your shoulder to follow her gaze. when you see the nude statue she was referring to, you almost laugh. it's a naked man, his legs spread seductively, his abs so sharp that it's literally impossible for a human to obtain. you turn back to her, her cheeks now even more red than before.

"fuck," she breathes, hanging her head between her shoulders in embarrassment.

you laugh, "you really like that statue, huh?"

"shut up." she groans, holding her face in her hands. "i wasn't even looking at that statue, i didn't know it was a naked dude."

you begin to unravel the gauze as you continue to tease her. you're well aware that ellie was staring at you. and the only reasons she'd try to hide that fact is if she either didn't mean to or if she's into you. and, as someone who's hit on almost daily, you're pretty skilled at noticing when someone likes you. and ellie has a bad crush. its kinda cute, so you decide to act oblivious, just to see how many lies she can make up.

"well, if you weren't looking at the state, what were you looking at?" you ask her, tilting your head to feign innocent curiosity.

"uh," she sputters, her cheeks so hot that it's painful. you raise your brow, urging her to respond. you notice that the tips of her ears are red as well and you almost feel guilty for teasing her like this. "i don't⎯"

"it's fine, ellie," you chuckle, tearing the gauze to have a long strip in your hand. "i'm just picking on you."

"oh. yeah. right." she nods, mentally cursing herself.

you glance back down at the gauze in your hand, shifting it around so it's ready to wrap around. you look back up at ellie before placing one hand under her knee and lifting it a bit. she winces and your heart clenches, "i know, i'm sorry, i just need to⎯"

"quit that," she murmurs, placing her own hand under her knee and pulling it a bit higher up so you can wrap the gauze around her thigh. "quit apologizing. you're helping me, there's nothing to be sorry for."

"for hurting you." you grumble, wrapping the gauze around her thigh thrice before tying it off onto itself and she eases her leg back down onto the chair.

"you're not hurting me," she chuckles. "my leg is hurting me. not you."

you laugh, "so now you're personifying your leg? how much did you drink?"

"hey, i'm trying to comfort you." she defends herself. "i'm not even drunk anymore. getting stabbed in the thigh sobered me up quite a bit, y'know."

you laugh again and ellie finds herself drowning in the wave of emotions that overcomes her. you're like a fucking tsunami of feelings, like an entire ocean coming to wash her away after having constructed a dam to keep them in. regardless of the prior amount, you're enough to overflow it. to take her by surprise and fucking waterboard her with your easy perfection.

"you're doing it again." you say, standing up from your crouched position. ellie looks up at you, her eyes following your every movement as though by instinctive impulse.

"doing what?" she asks dumbly.

you chuckle, holding your hand out to help her to her feet. "staring at the naked dude statue."

"oh no, please don't make that a thing." she groans.

"it's already a thing, baby." you respond as she takes your hand to aid her in hauling herself up. the sound of the nickname is enough to make her head spin, even more than it already is from having stood up so abruptly. her cheeks burn and you fucking love it. seeing ellie blush is your favorite way to see her; considering how stoic and indifferent she usually is, to see her flustered like this is surreal. and to be able to do it so easily, too? yeah.

ellie drapes an arm over your shoulders, using you as a crutch as the two of you stagger toward the door. you push it open with a boisterous creak, the frigid air stinging your cheeks and hands instantly. but the coldness isn't what shocks you. it's the small flakes of ice that dust through the air.

"it's snowing," you murmur, staring up at the starry sky in awe. a smile warms your features in spite of the chill. "oh, i've always loved the snow."

ellie, frankly, has never much cared for the snow. but the moment she sees you looking up at it like this, she can't help but see the beauty in it; rather the beauty that stands in it. but still, regardless of witticism, she ends up adoring the snow from this day on, the sparkly elegance of the flakes alluring against the biting shivery it induces. the way one is only able to within it for short increments almost adds to its magnetism, making one yearn for more whilst simultaneously rushing to be out of it.

the two of you saunter down the sidewalk toward the nearby inn you'd discussed priorly. ellie leans on you heavily, her limp slowing you down so it almost takes half an hour to walk two blocks. but, once you two finally arrive at the motel, the results are just as you'd hoped.

the innkeeper, once having recognized you, agrees to not ask questions nor to make you pay in exchange for a week of free alcohol at your cabernet. with that, he passes you a key and assigns you two a shared room down the hall.

the inn is old and dilapidated. the floorboards creak with each step, the windows are all stained and foggy, the wallpaper is torn and chipped in placed, cobwebs lining the corners and walls. but the room is, at least, a bit better than all else. there's a small dusty bed in one corner a dresser in the other. a small window files moonlight into the space, a chipped wooden nightstand to the side of the bed. you help to ease ellie onto the bed, the mattress creaking under her weight.

she tips her head back with a sigh, muscles relaxing against the mattress as she finds herself rather grateful to be able to rest her limbs.

"how's your leg?" you ask her tentatively, standing to the side of the bed wearing a weary expression. you're unsure on how to go about this; do you make jokes as to carry on with the usual badinage or do you take this seriously because she's fucking injured?

ellie glances up, the gentility of your voice almost foreign. when she sees your evident trepidation, she softens and pats the empty space on the mattress beside her. "who's the awkward one now?"

you huff out a laugh, "still you."

you step forward, the floor creaking noisily under your feet. though, if you found the floorboards to be clamorous, the bed is even worse. the mattress squeaks under you, springs poking through the thin material so you can feel them under your butt and thighs. it's extremely uncomfortable, but you say nothing.

ellie watches you closely, her eyes sharp and steady. once you're sitting beside her, your posture awkwardly straightened, she can't help but stare. you're still wearing your heels and frilly burlesque clothes, but your black overcoat shields the attire completely. but she knows what resides underneath and she almost aches to know of it.

"i'm never drinking alcohol again." ellie groans before flopping backward, the bed announcing her every movement. her legs remain hanging off the side, as she lands on her back, auburn hair splayed across the dusty duvet.

"how much did you even have?" you question, leaning back on your hand to loom over her face. "you didn't seem that drunk to me."

"four glasses of gin rickey." she says, narrowing her eyes as she attempts to do the math in her head to puzzle out the percentage. in the end, she gives up and just gazes up at you. "i just wish i was sober for your performance."

your cheeks suddenly feel hot at the insinuation. "it wasn't even that good."

"are you kidding?" she scoffs, in genuine disbelief at your statement. "you were fucking amazing tonight. literally all i could think was 'god, i wish i was sober so she wasn't so goddamn blurry'."

"seriously?" you laugh, unintentionally leaning a bit closer as you're caught up in the incredulous humor of her statement. despite your lack of attention, the act doesn't go unnoticed by ellie. every nerve in her body ignites as your face inadvertently grows nearer, her instincts screaming at her to reach out and touch you; nothing lustful about it, just the pure need to hold you. to be near you.

as your laughter dies down, you notice how close the two of you are. your breath hitches, but you don't move away. ellie looks so perfect like this, under you with her pupils all blown and her hair all unkempt. you find yourself staring at her.

"naked dude statue?" she whispers, the inside joke only adding to the intimacy of the moment.

you nod, eyes flicking between her eyes and her lips. in a whisper, you confirm, "naked guy statue."

honestly, looking back on it, that's a quite strange thing to say before kissing someone for the first time. but then again, nothing about yours and ellie's relationship is necessarily normal. she's your bodyguard and you're an esteemed stripper who sells illegal alcohol, for god's sake. not to mention, it's your second day of knowing each other and ellie has been stabbed with a shard of broken glass via your insane coworker.

but the details hardly matter in the moment of it. because everything else blurs when your lips meet hers, the entire world suddenly gone quiet. it begins gentle, her mouth barely moving as though she's scared to do something wrong. but once the two of you find a mutual rhythm, you're grabbing her face and shifting atop her.

she remains sprawled across the bed as you straddle her hips, knees placed on either side of her body. the kiss ventures farther from unsure benign and closure to vehement desperation. you cradle her face in your hands, her own hands coming up to hold you by the hips.

the flow is suddenly interrupted when you try to shift more comfortably, completely clouded by desire that you don't notice your weight being pressed against her wound. ellie's grip on your hips tightens, the kiss breaking as she yanks her head back in a wince. your eyes widen in realization, guilt gripping you by the throat.

"fuck," you breathe, instantly moving to get off of her, "i'm so sorry."

"no." she says, almost pleadingly. she's still holding you by the hips when she sits up and attempts to guide you back on top of her. "no, i'm fine. don't stop."

your brows furrow. you hurt her, you were so caught up in the moment that you caused her pain. and yet, here she is, just as needy as you in spite of the pain. fucking ellie williams, everyone. laughter bubbles in your chest as you give in, returning to your place atop her lap.

"what?" her cheeks are burning bright red. "are you laughing at me?"

you're still giggling when you press a kiss to her lips, "you're just so perfect."

she's still confused, but doesn't much care for answers when you're kissing her like this. so she simply nods, feigning cognizance as she pulls you impossibly closer to her.

it's just as she reaches to unbutton your coat when the door swings wide open and the innkeeper comes sweeping in, the poor old man unaware. "oh, i forgot to⎯" his words are cut off when he realizes what he'd just walked in on. you and ellie both turn to look at him.

you're sitting on her lap, one of her hands on your chest as the other is on your hip. it's no mistaking what was going on here. the elderly innkeeper curses, covering his eyes before promptly exiting the room and shutting the door behind him, his previous reason for entry completely forgotten.

you and ellie stare at the closed door wordlessly for a split second, only for the silence to be ended by you bursting into laughter. you turn back to ellie, laughing your ass off as she soon joins in. you press your forehead to hers, eyes shut as you struggle to catch your breath. her eyes, on the other hand, remain wide open as she stares at you, admiring the scene before her ⎯ the ambiance of a moonlit motel room, the sound of your melodic laughter, the feel of your body on her lap, the sight of your smile and shut eyes. fucking hell.

when ellie accepted this job, she hadn't expected to be roped into such deep shit. and by 'deep shit' she means falling in love with a vedette.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist @luvsturniolo @kasqnxx @xlovla @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @shawangel @defnoteleonor @fatbootymuncher

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[beelmons]

...uh oh. i may need to politely request this fic:

https://www.tumblr.com/beelmons/727110653210394624/i-feel-this-i-feel-like-spencer-would-only-use

spencer always calls reid by her name and reader is worried that means he doesnt like her as much as she likes him. and poor spencer is just oblivious as to was this matters 😭

It's fine, it's fine.

That's what you kept telling yourself. It's fine that Hotch calls his wife "honey". It's fine that Jennifer gets to be "sweetheart". It's fine that Penelope becomes "baby girl" despite not having any sort of relationship to Morgan whatsoever.

You don't need a pet name from your boyfriend, of course not. No "baby", that's weird, or "angel", that's cringe.

As you were sitting on the couch, sulking about the fact that it clearly annoyed you that Spencer would call you by your name instead of a cutesy petname made up by the two of you, you heard him call from the kitchen.

Once more, using your goddamn name.

"Okay, enough!" you finally blurted out, much to his utter surprise.

"Wha-" he tried to question in an attempt to get to the bottom of your sudden outburst.

"Don't call me by my name anymore, Spencer!" as you were yelling, you had to stand up and walk to the kitchen, where the poor man was holding a milk carton and looking astounded.

It had been a rather domestic day. Cleaning in your underwear, chilling by the couch. He had gotten up from your spot to grab some milk and cookies as an afternoon snack, and had called up on you when he couldn't find said cookies.

Now he was standing in the middle of his kitchen area, trousers and simple startrek t-shirt on, milk in hand, and a yelling girlfriend on his face.

"What's wrong with your name?" he asked with genuine curiosity

"Nothing is wrong with it, but that's not something to call your girlfriend of two years!" you yelled, your tone clearly getting higher.

"Is it not?" he asked once more. Despite his obliviousness seeming feigned to you, it was real to his core.

"I- You're-" you tried to fight back the need to strangle him, figure of speech, of course. Instead, you grunted and pushed on your temples.

However dreamy and kind, your boyfriend was, nonetheless, a man.

Exhasperation took over you over the lack of understanding on the severity of the situation and you knew better than to let yourself talk to him in that state. A resumé of fights and disputes being created by that same reason throughout the time you'd been together. You stomped your way back to the couch, where you simply decided to sit angrily with your arms over your chest.

The silence dragged out for quite a bit while the wheels in his head turned for a way out of this situation. Man, catching a killer was easier than walking through the eggshells you sometimes put out.

"Cinnamon." he simply said. You didn't answer, thinking that he was reciting to himself what he needed now. "That's what your name tastes like on my tongue." he added.

Finally, he earned a look back from you.

Spencer opened the fridge and put back the milk, an object that had lost several degrees of importance in the past few minutes, and walked over to you, taking a seat beside you on the couch and holding one of your hands into his. His touch was gentle, featherlight and quite fearful.

"I think it's due to the fact that I was tasting Penelope's coffee order when you were introduced to me." he continued "I'm sorry if I've come off as insensitive for not calling you a pet name but I had never felt the need for it. I love your name, I think it's a wonderful sound to emit."

It was now time for dialogue, no matter how uncomfortable it made you.

"Well, to me, it feels like you're calling out a friend. Someone who isn't special or remarkable in your life." you explained, your initial defense lowered, thus permiting you to express your insecurities fully.

You saw him make that stupid, adorable confusion face that he usually made. When he was trying hard to find the words to express a feeling he had never experienced before.

"I'm sorry." he simply put out for a second, hence igniting back a bit of your anger "But you see, it's not only the way it feels on my tongue. My heart, it races to levels I don't think are healthy whenever I hear it. My skin, it crawls with anticipation when it appears on my phone screen." he added "Your name is unique no matter how many people on this earth share it with you, and I could probably tell you how many exactly are there but I doubt you want to hear it right now." he had to clear his throat for a second "To me your name holds no other meaning but the one of pure love and happiness, so, to you it might appear I'm calling on to someone random but to me..." Spencer had to pause to put his head in order "...feels like I'm calling home."

You didn't realize your grip had tightened on his hand. Your eyes locked as he spoke had grown a couple of tears along the way. You were pulled, tentatively, into your boyfriend's arms, and there you remained for more minutes than you could have counted.

It's fine. Just your name is fine, as long as it's from his lips.

[mamayura]

Adrien not knowing what he wants

Hot take about Werepapas, I guess:

I actually like that Adrien said "I don't know" when asked what he wants/ who he wants to go with at the end of "Werepapas"

Cause the people who had to learn and come around in this episode's conflict were the ADULTS, not Adrien.

Adrien has already said that he isn't alone, he's living with Nathalie,

and Milly, too, acknowledged right away that Adrien has known her for most of his life so for Adrien she should count as more much than just an employee by now.

And he has not been trying to hide it whatsoever from Nathalie how much she means to him and that he wants to keep living with her. Literally the first thing we see in the episode's present time is Adrien running to Nathalie for comfort when hes crying over his dead mom, but she's pulling back so he does too eventually.

Marinette as pretty much unrelated main character doesnt know about this when she enters the conflict. Hence why she can effectively bring about development in Nathalie by challenging her long-established mind set and dynamic with Adrien due to Marinette's perspective adding a new angle and shacking things up:

Nathalie's inner conflict is one of my favourite things about the episode (and needs its own post if I get around to it), but for the context of this post, yes, she was the one who needed to come around. Not Adrien. He was already there from the get-go as we can see by him repeating the hug he started the episode with. Just now, Nathalie hugged back:

It was nice seeing Marinette help Nathalie take on her role in the end because Nathalie did the same thing Marinette did in Illustrhater for example. Acting like and saying things that eventually made Adrien accept that they don't want to be with him because, duh, that's now interactions work.

That's why he initially didn't say that he wants to stay with Nathalie in Paris when asked in the end. Nathalie too made him feel like he has to accept that that won't be an option, so he knew he had to decide between his grandparents:

The same Grandparents who had to come around in the end, too, and allow for Adrien to stay with Nathalie in Paris, even though both pairs of Grandparents are still the ones to officially hold the legal custody of Adrien (which I'm glad about that they did it like this and didn't bullshit some reason for Nathalie to get custody cause the episode is right, Nathalie has NO right to Adrien's custody whatsoever. They went with a very reasonable way to resolve this)

Its the ADULTS who had to come around. Not Adrien. Adrien already made it clear all episode what he wanted. But because all involved adults declared the outcome he wanted as a non-option, well, he honestly says that he doesn't know what else he wants (who he wants to go with).

And I- I just really like that Adrien was taking the situation serious enough to say "I don't know". That was very mature of him. To not just go with SOMETHING or go on about how unfair the situation is. Cause it definitely was, but this is a very serious legal matter that COULDN'T stay unresolved. He's an orphaned minor currently living alone with a person who's said to neither be an option as his guardian nor does she herself treat it like an option. This day COULDN'T end without at least some kind of temporary solution where he would stay now. It just couldn't.

I LIKE that he didn't repeat his denied desire that was already known to everyone around and instead seriously thought about the options he had.

I like that he loves and respects Nathalie enough to be the one person amongst Emilie, Gabriel, and now Marinette, too, who left the decision to HER if she wants to take on the position of his new mother:

As much as he wants to be with her, Adrien was characterized to understand that this is a massive thing to ask of Nathalie. He knows he means alot to her too but Nathalie was, by all accounts, objectively forced into this:

But especially by Emilie (look, I know she was literally dying slowly and painfully, I'm not judging her for wanting Adrien to be loved and taken care of. But I gotta ackowlegde that Emilie put alot on Nathalie without giving her a choice first):

In that regard I can't fault Nathalie for not having acted on her motherly feelings for Adrien and Emilie's last wish earlier than s5 (but God DAMN Nathalie, there is a difference between not doing it and actively making everything so much fucking worse!).

Adrien is the one person in this who respected how much was asked of Nathalie, so when she continuously acted like she didn't wanted to take on the role, he respected that. But this also means that the person who's responsible for Adrien coming to this "wrong" conclusion was Nathalie. Not Adrien. He's only acting accordingly to her actions and words:

So I like that Marinette got to help her in the end, because this is passive development that's very relevant to Marinette's character too. Even if I wished the show would hold Marinette to the same standards since both in Adrinette and especially Ladynoir Adrien gets mostly blamed for coming to the logical conclusions that Maribug doesn't like him or being with him in any way doesn't mean much to her because that's how she constantly acts like in almost every conflict ever. Over and over again. So I like that it was done properly this time around even if it's obvious that that was only possible because it was Nathalie and not Marinette.

And yes, I totally get not liking that Marinette is taking over the whole moment again. I'm not much of a fan of it either, to put it nicely. But it is wrong to say that Marinette is the one making the decision here and Adrien had no agency in deciding who he's staying with. Marinette is merely repeating old news she knows are true because that's what Adrien has been saying and acting like the whole episode and even already since season 5.

The decision was long made by Adrien. It were the adults who had to come around.

And beyond that,

I LIKE that Adrien said "I don't know" to the question which grandparents he wants to go with instead of the show having him make it all about his friends, girlfriend, or Ladybug. He only brings that up when he gets to stay:

Cause the question of where he would feel more at home and what is best for his future, when he has to completely start anew, is not just about his current friends, girlfriend, or his secret hero partner (who has made every precaution and decision possible to not actually have or need him in her life and job and he was made to accept that fully because that's her "rightful professionalism" same as killing your bf Ig)

I like that it was "I don't know" instead of "but my friends!", "but my girlfriend!", or "but I can't leave!".

Adrien saying "I don't know" means he thought of himself first and foremost and not everyone else:

I even like that "I don't know" means that he took the Graham de Vanilys into consideration despite how awful Emil was. Cause when the outcome Adrien WANTED (keeping his life in Paris by living with Nathalie) isn't an option, then he's perfectly in his right to not write off the possibilities he has with the Graham de Vanilys in London (and good heavens, I'm glad nothing ever brought up "but Chloé is in London! YIKES!").

I like that Adrien didnt write anything off when the decision was possibly about to change his whole future. Yes, saying "I dont know what I want" is a perfectly valid and even mature answer for a 14 year old orphan to give when they were JUST this day confronted with this situation that denied him the option he actually wanted:

And I also like that Marinette in the end didn't wasnt made to make Adrien's answer about herself in an usual moment of panic (in general, I truly LOVED how supportive Marinette was in Werepapas, even if the akuma battle incident is forever burnt in my love square heart in a very negative way. Yes, I think being willing to kill your boyfriend without trying any other solution first is bad, sue me ig. if that's what I'll be judged for, then I can live with it).

It is a far cry from Marinette in Representation for example being mostly written to make not getting to have her boyfriend near her out to be the biggest tragedy of Adrien being send to another country for good. I'm glad she got to be the supportive girlfriend for once instead of the show forcibly trying to falsely make her out to be the most important person affected by Adrien's tragic life. It was so refreshing and wonderful to watch Marinette getting to be in the lovingly supporting role of the relationship for a change, and it does WONDERS for her characterization.

While, of course, Marinette was motivated all episode to help Adrien not having to leave, when Adrien said "I don't know" Marinette knew that he's only taking the other options this seriously now because he can't have the option he actually wants.

She wasn't written to go into panic mode the second she heard Adrien NOT saying that staying in Paris is the most important thing on his mind. She knew the problem was laying elsewhere, even if I wished she hadnt made it abuut the Grandparents, but Adrien's right to CHOOSE (and yes, I'm fully aware that people will write this whole post off as salt because I didnt ignore or handwave away Marinette's consistent CANON characterization, even though that's not how salt works. I stand to what I said. More of Marinette as supportive girlfriend please, then we wouldnt have these problems)

I don't know how to end this with a nice little bow to wrap it up. I just REALLY like that Adrien said "I don't know", and how the episode treated the custody conflict for 95% of the plot which is very good for Miraculous.

[bethelighthalazia]

Terrifying

Summary:  Your gentle giant of a boyfriend Yunho doesn't always know how strong he is. This is proven during a fight between you two when he throws his guitar.

Genre: angst

Pairing: bf!Yunho X fem!reader

Word Count:  1944

Warnings: mean Yunho, arguing, swearing

networks: @mirohs-aurora-society

© by bethelighthalazia. Do not repost, copy or translate. Unless stated otherwise, those works are mine and born from my own ideas. I don't have any claim on the mentioned real existing Idols whatsoever.

It was late in the evening when your boyfriend of two years arrived home from practice. You had cooked his favorite for him and then waited for his return. In the morning, he had said his schedule would end at 6 pm today. Now, it was almost 11 pm. The table set, you had waited patiently, but when Yunho didn't come home at 8, you resorted to the sofa, curling up on it with Yunho's hoodie he left laying there in the morning.

You didn't notice the keys jingle in the lock, nor did you hear your boyfriend enter the shared apartment. You fell asleep only a few minutes after you had laid down on the sofa and were now deeply asleep. Yunho only let out a tired sigh when he noticed you, he didn't mean to be this late, dance practice took longer than he had hoped. Seeing the set table, he then quietly put the food away into the fridge, so the two of you could eat it the next day. Contemplating whether to move you to the shared bed or leave you on the sofa, Yunho's decision is made the moment you shuffle. He gently picked you up and then set you down on the king sized bed in the bedroom, covering you with a blanket and then left to take a shower.

The next morning, you woke up cuddled against Yunho's large frame, a soft smile on your face, but then you remember the last evening, he again came home much later than he had told you. How many times did he promise you to be home early, but then break this promise. But you never said anything, because you knew that he works hard, it's normal to have late work and practice as an idol. You know that. Then why did a tear steal its way from your eyes? Why did it upset you that he came home this late last night?

Because it was your anniversary. Because it's the second time this year that he forgot such an important date. First your birthday, now your anniversary. 

You tried to be quiet, to suppress the sob that built up in your chest, but his strong arms around you didn't let you leave the bed. Swallowing hard, you tried to shuffle out of his grip, but this movement woke him up too, causing you to wince mentally.

“Morning, love…” He hummed with his usual sleepy voice which, on any other day, would have made you smile, but today it just brought another tear from your eyes. You didn't turn around, just whispered “Morning Yuyu” and curled up. This actually made him frown,you usually would smile at him, turn around to kiss him and then cuddle and try to make him stay in bed with you. “You have schedules today, you should get ready soon.” A look at the alarm clock on your nightstand confirms your words, but Yunho shook his head behind you. “We don't have any schedules today and the next two days, so we can spend the day together.” 

Normally you'd be happy about those words, but this morning, you just couldn't. “Okay, let's do that. Are you hungry?” Even your voice lacked the usual enthusiasm, even though you're trying to be happy to have your boyfriend home and for yourself for three days. And of course Yunho would notice this, turning you around, so he could look into your face while talking. The sight of your tears lets him stop and frown though. “Are- why are you crying, love? Are you in pain?” His voice filled with concern, he doesn't even realize that he's the reason you're crying this morning. 

“Y- you really forgot, hm?” It's a simple question and while you swallow down the disappointment and hurt, you manage to give him a little, almost crooked smile. “It's okay though, you had a hard week, it's not your fault, Yuyu. We can celebrate it next year.” Those words cause his eyes to go wide. The dinner he had put away, you on the sofa, it slowly falls in place. It had been your anniversary and he really did forget about it. 

Although, after only a few seconds, his shocked expression turns into a frown, then into something that looks angry or annoyed. “You know that my work will always be like this, y/n. I have to practice and sometimes it makes me come home late. You knew this from the beginning.” He said, leaning back a bit to look at you, which leaves you with confusion. 

“I know that, Yuyu, that's why I said it's okay, I don't-” “Then why are you acting like I'm the bad guy now?” He cut you off, which is unusual for him. He always listened to you, never interrupting you when you spoke before. Swallowing to not start to cry in front of him now, you just nod and get up from the bed, but he grabbed your wrist. Not the usual gentle way though, his grip was a bit harsher this time.

“Hey, we’re talking, I asked you something, y/n.” Frozen in place, you just stay at the edge of the bed, swallowing down a sob before you try to answer confidently, but your words only come out in a whispered voice. “I didn't, Yuyu…please, your grip hurts.” You didn't look at Yunho, somehow scared of him at this moment, but thankfully he lets go of your wrist. The shuffling behind you caused you to wince, but he had turned his back to you when he sat on the edge of his side of the bed, so you quickly made your way to the bathroom. When the door closes behind you, you could hear a loud thump, he had slammed his hand on the nightstand with a little annoyed growl.

When you came out, he wasn't in the bedroom anymore, so you made your way to the living room, where Yunho sat on the sofa, playing a game on his console. He still looked angry, so you let him be and walked to the kitchen area, where you saw all the food from last night thrown away. “Yuyu, did you-” You started, turning to leave the kitchen, but you almost ran into him. “Why did you throw it away?” It was a simple question from you, but for some reason, it flipped something inside him, an annoyed look on his face again.

“Another thing to nag me about? It's not really edible, so I threw it out. Hand me that water, so I can go back to my game.” Nag him? You never nagged him about anything, where was this coming from now? “Yuyu, I-” “Yuyu, I. You what? Looking for another reason to cry about?” He mocked, pushing past you to grab a bottle of water from the fridge before leaving the kitchen again, leaving you standing there, wondering what was wrong with him today.

You didn't know why he was like this, but you didn't like him talking to you like this, when you supported him all the time and never complained about anything to him. After a few moments, you follow him, swallowing the lump in your throat and stand in front of the TV now. You could hear the sound of his character dying in the game, but you didn't care. That is, until he stood in one move and started yelling. 

“What the fuck, y/n?? You just ruined hours of playing!” It's the first time ever that he's yelling at you and it hurts. “I don't care, Yunho! What's wrong with you today?” You're not yelling, the shakiness of your voice present as you try to speak up, tears already welling up in your eyes, but you don't cry. Yet.

“What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? You wake up and cry about me being late, then you nag at me. Don't you think you should be happy that I'm working hard?!” You never before witnessed him this angry, and for the first time in the years you know him, you're scared of Yunho. “You know how fucking hard it is to always go to work, let everyone walk over me while I'm always nice to everyone? Be told that I have to practice more, to be perfect?!”

With only a few steps, he walks over to grab his guitar, holding it up. “And then, I come home later because I did fucking practice, and it's not good enough! No, my girlfriend has to cry about me forgetting to be home in time for dinner.” “It's not about the dinner, Yunho! I told you it's okay, why are you yelling at me now?” You tried to talk back, your voice isn't nearly as loud and stable as you had hoped though. “Why am i- maybe because I'm fuckin tired of you making me to be the bad guy here?! If it's okay and just dinner, why do you have to cry about it?!” With those words, he lets out his built up anger, throwing his guitar at the TV. With you standing near it, you flinch, eyes widen and when both things break and pieces split off and hit you, you can't hold back the sobs. 

The moment Yunho threw the guitar, he realized what he did, his eyes widened in shock, real shock this time. Not only about your sobs, but also because he hurt you. All the anger subsided immediately and he took a careful step towards you, but you just flinched and stumbled backwards. “Y/n, I- I'm sorry, I didn't-” He whispered, his voice a stark contrast against the yelling only moments earlier. You knew he meant this, but you're terrified, dropping onto the floor in a sitting position as sobs shake your body and tears just run free. You didn't even register the pain yet from where the little pieces of debris had hurt you, nor did you care about them bleeding a bit.

“Please, let me- let me take a look…you're hurt, love-” You heard his voice, but only shook your head no, still crying. Letting out a heavy sigh followed by an own sob, Yunho quickly reached for his phone, calling his best friend and putting him on speaker the moment Mingi picked up. “Yunho? Yah, why do you wake me?” Mingi sounded as if he just woke up, but when he heard your quiet crying through the phone, he sat up in his bed, fully awake. “Is y/n crying? Wha-” “Yes, she is…can you come here? Right now?” It didn't need any more words for Mingi to hang up and hurry to rush into the apartment not even five minutes later. The apartment was not far from the dorms, which came in handy this time. However, when Mingi walked into the living room, he froze in place, seeing the shattered TV, the broken guitar and you sitting on the floor, crying and hurt.

He quickly stepped over to you, noticing you flinch when Yunho made the tiniest of movements. Mingi knew that Yunho always bottles up his anger and sometimes it just has to burst out, this time, it seems to have happened around you, which Yunho always tried to avoid. “Hey, it's okay y/nnie, I'm here. He won't hurt you, okay?” Mingi whispered, gently checking your wounds, which are merely little scratches and nothing too deep. Then, he picked you up to carry you to the bedroom, gathered some of your things before just carrying you out of the apartment and took you to the dorms with him. 

taglist: @mingis-mizu, @tinyelfperson, @hotteokkay, @minkiliciouss, @bunnliix, @gong-fourz

(if you want to be added to a taglist, follow the taglist-link in my pinned post)

[thewertsearch]

TG: the song isnt even supposed to be released for another year or something TG: but i got it from an inside source

And here’s Betty herself, pushing 100 and still kicking. Not too surprising, given that she’s a member of an unknown species.

Alright – why would she do this? Is she following some sort of plan? Who could possibly have a vested interest in driving Gamzee to a breakd

...nah, I'm just screwing with you.

It's Scratch. It's always Scratch. He’s been pushing these kids’ buttons from the very beginning, keeping them out of action at key moments, preventing them from interfering with the dominoes he’s been setting up for centuries upon centuries. He'll win, he's winning, and he's won.

This guy has had the entire story on lockdown since aeons before it started. There is no doubt in my mind whatsoever that Betty Crocker is just his latest pawn.

TC: I REALLY JUST CAME BACK ON YOU TO MOTHER FUCKING SAY. TC: that while that sickening noise you did at me is your fault TC: THERE'S SOMETHING I DID AT YOU WHAT'S MINE. TC: i did something that's motherfucking atrocious to your posse. TC: MADE YOUR WHOLE CREW OF JOKERS GET TO BEING KINDA MENTALLY MOTHER FUCKIN TC: unstable.

Wait, what?

...Gamzee, what did you do?

TC: IN FUCKING FACT TC: that atrocious business i got to doing TC: I DID THAT SHIT TO YOUR WHOLE UNIVERSE AS A MATTER OF MOTHER FUCKING FACT.

What the fuck did you do?

TC: i finally got all caught up in what's true behind the sweet murdermirth of the bitchin bloodcircus. TC: I REACHED DEEP DOWN AND GOT AT WHERE ALL THE REAL HARSHWHIMSIES WERE HIDING INSIDE ME. TC: in the angriest ways i found up my dark ancestral chucklevoodoos within. TC: AND THEN

What in the fresh fucking hell did you-

Absolutely no fucking way.

TC: i focused on them through the rage you made me have TC: AND I WENT AND MADE YOUR UNIVERSE...

TC: terminal. Bo)

YOU!!

YOU DID THIS TO US!

IT WAS ALL YOU, GAMZEE!

You caused John’s nightmares! You're the reason he scrawled clowns on his wall, the reason his father filled his house with harlequins fresh for the prototyping! You're the one who caused Jack’s ascension, and his second, even worse ascension - and you're the reason he's currently discharging the full force of the Green Sun's fury into our frog!

You murdered their fucking universe!

[cup1dluvhss]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ INTO YOU (P1), written by cup1dluvhs

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ after making a small appearance on freakshow in july of 2021 after you begged your mutual friend, claire, to come on, you can’t help but take interest in a certain someone who seems to show the same interest in you. after years of never speaking again, you make an appearance on your other friend mandy’s channel with claire, and after seeing this, that same boy you once knew all those years ago invites you onto his channel with his best friend to record a video.

| warnings: fluff, kinda angsty if u squint, a little smutty + happy ending (this applies for the whole story, so you won’t see much of certain things in this part such as angst or smut)

| taking requests!

| this imagine will be split up into two parts, so i’ll have the other part out soon !

you opened your laptop eagerly, switching on the power button and running a hand through your long hair. after months of begging claire, your fifteen year old mutual friend to make an appearance on her youtube channel, freakshow, she had finally agreed.

claire made zoom call videos with a particular topic each video with three other people whom were all older than her, and you had watched some of their videos and found yourself invested enough to want to meet all of them.

you had been friends with claire for just a few months, and had met her through tiktok where you both became friends quickly. despite you being seventeen, and she only fifteen, you still got along like there was no age difference whatsoever.

despite finding their channel amusing, that wasn’t the only reason you wanted to come on. hamzah, a nineteen year old boy with curly hair and eyes so dark you’d think they were black, had you hooked. every-time you watched one of their videos, your eyes always found themselves looking at him in the top right corner.

nerves began to overcome you when you realised that you’d actually be meeting him, but you knew the only way to do it was to play it cool and act as if you had no idea who he was.

a text from claire appeared on your screen, with a link to the zoom meeting. your hands instantly went to your mouth and you began chewing on your nails absent mindlessly, your mouse hovering over the link. before you clicked it, you looked in the mirror in front of you and fluffed up your hair, adjusting your lipliner and playing with your mascara-coated eyelashes until they were spaced enough to your liking.

before you could find anything else that was wrong with your appearance, you clicked on the link and were brought to the meeting.

you smiled gingerly as you found they were all there waiting for you, chase, haley, claire, and hamzah. a lump formed in your throat as you waited for claire to introduce you to the others, your hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear so you would look so awkward just sitting there.

‘everyone, this is y/n. she’s my friend, so don’t be mean to her. she’s also seventeen and a minor so no swearing.’ claire said, a laugh exiting your mouth as you waved at the camera in front of you, chase and haley copying your action with a friendly smile.

‘hi y/n, hamzah says has a surprise today, so i hope you’re ready.’ haley said, before taking a sip from a diet coke before putting it back down on her desk.

‘oh really? what’s going on?’ you asked, trying your best to sound confident and enthusiastic as you spoke. you completely avoided looking at hamzah, knowing fine well if you did you’d be stuttering and slipping over your words.

‘we’re getting some therapist to come on and talk to us about stuff. i know it sounds boring, but we make it funny.’ chase said, his eyes off the screen and keyboard clacking as you observed him. everyone was being so nice, but you couldn’t help but notice hamzah hadn’t said a word to you yet.

‘hamzah? are u muted?’ claire asked, and the second the words came out of her mouth, hamzah’s attention snapped back to the screen, and he cleared his throat.

‘uh—what?’ he asked, the deepness of his voice making the hair on your arms stand up. you were embarrassed to say even his voice made you nervous.

‘hamzah, we have a guest, don’t be rude.’ claire said, tilting her head at him, your heart beating faster when you saw his eyes flicker toward you, a smile finding its way onto his face.

‘what’s up, y/n.’ he said with a wink, leaving you biting your lip to prevent yourself from smiling a little too wide. your cheeks were already red enough from the minute you joined, but now, you didn’t even want to know how flustered you must’ve looked.

‘hey.’ you said, your voice neutral and composed as you gave him a polite smile, claire’s eyebrows furrowing as she observed the two of you on the screen. she chose not to say anything, but she knew what was going on.

within the next thirty minutes, you didn’t think you’d laughed so hard in your life. chase, haley, claire and hamzah were all very different people, but when they were put together, whether talking or joking, they were extremely entertaining.

you had tried your best to fit in with them, your cheeks heating up every-time hamzah laughed at a joke you made or something you had said. you were already following him on instagram, and after seeing how he must’ve taken a liking to you, you were half considering just texting him. would it be so weird, considering you had just filmed a video with him? were you friends now?

when the meeting ended and you said goodbye to all of them, you pulled out your phone and noticed that almost immediately hamzah had followed you back. you swallowed, finding that chase and haley had followed you as well less than a second or two after.

you did like him, and you wanted to get to know him, but you could never make the first move. it just wasn’t in your programming, which is probably why you’d never really had a serious or long term relationship before.

you only hoped he was the type to do the opposite and just go for it, because you were getting embarrassingly desperate to talk to him. you’d thought of just asking claire to ask him what he thought about you, but you knew that wouldn’t settle well with her.

with a sigh, you closed your laptop and put your phone face down on your bed, turning away from them.

[boop-le-snoot]

kinktober #1

Lovesong

kinktober day one | daddy kink | cw: 18+, self-explanatory. actually rather vanilla-ish. he is sweet. no violence whatsoever. | word count 3,2k | click here for full list of planned fics | author's note under the cut |

Clean water. A bedroll that didn't reek of mildew and filthy iron. Clean clothing, practically a luxury in current circumstances. The villager who had brought it was a small, mousy thing with a baby strapped to her chest, with it being the probable reason uruks left her alone and let her pass throughout the camp unbothered. The southern folk had a variety of coloured fabrics unlike anything encountered by most non-nobles in the West lands. Including you.

You carefully wrapped up your new clothes in your threadbare towel and gathered your necessities before exiting your temporary dwelling. A nearby uruk gave you an appraising glance and, having received your nod, gestured in the appropriate direction. It was not a secret you were a favourite amongst the many slaves and servants. Truthfully, you were never a slave in the first place, but those were semantics that hardly mattered. You worked for your keep like everyone else.

The bathing area was guarded by two Uruks, ones you knew, and they knew you. Greetings were exchanged and the two traded a quick salacious glance as they let you pass through the thick shrubbery surrounding the pools of hot springs. It was a blessing for your party to stumble upon them during your wandering through the Southlands.

Despite their normal state of battle-rugged filth, Uruks did like to bathe. Sure, their standards of cleanliness were much different from humans, and even further than those of Elves, but such was their wild nature. Uruks could be no more at fault for their habits than races considered noble.

It was this realisation that brought you to know the strange scarred Elf sat sprawled against the side of the basin. At least you guessed he was an Elf, or had been, at some point. His rangy, sharp features and pointed ears coupled with the scarring covering every inch of his body made for a mesmerising view. Like a difficult puzzle, he elicited feelings of awe, wonder and trepidation. His eyes opened, two angular slits, and surveyed your approaching form.

On silent feet and watched by his bottomless pools of liquid onyx, you briskly deposited your items on a nearby stone and slid out of your filthy, ragged clothes. The only thing that was subject to salvage was underwear. Relief washed over you as warm, dry air gently touched your bare skin slick with stale sweat and dirt.

“Melmë.” He spoke up suddenly. Water splashed over the edges.

“Adar,” you replied, bowing your head respectfully.

The final article of clothing - a pair of underwear - slid swiftly down your legs. You hurried to step into the pool, acutely aware the way Adar's silent appraisal of your body sent shivers down your flesh. Having spent so long in an Uruk camp, self-consciousness was a thing of the past.

It was anticipation that coiled in your tummy. Expectant, you dunked underwater to wet your hair and run fingers through it to dislodge any debris. Arms connected with your torso, bringing you up above the water. Adar's chest, all lean, textured skin, connected with your back. Where the water was lukewarm, he was pleasantly warm. His palms slid over your chest, brushing past your erect nipples with a petal-soft touch.

You sighed. Adar rumbled.

“Have you forgotten your manners?” His voice resonated throughout your skull as a wry observation.

In truth, you did. The mere prospect of feeling clean had overshadowed everything else in your mind, giving you tunnel vision. Even now, faced well with the prospect of punishment, you could hardly care. Hardly focus on anything beside the scent of soap and, perhaps, the slowly hardening appendage twitching at your rear. You hummed non-commitally and hummed some more when Adar's arms tightened up to keep you in place.

“What you say?” Voice lower, harsher, his strong arms squeezed you just shy of painful.

“I did forget my manners,” you chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating a clever plan to evade Adar's grasp and make a dash for the soap.

“...” Impatient rumble, hand sneaking to none-too-gently grope at your breast.

“Adar!” You quickly added, halting the hand and turning touch towards gentle. Electric sparks shot through your nipple as Adar toyed with it, flicking the hardened nub with the calloused pad of his thumb. You sighed, locking your hips in place. There was a limit to misbehaving.

Somewhat of a theatrical sigh left the Uruk. “You must apologise and make amends, melmë,” he chided, switching his hands to award your other nipple the same arduous torture. A lick of flame burnt bright in the pit of your belly and Adar instantly knew of it, having brought a large hand to press your hips against his own, daring you to push back.

“I am sorry,” you sputtered. For forgetting to greet him properly, yes, but not for wanting a bath. You remained frozen, awaiting a rough grab or a harsh tweak to your abused breast, heart fluttering somewhere in your throat.

It didn't come. Instead, you felt the ghost of a smile brush over the shell of your ear. “There. Was it truly difficult?” The rumble of his voice curved around your budding arousal and pushed it towards forefront.

“No, Adar,” you said. It sounded very close to petulant whining.

It only seemed to amuse him further. He did not laugh, no, but nonetheless the splashing of water was joined by a terse, scratchy noise. A rich sound you echoed with the ghost of a grin.

“Well, then.” Adar released your hip and reached somewhere behind himself.

All business-like, he brought the object in front of you and released your breast to rub it in between his palms underwater. Scents of pine and lye made you sigh in relief and happiness as water foamed. As Adar's hands connected with your skin to drag the fragrant bar along your stomach, your shoulders dropped.

Slowly, he scrubbed at the soft parts of your front. Palms applied gentle pressure, scrubbing away the grime, with fingertips trailing behind, blunt nails raking over clean skin, leaving discoloured lines that disappeared as soon as they were made. Not leaning into the touch was not an option. Your breasts pushed forward, you shamelessly threw your head back and to the side, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Adar's wet black tresses smelled of smoke on the water. Swallowing the urge to nose at the strong line of his jaw, you pushed yourself further into his hands as they slid up, cleansing your sides and ribcage. Your nipples stood proud and hard, peeking just above the water. Patient as ever, Adar slid the soap once, twice over your breasts and moved on to scrub under your collarbones.

“Adar...” You mumbled, breasts tingling.

“Patience is a virtue,” he chuffed, taking a sharp dive down. He traced your hipbones, squeezed and rubbed the meat on top of them before using them as handles to make you take a step forward. Grumbling, you did, and were rewarded with a pinching squeeze at your ass cheek and a click of his tongue. “Impertinent!”

As Adar's hands made quick work of your neck and back, you mumbled. “I am sorry. It has been such a long time...” You trailed off into a mewl as he squeezed the back of your neck as if you were a misbehaving kitten. It never ceased to make your knees weak. There was something so - possessive, commanding - impertinent, damn it! In that gesture. A new wave of heat flooded your face. Whether one borne of indignation or pleasure was yet to be determined by you.

Adar could read you like an open book in any case. He pretended not to notice the audible hitch in your breath whenever he lost his temper and did something particularly audacious. Like now, for example, when he finished stripping the outermost layer of your skin and abruptly pulled you into himself, backing up all the way to the shallow end of the pool. Your pebbling nipples ignored and hips securely held by his lithe, strong arms, you found yourself sat firmly atop his lap.

The basic instinct was to slam your knees together, irregardless of his long legs falling open and his twitching length slipping along your center. Adar allowed no such luxury. With an ease clearly mocking, he pried open your legs to hang over his as he splayed comfortably in shallow waters. Soapy water dulled the sensation somewhat but did nothing to cool the sheer heat coming from his half-erect cock. Squirming, you were rewarded with another twitch and an irritated rumble.

“Melmë.” A warning.

“Adar.” A breathed acknowledgement. A mewling squeal, really.

He tsk-ed and shook his head, followed by a low mumble of quenya that got past your ears when he used his palms to glide over the inside of your thighs right to where he was most wanted.

“Stay still.” He commanded, unvoiced threat obvious in his voice. “We are getting clean.”

“No funny business,” you muttered demurely, moreso to remind yourself. Adar's punishment was never outright cruel - despite his supposed ‘universally evil’ nature he did not ever take unwilling lovers or bestow harm upon them they did not ask for. He did get creative with enforcing consequences, though. His patience was of an Elven standard.

As for punishment, so for praise. Being and staying good was by far more rewarding than riling him up into a lustful frenzy. You sat patiently, choking down every shiver, as he slowly, tenderly massaged the fat above your pubic bone and squeezed the plump parts of your cunt. Even with so little stimulation, little zaps of lightning, miniature thunderbolts erupted from your clit and into the depths of your cunt.

Your eyelashes fluttered, wet and heavy, and you closed your eyes with a sigh, allowing your body to fall lax atop the tall male. He responded with a long, satisfied sigh and a teasing pat to your pussy. Continuing his clever ministrations, Adar was fully prepared for the jerk that him dipping two fingers between your outer lips provoked in your body.

“Talya,” he whispered, hot breath caressing the shell of your ear. Steady.

“Adar!” You whined, embarrassed. Being spoken to as if you were a spooked horse: a new low even for you. The wave of lust it elicited was undeniable. You weren't fully ready to submit to it just yet. Neither was it going to forsake you: with your clit held firmly between Adar's fingers, shameful lust throbbed.

“Lapta, melmë.” He released your clit to dip down to your entrance, creeping lower, past the tender skin of your perineum, and brushed over your puckered rosebud. You could not hold back the whine. “Sshh,” Adar rumbled gently, but relented, bringing his wandering hand back up to rest over your cunt as his cock, now standing tall and proud, poked at the junction of your leg and hip.

Begging every God for Adar to do something and fighting every urge to squirm and press against nearest available surface, you panted loud, aware of his dark eyes intently studying the side of your face. Every look cut sharper than Elvish make blades; you dared not to open your eyes, instead remaining lax-mouthed and knit-browed under Adar's scrutiny.

The longer you waited, the harder he became. When your bottom lip disappeared under your incisor - a small act of rebellion - you felt Adar's own lips stretch into a grin against your temple.

“You are being so good for me,” he said. The pace of his hand atop your mound picked up slightly, parting your outer lips in the process. He was almost touching your clit and you were almost going insane. “Do you feel clean?”

“Yes, Adar,” you said quickly, thoughtlessly. Whatever he was asking for, the answer would be yes irregardless.

“Are you certain?” The male absent-mindedly rubbed his cheek over yours, as if he was deep in important thought. A soft gasp erupted from you; he smiled. “We must be through with what we do, melmë.” His fingers - O Valar! - finally dipped inside tour slit and massaged the sides of your clit. The slippery wetness that surrounded it was unmistakable even underwater. Adar's cock twitched, again, hot and demanding against your leg. “You must tell me if I was thorough.”

“Ah, yes, Adar!” You moaned brokenly as he rubbed the V of his index and middle finger over your clit, rising the hood of it up and down but not quite touching the sensitive pearl itself. “T-thank you, Adar.”

The pace picked up, his fingers being much too close to where you wanted him most and tortuously not enough.

“You are thankful?” He inquired impishly.

“Yesss,” you hissed as a slippery finger accidentally connected with your pearl, causing your whole pelvis to clench pitifully around nothing. It brought your focus towards the empty, achy feeling in the pit of your belly. “Thank you, Adar.”

A quick, silent kiss to your temple was your reward. “Ah!” He huffed. “You are too good to me, melmë. What about your reward?”

“M-my reward?” You gasped.

“Mhm,” Adar hummed non-commitally as his cock jerked in curiosity.

Any reward for you in this scenario was guaranteed to be pleasurable for him and he knew it. He moulded you like putty in his hands, like a sculptor carved angels out of hard blocks of marble. Your body, warm with arousal and quivering at the most miniscule of touches, sang to him in a choir of rushing blood, flushed cheeks and thrumming pulse in areas most sensitive.

Engorged with need, your clit pulsed. Although your head was fogged by an opaque haze, the words of your deepest desire did not come easy.

“Um,” you said eloquently, words tangling on your tongue as soon as your lust-addled mind formulated them into something resembling a coherent sentence.

“Yes?”

This particular whine you could not contain. “Please do not make me say it, Adar...” You whispered wetly.

He chuckled. “How else am I supposed to find out what it is you desire? I cannot read minds, melmë.” He answered, voice tilted, mocking and encouraging in equal parts. Another “accidental” brush over your clit had you in shambles, quivering and stuttering where you sat.

“I want... You inside of me,” you moaned in shameful yearning.

Two long fingers had no problems with finding the puffy edges to your welcoming entrance and curled expertly. It did very little to quell the hunger in the very depths of it but your cunt held onto the digits nonetheless. Adar's cock pulsed as his hips shifted, seemingly, on their own accord and disobedient to their stoic master's will. Adar was rapidly losing his patience.

“N-no,” you protested. “I want...”

“You want my cock?” Voice like thick crushed velvet, molten like hot honey, Adar demanded your obedience. “Carpa! Say it!”

“I want your cock, Adar!” You whined, giving into the urge to bear down on his fingers and simultaneously clench up around them.

It wasn't particularly graceful nor gentle when Adar withdrew his fingers from your aching cunt and lifted you out of the bath just enough for your ass to be raised above water level. Resting your forearms on the hard ground, you blindly pushed back towards him, your bare cunt coming in contact with his hip. Within seconds the blunt, leaking tip of his cock was nosing at your entrance, silken head parting your lips to slip inside of you.

The ache within your loins was strong. Powerful enough for you to forsake any pretense of patience and propriety and impale yourself right on that long, solid cock so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs. At last! The vast emptiness within you filled, your back fell into a natural arch as your buttocks connected with the firmness of Adar's hips and thighs. You felt the deep, calming breath he took as his belly expanded with it.

A muttered curse preceded the drag of his cock as Adar withdrew, slowly, savouring the hug of your slick walls swollen and throbbing with need. Inadvertedly you clenched in response, already missing the head of his cock nestled deep within your cunt. It was all the encouragement he needed to slam inside of you with a feral growl baring his teeth and putting the whites of his eyes on display.

You moaned, long and loud, way exceeded in your capacity to care for the harsh surface hurting the delicate skin of your forearms. Only the steady push and pull of Adar's hips kept you tethered in this reality. Not the ominously shaking bushes and not the low rumble of the ever-awake Uruk campsite derailed you from the journey to your peak.

Adar's hands palmed - no, pawed at your breasts. He tweaked your nipples just the way you liked it, pistoning his hips in and out of you at a rapid pace. Savouring your moans and clenching of your cunt around him. Groaning with the force of your combined desire, jagged and jumbled mixture of Quenya and Common Tongue.

Tethering on the edge, you mewled for him.

“Adar...”

It seemed like he'd lied previously about his mind reading ability or a lack of thereof. He knew exactly what you needed and how you needed it, brining his palm to force it between your legs. You clit pulsed as he rubbed at it, adding the squelching noises of your cunt into the cacophony of your moans and splashing of water. His other hand grasped your throat, pulling your body backwards into him like a taut bowstring.

Moist and spit-slick, his mouth covered yours just as the heat in your belly exploded like an inferno. Heatwaves and aftershocks followed and Adar fucked you right through them, pulse after pulse echoing on his cock, prolonging your orgasm and wringing out his. His cock spasmed within you and he moaned right into yourself mouth, tongue snagging on your teeth, yours and his clashing.

You couldn't care less. The full feeling of his cock plugging your cunt full of his seed and the slack, sated if fleeting expression on his face was your own little spot of heaven in the utter (and often literal) Mordor of your surroundings. You sucked on Adar's tongue - gently, akin to a kitten - and safely deposited the memory of this into the very depths of your mind. Comforts had a tendency not to last.

You lamented the loss of Adar within you as soon as he softened enough to wetly slip out. An absence of his cock within you was so hard, it became a presence. Dripping with seed, your pussy clenched around nothing - ever the insatiable thing - and you made efforts to escape Adar's grasp.

Futile.

“We must get clean again,” he stated matter-of-fact, gathering you even closer to himself as his fingers turned your forearms up to display the dirt and scratches that resulted from your chaotic coupling.

When they were clean, Adar's lips traced each line, single-minded and petal-soft. His eyes were eons away.

Polished up the Uruks here a little bit and give them some half-decent semblance of a society, if to make some sense of what Adar is/does. If my Quenya sucks, I am sorry. I'm better with Sindarin :c

we are getting nasty in the bath because, well, I've seen the state of his camps and I'm pretty sure a UTI in those circumstances may actually be deadly. some kind of sauronian morgothian super-evil-bacteria is what we don't need in our sexy times 💀

Contrary to the single playlist theme of this kinktober compilation, I had Adam Sandler's stand up show playing in the background when I wrote this. Specifically the song about Chris Farley repeated like 3 times. Who knew my personal style icon could sing that well!? Damn! Go Adam!