#so it's good to see the tables turn and have the others try to be there for him instead. and give him the space he needs to process.

[pixieperson19]

well now I feel obligated to ramble.

.

.

.

HERE WE GO

okay so over the summer I had gone to New York City with some kids from my school, and some kids from another school, who joined us.

We were having dinner in this cafe, called like something ‘starburst diner’ methinks, but anyway that’s important because at this said diner; all the waitstaff sang.

So we walk in and I immediately register that it is loud

Someone’s doing Disney karaoke, and the mic is turned all the way up.

The diner is super busy, and we’re all trying to find tables. Of course, I’ve lost track of the one or two ‘friends’ I’ve made on this trip, but I notice one of my good classmates at a table. Knowing her, I ask to sit at her table, she says yes, and I scoot into the booth across from a person who I’ve literally never seen before in my life (they’re from the other school)

So we’re all sitting at the diner, and I’m fighting off the urge to cover my ears while also focusing on the bathroom line, because all of us need to get changed for the Broadway Hamilton show we’re seeing after (it was so amazing btw)

I eventually give up and cover my ears, muffling the loud singing and music because it’s been a long day and I’ve been on this physically exhausting trip for like four days already.

I order, I get changed, and when I come back, the food isn’t there. So I sit, and press the little hard cartilage part (the part you get a tragus piercing in) into my ear canal so things are muffled with little effort of my hands. I then procede to kind of zone out, take everything in, and think of rottmnt ofc.

After a couple of minutes, something slides into my view across the table.

I look down, and the girl from the other school (we’ve never seen each other before) is offering her headphones toward me.

I look at the headphones, then make questioning eye contact, and she nudges them toward me, and smiles.

I grab the headphones, and put them on. Everything around me is muffled, but I can still hear the music well, and my hands finally get a break.

A few minutes later, the food comes, and I’m able to easily eat with the headphones on, and the cord tucked aside, and things are nicely muffled and don’t make me want to cry because I couldn’t go up to anyone and ask them to turn it town.

🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

me when people do nice things randomly

if you see this post you are obligated to reblog and tell me something good that happened to you this year

[rafesbangs]

hi sweetheart ♡ could you write something with like mean-stepsis!reader & sub-stepbro!rafe? maybe they could be at a family dinner, she’s palming (or jerking) him off underneath the table and edging him while acting all casual, pretending absolutely nothing is going on. i love your work!!

oh i loooove this & uuuu. tysm ml !! <3

req! 𝜗𝜚 mean-stepsis!reader loves teasing sub-stepbro!rafe, but especially publicly

c!w; mdni !! step-cest, desperate sub!rafe, mean/dom!reader, teasing, edging, public masturbation sorta, handjob, rafe cums in his pants tehe. notes; first ever ask !! yaayy, i had sm fun writing this actually who knew i liked sub!rafe sm <333

to celebrate the family's recent unity, ward wanted to have a huge family dinner. no one was really thrilled but ward and your mom, his new wife. it had been a while since the wedding and you and rafe had found yourselves... getting to know each other, often.

actually right before the dinner had begun, you and rafe had been in his room, his hips snapping against you as he drove his cock deep into your weeping hole, kissing your cervix. you'd already came a few times but rafe was just about to spill into you when ward called from downstairs. the two of you hurriedly gotten re-dressed for dinner and come down as if you hadn't even seen each other all day.

now the whole family was sat around this huge expensive dining room table your mother had gotten as a wedding gift, it was ugly. extravagantly so. you and rafe were seated next to each other and after a while you could tell his cock was still aching in his pants. the way your incredibly short white dress would ride up drove him insane, and he had been peaking at your thighs hoping for a glance of your sweet pussy, he knew you hadn't bothered to put your panties back on earlier.

you grinned when he caught you looking at his bulge, it was huge and unforgiving the way it so obviously rose out of his pants. his cheeks went flush, and he kept trying to re-adjust his cock but all he was doing was creating more and more friction that kept the boner up.

everyone was immersed in conversation, too busy to notice you sneaking your hand over to your step brother's lap. his eyes went wide when you started stroking the bulge through his pants. he had to stop himself from groaning at how good the feeling of your dainty hand felt on his throbbing cock.

after a few painful minutes, reality hit him like a truck, you were sitting eating dinner together. family dinner. your hand was on his cock at family dinner. he gently put one hand over yours, looking at you with nervous eyes, you could see him begging for a release but also knew he was scared of coming undone at the dining room table.

a wicked smile spread across your lips and you just swatted his hand away, he let you, swallowing hard. your hand now slid over his cock again, rough, and you found the button and zipper of his khakis.

he clenched his jaw, feeling exactly what you were doing and had to grip the table without anyone noticing to compose himself when you slowly dragged the zipper down. you knew it would be painful now, having a boner this hard for this long, but you didn't care. you loved to watch him writhe beneath your touch.

you rolled his cock under your palm again, slowly but making sure to give extra attention to his red tip, pre-cum had already seeped through his boxers. he grabbed at your wrist and let out a little whimper, turning his head away from the table and towards you, hoping no one would notice. heat pooling in your lower stomach at the sound.

you started testing how close he was, tapping at his tip, he twitched with every tiny touch, giving you a desperate look with his eyebrows permanently cinched together. you couldn't tell if he was begging you to stop or begging you to let him cum, he couldn't either.

after toying with his clothed cock for a while, you drew your hand back with a grin, getting into a conversation with ward about wanting to learn how to handle the druthers. rafe couldn't believe you'd leave him like that, he started trying to adjust himself again, but to no avail. only after the slightly long conversation had ended and ward wasn't paying attention to you did you look at rafe again. he was in agony.

his hips were ever so slightly bucking every few breaths, a stressed hand ran through his hair, slightly greasy from sweat. your hand snaked into his lap again and his eyes lit up, but you didnt do anything. just sat your hand on top of his swollen cock, grinning.

he just stared at you as you looked forward, eating politely. when you finally met his eyes again he mouthed a little 'please', the word coming out in a very soft whisper. your tongue darted out at your lips, he was begging now.

in a swift movement your once resting hand pulled his aching dick from his boxers, and you were now slowly jerking him off. his hips were instinctively bucking at every movement, a small giggle left your lips and you could hear him heavily breathe out in exasperation.

finally you thought you might as well give him the satisfaction after so long, the way one of his hands was desperately holding your wrist as you played with his cock was too convincing. knowing what would happen, you pull his boxers back over his cock but start jerking him off vigorously. he moaned into his hand, eventually biting down on his wrist to suppress his pleasure when he finally came. thick white cum coating his lap, even going through his boxers and onto your hand a little.

you smirk at him as his eyes go wide, alarm bells ringing in his head. with all the cum on your hand everywhere you pretended to drop a napkin, leaning down to pick it up. you made sure rafe was watching when you licked your hand clean, even dragging your fingers over his lap to lick up whatever else you could.

"good boy" you cooed, he got impossibly hard all over again.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Tipping Point

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: sexual tension, implied smut

Summary: Your aunt signs you up for shooting lessons with Spencer Reid. You get more than you bargained for when you go.

Square Filled: alex blake (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Not having a job is really kicking your ass. All you do is stay at home and flip through magazines and shows you’ve already watched. Since your parents died, your aunt has taken you under her wing. The housing and renting market is a joke right now, so you’re living with her until you can go to school. You want to go into her field since you look up to her so much, but the school year doesn’t start for another three months.

So, you’re just trying to pass the time by reading magazines and watching shit reality shows.

Aunt Alex walks downstairs after getting ready for work, and she goes to the kitchen where the full pot of coffee you brewed is waiting for her.

“So, what do you have planned for today?” she asks.

“Well, at ten, I want to cure diseases, and at two, I plan on writing a thesis on String Theory. Why? Do you have something planned? I can see if I can fit you in,” you say sarcastically.

“You’re so funny,” she rolls her eyes playfully. “There’s actually something I want you to do for me.”

“What’s up?”

“I signed you up for shooting lessons. One of my coworkers is teaching the class, and he knows you’re coming. Your appointment is at two.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. She’s been nagging you to take shooting lessons ever since you moved in with her.

“Aunt Alex…”

“Y/N, listen, your mother wasn’t prepared and look where it got her. I’m not letting the same thing happen to you.”

She’s right. Your father died shortly after you were born so your mom was the protector. There was an invasion one night and she wasn’t able to protect herself against the intruder. She died fighting to save you. Alex sees evil every single day, and it would break her heart if you weren't prepared for the worst.

“Fine, I’ll go,” you sigh.

“Good. It’s at two. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

The morning is filled with reality TV, and the early afternoon is when you prepare to go to this lesson. What should you wear? A dress might be too much so you pick out a nice pair of jeans and a loose shirt. Once ready, you leave the house and head over to the shooting range. You’re not sure who from her team is going to be teaching you. You’ve never met them but you do know them by name. David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, and Spencer Reid. You don’t think Rossi or Hotch will teach you so it has to be either Derek or Spencer.

The shooting range is empty, probably due to Alex’s influence. She wanted whoever is teaching it to focus on you the whole time.

“Hello? Anyone here?”

“In the back!”

You walk to the back and see a tall and slender man putting away supplies. From Penelope’s use of the phrase “Chocolate Thunder” (thanks to Aunt Alex repeating it several times), you know this is Spencer Reid. Spencer turns and you’re immediately floored by how attractive he is. You’ve met your fair share of men and have hooked up with more than one of them, but Spencer is on a whole other level.

This is a man right here. You’re into older men, too. You’re not sure how old he is but he can’t be more than thirty-five.

He walks over to you with a smile. “Hi, I’m Spencer Reid. Alex said you were coming over.” No words are coming out so you just nod instead. “Have you ever shot a gun before?” Again, you can only shake your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

He takes you over to the area where you shoot and shows an array of guns on the table next to it. He picks up the smaller one and hands it over to you.

“Wow, this is heavier than I thought it was going to be,” you chuckle when you grab it.

“Yeah, don’t let that scare you. This is a very easy gun to use. First, safety.”

Spencer takes the gun from you and puts it on the table before grabbing a pair of earmuffs and safety glasses. You look up at him as he slides the earmuffs over your ears, and he looks into your eyes. He briefly looks down at your lips but it was so quick that you could have been imagining it.

“Does that fit well?”

Even through the earmuffs, his voice is like honey. You nod and he moves onto the glasses. He slides them on despite you having full capabilities of doing this yourself. You look down and the glasses slide off your face entirely, and you chuckle shyly. Both you and Spencer lean down to pick it up, and your hand bumps against his.

It was just a bump but that sends shockwaves through your body. Based on how Spencer is looking at you, you know he felt the same. This is different than any fling you had. You’ve never felt this type of attraction toward another man.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay.” He grabs the glasses. “Let me get another pair.” Spencer leaves and returns with a smaller pair. “Are those okay?”

“Better,” you smile.

“Okay, take the gun and turn the safety off.” You pick up the gun and flip the little switch. Spencer steps closer to you, so close that you can feel his body heat behind you. Butterflies flutter in your stomach but you try to ignore them. “Here, hold it like this.”

He reaches around you and fixes the way you hold the gun. He has to press himself closer to your back, and you silently thank Aunt Alex for setting this up for you.

“Am I holding it right?” you ask.

“Yes.”

His breath is hot against your neck, and you swear you can feel your panties dampening a little bit.

“Now what?”

“Shoot.” You aim at the target in front of you and shoot three times, all of the bullets not hitting the target but on the paper outside of it. “Okay, next time, don’t close one eye. That actually doesn’t help.”

“Okay,” you chuckle. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Try again. This time, try to aim for the heart.”

You aim at the target but freeze when you feel Spencer’s hand sliding up your arms and down to your waist. How can you think about this when all you can think about is his hands on your body? You shoot the target twice, both of the bullets hitting the target. However, one hit his leg and the other hit his hand.

“Better?”

“Yeah, a bit. Are you sure you’ve never shot a gun before?”

“Never.”

“For a first-timer, you’re doing a lot better than other newbies.”

“Thanks,” you smile. “I just have a really great teacher.”

Spencer spends the next thirty minutes teaching you how to shoot multiple different guns. By the time you’re done, the sexual tension is high. Spencer steps back from you and you regret not failing more just so you can feel his body against yours.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today. I do think you might benefit from one more lesson. Are you free next week?”

“Yes,” you say too quickly. “I mean, I can make that work. Just let me know.”

“Great.”

Spencer removes your glasses and then your earmuffs while staring into your eyes the whole time. The tension between you two is like a boiling pot of water. It’s going to overflow any second now, and you can’t wait to see what will happen when he snaps. He looks down at your lips and you lick them slowly, and that seems to be the tipping point.

He grabs your waist and pulls you into him before slamming his lips on yours. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He hooks his hands under your thighs and lifts you up with ease, setting you on the small table so you’re up to his height. Spencer slides his tongue along your bottom lip, but he kisses his way down your jaw to your neck instead of licking inside your mouth.

“Alex is going to kill me,” he mutters between kisses.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” you moan.

Spencer pulls back and kisses you once again. If you knew this was waiting for you, you would have taken lessons a lot sooner.

x

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[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕰XES & Os

Lara Raj x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been seeing lara for a while and she’s finally invited you to see them perform at an award show from the vip lounge, but you didn’t expect to see the last person you’d want to run into on the way to the bathroom, and lara isn’t too happy when she spots the both of you from onstage

warnings: nsfw, suggestive/sexual themes, hickeys, biting, rough!lara, dom!lara, jealousy, possessive!lara, semi-public!sex, car!sex, teasing, dirty talk

Y/N adjusted her dress—red, lara insisted she sported her favourite colour for good luck—smoothing the fabric over her hips as the bass from the concert hall vibrated through the walls of the VIP lounge. Tonight was a special night. Lara had personally invited her as her plus one to this show—a full house for some award show.

She had the perfect view of the stage—of Katseye.

Y/N had heard Lara sing before at Katseye concerts, but seeing her command an entire stage with her group was going to be such a new experience. The anticipation of watching her girlfriend in her element sent a thrill through Y/N’s body.

The woman decided to step out for a moment before the show began. The hallways were bustling with staff and a few other VIP guests milling about. There were tables on tables of food and drinks ordered perfectly, before a fancy bar offering many tapped kinds of beer. Y/N barely had a chance to orient herself and take in the room when she collided with someone.

“Oh, sorry!” Y/N started, but her voice faltered as she looked up and locked eyes with a familiar face.

Billie Eilish O’Connell.

“Y/N?” Billie’s scoffed, her voice like a melody she hadn’t heard in years but still recognized instantly. Her ex’s trademark smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “Wow, it’s been a while.” Her eyes raked over the red, silky dress hugging Y/N in all the right spots. “You look… good.”

Y/N’s heart sunk. Of all places, why here? Why tonight? She cleared her throat, trying to maintain composure. “Yeah, it has. What’re you doing here?”

“I’m performing tonight,” Billie said casually, brushing her red rooted hair back. “And you? Who’re you here for?”

Y/N hesitated, debating how much to share. “My girlfriend, Lara invited me.”

“Lara?” Billie’s smirk widened knowingly. “As in Lara Raj from Katseye? I always knew you liked a woman with a bold hair colour,” she joked, “Small world, hm?”

Y/N nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Billie’s piercing gaze always had a way of making her feel exposed, even when there was nothing to hide. Before she could figure out how to end the conversation gracefully, a deep voice called out. It could only be whom used to be one of Y/N’s more familiar friends, Finneas. “Hey, Billie! We’re needed backstage!”

“Coming!” Billie called back before turning to Y/N. “Well, it was nice seeing you again. Maybe we’ll catch up later?”

“Sure,” Y/N lied, already dreading another conversation.

Billie leant forward for a quick hug, her hand placed securely on Y/N’s waist before pulling away with a grin.

As Billie disappeared down the hallway, Y/N exhaled shakily. The timing couldn’t have been worse. She knew Lara wouldn’t be thrilled about her talking to her ex, especially not tonight of all nights. Y/N made her way back to the VIP lounge, hoping to put the encounter out of her mind.

The concert was electric. Katseye’s energy was infectious, and Lara shone brighter than the stage lights. Her voice soared, her movements captivated, and Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off her. Every so often, Lara’s gaze seemed to flick toward the VIP lounge, and Y/N felt her cheeks flush under the weight of her attention. It was impossible for Y/N’s voice to go any louder, she practically lost her voice shrieking her girlfriend’s name as they moved around the stage for “Touch”.

Lara made sure to blow a kiss her way before they ended.

A couple more acts came on after Katseye, all delivering unique performances. When Billie sauntered onstage, the audience erupted. Y/N froze in her seat as the spotlight illuminated her ex. She watched Billie and Finneas exchange a quick nod before the music started. Their voices blended beautifully, creating a hauntingly powerful harmony. But as Y/N’s eyes darted between them, she couldn’t shake the tension knotting in her stomach.

Toward the end of the song, something caught her off guard. Billie’s eyes flicked toward the VIP lounge—toward her. It was brief, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

And backstage, watching the dozens of screens streaming different angles of the show, it was nearly impossible for Lara to miss the deliberate motions Billie seemed to throw her the VIP lounge. Initially, she thought she was crazy, there were a couple other people standing behind the glass of the lounge, it could have been to anybody. But, after a wink, a blown kiss and intense eye contact as she moaned in apart of the song “Bitches Broken Hearts”, she was almost certain her girlfriend, standing out amidst the others in that linen dress, was the target of Billie’s affection.

And the girls’ teasing just seemed to solidify the theory.

“Damn, Billie’s really coming for your girl, huh?” Manon joked, nudging a tense Lara with her elbow, “Look at her face.”

Daniela exhaled deeply, “I could feel the heats from here.”

Megan whistled, fanning herself. “Can you blame her? Y/N’s looking mighty fine in that dress.”

Sophia playfully shoved her in the shoulder as she eyed the tight clench of Lara’s jaw. “Don’t go instigating, guys. There’s like twelve other people standing in that VIP box.”

Yoonchae tilted her head, before pointing at something on one of the screens. “Is Billie… pointing?”

The six members gathered around the screens, their headsets and mic’s still clutched in their hands. It looked to be Billie standing from her seat beside Finneas. And as the man played the tune to “I Didn’t Change My Number”, Billie walked her way to the edge of the stage, gazing over thousands of fans reaching for her and letting out shrill screams. But her own gaze landed on the woman up in the VIP lounge, shimmering red beneath the showcase lights. Her hand rose to point at the woman as she belched a particular line, a line she had written for her when reminiscing on the times Billie would love waking to this woman’s bare back.

Lara knew of Y/N’s past, her friendship then turned brief but toxic relationship with Billie. Y/N had assured her many, many times there was nothing there anymore, they don’t even talk, but the way Billie seemed to be flaunting her feelings for her girlfriend was like waving red before a bull.

She was going to fucking murder Billie Eilish.

Assisted backstage by Katseye’s manager after the concert, Y/N waited anxiously, knowing she’d have to face Lara sooner or later. She was excited to jump into her girlfriend’s arms, showering her with kisses and praise for how good she did onstage. She hoped to explain everything in case she had seen the whole Billie fiasco, but fate had other plans.

“Oh, hey!” Billie called out. She was catching her breath, sweat dripping from her head with her hair clipped up lousily. She had a bottle of water in her hand, half-drunk and crushed in between her fingers. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Y/N swallowed, nodding politely. “Yeah, you were good.”

“Yeah?” Billie smirked, looking down to wet her lips as she capped the bottle. “I was hoping you’d like it.”

The woman glanced past the singer’s shoulder to scout for her girlfriend or somebody from Katseye who could get her out of this situation. “Yeah, I really enjoyed the show. Hey, maybe we should catch up some other day over drinks, yeah?”

Billie tilted her head, “Really? I’d love that.”

She pulled her phone out her pocket, “I’ll text you a time and place. You still have the same number?”

From behind Y/N, Katseye had changed into the outfits they came in. They were laughing and chatting about the success of their performance. But Lara was ahead of the group, buzzing on her feet in excitement to see her girlfriend.

“Oh my God, is Y/N… talking to Billie Eilish?” Daniel gasped, “Wait, Lara, I didn’t know your girlfriend was friends with her. Maybe she could introduce us.”

But Lara stopped in her tracks, staring at the singer inching closer to her woman with a phone in her hand. She was sporting that signature smirk, her sleepy eyes drinking in the perfect skin to dress ratio her get-up offered. Without another thought, she strode over.

Y/N felt big hands palm her waist, sliding down and around her back. Warm lips met her cheek, before a taller figure loomed over her and alluring dark eyes met her own. She was basking in that post-performance afterglow and she looked ethereal. Before Y/N could greet her girlfriend or contain the excitement she felt suddenly surge from her head to her feet. Lara was already glaring at Billie, who just looked between them with an eyebrow raised.

“Hey, baby” Y/N started, the smile on her face spreading as she grabbed Lara’s face, pressing a couple kisses against her cheek. “You were incredible tonight.”

“Thanks,” Lara said curtly, her attention still trained on Billie, who brushed her nose and looked away. Her grip on the shorter’s waist tightened, fingers making its mark on her skin beneath the dress. She nodded towards Billie, who slipped her hand in her pocket. “What’s good? I’m Lara.”

“Billie.” The latter stuck a hand out, but retreated when Lara didn’t seem to entertain the offer for a handshake. “I’m a big fan. You guys looked amazing out there.”

“Mhm. What’re you guys talking about?”

“Nothing, baby, we were just catching up.” Y/N’s hand rested on Lara’s chest, fingertips caressing the fabric of her top in attempts to soothe the seething rage from the singer. “I was just saying goodbye to Billie. I’ll, uh—see you around?”

Billie nodded, winking. “See you around then, pretty girl.”

As she turned to leave, Lara pried herself from Y/N’s grasp. Her jaw locked and her fist clenched, she would have thrown a punch if Sophia and Y/N hadn’t held her back. The girls circled around the couple, keeping the redhead from getting in any trouble cameras could potentially catch.

“Lara, baby, please!” Y/N gasped, both hands on Lara’s chest as the taller looked over her shoulder at Billie disappearing into her dressing room.

“What the fuck is her problem, doesn’t she see me here?”

“Just let it go, it’s what Billie does, she’s trying to get a rise out of you.” The younger fixed the hair that fell into Lara’s face, gently cradling her face. Sophia motioned for the other girls to leave the two of them alone, they slipped away to the Katseye lounge for the afterparty. “Breathe, baby.”

Lara huffed, her lip twitched. Her nostrils flared as her jaw remained clenched, still looking anywhere but at Y/N.

Still, she didn’t reject her girlfriend’s touch.

Y/N’s arms circled around Lara’s neck, her fingers nipping at the baby hairs under her waves. Her body leant into Lara’s, gently tugging her into an embrace.

When she pulled away, Lara’s harsh grip on her hips softened.

“What the fuck was that? ‘Pretty girl’?” She scoffed.

“This is what she does, you can’t let her get to you.” She assured, “Billie’s just being… Billie.”

“And the fucking serenading? Is there something you wanna tell me, Y/N? She was singing and pointing at you during all her fucking sex songs.” Lara grunted, crossing her arms. “What, it’s just a fucking coincidence she was looking straight at the lounge of all the places she could’ve looked at?”

“Baby, you’re being ridiculous.” Y/N sighed, “I told her I was here with you. It’s not like that.”

“Really? After that whole show she put on onstage?” Lara’s jaw tightened. “And you just happened to run into her tonight? Backstage? With her all up on you like a slobbering dog even when she knew you’re here for me?”

“I didn’t plan it,” Y/N said quickly. “I bumped into her when I was tryna look for you. We only talked for a minute, I swear.”

Lara’s eyes searched Y/N’s face, her walls firmly up. “She was staring at you the whole, fucking thing. Do you have any idea how that looked? To me? To the audience?”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I only have eyes for you, Lara. Billie doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”

Lara hesitated, her tough exterior cracking just slightly. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“No, you had other things to worry about,” Y/N said earnestly. “You worked so hard for this, and I didn’t want to distract you. I’m sorry for talking to her, she just wanted to catch up.”

Lara sighed, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “It’s not just about tonight. It’s about how I feel when I see you with someone like Billie—someone who clearly still wants to fuck you. Have you seen the way she was ogling you like you were a piece of meat?” She took the brown leather jacket she had on off, draping it over Y/N’s shoulders. “This pretty little body should just be for me, you got it? Me. Not Billie.”

“Lara,” Y/N gasped, feeling the taller’s hands palm her ass.

“I wanna hear you say it, baby girl,” Lara looked down at her girlfriend’s body, her eyes darkening and her lips slightly parted. Her hand slid beneath the base of Y/N’s dress. “Who does this body belong to, hm?”

“You, baby,” Y/N moaned softly, “Only you.”

Without warning, Lara closed the distance between them, capturing Y/N’s lips in a fierce, possessive kiss. Y/N’s breath hitched, but she melted into it, letting Lara’s touch silence every worry. Lara’s hands moved to Y/N’s waist, pulling her closer as if to claim her in front of the world.

When they finally broke apart, Lara’s eyes burned with intensity. “Come on.”

Y/N doesn’t even remember how they guys got there, but they were parked in an empty lot somewhere on the way back to the dorms. She was too focused on Lara’s hand inching higher and higher each minute as she sped down the streets. Then, Lara would hop out the car, circling around to pop open the door on the passenger’s side. Y/N let out a loud squeal as the Indian leant in to pick her out, carrying her in her arms. She kicked the door closed, opening the one in the back and gently setting the younger inside.

Getting in, Lara cramped herself in between the woman’s legs, closing the car door behind her.

As she leant down to push her own jacket off her girlfriend’s shoulders, her free hand raked up the woman’s bare thigh, scrunching her red dress. The two of them were making out like two animals in heat, a complete mess. The Indian’s teeth grazed the skin of her jaw, trailing wet kissed down her neck to her collarbone. Her lips latched onto the smooth skin of her chest, sucking red, dark bruises onto her.

“Fuck, I love this colour on you.” Lara growled into their neck, her hands caressing the curve of her hips.

With her mascara running and her lipgloss smudged, Y/N looked up at Lara’s darkening eyes taking in her disheveled look. The straps of your spaghetti dress were already halfway down your arms. She smirked, “I prefer it off of me.”

Her hands had found their way under her dress, fingers lacing into the waistband of her red laced thong. She rubbed her clit through the fabric, drawing out a moan from Y/N’s lips.

Growing frustrated with the fabric, she slid them off her legs.

Automatically Y/N spread her legs, giving Lara better access to her glistening pussy.

"Aww, baby. Look how wet you are for me." She teased as she rubs her bud gently. “You this wet for Billie too?”

The car filled with the sound of their bodies shifting, fabric rustling, and harsh breaths as they both grapple for control. Lara’s fingers grabbed one of her legs, throwing it over her shoulder, her fingertips digging into her skin, while Y/N’s hands tangle in her hair, pulling roughly. The younger woman shook her head, whimpers escaping her swollen lips.

“Please, Lara, don’t tease.”

Lara pulled away quickly, hand raising to grab Y/N’s cheeks harshly. She whimpered at the loss of friction, fingers reaching down the older’s back, nails scratching lines into her skin. Y/N bucked her hips into the knee between her legs, needing more.

Y/N can't help but focus on the sensation of her leg between hers, the friction sparking a tickle within her. She ground against her harder, the heat building between your legs, and she let out a soft moan, her head falling back against the seat.

Lara’s hand trailed down her inner thigh, teasingly close to where she need her most.

"Nobody fucks you like I do." Her fingers slip further under her legs, tracing her fingernails against the skin around her core. Y/N can feel the heat of her hand, fingers inching closer, but not close enough. "Say it." she groaned, her lips brushing against her earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine.

Her hips move with the rhythm of her hand, pushing against it, seeking more. "Yes, Lara," Y/N whispered, her voice hoarse with desire, "Nobody fucks me like you do.”

“Mmh, that’s what I thought.” she smirked, her warm breath brushing her cheek as she slowly pulled her hand away, leaving you empty and aching.

She watched her girlfriend squirm under her, a leg still held over her shoulder. Her eyes flicking down to where she was still pressed against her thigh, seeking relief. She spread her legs slightly, allowing her more room to grind against her. “Such a fucking brat, flirting with your ex.”

“Stop being an asshole and fuck me already!” Y/N whined desperately, her nails digging into her shoulders.

She moved her fingers to plunge into her girlfriend. Y/N let out a loud moan.

“At least when I’m an asshole, I have enough gas in the tank to fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked.” she growled, pressing herself against her. “In the back of my car like a whore.”

Lara dove into the crook of the younger’s neck, her teeth sinking into her tender flesh to silence a groan coming from her own throat at the feeling of your cunt around her, starting a steady rhythm, she gripped your hips harder. “You gonna go talk to Billie after this? Show her the marks all over your body?”

The younger moaned loudly, the sound reverberating off the car walls. Her hand grasped at Lara’s hair.

“Shut up and keep fucking me.” she argued back, pushing back against her to meet her thrusts. the force of her movements made the car rock, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air.

Her moans grew louder and more desperate as she continued to pound into you, one hand moving to grip your hair roughly. “Oh, fuck—God, Lara!—don't stop!'"

Lara’s other hand reached around to rub her clit, her fingers pressing hard against the sensitive nub as she fucked the younger mercilessly. Y/N’s body shook with the force of her movements, her legs trembling on the seat.

She hissed in Y/N’a ear, her breath hot and heavy, “You take me so well, baby,” she bites and sucks, quick to muffle any noises with her mouth, “just obsessed with my fingers, right?”

Y/N arched her back even more, pressing herself against Lara’s hot body as she filled her completely.

“Y-yes. Lara…” she slurred, “You feel so good!”

The windows of the car fogged up as the vehicle rocked violently with each thrust. Lara’s sweat dripped down her arm as she drove into Y/N relentlessly. By the way her legs were shaking, Lara knew she was close. “Cum for me, baby.”

Y/N’s moans grew louder, more urgent, as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Lewd noises escaped her parted lips. She clawed at Lara’s back as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. Lara helped her ride out her high, before sliding out. She plugged her fingers straight into her mouth, moaning at the tangy taste. She leant down, ignoring the slight burn she felt along her spine, kissing a panting Y/N’s forehead.

“Next time I see you with her, I’m gonna make her watch as I fuck you silly. Got it?”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Hot Daddy

Prompt Day 23: Hot Chocolate | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Mild Use of "Daddy" | Tags: AU, Meet Cute, Single Dad Steve, Platonic Stobin

"Hot chocolate?" 

Eddie's startled from his thoughts, looking to see where the unexpected question came from. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, off in his own world, as Wayne would say. Well, he says that, and that Eddie's lucky he doesn't accidentally walk into traffic.

Which, true. It has happened a time or two. But what Wayne doesn't know won't hurt him.

Locating the voice that had spoken is interesting, because Eddie was not expecting to look down, or expecting a hot man next to a table full of little girls clearing running a fundraiser. There's a little girl looking up at him expectantly, and she must have been the one that asked.

Hot guy's hand is resting on her shoulder protectively, and she must be his daughter, since she's his little doppelganger.

The guy is eyeing him, and Eddie knows he looks scarier than he actually is, so he smiles, trying to look less intimidating. At least the girl isn't scared of him, it seems. Not his tattoos, not his piercings, not his heavy leather and attitude.

"Hi, sir!" She says, all chipper, like it isn't freezing cold, "We're selling hot chocolate and cookies to help pay for camp."

It's a script, and a little stilted, but she's got the spirit, that's for sure. And he hasn't been called sir in, well, ever, maybe.

"Of course," he says, and shifts his duffle bag to his other arm so he can reach for his wallet.

The little handwritten sign has their pricing, which he is certain is too low, and he fishes out a ten dollar bill, handing it over.

"Keep the change," he says, and the girls squeal and jump up and down. 

The man finally grins, like Eddie's won him over, just a little. 

Suddenly, there's several girls wanting to be involved in the translation, handing him a sack of cookies, napkins, as hot dad pours hot chocolate out of a stainless steel dispenser.

"Marshmallows?" he asks, and Eddie grins.

"You know it."

He shakes some into Eddie's cup, then a few more as he meets Eddie's eyes and winks, then hands it over.

"Thank you," Eddie says, and he could look into those golden eyes all day. He'd love to see them in the daylight. He bets they are so warm.

"Thanks for supporting the cause," the pretty-eyed hot dad says, and Eddie takes one more long look at him before walking away.

It's good hot chocolate and great cookies. He's impressed. 

The table isn't there the next night, or the few after, and Eddie feels a little bummed out that he missed his opportunity to flirt a little, feel him out.

He wasn't wearing a ring.

Eddie's certain of that. He looked. He also knows no ring isn't the end all and be all, some people just don't wear them, but no ring means that he might have had a chance. And a chance is all he needs.

So, he was hoping they'd be back now that it is the weekend again, but no luck.

"Why so mopey?" Robin asks, and Eddie turns to look at her. 

"I saw a guy on the sidewalk, and I hoped he'd be back on the street corner tonight–"

"Eddie!"

"–but maybe it was just a weekend thing?" Eddie ponders.

"Eddie, are you trying to hire a prostitute?" she asks, eyes huge.

"What? No!" He throws back his head and laughs, "He was a perfectly respectable man! With a little girl!" 

She raises an eyebrow.

"His daughter!"

Eddie's just digging a deeper and deeper hole as she laughs at him.

"I'm not following," she says, leaning on the counter of the music store. She started about two months ago, and so far, he likes her.

"There was a booth of kids doing a fundraiser. The dad that was supervising was hot."

She laughs at him, but it doesn't seem mean. Then her face changes, "When was this? What'd he look like?"

"Last Friday. Good hair. My height? I don't know. A real pretty dude."

"Swoopy hair?" she asks.

"What's swoopy hair?" he asks, and she makes a motion with her hands, and well, maybe?

"Yeah, maybe," he says, as if the image of this guy hasn't been burned into his retinas.

Then, he really hears what she's been asking:

"Robin. Robin Buckley. Do you know hot daddy?"

"Ew, no. Never say that to me again."

"Sorry," he mutters, feeling chided. 

"Steve–" she starts, and he really, really doesn't want to hear about her Bobbsey Twin of a best friend Steve right now. He feels like he knows more about Steve than he knows about Robin, which is crazy for someone he's never met.

"Robin. No more Steve stories," he says, resting his forehead against the counter, banging it slightly.

Steve's a teacher. Steve's a coach. Steve played sports in college. Steve could have gone pro. Steve's a single dad. Steve's the best.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

He doesn't have the brainpower to deal with the Legend of Steve right now.

"Eddie–"

"Robin!" he interrupts. 

"Fine. Don't let me talk," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. 

And it's finally, blissfully, silent. At least for a few minutes.

Eddie's behind the counter when the bell over the door jingles. He looks up, and – hot daddy.

Robin elbows him in the ribs, "I told you never to say that again!"

"I didn't know I did!" he yelps.

She laughs, "Steve, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Steve."

"You're Steve?" Eddie asks, and he knows his cheeks are red.

"The one and only," Steve says, and Eddie really wishes he'd paid better attention when Robin talked about him now. If wishes were horses, indeed.

Steve's holding two to-go cups, and leans up against the counter, handing one over to Eddie, not Robin. 

Eddie takes it, dumbly. It's hot chocolate, and Eddie looks down at it:

555-0083 Call me Hot Daddy

Steve winks, and turns and walks back out.

Eddie's gonna kill Robin.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! ☕

Notes: Punctuation is important, Steve. Should Eddie call you on the phone - or call you hot daddy. Decisions, decisions. Why not both? 🤣

[treatbuckywkisses]

I took it to the notes app bc dumblr posted my other review prematurely smh my head

Twice upon a time ( that's the note )

Oh to be taught to fight by nat & steve SO iconic 😭 

The chat but not share thing is so heartbreaking but completely realistic (I'm feeling the angst) 

"And you've grown determined to not intentionally hurt people with your powers. Not anymore." - Who did we hurt then who is hurting other than us.

"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." - I look at my man exactly like this too 

“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.” - go sit in a corner for this

"Time is seriously out of your hands, and it’s only getting worse." - I tried to not laugh I did 

Also celebrity guest Stephen Strange thanks (or not??) for stopping by 

"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. " - thank fucking God finally (with love) 

"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." - ok fuck me then

The slight changes in the multiple loops is so good I'm like foaming at the mouth 

Bucky and reader dynamic I'm starting to seeeee !! I actually started kicking my feet and twirling my hair (I love when big man brood but show care) 

UGH I love that I have no idea where this is going (in a good way!!!!) I'm so worried for reader and how fast we seem to be literally deteriorating😭 get help bitch! (Lovingly)

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 💚

[mclarengf]

thinking about… trying to bake with daniel ricciardo

note: if danny ricc has a million fans, i am one of them. if danny ricc has ten fans, i am one of them. if danny ricc has only one fan, then that one fan is me. if danny ricc has no fans, then that means i am no longer on this earth. if the world is against danny ricc, then i am against the world. (happy holidays!!)

—

it’s christmas eve and daniel has instigated a food fight. you’re supposed to be making a pavlova to bring to his parents’ house tomorrow, but daniel’s seemingly decided that flicking meringue onto your face three times in a row is a good idea.

he looks away every time, whistling as if he’s done nothing wrong. you narrow your eyes at the back of his head, waiting for him to crack.

“what’s wrong, love?” he turns back and questions why you’ve stopped mixing the meringue batter, though his mouth twitches when he sees your expression.

this time, you stay silent, glaring at him.

finally, he laughs, eyes crinkling as he throws his head back. you wait for him to finish, crossing your arms and frowning.

daniel hiccups another laugh out and steps toward you, hands up.

“it was funny, you gotta admit,” he tries defending himself.

“i hate you sometimes,” you retort.

his face drops and he clutches his hands over his heart, “ouch, love!”

“oh, shut up, danny,” you sneer at him as you turn your attention back to the meringues, mumbling a, “cunt,” under your breath.

you can feel when he comes up behind you, warmth radiating off his body even in the summer. he wraps his arms around your shoulders, dropping his head down too.

“i love you~” he sings, trying to get back on your good side.

you say nothing.

you can practically hear him pout in your ear, disappointed in the fact that his actions have consequences.

“c’mon babe, it was just a joke! it’s christmas eve, you can’t be mad at me! i’m sorry!”

when you still don’t respond, daniel takes his arms off you and resigns himself to keep cutting up the fruit.

when he’s settled back into a rhythm of doing that, you scoop some of the mix onto your finger, reach over, and smear it onto his cheek before running to the other side of the kitchen so he can’t catch you.

“aw, you-“ he grins again, bright as anything, and lunges at you, chasing you around the island and through the living room as you giggle.

he finally tackles you into the couch. the smudge is still on his cheek.

“you’re silly,” you scrunch your nose up at him as you catch your breath.

daniel just smiles, admiring you beneath him.

“i love you,” he tries again.

“i love you too, dummy.”

he then collapses on top of you, holding you tight in his embrace. it’s nice; it’s like a weighted blanket which walks and talks and happens to be very annoying sometimes. you melt into his arms, and reach around to hug him back.

daniel’s always been your safe space, and you’re able to be that for him too now, with him being home a lot more than he had been in september, for some strange reason.

you don’t want to let his mind drift back to his career predicament with too much silence, though, so you nudge him and tell him to clean off his cheek.

instead of grabbing a washcloth, or a paper towel, or something sensible, daniel just runs his finger through the meringue and sticks it in his mouth.

you make a face at him, expressing your disgust. you can see the bits he’s missed still sticking to his skin.

“that tastes so good, baby. it’s gonna bang tomorrow night.” he looks at you in awe of your baking skills before dropping back down onto your shoulder. he’s obviously content with staying like this.

fine, you can cuddle for a while, you guess. the pavlova’s not going anywhere.

wait- the pavlova.

“fuck, danny, the meringue’s gonna go flat!”

you scramble off the couch and back to the kitchen so you don’t ruin joe and grace’s christmas.

when daniel comments on how the pavlova looks kind of funny at dinner the next night, you just kick him under the table and say he must be imagining things.

[gokyrts]

your carlos fic was amazing... can you do a mafia au carlos?

hiii nonnie! thanks for putting in a request<3 there were many thoughts about mafia Carlos, so here’s my take on this AU 🤭 this contains both SFW and NSFW thoughts, the latter will be under the cut!!

wc: 1.2k

SFW

—Mafia boss!Carlos would be a tantalizing mix of calculated behavior deluded with kindness:

Being under the wing of a local mob had its perks even with the risks that came from inside the organization. A risk you realized you took accidentally when you walked in on a family meeting, the boss himself sitting at the head of the table. The voices died down, everyone was staring and you gulped. A shiver ran down your spine when Carlos stood up, silently walking around the table to you.

“W-What’s going on?” You squeaked out, but that was the wrong kind of question to ask.

“I cannot tell you, preciosa…” Carlos’ voice wrapped around you like the first gust of wind in late autumn — chilling amidst the warmth.

“If I tell you, I’d have to kill you… and I don’t want to do that.” And you saw the cold honesty in his eyes which, despite their depth, seemed hollow and loveless. Yet it juxtaposed the warmth of his voice in your ear, the sweetness of the petname he used for you…

You nodded meekly, understanding your place and feeling a strange sense of gratitude that he took mercy on you, despite your intrusion. Carlos tilted his head at your reaction, a hint of a smile on his lips. He brought his hand up to your cheek, caressing the soft skin with the back of his fingers.

“Good girl… now, back to your duties.” He ordered you like he would a servant and yet you found yourself happily obliging, scattering from where he held a meeting with the family.

His smile fell when you rounded the corner and he turned around to go back into the room you so unfortunately stumbled into.

—Mafia boss!Carlos would not tolerate his men disrespecting you:

No matter which position you held in the family, you were always respected… only on occasion, someone dared to do the opposite. A new young man joined the family not long ago, he noticed you around the estate and nearby bar the family owned. He made the unfortunate mistake of assuming you were a local escort. Before he was able to further dig his own grave, he caught a hand upside his head.

“Oi! Cabrón, this isn’t some whore you can chat up!” One of the capos scolded, trying to save the new guy’s ass before the boss would notice but Carlos was watching the entire exchange. He clicked his tongue, catching the attention of the rest of the men in the bar, and beckoned the new guy with his finger. He was already sweating and slowly approached the boss.

“Y-Yes, boss?”

“What is your name?” Carlos asked, his tone indifferent, yet the look in his eyes told everyone they were about to witness a lesson being taught. The young man in question told Carlos his name, to which Carlos repeated it, letting out a hum as if in thought before continuing.

“How would your mamá feel if she knew you were treating women this way?” The distaste for others seeing you as less than you were was clear in Carlos’ tone and you watched with interest as the guy stammered.

“S-She wouldn’t be happy, boss…”

Carlos nodded in acknowledgment before leaning forward.

“She would give you a worse beating than I ever would so I suggest you apologize to the señorita before I get your mother on the phone.”

In mere moments you had the new guy at your feet, apologising for his behavior and a promise he’d never dare assume who you were or any other woman for that matter. Carlos could only watch on with a smirk on his lips.

—Mafia boss!Carlos would make sure you have everything you need:

You want a new dress? Boom, it’s laid out on your bed. You like a particular piece of jewelry? Boom, it’s sitting in a pretty box for you to take. Anything and everything you wanted, the boss provided. A shopping spree? There are three bodyguards with you, carrying your bags, holding the doors open, driving you around. You really got the princess treatment from their leader. When you returned, Carlos would of course have you model it for him since he bought all of it, in some cases, the dresses had to be returned because his hands were too eager trying to take them off of you and he ripped them. Worry not, he made up for it.

NSFW 18+ under the cut

—Mafia boss!Carlos would have you at his beck and call:

You would know when he snapped his fingers, when his gaze intensified, that was your call, your call to drop to your knees and serve your boss. He loved how perfectly you fit under the table in his office, how easy it was to thrust into your mouth, watching you take every inch of him. He especially loved the look in your eyes when one of his men came in and Carlos didn’t stop, he held you there, nose buried in his pubic hair as you gagged, till he let you come up for a breath.

“That’s it, preciosa… you like it, huh? I can see you rubbing those thighs together…”

Your cheeks only reddened at his words, making him grin. He stretched his leg, sliding it between your thighs.

“Come on, be a good girl for me… get yourself off on my boot.”

Of course, you’d be licking the mess you made off the expensive leather of his boot later when he allowed you to cum.

—Mafia boss!Carlos would do his occasional inspections:

You nearly yelped when you felt someone step up behind you but the warmth of Carlos’ big hands on your waist soon put you at ease.

“Shhh, it’s just me…” He cooed, humored by your startled behavior. His hands traveled lower, hoisting up your skirt. You bit your lip, thighs trembling in anticipation as you realised Carlos’ curiosity got the best of him again.

“Mmm, I like this pair on you,” He praised, his thumbs digging into your lower back slightly, forcing your forward, making your ass stick out as he appreciated the sight of you in a particular set of panties. You gasped when he smacked your right cheek, your reaction earning you a warm chuckle from the Spaniard.

“Beautiful…” Carlos continued, his fingers hooking in the waistband and pulling it down. You obediently stepped out of them, your skirt falling back in place. The piece of clothing looked tiny in Carlos’ big hand and you could see him smirk as he noticed the patch of wetness on them. But it wouldn’t be Carlos if he didn’t do something to make you yearn more for him. He pocketed the underwear and you could feel your heart racing.

“I—” He didn’t let you finish the thought, putting a finger against your lips.

“Shhh, you can come earn them back later, hmm, how does that sound, preciosa?”

Carlos didn’t wait for an answer, he knew you would come so he just left, with your soaked panties in his pocket, letting you walk around bare underneath your skirt the whole day.

want more thoughts on mafia boss Carlos or do you have your own? lemme know in my askbox!! <3

2024 @ gokyrts . do not distribute or translate my work on other sites.

[nislost]

unvirgin | chapter 6

warnings: suggestive, people being mean again

(written + smau)

you’re driving back to your apartment after you finished your class. you have 2 hours to get ready and you need to look good. you quickly jump in the shower to shave and take off all that school stench off of you.

after two hours you check how you look in the mirror and you feel good. wearing the two piece outfit your friends voted on that consisted of a tight miniskirt that matched the cropped jacket you had and platform heels because who are you without your heels?

you rush out the door and make your way to the library after you notice you’re 5 minutes late. at least you’ll be fashionably late! you walk into the library searching for the black haired boy and when you do you smile walking your way over. tapping jeno on his shoulder he turns around startled.

“sorry i’m late” you whisper giving him an apologetic smile. “i-it’s fine don’t worry” he whispers before clearing his voice his eyes looking everywhere but you. you giggle at his nervous state before sitting in the empty seat next to him. you noticed he looked good really good…why? well he’s wearing the number 1 kitty cat defeater. gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie.

“so what did you need help with?” jeno asks softly not to bother others around. “everything” you groan “i swear math is my worst enemy” he chuckles at your words. “okay let’s start from the beginning of the topic we’re currently learning” he says as he takes out a stack of textbooks from his bag causing your jaw to drop.

your reaction makes him giggle which in return causes you to pout. “stop laughing at my pain” you mutter. you prepare mentally and physically for the time you’ll be spending here.

30 minutes in your brain is hurting and you’re completely frustrated. you begin working on a problem jeno gave you until your ears pick up a conversation behind you “omg did you see y/n with jeno?” one voice says “omg yeah i bet she’s trying to get into his pants” the other voice replies with a giggle. you can’t blame them you have a reputation, but it doesn’t give them the right to talk about you like that. “she’s such a fucking slut. poor jeno” the first voice says.

jeno notices your mood change and the conversation behind him. “i heard she fucked the principal and that’s why she’s here” they just kept going. they were wrong the reason you even got into this university was because you (kinda) tried in high school. don’t get you wrong you never studied or anything you just did the bare minimum and that got you a 3.4 gpa.

your friends wondered what happened since then and it’s just because you lost motivation and wanted to have more fun, but look where that landed you. you get up from your seat causing jeno to look at you confused and worried. you give him a smile “i’ll be right back” you state before you walking over to where those girls were.

seeing you in front of them made them shocked “what? you can talk shit about me behind my back why not in my face” you raise your brow waiting for them to respond. they just look at each other before one of them finally speaks up. “w-well it’s not like we’re wrong! look at yourself you dress like a prostitute” she spits out. the other girl taps her friend and points somewhere behind you. you turn around confused and see jeno.

“what’s going on here?” he asks. both the girls in front of you begin to stutter “n-nothing” “nothing at all! we’re just talking about how much we love y/n’s outfit” you roll your eyes at their words. jeno just hums in response before grabbing your arm and taking you back to your table. “anyways let’s continue our tutoring. don’t let anyone distract you.” he says giving you back your pencil.

you sigh before continuing solving the equations given.

2 hours pass and you’ve grown tired. “do you think we can stop for today?” you ask letting out a yawn. jeno chuckles before nodding. “oh i forgot to ask earlier but what would you want in return for you helping me? money, food or something else? i’m okay with doing anything” you turn to him. jeno ponders seeing if there is anything you could possibly help or do for him.

“can- no never mind that’s too embarrassing to ask for” he says blushing and looking away. this interests you a lot and makes you wonder. “just ask i already said id do anything” you say softly somewhat implying something. “i-i can’t” he stutters his nervousness makes you grin. you place a hand on his thigh to “comfort” him and it causes him to flinch. “jeno you can tell me” you pout tilting your head. he looks at the hand on his thigh then up at you.

“i have no experience…in you know” he mutters because you could hardly hear him you lean in closer “repeat what you said louder” he looks at you all flustered which makes something purr and it’s definitely not your pet cat at home. “can you h-help me um” he groans “take your time baby” you giggle. his ears perk up at the nickname you didn’t even realize you said.

“can you um unvirgin me?” he says softly looking at you with a vulnerable expression. you can’t help but giggle “unvirgin? seriously?” he looks at you embarrassed. “jeno are you sure? wouldn’t you want to save something like that for someone special?” you giggle again “i have no experience and everyone around our age has at least done it once and all my friends tease me” he looks at you with a pleading gaze.

“fine. i’ll unvirgin you, but only if i pass a math test. just so that’ll give you time to think this through” you stand up. jeno quickly nods before standing up as well and walking you to your car. “u-uh ill text you about our next session” he stutters slightly which makes him want to punch himself. you nod before driving off.

previous / next

taglist: @jenoleeaesthetic @yukisroom97 @4yunogf @iloveyou200 @antifrggile @t-102 @n0hyuck @cigarettesafterjae @bellymellyyyy @dudekiss3r @puzzlepiece-mp3 @nctdreamchaser @snoopyjimin @taeeflwrr @whothefvckami @minkyuncutie @sungsgirl @sunghoonsgfreal @toroufriteh @cookydream @flamingi @purrzitas @grassbutneo

[mydarlingclaudia]

christmas party hop

note : SECRET SANTA FIC FOR @candlekiss !!! MERYY CHRISTMAS THIS IS EXTREMELY RUSHED BUT I WISH YOU THE MERRIEST CHRISTMAS I HOPE YOU GET EVERYTHING YOU WANTED!!!! the quality inst that good because I didn’t write this in like an hour im so so sorry erm

wc : 1.5k

tags : @withonly-sweetheart @leonsecretsanta

desc : roommates and mistletoe don’t mix well. roommates to lovers, fluff (??), re4r!Leon, fem!reader, not proofread

It feels like you have to force Leon to do anything that involves socializing. He can manage the dishes and laundry by any other chores himself, but when it comes to having people over, he always shuts himself away in his room. You really shouldn’t care, it’s none of your business and not everyone likes having company over, but you can’t help but wish he’d come out for at least an hour or two and have some fun.

He's always been nice to you, civil, at least. He's appreciative of any dinner you cook for him or taking time out of your day to take care of him while he's sick, he does the same for you, if he's able. It's typical roommate behavior, you think. Maybe Leon's just more comfortable around you than others, though it could also be that it's your friends that come over more than his.

But he's never really had any of his friends or coworkers come over. You've met Chris and Jill a few times, same with Claire and Marvin, but you've never come home to see any of the four sitting on the couch talking with Leon. The times that you've met them you seemed to get along, they had mentioned Leon talking about you and that you seem as sweet as he says, so that's a good thing, right?

So you get the idea of throwing a Christmas party for yours and Leon’s friends, no big deal. It's not like it's a huge thing, just a few more people in your apartment than normal, you're doing this for Leon's sake, anyway.

Only Chris and Claire had shown up thirty minutes early to help set up (which they hadn’t really mentioned to you) along with Sherry, Jill brought Carlos and they both brought more than enough booze, Marvin’s arrival was fine, your own friends came in a little loud, but they brought pies so it was ok.

But now you’re jammed in the kitchen with Sherry whose trying to scoop cookie dough onto the cookie sheet, Claire whose pulling turkey out of the oven, Carlos whose coming back into the kitchen for more beer, and yourself who has been trying and failing to make eggnog. People are still running in and out of the kitchen, squeezing behind everyone cooking, yelling over the Christmas music that was playing.

“I put up mistletoe,”Claire nudges you as she walks past, carrying the pot full of stuffing. “Keep an eye out.”

“You decorated?” You turn to face her, licking some of the eggnog off your finger.

“Sherrys idea,”

“Pssh, sure.”

“Honest! Come on,” Claire laughs, “Is there a problem?”

“I’m not kissing you,” Claire rolls her eyes, setting the pot of stuffing down onto the table and starting to scoop it out into a big bowl. Two of your friends squeeze behind you to get first pickings of the food being set out, Chris and Jill follow after.

“You gotta kick Leon off the tv, the only thing he’s watching is that stupid Christmas baking show.” One of your friends giggles trying to get your attention as you help Sherry slide the cookie sheets into the oven.

“Yeah? What do you wanna watch?”

“Well, we were supposed to turn on Home Alone ten minutes ago…” She mumbled, already shoving turkey into her mouth. You flinch away from the heat of the oven and shake your hands as you pull away, standing upright.

”Alright, alright, I’ll talk to him.” You shove by Carlos and Sherry, through the doorway into the living room and walking towards Leon who is still hogging the remote. Leon can hear you walking towards him, he looks to you, his resting face changing into a smile.

“Got no holiday cheer?” You tease, sitting next to him on the couch.

“I’m filled to the brim with it,” He mutters rolling his eyes slightly.

“Oh my God, let’s just watch some Christmas movies. I spent hours in the kitchen for this, y’know.” You lean on his shoulder and pry the remote from his grip, he sighs.

“You’re so lucky I like you,”

“No shit, come on.” You grab his hand and pull him to stand up with you, dragging him towards the doorway and into the kitchen, getting plates for the both of you while the others continue to rush around the two of you.

You’re sure that if you and Leon had a driveway, Leon would find some reason to be outside shoveling, or if you had decorated outside, he’d find another reason to fiddle with the lights. He does come out of his shell a bit and chimes in to talk to Chris and Claire, he jokes with Sherry, pokes at Carlos and plays up being offended.

He’s not paying attention to the movie, but he taps his foot along to the Christmas music that’s still playing, he follows you around, though.

Leon normally does this if the two of you are ever out together, he trails after you, trying to hold k to your sleeve so he doesn’t lose you in a crowd. You know it’s not typical roommate behavior, but you find it cute, plus it’s not hurting anyone, right?

Even when you and Leon get knocked around by everyone else in your small apartment and end up bumping into each other, he holds your gaze and almost reaches out to grab you so you can stay for another moment and ignore the party.

There are kisses under the mistletoe— all between Carlos and Jill, though.

Leon and you do get held under the doorframe for a moment. It’s when Chris is talking to Sherry in the living room while she was trying to make her way into the kitchen and when one of your friends was trying to come into the living room, both you and Leon were standing and chatting.

Leon didn’t kiss you, unfortunately.

Claire didn’t take down her decorations when the party was over, everyone helped pick up the mess they made, but your apartment looked more holly-jolly than it did before the party.

You’ve already brushed your teeth and changed into your pajamas, Leon’s done the same, but he’s been looking up for the past few minutes.

“What’re you looking at?” You question, setting your cup of water down on the counter and stepping closer as he waves you over. You stand beneath the doorframe with him, looking up at the mistletoe hanging from it.

There’s a kiss pressed to your cheek within the next second, you look back to Leon to see the grin on his face.

“Just on the cheek?” You tease, crossing your arms.

“You want it on the lips?”

“Well, that’s the tradition, isn’t it?” You giggle, bringing your hand up and cupping his cheek, he pulls you in at the same time for the kiss you both expected, only he’s a bit more passionate than you.

[sabreensthings]

Neve x Rook

summary: a pessimist falls for an optimist

Neve Gallus was a cynic at heart.

She didn't take most things at face value, always looked for the smallest details in every interaction, every piece of information she could get her polished hands on. Look close enough and you'd always find an answer hidden between the lines - the honeyed words of a patron, the subtle mannerisms of restless fingers, or the smudged ink scattered across letters of intrigue. Motives were always concealed, but she knew how to unsheathe them in the end, how to use her skepticism to unfurl lies and deception.

Neve also knew the world was never fair on a good day and outright cruel on a bad one. So she learned never to ask for anything. She lived her life like she was on borrowed time, waiting for the day a job would turn sideways, for the day that the tables would turn. Expect the worst and you can never be disappointed in the end.

The pessimism was consistent; it was the foundation that kept her stable, kept her anchored.

Rook, on the other hand, was an optimist.

He liked to see the good in people, placed his trust in those who perhaps didn't deserve it, and always embraced the hardships of life as possibilities for growth. Some called him naive, Neve included, but he didn't care. Rook was the very essence of the sun. He was bright, warm, inviting. He sought out connections, made others thrive in the rays of his positivity, and his very presence was radiant.

Rook also wore his heart on his sleeve, determined to find the silver linings of life and carried on unwavering. Despite having the Blight inside him, he never allowed those shadows to take root. He didn't let anything dull his light, didn't let anything keep him from aiming for a brighter tomorrow.

Neve really shouldn't have gotten so close, but honestly, who could blame her? Rook was too charming for his own good.

He had snuck his way under her defenses, disarmed her, the warmth of his spirit lingering in the crevices of her heart. Soft and steady, like the sunlight that bathed Dock Town's morning sky. Honestly, it was maddening at first. His silent confidence, his relentless optimism. She both envied and resented it. Those sort of thoughts were trouble and she had no business getting mixed up in it - not with the profession she's in. But he was genuine, kind, the quiet promise of hope radiating from him as if Rook himself was a beacon that drew Neve in. She had allowed herself to follow that light. Allowed herself to believe, for just a moment.

And then the eve of the Eclipse arrived. Her hopes and beliefs shattered. Rook had tried speaking with her that night, speaking of an "after", but Neve stopped him. She couldn't think of an after because that meant the possibility of losing him.

"People say a lot of things. They don't always see it through." Neve had told him.

"I'll always try." Rook replied.

He scared her. She knew in her heart he was trouble but his optimism must have rubbed off on her because she had let herself believe. Let herself ask for something - ask for his safe return. When they arrived in the blighted state of Minrathous, Neve pleaded for him to find a way out, and he told her he would, and she believed him. When the lyrium blade embedded itself into Ghilan'nain's heart, and when Rook went forward to retrieve it, she truly believed him. Maybe there really would be an after.

But then Rook disappeared. And her foundation crumbled.

Neve Gallus was a cynic at heart. She should have known better than to let trouble in.

[warping-realities]

All For The Family - Part 2

“Ryan… Ryan… bro… wake up!”

Brian didn’t wanna wake up; that dream was where he wanted to be. No worries about work, no competition with his brother… brother? What brother…?

“Ryan, brother, get up… NOW!!!” Someone yelled, chucking a pillow at him, waking him up with a start.

Br-Ryan shot up, “WTF? What’s with the pillow, RJ?”

“We’re late for work, you dumbass! Dad’s gonna skin us alive if we take too long. Get your act together!” The muscular guy in front of him said. Ryan still remembered the dream, envying the other guy’s body. Could he ever reach that size? Wait, why would he want to be that big? Something felt off… that dream… and…

“Dude! Get up right now or I’m dragging your skinny ass outta there!”

“Okay, okay, just let me take a shower and brush my teeth!” Ryan replied, getting up and deciding to worry about strange dreams during his downtime. Easier said than done, because as soon as he stepped into the bathroom, a surprise awaited him.

“What The Fuck!” he exclaimed, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The skinny physique he was used to had been replaced by a toned body, like he actually lifted weights, either at the gym or on the job. The physique in front of him was the same as in that dream… had it really been a dream? Maybe it was a memory… but how could he remember something he never lived? Or had he lived it? While he tried to process that info, he was interrupted by RJ, standing in all his muscular glory at the bathroom door. Had he gotten even bigger in the last few minutes? No way, that’d be impossible!

“Bro, you’re playing with fire! I know you’ve made some sick gains since you started working here, but now’s not the time to be admiring yourself!” said the muscle giant, though he sounded more satisfied than scolding. More importantly, that explanation made sense in Ryan's confused mind, causing a smile to spread across his face as golden sparks surrounded him.

“Okay bro, just a minute. I really gotta pee.” He said while sniffing his armpit, finding the smell acceptable; even if it wasn’t, he knew the shower would have to wait. After a long pee, he grabbed his clothes tossed by the bed—a worn-out pair of jeans, a tank top, and work boots—and headed for the kitchen, following the familiar path he had taken for months. The first thing he noticed was the delicious aroma of Mrs. Abernathy’s cooking. Following that scent, he found her chatting with Debra, lunch already well underway. The two didn’t even seem to notice his entrance into the cozy farmhouse kitchen; they were so caught up in their lively conversation. For some reason, Mrs. Abernathy looked more radiant today, as if the weight of a few years had been lifted from her, and even Debra seemed to glow. It must be the joy they were sharing at that moment, Ryan thought.

Not wanting to interrupt, he turned to the table where the two biggest guys he’d ever known were seated, Mr. Abernathy, Roy, and Roy Jr., RJ. They both smiled at him, taking up the whole kitchen with their massive frames.

“Jesus, Ryan. You took your sweet time, son. Sit down and eat a good meal; today’s gonna be busy, so even though we’re late, I don’t wanna risk seeing you hit the floor from lack of fuel!” Roy said, still smiling, but that last part made something click in Ryan’s mind, something about…

“And what about my car?”

“Oh bro, don’t sweat it, we’ll check it out at some point today, either after lunch or later in the afternoon. Now, do what Dad said and stuff your face!” RJ replied. Realizing he was starving, Ryan sat at the table and began piling food onto his plate, way more than he’d ever eaten in his life… or had he? He had the distinct feeling that this was the usual routine every morning since he started working here… so why did it feel so… new? He was trying to wrap his head around that incongruity when a loud burp next to him made him turn to RJ, who was laughing openly.

“Damn, that was a big one! Come on, Ryan, show us what you got!”

“I… I don’t know if… I should!”

“Come on, son, better out than in, and with all you’ve eaten, your stomach must be bubbling.” Roy encouraged as Ryan realized what he was saying was true; he was stuffed, and something was pushing up from his stomach with high pressure until “Burrrrrp.” Ryan let out an even bigger burp than RJ’s. It sent all the guys at the table into fits of laughter, while Mrs. Abernathy shot them a disapproving glance.

“Boys, have some manners at the table!” she said with a serious expression.

“Marisa, leave the boys alone; boys will be boys, right?”

“Then let them be far away from my kitchen!”

“Alright, alright! Time to get to work, boys… and Ryan, I’m really proud of you; you’re showing yourself to be the right kind of man!”

Hearing that made Ryan beam, golden sparks erupting around him once again.

After that, the real work began. Harvesting was tough. The more experienced Roy and RJ took turns driving the combine and the truck that collected the grains, while Ryan helped guide the flow of seeds to make sure they didn’t fall in the wrong spot. Every grain counted, given the family’s tight financial situation. Ryan wondered how they managed without him? Having been there for a year, arriving shortly after the last harvest, he now understood why the family treated him with such care; the work must have gotten a lot easier with him around. After they finished the hearty lunch delivered by Debra in generous portions, without even leaving their vehicles, Roy called for a break. There were only a few acres left to harvest, which could be done the next day. So if the boys wanted, they could work on Ryan’s old Mustang.

As they arrived at the barn, laughing and chatting like the good friends they were, RJ asked Ryan to wait while he grabbed the tools for the car repair. Still chuckling at a story RJ had just told him, Ryan sat down on an old bench. This was the first moment he’d been alone for more than a few seconds since he arrived at the Abernathy home… from where? Didn’t his car have a problem? But his car was currently covered by an old tarp in one corner of the barn and looked like it had been sitting there for months collecting dust. He was sure he had been working for Roy for a year now, but where had he worked before that? The answer that popped into his mind was a bank? But that didn’t make sense; why would he work at a bank? Those were the thoughts racing through the young man’s mind, with light brown hair and well-toned muscles, until he was interrupted by a persistent voice.

“Ry… Ry… RY!!! What’s up, bro? You look like you’re on another planet!”

Ryan looked up to see RJ holding a wrench, his work tank top discarded somewhere along the way, and a worried expression on his face.

“Hey… b-bro… do you remember where I worked before I came here… was it at a bank? I can’t seem to recall what I did after college…”

“Ry… this is a joke, right? Someone like you could never work at a bank! And college? Guys like us don’t do that!”

“Guys like us…?”

“Yeah, man, guys of the land, manual labor, real men. Like me, like you!” RJ replied, smiling.

“You think I’m like you?”

“Of course, you’re exactly like me!”

Hearing that sparked a fire of acceptance in Ry’s chest, which somehow led to another wave of golden sparks surrounding him as a smile spread across his face.

“Now let’s get to work on what you’ve been itching to do, let’s fix your car, bro!”

“Hell yeahh!”

Hours passed as the two worked on Ryan’s red Mustang; there was a lot to do, but luckily they both knew their way around cars. Right after leaving school, Ry had jumped from city to city taking on various jobs, the longest being at a mechanic shop, where he had coincidentally acquired the car they were now trying to fix.

“Man, I’ve always been obsessed with cars. To me, the American Muscle Car is the pinnacle of automotive achievement!” an excited RJ said.

“Dude, I totally agree with you. I needed to have this beauty here. I knew with the right work, it’d be perfect! I don’t get why my brother got so mad at me!” Ry replied, stopping immediately after that comment. Did he have a brother?? Then why couldn’t he remember his face or even his name? He wondered, an expression of anguish creeping his bearded man's face as his defined muscles involuntarily tensed in discomfort.

“Shit…” RJ muttered quietly before quickly recovering. “Your brother? Bro, I’m the closest thing you’ve got to a brother, and I’d never criticize you for buying a badass car like this! It’s like you haven’t learned in all these years we’ve known each other that I’ll support you even in your cra ziest ideas, just like you support me in mine, and buying the Mustang isn’t even close to being as wild as some of the things I’ve done!”

“Years…?”

“Now you’re really worrying me, brother! Dude, we’ve known each other since we were kids! My greatest joy was when you came to work with us right after we graduated. Can you imagine? Working with my best bro!”

“Best bro? I… I’m your best bro?”

“Of course you are, Ty! You and I are best bros for life!”

“Best bros…” Ty repeated, a smile breaking across his face as the biggest wave of golden sparks enveloped him, his strong, toned muscles relaxing as he looked at his lifelong best friend.

“Sorry, man, I’m feeling kinda weird today.”

RJ, sensing that the thinh they are doing was coming to a close, went for the final push while discreetly notifying Roy that their plan was nearing its climax.

“Chill out, man, I know just the thing to help! How about we take a break here and really work out? My muscles are aching for a pump, and even though you’re not a skinny twig anymore, you still have a ways to go to catch up to me.”

“This is definition, bro!”

“No, this is malnourishment, Ty! Let’s head to the back right now.”

The two moved toward the back of the barn, where there was a separate room that, to Ty’s surprise, was basically a fully-equipped old-school gym.

“Wow man, this is sick as hell!”

“Ty, bro! You talk like you don’t live here with me and haven’t used Dad’s gym since we were kids, even though you still seem like a little weakling to me.” RJ said, grinning.

“Shut up, asshole!” Ty shot back, mirroring RJ’s smile. But that quickly faded as he sat down, lost in thought.

“But it’s true, that’s what I’m trying to tell you, man. It feels like something’s off with me. You’ve spent the whole day reminding me of things I already know; I feel fine for a while, and then everything gets muddled again. Am I going crazy?” he questioned RJ who was standing right in front of him, wearing nothing but some extremely short shorts that showcased his massive muscles.

“Ty, bro, you need to stop worrying about that. Now it’s time to work out and try to get close to this!” he said, flexing his powerful chest and arms.

“I… work... out? Yes! But… I… don’t remember… that’s what I’m telling you… there’s something… missing…”

Before RJ could respond, a deep voice interrupted them.

“Can I know what’s going on here?” Asked Roy Abernathy in his work clothes with a serious expression.

“Roy… Mr. Abernathy… I’m sorry… it’s my fault… I wasn’t feeling well, and RJ wanted to cheer me up…”

“I know, son. What I want to know is why you didn’t say anything. You’re like a son to me, TJ. I expected you to see me as a father too!”

“Like a… father?”

“Of course, boy! I’ve watched you play with RJ in these fields since you could fit in the palm of my hand. I’ve followed your football games from Pop Warner all the way to the state championship finals in high school. You’ve brought me as much pride as my own son, boy. Said the bigger man with a smile.

That seemed to trigger the golden sparks once again.

As the trademark smile spread across TJ’s face, knowing how little time they had left before their work was finished, Roy quickly stripped down, donning only some shorts that were just as tight and short as his son’s. His muscular body was less defined but much larger in mass and power.

“Let’s go, kid, take off those pants and show me what you’ve got! Who knows, maybe one day you’ll match this!” he said, flexing his arm and grinning.

“I think that’s pretty unlikely, Roy, but let’s see what I can do!” TJ replied, smiling.

“Start with the warm-up, son! How about some squats?” Roy suggested as the young man positioned himself

“And, TJ?”

“Yes?” TJ answered, starting the exercise.

“My friends call me Roy. My sons call me Dad! Show me who you really are, son!”

That phrase, amidst his concentration on the exercise, ignited a new wave of golden sparks. As TJ squatted down and pushed up, his mind flooded with various memories: childhood days playing with his twin brother, who was just a few minutes older, under their father’s watchful eye. The two brothers, inseparable best friends, taking care of the farm chores together. The football games that had led them to the semifinals of the state championship. The decision to stay on the farm to help their parents with the work. Finally, the gaps in his memory were filled. He finally knew who he was. With one final push upward, Tyler James Abernathy finished his warm-up set, smiling at his father and his brother.

“Warm-up done, old man; how about we move on to something real?”

“Not before you do what I asked; show me what you’re capable of. Flex for me, son!”

“Dad, come on!” TJ replied, a bit exasperated.

“Hey, are you gonna let an old man outdo you?”

Smiling at his dad, who despite being frustrating was still his greatest role model, TJ flexed his massive muscles as a grin spread across his face.

…..

As the sun set that day, the twins walked home, chatting animatedly after making significant progress on the Mustang’s repairs. However, they stopped dead in their tracks when they encountered an unexpected scene that made their cheerfull expressions turn serious.

Their father was standing with his arms crossed, staring at someone whose imposing physique blocked their view. But both knew their dad’s posture well enough, even from behind, to tell he was fuming. That was exactly what the man he was talking was seeing.

“I already told you I haven’t seen the guy you’re looking for, officer!” Roy said, his voice steady but firm.

“I don’t want to doubt your word, Mr. Abernathy; I’m just asking to take a look around your property. The last I heard, my brother was supposed to come here yesterday. Brian is many things I don’t approve of, but irresponsible isn’t one of them,” the man said, stepping into the twins’ line of sight.

“Hey, you two, I’m Officer Lucas Harding. Have either of you seen my brother Brian?”

“Fuck!” exclaimed a startled RJ.

Just as Debra and Marisa Abernathy emerged from the house, and Roy turned to his sons. All eyes were fixed on TJ, who stood frozen in place while the same question ran through the minds of the rest of the family, what had gone wrong? Worse than that: what else could happen?

Continue....

[sturniololuv08]

On The Tenth Day Of Nickmas...

Day 10 of Juno's 12 Days Of Nickmas

"Hey, Nick." Matt came around the corner into the kitchen. Nick just cocked his head up. "I didn't hear Jared leave last night." He said, opening the fridge.

"He didn't," Nick said, suspicious of Matt's statement.

"Oh?" He raised a brow.

"Yeah?" Nick sipped his drink. After their kiss, they went to sleep, but when they woke up entangled in each other's arms, the heat inside Nick's core started growing again. Jared wrapped around him perfectly. Nick watched Jared sleep for a while before slipping out, careful not to wake him, and coming out to the kitchen.

"Any special plans today, then?" Matt was giving Nick a look he couldn't decipher.

"None that I can think of. Whenever he leaves, I will probably just take today as a day of peace and quiet before I have to deal with everything tomorrow." Nick clapped his hands together when he said the words peace and quiet. Matt giggled at his brother's dramatized answer.

"Afternoon." Jared came around the corner stretching. They still had on their matching pajamas.

"Cute." Matt looked back and forth between them.

"It was all Nick," Jared said, starting the coffee pot.

"Interesting." Matt looked at Nick and sipped his Coke can.

"A gift for Christmas," Nick grunted. He knew what Matt was doing. They shared the talk at the lodge, so he knew Matt was trying to meddle. Little did he know they were already walking that fine line.

"Aren't they cute?" Jared was oblivious to what Matt was trying to do. As coffee streamed down into a cup, refilling the air with the burnt bean aroma, Jared held out the hem of his shirt so Matt could see it.

"Very cute," Matt smirked and made eye contact with Nick again. "Do you have any plans today?" he asked Jared.

"Just gotta go home and tidy up. My sister's flight lands tonight." Jared grabbed the creamer out of the fridge.

"You hear that, Matt?" Nick took this as his chance for a little counterattack.

"Yeah. Why is she flying in?" Matt scratched the back of his neck, becoming flustered.

"I had talked to her a few days ago, and she said she didn't like the idea of me spending Christmas alone, so she booked herself a flight."

"You could spend Christmas here." Nick offered up. "You know we wouldn't mind." He reassured.

"I'll talk to her about it. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"Oh, something tells me she won't." Matt glared down Nick for hinting at his fling with Jared's sister. Jared was stirring his coffee, not paying attention to their glances.

"I'm going to go shower." Matt excused himself awkwardly.

"He really likes her doesn't he?" Jared chuckled while blowing on his coffee steam.

"I guess so."

"She'll probably be fine coming over on Christmas, but I do want to just spend time with her tonight if that's okay?" Nick was confused as to why Jared was asking for permission.

"You can do whatever you want. I'm not holding you hostage." Nick wanted to keep the conversation light just in case it became serious.

"Okay." Jared sighed.

"Are you good?" Nick didn't want to outright address anything, but he wanted to make sure what they were doing was okay with Jared.

"Yeah, perfect," Jared blushed. Nick didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound cheesy, so he just smiled back. They finished their late wake-up, and Jared left to run his errands. Nick was cleaning up the kitchen that had been neglected over the holidays when Chris and Matt cornered him.

"We need to talk to you." Nick turned around and grabbed a dish towel to pat dry his hands.

"Okay?" He stared at them with a side-eye.

"We know you like Jared." Matt blurted out.

"I don't like Jared." Nick immediately started blushing.

"You are literally blushing Nick." Chris pointed at his brother's cheeks.

"It's just hot. I was cleaning." Chris folded his arms, and Matt sat down at the kitchen table.

"I saw the car video." Nick hated that it was one of his favourite moments, and Jared was used against his denial.

"It was just a silly video." He rolled his eyes.

"Nick..." Chris groaned. "Just say it. Say you like him!" Chris was being a lot.

"He is my best friend, that's all." Nick felt the words burning his tongue as he lied.

"Nick, it's okay to like him." Matt was trying the comforting approach.

"But I don't." Nick scoffed.

"Nick, just listen to us." Chris held his folded arms.

"What?" He was now irritated. He was already struggling internally about his feelings, and now being forced to confront them when he wasn't ready was annoying and awkward with his brothers.

"We like him. He is good for you. You get along well—" Matt started easily.

"And somehow he puts up with your attitude. We think you should stop this denial shit and go for it." Chris was the bad cop. Nick looked between them, realizing he was being ganged up. He sighed. "Yes! He admits it!" Chris triumphed.

"I'll figure it out. I don't want to talk about it. And if you ever do this good cop bad cop shit again, I'll actually commit murder." Nick pushed past Chris to go up to his room. He flopped on the bed even more stressed about Jared. Now, he had to worry about Chris or Matt saying something stupid; more so Chris than Matt.

Nick smelled him lingering on his bed. It was nice. He laid right in the spot Jared was in last night. He pulled out his phone and opened up the notorious car video. He couldn't resist watching it every chance he got. It wasn't anything special other than the look in Jared's eyes as he looked at Nick's lips. Nick ached for that look. He loved the idea of anyone wanting him like that. Nick started to feel a tingling sensation work its way down his waist. He didn't want to be that weirdo that jacked off to a video of his best friend. "Were we only best friends now?" He thought to himself. He watched the video again and felt the tingling sensation flow down like a wave again.

"Fuck it," Nick whispered to himself. He was upstairs in his room, away from Chris and Matt, so he knew they wouldn't know. He let the video play on a loop and started reminiscing about them changing in the small bathroom for the Space Camp shoot. He wasted no time to slip his hand under his waistband. He was already fully hard to the touch. He hissed quietly as his cold hand grabbed his girth. Immediately, he started pumping up and down hard. He didn't want to take it slow, not now, and not for their first time. Should that ever happen. He fabricated images of Jared's green eyes, glancing up doe-eyed at him as he pushed his way past his lips. "Fuck." He whispered. He made an O shape with his thumb and pointer finger, trying to mimic the sensation he assumed Jared's lips would provide. He needed something more. He rolled over to be on his knees, pumping himself down towards the bed. He nuzzled his face into the pillow Jared had used last night, huffing in his scent. "Mhhhmm." He groaned. He felt a little ridiculous in his new position, but with his new posture, he was able to rock his hips into his own fingers. He started to feel sweat, making his hair matte to his forehead. "Fuck." His whisper was muffled by the pillow. He was close. Closer than he thought he'd be, but something about thinking about his best friend sucking him off was pushing him to his limit faster than anything else had.

He wanted to see Jared when he busted, so he shuffled around, not once, dropping his tight rhythm gripping his throbbing dick. He pulled up a photo of Jared on his phone, and he felt a familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. The warm body temperature fluid leaked all over his hand. "Mhhhmm... Jared." He moaned out as his cum dripped through his fingers. He tugged on himself a little tighter to make sure every drop of release came out of him. He collapsed on his back, careful to avoid the wet stain on his bed sheets. He looked at his phone and smiled at Jared's face. "Fuck." He whispered, realizing how down bad he indeed was for his best friend.

Taglist: @trevorsgodmother @strnilolover @chrissbug333 @kirby0strombolli @abbilmao @ksturnz @marrykisskilled @thenickgirl (IDK why i was even worried about this chapter.... i actually know i delivered ON ACCIDENT)

Dividers: @issysh3ll (dont think i tagged the last few Nickmas' so I didn't annoy her BUT I'm only using this divider for this themed post so all her every chapter)

[mercurygray]

Every Berry On The Branch

Decided we all needed a tiny bit of holiday fun. And I even got it done before the holiday! Merry Christmas, one and all.

She'd forgotten that boys would be boys.

Marion was standing well out of the way of the Christmas party currently getting underway in the Aero Club, hanging in the back of the room only for the off chance that someone (army or civilian) might need an adult. She thought the chances slim - Freda Torvaldsen and Mary Boyle were both extremely capable when it came to children, but still - there was always a chance.

Someone had asked to do something for the locals, and this was the result - an afternoon of wild luxury for the children, after four years of rationing and rather threadbare Christmases. There would be games to play and prizes to win, and after all of that an opportunity to sit on Santa's lap and tell him, in whisper or in shout, what it was they wanted for Christmas. Their mothers were arrayed around the edges of the room, sipping on soft punch and admiring the state of the Aero Club's drapes, and their older sisters ere murmuring amongst themselves about what they would wear to the dance later - and which of the airmen they'd try to dance with while they did it.

She was glad they had found a way to make it work. Having the children here was good for the boys - to be reminded that there was still goodness in the world- still laughter. It had been a hard two months, since Munster - harder than most. So here she was, at the back of the Aero Club, leaning in the doorway - and suddenly behind her someone was clearing his throat like he needed something.

"Yes, Blakely?"

The tall airman pointed up at the door frame, an expectant smile on his face. "A kiss for luck, Captain? It is Christmas."

Marion glanced up and saw where she was standing - underneath a sprig of mistletoe that some enterprising soul had tacked up to the doorframe. Boys. "Oh, very well. Just one - and mind you're careful with it, Captain," she added, wisely. "I wouldn't like to write to Mrs. Blakely that you're misbehaving."

"Never, ma'am." Blakely's lips barely brushed her cheek - a kiss for mothers and maiden aunts that nonetheless made her feel in some small way admired. "Merry Christmas." His eye caught sight of someone else behind Marion and he quickly drew back to a safe distance. "Major Bowman."

"If you're going to ask me the same question, Blakely, I'm going to remind you to think again," Bowman said strongly, glaring with little hidden impatience at the younger officer. Blakely, suitably chastened, made a quick exit back to Tatty and the rest, who were in the middle of a very loud game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey.

"Damn fools," Red growled, glancing up at the greenery in the door above him as though he fully expected it to catch on fire. "Someone hung some in the office earlier this week and I had to give a lecture to everyone on how they weren't off the clock until four today. You'd better move or there'll be more of that all night."

"They're young, Red. They're allowed some fun." After where they've been, and what they've lost, they're allowed to remember what they still have.

That was the thing about Christmas, wasn't it - the grief inside with the joy? There would be no empty chairs as such at the party table this evening, but there were empty spaces all the same. Marion had heard a wild whoop in the corner earlier and turned half-expecting to see Major Egan taking part in some game with a bunch of children half his size - but Bucky Egan was not here, and doubtless not playing any Christmas pranks where he was at present. (It was a small mercy - but a prisoner of war was better news than a pine box.) There were too many names and too many faces that Marion would have liked to see, and couldn't - and too many letters home to too many parents informing them that their Christmas parcels would be returned unopened, that their sons would not be home, this Christmas or any other.

Bowman scowled, but said nothing. "So what part did they give you to play in this nonsense?"

"None whatsoever," Marion reported with a smile. "Mary and Fred have the whole thing well in hand, and Anita and Mae have instructions to help pass out the presents from Santa. I think I'm only meant to be the referee in case anyone needs me."

"Yes, where is Santa?" Bowman asked, looking around for the man in question. "Half-expected him to be here already, the way he's been going on."

"I think he's been given instructions to hang back until the games are over," Marion said. "I also have it on good authority Ken's being given out as his chief elf and flight engineer, so if you see him, I'm sure the man himself isn't far behind."

"His flight engineer," Bowman repeated incredulously. "Someone spent too much time on this."

"I'm sure someone needs to keep that sleigh in working order," she said fairly. "And Ken volunteered." This piece of information did not seem to help Red's opinion on the matter, and Marion decided to put it to him another way. "They needed something to look forward to, Red." And if that means that Ken Lemmons puts on a little vest and hat and pretends for a crowd of children that he fixes Santa's sleigh, then we just have to give that to him.

And if that means your commanding officer wants to dress up and put on a fake beard to make children smile, you'll give him that too.

Bowman could see he was winning no battles with this, and turned to leave. "Will we see you later?" Marion asked, trying to see if she might make lemonade out of Bowman's lemons. "There could be a dance in it for you, if you like." You're entitled to a little rest, too, you know, Red.

She wasn't sure if that would be punishing or enticing, but he did at least pause and give the idea a moment. "We'll see," he said, and she let it be.

The game was winding down - all the tails had been pinned, and Marion could just see Ken's face at the doors to the Aero club, peeking in the windows to see if the coast was clear. Over the heads of the children Mary gave him a nod, and Ken eased the door open so the guest of honor could arrive, a huge burlap sack over one shoulder and his hat only just covering hair that wasn't even close to turning gray, let alone white.

"Ho ho ho! Who's been good this year?"

Harding's Santa costume was not going to win any prizes for the picturesque. Short on red fabric, Mary Boyle had been unable to make him the usual and customary red coat, so they'd settled instead for the traditional hat, a red sweater with a pillow stuffed in for effect, and Neil's A2 jacket, the name tape carefully removed and "S. Claus" artfully burnished into a new piece of leather. Mary and Fred had slaved over a fake beard, which looked almost realistic when it sat properly on his face, and the man inside all of this was having far too much fun sitting down on his throne, setting down his sack, and waiting for the electric throng of youngsters to settle a little so they might see what sort of gifts he had brought.

The presents weren't much - a whole crew of volunteers had spent their free hours wrapping a pile of oranges and chocolates into little bundles, fragrant with the memories of Christmases gone by. (Marion had watched Fred counting oranges against a guest list, making sure they had some spare for the parents as well as the children.)

"Doing all right there, Fred?" Marion asked, as the blonde woman dashed across the room to get something out of the kitchen.

"Just fine, Captain Brennan, thanks," the Red Cross girl announced with a breathless smile. "He's really hamming it up," she said, looking back at Harding with little-hidden amusement.

"He's been very excited this week," Marion confirmed. "This is good for them, I think - and for him." She paused and asked a question she was quite sure she already knew the answer to. "Do you get a little break, between this and the dance tonight? All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl."

"I don't mind it," Fred said with a shrug. "Gives everyone else a chance to have some fun."

Yes, but you're entitled to a little fun yourself. And I think I know why you're going without it, too, Marion thought to herself. "Have you heard at all from…Captain Brady?"

She knew it was, perhaps, a dangerous question. Red Cross girls weren't supposed to have favorites, but anyone with eyes could have seen that John Brady was sweet on the clubmobiler - and that Fred was sweet back. The camp band wasn't quite the same without one of their star clarinetists, and it would probably take a great deal to get his favorite duet partner back on stage to perform without him. Fred nodded, her smile a little bit more fixed on now. "Had a postcard. He's cold, and hungry, mainly. Doesn't look like they'll have much of a Christmas. But he's alive," she said, almost reminding herself of the fact. "And that's all the gift I want."

"It's good you're writing to him," Marion assured the younger woman. "They need that - especially at Christmas." Fred nodded in agreement in a way that seemed to consider the matter closed, and Marion let her have her silence. "I think Mary said you'll send him back this way, when he's done?" she asked, changing the subject. "Happy to watch the door for you when he does."

"Thanks, Captain, that'd be great," Fred said, clearly moving forward. "And…thanks," she added with a pause, looking the older woman square in the eye, only a little guilty. Marion gave her a smile and let her go back the way she had come, watching as Fred paused for a moment to take a breath and fix her face back on as she went to help wrap up the rest of the line to see Santa and get him on his way. "Now, come on you all, Santa's very busy, and I heard Ken say he's finished fixing the sleigh. If we don't let him leave now Lieutenant Callaway can't hold the flight pattern any longer!"

Santa gathered up his sack and gave a few more ho-ho-hos, and trampled off through the club in Marion's general direction, letting her hold the door open for him while the children made noises of disappointment and their mothers started looking for their coats.

"Well, that went well, I think," Neil announced, pulling his beard down once the door was closed and grinning as he pulled the pillow out from under his sweater. "Hotter than blazes under that beard, though. I thought I was going to sweat it off my ears."

"You did very well," Marion reported with a smile. "I don't know who was having more fun, them or you."

"I think I missed someone, though. What does Captain Brennan want for Christmas?" Neil asked, gathering her up into his arms in a way. "I hear she's been a very good girl this year."

Marion held back a disapproving smile. "Nothing at all," she said, though she made no attempt to move out of his arms.

"Nothing?" Neil was still grinning, his hands very possessive over her waist. "Box of chocolates? New nightgown? Not a single thing from Santa?" She shook her head, still smiling. "How about a kiss, then?" He asked, pulling a spray of mistletoe out of the pocket of his coat.

"Don't tell me it was you who put that up in the office," Marion said, finally putting two and two together. "Red already gave the staff the riot act."

"Well, someone's got to have a little fun around here," Neil announced, taking a few steps back towards the office desk and sitting down on its edge, spreading his legs a little so she might stand between them. "Now, how long do we have until that dance starts? It's a kiss for every berry on the branch," he purred in her ear, "And I wasn't going to let Ev Blakely be the only one telling you you're worth asking for a kiss."

[onboardsorasora]

Day 11: 🧣 Ugly Sweaters

not exactly a winter warmer but I couldn't resist (also please ignore that it isn't day 11 and that I might have already written something for the naughty side of that day) for @chaosinstigator, Merry Christmas <3333

Part 1 | Part 18 | Part 19

“3! 2! 1! Daniel!” Max called out in a singsong voice. He looked around the quiet living room trying to listen for the small giggles that would tell him where Little Daniel was hiding. 

He didn't immediately spot him; not behind the curtains or hiding under the coffee and dining tables. Max grinned, imagining Little Daniel thinking hard about winning their game of hide and seek.

He ventured down the hallway to his bedroom and looked in the closet and under the bed. No sign of a wiggling giggling body. He ventured into the bathroom “Daniel I found you!” 

Nothing. Not even a squeak. 

Max frowned and went into the guest room, Little Daniel's room. The light from the hallway told him that the closet door was open. Max grinned.

“Daaniiellll..” he called before flicking on the lights, blanketing the small closet in bright light. Max stopped up short at seeing Little Daniel sitting on the floor. He hadn't even acknowledged Max, so engrossed he was in what he found.

“Daniel whatchya got there?” Max asked. Little Daniel jumped and spun to look at him. Brown eyes glittered.

“Maxy! I hide so good!” Little Daniel called, clearly proud of himself. 

“You did! You're so good at hide and seek!” Max stopped and fluffed Little Daniel's curls. The little boy leaned into Max's touch, letting whatever that was on his lap be seen. It seemed to be a blanket or a sweater.

“What's this?” Max asked again, redirecting Little Daniel's attention. 

“Maxshy it's you!” Little Daniel crowed and lifted the fabric that turned out to be his secret Santa gift from last year. An ugly knitted sweater with his face on it. Sorta. 

It was a sweater with one of his derpy meme faces knitted onto it. It was a silly gag gift that Max had promptly put in a box and forgot about. Until, much like the sequin pillow, Little Daniel found it. And based on the glee in his smile, Little Daniel loved it.

“It is me!” Max laughed. Little Daniel shimmied the sweater on, giggling while he poked his head out and the tried to find the arm holes. Max rolled his eyes playfully and reached for him.

“C’mere you.” Max tugged Little Daniel closer and poked and tickled him under the pretense of searching for Little Daniel's arms. Little Daniel's giggles became full blown honking laughter in a higher pitch and Max ached at the familiarity. 

He finally helped Little Daniel into the sweater and watched as he petted Max's knitted face on his belly. The sweater, understandably fit him like a dress but Little Daniel didn't seem to mind. He ran out of the closet, squeezing past Max as if he was avoiding tickling fingers and giggled all the way to the hallway mirror.

“Maxshy I look like you!” Little Daniel called. Max followed him out sedately. He wondered how Little Daniel would react to Christmas celebrations. He knew Daniel loved Christmas, loved decorating for it and planning the gifts he would get for everyone. Max didn't doubt that Little Daniel would be just as excited, if not more.

He hoped he wouldn't be able to find out how Little Daniel would react to the holiday that was so far away. He hoped and prayed that Daniel would be back to him way before then. 

Until then, he didn't think it was so bad seeing Little Daniel play with old decorations.

Max stopped in the hallway with a snort and a grin. Little Daniel had found Max's helmet again and was grinning at him through the visor. Little Daniel danced from one leg to the other, snickering at himself and Max considered digging a bow from the box of Christmas decorations and putting it on top of his helmet.

[hhoneylemon]

𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎

summary: three wintertime scenarios with wally

genre: fluff

word count: 1.3k

A/N: this was a little rushed, was trying to pump something out for him. not proofread

you hate winter, you decide.

the snow had soaked through your shoes, even reaching your socks. now your feet are wet, as well as freezing. your teeth chatter as you grumble to yourself, climbing the steps to a familiar home.

you ring the doorbell, though the door is flung open within seconds. barry stands there, a friendly smile etched onto his face.

“hey, kid. good to see you, c’mon in. wally’s with iris, let me get them.”

you step inside, nodding thankfully. you shed your jacket, hanging it on the hook. you walk into the living room, letting out an appreciative whoosh of air. the fireplace is going, keeping you warm.

as you plop onto the couch, you feel a sudden presence beside you. wally had sped to your side on the couch, immediately hugging you and kissing your cheek.

“hi babe! sorry i didn’t answer the door, i was helping aunt iris set the table. my folks said they’d be a little late, sorry.”

he speaks fast, though you’re fairly used to that by now. you nod when he finishes, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“it’s alright, happy to see you.”

you give him a smile, though it falls quickly. you’re suddenly alarmed, eyes searching his face. he gives you a confused look.

“is there something on my face?”

he tubs a hand over his chin and then cheeks before you shake your head.

“no. wally, where are your freckles?”

the red head makes an ‘o’ with his mouth before laughing softly. he takes your hand.

“the cold makes them go away. they’ll be back when it’s warmer.”

you scowl, leaning in to kiss his left cheek. you had known the exact count of freckles on his face. you’ll have to recount when they come back. what if he gains some? loses some? you then squeeze his hand.

“what’s iris making for dinner?”

his face lights up as he begins talking about just how much she was making; it had to be a lot to accommodate for two speedsters, though you zone out. this revelation almost upsets you.

you love wally’s freckles. you kiss them and count them all the time, they make him just that much cuter. you think you’ll punch as payback. actually, if you told wally how disappointed you were, he’d probably punch the snow for you. the thought makes you smile.

wally mistakes the smile for what he’s talking about, causing him to smile in turn. he presses a kiss to your cheek, pulling your attention back to him as he continues speaking. now you’re excited to just relax with your boyfriend and his aunt and uncle. they had to be your favorite people in the world.

wally’s face is pressed against your chest, his eyes focused on the tv. he’d insisted you watched home alone; this was the third time this month.

your hand cards through his hair, soft and easy to mess with. you adored how he looked when his pretty red locks stuck out in different directions. he huffs a small laugh at something on screen, causing you to glance towards the tv, though it doesn’t hold your attention for long.

your eyes flit back to him, and you sigh softly to yourself. this feels so domestic, a far cry from your regular activities. he’s not running around saving people, you’re off work, there’s no classes to attend. it’s so peaceful.

you press a kiss to the top of his head, causing him to shift his attention up to you. he offers a small smile.

“you okay?”

“yeah, just love you.”

he almost coos, pressing a kiss to your chest. he squeezes your chest in his embrace and you smile back at him.

“love you too.”

the movie progresses and you find yourself feeling warm and cozy. curse wally and his ability to make you feel safe. your fingers tangle in his hair as your other hand stops rubbing circles into his back.

his lack of movement tells you that he doesn’t notice. you glance at his face and you can’t hold back the smile that breaks across your face.

wally looks peaceful, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. small, deep breaths escape the red head. you kiss the top of his head, whispering sweet nothings into his hair.

well, okay. maybe you tolerate winter.

a laugh escapes your throat as you walk into the kitchen. you’re just gotten home from the store, setting the last minute gifts on the floor.

wally stands in the middle of the kitchen, hands covered in dough and nose covered in flour. he holds up a finger, telling you to be patient.

“i pulled out your recipe book, the one in the cabinet. i’m making christmas cookies.”

you walk closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. he gives you a wide grin, placing his forehead against yours. he keeps his arms spread away from you so that he doesn’t ruin your clothes.

“why are you wearing the cookies?”

“cause they’re so good, babe. just you wait until i finish them.”

you huff out another laugh, shaking your head. you give him a small kiss, one he melts into. you then leave to put the new gifts in your shared room, appearing again in more comfortable clothing to help your boyfriend. you don’t have complete trust regarding him alone in the kitchen.

you realize you have to redo the dough as he added too much brown sugar and vanilla, causing him to laugh nervously. he makes sure to let you take the lead, standing to the side with a happy smile.

when you place the cookie pan into the oven and set the timer, he has a mug of hot cocoa ready for you. he wraps you in a big hug, resting his chin on top of your head.

“you saved the day, like always. what would i do without you?”

you hug back, sighing. something tells you there would be a million repeats of this exact moment over the years.

“crash and burn.”

you pull back enough to give him a soft kiss. his hands slowly smooth down your back and land on your waist. he pulls away and smiles, gently squeezing your waist. 

“we can eat the cookies while watching home alone tonight.”

“wally, we are not watching it five times this year.”

“babe, please! it’s so good!”

you roll your eyes, pulling away from to grab your hot cocoa. he chases you, arm wrapping around your waist as he grabs his own mug. 

“c’mon, don’t you love me.”

“i love you so much that i’m sparing you from the maiming you’ll get if you make me watch it one more time.”

he whines, dropping his forehead to yours. he gives puppy eyes.

“what about home alone 2, then? or elf?”

you sigh, cupping his cheek and giving him a soft kiss. he leans in, happily kissing back and pulling you closer to him. you break apart as you remember you’re both holding drinks, scared of spilling them.

“how about rudolph? it’s a classic.”

he purses his lips, watching you for a moment. he can see how you have affection dancing in your eyes, and lips he would love to kiss for the rest of his life. he hums in agreement.

“sounds good. and we can wear the matching pajamas that dick bought us-“

you shrivel your nose, practically gagging at the thought. dick had thought it was funny to buy the ugliest matching christmas pajamas as a gag gift, and of course wally actually liked them. the sweet little look in wally’s eyes make you sigh as you finally shake your head.

“fine, yeah, okay.”

wally smiles. you think you’re lucky to be able to see the sight so often. he’s infectious, causing a small smile to spread over your own face. he then steals your lips with his own, releasing them just as quickly.

“oh, i love you so much. christmas is definitely the best holiday.”

and you hum in agreement, just to see his smile widen and his eyes brighten. you can feel your own dancing with affection as a small sigh escapes your lips.

yeah, okay, you love the winter.