#I've been screaming about this exact same thing for ever

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Seven x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader is insensitive and an asshole since they're also a supe working at vought, your powers are the exact same as Deadpool (even the skin condition), mention about killing, death, gore, r-pe, n@zis?!?!, alcohol, some intimacy (?). Also reader is gn!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the boys <3

HOMELANDER

This man hates you so fking much

Has tried to kill you multiple times, he tried lasering you, tearing you in half and even throwing you into the sky but you just always manage to come back like the damn plague

Eventually he gives up trying to kill you and just had to deal with the fact you'll be kept alive... just temporarily though... he's still looking for ways to kill you

However, your powers gave you dozens of advantages when around Homelander.

He can be having a meeting about something serious and everyone would be listening to him due to their fear towards him, then there's you who'd be doing your own thing and just shout out unrelated things like "Donald Trump just blocked me on Twitter!! HAH!! SUCK IT CORNFLACKS!!"

Everyone turning to you with startled expressions while Homelander simply rolls his eyes before continuing his presentation.

You are a complete nightmare to the PR team, that's why for interviews or any events, you'll always be paired up with Homelander so he can keep you under control and stop you from saying weird shit that could ruin the company's image.

"So Deadpool, how does it feel being in the Seven working alongside Homelander? You've been working together for almost 3 years now" A reporter would ask as you two are surrounded by screaming fans.

"Like I'm in the twilight series, not because of the fantasy but because I'm still waiting for the part where he impregnates me—"

"O-kay! That's enough, just silly ol' Deadpool with those inside jokes"

"You can tell in this eyes that he wants to fuck me right now. HE'S GONNA FUCK ME!!" You shouted as you're being dragged away by him.

Obviously when you had found out about his relationship with Stormfront, especially her background, you had to say some shit about it. Not giving the slightest care about the fact he could be grieving over her death.

He'll be in his room standing in front of the window and you'd just storm in, being as loud as possible.

"I can't believe you dated a N@zi!! Is it because I'm Jewish?!" Which may or may not be true, nobody knows your origin.

He may hate your guts but if he ever needs someone to help him do some dirty work, you're the person for the job, you never ask why or how, which could be the only thing he likes about you.

"Y'know, maybe if you didn't have such a big mouth, you'd be tolerable"

"All the people I've slept with have said otherwise"

Compatibility? 50%

STARLIGHT

Before she joined the Seven, she had an image of what kind of person you were, she just didn't know it was this worse.

When you found out she used to work at this Sunday School Church, you just haaaaad to say something about it.

"So like, you say that prayer always works, but every night I pray for my hair to grow and it never does. Do you think God has me blocked? How do I get unblock?"

"Uh..."

You two surprisingly get along without one wanting to slice the other's throat, except sometimes the things you say can really piss her off. Which is why when the company assigned her a new costume, she was trying her hardest to avoid you, but you found out anyways.

"Holy shit Starlight! Nice costume, is this your Miley Cyrus breakthrough? Girl power!"

Insert her groaning out of annoyance.

Again, the second you discovered she was dating a guy behind the death of Translucent, you were heartbroken :(

"Of course this happens right when my therapist gives up on me!"

Despite your behaviour, you pitied her when it was revealed that she was taken advantage of by The Deep, so like any good friend, you took revenge by cooking his friend octopus and eating it happily in front of him.

"Revenge does taste sweet" You'd say happily while Starlight just watches by the side, both grateful and horrified at your actions.

In my opinion, you would definitely be the person she goes to once she starts working with the boys, you'll always be providing whatever information that happens in the company for her to use.

It helps her worry less about getting anyone killed 'cause you literally can't die.

Compatibility? 60%

QUEEN MAEVE

You're half the reason why she rethinks about her life choices when she wakes up in the morning

Not because you're a handful (which you are) but because you're always paired together on missions

"Deadpool! The hostages!"

"OKAY! God... you act just like my drunk uncle"

Which is a joke/nickname you like to address her by because of her alcoholism (yikes)

Whenever the company needs you for something, half of the time she's the one assigned to search for you.

There was this one time she caught you trying to have Anika track down Kanye West's location, nobody knows what shenanigans you were up to.

Another thing to mention was that you two were chosen by the company to sing a Christmas song for the year's Christmas ceremony.

Just imagine during the bridge of the song, she's singing normally while you're completely going off, your high note so high you were sure you had Mariah Carey a run for her money.

Even though she finds you a lot to deal with, you're actually her buddy to train with.

Since you're very skilled with Katanas, she likes to practice her swordsmanship with you.

You like to tease or make fun of her everytime she fails to strike you which is good motivation for her to get better. Maybe you guys bring out the best of each other?

Last thing I'd like to add is when she was found out by the public that she was a lesbian (She's bi but you get the running joke), you had gifted her a t-shirt that says, 'Biggest Dick in Town'

Compatibility? 80%

THE DEEP

Your human punching bag

If Vought was a high school instead of a company, you'd be the bully and he'd be the nerd getting stuffed inside the locker room.

For example, Homelander could be confronting Starlight about her relationship with Hughie and everyone would just start raising their voices til you come in yelling "SHUT UP!" to the Deep who had not said a single thing during the entire time.

Just imagine him staring at you like 😐

To be honest you also ate his friend octopus so you guys are actually never getting the chance to make up.

"Look dude, I don't appreciate your tone"

"I don't appreciate your haircut either but we can't all get what we want"

You may be a crazy person but you weren't going to be okay with the fact he violates every woman he sees, so not only did you cook the octopus but you also called in a male stripper disguised as a woman just for him to celebrate on his birthday.

Just imagine him all happy when you tell him the news and later that night he'll run inside your room, completely pissed off at your act after finding out but you just laughed and said.

"Happy April Fools 😚!"

"That's next month dipshit!"

Also, you never understood his weird fantasies. He has a thing for sea animals??You've caught him multiple times either flirting or getting off to one. It was concerning even for you.

"From how many animals you've fucked, you might just turn from the ocean's 'Seaman' to 'Semen'." You joked which he did not find funny.

Maybe you messing with him could just be your way of getting along with him since you're the same with everybody else, it's just he has more flaws to poke fun of and he's sensitive about them.

Compatibility? 5%

A-Train

He thinks you're fucked up in the head.

Half of the shit that comes out of your mouth just has him reacting like in the GIF

Buuuuuut you're the one he always brings to the club because you always know ways to give the party life.

You've somehow even got on the wall of fame, a lovely portrait of you with your hands making out a heart.

Also, you know about his business with Compound V waaaaay before anyone else did. He's still grateful you didn't tell anyone.

Just like everyone else, you also enjoy messing with him except he's fast and constantly avoiding you.

"Hey A-Train, how much do you wanna bet that I can die faster than you?"

"Dude... seriously?"

You guys rarely get sent on missions together because you're always slowing him down, not basing off the fact he's fast but because you get easily sidetracked with other things.

"Alright, we're here now, how much C4 do we use?"

"Fuck math! Let's use all of 'em!"

You ended up detonating all of the C4 on you before he could object the idea, he was able to run out in time, your action nearly getting him killed while you ended up dead.

But it's fine you'll just grow back.

You know that race he has against Shockwave? You'd be at the VIP section standing near where Homelander and Queen Maeve is, waving your huge banner that has a picture of A-Train's face and yours pasted over a figure carrying the other in bridal style.

Compatibility? 55%

TRANSLUCENT

He makes people paranoid but you make him disgusted.

There was this one time he was bored so he snuck in your room to see what you were doing.

At first he was confused why you had so many cute plushies but then the more he explored your room, he realised your room is basically every collector's dream.

You even had a huge teddy bear in the corner of your dressing room.

The reason why he doesn't like to spy on you is because the last time he did, he saw you putting your hand in the blender, then proceeding to put your private part into it.

Never again, he thought, never again.

He doesn't need to witness you carry out your intrusive thoughts.

Surprising enough, you're close with his son, I'd like to think that after his death, you practically became the kid's godparent. Though you can be sort of a bad influence, leading up to how he is in Gen V.

You always tell him you hate kids but he thinks otherwise.

After all, he can read people well.

You guys like to pull pranks on each other since you guys like competing on who's more sneaky

There was this one time, you woke up to find your suit gone so you ended up walking around the building, completely naked and unfazed by people's stares.

It was when you walked around the corner that you found your suit worn by someone else, turns out it was Translucent under it.

"Why is it so fucking tight dude? How do you stay in this shit all day?"

"You get used to it"

Compatibility? 85%

BLACK NOIR

Lovers.

He doesn't mind your attitude because he actually can't say anything about it.

No seriously... he can't talk.

But hey he's got a good shoulder to cry on.

"I just... hffgh... I can't believe my album didn't surpass lady gaga's... She doesn't even know how to use Katanas like I do!" You'd let out a loud sob while he just stares at you for a while before placing a hand on your shoulder, patting you gently.

You know the scene where he's playing the piano for one of the company's party? You'll be laying down on top of it and singing in your usual overdramatic high pitched voice.

He finds your humour amusing so he always does this little head tilt like in the GIF when you say some weird shit while waiting for his response.

Since both of you are the only members of the Seven that wears a full body suit, obviously you had to try on his but since it was impossible to achieve that, you just had the company make a copy for you.

He'll be walking down the hallway doing his normal routine until he notises another person in his suit, the moment you speak and he realises its just you is when he let's his guard down.

"I just got some transplants done to my ass, that's why I look different"

You both are never sent on missions together 'cause you guys don't work well, pretty much nobody works well with him since he's the silent type.

Example, you two were hiding behind some crates ready to jump on the bad guys who were snucking in illegal drugs. He gestured for you to wait as he went to check again, only to turn back to see you gone.

"Marry Christmas motherfuckers!"

He heard your voice shout and he found you standing on top of the stacked crates, machine gun in hand and began shooting aimlessly.

He didn't even do anything but just watch until you ran out of bullets. However, multiple survived and began shooting at you so you ended running towards where he's hiding at.

"Yankee yankee!" You yelped.

You know the video of the two girls taking off their wigs to reveal that they're bald and they start bonding over it? I'd like to imagine that's you and Black Noir with the skin condition under the suits.

One more scenario I wanna add, you guys could be having a meeting but since you were bored and you always hated meetings, you'd draw a big heart on a piece of paper and show it to Black Noir from across the table. Surprisingly he'd draw a heart back to you.

You were overjoyed so you began to draw you and him doing it, doggy style. He stares at your doodle for a while before choosing to just focus on the meeting instead.

Compatibility? 90%

(This took a while cause I was on vacation)

[dreamersworldduh]

BEYOND THE PAST

• CONNER KENT x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — You and Conner Kent are mysteriously pulled through time by your future son, Casey Kent, and arrive at a rebuilt Mount Justice. There, you encounter the next generation of heroes—the children of your former teammates—and a future shaped by your legacy, one you haven't even begun to live.

WARNING! FLUFF. Male Pregnancy.

WORDS! 9.2k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Okay, here we are with part 2 of this series that I almost attempted to purse a series on Wattpad. Anyway, sorry for the wait—enjoy your reading✨🫶🏽

NEXT PART! —

PREVIOUS PART! — THE STARS

YOU AND Conner stood frozen, eyes locked on the young man in front of you—Casey Kent, your supposed son. The weight of his words echoed in your mind, refusing to settle, refusing to feel real. The world around you felt oddly still, as if even the air in the futuristic Mount Justice had paused to process what had just been revealed.

Shock didn't even begin to describe what you were feeling.

Disbelief sat heavy in your chest, your pulse pounding in your ears. Denial should've been your first reaction. It was your first reaction, bubbling up instinctively because nothing about this made sense—time travel, future children, a grown man standing here calling you 'Dad'.

But then there was his face.

The shape of his jaw, the curve of his brow, the hair that curled slightly at the ends just like Conner's did when it got too long. His stance, his energy, the calm intensity in his gaze—it all screamed Kent. But it was his eyes, glowing faintly with the same cosmic shimmer as yours, that made something deep in your chest tighten.

He wasn't lying. He couldn't be.

You and Conner exchanged a glance, neither of you speaking, but both clearly grappling with the same thought:

Could this really be our son?

Casey took a small step forward, reading the disbelief in your faces with understanding. His voice, when he spoke again, was calm but sure, steady like someone who had prepared for this exact moment.

"I know this is a lot to take in. Believe me, I've had years to think about how this meeting might go." He gave a faint smile, though it was lined with something almost sad. "You're both still trying to figure out how any of this is possible. So... let me explain."

You and Conner remained silent, waiting—watching—as Casey folded his arms and took a breath.

"You've been brought twenty-five years into the future," he said, gesturing around the high-tech room. "This is Mount Justice—rebuilt after the war. A lot's changed, but this place is still home. For me. For the next generation. For you... eventually."

Your brows furrowed, but you didn't interrupt. The mention of a war raised alarms in your mind, but you stored that away, for now.

Casey continued. "I didn't use a time machine, or a speedster's help. The kind of time travel I used—it's... magical. Purely." He paused, eyes glinting slightly. "Zatanna helped me. Or rather, future Zatanna. It was risky, but we didn't have a choice. Something's happening in your time that could change everything—including whether or not we're ever born."

"We?" Conner finally spoke, his voice still low, controlled, but laced with suspicion. "There's more of you?"

Casey nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah. I'm the oldest. You'll have four kids in total—me, and my younger siblings: Corra, Cole, and Cameron."

You sucked in a slow breath, your body still trying to process one impossible thing before being handed four more.

Casey chuckled gently at your stunned expression, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know. It sounds wild. But it's true. We were all born from the two of you. Raised at Mount Justice. Trained with the League, the Team... the next generation of heroes."

He looked at both of you now, with a kind of reverence in his gaze. "You were incredible parents. Strict sometimes, yeah—but you taught us how to be strong, how to be better. You loved us fiercely. We grew up watching how much you loved each other."

His words hit like a quiet storm, spreading warmth and weight across your chest. You hadn't even wrapped your head around the idea of having a baby in your timeline, and now here was the future standing in front of you—grown, articulate, and impossibly real.

And he wasn't just proof of your future. He was hope.

But beneath that hope, a flicker of dread sparked. If he was here now, twenty-five years before his own birth... what exactly was he trying to stop?

As if reading your thoughts, Casey's expression shifted. The warmth and familiarity that had flickered across his face moments ago faded, replaced by a much colder seriousness. He folded his arms over his chest and let out a quiet breath, his tone dropping into something more measured.

"The man who attacked you—he's not from your time either," he said. "He came through the same kind of rift I did, though we still don't fully understand how he managed to pull it off. His presence in your timeline is... dangerous. Unstable."

Your chest tightened. You exchanged a quick glance with Conner, who remained stoic at your side but tense, his jaw clenched and his fists flexing at his sides.

"Who is he?" you asked, your voice low, wary. "What does he want with us?"

Casey's gaze hardened. "We don't know much. He's elusive. Off the grid, even in our time. But we know one thing for sure—his name."

He paused for a beat, then said it: "Olympian."

The name hit the air like a cold gust of wind.

"Olympian?" Conner repeated, the word rolling from his tongue with suspicion. "Sounds like some wannabe god."

Casey gave a dry, humorless smirk. "Yeah. That's kind of the point. He sees himself as something greater. He draws power from something ancient—some believe it's a corrupted form of cosmic and divine energy, others think he was born in a lab like you, Dad. But no one's been able to confirm the truth. He operates in shadows, moves across timelines, and his agenda..."

He shook his head.

"All we know is that he has a vendetta. A deep one. Not just against the League or the Team, but specifically against our family."

Your stomach sank.

"Me?" you asked quietly.

Casey nodded slowly. "You've always been his focus. For years now. We don't know what ties him to you, or why it's so personal, but he's made it clear—you're the one he wants. You're the one he's been trying to get to. But since he can't reach you in our time—either because of the protections around our timeline or something else—we became the targets instead."

Your breath caught. "You mean... your siblings."

Casey's jaw clenched. "Corra, Cole, Cameron. He's tried to go after all of us at different points. He's calculating. Brutal. But always just out of reach, always hitting and vanishing before we could catch him. We never knew when or where he'd strike next."

You could feel Conner tense beside you, his protective instincts kicking in the second he realized his children—his future—had been threatened.

"But now," Casey continued, "something changed. Somehow, Olympian found a way to get around the safeguards. To go back—way back. To your time. To you."

The weight of that landed like a punch to the chest.

"So now he's not just targeting the future anymore," you muttered. "He's here. In our time. Coming after us directly."

Casey's eyes met yours. "We don't know how long he'll stay hidden, or what his next move is, but one thing is certain—he's not going to stop. Not until he gets to you."

The room fell quiet again, the hum of distant technology the only sound.

"He's not just hunting you," Casey added after a beat. "He's hunting your legacy. And now that he's here, everything is at risk."

You swallowed hard, your hand instinctively resting against your abdomen, where your future had only just begun. The gravity of it all settled into your bones.

Olympian wasn't just a threat to your life.

He was a threat to everything you and Conner had yet to build.

Conner's voice broke the heavy silence that had fallen over the room, rough around the edges but steady, the kind of tone he only used when something was bothering him deep down. He had been quiet ever since Casey mentioned Olympian targeting your children—his children. His mind was clearly spinning, caught between the reality of what was happening now and the impossible weight of what this future could become.

He took a small step forward, his brows pulled together in thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

"What about... us?" He glanced briefly at you, then looked back to Casey. "In the future. Where are we?"

Casey's expression changed instantly.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face—grief, restraint, nostalgia, maybe all three tangled into one complicated emotion. He glanced away for a moment, his shoulders tense, the weight of the question visibly sinking into him. When he looked back, he met Conner's eyes and forced a small, bittersweet smile.

"You live in Smallville," Casey said gently. "In the farmhouse. The one you grew up in with Ma Kent. It's... still there. You kept it all these years after Uncle Clark moved to Metropolis with Lois and Jon."

The words landed with a kind of quiet finality. You could practically see the memory forming in Conner's mind—the creaking wood floors, the scent of baked pie, the open fields stretching for miles, untouched by time. Smallville. Of course it would be Smallville. It was the one place that had always grounded him.

"That's where I grew up," Casey added, his voice softening. "You raised us there. It was safe. Peaceful. You kept us close to the land, away from the chaos when you could. You taught us how to fight, sure—but you also taught us how to live. You taught us what mattered."

Conner's eyes dropped to the floor, jaw flexing slightly, clearly caught between pride and guilt. Pride that he'd raised a family like that... guilt that he couldn't yet understand what led him there. What would lead you both there.

Then, Conner asked the next question—the one you had been quietly dreading ever since Casey first appeared.

"What about him?" Conner asked quietly, his eyes drifting to you now. "What about... him?"

Casey's gaze shifted. You watched as his mouth parted slightly, as if he had prepared for this moment, maybe even rehearsed it in his mind a thousand times. But no words came. He opened his mouth again, then closed it, his jaw tightening. The shimmer in his eyes shifted, not glowing with cosmic energy this time, but something much more human.

Grief.

He couldn't speak. He looked at you for a long moment, and you saw it written plainly on his face.

You understood. Immediately.

It was the way his expression faltered, the way he clenched his fists, the way his gaze dropped as if meeting your eyes would make it all too real. He didn't have to say it. You knew what he was trying to avoid saying. What he couldn't bring himself to put into words.

You reached out instinctively, gently resting a hand on his arm. He didn't flinch. He didn't pull away. He simply exhaled—a slow, trembling breath—and gave the faintest shake of his head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

You nodded once, trying to keep your own expression steady. You didn't press him. There was no need. The silence between you said it all.

Conner looked between the two of you, his features hardening with the realization. His jaw tensed, and he turned away for a moment, letting the truth sink in. You could feel the shift in him, that familiar storm of protectiveness and pain brewing just under the surface.

The truth was clear. In the future Casey came from, you were gone.

But your legacy—your children, your strength, your love—remained.

And now, in this time, you had a chance to protect all of it before anything could take it away.

The corridor leading to the mission room was bathed in soft, ambient light, humming with the quiet energy of advanced tech. You walked beside Conner, still trying to absorb the sheer reality of everything Casey had told you. The weight of his revelations pressed against your chest like a second skin—about the future, your children, and the war you had yet to witness.

Casey walked a few steps ahead, his cloak swaying as he led you and Conner through the gleaming hallways of the rebuilt Mount Justice. Every inch of the base had been upgraded—sleek metal walls lined with embedded light panels, holographic directories, and clear glass doors that shimmered as they slid open with a whisper.

But the mission room ahead still gave you a familiar feeling. It had the same general structure—round table in the center, chairs arranged in a circle, and the large wall display you remembered from your own time. The energy of the space, though modernized, still buzzed with purpose.

As the doors parted, you stepped in, and immediately all eyes in the room turned toward you.

There were six young heroes gathered at the table, clearly in the middle of a briefing, until your sudden entrance drew their full attention. Each of them wore a uniform representing their lineage—familiar emblems worn in bold new styles, the next generation of the Team.

Standing at the head of the table, aged but powerful in presence, was Nightwing.

His once jet-black hair was streaked with silver at the temples, but his stance was strong, sharp as ever. The iconic black and blue uniform had evolved, now bearing a sleek, high-collared design and a digital gauntlet on his left arm. But even beneath the armor and the years, that unmistakable calm authority still radiated from him.

When his piercing blue eyes landed on you and Conner, his expression shifted from stern focus to something else—surprise, followed quickly by recognition.

He stepped forward slightly, his voice roughened by age but still confident.

"Well, I'll be damned..." he muttered under his breath.

You opened your mouth to greet him, but the younger heroes were already reacting.

One of them, a girl with vibrant reddish-pink hair tied in a braid and wearing a sleek black-and-violet suit with glowing orange accents, stood up quickly. She had Starfire's fierce eyes and Nightwing's calculated poise—clearly their daughter. Her gaze bounced between you, Conner, and Casey, curiosity flaring.

Next to her sat a lean boy with wind-swept blond hair, wearing a golden and green suit, a stylized arrow symbol on his chest. His green eyes narrowed with interest, and you didn't need anyone to tell you—he was the son of Artemis and Wally. The confident smirk on his face was pure West.

Across the table were twin girls in matching uniforms, sleek ocean-blue with bioluminescent white detailing. Their red hair was tied back in tight buns, and their eyes glowed faintly—echoes of both M'gann and Lagoon Boy. The bond between them was clear even from a glance, their body language almost synchronized.

Standing near the back was a quiet, contemplative teen with olive skin and sharp, intelligent eyes. His outfit was a deep navy, adorned with arcane sigils across the arms and chest—his aura practically shimmered with latent magic. You felt a twist of recognition in your chest. He was the son of Zatanna and Dick Grayson, an heir to both combat and sorcery.

And finally, leaning casually with arms crossed, stood a broad-shouldered young man with deep brown skin and piercing dark eyes. His uniform was black and gold, trimmed with the markings of Atlantis and the sigil of the former king—Aqualad's son.

The room, moments ago full of discussion and strategy, had fallen into silence. They stared, not rudely, but with something close to reverence—like they had just stepped into the past, face-to-face with living legends.

Casey broke the silence.

"Everyone," he said, stepping aside, "I'd like you to meet my parents... from before it all started. From the past."

He looked back at you with a soft smile.

"This is my father—" He gestured to Conner, then you.

"And my pa."

There was a long pause, the gravity of the moment settling over everyone.

Nightwing let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh, walking forward. His smile was weathered but genuine.

"Welcome to the future," he said. "Looks like it found you whether you were ready or not."

It was strange—surreal, even—to stand in this space and be greeted not by your teammates, but by the next generation, the children of the people you once fought beside. Their faces held echoes of those you knew, and their energy hummed with the potential of everything you and Conner had once fought to protect.

Casey stepped forward, his expression filled with pride, yet undercut by a thread of reverence as he gestured toward the table, where the young heroes stood attentively.

"I figured it's only right you meet them properly," he said, glancing back at you with that warm, familiar smile—the one that made it impossible to deny he was yours.

You nodded, still a little breathless, your hand unconsciously resting over your abdomen, the place where your future—his future—had only just begun.

Conner, meanwhile, lingered for only a moment longer before his eyes shifted toward the back of the room where Dick wondered to, hands clasped behind his back.

As Casey began the introductions, Conner slowly made his way toward him, and you could see Dick's sharp eyes soften as they met Conner's. The two men held each other's gaze for a long second—like they were seeing ghosts, and maybe in a way, they were.

Casey motioned toward the first young woman—the one with the vibrant reddish-pink hair and the proud stance that reminded you so strongly of both fire and steel.

"This is Korya Grayson," Casey said. "Nightwing and Starfire's daughter. She's the field strategist for our squad, and probably the best flier out of all of us. Her Tamaranean side makes her a powerhouse, but don't let the fire fool you—she's calculated. Quiet strength."

Korya offered a respectful nod, her golden eyes studying you with a mix of awe and curiosity. You smiled, recognizing that spark in her gaze—the same sharp glint you'd seen so many times in Dick's.

Casey moved to the boy with the golden-and-green suit, his wind-tousled hair and smirk giving away his lineage before he even spoke.

"This is Ezra West, son of Artemis and Wally," Casey said, a hint of fond exasperation in his voice. "Fastest mouth on the planet and second-fastest feet. He inherited his dad's speed and his mom's attitude. Keeps us on our toes."

Ezra gave a cheeky wave. "Pretty wild to meet you before I even exist. Time travel is so weird."

You couldn't help but chuckle softly at that.

Casey turned to the twin girls standing just to the side of the table, their ocean-blue suits practically glowing under the light.

"Mira and May'al M'orzz, daughters of M'gann and Lagoon Boy. Telepathy, density-shifting, and emotional projection. They're always in sync, even when they pretend they're not. Mira leads with empathy, May'al with instinct."

The twins gave identical nods, their expressions calm but welcoming. You could feel the psychic flicker of curiosity coming from one of them—just a gentle touch, respectful, nothing invasive.

Then Casey stepped toward the teen cloaked in magic, his dark hair slightly curled, his fingers unconsciously brushing one of the glowing sigils on his forearm.

"This is Zahir Grayson, son of Zatanna and Dick." Casey's tone shifted slightly, more reverent here. "He's a walking library of magical knowledge. Z taught him everything she could. He's grounded, but you don't want to see him when the gloves come off."

Zahir nodded politely, his voice quiet but sure. "It's an honor to meet you. Both of you."

And finally, Casey gestured to the tall Atlantean teen with the black-and-gold armor, who had watched you the entire time with sharp, observant eyes.

"This is Kei'lan, son of King Kaldur'ahm. He's got the training of Atlantis and the spirit of the Team. Doesn't talk much—but when he does, you listen."

Kei'lan offered a respectful bow of the head, his deep voice smooth but serious. "I've heard many stories about you. None of them do justice to what I'm seeing now."

You gave him a nod of respect in return, humbled by his words.

As Casey finished the introductions, you glanced to your right, where Conner now stood face-to-face with Dick.

They weren't saying anything at first, just standing there in that heavy silence that needed no words. Then finally, Dick let out a quiet breath.

"It's been a long time," he said.

Conner's voice was softer than you expected. "You're older than I imagined."

Dick smiled faintly, his eyes flicking toward you. "And he look just like I remember him."

There was something unspoken in that moment, something heavy with shared grief, with the memory of the years between this moment and the ones that hadn't happened yet.

"Dick," Conner voiced, making the older man look at him. "I need to know what happened."

Dick finally looked at him. His blue eyes had a tiredness in them—older, yes, but deeper than just years. It was the kind of tired that only came from loss.

"We shouldn't talk about it," Nightwing said. "You shouldn't know yet."

Conner stepped forward, his tone hardening. "I have a son—four kids, Dick. I just found out about Casey a few days ago. Then I get time-traveled 25 years into the future and find out he's not the only one. We have three more. Corra. Cole. Cameron." His voice cracked slightly. "And none of them... have him."

Nightwing looked away again, his silence thicker than any wall.

Conner pressed on, the emotions bubbling just beneath the surface. "I've got future children looking at me like I'm their anchor, and their father— because—their Pa—isn't there anymore. The version of me in this time doesn't have the love of his life by his side. He's raising them alone." He took a shaky breath. "I need to know why."

Dick still didn't respond.

"And on top of that," Conner continued, almost growling, "some lunatic with god-like powers is hellbent on killing him. We don't know why, we don't know how, but he's already started by attacking our kids."

That seemed to finally break through.

Dick exhaled and rubbed his face, the tension in his shoulders clear. When he looked back at Conner, he seemed older than ever.

"It wasn't supposed to happen that way," Nightwing murmured. "None of it was."

"Then tell me," Conner said. "Please."

Nightwing hesitated for a long time. But finally, he turned away from the window and faced him directly.

"It was during the invasion," he began quietly. "Twelve years ago, the war with Darkseid happened."

Conner's eyes widened slightly, but he remained still.

"It wasn't just another battle," Dick continued. "It was the battle. Earth had been holding the line for years, but Darkseid finally came himself. No proxies, no parademons—it was him. Full force." He swallowed hard. "And your partner—he was the one who stepped up."

A chill ran down Conner's spine.

"We were losing," Dick said. "The League, the Team... nothing was stopping him. But your partner—he accessed something none of us had seen before. Something deeper in his cosmic power. A frequency... a kind of energy beyond anything we understood. I don't know if it was instinct, or desperation, but it worked."

He looked down, voice lower.

"He fought Darkseid. One-on-one. And he won."

Conner's breath caught.

"But it cost him." Dick's gaze lifted. "He was gone before any of us could even reach him. Vaporized in the sky, consumed by his own power. His energy tore through the battlefield like a second sun. It saved us. It ended the war." His jaw clenched. "And it broke the family he left behind."

Conner stood still, jaw trembling. He blinked rapidly, but no tears fell. Not yet.

Nightwing looked him square in the eyes. "You want to know why the future you is the way he is? Why your kids carry this weight? It's because they grew up with a legacy, not a father. They never heard his laugh, never saw the way he looked at you. They only know the stories." He shook his head. "And they loved him anyway."

Conner nodded slowly, his throat tight. "I'm not going to let that happen."

"I know," Dick replied softly. "That's why you're here."

The two men stood in silence, the weight of fate between them. And just down the hall, unaware of the truth that had just been spoken aloud, you stood surrounded by the next generation—smiling, unaware of the moment that would one day define your legacy.

Unaware of the price you'd pay for it.

THE TENSE moment was broken by the sudden hum and flash of the Zeta Tubes activating. A sharp, familiar chime echoed through the sleek metal corridors of the mission room, drawing everyone's attention.

Your head turned instinctively, the muscle memory still there after years of field missions and unexpected arrivals. Conner's body tensed beside you—not with fear, but with that same sharp edge of readiness he'd always carried when the unexpected walked through the door.

Out from the swirling light stepped a group of figures, all of them dressed in full gear. And though they wore new suits—refined, upgraded, more advanced than the ones you remembered—you recognized most of them almost immediately.

Just... older.

The first to emerge stood tall in regal red and gold armor, a tiara gleaming on her forehead, a lasso clipped at her side. Wonder Girl—Cassie Sandsmark—was no longer just the eager, bold young woman you once led into battle. She had grown into her title, and it was clear just by the way she carried herself. Now she was Wonder Woman, in every sense of the name. Her presence filled the room like a crashing wave—confident, commanding, unstoppable.

Beside her, in a sleek, black and red uniform with high-tech gauntlets and a tattered cloak trailing behind him, was Red Robin—Tim Drake. His eyes were sharper now, his expression more weathered, carrying the weight of too many secrets. His cowl was down, but the lines on his face told a story of battles won, and battles lost.

Just behind him, stepping casually out of the tube but scanning the room with a practiced speed, was Blue Beetle. Jaime Reyes. His armor looked more alien now than ever, etched with neon blue glyphs that pulsed as he moved. His eyes locked on you for a moment, widening just slightly in recognition before narrowing again—processing.

Then came a blur of red and white, slowing just enough to reveal a face that hadn't changed as much as the others—though the youthful glow had been replaced by experience and responsibility. Impulse—or rather, The Flash now. Bart Allen. His suit was sleeker, aerodynamic, the lightning bolt insignia sharp across his chest. And though he still carried that spark of enthusiasm in his eyes, there was something heavier behind it.

Static followed next, his coat flaring as he stepped onto the platform, electricity crackling lightly at his fingertips. His dreadlocks were longer now, streaked with silver at the ends, and his shoulders had broadened with age and command. He greeted a few of the young heroes with nods, familiarity in his movements.

Beast Boy walked in at a slower pace, his green skin now darker, his uniform more practical than playful. His expression was more solemn than you remembered, though he gave a faint smile in your direction—tinged with disbelief.

But it was the last figure who made you and Conner both stop dead in your tracks.

He stepped through with the confident weight of someone used to being watched, his cape sweeping behind him, tall and sharp in a black armored Batsuit. For a moment, your heart skipped a beat.

Batman.

But then he spoke.

"Report," he said, voice gravelled and steady, but not Bruce.

Your eyes widened slightly as your gaze swept over him—same bearing, same cape, same silhouette. But something was off. His frame was a bit leaner than Bruce's, his movements more fluid, and then you caught it. The jawline. The eyes. The presence that mirrored Bruce's, but with a precision that was more blade than shadow.

Damian.

Conner muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. "Wait... that's not Bruce."

You took a half step forward, your voice quiet with realization. "It's Damian."

Casey stepped in beside you, nodding. "He took up the cowl a few years ago. Bruce passed it to him before stepping down. Officially retired."

Your eyes lingered on Damian—Batman now—as he moved toward the others with surgical calm, engaging with the future Team leaders, speaking in low tones with Dick. But he didn't look at you. Not yet.

The feeling that crept into your chest was complex—nostalgia mixed with disorientation. These were your friends, your peers, your family. But they had grown, evolved, stepped into the roles you had only ever seen as distant futures.

Now they stood before you, a reflection of everything that would be.

And yet, here you were, still from a time where the world hadn't yet shattered. Where the future still hovered just beyond reach.

And every one of them was looking at you and Conner like you were ghosts

THE ROOM fell into a strange silence as the newly arrived heroes stood motionless, their eyes locked on you and Conner with expressions ranging from awe to outright disbelief. You could feel the weight of their gazes—each one of them seeing someone they hadn't laid eyes on in decades, someone they had believed was long gone, lost to time and sacrifice.

Wonder Woman—Cassie—was the first to break from her stunned expression. Her golden bracers caught the light as she stepped forward, her voice soft but laced with emotion. "It's really you..." she murmured. "You're—you're alive."

Tim—Red Robin—stood just behind her, his analytical gaze sweeping over you like a scanner, taking in every detail. "He's younger," Tim muttered, eyes narrowing slightly. "Both of them are. That's not the Conner from our time either."

"No," Bart—The Flash now—added with a blink. "They're from the past. Their biometrics, heart rates, aura frequencies... everything is younger. Before... everything happened."

You could see the emotion trying to crack through their composed faces. For them, this was like seeing ghosts return to life. You and Conner weren't just teammates or friends—you had been family. And for those who had carried your memory forward, seeing you now—untouched by time, unaware of your own future—was too much to fully comprehend.

Beast Boy took a slow step forward, his voice low and uncertain. "How is this even possible? He's been gone for decades. You—" he looked directly at you, and his throat tightened, "—you died."

Static folded his arms, electricity flickering faintly around his fingers. "There's no way this doesn't cause a paradox."

More murmurs echoed among them, confusion thick in the air.

But it was Batman—Damian Wayne—who spoke next, his tone sharp and coldly precise. "Casey." He didn't raise his voice, but the weight behind it sliced through the conversation like a blade. "You brought them here."

Everyone turned to Casey, who stood calmly beside you and Conner, seemingly unfazed by the intensity of the reactions around him. But you could see the tension in his shoulders, the careful way he held himself, like he was ready for the backlash.

"I did," Casey said evenly.

"You pulled them from the past," Damian pressed, stepping forward, his cape sweeping behind him. "Without League sanction. Without Zeta clearance. Without any temporal stabilization protocols. Do you have any idea what kind of damage you've done to the timeline?"

Casey remained composed, but the room tensed around them.

"I know exactly what I did," he replied, voice steady. "And I'd do it again."

Damian's scowl deepened. "You jeopardized everything we've built—everything they gave their lives for—because you wanted a reunion?"

"It's not about me," Casey snapped, and for the first time, his voice cracked, the pain breaking through the composure. "It was never about me."

He stepped forward, placing himself squarely between you, Conner, and the rest of the gathered heroes.

"Olympian is here. In their time. We don't know how he did it, but he found a way back—before all the safeguards, before the defenses, before the League had prepared for his kind of threat." Casey's eyes moved across the room. "If he kills him—" he gestured to you, "—he erases all of us. Me. Corra. Cole. Cameron. We'll never be born. And this version of Earth—everything you've built here—might not survive what comes next."

A heavy silence followed.

Casey looked directly at Damian. "I didn't do this for sentiment. I did it because we're losing. We've been on the defensive for years. And you know as well as I do that we've been missing something—someone."

His voice softened as he turned toward you.

"We need him," Casey said quietly. "We need them."

Damian didn't respond at first. His gaze lingered on you, unreadable behind the stoicism that defined him. But you could see it—the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers flexed at his side. He remembered you. He'd mourned you.

Finally, he stepped back.

"The damage is done," Batman said. "We can't send them back now, not without destabilizing the timeline further. Which means they're here—for now."

Everyone in the room seemed to take that as their cue to breathe again, the tension beginning to ease just slightly.

You looked to Casey, who exhaled deeply, the burden of his decision still pressing down on him, but his conviction unwavering.

"I know what's at stake," he said quietly. "But I'd rather risk the future... than lose the people who gave us one."

The familiar hum of the Zeta-Tube filled the air again, followed by the artificial voice announcing another incoming arrival. Heads turned instinctively toward the portal as the light shimmered and coalesced into form.

"Zeta-Tube activation: designation C-88, Corra Kent."

Before the light had fully faded, a young woman stepped through the glowing arch—tall, confident, and clearly frustrated, her voice already carrying through the room as if she'd been mid-rant during transport.

"Seriously, I leave for five minutes to patrol the south perimeter and the entire League just disappears? You all just ghosted me? Batman, I know you've got your mysterious ninja exit thing going, but the rest of you—really?" Her voice was sharp with exasperation, but there was something undeniably vibrant and familiar in her presence.

She had a striking appearance, blending your features and Conner's effortlessly. Her dark hair was pulled up into a high, practical bun, a few rebellious strands falling into her face. Her eyes—your eyes—glowed with that soft cosmic shimmer, and her uniform was black and silver with crimson accents, a long coat billowing behind her like a cape. The House of El symbol sat proudly on her chest, reimagined with intricate etchings that seemed to shift slightly in the light. Her boots clicked against the polished floor with each hurried step as she walked fully into the mission room.

"Okay, seriously, is anyone going to explain why I was left out of whatever this—" She suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

The room was silent. Everyone's eyes were on her, expressions varying between tense, awkward, and amused. Casey stood near the front, arms folded, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The rest of the older heroes stayed quiet, watching the scene unfold.

Corra's brows drew together as she glanced around. "Why is everyone staring at me like I just said I'm switching to villainy?" She gestured wildly. "Hello? What did I walk into?"

Casey stepped forward with a hand raised. "Corra... don't freak out."

She gave him a look that could only be described as pure little-sister irritation. "Why would I freak out, Casey? Is this about the tower lights again? Because I swear that wasn't me."

"No," he said quickly, then glanced toward you. "It's not that. It's just... maybe take a deep breath."

Still confused, Corra turned to follow her brother's line of sight—and her words caught in her throat.

There, across the room, standing near Conner with the quiet stillness of someone trying to understand the surreal moment they were living in—was you.

You watched her face shift. At first, there was confusion. Then recognition. Then something raw and unguarded—shock, disbelief, vulnerability. Her lips parted slightly, her chest visibly rising as her breath hitched.

She took a step forward, her voice trembling now, no longer filled with sarcasm or confidence.

"...Pa?"

Her eyes widened, tears immediately welling in them. She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what she was seeing, as if you might disappear at any moment if she blinked too long.

You took a step toward her, your own heart pounding in your chest, barely able to speak through the emotion rising in your throat.

"Corra," you said, your voice cracking on her name.

That was all it took.

In an instant, she closed the distance between you, flinging her arms around you with the force of someone who had waited years for this moment. She clung to you like a lifeline, her breath shaking as she buried her face in your shoulder.

You wrapped your arms around her instinctively, your chest tightening, your vision blurring as you held your daughter—your future daughter—in your arms for the very first time. She was grown. Strong. Brave. And yet in that moment, she melted into you like a child who had just been reunited with something she thought she'd lost forever.

No words were spoken for several long moments.

Just the quiet, heart-wrenching reunion of a father and the daughter he hadn't even met yet—but who had clearly been missing him for a very long time.

Corra trembled in your arms, her grip firm and desperate, as if afraid letting go would cause you to vanish again. Her face was buried in the crook of your shoulder, and even as the rest of the room watched in silence, giving you both space, she couldn't hide the tears that poured freely from her eyes.

Eventually, she pulled back just enough to see your face again—needing, craving that confirmation that this wasn't a dream or a cruel illusion. But the tears kept coming, streaming down her cheeks no matter how many times she tried to blink them away.

She let out a breathless laugh, half-choked, wiping at her face with her sleeve. "Gods, I can't even stop," she whispered, cheeks flushed. "This is so embarrassing."

You cupped her face gently, brushing a thumb beneath one of her eyes, your own expression soft, overwhelmed with emotion.

"Don't be," you murmured. "Not for this. Not ever."

Corra's lip trembled again, but she steadied herself, hands still resting lightly on your arms as if she couldn't fully let go yet. "You don't understand," she said, trying to collect herself. "You've been gone my whole life. I never even got to hear your voice—not like this. Casey told us everything he could, but it's not the same. And now you're just... here."

You nodded, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry," you said quietly. "I didn't know what the future would bring. I didn't know I'd—" You stopped yourself. There were some truths neither of you were ready to speak aloud. "I'm here now."

She nodded slowly, eyes still glistening, breathing shakily through the swell of emotion. She gave another soft laugh and leaned against your chest again, her voice muffled. "Cole and Cameron aren't going to believe this."

You smiled faintly, brushing a hand over her hair. "Tell me about them."

Corra pulled back again, her eyes lighting up even through the tears. "Cole's twenty, hothead like me—maybe worse. Has your stubborn streak, but Dad's glare. Cameron's seventeen, quiet, way too smart for his own good. He's the empath. He'll probably cry just from being in the same room as you. They're gonna lose their minds when they hear you're here."

You could only imagine it—three more children who had inherited pieces of you and Conner, who had grown up never knowing you, but apparently carrying your legacy in their blood and spirit.

Corra wiped at her eyes again, finally beginning to breathe a little steadier. But then her gaze shifted past your shoulder—and landed on Conner.

She blinked in surprise, and for a moment she just stared, brows lifting, lips parting in disbelief. Then she tilted her head and gave a low whistle.

"Whoa..." Her voice was filled with recognition, and just a little amusement. "That's weird."

You turned slightly as she stepped toward Conner, studying him with wide eyes. "You look so young," she said, almost laughing. "I just saw you this morning at breakfast—grumbling over burned toast and yelling at Cole for leaving his boots on the stairs. You had more gray in your hair and half the patience."

Conner looked a little taken aback, but his smirk crept in, faint but real. "I guess future me's a grump?"

Corra grinned through the last of her tears. "Oh, you have no idea."

But then her gaze softened again, and for a beat, she just stared between you both—her two fathers, together, alive, and younger than she ever thought she'd see them.

"I can't believe this is real," she whispered. "But I'm so glad it is."

Later that night, the once-bustling mission room of Mount Justice had gone quiet. The energy that had filled it earlier—buzzing with reunions, disbelief, and the unmistakable weight of time colliding with itself—had faded into a more serene stillness. The blue ambient glow from the overhead lights reflected softly against the walls, casting long shadows across the floor as the hour grew late.

The League had been the first to leave.

Word of a critical incident unfolding in the outer quadrants of the Earth's defense grid had called the senior heroes back into action. There was urgency in their departure, but even amid the chaos, they took the time to come to you and Conner—individually. Each of them embraced you both with heartfelt goodbyes, some quick, others lingering. Cassie had held you longer than you expected, whispering that she never thought she'd get a chance to say goodbye properly, then promising she'd return. Tim had offered a simple handshake, though his eyes betrayed how deeply your reappearance affected him. Bart—still quick—hugged both of you in a blur of motion and words.

Beast Boy looked like he wanted to say more but couldn't find the words. Static just nodded with the quiet understanding of a man who'd seen too much. And Damian—Batman—said nothing at all, but his eyes held a rare respect as he turned and disappeared into the shadows with the rest.

Once the last echo of the Zeta-Tube faded and the glowing arch powered down, it was just the four of you left: you, Conner, Casey, and Corra.

Dick and the next-gen Team had tactfully cleared out, giving you all space without even needing to be asked. Zahir offered a respectful bow before vanishing in a shimmer of magical glyphs. Mira and May'al gave Corra soft smiles. Ezra flashed a wink. Korya nodded to Casey and said, "Take your time. We've got things covered here."

Now, in the softened quiet of the mission room's lounge, a low conversation had begun between your children—children you had only just met, yet already felt tied to in a way that was almost painful in its intensity.

Corra sat cross-legged on the sleek, cushioned bench, a throw blanket around her shoulders like she was a child again, despite being a fully trained powerhouse of a hero. Casey leaned against the holo-console beside her, arms folded, one foot propped against the wall.

You sat nearby on a lower step beside Conner, listening to them with a kind of quiet wonder. Even now, you were still absorbing everything—every word, every gesture. Watching the two of them interact, argue lightly, laugh—it stirred something deep in your chest.

"So," Corra was saying, wiping the last of her dried tears away and smoothing her now-frizzed hair, "do we take them to Kansas tomorrow? I mean, it's tradition. Dad always does dinner on Sundays. Cameron's probably going to freak out when he sees Pa."

Casey raised a brow. "Freak out? Corra, you practically collapsed. Cameron's going to start crying the second he feels Pa walk into the house."

"That's sweet," you murmured softly to Conner, who smirked, though his eyes remained fixed on the siblings in front of him.

"Anyway," Casey continued, arms now gesturing, "we also have no idea how Dad is going to react."

Corra frowned. "You mean future Dad?"

"Yeah," Casey said. "He's... different. Not in a bad way, just—he's been carrying a lot. Raising all of us without Pa. Alone, basically. He's not cold, but it's not easy for him. Seeing them"—he gestured toward you and Conner—"younger, full of life again, especially Pa... It's going to hit hard."

Corra looked down at her hands for a moment. "Yeah," she admitted. "It will." She glanced back up at you, her expression gentler now. "But I think he needs to see you. Even if it hurts."

You felt your throat tighten, but you nodded, voice soft. "If he needs time, we'll give it to him. But... if it means seeing my kids again, all of them together... I'll face whatever comes."

Conner nodded beside you, his hand brushing against yours in a silent affirmation. "We'll do it together. Like we always have."

Casey smiled slightly at that—like a part of him had been waiting to hear that for years.

"Okay," he said. "Then we'll bring you to Kansas tomorrow."

He looked between you and Conner, his gaze settling on yours. "Just... be ready. He's not the man you knew. He's you—but after a lifetime of losing you."

You nodded slowly, heart pounding.

Then Corra reached for your hand again, gripping it tightly. "But he's still your Conner. Just... older, a little more tired. But deep down, he's been waiting for this."

You smiled at her, your voice trembling. "So have I."

After the long, emotionally charged day, Casey offered a quiet nod and gestured for you and Conner to follow him down a private corridor branching off from the main living quarters of the rebuilt Mount Justice. The halls were lined with softly glowing panels, their subtle illumination casting calm, ambient hues along the walls. The sound of your footsteps echoed faintly, the only noise breaking the hush of night as the base settled into stillness.

Neither you nor Conner spoke much during the walk. The two of you were exhausted—not from battle, but from the sheer magnitude of everything that had happened in a single day. The future had dropped into your lives like a meteor, shattering everything you thought you knew and leaving you surrounded by the fallout: older versions of friends, grown children you hadn't yet fathered, and the looming shadow of a threat determined to end you before your legacy could ever begin.

Casey stopped in front of a curved doorway that slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a sleek but comfortably designed room bathed in cool blue lighting. It was clearly a spare guest suite, but it still had a warmth to it—like someone had taken the time to ensure it wasn't cold or sterile. A large bed sat nestled against one wall with a set of smooth, metallic drawers beneath a transparent data panel. There were folded clothes already prepared on the bench at the foot of the bed, and a softly humming ventilation system filled the space with the faint scent of something earthy and calming—like cedar and starlight.

"This used to be Zatanna's room," Casey said as he stepped aside to let you in. "She stayed here a lot before moving into the Tower permanently. We've kept it ready. You can rest here tonight."

You gave a small nod of gratitude, stepping into the room. The floor beneath your boots shifted slightly, designed to adjust for comfort and temperature. Conner walked in behind you, his gaze sweeping across the futuristic amenities, but his expression was distant. You could tell he was still mentally unraveling everything—especially the idea that the older version of him had raised four children without you by his side.

Casey lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, watching the two of you as if he didn't want to leave, as if part of him still couldn't believe you were really there.

"You two deserve a moment to breathe," he said finally. "I'll check in first thing in the morning. We've got a lot to figure out... but for now, just rest."

You turned to him, meeting his eyes, and for a second the air between you felt fragile, delicate, as if too many more words would break the spell. So instead, you simply said, "Thank you, Casey."

He gave a soft smile—one that looked almost exactly like yours—and nodded.

As the door hissed shut behind him, sealing you and Conner in the quiet of the room, a long silence stretched between you.

You sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, the cushion adjusting beneath you with silent precision. Your hands fell into your lap as you let out a slow, unsteady breath.

Conner crossed the room, dropping heavily into the bed across from you. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped as he stared at the floor. The weight in his posture mirrored yours.

Finally, you looked up and met his eyes.

"We're in the future," you said softly, still not quite believing it. "We met our children. We met our son. Our daughter."

Conner nodded, his jaw tight. "And... I raised them without you."

You stood up, crossing to him slowly, and rested your hand on his shoulder.

"You didn't lose me," you said. "Not yet. And we're going to fight like hell to make sure it stays that way."

He looked up at you then, his expression hard—but vulnerable in a way few ever saw. He gave a short nod, then pulled you down beside him.

You two laid down on the bed, you were lying on your side, your back pressed against Conner's chest. His arms were around you, strong and steady, holding you close as if anchoring you there, grounding both of you in this strange reality. His hand moved in slow, soothing circles over your lower abdomen, where the life growing inside you had yet to show. The gesture was gentle, almost reverent, as if he were touching something fragile and sacred.

You placed your own hand over his, lacing your fingers together with his warmth beneath your palm. You didn't speak for a while. You didn't need to. You both just breathed—together, quiet, still.

Eventually, it was Conner who broke the silence.

"We don't even know who he is," he murmured, his voice low and quiet in the dark. "Olympian. No one does. Not even in this time."

You nodded slightly, your head resting on the pillow. "Just his name. No origin. No motive. Just... that he's after me. And that he's willing to kill for it."

Conner's hand paused for a moment before it started moving again, slower now, his touch protective. "He's not going to touch you," he said firmly. "Not while I'm breathing. And he sure as hell won't get near the kids."

His words were steel. Not a promise—a vow.

You turned your head just enough to look at him, catching the edge of his profile in the soft light. His jaw was clenched, his expression distant but focused. Beneath the surface calm, you could feel the storm he was keeping buried. The thought of anyone—especially someone like Olympian—hurting his family was enough to set the air around him on edge.

"He already tried," you whispered. "He went after them. In the future. And now he's here, in our time, trying to stop everything before it even starts."

Conner tightened his arm around you. "Then we stop him first."

You swallowed hard, emotions bubbling up again. "What if... what if I really do have something in me? Something he wants. Something cosmic. Something I can't even understand."

"Then we figure it out," he said without hesitation. "Together. Like we always do."

You let the silence stretch again, comforted by the steady beat of his heart against your back.

After a moment, you spoke again, softer this time. "You think he'll come for us again soon?"

Conner's voice was cold, calm, but dangerous in that way only he could be when he meant every word. "If he does... I'll make sure he never touches you. Or Casey. Or Corra. Or anyone with our name."

You turned in his arms slowly until you were facing him, pressing your forehead gently to his. His eyes met yours, unwavering.

"I know you will," you said.

His hand slid up, brushing your cheek, then down again to rest protectively over your still-flat stomach. You both stayed like that for a while—wrapped in each other, guarding something fragile, something that hadn't fully formed yet but had already changed everything.

Whatever came next—whatever darkness was waiting in the wings—you wouldn't face it alone. Not now. Not ever again.

[gloomskulls]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE [tasm!peter parker]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 2

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ For Peter Parker, the deepest secret is not being Spider-Man. It's that he likes you, no he loves you, wants you in any imaginable way possible. After years of quietly admiring you from a distance, everything changes after a biology project that partners you two together. Peter sees a glimpse of chance to get nearer to you, but the line of affection and obsession begins to blur

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ obessive peter, creep peter, stalking, masturbation, panty sniffing, dirty thoughts, breaking in, just peter being hopelessly in love. If any of this finds you uncomfortable, please click out do yourself (and me also) a favor. lemme know if I missed any! MINORS DO NOT READ

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: my first ever fic posted on Tumblr, yippee! This is also my first ever smut so it probs be equivalent to horse poo but anyways, this also takes place in tasm 2. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else i'm gonna turn you into Vicky from Terrifier/srs

Peter didn't understand what was so special about you, you were just a crush. Or that's what he convinced himself. Every single place you were in, Peter would carefully trail behind you, like there was a magnet strapped onto you, and Peter was the metal, he would always find himself drawing next to you. Peter Parker was no stranger to keeping secrets. It was, after all, the epitome of his double life. A mask, a costume, a name that wasn't his at all. There was one secret, however, that even the Spider-Man's mask couldn't cover—his growing infatuation towards you.

It started out really simple. You decided to give back the nerdy boy's pencil in sophomore year and defended him from Flash Thompson in his junior year, it was all simple really, something a person with decency and was taught with proper manners would do. But Peter took it as more than that.

Candid photos here and there, purposefully falling of his skateboard so you would help him, cryptic notes in your locker, sometimes a random flower if Peter was lucky to find any.

Limerence, as some might say

The first people who would ever notice Peter's strange behavior where the people who raised him. Uncle Ben would notice this girl in the screen of his nephew's computer, so did Aunt May when she saw many polaroid photos of the same face underneath Peter's bed. Peter shrugged it off, saying the same exact words to the both of them.

'she's just a crush'

Peter Parker was very good at being hidden in the open. Sure, he didn't want to be invisible, but it is what it is. One of the self-working "losers" with horrible punchlines and pretty much the face screaming "nerd". Well, it didn't bother Peter much. He had many other more important things to think about. You

It's been years now. It was already the last year of senior year, graduation was already nearing, still, he hasn't mustered up the courage to do speak to you, afraid that you won't reciprocate the same feelings he has. His been watching you from a distance, stealing glances in class and making mental notes on all the little things you did, like doodling on the corners of your notebooks or, how you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating. He knew that it was weird, creepy even, but Peter couldn't stop himself.

So, when Mr. Warren announced a paired project for biology, Peter's internal monologue kicked into overdrive.

"Pair work begins today," Mr. Warren said, his smile a gruff overture that still Peter thought unnecessary. "Choose your partners wisely, just choose somebody you will along with. You can really screw up over this project if you don't!"

The room broke out into a low buzz as students shuffled their chairs and moved toward their friends. Peter didn't move. He never did. Choosing a partner was like finding a needle in a haystack type of task for him

Alright, Pete, it is not such a big deal. You are not going to end up with her or anything. Just relax, find someone cool, and—

"Peter!"

Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see you in front of his desk, clutching a notebook to your chest

"By any chance do you have a partner? My friends kind of made their own pairs" you asked, your lips curving into an easy smile.

Peter blinked. His brain short-circuited.

"N-nope. I'm totally solo. Flying solo. A lone wolf. A…"

"Awesome! Then let's team up."

Peter turned to you, his mind racing, he blinked, trying to absorb this. You were choosing him? He nodded frantically; his heart was hammering at a top speed that he was convinced you could hear it

You smiled at him, you fucking smiled at him

For the rest of the class Mr. Warren instructed everyone to plan for the project for the rest of the class. You kept bouncing ideas back and forth, and Peter felt a strange, thrilling sensation of in his heart. You were funny, clever, and surprisingly very easy to communicate with. Every time you laughed at one of his jokes, he felt like he was soaring.

When the bell rang, you packed your things and turned to him. "We should work on this at my place. Tomorrow after school?"

Peter nearly dropped his notebook. "Uh, yeah. Totally. I mean, yes. That works. Perfect. So super normal."

You laughed again. "Cool. Here's my address."

And with that, you scribbled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to him before walking away, leaving Peter frozen in his seat.

That night, Peter was sitting in his room staring at the address. To most people, that was just a little detail, probably not even worth a second thought. But to Peter, it was an invitation, or perhaps a key, even just for a second to get into your life. To know every little thing about you

Unfortunately, though, that's not enough.

He felt his hands shaking as he opened the drawer in his desk to reveal a small trove of hidden treasures; poorly taken pictures of you from a distance, bits of paper that you had thrown away during math class, and a small stash of hair strands that he meticulously collected from your hair comb when you weren't looking

This was love, wasn't it? The desperate consuming desire to be around her, to know everything about you.

And tomorrow, he shall get his chance.

You invited him, but Peter just knew it was really more than what you would ever willingly give.

His love was a web, and you were stepping into it, one delicate thread at a time.

Peter stood outside your house with a crumpled piece of paper clutched in his rather sweaty hand. The address on it was correct, but doubt clouded him. What if she had forgotten about this meeting? What if this was simply a joke? No, she would never do that, he tried to convince himself

Peter Parker was standing at your porch. Each thump of his heart sounded like one of the drums in the music club. He raised his hand to knock, hesitating for a moment. Maybe it was a terrible idea to come here after all; he could fake being sick, sending her an apology while rescheduling. Just then, the door swung open before he even had the chance to run.

"Hey, you found my house, I actually thought you would get lost cause I wrote the wrong color of the rooftop on the note" you said while stepping aside to let him enter.

"I was actually hesitant to knock, because it didn't look like the description" He quietly said. You actually got everything right, I was just being a huge pussy so I didn't come immediately, he thought to himself.

"Come in. I have started working on the diagram."

Peter plasted a grin and forced his legs down inside. "Well, look at you. Overachieving already. I guess I'll just sit back and let you do all the hard work."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, your voice making him feel that the world wasn't so bad after all. "Nice try, Parker. Grab a marker. You're on label duty."

"Come on, we can work in the dining area," you said, leading him across the house.

The dining table was already loaded with supplies, with textbooks scattered everywhere, colored pencils, sheets of poster paper, you name it. You positioned herself and gestured to him to join you.

You fell into a rhythm, your hand sketching the parts of the circulatory system while Peter scrawled out the labels in his neatest handwriting. He cracked jokes every few minutes, drawing out your laughter like a lifeline. It would be so easy to lose himself in the moment, pretend that you both were just two friends hanging out and not a guy hopelessly infatuated with someone who didn't even know half the truth about him.

Both of you had a relatively smooth first hour of working, few questions were asked here and there on the project. Peter kept his answers short, being extra cautious with what to share, but it seemed you did not mind. You sketched diagrams, jotting down notes with an ease that made Peter's hands tremble every time he made an attempt to help.

"So Peter," you suddenly announced after the silence, "why is it that you don't talk very much? At school I mean"

The question staggered him, rendering him blank while the colored pencil just hovered above the page.

Peter jerked up his head and looked surprised. "What do you mean? Talking is what I do. I mean, there's even people begging me to stop."

You smirked but didn't let it down. "I mean really, you're funny but I know nothing about you. What's your thing, Peter Parker?"

He didn't answer immediately but fiddled with the marker. "I'm just… some guy. Pretty boring, honestly. Not much to tell."

Your expression softened, "I don't buy that. You're not boring".

Your words made Peter's chest tighter. He wanted to believe you, yet the voice at the back of his mind reminded how wrong youwere. If you only knew the real him, the guy who had spent countless nights staring at your window, memorizing your every move, you wouldn't be smiling and sitting here before him.

"Hey, don't overthink it. You're cool. Let's just finish this masterpiece, okay?" you said, flicking his arm before he could answer.

Peter smiled forcedly

And when they finished the day's work, you walk him to the door once more, your smile as warm as ever.

"Thanks for coming over," you said. "You're actually a pretty decent partner, Parker."

"Decent?!" Peter gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Don't hold back; tell me how you really feel."

And you laughed, shaking your head. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Peter waved. You waved back at him, as he strolled down the street, but he did not go very far. Instead, he found himself across the street in the same place, hidden under the shadow of the oak tree.

you were in your living room again, curled around a blanket and a pillow as you watched whatever was on your screen, your face glowing softly from the light of the television. Peter leaned against the tree with both hands shoved in his jacket pockets and simply watched.

How long he'd been there, he couldn't tell, but he didn't want to leave. This was the closest he ever felt with you, even if you didn't know he was here.

He knew this was crossing the line, but he couldn't help himself. He found himself sneaking into your house. Now he really felt like a robber trying to intrude a home, expect he wasn't really going to steal anything, or so he thought.

It was late at night, you and your family were already asleep at this point

Peter knew that the right thing to do was to head home. He knew for sure that this crossed a line even he wasn't sure he could come back from. But before he could stop himself, he was moving, slipping across the street and into the shadows of your yard.

His palms were slick with sweat as he scanned the side of the house. The metal trellis leading up to your window wasn't very solid, but it would hold him if he was careful.

He carefully climbed the trellis, not putting too much weight on it. And his heart was pounding as he got to your window, his fingers brushing against the cool glass.

It wasn't locked.

At that moment, his body froze. The rational part of him screamed to stop, to climb back down and pretend this never happened. But then his hand was on the window. And that soft sound of it sliding open seemed to be deafeningly loud in the stillness of the night.

He slipped into his feet and landed silently on the carpeted floor. Your room smelled of lavender and something warm and sweet like vanilla. A little bit of moonlight filtered through the curtains and brightened the room in pale silver.

There she was

You laid curled up in your bed, the blankets pulled up to your shoulders, your face peaceful in sleep. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. You looked so serene, so utterly perfect, that it made his chest ache.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, just watching you. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to feel—satisfaction, maybe, or relief. But all he felt was a strange mix of awe and guilt.

This was wrong.

He knew it.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

He looked around your room, it was full of polaroids of either you or your friends.

He started walking around your room quietly, careful to not wake you up in your slumber, because God knows what will happen if you saw him in your room with all its glory, he couldn't even imagine the disgust on your face.

But one thing caught his eye

Your bathroom was open, and in your bathroom was a basket with what he assumed inside were dirty laundry.

He knew it was disgusting, heck, over the top creep award would probably go to him, but he found himself walking towards the bathroom. It was wrong, but he still did it, he needs to get help, he thought to himself.

One second ago he was walking towards your bathroom, next thing you knew he was rummaging through your dirty laundry, occasionally smelling some of your shirts. He cherished the way your scent overwhelmed his nose, he was in Cloud 9.

While he was rummaging, a little piece of clothing caught his eye. With shaky hands he picked up the piece of clothing, it was your pink underwear with little cherries scattered everywhere as design.

He brought it near to his nose. He suddenly sat down in the neat cold tiles of the bathroom floor, he smelt it as if it was his oxygen.

He let out a small moan. He didn't know if it was an invisible force making him do such things, but he found his hands unbuttoning his pants

Peter Parker sat in the rest room; hand clasped tight around the lacy edge of the pink panty. He took out his hardened length of his boxers. The scent of dirty panties wafted his nose.

He imagined you wrapped around his throbbing cock, he thought of the feeling of your tight little pussy riding his cock, he wanted the sweet nectar from your lips, while having a feast on your quivering hole. His cock throbbed in his palms, his hands were much faster now, stroking his hardened cock. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from moaning

Why was he doing this? You were literally there, outside the bathroom, sleeping. And Peter was here, out in the open, jerking off to the smell of your used panties

He was drenched in sweat as his hairs stuck to his wet forehead. He fantasized about your perky tits; perfect little nipples erect in anticipation. Pumping the shaft rapidly, imagining you on all fours begging for more, the bounce of your tits while riding him moaning his name like a mantra, Peter, fuck Peter, Peter, oh my God!

Peter was breathing heavily, his release was near, he profusely pumped his manhood, his hands and cock covered in his sticky pre-cum.

He wanted to feel you inside him, want you to quiver in pleasure as he fucks you over and over again.

He felt a sudden wave of pleasure hitting him, before he knew it, he released a flooded torrent of jizz into sticky cum as it scattered all over the floor. He slumped against the wall, heaving as he tried to steady his racing heart. He looked outside the door, finding you in the same spot as you were. You were sleeping oh so peacefully

He gazed at you, his heart full of unfulfilled yearning. He desperately wanted to be part of your world, to be someone you chose to let in. Yet no matter how many jokes he made or how close you seemed; he knew deep in his heart that he was not enough.

A soft sound broke the silence.

Peter's eyes snap to the bed, and his stomach lurch at the realization that you were stirring. Your brows knitted, your breathing started shifting, just as if you were going to wake up.

He immediately threw your panties back into the basket as he stood up and fixed his underwear and pants

He felt panic surging him, he immediately sprinted near the window. It made a loud a thud, now he was fucked

He moved quickly and quietly without thinking as he quietly ran towards the window. Just as you were about to opene your eyes, he slipped stealthily past the fluttering of curtains.

He tried scrambling down the trellis and found the ground, shivering and shaking as he did so.

He was hidden in a shadow corner, looking up towards your window. You were sitting up now, rubbing your eyes and looking around your room with a sleepy confusion.

Peter's chest tightened.

What's the matter with him?

He hurried as he turned away, his footsteps quiet against the pavement

The cool night air wrapped around Peter Parker like a cold, suffocating blanket as he walked back toward his house. Each step seemed to slant further and further as if his sneakers were scuffing wet against the cracked pavement in a slow and deliberate rhythm.

It was as if the world had gone still—entirely quiet. No cars were heard, no distant chatter, no hum of the city. Just Peter, the quiet whistle of wind through leaves, and the pounding thuds of his thoughts.

With that, he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, his fingers curling into tight fists. Replaying the scene, he heard the soft sound of your breathing, the warmth of your room, and the way you stirred in your bed as if you had felt him there.

What the heck are you doing, Parker? He hadn't intended to climb into your room. He hadn't intended for it to get this far. Watching from the shadows was one thing, but tonight… tonight he had crossed a line.

He stopped moving and leaned against the lamppost, his breath escaping him in short, sharp gasps. Above him, the light flickered, shining unevenly across his shadow on the ground.

"This isn't me," he whispered to himself, the voice trembling.

But wasn't it?

Hadn't he been staring at you for years, taking notes while you weren't looking, memorizing all of your movements, laughter, and smiles? He had told himself that it was just harmless admiration from a distance, but now it was clear.

What would you think if you knew?

He sighed, Peter threw back his head and gazed up at the sky. Above him the stars, though cold and distant, seemed on to him— judging him in silence.

With the words of Uncle Ben echoing in his mind, With great power comes great responsibility, Peter winced.

Peter's jaw clamped down. Not great power; not yet. But wasn't all this part of it? Taking responsibility for his actions, owning up to his mistakes before they spiraled uncontrollably out of hand?

It hit him like a gut punch.

He wouldn't ever be able to take it back. Nor would he ever be able to wipe away the fact that he'd violated your space, your privacy, in a way you might never forgive. But he could stop it from going any further. He could ensure that you never found out.

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

[mywritersmind]

CAT PARENTS - LN

pt.1

summary : A kitten is all it takes to get two strangers in the same bed for the night. Lando likes how she doesn’t know him, Olivia likes the cat that he’s trying to take from her.

warnings: just lando, olivia, and juna being cute!

word count : 1541

⋆ ˚‧｡⋆

“Oh my god!” I practically scream when I see the cat on the side of the road.

“Oh shit!” Someone grabs the cat before I can even get close. I look up to see who just stole this beautiful creature from me and am a bit taken aback.

He’s not too tall, but quite cute. He's got curly hair that’s cut into a baby mullet and a gray t-shirt that shows off his arms that are holding the kitten.

He blinks at me, making me realize I've been staring for probably too long, “That’s my cat.” I say quickly.

“Oh?” Fuck, he’s got an accent.

“You’re british?” I may have had a few drinks tonight, considering we are on the side of the road in Miami, the cat and the accent are throwing me off.

“You got that from one word?” He looks at me, confused, “Did you really bring your cat to go out and party in Miami?”

“I- No…” I glance back to see my friends who are still in line at the club, “But it’s the cat distribution system!” He laughs at me. LAUGHS.

What the fuck?

The cat snatcher sits on the curb, the cat pushing against him to get away. I sit next to him and snatch the cat right back. “She’s so cute!” I squeal as it stays still in my arms, meowing.

“Tell me more about this… cat distribution system.” I explain how people keep finding cats and it’s meant for them. He’s easy to convince, a good listener as well.

“Right then. I have to bring her home.” He sighs as if it’s a big issue.

“What? You mean I have to bring her home?” I hold the kitten closer to my chest, her light and dark brown fur brushing against me.

He frowns, “I found her first.”

I scoff, “She clearly likes me more. And I saw her first, you just got there quicker.”

He shakes his head, “Love, I still picked her up first.”

I furrow my brows, “Well, Love, You’re a random man and Juna and I don’t know you.” the kitten meows as if she agrees.

“Juna!? You can’t have already named her!”

“Ever heard of Clairo?”

“Okay- I’m Bob. What's your name?” He holds out his hand. I don’t take it.

“Bob?” I let out a laugh, “If you think I believe that, or would let you take Juna with that name, you’re on something.”

There’s something about the small smile he pulls that makes me feel weird and warm. He runs his hand through his hair, his ring catching the light, “My name is Lando.”

“Okay, Lando.” I roll my eyes, “Odd name but better than Bob. Why did you lie?”

His face scrunches up, “You honestly don’t know who I am?”

“Clearly not. If you’re that arrogant then I bet you’re not even known.” He smiles at this and stands up, offering me his hand.

I take it, standing and pulling down my black mini skirt as I do so. “She looks hungry.” My stomach growls at the exact time he says that. “So do you.”

I don’t know what to do. I’m staying with my friend this weekend and she is allergic to cats. I have no car and definitely not enough money to go buy things for a kitten. “Let’s go then.

I register that he’s speaking to me, “Excuse me?”

“If you won’t let me take her then we’ll have to go together.”

His words are what landed me in a pet store twenty minutes later.

I assured my friends that I would be okay and Lando made his friends prove he’s not some freak. His friends met mine and showed his instagram which made them agree way too quickly. He didn’t let me see it.

I gathered that he must be pretty famous or at least rich considering the McLaren we got into could not have been cheap. I saw him cringe when Juna had an accident in the front seat, yet he stayed quiet.

We’ve got Juna in a huge bed in the cart; food, treats, and toys surrounding her. “You never told me your name.” Lando pushes the cart down an abandoned isle, rightfully so since it is five minutes until closing.

We’ve been so busy that I honestly forgot I don’t actually know Lando.“Olivia.” I give in, “Liv, to my friends.”

“Alright Liv, are you from here?”

“Woah- we are not at friend status.” I shake my head, crossing my arms and shivering. I am still in platform boots, a mini skirt, and tube top. The few people working are shooting me dirty looks.

“Come on…” He frowns, leaning against the cart.

“Tell me your deal, then maybe I'll let you.”

“A fact for a nickname? I’m down.” He places the items, minus Juna, on the register. I explain my money situation but he doesn’t even think twice before he swipes his card. After we’re all back in the car he turns to me.

“I’m a driver.” He starts the car.

“Like a limo driver? Lando, you're not very good at this game.” Juna sleeps in my lap after she devoured a can of food and some water.

“A formula one driver…” He pulls out of the parking lot.

I know nothing about the sport except that it’s loved by my father and rich european people. “I don’t believe you.”

He eyes me and hands me my own phone that he’s carrying, “Lando Norris.” He says his last name.

“Quite the name you’ve got. Meant for fame, I fear.” He tries to hide his smile but he’s shit at it. I bite my lip and put my phone down, “I don’t want to look you up.”

“Why?”

“I want to learn about you, from you.” I shrug.

“Alright Liv…” He grins as he uses my nickname, “What do you do?”

I sigh and lean back in my seat, “I work in movies.”

“Really?”

I nod, “Yup. Mostly set design and some background stuff but one day I want to produce my own.” He listens intently, “So Lando… Why did you become an F1 driver?”

We go back and forth like this for thirty minutes until he pulls up to his hotel.

“Oh…” I look up at the fancy building, “You really want to bring a cat up there?”

He doesn’t say anything, just hands off his keys to the valet and grabs all the bags, leaving me with Juna. I’m amazed at everything we see, even the elevator is fancy with a big mirror that reminds me to wipe my under eyes that have mascara on them.

We walk to his room and as he opens the door for me my jaw drops, “Fuck, Norris.” I look around the huge room. It’s got a king sized bed, a bathroom with a tub and a shower, a couch, a huge TV, and the most beautiful view of the ocean.

“I won my first race here. Get a bit of special treatment.” he says like it’s the most casual thing ever.

He shuts the door and dumps everything onto the floor. We end up making a little space for Juna since we’re convinced we will lose her in this room.

Lando is in the bathroom when I text my friends about my night. They ask if he’s kissed me yet and I blush to myself, quickly explaining that it’s not that kind of night.

I’m laying on the floor, next to Juna when Lando walks back in, wearing only sweats. My eyes catch on his tanned and very fit body. “Forgot my jumper…” He says awkwardly, throwing on a blue dior hoodie as I look away and pretend to not have checked him out.

He lays on his stomach, petting the kitten's head and not meeting my eyes as he says, “If you wanna change, You could borrow some of my stuff.” I think I'm going to melt right there.

I check the time, “No… I really should go.” I sit up and he does with me.

“What?” he looks almost… sad? “You can’t leave Juna though.

“I know… But you can deal with a kitten alone.” I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave.

I don’t want to leave Juna.

I don’t want to leave Lando.

“Can I?” He raises a brow, “If you really want to go that’s fine. But… It’s late. And an Uber would be expensive. And it’s no trouble! Really you can take the bed.”

“Ok.” I say a bit too quick. His smile makes my heart skip a beat. Shit. Friends, Liv! Friends! Remember!? His adorable face and hilarious personality just comes as a bonus. “But you don’t have to sleep on the floor.” I laugh, “You can take the couch with Juna.”

He smiles and shakes his head, throwing a menu to me, “Order whatever, I can hear your stomach growling.”

-

note :

i love this story sm!! pt.2 coming soon!

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Are You Sure?! - Episode 7 Observations

9.5/10 ☆

Something clicked for me in the latest AYS?! episode. After years of following these two people and getting excited for any interaction or information regarding them, it was now perhaps the first time when watching them felt like not witnessing something special. Oh, I know how this sounds, but it's not what you think and I will explain.

When I say it didn't feel special I meant that nothing felt like a novelty. You know how shocked and excited we all became when Jimin called Jungkook during a birthday wlive? Or the collective metaphorical screaming on social media every time one would get close into the other one's space in some behind the scenes clip? That reaction for me was also a result of having to see that in a larger context in which jikook were not always the main focus.

Now with AYS?! and seven episodes in, I'm used to basically everything. The evening and morning routine, the soft talking, the flirting, the playfighting, the way they eat together. The nakedness and all the tattoos on display. I've developed a tolerance to it. And episode 7 really helped in cementing that. Yeah, they're half naked in a hot spring. Of course they are. They're brushing their teeth and do their morning skincare routine together. Of course they are. Jungkook buys the snacks and Jimin is in charge of feeding him. Of course. They laugh at the same things and everything is funny when they're together. Of course they do. They're playfighting again? Why would anyone be surprised at this point?

And I love that we got here. It's everything I wanted without ever thinking that it could be possible. It is extremely satisfying and fun to watch them. It has always been, but AYS?! was an open window into their lives together in a way that it hadn't happened before.

Sapporo is a special segment for many reasons. And as much as it's fun to see them have a good time, the impending military enlistment looms like a shadow over their trip. Jungkook is the one who seems intentional in talking about it in a way that makes light of the situation, while Jimin is more on the silent side.

But all this inevitably made me think of a downside. Because how am I suppose to go back to waiting for an aknowledged look while Jimin and Jungkook would sit at opposite ends in an interview setting? Or not doing a wlive together? Getting minimal interactions because there's 5 other people there? It would feel like something is not right. Jimin and Jungkook come in a package and they do everything together. They laugh and never get bored together. Jungkook cooks for Jimin while Jimin fills the exact needed space and purpose in that kitchen. Jimin can talk about learning to snowboard with Jungkook's friends and that conversation to remain between them and no one else. They can take showers together and then act like stupid boys in some endurance contest in the freezing water and it's their own thing and theirs only.

AYS?! Sapporo is bittersweet. For Jimin and Jungkook because as much fun they have, they know that their remaining time of freedom is getting to a close. Snow is beautiful there and they are together, but in a few weeks whatever sentiment that might evoke will be in the back of their minds when their reality will be completely different. That's why making those last minute memories together was so important. And they knew that and Jungkook felt the need to say it out loud. Like a constant reminder of how special those few days were.

And it's bittersweet for me too. While there's always the option of rewatching, who knows when such an opportunity (and privilege) will arise once again? Maybe never. Maybe AYS?! will be the first and last time to be able to take a peak through that window at their life...

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

9-1-1 Masterlist

Oh gee finally a place I can keep these! Thank you to my bestest most amazing friend in the whole world for making these headers for me i literally actually literally could not do it without you

Two of a kind

Buck can’t stop thinking about his coworker, so he does what every guy at 3am does on a 24 hour shift!! He sneaks out to his car to get off. But it turns out, certain coworkers (that might possibly be the love of his life) have the exact same idea!

Fairest of Them All:

The party downstairs rages on as Buck decides to do something about the pretty little thing he’s been staring at all night

Clothing Optional:

I can’t. I can’t keep writing summaries. I’ve done 2

After a stupid work shift, in the stupid heat, Buck just wants to enjoy a sweet little sundae, fortunately it comes with a side of dat ass (I’m not sorry)

That Should Be Me:

Buck has never ever been jealous ever a single damn day in his life

Gamer Girl

Buck thinks you’re so, so pretty. You’d looked even prettier with your thighs around his head

Now You See Me:

✨Mirror sex✨

Sleepy Hollow, 1999

Scream, 1996

The Exorcist, 1973

The Shining, 1990

Grease Lightning

The Polar Express, 2004

All The Rage

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Cootie Catcher

Growing Pains:

Everything is all wonderful and cool and dandy until you nearly die from your appendix!!

(I KNOW. THERE IS. AN AMBULANCE.)

Cry To Me:

Eddie loves when you’re crying during sex, nothing turns him on more… except when those tears are very very real and he’s very very worried

10 Things I Hate About You:

You guys freaking h a t e each other… or do you? Wink wink wink wink enemies to lovers wink

I Spy:

Eddie is the sweetest neighbor in the entire world… who knows where you work

Better Than Revenge:

You and Eddie get locked into a closet at your job after an accident, it also turns out your now EX boyfriend is a cheating asshole! Eddie has absolutely no problem filling in for the revenge role

Front Row:

Why do firehouses have to work f o r e v e r. Eddie needs a freaking shower and to pass out for the next six years on an overnight shift. It turns out someone has the same idea, and possibly another idea on how to left off some steam

Yeti Point:

Eddie finally takes you on that skiing vacation you’ve been begging him for and it’s going great! Until you get snowed in. But that’s okay, Eddie has a secret plan to keep you both warm

Slow and Steady:

Buck helps Eddie into the house, holding him up as you frantically get the bed ready for your injured boyfriend. Turns out, pain killers make Eddie horny!

(Hahahahahaha)

Encanto:

Dad!Eddie x Daughter!reader

Nightmares never get easier no matter how old you get. Especially ones where your father dies

Smoke Dector:

Eddie always has to be the hero, okay not really but it’s hard when you see your boyfriend running into a burning building for the first time

One Puff Or Two:

Take your freaking inhaler Eddie 🔪🔪🔪

Into The Fire:

(PTSD WARNING, PANIC ATTACK WARNING)

You’ve been on edge lately, and Eddie knows there’s something up. One night things come to a head when you have a nightmare about what happened and Eddie wakes up to a very bad situation

Night Changes:

Eddie comforts you after a bad nightmare about him dying over and over in different ways (based off of 5.14)

Busy Bees:

Two words ✨Sex Pollen✨

Soup or Salad?

✨I’ll freaking summarize this later✨

Sink or Swim

I Was Made For Lovin’ You

Halloween, 1978

It, 1990

Die Hard, 1988

The Easter Bunny

For All The Marbles

Adventures In Babysitting

P.S I Love You, 2007

Hitch, 2005

A Rose by any Other Name

This is one of the funniest titles I've ever made up. Buck finds your simple collection of toys and shows them to Eddie... and now they want you to put on a little show for them

Finish Line:

A little game of "whoever cums first loses"

Twice Bitten:

Double Penetration from my kinktober list!

Alexander Hamilton:

Buck can't stop having feelings for Eddie's girlfriend... but what if that's okay?

Captured, With Love

[knight-of-flowerss]

dad!trucker cregan would go crazy 😛😋

like…lets be real reader would be pregnant all of time with an army of his lil clones

OH MY GOD YES I WAS THINKING THE EXACT SAME THINGGGG 🙏🙏 THANK YOU ANON FOR THISSS

MDNI 18+!!!

Dad!Trucker!Cregan x Pregnant!Reader.

MASTERLIST

I got another ask like this but imma focus more on domestic Cregan in it but knowing him he's probs gonna say summin horny or do summin so 😭

Here is the other blurb

🛻•Trucker!Cregan 100%, absolutely loves to stuff you full of his kids, I mean, come on, have you seen the dude?

🛻•He hasn't even put a ring on it yet but you're already pregnant, seven months down.

🛻•I mean, can you even be surprised? He doesn't care. He's selfish. He never wanted to use condoms, hated them, he doesn't care what you think. He wants it raw, so you take it raw.

🛻•His favourite thing to do when you’re pregnant is making you ride him. Your libido is through the fucking roof as you're practically humping his thigh like a chihuahua.

🛻•Fucking evil. You're so whiny as you ride him nice and slow, his shit eating grin as he rests his large, calloused hands on your hips. Not moving you, just resting there. Letting you do all the fucking work.

🛻•But, kudos to Cregan because even though he gets more of a fucking prick at some points when you're pregnant (like making you ride him), he does give a lot more.

🛻•Whenever he drives you anywhere in his big truck, whether it's to get food or shopping for the baby, he loves to finger you in the passenger seat while he drives.

🛻•I mean, who is he to deny you when you want to fuck him 24/7? That's exactly what he wants to do to you.

🛻•Seeing you swollen, pregnant with his baby, it drives him fucking feral. Normally, he loved going on his long haul drives, it made you whiny and begging for more. He fucking lived for it. But when you're pregnant? You're horny all the time and he can't handle not being inside of you.

🛻•When he would get back after a few days? Fuck. You'd be all over him, he swears his cock is dry by the end of the night, he physically can't cum anymore. And even when he's on the road, you send him the most slutty and gorgeous pictures, even a video every now and then.

🛻•But ever since you got pregnant? You're both desperate, he literally makes you sit on FaceTime for most of his long drives, just watching you fuck yourself with the dildo he made.

🛻•A bit off topic, but Trucker!Cregan 100% made a mould of his cock to turn into a dildo for you. In his eyes, you're made for his cock and his cock only.

🛻•By the time he's been with for you a few years, you have four kids under four and pregnant again. It's as if he can't stand to see you empty.

🛻•Also, one thing he loves about you when you're pregnant is how sensitive your tits are. As I've said before, Trucker!Cregan is selfish. He would never give you pleasure unless he got something in return.

🛻•So he loved your sensitive tits 'cause whenever you get angry at him, he grabs your hips, albeit softer than when you're not pregnant, and pushes you against whatever surface is near.

🛻•"Who you think ya talkin' t'? Huh?" He'd growl into your ear as his hand moves up your jumper, grabbing your tit, milk seeping through the fabric before he tweaks your nipple softly. You're so sensitive that just his words were enough to make you a whimpering mess and with the added pleasure of his hand, you're gone.

🛻•And even though he loved getting you pregnant, the kids fucking annoy him most of the time. Not that he doesn't love them, but because he can't have a moments fucking peace with you.

🛻•He'll be balls deep inside of you, pillows stuffed behind the bed frame to muffle the banging from your kids. His hand grips your mouth, clasping down as he fucks you, getting lost in the moment before a scream rips through the air. You get concerned, trying to push Cregan off to check on your poor baby but he just pins your hips down and fucks you harder.

🛻•He tries to ignore it, he really does, but the moment a cry racks the house, his boner faded inside of you. Cockblock. He doesn't pull out because he's concerned for his kid, he pulls out because you beg him to. If it was him, he'd say 'fuck the kid' and keep on going until he got hard again. But hearing you telling him to get off and his kid sobbing at the door. Yeah. Major boner killer.

🛻•All Cregan wants to do is fuck you silly like the good little slut he knows that you are. No matter what, no matter how selfish he is, you'll always come back for more. Even if he's old enough to be your dad, even if he's gotten you pregnant more times than he's met your parents, you love him. Actually, you have like zero clue if it's actually love or just plain lust.

🛻•But one thing you do know? No matter how much he thinks you're his, no matter how much he thinks he wears the pants in your relationship, you know the truth. He's pussy whipped, you've got him wrapped around your finger, he would do literally anything to see your pussy.

🛻•Also, Dad!Trucker!Cregan one million percent fucks your face in the school parking lot while waiting for your two eldest kids at kindergarten. He knows it's perverted, but fuck, those pretty eyes, heavy tits, swollen belly? His dick immediately springs up, he can't help it.

I lowkey went all over the place with this one 😭 so it's a bit messy but Cregan is a horny messy guy, so, it makes sense.

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

[hoesandnuggs]

One Of Us - Leah Williamson x Reader

(Not my image)

Based on the song ‘One of Us’ by ABBA

———

Arsenal wasn't Arsenal without you.

Since 2006, when she arrived at Arsenal, still only a girl, she'd had you.

Even in 2014, when Leah had been promoted to the senior squad, you'd been right behind her. It was only right you made your debuts together, as best friends.

There had always been something more than friendship there. Being young, you'd both been to blind to see it, until Jordan Nobbs had made a pass at Leah at one of the famous Arsenal Halloween parties and you'd lost your head.

"I don't get what your mad about!" She'd chased after you once she'd seen you storm out. You'd argued on the way back to your shared apartment, about 10 minutes away from the house you'd been at.

"You really don't get it?! That I've been in love with you since before I even knew what love was. That it's always been you, that it always will be you. And I fucking missed my chance to tell you because I didn't want to ruin a 10 year friendship!" You shouted.

She didn't respond, only placed her lips onto yours and promised you that she felt the same way.

Life was good. Playing together, going home together, being together. It was all you'd even known, until one day it wasn't.

Whilst Leah broke through into regular minutes in the first team, you struggled immensely. You and Leah both played in the midfield, and with the senior players he already had in that position, he really didn't need two of the exact same player coming in. Leah's connection with the team landed her in favor, she'd always been the one to make friends on behalf of the both of you, and in this case your quietness had been the reason for your downfall.

As a result, Pedro frequently criticized your playing style, and began not even listing you as a substitute.

You felt your world falling apart, Arsenal was all you had even known, Leah was all you'd ever known, but you knew you were better than a reserve player.

He called you into his office after a particular good training session, but had quickly ruined your mood.

"I only need one player, between you and Leah, you need to fight and prove to me why it should be you. The January window is fast approaching, don't let it be you I sell."

You arrived home in despair. Leah was quick to comfort you, asking what was wrong, but you were in no state to tell her about the conversation you'd just had.

She held you that evening, lips brushing over your cheeks as she whispered sweet nothings over and over again.

And so I dealt you the blow

One of us had to go

Leah's expression was unreadable at breakfast. The revelation of your conversation with Pedro had hit her. She enjoyed her life, playing for her childhood club, whilst also being with the love of her life every day. She didn't want things to change.

That week she'd been quiet at home, and distant at practice. Everyone else had noticed the shift in dynamic between the two of you too, eyes watching both of you.

By Friday you'd had enough, entering Pedro's office after training to tell him that you'd be looking for a new club in January, and that you'd made his decision easier.

To say Leah was upset was an understatement.

"Why wouldn't you talk to me before making a decision like that! This isn't just about you, this is about our future too!" She yelled.

"I did this for you! So you didn't have to leave the club you care about most! I don't want you to resent me for being the reason you leave."

"No instead I resent you for leaving me!" She screamed.

Now it's different, I want you to know

She could never resent you, not really. Even though she might have hated you in the moment, the minute your stuff was out the door and you were gone, she regretted every word she said.

You hated the way you left, the veil of darkness that cloaked every corner of your house in awkward tension. Leah barely spoke a word, watching as you gradually packed up your things. She knew she couldn't be in the house when you left for good.

Leaving your key on the table you walked away. And when Leah came home to find it, she knew it was the end of everything.

One of us is crying, one of us is lying

In a lonely bed

Staring at the ceiling

Wishing she was somewhere else instead

6 months was not enough time for Leah to get over you. She put on a front for her teammates, acting like it didn't hurt to partner up with Jordan for passing drills, or seeing the new signing with your number on her back.

Your cubby hadn't stayed empty for long either, a reshuffle in the locker room had meant the new signing sat where you used to. Leah couldn't even look over there, the fact that your eyes wouldn't be looking back at her in reassurance.

For a while Leah couldn't go home. It felt empty without the little bits of you. Leah hated the way you'd leave your keys on the counter instead of on the hook by the door, but now she wished she was able to complain as she put them on the hook herself.

After a while, your pillow stopped smelling like you too. Before she'd cry into it, the smell soothing her into a false sense of security, one in which she could pretend she was in your arms.

Instead, she was alone. The bed seemed bigger without you. She was just a body. Staring at the ceiling as she wiped her tears, wishing she was wherever you were, next to you.

One of us is lonely, one of us is only

Waiting for a call

Sorry for herself, feeling stupid, feeling small

Wishing she had never left at all

The move was tough. You'd moved out of the country, to a club where you couldn't speak the native tongue. It was hard fitting in, making friends. You'd never been good at it, not really. All your friends had been Leah's, she was always the one who introduced you to new people, knowing just how shy you were around everyone other than her.

Maybe Leah was right, maybe you should've stayed, figured something out together. Your solution had left you feeling more alone than ever, going home to your own pity party after practice.

You were stupid to think Leah would call, but still you sat by the phone hoping that every notification that pinged would be one from her.

They way you left should've been the first sign, you knew it was over, you knew she was done. But still you hopelessly pined over her, hoping she missed you just as much as you missed her.

You shouldn't have left. You shouldn't have left her

[mania-sama]

A Look into Mental Health: Jujutsu Kaisen Analysis

"Being a child is not a sin." (Nanami Kento, Jujutsu Kaisen)

With the release of Chapter 251, I've seen many horrible takes from dudebros saying that Megumi has "sold" the team. This makes me unreasonably angry because of course it does, so obviously my next plan of action is to take all of my hour-long rants about the mental health of JJK characters and put it here, where said dudebros will never see my (correct) analysis in their entire life. Oh well.

One thing Gege is really, really good at is creating believable, undeniably human, and complex characters. Every character has a different set of motivations, beliefs, ideals, and especially mental states. The constant theme of Jujutsu Kiasen has been "Strength vs Weakness". While the clearest interpretation can be seen through the physical attributes of the characters (Gojo being the strongest sorcerer of his time due to his abilities, and Miwa being one of the weakest, again, due to her abilities), it is also directly applied to the mental strength of characters. No two characters are able to withstand the same trauma and come out the exact same, just as no two real people can process the same trauma. Not only is it a result of nature, as people are genetically different and therefore process information differently, but a product of nurture - in other words, character motivation and environment.

This is where we come to the current state of the manga, Chapter 251. The fated Yuuji vs Megumi debate. I keep seeing people wildly misunderstanding these two, and why it's so important that Megumi isn't standing up to fight, why he isn't able to handle his trauma, when Yuuji can.

Gege writes phenomenal characters. And I want to express just how well done they are, making Jujutsu Kaisen actually kind of deserve its popularity, because some people only care about power scaling. I'm going to touch on Megumi last, because understanding all of the other characters' makes his visible struggle that much more impactful.

1. Geto Suguru

I want to start this mental health analysis with Geto. He is the best representation of depression I've ever seen in Shonen. It doesn't take a hundred chapters to showcase a character's downfall. It doesn't take a hundred significant events to cause a character to break down. Gege shows the best, realistic mental breakdown using only a handful of chapters, and still makes it slow and painful.

Depression can start because of a big event, but it doesn't take more for it to worsen. Untreated, depression runs a vicious course that eats a person through slowly but effectively. It isn't one screaming session, hands clutched over the head and cursing God and the world. It's everything piled onto each other. It's coming to the end of that pile and realizing that nothing will ever change.

This is Geto Suguru's story. He has a big event: the fight with Toji and the failure to save Riko. But his mental health journey was fated to decline, even without the fight and failure. The root issue of his depression came from his ability: Cursed Spirit Manipulation. As long as he kept devouring the embodiment of every vile, human emotion, the more he would lose himself to that vileness. He wasn't changing anything; he couldn't help but continue to swim in negativity because that's all he could do.

Gege wasn't making a commentary on Geto's ability. He was talking about people, as they are, and how staying in a bad situation will not always make you stronger. It can, and most likely will, make you worse. A direct comparison to the sixteen-year-old Geto would be a sixteen-year-old at school, surrounded by people who bully and pick on them with harsh words. The kid will eventually consume all of that bullying, all of that negativity, into their being, because there is simply nowhere else to go. School is mandatory; they can't just leave. They eventually feel isolated, with all that vileness piled on. Even if they have friends, those people could never understand what it's like to put up with humiliation and cruelty day after day.

It's not rational to push away a support system, but who said human beings are always rational? People make mistakes. They don't make the right decisions. Geto didn't. He saw someone offer him a chance at change, a possible light at the top of his pile and twisted it to match his overwhelming negativity. He left and swore to destroy the world that made him the way he is, just as that bullied child may turn away from school and society in whatever form that may take.

I want to touch on the physical aspects of Geto's depression, too. I noted this in a previous analysis I did on him (his character is just that amazing, what can I say?), but Gege knew that the mind can't be affected alone. Geto was drawn with deep eyebags, a nod to an inability to sleep or needing to sleep all the time. Depression makes you tired all the time. Everything becomes difficult. He sits with his back hunched, resting his weight on his knees, like sitting upright is too hard. When someone speaks to him, he blinks and takes a second too long to look over or respond, like speaking takes too much energy. To me, it even looked like he was becoming thinner. It's extremely difficult to maintain a schedule of exercise and mealtimes when your mind is fighting an active war against itself.

Again, a beautiful representation of depression. Geto means a lot to me in this aspect.

2. Gojo Satoru

In comparison to Geto, Gojo's horrible mental health is a lot subtler. Depression isn't the correct term, but you don't have to be depressed to be sad. Sadness is his stagnant state; he has moments of bliss, goals to work towards, a reason to keep going, to continue living, to continue chasing the sun over the horizon, but he does return to the same place he is always at when the lights turn off and he's painfully reminded of this one fact: he is isolated.

All of Gojo's problems start and end with isolation. From the moment he was born, everyone knew he was different. He knew he was different. Through glimpses of his childhood and honestly reading between the lines, it's obvious he never played with kids his age. People don't just develop a superiority complex with their only drive to be better than literally everyone else for no other reason than to get better. It comes from somewhere, and in Gojo's case, it's from his young childhood. It seriously messed him up; even now, he can't shake the lesson that "Strength is the only way to success and happiness".

This is what made Geto so important. Geto was somebody who could share the burden of being the strongest. Geto was someone his age who understood him in a way Shoko could not, though they both were able to see Gojo beyond his capabilities as a Jujutsu sorcerer. Gojo then had somebody to base his moral principles on. Because he couldn't connect with anybody else, he had no basis other than strength. Geto taught him why it was important for the strong to protect the weak.

Then everything went wrong. Gojo became isolated again in his strength and lost the only person who could plausibly stand with him. "Are you the strongest because you're Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because you're the strongest?" Gojo was young, then, and fresh-faced into his newfound godhood. He didn't kill Geto in that moment because he wanted to deny the claim that he is nothing without his strength, that he isn't as shallow as he was raised to be.

But he knew better. He grew older, he killed his best friend, and he realized that he was nothing without his strength. He never got over Geto. In order to cope with the guilt of being unable to save him when he left, he adopted a whole kid, thinking that if he wasn't strong enough to save Geto, maybe he could save Megumi. But there it is all over again - he never broke from the cycle of strength defining his worth. Saving Megumi would define his strength, right? It would prove Geto wrong, right? He raised Megumi under the same logic (that the only way to save his sister is to be strong), only ridding the boy of the crushing isolation.

In this way, Gojo isn't mentally weak. He didn't abandon society and everyone who loved him, instead choosing to hone the trauma of his isolated childhood into a weapon and teach the next generation to be better than himself. He isn't depressed, but he isn't happy. You can't be happy if you're alone all of the time. He hoped Megumi could be someone to stand by him, but in the end, he failed to save Megumi. His strength couldn't save him, just as it couldn't save Geto.

He isn't mentally strong. He isn't weak, either. He is horribly, painfully average. He's not weak enough to be saved, but not strong enough to save others. His childhood plagues him, but not to the point where it prevents him from living. He killed Geto but was unable to bury the body. Gojo is everything he never wanted to be.

As it turns out, strength can't buy you happiness. Gojo may have understood that, but he couldn't abandon it, even to the bitter end. Just as a human struggles to shed their conditioning. Not everyone can break the cycle, but we are always trying our best to work with what we've been dealt.

3. Okkotsu Yuuta

I'm putting Yuuta in between Gojo & Geto and Itadori & Megumi because he is, in a way, a bridge between the two. Geto and Gojo have lived their lives; their stories are complete and ended in tragedy. Itadori and Megumi's are not. They are still actively struggling and fighting their physical and mental battles; their stories have yet to be completed.

Yuuta's story isn't technically completed (ignoring everything that happened in the recent chapter with him for the sake of MY mental health), he is still a success story. He is the average protagonist who started from the bottom and ended up at the top. Only he, as Gege has done time and time again, has a slightly stronger focus on mental health than most other Shonen. He is success where Gojo & Geto failed, and the success that Itadori & Megumi are narratively striving for.

At the beginning, Yuuta was depressed and suicidal. He was bullied at school and involuntarily hurting others. Instead of becoming resentful of the world, he pushed all of the vileness inward. His guilt caused him to try to take his life, presumably multiple times, but Rika stopped him before he could succeed. His life was effectively out of his hands; he felt powerless with all of the bodies stacking around him, and he couldn't atone for "his" actions.

His mental health, as it was, was in shambles. Gojo then offered him a way forward. Yuuta's mental health did not improve overnight. It was when he made friends at Jujutsu High, and developed a support system, that he was able to relieve his anxiety and realize that life is not so bad after all. That all of this pain and suffering and loss - it will pass.

The most important thing to acknowledge when it comes to Yuuta is the sheer fact that he was not alone, nor did he allow himself to be alone. Unlike Gojo, who still had Shoko and Nanami after Geto left but refused to connect with them, Yuuta allowed himself to get close to those around him. They didn't know the suffering he'd undergone for so many years. They didn't know what it was like to be him, but that was okay. He knew that they had empathy, that even though they could never experience his life, they could still be there for him now when he falls.

When given the opportunity to surrender, Yuuta stands in the face of one Geto Suguru and swears to protect his friends and fight with Rika. He's so far removed from the boy who tried to kill himself at the beginning of the manga, and that's because he let himself be changed. He did not succumb. He had friends, he knew. People that would miss him if he left, and people whom he would regret leaving.

This stays consistent with his character. He doesn't let himself become isolated in his strength or his experiences. He's much stronger than everyone else in the room, he's a special grade and he knows that, but he still treats everyone like they are equals. Like they are his friends, like they are people who could share this burden of existence with him. This is something that Gojo couldn't accomplish, which lends to the fact that Gojo had a very off-hand teaching method when it came to mentoring Yuuta. Instead of influencing him under this idea of strength conquers all, he let Yuuta develop far away from the ideals of the Japanese Jujutsu Society.

And, in the end, the fact of him being physically strong - a special-grade sorcerer from the get-go - never helped him in his mental health. In fact, it made him miserable until he learned to get a handle on Rika. His winning or losing that fight with Geto wasn't the point of his character, it was reckoning with the fact that he is okay now. That he can embrace the ugly part of him with dignity instead of guilt.

4. Itadori Yuuji

Itadori's entire character is that he has an unbreakable spirit. As the only one who can bear the soul of Sukuna, he started off like Yuuta, only on the opposite end of the mental health spectrum. When we first see him, he's happy, spending his afternoons with the Occult Club and watching movies.

... What happened?

Like Geto, everything piled on very slowly. So slow that I'm not even sure he felt the true effects of everything he experienced up until the fall of Shibuya. It starts with the death of grandfather, whose parting words "Just save as many people as you can" haunt him even now during the final fight with Sukuna. He was never given time to properly grieve his grandfather, just as he never had time to grieve the brother curses, Junpei, Nanami, Nobara, Gojo, Higurama. At the end of it all, when the fighting is over, I have to wonder what will become of the boy that realizes he's lost most of the people he loved.

The one time he did try to process it, when he realized that he couldn't control Sukuna, was when he broke down in Shibuya. Sukuna leveled an entire city. For the boy who never wanted to kill another human being for fear of devaluing life, the weight of his weakness killing thousands was crushing. Then Nanami died. Nobara died (still hanging onto that unknown status but I digress). Both are right in front of him, and powerless to prevent Mahito from disintegrating their bodies. So, obviously, Itadori broke down. The boy with the unshakeable spirit, the only person who could contain the King of Curses, has his psyche completely shattered.

He laid on the ground, and he wouldn't have gotten back up if there wasn't somebody to help him, to be there with him. Todo pulled him back together, stitched back up the broken into somebody who has allies and people to fight for. Itadori has the success that Yuuta had, only Itadori did not come out of it with better mental health.

After the breakdown, his unshakeable spirit was nothing more than the will to keep fighting. He cares little for himself, and he tries to distance himself from people to prevent them from dying from his cursed hands. He is jumping, quickly, down the same rabbit hole that Geto fell down. One big event, and they realize just how tall the pile already is, and that it will never stop growing. Unlike Geto, however, he continues to get overbearing support from those around him. Against his will. He can't push them away, for they refuse to leave his side. Yuuta, Choso, Megumi, even Higurama. They won't let him fall. This makes him better off than someone alone, in a sense. He can withstand his trauma when others may not.

Even so, even so, there is only so much support, the lack of self-isolation, can do when the traumas keep actively repeating. When he says that he will gladly die to defeat Sukuna, it is not said with the same tone that another Shonen protagonist would say it. Take Naruto for example. If he were to go into a battle to protect, say, Sasuke, he would scream, "I'll die to protect him." We understand that his willpower is stronger than his self-preservation, but we don't get the idea that he actively wants to die. He'll die if he has to. Now, Itadori says the same thing, but about saving Megumi. He says, "I'll gladly die." There is something different. His willpower is leaps and bounds stronger than his self-preservation, but that's not only it. There is an undercurrent of severe suicidal ideation prevalent in Itadori's tone. It's not that he will die to win, it's that a part of him wants for this to be his final fight. For it all to be over. To save Megumi, then atone for the sin of being too weak to save Shibuya, or being unable to stop the Culling Games, or letting Megumi get hurt when all he wanted was to keep him safe.

I'd call it more along the lines of passive suicidal ideation. He doesn't plan to kill himself, but what would it mean for him to go into dangerous situations without protection? What would it mean for him to succumb to his wounds after he wakes Megumi's soul and kills Sukuna? To not even try to seek medical attention? He's guilty. He believes everything that happened in Shibuya and after is his fault. When faced with the executioner's sword, he was ready to die for his sins, if not for the goal of ending the Games. There is a fine line between willing to die for those you love versus wanting to die for those you love.

Right now, Itadori is fighting to save one person, like his grandfather said. He is not fighting to survive. And that's what people fail to understand about Itadori when they compare him to the other members of the cast. These power-scaling dudebros don't understand that their favorite OP main character has fallen apart at the seams, that his unshakeable spirit to save people doesn't include himself.

5. Fushiguro Megumi

Here we finally come to the question: Why can Itadori take it when Megumi can't? There is a very similar quote that you probably think of whenever you hear this question asked. It's from The Outsiders: "Dally is tougher than I am. Why can I take it when Dally can't?" The answer to this question that Ponyboy gives is the same we can attribute to Megumi. "And then I knew. Johnny was the only thing Dally loved. And now Johnny was gone."

The entire reason Megumi became a Jujutsu sorcerer was to protect his sister. When he was five years old and probably too young to understand most of the words Gojo said, he accepted the offer of training to become a sorcerer in exchange for Tsumiki's happiness. Every day, he fought to protect her. He only had one goal in entering the Culling Games: to prevent Tsumiki from having to participate.

It's easy to attribute Megumi's constant attempts at summoning Mahoraga to a lack of will to live - suicidal ideation, the same that Itadori now experiences. On one hand, I do understand that he has a fundamental lack of care for his own life, but on the other, I don't think that he intends to throw it all away every single time. He just didn't know any better. Ignorance can lead to death as easily as intentionally seeking it out. That's why he changes his habit after Gojo gives him a lesson in risking death versus dying to win; Megumi still has someone to live for, after all.

Megumi's mental health was already rocky from the start. Not that it was in shambles like Yuuta, but he wasn't fully stable. Like a lot of teenagers, he's moody, somewhat reclusive, and only really likes one or two people maximum. Teenagers aren't known for their sunshine mental health anyway.

Megumi was given time to grieve Itadori after he first died. This trauma of losing him in front of his eyes stuck with him, but he was allowed a grace period of two months to grieve with Nobara. He experienced Shibuya, too, but he still had that one important person to protect. His mental health was alright at this point, all things considered. As long as his sister was alive, he would be fine.

Sukuna knew this. So Sukuna killed Tsumiki using only the Ten Shadows Teqchnique. The one person Megumi spent his whole life dedicated to, was killed by his own cursed technique, his own failure to suppress Sukuna.

In the void of his soul, Megumi was alone. Truly, utterly alone. The only person nearby was Sukuna, the murderer of his sister, the murderer of thousands upon thousands of people. He drowned in the ceremonial bath of crushed curses to hold his soul down in the depths of despair, literally drenched in all of the vileness the world has to offer. Sukuna killed Gojo using Mahoraga's adaption ability, and before that, Megumi was forced to take several of Gojo's mind-altering domain expansions.

Already, he had given up. He gave up when his sister died, but the rest ground a pointed spur into his neck. When Itadori shakes his soul, Megumi is repeating, "That's enough." He was at the end of his rope a long time ago. What more is there to keep living for? He doesn't want to live with the blood of his sister, the blood of the man who practically raised him, and the blood of countless others drenching his hands.

Sukuna killed all of these people, not Megumi. But then, Sukuna killed of those people in Shibuya, not Itadori. Why can Itadori take it? Why can he keep fighting when Megumi lays broken on the ground? Itadori wasn't alone. And Megumi has never been known for his unshakeable spirit. That is the one thing that Itadori can hold over everybody else, the one trait that everyone admires. He was born to shoulder the burden of the world. Megumi wasn't. Megumi wants to die. He is not passively suicidal, for he has no goals left to complete, a plan to die within the body no longer inhabited alone. He is suicidal. He would drive a stake through his heart if it meant relieving his pain. He doesn't want to do it anymore. He's had enough.

And Itadori was in this position once, too? Perhaps not as directly, but he was there. Here is the moment that the protagonist gives the motivating speech to will someone to keep fighting, that life is worth living. I realized today that this is not something Itadori has done yet. He hasn't had a grand speech that's not been about his own willpower. He's never encouraged someone else to keep living in the way that you would expect from the main character. This is his moment, I suppose. He needs to be the person for Megumi that Todo was for him. He has to show Megumi that he isn't alone.

He needs to save Megumi when, all those years ago, Gojo couldn't save Geto.

I don't think some of this fanbase understands how horrible Gege has to be at writing if he just. Let Megumi get up to fight in Chapter 251. All this time, he has shown how Megumi has been defeated. He showed him crumbled on the ground, unmoving. It shouldn't be a surprise that all of the measures Sukuna took to ensnare Megumi's soul worked. Megumi is suicidal after the people he loves have all died because of his technique. God forbid a sixteen-year-old is unable to cope with his trauma alone.

Honorable Mentions:

There are a lot more characters in this story that represent/show mental illness that I didn't go into depth on but are worth mentioning. It was easier to only talk about the major characters since we spend so much time with them and I can fully flesh out everything that should/can be said about them. Anyway, here are a few more that are notably well-written in their mental struggles:

Yoshino Junpei. His story arc follows very similarly to Geto, except he is the bullied student I was making a reference to. Depressed, alone with a mother whose habits he can't stand, he turned to someone he thought could provide him a better life. Interestingly, he is a good representation of the type of children that tend to be groomed. That's surely what happened to him. Mahito used him, then discarded him for his own gains.

Ieiri Shoko. Her main struggle can be seen through her smoking habits. She's been through a lot, lost so many people, and has to keep healing sorcerers only for them to die. Eventually, she was able to come to terms with this. She kicked her smoking habit at the same time she kicked the vicious mental cycle of caring too much about the patient on her table. It's no wonder she picked up a cigarette, for the first time in a while, when Geto led the phantom parade.

Zenin Maki. She works as a very good contrast to Megumi. They both lost their sisters, the people they loved the most, but she turned all of her grief to killing the Zenin clan and gaining Heavenly Restriction. But this, this is because she could do so. There is simply nothing Megumi can do as a soul trapped in his own body. Her grief made her stronger, while for most, it made them weaker.

Inumaki Toge. He isn't seen a lot, but his story is ultimately quite compelling. A boy who hurt many when he was young. He turned his guilt into kindness, a will to protect. He tends a garden to raise plants healthily, for God's sake. He's one of the examples that shows Yuuta that your past actions don't define you, but instead, what you choose to do going forward.

I am not proofreading any of this before I post it. Sorry if it is borderline unreadable with spelling / grammatical errors.

[rickssugarplum]

The Rick is Over

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 7x05! Watch it first before reading this! Thanks and enjoy! ❤

(Rick Sanchez x Reader) Spoilers for 7x05, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

You help Rick process it all.

With the pull of the lever, all the lights in the sub-basement go out, finalizing the end of the decades-long show that's been ongoing most of his life.

It's all finally over.

Rick Prime is dead.

Still coated head to toe in blood, Rick stands in the darkness in the now useless lair, where he'd spent countless days and nights searching, tracking, and looking for any signs of his lifelong enemy. The one who caused him all his pain, destroyed all of his dreams he had when he was young. All he ever wanted, was to live as a husband and father to the two most precious girls in his life.

That life had been ripped away from him so many years ago.

Now, he has killed the man who was responsible. His ultimate goal had been achieved.

So, why does he still feel so empty?

He didn't say a word while flying back home. The voice of his grandson right beside him felt like miles away. It was as if his entire world had gone mute. He could not just go to sleep in his room. Not tonight.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

You were in your living room, reading a book in complete silence, until it was broken by the familiar whirling sound of the portal. You were clearly expecting Rick to emerge from it, but you nearly screamed when you saw him soaked in crimson blood.

"Oh my God! Rick?!!" you shrieked as you stepped towards him. He stood there, emotionless.

"Rick! What the fuck happened!? You look like you came through a slaughter!"

The old man just looked at you; still silent. It caused even more panic in your veins.

"Rick, please. You're scaring me! What is going on!? Say something!" you begged. He was never one to be quiet, even more alarming when he's drenched in blood. Did an adventure go awry or...

"W-where's Morty!? Is he okay?" You asked in fear that something might have happened to him. Your heart rate slightly lowered when he nodded, assuring his grandson was alright.

Looking more closely at him, you saw more damage inflicted on his face. "Jesus Christ, Rick. Your nose is broken!"

Rick finally spoke in a hoarse but defiant voice. "I got him."

His bloodshot eyes stared directly into yours. You saw the anger he's shown in them only when he's described his past, his stolen life; his darkest demons.

Immediately, you knew who he was talking about.

"You-you got...him?" You couldn't speak the name, despite sharing it with the man in front of you. Rick simply nodded again. Not knowing what exactly happened, the blood covering him made one thing clear.

Rick had finally killed his enemy.

Slowly, you took his hands, searching in his eyes for any ounce of how he was feeling, knowing he had avenged his wife and daughter.

"Are-are you okay?"

Morty had asked him that exact same question after it was all said and done. He said that he was. But now seeing the concern in your face and repeating his grandson's words just mere hours before caused the final crack in the dam.

Suddenly you felt two long arms around you, grasping your frame tightly, and Rick let out the loudest, broken wail you'd ever hear. His anguish was bigger than his body, causing him to collapse, dragging you both to your floor. You simply held him as he cried into you, letting out decades of repressed grief and trauma that'd haunted him.

"Shhhh... It's okay, Rick..." you murmured, placing his head on your chest and stroking his slightly damp hair. "It's over..." you whispered. "I'm here... I've got you..."

The man was trembling like a newborn fawn. He looked so fragile. You couldn't possibly know exactly what was going through his tormented mind as he screamed into your chest. His cries sounded so animalistic, it almost scared you. But your heart was breaking hearing him suffer inside. He had cried for the life he lost, his wife he had promised forever to, and his little girl, whom he swore to protect. All Rick wanted was to have his beloved Diane by his side and to see his baby Beth grow up. He wanted them to grow old together. All of his plans. His dreams. Their future, will never come.

Tears welled up in your own eyes, but you stayed and gently rocked him, whispering words of comfort.

"It's alright, baby," you said softly.

Baby. Diane used to call him that. He let out another sob at that memory. Leaning down, you press soft kisses on his forehead.

"I'm so proud of you, Rick..." you confessed. It was the truth. You wanted him to know that. How lucky you were to have the most passionate Rick throughout infinity. He squeezed you a bit tighter at your affirmation.

Time didn't matter to either of you. You could hold him forever if he needed it. That would be how long it would take to heal this broken heart.

After awhile, his sobs started to fade into soft weeping.

"Rick? Can you look at me?" You asked softly. There was no command in your voice. It was mainly to make sure he knew his surroundings. Slowly, he lifts his head up to look at you. The blood of his enemy was slightly rinsed underneath his eyes from tears. You cupped his face in your hands so tenderly, giving him a faint smile.

"You did it."

Rick's expression had become nearly blank. After all the crying, he almost felt numb. "What do you need right now?" you asked him, stroking his cheek.

He wrapped his arms around you again. This time, not in desperation, but in comfort and gratitude. In his hold, he simply whispered,

"Just you..."

It relieved you to hear his answer. You both stayed in your embrace, with no plans on letting each other go. Rick could feel a slight relief as you assured him you were not going anywhere. He closed his eyes and let everything sink in. Through all the changes he's made, he's achieved the biggest change of all. The hunt for his nemesis was over.

So.

What now?

He's going to find out.

❤

[c0la-queen]

All We Need (Is Each Other) | Eddsworld Roommates x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: Minor violence, alcohol mentions, I know nothing about British life

Word Count: 1.3K

---

You sighed at the feeling of water soaking into the back of your collar. No matter how many times you towel dried your hair after a shower, it still got your shirts wet. The house was fairly quiet, being so empty. The hallway lights were off, and the living room was illuminated by only the TV. You passed through to the kitchen to grab a drink, but paused.

A figure sat on the end of the couch, curled up against the armrest. His hood was pulled over his head, the red material fighting the electronic blue light. His face was turned to the television, but one glance at the mindless infomercial could tell you that he wasn't paying attention. You walked over and leaned on the back of the couch. He didn't notice, which was very uncharacteristic.

"Tord?"

The mention on his name shot his focus to you. He looked startled.

"I didn't realize anyone else was home."

"Clearly. Are you okay?"

His lips pressed together into a flat line. The message was clear. He didn't want to talk about it. A moment of tense silence passed by. One minute, then two.

"Do you want to help me bake?"

"What?"

You pointed back at the bright lights of the kitchen.

"I've got some cupcake mix that I planned to use Sunday. But I think this is a better occasion."

Tord rolled his eyes, as if the mere idea of him baking was the most ridiculous thing ever. Still, he got to his feet and followed you.

---

Edd pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to slam his head into the steering wheel of his car. He had taken a short trip to the grocery store. Literally only twenty minutes to grab some drinks.

Somehow, in those twenty minutes, his friends had managed to start another argument. He watched his notifications exploded with the ring of Discord messages. Usually he was the first to mediate these fights, as was his responsibility as owner of the server. This time, he didn't even have the energy to see what it was about. Instead he sat in the near empty parking lot. He probably looked like a creep, staring at his phone with the car still off.

How were these the same people he met all those years ago? It seemed like the ones he had befriended at that convention were total strangers compared to the pixelated usernames flooding his screen. At the beginning, he loved having online friends. They were fresh faces, people he shared common interests with. That magic faded over time.

At the sight of a DM from one of the friends, he shut his phone off. He threw it in the passenger seat and fumbled for his keys. It was time for a break from them. He'd let them know when he got home.

---

The noise was getting to be too much. Tom gripped his glass tighter. Behind him, two girls that were his "friends" screamed at each other. Everyone else in their group gathered around, either trying to extinguish the flames or build them higher. He sat with a bored indifference. This exact argument had been played out countless times before. The same people, different people, more people, it all ended the same way; a fight, a night in jail, and an ended relationship.

Right on cue, the sound of a slap rang out. More shouting accompanied, more impacts after that. What was it this time? Oh yeah, Blonde Girl #1 slept with Brunette Girl #3's boyfriend. What they didn't know is that Brunette #2 slept with him, too.

He tipped back his glass, downing the rest of his drink. The clear liquid burned as it went down, similar to the string of the slap in the argument. Still silent, he handed his money to the bartender.

As he meandered to the door, he put his hands in his pants pockets. The bartender got involved now, his ringing voice muffled by the closing door. The chill of the night sobered up his senses. Despite the cold, he leaned against the car, awaiting Matt's arrival. After the second minor accident, he promised the others that he'd stop drinking and driving, no matter how little the amount.

He really needed to rethink who he went to the bar with.

---

Matt sighed woefully as he closed up the store. All the other clerks had went home, leaving him with the company of the display mannequins.

He had never felt so... unfulfilled before. It wasn't the job, he loved working the fashion scene. Even if it was in the mall, nothing made him happier than helping other people find their styles.

He traced his hands through the aisles. The fabric sliding through his fingers like water was home. He knew each material, every stitch and thread. What was wrong?

It hit him like a flash. It wasn't the work, it was the people. He loved his coworkers, sure. But they were so immaterial. There was no substance to their interactions. Only "he said, she said", "did you see that guy", and "I can't believe she'd wear that" made up their conversations. It was tiring. After so many years of those hollow friendships, when was too much? Not like he was going to say anything, though. No, he was too much of a people pleaser to do that.

Bag in hand, he waved goodbye to the odd person still closing up shop in the mall. Those interactions were fine. They were direct and simple. "I know you enough to recognize you so I'll give you a basic social courtesy, nothing more." Not small talk wearing a mask of intimacy.

It was fortunate that the bar Tom frequented was right next door to the mall. Carpooling was so much easier when one could just walk across the sidewalk that separated the two parking lots.

Tom eyed his ginger companion.

"You look like shit."

"'I could say the same to you."

Matt glanced over at the commotion by the door, watching two girls being dragged out by police. Tom tossed him they keys.

"You don't wanna know."

The two climbed into their seats and started the journey home. Matt smiled softly into the night.

"Looks like we both need new friends."

---

All three boys pulled into the driveway at the same time. Tom raised an eyebrow at Edd when they got out.

"Where were you?"

He held up the newly bought carton of milk as an answer.

Once inside, they were all hit with the sweet smell of fresh baking.

---

You turned to the kitchen doorway, laughing at the sight of Edd, Tom, and Matt crowded around. They must have smelled the cupcakes and come to investigate. Your assistant had his back turned, too busy applying frosting to see the new arrivals. Edd grinned while pulling out his phone.

"Tord, are you wearing an apron?"

He whipped around, but it was too late. The moment he faced the other three, Edd's camera flashed.

"Delete that right now."

"Not a chance!"

You knew Tord was about to charge, so you held up the pan in your hands. Pot holders served as a barrier between your skin and the metal.

"Hot pan here, please don't fight!"

With a grumble, Tord went back to his task. You could see the faint tint of red on his ears, but decidedly stayed silent.

Matt was practically starry eyed.

"What kind of cupcakes did you bake?"

"They're strawberry! I had a feeling today was a pastry day."

The chorus of nods confirmed the idea. Apparently, they had all had a rough day.

You dusted your hands off after setting the pan on the stove.

"Why don't you guys wash your hands and help Tord out?"

"Frosting these things is surprisingly calming."

[hockeyforbabes]

Birds of a Feather Ch. 6

MASTER LIST

A/N: slight smut at the end of the chapter, first time writing anything like that.

7 years ago- Luke's POV

"Mom I don't understand why we can't share a room anymore," I argue.

"Because Honey, you two are getting older and that is the rule. We don't let girls sleep in your brothers' rooms," my mom says.

Groaning I try to reason, "Yeah but those are their girlfriends, Addie is my best friend."

Sighing, frustrated with the conversation my mom says, "I know but like I said you two are getting older, your bodies are changing, and you're getting curious-"

"AHHHH!" I scream covering my ears and running away, "ok we won't share a room!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Present- Luke's POV

When I woke up Addie was wrapped around me. Her head was on my chest, her arms around my waist, and her legs on top of mine.

That was 30 minutes ago and I still lie here in the exact same position not wanting to disturb her. I try to soak in the moment, the feeling of her against me is something I never want to forget.

If you had told me when I was 13 and my mom stopped letting us sleep together that this is where we'd be I wouldn't have believed you. I probably would have told you how gross that is and that Addie has boogers. I didn't mature very fast when it came to girls.

Now though I can't imagine waking up again without her beside me.

I feel Addie start to wiggle and I look down and her eyes are barely starting to open. I gently brush the hair out of her face and lightly rub her bare shoulder.

"Good morning baby," I whisper.

"I'm not ready to get up," she whines burying her head into my neck.

Smiling I say, "I know but we need to head upstairs soon."

"I can think of some better things to do," she says softly trailing kisses down my neck to the top of my shoulder.

"Addie please don't make me turn you down," I choke out, "you know we shouldn't do anything while everyone is awake and home."

Groaning she sits up, "You're no fun, but I guess you are right."

I've seen Addie in the morning before obviously, but never like this. She always has a chance to straighten out her hair or freshen up before she makes an appearance. Seeing her now in front of me in the soft light peaking through the curtains, hair messy, eyes and lips swollen from sleep, too drowsy to put on a front. She is more beautiful than ever and I am so screwed.

Breaking me from her trance she asks, "Should we talk about the game plan here," gesturing between me and her.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Like are we saying anything to anyone? Rules for touching around everyone? You know that kind of thing." She says.

"I think we should keep it to ourselves for a little bit, but only because I don't want any added pressure from the boys," I say.

"I think so too, I don't want to overcomplicate anything," She agrees.

"It's gonna be hard to keep my hands off you but I've waited this long I can wait a little longer," I tell her.

"I believe in you Lukie boy," She teases.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Jack I swear to God if I get hurt New Jersey is gonna have to find a new center," Addie threatens as she climbs onto the tube.

We've been out on the lake all day and after a lot of convincing Addie is taking a turn tubing.

"Ok just make sure you hold on and stay low, but if you need to get off just let go," I explain.

"I know the drill Lukie, just not a huge fan," she smiles at me.

Jack slowly starts to pull the boat and Addie drags along on the tube. Once she starts getting comfortable Jack speeds up a bit and she is hanging on better than expected.

"Ok I'm gonna turn a bit," Jack yells but Addie doesn't hear him.

Next thing I know the tube hits a big bump and hits at a weird angle, sending Addie up in the air rolling across the water.

Jack starts to turn the boat to head back for her when I notice we can't see her which means her life jacket came off. Before I can even think I'm diving into the water and swimming to where she landed ignoring the group calling my name.

Finding her in the water I grab her waist and kick to the top. Breaking the surface she begins to cough and catch her breath.

"Are you okay?" I ask frantically scanning her for injuries.

"I feel like a truck hit me and I'm beyond embarrassed, but I think I'm fine," She replies.

Pulling her into my chest I let out the breath I've been holding in, "I was so scared when I saw your life jacket came off, I didn't even think before I jumped in."

Carefully we get her back on the boat and I wrap a towel around her holding her close as Jack drives us back to the house.

-----------

Once we got back to the house Addie decided to take a nap to sleep off the soreness.

As I play pool with the boys, Quinn is the first to speak up and ask the question everyone is wondering, "So what was that earlier dude?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," I say trying to avoid it.

"Um earlier when you flung yourself off the boat to rescue Addie," Quinn says.

Shrugging I answer, "Her life jacket came off, I was worried. I would do the same for anyone."

"Ok, but what about the way you held her the whole ride back?" Trever pushes.

Again trying to remain nonchalant I answer, "She was hurting and cold. It's not weird for me to hold my best friend."

"Whatever you say dude," Jack shrugs.

I know it's basically pointless for me to keep this from them. We are still trying to figure things out though and I don't want to deal with opinions.

-----------

I tried waking Addie up for dinner but she groaned saying she wasn't hungry and needed a little bit more sleep.

Fast forward and it is the end of the night, everyone is heading to bed and Addie still hasn't come up yet.

Quietly walking into our room I see her awake in the bed.

"I thought you were sleeping," I say

Setting her book down she says, "I was sleeping until about an hour ago, when I woke up I just wanted some quiet."

"I get that."

"I'm glad you are here now though," she says giving me a small kiss.

"How are you feeling?" I ask.

"A lot better," She answers, "I'm still a little sore though, maybe I should take a bath."

"Or we could get in the hot tub," I suggest, "It's just us right now so it will be nice and quiet."

"Sounds perfect,"

Getting up we turn our backs to each other and put our suits on then head to the hot tub.

Once we are in I pull her to me and sit her sideway on my lap and she lays her head on my shoulder relaxing into me. We sit in silence for a while enjoying each other's presence. I begin gently massaging her legs trying to work out the soreness.

"That feels good," she says letting out a soft moan and shifting in my lap when I hit the right spot.

"You can't move like that if we want to keep this PG," I say.

"Who said I want that?" She teases.

"You're hurt baby," I argue.

"Then make me feel better," She challenges, oh God.

"We'd have to be really quiet," I tell her.

She makes a motion of zipping her mouth shut and throwing away the key and starts kissing down my jaw. Well, I tried to be good.

Grabbing her hips I reposition her so she is straddling me and place my hands on her hips. As she continues leaving kisses on my neck she trails her fingers down my abs dangerously low. Letting out an embarrassing noise I move her off my neck and slam my lips against hers.

Letting out a satisfied groan she keeps trailing her hands down and begins rolling her hips against mine and I can feel my dick getting harder under her. If this is how good making out feels I don't think I'm prepared for what's next.

I trail my hands from her hips to the bottom of her breasts gently feeling as I wait for her permission to continue. The next thing I know her hands have left my chest and she is untieing her top. Slowly she lets the top fall down revealing her perfect tits to me. All of a sudden I turn to stone too mesmerized to move.

"You're staring Lukie," She teases bringing my hands up to them letting me know I have permission to touch.

Snapping back to reality I start kissing her again like she is the air I need to survive while I palm her in my hands. I test different pressures and roll her nipples between my fingers as she lets out whimpers in my mouth and our grinding becomes more frantic.

"Baby you are driving me crazy," I grunt out breathlessly.

Giving into my desires I push her back bring my mouth to the top of her breasts and look up at her for permission. She nods a mixture of nerves and excitement on her face. Having the go-ahead I latch my mouth onto her and she lets out the prettiest noises. We're only separated by her bottoms and my thin shorts and her grinding up and down my length bringing me close to the edge.

"Luke you feel so good," She moans in my ear trying to stay quiet.

"You have no idea how long I've been picturing this," I say leaning back to take in the image of her riding my lap chasing her own pleasure.

"I think I'm gonna..." She trails off.

"Oh thank God, I can't hold on much longer," I sigh in relief.

Chasing our highs together I watch her begin to come undone as her movements become jerky and her head falls back with a stifled moan. Watching her finishes me off and I groan into her chest.

Slowly we catch our breath and face each other again. Reaching up I straighten her hair out and place a kiss on her head holding her close.

"That was awesome," I breath out.

Laughing she agrees, "Yeah I hope no one heard us."

"We should probably head inside," I say tying her top back on and standing us up.

Heading inside we both clean up and get ready for bed. Before I know it we are both knocked out holding each other.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for going off on my boyfriend for going in the wrong hole?

Sorry for something so obviously NSFW and TMI, but I don't really feel comfortable asking anyone I know IRL because I don't want it getting back to my friends and family who don't know I'm sexually active. (yes I'm an adult and it's perfectly legal but my entire community is very religious)

I (F19) have been courting a guy we'll call Alex (M22) for about a year now. Alex is a really nice guy and has always been respectful of my boundaries. I'm kind of soft spoken and he advocates for me harder than I do. If one of our friends interrupts or speaks over me he'll stop them and say "I'm sorry, but she was talking and we should let her finish." He's even defended me like that to my parents a few times. He also gives me rides to and from all my classes, and is always so attentive to me. He is so open with his feelings and communicates with me openly and freely, so much that he has made me a more open person as well. I genuinely feel like he brings out the best of me, and he says I do the same for him.

I say all this to emphasize that is absolutely the only aspect of our lives I've ever had a problem with him with. I told Alex pretty early in our relationship that I wasn't a virgin (a very bad thing in our community), and I understood if that was a deal breaker for him. He said it absolutely wasn't, that he still liked me and still wanted to court me. That he would keep that a secret for me no matter how our courting ended, either in break up or marriage. And that there was absolutely no pressure to ever have sex with him if I didn't want to.

I was also the one who told him I wanted us to be sexual before marriage and he agreed. The first time we did it he asked how I felt about anal, and I said it was a hard no go for me. He just said "okay" and never brought it up again.

But a couple of weeks ago we were doing it and Alex was behind me and suddenly it went from V to A. I screamed because I was surprised and it hurt a lot, and he immediately stopped and started apologizing profusely. He seemed so upset by it I ended up being the one comforting him and telling him it was okay, but obviously the mood was killed so we just stopped. But then a week later it happened again the exact same way. And again he seemed so upset by it and it immediately killed the mood.

Alex has tried initiating a few times since then but I really don't want to have sex with him if this is going to keep happening. He said he feels hurt that I cringe away from his touch like he's a monster, and I snapped back that he should quit hurting me like one then. That once I could understand but he did it twice and I would be stupid to trust him not to do it again. He looked really hurt by that and said it was just a mistake, that it happens a lot to everyone. I said it never happened with me and my previous boyfriend. He said that's just because we got lucky, that he has had more sex than me and he knows this sort of mistake happens all the time.

Then he said he could tell I was still in the feelings stage about this and not ready to work it out, so he would wait as long as it takes for me to come around and talk to him. Because he loves me and doesn't want this small disagreement to hurt us. That made me feel really small. Like I was a kid being scolded by a parent. Now I'm kind of feeling like maybe he's right? He does know more about sex than I do, and both times it happened he immediately stopped and we didn't get to finish having sex, so I have a hard time believing he enjoyed doing it?

So I'm here to ask tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[mortish-writes]

Ngl, it's really interesting people are playing the Heretic as unaligned to the Weaver and aligned for the Zealot, because I'm the exact opposite 😂. My Zealot is pious and I'm going to play her into being more open to other religions later in an anthropological manner (definitely not based on me, who's religious but loves studying other religions and cultures, including my ancestors's pagan ones, aksjdjknasdjk), but she's having an identity crisis first and foremost, because she is loyal to her (fake) goddess until she literally has nothing else to stand on 😂. 20 years of hard work down the drain! Nuh-uh! If not out of loyalty, sheer stubbornness is pulling her through 😂. The drama and character conflict is too juicy, the betrayal too personal, especially the religion was used as a crutch to justify her suffering. As you mentioned before, too, I don't want to make the religious character as someone mindless who'd fall into any religion just because she needs authorial guidance. Her being too trustful is what got her here in the first place, and needing to question and figure out what works for her fulfills a stronger story arc, imo—and it's not to totally divorce her from ever wanting an authorial and outside guidance for structure, because I get it and am like this. I just don't want to force another religion and deity onto her without her letting her question things and explore other options or at least know what there are other options, give her the agency she never got from the Sun Goddess's order. As for Heretic, I once again totally didn't put myself and preferences in her shoes when making her Weaver-aligned because if I characterized her as wanting to be religious and believe something, but not being able to see it in the Sun Goddess and her order because hypocrisy, things don't add up, the cruelty, repression, it involves hating half her self reasons. Increases the level of loneliness and validates her gut feeling too, while also allowing her find someone to rely on when she finally has proof of a deity that actually seems to care for her and not contradict herself (so far). Basically, this is me advocating to try the MCs out this way if you haven't already and for 10000/10 angst, haha. Make the girls suffer! As everyone says, I love we can play the MCs in so many different ways and get so many different versions of the MCs and stories for it, makes the replayability high and number of combos we can test out to get our favorite phenomenal. ALSO, you have no idea how the non-aligned Weaver Zealot route ending from the latest night has been living in my brain, rent-free. I still haven't tried the other end (want to see if I can get it with Heretic), but it's been wild to see how it seems to paint Valdricht in a better impression than whatever happens in the other end 😂. The "Valdricht scares me" asks have me like, "REALLY," since all I've been seeing is husband-shaped old man.

This is awesome to hear, almost no one has mentioned the unaligned route and ngl it was definitely my favorite for the Zealot!

As I’m wrapping the Heretic route I’m actually feeling stressed on behalf of the MC. I’m just like this is TOO MUCH how can she even deal with all of this without just screaming for hours? Thankfully we’re almost done with all of the Act I overwhelm and will soon get into actually getting to know the ROs and developing the romance. Don’t worry, there will be plenty of opportunities for delicious angst later.

I’m still blown away that so many players have such strong opinions about the characters already. None of it bothers me, it’s so exciting to see. Valdricht is awesome and gets better once players understand him and his motivations for what he does. Granted, appreciating him is definitely predicated on readers enjoying morally gray dark fantasy romance men. I could see readers being turned off by an authoritative love interest, but at the same time Serax would be exactly the same but without the finesse if it was just him and the MC. He can afford to be fun and permissive because he knows Valdricht is calculating and hyper-vigilant.

Once all is revealed, I suspect a lot of players will be replaying the first few nights with a completely different perspective on Valdricht, Serax, and The Weaver. I can’t wait.

[youremyheaven]

I had some perspective altering sex with this Bharani Sun & Mercury man. He's been obsessed with me for over a year (idk what it is but men who want me, pursue me for years 😳) and he calls himself my "admirer" and he's just madly blindly completely taken by me, I'd never casually say that about anyone but for a year and a half, this guy has been there for me in a way nobody ever has 😭😭and he's never even met me. He came to my city today morning from ANOTHER STATE just to see me 😭😭😭😭and we had a great time just hanging out and stuff but then we went back to his hotel room and he was just being casual and just talking to me and stuff but then the vibe changed and I started to kiss him 😳and then he stopped me and hugged me and said "I don't deserve to have sex with a woman like you. Please never forget your worth. You're so precious, very very few people deserve to see you naked" 😭😭😭😭😭 I felt so ???? like he's 34 and he's very protective of me in a big brotherly way and he's just always seen me in such a positive light??? and i felt kinda embarrassed 🤡and he literally just lay there hugging me and told me how I'll go very far in life and how I have a bright future ahead of me and how he feels blessed to even get to hold me like this 😭😭😭 but then the vibe changed and he went down on me, and kissed every square inch of my skin and ate my 🍑and idk if this is a Bharani guy thing but both arm guy and this guy (who I'll call bald guy because he's a skinhead) just stare at me lying down or lying on top of me and don't do anything 😭😭😭 Venusian men are kinda awkward at making love I feel like??? Both of them treat me like I'm too precious to be fucked which I really like kinda tbh but sometimes you just want someone to fck you like a ragdoll if ykwim 😭😭😭😭 and both of them say the same exact thing "I just want to take it all in" like ok king but I want to take it all in too 😭😭INSIDE ME THO 😭😭 and I'm literally begging him to fck me and he says he can't 🤡🤡🤡 and I was like huh 😳 and he said he cannot bring himself to fuck me 😭😭 I WOULD'VE SCREAMED, like I'm horny out of my mind 😭and idk if y'all know what it's like to be edged BUT THAT SHIT IS PAINFUL 😖😫 and I gave up and we're just cuddling and talking about stuff and he says "I love you, if you ever need anything I'm here for you, I've loved you for a year and a half now and I've always dreamt of saying it to you and now I get to, so here, I love you" 😭😭😭😳🤡 and so many of his habits in bed reminded me of arm guy ngl 😭🤡 down to some of the things they said to me and the moment they said it etc 🤡🤡🤡 it's the Bharani effect I think 😳😳😳and by that point I lost all hope but then he started touching me again and finally he lost all self control and he was like fck it and FINALLY put it in 😌😌 and when i tell you, i saw stars 😩😩 but he lost his hardness and couldn't finish and said he wasn't feeling confident and I told him it's okay because I didn't even care about cumming at that point, I just wanted to be pounded into 😭😭😭 and then we finally left 😭he dropped me home in a rickshaw (he didn't have to come but he still did 🥺) and he spent hella money today just paying for everything 🫶 and in the rickshaw he told me "if anybody asks you who I am, tell them I'm your sugar daddy" 😭😭🤡 he was just joking obviously but it kinda felt like it 😳😤😳

But it was so emotional and so healing in some ways and just the way he handled my body like I was made of crystal or something 😭 really 🤌🤌rewired my brain I feel like 😭😭😭

[superums]

niran "bua" Pruksamanee x tank! reader

gn!reader. fluff. alight angst. slight ableism (its in passing). no y/n or name usage. established relationship. reader is an overwatch agent. usages of thai, tell if they're wrong pls :3. no pronouns besides one mention of the word 'woman'. no gendered terms. both reader & niran are 28-31. you're a tank though its not explicitly mentioned.

colored text: niran. you.

sorry i've been gone from so long i started playing baldurs gate😭

general headcannons

you used to be a famous boxer. you were on billboards, headlining major fighting events, making tons of money goes pay-per-view fights—you were a star. you loved hearing your fans chant your name, telling off hecklers in the crowd and the adrenaline running through your veins you left the scene.

during your professional career you used to watch the news and wish you could do something about the things that were going on in the world.

you wanted to help badly but you weren't super human nor did you have any smarts to make up for it. you were just a boxer with a mean right hook.

then your life seemed to change for an instant—you lost both your arms a terrorist attack. it happened quickly; one minute you were fighting at the heavyweight championship the next you were screaming at the top of your lungs as smoke clouded your vision.

you ended your career not long after. you felt like a shell of yourself, not only because of your new disability and the phantom pains that came with it, but also because all you know is fighting.

the prosthetics the doctors offered you didn't feel the same. some couldn't hold a punch, others were hallow and the force of your you exerted would smash it into pieces without you trying.

for a while you were hounded by paparazzi, every time you were in headlines they would run up to you and say things like "it must be hard for you to go from on top of the world to nothing all in a year" or "i pity you really."

you tried to get used to the comments but no matter how many times you tried to swallow the humiliation you felt it just wouldn't go away.

after viral picture of you at the beach without your prosthetics on where people called you everything but a child of god you just decided to go far away from everyone.

you moved to a cabin on a prairie. being so far and out of the way it was a miracle you found him, or well—he found you. he came when you were close to giving up on your dream of fighting ever again.

you were sitting on your porch when you saw him from the corner of your eye standing at your warn down shack. he might have been trying to break into your house or knock you out you're not sure but you offered him a place to stay.

it might've been crazy, to let a stranger live in your roof but it was a decision made out of loneliness. he said his name niran. you let him stay with you. at first it was just for a couple of days; but then it turned into a week, then a month become months.

after a while finally he told you why he was trying to break into your house to begin with.

"i'm a fugitive." came out of his mouth as you both sat next to each other. his cold metal hand would be on top of yours if it was still there.

you turned to face him, calculating what you should say next. you've only know him for a month, its too short to know someone but you felt like he was the nicest person you've met. "i have a price on my head in a few places... seventeen to be exact...." he continued; voice getting lower as he continued. his brown eyes searching for anger or disgust on your face. instead he was met with a mix of curiosity, confusion and maybe a little fear.

"w...what for? if you can say." silence filled the room for a bit, niran was fidgeting with his prosthetic before opening his mouth again. "i...i made a new form of life, i want to heal people."

his voice wavered a little. back then his mind really didn't understand why but in his heart wanted you to accept him, not because he was alone—but because he loved you.

you accepted him without a second thought and after that you let him stay with you. over the months he started to have feelings for you; seeing your smile, the soft voice that was so much different from the one you used in the ring. seeing how you talk to him he might have fallen in love with you as soon as he met you.

you let him advance his technology in your basement and in return he gave you new arms out of hard light.

you knew you liked him but after that; giving you a second chance with arms you could feel things with, if you didn't love him then you definitely loved him after that.

with the new pair of new arms you felt indebted to him. you started training very soon after you got used to your arms not only because you missed it but because now you feel like you have to protect him from vishkar.

when you started dating he's so sweet to you. i'm a strong believer that niran is soft with his lovers even if he is a bit of a flirt. he never rushed things with you, always going slow with everything

it took him weeks of not months to kiss you for the first time, he didn't want to rush anything with you especially when if you're still vulnerable about your situation.

he set up a lovely picnic when he realized he so desperately wanted to kiss you. a large pink tree stood in the large plot of land you call a backyard. he planted plants both real and artificial— hoping it conveyed his love for you well.

he held your hands, his flesh and cybernetic hands held yours with such softness. as he led you to the picnic blanket you felt like you were in a movie; the baby pink tree pulsated and it made you feel gooey (in a good way), the phantom pains you experienced seems to disappear in that moment, leaving just you and niran.

as you both ate he talked to you like about his day how he planned this for months. at some point in your talk strayed away from normal topics, you felt his flesh hand caress your jaw only then you noticed how close you two were; niran peering down at you.

"i've been thinking..." he whispered, you twos lips almost gravitating towards each other—stopping when you two were only a foot apart. "i want to take things slow, not to rush you.." the tree pulsed again as you stared into his eyes, his voice so gentle with you as if you'd break if he talked louder than a whisper.

"can i kiss you?" he asked, you heart warmed at the words; you didn't even speak instead you leaned in more until your lips touched. it was a kiss you of a movie, his cybernetic hand went to you back as his flesh one held your jaw. passion flowed through the two of you and its all you've ever wanted; a movie like kiss with niran.

i imagine he's very passionate when it comes to you. when he kisses you it's almost like it'll be his last; he puts his hand on your chin and cradles your head literally every time it doesn't matter whats going on

his nicknames for you หัวใจของฉัน, ดอกไม้ของฉัน, love, darling and rose

translation: my heart, my soul

he wants his pet names to represent how deeply he loves you and if you don't speak thai he'll use the most intense words he knows.

you're devoted to not only loving but protecting niran! you've tried to train him for the worst case scenario of vishkar coming; and you've come to realize he's a lover not a fighter

so when he told you he was going to join overwatch you told him you were going to follow him and were prepared to argue with him if he said other wise but instead he told you "i was hoping you'd say that"

in game head cannons

while niran flirts with the roster in a joking way just know he seriously means it when he's talking to you! some moments playful and fun while others are more... intense

you: *sigh* it's so cold, i don't know how you're dealing with this

lifeweaver: lets hug! we can warm each other up!

you: *sigh*... it's so cold, i don't know how you're dealing with this

lifeweaver: i just imagine you and i feel so warm (sexual innuendo)

he thinks it's funny to mess with you even if it's in-front of your friends. down worry in reality he wont say things like that too loud... just between you two.

when you get elems he has multiple voice lines where he's in absolute awe in what you can do and they vary on how many kills you get.

1-2 kills usually gets a "you're so cool~" or "you're blooming!" while 3-5 gets a "it's amazing such strong actions can belong to someone so gentle."

i imagine being life gripped feels the same as being dropped from a super high place almost like a roller coster so maybe you have voice lines where you express you hate getting pulled

lifeweaver: *pulls you*

you: ah! it feels so weird when you do that

lifeweaver: *pulls you*

you: im gonna hurl..

if you're critical when he pulls you however your tone changes to something more thankful and sweet

lifeweaver: *pulls you*

you: you love me! you really love me!

reference

lifeweaver: *pulls you*

you: oh niran, i could just kiss you right now!

reference

you two probably have skins that match for sure. you have an epic that just a recolor of your normal skin but its mostly white and you have baby pink forget-me-nots made out of biolight in your hair.

when he eliminates you he's always so cheeky about it. he says "*laughs* forgive me my love!" and "ยกโทษให้ฉันดอกไม้ของฉัน"

translation: forgive me my flower

when he kills you via melee however he always says "*gasp* you must train some more!" and "it looks like i'm the strongest now! *giggles*"

when you send him to the spawn room his voices lines always make him seem more in love with you than upset. he says "*sigh dreamily* oh i love that in a woman" , "such brute strength makes me love them more..." and "พวกเขาทําให้ฉันกระเด็นออกจากเท้าของฉันอย่างแท้จริง!"

translation: they knocked me off my feet literally!