#looking back on it now a lot of them were fairly creepy

[ghost-bxrd]

I’ve been getting really into magical stuff recently and also DC so I’m just gonna drop this here:

Fae Dick Grayson

F A E

okay so fae stories are special to me because I grew up on hearing pagan folklore and fairytales about fae and fae adjacent creatures as good night stories so hooo boy yes I adore that trope! (I mean, I made Dick a Banshee in my fic Shuck so… hehe)

Anyway, Fae Dick Grayson! There’s just so many things you can do with it ✨

Robin appears from one day to the next, following in Batman’s shadow like a mischievous sprite, so honestly rumors have been going wild about him since day one. Robin actually being something non-human doesn’t really come as a surprise!

The fae folk are known for being awfully good at blending in with regular humans when they put their mind to it, the only thing that puts them apart (in most stories) is their otherworldly beauty, and Dick Grayson? Well, he’s definitely got that in abundance.

Just sometimes, when the light reflects off a surface in just the right way, when someone pours a glass of water and you happen to look right through the spray, or when you think you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye and you spin around— but there’s only Dick Grayson, even if a second ago you could have sworn you saw eyes where there weren’t supposed to be any; colors that aren’t supposed to exist; feathers where only skin has any right to be.

And, gods, all the talking. Dick is terrifyingly good at talking to people without actually saying anything, to the point where you walk away from the conversation feeling utterly drained after spilling your entire life story but when you think back on it— you can’t remember him ever telling you anything about himself. You know there were the usual pleasantries of “hi” and “nice to meet you” and “how are you doing?” but anything beyond that just kinda… seemed to spill out of you? It’s very strange. It’s very unnerving. By the end of the evening you other convince yourself you’re overreacting or you simply push the incident out of your mind altogether.

And there’s another thing about Dick. His name.

He only ever introduces himself as Dick Grayson/Robin. Never Richard. Never. Especially not Richard John. Names are sacred for the fae folk, names have power, so while Richard John Grayson may not be Dick’s true name, he treats it as such to honor his parents. None are allowed to use it. None except Bruce or Alfred on special occasion.

Of course, Dick’s “true” name isn’t exactly a secret so when someone does happen to use it… well, Dick may be… other… but he’s still intrinsically good in a way many of his kind don’t have the patience to be. Dick judges on a case by case basis, just like his parents and Bruce taught him. And usually people do not mean it maliciously when they use his name so he kindly corrects them and that’s that. But oh man, if they still insist on calling him “Richard”? Well..

“Oh no, it seems your credit card is being declined, sir!”

“Sheesh, you tripped over a root? In Gotham?!”

“What do you mean ten birds flew into your window last night? You live on floor level!”

“Dude I’m telling you that rash doesn’t look normal.”

“I… don’t think crows are supposed to follow you like that.”

It’s little things (most of the time, unless you really pissed Dick off) but they keep piling up, slowly driving you insane. You feel like you’re being watched, but it’s just a bird sitting on the window sill again. You feel like someone moved all your furniture just slightly to the right even tho you checked all the cameras.

The fae are kind, but they are also vindictive when crossed.

(Thanks to Bruce, however, I think Dick’s bouts of “vengeance” rarely go much farther than that though.)

Dang ok that ended up being an entire rant… wow. Anyway, yeah. Fae.

[reidbae]

DAY 10: More — stripping w/dom!spencer reid

KINKTOBER 2023: masterlist

summary: You work as a stripper for a living, and one of your regulars always comes back for more.

pairing: dom!spencer reid x sub!stripper!reader

warnings/mentions: small age gap (spencer is 34, reader is 26), lap dance, semi-public but also not rlly, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, degradation, praise, use of pet names (baby, doll, honey, sweetheart), some hair pulling, kinda rough blowjob

wc: 2.1k

a/n: hey, y'all! just posting day 10 bc i was too tired to write yesterday :,) hopefully will put day 11 up later! not too thrilled with how this came out but >:( enjoy anyways <3

tags: @nalycandy @prettyboydrspencerreid @mega-kittyglitter-1

You were in front of one of the many private rooms of the strip club that you worked at, welcoming one of your regulars into the room.

You had worked as a stripper for about a year now. It was late, and you felt a little worn out from all of the dances you had given thus far today. Not to mention, all the creepy men that you had to deal with on a daily basis in this job.

You were in a black crop top and a short pink skirt, lace nylons hugging your legs. You were in black heels, too, and your messy hair showed for how tired you truly were.

You were ready for a break, even if that break came in the form of giving one more dance. 34-year-old Spencer Reid, a gorgeous brunette profiler who was 8 years older than you, was a regular that you had been seeing for some time.

And by "seeing," you weren't just giving him lap dances whenever he came in.

These dances were always sexual. That was the point of the job, after all. But the first time you had danced for Spencer, the first time you'd met him, you weren't quite sure what took over you.

Like you'd seen your fair share of creeps in this job, you'd also seen a lot of attractive men, too.

But not all of them had bent you over, called you filthy names, and left you in the private room, cunt filled with their cum the first time you met them.

Ever since that day, neither you nor Spencer could get enough of each other. You both knew that no matter what happened, you were always going to come back for more.

"Hey, beautiful," Spencer smirked down at you as he pressed his lips to yours, running his hands over your ass. The taller man dipped his head down, pressing a few kisses to your neck as well.

"Hey." you giggled, your face quickly heating up from the attention. "Not where everyone can see."

After all, you were still out in front of the room, and club goers weren't even supposed to be touching you, let alone kissing your neck.

"Isn't that what you do on a daily basis?" Spencer asked you in a teasing voice, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

You playfully shoved his arm, shaking your head at what he had said. "You know what I mean," you told him, a small pout over your face.

Spencer laughed a bit but backed down, kissing the tip of your nose before letting your face go. "Don't give me that look, baby. You're too cute to scrunch your face up like that."

All you did was roll your eyes, not being able to hold back your smile as you led him into the room. You made sure the curtains were closed so no one could see the two of you, and once you did, you turned to him.

Spencer sat down in the armchair in the room, his hands on his thighs as he manspread in front of you. It was a little embarrassing how wet the view quickly made you.

And you hadn't even done anything yet.

"Long day?" you began simply, taking a seat on his lap. Spencer moved a hand to your waist, running slow circles over it.

While Spencer did visit you when he wasn't stressed, his job was usually the reason he'd seek some release from you every so often. So, it was fairly routine at this point.

"Something like that," Spencer said with a shrug, looking up at you from where he sat in the armchair.

"Mmhm," you hummed, raking one of your hands through his curls. "Well, don't worry, then. I can help you release some stress," you smirked at him.

Spencer mirrored your sly smile, nodding up at you as he pressed his lips to your neck. "Please do, doll."

You got up from where you sat, Spencer's hand never leaving your waist. You began to slowly dance to the music that was playing in the club, moving your hips in tune with the beat.

Both of Spencer's hands were on your hips now as he let out a breathy moan. He was looking at you as if mesmerized by the view, not turning his eyes away for even a second.

After a while (A very short while), Spencer suddenly pulled your body closer, so that you were in between his legs now. You moaned as he ran his hands all over you, touching you wherever he could.

He turned you around to face him, hands dancing at the hem of your skirt as he looked up at you. "This is cute," he murmured. "But I think I'm going to need more than a lap dance, doll."

"Wh- What do you want me to do?" you asked a little too quickly, readily eager to oblige whatever it was Spencer needed from you.

"Let's start with getting this off," Spencer hummed as he yanked you inwards by the hem of your skirt. You let out a little noise and nodded, to which Spencer then yanked the fabric down, face reddening at the view he was met with. He smiled.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Spencer let out in a groan, squeezing his hands down on your hips. You could see the hard-on that had formed in Spencer's slacks, and you had to rub your thighs together at the view, causing Spencer to chuckle.

"H- How do you want me?" you asked in a shy voice, your face filled with just as much heat as his was.

"On your knees, sweetheart," Spencer said, trailing a hand down to unbuckle his belt. You complied as fast as he had asked, sinking down to your knees in front of him and putting your hands on his thighs.

It felt like way too long before he'd moved his belt aside, pulling his slacks down to let his cock spring free from his boxers. Your mouth watered at the view, taking in his large size like you had so many times before.

You didn't need to say a word as you eagerly reached your hand out, pumping him up and down slowly. Spencer's head rocked backwards at the move, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you.

"Mmm, just like that, honey," Spencer cooed in a gentle tone. He cupped your chin with his thumb, forcing you to look up at him as your mouth parted open. "Let's see how much better you look with your mouth wrapped around me."

That was all the permission you needed.

Music blared around the two of you as you spit onto the tip of his cock, cat licking it for a bit before taking him into your mouth. Spencer's hands went into your hair, guiding you as you bobbed your head up and down.

"Fuck, honey," Spencer groaned as he closed his eyes, his brown hair messed beautifully over his forehead. "Fuck, you feel so good."

You used your hand to pump the part of his cock that your mouth wasn't reaching, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you blew him. Spencer's grip was firm in your hair, holding you down with a rough force.

"Keep going," Spencer moaned out in a hoarse tone, voice laced with the pleasure you were giving him.

You moved your hand away from his dick and pushed your head further down, taking in his full length, a thing you hadn't managed to do before. You could tell Spencer was thankful for it, though, because he let out a low mewl, forcing your head down even more.

"Taking all of me now, huh?" he tried to tease you, but his broken tone of voice was making it hard to do so. "Such a good, fuck—Good fucking girl. Takin' me so well."

"You like this, honey?" Spencer moaned out after a while, opening his eyes again to meet yours. "You like me using your mouth like this?" he asked.

You did what you could to nod, although it was hard to differentiate between that and your sucking as you kept going. Spencer petted the top of your head in response, smiling down at you.

Spencer's noises and words of praise were becoming too much for you to handle. You could feel the bundle of nerves in the middle of your legs begging for some attention due to all that you were hearing.

You moved one of your hands down and pulled down the fabric of your panties with a dire need. It was seconds before one of your fingers found your clit, rubbing yourself in quick circles.

Spencer noticed this as soon as you had done it. How could he not, really? You were moaning around his dick like a woman dried out, and, now, that wasn't only because your mouth was full of him.

Spencer let out a low grunt as he looked down at you from the armchair, a sly smirk across his face. "Oh, look at you," Spencer teased you with a smile, moaning your name out. "Such a slut, aren't you? Just my fucking slut," he moaned.

You felt yourself gag around Spencer's cock as he pushed you down, coughing a little bit at the feeling. Then, as quickly as he had done so, he pulled you off of him.

"Tell me what you are, doll. Wanna hear you say it," Spencer said to you in a rough tone of voice.

You swallowed, your lips covered in your own saliva as you answered him. "I'm your slut, Spencer. I- I'm yours," you moaned out, looking up at him like he was your lifeline.

And, in a way, he was.

"Again. Say my name," Spencer commanded, pulling your hair as to move you closer to him. You let out a small whimper, your face heating up in a blush.

"I'm—Yours, Spencer. I'm your slut, your whore, fuck, whatever you want me to be. Just as long as I'm yours," you said in a needy tone. Spencer smirked down at you, giving you a look of approval.

"That's what I like to hear," he smiled, before bringing your head back downwards, a signal for you to carry on with blowing him. You did so eagerly, falling into the same pace that you'd been going at before.

Spencer's moans fell out of his mouth like honey as he rocked his head backwards, a rosy blush glued to his face. Your hand resumed on with rubbing your clit, whiny whimpers being muffled by Spencer's cock.

Spencer's climax came quicker than usual, likely because of the fact that you were suddenly able to take all of his dick. "Fuck, doll. I'm gonna—Fuck," were all the words he could get out.

Ropes of Spencer's cum gushed into your mouth as you moved your head quicker, wanting to help him ride out his high the best you could. You swallowed all of him easily, making sure not to leave even a little bit behind.

When you pulled back, your mouth was slick with saliva and cum as your breath came in ragged heaves. Spencer came back down to earth seconds later, and his face was one of pure bliss as he looked down at you.

Spencer pulled you back into his lap so that your legs were on either side of his thighs, and, without warning, pushed two fingers inside of you. You moaned at the sudden ingress, but weren't, by any means, opposed to it. It was clear he had seen you rubbing yourself earlier, and he was eager to finish what you started.

You didn't need too many words as you began to bounce yourself up and down on his fingers, eagerly chasing your high. Spencer took note of this and leaned in to press kisses to your neck.

"There you go, sweetheart. Ride it out," he cooed inattentively as he pleasured you. "Such a good girl."

You couldn't blame Spencer for finishing quickly, because you did the very same thing. You moaned his name into his ear as you soaked his fingers with your cum, his lips attached to your neck all the while.

Spencer pulled his fingers out of you as you tried to catch your breath, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean. You let out a noise at the view.

"H- How did I do?" you asked in a shaky voice.

Spencer smiled up at you, pulling you in close by your neck. "How do you think?"

–

reblogs are very much appreciated <3

–

please let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

–

[0asisbliss]

Super slaughter

Warnings: Gore, murder, kidnapping, torture, etc. (Not to reader) This wasn’t present in this current chapter, but later on it will be included in the series. if you’re kinda sensitive to that kind of stuff I don’t request you read this.🤷🏽‍♀️

A/n: I had a lot of fun making this🙃

Parings: Yandere!Choso x Fem!Reader

It’s a massive massacre it’s super slaughter~

You had pretty much good life so far you got into college, and got a job. It’s good pay, and you have free time on the weekends. You didn’t have many friends though, and family lived out the country, so didn’t really talk to anyone much. Even though you had a couple of friends most of them were either busy, or just ignored you when you reached out to them.

You basically had no one if you had really thought about it. That’s until you met him anyway. He was kinda weird looking. Hair in to top ponytails and big black eyes staring back at you. No wonder he was talked about among the girls back at campus. Even though everyone thought he was handsome and good looking. Everyone had one thing in common when saying things about him. He. Was. Weird. Always having his head in a book, or just staring out in space. You might think it’s normal for people to do that. Maybe? But when he does it’s creepy. So when he approached you asking to hang out with him. You hesitate first, but you end up agreeing.

He then asks for your number to make a time and place for you two to go.

Choso’s cheeks flush a bright red thinking of you and him together. When his mind starts to wonder else where he shakes those thoughts out of his head. That’s when he wants to hear your sweet voice again.

You’re sitting on your bed doing absolutely nothing scrolling through instagram instead of doing your assignments that are due tomorrow. You can clearly see his caller id, but do really wanna talk to someone right now? You thought to yourself. Nonetheless you pick up the phone, and once you pick it up Choso’s eyes beam with glee, and happiness.

“Hi…” Choso say directly into the phone to make sure you hear him.

“Hello Choso how are you?”

“I’m doing fine. You smelled good today” Choso said this in a serious tone as if he really wants you to know. Everything seems fine until you realize you didn’t even see him today.

“Oh! Uh Choso I don’t remember seeing you today?”

“Don’t worry love I saw you.” You think about what to say for a moment before responding. You giggle a bit at his nickname for you.

“Well thank you Choso! You’re so sweet.”

She called me sweet I can’t believe she called me sweet!

Choso went quiet for a while not saying anything at all. You just wondered he went to go do something, and he’d be back.

The phone hung up. You thought nothing of it and went back to what you were doing even though the conversation was weird.

The next day once you get on campus you run by the campus cafe to get a quick coffee. Then you catch your friends. You two walk around to pass time before class starts. She goes with you to 1st period math.

Kacey and you have actually been friends since high school. You two eventually grew closer when you two talked about going to the same college together. If you could talk about anything to anyone it would be her. She had such a bright and funny personality when it came to life she was just in general a bubbly person.

When you two entered class you sat down in your seats. You two sat close to the teacher for better hearing since the class was fairly big. As you two got ready for lecture you two would always have small conversations.

“I hear that you’ve found someone!”

“Huh? What? No not really I’m actually not looking for anyone at the moment.” You said bluntly wondering why she would say something like that.

“Aren’t you in a relationship with the cute weirdo Choso?”

“No? Who said that?”

“Choso himself? That’s what he told me.” She shrugs getting her notes out.

“Oh no. We’re not dating, I’m just gonna assume he thought wrong and maybe talk to him about it.” You said in a positive tone.

After a couple hours pass and class is over you rush to find Choso. Hopefully to find him before he tell anyone else the false rumor of you two dating.Hopefully he won’t go crazy about it.

[hirsheyskisses]

Hello!! Your spooky event looks so fun! Do you think I could get 1. "You're shivering. Are you really that scared?" + 6 with Eustass Kid? Thank you so much I look forward to seeing what spooky ideas you come up with!!

Don't be a Coward!

Spooktober (2023) Event 👻🎃

EUSTASS KID x READER

Summary: being foolish, fresh put of your teens, Kidd decided to take things a step up for halloween, going to explore a 'haunted' mall.. (also yes, the pun in this story was intended)

Kidd has ALWAYS loved Halloween. Ever since the two of you had been kids, he'd dress up as either the spookiest or coolest shit (often times both) and always insisted on helping you with your costume.

A lot of Halloween often ended with kidd and killer looking absolutely terrifying, where your costumes were often- badass. Dresses that lit on fire, exploding suits, or real life villain energy

But, where they loved horror.. and creepiness.. You'd rather not! You'd really rather not fuck with ouija boards, or go into haunted malls, or fuck with ghosts..

But kidd.. well, you're dating the man..

"I really don't think this is a good idea." You stated for the umpteenth time, being rewarded with another long sigh from your lover. "You're being a wuss. It's just rumors-"

Kidd grumbled, grabbing your hand and lifting you up to the window he'd just shattered, holding you by your sides. Hesitating for a moment before sliding through, attempting not to step on glass, you turned, "thats not the point! Well.. it's part of the point, but we're breaking an entering! Yaknow, doing the thing that's against the law!"

Watching him land beside you, he snorted. "Since when were you so concerned about the law? You broke a guy's jaw for catcalling."

Kidd began to walk, his eyes eager and- to some extent, childish. "He was following me and had it coming, would you rather I have let him take me?" You shot back, to which Kidd tensed a bit. "Never said it was a bad thing. I'm just sayin', it was still against the law." He muttered, a hand snaking behind your back to pull you at his side. Surprisingly, the mall wasn't too scary: trashed, sure, but with a man who cleared 6' it wasn't- entirely terrifying.

"Well.. that scenario shouldn't be against the law." You responded, and you also knew he agreed: Kid loved any excuse to beat down am asshole. Even if he was bit of one himself, he still held some semblance of respect.

The mall was dark, and as you went further in, the light became less and less, until you were squinting to see and cautiously stepping down to ensure you didn't step on anything. Your redheaded boyfriend, on the other hand, didn't hesitate. Instead, he walked with pure confidence, head swiveling from side to side. "I expected more from a haunted mall. This shots boring." He grumbled, glancing back at you. "Yeah.. I guess." You mumbled, focused less so on him and instead chose to peer into the open stores, finding knocked over shelves and ransacked compartments, slowly moving towards an old book store. Grabbing your phone and flicking on the flashlight, you began to move between the shelves, occasionally grabbing at a abandoned, dusty book. Surprisingly, there was a lot of them remaining: and in fairly good condition, too. A few classics, and a few of your old favorites you'd occasionally come across. You'd been there for a few minutes..

"Hey! Kidd! Look at this o-"

You finally lifted your head as you found an old book on mechanic work he'd wanted, only to realize one thing: Kidd was nowhere to be found. You could've sworn he'd been right behind you the entire time- you'd heard his lumbering footsteps!

He's probably just in another store.. you decided, making to exit the library with the book still in your arms. Now that you were alone, you were overly conscious just how big the mall was. Every step you took left you uneasy, swearing you heard footsteps behind you- swore you heard voices, but no- eyes in the darkness, impossible, yet everytime you tried to counter the strange chills you got you just felt worse.

You'd wandered for a few minutes, peering into stores, and growing increasingly worried. What if he'd had a heart attack?! Or what if he'd gotten kidnapped? So much could've gone wrong- yet-

- yet the moment you were shoved against the wall, you had no time to worry about him.

A blood curdling screech ripped its way out of your lungs and you raised the book, fully prepared to slam it into your attackers body and book it- only for your wrists to be pinned to the wall. Your knee prepared to buck upwards, but a deep, growly voice sounded in your ear.

"You're shaking, mouse. Are you really that scared?"

His hot breath fanned against your neck as you almost melted, "k-kidd?! Where'd you go-" your voice was breathless, and Kidd chuckled, pressing his face into your neck. "Was never far.. don't gotta worry so much, mouse. I won't let shit hurt you."

[candycandy00]

plsss do shigaraki x short reader ?? like size kink stuff yk very high sorry shawty i love ur writing

Smut. 18+. Size kink.

You have a crush on your new boss. Just a minor one. Nothing important. But it does make the time pass quickly to know that you could run into him at any moment while dusting shelves or changing sheets. You’ve been working as a housekeeper at this villa for a few weeks now. Your quirk being rather useless in combat, you got shoved into whatever job was needed at the time. And right now, they need someone to clean the section of the villa that was given to the new leader of the group you belong to, newly dubbed the Paranormal Liberation Front.

Shigaraki Tomura was intimidating at first, even frightening. You hadn’t been on the streets that day when he fought, and defeated, Re-Destro. You have never seen him in action, but you’ve heard stories that made your blood run cold. Entire groups of people disintegrating at his touch. Buildings collapsing in seconds. Literal craters being formed in the ground. Who wouldn’t be terrified of this man?

The first night he came to his room, you didn’t even get a chance to introduce yourself before he closed the door. He didn’t reappear until the next evening, and you were shocked by how different he looked once out of the suit and coat, the creepy hand no longer on his face. He hobbled out of his room on crutches, wearing dark sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt. Aside from the injuries, he looked like a fairly normal twenty year old guy. You introduced yourself as the housekeeper and asked if he needed anything. Surprisingly, he was polite in his replies to you, though maybe a little dismissive.

Over the next few days, you observed him with great interest. He slept a lot the first few days, then started to move around more, occasionally going to the kitchen for snacks, rarely asking you to bring him anything. His friends came to see him often, and they could be a loud and rowdy bunch. You spotted him grinning a few times while talking to them, but when they were gone, he was quiet. To be honest, he seemed a bit lonely without them.

One day, out of the blue, he asked if there might be a gaming console of some kind at the villa. He was bored while waiting for his injuries to heal. You couldn’t find one there, so you brought one of your own from home. When you told him this, he seemed genuinely grateful. By the time you were watching him play games from a distance, you didn’t find him scary at all anymore.

Today he’s meeting with Re-Destro and the others, making plans of some sort that you’re not privy to. You’re in the hallway, dusting a tall book case. Being very short in stature, you have to pull a chair from the kitchen into the hall and climb onto it to reach the upper shelves. You’re lucky you were not expected to wear some sort of maid uniform. Instead, you wore casual clothes: denim shorts and a cropped t-shirt. You like being comfortable while you work.

The door at the end of the hall, leading to the foyer, opens. Shigaraki walks in, finally home from the meeting. His suit is more casual than the one he wore when he first took over as leader, and despite looking good in it, you stand by your opinion that he looks much nicer in his regular clothes.

As he approaches, you turn around in the chair and say, “Welcome back!”

He gives you a nod and a small wave as he starts to walk by you. You smile and return to dusting, but as you swivel back around to face the shelf, your foot slips on the shiny polished wood of the chair seat. You cry out in alarm as you fall, tumbling over the back of the chair and colliding with something soft yet firm. You feel your feet touching the ground and look up to see that Shigaraki has caught you in his arms.

You blush crimson and blurt out, “I’m so sorry! I should’ve been more careful!”

“It’s fine,” he says, though his voice is slightly strained. You remember then that he’s still badly injured, still recuperating. Before you can say anything more though, you feel the two of you falling toward the ground. You realize too late that Shigaraki had to drop his cane to catch you, and apparently that caused him to lose his balance.

The two of you hit the floor, Shigaraki on his back and you on top of him. Neither of you move for several seconds, as if you’re both waiting for the other person to say something first. Your face is pressed against his chest, and you can feel the soft, subtle thumping of his heartbeat. Finally, you raise up enough to look at his face. “Are you alright?” you ask. “I didn’t hurt you leg or reopen any wounds, did I?”

To your surprise, Shigaraki grins. “If a tiny girl like you can hurt me, I might as well give up.”

You blush again, suddenly very aware of the fact that the entire front of your body is fully in contact with his. One of your knees has slid over the side of his waist, your pelvic area shoved into his by the fall. To an observer who didn’t know the context, the two of you would look like lovers.

Carefully, so as not to aggravate his still-healing wounds, you move off him, inadvertently rubbing your crotch across his body. You’re both fully clothed, but the feel of it excites you. Your cheeks are still pink with embarrassment as you stand up and then hold out a hand to help him get to his feet.

When he stands up, you realize you’ve never stood this close to him before. Most of the times you’ve interacted with him, he’s been sitting down, or you’ve just walked by each other in the hall. But standing here, inches from him, you notice the height difference between you. Shigaraki isn’t the tallest guy around, but he’s practically a giant compared to you. Being short has provided plenty of challenges over your life time. You were picked on at school, you can never seem to reach things in the grocery store, and you still have to show ID to for every little thing, despite being in your twenties.

But now, staring up at Shigaraki, you kind of like being short. The size difference between you is kind of hot.

Shigaraki dusts off the suit he’s wearing and picks up his cane. He turns and starts to head to his room. Without really thinking, you reach out and grab the end of his jacket. “Wait!”

He turns and looks at you over his shoulder.

“Thank you for catching me!” you say.

He looks at you blankly for a few moments, then he says, “Wanna come to my room?”

You freeze. Did he just invite you to his room? Why? You’re practically nobody, an insignificant little speck in his world. You’re not naive. You know what he probably means by inviting you, where it will most likely lead. You hesitate, not because you don’t want to sleep with him, but because you worry about becoming emotionally attached. Then you remember that lonely look he sometimes gets when his friends have all left for the evening, and your hesitation is forgotten.

“I’d love to,” you finally answer him, and then the two of you walk down the hall together and into his room, shutting the door behind you.

You watch him pull off the pieces of his suit until only black pants and an unbuttoned white shirt remain. There are still bandages here and there, and his missing fingers made him struggle a bit with his buttons. He pauses and looks at you expectantly, so you pull your shirt over your head and your shorts down to your ankles before stepping out of them.

Shigaraki looks you up and down, and you feel a little shy. You’ve never been particularly self conscious about your body, but you’ve never had a guy this hot staring at it before. He slips off his shirt, revealing his toned body, scars and bandages somehow making him look even sexier. You strip off your underwear, then step over to him. He’s trying to unbutton his pants in a hurry, but his mangled hand is fumbling. You reach down and do it for him, looking him in the eyes as you nimbly unbutton and unzip his pants, letting them slide open and down his hips a few inches.

He sits down on the nearby bed. “You’re going to have to be on top,” he says.

Of course. With that injured leg, not to mention his other injuries, it would be hard for him to get into most other positions. You sit down on his lap, settling your weight on the thigh of his good leg. The fabric of his pants feels soft against your bare skin. You turn toward him and kiss his lips, then turn your back to him and scoot back so that your naked ass is pressing into his crotch. You can already feel a growing bulge beneath his boxers as you wiggle yourself against him. He reaches around with one hand and gropes your breast, then leans his face forward and nuzzles your neck.

You happen to glance up and notice the full length mirror across from you, displaying the whole carnal scene. You look so small, like a little girl in daddy’s lap. But you’re a fully grown woman, and you watch in the mirror as Shigaraki’s hand glides down your stomach and lands between your thighs. He gropes at the soft plump flesh there, coating his hand in your arousal. You open your legs wide for him, giving him an excellent view in the mirror, and he pinches your clit as your reward, making you moan and shudder in his lap.

He leans back slightly, giving you room to reach down and pull his cock from his boxers. It’s so big, so hard. You wonder if it will even fit inside you, given your small size. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try. Using the mirror to see what you’re doing, you raise up and then lower yourself onto his cock. You go slowly, carefully, at first. You don’t want to tear yourself open. Luckily, you’re soaking wet, which helps you get it halfway in. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, then press down further and further until he’s all the way in.

You wince as he fills you all the way up and then some, stretching the delicate tissue. In the mirror, you can see a slight bulge in your lower stomach, the outline of his cock. Shigaraki see’s it too, and the image must turn him on, because it feels like he just got even harder. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he says against your ear.

His voice sends shivers down your spine. You raise up slightly and then drop back down, repeating the motion over and over so that you’re bouncing on his cock, your breasts shaking. The sheer size of him causes a dull, throbbing ache that hurts so good. By the time he reaches around again to vigorously rub your clit, you’re moaning loudly, shuddering under his touch, watching him watching you in the mirror.

You cum hard all over his cock, drenching his hand. All energy leaves your body, and you’re too exhausted to keep riding him, so he snakes his arms under yours and lifts you up slightly so that he can thrust upwards into you, going even deeper than he was before. Your small stature makes this too easy for him, and within minutes, he cums into your limp body.

Shigaraki falls backwards on the bed, and you fall back onto him, the two of you panting together. After a few moments, you roll over to face him, studying his expression. Will he tell you to get your clothes and get out? You’re not delusional enough to think this is the start of some epic romance, but you’d like to think the two of you could be friends.

When he says nothing, you roll off him and stand up. “I better get back to work,” you say awkwardly.

As you move away from the bed, you feel him take hold of your hand and gently pull you back. “Take the rest of the day off,” he says.

Your eyes widen. “Really? I don’t wanna get fired.”

He grins. “Trust me, you’re not getting fired.”

You grin back, then climb into bed beside him, deciding this is the best job ever.

[intrepidacious]

time after time [6]

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

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 12.8k

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

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

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

six: butterfly effect

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d almost forgotten what that could feel like.

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

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

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

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

That was none of his business, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck you."

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

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

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

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

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

"Is that what they told you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A reason to get up in the morning.

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes so maybe the temptation goes away.

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

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

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

Because you’ve pissed him off now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No. How did you get stuck?"

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

How did it happen? That’s not … Okay.

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

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

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

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

Right. He doesn’t normally do that.

Except he has.

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

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

"Like what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seeing it now, though?

It makes your fingers twitch.

"Don’t say that. Not even as a joke."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow heavily. "Being noble."

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

He’s beautiful.

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

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

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

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

And yet.

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

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

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

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

Finally, he breaks eye contact, clearing his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have to do this alone.

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

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

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

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

"How would you know?"

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

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

"Promise."

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

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

***

There’s been a change in the weather.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this …

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

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

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

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

"You know what I mean."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Aren’t I?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam gives you a glare and your mouth twitches slightly.

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

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

Useless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Try that again, less convincing?"

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

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

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

You don’t, though.

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

***

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

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

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

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

He shrugs. "For a walk."

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

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

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

Bucky’s jaw twitches. "Nah."

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

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

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

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

"So? I like coffee."

"Really. I never knew."

"Screw you."

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

You miss his eyes.

Why won’t you look at me?

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

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

"Early." You blink.

"Sorry?"

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

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

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

"Sure thing," he shrugs. "Thanks—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. "My shadow."

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

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

"Not that old."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So is hers.

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

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

"You feel like or you know?"

"Isn’t that the same thing?"

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

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

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

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

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

Damnit. You might actually grow to like Lucy.

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

***

Time passes while it’s standing still.

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

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

Which you’re getting better at.

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

Rinse and repeat.

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

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

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

"You look like shit."

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

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

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

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

"Not particularly."

"Do you want to talk about something else?"

You almost smile. "Like what?"

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

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

"Did I?"

"Did you kill a puppy? I’d hope not."

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

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

You pitiful, selfish, useless bastard.

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

"Doing what?"

"I don’t know, but I don’t like it."

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

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

So you do.

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

"I can’t do this anymore."

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

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

Or maybe it’s dread.

"Maybe you can’t," Strange answers.

You blink, sitting upright. "What?"

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

Useless. Not good enough. Waste of time.

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

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

You can feel your breaths coming in shorter.

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

"Stop it!"

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

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

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

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

"You cannot keep this up."

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

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

Do as I tell you.

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

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

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

"And there it is."

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

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

"I didn’t—"

"Answer the question."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That’s not true."

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

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

Strange snaps his fingers to get your attention back.

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

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

"And what’s seeing him going to do?"

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

"Heaven help me," Strange mutters behind you.

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

Then, you walk through the closed door.

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

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

You only hesitate in front of Bucky’s bedroom door. You’ve never actually been inside his room before; well, not since he’s moved in. It feels odd to consider entering without him actually being aware of it.

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

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

"Changed your mind?"

You glance into the room.

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

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

Try the floor.

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

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

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

"Would he remember if I did?"

"I don’t know."

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

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

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

"You feel better?" Strange asks.

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

"What was?"

"Just …"

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

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

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

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

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

"Did I do something?" you say quietly.

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

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

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

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

The door clicks shut.

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

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

***

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

You can cling to that.

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

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

"Fair point," you concede.

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

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

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

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

"You used to have bangs?"

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

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

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

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

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

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

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

"Sounds like a lot of work."

It is.

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

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

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

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

"Y/N said it’s for your birthday."

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

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

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

You know.

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

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

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

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

Sadly, you’re just about a minute early.

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

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

"There you are."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Does Alpine seem weird to you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don’t trust her," you mutter.

"And yet the cat’s the weird one."

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

"There’s pie?" Bucky says.

"Not for you!"

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

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

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

Again and again and again and a—

"Whoa, whoa, you alright?"

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

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

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

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

Liar, liar, liar.

***

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

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

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

Not yet.

He got shot again yesterday.

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

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

"Today is Friday, July 4th."

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

What did you expect?

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You wish."

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

"You look like shit."

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

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

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

Not this again.

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

"Alright," he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But if I could prevent it—"

"It already happened."

"I can make it not happen."

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

"How do you know that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No one ever feels ready until they try."

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

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

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

"Good," you can hear Strange say quietly.

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

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

The band around your wrist does the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re all alone.

***

Three, two, one—

"Iced grande extra whip caramel macchia—shit!"

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

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

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

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

"Tall hazelnut latte for Misty!"

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

Strange still hasn’t returned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky still mumbles in his.

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

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

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

And she’s staring right at you.

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

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

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

The cat meows in disappointment.

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

She rubs against your palm.

You chuckle incredulously, scratching behind her ears. "You little devil."

Alpine seems particularly pleased with herself. She starts purring.

This is simply bizarre, you think as you continue petting her soft fur. You’re expecting a sarcastic comment from behind your shoulder any minute now, but it doesn’t come.

So, you lower yourself down on the floor next to Bucky, the tips of your fingers not quite grazing his arm as you swallow heavily.

And then you wait until he gets up.

It’s possible, you think as you watch him leave and then make yourself wake up too, that Strange is simply messing with you for the hell of it. You don’t like the timing of this, though. Your day still continues on and on and on, like it always does, but it seems just a little too pointed that this would happen right after you had your first hopes of getting out of here in a long time.

It doesn’t help that the reality glitches have decided to return with a vengeance.

Every day is still July 4th. You wake up with a start, you train, you get coffee, you fight over lunch, you take your astral visit, you go on that damn mission. It’s the details that start to get … fuzzy.

In the beginning, every single thing around you was the exact same every single day. Now, though, there are sometimes details that are just wrong. A different mug left on the drying rack. A mess all over the tables in the lab. Weird noises all over the Tower.

You don’t know what to make of any of it, and so in general, you follow Strange’s rule of thumb and simply ignore the things that are wrong one day and then right the next—which, thankfully, is all of them. You just go with it, telling yourself that this is simply reality malfunctioning a little, like a machine that needs oiling.

Weirdly enough, that doesn’t reassure you in the slightest.

But what else can you do?

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

That time, Sam is there when Bucky gets shot, and it’s his cry that follows you into the next day. Your hands are clean this time, and somehow that feels worse.

Everyone’s back to their usual stuff again, and that’s that.

Another time, you’ve barely rolled out of bed and into your bathroom—"Rise and shine, McFly!"—when you’re suddenly jolted forwards and you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume. Your stomach feels like it’s still turning, nauseous, as if you’d sat up too fast.

That feeling still leaves a bad taste in your mouth, sticking to the back of your mind like the blood you haven’t even had time to wash off.

The thing that demands most of your attention, though, is the pile of books waiting for you in the astral realm. Since you don’t have any control over the loop itself, you pour all of your energy into trying to understand the theory behind your powers. It’s giving you a constant headache, and it takes a lot longer than you would like to admit, but at least you feel like you’re doing something that’ll last.

Nothing else will.

There’s one last lonely cup sat on the counter next to your own, which signals that the rush is over for now. You can see Lucy wiping her forehead as you wave your goodbye, picking up both drinks on your way out and handing one of them to the guy just hurrying back downstairs.

"Here you go," you say without stopping, glancing at your phone. You haven’t stayed this late before.

"What the—" you hear behind you, just before the doors glide open and you’re greeted by the sound of traffic and a hot breeze of air.

If you’re lucky, you can make it back to your room without anyone seeing you. You’ve moved on to a particularly hefty tome about relativity, and you’d like to—

"Hey! Miss? Hold on a second!"

You look over your shoulder to see the delivery guy has run after you, cup still in his hand. His bike is leaned against a lamp post nearby, his cap dangling off one of the handles.

You found out a couple of weeks ago that he takes his break just after dropping off your order, but you don’t usually make eye contact anymore.

Now, he holds out his cup accusingly. "That’s my drink."

You smile. "Good for you."

"No. No, that’s not—I mean—how did you know it was my drink?"

And because nothing really matters and you really want to go home, you say, "It has your name on it, doesn’t it?"

You expect him to look at you with wide eyes, just like people normally do when you know things you’re not supposed to. His mouth will drop open, speechless, his frown will deepen, and you can wink at him and continue on your way so he can spend the next couple of hours wondering what just happened.

The cup falls out of his hand, but somehow he manages to catch it before it hits the sidewalk. When he looks up at you again, and his expression is unlike anything you’ve seen coming.

"But that’s not …" he says quietly. "Do you remember me?"

And then it’s you who’s speechless, because the shock on Peter Parker’s face is more than you bargained for.

*****

"Honestly, I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this," you said quietly, looking over the rim of your glass at the crowd.

"You complaining?" you heard Sam’s voice say over the little earpiece you were wearing.

"Not at all."

Apparently, people connected to terrorist organizations threw incredibly fancy parties.

You hadn’t felt this glamorous in a while, if ever, dressed up to the nines in a dark green jumpsuit with an incredibly flattering cut that you’d never had a reason to wear before. Despite your initial doubts about this whole thing, you felt great, for the first time in way too long.

"Are you gonna move any time soon?"

Well. Mostly.

At least Barnes cleaned up nice, you supposed; it almost made up for his grouchy demeanor.

With a sigh, you downed the rest of your drink and got back to work. You let the crowd swallow you up, seemingly on your way to the restrooms, and then you stopped it all to slip upstairs unnoticed by prying eyes and cameras.

You didn’t hold it for very long; you had to rattle some doors, after all, and despite your espresso martini, it was still hard to tell if you could manage several redos back to back. After all, you’d only been back in the game for a couple of weeks.

It took you a few tries to find the right office, and locating the files was comparatively easy with what you already had access to. There it was, proof that ULTIMATUM had managed to secure most of the Flag Smashers’ previous supporters as well as some high brow weapon dealers.

While you copied everything onto a flashdrive, your eyes caught one of the designs. You frowned.

Even though you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, exactly, something about it seemed just slightly too highbrow for an organization of the international bad egg committee that was supposedly still mostly underground. Your gaze started drifting through the rest of the office, noting the usual boring books and glass awards in the bookshelves on the far wall. You pulled open one of the desk drawers.

"You almost done in here?"

"Fuck!" You slammed the drawer shut again, getting your pinkie stuck in the process. "Damnit, where did you come from?"

Bucky pointed over his shoulder.

"Fuck me," you murmured, your eyes stinging at the pain.

Bucky looked nonplussed. "Can’t you just undo it?"

"Great input, thank you." The flashdrive beeped softly and you shut everything down again. At least you were definitely sober now. "What are you, anyway, my babysitter?"

"Wouldn’t have to be if you could check in on time," he answered, checking the corridors, then nodding for you to follow.

"Time’s a social construct," you murmured, but followed him, the flashdrive hidden in your fist.

You didn’t even make it to the staircase.

"Didn’t I tell you?" a voice said right before several triggers clicked and you both froze. "I knew I’d recognized that arm. And who do you have with you here, Winter Soldier?"

No one, you thought, and then you yanked time backwards so forcefully you stumbled into the desk, your heart still racing. The copy sat at 57%.

You felt almost seasick with the rewind, but there wasn’t any time. "Keep going upstairs," you said into your earpiece.

"What?" Bucky said.

"I’m fine. Don’t come get me. Just keep going," you gritted through your teeth, trying to calm your breaths. 70%.

"Exit plan C, then," Sam said.

Bucky didn’t answer. You looked at your hands. There was a slight tremor to them, but nothing too bad. If you could get the nausea under control, you could probably make it past the cameras one more time.

You should’ve eaten more.

As soon as the flashdrive was done, you ripped it out and forced everything to a halt again. Your palms were sweaty as you hurried out of the office and in the direction of the staircase, your lungs burning. This didn’t feel like a good sign.

You stumbled over your damn heels and the noise returned for that moment you lost your concentration.

Not good enough.

Sweat pearled on your forehead as you and the universe held your breath again. You could feel your hold slipping with every second that wasn’t allowed to pass. Time was impatient with you.

A small crowd had assembled at the bottom of the stairs. As you closed in on them, you felt a jolt go through you and suddenly found yourself surrounded by people as time attempted to right itself again. Your nails dug into the skin of your palm so hard you could feel yourself draw blood.

It went quiet again and you moved through them, almost blindly. Everything seemed to be spinning.

Behind your shoulder, you could hear several people talking, interrupted only by the world stopping around them every now and then.

"—d’you—see that—"

"—could’ve—sworn there—”

And with time stumbling and flailing around in confusion, you made it out of the building and into the waiting cab.

chapter seven

thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚

[the-grimm-writer]

Dabi keeping his darling drugged so he can keep them sweet and compliant 🥴

Ahhhhh this was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away lmao

Tw: angst, dubcon, oral (fem recieving), drug usage, smoking, dumbification? (kinda), praise, dabi's kinda sweet in like a really fucked up way, fem reader

A small high only went so far until you started craving more.

It had always calmed you down at first, the scent of marijuana heavy in the room, music playing in the background as Dabi blew smoke into your mouth, laughing whenever the hit was too strong for you and you'd break into a fit of coughs.

"Relax," he breathed smoke into your face the first time he'd gotten it out. "Just take a hit. Don't tell me you're scared of a plant."

At first you hated it. When he first took you, the last thing you wanted was to have a smoke sesh with your captor of all people. 

But you started to learn fairly quickly it calmed both of you down. So you started to embrace it, started actually enjoying the high to escape the constant fear you lived in. Your eyes would go red quickly, feeling like your mouth was full of cotton and would laugh at stupid things.

You wouldn't even mind when he pulled you into his lap, kissing and touching and squeezing your body while you just laughed away at random stuff that popped in your head.Dabi was the more calm one. Sometimes you couldn't even tell if he was phased by it. He'd lean back lazily against the couch, joint in his mouth and puff out smoke. If he was in a good mood he liked to show off, blowing out "o" shapes and chuckling when you try to copy and fail.

You couldn't deny how pretty he looked like that in the dim lighting, a cloud of smoke surrounding him.

"Hey babe," Dabi came back to his apartment after a long day of "work" with a grin on his face, taking out a bag of weed and tossing it to you. "Giran finally got the good shit. Said it's some of the strongest around."

You took a glance at it before throwing it onto the table. "I don't want it, Dabi."

"Is this about earlier? You know I don't like coming home and fighting. Why not kiss and make up?"

"That's not what this is about. I'm sick of just sitting here and getting high."

"Oh?" He smiled, walking towards you. "Is this not good enough for you now? You need somethin' stronger?"

"No-"

"That's kinda hot." He cut you off. "Going from a little prude that was scared of getting high to wanting something more.” 

You frowned. “You never listen, do you?”

Dabi grinned, pecking your lips. “Wear something pretty tomorrow, sweetheart. I’m taking you out.” 

Him suddenly telling you he was going to take you out worried you. He’d kept you inside his little apartment for god knows how long. But you did miss going out, even if it meant you had to do it with him. 

The next evening you'd gotten ready. He stayed quiet, which you’d learned with Dabi was never a good sign. He was the silent, deadly type. A wild card. It made your stomach flip, and you couldn’t tell if you’d rather go back to being trapped in the house again or not. 

After thirty minutes, Dabi parked before turning to you. “There’s going to be a lot of shady fuckers here.” 

“Like you?” You chirped in with a snicker. 

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, like me. But if you want some creepy fuck snatching you up by the end of the night then you’ll only talk to someone if I allow it, got it?” 

You sighed, wondering why he’d put you in such a high risk situation if it was so dangerous, but you couldn’t deny you were drawn in by the loud music and flashing lights. 

Never had you been around so many felons and wanted criminals. Dabi had his arm wrapped around your waist, pointing at some of them and telling you their names but you weren’t paying attention. 

It wasn’t long until someone pulled Dabi to the side. An older man, with silver hair. He gave you a nod before he led Dabi away. 

You looked around. There wasn’t very many people that looked approachable. No matter how much you weren’t thrilled with it, you didn’t want to talk to the wrong person. Because not only would the person get cremated alive, but then Dabi would punish you. And he was always cruel with them, finding new and creative ways to really make you suffer so the lesson was burned into your brain. 

Just the thought of it happening sent shivers down your spine, and you shook off the thoughts. 

There was one guy alone in the corner by a table. He was around average height, on the thinner side. He looked vaguely familiar so you walked over to him. 

He had a disheveled appearance. Messy light blue hair and dry, cracked pale skin. He looked creepy, if you were being honest. Yet somehow he pulled it off.

Shigaraki, you think his name was, looked you up and down, making you shift in discomfort. You remembered Dabi mentioning him when you came in. 

“You a hooker or somethin’?” He asked as he lined the white powder on the table up with a card. 

You immediately shook your head. “No.” 

He stood up. “Oh. With clothes like that I thought you were. Who are you with?” 

“Dabi. He’s my...” What were you supposed to say? Boyfriend? A friend of yours? You definitely couldn’t say captor. He’d just laugh in your face. 

“Pimp?” He snickered. “Joking,” he added when you glared at him.

After a tense moment of silence he motioned to the table. “You gonna have some or what?” 

You looked at it. It felt like you were in a movie, at the point where the main character was about to hit an all time low. You made eye contact with Dabi and he smirked, motioning for you to do it. 

"Nah." You learned back, away from it. 

He grabbed you so you were face to face. "You know, everyone in this room is running from something. It's why we're villains. It's why most are willing to try it at least once. I can tell there’s something you’re hiding, so why not forget it for a while?” He motioned to the table. 

Did you have anything to lose? This wasn’t elementary school, a simple “no” and “stop” wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Besides, you were so tired of fighting. 

Finally you gave in, smiling. “Show me how it’s done, will you? Don’t be too hard on me, this is my first time doing something like this.” 

Shigaraki grinned. “Don’t worry about a thing 

Your eyes were dilated, wide and unblinking and looked around like it was a whole new world you were seeing. Shigaraki laughed, but you just ignored it and walked away from him. 

You were on the dancefloor, laughing and spinning around with other people. All their faces blurred together yet you didn’t care. You closed your eyes, still feeling the multicolored lights flashing. 

Dabi had finished his conversation with Giran, heading straight towards Shigaraki and taking a seat, watching you dance around. 

“What is she to you?”  

Dabi turned and looked at Shigaraki, a cigarette dangling in his mouth. “Mine.” 

Shigaraki hummed at his answer. “You’re playing a dangerous game. Getting her hooked on shit.” 

He shrugged at his boss. “I know what I’m doing.” 

Sometimes Dabi felt guilty, dragging you into his world. Before he took you, the life of heroes and villains barely affected you. You were just normal. A plain, average civilian. Yet he was attracted to your life, and the more he watched he couldn’t help but drag you into his.  

But you fit right in when you were in this state, soothing his doubts.

Dabi knew he was walking a fine line, getting you hooked on the rush. But that wasn’t the only thing he was doing. 

All Dabi did in life was hurt people. Hurt random, innocent people. Hurt his family despite a part of him knowing well they were also victims of his father. He even destroyed himself, every single day. 

That’s not what he wanted with you. He wanted to treat you like glass. The way you deserve to be treated. Like a fragile, beautiful being. It felt like he could only do that when you had your head in the clouds, the only time you’d allow him to touch you gently. Worship the smooth skin that was such a vibrant contrast against his.

It was beautiful, in a twisted, horrid way. This world you found yourself dragged into. You always thought there was beauty in darkness, and this was no different. 

The pleasure, you thought. That was it. That was the beauty in it. The rush, the euphoric rush as the drugs danced inside your system. 

Dabi was like a drug. You hated him, just like the drug itself, but you loved the feeling he brought you.  

You don’t remember when you got back to his house, but you’re laying in his bed, his hands on your thighs, squeezing the flesh tight as he gives your slit a testing lick, making you moan out. You were already so wet before he even started, noticing your arousal when he’d rubbed your clothed sex before the both of you left and felt a damp spot in your panties. It almost made him lose what little self control he had. 

The sweet noises you let out encouraged him, his rough hands running down your body as he sucked on your clit. He looked up at you, watching you moan and grind up against him, pushing up against his mouth, silently begging for more. 

“I - I -” You babbled out as he continued, licking and sucking at your cunt.

“I - I what?” You whined when he pulled away and mocked your tone, leaving you throbbing and desperately needing more, to be sent over that edge you were hanging right over. “Use your words, sweetheart, tell me what you want.” 

“Cum,” you whimpered as he started eating you out again, running your hand through his black hair and pulling at it. “I need it!” 

He groaned, and you almost cried as it vibrated against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you. 

“Keep begging,” he demanded, his hot breath hitting your bare skin, making tears gather in your eyes. 

“Please!” You cried out, feeling like you would go crazy if you didn’t release soon like you desperately needed to. “Dabi!” 

“There we go, such a good girl,” he cooed. “You know good girls get rewarded.” 

You squirmed around on the bed, body writhing in pleasure as he hit all your sweet spots, screaming out his name. 

You were going to regret this in the morning, if you even remembered it, but for now you relished in the way your tummy tightened, your whole body relaxing as you came on his mouth, your vision turning white as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

Dabi wanted to fuck you, but he decided you were done for the night, barely able to keep your eyes open. 

“I hate you,” you groaned out, falling against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. It was painfully intimate, these moments. 

He chuckled and it vibrated against you. “That’s fine, as long as that pussy keeps loving me.” 

It wasn’t long before the attitude died out of you as well. You barely talked on most days, already knowing what was to come. He hadn’t taken you out since the party, or maybe he did, you couldn’t really remember. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

You became so pliant, so pretty, so sweet and gentle when you were under the influence. All his. You’d even give him a kiss on the lips, making sure it felt real and genuine before he gave you what you truly wanted. 

And Dabi was damn proud of himself. You were addicted to some hardcore shit but he didn’t allow you to look like you were. He only let you do it once in a while, and he always made sure to feed you and take care of yourself.  

He’d never allow you to overdose. No matter how much you begged him for another dose, just a little bit more, he’d refuse.

Unfortunately it got to the point where when you were sober, you didn’t like it. You didn’t know who you were anymore and you couldn’t tell which you hated more. The fact you craved drugs or the fact that your body also craved him. 

Drugs were bad but Dabi was the worst of it all. You despised the ground he walked on, yet you couldn’t help but think you’d be lost without him. Without everything he provided you with, without the feeling he gave you. 

When he thought he was going too far, or he gave you too much, he’d call the quits for a bit. For you, those times were the worst. 

It had been a few days since Dabi decided he’d give your body a break. At least you thought it was a few days, but you couldn’t tell. It could’ve been weeks, months for all you know. 

Your head was pounding, you’d break out into sweats and chills. You’d yell, scream and cry feeling like you were going to die if you didn’t get your next fix. Dabi just stepped away for a bit, only coming back when you finally gave up and accepted it. 

After debating with himself, Dabi decided in giving you what you desired. When he came home, you were on the living room floor, asleep on your stomach. His heart clenched when he flipped you over, pushing away the hair that clung onto your sweaty skin. Your cheeks were dry with tear marks staining them. You wined when he picked you up, slowly waking up. 

"Don't fight it," Dabi mumered softly, laying you down on the couch. "You'll feel better in a moment."

You looked up at him sleepily. “What are you doing?” 

“Open your mouth,” he demanded. 

Some might think he's changing you, trying to break you and twist you into something you weren't. But he wasn't.

Your lips parted and you let him slide a pill into your mouth. You swallowed it and a moan escaped you as the familiar euphoric rush jolted through your body, your eyes dilating.

You needed this. At the end of the day you needed to have the thrill. 

And there was nothing Dabi loved more than seeing the soft, lazy smile on your face as he kissed your neck, gently pulling off your clothes and moaning with bliss. 

Your head was somewhere lost, your thoughts just a blank, endless void as you just allowed your body to feel. 

Then you'd fall asleep so peacefully. No tears, no loud arguments before he wound up knocking you out or threatening to use his quirk until calm down.

Instead, he could just relax and hold you close. He could almost trick himself into thinking that this was normal, that you actually loved him. He'd close his eyes, pretending there was some sense of normalcy in his life, the way yours used to be.

Maybe it could happen one day, then he could be your drug the same way you're his. 

[ac3-76]

Cole Brookstone Headcannons

warnings: slight cussing? mentions of racial stereotypes/discrimination

General

He was the sexiest man alive 3 years in a row

He also dabbled in modeling

he didn't even try either, a modeling agent saw him and gave him a business card

Cole went to one interview, the next thing he knows he's walking down the runway with Bella Hadid

he's a thought son

does a lot of stuff on social platforms to spread awareness for racial discrimination, politics, and cancer reaserch

if they were to have BLM protests in Ninjago, he would throw tear gas back at cops

He has the BIGGEST resting bitch face ever

obviously he loves cake, but he loves brownies with caramel drizzle and a sprinkle of sea salt on top even more than he loves cake

he really loves Dolly Partons Carmel Turtle mix

He loves Dolly Parton in General

He only drinks water

He HATES those "make my water of the day with me" videos

like JUST DRINK WATER THROUGH OUT THE DAY!?! HELLO?!

Gossip/debrief sessions with Nya are a weekly occurrence

the reason Nya was so confused abt Jay vs Cole in season 3/4/5 is because of how close Nya and Cole already were

But after she stepped away from both of them and thought about her relationship with each of them, she realized Cole was like a sister to her

And I mean sister

She's never had a sister before but her relationship with Cole is exactly how she imagines sister relationships

Nya introduces him as her sister and he's chill with it

He works out with Kai

but unlike Kai, Cole LOVES rest days

he goes to yoga 3 or 4 times a week and is besties with his yoga instructor Andy

Andy and her girlfriend got married and he went to the wedding, that's how close they are

I feel like he's friends with a lot of lesbians

idk they just kinda gravitate towards him

Cole is 6'3

he's also black

he has snake bite piercings

his mom's favorite tree was a maple tree, so he got a maple leaf tattooed behind his right ear

his mom would always tuck his braids or dreads behind his right ear.

he also has a hand tattoo that looks something like this:

I'm not saying Ninjago has a lot of racial stereotypes or discrimination

but, when they see 6'3, muscular, tatted, pierced, black. resting bitch face Cole walking down the street people tend to label him as scary or dangerous

because of this he's always afraid of coming off as creepy or weird when he tries to talk to someone

Dating

His body is so large, solid, and muscular and it's perfect for hugs and cuddling

He doesn't care about cuddling position- if you guys are comfortable and can fall asleep, its perfect

his favorite place to kiss is your forehead and your shoulders

his love language is acts of service

"my room is too bright in the morning, even with my blinds shut" the next day he has blackout curtains installed

"I always hit my head on that one cabinet" idk how but thanks to his handy work you no longer bump your head on that cabinet

"I wish my kitchen had sodalite counters" You have sodalite counters now(the good thing is, it was mostly free too, he just used his earth powers to find enough sodalite for your counter)

You guys met when the ninjas went out to a restaurant to celebrate whatever victory they had just had

and because he's used to being stereotyped as scary or weird for the way he looks, when you approached him to ask for his number he was shocked and supprised

he was happy about it tho because he had been glancing at you the whole time the team was at the restaurant

You're first date? Mini golfing.

He's been thinking about the perfect first date FOR. YEARS.

why is mini golfing the perfect first date?

Public setting for both parties feeling safe

mini golfing is fun and fairly inexpensive

mini golfing provides plenty of time to talk and chat, but if an awkward moment arises there's something to do

done golfing and now we're hungry?

cheap and decent food inside

done eating but don't want to end the date?

most mini golf places have arcades

AND most arcade games are meant for 2 people

want to take some cute photos?

Most arcades have photo booths for taking cute pics

Cole has been planing a mini golfing first date for years, and just needed someone with the right energy to do it with

Romcom type relationship

You guys meet in a cute romcomy way, have a cute romcomy first date, then you have some sort of romcomy problem, then work things out and live happily ever after

I feel like the romcomy problem wouldn't be very romcomy tho, maybe you guys met before he was a ghost, and him being a ghost was the problem you worked through?

he would keep 1 flower from every boquet he gives to you so he knows when the bouquet is dying, then he gets you fresh flowers

You always have fresh flowers from him, for the entirety of ur relationship

he's a thought son so you would stay up talking about what you guys want your future to look like

He's used to you waking him up in the middle of the night because he was snoring

He gives great advice, but before he gives it he asks if you want comfort or advice

he's also really good at comforting you

he just knows exactly how to make you feel safe and understood

you'd go to yoga with him, Andy and her girlfriend(now wife) would love you

if you guys did want kids, Cole would be the perfect dad

Physical touch is his 2nd love language, but he doesn't rlly like PDA

most touches in public are pinky or hand holding(he would do the thumb thing), putting his hand on the small of your back when going through crowds, maybe a peck on the temple here and there

but in private he can't get his hands off you

he just wants to touch you in any and every way possible

he's infatuated by you

he sends you tiktoks of an orange cat(him) and some other cat(color/type depending on ur personality) and says us

he sends you couple trends and says "we should do this"

"if I every won the lottery, oh wait, I already did" yeah. he did that, first 2 slides were him, and the other 30 were pics of you

"oh that's pretty, imma take a picture" yep.

he has life 360 with you

not in a weird way, obvi, in like a oh this fun way

You're like the parents of the team

Jay and Nya are the uncle and aunt

In another universe the four of you are drinking wine and talking about how annoying some coworkers have been recently

[leewritestoomuch]

Hiii (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I see that u r accepting nsfw asks🫶

So can I request an Ukyo x reader where the reader is touching theirself then ukyo hears them and helps them??

It's okay if you don't want to do this tho 🥲

hiiii thank you for the request! I’ll totally write this!

So sorry, I’m going to assume fem! Reader. Do let me know if you wanted otherwise.

Warnings: Masturbation, Oral (Fem! Receiving)

He couldn’t help it. His ears were too sensitive. Too sensitive to not notice the slick sounds of what he can only assume is the pad of your finger teasing yourself. Too sensitive to not notice the sound of a finger sliding in, then back out with a slick “pop!”

Too sensitive to not notice the way your breath hitches as quiet squelches leak out from behind your bedroom door, if you could even call it that.

You had assumed he was a sleep, and maybe if he was he wouldn’t have woken up over such small noises, but he wasn’t. He didn’t know what to do. In this stone world, he currently has no earplugs, headphones, muffs, or anything to drown out the sounds.

And unfortunately, as disgusting as he felt for it, he couldn’t control the way his pants tightened, the way his breath hitched with yours, or the way his mind can’t help but picture what your face must look like. And that image doesn’t help the situation in his pants at all.

He feels it’s too far to let himself touch himself to your sounds. After all, you didn’t even know he was listening. And though it’s not his fault, he’d feel creepy and like he took advantage if he made it a silent mutual thing. So he endures it until he hears you grunt and a whisper falls from your lips.

“Ukyo…” he heard it loud and clear, even though you’d whispered it low enough anybody else wouldn’t have noticed. Then a low groan and you whisper again, “It’s not enough…”

He can’t help but let the idea cross his mind that maybe he could make you cum quick. And he finds himself nearing your door, though he feels selfish for not keeping his mouth shut and staying still during this. He hesitates, but now he feels creepier if he doesn’t knock. After all, now he’s standing at the door, close enough that with his ears he’s certain you’re curling and thrusting in 2 fingers, but the rhythm he picks up for your clit is irregular. And your disappointed noises that follow soon after tell him that’s not how it’s supposed to be.

So before you can do anything else, he knocks in the door. He hears you freeze, the air goes still and silent, before finally you call out.

“Uh… yes?”

“Hey…” He doesn’t know what to say yet, but he quickly tries to think of the right words. “I heard my name.”

“Oh, sorry I must have been dreaming.” You chuckle awkwardly, lying through your teeth.

“I heard more than that.” He says quickly, tone clearly a bit more nervous than he intended. It goes silent for a moment before he hears shuffling, then footsteps, and lastly the door swings open.

You’re standing there is pajamas that are haphazardly thrown on. He knows it’s a little weird to think, considering the lack of consent given thus far, but he wishes you hadn’t gotten dressed again.

“I heard my name, and I know that doesn’t mean that you want to have sex with me, but I figured I’d… uh… ask? Do you want any help?” He’s more calm than a lot of people would be, but he’s also a nervous wreck inside.

“Yes, I do.” You answer quickly, and on queue, both of you are backing into the room, the thin excuse for a door gets locked behind him.

He decides he’d take his time, within reason, because he’s fairly certain you’re already sexually frustrated.

Between the two of you, it was fairly obvious there were feelings. Even the two of you could see that. However, the two of you have no relationship. So he knows he’s gotta cover some basic respectful bases. Not only that, but he’s dying to kiss you.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, and you chuckle. It’s cute he feels the need to ask when you let him in to have sex. You nod, and he closes the gap between you two. He pecks your lips first, before changing to an open mouth kiss, one that deepens in hunger as a new kind of heat brews between the two of you.

Once the two of you are exploring the taste of each other’s mouthes with your tongues, he finally starts to touch you. His hands find their way under your shirt, and soon his lips leave your mouth for your neck. His hands leave your shirt to slip off your pants, but not before looking to you for permission, which you grant.

And soon his head is buried between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your clit in an experimental rhythm. His eyes are locked on your face, watching your reactions. Once he finds the pace he sees, or more so hears, the best reaction, he keeps it and adds his fingers into your cunt.

His fingers curl a few times before rubbing against your g-spot, then pulling out and pushing back in time with his tongue on your clit. He continues his motions as you tangle your hands in his white hair, your head thrown back as you breathe heavily.

“Don’t stop…” You breathe out. He hums against your clit in response, causing you to whine.

He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t change anything. And soon your hips buck up against his face a bit, which he doesn’t mind, and your back arches off the bed. Your legs shake a bit as he pushes you over the edge.

“Fuck, yes! Ukyo!” You shout, moaning for him.

“So pretty…” he mutters when he pulls away, slick covering his chin.

You’re already thinking about returning the favor.

I was half awake when I wrote this so I apologize if it’s not very great at points. I’ll look over it tomorrow but I’m posting it for now.

[relaxxattack]

A genq, with no harm meant (we have differing opinions, that's okay) but like. Genuinely, what is the difference between a fan privately messaging drm, and Tommy "Schlatt Stan" innit messaging Schlatt at 16/17 and getting talking in the dms, ending up becoming friends. What's the difference between him doing it with Wilbur? With techno? All of them were people he looked up to, was a fan of and admired enormously, and yet they were allowed to grow a friendship. Hell, I met my best friend because I was a huge fan of hers, made her art, edits, probably would have been a stan if that had been a thing back then but we got to talking in private messages and after a while she gave me other apps to contact her on. I met my gf because she was a fan of my writing - we now live together. I genuinely don't understand how this is automatically creepy or predatory beheviour, having been on both sides of the scenario. I think the situation has a lot more nuance than just "DM's bad, no cc should DM anyone ever" and "getting a private Snapchat is creepy"

(I should say for the purposes of this I'm only taking what we know 100% to be true, which is the insta DM's which have 0 evidence of any kind of inappropriate sexual content, I'm waiting for further solid evidence to make a full judgement on the situation)

the difference is that tommy was a fan asking specifically for advice about content growth, OR to join their content. tommy was always trying to be a youtuber + bully bigger ccs into letting him into their content. tommy reached out first, and he was on BUSINESS. although of course they became friends later, the nature of his reaching out was 'professional'

this situation, on the other hand, involves a content creator having a pattern of talking to underage female fans. specifically to compliment them or their appearance, or ask to make their conversations MORE private by sharing snaps. ( <- that is the info from the dms DREAM CONFIRMED. not any others). that action is almost immediately by anyone with street smarts read as predatory.

is it possible it WASN'T? absolutely. it's fully possible that in the best case scenario all of that was in good faith. but it still LOOKS really fucking bad. and dream is not an idiot. he should have known how bad that looks, how obviously predatory it seems. in the BEST CASE SCENARIO, he's still a complete idiot who was engaging in idiotic and unprofessional behavior that looks unsafe and predatory. and then he brushed aside everyone's reasonable concerns about it. that is the BEST POSSIBLE CASE SCENARIO, and it's still pretty fucking scummy. plus with how ridiculous his response is, i'm very inclined to believe it's at least somewhat worse than the best case.

*EDIT: realizing after the fact that this looks very aggressive-- i’m not aggressive towards you, anon, your question was asked fairly politely. this situation as a whole just makes me grossed out and angry

*EDIT TWO: wilbur, after finding out tommy was a minor, became uncomfortable with the power dynamic and blocked him until a later date at which it was clear tommy was a cc too. it is REMARKABLY easy to notice when a power dynamic is a little off and form respectful distance, and ccs are absolutely capable of it.

[call-me-a-simp]

Heal My Wounds

Horror Movie Marathon (part 31)

Rhea Ripley x Reader

Summary: You are in a toxic relationship with an abusive man but manage to run away. A tall, black haired woman picks you up from the streets just in time so your ex doesn't get you. But who is she and why does she seem so familiar to you? As you get to know each other you start to notice weird feelings you never had before whenever she's around.

"Hey Rhea, there's a package for you" you shout in the direction of the living room. "Did you order anything?" you ask and hear her hurrying towards you.

"Yes, yes don't open it!" she says and takes the package. "Okay okay, chill" you giggle and she pecks your cheek. "any plans for today?" you want to know.

"none that I'm aware of but we still got a lot to do" Rhea states. "ye.. True.. God why does planing a wedding have to be so.. Ugh.. Stressful" you huff and walk back into the living room.

Your girlfriend laughs and goes to hide the package in her closet. She didn't order anything except the tailor made suit, so it had to be that.

She comes back to you and sits down on the couch next to you. "Okay, let's get some sort of organization in all of this. We'll start with choosing a location, okay?" she looks at you and you hum in agreement.

"Do you wanna go for a more private wedding or make it public in like the arena or so, having all the fans watch you know?" Rhea asks. "I'm not such a big fan of big crowds so I'd be thankful if we keep it fairly private" you chuckle nervously.

"Okay, uhm.. I know we're both not very religious and stuff, but what if we do it in an abandoned church or so and make it all spooky?" Rhea seems pretty excited about this idea of hers.

"well, it would be a very unusual and unique wedding, I'm in!" you grin at her.

You keep setting plans for another two hours before making a quick break to get something to eat and then continue. You didn't think that planning something this serious could actually be this much fun.

At the end you both were pretty tired and exhausted but happy. It was totally worth the effort, at least if it turns out the way you want it to. But that was a problem for tomorrow, for now you've had enough and decide to chill for the rest of the day.

Either spend some couple time or invite the boys over to play some video games. You weren't completely sure yet.  

"Okay, so Finn just texted me, asking if we wanna hang out today as it's his last free day before he has to leave for a match" Rhea says.

"Sure, why not. Wanna invite all of them and make a horror movie marathon?" you smirk at her. "What's gotten into you lately? You're so hyped for horror stuff it's scaring me" your girlfriend laughs.

She quickly messages the boys about your plans and soon enough you were all settled onto the couch, cuddled up together under some blankets. Rhea on the outside, you next to her, Damian in the middle and then Dominik with Finn on the other outside.

You decided to start with the Conjuring series as it wasn't thaat creepy. You spent your hours, watching the movies, ordering and eating pizza in between and cuddling closer even more as you and Dom were little scaredy-cats.

It eventually got so late that your friends decided to stay the night. The couch was only big enough for two people, so Dominik slept in the bed with you and Rhea.

---------------------------------------------------

Part 31, I have only one more part planned, any ideas for more stories?

Taglist:@babybatlover @legit9thlunaticwarrior @thatonepansexual2000 @nox-fire

[sacr3d-joeyxx]

The new hire pt. 2

Slipknot x Reader

TW: Alcohol

“Then you’ll really see the band in a different light~”

That circled through your head, over and over again until you knew that you should probably join them for the night out..The way Paul said it to you; it seemed to not be an offer but more of a demand for you to show up…

It’s barely even 10pm but it’s pitch black.. but you were told to meet back up at the green room, they had a change of plans and the supervisor of Slipknot asked them to just stay in the green room instead of going out and spending god knows how long out there. There was subtle music playing it wasn’t loud but you could hear it from outside

*Knocking*

The music was turned down a bit but you could still hear it… The green room door opens and your surprised by the tallest member, Jim there in the doorway with..no mask on..

“Y/N it’s so good to see you…”

He had no mask on, why did he have no mask on? Did everyone else have their mask on or was it off like Jim’s? Why would they show you their faces so early on..it’s barely even been more than ten hours since you met them in person…

“What’s the matter? Thought we would have our masks on?”

You looked at him, his eyes locking with yours..it was like that for what felt like hours..but you broke eye contact once he stepped inside and offered you his hand to lead you into the green room. Your question about if they were still wearing their masks was answered..the masks were off but you could still see to stage makeup they wear underneath the masks..it was all smudged and the makeup would follow their trails of sweat down their faces.

“Hey there~ Y/N”

You now were just trying to learn which one had you already met when they had a mask on…there’s no telling who is who besides Jim..he looks like a lamppost for crying out loud..in the mask and even outside of it..it’s funny how he looks so much more laid back without the mask. He could tell you were trying to find out who was who so he cleared his throat and clapped his hands together.

“Do you actually want to meet them? Y’know outside of the mask?”

You paused.

“Yeah, it would help a lot..”

Jim chuckled and looked at Paul.

Someone clear his throat and it sounded fairly familiar, but you can’t be for certain yet.. He stood up, then proceeded to stretch and walk over towards the cooler they had in front of the small tv in the room. He bent down and opened it and grabbed a beer then opened it for you and walked over to hand it to you…His presence was nice and comfortable..you think it’s Paul..

“Oh..thank you Paul..~”

You guessed correctly because he smiles and he says you’re welcome, his eyes are a lot prettier when they are outside of the mask..you took a sip of beer..then another one…You feel like something is missing so you look around and begin to count all of the bodies in the room and you count up to 8..someone is missing..but who..it doesn’t matter because Paul somehow reads your mind.

“Mick, doesn’t really join us when we drink..he just stays away when we do this”

You chuckled at the fact that you didn’t even ask the question yet but you got an answer..creepy you guess..you take a couple more sips until you end up finishing your beer..

“So, y’all just drink your asses off before traveling again?”

Paul chuckles at the fact that you finished your beer already and her goes over to the cooler again to get another beer for you, but you stop him and ask him if he has something more…y’know something alcoholic not just beers.

“Well, well, well~ you like harder stuff like the rest of us?”

You nod softly

“I’ll go shot for shot if someone is up for it”

The room goes silent for a sec until Sid stands up, it’s easier to tell who is who if you watch their body movements..Sid looks you up and down sizing you up to see how many shots he’ll have to take.

“You’ll be out in 13 shots~”

Sorry, if the formats are still wacky, I’m still deciding on the layout!! Xoxo

[legacyshenanigans]

I've been fairly busy since I woke up today, but now that i'm settled I've got another one of my lucid dreams which I had today. To (mildly) entertain you all with 🤣

Just incase anyone doesn't know what Lucid dreaming means, it means KNOWING you're dreaming which happens to me pretty regularly. Weirdly sometimes I can control the whole dream, but sometimes I can't, like this one, things have to play out as they are, but I'm just fully aware it's a dream and can control myself but not my surroundings. Also, usually, to wake myself up from these dreams, I tend to just tell a person in my dream that I know I'm dreaming, some crazy, creepy shit will happen, then I wake up. Anyway, onto the dream haha.

So, I was at an airport with my partners parents and his sister, and weirdly, my partner wasn't there. We sat at an airport bar, and his sister hands me a 5-pound note and says, "Can you go and buy me a can of sweetcorn?" I said yeah and took the money and wandered off. The airport was massive and there was plenty of shops, but I thought to myself "Where the fuck am I gonna get a can of sweetcorn? Do you they even sell cans of sweetcorn in airports?" So I was going in every shop, just looking around.

Then I came to an area that had a bunch of massage chairs in it, and saw my Nanna on one of them, and I thought "Oh cool, my Nannas in this dream" so I wandered over to her and said Hi, she asked me what I was doing there? And I told her "I can only assume I'm going on holiday with me being in an airport" then I asked her if she was going on holiday too, and she said "airport? We're at my house"

I turned around to look and I was indeed suddenly at my Nannas house, I turned back towards her and she was just sat at her dining room table, I then asked her if she had a can sweetcorn 🤣 and she looked at me like I was a weirdo, then I thought to myself "Oh wait a minute, this is a new dream segment, I don't need to worry about the fuckin sweetcorn anymore." But I felt in my pocket that I still had the money my fellas sister had given me, so I pulled it out and looked at it, and it turned from a 5 pound note to hundreds of pounds worth of notes. And my Nanna said, "That's a lot of money," and I was like "Yeah" and shoved it back into my pocket, and she said, "Give it to me?" So I was like,"Nah, this is mine, " and my Nanna casually whacked out a knife and threatened me, saying, "Give. Me. The money." So I was like "the fuck?" And ran out of her house and was in the local town, I saw a Morrisons (UK supermarket) and ran over to it and went inside.

There was NOBODY in there, it was just me, and I remember thinking "Where are all the people? Why is nobody in here?" Then I turned down an aisle, and saw my Nanna again at the other end, with the knife, and she yet again said "Give me that money!" And she started running towards me fast as fuck and I was like "Nanna what the fuck are you doing?!" So I started running away from her as she chased me around the supermarket, but everytime I looked back at her she was changing into something else. In the end I looked back and she'd turned into this REALLY tall, bald man, who kinda looked like Withers from BG3 🤣.

I kept running, but my feet were getting tired and I was out of breath, then I thought "I don't even need this fuckin money, I'm in a fuckin dream" so I turned around to this freaky bald man and I was like "Take it!!" And threw the money at him, but he just laughed and carried on chasing me. So I started running again, but got fuckin sick of it and thought to myself "I'm gonna have to put an end to this dream" so I turned and I did the thing that I knew usually woke up form these dreams, and I said to the dude "I know I'm dreaming right now, this ain't real" and he froze on the spot and didn't move again, but I didn't wake up! So I was like "For fuck sake." So I headed towards the exit to leave the supermarket and the doors were gone, then I was like "Great, I'm stuck in this dream, in an empty fuckin Morrisons" So I was wandering around and I went down the chilled goods aisle looking for this yogurt I really wanted and wondered if I'd be able to eat it in my dream 🤣 then a fucking HAND darted out of one of the fridges and grabbed me and I was like "The fuck?!" I turned to look and it was my Nanna again, but normal and herself, and she said "Come into the fridge and you'll wake up" and I remember thinking "Anything to get out of this fucking dream" so I entered the fridge which turned into a long, dark, cold hallway, I was freezing and turned to look at where my Nanna was, but she was gone, and so was the door to the fridge, I was just in the middle of a dark, cold everlasting hallway, and I said, "Nan?"

....Nothing....

So I shouted really loudly and angrily

"Nanna?! Where you at?!"

And I woke up.

So there you go, another weird ass dream from me. 🤣🤣🤣

[andiwriteordie]

aaaa congrats on 1.5k!!!

for the writing prompt things idk uh cuddly/touchy byler (prerelationship) and one of the other party members just calling them out on their lack of heterosexuality??

overdue hi helloooo!!!

oh my god i love this. this is one of my favorite party tropes, so here, have some lucas sinclair being So Done with mike and will. a fun little modern au, set around the party's sophomore or junior year of college!

—

now that i see you 

Here’s a little known fact that very few people know about Lucas Sinclair.

He’s bi.

Yeah! Lucas is bisexual, and it’s fucking great, actually. He’s known he was bi since he was about seventeen years old, though looking back on it, Lucas really should’ve known sooner. Honestly, there’s a reason why he loved watching the Spider-Man movies when he was younger, and it’s not just because Zendaya stars in them.

Oh no. It’s because Zendaya and Tom Holland star in them.

Talk about the Gen Z bisexual’s dream.

Anyways, yeah, Lucas Sinclair is bisexual, and he’s out to everyone he knows and loves. He never had a big coming out or anything, but if people ask about it, he doesn’t hide it or anything. But personally, in Lucas’s opinion, no one should assume other people’s sexualities, so if people assume he’s straight, that’s on them.

It’s fun being bi, and it’s fun having a girlfriend who’s bi too. He and Max have been dating since they were just fourteen years old, so they’re more than comfortable walking down the streets together and commenting on different people they pass by. (Not in a creepy way, of course. God no. Lucas isn’t like that, and neither is Max.) 

It’s also fun having so many friends who are part of the queer community as well. Everybody in the Party is actually part of the queer community—Will is gay, El identifies as bisexual with a strong preference for women, Dustin is on the ace spectrum, and Mike currently identifies as queer, as he’s still trying to figure out what label (if any) fits him best. 

All of that to say, as a bi man, Lucas thinks he’s gotten pretty good at reading what is and what isn’t flirty behavior. For example, El and Max used to hold hands all the time when all of them were in high school. For some girls, that’s not flirty behavior. For those two though? It was definitely flirty behavior, and that’s exactly why the three of them are in a poly relationship now and have been for well over a year. 

Another example? Sometimes, Will likes to lean his head on Lucas’s shoulder. Sometimes, Lucas gives Will piggybacks, like he does with Max. Maybe in another life, they would’ve been flirting with each other, but Lucas is fairly certain their behavior is platonic.

Mostly.

Not that it even matters because here’s the thing: Will is head over fucking heels in love with Mike.

Here’s the other thing: Mike is head over fucking heels in love with Will.

And now for the final thing: the two of them are so fucking stupid that neither one of them even realizes it, even though they both flirt with each other worse than anyone Lucas has ever met.

Like… seriously, what the hell? What the actual hell? Mike and Will are practically dating, except that they’re not, and both of them have come to Lucas on separate occasions and rambled for literal hours about how much they like each other. But of course, both Will and Mike had made him promise not to say anything to the other person, and of course, Lucas can’t just break that promise, even if it would save them a lot of heartache and save himself a massive headache.

Tonight, though… Lucas is questioning his entire life. 

Everyone in the Party is over at Mike’s house tonight for a movie night, and like usual, they’re all squished together on the tiny couch in the basement and on the floor in front of the couch. They’re watching Tangled tonight, per El’s request since her birthday is in a little less than a week. It’s a sweet movie, and because it’s one of Max and El’s favorites, Lucas loves it a lot.

But he’s not really watching Tangled tonight.

Oh no, instead, Lucas keeps getting distracted by the fact that Mike and Will are literally cuddling on the floor in front of him. And yeah, okay, that’s nothing new. They both tend to be physically affectionate people, and other than the weird period of time when Mike and El were dating and he and Will weren’t really talking, they’ve always been physically affectionate with each other.

But tonight is just a new level of “affectionate,” and Jesus Christ, Lucas is going to rip his hair out.

First of all. 

First. Of. Fucking. All. 

Mike is sitting against the couch, and Will is literally sitting between his legs and leaning up against Mike’s chest. Mike has his arms wrapped around Will, and throughout the movie, Mike keeps leaning down and whispering things into Will’s ear that make Will laugh and smile like a complete idiot.

Second of all.

Second of all, Mike keeps absently playing with Will’s hair. Mike’s always been a fidgety person, so when he’s not holding Will’s hands, he’s playing with Will’s hair, all soft and gentle the way that Lucas is literally playing with Max’s hair. 

Third of all.

It’s the lantern scene.

It’s the fucking lantern scene now, and Rapunzel and Eugene are singing to each other and looking lovingly into one another’s eyes. Ordinarily, the scene is enough to make Lucas emotional, and sometimes, when he’s feeling extra sappy, he might even tear up, because he gets to thinking about Max and about how happy she makes him. Nowadays, he thinks about El too and how their relationship, however unusual it may be, also makes him incredibly happy.

But nope. Lucas can’t even enjoy his favorite scene in the whole damn movie, because he’s too distracted by the fact that Mike is staring at Will in the same way that Eugene keeps staring at Rapunzel but also by the fact that every single damn time Will turns to look at Mike in the same way Rapunzel stares back at Eugene, Mike just so happens to turn away.

They keep missing each other’s stupid, pining looks, and Lucas wants to cry. He’s going to lose his mind here. He really, really is.

The song continues to play, and Lucas glances down at Will and Mike again. Somehow, Will has shifted even closer to Mike, and Mike is whispering something in Will’s ear again that makes him smile.

…

Alright.

Enough is enough.

Lucas just wants to enjoy his damn movie, and he’s tired of his best friends being idiots. 

So, as slyly as he can, Lucas sits up, and he leans down, closer to Mike and Will now. “Hey,” he whispers, loud enough so only the two of them can hear.

Both Will and Mike turn to look at him, confused expressions on their faces. “Hey?” Mike asks, his brow furrowed. 

“You both want to kiss each other,” Lucas deadpans, and he watches as both his best friends stare at him in horror. “And don’t try to deny it, because you both have talked to me about it. Just… do us all a favor, and go make out or something. I can’t watch the damn movie because I’m too distracted by the fact that you’re literally flirting in front of all of us and are somehow too dumb to realize it.”

Both Will and Mike turn a bright shade of red, and they look at each other, their eyes wide. For a few moments, they do that silent little Mike and Will communication, and Lucas fights the urge to roll his eyes.

All at once, everything is different, Rapunzel and Eugene sing together, now that I see you. Now that I see you. 

Then, all at once, Will moves away from Mike, and he crawls towards the stairs, still holding Mike’s hand. Neither one of them stands up until they’re away from the TV, and without another word, they run up the stairs—presumably to go follow Lucas’s suggestion.

Fucking finally.

Lucas sighs, and he leans back onto the couch, wrapping his arm around Max’s shoulder again. She shifts closer to him, offering a wry smile, and she mutters, “About damn time. I told you that you should’ve just told them earlier.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Lucas rolls his eyes, leaning over and kissing his girlfriend’s temple. “I wanted to give them a chance to not be idiots and figure it out for themselves.”

“It’s Mike and Will,” Dustin points out, from his place on the beanbag. “When it comes to each other, they’re always going to be idiots.”

“Okay, that’s fair—”

“Shhhhh,” El hisses, glaring at both Lucas and Dustin. “Mike and Will are stupid. We knew this already. Now, be quiet. I’m trying to watch the movie.”

“Sorry,” Dustin says, and Lucas smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry, El,” he whispers, reaching over and rubbing her back lightly. “I’ll be quiet.”

El narrows her eyes playfully, but she smiles back at Lucas, leaning closer to both Max and Lucas. “I’ll forgive you,” she whispers. “But only because now I won’t have to listen to Will whine about Mike as much.”

A quiet laugh escapes Lucas’s lips, and he just smiles, leaning his head on Max’s shoulder. Likewise, El leans her head on Max’s other shoulder, and silence settles over the four of them as they continue to watch the rest of the movie.

Lucas will check in on Mike and Will… later.

Right now, he gets the feeling they want to be left alone.

[five-rivers]

Cult Division 1

A continuation of this series.

Cameron Daily ran Amity Park Police Department’s Cult Division.  

Phrasing it that was, honestly, pretty generous.  Ninety percent of the time it was him and his computer monitoring Amity Park’s religious social media and the Amity of Amity Park community forums.  Most of the time, the cults were harmless splinters of more established religions.  Just people trying to come to terms with the whole ‘ghosts are real’ thing.

Hell, technically speaking, he was part of a cult.  An extra dimension full of super powered and extremely violent dead people of various moralities wasn’t part of standard Episcopalian cosmology.

Anyway, most of the time his job was fairly laid back.  Low effort, low responsibility.  He did, however, have the ability to rope other people in if it looked like something bad was about to go down.  

Something was about to go down.  

Now, whether it was bad or not, he didn’t know, but since it was happening at midnight in the graveyard, he was going to play this cautiously.  Especially since the cult in question was one of the Phantom cults.  

Not to be judgemental, but the Phantom cults caused at least half of the cult problems.  From kidnapping Danny Fenton that one time to starting a fight with the more established churches over putting a religious statue of Phantom in Amity Park… okay, that was at least half on the Christians, but still.  The kidnapping thing still stood.

Plus, and he was saying this as someone who looked into a lot of cults, some of the Phantom cults were just downright creepy.  

Okay, anyway.  Time to call in help.  

“Hey!” he shouted across the room.  “Paterson!  Collins!  McGee!  I need your help with something!”

“I’m not interviewing any more cultists!” said Paterson.  “I’m out!”

“Stakeout and I’ll buy you pizza!”

“Changed my mind.  I’m in!”

.

McGee thought he was okay with stakeouts.  He was a detective.  Undercover.  It was one of the tools in his box.  Part of the package.  A stereotype, even.  He’d gotten used to them long ago.  

But stakeouts in the backseat of Collins’s car were something awful.  There was never enough room.  Ever since the Fentons had come out with the ‘Fenton Freshener’ the vehicle had smelled perennially of limes and ozone, which went poorly with the oregano on the pizza.  There was always the chance that a ghost might come along.

Having Daily squeezed back there with him only made it worse.

“Having us stay out all night because a teenager called in a tip seems like overkill.”

“Not just any teenager,” said Daily, “Sophia LaMar.  She’s connected.  I’ve also got red flags on a bunch of social traffic and some of the Amity of Amity boards.  This is the real deal.”

“I thought you kept getting kicked from the Amity of Amity boards.”

“Yeah, that’s because I was accessing it from the police station.  Apparently they have something programmed to weed out the GIW.  I monitor the Amity boards from home, now."  He made a face.  “I still sometimes get kicked, those guys are really insistent on not being monitored by law enforcement, but–”

The door opened, making everyone jump.

“Move over,” said Danny Fenton, prompting Daily to scoot further into McGee’s space.  

“How do you do that?” demanded McGee.  “Do your parents know where you are?  It’s eleven.”

“Don’t you get tired of reacting that way?” asked Danny, sliding into the seat Daily had just vacated.  “Do you know what’s going on?”

“No.  You?”

“Just that some of the cult kids were really antsy about something, and the occult side of the Amity forums kept talking about how special the date is.”  He made a face.  “I don’t get it.  It isn’t like there’s a planetary alignment or a meteor shower or anything.  It isn’t even a new moon or a full moon.”

“Not all special dates have to do with astronomy,” said Paterson, playing with her binoculars.  “Any other messages?”

“Phantom he’s going to be out here tonight, in case whatever is going on is more magic ritual than graverobbing.  He’d like you not to shoot at him if he has to go fight the cultists over some kind of slavery spell or something.”

“And if it is graverobbing?” asked Collins, putting his coffee in the cup holder.  

“He’d rather you guys take care of it before they start digging.”

“Sure thing.”

“Great.  I can’t hang aroun– Oh, is that the new jalapeno and pepperoncini pizza from Spectral Slices?”

“Triple cheese,” said Daily, apologetically.  

“Ah, well.  You should try the ghost chili one, it’s to die for.”  Fenton climbed out of the car.  “Have a good night!”

McGee waited for him to be a good deal away.  “Why does no one else think a teenager hopping into a car in the middle of a stakeout at almost midnight weird?”

“We do think it’s weird,” said Paterson.  “But he is a Fenton.”

“Yeah,” said Collins.  “You have to make allowances.”  He leaned forward.  “I see something.”

“Oh, they’re wearing robes.  That’s cute,” said Paterson.  McGee would have to take her word for it, because in the back he could see approximately nothing.  “Probably a bad sign, though.”

“You’re telling me,” said Daily.  “Robes mean rituals, ritual action, means they’re serious about this.”

“Aren’t all cults serious about what they do?” asked Paterson.

“Sure, but it raises the stakes.  Do you know how hard it is to get teenagers to stick to a dress code?  Mom couldn’t even stop my sister from going out in a crop top.  Did you know–”

“Cameron,” groaned Paterson, “we’re trying to focus on the cult.”

.

Danny watched the cultists from above.  He…  Okay, at first he’d thought that it was kind of fun, having cults.  Like a sort of fan club.  It was always nice to be appreciated.

Now, though?  Some, most, even, were still like fan clubs, but others were… pushy.  Always wanting things he couldn’t give them.  He tried to minimize interactions with them.  

He didn’t like the idea of one of those messing around with his grave.  Which.  You know.  Contained his dead body.  

Luckily, they didn’t seem to be breaking out any shovels or knives or weird books or chants.  Maybe they just wanted to say some prayers?

One of the cultists took out a large folded sheet from under their robe.  Were they having a picnic or something?  The cultists unfolded it.  

Danny had just enough time to see the circle sewn into it before he was suddenly in the midst of the cultists, floating above the circle.  

“Oh my gosh,” he said.  “Was I just summoned?  Was that what that was?”

The cultists start to celebrate.  

.

“Oh no,” said Collins as a very familiar dot of light appeared in the middle of the graveyard.  “Looks like things just went wrong.”

Paterson dropped her binoculars.  “Did he just get summoned?”

[thegettingbyp2]

Can you please do one with reader and Johnny where they go out to the bar with the rest of the cast and Rick and Jeff and there’s a creepy man (or woman y’never know) and he gets all protective of them, and reader shows him who she/they really love by going to the bathroom for a quickie?

<33

My Hero

Me and Johnny were the last to enter the bar. After we wrapped filming for Jackass Forever, we all decided that it was something worth celebrating so we’d all gone home to get cleaned up before meeting at the bar near set. Me and Johnny made our way through the bar, following the yells that came from our friends. We turned the corner to the area where everyone else was already well on their way to being drunk.

‘They’re here!’ Steve-O called out as Jeff came over to us, two shots of tequila in his hands.

‘You two have a lot of catching up to do,’ Jeff said, grinning when he saw my reaction to the bitter alcohol sliding down my throat.

Me and Johnny were able to catch up fairly quickly and were now seated on a sofa with Spike, talking about the film. Johnny had pulled me down to sit on his lap and currently had his arm wrapped around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder.

‘Love you,’ Johnny murmured into my neck in a tone so low that he knew I would be the only one to hear. Every now and then Johnny would turn into a soppy drunk where he would whisper sweetly in my ear and make the other guys moan at our PDA; I couldn’t help but love nights like those so I was just letting myself enjoy it.

‘Love you too,’ I said gently, turning my head to press a kiss to his cheek which made him hum happily and squeeze his arms around my waist tighter.

As the night progressed, Spike and Jeff started talking about Johnny’s upcoming jobs away from Jackass, so I decided to go and sit with Chris and the others; making sure that I was still in Johnny’s eye line so he wouldn’t worry. Chris was showing me new pictures he’d gotten of Axe when I felt the seat dip slightly next to me. I turned around to greet whoever it was (expecting someone like Steve-O) but my smile quickly faded as I saw a guy I didn’t know sitting there, smiling at me.

‘You okay?’ I asked, wondering if he was just looking for his friends.

‘I’m absolutely fine, sweetheart,’ he replied, the nickname I usually found so endearing when it came from Johnny’s lips made my skin crawl coming from this other guy. I turned back around to continue my conversation with Chris when I felt his hand land on my thigh, squeezing slightly and my head whipped back around to face him as I pulled my leg away from him.

‘Can I help you?’ I asked sharply, making it clear that I didn’t want him to touch me. Behind me, I felt Chris’ arm gently land on the small of my back, getting ready to step in if I needed him.

‘Well if you’re asking, sweetheart, I was expecting to have to buy you a drink first but if you want to get straight to it,’ he said, sliding even closer to me.

‘I’m good thanks.’

‘Oh come on, sweetheart, I’ll buy ya that drink if you want.’

‘She said no, man,’ Chris piped in, clearly getting pissed off himself at the guy. The looked over my shoulder at Chris, sizing him up in his head.

‘I’m sorry, we were having a conversation so if you could just butt out, I don’t see how this affects you,’ he said bluntly.

‘No but it affects me when my girlfriend tells you to leave her alone,’ Johnny said, standing in front of us, eyes dark and I felt a breath of relief escape my chest when I saw him. ‘Come here, doll,’ he said gently, holding his hand out towards me, eyes not leaving the other guy. Immediately I grabbed his hand and let him pull me up and tuck me into his side, a firm grip landing on my waist. I fisted my hand in the back of his shirt as he continued to stare at the guy.

‘Sorry dude, if I’d known she had a boyfriend, I would have put a stop to her coming onto me,’ he said with a smirk, not realising that Johnny had been watching the entire exchange. I couldn’t help the scoff that came from my throat and Johnny chuckled lightly, tightening his fingers on my waist.

‘You realise I saw everything that happened, I was only sitting over there,’ he said, pointing over to where Jeff and Spike were sitting and we watched the guys face drop. ‘So you should probably leave my girl alone.’

‘Your girl? Man come on, you’re old enough to be her dad,’ the guy exclaimed. ‘Surely you’d be doing her a service by giving her to me for the night.’

‘Giving her to you. You really need to leave now before I get you kicked out okay?’

Johnny’s face made the guy quickly get up and make his way out of the bar as I turned to curl into Johnny’s side slightly. ‘Thank you,’ I murmured as he dropped a kiss to the top of my head.

‘I’m not going to stand around and let someone try it on with my girl, am I?’

‘You’re my hero,’ I said gently, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

‘Oh yeah?’ he asked, pulling back slightly to look at me. I took his hand in mine and gently started tugging him with me towards the bathrooms in the bar, a look of recognition appearing on his face as his eyes darkened when he understood where we were going.

As soon as he got into the bathroom, I locked the door behind us and pulled his head down to connect our lips. It was a messy kiss that had our teeth clashing and our hands running up and down each others bodies. We broke the kiss to catch our breath and my head ducked into Johnny’s neck, pressing gentle kisses as his hands came out to my hips and pulled me roughly against him.

‘What’s this for, doll?’ he asked with a smirk on his face as he lifted me up to sit on the counter.

‘It was hot how you came to the rescue with that guy so I thought I’d show you just how grateful I am,’ I said, hooking my ankles around his waist and trailing my hands down to unbuckle his belt. Johnny quickly took over, pushing his trousers down enough to free his cock and he bunched my dress up around my waist and hooked his finger in the bottom of my panties, pulling them to the side as he lined up at my entrance.

‘Gotta say, doll, I love the reward,’ he said with a smirk as he pushed into me with one thrust, his head falling onto my shoulder as we both moaned at the feeling of finally being connected. My arms wrapped around his neck as his hands tightened on my hips, getting ready to pull back out and I knew I was going to have bruises in the morning. ‘You ready, doll?’ he asked, pulling out until only the tip was inside me.

‘Please,’ I whimpered into his neck as I squeezed my arms around him gently. He pressed a kiss to the side of my head before slamming back in, causing a loud cry to leave my mouth and Johnny connected our lips as a way to keep me quiet.

‘Gotta be quiet baby,’ he whispered against his mouth, chuckling lowly as he started pounding into me at a quick pace and I couldn’t stop the moans coming from my throat. It wasn’t long until I felt myself tip over the edge and I felt Johnny tip over at the same time, the both of us clinging to each other as if our lives depended on it. Johnny gently pulled out and pressed a kiss to my forehead before cleaning me up and helping me down from the counter. ‘God, you treat me so well, doll,’ he said when I stepped into his arms.

‘I love you,’ I said softly, looking up at him and blushing at the fond smile on his face.

‘I love you too. I’ll be your hero any day.’

‘You’re my hero every day.’