#Rebecca: what (derogatory)

[the-golden-ghost]

I finished Rebecca and what

[thevillainswhore]

A Forbidden Invitation

Pairing: Best Friend’s Dad!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 11.5k

Summary: You think a one night stand from the summer, the best fuck of your life, is a done deal — a single, heated encounter that now lives vividly in your memories. But you learn that your actions have consequences when you befriend a new student, starting in the new term, and she invites you over to meet her Dad.

Warnings: Age gap, flashback, betrayal of friendship, manipulation, coercion, reader has severe daddy issues and self esteem problems, derogatory names, daddy kink, praise kink, smut, kissing, nipple play, blowjob, throat fucking, choking, fingering, pussy slapping, p in v sex, squirting.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics and dividers by @rookthorne

“Come on, babe!” Rebecca whined at the edge of your bed. “You’re telling me a weekend away from this shithole doesn’t sound good?” 

It had been a whole hour of your friend begging you to come back home with her for your midterm break and while you usually had the patience of a saint, it was difficult to keep composed as she refused to back down to your unacceptable reasoning.

You sighed, finally closing your laptop with an inwards huff and coming to terms that you would not be getting any more work done. Blowing out a breath, you leveled your gaze onto her. 

“Becs,” you treaded carefully, mindful of her feelings. “It’s very sweet of you. But, I really need to get my work finished.” Rebecca’s face fell sullen and you rushed to explain. “I just like my time alone, y'know? I concentrate better.”

Her brunette hair fell over her eyes as she bowed her head. This girl really knew how to put on a show and you playfully rolled your eyes at her dramatics. But as she lifted her head with a pout and her wide, shining ocean blues, you knew you were done for. 

Oh no. The puppy eyes.

“Hey!” You pointed at her. “No—stop that! I’m not changing my mind.” 

The intensity of her stare only worsened while she slowly gained on you. “But what am I gonna tell my Dad when he asks when you’re not there?” 

“Wait.” Clarity hit you then and you held your hand up to stop your friend in her tracks. With a glare you questioned, “Did you already say I was coming?” 

The guilty twitch of her eye said it all. “Maybe—“

“Becca!” 

“I couldn’t help it!” she swore. “My dad invited you, I couldn’t tell him no.” 

“He invited me?” you asked, surprised. 

“Yeah. The day we met, he called to see how I was doing—asked if I had made any new friends.” 

She shrugged. “We’ve moved around a lot ever since I can remember and trying to fit in somewhere…” Her voice suddenly grew quiet as she solemnly whispered, “I’ve never had a real friend before. You’re the only one who’s been able to stick around for so long and he really wants to meet you.”

The frustration embedded in you faded out to make way for the sudden ache in your heart. To your knowledge, Rebecca was a new student who transitioned to your college in the middle of the recent school year. Both of you had a couple of classes together and the first time you ever saw her still reigned fresh in your mind. 

The doors to the auditorium crashed open as she stumbled in late and out of breath to her first class. Strands of her brown hair fell from the messy bun on the top of her head and her cheeks coloured bright red; it pained you to watch her embarrassment as a room of over a hundred stared at her, along with the professor. And so began your friendship when you rushed out of your seat to help her with her huge stack of books, ushering her to the back to sit next to you. 

Since then the two of you had been inseparable. Rebecca was a genuine, lovely girl — sweet and a breath of fresh air to your college life. She never failed to let you know how appreciative she was to your kindness of friendship, so even though you had only known her for a short while, it felt as though she was a true friend; one who would be staying around for a while.

Sighing in defeat, there was no way you could decline the offer after hearing she had been gushing over you to her Dad. “Okay, okay—Fine. I’ll come— AH!”

You squealed as she leapt onto you, knocking you back against your mattress as she profusely thanked you while vibrating with joy. The giggles and uncontrolled laughter that filled your room masked the unexplainable dread knotted in your stomach. But not wanting to tarnish Rebecca’s excitement, you let go of your worries for the time being. 

Going to the club alone wasn’t an activity you made a habit out of; you understood the dangers of your vulnerability to men who couldn’t take a hint. 

However, that summer night — a hazy memory now in the present — forbade common sense and instead, threw it out of the window. Not to be seen again until you woke up the next day. 

The stress of the week had gotten too much for you; too many assignments needing to be handed in at once, your parents bombarding you with passive aggressive texts about their ongoing disappointment with you and the cherry on top of it all, you had caught your boyfriend cheating on you with the girl he had sworn you had nothing to worry about. 

So of course, that week in particular had tested you. But instead of moping around your dorm room, your mind unhelpfully persisted with the motion to get shitfaced drunk and allow future you to worry about your problems. In the moment, you thought that to be your most genius idea of the week — letting your hair down in a sweaty nightclub around people you didn’t know and not caring about the consequences sounded perfect. 

In hindsight, it was probably one of your most beautiful mistakes. 

You remembered it all clearly. The newfound freedom of not giving a fuck, the humid air with the bass of the speakers invading your ears — every small detail added to the atmosphere as you were in your own world in the middle of the dancefloor, erotically swaying your hips side to side and running your hands through your hair. 

The short cocktail dress you had worn to make yourself feel good illuminated your curves while also giving you the liberty to dance without limit to your movement. You wanted to forget for a while — go crazy and let loose. 

Which was why the stunning pair of cerulean eyes that pinned you down across the room from the bar was your ticket to a night of fun — everything you needed at the moment in time. From your vantage point, the stranger looked to be in his forties, but in the best way possible. His form was built, the right amount of muscle carrying his frame and his grown out brown locks tucked behind his ears. No one had ever looked more sexy to you. 

Aware of being the center of attention to an attractive stranger, you smoothed your hands down from your hair, seductively over your neck, teasing your glowing skin and finally to your chest. You bit your lip when his hungry stare that soaked your lace underwear focused on your tits, overspilling from your dress and you watched, smug and exhilarated as the unknown man tightened his fist against his tight trouser cladded thighs. 

Through the whole night, the delightful burn of his stare never left you. A brand was marked into your skin; a warning to everyone else that you were spoken for — only for the night at least. 

If you ordered a drink at the bar, the stranger was a couple of seats down from you, greedily lapping up your figure. If you were sitting in the smokers area, catching your breath and cooling down, he was there too, leaning against the brick wall smoking a cigarette with his attention solely focused on you, no matter the amount of women who were not so discreetly throwing themselves over him. 

Even at the end of the night, as you once again danced to the deep bass of the beat among everyone else, he watched you from his own corner, still as enamored with you as the first time your eyes met. 

Adrenaline spiked your veins. It was addicting to be the object of someone’s desires, to be seen. 

You had only spoken through heated looks and loaded glances, but he was unlike any man you had encountered before. Mysterious and cryptic. You were just as lost in him as he was into you and you couldn’t have cared less that he was obviously older than you. It was what you needed. He was what you needed. 

The buzz from the few shots you had taken reached their peak and you decided it was now or never to claim what you so rightfully deserved. 

With a bounce in your step, you strutted in your heels through the crowd of people, never taking your eyes off your prize and him neither. He licked his lips as you closed the distance, stopping just before you bumped into the tip of his shoes. 

“Listen,” you spoke over the music, determined and resolute. “I’m gonna skip past the pleasantries and bullshit.” The allured stranger raised his eyebrow, intrigued. “You want me and I definitely want you. So, do you want to get out of here?” 

Your bravery faltered slightly as you realised in his close proximity how direct you had been. While you were almost certain this stranger was as attracted to you as you were to him, the tiny seed of doubt that a mature man wouldn’t want to hook up with someone as young as you revoked your liquid courage. 

But that worry soon disappeared when he gave you a fierce once over now you were up close. A raging storm of lust and desire clouded his beautiful eyes, wild and desperate to get his hands on you. Your breaths came in quick and heavy as he smirked so sinfully. The bastard knew he held so much power in the palm of his hands when his body towered over yours, the difference in size between you not hard to miss. There you could tell the fun had already begun. 

The rest of the club became a blur as he brought his mouth down to your ear. You felt each slow and steady breath against the curve of your neck and you were sure even in the darkness, he noticed the  goosebumps that littered your skin. “All I need you to know tonight is my name.” His voice was as sexy as you had imagined, a deep, rasped husk that made your legs weak. But it was his next words that almost made you collapse. “Because it’s the only thing you’re gonna be screamin’ for the rest of the night, darlin’.” 

Your mind grew foggy at the next sequence of events. The hustle of getting into a car and fiercely making out in the backseat until you arrived at an upscale hotel. Everything happened so fast. One minute you were waiting impatiently at the reception desk and the next you were stumbling into a lavish hotel room, unable to keep your hands off each other as items of clothing flew across the room in your haste to get naked. 

The two of you bumped into the array of furniture in the hallway, the thought of tearing away from each other's lips unbearable. Bucky, you learned was his name, was an amazing kisser, his tongue gently teased yours as he threaded his fingers through your hair and he kept a firm grip of your cheeks like he was desperate to keep you close. 

“Fuck,” he slurred between kisses. “You’re so— fuckin’— gorgeous.” His eagerness to keep his lips against yours while complimenting you spun you for a loop, unfamiliar to this kind of intensity.  

The clink of dog tags were the culprit to halt your motions while he kept on kissing you, traveling down the slope of your neck and to your shoulders to bite your skin. As he was occupied, you took your chance to admire his physique. For a man his age, he was jacked — a toned stomach with several abs sharp enough to cut and two deliciously slender grooves running underneath his trousers to a bulge big enough for you to let an unhinged moan escape. 

His body was sickening, he truly had no business to look as good as he did for a man his age. But like hell were you going to complain when all the boys at college disappointed you time and time again. The bar was low and this man had already exceeded your expectations, he was only supposed to be an idea fit for your wildest fantasies. Yet, there he was, real and existing. 

Time was of the essence and you wasted none of it as you ripped yourself out of his hold, left in only your underwear, and dropped to your knees without pause to hurriedly remove his belt. 

“Oh, shit.” He gulped. “Baby— baby—you don’t have to do that—“ 

You hushed his assurances and batted away his hands that tried to pull you up without real effort. “No, I don’t have to. But I want to.” Fluttering your eyes, you looked up at him and slyly smirked. “Let me suck your cock. You just worry about having a good time.” With a wink, you unlooped the expensive leather through the buckle and dropped it to the floor, soon after working to unzip his fly and rid him of the offending trousers that stood in your way. 

The material slid down his thick thighs and he was left stood in his underwear, black briefs tented from his hard cock. A frenzied need to soothe the urge to get your mouth around him took the reins when you instantly nuzzled into his crotch.

“Fuck me, you’re a needy little slut aren’t you?” He wrapped your hair into a ponytail around his fist, controlling your movements. Though, there was no reason to, eager as you were. You would have done anything he asked. 

You did do anything he asked. 

You hummed while suckling the tip of his cock over the material of his underwear, “Mhm.” He threw his head back and groaned like a wild beast while you admired the wet patch growing on the fabric before your very eyes. It was unhinged — raw. But your stranger of the night didn’t seem to care, too fucked out as his eyes rolled back from pleasure. 

Unable to control your burst of desire, you suddenly shucked his briefs down. 

Your mouth fell open at the sheer size of him, an audible gasp echoed over the silence of the marble walls. Never had you seen a dick as pretty or big before and the drool that had gathered in your mouth began to leak out the side of your mouth. 

You were aching for him. 

With a cocky smile, the man tapped under your chin twice to direct your head upwards. “Up here, darlin’—I want those pretty eyes on me when you take my cock.” 

Immediately opening your mouth wide and sticking your tongue out for him, he chuckled breathily at the crazed look in your dilated pupils. “Well, aren’t you just the biggest whore I ever did see.” Grabbing his cock and pressing the tip onto your tongue, he began to slide it forward. “Good fuckin’ job I like ‘em that way. Now open up wide so I can fuck your throat, baby—”

“Babe!” 

Jolting out of your memory infused dream with a shriek, you span your head around to Rebecca in the drivers seat of her car. “Oh, there you are!” she hissed, teasingly. “I called for you like ten times. Where the fuck did you go?” 

You swallowed the dryness coating your throat and hastily sat up. A hot sweat had settled over your skin and you immediately grabbed your water bottle from the footwell and chugged it down. 

Once you had cooled down, you glanced back at your friend, cringing at the raised eyebrow that meant you weren’t getting out of an explanation. “I, uh— I’m sorry I didn’t—um—get much sleep last night,” you lamely replied. 

The unimpressed expression on her face told you she didn’t believe you. But you were saved when her face suddenly lit up with glee. “Eek! We’re finally here!” 

Had a three hour drive really gone by that fast? 

Looking out the car window, your eyes widened when you saw an estate, guarded by iron gates around the whole property, surrounded by acres upon acres of land. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, even when Rebecca began animatedly speaking with someone by the toll station. 

Who the fuck was this girl? 

Eventually, she pulled up to the house, passing the stone driveway with a water fountain in the middle and cut the engine off. “Come on, you. My Dad’s expecting us.” 

You were in a daze while you opened your door, stepping out the car and taking in every inch of the property. You would have never guessed your friend, the most down to earth and humble person on campus, had a lavish lifestyle with all the trimmings. It was clear she didn’t feel the need to brag about her privilege and her nonchalant attitude about it only baffled you more.

The doors to the mansion suddenly swung open and what you could only have presumed to be a butler promptly rushed towards the car. “Miss Barnes, how lovely to see you again.” 

Rebecca scoffed and hugged the man without hesitation. “Don’t be silly. You know you don’t call me that.” 

Even with her sweetness, he remained as professional then ever and brushed by her to pick up her bags. “Of course, Miss Barnes. Your father is out at the minute, but he has left you a gift by the entryway table.” 

With a high pitched scream, your friend ran inside without looking back. It was hard not to smile at her carefree ways and trying to shake the deepening apprehensiveness from the moment Rebecca invited you, you rounded to the boot of the car to grab your luggage. 

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am.” The butler immediately stepped forward and swiftly picked up your bags along with Rebecca’s with ease. 

“Oh, no that’s okay, honestly! I can bring them in no problem!” You tried detesting, not used to any kind of special treatment.

But it was no use as he kindly insisted, “There is no need to worry. Please relax and join your friend, I believe there is a gift for you too.” 

Sighing, you yielded and eventually followed in your friend’s steps, twiddling your fingers anxiously while you walked into the foyer of the mansion. 

Carefully crafted marble walls with what you could only guess were decorated with millions of dollars worth of extravagant paintings, lined up neatly up to the grand, spiral staircase where a round oak table sat in front of it. 

You instantly spotted two gift baskets, difficult to miss as they were both filled to the brim with an assortment of treats and bright pink tissue paper. 

Rebecca was already busy appreciating hers, taking care to read the note her father had presumably left her and gushing over the copious amount of sweet treats, new nightwear and a cashmere blanket, like this wasn’t a regular occurrence to her. 

However, it was surprising to see you had also been spoiled; all of your favourites, intricately placed in the hamper. Your eye caught the note addressed with your name on and hesitantly, you reached out for it and unfolded the card — a simple yet polite message inside. 

I can only apologise that I wasn’t here upon your arrival. 

I’ve heard great things about you from my Becs and I sincerely look forward to meeting you when I’m home. 

Please make yourself comfortable and enjoy the contents of your gift basket. 

J.B.B.

“Oh, he’s the best,” Rebecca swooned, hugging the white blanket to her chest. “He said he got called into work for a couple of hours so he should be back tonight. 

You exhaled, flitting your eyes over your new gifts. The information eased your nerves slightly — you were never any good at meeting parents, whether that be of friends or partners. The dynamic of a happy household wasn’t one you had experience with and the idea of ruining first impressions caused an anxiety you didn’t particularly care to revisit often. Especially now that Rebecca had come into your life — a friend you could absolutely see yourself building a strong bond with. 

Realising you had been silent for too long, you spoke up, “Your Dad is very kind.” Your fingers inched forward and ran over the soft material of your very own matching cashmere blanket, it felt like you were touching a cloud. From the corner of your eye, you caught your friend suddenly looking sheepish. “What’s wrong?” you asked, turning towards her. 

“I’m sorry about all of this.” She vaguely gestured her hand up in the air, to which you guessed she meant the sheer amount of money that screamed in your face. “I didn’t warn you and I should have. It's just that—” Rebecca’s eyes darted down and she crossed her arms over her stomach, shrinking in on herself. 

You stepped closer, rubbing your hand over her arm for comfort. “Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me.” 

She took a deep breath before lifting her gaze to you and shrugging. “I didn’t know if your intentions would be good if you knew about the money.” 

“Oh, Becs.” Your heart ached at the obvious trauma from her past. Squeezing her arm, you attempted to uplift the sullen mood with some playful teasing. “I became your friend because I couldn’t get rid of you. Although, now it doesn’t hurt to know your family is loaded.” 

Reluctantly, the smile grew on her face, turning into a bright grin she no longer could hide. “You’re awful.” 

“Tell me about it.” You winked, nudging her hip with your own. “Seriously, you’re a good person and I’m your friend because I want to be. I couldn’t give a fuck if you’re rich.” 

The muscles of her body relaxed and she quickly pulled you into a hug. “Thank you, babe.” 

“It’s nothing, silly.” You squeezed her one last time before breaking away. 

Rebecca sniffled, blinking away the onslaught of tears that were close to falling before cheerfully grabbing her basket. “Come on then, let’s go set up and order some pizza.” 

Picking up your own basket, you followed your friend up to her room.

The few hours spent working on your assignments, eating pizza and listening to music flew by. Spending so much time with Rebecca actually turned out to be fun. You usually spent all your free time by yourself, respiting into a hermit because of your inability to enjoy friendly companionship.  

But it was to your surprise that you found yourself not regretting agreeing to the trip. The thought of being back at your dorm, wasting your night away by sleeping, watching trash tv and succumbing to the vibator in your bedside drawer begging you to relive a night of passion now seemed sad as you glanced at your friend and the corner of your lip curled up. 

That bubble burst quickly when a shout coming from the foyer echoed up to the open bedroom door. “Rebecca, sweetheart—I’m home!” 

Instantly, her eyes widened and she shoved the laptop she was using off her lap at once, squealing with joy before leaping off the bed and running downstairs. “Dad!” 

Your fingers twitched over the keyboard of your own laptop in anticipation, looking towards the door and sighing in resignation. 

Decidingly, you thought it was best to give your friend a moment with her father. Not at all because you wanted to prolong the inevitable as long as possible. 

But as a couple of minutes went by, the tick of the pink clock on the desk getting louder and louder by the second, you figured your absence would go noticed and so you begrudgingly shut the lid of your laptop to slowly begin making your way out of the room. 

As you reached the balcony at the top of the staircase, you looked down just as Rebecca hugged her Dad tightly. An ache panged in your heart.

You weren’t close with your parents; neither of them checked up on you or asked when you’d be coming home to see them. They only contacted you when they felt like spewing their badly-hidden resentment towards you and the hurt you thought you had buried long ago began to make its way front and center. 

You shook your head and cleared your throat. You wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t tarnish your stay with your friend over something so silly — or be scared to meet her parent. So with a deep breath, you glided down the steps. 

Rebecca’s Dad had his back turned to you, which meant you only saw his thick head of hair, tucked neatly behind his ears and the muscles of his back straining against the white dress shirt he wore. 

You were unable to pinpoint the exact reason a tingle started to form in your lower stomach, the sensation extremely familiar by now, but you immediately scolded yourself and pinched the skin of your thigh to snap out of whatever mood had caused such depravity. This was your friend’s father; get it together.  

As you reached the bottom of the steps, your friend’s eyes locked onto yours and her whole face beamed. “Dad,” she gasped excitedly. “I want you to meet my friend.” 

You steeled your features; the warmest smile you could manage with the straightest posture possible. 

Time stood still when Rebecca stepped back to let her Dad turn around. Your emotions were all under control and you finally felt like you could do this. 

But that was until your eyes met and your face dropped. Those blue eyes, those damn blue eyes, you would remember them anywhere. 

Bile began to rise in your throat when he faced you completely. Suddenly, you were thrown back to that forbidden night that all started with the same man across the room by the bar, watching you like you were his last meal. Bucky.

You held back a loud gasp, aware that Rebecca was witnessing the interaction. Though, your blood ran cold when his lips lifted into a grin, one you knew a little too well. 

The palms of your hands were clammy with sweat and your heart hammered inside your chest. You weren’t sure how to play this, the stifling silence had already been stretched out ridiculously. 

Rebecca’s voice broke the quiet with an awkward chuckle. “Sorry Dad, we’re a little stumped. Exams have been kicking our asses lately and the drive over was long.”

Guilt crippled you then. While you could never have known the one night stand who invaded your thoughts daily would turn out to be your best friend's father, it still didn’t change anything — you fucked her Dad.

He finally took his eyes away from you to swing an arm around his daughter and laughed in fondness. “Don’t worry, I understand, Becs—you girls must be exhausted.” He then lifted his gaze back to you. “You must be the one she hasn’t stopped talking about.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. He doesn’t remember you? The lack of expression or recognition instilled a sense of hope within you. 

Maybe he had forgotten about your night together — the low lighting of the club you met him at and the haze of alcohol hindering your senses as he took you to a hotel created a perfection concoction of forgetfulness you rationalised. 

Eventually, deciding to act oblivious and hope for the best, you stammered up the courage to introduce yourself. “M—Mr Barnes. Thank you for letting me stay in your home.”

“Oh none of that, please.” A shiver raced down your spine, memories of begs and whimpers taunting your mind. “I’m James. But call me Bucky, darlin’.” 

It took all the strength you had to trap the moan on the verge of escaping your lips. Yep, you definitely remembered that name. 

Rebecca’s Dad stuck out his hand in front of you. “I’m very happy to meet you.” Your eyes darted between his hand and his face and then to your friend. Steadying your breath, you hesitantly placed your hand into his and felt his fingers tighten against yours. He shook your hand, his thumb gliding over your skin. 

Tightening your lips in anguish, you replied, “V—Very happy to meet you, too.” 

Bucky’s touch lingered against yours until you snatched your hand out of his when Rebecca hopped giddily and clapped her hands. “Oh, this is great! This weeks going to be so fun!”  

You didn’t return the sentiment. This week was going to be your worst nightmare come to life — your biggest mistake being dangled on a string in front of you, only reminding you what a piece of shit you were. 

“Okay, Dad. We’re gonna catch up on a little more work, so I’ll come find you later.” Your friend grabbed your hand that was limped by your side and started to pull you back up the stairs. 

“Hard workers, ain’t you?” he laughed. “If you need anything let me know.” 

“Thanks Dad, will do!” Rebecca shouted back down the stairs. 

When you had reached the first landing balcony, you couldn’t help sneaking one more tiny glance at the one night stand you never thought you would see again. But your heart skipped a beat as you saw him already looking up at you and he slid his hand out of his suit pocket to wave at you before you disappeared. 

You were sitting on Rebecca’s bed, waiting for her return when the inevitable happened. 

An emergency she called it, when she slipped her feet into her shoes and swiftly threw on her hoodie, claiming an issue with her neighbour she absolutely needed to handle. 

You had tried insisting on going with her, an extra pair of hands to help out. But she instantly pushed away your pleas, telling you not to worry and to focus on your work. That was Becca, a true sweetheart. But you wanted to strangle her then, scold her for leaving you in uncharted territory by yourself. 

Nervous and on edge, you couldn’t concentrate on your assignment for the longest time. You consistently made quick glances to the open door of your friend’s bedroom, listened for footsteps upon the landing. Soon enough though, your nerves died down when nothing happened and it allowed you to focus on your laptop, finally becoming fixated on your assignment. 

The only unusual thing that caught you off guard by yourself was the sudden heat of the house. You had built up a sweat in your hoodie and, unable to handle it, you took the fleeced material off in a swift flourish, leaving you in a tank top and shorts. 

Other than that, you powered through, happy to be finally getting somewhere with your work. You weren’t even sure how much time had passed since Rebecca had left and the worry of how long it was taking her to come home slipped your mind. 

Your guard was down while you hummed to the low music, lying on your stomach, back facing the door and typing away as you swung your legs in the air.

“I see you’re working hard.” 

Yelping in fright, you almost fell off the bed, the deep grunt of Bucky’s smooth tone scaring you from the sanctuary of his daughter's room. You whipped your head around to see your friend’s Dad leaned against the doorway dressed in a tight black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, his dog tags rested against his chest.  

The sight was a difficult one to swallow. 

It was instinct to turn around so you were facing him as you raced to shuffle up Rebecca’s bed — a danger, your mind cautioned, to have your back turned to a wolf. 

He held his hands out in front of him as he walked towards you, as though taming a frightened lamb. “Hey there, it’s only me. No need to be scared.” 

“S—Sorry. I was a little lost in my assignment.” You apologised as you scrambled to gather all of your supplies together, desperate to gain some space from Bucky. “I think I’m done for the night, though. So I’ll just go downstairs and wait for Becca—“ 

“Hold up.” Bucky sat on his daughter's bed, leaving little to no proximity between you to effectively trap you in. “There’s no rush now, is there?” 

Exhaling shakily, you stuttered, “N—No— um, not at all, Mr Barnes—“

“Bucky,” he corrected gently. 

“Yes, B—Bucky.” You struggled to test his name on your tongue, not having spoken it since your night together. “I’m so sorry.” 

Rebecca’s dad just laughed, amused at your rambling. 

A tension, seemingly only one-way, swallowed you whole, threatening to drown you. It was impossible to hold direct eye contact with his ocean blues eyes, ones that ran vivid through your mind in your nights alone filled with heated memories and your biggest — now new favourite — vibrator.

His voice snapped you out of lust filled haze. “Rebecca shouldn’t be too long. Poor old neighbour lost his wife a couple of years back and Becs—the angel she is—goes over to help him when he needs it.” 

You could see it. She was the sort to not think twice about helping anyone in need and the thought eased your mind. “Well,” you smiled, hoping you didn't look as awkward as you felt. “That’s very kind of her.” 

“That’s my Becs,” Mr Barnes proudly grinned. 

The room grew silent once again. Picking your fingernails, you fought to calm the cold, harsh anxiety eating away at you. It still seemed as though Bucky couldn’t remember you, but a nagging feeling in your gut wouldn’t let that settle your nerves. 

“I just thought I’d come check on you anyway, sweetheart. Y'know, make sure you’ve settled in nicely for the week.” He smiled while placing his palm on the bed in the small space between you, leaning his weight against it as he got closer. 

“Y—Yeah.” You cleared your throat before continuing, keeping your answers short. “Mhm, I’m all good, thank you.” You smiled tightly, hoping Bucky would take the hint to leave, but alas your luck was short. 

“What you been workin’ on then, darlin’?” He nodded to your laptop resting on your legs. 

“Oh, not much.” You downplayed. “Just a written piece, nothing major— no wait!—” Bucky cut you off as he abruptly swiped your laptop from your lap, the cold ring on his pinky finger brushing against the bare skin of your thigh. Before you could even think of hastily clambering for it back, he already had your laptop open and sitting on his thick thighs as he began reading. 

“A psychology major, huh?” Bucky smirked, eyes scattering across the screen to take your assignment in. “Impressive. You’re a very clever girl.” 

Heat quickly rose up your neck, warming your cheeks as you were rendered speechless. A heavy ache between your legs left you squeezing your thighs together because of his praise — his words sent you straight back to the night against the hotel’s glassed windows he had brutally fucked you against while worshipping how much of a good girl you were for taking all of him. 

Quickly, you shook the intense thought from your mind, scolding yourself for letting it happen an umpteenth time. “Really, it’s nothing,” you said.

Bucky stopped reading your work and looked at you intensely, enough to make you squirm. “You really shouldn’t put yourself down like that.” Placing your laptop on the floor, he smoothly shuffled closer to you. You couldn’t help but stare at the hand he moved into your vicinity. His touch as he laid it on the naked skin of your thigh sent a thrill through your whole body. “Hasn’t anyone ever praised you before, huh?” 

His intricate voice, delicate and gentle soothed you and excited you both in equal measure. The previous alarm bells blaring in your head were non-existent when he squeezed the meat of your thigh so tenderly with his large hands. “I— um— I don’t—”

“Nobody told you how proud they are of you?” 

Your eyes glossed over as the shield you had built for yourself started to dismantle. Bucky was right. You were lonely and tired and you worked so hard for little reward. Your parents didn’t tell you they were proud of you, nobody ever told you how good you had been. 

Bucky’s hand moved up to cup your cheek, his thumb delicately rubbing over your lip. You melted into his touch too quickly. “Shh, it’s alright, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”  

You willingly fell into a dangerous trap he had set out as your eyes fluttered closed. Your friend’s Dad’s caress was so familiar, even after so long — his scent intoxicating and his voice a melody to the scrambled mess in your head. 

It didn’t occur to you then, the issue with Bucky inching more forward, almost until his chest was plastered to yours. The thought of his strange comfortability with his daughter’s friend wasn’t worthy of space in your head. 

For once you weren’t thinking of Rebecca.

Until the slam of the front door ricocheted up the stairs and into her bedroom. “I’m home, Dad!”

Your eyes shot open and you gave yourself a quick second to get lost in Bucky’s gaze before you leaped up in panic. 

You were half expecting him to also worry, to quickly dart out of the room. But instead he carelessly stood up from the bed along with you and combed his hair back with his fingers. 

“Dad! Where are you?” 

Pure terror. The fear of being caught in a compromising position with Bucky by your friend was overwhelming as your hands shook. Rebecca’s footsteps began to sound over the stairs and you closed your eyes, waiting for chaos. 

It was only a couple of seconds after your stomach jumped in frightful anticipation when you felt her presence join you. “Babe, have you— What the fuck are you doing?” 

Your stomach lurched. Slowly squinting an eye open, you saw your friend standing in the doorway looking at you in confusion. You steadily tracked your sight across the room, expecting to see Bucky. To your surprise, he wasn’t there anymore. 

You opened your eyes fully, the fear easing away some though your nerves were still alight with edginess. “I don’t— I don’t know.” 

“Um, okay?” Becca said wearily. “Anyway, have you seen my Dad, I wanted to talk to him before we head to bed.” 

This was a chance, you inwardly thought. To tell your best friend about everything while your friendship could still be repaired. 

But the probability of disclosing your secret and potentially ruining Rebecca’s life won out. “No. I haven’t seen him.” The lie tasted sour on your tongue and shame clawed its way back to the surface. 

Your friend smiled brightly and shrugged. “No problem, I’ll go find him. I’ll be back to work on assignments in a minute.” She exited her room in search of her Dad. 

You crumpled to the bed and hung your head in your hands, exhaling deeply. You’re a shitty person, the voice in your head supplied unhelpfully. 

After a while, Rebecca had returned to her room and for the rest of the evening, you both worked on your respective assignments; her chattering away happily while you stared at the screen of your laptop blankly, adding nothing to the open document until the two of you decided to call it a night.

Unexpectedly though, instead of getting ready for bed together, your friend showed you to a guest room. 

“Becca,” you laughed. “I thought I’d be staying in your room for the night. You know—with you?” 

“Well, I told my Dad you liked your own space and he set up one of the guest rooms for you. It's no biggie.” She shrugged. 

Right. Because of course you wouldn’t be staying with her when there were an endless amount of spare bedrooms on the first floor alone. 

You cursed yourself in that moment, reliving your protests of spending the midterm break alone because of your need for space. 

“Are you sure?” You tried again, the vulnerability of being by yourself without the buffer of Rebecca taunting you. “We could have a sleepover! Watch movies and stay up late!”

But she just raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Girl, I know you are dying for a minute to yourself—to relax and decompress.” Holding your hand, she softly laughed. “I practically begged you to come here and you agreed. You’ve been more kind to me in the minute we met than most of my old friends over the span of the years I knew them. So please, the least I could do is give you a break during the nights.” 

The guilt ate you alive; her selflessness and naturally good heart steadily chipping away at your conscience. Why the hell did she have to be so nice? 

Putting on your best smile, you tried to rid of the nasty voice spitting venom inside your head. You slept with her fucking Dad, you whore — you don’t deserve this. Outwardly, you said, “I don’t deserve this, Becs. It's too much.” A somewhat admittance of the truth; the full story you would take to the grave, if only to keep your friendship intact.

“Oh, hush. Of course you do.” She pushed you away playfully into your new room. “Now go freshen up and get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Clenching your hands in unexplained nerves, you wished her goodnight while she began to walk down the hall to her own room. “See you tomorrow, Becs.” The door closed with a click and you dropped your forehead against the wood with a loud thud. 

You could do this, you reasoned with yourself. It was only for a couple of days, and as long as you stayed close to Rebecca and was not left alone with her father, you could ignore your inner thoughts — the vile, disgusting voice that simultaneously begged you to to crawl on all fours to him like a desperate bitch and be ashamed of your sins.

It wasn’t difficult to fall asleep. Exhaustion from the events of a long day and a shower with the most luxurious products you had ever used assisted you with that and you whispered an internal gratitude to the fluffy pillows you laid your head on for helping you escape reality before you closed your eyes. 

However, you were awoken from your deep slumber when the rattle of your bedroom door knob interrupted your dreamless sleep. You had to fight the heaviness of your body as you sat up, rubbing your eyes with a groan before you tried squinting through the darkness to no avail. 

The sudden thought of your friend coming to annoy you after all surprisingly made you crack a smile. “Becs?” you sleepily called out. 

The latch of the door clicked as it steadily creeped open and you rolled your eyes at your friend’s antics. “If you’re trying to scare me then ha ha—very funny, dork.” 

Your sight began to adjust, outlines and shadows soon becoming more clear but still a struggle to make out in the late hour.  

Though there was no response from your friend. Silence shrouded over the room with only your small breaths to be heard. 

You stared at the doorway expectedly, waiting for a response you wouldn’t get. “Becca?” you called out warily once more.

But that time, as the door clicked shut with a deafening loudness, a deep voice — one that definitely did not belong to your friend — answered. “Y’know, you look just as pretty as you did the night we met.” 

Cold dread had every muscle of your body locking up. It became clear then that it wasn’t Rebecca that had entered your room. More so a tall figure, clad in only his underwear and his dog tags.

“M—Mr Barnes?” your lips quivered with panic. “What— What are you doing?” 

Every clink of the metal around his neck haunted you with each step he made closer. You scrambled up towards the headboard, plastering yourself against the wood. 

Pointless when he sat beside you on the bed, bending his knee to lean one leg against your thigh. The feel of his bare skin against yours burned. 

“No need to be afraid, sweetheart,” Bucky chuckled. “You know me, don’t you?” 

You gulped. Sudden dizziness blurred his face to your eyes and the deprivation of your sight made his touch all the more electrifying when he swept your hair to the side and kissed your shoulder. 

A shudder ran down your spine, the strap of your silk nightgown falling down your arm and stripping you of your only defense left against him. 

“Mr Barnes,” you tried again, more pleadingly. 

“What have I said about calling me that, hm? You know my name well enough by now, pretty girl. You’ve screamed it enough.” His tormenting laugh vibrated through you while he still peppered feather light kisses across your skin. 

You begged your body to move, for your hands to push him away and your voice to shout for Rebecca. Alas, you kept to your place, still as stone. 

“You can’t— you can’t be here,” you whispered shakily. 

Bucky smirked. “Oh really? Is this not my house, sweetheart?” Your nipples pebbled against the silk material covering them as his breath cascaded goosebumps over your skin in its trail. “Been tryin’ so hard to restrain myself since I saw you again this mornin’. But I can’t fuckin’ hold back anymore.” 

“You remember me,” you managed to choke out.

Bucky hummed, laving his tongue over the sweat building on your neck. “Like I could ever forget a girl like you.” 

The knot in your stomach tightened, each press of his lips over your body immobilising you further. Bucky knew who you were, from the moment your eyes connected in the foyer. The reality set in then — deep and unsettling and delicious, all at once. 

“I had to act like I didn’t know you, baby. Couldn’t have Rebecca finding out her only friend knows the taste of her Dad’s cock now, could I?” 

You felt sick. Your mind raged in war between a guilty conscience and your own pleasure. To give in would be evil, so horrendously sick and twisted.

A single tear dropped from your watery eyes and slowly rolled down your cheek, the sudden saltiness hitting Bucky’s tongue and making him groan. “Fuck, don’t tease me already, baby.” 

“She’s my friend,” you whimpered. “I can’t do this to her.” 

Bucky looked up, a soft expression on his face. “Oh, darlin’. I love her too, really.” His lip curled up then, a wolfish gleam in his eye. “But I can’t go another minute without touchin’ you.” 

Placing his forehead against yours, his hand traveled up from your thigh, all the way over your stomach until he reached your tits. You squeezed your eyes tightly closed when his forefinger and thumb pinched your nipple through the silk. “Doesn’t this feel good, hm? Doesn’t this feel right?”

Against your will, you released a high pitched keen. “Bucky.”

His chest rumbled in delight, a deep purr in your ear. However, your mind still bartered with itself, unrelenting in its inability to give in. “But what if Becca—?” 

“She doesn’t have to know a damn thing, baby.” Bucky turned his head and bit over the pulse of your neck. “It’ll be our dirty little secret.” 

Your head was filled with clouds, a fog smothering over any rational thought. Especially with the way Bucky began to sneakily slip the other strap of your nightgown down. He was mesmerising in his actions, his fragile touches that made you feel special. 

You so desperately wanted to feel special. 

Just like he made you feel back in the summer. 

The evil voice in your mind hissed at you — dirty, disgusting, whore. The hopeful one became louder — lonely, unloved, tired. 

You were so fucking tired. 

The fight in you left. You were a goner, a sacrificial lamb while you tilted your head back to reveal more of you. The walls you so carefully crafted came crumbling down pathetically. 

Bucky didn’t waste any time taking advantage of that. “There’s my good girl. Let it happen, baby.” 

The moon shone through the window, becoming the only source of light in the darkness and its glow blanketed over the same features as the strobe lights in the club back in summer. 

Fate hadn’t been on your side from the moment it cruelly introduced Becca into your life when it had already manifested your demise with her Dad. So who were you to try and change it?

Letting your body take control over your mind, you turned your head, grabbed Bucky by the back of his neck and crashed your lips to his — finally giving into temptation. His answering moan of shock and arousal made you more daring and you snuck your tongue into his mouth too. 

Bucky ripped away, a string of saliva connected between your lips. “You still wear the same fuckin’ cherry chapstick,” he groaned, before squeezing your breast tightly. “Fuck—go lay your head at the end of the bed for me, sweetheart. Want that shit around my cock.” 

With urgency, you rushed over to the edge of the mattress, lying on your back and making sure your head hung over the bed. Your view was upside down, warped while you watched Bucky stroll towards you with bated breath. 

He stood behind you, all menacing and tall — you had never felt smaller in your life, though you liked the feeling with him. 

The veins on Bucky’s forearm bulged from his skin as he brought his hand to your throat. Lightly, he caressed his thumb over the junction of your neck. “Do you remember how eagerly you sucked my dick last time?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the bob of it transcending under his large hand. “I— I do.” 

He smirked down at you. “You gonna make me proud again, baby?” 

Your eyes glazed over with neediness. “Please—Want to make you proud of me.” 

His bright white teeth gleamed with his predatory smile. “Stick out your tongue for me, darlin’.” 

Doing as he asked, you opened your mouth and let your tongue hang out, uncaring to how easily you obeyed his commands. 

“Good job, sweetheart.” Bucky brought his hands up to his underwear and with a swift pull, his black briefs fell to the ground. 

You preened like a cat at the sight of his cock bobbing into your view. The light casting in from the moon glistened over the underside of his dick, the purple head pulsing harshly. 

Bucky pumped his cock slowly twice, a premature pearl of cum gathering at the head. “You ready for me, baby?” 

Nodding your head hungrily up at him, you whined, “Uh-huh.”

Bucky positioned himself closer to you, your head hung between his spread legs. You waited in anticipation for him to inch forward and slide his length down your throat, but instead he tapped the head of his cock against your wet tongue. 

The resounding slap caused you to rub your thighs together in agony, the feel of his heavy weight divine. 

“Aw, babygirl,” Bucky teased. “You missed me that much you can’t help those tingles already, huh?” He tapped his length against you again and his eyes fluttered. “There’s more where that came from.” 

The desperation to wrap your lips around his cock was overbearing and so you sealed your mouth around him, suckling the tip with a refound hunger. 

“Holy fuck.” Bucky’s legs trembled at the shock of your sudden confidence. “Oh, just like that, sweetheart.” 

You swiped your tongue around the bulbous head of his dick, moaning rabidly at his salty taste. Bucky’s natural musk was addictive and you tried to shuffle your body closer to take more of his length, but he quickly grabbed your hips to stop you. “Woah—slow down there. Daddy’s the one runnin’ the show tonight, not you.” 

You let go of his cock with a pop. “Please, Daddy.” Your pleas were breathless as you panted for air. “Want all of you—please!” 

Leaning over until his lips brushed yours, Bucky kissed you deeply before murmuring, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, I’ll make sure you take all of me.” 

He stood back up promptly, giving you whiplash in your current state. “Now open that slutty little mouth. Wide.” 

Hardly giving you time to do as he asked, Bucky shoved his entire length down your throat. Your eyes widened as you gagged around him. 

“Shh, baby. You’re okay, relax.” Opposite to his brutal force, he brushed softly over your chin. “You can handle me. You’ve done it before, right?” 

Breathing through your nose calmly was a challenge with his thick cock limiting your intake of oxygen. But you wanted so badly to fulfill Bucky’s wishes. So closing your eyes and willing yourself not to panic, you focused your breaths. 

“There we go.” The pride in his tone was exhilarating. “Knew you could do it, darlin’.”

Bucky kept still for a few more seconds, allowing you to get used to the intrusion of the new position before he began to ease his cock out of your throat and gently push back in. “Yeah, you remember my cock don’t you, sweetheart? Your tight little throat feels so fuckin’ good.” 

Your hands came up to grip the back of his firm thighs to ground yourself. You felt every inch of him glide down until his tip reached your windpipe and you coughed violently, sputtering around him.

“That’s right, baby. Choke on me.” Bucky upped the speed of his pace then and your nails dug deep into his flesh. 

While his actions turned harsh and forceful, your pleasure grew and with your squirming, the skirt of your nightgown began to ride up your body without you realising. 

Bucky did though, almost immediately. You couldn’t see how his eyes snapped towards the bare skin of your thighs and lower stomach and to his pleasant surprise, you weren't wearing any panties. 

The sound of his laughter while his hips continued to pump into you made your nerves spike. 

“My sweet girl,” he cooed short windedly. “You must’ve known I was coming, huh? Not wearing anything under that cute little outfit.”

You squealed, unable to say anything while sucking his cock, though the vibrations of your moans made Bucky’s thrusts falter. 

“Fuck—shit, baby. I almost forgot how good you are at that,” he laughed. His hands traveled tantalising over your stomach until he reached the bottom of your nightgown. “Let Daddy see what you’ve been hidin’ from me.” 

The silk material unpeeled from your skin as Bucky lifted it over your breasts. Your full body was on display for him and you fidgeted bashfully under his scrutiny. Your sight was compromised, your movements were limited and your thoughts were scrambled. 

“Oh, darlin’. You’re a doll, ain’t you?” Bucky’s rough and calloused hands smoothed over your bare skin. He palmed your breasts roughly, just once before inching down to your lower stomach. “Now, you gonna show me what I really wanna see?” 

It didn’t take you a second to spread your legs for him, the cold air hitting your soaked cunt. 

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Open those gorgeous thighs for me, I wanna see how wet my baby girl is.” 

Bucky leaned over your body, pushing his cock even further down your throat. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, but your body soon jolted at the feel of his finger sliding through your folds. 

You screamed around his dick and tapped his thighs for a breather, which he so graciously granted. As soon as he tilted his hips to let his cock fall out of your mouth, you gasped loudly. “Oh my god— Bucky, I can’t. I can’t I can’t, please—” 

Your hoarse voice was cut off when Bucky wrapped his free hand around your throat. “Shut the fuck up and take it.” 

His cock laid against your cheek while he looked into your eyes. He forewent easing you into it and instead forced two of his fingers into your cunt. You were about to cry out until he shoved his cock down your throat again with a sigh. “Guess Daddy’s gonna have to keep you quiet—such a noisy girl.” 

The clink of his dog tags with each thrust mixed with your gurgles around his cock, a mixture of your spit and precum bubbling around your mouth and running messily down your chin. The stretch of his fingers unprepared was painful and yet it blended perfectly into pleasure. “Mmph!” 

“Yeah? You like that, sweetheart?” Bucky choked when he thrusted into your mouth at a particular angle. Taking advantage of his legs twitching erratically, you managed to release his dick and reach further back to his balls. 

Wasting no time, you sucked them into your mouth while his cock slapped against your cheeks, smothering precum all over your face. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, keeping the steady rhythm of his fingers pumping into your pussy. “You filthy fuckin’ whore—you just want all a’me don’t ya?” 

You hummed while playing with balls, using your tongue to tease over his perineum. Bucky was losing his composure fast and the thrill of it made the knot in your stomach tighter. 

But not one to be outdone, he ripped his fingers out of your cunt and slapped your clit, hard. You let go with a pop and squealed his name. “Bucky!” 

You tried closing your legs, the sensation too overwhelming. Though it was useless with his strength as he held your thighs apart to carry on bringing his hand down firmly on your cunt. “I thought you wanted to play dirty, darlin’,” he growled. “Daddy’s just having some fun.” 

Your body jolted with each slap delivered. You took it, even when the pain became too much and you thought you would pass out, until Bucky decided to give you respite. He left your pussy sore and aching as he lifted up away from you. A whine tore from your throat. 

“That's what happens when you don’t do as I say.” You were manhandled up and into Bucky’s arms as he sat down against the headboard. He moved you around without a hint of struggle and placed you on his lap, facing away from him. “Good girls don’t disobey Daddy, do they?” 

“No,” sighed. His hard, thick length stood firm against your ass, his dog tags soothingly cold against your warm back and you whimpered pleadingly while grinding back into him. “Want it in me.” 

Bucky’s laughter vibrated through you. “Yeah, baby? Wanna bounce on Daddy’s cock?” 

“Yes! Please!” you cried. 

Gliding his hands around to your front, he pinched each nipple. “Well, I’m not stoppin’ you. Go ahead.” 

You inhaled deeply, gathering all your strength to lift up on your shaky legs. Using Bucky’s thighs to hold yourself, you tilted your hips up until your heat skimmed over the head of his cock. “O—Oh, oh shit,” you stuttered at the sensation. 

Bucky’s head thumped back against the headboard. “God—I’ve fuckin’ missed that cunt.” 

His enjoyment allowed you the courage to balance on one hand while your other reached down to grip his thick length. A strangled noise rose from Bucky’s throat, but you ignored it and swept his tip through your folds. 

“Look who’s gotten brave, huh?” Bucky laughed breathlessly while he played with your tits. “Not thinkin’ about poor Becs now are you, baby?” 

Before the harsh retort could dig deep and make a home in your conscience, you shook your head and let his cock catch on your clenching hole. “Wanna be filled again.” 

“Then do somethin’ about it, darlin’.” Bucky rested his chin on your shoulder and you both looked down to where your sex rested on his length. Your stomach sucked in with your uneasy breaths and after internally counting down, you dropped your hips. 

“Fuck!” Bucky’s hands gripped your breasts tightly, something to help him through how good the slick glide felt. You did the same, latching on to his meaty thighs. “Shit.”

Your chests rose and fell in tandem, but the sensation of feeling so full made you tighten around his cock. “I need to move, Daddy.” 

His mouth moved over your neck as he spoke, “Go on, babygirl. Milk Daddy’s cock.” 

With his approval, you began to angle your hips up, letting his length slide out of you until the very head rested snug in your hole and then sank down again steadily. Your breath hitched while your head fell back onto his shoulder.  

“Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck—just like that. Keep going for me.” Bucky’s hands smoothed down to your hips and gripped them, helping you move over his cock. 

“You’re so b—big,” you whispered. “Forgot how big you are.” 

“Oh, I know. But you’re doing so good for me, aren’t you?” he cooed. 

“Mhm,” your head bobbed lazily up and down with your motions. “I’m your good girl, right?” 

Bucky grunted and made you bounce faster. “The best, baby. Such a good girl for me.” 

His dick throbbed angrily inside you, its length scraping your walls and stretching you with its girth. The clapping of your thrusts grew louder, more depraved as you lost control from the divine pleasure. Had you been thinking more clearly, you would have been careful about your volume, but all your inhibitions went out the window long ago. 

“Need more,” you slurred. “Wanna cum, but need more Daddy.” 

“Shh—I know what you need, sweetheart.” Bucky slithered his hand down your stomach and to your heat. With your legs spread wide over his, it gave him ample opportunity to snake his fingers over your engorged clit and begin circling them.  

You squeaked, instantly snapping your legs closed around his hand. “Bucky, wait!—”

But he forced your legs open and slapped your clit, making you jump with a shout. “Don’t you fuckin’ tell me to wait. You asked me for more so you’re getting more, you slut. What happened to wantin’ to make me proud, hm?” 

You sobbed as a tear tracked down your cheek. “I— I do!” 

“So then you’ll take it—won’t you?” Bucky growled against your ear. 

Sniffling, you nodded, panting while bouncing on his cock. “Yes.” 

“Yes, what?” 

You hiccuped. “Yes, D—Daddy.” 

Bucky hummed in approval and began thrusting up to meet your stride. “That’s more like it.” 

You took what he gave you while he fucked up into your pussy. The strain of your muscles was almost unbearable, but you persevered through the pain — to be the center of his attention, to be so utterly wanted felt too compelling to give up. 

His thrusts were harsh, rough enough to have your toes curling and his balls to smack against your skin. All those sensations paired with his ruthless circles on your clit blended to build your impending orgasm. “I’m so close,” you gasped. 

“Me too, babygirl.” Bucky grunted, biting into his plump bottom lip. “Gonna empty my load inside a’you.” 

You preened, the walls of your pussy clenching around his length. “Please.” 

Bucky’s hips worked overtime, a ferocious beast taking over in its haze. He brought his free hand up to your cheeks and squished them together. “Who’s Daddy’s little cumslut, huh?” 

“Me,” you cried. “I’m Daddy’s cumslut.” 

“Fuck yeah you are,” he snarled. “And now that I’ve got you back you’re not fuckin’ goin’ anywhere.” 

You were too dizzy to comprehend the weight behind his words, instead you slammed your hips up and down in time with Bucky’s movements, chasing the tightening in your lower stomach. 

“You ready for me, darlin’?” he asked. 

You swallowed the dryness in your throat. “Uh-huh.”

“Good. Now hold on.” Without waiting for you to reply, he grabbed under your thighs and lifted you. You were held up solely by his arms as he powerfully began to fuck you. 

You became mute, mouth hung open on a continuous silent scream. The feeling was like no other; Bucky’s pure strength and huge length tore you apart, physically and mentally. 

“Gonna,” thrust, “fill,” thrust, “this,” thrust, “gorgeous fuckin’ pussy.” 

Your tongue lolled out of your mouth like a dog, drool dripping down your chin while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You were on the verge of cumming. “Close.” You had been reduced to one syllable words. 

“I know, baby. I fuckin’ know—Can feel you,” Bucky gasped. “Let go for me, darlin’.” It was only when the angle of his hips changed and the head of his cock repeatedly nudged against your cervix that the balance of your orgasm tipped over. 

“Hnng—Fuck!” You walls trapped Bucky’s dick in a tight chokehold as your thighs shook in a spasm. He continued to grind up into you, releasing his warm load into your pussy. 

“Bucky!” you keened while your walls fluttered around his length. The rush was unlike any you had experienced before and an errant thought that any consequence was worth it to cum like that again swirled through your mind. “Made me— made me cum so hard,” you slurred.

Your high began to simmer down and you felt like you could regain control over your mind until Bucky’s hand came down onto your clit again. “One more,” he breathed into your ear. “Gimme one fuckin’ more.” 

Your eyes shot open and you shook your head, rapidly. “C—Can’t,” you managed to croak. “Too much.” 

You reached down to try and pry his hand away from you, but he was too strong. “I said I want one more.” Bucky held your arms to your chest then, beginning to rub your clit in fast circles. 

An unusual pressure built up quickly and you panicked. “Bucky—something’s wrong.” 

But he sucked over your neck, easing your worries. “You’re okay. It's okay, baby. Just let it happen, remember?” 

You writhed in his hold, moaning salaciously. “I’m— I’m g—gonna cum again.” The feel of his cock still filling you, his cum seeping out of your whole which each dirty grind he made, the sensation of his tongue against your neck and his tireless fingers was all too much. 

“Cum for Daddy then, darlin’.” A couple of circulations later and you screamed out in unimaginable pleasure. Your stomach swooped and the next you knew, a strong pressure forced Bucky’s cock out of your cunt. A rush of liquid sprayed out of you and covered the entirety of the bedsheets. 

“There we are,” he grinned wickedly. “Exactly what I wanted.” 

It felt like it went on forever. Bucky didn’t let up on his insistent rubbing. But as soon as the last juices squirted out of you, you deflated into his chest, breaths heaving with utter exhaustion. You were too tired to keep your eyes open, body boneless and overexerted. Your body jumped with aftershocks, tiny zings of electricity igniting your nerves. 

Bucky finally slowed his fingers down to a stop on your clit. Your back rose and fell with his pants, each puff of his exhales hitting your sensitive skin and making you shiver. 

“Holy fuck,” he laughed deliriously. “That was—fuck.” 

Internally agreeing, you hummed, incapable of formulating words. Bucky’s arms wrapped around you while he placed a kiss to the back of your head and you enjoyed being surrounded with his warmth and comfort. “You were perfect, babygirl,” he mumbled. “Did so fuckin’ good for me. Made Daddy so proud.” 

A wide smile curled onto your face as your eyes remained closed. You were falling out of consciousness, giving in to sleep fast. 

“Let’s get you comfy.” You didn’t stir when Bucky began to lift up, or when he rearranged your form so he could carry your limp body in his arms. 

Your body bounced with each powerful step he made. Vaguely hearing the room door open, a cold blast of air hit your heated skin and you shivered, snuggling closer into Bucky’s chest. 

Your head swam with fuzziness. You couldn’t bear to open your eyes with their heaviness. But you felt as you were delicately placed onto a large, comfortable bed, stacked with pillows and fitted with dry sheets, along with Bucky’s delicious scent that tickled your senses. 

A soft kiss was pressed onto your cheek, a firm hand curling around your waist and just before you could succumb to sleep, you heard his last words. “You get some rest now, sweetheart. We’ve still got a whole week ahead of us.” 

You were sure the mortification would hit you in the morning. Pure regret sinking deeply into your skin and making you feel sick to the core. 

But you also knew now that any chance of quitting your best friend's dad had been lost. Because Bucky was a guilty pleasure, a rush you couldn’t bear to give up — no matter the consequences and no matter who it would inevitably hurt. 

[wlntrsldler]

Hi!! For ur song challenge could you write cinnamon girl with Jamie Tartt 🤍

cinnamon girl | jamie tartt

based on the song cinnamon girl by lana del rey

description: your ex did a number on you. now you're letting the ghosts of your past control your relationship with jamie.

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (she/her)

warnings: language-- it's ted lasso, what did you expect?; sad!jamie, insecurities, miscommunication-ish, emotionally abusive ex

word count: 4.2K

ted lasso requests are open | main masterlist

In your last relationship, your ex constantly made you feel replaceable. At first, it started out as snide remarks from his friends that he laughed at, never once defending you or your relationship. 

“Oh, Y/N, be careful with that one, nobody can tie him down.” 

“He’s slippery, girl. Keep an eye on him.” 

“You’re his girlfriend? Wow, props to ya. I couldn’t ever commit to someone like him.” 

You tried to brush it off, ignoring the sting of his laugh after each comment. He didn’t even deny it. And the worst part? He would make comments comparing you to his exes even without the presence of his friends. You knew how he was. When you first met him, it wasn’t lost on you how he flirted with everyone and everything that would let him. You knew he had history, which you’d later on find out was not history, but more of an ongoing thing, with the people in his inner circle. 

You felt stupid for staying in that relationship for that long. You knew what he was doing and what he was saying wasn’t okay, but you had been stuck in the cycle for so long that you were convinced that nobody else would put up with you the way he does. That was until you accepted a job as a Business Relations Assistant at AFC Richmond. 

It was weird at first to be surrounded by strangers who cared more about your well-being than your partner of a year and a half did. Since Higgins introduced you to the crew, you received “How ya doing, Y/N?” in passing from Sam, hugs as a form of good morning from Dani, and the occasional grunt– complimentary, not derogatory– from Coach Kent. It was simple, little things, but these moments of care and acknowledgment came without an expectation of something in return. They simply wanted to make you feel welcome.

Your love life before dating Jamie was a mystery to the team, Jamie included. They didn’t even know that you were dating someone for so long until Keeley came into the locker room to tell the boys to be extra kind to you since you were going through a breakup. Shaking off their initial shock, the team agreed to shower you with love when they saw you after Isaac gave them an aggressive in tone, yet filled with flowery words about how you were a great addition to the team, pep talk. 

By this point, you and Jamie had built a solid rapport, somewhere between acquaintances and friends. You were courteous when you’d run into each other at Nelson Road, even walking side by side until your paths diverged, often talking about the lovely, or horrific, weather you were having. During bus rides to games, he would sit on the window seat beside Sam, in front of you, and would always ask you to be the tie-breaker for one of his many ridiculous polls. You’d always end up siding with him, not because you agreed, but because Jamie grins up at you like he just won the lottery. Even though you didn’t agree that burgers were better than pizza, you’d say they were just to be on the receiving end of one of Jamie Tartt’s award-winning smiles again. 

It took you a while to open up to people again. Your life revolved around your partner and that meant that many of the friendships you had faded in the background while you were with him. But after the breakup, Keeley and Rebecca played a huge role in helping you step out of your comfort zone. They listened to you talk about your relationship as often as you wanted until you were out of words and out of cares. These talks would happen over a glass (or ten) of wine in Keeley’s living room with some sappy romantic comedy playing on mute in the background. For the most part, you had forgotten about your ex. Soon enough, you were saying yes to invites from Isaac or the coaches for team outings.

That’s how you found yourself kissing Jamie Tartt on your front porch after a night at Ola’s. 

When you pulled away, a goofy smile plastered on your face, you saw Jamie’s flushed cheeks that he tried to hide by pretending to cough into his elbow. You shoved his shoulder playfully, unsure if this was just a cruel dream that you’d have to wake up from soon or if this was real life. 

Jamie, who seemed to be thinking the same thing, realized that this was real life when your hand met his shoulder. Feeling more confident, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you closer once more. He whispered against your lips, “Been wantin’ to do that for a while.” 

“Yeah?” You asked in shock. You would’ve never guessed that Jamie liked you in that way. “I never noticed.”

“Sam was right,” he chuckled, shaking his head that he was bringing up his teammates while he was inches away from a pretty girl’s face, but he knew he had to tell you this so you knew how serious he was about you. You weren’t just a one-night stand and this wasn't an "I had too many drinks tonight," mistake. “I’ve been flirting with you for ages. Sam said that you were oblivious to it but for a while, I really thought you just didn’t fancy me back. I’m really glad that I was wrong.” 

“I had no idea you liked me.” 

“Are you joking?” he scoffed, grinning widely. It was the same smile he shared with you on many bus rides. “Why do you think I always ask those stupid questions on the bus? I couldn’t give two shits about whether or not the team preferred Chinese or Italian food, or if they put both socks on first and then their shoes, or one sock and one shoe at a time. I only made those up so I had an excuse to talk to ya. Have a whole notes app full of questions and everything.” 

You threw your head back laughing, imagining Jamie deleting questions that he already asked you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, “You could’ve just talked to me, you know.” 

“Yeah, but you make me nervous,” he blushed, the tips of his ears turning bright pink. “You’re really pretty and proper fit. Plus, you never call me stupid even when my questions are fucking dumb. You’re always so nice to me and you’re loads of fun.” 

You cocked an eyebrow, trying to make sense of the situation. Jamie Tartt was nervous to talk to you? “Jamie, you do realize you’re a world-class footballer, right? Like rich and famous and can get anyone you want?” 

“That don’t matter to me,” he said, shrugging. “Want you, that’s all.” 

It was a strange feeling to hear that from him. You haven’t been wanted in a long time, at least not like this, not in the way that Jamie was looking at you like you are somehow the most incredible thing he’d ever have the privilege of getting to see. He looked at you like he was thanking whatever deities were responsible for reincarnation for allowing him to experience you in this lifetime. If the next fifty lifetimes were filled with nothing but suffering for him then so be it, as long as he had you in this one. You haven’t been wanted this purely before– wanted for who you are and not for what you can offer, not for the potential of what you could be. 

You kissed him again. 

Six months after your first kiss, you and Jamie were going strong. So far the relationship has been a secret to the public and the media. The team, though, found out a month into your relationship when Jamie got injured during training and you ran out of your office onto the pitch, ignoring Beard’s confused remarks as you sped past him. 

Jamie was lying on the pitch, forearms covering his eyes, trying not to think about the shooting pain from his ankle. You shoved Jan Maas and Richard away from Jamie, which made them protest, but quickly understood why you were in such a hurry to get to Jamie. You kneeled beside him, running your fingers through his hair. 

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, “You doing okay? How bad does it hurt?” 

He moved his arms at the sound of your voice. His eyes met yours and he immediately reached for your hand, threading your fingers together. “‘M okay, I think. Ankle hurts like a bitch, though.” 

You continued to tend to him as much as you could but quickly remembered that you two weren’t alone. Your eyes widened as you began to look around the circle that was forming around you and Jamie. 

“Fuuuuuuccckkkkk,” Jamie mumbled, realizing that you two now revealed your relationship to the team. He looked at you apologetically, “Sorry, bub.” 

“Oi, Bumbercatch!” The team’s attention shifted over to Isaac who had a smirk on his face. He held out his open palm, “You owe me ten pounds.” 

The team erupted in cheers, almost forgetting that Jamie was indeed hurt and would probably have to sit out a game or two. You looked down at Jamie and shrugged your shoulders, “Seems like they’re taking it well.” 

He laughed, propping himself up to sit up, “I’m glad we told them.” 

“Me too,” you replied, pressing your lips together. 

“I’m going to fucking gouge my eyes out.” You heard Roy say, though there was a hint of a smile in his voice. In sync, you and Jamie held up your middle finger in Roy’s direction, which earned the both of you a signature Roy Kent grunt in return. 

Much like your reveal to the team, your reveal to the general public was also just an accident. You were spending the weekend at Jamie’s flat as part of your six-month anniversary celebration. You just pulled up to his place, using one hand to unlock his door with the key he had made for you, and the other hand was used to carry in your large duffle bag. You heard him speaking in his living room and assumed that he was on a call with one of the lads. 

“Baby, I’m here!” You called out loudly, hanging your coat on his coat rack by the door. You walked toward his living room to find him staring at you wide-eyed, jaw hanging low. You giggled, “What’s wrong, love?” 

“I’m on Instagram live.” 

“Oh shit,” You mirrored his expression, facepalming. “I’m so sorry.” 

On Jamie’s screen, hundreds of comments about the interaction began to pop up. 

Holy shit???? Who was that?!!!

Jamie has a girlfriend!!!!! NOOOO THAT SHOULD BE ME!!!!

Does that voice sound familiar to u guys? I think that’s Y/N, I recognize her voice from Keeley’s stories. 

Jamie looked at you, trying to figure out what the best course of action was. You tilted your head as if asking, “Should we just do it?” He nodded, a huge smile taking over his features. 

“Well,” he began. “Cat’s out of the bag, I suppose. Get in here, love.” 

You spent the next thirty minutes answering questions from his fans on Instagram live. Some of the team even joined for a few minutes to fangirl over your relationship in the comments which made the two of you laugh. The next day, Jamie decided that it was time to make your relationship Instagram official by posting a photo from your anniversary dinner. It was a picture that cut off right above your lips, still giving a hint of anonymity, although many people already knew. You had your glass of wine in a cheers motion with his own. The caption read: “just us two. happy six.” 

The picture got more than two million likes in the first hour and hundreds of comments speculating who the girl in the picture was. You decided to comment on the post the day after, hoping that most of the hype around it was calming down. You rolled over Jamie’s side of the bed, smiling softly as he slept peacefully. 

You commented, “just us two (and the entire afc richmond team, including the coaches and admin) (so really just us two and fifty people). love you beyond words.”

You stayed in your little bubble of love for the rest of the weekend. After your social media launch, you stayed off the internet until you got back to work on Monday. When you finally checked social media, you were surprised to find that most of the public’s opinion of your and Jamie’s relationship was positive. However, there was one tweet that caught your eye. 

“Y/N Y/L/N is strong tbh. If my partner had the history of Jamie Tartt, I’d sleep with one eye open to keep an eye on him.” 

You frowned. You knew Jamie wasn’t like that. He would never do that to you, at least not now. He talked to you about how he used to be before you met him. He talked about how shit of a boyfriend he was to Keeley, how he was too much of a prick to be friends with the lads, but he also talked about how he grew from that and how he was no longer that person. And you believed him. It’s Jamie, of course, you believed him.

But that didn’t stop those voices in your head from taking over. Voices that sounded an awful lot like your ex’s friends who made those sly remarks. Voices that told you that you were replaceable. Voices that told you Jamie could do better, that Jamie should have better. Voices that drowned out the loving words of your boyfriend who loved you so much it hurt. 

The distance started out subtle. It started with telling Jamie that you had to get to Richmond earlier than normal because you had expenditure reports to look over. He even suggested that he'd go to Nelson Road extra early for you, but you refused. He pouted but reluctantly agreed to let you drive yourself to work instead of him picking you up. Jamie was upset that he no longer got to spend his mornings with you, but he was understanding and knew that it was for your job. 

Then, you started cutting your kisses short. During date nights, which used to be filled with lingering kisses that were surely too heated to be deemed acceptable PDA, you started to give Jamie quick pecks on the lips before pulling away. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable so he let it go and settled for the short kisses, even though it didn’t feel enough for him. Typically, you’d spend the night at his place after your dates, but recently you’ve been asking him to take you home, blaming the expenditure reports once more. Jamie, trying to be ever-so-understanding, drove you home, and slept in his own bed alone with a frown on his face. 

The final blow for Jamie was when you didn’t sit next to him on the bus to Tottenham. He sat patiently on the aisle seat, craning his neck up to see when you were coming in, as he knew you preferred the window seat. His eyes lit up when you entered the bus, smiling widely as you approached him. 

You refused to look him in the eye as you pointed toward the back of the bus, “Sorry, Jamie. Rebecca wants to talk about something so I think I’m gonna sit with her today.” 

“Oh,” he cleared his throat, trying not to show his disappointment. He didn’t want to force you to sit next to him. Of course, you were allowed to sit with Rebecca. It’s just that he missed you so much. He hasn’t seen you in a few days. You’ve barely replied to his texts. He felt like you were slipping away and he didn’t know what to do. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course. I’ll see you at the hotel, yeah?” 

You nodded, offering him a small smile. He smiled back sadly. When you walked away to sit in the back of the bus, Sam nudged him, asking him to scoot over so he could sit next to him. Jamie felt nauseous, and he blamed it on the fact that he hadn’t sat by the window in months, but he knew the real reason why. 

Throughout the entire bus ride, you kept sneaking glances at Jamie. You couldn’t see him too well being so far back in the bus. Rebecca, who was shocked to see you beside her instead of your boyfriend, was looking at you with a questioning expression. She closed the notebook she was writing in and crossed her arms. 

“Alright, spill,” she tutted, leaning back in her chair. “Why aren’t you sitting with Jamie? What has he done?” 

You shook your head, “Nothing. He hasn’t done anything.” 

“Then why do you look like the living sunlight was sucked right out of you?” You didn’t say anything. Rebecca sighed, rubbing your back comfortingly, “Whatever is happening. You need to talk to him about it. Nothing good is going to come out of you keeping things from him. Trust me.” 

You knew what Rebecca was saying was reasonable. It makes sense to talk to Jamie about things that were bothering you. The thing was, you had already convinced yourself that Jamie would be better off with anyone else but you. It’s not that you thought Jamie would ever cheat on you or compare you to his exes because that’s not Jamie. You knew this. But you couldn’t help but think about Jamie realizing he deserved better than you. 

It will only make things easier on you if you mentally prepare yourself for it. It was inevitable. After all, you were replaceable. 

By the time you arrived in Tottenham, you were feeling more anxious than ever. You knew you were sharing a room with Jamie as it became an unspoken rule since you first told the team about your relationship. You watched as Jamie exited the bus, trailing behind to create as much space between the two of you as possible. After Higgins distributed the keys, you took a deep breath and headed to the lifts. 

Jamie had gone ahead with Sam and Dani since you were standing to the side with Rebecca. In the elevator, Rebecca squeezed your hand in support and offered a kiss on your temple. When you arrived on the 10th floor, you waved goodbye to Rebecca and made your way to the room. 

Jamie was quietly unpacking his things when you walked in. He turned around, eyebrows furrowed and a frown tugging on the corners of his lips. You wanted to walk over and kiss the creases on his forehead away. He cleared his throat, “I can take the couch if ya want so you can have the bed. I know you’ve been working hard on those reports so you deserve a good night’s sleep.” 

“It’s alright, Jamie. I can take the couch. You have a game tomorrow that you need to be well-rested for.” 

“No, it’s fine,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He sounded defeated. “‘M not letting you sleep on the couch. You can take the bed and I can just stay with Isaac or Richard or something.” 

“No, Jamie, this is your room.” You said, standing your ground. 

“No it’s not!” He exclaimed, finally reaching his wit’s end. He stared at you, a look of frustration and brokenness evident on his face. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears from breaking free. “It’s our room! And I just... I just don’t understand what I’ve done wrong. What have I done wrong?”

You took two hesitant strides towards him. Jamie looked at you, hopeful that you’ll touch him again, this time without him making the first move. He missed feeling you draw sweet nothings on his skin with your fingers. Or the feeling of your lips on his jaw as you try to wake him up in the morning. Or the feeling of your arms wrapped around him in a warm embrace. 

You stopped short in front of him. His heart dropped. “You haven’t done anything, Jamie.” 

“So why do you keep pulling away? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages. Like a proper conversation. I haven’t kissed ya in days and it’s killing me. I feel like I’m losing you.” 

It was then, with Jamie staring at you with pleading eyes, that you realized how stupid you were being. You ran to him, broken sobs escaping your body, as he stumbled back, unsure of what was happening. Jamie engulfed you in his arms, kissing your head as he tried to console you. You spoke into his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Jamie.” 

“Hey,” he cooed, pulling you away. He led you to the bed to sit you down. You sat criss-crossed on the bed, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. You didn’t even want to imagine how much of a mess you must look like right now. He reached over to place a hand on your thigh, rubbing circles to help you calm down. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, hm? What’s the matter?” 

“I’ve been such a dick to you,” you confessed, sniffling silently. You placed a hand on top of his, giving it a light squeeze, “I’ve been avoiding you.” 

“Yeah, I gathered that,” he tried to joke, offering you one of those award-winning smiles you were a goner for. “But what I don’t know is why. Talk to me, please.” 

“D’ya remember when Keeley told you guys to be extra nice to me because I’d just broken up with someone?” 

Confused, Jamie nodded his head. “Yeah?” 

“Well, there are things I want to say to you, but I don’t really like talking about it. Took me ages to even open up to Keeley and Rebecca about how bad it was,” you trailed off, looking away. You suddenly felt so small under Jamie’s gaze, like you were unscrewing the top of your head to give him a full view of all the fucked up things in there. You felt so exposed, but you knew you couldn’t keep this from him anymore. It was affecting him now, too. “My ex, he used to do this thing that kind of fucked me up really bad. He used to compare me to his ex-girlfriends and it made me feel like shit. His friends used to make these jokes about how he was a playboy and would probably get tired of me soon or would make condescending comments about me staying with him because they knew nobody could really tie him down. Like I was stupid for being with him or something.” 

Jamie frowned, internalizing your words. He looked down on his lap, lip quivering, “You think I’m like that? Like I’m just playin’ with ya?” 

Your eyes widened. You quickly shook your head, “No, not at all! I just… I was with him for over a year and when you hear those things said about you enough times, you start believing them. I got in my head thinking that you could and should do better than me and it made me pull away from you.” 

Jamie remained quiet, but the expression on his face changed to a more neutral one. You continued, “I figured it would be easier for you to come to the conclusion that you deserve more than me if I gave you the space, you know? I was trying to help you realize that I’m replaceable, but it backfired on me because now you think you did something wrong– which you absolutely haven’t.” 

He sat there, not saying a word, trying to comprehend what you just told him. He blinked, “Babe, that’s absolutely mad.” 

You couldn’t help but let a laugh escape your lips as a teasing smile made its way to Jamie’s face. He followed suit before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down to lie on the bed with him. He rolled the both of you over so he was hovering on top of you. Jamie nudged your nose with his, “Don’t get me wrong, your feelings are valid. I would kill that prick and his twat friends if you let me, but love, you are everything I’ve ever wanted. You are not replaceable to me.” 

“It’s just hard to hear you when there’s so much nonsense noise in my head, you know?” you whispered, holding his face in the palm of your hand. “Sometimes those pesky voices are just so loud.” 

“Well,” he got up off of you and propped himself next to you. He gave you a cheeky smirk before leaning back. Then in the loudest voice he could manage, he yelled, “I love you! I love you! I love you, Y/N Y/L/N! There is nobody else for me. I love yo-” 

Fearing that he wouldn’t stop anytime soon, you covered his mouth with your hand, laughing loudly at how ridiculous the whole situation was. Jamie’s eyes twinkled with something you’d missed over the last few days and the sound of his muffled chuckles was like music to your ears. You removed your hand from his mouth. 

“Loud enough, do ya reckon?” he joked. Then, he looked at you seriously. He inched closer to you, sighing in relief when you didn’t pull away. “But seriously, love. Whenever those voices come creepin’ back in, just let me know, yeah? Talk to me. I don’t think I can handle another day like that again. It was my own personal hell, to be honest.” 

You wiped the tears from your eyes and nodded. You placed your lips on Jamie’s, allowing your kiss to last as long as possible before you had to pull away for air. You snuggled against him, basking in the scent of his cologne. “I promise I will, Jamie. I love you.” 

“I love you, too.”

[thepunkranger]

Resident Evil Characters - A Summary

Note: This is entirely my own opinion and said with a heavy dose of humor

Please enjoy

Chris Redfield

OG

Started as a twunk

Became an angry gorilla man???

Alpha Male™️

Punches boulders

Wants you to marry his sister

Smoker

Hide yo kids, hide yo wife

Rude to wait staff

2/10 - Just a guy. Hit him with your car

-

Jill Valentine

Other OG

Arguably better main of RE1

Master of Unlocking

Bisexual Bob™️

Butch

Supercop

Once got mind-controlled into going blonde

Rocket Launcher babe

PTSD

Big Strap Energy

Giant anime gun

10/10

-

Albert Wesker

OG Baddy

Sunglasses

Thinks he’s cool

A little too into Chris

“What are we going to do this game, Albert?”

“What we do every game, Alex: try to take over the world”

Matrix jacket

Maybe a vampire?

Looks like my uncle (derogatory)

4/10

-

Barry Burton

Bear

A+ line delivery

Just happy to be a part of things

Wishes his daughter would talk to him

Comes through in a pinch

Got lost on his way to The Last of Us

Father figure

Not dead out of sheer dumb luck

8/10

-

Rebecca Chambers

Baby butch

Sees the best in everyone

Autism be damned, my girl can work a shotgun

Sporty

Mommy Domme/Babygirl switch vibes

Sweet coffee addict

Doing fine, thanks for asking

Awkward thumbs up

9/10

-

Billy Coen

Bad Boy™️

Never bothered to take off his handcuffs

Tattoos

Mullet???

Moral standards

Strong silent type

Whole situation could’ve been avoided by just talking about his issues but no

Queen fan

7/10

-

Leon S. Kennedy

If a golden retriever became a human and then got kicked every day of its life

Having a really bad first day

Into dominant women

Dumb 90s haircut

Uses comedy as a coping mechanism

Hair grows in direct correlation to his level of angst

“Hey demons, it’s me, ya boi”

Sexy

Dog lover

Certified Good Boy™️

Fucked up a perfectly good rookie is what you did. Look at it, it’s got depression

15/10

-

Claire Redfield

College student stuck in the zombie apocalypse

Soft butch

Humanitarian

Forced her brother to teach her how to knife fight

Really into motorcycles

Leather jacket

Rocket Launcher babe #2

Always has at least one adopted child with her

10/10 would ask to babysit

-

Ada Wong

Mommy. Sorry. Mommy- sorry. Mommy-

Grappling hook

Badass spy

Emotionally distant

Soft spot for cute cuddly things (Leon)

Femme fatale

Book lover

Chaotic neutral

Crossbow 😍

Could step on me and I’d say thank you

Rocket launcher babe #3

10/10

-

Sherry Birkin

Goosebumps protagonist

Worst parents ever tbh

Surprisingly good under pressure

Please someone get this girl some therapy

Supergirl

Smartest person here

One hell of a shot

The trauma is immeasurable

Somehow still doing fine

Loves her weird adopted family

8/10

-

Carlos Oliviera

Himbo

First POC main?

Went from three polygons and a white boy haircut in the original to actual gorgeous South American hunk in the remake

Lost his accent along the way for some reason

#1 Jill simp

If Dug from Up was a guy

Only trustworthy person in the whole series

Just wants to help

Gorgeous gorgeous hair

Loves strong women

Hakuna matata

Touch-starved

10/10 would peg

-

Steve Burnside

Twink

Who is this sassy lost child?

Hot Topic employee

Into Claire (she’s too old for you bud)

Choker

Thinks he’s edgy

Whiny

Daddy issues

1/10

-

Luis Serra Navaro

If Puss in Boots was a human

The Most Extra™️

Luscious flowing locks

Definitely into bondage

Used to work for Umbrella

Trying to make up for it

Don Quixote references

Bisexual

Good with his hands

Praying for a threesome with Leon and Ada

10/10

-

Ashley Graham

Basic white girl

Always getting kidnapped

Master of Unlocking #2

Razor flip phone

Ada Wong bisexual awakening (same)

Good with a wrecking ball

Makes Leon catch her every time she has to jump a ledge (also same)

Would like to go to Hot Topic, please

7/10

-

Sheva Alomar

Player 2

Second POC main

Bad AI

Too good for her game

Willing to go on a suicide mission with a guy she just met

Left handed

Deserves a better stylist

Only good part of RE5

Literally my girl got done so dirty just give her another chance please

10/5

-

Moira Burton

“It’s not a phase, dad!”

Probably gay

Weak arms

Skillz

Box dyed her hair at least once

Simple Plan playing in the background

Childhood trauma

7/10

-

Piers Nivans

Trying his best

Appreciates a good steak

Sick of Chris’ bullshit

Good with a rifle

Just a good man

German Shepherd boy

Self-sacrificing

8/10

-

Jake Muller

Wesker’s son

Daddy issues

Who invited Ronan Lynch here?

Quips for days

Bad boy

Loves the type of woman who can kick his ass

The Most Edgy™️

9/10

-

Ethan Winters

Husband of the year

Trusting

Surprisingly chill

The most basic white man in all of RE

Hands? What hands?

Functionally a lizard

Would still love you if you were a worm

Just casually knows how to craft bullets

Moldy

8/10

-

Mia Winters

Toxic girlfriend energy

Literally possessed

Dark sense of humor

Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss

Casually working for a bioterrorism organization

Does actually care about her family

Definitely doesn’t have a penicillin allergy

If you can’t be the girl of his dreams, you can at least be the feral swamp witch of his nightmares

2/10

-

Zoe Baker

Lesbian

Mold intolerance

Southern accent thicker than grandma’s gravy

Picked last on the playground

Somehow okay despite her brother being Like That

Joe’s favorite

Science skills

8/10

-

Lucas Baker

Jigsaw

Didn’t even need the mold

Probably got at least one true crime documentary made about him

Working for Mia’s bioterrorism organization

Left his classmate rotting in the attic

Just the worst

0/10

-

Alcina Dimetrescu

Mommy

Please step on me

Elizabeth Bathory vibes

Just fucking huge

Can turn into a dragon

Lesbian

9/10

-

Karl Heisenberg

Grimy

Tumblr Sexyman

When robotics majors get weird

Fights with his siblings

Doesn’t actually care at all about Miranda

In cahoots with the lycans

7/10

-

Rosemary Winters

Mommy and Daddy issues

YA protagonist

Badass

Childhood trauma

Into the Mold-verse

Alternate universe Sherry Birkin

8/10

[pearwaldorf]

we need to talk about Rahaeli

This is slightly tangential to the dumpster fire that is OTW, but it is something I think is important to also take into consideration.

If you're following the comments on the OTW announcement posts, you may have seen reference to Rahaeli (Twitter) aka synedochic (DW) aka Denise. She is a co-founder of Dreamwidth, where FFA is hosted.

Denise is a Fandom Elder, in both the descriptive and derogatory senses of the term. She's been around forever, since the pre-Livejournal days. She has no hesitations about throwing around that Fandom Elder status, in the same way somebody like Franzeska or astolat or anybody else in the clique that founded OTW would.

Perspective from older fans is absolutely valuable, I want to emphasize. You want people who were there to explain why we are concerned about restrictions on explicit/queer/legal but "morally objectionable" fanwork, or how younger fans embrace purity rhetoric. But it's different the way Fandom Elders wield it, the implicit assumption that because they are older and have Seen Some Shit, they automatically have some sort of wisdom to transmit to the young'uns.

Denise knows a great deal about social media moderation, anti-harassment measures, and the legal obligations surrounding the discovery of CSEM/CSAM* on sites you're responsible for administrating. That expertise is extremely valuable when explaining to people why/how everything with OTW is very very concerning.

She also knows fandom very well, and exactly how to calibrate her words to push buttons. I remember her meltdown about Cohost, another social media site that looked like a viable competitor to Dreamwidth at the time. Here is a summary of it I wrote at the time.

I'd like to get into criticism of the part of that Twitter thread where she throws a random non-sequitur into an already extremely long thread. (I know this is already a long post, please bear with me.)

At this point, she's gone on about OTW, their gross neglect of volunteers, Rebecca Tushnet, and a bunch of other stuff for like three or four screens. They are all things we should rightly be appalled by, so we're on her side for saying things that need to be said. We are probably also getting a little tired and not reading things as closely as we should. I think this is absolutely deliberate.

She then pivots the thread to EndOTWRacism (hereafter EOR) with what seems like an offhand comment about how she doesn't agree with their goals. She wrongly characterizes the end goal of EOR's campaign as a desire to moderate fic on AO3. This is patently false and is explicitly stated on their call for action under What Do We Want. They want AO3 to come up with anti-harassment policies and content policies for abusive and racist fics (what some people would characterize as troll fics), which are clearly written to degrade and harm fans of color**. We are not talking about fics with bigoted stereotypes or racist characterization.

EOR links heavily to work by Stitchmediamix, a well-known and outspoken Black anti-racist advocate in fandom. They write a column about race and fandom for Teen Vogue, and have been the target of incredible amounts of harassment. Denise thinks it's biased and kinda weird EOR does this.

The reason EOR relies so heavily on Stitch's work (and that of Dr. Rukmini Pande) is because very few people actually write about this stuff. It's horrible, thankless work that doesn't get you good attention but needs to be discussed anyways. (Acafandom, such as that which gets published in OTW's journal Transformative Works and Cultures, is racist as fuck, but that's a whole other topic.)

Here we see yet another impossible standard white fans are never held to, the one where non-white (but especially Black) fans must be ideologically pure with no lapses in temper or frustration. Whomst among us would be able to respond with perfect grace every single time they were set upon by racist mobs?

We depart from the Twitter thread here because Denise has made a statement on Dreamwidth about why she included all the stuff about Stitch when she was making a critique of EOR. The summary of the post is basically "A bunch of people told me stuff, I saw screenshots, but I won't even share redacted ones, so just trust me OK?"

I don't know Stitch (we have corresponded exactly once) or follow their work***, but I feel like if there were actual evidence they send harassment towards other fans surely it would have come up on FFA by now. The nonnies don't like them over there, and I suspect anything that proves they have actually done anything of the sort would be like throwing chum to piranhas.

Probably the most galling bit of Denise's post is this:

Under no circumstances should anyone use my writing, my own arguments, or my repetition of the concerns of the fans of color who have reached out to me, as an excuse to engage in racist harassment of Stitch or of anyone involved in the EndOTWRacism protest.

She knows exactly what she's doing. It's like dangling a steak in front of a hungry dog and telling it "Please don't lunge towards it because I'm telling you not to."

The second most galling bit is the way she, a white woman with a great deal of institutional power, justfies pointing even more racist harassment towards a Black fan known for continued anti-racist activism even though it makes their life hell and calls it solidarity.

Fuck that noise. As Dr. Pande says, there are many ways to discuss incidents like this without identifying individuals. Denise could have posted a person's account, in their own words, of their harassment experience. Even in an attempt to demonstrate faux solidarity she denies POC fans a voice.

I am glad Denise can contribute her technical and legal expertise to explaining precisely how the OTW has been negligent in their responsibilities to their volunteers and how they are noncompliant with important laws regarding extremely harmful material. I regret she has undermined this important work with unnecessary detours into racism and incitement of harassment.

I am extremely angry about having to make this post. It's another pile of shit on top of an already giant dumpster fire. But apparently upholding racism and white supremacy is still something people in fandom are going to do, even as an important organization within it burns down around our ears.

--

*There is a difference (cw: duh) between the terms! I did not know this until yesterday.

**I'm not getting into definitions or hair-splitting about this because it's not the point of this post.

***If you are interested in actually reading Stitch's work, here is a great place to start.

[ughhhdavid]

Rewatching their dinner with this in mind made me notice some stuff.

Trent's face when Ted compliments his writing!!!! He looks so sad! I don't think he experiences these kinds of genuine compliments very often!

His reaction to Ted saying he enjoyed "getting to" spend time with him! Ted is acting like it's a privilege, an honor. Trent's response is almost derogatory. "You actually mean that, don't you?" It must be another sign of Ted being out of touch, that he has no idea what he's doing. Surely, it must be a display of poor judgment on his part. Because what kind of person would enjoy spending time with him?? What kind of person would have the gall to enjoy his presence?

Trent built these walls, he looked for the worst in people and tried to expose them in order to keep them at a distance. Because it was safer to hurt everyone else, than to let anyone in and have his worst belief about himself be confirmed: that he was unlovable. So he settled for being feared.

Meanwhile Ted had so much to lose going into that interview. Rebecca set it up in order to ruin his reputation even further! But he chose to treat Trent with kindess and respect. Not like a prick who could destroy his career, but like a friend, a "cool person", a talented writer. No wonder Trent's heart exploded! Ted did something no one has done before! He saw the best in him, all that which Trent couldn't allow himself to show the world, he made him see that, even at this point, he still deserved to be loved!!

[rooolt]

N E ways here’s how I think the season 2 parents all got together

Rebecca and Sparrow - High school sweethearts (derogatory) both based on the age of hero and the fact that I think they’re fucking insane. Very much the type to get married as quickly as possible because to sparrow that’s what you had to do to be normal and they’re definitely each others only relationship ever (unless you count Rebecca and lark)

grant and marco - met in college and dated for a long time before they got married and then adopted Lincoln like a year after that. I think grant had maybe one or two boyfriends beforehand but those relationships didn’t end great

Cassandra and Nicky - they strike me as the type who like met at a bar or at a party or something and when they first started dating it was like a lot of fun and it was really high energy and they figured why not get married but then after they had Taylor/were about to have him it was kinda like “oh this isn’t gonna work”. I think Nicky probably has been with people but no really stable relationships because of the whole hell demon thing and also it’s in his blood

terry and Veronica - they are so normal to me probably just like a dating app or something. And Veronica was all like “oh I have a full teenage daughter with the same name as you is that cool” and terry was like *disregards everything he knows about daddy magic and how much the world sucks* “oh yeah totally”. Terry had a number of normal regular guy relationships throughout his life cause he’s just a guy to me

[vitospaghetta]

What makes you say remake Leon puts an emotional barrier with people? I haven't been long in this game's story so i don't know much of the difference between the OGs :/

Both interpretations of Leon struggle with this to a degree, but I'd like to make it clear that I do not mean this in the sense that Leon is shy or otherwise reserved. What I mean is that his perception of the world and how he chooses to deal with his issues influences how he effectively communicates with those around him.

Leon is an amazing communicator when it comes to everything but that which makes him most vulnerable — that being his trauma, and the unprocessed feelings he has regarding it. He intentionally places a certain degree of distance between himself and others when it comes to authentically expressing his distress, so much so that the only times we ever see him directly disclose how he genuinely feels are in Infinite Darkness (the scene between him and Jason) and Vendetta (the hotel scene with Chris and Rebecca). One day I'll get to writing my deep dives on both scenes, but for now I'll say that it's worth noting that both of these displays of authenticity are arguably somewhat involuntary, which says a lot about how much of a charade Leon puts on to suppress his feelings.

When I see RE4R Leon, I see apprehension to get too close, burdened by the resentment over the lack of agency he has over his life. He has so much to give others, so much compassion and kindness, but still skirts around his own feelings in the same way he avoids bear traps. His perception of the world is warped due to trauma, as is his perception of himself. You can't convince me that he actually believes Ada when she tells him that he hasn't changed. Something interesting about that scene is that when he talks about how he perceives himself as different from who he was prior to Raccoon City, he means it in a derogatory way. Though when he's asking Ada if she's changed, he's asking it with tentative positivity. It's as if he's clinging to the hope that Ada isn't who he thinks she is, that just maybe her morals aren't as skewed as he's come to understand, despite the better part of himself not believing it.

Another good example in RE4R is how quick he is to judge Luis once he finds out he was a researcher for Umbrella — how justified he feels in that anger until further along in the game after genuinely getting to know him. He doesn't let on why Luis' employment with Umbrella bothers him so much, but he doesn't hesitate to project his feelings onto him and instantly dictate his perception of him regardless. He sees him as untrustworthy, as a liar, and is unwilling to hear him out. Compare this reaction to Luis to his reaction to Krauser. This is someone who played a significant role in the life he lives now, who actually is a liar, and Leon still has a bias towards him. Which is because Krauser was not involved with Raccoon City, and that's where Leon defines his 'before' and 'after.'

Leon doesn't view the world the way others do, and the beliefs he has about the life he's living now vs the one that he feels was taken from him makes him unable to conceptualize normalcy as being a part of it. This and his inability to allow himself authenticity (which would mean being vulnerable and sitting with thoughts/emotions that upset him) is what ultimately what causes his breakdowns in communication.

[passingreviews]

Searching for Self: “Passing” Review

By Danielle Bing

Director Rebecca Hall’s debut feature length film Passing by Rebecca Hall was inspired by the 1929 novel Passing by author Nella Larsen. Hall’s career has been as an actress but in 2021 she made her directorial debut with this film. Passing follows two Black women, Irene Redfield played by Tessa Thompson and Clare Bellow played by Ruth Negga are old friends who have recently reunited. As Irene and Clare become reacquainted with each other Irene soon discovers that her childhood friend has been “passing” as a white woman. While Irene’s complexion is also light enough for to pass as well, she instead chose to live her life as a Black woman. As the film unfolds, the audience watches Irene as she questions her identity through Clare’s expression of her identity.   

Rebecca Hall’s film adaptation of Larsen’s novel came into fruition as a personal journey to understand her family’s background. During an interview with actress Uzo Aduba entitled “How Passing Was Adapted From Book To Netflix” for the But Have You Read the Book? Youtube book club webseries–Hall explained that throughout her childhood her mother seemed to have African American features however, when she questioned her mom about it she would dismiss the question. Eventually Hall’s mother revealed to her that her maternal grandfather was an African American man who chose to pass for white and the family never spoke about it. How Passing Was Adapted From Book To Netflix | But Have You Read The Book? The film, like the book, is a narrative that explores the aspects of identity and how identity forms perceptions of one’s own self and the external perceptions of other people.

What Really Made The Movie: The Details or The Acting? 

The cinematography of Passing is absolutely breathtaking! Given that this is Hall’s first feature length film one might not expect the level of intricate detail that is captured in this film. One of the strengths that can be seen throughout the film in both the details and the acting is ambiguity. The film is beautifully shot in Black and White during the 1920s in New York. This gives the film a more authentic feeling as it is a period piece. Had the movie been shot in color it would have taken away from a sense of realness that would have come from a colorized film. When the viewer watches the film closely they can see the many tones of gray and the shadows which enhance the costuming and settings. The absence of color forces the viewer to watch more closely in order to really see the details in the costumes, makeup, and props. By shooting the film in Black and White it enhances Irene and Clare’s ability to perform varying aspects of identity like race and class. Additionally, the film being shot in Black and White also makes it more difficult for the viewer to determine the skin complexions of Irene and Clare and complicates how they are perceived by others.

One of the scenes that captures the perception of how Clare and Irene are viewed well is towards the beginning of the film when Clare introduces Irene to her white husband John. Irene is surprised that Clare has a white husband. During their short conversation John makes several derogatory statements about African Americans. Irene in a sharp and direct tone asks “So, you dislike Negroes, Mr. Bellew?” John, without hesitation and in an assertive tone responds to Irene’s question stating “No, no, no, not at all. I hate them” as John and Clare laugh (Passing, 2021, 17:10 to 17:18). Irene abruptly begins to laugh in an off-putting and hysterical manner as she masks how she truly feels and does not draw any curiosity from John that would make him pay closer attention to her risking her true racial identity. This mask of laughter while uncomfortable for Irene affirms John’s racist behavior. Irene knows that if she says something to challenge John’s blatant racism she could be caught and her and potentially Clare’s safety could be jeopardized.         

The camera shots and angles force the viewer to focus on the acting of one or two characters at a time. Hall has discussed in several interviews such as: Tessa Thompson & Rebecca Hall Break Down the Dance Scene from 'Passing' | Vanity Fair and MVFF44: 'Passing' - Conversation with Rebecca Hall, Ruth Negga, Nina Yang Bongiovi that she used a 4:3 frame for most of the film which concentrates on the actor and blurs out the edges of the frame. One of scenes that shows this framing really well is during the dance scene.

The camera lens focuses on Irene and Hugh and blurs the space and background allowing the viewer to pay close attention to their conversation. Both Irene and Hugh are observing and commenting on the people in the room. As they are talking Hugh is commenting and questioning Clare because she has a commanding presence. Suddenly Hugh realizes that Clare is actually a Black woman who is “passing.” Along with Clare’s light complexion, her speech and dress simulate those of a middle-class white woman. Not only is Clare passing by race but also by socio-economic status as well making her seem so believable as a white woman. If you are not watching her very closely most people would not realize that she is a Black woman. Clare performs her whiteness so well that her own husband does not even notice that she is actually a Black woman.

Sound is one of  the most intricate aspects incorporated throughout the film. Sound makes the film compelling in several ways. From the opening seconds to the very ending of the film, sound enhances the film and supports the pace of the film. The sounds throughout the film help to signal the viewers feelings in particular moments, especially the moments when Irene’s inner self feels seen or when she is the one observing others. The undersounds of the film help to capture what is happening in a particular scene and how a character might be feeling.

The acting of the main characters: Clare and Irene make the narrative believable. Clare and Irene in particular, need one another in order for the film to work because of the personality differences of the characters. Irene needs Clare to self-reflect on her identity and who she thinks she is as she is going through a personal identity crisis. The exceptional acting by Tessa Thompson (Irene) and Ruth Negga (Clare) shine through their respectable characters. Thompson’s ability to play a character who is so uncertain of herself and Negga’s portrayal of a woman who is so free and does not conform to the labels of society are difficult to play. Once the viewer thinks that they understand a character something happens and disrupts their beliefs and makes them begin to question their knowledge of the character once again.

The Binaries of Identity: What Does It Mean to Pass?

Historically, American social structures have formed hierarchies which have shaped our understanding of identity. Social-hierarchical structures place value and provide meaning which impact how people are perceived. While a person can move between economic classes, race is often considered as a fixed category of identity. During the early-twentieth century the “one-drop” law was enacted to legally define racial status. Essentially, any person with any African ancestry became part of the Black racial group. Race is one of the most powerful social constructs, especially in America. Someone being labeled as a Black person created many societal disadvantages especially during the early-twentieth century. When a person steps outside of their assigned or assumed “category” it causes concern because they are disrupting social norms. Irene demonstrates this well in the film. Before Irene reunites with Clare, she was living a life where she conformed to society's expectations of a woman. Irene is a middle-class Black woman who adheres to the politics of respectability and tries not to draw attention to herself. Whereas Clare does not fit into a binary, does what is expected of a middle-class white woman, and welcomes the attention of others. By refusing to label herself she appears free to the viewer. So free that it can become uncomfortable or even frustrating when trying to understand Clare. 

Clare welcomes the gaze of other people, and she enjoys it. Rebecca Hall describes Clare as someone who has an identity without boundaries. During the same interview with Uzo Aduba Hall explains  “Clare is gay when she needs to be. She’s straight when she needs to be. She behaves like a man when she needs to be. She behaves like a woman when she needs to be. She’s black. She’s white. She’s this walking duality.” (How Passing Was Adapted From Book To Netflix | But Have You Read The Book?, 2021, How Passing Was Adapted From Book To Netflix | But Have You Read The Book?) She is constantly “passing”. Passing brilliantly shows the fluidity of identity rather than identity as being a fixed state. Clare’s character portrays this throughout the film as she continuously moves between race, class, sexuality, and culture. She is visible and invisible at the same time.

When viewing the film ,it is important to do so when you can focus without distractions because symbolism is incorporated everywhere in the film. From the costumes, accessories, and makeup to each prop. Hall’s usage of symbolism and foreshadowing through props and sound helps to control the pace and the feeling in different scenes. Irene is constantly dropping and breaking things. We first see her drop a flowerpot out of the front window of her home. Later , we see her at a party strongly gripping a teapot and dropping it as she stares at Clare who is receiving attention from everyone. These moments lead up to the ambiguous ending of the film. Symbolism also allows the viewer to form their own interpretations of Irene and Clare’s behaviors and emotions.

Was She Pushed? Did She Jump? Or Was It Something Else…?

Hall, like Larsen, purposely left many aspects of the film ambiguous. Making the decision not to provide all the answers to a film is unusual. However, by doing so the viewer's interpretation allows them to create their own conclusions about the characters identities, actions, and feelings. This also allows for the viewer to project their own beliefs and then reflect on them. This is skillfully done and keeps the viewer questioning, guessing, and rethinking what the characters are thinking and feeling throughout the movie and creates a constant reexamining of one’s self. 

The ending of the film leaves the audience in suspense because what happens to Clare is left untold. The ending allows the audience the ability to choose their own ending. The lack of knowing strengthens the film because it further complicates the narrative and themes within the film. As well as invites interaction from the audience by causing them to grapple with the ending of the movie and how they come to their conclusion. This allows all assumptions to be true and the film reveals that there can be more than one truth.

[roamwithahungryheart]

I haven’t seen anyone mention it yet and given you catch all the significant wardrobe moments, I was wondering your thoughts on both Ted and Rebecca wearing red in this week’s episode? Given the red string of fate, it seems like an interesting wardrobe choice. This show makes me overanalyze like crazy, so could be nothing!

The use of red in this episode was definitely intentional.

I think by putting Rebecca's outfit specifically against the backdrop of Arsenal, it's a way of pushing it to the back of our minds because hey, Arsenal's team logo is red, it's not that deep, right? HOWEVER!

Starting the episode with Ted wearing red, followed by Ted tripping over the red string (of fate) and Rebecca wearing red at the end of the episode is a narrative choice in terms of fashion & using costume design to convey meaning and character traits. The show's costume designer Jacky Levy has talked about this a little bit - Hannah chooses Rebecca's outfits alongside Jacky, and she's said that 'every choice is deliberate'. When you look at Rebecca's outfits through that lens, it makes them even more interesting!

Looking at Ted & Rebecca's red clothing throughout the show, there's a unifying theme - they both wear red when they're faced with change/challenges. Ted first wore a red polo shirt when he started to struggle with the split from Michelle. In that same episode, Ted & Rebecca walk alongside each other, both wearing red.

Rebecca's wearing red when Ted has his 'white knighting' moment in the pub. It's also worth noting that prior to this, Ted brings her biscuits & chocolate truffles as a thank you gift (which she eats exactly the way Ted suggests, before he has the chance to finish suggesting it) and they have the 'metaphorical St. Bernard' conversation.

Rebecca's red Roland Mouret dress on her date with John Wingsnight (derogatory) is worn underneath a biscuit box pink coat. Thinking about the 'struck by lightning' conversation, make of that what you will 👀

Similarly - although maybe this is a stretch and just a little bit of wishful thinking - Ted & Rebecca both wearing matching shades of red at Ola's on opening night when she receives the matchbook hits a little different after this week's episode.

3x07 gave us a clear indication that rom-communism is alive and well and on its way back to Richmond. Juxtaposing Rebecca's awkward moment meeting Sam's Dad with Simi meeting him closes the book on the connection with Sam. Sure, the Ola's red aprons might be nothing, but in the context of the red string of fate, Sam's Dad's apron strings 'tie' Sam & Simi together at the end of the episode.

Where does that leave Ted & Rebecca? At this point we don't know. But given the amount of times they've mirrored each other, and that ACNE Studios knot ring Rebecca wears to dinner with Keeley (more on that later), there's one more string left to tie this season.

[july-19th-club]

a book that made you chew your own face off (affectionate) and a book that made you chew your own face off (derogatory)

ooooooh good one okay i LOVED Some Desperate Glory and but also even moreso I loved Leech, which is what i'd put in the face-chewing category if ever there was one . read leech by hiron ennes everybody read leech by hiron ennes right now.

babel and bunny made me chew my face off derogatory so so badly and so much babel just WANTED to be what it wasn't so soooo bad. tried so hard and in the end it didnt even matter (preaching to the choir, prose nowhere near as evocative as everybody said it was, some very weird underlying politics for a Politics Book, especially as regards the working class of both england and canton). also, and this is just a Me Thing because lots of people *don't* like this, but when they said 'this book is like a textbook/this book is like a real history book' they were exaggerating so sorry babel enjoyers but it was actually very narrative and not at all textbooky. she's just not the extreme visionary she's painted as! sorry rebecca! get your third ph.d and i hope your academic writing is better than your fiction! but given the very bad newspaper article in chapter 32 i doubt it. i actually wrote up a whole three or five page document that's still in my computer of all the gripes i had with this book, with page numbers for the edition i read. maybe someday i'll post it.

bunny was such a let-down. the people calling it crazyinsaneWEIRD have not read weird enough books because this book is weird(complimentary) for about five chapters in the middle and then becomes very predictable and the pacing was incredibly slow for a book that is like. maybe 200 pages long.

both of these books had very exciting premises and then simply did not deliver on them as hard as they could have. as one of my favorite reviews of rf kuang's other recent standalone, yellowface, says, "THIS RESOLUTION DOESN'T GO FAR ENOUGH!"

[jvstheworld]

My Ted Lasso Re-watch: S1E2 (part 2)

Biscuits

Ted holding the door open for Rebecca, he's just so patient.

Solid entrance from Keeley, respect for me and Ted.

Rebecca doesn't have time to answer Keeley's question but as soon as Ted answers with the opposite of what she would say, she joins in the conversation.

Rebecca says lion because that's the image she wants to give off, strong, powerful, in control, intimating. She is a woman in a male dominated field, she needs to be this way to be ahead.

Ted is a panda because he is non-threatening and positive. He doesn't need to be tough to do his job, but he does need to get people to trust him. And what would you trust more, a lion or a panda?

Jamie doesn't want to be anything else because of how he sees himself. But that all changes in season 3 with the arrival of Zava and then total football.

'Psychologically healthy' it might be the only part of Jamie that is psychologically healthy.

Jamie says 'cheers' and Ted answers 'Night Court'. Night Court is an 80s sitcom set in a court room. It now has a revival show.

Going through the notes in the suggestion box and most just say 'wanker'. Except for Roy who really wanted to let them know his feelings.

There's one note that Ted refuses to read out. Does it perhaps say a certain c-word?

A wanker is a derogatory term for a person who masturbates, for those who do not know.

Ted says 'hold my beer' to Beard when he's drinking coffee. But come on Ted, Shannon will kick your butt at football.

Ted bursting through the door at Higgins' bad food pun is everything. He's so aggressive when he does it.

More great decorated boxes from Nate which Ted loves.

Jamie is a twat for sticking gum in the box.

Ted catches Jamie mimicking calling him a wanker in the mirror and shakes his head in disappointment.

Ted remembers Trent. He is pretty memorable.

The collective groan from the other reporters when one says he's from The S*n is the correct response. It is a trashy tabloid rag that prays on people and spreads hate. If you want to know how hated it is, look up Hillsborough. A very tragic event in football history, made worse by their reporting of it. To this day, The S*n has not apologised for what they did, and you cannot buy it in Liverpool.

The same arsehole from The S*n calls Rebecca 'Ms Mannion' not Welton because he is trying to get a rise from her. Don't poke the lion.

What an absolute bellend, telling Rebecca about the affair. Way to rub salt in the wound.

Ted saw how Rebecca was affected by the question in the press room and wanted to cheer her up. Because he is a good man.

[goddesspharo]

people I'd like to know better tag

Thanks to @at-thestillpoint for the tag!

Last song: I heard that stupid “updated” “We Didn’t Start The Fire” cover that Fall Out Boy did over the weekend and have been annoyed about it since then (it’s bad and not chronological which is literally the whole point!!! also how has their sound not evolved IN TWENTY YEARS??) so I’ve been listening a lot to the Billy Joel original (a timeless classic; the only one who should be updating is Billy Joel). But the actual last last song I listened to was Pearl Jam’s “Rearviewmirror” while eating a bag of chips for dinner because I’m on call and work is killing me. 

Currently watching: I watch a lot of movies (and that’s not even logging rewatches). I just finished rewatching the Mission Impossible franchise this weekend in anticipation of the new film (…after having rewatched the franchise last summer when the teaser trailer for MI7 got me so hyped) and, honestly, name a better franchise - you can’t because Fast & Furious has fallen off the rails (derogatory) and even when a Mission Impossible movie is bad (MI2), everyone has great hair! The soft reboot of energy starting with Ghost Protocol has only reinvigorated it. Tom Cruise can make these movies forever as far as I’m concerned and I’ll keep watching them. More recently, I watched Traffic today and it was both terrible (narrative wise) and hideous (did Soderbergh film all of the Mexico scenes on the sun???) and I cannot believe that THIS movie out of all the other (great!) movies he has ever done is what got him an Oscar for directing. Thanks, I hate it. TV-wise: I’m trying to catch up on Silo aka the show where Rebecca Ferguson keeps doing insane things and getting people killed (but also why won’t anyone make out with Common???) because apparently the only Apple TV show I’m actually capable of remembering to keep up with every week is Platonic, which more people should watch because Rose Byrne and Seth Rogen playing off each other is ALWAYS gold. They are my Jessica Chastain/Michael Shannon team up of comedy.

Currently reading: I’ve been trying to finish Laura Dave’s The Last Thing He Told Me for ages, but it’s as much of a slog as the show so I’m not sure that it’ll ever happen (…for either? God, I just want to get to the Victor Garber part!). Working my way through Making Rumours slowly and am about to start reading Piers Paul Read’s Alive: The Story of the Andes Survivors (one of the inspirations behind Yellowjackets!), but I really need to listen to Vendela Vida’s We Run The Tides first before Libby returns my audiobook loan.

Current obsession: spiiiieees (always); the cold brew I’ve been making lately with Cafe Du Monde grounds (highly recommend); the breakfast burritos I made this weekend; Tom Cruise saving cinema (why are the Oppenheimer folks so boring that they couldn’t play the game like Gerwig and Robbie?); Top Gun Maverick - still? forever? I keep waiting for it to leave my system and it simply won’t; mango season; trying to figure out which old HBO shows I finally need to watch before they get shipped off to Netflix (not the end of the world; it would just annoy me to watch an HBO thing not on an HBO platform) or yeeted to hell because David Zaslav is clearly just three kids stacked on top of each other under a trench coat.

No pressure tags: @earnmysong, @pearly--rose, @veronicafitzosborne, and anyone else who wants to do it!

[youofsomesong]

Friends Describing Starkid Characters (part 4)

(There will be spoiler pictures from Nerdy Prudes Must Die, so look at your own risk. They show up after Curt)

james

typical nerd

he has a letterman (i mean its in the photo)

this looks like the harry potter one (yup)

this information does not help me at all though (yes it does!!!)

gregory (front) and william (back) (noooooo)

they are in a relationship (oh 100%)

the gun in the underwear is for later tonight theyre spicing things up

(i have the better picture of peter, dont worry. but i wanna see if theyll realize its the same character)

montgomery

nerd but he knows your name, address, social security number, and credit card information and it not afraid to use it

megan

tired barista (SAME)

good at names and faces (not same) (same bestie)

knows martial arts

quincy francis iv

a cowboy with absolutely NO cowboy skills

saw a horse once and went “cow!!”

oh theyre also gay gay homosexual

nobody knows about their relationship though (well...)

elizabeth (left) and grace (right)

theyre into cosplay

businessman businessman businessman

slightly below average at his job but covers for it by being likeable and social (jfhkjasdhf thats not true)

his name is ronald

marco

theatre kid

rebecca

a proud trans woman who will take no shit

OH MY GOD WAIT

THATS UMBRIDGE ISNT IT (...maybe)

jafar (whats with my friends and thinking achmed is jafar???)

tried to sneak in an aladdin picture with the starkid. im onto you (youre not though cause thats achmed, not jafar)

bridget

likes reading

not very popular but a nice person

patricia

she has a pufferfish on her head

shes a strange one

still kind of popular though??

jasmine and jafar (this one im 87% certain) (youre half right bestie)

they pulled a switcheroo

that other one was aladdin and i was wrong (you were wrong but youre still wrong)

rachel

big fan of the little red riding hood story. made it her entire personality (jksdhfjdksh bestie)

thats a classic jack right there

total asshole (a bit, yeah)

sells drugs to minors (but he doesnt. he loves hannah like his own kid)

that previous guys brother but this ones a good person and keeps getting pulled into his brothers crap

his name is riley

definitely has pronouns

not straight (oh he 100% is not straight)

generally well liked but has one specific enemy (more like we love him but we hate him)

looks like a noah to me

self proclaimed “party animal” (everyone hates him except like one person whos pretty neutral about him) (lies. we all love him)

name is... liam (derogatory)

andrew garfield in disguise (askjfdhakjs)

thats all

“tall dark and handsome” (has platforms in his shoes)

daniel

NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE PHOTOS!!!! CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK

thats a whole zombie fr fr

name was revoked

but his name WOULD have been zachary

watched “the last of us” and liked it way too much

became his favorite character

straight man (derogatory) (kajfhasdhf i dont believe max is straight AT ALL)

the woman is bi (grace is repressed bi, what did i tell yall?)

her name is haley his name is michael

he needs to put his shirt back on (no he does not. he is hot)

goshdarn jessica

Mean Girl ™️ (i mean...mariah was regina george...she was in mean girls...)

manny

generalized anxiety disorder (if he wasnt first labeled as obnoxious teen i would say yes. but he did have that whole waiting for hot chocolate line(s). oh and xe did not connect that the petes were the same character. i did not tell them that either and idk if i will tell him)

MARKIPLIER?

thats it

dyed hair and pronouns

quinn

at this point in time i did tell them that nibbly and blinky were not female even though both are played by women (and the fact that i hc nibbly as agender)

thats a rowan

absolutely slays

also has pronouns

liked wreck it ralph

naruto fanboy

his name is blake but he asked people to call him by the name of his favorite character

(nobody does)

this one is a big fan of sonic

has a sonic themed backpack and lunchbox

morgan

jeremiah

i see an anime shirt hes an anime stan (well thats obvious)

has at least two twitter accounts dedicated to anime (honestly wouldnt be surprised)

[sighonaraa]

⚡️✨

✨ random spoiler?

you people love ur spoilers don't you.... (affectionate). here is another one from the mom city fix it!

rebecca and jamie have a discussion. it may or may not be eye-opening. it may or may not tie into themes of forgiveness and becoming a better person in spite of your abuser, rather than because of them. (because...hm. what an inch resting idea to put forth..... (derogatory)).

⚡️ which character is gonna get a rude awakening?

as much as i DO love his character.... ted. TED. he is going to get QUITE the rude awakening but in, like. a good way. bc i think he needs to be walloped in the face with some Hard Truths regarding jamie and james and the way he himself has handled that Situation for... literally the entire show.

thank you for the asks!! <3

for this ask game!

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

What's "sleuth and gumshoe" ❓❓❓

the problem with this one is that what i want to do with it is already way too ambitious. but really im rotating a few different ideas here--different "detective" archetypes (namely, ted as the "amateur detective/gentleman sleuth" and trent as the "private eye/noir detective/gumshoe") and their respective genres/the tone of their stories/worlds colliding (particularly at their overlap: murder) and like. trent the private eye, living in a gritty world where his character is defined by always ending up back where he started, always walking alone, being pulled forcefully into the gentleman sleuth's world where there are still dangers but perhaps it isn't quite so grim, not always. and like, it shows the cracks of both--ted's avoidance of confronting himself and his past, being allowed to through the grimmer bleeding of trent's world, being allowed to close that certain distance the gentleman sleuth tends to maintain, trent being able to have someone who loves him who doesn't die or betray him, no damsel or fatale, and like, breaking cycles and archetypes (why are so many of these wips involved with breaking cycles????? hm) and escaping what's expected of you and breaking the narrative but also like. aoughh i have too many things i want to do! too many! i mean even the workshopped summary is long, this shit reads like it would be a novel!!!

ted is the affable gentleman detective, trent the hard-boiled private eye, and ted softens him up and trent helps him open up and they both just. crack each other open and be vulnerable

there's some parts here i'm unsure about, or that are currently potentially their own whole thing (beard is in flux, also possibly has jane has his femme fatale (derogatory), rebecca and the adventure of rupert definitely dies, etc) but really i'm just. rotating this so hard. but there's so much i want to do that i never end up getting started!! i have a few books on these kinds of tropes in fiction and stuff i've been reading though which. is good and helpful.