#formula one you will pay for your crimes

[muncedes]

tarte doing an influencer trip to the gp and giving them “front row seats” i’m literally going to drink beach

[romugh]

BUTTONED UP, LET LOOSE- NR

ROMUGH’S KINKTOBER

october 16th — car sex, innocence

DAY TEN || kinktober masterlist || 2024.

pairing- nerd!natasha romanoff x g!p!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, loss of virginity, slight corruption?, fingering (n rcv), handie (r rcv), slight exhibitionism (?), praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex (again??? kinda?? cheers!), library sex?, car sex, breeding!!, creampie (not specified tho, but i'm a slut so imagine it.)

wc- 10.456k of filthy goodness. goodnight LMAO!

a/n- wrote this with my little anon's thought in mind, say "thank you"!! anyways, the end was quite rushed in editing as i've been bedridden with stomach flu BUT hey! no cute glasses mention in this is a crime though, i apologise </3

synopsis- innocent natty. library. car. SEX.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches - comment or dm to be added :)

The library's usual hush enveloped you both as Natasha sat across the table, a determined expression on her face while she explained the astrophysics equations you were supposed to be studying. Her voice was steady, the kind of quiet confidence that came from knowing the material inside and out. It was in moments like these, with her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose and her attention fixed on the formulas, that Natasha was at her most self-assured. She had always been this way—composed, focused, and resolutely serious about her academics.

But as she went on about gravitational waves and complex integrals, your thoughts were miles away from the numbers she was scribbling down. You had been at this game for months, pushing her boundaries little by little, enjoying every flustered reaction and breathy response she gave you. The way her cheeks flushed pink whenever you leaned in a little too close or said something teasing had kept you entertained more than the equations ever could.

Today, though, you could feel a restlessness in you, an urge to take things further. Natasha had a crush on you—she didn’t need to say it out loud for you to know. It was in the way her eyes lingered on you when she thought you weren’t looking and the extra effort she put into her explanations, as if she was hoping to impress you. Her timid glances and nervous smiles betrayed her feelings, even if she tried to act like they didn’t exist.

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your legs out under the table until your foot gently brushed against hers. Her head snapped up at the contact, her wide green eyes meeting yours. A faint blush spread across her cheeks, and she quickly averted her gaze back to the textbook, her voice faltering for a moment as she continued explaining. “A-and so, the gravitational constant… it’s, um, important for—”

“Careful, princess,” you interrupted, letting your voice drop to a low, teasing murmur. “You’re sounding a bit distracted there. You sure you’re not the one who needs help focusing?”

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly as she tried to steady herself. “I’m not,” she said softly, though there was a tremor in her voice. She turned the page in her notebook, pointing to another equation. “You… you just need to pay attention more. This part is essential for understanding the exam material.”

“Right,” you drawled, letting your gaze drift down to her lips for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “But it seems like you’re the one who’s a little off track. You’ve been going over that same equation for the past five minutes.”

She blinked, glancing down at the textbook as if she hadn’t realised. Her cheeks reddened further, and she quickly flipped to the next problem. “I’m just making sure you understand,” she said defensively. “These equations are really complicated, and I know you’ve been struggling.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Maybe I’d understand better if you helped me in a different way,” you suggested, your tone deceptively casual as your fingers brushed the edge of the textbook, inching closer to her hand. “You know, something more... hands-on.”

Natasha looked up, her brows knitting together in confusion. She tilted her head slightly, her innocence showing as she tried to piece together what you were suggesting. “Hands-on?” she echoed, her voice soft and uncertain. “You mean like... working through more practice problems? Or... showing you the step-by-step process again?”

Your smirk widened. She was just so naïve, so wrapped up in her own world of equations and theories that it hadn’t even crossed her mind that you could be implying something else. You leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice to a near whisper. “I was thinking of a different kind of help, princess. Something a bit more... intimate.”

The pink flush on Natasha’s cheeks deepened, her eyes widening as she tried to process your words. “I-I’m not sure what you mean,” she stammered, looking down at the book in front of her as if it could somehow provide an answer. “We’re… we’re supposed to be studying this, not... I mean, what else would we even be doing?”

You chuckled, a low, quiet sound that made her glance up at you nervously. “Oh, come on, Natasha. You’re a smart girl—you can figure it out,” you teased, letting your fingers graze her hand ever so slightly before pulling back. “Unless you really are that innocent.”

Her breath hitched, and she bit her bottom lip as if debating whether to press further. “I just… I think we should focus on the equations,” she insisted, her voice shaky. “The exam is only a few weeks away, and you said you needed lots of help understanding this chapter.”

You could see it—the way her fingers fidgeted with the corner of the page, the way her shoulders tensed as she tried to keep her composure. There was a part of her that understood what you were implying, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself. The dark desire was there, buried beneath layers of shyness and self-restraint, and you wanted to pull it to the surface, to make her confront it.

Natasha's innocence was almost palpable. She was the kind of girl who had never even dared to watch porn, the idea itself making her blush furiously. The few times she had tried to touch herself had ended in shame, her own inexperience and embarrassment overwhelming her before she could explore anything further. It was like she’d always stopped herself just short of pleasure, afraid to give in completely, and you could sense that hesitation now, see it in the way her breath hitched as your words hung in the air.

But there was also a spark of something else—a curiosity she couldn’t suppress, a craving she didn’t fully understand. And you were determined to feed that curiosity, to coax her deeper into this uncharted territory.

“Sure,” you said lightly, leaning back in your chair. “If that’s what you want.” You let the silence linger for a moment before adding, “But you know, there’s more to life than just studying equations. Don’t you ever wonder what else is out there, princess? Don’t you want to experience something... different?”

Natasha looked at you, her eyes wide and uncertain, as if she was torn between following her instincts and sticking to the safety of the academic path she knew so well. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered, her blush deepening as she glanced away. “I just… we’re supposed to be here to study. That’s what we agreed on.”

Your gaze lingered on her, the playful smirk on your lips fading into something darker, more predatory. “Studying doesn’t have to be the only thing we do, though,” you said softly. “Sometimes, the best lessons aren’t found in textbooks.”

Natasha’s breathing quickened, her fingers curling into tight fists on the table as she struggled to maintain her composure. There was a glimmer of something in her eyes—an unspoken conflict between the shame that told her to stay focused and the desire that tempted her to give in, to let herself be led astray just this once. She was so naïve, so innocent in her understanding of the world, and you could see how much that innocence was starting to weigh on her.

You reached across the table, this time letting your hand rest over Natasha’s on the textbook. The contact made her stiffen, her breath catching as she glanced up at you, wide-eyed and uncertain. "You know," you began, your voice dropping to a husky murmur, "I can tell you’ve got a lot of things on your mind, princess. But these notes don’t seem like one of them right now."

Natasha tried to pull her hand back, but you tightened your grip just enough to keep her in place, your thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. Her gaze flicked down to where your hand touched hers, then back up to meet your eyes, as if she was trying to gauge your intentions. She swallowed hard, the movement almost imperceptible, but you noticed how her breath seemed to catch ever so slightly.

"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about," she said shakily, her voice betraying her nerves. "I’m here to help you study. That’s… that’s all."

But even as she said it, there was a part of her that didn’t quite want to pull away. The warmth of your touch sent a tingle up her arm, a sensation she wasn’t used to—something that made her want to inch closer instead of retreating. She liked the contact, craved it even, but didn’t know how to reconcile that need with the proper, composed person she was trying to be. The more she tried to focus on the study materials in front of her, the more aware she became of the way your thumb kept tracing gentle circles against her skin, soothing and igniting her all at once.

It was confusing and exhilarating, and the conflict showed in the way she bit her lip, as if trying to stop herself from admitting just how much she wanted this—even if she didn’t entirely understand what this was. Her fingers trembled slightly beneath yours, a subtle surrender hidden behind her protests, a silent plea for more contact that contradicted the words that left her lips.

"Is it?" You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into a smirk. "Because it seems like you’re trying awfully hard to avoid looking at me. And I can’t help but wonder… what are you so afraid of, Natty?"

She swallowed, her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red at the nickname. "I’m not afraid," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just… we should get back to the equations. There’s still a lot to cover."

You could hear the desperation in her voice, the way she clung to the pretence of tutoring like it was a shield against the confusion swirling in her mind. It was adorable, really, how hard she was trying to keep things professional when her reactions betrayed her so easily. You let go of her hand, leaning back in your chair and watching as she quickly pulled away, her fingers trembling slightly as she picked up the pen.

"Alright, then," you said with a shrug, though there was a glint of mischief in your eyes. "Let’s get back to it. Show me that equation again."

Natasha nodded quickly, grateful for the reprieve, and flipped back to the previous page in her notebook. Her voice was steadier now, though still a little breathless as she resumed explaining the formula. "So, um, as I was saying… the gravitational constant is—"

Before she could finish, you made your way around the table and sat down next ot her, this time placing your hand on her thigh. Her words died in her throat, and she froze, her pen clattering onto the notebook. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, her eyes wide with shock and something else—a flicker of excitement, perhaps?

"You were saying?" you prompted, your fingers tracing slow circles on the inside of her thigh, just above the hem of her skirt. The fabric felt warm against your skin, and you could feel the slight tremor in her leg as she struggled to compose herself. "Come on, Natasha. Don't stop now. I was really starting to understand the gravitational constant."

Her breath hitched, and she glanced around nervously, as if checking to see if anyone could see the two of you tucked away in the corner of the library. The quiet space was deserted, and the only sounds were the faint rustle of paper and the distant hum of the air conditioning. Still, the sense of vulnerability lingered in the air, amplifying the heat rising in Natasha’s cheeks. "You… you’re close…" she stammered, her voice barely more than a whisper. "This isn’t… we’re supposed to be…"

"Studying? Yeah, I know," you said casually, your hand sliding a little higher on her thigh. "But you know, sometimes you need to take a break. Clear your head, focus on something else for a while. It might even help you concentrate better." You leaned closer, your lips just inches from her ear as you added, "Besides, I think you could use a little distraction."

Natasha’s breathing quickened, and she bit her bottom lip, glancing down at where your hand rested so dangerously close to her. Her mind was spinning, torn between the urge to push you away and the shameful curiosity that kept her rooted in place. "But… someone might see," she whispered, her voice shaky. "We… we shouldn’t…"

"No one’s going to see us, princess," you murmured, your tone soothing yet insistent as you let your fingers slip beneath the hem of her skirt, brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "It’s just you and me." You paused, letting your hand hover just below the edge of her panties. "Unless, of course, you want me to stop."

Her gaze darted up to meet yours, her expression a mix of panic and something darker, more primal. There was a hunger in her eyes that she couldn’t quite hide, a longing that had been building up for weeks, fueled by every teasing remark and lingering touch. She didn’t want to admit it—not even to herself—but she was curious, desperate even, to know what it would feel like to let herself be led astray. Her hand trembled as she placed it over yours, but instead of pulling you away, she hesitated, her fingers curling loosely around your wrist.

"That's what I thought," you breathed, a dark satisfaction settling in your chest as you slipped your hand higher, your fingers gently pressing against the thin fabric of her underwear. Natasha gasped, her grip tightening around your wrist as if to stop you, but she didn’t push you away. Her cheeks burned with shame, but there was a small part of her that was curious, that wanted to know what it would be like to let go, to surrender like this for once.

You didn’t give her time to think about it. Your other hand reached up to cup her chin, tilting her head back so she was forced to look at you. "You’re so tense, princess," you whispered, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "Relax a little, will you? Just let yourself feel it."

Then, with deliberate slowness, you slipped your fingers beneath the fabric of her panties, finding her wet and warm. Natasha’s breath hitched sharply, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping open again, as if she was afraid of what might happen if she gave in completely. She gripped the edge of the table with her free hand, her knuckles turning white as she fought to maintain her composure.

"W-oh, we should get back to the equations," she managed to say, though her voice was breathless and strained. "This… I don’t know what I’m doing…"

You could hear the conflict in her voice, the way she tried to cling to her sense of propriety even as her body responded to your touch. "Oh, come on, Natasha," you murmured, your fingers sliding against her slick folds, teasing her just enough to make her squirm. "You don’t really want me to stop, do you? I can feel how wet you are. You’re curious, aren’t you?"

She shook her head quickly, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and longing. "No, I… I’m not… I don’t think like that…"

"Shh," you whispered, your hand moving to cover her mouth as you pressed a finger inside her, slowly, letting her feel every inch. "Just let yourself enjoy it, princess. No one has to know."

Natasha’s muffled whimper sent a thrill through you, and you continued to work your finger deeper, savouring the way her walls clenched around you, how her breath quickened beneath your hand. Her eyes squeezed shut, and you could see the struggle on her face, the war between shame and desire, the urge to push you away and the need to cling to the sensations coursing through her.

Your finger pressed deeper, coaxing a breathy gasp from Natasha that she couldn’t stifle beneath your hand. Her eyes darted around the library, half-lidded and unfocused, as if desperately searching for a way out—or perhaps hoping no one would stumble upon the two of you tucked away in the shadows. The thought of being caught seemed to send a jolt through her, a reminder of how wrong this was. But her hips moved into your touch, a subtle, instinctive motion that spoke louder than any words. She wanted this—wanted you—even if she didn’t quite know how to ask for it. Her breath hitched, cheeks flushing as she met your gaze, letting the unspoken desire hang between you.

"That’s it, princess," you whispered against her ear, your voice thick with dark amusement. "You’re starting to relax now. Doesn’t that feel better?" You added another finger, her tightness evident as you worked them in carefully, each movement deliberate, savouring the way her body tensed and then yielded. Her breath hitched again, a soft, desperate sound that made your pulse quicken. You could feel her trembling against you, every bit the inexperienced girl, struggling to reconcile the sensations overwhelming her.

Natasha’s hand gripped the table tighter, her nails digging into the wood as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her thighs quivered, parted even more for you to reach between them, but she didn’t dare look at you—didn’t dare acknowledge the shameful truth that she was letting this happen. "I-I don’t… I don’t know…" she stammered, her voice muffled by the pressure of your hand still covering her mouth. "We… we can’t…"

Your smirk widened, a dark, knowing gleam in your eyes as you leaned closer, your breath hot against her flushed cheek. "Can’t?" you echoed, your tone dripping with mockery. "Or you don’t want to admit how much you like it?" You crooked your fingers inside her, brushing against a sensitive spot that made her cry out—though the sound was lost beneath your palm. Her hips bucked, her legs squeezing together instinctively, but it only served to trap your hand there, her body clinging to you in a way that was far more honest than her words.

A wicked thrill shot through you as you watched her crumble, every twitch and tremor betraying how little control she had left. You could feel her slickness increasing, coating your fingers as you moved faster, your thumb brushing lightly against her clit just to see the way she would react. Her head tilted back, her eyes squeezed shut as a whimper escaped her lips—a sound so full of desperate need that it sent a shiver of satisfaction down your spine. She was already unravelling, and you hadn’t even properly started.

"I think you’ve got something mixed up, princess," you murmured, letting your lips graze her ear as you spoke. "You keep saying ‘we can’t,’ but I’m pretty sure you’re telling me otherwise."

Natasha shook her head, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes as she struggled to stay composed. "Yes… please…" she breathed, her voice shaking with confusion and desire. "I-I don’t know what… I’ve never…"

"Shh, I know, I know," you whispered soothingly, though there was no real comfort in your tone. "You’re so innocent, aren’t you? Never felt anything like this before." You pulled your hand away from her mouth, letting her catch her breath as you kissed the spot just below her ear, soft and lingering. "But that’s okay, princess. I’ll teach you. All you have to do is trust me."

She looked at you with wide, watery eyes, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and arousal, and her breath came out in ragged gasps. "W-we shouldn’t… I’m—You’re… I’m supposed to be helping you with your coursework…"

"And you are," you replied smoothly, letting your fingers drag slowly out of her before thrusting them back in, earning a sharp gasp. "You’re helping me a lot, actually. Think of this as extra credit, princess."

Natasha whimpered, her body responding despite her mind’s weak attempts to resist. You could feel the way she squeezed around your fingers, could see the glazed look in her eyes as her walls fluttered helplessly. Her voice was barely a whisper as she finally pleaded, "Please… not here…"

Your smirk widened as you relished the sound of her desperation, and you withdrew your hand completely, leaving her panting and needy. "Alright, then," you said, voice low and dangerous. "We’ll save the rest for later." You stepped back, adjusting your stance as you took in the sight of her—Natasha, the model student, the academic prodigy, now reduced to a trembling mess in the library’s dark corner.

You licked your fingers clean, savouring the taste of her arousal on your tongue, before leaning down to whisper, "Come on, princess. Let's get you home."

You led Natasha toward your motorcycle, but instead of grabbing your helmet, you tossed the keys into the air and caught them with a mischievous grin. "You’re coming with me," you said, nodding toward her car parked nearby. Natasha blinked in surprise, her confusion momentarily cutting through the lingering haze of arousal.

It took her a moment to register the fact that you weren't heading for your bike at all. Her eyes darted to your hand—clutching her car keys. When had you...? She remembered then, how you had been ‘adjusting’ her skirt just a minute earlier, your hands lingering at her waist. You’d slipped the keys from her pocket without her even noticing.

"You’re leaving your bike?" she asked, glancing back at your motorcycle as if it were the only thing grounding her in reality right now.

"Just for tonight." You walked to her car and opened the passenger door, gesturing for her to get in. "Go ahead, princess. I'll drive."

She hesitated for a moment, but the vulnerable look in her eyes betrayed her longing for you to take control, to lead her down this path she’d never dared tread before. She climbed in slowly, her fingers fumbling with the seatbelt as if her mind were still struggling to catch up. You slid into the driver’s seat, your hand settling on her thigh almost instinctively as you started the engine.

The ride was quiet, the tension thick in the enclosed space, your touch resting warmly on her leg. She squirmed beneath your palm, her gaze flicking to you every few seconds as if waiting for you to do something, anything to break the silence. But you kept your focus on the road, pretending not to notice the way her breath quickened whenever your fingers flexed.

"Adress, princess?" you asked casually as you reached a stoplight, your eyes meeting hers in the dim light.

She gave you the directions, her voice trembling slightly, and you hummed in acknowledgment, continuing the drive. But when you reached her street, you didn’t stop in front of her house. Instead, you pulled into a dark side street a few houses down, parking the car under the shadow of some trees.

"W-why did you stop here?" Natasha asked, her voice small and unsure as she looked around the familiar but spooky area.

You turned off the engine and leaned back in your seat, your hand still resting on her thigh. "I didn’t hear a ‘thank you’," you said, your tone teasing, though there was a dark edge beneath it.

She flushed, her fingers gripping the edge of the seat. "T-thank you," she mumbled, her voice filled with embarrassed confusion.

"Oh, that’s it?" you scoffed, arching an eyebrow. "First you forget, and then you don’t even mean it? Not only did I drive you home, but I also made you feel good. I think I deserve a real ‘thank you’, princess."

The tension in the air thickened as Natasha looked at you, her expression caught between shame and a reluctant understanding of what you were implying.

Natasha's breath came out in shallow pants, her face turning a deeper shade of crimson. She squirmed in her seat, her fingers tightening on the edge of the cushion as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality. Her wide eyes met yours, glistening with uncertainty. “W-what do you mean?” she asked, her voice a hesitant whisper, though a hint of something more—something darker—flickered in her gaze.

You chuckled softly, a low and dangerous sound that made her shiver. “Come on, princess. You’re smarter than that. I’m sure you can figure it out.” Your hand slid up her thigh, fingers inching toward the hem of her skirt. Her breath hitched as your touch lingered there, applying just enough pressure to make your intention clear. “Why don’t you start by thanking me properly?” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement. “And then we’ll see where that gets us.”

Natasha bit her lip, her eyes darting to the darkened street outside. The shadows seemed to close in, emphasising just how isolated you both were. There was no one here to witness this, no one to interrupt. Her pulse raced at the thought, a mixture of fear and something else—something she didn’t want to admit to herself. She looked back at you, her gaze faltering. “I… I don’t know how to…,” she stammered, her voice barely audible. “I’ve never… done anything like this before.”

Your smirk widened, your fingers trailing up to tease the soft skin of her inner thigh. “Again, princess, I know,” you said, the dark satisfaction in your tone unmistakable. “That’s why I’m going to show you. Just do exactly as I say, and I promise you’ll enjoy every second of it, as will I.” You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over her cheek as you whispered, “Now, say thank you like you mean it.”

Natasha swallowed hard, her whole body trembling with nervous energy. “Thank you…” she whispered, her voice breathless and uncertain. You arched an eyebrow, your fingers slipping higher, grazing the edge of her underwear. “That’s better,” you said, your touch growing firmer. “But I’m still not convinced.”

Her heart hammered in her chest as you moved your hand back to her skirt, lifting it just enough to expose the pale skin beneath. She let out a soft gasp, her hands instinctively moving to cover herself, but you caught her wrists, pinning them down gently but firmly. “Ah ah, none of that,” you murmured, your gaze locked on hers. “Keep your hands to your sides, princess. I want you to be good for me.”

Natasha's chest heaved with each ragged breath, her body betraying the deep shame and twisted desire pooling in her belly. Her hands clenched into fists as she fought against the overwhelming urge to obey you, to give in to whatever you demanded of her. It felt wrong—so terribly wrong—but the heat flooding her veins made it hard to care. 

She wanted to be good. She wanted you to approve of her.

Your grip tightened on her wrists, and you gave a little nod toward your lap, the unspoken command clear in your eyes. “You know what to do,” you said, a hint of a challenge lacing your voice. “Don’t make me wait.”

Natasha hesitated for a fraction of a second before she reached for the button of your jeans, her trembling hands struggling with the metal clasp. Her skin burned with embarrassment, but beneath it was something else—a sense of reckless freedom that made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t before. The sound of the zipper seemed to echo in the small space of the car, and when she finally freed you, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Big You straining against the fabric.

Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, as if seeking approval—or perhaps reassurance that this was really happening, that you were pulling her into this dark, exhilarating world she’d only ever glimpsed in her fantasies. But there was no familiar softness in your gaze, only a sharp, predatory gleam that sent a jolt through her. “Go on, then,” you encouraged, your tone growing lower, more commanding. “Show me how grateful you really are, princess.”

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the waistband of your boxers, hesitating for a moment before tugging them down just enough to free you from the fabric. She drew in a shaky breath as you sprang free, her eyes widening at the sight before her. The size, the heat, the sheer reality of it left her stunned, and she swallowed hard, unsure of where to begin.

Tentatively, Natasha wrapped her hand around you, her touch feather-light at first, as if afraid to grip too tightly. The unfamiliar weight and warmth against her palm made her pulse throb in her ears, and you couldn’t help but grin at the way her grip faltered. It was clear she was utterly lost and overwhelmed, unsure of herself in this intimate moment.

With a small, teasing thrust, you pushed into her hand, guiding her rhythm. The sudden movement made her flinch, her fingers squeezing reflexively around you. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but there was something else too—something deeper and more eager beneath her shyness.

“Good girl,” you murmured, leaning back against the seat as you watched her. “Just like that.”

Natasha’s hand moved awkwardly along your length, her inexperience showing in the hesitant, uneven strokes. The look in her eyes was a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity, her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. You watched her for a moment, savouring the sight of the usually composed and reserved tutor and classmate unravelling under your touch. Her breath hitched each time your hips rolled against her fingers, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorably naïve she was.

You reached out, catching her chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up so that she was forced to meet your gaze. “You can do better than that, princess,” you murmured, your voice laced with dark amusement. “Put some real effort into it. Show me that you’re grateful for everything I’ve done for you.”

Her lips parted as though to respond, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Instead, she gave a small nod, her movements becoming a little more purposeful, though there was still a clumsy innocence to the way she touched you. It was endearing, really, to see someone so smart reduced to a flustered, trembling mess in your hands. Her fingers tightened around you, a little more pressure now, and you rewarded her with a low groan of approval.

“That’s better,” you said, your thumb grazing over her lower lip as her breath stuttered. “But I still think you owe me a real thank you.”

Before she could question what you meant, you grabbed her wrist and tugged her closer. With a swift, effortless motion, you pulled her over your lap, her skirt riding up to expose the pale curve of her thighs. Natasha gasped, her body stiffening with shock as she found herself sprawled over you, her cheek pressed against the back of the cool leather seat. “W-what are you—?” she stammered, but her question died in her throat when your hand slid under her skirt, cupping her through her dampening underwear.

“Quiet,” you ordered, your tone taking on a more authoritative edge. “We’re not done yet, princess. I want you to thank me properly… and I think you need a little example of how to do that.”

Her breath quickened, and she let out a small, muffled whimper as your hand slipped beneath the waistband of her panties again, stroking her gently. “I… I don’t…” she began, her voice a shaky whisper.

You smirked, lifting your hand away from her just as she started to press back against your touch, her body instinctively seeking more. “Count for me, Natasha,” you said, your palm hovering over the curve of her rear. “And don’t forget to thank me after every one.”

The first spank landed with a sharp, resounding smack that echoed in the enclosed space. Natasha cried out, her fingers digging into the seat as she instinctively tried to push herself up. “One… t-thank you,” she gasped, her voice barely audible. The sting was sharp and hot, blossoming across her skin, but there was a curious thrill that came with the pain—a strange mix of shame and excitement that made her head spin.

“Good girl,” you praised, your hand rubbing over the spot where you’d struck, soothing the burn before delivering another firm spank. “Two,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “Th-thank you…”

You grinned at the way her body jerked with each spank, at the breathless little sounds that escaped her lips despite her best efforts to stay composed. Her skin grew pinker with each strike, the marks of your hand painting her pale flesh. By the eleventh spank, she was trembling, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps. “Eleven… thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely holding together.

You turned your head slightly, your breath hot against her ear as you murmured, “You’re doing so well for me, princess. But I think you can be even more grateful.” Your fingers slipped between her legs again, teasing the dampness that had soaked through her panties. “Maybe this will help you find the right words.”

Natasha’s entire body tensed at the intimate touch, her thighs clenching together in a futile attempt to close herself off. But you were relentless, your fingers slipping past the thin barrier of her underwear to stroke the slick heat between her legs once more. Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. “P-please…” she whimpered, though she wasn’t even sure what she was begging for.

“Please what?” you taunted, your voice a low purr. “Do you want me to stop?” You knew the answer before she even said it, but you loved the way her hesitation made her feel even more vulnerable. The way she struggled with her own desires, torn between her shame and the undeniable pleasure coursing through her.

“I… n-no…” she finally admitted, her voice so small it was almost a whisper.

“That’s what I thought,” you said, slipping a finger inside her, savouring the way her walls clenched around you. “Now, keep counting, princess. I want to hear every single thank you.”

Natasha’s voice trembled with each counted number, her thank yous becoming softer and more breathless as you continued to spank her, your hand firm and unrelenting. Her skin was hot and flushed beneath your touch, a vivid reminder of her growing submission. With each strike, her body seemed to sink deeper into the haze of sensation, and a part of her—small, hidden—found herself longing for it. The way you touched her, the way you controlled her pleasure, it was like nothing she had ever felt before. It both thrilled and terrified her.

“Ah–Seventeen… th-thank you,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. There was an unmistakable note of desperation in her tone now, a vulnerability that made your pulse quicken. Her knees trembled, and she shifted on your lap, unable to find any position that didn’t make her feel even more exposed. When the seventh spank landed, she let out a choked little cry, her fingers curling into the seat. “Eigh–Eighteen, God, thank you…”

You leaned closer, your breath brushing over her neck as you whispered, “That’s my good girl… So obedient. I think you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you, Natty?” You punctuated your question with a slow curl of your finger, pressing deeper inside her. Natasha’s breath hitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, as though she couldn’t bear to admit the truth.

“N-no… I…” she tried to protest, but her hips involuntarily rolled against your hand. Heat flooded her cheeks, and a tingle coursed through her spine, confusing and thrilling her all at once. Her body responded to your touch in ways she didn’t understand, her pulse quickening at the tone of your voice.

You could feel the shift in her, see the way her resolve was weakening. “Don’t lie to me, princess,” you murmured with amusement. “Your body’s telling me what you really want.” You added another finger, stretching her tighter, and she gasped, the sound barely muffled by her bitten lip. “You can ask for more if you want, you know.”

For a heartbeat, she hesitated, her breath coming out in shallow, uneven gasps as you moved your fingers inside her. But then, to her own surprise as much as yours, Natasha’s voice broke the silence—small and trembling, but there. “M-more… please…” she whispered, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours, a glimmer of need reflecting back at you. The moment the words left her lips, she felt her heart skip in her chest, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

A shiver ran through you at her plea, the sound of her voice, so hesitant and desperate, fueling a dark satisfaction within you. “Oh, my Natty baby,” you praised softly, letting your fingers curl and press into her sweet spot, earning another soft cry. Her nails dug into your shoulders, and her breath shuddered as she rocked herself against your hand, her movements tentative but growing bolder with each second.

“I… I didn’t know…” Natasha murmured, her words barely audible as tears began to spill down her cheeks. The emotions overwhelmed her—shame, desire, the thrill of doing something so forbidden. She had never known it could feel like this, like fire and ice, pain and pleasure all at once. Her body trembled, torn between surrender and disbelief. Yet she found herself craving more, surprising herself with how much she wanted to feel you deeper, to push her limits.

“You didn’t know what, princess?” you whispered, your voice filled with dark amusement as you stroked her cheek, brushing away the tears. “You didn’t know you’d like being touched this way? Or that you’d be begging for more?”

She shook her head, another tear slipping free. “I… I didn’t know it could feel so…” Her words trailed off as a sob escaped her throat, her body arching closer to you, seeking the source of her own undoing. “So good… I—please, I need more…”

Your eyes darkened at her confession, at the way she was finally giving in completely to the desire coursing through her. You tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet your gaze as you spoke, your voice laced with satisfaction. “That’s what I like to hear, princess. Don’t hold back… let yourself feel it. I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

She whimpered, nodding as her breath quickened. Her inexperience was obvious in the way her body hesitated, her movements uncertain. But you guided her, coaxing her to sink further into the feeling, the shame and tears only serving to intensify the pleasure. You shifted, positioning her so that she could feel your hard length pressing against her entrance through the thin barrier of her soaked panties, a low groan escaping her lips at the sensation as your fingers steadily kept pumping into her.

Her face flushed darker, a mix of embarrassment and anticipation as she realised you were really planning on giving her exactly what she needs. “But… but…” she stammered, the words stumbling from her tongue. She wasn’t sure what she was even trying to say. The thought of you touching her like this, pushing her to the edge—it made her feel so dirty. But she didn’t want you to stop. “Please…” The word fell from her lips again, almost involuntarily, her body betraying her.

“There’s my good girl,” you murmured, stroking her cheek. “Just keep asking nicely, and I’ll make you feel even better.” You moved your fingers in a rhythm, coaxing small, breathless moans from her. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she rocked against you with a quiet desperation, her tears glistening on her flushed cheeks.

Natasha’s innocence, her struggle to reconcile the shame and pleasure, made every little gasp, every plea for more, that much sweeter. She had never felt anything so raw, so consuming, and despite the tears, despite the unfamiliar—but very much welcomed—sensations coursing through her, she found herself wanting to drown in it.

Natasha’s body was trembling, every nerve alight with a mix of lingering embarrassment and overwhelming need. Her tears had stopped flowing, but her eyes remained glassy with a desperate kind of longing. She was moving on instinct now, her hips grinding against your fingers as they pressed deeper inside her. Her skin was hot to the touch, flushed from both the heat of the car and the intensity of what she was feeling.

You could see it in her eyes—the shift from uncertainty to a raw, unrestrained desire. It was as though a switch had flipped inside her, and whatever hesitation had held her back was now crumbling away. “Please… I don’t… I need it…” Natasha’s voice was breathy, the words barely coherent as she clung to you, her nails digging into your shoulders. The way she asked for more, with such a mix of innocence and desperation, sent a thrill down your spine.

You tightened your hold on her, feeling a surge of possessiveness rise within you. She was yours now, even if she didn’t fully understand it yet. The way she looked at you—eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a soft gasp—only made the feeling stronger. “You need me, do you?” you murmured, your tone low and possessive as you moved your fingers in deeper, harder, feeling her tighten around you. “Good girl… that’s what I like to hear.”

Natasha let out a choked little moan, her body responding to your touch and words without hesitation. Her legs trembled, her thighs quivering against the leather seat as she tried to move closer, needing to feel every inch of you against her. “I… I don’t know why… I want you to keep touching me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she buried her face in your neck. She couldn’t bring herself to look you in the eyes now, couldn’t bear the intensity of what she was feeling. “Please… don’t stop…”

You chuckled softly, a dark satisfaction curling in your chest as you leaned in, pressing your lips against her damp hairline. “Don’t worry, princess,” you murmured. “I’m not going to stop. You’re mine now.” Your words were possessive, almost a growl, as you let your free hand cup her cheek, guiding her gaze back up to meet yours. The way she looked at you—so needy, so desperate—made something inside you tighten. “And I’m going to take care of you. You want that, don’t you?”

She nodded quickly, her breath coming out in shallow pants as your fingers continued to work her. “Yes… yes, please,” she whimpered, her voice hitching with every curl of your fingers inside her. There was no room left for shame, only the all-consuming need to feel more, to have you claim every part of her.

The way she responded to you now, without reservation, made your primal instincts flare. You wanted to shield her from everything, but you also wanted to keep her trembling beneath your touch, completely dependent on the pleasure you were giving her. “That’s my girl,” you whispered, kissing the corner of her jaw, just above the pulse that raced beneath her skin. “Look at you… so beautiful when you’re needy. So perfect.”

Natasha’s breath hitched at your praise, and a soft whine escaped her lips. She could hardly think straight anymore.

(not that she was, anyway)

All she knew was the way you made her feel—alive and burning, like she was drowning in you. Her fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt as she clung to you, her tears and fears completely forgotten, replaced by an ache so deep she couldn’t even put it into words. “I want… I want to feel you more…” Her voice broke on the last word, her cheeks flushing an even darker shade of red as she realised what she was asking for, begging for.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do, but I want it…”

You paused for a moment, your gaze darkening as you absorbed her words. It wasn’t just need; it was a yearning for more than just the physical. She wanted you, wanted the way you made her feel like nothing else mattered but this moment. “You don’t have to do anything,” you murmured, your voice softer now, but still laced with that possessive edge. “Just let me take care of you, princess. I’ll give you everything you need.”

You shifted her slightly on your lap, your fingers sliding free from her wet heat, drawing a quiet whimper of protest from her. You could see the need in her eyes, the way she bit her lip, trying to hold back from asking for more but failing miserably. “Shh,” you whispered soothingly, tracing a finger over her swollen, flushed lips. “I know you want more… Give me a second, baby.” You reached down, sliding her panties to the side as you guided her legs further apart. “You’re going to have to be my good girl again and show me how much you want it.”

Her breath shuddered out as you positioned her over your hardened length, letting her feel the thickness pressing against her soaked entrance. Her eyes widened, a mix of nervousness and desire flashing across her features as she realised just how much more there was to take. “I… it’s… it’s so big…” she whispered, her voice trembling as she hesitated.

You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. “You can take it, princess,” you encouraged, your voice a low purr as you held her hips firmly. “I’ll help you. You’re safe with me.”

Her fingers trembled as she gripped your shoulders harder for support, her body shaking with both anticipation and need. She didn’t know if she could handle it, didn’t know if she was ready, but the look in your eyes made her feel like maybe she could. Maybe she wanted to. She began to lower herself slowly, her breath catching in her throat as the head of your cock stretched her inch by inch. It was overwhelming, much bigger than your two fingers, and her tears returned, but not out of shame or confusion this time—just the raw intensity of it all.

“You’re doing so well,” you murmured, your hands steadying her as she sank down further, taking more of you inside her. The possessive part of you revelled in the way her body clenched around you, in the way she bit back the whimpers and moans that spilled from her lips. “That’s it, princess… let me fill you up. Take it all.”

Natasha’s breath was ragged, her forehead resting against her left hand on your shoulder as she tried to adjust to the unfamiliar fullness. The stretch was unlike anything she’d imagined, an ache that made her shudder. But the way you whispered encouragements, the possessive grip on her waist, it all made her feel so… needed.

Wanted in a way she had never been before.

“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed out, surprising herself again with how much she was asking for. Her hips moved of their own accord, rolling slightly as if trying to coax more of you deeper inside her. “I… I need all of you…”

Natasha's breaths came in quick, desperate gasps as she struggled to take you completely. Her body shook, the stretch bordering on unbearable, but she physically couldn’t bring herself to stop. She needed more—needed to feel every inch of you inside her, to be filled in a way that left no room for anything else. Inch by inch, she kept sinking down, her legs trembling as her hips rolled against you in an effort to take you deeper.

You gripped her waist, steadying her as you watched her struggle, your breath hitching at the sight of her determination. “It’s okay, princess,” you murmured, voice strained as you fought to keep control. “You don’t have to—”

But she shook her head, her brows furrowed in concentration as she cut you off. “No… I need to,” she whimpered, her voice breaking on the last word as she bit down on her lower lip. The heat between her legs was almost unbearable, the stretch making her feel impossibly full, but she was so close—so close to taking you all. “I can… I can do it. Please… don’t… don’t stop me…”

A shudder of pleasure ran through you as you watched her fight for it, your grip tightening on her hips as you guided her down a little further. “God… you’re so stubborn,” you groaned, the sensation of her clenching around you almost enough to drive you mad. “But you feel so damn good.” You could see the tears in her eyes, the way her cheeks burned as she struggled to adjust to your size, but she didn’t give up. She kept moving, kept pushing herself.

With one final, trembling motion, she sank all the way down, seating herself fully in your lap. Her breath hitched, her whole body going rigid as she felt you buried inside her, deeper than she’d ever thought possible. The sensation was overwhelming, a sharp mix of pain and pleasure that sent a jolt through her entire body. Her eyes fluttered shut, her head falling back as a soft, shuddering moan escaped her lips.

The sight of her finally taking you completely for the first time, her very first time, her body trembling and her chest heaving, was enough to make you lose control. A deep groan rumbled from your throat as you clutched her hips tightly, your fingers digging into her soft skin. “I’m going to show you, baby,” you slurred, your voice thick with desire as you began to move her, lifting her up only to sink her back down onto your cock. “I’m showing you… y’feel so good, princess–Fuck…”

Your words came out in a heated mess, every thrust making it harder to speak clearly. The way her body clenched around you, squeezing you with each roll of her hips, made your head spin. You could barely focus, could barely think beyond the feeling of being inside her, of her warmth surrounding you so completely. It was as if she had been made for you, every inch of her fitting so perfectly around you that it almost hurt.

That look in your eyes—wide, dark, and feral—was what pushed her over the edge. She saw the way you were falling apart because of her, how your breath hitched and your words came out in broken gasps, and it sparked something wild inside her. For the first time, she felt powerful—felt like she had you at her mercy, even if she was the one trembling. Her hands clung to your shoulders, her fingers digging in as she let you take her completely, riding you with an intensity that shocked even her.

“More…” she breathed out, her voice ragged as she clung to you. “Please… More.” There was no room left for shame or doubt; there was only the need to feel you, to be filled over and over until she couldn’t think of anything else. She tightened her legs around you, pulling you in closer as you kept moving her up and down in a steady rhythm, each thrust making her see stars.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. The sight of her—so desperate, so wild—drove you closer to the brink. Your hips bucked up against her, meeting her halfway as you quickened the pace, your hands guiding her movements with a rough, possessive grip. “God, Natasha…” you groaned, your voice barely coherent as you felt her tightening around you, her body squeezing you so tightly it actually did start to hurt. “You’re mine… mine…” The words spilled out in a heated rush, your breath fanning against her ear as you buried your face in her hair.

Natasha’s nails raked down your arms and neck, her breath hitching with every roll of her hips. The feel of your possessiveness, of the way you claimed her, sent a shiver through her entire body. She buried her face in your neck, her lips brushing against your skin as she let out a broken moan. “Yours… I’m yours…” The words left her before she could even think about what they meant, before she could question why it felt so good to say them.

The rhythm quickened, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through her, until it felt like her whole body was on fire. She couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get you deep enough. Her thighs trembled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she clung to you, letting you move her in whatever way you pleased. She didn’t care anymore—didn’t care how needy or desperate she looked. All that mattered was the way you filled her, over and over, until she felt like she would break.

You could feel her losing herself, could hear it in the breathy moans and half-whimpers that spilled from her lips. It was like she had given herself over entirely to you, her body yielding in a way that made something primal inside you go feral. “My perfect girl,” you whispered, your voice rough as you praised her. “That’s it… take it all, princess. You’re perfect… perfect for me.”

Her body shuddered at your words, and a sob tore from her throat as she felt herself unravelling. She was so close—so close to the edge that it scared her, but she didn’t want it to end. She buried her face against your neck, her voice muffled against your skin as she cried out. “Please… Don’t let go—Don’t let go…” Her voice trembled with the intensity of it all, her nails digging into your shoulders as she held on for dear life.

You didn’t let go. You kept moving, kept taking her, holding her against you as if she might disappear if you didn’t. The possessiveness, the need to make her feel everything, consumed you entirely. And as you felt her tighten around you time after time, her whole body going taut as she cried out in pure ecstasy, you knew you had her completely.

Natasha's cries echoed in your ears, mixing with the sound of your own breaths as you thrust harder, feeling the heat pooling in your core. The way she clung to you, the way her body quivered above you, only heightened your desire. “That’s it, baby, just like that,” you encouraged, each word a reminder of how utterly lost she was in this moment with you, how perfectly aware you were in this moment with her.

Her orgasms rolled through her like a tidal wave, crashing over every thought and leaving only pleasure in its wake. You watched, enthralled, as she writhed against you, her body contracting and pulsing around you, squeezing you tighter and tighter as her cries turned into soft whimpers. The way she surrendered to the feeling made your heart race, igniting a deep-seated need to protect her, to hold her through this storm.

“Please… please don’t stop,” she gasped, breathless and desperate. The sheer need in her voice sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting an even deeper hunger. You increased your pace, each thrust more frantic than the last as your body took over, driven by instinct rather than thought. You were focused solely on the pleasure radiating from her, on the way she fell apart around you, and how you could make her feel even better.

“Never stopping, princess,” you murmured, your voice a low growl as you leaned closer, wrapping your arms tighter around her. “M’gonna to fill you up... make you mine.” You thrust into her with a newfound urgency, chasing your own release, the heat pooling in your belly threatening to boil over.

With each thrust, you felt the tension inside you building, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. You could see the look on her face—the way her eyes fluttered shut, the way her lips parted in silent cries of pleasure. It was intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough. “You feel so good, Natty. So fucking good,” you grunted, the pleasure blurring the edges of your mind.

Natasha nodded, eyes glassy with need, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “I—oh god… I can’t…” she whimpered, her hips instinctively meeting yours, driving you both deeper into this carnal dance. The world outside faded into oblivion as you lost yourselves in one another.

“M’gonna fill you, baby,” you groaned, your voice rough with desire as you neared your peak. With a final, powerful thrust, you felt everything snap, the pressure inside you bursting forth as you released into her, filling her completely. The sensation of it was almost overwhelming, the heat of your release mixing with the intoxicating warmth of her body.

Natasha’s eyes widened as she felt you release, and the combination of pleasure and sensation sent her spiralling into yet another climax. She cried out, her voice a mixture of surprise and ecstasy as her body quaked around you, milking every last drop from you as you filled her. The world faded away, and all that remained was the two of you—lost in a whirlwind of pleasure, need, and an undeniable connection that had ignited between you.

You held her tightly, feeling her heartbeat beneath your hands, her breaths coming in shuddering gasps as you both rode the waves of your releases. In that moment, the weight of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you in your own private universe, a place where nothing else mattered but the blissful entanglement of your bodies.

But as you gently slipped out of Natasha and the haze of pleasure began to lift, her eyes glistened with an emotion that caught you off guard. A shadow of doubt crept across her features, her expression shifting from blissful surrender to uncertainty. She looked at the fogged window, her cheeks flushing with a mix of vulnerability and confusion. “Was… was I just a quick fuck to you?” The question slipped from her lips in a whisper, a tremor of vulnerability lacing her voice. She looked down, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, the weight of her words heavy between you. “I mean… I know how you are with girls, and I can’t help but feel—”

She hesitated, biting her lip as if to swallow the flood of insecurities threatening to spill out. Her gaze flickered to the side, avoiding your eyes, and you could see the fear in her expression. The last thing she wanted was to be another notch on your belt, a fleeting moment in the wake of your reputation for sleeping around and toying with girls who had dared to fall for your charm. The thought made her heart race, and she quickly added, “I thought maybe… maybe I meant more to you than that.”

Her voice wavered, each word wrapped in doubt, and the way her hands fidgeted in her lap betrayed just how deeply this fear cut. She needed reassurance, a confirmation that she was not just a passing fancy but something far more significant in your eyes. The innocence she had shown moments before was now tinged with trepidation, and it left you with an ache in your chest as you realised the impact your actions had on her, feeling your heart sink at her words.

Her eyes searched yours for reassurance, wide and vulnerable, and you could feel the weight of her uncertainty. “But… you could have anyone you want,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Why would you choose me?”

“Because I want you,” you replied, sincerity pouring from your words as you continued, “I’ve liked you for a while now. I just didn’t think I was deserving of someone as pure, beautiful, and smart as you.”

A sad smile tugged at her lips, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I’ve liked you for years, you know,” she confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. “Like that time I first bumped into you and let go of that stupid telescope… I thought you were going to hate me for making you pay so much to reimburse the university.”

You let out a soft laugh, the moment turning bittersweet as the memory flooded back. “Honestly, I was frustrated at first, but I couldn’t stay mad at you. You were just… so cute.”

A small smile broke through her tears, hesitantly blooming on her lips. “I don’t want to be just… just a distraction for you.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Not even close. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed. Just being with you, hanging out with you, it feels right.”

Her smile grew a little, and you could see the flicker of hope in her eyes as she absorbed your words. “Really? You really mean that?”

“More than anything,” you confirmed, your heart swelling with the connection building between you. “You’re my choice, Natty. Always.”

Her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and delight, and you couldn’t help but smile at her. “Can I… can I kiss you?” you asked gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha's breath hitched slightly at your words, her wide eyes reflecting the gravity of the moment. It struck her that, despite everything that had just happened between you, this kiss would mark a deeper connection—one that transcended the physical. 

That realisation settled between you, making the air feel charged and electric. You could see how much this meant to her, how special it was that your first kiss would be a shared moment of emotional intimacy and vulnerability. It wasn't just an act; it was an acknowledgment of the bond you were forming.

She nodded, a spark of hope lighting her eyes, and you leaned in slowly, your lips brushing against hers with a tender hesitation. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration, but it quickly deepened as you both melted into it, the warmth of your earlier intimacy blossoming into something even more profound.

As your lips moved together, you felt the last remnants of doubt fade away, replaced by a connection that felt unbreakable. You pulled back, searching her gaze for any lingering uncertainty. “See?” you murmured, your forehead resting against hers. “You’re so much more to me than just a quick moment. You always have been.”

Natasha smiled softly, the tears in her eyes now replaced by something brighter, something hopeful. You knew that whatever lay ahead, this moment would always be the start of something deeper, something beautifully complicated that neither of you had anticipated.

[theonottsbxtch]

Your Charles series was so good. And your writing is amazing.

Could you maybe do something where reader is friends with Arthur’s GF- Jade or someone in his friend group and she meets Charles and he literally has a fall in love at first sight moment with her and maybe he becomes a bit obsessed 🫶🏻🫶🏻

LOVE ME, BABY | CL16

an: i did a mix of a smau and written for this one and since i'm moving to france again soon i'm making her french ehehe

jade_distinguinn

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userone: facecard never declines for both of them

usertwo: i need them both

userthree: omg finally getting to see yn in monaco

yourusername: take me to the port, i need to find a sugar daddy

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userfour: they're so pretty

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monaco casino, arthur's birthday

The night buzzed with a certain energy Charles knew all too well. The Casino de Monte-Carlo was alive with high society types, gamblers, and tourists, all bathing in the golden glow of the chandeliers. A typical night in Monaco, he supposed, but something about tonight felt different.

Charles had come here to celebrate Arthur’s birthday, content with blending into the backdrop. The Austin Grand Prix was just a week away, and while most people recognised his face, tonight wasn’t about the spotlight. That was Arthur’s role tonight, surrounded by his circle of friends. For once, Charles was glad to slip into the shadows.

He’d just stepped away from the table, heading towards the bar when it happened. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you, gliding through the crowd like you didn’t belong in all this glitz, as though you were in your own world. Your dark hair fell effortlessly over your shoulders, and the understated elegance of your dress caught his eye. Not flashy, not trying too hard.

Then, in one brief, perfect moment, you brushed against him.

The light contact jolted him from his thoughts, and before he could even react, you turned, eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Your voice, soft and clear, carried the unmistakable lilt of a French accent.

Charles’s world tilted as your eyes met his. He wasn’t used to this—the sudden quiet that seemed to fill the room, as though all the noise had fallen away in your presence. And yet, here you were, pulling him into that stillness.

You didn’t look at him the way people usually did. There was no spark of recognition, no polite nod that said, I know who you are. Just calm, curious eyes, waiting for a response.

Charles cleared his throat, his usual confidence faltering. “Yes… sorry, I—”

“Are you alright?” you asked, a faint smile playing at your lips, almost teasing.

He couldn’t help but laugh softly, surprised by how easily you handled the situation. Handled him. That never happened to Charles Leclerc. People usually fumbled over their words, especially in places like this where Formula One drivers were practically worshipped. But you? You were treating him like he was just another guy in a suit, standing in your way.

“I’m… Charles,” he managed, extending his hand automatically.

You glanced at his hand, but instead of shaking it, you smiled politely and looked past him, scanning the corridor. “Nice to meet you, Charles. But I really need to find the bathroom before I get even more lost in here.”

And just like that, you were leaving. The most baffling part? You still had no idea who he was.

“Uh, it’s just down that corridor to the right,” he said, voice a bit steadier now but still trailing after you as you moved away.

“Thanks.” You shot him one last glance, smiled briefly, and disappeared into the crowd, leaving him standing there with an unfamiliar feeling settling in his chest.

Charles was used to attention. But this? This was different. A fleeting encounter, barely lasting seconds, yet it had left something behind he couldn’t quite shake. You’d treated him like anyone else. Not a celebrity, not a driver—just another person. And that intrigued him more than anything.

With a sigh, Charles turned back towards the bar, trying to push the thought of you out of his mind.

But minutes later, back at the table with Arthur and the others, his thoughts kept drifting. He couldn’t shake the memory of you, couldn’t help but glance at the entrance now and then, half hoping, half expecting to see you again.

And then, there you were.

You moved through the crowd with a quiet confidence, your head held high, walking straight towards the table. Charles’s pulse quickened as you drew closer, your gaze sweeping across the group until it landed on him.

Jade noticed you first, her face lighting up. “Darling! There you are!” She jumped up, pulling you in for a quick hug.

Charles watched in amusement, barely concealing a smirk. You hadn’t recognised him yet, still oblivious to the fact that you’d just met him.

You sat beside Jade, and Arthur leaned over, gesturing towards Charles. “I don’t think you’ve met Charles here, have you?” His grin was wide, completely unaware of the encounter that had already unfolded.

You glanced his way, and for a split second, something flickered in your eyes. But you kept your expression composed, only hesitating for a moment before replying smoothly.

“No, I don’t think I have.”

Charles leaned forward, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You were good. Playing it off like the two of you hadn’t just crossed paths minutes ago. The fact that you weren’t acknowledging it only made him more curious.

He extended his hand again, this time with a knowing look in his eyes. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you replied, your gaze meeting his directly, a glint of challenge flickering there.

Arthur, still oblivious to the undercurrent between you two, continued on casually. “Charles’s been in Monaco as long as you. Just got back from testing in Italy.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Testing?”

“He’s a Formula One driver,” Jade added, glancing between you and Charles.

Charles didn’t take his eyes off you. He saw the moment of realisation in your eyes, just the slightest widening before you regained your composure. But he caught it. You’d finally connected the dots.

You recovered gracefully, your voice smooth and unaffected. “I guess I’ve been too busy to follow sports.”

Charles let out a low chuckle. You were definitely good at this game. And the best part? You weren’t going to make it easy for him.

“That’s what makes it interesting,” he replied, his gaze steady on you.

Jade quickly pulled your attention to something else, and Charles watched as you turned away, part of him disappointed, but another part relieved. It gave him a moment to take you in fully, to process what had just happened. You hadn’t recognised him—not as a Formula One driver, not as anyone of importance. You’d smiled, thanked him, and carried on.

As the conversation at the table continued, Charles found his thoughts drifting back to you, glancing your way more often than he should. There was something about the way you carried yourself—an effortless kind of allure, unpretentious and completely disarming.

He realised he’d been too quiet when Arthur nudged him, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Charlie, you alright?” Arthur raised an eyebrow, his tone curious.

Charles blinked, forcing a grin. “Yeah, yeah. Just thinking.”

Arthur chuckled, clearly unconvinced. “About your next race or something?”

Charles’s eyes flicked back to you, now laughing at something Jade had said, completely unaware of the fact that you were occupying his mind.

“Actually,” Charles said, lowering his voice so only Arthur could hear, “I was wondering if you could give me her number.”

Arthur looked puzzled. “Her? Really?”

Charles rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, she’s... different. I’d like to get to know her.”

"Alright, I get it," Arthur said, his voice low enough so the others couldn’t hear. He glanced over at you, then back at Charles, his smile fading into something more serious. "But no can do, mate. She’s Jade’s best friend."

Charles blinked. "What’s that got to do with anything?"

Arthur shrugged, his grin returning. "It means I’m not getting involved. If you want her number, you’re going to have to ask her yourself."

Charles felt a jolt of panic surge through him. "Ask her myself?" The words came out louder than intended, and he quickly lowered his voice when you glanced in their direction. He cleared his throat, trying to appear nonchalant. "I mean, you can’t just—"

"Nope," Arthur cut him off, his expression completely unyielding. "I’m not risking it. Do you know how long it took me to win over Jade? If I mess this up by playing matchmaker and it doesn’t work out, I’m screwed."

Charles groaned inwardly. Arthur’s girlfriend, Jade, was lovely, but he had to admit—Arthur had a point. The last thing he wanted was to stir up any drama, especially with you being Jade’s best friend. But still, the thought of approaching you directly made his pulse quicken.

"You’re really not going to help me out here?" Charles asked, trying one last time.

Arthur grinned like he was thoroughly enjoying the sight of a Formula One driver getting flustered over a girl. "Not a chance. But look at it this way—you’re Charles Leclerc, mate. You can handle it."

Charles stared at him, deadpan. "You realise I drive at 300 kilometres an hour for a living, right? This is way more terrifying."

Arthur burst out laughing, slapping him on the back. "Good luck, mate."

Charles watched as Arthur leaned back in his chair, clearly done with the conversation. He couldn’t believe it. Ask her myself. He glanced at you again, and his heart did that strange, unfamiliar thing where it skipped a beat. This was insane.

But there was no way around it.

He took a deep breath and downed the rest of his drink, trying to steel his nerves. The next race was nothing compared to this. Alright, he thought, just go over there and act normal. But even as he thought it, he knew ‘normal’ was the last thing he’d be able to pull off around you.

How had this become the hardest thing he’d ever done?

charles_leclerc

liked by arthurleclerc, jade_distinguinn, carlossainz55 and 986,583 others

celebrating 24!

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userone: my fav grid siblings

usertwo: oh my who are the girls at the end?

arthurleclerc: merci frero

userthree: i want to know what a leclerc party is like

jade_distinguinn: @/yourusername we got put on blast in that final picture

arthurleclerc: @/charles_leclerc eyes

jadedistinguinn: what?

arthurleclerc: nothing mon amour

userfour: i wish i was there

userfive: happy birthday arthur!

yourusername: oh god i look awful

charles_leclerc: i think you look quite the opposite actually

texts between jade and arthur

jade's apartment

You were lounging on the sofa, the late afternoon light filtering through the blinds, casting soft, golden streaks across Jade’s apartment. She was curled up in the armchair across from you, scrolling through her phone and sipping tea. It was one of those rare, lazy afternoons where nothing was pressing, and the air was filled with the comforting hum of nothingness. A perfect break.

“So, what are you and Arthur up to tonight?” you asked absently, flicking through the channels without much interest.

Jade glanced up, shrugging. “Not sure yet. He mentioned something about Charles going to England tomorrow for testing, so we might just go out for dinner and come back unless he wants to go and see Charles.”

Before you could respond, there was a soft knock at the door.

“That’ll be him,” Jade said, setting her cup down and stretching.

You got up to answer the door, opening it to find Arthur standing there, a familiar cheeky grin on his face.

"Alright, ladies?" he said, stepping into the apartment with the ease of someone who's done it a hundred times before. He gave Jade a quick kiss on the cheek before plopping himself down beside her on the armchair, completely at home.

"Hey, Arthur," you said, sitting back down on the sofa. "Heard Charles’s off to England tomorrow? Are you going to see him tonight?"

“Yeah,” Arthur says, leaning back and draping his arm across the back of Jade’s chair. “Got some testing to do, nothing major, just a quick day trip, so we’ll be home tonight.”

“Must be exhausting,” you commented, more out of politeness than anything. Formula One life sounded glamorous, but you couldn’t imagine the constant travel.

Arthur chuckled. “Yeah, he’s got a crazy schedule, that one. Actually…” He hesitated for a moment, shooting a glance at Jade that you didn’t catch, then continued, “Charles is looking for someone to dogsit while he’s away. Just for the day, really. His usual sitter fell through.”

You blinked, surprised. “Charles has a dog?”

“Yeah, a small dachshund. Leo. Sweetest thing you’ve ever seen,” Arthur said, his voice casual but you missed the slight edge of anticipation that lingered beneath his tone.

You glanced at Jade, who was suddenly very interested in her tea, and shrugged. “I could do it. I’ve not got any plans tomorrow anyway, and I’ve been wanting an excuse to get out for a walk. Might be nice to have some company.”

For a brief moment, neither Jade nor Arthur said anything. It was like they’d frozen, and you were about to ask if you’d said something weird when Arthur cleared his throat.

“Yeah? That’d be brilliant,” he said, flashing a quick smile at Jade before looking back at you. “Charles will appreciate that. Leo’s great, really. You’ll get along.”

You nodded, thinking it was no big deal. “Happy to help. I love dogs.”

Jade set her cup down a little too carefully, and you missed the look she shared with Arthur—a quick, knowing glance, a barely-there smile. It was the kind of look that was exchanged between people who were clearly up to something, but you were oblivious, already thinking about what you’d need to bring for Leo’s day out.

Arthur leaned forward, grinning now, clearly pleased with how smoothly things were going. “I’ll let Charles know. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning and drop you off at his place?”

“Perfect,” you said, pulling your knees up to your chest and settling back into the cushions. “I’ll make sure Leo’s well looked after.”

Arthur and Jade shared another glance, but you were too busy scrolling through your phone now, thinking about where you’ll take Leo for a walk. Maybe the park nearby?

Jade stretched, standing up and nudging Arthur’s arm. “We should probably get going, yeah? Need to go pick something up from your mother’s salon.” she said, clearly making something up on the spot.

Arthur jumped to his feet, playing along smoothly. “Right, yeah, can’t forget about that.”

You waved them off, entirely unaware of the little conspiracy brewing right under your nose. “See you tomorrow, then.”

As they left, Jade turned back, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You’ll love Leo, trust me.”

“Looking forward to it,” you called back, smiling.

yourusername

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dog sitting duties

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userone: omg is that leo??

usertwo: chat if they date, my glock is finna be locked and loaded

userthree: is that charles' place??

arthurleclerc: my nephew is so adorable

userfour: i want to be her so god damn bad

userfive: i must have been the worst sort of person in my past life WHY IS THIS NOT ME

jade_distinguinn: cutest ball of fluff ever

usersix: parents?

charles_leclerc: thank you for this

charles' apartment, late at night

Charles dragged his suitcase behind him, feeling the familiar ache of travel settle into his muscles. The testing had gone well, but the flight back from England had drained him more than usual. All he could think about was getting home, maybe grabbing a quick bite to eat, and collapsing into bed.

As he unlocked the door and stepped inside, something felt off. Normally, Leo would be at the door within seconds, his tail wagging like crazy, eager to greet him after any amount of time apart. But today, there was no thundering of paws, no excited whining. The house was still, unusually quiet.

“Leo?” he called out softly, frowning as he dropped his bag by the entrance.

No response.

His concern grew as he walked further into the living room, the sight before him making him stop in his tracks. There, curled up on the sofa, was Leo—and beside him, fast asleep, was you. Your head was resting on a cushion, and Leo’s small dachshund head was draped lazily over your legs. Both of you looked completely peaceful, completely unaware of the world.

Charles blinked, feeling something in him soften at the sight. He’d forgotten for a moment that Arthur had mentioned you’d offered to look after Leo while he was away. Seeing you there, though, sprawled out on his sofa, completely at ease with Leo beside you, was… unexpected. But in the best possible way.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he quietly stepped closer. Leo’s ears flicked up as he noticed Charles, but the dog didn’t move, simply blinked sleepily before resting his head back on you, clearly not ready to leave his comfortable spot. Charles chuckled under his breath. Traitor.

His eyes moved back to you. You were still in your casual clothes, one arm draped across your chest, your breathing soft and steady. He felt his chest tighten, this strange warmth creeping up on him as he stood there watching. He could see why Leo hadn’t come rushing to the door—you were good company, after all.

Charles sighed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. As much as he wanted to crash right there on the sofa himself, beside you, he knew you’d be more comfortable in a bed. He hesitated for a second before moving closer, carefully reaching down and gently sliding one arm under your legs and the other under your shoulders. You stirred slightly as he lifted you, but didn’t wake, your head leaning into his chest as he carried you through the apartment to his bedroom.

You felt light in his arms, your face peaceful as he laid you down on the bed, tucking the covers around you carefully. His heart gave an unfamiliar lurch as he stepped back, watching for just a moment as you settled into the blankets, still fast asleep.

Charles smiled softly to himself, shaking his head as he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. He glanced back at the sofa where Leo had curled up, already resuming his nap. “Looks like I’ll be taking your spot tonight, mate.”

text between yn and jade

charles' apartment, following morning

The first thing you felt was warmth. Your body was cocooned in softness, the kind of comfort that made you want to sink deeper into sleep. But something didn’t feel right. You blinked your eyes open slowly, expecting to see your familiar surroundings—the sofa, Leo, maybe even your shoes kicked off somewhere on the floor—but instead, you were in a bed.

You sat up quickly, blinking against the morning light streaming through a nearby window. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the room around you. This definitely wasn’t your apartment. The walls were unfamiliar, the duvet softer than yours, and the faint scent of something cooking wafted through the air. Panic settled in your chest.

The events of yesterday start rushing back. Leo. Charles. You’d agreed to dogsit while Charles was in England for testing. You must have fallen asleep on the sofa—but how did I end up in bed?

Oh no. Did Charles put me here?

You felt a rush of mortification as the realisation hit. He must have carried you. Carried you. Heat rose in your cheeks as you glanced around the room, suddenly very aware of the fact that you were lying in his bed. His bed!

Throwing off the covers, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood up, running a hand through your hair. You didn’t even know what time it was, but it felt later than it should be. God, how long have I been asleep?

You headed towards the door, trying to shake off your embarrassment as you stepped out of the bedroom and made your way into the main part of the apartment. The smell of food grew stronger, and as you rounded the corner, you froze.

Charles was standing in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, and flipping something in a frying pan. His back was to you, but there was no missing the fact that he was shirtless—completely shirtless. The morning light caught on his tanned skin, highlighting the defined muscles of his back and shoulders. Your brain momentarily short-circuited, and you stood there like an idiot, staring.

Oh God, this is so much worse than I thought.

He turned around, catching sight of you standing there, and smiled, completely unfazed. “Morning.”

You blinked, feeling the heat rush to your face again as you tried to form coherent words. “Uh… morning.”

He set the pan down and wiped his hands on a nearby dish towel, seemingly unaware of your internal struggle. “I hope you slept alright. Sorry if I startled you by moving you to the bed, but I thought you’d be more comfortable.”

Your heart was still racing, and you were pretty sure you were about three shades of red at this point. You fumbled for a response, trying to keep your eyes from drifting back to his very toned, very bare torso. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to just… fall asleep on your sofa like that.”

Charles chuckled, clearly amused by your flustered state. “No problem at all. You looked comfortable, and Leo clearly wasn’t moving anytime soon.” He nods towards the dog, who was lying by the kitchen, tail thumping lazily against the floor.

You let out a breath, still feeling a bit mortified but tried to compose yourself. “I just… I didn’t realise I was that tired.”

“No harm done,” he said, waving off your apology. “I’m actually glad you stayed. Saved me from dealing with an overly energetic dog first thing in the morning. He pawed at your door to join you last night and only came out 20 minutes ago, all calm.”

You managed a small laugh, feeling slightly less awkward now, though your eyes kept darting to his chest before you forced them back up to his face. Focus.

Charles seemed to notice your discomfort, his smile softening. “I was just making some breakfast. Do you want to join me?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. “Breakfast?”

“Yeah, the thing people eat at the start of the day?” he said sarcastically and casual, as if this whole situation was perfectly normal. “I’m making eggs and toast, nothing fancy. But you’re welcome to stay.”

Your stomach betrayed you by rumbling softly, and you realise you hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before. Despite the lingering embarrassment, the idea of sitting down with him, maybe getting to know him better, didn’t sound half bad.

You nodded, feeling yourself relax a little. “Yeah, okay. I could eat.”

Charles grinned and gestured to the kitchen island. “Great. Grab a seat, I’ll get you a plate.”

yourusername

liked by arthurleclec, charles_leclerc, jade_distinguinn and 33,539 others

"nothing fancy" and "just eggs and toast"

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userone: LEOOOOOOO

usertwo: that last pic gIRL??

jade_distinguinn: oh no the charles fans found you

yourusername: fuck

jade_distinguinn: good luck

userthree: who is she omg?

userfour: i think she's arthur's girlfriend's bestfriend from paris?

yourusername: yo that is insane, how did you find out i'm from paris

arthurleclerc: i'm sorry for what's about to happen

yourusername: THERE IS WORSE??!?

userfive: she is gorgeous

usersix: idk who i want more

charles_leclerc: if you were impressed by this, wait until you see what dinner consits of

yourusername: are you inviting me to dinner?

charles_leclerc: only if you say yes

yourusername: yes

userseven: WE ARE WITNISSING HISTORY

twitter

charles' apartment, one night

The evening sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the apartment. Charles had insisted on cooking dinner for the both of you, despite your half-hearted protests. Now, the smell of something delicious—a mix of garlic, herbs, and roasted vegetables—filled the space, making your stomach rumble.

You were seated at the small dining table, watching as Charles moved around the kitchen with surprising ease. He wasn’t wearing a shirt again, but this time you’d had a little more time to get used to it. It wasn’t helping your concentration, though. Every time he turned to grab something or stir a pot, your eyes seemed to betray you, drifting toward the defined muscles of his back, the curve of his arms as he worked.

He caught you staring once or twice, shooting you a quick, knowing smile, which only made you look away, cheeks burning.

“Alright,” he said finally, bringing over two plates and setting them down on the table. “Hope you like pasta.”

You glanced at the dish in front of you—perfectly cooked spaghetti, tossed with olive oil, garlic, and roasted tomatoes. “It looks amazing,” you said, genuinely impressed.

He sat across from you, pouring some wine into your glass with a teasing smile. “Thought I’d try to impress you.”

You laugh, taking a sip of the wine. “Consider me impressed. You didn’t strike me as the cooking type.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, smiling lazily. “What, just because I drive fast cars for a living, I can’t handle a kitchen?”

“Well, yeah,” you tease, twirling some pasta around your fork. “It doesn’t really scream ‘domestic life,’ you know?”

He chuckled at that, but there was a soft, almost thoughtful look in his eyes as he watched you. “Fair enough. But there’s more to life than cars, you know.”

You take a bite of the pasta—perfectly seasoned, of course—and nod. “I’ll admit, you’re a man of surprises.”

As the conversation flows, you start to relax, the initial awkwardness of the morning fading away. You tell him about your time in Paris, about how you’ve been studying film and journalism at university. Charles seems genuinely interested, leaning forward slightly as you talk.

“So, you’re a filmmaker then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Hopefully one day,” you say with a laugh. “I still have a year left at uni. Right now, it’s more learning than making.”

Charles takes a sip of his wine, considering. “What kind of films do you want to make?”

You pause, twirling the wine glass in your hands. “I think... films that make people feel something. You know? I want to tell stories that resonate, that make people look at the world a little differently. Journalism’s the same for me. It’s all about storytelling.”

He watches you as you speak, his gaze intense but soft, like he’s taking in every word. “That’s... really cool,” he says, his voice quieter now. “I think the world could use more of that.”

You smile, feeling a strange warmth spread through you—not just from the wine, but from the way he looks at you, like he’s genuinely interested in who you are, not just the surface-level stuff. “Thanks. I leave tomorrow, though, back to Paris to finish my term.”

There’s a brief silence, and for a moment, the lightness of the conversation shifts. Charles sets his glass down and leans forward, his eyes not leaving yours. “You don’t have to go tomorrow, you know.”

You blink, surprised. “What?”

He shrugs, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I mean, what’s a few more days? Stay a little longer. We can get to know each other better.” His tone is light, but there’s something deeper in his eyes—a hint of something more serious, more intent.

You hesitate, your mind racing. Stay longer? You’d planned to leave tomorrow, get back to your routine, your studies… But the way he’s looking at you now, the thought of leaving suddenly feels less appealing.

“I—” you start, but Charles interrupts, his voice dropping a little lower, his gaze never wavering.

“Look, I know we just met, but… there’s something here, right? Between us?”

The words catch you off guard, and your heart skips a beat. You weren’t imagining it, then—this pull between you two, the way your pulse quickened whenever he was close, the way your eyes kept finding him without meaning to.

“I don’t know,” you say softly, feeling your heart race. “Maybe…”

He stands up then, walking around the table slowly, his eyes locked on yours. Every step closer makes your breath catch in your throat, the room seeming to shrink as the distance between you disappears.

When he’s standing in front of you, he reaches out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up so that you’re looking right into his eyes. “Stay,” he says again, his voice almost a whisper now. “Just a little longer.”

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you meet his gaze, your heart caught between indecision and desire. You open your mouth to say something—anything—but before you can, his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but then it deepens, heat flooding your body as you feel his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer. Your hands move instinctively, finding their way to his chest, the warmth of his skin under your palms sending a thrill through you.

The rest of the world falls away, leaving only the feeling of his lips moving against yours, the taste of wine still lingering, his breath warm and steady. When you finally pull back, your forehead resting against his, you’re both breathing a little heavier, your heart pounding in your chest.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and full of something that makes your knees feel weak. “Stay,” he whispers again, his voice rougher now, more urgent.

And suddenly, leaving feels like the last thing you want to do.

You stare up into Charles’s eyes, still catching your breath from the intensity of the kiss. His forehead is still pressed gently against yours, and the weight of the moment is thick in the air, like the world’s holding its breath along with you.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly along your skin. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, his chest rising and falling a little faster than usual, mirroring your own heartbeat. He leans in again, his lips just a whisper away from yours, and his voice is low, thick with desire.

“Say yes,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. “Stay, just a little longer.”

You swallow, your pulse pounding in your ears, your body still buzzing from the kiss. It feels impossible to think straight with him this close, with the way his touch sets your skin on fire. But then, as his fingers slide down the side of your neck, his lips just barely grazing yours, you make your decision.

“Yes,” you whisper.

His lips crash into yours again, more intense this time, like the word had unleashed something in him. His hands slide down your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. You gasp into the kiss, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as the world blurs around you. The only thing you can focus on is him—his warmth, his touch, the way his mouth moves against yours like he can’t get enough.

Charles backs you gently against the edge of the dining table, his lips never leaving yours, and you feel the solid wood press against the small of your back. His hands find your waist again, lifting you effortlessly onto the table. You gasp as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours, and you feel every inch of him—strong, solid, and warm.

Your hands slide over his bare chest, feeling the taut muscles under your fingertips all over again. He groans softly against your lips, the sound sending a thrill through your entire body. The kiss deepens, more urgent now, and you feel his hands wander—one slipping up your back, the other gripping your thigh, pulling you even closer.

It’s overwhelming, this rush of heat, of wanting. Your heart pounds harder with every movement, every brush of his lips. His mouth moves from yours, trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You tilt your head back, eyes fluttering closed as you let yourself get lost in the sensation.

Then, just when you think you might drown in the feeling, he pulls back slightly, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against yours again. His hands are still on you, holding you close, like he’s afraid to let go.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathes, his voice husky and low.

You smile, breathless and still dizzy from the kiss. “I think I might.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and intense, searching yours. There’s a softness in his expression now, something deeper that makes your heart flutter all over again. “So, you’re staying?”

You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Yes. I’m staying.”

The smile that spreads across his face is slow, but it lights up his entire expression, making something inside you melt. He leans in again, pressing one last soft, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back and gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Good,” he whispers, his voice low and full of promise. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

yourusername

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one more week won't hurt, right?

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userone: GUYS??!??!?!?!

usertwo: is leo about to have a mother?

userthree: THAT LAST PHOTO CHARLES LECLERC HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

jade_distinguinn: @/arthurleclerc mission acomplished?

arthurleclerc: yes boss 🫡

yourusername: huh??

userfour: can not believe i'm alive during this time rn

charles_leclerc: rumour is you can transfer to UoMonaco

yourusername: charlie you know i can't 🤭

userfive: CHARLIE STOP I CANNOT TAKE THIS I DONT EVEN KNOW THESE PEOPLE AH

usersix: i am sick🤧

userseven: time to start wondering around aimlessly in monaco and pray for the best

the end.

[bunnys-kisses]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ smokin' - toto w. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

toto knew he should quit. he had seen enough of the pamphlets in doctor's offices and read enough to know, smoking kills. and at his age, he needed to be bit healthier. he worked out, and ate well, but sometimes, after a hard race, there was nothing like a pack of cigarettes in his hand and somewhere to sit down. let the nicotine flood his rattled senses and having a nice relaxing evening. it was almost nostalgic, he remembered when the red of marlboro's logo was all over the jackets and cars of formula one. now replaced with sports drinks. while he wasn't smoking a pack of day to lazily have one or two felt nice, letting the smoke fill his lungs even if it occasionally made him cough. he felt like he was trying too hard if he tried vaping to get the same fix. like a desperate attempt to be 'young', so he stuck to the cancer sticks. plus if he quit smoking, then he'd have to stop participating in his favourite punishment. keeping an ash tray balanced on your back.

you had been a bad girl. you knew it. it was a 'crime' that you knew would be found out. someone stole their daddy's credit card and racked up a healthy charge all in one day. toto knew he promised you the world, but, you can't take what isn't yours. toto liked rules, he liked to make sure that you were following them. he couldn't have you on bad behavior, it would look poorly on him. that he couldn't keep his alarmingly younger girlfriend in line, that wasn't the association that someone like toto wanted. so while he didn't return the items you bought, you'd have to pay him back somehow. which meant enduring a punishment. which meant him seated on the couch, lounging with a cigarette in his hand, getting his fix after a particularly rough weekend. and you, naked, save for the necklace with his name on it around your throat. the name torger almost dangled in the low light of the living room. the smell of cigarette smoke filled the air. right now you were nothing more than a piece of furniture made to hold his expensive ashtray. "don't drop it, schatzi." toto's voice was low, "worth quite a bit. probably more than that little house you grew up in." he exhaled smoke, "look at me." you looked over to him, being on your hands and knees for so long made you a little shaky. your arms felt like jelly and you knew your knees were rubbed raw. toto smiled a little, the kind of dangerous smile that made something run through you. it excited you and made you hot. you said, "please, daddy." and toto shook his head, "the punishment was until i finished this. the worse behaved you are, the longer this will take." you swallowed and kept your gaze on him, there was something some domineering about him. it was almost scary. he was the big man in charge, the team principal. and while he made all the decisions, you just had to be by his side and behave. but, you couldn't even do that. you watched him took another drag of his smoke and you rubbed your thighs together, everything burned from the position you were in. toto spoke once more, "i give you the world and you still want more. you should be know better by now, meine prinzessin." he leaned forward a little bit and got some of the ash off of his smoke into the ashtray, "you're a smart girl, no? if you're not smart, you are at least well behaved. but even now i am questioning that." you shook your head and looked down at the hardwood floor, "no daddy, i'm good. i promise." you bit the inside of your cheek, "please." toto sighed and exhaled smoke, "schatzi. i am trying to believe you, but it's hard."

the money was nothing, honestly he found it amusing. it was barely anything in the grand scheme of things, under four hundred dollars. barely a scratch in toto's finances. but to watch you whimper and whine, well, that was worth more than anything. but, toto had rules. he was the head of the relationship, the one who took care of you, and while it wasn't cheap, he expected for things to be followed. another drag and he eyed your quivering form. he knew you liked this, if he moved a little he could see your soaked pussy. you got off to being toto's little toy, used for his pleasure. it made him thankful tha the found you before someone with worst intentions got their claws into you first. you were too sweet at times, it all mixed in perfectly with your brattiness. "i'm starting to think you like this. you like getting into trouble. did someone not have rules when they were young? didn't get the attention from your real daddy." his tone was harsh. he saw you quiver a little more, he must've struck a nerve, "poor little princess didn't get the love she wanted, how sad. i bet daddy was too busy with everyone else and left no time for you." he knew your history inside and out, he even met your father. he knew that any psychologist would have a field day if they took one look at you and him. a younger girl who wanted an older man to take care of her. and an older man with a thirst for younger women who didn't like being asked difficult questions.

"but don't worry, schatzi. that's why i'm here. to make it all better."

when he was finished with the cigarette, toto purposefully missed the ash tray and put it out on the small of your back. you whimpered and bucked your hips, toto was quick enough to grab the glass ashtray before you made more of a mess. "schatzi." he said, "you need to be careful." and he saw the burn on your back. it made a deep part of him very excited at the sight of you. maybe next time your skin should be his ash tray, litter would unblemished skin with the burns of cigarettes. "please daddy." you gasped, you ended up with your cheek against the floor. unable to hold much longer, and now with the burn on your back. it all flooded your head. toto put the ash tray on the coffee table and said, "if you want to finish yourself off, princess. you better do it yourself. you've become lazy because i do everything for you. if you want to feel better, you have to do it yourself. you're a big girl." he watched you swallow before you put your hand between your thighs and rubbed your achy clit. your cheek still against the floor with your hips raised, your back as sloped as you pleasured yourself.

"please, daddy." you whined as you pleasured yourself. the smell of smoke filled your brain and while it made you scrunch your nose at the heavy scent. you continued to make yourself feel good. you panted heavily like a dog as you rubbed your clit against the side of your hand. your other hand was on the floor. you tensed up, your hand covered in your wetness as you whined and whimpered. toto was hard in his slacks, but he was a man of control. unlike you. you were whiny and loud, your pants heavy while your squirmed against your own touch. while toto would've been happy to seat you on his cock. maybe even have another cigarette while he used your pretty breasts as an ashtray, you needed to learn your lesson. so either you got yourself off, or you'd be left sexually frustrated. he said to you, his voice a rumble that made a shiver run through you, "spoiled little girl. you had me convinced, now you've become spoiled. but." he shifted in his spot on the couch. leaned for a little bit to get a better view of your body, "i am more than happy to train you all over again. it's almost the summer break, which means, it will just be you and i. i wonder how many marks i can leave on you. go to the dutch grand prix with my marks on you inside and out. might turn a few heads." his words made pleasure flood your core, "maybe a collar. even a leash so i could tie you somewhere and no have you get lost." he sighed, "you always wander off. he watched you pleasure yourself and the sight was erotic. it wasn't long before your moans were tight and your body was tense like a bow. you looked beautiful, blissed out beside toto not even fucking you. with a few more drags of your hand across your clit, you came and then you ended up fully flat on the floor. your brain felt elsewhere and your body felt the weight of an orgasm across your achy joints. your tongue was even stuck out a little as you tried to center your thoughts once more.

toto chuckled lightly before he got up off the couch and went to you. you got a view of the bulge in his slacks before his face, you tried to get yourself up to undo his belt. but instead he grabbed you by the hair. he looked at you as he said, "i don't fuck on the floor like an animal. your punishment isn't over, but you should be lucky i'll even fuck you on a bed." and you, the good girl you were, nodded to your daddy. you words were simple as you got up, "yes daddy." <3

a/n: i lost control of the keyboard

[solaireverie]

dr3 | deep blue but you painted me golden

part three — long live all the walls we crashed through

[ series masterlist ] part 1 | part 2 | part 4

pairings: daniel ricciardo x f!leclerc!rbr driver!reader, lestappen

summary: [ social media au ] red bull's second and third drivers learn to get along, y/n wins her first grand prix, and things get... complicated

warnings: mentioned/implied sex (13+ only please) (if you're -13 get off tumblr)

faceclaim: barbara palvin + random faceless checo/max pics + pinterest

author’s note: technically max and charles aren't together yet. they're still in the friends-with-benefit-in-denial phase. oof. also the lack of gay paparazzi photos is a CRIME. enjoy!

liked by charles_leclerc, redbullracing, danielricciardo and 249,736 others

yourusername back home and ready for the monaco gp 🤟

view comments

pierregasly whoever places lower has to pay for dinner?

↪ yourusername i'll hold you to it, gasly

↪ user pierre is this really a wise bet to make with red bull's current pace 😐

↪ yourusername shhh 🤫 i want free food

lorenzotl maman wants you and charles to bring arthur home before midnight

↪ arthur_leclerc why am i the only one with a curfew 😨 y/n's barely older than me

↪ yourusername formula 1 privileges 😌

↪ charles_leclerc more like maman knows you'll just sneak out like always 😶

↪ yourusername charles marc hervé perceval leclerc i know who you've been pining after for the past decade. watch your words

↪ charles_leclerc i thought we agreed not to speak about that???

Max Verstappen, Y/n Leclerc, and Daniel Ricciardo on Monaco — Oracle Red Bull Racing

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 569,420 others

tagged: yourusername, maxverstappen1

redbullracing We're ready for the Monaco Grand Prix as Y/n takes her first-ever pole position with Max locking out the front row in P2 🥳

view comments

user literally can't wait for the race

user i wonder if y/n will be able to keep p1 🤔

↪ user i mean at least she'll have an advantage on a track like monaco 🤞

user rbr 1-2 loading...

liked by redbullracing

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 998,574 others

yourusername je ne peux pas le croire, mais c'est la réalité 💫 aujourd'hui est le plus beau jour de ma vie. merci aux fans, mon équipe, mes amis, ma famille... je n'ai pas de mots pour ma joie 🇲🇨🥇

[ i can't believe it, but it's reality 💫 today is the best day of my life. thank you to the fans, my team, my friends, my family... i don't have words to describe my joy 🇲🇨🥇 ]

view comments

charles_leclerc notre étoile et notre championne ❤️🤍 [ our star and our champion ❤️🤍 ]

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl

pierregasly félicitations! mon portefeuille est prêt 🫡 [ congratulations! my wallet is ready 🫡 ]

↪ yourusername haha je veux du homard [ haha i want lobster ]

maxverstappen1 if someone else had to win at least it's you 🙄

↪ maxverstappen1 jk great job y/n! looking forward to racing you

↪ yourusername awwww tysm maxie 🥰

danielricciardo fantastic driving! guess i lost the bet 😅

↪ yourusername time to make good on your word, ricciardo. i want that falsetto to be PERFECT

↪ charles_leclerc do i want to know what's going on?

↪ yourusername daniel said that if i placed higher than max today he'd go karaoke-ing with us AND that he'd do a cover of heart attack 😇

↪ charles_leclerc oh dear...

↪ maxverstappen1 please no i don't need a repeat performance from monaco 2018

↪ danielricciardo too late, max, i'm a man of my word!

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist

[weaselle]

Let's dream. These are the things i think should be provided to the public for free

Food Centers:

it's not fancy and there's not a high variety, heck it's basically just rice, beans, some fruit juice, and the vegetable of the month, but you can go to any food center and get, for free, the baseline nutrition you need for staying alive and healthy. This food is available, for free, in any amount, in both raw and cooked forms, as Food Centers are both storage and cooking facilities. Some diet alternatives are made available for those with, for example, allergies or food related mental issues, tho this may require registering with whatever Food Center you plan on visiting ahead of time. And of course baby formula, baby food, and clean water.

Public Hospitals:

And yes this includes ALL medical treatments physical or mental. Any person, at any time, for any reason, can walk into a Public Hospital and receive the best medical care available. No paperwork (i mean they do keep your medical records on file etc but there is no paperwork for the patient to fill out). No hoops, no proving anything, no barriers to entry, nothing -- you enter a hospital, you receive medical care, period. Medical transport and mobile medical staff available as needed. Unlike with food, there is no "free tier" because anything less than the best medical treatment available is a crime against humanity. Possibly publicly available bathing facilities attached.

Public Housing:

Government built apartment complexes, first come first served, if it's empty you can move in. All you have to do is register, so that you don't go on a trip and have people move in because the place seemed empty. Probably some regulations like you can't register for more than one permanent residence, maximum of bedrooms equal to the number of people registered plus one, but you can have a temporary second apartment on a weekly basis, subject to availability - so like, you can go on a trip for a week, and then extend the trip by a week, and then maybe you want to extend a third week and you get told sorry there are now people waiting for a permanent residence in this area, temp residence at this location is no longer available until new housing units are completed. Something like that.

Information.

This is basically free school (through college) but i call it Information because I believe internet access and libraries, and press/public broadcasting also belong on this list

Clothing:

It isn't high fashion, it might be little more than socks, shoes, blankets, and government issued jumpsuits in hot and cold weather variants, but nobody is going to be left without clothing if they need it. Probably a small distribution center attached to each Food Center. People often forget about this one, but it's important.

Public Transportation:

what it says on the tin. Comprehensive, networked, including something like a (free) taxi program attached to train depots servicing rural areas that lack infrastructure or population density for even busses (so like, there might not be a train station in Lewistown Montana, but you can still get transported to Billings and catch a train)

BUT HOW WILL WE PROVIDE / PAY FOR THESE THINGS?

glad you asked

first of all there will still be taxes, because there will still be jobs, because almost nobody is going to want to wear the government issued jumpsuits and eat nothing but rice and beans. These things will keep you alive and healthy, but almost everyone is going to want their favorite foods and to be dressed fashionably, etc etc etc. You'll have hobbies you want to pay for, you'll have special dates you want to go on, people will want to live in their dream home... humanity is going to WANT THINGS, and so there will still be work and pay and money and taxes. There will even still be rich people and poor people if economic ladders are your kink, it's just now nobody will ever die of being poor. And if this is what we're getting, i do not care if the taxes are at like 65%, as long as the wealthy and the corporations are paying it too, but let's try to get it done for 50% for easy math. And we don't have to do all that complicated shit about this person should only pay less than that because they are poor or whatever, because a person could have zero money and still be basically ok. Just. 50% across the board.

BUT ALSO. We have resources. Do you know who owns all the offshore oil? Do you know who owns all the national forests that get logged for wood? We do. It's pubic property that our government leases to private companies to sell us back our own stuff. So maybe we should handle our resources differently.

AND. Labor. I've written about this before, but, i say instead of the unending argument about military spending, we increase the military budget, but we use them as a public work force here at home. Only about 10% of the US military is combat personnel. The other 90ish percent have jobs like Forklift Operator, Computer Engineer, Doctor, Mechanic, etc. So let them have some more funding, and let's get them building our government housing and staffing our Food Centers etc.

And sure, it probably wouldn't work perfectly, it would need constant management and innovation to continue to function. But it's not like our current system is working very well, right? Current system sucks so much that in Chicago alone every year senior citizens die because they have to choose between freezing or paying for their medicine. So we don't really have anything to lose. I mean most of us don't anyway. Might take some pitchforks and torches to convince the corporate oligarchy, the political puppets and their billionaire puppeteers.

oh, and

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

It takes a mob part 2

part one is here.

part 3 is here.

Bill was honestly considering the store up as hostage as he glared at the isle.

30 dollars for the cheapest can of formula?? 20 for diapers??

Jesus this had to be considered gouging at this point.

Bill felt another headache begin to throb as he tried his best to decipher the difference between brands. 

‘Not a day of health class Bill,’ he grimaced as he gently shook one oof the cans. ‘Yet here you are.’

Bill never saw himself for fatherhood, he may have pondered it once or twice in his years but only in that sort of abstract way that one ponders throwing your favorite cup. It would be stupid to do, but for a moment or two tempting.

Then he got tangled up into the goon lifestyle and any notion of that pondering went out the building.

There were enough kids in Gotham without father figures, no use accidentally making another one if he slipped up.

‘And look all that thinking led yah Billy,’ his old man droned on in his head, ‘all the work, non’ of the fun. that don’t make a happy man son.’

Bill was half tempted to open that old burner phone; it sat in his breast pocket.

Even if all that would answer would be the machine.

But no, Bill had this.

‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ he pondered as he put the tin in the cart, ‘watching three kids.’

they weren’t his after all.

He found his cohorts in the next isle shaking various items at the kid.

“What in the name of Crime Alley are you two idiots doing?”

“Oh, hey Bill!”

Ken didn’t even turn to face him, what kind of etiquette were they training these guys with? 

“Again, what the fuck are you doin’? I asked you two to pick out a couple outfits for the tyke.”

“annnd we did!” Marv chuckled handing over a bundle of cloth, “We just thought that the kid deserve somethin’ cute for being so good to us is all.”

“Actually Bill, mind throwing in your two cents? which one do you think Dan would prefer the rabbit or the frog?’

Bill pinched his brow,

“I don’t know man, what difference does it make?”

“What difference?! Man, this is his first toy we’re talking about!” Ken exclaimed,

“This is a big deal! If he’s anything like my Me Mah told me I was than he’s going to be carrying it for years!’

Danny for his part blew a bubble with his mouth, great input kid.

“I- the rabbit, I guess! I dunno, maybe he’ll like Alice in wonderland or some shit.”

Marv seemed to perk up at the thought.

“Hell yeah brother! Boss likes those old books anyways, so he probably won’t notice if we borrow a copy for a bit!”

Ken snorted as he casually thew the frog back on the shelf,

“Marven, in case you forgot, Boss is very careful with those books of his. If you want to risk it, I won’t stop you but it’s your fingers on the line man.”

“Aww, anything for our lil’ Danny!”

The clerk raised an eyebrow but kept their mouth shut as the three goons went to pay. They kept their mouth shut as Bill paid in crumpled bills and let them get on their way.

“Yeah, well pass Ken wonderlad will you? This shit isn’t going to carry itself.”

Danny babbled as they tried to sort everything into a carriable position. He shook his new toy too a fro in an almost comical manner. Like he was giving orders before an ops.

Eventually they made headway and started to make their way back to crime alley. Only for Bill to raise a occupied hand to stop the others in their step.

“Wait a moment.. where are we heading? It’ll be suspicious if we head back to base. We clocked out hours ago.”

Marv shook his head,

“Can’t go back to my place, Gwen just got done with a double shift in the ER.”

“Kenny?”

Ken snorted and shook his head as well,

“We can try but we all know Me Mah is packin’ and not scared to point first if she doesn’t expect company.”

“Then where the hell are going to go?”

Bill didn’t like how the two of them were suddenly staring at him,

“No.”

“Aww come on Bill!”

“Nope. Nah ah”

Ken rolled his eyes kicked at his shin,

“It’s just for one night Bill. Tomorrow we can ask around with the other guys, but it’s not like we have many options right now.”

“My apartment is like the least kid friendly place in the neighborhood!”

Danny have a little wine as he shoved his face into Ken’s shoulder,

“Bill..”

‘Fuck…’

Bill pinched his nose as he closed his eyes, if only to block out the puppy eyes Marv was sending his way. For a big lug, it was stupid how effective they were.

“Fine… One night and you two owe me a favor after this.”

The two dumbasses actually let out a cheer loud enough to wake a nearby dog.

Leading the way Bill couldn’t help but wonder if it was too late to go to bar like they planned.

~~~~~~~~~

Hoodlums:

​@reinluna,@confused-moose-child,@mimilikey,@emeraudesfateandfandoms, @dolfay, @boredomfarie, @aconitewolfbane, @withoutcontxt, @onyxlightdragon, @satanicrutialspecialist, @phoenixdemonqueen, @vixen-uchiha, @skulld3mort-1fan, @bytheoldwillowtree, @illusionwolfwriter24r8, @thewonderoflebanon, @vipower001, @autumnwulf,

[imbecominggayer]

How To Write A Redemption Arc (Masterpost)

Everyone knows that redemption arcs are the most popular things since love triangles. And everyone is desperate to shove one of this in there.

But as someone who reads bad writing for a living, you need my advice. So inexperienced writer, let me be your Virgil as I guide you through the rings of fire and let you enter heaven!

What Is A Redemption Arc?

Basically, a redemption arc is when a morally bad character overcomes their flaws to be a better person.

What typically seperates someone from "character arc" into "redemption arc" is the fact that their sins are a lot heavier and their moral failing were an initially big part of their character identity. There's also a tighter emphasis on public opinion.

Redemption formulas aren't just villain to hero. An anti-hero can experience a redemption arc. This can include things that aren't just violent crime such as addiction, manipulation, and a mental health crisis.

Sometimes characters have corruption arcs AND redemption arcs!

Creating The Character And Their Crimes

When it comes to characters that eventually get redeemned, you need to be thoughtful in their character creation. They need to be likeable or atleast have the capacity to be likeable. And you have to strike a balance between their potential for good and wrongoing.

Obviously, you need to flesh out their character if you are exploring their psyche. This is a character who is abandoning everything they have ever know, it needs some type of justification or it won't make sense. A common justification is the different between what they wanted and what they needed.

For example: A character wants power but they really needed friendship. A character wants societal acceptance but they really need confidence.

Next, what are their crimes? Consider how severe their offenses are and give them some moral boundaries that will prevent them from going over the moral event horizon.

Common Pitfalls:

Irredeemable: Writers often times write irredeemable characters and then throw in a hail mary of a save that is annoying to read. Readers won't bat an eye at war crimes but if their darling is hurt, they won't put the pitchfork down.

Lack Of Characterization: What are their habits? What makes them feel proud? What do they care about?

Lack Of Justification: Write down exactly why this character wants redemption. I don't care how long that essay is, write it.

Making Readers Sympathize With Assholes: Sometimes readers don't want to watch you explain away abusive behavior. Sometimes they just want the villains to fall off a cliff.

Do They Deserve Redemption?

Motivations. It's not about what they do but why they did it.

Common justifications include:

Seeking revenge

Seeking approval

Desperation for companionship led them to getting mixed up with the wrong crowd

Hurting, and taking that out on others

Manipulated

Trying to pay off a debt

Trying to solve a problem in society, "for the greater good"

Stuck in a cycle of abuse

Remember, show a character's capacity for empathy or logic. It's that little capacity that allows a character to grow and change. My redeemed character, Jukka lacks empathy but does possess logic while my other redeemed character, Verne lacks logic but does have empathy.

Another hint for the audience is making a character unhappy at the beginning of the story. Or they are simply bad at being evil (Cedric cough cough)

Why Are They Like This?

Unhappy people don't act out this way. Somewhere along the way, this character probably experienced something bad and now they are the way they're.

Although it's not necessary for a character to have explicit trauma in their past in order to have a redemption arc, pity is a strong emotion in readers.

A way to not have trauma but still keep pity on their side is a cruel, conditionally loving society that adores all the worst values or distorts good values. A character that needs acceptance from society is a pitiful one!

What Makes Them Change?

We have how they are, we know what they are, we know why they are, and now we need to know why they will change!

Common motivations include:

A reminder that a loved one wanted something different from them.

Swayed by reasoning/coercion/empathy from an outside party

A reevaluation on what course of action is the most efficient

A sudden string of mistakes or bad events that are caused directly by their fatal flaws

Wanting to win the affection of a crush

Jealous of other people's friendships

Having their needs fulfilled by the good guys

A desire to do right by their loved ones

This can evolve over time but it's good to get the initial stuff sorted out!

Remember: Give your character a wake-up call. Force them into the heart of the pain they've caused. Have loved ones crying at their knees, begging them to stop.

Who Are They Seeking Redemption From?

A character seeking redemption would seek approval from the people they most hurt. This could be a singular character such as a friend or love interest, a whole community, or even themselves

The most common pitfall is having the character be forgiven instantly. In reality and as should be in fiction, characters shouldn't be quick to forgive. And someone won't ever forgive.

Be Sympathetic But Not Too Much

Don't jump straight into your character being a good person. Set them up as a real big antagonist and watch all the bravado slowly chip away.

Sacrifice And Fall Again

Your character needs to suffer for their improvement. There are some thing they can never get back. They lost all their friends who were completely devoted to the cause. They lost their social standing. They lost their entire identity and have to start all over again.

By "fall again", let this struggle mean something. Have your character relapse back into problematic behavior.

Have them fully relapse back into who they were. Completely abandon who they are becoming and let them go back to the dark side. Let them realize how nostalgia made them blind to all the pain in evil. Let them realize how the system won't accept them anymore. Let them realize there is no way to get back the things they've sacrifice.

If they aren't fully relapsing, let them act defensive. Let them say something they don't mean. Let them feel they are being needlessly critized. Let them doubt if they can be good. Let them mourn who they were. Let them think about the past. Let them feel frustrated that things aren't happening quick enough.

Positive Change And The Happiness Of Recognition

Once your character has suffered climbing up the mountain, they deserve to see the beautiful view.

Maybe they sit under an oak tree as they marvel about the beautiful sight that had previously withered underneath their oppression.

Maybe they smile at the children who won't have to experience their tyranny

Maybe they cry a little bit when a stranger hugs them in appreciation for the great work they are doing

Maybe they hold their friend's hand and think about how strange it is that they can both live together like this.

Let them recognize how everyone is different and the same. They still like their old brand of fashion. They still have issues that thrive in this newer world. They even have same the same beliefs. But it's calmer now. It's a thorn covered rose and not an entire rose bush of thorns.

They are still recognizable as what they once used to be. But now they are a flower in bloom.

[simmerandwrite]

Sink Into Me - 07 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size!reader

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06  07 08 09

Wordcount: 7.9k

Warnings: some violence in this one, vague references to drugging at a club (not to reader), feelings

Notes: thank you for your patience, beautiful people!! let's goooo.

---

If Steve looked inward for more than a spare second, he could unpack the heavy feelings that sat on his chest. But, he wouldn’t allow himself even that miniscule moment in time to think. Instead, it suddenly made way more sense to throw himself into work - from selling buildings to working on art curation to all the dirty things he did behind the scenes. If he wasn’t working, he was sleeping or working out or drinking at Shield. 

On this particular day, he was taking care of new business.

“What did we fucking say about selling this shit in Brooklyn?”

Steve almost felt bad for the guy he was slamming his fist into. Steve had absolutely broken his nose, maybe cracked his jaw. 

But, Steve had the upper hand here. The shithead was tied up to a metal chair, in the basement of one of Steve’s oldest properties. 

Thor had picked the guy up selling products near Brighton Beach. It was the third idiot working for Rumlow that had been caught crossing boundaries and pushing their new formula. It was one thing to not converse with Steve and confirm his cut. It was another to prey on high school kids. 

Steve reached for the guy's collar. “Do you need a reminder?”

He growled under Steve’s fist. “Your precious kingdom is going to crumble.” The man sucked in a breath and leaned forward, spitting a mournful of blood at Steve. 

Although electricity was climbing through every inch of Steve’s body, he remained stoic. Slowly, he wiped off the remnants of blood from his neck and shirt. Then Steve took in a sharp breath and delivered a kick to the man’s chest, sending the chair stumbling backward to the ground. With a clap of his hands, he turned around and pointed at Thor and Bucky. Both men were watching from the doorway of the dingy basement. 

“Call your brother and tell him to peel this man apart for information about Rumlow’s operation.” Steve planted a hand on Thor’s shoulder. 

“I’m on it, boss. But Loki will want cash and—”

“Pay him whatever he needs.” Steve finished off, confirming with a nod before leaving with Bucky. “Make sure he gets rid of the body afterwards.”

Bucky remained silent as he followed Steve up the stairs, matching his pace as they headed towards an awaiting car outside. It wasn’t until they were well on their way back to the club, in the thick of traffic that Bucky spoke up. 

“You good?”

Steve, who had been staring out the window, turned his head back to his friend. “I’m fine.”

“Because usually you let the boys get dirty.” Bucky pointed out the remaining marks of blood that littered Steve’s chest. “And calling in Laufeyson..”

“I want to clean up this fucking mess that’s found it’s way into our streets, Bucky. Don’t you think I know what I’m doing?”

“Of course I do, you idiot. Don’t fucking yell at me, too. Christ. You’re wound up because you made a mistake. Don’t take it out on us.”

Steve didn’t even bother replying. Because Bucky was right. 

Steve was angry. At himself. 

--

God, you were grateful for your friends. If you didn’t have them in your corner, you knew that everything with Steve might have sunk you down way further than you wanted. In fact, you knew damn well that if you let yourself slow down and think for a few minutes, the pain you had been so easy to dismiss might come roaring back to life.

But, there wasn't time to slow down. Not when your evenings became a delicate balance of work, walking Hercules then meeting up for some sort of exciting activity in the city. 

Pietro certainly had a penchant for finding fun things to do. Somehow he had a better pulse of the city than you and your friends who actually lived there. Your group chat was constantly buzzing with suggestions about markets to check out or special nights at certain bars or clubs or after party events with Pietro’s coworkers. 

It was a welcome distraction most days. But other days, all you wanted to do was have a pity party on your own. Even though you knew you deserved better than the way Steve had called things off, part of you kept wondering about how it all played out. One night after a night out with your friends and one too many glasses of white wine, you had gone into a deep, dark Instagram spiral.

Steve himself didn’t have any kind of personal social media presence. But someone managed one for his gallery and another one for Shield too. You scrolled through every post for a glimpse of him and every time some version of him showed up in a photo, your heart got a little more cracked open. 

Once you made it through the entire main feed of images, you dug deeper. The tagged photos for Shield had plenty of activity, including a recent slew of images from a weekend event at the club. One photo had Steve in it - you were sure, though he wasn’t facing the camera. It was in the background of some beautiful brunette’s photo and you knew it was upstairs in one of the VIP areas of Shield.

You were going crazy over it. Why did he have to end it the way he did? How come you didn’t get any other conversation or closure over the whole thing?

After a long day at work and an extra long walk home with Hercules, you had decided it was time for a night in. Thankfully you hadn’t heard any activity in the group chat all day, so you were very much looking forward to some time on the couch with your favourite bowl of pasta. 

Just as you got home, a crack of thunder sounded out and you knew a summer storm was imminent. You wouldn’t consider yourself someone who romanticized the rain - in fact, you hated thunderstorms. Since childhood you had connected storms to danger and darkness, and although now you were at home safe in your own apartment, you had never felt more alone and unsettled.

You remedied the uncomfortable feelings as best as you could - quickly calling your mother to talk while you made dinner. And when you had finally plated your food, you dropped onto the couch with Hercules and sent out an SOS to the group chat.

Claire was at work. Maria was at home uptown in Manhattan, waiting out the storm. And Wanda revealed she was out on a date with Vision, hiding out from the rain at some lavish restaurant uptown.

You groaned. Your lights flickered.

In an attempt to calm down, you tried to lose yourself in some reruns of your favourite show. It wasn’t working very well - especially with an anxious Hercules at your side who was not enjoying the storm outside, either.

Looks like you had to be the strong one, for the sake of your son.

“We’re gonna be okay, buddy,” you cooed as you cuddled in close to Hercules. “This storm shall pass or whatever.”

Your moment of wisdom was cut off when your phone started to buzz on the coffee table. You picked it up to see Pietro’s face on the screen.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hey!” He called out on the other end of the phone. You could hear the rain. “I’m a block away. Please tell me you have dry towels?” 

You stood up and shook your head, confused. Had you made plans that you forgot about? Most weeknights Pietro was at the restaurant until close and–

“Wanda said you hate storms and we lost power at the restaurant. So I’m coming over to hang! I have desserts.”

He didn’t even let you argue, doubling down on the rain and how he wanted to hang out. It was strange though - of course you considered Pietro your friend, you just had never hung out one on one before. You hadn’t really assumed you were friends like that - moreso that you were friends with Wanda and he came along with that transaction. But you really enjoyed being around him. Pietro’s extraversion benefited you regularly and well, you definitely did not want to be alone in the storm anyway.

You greeted Pietro at the door with a dry towel, although his was in good spirits despite his damp clothing. 

“You didn’t have to come over,” you told him as you unpacked the paperbag he had brought from the restaurant. “I’m surviving.”

“Sure. But who else can I talk to about this boring philosophical PhD my sister is dating again?” Pietro flashed you his signature charming smile, peeling off his wet sweater and following your arms to toss it in your dryer. “What kind of name is Vision anyway?”

“I only met him once or twice,” you replied with a small smirk. “They really hit it off - though she never said why they had ruptured in the first place.”

“Well, as her older brother, I’m cautious. I deserve to know about the guy, it’s giving me even more grey hair to think about her dealing with some dumb man.”

You laughed. “Aren’t you like - 10 minutes older?”

“Twelve, actually.” He turned and headed back towards the counter. “This is for you by the way - packaged up by M’Baku himself.”

Glancing down at the to-go box, containing a particularly delectable slice of cheesecake, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “What?”

On more than one occasion you, Wanda and occasionally Maria or Claire had headed to the restaurant past closing to hang out while Pietro and his coworkers finished up for the evening. Mostly you sat at the bar and sipped on a cocktail while the kitchen crew finished up. A few nights ago, you had done exactly that and after the restaurant was closed, instead of heading out like you had planned, you all stayed and played cards and shared a few of the leftover dishes. Somehow, one of the kitchen staff had sat with you - the prep cook, M’Baku - and if you had been in a clear state of mind and heart, you might have thought you and him had hit it off.

M’Baku had probably even been flirting with you. But since Steve had crushed your confidence, you had a hard time believing that was possible. 

“He also asked me for your number,” Pietro added in, breaking you from your thoughts as you both sat back on the couch again. “If you want, I can text him right now and..”

You sighed. “I don’t know if I want to… do that. Date or.. Even think about dating. This is really nice of him, though.” With a glide of your fork, you grabbed a corner of the cake and smiled. “Reallllly nice.”

“You don’t have to date the guy,” Pietro countered, tipping his head to the side to meet your gaze. “Nothing wrong with having a little harmless fun.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Unfortunately, I was not blessed with a harmless fun gene, unlike you and Wanda.” You nudged him with your elbow. “The cheesecake is great though. Tell him thanks!”

---

“Are you sure this outfit is restaurant soft open slash after party appropriate?” 

Wanda rolled her eyes at you in the mirror, shooting you a smile. “Piet said it was casual. Don’t overthink it.” She finished off fixing her lipstick and turned. “You look great.”

Now you were rolling your eyes. You had picked out a casual summer dress to combat the heat, but you still weren’t sure. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but after everything with Steve, all your confidence and self esteem hadn't really recovered. The way he had talked to you with such promise and excitement about your body, only to… 

No, no. It wasn’t fair to do that to yourself. You had to try and let it go. You had a fun night ahead.

Although your exciting social lives had slowed down a bit, Pietro still managed to talk you into some after work activities. On this particular Friday, you and Wanda were meeting up with him to visit some new restaurant that had recently opened. Surprising to no one, Pietro had befriended the guy who supplied their restaurant all their alcohol and the guy had gotten Pietro an invite to some soft opening event. Pietro and a few plus ones, even.

You slipped into your shoes and watched as Wanda finished pacing around her apartment gathering her things. “Where are we going anyway?” 

Wanda glanced down at her phone. “He just sent me the location - somewhere in Bedstuy I guess. C’mon, we can get the next train.”

When you got off the subway and started towards whatever address Wanda was following in her phone, a weird little twist of discomfort swirled in the pit of your stomach. No, it couldn’t be possible. Sure, you were in your old neighbourhood. And yes, if you turned down the next street on the right you’d –

“It’s down here,” Wanda tipped her head down that next street on the right.

Wilson’s Kitchen.

You slowed your feet down nearly and finally came to a complete stop before you approached the restaurant. Noooo. No. The last time you had been down this street, outside of this exact building - a car had come barreling off the sidewalk and changed your life.

You let out a silent groan, shaking your head as you saw Pietro and some people from his restaurant wave to you from outside the place.

Wanda glanced over her shoulder, reaching for your hand. “Come on.” She didn’t know all the details and you didn’t have the time or ability to explain it all now. Of course it had to be this restaurant - that Steve owned. Wilson’s… you recognized that as Sam’s last name, but wondered what the connection was?

You wanted to throw up. What if Steve was inside?

“You alright?” It was Pietro who paused as everyone else headed in before you two.

“Yeah..” You took a deep breath. “It’s a long story. Just might need some emotional support here tonight.”

He raised a curious eyebrow but gave you a pointed nod. “Okay, got it. Keep your secrets but did I mention it’s an open bar at least?”

You took a deep breath and decided that you could do hard things, you could do uncomfortable things. Steve didn’t matter! You deserved to live your own best life. You took Pietro’s awaiting hand. “Oh, lead the way then.”

-

As soon as you got inside, you were somehow taken from Brooklyn into a cool bistro from the French Quarter. Pietro gave you a quick low down on the place - a New Orleans fusion menu inspired by the chef’s upbringing in Delacroix. There was trendy exposed brick paired with iron accents and even supplemented by a generous jazzy ambiance floating through the air.

You met up with Wanda who had found a seat at the bar. The rest of the place was quite packed. Servers zipped around the room with trays of food, stopping by the bustling tables and delivering drinks to guests. There wasn’t a set menu or agenda for the evening, but you had to be honest with your friends before things got out of hand.

“Okay, Wan.” You grabbed her hand, sparing a quick glance around the room. “Steve owns this place. If you see him, please give me fair warning.”

“Wait. Who is Steve?” Pietro had planted himself behind you both, waving a hand to the bartender for a few cocktails.

“A dumb man!” Wanda summarized quickly, turning directly in her seat to scan the crowds too. 

“A dumb man I dated a while back..” You squished your face, then tried to shake away all your thoughts. “He was a jerk at the end.”

“Boooo..” Pietro threw his arm around you and squeezed. “There is still time for me to give your number to–”

“No, no.” You grabbed his hand where it sat on your shoulder. “Let’s just have fun, okay? No more thoughts about Steve.”

You had a perfectly lovely night. The food you sampled was incredible and the drinks were damn delicious. You even had the opportunity to meet Sarah, the head chef - who gushed about the evolving menu and how excited she was to have community kitchen days on the weekend to feed the neighborhood. 

“It is a great location,” you replied, pivoting slightly in your stool to speak with her. Wanda and Pietro had ducked outside for some air.  “I used to live a few blocks from here.”

Before you got any further, someone was saddling up beside her, dropping a hand over her shoulder. “Great turnout, sis.”

You offered Sam an awkward smile as he realized you two had been talking. He faltered for a second, glancing over his shoulder before finally giving you a greeting. “Oh, hey. It’s.. good to see you.” Sarah seemed to take this as an opportunity to excuse herself back to the kitchen, so you had to continue with Sam on your own.

“A friend of mine had an invite.” For some reason you felt you had to immediately defend yourself, even though he didn’t ask why you were there.

Sam let out a long breath and lifted a shoulder to shrug. “Listen, I don’t need to repeat the speech about how much of a fucking idiot Steve is.” He sighed then leaned back to the end of the restaurant. “He is here though, with a group in the back dining room.”

You tried not to give yourself away with your body language, but suddenly you felt even more on edge than you had before. You hadn’t seen Steve yet and it didn’t mean you were going to see him now. But knowing he was only a few walls away from you.. Well, it both worried you and also it seemed to stoke that weird feeling in your stomach into fiery anger.

“Thanks for the heads up, Sam.” 

“Sam! What’s the hold up? Did you get a hold of Sean?”

Then, like some stick twist of fate, a quiet commotion started out of the back room. You couldn’t help but turn on your stool again and look in that direction along with Sam.

And there, sticking his head out the door with a big grin on his face, as waves of laughter and clinking glasses sounded out behind him, was Steve. Even though you could only see part of his torso, you knew he was probably donning some sharp suit jacket and you wanted to scream.

It felt like time slowed down as you met Steve’s eyes - though he was far away, it felt like he was looking right into your soul. His jaw stilled, then snapped shut and before either of you really had a moment to process what was happening, you looked away and rushed to your feet. 

You mumbled out some rushed goodbye to Sam then immediately headed outside to find Wanda and Pietro.

They were standing near the front window - Wanda with a cigarette in one hand and her phone in the other. Pietro glanced up from his own phone when you shuffled up beside them. He raised an eyebrow at your distressed face.

You took a deep breath. “I saw Steve.”

Wanda turned and dropped her cigarette, stomping it out and reaching for your hand. “Auuugh. But you survived, babe. Shit. Are you okay? Does he look terrible?”

You just shrugged. “No, he looked great. Even from afar.” A dramatic groan left the pit of your stomach. “God, he’s the worst.”

Wanda’s phone started to buzz and she glanced from it to the street. “Ah, Vis is here. We were gonna go to.. Let me just send him off.”

“No, no.” You squeezed her hand. “Just go. I’ll call an Uber.”

“I’ll make sure she gets home,” Pietro jumped in, giving Wanda a quick side hug. “Have fun! Be safe!”

Wanda pretended to falter for a second, then threw her arms around you before darting off to the awaiting car. 

You let out another long sigh and leaned against the nearest wall, shaking your head as Pietro stepped in front of you. “I think I need to head home - but you can stay, I’ll be fine.”

He watched you closely. “I’m sorry. For whatever that asshole said to you - for you to feel this way now. You’re a catch.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you. “I don’t think I am, but I appreciate your kindness, Piet.” Behind you both, a pair of black SUVs pulled up. They were definitely Steve’s. “Augh, I need to get out of here.”

Pietro looked over his shoulder at the vehicles, then back into the restaurant through the window. “Or.. wait. Is that his ride? He has to come out this way?” 

You could see some sort of plan was forming in his head. “What are you scheming about now?”

Pietro grinned, taking a step closer to you. “Harmless fun, my friend. Flirt with me?”

“What?” Your eyes grew wide. “We can’t. You don’t actually want to..”

“Miláčik, please. If that dumb idiot man is going to walk out here, let him see you perfectly distracted by someone else without a care in the world.”

“Piet, there are so many other girls I’m sure you’d rather flirt with.”

“No, actually. I would love to flirt with you. But my sister said I cannot date her friends and I’m going back to Sokovia in a month or so..” He took in a deep breath and stepped forward, tentatively reaching a hand out to rest on your waist. “If neither of us want to date, at least let’s..”

The door opened and suddenly, you didn’t have time to even process Pietro’s words. Instead, you wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him as close to you as possible. And, well, he wasted no time trailing his lips against your neck as one hand wrapped around your waist. The other he used to cradle against your jaw.

“Can you see him?” Pietro whispered against your neck, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “I don’t really care about that man but if this helps you..”

You tried not to make your shifting eyes very obvious but yes, in the large group of people walking out of Wilson’s Kitchen, just ten feet away from you - there was Steve. 

He met your eyes again, extending his arm for someone else to get into the car before him. But this time, you didn’t look away. Instead, you scratched your hand against Pietro’s neck and laughed.

Time slowed down again as Steve eventually tore his eyes from yours, ducking his head to get into the back of the vehicle.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the cars finally pulled away. 

With a firm pat, you tried to bring Pietro back to earth. He lingered close enough to you that your lips were nearly touching. He grinned. “Sorry if that was too much.”

“It was..” You relaxed your shoulders and leaned back again, resting your forehead against Pietro’s. “..exactly what I needed.” A silly shield, a defensive mechanism against Steve.

He laughed, quiet. “Good. I’m glad. And is there anything else you might need tonight?”

“Just someone to get me home safely. And maybe..” Leap of faith, leap of faith. “We flirt some more. At home. On my couch.”

-

You knew you were making a choice. God, when was the last time you had been the one to suggest going to a club on a Saturday night? You could practically hear Maria rolling her eyes on the other side of the phone, but you knew she’d be on board. Claire was immediately into the plan too, and it only took a few more minutes to get Wanda and Pietro in on the event.

And the fact that you suggested Shield, of all places, as your location of choice. Well, that was just a coincidence. If Steve happened to be there, then so be it. It had been months now since you’d broken up and a few weeks since the night at the restaurant, and you knew it was time to move the fuck on. You could go places that Steve might be at. You’d be fine.

It didn’t make you any less nervous, though. The idea of running into him wasn’t exactly something that thrilled you. What if you saw him with another girl? That would hurt. Or worse, what if he just… 

No, no. This wasn’t about Steve. This was about taking yourself back and leaving him behind. 

“Okay, the Uber will be here in four minutes!” Pietro loved being the motivator and sometimes it meant very bad decisions. In this particular instance, it meant one last shot of sour raspberry liqueur before you got to the club. 

You cheers’d your friends, taking one last glance in the mirror by your door and calling out your goodbye to Hercules as you all clambered to the front lobby. 

“You look amazing, did I tell you that?” Claire nudged you with her arm as you lingered outside. “You’ll drive him crazy.” You just laughed, letting the buzz of the alcohol overtake you like a warm blanket. She was right - you did look good. The dress you picked was definitely in your comfort zone but it showed off everything you wanted on display. And your hair had fallen exactly where you wanted it to.

You looked hot. 

Steve Rogers, eat your heart out.

When you got to the front of the line at the club, you immediately regretted the entire plan. And when you met the eyes of the bouncer at the door, Luke, who greeted you with a big smile, you wanted to run in the opposite direction.

“Nice to see you, sunshine,” Luke greeted as he handed you back your ID. “Have a fun night. Don’t get into trouble, alright?”

“That man is a brick house,” Claire laughed, looking over her shoulder back at him when you got inside. “I’d like to know everything about him.”

“Stop that,” you laughed as you looped your arm with hers, following behind Wanda, Pietro and Maria who were heading towards the bar. “He works for Steve.”

“Of course,” Claire nodded, as her grin grew even louder. “You’ve gotta get me in touch with that man later, please.”

“What about Matt?” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing too as you pushed your way closer to your friends as they got to the bar.

“Off again, currently.” Claire sidled up beside Pietro and waved towards the nearest bartender. 

Luckily, you didn’t see Kate or Yelena behind the bar, so you’d be saved from those interactions. Instead, the bartender was someone you didn’t recognize and thankfully they didn’t even look twice at you as Pietro passed out the newly poured drinks. Once you were all sufficiently back into the tipsy but edging on drunk mood, the dance floor was your destination.

God, Pietro was fun. You didn’t have any regrets about how things had gone this summer, that almost whatever that didn’t happen after the restaurant quietly dissipated. Okay, you did make out hard that night - but then you pulled back and sent him on his way home. And the best part, it hadn’t been weird afterwards. You went back to normal, as friends, and you couldn’t have been more grateful for his distraction. Maybe in another life where he actually lived on the same continent as you - things could have been different. But if you thought too hard about it, you also knew you had just been using him to not think about Steve. And that wasn’t fair either. So instead, you decided that having platonic male friends was okay. And if Pietro wanted to dance with you, that’s all it had to mean. 

And Pietro loved to dance.

It wasn’t hard to lose track of time on the dance floor - occasionally a pair would head back to the bar and deliver shots or drinks, but you all mostly sang loud and danced hard. God, your friends were fun - it was mostly a comfortable environment in your own little bubble and the only hands that landed on you were usually from Claire or Pietro. 

You did check in with the real world - glancing around the room to be aware of your surroundings and on more than one occasion you glanced up towards the VIP areas upstairs. 

And although you were trying not to give a fuck about Steve, when you saw him up there standing near the railing, your heart jolted. The view was brief as he stepped away, probably heading to the upstairs bar. 

“Fuck that guy!” Pietro yelled out, pulling your attention back down. 

“She already did,” Claire announced with a big laugh, planting a kiss on your cheek. “You know the only good way to get over him is to get under someone else.”

You laughed along and threw your arms over your friends. Maybe that was true but finding someone to date seemed absolutely awful. Dancing was easier, you didn’t want to think about Steve or dating or anything. 

Suddenly, the back and forth about getting over Steve disappeared. Just a few feet from where you all were dancing, you had a feeling something bad was happening. Your mind was racing as you watched some brute of a man holding up a young girl, helping her walk out of the busy crowd. But it didn’t feel right - the way she tried pushing away from his chest, head lolling to the side. 

“Hey!” Reaching for Claire’s hand, you searched the nearby area to see if anyone else could see what was happening. 

Claire followed your eyes and frowned. “Shit.” She pulled ahead from you and sprung into action. 

“Pietro!” You turned your head and grabbed his shoulder. “Go find a bouncer, fast!” Though you could see he was confused, he nodded and rushed away. 

You caught up with Claire, who was trying to gently get the girl away from the larger man. “Hey, honey. Hi. Do you know this guy?” 

“We’re good here, leave us alone!” The man barked at Claire. “She’s fine. We’re heading out.”

You shuffled over, trying to put yourself between them as Claire tugged the girl away. You reached your hand out to stop the guy from coming closer again. “Leave her alone!”

“Where am I..” The girl mumbled as Claire helped her to stand, moving her hand up to try and steady the girl as Claire looked in her eye. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Do you know that guy?” Claire asked. The girl shook her head. 

A loud snort came from the man. “Jesus Christ, she just agreed to come home with me.”

As he tried to move towards her again, you pressed a hand against his chest to stop him. “Get away from her.”

“Stay out of it, you fat bitch!” He pushed you away, backwards into the crowd as he rushed towards Claire and the girl instead. 

Maybe it was the alcohol surging through your or just your general rage at the male population, but as you found your footing once more, you just went for it. Although the entire scene was turning into a spectacle, you hurried forward and yanked on the guy's shoulder to stop him. 

With a snap of his neck, he turned towards you and growled. “Jesus Christ, don’t you know when to quit?” He grabbed your shoulder then stomped down, smashing his boot onto your foot. “Dumb fucking bit—”

This time when he pushed you back, you landed against someone’s chest. No, someone was pulling you away. 

“Hey, hey - take it easy!” 

Steve. 

Ahead of you, more chaos was unfolding. Sam and Bucky were suddenly fighting the man through the crowd, fists flying as they shouted. Pietro had reappeared with Luke, immediately rushing both Claire and the girl through the bar to some back room. 

“Are you okay?” Steve’s voice came from behind you. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders and shit, were you shaking?

“Hands off,” you finally replied, pulling away from him. He immediately dropped his arms, holding his hands up in defense. You took a step forward then hissed in pain

“Fuck.” You glanced down at your foot, though you could barely see it in the dark lights of the club. It fucking hurt though. 

“Let me help you,” Steve shifted and offered a hand to you. “Please.”

You strained your neck to try and find Pietro or Maria or Wanda, but they seemed to have disappeared too. Begrudgingly, you accepted Steve’s arm under yours as you limped away from the dance floor. 

-

Even if Luke hadn’t messaged Steve to report that you were waiting in line outside, Steve would have spotted you in the crowd. 

Because it was you. 

Your entire being had left an imprint on him and he couldn’t stop himself from searching any crowded room for you, still. Months had gone by since he had hit self destruct but he couldn’t get you off his mind. 

Even though Meredith Russo had been hanging off him throughout the night, Steve’s radar remained on you. Especially whenever anyone got close to you, including that silver haired dude. The way he danced against you, how he made you laugh and blush - it drove Steve mad. He was certain it was the same guy who had his hands all over you outside the restaurant too. Fuck, he hadn’t like that that either.

He considered, briefly, just leaving the club and heading home for the rest of the night. But the moment he saw you, something told him to stay. He did, however, try not to spend his entire night watching you from afar. Especially when he noticed one of your friends looking up towards his section. 

Instead, he focused on only watching from the balcony every now and then. Everytime he refreshed his drink, or got up to greet a guest, he would throw a subtle look downwards to the dance floor. 

Yep, there you were. Still dancing, smiling, not a care in the world. 

Fuck. 

This was what he wanted. To let you go, to save you from his world. But god fucking damnit, the pain in his chest hadn’t subsided at all. 

“Steeeeeve. Wanna dance?” 

Meredith Russo was attractive - Steve wasn’t blind. That didn’t mean he cared even a fraction about her. Yet somehow, every single time he had been out lately - with or without Billy Russo - Meredith seemed to appear too. 

“No.” He clipped his words and turned away from her at the upstairs bar. 

“Okay, how about we just cut to the chase and you take me home then? I’m tired of this game,” Meredith returned to him, planting her feet and staring him down. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

“I don’t want to do anything to you, Meredith. Excuse me.” 

He could hear her starting to respond, though he escaped her soon enough. And then, Sam was calling for his attention from near the staircase. “Steve, come here!”

Steve followed Sam’s pointed hand and realized something was unfolding downstairs on the dance floor. He could see anger building in some oversized man and then there you were, in the middle of it. 

“Shit,” Steve hissed out, calling for Sam and Bucky to follow him as he rushed downstairs. Where the fuck were his security guards? Who was he paying to maintain the safety standards in his establishment if this was occurring in the middle of the room?

“Stay out of it, you fat bitch!”

Steve couldn't move fast enough. 

As they swam through the large groups of people, shouting for some sort of clearance, Steve was just praying that you’d be unscathed. 

 “Jesus Christ, don’t you know when to quit? Dumb fucking bit—” 

All Steve could see was red. The man grabbed you, pushed you, and then you were collapsing backward. 

Steve caught you just in time, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you further away while Sam and Bucky moved ahead to deal with the brute. 

“Hey, hey - take it easy!”

You were shaking in his arms, high on adrenaline and liquor as the scene calmed down. 

“Are you okay?”

You stilled immediately, pulling away from him. “Hands off!”

Steve relented without hesitation, letting you go and watching as you stumbled forward. You winced in pain as you stepped down on your right foot. 

“Fuck.”

Steve sighed and offered his hand to you. “Let me help you. Please.” He worried you were about to fight him too but thankfully you accepted his arm around your shoulder as you hobbled off the dance floor. 

-

Steve didn’t think he’d ever be in this position again - driving you home after a night out. But circumstances were different and following everything that happened at the club, he had insisted. Though it was clear you had your guard way up. 

After dropping off Pietro, Wanda and Maria - Claire had gone to the hospital with the young girl, accompanied by Luke - the quiet hung between you and Steve in his car. 

He hadn’t experienced silence that heavy and loud before. 

You squeaked out a quiet ‘thanks’ as your building approached, but Steve doubled down. 

“Let me help you to your door, at least. You’re limping.”

Truthfully, Steve thought maybe you should go to the ER too. That asshole had really smashed into your foot and an x-ray would probably find a fracture. Christ, he was still fuming over that entire interaction - the image of that man pushing you, yelling in your face, grabbing you.. 

How come Steve hadn’t been able to protect you? How could he let you get hurt like that?

Right. Because it wasn’t his responsibility. 

Fuck. 

“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed to his suggestion. The silence continued otherwise as Steve guided you to the elevator, then in the direction of your apartment. 

Once you fished out your keys from your small purse, you managed to get the door open. Hercules was eagerly awaiting on the other side. 

Steve saw your full body sigh. 

He swallowed hard, waiting outside the doorway still. “I can take him out, if you’d like.”

You avoided his eyes but nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

Even just spending time outside with Hercules caused Steve’s heart to ache all over again. He thought he had suppressed it all - channeling all his complicated feelings until nights out and all his unrelenting rage into his fists. And yet, they bubbled up again without warning just at the sound of your voice. 

God fucking damnit. 

When he returned to your apartment, with a slow, sleepy pup at his side, he contemplated his next move. He knew he should probably just let Hercules back inside and go. But, he was a sucker for punishment. So, he cautiously opened the door and called your name.

Hercules, freed from his leash and collar, bounced towards your bedroom. Steve stepped to the side and peeked through the open door. You were laying flat on your bed, changed into pajamas. He sighed again, retrieving an ice pack from your freezer and moving towards your room.

“You should ice your foot,” he said slowly, offering you the compress. 

You stuck your hand out for him to hand it off, then rested it on your foot without a word. He retreated back towards the door and waited.

Finally, you spoke. “God, I wish I was still drunk.”

Steve let out a breath. “And why is that?”

“Because I have a thousand things to say to you but..”

Steve waited to see if you’d carry on your thought but instead you fell back deeper onto your pillows. He glanced up to the ceiling then took a step further into your room. 

“It’s after 2AM now.” He leaned against the doorframe. “Honesty Hour.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Sure. Go ahead, you start, I guess.”

“Uh, how come you aren’t spending the night with your boyfriend?”

This time your laugh was a lot deeper. “I don’t have a boyfriend, Steve.”

“That silver haired guy?”

“Wanda’s brother. Just a friend. Not that it matters.”

He knew he should keep his commentary to himself, but Steve couldn’t resist. “You let all your friends touch you and dance with you like that?”

You sat up. “That’s none of your business. And at least he danced with me. Unlike you.”

Steve drew in a sharp breath. “Okay, I deserve that.”

You sighed, shifting in your bed to meet Steve’s gaze. “Yeah. You do. The worst part about this entire thing is I feel like I gave you a lot, you know? I was honest and still tried to make it work but you just.. you were mean, Steve.”

He took a step towards your bed. God, he wanted to crawl in beside you. No, those days were long gone. “Sweetheart, I..”

“You were mean. I thought you were different but fuck. It’s funny - Bucky and Sam told me how much of an idiot you are! Like they felt bad, apologetic even. Isn’t that fucked up? But youuuu. You just blocked my number and moved on and you didn’t even say sorry. I fell in love with you! And you didn’t even… God, did you care about me at all? Was this just a big joke to you?”

“Of course I care about you. It’s just.. it’s complicated. My life is complicated, okay? I can’t.. we can’t..” He stepped back again, dragging a hand down his face. “I am sorry.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” With another frustrated groan, you laid back again and turned away from him. “I guess this is the end. So, have a nice life, Steve.”

He wanted to drop to his knees and apologize again, to get at least one last look at you but Steve knew it was too late. 

-

When you woke up the next morning, the entire evening felt like a dream. But as you stepped off the bed and your foot radiated in pain; it all came flooding back.

Shield, drinking, dancing, Steve, the helpless young girl, Steve, that piece of shit stomping on your foot, Steve driving you home, Steve letting out Hercules, arguing with Steve... Steve… Steve Steve Steve

Of course, I care about you. It’s just.. it’s complicated.

Have a nice life, Steve.

You groaned, very slowly throwing on enough clothes to venture outside with Hercules. The more pressure and time you spent standing on your foot, the worse it felt. When you checked in on the group chat and let them know you were alive, Claire insisted you visit her at work to get your foot checked out.

Given how desperately you needed to unload about what happened with Steve, you put yourself together and headed to the hospital.

“Okay, here’s the update. The tech owed me a favour so this one was on the house.” Claire had been a saint and since you were somehow visiting her on a slow morning after her own late night, she had managed to get you through all the paperwork quickly. “The x-ray just showed a teeny tiny fracture. So a tensor and taking it easy should suffice but let’s get the official prognosis.” She stuck her head into the nearby hallway and called for a doctor, by first name. 

God, you appreciated her.

Claire’s doctor colleague confirmed what she had said and advised on rest, ice and Tylenol. If it got any worse, you could return for a cast.

“Maybe just a short walk for Herc tonight,” Claire said with finality, flipping the chart closed and dropping into the chair beside the bed. “Now, I have a ten minute break and need to know what the hell happened with Steve last night. He drove you home?”

Although you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Claire every single detail, it felt good to say it all out loud. Maybe you could sense a fraction of remorse in Steve, but it still left you with such an upsetting feeling. Why was he so curious about who you were dating or not dating? It didn’t matter to him anymore. 

It was bittersweet to think that your actions with Pietro had impacted Steve so much. Not that you needed him to be jealous but it reminded you he was human still. 

Of course I care about you. 

As you made your way back down to the exit, passing through the emergency room and through the main reception of the hospital, someone called your name. The voice was strangely familiar and when you clued in to who it was, your heart sank.

“Sarah! Hi.” You paused at the set of chairs near the door, giving a small awkward wave to Sarah Rogers as she stood to say greet you. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too, sweetie.” She pulled you into a hug and you wanted to melt into the floor. God, how could a woman so sweet raise a son like Steve? Well, no. Maybe that wasn’t a fair question. Before that awful phone call, Steve had proved himself to have traits just like his mother - headstrong, considerate, protective. Damnit. Why did things have to turn out the way they did?

You gave her a soft smile, doing your best to dismiss your plethora of confused thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I volunteer in the palliative ward on the weekends. Usually just a couple hours in the morning.” Sarah motioned to the chairs and invited you to sit. “Do you have a second to talk?”

-

You were running late leaving work - again. God, your boss had been relentless with our workload lately. Gone were the exciting after work adventures from summer. As the fall creeped in and your list of projects grew, you had a feeling more late nights at your desk were in the future. Really, after that night at Shield a few weeks ago, you had pulled yourself back immediately. It had been a while now since you’d done anything beyond a Saturday at the market - which was probably good for your foot, at least.

And now, to make matters worse following your frustrating day at work, there was a thunderstorm in the forecast again. And considering Pietro had just left to go home earlier in the week, you weren’t sure who would be coming to your rescue this time.

You made it to the doggy daycare just minutes before they were closing, apologizing profusely to the girl at the counter as you collected Hercules. When you made it outside and started your walk, you planned out exactly how the rest of your night was going to go: shower, fresh pajamas, ordering in from your favourite Indian place - if they were still open, you needed to check your phone for their hours and–

“Ooof.”

Somehow, only a block before your building, you walked straight into a brick wall of a person. As you mumbled out an apology, you realized it wasn’t just any person, given the hanging tag around his neck. Although he wasn’t in a full patrol uniform, you could see it was someone from the NYPD.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, officer. I wasn’t watching where–”

When he cut you off, reassuring you by saying your name out loud, you narrowed your eyebrows. Wait. What? Why did this officer know who you were? Had he been waiting for you on your route home?

“How do you know my name?” You squeaked out, gripping Hercule’s leash in one hand and your phone in the other. You darted your gaze down to your phone, trying to unlock it.

The man reached out and hit the backside of your hand, sending your phone up and out of your hand. Then, he caught it with a grin. “We need to talk about Steve Rogers.”

--

CHAPTER 05 - CHAPTER 08

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Distracted - Bruce Wayne (Bale) X Female Reader

Title: Distracted

Bruce Wayne (Bale) X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Alfred (Mentioned)

WC: 1,200

Warnings: Homework, Reader doesn't like math, slight suggestiveness, anxiety, flirting, teasing, slight angst, and fluff

You let out a dramatic sigh, resting the palm of your hand on your cheek as you stared down at your college homework. You had been working for a good hour or two… Or three… You lost track of time. Having snuck out of the mansion and down into the Batcave, you were growing bored of sitting in the massive office and thought maybe a change in scenery would help you. It didn't. It was colder in the Batcave, quiet, and slightly eerie. But you didn’t have to get up now. You had just gotten comfy in Bruce’s spinny chair.

The words on the pages began to smear, becoming unintelligible. Your mind felt jumbled and tired as you felt a headache on your temple. Your shoulders slumped, your head leaning back against the chair you sat in. Your eyes closed and you allowed your mind to wander away. You tried not to think about anything that wasn't math. Or physics or chemistry. Or geometry. You hated that one. Anything with numbers… The deep hums of the computers drowned out your thoughts, relaxing you briefly. 

"So, this is where you went off to." You heard, surprising you slightly. You opened your eyes and turned in your seat, watching as Bruce walked along the bridge to you and the computers. "What are you doing down here? I’ve been looking for you." He then asked, stopping beside you, peering down at your homework. “Even Alfred couldn’t find you.”

"Homework," You sighed, sitting back up in the chair, shivering slightly, "I thought I'd use a change in scenery." Leaning forward to lean your elbow on the desk, gazing up at your boyfriend. 

Bruce hummed, bending at the waist, he lent forward against the table to take a look at your work. You watched as his dark focused eyes scanned over each page of your textbook before looking at your homework; eyebrows furrowing slightly as he did so. You found yourself admiring his features, as you often did. His sharp cheekbones and strong jawline, his brown hair slicked back, styled perfectly. Your eyes trailed down to his arms, biceps flexing as he moved to rest his arms on the edge of the table. You couldn't stop staring. He was absolutely breathtaking. How did you ever catch his eye, you’d never know. "Wow," You let out a breathy laugh. "Have you been working out, Bruce?" You teased, knowing about his bat profession. You couldn't help it. You loved to tease him when you could.

"Do you want me to help or not?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and looking over at you.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head lightly, "No, no. Go ahead and help.” You waved your hand before looking back at your work, “ I want to get this over with." You smiled softly. 

Bruce nodded, grabbing your pen from off the desk, "Well, if you see here, you put a nine here... When you should've had it here." He tried to explain, before pointing to a new formula "Now, with this one, you just wrote the wrong one, you see here?"

You hummed along to what he was saying, eyes sliding over your work to gradually land on Bruce’s hands holding your pen as he tapped it along the page of your homework, and you couldn't help but admire them. They were delicate yet strong, calloused from years of fighting crime. Your heart fluttered slightly. You shook your head lightly as you focused back on the equations you had written. Trying to pay attention to what Bruce was saying but your mind drifting. He was incredible, truly. And you couldn't help your eyes from trailing back up his hands and back up to his toned arms. 

“Y/N?” You heard him speak, as if your head was underwater.

"Hmm?" You asked, looking up from his arms and up at him again. "What did you say?" You questioned, blinking slowly as you continued to stare at him.

"You’re staring again." Bruce remarked, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Your cheeks flushed, "Sorry, I'll try and pay attention this time." You chuckled softly, rubbing the back of your neck. "Is there any way we can speed this process up? I'm starting to feel like my brain is going to implode." You joked lightly. “Or turn to jello.” You giggled out, leaning your head against his arm as you looked back down at your homework.

Bruce hummed again, fidgeting with your pen as he thought. "Well, maybe this will help," Bruce began, "All you have to do is plug in this symbol here and into this equation." He pointed to a different formula. "It will solve that problem."

"Are you serious?" You asked, looking up at him from the paper with wide eyes, "That's all I have to do?" You asked in disbelief.

Bruce nodded, "Uh, yeah?"

You suddenly threw your hands in the air, startling Bruce, "Oh my god… That's so simple! My teacher was terrible at explaining it!" You pushed yourself out of the chair, "Even the textbook sucks at explaining it!" Bruce stood up beside you, grinning as he watched as you paced around a bit. You continued to rant about how difficult the schooling system made things be. Puffing out your cheeks, you turned to look up at Bruce, letting out a sigh. "You are such a good teacher." You commented, a slight smile gracing your lips, and a fondness in your gaze.

Bruce smirked slightly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer, "If only the rest of Gotham Academy was as great as me." He remarked. You rolled your eyes playfully and wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling softly at him. 

"It was a terrible idea to compliment you... It went straight to your head." You mumbled, raising a hand to flick Bruce’s forehead.

Bruce chuckled softly, "My ego likes to be appreciated," He said, leaning his face close to yours and pressing his lips against yours. It was slow and sweet, but still passionate enough to set your insides ablaze. A soft moan left your lips, which prompted Bruce to deepen the kiss. His hands wandered up and down your sides until they rested on the small of your back. You gripped onto the front of his olive green shirt tightly. Bruce pulled away after a moment, pressing a few more kisses to your lips before releasing you.

He leaned his forehead against yours, "You want to take a break?" He asked quietly. His voice sounded rough and raspy as he spoke. You felt a blush creeping across your cheeks.

You looked up at him, nodding quickly, "Yeah," You answered softly. "But are you going to actually take a break with me? Or are you going to run off into the night?"

Bruce grinned down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Just for tonight. I think the Commissioner can handle things for now." He assured, taking hold of your hand, and leading you out of the Batcave. "Come on. Alfred must've finished dinner by now."

You gently squeezed his hand in return, leaving your homework far behind.

[homestuck-fanauthor-coalition]

John Ruins a Wedding [MSPFA]

Tags: homestuck, alternate, post-credits, john, ruins, a, wedding, caliborn, is, also, in, this Based on a true story

Your name is JOHN EGBERT. You are an increasingly isolated young adult living alone in a house you once shared with your late father, which sounds like the perfect formula for a QUARTER-LIFE CRISIS, but nah, you're good. You cannot reliably mark crises by the portion of your life that has gone by anyway, seeing as you are CONDITIONALLY IMMORTAL.

It is a balmy summer evening. You are watching a random episode of a NONDESCRIPT FICTIONAL ACTION DRAMA CRIME SERIES and not paying very much attention. What will you do?

> John: Admire Owen Wilson photo.

~~~

@sg-s3c , one of the newer members of our Coalition, brings us this delightful fanadventure!

[bug-oc]

Bug Fables OC Tournament Round 5

Marigold (she/her) from @mantisgodsdomain

Marigold is a hawk moth and a witch, initially made for a short fic in which Mothiva has an extremely bad day involving a certain amount of Leif's Request Spoilers, loss of limb, and loss of almost all processes generally associated with being alive (she's fine, it's just a minor setback). Located in the Ant Kingdom's Outskirts, she is a curious, cheerful, and scientific bug, experimenting to the utmost of her field - magic involving transmutation of the flesh.

The field she lacks in, of course, is morals.

Transmuting a bug properly needs test subjects - bugs to run through new formulas, test variations, see what happens with a new form of triggering a transformation into something else. What more convenient place to get those than by cornering a random bystander and seeing what happens once they've taken it for you?

Many bugs, of course, are not particularly happy about suddenly being transformed into, say, a shambling mass of flesh. Marigold isn't the most gifted, as far as self-defence goes, and combat brews are a bit of a waste of time - why fight your wayward experiments when you can get someone else to do it for you? Looking soft and innocent means that a potential bystander will be far more likely to believe her when she says that a beast attacked her, and depending on the form, any victim may simply lack the means to protest.

Up against one tiny, unarmed moth, it's clear who the aggressor must have been - and if you build a good enough reputation with the neighbors, even bugs who can still talk will find former friends and family siding against them. After a certain point, it's obvious they're not who they claim to be - it's all social engineering, anyways.

Of course, any research needs funding - the criminal elements of Bugaria especially have plenty of use for making a bug vanish without generating a body, and Marigold's brews are permanent, if the client doesn't specify otherwise. For a bit of pay, you can vanish nearly anyone you want - without that pesky guilt that comes from actually killing them! All at the small, small cost of funding a local business.

Marigold herself would not personally consider any of her actions to be immoral in any way, which is how you know she's a good candidate in any public-opinion-based polls. She is exactly the bug you want in order to eliminate any pesky competitors - and, of course, exactly the sort of trustworthy and morally upright bug that any community needs.

Fuse (he/him) from @monsterhatdoodles

While not technically a bug fables oc, Fuse is a bug and also a force of nature so I think he should be allowed to participate. Fuse is a tiny man who commits big crimes and even bigger explosions. While a genius mechanic, Fuse has very little common sense, and has blown himself up more times than he'd like to admit. You can even see him in action in my webtoon, doodlebugs! (shameless plug) He's a gremlin and therefore deserves votes.

[zenlesszonezero]

Join Zenless Zone Zero with Tsukishiro Yanagi, the deputy leader of Hollow Special Operations Section 6! Beneath her ordinary office lady exterior lies a meticulous, emotionally intelligent big sister to the team.

[poshpunkqueen]

I've been listening to Taylor Swift since the debut. I'm not one of those listeners that believe Taylor is a Princess, wholly innocent, 24/7 victim but at the same time I don't believe she's a Villain. She's made mistakes.

I'm not one of those listeners that has the time and immoral capacity to sit on the Internet to committ Cyber crimes nor am I willing to put my health on the line to see her live. There should be boundaries.

The transfer from Teenhood to Adulthood for Taylor...I could tell ..she's still unravelling. Its okay to be in your 30s and still finding yourself. Hopefully there is an expiry date.

I'm not trying to be funny but I believe Taylor needs therapy. There are some unresolved things: fame, dealing with the industry and the media has definitely affected her. I don't think she's quite shake off alot stuff. It's passivity with a cupcake appearance of happiness.

Her patterns and methodology when it comes to music....mmmh the adults are taking a step back and analysing 😄. Writing those songs and knowing the effects will eventually become a "Here we go again" Moment. Everyone will move on and she will remain.Therapy is needed.The pride comes before the fall.

I say this because when Tortured Poets Project was announced I was unsure about it. I've never been unsure about a Taylor album. But then again I'm aware of the Taylor Formula. Not sure if she can carry this formula into her 40s and 50s 😄 but we will see. But I listen for listening sake..I'm listening to everyone this year.

TTPD Album: I had to stop half way because its the typical Taylor album...same note 🙆🏻‍♂️ same storyline... lol no doubt she's a good songwriter. Not sure how to feel about missiles being sent to someone who struggled or struggling with Depression. NOPE.

Emotional cheating is interesting lol We had this before 👀. Alcoholism and the talks about drugs is interesting too. Blurring the lines between two men. One you barely bedded to be in this deep. This seems like a tactic for writing material. Calculated PR stunts. I said this last year...she knows what she's doing...she dated him purposely ...she knew what to expect and Matty knew what to expect ...I'm disappointed in Matty selling out ...and acting out for attention..he needs to grow up too....he knows better. He made the whole band look bad...(I'm George fan btw)

Meathead guys years ago like Travis Kelce were saying they wanted to date Taylor for fame and songs. Sadly I'm starting to see it. Travis is a big time user. However we live and learn 😆

Idk I don't get it. If people pay attention to her lyrics not just on this album but previous albums, she tells on herself alot lol. We will have this again 2026.

Being Human isn't without flaws and wrong paths but it seems people only see it with Taylor Swift. .they don't see it with others 🫡 Others would would be stamped with cancellation. The Devil.

Taylor is in her 30s and I hope she figures out what she wants personally and professionally. It doesn't make sense moving from person to person then writing these songs. This is why therapy is important.

A few weeks ago, we heard Beyoncé album and I'm not the biggest Bey fan but we heard her different layers vocally and with the blending of genres. While I'm aware Taylor isn't a vocalist...I want to hear her do other genres.

Honestly I liked Midnights and reputation better.

Here are the songs I might listen to again:

✨️ Fortnight

✨️TTPD

✨️Down Bad

✨️So Long London

✨️The Prophecy

✨️Robin

⛔️Florida...but it's meh...Florence was downplayed...similar to Snow on the Beach with Lana.

The other songs were...okay....

I support Joe. I don't think Joe deserves this...I'm not gonna defend wrong actions even if I like your songs...

TBH EVENTUALLY I WILL STOP LISTENING TO TAYLOR BECAUSE I'VE GONE BACK DEEP INTO ROCK AND OLD SKOOL MUSIC

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

Hey, I have a writing concept, and your insight on these guys is beneficial (especially since I'm mixing your characterization with another fan thing)

For this hypothetical how would the Vees respond if they lost their public status and power? In this scenario, I am not referring to them losing their magical abilities. Instead, I mean situations such as Valentino being unable to secure a willing contract, Vox's patrons not paying for his product, and Vevelette being unable to generate any interactions on her online posts. And let's say they can't get it back. (If that's too far then that part can be ignored.)

Don't answer if you don't want to!

Hmm, it depends on what you mean by "they can't get it back." Is this some kind of inevitable curse? If so, Velvette is definitely going bonkers because lack of agency and being bound is her worst nightmare. Probably for the first time in the Vees' history, Vox and Valentino have to deal with her serious meltdown.

Managing finances would definitely be problematic because they are all spoiled, and used to extravagant spending. So Vox would have to take handle of it and probably block all Val's credit cards. Val is hysterical because for the first time in his life he was actually happy, and now it's all ruined, and he has to go back to survival mode. Vox would also be hysterical because power and status mean everything to him. Actually, the only thing preventing him from spiraling into depression is neoliberal copium: "I made it to the top once, I can make it a second time."

Also, I think it largely depends on whether they know what caused it. If they knew that it is, for example, some curse, they would try to work around it since Vox and Vel are very smart and goal-oriented. If they didn't know and from their point of view, it would look like the world is slowly crumbling and falling apart because nothing works, Val would actually handle it the best, being the only one who does not fixate on seeking the rational explanation why the formula does not work anymore. If he still has his powers, there are multiple ways he can make money and gain respect. He could probably show Vox and Vel how they can get life stability back the good old-fashioned way (organized crime). I mean, they still have powers, they can make a lot of money (Vox and Val can literally force poeple to give them their wallets?) so the hardest thing to swallow would be lack of prestige.

[quodekash]

its been an hour and a half and I am precisely 17 minutes through the episode. this is gonna be a long night

SO-

SO WHY-

SO WHY DIDNT YOU-

WHY THE HELL DID YOU NEVER FREAKING TALK TO YOUR SON ABOUT SOCCER BITCH????

HE'S CLEARLY INTERESTED IN IT TOO

maybe you could've talked to him about it when he was asking you about fifa

you recognised the game, and he said "do you know this game?" and instead of telling him what you know about the game, or how you used to play it, or engaging in some kind of conversation, you say "Ive seen a lot of young people playing it during my campaign" because all you seem to care about is politics and the campaign, and teenagers as a whole generic concept rather than as individuals, and you dont seem to think of your SON as an individual

and I get that parenting is mistakes over and over again and its a learning experience for everyone involved, but I feel like after 18 years maybe you should have a hang on like. holding a positive conversation with your son for over 90 seconds?

WHY THE HELL DID HE NEVER TALK TO HIS SON ABOUT SOCCER, THATS ALL I WANT TO KNOW

SURELY HE SAW SAILOM AND KANG TRAINING VIGOROUSLY FOR KANG TO TRY OUT FOR THE TEAM

HE COULDVE JUST GONE OUT THERE AND SAID "hey I used to play a lot, can I help give some pointers?" AND HE COULDVE PLAYED SOCCER WITH YOUR SON AND HAD A GOOD POSITIVE BONDING EXPERIENCE WITH HIM

BUT NO, INSTEAD HE DECIDES TO PAY TO GET KANG ON THE TEAM

and I get that he had good intentions, he saw that kang wanted to be on the team so he wanted to ensure that kang got what he wanted. but it would've been better to actually show an interest in his sons interests rather than keeping it on the sidelines, to let his son work for a reward rather than just giving it to him without having achieved anything.

sorry I need to shut up about this man but I have so many thoughts and he could be doing so much better but he just isn't

yes

yes

thank you sailom, thank you

yeah, that about sums it up

good job

you got there

finally

but even though its been so long of you neglecting him, it's not too late to try to slowly fix those broken bonds

if you both work together, you can work this out

(ah crap now ive got the song from high school musical 2 stuck in my head)

(what is it with this series and making me think of high school musical)

BRO JUST DID THE SPLITS

THATS IMPRESSIVE

are you okay my guy?

ahhhh

okay

so the root of the issue: terrible communication

juST TALK TO YOUR SON-

how very heartliming of them

noooooo the angst is already here

they had the scene PERFECTLY set up for a tender guynawa moment, and yet they dove right into the angst

guy was injured and in the nurse's office thing

when guy got injured, nawa looked so worried about him

there was a perfect opportunity for nawa to go visit him and tease him lovingly and for them to have a thuakan moment in the sickbay

but no, of course its episode 10 and of course they're following the msp formula where they develop the side couple an insane amount in episode 9 and then come episode 10 and its focused on one of the main character's and their parent

which like is fair, both this plotline and the msp episode 10 plotline are very important but like come on man I just want my side couple content

oh

oh crap that is bad

but he'll be fine

right?

he'll be okay

he's still alive right?

he's just unconscious

the ambos are there, they'll patch him up and he'll be okay

please

kang and kong need to repair their relationship, and it's not too late for that

right?

surely

crap im scared

they didnt kill gim in msp, I have to trust that they wont kill kong

istg if they make both the main characters orphans--

ha fun.

this is so fun.

I am highly amused in this present moment.

how wonderful it would be to see your boyfriend's father potentially dying, and then moments later to see your brother being restrained and taken out of the house, clearly being arrested for that exact crime.

just such a... joyous experience.

HOLY CRAP THE EPISODE STARTED AIRING TWO HOURS AND TEN MINUTES AGO AND IM ONLY JUST NOW ON 2/4, I HAVE A PROBLEM

SEE??? HE'S FINE, ITS FINE, I TOLD YOU IT WOULD BE FINE

ALL OF YOU WERE SO SO WORRIED BUT I WAS COMPLETELY CALM AND COLLECTED

HOY FRICK NOODLES COVERED IN GRAVY AND DOING THE NUTBUSH IM SO RELIEVED

CRAPPP

WHAT THE HELL??

it was an accident right?

or was he trying to keep name out of trouble

FRICK NOW THIS IS MAKING ME THINK OF FREAKING JUSTINE FROM SHAKE AND STIR PRODUCTION OF FRANKENSTEIN THAT I SAW AT QPAC THE OTHER DAY (which, by the way: so freaking good. if anyone happens to be in Brisbane for whatever reason (im not sure why any of you would, I have precisely two aussie bl mutuals, and one of them lives in Melbourne and the other is my irl friend who I watched it with) and you have a spare 50 bucks lying around (anyone under 30 can get a youth ticket for 49 bucks I believe, which is like insanely cheap for such a high quality production), GO SEE IT, THIS IS AN ORDER)

oh I got distracted

anyway AAAAAAA SAIFAH'S GOING TO JAIL FRICK FRICK FRICK FRICK FRICK

...great. wonderful. so good.

I get it, kang's feeling a lot right now, which is fair because his father got shot for goodness sake, and his father might die, and he's already lost his mother, so he needs someone to blame, and saifah confessed to it, so why wouldn't he be angry at saifah?

but the problem comes in with associating saifah with sailom because they're brothers. he has every right to be angry with saifah (although I still believe saifah didn't actually shoot him), but sailom didn't touch that gun.

and now sailom's gonna have to go back to escorting, because if kang has kicked him out then he needs some way to find money, and that's when that scene from the trailers is going to happen

well now I feel like crap

is it time for a playful guynawa scene to lighten the mood? please tell me its time for a playful guynawa scene to lighten the mood

what

hey

hang on

wait a second

you told him to do it, didn't you??

you asked for his help for a few things

is he just acting surprised? why does he have to say that? he doesnt have to say anything at all he could just be like "well this sucks" and not like condemn him or whatever, I still dont think saifah actually did anything wrong

maybe he was manipulated as well?

maybe the guy, his boss, snuck in and he was the one who shot him, and name didnt know that guy was there so in his mind it must've been saifah?

or maybe hes testing ging to see what she actually thinks on the situation

I have literally no clue right now im so confused

GUY

HES IN HOSPTIAL

HE JUST HAD SURGERY

SO

SO

IS NAWA GONNA SHOW UP?

WILL HE HAVE A GIFT BASKET OR SOMETHING?

PLEASE I JUST NEED SOME HAPPINESS

AND I NEED GUYNAWA

PLEASE GUYS

MAYBE ALL THE FRIENDS SHOW UP

AUTO AND MAX AND NAWA

AND THEN AUTO AND MAX EXCHANGE A LOOK AND LEAVE NAWA ALONE WITH HIM

PLS I NEED IT

AWWWWWWWW

GOU4ERHSGPI4ERBNDPGIV

I LOVE ALL OF THESE POEPLE SO MUCH

OH????

YES

YES YE SYE SY EYS EY EY EYSH OM SO EXCITEF OMG

AND THEY WERE THE ENTIRETY OF THE PREVIEW FOR 3/4

ARE WE GONNA GET A WHOLE TEN MINUTES OF JUST GUYNAWA????? PLEASEEEEE

OMG

I WAS KIDDING ABOUT THE GIFT BASKET THING

BUT I WAS RIGHT ABOTU THE GIFT BASKET

THIS IS AMAZING

HES SO IN LOVE WITH HIM, HE WENT TO THE HOSPITAL ALONE TO GIVE A GIFT BASKET TO A GUY HE SUPPOSEDLY HATES BUT WHOM HE HAS HOMOEROTIC TENSION WITH

AAAAAAAAOUGHROJBD

I CANT BELIEVE I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE GIFT BASKET THIS IS FREAKING ADORABLE

BRO WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HERE THIS LATE

and he doesnt have the gift basket anymore

has he already gone to visit guy and he's just come back

and we fully just missed an entire scene

guy only seems surprised that he's here outside of visiting hours

so they've already seen each other??? there was a whole scene of nawa giving guy the basket, and of them being queer as hell, and we didnt get to see it??????

TO THE ROOFTOP?

HONEY THIS IS A DATE

YOU'RE TAKING HIM ON ANOTHER DATE WITHOUT TELLING HIM ITS A DATE

JUST FREAKING MAKE OUT AREADY

also: the rooftop???? thats an inherently patpran thing. and patpran = soundwin. soooo... this is more evidence that guynawa are a different brand of soundwin

EVERYONE'S SO KIND TO HIM IM GONNA CRY

oh, honey...

ITS A DATE

ITS A FRIKIN DATE

THIS IS A FRIKIN DATE

HOLY FRICK

idk, maybe itll be easier to spot if you kiss first

2 hours of them just sitting there in silence?? when they couldve been kissing or holding hands or something?

NOOO I RAN OUT OF IMAGES HANG ON GUYNAWA JUST GIMME A SEC

(ps I forgot to actually post this one, I accidentally saved it as a draft so its coming after the final post I made lmao)

[starlightiing]

so what changed at your job? whats the new job? is it a lot different from what you were doing?

Hiya anon. Sorry it took me 50 years to reply to this, I have had a busy last few weeks and this required a pretty long response.

So I work for a TPA - it's insurance work, but we are not an insurance company. We are a third party administrator contracted to adjust claims on behalf of the insurance companies. Our clients are actually predominantly in London, but we are located in America and owned by a Canadian company. But anyway, based upon agreements and contracts with our London brokers, they write us into their insurance policies in the underwriting process and any agent that sells their policy is then basically made to work with us to handle claims on their behalf so they don't have to.

That said, my last job at the company was claims set up, or 'new loss' as we called it. When those claims came in, someone needed to set them up. It wasn't as simple as data entry though, because we had to link bank accounts (and if you screwed this up and put it on the wrong bank account, the Bordereau (reports and accounting) people would eat you alive, followed then by your manager). And, because of how specific our clients are (as they should be) and the fact that they keep a very close eye on our bordereau, if even one tiny thing is wrong, down to the smallest typo, it can throw off the whole fucking report and piss off the people in London.

I also dealt with the formulas and rates, and keeping track of what clients let us charge what rates, under which formulas, ect.

NOW I am in compliance. It's a bit hard to describe exactly what I do, but it's basically just making sure we are in compliance with our contract promises, laws, and other things. Which really boils down to running reports and making sure the adjusters are doing what they're supposed to be doing on their files (like making first contact within 48 hours), medicare/medicaid compliance, running dow jones searches on payees before we pay them to make sure we're not paying anyone who's done financial crimes in the past, dealing with department of insurance complaints, reviewing all the claims that are set up to make sure there are no errors, among a bunch of other things. Two very different jobs, but one is more chill, less time sensitive, ect ect.

I love my new position. I love the work so far, more will be added as I'm trained, and I love my new teammate and my new boss and the entire vibe of the compliance department. It's just two of us, we put our heads down and we work, no one bothers us, and there's no goddamn drama like there is in admin. There's no 'fight for your life' attitude like there is in admin, and because the 'fight for your life' vibes are gone, people aren't here constantly fighting you with their teeth out or throwing you under the bus to try and keep their job. The department switch has been huge for my mental health even just a week in. I'm still coming to terms with the freedoms and such that I have now. There's no competition, no volatility, none of that. It's just fucking work.