#NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN MY EYES WANT TO DIE

[acid-ixx]

i would not survive wayne manor if i had to stare into dick's y/n blue orbs everyday

stop looking at me with those eyes! (again &. again mini drabble)

ft. post-kidnapped reader w/ yandere batfam shitpost

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist ! ; related post !

thank u for sending this oh my god, i need to write about this!!! i absolutely love your art style for the reader, they're so handsome i'm crying and laughing 😭😭😭 and it's true!!! i will also die if i look at the entire family's eyes as a filipino who has never once stared at a foreigner's eyes because it's just so bright huhu.

unfortunately for your case though, your refusal to look straight at them just translates to extra unwanted counseling sessions with the family in one of the large expanses of the living rooms housing the available members for a meeting. it's a whole gathering where you're the center of attention.

and it's not only dick involved, it's also all the other blue-eyed bastards and an additional glowering, pair of green ones which shines the brightest of them all— and if not for cass and duke's dark colored peepers, you might've truly passed away because it's no joke that their eyes glint under the light passing through locked windows, especially when the sun is at its highest peak and hits at just the right angles to glisten.

not only have you no physical escape, but their obsessed stares never leave your form too, devouring and locking you whole in your place and claustrophobic to the chains of their bright-orbed gaze.

"(name), dear, as much as you don't wish for me to address the issue; it's becoming an unhealthy habit that you refuse to maintain eye contact with the family. it doesn't help that your heart palpitates, you perspire more often, and you make excuses to run to a different room when you do. what's wrong?"

you don't even have to look up from staring at your lap (as if you want to, hah!) to know it's your father's voice directed at you. it's a unique tremor that reverberates across the room and commands attention from all corners; yet when he speaks to you, it's coated with an unhealthily sweet reverence that seems completely foreign to someone who has never once spoken to him until now.

"u-uhm..." stuttering, you bite your lip, drowning in your own self-preservation that had you ignoring dick's stealthy steps to your seated body on the couch, only for his fingers to carefully graze on your chin, snapping you out of your attention yet being too late as he lifts your head up, forcing to stare at his wide-blown eyes.

they're unnaturally bright today, shining more than the beaches in those private islands bruce owns, it's even more terrifying that he's staring at you.

"it's unfair too... baby bird, that it's me you avoid the most," he groans, it grates at your ears but it was better to focus on your other senses if you wish to control the ever-living fear of miley cyrus' blue eyes burned right into your retina, now associated with dick's emboldened ones. his palms find its way to either side of your head, cradling it side to side, the contact forced you to continue staring ahead of him. and no matter how much you resort to blanking out, the intensity of his baby blue eyes forfeits you to focus on anything else.

yet it's the gentle graze on your side that encourages you to speak your mind, you really hate how infantilizing this entire scene feels, and comical that they're - dick - is taking your excuses too seriously.

"ah... well—" how do you explain that you're shit at eye-contact because, first, and can't deal with their luminescent stares pinning you down to your spot, brighter than diamonds and emerald crystals, second?

"everyone's just too... you know. i- i really can't explain without it sounding... uhm..."

"too overwhelming? too what? akhi/akhti? it has been years since we last took you in, and you've been perfectly communicating with us until now. what has changed? has that rebel, todd, dare to make another deal with you again which involves refusing to properly communicate with us? with me? because if he did—"

damian's voice slithers with conviction, condemnation and possessive threats that strike fear into your heart with every venom-laced word. if not for his head nuzzling into the shadows of your neck, the dichotomy of dialogue and action, you would've been convinced he's out to kill you instead.

yet the same gremlin muttering insults is your little brother who takes the entire space beside you on the velvety couch, rendering you completely cornered by his expecting glare. except now, unlike the mental torment he subjected to you, his green-eye gaze glimmers with concealed adoration you've learned to discern, he's always been a heckler for your attention; the tan hands wrapped around your waist in a snuggle tightens, not too tight that it deprives you of oxygen, but demands your answers instead.

like father, like son. as the saying goes. always finding solutions with unwanted affection. couldn't even push them away without them interpreting your actions as rebellion which only results in more uncomfortable competitions on who gets to cuddle you for longer.

and wait, no, they didn't take you in, bullshit! they basically kidnapped you. it's only that you've grown accustomed to dealing with them individually and as a group, but because they've been more lenient with technology, providing you access to wifi with supervised search results, you stumbled across one of , which not-so faintly reminds you of them.

your past traumas of them replaced with jaded motivation to survive and tolerate the ever living plague in your life you call your family.

bruce did advise you to associate them with positive things instead as a first step to your adjusting phase, and miley cyrus' anthropoidal, not-quite human stare isn't negative in any way, yet it's also by no means negative, if not unsettling— which leads you to a common ground, a common affiliation which helps you cope with the fear that they might harm you and isolate you with loneliness even further; forgetting your presence once again.

learning to love them was hard, so relating them to anything comical was way easier on the still-heavy burden in your heart which yearns for freedom burned off through countless of escape attempts, the grief of your mother's death now decades worth, and just the shock of it all that they're still interested in you until now that hasn't worn off still, despite the years passing by quicker than blowing off a candle-light.

still, everyone retains their gaze on you, never once breaking contact with your form as if you're capable of escaping their grasp. you try to look down, but to no avail, dick was too invested in hogging your head all to himself and nuzzling it in his toned stomach, whilst damian refuses to separate from his ever tightening hold which renders you unable to full grasp your thoughts and speak.

god-damned hypocrites.

"holy shit..." it's tim who broke off the silence, muttering under his breath in disbelief whilst his hand fiddles with the modded tablet bruce had given you as a christmas gift. his lanky finfers continue scrolling eyes fixated on the scene before him, every expression illuminated by the faint glow of your tablet's screen. the most visible feature, gazing at him through whichever was left of your vision unobstructed by dick's body; was of course, his widening blue eyes, as it seems like he'd hit jackpot with his appalled reactions.

it seems like he found the exact same picture.

would it be a bad thing now if you'd run away from the room once they all collectively hone in on the image before them? or is it too risky of a task?

honestly, with just how routine your life must be right now, you'd prefer to run, to feel the air run through your hair, to bask in the sun washing your body in its warmth.

maybe to find unbidden joy in another game of cat and mouse, or it may be another one of your excuses to avoid those piercing eyes once more if even by just a mere fraction.

or maybe you could stay for now, because is it just you, or did you actually succeed in traumatizing them for once instead of you?

[reignpage]

Working Hard

“Stay still, ma,” Toji demands again. 

He’s holding himself up above you, bare chested, muscles pronounced and flexing, and a slight sheen of sweat coating his toned body. His hair is all mussed up and you can’t resist running your hand through it, clearing his vision of you. 

With one corner of his lips pulled up, he winks at you and asks, “Gonna lie there and be good for me?”

“I’ll behave, Scout’s honour.” You giggle. 

Rolling his eyes, he bends his arms, biceps bulging delectably, and nears your face. He does it with ease, in one simple move, no hesitation, no creak or friction. So effortlessly, agile and powerful — you feel heat in your cheeks. 

This big, strong man is all yours. 

And he knows it. 

“That’s fifty now, doll. Ya know the drill,” he reminds you. 

Breath fanning across your face, his nose brushes against yours and all you can see is him. Just him. And it’s all you ever want to see for the rest of your life — Toji chasing your lips with every push up, carrying his weight so he won’t crush you, couldn’t bear to do it. Would rather die than bruise your body in ways you wouldn’t like. 

You kiss him on the lips, tasting the salt there and going back for seconds. Tongue tracing the crease of his lips, you push in, desperate to deepen the kiss, to have more. 

He tuts, arms suddenly extending to full height. “Ya said you’ll behave; ya promised.”

“But, Toji,” you begin, pouting, “you’re taking forever to get to one hundred. I don’t want to just peck you every time. I literally cannot wait until one hundred for a proper kiss.”

You reach out, arms outstretched to wrap your hands around his clammy neck, making pitiful attempts to pull him back down. He scrapes his teeth against your wrist, a playful warning. 

“That’s too damn bad, ma. We made a deal and y’r gonna have to honour it, yeah?” 

“Whatever.”

He snorts. “Atta girl.”

And then he’s bending back down, grunting on his way. You swivel your head to the side with a huff, cheek grazing his jutted out lips. 

“Now y’r just being mean,” he snickers, soft lips skimming your jaw, a deep inhale rumbling through his chest. “Come on, ma. I need my reward, don’t I? Y’r not gonna make me beg for it, are ya?”

Toji’s flexing up, body pushing itself higher and higher above you, slowly, testing you. You’re weak; you cave. 

Arms wrapping around him again, you bring down with a grunt. He teases you with part of his weight, pinning you to the ground. Your legs curl around him too until there’s no space existing between you. 

You smother his cheeks in wet, sloppy kisses, giggling as he makes groans of complaint, rolling on the mat until you’re cradled on his chest, still attacking wherever you can with pecks. 

“Knew you’d be a distraction; can never work when you’re here,” he sasses. 

With one final smooch right on his nose — he crinkles it, in fake disgust you hope — you rest your chin on his chest, and suggest, “If it’s cardio you want to do, why not do something more fun, Toji baby?”

He makes another noise of complaint, about the term of endearment but he’s lazily grinning at you, huge hands tightening their grip around your back. 

“Alright, ya win.” He rolls his eyes and smacks your ass. “Pants off and get on my face, ma.”

Working out is fun if it’s with Toji.

[webzazes]

making this danny phantom teehee ❤️

My family always seemed like the most normal people in the world. But, we're filthy rich. I'm not a fan of it, but it's whatever. At least I have funds for passion projects, and hopefully, in due time, my own greenhouse (I've wanted one for years).

I actually only learned what really made us so successful recently, though. Ever since I was young, I was told over and over again that it was due to an invention, something useful and prominent in everyday life. However, it turns out that we're so wealthy because of black magic.

The thought alone inspired me so much, and I was already into gothic and fantastical things- it practically tripled my obsession. My parents, however, thought I was "too obvious" or "too gloomy" for our happy little family, especially because of my style of dress, but I was dead-set on breaking away from the norm after I learned how, well, not normal we are under wraps.

This made me a loner at school. I was different, and I wasn't a fan of going out of my way for friendships, let alone any unnecessary social interaction. I kept to myself, and became "the weird goth girl". Honestly, I was happy with that.

But, being a loner led me to Danny. And, of course, his friend Tucker. They accepted me- although we did butt heads at times, as is natural. We'd go to Danny's house, hear about his parents' work, and especially, their obsession with ghosts.

As someone getting into the occult, (I was actively training myself with books from our family library) I was interested. Very interested. I knew about souls, zombies, and demons, but not so much about ghosts themselves, the physical representation of a consciousness and soul tied down to Earth.

So, when Danny brought us to his basement to show us the "ghost portal" his parents were working on, I was excited. Really excited. Of course, I didn't let that show, I figured it might be as dumb as all of the other Fenton tech, and I wasn't expecting it to be dangerous, either.

But, when Danny stepped in to try and turn it on, I realized it was, in fact, dangerous. Very much so. The sheer amount of force I felt when the portal opened was almost painful- but never could be as painful as the sight of what happened to Danny because of it. He looked almost burned in places, and practically wilted to the ground.

He was limp. And he didn't look right, either- his hair was a shocking, clear white, and his eyes were green. At the time, I didn't even notice that the protective suit he was wearing had changed. But I could 100 percent tell that he was dead. Stone cold and limp, dead.

Tucker looked to be on the verge of tears, but I didn't care. I had to do something! I could feel some kind of residual energy on Danny's body, and I thought, "a source". A source of power for me to use, something I could heal him with.

Healing was my passion. I've always cared for life. Especially in this instance- Danny wasn't allowed to die. He couldn't die. I don't know what I would've done if he did..

So, in a split second, I was by his side. I was full healer mode, to the point I knew I couldn't let Tucker see my face. If he saw my eyes, well, he certainly wouldn't have been able to forget them any time soon..

I grasped at the energy left on Danny, and I made it mine. My emotions made me strong, determined, and I used that energy to successfully make an offering to Danny's soul. It was like summoning a demon- I'd seen my mom do it before- but more intimate, as I touched his spirit, poured its power into his bloodstream, and pulled at it, as I tied it to his body. I could almost feel the ectoplasm in my hands- and that's when I realized what the residual energy really was. Ectoplasm.

The ghost portal was real.

All in all, the whole process of "fixing" Danny, well.. it felt like nothing. And it really was quick. Thankfully, once I told Tucker that Danny was breathing, he didn't think to question the wait. He said nothing. And I couldn't bring myself to say that Danny was still cold..

So, hurriedly, we took Danny to his room, and told his parents he was tired. We said that he fell asleep while playing games with us. That was it.

That is how it all started.

You always wanted to be a Healer. Unfortunately, your dad was an Necromancer and your mother a Demon Summoner. So your healing was a bit… unconventional to say the least.

[secretmaniacc]

RIDE OR DIE

Parings: The salesman x Fem!oc

Summary: Two fierce recruiters, locked in a heated rivalry over who can secure the most players, strike an unusual deal: whoever wins the next recruit gets to drag the other out to dinner. But when tempers flare and egos clash, their “game” turns into a battle of wits, slaps, and simmering tension. What starts as a simple challenge spirals into something far more unpredictable—because in their world, nothing ever goes as planned.

Warnings: slow burn, language, violence, dom!salesman x baddie oc, teasing, work rivals, kissing, fingering sex, mentions of blood, slapping, maybe something else that I don’t remember.

Wc: 5.4k

A/n: this is my first post and idk how do you use tumblr and I can’t even add warnings cuz idk what should I warn about but I hope y’all can enjoy wtv the hell I wrote, English isn’t my first language so no attacking. Not proofread. This is so bad ik.

The dimly lit café hummed with quiet chatter, the occasional clatter of cups breaking the tension in the air. She adjusted her sunglasses, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she leaned forward, her fingers tapping softly against the edge of the table. The man seated across from her was sweating through his cheap dress shirt, his eyes darting nervously to the plain white envelope she'd slid toward him just moments ago.

"Inside that envelope," she began, her voice calm but charged with intent, "is the answer to all your problems. Every overdue bill, every phone call you're dodging, every sleepless night. All gone."

He hesitated, staring at the envelope like it might bite him. "I don't know... I mean, this doesn't sound—"

"—legal?" she finished for him, leaning back casually. She tilted her head, the smirk widening. "You'd be right. It's not. But when has that ever stopped you before?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Bingo, she thought, watching him flounder. That reaction told her everything she needed to know.

"Think about it," she pressed, her voice dropping an octave, almost a whisper. "A few games. A few hours. And then you walk away with enough money to start fresh. No more debt. No more hiding."

He reached for the envelope, his hand trembling. But just as his fingertips brushed the edge of it—

A familiar voice cut through the air. "Amateur move, don't you think?"

Her eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Only one person could manage to sound both smug and bored in the same sentence.

"Go away," she said flatly, her tone ice-cold.

But of course, he didn't.

"I mean, honestly," the salesman continued, sliding into the booth beside the man like he owned the place. "Laying it all out like that? Where's the finesse? The mystery? The intrigue?"

She finally turned her head, pushing her sunglasses down just enough to meet his eyes. "Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?"

"Not when I'm right," he replied, flashing her that infuriatingly cocky smile.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, and gave him a sweet, fake smile in return. "Right about what? Annoying the hell out of me? Congratulations, you've mastered the art."

The man between them shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting from her to the salesman and back again. "Uh, I should probably—"

"You're not going anywhere," she said sharply, cutting him off. She reached for the envelope and slid it back toward the man with deliberate slowness, her gaze never leaving the salesman. "You want to talk about finesse? Fine. Let's talk about your pitch. What is it this time? Another mysterious slap game in the subway? Real creative."

He laughed, the sound low and easy, and leaned back in the booth. "What can I say? It works."

"Until it doesn't," she shot back.

"Why don't we let him decide?" he countered, gesturing to the man, who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

She turned her attention back to her target, her expression softening. "You want to trust him? Go ahead. But let me ask you this: When he disappears into thin air after taking his cut, who's going to be there to clean up the mess? Not him."

The salesman's grin faltered, just for a second, but it was enough to make her smirk.

"Fine," he said, standing abruptly and brushing imaginary lint off his suit jacket. "He's all yours. Let's see if your little sob story gets him to bite."

"Gladly," she replied, leaning back with a victorious gleam in her eyes.

But as he turned to leave, he leaned in close, just enough for his breath to brush against her ear. "Next time, sweetheart, try not to play so dirty. It's almost cute how hard you're trying to beat me."

She didn't flinch, didn't react, even as her grip tightened on the edge of the table. He chuckled softly and walked away, leaving her with the trembling man and the lingering scent of his cologne.

"You should take the deal," she said finally, sliding the envelope across the table one last time. "Before someone else comes along and makes it worse for you."

This time, he took it without hesitation.

As she left the café, she spotted the salesman leaning casually against a lamppost outside, twirling a coin between his fingers.

"You owe me," she called out, not breaking stride.

"For what?"

"For not strangling you in there."

His laugh followed her down the street, a sound that stuck in her head longer than she cared to admit.

Next day

She pushed the door to the briefing room open with a little more force than necessary, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. He was already there, of course, leaning back in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the table like he owned the place. The sight made her want to turn around and walk right back out.

The office reeked of stale coffee and carried the faint metallic tang of the envelopes they used to seal people's fates. Spotting their shared desk, she sauntered over and dropped into her chair, leaning back with a casual air. Her red-tipped nails drummed a steady rhythm against the table, a small but deliberate sound to break the silence.

"So," she started, her voice smooth but sharp enough to cut, "how many desperate souls did you con into signing today?"

"You're late," he drawled, not even bothering to glance up from the notepad he was scribbling on, "I've already got a head start."

She ignored him, tossing her clipboard onto the table with a loud thwack. "Four recruits," she announced, while sitting in the chair across from him.

That got his attention. He arched an eyebrow, finally glancing up. "Four? That's cute."

Her lips twitched, but she kept her expression neutral. "Better than your three."

The smug grin he'd been wearing all evening faltered for a split second, and the sight was immensely satisfying. He quickly recovered, sitting up straighter and folding his arms over his chest. "Who says I only got three?"

"I saw you at the station earlier," she shot back. "Your guy ran off before you could even give him the envelope."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," he said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. "He came back. Took the bait. Easy money."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge whether he was bluffing. With him, it was impossible to tell. He could sell a lie as easily as breathing, and she hated how good he was at it.

"Let's see the proof, then," she said, gesturing to his notepad.

He hesitated, just long enough for her to pounce.

"Liar," she said smugly, leaning back in her chair.

"Fine," he admitted, tossing the notepad onto the table. "Three. But mine were quality recruits. You're probably scraping the bottom of the barrel as usual."

She bristled at that, her fingers curling into fists under the table. "Quality? The last guy you brought in was a drunk who passed out halfway through the first game."

"And he still made it further than your little college dropout," he countered.

"That dropout lasted three games," she snapped. "And he made us more money than any of your recruits ever have."

"Us?" He laughed, the sound low and mocking. "Sweetheart, there is no 'us.' This is a solo game, remember? And right now, you're losing."

The word sweetheart grated against her nerves, but she forced herself to stay calm. She wasn't about to let him see how much he was getting under her skin.

"Keep telling yourself that," she said coolly, pulling out a pen and jotting down the day's numbers on her clipboard. "Meanwhile, I'll be over here actually doing my job."

He watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he reached across the table and snatched the clipboard out of her hands.

"Hey!" she protested, but he held it just out of her reach, flipping through the pages with a smug grin.

"Let's see... Ah, there it is," he said, tapping the page with the end of her pen. "Four names. Not bad. But you forgot to include the part where they all looked ready to bolt the second you left."

She lunged for the clipboard, but he pulled it back again, chuckling under his breath. "Careful now," he teased. "Wouldn't want to make a scene, would we?"

She glared at him, her jaw tightening. "Give it back."

"Say please."

"Go to hell."

He laughed again, but this time, he relented, sliding the clipboard across the table. She snatched it up, smoothing the crumpled pages with deliberate care.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" she muttered, not bothering to look at him.

"And yet, you keep coming back," he replied, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.

She bit back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her lose her composure. Instead, she focused on her clipboard, pretending he didn't exist.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, he broke it.

"You know, you're lucky you have me as competition."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why's that?"

"Because I keep you on your toes," he said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Admit it. If it weren't for me, this job would be boring as hell."

"Boring?" she repeated, her tone icy. "You think ruining people's lives is boring?"

"Don't get all self-righteous on me," he said, his voice low and teasing. "We both know you enjoy the thrill just as much as I do."

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. He wasn't wrong, and they both knew it.

"Speaking of thrill," he continued, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "how about a little wager?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What kind of wager?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Next recruit wins."

"Wins what?" she asked warily.

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Bragging rights. And dinner."

She snorted. "You think I'd let you take me to dinner?"

"Who said I'd be taking you?" he shot back, his grin widening. "You'd be taking me."

The audacity of it made her laugh, a sharp, bitter sound that echoed through the sterile room.

"Fine," she said, standing up and smoothing her pencil skirt. "But don't cry when you lose."

"Don't worry about me, sweetheart," he said, rising to his feet and adjusting his tie. "Worry about yourself."

With that, she grabbed her clipboard and swept out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor.

Later That Night

The neon lights of the city cast a harsh glow on the bustling streets, illuminating the restless hum of nightlife. Cars honked in the distance, their headlights cutting through the mist rising from sewer grates. She stood near the entrance of a seedy-looking diner, a faint flicker of its neon sign sputtering above her. The air smelled of fried food and rain-soaked pavement, but she didn't notice. Her sharp eyes scanned the crowd like a predator hunting for its next meal.

She didn't need long to spot potential. It was always the same—the defeated ones, with slumped shoulders and darting eyes. They carried their desperation in their posture, wearing it like a beacon.

Her instincts honed in on a middle-aged man in a rumpled suit leaning against a lamppost. He clutched a briefcase to his chest like it was his last lifeline, his lips moving silently, perhaps rehearsing excuses or trying to summon courage to return home empty-handed.

Perfect.

Before she could move, a faint ripple of awareness prickled at the back of her neck. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Stalking me now?" she asked, her tone sharp but low enough to remain unnoticed.

"Just observing," came his smooth reply, closer than she expected. "Wouldn't want you accusing me of cheating."

Her lips twitched, almost betraying a smile, but she held it back. "You can't cheat at something you're already losing."

"Keep telling yourself that," he said, and she could feel the smirk in his voice without even glancing back.

She pushed his presence to the back of her mind, focusing instead on her target. With a subtle breath, she strode forward, heels clicking against the pavement, the sound cutting through the ambient noise of the street. She approached the man with the kind of confidence that disarmed even the wariest prey.

"Rough night?" she asked, her voice soft and sympathetic, like the purr of a cat just before it strikes.

The man flinched slightly, his tired eyes meeting hers with a flicker of suspicion. "Something like that," he muttered, his voice hoarse and uncertain.

She tilted her head, her expression warm but unreadable. "Well," she said, slipping an envelope from her jacket pocket and holding it out to him, "what if I told you there's a way to turn your luck around?"

The man hesitated, his eyes flicking between her face and the envelope as if weighing the risks. Behind her, she felt his presence again, closer this time. The faintest shuffle of shoes on asphalt told her he was watching, and she resisted the urge to smirk. This one was as good as hers.

Just as the man reached out to take the envelope, a hand shot over her shoulder and plucked it from her grasp.

"Now, now," he said, stepping into view with that maddeningly smug grin, twirling the envelope between his fingers like a magician showing off a trick. "Let's not rush things."

Her jaw tightened, the air around her practically crackling with tension. "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, her voice low and sharp.

"Just helping out," he replied, unfazed by her glare. With a deliberate slowness, he handed the envelope back to her, throwing in a playful wink that made her blood boil.

The man, caught in the crossfire, glanced between them, his confusion turning into hesitation. "Uh... Is this some kind of scam?"

"Not at all," he said quickly, his tone dripping with practiced reassurance. His smile widened, radiating a charm that seemed almost genuine. "We're just offering a little game. High stakes, high rewards. Interested?"

The man hesitated, his grip on the briefcase tightening. "What kind of game?"

"It's simple," he said, crouching and slamming the folded paper onto the pavement with a sharp snap. "You use your own tile and try to flip mine. If you win, you keep the envelope and some extra cash." He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket, fanning them out enticingly.

"And if I lose?"

He smirked, the gesture sharp and taunting. "Then I get to slap you. Fair trade, don't you think?"

The man recoiled, his skepticism deepening. "What kind of twisted game is this?"

"Just a little fun," the salesman said, his tone light but unyielding. "Besides, no one plays if they think they're going to lose. Are you scared you'll lose?"

She suppressed a groan. He always did this—pushing just hard enough to make them take the bait.

"Or, you take the envelope and walk away, no games required." She suggested.

Her rival's chuckle was low, almost teasing. "Where's the fun in that? And where's the money he so desperately needs, Let him decide."

The man glanced at the envelope, then at the money, and finally at the salesman's smirk. "Fine. I'll play."

Her rival's grin widened. "Excellent.", gesturing toward a nearby alleyway. "Let's make this quick."

She followed them into the dimly lit alley, her annoyance simmering just beneath the surface. He always turned everything into a game, always needed to prove he was one step ahead

He handed the man a folded paper tile, stepping back and gesturing for him to begin. The man crouched, his hand trembling slightly as he slapped his tile against the one on the ground. It barely budged.

"Not bad," the salesman said, picking up the tile. "But let me show you how it's done."

He crouched, his movements fluid and confident. With a sharp snap, his tile slammed down, flipping the man's effortlessly.

Without missing a beat, he straightened and grinned. "Looks like I win this round." He raised his hand, his smirk deepening.

The man flinched, bracing himself, but the salesman stopped short, hovering just close enough to make him sweat. Before delivering a slap that echoed through the alleyway like a gunshot. The man staggered back, holding his cheek with a mix of shock and indignation.

"Oh my—" she whispered, flinching

The salesman, unfazed and borderline proud, grinned down at the man. "another round?."

The man blinked, rubbing his face. "don't you think this was abit painful?"

"Wasn't this our deal?"

"Alright, I'll go again," the man exclaimed, determination etched on his face. He grabbed the colored tile with trembling fingers and slammed it down with force.

The tile on the ground barely budged.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

Minutes passed, and the man refused to give up, his voice hoarse as he repeatedly asked for another round. His face, now blotched with red and purpling bruises, told the story of his futile persistence.

Growing impatient with the drawn-out game and the waste of her time, she decided to intervene. Not only had her rival stolen her recruit, but he was also dragging this nonsense far longer than necessary.

"I'll go easy on you this time," she heard him say, his voice laced with mock compassion.

"Or," she interjected sharply, pulling a thick stack of cash from her pocket, "you let me take over and raise the stakes."

Her rival's brows lifted, amusement lighting up his face. "Feeling brave, are we?"

"I just like winning," she retorted, her tone clipped as she handed the cash and envelope to the bruised man. "I don't think you have a reason to continue this."

The man hesitated for only a moment before greed overtook him. He snatched the envelope and money from her outstretched hand, shoving them hastily into his pocket. "Thanks," he muttered, practically sprinting into the crowd and out of sight.

She turned, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto her rival. "Happy now? You scared him off."

He smirked, stepping closer, his movements deliberate and calculated. "Scared him? I think I made his night."

"Your ego is insufferable," she said, arms crossing over her chest.

"Is it?" he countered, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face with a maddeningly light touch. "Or is it just that you don't like losing?"

Her pulse quickened at the proximity, but she refused to show any sign of weakness. "I didn't lose. He took my deal."

His smirk deepened, his expression dripping with arrogance. "If that helps you sleep at night."

Before she could reply, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, velvety murmur. "The game's not over yet. Want to take his place?"

Her breath caught as his fingers grazed hers, sliding the blue tile into her palm before he pulled away. The motion was deliberate, calculated to unnerve her, but she refused to let him win that easily.

She exhaled sharply, tilting her chin upward as she crouched down. Focusing on the game, she slapped her tile against the ground with all the force she could muster.

The crack echoed through the narrow alley, but the result was disappointing—the tile barely shifted.

"Tough break," he quipped, crouching beside her, his voice a teasing whisper. "Maybe you should let me teach you a thing or two."

Her eyes snapped to his, sharp and unwavering. For a moment, the tension between them was palpable, an electric crackle in the chilly air.

"I don't need your lessons," she bit out, rising to her feet and brushing past him, her jaw tight.

"Alright then," he said with infuriating ease. He crouched effortlessly, his movements smooth as silk. With a single, sharp slap, his tile flipped hers with almost mocking precision.

Standing, he turned toward her, a mock pout curving his lips. "I guess I'll have to slap that pretty face of yours now. May I?" he asked, his voice dripping with a false politeness that made her blood boil.

Her jaw tightened, and she nodded stiffly. Before she could brace herself, his hand connected sharply with her cheek. The slap rang out in the alleyway like a firecracker, her head snapping to the side with the force.

Pain bloomed hot and fast, her body recoiling slightly as she stumbled a step back. She could already feel the beginnings of a bruise forming, the sting radiating from her skin.

Her chest rose and fell as she steadied herself. "Again," she demanded, her voice steely.

This time, she took her turn, and with a fierce slap of her tile, she flipped his. A slow, triumphant grin spread across her face.

"Your turn," she said smoothly, stepping closer.

His smug grin never wavered, even as he leaned in for his next move. The sharp crack of his tile meeting her tile.

he missed.

His tile flipped awkwardly, tumbling off-course and skidding out of bounds. A flash of annoyance crossed his face, but before he could recover, her palm came down with brutal precision. The slap echoed louder this time.

He staggered slightly, his face turning away as her hand left a bright, stinging imprint on his cheekbone. The smirk she wore grew darker, more dangerous. "Losing your touch?" she taunted, her voice mocking.

His jaw tensed, but he said nothing, merely resetting the tiles and motioning for the game to continue.

The game continued, the back-and-forth intensified, each slap a resounding echo through the narrow alleyway. The tension between them crackled like static electricity, thickening with every calculated strike. Her cheek throbbed, the sting from his earlier slap blooming into a vivid bruise, while his jawline reddened with the marks of her retaliation.

Then she missed.

Her tile spun wildly off-course, landing far from where it needed to be. The mistake was glaring, and he seized the moment without hesitation. His hand came down with brutal force, striking her cheek hard enough that the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

The impact sent her staggering, and this time, a trickle of blood began to run from her nose. She stood frozen for a moment, her fingers brushing against her upper lip. Crimson streaks stained her pale skin, a sharp contrast that only seemed to embolden her defiance.

She tilted her head back slightly, wiping the blood with the back of her hand, smearing it rather than cleaning it. When she looked back at him, her smirk was intact, as sharp as ever.

"What's the matter?" she teased, her voice biting despite the blood. "that's all what you've got?"

For the first time, his confidence faltered. His hand, raised for the next strike, but then froze mid-air. Her face painted with blood hit harder than any slap, and the hesitation in his expression was palpable.

Before she could press further, he stepped forward abruptly, closing the distance between them in one smooth, deliberate motion. His hand dropped from the air to grip her arm firmly, and he pushed her back against the cold brick wall.

The impact stole the air from her lungs, the rough texture of the wall biting into her back. Yet her smirk didn't waver. If anything, it grew sharper, her chin tilting upward as if daring him to try harder. His arms came up, caging her in, palms pressed against the wall on either side of her head. Her breath hitched at his closeness, but she refused to let him see her flinch.

His eyes flicked to her nose, catching the blood still trickling down. Slowly, with deliberate precision, he raised his hand.

She braced herself for another strike, but instead, his thumb brushed against her face. The unexpected gentleness of the motion sent a shiver down her spine, though she masked it well. His thumb wiped away the blood, his touch lingering a second longer than necessary.

He pulled his hand back, glancing at the crimson streak now staining his thumb. Without breaking eye contact, he reached down and wiped it clean on her shirt, the motion casual but calculated.

"Better?" he asked, his tone mocking, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Her smirk dissolved into a sharp scowl, her voice snapping as she opened her mouth. "You—"

He cut her off without a word, his lips crashing against hers in a fiery, passionate kiss. The world around them faded as his hand ditched the wall completely, roaming over her body, pulling her impossibly closer.

For a moment, she pulled back, eyes wide with shock, breathless and taken aback as if the kiss had surged through her like electricity, igniting every nerve ending. What had just happened? How had everything shifted in the blink of an eye? But before she could fully process the intensity of her feelings, his grip tightened on her hips, anchoring her in place, and the heat radiating from him was undeniable, wrapping around her like a warm blanket.

Her heart raced, a wild flutter in her chest that felt like it could lift her off the ground. There was something magnetic in the way he looked at her, a primal pull she could no longer resist. The air was thick with tension, charged with unspoken promises, and just when she thought she might pull away entirely, the fire in his gaze ignited something deep within her.

With a soft sigh of surrender, she leaned back into him, allowing herself to melt against his body. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing along her cheek, as if memorizing the delicate curve of her features. And then his lips crashed into hers again, hungry and demanding, hungry as though he had been waiting for this moment forever. This time, he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past her lips to dance with hers in a slow, teasing rhythm that sent shivers down her spine.

She gasped at the sheer sensation, heat pooling in her core as every ounce of tension from earlier evaporated in an instant. The taste of him was intoxicating—warm, slightly sweet, and utterly captivating. Her hands found their way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him for more.

He pulled her closer still, his hands roaming over the small of her back, mapping every curve as if he were trying to memorize her with his touch, urging her to lift her legs around his waist. Instinctively, she obliged, feeling the strength of his body as he lifted her effortlessly. she wrapped her legs around his waist, instinctively urging him to lift her higher, to take her deeper into his embrace, their bodies fitting together perfectly—two pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their match.

The world around them vanished, a blurred backdrop to this moment where only they existed. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing kisses down her jaw, throughout until he meets her neck, pausing to nibble at the sensitive skin just below her ear, igniting fire in her veins with each flick of his tongue and gentle bite. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he held her tightly as if he feared she might slip away. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her impossibly closer, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt electric.

When his lips began to trail again over her delicate skin, she hissed, "You can't leave more marks; they'll know."

He paused, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, a teasing light in his eyes. "How would they know it's me?" he murmured against her skin.

"The cameras," she whispered, referring to the implanted devices on both their jackets that monitored their work. But just as the words left her lips, she felt his mouth curl into a smirk against her neck.

"Then we might as well give them a show and leave as many marks as I want." He falls back into her skin, his lips teasing the flesh between his teeth as he moves to mark her as his own. His lips pause at one of the pulse points on her neck, noticing how her heartbeat quickens and flutters. Was this typical?

He wasn't sure, but he finds himself praying it's a good thing. A chuckle escapes him as her hands grow desperate, pulling at the back of his head, stifling a groan. "Easy, girl."

"Remember when you said you'd never kiss me? That I wasn't worth it?" she teases, a playful smile flickering on her lips.

"Fuck, did I really say that? I don't recall," he replies, feigning shock.

"Just saying that because you can't make me come," she laughs softly against him, and he can't help the way a small smile curves his lips. His fingers slip underneath her skirt, pushing past the hem of her panties. He finds her wetness already coating his fingers. "Can't make you come yet you're so wet for me, hm?"

She bites her lip, allowing her hips to sway against his fingers as pleasure envelops her thoughts. Though he's unsure of what exactly to do, he has overheard other men discussing this, and he hopes it delivers as much pleasure as they say when he dips a finger inside her. She's loose around him, wet, eagerly sucking him in. He quickly adds another finger, finding his rhythm almost immediately and growing bold. He dares to let his thumb tease the edges of her clit.

He notices the way her nails dig into his shoulders, biting her tongue so hard that crimson might seep forth at any moment.

The salesman had kissed many women, been on the brink of sex, yet none had reacted the way she did. They were quick to show their responses, every emotion not hidden behind a curtain of embarrassment; yet now, despite the situation, she found herself shy about making noise. He allows another finger to push inside her, the pink velvet of her insides gripping him. He hears her gasp when his fingers threaten to curl, and he allows himself another smile. His thumb finds her clit again, and that's when her grip becomes lethal, biting her lip no longer serving as a guard for her moans.

"Please," she mumbles, whimpering.

"Please what, sweetheart?"

"I... I need you," she moans, surprising herself with her confessions to a man so dangerously psychotic, one who has killed and toyed with lives—this was something she swore she would never do. Yet here she was, becoming intimate with him, and his touch felt so gentle it was as if his past didn't exist. She can see the vein pulsing in his neck as he finally pulls his fingers out, his eyes fixed on hers as he moves his hand to his mouth, savoring her taste.

Her pupils dilate at the sight, skin warming before she realizes she's replacing his fingers with her tongue, pressing her mouth against his again. His hand falls to her waist.

Now every kiss deepens, an intoxicating blend of urgency and desire. She feels each heartbeat echoing between them. Every brush of their lips sends sparks racing through her veins, igniting every part of her being. It's primal and raw, yet intimately tender, as if they were revealing hidden parts of themselves that only the other could see.

Their lips finally part after what feels like an eternity, both gasping for breath. Foreheads resting against each other, they feel the warmth radiating from their skin, their hearts racing in unison. His eyes flutter open to find her looking up at him, a soft, teasing smile spreading across her face.

"You can put me down now," she breathes, her eyes dancing with mischief.

He reluctantly lowers her to the ground, still holding her gaze, trying to steady himself.

But as soon as her feet touch the ground, she kneels right at his crotch. "That's for not giving me a warning," she laughs, her sound teasing and light.

He winces, a mixture of surprise and discomfort crossing his features as he stumbles back. "Fuck."

She turns with a gleaming smile, beginning to walk away, glancing over her shoulder. "And now... I win. Dinner is on you," she calls back, her laughter lingering in the air.

"We are not done yet!" he calls out one last time, holding himself in pain.

part 2

[veronicangel]

UNDER YOUR SPELL

daisuke - mouthwashing

cw: smut, in this au nothing that bad happens,, everyone stays alive and jimmy isnt a b word, daisuke cums in his boxers lmao, l bomb!, very rushed lmao

it had been months since he's had any sort of pleasure. it's all stressful these days with what happened on the pony express. no matter what, swansea, curly, and jimmy are on him about anything. he is just so exhausted and in need of some relief. and seriously, the only sort of relief he gets is from you. you are just so kind to him. whenever he does something and you tell him he did a good job, or when he helps you with something and you tell him how amazing he is.

he can't help but think of you laying in his bed late at night. it was silent on the ship, and he was alone with his thoughts. he couldn't help but envision you. he thought of the way your hair was so beautiful and the way it would look in his hands. he thought of your pretty eyes and how they would look looking up at him with your plush lips full with him. he thought of your body, the way it curves at your hips, the way your waist would fit his arm perfectly, your chest and how perfectly your tits would fit in his mouth. he felt so perverted thinking of you this way, but he was completely under your spell. he snapped back into reality when he heard a knock on his door. he didn't know what to do, his pants unbelievably tight just from the thought of you. he, although very lazily, got up and opened the door. his face dusted a light crimson, it was you. he could help but look you up and down. it seems you were in pajamas because you were wearing a tank top and shorts. he's never seen this much of you he didn't know how to react, but his cock reacted on its own.

"hey"

...

"um im sorry for bothering you i just cant sleep"

he was so stupid! why is he staying silent when you're right in front of him?? he could easily just pull you in and tell you everything he thinks of you. he could kiss you now. he could finally have a chance with you so why can't he muster up any words?

"yeah!"

"i'm sorry?"

he could die right now. out of all the things he could say to you he says "yeah!" like an idiot. he could tell you to come in. he knows he wants to cum in you. he could tell you that you could come to him whenever you want.

"i mean come in! sorry i just im tired you know the sleepiness is getting to my brain"

"i'm sorry if you're tired i can go back to my room"

"NO!"

....

you laughed at that. he heard your beautiful laugh. you were so oblivious to your affect on him, just your laugh made him throb.

"if you really want me to stay then i will."

you brushed past him, his hand rubbed on yours just a second, and he felt as if his heart could explode. he's thought about your hand more times than he could count. he watched as you sat in his bed. he's dreamt of you being in his bed over a million times. he rushed over to sit next to you, keeping a small space in between you.

"you know, i think you're really great"

"huh?"

"yeah, i hear what the crew says to you and i don't think it's true at all. i mean without you i wouldn't be able to reach anything really."

you laughed as you said that, but your face turned more serious. you closed the space between you too, scooting yourself closer to him. you put your hand on top of his.

"you're a really great guy you know? you genuinely are really good for us... for me."

the way you held eye contact with him, the way your hand rested on his, the way there was no space seperating you. the praise you gave him. he didn't know what to do or how to react. his face was definitely flushed a deep shade of red.

"i..."

he couldn't get anymore words out because of your lips on his. what's going on? he felt his lips no longer alone as you attached yours to his. he kissed back, although inexperienced, he didn't want this to end. when you pulled back he looked at you in admiration.

"am i dreaming?"

you laughed again, before kissing him again.

"no sweetheart, this is very real"

he felt like if he died right now, he'd be okay with it. you kissed him and you're calling him all those things. he doesn't know what to do. he desires you so badly. ever since he first saw you you've been haunting his thoughts.

"can you... kiss me again?"

you did just as he asked, your lips becoming one with each other. the slow passion made him insane. your hand made its way to his hair and he couldn't help but whimper. he wanted to pull back and apologize but you wouldn't let him. you grabbed his hand and snaked it around your waist, bringing you two even closer. the kiss started getting a fast pace and your tongue slipped into his mouth. this was way past everything he's ever done, he's so new to this, and he's doing with it with you and- his thoughts get interrupted by feeling himself getting pushed back onto his bed. he's now laying down and you on top of him, your lips never seperating.

"daisuke..."

his name left your mouth perfectly, although it wasn't louder than a whisper. he looked up at you, the way your hair framed you both, your eyes looking down on him, your lips red and puffy from your intense make out session, and the look in your eyes that said you want him. it was euphoric.

"what is it...?"

"i want you so badly... do you want me like i want you?"

everything felt too good for him. he wasn't sure this was even real. all he could do was nod desperately. he felt your hands reach the hem of his shirt, and he looked at you with a pink face and nodded again at you. you pulled his shirt over his head and started kissing his neck, then his chest, then his stomach.

"you're so perfect daisuke, i want you all to myself"

his mouth fell agape and his eyes closed, he couldn't help the small whimpers leaving his mouth as he felt your teeth suck on his neck.

"i... i need you (your name) i need you so badly please let me be good for you let me be your good boy"

he led his hands to his waistband and started pulling the rest of clothes off. his face was completely flushed and he couldn't tell if this was really happening. he was now almost completely bare, and he felt really embarrassed.

"you're perfect daisuke... do you wanna see me too?"

before he could answer you grabbed his hands and led them to the hem of your own top, quickly taking it off. you weren't even wearing a bra, he saw you immediately.

"you wanna make each other feel good, daisuke?"

"i need it more than anything (your name)... will you let me?"

you nodded your head and he brought his hands to your shorts. you moved off of him so he could get them off. both of you now only in your underwear. you were now sat next to him and he looked up at you. it was more than anything he's imagined. he's definitely imagined you naked over a hundred times, but the real deal just makes him go over the edge.

"do you want to do this?"

"please touch me.."

his voice was quiet but you did as he asked. your hand reached down to his crotch and you started palming his clothed cock. the sensation brought immediate moans from him.

"you sound so cute daisuke keep making these sounds for me"

your pace quickened and his moans got louder.

"please (your name) i wanna cum for you, i wanna be your good boy, tell me im your good boy"

"you're my good boy daisuke, be my good boy and cum for me"

with your command, he finished in his boxers. his whimpers continued even after the fact. he was just too cute.

"you did so good for me daisuke"

"i.... i love you"

you were facing each other while laying down now, and the word love fell from his mouth. this shocked you but it felt so right hearing it directed at you.

"i love you more daisuke"

lmao i got carried away this was supposed to be rlly short and it was also supposed to be pure smut but it ended up being fluff and barely smut 🌚 this was also supposed to go a completely different way so if you guys want to see that lmk cuz i will write it for you guys if you want 😼

[cherie-doll]

i hope the day is good for you 🫶🏻 (english is not my first language) can you please write a story with cod men, about what would they do when the reader doesnt make it home from the mission - like they are waiting at home for her but she's dead.

thx for submitting love <33

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They Waited For You

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He didn't believe it at first, there was just no way... he immediately got to verifying all his sources, even went down to talk to the other soldiers who had been a part of your team

You were supposed to come home, he expected you to come back to him, safe and sound like always but instead of falling asleep and exhausted in his arms like you should've been by tonight, your corpse was out there somewhere missing his embrace

He thought of how he could've prevented this from happening, yes he still blamed himself for anything bad that happened to you despite it not being in his hands, maybe if he could've kept you from going, why did you even feel the need to continue doing this?

There was no one else he cared for as much as he did for you, which truly said a lot of your relationship, but since he met you he felt an overwhelming urge to show love like he'd never done before, nothing else on earth deserved this dedication like you did

He deteriorated rather quickly, the mornings became grim and he couldn't bear to see the sun setting without thinking of how much you loved letting the rays caress your arms and let your eyes take in that golden light, you looked so beautiful in those moments

Ghost

Since he met you, there was finally a stage in his life he could think of purely, sure the relationship wasn't perfect, but this was something he could be reminded of and he didn't have to fight to keep it hidden in the back of his mind, he let the memories emerge to the surface and ponder about them

It had been something pleasant but it had been ripped out of his hands far sooner than he would've wanted, his fantasy that had become a corrupted reality, it makes him want to die, badly, but he always found a way to survive the deadliest situations, somehow he always did; as if he was cursed with immortality

But this? He felt no desperation urging him to dig out of the hole he was sinking into, the walls closing in on him from all sides and he made no effort to push it away, it felt sort of relieving being cramped and paralyzed since he couldn't see the path ahead of him, with you it had become so obvious and clear what he wanted but now there was nothing worth moving towards

Did life always want something from him? Just when he thought he lost everything he could lose, there was always something else being pried out of him, it was painful because it was forcefully taken away just when he was getting attached, when there was no foreseeable evil trying to destroy him there was some good, and you had been the best unexpected thing in his life

Soap

You were like an illusion he had always dreamed of and finally were achieved, a life so dreamy and ideal he thought would never be in his reach, but he had been permitted to have it for a short while with you

Within your time together a love so beautiful had bloomed, it was sweet how sublime it had felt, you had been youthful, still beaming with so much life within you but tragically cut short, those years had gone and went unused

He couldn't find the sense within him to comprehend why it had to be you, your death had been like a cold slap to the face, he had once again become aware of the disheartening reality he lived in, that nothing was secure nor did everything stay the same forever

Well, he knew about the forever part, but did it have to come so soon? He had to gather the strength within him to continue forward and he wasn't even sure of that, there was still so much left unsaid, so much still to be done, and how frustrated he was that it would all be forgotten and left unfulfilled

A sadness like no other would coat his existence, swallow him up and change him beyond recognition, his mind would be invaded by memories of you that will replay until they burned and ceased to exist... the day he ceased to exist

Gaz

All those days that he had spent with you had been the most fulfilling days he had ever experienced, he could remember the warmth of your hand, the weight of your body asleep next to him on the mattress, the security knowing you valued his affection and returned it

He truly felt the happiest with you and he wished to be encased in that happiness forever, but how naive it was of him to think it was possible for even a second, life was always moving and throwing hurdles at us that seem impossible to avoid, it's only a matter of time misfortunes come to us all

By simply contemplating and reminiscing, he felt grief beyond help and any consolation couldn't do much for him, wistful memories came to him and he could not sleep at night, all they did was leave a dark imprint on his mind

His caring nature did not change, he thought with time he could heal and learn to move on, but some things never change, and a sore spot still brings pain when pressed too hard, he would mull over this no matter how painful it was to do so

How he misses to hold you in this moment and kiss you

Roach

The news of your death came like a hard blow to his face, and he was left clutching his chest, eyes watering with tears as he desperately tried to cling onto some comforting memory in his mind

Restlessness follows immediately, even at night sleep does not come to him no matter what he does, the memories you shared seemed to tear him apart rather than anything help him, but he didn't want to forget you either

He knew he couldn't get you back and he had lost you forever in this life, panting and gasping he would awaken from his nightmares, the little sleep he got would do nothing to comfort him, and you weren't there to comfort him, to silently hold nor ease with your voice in his ear

His mind wanted to deceive his heart, make him believe you were somewhere far away but still thinking of him, that he could close his eyes and imaging resting his head on your shoulders, basking in serenity as he lost himself in the waves that lulled him

Alejandro

He was overtaken by bitterness and anger, his better judgement was clouded far beyond reason at the most valuable treasure in his life forever gone, the feeling of longing would become a hole he'd spend his days trying to fill with wrongful acts

All he wanted and needed was your touch to remind him reality was there and not as cruel as he thought, you had still met and loved in your time and nothing could take away what had already been done, he could live blissfully in life knowing you had known each other

But could he be satisfied with that? He could strongly feel the ties that bound you together still tug at his heart, and every year he remembered you, would set an altar for you and fill it with what were your favorite foods and things

He would stare at your imagine, remembering how he once had kissed those lips, stared into your sparkling eyes that watched him endearingly, your face he had held within his hands...

He could never have that back

Rudy

He missed delicately tracing your face, his fingertip raising softly over every curve and line, your silhouette against the wall when you rose that morning, early so you could still say your goodbyes to him and tell him to expect you back very soon, this one wouldn't be too long you said

You had left him a content man, he'd sit around the house and wait, he would take it easy these days because you'd be back soon, but he wasn't ready to withstand the tumult he'd find himself in

His heart had become haggard in the days following your death, he had absorbed every bit of warmth and clung to the last signs that you had left behind, he wished he had been there, to ease your last painful moments before death, how much did that train of thought torment him, day and night it ran through his mind

In sleep, he dreamt of terrible ways you had encountered death, surely, you didn't have a peaceful one, you were healthy and fit to make it, something terrible must have happened but no matter how much he wished to know the cause of your death it wasn't given, most likely for the best to remain unknown

Phillip Graves

He often boasted of having you in his life, it was such a fortunate occurrence when you met that he didn't think it was entirely a coincidence, he loved doting on you and hold you in his arms knowing you were there for him

You had already confirmed the date of your return, but that day came and passed and there was no sign of you, worse yet no message or word had been heard on your part, it was he who had to dig and find out that you had been KIA

It felt like a strong blow to his chest to have you ripped away from him, he knew the harsh reality and danger he was constantly under, he just never imagined it would get to you one day

You shouldn't have paid for his sins or errors, he wished you had stayed out of the battle, but you had your own life to carve out and ultimately it had been your decision

Much time would have to pass before he'd be able to say your name, for the longest time he'd whisper it, as if afraid it'd shatter his reality even more, staying in the air reminding him of what he lost

Makarov

You were forever gone from his grasp, how was he to cope with that? The fire that had warmed his insides, making every act of his be out of love for you suddenly halted, reduced to nothing but ashes and now he was left to sweep the heaps of it

The emptiness growing and knowing there wasn't a piece to fit or make him whole again like you, you were a unique piece, the edges weren't cut with delicacy that an experienced hand could replicate, there wasn't a mold to follow to shape something else into you

You sprung out of chaos and spontaneity with ease, there was a lightheartedness you brought out in him that brought out the best in him, all of it offered to you who didn't greedily take but lovingly returned

He didn't want to believe someone like you could just be taken away from him and have nothing done about it, just when he thought he could be tender he'd return to his old ways, the resentment stronger than ever and tied to his heart, obscuring and consuming him

Keegan

How despairing did this turn out for him, never had he imagined he'd lose you, all that time he had spent training with you, preparing for when the worst could happen and each time you had managed to slip away, always

Except this time you weren't fast enough, he knew those shoulders held up a levelheaded person, who confidently calculated their every move, it was unfair you had been taken

His brows are now furrowed, thinking this just has to be some sort of protocol you're following, faking a death isn't all that uncommon, maybe you were still alive out there, hiding away somewhere for your safety, each day he held the pitiful hope that you'd come back to him, then he'd nurse your injuries and help you stand back up

But moons waxed and waned and you didn't appear, and he couldn't hold the fragments of you close to his heart if you wouldn't be around to reignite them and make them come true again

His palm that had curled, clutching the remnants loosed and he had to give up that foolish dream and accept reality as it was being presented

König

Was it cruel if he wished it was you who had received the news instead of him? He thought it would have been that way, he often joked about the benefits you'd get when he passed, it wasn't supposed to be you to leave earlier than him

Relaxed he was sitting in the armchair until he received the terrible news, his breaths became desperate as he tried to get air into his lungs, he wanted to march down there to the field himself to collect you, to not believe it just yet

Maybe you'd be down there, hiding away in some corner like the sly fox you were and say you had managed to dodge the bullet this time

But he was disappointed with the outcome of things, he hated it when things didn't follow the path he set for them but no one could have controlled the outcome of this course, it had left a profound wound in his heart he wasn't sure he'd be able to heal from

You had parted without saying your goodbyes and now he wouldn't be able to live with that, to live longer still with you in the back of his mind

Horangi

He hated anything that brought the slightest trace of despair, and he dealt horribly with it, he ran on pure serendipity but now he couldn't count on that, was it by being at the wrong place and time you had been one of the lives lost, the most important one to him

He felt the urge to go back to his old ways of numbing out the pain, but he pushed that temptation away, it would only drain his money and everything he had worked for go to waste, he knew you wouldn't have wanted that for him and right now he just wished to keep the traces of you very much alive and present

He wanted to go about his days as if you were still there, the flower you planted, he tried to keep it alive and water it, the way you left your stuff around the house, that way it was easier to transport himself to a time when you were there with him, still at home

The people of the past are hard to forget but he didn't mind, he faced the situation with more determination than he himself expected, he was surprised at the resolve he had come up with

He had loved without regret, and with every passing day he'd be closer to reuniting with you again

Nikto

The only sound occupying the complete silence is the static in his mind, he's just numb, doesn't know what to do, what he should do with whatever emotions he's trying to detect, he must feel something

He was just delivered the worst news of his life, he should be breaking down and crying but he can barely even process the fact that you really are gone, he looses his train of thought every five seconds and can only stare forward as if in a trance he's unable to escape out of

He feels the long seconds drag by but he can't get up from his fixed spot on the chair, it's like a knife has been plunged into his side and pulled out, leaving the gaping wound pulsating softly, but he can barely hear his flesh scream out in pain, he can only feel the blood oozing out, staining his clothes and falling to the floor in droplets as he actively ignores it

He is hurt but can only clutch at it, he can't get up, feels far too comfortable sitting on this kitchen chair staring forward to the wall, elbows resting on his knees

[klunkcat]

50 VAGUE ANGSTY + HURT/COMFORT DIALOGUE PROMPTS

42. "Tell me what I did wrong! What's wrong with me?!" + rise A Team 🥺

You keep requesting things that I know will hurt ur feelings!!!

TW: panic attack, derealization/dissociation

Waking up in the med bay had been less painful than this. He’d broken fourteen bones and fractured three more, been coughing up blood and some thick substance he was very sure was never supposed to be on the outside but he’d thought, ‘hey, we won’. 

This didn’t feel like winning. This felt like standing on the other side of a very long tunnel and seeing the world from a sideways tilt. 

He’d been allowed out of the med bay for a glorious two days– mostly to lay up on the couch instead of the stiff medical room— and missed somewhere that the world had actually ended. Because when Raph leaned over him to grab his glass of water on the table beside him, Leo flinched. 

It wasn’t him, he decided. Because Leo had never once in his life feared anything from his big brother, not even when Raph had gone through his snapping phase. Because Raph was Raph and that meant the biggest warmest hugs you could imagine, and big wet watering eyes and crying over commercials with kittens that sneezed too hard. It couldn’t be him that saw Raph moving forward and thought of pink, slimy tendrils, and felt his airways closing with a sharp thrum of oh god and I’m going to die, because that didn’t make sense. 

Raph froze, eyes wide. Leo fell further outside himself. 

The other him made his hand move, he didn’t feel it move. The other him spoke. 

“Oh, ha. Sorry, static must have shocked me.” From the blankets, yeah. That made sense. This other him that jumped at things at least had his wits, that was reassuring. 

“Leo,” Raph said very slowly. Some hindbrain red alert crawled all the way up from his heart and right out his mouth, and into that other version of him that was staying very still. 

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.” 

Raph put his arm down just as slowly, leaned back like he could telegraph every moment. His eyes stayed wide and locked on to him. “Okay, that’s okay.” 

“It wasn’t you,” the other him said, and Leo couldn’t feel his lips moving but he desperately wanted to be able to shut him up. “It wasn’t um— just. Jumpy. Pulled something funny, you know with the. The bandages.” 

Shit, Leo thought. Stick to the script, pal. 

“Right,” Raph said, without blinking. Like he was thinking something else. 

“Don’t do that,” other him said. “Okay, the big brother voice thing. I don’t need it, let’s just. Watch the movie, right?” 

He was suddenly aware of Donnie by his kneecaps, Mikey staring at him from the mound of pillows he’d made at Don’s legs. He needed this other him to shape up, acting classes were a must. He was flubbing big time, Leo did not flub. 

Raph shifted again, molasses slow, and gave Donnie a look. His twins face twitched with a nod, and he summarily picked up Mikey, blanket and all and shuffled into his lab. Traitor, Leo thought vaguely. Pincer attack, coordinated front. He hated that. That was his and Don’s thing.

Stepping on my turf, he meant to say. Other Leo’s mouth didn’t move, so he was useless. 

“Actually, Raph’s a little worried.” 

Oh, Leo thought, oh no. Fear lanced through him again, in some distant way. He could see his fingers twitching and couldn’t make them stop. “Worried? About what. Can I help, big guy?” 

Raph hummed. “Think you could, yeah. We haven’t talked about everything that happened, have we?” 

Well, Mikey had made him talk a little, about why he thought it would be okay to choose himself without telling anyone else first. Hugged him as tightly as he could with Leo’s broken ribs for three solid hours until Leo’d given in and promised he’d be kinder to himself. Donnie had been furious at him for three straight days somewhere after he’d blearily woken up from his coma, but they hadn’t talked directly about why yet. Suddenly, the look he’d caught clicks.

He was still too outside himself to react the right way. Other Leo looked away and twisted the blanket in his hands. 

Ever so slowly, he felt Raph’s warm hand land on his knee. He could see it, his big brother’s hand, green and normal. No spikes, no pink. He could breathe out— there was a rope somewhere there that guides him closer enough that he can flip his own hand around and squeeze. 

“Nothing to talk about, bro bro,” Leo managed, but it was croaky and lacking all the usual fizz. Fizzless, him. The horror was nearly too much to think about. 

The look Raph gave him was half a wince of apology, half tangled up exasperation. He didn’t like that there was guilt there. That didn’t fit. Raph hadn’t done a single thing wrong. 

“Leo.” 

He made himself swallow. “Raphala.” 

Raph sighed. Flipped Leo’s hand over so he could stare down at the bandages crossing his palm. He’d burnt the inside of his fingers somehow, he couldn’t even say when it happened. Silly, really. He’d laughed when Don had told him. Come to think of it, Dee hadn’t really looked like he’d agreed with the joke then either. 

He watched the way Raph traced his thumb across the white gauze, the way his face twisted and crashed down with mounting horror. 

“I’m so sorry, Leo. You know I love you, right?”

Other Leo made a second appearance, making his hands go numb. “I— of course? I love you too, what does that—?”

Raph’s non bandaged eye blazed when he looked up at him, swimming in the dim movie light. “I hurt you, Leo. I took your trust and I hurt you with it. Raphie’s so sorry.” 

That didn’t— Leo blinked rapidly. The world fell out of focus, clicked free of its puzzle piece board. Out into the ether. “Stop apologizing.” 

“Leo—”

“No!” Other him said it sharp, loud. Too electric behind the words, he winced at himself and didn’t feel his face move. “You don’t— you don’t get to apologize to me. That doesn’t— what are you talking about Raph?” 

Somehow his brother’s face only fell further, it made the panic in Leo’s chest sticky. “I said that wrong, I don’t—” It was so hard to think, why couldn’t he make himself think? “I’m not afraid of you! I’m not.” He wasn’t. Because it was Raph. 

“It’s okay if you are, buddy. Raph understands—” 

“I’m not!” Leo bit out, and blinked rapidly again as the world falls further out to sea. “I put you in danger, I jumped in and— I did something stupid, and you got brainwashed. Because I fucked up. Why aren’t you mad at me? Tell me what I did wrong!”

What’s wrong with me, he thought, vibrant and liquid like toxic sludge seeping down to his core. 

He couldn’t even see right anymore, everything had gone shapes and colors. It wasn’t even Raph in front of him, it was something. It was nothing and— 

“--breathe with me, okay? In. Out, that’s it. That’s perfect, Bug, keep doing that.” 

The Bug snapped him together, pulls all of his strings forward. Raph hadn’t called him that since they were toddlers, when he and Donnie had started insisting being twins and Raph tried to play along. Bug and Boo, he’d said all proud. Donnie had hated it instantly and rebuked any attempt at being called something so sweet by biting. Leo’d tried to make it fit a little better, since Raph seemed to like it so much.

‘S it b’cause I bug you?’ Leo’d said, sad and puddling up but hiding it with a teasing smile he knew would make the hurting less loud. 

Raph had smoothed his hand across his head and grinned. ‘It’s cause you’re my favorite bug.’ But it sounded like a good thing when Raph said it. 

Leo forced in a breath, feels his hands become his hands and his toes firmly plant as his toes. “Sorry,” he managed. “Sorry, went. Um. Somewhere. Back.” 

Raph’s big worried eye peered down at him, he let go of Leo’s hand with a firm squeeze. Leo shook his head, clearing out all the fuzz as much as he could. 

“I need you to hear me, just for a second. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Raph tried, worry making his voice small. “Can you believe me on that one thing? You were brave, and you got us through it, and most importantly you got Leo through it. I’m not mad.”

Leo scoffed, staring down at the blanket instead. Raph carefully scrubs a hand across the top of Leo’s head, warm and calloused the way he knows. 

“Raph wanted you safe. That’s all. And I hurt you, so it’s okay if you— if you need time.” 

Leo snapped his eyes up, grabbing at Raph’s hand again even before he pulled away. “I don’t! I don’t need you to go anywhere, or leave or. Please don’t leave.” 

Raph’s face gentled. 

“Can we just,” Leo couldn’t look at him, he couldn’t. “Can we just stay here for a minute? Maybe talking can be later.” When it wasn’t him and other him preferably, so he could say things the right way.

“Okay.” 

Raph settled back on the couch, slowly lifting his arm free and telegraphing the space underneath for Leo to decide. As if he needed to decide, the best place in the world was in Raph’s hugs. He’d always fit perfect there. 

Raph smoothed his hand across Leo’s head with his thumb, back and forth.The warmth pulled him all the way back into himself, almost with a shudder. Leo squeezed his eyes shut and buried his snout further into Raph’s side. It made him brave. “I’m not scared of you. I’ve never been scared of you, big guy.”

Raph’s thumb paused. Smoothed back again. “It’s okay if you are. That was… pretty scary.” 

Leo shook his head stubbornly. “Wasn’t you. I know my big brother anywhere. That wasn’t him.” 

He pretended kindly not to hear the hitch in Raph’s breathing. The warm chuckle after is like lottery gold. 

“Thanks, bug. I know you, too.” 

[star2fishmeg]

oooooh for your 1K celebration could i request scenario 133 with jack hughes pretty pls and thank you :)

Thank you for requesting <3

SCENARIO #133 Bffs 'practising'

📞 dialling…

“Are you kidding?” Jack asked in surprise, eyes almost burst straight out of his head, pushing off his headboard to lean closer to y/n opposite him on his bed. 

“Jack, stop, it's so embarrassing.” She hushed urgently, hoping Luke couldn’t hear anything from the room next door. Heat flushed to her neck, and she buried her face in her hands. “People didn't like me like that, okay?”

He leant back again, jaw agape and mind trying to process the information. Out of all the years they’d known each other, he couldn’t comprehend how he didn't know she’d never been kissed before or how he never knew about it. What rattled him the most was that he knew guys who would have gone through the trenches for y/n back in high school, yet nothing ever came of it. His ride or die, y/n? Never been kissed?

He pushed his hair off his forehead, the locks getting longer just the way he knew she liked it, “But college? You're saying you did three years of college and nothing? I'm finding it hard to believe that someone as pretty and cool as you had nobody who wanted to kiss you, sweets.”

Her hands fell to her lap, fiddling with the ends of her pyjama bottoms, stomach flipping anxiously at all the two memories of when she almost had a kiss, but could never bring herself to go through with it. It just didn’t feel…right.

“Ah, well, my friends were more approachable, I guess. I don't even know what the fuck to do anyway, like how do you even make-out?” She chuckled, peering up to give him a quizzed look. 

Jack didn’t need to think, didn’t need to hesitate, the first thought that came to mind hit him like a brick and was a risk he was willing to take, the tightness and excitement in his chest needed relief or he would end up facing the anguish of not taking the risk.

“I can teach you.” He said, quickly with his unwavering confidence across his lips, eyes flickering to her lips. “For real, I'll teach you how to kiss. Come on, it'll be fun and it's just me. You know I won't tease you.”

“You don’t have to, J. Honestly, you don’t have to pity me.”

“It’s all good, sweets. I’ve got you, c’mere.” He patted his thigh twice, inviting her in with a confident grin on his face. She wasn’t sure if he was confident or finding amusement in the whole thing.

She exhaled, crawling towards him and straddling his lap, the new position sparking a funny excitement in her stomach, heat surging over her body. His hands held her hips, firm but not bruising, enough to reassure her that, he was sure. Y/n’s breath fell shaky, she’d been face to face with him before but not in that position, where his thumbs rubbed her hipbones gently and her hands wound around his shoulders. 

“Don’t be nervous, princess,” he murmured, “tilt your head to the left and follow my lead.” 

She did, closing the space between them. He pressed his lips to hers tenderly, slotting perfectly. In those brief, six seconds it felt as if the world burst into colours around her, butterflies swarming around her stomach and finally understanding how addicting it was to taste another. Without much thought, she slid her hand to his nape, pulling a groan from Jack’s throat.

Y/n pulled away, lips still parted but eyes searching his for any speck of mutual desire that washed through her, hands still holding each other but she felt his fingers sneak under her t-shirt with feathery touches. 

“Do…do you normally make noises like that when you kiss girls?” she asked quietly, a wild glint in her eyes, one that Jack struggled to contain himself over. He shook his head honestly, hands slithering further under her shirt but doing nothing but running his hands over her waist. “J, I think I wanna make-out with you.”

His lips quirked up in the corners and he licked his lips, “Me too. It’s gonna feel weird, but move your tongue against mine, just follow my lead, ‘kay?”

She nodded, eyes fluttering closed and leaning into him. He pressed his mouth to hers again, swiping his tongue over her bottom lip, feeling her open cautiously before sliding his tongue further. Jack was right, not that she didn’t believe him but his tongue finding hers and lapping against it was alien, yet she followed him. His hand moved up her back, the other arm still wrapped around her waist and keeping her secure to his body, lips moving in a slow rhythm, his chest fizzling at the little moans emitting from her shamelessly as they licked into each other. For someone who’d never made out with anyone before, she learned fast, ignoring the saliva drooling from the corners of mouths. 

Jack hummed when she looped her other arm around his shoulder’s tighter, unknowingly rolling her hips into his crotch, their rhythm becoming hungrier, hotter and heavier until they had to pull back, gasping for air.

Jack rested his forehead against hers, the pair falling into giggles. Twirling a strand of his hair around her finger, she smiled. “How was I?”

“Good, but I think we’re gonna have to go again just so I can be sure.”

He rolled them onto their sides, Jack propped up by his elbow with y/n tucked underneath him, kissing her hard with his hand soothing over her waist and hiking her t-shirt to her ribs. She moaned into him with a slight smile to her lips, one hand tucking his hair away from his face meanwhile her arm held onto his shoulders. Love, lust, hunger and comfort during three separate kisses, yet three attempts at showing how deep down they knew they were meant for each other.

[treatbuckywkisses]

HI I STAYED UP WAY TOO LATE TO READ THIS PART !!!! :))

(also this might be my longest rb so far)

SIX UPON A TIME

"You weren’t sure what you wanted him to do, but it was fun to watch the time bomb tick." - let's kiss him on the mouth 🫶🏻

"A reason to get up in the morning." - SHUT. YOUR. MOUTH.

"But then you blink back into reality again when Bucky sits you down on the closed lid of your toilet and slowly makes you let go of his shirt, kneeling down in front of you. The blue of his eyes is devastating, even though you have to keep blinking to keep him in focus." - No I can't do this 

"Maybe that’s the most terrifying thought of them all. You would die for him. Once, twice, however many times are necessary if that meant that he’s safe. " - Nika I'm fucking crying. I wish I was exaggerating but I'm actually fucking crying before 10pm.

"But it seems like you haven’t known it at all, because right now, you feel the knowledge of it, of him, surge through you with all its facets. You can’t even begin to put it into words, because where would you start? How do you explain what he makes you feel when he hasn’t been there himself, not in any way that matters or sticks? And if it’s never happened at all, if time keeps unraveling like this, how can it even be real? " - the woman that you are. Oh. My. God. You are completely unreal this is phenomenal.

"His breath hitches when they dip lower, almost reaching the place you’ve watched dimple when he laughs, but he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t laugh, either." - I have actual tears in my eyes you are so evil 

"That day, he dies with your stupid nickname on his lips, twisted into something that looks strangely close to that earlier smile. This one doesn’t have time to reach his eyes, though." - Nika I'm fucking sick to my stomach what the fuck is wrong with you 

Brief intermission bc I got too into it and read the rest twice before coming back to make notes (I was too immersed)

A crack in the sky you are insane I would FREAK

Where TF does bucky go during the day. As a naturally nosy gal the unknowns in this story make me ITCH I can't wait for everything to be revealed

"Why won’t you look at me? " - this is so hurtful why are you being so mean to me

HOW IS THE DELIVERY MAN EARLY IM LITERALLY IN SHOCK AND WE MOVED ON FROM THIS TOO FAST????????

"You take a sip of your tea and some feeling returns to your translucent fingers. Strange’s cloak draws itself around your shoulders." - hehe we have the cloak 🫶🏻 

""I came to you," you realize. "Or, I will, once I get out of this." The relief that washes over you makes you want to sob. "So there is a way out?"" - why did this make ME relieved like I'm stuck in the loop too 😭 I literally have felt anxious for our dear reader like I'm sick and this has soothed my heart the smallest bit (I'm still scared of you)

"You can’t help but wonder when he’s last tried the bed." - Frick you for putting him in the floor what has my baby done to you let him be comfortable 😭😭 

"No," Strange answers. "This is just when he wakes up." - this made me LAUGH I needed that 

CAPS BDAY IM CRACKING UP THATS SUCH A FUN SILLY MOMENT

"He might has well have doused you in a bucket of ice water. You’re suddenly very aware of every single cell in your body, and you don’t like the challenge sparkling in his eyes." - THEY ARE SO IN LOVE MY GOD IM SICK 

Why are we waking up to silence I'm gonna throw up Nika 

What did the powers do 

Alpine can see us that is both cute and scary 😅 

"You lose a few hours here and there, time seemingly speeding up at random sometimes now. One morning, Bucky isn’t in the gym like he usually is, and you work yourself up over it so much you nearly have a panic attack. In the end, you almost crash into him outside of his room, and a rush of reassurance floods through you with such force you can’t even look at him." - what is wrong with you 

"That time, Sam is there when Bucky gets shot, and it’s his cry that follows you into the next day. Your hands are clean this time, and somehow that feels worse." - how dare you write these 2 paragraphs and also put them so close together????????

"And then it’s you who’s speechless, because the shock on Peter Parker’s face is more than you bargained for." - FULL. BODY. CHILLS. WHAT A MIND YOU HAVE NIKA. I WILL NEVER GET OVER THIS.

"Sweat pearled on your forehead as you and the universe held your breath again. You could feel your hold slipping with every second that wasn’t allowed to pass. Time was impatient with you." - THE LAST LINE ?????? I'm speechless 

"And with time stumbling and flailing around in confusion, you made it out of the building and into the waiting cab." - ok chapter 7 pls 🫶🏻 

I'm kidding you are PERFECT I can't believe I missed out on this for as long as I did?!!!!!!! Thank you so much for sharing your incredible brain with me I want to kiss you on the mouth I love you!!!!!!!

time after time [6]

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: 12.8k

chapter warnings: maybe reacquaint yourselves with the story premise, it's been a hot minute; characters refusing to be honest with themselves and each other; violence against side characters, minor injury descriptions; strange is still annoying

a/n: this is quite possibly the scariest fic update i've ever made. a lot has happened since the last chapter was posted, and i won't bore you with all of it. suffice it to say, i missed sharing this story. thank you for being patient with me.

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

six: butterfly effect

Working with Sam and Bucky was different than working with Natasha and Steve had been.

At the Compound, it had felt terrifyingly easy to find your place, to slip into the new role they granted you as if you were always meant to fill it. You’d felt that way before, and it hadn’t turned out quite so well. Maybe that was why you used to dread the end.

Now, however, for the first time in a while, you constantly had to prove yourself in order to not be left back in that dark place they’d found you in, alone and trying to make sense of any of it. And you liked that. The challenge was something you could live with, something you could enjoy more than the ever chilling anxiousness that things were simply too good to be true.

So when Sam called you on for a follow-up mission shortly after the first one, you jumped at the chance.

It didn’t matter that you barely talked about anything but work, even when you were hanging out in your spare time; in fact, you much preferred that to digging up the past. You even learned to find a wicked sort of enjoyment in provoking Bucky’s initial dislike of you to the point of where he would barely speak to you at all unless it was to snap at you.

You weren’t sure what you wanted him to do, but it was fun to watch the time bomb tick.

It wasn’t as easy to get under the new cap’s skin.

"You’re making us sound like we’re partners in a law firm," Sam said, a smile clearly audible in his voice even though his eyes didn’t betray it. Bucky didn’t even dignify you with a clench of his jaw.

"What?" you said, crossing your legs. "Every newspaper in the city calls you 'Wilson and Barnes'. Don’t you ever read the articles about yourselves?"

"Unlike some people, I don’t have all the time in the world," Sam said, leaning back on the couch with his eyes closed.

"Pity. The Bulletin called you the 'nation’s new dynamic duo' last week." You looked at Bucky, your eyebrows raised in amusement. "You’ve officially been downgraded to a sidekick, Barnes."

He answered with an empty glare of his own. "And what does that make you?" he said, but not like a question.

"Nothing at all," you still grinned. "Everything is right in the universe."

The reporters had yet to pick up on your addition to the team, which was proof enough that your powers still sufficed to fly under the radar. Combined with the fact that you were actually regularly talking to people again—and people who weren’t your therapist or your customers no less—, things almost felt like they were settling into a new kind of normal. Still somewhat weird, and still a struggle each day, but somewhat hopeful, nevertheless.

You’d almost forgotten what that could feel like.

“Right. You’d prefer people not knowing about your creepy powers.”

"Aww." You tilted your head to the side happily. "You think I’m creepy."

Bucky scoffed into his mug, refusing to look at you like he always did, and then he strolled off again.

In truth, you couldn’t blame him all that much. You’d lived with your powers all your life and still found them unsettling sometimes, particularly when they got away from you and left you trapped in a universe that refused to move.

That was none of his business, though.

Besides, Bucky had taken to moving around so quietly you could never tell he was there until he’d cough and you’d flinch, usually dropping whatever you were holding in your hands. You’d already cracked your phone screen twice.

Not that he’d know, or care if he did. It gave you great satisfaction to erase his amused smirk from existence.

"Give it time," Sam said without moving. "He doesn’t like new people."

"Neither do I," you murmured, and he snorted. "What?"

"Pretend with me all you want, but maybe do a bit of introspection there."

You crossed your arms with a pout. "You sound like my therapist."

"Mhm," Sam hummed, opening one eye to look at you. "You owe me fifty bucks for that."

"Fuck you."

"Oh, would you look at that, the price just went up."

He chuckled as you flipped him off and went to look for the coffee pot.

Of course, your way got blocked. The downsides of not hating having people around.

Bucky was leaning against the counter, considering you. "You go to therapy?"

"You should try it some time," you said distractedly, reaching around him to get your favorite mug. Bucky recoiled like he was afraid you’d burn him. You shook your head in annoyance. "Helps with the stink eye."

"Is that what they told you?"

"They told me I needed to process my grief, but I decided to focus on some more achievable goals." You took a sip of your coffee, sighing in comfort. "We came up with a compromise."

Bucky scoffed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He still hadn’t taken his gloves off around you.

"Sounds like a way to drag it out," he said.

You frowned into your cup. "It’s not a race, Barnes. There’s no finish line for this shit."

Something odd went over his face, but he went back to avoiding your gaze when you tried to make it out. You knew him well enough by then to get the hint, and so you left him alone.

What was it to you if he didn’t want to warm up to you. That had no bearing on the fact that overall, your situation wasn’t all too bad anymore.

It was something, you supposed as you curled up in your spot on the couch with your book later that day, slipping in and out of time to keep your company a little longer because deep down, you knew you were sick of being alone.

It was weird and different, yes, but it was still something anyway. Something to do with your afternoons again.

A reason to get up in the morning.

*****

"What are you talking about?" Bucky asks quietly, carefully, but he makes no attempt to pull back from your embrace. It allows you to take another shuddering breath, inhaling his scent until it makes you dizzy.

The fact that you probably won’t be this close to him again any time soon makes you press into his chest even harder, hard enough to feel his heart flutter against your forehead, the shock of the situation making it pick up speed.

For a split second, you slip into a sort of vacuum, your thoughts quieting as he keeps mumbling to you, and in that blissful moment, your situation doesn’t seem quite so dire anymore, more like a bad dream. You’re safe now, aren’t you? How could you not be?

But then you blink back into reality again when Bucky sits you down on the closed lid of your toilet and slowly makes you let go of his shirt, kneeling down in front of you. The blue of his eyes is devastating, even though you have to keep blinking to keep him in focus.

You don’t want to have to do this, you realize once your gasps for air start calming again. You’re not sure if you can bear it.

But nothing in this loop has been about what you wanted.

And so your resolve is made, with your heart sinking until it’s hidden away deep, deep inside of your chest. You ball your hands into fists to keep your fingers from twitching.

Two or three times he watches you inhale, start to say something, halt before you can, almost choking on it. Like your body is refusing to go through with it.

"How do you know when I’m lying?" you finally ask, and your voice sounds oddly clear in your small bathroom.

Bucky’s face goes from concern to confusion, his frown deepening. You want to smoothe it away with your thumb.

You close your eyes so maybe the temptation goes away.

"What?" he asks, and he still sounds so damn gentle.

"I’ve never been able to lie to you," you say. "What’s my tell?"

You can feel him move away from you and the ache of it makes you look again. His shirt and his hands are covered in his own blood, and you’re sure there’s some fucking metaphor in the way it stains the golden inlets of his vibranium arm crimson but for the most part, you can’t unsee the damn irony of it all.

Because you’ve pissed him off now.

"You scared the shit out of me, Y/N. And Sam, too." There’s the sharpness in his voice you know all too well. You haven’t heard it in a while. "What the hell is going on?"

"I’m trapped in a time loop," you say, squeezing your fists more tightly. "I’ve been reliving this day for weeks, my powers aren’t working, I’m the only one who can stop time from completely collapsing, I can’t do that without my powers, and you’re gonna die later today. Am I lying?"

It’s maybe the worst way you’ve ever told him, because watching Bucky’s face change is almost too much. This is exactly why you’re doing it, though; as long as you’re going through this loop with a giant guilty knot in your stomach, you’re not going to make any progress. And you need to put an end to all of it.

So you meet his gaze, almost unwavering, and you don’t blink.

His shock bursts free as an incredulous laugh. "What?"

"I’m stuck," you say again, slower, nodding at his hands, his blood, continuing to push, "and you keep dying."

Bucky looks down, then, before his gaze falls back onto you and he sits back on his heels. The pause lasts for way too long, heavy and smelling of iron, and you’re pretty sure you’re suffocating. He only says one word, and it sounds so defeated. "How?"

You swallow heavily. "You got shot on a mission," you say, but he shakes his head, the fire returning to his eyes.

"No. How did you get stuck?"

"I …" You blink, because you’re not prepared for this question, because you can never predict what he’s going to say, because he keeps doing that to you, because somehow, and not like you’ve expected, you feel like you’ve been here before.

How did it happen? That’s not … Okay.

"It was an accident," you finally say, helplessly, defensively.

There’s a flicker of something in Bucky’s eyes. "What happened?"

"You died. You died that first time and I didn’t—I couldn’t …" You swallow the sob that threatens to shake your voice again. Damnit, you’re supposed to push him away.

He moves his arm, then hesitates, as if he wants to reach out to you but changes his mind at the very last moment.

Right. He doesn’t normally do that.

Except he has.

He has held your hand and pulled you closer and written on your arm and let you lean on him with the full weight of your body, as if to him, you weighed nothing at all. He’s been offering to carry your load so many times, and he doesn’t remember a single one of them.

"Please don’t look at me like that," you say tonelessly, watching Bucky retreat.

"Like what?"

"Like I’m gonna fall apart at any moment. And yes," you add when his mouth opens, "I—I know I just did, I’m aware of the irony, but this is exactly why I can’t keep telling you, I don’t—I can’t stand it." You press your wrists against your temples, ignoring the buzz of the whirling time symbols against your skin, the stinging in your eyes. "You shouldn’t even—I mean, are you even the slightest bit worried about yourself? Because I feel like I’m the only one here, and I should’ve just—"

You stop yourself, shaking your head. Your hands are very clammy all of a sudden, and when you tug at your rings just to do something, one of them slips off your finger and clangs against the tiles as if to punctuate the silence.

When you reach down, you move your wrist in a way that makes you hiss in pain and flinch back. Bucky’s eyes flit between your own and your hand, his frown deepening in a strangely soft way. "Did you break it?" he asks quietly.

"I’m fine," you mumble, and he looks at you disapprovingly. "You’d grabbed my hand just before …"

His jaw twitches as the blame settles in again, and you would do fucking anything to finally make him understand that none of this is his fault. That you should be in pain for what you’re putting him through.

"It should’ve been me," you tell him, because it’s true.

Even earlier in the week, you would’ve taken great delight in seeing Bucky Barnes’ face fall at something you’d said. Hell, you’d have probably enjoyed it on Thursday, because there used to be this easy sort of gratification that came from riling him up, from catching him off guard.

Seeing it now, though?

It makes your fingers twitch.

"Don’t say that. Not even as a joke."

"I’m not joking." You can feel your pulse in your ears. "They aimed a shot at me, and you pushed me out of the way, and you died. So by all accounts, if your instincts weren’t so damn noble all the time, it should’ve been me, and if I weren’t such a fucking coward, I’d have gone back and switched places with you weeks ago."

The thought terrifies you, even though it’s true. No part of you wants to go through the things Bucky is, but if someone gave you the choice between either one of you right now, you wouldn’t even have to think about it.

Maybe that’s the most terrifying thought of them all. You would die for him. Once, twice, however many times are necessary if that meant that he’s safe.

"I’d like to see you try," Bucky says, and something slams into your chest as an old familiar shiver runs down your spine.

There’s a pained edge to his gaze, contemplative and heartbreaking and …

"You’re doing it again," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What am I doing?" His hand brushes your knee, and your skin is left searing.

You swallow heavily. "Being noble."

Bucky chuckles softly, and his eyes leave yours for just a moment. "Don’t exactly feel like that."

He’s beautiful.

It’s a new thought, despite everything. Even when you’ve noticed it before, you’d roll your eyes at the fact and move on, because this was Bucky. So what if his face was delectably handsome?

But it seems like you haven’t known it at all, because right now, you feel the knowledge of it, of him, surge through you with all its facets. You can’t even begin to put it into words, because where would you start? How do you explain what he makes you feel when he hasn’t been there himself, not in any way that matters or sticks? And if it’s never happened at all, if time keeps unraveling like this, how can it even be real?

So it’s pure instinct that makes you move, like someone would pinch themselves to ensure they’re not asleep, even though you’re very aware that this isn’t just a dream. You need to confirm that Bucky is real, though.

The air stands still when your fingertips trace along his cheekbone, leaving a delicate flush behind in their trail, barely touching and yet …

And yet.

His breath hitches when they dip lower, almost reaching the place you’ve watched dimple when he laughs, but he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t laugh, either.

There’s a scraping sound at the closed bathroom door, followed by a short knock. You flinch backwards.

"I’m leaving the first aid kit on the bed," Sam calls from the other side. "Just … holler if you need me."

"Thanks, Sam," Bucky says coarsely, and you can hear steps receding. The scratching continues, though. That damn cat.

Finally, he breaks eye contact, clearing his throat.

"Do you want me to help you clean up?"

You shake your head. You’re not sure you could stomach more of this. "I’m good, don’t … Don’t worry about it."

Bucky drags a hand through his hair, muttering something to himself you can’t quite make out. Slowly, he gets to his feet again.

"We need to come up with a plan," he says, and you want to cry except … you’re tired. Tired and sick of this.

"I need to come up with a plan," you correct him. "We have been trying to do this as a team for weeks, and it doesn’t change anything except waste time and …" And hurt. "I can’t do it anymore, Buck."

There must be something in your voice that thaws his defiant glare a little. "So what’s the plan?"

And with a sigh, you fill him in on everything that’s been going on with Strange and your powers. Again. One last time.

You have to do this alone.

Bucky ignores your insistence that you can manage just fine and sets your wrist while you talk. Alpine, now free to roam wherever she pleases again, has decided the bathroom isn’t quite that interesting after a short look inside, and is now taking a nap in the spot of sunshine next to your bed.

"New deal," he says once you’re done, once he’s thought about it all, and you raise your eyebrows. "Don’t do anything stupid."

"You know me," you smile, checking the makeshift dressing around your hand. The green symbols are hidden by the layers of gauze.

Bucky doesn’t bite. "I’m serious, just—don’t."

"How would you know?"

"I wouldn’t," he says, snapping the first aid kit shut so vehemently Alpine’s tail twitches. "But I trust you."

Your head whips up at his words, even though his back is still turned to you. He doesn’t see your face as your heart is jostled into a new rhythm, so violently and unexpectedly that you lift your hand without thinking, pinkie outstretched.

"Promise."

He smiles when he notices, and you wish you could take a picture to carry with you through the rest of this nightmare.

That day, he dies with your stupid nickname on his lips, twisted into something that looks strangely close to that earlier smile. This one doesn’t have time to reach his eyes, though.

***

There’s been a change in the weather.

Not literally, no; of course not literally. Fuck, you long for a single cloud, a raindrop, a damn hailstorm to break the streak of endless perfectly sunny days that don’t fit your mood in the slightest.

But there’s a tinge to the sky that makes your stomach turn. It’s not very obvious to anyone who hasn’t looked at the exact same sunset for weeks on end, just a single strip of color across a storybook horizon. It looks like a crack.

"Do you see that?" you ask warily when you notice it for the first time, ominous and yet almost completely hidden by the trees and the buildings. Just dancing around the edge of your vision like another mockery.

"What?" Sam asks, eyes not leaving the path ahead.

"That … thing in the sky. What is that?"

Bucky stops and squints at where you’re pointing. "It’s called a cloud," he says dryly.

"With that color?" you murmur, but continue walking when he stops to turn to you, your wrist tingling. His stare is searing your neck, but you ignore that, too.

The best course of action, you’ve learned, is to shut your brain off as soon as you get out of the quinjet and just go through the motions, trying to ride out the mission like you’ve done dozens of times before. There’s a sort of autopilot you’ve fallen into after a couple of days, and it’s the only thing keeping you somewhat sane. Most days, it means it’s all over quickly, and you can’t help but feel glad about that.

You’ve given up trying to change your own actions to get him through the day.

But this …

It’s something new, and in all this monotony, that thought is both frightening and exciting. It distracts you enough to get you off script.

"Lovely interior design," Sam mumbles like he always does.

"Remember how this was supposed to be a day off?" You kick one of the pebbles in your path with a sigh. "What happened to 'don’t worry, Y/N, after training the day is all yours'?"

"Occupational hazard," Sam says, checking his map for the thousandth time.

"You know what I mean."

"Don’t you have tomorrow off?" Bucky says over the intercom.

Tomorrow. "Right." It comes out somewhat strained, your fingernails digging into the palm of your hand. "And why do you know that?"

Sam shakes his head and there’s a brief crackle of static in your ear. For a fraction of a second, you nearly dare to hope Bucky will give you an answer, even though you have no clue what it would be.

"They’re heading your way now," he says instead, "so get a move on."

And just like that, you’re back on track.

Quickly clearing your throat of the lump that has formed there, you say tonelessly, "I probably only have one reset left. Two, if we’re lucky and you two aren’t being stupid again."

It’s taken you a while to get used to it. To the constant lying.

You’ve worn fingerless gloves on missions before, so that’s not raised any questions from the others yet, and your rings stay hidden away. You’ve been more reluctant to take them off since the one you lost on your bathroom floor vanished into thin air.

The other thing you’ve picked up on while endlessly repeating this day is that Bucky is less likely to catch you in a lie if he can’t see your face.

So you’ve made an effort of spending as little time as possible with him.

It’s surprisingly easy to stay in your room for the majority of the day, because he doesn’t remember it ever being any other way. Even today’s little exchange will be lost to the loop soon enough, just like that little pause he made, just like the bullet through his heart.

Still, when you wake up with a start on Friday, July 4th, you look at the sky first. Its perfect blue doesn’t soothe the sinking feeling in your stomach at all.

You’ve been waiting for something to change for weeks, and now that it’s here, you don’t like it at all.

"What did you expect?" Strange says with an infuriating composure once you’ve nervously recounted your experience. "I told you, time isn’t supposed to get stuck in this way. Of course your reality was going to act up sooner or later."

"I really feel like you should be more concerned about this," you mutter, letting a ball of green energy pass from your left hand to the right. It’s about the size of a quarter now.

"Honestly," Strange answers, "I thought something like this would have happened a while ago." He taps his fingers together. "Again. Slower."

"So what am I supposed to do then, just ignore it?" The green ball pulses with your indignation, turns around itself once and then sinks into your palm again.

"In all likelihood, it’s a one time glitch. If everything is back to normal today, I wouldn’t worry about it."

Your thumb rubs across the empty space on your finger. "Easy for you to say if you’re not the one who’s stuck in an endless hellscape."

"Aren’t I?"

You both roll your eyes at each other, but then you bite the inside of your cheek again, unable to shake the feeling of a whole new shade of dread. "What if it’s not just a one time glitch?"

The corners of Strange’s cloak roll up on themselves, and he doesn’t meet your eye when he says, "We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it."

It’s still early when you return to the present, too early for Bucky to be back from wherever he’s always going, so you decide to venture out of your room again, stretching your tired limbs. You’re pretty sure at this point that waking up on the floor is never going to feel fun.

Sam is in the kitchen as always, reading something on his laptop. He’s still sitting down, which means that it’s even earlier than you expected. You miss these early parts of the day, the calm before the storm.

If today were only made up of these few hours, you suppose, it might not be half so bad.

You pull up a chair next to him and lean a cheek against your hand. "What’re you doing?"

"Research." Sam sighs, rubbing his temples. "Remember that ULTIMATUM group?"

"Never heard of them," you say with a small yawn. "Is that an acronym? What does it stand for?"

Sam gives you a glare and your mouth twitches slightly.

"Anyway," he continues, turning his laptop so you can see the article he’s reading. "They’ve been more active again lately. Acquired a couple thousand dollars’ worth of lab equipment through one of their contacts and then went underground again."

Of course, you know all this. You’ve been over it again and again, back when you were all still trading information like it could save Bucky’s life. Like there was a deeper meaning behind any of this damn loop other than the fact that you, and you alone, fucked up.

Useless.

You close the mental door on those thoughts and take a deep breath. You hate to admit it, but all of this sitting around with your thoughts bullshit you’ve been doing has actually helped you to clear your head somewhat—if only to make it through the parts of the day you can’t avoid.

"And now what?" you ask, pretending to just have reacquainted yourself with the topic.

"Now," Sam says, taking his laptop with him as he stands up and strolls over to the kitchen island, "I’m waiting for Torres to get back to me so we can decide our next steps once we’re all recovered." He gives you a meaningful look and you scowl.

Then, slowly, his words register in your brain, and you stare at his back as he stretches and then moves to make some coffee, wordlessly taking one of your mugs out of the cupboard as well as his own.

"You don’t seem too worried," you say hesitantly.

Sam shrugs. "Until we have a proper lead, there’s not much we can do. And I doubt they’ll be doing any actual damage any time soon. They’re a lot more covert than the Flag Smashers ever were."

"Right," you say, more to yourself than in response.

"Try that again, less convincing?"

"I don’t know," you mutter, slowly following him to lean against the fridge. "Just … what if Torres did find something? Should I be getting ready?"

Sam frowns. "Are you not telling me something again?"

You try to shake the thought, pulling your arms around you. "Forget it."

You don’t, though.

It keeps bugging you, because that day like any other day, he knocks on your door at 4:32 on the dot, and you go on that mission anyway. And even though this has been happening for weeks, you’re just starting to suspect that you are, in fact, still not getting the whole picture.

***

Catching a glimpse of Sam’s phone turns out to be more difficult than you first thought.

You’re still trying to get the timing exactly right a couple of days later, and you miscalculate enough to catch Bucky on his way upstairs.

"Hey," he says, his shoulders tense when he looks at you. There’s a restlessness to him that he’s not quick enough to hide; or maybe you’ve just grown more perceptive when it comes to him.

"Hi," you say, crossing your hands behind your back. "Where’ve you been?"

He shrugs. "For a walk."

You already know he won’t elaborate if you try poking, so you don’t. "Was it good?"

"Lotta people." He hesitates when you continue to not meet his eye, and then he says, "Do you want to talk about it?"

You swallow, ignoring the tingling sensation on your wrist. "Not particularly. Do you?"

Bucky’s jaw twitches. "Nah."

Somehow, you feel like that’s also a lie. Once again, you’re left wondering.

The silence between you stretches as you continue to not quite look at each other, until you finally clear your throat, nodding at the front door. "I’m getting coffee, do you want something?"

Honestly, it’s just an excuse as to why you need to leave before he notices something off again somehow, but Bucky tilts his head in amusement.

"Didn’t you just get some this morning?"

"So? I like coffee."

"Really. I never knew."

"Screw you."

You can hear him huff behind you, but thankfully the door falls shut before you can do anything stupid. Like turning around to face him, for example.

You miss his eyes.

Why won’t you look at me?

When the elevator doors open, you almost yelp into your delivery guy’s face. He stumbles a half-step backwards, somehow managing to keep a hold of the boxes precariously balanced on his arm while he’s reading something on his phone.

"Oh my god," he lets out, "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I was just …"

"Early." You blink.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing," you say, frowning only a little. "Wait, let me get that."

You quickly sign for the delivery and open the door with your keycard, holding it open for him. You’re not exactly afraid of burglars these days, and besides; you know this guy by now.

"If you could just go straight ahead and to the right, that’s where the kitchen is."

"Sure thing," he shrugs. "Thanks—"

His mouth snaps shut and he blushes a little as if he wanted to say something else but thought better of it.

You’ve introduced him to Sam enough times you know he’s going to be fine, so you just smile and wave him in.

When you step out on the street, you instinctually look up at the sky. It’s outrageously blue, blatantly perfect for an endless Friday, and even when you squint, you can’t make out any irregularities.

It’s a tiny relief, but a relief nontheless.

Lucy is leaning against the wall just out of sight of the storefront, an unlit cigarette dangling between her lips as she rummages through her pockets. Her colorful makeup has begun to melt off in the sweltering heat, making the red-white-and-blue stars on her cheeks bleed into each other to look somewhat purplish.

"Are you off or on break?" you call over.

She lifts her head, the glare vanishing when she recognizes you. "Counting the seconds," she says. "Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You sidestep a couple of pedestrians hurrying to cross the street and join her. "Not really."

"I hate you." She finally fishes a lighter out of her back pocket, sighing contentedly as she takes her first drag. "I swear, this day just won’t pass."

Fine. Maybe your chuckle is a little shrill. "I’m sorry."

Lucy waves you off with a gesture crude enough to make a young dad with a stroller send the two of you a dirty look. "You without your shadow today?" she asks, inspecting her nails.

You blink. "My shadow."

"You know. Your friend who’s been in here eight thousand times and still gets confused when he orders." A cloud of smoke vanishes into thin air. "Kind of the lingering type, isn’t he?"

"He’s old," you say, because for some reason nothing else comes to mind.

"Not that old."

"No," you agree, "not that old."

For a moment, you’re afraid she’s going to ask you to pass her number along to him, and you’re already scrambling to find an answer somewhere in the depths of your brain, coming up empty. That’s the problem with being able to unhave entire conversations; you don’t usually really have to deal with reactions if you don’t want to.

Without your powers, though, you’re stuck, and it’s making you wish you hadn’t come here at all.

Instead of any of that, she pulls a flyer out of her other pocket. "Sorin and Cass are doing a gig in Brooklyn next week, do you wanna come with? They’re still terrible, but they got a new bassist who seems alright."

You take the flyer, staring at it. "I didn’t know they’re in a band," you admit.

The truth is, you’ve never paid that much close attention to the people you work with. Maybe that’s been a mistake.

Lucy shrugs. "You’re always doing your own thing." It stings, even though you’re pretty sure she doesn’t mean for it to. "It’d be fun if you came, though."

"I’ll think about it," you say, and your smile is a little unsure, but genuine.

So is hers.

"If you don’t want to hang with us all night, you can bring some friends, too." Her emphasis hangs in the air between you like a dare.

You snort. "I feel like this isn’t quite their scene."

"You feel like or you know?"

"Isn’t that the same thing?"

"No." She puts her cigarette out on the wall behind her. "Knowledge is based on experience. On memories. Your feelings don’t sit in your head. And so they don’t make sense and they’re not necessarily true." She winks.

"You’re weirdly smart," you say, shaking your head.

"I know. It’s a curse." Lucy sighs. "Anyway, think about it. I gotta get back to hell."

"You know," you say with a grin, "I could really do with a frappuccino right about now."

"You know what you could do?" she answers in her sweetest customer service voice, pointing you down the street. "Get in a trash can."

Damnit. You might actually grow to like Lucy.

She taps her fingers against her temple and then shuffles back inside, a hot rush of air blowing out of the AC as the door opens. You fold the flyer up to fit into your back pocket, hoping you’ll make it to that concert one day, and then you walk on, aimless again for the moment.

***

Time passes while it’s standing still.

The problem is, at least for the moment, that by all appearances you’ve reverted back to square one. Going through your day as though any of this is even remotely normal, counting the hours and minutes to reenter the astral plane and feel some semblance of control again.

It’s been nice, really, if you’re ignoring the constant underlying feeling of dread.

Which you’re getting better at.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.

Rinse and repeat.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.

Even on days when you’re sure you’re making progress with your powers, every reset makes it just a little harder to keep dragging yourself onwards.

You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.

"You look like shit."

Your head rolls to the side slowly, allowing yourself a glance while Bucky is still distracted with his arm. Concentration makes his brows knit, and something warm spreads in your chest.

"I’m so tired," you say, voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t look at you, but you’re grateful for it for once. Your eyes are stinging a little.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

"Not particularly."

"Do you want to talk about something else?"

You almost smile. "Like what?"

Bucky shrugs with one shoulder. "Like the fact that you just planted Sam into the mat head-first and yet made a face like you killed a puppy?"

Sometimes you wonder how he still manages to slip in without you noticing, no matter how many times he does it.

"Did I?"

"Did you kill a puppy? I’d hope not."

Your body’s been getting stronger, anticipating Sam’s every move. At this point, it’s not so much training as it is an exercise in muscle memory; but how would he know that?

It still isn’t enough. It’s never enough.

You pitiful, selfish, useless bastard.

"You’re doing it again," Bucky says and you blink.

"Doing what?"

"I don’t know, but I don’t like it."

Something inside you twinges uncomfortably and you wrap your arms around your knees, pulling them into your chest. "That might just be me, period."

Bucky huffs. "Take the towel on the right," he says. "I already used the other one."

So you do.

And then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and then you wake up with blah, blah, blah.

"I can’t do this anymore."

Strange watches you, but you don’t get up from where you’re lying, blankly staring at the ceiling, feeling like your chest is about to explode.

You don’t want to feel like something is tearing you apart every single time, even though you know it’s not permanent. There’s always the tiniest glimmer of hope that this will all be over soon.

Or maybe it’s dread.

"Maybe you can’t," Strange answers.

You blink, sitting upright. "What?"

"Maybe you are actually incapable of cleaning up your own mess. You’ve never had any training before, after all. Maybe you’re too weak."

Useless. Not good enough. Waste of time.

"If this is reverse psychology, it’s not working," you say through gritted teeth, pressing your eyes shut so tightly they don’t burn anymore.

Strange ignores you. "Maybe you’re going to be stuck in this loop forever. If that’s the case, there’s no point to keep trying either. Maybe we should just call it a day."

You can feel your breaths coming in shorter.

"Maybe you’re just going to keep failing to save anyone for the rest of your life."

"Stop it!"

An explosion of power goes through your body, bouncing off the walls and bathing the room in a ghostly green light. You cough and curl into yourself as you watch it billow, still echoing the words back at you, "too weak", "stuck in this loop forever". Your bones are heavy with exhaustion.

Strange crouches down next to you and a cup of fragrant tea draws itself up to the side of your face.

"You’re drawing the bulk of your power from pain. From a desire to fix things that you think you alone are responsible for when the truth is that each and every one of us is constantly creating reality."

"Fuck you," you mumble. When you sit up, your head is still swimming.

"You cannot keep this up."

"If I’m such a lost case, then why do you bother?"

"I’m trying to tell you that you’re not." He points at the walls, still covered by that greenish fog. "This is the strongest display of your powers I’ve seen from you yet, and it only happened because you were lashing out. Pain is not a sustainable source of energy. Imagine what you could do if you could be in control."

Do as I tell you.

"There’s no way to control my powers on a larger scale. It’s impossible."

"You keep telling me that, and yet you keep coming back. Why?"

You push yourself up to your elbows, wiping at your face. "Because I have to hope, right?"

"And there it is."

You take a sip of your tea and some feeling returns to your translucent fingers. Strange’s cloak draws itself around your shoulders.

The wizard himself stays quiet for another minute or two, before he asks, "Why do you think I’m talking to you right now? Helping you, even, nevermind your constant whining and your insistence that this won’t work, after you’ve spent your whole life running away from anything resembling actual responsibilities."

"I didn’t—"

"Answer the question."

"Because I created a time loop?" you guess.

"But you already know that this loop is just one point on the timeline. A single day, repeated endlessly, but going exactly like it was always supposed to, once resolved. So, without the time stone and my privileges as the Sorcerer Supreme, and with your protections still in place, how would I have found you?"

He knew exactly where and when to look for you. But he’s right, that shouldn’t even have been possible unless …

"I came to you," you realize. "Or, I will, once I get out of this." The relief that washes over you makes you want to sob. "So there is a way out?"

"Of course there is," he says, surprisingly gently. "Time isn’t supposed to get stuck."

You sit with that for a minute, hiding your face in your hands as Strange stays silent. Finally, you take a deep breath and look at him again with newly sharp focus.

"So why don’t you just tell me how to do it?"

He raises an eyebrow. "You know that’s not how it works."

"Yes. It is. It’s literally what I do all the time."

"What you do is leaving realities you don’t like by turning backwards."

"That’s not true."

"Just because your motivations aren’t entirely selfish doesn’t mean you’re right."

You’re so damn exhausted. The frustration of this whole thing is really starting to scratch at your sanity, and there’s an ache in your chest as you stare at your own sleeping face, biting the inside of your cheek, thinking.

Strange snaps his fingers to get your attention back.

"I’m not a mind reader," he says. "Out with it."

"I want to see him," you say, getting up. The cloak flaps around you in a very satisfying way. "Bucky. It’s early this morning, right? Just before the loop starts again. That means he’s upstairs."

"And what’s seeing him going to do?"

You ignore him and walk towards the door, reaching for the handle. Your hand goes right through it. You try it several more times, to no avail.

"Heaven help me," Strange mutters behind you.

Shutting your eyes, you take a deep breath. The circle of green tingles around your wrist.

Then, you walk through the closed door.

You fully expect to crash into the wood head first, but instead you feel the door moving through your noncorporeal form, and then you’re standing on the other side.

With a startled hum, you turn left, not waiting to see if you’re being followed.

You only hesitate in front of Bucky’s bedroom door. You’ve never actually been inside his room since he’s moved in; well, apart from that time he patched up your feet and you woke up in the astral plane for the first time. It feels odd to consider entering without him actually being aware of it.

Then again, there’s quite a few things at this point that he’s unaware of.

Before you can make up your mind, the door swings open just a little, and you automatically take a step back. Alpine sleepily slinks through the gap and trots off in the direction you came from, probably to sit in the kitchen and mope until FRIDAY activates the food dispenser again. On the stairs, she passes Strange who raises an eyebrow at you.

"Changed your mind?"

You glance into the room.

At first, you can’t find him. The bedding looks untouched, and there’s a brief flurry of panic that makes you step inside before you can keep questioning yourself.

Bucky is lying on the floor next to the bed, his hands balled tightly into an old throw blanket. It’s haphazardly draped across his torso, like he’s been trying to wriggle free during the night. He grimaces in his sleep.

Try the floor.

You can’t help but wonder when he’s last tried the bed.

"Can he hear us?" you ask quietly, not needing to look over your shoulder as you sink to the floor next to Bucky.

"No," Strange says. "Not until you put in a lot more work."

"Would he remember if I did?"

"I don’t know."

You do look back at him, then. "You know, considering your position you don’t know a whole lot of things."

You concentrate on your own hand until you’re starting to feel cool metal underneath your fingertips, ignoring the throbbing of your head. Carefully, you touch the crease between his brows, smoothing it out tenderly.

Bucky sighs a little in his sleep, but doesn’t stir. Doesn’t stop quietly murmuring in his dreams.

"You feel better?" Strange asks.

"Not really." You’ve already reached out to him without it having any repercussions too many times. "But that wasn’t the point."

"What was?"

"Just …"

Comfort. He brings you comfort, even when he doesn’t know it. It’s the same reason you keep waiting for him to arrive in the gym in the mornings, even though you could probably hurry up and miss him.

Even if the loop never ends, it’s still good to see that it’s bringing him back like it’s supposed to.

How incredibly selfish, you think as you continue looking at Bucky and letting a quiet, hesitant wash of calm come over you.

And then, all of a sudden, his eyes open.

You flinch backwards, but even though you’re almost face to face, he seems to stare right through you, his breaths heavy.

"Did I do something?" you say quietly.

"No," Strange answers. "This is just when he wakes up."

You watch as Bucky drags a hand over his face and then gets up with a determined tick in his jaw, grabbing a notebook from the nightstand. He scribbles something down, hastily, like it’s threatening to get away from him if he doesn’t hurry. You don’t have to read it to know it has something to do with what he’s seen in his sleep.

When the words stop flowing, he sits on the edge of the bed for a minute longer, but the tension doesn’t leave his shoulders. Finally, he rolls his left arm a few times before pulling on a shirt and his running shoes.

He always goes for a run in the morning. You’ve made fun of him for it before, but you hadn’t put together that while Strange was trying to get you to clear your own head through sitting still, Bucky might be doing the exact opposite to get the same result.

The door clicks shut.

"Are we done with the spying, then?" Strange says.

"No need to get weird about it," you mumble and take his outstretched hand.

***

Something changes once you know that your situation actually has an end date, even though Strange either cannot or will not tell you how many more loops you’re going to have to go through until then. Even so, there’s a new assurance to your every step again, a determination grown from the knowledge that all this isn’t for nothing. That there is an out.

You can cling to that.

"What would you do if you were stuck in a time loop?" you ask, letting your legs dangle over the ledge of the roof.

"Ew, no," Lucy replies, shaking the few remaining ice cubes in her cup emphatically. "My shift was long enough as is, and I’ve been looking forward to my Sunday off all week."

"Fair point," you concede.

It’s early afternoon then, and you’ve found a quiet spot on the top of the Tower. If Lucy was at all confused why you’d shown up at the store right when she clocked out and asked her to hang out, she’s not showing it. Over the past couple of loops, you’ve learned that she really likes to go with the flow, and you appreciate that.

"If it’s not today, though," she continues, like she’s thinking aloud. "Imagine the books you could read. You could try out all that stuff that you say you want to do, and then you never have the time to actually do them."

It’s a good thought, but a lack of time has never really been an issue for you. "Nothing you do would really stick, though."

She squints against the sun. "You realize that’s a pro, right? No consequences whatsoever. I could cut my bangs again and they’d be gone the next day."

"You used to have bangs?"

"Never, and I’m willing to state that in a court of law."

You smile and lean back on your elbows. "If something good happened, that’d be gone, too, though. You don’t get to keep that, either."

"Yeah," Lucy says thoughtfully. "I’d still remember it though, right? It still happened. I could make it happen again."

"Maybe." Your thumb scratches the empty space on your pinkie. Even though you’ve turned your entire bathroom upside down, your ring is still gone, like it just up and disappeared from this reality. You can’t help but wonder if that rift in the sky from a few todays ago has anything to do with that.

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

Lucy takes another slurping sip from her almost empty cup. "What would you do in a time loop?"

You can’t help but laugh. "I’d try to keep making the good things happen, I guess."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

It is.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" someone shouts behind you. "It’s in the fricking nineties today and you’re baking?"

"Technically, we are baking," you say, nodding at Lucy and leaning back further so you can look at Sam upside down. "And we’re baking for you."

"Hi, cap," Lucy says, pulling her sunglasses off.

"Hey." Sam crosses his arms and fixes you with a very cap-like glare. "Why are you baking for me."

"Y/N said it’s for your birthday."

"My—" He cuts himself off, rubbing his temples. "My birthday’s in September."

"Whoops," you say, your grin just believable enough. "My bad, cap."

"You’re not funny," Sam says, "I hope you know that."

You know.

Of course, today isn’t actually his birthday, not even if time were allowed to pass normally. It is day forty-fucking-nine of the loop, though, which makes it your fiftieth time living through this crap and frankly, you all deserve some damn pie.

It’s not going to make a difference in the long run, of course, and yet you can’t help but feel like keeping count of those little markers of time helps to hold your head above water. Making the good things happen, even if they don’t change a thing and no one but you is going to remember.

So you simply say, "It’s turtle pie," because you know that it’s Sam’s favorite. "Hey, what’s the time?"

"Oh, it better be," he says, holding his phone up for you to read and then marching out of your field of vision.

Sadly, you’re just about a minute early.

"He could’ve stayed," Lucy says when you let out a frustrated huff.

"He has that thing at the Garden," you tell her distractedly, taking a mental note to stall Sam a little longer next time.

"There you are."

You flinch at the sound of Bucky’s voice, barely daring to move your head when he sits next to you, his back to the brink.

He never comes up here. That’s the whole point.

"Hi?" you say carefully, and a grin tugs at his mouth.

"Not you," he says, nodding to the ground in front of him.

You turn around fully to find Alpine taking a nap just a few feet behind you, her snowy tail wrapped around a flower pot.

You let out a relieved breath and ignore the small sting in your chest. Of course he’s not up here because of you. Why would he be?

"Gee, thanks," you murmur, quietly shifting around so your hands are hidden underneath your legs. "You sure know how to charm the ladies."

You glance back at Lucy, but she’s looking at her phone, her eyes once again indecipherable behind the large sunglasses.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Think you could handle my charm, Y/L/N?"

He might has well have doused you in a bucket of ice water. You’re suddenly very aware of every single cell in your body, and you don’t like the challenge sparkling in his eyes.

So you do what you always do and you block it out. Dismiss and distract.

"Does Alpine seem weird to you?"

He tilts his head, his jaw tight. "Weird how?"

"I don’t know," you say, staring at her. "She’s just been acting … odd, lately. Today, I mean."

And following you around in a way you’re pretty sure she’s never done before. Not before the loop, at least.

Bucky sighs. "Did you make her scratch you again? Because I’ve told you before that I’m not getting rid of her for enforcing her boundaries."

"First of all, I never make her scratch me, she does that well enough on her own."

"That’s victim blaming," Lucy says without looking up. Bucky snorts and you almost roll your eyes.

"Second of all, she’s up to something. I know it."

"Oh, yes," Bucky says dryly just as Alpine makes a small noise in her dreams, her nose twitching. "That’s the embodiment of evil right there."

"I don’t trust her," you mutter.

"And yet the cat’s the weird one."

"I hate you," you mumble, standing up. "I’m gonna go check on the pie."

"There’s pie?" Bucky says.

"Not for you!"

You turn at the door to see Lucy leaning in to show Bucky something on her phone; the frown has disappeared from his face, his shoulders relaxed. If he’d pull off his glove right now, it’d almost be like sitting in a park.

That’s good, you tell yourself as the door slams shut behind you with a bit too much gusto. Reminds you that there’s nothing special about you in particular, which is much needed, really.

Can’t wait to punch that one out of your system later.

Again and again and again and a—

"Whoa, whoa, you alright?"

You blink. Riff slumps to the ground in front of you, body limp.

Bucky stares at you in concern, his hand still on your shoulder. His lip has split open and there’s the usual bruise already forming on his cheekbone. You can’t help it. Your gaze is drawn down, your breathing shallow.

You screw your eyes shut to snap yourself out of it, but when you open them again, Bucky hasn’t moved an inch.

"Never better," you whisper, and for a split second, you almost believe it yourself.

Liar, liar, liar.

***

At least, you suppose, reality seems considerably less broken these days. No more cracks in the sky.

You get your wake-up call when you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY …

"… FRIDAY?" you say into the silence of your room, your heart pounding wildly. This cannot be happening. Not now.

Not yet.

He got shot again yesterday.

A pleasant jingling sound rings out. "Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N."

You look at the clock on the wall. Ten to eight, just like every morning. "What day is it?"

"Today is Friday, July 4th."

You can taste bile in your mouth despite your relief. There’s an impatient thrum to the symbols around your wrist, like a noose that’s tightening.

What did you expect?

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

"Didn’t you set FRIDAY to wake me?" you ask Sam as you’re climbing the stairs, nerves on edge.

He looks at you weirdly. "I did. You’re up, aren’t you?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Didn’t sleep well."

That much, at least, is still true. Full nights of sleep are a long distant memory from before constant back-to-back repetitions. The only time your body shuts off is when you manage to sleep for a little bit in between your astral visits and the mission call.

"I hope you don’t think that’s an excuse," Sam says, bumping your shoulder, and you manage a tired grin.

"You wish."

Today, you let him win, even though your ankle makes an odd crack when you land on the mat. You’ll take care of it later.

"You look like shit."

Grief and relief, you’ve learned, both taste like salt and iron, but the latter is so much easier to swallow.

"That makes two of us," you say, sitting up slowly. "How was your run?"

"Good," Bucky says, putting the cloth away and stretching his fingers out. They catch a ray of sunlight. "What’s wrong with you?"

Not this again.

"Later, okay?" you answer, because that’s not a lie. "Let’s just … not, right now?"

"Alright," he says.

And, oh, you want to tell him again. Because he doesn’t press it. Because you miss having someone to share things with. Because you miss telling him the whole truth. Because you’re scared, and tired, and sick of losing him.

But those are egotistic thoughts, and so you keep them all to yourself and take the towel on the right.

There’s one good thing about this today. You make it to the living room just in time to finally catch a glimpse of Sam’s phone right when it pings with Torres’ message.

I can check it out on Monday if you’d like.

That’s it. No urgency, weirdly proper spelling, not even an exclamation mark.

In other words, you’re not sure what you expected but you’re no closer to answers than before.

"What does it matter?" Strange sighs when you tell him all of this with a frown.

"It matters," you reply, "because if we hadn’t gone on the mission, Bucky wouldn’t have died that first time and none of this would’ve happened."

"So what?" he says. "It’s already done."

"But if I could prevent it—"

"It already happened."

"I can make it not happen."

"You and what powers?" Strange says sharply. "Even if you did that, it wouldn’t stop the loop."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you’ve already seen first-hand that it’s bound to you and your powers, not to whatever you do or don’t do during the day. Karma is a fairy tale for those who don’t want to take responsibility for their actions."

"Do you really still think this is me not taking responsibility?" There’s a green flare that goes through you, hot and seething and making goosebumps crawl down your arms.

Strange smiles at the sight. "Let’s find out."

He extends his arms and slowly opens his fists until orange symbols dance across his shaky fingers. The band around your wrist prickles at the weight of his magic flooding the air.

Strange’s cloak nudges you towards the center of the room and your heart gives a heavy thud. "What, right now?"

"Would you prefer being stuck for a couple weeks more?"

"Of course not it’s just—I don’t feel ready."

"No one ever feels ready until they try."

And maybe it’s because it reminds you of something Steve once said, but it makes you step up, falling into the stance you’ve practiced over and over again. You breathe in deeply and close your eyes.

The pull comes easier now. Your powers have just been resting, nestled somewhere deep inside your bones like glowing embers, waiting for you to call upon them.

When you look at your open palm, the green wisps of your powers have curled up to the size of a ping-pong ball. You take another steadying breath and let it glide to the tips of your fingers, carefully letting it balance itself out for a second before moving your other hand.

"Good," you can hear Strange say quietly.

Slowly, carefully, you let the threads untangle until they’re just about to touch the green band circling around your wrist. You can feel the electric tingle of it, the soft beat of each passing second contained within, and you push past it.

You’ve done this before, so you’re not surprised when you feel the energy drain from your body almost immediately. Up until now, though, it’s just been trial and error, not expecting anything to happen. This time, you have Strange’s magic feeding some of his strength into you as well, and so instead of hesitating, you press on, your heartbeat speeding up.

The band around your wrist does the same.

"Don’t lose your focus." Strange’s voice sounds very far away, almost warped.

Very funny, you might have said, but you’re too busy watching it all unfold.

The whirring inside of your head grows louder as the circlet of time keeps rotating with accelerating speed, faster and faster until your eyes start tearing up and there’s something that looks almost like a crack.

You gasp quietly. At first, you think you might have just imagined it, but then the split starts growing, the symbols growing farther and farther apart as the band itself keeps spinning. Your pulse is beating in your ears. Your wrist feels like it’s being set on fire.

There are voices, then, quiet and fast, like you’re watching a sped up movie, music and noises and chatter and birdsong and a whooshing sound like something flipping right past you. Then, something like distant shots.

I’m getting Bucky out of this, you think as the green band continues rotating until suddenly, there is a shockwave of green light that takes up your entire field of vision.

You close your stinging eyes, keeping your feet firmly planted on the floor as your powers rush through you once more and then, with a shudder, settle down again, exhausted. The glare subsides. Something like a trickle of sweat runs down your noncorporeal neck.

"Did it work?" you ask, your voice rough, not daring to look for yourself. There’s no answer, though. "Doc?"

Slowly, your eyes readjust to the gloomy darkness of your room in the astral realm. The only source of light is the glowing green band continuing to circle around your wrist, the rifts stabilizing again like it’s clicking back into place.

You swear under your breath and turn around to ask what went wrong, but Strange is no longer standing beside you.

You’re all alone.

***

Three, two, one—

"Iced grande extra whip caramel macchia—shit!"

You catch the plastic cup before it drops onto the suit of the business man standing in line in front of you. "Here you go, sir."

He grabs his drink with a grunt and hurries back outside. One of these days, you might ask him why he’s in such a hurry, but it’s not today.

You’ve grown to adore the noise of the pre-noon rush. The cacophany of the whirring machines, the AC and the people is just loud enough to make your head calm down a little. Besides, being alone in a crowd has never been easier than when you know for a fact they are not going to remember you.

The drinks are starting to pile up at the hand-out, and because you feel bad for your colleagues, you start handing them out to people. You’ve been here a lot, after all.

"Tall hazelnut latte for Misty!"

Plus, it helps to keep your mind from wandering back to everything that’s going wrong.

Strange still hasn’t returned.

The astral dimension feels different when you return the day after your experiment, like someone’s been pulling invisible strings to make everything just slightly more disordered and dark.

It’s cold, too. You watch your body shiver in her sleep as you wrap your arms around yourself. The books are still there, shimmering slightly with the magic they contain.

"Doc?" you call out, and the vibrations of this place hum it back at you. There’s no answer.

The book at the top of the pile is still opened to a page, as if it’d just been left a moment ago, and you pick it up. The words glide around like they are looking to jump back into an inkpot, and you have to squint to make out any of them.

Incursion, the section header reads. Result of a contraction in a universe’s timeline. Can cause premature disintegration or collapse of any one reality within the multiverse.

"Just great," you say, slapping the book shut again. "I get it, alright? You can come out now."

But there’s no sound apart from your own heartbeat.

Your noncorporeal head is swimming with pressure as you pass through the closed door and into the hallway. The walls seem larger than usual, the stairs warping ever so slightly underneath your feet so that you can’t look at them for too long without feeling seasick.

Upstairs, the air doesn’t feel quite as heavy. The silence follows you, though, lingering in the grayish morning shadows like the remnants of a nightmare.

Bucky still mumbles in his.

You can’t make out what he is saying, and you wouldn’t have understood the words, anyway, but there’s sweat on his brow again. His fingers are tightly clutching the thin throw blanket like it’s shielding him from whatever he’s seeing in his dreams.

You take a step closer to him, desperate to do something, anything, when you notice movement out of the corner of your eye.

Alpine is perched on top of the bed, complacently tucked into herself on one of the fluffed up white pillows like it’s really her room, not Bucky’s.

And she’s staring right at you.

You take a step to the side, then another. Alpine tilts her head, her large eyes fixed on you. They follow your gestures as you wave your hand.

A quick glance tells you that Bucky is still sleeping. You take a deep breath and conjure up a small dot of bright green light, letting it dance across your fingertips. Alpine uncurls herself in interest, her tail twitching.

"You can see me," you whisper, and the little spec of your power disappears.

The cat meows in disappointment.

Carefully, you move closer to the bed, reaching out your translucent hand until you place it on Alpine’s head.

She rubs against your palm.

You chuckle incredulously, scratching behind her ears. "You little devil."

Alpine seems particularly pleased with herself. She starts purring.

This is simply bizarre, you think as you continue petting her soft fur. You’re expecting a sarcastic comment from behind your shoulder any minute now, but it doesn’t come.

So, you lower yourself down on the floor next to Bucky, the tips of your fingers not quite grazing his arm as you swallow heavily.

And then you wait until he gets up.

It’s possible, you think as you watch him leave and then make yourself wake up too, that Strange is simply messing with you for the hell of it. You don’t like the timing of this, though. Your day still continues on and on and on, like it always does, but it seems just a little too pointed that this would happen right after you had your first hopes of getting out of here in a long time.

It doesn’t help that the reality glitches have decided to return with a vengeance.

Every day is still July 4th. You wake up with a start, you train, you get coffee, you fight over lunch, you take your astral visit, you go on that damn mission. It’s the details that start to get … fuzzy.

In the beginning, every single thing around you was the exact same every single day. Now, though, there are sometimes details that are just wrong. A different mug left on the drying rack. A mess all over the tables in the lab. Weird noises all over the Tower.

You don’t know what to make of any of it, and so in general, you follow Strange’s rule of thumb and simply ignore the things that are wrong one day and then right the next—which, thankfully, is all of them. You just go with it, telling yourself that this is simply reality malfunctioning a little, like a machine that needs oiling.

Weirdly enough, that doesn’t reassure you in the slightest.

But what else can you do?

You lose a few hours here and there, time seemingly speeding up at random sometimes now. One morning, Bucky isn’t in the gym like he usually is, and you work yourself up over it so much you nearly have a panic attack. In the end, you almost crash into him outside of his room, and a rush of reassurance floods through you with such force you can’t even look at him.

That time, Sam is there when Bucky gets shot, and it’s his cry that follows you into the next day. Your hands are clean this time, and somehow that feels worse.

Everyone’s back to their usual stuff again, and that’s that.

Another time, you’ve barely rolled out of bed and into your bathroom—"Rise and shine, McFly!"—when you’re suddenly jolted forwards and you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume. Your stomach feels like it’s still turning, nauseous, as if you’d sat up too fast.

That feeling still leaves a bad taste in your mouth, sticking to the back of your mind like the blood you haven’t even had time to wash off.

The thing that demands most of your attention, though, is the pile of books waiting for you in the astral realm. Since you don’t have any control over the loop itself, you pour all of your energy into trying to understand the theory behind your powers. It’s giving you a constant headache, and it takes a lot longer than you would like to admit, but at least you feel like you’re doing something that’ll last.

Nothing else will.

There’s one last lonely cup sat on the counter next to your own, which signals that the rush is over for now. You can see Lucy wiping her forehead as you wave your goodbye, picking up both drinks on your way out and handing one of them to the guy just hurrying back downstairs.

"Here you go," you say without stopping, glancing at your phone. You haven’t stayed this late before.

"What the—" you hear behind you, just before the doors glide open and you’re greeted by the sound of traffic and a hot breeze of air.

If you’re lucky, you can make it back to your room without anyone seeing you. You’ve moved on to a particularly hefty tome about relativity, and you’d like to—

"Hey! Miss? Hold on a second!"

You look over your shoulder to see the delivery guy has run after you, cup still in his hand. His bike is leaned against a lamp post nearby, his cap dangling off one of the handles.

You found out a couple of weeks ago that he takes his break just after dropping off your order, but you don’t usually make eye contact anymore.

Now, he holds out his cup accusingly. "That’s my drink."

You smile. "Good for you."

"No. No, that’s not—I mean—how did you know it was my drink?"

And because nothing really matters and you really want to go home, you say, "It has your name on it, doesn’t it?"

You expect him to look at you with wide eyes, just like people normally do when you know things you’re not supposed to. His mouth will drop open, speechless, his frown will deepen, and you can wink at him and continue on your way so he can spend the next couple of hours wondering what just happened.

The cup falls out of his hand, but somehow he manages to catch it before it hits the sidewalk. When he looks up at you again, and his expression is unlike anything you’ve seen coming.

"But that’s not …" he says quietly. "Do you remember me?"

And then it’s you who’s speechless, because the shock on Peter Parker’s face is more than you bargained for.

*****

"Honestly, I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this," you said quietly, looking over the rim of your glass at the crowd.

"You complaining?" you heard Sam’s voice say over the little earpiece you were wearing.

"Not at all."

Apparently, people connected to terrorist organizations threw incredibly fancy parties.

You hadn’t felt this glamorous in a while, if ever, dressed up to the nines in a dark green jumpsuit with an incredibly flattering cut that you’d never had a reason to wear before. Despite your initial doubts about this whole thing, you felt great, for the first time in way too long.

"Are you gonna move any time soon?"

Well. Mostly.

At least Barnes cleaned up nice, you supposed; it almost made up for his grouchy demeanor.

With a sigh, you downed the rest of your drink and got back to work. You let the crowd swallow you up, seemingly on your way to the restrooms, and then you stopped it all to slip upstairs unnoticed by prying eyes and cameras.

You didn’t hold it for very long; you had to rattle some doors, after all, and despite your espresso martini, it was still hard to tell if you could manage several redos back to back. After all, you’d only been back in the game for a couple of weeks.

It took you a few tries to find the right office, and locating the files was comparatively easy with what you already had access to. There it was, proof that ULTIMATUM had managed to secure most of the Flag Smashers’ previous supporters as well as some high brow weapon dealers.

While you copied everything onto a flashdrive, your eyes caught one of the designs. You frowned.

Even though you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, exactly, something about it seemed just slightly too highbrow for an organization of the international bad egg committee that was supposedly still mostly underground. Your gaze started drifting through the rest of the office, noting the usual boring books and glass awards in the bookshelves on the far wall. You pulled open one of the desk drawers.

"You almost done in here?"

"Fuck!" You slammed the drawer shut again, getting your pinkie stuck in the process. "Damnit, where did you come from?"

Bucky pointed over his shoulder.

"Fuck me," you murmured, your eyes stinging at the pain.

Bucky looked nonplussed. "Can’t you just undo it?"

"Great input, thank you." The flashdrive beeped softly and you shut everything down again. At least you were definitely sober now. "What are you, anyway, my babysitter?"

"Wouldn’t have to be if you could check in on time," he answered, checking the corridors, then nodding for you to follow.

"Time’s a social construct," you murmured, but followed him, the flashdrive hidden in your fist.

You didn’t even make it to the staircase.

"Didn’t I tell you?" a voice said right before several triggers clicked and you both froze. "I knew I’d recognized that arm. And who do you have with you here, Winter Soldier?"

No one, you thought, and then you yanked time backwards so forcefully you stumbled into the desk, your heart still racing. The copy sat at 57%.

You felt almost seasick with the rewind, but there wasn’t any time. "Keep going upstairs," you said into your earpiece.

"What?" Bucky said.

"I’m fine. Don’t come get me. Just keep going," you gritted through your teeth, trying to calm your breaths. 70%.

"Exit plan C, then," Sam said.

Bucky didn’t answer. You looked at your hands. There was a slight tremor to them, but nothing too bad. If you could get the nausea under control, you could probably make it past the cameras one more time.

You should’ve eaten more.

As soon as the flashdrive was done, you ripped it out and forced everything to a halt again. Your palms were sweaty as you hurried out of the office and in the direction of the staircase, your lungs burning. This didn’t feel like a good sign.

You stumbled over your damn heels and the noise returned for that moment you lost your concentration.

Not good enough.

Sweat pearled on your forehead as you and the universe held your breath again. You could feel your hold slipping with every second that wasn’t allowed to pass. Time was impatient with you.

A small crowd had assembled at the bottom of the stairs. As you closed in on them, you felt a jolt go through you and suddenly found yourself surrounded by people as time attempted to right itself again. Your nails dug into the skin of your palm so hard you could feel yourself draw blood.

It went quiet again and you moved through them, almost blindly. Everything seemed to be spinning.

Behind your shoulder, you could hear several people talking, interrupted only by the world stopping around them every now and then.

"—d’you—see that—"

"—could’ve—sworn there—”

And with time stumbling and flailing around in confusion, you made it out of the building and into the waiting cab.

chapter seven

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

[save-the-villainous-cat]

hurt comfort of a villain with abandonment issues x a hero who comforts and helps them

“Should you be looking at me like that?” the villain whispered with two of their delicate fingers holding up the hero’s chin. Their lips brushed the hero’s jawline sweetly, but the hero didn’t swallow the bait.

“Should you be moving your arm?” the hero asked back and the villain nearly mistook their concern for actual frustration. Without a second thought, the hero tightened the sling around the villain’s neck and glared.

Of course it hurt. Every move hurt. The villain’s clavicle was very far away from being healthy but they couldn’t help it. Being close to the hero was like a drug.

When they were with them, they couldn’t think properly. They couldn’t make rational decisions. They couldn’t concentrate on the pain.

It was like the hero was a saint who’d been sent to the villain. Their own personal caretaker, their own savior. That was obviously ludicrous. Attaching themselves to the hero was one of their greatest failures in life - after all this was about the both of them and power. It had nothing to do with personal feelings and it didn't leave room for any kind of personal relationship. Not the kind the villain craved, at least.

"Do I have to remind you that you shouldn't help the enemy?"

"You think you are my enemy?" the hero asked.

"Your agency thinks that."

The hero scoffed.

"Do I look like I care much about them?"

"You're so grumpy today," the villain whispered. Immediately, the hero's gaze softened.

"I'm sorry, I…I was worried. Am. I am worried about you. I want you to heal." The hero took another look at the villain's shoulder, then at their arm. The villain could tell they were tired.

"I never meant to make you worry. Please, if I am troubling you or-"

"You are not," the hero said. They looked up at the villain and smiled softly. "I am not really sure where this is leading to. I am thinking too much."

"What do you mean?" The villain could feel their cheeks heat up. It must have been too much for the hero. Too close. Too intimate. The villain could tell their enemy was going to leave, it was only rational - they had licked each other's wounds, had even shared a kiss. It was only a matter of time.

They couldn't breathe.

They couldn't think.

They weren't really anyone without the hero, were they? They wanted to throw up.

"I can change," they said quickly. "I promise, I can change for you."

The hero frowned.

"Huh?"

"I…" The villain heard their own heartbeat. "I mean it, whatever you want, I can give up the whole criminal thing, I will stop being so lazy, I promise I can do more, I can change for you."

They felt like throwing up. Why was this always happening to them? Were they really this rotten creature no one could stand? Were they really this horrible human being?

They knew they had made mistakes in the past and they knew being a criminal was not exactly…noble. But it paid the bills.

God, was the villain really such a nightmare? Nightmarish enough to be brought back to the orphanage over and over again, disgusting enough to be left to die, horrible enough to be betrayed.

"Okay, listen." The hero's eyes were wide, attentive. They pressed their right hand against the villain's chest, right where their heart was. The other found a place on the villain's torso. "I am not going anywhere. What I meant is that I am not sure how our relationship is developing. I don't want us to tiptoe around each other. I want us to be together."

The villain stared at them, their own eyes widening. They blinked.

"You can be so blunt…"

"You love that about me, don't you?" The hero pressed a soft kiss to their jaw and the villain's heart started to calm down gently. The hero really was a saint. So easily. They did it so easily. "Come on, I'll make breakfast and you rest some more."

[chrystal-ink]

Shadow X GN Reader

Intertwined

Based off of one of my favorite Dodie songs Shadow has a nightmare and you comfort him back to sleep lot of hurt/comfort with lots of sweet cuddles.

-Enjoy

It was his thrashing that woke you up. with the sheer amount of trauma it was never a bother to you, his nightmares. you were used to them at this point it. Still seeing the love of your life suffer at the chaos in his own mind made your heart break just as much as the first time you saw it.

you learned to proceed with caution, waking him up prematurely could cause him further confusion which would only make the situation worse. sometimes as much as your hand pressed against his back was enough to calm him down no waking up necessary. unfortunately, tonight was not one of those nights.

Shadow bolted upright out of bed letting out a cry of agony his eyes shot open as tears began to stream soaking his face and dripping onto the bedsheets below.

"Hey, hey, hey, I'm here it's okay." you leaped into action speaking gently as you made your way into his line of vision. "Take a deep breath it was just a dream. you're safe, I promise."

Shadow obeyed as you gently cupped his face wiping the tears from his eyes. He was shaking whatever he was dreaming about really must have messed with his head.

you wrapped your arms around him attempting to steady him. he buried his face in the crook of your neck wrapping his arms tightly around you, as if you were to disappear if he let go.

You waited for him to speak. It always took him a moment to collect his thoughts after a particularly bad nightmare.

"Are you sure you're safe with me?" He finally broke the silence.

"What? Of course I am, What makes you think that?"

"I know that people want me for my power, they can't hurt me, they know that, but what's keeping them from hurting you? Eggman he took you, tortured you, and let you die in front of me. all while I was powerless to stop him."

"That's not going to happen Shadow."

"How do you know?"

"Because, You won't let it, and neither will I, you trained me to protect myself remember?"

"yah but-"

"There will always be a but my love. Being with you, being with anyone really, there is always some sort of risk. I chose you and will continue to choose you despite those risks. Not because I don't care about them, but because every second you're in my life it makes all of those risks worth it. Feel this." You placed his hand on your chest so he could feel your pulse. "I'm still here, see? and you're here with me, which means no matter what even if an enemy crashes through that door right now I am still safe because were together."

"I still worry about you."

"I know, and I'm grateful just relax and lay with me for now, tell me everything I want to hear it you don't have to go through it alone.

You laid down, Shadow following suit placing his head on your chest so he could hear your heart beat, the rhythmic thumping calming him as he wrapped himself around you.

'Skin. Heat. Hair in your mouth, feet touching feet. you and I, safe from the world, though the world will try.'

you stroked the top of his head feeling him melt into you as your hand moved along his silky quills.

"You know you're the only one who can do that right?" He commented

You giggled "Yah, I Know"

You felt him smile against you.

'Numb, Fine, You create the rarity of my genuine smile. So breathe, breathe with me.'

Shadow began telling you about his nightmare, all the horrible details of an event that would never come to pass. He told you about the anxiety he felt when he couldn't find you. how he hated himself for letting you get hurt even though it was just a dream. he didn't want his mind to go there it just did on it's own.

'Can you drink all my thoughts cause I can't stand them'

Shadow wrapped himself around you further, as if he were trying to merge your bodies together, so you would never have to be apart again.

"I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you on my watch, I can't lose you, not in the way I lost everyone else."

"I know dear, that's why I won't let it happen."

'Intertwined. Free. I've pinned each and every hope on you, i hope that you don't bleed with me.'

the more shadow talked the more at ease you felt him become, his grip loosened on you as his muscles relaxed, his head grew heavy against you easing you into a relaxed state as well.

When he was done you thanked him for telling you everything, you reassured him that everything would be fine, as long as the two of you worked as a team which seemed to comfort him.

'I'm afraid of the things in my brain. but we can stay here and laugh away the fear'

you hummed mindlessly as you stroked Shadows head lulling him to sleep, you followed suit not long after. The rest of the night was silent as the two of you slept in each other's arms, fighting off whatever nightmares came your lover's way.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM FINAL FANTASY VII REMAKE *  assorted dialogue from the game, adjust as necessary

whatever happens, you can't fall in love with me.

promise you'll come and save me.

we need to make the most of the time we have... to live our lives the way we wanna live. every minute, every moment, matters.

i'm glad i met you, [name]. i really am.

i'm grateful for all the words we've shared, for all the moments and the memories.

you've made me more happy than you know.

there's a much bigger threat.

i just want to do everything in my power to help.

can i come?

then it's a date!

a long time ago i used to sell flowers here.

go. follow your heart.

i'm not some princess who needs to be coddled.

sorry i'm late.

this calls for a song.

this is a one time gig. when it's done, we're done.

survival can be a matter of luck or skill. and you can't rely on luck.

if it feels wrong, don't do it.

i'm a light sleeper.

when we were kids, everybody wanted to be a soldier. by the time i made it in, they didn't need heroes anymore.

i'm not cut out for this crap.

quit acting like you know me.

you have to look at the bigger picture here.

nothing worth fighting for was ever won without sacrifice.

hold onto this.

a good man who serves a great evil is not without sin.

i'm a man of modest dreams.

answer me!

would kill for a shower.

i'll be fine. you've seen how much ass i can kick.

it's kinda funny. us going our separate ways, thinking that must be it... that we'd never meet again... and then here of all places we do.

deep down, you're a pretty nice guy.

they took everything from us. again.

i don't care! i don't want anyone else to die, please!

we should totally celebrate!

i'm sick of this! i'm sick of all of this!

are you ignoring me again?

what's with you all of a sudden? like you're losing that hard edge.

you can't do this.

you gotta be better than this if you're gonna play the hero.

is it our destiny to defy destiny?

i am what you see before you. nothing more.

you are too weak to save anyone. not even yourself.

those who look with clouded eyes see nothing but shadows.

that was then, this is now.

you have failed again.

through suffering you will grow stronger. isn't that what you want?

do you fear me?

do you dream of me?

you're not real. you're dead.

you should rest up while you can.

can't sleep?

i heard footsteps.

sorry. didn't mean to wake you.

it kinda feels like i've gone back to my childhood home.

everyone dies eventually.

do i get a say in all this?

i'm coming for you.

did you miss me?

[missdynamighttt]

fantasizing about bf! katsuki paying for his pretty little girlfriend's nails because he wants to spoil you rotten.

at first, you were reluctant to book an appointment because you didn't have the time or the money. however, your pro hero boyfriend was wealthy, insistent, and super fucking stubborn.

“woman, if it’s something you want, i’ll pay for it," katsuki says softly, enjoying the feeling of resting his chin on the top of your head.

you were currently cuddling on your shared bed in the apartment, one of those slow days where you both had nothing to do but relax in each others arms. "i can drive you there if its a problem. no big deal.”

"katsuki, i can't ask you to do that," you say, looking up at him. "its too much. i'll just buy press ons or something—"

katsuki’s face scrunches up in the disgust at the idea of you using those press ons. back when you just moved in a few months into the relationship, those damn press ons were always everywhere around the apartment.

and sometimes, it'd get awkward when you're digging your nails into his flesh, moaning softly around him as he thrusts into you but then you make him stop half-way because your nail fell from the bed.

it got to the point where he found one of them under the drawer where you kept your... toys, and he knew they had to go. it took you some convincing, so he wasn't about let his hard work die in vain now.

"fuck no. i ain’t letting you walk around wearin' that cheap ass shit again," he scowled at you. "and the hell you can’t ask me. you're not askin', i'm offerin.”

"i dunno, katsuki..." you bit your bottom lip, reluctant to accept. it was nice that your boyfriend wanted to treat you but you couldn't help but feel guilty. "i don't wanna bother you. i don't need it that much 'nyway. and you could just spend your money on.. well, other things."

"the only thing botherin' me is you being difficult," he pouts at you, leaning down to give your lips a soft peck. "so, sweets, shut up. just let me take care of you, alright?"

and you were grateful you let him take care of you as you admired your freshly done nails a few days later, the glossy finish catching the light perfectly. you couldn’t stop smiling, especially when you remembered telling your nail tech about katsuki and she told you: "girl, hes so doing this because hes gonna propose. please say yes, for the love of god!"

of course, you wanted to express your gratitude for him. and what better way to thank him by wrapping your hands around his cock, fingers lingering on his length, showing off your new nails to him?

"fuck," katsuki hisses, breath shallow as he looks down at you. "god, baby, you look so pretty like this..."

you were on your knees, only wearing his shirt and your panties as a hand jerks off his length. the other holds his hand, fingers intertwined as you mouthed at his cock. you licked on the throbbing, pink tip, sucking the precum out of him with a blissed out expression.

you almost looked like you were in a trance. and seeing you there, looking all pretty and disheveled like a succubus, never failed to make his cock hard.

"yeah?" you look up at him with smiling eyes, pulling away from his cock with a soft, wet pop, rubbing a thumb on his aching tip before flicking your tongue at it again.

katsuki can’t hold back the soft moan that leaves his lips, his head lolling back as he tries to keep his breathing under control. he groans, his hips bucking against your touch.“fuckin' hell, woman, yeah.. so pretty.. just like that..."

katsuki's hand tightens around yours, looking at your newly manicured nails. he lifts your hand up, admiring them. the glossy finish really does look so pretty on you.

“fuck. they look so beautiful,” he murmurs, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "look so beautiful wrapped around my cock..."

"thank you, baby.." you flush a little, your tongue swirling around his tip. "..really appreciate it, i do. hope this serves as a nice thank you.."

katsuki’s face is tinged with a faint blush, his expression softening at your words.

“no need to thank me, sweets. your happiness is all the thanks i need. but this— shit,” he lets out a low moan when you suck on his tip again. "this is always.. a nice surprise..”

"surprise?" you smile. "you didn't think i'd do this to you..." you lap up his tip in between words. "after being so nice to me?"

katsuki lets out a quiet laugh, “you wanted to make me feel good, sweets? yeah? that why you’re on your knees for me?”

he gives you a playful grin, watching as your hand continues to move over his cock. his free hand tucks a strand on hair in between your ears, cupping your cheek. “always my good girl..”

you flush with embarrassment, thighs clenching from his words. "shut up.. bet if i bought you something you like, you'd go down on me too..."

katsuki can’t help but bark out a laugh at your comment, the image of you buying him a gift and him then going down on you was an appealing thought. but. he grabs your chin and tilts it up, forcing you to look at him and slowing down the pace.

“oh, baby. i’d make you feel so good. i'd eat you out like you were my last meal."

he gestures for you to open your mouth, his thumb tugging down your chin. and when you do, he suddenly spits on your tongue. you felt strangely vulnerable, swallowing it as his thumb rubs your swollen lips.

"but no way you’re buying me shit. that’s my job. to spoil you," his eyes darken at the sight of you sucking on his thumb, roaming over the concave of your mouth.

embarassment rose to your cheeks as you looked up at him, feeling flustered. "but... i wanna spoil you too."

he lets out a low hiss, feeling the vibrations of your hum around his thumb. he pulls his thumb out, his hand coming down to grab your chin, leaning down to face you.

"don't even think about it, sweets. i'm not asking," he tilts his head at you with a pout. "if you so much as buy me a pack of gum, i’m going to take you on a trip to bali."

your eyes widened in surprise, not sure how to, and voice your concern. a trip to bali would be great, but you just wanted to give him something too. "isn't that... uhm, isn't that a bit much?"

"don't give a shit. just let me have this one, alright?" he sighs, looking down at you.

"i want to take care of you," katsuki stroked your cheek with his thumb, a small smile creeping onto his face. "i like seeing that smile on your face when i do. makes me happy."

you felt your heart almost burst, looking at him with what feels like so much affection. he was just showing you so much love, how could you not melt?

katsuki knew he was getting soft, clicking his tongue at you. he scoffs, rolls his eyes and squeezes your cheek. "your nails looks cute anyway. got that?"

you bit your lip. whats the worse he could do when you bought him something anyway? after a moment of contemplation, you nodded, katsuki's grin spreading across his lips.

"good. now, get up here and gimme a kiss."

you nodded again, your heart racing as you stood up and perched yourself on his lap, breath hitching when you feel his cock press against your damp panties before pulling him in for a gentle, but passionate kiss.

katsuki groans into the kiss as you straddle his lap, his hands immediately finding your hips and pressing you down against his bulge. you can feel how hard he is beneath you, whimpering as he deepens the kiss.

“such a pretty thing,” katsuki murmurs, feeling how wet you are against him, looking down at the heat of your arousals. “gettin' me this hard and still having this on…”

katsuki's finger tugs on your panties as he kisses you in between words. he fists his cock, and hits the fat tip against your panties, hissing softly from underneath you. "you're so fuckin' wet, sweets, and i've barely even touched you..."

"katsuki..." you whimper, whining as you feel the head of his cock against you, almost kissing your clit through your panties. "please... can't handle it anymore... please, j-just—"

katsuki lets out a soft growl, leaning into your shoulder to bite on the curve of the skin. you squeal when you feel his lips and teeth graze your shoulder, sinking into your flesh, just wanting more of him, whining his name.

"please what, baby?" he murmurs, kissing the skin he's bruised on you. "be a good girl and use your words."

"wanna.. say thank you," you gasp, slowly grinding yourself on him. "please... please, fuck me.. katsuki.."

katsuki grins against your skin. there she was. his needy little thing he loved so much, practically begging to be ruined.

you’re suddenly on your back, the couch cushion soft against your back.

“atta girl.. now we’re getting somewhere,” his hands are already on your shirt, roughly yanking it up. “you gonna be a good girl and do what i tell you?”

you nodded eagerly, breathless as you let him strip you. not like you wanted anything else anyway. you tug down hard on your panties, tossing them to the floor and leaving you naked, your soft skin hitting the cold air.

katsuki watches as you kick off your panties, clearly looking all too pleased. he shifts, his torso hovering above you and caging you in between the couch. one hand moves up to your chin, pinning you to the couch and forcing you to look at him.

“you’re gonna cum screaming my name, got it?”

you hold onto his back, nodding as you whine from underneath him, ready to take what he could give you.

and when your newly-manicured nails digged into his skin as he thrusts into you, hot red nail marks decorating his back, katsuki felt nothing but pure bliss.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hi! Request for Duke Crocker please

"Why am I the only one naked right now?"

❤️

Tagging: @kmc1989 @of-mice-and-mirth @magic-multicolored-miracle @itsdanajane16 @trublu2u

Companion piece to:

Death In A Tarot Card - Duke learns his fate.

You aren’t in bed when Duke wakes up, he doesn’t hear your footsteps on the deck, or feel your presence in the room. Something has shifted he thinks, he isn’t sure what but he can feel it in the depths of his soul as he pushes himself up from the mattress.

He finds you in the galley, sitting at the small table by the porthole. Your hands are wrapped around a mug of Earl Grey tea as you stare out of the window at the sea as it laps against the starboard side of the Rouge.

"Why am I the only one naked right now?" He asks you as he leans in the doorway, the sheets gathered around his hips.

You sigh before you remove the two tarot cards out of your bag, setting them down on the table in front of him. His chest tightens as he looks down at them, your fingers tracing over the Death card.

“Did you ask me to marry you because you love me?” You ask him as you push it towards him. “Or because you found out you wouldn’t be here in a couple of months?”

“Why can’t it be both?” He asks you, his dark hair falling across his features as his eyes meet yours. “I’ve been carrying that ring around for weeks waiting for the right time and then it turned out there might not be one.”

“So your reaction to finding out you’re going to die is to come home, propose to me, fuck me stupid and then get up and resort to do the same thing all over again.” You say, your fingertip tapping on the Death card.

“I don’t want to die.” He tells you frankly. “But if these are my last days, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than inside that sweet pussy of yours, making you say my name.”

Your cheeks colour then and he really hopes that this isn’t one of the last times he gets to see you blush.

“If you’re serious about marrying me, I want to do it today.” You tell him as you push your own card forward.

It’s the Lovers.

A man that looks like him, holding a woman that looks like you. He’s seen this card a thousand times since the two of you got together, always sandwiched between the pages of a book. He can’t believe he’s never noticed the resemblance until now.

“I want to honeymoon in Cape Breton.” You continue as he picks up the card and stares at it. He notes the rings on their fingers, wedding bands he realises. “I want to make love in that little bed and breakfast we found in Nova Scotia, to see the Northern Lights, experience that magic with you…”

You trail off then because what you’re reciting, that’s his bucket list, the one he whispers to you in the dead of night.

“Today then.” He says, his voice rough as sets the card back down upon the table. “We’ll get married today.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

((Umm...... Lucifer did grab their rings 😅))

He had to make heaven think he was serious and that he wasn't going to be coming for Adam so it wouldn't be obvious, how could Adam seriously think he didn't matter to him?

Lucifer risked everything for him, he beat the shit out of an archangel for him! He was a little more focused on making sure they got the fuck out and didn't die.

He ran his hands down his face, he's so tired and he just wants to hold his fucking husband but he can't even have that.

Lucifer growled and hit his fists on his thighs only to hit something in his pocket: Ow!! The fuck is in there?

Angrily he shoved his hand in his pocket and he touched something small and smooth. Two somethings. Pulling them out part of wanted to fucking cry and the other wanted to throw them in frustration.

Their wedding rings. He forgot he picked them up when he grabbed Michael's sword.

Would have been nice to remember that five fucking minutes ago.......

Lucifer slipped his on his finger and looked at it, he remembered when Adam gave it to him and how amazing it felt and how happy he had been. How could he think any random replacement ring would have been okay? It would look okay, but they would be the real rings the true symbols of their love.

Lucifer cried, he found a piece of paper placed Adams ring on it with his name on it and placed it somewhere he would see it.

If he even wanted it anymore. Or him.

Lucifer never should have taken his fucking ring off and he never would again, he'd super glue it to his fucking finger if that would make Adam happy.

He left for what was now his office, maybe he could find something about this extermination day. Though he was certain it was exactly as it sounded.

Opening the office door, Lucifer was grateful that Satan was well organized the place was in good order.

Lucifer sat down and got to reading, he supposed he should know these things as King now......

Oh who the fuck was he kidding, he was as much a King as that fucking pen was.

-

Charlie: That was amazing!

Adam: See? There's a lot you can do kid.

She felt so energized and it was nice to finally have some one on one time with Adam. They had been at it for hours and now she was a little pooped.

Charlie: Adam? Can I ask you something?

Adam: Yeah sure.

Charlie: Are you two okay?

Adam froze: Look, that's-

Charlie: Because we spent a week working out the perfect plan to save you and the first thing you do when you get home is fight......... I know you're hurt.... But he loves you.

They spent a week on a plan to help him?

Adam: Charlie -

Charlie: Look, maybe it's none of my business but he made a mistake. Haven't you made mistakes?

Adam has made plenty of mistakes especially in their relationship. His biggest one killed Lucifer.

Adam: ...... Let's just call it a night.

Charlie sighed but nodded and went to her room. Adam probably should find him and talk about..... Even a little.

Adam: Lu?

He wasn't in the throne room, but a piece of paper caught his eye...... With a ring on it.

With a shaky hand, Adam picked up the ring. His ring. He could tell from the wear and the engraving on the inside..

Adam: Fuck....

He slipped it onto his finger and it was a perfect fit. When did he get this?

He needs to find him.

Adam walked around until he found the office where Lucifer was sitting behind the desk. He tried not to laugh, Lucifer looked so small sitting behind that giant desk. Papers everywhere, he looked so tired and broken.

And he had his ring on.

Adam: Lu?

Lucifer jumped, he didn't hear him walk up. He felt his heart break, was Adam here to tell him it was over? For good? He really tried not to cry but he should have known he never deserved to be with Adam, who was a fucking God of all things.

Lucifer: Y-yeah?

He was going to cry this was too much.

Adam came closer and before he could say anything Lucifer just broke down crying and apologizing.

Lucifer, his voice thick with emotion: I-I-I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry! I just wanted to get you back, I wasn't thinking. You mean everything to me, I-I-I love you so much, please I'm so sorry.

He sobbed and he didn't care, if Adam wanted to take his axe and split him in half he'd let him, he didn't care.

Lucifer didn't want to live in a world where Adam didn't love him.

I miss our God!Adam Au

Sequel 👀

In Canada Eh! Lmao

CANADA FOREVER

Yes plsss! I miss our stupid, power-hungry boy 😫😫

[syluss-karaoke-teacher]

Love and Deepspace - Nightly Rendezvous - Part III, Rafayel

Third part is up!! Rafayel and Sylus are my main boos, and I absolutely adored Intertidal Zone and the sensuality of it. This (and Sylus' upcoming one) were written wholly after the cards had dropped, so it's more faithful to the card's plot, but still with my own interpretation and imagination sprinkled in hehe.

Word count: 2248 words

MDNI! Tags and main text under the cut. You have been warned.

NOTE: This fic is only posted on tumblr and on AO3 under the pseud Yuli_Hunter. All other uploads on any other websites are non-authorized. I do not own any part of Love and Deepspace as an IP, but I do own this piece of fanfiction, and you are not allowed to repost it, copy it or otherwise claim it as your own.

That's it, enjoy! ❤️

Tags: reader!MC, fem!reader, PWP, fingering and oral (f!receiving), PIV, what do you mean I'm starting to repeat myself with these tags?

Not beta-read we die like Grandma

~*~*~

The bathroom is quiet, and the water in the tub is warm. After the blazing desert sun you thought you would never want to feel warm again, but the sudden snowfall, along with having to leave Rafayel to his own devices, reversed those thoughts. You sigh and lean your head back against the edge of the bathtub. You are not quite sure how long you have been here. After you woke up in the hotel parking lot the rest of the evening has been a blur. Your thoughts have been occupied by Rafayel so completely that at times you could have sworn you heard his voice in the empty room. The look he gave you before you left… You are sure you could spend an eternity gazing into the beautiful nebulae of his eyes and still not unveil all the mysteries hidden there. Today you would have wanted nothing more than to envelope him in your love so completely that you could have erased whatever sorrow held him captive. Alas…

You shift in place and the water splashes higher on your chest. The goosebumps it causes makes you realize how lukewarm the water has turned. You see that the falling snow has piled up on the windowsill, and decide it’s finally time to leave. But to do what?

You dry yourself with a towel and wrap it around yourself as you step into the bedroom. As you circle the room aimlessly you spot your black cocktail dress from the first night of your trip. It’s laying on the backrest of an armchair, carelessly tossed there after, well… You had tried to make Rafayel feel better on your first night here. You blush a little as you inspect the garment. It’s the only fancier dress you have with you for the trip, and you could have worn it to the art salon as well if not for Rafayel’s insistence to go alone. Seeing that he is yet to come back, your options are either to wrap yourself into a bathrobe, order room service and watch a movie all by your lonesome or use the opportunity to dress nicely for your own sake and eat dinner at the wonderful hotel restaurant. You turn the dress around for a moment longer before making up your mind.

Your push-up bra hangs discarded on the armchair along with the dress, and you slowly ease it and the dress over your still damp skin. Afterwards you go looking for a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, only to realize that your suitcase isn’t in the walk-in closet where you left it. You frown at the row of men’s shirts hung up in there and idly wonder how Rafayel has packed so much again that he feels the need to spread his outfits into your room too. It wouldn’t surprise you to find his paintbrushes in your makeup box next.

The suitcase isn’t in the bedroom either and at this point your tired brain starts to catch up. You go into the bathroom and stare at the vanity table. Cologne, a silver razor with shaving cream, hair mousse…

“Oh.” No wonder you only found this one dress and bra in the room.

Suddenly there are noises coming from the front door, and you walk towards them without a second thought. As you are almost out of the bedroom you come face to face with Rafayel.

His eyes are upon your face instantly. Before you have a chance to react, he grabs you by your wrist and waist and swirls you around to lean against the wall. He buries his face into your neck, sighing deeply and laying kisses onto your heated skin.

“Rafayel… what are you doing here?” you managed to ask as your mind threatens to go hazy again. You don’t seem to be faring that much better than Rafayel was earlier.

Rafayel pulls back for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, yet the heat in his gaze is enough to make your stomach flip. He pushes his thigh between your legs, and instinctively you grind against it. The action reminds you of your missing underwear and causes a shiver to run along your spine. Your eyes flutter shut, and a small sigh escapes your lips.

That seems to flick a switch in Rafayel, who surges forward with a groan and captures your lips in a searing kiss. It’s demanding yet gentle; it forces every thought, every last shred of your attention onto him. Rafayel circles his arm more tightly around your waist, pulling you fully against his thigh. With his other hand he cradles the back of your head as he licks your lips to ask for entrance.

You were never good at poetry, but for Rafayel you will have to learn some day: there are no ordinary words to describe what he does to you. Only a few moments of kissing and you are left feeling like a teenager again, thighs trembling with need and lungs begging for oxygen as your lover pulls back to admire his work.

“Wh…what are you doing here Rafayel?” you try again, and when Rafayel still won’t answer, you playfully bite his lower lip as he leans in for another kiss. Rafayel groans at the feeling and pushes his hips flush against you. He is rock hard, and it makes you feel a little bit better about your sorry state.

“This is my room. You came in here, not the other way around,” he finally murmurs. He runs a slender finger over his bruised lip before laying his hand on your chest. Slowly he lets his fingers slide down the black fabric of your dress as his eyes are fixed upon yours. Your breath hitches as he reaches the hem of the short skirt and grabs it, then pushes it upwards until your naked pussy is exposed.

“What I meant was… Shouldn’t you be at the even—tahhhh—” your question ends in a moan as Rafayel’s fingertips brush against your slick entrance. He rubs against you with such faint touches that it drives you mad.

“Did you plan on leaving the room like this?” he asks with a hint of jealousy in his voice, and pointedly ignores your own question. You feel yourself clenching over nothing and end up grinding down on Rafayel’s hand. He lets out a playful tsk and releases your cunt before reaching for the zipper of your dress. Once unzipped it takes only a few tugs to undress you and leave you clad in just the push-up bra.

With a pleased hum Rafayel leans down to kiss your breasts as he returns his hand to your core. He cups your sex and slides his index and middle finger inside you. He starts to slowly pump into you as he nuzzles your cleavage that’s rising and falling in tandem with his thrusts.

After leaving a mark of blossoming red onto your left breast Rafayel lifts his head with a lazy smirk. He brings his other hand to your face and presses his thumb in, sliding it back and forth a bit for you to get the gist. Your eyes widen and you whine pitifully before starting to bob the digit in your mouth, wetting it at the same speed he is doing to your cunt.

Rafayel’s eyes are almost black now with how wide his pupils have blown up. His mouth hangs ajar as he uses both of his hands to fill you. The fingers inside you curl against your g-spot and you moan around his thumb. You bring your own hand to circle your clit as you brace yourself for your impending orgasm. Rafayel grasps your chin, forces you to look only at him. You feel yourself racing closer—

Ding-ding!

The intercom on the wall near you suddenly bursts into life. You squeeze your eyes shut, and hear Rafayel cursing softly.

You have a call waiting!

It’s a small wonder Rafayel doesn’t use his Evol to blow up the offending device. The call signal rings again, and you slip Rafayel’s thumb out of your mouth.

“You should answer. It could be important.”

Rafayel turns back to you, and you look at him with the most innocent expression you can muster. You lick your lips and clench around his fingers. Your slick has dripped down to his wrist by now, and you are still infuriatingly close to your orgasm. The blazing annoyance in Rafayel’s eyes is nothing but a turn-on at this point.

Rafayel grits his teeth and pushes the ‘accept call’ button harshly. The intercom crackles to life, and an unknown male voice starts to talk. Rafayel’s hand slips out of you, and it makes you panic for a full two seconds.

“I am busy,” Rafayel barks at the intercom before grabbing your hips with his hands and hoisting you up into his arms. He crosses the short distance to the bed and sits you down onto it, crawling between your legs as the man on the call still asks him questions. You manage to hear the words ‘salon’ and ‘early’, before Rafayel rolls his eyes and dives his head down. You can only hope his friend doesn’t hear the sound you make as Rafayel goes down on you.

Strong hands hold your hips down as Rafayel brings you back to the precipice. His tongue is hot and heavy against your folds and he moans around you like a man starving. You grab his purple hair a bit too forcefully, but that only makes him more determined to please you. It isn’t long before you are bucking your hips futilely in his grasp.

“Raf, I’m so close, I’m—” you try to warn him, but Rafayel merely hums and pushes his tongue into you. Then you are tumbling over the edge, cumming straight into his awaiting mouth.

You chant Rafayel’s name like a prayer as he eases you through the aftershocks. His hands massage your hips, and he kisses the shivering skin of your inner thighs.

As you come to your senses you look at his beautiful visage between your thighs. He stands up slowly from the bed while pressing light kisses up your leg. With a final kiss on your toes he lays your heel on his shoulder and brings his hands to his belt buckle. You lick your lips as he slowly undoes his belt: something about the sure movements of his hands mesmerizes you. Rafayel toes off his shoes and pushes his pants and underwear down. As he does his cock spring free, slapping against his abdomen. The tip of it is flushed angry red and slick with precum. Rafayel hisses and brings his hand down to stroke himself. Despite having just come you feel your arousal simmering to life again as you watch Rafayel pleasure himself. You arch your back to unhook your bra, which has grown uncomfortable, and then move your free leg behind Rafayel’s backside to gently coax him forward.

“Please Raf, my love,” you whisper hoarsely, and hear his breath hitch in response, “I need you.”

You see Rafayel’s chest glow red above his heart. He crawls onto the bed, kneels between your still spread legs and lifts your hips up and over to his lap. He nestles his aching cock between your folds, rubbing up and down as he leans over you.

“That’s my line,” he murmurs and captures your lips into a soft kiss. It’s almost enough to distract you from the sharp intrusion as he suddenly pushes in and buries himself almost to the hilt into your pulsating heat. You moan into the kiss and claw his back as he rocks back and forth. The air between you is hot and heavy. You feel like choking on nothing, and Rafayel steals what little oxygen there is with his kisses. You can do nothing but hold onto him as he sets the pace.

You are a sweaty mess: your hair sticking to your forehead, and you are sure that your face is as red as Rafayel’s dress shirt. Yet, when he pulls back enough to lay his forehead against yours and gaze into your eyes, pure beauty is reflected in them. You can’t turn away, not even with the risk of drowning.

Rafayel turns louder the closer he is. His gasps, groans and whimpers tumble out of his mouth as he quickens his thrusts. He changes his angle ever so slightly until your voice matches his, and when he feels you tightening around his cock, he releases your hip to help you along with his fingers.

“Sing for me, cutie,” he pleads. And when have you been able to deny him anything? You come apart around him, your whines high-pitched and your back arched off the mattress. Splendid colors flash behind your closed eyelids as your orgasm coaxes Rafayel over the edge with you. As he stills inside you so do his moans, and in that silence you swear you can feel him coming straight into your womb with how deep he holds you in place.

You lay like that for a while, Rafayel still inside you, running his hand through your hair as he searches your eyes for an answer to a question you didn’t know needed an answer. He kisses the palm of your hand and the tips of your fingers, and you smile up at him.

“As long as you need. As much as you want.”

So he does.