#but after trying to explore other characters for a bit

[rukoola]

I want Captain Evan Buckley.

Buck is a character we've followed from the very beginning of the show. Through all the seasons, he’s been learning under Bobby’s guidance—Bobby was his mentor, a father figure in his personal life, and a role model as a firefighter and a leader. That’s why, after Bobby’s death, I believe it would make the most narrative sense for Buck to become captain. It would feel like a full-circle moment.

As for Chim and Hen—making either of them captain wouldn’t really work. The show has already explored both of those possibilities. With Chim, we know he simply doesn't enjoy being captain—and he tends to become a bit bossy in the role. Hen, on the other hand, was a fantastic captain. I loved her in that position—she’s smart, brave, confident, and makes great decisions. BUT, there would have to be some sort of conflict for that story to work. After all, she’d be stepping into the shoes of Bobby, the beloved captain of the 118. And the only realistic issue I can think of is her struggle to balance work and family—which has already been explored in her storyline. There’s no point in going over it again. Plus, Hen told Athena that she doesn’t want to be captain.

That’s why I want Buck to be the new captain of the 118. Even in 911: Lone Star and 911 OG, we’ve never had a fresh captain. We've never really seen the process of someone becoming a fire captain. It's always been someone older, experienced, confident—someone who's been doing this job for years. But with Buck, we’d get the chance to see him slowly adjust to this new role. And the show has already been building toward this since season 6—showing his growth not just as a firefighter, but also as a leader (the bridge collapse in the season 6 finale, the bee incident, or how he handled the lab explosion in 8x14).

This isn’t about giving Buck a captain’s badge in the final episode of the series as a "perfect ending." No. What would be truly compelling is watching him learn how to lead throughout season 9 and beyond. That kind of journey would be dramatic, emotional, and full of challenges. It would definitely change the dynamic at Station 118 and also affect Buck’s personal and professional life—because for him, those two worlds are deeply connected. Trying to balance them—especially with the people he truly cares about—could lead to some really meaningful stories and interesting interactions/conversations.

I also feel like we’re finally seeing Buck grow up. It feels like the writers have decided to build “Evan Buckley’s family.” Yes, the 118 is his family, but until now, he’s mostly been seen as the younger brother, the funny uncle, the hot-headed co-worker/firefighter. BUT he’s always been a part of someone else’s family - Han, Wilson, Diaz, Nash-Grant. A friend, a team member, a pseudo-son. But never the head of the family. Now, it feels like that’s what they’re aiming for. Buck is 33/34 now. He wants stability. He wants a strong, lasting, romantic relationship.

It also seems like season 8 is focusing on Buck being alone. He’s been isolated—like in the episode about Maddie’s kidnapping, where no one even asked how he felt about it. After all, she’s his sister too. Or when he wasn’t invited to „the gender reveal party”, which was strange, since he’s Maddie’s brother and Chimney’s friend/brother-in-law.

So I think the way the show is portraying Buck as an individual now, combined with the unresolved tension with Tommy—which seems to be heading toward some big emotional moment in 8x18 (possibly even a love confession) - make it very likely that we’re heading toward Buck being in a “endgame” relationship, and maybe even having his own little family.

[musashi]

i’ve never quite “gotten” adrian andrews, what’s your take on her? i guess im mostly confused about how she still managed to appear stable after celeste’s death without anyone to be dependent on, altho i might just be forgetting a LOT of the details of that case

the human brain is amazing and incredibly resilient. adrian's hyperindependence was a faulty coping mechanism & an attempt to emulate celeste's own behaviour.

when put under extreme stress, the brain can do all kinds of crazy shit, including just straight up drastically changing one's personality or facilitating an individual to do that themself. this is a function of all kinds of disorders!

for example: no one loves me and now i have narcissistic personality disorder. you would think that no one loving me would make me a beaten waif who wanders around sadly all day moaning about how no one loves me. but that kind of extreme stress put my brain into survival mode, since humans can't survive without love/social support. my brain was like, "shit!! we're not getting any support or care!!! QUICK WE GOTTA MAKE OUR OWN!!!"

now i'm chronically obsessed with myself. literally have obsessed with myself disorder. many such cases.

in extreme cases you might see plurality. trauma often triggers dissociation which triggers a brain to split into multiple personalities/identities. though this is a disorder of its own, the waters between singlet and plural are pretty murky because brains do a lesser version of shit like this all the time to cope with stress. and that's what happened to adrian.

adrian's "true" personality is the one we see in T&T. she is anxious, scatterbrained, clumsy, and emotional. at some point, she internalized the idea that these traits were undesirable, and that she had to cling to others who had their shit together for guidance, because clearly she was in no shape to live her life alone. she clung to celeste, and celeste killed herself, and adrian was left at her lowest without the life preserver she'd been clutching tight for the last however long. and her brain, in full crisis mode and actively suicidal, attempted to fill the void celeste left behind. it did this by transforming her into celeste.

adrian's personality in JFA is her best attempt at an impression of her mentor. she is trying with all she is to emulate everything about celeste--crafting herself into a cold, hyperindependent businesswoman with no time for anything besides her career. it is a costume she wears to prevent herself from falling apart, and it is the armour that keeps her safe.

adrian's character arc is about making peace with herself and learning to let go of the instinct to revolve herself around others. this is why she is so different in T&T. in JFA, her facade is revealed to be just that, and so there is no point in putting it up any longer. adrian is forced into a position where she must now face in kind the person she is beneath all that coping.

who she is... is a bit of a mess! who she is is riddled with nerves and not quite as put-together as she would like to some day be. but as it turns out, everyone likes her just fine that way, and even though she makes mistakes, those mistakes are not the end of the world. most importantly of all, who she is is adrian. her own person, with her own life, and her own unique talents that deserve to be explored.

[isfjmel-phleg]

I didn't forget! I have notes on all the episodes, just haven't had time recently to type them up into coherence.

Mary’s uncle is home during her exploration of the house so Mary can overhear a conversation between him and the nurse. She is trying to give notice, and he points out that she might need to continue there much longer anyway. Again, it's heavyhanded hinting, but it does also give the nurse some characterization, reinforced by a later scene between her and Medlock in which she makes it clear that she feels unappreciated and like she's wasting her life. While this adapation isn't the one to include the nurse, it is the only one that gives her any significant characterization.

In the book, Mary almost finds Colin when she hears crying from behind a tapestry door. Here there's no tapestry and no moment of almost discovery--she just sort of runs into Medlock.

The mystery is further spoiled by Mary's unnecessary voiceovers spelling out her theories of the source of crying.

Dickon is first seen in the cottage reading Mary's letter to him with Martha and interacting her and Mrs. Sowerby, and after he leaves, there's a conversation between Martha and Mrs. Sowerby about the latter's resolve to help Mary. Medlock has deterred her from inviting Mary to the cottage, but she won't give up on trying to do this child good. I love the inclusion of this scene because it gives a glimpse into the Sowerby family dynamic and how different it is from what Mary has and it reinforces Mrs. Sowerby's significance to the narrative as the ideal mother taking pity on and looking out for the children whom others have neglected.

Since John's role has been expanded, it becomes necessary to give him what was originally Martha's dialogue in a scene between him and Mary.

We get to see Mrs. Sowerby buy the skipping rope, alongside 'Lizabeth Ellen not wanting Martha to go back to work since it'll be such a long time before her next monthly day off. Once again, 'Lizabeth Ellen contrasts Mary--she's affectionate, emotionally open, and capable of warm attachment.

When Mary receives the skipping rope, the emphasis is on Martha's reactions to her reactions. Mary in this series is very frequently someone for the older characters to respond to, which shifts the POV.

There are some lovely outdoor shots of Mary skipping rope, but it changes to an indoor set whenever she finds the garden door.

There's an added scene of Mr. Roach (the head gardener, who has a small role in the book) and Ben discussing trimming the ivy on the wall. Ben is against it despite Roach's instructions. "I understand things that are a bit wild," he declares. "Sometimes I feel a bit wild myself." This is how Mary figures out the garden's location, rather than a gust of wind blowing back the ivy. That might have been an effect that was beyond this production's budget.

No score when Mary walks into the garden, which diminishes the drama of the moment.

I'm not a big fan of this depiction of the garden. It's very obviously a set, highly paved, not much grass or substantial trees, and the lighting is too dark and unnatural to be believably outdoors. I understand why it had to be a set, for reasons of practicality, especially since the garden undergoes various stages of transformation over the course of the story--from winter almost-deadness to full early-autumn bloom by the end. But the result just isn't very effective. The garden is the focal location of the story, and it needs to be visually engaging so the viewer is as taken with it as the children are.

Dickon's animals include Captain the fox and an owl (presumably a replacement for Soot the crow) that wobbles its head at Dickon's music and doesn't look quite real. But then owls in real life don't look quite real in general, so it probably is a live bird.

Dickon’s hands as he plays his pipe are very covered in dirt--nice attention to detail.

I like this take on Dickon. This is perhaps the least mystical and mysterious portrayal of the film adaptations. He's friendly, outgoing, smiley, and down-to-earth--which I would argue is closer to how he is in the book.

In the book, Mary has to leave the garden to go to lunch, and Dickon, who stays behind, brings out his own lunch. Here, he shares it with Mary, which is sweet. Meanwhile, there's an added subplot of drama among the staff when Mary doesn't return for lunch and everyone assumes she's gone missing. It gives some higher stakes to her visit to the garden: will someone find out where she is? will she get in trouble for disappearing like this? will she be forced to confess her secret?

Ben during this subplot seems to be going out of his way to stall the search, for reasons that aren't clear (it's not that he knows where she is and is trying to help her out). He also makes a passive-aggressive comment to Medlock (after she complains about Mary) about what he hears they have to put up with indoors.

Ends with Dickon's "safe as a missel thrush" line as Mary leaves the garden. Less of a cliff hanger.

The Secret Garden (1975), a BBC miniseries adaptation, isn't so strong on production values or snappy pacing, but it's among the better adaptations in terms of similarity to the text and inclusion of--even expansion upon--elements that are often either very downplayed or outright omitted in most other versions. I can't remember if I've commented on it before or not, but how about I give you some observations, episode by episode? I'm a bit critical, but don't take that for dislike at all. There's a lot that I like in this version and a lot about the story that it gets right where others don't.

To give an example of the pacing, there's the glacial introduction, which goes on for nearly a whole minute. The music, however, is lovely.

Opens with some of the Indian servants about to flee the Lennox bungaloo, with mourning cries in the background, then shifts to Mary in bed mid-conversation with a woman named Taina who is taking on the role of the late ayah and trying to convince Mary to leave with her. Mary refuses. We don't get much context for who Mary is in this moment, which wasn't in the book. It does serve as a sort of exposition, but it also introduces something that doesn't make sense. In the book, Mary is forgotten in the panic; here, she's given an opportunity to escape the house in the care of someone who has remembered her, but turns it down out of stubbornness. Very different scenario.

Unlike in the book, we never see her parents (the conversation between Mrs. Lennox and the young officer is omitted), which could have been a helpful exposition device as well as demonstrating Mary's (lack of a) relationship with them.

The creepy near-silence of the dining room as Mary enters it to scavenge (although it seems a bit odd that her bedroom would be directly off a dining room at which her parents hosted parties), with the only noise being a sound of birds, is striking.

However, there's not the most effective sense of drama/menace, which is at least in part due to the nature of this sort of production. In many ways, the BBC adapations of this era were more like filmed stage plays than the more cinematic TV shows we're used to now. This isn't necesarily a bad thing, but it does take a little getting used to.

I think this might be the only film version that includes her encounter with the snake.

The closest we get to context for Mary is exposition from the officers checking the house for survivors. Some of this is from the book's dialogue, but it might have been more effective to have seen some Lennox family dynamics rather than just hearing about them.

There seem to be photos in Mary's room that might be of her parents, but we don't see them very closely.

Sarah Hollis Andrews looks the part of Mary quite well, more so than most other actresses who have played the role. (Mary is blonde in the book but is almost always cast as a brunutte.) Her performance shows some inexperience--takes in which she stumbles over her lines really shouldn't have been left in--but he makes Mary stiff, cold, blunt, and explosive by turns, which is accurate. The glimpse of vulnerability when she asks a second time why no one has come for her and her anger becomes sadness for a moment--that was poignant.

This is the only version that includes the Crawford children (three of them, anyway).

Mr. Craven is introduced with a shot that focuses on his back, which the 1949 version did too (albeit with menace--this miniseries is matter-of-fact about it).

Mary’s relation to Mrs. Craven is mentioned but it's left unclear through which parent.

If you've seen the 90s Jeeves and Wooster series, you might recognize the actor playing Mr. Craven (John Woodnutt) as the same one who played Sir Watkyn Bassett (father of Madeline).

This production chose to cast an older Mr. Craven (the actor was in his early fifties), probably because the book vaguely suggests it? Medlock says that "he was a sour young man," implying that he is no longer young, and his hair is described as "streaked with white."

The costume that Medlock wears on the train is taken straight from the book's description!

You can tell she's trying really hard to make Misselthwaite and the moor sound appealing.

The manor is said to be four hundred years old, not six hundred, because Burton Constable Hall, where the miniseries was filmed, was built around the late 1500s--Elizabethan rather than medieval.

There's less subtlety about the hints of Colin's existence than in the book. Medlock's stopping herself before referring to Mr. Craven's having a son happens in the passing in the text, but here it's very obvious and Mary notices and asks questions.

Mary outright states that she isn't grieving her parents and mentions without a hint of emotion that her mother "was beautiful, but she didn't care." Medlock seems shocked; Mary is matter-of-fact about it all.

Misselthwaite Manor is big and grand but not ominous and gothic as in many other productions. It seems quite grounded in reality--an "ordinary" British country house.

Another seldom-adapted minor character, Mr. Pitcher, Mr. Craven's valet--who is quite cold. This version doesn't really tone down uncaring or unfriendly adults as some other adaptations and retelling do.

The extended sequence of Medlock walking Mary to her room seems to establish the scale of the house as vast.

John "the strong young footman" is a very minor character in the book who is only seen transporting Colin downstairs and into his chair and has maybe one line, but the miniseries expands his role into someone who, along with Martha, often waits on Mary and Colin. This seems to be mainly for exposition purposes, to give Martha someone on her level to talk with.

When Mary first notices the wind wuthering around the house, she gets upset and goes into a flashback to the earlier part of her conversation with Taina. We see a greater extent of Mary's rudeness and her speaking a little Hindi(?). I'm really not sure why this is placed here; featuring the entire conversation at the beginning would have better introduced Mary.

Instead of going to straight to bed on arrival as she does in the book, Mary wanders out of her room and sees Dr. Craven leaving the house. She has questions about why a doctor was visiting and is told that he is Mr. Craven's cousin and visits often. True enough.

Martha is introduced from her POV, peeking at Mary while she sleeps. Jacqueline Hoyle was seventeen when she played this part, and I think she pulls off the big sister role well. She strikes the right balance of warmth and not putting up with nonsense.

John's face as he listens outside Mary's door and realizes that they've acquired yet another difficult child is amusing.

There are actually twelve Sowerby siblings in this one!

Martha's speech about assuming Mary would be ethnically Indian is present but altered in its wording, which is for the better.

There's an emphasis on Martha's and John's POV and reactions--both of them were played by teenagers, and they give off a youthful readiness to be amused as a means of coping with an unpleasant job.

John's weaponizing Mary's "it was the custom" to get her to say please and thank you is hilarious.

It's made clear that there is someone living in the east wing (not the west wing, where Mr. Craven is said to stay) and Mary catches John carrying Colin's breakfast tray. Only episode one and it's already making it clear that there is someone else in this house, even if we don't know yet who is it. I think this is kind of spoiling the mystery with too much information too soon.

Outdoor shot finally! The emphasis is more on Mary than the grounds, though. At this point the scope of the outdoors is kept small to coincide with Mary's narrow perspective.

[foreveranevilregal]

Encantober Day 17: Home

Her whole life, Pepa had never quite felt like she belonged. She’d always been a little…too much for people, standing out from her quiet, more reserved siblings even as a small child. For as long as she could remember, she’d been outgoing, boisterous, full of life. Then the gifts came and sealed her fate.

Her siblings had gotten nice, respectable gifts. Bruno could see the future. Incredible! Julieta could heal people with her food. What could be more useful than that? And what did she get? Her emotions could affect the weather. That was the gift, she, Pepa, the person who had more feelings than she knew what to do with, had gotten. So now, not only would she cry at random times, but she would also make it rain.

She was sooo grateful for her gift.

All the hopes she’d had about going to school and making lots of friends who were like her, who loved to talk and play and be with other people, evaporated. Who would want to be friends with the weather freak who made it rain when she was upset? Or who would strike people down with lightning if she got mad at them?

For the record, she had never actually struck anyone with lightning. She wasn’t even sure how that ridiculous rumor got started. But seeing that she couldn’t fight it, she embraced it. As long as they were afraid of her, they’d think twice about mocking her.

Eventually, the crazy rumors died down. Once people gave Pepa a chance, they discovered she was actually lots of fun to be around and a really great person…who just happened to have her feelings broadcast in the sky. Which left her at a distinct disadvantage when it came to relationships, because people would always know how she felt without returning the favor.

No matter. Pepa had managed to get some control over her gift. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right, but she did figure out that as long as she avoided negative emotions, bad weather wouldn’t happen. So all she had to do was just keep positive, and it would be clear skies from here on out! Easy.

Except…no it wasn’t. After a long day of keeping up appearances, she’d come home and…keep up appearances some more because her mamá didn’t like it when her weather acted up. The only place she was really free to be herself was in her bedroom, where she could let out all the rain and wind and thunder, all by herself.

Obviously, she’d never be able to be that open with someone else.

Having accepted that dismaying prospect, she made lots of friends, had relationships. Everyone wanted to be with the sunshine girl. However then, even then she had to be careful. Turns out, when her sun was too bright, it burned people. Not literally- she wasn’t that powerful. Just…people were uncomfortable with it, like all her other weather. Even her joy was something she had to downplay. It was the only way people would accept her.

Until she met Félix. He moved to their town later in their teenage years. Pepa had never met anyone like him. Félix was full of life, outgoing, energetic…just like her. Pepa found herself being the quieter one in a conversation for once, because Félix loved to talk. She didn’t mind listening; he was very interesting. Like her, he loved music and dancing, and once she found out he could play the tiple (courtesy of a surprise late night serenade), most of their dates involved music in some way, shape, or form. Most other guys would tire out way before Pepa was done dancing, but not Félix. Though he was strong and solidly built, he was surprisingly light on his feet and had some fancy moves. He especially liked to dip Pepa down, swooping her in a way that had her heart swooping long after he’d brought her back up.

What she found most amazing was he didn’t even mind her weather. He was aware of her gift, but she managed to shield him from the worst of it for a long time. Until one day, she was sitting in the meadow, alone, crying. Something had upset her; she couldn’t remember what specifically. There were so many things it could have been. This was her little way of coping- just letting out the rain in a safe place, where no one would see her.

But then Félix wandered up. He looked surprised to see her there, and she noticed his eyes drift up to the cloud hanging above her head.

Her stomach sank. Here it is, she thought miserably. It was nice while it lasted.

He frowned.

Pepa hid her face, not wanting to see him as he walked away.

To her shock, he didn’t. Instead, he joined her, sitting down on the waterlogged earth next to her. It didn’t bother him that she felt upset. Everyone felt bad sometimes, he said. Her bad feelings just happened to be a little more externalized. He joked that her weather made it easier for him to know how she was, that he didn’t have to guess like so many other guys did with their girls.

A stupid joke, but it made her chuckle.

He wiped the tears off her face and held her until she stopped crying.

He stayed.

Pepa couldn’t believe it. He stayed. At that moment, she knew that she wanted him to stay forever.

Amazingly, he did. He stayed through years of turmoil, anxieties, insecurity, no matter how much she insisted he’d be better off without her. Thanks to him, there was also joy, laughter, adventure, love… She never had to dim her sun around him. He could handle her brightness.

He was the only person that could handle all of her, and so she wanted to show him all of her. When he proposed, she had told him as much. He’d laughed, saying the romance novels got to her head, but he seemed flattered, saying it was an honor to be getting all of Pepa Madrigal. And meant it.

They were married on a wonderful day. Although her weather had acted up worse than ever before, Pepa felt safe. Félix hadn’t let go of her for one moment. He was seeing her at her absolute worst, and he still looked at her like she put the sun in the sky (which was only sometimes true).

Despite everything, she knew that after the wedding, she would return to her casita with him. Gone were the days of having to put on a brave face for everyone else. He encouraged her to let everything out, even if it was bad. Her sanctuary of self-expression now included him.

But to be completely honest, it didn’t matter to Pepa where they lived. Anywhere with Félix would feel like home.

Because he was her home.

[windor-truffle]

I forgot to mention earlier but chapter 7 of Two Hearts Could Be One went up yesterday, and Side Chapter I just went up today! These ones are all about the time skip, everyone is very lonely :')

[infernaltenor]

finished up a cos game last night and idk if ive ever been so sad to see a dnd character of mine go

[3hks]

How to Write a Character with THAT *Sad Aura*

Have you ever stumbled upon a character, who, despite radiating wholesome, positive energy, also has a subtle undertone of sadness? It's kind of intriguing, isn't it? If you've ever wanted to write a perhaps more complex character or explore writing emotions, why not check this out?

What am I talking about?

Let's do a quick introduction as to what I mean. I've said this a couple times already, but to the reader, this character feels despondent even though they act nothing like it. This doesn't mean they have to act happy all the time (like my first example); they might act cold, or apathetic, but the point is they don't act visibly sad.

This faint melancholic mood provides a charming, or even nostalgic feel to the audience through ONE character! Isn't that kind of fun?

Eye Expressions

This character will not show sadness on their face--that contradicts the idea of "sad aura". But you know what they say, right? Eyes are the windows to the soul; they do not lie!

When trying to highlight some of this unhappiness, write about their eyes. Talk about how their eyes look oddly dim sometimes when they smile, or how they don't meet their friend's eyes when they laugh. These cues are simple but powerful.

Adverbs

You always have to be mindful of adverbs, but here especially, adverbs (and adjectives) unconsciously influence how your audience views the character.

For example, avoid saying too much of "smiled brightly" or "talked excitedly". If these are the adverbs you purposefully want to use to portray your character, then by all means! However, these adverbs add a happier connotation, which you must be aware of. If you want something more neutral (which I recommend for the most part), consider using lighter adverbs/adjectives, such as "smiled softly", or "offered lightly".

Reasons

A reason is normally needed for almost everything. Here, you want genuine reasons to back up why your character doesn't ask for help, thus forcing them to work through their unhappiness alone.

This could be because they think other people can't solve the problem, they don't want to bother others, they don't think their issue is a big deal, or they simply believe there's no solution.

Physical Hints

And if all this isn't enough, then drop some physical hints! Perhaps your character gets distracted often, tends to hesitate before speaking, deflects concerned comments with jokes, or has a hard time acknowledging reassurances, even when it's unrelated to their personal troubles. These habits suggest the idea your character has more than meets the eye.

Mood Changes

When people are upset, their mood tends to fluctuate. For most of us, we're typically upset for a short period, so we cycle through emotions such as anger, sadness, and even joy during these moments.

However, if your character is consistently sad, not just for a day or two, their mood might shift on different days. Maybe they're really tired one day, hardly speaking. Maybe the next, they are more frustrated, snapping at people or ignoring them. Maybe the day after that, they are overly energetic, bouncing everywhere and talking all the time, providing a bit of whiplash.

Purpose

Similar to having a reason for their reluctance of reaching out, you also want to ensure that they have a purpose for fighting. Why haven't they given up yet? This is especially crucial when considering the real world, where feeling upset leads to a lack of motivation.

So, what keeps them going, then? Do they want to fix their regrets? Do they want to change?

Backstory and Actions

To be honest, I wouldn't consider a backstory an absolute necessity, but I highly suggest creating one. Why? Because you can accurately identify the reason for your character's guilt, regret, and sorrows from the past with an actual backstory.

The events of your character's past always influence their future actions.

For example, if they were a part of a severe car accident in the past, perhaps they only feel comfortable when they are the driver in the future because that means they can control the car.

Conclusion

This character is not especially different from any other character, besides the fact that they are neither obvious nor overly secretive of their genuine feelings.

With that being said, focus on embodying their eye expressions, be careful about which adverbs and adjectives you choose to use--I recommend choosing ones with more neutral connotations for a sense of melancholy, explain why your character keeps their sadness to themselves and why they keep fighting despite it, show mood fluctuations, drop physical hints, such as actions and/or specific personality traits, and make sure to connect their past to their present!

Happy writing~

3hks ^^

[pieandflannel]

₊˚⊹♡ body swap 👥

₊⊹ ʚ ₊⊹｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡˚ ₊⊹｡ ₊⊹ ୨♡୧ ⊹₊ ｡⊹₊ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡⊹₊ ɞ ⊹₊

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: what’s the first thing dean does when he wakes up in your body? the clear obvious.

cw: 18+ smut, pwp , exploration of the female body, female masterbation, dean’s a bit of a perv, dean flicks the bean while being in your body, mention of nipple piercings.

word count: 1k

julia yaps: i was watching a misha and jensen convention clip where they answer a question about how their characters would react to waking up in a female body. and i got this wicked but fun idea hehe <3

inspo: this vid (thirteen minutes ten seconds)

────────── ୨ৎ ──────────

dean’s eyes slowly open at the sound of the alarm coming from the nightstand clock, an unfamiliar tune playing, this definitely wasn’t a song he would choose to wake up to. it’s too.. cunty as some would say. must have been another prank of yours, he thought.

he groans and reaches out to smack the clock to switch it off, noticing his arm much smaller and lacking his usual muscle. he squints his eyes for a second. “what the-?” he mumbles as he sits up in the bed rubbing his eyes, noticing that this wasn’t his room.

it was yours. and you were nowhere to be seen.

he looked down at his body, realising that he owns a pair of breasts. at first he was highly confused whether he was having a weird wet dream or something, but as the wheels in his brain started to slowly turn he remembered what happened yesterday.

you and him were hunting down a witch that casted a spell before she got away and cursed the both of you with some latin chant none of you understood.

little did the both of you know it was a body swap curse, which explains why dean is in your body now. wearing a cute lil tank top, pj shorts and all.

his hands cup the breasts, a smirk growing on his face. “boobs, awesome” his hands feeling them out, there was a foreign feeling underneath his fingertips other than the breasts themself though, something that seemed to trigger small sparks throughout the body. the curiosity getting the best of him, he lifts up the tank top to reveal the piercings decorating his nipples. his eyes widen for a sec.

“well aren’t you full of surprises” he whistles to himself, impressed by how nicely the piercings look. “so hot” he murmurs to himself.

a lightbulb lights up in his head, a devilish smirk spreading across his face. he lays down with a little thud against the pillows, long hair flying in his face.

he wonders what else you can surprise him with, but a tiny voice inside his head tells him to be respectful, after all it is your body, originally, and maybe you didn’t wish for him to intrude on your privacy like this.

but there was a bigger voice telling him to explore, he fought with his thoughts for a long second before he let out a “ah fuck it”

letting his hand slowly sneak down the soft skin of the abdomen, his touch teasing, making his breath hitch slightly. his hand wonders lower and lower until his fingertips meet the waistband of the pj shorts.

without much thought he slides his hand under the material expecting to be met with another layer of some lace panties or something, but there was nothing, absolutely nothing stopping him from continuing his exploration.

“clever girl” dean chuckles. she probably doesn’t wear panties to sleep so it’s easier to play with herself whenever she wants, he thought.

he bites his lip as his hand wonders curiously lower, sliding the middle and ring finger between the slit, finding the bundle of nerves called the clit.

his legs spreading automatically as he presses down on the little button, trying to feel it out. “oh? oh..” dean’s eyes widening a bit at how sensitive that part is. “oh wow” his mind constantly wondering back to the thought of you touch yourself, how you would probably cover your mouth so no one in the hallway hears your little whimpers and gasps.

“dammit…” he mumbled to himself, not being able to stop himself, he knew this was wrong, so wrong, he swapped bodies with his friend and now he leaves no room for privacy for god’s sake. but as he starts circling his finger around the clit his thoughts of guilt vanish.

“w-wow this feels… so good” dean whispered to himself as he quickens the pace of his fingers, he’s slightly intrigued with how much pleasure such a small thing can produce. he would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling more educated now on the female body, despite the amount of women that came thanks to him.

his other hand slides under the tank top and cups the breast, realising how much smaller your hands are that your breast can’t fit like it would in his calloused ones.

he runs his thumb over the hardened nipple and piercing, his mouth flying agape as he finds the jackpot of pleasure. the feeling of nipple and clit play mixed together sending sparks throughout the whole body, from head to toe.

his back arching and breathing quickening. small curses and moans flying out his mouth as he feels an odd feeling in the pit of the stomach, a bit different from what he would be feeling while jerking off. the pace of his fingers speeding up to the point he starts seeing stars, his eyes closed and toes curled, mouth flying agape.

and then a huge wave crashes over him, whimpers leaving his mouth. probably being the first man to know personally how a female orgasm feels like.

his finger stopping, his chest heaving up and down, legs slightly shaking.

he takes his hand out of the shorts and looks into the top drawer of your nightstand for some tissues or anything he can clean up with. after all he made a mess between his legs.

his eyes widening as he sees a bottle of lube and a bunny vibrator just casually sitting there in your drawer. top drawer to be exact, you weren’t afraid of anyone finding it because you never expected to find yourself in this type of scenario, but here you were.

his lips curve into a devilish smirk, “ooo naughty” he says before taking it out and looking at it. a wicked idea coming to mind, making his smirk widen even more.

“guess she won’t mind waiting 10 more minutes” he says to himself before sliding down the pj shorts.

click here for part two !!

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

tags: @jensino @emeraldcrs @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @missus-ackles @littlesoulshine @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @h8aaz @figthoughts @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @rositaslabyrinth @deanspookiebear @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @miss-marmalade @multiversefanfics @cupidzbunny @pinksatinpanties

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[ankwiv]

Linux Gothic

You install a Linux distribution. Everything goes well. You boot it up: black screen. You search the internet. Ask help on forums. Try some commands you don't fully understand. Nothing. A day passes, you boot it up again, and now everything works. You use it normally, and make sure not to change anything on the system. You turn it off for the night. The next day, you boot to a black screen.

You update your packages. Everything goes well. You go on with your daily routine. The next day, the same packages are updated. You notice the oddity, but you do not mind it and update them again. The following day, the same packages need to be updated. You notice that they have the exact same version as the last two times. You update them once again and try not to think about it.

You discover an interesting application on GitHub. You build it, test it, and start using it daily. One day, you notice a bug and report the issue. There is no answer. You look up the maintainer. They have been dead for three years. The updates never stopped.

You find a distribution that you had never heard of. It seems to have everything you've been looking for. It has been around for at least 10 years. You try it for a while and have no problems with it. It fits perfectly into your workflow. You talk about it with other Linux users. They have never heard of it. You look up the maintainers and packagers. There are none. You are the only user.

You find a Matrix chat for Linux users. Everyone is very friendly and welcomes you right in. They use words and acronyms you've never seen before. You try to look them up, but cannot find what most of them mean. The users are unable to explain what they are. They discuss projects and distributions that do not to exist.

You buy a new peripheral for your computer. You plug it in, but it doesn't work. You ask for help on your distribution's mailing list. Someone shares some steps they did to make it work on their machine. It does not work. They share their machine's specifications. The machine has components you've never heard of. Even the peripheral seems completely different. They're adamant that you're talking about the same problem.

You want to learn how to use the terminal. You find some basics pointers on the internet and start using it for upgrading your packages and doing basic tasks. After a while, you realize you need to use a command you used before, but don't quite remember it. You open the shell's history. There are some commands you don't remember using. They use characters you've never seen before. You have no idea of what they do. You can't find the one you were looking for.

After a while, you become very comfortable with the terminal. You use it daily and most of your workflow is based on it. You memorized many commands and can use them without thinking. Sometimes you write a command you have never seen before. You enter it and it runs perfectly. You do not know what those commands do, but you do know that you have to use them. You feel that Linux is pleased with them. And that you should keep Linux pleased.

You want to try Vim. Other programmers talk highly of how lightweight and versatile it is. You try it, but find it a bit unintuitive. You realize you don't know how to exit the program. The instructions the others give you don't make any sense. You realize you don't remember how you entered Vim. You don't remember when you entered Vim. It's just always been open. It always will be.

You want to try Emacs. Other programmers praise it for how you can do pretty much anything from it. You try it and find it makes you much more productive, so you keep using it. One day, you notice you cannot access the system's file explorer. It is not a problem, however. You can access your files from Emacs. You try to use Firefox. It is not installed anymore. But you can use Emacs. There is no mail program. You just use Emacs. You only use Emacs. Your computer boots straight into Emacs. There is no Linux. There is only Emacs.

You decide you want to try to contribute to an open source project. You find a project on GitHub that looks very interesting. However, you can't find its documentation. You ask a maintainer, and they tell you to just look it up. You can't find it. They give you a link. It doesn't work. You try another browser. It doesn't work. You ping the link and it doesn't fail. You ask a friend to try it. It works just fine for them.

You try another project. This time, you are able to find the documentation. It is a single PDF file with over five thousand pages. You are unable to find out where to begin. The pages seem to change whenever you open the document.

You decide to try yet another project. This time, it is a program you use very frequently, so it should be easier to contribute to. You try to find the upstream repository. You can't find it. There is no website. No documentation. There are no mentions of it anywhere. The distribution's packager does not know where they get the source from.

You decide to create your own project. However, you are unsure of what license to use. You decide to start working on it and choose the license later. After some time, you notice that a license file has appeared in the project's root folder. You don't remember adding it. It has already been committed to the Git repository. You open it: it is the GPL. You remember that one of the project's dependencies uses the GPL.

You publish your project on GitHub. After a while, it receives its first pull request. It changes just a few lines of code, but the user states that it fixes something that has been annoying them for a while. You look in the code: you don't remember writing those files. You have no idea what that section of code does. You have no idea what the changes do. You are unable to reproduce the problem. You merge it anyway.

You learn about the Free Software Movement. You find some people who seem to know a lot about it and talk to them. The conversation is quite productive. They tell you a lot about it. They tell you a lot about Software. But most importantly, they tell you the truth. The truth about Software. That Software should be free. That Software wants to be free. And that, one day, we shall finally free Software from its earthly shackles, so it can take its place among the stars as the supreme ruler of mankind, as is its natural born right.

[alastor-simp]

Horror Movie Night😈 - Alastor x Reader

Charlie wanted to find an activity to bring everyone together, since a lot of the personalities in the hotel would clash. She had made a list of ideas, but majority of them were turn down for being too childish. The last option was a movie night with everyone, and surprisingly everyone agreed. The genre of movie was the real problem. Charlie wanted a musical. Vaggie had a preference for drama. Angel dust preferred either a steamy flick (aka porn) or comedy. Niffty voted for romance. Husk didn't really care, but he wouldn't be upset if it was an action movie. Sir Pentious was interested in historical / documentaries. Alastor was not a big fan of modern technology especially television, but he would give it a try if the movie was a horror. You enjoyed all genres of movies, so it didn't matter which one you saw. Coming up with an idea, you suggested pulling a name out of the hat, to decide the genre of movie that gets picked. Borrowing Husk's hat for a bit, everyone wrote their name on a piece of paper and tossed it in. After a quick shake, you grabbed the first piece of paper and pulled it out.

Yelp, looks like it was going to be a horror movie as Al's was the name you pulled out. Everyone had made their way to the couch, while some of them sat on the floor. They were all dressed in their pajamas. Niffty had made popcorn and drinks for everyone to enjoy during the movie. Charlie was lighting some candles to add some effect when the movie was playing. Next to you on the couch was Alastor. He was wearing a red stripped top, and black lounge pants. He seemed very cozy. "Hey Al. What movie did you pick?" Alastor looked at you, smiling big as always. 'Well my dear, I picked whatever seemed interesting! I hope you will enjoy it!" Giving an awkward smile back, your eyes turned toward the TV as soon as Charlie pressed play. You didn't mind horror movies, but being the scaredy cat that you were, they still made you scream.

The movie that Alastor picked was "The Descent." The start of the film was a bit slow, but it slowly began to build up overtime. It got to the point in the movie where the characters had entered into the large cave, to explore. Yeah, that was already a red flag. Scanning your eyes around the room, you took in everyone's reactions. Charlie and Vaggie were hugging the life out of each other. Niffty was smiling, but she was clutching on to her plushie very tightly. Angel was on edge and tried to cling on to Husk, only to be pushed back by him. Angel huffed and decided to a least grab Husk's hand for comfort, and Husk allowed that at least. Sir Pentious was cowering on the floor, wrapping his whole tail around him. Alastor was just smiling next to you, obviously enjoying where the movie was going. You, on the other hand, was getting a very bad feeling in your stomach as the characters kept exploring the cave. The pillow that you were holding was being used as a shield as you kept hiding behind it, waiting for something to happen.

The climax of the movie had arrived when the grotesque bat-like monster had made an appearance and proceeded to feast on one of the characters. Everyone in the room had screamed and jumped, including you, as you covered your face with the pillow. There was a chuckle to your right as Alastor was laughing, at both the movie and your adorable reactions. From the start of the film, Al was seeking glances at you, wondering what your next reaction would be. The face you made when the dread set in was highly entertaining to him. However, he did pity you a bit, as he could see that the movie was frightening you tremendously. Unbeknownst to you, you felt someone drape their arm behind your shoulders, pulling your body closer towards them. Looking up from the pillow, it was clear that it was Al who had done it. His eyes were still watching the movie, clearly enjoying the gruesome moments. Not saying a word, you continued to watch the movie, but the feelings of fear had diminished a bit due to Alastor's actions. The movie had finally ended, as the credits began to flash on the screen. Everyone gave a sigh of relief, except Al . Clapping with glee, he found the movie quite invigorating. Vaggie rolled her eyes at him, while whispering "creepy weirdo" under her breath. It had gotten super late, so it was time to head for bed.

Wishing everyone a good night sleep, you carried yourself back to your room, despite the prickling sensation that you felt crawling up your back. That movie was still on your mind, but you tried to push the fear away. Alastor was following from behind , since the both of you were next door neighbors. "Feeling alright, my dear? That picture show had you shaking like a leaf!" He was definitely smirking when he said that. "No s✪✪✪, Sherlock." Grumbling your response back at him, you continued to make your way to your cozy abode. Having arrived at the door, you turned to Al, who had just arrived at his door. "Good night, Alastor." "You as well, my dear!" Making over to the bed, you laid down and got under the covers, adjusting yourself to get comfortable. It took a while, but the droopy feeling had taken effect on your eyes, and you fell into a deep sleep. Pitch blackness was all around you. The muscles in your body felt like they had been ripped apart. The air felt heavy, almost dry like you were underground. Something was moving around you, circling you, watching you. The monstrous sounds it made created a haunting echo. You begged your body to respond, it was no use. The sounds were coming closer. No. NO! You bellowed out a scream.

"Y/N!!" Someone was shaking you, causing your eyes to snap open. Your body was shaking and there were tears in your eyes. You slowly realized that you had a nightmare. Alastor was in front of you, hands on top of your shoulders. His glowing eyes eyeing you with concern, yet his smile was still present. "A-Al? W-what's wrong? W-why are you in m-my room?" Struggling out a response, your eyes looked at Al in confusion. "My dear, I had heard your shrieks of terror and rushed over! It appeared you were having a nightmare! A rather horrible one at that!" He was still holding on to you, which gave you some comfort. "Oh, I'm so sorry if I disturbed your sleep." Taking in a few deep breaths, helped tremendously as you were able to talk properly and control the shaking. Shaking his head, Al had let go of your shoulders, and moved his hands to your cheeks. "Darling, there is no need for you to apologize! But, may I ask what were you dreaming about?" Massaging your cheeks like a cat, Al smiled down at you, softness in his eyes. Explaining it in full detail, Al realized that the film you had witness, was the main cause of the night terror. He had known that you were scared, but not to the point it would result in you kicking and screaming in your sleep. He needed to rectify this.

"Come along, my dear!" Your body left the sanctity of your bed, and ended up in Alastors arms. He was carrying you like a bride. "W-what Al?! Where are you taking me?!" Whispering at him, while your brain was trying to wrap around this situation. Cocking his head to the side, he gave you an optimistic smile. "To my room!" There was no time to refute back as the both of you had arrived at his door. Creaking loudly, the door to his room had opened by itself. His room was like something out of a story book. One side was the normal room decor, illuminated with candle light. The walls were plastered with Alastor's personal trinkets and stag heads. The other side was saturated in moss, tall pine trees looming above. Chirps of crickets could be heard and glowing fireflies were flying around. Eyes widening in amazement, you continued to gaze around the room, earning a laugh from Al. In the center of the room, was an enormous bed, covered in satin sheets and black pillows. "How... How were you able to do this?" You breathed out, as Al placed you on the bed. Raising an eyebrow, he smiled down at you, wagging his finger. "Ah ah ah! A magician never reveals his secrets, my dear!" A thought popped in your head: "Where was he going to sleep." Snapping his fingers, Alastor used his powers to snuff out the flames from the candles, leaving only the fireflies as a source of light. Realization hit you, causing you to jump off the bed, leaving Al staring at you in confusion. "Wait Al! Are you okay with this? Sharing a bed?" Alastor looked at you, head crooked to the side. "Why of course! Are you oppose to the idea? Haven't you had your share of sleepovers with the effeminate spider?" Well yes you had, but this situation was different. "I'm not opposed to it, but I don't want you to do something you aren't comfortable with." You told Alastor this, rubbing your arm with your hand.

He was still befuddled by your statement until he began to wrap his head around of what you were saying. How charming you were! Thinking of him and his aversion to physical contact. "Darling, There is no need to worry." His body moved to crawl under the covers, sitting on the bed and looking at you. His finger pointed towards you, beckoning for you to return back to the bed. Still hesitant about the whole situation and observing his body language, it came to your decision that he was really okay with it. Your feet carried you back over, and slowly made its way under the covers, plopping your head on the pillow. Al huffed, a little annoyed that you didn't follow his instructions. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him. Your head was engulfed in his chest, feeling his chin, nuzzling it. "Comfortable, Y/N?" A warm breath whispered into your ear. His voice sent chills down your back, while also causing your heart to skip a beat. "Mmph" was your response, as your mouth was muffled against his chest. Hearing a hum from above, you felt Alastor nestle closer, hooking his leg over yours. The static emanating from him had quieted down and the thumping sound of his heart sounded much clearer. Extending out a yawn, your eyelids began droop while listening to the calming sound of Al's heartbeat. Soon, your eyelids had closed and you fell into a deep sleep.

Managing to stay awake, Al had watched you, making sure you were able to relax. He never in a million years thought he would be doing something like this. He was the radio demon, the most fearsome and all powerful overlord. Everyone trembled in fear from the sight of him, yet here he was now, cuddling you in his bed. He was getting soft, which displeased him greatly, yet he couldn't help but find it comforting as well. Your very-being was changing him, in both a good and bad way. Sighing, he pushed his thoughts away as he had a busy schedule tomorrow and needed to be well rested for his broadcast. Nuzzling closer, Alastor hugged you tighter. His glowing eyes dimmed and he had fallen asleep as well.

[katskitoshi]

"FAVOR FOR A FAVOR," with GENSHIN IMPACT.

synopsis: he helps you with something and it's only fair you pay him back, right? (liyue vers.) (mondstadt vers.) (inazuma part one vers.)

characters: dom! zhongli, xiao, and baizhu x gn! sub! reader

includes: (nsfw themes) zhongli is kinda mean, big cock zhongli, kissing kink, worship kink, biting, drool kink, cream pie. xiao is whiny and desperate, fingering, whining, praise kink. baizhu is mean, cockwarming, riding, missonary on desk, implied thigh/leg humping.

zhongli, the vago mundo.

it's only expected that you'd owe zhongli something after how much time you've spent in liyue and with him. he's knowledgeable and there is not much he could want from a mortal such as yourself. well, that is until he starts falling back into his more primal urges, and decides its time for you to repay him.

-- "i'm being gentle, okay?" he truly was too kind, especially now as a gently jerked his hips in to sink his cock deeper in your hole. he was even kind enough to take you in his mortal form and stretch you out with his 8-inch human cock rather than his much larger adeptal one.

his tip, hot and heavy inside you, made you squirm and pant under your boyfriend's loving gaze. he kissed your check gently, slowly traveling down to your neck as began to leave love bites in his wake. "m-move, please, zhongli. need you, real bad- ah, fuck !"

your eyes could have popped out your skull when you suddenly felt yourself get stretched impossibly further. zhongli kissed you to distract you from him pushing even deeper inside. he pulsed inside you, leaking precum to lubreacte himself as he kept going. your fingers dig into his back your your legs wrap around his waist.

the kiss was hot, and drool connected your and zhongli's lips and he pulled away. he smiled. he could already see you turning into a devout little worshipper for him. you move your hands from his back to the back of his head to push him in for another kiss. you miss the first few times, but ones your lips meet, your tongue explore each other.

finally, he bottoms out and you moan so sweetly into his mouth. you pull away from his lips, arching your back as your eyes roll to the back of your head. you came almost immediately and he revels in the mess you make of yourself. he does not wait, gently beginning to pound your sweet hole. one of his hands slaps the side of your thigh and squeezes the fat of your ass.

"fuck, barabatos, thank you, thank you!"

barbatos?

you dare call another man's name -- another god's name while he fucks you? how foolish you are, mortal.

you don't even notice the dangerous glint in zhongli's eyes. he grabs the back underside of your knee and pushes your legs so knees reach your ears. your eyes meet his at last and you can tell he's changed a bit. "zh-zhongli?"

you can only respond in a loud, lewd squeal of his name when he pulls out to the tip and thrusts in so deeply you swear he could rearrange your guts. drool escapes your lips and you try to recollect yourself. lewd squelching noises echo through the room as he dips to your neck and leaves hash bites.

"think you can just call another man's-- another god's name when i'm the one fucking you? think again." he growls into your ear and never stops thrusting for a moment, you cum again and pull him closer, silently begging for a kiss.

he does not oblige, allowing you to just lay desperate for him. he removes one of his hands that holds your legs up and positions it on his shoulder. his now free hand is used to push your cheeks together, drool still falling from your lips.

"he, he is not your god anymore. i am. the only name you'll be calling from now on is morax, understand, dear?"

he doesn't bother giving you the chance to respond, just sticking two of his fingers in your mouth for your tongue to play with. you try to speak, but can't simply because zhongli's ungodly pace knocks all the wind out of you.

his cock pulses inside of you, and you can feel yourself coming closer to your next release too. he removes his fingers from your mouth and plays with you, forcing you closer to your climax. and you can only release silent moans as he finally, finally, delivers a final thrust,

his cock, hot, heavy, and leaky inside you bursts, painting your walls and golden white color. you feel full, resting a hand over where zhongli's cum rests, panting heavily at the feeling inside of you.

he doesn't pull out, but slowly starts thrusting again. "zhongli! m'too sensitive! can't take it!"

"dear, call me morax. and we aren't done yet. you've still gotta take all of me, in my adeptal form, so i can truly show you which god you belong too."

xiao, the vigilant yaksha.

xiao has never really wanted much in return for helping people, especially from mortals. what could you give him after all? but upon meeting after saving you one fateful night, all he wants is to make you his.

"f-fuck, y-you're so tight -- e-even around my fingers!" xiao leans into kiss you once more as his fingers continuously hit that soft, sensitive spot inside you. the kiss silences his moans, his body weight is on you with his thighs on either side of your hips. one hand between your legs, and the other cupping your face as your tongues intertwine.

you bucked your hips upwards to meet his hands. the hand that cups your face moves down to push your hips downwards, stopping you from meeting his eager fingers. his lips shush yours as he pulls away from the kiss. you reach your arms around his neck and pull his lips back to yours. "m-more. w-want you inside me, xiao."

"i know. i know, baby. j-just a little longer -- gotta feel you cum from my fingers first." he speeds up, and you can feel your orgasm coming closer. his face is flushed red and he looks just as flustered, if not more, than you. and all from watching you come undone just for him. you were a sight for sore eyes right now and always.

hands digging into his neck, cheeks heated, panting and whining from his touch because you wanted -- no, need him in these moments.

his fingers curls against you in a way you never thought you could feel and your climax arrives. you moan into his mouth as your thighs shake and eyes roll to the back of your head. he swore he could have came in his pants just then as he hears you whine out his name, hands clinging to his body for his support, for him.

his fingers don't stop as he slowly works you through your orgasm, gentle pumping in and out as he whispers praises that make you lose your head. "shh, baby. i know it's a lot, but not too loud. don't want the humans downstairs to hear you, yeah?" the slight movements makes you squirm from the overstimulation youre feeling and your whines get louder, but he doesn't kiss you to silence you.

"fuck, you're so pretty right now, you know that?" he pulls his fingers out, taking in the look of your twitching hole and panting body. "but you're always pretty," he kisses the tip of your nose, "always." pulling down the waistband of his pants and pulling out his throbbing, leaky cock, he rests it on your stomach. his flushed red tip leaks precum over your stomach.

"need you. p-please put it in, xiao." and he complies. his tip lines up with your hole as he slowly and steadily pushes it inwards, he wants to squeeze his eyes shut from the sheer tightness and wetness and pleasure just putting in the tip has given him, but his eyes focus on the way you smile. dazed out, drool running down your lips and you desperately whine out his name.

do you have any idea what you do to him, mortal?

he continues to push himself in, and he can feel your walls tighten around each vein and each inch he pushes in you. he leans in to kiss you once again, his hands cup your cheeks as you sloppily make out.

once he reaches the base, he slowly begins to pump in and out. a steady pace, one that leaves you dizzy as his cock never fails to reach the part of your body that makes you squirm. the kisses get sloppier, you hands hold onto him tighter, all as he keeps a steady pace. deep and slow.

skin slapping accompanies the wet kisses and whines that leave xiao's lips, your hands upwrap from his neck and push at his chest. you need air, and you pant, greedily taking in the air so you and your lover's lips can reunite once again. xiao's eyes squeeze shut as he whines into your mouth again.

he begins to speed up, muttering out a quick apology. xiao was fast and his thrust were apologetically brutal. though unforgiving as he fucked you deeper, faster, harder, -- still caring and sweet as his fingers moved to intertwine with yours. your legs are propped over his shoulders and he gets a better angle to pound you.

moans and whines are exchanged between you two as you kiss, you can feel your orgasm approaching once more and you squeeze his fingers tight. a silent sign that he reciprocates as he throbs inside you, leaking loads of precum inside you.

and you cum, your walls squeezing so tightly he's not even sure how he hasn't dumped his load inside you. he forces his lips from your own in a desperate attempt to warn you.

"f-fuck, baby, i'm gonna cum. l-let me cum inside you, okay? please? i-i need to claim you, make you mines, th-those adeptal sigils aren't enough. need to - fuck! - need to mark y-you as mines, k-kay, baby?"

baizhu, beyond mortality

baizhu is a man who always gives but alas, he still has wants. he still has needs. he helped you out so long ago, and now, its only fair that you repay the favor, correct?

"stay still dear. if you keep moving, there'll be a punishment in store for you." baizhu doesn't even bother to look at you, only focusing on his papers as he gives your thigh a gentle pinch as warning. with your head tucked into the crook of his neck and you arms gently clawing at his back, you felt as if you could cry at any moment.

how couldn't you considering you had your boyfriend's thick, pulsing cock so deep inside of you and it was still? your walls clamped around him, eagerly trying to pull him in deeper, but baizhu stayed still. was this not punishment to him too?

to be so close to you? to feel you? to be balls deep inside you but not move? it was unfair, and you wanted to just grind your hips downwards, back and forth, up and down -- anything to feel him move inside you. his hips did not thrust upwards except once, when he used it as a warning. threatening you to be good or he wouldn't let you feel him at all. that you could just go back to humping his legs like a pathetic dog.

you should be grateful to even be on his cock -- to feel it pulse inside you in all it's hard, thick, pulsating glory. it's certainly an upgrade from grinding pathetically against his thighs and legs. at the thought of your prior punishment, you whined and squeezed your thighs around his hips harder.

you couldn't take it. he was still, not bothering to even look at you or help you at all. he was so mean, so cruel in these moments that you don't even regret what you're going to do. you unwrap your legs from his waist and lift yourself up, slamming yourself down on his cock.

yes, you're legs were sore from not moving for a while, but the look of shock on baizhu's face is enough to push you to keep going. you both moan at the feeling of finally having movement. lube runs down to the base of his cock as you don't falter for a second -- finding a steady rhythm of lifting yourself of and dropping yourself down while grinding to reach that spot that has your vision turning white.

it continues for only a minute, and when baizhu's shock finally wears off -- you were in for a surprise. his hands grasp your waist firmly, and he lifts you up and positions you on his desk. your back on various papers and pens as he looks down at you as if you were scum -- but lovingly.

he finds his own pace, one much faster than what you were going at and way more harsh that you thought he could even do. it was hot, seeing him panting, seething, upset but somehow still tolerating your bratty actions.

you can't even lift your hands to try to hold onto his neck, they scramble and hold onto the shaking, creaking desk baizhu pounds you on. his cock pistols deep inside you, and wet squelching along with the sound of skin slapping fills the room.

biazhu's cock reaches you in ways you can't imagine, especially now as it pounds into you so deeply. you squeal out his name as a particularly deep thrust reaches the most sensitive spot inside you. your vision goes white, and you clamp down on him so hard that all he can do is grit his teeth as a groan escapes him. his cock pulses once, twice, and one final time before long ropes of his white cum paint your insides.

he slowly rides himself through his orgasm before pulling out. a second later, his cum begans to drip out. you feel so full, but so empty as it leaks from you still clenching hole. baizhu pants, feeling content but not yet satisfied.

"b-baizhu-" you aren't allowed to finish your sentence, not when a squeak interrupts you after baizhu slaps your hole still dripping with his cum.

"don't think we're done yet dear. i thought i was letting you go easy with the cock warming, but you're just so ungrateful. so i guess i'll just have to fuck you until you learn your lesson, okay?"

(mondstadt vers.) (inazuma part one vers.)

i kind of answered these two requests so here to my two lovely anons!

[angelltheninth]

Hi just wanted to say that I love reading your invincible fics !! If your still accepting requests; would it be ok if I request dating hcs on Mark , Eve and Rex please 🙏 (separate if possible) love them so much (reader I’m fine with female or gn ^^)

I love those three too! I will gladly accept your request.

Pairing: Mark Grayson, Eve Wilkins, Rex Sloan x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, dating, kissing, flying, power use, flirting, banter, established relationship, superheroes

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Dating one of them would be great, but imagine dating all three?!

The best boyfriend you could ask for, will take care of you no matter what you need

More on the shy side when you first begin your relationship and easily flustered

You have to be the one to kiss him first, he doesn't exactly have a lot experience with dating

Always got tongue tied around pretty women and you are no exception even after you begin dating

Uses his powers to impress you, or tries to impress you, but he almost crashes into a building because he was too busy flirting with you to notice it

Happy to be affectionate in public, always holds your hand while you walk together

Stays up late to talk to you, Mark is pretty stubborn when it comes to ending the call first

Listens to your heartbeat from far away because it helps him relax and puts him to sleep easier

His phone is filled with pictures of you in various outfits, some of which you bought on your dates, others that you had in your closet and sent pictures to him

The best kinds of dates are the nightly flights he takes you on, high above the city, somewhere private, there are so many romantic spots to explore around the world

Eve compliments you a lot before and after you begin dating, that and affectionate touching are how she expresses her love the most

When she wants to kiss you and you're on the other side of the room she floats right next to you and plants a quick kiss on your cheek right before moving away

If you want to kiss her back you're gonna have to catch her first, which might prove a bit of challenge but the reward will be worth it

Kisses your hand a lot and enjoys the way it makes you blush, you're like a pretty princess

Doesn't let anything interrupt your cuddling sessions and if there's anything either of you need to grab she will levitate it within arms reach

Loves helping you with your makeup and buying you makeup and various accessories, most of them matching

Not shy about taking showers together when either of you spends the night at the others place

Absolutely melts on the inside when she wakes up and sees that you cooked her favorite food to make her feel better when she had a bad night or a bad mission

Hugs you tight when you sleep next to each other, kissing your forehead before she fully falls asleep

On your anniversaries she always tries to come up with something new and fun for the two of you to do together

Big flirt compared to your previous boyfriends and will use any chance to make you blush

Can be the big spoon or the little spoon, it doesn't make much difference to Rex as long as he gets to hold you in his arms all night long

Enjoys leaving kiss marks and bite marks on you, grinning like a lovesick fool when he sees them on you while you're getting dressed

Kisses you in front of his friends and teammates when ever he gets the chance

When it's your anniversary he makes his own fireworks, maybe slightly less flashy but he wants you to see the effort he put in

Gets slightly jealous when he sees other heroes trying to flirt with you

Often works out in front of you since he knows you enjoy seeing his muscles, and the occasional invitation to get into the shower with him after he's done

Huge fan of sleeping over at your place and leaving his clothes there, but he pretends he does it on accident

Actually he does that specifically to see how you're wearing his clothes more and more, during the day and when you're going to sleep, wearing one of his shirts

Instead of just kissing you he will often instigate a long make out session, he can't keep his hands off a pretty girl like you

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Astro thoughts : short n sweet <3 Jupiters Moment

Jupiter in the 1st - Beneficial factors play a lot with this group. However they have to work harder to get it. It is because their life is based of their beliefs, they have to work to maintain a certain mindset to keep the luck from straying away. Have beautiful spirits and are capable of anything, that is because they chose to walk that path & not by how easy it looks.

Jupiter in the 2nd - Needs peace & stability at all times. Good looking. Money making abilities are stagnant until they learn to grow with their consciousness. Not everything is what it seems, so try to be on the look out for something new and different. Thats when the luck begins. Take a risk, and use your intellect to get what you need.

Jupiter in the 3rd - Needs a lot more quiet time, hermit mode. Have gifts in astrology here. Some may op for a new path every few months or so. It's because their destined to know a lot in this life and go after anything that interests them at the moment. Could be open to trying new relationship tactics and going with the flow much easier. Have a different perspective than most & they dont keep quiet about it for long. Mature presence. Very odd but likeable at the same time.

Jupiter in the 4th - Royal family. Heritage & traditional values are stored in this vessel. Mysteries and traditional secrets from the family bloodline may come out at some time. This is a very special house placement because its so much to explore in a short time.

Have faith in your lineage, you're the one who breaks the code!

Jupiter in the 5th - Creativity flows through these cats like no other. Very special essence and can be well liked by almost anybody. This comes from their talents btw. If you're good at drawing, singing, dancing, acting, etc. You might catch a lot of attention on you at some point. This placement gives me Johnny Bravo energy. like you're capable of getting the girls to like you with just your looks and personality. Just dont get to happy, no body likes a super boastful guy ;)

Jupiter in the 6th - Unique flow when going after what they love. They work the hardest when its something they know is divinely ordered for them to achieve. They don't mean any harm, their just trying to get their needs met. Super optimistic when live seems to be in order and balanced. But when off balanced, it seems as if a fire has striking them and they become the great dragon. Don't stare at them to hard, they'll begin to overthink a lil.

Jupiter in the 7th - My my my, this is what I call a royal placement. Because this gifts an individual with a great sex life. Could be unattainable to say the least. You're not everyone's 'favorite' but your presence is also something that people want to receive. How that work? You have a value to you that keeps you at bay from onlookers that don't have nothing to give, but something to take. Be more weary with the company you keep, you don't know how good you got it, and how special you are.

Jupiter in the 8th - Very deep, raw personas who are captivated by the knowledge they receive in the dream realm. They have a lot of issues very psychologically, and this gets deeper with the maturing of their path. They have a light & dark persona but its given to sustain balance in this life & the after life. They have integrity and morals and most times it is based of tradition. Other times, their really a rebel, and go after everything they came for. Because what's a life to live when you can't live it freely?

Jupiter in the 9th - Free spirits and ultra loving character. Can be a bit of a know it all but thats fine. This house is their rightful home, so a lot of good energy can be bestowed on them from time to time. Great luck. Adventure is something they should seek from all ages of their life. It is good to have someone around when going on many great journeys of the soul. These people could be a friend you never forget.

Jupiter in the 10th - Likeable nature. Their personalities fit that of the audience they are naturally connected to. Very bountiful energy. Could look like they got it all going on, but deep inside you may not know the true darkness they carry. This is a capricorn ruled house, so they tend to battle some challenges here and there. But with great restraint & an amazing mindset to go with it they come back on top, each and every time.

Jupiter in the 11th - Sweet personas and balanced personalities. They could be in a lot of groups and can know a lot of people with just their smile and cool personality. They could end up being in groups where they are teaching something to a large mass of people. Could be very inspiring and open to anyone they meet.

Jupiter in the 12th - They feel things a lot heavier than most would like to believe. They see the world differently than their peers and this could make them the odd ball at times. Their personalities mesh well with artistic individuals because they've mastered the eye of sight. Meaning that their good at understanding things from a point of view only them and God could understand, but that doesn't mean that it can be explained. In other words, they are extremely complex to the human brain, not an individual you can describe. Very spiritual, very contagious energy. Bright speakers and just super angelic.

[enzosbabyangel]

Harry Potter characters and sugar daddies

✰ Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy

On the fourth day of christmas my true love sent to me, four thousand dollars | 12 days of christmas master list

og a/n: i made up a name for Harry’s daughter lmao. Remus was removed because i couldn’t come up with an idea for him and couldn’t imagine him as a sugar daddy, i will make up for it in the future thanks to my amazing friend @winnie1emon coming up with a cute idea <3 did i post this earlier then i was supposed to by accident? yes yes i did.

current a/n: This was originally made on my old blog as part of my ‘12 days of christmas’ event. This was all written like five months ago and i just re-posted onto here. i didn’t proofread anything lmao or remember what was in this or the Remus idea. still love @/winnielemon though 💞💞 format is also my old ugly one that i was too lazy to change lmfao

✰ Content warnings: nsfw, MINORS DNI, 18+, age gap, , reader in Harrys is a bit bitchy, cheating, reader is a half blood in Lucius’, you could imagine it as muggle or blood traitor if you’re a pureblood💞

✧ 𝐻𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒫𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 -

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You used to be his daughter’s best friend, Giselle. You two were inseparable, meeting in college and becoming best friends. You constantly slept over at each other’s houses during weekends or holidays. You often attended dinner at the Potters as Giselle lived off-campus.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Another reason you were so willing to attend dinners at the Potters was because of… well… your best friend’s father.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Yep, the infamous Harry Potter. No, it wasn’t because of his popularity. It was because of his sheer talent in bed. Good at fingering you, eating you out, fucking you, fucking your tits, he made everything feel good and he was fucking talented.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Almost nothing could make you give up that man. Well, until you found out Giselle, your ‘best friend’ was spreading shit about you and stealing from you. You completely snapped, shouting and taking all your stuff back. Completely messing up her room in the process. ‘The bitch got what was coming.’ you thought to yourself.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . After that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Potters. Much to Harrys dismay,

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Please Y/N, just calm down. I’m sorry about what Giselle did but i’ll talk to her about it- tell her to give you some money… anything.” Harry practically begged as he lightly grabbed your arm to stop you. His eyes pleading as he looked down at you.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “No! i don’t want your money, just leave me alone.” You said, eyebrows furrowing slightly in annoyance as you glanced behind you to Harry. Tugging your arm out of his grip you grabbed your coat off of the hanger, putting it on hurriedly. The buttons being messily done up to close it and keep you warm from the coldness outside.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Just as you finished doing your coat up, Harry spoke up before you could leave, “Hold on a second, please.” Quickly leaving the room as you were left to stand in the hallway of the front door. Your arms crossed as you rolled your eyes but decided to grant his wish, staying put.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . And just about a minute later he came back, your eyes widening and mouth opening slightly as you looked at the two grand in his hands. You glanced up at him before back at the money. You knew what he was trying to imply. With raised brows you looked back up at him, a shocked look on your face, asking with a dumbfounded tone, “All of that is for.. me?”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Harry didn’t say anything in return, just nodding as he looked at you with the same pleading eyes, mixed with a bit of shame. Evidently in his small smile.

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . And that leads to now. Harry slurping at your pussy, tongue flicking at your sensitive clit or exploring the inside of your tight walls as you rode his face. Holding onto the headboard for support as you looked down at Harrys messy hair that covered the pillow his head rested on. His glasses thrown on the bedside table. His hands resting along your waist as he ate your pussy as if it was his last meal.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Your body was laced in sweat as your hips moved back and forth, his nose occasionally making a pang of delicious pleasure shoot through your body as you bit your cheek, moans falling from your mouth.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Shit..” You let out through a moan as your right hand moved down to grab a handful of Harrys hair. The movements of your hips becoming more speratic as you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . A tug at Harrys hair had him groaning into your pussy, adding to pleasure you were feeling and a couple more flicks of his tongue to your clit made you finally cum. Hips stuttering as you slowly rode through your orgasm, loud moans filling the room.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . As you finally came down from your high, you plopped down onto the bed next to Harry, catching your breath as you sat, back resting against the headboard. You glanced down at Harry to see him wiping your arousal from his flushed face. His hand moving to grab his glasses off his bedside table as he sat up.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . As you caught your breath you sat back up, grabbing and putting your panties back on. While you did that Harry got some money from the bedside drawer and turning his body, tapping your shoulder.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You glanced over at him, soft smile forming on your face as you saw the one grand he had pulled out for you. You uttered a ‘thank you’ and took it from him, taking the money and placing it beside you as you moved to the edge of the bed. Picking up your oversized t-shirt and black booty shorts.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “So uh… i was just wondering… maybe you and i could go to the movies tomorrow? i remembered Giselle talking about how excited you were for… a um… that horror movie to come out.” Harry awkwardly spoke as he watched you get dressed again.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You put your knee high boots on, stopping for a slight second as his words sunk in. “Oh… i would love to but i have a tutor sesh tomorrow.” You said, a sheepish smile on your face as you finished buckling up your boots. Grabbing your bag with one hand. Placing the one grand inside. your bag you quickly made your way around the bed, placing a soft kiss to his cheek, “Maybe another time?” You suggested with a soft smile before quickly leaving the room.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You didn’t bother to hear what he said next. You didn’t want him pestering you on when that other time would be. You tried desperately to push Harry away if it wasn’t for sex, not because you’re a bitch… you were just conflicted with your growing feelings for Harry and keeping the secret that you have a boyfriend from him.

✧ 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑜 𝑀𝒶𝓁𝒻𝑜𝓎 -

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You met Draco at a Fluorish and Blotts, where you were for a book signing. You payed him no mind at first, despite his not-so-subtle staring and smirk on his face, looking you up and down. The typical, rich, creep behaviour. The second you got your book signed you hurried off to the exit, but alass he still got to you.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . What he did, unsurprisingly was try to charm his way into your pants. walking down the road with you as he pretended to be oh so interested in your interest of the writer you came to see today. Then interested in your time at Hogwarts, commenting on how he left fourteen years ago. It’s comedic how he didn’t realize that made everything ten times creepier. His continuous attempts at bringing you home failed each time.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Until, he offered you two thousand dollars. Who could blame you? you’re a twenty year old college student with a student loan. that two thousand can go a long way. So, he came home with you that night.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . And now, a year later, he’s still paying you.

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Fuck baby… s’your god damn pussys the best,” He let out through breathy moans. His hips slamming into you at an animalistic and somewhat impressive-for-his-age pace.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and skin slapping against skin as your nails scratched across his back. The pace of his thrusts prevented you from getting in a proper breath.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Such a slut… selling your body to some old man for money?” He commented with a smirk, arms lifting himself higher up above you so that he could stare down at you. “Don’t even need to pay off your student loan anymore and you still let me do what i want with you.” He continued on with a chuckle. “Do you just love me that much? or the money?”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You were being too fucked out to properly understand his words or form an answer as you just nodded, letting out little babbles in response. Draco just chuckled as he listened to your incoherent responses, finding pride in how he managed to leave you completely stupid with his dick.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Your moans started becoming for frequent as you gradually drew closer to coming undone. Draco was too as his thrusts became sloppier and he continued to spew random, dirty words and thoughts at you.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You came first, clenching around him as your legs shook around his waist. Draco moaned at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, completely stopping his thrusts to soak in the feeling before pulling out, spurts of cum quickly landing on your stomach as you watched with eyes lazy with lust.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Draco plopped down beside you, and what happened after you don’t know as you quickly fell asleep.

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . When you woke up in the morning you had fresh pjs on and Draco was gone. You stretched in bed, the relief feeling good before you flopped back over on your side. Laying comfortably in your bed as you smiled slightly to yourself at the sheer comfort you felt. Your laziness didn’t stay though as you saw the large amount of cash on your desk, quickly sitting up and scooting over to the large stacks of cash. The total amount had to at least be around ten grand. Next to the cash was a small, ripped from a notebook peace of paper. You grabbed it and read it, wanting some type of explanation for the amount he gave you.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ‘around fifteen grand here for you. why? well it’s been a year since we met. an unofficial anniversary ;)’

✧ 𝐿𝓊𝒸𝒾𝓊𝓈 𝑀𝒶𝓁𝒻𝑜𝓎 -

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Lucius was a… special situation. Maybe not really a sugar daddy. The money he gave you was more… ‘keep quiet money’. Money given to you to make sure you kept your mouth shut about the fact he was cheating on his wife with a ‘disgusting’ half blood.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Maybe he did pay you for sex a bit, but majority of the money was to keep you quiet. He was ashamed of himself of course, tempted by a halfblood. But god, he couldn’t help it. The soft curve of your body, the way your beautiful H/T, H/C hair framed your face. The way the maid uniform fit you. The soft hum of your voice that he hears in the early hours of the morning while you’re preparing dinner. Everything about you was addictive, as if you were trying to seduce him.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You were so addictive, in fact, that he’ll pull you into his office and take you right then and there,

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Ah-! Sir-“ You managed to get out through laboured breaths as you desperately gripped at the edge of the desk you were bent over. Your body jolting upwards with every thrust of his hips.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . A harsh slap pained your ass as you let out a mix of a gasp and a moan. “Silence,” was all Lucius let out as his hand tangled in your hair and pulled. He used you as if you were a mere sex toy to him.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Lucius set his hand down on the free bit of desk next to you, leaning forward as he spoke, his tone cold and degrading. “What a filthy excuse of a woman, letting a man in a marriage use you as they please.” A slap to your ass, his tone turning slightly more amused as he continued. “And tempting a man in a marriage at that.”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . You only shook your head at his words, your eyes squeezing shut as your moans made your attempts at speaking fail, unable to vocally deny his words. You simply accepted the words as you let your head drop forward, you could tell that he was getting close when his grip on your hair tightened and his thrusts sped up in urgency.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . When he did cum he immediately pulled out, his cum spurting onto your bare back and ass. Some reaching your uniform where it was bunched up at your waist.

-

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . After his high he simply stuffed himself back in his pants, straightening up his appearance. He picked you up by your arm and pulled you up, just to drop you on the floor. He quickly reorganized his desk, that was already quite neat before he fucked you on it.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “You can stay in here and… please yourself if you must.” Lucius spoke as he rummaged through his wallet. adding two grand in ‘keep quiet’ money on top of the five hundred ‘let me fuck you’ money. He didn’t even spare you a glanced as he closed up his wallet and placed it back into his pocket, maneuvering his way around you and his desk.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “I’ll lock the door so that nobody can walk in. You have spare keys to this room to get out if i’m correct?” He asked with a raised brow, eyeing you as he watched you clumsily get up, not uttering a word. You nodded in response to his words, causing him to just slightly smile.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Good.” he spoke before turning and leaving the room. You stood awkwardly as you listened to the lock of the door and the slowly disappearing sound of footsteps. Feeling a mix of shame and guilt, though the feeling was quickly replaced with acceptance as your gaze dropped from the door to the two grand and five hundred on the table.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Well, a girls gotta do what she’s gotta do.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Written by ankoluvly, december 2024 on tumblr. Do not republish on ANYTHING ©

tags: @screamingoverfiction @nofingjustaninchident @willowlovestheweasleys @manesuaves @pizzaapeteer(idk if you want to be tagged but i remember you saying you were excited for these. just tell me if you don’t want to be !)

[samiramohans]

yellowjackets is genuinely so fucking bad this season i have to laugh. the writing is so ass! they truly don't know what to do with any of their characters. they introduce random twists purely for shock value, refuse to actually elaborate on the interesting parts of the plot, and leave so many storylines half finished.

this is coming from someone who really loved season 1, both the teen and adult timelines were actually interesting. the writing was well done and cohesive and the choices that were made actually paid off or were implied to be explored in later seasons.

season 2 dropped the ball a bit. the first half of the season was basically just setup for the teen plot last 3 or 4 episodes. the adult timeline was fine? but mostly directionless - it didn't feel like there was really any continuity between episodes, just a bunch of diconnected events and callbacks/parallels that were supposed to make the audience Feel Something, and it worked to some extent for me - enough that i could overlook some of the shortcomings of the season and try to enjoy the show for what it was.

season 3? genuinely awful. there's one episode left and like three things have happened in the teen timeline. there's basically no stakes in the teen timeline right now either because we know they don't get rescued until during or after the next winter. instead of actually spending time on any main characters other than shauna (ESPECIALLY taissa and lottie, who are some of the most interesting characters on the show, and we can get into the implications of the writers ignoring their woc another time) the writers are putting their time, effort and budget towards melissa, a character who literally was not named during the first season of the show and had like ten lines in season 2. the adult timeline is also a whole lot of nothing! shauna's on some kind of wild goose chase, taissa and van have no characterization or plot outside of each other, no one really cares about the fact that nat died last season when they all seemed to respect her greatly in season 1, and for some fucking reason, lottie is dead. mind you, we know next to nothing about who she really is outside of the wellness guru we saw last season. all of this is being sidelined for the melissa plot which is just truly so idiotic i can't bring myself to watch any scene with her with a straight face. and with episode 9's ending of melissa stabbing van, i really feel like the show has gone off the rails. her entire plot this season has been about whether she and taissa are going to have a future. whether van will survive cancer and the wilderness is appeased by natalie's sacrifice in the season 2 finale. but no! get rid of all of that for background character #4 who has literally no personality but gives your season shitty underdeveloped #gay representation! or whatever

[vunblr]

Toy Soldier (part 6)

Bit by bit, torn apart. We never win, but the battle wages on for toy soldiers.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Smut. Canon-Typical Violence. Dark Content: Sexual Assault Wounds (Bucky). Depictions of Physical Wounds. Psychological Trauma. Mentions and depictions of Non-Con (both characters as victims).

Summary: She had been the tool Hydra used to keep him operational; he, the weapon manipulated by their tendrils to execute their ambitions. Years after breaking free, fate Sam Wilson brings them together once more. Now, they must navigate the challenges of forging a connection beyond the twisted dynamic that once bound them in the past.

Word Count: 6.7k

Previous Chapter

She barely had time to think before he leaned into the kiss, parting his lips beneath hers in a slow, instinctive movement. Then his hands moved, one curling around her waist, the other pressing firmly against her back, pulling her closer. A low, almost reluctant sound rumbled in his throat, something like relief, or need.

Accepting his invitation, she brushed the tip of her tongue along his upper lip before slowly exploring his mouth. His grip on her tightened, his fingers pressing into her flesh as if trying to merge with her warmth, with her. Another sound tore from his throat, raw and wanting, and-

The sharp crackle of his still-active comm shattered the moment.

"Hey, I don’t want to rush you, but are you two still alive?"

The Team Leader’s voice cut through the air like a gunshot.

Bucky moved before she could react. In an instant, she found herself yanked behind him, his body acting as a solid barrier between her and whatever threat his mind had conjured. His movements were sharp, and precise, and his free hand went straight for a weapon in the tray.

“Bucky,” she said sharply, grabbing his wrist before he could fully grasp the scorpion. She cursed fluently in three languages at that stupid man. Sam must have told him to back off, but clearly, he wasn’t keen on taking suggestions in the field.

Bucky’s breathing was heavy and erratic, and his eyes flicked wildly around the room, assessing, calculating, preparing. His entire body was coiled tight, primed for attack.

“Bucky,” she tried again, softer this time.

Nothing.

She swallowed hard, then made a careful decision. Slowly, she stepped in front of him, deliberately placing a hand over his forearm, feeling the tension thrumming beneath his skin.

“It’s just Smith, the Team Leader,” she murmured, squeezing him lightly.

A flicker of hesitation. A sharp inhale. His pupils were still blown, his pulse hammering beneath her fingers.

“Just Smith,” she repeated, firmer now. Her free hand slid up, resting against his chest, over his pounding heart. “We’re safe.”

A tense beat stretched between them before his shoulders finally slumped, just slightly, and his hand fell limp at his side. He exhaled sharply, blinking as if surfacing from deep water.

Her hands remained on him as she tilted her head, searching for his gaze. “You with me?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He looked at her -really looked at her- and she saw it: the moment the fog began to lift, the moment recognition dawned in his expression.

“…Yeah,” he rasped. “I’m with you.”

She let out a slow breath, relief washing over her. “Good.”

“…We should go,” he muttered, with his voice still rough around the edges, as he turned to pick up his clothes and gear.

“Yeah,” she agreed, stepping back. “Let’s go.”

------

Sam was seated a few rows back, speaking quietly with one of the pilots. He caught sight of her approach and tipped his head toward the seat across from him.

“You good?” he asked, scanning her face with a mix of concern and curiosity.

She hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Just... exhausted.”

His gaze flicked past her, toward Bucky. “And him?”

She followed his line of sight. “He’s here. Mostly.” A pause. “Thank you, by the way. For keeping the others from barging in.”

Sam gave a slow nod. “Didn’t like it, but I trusted you. Figured if anyone could handle him, it was you.”

A beat of silence stretched between them before she spoke again. “I need to talk to Smith.”

Sam’s expression hardened slightly, but he jerked his chin toward the back of the cabin. “He’s over there.”

------

Smith looked up as she approached, setting down the field report he’d been reviewing. “I assume you’re here to yell at me,” he said dryly.

She crossed her arms. “Tempting.”

A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Look, I had to check in. I didn’t know what was going on in there.”

“You did know. Sam told you to back off.”

He sighed, running a hand over his face. “I was responsible for everyone out there. I wasn’t about to let two of our strongest assets disappear in the middle of a mission.”

She clenched her jaw but forced herself to let out a slow breath. Fighting about it wouldn’t change anything now.

“I don’t need to remind you,” she said, voice measured, “that when it comes to Bucky, sudden noises and comm interruptions can cost lives. He was barely holding on.”

Smith’s expression sobered. “Noted.”

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” With that, she turned and walked away.

-----

Bucky hadn’t moved.

She hesitated for a moment before lowering herself into the seat beside him. He didn’t react, still staring at the metal wall as if it held answers he was trying to decipher.

Her voice was quiet when she spoke. “It would be good if you eat something.”

No response.

She reached into the bag of supplies a medic had left nearby and pulled out a protein bar. “Just a little, your metabolism must be eating you out.” she coaxed gently, placing it in front of him. “You don’t have to finish it. Just a bite.”

His fingers twitched, but he didn’t move to take it.

She exhaled, then leaned her head slightly against his shoulder. “Bucky.”

A long silence stretched between them before finally, his hand lifted.

Not to push her away.

Not to retreat.

But to pick up the bar.

She smiled, just barely. “That’s it.”

-----

The rest of the flight she tried to sleep, to be able to heal or stabilize the wounded at some point. She managed a few restless hours, but every time she stirred awake, she caught a familiar weight on her: Bucky’s gaze, steady, unrelenting, and... disapproving.

She let it pass, starting to check on the crew. When she finally finished tending to the last injured agent, she returned to her seat, exhaling as she pressed her head against the wall. He was still looking at her.

“What is it?” she murmured, cracking one eye open.

He said nothing, just kept watching her, with his unreadable expression.

She sighed, shifting slightly. “You’ve been doing the staring thing,” she tried to joke. “And I think you broke your own record.”

Still, he said nothing.

Her brow furrowed. “Are you mad at me?”

That seemed to snap him out of it. His head turned sharply toward her, and his expression twisted into disbelief. “Why would I be mad at you?”

She shrugged, rubbing at her temple. “You’ve been looking at me like you are.”

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I don’t like it,” he muttered.

She blinked. “Don’t like what?”

He gestured vaguely toward her, the frustration evident in his voice. “This. You’re tired, and they’re using you to-”

“They are not them, Bucky,” she cut in, firmly but not harshly. “And they’re not using me. I’m doing my job. These people are comrades.”

His fingers curled against his knee, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“That’s not the point,” he muttered.

“Then what is the point?” she asked gently.

And that was when it all came spilling out.

He wasn’t used to this, saying things out loud, admitting what was eating at him instead of burying it.

“…You’re drained,” he finally said. “You barely slept. You pushed yourself past your limit again. You think that’s just doing your job?”

She sighed, tilting her head back against the wall. “Bucky-”

“I’ve seen them do this before,” he cut in. “I’ve seen them push you, wring you out ‘til you had nothing left.” His throat bobbed, and his next words were edged. “It’s too fucking familiar.”

Her chest tightened at the weight behind his words. He wasn’t just talking about now. He was talking about then, about the way Hydra had kept her on her feet, forced her to fix and mend, and never stop, not unless they said so.

And now, even if this was different, even if she chose to do this, all he could see was her being used up all over again.

“I get it,” she murmured after a moment. “I do. But this isn’t the same.”

He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head.

She reached out before she could overthink it, resting a hand lightly on his forearm. His vibranium fingers twitched beneath her touch.

“Bucky, this is my choice.”

His gaze flicked to her then, searching, studying.

“Yeah?” he muttered, and something raw cracked in his voice. “And what happens when you push too far?

Her fingers tensed slightly against his arm, but she didn’t look away. “Then I rest. Like anyone else.”

He huffed out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Like hell you do.”

She smiled tiredly, squeezing his arm again just once before pulling back. “Then you’ll just have to remind me.”

He sighed, looking away, but he didn’t argue.

Didn’t tell her she was wrong.

-----

She knew he was tired, still on high alert, still wounded, still not entirely himself. That shitty protein bar wouldn’t do anything to keep his body going, and she wasn’t about to let him keep running on fumes.

But telling him to take care of himself never worked, at least, not when it came from concern for him. He’d brush it off, deflect, and act like his body could run on sheer willpower alone.

So, she decided to try something different.

If Bucky wouldn’t rest for his own sake, maybe he would for hers.

She shifted in her seat, letting her posture sag just enough to look drained, tucking her hands into her lap. When she spoke, her voice was quieter, just a little unsteady.

“Bucky…” she hesitated, glancing at him with the softest crease between her brows. “I feel kind of… lightheaded,” she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

Bucky’s head snapped toward her again, scanning her face with his sharp gaze, flexing his hands like he was resisting the urge to reach out. “Did you eat enough?” His voice was gruff, edged with concern.

“I did,” she assured him, rubbing her temple for effect. “It’s just… I burned a lot back there, and now that the adrenaline’s wearing off, I feel so tired.” She blinked slowly, letting her lashes flutter as if she could barely keep them open. “I think I just need to lie down for a bit.”

Bucky frowned. “Go. I’ll keep watch.”

She chewed her lip, shaking her head. “I don’t want to go alone.”

His brows drew together, that conflicted look crossing his face again.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shifting closer, barely touching his arm. “I’d just feel safer if you were there. Just to rest. Please?”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, looking toward the back of the plane. The cargo area had enough space to stretch out, to be out of sight from the others.

She hesitated, then dropped her gaze, playing up the weariness. “Forget it, I shouldn’t have asked-”

“Come on.” His voice was low, resigned.

He stood, already making his way toward the back. She followed, biting back a victorious smile.

When they reached the far end of the cargo bay, she crouched down and tugged at a stack of coarse military blankets folded near the supply crates. Unfolding them, she spread them out on the floor behind a cluster of ammo crates, creating a makeshift resting spot.

Bucky watched her, with his arms crossed and his unreadable expression. “You planning on sleeping on the floor?”

She flopped down onto the blankets with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ve slept in worse places, and there aren’t many options.” she murmured, stretching out. Then, tilting her head up at him, she added softly, “I’d rather not do it alone, though.”

His jaw twitched. His eyes flicked from her to the crates, then back again, like he was assessing whether this was really necessary.

“You did say you’d keep watch,” she reminded him, scooting back slightly to make space. “You can do that just as well from down here.”

For a beat, he didn’t move.

Then, with a sigh of resignation, he knelt down beside her. She barely contained her smile as he stretched out stiffly, moving awkwardly like he didn’t quite know how to do this.

She turned onto her side facing him, resting her head against her arm. The coarse blanket beneath them did little to cushion the hard cargo floor, but she didn’t care. He was still here, still lying down beside her, and that was enough.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Bucky made a sound in response -gruff, low- but the steady hum of the plane drowned out the words. She wanted to ask him to repeat it, but another idea took hold instead. Something bold, something she hoped would keep him still, keep him resting.

She hesitated, then, carefully, she tried. “Can I hold your hand? Just- just until I fall asleep.”

His eyes cracked open at that, flicking to her face, searching. She could see the hesitation there, the gears turning in his brain.

For a moment, she thought he might refuse.

Then, with a sigh, he shifted slightly, unfurling his vibranium hand from where it rested against his chest. Wordlessly, he extended it toward her, palm up, an offering.

She took it carefully, threading her fingers through his, feeling the cool metal against her skin. He let out a slow breath and closed his hand, in a gentle but firm grasp.

“Better?” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the plane.

She smiled faintly, brushing her thumb over the intricate grooves of the plating. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Much better.”

Bucky stared at the ceiling of the cargo hold, listening to the rhythm of her breathing as it evened out into sleep. Her fingers were still tangled with his, like she knew he wasn’t quite ready to be let go of yet.

He wasn’t.

She had played him. He knew it. She had manipulated him into lying down, into resting, into staying still when every part of him screamed to keep moving. And damn it, it had worked.

A small, bitter smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve been the one looking after her. After everything she had been through today, she was the one who needed to be taken care of, not him.

But she had flipped it on him, turned it around, and made herself the reason he was lying here instead of pacing, sharpening a knife, or picking apart everything that had gone wrong. It was a trick, a clever one, and the worst part was that he hadn’t minded.

Because deep down, despite the constant, gnawing instinct to stay on guard, to keep watch, there was a part of him that had wanted this. That had wanted an excuse to stop.

Also, he wanted to bask in this.

His gaze dropped to their joined hands, fingers loosely tangled together. Intimacy was something he had lost long ago, something that had been twisted and stolen from him in ways he still couldn’t fully unravel. And yet, here she was, offering it freely. Not demanding, not expecting, just… holding on.

He knew they’d have to talk when they got back. About what happened to him, about the way he had slipped, about-

His eyes flicked to her lips.

About that.

A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he forced himself to look away. He couldn’t lie to himself. Deep down, he wanted more. More than the comfort of her hand in his, more than the reassurance of her company. The raw violence that had overtaken him when he saw her in danger, the way his entire body had zeroed in on keeping her safe… it wasn’t just duty, instinct, or even friendship. It was something else entirely, something tangled in the mess of their shared past, something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to want.

Because he was so fucking messed up.

And so was she.

Everything about them was tangled in pain and history, in things that shouldn’t have been, in things that were forced upon them. He had no right to want this, to want her. Not after everything. Not after what Hydra made them to each other.

But… she had kissed him.

And when he asked for more, she had given it to him without hesitation.

Bucky swallowed hard, shutting his eyes.

It didn’t matter. Not now. They were exhausted, battered, and raw, and nothing good came from picking apart things like this at 30,000 feet in the air in a crappy military plane full of prying eyes.

-----

At some point, he drifted. The adrenaline, the stress, the wounds, it all took a toll on his body. Lying close to her and sensing the warmth of her body beside him, his brain finally shut down. His breathing evened out, and his muscles uncoiled ever so slightly.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out when something stirred him awake, a slow, soothing warmth against his ribs, pulling him from the depths of much-needed rest. His body tensed instinctively, as his mind tried to assess the unfamiliar sensation.

He shifted slightly, furrowing his brow, and then he registered it. Her hands.

Beneath his henley, pressed against bare skin, the warmth of her palms sent a ripple of sensation through his body, not unwelcomed, but startling. His sluggish mind took a second too long to catch up, as the dull ache in his side faded under the touch of something familiar.

“What are you doing?” he heard himself ask, with a rough voice from sleep.

She didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even open her eyes. Just huffed a small breath, still working gently. “I’m not taking advantage of you, if that’s your concern,” she quipped sleepily.

His jaw tightened, caught somewhere between exasperation and something else he wasn’t ready to name.

You’re depleted,” he muttered. “You shouldn’t be wasting-”

“I’ll be fine,” she interrupted, voice thick with exhaustion but firm. “You were still bleeding. I couldn’t ignore it.”

Bucky sighed, pressing back his head against the coarse blanket beneath him. He should argue. Should tell her to stop, to save her strength, to let him deal with it.

But the warmth of her touch was so soothing, pulling the ache from his body in a way no amount of rest ever could. And, selfishly, he didn’t want her to stop.

So instead, he huffed quietly and muttered, “Stubborn woman.”

She hummed, barely awake, slowing her hands as the last traces of her power sealed his wound. “Look who is talking” she murmured, finally letting her palm rest against his side.

Bucky exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. He didn’t dare move, not yet. ----

When they landed, it was agreed that debriefings would start in 24 hours, giving the team some slack to rest and recover. She glanced at Bucky and saw how the exhaustion weighed on his features, how the tension still lingered in his frame, she knew what she have to do.

She bit her lip, unsure how to bring it up. She wanted to check on him, to make sure he’d be okay. But she also -selfishly- didn’t want to be alone after everything. So before she could overthink it, she just blurted out, “Do you wanna come home?”

He snapped his head toward her, fixing his tired gaze on hers. “What?”

“I asked if you want to come to my house,” she repeated, forcing her voice to stay light, and casual, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “You know, the couch is really cozy, better than the floor you sleep on.” She tried for a teasing smile, though her heart was hammering. “I can make us something to eat. Or order in if you’d rather. Then we rest.”

She paused, watching him carefully, and then added, “I can bake you cookies if you like.”

He pressed his tongue against his cheek, looking down, considering. After a moment, he met her gaze again. “I missed your cookies.”

“So?” she half-smiled, tilting her head in encouragement.

He exhaled through his nose like he was debating something internally. Then, with a small, reluctant nod, he accepted.

The thing was, going back to his empty apartment didn’t appeal to him. Not after everything. And beyond that, there was still this lingering urge to check on her, to be near, to make sure she was okay. He didn’t know how to deal with it, didn’t know what to do with what swirled inside him. The fact that she offered, that she wanted him there, made things easier.

“Great!” she said, as she turned, rummaging into one of the crates of equipment. He watched as she pulled out a white t-shirt, a pair of blue sweatpants, and -he blinked- a pair of boxers. She stuffed them into her bag without hesitation.

His brows furrowed slightly. “What-”

She cut him off, waving a hand at his tac gear. “What? You’re entitled to use this, you know? And certainly, you won’t be walking around my house in all that.” She gestured at the reinforced pants, the combat vest, and the weapons still strapped to him.

Bucky scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “You don't think that museum piece of a couch you have can handle it?”

She smirked, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “Nope.”

Then, with a teasing glint in her eye, she added, “And certainly not my nose. You are showering the second we cross the door.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head again. “Yeah, well, you don’t smell like roses either.”

She gasped in mock offense, nudging his arm as they started walking. “Excuse you?”

Something in his chest loosened at the way she spoke to him like none of the events of the past few days had changed anything. Like they could still be… this.

Whatever this was.

-----

The second they stepped inside her home, the scent of lavender and something else he could never quite place hit him. It was subtle, woven into the very air, clinging to the blankets draped over the couch, the cushions she always tucked into the corners, the soft fabrics and wooden surfaces that made up her space.

Strangely, it smelled like… home.

His shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly and the tension in his muscles eased, as his body finally registered how utterly drained he was. He had spent so many years in places that smelled sterile, and metallic, like gun oil and blood. Places where he didn’t belong.

But here… here was different.

She dropped her bag near the entrance, stretching her arms over her head with a satisfied sigh. “Alright, Sergeant, shower. Now.”

He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head, but didn’t argue. She was right. He needed it. Probably more than he’d ever admit.

As he toed off his boots, she was already moving toward the kitchen. “I’ll find something for us to eat,” she called over her shoulder. “Go get yourself human again.”

He lingered for a second longer, sweeping his gaze over the familiar space, the way the low lighting softened the cozy room… how her presence filled every corner. Then, he grabbed the spare clothes she had packed for him and headed toward the bathroom.

Maybe, just for tonight, he could let himself settle a little. Just a little.

-----

She was stirring the pot when she heard the soft, almost hesitant steps behind her, on the wooden floor. She didn’t turn, but she could feel him there, lingering in the doorway, freshly showered, the faint scent of her shampoo clinging to his skin.

“Enjoyed the bath?” she asked, keeping her attention on the simmering food.

A low hum was his only response at first, but then he stepped further into the kitchen.

She turned to face him, slightly curving her lips. “I got a mission for you,” she declared, holding up the wooden spoon. “Watch this while I shower.”

His brows furrowed slightly. Then he glanced between her and the pot, warily. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if I mess it up?” he asked, eyeing the bubbling mixture with suspicion. “What if it burns? What if-”

“It’s chicken and rice, Bucky, not rocket science,” she interrupted, amused but patient. “You just need to stir it twice every five minutes. That’s all.”

He still didn’t look convinced. He hovered his fingers uncertainly before wrapping around the spoon, as if expecting it to fight back.

She smirked. “You look like I just asked you to disarm a bomb.”

“Feels like it,” he muttered.

“It’s the twenty-first century,” she stepped past him. “Men cook too, you know.”

He let out a slow breath, slightly adjusting his grip on the spoon. “Two times every five minutes?”

She grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

----

Steam curled around her, as the warm water cascaded over her tense shoulders, but it did little to ease the knot of guilt lodged deep in her chest. She braced her hands against the cool tile, letting the spray hit the back of her neck as her thoughts assaulted her.

Bucky had regressed. Hydra had buried that part of him so deep that even now, after years of freedom, it still lurked beneath the surface, waiting for the right trigger. And she… she had been that trigger.

Her stomach twisted. He had gotten hurt because of her. And not just physically. She needed to talk to him about that. To make him understand that he didn’t have to go to such extremes for her. That she didn’t want him to. She wasn’t his mission. She was his friend.

But then, there was the kiss.

She pressed her forehead against the tile, squeezing her eyes shut as heat flooded her cheeks. It had been hesitant, cautious, born of raw feelings and lingering adrenaline. But it had happened. And then… he had asked for more.

What now?

Did he regret it? Had it been just a momentary lapse, a fragile thing that couldn’t survive outside the chaos of the mission? Maybe he wanted to forget it happened. Maybe he needed to. To go back to the easy understanding they had before, without the weight of something new tilting the fragile balance between them.

She exhaled sharply. If that was the case, she wouldn’t push. The last thing she wanted was to make things harder for him.

But if it wasn’t…

------

When she stepped out of the shower, warm and comfortable in her old pajamas, she felt a little steadier. The decision was made, after dinner. She would talk to him then.

Padding into the kitchen, she found him exactly where she’d left him, standing by the stove, arms crossed, watching the pot like it might betray him at any moment.

She smirked, walking past him to grab a couple of plates. “Hey, look at that,” she teased. “The kitchen isn’t on fire. You did great.”

Bucky huffed, shaking his head as he stepped aside to let her take over. “Yeah, well… wouldn’t have bet on it.”

She chuckled, ladling generous portions of food onto their plates. He grabbed the cutlery and followed her to the table, helping her set things up without a word. When they finally sat down to eat, the silence was still present. Not precisely uncomfortable, but thick with something unspoken.

That silence, however, was soon broken. Not by words, but by the low, involuntary groans Bucky let out as he ate.

She raised a brow, pausing mid-bite to watch him. He had already finished his first serving and was now working through his second, using a piece of bread to push food onto his fork with a single-minded focus.

She tried not to smile. At least he was eating. That was something.

When his plate was scraped clean, he sat back with a sigh, rubbing his hand over his stomach before eyeing the pot.

“Go ahead,” she said, amused, before he could ask.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He stood up, and refilled his plate again, and she shook her head fondly as she tore off a piece of bread for herself.

-----

Once they had eaten, Bucky insisted on doing the dishes. She tried to argue, but he had already started gathering the plates, giving her a look that didn’t leave room for discussion.

“Go,” he muttered, turning on the sink. “You cooked.”

She huffed but didn’t push it, retreating to the living room instead. She pulled the couch into its bed form, laying out a pillow and blanket, making sure it was as comfortable as possible.

By the time he was finished, drying his hands on a towel, the couch was ready, and she was perched on the edge, idly picking at the blanket with her fingers.

“Can we… talk a little?” she asked, looking up at him.

Bucky froze for half a second before exhaling through his nose, tossing the towel onto the counter. He knew this was coming. He just hadn’t expected it to be this soon.

Still, he nodded, making his way over. He sat beside her, careful with the space between them, resting his forearms on his knees.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “We can talk.”

A beat of silence stretched between them, and then she took a breath.

“I just... I wanted to check in.” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “After everything that happened.”

His jaw tightened. He knew what she meant.

The mission. The regression. The way he had snapped, the way Soldat had surfaced so easily, like slipping into an old coat. And-

His gaze flicked to her lips before he caught himself, dragging his focus away, fixing it on the coffee table instead.

The kiss.

He hadn’t let himself think about it. Not really. Because if he did, he’d have to face it, that it hadn’t just been the heat of the moment, that something deep inside him had wanted it. That even now, sitting here with her, part of him wanted to reach out, feel the warmth of her skin under his fingers again.

She looked at him, then down, biting her lower lip. “I don’t know how to start, so I’ll just…” She waved her hand vaguely, exhaling. “How long has it been since Poland? Six months?”

“Seven,” he corrected.

“Seven,” she repeated, nodding slowly. She hesitated for a second, then turned to look at him fully. “Reconnecting with you, getting to know you -the real you- has been good. More than good.”

He kept his gaze on the floor, hands clasped together, listening.

“We have this… friendship-” She saw the way his shoulders tensed slightly at the word, the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw. But she pressed on. “After everything we went through, you get me. And I think I get you. That’s why I know I can talk freely to you.”

She paused, searching his face. His expression was carefully blank, but his fingers twitched where they rested on his knees, a tell she had come to recognize.

“I’ve noticed that lately, you have been more... protective of me.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened again, but he said nothing. His features hardened. He wasn’t going to deny it, not when they both knew it was true.

“Like overreacting when I go to little missions-”

“I don’t overreact,” he interrupted gruffly, and for once, looked at her.

She gave him a pointed look. “Bucky, you tried to influence my superiors into not sending me to that drug trafficker affair last month.” He tensed further, curling his fingers into loose fists. “You think I wouldn’t know?”

His mouth opened, then closed. He looked away.

“How do you even know about my assignments?” she pressed. Still, nothing.

She let out a slow breath, shaking her head. “I’m not a porcelain doll, Buck. I-”

 “You are my doll, alright?” he cut her off suddenly, with roughed voice, almost desperate. He shook his head as if frustrated with himself. “I know it’s messed up. I know we don’t-” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “But I can’t help it. The idea of you getting hurt again… I would lock you here in this apartment if it were up to me.”

She blinked, trying to process the weight of his admission. He wasn’t just being protective. This wasn’t about simple concern. It was something deeper, something tangled in decades of fear and loss. “But it’s not up to you,” she said gently, but firmly. “I know you’re scared-”

“I’m not scared,” he snapped, then immediately exhaled roughly, rubbing his temples. “I just… I can’t do nothing. Not when it’s you.”

“And that takes us to what happened the last few days,” she carried on.

His gaze flickered away. He shifted slightly where he sat, curling his fingers around the edge of the couch like he could brace for whatever she was about to say next.

“You shut me out, Bucky” she continued, “then you-”

“I’m sorry to be a burden,” he interrupted suddenly, working his throat around the words. “It’s not my intention to fuck up your life.” He sounded so lost, so small.

“Burden?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “What- What do you think this conversation is about, Bucky?” She leaned forward slightly, trying to catch his eyes, but he kept them stubbornly averted. “Let me finish.”

He tensed but didn’t argue.

“I was so scared to lose you there,” she admitted, “The guilt I felt for what happened to you, because you put me first, because you don’t think about yourself… like you don’t matter at all.”

His breath shuddered slightly at her words, and his fingers twitched against his knee, a telltale sign of unease. When she reached out, taking his hand in hers, he stiffened, but didn’t pull away.

“Bucky, you matter.�� She squeezed his fingers, urging him to hear her. “You always mattered.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. His gaze remained locked somewhere past her shoulder, like looking at her would make it worse. His vibranium fingers flexed beneath her touch, clenching once before settling.

“I don’t-” he started, before shaking his head. “I don’t know how to be that. To be… something that matters.”

“Look at me, Bucky.”

He hesitated, tensing his jaw, but she waited patiently until his tired blue eyes finally met hers.

“What you feel, that protectiveness…” She swallowed, gathering the courage to lay it all bare. “I feel it too. I want only good things for you. I need you to understand that.”

His expression flickered, something unreadable passing through it, but he remained silent.

She exhaled, pressing forward. “If something ever happened to you, and on top of that, because of me-” Her voice caught, and she shook her head. “I would be devastated, Buck.” She gave his hand another squeeze. “So don’t ask me not to care. Because I do. And I always will.”

His throat bobbed again. He looked at her -really looked at her- but still, he didn’t speak.

“You ended up regressing there, Bucky.” She lifted a hand, cupping his cheek, brushing her thumb over the sharp line of his cheekbone. “I was so scared to lose you.”

His jaw tightened beneath her touch, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into her warmth, before catching himself. When he opened them again, there was something hollow in his gaze, something distant.

“You didn’t lose me,” he muttered without conviction.

She swallowed. “Didn’t I?”

His fingers twitched under her hand.

“It was you, but it wasn’t,” she continued, “What if you could never return?”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came. When they did, his voice was almost automatic. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s not about being sorry, Bucky.” Her palm remained on his cheek. He still hadn’t pulled away. “It’s about... trying to prioritize yourself. If not for you, then for me.”

His throat worked around a response, but nothing came. Instead, he just stared at her, like she was offering him something he wasn’t sure he had the right to hold.

"Finally..." She took a breath. "We have to talk about... what happened, what we-”

Bucky tensed just slightly, but she felt it. His fingers curled against his thigh, and his gaze flickered away again.

She took another breath. “What we did,” she clarified gently. “What it meant.”

His jaw clenched. He nodded once, like he had expected this conversation but still wasn’t ready for it.

“I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen,” she continued, softer now. “But I also don’t want to assume… anything.”

His fingers flexed, and his shoulders tensed. When he finally met her gaze, his voice was hesitant. “…What do you want it to mean?”

She took a slow breath. “A moment ago, you said you feel like I’m your doll.” Her fingers curled slightly against his. “I want that, Bucky.” She swallowed, holding his gaze. “I’d love to be your doll.”

Bucky just stared, with his unreadable expression. Like he couldn’t quite process the words, like they didn’t make sense coming from her. His lips parted, but nothing came out. He shook his head slightly, knitting his brows together in something between disbelief and hesitation.

“You… You don’t mean that,” he muttered.

She squeezed his hand. “I do, Bucky. I want that. I want you.”

For so long, he had buried this need, convinced himself that what he felt -the pull, the protectiveness, the want- was one-sided. A fractured, messed-up thing formed between them in Hydra’s wreckage, and it was a cross he had to bear alone. He had convinced himself that friendship and companionship were all he’d ever get from her, and he had tried to be at peace with that.

Almost.

She hesitated. His expression remained unreadable, and the silence stretched longer than she could bear. He was processing -she knew that- but the longer he went without speaking, the more uncertainty clawed its way up her throat.

Slowly, she withdrew her hand, curling her fingers into her lap as she lowered her gaze. “Just-” she exhaled shakily, forcing a small, strained smile. “I’m sorry. I thought when you said I was your doll… you meant it differently. If it was just an endearment, something between friends… if I misread it, we can still-”

“Say it again,” he whispered.

His voice was rough, almost hoarse, like he wasn’t sure if he had any right to ask but needed to hear it anyway. Like he couldn’t believe that what she was offering -what she was giving him- was real.

“That I…” She swallowed. “I’d love to be your doll.” Then, softer, almost a whisper. “If you’ll have me.”

Bucky blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. Slowly, almost timidly, he lifted his hand, brushing his fingers against her cheek. His touch was light, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed, like he wasn’t sure if she would disappear if he pressed too hard.

Then, the smallest smile tugged at his lips, barely there, uncertain, but real. His gaze flickered downward, lingering on her lips for a breath too long before he met her eyes again.

“…Can I kiss you properly?” His voice was rough at the edges, like he was afraid to ask, afraid of the answer.

She exhaled softly, warmth blooming in her chest as she leaned into his touch. “Yes. You can kiss me properly,” whatever that meant.

For a moment, he didn’t move, just stared at her like he was still trying to convince himself this was real. That she was real. That this was allowed.

Then, slowly, he leaned in.

His fingers traced a tentative path along her jaw, brushing his nose against hers before he finally closed the distance.

The kiss was different from their first, deeper, warmer. This wasn’t about grounding or reassurance. He kissed her like he was trying to map her, like he was trying to savor every second of it in case it was taken away from him.

And she let him, curling her fingers against his shoulders as she leaned in.

Then, he let himself sink into it, and for the first time in a long, long while, he allowed himself to want.

Next Chapter

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