#she got this big to get where she needed to get

[princessflorida]

saying they've "lost their final bargaining chip" is so incredibly ludicrous and revolution fantasy to me honestly. no they didnt. their final "bargaining chip" is extortion and coercive force. it's how they got to where they are now. and force will be required to stop them. fascists dont just run out of bargaining chips. WE are the chips. and they're doing a very successful job at farming us. they wont run out.

if they truly had lost THEE FINAL bargaining chip for "keeping the masses working for them", then they'd lose. because we wouldn't be working for them. but we still are. literally no one has stopped. because we have to have a roof over our head and food, especially people that have kids. or people that have meds they HAVE to pay for or they die, etc.

IF they EVER lose "the final bargaining chip keeping the masses working for them" it will be because it was taken by force. the final chip is being allowed to stay alive. the final chip is not starving to death or dying from exposure.

i can tell when people say stuff like this they've never been homeless or lived poverty at best, and at worst are usually chronically online kids who have never had to pay bills and have never had to choose between having a roof or eating. i can telk they've never once had to worry about where their next meal was coming from, have never had to steal food to stay alive, had to do risky fucked up shit not to die in the heat or the cold, etc.

our compliance will not be rewarded with anything other than JUST barely getting enough food and sleep to stay alive. alive, not well or healthy. just alive. starve an animal and watch what it's willing to do to get food. itll do anything. so will we. our coercive forced compliance is rewarded with not dying. and the vast majority of people, especially those who have kids to make sure don't starve to death, will stoop to any level to make sure those mouths get fed. and i don't mean the snitch bitch from mcdonalds. she can rot. i mean that saying "theyve lost the final bargaining chip keeping the masses working for them" sounds like the chronically online teenage revolution fantasy from someone who's parents pay their phone bill, and their way through college, and bought them a car etc. like you're really not convincing me you've ever gone hungry once. clearly the masses are still working for them. nothing has changed.

the adjuster (luigi is innocent til proven guilty can yall stop saying he did it sybau snitches youre as bad as the mcds lady by doing that), whoever he is, did a heroic and powerful thing. and "the masses" simply ARE NOT willing to organize and follow in his footsteps. they'd rather keep working bc they need food and a roof NOW. until we combat that with community mutual aid and organization on a large level, their "last bargaining chip" is our lives.

think about what you're saying before you say it. seriously. the chronically online revolutionary fantasy shit pmo so bad. all i see nowadays trying to organize w people is that no one wants to ACTUALLY do anything, they just want to keep working for the masses while pretending that bitching online is some sort of radical revolutionary activist shit that actually does something (it doesnt). and those of us who actly are willing are so outnumbered and poor, disabled, sick etc that WE'RE the ones who need the fucking help. anyone above our tax bracket, middle class, who pretends to be into this shit when it comes time to try to do that? crickets.

let me know when yall are ACTUALLY ready to adjust the world in favor of humanity's sustainable survival ourselves. ill be waiting. ill probably die waiting. the adjuster has shown us we cant change the world alone. we need numbers. big numbers. enough of us that they can't just throw us in prison and make an example out of us.

bc right now the rich/elite/1%/politicians are sitting and laughing at dumbass tweets like this knowing the people posting them won't even break a single misdemeanor law much less do worse. they don't let the snitches in the club, and they know the people against them won't crash the club either. even losing 1 of their own, did that stop UHC? did it stop for profit healthcare? no. a lot more deaths will have to happen for any of that to stop, bc they will not stop for any reason other than being dead. and they know their club is untouchable both to snitch asskissers and those against them. bc we dont try. bc of the threat of violence and death. the end.

[ijenoyou]

Ojos lindos.

Joaquín Torres x StarkF!Reader

WARNINGS: none rlly i think it’s just some nice fluff strangers to friends :3

note: helllowwwww it’s been a while since i’ve written sum for marvel lol anywayssss i rlly enjoyed the new cap movie!! and def did enjoy danny ramirez as the new falcon :3 so yeah i hope yall like this ohhh and if i like this storyline enough i’ll probably make it into a series ;) OH also the reader is supposed to be iron heart !!

Since Sam needed a new team for the Avengers the very first person that came to his mind, aside from Joaquín, was you. You definitely had Tony Stark’s brilliant mind and that helped you build your own suit not wanting to use the one your father made you while you were stuck in the Blip.

And Sam needs someone like that, smart, strong and brave. So when you offered to help him rebuild the team he was more than happy that you did. And he even was more happier to the fact that he got to see you. Since the passing of Tony Stark you disappeared leaving him with the wonder of where you went.

But you had to. Thanos had blasted you with the power of all the stones the moment he saw you get ahold of the gauntlet not knowing that the mixture of the power would cause your body to absorbe it.

So you had new powers, one’s that are quite hard to control, so you did what was safe to the people you care for which was disappear.

But now all was good, your powers are more than safe to use now that you know your way around them. And when Sam found out about the things you could do he knew in his heart he should take you under his wing just like he did with Joaquín Torres.

“She told we could have any room we want.” Sam told Joaquín when they arrived to the old Avengers base.

The both of them grabbed their own baggage and began walking inside the building.

Joaquín’s eyes were shining like crazy. He always thought being an Avenger wasn’t something in his path.

“Uncle Sam!” You said as soon as you saw them walking to the area that had all the old rooms the old team used. You arrived earlier since you wanted to clean up the area for the new arrivals.

Sam smiled and left his things on the floor, he then extended his arms signaling for you to hug him. Since you were quite far holding a broom you decided to teleport.

Joaquín hadn’t seen something like that. The pink glow that appeared in front of him when you appeared of the blue was something that surprised him and it made him lift the right corner of his lip, amused to the fact you were clearly too lazy to walk a few steps to greet Sam.

“So, this is my new child, also known as the new Falcon, Joaquín Torres.” Sam said while grabbing Joaquín’s shoulder.

Your eyes traveled towards him and smiled. You looked different from what he was used to. One of your eyes had a pink glow and the other didn’t, he tried not to let his thoughts show on his face after seeing your new appearance.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sam’s been talking a lot about you since we were on our way.” Joaquín said while reaching his hand out for you to shake. “I’m a big fan of your work, I was a volunteer on the charity you created a few months ago.”

Your smile became even bigger at the mention of the charity you created in honor of the fallen Avengers.

“Really? Thank you so much! I thought I recognized your face from somewhere else.” You said with a sweet tone. “People usually tell me about my father’s work and not mine so thank you, really.” You shook his hand.

Warm.

That’s what he felt inside him when he touched you. He noticed how small your hand was compared to his and how soft your skin felt against his calloused palm.

The both of you didn’t notice how Sam walked out the scene and began searching for a specific room. He wanted the one Steve used since he heard amazing stories about the incredible shower head pressure.

“Want help finding a room?” You said while taking one of this bags from the floor.

“Oh don’t worry I’ll take it!” He tried to take the bag from you.

Too late. You had already teleported a few feet away from him with a playful smile.

“Come! I think you might like this room.”

He smiled and nodded.

He walked behind you for a few moments when you stopped in front of a door that had the number 10 on it. You pushed a few numbers on the pad that was next to the door and the door opened by sliding.

“This one used to be one of my favorite rooms. “ You said with a soft tone.

You left Joaquín’s bag on an old chair and turned to him with your hand on your hips.

“You like it? The view here is amazing, my favorite out of all the rooms.”

He couldn’t believe his eyes. This room had a perfect view to the forest that connected to the base, he couldn’t help but notice how big the room is. Way bigger than he ever imagined with huge windows and a balcony that already had some furniture on it.

“I really do.” He left his things on the floor next to the old chair and walked to stand next to you. Admiring the view.

“My father built quite a lot of rooms for everyone.” You said. “He wanted everyone living under the same roof.” You smiled at the memory of the old team fighting to get the nicest rooms over the base.

Joaquín turned to see you.

You not noticing that he much preferred to have you as the increíble view you mentioned instead of the forest.

“Que ojos tan lindos.” He didn’t realized what he said until you turned towards him with a lifted eyebrow and small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“You think? I’m still getting used to the new color but it’s quite cool.” He didn’t know you understood spanish. A blush began spreading to his face and his right hand scratched the back of his neck with a bashful smile.

“Sorry I just..” He tried to speak but being caught red handed specially by you made him lose control of his words.

“It’s fine!” Your shoulder pushed his. “I don’t mind people looking at my eye, I mean, the staring was bound to happen.” You explained and began walking away from him. “I’ll let you get settled okay? Dinner’s at 8! I’m cooking enchiladas, hope that’s okay.”

Joaquín nodded. “I love enchiladas.” You gave him a thumbs up and walked out the room.

He turned again and stared at the windows for a few seconds until he registered what you said about the staring. He quickly turned on his heel and sprinted to the hall. “For the record I wasn’t staring at your eye! I was just admiring them!” He shouted for you to hear.

A big laugh was all he hear from down the hall. He smiled and turned which caused him to have a mini heart attack at the sight of Sam behind him.

“Dude! Make some noise the next time you stand behind me.” Joaquín said while putting a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat at a fast pace.

Sam made a face at him. That damn look Sam had almost all of the time when he found something cheeky. Like he knew a secret about you.

“You and little Stark became friends really fast uh?” Was all he said while crossing his arms over his chest.

[ ]

A plate of enchiladas appeared in front of Joaquín and Sam’s eyes.

“Here you go!” You said while sitting in front of them at the aisle of the kitchen instead of the big dinning room. You had said it felt way bigger with just the three of you, but Sam reassured you that with time and effort that would soon change.

“So, do you know when Bucky’s coming?” Sam asked while cutting his enchiladas.

You nodded, your hand reaching for a napkin. “Yes! He told me he’s coming next week after he visits the wakandians for a new update on his arm.” You explained after taking a big gulp of your iced coca cola. “He’s been staying up here with me for a while so his room is already set up.”

That caught Joaquín’s full attention and Sam noticed. Sam decided to play a little game with the knowledge he now has. His new child had a crush on little Stark. Oh my, how small the world is.

“Really? And what do you guys do? I’m assuming is just the two of you.” Sam told you with a cheeky sneer.

Your cheeks became flushed and that made Joaquín furrow his eyebrows, just a little.

“Well we just spend time next to one another you know? Sometimes I’ll be reading and he would be sitting next to me while he learns how to share a TikTok.” You explained with your eyes locked on your food.

Sam lifted an eyebrows and began asking more things to get a rise out of Joaquín. “How nice of him, right Joaquín?” Sam elbowed him causing him to cough.

“Oh? Yeah…”

“He doesn’t stay a lot.” You explained sensing the weird tension in the air. “He sometimes comes when I tell him I miss my father.”

The strings of Joaquín’s heart were pulled. He couldn’t imagine what you felt. From what Sam told him, it was just you and Tony Stark. He then met Pepper and became partners but for a while it was just the two of you, against everything.

He knew your father was your rock, he was all you had since your mother died while giving birth, the doctors not noticing she was having an internal bleeding causing her to slip away without too much fuss. The info being shared by Sam.

“But now, you two are here so I won’t be feeling as lonely as before.” Sam nodded as the same time Joaquín did.

After dinner Sam had to take a call from the White House, leaving you with Joaquín to wash all of the dirty dishes you used.

It was nice. Joaquín felt a cozy vibe coming from the moment, soft jazz music playing on the background, you next to him drying the plates with a cloth he would give you after he scrubbed them.

“I totally think he faked that call because he didn’t want to help wash the dishes.” You said playfully.

A laughed erupted from Joaquín’s chest and nodded. “For sure! I mean did you see the look he gave us when he stood up?”

Now it was your time to laugh. “That damn look he has! It’s like he knows something about you, isn’t it?” The both of you exploded of laughter. Making fun of Sam was one of your favorite hobbies now that he was more present in your life.

“Thank you for the compliment by the way.” He heard you say while putting the last plate on its designated place. “Yo también pienso que tienes unos ojos muy lindos.”

He almost choked when he heard those words coming past your lips.

“I didn’t know you spoke spanish.” He explained bashful.

“Tony made me learn quite a handful of languages when I was a kid.” You told him. “Spanish was my favorite by far, I think it’s a very romantic language, don’t you think?”

“It sure is.” Was all he said while turning his body to you.

The both of you didn’t notice how close your bodies were. He could feel the warmth coming from your body, that’s how close he was to you. He could see with clear perfection every lash and every beauty mark on your face. His eyes stopping their path on yours. Joaquín could see the pink glow with perfection and it felt like time stopped.

He wasn’t attracted to your eyes just because of the pink color but because he felt really seen under your gaze. It felt like you were going under every inch and corner of his mind, leaving your mark in it.

And you felt the same thing.

“I-I think it’s quite late, isn’t it?” Your voice brought him back to reality.

He stepped back, instantly missing the warmth of your body. He cleared his throat and sighed.

“Oh right.” He spoke. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

Your lips curled and nodded. “Of course.” Your voice came out almost as a whisper. “I’m off to sleep, if you need anything my room is next to yours actually.”

He bit his bottom lip and smiled. “Okay then, sleep well mini Stark.” That damned nickname Thor gave you years ago made your skin tickle. A funny feeling forming inside your chest.

**

Que ojos tan lindos - what beautiful eyes

Yo también pienso que tienes unos ojos muy lindos - I also think you have beautiful eyes

[russo-woso]

First match || Alessia Russo x reader

Request | Masterlist

Summary Bubba has her first match

-> Part of the A New Adventure universe

When the date came through for the beginning of the season, you and Alessia went a bit… crazy.

And no it’s not the beginning of the season for the two of you, instead it was the beginning of the season for Florence.

Wren and her teammates were old enough now to start playing in a youth league.

It was something you and Alessia had been dreaming of since you found out you were having a baby.

With the two of you being footballers, your baby was bound to have some kind of sporting gene, and like you suspected, Florence ended up being a football lover.

She jumped up and down with excitement when you told her she’d be playing her first match in only a matter of weeks.

It was big deal, your bubba’s first match, and you’d prepared for it for a long time but nothing could have prepared you for Alessia’s reaction.

“We’ve got to go.” Alessia had said once you’d told her.

“Where?”

“To sports direct. She needs new boots, new gloves, shin pads, everything bubba could need.” Alessia rambled, running to put her shoes and coat on.

“Lessi, baby, calm down. She’s got all that stuff.”

“I got boots, mummy, look.” Florence pointed out, pointing the predators next to her kit bag that was lying around due to Florence having training later that day.

“I know, bubba, but you’ve got to have the best gear.”

“Less…”

“Nope, come on, let’s go.”

Despite you and Alessia being strikers, Florence had an undoubtedly incredible talent in goal.

Which lead you to standing in front of the glove section at sports direct.

“I want the ones auntie Mary wears.” Florence said, holding the pair of puma gloves in her hands.

“Wren, me and mama have sponsors with adidas, you can’t wear puma.” Alessia explained, handing a pair of adidas gloves to Florence.

“No, I want auntie Mary’s gloves.” Florence wailed, stomping her foot in anger.

“Hey! Wren you don’t stomp your foot.” You told her

“Sorry, mama.” The four year old apologised, her bottom lip trembling as her eyes welled with tears.

“Let her have them. She’s a four year old girl and the gloves are pink, they’re clearly the ones she’s gonna pick.” You whispered to Alessia

“Wren, bubba, do you really want auntie Mary’s gloves?”

“Yes!” Florence exclaimed, her face brightening up as the following words left Alessia’s mouth.

“You can have them.”

“Thank you, mummy.” Florence said, jumping onto Alessia.

“You’re so welcome, bubba.” Alessia whispered, holding Florence close. “Now which boots do you want?”

“The ones auntie LeLe wears.”

“The Nike ones?”

“Yes!”

“That’s even worse…”

After a very expensive shopping trip, and lots of preparation, the day of the match was finally here.

You and Alessia were bundled in layers as you braved the cold around you.

Florence had woken the two of you up at six o’clock, jumping on your bed full of excitement.

You couldn’t stay mad at her for long. One look at her blue eyes and the anger was gone.

You had gotten her ready in her kit, getting emotional as you looked at her.

Her shirt was far too big for her and although she was still small, she had a confident look on her face.

Alessia quietly entered the room, wrapping her arm around your waist as you both looked at your daughter.

Alessia also had tears in her eyes, clearly just as emotional as you were.

“Mummy, mama, why you cry?” Florence asked

“You’re growing up so quickly, bubba. Can you not just stay this small?” You told her, kissing her head as you enveloped her in a hug.

“Mama, I’m a growing girl. I got to grow. I always be your bubba though.”

That just made you burst out into tears.

Florence wrapped her arms around your’s and Alessia’s legs whilst Alessia hugged you.

The three of you had stayed hugging for a moment or two before the realisation that you’d be late hit.

When you got to the pitch, Florence started sprinting to her teammates, not even saying goodbye to the two of you.

Alessia took your hand in hers as you walked towards the other parents.

Greeting them with a smile, you soon started a conversation about how nervous you were for the team’s first game.

The conversation soon stopped when about thirty voices were heard behind you.

Turning around, you were met with all the Arsenal girls plus a few other friends from the England squad or passed teams.

“What’re they all doing here?” You whispered to Alessia

“I mentioned Wrens first game to Kyra and it spread throughout the team.” Alessia explained

You’d mentioned it to a few close teammates and friends, just a few - Tooney, Lotte, and Mary - and promised to film clips for them but what you didn’t expect was for the whole team to come.

“What’re all you lot doing here?” You asked with a smile, hugging everyone as they focused on the pitch - attempting to spot the future lioness.

“We’ve come to watch our favourite keeper, no offence Daph.” Leah said, looking towards Daphne who just smiled at the comment.

“What about me though? I thought I was your favourite keeper.” A voice exclaimed

“Mary? Why are you here?” Alessia questioned, hugging Mary tightly before Mary hugged you.

“I couldn’t not see my mini me play her first game.” Mary told you, waving at Florence who had spotted her auntie Mary straight away.

“Auntie Mary!” Florence screamed, running and jumping into Mary’s arms.

“Hi, mini keeper. Oh my, look at your gloves!”

“Your gloves, auntie Mary.”

Alessia rolled her eyes as the topic arose again - it being a sensitive topic in your household.

“Mummy doesn’t like them, but I love them!” Wren exclaimed

“Wren, bubba, you need to go warm up. It will be kick off soon.” You reminded her as Mary put her back on the floor.

Both you and alessia crouched down to be in line with your daughter.

“Me and mummy are so proud of you, Wren.” You whispered as you hugged her.

“You’re going to do so well, bubba.” Alessia told her, kissing her head.

As Florence ran back into the field, cheers were heard from the sideline that was entirely made up of the Arsenal squad.

You and alessia smiled, looking at all your daughter’s aunties who had turned up to watch her first game.

Florence was so loved and If it wasn’t obvious before, it was definitely obvious now.

Both teams were ready now, everyone in their correct positions.

Just before the whistle blew, you watched Florence take seven jumps.

“Lessi, look.” You pointed to Florence

“I’m gonna cry.” Alessia said, her voice breaking as tears welled in her eyes - the moment already being overwhelming but seeing that was the cherry on top.

The whistle blew and the game soon kicked off.

“Am I late? Did I miss it?” A Manchester accent shouted

“Tooney! You came from Manchester?”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world? Where is she?” Ella asked as the two of you pointed to Florence stood in goal, her little face full of concentration.

“Go on, Wren!” Ella cheered, her voice echoing around the field.

“Auntie Tooney, too loud!” Wren scowled

“That told you.”

“You were incredible out there, bubba!” You said, picking wren up as she walked over after the game.

“A clean sheet and player of the match? I must be a good coach.” Mary said, fist bumping Florence as alessia swooped her up into her arms.

“My bubba played her first game!”

“Mummy, I’m not a baby!”

“You’ll always be mine and mamas baby. Even when you’re thirty.”

“Even when I’m a lioness?” Wren asked

“Even when you’re a gunner and lioness. Me and mama will always be your biggest fan, cheering you on in the crowd.”

“You’re going to be England future star, bubba.”

Florence smiled, a glint in her eyes as she imagined herself in goal at Wembley.

“If you can dream it, you can do it, baby.” You told her, kissing her cheek.

“I’m going to play at Tottenham.” Florence revealed - the Tottenham Hotspur stadium being one of the only stadiums she can remember.

“I’m sorry, what did you say, Missy?” Leah asked, her eyes wide.

“Tottenham!”

“We need to sit and have a chat.”

[akawifeyy]

silly girl | smau (LN4)

description: the life of a comedian is full of laughter, but the biggest punchline? your experience with love.

tropes: chaos galore, he's obsessed with her, sunshine x sunshine, age gap (23 and 25), comedian!fem!reader

face claim: faith collins

trigger warnings: suggestive content, some mature jokes, swearing

| note: hehehe i love this fic 🫶

@ yourusername: dallas was incredible, i had the best time laughing with you all! a recorded video of tonight's show is posted at the link in my bio if you couldn't make it. see you next weekend in austin 😘

tagged: @ standupcomedy

comments (2567):

@ user1: Amazing shows! I went to Night 2 and I couldn't breathe, I was laughing so hard. Wish I bought tickets for the other two nights.

-> @ user2: sooo real, i got to see her in miami and i felt like my heart was going to explode from laughing

@ user3: Incredible job, so proud 💖

@ user4: Mother has fed us during this tour, I never want it to end

@ yourbffusername: SCREAMING CRYING, I love you SO much Y/N

@ f1: Just 3 more days until COTA! How are you gearing up for the Grand Prix?

tagged: @ mclaren, @ mercedes, @ redbullracing, & 6 more

comments (49584):

@ landonorris: Can't wait to be a cowboy again 🤠

@ user5: COTAAAA MY BELOVED

@ user6: so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@ user7: No because I'm actually a second away from crashing out because I just realized @ yourusername's show is at the same time as the Austin GP

-> @ user8: wait nonono you're joking 😭 i bought tickets too

10/19/25 at Y/N's Show (Transcript):

Y/N L/N: I feel like if I don't bring this up, the masses are going to come at me with pitchforks. (clearing throat) Today's a pretty big day in Austin. Um, Formula One is having its COTA Grand Prix.

Audience members: (whooping)

Y/N L/N: Yeah, looks like we have quite a few F1 fans in here. I'd kind of consider myself one, but please don't ask me what DRS stands for off the top of my head or what Ferrari's strategies are during races, because I wouldn't be able to tell you. But anyways, I found out that I scheduled this show at the same time as the GP.

Audience member: (loud yelling noise)

Y/N L/N: (breaks down laughing) Yep, I know. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. But I totally get it. Seeing a bunch of rich, hot men drive around in circles? Like, aw man, where did my pants go? I swear they were just on. (continues giggling) Seriously, though, some of those drivers? It should be illegal how attractive they are. Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris. Oh God, don't even get me started on Lando Norris.

Y/N L/N: (eyes widen dramatically) I never liked brunettes or Englishmen, but he might just make me change my mind.

Interview with Lando Norris (2025):

Interviewer: Have you seen the clips from Y/N L/N's most recent comedy show here in Austin?

Lando Norris: (laughs) Yes, I heard about it!

Interviewer: Thoughts?

Lando Norris: She's very funny. I like her sense of humor. But as for relationships, I have to focus on my racing, so I can't get distracted. Sorry!

10/20/25 at Y/N's Show (Transcript):

Y/N L/N: So... Yesterday's show. (makes popping sound with lips) Some of y'all, I feel like I need to ban you – and before you boo, let me explain why. I made jokes about Formula One drivers, and how hot they are, and a select few of you decided to out me? (mock gasp)

Y/N L/N: Yeah, I know! Fucking Lando Norris was interviewed about me! Isn't that insane? This ultra-rich motor sport driver was asked about some redhead girl who yaps for a living. And he called me funny? I need to put this on my resume.

Audience member: You two need to date!

Y/N L/N: The matchmaking is insane. Oh God, wait until my mother hears about this, then I'm actually cooked. I'm 23 years old, I have a lot of biological time left, but you're vultures! When is it going to end? And don't say, "When you get married to Lando Norris", because it's not happening. Sadly.

@ ynupdates: Contrary to popular belief, Y/N did have a boyfriend! This was way back in 2019 to 2022. His name is Emmett Ellgren, and they dated for three years until their mutual split. Since then, Y/N has poked fun at the relationship, but no substantial details have been released about their break up.

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (2942):

@ user9: HELP i forgot about emmett he's such an npc 😮‍💨

@ user10: emmett is no longer relevant to the lore

-> @ user2: The real man we should be paying attention to is Lando Norris

-> @ user8: i know omg 😭

comments (3842):

@ user11: They're both silly gooses, I'm scared to see the havoc they'll wreak together in McLaren 🥲

@ user12: i'll believe it when i see it

@ user13: Lando is too immature to have a stable girlfriend

-> @ user3: which is why Y/N's perfect, they'll be immature together 🥰

-> @ user4: This just proves you've never watched one of Y/N's shows before lmao

Y/N's Instagram Story (2025):

comments (8521):

@ user13: OMG OMG OMG IT'S STARTING

-> @ user14: I'm so glad I get to be alive during the LandoY/N era

@ user12: It'll be so funny if this turns out to be from Oscar or something 🙃

-> @ user15: HELP

Text Messages between Y/N and Lando (2025):

@ landonorris: P3 in Mexico! Awesome results

tagged: @ mclaren, @ f1, @ yourusername

comments (64312):

@ user16: ALERT ALERT Y/N HAS BEEN TAGGED

@ user13: guys i'm actually gonna combust 🫣🔥

-> @ user17: They're together, it has to be

@ yourusername: nice sombrero 😋

-> @ landonorris: Thank you!!!

Text Messages between Y/N and Lando (2025):

@ yourusername: hola mexico 🇲🇽

tagged: @ landonorris

comments (3846):

@ yourbffusername: Looks so fun!

-> @ yourusername: yes it was incredible

@ user10: laaandoooo i see you 👀

@ user18: How does it feel to be living my dream

@ landonorris: So glad you could make it, had a lot of fun talking to you

@ f1gossip: It is rumored that comedian Y/N L/N and McLaren driver Lando Norris are together, after Y/N posted a photo of her receiving paddock passes, and the pair responded to one another's posts about the Mexico Grand Prix.

tagged: @ yourusername, @ landonorris

comments (1293):

@ user9: i'm waitinggg

@ user10: this is worse than the wait for reputation tv

-> @ user18: clowning so hard i know 😖

@ user19: HAVE ANY OF YOU GUYS SEEN LANDO'S INSTA STORY? 🤯

Lando's Deleted Instagram Story:

comments (235):

@ user20: OMGOMGDSDKLSDDNS

@ user21: my eyes are not deceiving me, this is y/n

@ user5: Y/N IS THAT YOU 😳

@ landonorris: OK OK yes I give in, we are together. Happy one month, @ yourusername, I love you to the moon and back!

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (34852):

@ user21: classic Lando accidentally posting the wrong thing and outing himself

-> @ user22: idk what else we would expect from chaos incarnate 😭

@ yourusername: love you too, muppet 😘

Interview with Lando Norris (2025):

Interviewer: So, you've just recently announced that you're dating Y/N L/N!

Lando Norris: Yes, I'm really happy about it.

Interviewer: Any plans to bring her to the next race?

Lando Norris: Maybe, we'll see. (laughs and smiles) The paddock is a lot cheerier when she's there, so hopefully, fingers crossed. I'm very, very lucky to call her mine.

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[rosefyrefyre]

I grew up in a very rich area of the US (Westchester County, NY) and went to a private Conservative Jewish school through 6th grade, then public school after (but a public school where a solid 50+ kids in my grade of 300 were Jewish). So I did see a lot of the "typical" rich kid bar/bat/b'nai mitzvahs.

But the truth is, a lot of it isn't necessarily as "fancy" as people think.

Like, my bat mitzvah party was in the gym of the synagogue, and that was extremely typical -- because you could do your party at your synagogue for *cheap*. Most of my friends and family had their parties in their synagogue gyms. And a lot of them weren't decorated at all other than the tablecloths.

*Everyone* knew who the one really rich family was, the one that spent way too much on each of the kids' b'nai mitzvah parties. It was too conspicuous consumption for most of us, though, and while people were somewhat jealous, it was also in a very "can you *believe* them?" sort of way.

On the opposite end, my friend Lindsay decided she didn't want the big party, so she had the service (including the Torah reading, etc.) and then...did something private with her parents, I forget the details (it was almost 30 years ago), instead of a party. She wasn't the only one either, just the one I remember best.

And as other people have said in the comments, pretty much all the money I got as gifts went straight into the savings account to pay for college, and then I spent two months writing thank you notes for all of them.

Also, the focus really is on the learning and on becoming a Jewish adult. I spent a solid year studying -- learning two aliyot of my Torah portion, my haftarah, a large portion of the service so I could lead it, and writing a speech. And that was on top of going to school.

And honestly, one of the most validating aspects of becoming bat mitzvah was that my dad's mother died four months after my bat mitzvah and I was able to go to synagogue with my father once a week and help make the minyan (quorum of ten Jewish adults needed in order to say certain prayers) because, even though I was 12, I counted as a Jewish adult. I have extremely fond memories of going to synagogue with my dad every Tuesday morning and then going to get bagels before he dropped me off at school.

The bat mitzvah ceremony and party were nice, but they didn't last. The other impacts did.

I'm just gonna say something, Bar/Bat/B'nai mitzvahs are a celebration, they often but not always come with an after party and depending on the means of the parents of the lucky 13 year old they can be over the top sometimes. Much like rich kids with sweet 16s or Quinceañera.

okay thats out of the way, what I wanted to say is, I'm SICK of every media depiction of a Bar/Bat Mitzvah as a 100 million dollar, biggest party on the planet celebration of conspicuous consumption. Almost ALWAYS missing the you know Bar Mitzvah itself, and again depicting Jews over and over again as INSANELY wealthy. Like not everyone, hell not MOST people's Bar Mitzvah was huge and expensive.

another thing, I know by definition no 13 year old is cool, by definition they are greasy and annoying and cringe. But EVERY depiction of a Bar/Bat Mitzvah where the boy or girl of the hour is both an awkward loser and (particularly the boys) sleazy little creeps who are trying WAY too hard to impressive with their garishly massive (and expensive) party (and how often they quote how much something costs as if a 13 year old would know or care) it just seem a little close to the old antisemitic stereotype of Jews as crass and uncouth social climbers desperately trying to use their money to buy their way into classy society and forever failing.

[archangeldyke-all]

omg hi angel!! I just saw the gym teacher Sev x English teacher reader thing and idk if this was just my middle/high school experience, but I remember at my school during pep rallies sometimes, teachers would divide up into teams and play a sport against each other (usually football or basketball, sometimes softball) as a fun thing to get everyone excited. Sometimes it'd be teachers against students too if you wanna go that route. I dunno maybe you could write something where reader and Sevika are preparing for that?

Maybe a reader who's clumsy/not well versed in sports who already has a somewhat flirty relationship with Sevika asking Sev to help train her alone/teach her about whatever sport theyre going to play so she doesnt embarass herself in front of the entire staff and student body? They could have a whole competitive-flirting thing going on during the one on one training where they end up doing some cheesy shit like stumbling over one another and kissing while they're on the ground lol

KENNIE THIS IS SOOOOOOOOO CUTEEE

men and minors dni

"babe, you're supposed to kick it to me." sevika giggles.

you huff and stomp your foot, stooping over to grab a stick from the field and toss it at your girlfriend. "that's what i tried to do!" you whine. sevika giggles, easily dodging the stick and kicking the ball back to you.

"i can't believe i'm dating somebody who can't even pass a soccer ball."

"yeah, well, i'm dating somebody who refuses to read anything published before 1950--"

"they write so old-timey, i can hardly understand them!" sevika whines, starting up the rant she's perfected in her time with you. you giggle and approach your girlfriend, kicking the ball from its spot between her feet and taking its place. sevika wraps her arms around your waist, smiling down at you. "you're done practicing already?" she guesses.

you giggle and stand on your tiptoes to kiss your girlfriend. she sighs against your lips.

sevika dragged you out to the park today as an attempt to 'train' you for the big students vs. teachers soccer game coming up in a month. in previous years, you've stayed on the sidelines with the other un-athletic teachers, laughing and gossiping and handing out ice packs to your injured co-workers and students. sevika's convinced to get you off the bleachers and onto the field this year, swearing that now that she's your girlfriend, some of her athleticism has to have rubbed off on you.

"i packed a picnic basket in the car... we can set up under that little group of trees?" you ask, blinking sweetly up at sevika. she rolls her eyes and picks up her soccer ball.

"you're lucky you're cute." she huffs, shaking her head as she starts walking you toward the car. you giggle.

"i made your favorite."

"meatball sandwiches?" sevika asks, her eyes lighting up a bit. you grin and nod.

"packed extra napkins too." you say. sevika laughs and kisses your temple.

"so when i asked you to come to the park for training today, you had your own plan this whole time?" she asks. you grin.

"well, duh. did you really think i'd be kicking around a soccer ball for more than thirty minutes?"

"fuck, the teachers are never gonna beat the kids." sevika whines as you open up the car. you giggle, pulling the basket out as she stores all her soccer gear.

"i don't know why you ever think you will, babe. you're a buncha forty year olds playing against kids whose primary food source is energy drinks."

"between me, ran and vander we've got a solid defensive side! we just need somebody fast. with good aim."

"and you thought that would be me?" you tease again.

sevika giggles as she helps you spread out the picnic blanket. "maybe not. maybe i just wanted to see you sweaty and panting." she says with a wink.

you laugh as you sit down on the blanket, dragging sevika to sit next to you. "i can think of much better ways to get sweaty with you than playing soccer, baby." you say. sevika raises a suspicious eyebrow at you.

"last time you said that we spent our saturday in your classroom building bookshelves."

you giggle. "well, we were sweaty weren't we?"

sevika shakes her head and pushes the basket out of the way, before she tackles you and pins you to the blanket. you grin up at her as she gazes down at you. "so lucky you're cute." she mumbles from above you.

you giggle. "are you gonna kiss me or are you just gonna stare?"

sevika rolls her eyes and tries to hide her smile as she ducks down to press her lips to yours. you can feel the curve of her lips against yours, though.

and just as you start to thread your fingers through her hair, the bird noise and wind surrounding you is interrupted by a shriek.

you both jump, and when you sit up on the blanket you make direct eye contact with jinx and ekko, both wearing a pair of rollerskates on their feet and horrified looks of disgust on their faces.

"it's sevika?!" jinx squeals from the sidewalk, not even bothering to greet you.

"i told you you'd never guess." you say with a shrug.

"you're supposed to call me 'coach--'"

"oh janna-- ekko, hold my hair, i'm about to be sick."

ekko snorts, pulls his girlfriends braids into his grasp, and then waves at the pair of you with his free hand. "hey teach. coach. beautiful sunday, isn't it?" he asks awkwardly.

beside you, sevika bursts into giggles.

kofi

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@nanajustnana-a @helaenabugmom

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

[loves1ckmoth]

CLINGY

Loser!Ellie x Reader

Warnings ♡: Fem!reader as always, needy/clingy ellie, Ellie cries after losing reader in the mall, reader comforts her, reader talks more than she usually does in my regular fics, she's more dominant as well, reader and ellie almost pounce on eachother, ellie helps reader put on a dress in a changing room, they kiss a couple times, petnames (my girl, els, darling)

Word Count♡: 1193

Clingy. A word Ellie heard all too often from previous partners. You’d never call her that, no, of course not. You liked her never straying from your side. But it got difficult in crowded areas. Especially on days like today.

You wanted to go out to the mall to pick up a few things. First, your favorite lipstick ran out. Then your friend texted you about an event, and then the dress you were going to wear to said event ripped when you tried it on. The nail in the coffin? Your favorite perfume ran out.

So here you were, walking around a crowded mall on a Friday afternoon. You would’ve prepared to wait, but the event was tomorrow and you needed your things now. Ellie said she’d tag along under the guise of wanting new games, but you knew it was because she didn’t want to be alone at the house.

Sadly enough for you both, everyone in their mother had decided to come as well. It must’ve been a big sale day. That only meant you’d have a better selection of things. While you were grabbing a new bottle at your perfume place, Ellie had distracted herself with some cologne. While you grabbed two bottles of your favorite, you saw a sign.

“Buy two get one free.” As if the universe had planned it all out, Ellie wandered back to your side. “Find something you like, darling?” You ask. She shrugs, but you can tell something’s caught her eye. She’s never been one for subtlety.

“Go grab it. The sign says it’ll be for free. But let me smell it first. I don’t want you smelling of something awful.” She beams and dashes off to grab it. When you sniff it, you find the smell more pleasant than most colognes. You agree and take it up the register. She taps her fingers impatiently as the woman behind the counter rings you up.

You lead her out of the store and she looks through the bag. She eyes your perfume. “Did you need two?” She asks softly. You nod in response. “I’d prefer to come back less. These last me a couple of months each. It’ll at least be half a year before we come back. Though… I did see some room sprays. Perhaps I’ll grab one if they’re discounted.”

You two walk in silence as you navigate through the crowd, trying to pinpoint which store you need to stop at is closer. You only notice her hand slipping from yours too late. By the time you’ve escaped the crowds and into the dress store, Ellie is nowhere to be seen. Your heart twinges and you’re sure she must be panicking somewhere by now.

You walk up to the store clerk and speak softly to her. “Hi, would you mind holding onto my bag? I’m here to buy a dress but I’m afraid I’ve lost my partner. I promise I’ll be right back.” The clerk nods and sets the bag behind the counter.

You leave the store and try to peer out into the crowds, your worry only growing when you don’t spot her. You tap an embarrassing amount of shoulders of girls who look like her, only to apologize when they aren’t. When you don’t find her in the crowds, you try stores. When she isn’t there, you finally check the mall bathrooms. There is where you finally find her.

The moment you walk in, you hear sniveling from a stall. You knock gently, prepared for the embarrassment if it turns out to not be her. “Ellie, are you in there?” Your voice gently rings out in the emptiness of the bathroom. A whimper sounds out from inside the stall and it slowly opens.

She sits there, eyes red and puffy and she grabs you tight. You coo softly, holding her back. “There’s my girl. I was looking all over. Stupid me, then. Should’ve checked my phone for you. Silly me, right?” Your voice is calm, and she looks you over. “Didn’t mean to let go. Shouldn’t have cried like this.”

You shake your head and kiss her lips. “You’re fine. We’ll get all this sorted, yeah?” You caress her softly and bring her out of the bathroom. You wash her face and dry her with a few paper towels before bringing her out with you. This time, you squeeze her hand extra tight so you don’t lose her.

By the time you manage to get back to the dress store, your hair is mussed up from brushing shoulders with everyone in the damn place. Ellie tries her best to fix it for you, and you giggle as she sticks her tongue out to concentrate. You nod and move her hands away from your hair, returning to what you set out here for originally.

You get your bag of perfumes back from the clerk, and Ellie checks inside to ensure you have all your belongings. Ellie is subdued slightly from her losing you earlier, but she does her best to help you pick out a new dress. You’d prefer one like the one you ripped, but when you don’t find something similar, you try to find something else you like. Ellie is attentive, doing her best to find something you’ll like.

Ellie prioritizes comfort overall, and as she looks at the dresses in the store, she realizes comfort might be harder to come by. But, she manages to find the perfect one. Appropriate for big and small events, and comfortable. She brings it over to you as you frown at an ugly feather dress covered in patterns that don’t mesh.

“You find anything good, Els?” You ask, slowly turning only for her to shove the dress in your direction and accidentally into your face. You splutter as you’re met with fabric and Ellie frantically apologizes and pulls it back. Once your face is out of the dress, you take it into your hands to study it. You smile up at Ellie. “This is nice. I assume you want me to try it on?”

She nods fervently, then shakes her head, then flushes bright red, leaving her face blotchy. “Pretty please?” The puppy face she has makes you want to tackle her and ravage her right in the middle of the store, but you hold yourself back. You have more self-control than she does.

“Come on, it’s got a zipper. I’ll need help putting it on.” That’s all you have to say to have her scurrying alongside you and shoving you into the dressing room. You slip out of your regular clothes and have her zip up the dress for you. You smooth it all out and look in the mirror. “Is it all good in the back, Els?”

She gulps, her eyes glancing between you and the dress. She nods slowly and twirls you around to get a better feel of the dress. “Perfect.” You smile and take it off again. “Good. We’ll get it, I’ll grab some new lipstick, and we’ll get you some new games. Alright?”

She hums an agreement this time and grips you tight as you leave.

Second post of today 😵‍💫 I managed to get a lot of writing done today ♡ Hope you all like this one!! Likes and reblogs are most appreciated ♡

[ur-sick-and-married]

JUST NEED A LITTLE LOVE • ABBY ANDERSON

CONTENTS: afab/female reader, mentions of blood, business woman Abby!

SUMMARY: Abby takes care of you when you have your period.

A/N: I’m supposed to get my period soon so obviously I’m gonna write an Abby Anderson one shot inspired by it.

Abby got home to a silent apartment. This was very unusual. Normally, you were practically tackling her, going on and on about how much you missed her. So the silence was…unsettling.

“Babe?” She called out, leaving her messenger style bag on the kitchen counter.

She peeked in the living room, but you weren’t there. She quickly made her way to the bedroom. She was getting nervous.

“Babe…?” She repeated when she saw a lump in the big bed, which is how you had spent most of your day.

You pretended to be asleep. You didn’t want to talk. What you really wanted was a damn hysterectomy. Your stomach had been aching all day, and no matter what painkiller you took, yoga pose you did, how much water you drank…the cramps wouldn’t go away.

You heard Abby moving around. The closet door opened. You knew it was because she had taken her work shoes off when you stopped hearing the clicking of the heel.

You felt the mattress shifting, and then she was behind you, a hand on your head.

“I know you’re awake…” She whispered while playing with your hair. “You’re too tense to be asleep.”

“How was work?” You asked quietly, giving up on faking sleep.

“Fine.” She responded, focused on you. “What’s wrong?”

“Just don’t feel great…”

Her grip on you tightened with worry. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s my period.” You muttered.

She immediately understood what you were feeling. She hugged you tightly, her face buried in your hair.

“Aw, I’m sorry…” She sighed. “I know it’s really fucking annoying. Cramps?”

You nodded, groaning softly. “They’re so bad, Abs…no matter what I do, it still hurts like a bitch.”

She kissed your head a few times, as if that would soothe the pain in your middle.

“Don’t worry, I’m here to take care of you now.” She promised.

She tugged off her work shirt and pants, leaving her in just a bra and underwear. She lifted the sheets to slip in beside you, but paused.

“You’ve been lying here for a while, huh?” She said quietly.

“I guess…” You answered, a little ashamed to admit it. “Why?”

“You bled through…”

Sure enough, there was a stain on the sheets, and your legs.

“Dammit!” You moaned. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart!” She said quickly. “Let’s get you in the shower.”

She easily picked you up, and carried you into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, making sure it was warming up.

“You get in there, and I’ll join you in a few minutes.” She told you.

“Okay.” You agreed.

She left you alone to get undressed. The hot shower felt amazing against your aching muscles. You rinsed yourself off, not wanting to be messy when Abby eventually got in.

Abby stripped the bed, and tossed the sheets in the laundry. Then she came back to the bathroom, where she got in the shower with you.

“Don’t worry about the mess.” She said softly. “It’s taken care of.”

“Thank you…” You sighed.

“Of course…anything for you.” She smiled. “Now let’s focus on getting you taken care of.”

She got your favorite body wash and a cloth, and started to wash your body. She let you lean on her as she did so. The pain in your stomach radiated to your legs, making standing uncomfortable. She had a strong hold on you, though. She wasn’t gonna let you fall.

“I got ya…” She murmured a few times, reassuring you.

Once your skin was squeaky clean, she got out some face wash, and started massaging your temples. Her hands slid down your face, and she squished your cheeks, making you laugh.

“Abby…” You giggled softly.

“There’s that smile.” She grinned. “You’re so gorgeous, baby…even when you’re on your period. It doesn’t bother me at all. I get it too. You know it doesn’t bother me, right?”

“I’m starting to get that, yeah.” You teased.

You two finished up in the shower, then Abby wrapped you both in fluffy towels. She went to get pajamas to give you a minute of privacy in the bathroom.

“Here…” She handed you some comfy clothes when she came back. “I thought you might want to wear one of my shirts.”

She had gotten you some pajama shorts, and a top of hers, some ratty old t-shirt that was insanely comfortable.

You both got dressed. You were feeling a bit better. The hot shower helped relieve some of your aches and pains, but not completely.

“You hungry, angel?” Abby asked, pulling you into her arms.

“Maybe a little.” You answered.

“You’re probably not super into eating right now…” She said. “But it might help you feel better. I’ll make you anything you want.”

You thought hard for a second, trying to figure out what you could possibly eat. Nothing sounded appealing.

“We could order from that place down the street…” She hummed.

That immediately got your attention. It was your favorite place for takeout. Just the thought of it almost made your stomach growl for the first time all day.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Abby laughed when she saw your eyes light up. “You wanna order when I make the bed?”

She went to get new sheets then started making the bed, while you put in your order for food. Once the bed was finished, Abby tucked you back in, making sure you were comfy.

“How are the cramps?”

“Still there…” You sighed.

She laid beside you, like she had before. Her hand slipped under the blankets. “Is it okay if I rub your stomach?”

You nodded. She carefully started massaging your stomach, right where the cramps were the worst. The warmth of her hands quickly helped ease the pain.

“I’ll do this until the food gets here.” She murmured. “Then we’ll eat and you can take some pain medication. I don’t want you taking it on an empty stomach.”

“Thank you, Abs…” You whispered. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome, baby,” She smiled. “But what else was I gonna do? Leave you all alone while in pain. No way, princess…you just need a little love.”

[mommyslittlebird]

Prelude

Stepmama!Wanda x Reader

Summary: Things with your mother had never been good, but when you truly couldn’t take it anymore, you turned to the only place you had left.

Word Count: ~2k ish

CW: MOMMY ISSUES, leaving home, references to past/current abuse.

A/N: Please leave your comments and thoughts on this! I’m not really sure where I want to take this series yet, and I would love to hear what you all want to see!

Prelude to Mama

———————————————————

You weren’t exactly sure what would be the final straw in the relationship between you and your mother, but you had always imagined it’d be something big. You always thought there would be one final moment, when she did something crazy, like maybe she would make some threat on your life or chase you out of the house with a knife or set all of your things on fire.

But it wasn’t like that at all.

There were no threats, no shouting, no one even raised their voice. It was just like any other Thursday afternoon, really. You were going through the cupboard, looking for something to eat for dinner. As usual, they were largely empty aside from some dry pasta, some stale potato chips, some cereal that would require milk you didn’t have, and some various unlabelled cans. You grabbed the cereal. You could make something work. You always did.

Your mother came into the kitchen snacking on a bag of Blue Diamond almonds. She shook the bag and held it out to you. “Do you want some almonds?”

You froze briefly. You were allergic to nuts. “No thanks. I'm allergic, remember?”

She tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “No you’re not. Since when are you allergic to almonds?”

Since second grade. You had eaten some at a birthday party and went into anaphylactic shock in a bouncy castle. You had to be taken to the hospital. You ruined the whole party. You cried everyday for the rest of the school year because no one wanted to talk to the weird kid who had to get a shot in her butt cheek at a birthday party. You never got invited to another one. How could she not remember?

You looked at her silently for a long while. This wasn’t worth fighting over. You couldn’t expect her to remember everything about you. But the longer you looked at her, the more it seemed like she might not know anything about you at all. She knew you as her daughter, of course. She knew you as a good student: quiet, reserved, always well-behaved. She knew you as someone smart enough to do taxes, handy enough to fix the broken things around the house, resourceful enough to make dinner even with an empty cupboard. But none of those things were really you, they were all things you did for her.

Did she even know that there was you outside of her?

You had given her the opportunity to. You’d given her many opportunities to. In a lot of ways, that made it worse. You had opened your heart to her only to be told she didn’t want to see it. And here she was, looking at you like she didn’t even know you had a heart to open.

You started to feel dizzy, nauseated by the woman standing in front of you. At first, you couldn’t possibly comprehend that you had come out of her. You seemed so separated that it was impossible that the two of you had ever been connected in any way. Then, it seemed the opposite, that you were never really separated at all. It was now as it had been before you even came into the world: you were a part of her on every level.

And the worst part was, you couldn’t even bring yourself to be angry with her.

Just as you were an extension of her, she was an extension of everything that had happened to her. You could see it swirling inside of her: a maelstrom of trauma, pain, and mental illness. She was just as much a victim as she was a perpetrator. She wasn’t a monster, she was just a sick woman who never got the help she needed.

“It doesn’t matter,” you finally answered.

She shrugged and walked away. You calmly set the cereal back in the cabinet, swallowing your hurt and trying to make it dinner. You leaned forward to rest your head on the cupboard. What were you doing here?

Clearly she didn’t care that you were here. So what was holding you in this house? Why were you choosing this life where nothing was ever clean, there was never any food, and only other person around was a woman who couldn’t even remember your nut allergy.

The room felt like it was shrinking in on you making it hard to breathe. You felt incredibly tiny, yet like you were still taking up too much space. You had to get out of here.

You didn’t even put shoes on before running out of the house, grabbing your keys and throwing yourself into the driver’s seat. You could hardly see the road through your tears. You were in no state to be driving at all, really, but, miraculously, you made it safely across town to the home your dad lived in with your stepmother, Wanda.

Your father, as usual, was away on a business trip. You didn’t know your stepmother that well, but she was a kind woman that you figured would be welcoming. It was your house as much as it was hers, after all. Anything was better than what you were running from.

Going to your father’s house on a week he wasn’t home wouldn’t have been your first choice. Then again, you weren’t exactly in a place to be picky. It was nearly midnight by this point and it was pouring rain. Your father’s guest room would at least have a warm, dry bed for you to sleep in, which was more than you would get anywhere else. You doubted you could even find a vacant hotel room at this hour, not that you had the money for that anyway.

Wanda opened the thin curtain in the dining room when she saw the bright headlights. The driveway was long and far from the road, so headlights were rare, especially this late at night. Her heart jumped to her throat when she saw it was your car. The front door was open before you were even on the porch. You stumbled inside, soaked in cold rain and tears.

“Honey, what happened?” she gasped, running to grab a towel to dry you off. She grabbed a nice fluffy towel, scrubbing your hair dry. She wrapped it around your shoulders, trying to get your frail body to stop shaking. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing but a small squeak came out. You were crying so hard you had to hold onto the banister to stay upright. She wrapped an arm around your waist, bracing you against her own body.

She slung your arm around her shoulder, trying to help you up the stairs. “Shshsh, baby,” she cooed, cradling your head and kissing your temple. “Let’s get you wrapped up and warm. You're gonna be okay. I’ve got you.” She eventually got you up to the guest room, the room she had long considered to be yours anyway. She sat you down on the edge of the bed before turning to grab some spare clothes from the wardrobe. She placed them in a folded pile next to you and knelt down in front of you, placing herself on your level.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe here. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you,” she soothed, rubbing your knee gently. “Just take a few deep breaths for me. Do you think you can tell me what happened?”

“M-mom…” was the only word you could choke out.

She nodded in understanding. “Something happened with your mom?”

You nodded and blabbered, but she could see you were just getting frustrated with your inability to speak.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Take your time, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” Wanda reassured, trying to quell your rising frustration. “Did she hurt you?”

You shook your head. “N-no. It was… well it was stupid, really. She… well, I was hungry… and she gave me… al-almonds.”

“Almonds?” Wanda’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. She rolled up your sleeve and pushed two fingers into the skin of your wrist, as if she was checking whether or not you were alive in front of her. Her other hand went up to cradle the side of your head, pressing her thumb to your cheekbone. “You didn’t eat any, did you? Do you have your EpiPen with you? I have an extra in the closet. I can…”

“No,” you interrupted. “I didn’t eat any. I’m okay. I just… I can’t believe she forgot. I mean I guess I can’t expect her to remember everything about me, but… I don’t know… this felt important.”

“Honey,” she started, tone growing a bit harsher. She wasn’t upset with you, but you could feel the anger radiating off of her. “She could’ve killed you. That isn’t just something that slips your mind. That’s carelessness. A carelessness that could have cost you dearly. God she shouldn’t even be eating almonds in the same room as you! Agh!”

You jumped a little bit. She felt a twinge of guilt. The last thing you needed right now was someone to scare you even more. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you.”

“I know,” you sniffled. “I just… I know she didn’t mean to hurt me. She just forgot…”

“My love,” she started, cradling your face again, “do you know what these sheets are made of?”

You shook your head.

“Cotton. And it’s washed with hypoallergenic laundry detergent. Because I know my baby has sensitive skin, and polyester and scented detergents make you itchy. And you don’t stay here very often, but when you do, you deserve a nice soft bed that doesn’t break you out,” she explained. “I know you may not think of me as your mama, and that’s okay. You don’t have to. But know that I’d sooner forget my own name than forget you take your coffee with two creams and a sugar. It comes to me as natural as breathing. Because that’s what mama’s do. They love. They care. And they never forget.”

“But… she’s… she’s sick,” you stammered. “Her head… she’s… she’s in so much pain Wanda.”

She squeezed your hand. “Her pain is not a crucifix, sweetheart. You don’t not need to martyr yourself on it. She’s hurting you.” She lifted your head, forcing you to look at her. Her voice was quiet, regretful, even. As if it pained her to admit she’d let you live with her for so long. The more you spoke the clearer it became that this problem ran much deeper than almonds. Bile rose in her throat as she imagined what you had been through, even just in the year she’d known you. She should’ve seen it sooner, but she would not let you suffer any longer. “Baby. Please.”

You wanted to argue back: tell her that it wasn’t that your mother was bad, she just had a harder time being gentle and loving. Her head didn’t always work right. That’s why she treated you the way she did: not because she didn’t love or care about you, but because she was sick and broken.

You wanted to tell her that you weren’t weary or afraid of your mother, just that sick part of her. It wasn’t her; it was different. But then you took a long look into Wanda’s eyes. You felt her hand, soft and warm against your face. And you weren’t weary. And you weren’t afraid. There was no monster rippling under the surface, no eggshells under your feet. There was just Wanda. Your mama.

You fell forward, off the bed and into her arms. She caught you, pulling you against her chest and cradling your head into her shoulder while you cried. She gently pet your wet hair, soothing you and rocking you in her arms. “I know, baby. I know,” she whispered, kissing right next to your ear. “You deserve so much better, my love. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything she ever did and didn’t do. I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I would’ve come, if I had known. I will always come for you, I swear. But you don’t have to live like that anymore. I’m gonna take care of you, angel. Mama’s got you.”

You grabbed her shirt, balling it up in your fists like you were afraid she’d fly away. She rocked you, adjusting to sit on the floor with you in her lap. She cried too, remorseful and guilty for every second she let you rot in that house. She cried for the evenings you had gone hungry, the nights she hadn’t cradled you in her arms, and every biting action that had made you believe you were anything less than a miracle. It would never happen again. She would never let it happen.

You felt so small and frail in her arms. What kind of person could hurt a little angel like you? She wanted to burn down the other half of the city just thinking about it. She would drain every ounce of blood from your mother’s miserable veins if I could replace even a drop she took from you.

She rubbed your back and kissed your head, cooing words of reassurance and praise until your sobs turned to sniffles.

“Mama…” you cried softly into her neck. Her heart nearly lept from her chest. That was her. She was your mama.

She smiled, looking down at you. She lifted your head to rub your nose against her’s. “That’s right, baby. I’m your mama, and I’m never gonna let you go.”

[slvbun]

A MESS OF HIS MAKING ♡ Rafe Cameron

content: Rafe Cameron x bimbo reader!, slut shaming, dumbification, degrading, humiliation, coke, size kink, breeding kink, creampie, belly bulge, choking, +18 minors do not interact.

a/n: I'll always love bimbo reader so myyyyuch<3

The bass thumped through the sprawling beach house, vibrating the walls and rattling the glassware as the party raged on. It was a chaotic mess of excess, half-naked bodies grinding against each other, the sharp tang of tequila and weed hanging heavy in the air, and the shimmering pool outside reflecting the neon lights strung up everywhere. Tonight was her night. The bimbo birthday girl, all dolled up in a skintight pink dress that barely covered her ass, a glittery crown perched atop her teased hair. She was loud, she was flashy, and she was everywhere. Giggling by the pool, tossing her hair, spilling champagne on anyone unlucky enough to stand too close.

Rafe leaned against the wall, nursing a beer, his sharp blue eyes cutting through the crowd to zero in on her. He didn’t even need to try to spot her. She was impossible to miss. That dress clung to her curves like it was painted on, her tits spilling out the top, and every time she moved, the hem rode up dangerously high. She was a walking wet dream, and she knew it. Everyone knew it. Topper wouldn’t shut up about it, either, how she’d been his girl right after Sarah, how she was the easiest lay on the island, how Rafe was a fucking idiot for not hitting that yet.

"Dude, she’s practically begging for it," Topper had slurred earlier, smirking like he was doing Rafe a favor by dangling her in front of him.

Rafe didn’t give a shit about Sarah’s history with her, sure, Sarah hated the girl with a passion, called her a slut every chance she got, but that wasn’t why he was here. No, this was about pride. Topper’s smug little comments had wormed under his skin, and now Rafe had one goal tonight: get her out of that pink dress and into a mess of his making.

She caught his stare from across the pool, her big blue eyes lighting up as she stumbled over in her ridiculous heels, a drink sloshing in her hand.

“Raaafe!” she squealed, voice high and bubbly, dragging out his name like it was her favorite toy. “You came!”

“Wouldn’t miss it, princess,” he drawled, flashing her that lazy, dangerous smile that always worked on girls like her. She melted right into it, giggling and twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

“You’re so sweet,” she cooed, swaying a little closer, the smell of her cotton-candy perfume hitting him like a sugar rush. “Everyone’s here, it’s, like, so crazy!”

“Yeah, crazy,” he echoed, his tone dripping with mockery she didn’t catch. She was too loud, too much, her whole life a gaudy spectacle he usually couldn’t stand. But tonight?

Tonight, that didn’t matter.

He let his eyes drag down her body, those long, tanned legs, the way her dress hugged her hips, the dip of her waist. She was built for this, built for him. Obedient. Submissive. Dumb as a bag of hammers. Perfect.

He stepped closer, brushing a hand against her arm, watching her shiver under the touch.

“You look good in that dress,” he said, voice low and smooth, playing her like a fiddle. “Real good.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, looking up at him with those wide, doe eyes. “You think so? I picked it out special for tonight.”

“Special, huh?” He smirked, leaning in until his breath ghosted over her ear. “Bet you’d look even better out of it.”

She gasped, a little “oh!” slipping out before she dissolved into giggles again, pressing a hand to his chest like she couldn’t handle him. He could already feel her folding, so easy to twist around his finger. Time to up the ante.

“C’mon, birthday girl,” he said, grabbing her wrist and tugging her inside, away from the pool and the prying eyes. She followed without a second thought, stumbling slightly, her crown tilting as she clutched his arm for balance. He led her to the kitchen, where a bag of coke was already waiting on the counter, some asshole’s stash, but Rafe didn’t care. He dipped into it, cutting a sloppy line with his credit card while she watched, mesmerized.

“Rafe, that’s like sooo naughty,” she giggled, but her eyes were glued to him, pupils blown wide with excitement.

“Hold still,” he ordered, grabbing her by the hips and hoisting her onto the counter. She squealed as he yanked her dress down just enough to expose her cleavage, her tits practically spilling out. He tapped the coke onto the curve of her chest, holding her gaze as he leaned down and snorted it right off her skin. The bitter burn hit his nose, and she gasped, clutching his shoulders, her nails digging in.

“Rafe, that tickles!” she whined, but she was grinning, loving every second of it. He wiped his nose, grinning back, high and buzzing as he grabbed her chin and kissed her hard. She tasted like strawberry lip gloss and vodka, her tongue clumsy against his, but she kissed him back like she’d die if she didn’t.

He didn’t waste time.

He dragged her upstairs, her giggling trailing behind him as he shoved open the door to her room. Pink everything, glittery shit everywhere, a fucking princess palace. He slammed her against the door the second it closed, her crown falling to the floor with a clatter as he gripped her throat, squeezing just enough to make her gasp.

“You’re such a fucking slut, you know that?” he growled, his other hand shoving her dress up around her waist. No panties, of course. She was dripping already, thighs slick as he forced her legs apart. “Look at you, soaked just from me talking to you. Pathetic.”

Her lips parted, a whimper spilling out, but her eyes, those big, blue, dumb fucking eyes, stayed locked on his, eating up every word.

“I—I just like you, Rafey,” she stammered, voice small and needy.

“Yeah?” He laughed, harsh and cruel, as he unzipped his shorts, his cock springing free.

She gasped at the size, of course she did, he was huge compared to her, and he smirked, pressing it against her stomach to show her just how deep he’d go.

“Gonna fill you up, princess. You’re gonna feel me right here.” He tapped her belly with his cock, watching her squirm.

He didn’t prep her, didn’t bother. She was wet enough, and he wasn’t here to be gentle. He lined up and thrust in hard, bottoming out in one brutal stroke. She cried out, hands flying to his shoulders, her little body stretching around him. He could see it, the bulge in her stomach where he was buried deep, and fuck, it drove him wild.

“Too big—Rafe, oh my God—” she whined, but she didn’t push him away, just clung to him tighter, legs wrapping around his waist.

“Shut up and take it,” he snapped, choking her harder as he started fucking her against the door, the wood rattling with every thrust. “This is what you’re good for, huh? Just a dumb little hole for me to use.”

“Yes—yes, Rafey,” she moaned, tears welling up in those pretty eyes, mascara streaking down her cheeks. He grabbed a marker off her dresser mid-thrust, uncapping it with his teeth and scrawling “SLUT” across her forehead in messy, jagged letters. She didn’t even flinch, just took it, panting and drooling as he pounded into her.

“Look at you,” he sneered, smearing the ink with his thumb. “Fucking wrecked. Topper was right—you’re the easiest bitch on this island.”

She sobbed, but her hips bucked against him, chasing more, and that was all he needed to know. He pulled out just long enough to flip her around, bending her over the dresser so he could see her face in the mirror, those glazed-over eyes, the word “SLUT” stark against her flushed skin. He slammed back in, deeper this time, and she screamed, nails scrabbling at the wood.

“Gonna breed you,” he grunted, gripping her hips so tight she’d bruise. “Fill you up, make you my girl. My slut. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Carrying my kid, walking around with my cum dripping down your legs?”

“Yes—please, Rafey, please—” she begged, voice breaking, so fucking desperate it made his head spin.

He could feel her tightening around him, her body giving in completely, and he lost it, slamming into her one last time as he came, hot and thick, spilling deep inside her. She clenched around him, milking every drop, and he watched in the mirror as her eyes rolled back, her own orgasm hitting her like a freight train.

He pulled out, cum leaking down her thighs, and smeared it over her skin with his fingers, marking her up. She was trembling, still bent over the dresser, whimpering softly as he stepped back to admire his work, her dress bunched up, her face a mess, his writing branding her like a claim.

And those eyes. Those big, blue, adoring eyes staring up at him in the reflection, like he was her whole fucking world. Something twisted in his chest, sharp and unfamiliar. She was a mess, a slut, a dumb little toy, but she was his now. Obedient. Submissive. Easy to bend, to break, to mold. He could spend his whole life staring into those eyes, fucking her senseless, watching her fall apart for him over and over.

“My good fucking girl,” he muttered, voice rough as he cupped her face with his hand, thumb brushing her glossy trembling lip.

She just smiled, dazed and blissed-out, already reaching for him again.

[clockwayswrites]

Annalise&Tim, Magenta, Solstice, wood fire @roanawayspoons

Annalise is an OC from my fic City Pigeons Bleed Green who showed up briefly. This is an AU where she came to Bruce right away and lived. Uh, sorry that Tim is only dubiously present... but this got in my head.

“Hello, Bruce,” Annalise called from the sitting room that she favored. It was a slightly smaller one than the family room that the would gather in, but she always said that she liked how cozy and warm it was. The Manor, as old as it was, did tend to have a chill to it that would linger in the colder months.

Bruce generally dealt with the permanent cold by wearing warm, turtleneck sweaters and Dick simply never seemed to get cold. Helena liked to steal Bruce’s sweaters, for all that they came pooled around her feet. Annalise, though, seemed to struggle with getting warm with her poor circulation. (Bruce also harbored a fear that the complications around Helena’s birth had caused permanent harm to Annalise, such as the constant fatigue that she seemed to suffer.)

The warm, golden light of the fire spilled out of the half open door to the room and it felt like coming home to step into it. He leaned against the door frame with a smile “Hello, Lise.”

“Alright day at work?” she asked as she stuck her needle in the cross-stitch that she she had been working on.

There was a fifty-fifty chance that it contained a cuss that would make Alfred tsk at her.

“Mm, holiday bonuses went out today, so everyone was in a good mood.”

“Oh, I imagine,” she said with a smile.

The kid—more a pile of blankets and flash of black hair than anything else—who was asleep against her leg shifted. She carded her delicately painted nails through their hair.

“Is one of our sick?”

Annalise hummed in confirmation. “Poor thing was chilled to the bone.”

“That—”

“B! You’re home!” Dick called.

Bruce barely had time to swing around and catch him as he flung himself over the edge of the stare rail and at Bruce’s chest. At sixteen Dick was big enough to make Bruce have to brace himself to catch him. One of these days, Bruce knew he was going to get hurt doing this (but that would hardly stop him, not when his oldest still wanted hugs).

“Hey chum,” Bruce said as he swung Dick around and into the room and set him down. Not Dick who was sick then, which would save the manor a lot of whining. “How was your last day of school?”

“Super boring. We didn’t even do anything! I don’t know why we had to go!” Dick said in a rush.

“He also got, and ate, several candy canes,” Annalise added with a little smile.

“Also that,” Dick agreed.

Bruce tried not to laugh. “Well then it wasn’t all bad, was it. Did you save one for your sister?”

“I did, but she got even more than me! Not that she ate all of them, she’s saving them,” Dick said, like it was the most ridiculous thing that he had ever heard.

“Well, if she’s not feeling we—”

“Daddy!”

Bruce swung just in time to catch his daughter, who of course had also taken to flinging herself at him ever since Dick had started training her in gymnastics this year. The catch was a little fumbled as Bruce spun back to the room and whoever it was that was sleeping on the couch.

“Who—”

“Timothy Drake from next door,” his wife explained softly and with a little smile on her face that Bruce knew spelled trouble for him. Her fingers were still carding through the child’s hair. “Did you know that he’s all alone over in that monstrosity of a house? Poor baby walked over here, in the cold, completely drenched because a pipe had burst in the kitchen. It burst because the heat had gone out and his parents wouldn’t answer his calls about needing their approval for a new furnace. In December. He wanted to know if we had a wrench so that he could shut the water main off.”

Purposefully, Bruce relaxed his hold on Helena so that he didn’t squeeze her too hard at hearing all that. “I see.”

“Yes,” Annalise said. “So I brought him inside, made sure he got warm, and then we had some tea and cookies. I don’t intend to send him back to that house.”

“Of course not, it’s freezing.”

“Ever.”

“…I’ll call our lawyers up then.”

[00valentina-writes00]

ellie coming hands free after getting new nipple piercings?? i creamed

So did I.

♡♥︎ TOO SENSITIVE ♥︎♡

Warnings: nipple play, overstimulation, Ellie being sensitive as hell, a little bit of dumbification, Ellie coming hands-free, and overall Ellie being a desperate mess.

Ellie had severely underestimated how sensitive her nipples would be.

The moment she got them pierced, the realization hit her hard—that first brush of her shirt against them making her whole body shudder, her breath catching in her throat.

And she’d tried, really tried, to pretend like it wasn’t a big deal. She gritted her teeth through the discomfort, through the way-too-intense tingling every time she moved, through the ache that settled deep in her chest whenever something brushed against them just right.

But then you—you, her girlfriend, her problem, her weakness—had gotten a good look at them.

And now?

Now Ellie was fucked.

“Jesus Christ,” she gasped, her head slamming back against the pillow, her hands gripping the sheets so tight her knuckles went white.

You were straddling her, perched comfortably on her waist, your warm hands firm on her chest, gently rolling her new piercings between your fingers—and Ellie felt like she was going to lose her fucking mind.

“M-Mamas,” she choked out, voice high, breathless, wrecked.

You smirked. “What’s wrong, baby? Too much?”

Ellie whimpered, her whole body tensing beneath you.

It was too much. It was way too much.

The sharp sting of the piercings, the electric pull of your fingers tugging just right, the unbearable heat rushing straight between her thighs—she couldn’t take it.

But she didn’t want you to stop.

God, she didn’t want you to stop.

Her green eyes were glassy, half-lidded, her jaw slack, her flushed chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths as you played with her new piercings like they were your favorite toy.

“Y-You’re so mean,” she gasped, her hips jerking up involuntarily, a fresh wave of pleasure-pain rolling through her.

You giggled, leaning down, brushing your lips against her ear.

“You like it,” you whispered, pinching just slightly, making Ellie whine.

She did.

She fucking loved it.

Loved the sharpness, the burn, the warmth of your fingers rolling over her aching nipples, pulling, teasing, sending little sparks of pleasure straight to her clit—

Her whole body shuddered, a wrecked moan spilling from her lips.

“Shit, shit, mamas, I—”

You kissed down her neck, suckling gently, your voice smooth as honey. “Look at you,” you murmured. “You’re shaking, baby.”

Ellie sobbed, her thighs tensing, her hips grinding up into nothing as you toyed with her, tugging at the tiny silver bars, rolling them between your fingers like you owned her.

She felt so full, so hot, so unbelievably sensitive—

She was gonna cum.

Fuck, she was gonna cum, and you weren’t even touching her where she needed it.

Her breath came in short, desperate little gasps, her back arching, her fingers twitching in the sheets, trying so hard not to grab you, not to beg—

“Mamas, I—oh my fucking God, I—”

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body locking up, her jaw dropping as a choked, broken sob tore from her throat—

She came.

Hard.

Hands-free.

Her whole body convulsed, a helpless, desperate cry ripping from her chest as the pleasure slammed through her, raw and electric, rolling in heavy, uncontrollable waves.

Her thighs snapped shut, her stomach tensing, her hips jerking up uncontrollably as the orgasm ripped through her like a fucking shockwave, leaving her trembling, gasping, completely spent.

It was too much.

It was way too much.

She could still feel it, shuddering through her limbs, keeping her so unbearably sensitive that even the softest brush of your fingers on her chest had her whimpering, her head rolling weakly against the pillow.

You grinned, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead, so fucking proud of yourself.

“You good, baby?”

Ellie let out a wrecked, breathless laugh, her chest still rising and falling rapidly, her hands finally moving to rest on your thighs.

“Holy fuck,” she whispered.

You smirked, rubbing gentle circles against her flushed skin, letting her come back down.

“Think you can handle another?”

Ellie whimpered, already twitching beneath you.

“…Yeah.”

[partiallysame]

So sorry (I’m not sorry) for spam liking but OMG poly wife is my new obsession l!???? Like I want to be her so bad????

What do we think the 141 would be like at wifeys job? Like she’s come to base before and got oogled at, what if she’s like a teacher or a nurse or something (a female dominated profession????) and reader gets jealous about her husbands getting oogled??

Again so sorry (babes I’m not sorry who keeps apologizing??) but I love this fic and I’m in love I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it

Ok ok I think the missus would’ve been a school teacher before stay at home wife. Early grades like maybe kindergarten or 1st. (If you can handle 30 five year olds you can handle 4 soldiers. Sometimes). I also think that you would substitute teach when John was gone for long periods of time to help with boredom. But anyways ok back when you were still working I think John was only ever allowed in her classroom during the summer time to help you with prep for the year and setting up your class room. Can’t go during when there are students bc kids hear military and immediately ask about guns and if he’s killed anyone (you made that mistake once and never again). Now I’m thinking this is when you two were dating or engaged. Once there was a ring on your finger Price suggested (borderline demanded) you not work anymore. Pretty lil things shouldn’t have to work. “It’s not work if you love what you do” “if you clock in it’s work” fair enough but who’s complaining. A few weeks before school starts you brought your big handsome man to work to help put stuff up around your classroom while you finished lesson planning. Left the room for what was supposed to be a few moments to grab your packets from the copy machine but the stupid thing was jamming so it took you a while. On your way back you heard giggling from your fellow teachers before finding your classroom empty. Making your way towards the laughter you peek in to see the teacher in the room next to yours with her hand on John’s bicep thanking him for the help. No nope no. You watched sneaky as he told her it was no problem and asked if she needed anything else and ofc she did. Now he’s moving desks and the woman is biting her lip watching him pick them up one handed and put them where she says. Absolutely not. “John” you called out. The request for your fiancée seemed normal enough but he heard the upset undertone in your voice. Uh oh. He turned to look at you and saw you were glaring at your coworker who’s eyes were still on him. Ohhhh. “Yes my love?” He set the desks down and was immediately in front of you. His quick response brought a small smile to your face. Leaning around your large man “I’m taking him back. You can handle the desks.” Ooh sassy he likes it. (John spent a few hours that night in bed making sure you knew he was yours and yours only)

[jjsloverre]

blurb of babydaddy!jj and pouge!reader taking a mental day together

in which… babydaddy!jj takes pouge!reader for a mental walk to talk about the pregnancy

contains… pure fluff, a little cliffhangerrrrrr, foreshadowing (not proofread)

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“cmon mama to be! we don’t got all day!” jj yelled for you.

you were getting ready for something. you didn’t even know since jj wouldn’t spill anything about. “coming!” you screamed back. you walked down the stairs and straight into his arms. “hey pretty mama, ready for this walk?” your eyes shot up at him. “walk? why are we going on a walk?”

“for your mental health and just to talk you know? and then i got some pizza in the lil square ways you like em. now cmon and let’s go, we’re walking for an hour!” he exclaimed. “okay baby.” you smile.

as you and jj are walking, your minds go to the topic of your pregnancy. “what do you want our little baby to be?” jj asked you, thinking hard about the question, you find your answer. “i want a girl, what do you want?”

“i want twins honestly, one boy one girl. can’t i just nut inside you and we have twins?” jj asked while he intertwined your fingers together.

“no smart guy that isn’t how that works.” you smile up at his pretty blue eyes. “well how does it work? how can i get you to have twins?”

“um? genetics?”

“real funny ma.”

“i really hope our baby has your eyes, they’re the prettiest color ever.” he smiles hard, his beautiful smile coming out. “i hope our baby has your beauty and brains. cause i don’t have brains for shit.”

“what else do you wanna talk about baby?” you brought your hands up to your lips and kissed his knuckles, (and also biting him per usual.)

“ready for the ultrasound?” jj asked. “really really ready!” you exclaimed. after just 30 minutes, you begged jj to take you guys back to the house, so you could eat the pizza he talked about.

★

“like the pizza?” jj asked. “course i do! it’s really really good, oh and jayj?” you look up at his pretty blue eyes. “what’s up?”

“do you regret this? like getting me pregnant? what if you have other baby mamas?” jj looked at you pretty confused. he didn’t understand where this concern was coming from. but then again, he realized you were pregnant, and probably had millions of questions about his past hookups. “i don’t fuck girls raw, i use protection. and i only didn’t do it with you cause you were my close friend and i trusted you to… i guess fuck raw? i honestly didn’t mean to get you pregnant, but to answer your question… no i don’t regret it. i’ve always wanted kids! didn’t think it would be this early but if it’s with you? wouldn’t want it with anyone else.”

“really?” you whispered.

“really.”

“can we… go to the mall for some stuff? and then a spa?” you cuddled into his arms while he rubbed your growing belly. “hell yeah we can! we can do whatever you want.”

“yay thank you!”

“no problem baby. hey… why don’t you get some rest? got a big day tomorrow don’t we?”

“yeah we do�� thank you for this mental day and the walk, i didn’t realize how much it would help me, but it helped so much.” you whispered to jj, falling asleep in his arms.

★

as you went to sleep, jj had a plan that would change everything. he got on the phone with kiara.

“look… we don’t talk but i need a favor, don’t flirt with me either. and i mean it, i need to go ring shopping for y/n, i’m asking you for help since you’re her best friend, differences aside, do this for her and leave my drama out of it.”

“fine…” kie whispered back through the phone. “what time asshole.” jj rolled his eyes. “lose the attitude, the fuck you mad for? just because i rejected you to be with the mother of MY child? that doesn’t matter no more, but anyway… friday at noon while she’s at lunch with her parents. thanks kie.”

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

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a/n- a little short but ty for 500 followers! and my bday in 20 days? we bouta t up👅👅 anyway! enjoy this foreshadowing 😉

more babydaddy!jj x pouge!reader here

[writing-for-marvel]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Literally took the words out of my mouth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eeeee they make me giddy 🥰🥰🥰

“Nope. This is my spot, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

Oh she takes his advice 🥺🥺🥺

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Things were finally starting to look up.

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

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

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

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

time after time [2]

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

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 8.2k

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

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

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

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

two: twice upon a time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But where else would you have gone?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Really, you should’ve expected the test.

You closed your eyes and raised your hands.

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

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

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

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

Natasha smirked. “Not bad. First try?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

Your initial reaction is relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life everlasting.

No. Definitely not like this.

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet white teenage angst not your style?”

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

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

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

You raise your hands experimentally.

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

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

You avert your burning eyes from Sam’s gaze.

It’s not like you … talk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is up with you today?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

“You look like shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

You need to be rational about this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not enough to fall asleep, though.

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

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

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

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

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

“She doesn’t like you any better.”

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

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

“You’re in her spot.”

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

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

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

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

“Nope. This is my spot, too.”

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

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

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

“Thirteen twelve hours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes fly open and you gasp for air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not what I expected.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s it to you?” you snap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Third time’s the charm, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shouldn’t he insist on leaving?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only you told him not to throw the shield.

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

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

“Okay, alright, turn it off, FRIDAY!”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m serious.”

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

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

It gives you an idea for the future.

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

“Uhm. What?”

“Do you have like, two minutes?”

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

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

Sam chuckles.

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

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

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

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

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

“You’re in her spot.”

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

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

You blink at him. You did.

You feel his expectant glare on you and sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky doesn’t reply.

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

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

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

“What are you watching?” you ask.

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

You can’t help your reaction.

“Why’d you just do that?” Bucky says.

You stare at the ceiling. “Do what?”

“You flinched.”

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

“Why won’t you look at me?”

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

You drop your gaze and shake your head.

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

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird. And invasive.”

“It’s invasive to look at you?”

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

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

“Tell me.”

“I don’t have anything to tell you!”

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

Your stomach plummets.

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

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

Your book is lying in the wrong place.

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Di’ I faind?”

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

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

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

“Thangs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were safe here.

Things were finally starting to look up.

chapter three

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

[sheepispink]

hi bb, this is incredibly self-indulgent, but I have a very big idea for ur Ghost and his Sergeant. I'm terrified of the ocean so ofc I need her to be nervous over this mission that's by the coast. she's never said anything bc it's never been necessary, but she can't hide her nervousness from Ghost tho he doesn't pressure her to say anything for now. so when they're done w the mission, they all decide they'll take the next day off, and it's a given they'll go to the beach, right. I need her to be nervous but she's like, chill, staying away from the ocean, until the guys lift her up and she's like rolling her eyes until she realizes they're taking her to the ocean w quick steps, and suddenly she's SCREAMING bloody murder, and Ghost gets his head out of his ass (bc he was buying idk ice cream or a drink idk), and runs over when the guys set her down on the sand, trembling and tearing up, unable to stop herself from being weak and AHHHHHH ur writing would make this cuddle session so fucking GOOD

UR MIND IS LITERALLY AMAZING BECAUSE THIS?? THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA

anyway, as promised, plenty of fluff, plenty of comfort, very yummy story (i hope)

enjoy!!!!!

WC: 4.1k… (😧)

————-

Missions tended to blend into each other when a soldier got too comfortable—an autopilot you were happy to live with for a long time. Though, that was before you were promoted to a Sergeant which still felt like yesterday no matter how long ago it had been. You had soon learned that no day would ever be the same, especially after you were properly taken into Lieutenant Ghost’s unit, rather than the occasional team-ups. It was a big change that’s for sure; it’s not the difficulty, but rather having to prove your worth to a whole new unit. At least your old unit you were pretty much leading; this was like starting from the bottom again, in a way. It shouldn’t prove to be too hard, considering your reputation was holding up nicely.

However, you did have a small weakness; everyone did though this was one that you definitely didn’t want anyone else to be aware of any time soon. So, when the news of another mission came around, you were positive it was something you could handle. Until the news came that you’d travel by ship, having to stay on it for at least two weeks. It’s not even like you had time to process the news, bundled into a truck as you travelled down to the coast. You’d be travelling far, tracking down some bombs that are being transported on a number of different cargo ships travelling across the Atlantic ocean. More importantly was figuring out if they were actually active bombs or rather just sitting ducks–either way, it was something that needed to be dealt with immediately. Considering you had completed a course in demolitions, of course you were immediately necessary for this, so there wasnt even any backing out now. Thankfully, there was a chance you wouldn’t even have to cross over the murky waters, safe on the ship instead. Still, there was no guarantee that nothing couldn’t go wrong.

Ghost wasn’t stupid, he could clearly see just how hunched your shoulders were in every conversation, no matter where you were around the ship. He sees your small flinches everytime a small wave slightly shifts the floor beneath your feet, or the larger ones that spray onto the deck whilst you’re surveying the surroundings. Not even you can hide the quick darts of your eyes each time a small rumble of thunder sounds out overhead nor the teeth marks in your lips when you look out the window for a little too long. One thing that he couldn't possibly ignore, was the widening of your eyes and the anxious tap of your foot as you slowly filed out of the briefing the day before you departed. The only question was to confront you or not. After all, everyone has a weakness and yours may not even be that serious to compromise the mission. It seemed on the same level as getting mad at someone for being woken from a bad dream, or at least he didn't want to embarrass you by possibly blowing it out of proportion.

He was right for the most part, and you had completed the mission as expected– even if your heart was practically pumping out of your chest when you had to cross to the cargo ship and assess the crates for any trace of explosives. Since it was growing closer to summer, he figures the unit may as well stop over by the beach that’s only a one hour drive from the port. Your fellow teammates are excited of course, and so are you, happy to be on ground again even if the ocean will be metres away; anything was better than hovering above it though. As soon as you arrive, a few of the guys drag you along to a local shop, all of you filtering through the aisles to find the best floaties and water guns available.

Ghost leans against the car with his arms crossed over his chest, tapping his foot like a father with his rowdy kids. So since you all act like children, he counts down from ten, watching you and the others scurry and scramble into the seats of the cars. It’s almost laughable at how you all look, pool noodles around two soldier’s waists, water guns gripped in one of the other’s hands and wait– who put a bucket and spade in the boot?

Free for all, except this isn’t the battlefield, no it’s a damn beach and once your feet touch the warm sand, all of you are dispersing into different directions. Ghost looks around, trying to figure out where everyone went in the five seconds he turned to grab the cooler bag, only to see you lounging on a sunbed. He has to admit, he was curious as to how you’d navigate a situation like this with your clear fear. But now he can only scold himself as he slowly approaches you, your head turning before you beckon him over with a wide grin. You’re a trained soldier, you’ll be perfectly fine.. right?

He drops his duffel bag down beside you, getting comfortable on the sunbed as the others run along the beach like bumbling fools. Accidentally he must’ve let out a scoff because you laugh, turning to look at him as his brows unintentionally furrow. “What? They’re runnin’ around like they’re six.” He says gruffly, trying to get comfortable on the small and flimsy sunbed but failing when he realises both his legs barely fit.

“You’re just boring, skullface.” You know he hates that stupid nickname, but it just motivates to use it all the more. Still, his eyes are more focused on the nervous tap of your fingers against your leg, your jaw slightly clenched as you look out at the soldiers running around near the water.

“Oh? I don't see you making sandcastles.. or splashin’ around either.” He watches you freeze at his last words, his eyebrows slighlty beginning to furrow in deep concern. You were so far from the water, practically at the top of the beach but you still looked agitated, like you were just managing to glue it all together.

”Hmph, I'm relaxing before I beat all of you in snooker tonight.” He highly doubts that’s even slightly possible, but you’re quite adamant on the former as you stretch out and get ready fro your midday nap. Of course, how could he forget your daily necessity? Regardless of that, he sticks firmly by your side, satisfied that you werent so nervous that you wouldn't be able to nap peacefully— or maybe that was because he’d scare off anyone in a 5 mile radius just with that mask alone. He settles on watching the waves lap until he gets bored enough to aimlessly scroll on his phone, unable to find anything to captivate his attention long enough. Damnit, you were rubbing off on him. After stealing your book for a bit, the heat of the sun finally sets on his nerves and he heads towards the small bar, looking for a cool drink. Just before he leaves though, he adjusts the umbrella above where you lay, a little worried that you’d overheat in your sleep but your head feels fairly cool against his hands, for now at least.

Footsteps, they’re soft in your ears muffled by rocks that are kicked. There’s small snickers too, coming from different directions and no matter where you try and run to chase one, they always appear right behind you again.

Splashing, it’s colder now, a breeze washing over your body and making you shiver.

Strain, your arms feel tight, as do your legs, like you’re being stretched like those stupid toys that were always advertised but you never actually got.

“Is she up yet?” A voice says, so close yet so far.

“Nah, still out.” Accompanied by laughter.

A splash of water on your face has you attempting to sit up only to fail immediately, your wrists locked in a tight hold, ankles kicking restlessly. “What? Who—?” Your head turns frantically, confused and instinctively wanting nothing more but to be free.

“Chill out, we’re just giving you a little diving lesson.” The soldier who you’d giggle with on patrol holds your legs, laughing at your shocked face. As you look around, you realise the fellow soldiers you’ve shared meals with for two weeks have kidnapped you from your napping spot, carrying you somewhere.

It’s fine, they’re your friends, they wont hurt you.

“Hey! I was sleeping very peacefully y’know.” You huff, playfully though still half awake, rolling your eyes as you slacken your protests.

”Yeah, drooling too.” The one holding your wrists laughs as the one walking alongside them pinches your cheeks. Damnit, they’re so damn annoying all the time arent they? Ghost’s right, they’re like little kids with the way they ran straight into the ocean—

Ocean?

Your head snaps to the side, managing to strain your neck only to see that the one holding your legs has already stepped towards the shore, water now splashing gently onto the sand beneath you. “Hey— wait, where are you taking me?” You’re thrashing around now, panic bubbling in your throat as your nails press into the soldier’s hand, scrambling for them to let go. “Oh come on, just a small splash.”

You hate their laughter, you hate this, you hate having to watch the waves rise over his foot as they carry you in, your heart thumping louder with each second. “Let me go!”

They don't listen— why wont they listen?

The water is up to his ankles, too high for your liking and you’re not scared anymore— you’re fearing the worst. Images flash through your mind, the horrible splashing of their steps louder than the pounding in your head.

You kick, wriggle, squirm, anything and it’s useless— why is it so useless?

Their steps are making droplets splash on you, the water is growing higher, ready to consume and you’re cold, too cold even with the sun burning through you. Cold with soaked cheeks.

Ghost hears the screams first, so high it almost sends him into a frenzy only nightmares have brought him crumbling to. He doesn't think, spilling the can of coke without a second thought as he runs over, sand kicking up with each heavy step of his stupid army boots he wears all the time. The crowd of soldiers are shoved to the side by his hands, carving a path directly to you who now sits in the sand right by the shore, trembling so harshly as you pull your knees to your chest, albeit with great struggle. “Woah, woah, you’re okay— you’re not wet. See? Sand, look you’re on the sand.” But you’re too far gone, your hair falling over your face as you hunch over, hands grasping at nothing but the air. Your face is starting to grow wet from the silent tears,trickling down your cheeks and kissing your legs, the wet feeling making you fear the worst has happened.

“What the hell are you all staring at?” His Lieutenant's voice comes back like it never left, the soldiers standing to attention just as fast and scrambling away before they feel the wrath of the man before them.

You’re trying your best to shovel it all in, all the fears but it’s near impossible, not when you can still hear the splashing, not when you can hear the laughter of the kids down the beach. Not here.

“Up we get, come on.” He places his hand beneath your arms and hoists you up to stand, one hand slipping behind your back to rub up and down, trying to get you to your senses. “You’re all dry, okay? Nothing happened, you’re alright.” He’s trying to keep his voice as calm as he can for you but it’s near impossible when you’re looking like that before him, like a person whose nearly missed death. Dammit, you didnt even look this bad when you were shot in the leg, and that was a pool of blood to say the least.

He leads you away from the shore, bringing you to a small cobbled footpath away from all the cafe’s, loud icecream vans and children screaming about needing to pee. His hand continues to rub slow circles, continuously soothing your trembles as he reminds you to breathe in and out. Only when everyone was out of sight did he pick you up properly, hoisting your legs to wrap around his middle as one hand pushed your face into his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you into the car, okay?” Sure he should’ve done that way earlier, clearly by the way your hands were shaking like crazy. But if he knows anything about you, he definitely knows you don't want to make a scene. Being seen as weak is practically the worst thing for you, not that he thought what happened made you weak, but he already knew what you’d be saying if he had swooped you up right then and there in front of everyone.

“Ghost— i..” You begin to sniffle out but he shakes his head, firmly patting your back in confirmation. “Nope. Quiet— don't wanna hear it.” He carries you further down the road, turning into the empty parking lot near a small block of houses. Finally he reaches the car, windows tinted to hide you as he opens the door with one hand, a low groan escaping him before he finally settles you in the backseat. Going around to the boot, he opens it quickly, grabbing a spare towel he brought and rummaging through a bag that was supposed to be for the team’s silly movie night later. Not that he’d participate, but he felt giving them some snacks would be a good mission well done.

Your eyes are locked onto your knees, refusing to look anywhere and your face has dried up, slightly red from how harshly you had rubbed at your eyes. He settles in beside you, about to offer you a drink when you’re clenching the seats, eyes already tearing up once more.

“It’s fine— really, i just- I was just a little shaken, they didn't mean it, I wasn’t properly awake yet and it startled me. ” You ramble between breaths, unable to find an excuse to rebuild your dignity in time but he just lets out a long breath, anger clearly holding back. A soft towel is draped around you, covering your upper half entirely as he folds it over your front.

“You dont need to explain. It’s fine— i dont like the damn beach either.” He mumbles out, not sure how else to express the fury he feels that you had to feel that terrified, more towards himself for leaving you alone when he knew you were uneasy. All he can do for now is place an arm around your shoulders as you continue to quietly sniffle and tremble at the shock and horror you felt in the past ten minutes. You were clearly uncomfortable too, and how badly he wanted to tell you that he didn't care if a colour terrified you, nor a tiny butterfly; he just wanted you, as with the few he really cares about, to be comfortable and happy. Never should someone have to face their fears like that, he knows what that can do to a person. But he can't word it properly, can't express how you’re the strongest he knows and the smartest and every other good adjective in the damn dictionary because you are that. And he refuses for you to believe otherwise just because the majority aren't scared of the same things you are.

Your nose presses into the sleeves of your shirt, eyes scrunched tight as you try to will the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” It’s stern, too harsh, but he doesn't know what else to do, just wanting to wipe that miserable look on your face. “There’s nothing to apologise for.. Do you need me to leave?” He asks, suddenly wondering if you’d calm down quicker if he just left you alone. Of course you would, who would want this stiff man rubbing their back while crappily convincing them that they’re not drowning and just got a scare from a stupid idiotic prank? He could at least speak a bit more, reassure you that whatever you choose is fine but nothing comes to his mouth. You shake your head thankfully, refusing to let him leave you alone.

“Are you annoyed with me?” Your voice is quiet, so quiet, and he hates that you feel this small. You should be smiling and having fun like everyone else, not tearing up infront of your lieutenant who you just barely felt comfortable around— or well, he thought that was the case.

“Never.” He says gruffly and he’s caught off guard when you hug him tightly, one that has him stuttering to breathe for a moment. Though his shock is quickly broken when your sniffles pick up, quiet sobs hitting his chest head on. He wants to complain, beg you to stop crying because not even he can bear to see you like this. But he knows whilst it pains him, you need to let it out for all the weeks you’ve been terrified for and stayed strong. His arms wrap around you just as tight, his chin resting above your head as he feels his shirt wetten by the second.

“You’re stronger than me.” He murmurs quietly, one hand gently rubbing your shoulder as he just sits there, letting you take whatever ounce of comfort you somehow receive from him. “You could’ve given up long ago but you didn't. How could I be mad at someone who's worked so hard to keep the rest of us safe even when they didnt feel safe themself?”

Oops. He might’ve made you cry a lot harder with that one, and his eyes widening show his momentary panic as he tries to soothe you again, tucking you as close as possible.

You settle a while later, pulling away just enough to wipe your reddened eyes. His eyes are softened as he looks down at you, partially glad he doesn't have to burn alive in the sun anymore and can just spend time with you in this car.. though it’s warming up pretty quickly. You seem to have the same thoughts as him because you look up, unable to stop a little smile crawling onto your lips. The sight is bright, even the tears in your eyes making them sparkle more than usual. “Why’re you looking at me like that?” He asks, hoping you’d keep doing that a little longer.

“You’re sweating like crazy..” You’re half tempted to snicker, but it comes out more like a sniffle and he just lets out a breathless sigh, rolling his eyes as he squashes your cheeks. “I do all this and that’s what you say? You’re a minx, yknow that?”

Well, he supposes it is your day off, and he’s restless as it is anyway. So, he pretends to huff at you, even if you see past him instantly, and slides out the seat beside you to get into the driver's seat. You follow, climbing into the passenger seat and he straps you in before you can even try. He rolls down the windows after he starts driving through the town, letting the summer air refresh you all while he’d occasionally look over every time he got caught in a little traffic. . But you looked like you needed a moment to gather your thoughts and yourself, so he’d give you that, for now at least.

He takes you to the nearest mall, hunting down one of those ice cream shops, but not something basic, no, that’s just boring. “Amorino?” Your voice is muffled by the skull mask he reluctantly let you borrow— but you looked uncomfortable walking around with the tear stains still on your cheeks, so he relented quickly.

“Pick your flavours.” You get your two favourites, picking them both until he urges you to pick another, not that you can decide. “Can't you just pick your favourite for me?” That’s how you end up with a cone in your hand, a pretty flower shaped ice cream right on top with each of your flavours curved into petals. He sips his milkshake, watching as you stare in complete awe as you both walk through the mall. “How— what? This is sick, Ghost!”

“If you keep staring at it, it’ll melt before you even try it.” He watches your eyes go wide, quickly licking up the sides to catch any melting parts before instantly grinning at the overwhelming sweetness. “This is like— top tier!” Though he does end up facepalming when you grip his sleeve tightly, groaning about a brain freeze.

He lets you try out the crappy claw machine games, and then even tries on one Hawaiian shirt all while you’re giggling so hard you almost trip over. He has to hold your wrist after that, but you don't complain, using it as an opportunity to drag him wherever you want, and he follows.

It’s almost seven pm, and he takes you back to the hotel since you and the team planned to get dinner. He still had to have a virtual briefing with Price, so you would be on your own for this one. They’re waiting for you in the lobby, the three culprits from before standing anxiously. “I’ll be in the car, on the phone to Price and the others.” It’s a silent offer, giving you a chance at any time to return to where he is and sit in the back if you need to get away for whatever reason. He’d prefer to be beside you, but at least this gives you a safe way out. “Alright, thanks. I’ll head in now— just make sure you grab something to eat too? Okay?” You give him a smile, before you awkwardly step inside the hotel, approaching the others. Ghost’s hands tense, fists clenching as he watches for any sign of the idiots acting up again. Thankfully, they learnt their lesson and they immediately apologise to you, frowns on all their faces before lighting up when you extend your forgiveness to them. You were scared they’d laugh at you, but Ghost knew that they saw you like a little sister— even if they were absolute idiots sometimes. He decides to leave you after watching you leave the hotel with them, heading for a restaurant down the street as you link arms with a female soldier you know, grinning.

It’s late when he hears a soft rap at the hotel room door, confused at who could possibly knock at this hour. “It’s me, Lt.” Werent you supposed to be watching movies with the others?

“Come in.”

You open the door with the keycard he gave you earlier, dressed in your pajamas and with a bowl of popcorn in your hand. Quietly you walk over to where he lays on the bed, settling on the other side as you place the bowl between the two of you. This is how it goes for the next twenty minutes or so, you scrolling through your phone and watching stupid videos as you nibble on the popcorn all while he continues to read his book, occasionally grabbing a piece of popcorn just to keep you happy. It only ends when he catches you yawning from the corner of his eye, one, twice and thrice. “You should get some rest. You’ve had a long day.” He hums, flicking to the next page as he continues to read but the words aren't really going to his head in the slightest, his mind fixated on you.

“Hm.. okay.” You sigh, before placing your phone onto the bedside table and tucking yourself beneath his blankets, now watching him from your

position smushed against his pillow.

“You have your own bed, Sergeant.” He states, raising a brow but he’s particularly careful not to lower nor raise his voice, keeping it central as he looks at you and closes his book.

“Hey, you said I was welcome if it was an emergency.”

He did say that, perhaps a long, long time ago when you first came bundling into his life before he even knew you that well. Besides, it’s not like he planned to actually kick you out. So for now he just lets out an empty scoff, goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth before turning the lights off by the switch. The room is shrouded by darkness and you look around, wondering where he went, when two arms wrap around your front, bringing you forward against his chest. “Don’t make me regret this.” He says gruffly, but you know he doesn't care all that much, and he knows that your playful facade is trying to hide the trembles that still linger in your hands when you hear the ocean lap outside your room’s window. Tonight, he’s holding you tight and never letting you go; he’d be found dead before he ever lets anything snatch you, whether that be the ocean, someone, or even fear itself.

———

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