#and i realized OH WAIT I ACTUALLY LOVE HIM

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 2/?

*slips another piece into your mailbox*

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Jazz was still feeling a little woozy from his donation in the dark hours of the morning. Blaster had breakfast changed from the usual to something that felt more like a treat, probably a reward for his good behaviour, and to help his body recover. Fish heavy in proteins, fat, all that healthy stuff. Something that normally he would have tried to savour, but he wolfed it down from excitement. Too many questions ran through his head, and most he couldn't bring himself to voice.

The mer, the mer would pull through. Blaster told him about how he had saved their life with his blood. Praised him high and low. Because Blaster knew how Jazz felt about seeing blood, about how hard blood tests were for him, and that was only a tiny vial. Not three big bags of it. Jazz hadn't seen how much they had taken – because he had kept his eye closed until they left in a hurry –, and hearing about it made him dizzy for other reasons, but he honestly felt real proud of himself.

It was a new feeling, different from other moments of pride – like when he figured out the lock codes. Yeah, this gave him butterflies and the drive to help more.

Blaster laughed when Jazz offered that the vets could take more if the other mer needed it. His handler didn't think it would be, but he would pass it on to the vet team.

Jazz's morning checks were a little off, expected with having a little less fluids and feeling off-balance, but it was kept short and quick. Blaster told him that if he learned anything more, he'd tell him next time he came by and then hurried back down to the staff area. Blaster was needed elsewhere, understandably as there weren't many mer experts here, though he did leave Jazz his waterproof stereo if he wanted to play some of his favourites.

But, the orca mer was far too busy causing a whirlpool from the laps he was swimming. He was too excited to sit still, and embarrassment be damned he started practising old vocals. He didn't remember much of his mother tongue, and he was pretty sure that his pronunciation was off, that or had one hell of an accent. Echo-speech was even more rusty. And once he had gone over and over what he could recall, Jazz began to really worry. A few sentences and handful or so of words was all he had? Gods, I hope I can at least make a decent first impression. Blaster said they were just like me, so hopefully, that will give me some starting points.

More than he cared to count, Jazz would swim into the shallow waters of the medical bay and hope to see something through that window. But no one ever came close enough for him to hear any news of the mer. He couldn't even see anything on his radar, wherever they had done treatment, it wasn't in the hospital ward. It almost felt like he was being purposely kept in the dark.

And just when Jazz was starting to worry that things had taken a bad turn, a group of staff turned up around four pm. He wasn't able to ask any questions, or rather they refused to answer. Shooing him away as they got to work. Starting with closing the gate to the bay to 'keep him out'. Jazz could easily climb those walls, but that wasn't the point. Even if the gate window was closed, he could pick up that they were setting up the water hammock. But it wasn't until he heard the cautionary beeping of the hoist lift approaching that it dawned on him – the mer was coming. Now.

"Jazz," Blaster called, "… Jazz," he blew the training whistle and finally got his mer's attention. "Stop pacing and get over here."

"But–" Jazz looked back longingly up the wall.

"Jazz," his tone dropped to a firm one, and Jazz begrudgingly swam over to the pier. The human crouched and made sure that they held eye contact before he spoke. "I need you to promise me that you will stay in your enclosure."

He sunk a little, trying to play into his cuteness, but being far too anxious to really pull it off. "What do you mean?"

"Jazz," now warning him. Blaster knew full well that he was more than capable of getting into or out of places he shouldn't, bloody Houdini mermaid, "this is serious. Things are going well, we want to keep it that way. Which means keeping things calm and feeling safe. You're excited, I get it, we all are. But in about an hour, they'll be waking up and – from past experience seen with wild Mers – they will likely freak out. And the last thing we need is you hauling your tail over that wall and making things worse. Understand?"

The beeping was louder how and the hiss of hydraulics caused Jazz to look up. The arm of the lift was visible over the wall. They're here!

"Jazz," Blaster hopelessly called for his attention once more.

Within moments, a massive bundle was carefully raised, the staff calling out and coordinating. Jazz's gaze was fixed on the black and white fluke poking out, it was the only part of them he could see, and his heart began to race. Once they became hidden by the wall again, Jazz moved back to pacing by the gate without even thinking. Listening to people hopping into the water to unstrap the mer and call back n' forth. "Careful, careful! – Watch the head! – Someone give me a hand over here! – We're clear on this side! – Keep the head up!"

Really starting to sound like a broken record, Blaster chirped the whistle and called out to him again. The expression he wore must have been pretty pitiful because the look on Blaster's face dropped. "If I open the view port… will you promise me that you will wait, that you will stay in your enclosure?"

"I promise," he answered hastily, placing his hands on the gate, over the panel that would slide open.

"And that you will wait until everything is in the clear, till the staff come to oversee the integration. There will be no rushing things and no asking staff when we will open the gate."

"I promise," he repeated, trying not to beg.

Satisfied, Blaster pulled out his radio, "Blaster to Control; when the team is out of the Mer enclosure's medical bay, open the view port. Jazz's stress is mounting without a visual."

"Can do," came a quick reply.

Though, opening the panel was not. Several minutes went by, the hoist had cleared out, and much of the staff had returned to their other duties. Only two remained double-checking the mer's breathing and pulse. The moment that the last of them left, Jazz heard the lock disengage, and he retracted his hands as the panel shifted and began to slide open. The window was too small to get more than his hand – maybe up to his elbow if he wanted to push it – through, and sat just at water level– any movement sending water hopping to either side. But it gave him a clear view of the surface area inside.

Oh.

Oh. Jazz stopped breathing. While the mer's body was mostly supported by the fabric of the hammock, cradling them on their side, effectively hiding most of them from Jazz's angle. Propped up on a soft floating platform was the mer's head, face towards the gate. Sharp features and elegantly shaped finials, with flattering lines of their markings complimenting the peaceful expression as they slept. The butterflies from earlier came back stronger than ever, his heart thundering as words fumbled from Jazz's lips, "he's beautiful…"

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-GLC

Orca Prowl really is just-- too fucking pretty, omg, I'm living through Jazz in this moment like when I first saw your designs of him.

I'm more than happy to continue writing for you, you bring me so much joy. I screamed when I saw how much you liked it. If you have any requests you would like me to add to the story, leave it in the tags or comments ♡ I now plan to continue until the tsunami and a bit afterwards, maybe more, we'll see~

Oh. MY GOD. OKAY ALRIGHT OKAY ALRIGHT OKA

I'M ABOUT TO START PACING IN CIRCLES JUST LIKE JAZZ OVER HERE KDLCNFJFLFB PL E A S E THIS IS SO GOOD. The tension?? You can fucking TASTE it IT'S SO GREAT GLC I LOVE YOU

The way it all starts at night and then you (as a reader) have all this additional time to boil in your anticipation?? So fucking great. Like you can really feel how little power Jazz has over the wholse situation. The plot is moving but he doesn't have any saying in it. Well. Yet heheh

Anyway haha. Im normal and I made some art>:D

[humanjarvis]

caught in a lie

synopsis: when you ignore caleb’s calls, he catches you trying to run from the consequences. you make a false promise to appease his anger, not expecting your lie to unravel. but almost immediately, it does.  

tags: based loosely on caleb's "hidden waves" memory, porn with plot, manipulative!caleb x manipulative!reader, brat!reader, mean(ish) dom!caleb, caleb makes out with your cunt for an hour, reader cries, belly bulge, 3 brother mentions but they’re done ironically/out of spite, humiliation, semi-public sex (caleb makes you call and cancel plans with that friend while he fucks you), lines lifted directly from hidden waves in bold pairing: caleb x fem!reader  word count: 3.9k

a/n: love the scene this is based on bc it reminds me of my favorite book from the wattpad era in 300 BC. also this is my first time writing full-on smut and omfg i don't know how people write like 10k of it u guys are wizards. but the response to this will determine how explicitly i write going forward, no pressure

As the Skyhaven nightscape twinkles around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re forgetting something. 

You’d had a great night: Simone had invited you to a cute café, the owners had given you a free muffin, and the raging storm from this afternoon had dwindled into a drizzle. But still, a sense of foreboding loomed over you, threatening to taint the precious memories you’d made tonight.

“...And next week we can go to this new bar downtown! I heard they have the best drinks, and there’s even a puppy mascot they let walk around and play with guests. Doesn’t that sound fun?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you agree absently, Simone’s words going in one ear and out the other. “I’ll be there.”

As you walk farther down the sidewalk, the vibrant city atmosphere melts away your worries. People of all ages were out splashing in leftover puddles, trying new food stalls, and window shopping in the strip of stores that lit your path. Gradually, you give up on trying to place your unease, surrendering fully to the comfort of the cool night air.

“Hey!” you exclaim, an idea popping into your head. “Do you want to find a photobooth and take some pictures? I want something to remember tonight by.”

“Oh my gosh, absolutely,” Simone responds. “There should be one not too far from here. I went with my brother a few months back! It was really fun.”

At her words, you stop in your tracks. Her enthusiasm is no match for the dread building in your chest. 

Caleb.

Caleb who’d told you to text him when you got to the café, when you were about to leave, and when you were almost home. 

Caleb was what—or who—you were forgetting.

Slowly, you reach your hand into your purse until you feel your phone, digging it out and staring as if it were a venomous animal. Taking a deep breath, you tap the screen awake and immediately lose the air you’d just inhaled. 

7 Unread messages

4 Missed calls

3 New voicemails

Fuck.

“Uh, actually,” you start, chucking the device back into your bag, “I just realized I didn’t bring a brush! There’s no way I can take pictures without fixing my hair—it’s like a bird’s nest up there,” you ramble, giggling nervously. “Can we end the night here?”

“O…kay?” Simone says, clearly confused by the sudden shift in your mood. “Yeah, we can go back now. Your hair looks fine, though.”

Thanking the universe for giving you such an agreeable friend, you walk back to her car, the quickness of your usually unhurried steps betraying your agitation.

He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, you think. 

As the familiar outline of Simone’s car comes into view, she turns to face you. “Do you want a ride to the train station? I told my girlfriend I’d be home at 1:30—I have another hour.”

“Wait!” you cry, throwing your hands out in front of you. She looks at you as if the intensity in your voice is unnecessary. Which is true, because she’s standing a foot away. Quieter this time, you ask, “Would it be okay if I spent the night at your place? Just this once, I promise.” 

“...If you really need to,” she agrees warily. “As long as you don’t mind cat hair.”

When you reach her car, Simone gestures for you to wait as she walks around to the passenger’s side. “I just need to clean up real quick. The granola bar wrappers build up when you’re constantly called in early for emergencies.” 

But when Simone pulls on the door handle, it doesn’t open. “Weird,” she mutters, wiping raindrops onto her jeans. “I swear I unlocked it.” 

She clicks a button on her keys and tries again. Inexplicably, the door still doesn’t budge. “It’s like some force is holding it shut or something,” she says. At that, an alarm sounds in the back of your mind. But before it can reach your consciousness, she continues. “Well, I have a locksmith on speed dial anyway—I’m always losing my keys. But before I call, seriously, are you ok? The way you asked me to stay over….Is there something scary waiting for you at home? Why do you look so worried?”

"It’s probably because I’m home,” the all-too-familiar voice rings out behind you. 

In an instant, your entire body goes rigid. Your now-pounding heart screams at you to run, but you can’t obey without making a scene in front of your friend. 

Plastering a smile on your face, you turn around slowly, as if the longer you took to face him, the more likely he’d be to disappear.  

You had no such luck. Towering over you, umbrella in hand, was Caleb, his normally expressive face a wall of stone. 

Despite his obvious anger, he steps forward to shield you from the downpour and you refrain from taking a step back—against your better judgment.

“Caleb!” you remark, your voice shrill with unease. “What a surprise!”

Ignoring your greeting, Caleb turns his attention to Simone. “Skyhaven isn’t very safe tonight,” he says coolly. “You’d better get home.”

The finality in his words makes it clear: you won’t be joining her. 

“Um, sure,” Simone trails off, wary eyes searching yours. “Will you be alright?”

“...Yes, it’s okay.”

Though your words don’t seem to convince her, Caleb’s penetrating glare does. She quickly walks to the driver’s side and effortlessly pops the door open—surprise, surprise—before jumping in. Giving you one last look, your only chance at salvation drives into the night.

The ride back to Caleb’s house is silent. You scoot as close as you can to the window beside you, paying no mind to the intensifying patter of rain against the glass. All that you notice is how he grips the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. 

When you pull into his driveway and exit the car, he walks closely behind you, preventing any more last-minute escape attempts. His imposing presence follows you inside and all the way to his bedroom. 

When you both cross the threshold, the air thickens with tension as you stand in silence, unmoving. 

“Well, goodnight!” you call when you can’t take it anymore. But before you can take one step, Caleb swings the door shut with his Evol. Huh, you think. Doors must be his speciality tonight.

“Where do you think you could possibly be going after the night you gave me?” he asks, steely voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Listen—” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“You ordered coffee three times. Burst out into laughter I could hear from outside six times. And yet, you somehow managed to check your phone zero times.”

“If you’d just given me more time, I was going to—”

“You were going to what? Because here’s what I think would have happened: If I hadn’t picked you up, you would’ve gone to your friend’s place, right? Then, you’d message me with an apology. Oh, throw in a cute emoji as the cherry on top,” he snorts. 

“With that done, you’d put your phone away and curl up into a ball to sleep. You wouldn’t even dare to check my response. You’d wait it out and believe I wouldn’t be upset. And once I’m away on a mission or somethin’...you would sneak back into the house and pretend nothing happened. Tell me,” he challenges you. “Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong—not about your habits, at least. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you snap. “I thought you said you were ‘done playing games’? You don't have to act so big brother-y all the time.”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Caleb’s head rears back, his eyes going wide in incredulity before he scoffs. 

Alright, you sigh, time to turn on the waterworks. 

Taking a deep breath, you force tears into your eyes. “Caleb,” you begin, “I really didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just having so much fun. S-someone brought their puppy to the café and I got distracted.” The café hadn’t allowed pets, but you needed all the sympathy you could get. You’d have to thank Simone for telling you about that new bar later. “I won’t do it again. I won’t even go out at night anymore—promise.”

As he takes in your pitiful expression, you see Caleb’s resolve start to crack, the twitch in his right eye giving away how much he wants to console you. Maintaining your pout, you internally grin like a Cheshire cat. He could never say no to you. He could never le—

Your phone rings.

You thought you’d turned it off in the car, but your fucking phone rings. Right when you have him where you want him. 

The shrill tone sucks the air out of the room, and with it, any hope for your escape.

“Answer it. Speaker.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Visibly shaken, you fish your phone out of your bag and accept the call. “H-hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Simone. I’m calling to check on you—that guy who took you home was kinda scary. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything. Are you okay?”

At the insinuation that he’d ever harm you, Caleb’s face turns thunderous, his jaw clenching so hard you’re afraid it’ll snap. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Thanks for worrying though, that’s really sweet,” you add, your eyes darting up and immediately back down after meeting Caleb’s glower. 

“That’s great, I really was worried,” she says, relief evident in her voice. “Well, before you hang up, are we still on for same time next week at the bar I mentio—”

You hang up as soon as she reveals your plans, throwing your phone so abruptly it bounces off the chair where your purse sits and onto the carpet. But it was too late. There was no sweet-talking the irate scowl off of Caleb’s face. You’d lied. 

Like a deer in headlights, you stand frozen and helpless as Caleb stalks toward you. 

“You almost had me,” he chuckles darkly, squishing your cheeks between one hand. “And I bet you knew it, too. Remind me to thank Simone for being such a good friend later.”

His grip tightens when you try to respond, and he pulls your face closer to his instead. “I think I’ve had enough of you talking for now. No point in hearing it if you’re just gonna lie to me again.”

With uncanny speed, he lifts you by your legs and tosses you onto the mattress. When you attempt to sit up, hoping to crawl away, he captures both of your wrists in his hand and claims your lips in a bruising kiss. 

“Don’t talk.” A kiss. “Don’t move.” Another. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do, and I might not chain you to this bed.” You’re so distracted by his final kiss—the exclamation point—that you barely register when he yanks your loose pants down, baring your cotton panties to him. 

When he spots the wet patch spreading through the middle, he moans, shifting to push his nose into your center. The deep inhales he takes seem to calm him down, and his voice loses some of its earlier edge when he murmurs, “Can’t believe you were keepin’ her from me tonight. Look at how much she missed me.”

He demonstrates by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your panties, tasting you as you leak harder under his tongue. The whimper you let out falls on deaf ears as you remember his command: Don’t talk. 

Licking a stripe up your clothed folds, Caleb sighs into you in contentment. “Gonna see her in a second,” he breathes. “Just can’t give her too much at once, or she’ll get greedy.” 

He’s too far gone, you think, closing your eyes in preparation of what’s to come. But nothing prepares you for the way the seemingly sedated Caleb rips your panties open at the seam, exposing your hot skin to the cool air. 

With no hesitation, he plants a long kiss onto your core, his lips smacking against the fat of your outer folds. Covering your skin with a flurry of pecks, he moans into you, his intermittent licks becoming sloppy, appreciative kisses. 

Caleb was making out with your cunt like your brain wasn't in the room, kissing it like he hadn’t seen it in years. The sensations and lewd squelches make your arousal unbearable, but when you try to grind into his mouth—to get him to do something more—he pushes your hips into the mattress. 

“Don’t interrupt us,” he mumbles, lips still latched onto your unspread cunt. Heat rushing to your cheeks, you flop your head back down, defeated as the man ignores you to have his heartfelt reunion with your core. 

An agonizing few minutes later, you feel him press a last hard kiss against your skin before finally spreading your soaked folds. “Can’t believe you ever thought you could hide from me,” he growls, eyes sparkling. “I’ll show you you can’t. Make you never want to again.”

Slowly, he licks up and down your wetness, teasing his tongue around your entrance. You try to relax during his ministrations, knowing he won’t give you what you want this early, but he catches you off guard when he buries his tongue into your weeping, sputtering hole. 

A strangled moan escapes you as he fucks you with his tongue, twisting, turning, and circling himself inside you. 

One pulse has your walls flexing with desperation, and Caleb pulls back slightly when he feels you tighten around him. “Look at that, I think she’s kissin’ me back,” he coos, a string of his saliva refusing to part from your quivering cunt. 

Spurred on by the whine you give him, he flashes you a wicked grin before diving back in, plunging his tongue in and out at a punishing pace. 

All the while, he studiously avoids where you need him most, licking and kissing everywhere but your twitching clit—neglecting it like you did him earlier in the night.

Suddenly, he lifts his head up, flashing you a quick smirk. “You know,” he starts, licking his glistening lips. “When you were givin’ me all those crocodile tears and cryin’ about puppies earlier, you never did say sorry for trying to run. How about now, hmm?” he asks, pressing a wet kiss to your center. “You sorry?”

You pant out an incoherent moan, and he nips at your clit—the first time he’s touched it all night. Ignoring your squeal, he gives you another kiss. “I don’t know what that means. Try again.” 

You go to speak again, but Caleb suddenly rubs his nose against your clit, your resulting gasp sending your back shooting off the bed. He swiftly slams you back down with his Evol, giving you another nip. “Just two words, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Two words, loud and clear. Want to know you mean it.”

You don’t know what it is—the last strands of your pride clinging on for dear life, your stupor after being toyed with for almost an hour, or pure stubbornness—but you can’t bring yourself to say it. With a whimper, you clamp your mouth shut, staring at the ceiling in rebellion. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, looking up at you briefly. Before you can even process it, Caleb covers your clit with his mouth and sucks, simultaneously groaning into you. The combined sensations set your nerves on fire, and you come in his mouth with a prolonged cry. 

“I’m sorry!” you wail, the tears in your eyes genuine this time. As Caleb laps up your release, chants of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—oh—I’m sorry,” fall through your lips, your earlier defiance reduced to blubbering submission. “Should’ve checked my phone and called you back, I’m so sorry.” 

You’ve apologized ten times over, it feels, but he won’t let up. He suckles you until it aches, and there’s nothing you can do but lie there and sob as his Evol keeps you pinned down. When he’s finally had his fill, he presses a reverent thank-you kiss to your cunt before crawling up your body, nestling in between your thighs. 

“Aw, none of that, now,” he coos, wiping under your eyes. “I forgive you, alright? I forgive you for getting distracted, baby.” Still crying, you nod frantically, leaning into his gentle touch. “But if you ever run from me again, whoever you’re with won’t like what happens when I catch you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead before plunging into you. 

Though his pace is relentless, your walls draw him in, his earlier date with your cunt letting you take his thick length with ease. 

When the pressure builds and you shy away from his brutal thrusts, he turns your chin toward him, pressing an ironically chaste kiss to your mouth. “No running, remember?” 

As you hurtle toward your release, he leans close, kissing you briefly before speaking into your lips. “The next time you wanna ignore me—next time you wanna hide from me and lie to me sayin’ you’ll be good from now on—I want you to think of this, to think of me right here,” he murmurs, palming his cock through your belly. You squeal at the foreign feeling, but he only adds more force, and you think you’re about to pass out.   

“My baby,” he chides. “Loves to act out but she can’t handle the consequences.” While he speaks, he folds your left leg up, pushing it to your chest so he can penetrate you deeper.

“Please, Caleb!” you beg, the new angle making stars float across your vision. As your body rocks with the force of his strokes, you cry, “I said I was sorry!” 

“Mm, you did,” he nods, absorbing a tear on your cheek with a kiss. “But I don’t think you really are. Not yet.”

Without warning, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach before sliding back in. Resuming his thrusts, he uses his Evol to pick your forgotten phone up off the floor. “Call her back. Speaker,” he orders. 

At first, you're flustered into hesitation, but as he holds the phone ahead of you and taps through your history to do it himself, you pull yourself together. “Wait,” you wail. “Wait. I’ll do it.”

You do it.

When Simone picks up, Caleb shows you mercy by decreasing his pace so the sound of slick skin colliding doesn’t travel through the phone. 

“Hey Y/N, what’s up? Is it about earlier? …Did something happen?” she asks in concern.

Frantically, you twist your head to look up at Caleb, not knowing what to say. 

Leisurely, he folds forward over you, his chest flush with your spine so he can whisper in your ear. Throughout his dramatics, your time to respond without raising suspicion wanes, and you grow more desperate by the second.

“Hi Simone,” Caleb finally whispers, pressing kisses to your ear in time with his languid strokes.

“H-hi Simone,” you repeat louder, a slight tremble in your voice.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for checking in. That guy, the one from earlier—he can be so mean sometimes,” Caleb murmurs, pouting his lips in ridicule. 

“I just wanted…wanted to say thanks again for checking in. The guy from earlier—hah—can be so mean sometimes,” you echo, breathless from the impact of Caleb’s hips rocking into yours.

“Can we reschedule our plans for next week? My big brother’s,” he emphasizes, mocking your earlier jab with two deep thrusts, “coming home, and he really misses me.” As he feeds you lines, the taunts in his words break through the softness of his whispers. 

As softly as you dare to, you whimper for him, hoping it’s enough for him to end his torture.

But as the phone screen goes black from inactivity, you see his smirking reflection looming over your humiliated one. The only way out is by appeasing him. 

“C-can we reschedule our plans for next week? My…my friend—” 

As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Caleb lifts off of you slightly, landing a harsh smack on your ass.

“Y/N? What was that noise? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you all but moan as he bites your neck, reprimanding you further for breaking his script. 

“My friend is visiting next week, and he really misses me,” you finish, waiting with bated breath for her—and Caleb’s—reactions. 

“Oh…sure, Y/N. That’s fine with me. That’s a lot better than I was expecting, you sounded like you were in trouble for a second.” Caleb smirks against your ear. “Just let me know when you want to reschedule.”

“Sounds good,” you breathe as Caleb’s thrusts return to a faster pace. “I-I gotta go, I’ll see you later!” you rush, almost squealing as you end the call. 

For the nth time that night, you want to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you just did that,” you whine, your voice mixing with the renewed slaps of skin on skin. 

Chuckling, Caleb lifts off of you, his sudden absence from your cunt making you shudder. In an instant, he flips you over so you’re face-to-face before entering you again. 

“Technically, you just did that,” he smirks, his thrusts now lazy and sporadic. “I don’t remember pressing ‘call.’” His matter-of-fact tone is teasing, but you knew that if you hadn’t canceled on Simone, he’d have made good on his earlier threat. He always does. 

As you open your mouth to retort, Caleb’s face grows serious, and all your neurons responsible for making witty comebacks seem to atrophy at once. 

Caleb leans down, light bites on your throat punctuating his confession. “I can’t stop at wanting you not to run from me anymore. I want you to stay with me. To choose to, for as long as we live, for the next hundred years.” 

“But what if…” you trail off, but he understands what you’d been implying. 

At that, his eyes darken. Rutting into you with renewed fervor, he grasps your chin tightly, holding you captive in his gaze. “You’ll be around for however many years I’m alive and kicking,” he growls. And you believe him. 

Nerves alight, mind numb, and core throbbing from your impending climax, you nod as much as his iron grip allows you to. “I’ll stay,” you whisper, kissing his thumb near your lip. “Wanna stay—with you.” 

Letting out a strangled huff, Caleb surges forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. He bites your bottom lip as he presses down on your stomach once again, and you careen over the edge, feeling the hot spurts of his release intensify the flood inside your cunt. 

With a shuttering groan, Caleb collapses to your left, immediately closing the space between you with a hug. You stay like that for a while, your sore body curled into his arms as you face each other on the bed. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly, rubbing circles into your hip. “I know it was a bit much.”

“Forgive you,” you mumble into his chest. “Felt good.”

He chuckles, tapping your nose twice. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. Or else I’ll want to keep testing your limits.” 

When you fall asleep in his warm embrace, Caleb looks down at you intently, trying to brand the visual into any part of his commandeered mind that’d take it. Daring to disrupt the image, he gently untangles your bodies, lifting you before laying you back down on top of him. 

At peace for the first time that night, Caleb looks out the window, smiling to himself. The rain has stopped.

[sacredsorceress]

Hey queen! I love the way you write fluff! But help a girl out and send my love to worst!wolverine Logan. Poor man is just tired and I just wanna give his some stability in his life 😮‍💨����

-🦑

my secret is that worst!wolverine is actually my favourite but i cannot write wade for the life of me so i haven't gotten to any fics for worst!wolvie yet. but god do i love thinking about giving logan the stability and domesticity he deserves...

⋆｡°Roommate!Worst!Wolverine⋆｡°

It all started with an attempted break-in of your apartment.

Afterwards, you ran (well, really, you took an Uber. After a close call such as that you were feeling uneasy about traversing the city at night on your own) to Wade's apartment.

A rapping against the door forced Logan from his alcohol-induced reverie. An old movie- black and white and far too reliant on gimmicks for Logan's enjoyment- had continued to play through his stupor. He felt around for the remote.

Checking his watch- a cheap thing he had bought at the local convenience store- the time blinked back at him. 3:42.

The rapping on the door escalated to a pounding.

Logan threw off the thin blanket that covered his knees. His forgotten beer bottle slipped from his lap, onto the floor and shattered.

"Ah shit."

He pushed himself up from the couch with a groan. With his stature, Logan crossed the apartment in five strides, throwing open the door as you lifted your fist to continue.

"Oh." You said surprised, dropping your hand to your side. "Logan. Hi. I was looking for Wade."

Logan, who knew Wade had disappeared for the evening with Vanessa, clicked his tongue.

"It's a bit late." He said gruffly.

"Yeah, well, tell that to the guy who just broke into my apartment."

You slipped past Logan and into the kitchen, the realization of what had just happened to you- what could have happened- settling in.

Locking the door behind you both, Logan followed you with his brows furrowed.

"What?"

Logan blinked a few times, sobering up at your last sentence. Someone broke in?

"Some crazy guy broke into my apartment." You explained, hugging yourself. "I scared him off with a knife, thank god, but what would have happened if I hadn't woken up? I didn't know what to do, Logan, I was so scared I ran right here."

In the past few weeks of living on Earth-10005, Logan considered himself well-behaved for the lack of violence he had found himself in. Now, however, he felt a familiar red, hot rage.

Despite the few moments you and Logan had shared in the short amount of time, you had left your imprint on him.

You were uncharacteristically kind to him: far more gentle and friendly than he felt he deserved. Everyone smiled when you walked into a room and it wasn't simply because of the fresh baked goods you carried in your hands; the fresh aroma of vanilla and cinnamon trailing behind you as you went. You were warm, funny, soft: attributes Logan had nearly forgotten existed behind the cold, hard walls he had built.

To think that someone had ill intent with you made him not only sick, but furious. Enraged. In the brief moments where his mind would run ahead of him, imagining the soft touch your skin on his and how your lips would feel against his rough cheek, he had felt twisted- perverted. Logan didn't deserve your love and any fantasy his mind conjured for him felt like an affront to your generosity.

And all he had wanted to do was treat you right. Who did this sick fuck think he was?

"My friends are right," you wrung your hands. "I shouldn't be living alone. It's not safe."

Your eyes glanced over to the scratchy couch on the far side of the living room. A discarded blanket and flattened pillow from who knows how long ago laid amongst its cushions.

"Wait, Logan?"

"Huh?" Logan asked, pulling himself from his thought. It only occurred to him then that he hadn't responded in a while.

"Would you... want to move in with me?" You asked, fingers toying with the frayed edge of your jacket, unable to meet his eyes. "I know that you don't exactly have the best living arrangement here and it would just... make me sleep easier knowing someone else was there. I'd feel safer with you around."

I'd feel safer with you around.

Now, that was something Logan hadn't heard in a while.

He stood a little straighter, bolstered by your confidence in him.

"I don't know, bub." Logan said, leaning against the cabinets. "You sure you wanna guy like me around?"

A dry laugh escaped your throat.

"I'd prefer to have a guy like you around." You said. "What do you say?"

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

With only a backpack full of his belongings and a note to Wade in chicken scratch left on the counter, Logan moved in the following afternoon.

"And this..." you said, opening the door to the last room. "Is your room. I know it's not much, but I got you some new sheets and a phone charger-"

The room, quaint but equipped with a queen size bed, two matching nightstands, a window, and a desk was more than Logan had had even in how own universe. At least since-

"This is nice n' all," Logan said, shaking his head. "But I can't accept this, sweetheart. The couch'll do just fine."

Sweetheart.

You shook your head.

"I'm not taking no for an answer, Logan." You said, inviting him into the space. "This is your room. Besides, I like my couch too much to give it up for you."

You smiled at the last sentence, informing Logan that it was part joke (but also part not).

"I'm going to go finish dinner." You said. "And before you even say 'don't worry about me': save it. I've seen how empty Wade's fridge is and I'm not going to have you not eat, okay? Let me do this for you."

Logan brushed his hand through his hair and chuckled.

"Alright then."

With a triumphant nod you left the room.

Logan tossed his backpack onto the bed and took in the room around him. The sheets that had been neatly tucked into the bed were a crisp white and held the distinct scent of laundry detergent from its wash earlier that day. Draped across the comforter was a soft blanket- hues of browns and greens that stood stark against the pure white benath.

Was this hand-knit?

Brushing his fingers against the cloth, he turned and glanced at the desk where a journal caught his eye.

A yellow sticky note sat atop.

Welcome home, Logan

Logan's calloused fingertip ran over the script, feeling where your pen marked the paper with the loops, swirls, and divots of your penmanship... for him.

The journal beneath was leather bound and carried weight in his hands. Logan flipped through the pages considering your words earlier- how you had set up this room (on such short notice)- with Logan in mind.

He almost felt overwhelmed by how you had done all this in consideration of him- for him. Whatever had made you do it, he wasn't sure but you had looked at this journal and thought of him. It almost made him want to pick up a pen and start writing then and there.

Logan decided that even if you had painted the room bright yellow he'd have made yellow his favourite colour because however you thought of him- and clearly it was very highly- it was the type of man he'd strive to be.

In the few minutes since you had stepped from the room, Logan had heard the distant clatter of pots, pans, and dishes echoing from the kitchen. Now, the chaos had settled down, and instead his ears perked at the familiar, scratchy sound of a vinyl beginning to play.

"Logan!" You called. "Dinner's ready!"

Dropping the book onto the desk, he allowed the sweet sound of music and the mouth-watering aroma of dinner to lead the way. In the dining room, the lights had been dimmed, the table was set as a large dish sat in the middle of the table.

Bathed in the warm light of the lamps surrounding you, Logan swore you shone like his own personal guardian angel. A part of him wanted to fall to his knees before you and relinquish himself to your care. Instead, he shook his head.

"Fuck, that smells good."

Taking off your oven mitts, you smiled.

"Well what are you waiting for?" You asked, pulling out your seat. "Let's eat."

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Anywho this was so fun and so cute to write!! If you'd like to see more roommate!worst!wolverine PLEASE let me know because I have lots of thoughts.

feel free to come chat about any of your favourite mcu characters in the ask box!!

[writeriguess]

Can you write a Dabi x female reader, where reader is Katsuki's sister and in secret relationship with Dabi?? Reader is not a prohero and doesn't have any quirks. Katsuki is sssssuper protective of her and Dabi just lives for it. He throws hints about her and their relationship while fighting Katsuki, but he doesn't catch up, he thinks it's just some nonsense a crazy person would say. This is probs stupid but I'm just... crazy about Katsuki's sister reader x Dabi trope and I wish there was more of it 😩

author's note: Oh I love this scenario and I loved writing this fic <3

Burned in Secret

You’ve spent your whole life in the shadow of someone explosive—your brother, Katsuki Bakugo. It was never easy being the quirkless sibling of a pro-hero, especially not when that hero was the loudest, most aggressive, and most protective person you knew. He had a way of acting like the world was out to get you, like you were made of glass and would shatter if he wasn’t watching. You loved him for it, but at the same time, he didn’t understand that you weren’t some delicate little thing. You could handle yourself.

And, well… you handled yourself right into the arms of the last person Katsuki would ever approve of.

Dabi.

You weren’t exactly sure how it happened. Maybe it was because, in some ways, he was everything your brother wasn’t. Katsuki was all fire and noise; Dabi was quiet destruction. Where Katsuki burned hot and bright, Dabi burned slow and deep, dangerous in a way that sent a thrill through your veins. You met him through circumstances that should’ve never led to romance—he was a villain, after all. But something about his smirks, the way he looked at you like you were something interesting, something real, had you falling before you even realized it. And despite his nonchalant attitude toward most things, you found that he actually cared in his own twisted way.

The relationship was a secret, of course. If Katsuki ever found out, there’d be hell to pay.

Which is exactly why Dabi loved to drop hints.

The battlefield was in ruins, buildings crumbling, smoke filling the air. Katsuki stood in the middle of it all, blood trickling down his forehead, hands still crackling with residual explosions. He was glaring at the man standing across from him, the one whose stitched grin hadn’t wavered once throughout the fight.

“You just don’t shut up, do you?” Katsuki snarled, flexing his fingers like he was resisting the urge to blast him into oblivion.

Dabi smirked. “What can I say? You’re fun to mess with.” He rolled his shoulders, barely fazed by the heat in the air. “Though I gotta admit, you’re a little denser than I expected.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Dabi let out a low chuckle, tilting his head just enough to let his bangs fall into his eyes. “Just thinking about how protective you are. Cute, really.”

Katsuki’s scowl deepened. “Shut the hell up.”

“You act like you can keep everything precious to you locked up tight, but people have secrets, Dynamight.” Dabi’s tongue flicked out over his lower lip, dry and cracked. “People do things in the dark they’d never do in the light. Even the ones closest to you.”

Katsuki barely stopped himself from lunging. “What the fuck are you on about?”

Dabi just grinned, the kind of grin that set Katsuki’s teeth on edge. “Nothing. Just thinking about how funny it’d be if someone close to you was keeping a little something from you. Something big.” He raised his hand, wiggling his fingers as if in thought. “Like, I don’t know… a secret relationship?”

Katsuki froze for half a second before shaking his head violently. “You really are a lunatic. What the fuck are you even talking about?”

Dabi just shrugged. “Just a thought.”

With a snarl, Katsuki launched himself forward, palm sparking. Dabi dodged effortlessly, laughing under his breath as if this was all a game to him. In some ways, it was.

Because he knew the truth.

He knew that the moment this fight was over, he’d find you waiting for him in the shadows, worried and scolding him for teasing your brother. He’d get to hear your voice, feel your hands fussing over his burns even though he told you not to bother. He’d get to be with you, touch you, kiss you. And your precious big brother? The one who thought he had everything under control? He had no idea.

And Dabi lived for it.

Later that night, when you met him in your usual spot, you smacked him lightly on the arm. “You were messing with him again, weren’t you?”

Dabi chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Maybe.”

“You’re going to slip up one day,” you huffed, though your hands still rested against his chest. “And he’s going to actually kill you.”

“I’d like to see him try.” He leaned down, brushing his lips over yours. “Besides, what’s life without a little risk?”

You sighed against his mouth, knowing this was just who he was. Knowing that, despite everything, you wouldn’t change him for the world.

And knowing that when Katsuki finally found out, all hell was going to break loose.

[nicholasluvbot]

FLYING KISSㅤ𓈒ㅤ𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 18-𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋-𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗒.

ㅤㅤ── 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾.

𝒇 ! readerㅤ𖥔ㅤ500ㅤㅤ><ㅤ`ㅤ𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌ㅤ𓈒ㅤ──── cautions 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 ㅤㅤ🍀ㅤㅤ𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖧𝗂𝖵𝖤

woonhak always stretches an arm out on the back of your chair, absentmindedly playing with your hair or tracing circles on your shoulder while pretending not to care. if someone else tries to squeeze in between you, he automatically shifts his chair closer to yours—anything to be near you.

he swears he never gets jealous, but the moment another guy gets a little too close to you, his whole demeanor shifts. "oh, that guy?" he says, unimpressed. "he's like 5'7 on a good day." he tries to act indifferent, but he's noticeably more clingy for the rest of the day, standing closer than usual, his shoulder brushing against yours, making sure you laugh at all of his jokes instead.

if someone talks about asking you out in front of him, he lets out a short, sharp laugh before mumbling, "yeah, good luck with that." and when someone actually flirts with you in front of him, he plays it off with fake nonchalance—jaw tightening, but his voice light and teasing. "oh, so you're cheating on me now?" he tilts his head, wearing an exaggerated look of betrayal.

you shove at his arm playfully. "you are so unserious."

"dead serious," he quips, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you. "but hey, do what you want. just don't come crying to me when you realize no one treats you as well as i do."

he teases you relentlessly but goes completely still when you lean your head on his shoulder. he pretends not to care, staring ahead like it’s no big deal, but you can feel how stiff he gets at first. then, slowly, his body relaxes, and after a while, he even tilts his head to rest against yours.

in class, he flicks your forehead when he catches you zoning out or dozing off, playfully scolding you to pay attention—then immediately following it with a quiet, "you okay?" in a softer voice.

he "accidentally" wins a carnival game and tosses you the stuffed animal casually. "i don’t need it," he says, even though you both know he was trying hard to win. but later, when you’re not looking, he grins to himself, satisfied when he sees you still hugging it hours later.

he always finds an excuse to be at your house, lounging on your couch like it’s his second home. he acts like he's there for the snacks, but really, he just loves being around you, in your space.

he grumbles about how you always make him do things, like helping you carry your stuff or waiting for you after class, but the one time you don’t ask for his help, he frowns. "what, you didn’t need me?" and when you say you didn’t want to bother him, he scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "idiot. it’s not a bother."

it’s so obvious—everyone sees it. he thinks he hides it well, but every so often, when you're laughing, focused, or just doing anything at all, he gets this soft look in his eyes. it only lasts a second before he snaps out of it, clearing his throat and teasing you about something random. but when jaehyun asks, "dude, do you like them or something?" woonhak just scoffs, looking anywhere but at you.

"who wouldn’t?"

‎ ‎     • 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 🗯 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 ───── 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ˆᗜˆ

tags ( boynextdoor ) @coquettejunnie , @hanninova , @chaeneu , @aloe-7 , @en-dream , @rizzkisworld , @cosmicwintr , @mydearyeseo , @ladyaida , @fae-renjun , @slytherinshua , @jjennuine , @kstrucknet , @k-films , @sgz-net

[writingoddess1125]

Mr. and Mrs. Riley pt 2

Once again, I had way too much fun writing this lol, Honestly this has been one of the longest word count stories Ive made!

<< Part 1

Simon 'Ghost' Riley xFemReader

NOTE: Its clearly in the story but just in case this will be almost 12-13 years AFTER COD MW2

WARNING: Angst, Weapons, Deaths (Nothing Major), Fluff

You continued to stand there, messing with your necklace. Biting your lip a bit as you struggle to look at Simon who was still on the other side of the room.

"I really didn't want this to ever happen-"

You manage to mumble out, Simon scoffing a little.

“What that you were apart same bastards I’ve spent years tracking down.”

You exhale sharply, rubbing your temples now. “It was brief, Simon. I left and went to Kortac after realizing what the hell they actually were-”

“Brief or not, you were one of them.” He cuts you off, voice edging dangerously close to anger now. “You wore their goddamn patch, took their orders. Tell me, love- how may war crimes under that belt love?"

You glare at him. “Oh, and I suppose you were some holy fucking saint? You didn’t lie to me for years about what you did? Or even the fuck you are?”

Simon’s expression doesn’t change, but his silence seemed to have spoken for itself.

"Listen- I didn't tell you I am apart of Special Ops or-"

"Oh! You're in the special Ops? Currently!? Not just in the past as that Mask wearing asshole?? Youre currently a MAJOR mask wearing asshole and in special Ops?" You say sharply, Simon closing his eyes at the slip of giving that 'particular' info.

You take a step forward, pointing a finger at him “You said you worked as a low level Cadet in Logistics"

He exhales sharply. “And what would you have done if I had told you? If I came home and said, ‘Hey love, I lead a black ops units, hunt down high-value targets, and wear a goddamn skull mask? Oh wait one of those targets are you?’”

“I should’ve known!” You throw your hands up. “Im Your Wife!”

Simon’s gaze left your face then. “And I would’ve known that you were one of the very people we were fighting. Im your Husband afterall”

...

You swallow hard, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “I left them... Well WELL over a decade ago!”

“But you didn’t tell me.” His voice is quieter now, but no less sharp. “You didn’t tell me who you worked for, what you did, who you might’ve fought against.”

You shake your head, stepping back slightly.

“Why would I? It was long before we even started dating! Youre the one who has been lying to me!”

"Well You lied too so why are you so mad?" He asked casually as if he was trying to sweep this argument away which only made your blood boil.

"I didnt lie to you, I just never brought it up- It wasny important" You scoff, crossing your arms. “And You lied to me first.”

"It doesn't matter who did it first- It was a matter of the gravity-" He shot back just as fast, looking down at you with a scowl on his face as he stood there now shifting a bit closer to you.

You shot him another glare- "Oh? So mine is worse then yours?"

He gave a light shrug and nodded, making you scoff in anger. "Oh really, We are playing this?"

"Yes we are- Fact is I shouldn't find out my Wife is a war criminal after 11 years of marriage"

"Well 'Major' since you do such fantastic work how haven't you figured it out huh? Guess shooting stuff and lying is your strong points instead of anything else hm?-"

You shot at him with a sarcastic smile, clearly aiming at his ego- Which clearly worked by the nasty little glare he shot you.

Gritting his teeth a little he took a steady breath.

"Listen- This is a problem" He gestured to you overall making your jaw drop in anger.

"Is there anyone else that I know who is a 'Former' War Criminals? Cause the fact is clearly I can't tell since you guys are wonderful at lying-"

Simon asked sarcastically clearly trying to take a shot back at yoh, however saw the look on your face and narrowed his eyes.

"...Who-"

"Rozlin.. She was one who moved to Kortec with me" You said softly now not looking at him.

He throws his hands up at hearing this and curses under his breath as he turns away from.

"The God-Mother of our Children- Fan-Fucking-Tastic. Are the women in my life War Criminals?"

"Will you stop calling me that! I wasn't a damn War Criminal you rat bastard!"

He snaps back at you now with what could only be described as a 'I'm about to jump out this god damn window' look to his face.

"Okay Now I clearly gotta know- Why!? Why would you enlist with a terrorist group? Like Fucking Hell, what was it that made you go- Hm this seems like a good idea!"

You sighed heavily now just running your hands over your hair, stressed by all of this.

"I.. I got offered the position by a boyfriend at the time"

You manage out, and swear you can see 20 different emotions go over your husband's face before settling on a blank almost soulless look.

"Oh- So a boyfriend suggested it? Please do tell, did you leave after a bad fight between you two?"

He grumbled out, making you shake your head at the clear just nastiness of his current anger.

"No asshole. He died- and.."

You took a seat on the corner of the bed and shifted your feet with a heavy sigh- Simon still irritated but by the look on his face the guilt was clear...

"Sorry..."

You waved off his apology

"Afterwards I panicked, I thought we were the good guys and afterwards I learned we weren't- I got prepared to jump ship with one of my peers who learned what was taking place.."

You sighed and messed with your necklace again-

"I felt a few weeks after that- And ironically after a encounter with you"

Simon immediately stiffed up at learning this- that anger seemingly almost fully evaporating in seconds, looking to you as his eyes seemed to rapidly scan over your body.

"Wher-"

"Afghanistan" You say calmly, Gesturing to the little knotted scar an your arm. Having looked at it a thousand times but now it made his stomach churn at the realization what it was.

"I.. Shot you?"

"Well.. Back then you didnt know me, Good thing you missed and couldn't find me" You chime trying to lighten that up and look back at him- However Simon had a unreadable look on his face. His hand over his mouth as he seemed to be in a different place.

Seeing how that settled on him.. for one of the few times in your whole marriage you could see his thoughts written on his face- I shot my wife.. Oh my God I shot my wife..

You sigh heavily and reach over grabbing the strings of his sweats to pull him to you gently and plopped him down next to you on the bed.

"Simon.. Its really okay-"

He shakes his head quickly, looking forward still a bit out of it- After that the two of you sat in silence, unsure if it was just the situation at hand or the adrenaline dying down.

Simon finally glanced at you after this period of silence, clearly just trying to figure out what to say.

"So.. What was his name?"

"Vance" You say with a casual shrug, You werent going to tell your husband he had been mainly a guy you kept around just to knock boots with on the regular.

Simon stared at you for a moment before huffing a small laugh under his breath.

"Well who knew dick was apart of your benifits pl..."

He closed his eyes, Knowing immediately he fucked up- He had been trying to make a joke to ease things and knew immediately those words left that was probably the worse thing to possibly ever say. You turning to look at him in fucking rage on your face.

"Thats it-!"

Standing up you grab one of the pillows from the bed and throw it at him which he caught with ease.

"You get to sleep in the office-" You say sharply, As Simon face scrunched up in confusion-

"Not the sofa?"

"No- Office. Rozlin helped us pick that couch so I'm sure Major Simon 'Ghost' Riley wouldn't want to sleep on a couch picked by two war criminals"

You say mocking his voice at the last one, Also tossing him the small throw blanket right at his face.

"Don't forget your knife too asshole-"

You wave in the direction of his tactical knife still on the bed. Simon reached over and yanked the knife off the bed a bit dramatically as he put it back in his holster, Clutching the Pillow and Blanket.

"Lov ya-"

"Love you too"

You both grumble, Not due to actually saying I love you- but clearly just mad in general.

Simon walked out of the room and closed it behind him. Looking up the the ceiling in frustration, rubbing his face as he knew he fucked up with that last little comment. Silently walking to his office to sleep on the floor.

Truthfully it had been a miserable night for both of you...

The next morning the routine had been fairly the same as everyday it had been. However this time you two were still a bit frosty with each other to say the least- if not Simon staring at you a bit more as if trying to figure out something.

By the time Simon had gotten out of the shower and seeing how you had folded them and placed them on his desk instead of their usual spot on the bed. He stared at them for a bit longer then normal, before getting dressed and walking into the kitchen.

Simon stopped as he picked up his cup of coffee which was in the place it always was. Looking to you as you made him and Elijah some breakfast toasties- seemingly having some extra time this morning to do so.

Handing over the two wrapped in foil to him before putting some more on for your son.

You two locked eyes, Before Simon reached to his side and held out a thinned file and placed it in your hands much to your confusion.

"Burn that for me.... afterall you're my wife before anything else"

He said softly, Kissing your forehead as he took his breakfast and coffee with him- leaving you standing there in nothing but shock as you stared at the file in hand and your husband leaving to his car.

He got promoted to the sofa after that-

However Simon really didn't want his stay on the sofa forever which after the first week was starting to seem like the case.

While he wasn't having a blow up fight with you it didn't mean things werent.. Tense-

Snide comments rained free from both of you, small checks for holsters and weapons almost daily- And he even got a knife flown next to his head landing in the drywall when he almost mumbled a certain word equal to a female dog-

It was.. stressful to say the least for both of you-

Simon once again in his work office- Mentally and physically exhausted.. He always had been used to the hard uncomforble beds of the military- he essentially grew up on them. But now he was so used to when he was home being next to you, so the idea of you just being down the hall was making it fucking torture.

He hadn't even gotten to the piles of files thag demanded his attention. Domestic Terrorist attacks, drug moves- It was highly important but he was so mentally spent it might as well be just be bricks he would need to deal with later..

He heard the door open and sat up, prepared for some agent to invade his space.

"Look whit we got here!"

"Fuckin Hell-" He grumbled, Seeing Johnny 'Soap' Fucking-MacTavish walking damn near strutting in. Simon Leaning back in his seat as the scott smiled and plopped himself on one of the chairs across from him.

"Johnny not today-"

"Aww work got ye in a shit mood?"

Johnny was one of the few who knew of you or the kids for that matter. He had needed witnesses for his elopement anyway and Johnny was trustworthy- paired for when he was in town a easy babysitter.

Even if he was a pain in his ass- He grumbled under his breath, rubbing his neck which was a bit sore from the arm of the sofa.

"No.. Sleeping on the damn sofa-"

"Awww fucked up bad huh?-" Johnny chuckled which earned him a nasty glare from the masked man.

"How long have you been banished for?"

"...1 Day on the Office Floor and 9 days on the couch" Simon grumbled, crossing his arms as he looked to his desk. Johnny Hissing in shock at hearing this-

"Damn- You truly fucked up" Johnny said with a chuckle, smiling like the devil as he leaned back in his seat.

"Wad ya do?"

"Nothing that concerns you-" He grumbled out, earning a chuckle from Johnny who sat up to lean on his palm.

"Well if ya don't tell me how am I gonna help ya mate?"

Simon looked to Johnny, while the scott couldn't see it from his mask Simon was biting his inner cheek in thought.

"A bad situation on all fronts.. and my smart comments didn't exactly assist in that either.. and now it's a God damn battlefield-"

Johnny raised a brow at this, knowing that even with what little info he had this wasn't good. At All.

"Hm.. Start with the classics then- cooking a dinner together, some candles some nice words to smooth it over?"

Simon shook his head no immediately at that. He could see that going wrong really fucking quick- A enclosed space, knives, possible fire discussing a heavy topic with a lot of emotions?

Yeah fuck that-

"No no- Nothing with... Sharp knives.. Or fire for that matter"

Johnny gave him a bit of a wide eyed look, clearly having questions but not brave enough to ask him.

"Okay? Uh Fancy Resturant? Why not Bocca di Lupo? You took her there for ya guys 10 year anniversary right? Familiar space, Romantic atmosphere?"

Simon thought for a moment, nodding that it was a fairly good idea- even if his pockets hurt at just hearing the Resturants name again.. He remembered nearly popping a blood vessel when he paid 27£ for a beer.. a shit beer at that.

"That should work.."

He grumbled, before narrowed his eyes at the male and sighed heavily- He knew Johnny, and he knew this wasn't for free..

"..What do I owe for this?"

Johnny gave a cheeky grin.

"Depends- Need a babysitter?"

-

Simon ♡: 'I want to take you to dinner tonight, It will be nice, Dress Up'

You'd raised a brow at the text, apprehensive and worried however decided not to argue it.

You were fortunate enough to know that your darling husband wasn't the best with Text so this wasn't rude either.

Just him-

Setting up bottles for Lily and silently wandering what was planned- However decided to just go with it.

Afterall couldn't be any worse then how things are now..

The day did seem to fly by however not peacefully, Lily having decided that today she wanted to remind you how much a 11 month old can rain terror.

Aka it seemed she wanted only her Dad that day so just- Fuck You I guess.

Which lead to a lot of trying, Lily finally falling asleep crying- Then waking up..

To More fucking crying.

When Simon got home with Elijah your son running up to you while you stood there holding a still sobbing Lily as he showed you the lasted- everything from his classes.

"Look Mummy! We gotta do a assignment on our parents! Will you help?"

"Yes of course Baby" You say softly, trying to remain as sweet as possible as one child screamed in your ear and the other decided to want to show you ever peice of paper that has ever been printed.

"Alright Lad. Go shower, get your homework out and take a seat at the table" Simon gruffed out, Elijah nodding as he ran off to do as asked.

"Well don't you look like a joy-" Simon said as he stared at you, You making sure to cut him a nasty ass look as you hand your daughter over to him.

"She has decided you are the one of the day. Seems she has terrible taste once more" Simon held Lily who leaned into him immediately calming down-

"Hey Least one of the women in this house like me-" He said softly. You rub your face a bit, clearly exhausted.

"You said you wanted to go out?"

"Yeah we are gon'a head to Bocca di Lupo for dinner.."

You look to him confused, Bocca di Lupo? You knew he hated that place, It had been one of a funniest anniversaries for you when the two of you stepped foot in that place- Remembering seeing how he seemed like a bull in a China shop looking around the place, trying to figure out why he was getting one bite of food per plate and asking the waiter why was he being served decorations on a plate then food-

You had died laughing the whole time and seeing it all in a very fond light- "Are you sure?- Last time we went you got McDonald's on the way to the Anniversary suite"

"We aren't talking about the Maccies thing- I feel like a space outside of the house were we can.. talk I suppose is nice-"

You raise a brow hearing how this seemed a bit rehearsed, but shrugged-

"Okay"

"Good.. The reservation isn't for a few hours, so you can take a bath or- whatever.. I'll watch the kids for the time being"

He saw the way your face softened, looking at him both greatful and suspicious. "Thank you, That sounds really nice actually"

He nodded, a bit awkwardly as you walked off to go take a bath anf unwind.

Simon silently thanked Johnny for giving him this script and convincing him to make the reservation for later that evening. Looking to Lily in his arms as she stared up at him-

"Let's see if this works eh Sweet Girl?"

After a admittedly heavenly bath and a short power nap. You got ready for this evening out.

Stepping out of the bedroom in your nice black dress as you put on earrings and nice heels. Hearing the front door slam open.

"Looking Lovely as ever Bonnie" You see Johnny in the livingroom- Also holding Lily as she seemed while not as happy, at least not screaming her head off, as Elijah was there eating what seemed to be pizza and chicken dippers.

"Hey Johnny, Simon has you as the babysitter?" You chuckle as you walk all the way out to the livingroom.

"Well ya know, always wanna help a Mate out of course!" He said cheerfully, Simon was at the dining room table seemingly patiently waiting to enter the bedroom to grab his nice clothes.

"I'm sure-" You say softly, Adjusting your dress a bit. Before looking yo Johnny calmly as he snagged some chicken dippers himself, now having grown suspicious of the man himself as he had always been a 'friend' from the military.

It didn't take long for Simon to come back out dressed in his nice dress pants and white button up, Shifting a bit as he always had some problems with formal wear.

"Ah look at ya! You almost clean up nice" Johnny chimed, earning a glare from Simon and a chuckle from you.

"Don't wait up Johnny-"

He grumbled out, After some quick goodbyes to the kids and you swore you saw Simon snag a slice, you both headed to his car-

This leading to possibilities the most awkward car ride of your guys lives, it had been almost dead silent- as if you two didn't know how to even start a conversation.

Taking a soft breath you reach over to turn on the radio-

Before Careless Whisper blasted through the car.

...

You two sit there, Simon silently driving but you swore you saw him blink one eye then the other like he was seconds away from losing it. You also closing your eyes as you collected yourself mentally.

You turn the radio back off.. Silence filling the car once again.

It was almost an hour to the resturant like this, Simon paying for parking once you two arrived.

Looking at the overly stuffy resturant ahead of you.

It would be funny how the two of you seemed to loath having to enter the place.

You took his arm and leaned to his side like how you two had walked in here before to try and seem normal- Till you felt it.. A clear handle on his side, Looking up at him with a glare.

Simon wrapped a arm around you quickly as well- He already felt the holster under your dress as he leaned into your ear.

"You leave yours in the car I'll leave mine.."

He said lowly, You narrowed your eyes at him before nodding in agreement. Both of you going back to respective sides of the car and taking off the hidden holsters- Simon pulling out a massive fucking knife that made your blood boil- Before you pulled out a small Pistol.

He stared at you in disbelief when you set the gun under the passenger seat.

"You were gonna shoot me!?"

"They are non-lethal bullets! Im not gonna murder the father of my children" You Hiss back as you point to the massive Rambo blade in his hand.

"What about that- It's literally the size of my damn head" You point back to him.

"I would have clipped your arm or something- Nothing of true damage"

"Oh wanna make sure I match the other shoulder?" You hiss, You see the way he gritted his teeth as he stashed the knife under his seat.

This leading the two of you to rather angrily march to the restaurant. The two of you sit at the very nice table in dead silence... It was painfully tense.

So bad that other tables were seemingly just as tense.

Simon scowling while sipping the 27£ Beer that tasted like honey piss and you barely tasted the far too bitter wine.

Only snapping out of the painfully angry silence when the waiter came back over.

"Are you two ready to order?"

"Just uh.. A few more minutes please?" Simon said softly, the overly stuffy waiter leaving with a curt nod before walking off.

....

You look to Simon and give a gentle sigh.

"Simon.. This feels, Well very- Tense. Do you want to go back to the house.."

"Fuck No.." He grumbled, You narrow your eyes at your husband unsure if he was being rude or simply upset over this all.

"Do you seriously want to have this kind of talk here?" You whisper.

Simon leaned his face on his palm as he gave a soft smirk "Safer then at home- it seems.. Or in the car with the gun"

You pick up the steak knife and point it at him in a silent threat which he narrows his eyes at you in a silent- I fucking dare you.

However Simon suddently stopped, looking towards the front of the resturant as he seened to be scanning- His eyes narrowing. You look to him confused as something seemed to have his interest- His eyes widen suddently.

"Down!-"

Simon reached for you as it felt like the world slowed down for a second- Seeing a flash of light at what used to be the front door as Simon grabbed you hard and yanked you to the floor.

A yelp leaving you as Simon shielded you with his body fast, a rain of glass and wood seemingly raining down.

Loud explosion hitting your ears that make your ears rings and dizzy. God the memories of this before coming back in full swing- 'Why did I ever do this shit again?..'

Simon pulled up as you stared down at your dazed face with concern, his hand going to you cheek to look you over.

"You alright?" He ask, his eyes wide as you give a shaky nod.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine" You say softly, Hearing the sound of gunfire and shouts for everyone to get down.

You sat up quickly and the two of you hid behind the broken furniture- Hearing patrons scream as they were herded like cattle.

Simon closed his eyes as he thought back to one of the files on his desk 'Domestic Terrorist' Fan-Fucking-tastic... and this defiantly would be a good spot- bunch of rich fucks in a flashy spot?.. Yeah.

He turned ready to tell you to run and hide elsewhere however saw you not far off, Your gaze focused as you seemed to be scouting out what was there- That dazed look of your gone.. It was focused, trained as you looked around.

He silently moves closer to you keeping an eye out.

"What are you doing?" He grumbled, feeling ready to snap and yank you to the nearest exit but you point instead.

"Hostages, This isn't to kill" You mumble pointing forward- Simon following your gaze and seeing the exact same pattern as you-

'This is to buy time- so something bigger was elsewhere'

"We looking at 11?" Simon hummed softly, you glancing to the side-

"Bakers dozen-" You whisper pointing to the right showing the addional two.

He nods and motions the two of you forward. Simon gesturing for you to move to the side to hide while he handled this. Grabbing a spare balaclava he usually kept in his pockets as he slipped it on.

You sent him a glare as you grabbed a medical face mask you uses during cold and flu season from your purse and put it on and taking off your heels and holding them.

"This is dangerous, Go hide-"

He hissed out and pointed to the side.

"Kiss my ass-"

Simon equally glared at you, Till the sound of footsteps approached and he spun around-

Seeing one of the mercs turning to look for other hostages as he was turned with his back to him Simon was quick to grab the man and slam him to the ground. Covering his mouth, as he was was fast to snap his neck to silence them.

Quickly you grabbed the dead man's gun a X16 and check the ammo.

That's when you heard that so welcomed scream near by of one of the women who had been seated near your table making a run for it- Catching the attention of the men who came in your direction to catch the idiot.

"Shit" "Shit..." You both say in unison-

"See if he has any hand to hand weapons- I work better with those" You manage to say to Simon as both of you fast to take cover as you hear the group fast to approach.

"See this is what I fucking mean..." Simon muttered clearly not expecting you to hear him as he searched the body more which came up empty.

"What do you mean?"

You ask anf load a magazine as you were behind the thickened table looking to your husband not far from you-

"Feels like I turn around and just- Boom another reminder my wife is keeping deadly ass secrets from me"

"It wasn't a matter of wanting to keep secrets, It was the fact that I didn't see that as a part of my life anymore after I left"

"To your left-" Simon said calmly as you aimed and shot the soldiers in the head coming around the corner fast.

This alerting of your guys presents as now gunfire could be heard coming towards the two of you, you quickly sliding your gun to Simon as you knew he was a better shot, while picking up a steak knife.

"Well it just sort of feel like I got blindsided is all- I mean even without knowing it could have still put us all in danger"

He stressed, Moving from his position forward quickly and reached over grabbing another armored male who had rushed towards them and shooting him in the back as he tossed his body to the side and went back to cover.

After another rushed over with a Automatic and starting to fire rapidly- Clearly burning through his ammo as the two of you waited for the reload.

"I understand where you're coming from Darling- and im sorry for not at least giving some sort of heads up about it.. Its just difficult"

You relent as you grab a fancy dressed man cowering near you and drag him to safety off to the side by his collar. As you saw the soilder who was walking closer reloading his automatic as fast as he could clearly not spotting you- you pounced, sinking the steak knife into the back of his neck making sure you heard the crack- He fell silently as you caught him and laid him down to the ground.

"Truthfully I really did think I was with the good guys- I mean come on there are a lot of registered soldiers that were apart of that at the time. I just thought I was one of them"

Simon thought for a second and nodded, seeing your perspective at that. Watching as you savaged the man's body for ammo and other useful weapons.

"Fair point actually"

Pulling up some more magazines and getting them to Simon as you saw nothing of use, few med kits, a couple of shit knives-

'God they got such bullshit stuff..'

"I do also want to talk about you lying about the rank however. Why didn't you want to tell me?"

Simon rolled his eyes a bit, Pausing for a second as he waited for his next target.

"It was dangerous and I know I shouldn't have lied about it- However I was worried you would have freaked out when we had first started dating and I just never wanted to bring that back up.. and Im sorry"

He admitted, Looking back at you with regret- Your eyes softening as you saw the remorse.

"Listen I wouldn't have cared about who you are or even your position- I would have supported you either way"

Simon mumbled as the two quietly crept through the resturant- Hearing the sound of several of the men clearly looking for the two of you.

"I know- I just didn't want to pull you guys into that life, I figured if I didn't speak about it. Then you guys aren't involved"

Simon turned the corner as he went to shoot one of the men in the back of the head, however it jammed and he instead dragged the man down with him covering his mouth as he looked back at you, You staring back at him.

"So- Ironically we were doing the same thing in different directions"

"Guess so"

The man in Simon's arms looking both terrified and utterly confused as Simon easily restrained him.

"I don't like that our relationship started out on secrets and lies- Fact is, we haven't in almost 11 years of being married even scratched the surface of our early lives" You whisper low- Seeming the way Simon face seemed to twitch at the mention of early life.

You hand Simon the steak knife as he sighed sinking the knife into the guys neck while keeping the males mouth covered still and tossing him to the ground lazily.

"Your right.. I think we just got so-" He tried to think of the word-

"Secure?"

"That's the word Thank you. Secure in not addressing it, it let this type of thing take place"

You nod in agreement at this. Hearing the sound of vans and other shouts from outside the Restaurant.

Simon saw that the authorities and one of his teams were arriving, glancing back at you as he gestures to the closest exit to sneak out of. Which you two quietly and quickly do, managing out by what seemed to be a Alley most likely for employees.

You smile from under your mask quickly slipping it off and set your heels back down and slipped them back on before leaning against the brick walls, a clearly winded and fanning yourself some.

"Little winded there love?" You could hear Simon joke a bit, earning a side glare from you.

"Hey- it's been well over a decade and two kids since I last did that shit. Give me some slack okay?"

The two of you giggle at this, Simon also rolling his shoulder a bit. While active still it had been a hot minute since he was down in the trenches like that.

"Listen- I'm sorry.. I shouldn't have assumed the worse and should have been.. more honest" Simon finally said looking to you.

"Im sorry too, I should have also been more honest and open about everything. Maybe after this, and with some time we can start to just unravel our- admittedly probably fucked up past?" He nodded in agreement, Glancing from the side of the Alley seeing how the remaining terrorist were already being handled in some way.

Glancing around as he gestured to the car still in the paid parking spot as he silently moved the two of you over to it.

Once to the car the two of you look to each other, Simon placing a hand on your hip as he looks at you softly. "I love you okay?.. I dont want stupid shit like this to affect out marriage"

Your eyes soften at this, and you place a gentle kiss on his masked lips.

"I love you too Darling, and I promise no matter what we will always handle things together. Team Mr and Mrs Riley forever"

"Thats stupid as hell" He grumbled making you laugh. He heard his phone go off as he pulled it from his back pocket, seeing ironically his job requesting him at the resturant.

"Fuck-"

He grumbled, you giggling at this.

"Oh the irony- Also let's get your hoodie from the back" You say softly as you pat his chest, Breaking the hold the two of you shared. Simon about to question why till he looked down at his white button shirt seeing it covered in a nice bit of blood.

"Damn.. This was expensive"

"This is why you wear black Darling-" You joke as you gesture to yourself still in your pretty black dress going to the trunk to grab the hoodie he kept in the trunk from the last hiking trip he took- also finding his sweats and his running shoes.

"Also good thing you didn't take these out of the car liked I asked- so they could be washed" You also shot at him, He playfully opened his arms at you as if showing his bloodied self off.

"My vices at times come to be blessings"

Walking back with a shake of your head and hand him the clothes, which he quickly changes into and tosses the bloody dress clothes into the trunk.

"Now- You go be Major Ghost okay. I'll see Simon back at the house" You say softly, You could see Smile through his mask as he nodded.

"And is Simon back allowed in the bedroom?"

He asked, Hopeful. You caress his cheek at this.

"You are more then welcome Darling, and possibly extra"

The second those words came out of your mouth you could possibly see the excited twinkle in Simon's eyes, As he carefully escorted you to the car with a firm hand on your lower back.

"I'll hold you to that, Now please get home safely Lov"

You had to snort back a laugh at this as you placed a kiss on his covered cheek.

"You be safe, I'll see you at home"

Getting into the car you started your way back off. Simon taking a moment to watch you drive off, before he silently do a fist pump to himself in silent celebration- turning onto his heel at the chaos of gun fire and more on the overly expensive restaurant he wasn't sad to see gone.

He had never walked into a Domestic Terrorist scene so damn happy before.

Tag List-

@itsmeamysworld @danielle143 @mileyraes

[writing-for-marvel]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Literally took the words out of my mouth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eeeee they make me giddy 🥰🥰🥰

“Nope. This is my spot, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

Oh she takes his advice 🥺🥺🥺

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Things were finally starting to look up.

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

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

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

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

time after time [2]

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

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 8.2k

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

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

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

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

two: twice upon a time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But where else would you have gone?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Really, you should’ve expected the test.

You closed your eyes and raised your hands.

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

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

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

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

Natasha smirked. “Not bad. First try?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

Your initial reaction is relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life everlasting.

No. Definitely not like this.

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet white teenage angst not your style?”

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

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

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

You raise your hands experimentally.

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

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

You avert your burning eyes from Sam’s gaze.

It’s not like you … talk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is up with you today?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

“You look like shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

You need to be rational about this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not enough to fall asleep, though.

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

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

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

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

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

“She doesn’t like you any better.”

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

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

“You’re in her spot.”

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

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

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

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

“Nope. This is my spot, too.”

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

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

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

“Thirteen twelve hours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes fly open and you gasp for air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not what I expected.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s it to you?” you snap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Third time’s the charm, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shouldn’t he insist on leaving?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only you told him not to throw the shield.

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

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

“Okay, alright, turn it off, FRIDAY!”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m serious.”

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

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

It gives you an idea for the future.

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

“Uhm. What?”

“Do you have like, two minutes?”

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

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

Sam chuckles.

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

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

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

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

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

“You’re in her spot.”

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

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

You blink at him. You did.

You feel his expectant glare on you and sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky doesn’t reply.

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

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

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

“What are you watching?” you ask.

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

You can’t help your reaction.

“Why’d you just do that?” Bucky says.

You stare at the ceiling. “Do what?”

“You flinched.”

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

“Why won’t you look at me?”

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

You drop your gaze and shake your head.

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

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird. And invasive.”

“It’s invasive to look at you?”

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

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

“Tell me.”

“I don’t have anything to tell you!”

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

Your stomach plummets.

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

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

Your book is lying in the wrong place.

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Di’ I faind?”

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

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

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

“Thangs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were safe here.

Things were finally starting to look up.

chapter three

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

[boybandbaby]

I’ll Be Alright (Evan Buckley x SingleMom!Reader)

911 Masterlist (other SingleMom!Reader fics)

summary: Buck gets hurt on a call. Evie is scared of hospitals but Buck helps her through it.

word count: 1457

warnings/tags: injury due to fire, child panic attack, mention of parent/grandparent death, as always if I missed anything lmk

note: new chapters for my series The Sweet Escape are on hold for a bit as I’ve come to a writer’s block. I have an idea for the next three chapters but I just gotta get to writing. For now, here’s more SingleMom!reader x Buck

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Evie knew something was wrong when you picked up her and the passenger seat was empty. She had spoken to Buck through a mouthful of fruity pebbles about how excited she was to see him today.

Buck had promised her a trip to McDonald’s to start the weekend off. She was young but not young enough to notice when her mother was sad or scared. As she climbed into the back seat, backpack slinging alongside her and hitting the back of her calves, she clocked the silence from the radio. Another sign that something was wrong.

“Hi baby, how was school?” You ask. It comes out quiet and cautious.

“Mommy, what’s wrong? Where’s Buck?” She buckles herself in. “Did you guys break up?”

“No!” You screech, then chuckle all watery. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is?” She pouts.

“Hold on alright?” You pull the car out of the pick up line and park in a nearby grocery store parking lot. She watches as you turn the engine off, get out of the car and make your way to her door. “I don’t want you to worry, okay?”

You kneel slightly beside her, hands holding hers. “Baby, Buck got hurt while at work today. He’s in the hospital right now.”

“Oh…” She looks down to your intertwined hands.

“He’s okay, he just needs a lot of rest.”

Bobby had called you sometime in the morning that Buck was taken to a hospital due to a piece of roof falling on him and breaking his right shoulder and partially hitting his head. Luckily, his gear kept his head semi-safe (a small concussion but not visible damage) and there was no burns.

You watch with concern as her face becomes stoic and her hand clench in yours.

“Evie? Evie!” You shake her shoulders gently. Her chest is rapidly rising and falling and her eyes fill with tears.

She breaks from her trance at your raised voice. “I want to go home.”

The car ride is silent as you make your way home. You peek in the rearview at every stop sign or red light to see her staring straight ahead. Her eyes look hollow and she makes no attempts to wipe the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Last time Evie saw someone she loved in a hospital bed was when her grandpa (her father’s dad) died. He had requested to see her and shortly after he had passed. When she came back from the cafeteria with you, he was covered with a sheet and pronounced dead already. You realized maybe she was too young and took her home.

When you get home, she heads straight for her room, asking if she can take a nap. You get down to your knees and open your arms for her. She wraps her arms around your neck and cries into your shoulder.

“Buck is so strong, remember? He’s going to be totally fine babe. I know it’s scary to hear.”

“When can he come home?” She squeaks through her sniffles. It’s cute to hear her ask when he’s coming “home” considering he doesn’t actually live with you, yet at least.

“Not sure yet. I’m waiting for Bobby to call me. Go take a nap and I’ll wake you in time for dinner.” She nods and gives you a kiss to your cheek before taking her nap.

Two hours later, she’s still sleeping when you sit at the edge of her bed. “Hey, I just spoke with Bobby. He says Buck is awake and wants to see us.”

“Do I have to go to the hospital?”

“Not if you don’t want to. Maybe we can see if Eddie will FaceTime with us? Is that okay?”

“I don’t want to see him.” She wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Can I wait here while you go?”

“Who’s gonna watch you, silly?”

“I’m old enough, I’m almost 10.”

“What if you wait with Bobby in the waiting room? How does that sound?” She nods, relenting.

Once you get to the hospital, you immediately find the 118 in the waiting room.

“You stay here and listen to Bobby okay? Here’s 5 dollars to get something from the vending machine.” You give her a kiss on her forehead as Bobby holds a hand out for her.

“Alright kid, let’s go see what we’re working with.” She hands him the money, then takes his hand.

You make your way down the hall, guided by a nurse who knocks on Buck’s door. You creep inside and thank the nurse.

“Hi handsome, how are you feeling?” You sit beside him on the bed, kissing his forehead.

“Like shit. I’m glad you’re here though. Where’s our girl?” He furrows his brows.

“She sends her love but she doesn’t want to see you.” You hold his hand and run your thumbs along his knuckles.

“Is she upset with me for not being there to pick her up?” He pouts.

You snort before affirming, “It’s not you.” You sigh, beginning to explain why you believe she is acting the way she is.

“I see.” He nods, “where is she now?”

“She’s with Bobby in the waiting area.”

Buck begins to get up from the bed. “Stop. You need to rest. You have a concussion, Buck.”

“My legs work just fine.” He sasses.

“You’re on pain medication right now. You need to take it easy.”

“Fine, can you get my nurse for me?”

“Buck, you better stay in this bed, I’m so serious.” You warn.

“I am, I am. My call button is not working.”

“Right…” you roll your eyes but oblige him. You’re barely down the hallway when you see him escaping his room. With a shake of your head, you turn back around to follow him out to the waiting area.

Evie sees him just as he’s passing the authorized personnel door. She cowers against Bobby’s shoulder, in her chair. She just turned 9 but she’s still your baby and she acts as such.

“Hey, no need to be scared. It’s just me.” Buck gently whispers, kneeling in front of her. He ahhhs at the aches in his body as his undamaged hand reaches out for Evie.

“Evie, look, I’m totally fine. Just a little scratch, nothing major.”

She refuses to look at him, Bobby’s arm shielding her from her fears.

“I know I have a scary job sometimes. I can’t promise that I won’t get hurt again, but I promise I will try to keep myself safe enough to always come back to you and mommy.”

She shakes her head, a mix of tears and chocolate smearing against Bobby’s shirt.

“Here, give me your hand.” Buck lays his hand out, palm up. “This is my cast and sling. They’ll help me heal.” He guides her hand over the cast decorating his arm.

“How long will you have to wear it?” She gently cries, eyes screwed shut still but open to talking about it.

“Just a few weeks. But do you know what that means?”

“What?” She opens one eye and squints at him.

“I can’t work and I’ll get to spend so much time with you and mommy.” He sings, “That means we can do so many activities together.”

“This is the first time I’ve seen Buck not jumping to get back into action.” Bobby whispers to you. You chuckle and watch as Evie nods to something Buck says. She hops off of the chair and holds onto Buck’s hand.

“Where are you going now?” You scold Buck.

“We’re going back to my room, nurse.” He jokes. “You coming?”

You nod and thank Bobby for watching her.

“Don’t let him annoy you too much during his recovery period.” Bobby laughs.

Evie snuggles with Buck in his bed as they watch Full House on the small tv. Buck scoots over to make room for you. You opt to stay seated in a chair to prevent any strain on his arm.

“You’re going to come stay with us.” You tell him. “Evie and I will take care of you. Isn’t that right babe?”

She nods sleepily as she holds the box of juice Buck gave her.

“When can you be discharged?”

“Tonight if I want.” He shrugs.

“I’ll go talk to the nurse, get your papers signed. You two behave.”

“No promises.” Buck smiles, leaning into the kiss you place on his cheek.

“Mommy? Can you bring us more jello and juice cups?”

“Bring me a lime one please?” Buck gives his best puppy eyes.

“I want orange.” Evie whispers.

“Oh, and an orange one.” He smirks.

“Fine, fine. Orange and lime coming right up.” You playfully sigh, rolling your eyes. These next few weeks should be very interesting.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

[harrysgal]

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (10)

harry styles x yn aspiring filmmaker — social media AU

About the smau: yn starts posting videos on youtube and is trying to build a career as a filmmaker. Things are going pretty well for her and she starts getting more attention when she creates content about shows she goes to. She’s also a fan of Harry’s music and some of his fans start getting suspicious when his team starts interacting with her.

Disclaimer: The story it’s set in 2021 and it will follow their relationship through the LOT leg in the US. Since this is nothing but fiction, I will be following some of the real timeline but also adding my own stuff. On top of that, I won’t be basing myself on Harry’s actual posts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART 9 // MASTERLIST

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (PART 10) — NASHVILLE

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liked by bestfriend, harryfan15, gemmastyles and 706,789 others

harrystyles Love On Tour. Chicago, IL. 

View all 75,678 comments  harryfan39 EXCUSE ME??? SIR?????? harryfan235 🥵🥵🥵 harryfan991 I WAS WAITING FOR A CHICAGO POST  BUT DAMN I WAS NOT WAITING FOR THIS  harryfan75 this is hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot harryfan73 did harry basically left the stage in nashville and thought “shit i forgot to post about chicago”? lol

↳ harryfan77 let’s give him a break he was busy in Chicago 🤭 ↳ harryfan73 oh yeah thats right. yn kept him busy.

harryfan29 sooooo…. is there any chance yn took these? lol

↳ harryfan28 is there any chance you people can at least for once acknowledge Anthony’s job? you talk as if he didn’t even exist is so freaking disrespectful to his own talent and experience  ↳ harryfan29 …. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful to Anthony it was just a joke  ↳ harryfan28 well then be more careful about the things you joke about 

harryfan70 😮‍💨 thank God we have Anthony !  harryfan123 SHOW WAS SO GOOD TONIGHT  harryfan99 come back pls Chicago already misses you :(  harryfan192 boy you look fine 😮‍💨 harryfan1 where is yn i need to know if she was around when this happened

↳ harryfan35 don’t worry I bet she was  ↳ harryfan43 yeah! probably is there after tonight’s show as well 😌 ↳ harryfan1 LMAO guys nooooooo ↳ harryfan1 i asked because i need to know if she got to film this moment so i can ask for the footage!! was thinking about ME not her LMAOOOO  ↳ harryfan3 AHHHHH  ↳ harryfan3 GOOD THINKING YES  ↳ harryfan3 i need a movie of harry taking a bath in my desk by tomorrow pls ↳ harryfan53 ＠yourinstagram please !!!! ↳ harryfan98 FINALLY!!! 😭 people need to understand that i want her to follow him around 24/7 bc i want her to film him 24/7 that’s all!!! idgaf if they’re dating or not!!!!

harryfan96 harry are you ok? blink if you need help ! we are here for you !! we love you !!  harryfan345 THANK YOU ANTHONY 🙏 real ones know who the real one is

Sep 29, 2021 • 

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liked by harrystyles, bestfriend, annetwist, and 91,819 others

yourinstagram I wasn’t sure whether to bring up my mom’s birthday or not, but I just hung up the phone with her for the fourth time today, and I realized I couldn’t go to bed without shouting to the world how much I love her. The woman who started everything for me. My existence, my passion for filming, and even my career. I wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t carried me for 9 months in her belly, but I also wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t loved & supported me through all these years, if she hadn’t encouraged all my dreams, or if she hadn’t so excitedly agreed to let me film her during such a vulnerable moment and then share it on a YouTube channel for strangers to watch. It is only fitting that her video was the one that changed my life, and maybe that’s why it has been so hard to stay away today. It’s not the first time we spent a celebration apart from each other, but it is definitely the time I miss her the most. 

So at the end of the day, this isn’t a post to say happy birthday to my mom, because I’ve said it (and sung it) to her multiple times today. But it is a post to let everyone know that I think my mom is the best mom in the world, that I admire her, and that she inspires me everyday. 

And whilst there are a lot of things that I want to keep private about me and my personal life, the love I have for her will never be one of them. ❤️

view all 8,118 comments  bestfriend you have me in tears ❤️  bestfriend btw I called her this afternoon and we spent 20 minutes gushing about you 

↳ yourinstagram yeah ↳ yourinstagram I’ve heard all about it already  ↳ bestfriend really? ALL about it? 👀  ↳ yourinstagram 🙄 ↳ bestfriend hahaha ooooops!  ↳ harryfan3 hi! hello! please let me in!! ↳ harryfan9 ohhh now I’m curious!! loll what did you talk about?  ↳ harryfan7 for real tho 😩 

user25 👏👏 very well written! You’re very lucky to have such a positive connection with your mother, and she’s very lucky to have a daughter that appreciates her. Happy birthday to your mom, and lots of love to you both!

↳ yourinstagram thank you! ❤️ I feel very lucky, indeed!

user1 ahh, i still go back to that video from time to time! love it so much! it isn’t the one that started everything for me, but im proud to say i was already here to see how it changed your life. crazy to think how different things are now! but im happy to see that you have such a beautiful support system to get you through all this madness! im sure your mom is amazing, because she raised an amazing daughter! <3

↳ yourinstagram thank you for being here all along ❤️ it really means a lot!

harryfan5 these pictures!! AGHHH! SO PRETTY! and so aesthetically pleasing!! 

↳ yourinstagram right? always thought she had the coolest pictures, and im pretty sure thats what pushed me into this path haha thanks, Emma! ❤️ ↳ harryfan9 !!!!!!! girlllllll  ↳ ynharryenthusiast not the “Emma” at the end 😭 ↳ harryfan5 😭😭😭 ILYSM

harryfan60 am I the only who saw Harry calling yn out during the show tonight? the man had to ask a million times for her to film the gender reveal LMAO harryfan60 imagine your boss not trusting you do to your job I’D FOLD user5 What a beautiful, emotional post! harryfan22 now that you proved you know how to properly spell words why don’t you stop writing so many stupid captions?  annetwist Happy birthday to your mum! ❤️ harryfan11 yn interacting with us????? did we go back in time??

↳ user2 lol tell me about it! I miss the old times every time she posts now ↳ user13 yeah :( then the trolls arrived and once again ruined all the fun  ↳ harryfan17 istg these people can’t even respect her mother’s birthday…  ↳ harryfan19 it blows my mind bc yn didn’t give them ONE SINGLE REASON for them to act like this!! AT ALL!!!

harryfan45 ＠HARRYSTYLES YOU KNOW WE CAN SEE YOU, RIGHT? 🤨 

↳ harryfan45 why don’t you just follow her? lol ＠harrystyles  ↳ harryfan44 because he doesn’t want to ↳ harryfan45 boohooo!! and yet here he is liking her post anyway, isn’t heeee  ↳ harryfan44 how do you know it’s him? it could be anyone behind his account ↳ harryfan45 sure thing hunnnn 😚

lookitsnyoh 🦥❤️

↳ paulithepsm 🦥❤️ ↳ pillowpersonpp 🦥❤️ ↳ mitchrowland 🦥❤️ ↳ _basselin 🦥❤️ ↳ glenne_azoff 🦥❤️ ↳ jefezoff 🦥❤️ ↳ mollyjane_x 🦥❤️ ↳ harryfan3 i loveeeee when they do this!!! ↳ harryfan15 i want to be part of this toooooooo 🦥❤️ ↳ harryfan9 all here but harry guys? did you forget to let him in? LOLLL 

harryfan44 How does your mom feel about your latest post? Bet she wouldn’t be proud of you as her daughter if she saw it ! Bet she’s embarrassed of you ! 

↳ harryfan5 omg wtf???? this is so disrespectful??? ↳ harryfan44 Yn was the disrespectful one when she mentioned the o word! ↳ user14 the “o word”? lmao how old are you?  ↳ harryfan27 wait whats the o word?  ↳ harryfan25 orgasm? i think? ↳ harryfan27 HAHAHAHA  ↳ user16 i have a theory that if you’re not comfortable enough to say the word orgasm then you’re not old enough to be online interacting with +25yo  ↳ harryfan27 orgasm ↳ harryfan27 orgasm orgasm orgasm orgasm orgasm orgasm orgasm orgasm orgasm  ↳ harryfan29 orgasm!!! ↳ harryfan31 🤣  ↳ harryfan27 orgasm  ↳ harryfan27 orgasm orgasm  ↳ harryfan11 ORGASM!!!  ↳ bestfriend orgasm ↳ bestfriend also, please fuck the fuck off  ↳ bestfriend 🖕

Sep 29, 2021 • 

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liked by someone and 203,154 others 

popgossip HELLO LITTLE ONES! DID YOU MISS ME? POPGOSSIP AT YOUR SERVICE AGAIN! 

Hours ago I was gifted by a follower with a one-time only opportunity to get back into business, so I immediately reached out to my favorite human (that shall forever remain anonymous to you) and gathered some fresh and exclusive info for you. 

And as you’ll see, I am not only coming back after the longest state of hibernation, but I am also coming back with the yummiest popstar of them all: HARRY STYLES! 😍🤤

YES, YES, YES! THAT’S RIGHT! For once I got to play detective in a story involving him, the one and only, Harry Styles!

I barely got a taste of it, but things got so interesting and fun already that I’m determined to dive into these mysteries with all I have! 

For now, these are the screenshots that I gathered, but the digging isn’t over yet so follow me if you want to get updated on every detail about Harry Styles’ life 📨

FINALLY, the info I have for you is 100% exclusive and fresh, so buckle up guys!

Sincerely, 

🕵‍♂️🔎🕵‍♀️.

view all 20,909 comments  someone1 OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE BACK someone2 shit I forgot how much intell you used to share with us harryfan49 STOP THIS IS ABOUT HARRY AND YN!!!!!!! harryfan77 is this from tonight? 😲 are we supposed to believe in it?

↳ harryfan3 I wouldn’t pay too much attention to it ↳ harryfan11 even if they’re saying yn was crying???  ↳ harryfan3 yes, because actually it’s not up to us to know if/when she cries or not.

ynharryenthusiast this is actually so disrespectful to harry and yn. please leave them alone.  harryfan44 are you telling me this isn’t exactly what yn wanted?  harryfan44 if she didn’t want anyone to know about her crying, then she shouldn’t have cried in public space !! harryfan77 at least they left yn’s picture out of the screenshot 

↳ user7 after exposing her like this it’s the least they can do 

harryfan196 ＠popgossip remember when you used to do that thing of reading people’s theories and fact checking them?!! 😉😏

↳ harryfan196 so my theory is that yn saw the comments on her last post and got upset so she went outside and called her friend or maybe her mom then someone from the band told harry about it and that’s why he chased her and why he wanted to talk about it and she didn’t !!!!!!!! why she didn’t want him to see her crying !!!!!!! ↳ popgossip On it, babe! 🔎

Sep 29, 2021 • 

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liked by harryfan13, harryfan99, harryfan71, and 3,321 others 

harryupdates More lucky fans just met Harry in Nashville! He also took some time to facetime their cousin (who’s also a fan!). 

view all 507 comments  harryfan88 WTF GUYS?? 😭 am I the only one who isn’t in nashville meeting harry right now?? harryfan17 harry spending the day with tyler and meeting fans is so soft harryfan17 dont ask me why i cant explain it but i think it is okay. it really is harryfan20 was anyone brave enough to ask if Yn was actually crying and sobbing like a baby last night? lollll  harryfan5 THAT’S LUCYYYYY GUYSSS harryfan5 LUCY IS THE SWEETEST OMG harryfan5 SHE DESERVES IT SOOOOO MUCH! :’)  harryfan25 the way harry always makes people feel special and heard and seen <3 harryfan24 👏👏 harryfan24 i stand by what i said: the day is better when yn isn’t around!!

↳ harryfan32 i noticed that, too!  ↳ harryfan24 yeah!! look how many fans got to meet him bc she wasn’t there  ↳ harryfan9 whyyyyyy are you guys so obsessed with her omg!! ↳ harryfan24 i’m not obsessed i’m just happy harry got rid of her 😚 ↳ harryfan7 lol sure hun! let’s see what happens tomorrow for show 2 in nashville, then ↳ harryfan24 at least you admit he only cares about her during shows LOL

harryfan31 i cant love this man any more than i already do 😭 my heart srsly cant take it harryfan139 he doesn’t look ok :(

↳ harryfan6 🙄 you can’t even see his face ↳ harryfan139 i know… but something in his eyes doesn’t seem right :( ↳ harryfan48 he’s worried because his fake gilfriend’s friend was rude to his fans. he doesn’t want to be with her anymore but it’s being forced to anyway! ↳ harryfan5 holy molly now THAT’S a way to tell the story lmaooooo 

harryfan42 CAN WE PLEASE STOP IGNORING THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM? harryfan42 YN WAS SEEN CRYING LAST NIGHT AND HARRY CLEARLY HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH IT AND NOW SHE WASN’T SEEN WITH HIM ALL DAY EVEN THOUGH SHE NORMALLY IS FOLLOWING HIM EVERYWHERE 24/7

Sep 30, 2021 • 

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liked by bestfriend, user1, harryfan5, and 191 others

ynupdates 👀🔥

Anthony Pham (Harry Styles Tour photographer) just posted on instagram and tagged ＠yourinstagram. 

She then reposted the story and added a caption to the picture: “hey mom, i hope this will make you proud”. 

I think it’s pretty safe to assume they’re hanging out together, and that Yn’s words are a dig to some of the comments she got on her last post. 

Now the question that remains is: is that Yn’s ass? 😅

view all 31 comments user5 you have absolutely no idea how much I love this user5 like I swear I respect her silence and privacy to death, but ngl it’s been so hard to watch lol harryfan5 DAAAAAMMMNNNN YN  harryfan11 respectfully, 💋💋💋 harryfan23 hey cowboy ＠harrystyles  bestfriend i can 100% confirm, that’s her ass!  bestfriend i can also 100% confirm that’s her mom’s new background now

↳ ynharryenthusiast THANK YOU  ↳ harryfan23 you’re the real queen babe ↳ harryfan17 please never leave us

Sep 30, 2021 • 

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liked by user5, harryfan7, user13 and 97 others

ynupdates Good morning guys! Anthony and Yn are at it again lol 

Tonight Harry Styles performs in Nashville one more time, meaning Yn will be there filming and doing her job! 

We’re loving to see she’s speaking up but also handling things with humor, and we hope she knows there are a lot of people supporting her, too ❤️

view all 11 comments user9 not them making fun of people who say she doesn’t know how to do her job LMAO harryfan3 she really said i’m done holding back didn’t she :’)  harryfan7 I LOVE THIS SIDE OF HER user11 everyone around him loves her and people just cant handle that!!  

Sep 30, 2021 • 

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— — — — — 

PART 11 — (soon)

— — — — —

[jellofish-plant]

Sleep-Talk Confessions

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader

Summary: Jason has always been a light sleeper, so when he hears you mumbling in the dead of night, he’s instantly on alert. But when he catches what you’re actually saying his name he can’t resist teasing you about it the next morning. Unfortunately for you, he has zero plans of letting you live it down.

[Masterlist]

Jason wakes up to the sound of his own name, quiet and slurred in the dark.

At first, he tenses out of habit, brain wired for danger. But then he realizes the voice is yours soft, sleepy, barely above a whisper. His heartbeat slows as he turns his head to look at you, curled up beside him, face relaxed in the glow of the bedside lamp he forgot to turn off.

“You talk in your sleep, you know,” he murmurs, though you’re far too deep under to hear him.

But he hears you just fine.

“Mmm… Jason…”

His lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk. Oh, this is golden. He props himself up on his elbow, watching you with amused curiosity.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he whispers, just to see if you’ll respond.

You don’t answer, just sigh softly, shifting closer to the warmth of his body. Jason chuckles under his breath, pressing a light kiss to your forehead before settling back down. Oh, he is absolutely going to have fun with this in the morning.

When you wake up, Jason’s already grinning like a cat who got into the cream. You rub the sleep from your eyes, immediately suspicious. “What?”

His smirk deepens. “Sleep well?”

“…Yeah?”

“Dream about me?”

You blink. “What?”

Jason leans in, voice low, teasing. “You talk in your sleep, you know.”

Your stomach drops. “I—wait—”

“Mmm, Jason…” he mimics, throwing in a dramatic sigh for effect.

“Oh my God.”

“Oh yeah, you definitely said my name, babe.” He flops onto his back, hands behind his head like he’s savoring this moment. “Kinda sweet, actually. You dreaming about me, sweetheart?”

Your face burns as you groan, burying it in your hands. “I hate you.”

Jason just laughs, pulling you into his arms. “Nah, you love me. You literally said so in your sleep.”

Tag list:

@dreamzaremyrealityy

@not-herexo

@a-brilliante-mariposa

[jessjad]

And I have to wait another week???? 🤯🤯🤯

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

You were throwing hints at us here, but I still have questions that hopefully will be answered. Now I'm wondering how Michael was before the war. It's traumatizing and on the brink of death you grab at every straw. I do believe that he really loves her, but maybe it morphed into something else. Him being dependent on her? Or he realized that the man he actually is does not fit to her... I NEED ANSWERS!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

He did NOT!!! 😲😲😲 Oh Dean... that was not nice. You're already drawn to eachother. Inextricably linked. Don't sabotage yourself from something real. ☝🏻

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

See? It hit right home. She already thinks she's not worth it anymore and you just confirmed that. 😔 This is pure miscommunication.

But I'm glad that nothing happened to Sam and that he got the evidence they needed. She'll be free in a couple of months. 👍🏻

Eventhough you got me a little worried about your 'next time' teaser... 😑 I can't wait to read the next chapter! 💜💜

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.” 

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes. 

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list. 

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.” 

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you. 

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.  

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?” 

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.  

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you. 

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far. 

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp. 

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.” 

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel. 

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand. 

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol 

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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[andrealol7]

the exit

mattheo riddle x reader

part 2

inspired by the exit by conan gray

a/ n : this was honestly a joke but im just gona finish it anyway. LMAOOO THIS IS SO DUMB ITS SO BAD

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

Silence hung between you.

Heavy. Suffocating.

Mattheo’s words echoed in your mind, over and over, like a curse you couldn’t shake.

“Because I love you.”

You should have been happy. Should have felt victorious, knowing that after everything, after all of it, he had finally admitted the truth.

But all you felt was angry.

Angry that it had taken this long. Angry that he had waited until you were finally trying to move on. Angry that he only wanted you when he thought he might actually lose you.

You let out a shaky breath. “You don’t get to do this, Mattheo.”

He stiffened. “Do what?”

“You don’t get to say that now.” Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be, more fragile. “Not after everything. Not after pretending like I didn’t mean anything to you.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not—”

“You let me think I was nothing to you,” you interrupted, your voice rising. “And now that I’m finally done—now that I’m finally trying to move on—you suddenly love me?”

His eyes darkened. “You think I suddenly love you?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I think you love the idea of me. I think you love the way I looked at you like you hung the stars. I think you love knowing I would have done anything for you, and now that I’m not waiting around for you anymore, you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

His hand shot out before you could react, gripping your chin—gently, but firm enough to make you look at him.

“I have always loved you,” he said, voice low, unsteady. “You don’t think I wanted to tell you? You don’t think I wanted to be yours?”

You swallowed hard, your resolve wavering.

“Then why didn’t you?” you whispered.

He exhaled sharply, his grip loosening. “Because I’m not good for you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “And you think that’s your decision to make?”

His fingers brushed against your cheek, barely there, like he was afraid you would disappear if he held you too tightly. “I thought I was protecting you.”

Your throat tightened. “By hurting me?”

His face twisted in something like pain. “By making sure you didn’t get too close.”

You stared at him, your heart breaking all over again. “Well, you failed.”

Mattheo closed his eyes for a second, exhaling shakily. When he opened them again, there was something pleading in them.

“Please,” he murmured. “Tell me you don’t love me.”

The words hung between you, thick and heavy, filling the space with something dangerous.

You should have said it. Should have let the lie fall from your lips and walked away. Should have left him standing there, alone, the way he had left you so many times before.

But the truth was—

You did love him.

And you always would.

Your lips parted, the words sitting on the tip of your tongue.

And then—

“Mattheo?”

Your blood turned to ice.

Because that voice?

That voice wasn’t yours.

Slowly, you turned.

And there she was.

The girl from the party.

Standing at the end of the corridor, her wide eyes darting between the two of you—between your flushed cheeks, Mattheo’s hands still lingering on your skin, the undeniable tension crackling between you like a storm waiting to break.

Realization dawned on her face.

And then—

“Oh.”

Just one word.

Just one little word.

But it was enough.

Mattheo’s body went rigid.

Your stomach dropped.

Because suddenly, everything clicked into place.

The way he had looked at you that night, guilty but unreadable. The way he had kissed you like he was trying to forget something. The way he had waited—waited until you were moving on, waited until you had finally found someone else, before telling you the words you had begged to hear for so long.

You turned back to him, breath catching in your throat.

“Mattheo,” you whispered, voice trembling. “What did you do?”

His lips parted, but he didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to.

Because the silence was enough.

Because the truth was written all over his face.

Because suddenly, you weren’t the only one he had been lying to.

And in the end—

You weren’t the only one he had betrayed.

-

You felt it before you understood it— That slow, sinking feeling in your chest. Like the ground had been ripped out from under you, and you were still waiting for the fall to kill you.

Mattheo didn’t say anything. Didn’t deny it. Didn’t even try.

And that silence? That hurt more than anything else ever could.

The girl—his girl, your replacement, the one he had let drape herself over him at the party—stood frozen, staring between the two of you. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

You knew that feeling well.

Because how were you supposed to react when you realized someone you loved—someone you trusted, even when you knew you shouldn’t—was a liar?

Was a coward?

Was never really yours to begin with?

The truth settled in your bones like ice.

You weren’t special.

Not to him.

You were just another game, another distraction, another girl he had pulled close just to let go.

Your stomach twisted, but you forced yourself to keep your chin high, to school your expression into something unreadable. You wouldn’t let Mattheo Riddle see you break.

Not anymore.

The girl finally found her voice, though it was barely a whisper. “Mattheo…?”

He still didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Because there was no way out of this. No excuse, no lie, no charming grin that could make either of you forget what had just happened.

The truth was standing right there in front of him.

Two girls. One confession. A lifetime of damage.

You felt the ache of it pressing against your ribs, but you swallowed it down, forcing a bitter smile.

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one waiting for you to choose me.”

That got his attention.

His head snapped up, his eyes searching yours with something desperate. “Don’t—”

But you were already turning away.

Already walking past the girl, offering her nothing but a fleeting glance of understanding.

She wasn’t the villain here.

Neither of you were.

The only monster in this story was the boy standing between you.

You kept walking.

One step. Then another. And another.

It was harder than it should have been. Because some stupid, pathetic part of you had spent so long hoping—waiting—for Mattheo to run after you.

For him to fight for you.

But he never did.

Not when it mattered.

Not when it was too late.

And that was the thing about exits, wasn’t it?

The moment you walked through one, there was no going back.

-

It had been days.

Days since you had walked away.

Days since Mattheo had let you.

You had expected to feel free. Lighter. Relieved, even.

Instead, there was only a hollow ache, a weight in your chest that refused to fade.

You hated it.

Hated that after everything—after all the lies, all the secrets, all the bullshit—he still had a hold on you.

But that was the thing about Mattheo Riddle.

You never really left him behind.

No matter how much you wanted to.

-

The Great Hall was loud, as always.

Laughter, conversations, the clinking of silverware—it all blurred together into a background hum.

You weren’t paying attention to any of it.

You were too busy pretending.

Pretending to listen as your friends talked around you. Pretending you weren’t hyper-aware of the Slytherin table. Pretending you hadn’t caught Mattheo staring at you three times already.

You hadn’t looked back. Not once.

And you wouldn’t.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

You wouldn’t let him think you were still his to keep.

But even as you focused on the conversation in front of you, even as you forced yourself to laugh at something someone said, you felt it—

The heat of his gaze.

The storm brewing beneath it.

And then—

The scrape of a chair.

The heavy thud of boots against the stone floor.

The sudden silence that settled over your table as Mattheo Riddle—dark-eyed, disheveled, and entirely too close—dropped into the empty seat beside you.

Your body went rigid.

You didn’t look at him.

Didn’t acknowledge him.

Didn’t react, even when the air around you grew thick with tension, even when your friends glanced between the two of you, their conversation dying out entirely.

And then, in a voice too low for anyone else to hear—

“Are you really going to ignore me forever?”

A slow inhale. A steady exhale.

You still didn’t look at him.

“I’m eating, Mattheo,” you said simply, keeping your voice level, unaffected.

He scoffed, leaning in slightly. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe that’s all you’ve been doing these past few days? Just—what? Eating? Laughing? Acting like you don’t care?”

A muscle in your jaw twitched.

You would not let him get to you.

Not here. Not now.

“I don’t care,” you said.

Lie.

You heard the way Mattheo exhaled sharply, the way his fingers curled into fists against the table. “You do.”

“No.” You forced yourself to take a bite of food, to act like he wasn’t sitting right beside you, like he wasn’t unraveling you piece by piece. “I really don’t.”

His voice dropped even lower, his breath ghosting over your ear.

“Then look at me.”

Your grip on your fork tightened.

You wouldn’t.

Because if you looked at him—if you saw that familiar fire in his eyes, the one that had always burned for you—you might start to believe him again.

And you couldn’t.

So you gave him nothing.

No reaction. No flicker of emotion.

Just silence.

Until finally, he exhaled harshly, shoving back his chair and standing up.

The moment he was gone, the table around you came back to life. Conversations resumed, the tension dissipated, and someone—one of your friends, maybe—muttered something about Mattheo being a stubborn idiot.

You didn’t disagree.

But as you pushed your food around your plate, your stomach tight and your thoughts tangled—

You realized something.

You might have left Mattheo Riddle behind.

But he wasn’t ready to let you go.

-

That night.

You weren’t expecting him.

You should have been.

Because when had Mattheo ever let something go without a fight?

It was late. Too late.

The castle was silent, the corridors dimly lit as you made your way back to your dorm.

And then—

“Are you done pretending yet?”

You froze.

Turned.

And there he was.

Mattheo Riddle, standing in the shadows like a ghost from your past.

His uniform was disheveled, his tie loosened, his hair a mess like he had run his hands through it too many times.

His eyes—Merlin, his eyes—were wild. Dark. Desperate.

You swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”

He took a step closer. “Waiting for you.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, but you kept your expression unreadable. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“That’s bullshit,” he said, his voice rough. “And you know it.”

You crossed your arms. “Oh? Enlighten me, then. What exactly do you think I want to say to you?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“That you miss me.”

You inhaled sharply, but he kept going, stepping even closer, his voice softer now. “That it’s killing you as much as it’s killing me. That you’re just as fucking miserable as I am.”

Your throat tightened. “You’re delusional.”

Mattheo let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe I am. But you know what I’m not?”

He reached out, fingers ghosting over your wrist.

You didn’t pull away.

And he noticed.

“I’m not lying to myself,” he murmured.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your breathing.

Because this was Mattheo.

The boy who could ruin you with a look.

And the worst part?

You wanted to let him.

But then—

You thought about that night.

About the way he had let you believe you were his, while he had someone else waiting in the shadows.

The moment shattered.

Your eyes snapped open. You yanked your hand away, stepping back.

“I don’t miss you,” you said, each word slow, deliberate.

Lie.

Mattheo’s jaw tightened. “Say it again.”

“I don’t miss you.”

Lie, lie, lie.

His eyes searched yours, looking for a crack, an opening, anything.

And when he found nothing—

He exhaled, his expression hardening.

“Fine,” he said, stepping back. “If that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t.

But you didn’t stop him as he turned away, as he disappeared into the darkness.

And as you stood there, alone in the empty corridor, you couldn’t help but wonder—

If he had stayed just a second longer—

Would you have let him ruin you all over again?

[cum-a-calla]

I realized why I’m so damn horny…..I started my period 😭 bleeding like a bitch in heat, I need Roman or Benji to get me stoned and bend me in half to fill me up. I don’t even want kids but fuck do I need one of them to just cum in me multiple times throughout the day. They stay home with you and fuck you as they please. I just need them to manhandle me into position and distract me from the pain 🤡 (also many apologies for spamming you 🫣)

tbh you should actually keep spamming me, satan fuckin help me

i'm literally expecting my bleed today or tomorrow (i'm already a day late soooo i need it forcefucked out of my body actually)

Roman would not be kind. he'd be mean, hard, pounding you and sticking his fingers into you all day long. snapping at you when you're atill not fucking bleeding. or, conversely, when you finally are, he's annoyed every time you have a cramp or discomfort.

"god, you're really fuckin' taking time out of my day, you know that? needy fuckin' slut. can barely work while you look so goddamned miserable. c'mere - get the fuck over here. let's do this again. sit still, i'm only doing this so you can shut the fuck up. cumming helps cramps or some shit, right?"

and he just keeps fingering your cunt, rubbing your clit, going so far as to fuck you multiple times under the guise that he HAS to, like a chore. because your pain is annoying. it's not conducive to a productive work environment, don't you fucking know that? how is he supposed to do his job when you're having cramps and looking so fucking glum?

...

Benji, though... he's- fuck. he's in love. he notices blood on the sheets. he's immediately shrugging it off - "oh, fuck off, go get breakfast. wait - take my card. buy, like - go get some kinda... i dunno get some breakfast somewhere, takeout, whatever. go."

and when you come back he's all about it. smoking you out, rubbing your legs, your thighs, your tummy. making sure you eat, keeping you hydrated. ignoring his own hard dick the whole time until it feels right, and he's kissing all along your sore body, your tits, moaning between them. asking politely with his big, glazed puppy eyes before he dips his fingers under your pants to pet your red, slippery cunt. getting so excited he humps his hips into you, his cock aching.

laying a towel down so he can lean down and eat your pussy, blood and all. you're so shy. but he's so insistent, he's so fucking ready and desperate.

"please - c'mon, let me make you feel good, please. please."

petting his hair while he moans and licks and sucks and laps, sticking his fingers into you, curving them, moaning when you whine and cum. his lips red, facial hair slicked with your own blood. he looks like a fucking animal, but not in a predatory way. he looks like he's tasted something holy and precious and good, he's in love, god, his red-rimmed eyes may as well have cartoon hearts in the depths of those blown pupils. and he whines when he finally takes his cock out and begs to fuck your slick, pulsing pussy.

"can i - mmmh fuck can i please fuck you? yeah? wanna make you feel good. please." rutting against your thigh. "m-mommy, please? fuckin' - oh, god, please."

and he's not just gentle, he's thoughtful, fucking his cock deep, slow but not gentle. passionately. glancing down at his own slippery, red cock as it pounds in and out of your body. the way your aching tits bounce, your soft, gorgeous body underneath him. it's beautiful. it's gorgeous, religious, unbelievable. he can't last long, not like this, and once he's done shooting his cum in ropes up against your poor, sore cervix, he watches as he pulls out and turns your cunt just a little more pink, his spend mixing with all that blood. and god, if he keeps watching, he's gunna want to go again.

but first, a nap. this is gunna take all day.

[cod-indulgences]

Um so like I’ve never actually requested before so idk how to do this but um I had an idea.

Reader sitting on prices lap after her forced her to to cock warm him. Him Slapping your thigh when you try to move because you want more.

Um anyways that’s all. Love your work and all you have written 🫶🏼

John Price x female!reader, cockwarming, coming untouched, blowjobs

You whine and squirm, trying to get more comfortable. Price has your legs spread open on his lap, speared on his cock, and any other time you'd be all over it but-

-but he won't let you move.

The slick that had dripped from your pussy was tacky on your inner thighs, and you clench and wriggle, trying to get worked up again. You hated this part, when Price is ready to just settle down and relax, letting your pussy hold his cock- but you need more movement, more touching, something to keep your body interested in sitting still.

A smack to your outer thigh stops you, and you pout, leaning onto Price's shoulder. "John," you whine, and jump at another smack.

"No, love," he rumbles, "I told you, hold still. You'll get yours later if you behave."

You huff, rolling your eyes. Another smack makes you squeak and clamp down, and you moan when it rubs his cock just perfectly against your cunt. You're sopping wet for him, and just sitting feels like a waste of time and effort, of a pussy that's wanting to come on his cock.

You wriggle a little, yelp at the smack, and sigh, giving in. If all he wants is pussy hugging his cock, fine, you can sit here and wait, no moving.

Or at least, no moving your body.

You take a breath and slowly release it, releasing your inner muscles, before tightening up again in a wave that crawls from your belly down to your pussy, snugging the head of Price's cock down to the base. Another breath to release it again, and then another clench, feeling your hole squeeze and release. The flexing makes your clit perk up too, and you feel it throb as you drip more slick, little wet sucking sounds floating up to your ears.

John's hands tighten on your hips, but otherwise he doesn't move, and you can't see his face from your spot on his shoulder- so you do it again, sighing in pleasure. It's like the world's slowest vibrator, tension crawling through your cunt, little sparks going up your spine as the head of John's cock twitches inside you. You set a rhythm, trying to hide your moans in his shoulder, feeling the spasms in your thighs add to the heat in your belly.

John turns his head to speak into your ear. "Just what do you think you're doing?" He rumbles, and you shudder at the danger in his voice. A little burst of slick squeezes past his cock.

"...nothing," you try, and can't help your moan when his fingers slip down the crack of your ass, petting right where the rim of your cunt is pulled tight across his cock.

"Doesn't feel like nothing to me," he says, and you wait for him to thrust up, fuck you properly, but...nothing. Price smirks when you sit up a little to see his face. "What? You were doing fine by yourself. Go ahead, finish up."

You gulp, feeling a trap, but his cock twitches again and oh, that feels so good- you clench down, clit throbbing, and try to angle your hips to get him where you want him. Oh, right there, just pushing against your g-spot and your clit shoved up against his pelvis. His hands are holding you in place, you can't lift up to ride him, and moan when you realize he really meant you to come like this- speared on his cock, unable to move or fuck him, left at the mercy of your own inner muscle control to finish.

You're sweating by the time you actually make it, quivering around his cock, and moan with relief as the building tension finally snaps- there's a slick gushing around your hole, your clit pulsing, you feel the wave of heat spread out through your limbs and tingle in your fingertips, oh it's so good, and your belly and cunt throb with a deep ache as sore muscles are finally allowed to relax. John slides his hand back down your ass again, spreading your cheeks, and you whine as the motion pulls on your pussy, stretching your hole out. He spanks you, making you jump, moaning when it makes you clamp down again; he does it to the other cheek, and then to your thigh, chuckling as you squeak and tighten up each time.

"Alright princess, you got what you wanted," he says. "You satisfied? Had a little fun there?" When you nod into his throat he laughs aloud. Abruptly he lifts you off his cock, you yelp when he knocks your knees back together and puts you on them, rubbing his cock over your cheek. You lick along it, tasting yourself, and he moans at you when you suck the head, drawing him into your mouth. You love how it tastes, your slick slowly covered up by his precome, and moan, pussy aching, when John puts his hands on your head and pulls you down, his cock nudging your throat.

You wait a moment, then look up at him, brow furrowed in confusion, but he doesn't move his hips, or your head- just grins down with a glint in his eye.

"What? You enjoyed yourself so much before. Get me off now- and no moving."

You moan, wriggling your tongue, and realize you were in for a long, long night.

[zepskies]

I was so happy to read a sequel story for Long As I Can See The Light!!

Russell and you had been together for five and a half months, and each time he left you found yourself wanting more.  More of him and more time. It was frustrating to be with a man who had a job that would pull him out of your arms as quickly as he’d appeared and leave your bed cold once more. 

God YES. This is the same idea I've explored in my sequel fics to ESC. It's the idea of wanting more time with a man who by necessity of his job, has to pop in and out of your life. As endearing as Russell is, that would be such a difficult obstacle to overcome in a new relationship.

Those last few years of your marriage were frustrating and did little to boost your self-esteem. Especially when your husband made you think you were annoying him and made you feel stupid for wanting more.  With Russell there was no such thing. When the two of you started dating and Russell realized exactly what your husband had done to you, he'd spent every waking moment making you feel more beautiful than you ever had. He listened to you, understood you, and did more for you than your husband had done in all the years that you'd been married.

Ugh I'm so glad she's got a man in her life that actually loves her and considers her the way she deserves. And if you ever write more of these two I would love to see this exploration of how Russell helps her feel beautiful and appreciated again. 💕

You loved your boyfriend to bits, but you hated how stubborn he was sometimes.

*snorts* yeah, like a mule, I'd imagine. 😆 But there's something so endearing about Russ wanting and insisting on fixing things around the house for her. Though of course I sympathize with her side of things. She just wants a nice healthy piece of her man. The showerhead can wait! 😏

Maybe I should try a different approach. “Rus.” You say sweetly, putting both of your hands on his stomach. Russell’s familiar green eyes flick to your hands as you begin to move them up the wet t-shirt. “When you showed up today I thought we’d be doing something a little different with our time.”  Russell swallows. “Baby-” “And the longer you stay in here-” You breathe taking a step forward as you continue to move your hands up, tracing the hardened muscles beneath your palms. “The less time we have together.” You gently press a kiss to the space where his shirt meets the base of his neck and you can feel the bob of his throat as he swallows again. 

Oh how I cackled! 😝 She's playing dirty and I love it lmao! Girl get him!

He groans. “I really want to do this for you, but you’re making it kinda hard-“  “Really?” You mutter nipping along his jaw. “That’s what I’m making hard?”

💀💀 Get himmmmm!

“I could tell.” He smirks. “Maybe your shower head would last a little longer if you didn't wear it out." Russell sends you a salacious wink that makes you blush bright red.

LMFAO. Okay, Russ took me out with that one. The audacity. 🤣🤣

Side note: but I love the word "salacious," especially because it fits so well with most Jackles characters. lol

Omg yay he's moving in!! That's a big step and I love that for them.

Not when he’d taught you that each blemish or curve you once cursed was something that could make him lose his last shred of self control and in turn, make Russell lose himself in everything you were. 

Girl Yessss - I love the body positivity in this storyverse so damn much. Thank you for continuing this giving me more Russell goodness, I really enjoy how you write him! 💜

It's Not A Wet T-Shirt Contest

Pairing: Russell Shaw x f!reader, Reader POV

Prompt: “Is that supposed to be leaking?”

Requested by: @luci-in-trenchcoats

Summary:  When your boyfriend comes into town to surprise you one weekend, you thought that you’d spend it together, turns out he has other plans. Reader is a single mom and is the niece of Teddi and Velma. Reader is described as curvy. (Technically takes place in my Long As I Can See The Light Universe, but can be read as a stand-alone.)

Tropes: Established Relationship

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because I made it more spicy than I meant it to, References to Sex, Sexual innuendo, Little bit of self-deprecating thought (reader), Cursing, Kissing, Idiots who love each other lots. I think that's everything?

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n if any. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Tracker Masterlist

A/N: Alright, y'all this is my first fic written for my prompt celebration requested by the wonderful @luci-in-trenchcoats 😊 ENJOY!

You took another long sip of coffee from your favorite hand-painted "World's Best Mom Mug" and tried to block out the symphony of the colorful curse words and banging coming from your upstairs master bathroom.

When your boyfriend showed up this morning out of the blue to surprise you, this was not what you expected to be doing. Well, his appearance was a surprise to you, but you had a sneaking suspicion that your Aunt Teddi and her wife Velma had gotten a heads up that Russell was coming. They'd shown up about an hour before Russell had to take your son and daughter for a movie and a sleepover at their house.

But the bigger surprise was your current dilemma.

You'd expected to be tangled up with Russell in bed for hours trying to convince him to never leave you again, not be waiting downstairs while he tried to install a new shower head in your master bathroom.

You only blamed yourself.

You'd let it slip that the water pressure wasn't quite right and something that you'd thought would take a plumber twenty minutes had turned into an all day affair for Russell. 

Instead of taking you to bed, Russell had dragged you out to his car and to the nearest hardware store where he let you pick out a new shower head and where he got supplies, all the while you told him that he didn't need to, and Russell only kissed away the frown on your lips leaving you wanting more.

You always wanted more.

Russell and you had been together for five and a half months, and each time he left you found yourself wanting more. 

More of him and more time.

It was frustrating to be with a man who had a job that would pull him out of your arms as quickly as he’d appeared and leave your bed cold once more. 

It had been cold before and you didn’t want to go back to that. Didn’t want to be reminded of the cold bed over the final years of your marriage when your husband’s favorite phrases echoed through your bedroom after you put your children to bed:

“I’m tired” and “Not tonight baby, I have to work.”

Those last few years of your marriage were frustrating and did little to boost your self-esteem. Especially when your husband made you think you were annoying him and made you feel stupid for wanting more. 

With Russell there was no such thing.

When the two of you started dating and Russell realized exactly what your husband had done to you, he'd spent every waking moment making you feel more beautiful than you ever had. He listened to you, understood you, and did more for you than your husband had done in all the years that you'd been married.

But each time he left, Russell always took a little bit of yourself with him. You didn't sleep well when he was gone doing God knows what, God knows where, only that when he finally called or showed up to tell you he was okay, you didn't let go of him for hours.

There's another loud bang followed by a string of curses that make you sigh into your mug.

For fucks sake, that stupid showerhead is getting more action than I am.

You loved your boyfriend to bits, but you hated how stubborn he was sometimes.

You straighten up from where you lounged against the countertop in your kitchen, taking one more sip of coffee, before you make the trek through your living room and up the stairs towards your bedroom. 

This wasn't the first time that Russell fixed something in your home. He liked it when you made him a list of things to do when he visited, things like cleaning the gutters, nailing down the front step that always caught underfoot, mowing the lawn, etc. Things that Russell wanted to do for you because he knew how busy you got at work and with your children.

It made you love him more, because you’d never met someone so selfless before. 

When you enter the bathroom, Russell is standing in your shower, just inside the large glass double doors, soaking wet, and holding a wrench.

His usual easy smile has slipped into a frustrated frown while he stares at the bright silver shower head hanging on the wall. 

“I see things are going well.” You snort out a laugh, admiring the scene before you. 

Russell’s dark hair drips forward in lazy strands against his cheeks, his t-shirt clings to his chest like a second skin, catching in the dips and curves of your boyfriend’s muscular torso, and his usual blue jeans are stained a dark navy. The edge of his t-shirt pulls up from the top of his jeans with the stretch of his arms, giving you a view of the delicious stripe of skin just below his belly button.

For the love of french toast, the guy could win a wet t-shirt contest without batting one of those ridiculously perfect eyelashes of his.

At this point you were still trying to figure out how the hell you landed this man and why the hell he kept coming back for more of you.

“Smooth as silk.” Russell gives you a lazy smile that makes you feel like butter on a pile of buttermilk biscuits. “I just finished.”

 “Really?” 

“Mhmm.”

“Huh.” You take a step closer to admire his handiwork, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath ghost along the side of your face, making goosebumps trail over your skin. All it does is remind you of what the two of you could be doing instead of standing inside of your walk-in shower fully clothed and the things the two of you had done in this very shower the last time he was in town.  

"Is that supposed to be leaking?" You ask, pointing to the place where the plate of the shower head fastens to the wall and where there is a trickle of water dancing down the white subway tile backsplash.

"Oh shit." Russell sighs, his shoulders drooping when he notices the stream. “I can fix that."

You note his sheepish smile. “Rus, please let me call a plumber. You’ve been up here for two hours!” 

“No way! They overcharge you and it’s what I’m here for!” He argues.

Maybe I should try a different approach.

“Rus.” You say sweetly, putting both of your hands on his stomach. Russell’s familiar green eyes flick to your hands as you begin to move them up the wet t-shirt. “When you showed up today I thought we’d be doing something a little different with our time.” 

Russell swallows. “Baby-”

“And the longer you stay in here-” You breathe taking a step forward as you continue to move your hands up, tracing the hardened muscles beneath your palms. “The less time we have together.” You gently press a kiss to the space where his shirt meets the base of his neck and you can feel the bob of his throat as he swallows again. 

“I-” He tries again, but you feel his hands come down to the curve of your hips to ground himself there. 

“Don’t you want to spend time with me?” You murmur into his skin, pressing your chest against his as your hands work up to the back of his neck. The water from his clothes soaks into yours, but you’re not cold. 

“You’re fighting dirty.” He half groans, but you don’t feel bad. Judging by the way his hands have begun to squeeze your hips and pull you tighter against him, Russell was enjoying this as much as you were. 

“But it always works.” You purr against his throat with a smirk. 

“Fuck, baby I-“ 

“Yeah?” 

Your smirk grows the more you tease him. By now you could feel your own heartbeat thudding in your chest calling out to his and despite how cold Russell’s wet clothes are, heat was dancing along your skin. 

“I really want-“ There’s a grit along Russell’s voice, as if he’s trying to hold on to some shred of self-control.

You loved that you were able to do this to him, it made you feel powerful and sexy. Two things that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Hmm?” You moan softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck while your lips continue their path along his skin.

He groans. “I really want to do this for you, but you’re making it kinda hard-“ 

“Really?” You mutter nipping along his jaw. “That’s what I’m making hard?”

Russell pulls back from you, holding your wrists in his large hands. But he looks far from angry. His green eyes flash a darkened pine, and dance with mischief. “Baby, trust me. There is nothing more that I want to do than show you how much I missed you.” 

“Then why-" You begin to say.

“Because I know that the second I do that, we’re not going to do anything else the rest of the time I’m here. And I want to do this for you.” Russell’s eyes shift a little lighter. He releases your wrists and cups your cheek with his large hand. You can see the love you have for Russell reflected back at you in his gaze

You sigh again a little disappointed. Today really wasn’t going the way you wanted it to.  “But I missed you.” 

“I could tell.” He smirks. “Maybe your shower head would last a little longer if you didn't wear it out." Russell sends you a salacious wink that makes you blush bright red.

“Shut up!” You slap him on the shoulder, cheeks flaming. 

Russell only smirks wider at you. “You know… I’ve got a solution for that.”

“Oh do you?” You ask innocently. 

Finally, we’re getting somewhere.

Russell hesitates, his hand still stroking your cheek softly. "I could move in."

It was the last thing that you were expecting him to say.

“See I've been thinking about this for a bit." Russell  clears his throat. “I know you can’t move because of the kids but... I want to be here in your life. I hate leaving you and each time I get done with a job I always find myself driving back to you. I don't want to be anywhere else.”

Your mouth is still open in shock, eyes wide. You couldn’t find the ability to speak.

In the months that followed your divorce you’d been on a couple of dates before you met Russell, where the mere mention of your kids sent your dates scuttling into the shadows or back to whatever swamp they crawled out of, but here, standing in front of you was a man who didn’t just want you, he wanted you, and he wanted your children. 

It was a combination that you thought you’d never find, and then you’d met Russell. A man who not only loved you, he made you feel beautiful, alive, happy, and seen in a way that you hadn’t been in years. 

Not to mention that both of your children absolutely loved Russell, and he did a good job of scaring off your skeevy ex who refused to come around whenever Russell was in town because the last time Russell had broken his nose and threatened other bodily harm.

Russell’s soft smile drops a little the longer you remain silent. “But if you think that’s a bad idea or if you think it’s too fast-”

You pull him down to you for the searing kiss that you’d wanted all day long, feeling the drag of his beard against your soft skin, and the warm pillow of his lips moving in tandem with yours. 

His hands run along the curves of your body, trailing fire in their wake, the same curves that you’d hidden under long cardigans and oversized clothes, the ones that you cursed each time you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. But not since you’d met Russell. 

Not when he’d taught you that each blemish or curve you once cursed was something that could make him lose his last shred of self control and in turn, make Russell lose himself in everything you were. 

“It’s not too fast! I hate when you leave. I hate waking up in my bed each morning and not having you there holding me. ” You breathe before you kiss him again, soaking in everything that is Russell as you do. The roughness of his hands pushing up the shirt hung low on your hips, the smell of mint and gunmetal, the taste of the coffee he had this morning, and gentle drag of his wet hair against your cheeks that dip between the two of your faces when you kiss. “I want you here with me all the time.”

“Then I’ll stay.” Russell smiles so wide you can feel the click of his teeth against yours when he pulls you back in for a kiss. 

“Wait.” You smirk, leaning your forehead against his, your hands gently cupping his bearded cheeks. "If I say yes, I have one condition."

"Anything."

"Please let me call a plumber."

Russell rolls his eyes at you, but squeezes you tighter against him, green eyes flashing with mischief. “Not a chance baby.”

A/N: It was so fun to write this prompt and also to come back to these two! Thank you so much @luci-in-trenchcoats for requesting this one 🥰 If anyone else would like to ask me a prompt for my prompt celebration, here is the post:

Prompt Celebration

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are not required, but are always appreciated 😊

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @louisanalady

@yvonneeeee

[serenityluvz]

𝗘𝗻𝗵𝘆𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: 𝗛𝗲 𝗙𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗕𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆

⋆𐙚₊˚ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸᴸᵘᵛᶻ

Heeseung – “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”

The moment he realizes, he feels sick. Heeseung never forgets important dates, but he’s been so caught up with schedules that the day just… slipped his mind. When he sees your disappointed expression, his heart shatters. "Baby… please tell me I didn’t actually forget." You don’t say anything. His stomach drops. "Fuck." He runs a hand through his hair, pacing. "I swear, I didn’t mean to, Y/N. I feel like the worst boyfriend ever." That night, he goes all out—surprising you with a romantic setup, heartfelt apologies, and plenty of cuddles. "I know I messed up, but let me make it up to you, okay? Starting now, your birthday is a week-long celebration." And he means it.

Jay – “Shit… Y/N, I—”

Jay realizes it too late. He’s casually scrolling through his phone when he sees the date—and his heart stops. "No. No, no, no." He looks at you, but you’re already cold, your usual warmth missing. "Fuck, baby, I—" He reaches for you, but you step back. "Just… don’t," you mutter. He hates himself for this. He spends the next hours desperately trying to fix it—getting your favorite cake, a handwritten letter, and the biggest bouquet he can find. When he finally sees you again, his voice is soft. "I don’t deserve you, but please, let me make this right."

Jake – “Wait… today is the… oh my God.”

Jake is so sure that your birthday is tomorrow—until he hears someone casually mention the date, and suddenly, he’s frozen in panic. "No, no, NO—" He spins to find you, praying you’ll laugh and say it’s fine—but the disappointment in your eyes? It kills him. "Y/N, please, I swear I thought it was tomorrow—" He’s so genuinely devastated that you almost feel bad. That night, he showers you with endless affection, apologizing a thousand times. "I’m an idiot, but I’m your idiot," he pouts. "Let me make it up to you?" And when you finally smile, he tackles you in a hug, refusing to let go.

Sunghoon – “I… I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

Sunghoon doesn’t realize it until way too late. The moment he does, his whole body goes cold. He sees you sitting on the couch, scrolling on your phone, not even looking at him. "Y/N…" he starts, voice hesitant. You don’t answer. He swallows hard, stepping closer. "Baby, I—"

"Don’t," you mumble. "Just don’t, Hoon." And that? It wrecks him. He doesn’t know what to say—he’s never felt so fucking awful. The next day, he surprises you with a huge apology, making sure you know how much he loves you. "I’ll spend every day making up for this. I swear."

Jungwon – “Please don’t be mad… I feel terrible.”

Jungwon realizes the second he sees the way you’re acting—quiet, distant, avoiding his gaze. "Baby… what’s wrong?" When you don’t answer, it hits him. "Oh my God… your birthday." He instantly feels sick. "Y/N, I—fuck, I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry." You stay quiet, and it kills him. That night, he does everything he can to make you smile again—cooking your favorite meal, writing you a heartfelt letter, pulling you into his arms. "I’ll never, ever forget again. Please, let me make it up to you." And when you finally hug him back, he swears to remember forever.

Sunoo – “I deserve the silent treatment for this, don’t I?”

Sunoo is so confident that he’s got everything under control—until he realizes he completely forgot. The moment he sees the sad look in your eyes, his stomach drops. "Oh, no. Oh, no no no—" He rushes to you, hands on your shoulders. "Baby. Please tell me I didn’t forget your birthday." You don’t answer. "Fuck, I did." He groans, pulling you into a tight hug. "I’m the worst, Y/N. You can ignore me for the next 24 hours—I deserve it." But of course, he doesn’t let you ignore him. The next day, he showers you with affection, gifts, and so many apologies. "I love you. And next year? I’m making sure this is the best birthday ever."

Ni-ki – “...Can I fix this?”

Ni-ki freezes when he realizes. He knows he messed up, but when he sees how upset you are, he feels completely lost. "Y/N… I forgot, didn’t I?" You nod, looking away. His heart sinks. "Shit." He hesitates before reaching for your hand. "I don’t know what to say except… I’m so sorry. Can I fix this?" He spends the entire day making it up to you—playing your favorite games, taking you out, holding your hand extra tight. By the end of the night, he whispers, "I’m never forgetting again. I promise." And you know he means it.