#or rather want to go to sleep but know i have to keep up this tradition.

[ghouljams]

Sin Summer (Gaz) Rating: E (MDNI) Words: 4.8k Tags: Gaz x f!reader, anal, body writing, tickling, pwp, dirty talk, rimming(f!receiving), clit torture(minor), vibrators, overstimulation, free use, dollification(sort of), Gaz is a nasty freak and I love that for him Summary: You're having a lot of fun(and sex) staying with Ghost, but you're still learning your way around the barracks. Good thing Gaz doesn't mind being walked in on. <Part 4 ao3

It’s decided that you’ll stay in Ghost’s room. Less likely anyone will inspect his rather spartan dwelling is what you’re told. Really you think Ghost just wants to keep you to himself. Unfortunately it’s not all sex and blowjobs. The space of time when Ghost and Johnny are off doing whatever soldiers do is sort of boring. You spend two days just sitting in Ghost’s room reading naval fiction(the only thing that man seems to have on his small bookshelf) before Ghost gives you a look and tells you you’re not trapped on base. The man even hands you a card and tells you to have fun.

Which just opens up a whole new world for you. Free room, free sex, and you’re right by a bus station. You spend the rest of the week exploring London and sending postcards to your friends back home. You know where you’re sleeping every night and every morning you wake up to Ghost’s giant frame between your legs. You may as well be in paradise. Except the mattress sucks and you’re having to look up yoga exercises just to get the kinks out of your back.

Ghost shows you where the bathroom is, though he has his own, and gives you the key to his room. “Free reign” you’re told, something about the rest of the team being out and the recruits being home. Doesn’t matter much to you. It’s the military, there’s always people on deployment or off doing something. The specifics are unimportant. You’re here for one thing.

You open the door to Ghost’s room, unlocked, he must be back from training.

“Two words baby:” You call out, bursting into the room with your usual flair, “Crotchless. Panties.” You shake the little pink bag dangling off your fingers. Only it isn’t Ghost you’re talking to. 

Your eyes dart around the significantly less spartan room, the football flags, family pictures, record box and definitely not Ghost unpacking a suitcase on the bed. No, this man is smaller, with beautifully warm umber skin and broad shoulders. Actually everything about him seems to radiate warmth, from the deep brown eyes that sweep over you, to the growing smile that lights up his face.

“Christ you’re pretty,” you blink, hold your hand up to shield your eyes from looking at the sunshine on his face. He laughs and it’s movie worthy, are you in a dead wife montage or something?

“You’re the bird Soap was talkin’ about,” Ooh even his voice is like honey, you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything sweeter. You’ve heard Ghost call Johnny that once or twice, this must be one of the guys they said was on mission. 

“You’re…” You fish for the names Ghost gave you. You weren’t really paying attention when he told you. Not your fault, his dick was in your mouth.

“Kyle,” Kyle introduces himself, “can call me Gaz if you want.”

“Pleasure,” You return his smile. He tips his head, eyes dragging over you slower this time. His gaze feels heavy, appreciative, thoroughly and explicitly interested. When he blinks you find his gaze holding yours and your cheeks heat.

He holds his hand out, and you walk closer to shake it. His grip is firm, his fingers wrapping around yours are tight and unyielding. When you go to drop his hand, he yanks you closer, pulls your arm up, leaning back as you’re forced against his chest. Your heart beats a little faster, your face burns, and your breath catches. 

“Now what-” Gaz asks, his mouth dropping to brush against the shell of your ear as he speaks, “-is a pretty doll like you doing with those two muppets?”

You tip your head instinctively for him. The stubble along his jaw, evidence he’s been without a decent shave in weeks, tickles your neck and you can’t help the bubble of giggles that escape you. Gaz breathes you in with a sigh. You feel his lips curve into a smile and he rubs his scratchy cheek against the sensitive skin until you’re laughing and squirming to try and get away from him.

His grip on you is like iron, even when you shriek and giggle, bumping him with your shoulder until you’re breathless and hiccupping. Your stomach hurts from laughter, the hand he isn’t keeping held out of the way pushes against his firm chest. Nothing you do seems to budge Gaz. The same way you can never move Johnny or Ghost. His fingers pinch your side, and you flinch away from him.

You bounce when he tosses you onto his bed, still letting bursts of laughter slip free, your neck tingling with the memory of his touch. Gaz drags his hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble for himself, and reaches down to strip his shirt over his head. Your cheeks hurt with how hard you’ve been smiling, your heart still fluttering giddily, but you feel like your lungs stop breathing as Gaz’s hand wraps around your knee and drags you back to the edge of the bed. 

“They been takin’ care of you properly, doll? Givin’ you everything you deserve?” He coos, his hand sliding up your leg. You nod, push yourself up onto your elbows to watch Gaz watching you. He tips his head, brows twitching together like he’s trying to feign concern. His smile feels hungry as his eyes drag over you, “Got no reason to play with me then, right?”

“I mean,” Your eyes dart to his belt, “I’ve got some time.”

“You sure?” He leans to kiss your knee, dragging his lips over the inside edge and up the sensitive skin of your thigh. “Haven’t seen anything as pretty as you in months, might not wanna let you go afterwards.” His tongue darts out, presses against the inside of your thigh and licks a broad stroke that makes you shiver.

It makes you feel like a virgin the way he looks at you, talks to you, touches you, like he could eat you alive. What do they say about pretty faces? Christ you can’t remember when his hands are so eagerly tugging down the zipper on your skirt. His brows draw together as you lift your hips to help with shucking your underwear. Gaz’s hands grab under your thighs as soon as your clothes hit the floor, pushing your legs up towards your chest, forcing your hips up so he can get a good look at you. 

His hands are softer when they drag down your thighs, still marked with callouses, but you’d bet he’s better about wearing gloves. You grab your knees to try and hold yourself in position for him. If you’d thought he was going to inspect your cunt you’re surprised to feel his hands grip your ass, and spread you apart. Gaz tips his head, kneading the soft flesh as he breathes out a groan.

“Look’it that,” He coos, and you feel his thumb brush over your asshole, “knew they wouldn’t touch it.”

Your cheeks blaze with heat. Christ, you’re a slut but this man is doing something to you. It’s not like you’ve never had anyone play around back there, but the slow appreciative way he just touches you, runs his thumb over the tight hole so you can feel the drag of his skin, makes you shiver. The way Gaz talks to you too, like this was a sure thing, a known thing, like Johnny and Ghost were saving part of you for him. You may as well be a toy they’re passing around, stress relief between deployments. The thought lights a fire in your chest, makes your skin prickle and your pussy wet. You can get into that.

“You ever had anyone back here, doll?” Gaz asks, his eyes raising to yours. His hands don’t move. You give a short nod, trying not to give the impression of innocence that he seems to drape over you.

“Fingers, and mmph-” You sink your teeth into your lip, holding Gaz’s gaze as he bends down, his tongue held out to roll ever so slowly over your ass. He makes sure you’re watching him, makes sure you can see the way his tongue licks you, the tip of it flicking over you in teasing strokes before his eyes drop and he spits on the hole. You swallow, feel his hands slide over the curve of your ass to help you hold your thighs. 

You can safely say you haven’t had anyone eat your ass before, and it’s making your chest feel a little fluttery. You’ve had folks dip down there when they were giving you head, but never with this sort of singularly focused effort. Not with the sort of eager breath that Gaz lets out, the drawn brows and open mouth. He licks the flat of his tongue over your ass again and again, the unfamiliar feeling making you squirm until he presses the tip of it against you. Gentle, testing, pressure that makes you whimper. Not because of the way it feels but the implication of it, the taboo. 

Just the knowledge that you’re doing something new makes heat wash over you. His tongue burns a stripe over your hole, stopping just short of your cunt. Gaz hums, teases the edge of your pussy with the tip of his tongue before dipping back down. It sends a flash of warmth over you, your clit tingling with need as your cunt throbs. You’re sure you must be soaked, you can feel the wetness starting to drip down over your ass, a hot shameful roll of slick that makes Gaz smile.

“Dirty thing,” He tells you, the honey in his voice seems to coat gravel, a rough need deepening his words. Your cheeks may as well catch fire, your voice lodged in your throat as you try not to pout at his teasing. Your stomach tightens in quick bursts, both of your holes clenching around empty air.

You always figured anal was better left to the people you spend more than one night with, maybe you should rethink that. Although you highly doubt the men that had begged for it would have had half the enjoyment Gaz seems to be getting. He pulls back to spit on your asshole again, watching the roll of spit over you, He drags his hand from your thigh to your pussy and you tense. Gaz lets out a huff of laughter.

“Soap’s spanking you raw, huh?” He guesses far too accurately. You wonder how often they do this, bring girls back to play bunny until they’re off on deployment again. You suppose it must get boring on base with nothing to do but prep for the next mission. “Don’t worry,” He drags the wetness that coats your cunt down to rub over your ass, “I won’t touch her again.”

You don’t recognize the threat, just nod and try to breathe through the shame that tries to burn through your body. God you are not a virgin on their first one night stand, you shouldn’t be so flustered over this. It’s not a big deal, you coach yourself, you’ve wanted to try this, and it’s not like he isn’t going to fuck you afterwards. Foreplay is just… a little awkward sometimes, that’s it. 

He tastes you, not properly, but finally. Gaz groans at the way your slick coats his tongue, lets him push it against your ass. The slick lubricates you enough for him to wiggle the muscle into your tight hole. It makes your eyes flutter a little, the feeling so alien, so different from the exploring fingers that usually made their way back there. You try to hold still, try not to feel like you’re doing something wrong letting him wiggle his tongue into your ass. It doesn’t work and you find yourself reaching to grab a fistful of short hair.

“Gaz,” You whine, unsure if you’re asking for more or less. It doesn’t matter. Gaz pulls his mouth from you and leans back, smacking your ass to watch the way you clench at the sharp sting of pain.

“On your knees, puppet,” Gaz orders, “edge of the bed.” You’re quick to turn over, stretching your arms out in front of you as you settle on your knees and arch your back. You hear the cap pop on a bottle of lube --you assume it’s lube-- and then Gaz’s thumb is rubbing slick against your ass. He presses, presses, presses. It feels like it takes ages, but it must only be a few seconds. The feeling makes your breath catch in your throat, makes warmth burn up your spine and down your legs. You feel Gaz’s other hand pet up your back, pulling your hips back for a better angle as he rubs back down.

“There you go,” He tugs at your rim, his fingers squeezing one of your cheeks, “fuck look at that.” He sounds almost breathless, completely enraptured by whatever he’s seeing. You can feel, fuck- you whine against the bed, feel him press his thumb in a little deeper. You’ve had guys do this while they fuck you, but never alone. Somehow it feels more intense like this, more focused. One finger is never enough to make you whine, let alone make your eyes roll back, but when he pulls his thumb out you moan against the bed. You can feel your pussy clench, can feel the heat dripping from you as you whimper into the mattress.

He’s teasing you, you know that, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t work. Gaz replaces his thumb with a thick finger and your eyes roll back. That sinful pressure and heat are starting to melt your brain a little bit, and when he pumps his finger in and out of your tight hole, mumbles about needing more lube, you can’t help the way you shiver. It courses through you like a twitch of your hips and settles in the way your fingers clench at the sheets. Every little motion feels so much bigger, so much tighter, than when your pussy is played with. You’re eased into the deep end of the pool, but that doesn’t mean you float.

Quite the opposite, you sink hard. You push back into the feeling, push back until you feel Gaz’s knuckles and hear him chuckle, “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” You prickle with heat, goosebumps raising over your skin unbidden. Gaz draws his finger back and you feel the cool dribble of lube over your hole. It slides around his finger, only to be scooped up by a second finger pushing into you. 

You whine at the stretch, push your face into the mattress until you can’t breathe, until your stomach is clenched tight and your hips are trying to rock back into the feeling of being stretched. You feel so full, and yet so maddeningly empty. Your pussy is awash with heat, your clit tingles, you want so badly to feel his hands on either of them, to be filled properly in the right hole. Gaz takes his time working you open, admiring the way your ass yields to his fingers’ tugging and scissoring, growing softer under his ministrations. 

The slight discomfort of it fades all too quickly into something mind numbing and you find yourself on the edge of orgasm. Your untouched cunt wound too tight to do anything but clench and dribble as your ass is fucked open on deft fingers. Your thighs shake, your muscles wound too tight to do anything but shiver. You just need a little more, just a little something extra. Gaz, mercifully, drags his unoccupied hand over your cunt. You whine when he circles your clit, and scream when he pinches it hard. The pain jolts through you, electric. You’d wanted more and you got it, the stimulation just enough to send you over the edge. You come on nothing, clenching desperately around Gaz’s fingers. He hums, the hint of a smile at the edge of his voice. He pinches you a little harder, twists his fingers and you keen. 

He thrusts his fingers in and out of your ass, working you through your orgasm. If you thought Johnny’s spanks were bad they didn’t prepare you for the sharp sustained pain that Gaz put you through. It hurt so good, almost distracting from the building pressure of Gaz’s fingers pumping into your ass. You sob when he releases the bundle of nerves and soothes his thumb over it.

Your cheek is smushed in a puddle of your own drool by the time he adds a third finger.

“How’re you feeling, puppet?” You can hardly think to answer, just let your eyes roll back and slur out a, “good” that makes him chuckle. “Good,” He reaffirms, “have you begging in no time.”

You don’t know how he could expect you to beg in these conditions. Your face is pressed to the mattress and you barely have the space to breathe when you feel like you’re about to break on just his fingers. You mumble something, but it isn’t words, just sounds that dribble out of you with each languid thrust of Gaz’s fingers. You don’t have the energy to do more than take it, which doesn’t seem to be the point. No, you know that’s not the point when you feel Gaz’s fingers leave you.

You feel so terribly empty. Stretched out and ready to go without the actual- You hear a click, and then buzzing. You move to push yourself up onto your hands to see what Gaz is doing and he’s quick to push your shoulders back down. You whine under his heavy hold, then you feel the cool unyielding plastic of an egg vibrator being shoved into your aching cunt. You clench around it, pull it deeper into your pussy as Gaz pushes it inside and nestles it right where he wants it. Another two clicks and the vibrations kick into a higher gear, tingling up your spine and making you moan. When Gaz’s fingers ease back into your ass, once again dripping with lube, you feel the fullness from both sides and press your hips back into the feeling. Gaz’s fingers push down against you, feeling for the vibrator and giving an annoyed hum. You don’t count the number of times he clicks the vibrator’s button, only know that suddenly your vision is going white and you’re shaking apart on the toy.

So much stimulation without a care to your poor cunt, your body is too greedy and you’re paying the price for it. If you were just a little less desperate, a little less edged by the fingers inside of you, maybe your orgasm wouldn’t rip through you like it does. Your back bowing as you bite the bedding and rock with the movement of Gaz’s fingers, clenching and unclenching desperately around the vibrator. You wonder if you could convince him to play with your clit. Maybe he’d be nicer this time if you did beg.

“Please,” You murmur, “please, please, please.” You don’t even know what you want him to do. Fuck you, you suppose. He swats your ass, the sharp smack of it filling the room and making your hips jerk. You fading orgasm makes the pain melt all the quicker into pleasure, tempting you to wiggle your hips and earn a second.

“Please what doll?” He asks, his voice is almost cruelly teasing, “good toys know how to use their words don’t they?”

“Please fuck me,” You may as well scream it for how badly you want him. All this build up, all the prep, you’re aching to feel his cock, aching to be filled. He’s not fucking your cunt, you probably don’t have to worry about being oversensitive. Right?

Gaz’s fingers leave you, and there’s a brief shuffle of fabric, the tear of a condom wrapper, and the familiar press of a cock nudging against your hole. You can feel the slip of lube over the synthetic barrier, the liquid pouring over your hole and his cock. You’re sure he’s upending the bottle, hoping to make this a little easier on the both of you. His fingers squeeze your ass, cool and wet with something, as he holds the heavy length and eases his blunt tip into your stretched hole.

You have never been this loud in your life on just the insertion. Hot pressure drags every thought out of your brain. Your hands claw at the bed spread, Gaz’s fingers tightening as he holds you in place and inches his cock into you. You feel tight, feel heat spreading through your core from that singular point, your pussy drips like a faucet onto the bed. Poor thing still drooling and clenching around the vibrator, even with a cock filling your ass. You’re too worked up to care, too drunk on the feeling of a cock pushing into you to do more than moan. There’s the slightest shift, just a centimeter of pullout as Gaz works you open, and you sob. Your hand shoots back to grab his wrist, something to hold onto when you feel like you’re losing your mind.

You’ve never been like this before, never felt like your legs were going to melt, like you’d be a puddle on the bed if Gaz weren’t holding you up. You have to clench your jaw just to swallow the spit filling your mouth, just to stop the stream of soft whimpering moans that leave you. You release his wrist just to fist the sheets, trying to hold onto some semblance of your sanity before it all leaves you.

Gaz pushes his fingers into your hair and grabs tight at your scalp. It’s a dull sort of tug that pulls you up, forces you back onto his cock. “Stick your tongue out puppet,” Gaz tells you, and you’re happy to oblige. You open your mouth, tongue out and your back arched from his grip. “What a sweet little slag you are,” Gaz hums, “glad I caught you before the captain did.”

Even if you knew what he meant, had the brain power to register the advice, you don’t have the words to agree. Gaz’s hips meet your ass and he stills, circling his hips to let you feel the reach of him. He’s deep, thicker than his fingers, and maddeningly deep. You don’t stop the drool that drips off your tongue and onto your chest. Gaz leans over you and pulls out, again you feel like your brain might be melting out of your ears. Every inch of his cock burns against your rim, fights against the tightness of your body, the unyielding muscle. He pushes back in and you have to adjust to the feeling a second time. It’s almost enough. You’re sure he’s just giving you time to get used to it.

Another slow pull out, and then his hips snap to yours. It feels like all the air is being knocked out of you, a shudder rolling up your spine at the motion. You barely get the time to take a breath before he’s doing it again and again. Tears start to prick in your eyes at the overwhelming feeling of it. The vibrator still buzzing away in your cunt, paired with the sharp pace Gaz sets push you to the edge faster than you thought possible. Your muscles tense, your spine arches, and Gaz murmurs in your ear.

“Such a pretty doll for me, aren’t you?” He coos, “Arching your back so nice, bet you wanna fuck yourself on my cock, don’t you puppet?” You nod against his hold, your hips already starting to move. “Good girl,” Gaz’s smile curves against your ear and for the first time in months you get the strangest feeling. Your heart clenches and you-

You wish it was Ghost saying those words to you.

The thought is quickly wiped away on Gaz’s next thrust, your mind as full of him as your body is and unwilling to compromise that with something as petty as a tiny little ache in your heart. You moan Gaz’s name for him, and  enjoy the way he pants in your ear as he drives his hard cock into you. He releases your hair to hold your throat, his fingers gentle in direct contrast to the harsh slap of his hips. You feel the murmured praises more than hear them.

“Pretty thing, gorgeous doll, taking it so well,” Gaz’s breath huffs out, his lips dropping to your shoulder before he’s up again. “Tell me how much you love it,” He orders.

“Love it,” you slur, moving to grab his wrist again, you press it tighter against your throat, missing the thick unyielding grip Ghost always seems to have, “feels so good.”

“Can’t believe no one’s fucked this tight arse before, Soap said you were a proper slag.” You don’t have an answer for that, only push yourself back on his cock like a proper slut should. It makes him groan, the sound musical next to your ear. He holds his hips still and you do it again, pushing yourself down his length before pulling back. Gaz lets you drop back onto the bed, his fingers greedily spreading your ass apart to watch your hole swallow him with each stroke. “There you go,” He hums, “proper slag was right, takin’ every inch.”

You nod against the bed, fingers clenched tight in the sheets to help you rock back. It’s too much, and your hips stutter, earning a smack before you pick up your pace again. It’s not your fault though. He hits something inside of you, brushes against the vibrator, and you find your hips trying to run away from the feeling. Heat and pleasure dance behind your eyes when you squeeze them shut, your body isn’t used to this sort of treatment. Gaz takes over when your hips start to wiggle away from him, his hands clamping onto your hips and pulling you back until you’re sobbing.

Gaz’s fingers find your clit again, rubbing light circles between mean pinches. Everything feels wet, your cunt throbbing with heat and need that’s barely supplemented by the way he pinches you. You don’t care about coming a third time, it’s too much, and not enough at the same time. You feel insatiable even as your orgasm starts to tighten in your stomach. The tension in your body draws up and up, snakes its way up your spine to grip the base of your skull. You turn your head to push your forehead against the spit soaked sheets, just trying to ride out the hungry waves of pleasure.

“Wanna make you come,” You choke out, and Gaz let’s out a breath.

“You want me to come?” He questions, sounding almost confused before his smile eats through the fog, “Am I bein’ too mean to you puppet? Don’t mean to break my toys,” He sighs, leaning against your back as he picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with a wet smack, “but it is more fun when I do.”

His teeth dig into your neck and you feel his pinching turn into a hard, fast, rub. You clit finally being given the kindness you were craving and sending you screaming over the edge. Your voice is choked off by the way Gaz weighs you down, the way he drives his thick cock into you like he really is aiming to break you. There are tears flowing down your cheeks when you feel his hips still and head him growl out a groan.

Gaz rests his forehead against your shoulder, his breath panting against your sweat soaked shirt. He gives you a moment to catch your breath before pulling out. You whimper at the burn, your muscles still wound tight and needy. Your arms shake when you push yourself up. You don’t think you’ve felt so worn out in ages. Gaz presses you back down, kinder this time, and you feel a wet wipe moving over your abused hole. You take the invitation to stay mostly horizontal, gathering your thoughts back from wherever he’d fucked them out of you. Something felt tipped presses to your low back, makes a few quick strokes, and then Gaz is offering a hand to help you up.

Another clean cloth wipes over your cheeks cleaning up tear stains as Gaz murmurs how good you were for him. He helps you to get your skirt back on, and signs his name in sharpie on your underwear. “A souvenir,” He winks, “wouldn’t want to forget your first time.”

“Don’t think that’s gonna happen,” You tell him, still feeling a little out of it.

“You’re with Ghost right?” You hum, and give a sluggish nod of your head. Gaz laughs, lacing your fingers together and leading you to the door, “Alright, come on, I’ll take you home.”

“Kay,” You agree, letting your mind wander as he pulls you down the hallway towards you familiar, if a little spartan, room.

(Divider by @cafekitsune)

[withleeknow]

Helloooo! I’ve never done a request before so I hope this comes off okay :)

I love the song “flower line” by om shankar, it makes me smile every time. So, I was wondering if you could do a drabble based that.

If not, maybe the prompt: “real smooth, tripping over air”

If you take this request, thank you so much but if not I completely understand 🫶

call it what you want.

pairing: hyunjin x f!reader genre/warnings: strangers to lovers, college au, fluff; some light cursing, very unedited i am half asleep rn lol, italics indicate flashbacks word count: 1.4k note: hi anon! thank you for the request hehehhee. i decided to go with the prompt and also you didn't specify a member so i went with hyunjin, i hope that's okay :) happy reading <33

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / request masterlist / ko-fi

"real smooth, tripping over air."

hyunjin came back to the table and set down two coffees, the content of seungmin's plastic cup spilling over the rim just a little bit when hyunjin pushed the beverage toward him rather aggressively.

"shut up," hyunjin grumbled, covering his face with his hands as he wallowed in his misery. "literally shut the fuck up."

it was burnt into hyunjin's subconscious, the feeling of utter embarrassment when he had quite literally scrambled to stand up after you called out his order number and stumbled as he made his way over to the counter.

this was the fifth time that seungmin had been dragged to the campus cafe where you worked part-time as a barista, just to provide emotional support while hyunjin tried not to chicken out of chatting you up. every time, hyunjin swore today's the day, and every time, he went home with his tail between his legs and a brain that was wiped clean the very second you smiled at him.

seungmin only laughed despite losing a few drops of his coffee to hyunjin's dramatic ass. it was entertaining to see his friend like this, panties all twisted in a bunch over a crush on a cute girl whose number he couldn't even muster up the courage to ask for.

"you're such a pussy," seungmin tutted, shaking his head in disapproving amusement and taking a sip of americano as he looked at hyunjin who seemed like he could have a mental breakdown if even a gust of wind were to breeze past him right now. "it's not like you've never asked for a girl's number before. just do it."

"do you want to broadcast my shame to everyone here? keep your loud ass voice down." hyunjin removed his hands from his face and hunched forward to scold his friend in a half-whisper, even though the cafe was busy that day and it was almost impossible for you to hear him from all the way in the corner and over the lively chatter of the other students filtering in and out of the place. "you don't know what it's like. she might be the prettiest girl i've seen in my entire life. i go stupid every time i look at her."

"to be fair, you go stupid pretty often," seungmin said, which only earned him another murderous glare from across the table. "for real, why am i wasting my time here with you if you're just not gonna do anything? you're not even paying for my coffee. i could be in my room sleeping and saving money right now."

a pathetic whine slipped from hyunjin's lips before he sneaks a glance in your direction, where you were focused on writing down some guy's order by the register. "i don't know what to say!" he groaned, "it's so hard. ughhh."

he remembered the first time he saw you, and it wasn't in this cafe. it was at some lame party that he was forced to attend, where the drinks were shitty and the music was even shittier. he was sipping on cheap beer when he spotted you talking to another girl in the corner of the room, both of whom he'd never seen on campus before. what caught his attention was your easygoing smile and how your mere presence just seemed to pull him in despite the roomful of people separating you. he couldn't look away, and as if you could sense his stare on you, you'd turned your head and met his eyes. you'd sent that same charming smile his way, and hyunjin was enamored for the rest of that evening.

he lost sight of you soon after though, and none of his friends knew who you were. that was that; you were a pretty girl that he saw at a party once, whose name he didn't even know but whose smile he had memorized.

then three weeks later, as though the universe had given him a second chance, he saw you again when he came to the cafe for a quick bite before class. you'd smiled at him the same way you did at the party, and he was tongue tied.

fast forward another month and here he was, with his head in his hands as he agonized for the nth time over what to say to you other than "hi," "one iced americano please," and "thanks."

"just tell her you think she's cute and you'd like her number," seungmin said. "it literally doesn't get more straightforward than that. the worst thing she can say is no."

this was how their last four visits to the cafe went, the conversation always ending with hyunjin neglecting his friend's advice in favor of sneaky glances and a mouth shut tight when he failed to hype himself up enough to utter a few words to you.

"if you don't do it today, you're on your own," seungmin told him when he was only met with silence from hyunjin's end. "i'm not coming back with you again. the coffee isn't even good."

"wait, come on, dude. just... wait. i need to think."

"stop thinking. nothing in that brain of yours is going to help."

"hey!"

"are you gonna do it or not?"

"hold on, i need a plan."

seungmin rolled his eyes before he downed the remaining few sips of his coffee. "you know what? if you don't ask for her number, maybe i'll just do it myself." then he was already coolly standing up and heading in your direction without even looking to see if hyunjin heard him correctly.

"seungmin!" hyunjin called, hurriedly gathering his phone and wallet and scrambling to catch up with his friend in a panic. they both stopped in front of the register, where it was thankfully empty now and no one nearby had to watch hyunjin burn himself to a crisp with embarrassment.

"how can i help you?" you asked, looking at them curiously when hyunjin's eyes flit between you and seungmin in a panic.

"uhm... i.... uh..."

"this is hyunjin." seungmin was the coherent one between the two of them as he clasped a hand on his friend's shoulder with a sly grin. "he thinks you're cute and wants to get your number."

"the end," hyunjin says flatly. "the rest was history. you were there, you know what happened."

"come on, please?" you pout, tugging on his arm as you lean closer to nudge your nose against his cheek. "i've only ever heard it from seungmin and he doesn't tell it like you do."

he glances at you from the side. "what do you want me to tell you? that in that moment i considered running out the door and not stopping until i found the nearest ditch to fall into?"

you laugh, all light and airy and it still makes hyunjin as smitten as he was that afternoon in the cafe. "no, the other part."

"the part where i actually did kinda try to run away and bumped into someone and spilled coffee all over myself? and you had to take me to the backroom to let me borrow someone's shirt?"

this draws another giggle out of you as you recall the moment, when you had been so endeared by him that it was hard to let him go home afterward without your number saved in his phone. "yeah," you say, utter fondness dripping from your voice. "that part."

"that was the most embarrassing day of my life. i made a complete fool of myself."

"you were adorable. it's my core memory of you."

"i'm glad you found my humiliation entertaining."

you roll your eyes half-heartedly before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek to appease his faux sulk. "we wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for your dramatic overthinking ass that day, would we? unless... you'd rather take it all back."

hyunjin softens in an instance, huffing out a breath as he mumbles bashfully, "i didn't say that..."

"you big baby," you tell him with your lips still ghosting the side of his face. you're so close like this, so tightly pressed up against each other on your couch that you can feel the warmth of his body and the thumps of his heart when you slide your hand over his chest. you give him another peck on the cheek, then you smile against his skin. "happy six-month anniversary."

there's a light blush that rises from his neck until it covers his face in the most beautiful rosy shade. a shy grin, his eyes turning into little crescent moons from the happiness that spreads from his head down to his toes, then hyunjin is smoothly turning over so he could pin you underneath him, where he presses his lips against yours so your smiles could meet.

"happy six months, baby."

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.05.2024]

[patscorner]

ok, I see you need requests, so here's one, something for Chris where the reader is Jealous?

absolutely!

Defeaning Silence

Summary: Both you and Chris attempt to seal the cracks in your relationship

wc: 1,517

Pairings: Chris x fem!reader

Contains: Swearing, arguing, fighting, insecurities, toxic, mentions of alcohol

______________________________

You and Chris both knew it was coming, you’d seen the signs. You both just chose to ignore the evidence, and delay the inevitable.

Chris and you had gone to Tara’s party. You were less than happy to go, as you were swamped with schoolwork, as well as your boss forcing you to work overtime. The last thing you wanted to do on your day off was be around a bunch of people who were drunk and less than unaware of their surroundings.

But, you hadn’t spent a bunch of time with your boyfriend, and he had invited you to this party. So even though you’d rather be under a warm blanket, watching a movie and eating your favorite snacks, you suck it up and go out.

Everything is going well, as it usually does. You had been glued to Chris’s side the whole time, not having the energy to go out of your way to talk to anyone. Chris wasn’t super pleased with the hesitation you had when he asked if you wanted to go, he felt like you weren’t being super appreciative of the invite he’d given you. He, of course, didn’t communicate this with you, not wanting to cause an argument. So he instead attempted to hide his feelings and just to enjoy your company.

As the night progressed, the more people got drunk, the more irritated you had become, the more the uneasy tension grew between you and Chris. This was unusual for you two, as you were usually that one couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. But tonight, you stood uncomfortably at each other's side.

Chris mumbled something along the lines of ‘fuck this’ before turning to you. “Can you at least pretend to be having a good time? You’re really ruining this for me.”

You look up at him, your blood instantly starting to boil. “What? Where is this coming from?” you spit at him. This is truly not the time nor the place for this, both of you being slightly under the influence, and already upset with each other.

“You’re standing here, being all dry and shit, and you're really starting to piss me off. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, ‘cause I know you’ve been hella busy. But, come on, you’re not even trying.” he exclaimed, flailing his hands around.

You’re stubborn, so even though deep down you know he’s correct, the last thing you’re going to do now is agree with him. “I am trying, Chris, that’s why I’m still fucking standing here. I do not want to be here, and I’ve already sucked it up. I don’t know what more you want from me.” you say, just as loud as him.

Chris rolled his eyes. “If you’re gonna be all mopey and shit, then you shouldn’t fucking be here.” Chris says harshly, his words laced with venom. Your eyes widen.

“Are you being fucking serious? You asked me to come, I’m here now, so what is the fucking problem?” You both are eye to eye now, screaming in each other's face. You know you should call it quits, sleep this off, and come back to it in the morning, but all logic has left, and you’ve both let the alcohol and frustration from earlier take over.

“My problem is the fact that I feel like I haven’t seen you in about two weeks, and when I try and be a good boyfriend and get you out of the fucking house, your acting like a bitch about it.” he spits bitterly. His words hold a hint of truth, despite his slight intoxication. “I might as well go hang out with someone else.”

You stand in front of him, speechless, as you let what he said sink in. Finally, you find your voice again. “Go hang out, with someone else then, Chris. See if I care.” you say untruthfully. You don’t mean it and he knows it.

He laughs even though this situation is far from funny. “I’m not falling for that again and you’re fucked up for trying to put me there.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, finding his implication shocking. He’s referring to a party you guys went to a while ago.

You’d only been dating for three months, so nobody really knew about your relationship. You had gone to a party, one that was far more packed than you thought it’d be, so you lost Chris pretty quickly. You’d had an argument before the event, so you assumed he had gone to hang out with his friends.

But after a while, you found him, talking to a girl who was the exact opposite of you. Her hands were on his chest, and his arm was snaked around his waist. You’d seen them talking, and you watched as she pulled him in for a kiss and how he didn’t pull away as their lips interlocked.

When they pulled away, he locked eyes with you, and you stood there, in shock. His eyes widened as he made his way to you, but you were already out the door. But he was fast, and he was able to talk you into letting him take you home so you both could speak privately. The car ride was quiet and awkward because, of course, it was.

You’d gone home that night, and the next morning, he explained himself. It wasn’t a good explanation, but you had always believed in second chances, so you let him attempt to make it up to you.

That didn’t stop you from having your own insecurities, though. After the party, you had him under a microscope. Every party, if you saw him talk to another girl, you’d be pissed for the rest of the night. Chris wasn’t able to do anything with anyone of the opposite gender, all because you were scared he’d kiss them again.

This led to a plethora of apologies and Chris practically begging you to relax. Your jealousy and his prior infidelity made it impossible for you both to have a positive relationship. It had turned toxic extremely quickly, but eventually, it got better. After long talks, you both attempted to work out all the issues you’d had.

Tara’s party was the first party you’d gone to since then, which was a year ago.

Back to the present, you were still staring at each other with such hatred. It’s like that flipped a switch in Chris. He realized you were both still hanging onto the past and it wasn’t going to get any better if you didn’t heal first.

He sighed deeply before grabbing your hands lightly, dragging you out of the party. “What’re you doing, Chris? Look, you can stay, I don’t care.” you ramble, wanting nothing more than for him to enjoy himself.

He opens your phone and orders you an uber, without saying a word. He hands it back to you and you look at it, then back at him. “We need to talk tomorrow. When we’re sober and cooled off.”

You don’t say anything, but nod knowingly. Chris sits down on the steps, and you follow as the silence surrounds you. Unfortunately, the quiet had become a recurring theme in you and Chris’s relationship.

When the uber arrived, Chris walked you to the car, and opened the door for you. Before you get in the car, Chris kisses your forehead. You smile sadly at him. “I’m sorry.” you mumble.

“I know, love, me too.”

The next day, Chris showed up at your apartment. You could tell by his demeanor what was coming. You both knew. It was only a matter of time.

“I’m sorry. Us being together is not healthy. And I know you know. We need a break. I just- I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s not just your fault, I know that. But you and I both know this isn’t good for us.”

At first you were in denial, knowing how much you loved him. “We can fix this- please, we can figure it out, we always do.” you begged tearfully.

Chris shook his head, water brimming his eyes as well. “Baby, I’ve figured it out. We’re only hurting each other.”

“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” you ask, swallowing your pride and biting the bullet.

Chris looks down. “The truth hurts, baby.”

“Lie to me then.” You whisper. Chris looks at you and smiles sadly.

“Baby.”

“I know. I just think there are other ways to solve this, a way where we don’t have to leave each other. Tell me what I can do to fix this. Please. Anything.” you're sobbing now, feeling pathetic.

Chris pulls you into an embrace rubbing his hands up and down your back. Eventually, he pulls away, his own tears falling.

“Thank you for being the light of my life.” Chris says, grabbing his keys and heading towards the door. Before he walks out he turns to you and looks at you with sympathy.

“We almost made it.” And with that, he closes the door, leaving you in the deafening silence.

______________________________

taglist: @kqyslyho3 @sstvrnioloo @mattsturniololoverr @theyluvkaitii-blog @chrattstromboli @Sillysillygyal @elliesturniolo1 @coochiedestroyer1 @Freshlovah0e @starsturns234 @g-lazyy @strnlsblog @ecliphttlunar @sturnioloblogs @y0urm4m @thenickgirl @muwapsturniolo @breeloveschris @worldlxvlys @freshloveforthefit @miloisdone1 @vanteguccir @annamcdonalds67 @freshsturns @rootbeerworshiper-deactivated20 @matty-bear @orangelala-deactivated20240425 @imwetforyourmom @stunnaagirllsworld @lanixsturniolo @c00ch13destroyer @junnniiieee07 @pepsiboyy @deadxrx @ribread03 @ariieeesworld @venusxsturnio @mattslovelygf @Spencereidismybitch @ablanstar333 @jjmaybankshousekeeping @larnieboox88 @Preppy234 @endereies @eurphoric-rush @whosthislyssbitch @jetaimevous @h3arts4harry

[veren-cos]

Bachelors (sdv) x gn!reader

Bachelors and self-harm comfort

TW mentions of Self Harm and suicidal ideation.

If you struggle with either of these, I strongly encourage you to reach out to someone and get help. You are not alone.

These are not super graphic, but definitely more graphic than my other fics if you have read those. So please read with caution.

These are all assuming you are in an established relationship.

Sam

• This was a long standing issue for you. You knew Sam would find out eventually one way or another, so you made it a point to tell him rather then him accidentally finding out.

• But when you did tell him, it was pure panic.

• He doesn't know how to help you, he didn't know how he never noticed! Does he tell anyone? Does he call anyone? Why didn't you tell him until now??

• Once he gathers himself a little bit, he asks for more details.

• He knows that you need him, and not to make it about him by breaking down.

• He starts keeping an extra eye out for if you are acting any different, or if he sees any warning signs.

• He tries really hard to be there for you, and knows he won't be perfect.

• Makes a trip to Harvey's to ask how to help 'someone' who struggles with sh and suicidal ideation.

• Harvey suggested that Sam brings that 'someone' to the clinic with him to have a little chat.

• You and Sam head down one day and you all make a plan on what to do when things get really bad.

• Mostly involves extra support, and you getting into a therapist on a semi-regular basis.

Sebastian

• Sebastian I think would be the most aware of the signs besides Harvey?

• So when he sees you avoiding him a bit, or not letting him touch you when normally you're all over him, he knows something is wrong.

• "Babe, whats up?" He gentle grabs your arm. "What's wrong? You've been acting different for a while now. Are you okay?"

• He isn't accusatory or anything when you tell him. He just pulls you into a tight hug.

• He just wants to be there for you. Self Harm is a really difficult topic, both to experience, and to witness. He tries to get to the cause of why you do it, but you honestly don't even know.

• You know you shouldn't, but sometimes it feels like all you can do.

• After talking about it for a long time, you eventually go to sleep in his arms.

• When you wake up, he already had some sort of breakfast made because he knew you'd be too tired.

• He left out some super old books about mental health he had (Aka like one from high school) and offered to look through them with you.

• Checks in with you frequently, and isn't one to dance around the topic. Yes, he handles it gently and shocking calmly, but he knows you can't avoid talking about it.

Alex

• Not going to lie, the way I see a relationship progressing (Aka kinda intense and fast paced) he would find out before intimacy.

• You were already a little nervous so you completely blanked on your old scars and relatively new self harm.

• So when he saw, you panicked, and then he panicked because you were panicking, and all around it was chaos.

• Nothing went to plan that day because you just ran to the bathroom to cry.

• ...

• He knocked on the door, "babe.. Could you come out please? We should talk about this."

• "I don't want to"

• " Babe come on." He tried the handle and it opened.

• "It's okay. You're okay. I'm not mad, now can you talk to me about this?"

• You opened up and told him everything. With Alex being the most stereotypically attractive out of all the Bachelor's, you'd be very nervous about letting him see scars.

• But he doesn't care. He thinks they are proof of how strong you are and how far you have come.

• "Babe I just want to be here for you. We don't have to rush anything. I don't care if you have scars, you're beautiful. I love you, and you will get through this."

Harvey

• Harvey finds out during your first physical.

• This I feel would be just after you started dating.

• But he asks the dreaded question of "have you had thoughts of hurting yourself or others?"

• You knew you had to tell him. No matter how awkward or emotionally taxing it got, it was important both in your relationship and for your personal health.

• So you did.

• He let his little doctor mask slip because he thought he already knew all your medical business, and that this was just a formality.

• "Dear..?" He looked so sad for you. "Why haven't you told me this?"

• Legit starts tearing up, because how on earth could you hate yourself? And to the point of hurting yourself?

• You start apologizing for not telling him sooner, "Harvey we had just started dating, I didn't want to put too much on you too soon. This is my problem to deal with!"

• And then he takes a few deep breaths, and collects himself to do this in a more professional manner.

• "My love, you do not have to go through this alone. I need you to tell me if you ever feel like.. hurting yourself. Okay? Call me. Call the clinic. Get me if I'm home. I will be there for you."

• "Even if we weren't dating, I would still be there for you! So no matter how much I care for you, because I so deeply care for you, this is my job."

• Sets you up with a therapist in the city, because he knows that even if you know you can talk to him, it's good to have a non-personal professional to be able to talk to.

Shane

• You helped him, now it was his turn to help you.

• Found out a morning he woke up early and you forgot to close the bathroom door. Not a fun scene to wake up to.

• I don't want to say he got angry, but he shouted,

• "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"

• It was more out of sheer panic and distress rather than anger.

• You panicked, dropped everything, and basically burst into tears on the spot apologizing.

• Then he freaked out even more because he yelled at you and ran to give you a tight hug.

• Shane tried to calm you down, but it took a really long time to get you to stop hyperventilating.

• Eventually, he helped you clean everything up, and although it was really hard for you, he took you to Harvey's.

• Shane knew that he wouldn't be able to give you all the help you needed, he was still recovering himself.

• But he tries really hard to help, the same way you do with him.

• He helped you set up going to a therapist. You go to the same office as he does.

• He will be there for you every step of the way. Won't let you go.

• He truly understands, and just wants the both of you to feel better.

Elliott

• He would feel guilty for not noticing the signs.

• "My love..?" He is just so confused when he sees. "My love what did you do?"

• Doesn't exactly panic but is just dumbfounded. How could you hate yourself? How could you not like yourself? Why on earth..?

• He helps you clean up, though is a little queezy with blood.

• He would keep himself relatively strong in front of you, but you hear him crying for you when he thinks you're asleep.

• He is there for you, he asks Leah because he trusts her (though would not actually bring up your name. Would make it under the guise of a situation in his book)

• He wouldn't invade your privacy. But he just would check with you a lot more.

• He loves you, and just wants to see you love yourself.

An* Once again, if you struggle with self harm or suicidal ideation, please reach out for help. Helplines and resources are a quick Google away for your area. You are not alone. I promise things will get better.

Masterlist

[vigsilantes]

coffee and hair dye (adrian chase x gn reader)

Pairing: Adrian Chase / Vigilante x GN Reader Summary: You’re dying your hair to match your suit color and Adrian wants you dye a bit of his hair to match yours. Word Count: 3.1k Tags: established relationship, reader-insert, gender-neutral pronouns, post-canon, idiots in love, mild smut, domestic fluff, comfort, fluff and smut A/N: this was inspired by Nadja and Laszlo and their matching hair from what we do in the shadows if you know what i’m referencing ily

~masterlist~ | >>>(read on ao3)<<<

Last night’s supposed "small" mission turned into a rather difficult and tiring one. Nothing went wrong, but the targets were far more skilled than research proved, and they kicked your asses. Then you guys kicked their asses. Though it was a rather fast fight, and you won, you all were roughed up and totally depleted. The complicated night prompted Emilia to generously give everyone the next night off. Well, all the bickering and complaining by the team in the van prompted Emilia to give the night off. And that bickering was worth it because you and Adrian finally have a night off together, you both haven’t had one in a very long time. Though you two were quite beaten up from the mission, you planned to make the best of it.

After sleeping until 11, you and Adrian felt the urge to get out of bed. He was making it hard to leave bed though, as his whole body was wrapped around yours, and his head was nuzzled perfectly in the back of your neck. Fortunately, it’s Saturday, you already had the day off from work. However, Adrian wasn’t so lucky and in fact had to go to Fennel Fields in a few hours.

You sigh, “I think we should get out of bed; you have work, maybe you can shower, and I’ll make us coffee?” you suggest. Adrian hummed into your neck.

“Babe,” he paused, his voice still raspy from sleep. He groaned as he lifted his arm away from you to grab his phone from the nightstand. He tapped the screen and put his phone to his ear, “I am not leaving this bed,” he raised his brows, you blushed while you turned over to fully face him. After a pause his eyes light up and he slightly cleared his throat, “Hey, this is Adrian, sorry, I won’t be able to make it today, I woke up with a horrible cold,” he adds in a few fake coughs, then slyly smiles, “I’ve thrown up a bunchhh too so, yeah… yup, thanks, bye!” He tapped his phone and gave you a wicked grin, you bit your lip.

“Okay, yeah, I’m glad you did that. I didn’t want us to get up right now either,” he kissed your forehead, “and you’re keeping me warm so, if you left, or we got up, I would be way too cold.”

“See now, we couldn’t let that happen,” Adrian purred and pulled you closer into his chest, you could feel the heat radiating off of him, you snuggle into it, “how are you feeling?” he asked, while gently twirling your hair through his fingers. You took a second to actually see how you felt, your body was tired but nothing really more than that was wrong.

“All right, achy everywhere though, I feel bruises already I think, you?” you look up at him, he meets your gaze, eyes still looking tired, he nods his head.

“I think I’m the same but,” he let out a deep huff, “I feel so relieved that I called out, so I’m not even thinking about the bruising my body is doing right now… Babe," he paused and a playful smile grew across his face, "we have a day off together!” You gasped, it’s been forever since you guys had a whole entire day off together, it only really happens when you get injured from missions, but you guys aren’t in too bad of shape from last night, it was a win-win.

“Waitttt we have to have some fun today, should we plan something, or should we not plan something and just see what happens today?” you ponder, he chuckles. “Oh, and since we both have time this morning, could you please help me re-dye my hair?” you smile and blink up at him.

“Of courseeeee, I love helping you do your hair! I am honored that you would like my help, babe.” Adrian beamed and your cheeks turned red at his smile. “Plus, you look so badass when you just dyed your hair like it’s so bright and, well… not that right now your hair isn’t badass, but,” he sighs, “you know what I mean, babe.” Before he could keep talking, you cupped his face with your palm, he smiled into your hand.

“Thanks, Ade. And I’m honored that you like helping me,” you replied. “Should I maybe go a little crazy and match the purple in my suit again? The pink that I have now could easily change into it… Ooh, yea, I’m going back to purple,” you state, Adrian was nodding his head enthusiastically.

“YES, babe it’s so hottt when your hair matches your suit, great idea!” he said, eyes wide.

“Thank you, thank you, now I'm definitely doing purple,” you lean up to peck Adrian on the lips, he returns the kiss with his tongue, which caused you to breath out a moan, he pulled you into his chest, his hand crawling up your back. You couldn’t resist moving one hand up to his head so you could run your fingers through his dark hair, the other hand gently scratching his bare back. You try to briefly pull away from him, but he doesn't let you until he gets in one more deep kiss, then he barely seperates himself from you, your lips brushing his.

“Instead of fucking right now, which I really want to do, I need to dye my hair early in the day, or I’ll never get it all done,” you pause, he groans in protest as he kisses your neck, “how about… you can fuck my brains out after my hair is purple?” you question, nudging his chin up so you could meet his eyes.

“Hmmm,” he goes in for another long kiss that made you shiver, then he slowly pulls away, “I guess you’re right, let’s be productive,” he paused to play with your hair once more, his green eyes lighting up from the morning sun. As he met your gaze, you saw something shift in his eyes, “but only if you dye some of my hair to match yours.” Adrian firmly states, voice deep, he was almost using his Vigilante voice. You couldn’t help the smile that grew onto your face, thinking about him with dyed hair. And then you really couldn’t help how turned on you were at the thought of his hair matching yours-and your suit. Heat immediately ran to your cheeks.

“Oh absolutely, fuck, let’s do it right now,” you twirl a strand of his hair, “that’s gonna be so fucking hot.” You kiss again before you both hype yourselves up to slink out of your cozy, toasty, bed.

“I’ll make us coffee while you get the dye stuff ready, babe!” Adrian stated, as you went to the bathroom to mix together some bleach and take stock of your purple dye-you luckily had plenty of purple left over from the last time you matched your suit, all you needed to do was mix a bit of blue to make it a perfect color match. You made a little extra bleach for Adrian, and you felt a bit giddy while picturing him having dyed hair, he has never ever done any kind of coloring to his beautiful dark hair, so you won’t do a lot, just a few strands under the back of his head. Just then, you heard the beep of your record player turning on and a moment later, “I Saw Her Standing There” by The Beatles began faintly playing, he threw on his Please Please Me record. You grinned; he always picks the best music.

“Perfect music choice honey,” you yell out to him as you stir the bleach with the brush. As you’re mixing, Adrian walks in with two cups of iced coffee, you both prefer iced over hot, and Adrian has mastered making lattes at home with a fancy coffee machine.

“Here you are, my love, order up,” he smiles as he hands you your glass, you take a sip and start slowly nodding your head in approval.

“Mwah it's perfect, thanks babe, I love having my own little at home barista,” you admit, the compliment caused him to blush. “Okay, I can start my roots, and all I’ll need help with is the back, and then I can do a bit of yours,” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Can’t wait, I’ll just enjoy the view while I sip on my coffee,” he hummed while smiling. All you were wearing was his t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, it just became a habit for you to steal his shirts, and that then lead to his boxers, and he doesn’t mind one little bit…if anything he encourages it. He eyed you up and down with feline eyes. Your cheeks turned rosy as you began sectioning your hair, preparing it for the bleach. You then threw on some gloves and got to work. Bliss fell over you while you listened to Adrian hum and sing to the music as you did your hair. It just made your heart feel warm. After a few minutes, you got to the back part of your head that was hard to see.

“All righty babe,” you turn to look at him, his eyes lit up.

“Yay okay let’s do this!” he clapped his hands and then put on a pair of gloves as well. With the brush in one hand, and his other hand helping to part your hair, he went in, and painted the bleach on the back of your head.

He always loves to help, and you really appreciate it because he’s really good at dying your hair. You enjoyed staring in the mirror to watch how concentrated he was, he was truly getting into it.

After a song or so he met your eyes in the mirror, you beamed. “And that’s that, babe, thanks for coming to my coffee-salon,” Adrian joked, you broke into a laugh, he chuckled as well.

“Pleaseeee, thank you for having me,” you turn around to press a kiss on his cheek, “but now, it’s my salon,” you firmly state, narrowing your brows, Adrian’s face turned bright red, but his eyes were fiercely watching yours.

“Oooh fuck yeah!” He exclaims, handing you the brush and cup of bleach, “this is gonna be so hot, but,” he bent down a bit as if to whisper, “it won’t be too much of my hair though, right?” he softly questions, you chuckle as you swap places with him.

“No babe, don’t worry,” you confirm, as you lean up and start to untangle a small part of hair on the back of his head, angling his head to make him look down so you could section it. You started making a section almost like an undercut, but just a small little square of hair. “I’ll just do this much, barely even a whole handful,” you show him in the mirror. “Your other hair will cover it and it’ll peak through-”

“YESS, that will look so fucking cool, I am so ready!” He squealed, you grinned as you part his hair and use one of your hair clips to keep his other hair out of the way. You then mixed the bleach one more time before applying it to his head, making an even layer on his dark hair.

It barely took one song to do all of it, but you finished applying the bleach, and to your surprise, his virgin hair was already taking to the bleach.

“Now we wait,” you step to stand next to him, the smile that was on his face was priceless. You then begin cleaning up the small mess you made in the bathroom, Adrian held up the trash can for you to throw your bleached gloves in and you start wiping up the counter. With one look in the mirror, you could tell your hair was already almost done, your roots weren’t too dark in the first place. His dark hair will probably take a bit longer. However, as you start cleaning, you noticed how much the bathroom needed more of a clean, so you take a breath and begin. You and Adrian sang along to the music as you cleaned, flipping the record shortly into your clean. You guys got into a rhythm and ended up tidying up more than either one of you intended to. You huffed, and Adrian caught your eye. “Well shit it looks great in here,” you say, smiling, he looked around the room.

“It really does! I don’t know what ghost possessed us to do that but I’m glad it happened,” Adrian joked, you nodded, chuckling. You step closer to Adrian and gently move his head so you can check his hair, it was blonde! A glance in the mirror told you your hair was ready to wash too.

“Well, apparently we cleaned long enough for the bleach to work, let’s wash, you first!” You say, he nods, eyes widening from excitement. He sets his glasses on the sink then bends down to kneel in front the tub with his head over the drain. Luckily your shower was a handheld one, so you took it off the mount and hover over him to begin washing his hair. He giggles as your fingers begin gently massaging his scalp and after swishing water through his hair, the bleach had washed out. You shut the shower and grab a towel for Adrian, his whole head got wet. You wrap the towel and tuck it in so it can firmly stay on his head to dry his hair. “It looks great blonde, honey.” You tell him.

“I can’t fucking wait to see it all finished, babe,” Adrian replied, you smiled as you two swapped places so he could help wash your hair. Adrian threw his glasses back on then began gently massaging your scalp, you hummed in content. “Aaannndddd done,” he said after a minute of washing, shutting the faucet and squeezing the water from your hair before placing a towel around your head. You properly wrap it and turn around to Adrian.

After drying your hair with the blow dryer, you repeat the dying process but with the mixed purple dye. Adrian’s handful of hair didn’t take long to color, then he ended up doing your whole head, teamwork makes the dreamwork! Once he declares your head is done, you both notice how hungry you are.

“Breakfast?” you asked, Adrian pursed his lips. Your stomach almost instantly growled at the thought of a meal. When you got home from the mission last night, though you weren’t beaten up too badly, you were still in pain, it was a miracle you guys didn’t pass out in your suits in bed, so yeah, you could both eat. He nods his head frantically. “Eggs and waffles?” You question.

“Let’s-a-go!” Adrian said in an Italian accent as he pumped his fist in the air, you cackle, what a dork. He leads the way to the kitchen and starts getting the eggs and the cheese from the fridge and waffles from the freezer. You notice that the music stopped, so before helping begin breakfast, you put on a different Beatles record and place the needle on. You hear a "Thanks, babe!" from Adrian as you enter the kitchen.

You two seamlessly make breakfast, splitting up tasks between you both. After a few short minutes, you had cheesy scrambled eggs and waffles, and while sitting at your small kitchen table, you shared breakfast with Adrian. It only took a few minutes to eat, but right as you finished your last forkful of eggs, you looked at your hair in your phone’s camera to see the dye showing through, it was time to wash!

You hum as you stand up and check the back of Adrian’s head, it already looks amazing, “Babe, let’s go washhhh,” you say, wavering your voice, he gasps.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Adrian exclaimed as he also stood up, you two began walking to the bathroom. You go right to the tub to turn on the shower and when you turn around you see Adrian, still shirtless, waiting like an excited puppy. You repeated the washing process for the last time, thank God, and began towel drying each other’s hair. Adrian was the first to get to the mirror, his hair has already practically dried, and even by slightly turning his head to the side he could see the streak of purple amongst his dark hair. He gasped. You grabbed the small mirror off the sink counter and held it up to the back of his head so he could get a proper view, all the while you were staring at his colored hair.

“Fucking hell, Ade, you look so hot with purple hair,” you say, gawking at him. His eyes were wide as he took in his hair in the mirrors, and you noticed that the purple in his hair complimented his green eyes beautifully. “I’m so glad your hair took to the dye!”

“Shit, me too, it looks, so fucking sick babe, I am so happy right now,” Adrian beams, turning to you, “thank you for helping me look more badass, babe.” He leaned down to press his lips to yours, you deeply return the kiss. He pulled away only a few inches, you felt his breath on your ear. “I may look a little more badass, but fuck-babe, you…you.” his voice lowered, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk.” You gasped, he started playing with your hair in one hand, then he slides his other hand down your lower back. Adrian moved in fast and started kissing your neck.

“God, I-” He cut you off by moving his kisses up your neck, and farther up to meet your lips. You were honestly glad he interrupted you, you had nothing to say other than the moan that managed to escape from you. You were instantly on him, running your fingers through his hair and caressing his face. He hoisted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

The two of you barely separated your lips, only for an occasional moan or swear from either of you. After a few moments, while still holding you, he moved you two to your bed, planting himself on top of you, putting his whole weight on you. You felt his boner immediately, you melted into him even more as heat ran to your cheeks. His hands were all over you, and you felt ravenous as your hands touched him.

It pained you but you had to pull away to say, “I should dye your hair more often.” All you heard in response was a deep belly laugh that erupted out of him-fuck you love him.

“I won’t say no to tha-” you didn’t let him finish speaking before leaning up and crashing your lips to his. The smile on his face faded the more he kissed you, he quickly became feral as he reciprocated your initial kiss, and more.

[forthegothicheroine]

How Other Great Detectives Would Solve the Riddler Murders

A series I do sometimes. This is based on The Batman (2022). I will be assuming that none of these universes have already established superheroes and supervillains unless it's also in that canon.

Sam Vimes: The Watch as a whole might solve the case, but Vimes is going to be in the wrong headspace. Carcer was bad enough as playful serial killers go, but a serial killer who liked Sam Vimes and wanted to be his best buddy? I think that would make Vimes need his own stay in Arkham.

Sam and Peter: This one is my favorite, it works so horribly well! The Riddler, having been a huge fan of American Vandal, addresses his messages to these two teenage goobers (and it is in fact in the form of vandalism.) Selina ends up saving their lives due to secondhand embarassment when she sees them trying to interview Carmine Falcone about whether he was on any Gothamite subreddits. (Oswald Cobblepot was happy to talk to them about it!) It all comes down to whether the pressure of stopping a serial killer causes the boys to bloom or break, and I'd like to hope it would be the former.

Phryne Fisher: I totally get why the Riddler would fixate on and write letters to Phryne, she's a very good person to fixate on and write letters to! (I've often said she's like if Catwoman were Batman.) Phryne sleeps with Selina and gets surprisingly flirtatious with Oswald. Having already taken down a cocaine ring, she knows enough to honeypot her way into the lower floor of the Iceberg, and very narrowly avoids death at the hands of Falcone. She can solve riddles easily enough, though I don't know if she'd put them together in time to stop the flooding of the city. I'll call this success with a similar casualty rate to Batman's.

Sammy Keyes: This one is a real dick move on the Riddler's part. Addressing your serial killer messages to a tween girl who'd been involved in catching other criminals, thus revealing she's living in an apartment illegally and potentially getting her taken away by social services? It's absolutely something he would do to make a broader social point, but still it's a serious dick move. I think Sammy is way out of her depth here but I want her to succeed because I love the idea of subsequent Sammy Keys books having recurring characters that include the one cop slightly sympathetic to her, the junior high mean girl, and the serial killer who sends her cryptic letters from incarceration.

L: I just know that somehow this is going to involve Edward Nasthon, Forensic CPA, being on the team to catch the Riddler and him and L having a vaguely but unconsumatedly homoerotic dance between friend and enemy. I don't think he'd want to kill L, though, since he'd rather have him alive to acknowledge him as the smartest coolest guy ever, so I'll give L the edge here.

Jane Marple: No matter how I twist it, I just can't see a scenario in which the Riddler would send serial killer messages to Miss Marple. Instead, I think Edward Nashton would just meet her at a tea shop, they'd have a friendly conversation about the novel she's reading, and then she'd call up the police and tell them she's found the Riddler.

Columbo: This isn't a great setup for Columbo, since his method of detection is all about catching people in their lies, which is hard to do with a killer who is a nobody and who keeps to the shadows. He would definitely put Falcone away in the course of the investigation, but I don't know if that's enough to stop the grander scheme in play. If he does catch him, though, he would stop the flood because Edward Nashton would be SO vulnerable to casual conversations about hypothetical approaches to crime.

Philip Marlowe: I think Marlowe would kind of work his way backwards here. He'd get deep into the grime of Gotham, end up stopping a plot to flood the city, follow that up by an investigation into the mob and unconsummated sexual tension with Selina, just barely escape getting murdered by Falcone, get hit on the head by Cobblepot and have hallucinations involving penguins with umbrellas, then finally catch Edward Nashton, the petty little nobody who killed people to make himself feel like somebody.

Dale Cooper: This is a good case for Cooper, lots of subplots that lead into other subplots, nothing overtly supernatural but a vague general feeling of curses and doom. He would find deeper meaning in all the coded riddles that pointed to dark truths about the universe, topped off with dreams of cats and penguins doing his taxes. I sure hope the Riddler is willing to wait for all that before flooding the city, because Coop works at his own damn pace.

Hercule Poirot: I can see Poirot fitting in to the art deco Gotham of the animated series, but the modernist urban grime of the 2021 film is viscerally unpleasant to imagine him in. He could solve the riddles and aid the police, certainly, but more than any of the other detectives, my mind is rebelling against my attempts to imagine these people in the same room at the same time.

Sam Spade: Selina Kyle hires him to help get her friend out of a jam at the same time as Cobblepot hires him to get a few murders discreetly solved before the cops get too nosy, and then Falcone tries to have him whacked when he gets too close on both accounts. The Riddler would take him completely by surprise, but I'm having so much fun imagining Edward Nashton looking up at him with big Peter Lorre eyes and babbling about what crime really means that I'll allow him to at least stick around for that. I think he can get out of this still alive, but it would be a close call.

Kinsey Milhone: Why her, she wonders? Sure, she's a detective, but she's hardly a household name. She goes through all her files to see if this could be connected to anything she's ever worked on, and lo and behold, back when she was an insurance fraud investigator, they always worked with a forensic CPA named Edward Nashton. Now, what could have ever become of that guy...

Sherlock Holmes: Sherlock Holmes either immediately solves this or fails utterly, and it all comes down to how quickly you think he could decode things using a computer.

[dearanakin]

trust you | anakin skywalker: episode III

Warning: mentions of grieving, injury, cursing

Word count: 1.6k

Previous chapter | Read on Wattpad

*

Anakin

I woke up to the bright lights of the medical room, my eyes slowly opening to adjust my vision. I felt my body ache like hell, as though I had been run over by a truck.

I also felt a sharp pain on my left side and on my chest. Fuck. It took me several seconds to realize I wasn't alone there. Looking over from the corner of my eye, I noticed someone was attaching my metal arm back again.

It was (Y/N). I took a sharp breath and inhaled loudly. She got caught up, not expecting to see me awake. "Oh- I'm so sorry, did I wake you?".

She didn't manage to finish attaching the piece as she waited for a response, and I shook my head. I could say I was glad I have finally gotten it back, but I was beyond pissed.

My mouth was dry, and I was feeling like shit. I tried to lift my torso and sit up, but she stopped me right away. I shot her a confused and annoyed glare.

"You're not supposed to be moving too much, Master" She said in a whisper. "Do you need anything? I- I can let the doctors know you're awake. Luke fell asleep on the couch".

Then I looked on my left side and saw my little boy all curled up, deep in his sleep. I sighed, he must have been really worried about me. Confused, too.

It was taking all of me to not call her out after what happened to me. But I wasn't going to do that, not in front of Luke.

"I want you to finish this-" I looked over my faux arm. "And I want you to be out". My voice came out hoarse from the lack of speaking and drinking water.

(Y/N) looked at me in complete shock, but nodded and didn't say another word.

As soon as she finished it - which didn't take her much, since she was professional at it - I watched as she stood up from her chair. (Y/N) kept her gaze on the floor the entire time, not even noticing when I gripped my metal fingers around her wrist tightly.

Her eyes shot up to where I was holding her, and she hesitantly looked at me. "This is-" I had to clear my throat as my voice wouldn't come out. "This is your fault, I hope you know it".

I let go of her, staring at her back as she made her way out of the room. I pinched the bridge of my nose and muttered under my breath.

Lukey was still out, and I didn't want to wake him up.

-

It took me two fucking days to actually get released from the medical bay as they wouldn't let me get out at all. My stab wound was barely healed, even though they made sure I would be able to be up and walk.

I spent almost the entire day with Luke, helping him with his homework, as well as playing with his toys or teaching him a few mechanic skills I learned back in Tatooine.

When I could finally do something rather than being completely useless, I headed to the office where we usually plan our missions. I walked past the door and Cal hurriedly came to meet me with a hug.

I groaned from the touch and he realized he pushed the boundaries. "I'm sorry, Master! Jesus, I forgot about it for a second there. I'm just glad you're up and good".

He started rambling, and I placed a hand on his shoulder, calming him down, "I appreciate it".

I smiled briefly before sitting down on the desk, releasing a low sigh. It's only been two days and I already missed being out there.

After discussing for a couple of hours, we were all dismissed for a gathering outside the Temple. I excused myself and made my way to the dining hall, where Luke should be having lunch with his few friends and C-3PO.

I felt my spine become rigid and my hand went cold as I saw him bonding with (Y/N), again. I couldn't help but roll my eyes in annoyance, trying to simmer down. I haven't forgotten I was pretty mad for what happened.

"Luke!" I called out in a rather loud tone and he looked my way. The boy waved at me and proceeded to get back at what he was doing with her.

She barely looked at me and I knew she was keeping her guard up when I was around. I walked toward them, watching as she managed to handle a T-16 skyhopper toy. It was probably his.

-

NO POV

(Y/N) felt her heartbeat go off too fast, and she could hear her blood pumping through her veins. After what happened between them two days before, she couldn't even handle being near him again.

And the fact she was found making company for Luke made the situation even worse. She followed his steps as he approached them and sat next to the boy.

It was like he was never really calm. He was constantly angry or frowning at everyone and everything. The only moments he seems to be at peace is when he's with Luke.

"What did I tell you the other day?" Anakin mumbled, not even disguising how he glanced at her. His son pouted and apologized.

"He came to me, asking to help him with hi-" (Y/N) was about to explain but he cut her off.

"Didn't I make myself clear the other day? You have to stay close to 3PO" He pretty much sounded coarse, although he wasn't yelling.

"He said she's trustworthy, daddy. And she was helping me set up my toy" Luke kept his head down the whole time, not daring to look up at his father.

This is ridiculous, she thought. What? He thinks she's gonna literally lose it and kidnap him? Or just vanish with the kid without anyone noticing?

He huffed, still not giving two fucks if she was there or not. Anakin tried to look indifferent by the way his son was literally trusting a person he couldn't trust. Someone who was strange to them. Well, quite like it.

"I'm sorry, I have work to do" She gathered her things and rushed out of the table without even looking back.

Anakin took the toy from his son's little hands and gave it a look. "What's up with it?".

Luke sat on his lap and pointed to one of the wings. "One of the wings is hanging loose. I thought she could fix it, since she fixed your arm".

He sounded frustrated, especially because his father noticed how low the boy's voice came out. Anakin felt guilty about Luke and swallowed hard.

Maybe he could fix it himself. Or maybe he could ask some engineer or a Droid to do it.

He just didn't want to have to see her again.

-

He was definitely frustrated. He felt like he wasn't being a good father, like he wasn't able to actually educate his son and be there for him all the time. Even though he had time to rest his body and heal faster, Anakin felt worn out.

Obviously he noticed the way people looked at him, even his fellow Masters. It didn't matter to him to be honest, he already made himself clear that he didn't care about that.

His eyes were holding a shadow of sadness and frustration with himself; they weren't vibrant with the same determination he had before. The blue irises became cold and sad.

He was in the training room, practicing his movements with the newly fixed robotic arm. Anakin couldn't actually complain about the job they had done, because it seemed to work better than before.

The limb was polished, even. He swooned his lightsaber around the room, avoiding any abrupt movement to prevent any harm to his wounds.

It was a lot easier when Obi-Wan was around. He definitely had a good mood to practice, he was always supporting his apprentice. 

Sometimes, when it got too quiet, Anakin would hear his rough words shout out to his former Master.

"I hate you!" He had just lost the love of his life. "You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you".

"Were". "Loved". It felt like his heart got ripped out of his chest and stomped on.

After that, he promised he wouldn't trust anyone. Besides C-3PO and R2-D2, he knows he can barely trust the other Jedi he goes on missions with.

His mind goes way back. To the day his mother died. To the day Padmé died. To the day he felt betrayed by Obi-Wan. To the day Palpatine left him behind, beaten up and mourning for his losses.

It has been six years already. He should've gotten over it. He has Luke now. He has the Droids; and somewhat, he had Cal Kestis, who was a loyal Jedi and colleague.

His flesh knuckles were almost raw from the punches he was throwing at the punching bag. It was becoming hard to reach his relief that day. He let out a strangled groan as he threw his final jab, sending the bag flying.

Anakin fell to his knees, feeling defeated. He didn't want to cry out his sorrows, he told himself he was past that.

From the corner of his eyes, he felt like he was being watched. The shadow standing behind the closed doors was glancing at him with a knowing look.

They have been there before. 

@jackie-on-the-loose @adorbzliz @himesuedi @kingdomhate

[sincerehimbo]

hi baby angel v, how 2 shift? thanks!

the first chapter.

a common question asked is “how do i shift?” and that truly does depend on how YOU desire to see shifting as a whole.

let’s begin from the very beginning, the very basics of the basic.

intention. people will ALWAYS ALWAYS preach how intention is the key to shifting, but they never really explain what it is? intention is basically the emotion / motivation to do that thing.

to go a little more in depth i recommend this blog about intention written by @lunarshifting (link)

methods. are methods needed? absolutely not. if you feel they are needed, then they are. if you feel they are not, then they are not. they are nothing more than a “helping hand”

assumption. this is not really talked about if you were on a different platform (its more coming to light now and YAYYYY) but assumption is your bff FOR LIFE. shifting can be as easy or as difficult as you believe it to be. if you assume you gotta sleep with your big toe pointing north to shift, then that will be what makes you shift. if you assume you gotta do 17 backflips before the sunsets to shift, that is what will make you shift. get my drift?

a couple bloggers recommended for assumption would probably be @etherealkissed88 + @luckykiwiii101 + @yourstruly-babygirl ! all sweethearts too. only the best for my bffs ( and @stilljuststardust + @lunarshifting give lovely shifting advice and js general shit as well best people swear )

“but vincent i can’t figure out if a method is right for me….”

great! let’s rock and rift while i go into detail abt methods!

let’s think for a second! 💭 what do YOU want to do to shift?? because what you want is what will work out for you!! keep in mind, this list is NOT limited to anything you can take and leave anything or wtv you want!

music? great, let’s do something with music. waltz around with someone from your dr, repeat a scenario that the music reminds you of, anything of the sort.

visualization? dope! let’s put it to use. a tip that helped me is to treat your visualization like a memory rather than a distant place. even if you haven’t experienced it yet!

affirming? great, say a bunch of fun affirmations! make it personalized and fun, if it starts to feel like a chore switch it up!

following instructions? guided meditations and pre made methods are probably going to be the best fit for you!

using your senses? YAY let’s use that, what do you feel, smell, see, taste, and hear in your dr? see where that leads you.

no method? lucky you, breathe in, lay down, sit up, wtv you want! you’ll shift anyway, don’t stress!!

silence or noise? use those noises to get a feel for your dr. and use that silence to simulate your dr if that makes sense!

“but i have no idea what i want to do or what im good at..”

well let’s start there! is there anything you WANT to do? or can’t figure out where to figure where to begin? i promise you, the hardest part is js starting.

everyone has a want, so let’s start there. what’s your want?

.

.

.

got it? YAY if not. what you good at? you are welcome to pm me if you are still stuck, im creative as shit and i’m sure we can find a root or a small leaf that will point us right to a forest.

now let’s use that want to figure out what makes you tick.

desire? utilize it. don’t let anything stop you from getting there, not even this realities higher being. your desire is YOURS take it. don’t allow anything to stop you, for it is your right.

yearning? the classic “they miss you” is not exactly true nor false, for you are already there. however, doesn’t it feel weird you 2.0 is holding them or wtv? why not 1.0? why is 2.0 better than the original?? go.

UTILIZATION is something i will always vouch for. you know what to do, take what you need, leave what you don’t.

i hope this made sense.. blinks anyways LOVE YA ANGEL 🎀

[beefromanoff]

Project Mockingbird Ch. 20

summary: the mission, the safe house, the extracurriculars that follow.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: HAHAHAHA GUYS I fully did not intend for the story to go there today, but here we are. enjoy ;) LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge @cjand10 @capswife

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

I padded out of the bathroom in my trusty pajamas, the soft cotton ones that I had packed specifically for "casual, inconspicuous, asexual lounging," as Natasha had put it. I ignored the barely-there lace set she’d somehow snuck into my suitcase when I wasn’t looking. Bucky was tossing a thin blanket onto the couch, trying to make it look suitable to sleep on. It looked about as comfortable as a slab of concrete, one of those pieces of furniture that’s clearly for fashion rather than function. Especially considering his size, there was no world in which he’d get a good nights’ sleep on that thing.

"Do you have something against comfort, Barnes?" I quipped as I leaned against the doorframe, watching him attempt to make the blanket fit across the length of the couch.

He glanced up, eyes flicking down over my pajamas, making me keenly aware of my lack of bra. "Just figured I’d be a gentleman, that’s all."

I crossed my arms, my eyebrow arching in amusement. "Come on, there’s a perfectly good bed here. And it's big enough for, like, three of me. Or two of you."

Bucky stood up, hesitating for a fraction of a second. "You sure? I’ve slept in worse ––"

"I’m sure. Besides," I continued, walking over to the king-sized bed and patting the mattress, "if one of us has a nightmare, the other can play the hero. You know, wake the other up before it gets too bad?"

"That’s... actually not a bad idea," Bucky conceded, though he still looked as if he were mentally measuring the distance between the couch and the bed.

The silence stretched for a moment before he finally picked up his pillow and made his way to the other side of the bed. "If you start stealing the blankets, though, I’m building a fort."

"I solemnly swear to keep my blanket thievery to a minimum," I said, my tone mockingly serious as I climbed into bed next to him.

We both settled under the covers, maintaining a respectful, almost comical distance between us. I lay on my side, facing away from Bucky, my eyes staring at the wall as if it might suddenly become interesting. All I could think about was the weight of his body on the mattress, pulling me towards him. The warmth of him. The way I could just roll over, touch him…

The room was silent, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and our synchronized breathing. Every once in a while, I could hear Bucky shifting, as if he were also wrestling with the awkwardness of the situation. We’d agreed on a cool 66 degrees for the room, both of us embracing the likelihood that we’d wake up from a nightmare, panicked and sweaty. A cool room was a small comfort, an easy thing to agree on. At this moment, it served to keep us both from getting too warm in our full pajamas. My full length set had felt nice after a shower, but now, under the covers, it felt cumbersome. Like I was wearing too much clothing. I wondered if Bucky felt the same in his sweatpants and t-shirt. My normal sleep attire was a tank top and underwear, far less than I was currently wearing. What did he sleep in? A faded shirt and boxers? Boxers alone? I propped myself up on my elbows, reaching for the glass of water on my nightstand, clearing the thought from my head as my cheeks flushed. 

"Hey, Char?" His voice was soft in the darkness.

"Yeah?"

"If this were an actual date, I'd have said some smooth line about how you like your eggs in the morning.”

I chuckled, the sound muffled by my pillow. "Lucky for you, we’re just two spies in a bed. No lines necessary."

The tension seemed to ease a bit, and slowly, the space between us felt less like a wall we couldn’t cross. As sleep eventually claimed us, it was in a quiet understanding that for the first time in weeks, we weren't going to be alone with our nightmares. 

And miraculously, neither of us had one. 

When morning light spilled into the room, gently pulling me from the depths of an unprecedented peaceful sleep, I realized something had shifted—not just in the bed (which they had, by the way. I’d never seen such a violent sleeper, covers kicked off of his legs and one pillow on the ground), but perhaps in the silent agreement that we were in this mess together. I rolled over to face Bucky, whose eyes were already open, a trace of a smile on his lips.

"Morning," he said, the word simple, but not without warmth.

"Morning," I replied, feeling a surprising flicker of something like anticipation for the day ahead. 

“Coffee?” his voice was gruff, tired. Sexy?

“Coffee.”

“I’ll call room service.”

“Suddenly I’m remembering why I married you.”

______

Under the blazing sun, Charlotte lounged in the cabana, her gaze fixed on the two men seated at a table by the poolside bar. The earpiece nestled in her ear crackled to life as Bucky's voice filled her senses. Today was the day that the sale was supposed to take place. Sure enough, their buyer and seller were exactly where they’d predicted. Bucky, not exactly able to lounge at the pool without exposing his metal arm and therefore, his identity, was watching from the roof of a nearby villa. High enough that no one would be able to see him, but close enough that he had a perfect view of Charlotte.

Charlotte in that thin, stringy black bikini. Charlotte, laying back against the chair, propped up in a way that had the muscles in her stomach taut. Charlotte, the one who’s heartbeat he’d fallen asleep listening to last night. He shook his head, pressing a hand to his earpiece.

"Alright, Char, what's the plan?" His tone was serious, willing himself to switch to mission mode.

Charlotte smirked, adjusting her sunglasses as she replied, "Just sit tight, Tin Man. I've got this under control."

Bucky huffed a laugh, the sound tinged with a hint of exasperation. "Just don't get…distracted," he narrowed his eyes as a particularly confident set of men in Speedos walked in front of her.

Rolling her eyes, Charlotte scanned the scene before her, noting the men's movements. "Something tells me I’m not their type," she flipped a page on the magazine she was pretending to read, eyes still locked on their targets.

As one of the men pulled out a thumb drive, Bucky's voice grew more urgent. "They've got the goods. What's the play, Char?"

Charlotte's eyes narrowed, her mind racing as she formulated a plan. "Let me work my magic," she replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. “You got the camera ready?” 

“Yes…” His skepticism was evident, but he tugged the small drone from his backpack. Flipping it on, he felt it rise from his hand with a near-silent whir, soaring down to a vantage point above the pool. It was one of Stark’s newer inventions, equipped with the same stealth mode features as the Quinjets. Even in direct sunlight like today, it was completely invisible to the naked eye, making it perfect to transmit the video footage in real time. 

Bucky watched the scene below unfold. Both men leaned in over the table, clearly deep in conversation. One of them slid a small device, the zip drive, across the table. The other picked it up, examining it, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a thick envelope. Rounding the edge of the pool, Charlotte padded barefoot across the patio. She’d tied a sheer scarf around her hips, doing little to hide the skimpy swimsuit beneath. A sorry excuse for a cover-up, but one he couldn’t bring himself to look away from. She approached the men with calculated confidence, her smile coy. Holding eye contact with the buyer for just a fraction longer than normal politeness, she strode right by them and up to the bar. Leaning her elbows on the surface, she stuck her hips out ever so slightly. Both men clocked it, heads turned towards her backside. 

She could feel their gazes like a physical touch, exactly as she'd intended. Keeping her expression casual, she signaled the bartender. “Mojito, please,” she requested, her voice a melodic purr that carried just enough to ensure the men behind her could hear.

The bartender nodded, setting to work. As he did, Charlotte cast a sidelong glance at the pool’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The buyer and seller were still staring, their conversation momentarily forgotten. Charlotte allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.

“Put it on my tab.” A deep, mildly accented voice called from behind her. Bullseye.

When the bartender handed her the drink, Charlotte turned, making sure to force a blush into her cheeks “Oh, hi,” she said, her tone dripping with faux innocence. “You didn’t have to do that..”

The buyer—tall, with slicked-back hair and an expensive suit—smiled. “No problem at all,” he replied, eyes raking over her form, taking note of the absence of a ring on her left hand. The faux one she’d been given for the trip was sitting back on her nightstand. “Why don’t you join us? A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be alone.”

Charlotte’s smile widened. “Well, if you insist.” She slid into the empty seat, crossing her legs slowly. “What brings you gentlemen here?”

In her ear, Bucky’s voice crackled. “Careful Char,” he warned. She ignored him.

The men exchanged a glance. “Business,” the seller replied curtly. He was shorter, stockier, with a sharp look in his eyes that spoke of years spent dealing with shady transactions, things he didn’t speak freely about.

“Oh?” Charlotte arched an eyebrow, taking a sip of her drink. “What kind of business?”

The buyer leaned in, lowering his voice. “The kind that pays well. Really fucking well.”

Charlotte laughed softly, leaning onto her elbows in a way that pushed her chest forward. Neither of the men made an effort to pretend they weren’t looking. “Sounds like my lucky day.”

Bucky watched from his vantage point, his jaw clenched. Charlotte was playing her part perfectly, but he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him. He adjusted the drone’s angle from his phone ever so slightly, ensuring he had a clear view of the table. As much as he wanted to see the show she was putting on, the point of the footage was to capture their faces, so he positioned the drone behind her.

Charlotte ran a finger along the rim of her glass, her gaze fixed on the zip drive that remained loosely held in the buyer’s left hand. “That looks vintage,” she remarked, nodding towards the watch on the same wrist. “Are you a collector?”

The buyer’s smile widened. “You could say that.” He set the zip drive down on the table, reaching over to tug up the sleeve on his left arm, holding it up for her to see. “1975 Rolex, custom made. Worth a fortune.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened slightly, feigning interest. “Really? I’ve always been fascinated by watches. Mind if I take a closer look?”

The seller hadn’t taken his eyes off her chest since she’d leaned on the table, and the buyer, clearly taken with her, unfastened and handed it over. “Be careful with it, darling. It’s not something you come across every day.”

“Of course,” she marveled. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” A mischievous look in her eye that showed a bit more than innocence. Her fingers brushed against the buyer’s as she took the watch, the touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. She continued to ooh and ahh turning the watch over in her hands, asking questions she couldn’t give less of a shit about just to keep the men distracted.

Bucky’s grip on his phone tightened. The look in both men's eyes…he knew exactly what they wanted. Even if Charlotte was a professional, even if she could hand their asses to them with one arm tied behind her back, even if she was only his wife for the sake of the mission…it made his blood run hot. He willed her to work faster, to get out of there before one of them got handsy and made him do something he’d regret.

After twenty minutes that felt like an eternity, the buyer was fastening the watch back on his hand, the seller scrawling a phone number onto a cocktail napkin. Charlotte was cradling her chin in her hands, making doe eyes as she thanked them profusely for her drink. When the napkin was handed to her, she held it to her chest as she stood, blowing them a kiss before turning and striding away. She winked as she turned, her smile teasing. “Don’t miss me too much.”

 The men didn’t take their eyes off of her. 

Bucky swore, swiftly making his way back to the room.

As soon as she was out of sight, she quickened her pace, switching from the exaggerated swing of her hips to a brisk walk. 

“Buck,” She breathed, pressing a finger to her ear. 

“I’m here,” His answer was instantaneous. “Are you okay?”

“Meet me at the room,” She tried to keep the grin out of her voice. “Hurry!”

When she slid the keycard into the lock and pressed the door open, Bucky was already there, pacing. He stopped when he saw her, relief flooding his features. “Did you get it?”

“What, is it my first mission or something?” She slid her fingers into the triangle of fabric covering her left breast, tugging out a small black zip drive. Tossing it to him, Charlotte held up a thick envelope with a grin. “And a little something extra,” she said, tossing it onto the table with a thud. “But we’re not in the clear yet. They’ll notice soon enough.”

“Char,” He shook his head as if he wasn’t sure whether to scold or commend her for the envelope of cash she’d somehow snuck out without a single piece of fabric on her body large enough to cover it. Letting out a small chuckle, he tossed the drive back to her. “Then let’s get out of here.”

They gathered their things quickly, filling their small suitcases and –– in Charlotte’s case, changing into something a little less revealing. With a crochet sundress slipped over her bikini, she tucked the zip drive into her purse and held the door open. Bucky, one suitcase in each hand, strode right through.

“Nice work,” Bucky said, his voice low as they walked. “You handled that perfectly.”

Charlotte smirked. “What can I say? I’m good at what I do.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, you are. Now let’s get this back to Stark.”

“Wait,” She paused. “Give me ten minutes. Can you have the Quinjet on the roof of that villa by the pool?” 

“Char,” His tone was warning. 

“Ten minutes,” She was already walking away.

Bucky looked up, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Where the hell are you going? We got what we came for.”

Charlotte held up a key card as she walked backwards. “This little beauty gives us access to Mr. Seller’s room. Who knows what other goodies we might find?”

“Charlotte, we can’t risk it. We need to get out of here now,” Bucky insisted, his voice tight with concern.

“Relax, Buck. I’ve got this. Just get the Quinjet ready and meet me on the roof in ten,” she waved him off, rounding the corner.

“Charlotte!” Bucky called after her, but she was gone, leaving him to swear under his breath. He had no choice but to follow her lead and hope she knew what the hell she was doing.

Charlotte moved through the resort with practiced ease, her heart pounding with adrenaline. She was thankful she put a dress on over the swimsuit, but admittedly could have opted for better shoes than the sandals she’d slid into. She slipped past other guests, too caught up in their own vacation to notice her at all. Sliding the key card into the lock, she felt a surge of triumph as the door clicked open. 

Inside, she quickly scanned the room, her eyes landing on a sleek laptop and a burner phone on the desk. She grabbed both, stuffing them into her bag. As she turned to leave, she heard the unmistakable sound of security personnel approaching, an angry male voice giving them a description. Brunette, around 5’7, nice tits, upper twenties. Well, they got almost all of it right. Her pulse quickened, and she ducked out of the room, making a swift exit.

The resort was now teeming with security, their radios crackling with alerts about a thief on the property. Charlotte moved swiftly, weaving through staff hallways and down the staircases, her senses on high alert. Her head was down, eyes concealed behind sunglasses as she tried her best to be stealthy in the world’s least conducive footwear.

“Hey, you!” A voice called out from behind her. She didn’t stop to see who it was. “Excuse me, ma’am, we need to ask you a few questions.” 

Charlotte paused just long enough to turn around and give the approaching guard a bewildered look. She spoke in rapid French, her tone laced with confusion and a hint of panic. “Je suis désolée, je ne parle pas anglais! Je cherche ma chambre, où est la réception?”

The guard hesitated, thrown off by the sudden language barrier. He glanced around for backup, clearly unsure how to proceed. “Uh, ma’am, we just need to—”

“Merci, merci!” Charlotte interrupted, nodding vigorously before turning and continuing her hurried pace down the hallway. The guard, still unsure, didn’t pursue immediately, giving her the precious seconds she needed.

As she rounded another corner, she slipped into a staff-only hallway, ducking through a door that led to a service corridor. The walls were lined with cleaning supplies and utility carts, providing some cover as she moved. She could hear footsteps echoing behind her, growing closer.

Charlotte spotted a side exit leading to the outdoor pool area and darted through it, emerging into the bright sunlight. The sudden change in environment disoriented her pursuers momentarily, but she knew she had to keep moving.

“Ma’am, stop right there!” Another guard shouted, now joined by a second one. They were closing in.

Without missing a beat, Charlotte kicked off her sandals and broke into a full sprint, her bare feet slapping against the hot pavement. She zigzagged through the resort, dodging guests and weaving between loungers and pool chairs.

Her heart pounded as she approached the pool, diving over a low hedge and slipping through a narrow gap between two cabanas. She could hear the guards shouting, their frustration evident as they tried to keep up.

“Bucky, I need that Quinjet now!” she hissed into her comms, her voice low but urgent.

“On it,” Bucky replied, the hum of the Quinjet’s engines audible in the background.

Charlotte spotted the rooftop access door ahead, but so did the guards closing in on her. She raced up the final flight of stairs, her muscles burning with the effort.

Bursting through the rooftop door, she saw the Quinjet hovering just above, the hatch open and waiting for her. With a final burst of speed, she launched herself towards it, hands grasping the edge as she hauled herself inside.

Bucky reached out, pulling her up the rest of the way. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger.

Charlotte grinned, breathless but exhilarated. “I was thinking we could use a little more intel. And look what I found,” she said, pulling the laptop and phone from her bag.

Bucky shook his head, his frustration evident. “You could have been caught. Or worse.”

“But I wasn’t,” Charlotte winked, her tone light. “You worry too much, Buck.”

“That’s because you don’t worry enough,” he shot back, his voice edged with concern. “One of these days, your luck is going to run out.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, breathless and grinning. “But not today.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just get out of here.”

As the Quinjet rose higher into the sky, Charlotte settled into her seat, her pulse finally starting to slow. She glanced over at Bucky, who was still fuming, his jaw set in a tight line.

“Hey,” she said softly, nudging his arm. “We did good today. And now we have even more to bring back to Stark.”

Bucky looked at her earnest smile, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah. We did.”

Charlotte leaned back, closing her eyes as the adrenaline began to fade. She knew Bucky was right—her risk-taking tendencies could be dangerous. But she also knew that without them, she sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten this far. It was a fine line to walk, but she was willing to walk it for the sake of the mission—and, if she was honest, for the thrill of it all.

The Quinjet sped across the sky to their rendezvous point, the cities below them all blurring together. It was just another day in their complicated, unconventional lives, but for Charlotte, it was a day well spent. And as she felt Bucky’s gaze linger on her, she knew that despite his frustration, he couldn’t deny the spark of excitement that her antics always seemed to ignite.

As they settled in for the rest of the flight, Bucky shot Charlotte a sideways glance, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "You're something else, Char," he remarked, a wry smile betraying his stern tone.

Charlotte grinned back at him, her pulse still racing with the thrill of the chase. "Just trying to keep the spark alive.” 

He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“In our marriage,” She winked. “Duh.” 

Bucky snorted, shaking his head. "If this is your idea of a marriage, I'm not sure I can handle the honeymoon."

Charlotte leaned closer, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, come on, you know you love it. Admit it, Barnes, you were on the edge of your seat watching me back there."

He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, on the edge of my seat ready to jump in and save your reckless ass."

"Please," she scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "I had everything under control. You worry too much."

Bucky's smile faded slightly, his expression turning serious. "And you don't worry enough. You can't just keep pulling stunts like that, Char. One day, you might not be so lucky."

Charlotte's playful demeanor softened for a moment. "I know, Bucky. But a very wise tutor of mine once told me to know the plan, but never be afraid to pivot during battle. And besides," she added, her grin returning, "isn't that why you love working with me? Keeps you on your toes."

He shook his head, a reluctant chuckle escaping his lips. "A wise tutor, huh?"

“Don’t let it go to your head.” 

“I’ll do my best.” He shot her a sidelong look. “No more stunts like these, okay? I’m too old for this shit.”

She saluted him with a mock-serious expression. "Aye aye, Captain. No more near-death experiences...for today."

Bucky rolled his eyes again but couldn't suppress his grin. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here you are, stuck with me," she teased, leaning back in her seat.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Just promise me you'll be careful, Char. I don't want to have to explain to Nat why we lost her favorite agent."

Charlotte placed a hand over her heart in a mock pledge. "I solemnly swear to be as careful as my reckless nature allows."

Bucky shook his head, but his eyes were warm. "That's a start."

______

An hour into the flight back to the compound, they’d received an incoming call from Agent Hill. Apparently the notorious Midwestern spring storms were looming in their path, making the normally simple flight a little more treacherous.

Bucky rubbed his jaw as he leaned against the console of the Quinjet, exchanging an exasperated glance with Charlotte. "Maria, what do you mean we can't fly? We're in the sturdiest fucking aircraft there is."

Maria Hill's voice crackled over the comms, her tone firm but sympathetic. "I know, Barnes, but we've got some bad storms rolling directly through your path. It's not safe to be up there right now. You need to find somewhere to land and wait it out until the weather clears."

Charlotte crossed her arms, frustration evident in her voice. "Agent Hill, we have intel we need to get to you. We’re so close to being home, just another two hours ––"

"I understand, Charlotte," Maria interrupted, her tone firm. "But your safety comes first. You won't be any good to us if you end up caught in a storm or worse. We received the drone footage from Sergeant Barnes, any other intel can wait until you get back tomorrow"

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She's right, Char. We can't risk it."

Charlotte shot him a defiant look. "Where the hell are we supposed to go? Where even are we?"

Natasha's voice cut in over the comms, her tone calm but authoritative. "You’re over Oklahoma. I’d recommend detouring south to avoid the storm cell, hiding out in our North Texas safe house. I’ll send over the coordinates."

Bucky exchanged a resigned glance with Charlotte before nodding. "Fine. It better not be one of the shitty old ones."

"It’s one of Stark’s old vacation homes," Maria replied. "I think you’ll find it…comfortable. Just be safe, both of you. We'll regroup once the weather clears."

With a heavy sigh, Bucky switched off the comms, the tension in the cockpit palpable. They were so close to being back home, but now they were grounded by forces beyond their control. As Bucky scanned the horizon, the storm clouds loomed ominously in the distance, making Charlotte’s stomach flop. She’d grown up in a cold, frigid climate. Summer storms and tornadoes still made her uneasy, especially combining an unfamiliar environment. 

But she wasn’t the captain, and they’d been given a direct order. Sighing, Charlotte leaned back in her seat, knowing there was no amount of insubordination that would get her out of this one. 

As the Quinjet touched down in the field next to the large safe house, Bucky and Charlotte stared out the windshield, both sighing deeply. The rain was coming down in sheets, making visibility near zero. They could barely see the house thirty yards in front of them. With a sense of resignation, they grabbed the bags, hurried out of the Quinjet and dashed towards the safety of the house. The rain soaked them through in a matter of seconds as they sprinted across the yard.

They stumbled up the porch steps, clumsy and slipping, as they reached for the door handle, their soaked clothes clinging to their skin. Bucky punched in the security code, and with a click, the door swung open. 

They practically tumbled inside, Bucky dropping both of their bags on the ground with a wet thunk. Water pooled at their feet as they stood in the entrance hall, dripping onto the undoubtedly expensive hardwood floor.

Charlotte let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through her sodden hair. "Well, this is…not how I saw today going."

Bucky scowled, raising an eyebrow at her. "Funny, I’ve thought that several times today."

“Don’t be a dick.” She rolled her eyes. 

As the rain continued to pour outside, Charlotte stood dripping on the rug, her soaked dress clinging to her curves, her hair plastered to her skin. Grabbing the hem of her dress, she tugged it over her head, revealing that damn black bikini underneath. Pulling it over her head, she paused, the soaked material knotted in her long, dark hair, already curling from the rain. She hesitated, glancing back at Bucky, her expression a mix of frustration and amusement as she attempted to tug the ends of her hair free.

"Good thing I’m wearing a swimsuit," she muttered, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Bucky watched her, momentarily stunned into silence by the sight before him. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her, the way the rain droplets ran down her body, the way her muscles moved beneath her skin as she tangled with her hair. His heart raced in his chest, his blood burning in his veins.

"Let me help you with that," Bucky finally said, his voice low and husky as he stepped forward. Moving closer to Charlotte, he reached out to gently untangle the dress from her hair, his fingers brushing against her shoulder with a feather-light touch. 

Charlotte's breath caught in her throat as Bucky's touch sent a shiver down her spine. She met his gaze, her eyes locking with his in a silent exchange. He easily freed the dress, letting it drop to the floor. There was a palpable tension in the air, thick with things they’d repressed, fought against, lied to themselves about. Now, everything that had previously stood in their way was nowhere to be found. There was no mission, no teammates sharing a wall, no Sam to come interrupt them. 

In a way, it felt like they’d lost their safety net. Nothing stood between them and certain death. 

Nothing stood between them at all. 

"Thanks," Charlotte murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she stepped back, the space between them suddenly feeling charged with electricity.

Bucky swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure. He felt his grip on himself loosening, slipping away. His fists clenched at his sides. Closing his eyes, he swallowed hard, trying to remember any reason he shouldn’t do what his body was telling –– begging him to do. 

He felt her touch first. 

Her hands on his leather jacket. They gripped the lapels, pulling it back, down his arms. It dropped to the floor. 

Her hands found the hem of his t-shirt, slid beneath it. His skin burned under her touch, where she brushed his stomach as she lifted the shirt. Raising his arms, their eyes locked as she reached up to pull it over his head. His hair was soaked, a few loose strands plastered to his face. Giving in to her temptation, she ran her hands down his body. Her fingers trailed over his collarbone, over the ridge where his arm met his shoulder, over his chest and the muscles that rippled across his abdomen. She let her eyes roam over him unapologetically, drinking up every muscle, every scar, every glint of his arm in the low light. When she looked back up to meet his gaze, she almost didn’t recognize the man staring down at her.

There was a wild look in his eye that made Charlotte forget who she was, who he was. It burned into her, making her feel naked in ways far beyond just clothing. 

Without breaking eye contact, he kicked off his boots. His hands went to his belt, unfastening it, unbuttoning his jeans, lowering the zipper. He paused, seeming to come back to himself for a moment. They stood there, still soaking wet, in the entryway. Rain pounded against the roof, wind howling outside. Charlotte was in a black bikini, Bucky in unbuttoned jeans. Both of them showing more skin to the other than they’d ever dared. 

A moment passed between them. Shallow breathing. Hungry eyes. Thunderous heartbeats. 

Slowly, tortuously, Charlotte reached up and brushed her wet hair to one side. Her eyes remained locked on Bucky as she tugged on one string of her bikini top. The knot on the back of her neck instantly unraveled, the top falling down to her stomach, revealing her bare chest to him. His breath caught in his throat, his pants feeling tighter. She reached her hands down to the second knot, tugging on it before letting the whole swimsuit top join the rest of their discarded clothing on the floor. 

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, unable to formulate another thought. 

Charlotte took a step towards him, closing the gap between them. She looked up at him, cocking her head ever so slightly. “Is that an offer?” 

Whatever leash he’d had on his restraint snapped. 

Bucky reached out, his hand cupping Charlotte's cheek as he leaned in closer, his lips mere inches from hers. His heart hammered in his chest, every nerve in his body on edge with anticipation.

Charlotte's breath caught in her throat as she felt Bucky's touch, his warmth seeping into her skin and setting her ablaze. She met his gaze, her eyes dark with longing, silently urging him to take the next step.

And then, in a heartbeat, it happened. Bucky closed the final distance between them, his lips crashing into hers. It was hard and ravenous and impatient and greedy. His hand slid from her cheek to the nape of her neck, tangling in her wet hair. His other hand found her waist, gripping her hard with cold metal fingers. Her arms wrapped around his torso, trailing down his back. She dug her nails in ever-so-slightly, eliciting a low moan from him, devoured by their kiss. 

The kiss was a mess of wet skin and lust, it was sloppy and desperate. For a fleeting instant, nothing else mattered but the electrifying connection between them, the raw intensity of their desire igniting like a wildfire. It was a kiss of longing and longing, a silent confession of the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

A big fuck you to every single time they’d repressed their feelings, every single time they’d fought the urge to cross this line in the sand.

Charlotte’s hands slipped into his waistband, tugging his soaked jeans down over his hips. Bucky stepped out of them, leading Charlotte backwards without breaking the kiss. They stepped backwards through the dark entryway, dripping water across the floor. Charlotte’s hands gripped either side of his face as she followed his lead, one of his hands on her lower back, the other outstretched behind her. With a thud, his hand collided with a wall, immediately backing her against it. Their bare chests collided, skin sticky from the rain and warm with desire. 

In one movement, both of Charlotte’s hands were pinned above her head in a vibranium grip. Bucky angled his head, reaching up to cup her jaw as he slid his tongue along her lower lip. A whimper, a whine escaped her lips, only serving to ignite him further. Sliding a knee between her thighs, Charlotte nearly gasped at the sensation. She writhed against his thigh, chasing this strange and euphoric feeling as he rubbed against her. His hand dropped from her jaw, trailing down her neck, across her breasts, down her stomach. It reached around behind her and slid into her bikini bottoms, squeezing her ass so tightly she sucked in a breath. She’d never felt this good, felt this needy, this desperate. 

She’d never done this before. 

Her heart thudded in her chest as Bucky released her hands, bringing both of his down underneath her, lifting her up until her back was against the wall and her legs were wrapped around him. She locked her ankles behind his back, pulling his hips even closer to hers. He was rock hard, pressing against the spot threatening to ignite her whole body. Wiggling her hips, she ground herself into him.

“Oh, God ––” He closed his eyes, throwing his head back as her hips pressed against him. 

When he brought his head back down, he pressed his forehead to Charlotte’s, both of their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Hearts pounded, chests heaved. For a moment they stayed, pinned against the wall, holding each other. 

“Char,” He groaned. 

“Mmm,” The noise she made was somewhere between a reply and a moan as she ran her hands through his hair. 

“Do you want this?” 

She paused, hands freezing on his neck. 

Hell yes, fuck yes, she absolutely wanted this. This sensation, this feeling, everything that was just happening. She wanted it to never, ever end. She wanted to feel him, she wanted to give herself to him, let this aggressive and demanding version of James Buchanan Barnes take as much of her as he needed. 

“Buck…” She breathed, closing her eyes. 

“Hey,” He slowly lowered her to the ground, ensuring she was steady on her feet before reaching up to cup her cheeks. “Hey, what’s wrong? We don’t have to do this, we don’t ––”

“No,” She met his gaze, eyes determined. “I want this. I want…this.” Rising onto her tiptoes, she gripped the back of his head, bringing his lips to hers in a slow, wet, deep kiss. They slowly separated, Charlotte dropping back down to her normal height. “I want it all…so badly. I just,” She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. “I don’t know how.” 

A moment of silence passed between them. 

“You don’t know how…” He spoke the words slowly, as if he was trying to figure out what they mean. 

“I mean, I never have.” Her eyes met his, willing, begging him to understand. “I don’t know what to do.” 

“Oh,” Bucky's gaze softened as he realized what Charlotte was trying to tell him. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. "Oh." he repeated, his voice filled with understanding. 

"Charlotte, that's nothing to be ashamed of." He paused, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort. "It's okay. We don't have to rush into anything. We can take our time." His hands slid down the backs of her arms, gently, softly.

Charlotte's eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, and she tangled her fingers in his own as they reached down her arms. "What if I don’t want to take my time," she breathed, her voice trembling slightly. 

“Char…”

"Bucky.” She squeezed his hands. “I want this. I want to do this. I want to learn. With you. I trust you."

Bucky's heart swelled, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll teach you," he whispered, his lips brushing against her skin. "We'll go slow. I'll show you everything, and if you ever want to stop, you just tell me, okay?"

She nodded, her insides throbbing at his gentleness. Bucky lifted her chin, making sure she looked into his eyes. "We'll start with the basics," he said, his voice steady and comforting. "We'll go at your pace."

“Can we skip the basics and go back to where we just were?” She pleaded, bringing his hands up to her breasts. A groan escaped his lips as he squeezed, ever-so-gently. His thumbs grazed her nipples before trailing back down to her hips. 

“If you want me to teach you…you have to let me start from the beginning.” A devilish grin.

He leaned in again, his lips capturing hers in a slow, tender kiss. This time, there was no rush, no urgency. It was a kiss filled with promise and patience, a kiss that told her he was in no hurry and that he valued her comfort above all else.

Charlotte melted into the kiss, her hands slowly finding their way to his shoulders. She felt the heat of his body, the steady beat of his heart against her chest. It was a feeling of safety, of being cherished.

Bucky's hands moved gently, exploring the curves of her body with a reverence that made her feel beautiful and desired and fuck, so impatient. He took his time, tantalizing her. As his hands caressed her back, her sides, and finally the soft skin of her belly, Charlotte felt like she was going to boil over.

When he finally broke the kiss, she was breathless but smiling. "How was that?" Bucky asked softly, his forehead resting against hers.

"Perfect," Charlotte whispered, her voice strained. "But can we get to the next part, please."

He smirked, his thumb gently tracing the outline of her jaw. "What’s the rush, Char?"

She groaned, leaning her head back. “You’re killing me, Buck,” 

“Am I?” He cocked his head in a way she’d never seen, mouth slightly agape. His hand trailed down her stomach, slid between her legs, making her bite her lip so hard it nearly split. Metal fingers slid the band of black fabric to the side, making a long, leisurely swipe through her. A truly pathetic whimper escaped her lips as he pulled his hand back up, examining his fingers in the dim lighting. His gaze darkened as he looked her dead in the eye, bringing his fingers to his lips and slowly sucking the first two.

“Bucky,” Charlotte whined. “Please.” 

Bucky's grin widened, and he took her hand. “For the next part,” He led her towards a long hallway. “I think we’ll need a bed.” 

[kazvha]

"Realistic?"/weird headcanons I had for Kayden

Notes: Yet another 'don't take this too seriously' post🥴

1. Does the reader have a chance with Kayden?

• Let's be real, you wouldn't even know who Kayden is because you're a mere human

• A normal day in his life consists of waking up at 5 am, going on a run with Jiwoo, training with Jiwoo and also instructing him, maybe taking an afternoon nap, training again, going to sleep with his force control activated and repeat

• So he never even thought about having romantic feelings for someone. His main goal is to become stronger and to defeat strong people

• But let's say you're an awakener and you know who Kayden is. You still would have no chance to get to know him because he thinks that everyone is approaching him for their own interest. That's just how the awakened world is. And if you two fought against each other, you would probably hold a grudge against him like the other awakeners

• Your best bet would be having a connection to Jiwoo since Kayden's life revolves around him right now.

• Idk, maybe you would have to work at Shinhwa and take care of Jiwoo kinda like Inhyuk

• You would have to be very persistent and keep visiting Jiwoo at his house for Kayden to notice you. And you would have to find out his secret of him being a cat for him to lower his guard around you

2. Oddly, very oddly specific hcs:

• He doesn't take care of his hair like that. When he found out that shampoo existed, (before that he washed his hair with his bodywash) he bought a specific 3 in 1 Shampoo and he never went back since. That's the only thing he puts in his hair

• Even so his hair is somewhat silky and nice. But he's so annoyed by the strands that fall out of his bun. He thought way too many times about shaving all his hair off (imagine Kayden with a buzzcut)

• But he only cuts his hair when he notices it growing past his collarbones. "Ah, it's that time again... Why does it grow so fast??"

• He has no fashion sense. At all. So he sticks to white or black shirts and black pants because that outfit can be used for any casual and professional settings

• He's been wanting to pierce his ears for a long time but he doesn't know a good place where he can do it. He's too lazy to do it

• His lips are so dry it hurts me. He doesn't even notice it when his lip is bleeding. Someone bring him some chapstick pls

• He doesn't know how social media works and doesn't have any accounts. He only uses his phone for text messages and calls

• If there was an Instagram or X for awakeners there would be so many fan accounts dedicated to Kayden. And every time he fights someone, the whole platform blows up with posts about him

• He can cook. Kayden has lived alone his whole life and he somehow had to feed himself with cheap ingredients. Over the years his improvised meals became better and more delicious

• He's the worst when it comes to cleaning dishes though. He hates it. He would rather take the trash out than do the dishes

• One day a girl told him that she was jealous of his long eyelashes. He shrugged her off, but since then he thinks about her statement every once in a while. Kayden would look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and think 'They're not that long though.'

• He still didn't lose hope that he'll become a skinnier cat if he trains enough and that's probably one of his main goals these days. Who cares about getting stronger? He just wants to lose the cat fat😩

• He often gets nightmares about being stuck in his cat form and never getting out again

• He speaks Korean and Chinese fluently and can also converse in English quite well

• He only wears these footies socks, these no-show socks. Who needs normal socks?

• Speaking about socks, he sleeps without socks on.

sorry.

[cbrownjc]

Helloo, what is your final guess/take on the episode 8, do you think we will see real Lestat in dubai holding or over or even close to Louis's burnt body or do you think we will only see Lestat waking up from the coma state? Reading your predictions gives me some relief on Loustat so thank you for sharing! <3

Hello! I'm glad you liked my predictions. 🙂

So I think what will happen in episode 2x08 will all depend on if we get some kind of visual confirmation before then regarding whether Lestat is in a coma-like sleep in the Al Shafar Tower or not.

Because I think that being revealed before the Merrick event happens would dictate which of the two things the show would do.

If we see Lestat in his coma-like state before (or during) Episode 2x08, then I think the final shot would just be Lestat opening his eyes. If we don't get a reveal of his coma-like state before that episode (or even in that episode), then I think it'll be Lestat there with Louis' burnt body -- or at least entering the room where Louis' burnt body is.

Because you don't want to confuse the audience whichever way you go. Suppose you don't reveal Lestat's coma-like state and just end with Lestat opening his eyes. In that case, you risk leaving the viewing audience, especially those who've never read the books, just rather . . . underwhelmed. ("Okay, so Lestat is somewhere and just woke up and . . . wait, that's it?")

So if the show does go with that scenario for an ending, Lestat's whereabouts -- and why he's "asleep" -- would not only have to be revealed first but explained a little bit at first as well, IMO. At least for it to have any real cliffhanger impact.

So, for that reason, at the moment, I lean more toward the second scenario being the one that happens -- which is Lestat being there or arriving in the place where Louis' bunt body is, and that being the first time we, the audience, see him.

Because I'm actually starting to think that the show is going to keep the info about Lestat's whereabouts in the modern day a mystery right up until the very last moment/episode. And him just "arriving" in Dubai at the end would still keep some of the mystery of where he's been all this time open to speculation going into Season 3.

Plus, given everything that is going on in Season 2 already, I don't know anymore if the show will have any time to actually exposition dump about why Lestat is in a "coma-like" state. Which you would very much have to do if you reveal that he's in that state beforehand; and especially if it is one related to the events of Memnoch the Devil which, for me, makes the most sense for it to be. (Armand knowing that he's immune to sunlight hints towards that timeline placement IMO.)

This is all based on the assumption that I'm correct that Season 2 is going to end with the Merrick event of course. 🙂

And I'm glad my predictions gave you some relief, you're welcome!

[bunnihearted]

🏥🦷

[icterid-rubus]

😕

[applecherry108]

[to the tune of the Lego Movie’s “Everything is Awesome”]

Everything is stressful! 🙃

Every-thing causes anxiety! 🙃

Everything is stressful!! 🙃🙃

When you have ADHD! 🙃🙃🙃

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[boomingsmile]

who gave sharp the audacity to be so kind, loving, sweetest person. D:< no amount of words i can put up will ever be able to contain the vibe he has; i desperately need a drink with him and i dont even drink and he doesn't even exist!