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loveesiren · 2 days ago

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𝖢𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖬𝗒 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 (𝖯𝗍.2)

Choi Seunghyun x f!reader x Kwon Jiyong | Masterlist

a/n: Here's part two! I feel like this part is slightly boring but I needed to write it to continue lol. I've also just been off the past few days and I'm trying to get back into the right mood so I'm sorry if this sucks. I'll try to have part 3 out ASAP!

synopsis: Y/n struggles escape her guilty conscience of the secret her and Jiyong carry. Meanwhile, Seunghyun is oblivious and head over heels for Y/n.

warnings: Language, angst, mention of sex, some fluff at the end

wc: 2.2k+

The shrill blare of your alarm yanked you from the depths of sleep, your body aching, your mind groggy with exhaustion. Your hand instinctively shot out, fumbling blindly until you slammed the snooze button, plunging the room back into an uneasy silence. A tired groan slipped from your lips as you shifted under the sheets, ready to drift back into oblivion—until you felt it.

A warmth beside you.

Your stomach twisted violently as you rolled over, your pulse spiking when your eyes landed on the figure sprawled out next to you. Jiyong.

His bare torso was partially covered by the sheets, the same sheets that reeked of sweat, sex, and the mistakes of last night. His face was relaxed in sleep, lips slightly parted, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks. Without the cocky smirk, without the biting words, he almost looked…peaceful. Almost.

But the moment you registered the ache between your legs, the bruises forming on your hips, the ghost of his hands still lingering on your skin, shame crashed over you like a tidal wave.

Last night came rushing back in a flood of memories—Seunghyun’s gentle smile, the way he looked at you with admiration and patience. The way you had laughed, talked, felt like a real person again, not just some dirty little secret. And then Jiyong. His scent. His touch. His words whispered against your lips as he dragged you back into the cycle of ruin.

You squeezed your eyes shut. God, you hated yourself.

With a sharp inhale, you grabbed your phone, your fingers moving on autopilot as you typed out a text to your boss.

Can’t come in today. Migraine.

It was a weak excuse, but you prayed he wouldn’t question it. You never took a day off. Maybe he’d let this one slide.

Your phone buzzed almost immediately.

Fine, but I need the final drafts by midnight tomorrow.

Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. You set the phone down and turned to face the bigger issue at hand.

“Jiyong, get up,” you snapped, your voice ice-cold as you slammed your foot into his calf.

He groaned in protest, rolling onto his side with a sleepy scowl. “What the fuck, Y/n?”

“Get out.” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the morning stillness like a blade.

Jiyong blinked at you, disoriented but quickly catching on. His smirk returned, lazy and infuriating. “Is that really how you treat the guy who made you cum three times last night?” His voice was drenched in amusement, in satisfaction. In ownership.

Your stomach churned, your skin burning with humiliation. You turned away, grabbing your clothes off the floor, yanking them on in a frenzy. Jiyong propped himself up on one elbow, watching you with that infuriating smirk still lingering on his lips.

“You look tense.” he teased, stretching his arms above his head, his toned stomach flexing. “You wanna fuck it out?”

You clenched your jaw. “I’m not coming in today. And this—this is over. So get up and get out of my house.”

Jiyong tilted his head, his long, fading orange hair falling into his eyes. The same hair you were responsible for touching up, though the thought of being that close to him again made bile rise in your throat.

“Why aren’t you coming in?” His tone was nonchalant, but there was something else lurking beneath it.

“I need a fucking day off—from you. From everything.” Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it. “I had a nice time with Seunghyun last night. And then you just—you just showed up and ruined it.”

He scoffed. “Ruined it? You were begging me to fuck you, Y/n.”

You flinched. He always knew exactly where to strike.

“That was the last fucking time, Jiyong. I’m serious.”

He was quiet for a beat. Then, his gaze flickered to the bedside table, to the black dahlia wilting from neglect. His smirk curled slightly.

“I helped him pick that out, you know.” He gestured lazily toward the flower. “Told him you liked dahlias. He doesn’t know shit about you, Y/n. Not like I do.”

Your breath hitched. “Still don’t know why you did that,” you murmured, your voice laced with suspicion. “Maybe just stay out of our business.”

His eyes darkened. “He’s my best friend. He comes to me for advice.” A cruel chuckle escaped his lips. “I mean, next time I could just tell him how to fuck you right—since I know all about that.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Don’t you dare tell him,” you seethed.

Jiyong raised an eyebrow. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Your chest heaved. “Why do you even care, Jiyong?! You hate me. I hate you. This was all just meaningless fucking sex!”

The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Jiyong’s jaw tightened. His nostrils flared, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. For the first time, he had nothing to say.

“I like Seunghyun. I really do,” you continued, your voice shaking. “And I’d like to see him again. But I can’t do that if you’re still lurking around, so just—just fuck off! Find someone else to fuck!”

Something flashed in his eyes, something raw, something dangerous—but then it was gone.

“Fine,” he spat, his smirk returning, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve got plenty of girls. I don’t need you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Never needed you.” You mumbled, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

Jiyong let out a bitter laugh, but it was hollow. Without another word, he grabbed his clothes, yanked them on, and stormed toward the door. The slam of it rattled the walls.

The moment he was gone, your legs gave out. You sank to the floor, your hands clutching at your hair, your breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. The weight of it all came crashing down, pressing against your chest like a thousand bricks.

It was over.

And yet—you knew it wasn’t. Not completely.

You crawled toward the bathroom, your limbs feeling like lead. The moment you stepped into the shower, you let the scorching water cascade over your skin, washing away the remnants of last night. You sat against the tile, knees pulled to your chest, silent sobs wracking your body.

You had never felt so disgusted with yourself.

Two hours passed before you finally emerged, your body scrubbed raw, but the filth of Jiyong still clung to you like a second skin. You numbly went through your routine, pulling on sweats and a tank top, throwing your sheets into the wash.

Your phone sat untouched on the counter. You braced yourself before picking it up, expecting an onslaught of messages—Jiyong’s wrath, Seunghyun’s confusion, your boss demanding answers.

Instead, there was just one.

Seunghyun: Hey, I heard you weren’t feeling good. Hopefully it’s not from the restaurant. I hope you feel better soon! It’s boring without you here.

Your chest ached. He didn’t know. Not yet.

No, it’s not from the restaurant. Just a headache. I had a great time last night!

You lied.

Not about having a great time with Seunghyun—you had. Those few hours with him had felt like stepping into a life you wanted so desperately to claim as your own. A life that was simple, warm, untouched by the filth of your past mistakes. But the reason you weren’t at work? That was a lie.

You weren’t sick.

You were avoiding the inevitable.

Jiyong knew how to be cruel when he wanted to be. And if he decided to open his mouth, your world would come crumbling down. Your stomach twisted at the thought of it. Everyone would know. Your boss, your coworkers, Seunghyun.

Seunghyun.

You didn’t even want to think about how he would react. The betrayal in his eyes, the disappointment. Would he hate you? Would he turn his back on you? On his best friend?

You pushed the thought away, forcing yourself into work. You needed a distraction, something to pull you away from the anxiety chewing at your insides. Music blared from the speakers, filling the silence as you lost yourself in sketching, your pencil moving in sharp, deliberate strokes.

You had finished Daesung’s outfit first, moving onto Taeyang’s and Seungri’s with ease. Designing for them was simple, almost soothing. You knew their style, their personalities, the energy they brought to the stage. It was second nature to you.

But then came the last two pages of your sketchbook.

Seunghyun and Jiyong.

Your fingers lingered on Seunghyun’s page, your pencil tracing meaningless details—adding unnecessary stitching to his jacket, shading in areas that didn’t need shading, elongating the shape of the silhouette. You knew you were procrastinating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to flip the page just yet.

You liked being on this page. Here, there was no shame, no regret, no mistakes. Just clean lines and the promise of something new.

But eventually, you had to move forward.

The moment you flipped to Jiyong’s page, your stomach clenched.

You stared at the half finished sketch you’d started, your fingers tightening around your pencil. Designing for him was always easy. You knew his style better than anyone, could predict his fashion choices before he even made them. But now, looking at this page, it felt impossible.

How could you design something for a man you wanted so desperately to erase from your memory?

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to sketch. You kept it simple, precise—dark, sleek lines, something effortlessly cool and arrogant, just like him. Just like the man his fans adored. Not the man who whispered filthy things into your ear, not the man who knew exactly how to ruin you, over and over again.

But even as you sketched, his voice echoed in your head.

"He doesn’t know shit about you, Y/n. Not like I do."

Your grip on the pencil tightened. God, you hated him.

And yet, the memory of last night still clung to your skin. The bruises on your hips, the soreness between your legs. You hated how good he made you feel, how easy it was to fall into bed with him, how no matter how hard you tried to move on, he always found a way to pull you back in.

You shook your head, biting down on your lip hard enough to taste copper.

You just had to finish this.

Just as you were adding the final touches, the doorbell rang.

You jolted upright, blinking down at your sketchbook as if just realizing where you were. Pushing it aside, you stood, rubbing the stiffness from your neck before making your way to the door.

You weren’t expecting company.

When you swung the door open, the sight before you made your breath hitch.

Seunghyun.

He stood there, a bag of takeout in one hand and yet another flower in the other. This time, a purple tulip, its petals delicate between his fingers.

“Seunghyun!” you breathed, your voice laced with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I felt bad you weren’t feeling well today, so I thought maybe some ramen would help?” He lifted the bag slightly before extending the flower. “And, uh… I picked this from someone’s garden on the way here.”

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.

"You stole a flower for me?"

He chuckled, his ears turning pink. "Borrowed. I’ll return it if they notice."

Your fingers curled around the stem, bringing the tulip to your nose as you giggled, the gesture so undeniably him. "This is really sweet, Seunghyun."

“If you’d like some company, I’m free.” He paused, suddenly unsure. “But if you’re not up for it, I totally understand.”

You didn’t hesitate. “No, I am!”

His face brightened at your enthusiasm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Come in.” You needed the distraction.

Seunghyun followed you inside, his presence filling your small apartment with warmth. As he placed the food on the counter, you searched for a vase, already feeling guilty about the black dahlia wilting in your bedroom.

Then, he spoke again.

“Oh, and this was outside your door.”

You turned just as he pulled a white envelope from his pocket, holding it out to you.

“I promise I didn’t look at it,” he added quickly. “I just picked it up so you wouldn’t miss it. Could be something important.”

Your fingers hesitated before taking it from him. It was blank. No address, no name.

Your stomach twisted.

“Uh, Seunghyun… do me a favor?” You tried to keep your voice steady. “Take all this to the living room? Pick us a movie to watch.”

“Sure!” He grinned, easily distracted. “What kind of movie do you want to watch?”

“Something scary!” you called back, waiting until he was out of sight before your fingers pried open the envelope.

Inside, there was something small, cold.

A key.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Not just any key. Your key.

Your heart pounded as you pulled out the folded note tucked inside.

You didn’t need to open it to know who it was from. The handwriting was unmistakable, messy and familiar, like it had been scribbled in a rush.

With trembling fingers, you unfolded it, your eyes scanning the words.

I won’t tell him.

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girliism · 3 days ago

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patrick zweig x reader

“oh please pick up, pick up, pick up.”

“hello.”

“oh thank god. i thought you weren’t gonna answer.”

“i’ll always answer for you.”

there was a pause like there always is when either of you says anything a little too intimate.

patrick clears his throat. “but um why are you calling shouldn’t you be at your bachelorette party?”

your sigh echos through the phone. “i’m actually currently hiding out in the bathroom at a stripclub after having three different strippers half hard cocks thrust into my face.”

patrick’s loud laugh fills your ears, and you have to roll your eyes. “so what, do you need a get away driver? want me to come get you?”

you shook your head as if her could see you. “no, no. i just needed a little break from my bridesmaids.” you said the title in a mocking manner. “i thought this wedding stuff was supposed to be fun.” you say quietly.

“you could always come hang out with me.”

before you could respond there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“are you done in there we have to move on to our next location.” you gave a half assed answer back to whoever was at the door would leave.

“i have to go.”

the rest of the night you let your bridesmaids drag you around new york before you started to complain.

“seriously you guys i’m so so tired, and my feet hurt. i would love to stay out but i really really can’t.” before they could try and convince you you shut to door in their faces. letting out a loud sigh you threw your bags next to the door.

you got yourself ready for the night. washing away the activities of tonight before slipping into your pajamas.

it was 3 am and you couldn’t sleep. you toss and turn, you count sheep, you even try to get yourself off but couldn’t be further from in the mood. patrick’s words rang through your head. “you could always come hang out with me.”

three soft knocks sounded through patrick’s hotel room. he originally ignored them but three more came.

“sorry but i didn’t order room service-” he started, opening the door without look through the peek hole. instead of if being a worker it was you in a navy blue slip dress and white slippers carrying two bottles of champagne.

“still wanna hang out?”

patrick stepped aside to let you in, and as if it were your own room you immediately crawled into his bed settling down. patrick slid in next to you grabbing one of the bottles of champagne, popping it open and taking a big glup. “we should watch 27 dress. since, you know, you’re getting married tomorrow.”

“asshole.” you said unseriously, taking the bottle from him chugging back some of the alcoholic beverage.

you and patrick passed back and forth the bottle of champagne taking sips, and eating from the large basket of fries you guys had ordered. ignoring the way your fingertips would sometimes brush, neither of you moving to separate them just letting them linger for a second.

“i don’t wanna get married.” you say softly, watching as jane nicholas switches between dresses. you feel patrick’s eyes on you but you don’t turn to meet them.

“why?”

you shrug, picking at an imaginary loose thread sighing. patrick in all the years that he’s known you he has never seen you so… unsure. not even when you guys were sixteen and patrick got way to drunk at a charity event and crashed his dads car. you knew exactly what to do and who to call. but right now you just looked defeated.

“i mean, it’s not like it’s even my wedding. all just a business transaction. patrick, i didn’t even get pick my own bridesmaids. oh! and my main of honor is the daughter of some guy my dads trying to close a deal with.” you scoffed, letting out everything you’ve been feeling since the night to said yes to the proposal. “at first i was fine with it but i don’t know anymore.”

you sounded so hopeless and patrick didn’t know what else to do but trace little soothing shapes on your bare knee.

“why didn’t you ask me patrick?”

the question caught him off guard. he knew what you were talking about but it still shocked him.

when your parents had deemed you were getting to old and need to marry because in their words. “you have nothing other skills my dear, the least you can do it marry for the business.” patrick had been their first contending, he always was since the two of you met. he came from a very wealthy family and your fathers were already friends. but patrick said, no.

“i don’t know what you mean-” you cut him off with a scoff and an eye roll. “why. didn’t. you. ask me patrick?” you finally turned to look at him, and said with a small voice. “i wanted you to ask me.”

patrick sat up taking his hand off of you and running it through his hair.

“you— you deserve someone better than me.” patrick shrugged. and it’s true, you did. you deserved someone with a stable life, who’s parents weren’t just waiting for him to give up and join them in the family business. you deserved someone who didn’t live in their fucking car half the time.

“someone better being a man i hardly know.”

patrick’s mouth moved faster than his brain.

“you’ll learn to love him.”

you stare at him shocked. “you sound like my mother.”

the brunette winces but doesn’t say anything. it’s silent as you guys sit there watching the movie but not paying attention before you speak again.

“i deserved you.”

patrick scoffed, shaking his head. “you don’t believe that. you see how i live, paycheck to paycheck. driving around in my broken honda to tennis matches only to lose. you don’t fucking deserve that.”

patrick never thought he was good enough for you not even when he was in his “prime” always thought he was too dumb, too immature, too reckless for you. you who was prefect, never a hair out of place, or a wrinkle in sight.

“you deserve someone who can take care of you, who won’t drag you down. you’re use to a certain way of living and being with me at this moment in my life would bore you. you’d grow to hate me.”

you groan. “have you ever thought that maybe i don’t care about that. i have enough money to take care of myself i don’t need a babysitter.” you covered your face with your hands taking a deep breath. “this probably stupid to say before my wedding but fuck it.” you look him right in the eye.

“patrick i’d live in your smelly honda for the rest of life if it ment being with you. your not the brightest but there’s no way you missed all the years i spent absolutely pinning after you. i love you patrick i’ve loved you since the day i met you in that damn coat closet when you were hiding from your parents and i’m gonna keep loving you.” the tears in your eyes fall slowly down cheeks.

patrick took forever to respond and it had you thinking the worst. he didn’t need to say it you already knew he was gonna reject you.

you scoff a laugh. “i’m so stupid.” you whisper to yourself, moving to get out of the bed and forget this ever happened. but before you could make it fully out patrick’s hand took hold of your wrist yanking you softly in to his embrace.

your lips met patrick’s halfway in a kiss the both of you have been dreaming of for far too long. it started out soft, patrick wanted to take his time molding his lips against yours but you needed him. you snake your hands into his curly hair and pulling him closer to you, dragging his body down on top of yours.

patrick’s body fitted itself in between your legs, one of his hands coming to rest on your hip.

“push me away, tell me to stop.” he said, against the skin of your neck as he tracked kisses down your sternum, bunching your dress up and places them on your stomach. you shook your head, arching up into the touch. “no.” you sucked in a breath when his lips brushes against the waistline of your panties. “i want you. i want you. i want you. i want you.” your chanting turned to moaning when patrick’s face disappeared between your legs.

come morning you were gone, the only evidence of you being there was a slight dent in the empty pillow next to patrick’s, and the dull ache on his back that your nails left behind.

“shit.”

his head hurt from his mini hangover and from the knowledge that in a few short hours he’d lose you forever.

he needed to drag himself out of bed and in to the shower then head over to the reception just so see you before you said i do.

as much as you had wanted to stay in patrick’s bed and wake up to him you knew you couldn’t. you had a responsibility.

“you look so beautiful, my dear.”

your mother rested her hands on your bare shoulders, placing her smiling face next to yours. your cheeks nearly touching as she looked at you through the mirror. “though i do wish you picked the other dress.”

there it was.

you let out a sigh standing up for vanity. “well, this was the dress i choose can’t you just be happy with that.” your mother came close to you reaching her hand up to yank out a little fly away hair from your scalp. “the other dress was better.” you rolled your eyes when she turned her back to you checking her watch.

“it almost time. remember all you have to do is walk down the aisle and say i do. think you can do that?”

you wanted to say no, you wanted to take off this dress and get out of this stuff room. but instead you bite the inside of your cheek and gave a short nod. she walked to door, opening it before turning back to you for one last piece of advice.

“and don’t forget to smile.”

when the door shut you let out breath you didn’t even know you holding in. you paced back and fourth, the skirt of your dress flowing around you. the door to your dressing room opened causing you to groan expecting to be faced with your mother not a certain brown haired boy you left stranded this morning.

“hey.”

“hi.”

“your dress is nice.”

“thanks.”

you guys stood there staring at each other awkwardly. you didn’t know what to say, patrick was scared to say what he wanted to say.

“so you’re still gonna do this, still gonna get married.” patrick’s question broke the silence. you sighed again for the hundredth time today. “yes, patrick i am. i’ve tried and there’s only so much i can do.” it was taking everything in you to hold back your tears and patrick’s sad puppy like stare wasn’t helping.

“don’t do this.” patrick stepped closer to you grabbing your hands. “please don’t do this.” you let go of hands and threw you arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

“thanks for last night, pat.”

patrick buried his face into the crook of you neck, breathing your scent in. his hands flexed against your lower back pushing you closers.

a knock at the door tore you two apart. you gave patrick one last look before leaving there. again.

the wedding march plays when you enter the room. everyone standing up from their seats. the two little flower girls skip ahead of you, dropping white rose petals in their wake. multiple pairs of eyes are on you, watching as you walk down the long aisle with your arm linked with your fathers. when you reach the end you hand off your flowers to your mother, place a kiss on your father’s cheek, before taking place in front of your husband to be.

“dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

patrick kinda blacked out the first half of the ceremony. the second you walked out nothing else seemed to matter. you were practically glowing under all the lights, thought the glow didn’t quite reach your eyes. the priest next words seemed to break patrick out of his hypnosis.

“speak now or forever hold your peace” there was a pause, no one in the audience stood up prompting the priest to continue.

“wait, i object.” patrick shot up out of his seat causing everyone to turn and look at him. “patrick!” he ignored his mothers sharp call of his name, moving out of the pews to stand in the middle of the aisle.

“i object.” he this time with more confidence. “you were right last night. you don’t deserve this sham of a marriage. you don’t deserve to get married to guy you’ve known for four months and who makes you wear flats on your wedding day so you don’t appear taller.”

you stifled a laugh.

“i know my life right now is kinda shit, and i was trying to be selfless by letting you go, but fuck it. i love you, i love you so much. so, leave that loser and come with me.” patrick held his hand out.

you didn’t need to think twice before pulling off the ring on your finger and dropping in the hand of the man in front of you.

“what do you think you’re doing.” your mother stopped you half way down the stairs. you looked at her sighed. “something for myself.” you pushed past her, running a little to reach patrick. your hands found each other’s, fingers interlocking as you walked out the reception leaving behind all the confused murmuring.

“that would have been really embarrassing if you hadn’t come with me.” patrick joked, grabbing his keys from the valet. “let’s get out of here i’m starving.”

“patrick.”

he stopped and turn to look at you. you reaching forward, your hands grabbing onto his cheeks pulling him in for a kiss.

“i love you.”

patrick couldn’t help the blush and smile that crept onto his face. he took hold of your hands leading you to the passengers seat opening the door for you.

“your chariot my lady.”

you hopped into the passengers seat and patrick slid into the drivers, starting the car and driving away from the dramatic scene he just caused.

#girliism #challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig fluff

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narcissisticsmoker · 3 days ago

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The door clicks shut and the silence is suffocating. The weight of the day sits heavy in my chest, but none of it matters the second I see her. My girl. Sitting at her desk, bathed in the soft glow of her screen, oblivious to the way I am watching her.

The second my eyes land on her, it’s over. The exhaustion is still there, gnawing at my bones, but it can’t compete with the hunger. Not when she’s sitting there, in my space, under my roof, wearing my shirt and nothing else, like she forgot who it belongs to. Like she forgot who she belongs to.

I don’t speak. I don’t have to. My hand wraps around the back of her neck, fingers sliding into her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her head tilt back. She gasps, her body arching for me before her mind can catch up. Her lips part, but no words come out because she sees it in my eyes. The need. The obsession. The dark, unrelenting claim I wear like a second skin.

You left me waiting, I murmur, my mouth against her jaw, tracing the line of her throat with my teeth, feeling her pulse jump beneath my tongue. You sat here working while I was out there losing my mind thinking about you. My fingers trail down her chest, her stomach, slipping under the edge of the shirt that barely covers her. I should punish you for that.

Her breath stutters, her thighs clenching instinctively, but I slide my hand between them, fingers pressing into her inner thigh, spreading her open before she can even think to resist. Her head falls back against my shoulder, her body already melting into mine like she knows fighting me is useless. There’s nowhere to go. There’s only me. There’s only this.

I’m too tired to be gentle, I whisper, my teeth grazing her ear, too tired to ask. I’ll take what’s mine and you’ll give it to me because you belong to me. I pull her up from the chair, dragging her back into my chest, my hand locked tight around her throat as I walk her to the bed. Her knees hit the edge first, and I shove her forward, watching her fall onto her hands before I press my body down over hers.

My weight keeps her pinned, her breath coming faster, her fingers curling into the sheets as I shove the shirt up to her waist. You know better, I growl into her ear, my hand sliding between her thighs, fingers spreading her open until she’s gasping, already wet, already mine. You know better than to make me wait for you. I’m not patient. I’m not gentle. Not after a day like this.

Her voice breaks when I push into her, my hand still around her throat, holding her still, making her take every inch, making her remember exactly who owns her. My girl. My possession. The only thing that keeps me sane and drives me insane all at once.

I don’t stop until my name is the only thing she remembers how to say. Until I’ve left my fingerprints on her skin, my marks on her throat, my obsession buried so deep inside her she’ll feel it tomorrow.

I’ll sleep when I’m done with you, I whisper into her hair, and not a second before.

Because no matter how tired I am, I will always need you more.

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writing-for-marvel · 2 days ago

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I’m back on the hurt train ready to get absolutely railed again

I’m pretty sure I said this in my first read of the chapter but the fact that your amazing mind chose to start and end this chapter, a fic about time loops, in flashbacks is actually genius

There was something almost like bemusement that appeared in the curl of Natasha’s lip, but she didn’t kick you out, which you took as a sign that your little outburst might have been closer to the truth than you’d really expected. You leaned back ever so slightly.

Oh this just feels so Nat, you’re characterisation feels so spot on, even down to the detail of her just needing to stare reader down and reader just keeps rambling like shes justifying herself

Then, without warning, she threw her glass at you.

You obviously can’t see me but I literally flinched out of the way reading this like it was me she had done this to 😂 but I love this scene with Nat so much, it’s such a *her* thing to do, the details are just perfect

“Yeah, I’m not gonna be able to do that,” you said flatly.

Literally took the words out of my mouth

So it appears you’ve gotten yourself stuck in some macabre version of Groundhog Day. Alright. Cool cool cool. You can work with that, probably. Maybe.

I love the inner monologue you have written, it’s honestly so refreshing and actually hilarious

It’s moments like these that make you miss Nat the most.

Stop it we can’t have more death and grief than we do already please

There was something about that woman that made everyone around her open up, whether they wanted to or not.

Literally flash back to what I said before about reader just rambling under her stare without her saying a single word

“Buck?” He huffs, even though he continues to wear his usual exasperated expression. “Did Sam hit you in the head?”

You raise your eyebrows in fake surprise. It’s so easy to fall back into your usual bickering, even with everything that’s going on. “You’re right, I don’t. Your cat probably got into my room again and let out her past week’s aggressions.”

“See, that’s exactly what she wants you to think.”

Eeeee they make me giddy 🥰🥰🥰

“Nope. This is my spot, too.”

“Great,” you sigh, angling yourself away from him. “I’ll be sure to make a reservation next time.”

I’m literally just giggling and kicking my feet every time they interact

“Try the floor,” Bucky says as you’re almost out of the room. He doesn’t turn when you do, but he seems to feel your questioning gaze. “If you can’t sleep. It helps, sometimes.”

Oh my baby 😭 just the thought of him sleeping on the floor for comfort actually hurts my soul

With a sigh, you get settled on the floor, staring up at the ceiling until your eyes get too tired.

Oh she takes his advice 🥺🥺🥺

When you see your own body still lying in bed next to where you’re standing, you almost trip over your own feet.

See I knew this was coming this time and yet it still felt like a shock to the system!!!

It’s one of your favorite comfort novels. You take good care of your books for the most part, but this one is quite battered; you’ve been bringing it with you on missions for years. A bit of home that fits into your pocket and helps calming you down on countless quinjet rides better than pictures ever could.

If someone comes into my room and insults one of my favourite books you can best believe I am finally learning to throw a punch and clock them in the jaw

“It happened because you activated the time stone,” Strange sneers. “Your powers are a lot stronger than you even care to realize, and it was idiotic to keep them a secret.”

She cares so much about Bucky that she’s activated the time stone??? Nika your mind wtf 🤯🤯🤯

He must have hit his head on the side of the big table, but the shield had protected him from the sharp edge. He’s pressing a hand to his wound and he’s conscious and fine. He’s fine.

I’m just sat here waiting with bated breath for this whole sequence

You fling your knife as fast as you can, but his single moment of hesitation was long enough for the trigger to be pulled a second time. You turn just in time to see the realization on Bucky’s face, the shock and panic in his eyes as they meet yours.

You’re telling me he dies in every rendition of this god damn day Nika it’s too painfulllllllll

Bucky figuring out that somethings wrong 😭😭 they barely spend any time together and yet he’s already worked her out 😭😭 don’t mind me imma just sob over here

Things were finally starting to look up.

Right just the kick to the gut I needed at the end of this torture (affectionate; I love it)

Nika I love it, I am after two chapters already pulling my hair out every time we have to see Bucky die, but the story itself is exceptional!!

Your writing style is absolutely gorgeous, I always feel so present in the moment with all of their conversations, all the characters feel so *real*, I adore them all

And I honestly can’t say enough about the magic system in place and readers powers, like I’m bewildered by how your gorgeous mind came to that. I can’t wait to dive more into it and learn the backstory behind it all

time after time [2]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 8.2k

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, the angst continues, another reminder to read the fic premise; a couple of guest appearances; flashbacks are my establishing shots and i’m going to make it everyone’s problem

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: 2am updates are kind of my brand at this point. big shout-out to @barnesafterglow who read a good chunk of this yesterday and is still talking to me <3 thank you all for your patience and your love for chapter one!!

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

two: twice upon a time

The first time you met Natasha Romanoff in person, a few weeks after the Snap, she only had to look at you for a couple of seconds to be able to read you like a book.

They’d compiled a file, of course, filled with all the general academic credits and official family information that was still available to the public and definitely more than a few things you’d tried to bury, too. Even then, the folder was reassuringly slim.

She’d have to take you at your word about what you’d come to offer her, anyway.

“And why would we want to have you?” she asked. As if she were interviewing you for a job. Which, technically speaking, she was.

You were on edge and Natasha knew it, even though you tried to hide your ever twitching fingers in your lap under the table, picking at the skin around your nails until you felt it break. You took a deep breath.

“Look, I know that I’m not exactly a soldier, or a—a superhero type, but I … I don’t know, I would just like to use my … thing to do good, for once. You know, stuff that will help people.”

And do it on your own terms. It stayed unsaid, then. You didn’t admit that part until much later.

Natasha’s face stayed perfectly neutral through your rambling, and you weren’t sure whether that was calming you down or making you more anxious. You reached for your necklace, tugging at the chain.

“But I can’t really do that on my own,” you continued, “and you, well, all of you, you’ve done it for a while and you’re good at it. And I think I could help with that.”

She still didn’t say anything, just kept waiting while you sat awkwardly in that uncomfortable office chair, regretting your decision of ever following through with your crazy impulsive idea of coming here.

But where else would you have gone?

“Also,” you remarked in a sudden burst of boldness, “I think you could use every extra pair of hands you can get at the moment.”

You couldn’t be sure, then, if she’d pieced together what little information they’d had on you in your file or if she’d just figured you out while you were sitting in this office, but it didn’t make all that much of a difference. She didn’t have to ask why you’d decided to offer up your abilities to the Avengers now, after everything, when they’d been hidden away for most of your life.

“You’re lonely. And you need a purpose, like all of us,” she said, looking you up and down apprehensively.

Then, without warning, she threw her glass at you.

You flinched to the side and it shattered on the wall behind you. The leftover drink slowly sank into the carpet as you turned to stare at her in shock.

Natasha lifted one of her perfectly trimmed eyebrows. “You wanna try that again?”

Really, you should’ve expected the test.

You closed your eyes and raised your hands.

It’s a strange experience, going back in time. No one had really asked you to describe what it was like, and you probably couldn’t have if you tried. It felt a little like retracing your own steps in your head, relocating your conscience to an earlier moment, second by second, in a rapid backwards motion. Like very vivid remembering. Only, it’s not just that.

“You’re lonely,” Natasha said, swirling the dregs of her glass, her green eyes tracing over you. “And you need a purpose, like all of us.”

You were expecting it this time, but the glass still slipped through your fingers and broke into tiny shards on the floor. Not good enough. You didn’t wait for her reaction this time, cursing under your breath and pulling yourself back again. As always, it took considerably more effort.

You tried your best not to stare at the glass while Natasha spoke, but you didn’t really listen anymore. This time, you caught it, even though its contents spilled over your hand.

Natasha smirked. “Not bad. First try?”

“This is when I lie to sound capable, right?” You shook the liquid off your fingers, sure she’d already noticed the sweat on your temples. No use in lying to a spy, anyway, you supposed, so you admitted, “Third.”

“We’ll work on that. But honesty’s a good start.” She held out her hand and you returned the glass. “Have you ever done combat training?”

You could barely stifle a nervous laugh. “Do I look like I’ve ever done combat training?”

“I don’t tend to judge people based on how they appear,” Natasha said, uncrossing her legs. “Come with me.”

You followed her back out of the office into the wide, empty hallway. You hadn’t seen anyone else around on the whole Compound, even though it could probably house hundreds of people on the ground floor alone. The clacking sound of your steps on the tiled floor seemed to echo all around you.

It felt like you were announcing yourself to everyone within a two-mile radius while Natasha moved around on her bare feet without a single sound.

A glass elevator took you down to the subterranean level of the building. Once the doors slid open, Natasha marched straight to a double door with square windows and large metal handlebars.

“Leave your shoes and bag by the door,” she told you. She waited for you to untie your laces and awkwardly wiggle out of your boots before she let you both in.

The Compound gym was even bigger than you’d expected. You weren’t sure if you were more surprised by that revelation or by the presence of a certain super soldier kicking the life out of a punching bag on the other side of the hall.

“Hey Rogers,” Natasha shouted as it got smacked to the ground. “Brought a new recruit!”

“Really?” he called back, unwrapping the bandages around his knuckles.

“Really?” you said. Sure, that was what you came here for, but even so, you were a little shocked it had been that simple.

“Like you said, we’re a little desperate at the moment,” she winked.

“I didn’t say that,” you muttered anxiously as Captain America jogged over to join you, a towel thrown over his shoulder. Despite his workout, he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Steve Rogers,” he said, holding out his hand with a smile.

You shook it, slightly bewildered, and introduced yourself. He repeated your name back at you and you had to take a moment to think how strange this whole situation was, even in all the madness that’d been going on. How unreal.

“I’m sure it’ll be good to have ya,” he said, and you almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Thankfully, you caught yourself in time.

Meanwhile, Natasha had dragged one of the thick foam mats away from the heavy equipment and rolled it out. Cracking her neck, she stepped onto it and pushed her hair out of her face.

“Okay. Show me how you’d throw a punch.”

She held out her hands flat in front of her and nodded her head for you to join her on the mat. You’d never felt so stupid in your life as you tried to rack your brains for whatever little you took from those self-defense lessons however long ago. At least Captain Goddamn America seemed to be politely ignoring you in favor of putting some weights away.

“Just move on instinct, you’re not getting graded,” Natasha said calmly.

Your instincts were telling you you were absolutely getting graded and this was your worst idea to date, but you tried your best. She had you aim at different heights a few times before she stopped you.

“Okay, your posture’s terrible. You have to straighten your back and bend your knees more, see?” She demonstrated the right stance, waiting for you to copy her. “There you go. That’s your standard pose.”

“Alright,” you said, testing it out with a little bounce. “And what do I do with that?”

“Depends on what you’re trying to do. With the right training, you can use your own weight to your advantage in a fight. Steve?”

“Oh, great, am I volunteering?” He joined you on the mat and you moved to give the two of them enough space.

“You love it. Now watch me,” she added, looking at you.

Before Steve could even properly raise up his arms, Natasha launched into a handflip and somehow managed to wrap her legs around his body. The sudden movement made him stumble backwards. He lurched his body forwards to get her off his shoulders, but she used the momentum of her fall to kick him off his feet onto the mat. She gracefully landed on all fours like a cat. It looked effortless.

“You’re right,” Steve groaned, “this is very fun for me.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna be able to do that,” you said flatly.

“I don’t expect you to,” Natasha said, pulling her hair behind her ears again. “But you do have to be able to survive in a fight, even without your powers, if you want to join the team. We can’t babysit you.”

You pressed your lips together, slowly curling your hands into fists and opening them again.

“Alright,” you said, your voice strangely dry. “When do we start?”

*****

Your initial reaction is relief.

Relief, because it’s Friday again, which means nothing has actually happened, which means Bucky is still alive.

Then, the implications of that fact hit you all at once.

You must’ve blacked out for a second or two, because when you open your eyes again, you’re lying on the floor next to your bed, heart still pounding a mile an hour. Your breath comes out in short gasps, and you force it to slow just in time for the knock on the door.

“Rise and shine, McFly! Time to get your ass kicked!”

“Just gimme a minute!” you shout back and stumble to the bathroom.

Your hands and face are speckled with blood and you wash it off furiously, biting your lip as the tiny cuts on your skin left by the glass shards burn under your touch. Turning off the faucet, you keep leaning onto the basin and stare at your hands.

You’re not sure what you expected. Your rings are still the blackest you’ve ever seen them, and the dimly glowing symbols keep slowly circling around your wrist. It doesn’t take you long to put two and two together, because once is a coincidence, a strange, fateful accident, but twice is a pattern. And of course you’ve heard about this kind of thing happening. Only not like this.

Life everlasting.

No. Definitely not like this.

So it appears you’ve gotten yourself stuck in some macabre version of Groundhog Day. Alright. Cool cool cool. You can work with that, probably. Maybe.

“Did you get lost in there?” Sam remarks with a grin when you finally step out of your room, still looking slightly disheveled.

“I—” You stop yourself, blinking at him until he starts looking slightly concerned.

“You alright? You look …” His eyebrows raise even higher. “Shell-shocked.”

Well, this isn’t exactly an everyday occurence even for me, Samuel, you want to tell him. Instead, you say, “Don’t ever wake me up like that again.” It lacks yesterday’s punch.

“Sweet white teenage angst not your style?”

You hum, but don’t reply otherwise, still lost in thought as you climb the stairs, trying to assess your situation and come up with some sort of plan.

It’s fairly obvious you fucked up your reset the other day. So much for the precious space-time continuum; oh, you hate it when the wizard people are right every now and then.

You glance sideways at Sam while he stretches his back in the ring. He seems fine, completely normal, unaware of what’s going on with you, and of course he would be. Nothing unusual about that part of your powers. Or what’s left of them.

You raise your hands experimentally.

“I’m not high-fiving you until you get one kick in, at least.”

Not even the slightest hitch. It’s like your powers have just up and left you completely. A strange heaviness settles in your stomach. Fucking useless.

You avert your burning eyes from Sam’s gaze.

It’s not like you … talk.

None of you do, not really. Sure, you chat. You’re great at chatting. You’ve had years, countless tries of perfecting smalltalk, of knowing the things you can get away with saying to certain people. It’s made you reckless in the past, knowing you could probably replay entire conversations in the blink of an eye, the pressure of expectation gone completely.

Ever since you started coming out of hiding again, though, the fun has drizzled out of that more and more. It’s one thing to impress strangers and another to be several steps ahead of the people you’ve started to consider your friends.

Because even though sometimes it sure would be easier, having people un-live conversations they’ve had with you, particularly hard or emotional ones, is sort of a shitty move if you continue to spend your time around them afterwards. And you’ve grown determined to not intentionally hurt people with your powers. Not anymore.

So yes, you chat. You know Sam’s favorite color and the video games his nephews want for their birthdays. You know what kind of music Bucky listens to, mostly because he forgets to turn on the soundproofing in his room and Jazz trumpets are surprisingly loud. You know their habits, the foods they like, the movies they hate.

But you don’t … share. Nothing that goes deeper than the general stuff.

It’s moments like these that make you miss Nat the most.

There was something about that woman that made everyone around her open up, whether they wanted to or not. You’re almost resolved to call her as soon as you get back to your room before you remember.

You’re gonna have to do this on your own. Back to square one.

“What is up with you today?”

“I’m fine,” you grunt, but make no effort to get back up again. “Didn’t sleep well. Ow.” You narrow your eyes at Sam. “Did you just kick me?”

“I wanted to see if you’re still alive.”

“Horrible. I’m quitting. You can go spar with Bucky again.”

“At least he puts up a fight.” Sam crouches down next to you. “Anything you wanna tell me?”

Yes. You shake your head. He probably wouldn’t believe you, anyway.

“Alright,” he says, clapping you on the shoulder. You scrunch your nose. “I’m gonna hit the showers. But we’re doing a rain check for tomorrow, and you sort out your pea under the mattress situation.”

“Okay.”

You listen to Sam’s receding steps and the sound of the door opening and closing again. Then, there’s nothing but silence and the ticking of the clock on the far wall.

Even though you know you should probably just head out as well, you can’t help but linger again. Just in case.

“You look like shit.”

Your head rolls to the side. Fuck you, Barnes. “Hey, Buck.”

Same spot on the bench next to the ring, same hunched over position, same concentrated look on his face while he cleans up the shimmering golden nooks in his arm.

“Buck?” He huffs, even though he continues to wear his usual exasperated expression. “Did Sam hit you in the head?”

You don’t answer, just keep staring at his profile for a little while longer. Your eyes are drawn to the nape of his neck, to the center of his chest. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Bucky says lowly. You turn your gaze back to the ceiling.

“Nothing,” you answer, pulling an arm over your eyes. The sweatband rubs against your eyebrow.

Maybe, you think, just maybe, it could still be a fluke. Only one more time to get things right, and then all will just go back to normal. Maybe you’ll be fine today. He’ll be fine.

There’s a buzzing in your ears, and you’re not sure if it comes from the green symbols gyrating around your arm or if you’re just imagining it altogether.

“What happened to your face?” Bucky asks unexpectedly, casually, as if he were talking about the weather.

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you dove head-first into a rose bush.”

“Hah.” You slowly sit up, your muscles aching for a hot shower. Three days of training and fighting in a row are not agreeing with your body. “Must’ve scratched myself in my sleep.”

If he sees through your lie, he doesn’t call you out on it. “Didn’t know you have talons.”

“My cat slept soundly, thank you very much,” Bucky says dryly.

“See, that’s exactly what she wants you to think.”

“Funny.” He stands up, hanging the piece of cloth over the side of the boxing ring to air out. “Take the towel on the right, I already used the other one.”

“Thanks, Buck,” you say with a smirk. He ignores you.

***

The shower is what brings your mood back down again. In the silence of the water hitting your back, there’s enough time for you to think about the upcoming day that you’ve already been through twice.

Up until the mission, it’s gone by fine, unremarkably so, which only makes the build-up to the evening even worse, in your opinion. You face the stream of hot water directly, trying to rid yourself of the image of Bucky lying on the floor, bleeding out in front of you.

You need to be rational about this.

First, you need to figure out what’s going on with your powers. Then, you have to make up your mind about lunch, because while you don’t exactly resent the thought of your third pizza in as many days, your stomach sadly doesn’t agree with that notion. And finally, you’re going to break this damn cycle you’re in. Easy as that.

You turn off the shower with your newfound resolve and grab the clean towel.

Your determination lasts up until you get back to your room and realize you don’t actually know how you are going to fix your powers. They’ve always been somewhat fickle, unpredictable even to you, acting up whenever it’s most inconvenient. Impossible.

No one has ever been able to tell you where they came from, nor how you could properly control them. Everything you know you had to figure out through trial and error, replaying the same scenario over and over again, and, more often than not, lucky coincidences.

Usually, when your rings are black and your powers are weakened, it helps to let your body regain its strength first. In other words, you need to sleep.

This is something you probably should have thought through before getting your morning coffee with an extra shot of espresso, out of habit, but that’s not something you can change right now.

The living room area wouldn’t usually be your first choice for a midday nap, but you’re not ready to face the bloodstains on your bedding quite yet, so you’ll have to make do with one of the suspiciously IKEA-looking throw pillows on the couch. The TV is chattering away in the background, just loud enough to somewhat distract you from your own thoughts.

It’s not enough to fall asleep, though.

You keep tossing and turning, half-listening to three or four episodes of some nineties sitcom, while your anxiety gnaws away at your insides. There’s a constant low pounding in your head that drives you up the wall, and again you swear you can hear the symbols looping around your wrist. You keep scratching at your sweatband, but it’s no use.

You don’t know how much time has passed before the pattering of small paws makes you sigh in disdain.

There’s an obnoxiously loud meowing close to your feet, followed by a sudden weight dropping on your stomach that almost invites your garlic bread back up for a double feature. You peer out at the white shape on top of you, innocently toying with the hem of your shirt.

In general, you like cats just fine, but something about Alpine has always unsettled you. Sure, she’s a cute-looking ball of fluff, but she’s also quick to scratch unsuspecting people bending down to pet her, and she seems to have a particular bone to pick with you.

“Maybe she’s just a good judge of character,” Sam jokes whenever you complain about it.

“She doesn’t like you any better.”

“Yeah, but I’m allergic to her,” Sam shrugs. “The farther she stays away, the more a favor it’s doing me.”

In truth, the only person Alpine likes is Bucky, and she loves to show it every chance she gets.

“You’re in her spot.”

Alpine graciously allows you to push up to your elbows with a groan. Bucky’s tall figure is looming over your head; there’s a bemused expression on his face. He must’ve just walked in through the door, because he’s still wearing his jacket.

“Why does the cat need a spot on the couch, exactly?” You try to shoo her off your lap, but Alpine digs her claws deeper into your shorts and you wince. “You really need to teach her manners.”

“You gotta be gentle with her,” Bucky says, pulling her off you without a hitch. “Move over.”

You swing your legs off the couch with a roll of your eyes. “Can’t you sit somewhere else?”

“Nope. This is my spot, too.”

“Great,” you sigh, angling yourself away from him. “I’ll be sure to make a reservation next time.”

Alpine starts purring as Bucky scratches her under the chin. “You watchin’ that?”

“I was trying to nap,” you mumble, throwing him the remote with a little more force than necessary. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Thirteen twelve hours.”

“Please stop just saying numbers when I ask you that.”

Bucky smirks again and switches channels. “Quarter past one-ish.”

You blink at him tiredly, surprised to find out he’s been back so early. The past two days, you didn’t see him around again until the broadcast was about to start. Then again, you didn’t really pay attention at that point, either.

There’s that tick in his jaw that he always gets when something is bothering him, even as he’s distracted by a playful cat in his lap. You’d better relieve him of the burden of your presence.

“Well,” you say, standing up. Alpine whines indignantly at the sudden movement. “I’ll try to find a cat-free spot in this tower, then.”

“Try the floor,” Bucky says as you’re almost out of the room. He doesn’t turn when you do, but he seems to feel your questioning gaze. “If you can’t sleep. It helps, sometimes.”

You hide your hands in your pants pockets, even though it’s far too late by now. He’s already noticed your black rings.

With a short hum, you briskly walk back to your room, leaning against the door as it closes behind you. This is getting ridiculous, you think, worrying the ring on your pinkie finger with your thumb. As if you didn’t have enough reasons to get a hold of your powers again; you don’t know what you would do if Bucky really got suspicious of you now.

Taking a deep breath, you eye your bed. Compared to yesterday, the blood stains on your sheets are barely more than a few specks, because you weren’t as close to Bucky when it happened. Somehow, that doesn’t make you feel any better.

“Fine,” you mutter in annoyance, grabbing one of your pillows and throwing it on the floor next to your bed. “FRIDAY, can you wake me in time for Sam’s speech?”

“Of course,” FRIDAY tells you. “Do you want me to use the same song as this morning?”

“Please don’t.” A little idea pipes up at the back of your head. “Do you have any record of playing that song before?”

“Last dates played. Friday, July 4th 2025, 07:50 a.m. Playtime: forty-five seconds. Thursday, March 13th 2014, 02:49 a.m. Playtime: one hour, twenty-seven minutes, eighteen seconds. End of record.”

Interesting night for Tony, then, but not exactly telling when it comes to your time loop situation. With a sigh, you get settled on the floor, staring up at the ceiling until your eyes get too tired.

You’ll think of something once you’ve had a bit of sleep. He’ll be fine.

And then, just as you’re finally about to drift off, you feel a sudden jolt go through you. It’s a bizarre sensation, like you’re falling and jumping at the same time, but your body isn’t actually moving with you. Like someone pulling at your very consciousness.

Your eyes fly open and you gasp for air.

You’re still in your room, which should be good news, but everything looks … weird. Not as out of focus as it would be if you were simply dreaming, but somehow crooked, the angles unusually pronounced. The colors are all off, the lights way lower than they should be this time of day, and when you reach out for the edge of your bed, your hands—

You take a sharp breath. Your fingers are bare, no trace of your rings anywhere, and even worse, your hands are partly transparent. Cautiously, you get up on your equally as see-through legs and turn around.

When you see your own body still lying in bed next to where you’re standing, you almost trip over your own feet.

You stare at yourself in disbelief. One of your body’s hands is tucked under the pillow, and it’s breathing regularly. Carefully, you take a step closer and reach out your noncorporeal hand. Your shoulder feels warm and solid underneath your fingertips.

Your body wrinkles its nose in its sleep and you jerk back again, losing your balance and falling to the floor. Your body doesn’t react at all, even though you pull part of the blanket with you as you go down.

“Okay. This is a dream,” you tell yourself, even though you feel your heart pounding. “Just some weird-ass dream, and I have to wake up.” Again, you can’t help but look at the sleeping body lying in your bed.

You press your hands over your eyes, willing yourself to slow your breathing. The edge of your nightstand jabs you painfully between the shoulder blades, too real to be nothing more than an act of your imagination.

“You’re not what I expected.”

The man’s voice makes you flinch slightly. Slowly, you peek through your fingers.

You either didn’t notice him while you were taking in your surroundings or he’s just blended in with them seamlessly, although you’re not sure how that last one could even be a possibility. His back is turned to you, his frame covered by a long, deep red cloak with intricate patterns stitched along the seams. He’s perusing your bookshelf, picking up old copies seemingly at random.

For some reason, your shock at the sight of him is outweighed by immediate irritation. Something about the man instantly irks you.

“Thanks, I think,” you tell him, throwing the edge of the blanket over your sleeping body again as you get up, never letting the man out of your sight.

He turns around, one of his eyebrows raised. Your eyes immediately fall on the amulet around his neck and your heart gives a stutter. You ignore it.

“Not a compliment.” He holds up a book. “This is how you spend your time, then?”

“Sue me for trying to relax in between saving the world,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Of course,” the man says wryly. “Because god forbid you use those powers of yours to their full extent, we wouldn’t want that.”

“And what’s it to you?” you snap.

The man calmly puts the book down again; not where he picked it up from, you notice in annoyance.

“My name is Doctor Stephen Strange,” he says, watching your face for your reaction. “Ah, so you have heard of me.”

Of course you have. You know who he is, you must’ve seen his picture hundreds of times during the Blip, and even before that, you’d heard about his reputation. As one of the keepers of the time stone back when it still existed, he’s on your list of people you least want to see, ever.

You narrow your eyes at him. “How did you find me? What—” You take a quick look back at your own sleeping form. “What is this place?”

“The astral plane,” he says, swiping your bookshelf for dust and inspecting his fingertips contemptuously. They’re shaking ever so slightly. “Something you would know if you hadn’t spent the past decade avoiding every single chance to use your powers responsibly.”

“Wow,” you huff. “You don’t know anything about me or about my powers.”

“Don’t I, Y/N Y/L/N?” Strange’s cloak flaps slightly as if it were shrugging.

“I spent the last couple of years trying to save lives.”

“You’re riding on luck and pretend it’s control. You have no idea what this could do to the grand scheme of things.”

“Well, I never asked for these powers, okay?” you say defensively. “I just have them. What I don’t have is any interest in being a pawn in some grand scheme of things when I never wanted any of this.”

“People don’t generally get a choice in that matter.” His gaze drops to your wrist. “And now look where your resistance to accept your responsibilities got you.”

The green band of symbols is still leisurely circling around your arm. You bite your tongue. “I don’t know how that happened,” you say, your voice breaking slightly on the last word.

“It happened because you activated the time stone,” Strange sneers. “Your powers are a lot stronger than you even care to realize, and it was idiotic to keep them a secret.”

“Why, so you could use them for your own gain?”

“So I could prevent this exact kind of thing from happening.”

You throw your hands in the air in frustration. “So end it, then. Or did you drag me here just to berate me?”

Strange chuckles humorlessly. “This is not something others can just fix for you, Miss Y/L/N. You cast a very powerful spell in creating this loop, and you are the only one who can lift it again.”

“Great. I’m screwed, then, is that what you’re saying?” You might not be inside of your body at the moment, but you can still feel your cheeks heating up. “I want you to leave me the fuck alone.”

“You need to calm down,” Stange says sharply.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, get out of my—head, or whatever this is. Get out!”

“Alright then. Continue to play stubborn. See how far it gets you.” He holds out his right hand and there’s a crack in the air behind him; almost like a doorway, or a mirror. “I’ll be here when you’re done acting like a child.”

You come to on your bedroom floor, feeling almost more tired than you did when you laid down earlier. It takes your bleary eyes a moment to adjust to your surroundings again. When you sit up, a thin throw blanket that you don’t remember pulling over your shoulders falls into your lap.

This really is just a whole bunch of disasters stacked on top of each other.

You don’t even have to look at your rings to know there’s still not the slightest green spec in sight. Your fingers find your necklace and you tug slightly to reassure yourself of its presence. How the hell did Strange even find you?

There’s no time to think about it for too long, because once again, there’s a knock at your bedroom door.

“We got a lead on that lab,” Sam shouts on the other side. “Jet’s leaving in half an hour, get ready.”

You blink at the clock on your wall in confusion. Even though you feel like you only spent a couple of minutes in this other dimension you were dragged into, several hours have passed in this one.

Time is seriously out of your hands, and it’s only getting worse.

***

“Don’t you think that maybe they have an alarm set or something?” you say, contemplating the explosives laid out in front of you.

Sam raises his eyebrows, adjusting the intercom chip in his ear. “Is that a hunch or are you telling me?”

“Both.” You flex your fingers. “It’s just that announcing ourselves probably isn’t in our best interest right now.”

“And you couldn’t have said that earlier? As in, before we landed?” Sam sighs.

Bucky snorts as you shrug your shoulders helplessly. Your body desperately needed the half hour of uneasy sleep the flight has afforded it, even though your powers seem to be unimpressed by it.

“Look, it’s gonna be fine,” Sam continues, squeezing your arm. “We’ve handled worse. Besides, if they do have an alarm set, they’re gonna come to us whether we knock down that wall or not.”

“I guess,” you mumble, grabbing the explosives. “Let’s play knock-knock with terrorists then, that oughtta be fun.”

“Reminds me of ‘44,” Bucky says, more to himself than to either of you.

When you follow Sam down the hallway once again, you can’t help but search for the cameras you know are hidden here somewhere, but it’s impossible to tell in the dingy light. You should bring a stronger flashlight next ti—no.

You blink, stopping that thought before it’s fully formed.

There won’t be a next time. This thing ends tonight, once and for all.

Third time’s the charm, right?

About as charming as a kick to the face, you think as you find yourself delivering just that.

Sam takes off. “We better get moving. If you take care of the drive and these idiots, I’ll clear the tunnels for a way out of here!”

Bucky catches Sam’s shield as you disarm the white jacket with the knife and duck as the shots ring out. You’re sweating in your kevlar vest.

“Two o’clock, Bucky,” you tell him, throwing another punch. You’re so sick of this white-coated asshole in particular; it’s like they think you’re in the rumble from West Side Story. “And whatever you do, don’t throw that shield, alright?”

“You’re bossy today,” Bucky huffs, taking out the one with the blaster.

“I think you mean thorough,” you reply as Riff finally goes out cold.

“You tell yourself that.” He reloads his gun instead, shield firmly locked around his right arm. “How much longer for the transfer?”

You glance at the monitors and try to remember. “About a minute, maybe two.”

“Sam, you copy?” The last white jacket goes down.

“Ready for take-off in five,” Sam confirms cheerfully. “Heads-up, there’s at least another dozen heading your way.”

“Got it.” Bucky bumps your shoulder as he starts back towards the computers, leaving you only a second to process the different turnout of events.

Shouldn’t he insist on leaving?

The only thing that differentiates this mission from the first one is that you haven’t had to jump back to know what to look out for, and therefore don’t suffer the immediate side effects a redo usually has on you. You suppose that’s what they initially expected your powers to be like; flawless, useful, magical.

It’s like a slap in the face, even though Bucky doesn’t realize he’s doing it. The fact that he really does think lesser of you because of your stupid, faulty powers stings more than you care to admit.

You shake yourself back to the present moment. “Take the drive and then get away from there!” you shout, trying to catch up with him. Your lungs are burning. “They’re gonna blow up the—”

The blast of the explosion throws you backwards and you land on one of the unconscious bodies on the ground. Coughing, you roll to your hands and knees.

“Wha—ppening?” Sam’s cut off voice comes through the broken comms.

“Bucky?” You stumble towards the flaming mess that was the lab corner.

He must have hit his head on the side of the big table, but the shield had protected him from the sharp edge. He’s pressing a hand to his wound and he’s conscious and fine. He’s fine.

You can’t stop a relieved laugh as you crouch down next to him. “Wanna get out of here or what?”

The reflection of the flames makes his eyes almost look green as he squints at you, groaning. “Geez, I hate you.”

“Come on, tough guy,” you say and he lets you pull him to his feet, almost toppling over at his unsteadiness. “Let’s get you home.”

You keep turning around as you make your way to the tunnels, keep looking back towards the staircase you came down, worrying about the reinforcements Sam told you about. Maybe that’s your mistake.

Because you haven’t made it this far before, you don’t think to check that the unconscious white jackets are all still unconscious.

You still have Bucky’s shield arm around your shoulder as he jerks, sensing the motion on his left before you do. He catches the first bullet with his metal arm as you twist out of your hold on him, grabbing your knife and whirling back around. He makes a side step, taking a big swing—

Only you told him not to throw the shield.

And then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and–

“Okay, alright, turn it off, FRIDAY!”

By the time you wipe your mouth and flush the toilet with shaky knees, hair and face still caked with blood, you’re finally starting to understand how well and truly screwed you are.

***

You lean against the fridge, staring at Sam while he’s typing away at the kitchen island. He likes working standing up for some reason, particularly when he has to write some sort of statement.

“If I have to give the speech standing up, I’ve gotta write it standing up,” he’s explained it to you once. You can’t pretend to get it, but you suppose it’s also a perk to be within an arm’s length of snacks at all times while you’re getting stuff done.

“What do you want?” Sam says evenly. His gaze remains fixed on his laptop, his fingers never stopping to move.

You bite your lip. It’s a bad, very bad, terrible idea. You shouldn’t be bothering him with your fuck-up. You don’t even know how to go about it without having him laugh in your face.

“What if I told you that I’m stuck in a time loop?”

The question comes out weirdly flat, as if you’re joking. Fuck, what’s happening to you? You’ve always been fine with being the person who knows more than anyone else in the room. This situation though …

It’s different. It unrattles you in a way your powers never have, because even though it’s your own doing, it also seems so out of your control.

Sam raises an eyebrow, still not looking up. “I’d ask when you started drinking today and why you did it without me.”

Honestly, you should have expected something along these lines as long as you have no way of proving it to him.

“Well,” you say light-heartedly, as if you’re merely chitchatting. “What would you do if you were reliving the same day over and over again?”

“Enjoy my time off, probably,” Sam says, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“I’m serious.”

“And I’m starving. Shouldn’t the food be here by now?”

You check your phone. “About half a minute.”

It gives you an idea for the future.

Lo and behold. You startle the poor delivery guy, opening the front door right before he can knock. “Hi,” you smile, handing him a generous tip. “We don’t know each other, right?”

“Uhm. What?”

“Do you have like, two minutes?”

“Did you have to haggle for them, first?” Sam calls over when you finally make it back to the kitchen, closing his laptop and helping you put down the boxes and containers on the counter.

“Had to convert to Pastafarianism,” you say, getting out the cutlery. “Ready for blasphemy?”

Sam chuckles.

By the time lunch is done and Sam has left for Madison Square Garden, another wave of exhaustion catches up with you. You pull your rings off and leave them on the table before you lie down on the second couch in the living room area, hoping that maybe this time, you’ll get a little bit of rest.

Only once again, it’s no use. Every time you close your eyes, you’re back in the lab, watching Bucky get shot. The background buzz of the TV isn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of your cursed memories.

Or the sound of the cat whining next to your ear.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Alpine settles on your chest this time, leaving long white hairs all over your shirt and hitting you in the face with her tail. You grimace, trying not to inhale any of her fur.

“You’re in her spot.”

You don’t bother turning your aching head. “I thought her spot was over there!” you say accusingly, gesturing vaguely to the other side of the living room.

“Who told you that?” Bucky says, a bemused tone in his voice as he scoops Alpine up in his gloved hands, careful not to touch you. “Move over.”

You blink at him. You did.

You feel his expectant glare on you and sigh.

“Really, you too? We have plenty of room, you know.” You pull your knees in.

“I do,” he says, sitting down next to you and reaching underneath the cushions. “But you’re always hoggin’ the remote.”

You put your cold feet on his thigh in retaliation. Bucky tenses.

“How are you so cold, it’s like ninety degrees outside.”

“Emphasis on outside,” you shrug. “I just run cold.”

“That you do.” He switches channels, then pulls his gloves off and puts them on the table next to your rings.

You bite the inside of your cheek and roll to the floor inelegantly. Alpine meows in disdain, like a knife scratching the whole diameter of a dinner plate.

“Please tell your cat to chill, geez,” you mumble, slumping down on the other couch and stretching your legs out again with a contented sigh.

Bucky doesn’t reply.

“My dear girl,” a thickly accented voice on the TV says, “you cannot keep bumping your head against reality and saying it is not there. The evidence was definite. We can’t remove it by wishing or crying.”

“He trusted me,” a female voice answers. “I led him into a trap, I convicted him. Is that real enough for you?”

“There is no one to blame,” the first voice continues. “The case was a little deeper than you figured. This often happens. You must realize now one thing, it is over for both of you.”

“What are you watching?” you ask.

There’s a short pause before Bucky answers. “Hitchcock. Spellbound.”

You can’t help your reaction.

“Why’d you just do that?” Bucky says.

You stare at the ceiling. “Do what?”

“You flinched.”

“Did not.” You can taste blood in your mouth.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

You turn to the side and demonstratively stare at him, even though it makes your insides twist. Bucky’s face doesn’t change at all as he gazes back at you, frown deepening between his eyebrows. It’s like he’s trying to drown you with the endless blue of his eyes.

You drop your gaze and shake your head.

“What’s your point, Bucky? Not everyone likes staring at people like you do.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird. And invasive.”

“It’s invasive to look at you?”

“Yes,” you say, “if you do it like that.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know!” You sit back up again in exasperation. “What do you want from me, Bucky?”

You look at his face this time, not his eyes. It still makes your cheeks burn, because his jaw sets that way again and he doesn’t immediately respond.

“Something’s wrong,” he says, finally, and you hide your face between your hands in what you can only hope looks like frustration. Then you realize that that’s only making your missing rings more obvious.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you snap, balling your hands into fists.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t have anything to tell you!”

“You promised,” Bucky says coolly. “Remember?”

Your stomach plummets.

“Yes,” you say, forcing your voice to stay calm. “But I’ll take care of it. You don’t have to worry. I’ve got this.”

You feel his eyes on your back all the way to your room, and you’re not sure if you’re lying to him or to yourself, even as you slam the door behind you and look anywhere but your bed.

Your book is lying in the wrong place.

*****

“Honestly, Nat, you could’ve killed her.”

“Don’t be dramatic. She’s made of stronger stuff than that.”

There were yellow dots dancing across your vision when you opened your eyes, groaning at the bright neon lights hitting you in the face.

You were lying on the mat in the gym of the Compound and your nose had been ripped clean off; at least that was what it felt like. Judging by your red-soaked shirt, your guess wasn’t that far off, though.

“Hey,” Natasha said, kneeling down next to you. “Sorry, that must hurt like a bitch.”

“Your head is bery solid,” you replied, touching the blood still dribbling down your face. “Ow.”

“Thank you,” she said and handed you a wet towel. “Put that in your neck and lean your head back.”

“Di’ I faind?”

“You knocked yourself out, honey,” she said with a sly grin.

“It isn’t funny, Nat,” Steve shouted. You snorted, then winced in pain.

“Don’t worry,” Natasha winked. “You’re gonna be as pretty as before once you clean up. Already reset your nose while you were out.”

“Thangs.”

Surprisingly, this was the first serious injury you’d sustained in the past couple of weeks you’ve been living as a rookie Avenger; though in truth, that was mostly due to the fact that Natasha had only had you build up your stamina and agility up until today. Your first proper day in the ring was nothing short of humiliating.

“You could always go back to the moment before you decided to headbutt me,” Natasha said once the bleeding had finally stopped.

You wiped your nose carefully, taking a few breaths to clear your airways. “Sadly, that’s not how it works,” you said, letting her help you slowly come upright again. “I’m the one moving through time, so I stay exactly the same. I can help you guys avoid the punches, but I’ll still be the one receiving them.”

Cursed to stay the same, just like you’d always said.

Natasha tilted her head. “That seems like something you could work on with proper help.”

You grimaced. “I’ve tried that before. There’s no one who can help me, no one who can … fix me, or my powers.”

There was worry in her eyes, then, and you were taken aback by how genuine it seemed. It left a crack in your shell.

“I don’t think that’s true,” she said quietly.

But it was. “I mean it,” you said, your lip twitching. “You can’t tell them that I’m here. For all they know, I got dusted just like everyone else.”

She knew; it had been the one condition you’d set in exchange for your help. That didn’t mean she had to like it.

There was a prolonged pause until Natasha nodded. “All the more reason to get you proper training,” she said, getting back to her feet and helping you up. “Let’s get you some ice cream. Good for the healing.”

You smiled when both she and Steve kept worrying about you the entire way to the kitchen, even though both of them tried hard not to make it obvious. It still filled you with a strange sense of warmth that almost had you forget about the pain.

You were safe here.

Things were finally starting to look up.

chapter three

thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚

#fic rec #Bucky Barnes fic rec #by intrepidacious

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twice-inamillion · 9 hours ago

Text

The Company Series

Sister Reunion

Smut

Chapter 21

2,040 Words

(Welcoming someone new is always nice, so is having a bit of fun. )

“Just one more, you almost got it.”

“Argh, fuck… I can’t! I can’t…”

“Come on, you can do it.”

“Shut up, you’re why I’m in this place.”

Jessica squeezes your hand with all her might. “Argh, I’m so tired…”

The doctor enthusiastically says, “Just one more, almost there.”

Jessica gives one final push, “Argh!”

You feel like your hand is about to break off from the force when you hear a loud cry.

“There you go, “Congratulations to the both of you.”

Jessica finally lets go of your hand and asks, “Doctor, how is he?”

“A perfectly healthy baby boy.”

“Thank god.” Jessica’s relieved after going through so much, “Can I hold him?”

“Of course.”

You watch as the nurse approaches Jessica and gives her the newborn. She holds her baby with precaution and moves the thin blanket covering him. The baby is so tiny, its eyes struggling to open.

“My… my baby,” she says, caressing his face. Hearing his mother’s voice, the newborn slowly extends his hand, wrapping its fingers around her thumb.

——-

It’s been a few weeks since the baby was born. You’ve spent most of your time with Jessica and your child. At first, it was a bit nerve-wracking as you didn’t know how to hold or even change the baby.

Luckily, you picked things up quickly and enjoyed your time with them. You watched as the baby would cry whenever he was hungry and Jessica would immediately feed him. You could feel the sudden change, the motherly warmth she displayed.

“How is it that I’m jealous of my kid?”

Jessica looks at you and says, “This is for the baby.”

“Come on, let me have a taste,” you say as a tease.

”Stop… don’t say that in front of the baby,” she says in a playful tone.

“Then let me put him to sleep.”

Gently, you put the baby in the crib after a few minutes in your arms. It’s hard work but something that you hope to get used to.

As you turn your head, you see Jessica in a relaxed position, her blouse unbuttoned and her breasts completely exposed. She waves you down, “Come on, get mommy’s milk.”

You hip your lips and walk towards Jessica, laying your head on her lap. She slowly kneads her right breast, causing a slight cream fluid to appear from her nipple. She teases you and says, “Come get your drink.”

“Are you for real?”

“You said you wanted some, so here, have a taste.”

There’s no need for second thoughts as you trace your tongue across her nipple. Jessica feels goosebumps from the sudden sensation but doesn’t stop you as she watches you take her breast into your mouth.

“There, there… does it feel good drinking mommy’s milk?”

You nod, increasing the pressure of your suckling. She caresses your head and slowly gets turned on by the position you two are in.

“Let’s have some fun while we’re at it,” she says, looking at your shorts.

She slowly moves her hand, unzipping your shorts, not wanting you to get distracted. She fishes out your limp cock and wraps her cold hands around your member. It startles you, the cold sensation, but you don’t lose your attention on her breast.

Jessica gets a firm grip and slowly pumps your cock, peeling your foreskin until your mushroom head is in full view.

Hungrily, Jessica says, “I missed this cock so much.” You slightly open your eyes and see Jessica licking her lip. “It’s so nice and thick.” You feel her grip get stronger as she pumps you, “I know you’re fucking other women while, in a way, you're a fucken man whore.”

All you do is listen as you continue to suckle on her breast. Her strokes intensify, using your percum as lube. You grunt, “fuck… keep going.”

As she increases her stroking pace, you hear the door suddenly open, “Unnie, I brought you something to eat…” Krystal’s eyes widen at the scene before her, “Umm… sorry…”

“Don’t, it’s fine, come in.”

Krystal walks into the room and tries to avoid eye contact, but the sound of your meat being stoked prevents it. She stands a few feet away, but Jessica calls out for her, “Come, remember this cock?”

Krystal shyly walks towards the both of you and just watches as her older sister strokes your cock. Her eyes focus on the large amount of pre cum leaking from your cock.

With Krystal just above you, Jessica grins and increases the intensity of her strokes. “Remember his cock inside of you? How his cum filled you inside.” Jessica watches as her sister’s breathing becomes heavy, the memory of her being taken by you. Krystal feels herself getting wet just thinking about it.

Suddenly, she feels a hot sensation on her face, which snaps her back to reality. She touches her cheek and looks at her finger, a semi-transparent liquid. “What the hell… did he cum on me?”

Jessica looks at Krystal and says, “Sorry, he couldn’t hold it any longer. Look, he’s still leaking.” Krystal remains silent, watching as the tip of your cock slowly releases a stream of cum.

“Be a good younger sister and clean him off, please.”

“What? Wh…why should I?”

“Please…. You know I would, but, you know…” and looks at you, still sucking on her breast.

“Fuck, fine… where’s the tissues…”

Jessica tries to hold her grin, “Oh, I didn’t mean to use tissues; that’s a waste. How about you use your mouth.”

“What? Why?”

“Don’t you know how precious his cum is?”

“But…”

“Do it…”

Krystal realizes how serious her sister is about this. She nods and slowly sits on the opposite side of Jessica. She gulps as she sees your cock covered in cum. Her body trembles as she puts her tongue on your slimy cum covered cock.

“Come on, Krystal, lick it off like a good girl.”

She whines, but deep down, she feels a sense of adrenaline from being treated so poorly. Slowly, she licks the base of your crotch, working her way from the bottom.

Eventually, after much licking, she gets to the tip of your cock. “Go on, have a taste from the source.”

Krystal grabs your cock and slowly presses it between her lips. Her mouth stretches as she takes most of your cock. She slowly bobs her head, remembering the previous time she had with you.

On the other side, you feel Krystal’s hot mouth on your cock and give a slight view. Jessica turns your cheek and kisses you, distracting you from what’s below. She suddenly whispers in your ear, “Go on, baby, have a little fun. She’s told me she can’t forget that one night.”

Your expression changes, and grabs Krystal’s head, “Your sister said you like my cock.” Krystal lifts her head and notices your smirk, causing her heart to suddenly beat faster.

“Come on, this cock isn’t going to suck itself.”

“Uh..uh…”

”Uh.. what? Go on.”

Krystal's body trembles, and nervously nods her head. She goes back to pleasuring your cock. She feels your gaze, knowing that you’re watching her as she goes down on you.

“Fuck… try taking more of it…”

She tries taking more of your member into her mouth, but it’s too much. Her mouth is already at her limit; she feels like her mouth would break. Krystal looks up and sees your face, “Go on…”

You get frustrated as Krystal takes her time and decides to give her a helping hand. Without her noticing, you put your hands around the back of her head and push her down. Krystal eyes widen by your sudden action. She feels her mouth stretch to its limit and tries to pull away but can't. It might just be a slight amount of pressure, but it’s too much for her small frame.

Krystal feels like her jaw is about to break, and a slight panic kicks in. She looks up at you and notices your face of satisfaction. She’d seen that face before with her boyfriend whenever she would go down on him and get upset when he would be forceful. With you, it was another story; she knew that you could be sweet based on your interaction with her sister but knows that getting you upset wasn’t something she would want to do.

She takes a deep breath and lets herself be used by your cock. You bob her head on your cock, feeling every part of her mouth and throat. You feel no resistance coming from Krystal and continue to enjoy yourself.

“Your mouth feels so good. You two are really sisters, haha.”

You press her head deeper, reaching her throat even more. The deeper you push, the more of a reaction you get from her. “I can’t stand it anymore, I’m going to fuck your face.”

Krystal’s facial expression changes as she feels a tighter grip around her head. She begins to gag as you thrust your cock back and forth. “Fuck, yes. That’s it.”

“Gawk, gawk, gawk…”

All you hear is the sound of your cock hitting Krystal’s throat, becoming a real-life fleshlight. Little by little, the lack of air causes her to panic; she puts her hands on your thighs and tries to push you off.

Instead, you hold her tighter than before, wanting to see her struggle with the remaining air she has. Krystal pushes you once more; she gives you a few smacks on the leg, signaling that she’s about to pass out.

She looks at you, and you can see the look on her face; she is begging you to help her. Words like, “Please, stop, I can’t breathe” go through her brain, but she can’t say out loud.

With her head on your hands, you feel Krystal tremble, her eyes twitching and starting to roll back. Suddenly, your balls explode and pour into Krystal's throat. You hold her with all your might as you pump her stomach full of your thick milk.

Krystal’s eyes finally roll back completely as her last remaining air runs out. “That was good,” you say as you pull out your flaccid cock out of her mouth.

Krystal slips off and hits the floor, your cum oozing out of her. You watch as there is no reaction from her. You kneel and grab her face, giving it a gentle slap.

*Cough, cough*

Krystal coughs heavily as her body takes in as much air as possible. “Look at the camera, little sis.”

Jessica snaps a series of pictures of her sister and says, “This is what you get for getting on my bad side.”

———

You’re returning to Korea after spending a few weeks with Jessica and your child. Currently, you’re in a conference call with Jieun to discuss the final details about the survival show that you and JYP plan on doing soon.

“Everything is going well with the preparations. You should have the most up-to-date information on the survival show.”

“Thanks for your hard work while I was gone.”

”It’s no problem, sir. I’m more than happy to step in when needed.”

There is a brief silence, “Something on your mind, Jieun?”

”Yes, sir. I have some news.”

”Go on.”

”I’m sending you a file through your secure phone.”

*Ding*

You grab your phone, see it’s a jpeg attachment, and download it. The screen changes, and you see Jisoo, Jennie, Rosé, and Lisa standing in a line, holding something in their hand. Your expression changes, “Is it what I think it is?”

”Yes, sir. Congratulations on breeding all four members.”

You can’t help but have a large smile and ask, “What was their reaction?”

”Jisoo and Jennie took it quite well. Lisa was a bit confused at the beginning but accepted the fact. Rosé, on the other hand, was bawling at the news and locked herself out for a whole day, but after a firm talk, I made her understand her position in the company.”

”Good…”

“I’m glad you’re pleased, sir.”

”Relay a message to them.”

”Of course.”

”Tell them that I expected a lovely welcome when I arrive.”

#kpop smut #male reader #TM smut #the company series #the company #company series #snsd jessica smut #jessica jung smut #krystal smut #Krystal Jung smut #g idol x male reader #idol x male reader #girl idol smut #kpop idol smut #idol smut #girls generation smut

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newtonsheffield · 2 days ago

Note

why am I crying imagining anthony being super involved and present during the pregnancy. and kate getting to go through it this time with the love of her life 😭

I think it’s really special for both of them. Of course it’s the biggest regret of Anthony’s life that he wasn’t ready to be with Kate and that means he inadvertently missed the birth of his child. Of course it is. But in a way he cherishes the bond Kate and Neddy have because it serves as a reminder for him that he needs to keep moving forward. He can’t go back there. He needs to keep getting better for himself, for Neddy, for Kate, for the new baby. He’s excited to have the chance to be there this time. He’s excited to have his wife tossing and turning in bed beside him because she wants spicy food in the middle of the night. He’s excited to go to a class to learn how to give a great lower back massage because Kate’s probably going to want it by the seven month mark. Every tiny little thing Anthony’s excited about. Picking out paint for the nursery? Amazing. Supervising Benedict who’s doing a mural? He’ll watch him like a hawk. Picking out a name even though he already knows what they’re going to call their son from the minute he finds out they’re having another boy.

“Henry?”

Anthony shrugged, “It’s okay.”

“God, do you want to call him something really white? Is it Bartholomew?”

Anthony chuckled, “You already know what you should call him.”

“… Anthony 2?”

“I think to be perfectly correct it’d be Anthony jnr. And god, please no.” He leaned his head back against her legs. “Miles.”

Her smile softened, “I wanted to call Neddy Miles.”

“I know. And I love it. Miles Sharma- Bridgerton. That’s a good name.”

“It’s a very good name.”

Anthony thought it might feel different. He’s wondered Holding Miles as a baby for the first time would feel different than the first time he saw Neddy but it’s not. He feels the same rush of pride and love that this is his child. His to protect and care for and that’s just as special.

Obviously Kate had Mary and Edwina to support her through her pregnancy with Neddy. She wasn’t alone. But this feels different, with Anthony. It’s his baby as well, and it’s nice to have someone to revel in the joy of it right alongside her. There’s less anxiety this time as well. Less stress because she’s done it before and she has a partner this time. A partner who, she flatters herself, absolutely adores her. Anthony’s almost too eager to help. Every 25 seconds he ducks his head in.

“Do you need anything, Trouble?”

He’s right there. It’s so nice to have someone to roll over to in the middle of the night and nudge awake.

“I think me made a mistake with the bassinet.”

Anthony blinked at her, his hair sticking up. “What? What time is it?”

“Nearly 3. Your son’s got his foot lodged under my ribs so I’m just brainstorming.”

Anthony sat up, tucking his arm around her, pressing the palm of his hand against the swell of her stomach. “Go to sleep, please Miles. Amma’s tired.”

It’s sweet. So sweet it makes her chest ache and tears prick at her eyes. “I still think we should get a different bassinet.”

“Why?” Anthony yawned, always so far from complaining. “Opening statements please.”

It feels special for them both. Especially having Neddy there as well who likes to sit with his hand on Kate’s stomach, showing his brother his toys.

“When you get big we can play together. Me and you and Newtie can do all kinds of stuff!”

#surprise neddy au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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monolotus · 19 hours ago

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°˖✧◝ (𝙠𝙚𝙮𝙨 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮) ◜✧˖°

includes: wonwoo fighting, mentions of reader having a period, ramyeon

[05:54 a.m]

wonu👾: having breakfast with mingyu! long day ahead 😢

[07:32 a.m]

wonu👾: good morning sleepy head!

[08:06 a.m]

wonu👾: let me know when you wake up!

[11:00 a.m]

wonu👾: just catching up! about to enter the studio, talk to you in a bit💗

[15:53 p.m]

wonu👾: it’s almost four, there’s no way you are still sleeping

[missing call]

[missing call 2]

[15:57 p.m]

wonu👾: are you mad?

wonu👾: if you are mad, at least let me know you are okay.

[16:37 p.m]

wonu👾: i don’t remember you having anything in your calendar, are you at the library? a caffe?

[17:25 p.m]

wonu👾: about to enter practice!

wonu👾: if i’m done and you haven’t replied yet, i’ll be going to your apartment

[19:57 p.m]

wonu👾: babe?

[missing call]

[19:59 p.m]

wonu👾: got left off early, im coming

Wonwoo had been busy all day, their manager bickering whenever he would get a break to text you during work. He couldn’t help it though, it was so rare of you to not reply to his texts. Not only that, but he had to re-write his entire verse in the next title track, as the co-producers said “it didn’t fit the flow”. So, on top of all his work, he hadn’t gotten a single message from you since last night.

He hadn’t seen you active on social media either, this only making him worry more.

As he got closer to the door of your apartment, he could feel his heart almost escaping from his chest as he saw the door unlocked. Why was your door unlocked? Were you with somebody? Had somebody break in?

Filled with questions, he quickly got into your apartment, starting to call out your name.

Going to the kitchen, he grabbed one of the largest knifes he could find, while holding his phone in the other. Ready to call for help if needed. Slowly, he started going to each room- the bathroom, the laundry room, even the little balcony you had.

The door to your room was slightly open, and he could only think the worse. Cracking it open, he saw your figure hugging a foxdungee. With a confused expression on his face, he let the knife in one of the shelves, before reaching for you, only for you to jump once you realized he was there.

“Wonwoo! You could’ve killed me!” You yelled, clutching at your shirt, catching your breath.

“I mean, yeah, you know why? You let the door open! Anybody could’ve break in! How could you forget to lock the door? Is something so dumb! You couldn’t even do that?” He was being harsh on you, but his own heart was beating like crazy- you hadn’t answered any of his texts or calls in the whole day, and you were just in your bed the entire day? He was exhausted after taking criticism and what nots from his members and staff the whole day.

“Well, good thing the building has security! Don’t yell at me, it was a silly mistake!” You pouted, your head had been pounding the entire day, your lower stomach felt hard with each cramp, and you had just woken up, your body too tired and numb to allow you to do something besides sleeping in.

“You’re right, you’re an adult. You should know better than to disappear the whole day and leave your door open to whoever wants to break in, right?” With that being said, he got out of the room, closing the door maybe a little too hard for his own liking.

With a sigh, he took off his shoes (too worried to see you to take them off before entering your home) and took back the knife to grab three packs of the ramyeon you always kept on hand, he started boiling the water.

He took a glance at your apartment, the sofa having one too many blankets, a pack of oreo out of the fridge and the bottle of peanut butter took his attention, a combination you only ate on a specific situation… Checking the calendar on his phone, he let a new sigh. You were pretty regular with your period, also this being one of the few things that can make you feel under the weather so easily.

He started cleaning the little mess you had on your house, waiting until the ramyeon would be ready.

Once he had set the table, he went back to your room. Knocking softly, he entered the space once again.

“Baby, i’m so sorry.” He murmured, seeing you covering even more of your body with the tick cover, “I thought you were just being childish, I didn’t know what date was.”

“Whatever you say, Wonwoo” you whispered, feeling his weight beside you, and his hand caressing your back.

“I’m so sorry” he whispered, pulling the blanket off you just enough to start kissing the little exposed skin of your face. “I should’ve asked if you were okay before overreacting like that. I was just stressed from practice.”

“Then fight with Hoshi and Jihoon, not with your beautiful but cramped girlfriend.” As you let off the blanket, you decided that receiving kisses from your boyfriend was more important that being petty.

Taking the hint, Wonwoo laid with you, starting to bombard your face with kisses. Hugging you tightly, suddenly the days stress started to disappear and the shame of yelling at you started to replace it.

“I’m sorry, jagiya” he murmured against your neck, “But I was worried, you hadn’t replied to a single text of mine”

“Because I was sleeping, Wonu. When have I not talk to you, even when mad?” you replied, with a heavy sigh. “Let’s eat, I can smell the ramyeon from here”

Later at night, when you were wrapped to your boyfriend’s torso while trying to fall asleep, you could only hide the smile that came with your boyfriend becoming so needy for you to accept his apologies. Obviously, a lot of kisses was the perfect payment.

˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹-˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹-

more / ask & request are open!

#Wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo images #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #----𝓡eq #thanks again for requesting!#i aprecciate it so much ^^#𝓛otusflower

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libbythatcherssecretgf · 2 days ago

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Pocket Sized Comfort

Lilia Calderu x Fem! Reader

——————————————————————————-

Synopsis: You are a witch with the ability to shrink yourself to as small as you want. You need comfort from Lilia so much it almost hurts.

Word Count: 2.0k~

Content Warning: thanatophobia, anxiety, Fluff, boobs (but not sexual).

Tags: @ahsfan05 @grifffins @kenzie-floops @multixfan @imorynn @im-a-carnivorous-plant @renyfisher @alittlewitchyone @madamspellmans-met-tet

Notes: Inspired by the studio Ghibli movie “The secret world of Arrietty.” I’m also very touched starved, and my main love language is touch. So you get this. 💋 word translations & outfit references will be at the bottom

——————————————————————————

It was a chilly spring morning, fog in the air and dew left on the grass. Coming from the chimneys was thick black smoke, blowing with the wind. The remnants of the wood burning to warm all the homes of families tucked away in their beds. Much to early for regular working class adults, and children waiting to go to school to be up for the day. Yet you stir, a chill running up your spine.

Pulling the blanket tightly over your shoulders, you shiver and reach for Lilia. Her side of the bed lie cold, the covers back in place. Like she hadn’t been there when you went to sleep a couple hours prior. With a sigh, you rub yours eyes. Sitting up, and immediately rubbing your arms to try and warm yourself up. The bedroom window was open, figures. Lilia loves these chilly mornings, she says her tea is the best when she’s a little cold.

After a good yawn and stretch. You throw the covers off yourself, and swing your legs over the side of the bed. Toeing your bunny slippers on, and snatching your robe quickly off the bed post. Sliding it on with ease, and tying the robe around your waist. It was a old robe of Lilia’s, having mismatched squares of fabrics from when it would get a tear. Lilia hated that you loved it so much, she found it to be embarrassing. She hated how poor her financial situation had been when you both first met. Not that it was much better now, but you weren’t thousands of dollars in debt anymore So neither of you were going to complain.

The sound of the kettle whistling that shrilling sound. Singled that Lilia was in the kitchen, most likely sewing at the kitchen table, while nursing her 3rd or 4th cup of tea. She’d always been an early morning person, being up before dawn like clock work. It drove you mad at times, because you’d much rather wake up cuddled into her so tightly it almost hurts.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sliding the room divider that you bought at the flea market open, you smile when you’re met with a smile from Lilia. She was in her deep green silk robe, with silver lacing on the trims. A Valentine’s Day gift from you to her a couple years back. Her salt a pepper curls hanging loosely against her shoulders, and her face bare of her usual makeup. She looked beautiful, and most importantly warm. It was steamy in the kitchen, and the warm glow of the sunlight streaming through the white lace curtains made her glow like an Angel.

“Good Morning, Amuri Miu.”

Lilia’s voice helps to wake you, while you greet her with a tender kiss to the lips. She lets out a raspy moan, muffled against your lips. Her hand full of rings, curved around your back. When you break the kiss, it’s immediately followed by nuzzling your face into her neck. Feeling her soft, thin skin against your cheek.

“Comu durmìsti? Vuliti lu tè?”

Your response to her questions is a simple grunt, it’s sounded like a whine. You were feeling unusually uneasy, and your skin hurt. Holding onto her, smelling her perfume and the tangy scent of her sweat. It was a comfort that you had grown all to used to. So much so, that a couple days apart might as well been considered torture.

“I slept good, but I am still tired.”

You finally answer after you’ve spent more then a couple minutes just letting Lilia hold you her hand gently rubbing your back, while her other one was moving your hair away from your neck. The coolness of her multitude of her rings felt searing against your skin. However, in a very good way, it made you feel awake, alive, comforted. In moments where your mind felt disconnected from your body, Lilia was grounding. She made you feel real, like you weren’t just floating around in life.

Although there was an ache in your bones, that reached deep into your soul. You didn’t feel complete in the moment, your entire being craving another leave of closeness with the woman you considered to be your whole world. Wanting to merge your bodies completely, you’re veins tangling together. Hearts pulsing together, as your very earthly bodies live & die together.

The breathing of her warm breathes against you neck made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand up like you’d been struck with lightning. Her soft lips pressing soothing kisses lightly against the sensitive skin of your neck. Giving you silent reassurance that she’s here, she’s got you. But that wasn’t enough, in this moment. You needed to be enveloped in the warmth of her body entirely.

“My darling girl, what’s the matter?”

Lilia’s voice is gentle, with a twinge of worry seeping through. Her fingers continuing to play with the strands of your hair. You can feel her gaze so fervent that you can feel it physically. She was worried, she always worried.

“You’re not close enough.”

Your voice sounds embarrassingly small, you feel exposed, like a small child. You couldn’t help it though, you were terrified of loosing her. Loosing the sun to your moon. The earth to your ocean. The stars to your comets. Her visions only worried you, you were well aware her timeline wasn’t the same as yours. That made your mind suffer, suffocating you with the need to know she’s safe.

This prompts a deep and throaty chuckle from Lilia. She was clearly amused by how much you adored her. It made her happy, and made you feel loved. It’s a good feeling to know that she’s finally convinced that you actually adore her. It what felts like eternity for that to happen. She was so guarded, and solemn about romantic affection. Especially compliments, she was so damn stubborn when it came to compliments.

“It’s alright dear. You can have your time.”

She whispers into your ear. Placing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. Her chocolate brown eyes, large and understanding. Her smile lines deepening, while her mouths turns upwards in a genuine smile.

….

Taking that opportunity, you carefully used your magic while she took hold of your hips softly. The warmth of the coral energy flowing through your veins, muscles, and blood streams. Gradually turning your 5’3 self into a size smaller then a mouse. Cupped gently in Lilia’s palms. While you blink and rub your eyes. Getting used to your new size, and how everything looked and sounded differently.

Once you adjusted, you’re met with Lilia’s kind smile. Her thumb gently caressing the top of your hair, petting you like you’re made of the most delicate glass. She had a tendency to get very soppy whenever you got tiny. As if she was looking at the cutest creature she had ever laid her eyes on. Which was exactly the case to her.

“You ready sweetheart?”

You nod, reaching your arms out when she brings you to her chest. Transferring you to only one hand, so she can use the other to pull her robe and bra from her skin. Guiding you to the crevice between her soft breasts. Her bra just big enough where it dipped down in the middle. Creating sort of a hammock, where you could tuck yourself away comfortably. Nuzzled in between her breasts. The warmth of them consuming you entirely. While she pulls her shirt back over you, and the darkness falls over you.

It was the most peaceful you’ve ever felt in your life when you were here. Nuzzled close to her heart, listening to her breathing and heartbeat. While her perfect boobies where not only keeping you warm, but also were the perfect walls, enveloping you in pure comfort. No one would ever know that you were in her bra. Unless they saw you of course. It was the perfect way that she could keep you close, keep you safe. While also combatting your thanatophobia, by letting you physically feel her heartbeat with your entire body.

Another perk was that you to quite literally go anywhere with her. When she goes to the market for fresh produce, you’re asleep in her bra. When she’s at the bank having meetings about payments plans for her debt, you’re nestled in that little hammock area. Talking notes, or kneading at her flesh gently when she gets tense. She has to work overtime? Fine, you squished yourself far into her breasts.

If it was a day where she didn’t feel like wearing a bra fine. She’s tuck you into the pocket of her pants or coat. Sneaking up crumbs of her lunch or dinner if she went out. Did you have to do it that. No, absolutely not. However, what’s the fun in being normal? Exactly. Not only did it add a layer of complexity, but it was also fun. It’s a nice way for the both of you to be together all the time. Not that you didn’t have your alone times. You did, but you preferred to be in each others presence. Being that grounding force for the both of you.

It was also good for when she had visions. Her heart rate would increase a few moments before. If you were tucked against her chest, you could warn her of a vision and get her to sit down. It was rare, but there were times where a particularly bad vision would make her loose her balance. You wanted her safe, to keep her safe the best you could. Just like she does for you.

“Would you like some tea?”

She asks you once more, humming while she goes back to making breakfast. The pop of the kettle opening, and the steam flowing into the air around you. The hot air warming her face and chest. Which only made you more content.

“Sounds nice.”

Your voice also sounds like a purr, so deeply content and a little sleepy.

“Coming right up.”

You hum out in content, while Lilia moves around. Keeping your eyes closed, used to the rocking about of her movement. The air smelt like cinnamon and basil. Lilia liked to grow her own herbs, partly to save me, but also because she was deeply connected with Mother Nature. Taking comfort, and dependence with the realms of nature. She also used cinnamon sticks for different recipes, and other bits and bobs she does. You didn’t complain, because it smelt to good. She also always added it to your tea or your hot chocolate without having to be asked.

Before you know it, you’re leaning outside the hammock of her bra. Hands holding a thimble full of herbal tea, while watching a cheesy soap opera with Lilia It was all painfully domestic, and in all honesty. Neither of you wouldn’t want it to be any other way.

…

It was around a week later, a nice Sunday afternoon. The sun was shining, almost blindingly through the open windows of the tiny one room apartment. Lilia’s pretty, lacy white bra was strung up on a nail in one of the cabinets. Where you were nestled peacefully, reading a book. Meanwhile, Lilia is standing at the kitchen counter. Using a mortar and pestle to crush and grind different herbs into healing compounds. While simultaneously reading the recipe from an old guide to natural remedies book she recently bought. She was very focused, some of her grey curled have escaped from her hair clip. Hanging loosely to frame her face, while her brows are scrunched together, lips pursed.

She looked very focused, which only made you smile even more. One of your favorite sights was seeing her in her element, so enamored with the work she is doing, using what Mother Nature had proved for her. Turning it into something useful, and potentially live saving. That’s just the kind of person she is. Also her specialty is divination, she was prompted early on to also be a healer. Although she wouldn’t claim the title herself, and firmly deny it. There was no doubt, she knew what to do when illness or minor injury would occur.

It only made you love her more.

——————————————————————————

Robe References: Lilia’s ~ Reader’s

Sicilian Word Translations (not perfect, I had to google) :

Amuri Miu - My love

Duci - Sweetie

Comu durmìsti? Vuliti lu tè? - How'd you sleep? Do you want tea? [rough translation]

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misakiisstupid · 1 day ago

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Headcanon: Dick Grayson, Mother Hen Extraordinaire (But in Denial)

Look, Dick wants to act like he’s the cool, independent, ex-circus-kid-turned-badass-vigilante. The “big bro who lets you get away with things and gives questionable advice” type. But the second anyone in the Manor so much as sneezes, trips, or looks a little sad, he’s on them like Alfred on a wrinkled shirt.

Tim forgets to eat? Dick is physically dragging him to the kitchen while pretending it’s just “bro bonding.”

Jason looks the slightest bit tired? Boom, a coffee (exactly how he likes it) magically appears in front of him.

Damian gets hurt? Suddenly, Dick is calling him “Dami” and inspecting every single inch of him for injuries like a worried mother.

Bruce broods too hard? “Dad— I mean, Bruce, get some sleep. You're literally Batman but you need rest like the rest of us mortals.”

Even Alfred isn't immune. "Alfie, have you eaten? No, don't lie to me, I will get Babs involved."

He thinks he’s subtle about it, but everyone sees right through him. Even Damian, who will never admit he appreciates it. Jason gives him endless grief about it, but still shows up to his apartment when he's sick, knowing Dick will fuss over him. Tim actively abuses the system by mentioning he "might" be catching a cold just to get free soup.

Dick, sighing as he tucks a blanket around a passed-out Tim: “I’m not a mom, okay? I just care about you idiots.” Jason, sipping his perfectly made coffee: “Yeah, sure, Mom.” Damian, wrapped in a blanket he totally did not ask for: “Hn.” Bruce, pretending to ignore the mug of tea Dick left on his desk: “…Thank you.”

Mother Hen? Absolutely. Will he admit it? Never.

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softspiderling · 3 days ago

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illicit affairs - interlude

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

summary: We’re so back.

word count: 643

author’s note: remember me???? before we fully dive into s2 of illicit affairs, i wanted to do a little interlude. pick you up where we left off, bring the right emotions in the game. you feel me. see u again soon

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

INTERLUDE

“You guys know the drill and the house. Find your room, feel at home, and don’t bother me for like an hour, I need some shut eye.”

Rafe’s voice was already distant as you walked towards your room - the biggest guest room the house had, with an en-suite.

Nassau greeted you with incredibly sunshine when you first arrived. Since Rafe’s family had taken the private jet to Spain, the four of you had to fly commercial, which always brought some stress. Adding your aversion to flying, you were tired when you arrived. Still, it felt freeing, when the plane had taken off, like you were leaving all your problems at home. Your parents weren’t exactly thrilled about this trip, but you didn’t leave them much room for disagreeing either: your mother still felt bad for what had happened at the Spring Fling and your dad knew the best right now was to give you some space.

Rolling your suitcase into the room, which was severely overpacked, you let the door shut behind you, before you flopped down on the bed face first, sighing softly. You nearly dozed off, when you heard the door creak open, it was so quiet, you had nearly missed it with the whirring of the AC.

Peering an eye open, you saw Rafe slipping into the room, quietly shitting the door again. While you hadn’t exactly talked about how things were going to be while you were here, you had assumed things were on pause, given how risky it was to do anything, while sharing a roof with Kelce and Topper.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Getting some shut eye.”

As if that answered any questions you had.

Nevertheless, Rafe got on the bed next you, nudging you until you were slotted against his side. You were too tired to argue, eye lids heavy. You had left early in the morning, and all the excitement of getting here had left, leaving you with exhaustion, and with Rafe’s thumb rubbing soft circles into the skin under your top, it was easy to fall asleep.

When you stirred awake again, you were disoriented. The sun was low, shining into your room and someone’s warm body was pressed to your side.

Right.

“Hey,” you mumbled, gently nudging Rafe, but he only groaned, burrowing deeper into the pillow.

“Five more minutes.”

“Rafe, I think we’ve slept for like, over an hour,” you said, reaching for your phone to check the time.

“Then we can stay up even longer tonight.”

“Rafe.”

Rafe sighed, before he stirred away, looking at you with bleary eyes, clearly grumpy.

“Is there any way I can convince you to sleep a little longer?”

His voice was low, and gravelly from sleep, as he splayed his hands under your top against your backside, while you tried to squirm away, laughing.

“You know that Kelce and Topper are always only a few feet away, right?”

“The house is bigger than that,” Rafe grumbled, but slowly sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Do you think I can go lay down in my room some more?”

Before you could answer his question, you could hear someone racing down the stairs, before music blared out of the stereo.

“So what are the plans for tonight? I need some drinks!”

“I guess resting time is over,” you mused and Rafe only groaned, his head falling back on the pillow, pulling the blanket over his head to drown out Kelce’s music. Snickering, you get out of bed, flipping open your suitcase to find something to wear.

“I’m gonna kill Kelce,” Rafe said from under the blankets and you rolled your eyes, amused. If the four of you got back from this trip in one piece, you’d be surprised.

Ignorance is bliss.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: ooop

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron series #outer banks #obx #drew starkey

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so-very-small · 20 hours ago

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executive disfunction so bad that i get caught by a giant and i decide to escape but i put it off for a while and oh shit now i’m tired so i’ll sleep and then try to escape but when i wake up i need to have some tea and ease into my morning before doing anything and before i know it i procrastinate escaping so hard that i wind up living with the giant for six whole months

#g/t #giant tiny #never underestimate my ability to put shit off til later #im struggling today lads why is my brain like this

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hazelira · 2 days ago

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part 2 of more than 143

The cold air nipped at your skin as you swung your legs off the bed, stretching your arms above your head with a tired sigh. Your body still felt heavy from sleep, but hunger gnawed at your stomach, reminding you that you had skipped breakfast.

You glanced at the bathroom door, debating whether to shower first or eat. Your pyjamas were comfortable, and you didn’t feel like changing yet. You’d freshen up after brunch.

Padding toward the bedroom door, you reached for the handle, already thinking about what to make—maybe something warm, something comforting—anything to distract yourself from the weight of this morning’s emptiness.

But the moment you pulled the door open, all thoughts vanished.

Because standing right there, breathless, dripping wet from the rain, was Heeseung.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, his black hoodie clinging to his frame, soaked through. Raindrops dripped from his hair, trailing down his sharp jawline. His hands hung loosely at his sides, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he should.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you crashed into him before a single word could leave his lips.

His breath hitched as you threw your arms around his torso, pressing against him without hesitation. You didn’t care that his clothes were wet, didn’t care that the rain had made him cold—you just needed to hold him.

And he let you.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, his arms wrapping around you so tightly it was as if he was afraid you’d disappear. His fingers pressed into your back, his chin resting against your head as he clung to you like a lifeline.

“I—” He started, voice hoarse, but he couldn’t finish.

Because he didn’t have the words.

I didn’t know how to explain how he had run—sprinted—through the rain to get back to you. The moment the mission was over, he hadn’t even waited for his men. I hadn’t cared about anything but you.

How badly he had needed to see you, hold you, remind himself that you were still here, still waiting for him.

The guilt burned in his throat.

He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve you.

And yet, you were here, burying your face into his chest and gripping him like you never wanted to let go.

Heeseung squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling your scent beneath the faint smell of rain and his own regret.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain still pouring outside.

You shook your head against him.

“You came back,” you murmured.

And that was enough.

For now, it was enough.

Heeseung tightened his arms around you, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, silently swearing to himself—next time, he’d come back sooner.

Or maybe…

He wouldn’t leave at all.

Heeseung was still catching his breath when you pulled back slightly, your hands sliding down his arms until your fingers found his. His skin was cold and damp from the rain, but his touch was so warm that it sent a shiver up your spine.

“You need a shower,” you murmured, voice laced with something soft yet teasing.

Heeseung blinked down at you, lips parting slightly as if to protest, but you were already tugging him toward the bathroom. His soaked hoodie clung to his body, droplets dripping onto the floor with each step, and you knew if he stayed in those wet clothes any longer, he’d end up sick.

“Wait, you—” He hesitated when you pushed open the bathroom door. “You mean together?”

You turned your head slightly, glancing at him from over your shoulder. The way his voice wavered, barely above a whisper, sent a thrill through your chest.

“Obviously,” you hummed, tilting your head. “Or do you want to freeze to death?”

Heeseung swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His ears, already tinted pink from the cold, darkened further. “N-No. I just—”

You didn’t let him finish.

Reaching for the hem of his hoodie, you peeled the drenched fabric over his head, exposing the toned lines of his torso. His skin was ice-cold to the touch, causing a frown to tug at your lips as your fingers brushed against him.

“You ran all the way here in the rain,” you muttered, hands ghosting over his chest.

Heeseung gave a breathy chuckle, his hands hesitantly settling on your waist. “You think I’d take my time when I knew you were waiting for me?”

Your heart squeezed.

Instead of answering, you reached for your clothes, slipping your pyjama top over your head. Heeseung sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers twitching against your skin. His eyes flickered to yours, searching, asking.

And when you took his hand and pulled him under the warm stream of water, he let you.

The heat washed over both of you, steam curling around your bodies, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. You stood there, feeling the warmth seep into your skin, feeling Heeseung’s presence so close, so real.

His hands found your waist again, with more certainty, his fingers brushing against your damp skin. You looked up at him, droplets of water sliding down his face, darkening the strands of his hair.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, tilting your head.

Heeseung exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “Can you blame me?”

You smiled, reaching for the bottle of shampoo. “Turn around.”

He raised a brow but did as told, letting you lather his hair, your fingers massaging his scalp in slow, deliberate motions. His shoulders visibly relaxed under your touch, and a quiet hum of contentment left his lips.

“If you keep doing that, I might never leave,” he murmured, leaning into your touch.

You grinned. “Maybe that’s the plan.”

Heeseung turned slightly, just enough to catch your gaze. His eyes, dark and filled with something unreadable, held yours for a beat too long.

Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips.

“Then I guess I’ll have to stay.”

When you were both dressed, fresh and warm, your stomach grew loud enough for Heeseung to hear.

He laughed as you dragged him toward the kitchen, your hand gripping his like you were afraid he’d disappear if you let go.

“You’re hungry, huh?” he teased, plopping down into the chair while you grabbed ingredients.

“You’d be too if you skipped breakfast,” you shot back, opening the fridge. “What do you want?”

Heeseung hummed, tapping his fingers against the table. “Anything you make is fine.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile on your lips as you started preparing food. Heeseung, of course, couldn’t just sit still. He approached behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You’re clingy today,” you mused, flipping a pancake.

“You almost tackled me when I got back,” he countered, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Who’s the clingy one?”

Heat rose to your cheeks, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “Shut up and set the table.”

He chuckled but obeyed, grabbing plates and utensils before sitting across from you.

As you ate, Heeseung’s foot nudged yours under the table, a small smile tugging at his lips.

And for the first time in a long while, he felt something settle deep in his chest—something warm, something real.

Something like home.

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stevieschrodinger · 9 hours ago

Text

Part One Forty

“I’m not sure about this,” Eddie says quietly.

“It’ll be fine, and you need to learn, it’s been over a year, what if you fall in the pool?”

“I’m not gonna’,” Eddie tells him stubbornly.

“You can’t know that. We have to keep you safe.” It’s mid afternoon on a weekday, so the place is pretty deserted. Steve looks around the changing room real quick, but it’s definitely empty. He pulls Eddie close by the hem of his shirt, kissing him softly on the lips, “you’re going to do fine.” Eddie had spent the first six months of last year concentrating on basic motor function and gaining weight, not to mention getting a pretty good grasp on a whole language, learning to drive, learning to play guitar, plus all the other stuff he’s gotten up to. And then suddenly he had a job and Eddie made friends with Chrissy, there was all that stuff with Owens, and before Steve really knew it, it was too cold again to use their pool.

Eddie really needed to learn how to swim without a tail.

Eddie follows Steve out of the changing rooms and to the edge of the pool, “ow ow ow,” he picks his way carefully along the tile.

“They’re not that bad,” the anti slip ridges in the tile feel a little weird, but not painful. Eddie just glares at him.

“No one else has a shirt on,” he whispers when he finally makes it to Steve, but he needs to wear it because of the no nipples and no belly button thing.

There’s like two other people in the pool, both older guys swimming laps, “no one cares babe,” Steve whispers, before sitting on the edge and slipping in, the water only coming up as far as his middle. “In you get.”

“This is stupid,” Eddie says as he copies Steve, following him into the water, his trunks ballooning a little with air and the material of his shirt darkening and clinging to his skin.

“Everyone should know how to swim,” Steve tells him for about the fiftieth time.

“Legs are stupid,” Eddie grumbles.

Steve squats down, bringing the water to chin level, “okay come on we’re going to stay right here, now float.”

Eddie does, flopping over, Steve’s hand under his middle to steady him and stop him from sinking if he panics, “good now...kick with your stupid legs.”

“I’m so tired,” Eddie sits curled up on the bench in the changing room while Steve gets dressed.

“You did good though,” and Steve is now confident that Eddie won't actually drown if he falls in some water.

Eddie breathes out a long sigh, “I’m so slow now.”

“Yeap, just a regular human guy. How awful for you.” Eddie manages to muster a scowl, “go in the cubicle and get dressed, come on.”

Eddie huffs, but he goes.

Steve’s finger tips leave trails of glittering veils through the air. There’s a sound, far off and diffuse, water, like the steady swish of waves. The air is sparkly, the light soft, and every breath fills his lungs so fully and wonderfully he can’t help but feel it.

“Stevie.”

It comes from far away, and Steve’s more aware of it than he’d like to be, really. He kind of wants to stay here.

“Stevie, come on, I gotta go.”

Steve grumbles, the dream falling away as he nuzzles into the pillow. He cracks one eye open, the shape of Eddie hovering over him in the dark room.

“You’re so cute when you just wake up. Your face is all folded up, like an empty chip packet.”

Steve grunts, “s’early.”

“I know, we have to deliver the bouquet and stuff, and then decorate the church. I wanted to say goodbye before I went. Chris will be here in a minute.”

Steve grumbles, “okay. Love you.”

“I love you, too” and then Eddie is covering Steve’s face with smacking kisses while he tries to escape back beneath the covers.

Eddie bounds off the bed and shouts, “winning!” as he clomps down the stairs.

Steve goes back to sleep.

Steve has his elbows resting on the counter, watching listlessly.

“Stop leaving the sink full of water,” Robin bitches from the bathroom doorway.

“It wasn’t me,” Steve mumbles his protest, not having the energy to fight it.

“Uh hu, it’s one of the many other employees we have here today,” she finishes drying her hands with the paper towel, throwing it in the trash before she lets the door swing shut behind her.

Steve sighs, watching the empty car lot through the glass doors. Robin rolls past on the office chair, then pushes off against the opposite wall and rolls back again, “what’s up with you?”

Steve sighs again, “you ever wonder where...like. Where you’re going? Do you ever think that it might just be this, but forever.”

“I retract my question, go have your midlife crisis some place else.”

Steve bumps his head against the counter, “if this is my midlife I’m dead before I hit forty five, thanks Robs.”

“Is it the crushing and inevitable knowledge that you’re in a dead end job but all the kids are definitely going to go to college when they graduate?”

“Ooof. Nope. Too much, back it up a bit.”

“Okay, how about you still live with your parents?”

“Still quite close to the bone there Robs, thanks, and I don’t live with my parents-”

“Objection. Technicality.”

“...because they aren’t there,” Steve finishes weakly.

“Uh hu.”

“And you, also, live with your parents, I cant help but note.”

She shrugs, “yeah, but not for long. Wait,” she shuffles closer, pulling the chair along, looking up at Steve, being serious for once, “is this because I’m going to college? Because it’s not for a few months yet, and it’s not too far away! We can still see each other on weekends, you can visit-”

Steve sighs, turning away, “No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know I just...everyone has direction. Even Eddie with his GED. He’s doing something, you know? Him and Chrissy are growing her business, she has this whole five year plan thing.”

“Yeah, she’s told me about it...in detail...there’s a color coded diagram. But how is that going? The studying thing?”

“Well, he’s only really been working through the books for a couple of weeks, Nancy helped him apply for a couple of evening classes, did I tell you?” Robin shakes her head, “yeah, Math and English, classes start soon, just a couple of nights a week for a semester.”

“That’s so good!”

“Yeah,” Steve feels himself soften, talking about Eddie, “it’s really good. Nancy and all the kids said they’ll help him study.”

“But you don’t have a thing? And you want one?”

“I don’t know I just...feel like I should be aiming higher than Family Video. But I don’t...I really don’t want to go back to school or do college or anything like that, it was never my strong suit, you know?”

Robin gets up to ferret under the desk, pulling out a newspaper, “well then, lets look.”

They have three adds circled when Eddie calls, Steve gets part way through the Family Video spiel when Eddie interrupts him, “Stevie? Can I use the car tonight?”

Steve flicks through his internal calendar a second, “I promised I’d take the kids to the arcade, what do you need it for?”

“I was at the place, you know, centerpieces for the reception,” Steve doesn’t really know, but he knows this wedding has been a lot of work for both Eddie and Chrissy, a job Chrissy wouldn’t have taken on if it was still just her at the shop. But with Eddie’s help, they handled it, and it’s probably going to lead to more of this sort of thing now they know they can do weddings and stuff, “and there was a flyer, a band looking for a guitarist. I called the number and the guy, Gareth, he’s really cool!”

“Right...you want to go meet them?”

“They have practice tonight, I said I only have an acoustic now but they said they could listen and see. Maybe I could get an electric with my savings?” Steve can hear Eddie’s excitement about this practically vibrating down the phone.

“How about I drop you, go get the kids, then come and get you after I drop them home? We’ll probably only be at the arcade a couple of hours anyway.”

“You sure? A lot of, you know, there and back.”

“I know, it’s fine. But you sort the times out with the kids, walkie them when they finish school, okay? I’ll be home around four.”

Eddie hums down the phone, “maybe I should get a car?”

Steve thinks for a second, because, yeah, that would give Eddie more independence, but realistically running another vehicle costs money and they have been managing with sharing the beemer, “we might need to think about cost.”

Eddie hums again, “I think there’s going to be more work with Chrissy. But. Yes, okay. Talk later?”

“Sure babe.”

Steve pulls into a driveway, the garage door open despite the cold, and a drum kit already set up, three guys milling around inside. Eddie is practically getting out of the car before Steve has it in park, hefting his guitar out of the back seat, the excitement coming off him in almost palpable waves.

Well, either that or they do have mind powers, Steve doesn’t know, but it makes him think for a second as he climbs out at a much more sedate pace. Eddie’s already saying hello to Gareth, and now Steve is here, he recognizes these guys from school. Gareth’s already giving him some side eye, which, great.

Because Steve, at some point or other, was probably an absolute prick to these dudes, or at least, a prick to their friends or other band nerds or whatever, “this is Steve,” Eddie is saying.

It’s almost painful when Gareth replies, “yeah, we know who that is,” in a tone that even Eddie can’t possibly miss.

It’s suddenly quiet, and suddenly incredibly fucking awkward, the other two guys still in the garage are watching Steve wearily, “I’ll be back in a few hours for Eddie, that cool?”

“I don’t know man, is it?” And Gareth is now looking at Eddie a little uncertainly, like Eddie is...a bully simply by association.

Steve just shakes his head and backs down, “I’ll see you in a bit,” he tells Eddie, and high tails it out of there. He prays, vaguely, on the way to pick up the kids that those dudes won’t associate Eddie now with Steve’s behavior at school. He second guesses himself all the way to the arcade, Dustin chirruping in his ear, should he have tried to straighten things out? Staying when they clearly still think he’s a massive prick, or worse, actually a danger to them, didn’t feel like the right thing to do.

He remembers smashing Jon’s camera, the whole school would have known about that. The fights he got into. Every time he intimidated someone, surrounded by his sad little army of dickhead jocks. Every shitty thing he’s ever done might just have come back to bite him. Well, worse, if Steve was taking it, it would be fine, he deserves it...but if Eddie’s now being treated badly because he’s friends with Steve well that...that feels shitty.

Steve tries to remember Gareth at School, or Jeff...or the third kid that Steve recognizes but can’t place. Robin would know, he’s pretty sure they were all in band together. He tries to remember if he did anything specifically to any of those guys but he...can’t. He shoved so many kids into open lockers over the years that he’s pretty sure he probably got one of them at some point. Odds are not in his favor, at least.

Steve prays vaguely while watching the kids play games that they’re bigger men than Steve and they will give Eddie the benefit of the doubt. Besides, it’s Eddie, and he can win pretty much anyone over.

Steve hopes.

Steve pulls into the drive, killing the engine. The garage doors are mostly shut, it is still January and fucking freezing. Steve sits and stares absently at the slither of light escaping out from beneath the door. It feels like it’s been dark for hours already, and Steve is caught squinting when the door slides open unexpectedly and the light blinds him a little. Eddie’s sitting on a roughed up couch, sipping something orange out of a glass, his acoustic cradled on his knee. Steve takes a deep breath, and debates getting out of the car.

Eddie makes the choice for him, he gets up, leaving his guitar lent against the arm of the couch, and comes around to the drivers side. Steve opens the door to speak to him, “okay?”

Eddie frowns at him, then looks back at the guys for a second, “Stevie? They told me things about...about you before and I don’t think they’re true-”

“They’re true.” Eddie really frowns then, but what's worse is the clear disappointment.

“I didn’t...I said there was a mistake?” Eddie says gently, hopeful to the last, “when Chrissy said you used to be a prick I didn’t...I didn’t understand then, what she meant. But when they said about...well it made me remember.”

Steve feels a bit sick, “I can’t change it and…it’s no defense but...I was stupid, then...I didn’t understand how much I was hurting people. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say it to me,” Eddie huffs a little, looking away, and disappointing Eddie feels like the worst thing in the world.

“No, yeah, you’re right,” Steve climbs out of the car. And the three guys watch him wearily enough that it really hammers home to Steve just how fucking horrible he’d been some times.

He knows he’s stalling, and he knows he’s fiddling with his hair and he makes himself shove his hands in his pockets instead. All eyes are literally on him, and Steve looks to the side, Eddie looking back at him, eyes big and brown and hopeful. Steve huffs a breath. He can do this.

He’s been tortured by Russians, there’s no way this will be worse. Probably.

“I...was a terrible person. I did shitty things that...absolutely no one has to forgive me for, and I know this is probably way too little way too late. But I am sorry, and I...do get it now. And I regret it. And I’m sorry.”

Eddie’s smiling at him, at least, looking encouraging. And kind of proud.

“So...yeah, I get the damage is done, and I can’t...change it. But Eddie’s a great guy okay? And he’s real excited about being in your band so, yeah, thank you, for having him over. That’s...cool of you.”

“Right,” says Gareth, looking over at the guy Steve is pretty sure is called Jeff, “well that’s...I mean. Thanks. I guess.” Jeff just shrugs.

Steve thinks his body might cave in on itself with how painful this is. He vaguely hopes that he will just disappear into the ground to escape.

“Okay,” Eddie finally says to break the silence.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, “whatever, same time next week Eds?”

“Yes!” Eddie has the biggest grin on his face.

“And remember about that electric, yeah?”

Steve makes himself scarce, waiting in the car as the guys say goodbye to Eddie. He watches as Eddie packs away his guitar, getting a round of fist bumps as they wrap up. They’re all smiling and laughing, relaxed again now that Steve’s out of the way, so Steve figures it’s all good.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #robin buckly #chrissy cunningham #eddie and chrissy #fish guy #platonic stobin

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