#but like… why would I want you here if you’re gonna have that up there

[reignpage]

Working Hard

“Stay still, ma,” Toji demands again. 

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

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

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

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

This big, strong man is all yours. 

And he knows it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever.”

He snorts. “Atta girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Working out is fun if it’s with Toji.

[cherrysurf]

winning you back pt.2

-where haikyu boys try to win back you their ex gf

-this is lwk depressing but maybe it’s bc of the music im listening to rn LMAO

contains; atsumu, tsukishima, kita, sakusa, oikawa, iwaizumi

pt.1 of winning you back here!

atsumu; He still very much has all your pictures on his feed that he never deleted and never will you had to go minimal contact with him because he kept texting you every other day to try to get back together, he still loves you and thinks your gonna be his wife and that this is just a rough patch, so when you post that you’re going to be volunteering at osamu’s restaurant for a charity that osamu is doing for young kids to get into volleyball he takes it upon himself to cancel his practice for that day and go and join you two and begged and forced osamu to make you too work together so he can talk to you, and those dam miya’s being so good and weaseling there way back into life’s, it worked. You two are now talking again. You told him that you wanted to take this slow, but atsumu later that week posted a soft launch of you two at dinner.

tsukishima; tsukishima acts like he’s so nonchalant but no one’s seen him cry over how bad it’s killing him that you can fully ignore him when he’s usually the one doing that. He hates how bad he fucked up so he decided to make a plan to win you back, what does that mean he had to do? work at the same cat cafe as you, at first you weren’t on the same shifts and maybe hanging out with cats was a plus but getting crushed on by other girls wasn’t. Anyways as soon and he saw you two were on the same shift he couldn’t be more happy, it was a slow shift so he used this time to catch up and be very soft and respectful he saw you weren’t fighting back so he was thinking that was a step forward, until later on when a girl came by to order a drink and was clearly flirting with him so tsukishima ignored her, as she said “can i get your number?” you turned to see what he would do all he said was “no i have a girlfriend she’s right there actually, i don’t what gave you the confidence to think you could ask me” he said laughing which left the girl embarrassed and you flustered.

kita; Kita is forever my yearning man. He writes letters for you and sends them, you kept them all because you still didn’t get over him. He thought it was the right choice to let you go but he couldn’t have been more wrong, and I fear kita is the type to have a romantic scene like the movies. So what? anyways he comes by your hour IN THE POURING RAIN. to apologize “i’m sorry im selfish for breaking up with you yn, i just clean up well i forget myself” OOOO YOU END UP SOBBING BC WHO WOULDN'T?! anyways safe to say you kissed in the rain and he won you back

sakusa; stubborn ass ho. He was shocked when you broke things off even more when you actually stood on business, sakusa was one to keep his composure and not crashout but he couldn’t understand why he was so affected by the breakup it’s like his whole life flipped upside down. He even stopped keeping up with himself for a bit which was totally out of the norm. So when you saw him at your apartment in the lates of the night messy hair, wrinkles in his clothes looking dead you knew something was wrong, he almost felt like he could breathe again once you embraced him, disgusting and all and he didn’t let go since and tried to change for the better

oikawa; He acted happy at first like it didn’t matter because he thought you needed him more than he needed you. Oh how wrong he was, the fan girls didn’t support him the way you did, didn’t cheer for him the way you did, no one could cook as good as you, no one could get him out his depression like you could, so one night around 4am he gave you a call wanting to quit volleyball because he felt like he couldn’t do anymore without you there, which broke your heart because you saw how bad he was struggling without you there and that’s when he finally admits “I needed you more than you needed me. Come back yn, i’m sorry” and you did because you needed him just as much as he needed you.

iwaizumi; it was mutual breakup but not really he just did whatever he could to make you happy he hated fighting with you, he never deleted your pictures, he still kept all your stuff that you didn’t take at his house, he was still loyal even if you weren’t together, He blamed himself for not fighting back. he became very very career oriented that’s when he saw you at a job interview, you had just finished interviewing for the place he works at as a sports medical assistant. you weren’t aware he was working there so he stopped you and asked to get lunch since you were leaving and he was on his lunch break. That's where he apologized for not doing more and still thought about you and asked for a redo and would do anything for a second chance, and you agreed because you felt the same.

tags; @solarvrse (for the atsumu one) @sahrii (for the iwaizumi one)

[raerae2727]

When they blow up at you: multiple One Piece men x reader

You make them upset and they lose their temper + how they apologize

Includes: Ace, Kid, Law, Sanji, Crocodile, Doflamingo

GN! Reader, established relationship

Warnings: language, crocodile is neglectful and doffy is toxic, both reader and kid are lowkey toxic together, ace sanji and law’s parts are sweet tho💋

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Ace

He’s always pretty upbeat and tries not to show anger around you, but one day you make a joke that takes it too far. Your relationship had always been full of humor and you simply misunderstood what was acceptable to joke about and what wasn’t. You know you messed up when Ace goes quiet and puts his head down. You put your hand on his shoulder and frantically try to apologize, but he clearly isn’t having it as he stands and tries to walk away from you.

“Ace, wait! Listen!” You call as you try to pull him back, eager to explain yourself and properly apologize. He suddenly turns around and, in front of everyone, begins to lecture you.

“Why don’t you ever take anything seriously?”

Your guilt quickly turns to anger at the hypocrisy of Ace’s words. It always seemed to you that no joke was “too far” because of the way he so freely poked fun at you, your interests, and those you care about. How dare he pin this accusation on you?

“You’re the one who can’t take anything serious!” You respond, raising your voice louder than his.

He’s basically yelling when he responds, “At least I know where to draw the line!”

“What about all those times you made fun of me? Is it only an issue when I do it back?”

Everyone is staring at you two by this point, but all you can focus on is holding back tears when Ace yells, “I guess we just don’t go well together!” He slams his hand on the table, “Good luck finding someone else who’ll put up with you for as long as I have!”

Ashamed and heartbroken, you rush to your room and cry into your pillow. It feels like an eternity before you finally hear a knock on your door. You don’t respond but Ace opens it and lets himself in anyways, setting down his hat. He sits on the edge of your bed and breaks the silence with, “Good thing I stayed calm out there, right?”

Amazed that he still has the audacity to joke around, you sit up and scold, “Ace!”

He holds up his arms defensively. “Sorry, Sorry, I’m ready to talk about it if you are. And for the record, I love putting up with you.”

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Kid

Your relationship was always explosive because of your captain’s temper, but he must have already been on edge today because this was worse than usual. Killer wanted some rest so Kid is trying to make dinner for the crew, but he absolutely sucks at cooking. He refuses to listen to your advice and tension is growing as you continue to try and help.

“Stop being so controlling! I’m the captain here!”

The smell of burnt food is getting stronger, and you can’t help but take the pan off the burner yourself. “We’re hungry. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with just accepting help for once.” You try to keep your tone neutral to avoid a fight - which is clearly ineffective as Kid grabs you by the arm and pulls you outside of the kitchen.

“Why are you so set on embarrassing me in front of my crew!?” He shouts, gripping your shoulders.

You roll your eyes and speak calmly to make him feel like he’s overreacting. “It’s not that big of a deal. It would be more embarrassing if nobody was able to eat because your ego is too big to let me help.”

Kid is infamously bad with words, so he just responds by cursing and shoving you with much more force than intended. You go tumbling back until your head hits the wall and you fall to the floor. Kid looks shocked but before he can kneel down to help, you shoot up and shout, “What the fuck was that!?!”

“I don’t know!! Are you okay?” He yells back, panicked.

“No! I’m gonna tell Killer that you’re abusing me!” You scream, not realizing the whole ship can probably hear you two by now.

“No!” Kid responds fearfully, one-upping your volume and holding you in place by your shoulders again. “I swear I’ll always listen to you from now on! I promise! Please don’t tell on me, you know it was an accident!!”

Before you can scream back, the kitchen door swings open and you two stare at Killer like deer in headlights.

“Get in here and set the table. I knew you guys wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

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Law

Law always stretches himself too thin between working late, taking care of his crew, and making sure they don’t get themselves in too much trouble. He must have been losing a lot of sleep because of this, as he’s asking you to bring him his 4th cup of coffee today and it’s not even noon.

You tell him, “I don’t think I should do that, babe. I’m sorry. You should get some rest instead.” His under eye bags are especially dark today and his hair is messy.

“I have to get this done,” he responds calmly, though you can detect a hint of annoyance in his tone. “Can you at least get someone else to make it?”

When you go behind him and rub his shoulders, he sighs and leans back in his chair. He must be exhausted. “Please, babe?” He asks once more.

“Law, you of all people should know the importance of rest.”

He pulls away from your touch and crooks his neck to look in your eyes. “And you, of all people, should appreciate the work your captain does to keep this crew out of harm’s way.” He doesn’t yell, but the scolding tone of his voice hurts you more than yelling ever could. He stands up and walks to the kitchen, presumably to make his own coffee, and you follow behind. “Can’t you just give me some alone time for once?” He snaps.

You’re growing increasingly frustrated at Law’s stubborn attitude. “You need to rest! I’m not going to leave you alone when you’re putting your health at risk.”

“Sometimes,” he grabs you by the chin and leans in, “I have to make sacrifices for this crew. Be thankful.” You can’t help but start to tear up. His harsh words stung extra when he looked at you like that. Law lets go of you and his gaze softens when he realizes how upset he’s made you. The tone of the conversation immediately shifts. “Sorry, I-” he pauses, “I didn’t realize you cared that much.”

“Of course I care.” You cry. “I love you.” You pull him into a hug and he leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“I’ll take a nap if you promise to stop crying.” He whispers, rubbing your back.

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Sanji

“Can you add a dash of salt to the soup, love?” Asks your boyfriend. He’s recently taken to including you while he cooks, which is an honor coming from someone who takes it so seriously. He’s gentle, patient, and excessively romantic with you in every aspect of the relationship, though sometimes finds himself being a bit more firm when cooking. You waltz across the kitchen, handing over him a knife, stirring a pot, or cleaning dishes for Sanji, whose hand finds your waist each time you pass. You dip your finger into the sauce he’s making and give it a taste.

“It’s good, maybe a bit bland though,” you comment.

“Noted, head chef,” he teases back playfully while accepting your criticism and adding more seasoning. When you go to take another taste, your elbow knocks over an inconveniently placed jar of olive oil, spilling it into the sauce and all over the counter.

“Shit! I’m sorry Sanji, I’ll clean it up.” He looks a bit disappointed, but gives you a soft smile and pat on the back.

“Don’t worry love, it happens,” his tone shifts to something more firm yet still gentle, “but we only have one jar left, so try to be a bit more careful for me in the future, yea?”

“It won’t happen again, promise.” Your mistake makes you shaky with nervousness because you know how seriously Sanji takes food waste. When you reach for a towel to clean up the oil, of course you accidentally knock over a pepper shaker. It falls to the ground and shatters, pepper corns bouncing all across the floor.

Panicked, you stutter out a pleading apology while you scramble to find a broom. “Oh my god babe, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I’m so clumsy to-”

“How about you just leave the cooking to me.”

You look up, surprised at his stern voice. He doesn’t look back at you, just grips the handle of his mixing spoon angrily. Your heart drops into your stomach in shame.

“Go find someone else to help me clean up this mess, okay?” You can tell he’s trying his absolute hardest to contain his disappointment, but it’s still evident in his tone. You silently leave the kitchen, embarrassed tears stinging your eyes.

You try to calm yourself down in your room before dinner, you don’t want any of your crew mates to know about your humiliating mistakes. Not even five minutes after you had left the kitchen though, your door swings open. Sanji is on his knees with a bouquet of flowers and big puppy dog eyes looking up at you.

“I have no words to describe how sorry I am for getting upset at you. My anger was a bigger mistake than any amount of spilled food.” Your emotions quickly turn upside down and you laugh at the dramatic display.

“Sanji! I should be the one apologizing!” You run up to him and pull him into a tight hug. You reassure him, “It’s okay to get frustrated sometimes. I’m not mad!” He lets out a relieved sigh and squeezes you tight.

Smelling the bouquet, you ask, “Where did you even get these?”

“I have a stash,” and you both burst into laughter.

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Crocodile

It seems like all he does is work, and you’re fed up with it. You get so bored sitting around in Crocodile’s mansion all day while he’s locked up in his office. Luckily, he left the door ajar today and you’ll be able to force him to give you the attention you deserve. You slink through the door and hoist yourself up onto the edge of his oversized desk.

“What.” He says gruffly, not looking up from his papers.

“I’m booored,” you whine, swinging your feet, “wanna go swimming?”

Crocodile sighs and rubs his temple in annoyance, still not looking up. “Go fetch me a drink and I’ll consider it.”

“No you won’t!” You argue, “you always say that!”

He slams a fist on the table and finally looks up to meet your eyes. “Maybe I would want to spend more time with you if you weren’t so whiny! Now go!”

You’re shocked and hurt by his unexpected anger and leave defeated, looking back one last time to see him continuing his work, seemingly unbothered.

Later that night, as you’re lying in bed reading, you hear the door softly creak open. Crocodile is holding an unopened expensive perfume with a ribbon tied around it.

“I know I haven’t had a lot of time for you lately, and I’m sorry.” He sighs, setting the gift on your nightstand and undoing his tie. “We’ll go swimming next week, I promise.” He places a gentle kiss on your forehead before getting into his robe.

As you drift off to sleep, you look at the various expensive gifts he’s gotten you as apologies, knowing he will never follow through with his promises.

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Doflamingo

Making Doflamingo angry is always the last thing you want to do, but his immature sense of entitlement can be infuriating. The two of you were watching the sunset by the poolside and discussing your latest reads while waiting on a servant to bring another bottle of wine. You didn’t notice how long it was taking until he brought it up.

“What’s taking that damn worm so long?” What’s so hard about fetching a bottle of wine?” The veins in his forehead started to bulge, a telltale sign of his annoyance.

You take his hand in yours and rub your thumb into his palm, trying desperately to keep him calm. “I’m sure it’ll be here soon, Doffy. Let’s not worry about it for now - keep telling me about your book.”

He could see right through you. Any attempt at influencing his emotions always only made it worse.

“Don’t baby me. This is an act of utter insolence and I don’t know why you expect me to tolerate it.” He slaps your hand away. “I’ll give that rat a piece of my mind once it gets here.” As much as you want to just leave it at that and enjoy the rest of your evening, your unrest with Doflamingo’s behavior has been growing for weeks and you speak before you can think.

“Can’t we just have one nice evening where you don’t have to abuse someone over the tiniest thing? It’s just some wine, we’ll live.” You’re terrified to see his frown turn into a wide grin as he starts to laugh.

“Have you forgotten who I am? Who you have the privilege of being close to?” With one sweep of his arm he knocks your glass off the table, shattering it and making you jump in fear. “Get out of my sight,” He hisses.

Offended by his quick switch-up, you bargain, “Doffy, can’t we just talk abou-”

“Out!” He yells. “And that’s Young Master to you!”

You scurry inside the palace, knowing things could get ugly if you chose to stick around. You wait all night for him to come knocking on your door with a superficial apology, even a passive aggressive one, but he never shows.

That petty man child was avoiding you. A whole week goes by before you even see his face. As you’re playing chess with Diamanté (who’s even more insufferable) to pass the time, you find yourself wishing you were with Doflamingo instead. As if on cue, he struts in and ruffles your hair from behind.

“What do you say we go share a drink together, just you and me, hm?” He muses, rubbing your shoulders as if he hadn’t just disappeared for a week. Your anger towards him subsides at his touch. You know you only feel this way because of his manipulative charm, but you let yourself love Doffy anyway.

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[wordsmeetwbb]

The Chains Stay ON

Word count: 3.1k

Content: smut

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: This is my first attempt at writing smut and tbh I think it turned out really good but like. It's also pure filth that I wrote at 2am and edited this morning so consider this your warning. As always, let me know what you think!

________

Azzi couldn’t stop staring at Paige. She knew she was being obvious, she knew people online would clip this entire event and dissect every interaction, but she couldn’t help herself. Paige looked fucking incredible.

The team had gone to a Connecticut Sun game tonight, and Azzi truly felt bad about her lack of attention to the actual game thus far. Somehow, she had gotten through the whole bus ride to the arena without interacting with Paige, but that ended quickly as the team took their seats, with Paige plopping down in the seat right next to Azzi.

Azzi’s eyes had a mind of their own, roaming over Paige’s face, down to her arms, her chest, and always dragging back to her neck where two silver chains rested. Azzi swallowed thickly.

“Hello? Az, are you even listening to me?” Paige snapped her fingers in front of Azzi’s face. She blinked, startled out of her visual perusal of Paige’s body.

“Uh, yeah? No. What?” Paige snorted.

“You’re so not locked in right now. If you were looking at me I would be like, fine, whatever, but you’re not! Pay attention to me!” Paige complained. Azzi swatted her arm.

“Oh, hush. I pay you plenty of attention. If you really loved me, you’d give me a break and go whine to somebody else for once.” Lies. Azzi was lying through her teeth. She didn’t want Paige to go anywhere. She wanted the blonde to stay in the seat right next to her so Azzi could continue to stare at how those silver chains rested against her throat, draping down to sit between her collarbones. She blinked again, trying to pull herself out of the Paige-induced haze so she could actually listen to her girlfriend.

“Hey, what’s up with you? You’re not listening to me,” Paige whined again. Correct. Azzi hadn’t even realized Paige was still talking. She was too busy looking at her to practice active listening. Azzi blushed. Paige’s eyebrows raised.

“You gonna tell me, or do I have to pry it out of you?” Azzi sighed dramatically, slumping back into her seat. Against her will, her eyes wandered right back to Paige’s neck. She wanted to kiss her way down the skin there hard enough to leave bruises where the chains rested. The brunette crossed her legs, too aware of the warmth between them.

Paige looked down at herself, trying to follow Azzi’s line of sight. Azzi sighed loudly again, blushing a deep, embarrassing shade of pink. Paige was so adorable when she was confused, but she needed her to understand faster so she didn’t have to explain what had her so hot and bothered.

“Paige,” Azzi said firmly.

“What? Baby, I don’t know what you’re looking at. I just know you’re blushing real pretty right now and I want to know why.” Azzi couldn’t stand it anymore. She looked Paige right in the eyes, fisting her hands in her lap so they wouldn’t get any ideas and reach up to touch the chains that were taunting her so badly. She took a deep breath, taking a little glance around to make sure none of their teammates were listening too closely to what they were talking about.

“You look… really hot with those chains on,” Azzi mumbled, face flushing an even darker shade of red.

“Baby, what? It’s loud as hell in here, I didn’t get any of that.” Azzi wanted a sinkhole to open up under Mohegan Sun and swallow them all so she didn’t have to repeat that sentence. Lord knows Paige’s ego didn’t need to hear it twice. She wished she could just whisper it into Paige’s ear, but the chance of somebody in the crowd recording it was too high. She groaned and leaned only slightly closer to Paige.

“You look hot with those chains on,” she said, with more volume in her voice this time. She wasn’t letting there be any chance of Paige making her say it a third time.

A hint of surprise fluttered over Paige’s face, but it was quickly replaced with that all-too-familiar smirk. Azzi would never tell Paige, but it made her squeeze her legs together just a little bit tighter.

“You like them, baby?” Paige murmured, voice somehow loud enough for Azzi to hear her over the noise of the arena. It made her think that Paige definitely heard her the first time and just wanted to make her suffer. Azzi gave up and let her head fall into her hands dramatically. Paige poked her shoulder, waiting for confirmation. Azzi knew that being in public was saving her from having to reply for real. She nodded into her hands.

“Hey, come back up here. I love it when you blush like that for me. So pretty, baby.” Azzi was going to die in Mohegan Sun at the ripe age of 21. She took a deep breath, praying that she had composed herself enough for the whole world not to know just how turned on she was right now. She straightened back up, trying to pretend like she was paying any kind of attention to the basketball game.

“There you go, good girl.” Azzi whacked Paige on the knee.

“Stop it. Stop or I’m gonna do something inappropriate in a very public place with lots of cameras, and then we won’t be private or a secret,” Azzi hissed. Paige just laughed. The audacity of this girl to look the way she did, get Azzi all turned on, tease her in public, and then laugh? She scowled at Paige. Paige shut up.

“Az, wait, I’m sorry for laughing. You’re sitting here all turned on, staring at me, and I’m being an ass.” This is genuinely one of the worst apologies Azzi has ever heard. The lack of amusement on her face must be as obvious as it feels because Paige starts backtracking.

“Azzi, baby, look at me. Please.” Azzi doesn’t have it in herself to disobey. And who is she to pass up a chance to look at Paige right now? God, she looks sinfully good.

“I shouldn’t have laughed at you. That’s my bad. I’m gonna make it up to you, I swear,” Paige promises, looking very sincere. Azzi raises her eyebrows skeptically.

“How are you gonna do that?” She questions. A grin spreads across Paige’s face.

“You said you like the chains, right? Got you all wet and needy?” Azzi wants to protest, but Paige isn’t wrong. “I see you with your legs crossed, ma, you’re not subtle.”

“I’m not seeing how this is you making anything up to me-” Azzi starts, but Paige interrupts her.

“You want me to fuck you with the chains on, baby?” Fuck. Just the words have Azzi absolutely dripping. She almost lets a whimper slip out, but clamps her mouth shut at the last minute.

“Yes,” she whispers. Paige looks entirely too satisfied with the way this conversation has turned out. Infuriatingly, it just turns Azzi on more. Damn this woman.

“Didn’t know the NIL money would come with this benefit,” Paige muses. Azzi is in her own personal hell.

“I need you to shut up. Immediately. Yesterday,” Azzi demands. Paige snorts.

“Yes, ma’am.”

________

Azzi doesn’t know what Paige told Jana and Allie or where the two girls went upon the team’s return to campus. Frankly, she doesn’t care. All she cares about is that Paige’s bedroom door is locked swiftly and the apartment beyond it is empty.

Paige is on Azzi as soon as the door is closed, shoving her up against the wood and trailing kisses from her mouth to her jaw to her neck. Actually, it’s more like Paige licking her way down Azzi’s skin. Either way, it feels incredible.

“Please, please,” she mumbles. She’s already begging, although she’s not entirely sure what for.

“Shh ma, just hold on. I’m gonna get you right, don’t you even worry,” Paige reassures Azzi against her skin. Something about it reminds Azzi of her thoughts from earlier. She lifts her head away from the door, trailing her eyes down to where Paige is mouthing at her collarbones, just above the neckline of her tank top. In a feat of pure willpower, Azzi flips their positions so Paige is the one pressed against the door. Paige gasps and immediately starts to protest. “Just shut the hell up,” Azzi demands as she begins to place wet kisses across Paige’s jaw. Her skin is warm and Paige smells so good, as she always does. Azzi’s mouth reaches the hinge of Paige’s jaw and she nips at the skin softly, not hard enough to bruise. Paige groans.

“God, baby, feels so good. Mark me the fuck up.” Azzi pushes her surprise away in favor of getting back to work. Who would she be to pass up a rare opportunity to claim her girlfriend? She bites a little harder at the spot from before, then licks over it with her tongue when Paige moans. Encouraged, Azzi makes her way down Paige’s neck, sucking in some places and biting in others, until Paige’s neck is riddled with red and purple splotches and covered in Azzi’s saliva.

Azzi finally pulls back to look at her handiwork, incredibly satisfied with herself. Paige looks desperate. Her neck glistened from Azzi’s mouth, her pupils were blown so wide her blue irises were barely visible, and she had tugged her hair free from the bun it had been in. She’s panting, staring at Azzi with unrestrained want. Azzi lets her focus go back to Paige’s neck. The silver chains glistening there really do look pretty against the newly mottled skin. She swallows, letting her hand drift up to play with the metal, warmed by Paige’s body.

Paige seems to have finally had enough teasing, because the next thing Azzi knows, she’s on her back in the middle of Paige’s bed.

“Off, off, I want these off,” Paige is saying, hands pulling at Azzi’s clothes. It’s not like she was wearing much of anything to begin with, just a tank top and a pair of too-short denim shorts, but within seconds the fabric is gone from her body, leaving her only in a pair of lace panties. The cool air makes Azzi shiver, nipples perking up from the chill.

Paige’s focus zeroes in on her tits, tongue immediately coming to lick over one nipple, hand squeezing the other gently, then pinching the nipple. Azzi gasps. It feels incredible, but this is not what she’s been thinking about all day. She tugs Paige back up to eye level, bringing their lips back together. Paige’s tongue is immediately against Azzi’s, but Azzi is mumbling demands.

“You gotta get naked too,” she whines, voice far more breathy than she wants it to be, but if Paige didn’t already know how needy she was, Azzi had bigger issues than what she sounded like. Paige’s clothes were off in seconds, leaving her in boxers and her sports bra. And those irresistible chains, of course. Still more clothes than Azzi in just her panties, but definitely an improvement.

Paige’s hand came down to Azzi’s stomach, fingers brushing over her abs teasingly on their way down to where Azzi was aching for her.

“Paige, please,” she pleaded.

“Please, what, baby? Gotta tell me what you want.” Azzi was going to cry if Paige didn’t touch her in the next five seconds. It’s that desperation that makes her give in immediately. She doesn’t have the willpower to resist Paige today.

“Touch me, please baby. Need your fingers on me, please, please, need it so bad-” Azzi cuts herself off with a moan when Paige presses her fingers over Azzi’s clothed clit. Her eyes roll back, but fly back open when she feels cold metal bump against her chin. “Fuck. Oh, fuck.” It seems to be the only word she can remember as Paige’s chains dangle in her face.

“There you go, baby. Is that better?” It’s not, really. Paige isn’t moving her fingers, and she’s still not really touching Azzi. Just that teasing presence over the fabric of her panties. Azzi bucks her hips against Paige’s hand in an effort to get what she wants.

“Is this not enough, baby? I’m touching you. What do you want?” Azzi is going to scream if Paige keeps this cocky attitude up and doesn’t fuck her like she needs. She almost gets sassy with her response until Paige moves her fingers against her clit, rubbing slow little circles over the fabric. Azzi groans, so hopelessly soaked through her underwear that the lace is practically see-through.

“Fuck. Please, Paige, please just fuck me. I need your fingers inside, please. Gotta feel it, need it, please.” She sounds pathetic, she knows. Paige doesn’t usually make her beg like this, but god, being forced to say exactly what she wants is doing sinful things to Azzi.

“I got you, good girl, so good begging for me,” Paige praises. Azzi’s head flops back onto the pillow and she immediately misses the light presence of the chains in her face. It’s quickly forgotten as Paige pulls Azzi’s panties off, throwing them somewhere to the side of the bed in favor of quickly slipping one finger into Azzi’s pussy.

“Fuck, baby, so wet for me. You feel that?” Paige already sounds like she’s going crazy, her voice hoarse and low. Azzi can barely focus on the words the blonde is saying. She’s too busy squirming closer to Paige’s hand, trying to get that singular finger deeper inside of her. She needs more and Paige is too busy talking to give it to her.

“Shh, honey, just relax. I gotchu, you know that,” Paige soothes, leaning down to press soft kisses to Azzi’s lips. The action drags the chains against Azzi’s face in the most delightful way. It almost makes Azzi miss the way Paige’s finger starts to move inside her, dragging out and then pushing right back in slowly. She moans desperately, still wiggling against Paige. She needs her deeper, faster, more fingers, anything.

“More, please, Paige, I can take another,” she begs. Paige finally obliges her, sliding another finger in alongside the first and continuing to fuck in and out of Azzi’s pussy. Azzi moans. One of her hands drifts up, tangling in the hair at the nape of Paige’s neck. Then it drifts down, sliding over the fresh hickeys on her throat that are getting darker by the minute. Her hand finally comes to rest on the silver chains, fingers wrapping around the strands of metal just for something to hold onto. Her eyes won’t leave the way they gleam against Paige’s skin, swinging back and forth as Paige’s arm moves.

Between her legs, Azzi can feel her wetness dripping onto the bed. She knows Paige’s hand is probably drenched, and that mental image only makes her wetter.

“There you go, baby. Doin’ so good for me, taking me so well. Fuck, look at you. Fucking soaked, Az. Can you hear that?” Paige takes a break from her fuck-drunk rambling so Azzi can hear the sound her body makes when Paige’s fingers slide in and out. It even sounds like she’s drenched. Azzi throws her head back on the pillow again, pulling Paige’s chains right along with her. Paige follows her down, licking a stripe up Azzi’s neck while she’s there.

“Gettin’ close, ma?” Azzi nods desperately, feeling her stomach get tighter with every stroke of Paige’s fingers into her sopping wet center. “Fuck, yeah, I know you are. Squeezing me so tight, baby. Just sucking me up. Need me that bad, right baby?” Paige’s thumb drags circles around Azzi’s clit. She lets out a high whine. Paige has yapped for every minute of her life, she’s sure, but the absolute filth she’s saying right now has Azzi teetering right on the edge of her climax, biting her lip, and her stomach tenses.

“Let go, Az. Just relax and let yourself cum. All over me, baby, come on. Want it dripping down my hand. Please, I know you’re almost there.” Paige’s words, begging her to come, combined with the feeling of her damned silver chains dragging against Azzi’s throat now that she’s released her grip on them, send her over the edge.

Azzi cums with a cry, high-pitched moans and Paige’s name falling from her lips. Paige fucks her through it, fingers still moving inside her, thumb still circling her clit until Azzi is trembling from overstimulation, begging Paige to stop.

“Please, please, too much, Paige-” Azzi pushes Paige’s hand away from her, collapsing against the mattress, panting as she tries to recover. When she forces her eyes open to look at her girlfriend, Azzi finds Paige already staring at her. Her pupils are still blown wide, her body glistening with sweat, her hair messy (probably Azzi’s fault), and she thinks Paige has never looked hotter.

“What?” Azzi demands softly. “I’ll get you in a minute, don’t worry,” she promises. Paige shakes her head and melts into Azzi, wrapping her in her pale arms.

“Did so good for me, baby. So good,” she mumbles into Azzi’s collarbones. Azzi’s hand comes up to brush through Paige’s hair gently, a smile falling onto her lips, blushing lightly at the praise. Paige was starting to crush her under her weight, but it felt so good that she kept quiet, one hand moving down from Paige’s hair to stroke up and down her back.

“Hey, let me take care of you now,” Azzi said, starting to roll herself out from under Paige. Paige just tightened her arms.

“In a minute. That was so hot. You’re so hot. Everything about that was just… really insanely hot. I think I’m buffering. Give me a minute,” Paige mumbled into Azzi’s skin. Azzi laughed, bringing a hand to Paige’s chin and tilting her face up to meet her eyes.

“That was really hot,” she agreed. Paige grinned.

“I should wear chains more often,” she mused. Azzi groaned, letting Paige’s face drop back into the crook of her neck.

“I swear, I can’t tell you anything.” She complained. Paige just laughed, and Azzi couldn’t do anything but laugh with her. Of course Paige would give her the best orgasm of her life and her takeaway from the experience would be fashion advice. Azzi couldn’t argue with the idea, though. She sighed.

“As long as the chains stay on during sex,” she agreed.

“Hell yeah. High five, dude.” Azzi groaned and pushed Paige away.

“Shut up or I’m not helping you get off.” Paige shut up.

[puckinghischier]

Nico looking stressed, grumpy and pissed off lately. He would def take out all that on reader if they gave him permission to do so. God he would become a whole different person in bed 😵‍💫🫠

“just say the word, and i promise it all stops. it all starts and ends with you,” he’d check just one more time you’re sure, almost feeling guilty for what he’s about to do.

“swear on my life, neeks. give me everything you’ve got. please,” you whine and squirm, his outburst on the ice earlier planting a seed in your brain only he can grow.

his eyes darken, your pleas all he needs to spur him on, slamming into you so hard you see stars, gripping your hips with a bruising pressure.

he gives you no warnings, no recovery, just slamming into you over and over again, every ounce of anger he felt on the ice being transferred to your body.

your body jolts with each thrust, thankful the two of you won the argument for a plush headboard in this exact moment. his grunts are animalistic and guttural, never having heard sounds like this from him before. they make your body melt into his even more, not having enough brain power to think about the implications of why this is all so hot for you.

“swear, just can’t get them to do anything right. s’like trying to teach monkeys how to play hockey,” he grunts, using the physical outlet to purge the mental frustrations as well. “s’like i’m the only one on that ice that gives a shit about anything. they won’t shoot, won’t block, aren’t there for passes. a bunch of idiotic fucks.”

you would respond, but the moment you open your mouth, his fingers immediately fill the space. you swirl your tongue around the digits, sucking lightly. the action earns a particularly deep groan, throwing his head back like it’s the most erotic thing he’s ever experienced.

“don’t wanna hear anything other than my name from these pretty little lips, got it?” his eyes bore down onto yours, waiting for your small nod of agreement. “if i can’t get the performance from the guys i want, you’re gonna give me the performance i want in here.”

his command wasn’t even that harsh or demanding, but you’ll be damned if it didn’t make your eyes nearly roll back into your head. when he slips his fingers from your mouth his names becomes the only word in your vocabulary. repeated over and over and over again, never stopping.

you can feel his grip on your hips tighten, making you wonder how many purple splotches you’ll be able to count tomorrow morning. his thrusts get more aggressive as your whines of his name get louder and louder, teetering on the edge of pathetic, but you don’t care.

he thrusts into you the harshest and deepest he has yet, and it causes your body to erupt into the most intense bliss you’ve ever felt, feeling nico’s own body still and his deep voice cry out a loud “FUCK!”

you convulse and shake beneath him, wondering when the waves of pleasure are gonna stop. nico’s still hovered above you, blinking his eyes in a daze.

he pulls his softening dick out of you, a whimper escaping your still shaking body. the waves of pleasure are still subsiding when he climbs off the bed, returning a few seconds later with a warm washcloth and a fresh pair of boxers on.

when he goes to clean you up, you whine and whimper at how sensitive you are, nico’s soft ‘shhhs’ not doing much to calm you.

he crawls into bed beside of you, lifting the bed sheet to cover your bare body, pulling you against him.

“y’alright, sweet girl?” nico whispers as he nudges his nose into your neck, back to his sweet and attentive self. you hum back a “mhmmm,” nestling into his warm body.

you can feel him smirk into your skin, his rumbling voice causing goosebumps to rise. “didn’t realize y’liked when i’m so rough. maybe we should explore this more often.”

the thought brings another whine from your throat, wanting to roll over away from him, but you’re trapped in his arms, any kind of movement impossible.

“god, let a girl recover a bit, yeah? think my vagina is gonna fall off if you put those images in my head right now.”

nico erupts in full on belly laughter, amused at this new discovery. “well not right now, no. just…gonna keep it in mind anytime i try to tell myself not to get too worked up during a game. might…slip and let a hit or two through if i know this is what i have waiting on me when i get home.”

and when he see’s the hand sized bruises on your hips the next day, rushing out apologies and peppering kisses over the purple skin, you assure him you’re fine, seeing the small glint in his eyes at the physical reminder of last night, you know that his penalty minutes are about to sky rocket.

[azzifuddfanpage]

All I want for Christmas is You

Thanks for the prompt 😛 2.1k words

themes: Christmas? Idk

tw: smut

prompt: This is around now/ them being in a relationship. The wholes team is kinda sulky and grey after losing USC even thought it’s almost Christmas. They are all just chilling in the dorms, playing video games, chatting, and packing up for the break. Azzi decides to surprise Paige with an earlier Christmas gift. She calls her over and reveals her festive lingerie. Paige is obviously gooning and immediately shuts the door. (go all out with the scene I didn’t have any l ideas 💀)After a while they realize they went a little crazy and are defiantly gonna have to wash themselves up… and the sheets. “Paige why are you cleaning the sheets right before your leaving for home?”- a teammate asks.        -😛

The entire media conference after the game was brutal. Paige sat there and was professional but wanted nothing more than to wrap herself up in Azzi’s arms. 

After 3 years of dating, they had been closer than ever. Azzi was the only one who knew how to make her feel better-way better- after a loss. 

When they were back in the dorms, everyone was just chilling in the living room of the suite. 

Paige sat with Ice and Kk playing fortnite trying to get her mind off of the loss.

Paige was one to take the loss personally so she would do everything she could to get her mind off of it.

“Hey do you know where Azzi is?” Paige asked as she went for another kill. 

“She’s still with the trainer.” Ice replied shortly as she continued fiddling with the remote. Distracted, paige handed off the remote to sarah who happily took over for her.

Paige missed Azzi, bad, the longer they had been dating the more needy Paige had found herself for her. 

Paige slumped onto the couch behind them facing Azzi’s bedroom door, and pulled out her phone. 

—-

Me: wya I miss u😕

💗: I’m at the trainer I’ll be home soon Paigey 

Me: 😐

💗: it will be worth the wait trust me I have a surprise for u 

Ur gonna like it a lot trust me….

—-

It looked like the day was gonna be looking up.

30 minutes later, the front door opened and Paige immediately whipped her head around to make eyes with Azzi. 

Paige immediately stood up and ran to Azzi wrapping her arms around her waist tightly and snuggling into the crook of her neck. 

“Missed you so much baby.” She said as she breathed in the smell of her coconut shampoo and vanilla perfume. 

Paige looked down and saw Azzi was carrying a black and pink bag. Her eyes perked up. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Paige whispered teasingly while attaching her lips to Azzi’s neck making her giggle. 

“Maybe… but you’re gonna have to wait a few minutes so I can get your present all set up.” Azzi responded moving her hand up to play with paige’s blonde hair that had fallen into her face as she clung to her. 

“Present? What for?” Paige said eagerly trying to snoop in the bag.

“Paige! Be patient, no peaking. It’s just an early Christmas gift. Just stay here and I will call you in when I’m ready.” Azzi replied pulling away from paige and walking to the bedroom. 

Paige smirked and walked over to the couch as she watched Azzi walk into the bedroom. 

Paige spread her legs a little as Azzi turned around watching as Azzi blushed her eyes darting to her clothed center. 

Azzi then put a finger to her lips and disappeared into her bedroom.

Paige felt her panties dampen in anticipation on what Azzi had planned for her. 

The longer Azzi took the more needy she became.

10 long minutes later she heard Azzi call out.

“Paige can you come help me in here?” Paige bolted up and brusquely but nonchalantly (or so she thought) to Azzi’s room.

“Fuck guess I need to grab my headphone” ice said laughing as Paige shut Azzi’s door behind her. They weren’t exactly quiet.

Inside Azzi’s room paige walked in to the bed and felt two hands creep around the back of her head covering her eyes. 

“Guess who” Azzi smirked behind her

“Hmmm I don’t know Q?” Paige said teasingly. 

“Alright you’re not getting your present after that one.” Azzi laughed as paige hungrily turned around. 

“Where is it?” Paige said as she looked at Azzi who was wearing her pink fluffy robe. 

“Get on the bed and I’ll show you.” Azzi said dominantly giving her a shove so she would fall backwards.

Paige crawled up to the headboard and turned around so she was facing Azzi watching her in awe.

Azzi slowly reached for the tie of her robe and began to undo the knot.

Paige felt her breath hitch as she watched the pink fluffy robe slide down Azzi’s shoulders and drop onto the floor.

Paiges eyes scanned Azzi’s body in adoration.

She was weary a silver and red lingerie set that was lacy and completely mesh. 

Paige thought her eyes were going to bulge out of her head at the sight of Azzi’s perky nipples poking through the thin shear fabric. 

Suddenly paige found herself extremely needy for Azzi’s touch.

“You’re so beautiful Azzi.” Paige said her eyes continuing to stare at her body.

Azzi smirked as she climbed onto the bed and crawled towards Paige.

Azzi pushes her shoulders so she is now fully laying on her back on the bed.

Azzi sits up staring down on her, straddling her legs.

She leans forward and starts to press soft kisses along her jaw and neck.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world.” Azzi says in between kisses as Paige lets out a soft sigh. 

Azzi moves her hands downwards, lips still connected to Paige’s neck, and tugs on her t shirt.

Paige puts her hands up instinctively and Azzi slides it off her, immediately coming in contact with her soft nipples hardening under Azzi’s gaze.

“Wow no bra? Someone was ready for this, huh?” Azzi laughs as she connects her hands and begins to massage Paige’s chest. 

“Wanted to be ready for your surprise.” Paige whispers eagerly as she pulls Azzi’s face in to kiss her.

Paige’s hunger for Azzi’s skin is almost bubbling as she runs her tongue along Azzi’s bottom lip. She attaches her teeth and pulls watching Azzi lean towards her needily, letting out a breathy moan. 

Azzi starts to grind her hips against Paige’s pelvis begging for friction. 

Azzi leans back placing her hand on Paiges thighs as she arches her back and grinds down on Paige’s thighs.

A groan leaves paige’s mouth as she searches desperately for more contact.

She opens her eyes and watches in aw as Azzi gently grinds back and forth on her. 

“Please.” Paige moans noticing the damp spot on Azzi’s panties. 

“You need more baby?” Azzi says seductively as she begins to slide down paige’s pants continuing to ride her.

Paige lets out a yelp, biting her lip as Azzi presses her knee against paige’s clit. 

“Oh god.” Paige groans as she throws her head back.

Azzi leans forward laying her chest on Paige as she continues to apply pressure on her pussy. 

She starts to press kisses against her tits, sucking on her nipples and blowing as she starts to feel the slick accumulate in between them. 

Paige moans loudly against Azzi’s chest.

“Shh! Paige you have to be quiet we don’t need anymore complaints.” Azzi teases as paige rolls her eyes.

“Haha very funny, if I remember right it was your screaming that had caroline running in thinking you were dying.” Paige replies still out of breath. Azzi returns the eyeroll and presses her hand against paige’s mouth to shut her up.

Paige spreads her legs wider giving Azzi more access to grind against her. 

After what felt like hours of Azzi’s rubbing against her clit paige could barely keep herself together.

“Azzi please” she groaned “need to cum please.”

Azzi giggled to herself at her girlfriend’s fucked out state. 

“Look at me baby.” Azzi said dominantly “I want you to watch me while you cum.” 

Paiges eyes immediately popped open entranced by Azzi staring directly back at her. 

Azzi’s eyes alone were enough to make her cum, and when Azzi started picking up the pace, rubbing herself against paige more aggressively, paige could no longer contain her cum, letting her juices spill out of her and onto the bed sheets as she moaned.

As Azzi continued to grind against her, riding out her high, paige began to rub her fingers teasingly over her panties watching as Azzi’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, already stimulated by her grinding against paige. 

Paige watched Azzi intently focused on Azzi’s body.

As paige began to apply more pressure Azzi lifted her hips now hovering over paige’s stomach kneeling so her legs were seperated enough for paige to access her clit.

Azzi let out a raspy moan, and Paige pulled her panties to the side desperately needing to be in contact with her wetness.

Azzi’s warm heat coated her fingers as she rubbed back and forth against her pussy. 

Azzi leaned over to stabilize herself as Paige stuffed two fingers inside her tight hole. 

Paige began to thrust in and out of her stabilizing her by holding onto her waist. 

As she felt Azzi’s legs shake she flipped them over so she was now on top. 

With her new angle she pounded furiously into Azzi’s pussy, using her thumb to rub at her clit. 

Azzi continued to moan loudly pulling at paige’s hair, thrusting her hips so paige’s fingers would dig deeper in her core.

Paiges fingers plunging into her gummy walls caused Azzi to shake with pleasure. 

Hearing Azzi’s frustrated moans as she tried to rub herself against paige’s fingers.

Paige paused, watching as Azzi whimpered and squirmed deserpeate for her fingers to restart their pounding. 

Azzi started trying to fuck herself on Paige’s fingers, desperate to reach her climax.

Just as Azzi let out another needy moan, paige plunged another finger in, pounding 3 in and out of her.

Paige uses her other hand to rub her clit, before pressing gently on her lower stomach.

With that Azzi feels the band in her stomach snap, and feels her cum spill out of her joining paige’s on the sheets

They go back and forth pleasing each other until they are just a heap of moans unable to catch their breath.

The sheets are soaked with sweat and their cum.

“Guess we may have over done it.” Azzi laughed her head laying in the sheets. 

“Nahh don’t know what you’re talking about.” Paige replied cheekily. 

They lay there nuzzled together for a little longer but eventually Azzi could no longer stand it.

“Alright I gotta shower and you have got to wash these sheets like this is just embarrassing I feel like I wet the bed.” Azzi huffed trying to sit up with Paige’s lengthy body weighing her down. 

“I mean you kinda did.” Paige said trying to hide her giggle as Azzi glared at her and hitting her over the head with a pillow.

“Says you!” She shot back as she crawled out of paige’s grasp and stood up.

“We are leaving tomorrow morning early, if you don’t wash the sheets now they will be worse when we get back.” Azzi said as paige fell back onto the bed.

“Ughhhh” she whined, “I know I know I have to clean them. But I literally just did like 2 days ago… “ paige whined as she sat back up and grabbed Azzi’s hand.

“I don’t like when you shower without me.” Paige pouted fluttering her eyelashes teasingly. 

Azzi shoved her face with her hand laughing, “you’re such a freak paige oh my god.” She pauses for a minute. “If you go clean the sheets we will see what happens.” Azzi says shrugging leaving the room so paige can ponder that. 

Paige makes the executive decision it would be a good idea to see where things that night might lead with Azzi so she strips the bed and makes a pile to bring to the laundry.

Paige is fantasizeing about all the things Azzi might have planned since she is being a “good girl” and cleaning the sheets like Azzi asked her, when she hears a knock. 

“Back so soon” Paige teases assuming Azzi couldn’t resist her… it was Aubrey. 

“Uhm sorry, not who you were hoping, I just had a quick-“ Aubrey looks down at paige piling her sheets into her hamper, “you know what I’m gonna just ask Ice it’s fine.” She trials off. “Why are you washing your sheets paige?” She teases knowing exactly what it means. 

“What do you mean? I can’t wash my sheets now?” Paige replied confused. 

“You just changed them like two days ago? And we are leaving for vacation it’s not like you will be sleeping on them anytime soon.” 

Paige smirked, “well they got dirty quick I guess.” 

Aubrey stares at her a little confused then Azzi walks in the room and the pieces click.

Her eyes widen, “y’all are nasty” Aubrey says laughing running out of the room, likely to go tell Ice and Kk.

Azzi looks at Paige confused. 

“What did I do?” Azzi says softly her big eyes staring at Paige, and paige can’t help but melt under her adorable eyes. 

“She’s just jealous baby don’t worry.” paige says pulling her into a hug and rubbing her hand on her back. 

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙃𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝘽𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙙*

Pairing: Changbin x Reader (GN)

Genre: Comfort?

Warnings: Slight mentions of depression and anxiety. That’s about it. Sorry for any mistakes

A/N: This has been in my idea folder for so freaking long! This was 100% inspired by “Must have been the wind by Alec Benjamin” such a good song! I hope yall enjoy this!

-🖤

Neither of you really knew each other. Only exchanging pleasantries as you passed by one another. Always a small waves and a smile. You’ve barely even said a few words to one another in the almost year living in the same building. You both keeping to yourselves.

He’s noticed in the past few days of seeing you that you don’t seem yourself. Or at least the small bit of yourself that he knew of. You have seemed really down lately. He even caught you wiping your tears away when he had stepped into the elevator as you got out. He wanted to ask if you were alright but you quickly left the elevator before he could.

His apartment was right above yours he could always hear you talking softly or listening to music. It made him almost calm hearing another person at times.

He hadn’t seen you leave today like normal. You both always leaving for work about the same time. When he had gotten back from work later than normal plopping on his bed he let out a sigh. The quietness becoming deafening around him. The quiet didn’t last long, soft sobs could be heard from below. He knew it was you, he wanted so badly to make sure you were alright. He didn’t know why he cared so much but he did. Maybe it was the way your smile brightened his day. Or the way he secretly hopes to see you before work. You’ve become a daily joy in his life and to hear you crying made him upset.

He got up pacing back in forth wondering what he should do. Would it be weird to check in on you? After the back and forth in his mind he finally made it up. He was gonna check on you.

He knocked on your door, a thousand things running through his mind on what to say. When you finally answered he could see how red your eyes were. Tear stains still lingering on your flushed face. “Uh hi” he said nervously.

“Hi” you said softly back looking anywhere but his face.

“Listen I know we don’t know each other but I could.. hear you crying. Are you alright?” He stammered out.

“I- I uhm wasn’t crying.. must have.. been the wind or something” you lied.

He studied your face for a second knowing damn well that you were lying. You felt embarrassed. You didn’t like crying around anyone, feeling like a burden if you weren’t always just happy.

“Well if you want to talk I’m here” he said with a soft smile. His kind words really jabbing at you. Why was he being so nice? He didn’t know you, he didn’t have to come down. But he did. He came down to basically a total strangers place to see if they were ok. Just the pure sweetness of this made the tears flow again.

His eyes went wide his body moving before he could stop himself. He wrapped his arms around you as you cried making you sob even harder. He rubbed your back letting you get it all out. He pushed your door closed behind him, to make sure no one else would walk by.

“Ssh sh it’s alright, you’re alright” he said softly still rubbing your back. “Wanna go sit down? You can tell me all about what’s wrong if you want. No judgement. I’m here to listen” he said with that sweet smile you’ve grown fond of.

You nodded bringing him over to your couch. As you composed yourself you sighed softly. “Nothings really wrong, I mean.. it’s just..” you tried finding the words. “I have really bad depression and anxiety.. it’s just been really bad the last few days and it all just came crashing down today.” You admitted.

He listened taking your hand in his to comfort you a bit. “You still got up today though, you’re still here and that’s something to be proud of” he said.

His words comforted you even more, making you smile for the first time in a few days. He sounded so genuine.

“And I can knock another one off if you wanna” he said smiling. You looked at him a bit confused. “How about I treat you to some ice cream? Then you’ll have eaten today.. I guess it’s not food food but ice cream makes everything better” he says smiling even bigger.

“You don’t have to do that” you said.

“I know but I want to, plus means we can get to know each other more. Yeah?” He said hopeful.

“Alright” you said smiling at him.

You got yourself together wiping your face and putting on better clothes. “Oh hey, by the way, I’m changbin” he said.

“We really never introduced ourselves huh? I’m y/n” you said.

“Well y/n shall we get some ice cream?” He said putting his hand out.

“We shall.” You giggled.

After this day you both had become really close. Making movie nights and gaming nights. You both always hung out even just coming over to one another’s house to sit in comfortable silence. It was nice. Nice to have someone to talk, nice to have someone there that wouldn’t judge and just be there.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[russo-woso]

i was thinking maybe a fic or blurb of y/n and foxy where reader is a singer and wrote a song about emily (song being pov by ariana grande) and before she releases it she brings emily to the studio to get her opinion, purely because it’s about her and their love.. emily loves the song and just like a cute fluffy fic where they’re both just completely in love with eachother

It’s about me? || Emily Fox x reader

Masterlist

Summary You bring Emily to the studio to get her reaction about a song you’ve written about her

A/N this anon sent a follow up request asking for the song to be The alchemy not pov :)

“Baby, why are here? You’ve finished your album now.” Emily asked, the two of you in the car heading for the studio.

Emily was right, you had completely finished your upcoming album, but there was a specific reason why you were bringing her today.

There was one song that you desperately wanted to see her reaction on - The alchemy.

It was one of those songs where you had randomly come up with a beat, and the lyrics came naturally to you.

The song was based on someone, it was based on Emily.

You had been seeing Emily for seven months and to say you couldn’t be more in love was an understatement.

You had a reputation of writing break up songs, having gone through a few rough relationships in your time so you always assumed writing a love song would be hard, but it was the complete opposite.

Your mind was solely focused on Emily in the moments you were writing it and within twenty minutes, you had a fully complete song with a beat and lyrics.

That’s when your producer knew you were fully and madly in love with Emily.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” You responded to Emily, sending her a playful smile as she groaned.

“I wanna know now.”

“Baby, it’s a surprise. I’m not telling you. We’ll be there in five minutes anyway.”

—

“There’s one more song.” You announced to Emily as she grinned.

You got up and inside the booth, getting the microphone ready.

“I’m gonna sing it live for you.”

“Is this my surprise?”

“Maybe.” You said, sending her a wink as your producer pressed the play button for the background music.

You sang the song perfectly, watching Emily’s face carefully as the realisation that it was about her set in.

“What did you think about that one?”

“Baby…” Emily began, your body filling with dread.

Maybe it was too soon to make a song about her.

Did she not like it?

“I don’t have to put it in the album if you don’t—”

“—No, baby, no. I loved it. I love you. It was perfect.” Emily reassured you, pressing soft kisses to your lips. “You’re perfect.”

“So are you, Em. I mean a girl has to be perfect for me to write a song about her.” You joked, wrapping your arm around her waist.

“I’m that special, huh?”

“So so special.”

[psychoticbipolarbear]

Gifts

pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

summary: You and Spencer broke up two years ago, but now you received a gift on the anniversary of the biggest tragedy of your lives, so you give him a visit to confront him.

word count: 1.5k

tags: fem!reader, mention of a child's death

Birthday. Halloween. Christmas. Anniversary. Pi Day. Doctor Who Day. 

Flowers. Small presents. Sometimes both. 

It’s been almost two years since you and Spencer agreed to end your relationship, yet he keeps sending you stuff. There is usually a card with SR on it, but there is no other message. You never really understood why he keeps sending them, but you aren’t about to give him the satisfaction of showing interest. You just throw them out. Each and every one of them.

Today you find another gift on your doorstep, wrapped in shiny blue paper, decorated with a big white bow on the top and, of course, it has the usual card tucked under the bow. You haven’t received a present on this particular day before, this is a first, and you can’t help but wonder what made him send one now. It’s sick and twisted, there’s absolutely nothing to celebrate about today, if anything, it’s a day to forget. But then you open the box, and it’s white-hot rage that fills your mind. 

Without hesitation, you put the gift in your bag and head to Spencer’s apartment, already planning what profanities you’re gonna throw at him for messing with you like this. He from all people should know better than to remind you of this, in fact, you’re surprised he’s that okay with remembering what happened on this day. Each step that takes you closer to his door makes you a little more nervous, because you don’t know how talking to him about this will play out. 

You knock, keeping it civil and gentle at first, but then you put a little more force into the move to make sure he hears you. Within a matter of seconds the door opens, and you’re standing face to face with the man who was the love of your life, the one who turned himself into the boogeyman with those gifts. But today’s present crossed a line, you couldn’t ignore the problem any longer. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks you, sounding honestly confused to find your standing there.

It’s hard to bite back the sarcastic laugh that wants to erupt from your throat. Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you push him aside and march inside, waiting for him to come after you in silence. As you watch him move, you take a better look at him–at his face, at his movements, everything. He’s different. Very different. He looks exhausted and stressed, and you can’t help but wonder what’s causing it. Where’s the sweet nerdy guy you spent over four years with?

Clearing your throat, you open your bag and put the gift on the coffee table. “Explain this.” Spencer’s eyes move to the item, the fuzzy, reddish-brown, newborn-sized jumpsuit with the fox on it, then he looks back at you with a look that shows honest confusion. “In the past years, you gave me no choice but to get used to the gifts you’re sending. Fine, I throw them out and forget about them. But this? Why? This is the first time you sent me anything on this day. It’s sick, Spencer, you know it! You have a gun, shooting me in the head would be more gentle. Or did you turn into some sick sadist?!” you scream, tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

He opens his mouth to speak up, but he struggles to find the right words for a while. “Okay, take a deep breath and calm down. The other gifts? Yes, those were from me, and I’ll stop, I promise. This? I have nothing to do with this one,” he promises as he runs his hand over the little jumpsuit. “But sadly, I have a pretty good guess who sent this so-called gift to you.”

“Is it related to one of your cases?” you ask hesitantly, knowing full well it could be an answer.

With a sigh, Spencer runs a hand through his hair. “Sort of.” When he turns back to you and sees your questioning look, he takes a deep breath and begins his explanation. “There’s a woman. She’s in prison, but she’s been messing with me, even from there. I think she wants to drag you into this. I’m so sorry,” he says softly, his tone giving away that he’s being completely honest. 

It’s hard to look at him after this, so you sit on the couch and wait for him to do the same. Once he sits next to you, keeping a comfortable distance not to upset you, you can’t help but fidget with the zip of your leather jacket. “Are you in danger?” 

“I’m more worried about you,” is all he says in response. When you turn to look at him, he gulps. “I’m going to take you home so you can pack a few things, then you’ll have to come back with me. I’ll protect you, okay? I’ll figure this out,” he promises as his hand slowly inches closer to yours. 

You force yourself to look at him, your brain in overdrive as you try to figure out if you should trust him or not. This is the man you once loved more than anything, the one you had a family with, and the very same person your family loved so much. But he has changed. You can’t quite put a finger on it, but the feeling’s there, and you can’t shake it off. Your eyes flick back at the jumpsuit on the table, glued to the damn thing as if it was calling out your name, and the words spill out before you could stop yourself. 

“You still have photos of her, don’t you?” you ask quietly. 

“Of course I do.” When you turn to him, he’s watching you with a slightly tilted head. “You don’t?”

“No. I wanted to throw them away, I thought getting rid of them would help me move on, but my parents kept them, so…” 

Spencer suddenly takes your hand, gently squeezing it in quiet reassurance. Losing your daughter hurt him just as much, maybe even more, which is why someone using the day she died against him must be a real hard punch in the gut. You can’t help but remember the nights he spent by her crib, telling her stories until he dozed off too. But your little family fell apart when she got sick, and no matter how good the doctors were, there was nothing they could do to save her. You both blamed yourselves, and grief eventually led to the two of you drifting away from each other. 

He kisses the back of your hand to pull you out of your thoughts, flashing a sad smile at you when your eyes meet. “I kept her stuff in a storage unit. I know I said I gave them away, but I couldn’t. Guess this one fell into the wrong hands,” he explains, guilt filling his voice. Even though he falls silent, you can see the wheels turning in his head. “Just bear with me until I put an end to this, okay? I only want the best for you, you know that, don’t you?” When you nod, he leans down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “Alright, let’s go get your things.”

“Spence?” With a questioning hum, he looks down at you, his hand still holding yours, ready to pull you up. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

“Saying no to couples therapy. I didn’t fight for our relationship hard enough. You deserved better,” you tell him with an apologetic look. 

Spencer suddenly crouches to be more or less on eye level with you. “We can still fix things, just say the word,” he assures you with a smile, his thumb gently caressing your skin. “I will always love you, no matter what. In fact, thinking about you helped me a lot while I was in prison.”

This freezes your brain temporarily. “You were in what?”

He shakes his head a little as he stands up. “Long story, but I’ll tell you once we get back,” he says, finally managing to pull you up too. 

The two of you just stand there in silence for a short while, and you can’t help but wonder why you gave up that easily. Sure, the grief was bad, but you loved him so much, and you could have helped each other move on. Instead, you chose to be alone, hoping falling back into the steady, boring rhythm of your life would make things right. It didn’t. You’re miserable, still suffering from the loss of your daughter, and being in Spencer’s company is a painful reminder of that. But maybe, just maybe, this sick bastard who’s playing their sick little games with him might bring you closer to each other again.

[treatbuckywkisses]

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

(also this might be my longest rb so far)

SIX UPON A TIME

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A crack in the sky you are insane I would FREAK

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CAPS BDAY IM CRACKING UP THATS SUCH A FUN SILLY MOMENT

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

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

What did the powers do 

Alpine can see us that is both cute and scary 😅 

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

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

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

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

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

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

time after time [6]

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

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 12.8k

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

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

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

six: butterfly effect

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d almost forgotten what that could feel like.

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

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

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

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

That was none of his business, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck you."

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

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

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

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

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

"Is that what they told you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A reason to get up in the morning.

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes so maybe the temptation goes away.

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

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

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

Because you’ve pissed him off now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No. How did you get stuck?"

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

How did it happen? That’s not … Okay.

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

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

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

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

Right. He doesn’t normally do that.

Except he has.

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

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

"Like what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seeing it now, though?

It makes your fingers twitch.

"Don’t say that. Not even as a joke."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow heavily. "Being noble."

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

He’s beautiful.

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

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

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

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

And yet.

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

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

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

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

Finally, he breaks eye contact, clearing his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have to do this alone.

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

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

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

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

"How would you know?"

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

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

"Promise."

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

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

***

There’s been a change in the weather.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this …

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

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

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

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

"You know what I mean."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Aren’t I?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam gives you a glare and your mouth twitches slightly.

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

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

Useless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Try that again, less convincing?"

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

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

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

You don’t, though.

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

***

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

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

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

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

He shrugs. "For a walk."

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

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

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

Bucky’s jaw twitches. "Nah."

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

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

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

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

"So? I like coffee."

"Really. I never knew."

"Screw you."

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

You miss his eyes.

Why won’t you look at me?

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

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

"Early." You blink.

"Sorry?"

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

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

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

"Sure thing," he shrugs. "Thanks—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. "My shadow."

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

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

"Not that old."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So is hers.

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

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

"You feel like or you know?"

"Isn’t that the same thing?"

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

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

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

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

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

Damnit. You might actually grow to like Lucy.

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

***

Time passes while it’s standing still.

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

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

Which you’re getting better at.

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

Rinse and repeat.

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

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

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

"You look like shit."

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

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

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

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

"Not particularly."

"Do you want to talk about something else?"

You almost smile. "Like what?"

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

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

"Did I?"

"Did you kill a puppy? I’d hope not."

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

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

You pitiful, selfish, useless bastard.

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

"Doing what?"

"I don’t know, but I don’t like it."

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

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

So you do.

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

"I can’t do this anymore."

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

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

Or maybe it’s dread.

"Maybe you can’t," Strange answers.

You blink, sitting upright. "What?"

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

Useless. Not good enough. Waste of time.

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

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

You can feel your breaths coming in shorter.

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

"Stop it!"

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

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

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

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

"You cannot keep this up."

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

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

Do as I tell you.

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

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

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

"And there it is."

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

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

"I didn’t—"

"Answer the question."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That’s not true."

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

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

Strange snaps his fingers to get your attention back.

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

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

"And what’s seeing him going to do?"

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

"Heaven help me," Strange mutters behind you.

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

Then, you walk through the closed door.

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

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

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

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

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

"Changed your mind?"

You glance into the room.

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

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

Try the floor.

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

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

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

"Would he remember if I did?"

"I don’t know."

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

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

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

"You feel better?" Strange asks.

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

"What was?"

"Just …"

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

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

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

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

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

"Did I do something?" you say quietly.

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

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

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

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

The door clicks shut.

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

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

***

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

You can cling to that.

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

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

"Fair point," you concede.

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

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

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

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

"You used to have bangs?"

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

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

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

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

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

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

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

"Sounds like a lot of work."

It is.

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

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

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

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

"Y/N said it’s for your birthday."

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

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

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

You know.

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

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

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

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

Sadly, you’re just about a minute early.

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

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

"There you are."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Does Alpine seem weird to you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don’t trust her," you mutter.

"And yet the cat’s the weird one."

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

"There’s pie?" Bucky says.

"Not for you!"

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

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

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

Again and again and again and a—

"Whoa, whoa, you alright?"

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

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

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

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

Liar, liar, liar.

***

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

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

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

Not yet.

He got shot again yesterday.

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

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

"Today is Friday, July 4th."

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

What did you expect?

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You wish."

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

"You look like shit."

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

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

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

Not this again.

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

"Alright," he says.

And, oh, you want to tell him again. Because he doesn’t press it. Because you miss having someone to share things with. Because you miss telling him the whole truth. Because you’re scared, and tired, and sick of losing him.

But those are egotistic thoughts, and so you keep them all to yourself and take the towel on the right.

There’s one good thing about this today. You make it to the living room just in time to finally catch a glimpse of Sam’s phone right when it pings with Torres’ message.

I can check it out on Monday if you’d like.

That’s it. No urgency, weirdly proper spelling, not even an exclamation mark.

In other words, you’re not sure what you expected but you’re no closer to answers than before.

"What does it matter?" Strange sighs when you tell him all of this with a frown.

"It matters," you reply, "because if we hadn’t gone on the mission, Bucky wouldn’t have died that first time and none of this would’ve happened."

"So what?" he says. "It’s already done."

"But if I could prevent it—"

"It already happened."

"I can make it not happen."

"You and what powers?" Strange says sharply. "Even if you did that, it wouldn’t stop the loop."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you’ve already seen first-hand that it’s bound to you and your powers, not to whatever you do or don’t do during the day. Karma is a fairy tale for those who don’t want to take responsibility for their actions."

"Do you really still think this is me not taking responsibility?" There’s a green flare that goes through you, hot and seething and making goosebumps crawl down your arms.

Strange smiles at the sight. "Let’s find out."

He extends his arms and slowly opens his fists until orange symbols dance across his shaky fingers. The band around your wrist prickles at the weight of his magic flooding the air.

Strange’s cloak nudges you towards the center of the room and your heart gives a heavy thud. "What, right now?"

"Would you prefer being stuck for a couple weeks more?"

"Of course not it’s just—I don’t feel ready."

"No one ever feels ready until they try."

And maybe it’s because it reminds you of something Steve once said, but it makes you step up, falling into the stance you’ve practiced over and over again. You breathe in deeply and close your eyes.

The pull comes easier now. Your powers have just been resting, nestled somewhere deep inside your bones like glowing embers, waiting for you to call upon them.

When you look at your open palm, the green wisps of your powers have curled up to the size of a ping-pong ball. You take another steadying breath and let it glide to the tips of your fingers, carefully letting it balance itself out for a second before moving your other hand.

"Good," you can hear Strange say quietly.

Slowly, carefully, you let the threads untangle until they’re just about to touch the green band circling around your wrist. You can feel the electric tingle of it, the soft beat of each passing second contained within, and you push past it.

You’ve done this before, so you’re not surprised when you feel the energy drain from your body almost immediately. Up until now, though, it’s just been trial and error, not expecting anything to happen. This time, you have Strange’s magic feeding some of his strength into you as well, and so instead of hesitating, you press on, your heartbeat speeding up.

The band around your wrist does the same.

"Don’t lose your focus." Strange’s voice sounds very far away, almost warped.

Very funny, you might have said, but you’re too busy watching it all unfold.

The whirring inside of your head grows louder as the circlet of time keeps rotating with accelerating speed, faster and faster until your eyes start tearing up and there’s something that looks almost like a crack.

You gasp quietly. At first, you think you might have just imagined it, but then the split starts growing, the symbols growing farther and farther apart as the band itself keeps spinning. Your pulse is beating in your ears. Your wrist feels like it’s being set on fire.

There are voices, then, quiet and fast, like you’re watching a sped up movie, music and noises and chatter and birdsong and a whooshing sound like something flipping right past you. Then, something like distant shots.

I’m getting Bucky out of this, you think as the green band continues rotating until suddenly, there is a shockwave of green light that takes up your entire field of vision.

You close your stinging eyes, keeping your feet firmly planted on the floor as your powers rush through you once more and then, with a shudder, settle down again, exhausted. The glare subsides. Something like a trickle of sweat runs down your noncorporeal neck.

"Did it work?" you ask, your voice rough, not daring to look for yourself. There’s no answer, though. "Doc?"

Slowly, your eyes readjust to the gloomy darkness of your room in the astral realm. The only source of light is the glowing green band continuing to circle around your wrist, the rifts stabilizing again like it’s clicking back into place.

You swear under your breath and turn around to ask what went wrong, but Strange is no longer standing beside you.

You’re all alone.

***

Three, two, one—

"Iced grande extra whip caramel macchia—shit!"

You catch the plastic cup before it drops onto the suit of the business man standing in line in front of you. "Here you go, sir."

He grabs his drink with a grunt and hurries back outside. One of these days, you might ask him why he’s in such a hurry, but it’s not today.

You’ve grown to adore the noise of the pre-noon rush. The cacophany of the whirring machines, the AC and the people is just loud enough to make your head calm down a little. Besides, being alone in a crowd has never been easier than when you know for a fact they are not going to remember you.

The drinks are starting to pile up at the hand-out, and because you feel bad for your colleagues, you start handing them out to people. You’ve been here a lot, after all.

"Tall hazelnut latte for Misty!"

Plus, it helps to keep your mind from wandering back to everything that’s going wrong.

Strange still hasn’t returned.

The astral dimension feels different when you return the day after your experiment, like someone’s been pulling invisible strings to make everything just slightly more disordered and dark.

It’s cold, too. You watch your body shiver in her sleep as you wrap your arms around yourself. The books are still there, shimmering slightly with the magic they contain.

"Doc?" you call out, and the vibrations of this place hum it back at you. There’s no answer.

The book at the top of the pile is still opened to a page, as if it’d just been left a moment ago, and you pick it up. The words glide around like they are looking to jump back into an inkpot, and you have to squint to make out any of them.

Incursion, the section header reads. Result of a contraction in a universe’s timeline. Can cause premature disintegration or collapse of any one reality within the multiverse.

"Just great," you say, slapping the book shut again. "I get it, alright? You can come out now."

But there’s no sound apart from your own heartbeat.

Your noncorporeal head is swimming with pressure as you pass through the closed door and into the hallway. The walls seem larger than usual, the stairs warping ever so slightly underneath your feet so that you can’t look at them for too long without feeling seasick.

Upstairs, the air doesn’t feel quite as heavy. The silence follows you, though, lingering in the grayish morning shadows like the remnants of a nightmare.

Bucky still mumbles in his.

You can’t make out what he is saying, and you wouldn’t have understood the words, anyway, but there’s sweat on his brow again. His fingers are tightly clutching the thin throw blanket like it’s shielding him from whatever he’s seeing in his dreams.

You take a step closer to him, desperate to do something, anything, when you notice movement out of the corner of your eye.

Alpine is perched on top of the bed, complacently tucked into herself on one of the fluffed up white pillows like it’s really her room, not Bucky’s.

And she’s staring right at you.

You take a step to the side, then another. Alpine tilts her head, her large eyes fixed on you. They follow your gestures as you wave your hand.

A quick glance tells you that Bucky is still sleeping. You take a deep breath and conjure up a small dot of bright green light, letting it dance across your fingertips. Alpine uncurls herself in interest, her tail twitching.

"You can see me," you whisper, and the little spec of your power disappears.

The cat meows in disappointment.

Carefully, you move closer to the bed, reaching out your translucent hand until you place it on Alpine’s head.

She rubs against your palm.

You chuckle incredulously, scratching behind her ears. "You little devil."

Alpine seems particularly pleased with herself. She starts purring.

This is simply bizarre, you think as you continue petting her soft fur. You’re expecting a sarcastic comment from behind your shoulder any minute now, but it doesn’t come.

So, you lower yourself down on the floor next to Bucky, the tips of your fingers not quite grazing his arm as you swallow heavily.

And then you wait until he gets up.

It’s possible, you think as you watch him leave and then make yourself wake up too, that Strange is simply messing with you for the hell of it. You don’t like the timing of this, though. Your day still continues on and on and on, like it always does, but it seems just a little too pointed that this would happen right after you had your first hopes of getting out of here in a long time.

It doesn’t help that the reality glitches have decided to return with a vengeance.

Every day is still July 4th. You wake up with a start, you train, you get coffee, you fight over lunch, you take your astral visit, you go on that damn mission. It’s the details that start to get … fuzzy.

In the beginning, every single thing around you was the exact same every single day. Now, though, there are sometimes details that are just wrong. A different mug left on the drying rack. A mess all over the tables in the lab. Weird noises all over the Tower.

You don’t know what to make of any of it, and so in general, you follow Strange’s rule of thumb and simply ignore the things that are wrong one day and then right the next—which, thankfully, is all of them. You just go with it, telling yourself that this is simply reality malfunctioning a little, like a machine that needs oiling.

Weirdly enough, that doesn’t reassure you in the slightest.

But what else can you do?

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

That time, Sam is there when Bucky gets shot, and it’s his cry that follows you into the next day. Your hands are clean this time, and somehow that feels worse.

Everyone’s back to their usual stuff again, and that’s that.

Another time, you’ve barely rolled out of bed and into your bathroom—"Rise and shine, McFly!"—when you’re suddenly jolted forwards and you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume. Your stomach feels like it’s still turning, nauseous, as if you’d sat up too fast.

That feeling still leaves a bad taste in your mouth, sticking to the back of your mind like the blood you haven’t even had time to wash off.

The thing that demands most of your attention, though, is the pile of books waiting for you in the astral realm. Since you don’t have any control over the loop itself, you pour all of your energy into trying to understand the theory behind your powers. It’s giving you a constant headache, and it takes a lot longer than you would like to admit, but at least you feel like you’re doing something that’ll last.

Nothing else will.

There’s one last lonely cup sat on the counter next to your own, which signals that the rush is over for now. You can see Lucy wiping her forehead as you wave your goodbye, picking up both drinks on your way out and handing one of them to the guy just hurrying back downstairs.

"Here you go," you say without stopping, glancing at your phone. You haven’t stayed this late before.

"What the—" you hear behind you, just before the doors glide open and you’re greeted by the sound of traffic and a hot breeze of air.

If you’re lucky, you can make it back to your room without anyone seeing you. You’ve moved on to a particularly hefty tome about relativity, and you’d like to—

"Hey! Miss? Hold on a second!"

You look over your shoulder to see the delivery guy has run after you, cup still in his hand. His bike is leaned against a lamp post nearby, his cap dangling off one of the handles.

You found out a couple of weeks ago that he takes his break just after dropping off your order, but you don’t usually make eye contact anymore.

Now, he holds out his cup accusingly. "That’s my drink."

You smile. "Good for you."

"No. No, that’s not—I mean—how did you know it was my drink?"

And because nothing really matters and you really want to go home, you say, "It has your name on it, doesn’t it?"

You expect him to look at you with wide eyes, just like people normally do when you know things you’re not supposed to. His mouth will drop open, speechless, his frown will deepen, and you can wink at him and continue on your way so he can spend the next couple of hours wondering what just happened.

The cup falls out of his hand, but somehow he manages to catch it before it hits the sidewalk. When he looks up at you again, and his expression is unlike anything you’ve seen coming.

"But that’s not …" he says quietly. "Do you remember me?"

And then it’s you who’s speechless, because the shock on Peter Parker’s face is more than you bargained for.

*****

"Honestly, I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this," you said quietly, looking over the rim of your glass at the crowd.

"You complaining?" you heard Sam’s voice say over the little earpiece you were wearing.

"Not at all."

Apparently, people connected to terrorist organizations threw incredibly fancy parties.

You hadn’t felt this glamorous in a while, if ever, dressed up to the nines in a dark green jumpsuit with an incredibly flattering cut that you’d never had a reason to wear before. Despite your initial doubts about this whole thing, you felt great, for the first time in way too long.

"Are you gonna move any time soon?"

Well. Mostly.

At least Barnes cleaned up nice, you supposed; it almost made up for his grouchy demeanor.

With a sigh, you downed the rest of your drink and got back to work. You let the crowd swallow you up, seemingly on your way to the restrooms, and then you stopped it all to slip upstairs unnoticed by prying eyes and cameras.

You didn’t hold it for very long; you had to rattle some doors, after all, and despite your espresso martini, it was still hard to tell if you could manage several redos back to back. After all, you’d only been back in the game for a couple of weeks.

It took you a few tries to find the right office, and locating the files was comparatively easy with what you already had access to. There it was, proof that ULTIMATUM had managed to secure most of the Flag Smashers’ previous supporters as well as some high brow weapon dealers.

While you copied everything onto a flashdrive, your eyes caught one of the designs. You frowned.

Even though you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, exactly, something about it seemed just slightly too highbrow for an organization of the international bad egg committee that was supposedly still mostly underground. Your gaze started drifting through the rest of the office, noting the usual boring books and glass awards in the bookshelves on the far wall. You pulled open one of the desk drawers.

"You almost done in here?"

"Fuck!" You slammed the drawer shut again, getting your pinkie stuck in the process. "Damnit, where did you come from?"

Bucky pointed over his shoulder.

"Fuck me," you murmured, your eyes stinging at the pain.

Bucky looked nonplussed. "Can’t you just undo it?"

"Great input, thank you." The flashdrive beeped softly and you shut everything down again. At least you were definitely sober now. "What are you, anyway, my babysitter?"

"Wouldn’t have to be if you could check in on time," he answered, checking the corridors, then nodding for you to follow.

"Time’s a social construct," you murmured, but followed him, the flashdrive hidden in your fist.

You didn’t even make it to the staircase.

"Didn’t I tell you?" a voice said right before several triggers clicked and you both froze. "I knew I’d recognized that arm. And who do you have with you here, Winter Soldier?"

No one, you thought, and then you yanked time backwards so forcefully you stumbled into the desk, your heart still racing. The copy sat at 57%.

You felt almost seasick with the rewind, but there wasn’t any time. "Keep going upstairs," you said into your earpiece.

"What?" Bucky said.

"I’m fine. Don’t come get me. Just keep going," you gritted through your teeth, trying to calm your breaths. 70%.

"Exit plan C, then," Sam said.

Bucky didn’t answer. You looked at your hands. There was a slight tremor to them, but nothing too bad. If you could get the nausea under control, you could probably make it past the cameras one more time.

You should’ve eaten more.

As soon as the flashdrive was done, you ripped it out and forced everything to a halt again. Your palms were sweaty as you hurried out of the office and in the direction of the staircase, your lungs burning. This didn’t feel like a good sign.

You stumbled over your damn heels and the noise returned for that moment you lost your concentration.

Not good enough.

Sweat pearled on your forehead as you and the universe held your breath again. You could feel your hold slipping with every second that wasn’t allowed to pass. Time was impatient with you.

A small crowd had assembled at the bottom of the stairs. As you closed in on them, you felt a jolt go through you and suddenly found yourself surrounded by people as time attempted to right itself again. Your nails dug into the skin of your palm so hard you could feel yourself draw blood.

It went quiet again and you moved through them, almost blindly. Everything seemed to be spinning.

Behind your shoulder, you could hear several people talking, interrupted only by the world stopping around them every now and then.

"—d’you—see that—"

"—could’ve—sworn there—”

And with time stumbling and flailing around in confusion, you made it out of the building and into the waiting cab.

chapter seven

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

[artificialbreezy]

Hi!!!

I’m here with another thought but it’s Jacky boy this time 😌😌

Best friend! Jack who is extremely possessive and doesn’t like you hanging out with other guys cause he’s actually in love with you and thinks you don’t haha the same feelings for him.

(P.S I’m gonna give myself a lil emoji so that you know it’s me 😂😂)

😈

oh my god, let’s FUCKING GO

CW: friends to lovers, Jacks pov! this is fully unedited.

it was never a thought that crossed your mind that your bestest friend in the whole world would ever look at you the way you look at him.

so you did what any person would, you push the heart eyes as far down as possible and try to move on.

one thing that Jack was big on was location sharing. the world is scary and he wants you safe, and the same peace of mind for you. especially with how often he isn’t home.

so when he’s in Toronto, he checks your location and sees you at a bar? you don’t go to bars, especially alone. it’s like pulling teeth to get you out.

“hey Flower! facetime in 15?” the text read.

when 30 minutes past and he saw no text back, he sent another.

“you okay? you’re at the bar. are you by yourself?”

“no Jack. why would i be by myself at a dive bar?”

he felt himself getting irritated. where did this attitude come from? you’re never snippy with him.

he sighs as he presses the little button, listening to the line ring.

“yes Jack?”

“go home. i’m calling you an uber. whoever you’re with will be fine. you’re going home.” he spoke, stern. leaving no room for arguing. immediately hanging up.

the only communication from him until he got home was the text your uber arrived and a “glad you’re home safe.”

the pounding on his front door pulled him away from his call with Quinn. listening to his brother ramble on his ear how he should just tell you how he feels instead of being a fucking weirdo.

“Quinn, gotta go. she’s here and she looks mad.” he spoke as he’s hanging up.

your hand was flat against his chest, pushing him into his apartment. you may be mad, but you’re not causing a scene in the hall. “you have some fucking nerves Hughes. you not only crash my date but then you full fucking ghost me? the fuck is your problem? game go sour so you take it out on me?”

he smiled at her, the red of her cheeks spreading up her neck a little. she’s hot when she’s mad.

“oh! okay! you stay silent then! i’m leaving. fuck this and fuck you.” she’s turning around, all but stomping back to my door.

“sit the fuck down, Flower. you’re not going to come into my home with all this attitude and not give me a god damn second to tell you why. so sit down, and shut up. 5 minutes is all i need.”

there she goes, huffing and puffing. at least she’s sitting down.

“i texted you. i asked to call. you never ignore me, you never say no to a facetime. i checked your location and asked if you were okay. you took a second so i texted your friend and she said you were on a date with her coworker. it was late, i know you hate bars and i wanted you home and safe. i’m sorry i went ghost. i was stuck in my head. i didn’t know how to tell you. Quinn said i was stupid. he’s right. i am. you’re my best friend and i shouldn’t feel bad about this. i just, i don’t wanna be your friend anymore.” he took a breath, seeing tears swell up in your eyes. “i want to be more.”

it felt like his world stopped. there was a silence he didn’t like. he didn’t know what you were gonna do or even say. you felt unreadable for the first time in 13 years.

“Jack,” she whispered. “what do you mean by more?”

“ideally i’m your husband but ill settle for boyfriend for a while.” he found himself playing with the back of his hair, that nervous movement he’s done forever.

“you’re not just saying this? please tell me you’re not joking.” her tears kept falling and his heart ached. why would he joke about this? why would she think he was fucking with her?

he didn’t trust his voice, knowing he’d just cry with her. he knelt down in front of her, his hands resting comfortably on her cheeks. leaning forward just enough that his lips were hovering hers. “i’m so serious, flower.”

“kiss me then.”

didn’t need to tell Jack twice.

[under-loch-n-key]

I know it’s been a while since I post so here’s some Hazbin art. I may upload some more Lucifer and Alastor stuff in the future. I honestly gave up on this because my app kept crashing so it’s kinda messy in some places and a bit all over the place.

This takes place after season 1. Lucifer is trying to heal Alastor’s wound and senses a foreign energy in him. Then a bunch of arguing later, he finds out that it’s Lilith. So, then it clicks for him as to why Alastor was/is at the hotel.

I’m currently working on a fic of it so if you’re interested in reading it, maybe I’ll continue it. I’ll just have to see how my motivation is. [,:

—

I do make ship art of them but as an aroace person, I don’t think I’ll be making any NSFW stuff of them because idk if I feel comfy about that. I’ll just see what I’m personally comfortable with in the future though! If I do, I will NOT be anything too graphic or intense because yeah, no.. the art that will be uploaded of them will mainly just be crack/chaotic art and fluffy, domestic stuff of them. Lol.

Soooo, anyways, enjoy my phone doodle! I cramped my fingers drawing this and wanted to chuck my phone across my room because I had to restart this drawing multiple times because my sketchbook app would crash and wouldn’t save anything. QvQ 💛

(This is also gonna be a mini-comic so this is just the first panel of a very short comic thingy. Lmao.)

—

(Also, side note, if you don’t ship it, that’s fine. However, please do NOT attack me or any other shippers in reblogs or comments with the statement of us betraying the aroace community or something like that. I am Aroace myself and it’s hurtful to be told that by people who I share a fandom with. I am on a similar spectrum as Alastor and it’s very hard for me to develop those kind of genuine attractions but that doesn’t mean that myself or other aroace people are not capable of those things. I feel infantilised when I see non-aro and non-ace folk speaking up on our behalf. I don’t mind it, per se, but when they act like they are the final say of our community, that’s where I personally take issue. If I am offended by something, I will speak up, I feel like I’m being treated like a child when people do stuff like that.

I do not personally need a non-aroace person speaking up on my behalf. I’m not offended when I see ship art regarding the character of Alastor. I DO get offended when people completely erase his asexuality, act like he has no idea has his anatomy works/infantilise him, erase his boundaries, etc. if you’re making art and fics with care and consideration toward his identity then I’m completely okay. Just be respectful.

I have seen/read some NSFW stuff regarding that character where the artist does handle it with care and respect. I have seen others that.. well.. don’t do that. Lol.

If someone is being genuinely disrespectful toward my community then please say something but DO NOT harass people over simple domestic SFW fanart. Just be nice to people please!!!! I will turn off comments or remove the comments if you attack people over a ship. Know that I am NOT the final say either. This is my personal input and opinion and do not take this as gospel!)

Art is meant to be loved and enjoyed. So, just enjoy and be kind to people please! 💛💛

[dedexo]

The Proposal

Timeskip Kenma x Fem Reader

Not proofread

“What's up bros It's Kozuken. Today, I have with me (he pulls the chair you’re sitting on in frame) my beautiful girlfriend, and we’ll be playing Minecraft together!”

The chat exploded with excitement and compliments. Kenma’s viewers loved it when you joined the stream even though it wasn't often. You only joined once in a while when Kenma asked you or on special occasions. You thought today's stream was just a regular stream, and Kenma only asked you to join because why not? However, Kenma had other plans in mind.

You guys have been dating for almost 5 years now and everything was going great, sure you had arguments here and there but nothing break up worthy. Overall, Kenma was pretty content with your relationship. The thought of marriage didn't even cross his mind until Kuroo brought it up randomly one day.

**********************************************

“Sooo when’s the wedding?” Kuroo asked while sipping his tea.

“What wedding?” Kenma asked with genuine confusion.

“Are you being serious right now?” Kuroo put down his tea and stared Kenma dead in the eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Are you not planning on marrying y/n?”

“Oh….” Kenma sits there and ponders for a couple of seconds. “Well to be honest I didn't really think about marriage. It would be nice though, calling her my wife and all.” A slight blush appeared on his cheeks.

“Well you better get on with it, no girl would stay with you this long if she didn't think you were gonna eventually propose to her. And if you wait too long she might just leave you.”

**********************************************

And that’s how he ended up here nervously sitting with a ring in his pocket and you sitting next to him completely oblivious to his plan.

He planned to propose to you through Minecraft since it was the first game you guys ever played together, but throughout the whole stream, he kept questioning himself. What if you said no? Should he really do this on stream where millions of people can see? Should he have proposed a different way? What if you wanted some big fancy flowers on the beach kinda proposal? How would he recover if you rejected him in front of his fans? These thoughts plagued his mind until he realized that it was almost time for the stream to end. It was now or never.

“Before we end the stream there's something I’d like to show you y/n, follow me.” Kenma said sounding kinda uneasy.

“Okay!” You say with a bit of excitement. You noticed that he was acting kinda weird but you decided to ignore it thinking it was nothing and continued to follow him in the game.

He carried you to this super pretty area that was covered in flowers. You could tell that there was a sign in the middle of it but you were too far away to see what it said. Once you were close enough you finally read what it said. 

“WILL YOU MARRY ME Y/N💍?”

It took you a couple of seconds to process what was happening. Is this for real??

You look over at Kenma and he is on one knee with a ring in his hand.

You sat there, hands covering your mouth, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Y/n, you are the best girl I could ever ask for, I love you with all my heart and I cant imagine my life without you in it. Will you marry me?

“OH MY GOD YESSSSS!!” You jump on him causing you both to tumble over.

You guys get up off the floor and Kenma slides the ring on your finger

The stream chat was exploding with congratulations and people laughing at the fall. 

Kenma thanked his viewers for the support and ended the stream.

You two spent the rest of the evening celebrating and looking at wedding inspo on Pinterest.

_________________________________________

If you couldn't already tell I lost motivation at the end 🙃  

[melosliving]

aaron pierre n kelvin harrison jr x actress!reader

reading thirst tweets !

Sitting in your chair for what felt like hours now, you fidgeted with your fingers, trying to calm your racing mind. Today, you were having an interview with Kelvin and Aaron, and for once, you were the first one to plant your pretty self in the assigned chair, right in front of the numerous cameras.

Surprisingly, interviews were always stressful for you. You actually hated them, but because you loved your job so much, you were willing to endure this overwhelming experience. “Look who’s on time for once!” aaron teased, making you lift your head to see both guys standing in front of you, their cologne lingering faintly in the air. They looked good. “And wearing heels? Damn, you look good, good,” Kelvin added with a smirk, sitting to your left.

“Thank you, boo. You both smell amazing, but my allergies might kick in,” you joked, crossing your legs with a light laugh. “What’s on the agenda today ?” Aaron asked, looking between you and Kelvin. “We’re reading thirst tweets,” you replied, burying your head in your hands. You already knew this was going to be chaotic.

“Y’all ready?” one of the staff members asked, approaching with a phone in hand. You nodded along with the guys but extended your hand to take the phone, resting it casually on your lap. The filming lead gave you a small nod, signaling that the video had started. “Hello there, I’m ❁, and I’m here with my handsome–” you began with a playful grin.

“Wow,” Kelvin interrupted, smirking.

“Talented, brilliant–” you continued, teasing as the two men echoed a dramatic “Woooooow!” in unison, both laughing at you.

“And charming co-stars, Aaron Pierre and Kelvin Harrison Jr. Today, we are reading your nastiest tweets!” you finished, giggling as they clapped dramatically. “I’m actually so ready for this,” Kelvin laughed. “Let me read the first one.” He reached for the phone and gently took it from your lap. “Okay, so the first one says : ‘I just want Kelvin to grab my butt, is that so hard to ask?’”

Your eyebrows shot up as you looked directly at the camera. “That’s a crazy thing to say,” Aaron laughed. “Are you sure you just want him to grab your ass, though ? He could do so much more, girl.” you teased, turning to Kelvin, who raised an eyebrow at the camera with a cheeky smirk.

“Actually, that’s not too much to ask,” Kelvin admitted, leaning back in his chair.

You grabbed the phone back, handing it to Aaron. “Doggy, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl—okay, I need to stop because my mom might watch this,” Aaron read, his face turning red as he broke into laughter. “Why are you so shy ?” you teased, nudging him playfully. “stop playing with me,” Aaron muttered, flicking your forehead lightly.

“Every time ❁ speaks french, I get pregnant ! Mind you, I am a woman,” you read next, aaron’s laughter barely contained. You turned dramatically to look at both men. “Actually, if you think her french is hot, wait till you hear her Spanish–” Kelvin began, pointing at you. Before he could finish, you slapped your hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, stop him!” you exclaimed, laughing.

The crew erupted into laughter as Kelvin leaned closer and whispered, “You’re gonna have to let me finish that later thought.” You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

Kelvin took the phone back, still giggling. “Alright, this one says : ‘Kelvin can ruin my life. Like… destroy me emotionally, financially, physically. I’m free Tuesday, by the way.’”

“Tuesday’s no good for me, but maybe next Friday,” Kelvin quipped, glancing at the camera with a grin. You groaned, laughing. “Not you checking your schedule! That’s crazy.” you teased. Aaron shook his head, leaning over to read the next one. “‘Aaron Pierre could sneeze in my direction, I would say thank you, daddy.’” He burst out laughing, handing the phone back to you. “Wow, so we’re sneezing now? That’s where we’re at?” Aaron joked, shaking his head.

“Let me take the last one,” you said, scrolling to another tweet. “‘I would let ❁ step on my neck in heels and say thank you for the opportunity.’”Kelvin turned to look at your feet. “And she got the heels on and everything. Don’t let this opportunity go to waste!” You rolled your eyes dramatically, laughing. “Y’all are ridiculous!”

By the end of the shoot, the three of you were exhausted from laughing so much. As the cameras turned off, Kelvin leaned in with a soft smile. “You know,” he said quietly, “you really are the epitome of charming. And you know I mean that.”

You couldn’t help but blush and push him as Aaron interjected, “there he goes again.” The three of you burst out laughing one last time, ending the day on a high note.

@ melosliving 2025

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 9; "Never seen that color blue."

“No, yeah, of course! Noo…no! Thank you! I seriously appreciate all of your help and understanding during this! I hope you have a wonderful day! Yeah, aw, thanks! You, too! Yeah- okay- bye!”

My faux smile dropped as soon as my hand did, phone falling to a silenced settle on my left thigh. I breathed a shallow breath of somehow anxious relief, so ironic that it made me want to scream.

Max reached across the bed and rubbed my knee comfortingly, “You okay?”

I wanted to snort, yell, kick my feet, and laugh hysterically. Throw a temper tantrum, wish on a star, kiss a fucking frog. Fall on my knees, beg the skies. Change fate's cruel course of time.

But my expression was blank as I shrugged, “What can ya do?”

The corner of his lips lifted into the saddest smile. His thumb brushed my skin, “It’s gonna be alright. Once you settle back in, things will start to feel normal. You can start…moving on. And, hey, I’m visiting in just a month. You have that to look forward to. School starting, your new role at the clinic. So many good things, Daz.”

He was right- I had so much to be excited about. I really should’ve felt excited, grateful. A better woman would have. A better woman would have seen the blessings all around her and felt so full of life and love. God, she would’ve respected herself enough to not be in this situation in the first place.

Yet I couldn’t help but feel resentful, knowing that I would trade all of it for-

for him.

For Oliver.

I would give up everything for just another moment, hanging onto his lips like a vine. Just a second of growth, even if being ripped away meant digging up the roots and my leaves dying.

I just gave Max that fake smile, knowing full well he was aware that it meant nothing. “You’re right. It’ll be good for me to be home.”

He squeezed my knee before removing his hand. “You wanna finish packing? Or maybe take a break? Get some food?”

I glanced around at the mess of clothes across Sam and I’s hotel room. My bags lay open, a few piles of my stuff already stuffed inside. But there was more than half to be done. So much to be done before I went…before I went home tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Less than 12 hours from now. I’d be heading back to reality. Closing the doors on Europe, on everything and everybody I’d be leaving here.

There was just one week left on the European leg of the two. Tomorrow morning, everyone will be leaving for Germany. I’d go to the airport with them, like normal, but depart at a separate gate, at the same exact time. Those who needed to know, well, I was going to tell them. And those who needed to know the reason why would, too. Sam was going to think I was going home because of an offer for a higher position from the clinic I worked at. But this was only partially true. Training for that wouldn’t even start for another 3 weeks. School wasn’t for a month.

I was leaving for me- for clarity, fresh air. Oliver was right- London was foggy, full of pollution and shitty, selfish men.

I needed to get away, out. Back to routine and home. Back to what I knew- what wouldn’t hurt me.

I looked back to Max, “I'm gonna finish packing. Get it over with. Before Sam gets back. I think it might hurt his feelings to walk in and see this…mess.”

Mess might have held a double meaning. I had looked better, for sure. Max understood, I think, for he knocked his shoulder against mine, then stood from the bed. “We got it, Daz.”

I stood up quickly, knowing the only way to get started was to just start. Stand. Move. (I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.)

It took us another hour or so to finish stuffing my belongings into their bags. I had bought maybe one too many souvenirs, so we struggled to find a place for everything. When we were done, I slew myself across the end of the bed, breathing heavily, sweating a little bit.

Max groaned from the floor, “Why do you own so many things?!”

“Dude, I don’t even know. It’s gonna take me 12 years to unpack!”

He chortled, half-heartedly, patting his stomach as an afterthought. “I am soooo hungry. What do you wanna eat?”

I sat up as he did so, shrugging a bit, “You pick. I don’t have the energy for all that.”

“I’m good with the hotel restaurant if you are.”

“Fuck it.”

So, we sludged our way downstairs. I hadn’t been leaving my room much, worried you-know-who would cross my path and shake things up again. Though, I doubted he was looking for me. He hadn’t so much as texted me since last week. Oliver was probably sulking, convincing himself that he was the victim in this whole thing. The thought made my blood rush a little bit. I clenched my fist as the elevator doors closed, trying to focus on breathing and not screaming.

The past three had been probably one of the worst of my life. I was so…so sad. So angry. Confused. Nothing made sense, yet all of my fears had come true. It was like I knew all the answers, but my bones felt so put off by how they manifested themselves. Like, what do you mean the cold, dark, distant boy turned out to be a cheating, manipulative liar? Right on the money.

My rational mind couldn’t wrap around the fact that it still felt so…disappointing? Wrong? Fucked the fucking fuck up.

The doors slid open. I followed, quietly, behind Max as we headed for the inlet to the left of the front counter. This was a usual part of my new found routine, grabbing food with Max. Albeit, sneakily, with numerous texts between the two of us (me, badgering him) ensuring nobody else (Oliver) was down here. In avoiding him, I had been avoiding everybody else, too.

I could already see their knowing looks. Sam could read me like a book. Ronnie was way psychic and usually felt the vibe of a situation long before it occurred. Adam, obviously, already was aware. And I'm sure he would have relayed the information to Cyrus.

I was exuding this aura of heartbroken, school-girl-fantasy-crushed, sad-puppy shit. I felt tired, and I’m sure my eyes looked it, too. Any passerby probably could have read my emotions pretty well. No matter, I’d be out of here soon. Back home. I could heal, rest, relax, find somebody else to fuck and get the fuck over this dumb ass white boy.

My dumb ass white boy. I’d tried not to think about him, so deeply sunk into this angry feeling that I couldn’t even fathom the idea of missing what had hurt me. Alas, every once and a while (between every other curse I thought of) something would flash through my mind. A distant memory, an image of his deep-ocean blue eyes shining with flames from the rooftop firepit, triggered by a breath, a catch of the wind, a sink in my heart. I’d feel a little moth flicker in my chest. An air bubble, taut in my stomach, would have me hiccuping from gushing tears in an instant.

I think it was the deep blue suede of the hotel bar’s stools that did it this time. I brushed a hand, slowly, watching the color shift from the movement of the fabric. The lighter color reminded me of a time he felt the way I did right now. Sadness. Maybe it hadn’t meant as much to him, maybe his depravity was not comforted by me. But that moment, when I held him, when he nuzzled his head into my neck and began crying-

“Wanna drink?” Max rested a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention back from where I was trudging through fleeting, erasing moments.

I ceased my body from flinching, willed away the wetness in my eyes, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s get a drink.”

Which was a mistake.

One drink turned to appetizers turned to three drinks turned to main courses, 5 drinks, 2 shots, and dessert. Before I knew it, Max and I were cackling over some typo on some Twitter post. I gripped his shirt sleeve and hoped I wouldn’t slide off the bar stool. For the first time in a week, I wasn’t concerning myself with the logistics of sticking around in this public area as long as we had been. I wasn’t even thinking of Oliver. In fact, Max and I were discussing some of our favorite shitposts about American politics. My mind was far away from dumb Brits and idiotic Europeans.

Of course, the world had a very funny way of spitting in my face.

Adam, Cyrus, and- low and behold- Oliver came strolling into the bar right when Max and I finished ordering another drink. I felt a little sick, watching as they neared us. Oliver wasn’t paying attention. He never did. His head, sunken into his hoodie, hands shoved in his pockets. He moved like the Grim Reaper. I wondered if he had come to take my soul away.

Adam and Cyrus seemed…on edge. They noticed Max and I only after they’d made it halfway across the room. Adam hesitated on his next step, catching my eye, worriedly glancing between me and Oliver.

Max was aware, at this point. He cut himself off mid sentence, swiping a hand across his lips. “Shit,” he mumbled to himself. “Daisy…let’s go.”

His fingers brushed through mine in a desperate grasp to pull me along with him, towards the door. I was drunk. I was not thinking. I was hysterical, sad, heartbroken, angry. I tugged my hand away, instead flipping into the air to wave and cheerfully catch the group’s full attention.

“Cy! Adam!” I couldn’t quite catch his name on my tongue. I thought I might puke. “Hey, girl!”

Oliver looked up at the sound of voice. He stopped, but three feet from our little round table. The light, dim from the overhead lamps and LED strips behind the counter, caught the round pupils in his eyes. I watched as he blinked once, twice. Blue.

“Oliver!” There it was.

He met my eye. The corners of his lids wilted, like the petals of a flower, aged, saddened. Drops of rain dropping them in weight. Max looked between the two of us. Cyrus busied himself with buying a drink. Adam slouched in the awkward, pregnant air. Oliver ignored me, moved around our group to sit as far away as possible.

I clenched my jaw. Rage. Utter, pure anger. How dare he deny me even now? The fact that he had not come to my door in the past few days, on his knees, begging for my forgiveness- I was seething. And, now, he goes back to his old tricks. Pretending like I don’t exist.

I turned to Max, who was bracing for impact. His hands were wary, held up near me as if to catch my fall. I shrugged, smiled cheekily, wrinkled my nose. I bumped Adam’s shoulder with mine and declared, “Shots on me?”

He continued his smug slump in the bar stool for the next hour. Adam, Cyrus, Max, and I hung like the old pals we were, cracking jokes, swapping stories like we were surrounding a campfire. I glanced at Oliver every once in a while, hoping to accidentally make eye contact like we used to. He stared down at his phone or his glass. I was surprised the device worked considering he’d fucking forgotten my contact existed or something.

Ugh.

What a fucking ass hole.

Adam asked me a question, pulling my attention back in. “Are you excited for Germany?”

Oh. I’d almost forgotten all about this little plot. I knew that if I spoke loud enough, Oliver would hear. He’d react. I could almost hear it, the little hitch in his breath. The tickle in his throat. The flit of his tongue across his lips, the patter of his holey heart.

I felt my own chest jitter with the excitement, the want of a reaction I needed from him. The shock. The idea that I would be an ocean away from him. No longer at an arm’s length.

I turned towards Adam and rested my chin on my fist. I frowned, almost playfully, “Ugh, I hate having to tell you guys like this!”

Cyrus slowly lowered his glass from his lips, having been mid-drink, “What’s up?”

“I’m going home,” my brows furrowed in a naive look. Adam and Cyrus’ chins dropped a sliver. I pouted my lip, “Stop! I know! I’m so sad!”

I wanted to wait until the conversation was over to look down the bar, to see if even a fragment of what I was saying had affected him. But, I didn’t need to wait. Oliver had flinched. He literally flinched.

“Yeah, me, too,” Adam touched my hand. “Why so soon? I thought you were staying through August?”

“I was planning on it, but…they offered me a better position at the clinic I work at. I have to get home to start training,” I continued, a satisfied smirk teasing my mouth.

Cyrus lifted his glass, “Well, there’s nothing to be sad about, then! To your new job.”

“I’ll cheers to that,” the smirk slipped into a genuine smile. I really would miss these guys, but my drunken, stupid mind wasn’t thinking about that. I wanted more from Oliver. I wanted a white flag or a look or a…fuck, I wanted him.

I pushed, “I’ll really miss you guys. Max, with your corny-ass pick-up lines, Adam’s mom vibes, Cy’s ability to knock back more drinks than fucking- I don’t know, Spider-man, and not get drunk? Shit’s insane.”

I drank in the laughter for a moment, eyes lingering down the bar to Oliver. Then, I added a name to my list and narrowed my gaze, “Oliver,” he wouldn’t look. “With your need to ignore me in every room we’re in. I’ll really miss your cold fucking shoulder.”

Any laughter that may have hung onto our past moment faded. I heard Max take a sharp breath in through his teeth. Adam pressed his lips together. Cyrus looked over his shoulder at their friend. I didn’t know if he really knew, but he had to understand just a little bit. The vibes were always there. We thought we were sneaky, but we were so sickly up each other’s asses. We’d even run into Cyrus and Adam in the hallway that one time. I guess we were all really good at being hopefully fucking stupid and blind.

I leaned on my palm and stared that man down. I watched as he kept his chin, pointed ahead, like he was playing brave in the situation. His Adam's apple bobbed. Oliver clutched his glass, swung it back, slugged the liquid down. Slammed it back on the counter. Then, he stood up, pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and threw a wad of bills onto the bar. He adjusted his hoodie and left.

I was dizzy. I stuttered back a step. Max touched my wrist, murmuring something or the other about heading back upstairs. Telling me I was too drunk.

I felt slow, felt dizzy, felt scared, felt angry, felt sad. I felt so sad. I felt so angry and so sad and…

And, my eyebrows furrowed in anger, the shock erasing itself from my frame. I took a deep, drunken breath and followed his trail. Fast. Legs pumping, arms swinging at my sides.

He was at the elevator, looking down at his shoes. I couldn’t get his name out. I think if I did the tears were going to fall out, The sobs were going to ricochet through my whole body and knock me over and kill me and I’d die and I’d never get to see that dumb asses blue eyes any more. Ever again. I wanted to see his blue eyes again. I wanted him to look at me and see me for what he sees me as. I wanted him to touch my hip and wring my neck and tell me I was the only one he wanted. I’d take it. One more time, then he could go back to her. I just wanted a goodbye.

He was stepping into the elevator. The doors were closing. I jammed a hand between and he flinched, again.

I stepped in just as the doors began to shut again. His eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them. He was frozen. Frowning. He looked…sad.

I almost reached a hand out, almost caressed his cheek and pulled him into me. But, I didn’t. Instead, I said (yelled?), “What the fuck is your problem?”

He stammered, “Wha-what?”

I struggled to repeat myself. I needed to cry. It was going to open. But, for another moment, the anger took over, “You fucking heard me. What is your problem, Oliver? What the fuck did I do to deserve this kind of shit? I don’t wanna hear more sad excuses about your fucking mental health and your-your fucking anxiety. God, I- I fucking…I don’t even k- you fucking ignored me back there! I looked right at you and I said your name and I smiled at you and…I’ve been so nice to you. I’ve been nice to you all summer and you treat me like a piece of fucking shit. God, I’ve…I’ve told you so much. I told you about my mom and…and you laid there and you told me all this bullshit about how much you liked me! And then you…youre a fucking-”

I cut myself off, out of breath. I was sweating a little bit. I think I had spit a few times. And I paced the elevator so much that I was flush against the wall. I leaned my shoulders back against the cool metal, wringing my hands, tugging at my hair.

He didn’t say anything. I breathed, hard, I thought, long. I kept thinking, and I kept getting angrier. I turned back to him, rearing up again. I had more to say, I just, I just needed to get some more concise- more thoughtful thoughts, right, exactly. Yes. I can…

“And who the fuck is F-”

“Daisy.”

There it was, my name. It was my name, soft and angelic, and holy. And a moment on his lips that he carved out of time and held a space for, for me to hear.

I stopped. I felt nothing for a moment. I looked at him and he was already waiting to see my eyes. My bottom lip wobbled.

“You’re obviously upset. And, drunk. Why don’t we talk about this in the morning? We can both get some rest.” He was always so good at two very distinct things: pushing stuff (people) aside and speaking to me in a way that felt like a cloud was wrapping itself around me. Like the cloud wanted me to lay in its arm and would coo me to sleep. Like I was safe and loved and-

Loved.

He made me feel loved.

I straightened up a bit at the thought. I pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Who the fuck is Fiona? What the fuck was that all about? Oliver, I’m not going to stand here and beg for you to love me. Or beg for you to come back to me. I just want a goddamn apology. For wasting my time, for playing with my fucking heart. For stringing me along. You knew-”

The tears came. Perfect timing. “You fucking know that I love you. You have known for a very long time. And you are an idiotic fool if you still don’t believe it. But I am not going to play this game with you. I told you that already and now I seriously mean it. I broke my back this summer to make sure that I was who you wanted me to be. So I was cool and chill and could take as much space as you wanted me to. I went with everything you asked of me, I was there when you needed a warm body. I comforted you and…and tried to fucking fix you like I knew you wanted me to. But, I am done. I am done with this. I am done-”

My voice cracked. I swiped an angry, shaking hand across my face. Vision blurred. “I am done with you. This is ridiculous. I don’t know if you meant to, but you have manipulated this situation so that you have been the one benefiting. I’m tired of letting you think you’re some broken, sad puppy dog on the side of the road that needs to be taken care of. Grow the fuck up. And, now I find out that there’s some other woman? That I- I’m the other woman, maybe? That you’re cheating on her with me? That I’m your fucking slut? Side hoe?”

I had paced again, this time, towards him. He was taller than me, but my anger was making me taller. He was almost…cowering. I pointed my finger again, nearly chest to chest with him.

“Fuck you, Oliver. Fuck you and fuck London and fuck your stupid fucking music.”

The doors opened, on our floor. I walked out, but turned to face him before he was really gone from me. I wanted to see his eyes one last time.

He was crying. I popped an arm into the door again, buying myself more time to kick him while he was down. I thought this would bring me closure. I thought I’d feel better if he knew, truly knew, the entirety. Every thought. Every hurt I felt.

“You asked me at the beginning of the summer what I was searching for. I thought that it was you. And I thought that I had found you.”

I shook my head sadly. The doorbell on the elevator rang. I stepped back, “I was right. There is no deeper meaning. Goodbye, Oliver.”

I stood there for a second, as though I could still see his blue eyes, boring through the metal doors.

Then, I sludged my way to my hotel room. I opened the door, shoulders slumped, body aching. I knew my makeup was smeared all over my face. My hair was wrecked. I couldn’t stop sniffling or whimpering. I walked into the room.

Sam sat up in his bed. Ronnie was beside him. I barely made it two more steps before Sam caught me in his arms.

–

The sky was gray. The weather in Europe usually was, especially up here on this side of the continent. I wasn’t surprised when, on our drive to the airport, it started spitting rain. I shivered underneath the cover of my hoodie, yet walked slowly through the entrance.

I remember when I had first dropped down in London, wide-eyed, hopeful. I think it had been raining then, too. But, I hadn’t cared. Come to think of it, it was raining pretty much everyday we had been in London.

Oliver was right about a couple things.

Back then, just three months ago, I hadn’t cared about the sun’s shadow curving from behind the clouds, nor did I mind that it was usually quite chilly outside. Now, I felt anger, annoyance at the weather, at the people, at the world.

At him. The stupid weight of my suitcase. The drag in my step. The wetness of my clothes and the chill of the wind.

I felt older, in the worst way. I was a different age, considering my birthday had passed while I’d been here. But, I felt old in a way that was draining. I felt like I had wasted so much time, energy, and all I had left were weary bones and sadness. Just how much I had left, I didn’t know. But I did know that as soon as I got back home, I would be rotting in my bed for a day or two.

Sam, Max, and Ronnie came to the airport early with me. My flight time had been pulled forward by an hour, so I needed to get here sooner than I thought. I wasn’t complaining, though. I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of the hotel. Out of here. Out of London.

I hurried the process of packing my last few things. Stuffed my breakfast down my throat. Impatiently waited in the taxi, knee bouncing, as Sam and Max loaded the trunk with all of our things. Ronnie slid in beside me and became the first reason that I cried that day.

She reared a look over her shoulder, out the back window, to check on Max and Sam. Then, with an awkward sigh, she turned her knees towards me, “Peaches?”

I glanced up from my lap and the bounce of my knee slowed, “Yeah?”

Upon noticing the somber gaze in her eyes, my brows furrowed. “What’s up?” I added, fully presenting her my full attention.

Ronnie rubbed her nose in a seemingly nervous manner, “I just wanted to say…um, ew. Sorry.”

I softly giggled at her disgust with whatever sentence she was trying to form. “What is it?”

She finally met my eye in a fervently forward manner, “I usually have fun on tour. But this summer was…it was extra special. Getting to know you has been…so cool. I don’t know. I just…I love you, Daisy. You’ve become like a sister to me.”

I couldn’t help but feel the tears well up in my eyes. “Oh, Ronnie,” I sniffled, hugging her around the shoulders.

She pulled me close to her and I swear I heard her sniffle a bit, too. “I’m sorry for not noticing what was happening. I should’ve been there for you more. I got caught up in my own-”

“Don’t even apologize,” I reared back with my reply, “No. It’s nobody’s fault. I’m not even blaming myself for what happened. It was a stupid, weird situation. It was my responsibility to come to you if I needed help. I just needed…I just need to go home now.”

Ronnie smiled a sad, peaceful smile. “I hope I get to see you again soon. I don’t know what I will do without your bright light.”

“Oh, you will. You guys will be in the US soon. Sam said he was gonna drop by. I am positive you’ll be there, too,” I dropped a sly wink.

Ronnie watched my face for a moment, “I mean, of course you know now. But…” she narrowed her eyes, grinning in shocked realisation, “Fucker. You knew the whole time?!”

“Of course I knew the whole time. Sam is-” I snorted, “Sam is not hiding his lovesick, puppy-dog eyes.”

Ronnie’s gaze widened slightly, “I-”

The doors of the taxi popped open as the boys joined us, Max in the back on my other side, Sam in the front. He saw our laughing, secretive expressions in the rearview mirror and turned back. “What are you two doing?”

I brushed my hands across my cheeks to clear whatever tears might’ve been rolling still, then shook my head. “Nothing, Sam-Ham.”

He turned his eyes to Ronnie and tilted his chin forward. She shrugged, a smug smile contorting her once saddened face. Ronnie dropped a wink, “Nothing at all.”

The second person to make me cry was Max. Out of everyone, he was probably my best friend at this point. We had spent so much time together, out drinking, dancing, holed up in my hotel room with trays of room service, movies on the tv. He had been there through one of the most terrifying, exhilarating, strange summers of my life. We were bonded forever, now. I could feel it.

He was helping me check in while Sam and Ronnie headed to drop off our baggage. They were all just planning on hanging for the extra hour until it was time to check in for their flight. I was grateful they all wanted to sacrifice the time for me. To them, though, I knew it was second nature.

Some people made it easy, loving me.

I shook away the thoughts because the attendant was handing me my ticket. She reiterated boarding time, twenty minutes from now, and wished me a safe flight. “Thank you,” I nodded before turning back to Max.

The tall blonde was watching me. I could tell he was on the verge of tears from just the way that his shoulders shrugged forward. It made my heart swell, knowing how much of an impact I had had on them.

He tried to straighten up as I looked him in the eye. Then, he opened his mouth to say something. I threw myself into his arms before he could. Hugging me tight, Max brushed a hand down the back of my head.

“Oh, sweet, lovely angel. I am going to miss you so.”

I didn’t need to hear anything else to start crying into his chest. Max felt the rock of my shoulders and sniffled into my hairline. “Don’t start, love. I won’t be able to stop, myself,” he chuckled shortly.

We stood like that for a few minutes, maybe more, before I stepped back. I rubbed my eyes on the inside of my sweatshirt, knowing my face was flushed and probably swelling. Max touched his fingers to my wrists and gently brushed aside my hands. He took in my visage, so delicately, and sighed. “Can I just say…”

“Oh, no!” I exclaimed through a sob. More tears fell.

Max rubbed my shoulders, “No, no, no, love. It’s okay. No more tears, okay? We’ll be okay. Just…I just want- I need to tell you how important you are. I know you’re going to go home and things are going to start to settle and you’re going to start to think so many things about yourself. You are so easy to love, Daisy. It is like breathing to me, to Ronnie, to Sam, Sasha. It is breathing. And you are worthy of it, too. That’s all. I just…I just needed to tell you, okay?”

I didn’t say anything else. I just whimpered and pulled him in closer to me.

Sam was the worst.

Since the evening before, when I had broken down in his arms and told him, through my blubbering, a short synopsis of what had happened, we hadn’t spoken much. I didn’t know if it was simply because we didn't have enough time. But, I was feeling worse because of it.

I needed my big brother more than anybody else. Sam knew me better than anybody else, even if we hadn’t been around each other as often as we used to. He still understood me. We shared the same blood, for God’s sake.

Yet, as we sat there, in the waiting area of my plane’s gate, he didn’t even look at me. He stared down at the floor, hands folded in his lap. He sat across from Ronnie, Max, and I, making it known that he wanted nothing to do with the conversation. When he first sat there, the aisle a wide gap between us, I furrowed my brows. But, then, Ronnie and Max striked up some topic that I invested myself and my attention into.

It didn’t seem like that big of a deal until they called for me. I stood up, faster than I should’ve, to be honest, and began to gather my things. Phone, bag, jacket, passport. I ran the list over in my head, three times over.

All the while, Sam slowly stood, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and watched his feet as he scuffed his sneakers across the carpeted floor.

I passed my eyes over him for a moment, holding my breath. Surely, my brother would have something to say to me.

He didn’t make a move.

I began walking the short distance to my gate. Before I moved to get in line, though, I turned back to my friends. Max jumped for a hug first, barely allowing me enough time to fully settle back on my heels. I dug my feet into the ground to gain traction as his ginormous body came toppling into my arms. Ronnie joined in the hug yet struggled to toss her arms over Max’s tall frame. He adjusted as we all shared a laugh and tucked her in beside me.

He called over his shoulder, voice muffled, “Get in here, Sam-Ham!”

I heard my brother elicit a laugh. It felt refreshing to hear. Then, I felt the hug grow tighter as he joined in on Max’s other side. We didn’t stay like that for long. It was stuffy and I wasn’t getting much air.

So, I tapped Max’s back and said, “Alright. Let me go.”

I gave individual hugs to everybody, voicing my own grateful, somewhat short, goodbyes.

Then, I turned to my brother. He evaded my eye contact for a moment or two. Then he pulled me in. Tight.

Out of nowhere, “I’m sorry if he ruined your summer.”

Tensing up from the words, the mention of him, I slowly pulled back from Sam’s embrace. He held onto my back, sort of cradling me. The guilt lying in his eyes was far worse than anything I’d ever seen flash across his face. My own gaze softened from the taut expression it had anxiously contorted to.

“What?” I breathily inquired, unsure if I had heard him correctly, saddened that he was obviously carrying so much hurt from my stupid mistakes. “Why? Sam, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, Daz, I just…” Sam’s arms fell from around me. I missed the warmth as soon as the chill of the vast room settled in around my sweatshirt. He ran a veiny hand across his forehead, “I'm supposed to be there for you. Protect you. And I already suck at the first part.”

“Sam,” I grasped his wrist, slipping his fingers between my hands. “It’s not your fault. It’s…honestly, if my summer was ruined, it was because of my own shitty decisions. Besides, you don’t suck at being there for me. I can’t believe you would even think that!”

I clasped his hand tight between mine, brows furrowed. To hear him blame himself, to hear him look this way…This whole summer, I had spent my time obsessing over somebody who didn’t even want me. I should have paid more attention to my brother, who was part of the reason I was here in the first place.

The farther I got from the start of this journey, literally and figuratively, the blurrier my original dreams became. There was no meaning to find here- only what was already there.

The thought made me lick my lips in nervous realisation.

Sam let out a frustrated, breathy chortle. “Don’t give me so much credit. I’ve been…gone. Running away from home. For so long. Worried about getting out of that apartment and town and away from…from anything that could remind me of her. Remind me of mom. I left you behind in the process.”

The wetness in my eyes began to pour over. “Oh, Sam,” my lips trembled out as I dove back into his arms. I dug my fingers into his shoulders, holding onto him as though an airplane would dive down and pull him away. I needed this. This kind of hug. This moment.

Clarity was nearer than ever before.

“Listen,” I pulled back, “I need you to understand, okay? My summer was not ruined. It wasn’t. This entire experience has been the most amazing, wonderful, awesome, cool time. I got to spend so much time getting to see you, getting to see your world. And, don’t ever blame yourself for getting away. You had to. I see it now- You had to come be a part of this wonderful band, go with them on all of their amazing tours. I see it on your face, Sam. This is what you’re supposed to do, okay? My mistakes are my own. Not yours.”

“I just…” Sam stared at the floor for a moment, tongue quick to go and defend his original claim But he paused and let the information process. “I…I just wish I could punch him in the face or something. What a douche. Dragging you into his mess. I should’ve known, too. The way he treated you- it was so obvious. For that, I am sorry, Daisy. I should’ve said something. Honestly,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I should beat his ass.”

Max and Ronnie, who had been trying to make it appear as though they were not eavesdropping, laughed at the last line. I opened up Sam and I’s moment by taking a step back. I gave them space to join us here. Ronnie clasped Sam’s hand and rested her head on his shoulder, “As funny as that would be, he is still your boss. And your bandmate,” she nodded to Max.

The tall blond rolled his eyes with a scoff, “Don’t worry. I’ll try to keep it civil.”

It was my turn to scold. I punched Max in the shoulder to gain his eye contact, “Don’t try. Just do it. He’s not a bad person. He just…sucks. A little bit.”

Talking about him, living in the truth of the situation, confronting all the dark realizations- it was a heavy weight to bear. I felt my shoulder slinking forward, as though I were Atlas with the dark, cloudy sky above me. Though I didn’t want to be rid of these three, I needed to be gone already. I needed to go before it all came crashing down again. I didn’t want anybody else to see me cry again. It was…embarrassing, to say the least.

So, I allowed one last hug from each of them and then turned towards my gate. I boarded the plane, mindlessly, going through all of the motions. Like I was used to leaving, like I was good at it. Like I was strong. But, I felt weak. I felt heavy and sad and angry and…

The city was gray. I remember it being sunny, summer-weather, though there had been a chill in the air. He always said it was. Maybe it always had been and I was…crazy. Wide-eyed. Desperate or naive or whatever.

But it was clear as day now, how dreary it looked from this airplane window. The wind whipped at the airline workers, shuffling luggage to their places, green vests billowing up. My breath fogged at the window which narrowed my pointed gaze. It seemed the plane was being pumped full of heat. I hadn’t realized it was that cold outside.

I guess fall was coming.

“Ladies and gentleman, this is your reminder to place your devices on airplane mode. We are approaching take-off,” a thick, European accent declared over the PA system.

I wrestled to retrieve my phone from my bookbag, which was squished in between my feet. When I was able to lift it towards me, the screen lit up. There was a buzz from the device that vibrated my hand then the appearance of a text message.

Oliver: Daisy, I need to tell you…

The message cut itself off, only the sneakpeek visible due to the system settings I had on my device.

It was ominous, though, like it had chosen to cut itself off there.

The tail end of that message could be- anything.

Daisy, I need to tell you…you’re a dumb bitch?

…I fucking hate you.

I love you?

Please, stay?

I don’t think I wanted to know.

My thumb hesitated over the screen, barely gracing it’s smooth glass. If I tapped on the message, if I saw what he said…would it change things?

Would it make me hate him even more?

Would it make me want to stay?

I didn’t want anything else to make my decisions anymore. I wanted to make my own choices, based on my own actions, thoughts. I was tired of living up to everybody’s image of me. If that was all I learned this summer, to be true to what I wanted, to be true to myself…then maybe this summer wasn’t so bad after all.

Maybe there had been something to find- maybe that something was me.

The shaking in my hands must’ve made the screen react to a ghost of my fingerprint. The option to scan my face ID came as soon as a flight attendant passed by my section, a bright smile on their face.

“Hi, friend! Did you put your device on airplane mode?” They asked with a slight gesture towards my phone.

I glanced back at the screen as she pointed. The message was open. That’s where it had ended, what Oliver had sent to me. “I need to tell you something.” But, he was still typing, still coming up with words to say.

My hands moved quickly, sliding down the menu and thumbing the airplane option. If he were still typing, I couldn’t see it anymore.

And any messages he may try to send would go green, undelivered, lost.

Forgotten, in the skies, somewhere between London and Germany, during the beginning of a cold, cold autumn.

[darthannie]

purpose statement

part two of thesis statement

Pairing: professor!Jim x f!reader

Summary: After spending the night at your professor’s house, you’re left wondering what the hell you’re gonna do next.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: 18+ please for the love of god, age gap (reader is 24, Jim is 43), morning sex, kissing, praise, dom!Jim, p in v, oral, budding d/s relationship(?)

a/n: I’m back. Kinda! I'll make a post about it! But, here's part two of thesis statement! Read the first one if you'd like. Jim english professor confirmed (to me lol). I might turn this into a series but I'm not too sure yet. This one ends with kind of a cliffhanger, so there might be a part three. Anywho, enjoy!

A leg drapes over yours.

A hand grabs your stomach.

Warm air hits the back of your neck.

His nose softly brushes across your shoulder as he presses a kiss there. And all through this, you’re just barely awake. You sigh into the feeling, pressing your back against his chest. You didn’t know what time it was, and you couldn’t care less. He tightend his embrace. You try to scoot closer to him as if that was even possible. You wanted to be completely engulfed by him. You had a ton of questions, but for now, you were mute. This was as good as it was going to get. After a minute, you manage to turn around and face him before burying youself in his chest.

“Mornin’”, he sighs. 

“Ugh, what time is it?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” He kisses the top of your head as silence settles around the both of you. 

“What’s going through your head?”, he asks. 

“Why were you in the shop that day?”

“Well… It was part dare and part curiosity. And another part of me wanted to try out a toy for the first time.”

“You left in quite a rush.”

“Well, yes a certain student graced me with her presence.”

You blush and meet his eyes, remembering the interaction. “Did you go back?”

“Oh, no.” he chuckles. 

“Why not.”

“I have my toy right here.”

“Jim…”, I said faining annoyance and rolling my eyes at him

“Sorry, sorry that was lame. However, you have to admit it’s true,” his voice darkens, “Are you gonna go home and touch yourself or would you rather have the real thing?”

Your breath hitched. “I-I’d rather have the real thing.” You placed your hand on his chest as if to confirm his existance. He was real and you were indeed in bed with him. In bed with your professor. 

He kissed your forehead, “Right. That’s exactly right… Class is cancelled by the way.” He said it so matter-of-factly. Like it was as easy as that. And, apparently, it was. 

“Check your email.”

You rolled over and grabbed your phone that was magically plugged into a charger, Jim’s doing. You opened up your email and there it was. Among spam emails about the latest 20% off sale at the campus store was an email from Jim. 

“Due to unforeseen circumstances, class today is cancelled. See you all next week ready to work. Best, Jim”

You dropped your phone on the bed. “Jim… What? Why?”

“Because I would rather spend my day in bed with a beautiful woman.” He pulled you into a kiss. “Is that a crime?”

“Well, I just thought-“ You’re cut off by a hand reaching down to you hip. His other hand squeezes between the mattress and your body. You yelp as he guides you to straddle him. You help him along and he looks up at you, teasing you as he cocks his head to the side. “You thought what?”

Your hands lay on his chest. You feels him hard under you. “I thought it was a one night thing. I thought that was it.”

“Oh, no, love I meant it when I said you were mine. I mean. If you want to be of course.”

“What like a friends with benefits situation?”

He tilted his head side to side as if weighing his options. “Yeah, something like that.”

You jaw unhinged to speak but no sound came out. You sat back on his lap, feeling him dig into you a bit more. He spoke before you could muster anything up, “You don’t have to make a decision right now. I don’t want to force you into any type of arrangement or anything. However-“

“However,” you grinded your hips, “what?”

He held in a groan, “However, I really want to be inside you right now, love… Please…” His hands rested on your thighs and he lifted his hips to show you how much he wanted it. He pulled you down into a kiss and wrapped his arms around you. You ran your fingers through his hair and pulled him away to make room. You moved down to kiss his neck. His breath got caught in his throat as you liked a stripe up his neck and reached down under the covers. He let out a hiss as your hand went under his underwear and wrapped around his cock. 

“How are you already so hard?” You woke up ready to tease and he only bucked his hips up in response as you released him.

“Baby, please-“

“Please what?”

He moaned again. “I need-“

“Need what?”

He exhaled, “Fuck.” He flipped her over so she was on her back. He hungrily kissed her neck and nipped at her ear. He grabs onto one of her tits and feels the weight of it in your hand. He moves down to suck on it as she moan his name. He pulls back up and kisses your lips. “Tell me I can take what I want.”

“Jim, I-“

“Tell me, love. Tell me I can take whatever I want.”

You have never been more turned on in your life. You looked him in the eye and say “You can take whatever you want.”

You didn’t even realize he was lining himself up with your wet hole. He plunged into you right as you finished your sentence. He moves in slow thrusts and focuses on you, wanting to see take in you expression. 

He looks down at your body. He wants nothing more than to worship every inch. Everything about this is wrong. It should have been avoided at all costs, but instead of focusing on that he focuses on draging his hand the curve of you hips. He focuses on how your breast fits perfectly in his hand. He focuses on the taste of your lips. It doesn’t matter how wrong this is. He wants all of you.

You’re sweating. Your hair is messy. Nothing about you is put together, and he thinks you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you are so fucking gorgeous.” He kissed her right as he finished his sentence. 

“You’re amazing,” he kissed your cheek, “and you’re a damn good writer.”

He whispered the last part into your ear and kissed your neck. Your giggle turned into a moan as you felt him shift to a new spot inside of you, suddenly hitting where you needed him most.  A groan left him as he repositioned himself, thrusting harder and moving to cup your face. Desperate. He was desperate for you.

You pulled him closer to you, needing to feel his body against yours again. He picked up the pace when your fingers laced through his hair, guiding his mouth to your neck. Your other hand firmly held is arm to brace yourself for an orgasm that has yet to come. He nipped at your neck, careful not to leave marks. All the sensations at once motivated you to let go of his arm and reach for your clit. He chuckled and removed your hand from between your bodies, earning him a whimper. He pinned your arm above your head. 

“Ask me.” You only whimpered in response. 

“Go ahead, use your words. Ask me.“

A quiet “please” was all you could utter. 

“Please, what? Please stop?” he said as he slowed his pace. 

“No!” 

“Then, what? What do you want to do, love?”

“I want to rub my clit while you fuck me.” You spoke barely above whisper and he heard you, but it didn’t matter. He wanted you to beg. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” 

You groaned, growing more needy and annoyed as every second passed. “Please…”

“Say it, babygirl.” He thrust suddenly. Hard and deep.  

“Ah! Please, let me rub my clit while you fuck me. Please, please, please!” 

He grinned and gripped your wrist. He moved your arm in between your bodies and you immediately began touching yourself. Your head tilted back as your eyes rolled back and closed. It was better than anything you could have imagined. You opened your eyes to find Jim looking down and staring where your bodies met. He slowed down and watched as he entered you. 

“Jim, please, don’t stop. I’m so close.” 

He pulled out and watched your expression twist from one of pleasure to one of desperation. 

“Jim,” you drew out his name, “fuck, why!”

“I need to taste you.” He started to move down.

“Jim, please. Just-“

“Are you my good girl?”, he challenged you

You nodded and he shook his head. 

“Words.”

“I’m a good girl.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, I’m a very, very good girl.” 

“Then let me eat this pussy.”

He moved down til his face was between your legs. He licked from your wet hole to your clit. You moaned as he licked and sucked. After a few seconds he stopped. 

“Do you deserve my cum, baby? 

“Yes! Please. Please, I deserve it!”

“Tell me you want me. Tell me how bad you need me.” His voice was low. He needed to hear you say it. 

“I want you. I really, really want you.. Fuck, I need you.” You let out a long moan as he went back to your clit with more determination than before. You pressed his head deeper between your legs as he devoured you. He reached up to grab your free hand, lacing his fingers with yours. You bucked your hips up and he moved with you. 

“I want you inside me. I want your cum inside me again. I want it over and over and over again.” 

He pulled back for air, cursed under his breath, and quickly lined himself up again. 

You kissed him as he entered you slowly again. The kiss was messy and wanton. You tasted yourself on his tongue. His thumb rubbed your clit and your hips absentmindedly met his. 

“Jim,” your voice thin, “I’m gonna-.” 

“Let go, love. I’m right behind you.” 

He let you ride your high before he finished inside you. Spent and panting he didn’t dare move. You were sweaty, exhausted, and experiencing pure bliss. His hands caressed your sides as he soothed you. It was only when you both came down that he pulled out and dragged you towards him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head. 

“You were so good,” he whispered, “You were so good for me. So perfect for me...”

You hummed and cuddled into his chest. You felt a bit of awkwardness starting to creep in. You didn’t know how to feel. Submitting to him even the tiniest bit felt like a burden on him, even if he indulged in your every desire. You racked your brain, trying to figure out what to even say in return to you were “so perfect”. You went a little rigid and moved away from him just enough to lift your hand. 

“Thank you. Nice job. Go team.” You mentally facepalmed. You couldn’t figure out what else to say, so you landed on something you’d say after a corporate team building exercise. Or, at least, it felt detached enough that you wouldn’t have to confront your feelings for him.

He laughed and obliged the high five. Then, he laced his fingers with yours and gave the back of your hand a kiss. 

He playfully rolled his eyes, “Darling, why are you getting awkward on me now?” 

You looked up at him and lost yourself in his eyes. He stared back at you with a newfound curiosity. He was searching for a way into your head so that he could finally have some clarity in his life. He just wanted to know if he was right about something, someone, this time. 

“I’m not getting awkward I’m just-“

“Deflecting.” His look said “I’m right aren’t I?” and you half rolled your eyes.

He sighed and rubbed his thumb against your shoulder. “You, my dear, need some advice.”

“Dear god, here comes Professor Ji-.”

“Let. Go.” The soft smile on his face made you feel safe instantly.

You exhaled though your nose, “Pardon?” 

“Let go. Give into… this, whatever this is. Just let go. Let it happen. I’ll be here to catch you.”

“I… How do I know you’re not lying?”

“You don’t. But, I’m asking you to trust me.”

“I trust you.”

“No, not me as your professor. Me as your-“

“As my what? What are you to me exactly? You’re not my partner. We’re not dating. So you as my what?” His comment through you for a loop. You were apprehensive. The last thing you wanted to do was get too attached. 

“As your escape.”

He was right. You desperately needed this. It was an appitite you could never satiate. Yet, you laid with the only person that ever fulfilled your needs and you wondered how much more he could do for you. You wondered how much further you could go, how much deeper this dynamic could go. How much of himself he was willing to give to you? Not to mention, how would you keep this life separate from your life at school? You were both adults, but things like this cloud a persons judgement. 

He continued, “I know you. I can tell what you enjoy just from your writing. You write about romance and relationship dymanics often. I can tell what you’re into based on your word choice alone. I believe it was you that wrote “There’s a certain type of desperation that takes over when you give yourself, your body, to someone else.” I know you, darling. I know what you need and I know how to give it to you. Just let me.”