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notjustjavierpena · 1 day ago

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Parents

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Merry belated Christmas from me! I know this is my second Christmas fic this time around but I finally got the courage to write about Wife’s awful parents.

Summary: Javier puts his foot down during Christmas with your toxic family.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Toxic family dynamics, psychological abuse, childhood trauma, Christmas, conflict and confrontation, sobbing, declarations of love, hurt/comfort, body/fat shaming

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61942318

Parents

You get a call from your parents’ home number a few weeks before Christmas. Your mother and father haven't actually bothered seeing you since your wedding day last year but Lucas is four months old now and there’s suddenly a strange interest from them in being grandparents to your firstborn. Somehow, they talk you into spending Christmas with them and reassure you that they’ll take care of everything as long as you bring their grandson. The whole idea causes a ball of anxiety to settle in your stomach, almost imitating getting hit right in the solar plexus with how much your breath struggles to even out as you tell Javier about it. Your husband agrees reluctantly but not without raising a concerned brow, asking you several times - and with days between each time - if you are absolutely sure.

He even asks you now as he parks the car in your parents’ driveway, looking at you with a serious expression, brows furrowed while you sit stiffly in the passenger seat. You glance towards the front door, trying to act casual as if you’re staring at a wild animal who might pounce if it notices your anxiety. It is an odd feeling you get, staring at your childhood home but feeling more as if it is the scene of a crime. This house is not a memory of warm and fuzzy feelings but rather a place of constant criticism and unjust pain.

Javier says your name softly beside you. On the backseat, Lucas hiccups.

“Do I look okay?” You quickly ask instead of acknowledging the tone of his voice, fixing your hair without changing anything.

“Yeah,” he answers and tries not to comment on your nerves, “You look beautiful, mi amor (my love).”

The call from two weeks ago had your shoulders tensing up before you even answered the phone but the way they had reasoned you into revisiting the place of your hardest years has made your shoulders not come down again.

You sigh gently and unbuckle your seatbelt, “Okay. I can do this for just an afternoon. Let’s get this over with.”

You climb out of the car, Javier following you after carefully unbuckling Lucas and cradling him in one arm while balancing the diaper bag on the other shoulder. You leave his car seat, knowing how much easier it would have been to transport your son inside in it but Lucas has been fussy all night. You really wish he hadn’t because you don’t want to go inside with only half the energy that a good night’s sleep could have provided.

As you ring the doorbell, you take a look at Javier one last time, “Please don’t interfere. I don’t want to make everyone uncomfortable.”

“Baby, are you sure that—“

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother exclaims when she opens the door with a syrupy smile, “We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“Sorry. Life with a baby and all,” you shake your head with an embarrassed chuckle and try to ignore the tension in your muscles, shrugging your coat off your shoulders to reveal your wine-red button-up and dark skirt.

“Honey, I thought you knew we always dress up a little during the Holidays,” your mother says while glancing at your outfit with veiled disdain, “Where’s that nice blue dress? With the ribbons?”

“This is all that fits me right now, that isn’t maternity clothes,” you answer apologetically at the first jab of many. Beside you, Javier takes a step closer to you without saying anything.

“Anyway! Where’s the little man?” Your mother chirps, already having moved on and looking to Lucas who has started stirring in Javier’s arms. When she gets closer, about to reach out to run a hand over his little head, Lucas immediately starts whimpering as if he is aware of the unpleasantries that his mother has had to endure at the mercy of this woman. He knows the culprits before they’ve even revealed themselves.

“Oh, he’s a little fussy, isn’t he?” She laughs it off and retreats much to your relief, letting Javier bounce your son to make him settle down again. When he quietens down again, you share a glance with your husband who signals that everything is okay. You take a deep breath and let him handle the situation.

“Where’s Dad?” You ask to turn your attention away from your crying child, smoothing out a nonexistent crease in your skirt.

“I think he’s just about to get the turkey out of the oven,” your mother says, wagging a finger in Lucas’ face with a little smile, “Why don’t you go say hi and I talk to my grandson for a moment? Oh, look at you, Lucas! You’re just perfect, aren’t you?”

You reluctantly leave the three of them to head for the kitchen. You can feel each family photograph staring back at you as you walk through the hallway to your destination; a picture of your five-year-old self on a bike but somehow no picture of your graduation ceremony as if it has been decided where things went wrong before you could acknowledge it yourself.

“Hey Dad, smells so good in here,” the kitchen does indeed smell wonderfully as you walk through the door. Your father looks at you over his shoulder, giving you a little smile and you try not to think about how he didn’t bother to come out to greet you.

“Mom and I were wondering if you were ever coming,” he notes while plating pieces of turkey meat. In the hallway, you can hear Javier striking up polite conversation. He’s handling your mother with his usual calmness, and you feel grateful for his presence yet embarrassed that you aren’t strong enough to handle it yourself.

You shrug a little, Javier’s presence giving you the courage to try and mirror said calmness, “Newborns, you know.”

“He’s four months,” he corrects.

“Right, time flies,” you reply with your confidence fading fast, the words coming out in a way that doesn’t quite carry the quick wit that Javier usually loves about you. You touch your arm, standing awkwardly by the counter, “Still figuring it out as we go.”

Your father doesn’t turn around, “Parenting’s not rocket science, you know. Your mother and I managed just fine without all the made-up nonsense you young people talk about these days.”

You jump a little as your mother puts a hand on your shoulder and says your name to get your attention. You look back at her, “Can you set the table? I put the tablecloth ready on the silverware cabinet.”

“Sure, Mom,” you smile, already heading for the dining room to escape from your father’s subtle judgments. You find Javier has already gone, an irrational thought popping into your head of how he has bolted and left you to deal with your mom and dad by yourself.

You glance into the kitchen as you start placing the plates in each of their respective places, “Where’s Javier?”

“He went to get the presents from the car,” your mother replies from the kitchen. You hear her take out a serving bowl from a cabinet.

“Oh, I should go help him wi—“

“He’s your husband, sweetie. Let him handle it. There’s no need to emasculate him like that,” she is suddenly in the doorway, staring you down in a way that makes your hands shake. Her gaze drops to the table and her brows furrow, “You’re using the wrong plates!”

You look up with a racing heartbeat, “What?”

She sighs your name audibly, “These aren’t the Christmas plates. We don’t use regular plates for special occasions. Honestly, I thought you’d know better.”

The words sting and you set down the plates you have been holding in case the littlest twitch will make you drop it onto the floor, “Sorry, Mom.”

“Ah well, now you’ll never forget it,” she jokes without humor in her voice as she opens the door to the china cabinet, pulling out the plates adorned with what you recognize to be hand-painted holly. You shamefully realize you know them from childhood Christmases and that they are exactly where they’ve always been.

Automatically, you gather the wrong plates to make room for the right ones. It’s Christmas, you remind yourself as you do it. It is one day. You can survive one day.

“See? Isn’t this much better?” She says cheerfully when your mistake has been corrected and while you nod, Javier reenters the house.

He joins the two of you, carrying a large gift bag in one hand and holding Lucas on the other arm. You immediately go to take him, doing a careful transfer until you can lay his tiny body against your shoulder while supporting his bottom.

“¿Todo bien? (Everything okay?)” Javier asks quietly when you follow him into the living room where the tree stands. He sets down the bag and tries to act casual, laying out the gifts and waiting for your honest response in the meantime. Apparently, you haven’t been as successful in hiding the distress on your face as you thought you had.

You force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes and Lucas starts whining again. You bounce him gently, “It’s nothing. Just… Christmas stuff.”

Javier glances toward the hallway to the kitchen where your parents’ voices can be heard faintly over the sounds of cooking. His jaw tightens slightly and his mouth becomes a thin line.

“Don’t,” you say as firmly as you can muster because you wish he would, “It’ll only make it worse.”

“Dame un beso (give me a kiss),” he says instead, and you shyly lean in to peck him on the lips. Afterward, he pulls back but only after stroking Lucas’ back, “You’re both doing great, okay? Don’t let them get in your head.”

You are interrupted by your mother’s voice ringing out from the dining room, telling you that dinner is ready. Javier kisses you one last time before reassuring you that everything will be okay and that he is in your corner. You try to smile, tense as you take a seat with Lucas still in your arms.

The Christmas meal begins with polite conversation, your father asking Javier about work and your mother telling you about neighbors that you haven’t spoken to in years. You mostly just speak when spoken to, having decided to focus on your baby as he keeps wriggling in your arms in discomfort. You try to rub his belly, try to make him settle by giving him your attention but still, his tiny face crumbles and he lets out a string of small complaints.

“Maybe we could open presents while he naps?” You suggest hesitantly when your mother has given you enough judgemental advice, “He’s been so fussy all night, and I don’t want him to get more overwhelmed than he—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” your mother says your name with a sigh. You hear Javier’s chair scrape against the floor, almost as if he is about to get up and get ready for a physical altercation.

“Let’s do whatever is easiest for the baby,” your father interrupts, placing a hand on your mother’s wrist. Her annoyance shines through her eyes but she nods with a smile nonetheless.

“Of course,” you hear her grit out, “It’s just… We’d love to spend time with him. We’ve already missed so much, and Luke needs his grandparents.”

“We’ll see,” Javier answers for you.

The dinner continues in mostly silence with turkey being substituted by pie, cutlery clinking against plates, and glasses being lifted and set down again. There’s tension so thick that it can be cut with a knife, your mother glancing at Lucas with a smile before it disappears from her face when she shifts her gaze to your direction.

Mercilessly, she finally speaks, “So, honey, have you thought about when you’ll start losing the baby weight?”

“Mom!” You exclaim in shock, surprised that sound comes out when your throat feels like it is about to close up completely.

In the same manner as one would spit out a drink in shock, Javier’s fork scrapes unpleasantly against his plate, and suddenly, your mother’s name falls from his lips like the sound itself leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth. She looks startled by the interruption, almost like a deer in the headlights of a car, but it doesn’t faze your husband, “My wife looks beautiful and she has just given me - us - the greatest gift which is our son. Let’s not diminish that, shall we?”

You try to feel the weight of Lucas against your chest instead of how you don’t feel safe within this house, with its bruises on the walls and its ghosts of a youth spent walking on eggshells. Lucas’ body is warm, a reminder that this doesn’t matter. He matters.

“I’m focused on taking care of my son right now, Mom,” you reply coolly with your lips resting on the soft hairs on Lucas’ head.

“Right, of course. I didn’t mean anything by it,” your mother argues, clearly flustered, “You know how important it is to stay healthy for the baby.”

“Your mother just wants what’s best for you, honey,” your father intervenes, trying to steer the conversation onto friendlier and safer topics but she has already gotten up from her seat.

“Why don’t I clear the table so we can move into the living room and open presents?” She mumbles, putting on a show by letting her voice waver. She has begun stacking plates before anyone can even say anything, practically fleeing the room and leaving you all looking slightly sheepish. Javier hides the roll of his eyes exceptionally well and he smiles when you catch him.

“I’ll put Lucas down for a nap,” you announce to what is left of the party.

Javier gets up alongside you to help you. He walks upstairs right behind you, a calming presence with the diaper bag in hand as you head for the guest room.

When you close the door behind the three of you, the tension seeps out of your body at having a quiet moment with your boys. The lighting in the room is soft and calming, almost making you want to lie down to nap with your son.

“There we go,” you say as you gently place Lucas on the bed while Javier rummages through the bag for his pacifier. Lucas blinks up at you, his tiny fists balled and his chubby legs kicking excitedly. He lets out a happy gurgle.

“Oh, now you’re happy,” you tease softly and kneel by the bed to rub his tummy, “Picky with who we’re smiling at, are we?”

Javier joins you by the bed and offers Lucas his pacifier. Your son stretches his arms and reaches for his father, letting out a high-pitched giggle around the pacifier. However, as he suckles gently, accompanied by your soft touch that has now moved to his chubby cheeks too, his eyelids start to grow heavy.

When his breaths have slowed, you do whatever you can with the pillows to create a safe space for him to sleep. You create a barrier around him, ensuring as well as possible that he won’t roll over.

“You know, you’d think that they would have set up a crib for him if they’re so desperate to see him,” you murmur bitterly as you adjust the last pillow.

“You sure you want to go back down there?” Javier asks carefully.

“Can you grab the baby monitor?” You ignore his question at first but Javier is already handing you the monitor, ruining your attempt at not addressing the situation further. You sigh and get up from the floor, “I can get through it. If it’ll make them stop pestering me for a visit for a while.”

“I swear, one more word out of her mouth and I’ll open my own,” Javier says with anger simmering just beneath the surface. He drags you into his arms when you stand up again, hears your sigh of relief at being squeezed. It calms your nervous system so effectively that you slump.

“Believe me, I feel like I am going insane,” you whisper into his neck and shoulder, grabbing aimlessly at his strong frame and inhaling his scent. He returns the desperate touch by simply rubbing your back in slow circles.

“Yeah, I don’t know how you stay so calm,” he kisses your temple a few times.

“Trust me, humans can endure a lot when they know there’s a time limit,” you chuckle humorlessly and pull away, “Let’s just do the gift exchange and leave.”

Downstairs, your parents are waiting for you by the tree. The collection of presents is sparse this year due to the short notice but you find it relieving to know that the gift exchange will be over quickly.

Placing the baby monitor on the coffee table, you sit down on the sofa but don’t allow yourself to relax into it. Javier drops down beside you but leans back into his seat, his hand resting casually on your thigh to ground you.

“Let’s get to the gifts. It’ll be nice to end this day on a happy note,” your mother says overly cheerfully, pretending to have forgiven and forgotten all about the situation earlier. She reaches for the first gift under the tree while your father stands ready with a bag for the wrapping paper.

“That’s mine,” Javier tells her with a little smirk in your direction. He holds out his hand until she gives it to him, “To my beautiful wife. Merry Christmas, baby.”

“How thoughtful,” your mother mumbles and sits on the edge of her armchair.

“Javi, I thought we weren’t on gifts this year,” you scold playfully but there’s no seriousness to your voice. You finally smile and this time it is genuine, feeling his gaze on you while you impatiently rip the wrapping.

“I know what I said but I know you’ll love it. It’s more for Lucas anyway,” he informs you shyly.

Inside, you find two pairs of identical fuzzy and comfortable socks with a dinosaur print on them. However, one pair fits Lucas’ tiny feet and the other fits yours. Your whole demeanor changes with the sight of your gift, your face lighting up with a bright smile, “These are so cute!”

“For your cold feet. Thought you could use something cozy while you take care of Luke at home,” he moves his hand to rest just above the small of your back, his palm smoothing over you on top of the fabric of your blouse.

Your parents sit idly by. They stare at the gift with confusion and arrogance, clearly holding their tongue over how ridiculous they find it. Your mother picks at her fingers, “Interesting.”

“Interesting? Aren’t they adorable?” You hold the matching socks up happily, not sure what to expect but not even your mother’s judgmental expression can bring you down right now. To really rub it in, you kiss Javier’s mouth gently in front of them, “Gracias, esposo (Thank you, husband).”

But the happiness is short-lived as your father goes to get the next present from the small pile. He searches for a moment amongst the few there are, deliberately seeking out the present that you have brought them, most likely to be able to leave the room soon due to the obvious tension. He has never been one to intervene.

“You shouldn’t have,” your mother tuts with a small smile as she carefully unwraps it in her lap, her fingers doing everything they can to not tear the paper so she can reuse it.

When the framed picture of Lucas is revealed - a photo taken during an afternoon when he was particularly happy and smiling - her smile develops into a slightly wider one even if it looks against her will. She studies the picture with your father looking over her shoulder.

“We thought you’d like something to remember him by,” you encourage her to say something.

Your mother places the photo on the coffee table, her hands smoothing out the wrapping paper while she talks, “It’s lovely, sweetie. Though I’m sure we’d have more memories if we got to see him more often.”

You tense up beside Javier. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him do the same but he squeezes your hip to tell you that he is right there. Anxiously, you curl your fingers into your skirt but your mother isn’t finished.

“I just don’t understand why you’ve been so distant,” she continues, cold in her tone. “You hardly call, which would be fine but you visit even less than that, and now you’re letting Lucas sleep through his first Christmas. It’s not like you’ve gone back to work, so what is it?”

“Mom, please,” you say quietly but it doesn’t veil the wavering of your words, “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Are you?” She challenges, “Lucas has been fussing all night, hasn’t he? Maybe he’s picking up on your stress.”

You hear Javier say your mother’s name as he had during dinner, low and with warning. At the same moment, the baby monitor crackles with the sound of Lucas’ tiny complaints. The sound pulls you from your seat, your instincts to go to him overriding your desire to defend yourself from further abuse. However, your mother’s voice rings out behind you just as you take your first step.

She rolls her eyes, “Oh, just let him cry a little. You’ll make him clingy if you keep running to him every time he whimpers.”

You stop in your tracks, finally turning around to look her in the eye with your own eyes narrowed. You can see Javier watching you closely while you talk, “Mom, if he cries, he needs me.”

According to you, she has already gone too far but it seems that she cannot stop once she has started, “You know, you really should stop babying him so much. He needs to learn to self-soothe.”

Tears of frustration start to build in your chest and you can feel the muscles of your throat start to tighten as they rise to your eyes, “Jesus Christ, Mom, I’m not going to stop babying my baby.”

Her final blow comes out with a deliberate intention to hurt you, “There you go overthinking again and snapping at your mother. He is whimpering. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how Javier puts up with it. You can be such a bitch when you’re stressed.”

The room falls dead silent and the first tear escapes your eye at the cruel nickname… then a second and then a third until you start to cry silently and hopelessly. You suddenly feel like a teenager again, suffering from forced proximity. Your father opens his mouth but nothing comes out, seemingly not able to figure out how to defend his wife for once. It is the final straw for Javier.

“What did you just say?” He firmly cuts through the silence. He has gotten up from his seat and has stepped in front of you to shield you protectively from your mother’s line of sight. His nostrils flare with anger that might explode into rage at any moment but he keeps his voice steady, “You better not have said what I think you did or I am wondering why you haven’t apologized already.”

Your mother’s eyes widen at the idea of consequences. She splutters, caught off guard, “Apologize? Javier, don’t be ridiculous! I’m her mother—“

Javier laughs dangerously and condescendingly and looks away with a roll of his eyes. He shakes his head, not afraid to let the room know that he thinks she sounds pathetic without even calling her out on it. He crosses his arms over his chest, “You got a hell of a way of showing motherly love then; all you have done is tear her down today.”

“Javier,” your father tries to interject, “Let’s not make this into a scene.”

“No,” Javier turns to him, his jaw muscles flexing slightly underneath his skin with how much anger is flowing through him. The simple word makes your father sit up straighter than before - a testament to Javier’s days in Colombia - but Javier is not done, “You don’t get to lecture me about making a scene. Not after sitting there and letting this happen. She is your daughter.”

When your father has shut his mouth, looking uncomfortable by his defeat while he leans back into his seat with no intention to follow up on his words, Javier’s fury settles on your mother once more, “What’s your goal here, exactly?”

You’re aware that it isn’t just a simple few tears falling from your eyes anymore but rather a silent stream that has your face puffy and sensitive. It is accompanied by grief over your younger self not having had someone like Javier in her corner. You sniffle audibly, feeling as if you have been punched in the gut with how much it hurts and humiliates you to sit idly by. Your mother catches a glimpse of you behind your husband but it doesn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever.

“There’s no secret agenda here, for God’s sake. I didn’t mean anything by it,” she sneers, trying to keep her demeanor straight despite the humiliation of getting called out being evident on her face.

“Yes, you did,” Javier argues immediately and fiercely, pointing his index finger at her in an accusing manner, “You knew exactly what you were saying. You wanted her to hurt. Well congratulations, you’ve succeeded. Unfortunately, your daughter is a lot nicer than me and handled your words with a lot more grace than you deserve. I will not be doing the same thing.”

Your mother’s composure falters. She says your father’s name helplessly but he looks at her with tired eyes, full of quiet disappointment. Even if he is absent and passive like always, his refusal to intervene further is a sign that he would never go as far as his wife has just done. He shakes his head in disapproval, “Why’d you do it? We were having such a nice time too.”

She gapes at your father while his gaze drops to his lap, shrinking herself slightly at the realization that she is outnumbered and has to face your husband alone. Javier takes a step closer, radiating authority when she tries to avoid further confrontation, distaste so clear on his face for how he has lost her attention for a moment. When you let out a quiet sob, too paralyzed in your spot on the couch to go to your whimpering child, his face hardens further and he continues, “Listen to me.”

Your mother looks up reluctantly. She appears to be on the brink of an attempt to turn his words against him and argue right back once more, but Javier cuts her off before she can even start.

“You don’t talk to her like that again. Ever. And you most certainly do not question her ability to be a mother. She is a perfect mother and God knows, she hasn’t gotten it from you. Lucas is a happy, healthy, and thriving baby because of her,” he takes a breath, and for a second, it seems like he might be done but then, “You hurt my girl, you understand that? And if you ever speak to her like that again - actually if you even speak about her like that again - I will personally make sure you don’t get to have Lucas in your life.”

“Are you threatening us?” Her composure slips even more.

“No, ma’am, I am instructing you,” he replies coldly, “If you can’t respect his mother, we’re done here.”

Javier turns to you now, his face softening immediately at the sight of you sitting teary-eyed on the couch with your hands clutching the baby monitor. He says your name so softly, a sound that has always felt like an unfamiliar and unwelcome sound within this house, and gently pulls the piece of technology out of your hands.

“Listen to me, baby. Go wait in the car. I’ll get Lucas and his things,” he instructs you, placing the baby monitor on the coffee table behind him without looking away from you. He helps you to stand when you find yourself nodding.

When you’re up from your seat, he puts a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let you linger in the room.

“You don’t have to leave,” your mother protests with obvious surprise that you and Javier are carrying out the promise of consequences. She begins pushing herself to stand.

“Sit down, I will not let you disturb any of the peace she has left,” he commands harshly when she tries to take a step toward you.

Your mother falters, stunned by his audacity, and sinks back into her seat.

The moment you’re out of the front door, your legs start shaking so badly beneath you that you aren’t sure if you’ll even make it to the car. The walk feels endless, like climbing a mountain, the neighborhood surrounding your childhood home quiet because everyone is inside with the happy family that you never got to have growing up.

Until now. You have it now. However, you have left them to fend for themselves on the battlefield to slide into the front seat of the car. You rub your chest as it feels tight but it soothes nothing and suddenly, the tears come harder than they had in the living room. You rest your head against the glass window, screwing your eyes shut and feeling drips of hot tears on your cheeks.

Memories come flooding and you have no power to stop them, pictures of many nights spent in solitude in your room because it was the only illusion of sanctuary in the house before you. The sound of your mother’s scoffs, her unbearable ability to make you feel small, inadequate, and unwanted. Her year-long cruelty feels like a knife in your chest but your father’s silent complicity twists its blade too, makes you think that you were never worthy of defending.

Yet Javier had done it so effortlessly, had done what you’d wished someone would have done for you in your entire life, and he had done it without any hesitation. You are shattered by another night believing the worst about yourself, yes, but you realize that a part of your sobs comes from relief too. Suddenly, it all feels silly and you don’t know why you have always stopped Javier from speaking up for you since you met because his words - she is a perfect mother - have taken the power out of your mother’s incredibly fast.

You hear the front door open and a shaky sob leaves you at seeing the two of your boys approach the car. Javier has the diaper bag over his shoulder whilst cradling Lucas against his chest, his face serious. He moves in long strides to get to you fast, not saying anything as he buckles Lucas’ sleeping form into his car seat before climbing into his own seat in the front.

You sit up again, eyes still brimming with tears that streak your face. You feel overwhelmed like you have run a marathon or fought a bear or a monster.

Javier puts on his seatbelt but doesn’t put the key in the ignition yet. He looks out of the windshield for a moment, breathes a sigh of relief. The car is quiet except for Lucas’ soft breaths as he sleeps.

Right until Javier says your name when you don’t automatically turn your head to look at him, ashamed of how the day has progressed. It is Christmas, after all, and Lucas’ first one ever too.

“Mírame (Look at me),” he says in a gentle murmur.

You shake your head, unable to answer with how tightly wound you are. You feel his hand under your chin, carefully pulling you by your chin until your eyes meet his. His outline is blurry from all the tears but his voice cuts through the fog in gentle firmness.

“I love you so much, and I love our son, okay?” He says it like it is a promise, “They aren't ever gonna to talk to you like that again because I won't allow them to. Do you understand me?”

You silently look at him through your tears, nodding weakly. He reaches to brush your tears away with a knuckle.

“Everything’s gonna be okay because you don’t have to see them if you don’t want to. You just have to let me take care of you,” he continues and cups your cheek instead, “And right now, I say you’re done with them for tonight. Actually, for as long as you fucking want.”

“I want… I don’t…” You say at first but then, “I’m sorry.”

Javier furrows his brows, “Why are you sorry?”

“Because that’s my mom,” you try to speak around a fresh sob, “And you married me and I trapped you with my fucked up family.”

“Hey, heyheyhey,” he shakes his head, moving his other hand to cup your whole face now. He leans over the console of the car and rests his forehead against yours. When you simply cry harder, he pulls you into a hug, “You didn’t trap me, okay? You didn’t. I’m here because you make me happy. You make me so happy, baby, and Hell knows, I needed a bit of taking care of when you met me. Let me return the favor.”

His body is warm, soothing, and grounding. His embrace squeezes you hard enough to make you calm down, giving you a moment of quiet peace in your mind as you begin to take in his words. You feel the same. You want to say it but you’re afraid that you’ll never stop crying tonight, so instead you find the courage to say those words that you should have told yourself years ago, “I don’t think I want to go back.”

“What do you want to do then?” Javier pulls back to look at you. He moves back into his own seat again and starts the car to give you time to think clearly about his question.

“Can we go to your dad’s?” You ask hesitantly.

Javier’s brows rise slightly but he doesn’t argue, just nods as he puts the car in reverse. Before reversing out of the driveway, he pulls you in to kiss your forehead softly.

“Claro, mi amor (Sure, my love),” he says simply, “He’d love to see us.”

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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myclovernew · 2 days ago

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player 333 (myung-gi) x fem!reader

⟢ pairing: myung-gi x fem!reader (basically replacing junhee as player 222 sorry jo yuri my queen)

⟢ fluff but a little steamy near the end...

⟢ word count: 4k

⟢ a/n: hai everyone this is my first ever fic here on tumblr and i haven't written anything in over four years so i apologize if the writing is terrible LOL

the annoyingly cheerful music blaring at what felt like 7 in the morning woke me up. the last thing i could remember before falling asleep was getting into a white semi-van driven by a man in a red hoodie whose face i couldn't quite make out. so where in the hell was i now?

blinking a couple times before rubbing one eye, i slowly slid up to the point where i could feel the cold, metal backboard of the bed you were in through the thin polyester jacket i had on. that's when i realized i was in a completely different outfit than the one i had on the night before. looking around, i noticed others slowly waking, everyone in the same outfit as mine with only a slight difference. you were all numbered, and my number was 222.

a guy who was in the bed directly in front of mine started waking up at that moment, mumbling something incoherent to himself and then letting out a huge sigh. the number on the back of his jacket was 333. only when he turned slightly to his left is when i realized; i'd recognize that side profile anywhere.

"lee my-" before i could even finish calling out his name, the speaker sent out feedback indicating the start of something unknown. everyone was awake at this point, walking towards the center pool of people.

that's when an alarm went off, and an automatic door let in a group of eerily mysterious people dressed in pink jumpsuits, their faces covered by black masks with either squares or circles painted on them in white.

"i would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you," one of the square guards started. i was watching from the foot of my bed, trying to scan the crowd to navigate that piece of shit. i can't believe that asshole is here too, i thought to myself while half paying attention to whatever the square guy is saying.

"everyone here will participate in six different games over six days." games? what are we in, grade school? "those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize."

now that's what i wanted to hear. when that salesman looking guy approached me a week ago, he had me play a game of ddakji, which i was a natural at. so of course i beat him on the first round. he gave me 100,000 won as a prize and a rustic brown business card with only a number on the back. i debated on calling the ominous number for days on end, but the final straw was having all 58 of my calls to that asshole myung-gi ignored. he had "borrowed" 500,000 won from me to kickstart a stock he was investing in and just never paid me back. a couple of weeks after was when i found out his dumbass had led a bunch of his stream viewers to invest in the wrong coin, causing a lot of not-so-happy, middle aged men struggling to make ends meet to go after him.

anyway, i was determined to make him pay.

a couple of people from the huge crowd started yelling out remarks, demanding for answers.

"what happened to my clothes?" "did you kidnap us?" "why are you wearing a mask?" "show your face!"

then one person started asking for their phone, insisting that they had to check the crypto market.

"player 333, lee myung-gi," the square guard had declared. my head immediately snapped up, eyes glued to the screen that had just turned on. a video of myung-gi started playing and it was him being embarrassingly bad at the same game of ddakji i had played with the salesman. i couldn't help but laugh to myself as hundreds of people watched him get slapped, how humiliating.

"current debt levels, 1.8 billion won." oh you had to be joking.

that made the measly 500,000 won he owed me look like nothing. no wonder he was ignoring my calls, the loser had absolutely no means of paying me back, let alone getting rid of his own debt.

i lost sight of myung-gi when the guards had us line up and sign what looked like a consent form to play the games. it seemed a bit excessive, but i guess they had to keep it all professional. we then had our photos taken before being led up multiple flights of pink, maze-like stairs.

all at once, three giant doors opened up to a large, sand-filled area. the guards instructed us to go in and stand behind the red line drawn on the ground. at the very end of the field was an enlarged cartoonish doll. what could we possibly be doing here?

i looked around for myung-gi again, hoping to catch him by surprise when he saw my face afters months of ignoring me.

"the first game is red light, green light," a woman's voice iterated through the speakers. red light, green light? i hadn't played that since i was a kid. "cross the finish line before the five minutes are up. if you do, you pass."

this honestly felt like a joke. why were we getting paid to play children's games?

"everyone!" i squinted my eyes to see a middle-aged man, his number being 456, run to the middle of the crowd. "everyone, pay attention!" he was waving his arms like a mad man to try and get everyone to listen to him.

"this is not just a game!" what?

"if you lose, you die!" there's no way that was true. did he mean get eliminated? they wouldn't really kill us, would they? i looked around to watch everyone else's expressions. some started visibly shaking, others shaking their heads in pure disbelief.

at that moment, the robotic doll turned around and put her hand up to her eyes.

"let the game begin."

the first "red light, green light" was said and everyone began to move. as soon as the doll stopped to look around, i stayed as still as possible. the man from earlier was still yelling at everyone to freeze, and something in me started to believe in what he was saying about the game. as i froze in place, i scanned the people around me. 239, 009, 176, 028, and 333. found you.

the next "red light, green light" played and i ran towards myung-gi. he might've been a crypto bro who practically lived at the pc cafe, but damn he was a fast runner. the next couple of "red light, green light's" went off and i was just about a feet behind him now. that's when a loud "bang" echoed throughout the hall. a gun shot. more gun shots sounded, followed by ear-piercing screams. stay still, stay still, i thought to myself.

then it went silent. everyone who was still alive was frozen in their places, not even moving when the doll said "red light, green light." my eyes focused on myung-gi. he was breathing so heavily i could hear him.

"red light, green light." the man from earlier, player 456, was the only one to move as he ran past all of us. "red light, green light." he moved a bit further, with his back facing us.

"the doll detects motion," he yelled out as he had one hand behind his back, moving it around to prove what he was saying was true. so as long as the doll couldn't physically see me moving, i would be fine.

"we're running out of time. we have to move!" shit.

"red light, green light." everyone moved then, finding someone bigger than them to hide behind. i was still behind myung-gi, who i admit was shorter than most guys here, but then again so was i. we were almost by the finish line, with a little less than a minute left.

"red light, green light." we moved again in a synced matter. but just as the doll was about to turn her head, myung-gi tripped on someone's foot. he's going to die, i thought. without thinking, i put out my arm, and grasped onto the back of his jacket.

"don't. move," i whisper-yelled, my teeth gritting against each other. myung-gi didn't make a sound.

"red light, green light," i let go and he regained his balance, the two of us crossing the finish line. i bent over, my hands resting on my knees as i tried to breathe normally again.

"y/n?" myung-gi questioned. i looked back up to him, scanning his face. as much as he was confused as to why i was here, he also looked relieved to see a familiar face.

"aren't you going to thank me?" i retorted. i did just save his life.

"oh, yeah," he said, his hand reaching the back of his head, "thank you. seriously." i sighed and gave him a slight nod. frankly, i was too exhausted and too desperate to get out of this place to even demand for my money back from him right now. he opened his mouth again, like he had something to say, but got quickly distracted by the ceiling of the arena slowly closing in. the game was over.

the guards had us all walk back into the room we woke up in. it was eerily quiet; people were scared for their lives. i just wanted to go home. i didn't even care about the money anymore. why would any of this even matter if i didn't make it out alive?

everyone made it back inside as the guards followed behind the last couple of players, stopping in front of the door they first walked out of. some of the players ran down to the middle of the floor and started kneeling to the ground, rubbing their hands profusely, begging to be saved.

"we are not trying to hurt you. we are only presenting you with an opportunity," the square guard declared.

"clause three of the consent form!" i turned around to look at the player that yelled this out. it was the same man that was helping everyone in the last game, player 456. "the games may be terminated upon a majority vote. correct?"

oh thank god. we actually had a chance at getting out of here before they had us all killed.

that's when the room went dim, and a golden piggy bank was slowly let down from the ceiling. even i was mesmerized, my eyes glued to the stacks of money falling into it. the guard then explained there was a sum of 9.1 billion won in the bank, and if we all wanted to leave now, it would be split by all current players. murmurs erupted, some people wanting to stay and play more games for the sum to rise, while others still wanted to leave.

"now, let's begin the vote."

the guards started calling out player numbers, starting from the last number, 456. the first vote was an X. each player received a tag with either an X or an O, indicating what they had voted for.

"player 333." i watched as myung-gi emerged from the crowd, and walked towards the buttons. i swear to god.

the sound of the button went off and so did a flash of blue light. he picked O.

he barely even made it through the first game without my help, yet he wanted to stay and continue playing? i scoffed to myself, he really did only care about himself.

"player 222." it was finally my turn. i walked up to the voting stand, confident in my answer. i hit the X button and received my tag. walking back to the group of other X voters, i looked over at myung-gi standing on the opposite side who was also watching me from afar. i narrowed my eyes and made a face full of utter disgust and disappointment, then looked away. in that moment, i regretted saving him at all.

the voting ended shortly, the O's winning by one point. we really had to stay and play another game. it was absurd to me, all these people being blinded by the money after seeing firsthand how one wrong move could literally get you killed.

food service happened after the voting and each person was given a meal. i walked back to my bed and opened up the metal box to find a layer of white rice, topped with an egg, sausage, and picked radish. it honestly wasn't bad at all. i was eating peacefully before myung-gi walked up, holding out his box of food and resting his arms on the foot of my bed.

"you want the radish? i know it's your favorite," i looked up at him, mid-chew of a mouthful of rice and egg. the radish was my favorite, but i was surprised he remembered that at all. without saying anything back, because i was still mad at him, i took the pieces of radish out of his box and put it in mine.

"are you mad at me?" i looked up from my food again. he could not be serious. we were making eye contact now, but the purple-ish, blue ring forming around his left eye caught my attention.

"what happened to your eye?" i asked, ignoring his initial question. i don't even know why i brought it up, i could care less about this asshole.

"don't worry about it." say less! i went back to eating my food, myung-gi still hovering, waiting for the answer to his question. i gave him a "what?" look with a shoulder shrug and seems like he took that for an answer because he turned back around and started walking away without saying another word.

i looked toward his direction ever so often after finishing up my meal. he really was a loser and didn't have anyone else here, not even someone to team up with. he sat straight up on his bed, poking at the rice with his spoon. a couple of hours passed by, and it was soon bedtime. the lights in the room dimmed and everyone was in their beds by this point. i pulled the thin cotton blanket over me and readjusted my pillow so it was leaning a bit against the bed board. i lay there on my back with my hands intertwined across my chest, closed my eyes and desperately tried to fall asleep. but it was one of those nights where your eyes were sleeping, and your body wasn't. hours passed and i was still awake. i tried turning to my side, readjusting my pillow again, but nothing worked. at a loss, i just kept my eyes open and stared at the bottom of the bed above mine.

the older gentleman to my right was snoring like there was no tomorrow, and a woman in her mid-20s to my left kept turning around every 5 minutes. even if i did manage to fall asleep, i probably would've woken up because of one or the other. that's when i heard someone nearby talking, or it was more of a loud whisper. i sat right up on my bed to figure out where the noise was coming from, only to see the source was right in front of me.

myung-gi was talking... but to himself? i slowly peeled the blanket off of myself and threw both legs over the edge of my bed. i stepped on my shoes without properly putting them on, and walked towards his bed, making sure not to make anymore noise that could wake up anyone else. i watched as myung-gi continued to blurt out sentences and random words in his sleep, but i couldn't quite make out what he was actually saying. his eyes were fully closed, but his eyebrows were at a slight furrow with sweat beading on his forehead. he looked like he was burning up. without even realizing, i reached my hand out to his forehead, hovering just an inch above it. i didn't even need to make contact with his skin to know he had a fever. i retracted my hand and bent down to my feet to fully put on my shoes before walking over to the door that led to the restroom. a guard was standing by the door and it took me a good 10 minutes for him to let me use the restroom, finally convincing him by saying it was that time of the month.

i grabbed a long piece of a paper towel, folded it, and let it run under the cold water for a bit. i walked back out the door without the guard noticing the paper towel in my hand and made it back to myung-gi, who was thankfully still asleep. i reached out my arms to place the towel on his forehead, but before i could take them back, myung-gi's hand wrapped around my left wrist. his eyes were slightly open, but i couldn't quite tell if he was actually awake or not.

"stay," he croaked, his voice coming out raspy. i stood there unsure what to do and his grasp still on my arm. "please."

well it's not like i could fall asleep anyway. i used my feet to take off my shoes and climbed into his bed, using his arm as a pillow. i cautiously turned to slightly face him, but myung-gi looked like he had already fallen back asleep. i turned back around, closed my eyes, and without even knowing it, fell asleep right then.

i felt warmer than usual as i started waking up to the same music that played when i first got here. eyes still closed, i turned over to my right side and felt even warmer. it was a nice feeling and i wanted to stay here just for a couple more minutes.

the chatter from the people around me woke me up. vision still blurry, i blinked profusely to make sure i wasn't hallucinating. i was looking straight at myung-gi, our faces almost an inch apart. his eyes were still closed and i could even hear his heartbeat; we were that close. we were also under the same blanket now, not knowing how i even got to that position considering he was hogging the thing when i first laid down.

i didn't know what to do. i didn't want to move now because then he'd wake up and i'd have to confront him. i just kept looking at his face, focusing on the bruise from yesterday, which was now a little darker in color. he didn't look like he still had a fever, but something in me wanted to check anyway. i freed my left arm from my own grip and slowly raised it up to his forehead, but before i could even check, myung-gi opened his eyes. i quickly dropped my hand and closed my eyes, pretending like i had never even woken.

fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit, shit.

then i heard him starting to laugh, myung-gi was laughing at me. i peeked one eye open and he started to laugh even harder. now i felt myself heating up. guards please take me now, just take me now. as i was about to say something, myung-gi used the blanket to cover me entirely and pulled me in even closer.

"what the fuck are you do-" i tried to get out, but my voice got muffled by the blanket as he brought me in even closer. oh my god i thought i was going to explode.

"you hiding something under that blanket?" a voice questioned from outside. i took that as my queue to stay as silent as possible.

"no, why would i be?" myung-gi answered back.

"don't talk back to me, fucker. unless you want a matching black eye." oh, so this must've been the person that beat the shit out of myung-gi yesterday. myung-gi didn't respond this time, but i could feel his arm around me loosen as the footsteps got further away. i reached for the rim of the blanket and pulled it back down enough for my face to show. that was a bad idea, because i was just about touching his chest now.

"if you wanted a hug you could've just said so," he said sarcastically, a one-sided grin forming on his face as he looked down at me.

"in your dreams," i said, all flustered. i quickly pushed myself away before he could pull anything else and practically stumbled out of the bed. i didn't even look back as i put on my shoes and walked out to regroup with the rest of the players.

they had us get into groups of five for the second game, making it a game based on team effort. i teamed up with four older guys, one of them being player 456 from earlier. i was glad i didn't end up with myung-gi this game, because honestly i didn't know how to face him after last night. but i still found myself glancing over at him throughout the game to make sure he was still alive.

we both got through the second game, but it was still silence between us. i didn't go up to him and neither did he try and talk to me. i couldn't fall asleep that night either, but i didn't dare get out of my bed.

the next game came around quickly. i stuck with the group i had made during the previous game, and we quickly got the hang of this new game. we were placed onto a merry-go-round like platform and spun around until the music stopped. the speaker would blurt out a number and the same amount of people would need to run and find a room to stay in. if the room had more or less people than the number that was said, you would die. as a group of 5, we got through teams of 3 and 6 pretty easily. but then the speaker called out 2. i looked up as everyone paired up, and i had no one. my mind went fuzzy, everyone was running around screaming and looking for their friends. i felt like i was going to faint until i felt someone grab onto my wrist and started to drag me off the platform. i picked up on the pace and ran like my life depended on it, because it did.

we ran into a purple room and shut the door. my back was pinned to the wall as myung-gi still held onto my wrist. we were both trying to catch our breath, but then he leaned in closer. my body froze and we were only inches apart again. i was looking into his eyes, then panned down to his lips, just to trace back up to his eyes again. the door clicked shut and we were stuck in here. together.

in that moment, i felt his lips touch mine. i closed my eyes as i let myself melt into the kiss. he let go of my wrist and positioned one hand at my waist while the other creeped up the back of my neck. i could feel my shirt fleeting as his fingertips made contact with my skin ever so lightly. my hands made their way up his chest as i gripped onto his shirt and pulled him in even closer, deepening the kiss and eliciting a whiny moan from him. i wanted this to go on forever.

the door made another clicking sound, letting us know we could go back out. i loosened my grip before myung-gi could get his hand up any higher under my shirt.

"we have to," i let out, mid-kiss, "go." we both came to a stop then, realizing we had to go back out onto the platform. i quickly straightened up my shirt with my hands and reached up to myung-gi's hair which was looking all disheveled now to smooth it back out into his natural middle part.

"we're not done yet," he whispered into my ear as we walked out the door, parting ways once again.

that's when i knew i'd be getting a good night's sleep tonight.

#squid game #player 333 #im siwan #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #lee myunggi

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sabertoothwalrus · 2 days ago

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my thought process that went into these designs:

Phoenix - took a lot of inspiration from his scrapped concept art with the facial hair and sweater vest. Took away the gold chain but gave him gold buttons on his sleeves as a compromise. I think he’d wear pointed toed shoes. Decided I’d give everyone patterns, and settled on houndstooth for Phoenix.

Edgeworth - Mostly unchanged from his latest design. I like the scrapped design of his hair with the side part, but added fringe his bangs can still be an ‘M’ lol. his vest is blue to represent how Phoenix has been an influence on him 🤭

Klavier - he was tricky! I wanted him to feel more mature, less rockstar, but not boring. Took away the Gavinners logo. Made him more buttoned up but the shirt is SHEER. Bell bottoms felt so right on him. I think there’d be a running gag in-game where he never puts the jacket on, and Apollo and Athena always joke to each other about it. I’m imagining a sprite animation where he’s like 🥺 and has it draped over his head. His nail polish is colorpicked from someone else’s tie 👀

Apollo - Kept him mostly the same. His face is a little more angled. Added a third piece of fringe that hangs down (influence from Phoenix) and made his hair slightlyyyy longer. Gave him subtle pinstripes and changed his shirt cuff. He has gold hoop earrings now to parallel the bracelet. That + the gold wallet chain gave him a bit of influence from Klavier.

Athena - Took inspiration from 80s/90s womens businesswear. BIG shoulderpads and a bolo tie Widget. She’s sporty and active so I thought shorts would fit her better than trousers. Since she’s no longer wearing tights, I moved the black in her color palette to her shirt. Gave her headphones.

Trucy - wanted to REALLY freshen up her design but still stay true to the Gramarye costume. I took inspiration from ringleaders and gave her epaulettes, but kept the jacket sleeveless because it felt more true to her. Cropped her hair! She has Thalassa’s other bangle now. Minidress is simpler now, but has pinstripes. Put her brooches back into the design on her boots.

Gumshoe - he’s a papa :3 his kids are named Callum and Beau. His animations with a baby carrier would be so funny. Blue badger fanny pack and socks cause I wanted to give him disney dad vibes, and I could see the bag used as evidence in a trial. Little doggy bag keychain because he’s retired from detective work and is now running a dog walking service. He was on vacation and had to get called in as a witness.

Maya - she’s hasn’t left her duties, but she’s on vacation! She’s fully embraced the tourist aesthetic. Steel Samurai keychain on her bag. She’s the OG sillygirl and I needed to preserve her whimsy, her 30s be damned. She would wear bootcut jeans and I know this in my soul.

Pearl - I….. certainly made some choices here HFHSJDJSJD She’s fully embraced gyaru fashion. Maybe every subsequent game she’s switched to another niche fashion trend..? Since I made such a bold departure I kept her in modified Kurain clothing. She got arrested :/ Her hair and makeup would get so fucked up and one of her nails would be missing. Apollo defends her.

I spent so much time making these and had a lot of fun!! :D

wanted to try a lineup of possible aa7 designs after another timeskip! I didn't get to it, but I want the new judge to be the old one's granddaughter.

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plethorawrites · 15 hours ago

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Oh, I really, really like your recent blurb! Jason having a secret girlfriend/family is my favorite trope, but it is so hard to find!

Would you write about silly instances where Jason spots his family in public and tries to shuffle and guide you away without you noticing?

Ahh! I feel that validated in both my love of Jason and my love of the secret relationship trope! (This might not be exactly what you were looking for, but I hope you like it anyway!)

The first time it happened was a few weeks into your relationship, back When the two of you would meet for breakfast or brunch at the little cafe, a few blocks away from where you worked.

Jason Todd would always show up, yawning and exhausted from how tired he always was since he hadn't told you about his night job yet. But he was still on time, excited to see you even if he would go straight home and nap immediately afterwards.

The two of you would always spend more time talking getting to know one another than actually looking over the menu and ordering something to eat, but neither of you minded.

Then, one day, while he was looking away from you to hide the smile you had caused, he caught sight of Tim waiting in line to order a coffee.

Without really thinking about it, he grabbed both of your menus, propping them up and leaning over the table, trying to hide both your faces.

You frowned in confusion but leaned in too, until your faces were close together. "What are you doing?" You whispered.

"Nothing," he lied poorly, being his head over the top of a menu to see if his brother was still there and darting his head back down when Tim walked past the table. He let out a breath of relief, staring at you. "You look really pretty this close."

With an amused eye roll you leaned back in your chair, folding your arms and waiting for a better explanation. "You just wanted to talk really close for a moment?"

"Okay, fine," he sighed heavily. "I wanted to look at your freckles, alright? They're adorable. The ones on your nose are really cute."

It wasn't a lie, technically. He did love them. And you actually believed him, he thought. Or if you didn't, you didn't push the topic.

The next time you accidentally ran into somebody was at the mall, when you had dragged Jason along to help you look for a dress for a mystery date night he said nothing about, except for the fact that you had to wear something nice.

It was just his luck that you had picked the same store Stephanie happened to be shopping in as well. In most circumstances, she might not even notice him when they crossed paths in public, but in a woman's clothing store which was relatively empty, there was no way she wouldn't see him when she turned around.

Without warning, he tugged you away from rack you were looking at, pulling you into a cramped dressing room, locking it behind you.

"Wha-" You stared at him like he had lost his mind. "Why are we the dressing room?"

"How do women try stuff on when they can't turn around?" He countered, ignoring your question and planting his hand on the wall by your head to try to give himself more room in the tight space.

"It's typically not made for two people," you explained "Especially not 6'2 men."

He grinned a bit. "Do you like my height?" He asked, enjoying the proximity a bit more than he would admit.

Yes. Obviously. Who wouldn't? He towered over you. His arms could wrap around your entire body without even straining to cover more skin. Plus, he could reach the top shelf so you didn't have to climb on a chair.

But it was still too early in the relationship to tell him that.

"That's besides the point," you muttered. " Why are we in the dressing room?" You repeated.

"I just...always wanted to see a woman's dressing room," he told you, frowning at his own lie.

"Seriously?" You questioned. "You could have at least picked the big one at the end. And you didn't even let me pick anything to try on."

"Right, well..I figured we could try a different store," Jason explained, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "Nothing here would do you justice."

You huffed, finding it slightly amusing how foolish he was acting. But frankly, it wasn't terribly bad to be stuck in a tight space with him. So, you waited a moment longer before unlocking the stall.

You still had to find a dress.

Things were peaceful for a bit, you and Jason seemed to be growing stronger in your relationship and things began to get a little bit more serious. Jason seemed to be growing stronger in your relationship and things began to get a little bit more intense.

He knew that eventually he'd have to tell his family about you, but the next time he saw one of his brothers in public, he couldn't help but shy away from the task of introducing you.

In his defense, Damian really wasn't the first sibling you would want to meet.

He'd taken you to a nature preserve, because you said you used to go all the time as a kid but stopped after getting older.

You were practically giddy, feeding the animals from your palm, scrunching your nose when their whiskers ticked you. Jason was enjoying it too, more so because of you than the animals.

But while he was mocking you for your squeals, he heard a familiar voice having a one sided conversation with a lemur.

He turned and there was Damian, having his biweekly visit to see the animals that Father wouldn't let him bring home.

Jason cursed internally, pulling you away from the animals, accidentally spilling the feed from your hand.

"Hey, I stillwanted to see the—"

"I'll bring you back, I promise," he said, cutting you off as he dragged you behind a tree.

You wiped off your hand on your jeans and tilted your head. "What is it?"

"I just think you've been giving the animals too much attention," Jason noted. "I feel left out."

"Oh, c'mon," you rolled your eyes.

"Really," he insisted. "You kissed a sloth and a goat but not me."

He pouted a bit and leaned back against the tree, still holding you arm, though loosening his grip before running his hand up and down your arm apologetically.

You sighed, glancing around briefly, not really taking notice of the small, angry child, yelling at some poor worker, before leaning up on your tip toes to kiss his lips very quickly. "Satisfied?"

He smiled softly. "No." He shook his head, pointing to the exit. "Can we leave?" He asked gently.

"Will you bring me back?"

Jason nodded immediately. "Whenever you want," he said.

You gave up and left with him.

Now, if you really thought about it, you could easily put two and two together, but really, the instances were so far apart that you didn't really question the strange behavior.

He had managed to be, for the most part, pretty subtle about pulling you away from his family whenever he encountered them, as few and far between as those moments were.

Like the time you were walking down the street while it was raining and he spotted Duke crossing the street towards your direction. Even though he knew you loved the rain and hated umbrellas, he still pulled his jacket off, covering your head.

"Jay, I told you, I'm fine," you assured him, trying to move it off of you.

"Yeah, but you'll catch a cold," he insisted, pulling even further over your head while blatantly stealing an umbrella from a small stand that was selling them.

He popped it open, covering his own face as you walked past Duke.

"I will not," you told him, finally tugging it off. You frowned, not feeling any rain on your skin. "Where the hell did the umbrella come from?"

"Uh- someone handed it to me," Jason muttered. "Nice man."

And even though he despised running into people he knew because it always put him on high alert, trying to figure out what to do or where to go to keep whoever they ran into from spotting them, sometimes, he actually rather enjoyed the chance to pull you away from the rest of the world.

For instance, when you insisted on going to a carnival, which he wasn't a big fan of at first, until you guys got there and he saw your eyes twinkling at all the lights.

Any thoughts of boredom were quickly drowned out by the sound of your screams on the scarier rides, when you'd reach for his hand. And he bought every single treat you so much as looked at— the funnel cakes, the fresh lemonade, the Carmel corn.

He was watching you pull fresh cotton candy from the stick it was spun around when out of the corner of his eye he caught his brother Dick, along with Wally walking across the fair grounds.

Jason was sure they wouldn't notice you with how far away they were, but he refused to take the chance. So, he interlocked your hands, tugging you into a nearby photo booth as you made a sound of confusion.

"Just thought we should grab a souvenir," he said, beating you to the punch before you could ask what he was doing.

"I'm still eating my cotton candy," You told him. "I should fix my hair too."

Jason got a devilish glint in his eye and ran his hand through your hair jostling it further as you screeched in disbelief. "I think it looks good like that," he admitted, staring at you now that it had a bit more volume.

You blew a loose strand from your face. "I can't believe you did that," you stated. "It's all disheveled."

He nodded, still thinking it looked beautiful. Sort of like how it was when you woke up next to him.

"C'mon," he urged, pulling you into his lap. "I like you this way." He threw a few quarters in the slot and before you knew it you had a strip of three pictures, none of which were appropriate to show to anyone.

A picture of him stealing your cotton candy, a picture of him nuzzling your neck while you scrunched your nose in the way that made his heart clench, and a picture of him tasting said cotton candy on your tongue.

So, maybe it was an over reaction to pull you away from the rest of his carnival when it was huge and chances were Dick never would have even seen you. But God, did he enjoy it.

Then, there were, of course, the far less subtle times which didn't end quite as well.

Like when you just so happened to be walking out of a movie at the same time Cassandra and Barbara were heading into one.

"I think the sequel might actually be better than the original," you told him, arms interlinked as you walked.

"Uh huh," he wasn't paying attention anymore after seeing his sister and Babs at the soda machine, filling up their drinks.

He couldn't exactly pull you into a different theater, especially since he didn't know which one they would be going into.

The next best option? Throwing the empty popcorn bucket over your head.

"Jay?!" You exclaimed.

"It's a discount thing," he muttered vaguely, grimacing at his own excuse. "Wear the bucket out and you get a free movie."

Okay, not the next best, probably. Maybe like...sixth best? Seventh at most.

He pulled you past them, keeping his hand on the top of the bucket to keep it in place while raising his hoodie and keeping on the 3D glasses from the movie until you were past them both.

Once you were, he pulled it off and you were...well, fuming. Rightfully so.

"What the hell was that?" You asked, a bit bitterly, not buying his excuse for a second. "I'm covered in popcorn butter.

He cleared his throat, kissing your greasy cheek and licking his lips tasting a salty popcorn and butter on your skin. "Tastes good, though," he mumbled.

You stormed out on him.

And then, when you chose to walk all the way back to your apartment in frustration, both with his actions and lies, he finally came clean.

"I just... don't want my family to mess anything up between us," he confessed, barely even looking at you.

Vulnerability wasn't his strongest asset, but he was trying. For you.

You washed your face off in the sink for the third time and still felt greasy. Even if you got it all off your face, you'd need a shower to get it out of your hair.

"Why couldn't you just tell me that?" You asked, still confused. It wasn't like you didn't already know who his family was.

"I just- I didn't want you to think I was hiding you," he muttered.

"Jason, you put a bowl of popcorn over my head so your sister wouldn't see me. That's hiding," you stated firmly.

"Yes but it's not hiding out of embarrassment!" He clarified. "My family can be a lot to handle and they might scare you off and they'd definitely mock me endlessly for being in love with you."

His eyes went wide. That...was an accident. He didn't mean to confess that.

You stared at him for a moment, blinking. "Did you just say what I think you did?"

"I uh- well that wasn't..." He cleared his throat. "Yeah," he finally agreed with a slight nod. "But you don't have to say it back or anything, I know I'm not the easiest person to love and it—"

You were already kissing him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He was caught off guard, but it didn't take him long before he kissed you back, his hands finding your waist and steadying you both.

"You're stupidly easy to love," you told him, resting your forehead on his.

(+Bonus)

It was a quiet Friday night when the two of you were at a nice restaurant, celebrating a year of being together. The food was good, the music was soft and nice, and Jason was practically a drooling mess over you, like usual.

So much so, he didn't even notice when his father walked into the restaurant with a date of his own.

You did, though. And in keeping with the spirit of what had apparently been a pretty large part of your relationship, even without you knowing it, you slid out of the booth quickly grabbing his hand and pulling him from his chair.

"Hey, wait a second!" He exclaimed as you rushed him out of the restaurant before he got to finish his dessert. "We still have to pay."

"We'll come back tomorrow and pay," you assured him, pushing open the door, into the cold evening.

"What the hell was that about?" Jason asked once you were outside and seemingly slowed down.

You pointed towards the window. "Your dad," you muttered.

He could see Bruce sitting at a table across from Selina, his eyes scanning a menu while occasionally looking up, probably to compliment her or something.

He huffed. "Add that restaurant to the list of places we can't go," he mumbled, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. "It got cold outside," he simply said when you frowned in confusion.

You pulled on the nice jacket that matched his suit. "Thanks," you said, wrapping your arm around his, tugging him away from the restaurant. "C'mon, I'll buy some more dessert."

He hummed, and pressed a kiss against your head. "Alright," he agreed, letting you lead him away from the restaurant and down the street.

#x reader #headcanon #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #batboys #jason todd x you #dc comics

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lheesluv · 1 day ago

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One Night Stand (l.hs)

Having the time of your night, you get tipsy and hook up with a stranger who later find out is your brother’s best friend.

PAIRINGS — brother’s bsf!heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE — brother’s best friend, one night stand, smut

WARNINGS — smut (mdni), p in v, alcohol, everyone is 20+, lmk if i missed anything!

WC — 0.6k

A/N — hey guys! if this seems familiar, it’s the first chapter to my wattpad series “My Secret Lover.” if you wanna know what happens next, go check it out at lheesluv on wattpad.

Blurry vision. That was all you were able to see. You had no idea how many drinks you drank tonight, but you didn't care. You were having fun. You lost your friends in the huge crowd so you stumbled your way to the crowd of people dancing.

You didn't know how long you've been dancing for but before you knew it, you were dancing with someone who had an addicting scent. Before you knew it, your arms were wrapped around his neck and his arms snaked around your waist. Before you knew it, you felt the tension grow between the two of you. And before you knew it, your mind was clouded with this euphoric feeling as you felt the pleasure flow throughout your body.

Your fingers tightened their grip on the bed linens as your head threw back. Whimpers and whines left your parted lips. You felt different sensations as you heard his groans and growls. Every second, his hips would make contact with you. His thrusts were never faltering and intensified. Profanities would leave your lips every now and then.

"S-Shit," you slipped out, not knowing his name. He got close to your ear and whispered, "The name's Heeseung, darling." You just knew he had a smirk on his lips but you soon forgot about that thought when he took you in another position.

"Fuck, Heeseung." You gasped out at the new position, your hands that were once gripping the sheets now clutching onto his biceps. "Oh, s-shit moan my name like that." He moans at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. He keeps his pace fast, causing the sound of skin clapping to bounce on the four walls.

The sound of your whimpers, the heavy breathing, the skin clapping, the wet noises turned him on so much. He grabs your waist tightly and pounds into you, the tip of his head hitting your right spots in every way. "O-oh my god— fuck, you're so good," you cried out, digging your nails into his broad back. You felt him smirking against your neck as he left wet kisses on it.

Your face scrunches into a lewd face as your back arches for the overwhelming pleasure. He had you trembling beneath him. "Fuck," Heeseung groans under his breath, enjoying the sight beneath him.

He felt you tighten your walls around him, making him grunt. "H-Heeseung, I-I'm—" "I know," he breathes heavily as he speeds up his thrusts. "P-Please," you cried out, gripping the sheets tightly. You felt his cock drag against your walls and the thought of it was about to make you combust and you released with a high-pitched scream.

The amount of times you kept clenching around him made him go insane. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, cum. Cum all over my dick," Heeseung growls, releasing his hot load in the condom.

He slowly thrusted in your wet dripping heat to ride out your high. He dropped his body beside yours, the room filled with heavy breathing from the both of you, the room smelling like sex. Before you knew it, you passed out from the exhausting activity.

You woke up with the sunlight shining in your eyes. You groaned as you sat up on the bed, feeling a headache hit your head from drinking last night. Memories from last night's party hit you, making you look around the room—clothes on the floor. You, naked. But the guy, he's gone.

You got dressed and walked out of the house, seeing bodies sleeping everywhere. "Well that was one hell of a one-night stand," you thought to yourself as you got in your car and drove back home — clueless to what awaits for you.

#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung smut #heeseung fanfic #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen heeseung #enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung au #enhypen au

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thoughtfulfiction · 1 day ago

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Full of Surprises

Author’s note: My first Joe request from a gorgeous anon! Hope you, my angel @emmyblues and all the other New Years babies had an amazing birthday!!!

Pancakes. Waffles. Is both too much? A little fruit on the side? Should he have bacon on the plate? What about eggs?

“Joe,” he snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of a perturbed voice. “What should I make? I’d like to know today, please.”

The man continues walking around the kitchen, running through the plan in his head. It’s honestly causing him more effort than most of his pregame prep. Football was easy, it was x’s and o’s, utilizing his cadence and dissecting some of the best defenses the league has ever seen. Simple things. Planning the perfect birthday wasn’t exactly something he’d practiced his entire life but it was the first one he’d be spending with you living together so he was willing to try his best to make it unforgettable.

“Okay,” he places his hands on the counter, facing his chef. The first order of business for the day was to deliver you breakfast in bed but he loved you too much to make you sit through a meal he cooked. So he called in a professional to start the day off on the right foot. “Chocolate chip pancakes. Final answer.”

“Thank you,” his chef Morgan cracks a tiny smile, patting Joe on the back. “Relax man, she’s gonna love it. If anything, today might be a little over the top but hey—I’d go all out for my girl too.”

That did nothing to ease his worries. He made his way to the living room to touch up some of the decorations and make sure that the layout is how he pictured it in his mind. He thinks for a second, laughing to himself about how you’re still peacefully sleeping upstairs and he’s running around like a headless chicken. By the time he’s putting on the finishing touches, the food is ready and he needs to wake you up so you have time to eat and spend a little time together before he has to leave for practice.

You wake up to the most delicate kisses peppering your face, your neck, your collarbone. Trying to ignore it, you pull the covers over your face but your morning energy, or lack thereof, is no match for him. He easily takes the comforter away, pulling you in close enough to have his mouth back on your skin, kissing your shoulder. Each gentle touch enhances the beautiful wake-up call.

“Good morning sunshine,” he states calmly, “happy birthday.”

You hum tiredly, opening your eyes to ogle at him in all of his glory. His icy blue eyes peering into your soul, the way his arm muscles clench while holding onto the tray full of food that he sets in your lap. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of this view, of being in his orbit…as long as you live. And he’s completely dedicated to making this entire day all about you. “Thank you baby,” you cover your mouth and back away when he leans in, “morning breath?”

Joe scoffs, “come here woman,” he grabs you by your legs, wrapping them around his waist and reaching over to present the most perfect platter of pancakes you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Thank you! You didn’t have to wake up extra early and do all this,” you give him a very quick peck, immediately digging in.

He takes a piece of fruit off of your plate and pops it into his mouth, “thank Morgan actually. I didn’t make any of it. But…I do have big plans for you today.”

“Oh you do?”

Joe nods, grabbing your fork so he can feed you. He sat there and helped you finish the plate, giving you a kiss after each bite. Once you were finished, he let you brush your teeth before pulling out a blindfold.

“This is a bit kinky…” you trail off as the light is replaced with complete and utter darkness. Joe gently ties the blindfold after wrapping it around your head and waving his hand in front of your face to make sure you can’t see.

“Maybe I’ll save it for later,” Joe growls into your ear, playfully smacking your butt before grabbing your hand slowly walking the two of you out of the room.

The gentle padding of his feet on the ground, leading you down the stairs is the one thing you can focus on. You knew he was only leading you to the living room but you really don’t mind trusting blindly to hold your hand through life and wherever it may take you.

Light comes back to your world when your boyfriend takes off the blindfold, his mischievous smile making an appearance.

“Joseph…what did you do?”

He puts his hands up, looking at you like he has no clue what you’re talking about. The entire living room is covered in balloons, two giant gold numbers depicting your age sit on the couch, surrounded by a array of lavish gift bags. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Joe rushes out, taking long strides toward the doorway and coming back with his hands behind his back. The birthday hat you made him wear a few weeks ago is suddenly now on your head and he takes a picture of you in the middle of the room and you feel like you’ve just won a spelling bee. “You can take it off now if you want, I promised my mom I’d get you back for making me wear the stupid hat. But you look good in the stupid hat so it’s not as funny.”

“Aw you’re so sweet,” you tell him with a laugh, kissing him on the cheek as he hands you the first gift.

The first three bags are Bvlgari. A complete matching set containing a ring, necklace and a bracelet. All gold. The next bag is Gucci, an ivory bucket hat.

“I have the same one in black. Figured we could match,” Joe shrugs, handing you the next one.

Calf length leather boots, with red bottoms. Then another pair of boots, which could be considered more casual since they’re Chelsea boots…except they’re Prada. And of course, he got you the Prada travel bag you mentioned in passing nearly a month ago. “Thank you. You really did not have to get me all this stuff. All of this is beautiful and so thoughtful.”

You wrap your arms around him, hugging him tight and giving him a tender kiss on the lips. “What did I do in my past life to deserve you?”

Most of your early relationship you tried to be firm in letting him know you weren’t with him for the stuff he can buy you. Over time as the trust and love continued to build between you two, you realized that it wasn’t the end of the world to be pampered and showered with gifts every now and then, internal cringing less at the thought of the prices at the end of his gift receipts. The man seemed satisfied with how his first two surprises had gone, letting you know that your friend Ryan was on her way to pick you up as soon as he was gone for practice. Every detail had been carefully planned out so you wouldn’t be alone and bored while he was gone.

As soon as he was out the door you took your time getting ready, putting your new items away in their respective places. Ryan texted you that she was on her way after you got out of the shower, not telling you where you were headed so you opted for minimal makeup and a casual but cute outfit and some sneakers in case there was walking involved.

The surprise ended up being an extensive spa treatment. A 75 minute deep tissue massage and a Vitamin C facial. Then there was the mani-pedi, hydrotherapy soak and exfoliating scrub included. You felt the most relaxed you’ve felt in years, all the tension was released literally from the top of your head and neck area to your feet.

Your home was eerily quiet when you and Ryan came back. The lights were off and Joe was nowhere to be found, even though the car he took when he left that morning was back in its usual spot in the garage.

“Babe? Are you home?” You called out, starting to search for him.

Ryan turned on the kitchen lights and suddenly the room was filled with people yelling “surprise!” Your mom and Joe’s mom were there, along with several of your friends, a few Bengals players and their significant others were also in attendance.

On the side table was a massive spread of food, mostly comprised of your favorites and you bravely held back the wave of emotion to greet everyone and thank them for coming. Having a birthday on a holiday has never been easy. Growing up it was a time where people were either out of town to celebrate with their families or it was just simply too much work to even want to plan anything concrete in case plans had to be moved around or cancelled. You sometimes felt like the day was completely overshadowed. Now that you were an adult it wasn’t the biggest deal in the world as long as you had a relaxing and relatively fun day but for Joe to gather some of your favorite people in the world all in one place to be with you on your birthday meant more than you could explain. Speaking of Joe, you hadn’t seen him yet.

You are in the middle of asking Chase Brown’s girlfriend Jazmyn if she has everything she needs from her baby registry when you spot him. In his hands is the most beautiful heart shaped gold birthday cake and he’s beaming as he starts the “happy birthday” song and everyone in the room joins in. Your eyes are closed when he sets the cake in front of you, telling you to make a wish. The first reaction is to ask him what more could you wish for when you have everything you could possibly want right in front of you, yet you indulge him and stand still to think for a little while before blowing out your candles and letting people try the cake.

Between the conversations about playoff scenarios and resolutions for the new year, the room is bustling with activity. Even Joe seems relaxed, a water bottle in hand and never really taking interest in being more than five feet away from you at all times. You catch his eyes a few times throughout the afternoon, a comforting smile here and there going a long way while the people in your home happily mingle and make significant dents in the amount of food available. Nobody really seems to notice that the two of you have snuck off other than your moms, who exchange knowing smiles.

“Alright, you have to stop.” You tell him once you’re finally alone.

“Stop what? What am I doing?”

“Stop looking at me with that face. That I’ve seen you naked several times face, don’t give me that face. Not with my mom in the room. Because when you make that face and you’re staring at me with that—freaking stare I want to do something about it. And I can’t. Cause my mom is in the room. And so is yours. So stop it. That should’ve been my birthday wish.”

Joe rolls his eyes, closing the already short distance between you. “Well, when you say a wish out loud, it doesn’t come true.”

He’s looking at you again, less intense this time, more…soft. You’re the only person in the world that gets to see him like this, completely undone and void of his impenetrable exterior. This is the man you’ve continued to fall in love with the more you’ve gotten to know him. And when your lips meet his you can’t help but grin, brushing your finger along the side of his jaw with your thumb. The kiss is as soft as a feather, almost painfully slow as Joe teases you, letting you trace his top lip with your tongue until he opens his mouth and takes charge. Before the kiss goes any further he pulls away, sitting down in one of the oversized swivel chairs in the corner of the room and letting you settle on his thigh.

“When did you have time to do all this?” You ask him earnestly, “I mean with your schedule and the end of the season. How did you—”

He leans into your touch, kissing the tiny space behind your ear that he knows makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. “No matter what’s going on in my life, I will always find time to celebrate my favorite person in the entire world. I really wanted you to feel special today.”

“You make me feel special everyday. But for what it’s worth, you’re my favorite person in the world too.”

Joe kissed you on the head, patting your leg so you can stand up first. He tells you to wait here, signaling there’s one more surprise in store. In his hand is a card for you to read…alone. “I’ll be out there making sure Sam hasn’t eaten all of your cake,” he jokes, giving your hand a squeeze on his way out.

Running your fingers across the front of the letter, you admire Joe’s handwriting, trying to think of what could possibly be inside the envelope. Your curiosity gets the best of you rather quickly and you’re tearing it open, holding a small piece of paper in your hand.

Happy birthday baby,

I’ve been thinking about the perfect way to close out the day. Then I thought about birthday sex and doing unspeakable things to each other and got a little distracted. So I took a break to regroup and come up with an actual plan. Today is about you and how amazing you are. How you’ve changed my life for the better. How you’ve been my rock every step of the way during this up and down season. One that I wouldn’t trade for the world because at the end of the day, I get to play football, which love and then I get to come home to you, which I’m starting to love more and more every day. You’re my dream come true and I’m so lucky to get to do life with you.

And if you ever tell anyone I wrote you a love letter on your birthday I’ll deny it. We are taking this to the grave.

I love you,

Joe

You were already in tears halfway through the letter, the waterworks in full effect when two tickets to Disneyland in Tokyo were taped to the bottom of the letter.

How was he ever going to outdo this birthday?

The Bengals should seriously consider signing you for a short term contract the way you wrap Joe up in your arms as soon as you spot him. If he hadn’t seen you coming and knew your reaction, you probably could’ve taken him to the ground. “I take it you liked the present?”

You shrug, “not a bad first offseason trip,” the facade quickly fades and you hug him again, “thank you Joey, for everything today…and everyday. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He leans into you, resting his head on yours for a few seconds.

Tilting you head up, you look at him. “Wait…is this why you got us the bucket hats?”

“That’s exactly why I got us the bucket hats. We gotta fit the vibe babe. Blend in.”

You huff out a laugh. “Right. Of course.”

You once scoffed at an 8:30pm bedtime and now it was hard to keep your eyes open at 9:16pm, laying in bed next to Joe. And you swear you just heard him giggle, leaving you wide awake.

“Did you party too hard birthday girl?”

“It’s not funny! I’m getting too old for this,” you mumble into his side.

Sometimes you don’t even remember what life was like before him. And you definitely don’t want to know a life without him. Here he was Mr. Football fiend, in the middle of the season, going above and beyond to make you feel celebrated, special and loved beyond measure. And he’s always so warm, being in his arms is grounding you, slowly lulling you back to sleep.

The two of took a power nap so you could make it to the ball drop. At 11:59, he wished you happy birthday again and you kissed him at midnight wishing him a happy new year.

“Thank you for escaping the womb. I’m really glad you did that.” He pulls on your—well his—hoodie strings so you can’t see, kissing your nose.

“You’re a freaking idiot.”

#Joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fic

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sturnslutz · 23 hours ago

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honey dryhumping chris for the first time...

read their headcannons here!

you didn’t know how it got to this point. chris had come over again to “study” or attempt to. he laughed at the fact you actually thought he came to only study with you after the first time you guys fucked.

chris had somehow managed to get you on top of his lap despite your efforts to keep him on task, but you didn’t necessarily get off him at any time.

he had proposed a new advance in your.. whatever the two of you were. “cmon it’s gonna be fine. it’s just dry humping, no actual sex. plus i don’t know why you’re so scared we literally fucked already.”

“m’ not scared, chris.” you say as you bury your face into his shoulder. he rolls his eyes and smiles while rubbing your back up and down, reassuring you.

“we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, honey. it’s not that big of a deal, don’t worry about it.”

“no no! i want to, i just don’t think ill be very good at it…” you say, expressing as you sit back up, looking away in embarrassment at the last sentence.

“that’s why we can practice and i’ll teach you. plus, dryhumping ain’t that hard. we jus’ makeout and you kinda jus’ grin’ yourself on me. it feels good for both of us.”

“okay… do we have to take our clothes off?” you say as your shyness rebuilds. he laughs while shaking his head. “you worry too much. and no, we don’t have to. it’s more of a preference type thing. if you wanna take your shirt off you can. i can take mine off because i know how much you like rubbing your hands all over.”

your ears practically perk up at the moment he mentions taking his shirt off. he didn’t have tattoos or anything, but the feeling of rubbing your cold, soft hands over his biceps, stomach, and just upper body made you feel amazing.

“o-okay.” you nod, smiling a bit as you make eye contact with him again. he nods, smirking as he grips your hips tighter to himself so you don’t fall, before swiftly taking off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on your floor.

your gaze immediately drops as you lean your hands down, causing a hiss to come out of him as he feels your cold hands touch him.

“okay, you ready, baby?” he asks while rubbing your thighs. you hum and lean down, kissing him softly. he immediately reciprocated the kiss, going slowly at first to help get you worked up.

he let his hands roam over your body, going over every inch, curve, material, and everything that he could reach with an arm’s distance. he then grabbed your hips, moving you himself, grinding you slowly against his covered torso.

you gasp against his lips as your jeans rubbed against his, the edge of your zipper hitting a specific spot against you as his hardness pushes it up towards you. “y’like that?” he mutters against your lips, taking a small breath in between, letting you do the same.

you couldn’t get words out so you just nodded, letting him do the same movements with your body over and over, causing your panties to get soaked.

“fuck, chris. ‘m close.” you say, panting against his mouth as he nods, letting out a small, “same.” he grinds himself more into you, as you take over the lead of your own body, matching his own movements perfectly.

“fuck honey. gon’ make me cum in my pants.” the two of you kept the same movements as you pulled your lips away from his, burying your head in his neck, whimpering softly as you tremble against him, your movements coming to a stop.

once he realized you reached your climax, he groaned, cumming in his boxers, allowing a dark spot to appear on his jeans. the two of you are left panting against each other as he kisses your cheek, whispering soft praises into your ear.

the confidence you built up slowly diminishes once again as you bury yourself deeper into his neck, if possible, to help escape the reality of what happened, that chris made you cum in your panties, and you made him cum in his pants.

a/n: ugh. only if hockeyplayer!chris could be this nice in the future.

@muwapsturniolo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @m4ttg1rl @lypsiiii @tyummyz @sturniqlo @emely9274 @shadowthesim @mattsobvimyfav @sturnl0ve @wastelandzella @fallininlust @chrisslut04 @angeliijay12-blog @sophand4n4 @vainilladollie @slutforchrissturniolo2 @ncm9696 @snoopychris @ilovedanielcaesar @sofieeeeex @chr0mehrts @cockettechris @iloveduckssm comment to be added or removed.

#alexis talks #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #=hockeyplayer!chris #=shy!reader #chris sturniolo blurb #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #summit #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturnslutz

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mysunshinetemptress · 1 day ago

Text

Smarter

Insight 1 Insight 2

Leah Williamson x ??

Warnings: family argument, rushed writing it’s 1am

Leah hadn’t seen any of her family in weeks, not since her granny had come to the house demanding her ring back but today was importation, today was Jacob’s day and she had promised to be there, you had promised to be there and so she found herself stood on the sidelines of her brothers champion ship final with his team. Her family stood on the other side, with no sign of you.

The match is a blur for everyone, for Leah, her family and her brother whose playing, her brother whose playing his championship match but all he can focus on is the tension between his family and his sister.

His sister who he has idolised since he was a little kid, who he wanted to be just like when he grew up.

Leah had walked down to the sidelines when the match had finished Jacob’s team coming out on top, “Jacob, Jacob, Oye Jacob.” Leah yelled across the field trying to get her younger brother’s attention only he ignored her, he couldn’t look at her, he felt sick to his stomach every time he did.

But it was Leah, and so he found him self stopping momentarily meters away from everyone else. That was all Leah needed to race towards him running up to the younger boy “Hey mate I’m talking to you.” Jacob rolled her “what do you want.” Leah can’t say she’s surprised by his reaction but it hurts her none the less “I just-well I wanted to see you-see how you were, to eh to congratulate you-it was great game mate.” Jacob shakes his head before turning.

Leah grabs his arm panic flaring within her at the thought of losing her younger brother too, “Jacob please.” Jacob harshly tugs his arm away from staring at her like she has caused him harm “no Leah, I-why-how could you” Leah shakes her head her mind racing “I-i don’t know, I can’t lie to you-I don’t know.”

Jacob scoffs “Bullshit, of course you know, this isn’t some one night mistake Leah, this has been going on for ages, and you-you have the nerve to say you don’t know, you don’t know why you cheated on a woman who loves you more than anything, a woman who has given you everything been there for everything, for everyone and asked for nothing in return, the woman you married” Jacob’s squared up to her now, taller now than he was when they first started to have arguments.

Leah feels her throat closing “ it-I made a mistake, but I don’t love her-it’s Y/n.” Jacob hates the way his heart breaks at the sight of tears welling in Leah’s eyes but he doesn’t stop “no it was, you’ve fucked it up, you cheated on your wife, your pregnant wife might I add.” Leah shakes her head “I-I didn’t know.” Jacob lets out a humourless laugh “why cause you would have stopped then.” Leah doesn’t say anything “oh my god, you would have stopped cheating on her, you wouldn’t have said anything, you would-you would have dumped that slag and gone on like you had done nothing wrong.” Leah tries to grab his hand as he begins to walk away again.

“Jacob please.” Jacob keeps walking as Leah chases him “Have you stopped seeing her.” Jacob hates that he’s asked such a question but he needs to know, and the silence is all it takes “She-she’s helping me get through this I-i have no one.” Jacob scoffs “I wonder why.”

Amanda watch’s from a distance her heart breaking at the sight of her kids fighting, at the sight of her youngest slowly starting to hate his favourite person in the world.

“I used to idolise you, I -I wanted to be you.” Jacob’s voice is quite as he admits it all to Leah, leah who wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow her whole, to put her out of her misery. “I used to sit and watch you both, watch how soft she made you, how loved up you both were and I used to wish to have that, I used to wish to be you.” Jacob shakes his head “I can’t believe I wasted all that time wishing, when you’ve become such an asshole so far up her own arse that she has destroyed the only thing she’s ever wanted, or at least the old version of her ever wanted.” Leah can’t say anything else can’t move as her heart breaks again like it has so many times recently.

But her phone lights up in her hand as the screen shows HER name and Jacob shakes his head, he’s not angry anymore just sad, disappointed and sad “She hasn’t stopped crying, I-I’m starting to think she might never stop, even-even when the baby comes.” Jacob doesn’t say anything else instead he just leaves her there standing in the middle of the pitch as he walks over to Amanda head, Leah doesn’t try anymore, she’s tired and soaked and her stupid phone won’t stop buzzing and all she wishes for in that moment is for you. But she’s lost you, lost them, lost everyone.

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shrimpybbq · 2 days ago

Note

how would rafe deal with charlies tantrums? cause i feel like he’s at an age where thats common 😭 and reader taking care of emmy cant really do both at the same time

"Hey, c'mon bud,"

"You're ok, I'll give it back in a sec, a'ight?"

"It's ok, just stop crying please Charlie, please buddy,"

As high school gf!reader walked into the kitchen, those were the words echoing off the walls, intermingled with the shrill screams of Charlie. She had been out for lunch with Sarah, only to come home and hear Rafe's exclamations. Charlie's piercing cries made her cringe as the little boy wailed so hard his face begun to redden. He had been playing with Rafe's phone and watching his favourite cartoon, only for Rafe to need to make a call quickly. Alas, he had not been able to make that call as his son began to cry as soon as the phone left his chubby little hands.

Rafe looked up as he heard his wife enter the room, seeing her holding Emmy in her arms. His eyes rolled at the sight of the smile breaking across her face, unable to hide the humour she found in watching Rafe be on the receiving end of the boy's tantrums for once. Charlie was a daddy's boy - never crying or throwing tantrums, always seeking to spend time with his father. It didn't help that he was a carbon copy of his Rafe as a toddler either. She found some joy in her husband finally understanding what it was like to deal with a crying toddler.

"Hey! Stop laughing at me, m'kay. Can't you just make him stop crying or something?" Rafe pleaded as Charlie began to cry louder, his panic seeping over. High school gf!reader sighed, taking pity on her husband.

"You need to give him something else to distract him. That or put him in front of the tv," she stated. Rafe watched as she moved towards him, coming to his side, "Go pick him up and sit with him for a bit. He'll calm down pretty quick."

She watched as Rafe and Charlie made their way over to the couch, the boy's favourite cartoon filling the screen once more. Rafe was mumbling lowly to Charlie as he buried his face into his father's chest, and high school gf!reader could only smile at the sound of his squeals once more, though this time they were clearly happy and joyous. Rafe had resorted to tickling the boy when he wouldn't look at him.

"Are you gonna be good for me now buddy? No more tantrums?" Rafe queried, a pleased smile spreading across his face as Charlie nodded. Of course he was going to be good, he was a daddy's boy.

"Ugh, you make it look so easy. I hate you," she whined at the sight.

Again, Rafe rolled his eyes. "Hey, c'mere. Come sit with us," he commanded. "Should mommy come sit with us?" he directed at Charlie this time.

High school gf!reader felt herself nodding in agreement and slowly ambled over to the couch. As she settled into the plush fabric Charlie turned to face her, eagerly reaching out to his sister.

"She's still tired, baby. Why don't we watch your show and then after you can play?" she suggested, bringing her son under her arm. Wrapped up in her warm embrace he agreed, a small "ok mama" leaving him.

Rafe just grinned at his little family, sighing and tossing his head back as he slumped further into the couch. Charlie had tired him out, and he had only been watching him for a few hours. He needed to get his wife a gift soon as something to say thank you, he thought determinedly. To show her how much he appreciated her and how much she had invested into their family.

i've been missing high school gf so i managed to answer one of the asks in my inbox finally! hope you enjoy this cute family moment anon!

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shurisneakers · 1 day ago

Text

unsolved (viii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the paranormal, the passage of time, panicking,

A/N: omg guys new banner reveal. i put a flower on that man because i felt like it. personally thrilled that we have made it this far because that means it's only 2 more chapters to 10 and then we're in double digits. also unsolved drabble requests are very welcome and encouraged please ily THANKS BYE

Previous part || Series masterlist

“I don’t get it,” Bucky says, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

Inside the room, the air is thick with dust and the scent of aged metal. The walls are lined with dark wooden beams, their surfaces weathered by time, and the faint smell of oil and rust lingers in the air.

“It’s a haunted clock tower,” you reply, walking up the stairs, floorboards creaking generously under you.

“I got that,” he retorts, “but what the hell is it supposed to haunt? All the search results were just some kids' show.”

In the center of the room stands the massive, intricate clock mechanism, the gears and cogs slowly gathering rust as the years have passed without maintenance. Moonlight through the giant clock face casts a faint glow into the dimly lit room.

“I’m surprised you checked the internet,” you tell him, “I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was an undercover agent for 80 years. I know how to use technology.”

“You’re also older than the concept of time, so you can see how that may confuse some people,” you reply, taking a tour around the room. “Second, I’m surprised you checked the internet.”

“You already said that.”

You stop in your tracks, hand on your chest as you say, “Yes, but you’re researching things now? For our show? That’s real sweet, babygirl.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he continues to climb up. “It was one Google search.”

“It’s one more than what you’ve done in the last 3 months,” you say, eyelashes fluttering comically at him before your demeanor returns to normal. “Anyway, there’s no like, ghost sightings here, per se–”

Bucky comes to a halt only two steps away from his door. “Then why are we here?”

“It’s still haunted, Bucky,” you chastise. “That doesn’t always mean ghosts. Maybe it could mean orbs. Or shadow people, like from the hospital–”

“Not a thing.”

The clock creaked and groaned, the hands inching forward, their motion sluggish and uneven, as if the gears hadn't been properly oiled in years. With every tick, a loud whine echoed through the tower, vibrating the air in the otherwise silent room.

“Ooh, maybe we’ll find our doppelgangers.” Your eyes shine. “What would you do with yours?”

“Nothing.” Steve met another version of himself once and immediately beat the shit out of it, if that was anything to go by.

“Not even a date?”

His eyebrows knit together, eyes creasing. “Why would I date my doppelganger?”

“Who’s gonna know you better than yourself? But the more important question is, would you fu–”

The noise from the clock grows more intense—a final, desperate groan before it comes to a jarring halt.

The ticking stops abruptly, leaving an unnatural silence hanging in the air. The hands remain frozen at 9.

Both of you are left staring at a now defunct clock.

“Clock died ‘cause of your stupid question,” Bucky comments, voice dry.

“Just say you don’t like modern philosophy and go.”

“Oh I’m going alright. Two hours and all we’ve gotten footage of is stairs, trash and a washout Big Ben.”

“Don’t insult Kinley Clock Tower like that,” you scold. “You’re gonna piss it off and it’s gonna haunt us for the rest of our days.”

Bucky gives you a flat look. “By doing what.”

“Showing you the wrong time wherever you go.”

“Devastating,” Bucky responds, not sounding fazed in the slightest. “Right, so nothing haunted here?”

“Maybe it’s haunted by the failure of proper clock maintenance.”

Bucky’s eyes sweep across the largely empty room one last time. “Other than that toolbox, place’s empty. Chalk this one up to bullshit and let’s go.”

You let out a deep sigh at the thought of a wasted evening. “Fine, but that means we have to find another idea for a video.”

“Use one of the reserves.”

“We’re gonna have to, if we can’t find anything by tomorrow.”

Bucky’s heavy footsteps echo through the staircase. “That is a problem for tomorrow-you to deal with.”

You let out a scoff, following behind. “Tomorrow-us.”

“No,” he replies thoughtfully. “Pretty sure I got it right.”

Whatever. You counted tonight as a win the second you managed to get Bucky out of the compound without having to lie out of your ass. He even threw in a Google search worth of research. And he even told you the batteries on the cameras were all charged. Small steps for a regular co-host, big step for Buckykind everywhere.

The elevator stops at his floor and he gets out, sending you a two finger wave on his way out.

Should I walk you to your door?” you throw in at the last minute, the makings of a smile on your face.

Bucky casts you an indignant look. “Why?”

“Chivalry, baby.” You grin, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “Didn't they literally invent it in your era?”

Bucky flips you the finger instead, not bothering to dignify you with a response. Your laughter subsides as the elevator closes on you with a ding.

Bucky sees a faint light in the hallway, and figures Steve’s slightly ajar door is its source. In between trudging back to his bedroom, he drops a quick knock on it.

“Come in,” Steve calls, voice deep from the sleepiness starting to set in. “Oh, you’re back.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies from the doorway. “Shoot got done early.”

“Where’d you go?” he asks, laying down his book beside him.

“Kinley Tower,” Buck stands with his arms pulled over his chest, leaning against the doorway. “Place was a dud. Nothing to see.”

“What about other things?” Steve asks, curious but still casually indirect. “How was it?”

Bucky shrugs. “The same. Bounced right back, like nothing ever happened.”

“You still don’t know what Nat was talking about?”

“No,” Bucky replies, scratching the back of his neck, before hesitantly saying, “Should I be asking? I don’t know if we’re— y’know.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re friends by now, Buck.” Steve smiles briefly. “Wouldn’t hurt to check in.”

Well, Steve may be sure, but Bucky wasn’t. Then again Steve only had 1 best friend for over a hundred years until he met Sam, so how the fuck would he know.

Still, Bucky gives a curt nod, glancing around Steve’s room for any notable changed but coming up empty handed.

“You wanna tell me why there’s several charges on my card for tarot websites?” Steve picks up his book again, thumbing through the pages.

“Wasn’t me,” Bucky grunts.

“Seems a bit suspect after you did an episode on witchcraft,” Steve speaks without lifting an eye from his book. “Could just be me though.”

It catches him by surprise. “You watch our episodes?”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Yes? Every last one.”

“Oh,” Bucky mumbles, finding everything else in the room infinitely more interesting all of a sudden.

“Looks like it’s doing you some good,” Steve continues, turning back to his novel. “It’s nice to see you out and about.”

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?” Bucky gives him a look that could be seen as peeved if the blond hadn’t known him for as long has he had been alive.

Steve hides a smile. “Nothing. Left some apples on your nightstand. Eat it if you’re hungry.”

It forces Bucky to try to catch onto Steve's train of thought. Sure you hung out occasionally after work, but it wasn’t like you were hanging out on a friends basis. Bucky definitely would know if you were, because it would be a laborious task to even get him to consider leaving his bedroom. A thousand elephants would not be able to make him go do things that friends do.

So he stares at him for another whole minute waiting for a follow up, a clarification, but Steve makes no other comment, only turning the page of his novel.

Bucky finally leaves silently, shutting the door behind him.

Sure enough, there are apples and a fork on his nightstand. They were good too, crisp like Steve had gotten them from the market just today.

By eleven Bucky’s already in bed, eyes straining as he watches this woodworking guy on YouTube teach him how to make a dovetailed box. For no reason. And just because he heard Sam mention offhand that he needed a place for all his keys doesn’t mean Bucky was making it for him.

From: co-host

how about we take a road trip down to washington to go meet my dear friend

From: co-host

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

what friend

mr quatch himself

From: co-host

first name ‘sas’

From: co-host

i’m talking about bigfoot

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

yeah i got it

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

when

From: co-host

well we’d have to start at 4am

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

fuck no

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)how about something within a 5 mile radius

From: co-host

How about Sunday

Bucky switches his phone all the way off and tosses it onto the bed beside him, smothering his face into the pillow.

From: co-host

How about your mom

He’d deal with your nonsense tomorrow.

And probably fill the gas tank for a trip to Washington.

Bucky’s eyes snap open when the cold air hits his face. He keeps his window shut all the way,every single night.

He blinks several times before his eyes adjust to the darkness of his surroundings.

“Bucky?” a disembodied voice comes from beside him.

His head whips to the side, making him realise that one, he was standing, and two, he had no idea how long he’d been standing for.

Only, he finds you next to him, looking disoriented like you’d just been shaken awake from a nap.

“Where the hell–” your voice trails off as you take note of where you’d landed up.

In front of him, mechanical gears whine as they scrape against each other in a desperate attempt to move.

He peers down at his clothes; the same black t-shirt, jacket and cargo pants he distinctly remembers changed out of nearly an hour ago.

“What the fuck,” Bucky snaps. “Did you bring us back here?”

“No,” you say, face rigid, solemn. “I swear I didn’t. I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Bucky’s shoulders loosen. “No, I was asleep.”

The wind rustles by, and everything looks exactly the same as when you left it nearly 3 hours ago.

“We’re back at Kinley,” he tests it, taking a step forward. “What just happened?”

“This is weird, right?” you put forth, clearing your throat. “I definitely was going to send you a text about the next video idea, and the next thing I know you’re in front of me. I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Bucky pinches the inside of his arm. The skin comes back red and stinging.

“No, it’s real,” he murmurs. “Unless this is a weird fuckin’ dream that I’m having.”

It wouldn’t be the first time you showed up in his dreams either. He just doesn’t remember any of them being so… vivid.

“I’m in the physical realm, I can feel that,” you talk so quietly it’s like you’re speaking to yourself. “It’s not your dream. I’m here too.”

He checks his phone.

9:05.

Bucky opens up his messages, finding none from you tonight. His YouTube history similarly didn’t have the video he was watching earlier today.

Bucky clenches his fists and releases them, before taking a deep inhale. “Okay. We just had a strange fuckin’ flash forward into the future because of… I don’t know what. But we never left, and now we’re going home.”

“Yep.” You nod in confirmation, but the camera levitating behind you wobbles with uncertainty. “So– do we recreate what happened or…?”

“No, let's just leave,” Bucky debates, running a hand through his hair.

You take a step towards the stairs, holding onto the bannister as you make your way down.

Bucky holds up the flashlight of his phone as he follows, throwing another look behind him.

“Having a shared flashforward… could say it’s soulmate shit,” you give him a quick glance, but the grin on your face is unsure, and he knows you’re trying to shake it off.

“It’s a carbon monoxide shit.”

“You can be carbon mine-oxide.”

Bucky wordlessly shoves past you as he walks down the stairs, leaving you to follow with another stupid laugh.

The car ride back brings with it some air of normalcy, so does the elevator ride.

Bucky once again gives you a two finger wave as he gets down at his floor.

“Offer’s still there if you want me to walk you to your room,” you call. “I may be delirious, but I’m still chivalrous.”

“Go to sleep,” Bucky carps, shaking his head, banishing the slight lift in the corner of his mouth.

The faint light in the hallway makes him falter.

He sticks his head in anyway. “Hey.”

“Oh, hey,” Steve smiles from his bed, book in hand. “You’re back.”

Bucky glances around the room. “Did we talk earlier today?”

“Only when you texted me for my Netflix password.”

“Nothing after that?” Bucky hesitates from asking him outright.

“No. You okay?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“Just had a weird dream,” Bucky dismisses, forcing his face to relax. “See you around.”

“Left you some apples if you’re hungry,” Steve calls, as Bucky shuts the door.

He crawls back into bed, eyeing the clock suspiciously. 10:30.

He closes his eyes, wills himself to sleep, knowing that this glitch in the matrix was only temporary and tomorrow, you’d be at his damn door, forcing him to go to Washington with you.

Bucky’s eyes fly open when a draft of wind blows past his cheek.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” he growls, taking in the stupid tower again.

“Well, fuck,” you exhale from beside him, in the same clothes from that evening. “I think we’re stuck in a timeloop.”

Of all the things to happen to him. Has he not suffered enough.

“Fine. Alright,” Bucky recalibrates, voice short, running a hand through his hair. “What now? How do we get out?”

“I don’t know, let me just consult with my vast experience in timeloops.”

He throws you a look so dry it would have crops withering. You don’t seem to care at all.

“If I had to guess from the movies I’ve seen, we either gotta solve a puzzle or one of us has to reach self-actualisation and turn into a good human,” you postulate, arms on your hips as you survey the room. “We both know it’s not me, so is there anything you want to share with the class?”

If your release was contingent on Bucky working through his issues, you’d be here for a century at least.

“We keep coming back here at midnight,” Bucky elects to focus on other things, tilting his head towards the clock. “Is it because we left at 9 instead of 12?”

“Maybe,” you consider it. “We can stick around, I guess.”

It wasn’t a bad place to start. You’d have to trial-and-error your way out of this one.

“We’ve got…” he pulls his sleeve back to look at his watch “...two hours and fifty five minutes.”

You shrug. “We can check out the rest of the tower to see if we missed anything.”

“Fine,” he relents slowly as if still weighing his options, only to come up with nothing better.

The next level is at least a few flights of stairs below and if you thought the room with the clock in it was barren, there was nothing here for you except spiders and dust bunnies.

“Maybe we have to clean it up,” you suggest, nose scrunching. “Maybe the tower’s super mad that everyone’s disrespecting it.”

“That's a stupid reason.”

You spin around, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Take that back. We just said maybe it doesn't like being disrespected.”

Bucky grumbles a few choice words under his breath, none of which reach your ears.

There's nothing along the walls of the tower, nor on the ceilings. The intermediary floor and the ground floor come up empty as well.

By the time you've confirmed that you’ve exhausted all possible leads with nothing to show for it, Bucky’s memorised the layout of the place.

11:58.

“2 more minutes,” he tells you.

“All right,” you say, rubbing your palms together. “Experiment one. Let's go.”

Bucky keeps his eyes peeled.

11:59.

He doesn't even fucking blink, and neither do you as the seconds count down on his phone.

12:00.

He exhales, looking up.

A cold wind blows past his face.

When he hastily looks back at his phone, it reads 9pm once more.

“Damn it,” you curse softly.

Bucky’s growing anger resonates in a rumble in chest. “What kind of twisted shit is this?”

“It's fine,” you hold your hand up, breathing out. “I have a few more ideas.”

Bucky carelessly gestures for you to go on, and you point at the big clock.

“That thing stopped working at 9,” you hint. “We'll have to fix it. Get it working again and then we go back.”

“You know anything about fixing clocks?”

“I worked at a toy shop near a watchmaker once,” you offer. “That's gotta count for something.”

“What the hell, sure,” Bucky gives up, throwing his arms up.

He only had experience taking apart the old leather strapped wrist watch his parents got him for his 11th birthday, and Steve’s pocket watch that he inherited from his asshole dad. He’d dismantle it carefully, methodically piece by piece, learning the insides and out of each device, so that if and when they stopped running, he'd know exactly what was wrong just by holding it up to his ear.

That didn't necessarily transfer here, but it couldn't be all that different.

Turns out it's very different and you both had to resort to watching several videos before you even began to attempt to fix it.

He retreats the toolbox from the corner, grateful that at least you didn't have to waste a good half hour going looking for tools to fix a fuckin’ clock.

“There's no signs of life in the mechanism,” you say, reading from the phone. “So I guess we start with the most basic shit.”

He only lets out a noise in acknowledgement, before you both spend time dusting away at gears and checking for broken parts. When nothing seems bent or misaligned, you move onto the next step.

And that's when the fun actually starts.

“That’s not how you oil a gear.”

“Sure it fuckin’ is,” Bucky comments, careful making sure the grease reaches every nook and cranny.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Bucky doesn't take his eyes off the machine, and instead raises his left hand up, clenching it into fist and releasing it, leaving the soft shifting of all the plates to prove his point.

You scoff. “What, just ‘cause you have a metal arm you're the world’s leading expert in oiling mechanics?”

“It means I’ve got some experience in taking care of them.”

“I’ve seen you put that thing in the dishwasher, don’t even try with me,” you warn.

Busted. He usually got away with lying flagrantly about his arm, but apparently you pay attention to him and the fact that the Wakandan tech only required a wipedown every once and a while.

“I do woodwork, I know how to oil things,” he switches seamlessly over to the next lie.

The tools rarely needed any maintenance and he really didn't have to do much with them yet, considering how high quality they were. But he has an idea of what he could be doing, and that's what counts.

You narrow your eyes at him. “How come you’ve never made anything for me?”

“I don’t like you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Bucky continues squeezing oil into axles without sparing you a glance. “What do you want?”

“What can you make?”

“Boxes.”

“Make me a box then.”

“No.”

“Bitch.”

Bucky smiles to himself, turning the gears to see them move smoothly.

You dust off cobwebs from the pendulums to get it swinging again, you use your powers to stare at the crank until it rotates on its own to wind up, and to the best of your estimation, make sure the weights are raised to the right heights.

The whole affair takes nearly 3 hours and towards the end, the both of you are hurriedly rushing through the motions, placing aside the need to argue to just get the damn thing done in time. At some point, telekinesis keeps the pendulum swinging.

“Did you check everything?”

“Yes.”

“Everything.”

“Yes, Bucky.” you sigh. “All major pieces are working. The clock should move.”

Proof of your word, the clock starts ticking again. It goes from 9:00 to 9:05 without any hitches, and then continues on without interference.

“Hell yeah,” you cheer and Bucky heaves a sigh of relief.

“Come on,” he urges under his breath, checking his phone again.

2 minutes to go.

“I love the passage of time,” you state unnaturally loudly. “I've never been more grateful for the passage of time.”

“Don't jinx this.”

1 more minute.

“That's not jinxing, it's good lu-”

Bucky feels a cold breeze swipe across his cheek.

He inhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Your stomach drops to the ground.

In the blink of an eye, everything you'd managed to get done in the last 3 hours had gone right back to the way it had been. Dusty, unmoving and dull.

Bucky robotically checks the time on his phone.

9pm.

His fingers rub his temples. “What's the next plan?”

“We must have not done it right,” you reason quietly, taking a step towards it. “Something's wrong.”

“The thing was moving, I think we got it,” Bucky sighs irritatedly.

“Well, we gotta try again,” you turn to him sharply. “You don't have to be here but I'm gonna do it.”

Bucky raises both his eyebrows at you, and you stare back with equal determination.

“Fine,” he forgoes. “I'll look downstairs.”

It takes less time this time around. It gives you half an hour to check if it is moving again, and you watch the hands move from 9 to 9:05 to 9:20 with no problem.

Meanwhile, Bucky spends his time turning the intermediate room inside out in search for other clues.

When he finds nothing there, he trudges back to the clock, finding you fingers crossed but confident that you'd done it.

“This is it, baby,” you say, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We're getting out of this.”

“Here's to hoping,” he says in a tone that lets you know he isn’t convinced, watching his timer countdown from 30 seconds.

“No hoping. There's nothing to do. We're leaving,” you declare. “I've never seen a clock work more beautifully in my life.”

Three.

Two.

One.

Bucky holds his breath.

And a wind blows past his face.

The machine resets to the way it was.

“All fuckin’ right,” Bucky mumbles, expiring a breath deeply.

“It's fine,” you say, forcing a smile. “I've got a few more ideas.”

Cleaning the floors doesn't work.

Reading up about the clock tower in detail and honouring its legacy in an earnest ceremony doesn't work.

Fixing it for a third time doesn't work either.

“I'm takin’ a nap,” he informs, back against the wall. “I'll deal with this shit again when I wake up.”

“How can you even think about sleeping right now?” you ask, using your powers to pull the damn clock out of the wall. It changes nothing.

“I've thought about sleeping through much worse,” he grumbles, eyes closed.

“I'm beginning to think you have an iron deficiency.”

“Literally a supersoldier.”

“Vitamin D deficiency,” you revise. “Can you step into the sun or do you just like, start hissing and burning?”

“We’ve never gonna find out, ‘cause we’re never making it out of tonight,” he hums, eyes closed.

You go still, clock hovering mid air.

“You don't think we're getting out?”

“I think we're fucked,” Bucky mumbles, yawning as he makes himself as comfortable as old wooden floors would allow him to be. “Y’told me yourself, we tried all the big plans. There's no puzzle. We're trapped.”

The clock lands on the ground with a heavy thud.

“Careful,” he warns, wondering how cozy the floor would be if he just slid down and laid there. “Wouldn't wanna break the fuckin’ thing that put us in this mess to begin with.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Bucky opens one eye to peer at you. “What?”

“What do you think, Bucky?” you fire back. “We’re stuck in a timeloop for eternity because we’ve tried the most obvious options and we’re still here.”

“Could be a lot cleaner, but this ain’t the worst place to get stuck for the rest of your life,” he tempts, arms crossed behind his head, feeling a dull strain in his neck.

“We’re gonna be stuck here forever,” you say, dawning horror in your inflection. “I’m gonna be stuck with you for the rest of eternity.”

“So much for chivalry,” he says wryly.

“We need a new plan,” you digress hectically from the other side of the room.

“Here's one. I get some sleep, order some pizza in the next loop or two and–”

“No.”

“Fine, Thai works too. Whatever. Then we-”

“You don’t get it,” you snap abruptly. “Jesus Christ, this is literally my worst fucking nightmare. Either help or leave.”

He pries both eyes open at the sudden shift in your tone. He’s used to you snapping at him for his bullshit, and the favour was usually reciprocated, but not like this.

Your back is turned to him, but he can tell you’re breathing heavily as you check out the new gap you've created in the wall where the clock was, before turning around and lifting the entire machine in the center of the room.

“Hey,” he calls, voice gruff, slowly pushing himself off the floor.

You throw him a look, continuing to move pieces of newspaper and tools and check under it.

He watches you curse under your breath, lifting things too high and dropping them down a little too hard without flinching even once.

“Look,” he tries again, a little louder.

You flip the machine upside down, fully intending on taking it apart and putting it back together as if it was going to make a big difference.

“Grab the wrench. Or don't, I don't give a–”

Bucky grips your shoulder with a call of your name. It’s enough to get you to pause from sheer surprise at how close he suddenly positioned himself, considering it was a well known fact that Bucky hated people in his space.

“Listen to me. We’re going to get out of here,” he instructs, voice much more muted than you were used to. “But you have to calm down.”

You take in a deep breath, before it leaves in a shaky exhale. Whatever you’ve got levitating gently drops onto the ground.

“You’re panicking. I would be too if I wasn’t dead inside,” he notes, hands still on your shoulder firmly. “Do whatever you need to to get it out of your system. It’ll be easier to focus after that. We'll be out of here soon enough.”

“You seem awfully sure.” Your mouth curls into a half smile, but it drops as quickly as it came up.

“We’ll figure something out.” His shoulders rise and fall. “Got all the time in the world.”

You swallow the thickness in your throat, giving him a small nod.

“‘M sorry,” he says, eyes intense, and you know he’s talking about the nonchalance he showed earlier. “I was bein’ a prick.”

“Honestly, you being a prick is, like, the most normal part about this.”

“...thanks.”

“It’s fine, I could use some normal.” You brush it off with a slight smile. “You’re right. We should get some food. I’m hungry.”

“Alright,” he says, eyeing your features for a second more. “But you’re buying. Payback for making me clean up every floor twice.”

“Prick.”

His conversation with Steve from earlier that night comes back to him, the same time you take another breath to shake off the antsiness.

Bucky lifts a eyebrow to look more natural. “You still sure it’s me who needs self-actualisation? ‘Cause it sure seems that you’ve got a whole lot to talk about.”

You half-scoff, half-laugh. “Is that your way of saying I’ve got issues?”

“Just using your words.”

You watch him for a second, like you’re thinking about saying something. He tilts his head at how contemplative you look, only for you to open your mouth and ask,

“Say, do you think emotional baggage is hot?” you wiggle your brows. “‘Cause if you do, I’ve got a whole lot of it.”

He groans out loud, neck craning as his head drops back.

“Also,” you pose a bit more curiously, “you gonna let go of me any time soon or are we about to slow dance?”

Bucky’s hands immediately drop from your shoulder, taking a step back. “Fuck off.”

“I could, but I’d just respawn here in three hours.”

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but feel a bit relieved that you looked a lot less in distress.

You'd spent two loops doing a deep dive into timeloops, coming up with more possibilities to try out.

Leaving the building at each hour did nothing.

You spent 1 loop eating dinner and reaching out to scientists you knew on how to break out. Those who replied either said they weren't real, told you stuff you'd already figured out, or blocked you.

You even spent half a loop painstakingly combing through footage from earlier in the night to figure out if you'd fucked with anything by mistake that you were yet to correct, not noticing it so far because it had been so minor or mundane.

“Oh shit, I just noticed something,” you gape, pointing at the screen

Bucky pulls the little monitor closer to his face. “What?”

“You’re looking at me so much in these,” you remark, voice relaxing immediately. “What's up with that?”

“Maybe because you’re the only one talking,” Bucky fires back, irritatedly putting the camera back down, “and it’s not like there’s anything else to look at here.”

“So defensive,” you comment. “Just say you think I’m cute and move on.”

“Shut up.”

“Shut me up yourself, coward.”

To be clear, Bucky didn't realise he was looking at you that much. And now that you’ve pointed it out, he can’t really argue because he is doing it a lot more than he realised he was, even unconsciously sometimes.

“How many more timeloops till you run out of these lines?” he questions instead.

“How many more timeloops till you stop being a handsome son of a bitch?”

The clock tower may be cold, but he feels too warm all of a sudden.

“I swear, if this doesn’t work, I’m throwing the clock out the window,” you say, powers forcing the hands to speed through every hour and second at 2x speed.

Bucky doesn’t even look up at you from over his phone. “You throw it, you’re fixing it again.”

You stop trying to spin the hands when one of them creaks.

A few loops in and the growing frustration from the both of you manifests into tension that is palpable.

You'd spent a loop or two outside the tower so you didn't drive yourself insane. Without fail, you'd end up right back up watching the clock every single time the world outside struck 12.

Bucky’s done his fair share of attempts. Jacket on, jacket off. Holding the camera, being the one who led into the room, the one who led out.

Mainstream movies, obscure movies, video essays, podcasts.

“I don’t fuckin’ get it. What are we missing?” you pour over the options again, frustrated. “We’ve done everything. We’ve done combinations of things.”

“There’s something we’re missing,” he says, staring at the moon through the face. “Some detail.”

It's not like you can physically keep track of every variable. Everything resets the second it strikes 12, no matter what you changed.

“I think–”

He sends you a glance.

“Maybe if we–” you try before you stop altogether.

Bucky just stays quiet because at this point you've exhausted every option you can think of, to no avail.

He knows you don't want to say it.

But it's time you start accepting that you're well and truly stuck.

“Should write Maya an email,” he tells you. “Tell her we quit.”

You give him a smile, knowing it would never even make its way to her.

Still, you pull out your phone and let Bucky peek over your shoulder as you start typing, helpfully suggesting curses as you went.

____

You absentmindedly tinker with the machine, able to take it apart, fix it and put it back together by heart and in no time now.

“What was the last mission you guys did?” you inquire, rotating a gear between your fingers.

“Something small,” Bucky replies, voice steady. “Think it was just a recon in Detroit.”

“Do you miss it?”

“No,” he says resolutely. “Everyone got tired of them a long time ago, but we stick around, just in case.”

You spare him a glance. “When was the last time you actually relaxed?”

Bucky considers it for a second. “Wakanda. Wasn't exactly a vacation though.”

“New question. When was the last time you went on vacation?”

He raises an eyebrow, head twisting to look at you.

You place the gear in its place before picking up the oil dropper. “Don’t answer if you don’t wanna.”

He turns his head back to the ceiling, and all the spider webs lining it.

“Couple of years before I got drafted, my family took a day trip to Convey Island.” he reveals, voice low. “We were supposed to hit as many rides as we could but my sister was aboslutely fuckin’ taken by this damn steam engine they had running. Everyoe got sick of it after the second time so I stuck around with her. Must’a ridden that thing 5 times before she finally let up.”

You have half a smile on your face. “Did you like it?”

He can't really remember. He can't even remember if the rest of his family was actually there, or whether it was just him and Steve and Becca, or it was just him and Becca.

“I liked that she liked it,” he decides.

You nod, wiping a gear before putting it back, snickering lightly. “Was the last vacation you took really in the 1930s?”

He exhales a laugh. “Steve and I went to the Canyon once. It was near a mission location. He told me I'd been dyin’ to go there as a kid. I don't remember that, but he fuckin’ dragged me there by the collar. Not sure if that really counts– we were both bleeding pretty heavy for it to be a real holiday.”

“Steve would say it counts.”

“Steven’s never taken a vacation in his life.” Bucky snorts. “I don't think he physically knows how to relax.”

“I don't think I've ever seen that man sit still for more than a few minutes.”

“Fuckin' rich coming from you. How many jobs have you had? A million?”

You exhale a laugh. “Something like that.”

You push the pendulum with your finger, watching it swing back and forth.

“Where’d you stick the longest?” Bucky asks, hands supporting his head as he lies on the ground.

You take a second to think, picking up a gear you’d already cleaned, wiping it down again.

“When I just got out of Leviathan, I used to wait tables for this elderly lady who ran a bakery. Mrs. Mullens,” you say finally. “She was kinder than anyone else I'd met till then; gave me leftovers that didn’t get sold that day, and enough money to get on my feet. I must've been there, what, a year? Year and a half? I think that’s the longest I’ve stayed.”

“Why’d you quit?” He does his best to not sound too intrusive.

“One evening she slipped keys into my pocket and told me I could stay in the room above the cafe if I wanted. Realised I’d been there too long, so I left the state the next morning.”

Bucky’s eye twitches as he turns to look at you. “She gave you a place to stay and you skipped town?”

“Yeah.” You half-shrug. “Staying in a place too long feels– suffocating. I don’t know. Just knew it was time to leave.”

Bucky looks at you strangely, mind inadvertently trying to piece together a bunch of information.

Working on a hunch, he tests, “You got family out there somewhere?”

“I was literally created in a lab,” you deadpan. “I don’t have a family. Unless you count test tubes.”

“It doesn't have to be mean literally.” He arches an eyebrow. “What about Nat?”

“Nat’s a friend.” you disclose, holding a cog up to check for any stains, “The Avengers aren’t my family the same way they are for you. They’re great, but it’s just another job.”

Oh.

“Right,” he says, settling back into his position, feeling a frown on his face.

“I haven’t really found what you’re asking me about,” you add, and he knows you're trying to be kind.

He isn't sure what he thought the team was to you. He isn't sure what he feels about the new information either.

“What’s it feel like?”

“What?” he asks distractedly.

“Having people like that,” you clarify. “Maybe if I know what it feels like I’ll know when it happens.”

You’ve all but asked the most emotionally constipated man on earth what family feels like to him.

So reasonaly, Bucky blanks.

Literally every single interaction with the dead and the living exits his mind.

And so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind,

“Silent blenders.”

And then he cringes.

“Is that the name of a movie or…” you trail off.

“No. They got me blenders that don’t make a sound. It was a nice gift,” he mumbles.

You wait for him to provide even a little more context. He instead shifts uncomfortably.

“Okay,” you allow, looking back down. “Silent blenders. Got it.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second more, and his head starts throbbing.

Instead, he dodges. “Guess you’re not gonna stick around for too long then, huh?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “I was always going to just bounce after this was done. I thought you knew that.”

“Right,” he repeats. “Where you headed next?”

“Who knows?” you mull over. “I could go anywhere. You got any reccs?”

He doesn’t really have an answer for you. Bucky can’t imagine packing up and leaving again. Living life never knowing when he can finally take a seat. He’s spent so long wrestling with the turbulence of having multiple identities that he clings to what little semblance of stability he can find.

But a tiny voice in the recess of his mind whispers to him that maybe the reason he's stayed at the same place for so long is the same reason you can’t.

He has a half formed hypothesis. And then soon comes to the conclusion that he really has no business deriving theories about you like that… but he’d be lying if he said he didnt store it in his head for later.

He also doesn't know why there's a strange churning in his stomach, a deeply uncomfortable feeling that he hasn't really felt in years. It makes him want to get up and leave.

“Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gonna leave eventually doesn’t mean we’re not friends.” You snap him out of his first great attempt to understand human emotions other than annoyance.

He hums. “I wouldn't call us that.”

“You’re right, we’re star crossed lovers.”

“I feel bad for the next person who has to deal with you.”

You laugh, swinging the pendulum into motion and wiping your hands down.

You’d taken turns sleeping in two of the time loops, keeping watch while the other rested for a while.

Only when you're asleep does Bucky fully comprehend how quiet it is in there.

The clouds cover the moon. The floorboards don't make much noise even as he walks around.

He's lost track of how many 9pms it's been.

He doesn't know why it’s lingering in his mind like this. Probably because he had only thought of her a couple of hours ago.

He knows you suggested it as a joke but he can't help but wonder.

What if it was actually him keeping the both of you here?

He really thought he'd made amends. He'd been living as peacefully as he was able to. And yeah, he's a dick, but he wasn't outright evil.

Or so he thought.

Maybe he hadn’t repented as hard as he’d needed to.

“Becks,” he calls quietly. “If you can hear me– I'm sorry.”

No one responds. You don't stir.

He forces himself to exhale and continue, “I know you'd hate what I turned into, but I'm tryin’ here. I promise.”

He wishes a damn piece of paper would give him a sign on what to do, or at least tell him there was no coming back. That he should probably resign himself to his fate.

“You should've had someone who coulda shielded you. Given you a chance to be a kid.” He swallows down the stone in his throat. “I know you're mad, Peanut. I'm really fuckin’ sorry. You deserved a whole lot better.”

And then he waits, and waits some more, ears straining for anything– a giggle, a scrape. He doesn't know what he expected, but he gets nothing.

Only a draft blows through the window.

A shiver runs through you, and you curl into yourself, but thankfully you still don't wake. Bucky has no idea how he’d explain this to you anyway.

Still, he quietly makes his way towards you, shrugging off his jacket and draping it across you carefully, watching as you relax again.

He blows out an exhale, watching the minutes tick by.

“Do you think we’re gonna get old here or do we reset every time the loop resets?” you ask aloud.

“Our clothes kept regenerating with us, so I guess we keep resetting too.”

You hum. “Damn, we can’t even grow old together.”

Bucky adds nothing, only turning to you with a deadpan expression.

“What?” you ask.

“What?” he counters. “No old person jokes this time?”

“There’s no fun if you're expecting it,” you sigh.

“Incredible,” he replies, monotonous.

There’s silence. He hears wind rustle through the room.

You sit up, and he can feel your eyes boring into him.

“What?” he asks again.

“Does it upset you?” you ask somberly. “When I make those jokes?”

“No,” he replies. “They’re fine.”

“And when I keep using pickup lines on you– does that make you uncomfortable?” you continue, however, much to his surprise.

He turns to you with his eyebrows lowered. “Since when does that matter?”

“It matters,” you say quietly. “I knew it annoyed you, I didn’t know they made you uncomfortable.”

He stares at you for a long while, before settling on, “They don’t.”

“Sure?”

“I don’t care.” He looks ahead. “I’ll tell you if they do.”

“Okay,” you relent. “If you say so.”

He shakes his head, feeling a strange sort of feeling settle in his chest. He can’t say he hates it, but he would rather not deal with it.

“Bein’ in here’s making you weird.”

You narrow your eyes. “The fuck does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” he asserts.

“I’m being totally normal, you’ve just refused to hang out with me so you wouldn’t know what that is.”

“I see you every week.”

“For video shoots.”

“We hang out otherwise,” he scoffs, suddenly feeling very offended. “We literally went to the store the other day.”

“To buy batteries,” you emphasize. “For the video shoots.”

“We’ve gone to the park,” he exclaims, sitting up. “And we eat lunch together sometimes. And we watched that stupid fuckin’ movie in theatres at midnight twice because you lied the second time and told me it was another one – what was it called? Metropolis?”

“Megalopolis,” you say, amused at his outburst.

“That. Garbage fuckshit. And we’ve taken the cat–”

“Alpine.”

“I know her name,” he hisses. “To the vet. And that’s all in the last month.”

“Jeez, you keep a journal every time we hang out? What are you, obsessed with me?” you ask, trying to bite back a shit-eating grin.

“Point is,” he grits. “We hang out.”

Fuck. Turns out, maybe Steve was right.

“Tomato, tomahto,” you dismiss. “You’re so obsessed with details. You could’ve just said you’re in love with me and moved on instead of bringing out the whole Excel sheet of every minute we spent together.”

“I hate you,” he groans, dropping back down.

You laugh. It makes the corner of his mouth curl up, just a little.

“What’s the time?” he asks, blowing out an exhale from his nose.

“Like 11:30?,” you sigh.

“That’s all?” He wants to groan again.

“Does it matter? We’re stuck here forever. We can get more takeout in the next loop.”

“You’re paying.”

“I paid last time, asshole.”

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Tomato, tomahto.”

“Touché.”

You spin a gear in the air, waiting for the hour to pass.

It suddenly hits him. Something that you'd shown across episodes of witchcraft and haunted hospitals.

Something you showed literally three minutes ago.

If this worked, he’d probably hug you and your stupid, chaos incarnate self.

“Come on, let’s get this clock fixed,” he grumbles, getting back up on his feet.

“What?”

“I think you’re right,” he says, sticking his arm out to help you up.

“Huh?” you blink at him. “I know the footage is gonna get erased again, but I need you to say that into the camera once for me. And state that you’re of sound mind and body while you’re at it.”

He sends you a look. “Come on.”

“I fixed it already, Bucky.”

“What’s the time?” He ignores you.

“Nearly 12,” you tell him, checking your phone.

“Need you to be precise.”

“Why?”

“Humour me,” he says calmly. “Details are for losers, remember?”

“11:57 and 32 seconds.”

He manually winds the big arm up, the short hand still following. Until the seconds ticker matches the time you were calling out, down to the last second.

“What are you doing?” you enquire curiously, peeking over his shoulder.

“Making it match real time,” he tells you. “Properly.”

He checkes gears and pushes pendulums and everything works like it’s brand new. You’d gotten real good at this.

“11:59 and 43 seconds,” you call.

Bucky closes his eyes, forcing his breath to remain steady. It’s the first time that evening he’s had more than a sliver of hope.

“57 seconds,” you say quietly, voice tired.

And then there's silence.

He doesn't have the energy to open his eyes and find the machinery back to scraps.

But eventually he does. And when he opens it again, you’re still standing there, near the machine. Not the entrance of the room.

The clock reads 12:02.

He turns to you, calmly saying, “Let’s get out of here.”

The drive back home is silent, apprehensive with tension tight as a stretched rubber band. Like if you breathed too hard, you'd find yourself back in the dark room.

You step in the elevator together, pressing the buttons for your floor and his.

He doesn’t know whether it’s the fear or the fact that you've now spent several hours together when time didn’t make sense, but the ride up is slower than usual.

Bucky stands with his back pressed to the wall of the elevator, eyes closed, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“It never occured to me,” your voice is quiet. “It’s the one thing I didn’t think of because I was so focused on getting out.”

“Didn't think of it either.” Bucky’s shoulders shrug, eyes closed. “Not your fault.”

“Kinda is.”

“I would've realised earlier if I paid attention,” he counters.

You stare at him.

“Are you done or should I keep going?”

You blow out an exhale. “This game sucks.”

“Don't play this shit with me. It's the one thing I'm good at.”

The elevator dings, creeping open on his floor.

He stays right where, back pressed against the wall, unmoving.

“It's your floor,” you inform.

“I know.”

The door waits a few seconds before it closes.

It finally reaches your floor, opening with a bright ding.

He watches you step out, casting an unsure look towards him.

You gesture awkwardly, “Do you need anything?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes still closed.

“What are– oh,” you stop all of a sudden. “Is this your way of walking me to my door?”

Bucky’s face doesn’t betray any expression. “See you later.”

You fight a smile, raising two fingers to give him a wave.

He gives you a small nod as the door closes on him, reaching forward to press the button to his floor again.

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tojiscrack · 1 day ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

summary: 12.1k words — you attend jujutsu high’s saturday football game on time, but arrive unintentionally late to another event, which spurs more consequences than you initially imagined

notes: it’s extremely late as i type this up (nearly 4am) but i wanted to get this one out asap for my two talented artists @kickingcat and @azr3na ! <3 you guys have made writing this story so much more enjoyable knowing that i have some AWESOME art to check out every once in a while, and it motivates me to write better quality work 🤧 for that, this chapter is dedicated to the both of you! tysm for ur hard work, it truly shows in the quality of your drawing! <3

tw: swearing, mentions of infidelity and cheating, demons, rituals, mentions of brutal murder, i think that’s all lol

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the late saturday afternoon sun beamed brightly over jujutsu high's football field, casting long shadows across the trimmed grass.

the stands were packed with spectators, a sea of navy blue with pops of lighter blue from the cheer squad's uniforms, which shimmered with metallic accents under the sunlight. the players, clad in their dark blue jerseys with gold trim, huddled on the sidelines, their helmets glinting. you could spot players number one and two — yuji and megumi — from where you were positioned with satoru, who had you held up over his shoulders to showcase the large poster you and nobara had spent hours decorating; she was currently lined up with the rest of the cheerleaders on the track, pom-poms shaking in time to a peppy chant, while the faint scent of hot dogs and popcorn wafted from the concession stands.

on the opposing side, ridgeview high prepared for battle. their colours (a striking crimson and white) stood out against the green field as their players jogged through last-minute warm-ups, their jerseys spotless and sharp. similarly, their cheerleaders wore matching crimson skirts with white trim, their coordinated cheers echoing across the field as they tried to rival the noise from you and your peers on the stands.

the game had begun with ridgeview high immediately showing you why they were team you should be worried about, their offence tearing through jujutsu high's defence with precision passes and swift runs. by the end of the first quarter, ridgeview had been leading by two touchdowns, their crimson-and-gold-clad players celebrating wildly under the late morning sun.

panda, your school mascot that had been part of nobara's cheerleading group at the front, had let out a roar of disappointment. you raised your brows at the sound — he truly was yaga's son.

"they bulldozed us," you commented, your arms growing tired from holding up your pink, sparkly poster. you held it to your chest as coach yaga called back the team for a pep talk: he did not look pleased. "it's gonna be so embarrassing if we lose. i was talking so much smack to one of their players on twitter."

"we're not gonna lose," satoru reassured you from below, patting your thigh as though your worries weren't rational. "but if — we won't, obviously — but on the very rare occasion that we do, we know who to blame."

you nodded. "player number two."

"exactly! player number t— wait that's megumi," satoru frowned, throwing his head back so he could look up at you. you thought he looked odd upside down.

"mhm," you hummed, waiting for the next play to commence. "it's his fault 'cause... 'cause i say so."

"nah, that's a shitty reason," said satoru, looking back at the field where the players were preparing to commence the second play. "it's only okay if i say so — don't pull my hair, ow!"

you had given him a firm tug, fed up with his antics as he shook your hand off his head, causing you to sway slightly on his shoulders. you quickly regained your balance, gripping his head tightly.

"stop squirming," you muttered, giving him another light thump, to which he groaned but didn't retaliate. instead, he tilted his chin up defiantly.

"as i was saying," he continued, his tone matter-of-fact, as though explaining the newton's law, "it's not megumi's fault when you really pay attention to player nine's form."

you looked around, brows furrowed.

"player nine?" you repeated lowly, searching for the number on each jersey. the players had begun to disperse, but you spotted nine next to seven, his arm extended to pat his friend.

you frowned, confused when the realisation of who was beneath the helmet had clicked to you.

"that's kamo," you spoke aloud, both to yourself and to satoru, who let out a low whistle below you.

"yeah?" he responded, before lowering his voice down to a level where you were certain that if you had not been sitting propped up on his shoulders, you would have missed it. "unsurprising."

you pulled down your poster to hit his face, his immediate reaction to become frantic, risking you falling off.

"stop!" you demanded, panicked.

"your fault for being smart enough to pick a fight with the same person who's holding you up."

he wasn't wrong there, you accepted to yourself silently.

the game restarted with renewed energy, and you and satoru had started loudly cheering for both megumi and yuji, your voices blending with the collective roar of the crowd. you continued to wave your pink, sparkly poster energetically above your head, waiting for megumi to catch sight of it, for it had been tailored to specifically piss him off.

midway through the quarter, the ball was in yuji's possession, who skilfully dodged two ridgeview defenders with quick footwork. he spotted megumi sprinting downfield, and with a perfectly timed pass, the ball soared through the air. megumi leaped, catching it cleanly despite pressure from a ridgeview line-backer. and with incredible focus, he charged forwards, weaving through the defence, and managed to cross the goal line just before being tackled.

all at once, the crowd erupted as the referee signalled a touchdown, jujutsu high having finally closed the gap in the score. you and satoru cheered wildly, his excitement nearly knocking you off balance on his shoulders.

from the middle of the celebratory huddle, megumi's gaze wandered upwards, begrudgingly enduring the pats and slaps on his back from his ecstatic teammates. his expression (though difficult to see very well from where you were) was one of mild irritation, his posture stiff among the jubilant chaos.

you tried not to laugh.

he hated hugging, especially when it came from people he was not particularly close with, and anyone could tell. he did not do much to hide his distaste, after all.

as his eyes drifted above the sea of helmets, they landed on you and satoru in the stands, and when his expression had become stonier than it was during the hug attacks from his fellow teammates, you knew he spotted the poster.

amid the sea of sparkly pink glitter, obnoxiously bold bubble letters read "YUJI AND MEGUMI <3" in a mix of hot pink and light pink, glimmering in the sunlight. the glaring issue, however, had been the centrepiece: a photo of him, clearly edited, showing a toothy, radiant smile he had never once produced in real life.

you'd used a face app since he never smiled.

yuji's face was on the other side of the poster, but you'd made sure to decorate his side normally. after all, his picture had remained unedited due to the fact that he knew how to smile.

the over-the-top embellishments, featuring musa from winx club and draculaura from monster high, made the megumi's side of the poster even more ridiculous.

you laughed when he took his helmet off to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, though his teammates mistook his reaction for post-touchdown exhaustion.

"woohoo! porcupine!" you cheered supportively.

he only slammed his helmet back on his head and turned away, returning to the game with more drive in his steps.

"sir!" someone from behind you called out loudly. "mr gojo! we can't — we can't see! you're in the way —"

"you'll get over it," satoru called back cheerfully.

the game had eventually ended with jujutsu high sealing a victory in the final moments. the cheerleaders' blue pom-poms shimmered in the afternoon sun as the football team huddled together in celebration, and you had realised with ringing ears, how you'd never heard such loud cheers erupt from the stands the way that they had that saturday afternoon.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the room was chaos.

sukuna moved like a predator, his every step deliberate, his grin wide and mocking as he toyed with nobara. still, in her anger, she lunged at him, fist raised, her ferocity unshaken despite the bruises already darkening her skin. each of her attacks had been met with infuriating ease, sukuna parrying her strikes with casual movements that radiated his overwhelming strength. it was clear she was losing — her breaths were ragged, her stance faltering, but she pressed on regardless.

megumi was holding his sprained ankle, trying to find a way to stand on it that didn't feel like his entire leg was going to give.

every instinct told him to intervene, to distract sukuna long enough to pull nobara out of his reach, but doing so would be futile anyway, for his ankle had been annoyingly holding him back.

he gritted his teeth, glancing at the time on his phone.

you weren't here.

you had promised you'd come.

despite your tutoring session with kamo, you'd insisted that you wouldn't miss this. but now, with sukuna wreaking havoc and nobara barely holding her own, your absence stung, and megumi bitterly wondered to himself...

were you running late? or had you decided that turning up just wasn't worth the trouble?

his fingers tightened into fists. he didn't have time to dwell on your absence, yet it still lingered at the back of his mind like a haunting ghost, sour.

sukuna laughed for the nth time within the same hour — a cruel, echoing sound — as he knocked nobara's hairclips (which she'd been using to fight, somehow) out of her grip, sending her sprawling. megumi cursed under his breath, standing on his injured foot and pulling nobara back by her shoulder, putting himself between her and the demon possessing his friend's face.

"why do you keep coming back every twenty-ninth like we summoned you?" he demanded angrily, scowling when sukuna tore through another one of yuji's hoodies. this was getting really annoying.

"because you did summon me, megumi fushiguro!" sukuna roared back, his expression manic as he swung at megumi, his nails elongated to try and poke at his eye. megumi was pulled back by nobara's quick reaction time. "you summoned me once, now i'll return every month on the same day!"

"where's y/n?" megumi asked nobara, his head tilted slightly so he could glance at both sukuna and nobara at the same time. "she should be here by now —"

"i killed her!"

megumi and nobara exchanged a glance at sukuna's words, their reactions starkly contrasting. nobara's face flickered with confusion, her brows knitting together as if trying to decide whether sukuna was being serious or merely taunting them — it wouldn't be the first time, after all.

meanwhile, megumi's lip curled in pure disgust, his sharp glare piercing through sukuna's smug grin. the idea of you being dead — especially as an offhand joke — churned something bitter in his stomach, but he knew better than to react, for sukuna thrived on eliciting emotion, and megumi wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.

it was a stupid thing to say anyway. megumi did not like dramatics unless it came from you.

"is that... even possible?" nobara began, sounding uncertain.

"no," said megumi, brows furrowed, "obviousl—"

"— how would you know?" sukuna snapped, suddenly dropping to the floor to grip at megumi's injured ankle. megumi let out a hiss of pain as he kicked him off, but it had not been an easy feat, for sukuna's grip was iron-tight. "i ripped her body apart!"

nobara and megumi both worked simultaneously to take sukuna away from megumi's foot, but he was too strong.

"she said she's running a little late but she'll be here!" nobara hurriedly explained to the injured male, pulling at yuji's — sukuna's — hair.

he did not like that, choosing to release megumi's ankle in favour of jumping at nobara's neck.

"the library's not too far from here —" megumi snapped, throwing his arms over sukuna's shoulders from behind and pulling him away from nobara, holding him against his chest as hard as he could, "— hold and tie his arms — it shouldn't take her this long to — shit — get here!"

sukuna laughed menacingly. "she is in her tomb —"

"she — didn't — explain!" nobara said through heaved breaths; sukuna had been making it difficult to grab at his arms, swinging them back and forth with clenched fists, attempting to punch her away.

megumi let out a pained grunt, trying to shift his weight on his other foot. "well text her again —"

nobara widened her eyes at him, her pupils darting from sukuna to megumi to the mess made out of the room.

"— how?"

"SHE IS DEA—"

nobara karate chopped at sukuna's head, apparently having had enough of his constant interference with her conversation.

"can you speak when you are SPOKEN TO?"

furious with her attack at him, he roughly shrugged megumi off his back and immediately grabbed nobara's hair, pulling it harshly so she'd fallen to her knees before him.

"how dare you?" he began, contorting yuji's friendly brows into something more menacing. "this is where you belong, woman. at my f—" he stopped himself, looking over his shoulder at the sound of megumi's clumsy footsteps closing in on him. he immediately spun around and wrapped his hands around megumi's neck, tightening them to cut off his airways. nobara sprung into action immediately, trying to ease the iron-tight grip the demon had on her friend.

"what the he—"

"let go of him — oh my god —"

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS ONE MENTIONING THE OTHER BRAT!" sukuna stated stormily, eyes glinting a dangerous red. megumi could see the extra sets of eyes blinking back at him as he choked for breath. it was not a pleasant sight. "YOU WANT TO KNOW WHERE SHE IS? HOW ABOUT I LET YOU JOIN HER —"

"she's not dead!" nobara argued indignantly, her face growing pale at the vulnerability of megumi's state, "and would you get your disgusting claws off him?"

megumi's annoyance towards you burned in the back of his mind, barely tempered by his dwindling focus on survival.

you should've been here by now — how much longer was a simple tutoring session supposed to last? controlling sukuna was already a monumental challenge with three people; with only him and nobara, it felt like a hopeless endeavour, for the demon was too strong, too fast, and far too unpredictable. if you had been present, your support could have made all the difference...

or so he angrily justified to himself, as sukuna's nails bit deeper into his neck.

suddenly, the demon's grip loosened, and megumi had stumbled backwards, gasping for air.

but his reprieve hadn't been born of any mercy; it was a deliberate, mocking act.

sukuna had simply grown bored and wanted a new target.

with a sinister laugh, he threw megumi to the ground like a discarded rag doll before turning his attention to nobara, his lips curling into a gleeful sneer, his red eyes narrowing dangerously as he advanced towards her.

"why are you looking at me like that?" asked nobara, and while it might have sounded like she was being fierce and angry, megumi could sense the underlying fear in her voice.

"famous last words," sukuna teased, and megumi could have sworn he'd seen the tattoos on his body move in excitement.

but before anyone could say or do anything, sukuna's ears had wiggled, almost like demon dog's when he spotted satoru's expensive dog treats.

then, his head spun to glance at the door, which was now opened to make room for you, panting and wide-eyed, one hand holding onto the knob, the other closed around the spare key yuji had given you the night before.

your gaze swept over the chaotic scene: the dishevelled nobara, the bruised and gasping megumi on the ground, and sukuna's imposing form towering over them. the blood drained from your face as you locked eyes with the demon, his sinister grin widening like a predator spotting new prey.

"finally!" sukuna hissed, his voice dripping with venomous delight. his head tilted unnaturally, the extra eyes on his face narrowing with malevolent excitement. "the stupid chatterbox is here!"

"lock the door!" nobara ordered you as sukuna sprinted in your direction.

you slammed the door shut behind you with a resounding bang, shoving the key into the lock with practiced precision, and just as sukuna's body crashed against it with a deafening thud, you deftly sidestepped to avoid the impact, letting out a sigh of relief at how he had narrowly missed you.

with a swift twist of the key, the lock clicked into place just in time, and you tossed the key at nobara with wide eyes.

sukuna let out a loud howl of frustration. "you haven't even been here a minute and you are already such a NUISANCE!"

"i didn't even do anything — woah!"

megumi had speedily scrambled to his wobbly feet to pull you away from the danger that was sukuna by your shoulders. your back had met the wall harshly, making you let out a gasp of something in between pain and stupor, brows furrowed at his eerily cold expression.

it seemed that you were not aware of just how much wreckage sukuna could cause with one less person.

"where were you?" megumi asked, as sukuna made an attempt to rip the doorknob off; nobara had reached up and pulled his hair so he was stumbling backwards away from the door.

"the library —"

"— for that long?"

the crease between your brows had started to deepen as you blinked up at him.

"i never said i'd make it on time," you responded, as he stepped back and looked over his shoulder to see if nobara was in any danger; she had everything handled. "i told you i'd be late," you added, eyes widening as you pushed past him to help nobara with sukuna, but megumi had let out a pained grunt, making you stop in your tracks and eye him carefully. "are you okay?"

"fine," he said, failing to hide his limp.

you looked between nobara, sukuna, megumi, and the rest of the mess around the room, blinking confusedly.

"all of this happened 'cause i was gone for a bit?" you marvelled, shocked.

"can barely survive with three of us," nobara huffed over sukuna's loud threats, throwing the key that sukuna had been actively trying to retrieve over to megumi, who caught it with ease. "he nearly escaped six times with just megumi and i! shit, help me!"

you sprung into action, throwing your school bag aside to pull sukuna away from nobara.

"why is he shirtless again?" you said, squeaking when he shoved you away, stumbling into megumi by accident.

"how dare you touch me with your female fingers —"

"okay i'm sorry oh my god!" you cried, hands going up to shield your face from his onslaught of punches, but this action had done nothing to hide the level of pain that had shot up every area he targeted. "ow — stop!"

the room descended into more chaos as sukuna launched into a furious assault. his movements were wild yet calculated, his strikes unrelenting as he aimed to incapacitate everyone in the room.

he had decided to lunged at you first, his nails raking through the air as you ducked just in time, tripping backwards into megumi once again, but this time, megumi had instinctively shoved you aside to take sukuna's punch directly. he had stumbled as a result, but remained upright, apparently determined to shield you and nobara from further harm.

nobara, meanwhile, had grabbed the nearest object — a chair, for the sharpest objects had been wisely taken out of the room for everyone's safety — and swung it with all her strength at sukuna's back. the impact had barely fazed him, but it gave you just enough time to grab a textbook from your bag and hurl it at his head; the book smacked him squarely in the face, and he growled, red eyes glowing with rage.

"really, woman?" sukuna snarled, wiping his face with yuji's arm. "a book?"

he picked it up and tore it in front of your eyes, grinning grimly at your expression.

the book was a hardback.

"hey, kento lent that to me!" you complained angrily, before quickly scrambling out of reach as he advanced again, reminding yourself that you were talking to a demon.

nobara tackled him from the side, trying to pin his arms, but he effortlessly shrugged her off, sending her crashing into the desk.

megumi, visibly struggling, grabbed a metal ruler and jabbed it at sukuna's ribs, drawing a rare wince of discomfort.

"get the rope!" he barked at you, and you immediately darted to the corner of the room, pulling out the frayed cord you'd used before to subdue yuji when he'd started acting erratically.

the three of you worked in frantic synchronisation, trying to dodge sukuna's attacks and pull the rope taut around him whenever an opening appeared. nobara distracted him by tossing books and binders from your bag in his path, while you and megumi spent the time looping the rope around his torso.

sukuna's strength had been overwhelming, but each loop of the rope restricted his movements a little more, and you had managed to tie a final knot with shaking hands, backing away as he thrashed against his bindings.

for a moment, silence fell, save for sukuna's heavy breathing and the sound of everyone else gasping for air. then, with a sinister smirk, he chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"you think this will hold me?"

"let's hope so," megumi muttered, leaning against the wall, his ankle burning, "because i'm out of ideas."

in the brief moments the three of you used to catch your breath, the respite proved to be tragically short-lived...

sukuna, his muscles rippling with unrestrained malice, had managed to tear through the ropes with almost insulting ease. the frayed ends of the cord fell to the ground as he stood there, grinning like a wolf savouring its cornered prey, rolling his shoulders as though loosening the tension in his body.

"since you're all so determined to waste my time," he sneered, his voice dripping with cruel amusement, "why don't we take a little trip down memory lane? after all, it's only fitting to reminisce before you all meet your end." his voice lowered into a chilling purr. "let's relive our first encounter, shall we?"

"what does that mean?" you began slowly.

he did not clarify...

and with that, sukuna's movements became terrifyingly calculated.

in a matter of minutes, he recreated the chaotic tableau from the day he had first terrorised your group: you found yourself yanked by the arm and hoisted up onto the curtain rail, your body dangling precariously as the flimsy structure groaned under your weight. nobara was shoved to the ground, her hair a wild, tangled mess as she clutched her arm, a fresh scrape bleeding through her torn sleeve. and megumi, breathing heavily with one hand braced on the wall, was forced to limp to the side, his injured ankle trembling under the strain.

sukuna stood amidst the wreckage, laughing with unrestrained glee at his handiwork, savouring the helplessness etched into each of your faces.

right, he thought to himself, watching the room and remembering the exact position he'd been in several months ago in february. this is what he meant...

his eyed had met sukuna's, and the demon's patience wore thin.

"where's the key?" he demanded, his tone sharp and unforgiving.

megumi felt for it in his pocket of his pants, but defiantly refused to give it up, his silence very obviously fuelling sukuna's frustration. with a growl of annoyance, the demon's lips curled into a sinister grin, and he made a split-second decision.

if words wouldn't pry the information from megumi, brute force would suffice, apparently, for he marched to the door and, with a single powerful strike, shattered the doorknob entirely.

megumi knew it was too late, and so did you, for he heard you groan from the ceiling.

"oh my god..."

the door had creaked open, but before sukuna could take a triumphant step into freedom, he stopped short.

his confidence wavered for the first time as his gaze met the person standing in the doorway.

it wasn't choso, as it had been during everyone's first encounter...

it was satoru.

megumi had never been so pleased to see the tall man, not that he'd ever tell him that.

he looked amused, his own grin widening as sukuna's faltered, and for a moment, the room held its collective breath.

and then he spoke:

"what, you're a gangster now, yuji?"

sukuna's expression twisted in disdain the instant satoru referred to him as yuji.

his lip curled, baring teeth in a snarl as he raised a fist, ready to strike, but before the blow could connect, satoru had moved with lightning speed, effortlessly grabbing sukuna's wrist and twisting his arm behind his back in one fluid motion. you could barely register what was going on from where you were hung, viewing the world from an upside down lens, but you caught how satoru, with a well-placed foot, swept sukuna's legs from under, sending him crashing to the floor with a resounding thud that made the entire room tremble.

"heh, that's sick! — i got your text, y/n," he grinned as he ignored sukuna's furious growl beneath him and straightened up, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve with an air of exaggerated nonchalance.

his attention turned to nobara.

and a laugh erupted from him, loud and unrestrained, as his eyes took in her disheveled state.

"but i guess i'm a little late," he declared with delighted amusement, eyes sparkling as nobara swatted her wild hair in annoyance, "i've never seen you this ugly."

he helped her up despite his teasing, her eyes widening as she glanced at sukuna, who was speeding towards the open door.

"the door!" she yelled, but satoru's long legs were proven to be convenient, slamming the door shut before he grabbed sukuna by the shoulder and forced him backwards.

"gonna have to do an exorcism," he explained all the while, pulling out a small, plain, and black book from the wide pocket of his large jacket.

at that, sukuna's roar filled the room, a feral, deafening sound that reverberated through the walls like thunder.

"AN EXORCISM?" he laughed, his back against the lower wall. it seemed that the mesh of yuji's and sukuna's strength was no match for satoru's adult strength, which made sense, as sukuna did not have full control over yuji as of now. you thanked the lord silently. "I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY!"

yet satoru moved through it as if his bellows were the soothing hum of a lullaby, steps measured and unhurried; his eyes, sharp with amusement and calm confidence, flicked to you, still dangling precariously from the curtain rod like a forgotten puppet.

he looked even more like an idiot to you upside-down.

but you would tell him that after you got his help.

with an effortless grace that betrayed his strength, he reached up and steadied you, his hands firm but careful as he eased you down.

"upsie daisy!" he said, as the world spun right-side up again the second your feet had touched the floor.

you slumped against the wall with exhaustion, the blood that had rushed to your head moving back down again.

but you could not rest there for long, for satoru had swiftly ushered everyone out of the room with a wave of his hand. nobara had stormed ahead, muttering about how this should have been handled earlier, while you followed, glancing nervously over your shoulder.

was it safe for satoru to be left alone with the demon, who was now eyeing nobara as she began closing the distance between herself and the door?

megumi had lagged behind, wincing with every step, which did not go amiss by satoru, who tilted his head slightly to meet his eye.

"i'll drive you to shoko's, yeah?" he asked, his tone gentler but still carrying a teasing lilt.

but megumi shook his head firmly, refusing the offer as he bit the inside of his cheek.

"i'm fine," he said, and that was how the three of you found yourselves lingering outside yuji's door, leaning against the wall as tension hung heavy in the air.

from within, the sounds of sukuna's fury erupted.

a guttural roar rattled the walls, followed by a sinister, bone-chilling laugh that sent a shiver down your spine. there were loud thuds and crashes as if furniture was being flung across the room, and knowing sukuna, there was absolutely a chance that that was exactly what had been going on behind the door, each sound punctuated by the sharp crack of splintering wood.

amidst the chaos, sukuna's mocking snarls could be heard over satoru's carefree chuckles, his taunting voice carrying effortlessly through the door.

"that all you got?" satoru teased, his words dripping with amused arrogance. "i was expecting more — hah! nearly got me there! — the way she described you."

another earth-shaking bang followed, sukuna roaring in frustration while satoru continued to laugh, as calm and amused as if he were playing a game instead of exorcising a feral demon.

the three of you exchanged concerned looks with one another.

"he's gonna get himself killed, teasing sukuna like that," nobara muttered, leaning against the wall opposite the door in the dark hallway.

"he's survived worse," you responded, moving your head away from the door with a flinch at the sudden bang that had followed.

nobara raised a brow. "like?"

"toji —"

"watch it," megumi growled from below without missing a beat; he had been sitting against the wall, a hand on his injured ankle.

the three of you waited in silence, the sounds of sukuna's threats, satoru's chuckles, and every other bang and crash that followed filling the space like white noise.

you glanced down at your friend's ankle, lips pursed.

"is it sprained?" you asked carefully.

he didn't look up when he replied.

"don't know," he shrugged, his tone clipped. "it's fine."

there was a short pause.

bang!

BANG!

megumi scowled. "how come you were late?"

the weight of megumi's question settled heavily in your chest, sharp and pointed, like a blade that hadn't quite drawn blood but hovered threateningly close.

he wasn't being harsh — not exactly — but there was something probing about his tone, and the way his eyes flickered to yours at your silence, dark and expectant, made it feel more like an inquiry than casual conversation.

you couldn't blame him.

sukuna's near-escape had been catastrophic enough, and now megumi was injured because you hadn't been there on time. still, the timing of the question prickled at you, as though he were peeling back layers you hadn't offered to reveal, and for a fleeting moment, a sense of guilt tangled with unease tightened in your throat.

"the bus was delayed," you answered honestly, "so i texted satoru."

the way megumi's glance had intensified was almost comical. "you thought he'd come on time?" he asked.

"no, but he was better than anyone else," you said, pressing your ear to the door again and remaining unsurprised when sukuna had let out an excited laugh.

"if maki didn't have wushu practice right now, we could've called her," said nobara, who was now standing by the hallway mirror and flattening down her hair to make it appear less dishevelled. "she'd give sukuna a good run for his money."

"you should visit shoko," you suggested, looking down at megumi with raised brows. your ear was still pressed against the door, but it was eerily silent now. you frowned. "she can patch you up," you added wisely.

megumi shook his head. "she'll also ask questions."

he had a good point.

the silence behind the door stretched, unnervingly still. you could hear the occasional creak of floorboards, but no sounds of sukuna's chaotic laughter or the clash of any furniture that had been so familiar only moments ago.

it was almost as if the battle behind the wall separating you from him and satoru had never happened, leaving behind a heavy stillness that made your skin crawl.

frowning, you glanced at the others, noticing they were all waiting with bated breath for some sign from the other side, but nothing came...

not a peep, not a whisper, just that oppressive quiet.

suddenly, the door had swung open, and the faintest scuffling noise echoed in the hallway. you had instinctively taken a step back, eyes widening as satoru reappeared, a half-conscious yuji draped over his shoulder like a ragdoll, his limbs limp and face pale. the sight alone was enough to send a wave of unease through you: you hadn't realized how much you'd been holding your breath until now.

"all right, everyone, move it," satoru called out, his voice as casual as ever. "car's outside and— stop looking so worried! ijichi's not here! c'mon now."

his tone brooked no argument, and you all instinctively began to shuffle towards the exit.

nobara, ever the sceptic, gave a sharp look at the limp form of yuji. "why's he coming with us? can't he just stay in his room and sleep it off?"

satoru's expression was serious for a fraction of a second before his usual smirk returned. "just in case sukuna decides to pop back in for round two," he replied, his words matter-of-fact but laced with an edge that made it clear the situation was far from over.

he pulled out his car keys and clicked it with a smile. "better safe than sorry."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"you're basically saying i should die."

"i never said that."

"but you're implying it."

"how?"

"making me sit next to him."

the car hummed softly as satoru drove you all through the quiet streets, one hand lazily resting on the steering wheel, the other tapping rhythmically against the window frame. nobara sat beside him in the front passenger seat, her elbow propped up against the door, head tilted towards the window as she basked in her victory of claiming shotgun without competition from yuji, who laid unconscious in the backseat, slumped against you, his head resting heavily on your shoulder as his soft snores filled the cramped space.

sandwiched between him and megumi, you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him while still trying to find a comfortable position for yourself, but it was difficult, knowing that there was a possibility that sukuna could open his eyes at any moment and lunge for your throat.

you were, after all, the one he hated most.

on your other side, megumi sat stiffly, staring out of his own window with a distant expression. the occasional glances he'd cast towards you and yuji were starting to irritate you: if the way his brows would furrow slightly whenever yuji shifted in his sleep meant anything, then he should have swapped seats with you the second satoru placed yuji on the seat behind nobara.

as your argument with megumi ebbed and flowed, each sharp remark from him met with an equally cutting retort from you, nobara, blissfully detached from the chaos behind her, busied herself with exploring the various compartments in satoru's car. she gleefully unearthed a collection of canned sodas, neatly stored candies, and small bottles of fresh water, shooting the man driving beside her a dirty look at how well organised everything was.

"impressed?" he grinned, a dimple on his right cheek.

"don't get ahead of yourself," she sniffed, annoyed at the way he shrugged, looking pleased with himself.

"stop yelling at me," you had been saying from the back, eyes narrowed at megumi's cold expression, "'cause you're gonna wake him up! and then he's gonna come for me first! what then, huh? you're just gonna sit there and let that happen?"

megumi eyed the canned sodas and shot you a deadpanned look.

"you've got it handled," he said, and at your confused, furrowed brows, he elaborated. "i'll help you out."

he undid his seatbelt and leaned over you, extending an arm in between satoru and nobara to grab a water bottle and retreat, presenting it to you with a bland face.

your gaze hardened.

he felt the need to continue.

"you can drown him with your mermaid powers—"

"i know what you meant!" you snapped, angrily smacking the water bottle out of his hand.

"he's not waking up for hours, y/n," satoru called out loudly, shooting you a glance before keeping his eyes on the road. "stop worrying."

"easy for you to say," you shot back, pinching megumi's thigh as hard as you possibly could. he hissed and peeled your fingers off. "you're not sitting next to him!" your eyes widened suddenly. "wait... what if after you've dropped us all off, he comes back and strangles you from behind?"

satoru laughed at that.

"careful," he chortled, "it might sound like you're worried about me."

"only 'cause if he gets you, he's coming for me next," you scowled, brows furrowed.

the man driving the car met your eyes through the wide mirror. he hadn't put his glasses back on yet, so you could see every bit of amusement dancing around his blue irises.

"don't concern yourself with that. i got it handled," he answered at last, and despite his carefree tone, you still found yourself falling into a pit of worry, head first. "so! you four have no idea who ryomen sukuna is?"

"we know who he is," said nobara, and she maintained a dramatic pause before continuing. "a demon."

satoru shook his head. "that's not what i meant."

the girl in the passenger seat shot him an exasperated glance.

"look him up," satoru added, offering no other thoughts or help except that.

nobara, alert in the front seat, began scrolling through her phone with a determined focus following satoru's suggestion. for a moment, it seemed that nothing had come up, and that satoru was simply messing with the rest of you for fun.

but it was her gasp that made both you and megumi sit up straighter in alert.

"what?" megumi demanded, watching as you leaned forwards to push your front through the gap between satoru and nobara, and then raising your brows in realisation when yuji dropped onto your seat in your absence.

you hurried back and lifted him up again, letting him rest on you with a frightened frown.

"what did you find?" you asked her urgently, your voice low as yuji shifted in his sleep.

"ryomen sukuna..." nobara read out, her brows knitted together as she read about his origins, "was a fearsome demon figure said to have terrorised villages during japan's heian period. known for his monstrous strength and sadistic tendencies, sukuna was infamous for his brutal acts of violence, particularly against women and children. eyewitness accounts described him as a towering figure with crimson eyes, tattoos that writhed across his body, and an insatiable hunger for destruction."

you gulped. "sounds just like him..."

an unsettling silence filled the car, thick and heavy like a fog. the only sound that reached your ears was the low, haunting whistle of the wind as it brushed against the moving vehicle.

"is that it?" said satoru, who sounded disappointed.

"no..." nobara muttered, before heeding the hand satoru had kept on the wheel that gestured at her to continue. "a particularly gruesome aspect of sukuna's legend revolves around his penchant for mutilating women and consuming children. these horrific acts were carried out with the aid of an accomplice: u— u— ura... uraume, a mysterious and cold figure who served as sukuna's cook. stories claim that uraume prepared the remains of sukuna's victims into meals, feeding the demon's appetite for chaos and cementing their role in his legacy of terror."

"wait," you began, brows contorted in fear. it didn't help that every snore yuji let out triggered the memory of sukuna's roar in your mind. "that's the name he used when we first used the ouija board."

"keep going," megumi added icily.

"while some dismiss these accounts as exaggerated folklore, others believe that sukuna was not merely a tale to scare children, but a real and malevolent force that thrived on fear and destruction, leaving a legacy that endures in whispered myths to this day... what the fuck?"

nobara's hands trembled slightly as she lowered the phone, her expression an unsettling mix of irritation and unease. she glanced at satoru, her brows furrowed in a scowl.

"you really had to make me look that up, didn't you?" she snapped, though her voice was tinged with a nervous edge. despite her tough facade, it was clear the vivid descriptions had unsettled her.

you couldn't blame her. only a psycho would he unfazed with what you had just heard.

but satoru only chuckled lightly, one hand still on the wheel.

"oh, come on. you're the ones who decided to play with a ouija board," he said with a lopsided grin. "i'm just saying, if you're going to mess around with stuff like that, at least don't act surprised when you wake up a demon older than the concept of personal hygiene." he gestured vaguely, his tone only half-serious. "rule number one: don't poke the supernatural bear. rule number two: if you do poke it, don't be surprised when it growls."

"this one doesn't growl," you shivered, feeling uneasy. "it roars."

"everyone else gets something less terrifying once, maybe twice," nobara groaned, tucking the strands of her short hair behind her ear. "but the one time we mess around with the board, we end up summoning ryomen sukuna — professional cannibal!"

"eh, not surprising," satoru shrugged, looking way too unbothered with how terrified everyone else seemed in the car. "what? the east asian population in this town is large, specifically japanese people. you don't think that didn't have something to do with the fact that you summoned a demon that originated from japan of all places? even your high school used to specialise in jujutsu."

"why'd they stop?" you asked curiously.

"cultural diversity," satoru answered easily.

"hey," megumi had voiced firmly, his voice cutting across the tense conversation.

satoru's eyes had flitted to his through the mirror, brow raised expectantly.

"you okay, megumi?"

as they continued to converse, you glanced down at yuji and listened to the soft breaths he let out, shuffling uncomfortably. your lips in a straight line, you brushed his hair out of his eyes in disgust. if the fear of sukuna being behind those closed lids hadn't been looming over you, you would not have put up such a fuss: yuji was a peaceful sleeper.

"i don't want you to tell my mom about this," said megumi, his brows knitted together in annoyed certainty.

satoru hummed, looking all too pleased with himself. "you asking me for a favour?" he responded, sounding both smug and curious at the same time.

there was a slight pause, the sounds of yuji's quiet snores and the movement of vehicles outside of the one you had been sitting in filled the space.

"yes," said megumi, and when you turned to glance at him, you found that he looked quite serious (more so than usual).

satoru's smile stretched wider, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he leaned back in his seat.

"a special request from my precious student?" he teased, his voice dripping with playful mockery. at megumi's scowl, satoru's grin only grew, his usual confidence turning into something almost mischievous, as if he'd just caught megumi in a rare, vulnerable moment, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested a certain pride in knowing that megumi had some form of trust in him — albeit reluctantly. "consider it done! my lips are sealed. you're gonna have to come up with a story for that ankle though."

nobara sat up as satoru had begun entering her neighbourhood.

"ugh, my mom too," she said, sounding desperate. "she probably wouldn't believe you anyway, but she'd find a way to try and get 'compensation' for my non-existent 'trauma' or something... you know how she is..."

you did know how nobara's mom was: a nice woman, who cared deeply about her daughters, but had a hunger for money that even toji could not compete with.

and satoru knew that like no one else...

"yeah, you've got nothing to worry about, i'm not going anywhere near that woman," he grumbled, before shooting the girl sitting next to him with a glance that was meant to be apologetic, but looked like anything but. "no offence, nobara."

"none taken," she sighed, for all of you knew how her mother would shamelessly flirt with the white-haired male for his money. it was both amusing and disgusting to watch (satoru found it horrifying, even if he did seem flattered the first time around).

then, his eyes flicked to you in the rearview mirror, catching your gaze with a certain glint of amusement. he studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before his lips curled into a smirk and he shifted in his seat, clearly enjoying the unease he was about to stir like the man-child he was.

"you're not gonna ask me to keep it from m/n?"

you stared at him, deadpanned. "she literally would not care."

"fair point," he nodded. "what about your dad?"

"the signal in antarctica is bad," you responded easily. "and also, don't stress that man out. he already has to deal with angry polar bears."

there was a challenge in satoru's gaze, as if he found amusement in seeing how you'd react, how you'd handle the weight of being almost blackmailed by him.

"didn't know you were such a snitch," you commented sourly. "well... snitches get stitches."

"you're gonna need stitches with that mark on your forehead," said satoru, and your hand had instinctively reached up to rub at your head where sukuna had hit you.

"it's fine 'cause megumi's gonna snitch me up."

"no i won't."

"what the hell, porcupine?"

"let me get this straight," satoru interrupted, preventing another round of arguments between you and the grumpy boy sitting next to you, "you kids have been dealing with ryomen sukuna for an entire year and didn't think to tell anyone?"

"how was that conversation meant to go?" said nobara, before her voice raised an octave as she continued. "'hey, mrs itadori! we need help 'cause your son gets possessed by an ancient demon every month on the twenty-ninth and has the literal potential to kill anything in its vicinity!' i mean, who would believe us?"

satoru gawked. "me!"

"yeah..." she said, looking exhausted, "that's not a good thing..."

satoru continued as though he hadn't heard her. "you guys messed around with a ouija board, but i'm the reckless one."

"i have a headache," you groaned, rubbing your temple with a pained expression.

megumi glanced down at his injured ankle, wincing slightly as he flexed it before settling into a frown. his gaze shifted towards you, a scowl forming on his face as though silently reminding you that he had the worse end of this ordeal.

he shifted uncomfortably, clearly still irked about your late arrival and the chaos it had unleashed, not that he planned on voicing that at all.

"that's karma for all those people you lied to about evil entities," said megumi, watching as you sneered at him.

"that was different though!" you declared heatedly. it wasn't like those people from kindergarten would even remember that anyway.

satoru looked back at the both of you as he eased the car into a smooth stop outside nobara's house, a compact, modern two-story home with clean, angular lines and a white-and-grey facade. a narrow path of neatly arranged stone tiles led from the sidewalk to a red-painted front door, framed by simple black lanterns. potted plants flanked the entrance, adding a small touch of warmth to the otherwise minimalistic exterior, while a lone bicycle leaned against the side of the porch. it was nobara's, you silently noticed.

"why was that different?" satoru asked curiously.

you had pulled megumi's ear for his response:

"sukuna hates her."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

megumi found himself seated before his mother in the living room, her figure covering the television behind her, arms folded over her chest.

"you injured your ankle," she began, kind eyes narrowed in suspicion, "by being slammed into during football?"

megumi nodded.

you weren't around, so it would be easier to keep up the act without worrying about pinching your side and silencing you when your lies went too far.

she did not look convinced; megumi remained unsurprised at that. she had always been harder to fool than his father, and called it a sixth sense that, according to her, all mothers had.

"megumi," she sighed, brows contorted in concern. it made him feel bad for lying, but also reminded himself of the fact that she'd be overwhelmed in fit of worry if she ever knew the true reason his ankle had ended up swollen. "this is the, what, third time this has happened now? was it by... what's his name...? todo? was it him?"

it obviously wasn't, but megumi believed that to be a good excuse to go with.

he nodded again; she sighed again.

"the first and second time, i can understand, accidents happen," she said, replacing the bag of peas that she'd kept on megumi's ankle (perched on the coffee table) with another frozen set. the first had become warm now. "but a third time? i'm starting to think he has it out for you."

that wouldn't be against the truth at all, megumi mentally decided to himself with furrowed brows.

he watched as she handled the bag of warm peas with a pout pulling at her lips. it had been times like these that he wished she wasn't so concerned all the time, for it would make lying a whole lot easier.

"can i watch tv now?" he asked, sounding a little more dismissive than he initially intended.

she raised her brows at him.

"you're making a face, megumi," she responded, easily avoiding the question.

megumi had made a move to frown, but found that he had already been doing it.

he silently cursed himself.

"i'm not," he mumbled, averting his gaze and trying to get a good glance at the ice hockey game playing behind her. she only moved her head where his eyes went, pressing.

"you are," she said, smiling. "if y/n was here, she'd agree. ah, where is she anyway? i feel like it's been years since i've seen you two in the same room."

"friday —"

"aside from friday dinners," she cut across him with a raised brow.

without meaning to, he found his face mindlessly deepening his default scowl. he immediately softened his expression, but it had been too late, she'd already spotted it.

"there it is!" she pointed at him, accusatory. "what's got my son in a mood?"

megumi tried his hardest to maintain a neutral expression, but it proved to be more difficult than he expected.

her eyes never did not leave his face as she crossed the short distance between them, watching as he tensed immediately, the scowl slipping away into something more guarded, more composed, as though retreating behind an invisible wall of indifference would make her retreat too.

but she didn't.

instead, she crouched beside him, her hand resting gently on his knee, warm even through the fabric of his jeans. her touch was soft but unrelenting, and the concern in her gaze felt heavier now.

"i'm always like this," he said quietly, she had to lean closer to hear him.

"you've lived under my roof for sixteen years," she responded, brushing his hair out of his eyes. he shook her hand off with an exasperated exhale. "i think i'd know when you're acting different... except for that time that you stole a rabbit even though you know i'm allergic —"

"— mom —" he grumbled.

"— and in my defence, i trusted my son," she continued as though she hadn't heard him, her smile still present. "why are you grumpy?"

"i'm not —"

"do you want me to call your dad?"

he scowled, and this time, he did not try to hide it, for the threat was enough to get him talking. it wasn't the fear of toji being called on him, it was the fact that he did not want to have a heart-to-heart with that man out of anyone.

he'd even prefer satoru to him when it came down to therapy sessions.

his mom pursed her lips at him, her expression grave. "did y/n frame you for disturbing mrs daphne's tea party again?"

"no," said megumi, cringing at the memory. he had still yet to get you back for that — the old ladies at the tea party had slandered his name for things he hadn't even thought of doing. "it's not that."

"but it's something to do with her, isn't it?" she pressed with a gentle smile. and at the way he peered back at her, she went on to explain herself. "you made that cute angry face when i asked where she's been."

"how can someone be cute and angry?"

"you'll know when you have kids of your own —"

"mom."

"i'm only joking, megumi," she said, as she took her hand off his knee and placed it beneath her chin, waiting for him to answer her.

he looked away, jaw clenched as he stared at the far corner of the room, anywhere but at her face, hoping she wouldn't wait for his answer, but he knew her... he knew that she would do exactly that.

megumi let out a slow, frustrated breath, the weight of her patient, unwavering gaze pressing down on him like a vice. he clenched his fists for a moment, the tension winding tight in his shoulders before he felt it unravel in resignation. there was no escaping her persistence — not when she had already pieced together more than he was willing to admit. she would wait him out, as always, and the battle of wills would inevitably end with him surrendering, he could tell.

reluctantly, he eased the tight set of his jaw and prepared to give in, knowing there was no point in dragging it out any longer:

"we're both really busy," he admitted, abashed. he was also simultaneously trying to find a way to explain his problem without revealing too much about how your absence had indirectly caused such trouble with sukuna. "i see yuji and nobara in classes. or in between classes. but not — stop staring at me — not y/n."

she hummed. "she lives right across from us," she reminded him thoughtfully. "why don't you go over there now?"

"don't want to right now," he shrugged, and even though, to an outsider, it would sound like he didn't want to see you out of spite, he knew that his mom knew what he meant: you'd just seen each other, both of you had still got mountains of homework to complete. "i'd get distracted. we still have a lot of school work to complete. she has to rehearse her lines for her next play."

he did not mention how you were spending more time with an outsider nowadays than with him. after all, that wasn't what bothered him that much.

it was more about the fact that said person was supposedly interested in his sister, but was spotted with you every other day.

or, that was what megumi had kept replaying like a mantra in his head. he wasn't too sure whether he had successfully convinced himself yet.

"a little time apart doesn't mean anything, megumi," his mom laughed, her voice soothing as he peered back at her expectantly. perhaps her advice was necessary. perhaps he ought to listen. "that time she showed me your timetables at the beginning of the school year, i wasn't worried in the slightest."

megumi remained silent as she went on, for he was starting to really pay attention to her.

"you guys have — what was it? — english together?"

"math," he corrected, trying not to sound bitter, but it must have seeped into his voice because she chuckled as she went on.

"math," she nodded, smiling again. "only math, right? ... you two have remained friends, best friends — don't make that face, you silly boy, you know it's true — you two have been best friends since you were in kindergarten! not many people can say the same, you know? your friendship won't end just because you spend less time in class together."

he knew that, he had concluded to himself. he knew that that wasn't his concern.

how could he figure out what he was so annoyed about if he was unable to fully communicate the whole truth with sukuna, your lateness, etc?

he'd have to tiptoe around the topic.

"what's on your mind?" she asked, and he cursed himself for making his discomfort so obvious.

"you're saying everything would still be the same," he started slowly, unsure whether he'd regret where he was going with this if he completed his sentence, "even if we're friends with other people."

his mother's gaze softened, but her expression remained unreadable, the kind of calm that always left him unsure whether he'd stepped too far or not far enough.

she studied him quietly, her eyes searching his face as though piecing together a puzzle only she could see. the silence stretched just long enough to make him shift uncomfortably, his fingers tapping restlessly against the arm of the couch.

before finally...

she nodded, a slow, thoughtful motion, her lips pressing together in a way that felt both understanding and reserved.

"exactly," she said, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "she makes friends with everyone. she's friends with the... dark-haired child... the one with the side bangs —"

"the emo kid," said megumi, blunt. "malakai."

"megumi," she said firmly, her tone scolding but not unkind. "but yes, him. and don't you go around calling him that."

she smiled at him then, her eyes crinkling warmly at the corners as she leaned back into the couch. her relaxed posture made him feel slightly less on edge, though a flicker of grumpiness still lingered within him, but it was tame, nothing like it had been earlier back at yuji's.

megumi noticed the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed, the way her face always seemed to soften when she looked at him. the familiar scent of her jasmine tea filled the space between them, calming in a way that made him feel understood even when words failed.

"smile, megumi," she teased, her voice light and coaxing, but he remained stubbornly impassive, his lips refusing to budge.

she sighed playfully, shaking her head before leaning forwards again, her fingers curling into a mischievous grin.

with another soft chuckle, she placed her pointer fingers on each corner of his mouth, gently tugging his cheeks upwards.

"there you go," she murmured, her grin matching the exaggerated one she had crafted on his face. "see? it's not so bad, you should do it more often!"

he let out a resigned sigh, his eyes half-lidded, but beneath his feigned annoyance, a trace of warmth began to settle in his chest.

her eyes had grown distant, gazing at something behind him. it was when she'd removed her fingers from his face, did he know what — or rather, who — she'd been staring at.

"toji, why are you just standing there?" she asked, her tone playful.

megumi didn't need to turn his head to know his father was simply lingering. when it came to his mother, there was a rare stillness in his posture — a quiet reverence — as if he were gazing at a masterpiece, a painting too precious to touch.

"he doesn't know how to smile because of you," she jokingly accused him, standing up, "so you need to smile too!"

toji averted his gaze, silently unwilling.

she shook her head at him, raising her arms to present her pointer fingers.

"i'll make you smile," she warned him.

"run, dad," megumi grumpily muttered from where he was seated on the couch.

the older man turned away with furrowed brows.

"don't gotta tell me twice," megumi heard him grumble, followed by his mother's rhythmic laughter.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

there were many things mrs fushiguro had seen in the short time she'd been married to toji for.

she'd seen him yell (never at her), she'd seen him fight (never with her), and she'd seen him curse (never to her).

but she had never seen him in such a fit of rage, that he could only fold his muscly arms over his chest and resort to a quiet stillness, choosing tense tranquility over violence.

although, the way his jaw clenched had said otherwise.

she sat on the arm of the long couch as he stared down the lineup that started with a scowling suguru, a frowning satoru, a glaring megumi, and a blissfully unaware you.

honestly, she thought this was a bit much. you and megumi were barely even seven. so what if you had blindly followed the older two in believing that toji was cheating on her? you were kids. being influenced by older people was natural.

apologies were necessary, she understood that much, but lining each of you up with apology letters like you were part of some military?

that was a lot.

toji started off with the young man who had his hair in a dishevelled man-bun. dishevelled, for toji had shaken both him and his best friend till she had stepped in to stop him.

"go," her husband demanded.

suguru was halfway between rolling his eyes before he caught the sharp glare the buff man before him sent.

"i'm sorry for accusing you of cheating on your wife," he said, looking down at his lined sheet of paper with exhaustion. he then looked up and began improving. "and i also apologise on behalf of the people whose apology letters won't be any good —"

"dude," satoru interrupted, looking offended. the sight only made her smile, especially when her eyes moved down the line and you and megumi had been sporting the exact same expression, the three of you collectively staring at suguru in disgust. "the hell are you implying?"

"you apology letter is literally blank, satoru —"

"— i like to improv!"

"shut up!" toji snapped, taking everyone by surprise. "both o' you." he glanced at suguru with narrowed eyes. "whatever, you're done, monkey."

megumi's mom found herself watching with interest as suguru gritted his teeth. she still did not understand what the hatred for monkeys was about.

"you —" toji continued, glaring at satoru, who was scratching the back of his neck, looking confused. "you're next."

this would be interesting...

she watched as satoru cleared his throat with theatrical flair, holding up his paper as if preparing for a grand speech. he scanned the page, squinting at god-knows-what, seeing as she (and everyone else in the room) had been well aware that the paper was blank, before glancing at toji, whose glare grew sharper by the second.

and under the crushing weight of that look, satoru's bravado faltered. his fingers crumpled the paper into a ball with a slow, deliberate motion.

tossing it aside, he straightened up, forcing a grin as he placed one hand over his heart.

"toji fushiguro," he began with exaggerated sincerity, "i deeply regret the events of today, and i humbly offer my —"

"you little shit —" toji growled, his eyes narrowing further.

satoru's grin stiffened. "right. sorry. freestyling it is."

if his glasses had been taken off indoors, she would have been able to read his real thoughts through his eyes. instead, she was made to sit back and guess, watching the events play out before her like a sitcom.

it was unpredictable.

especially when it came to her husband and the godfather of their son.

"i'm... sorry."

toji was not happy with that:

"for?" he pressed, head tilted expectantly.

satoru shot him a disgusted look:

"the hell you mean 'for'? i apologised —"

toji turned to look back at his wife with a scary level of calmness.

"i'm holding myself back —" he told her through gritted teeth.

"okay, toji —" she began, trying to be the peacemaker but failing miserably.

satoru let out a loud groan, running a hand through his hair tiredly.

"fine," he said, exasperated. "i'm sorry... for accusing you of cheating on this gorgeous, beautiful, stunning, breathtaking, ethereal —"

toji instinctively stepped forward. "you tryin' to take my wife?"

"no," satoru scowled, "i'm married —"

"he's not," suguru coughed.

satoru recoiled dramatically. "whose side are you even on?"

toji clenched his jaw, his patience wearing thin as satoru's antics grated on his nerves. his eyes had darkened with a sharp, warning glare, fists curling at his sides as if holding himself back from throwing a punch.

his wife watched as the tension radiated from him like heat, his broad frame stiffening as he muttered under his breath about what he'd do if satoru kept running his mouth.

"anyway, i'm sorry for accusing you of cheating on her... not that you could find anyone better," satoru continued, his left dimple becoming more prominent the longer he grinned. "she's gorgeous. she's amazing. you hit the jackpot with her —"

"erm... thank you, satoru?" she smiled, visibly and audibly confused. "i... don't know if i should take that as a compliment, or..?"

"it's a compliment!" satoru assured her, his grin toothy and bright. "from the first most handsome person in the world to the second prettiest in the world."

"what the—" toji began, looking disgusted. he grunted, looking down at his own son with a glare. "fine. megumi —"

megumi looked up at his dad with a scowl. his mom could only bite back a laugh at his expression, a carbon copy of the man she married.

"— i didn't do anything wrong," he snapped.

stubborn like him, too.

toji took a deep breath in, and everyone in the room glanced at megumi, expectant.

but megumi had seemed firm on his stance, stagnant, no chance of moving. you were staring at him like he'd grown two heads.

she should have seen this coming, to be fair. unlike everybody else, megumi had not been holding an apology letter to begin with.

"if you don't start apologising, now, boy," toji threatened, his fists clenched.

perhaps now was a good time to step in:

"toji, he's just a —"

"smart brat is what he is," he interrupted grumpily, glaring down at his son. "apologise."

megumi let out a long, exaggerated sigh, the weight of frustration pressing his small shoulders down as if the air itself had turned heavy. his dark eyes slid shut briefly, and when he opened them again, they were filled with a mix of irritation and reluctant obedience, a reflection of his father's unrelenting will.

the sigh wasn't just a breath, his mom noticed with an apologetic glance — it was the embodiment of every ounce of exasperation he felt, a drawn-out gesture that spoke louder than words, as though he were releasing the burden of dealing with his family's antics all at once.

"fine," he grumbled, taking her by surprise. it usually took a bit more probing before megumi was made to bend at anyone's will. "i'm sorry for following them around even though i didn't do anything wrong."

"YOU —"

"my turn!" you beamed excitedly.

"oh here we go," satoru mumbled under his breath, being shot a warning glance by the woman shifting on the arm of the couch, her brows furrowed.

toji regarded a glaring megumi with one irate look — one that read 'this isn't finished' — before glancing down at you, the glittery strap of one of your sandals left undone like the messy child you were.

where toji found it to be a headache, his wife found it cute. she'd always wanted a girl at some point in her life.

"okay, so!" you began, clearing your throat dramatically. your little fingers had clenched your apology letter hard enough to crease every part you touched.

you took a deep breath in, before noticing all the eyes that had been placed on you, and then began looking around anxiously, as though everyone was staring at something behind you instead.

"what's the delay?" toji grunted, impatient.

"everyone's keeping on — everyone's keeping on looking at me!" you said, fidgeting where you stood.

"it's 'keeps on'," megumi corrected you icily.

"you better shut your mouth," toji started on him, only pausing when his wife scolded him for toeing the line that determined what was too far and what was not.

"it's — it's fine!" you smiled, your baby cheeks looking soft enough to squish. she had to refrain from doing so. you were in the middle of your apology, after all. "i'm gonna just close my eyes!"

and so you did.

you closed your eyes, your hands still clutching the sheet you were meant to be reading from, before you realised your mistake.

"'m sorry for... er..." you hesitated, your brows furrowed with how tight you had closed your lids. "wait! where did my apolology letter go?"

"'apology'," megumi had corrected yet again.

satoru snorted. "open your eyes, genius — ow!"

suguru had kicked his foot.

"y/n, honey, open your eyes," mrs fushiguro told you politely.

"that's what i just sai— ow, suguru, cut it out!"

with a deep breath, you opened your eyes and glanced down.

realisation had dawned as you spotted the crumpled apology letter clenched tightly in your small hands. a sheepish laugh escaped your lips, soft and warm, as if even you couldn't believe your own antics.

toji groaned in growing impatience, rubbing his temple with an exaggerated sigh that only made the moment funnier to his wife, who had hid her smile behind her hand, trying to maintain decorum for your sake.

determined, you squared your shoulders and lifted your chin.

"i know what to do!" you declared brightly, clutching the letter with newfound resolve. "i'm just — i'm just gonna turn around 'cause no one will see me!"

without waiting for anyone's input, you spun on your heels to face the television, ready to deliver your heartfelt apology with dramatic flair and a focus all your own.

only to be submerged by a fit of giggles, turning around with a wide grin.

"what now?" toji snapped angrily.

"turning around — turning around is so funny!" you laughed, before choking on your own laughter at the grave expression on the older man's face. "okay, okay! calm down... angry man!"

you finally started on your apology.

only for it to go absolutely no where...

in other words (she hated to admit it) but the same reaction satoru had been scolded for earlier was the same one that was found to be right.

you were talking just for the sake of talking, the apology going no where...

"i'm sorry," you started, eyes drifting down your lined paper, "that i — that i listened to the two old mans next to — next to megumi fushigo right now. my mommy says to listen to older people! so — so i listened to older people! but, toji the angry man says that — that he will crush satoru and suguru like a ladybug! and even though my mommy says i like ladybugs, i don't want to keeping on being shouted to! so now i have to say sorry because i have to be safe from toji the angry man —"

"right, that's enough," toji growled, waving a hand at you.

it seemed that just like his wife, he did not seem to know what to make of this apology.

all he knew was that you talked way too much.

"her mouth moves before her brain does," he said, turning to his wife who sent him a sharp look, one that easily translated to 'be nice!'.

"my — my mommy says —"

suguru leaned closer to his best friend. "either she's a serial liar, or her mom's been lobotomised."

"can i leave now?" asked megumi, looking past his dad and at his mom for her approval.

but before she could respond, toji leaned forwards with a casual grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, cutting off her words before they could form, but there was a sharpness in his movement, like a blade waiting to strike.

"no," he said, his darting from you to satoru and back again. "no, i'm not satisfied yet. this bastard's still grinning —"

you turned to megumi with a frown. "what's a bastard?"

his mom stood up almost immediately, but megumi had already begun his explanation:

"when a man and his mistress —"

"megumi!" she interrupted, alert.

the two of you looked up at her, one of you wide-eyed, the other with narrowed ones. she hurriedly ushered her son away from you, glancing at toji, suguru, and satoru all the while.

"well this has been nice," she mumbled, trying to smile despite her slight irritation towards this entire ordeal, "and i appreciate the apologies, but toji, let's wrap this up now.

toji's eyes lit up with a glimmer of mischief, his grin spreading slowly as though a particularly devious idea had just taken root in his mind. his gaze flickered between satoru and you, and the sharp arch of his brow hinted at a plan already forming, a dangerous sort of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back slightly, the picture of a man who had just found the perfect way to make things even more chaotic — and far more entertaining — for his own amusement.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the door had clicked shut behind him with an ominous finality, and satoru stared at it in horrified disbelief, hands pressed flat against the wooden surface as if sheer willpower could force it open again.

his shoulders sagged with defeat as your voice filled the small, stifling space, a rapid-fire stream of chatter that had no clear beginning or end. you were halfway through a story about some incident involving your dad, a rogue basketball, and uncle ogi's furious tirade, and satoru groaned quietly.

his fingers twitched at his temples as if rubbing them would make it stop. he glanced at you, half-distraught, half-bewildered, mouthing a silent help me to the empty room, realising there would be no escape.

"— and my mommy says we're just keeping on staying here!" you added at last.

but you weren't done; you tugged at the fabric of his jeans.

"wanna play i spy with my little eye?"

he banged on the door angrily.

"get me out of here!" he begged desperately, and when you had gone on a long tangent about why every single grey-haired person on the planet was a long lost relative of satoru's, satoru found himself nearly detaching the door knob.

"i will break this door down!" he threatened loudly.

but the only sounds that could be heard behind it were the calm chatter between the fushiguros, and the little fushiguro who had settled on sitting against the other side of the door to correct your english where necessary.

even suguru had left him behind (which he should have seen coming, ever since the kfc incident).

satoru would never accuse toji of cheating on his wife ever again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

notes: i lowkey hate the way this chapter turned out lmao, so it'll probably undergo some editing, idk. i wrote it in a rush, specifically for my two talented artists. i hope you guys enjoyed it anyway! <3 i meshed a little plot AND filler so you get the best of both worlds! :)

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

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@1l-ynn @shaigimo @shuupiu @nappingnai @xbarrjallenx @reinaswrld @anintrovertedechoe @momoewn @polarbvnny @lailuv21 @cherriee-ee @hfuensiekabhsufnd @k0z3me @reocidal @jelly-fsh @anonymity-222 @blubearxy @jamypam @thelost-child @anotherwriternamedclara @ist0leurc0ffee @spookypeacesandwich @jvpit3rr @2ukika @zzn-li @biancaackerman

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

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figthoughts · 5 hours ago

Note

How do you think SB and Dean would react to reader safewording? I have some sort of idea for Dean, but with SB? Very mixed tbh

omg i have many thoughts !! allow me to ramble thank u ! (soldier boy’s part is a little ehhhh, just read with caution if ur sensitive to dubcon type scenarios!) 18+ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

— dean winchester ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

dean loves sex. he’s made that abundantly clear throughout your relationship. anytime he can get his hands on you, he will. and so naturally, you’ve spent time learning each other’s bodies, kinks, likes ‘n dislikes and everything in between. you’re entirely comfortable together.

so one day when you suddenly blurt out your safe word, dean pauses, his eyes flickering up to meet yours — to check in with you.

“baby, you okay? you wanna stop?” his words are gentle and full of love, concern splashed across his features.

his face softens while he nods along to your quiet explanation, pulling out/away from whatever he’d been doing to you. he settles down beside you, watching you as if you’re about to shatter into a million pieces.

“s’okay, sweetheart. we can stop. you don’t need an excuse. if you’re not feeling up to it, it’s not a big deal. we can just cuddle if you want,” he shrugs with a reassuring expression on his face, “you look like you need a hug, yeah? c’mere.”

dean opens his arms for you, letting you crawl against his chest. he nuzzles his chin into the top of your head, holding you snug against him, his hand rubbing down your back in a soothing motion.

“thank you for letting me know, baby,” he murmurs against your hair, leaving a soft kiss. he’s just happy you feel safe enough to ask him to stop whenever you need.

— soldier boy [ben] ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

i can’t decide between two ideas, so i’m giving you both !!

ben—your ben—the world’s strongest man who, simultaneously, is the world’s softest man the second he’s got his sweet little lady between his sheets.

there’s no denying he fucks like a pornstar on speed. it’s sometimes frightening how long he can keep at it — fucking you until you’re spent and boneless, blissed out and overstimulated from your umpteenth orgasm. he loves when you’re unable to form words, just soft incoherent babbles that force a grin to spread across his face as he plows into you with a superhuman force.

he loves going over the top to please you. and so it’s no surprise when you mumble out your safe word through warm salty tears, tired and unable to take any more of what he’s giving you. he slows down, meeting your gaze with his own. “what’s the matter? had enough, my pretty lady?”

ben knows sex with him can be a lot, and considering you’re just a sweet little doll, he knows it’s up to you to call it when you’ve had enough — cause if it were up to ben, you’d never leave his damn bed.

your mumbled pleas earn a nod in return from ben, “alright, babygirl. s’not a problem. here—” he pulls himself away from you, “i’ll run you a bath, yeah?”

you watch him get up and start heading to the bathroom, but not before he turns around, throwing you a cheeky wink, “i think that might’ve been a new record for ya, doll.”

alternatively… ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

ben’s rough. he’s rough around the edges. you know it. he knows it. everyone he’s ever met knows it. but he doesn’t just look rough or talk rough — he fucks rough.

you’re no stranger to the supe and how he bends you in half, like he’s unafraid of breaking you with his strength and brute force. for the most part, you take it like a good little thing, letting him break you down into nothing, but a whimpering little mess below him. and he loves it, ruining women while he doesn’t even break a sweat.

so when he mentions going a little further—adding a few new things to your nightly affairs—you agree, but only with the clear understanding that you get a safe word.

and ben agrees. i mean, anything to get his babydoll back into his bed, right?

so when he’s got you in half, your limbs flailing around in the air, pleading for him to stop, he simply doesn’t. he knows you know your safe word, and he hasn’t heard it leave your sweet little mouth yet. so he continues on, tiring out your sore body beyond belief — he’s really getting his kicks from seeing you all fucked out and begging like your life depends on it.

“look at you, damn slut. you like this, don’t you?” he grunts out, watching you sob and try to free yourself from his restraints. your eyes are filled to the brim with tears, your emotions clear on your face. he loves that you’re taking it for him — being a good ol’ little thing for him.

so it’s much to his surprise when you sob out your safe word. he’s a little bewildered to say the least. his brows pinch together, but he doesn’t slow down, not one bit.

his thrusts get harder, his eyes locked on your pleading little face. “just give me a damn minute. i’m close,” he mutters, his breath a little laboured, as if seeing you like this is the driving factor pushing him to the edge.

it doesn’t take long for him to finish, and when he does, he’s panting with the stupidest grin on his face. he slumps down on top of you, invading your space, “jesus, that was fuckin’ something, hey? you liked that, my sweet little thing?”

all you can do is sniffle and try to catch your breath while his weight crushes you. he presses a kiss to your cheek and he hears your breath hitch. and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants — in the palm of his fucking hand.

A/N: this was soooo fun to type up !!! i love scenario requests sm (feel free to send me more) !!!!!! also first time writing something a lil darker w the dubcon part !!! what do we thinkkkkk? <3

feedback and reblogs are appreciated! thank uuu!

✩ taglist cause why not: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @jackleslvr @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @floralscented @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @sl33pylilbunny @k-slla @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate

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solar4seekstron · 1 day ago

Text

Traitor! Part One

TF1!Starscream x Cybertronian!GN!Reader One-shot

He’s so twink coded in this gif-

Content: 18+, Smut

TW/Tags: Childhood friends, not first love shut up, smut, Starscream is an aft but a good husband and dad, hell yeah another sparkling cause they’re fun to write, angst, mentioned death, don’t worry more sparkling scenes will be added in the next chapter, awww starscreams and readers sparkling is so handsome, Sentinel being an aft as usual.

Notes: Reader is a jet so reader is a little slimmer. To make this story work a Bond with Conjunx don’t exist so the. Two can’t feel each other through the bond.

It was like any other day in the high guard. You were known as one of the highest leaders of the seekers Conjunx. While he was leading part of the High Guard. You were the one training the new recruits.

You and Starscream have known each other since you both were sparkling.

Though it was beyond being a first love thing. When you were accepted to join the high guard, and chosen to be the personal bodyguard of Prima.

On the first day since joining, you were so nervous. What was until you saw him? When entering the training room.

You never expected to see a certain red bot.

Training the new recruits. Well mostly embarrassing them. You stayed by the sidelines and watched. Hours went by, and the training session ended. And everyone started to head out.

You are following behind. Figuring it wasn’t worth trying to talk to your old neighbor.

But you soon felt your entire frame freeze when his face became loud.

“Not you, little jet. Don’t think I didn’t notice you.” He stood in the middle of the training room. Arms crossed as he stared at you with narrowed optics.

You slowly turned around to look at him. Everyone else has left. He made his way to you. You standing straight waiting for orders.

Being a Superior, you can tell he takes pride in that just by looking at him.

He looked you up and down. Then walked in a circle slowly as his arms moved to be down his sides. You just stood there, feeling yourself slowly get nervous. When he was finally in front of you again.

His dermas eventually have a smirk once he soon speaks.

”Well, I never thought I’d see my old neighbor after all these years. You sure grown into your….own.”

You noticed he checked out your frame once more. Which was a little more slimmer than his. You finally responded. ”Yeah, you’ve..changed as well.”

He let out a deep chuckle. He was a step closer with his usual smirk that he even had on his dermas as a sparkling.

He then places his cervos on his hips. Speaking once more. “Why don’t you and I meet up for lunch? Make up for lost time.” He leaned down a little. His dermas close to your audio sensors as he whispers.

“Make up for lost time.”

You just gave a small nod. His smirk grew wider. That was until Soundwave walked in. Starscream smirk away when told Zeta and Alpha Trio needed him.

He just walked past you as you stood there. For just a few minutes in the silent room.

A few months went by, and things did not get any easier because of the war. You and Starscream started to get more and more closer together.

You both getting known as very close friends throughout the tower.

The primes do not care much thanks to the war. Things remaind the same after a while, at least until he started courting you. In secret of course. He has an image to uphold.

You and Starscream's bond was something you never felt before.

The day that was your last day of the courtship, he was so sweet and loving. Careful as he held you against his chest. His kisses are sweet and sensual. The most loved you ever felt in your whole life.

You becoming a real pair since,

It continued like that for the next few years. And things are still as great as they are now.

————————————————————————————

You laid on your back against your shared berth with your Conjunx.

Soft sighs mixed with moans escaping past your dermas. Your helm leaned back, optics shut tight, a powerful need in your lower abdomen as your legs shake on the sides of Starscreams waist.

Your legs squeezing the best they can around Starscream as your arms are around his neck. Keeping him as close to you as possible.

His cervos gripped tightly on the berth sheets, his knees pressed against the berth. His hips slow with a sharp thrust. This spike nicely sqeezed by your valve begging for him to be filled with his seeds.

His forhelm against our shoulder. His grunts deep and quiet. Optics shut as well and he seems to be concentrating.

His frame pressed harshly against your own.

The room filled with both your soft grunts and moans. The sound of metal against metal slapped together being heard along with it. Your cervos stretching at his upper back. Begging for him. To go faster.

When you placed one of your cervos onto the back of his helm, you finally spoke.

”Please, pleaser faster Starscream!” You begged. His cervos move to hold your waist. Lifting his frame a bit higher so he’s sitting up. His hips soon moving at a faster paste. The metal clanking getting louder and louder.

You feel yourself moving back and forth against the berth.

Your cervos now holding the sheets of the berth, your moans growing louder and louder. He stared down at you. His optics are almost closed as he gets closer to his climax. Until.

With a final moan, you feel the warmth of his seed in your valve. Primus, there was a lot.

You continue to lean back as you try to gather yourself together.

Your legs shivering a little still while Starscream remained still. His hips thrust back and forth slowly while continuing to release more cum.

His load going on for another moment. Eventually, he was able to finish. He looked back down at you with a smirk. You smiling back as you stared up at him. He soon leans down.

Gently keeping himself above you as he stared at you with loving optics. His forhelm pressed against yours.

He finally speaking after having done a few rounds with you.

”It is done.” He finished with a kiss. You both connecting your dermas together with passion and love. Small smiles on both of your dermas while you both enjoyed this loving moment.

—————————————————————————————-

You are with sparkling. Starscream obviously. And he was excited.

You kept your pregnancy secret for a while before the sparkling inside you started to grow. The day before you can send a letter of absence knowing you’ll need the next months off to take care of your sparkling.

The news of the leaders of the Quintissons meeting was told by Sentinel to the Primes. The Primes announcing the mission for later that day. Sadly for you.

The mission is too risky and Starscream made that very clear when you and starscream spoke about it once at home.

”My word is final. You and our sparkling come first, do you hear me.”

You both stared at each other. Anger in our optics as you both stood in the living room.

Starscream was fuming. The both of you have been arguing for an hour once upon returning home. His cervo clenched while you remained unbothered.

Your arms crossed.

He then spoke once more after another moment. “You know what, I’m not going to argue with you while dealing with your mood swings right now!”

”Oh don’t you put this on my hormones! Our sparkling in me is fine. We will be fine. You saw me in action!” You bite back.

”This is different! These guys are more dangerous and this isn’t like every other training session back at the tower.” He stepped closer to you. You just stared up at him. He spoke once more in a softer tone.

His cervos move to gently hold your waist. His expression is softer as well.

”Just…for this mission. Stay home. I’ll make it up to you and our sparkling in the future. I promise…” He pressed his forehelm against yours. Small tears fall down your optics before looking down.

You just turned your helm away then and went to sit at the table. You responded with your voice quiet but loud enough for him to hear. “Just go. I’ll be here when you return…” Starscream just stared at you.

He wanted to say more. But held back, almost about to say the wrong thing.

Instead storming to the front door and slamming it shut behind him once out of the apartment. You put your helm in your cervos as you cried.

One of your cervos then moves to be placed over your stomach.

Feeling your sparkling move a little in there. Only time can tell now when he and the others will return upon their victory…

————————————————————————-

You felt yourself at peace. Taking a nice afternoon nap. Having a sparkling surely drains you when they’re not making you crave for energon. Your spark steady as your lower back feels comfortable.

Your sparkling peaceful inside you, your cervos ontop of your stomach during your slumber. That is until there was a knock at the door. Waking you up.

You tried to hold back from being fussy, you enjoy a good recharge.

As fast as you can, you make your way over to the front door. Peaking through the door hole. You were surprised to see sentinel on the other side. With a smile smile on his dermas.

Cautiously you opened the door, greeting Sentinel who had his cervos behind his back.

“Sentinel? I never expected you to be at my door. What can I do you for?” You greeted him with a smile. His smirk grew a little wider as he soon spoke.

“Well, it’s certainly a day of changes…I suppose.” You looked at him confused. He then sighed as he continued.

“I believe you’ll need to sit down for this.”

You then noticed a tall purple femme next to him. She just glanced down at you with a frown on her dermas.

You looked back at Sentinel before stepping back.

Walking to your table. Sitting down Sentinel and the purple femme follow from behind. The femme closing the door and locking it. Sentinel sitting next to you as he spoke. His voice was a bit softer and calmer.

One of his cervos then holding one of yours while he stared at you.

”I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this Y/N. But….the primes and High guard were not successful in the battle against the Quintissons. Everyone there became…lost.

The battle going on nods on. Until all Quintissons and bots died against each other. When I arrived. Nothing survived.”

You just stared at him with wide optics.

Tears form in your optics once more. Only able to do a single word with a hushed tone.

”No……..” You looked down. Sentinel then puts his other cervo on your shoulder as tears start to fall down your cheeks. “Please Sentinel! Tell me you’re just joking!” You begged. Looking at him with hopeful optics.

He just stared at you before looking away.

You continued to sit there unsure of how to feel. Sentinel would hold your chin with his cervo. But with the opposite cervo Starscream would use when he wanted you to look at him.

Sentinel speaking in a suspiciously casual tone.

“I’m certain Starscream would wish for you to continue moving on. So why not work for me hm? I promise with your help. We can continue the primes legacy.”

He said this all with a smile. You slowly opened your intake once more. Your voice is a little shaky. Placing your cervo over your stomach.

“What about….my sparkling?” He soon had a frown on his face plate. And seemed almost surprised. He seemed to also be struggling to find his words, then speaking with his calm tone once more.

”They can also be a part of making the city a better place with us.” You smile a little.

But what he said next made your blood run cold. “I don’t see self as someone to raise another’s sparkling. But if my chance includes that’s with a certain to have in my arms. Then I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

You stared at him with wide optics. He then snapping your digits.

Some of his personal guards came in and started to grab your stuff. You stood up trying to stop them. But Sentinel just grabbed your arm as he spoke. “Calm now my dear. Don’t wish to upset the little one.”

You looked back at him. His arm moving around your waist, while his other cervo held your own. He stared down at you with a devious smile.

”Come now, it’s time to return home.”

The guards pointed their guns at you. Showing you truly don’t have any choice in this. At all.

—————————————————————————

50 Cycles(years) have gone by….Starscream is still dead to now.

Your sparkling not long after joining Sentinel…..Prime and the new order. Your sparkling was born not long after. Luckily healthy and strong. A boy. He looks so much like Starscream.

With your optics and color scheme.

His helmet color is the same as Starscream. Luckily he was born to have your more calmer nature and his sires powerful combat skills.

50 Cycles since Sentinel made you his Conjunx. You are always able to convince him to not have a sparkle with you. Everything though, wasn’t the same since for you.

You didn’t have that much free will. And Sentinel always had to have you by his side. Unless it was to take care of your sparkling. Sentinel not showing much care for caring for your little one.

Even as he started to grow.

Sentinel never lets you go to the surface, even when he said the Quintissons left. You knew something was up, but he’d always threaten to do something to your sparkling if you try to defy him.

The only good thing out from all these years. Is watching your sparkling grow into a young adult. Always with a smile on your dermas.

Just like you.

The rare times you and your sparkling, Starlight. You tell him about his Sire Starscream. The stories of his victories and what his dreams were when he got to finally meet him when he was born.

As well as the battle with what his name will be.

Starlight growing to be a very handsome mech. Became one of the councilors, of course not without working for it.

One day, when Sentinel went out the search for the matrix, Starlight helped you out by distracting the guards. Having a higher power now. You descide to try to see what he’ll do.

And so, you flew after Sentinel and his guards.

Making sure Arachnid doesn’t notice you. You continued for a while. Making a stop when you saw a Quintissons ship. Stopping behind a mountain.

Peaking to the side watching him. That is..until someone appeared behind you. You turned around fast. But the bot behind you was faster.

Knocking you out. Everything soon turned black from there.

UGH I CANT WAIT FOR PART 2 THE ANGST FOR THE REUNION WILL BE DELICIOUS! I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i did. I live writing for Starscream. He so silly. <3 part 2 might be a while but i promise it’ll be worth it!!!!

As always a repost is appreciated and ill see you guys in the next one!!!!

#transformers #x reader #transformers x reader #transformers one #transformers one x reader #tfo starscream x reader #tf one starscream #starscream x reader #starscream #cybertronain reader #cybertronian reader #cybertronians

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