#might come back around later and do them though

[crazyvik97rpg]

Of course their friends didn't suspect a thing, not even Alan could imagine how miserable William felt. Not only today - lately, in general. It took such a toll on him and yet he kept on his mask, acted all strong and protective towards Sebastian. An uncomfortable conversation awaited them - Alan kind of mentioned to Ronald and Eric later on that their meet up had something to do with Sebastian's health and that William seemed really stressed and exhausted about it. So...they somewhat had an idea but really, they had no clue.

Sebastian of course recieved William's text - oh, despite his condition right now it brought a smile to his face right away. Even the nurse taking his blood pressure noticed and as extroverted as Sebastian was, he was chatting with the nurses frequently of course. "Oh, my boyfriend texted. He's the sweetest...he has to work today but he'll come visit in the evening. He's a teacher", he smiled and while he said that, he texted him right back.

'Good morning, dove! <3<3<3 I'm feeling fine...all sore and surgery wound hurts but the worst is that I still can't eat solid food. I'll be fine though. Miss you too, so much!! <3 Have a great day at school <3'

Honestly, the amount of hearts they used during texting should be a crime - but they were simply just as cheesy as in real life, heh. This brightened Sebastian's morning for sure and he just couldn't wait - he wished William was back with him already. Until then, he had to lie in bed some more, wait for the pain meds to kick in and have some more tests done by the nurses. Visiting hours didn't start until around 2pm, so he couldn't expect any visitors until then either. Only one more interesting thing happened before noon - he got a new neighbour in the next bed. An elderly man who apparently had surgery later in the day. He came with his wife to get ready here, left his bag and got changed into the hospital gowns. Huh...Sebastian had been the same just yesterday. At least something was happening and he could chat with them a bit too, so he wasn't bored.

For Alan, Ronald and Eric, today was much as every day - it was the new school year, so there was lots of planning and new stuff to do with the students. The kids got used to their routine again, diligently worked on their tasks and practiced their instruments. Weather was nice today too, which added to their motivation, and yet Alan couldn't fully relax, be happy about it. He kept thinking about William the whole time. He was worried. The principal didn't say anything about Sebastian's sick leave yet and he wondered whether a whole new substitute teacher would come to replace him. He wondered how serious Sebastian's condition might be. By the time all of them had lunch together, Eric too had to silently agree with his husband that William really didn't look well today.

By 3pm, school was pretty much over for everyone. Eric and Alan were in the faculty room, getting ready to go and Ronald also joined them just a few minutes later. They had agreed to meet up at William's place.

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[revelboo]

I went 50/50 with my brother on a full set of blokees just to ensure I got starscream and Cliff jumper (i got bumblebee too little cutie) I will be going absolutely feral with their transformers one starscream when he drops

They’ve taken over my computer monitor shelf and I can’t understand why there’s no advertising for them to speak of aside from their Insta account.

Fun fact: Everything is Alright was originally going to be a reverse harem including Megs. Reader just collecting the Decepticon high command one by one

Everything Is Alright Pt 54

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• Servos trace over your jaw, up to your temple to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear just to prolong the contact with you, because even knowing he has to go, his spark aches. No matter how many times he reassures himself that you’ll be right here, that you’re safe with the SIC, that uncertainty is still there. You reach up to tangle your little fingers with his servos and it almost breaks him, the bittersweet sorrow of your emotions washing into him. Making him wish he’d found you that day on the road, not the Seeker even as he wonders if he’d have taken you or if he’d have left you there hurt on the side of the road, never knowing what he was leaving behind. What he was missing.

• It hurts your heart when Soundwave mass shifts back to his full size and leaves, that unsettled misery in your chest spreading as you watch him go. Knowing how awful you are for wanting them both and how unfair it is to both of them. No matter how you feel about Soundwave, safe, cherished, you can’t hurt Starscream. Not after he’s let you see glimpses of who he really is under the sneering and dismissive scorn he wears like armor. That aching vulnerability he’d shown you had struck a chord inside you, driving home how lonely you’d been before him. He tries so hard to do right by you, take care of you. Sometimes he’s absolutely awful at it, but there’s never any doubt that he’s doing his best. That fragile feeling in your chest unfurls a bit more. Something that might be love, but you’re too scared to examine it too closely. Drawing your knees up against yourself, you pull that blanket he gave you around your shoulders, burying your face in it to inhale the scent of him. Of home.

• Striding through the base, he’s aware of Skywarp trying to greet him and brushing past his brother. He’ll make up for it later, but right now he needs to see you, touch you. Distract himself from the horror Thundercracker has driven into his processor and that’s threatening to drag him into a panic. Letting himself into his quarters, he finds you and your head lifts from where you’re sitting cocooned in that blanket. And he’s reaching for you, curling his servos around you to carefully press your warmth against the sensitive mesh of his neck so he can feel you there. Hating that he doesn’t have the energy to mass shift again yet. Wanting to hold you and frustrated by how tiny you are as you reach to touch his neck and he vents deeply. “Star?”

• “You stink like Soundwave,” he grouses without any real heat his voice. His servos are trembling against you, though. Upset about something. Before you can ask, he lifts you higher to brush his lips against your jaw, neck, and shoulder. There’s a melancholy in his expression that twists through you. Makes you want to hold him to you, because something is clearly wrong. The worst part is knowing he won’t volunteer whatever it is and prying will only make him distance himself. “I can’t mass shift,” he finally says.

• “It’s okay,” you say, leaning in his hands to press your cheek against his chin. Grounding him with that touch, because it’s not okay at all. He’s coming apart at the seams. Cradling your little form, he settles himself on the edge of his berth and gently pins you against his chassis alongside his canopy. As close to his spark as he can get you without exposing that vulnerable part of him to you. If you were Cybertronian, he’d be able to feel your spark if he did. Claim not only your body, but all of you. Bond himself to you. Except there’s no spark for his to entwine with and the compulsion is crazy. The urge to feel your soft hands stroke over his spark, to trust himself so fully to you, giving you the power to destroy him if you wanted to. Even knowing you wouldn’t, he just runs his servos along your spine. And he’s right back to wanting things not meant for him. Wanting everything.

Previous

[pervile]

( @ ) PERVILE IS NOW LIVE ! ⭑ 𓂃 wuwa various x afab reader. minors dni. subby wuwa men!!!, p in v, breeding, size difference, pet names, overstimulation, erogenous zones, oral sex (m! receiving), not proof-read

╭ tacet marks have always been a symbol of beauty and strength to you, but to them, they're a weakness under your feathery touch. JIYAN, CALCHARO, XIANGLI YAO.

( @ ) JIYAN

you don't need to see his tacet mark to know where to find it or how it feels under your fingers. it's there, clearly visible to everyone's prying eyes in his uniform outside the bedroom, but to you, it was something to tease him with. something to rile him up whenever the chaos took over his mind.

you couldn't quite describe the feel of jiyan's tacet against your skin―it wasn't rough, nor soft, but had a bit of a viscid consistency to it, like you were being dragged into his touch with no escape. like a supernova sucking everything in its wake.

it only felt like this when he was fucking you in spoon, usually occurring early in the morning; mainly as a way to not miss you throughout his long and exhausting work day.

it was something to hold onto and find sanction in as he sloppily grinded himself into your heat, and sooner or later, you found the mark starting at the top of his nape.

whenever you'd go to press into the edges of the tacet by accident as your body flinched against him, he'd hide his face into the crook of your neck while gripping your hips a smidge bit tighter.

"s-stop....that" he'd breathe out, emitting a deep rumble from his chest that was replaced with the spark of letting loose inside of you. those authoritative words didn't matter if they didn't match his tone.

he couldn't come in you so easily, though. that would be a punishment and not a reward as he plans to fuck you back to sleep, in hopes of finding you in the exact same spot after he comes home again.

that's also unlikely, as you love to make this moment last as long as his work days, sometimes. maybe....some other time, when he catches you off guard.

"stop, what?" you bite your bottom lip to suppress a moan, pushing your nails further into his tacet. a loud groan leaves his lips that transitions into a shaky whimper. his cock twitches inside of you and white paints your walls.

"f-fuck..." his hips twitch in a wonky rhythm, riding out his sudden high.

if all it took was playing with his mark, you'd do this more often. but with how much he was coming inside of you, that might not be an option you'd willingly pick.

"ngh- i-i'm not used to the general using such colourful language." you tease him, lifting some pressure off his nape and gliding the pad of your finger further down on the mark. "it's sexy."

it still felt like he was coming inside of you, spurts of his come filling you up, and you curl back into him, managing to push more of his cock inside of you, snug―something about this position made you feel paramount, even if he was the bigger spoon and even if he was five times larger than you.

jiyan had to have a lot of self-restraint as a general, but he couldn't do that when he worshiped the way your body fit in between his.

( @ ) CALCHARO

it usually starts out as innocent teasing, sitting on his lap as food simmered over the campfire. the smell of roast always brightened your mood when you were around him; you didn't know why, but it felt like home.

however, what was also a necessity to ease the mood was peppering calcharo's face with an abundance of kisses. this usually happens after you playfully insult him for being grumpy-looking all the time, the growing furrow in his brow halting as you did.

but he couldn't help but be sensitive to the area you were giving attention to―the tacet mark across his forehead.

sure...you were sitting on top of his lap, that never usually bothered him because he could carry your weight. but, that, mixed with the back and forth motion of your hips, was doing his head in.

no matter how long you were with calcharo, it was always hard breaking that little “tough guy" façade.

he'd groan in irritation, moving you off his lap and plonking your butt on the stump next to him. he doesn’t say anything the whole time before and after doing this.

he knew what you were doing, sneaky little fox.

you glance up at him with doe eyes; he doesn't even need to look at you to know what sort of expression you were trying to make at him, a hand covering the red on his cheeks.

he was hard, once again, because of your little antics. you could clearly see the dent in his pants that wasn't even trying to hide behind the material of his other clothes.

clear as the night sky.

the only thing calcharo is paying attention to is rubbing his temples as a way to distract and calm himself. it does little to do that, though. he doesn't notice you crawling over in between his legs, gently separating them with his knees.

the contact makes him flinch and look down at you, and he bites his lip.

your cunt throbbed at that expression he tried holding back, and it compelled you to go under his clothes.

"w-what are you doing?!"

he grabs your hair but his body grows weak when he feels the wetness of your tongue seeping through it.

you begin to unzip his pants with nothing but your mouth, rubbing your cheek against his underwear after you do so. there's already a wet patch against him. you then pull them down by the front slightly, and his cock pops loose.

he shivers when you do this, despite the atmosphere around the two of you hot and humid. and the exact same moment you put his tip on your tongue between your lips, was when he subconsciously put his hand on his forehead, grazing his tacet mark.

calcharo forces that moan back into him, caving in on himself and falling forward. when he does this, more of his cock slips into your mouth and it gags you, compelling you to grab ahold of his thighs for support.

he doesn't ejaculate immediately, but a slither of salty precum falls from his urethral and onto your tongue. his cock twitches like crazy in your mouth and you let go of it momentarily before coming back up from under his clothes.

"did you just have a dry orgasm?"

calcharo's covering his face again, and you could only see one of his eyes looking at you. his mouth falls open to say something.

"i-..."

he's stuttering, how adorable.

you then move his clothes away to put your head back down between his thighs. putting his cock back into your mouth, where he finally releases a loud moan and comes from the sudden contact.

another orgasm.

"y-you...drive me insane." calcharo sighs, pulling you up by the shoulders and onto his lap.

you feel his hard length press against your clothed butt, and you swallow thickly when you look at the greedy expression on his face.

"if you tell me to stop, i'm afraid i won't be able to. you asked for this sweetheart."

( @ ) XIANGLI YAO

your wonders have always caught xiangli yao off guard, as if to fluster him. it was never on purpose and only by chance, you just needed answers to the questions you always asked yourself. even if that was in the middle of a nightly mating press, every inch of the room filled with sex and unbridled desire.

however, as you seek out his most sensitive spots, tracing them with the pads of your fingers, he has to slow his thrusts into you―it's actually harder not to come inside you this way, when you're sliding your fingers through his disheveled hair, and catching his tacet mark between your knuckles.

he slowly blinks down at you, mouth agape, and a contorted face of desperation making him look breathtaking.

"what do they mean?"

when you ask him that, he would tell you the romantic definition first, like a recited love poem just for your ears to hear alone.

he'd often compare them to sleeping beauty, musical movements flaking off between their sister notes; he'd tell you that you can't have a stunning orchestra without tacets.

but the real definition was something more dangerous.

they were hideous things to him―one individual can hold such terrifying power without a foresight of consequence, and just one wrong move could cause a resonator's demise.

he often thought about this in the most critical of times, but it was hard not to when most of his life was filled with pain he longed to forget.

then he found your light.

"do they have to mean something?"

is all xiangli yao can come out with, concentrating more on not coming inside you. he says this between sloppy movements, placing his forehead against your chest to look down at where the two of you are connected.

what is holding him back?

you run your fingers through his hair again to distract him, bringing his face up to look at you, and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. his eyebrows form a tight nit as he whimpers against you, and his thighs do this little shake.

there it is.

"good boy." you praise him with a sultry breath.

"ahh... ahhh- ahhh......" he chokes, and after a few seconds of recovering, he leans back, grabbing your hips and driving into you to ride out his overstimulation.

"w-wait?!" you squeal.

he throws his head back as his hips dip in for one last forceful thrust, and jaw grits and mouth swings open again. after he holds you there for a moment, he collapses onto you.

"next time i'm going to tie you up and take away your touching privileges."

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 9 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

Jinwoo had been mulling over a simple, yet increasingly puzzling question: How does one even contact you?

Despite weeks of fighting together, not once had he taken the initiative to reach out. The strange thing? You two hadn’t even exchanged numbers. You either planned your next raid before parting ways, or—more recently—you would simply show up because of your own schedule, or a butterfly of yours would come to him first.

The answer came to him, in a way that felt both obvious and absurd. Your butterflies.

Jinwoo wasn’t one to wait idly for answers, so he decided to test his theory. Concentrating on the familiar presence of your aura, he extended his hand, replicating that feeling in his mind. Moments later, one of your butterflies—the one that often remained hidden nearby, perhaps acting as your eyes—fluttered into view, landing lightly on his open palm.

Its wings faltered slightly, as if in acknowledgment.

This might actually work.

Closing his eyes, Jinwoo focused on the connection he had felt before, the distinct feeling of the red butterfly communicating with him.

Take me to her.

He didn’t know if it would respond, but soon enough, the butterfly took off, guiding him through the city.

---

He found you in the Hunter’s Market, haggling with a merchant. You were engaged in a rather intense back-and-forth, and judging by the merchant’s begrudging look, you were winning. In your hands, Jinwoo caught sight of what looked like a dormant magic beast egg, likely the reason for the negotiation.

"You're late."

You greeted him without even turning around, continuing to inspect the wares. Jinwoo raised an eyebrow. Not even a flicker of surprise from you. It was becoming clear that not much could catch you off guard.

By now, he was getting used to your way of doing things. "I need to talk to you."

There was an unspoken understanding between you that this wasn’t a conversation for public ears.

As you continued to browse the market, you hummed in acknowledgment. "I need to talk to you about some things too. Let’s continue this conversation in my domain. I’ll be done here in a few."

Jinwoo froze, staring at your back in confusion.

“Domain?"

"Dungeon," you corrected nonchalantly, still focused on the items displayed before you, your words casual as if you were discussing the weather.

Jinwoo’s brain paused for a moment.

"You own a dungeon?"

At that, you paused, a beat of silence passing before you turned toward him with a curious tilt of your head. "Did I never mention it before?"

"..."

"Ah."

For a split second, Jinwoo had the very distinct and rare urge to pinch your cheek. But instead, he just stared, half-amused, half-incredulous. You owned a dungeon, and you were mentioning it in the most off-handed way possible.

Of course, you would be the kind of person to forget to bring up owning something like that.

And just like that, another piece of the puzzle that was you fell into place, though Jinwoo knew he had only barely scratched the surface.

---

Jinwoo couldn't help but feel a rising sense of disbelief as he followed you into the alley. He had barely come to terms with the revelation that you owned a dungeon. Even now, he had to force himself to stop asking questions before they overwhelmed him.

He kept telling himself, Stay calm. Just get to a private place. Ask your questions there.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

As if summoned by his very thoughts, a glowing portal materialized in front of them with a soft hum. Jinwoo froze mid-step, his eyes widening. The gate was far smaller than the typical ones he had encountered, just big enough to fit a full-grown adult comfortably—yet there was no mistaking it for anything but a dungeon gate. The shimmering silver-white wisps that surrounded it were unlike any other, almost blending with rainbow-like accents at the edges. It looked... strange, subdued compared to the usual ethereal blues and reds, but somehow still powerful.

It was just his luck.

Jinwoo had been trying to push the thousand and one questions flooding his mind to the back of his thoughts, but now, they came rushing back in full force. He glanced at you, but you didn’t even seem phased by the sudden appearance of the portal. Instead, you waved him forward, as if portals and dungeons appeared in alleyways every day.

He hesitated for a split second but, deciding it was better to follow your lead than be left behind in confusion, he stepped forward, his senses alert. The instant he crossed the threshold of the gate, everything seemed to shift. The world around him blurred for a second before stabilizing again, and he found himself standing in a vast open temple-like structure.

It was nothing like the harsh, ominous dungeons he’d been to before.

The structure was grand, with high ceilings and pillars that seemed to stretch endlessly upwards. The atmosphere had an air of serenity to it, something so starkly different from what he expected when entering a dungeon. But it didn’t end there. As he followed you forward, stepping through what looked like the entrance of a colossal, ancient temple, Jinwoo’s gaze was drawn outward.

The view beyond the floating temple was breathtaking.

The sight was nothing short of a dreamscape. Lush forests and vast gardens stretched far beyond what the eye could see. Gentle rivers meandered through valleys, their sparkling waters catching the sunlight. Towering, misty mountains loomed in the distance, and there were labyrinthine paths that seemed to lead into hidden areas, mysterious domed structures rising proudly in the distance. The land appeared to have been untouched by time, ancient and majestic in its quiet beauty.

It felt more like a paradise than any dungeon Jinwoo had ever seen.

This is a dungeon?

"I know, right?" you spoke, breaking his thoughts, your voice playful. "Trust me, the first time I got here, I thought I was dead and that this was paradise."

Jinwoo’s eyes flicked to you in surprise.

But you continued walking calmly ahead without a glance back, seeming completely at ease, at home.

This place, this dungeon, was a paradox. It was both beautiful and dangerous, serene and lethal. As you moved forward, he couldn’t help but make comparisons. It reminded him of the butterflies—so ethereal, so delicate, yet with a deadly bite.

Like you, Jinwoo realized.

As if sensing his thoughts, you shot him a brief glance over your shoulder. Your eyes caught his for a moment before you turned back ahead, leading him forward through the landscape. Jinwoo shook his head, his thoughts momentarily swirling. But something made him froze in his steps.

He watched you from behind, the soft fluttering of butterflies surrounding you, some of them trailing closely behind, others flitting about aimlessly.

One butterfly, the familiar red one, fluttered close to you and landed delicately on your finger. You brought it up to your lips and kissed it gently, a soft, quiet action that felt impossibly tender.

Divine.

Jinwoo couldn’t help but wonder again, and for some reason, his pulse quickened. But, before he could dwell too much on his absurd thoughts, he shook his head and hurried to catch up with you.

---

The two of you continued walking until you reached a beautiful outdoor gazebo. The serene atmosphere of the garden, complete with a quiet pond surrounded by vibrant flowers, made it feel just like the rest of this space shouldn’t had been, a paradise. The soft trickle of water from nearby waterfalls added to the peaceful ambiance. On the table in front of the gazebo, there was tea and snacks laid out, ready for the conversation he knew he had to have with you.

Jinwoo sat down across from you, his mind buzzing with questions. He had so many things he wanted to know, and yet, he wasn’t sure where to start.

You, on the other hand, took a sip of your tea, completely at ease, before setting it down. You studied him quietly for a moment, perhaps waiting for him to speak first.

It took a moment, but Jinwoo finally asked, "This place... this dungeon. How did you come to own it?"

You sighed, leaning back in your chair, looking out over the garden for a moment as if gathering your thoughts. "Ah, yes. The story of how I got this place. It’s not simple, but I suppose I owe you an explanation."

You paused, seeming to gather yourself. "The truth is, this dungeon was here long before I ever arrived. In fact, I... was lost here when I was a child."

Jinwoo blinked, surprised. You—lost?

You continued, seemingly unfazed by his reaction. "I was barely a teen when I stumbled into it. The Trial System... it didn’t exactly help me, if you know what I mean. But it gave me a challenge I couldn’t ignore. To leave this place, I had to defeat the dungeon’s guardians."

Guardians? Bosses? Multiple?

You caught his gaze, raising an eyebrow as if to ask if that was a question. Jinwoo didn’t say anything, but his mind whirled. It was clear that this place wasn’t like any other dungeon he’d ever encountered.

"So, how did you own it?" he asked, his voice quieter now, as if trying to make sense of this all.

“The Trial System gave it to me as a... reward, I guess,” you said, a faint smile playing on your lips. "It’s mine now, in every sense of the word. And because I own it, I can summon it whenever I need to. I can open a portal to it and leave at will." You looked at him, eyes gleaming. "That’s how I was able to summon that gate earlier. It’s a... special gift."

Jinwoo absorbed the information, slowly piecing it together. "So, you can teleport anywhere?”

“Not exactly, I need to have a clear picture of where I want to go." You shrugged nonchalantly.

Jinwoo exhaled sharply, his thoughts swirling. As much as he wanted to ask more—wanted to demand answers—he felt something within him pull him back. This was your secret to reveal, in your own time.

So, instead of questioning you further, he allowed himself a moment of quiet contemplation. You seemed to know what he was thinking. With a soft smile, you raised your cup again and said, "I don’t mind sharing more, Jinwoo. But just know, some things are better left unsaid.”

Jinwoo nodded, his gaze lingering on you. He would get the answers he was looking for, one way or another. But for now, he would have to trust you—because there was no other choice.

---

Jinwoo stared at you, completely flabbergasted, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You have to what now?"

You sighed, sinking a bit deeper into the seat of the gazebo, as if this whole conversation were some kind of exhausting memory you'd rather not dig up. "I have to level up my skills manually. Yes. Manually."

You could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to wrap his mind around it. "Wait, so… no shortcuts? No automatic leveling?"

"None." You let out a dramatic groan, leaning back and stretching your arms out. "The system basically made me work my way up through blood, sweat, and endless labor. You’d think the trial version would offer at least some quality-of-life updates, but nope. If I wanted to get better at farming, I had to actually go out and till the fields. If I wanted to improve cooking… yeah, let’s just say that was a nightmare."

Jinwoo blinked, half in shock, half in amusement. "Wait… so, all those skills that the system grants—crafting, mining, cooking—you had to actually do all those things?"

"Yep," you replied, with a roll of your eyes. "No instant boosts for me. While you get to succeed or fail with crafting based on your intelligence stat, I actually had to sit down and grind every skill point myself. And, of course, I started off just as badly as you’d expect.”

He tried to picture it and stifled a laugh. "So you’re telling me… you burned a boiled egg?”

"Listen," you huffed, giving him an exasperated look. "It was the lowest-level cooking skill, okay? Apparently, it was so low that I couldn't even be trusted to make something as simple as a boiled egg. Somehow, it just… burned." You buried your face in your hands, grumbling, "It’s still a mystery to me how boiling water and an egg turned into charcoal. But that was my life. Trial version for the win."

Jinwoo couldn’t hold back his laugh anymore, and the sound of it filled the air, rich and full of genuine amusement. "You? Burning an egg? You?"

"Hey, don’t laugh! It’s not funny," you protested and pouted at him. "Let’s just say I made my fair share of… tragic cooking attempts before my skill level got high enough to handle basic meals without a disaster."

You watched him try to stifle his laughter, but your own lips twitched, betraying a smile as well. "And it wasn’t just cooking," you added. "Farming was another story. I didn’t even know the basics—soil preparation, crop rotation, pest control. Do you have any idea how long it took me to produce anything that wasn't... wilted? Even mining was brutal. There I was, chipping away with an old pickaxe for hours just to get a sliver of ore."

He shook his head, still grinning. "Looks like you went through your own personal training arc as well."

"Of course I do." you agreed with a snort. "If the system hadn’t taken feedback from me eventually, you’d be the one cursing it out every time you tried to do something simple. But yeah, thankfully, the system decided to cut you a break. Guess my suffering counted for something, after all."

You straightened in your seat and took a sip of your tea, a satisfied smirk crossing your face. "But at least, once I got a skill to a decent level, it stayed there. Permanent. I don’t have to touch a frying pan for years, and the skill level’s still as good as ever. And the skills I invested in heavily—those have even broader effects."

Jinwoo’s brow furrowed, curious now. "Broader effects?"

You nodded, glancing up thoughtfully as if reliving memories. "Take my language skill, for example. I leveled it up while studying Monster Tongue, which was excruciating at first. But once I maxed out that skill, learning other languages was a breeze. The system gave me a boost, kind of like an automatic enhancement for anything similar. If I tried learning another language now, it’d be easy compared to when I first started out.”

He gave a low whistle. "So basically, the more you leveled up, the easier it became to learn things related to that skill?"

"Exactly." You placed your cup back on the saucer with a gentle clink. "Though there’s a catch. Back then, whenever the system went through an update, some skills would get expanded. The cap would get set higher, and I’d have to grind all over again to max them out."

You gave him a look of exasperation. "Imagine maxing out a skill only for the system to update and say, 'Hey, you can go up to Level 50 now instead of 30!' That happened so many times, I lost count."

Jinwoo leaned back, his expression growing more serious. "So… what happens now? Are you stuck with your current stats forever?"

You took a slow breath, letting the question sink in before nodding. "That’s exactly it. Since the trial stage ended when you became the player, there haven’t been any more updates. My levels, skills, and stats… they’re frozen as they are. I can’t adjust my stats, I can’t level anything up, that’s why I don’t get EXP anymore. It’s like I’m in a kind of… stasis."

He was silent for a moment, digesting the weight of that statement. It was strange to think that someone with as much knowledge and power as you would be… limited.

"I still have everything I gained during the trial, of course," you continued, your tone turning thoughtful as you gazed out over the garden. "But it’s a strange feeling, knowing that I’ll never improve again. All my stats, skills, and levels are frozen in time. There’s no ‘growth’ anymore—not like what you have."

Jinwoo frowned. "And that doesn’t bother you?"

You shrugged, meeting his eyes again. "It did, at first. But after a while, I came to terms with it. I put in the effort back then, and I reaped the rewards. Sure, I miss the feeling of progress, of leveling up. But the fact that you’re the player now means the system’s finished with me." You managed a smile, though it was a bit bittersweet.

He looked at you, quiet for a moment, perhaps feeling a hint of the sacrifice you'd made just for the sake of his journey.

"So now," you said, breaking the silence with a brighter tone, "I’m basically a living relic of the trial version, here to help you navigate the system’s quirks."

Jinwoo smirked at that. "The legendary burnt-egg chef, my official guide through the system."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "That title better not stick." Then, with a playful nudge of your cup in his direction, you raised an eyebrow. "And hey, if I’m going to help you, maybe you could use a few pointers. Starting with, oh, I don’t know… naming tips? You’re downright horrible at that."

The two of you shared a look, both of you smiling. And despite the strange circumstances, Jinwoo knew he was glad to have you by his side, guiding him, burnt eggs and all.

[Oh, he’ll not let that go, will he?]

“And whose fault do you think that is?”

---

"The meals with healing properties, the intricate mana stones, and how your butterflies can affect my daggers' stats... So that's why..." Jinwoo trailed off, connecting the dots.

You nodded, munching on a biscuit. "Mhm, pretty much. Since I have to actually *learn* the fundamentals of each skill, I can manipulate and craft related items more easily. It makes altering, replicating, or even making things from scratch a lot more natural."

You paused, reflecting for a moment before continuing, "It’s a blessing that the last system update allowed me to max out certain skills to the point where I can do these things in reality without relying solely on the system."

You brushed the crumbs from your fingers and leaned back, satisfied. "Anyway, that's all I wanted to tell you. Now, what is it you wanted to say?"

Jinwoo took a deep breath, locking eyes with you. "Join me for a week."

"...Eh?"

Without a word, he held up an item—a key.

<Castle Door Key>.

It was the entry to the Demon Castle, the S-rank dungeon created by the system itself.

"There’s no rule saying I can’t bring someone with me. You don’t gain any more experience, so there’s nothing for me to lose. But you might get materials you won’t find anywhere else, not even in the hunter's market—"

"I refuse."

Jinwoo blinked, surprised. "What?"

You looked away, your mind racing. The offer was tempting—you had several experiments in mind, but there was too much at stake. There were bigger forces at play—the plot, the system's interference, and Jinwoo's crucial development. You couldn’t afford to be too involved in this one. You needed a good excuse, something he would believe.

"Jinwoo," you began, "you’re aware of my powers' limitations, right?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"Listen." Your voice, suddenly sharp, cut through the air, and Jinwoo froze.

For the first time, Jinwoo felt uneasy, confused, like he had said something wrong. He didn’t like the shift in your demeanor, especially when it was directed at him.

"'Demon' Castle," you continued, your tone softer but firm, "just by the name alone, we can assume the majority, if not half, of enemies there will be undead."

"..."

"My powers thrive off life. In an essentially ‘dead’ land, I’ll be at a severe disadvantage—"

"I'll protect you."

"And that’s exactly the problem. I’ll be a deadweight."

"Just focus on supporting me and my shadows."

You stared at him, the determination in his eyes unwavering. He was serious—dead serious.

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache coming on. "You’re really persistent."

"I know," he replied, not once backing down.

You exhaled, resigned. Deep down, you knew that continuing to refuse him would lead to something far more troublesome. There was no winning against Jinwoo when he was this determined. "Alright," you finally said, "I’ll join you. But if things go south, you have to trust me to pull back. Understood?"

As if you could leave him, the nagging thought echoed in your mind.

Jinwoo’s gaze softened slightly, and a small, rare smile crept onto his lips. "Understood."

You only hoped that the system wouldn’t interfere or cause any unexpected complications this time. But one question remained: why was Jinwoo so insistent on bringing you along, despite the risks?

Unbeknownst to you, Jinwoo was asking himself the same thing. But it was something he wasn’t quite ready to admit—not to you, and perhaps not even to himself.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [023/10/2024] -

The middle part of this, the convo between Jinwoo and (Name) feels a bit weird, so I apologize for the OOC-ness. I'll come back to this later.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

DATING HAN LUE HEADCANONS

pairing: han lue x reader

word count: ~2k

warnings: 18+, no smut perse but mentions of it, language, not much really, this is pretty tame

a/n: hello there! it's been a while since i've written for this lovely man but i recently found this on my notes and figured it's a good time to finish it. this was a request i got a while ago, it was by an anon so anon if you see this, i got you!!

the request only asked for dating headcanons so there's not much plot in here unlike the waitress one.

i feel really bad cause i got my han girlies on my inbox asking for more han content and i've been jumping from fandom to fandom. i just need the last movie to come out to fuel the love i have for han.

enjoy <3

Han is a man who prefers long term relationships. Amongst a life full of chaos he relishes on those relationships he can lean back and find calm and comfort, someone he can rely on.

Doesn’t mean Han's not into hook ups though. Whenever he’s single he’ll have his fair share of one nights stands. At the end of the day he's a man with needs, especially since he loves putting his life on the line.

Han he keeps people in boxes: friends, off limits, hookups, and relationship material. Of course there’s also that box with bright red letters that spell TOXIC. Most people in that box are one night stands that thought they stood a chance after a hookup and became a little unhinged.

Whenever Han finds that person that is relationship material he doesn’t let them go. He’ll pursue them in his cool and nonchalant way. He’ll compliment them so smoothly they won’t notice until much later.

Han will invite you out to do random stuff, wording it as 'errands' and it’s only in the middle of it that you realize it’s a date. Lunch followed by a scenic walk in a park in Tokyo and then dessert? Definitely a date. It’s perfect because it takes those first date jitters out of the way.

You fall in love with him way too quickly and Han knows when you do. It's your own fault because once you realize you're head over heels you become this mumbling, blushing mess.

It was a smooth transition from friends to dating to being in a relationship and it's all because of Han. He's great at reading people and it helped him ease your nerves and figure out how you were feeling with every outing.

With entering a new relationship there's a period of getting to know the other person. Han is an open book, he doesn't see the point of hiding anything with the girl that might be his future. You either accept him as he is now or you don't and that's the end. He has nothing to hide although he tiptoes around his late teens.

When Han tells you of his life as a fugitive you don't believe him. You laugh in his face. Like, “Yeah, sure. You pulled off a heist in Brazil and stole from the richest mafia man with your posey of misfits. Hilarious.” Han shrugs and moves on.

You could've googled it but you don't. You just think Han had a rough upbringing he doesn’t like to talk about. Which is partly true but not the case. It comes to bite you in the ass afterwards.

Moving on, Han is not a fan of pecks on the lips. If it’s not a kiss that lasts more than 5 seconds don’t fucking bother. He’s an all or nothing kinda man, you know?

I mean it’s not like Han will fight you if you do but it's visible how he's left wanting more. You’ve learned your lesson the hard way. You’re in a rush and to say goodbye you quickly peck him on the lips and then Han will pull you back in and plant a good kiss in, successfully making you even more late.

That being said Han adores kisses on the forehead or temple or back of the head. Han will randomly walk up to you while you do chores around the apartment and press a kiss to the back your head with his hands on your hips. Then he’ll walk off like nothing happened, leaving you all ☺️☺️.

Dating Han includes spending nightfall in each others arms. Resting in the increasingly comfortable sofa and raking your fingers through his hair, coaxing him to stay in.

"Do you have to go out, Hannie?" You whisper, scratching on his scalp making him shudder.

"I told them I'd be there." Han's response is muffled as he gets more comfortable, his face pressed against your breasts.

"But do you have to?" You insist as your other hand goes to scratch his back.

"I guess I can stay in and see them tomorrow night," Han sighs as he relaxes even more against you. He's far too comfortable and this cuddling will soon evolve into something much more exciting by the way you're hanging on to him.

For a time there Han pauses his life for you. He stops going to the races and ignores the calls of the Toretto crew to nurture your growing relationship.

By pausing Han completely ignores that other part of his life leading the Toretto gang to come to Tokyo. It’s not like Han meant to ignore them he was just enjoying his time with you so much that he didn’t realize how much time had gone. We’ll get into that later.

Han is not one to argue a lot. If you’re annoyed at him for one reason or another he’ll take it and try to distract you. Whether it’s by calling you a sweet nickname or holding you or kissing you.

But if it’s about something that puts you at risk Han will put his foot down. You went out with your friends late at night and walked home alone? Unacceptable. Do you know how many sickos are out there? That's when real arguments form because you can be so stubborn and independent. You can handle yourself. Han trusts you fully, it's the outside world he doesn't trust.

If you prioritize your job instead of your well being? Nope. Han will have to step in. Hell you don’t have to work if you don’t want to. He has enough money for the two of you. The idea of being taken care of like that is so tempting but you do like having your own life and money.

Sleepy, morning ‘I love you’s.’ That’s when he says those three words the most. You typically wake up before him so you’ll play with his hair and trace your fingertips on his back to softly wake him up.

It's mid morning and you've just woken up. You turn in bed to find Han sleeping on his stomach, his long hair covering his eyes and tickling his cheeks.

You brush the hair away from Han's face, tracing your fingertips over his face to softly wake him. You'd typically let him sleep in more but you had plans for the day and he insisted in driving you around.

He starts to stir and softly groans. Your hands go to his naked back, because he loves when you do that. "Good morning, handsome."

"Morning," he says, opening his eyes and looking at you. His voice deeper and rougher than normal. He clears his throat and pull you to him, kissing your head and muttering an, "I love you."

"I love you, more," you say, kissing his chest before wiggling out of his arms, "Time to get up, you promised me to take me to brunch before going to the grocery store."

Han will absolutely let you drive his precious car. Whenever you want to for as long as you want to. Doesn’t matter if you scratch it or pop a tire. He can fix his car no problem. As long as you're safe he's all in for it.

Will silently get off on you driving fast and changing the gears of the car expertly. At that moment Han is a spectator and you're the show. He understands all the other girls he's either been with or hooked up with and how they got turned on at him driving.

Driving a fast car is sexy.

Han is the kinkiest yet softest lover ever. He will try anything at least once but is not into the harsher parts of BDSM. Spanking and bondage is okay he sees the appeal and he likes it but not the crazy parts of it. Han's favorite position is when you ride him. Not reverse cowgirl though because he likes seeing your face and your chest bouncing. He loves your expressions and hearing the curses that slip from your lips.

Han is a slut for long, messy make out sessions. The one's that start slow and then build up. His tongue in your mouth or his in yours he doesn't have a preference. Your hands in his hair, pulling on it. Wandering hands but not going anywhere. The ones where when he pulls away there's a string of saliva between you two.

I'm sorry but Han is a handsy man. In public he'll hold back so he'll keep a hand on your hips or waist, an arm around your shoulder is more common though. If he's being cheeky he'll grab your ass in public. In private though? Oh, hands always on you. Hand on your ass, hand on your tit, on your thigh, always a hand on you.

Han loves to buy you clothes and lingerie. He takes note on what clothes you like and will buy you a bunch of those but will also buy you clothes he would go crazy seeing you wear. He will demand you model them for him.

Clothes like a little black dress, four or five inch, expensive, high heels, lacy lingerie sets. You will model them but then you'll end up in his bed, clothes still on.

Han is quiet in public but in private, with you? That man loves to yap, especially when you get him to talk about things he's extremely passionate about. It's hard to get him to shut up.

Han won't succumb to his friends teasing him about the fact that his whipped, or a simp, oor any nonsense like that. He has you and he loves you. There's nothing to be ashamed of.

The day Domenic Toretto knocks on your shared home is the day you're thrown for a spin.

Han is right behind you greeting one of his closest friends. He introduces you two happily, urging Dom to come in and take a seat.

You stay right besides Han in the couch across from the big man. You've heard a lot about Dom and it's all been great things. You're just shocked at the surprise visit.

They make small talk until Dom says, "We need your help, Han."

"Anything, Dom."

When Dom leaves you're too quiet. Han approaches you, giving you a look, "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? This man just came here to ask for your help in a secret mission to take down this dangerous mercenary. How do you think I feel?" You exclaim overwhelmed at what was discussed.

"You sound very surprised. I told you about Brazil and my past," Han cocks his head curiously.

"I didn't think it was real, Hannie!" You yell, "I thought you had a rough upbringing and this was your way to joke and cover it up."

"I'm sorry," Han apologizes, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Are you really doing this?" You ask, scared of what might happen now.

"I have to. They need my help," Han responds, cupping your face in his hands. There are tears in your eyes, afraid of the new reality. Gone are the days of ignorant bliss.

"What about me?" The question was heavy and loaded. You only asked one question but there were hundreds in disguise.

"I'll be back in no time. You will stay here and stay safe, alright?"

Han left early the next morning. He woke you up with a hand on your cheek and another in your back. Han gave you a long, sweet kiss and whispered 'I love you.'

You were left at home with all this new information, your computer to google Brazil, and time.

ta-daaaa. i hope you guys enjoyed this. i know it's not a lot but i feel like i would be repeating myself since dating han headcanons is very much like the waitress headcanons, except without a plot.

i'm trying to get back into writing for han it's just a little hard since i feel like all my fictional crushes are pulling me apart, begging for my attention. my love for han is always there it's just not string enough to make me sit and write a lot. it's why i need this movie to come out asap.

you guys have been so patient so thank you for that. in any case i hope you like or enjoy some of my other work while i try and bring back han <3

[steviestits]

Lord Munson Takes a Bride - Part 1.3

Written for a dm prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic's masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: T (E in later chapters) Summary: When Steve Harrington was shipped off to the Buckley farm after embarrassing his parents by presenting as an omega, he thought that he was done with high society and would spend the rest of his days caring for chickens and horses. That is until one day, the mysterious Lord Munson arrives at his doorstep to mate with him after his parents promised Steve to him so they could renew their squandered fortunes. Now Steve has to learn how to be a proper omega as he allows the alpha to court him. But there seems to be more to the arrangement than Steve knows, along with a lingering memory of a servant from his past. (Regency Era Omegaverse au which takes inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, and the Count of Monte Cristo.) Eventual Trigger Warning: Mpreg

(Link to previous part)

Lord Munson didn’t look angry, however, as his cheek throbbed a bright red. A look of hurt and confusion marred the alpha’s handsome features before he quickly schooled his expression into one that was more neutral. He then promptly placed his hat back upon his head and adjusted the brim with annoyed huff.

“Very well, pack your precious belongings,” Lord Munson sneered. “But be quick about it, lest you try my patience, and trust me, you do not want to try my patience.”

Begrudgingly, Steve curtsied, forcing a look of gratitude on his face while he reminded himself that this was for his family. “You’re too kind, my lord,” he said, doing his best not to let any of the sarcasm he felt leak into his words. “I’ll go pack my things at once.”

The alpha narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as he turned Steve’s tone over thoughtfully, but ultimately, he took the omega’s words at face value and replied, “See that you do, but make haste. If I have to come in to collect you, then you’re leaving with nothing. Is that clear?”

“As crystal, my lord.”

Steve then curtsied again before he turned on his heel to march back to his room, though not before catching Lord Munson mutter something under his breath about willful omegas. He chose to ignore the alpha’s bitter attitude. All upper-class alphas were the same. They only wanted to marry omegas that were good for breeding then became confused when said omegas rebuffed their advances, which Steve should know since he used to be friends with several previously.

Walking back to his room didn’t take long, though he wished it had taken longer so he could stomp around a little longer. Steve instead did as he was sent to do, not wishing to test the alpha’s patience any more than he had, and pulled out a dusty trunk from the back of his wardrobe. He hadn’t used it since he had arrived at the Buckley farm, since his parents had never summoned him back to the city, so he assumed he would remain here for the rest of his natural life.

A bittersweet feeling washed over Steve as he brushed off the trunk and placed it onto his bed. He had actually begun to enjoy his time here on the farm. The work was hard at first, and Robin’s attitude had been abrasive, but eventually, he began to view this place as home. Robin had become like a sister to him, making a pit form in his stomach as he realized that he might not see her again once he rejoined society with Lord Munson.

“Stevie?” Robin’s voice sounded before there was a timid knock on the door. “Stevie, I just heard the news. Can I come in?”

Steve ran to the door and flung it open, pulling her into a hug as he did so. Burying his head into her neck, he took in the sweet smell of apples and roses that was uniquely Robin. There was still a warmth on her body from working in the garden, bringing back memories of them gossiping while pulling weeds. He was going to miss this. He was going to miss her, and a part of him selfishly wished he could bring her with him, but he knew Lord Munson would never allow it, as he was barely letting Steve take any of his previous belongs. Another omega who was like a sister to him would certainly be out of the question.

Robin hugged him back then pulled away, so she could cup his cheek while rubbing her comforting scent onto him with the gland in her risk. The touch helped ground him and allow the tightness inside him to loosen slightly. It was still there, because he still had to leave with Lord Munson, but at least she had made it back to the house in time, so he wouldn’t have to leave without saying goodbye to her.

“I still don’t quite understand, though,” Robin said with a small frown. “Why have you suddenly decided to marry Lord Munson? Why has he suddenly come to ask for your hand?”

“My parents,” Steve explained. “They made a few bad investments, and Lord Munson has offered to help them in exchange for allowing him to take me as his mate.”

“They don’t talk to you for nearly ten years, and yet you still decide to sacrifice yourself for them? You didn’t tell them to make those bad investments. Why should you have to carry their burden instead of fixing it themselves!?”

“Because they’re my parents,” he sighed, hating himself a little for his desire for their love. “And if they are willing to admit that there is a male omega in the Harrington bloodline, then it must mean they are in dire straits without any other way to resolve the issues. They’re desperate.”

“Then let them be desperate. You’ve heard the rumors about Lord Munson. He’s a solitary brute. Everyone in town has said as such. Said that he has an air of danger around him.”

“I know better than anyone what they say, but I cannot abandon them like they did me. If I turn my back on them, aren’t I no better than them?”

Tears welled in Robin’s eyes as she said, “You’re a complete dingus.”

“I know, Robs. I know.”

Then Robin pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly. “If he lays so much as a finger on you, tell me,” she demanded. “You tell me, and I’ll make him wish he was never born.”

Steve could hear it in her voice that her words weren’t an idle threat, that she meant every bit of her statement. That warmed Steve to his core, glad that he had someone like her to care for him as much as she did. He didn’t know what he did to deserve her companionship, though he wasn’t going to complain as he never wished her to realize she could do better than him in regards to a best friend and brother.

“Of course. And he does have a summer home here. Maybe- Maybe once we’re mated, he’ll allow me to visit you or meet up with you to do shopping in town.”

“He better. He better, Steve, because you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Though he knew he should continue packing, Steve continued to hold onto Robin for just a little bit longer, etching the moment into his memory. He had heard the rumors about Lord Munson, how he never hired any staff from town and took his own everywhere with him. Everyone said that no matter where Lord Munson was from or his origin, he was clearly an inconsiderate scoundrel, who only had his own interested in mind. Not that the rumors changed anything, as Lord Munson was his alpha now, whether he liked it or not.

Part 1.2 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 2.1 (Coming Soon-ish)

[patolemus]

Wip Monday

Tagged by @gege-wondering-around @dontcallpanic and probably @novasillies at some point (yes I know I'm the literal worst please forgive me). Because I can never do anything like I'm supposed to, I'm not posting on Wednesday. This is a little thing I've been toying with per @superfluffycam-blog's request, nothing concrete yet but the idea is slowly coming together. With my track record, I'll either write the whole thing in one sitting sometime soon or it'll take ages (speaking of ages the Time Travel fic Is Coming I fucking promise!! It's been a very busy month but I'm done with my classes in like two weeks and then I just have to get through finals. I'll be back to post deranged shit about sterek after that)

The house is quiet. It’s always quiet these days, his dad away at the station for what feels like one long infinite shift, and Stiles running around town with a bunch of supernaturally inclined creatures at odd hours. On the nights he’s not running from certain death, Stiles keeps to his bedroom, headphones on and blaring music loud enough his eardrums hurt because at least that way he can pretend that’s the reason he doesn’t hear any noise around the house.

It wasn’t always like this. Stiles remembers a time when the house was full of noise, all the time. The low tunes playing on the radio in the kitchen, the occasional clang of pans against wooden spoons, the buzz of the television broadcasting the latest baseball game. Small giggles and loud shrieks of laughter, soft humming in the living room as his parents slow danced in the evening.

No one hums or slow dances anymore.

Stiles’ footsteps sound way too loud in the otherwise silent house. He drops his backpack by the stairs to pick up on his way to his room later, and beelines for the kitchen. There is a lone plate sitting on the drying rack, the only sign that his dad has come home sometime during the day while he was away at school. Stiles is not naive enough to believe that to be a coincidence. He and his dad haven’t crossed paths since… ah, Stiles doesn’t even know anymore. Between the werewolves and the hunters and the kanimas and the fucking crazy that has become his life, the days seem to be going by way too fast to keep count of them. These days, Stiles only has space in his head for the dates of the full moons.

He gets started on dinner before working on his homework. Stiles makes food for two, even though he knows his dad probably won’t come home to eat it in favor of getting something from the diner—a salad, most likely, because he has all of his dad’s usual haunts bribed and monitored, as well as all of his deputies, to make sure they don’t sell his dad anything that might make his health go sideways. Stiles knows most of them merely indulge him because of their own affection towards him, but Stiles isn’t above using that to make his dad stays as healthy as possible.

On the off chance the Sheriff does come home tonight, though—a slim, slim chance, Stiles wants there to be food for him to eat. He doesn't want to give his dad another reason to be disappointed, another reason to be mistrustful. Stiles still feels cold all over when he remembers the resignation on his dad's eyes, how he'd said he didn't know who Stiles was anymore.

It’s... it's been a tough year.

And I'm afraid that's all I've got for you. I've always loved the stories that explore Stiles and the Sheriff's complex relationship, how Claudia's death altered their dynamic to the point where it was hard to figure out who was the parent and who was the child, how Stiles became this autonomous, independent character we see in canon at the age of 10 years old. This is, in theory, meant to be a character study centered on that topic. Will I succeed? Who knows!! Not me. Gently tagging @dontcallpanic @salty-fryingpan @endwersed @novasillies @hedwig221b and @gege-wondering-around

[bullet-prooflove]

Five Years Gone: Neron 'Creeper' Vargas x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @est1887 @anime-weeb-4-life @creativitybeware @mortal--soul @spaghettificationandpretzels @redpoodlern @lexondeck @librarian1002 @thanossexual @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @adaydreamaway08 @wnbweasley @skyesthebomb

Brothers!Series:

Brothers - Neron's brother threatens his sobriety.

Wide Awake - Neron regrets his decision.

Out of Sight - Neron asks you a favour.

Slow Burn - Neron and you watch it burn.

Neron lets you sleep in; you usually need the rest after you’ve worked the convention circuit. It’s been three days of solid tattooing, of late nights and early mornings and that’s not including the travel to and from San Diego, the packing and unpacking of your equipment.

Currently you’re splayed out across the bed, tangled up in his sheets. You’re wearing his black wifebeater from last night and boy boxers that hug your ass just right. Your tattoos are on display, that beautiful artwork etched into your skin.

As he leans in the bedroom doorway, his coffee mug in his hand he can’t help but think how lucky he is. His world was dark, barren before he met you and now it’s a sea of colour.

There’s a rap on his front door and he frowns because it’s six in the morning and everyone else he knows it getting ready for work or sleeping. The last person he expects to see is his brother Mateo. He hasn’t spoken to the other man since he’d kicked him out for bringing coke into his home. Something he had vehemently denied until Neron had held up the vial.

His face is a bloody mask, he clutches his ribs as he practically falls through Neron’s door, spilling into the hallway. His palm comes to rest on the cream wall leaving a crimson handprint in its wake.

It’s as Neron cleans up Mateo in the kitchen that the story begins to unfold. Mateo’s in deep with his dealer, he owes 10k after his product got jacked last week and Salvadore Ortiz isn’t feeling forgiving. Neron gets the impression that this isn’t the first time that Mateo’s disappointed the drug lord. If he doesn’t pay up though it’ll be his last.

“I can’t help you.” He tells his brother as he applies the butterfly stitches to the cuts above his brow.

He isn’t lying, the last time he’d fallen off the wagon he’d blew through every single dollar of his savings. He’s just finished paying off Taza and Riz for his last two stints in rehab.

“I can.”

His heart fucking sinks when he lifts his head and sees you standing in the doorway. He doesn’t want you involved in this side of his life, cleaning up Mateo’s messes, having your sobriety challenged.

It comes with conditions; you tell Mateo as you pull on one of Neron’s hoodies and tie your hair back so you can retrieve the money from the safe at the tattoo shop. As soon as he’s paid his dealer, he checks himself into rehab. You’ll set it up but he has to meet you back here later in the day, you’ll walk him in yourself.

In that moment Neron doesn’t think he could love you more, because your compassion, it isn’t just reserved for him, it extends to his fucked-up family as well. As he watches his brother depart with the money, Neron thinks he might just do it this time. That Mateo will finally get himself clear of all the shit he’s involved in, and they can be brothers again.

He hopes for it as the two of you sit in his living room that night, watching the clock and waiting for Mateo to show. By the time midnight comes around Neron knows it’s over, that his brother has taken your money and used it to go on a bender.

“I’m sorry.” He tells you, rubbing his hands over his exhausted features. “He took you money, your trust…”

“We both know how hard it is,” You remind him as you sit down alongside of him. “You have to want to get clean and Mateo, he just doesn’t.”

The worst part is he knows that you did this for him, to give him back some connection to the family that he’s lost through addiction. His parents, his brother, himself, every single one of them has been tainted with it. The guilt cripples him. It eats away at his soul as he lies beside you that night, because you’re so wonderful and pure and he’s poison. He’s the toxin that’s bleeding into your life and you don’t even realise it.

It's the next day that he gets a visit from the police and the news, it devastates him. They found Mateo’s body in a motel outside of Santo Padre, a needle still in his arm. An O.D they tell him.

When he identifies his brother, he feels that numbness creeping in because Neron realises for the first time in his life he’s completely alone. His family is gone, eradicated by the illness that’s plagued them for generations.

The next night he finds himself sitting in a bar near the motel where Mateo died. He orders a vodka, watching as the clear liquid swirls around the glass before he throws his head back and drains it completely.

Five years of sobriety…

Gone, just like that.

Love Creeper? Get added to his tag list!

Want more Neron? Check out his Masterlist!

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[peachhcs]

will taking care of Samy on a sick day

let’s say this takes place at some point during their freshman year of college like on a break or something

au masterlist

the first three times samy coughed will didn’t pay much mind to it. it was cold, the days were long, and work was piling up with finals rapidly approaching. the whole semester was taking a toll on everyone.

the couple was in the blonde’s bedroom finishing up some studying even though it was thanksgiving break and will knew samy wasn’t feeling her best. there were heavy bags under her eyes and she kept sniffling, but will didn’t mention it because he knew she hated when he pointed it out. so he didn’t.

until the brunette coughed for a fourth time that sounded like she was hacking up her lungs, will finally said something.

“are you okay?” the blonde wondered, eyeing his girlfriend across from him.

“oh, yeah. i’m fine,” she coughed again and they both knew that was a lie.

“baby, you sound like you’re like dying,” will chuckled a bit, hand on her knee.

“it’s just a stupid cold. it’s been going around at michigan. i’ll be fine,” samy shook her head. she couldn’t afford to be sick with finals coming up and the off-season just around the corner.

“you know it’s okay to rest right? it’s break. you don’t have to be doing work right now,” the blonde was testing his luck telling her that, but he didn’t want her overworking herself when she didn’t even really need to be.

“but i kind of do. finals week is like two weeks away,” samy rolled her eyes a bit, another cough slipping through her lips.

although, this time it turned more into a hack and before the younger smith could even blink, samy was off his bed and running into the bathroom. sounds of puking could be heard as will quickly followed after her. he immediately pulled her hair back as she threw up some more.

“hey, it’s okay. get it all out,” he rubbed her back as he reached over to flush the toilet and check her temperature.

“you’re burning up. let’s get you to bed.”

will helped her back up. he moved all of their things to his desk before helping her into his bed and bringing the trash can around to the side.

“so maybe you were right,” the brunette admitted weakly while her boyfriend frowned.

“i’m gonna get you some water and medicine. do you want anything else?” he wondered, brushing her hair away from her eyes.

samy shook her head. will gently kissed her forehead before disappearing from his room. his mom and sister were downstairs when he came into the kitchen, the two of them smiling.

“hi will, what’s up?” colleen asked.

“samy is sick. do we have anything we can give her?” the younger boy wondered.

“oh no. is she okay?” mrs. smith’s mother instincts kicked in, straightening up and rummaging through the cupboards.

“she just threw up and she’s kind of burning up. she said it was just a cold, but it might be something else like the flu,” will explained.

“i did hear from ellen that something was going around over there. i have some pepto bismol, tylenol, and water. have her take some of this and take her temperature,” colleen placed everything on the counter.

“thanks, mom,” will grabbed all of it in his arms and headed back upstairs to do as told.

“hey, i’m back. i have some stuff for you to take,” will popped his head back into his room. samy rolled to her side, sitting up a little.

“thanks. sorry i threw up in your bathroom,” the brunette frowned.

“why are you apologizing? it’s okay,” he rubbed her arm.

he helped her take the pepto for her stomach and then she took two tylenol’s to hopefully help with the developing headache. will sat at her side rubbing the side of her head in circular motions while they waited for the thermometer to report her temperature.

it beeped a second later and will snatched it before samy could see. “100 flat already. we’ll have to keep an eye on it,” the blonde hummed.

“is that bad?” the girl worried.

“no, it’s pretty normal, but if you go above 104 then we’ll be worried, but i don’t think you will. just rest and keep drinking water,” will reassured with a soft smile.

“sorry i got sick. i know we were looking forward to hanging out and stuff,” samy frowned a bit.

“baby, you don’t have to apologize. we can still hang out. i can lay with you,” will offered.

“no, i don’t wanna get you sick. you have a game in like two days,” the brunette quickly shook her head, scooting away from her boyfriend.

he laughed, “you won’t, i promise. and if you do, i don’t really care.”

“if you get sick you won’t get to play in the game,” she knew how important these games coming up were for boston and she would not let them lose their more valuable player.

“you know i’d take getting sick with you over anything, right?” will raised his eyebrow, another smile poking his lips.

“you’re crazy,” she rolled her eyes.

“maybe i am,” the blonde smiled to himself as he laid down, wrapping his arms around the girl. she snuggled into him, enjoying the warmth radiating off his body even though he was in a t-shirt and it was cold outside.

the next 24 hours will spent all of his time helping samy to the bathroom, feeding her more medicine, and checking her temperature every few hours. luckily, she only went up two more degrees. it was hard for her to relax and shut her brain off knowing all of the things she needed to get done before going back to school, but she let will take care of her.

he massaged her head, cuddled with her, helped her eat something, made her food—he was perfect and she loved him for it because she would do the exact same thing if he was the one sick.

and surprise, surprise. three days later after the big game against providence, will came down with a fever.

[sweetheartkenobi]

!!! FYMO'S 100 EVENT !!!

DAY 5 -> YOUR FAVORITE AESTHETIC -> whimsigoth 🧚‍♀️🔮⛓️

x x x / x x x / x x x

[genekies]

tag vent

[erstwhilesparrow]

the papers from the bankers say they doubt you’re coming home

So Cleo wins. Of course they win.

—

Scott has a garden. He used to tend it with his own two hands. He doesn’t anymore, but the garden finds its ways of being self-sufficient. It’s not witchcraft; Cleo doesn’t care and Scott drags decay in his wake like a wedding dress train. Gave up, at some point, trying to keep it in check.

That there’s life at all in the garden is nothing short of miraculous, so Scott hauls himself upright and down the stairs every afternoon to see the miracle for himself again. His old lizard-like friend—reanimated after an accident, and then what might have been sabotage, and then what definitely was spite—doesn’t keep names very well these days, but he roams the garden, and seems comfortable enough that Scott finds himself relaxing in his presence.

“Hello,” Scott says, voice rusty from disuse. He doesn’t need to talk much these days—whatever he’s about to say, Cleo reacts just the same, as if they’ve already heard it. “How are you doing?”

His friend flicks his tongue in Scott’s face, and the smell of rot—always there to some degree—intensifies. Scott’s had time to practise, to study. But a dead thing brought back has already split its self with death. There are points past which there is no return.

It could be worse. Scott and death are old lovers these days.

He tells his friend, “I haven’t seen Cleo since… two days ago? Two days ago for me.” Scott coughs. He gets two sentences before his throat gets dry, and if he cared, he’d be sad that this is the improvement. For all her power, it’s no wonder the Supreme Witch had to die eventually.

“Maybe I’ll ask where she went,” Scott laughs.

He won’t. He hasn’t. Nothing touches them out here. Cleo always comes back, swaggering or exhausted or sweet or fearful. Scott and the garden and death stand guard. It has been a long time since she let him fold her into his arms, but maybe Scott’s too hopeful for his own good. Someone, somewhere, keeping watch for her. He can do that while he waits.

—

“Okay. We can try again.”

Scott stumbles into Cleo’s study—library, really; it has long outgrown being a study, but Scott calls it such out of habit and Cleo can adapt—carrying a stack of books, a bundle of charred sticks, and a satchel round with shapes that Cleo is certain are familiar.

“What’d you find this time?” they ask.

“Golden apples. Enchanted ones.” There’s an exhausted gleam to his eye, and fiercer than that, pride. It is uncomfortably recognizable.

Cleo makes mistakes, okay? If their reputation is what it is in this world, it’s only because they’ve had the experience from a hundred prior failures. They don’t catch themself in time.

“Scott—” Cleo starts.

Instantly, Scott’s expression crumples. He recovers fast enough, lips pressing shut and eyes narrowing, but this other half, this ghost he’s carrying around, is like an open wound, and he has none of a time witch’s ability to let things scar over.

“We haven’t even tried,” Scott hisses. “Don’t look at me like that! How—”

It’s only the second time Cleo has seen this turn of events, so it still pierces them, quiet, as precise as if aimed. They shake their head. “It doesn’t work. I—We tried.”

“You’ve done this before? This exact thing?”

“Yes,” Cleo says, and nothing more.

Scars can still ache, and Cleo still feels it, like the remnants of a bad cut tearing from their sternum down to their guts. Despite the scar tissue, she had hoped too. She had forgotten she could hope like that. She had watched Scott retch in the garden afterwards and decided it wasn’t worth it.

“That’s—” Scott drops the supplies with a growl, and in perfect unison, he and Cleo flick their hands to catch everything before it hits the floor. “Did you—”

“Nothing yet,” Cleo interrupts, then winces. If Scott’s magic keeps him sallow and starving-eyed, keeps him a half-dead thing cannibalizing itself, hers layers over her like thin coats of paint. It’s the loneliest thing in the world to watch Scott reach for the book she’d been annotating and know exactly how the motion goes. She flinched, the first couple of times. Now, some wild, living part of her breathes, Catch it. Hold him. Please.

But it’s not Scott Cleo’s after, and it’s not Cleo that Scott’s after.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. We’ll… We’ll try something else.”

“Of course we will.”

Scott smiles as if that’s a new joke, and—Oh, it is, isn’t it? Cleo likes his smile, but it’s the same as being offered a handful of berries when what she wants is a feast.

Cleo has painted over their own past a hundred, a thousand times now. They wonder, quietly, privately, if they’ll know how to give up their time witch powers when this is all done, and worse, they wonder what they’ll be when they can’t.

—

“So,” Scott rasps. “We could test them out. Your new powers.”

They’ve had a total of one night’s sleep over the past four days, collapsed exhausted and shouting on Cleo’s couches as soon as the signal came through that she had won, that it had worked, that Scott’s death hadn’t needed to be permanent for a victor to be declared. 

The jubilation seems to have vanished with the sunrise. They’ve woken up too early and are standing in the kitchen in a facsimile of domesticity.

“We could,” Cleo says. Closes their eyes. Spits without looking into one of the buckets on the floor—blood and rotted meat and inky-purple residue. “We… Yes.”

“Does anything… feel different?” Scott keeps his arms crossed; can’t lean on the counter because there’s buckets of offal and basins shimmery with amethyst dust and ugly smears all over. Neither of them have eaten. Neither of them are eating.

“I think I’ve been here before,” Cleo says, quiet, confessional in a way they haven’t been until now. “I had—I have nightmares.”

Scott thinks about making a joke. Looks again at the buckets of blood, and the fact that he stopped going back to his house after a while. Cleo caught him sleeping on their couch the first time and only said, “It’s fine. You can take my bed here if I can take yours at your place.”

“I know,” Scott says. 

Cleo looks, briefly, surprised. It sparks some kind of surprise in Scott too. Maybe he shouldn’t be. There is no danger in being surprised once you’re untouchable.

“You too?” they ask.

Scott just nods.

They’re the same thing from two different angles—so they recognize each other, but can do no more than that. He’s thought about reaching over and wiping some of the rusty blood off their mouth. Can’t do it for the same reason he can’t go home yet.

Cleo’s hand comes up, hesitates, goes back to draw her wand and gesture with it. The buckets begin a slow, careful orbit around her. “Let’s clean up first? This place feels disgusting.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Yours.” A wry grin and no hard feelings, just like that.

“The all-powerful Supreme Witch doesn’t have a spell for that?” Scott flutters his fingers. “What do you need me for?”

“It’s better when I’m with you,” Cleo says simply. 

They don’t elaborate. Scott doesn’t ask.

—

It’s the same thing from two different directions. Of course they help each other out. Doing favours, owing favours. 

Neither of them have named this thing, but each repaid debt has a little extra to it, a leash if you’re cynical, a promise if you’re too hopeful for your own good. They keep count, each separate, private ledger book a see-saw or a double pendulum, tracing out the shape of something others might think to call a type of love.

“That’s cheating,” Scott complains, when Cleo tells him how they’ve learned to loop time and get three times the amount of studying in.

“It’s winning,” Cleo corrects smugly.

Scott scoffs.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” they murmur, teasing-sweet.

“Can you cast it on me too?” he asks. The bags under his eyes have never been just for show.

A different Scott once asked the same question, and the same Cleo agreed until they could both spit curses with as much ease as most people breathed. 

The memory of sitting in the same room, up late poring over spell tomes and stepping out onto the balcony to attempt new hexes, is carved into Cleo’s memory.

Similarly carved, though they don’t like reaching for it, is the memory of how the two of them made themselves too dangerous too soon, how the other witches whispered behind their hands about them, how the two of them barricaded Kairos and settled in for a seige.

“They’re just meat,” Cleo had snarled, pacing the room.

Scott’s fingers had twitched. Each word heavy and sure in his mouth, he’d agreed, “They’re just meat.”

That’s the kind of philosophy that causes trouble, that gets you hunted, questioned, locked away. That’s the kind of philosophy that has no room for love.

The same thing from another direction, then.

“Time witches only,” Cleo sing-songs instead, in the here and now.

“I’ll curse you.”

“You won’t.”

The look Scott shoots them is so, so familiar. They’ll get to know that look, and then they’ll forget it. It’s a little scary, how sure they are of this.

“Fine, but can you help me with this? I can’t get it to go the direction I want it to…”

Cleo gets the funniest feeling suddenly, like they’re a child playing with dolls again.

—

Scott gets back home and shuts the front door behind him and puts away his materials all nice and neat in the too-big upstairs and that’s when it hits him.

A time witch. A time witch who hesitated a moment too long before dipping their head in some loose imitation of a bow. A time witch who was still picking glow lichen off their dress, but a time witch nonetheless.

Scott shuts his eyes and is suddenly, viciously glad he agreed to work with them. Fine. So maybe he doesn’t have to win this contest to get what he needs from it. His magic is already rot and horror; what’s a couple more pieces of himself for the meat grinder?

They seemed willing enough to extend a hand toward him. He gets the strangest feeling he would like them even without the competition, without the promise that they’ll help one another. Maybe he hadn’t realized how much he missed having company.

Absurd. Something about the way she looked at him like they already knew each other.

“Better study up on some curses,” Scott murmurs.

—

And so Cleo wins. Of course they do.

[crossbackpoke-check]

what are ur thoughts on the winners room trope?

ooooo okay surface level analysis: i like winner’s room fics :)

etwas tieferes: i think it’s cool that it’s (afaik) unique to hockey fandom and i enjoy the way it integrates a lot of unspoken rules in hockey with desire/makes them a physical/tangible reality… also the narrative potentials/world-building it opens up can be fun because there’s not really a set of rules for the “winner’s room” trope. are there in-universe rules? who gets chosen? who’s exempt? who gets to pick? where’s it going down? is it the entire room or one guy? what if your (ex)boyfriend is on another team? does somebody need to be taught a lesson or do you need to remind someone who got traded you still love them? also, most important, winner’s room gives you the chance to put two random-ass guys you saw interact for 0.002 seconds and went “hmmm. interesting” about into a Situation and i love that

[mostly-imagines]

La Vie En Rose

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason wildly preferring you over everyone else

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: standard batfam arguing etc.

You sit curled up embarrassingly close to Jason on the couch, head on his shoulder. The team is still in their gear as they filter into the living room, masks and helmets discarded in scattered locations between here and the cave. The mission had been fairly simple and with all of them together it only took a couple hours to finish up.

As you waited, Alfred had kept your mind busy in the kitchen while he taught you how he makes his famous ice cream from scratch.

The clamor of the heroic party’s return had made itself known sooner than later, and you think your face must have displayed your emotions nicely because Alfred nodded you away with a small smile and no second thought.

You’d walked into the living room, weaving through the mess of siblings until a hand snuck out on your left and grabbed your wrist. You barely had time to look at him before Jason pulled you down to sit next him on the sofa. He wrapped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in and leaving virtually no space between you. His armor sits heavy against you, but a welcome weight on your shoulders.

Tim plops down on the couch across from you and you can just make out a bit of blood on the side of his head, aptly accompanied by an irritated look sprawled across his face. It’s not enough blood to be concerned about—not for them—but you can venture a guess that whatever they were up to shouldn’t have called for any injuries and his pique is likely directly related to that.

Though Dick’s goading aura might have something to do with it too, as he comes crashing down next to him a second later, partially sitting on Tim’s cape and pulling him into an awkward angle. 

Nightwing doesn’t seem too perturbed by the younger vigilante’s agitation and curt manner of pushing him off.

The others are too caught up in chatter to pay much attention to you, and you can be certain that’s why Jason takes that moment to press a kiss to the side of your head. He lets his lips linger there for just a second as you lean into him.

Alfred’s own entrance is the only thing able to subside the flurry of conversations skirting around the room.

“A job well done,” he commends with a nod. “A selection of ice creams awaits you in the kitchen.”

He gives you a sly wink before retreating back through the swinging door, leaving Stephanie and Cass to practically trip over themselves trying to beat each other to the kitchen. Robin follows after unhurried, mask still on, with his hands behind his back.

Jason kneads your thigh before pushing himself up to stand. He turns back, looking down to you. “What do you want?” he asks softly.

You hum, "Just strawberry's good."

Tim sits up, "Can I—”

"No, you've got legs,” Jason grumbles, stalking off to the kitchen.

Dick barks out a laugh and you bite back a smile.

Tim looks absolutely aghast. 

“That’s such bullshit. You know, he used to be nice.”

“No he didn’t,” Dick laughs, shaking his head. “Not since you’ve known him.”

Stephanie stumbles out of the kitchen then, the door hitting her back on the way, as she mutters a curse behind her. You can vaguely makeout Jason grunting something back before she rolls her eyes.

Steph looks at you, shaking her head as she returns to her seat, “You live like this?”

You shrug, “He’s nice to me.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Tim grumbles.

Jason returns after Cass a minute later with a bowl of strawberry ice cream and two spoons. He expertly ignores Tim’s unwavering glare as he resituates himself beside you.

He scoops your legs up over his lap and positions the bowl in between you, wrapping the sleeve of his jacket around it so that the cold porcelain doesn’t make contact with your skin.

The others have set themselves up so that the four of them are stuffed up against each other on the sofa adjacent to you, very obviously examining you both. 

And while you’re willing to acknowledge the amused stares and singular glare, Jason only sighs heavily, rolling his eyes as he glares at the coffee table.

Only a few seconds of this are allowed to go by before he pulls over a throw pillow and sets it over your knees, so that it rests atop your heads like a mini-fort, successfully blocking out his siblings' view of the two of you.

You smile and press a light kiss to his shoulder as he simmers.

Regrettably, you miss the way Damian side-eyes the pillow above you as he re-enters the room, perching himself atop the back of the couch behind the others.

“This is so nice,” Dick preens. “He used to just leave the room when too many of us gathered in one place. Now he has to stay.”

Stephanie watches the makeshift fort with wary eyes, scooping ice cream into her mouth. “Yeah…I don’t wanna freak you guys out but, uh…”

It’s quiet for a moment and you guess Cass is speaking. 

You’re proven right when Stephanie starts up again, “My thoughts exactly.” Her voice drops into a raspy whisper that isn’t really meant to go unheard, “I don’t know who the hell that is, but it is not Jason.” 

“This is unprecedented,” Damian mumbles, dipping into his own chocolate cup.

“Do they always talk about you like you’re not here?” you ask Jason quietly. 

“Yes,” he grumbles with a scornful look directed at the bowl.

A low hiss can be heard immediately after, “I’ve never heard him whisper before, what the fuck?”

You can’t hide your laugh as well as you mean to, but you know Jason’s light swat to your thigh is nothing more than a rib.

Mumbles continue along the other couch, mostly going unacknowledged, until Tim busts out, “He doesn’t even like strawberry!”

Jason snaps the pillow out of the way, “The fuck do you know about what I like?”

Tim resets his posture with one hell of an attitude, snarking, “Well I can name one thing you really seem to fucking—”

Jason grabs the pillow harshly and chucks it at Tims head which connects with a loud thwack.

Damian swats it away before it can knock him off balance, though his scowl is only half worth what Tim’s is. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he says with a sneer. “This is why you don’t get invited to movie night anymore.”

Jason doubles back at him, “Sorry, is this not your own fucking house?”

Tim huffs, “Yes, which i—”

“Then get your own goddamn ice cream!”

Tim huffs as he stands, sending Jason a pointed look. “I’m going because I want to.”

Jason barely gives him a sardonic nod as he stomps off.

“Get me some too!” Dick calls back, only for the back of his head to be met with a sideways grimace from Tim.

As he leaves, the focus of the room seems to shift towards Damian dripping chocolate onto his cape and it fades away from there.

You turn to Jason, lowering your voice to just below a whisper, “If you don’t like strawberry—”

“I like it,” he tells you, leaving no room to argue as he takes a bite.

Voicemail. 

Voicemail.

Voicemail. 

Voicemail.

Declined.

Voicemail.

Declined.

Declined. 

“I swear to God, he better be dead,” Stephanie mutters to herself.

She shuts her phone off and tosses it into the passenger seat with a huff. Her fingers drum against the steering wheel as she scans the sidewalk across from her car.

The night before the majority of the team had been involved in a less-than-successful plan, which some have called “a display of complete idiocy and inability to circumspect.”

Then Tim had to go and make a joke about that word choice in what was apparently a bad moment. This gave way to a harsher punishment of the team being forced to clean the batcave foot by square foot—notably, an impossible task.

So naturally, they had to retaliate.

The plan was to dismantle the batmobile piece by piece and leave it a collection of parts for Bruce to find. Problem being, the group as it stood didn’t possess the capability to do so without doing a great deal of damage to the parts. Damage, that the family was not willing to face extra retribution for.

Fortunately, they knew just the man for the job. 

Unfortunately, said man has devoted his life to ignoring their messages, favoring to live peacefully and distantly from them. And because that peace and distance does come with an add-on of borderline complete secrecy from his family, no one had any idea where to look for him.

So, Stephanie decided to do the next most rational thing and track down your location. She’d hoped he would be with you like he always is, but for seemingly the first time in the last year—he’s nowhere to be found.

Now, was revenge for a minor-slight by Bruce so important that it required Stephanie to take all of these steps to get a hold of Jason? No, absolutely not. She’s pretty sure that the others have already given up on it by now and started cleaning. But it’s about the principal. And also, she does not want to clean the floors of a cave.

She jumps up in her seat when she spots you exiting a store, scurrying to unbuckle and pry the car door open.

She’s across the street in half a second, running directly into your line of sight. It actually would’ve been very difficult for her to miss your line of sight, considering she’d landed only a good six inches in front of your face. “Hey!”   

“Oh, fuck—” you jump, grabbing your chest. You take a breath when you realize who it is, less surprised now by the theatrics of the introduction. “Hey Steph.”

“Hey,” she smiles casually, like she didn’t do what she just did. “So Jason’s been ignoring us and I need to get a hold of him,” she tells you.

You nod, still collecting yourself. “Oh. I don’t know where he is—”

She shakes her head, “That’s fine. Can I use your phone to call him?”

You frown, “Is something wrong?”

“With him, yeah,” she snarks. “I called him, Tim called him, Dick called him, Cass called him, Damian called him, we used Bruce’s phone to call him—that was a bit of a long shot, but still. This is our last option. Well, not our last option, if this doesn’t work I could get really invasive, but—” She shakes the thought from her head, “Nevermind.”

You nod blankly, taking in the mountain of information she’d just handed you. “How’d you know I was here?”

She scans your eyes back and forth for a second before her own widen in realization and she’s shaking her head. “No, no, don’t worry we’re not tracking you! I just hacked into the traffic cameras to find you.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, nodding some more. “Okay.”

You hand her your phone without any further questions—for your own sake—and she happily accepts. 

“You know I texted him 115 times?” she tells you as she scrolls through your contacts.

You furrow your eyebrows, watching her click his name and press the phone to her ear. “Did you count?”

“Well, I had the time, di—you son of a bitch! One ring?” Stephanie scorns into the phone.

You can hear Jason groan on the other end of the line. 

He says something to Stephanie that she follows up with a firm shake of her head.

“No,” she says defiantly. “She let me use it.”

Stephanie rolls her eyes, not pleased with his response. “What if it was an emergency?”

She listens for a second, skeptical look on her face.

She gasps suddenly, “I am not overstepping, we thought you were dead!”

Over the course of about ten seconds the shock on her face drops into just-been-caught guilt. “Well, I mean we considered it.”

You imagine Jason’s telling her to give you your phone back as she stands her ground, pushing, “If you promise to text me back.”

A short response on his end.

“Promise to text me back!”

There’s a brief lull before she’s giving a self-satisfied nod and jostling your phone back into your hands. “Here ya go. Thanks, babe!” She smiles wide at you before jogging back across the street, not waiting for the cars.

You smile as you watch her go, putting the phone up to your ear, “Hey Jay.”

You can hear the relief on the other end of the line. “Hey sweetheart. You know if you see Steph in public, you can just walk away?”

“I’m not going to walk away from your family.” You look again across the street, “Also I don’t think that was an option for me this time.”

“That thing is fucking scary.”

Cass smiles fondly, signing, “I think he’s cute.”

Tim eyes the way Salem traipses around his feet, yellow eyes staring up at him. “Why’s it even here?”

Jason rolls his eyes, continuing to scroll on his phone. “He’s hers. Deal with it.”

Tim scrunches up his mouth. “She knows I hate it. And she, unlike you, wouldn’t subject me to this just for the hell of it. So again I ask: why is it here?”

Jason huffs, looking up from his phone. “What do you want me to say? He wants to be.”

Tim scoffs at that, “‘It wants to be’? You’re the one who put it in the car.”

“No, I didn’t,” Jason says factually.

Tim looks at him sideways as Salem leaps onto Jason’s lap and nudges his hand up. Jason follows along as requested, petting the top of Salem’s head with an open palm. 

Tim squirms to the other side of the couch with a look of disgust on his face. Salem watches him the whole time.  

A smile adorns Cass’ face as she signs, “She says he can read people’s energy.”

Tim huffs, resting his head against his fist. “What does that even mean?”

The conversation is cut off by the clatter of you and Dick stumbling into the room, carrying a freshly painted headboard. Blue paint coats both of your hands and has no doubt stained your clothes.

You’re clearly struggling a bit to keep your grip on your end, the weight of the wooden frame dragging your arms down.

Jason stands and Salem flows along with his movements easily, leaping down onto the hardwood. He comes over and helps you lift your end of the frame with a stupid amount of ease, to the point that you’re not even holding any of the weight up anymore. The three of you—less so you—move the headboard and lean it up against the wall. After it's set down Jason steps back and looks over it gingerly.

“It looks good,” he murmurs to you, quiet enough to not give his brother the satisfaction of his approval.

Dick had asked you over to help him paint Damian’s bed frame as a surprise for him for not getting in any “altercations” at school this semester. You’d decided on coating it with his favorite color first and then fill it in with a collection of what Dick has “on good authority” are his favorite animals. It’s a fairly random assortment that you’re not sure adds to or disproves Dick’s credibility. You’d spent the better half of the afternoon googling animals you’d never heard of just to make sure you projected their likenesses accurately. Dick had been very clear that you had to be precise on the details because Damian would know if he was really looking at a komodo dragon painting or if it was “some common lizard.”

You sigh, “I hope he likes it. I’m worried we did it too childish for him.”

“He is a child,” Jason says plainly.

“But he is not childish,” you counter. And he sure isn’t. You’d had a hard enough time convincing Damian to watch cartoons, adding a colorful animal mural to his bedroom might be one step too far. You’re still trying to figure him out.

“He’ll like it,” he says firmly.

You smile, slipping around under his arm and tucking yourself into his side.

Not a moment later, Dick slings an arm around Jason's shoulder, grinning as he pulls his brother in close.

Jason’s immediately louring. "No, get away from me."

Dick, unfazed and still smiling, removes his arm and takes a big step to the right. You do the same, figuring he needs his space, but you get caught by the wrist before you can do more than sway to the side. 

“Not you.” 

He pulls you back under his arm, wrapping it around the front of your shoulders. You hook your fingers around his forearm, letting your hand hang.

You hear a double-clap from the other side of the room that has you both turning around to face Cass. 

She signs something to Jason with a fond smile on her face. 

You look back and forth between them as Jason waves her off. “What?”

He shakes his head, “It’s nothing. She said—she said we’re cute.”

You smile up at him and he deflects—not so subtly—and starts nudging you back towards where the group is gathered, now all standing. 

Dick’s quick to start bragging off to the room about how great of a job the two of you did and how really complex and daunting it actually is painting animals for a child.

As he talks, your eyes find Jason, who’s definitely about to roll his eyes any second now. A bit subconsciously, your hand comes up to brush Jason’s white streak of hair back, away from tickling his forehead. 

On the other side of Jason, Tim does the same, sweeping Jason’s hair back in a much more mocking manner. 

This gives way to Jason smacking his hand away, harder than he needed to.

"Wha—You let her do it!" Tim protests, overplaying how much the slap hurt.

Jason scowls, "She can do whatever she wants."

Tim drops his shoulders, looking at Jason as if he’d been scandalized. “Oh but I can’t?”

“Not if it involves touching me,” Jason grumbles.

Tim steps closer, putting a finger to Jason’s chest. “You’re such a—”

From the floor, Salem hisses up at Tim, successfully startling the teenager. “Auahh—”

He stumbles backwards, grimacing at the cat. 

“Fucking demon,” he hisses, walking away.

When Tim’s far enough away and Salem’s seemingly satisfied, he brushes up against your leg, purring. 

You peer down at him with a furrowed brow. 

“What’s Salem doing here?”

“I’m not doing this shit with you.”

“No, come on, 9 out of 10 times is what you said. How ‘bout just once? Beat me one time at anything, Jaybird.”

“Anything?” Jason asks like he knows damn well Dick can’t swear on that word.

Rightly so, Dick backtracks. “Something agreed upon.”

Jason throws his hands up, partially in exasperation, partially relenting.

Dick smoothly turns his back to him, announcing, “Opening up the room for ideas.”

Damian’s eye roll is almost audible from the corner armchair, where his attention is unmoved from intently sharpening a blade he’d recently come into possession of.

Bruce similarly remains unbothered in his seat, trying to read despite the distractions. 

“Ooh, okay. Okay.” Stephanie wiggles up a little on the couch. “You could race!”

Dick shakes his head negatively, “I literally just busted my knee up two days ago, Steph.”

“Convenient,” Jason mumbles.

“You were there!” Dick exclaims with an open mouth.

Steph continues, “Um…”

Cass waves to the room from her position upside down on the couch, head hanging down next to Stephanie’s legs. Attention successfully acquired, she signs, “Staring contest.”

Jason grimaces, “That sounds like a nightmare.”

Dick gives him a faux-smile.

“You should play chicken,” Damian chimes in, holding up his knife.

“No,” Bruce drones monotonously as he flips a page. 

“Tic tac toe?” Steph suggests.

Cass is already shaking her head as she scrunches up her mouth in thought.  

Jason rolls his eyes, “What are we, five?”

Dick nods, cracking his knuckles as he thinks. “No, we need something that really proves our worth.”

Bruce looks up from his book, staring numbly through his brow, but remains silent.

“You could arm wrestle,” Steph suggests.

The elder brother twitches at that, “Uh, no.”

Cass moves past that before a joke has the chance to be made. “Handstand contest?” she suggests.

Jason shrugs, “Yeah, sure.”

The elder brother looks at him incredulously. “You’ll do a handstand contest with me?”

“That’s what I just said.”

Dick scoffs, “Jaybird, I’m an acrobat, you’re just some guy.”

Jason, not giving him the courtesy of eye contact, pulls his sweatshirt off from his back. “Well, you’re a lot of things, aren’t you?”

Dick throws his head back with a squint.

Jason fishes his phone out of his pocket and Dick follows suit, offended stare maintaining all the while. 

No exchange is required as they both toss their phones across the room, landing together with a rough clatter on Damian’s lap. Damian’s resulting glare is borderline disgusted.

Dick starts them off, “Alright, go. One…two…”

Both men push up onto their hands, muscles flexing as they find their balance. Dick’s form is better, of course, but Jason looks to have a stronger foundation.   

They both hold strong as several minutes go by with the brothers only maintaining the attention of some of the room, and the interest of none of it.

Stephanie huffs and tilts her head, thoroughly unentertained with the consistency they’re both managing. 

“Starting to wish they’d picked something that moved along a little faster,” she murmurs to Cass.

Dick glances over at the younger brother, clearly displeased with his lack of trouble keeping up with him. He shuffles closer one hand at a time, using the decreased distance to poke at Jason with his foot, trying to knock him over.

Jason kicks him back harder, “Hey! Don’t be a dick—”

“Very funny,” Dick leers.

They both end up finding a struggle to keep balance and are forced to mind their own.  

A chime rings out from the corner that has heads turning briefly in his direction before coming back to the competition. 

“Whose was that?” Dick calls out.

Damian leans over and inspects the screens with disinterest. “Todd’s.”

Jason adjusts his position, “Who is it?”

Damian responds with your name. 

“And?”

He picks up the phone shrugging like he couldn’t care less, “She wants to know if you want to go see some movie.”

There’s a brief silence before Jason drops out of the handstand, standing up. 

Dick’s blood-flushed face peers up at him, bewildered. “Wait, what?”

The family watches with wide eyes as Jason picks his sweatshirt up off the floor and tugs it back on.

Stephanie gawks, bordering on laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he says simply.

Dick lets himself fall into a kneeling position with a huff, “You would rather go to some movie you don’t even know the name of than win a bet?”

Jason moues at him, “Uh, yeah.”

He tosses a twenty at Dick, and plucks his phone from Damian’s hand as he strolls past him, typing out a reply.

Cass sits up a bit and signs up to Stephanie, “Does he even like movies?” 

Bruce, now attention now fully removed from his book, watches Jason exit with the slightest hint of a smile. Dick sits dumbly on the floor, staring after him with an open-mouth. 

Damian twists the knife in his hands around contemplatively before rising to stand. 

“I will go,” he announces, dropping his blade onto the seat of the chair. Jason grumbles a no but Damian follows after him just the same.

you know what happened to the last guy that didn’t reblog? … 🔪🧨💥😵⚰️🪦

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi lashing out on his pregnant wife only to beg her for forgiveness later

Pairing: Sanemi x pregnant!reader

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: Like every week, you find yourself on your way back from Shinobu's estate and your pregnancy check-up. Little did you know what horror awaits you at your own home with your husband almost killing two kids...

Warnings: Sanemi is mean in this one and I mean it, extreme hurt but also comfort in the end so don't worry, full Shinazugawa package regarding language and violence lol, not proofread because I have to leave now

Thank you sooo much for that cool request @itsmscoco and I'm sorry it took a while. I really hope you like what I came up with 🤍

You rub your minor belly. For a woman, a pregnancy should feel like a trip to heaven. After all, you are blessed with developing a child that is half you and half your husband. Oh, your beloved and surprisingly gentle husband who always makes sure that you get enough sleep, that you nutrition yourself properly. But even the wind hashira can’t do a single thing against your constant sickness and pain.

“Please try this out, (y/n). Don’t hesitate to come here again if you need something else. You really have an unfortunate pregnancy when it comes to nausea”, Shinobu comments gently while giving your belly a little massage.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am so excited about the honor of caring for a child in my own body. But honestly, I’m so glad when this pregnancy is over”, you huff while taking a deep breath in.

Please, don’t vomit all over the insect pillar who’s just trying to help. You’ve been here what feels like everyday since finding out you’re pregnant. Well, to be exact, Shinobu is the one who suggested that you might expect a child.

Because of your never-ending sickness.

“Oh, there’s nothing to get wrong at all! After all, your pregnancy is a rather difficult one. But I’m sure Shinazugawa is taking good care of you!”

“He definitely does. My husband is an angel”, you reply in an instant.

You can’t wait to go back home. Even though your sleep-drunken eyes won’t be able to stay open longer than maybe a few hours, even though you weren’t able to catch a proper glimpse at Sanemi’s part in the on-going hashira training until now, you can’t wait to go back home. Back into your estate, back into the arms of your beloved husband.

“Not quite the codename I’d use for him, but that’s just what love does, right? I will send a kakushi along with you. Otherwise, Shinazugawa might show up and threaten me”, Shinobu jokes while helping you to get up.

“Thank you for your help. Again.”

You pull the insect hashira into a deep hug. How lucky you should consider yourself for the opportunity to call Shinobu your friend, that Sanemi laid his eyes on you. Out of all the countless women around, the ones with faces like porcelain and bodies so well-formed you can’t hold a candle against every single one of them. But still, he chose you.

“Come on, (y/n). Why are you crying?”, Shinobo whispers into your ear while rubbing small circles onto your back.

“I’m just a little overwhelmed from everything I guess”, you mumble against her comforting shoulder.

Just a few months ago, you would have laughed at anyone who told you that your life would turn out like this. Of course, you’ve lost countless good friends and family members on the way and living with a suborn husband like Sanemi isn’t always easy. But somehow, the two of you always make it work.

Right?

-at the wind hashira estate-

“We are almost there. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired from walking, that’s all!”

Truth is, your feet hurt like hell. Shinobu reported about women who don’t even feel their baby until the second trimester. Why are your feet already swollen, your belly bloated, your guts constantly turning? And there’s still so much ahead.

“Looks like Shinazugawa-sama received a new bunch of trainees after the other corps members all landed in Kocho-sama’s hospital wing”, the kakushi next to you comments dryly.

“Was it really that bad?”

Of course you heard about the rather brutal training methods of your husband. After all, even the walls of his estate aren’t thick enough to stop every single scream from reaching your ears. But still…

“It was pretty bad. Some of the-“

Glass cracking. Screams from afar. Out of instinct, you pick up your pace until you dash towards your home, sweat now dripping from every pore. What happened? Is Sanemi alright? He wouldn’t leash out on one of his students like that. Something must have happened. A demon? No, it’s still daytime. But what is it?

“He’s back! He’s back! That cold-blooded man! Lie down and pretend that you’ve fainted!”, a blonde-haired boy screams while almost collapsing onto the floor.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on here?”, you press out.

Your lungs threaten to fail you, breath already tasting like pure iron.

Until your eyes find Genya.

Your guts twist and turn in every direction, almost force you to vomit all over the place. Genya shouldn’t be here. Out of all people, it shouldn’t be him. And who’s the boy next to him. That familiar scar, you’ve seen that boy before. Is it possible that…

“Kamado Tanjiro”, you breathe out.

Maybe that is even worse.

Your eyes dart around the area without an aim. Where’s Sanemi? Did he find them already? They need to leave before he finds out that they’re here, carry on with another hashira training.

“Please stop now!”, Tanjiro suddenly shouts while stretching out his arm in defence.

An uneasy feeling crawls up your spine, the dark claws of sickening foreshadowing. All you can do is standing death still right where you are and watch in sheer horror as your husband stomps out of your estate motion.

Is that your husband you love and adore, though? You know how untamed he can get especially when getting confronted with his painful past. It was never easy for him to see Genya join the demon slayer corps or realize that his mother could have been saved like Tanjiro’s sister.

But never in your entire life have you seen him like this. The empty shell of your husband, muscles tensed to the maximum and his empty orbs directed towards the two boys in front of him.

In this very moment, you’d trust him to actually kill them.

“What are you going to do? Are you planning to kill Genya?”, Tanjiro continues passionately.

Your glossy orbs are set on your husband. Would he really do something like that? What if you witness the father of your unborn child taking the life of two other human beings? Your heart can’t take it, knees threaten to fail you.

“Hell no, I’m not going to kill him. It would be easy enough to kill him, but since it’s against the rules and all…I’m going to ruin him beyond recovery!”

Until your blurry head finally makes a decision and allows your feet to run.

Straight towards the two boys.

Straight into the firing line.

Straight into the sight of your now maniac husband.

“You won’t do any of these things, you hear me?”, you jeer at him with your new-found courage.

“(y/n)”, Genya breathes behind you.

“How dare you to talk to innocent children like that, Sanemi?”

The man in front of you furrows his eyebrows, hands clenched into tight fists while taking a step towards you.

“Get lost. Right now”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You swallow hard, all nerves now tingling in sheer horror. This is the first and last warning, without any doubt. The look on his stone-cold face tells you more than urgently that Sanemi isn’t playing, that he doesn’t want you here.

Maybe it’s best if you go back inside and pretend that nothing happened. He himself said that he won’t kill them, after all…

“I’m not leaving”, you bite back.

But that would mean leaving Genya alone. That would mean giving up all of your principles.

“Will you act out like this towards our child as well?”, you continue while growing bigger and bigger in front of the two boys.

He might be your husband, the love of your life. That doesn’t mean you’ll always have to do what he tells you, tough. Instinctively, you clench your hands into tight fists with your glossy eyes almost piercing through him. Enough is enough.

“If our child acts as dumb as you do, I sure as hell will!”

Oh.

Your heart drops to the floor when a nauseous wave of agony hits you with full force. Sanemi is and has always been a hot-headed man who never thought twice about the things he said. But never, not even once in your entire relationship he insulted you.

Until now.

“Is this really how you feel about me? We should support each other, you should listen to me as well as-“

“Spare me with that bullshit, (y/n)”, Sanemi spits at you.

“Get.out.of.the.way. Can’t you hear me?”

It’s like you stop living for a moment. All this time, you did your best to understand him and his grief. Everything Sanemi does comes with a logical reason behind it, even though it’s hard to see from time to time. But lashing out at you like that?

“Stop being so disrespectful to me right now. I am your wife-“

“Right now, you’re my problem”, he jeers back.

“And now get off my sight and let me finish this real quick-“

You don’t know what made you act the way you just did. Was it his cruel behaviour, the way his words cut through your heart like a thousand knives? Before your husband is even able to finish his sentence, your palm races towards his cheek with full force.

The world around you goes silent, frightful gazes glued onto you while you can’t stop your tears from falling anymore.

“Is this how you’re acting around your pregnant wife by now, how you’ll treat innocent children? If that’s the live you chose, I’m not a part of it anymore”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, the urge to get as far away from him as possible becomes unbearable. Your feet start sprinting towards the estate on your own, carry you into your now so empty-feeling bedroom.

And finally, you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Is this really the man you love, that you’d give your life for? Your shaky fingers caress your belly mindlessly.

You can’t stay here. Not when Sanemi showed you a completely different face today. Not when this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.

-a few hours later-

“Fuck!”, Sanemi cries out on top of his lungs while dashing towards Obanai over and over.

Why can’t he get your stupid words out of his mind? The way you stood there with tears in your eyes, how he was literally able to hear your heart crack when those damned words left his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, to drag you into the fuckery with his little brother and that Kamado boy.

But why did he say all those dumb things, then?

“You seem off, Shinazugawa”, Obanai comments dryly, hitting the wind hashira with full force again.

“I guess I fucked up”, Sanemi mumbles.

What if you won’t forgive him for today? Your last words haunt him since the moment you left him standing in the rain.

“I bet you can talk your way out of it-“

“Hell nah. I don’t think she wants to see me tonight.”

“Did you ask her, though?”

“Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You’re the one to talk, not able to confess your feelings to Mitsuri”, Sanemi barks at the man next to him.

“But yeah, maybe I should get going…”

Coming home never fuelled him with so much fright. What if you’re still angry at him, if you refuse to even talk to him? Or even worse, what if you’ll really leave him?

Sanemi’s guts turn in an instant, feet now picking up their pace with every step. He can’t lose you. Not you, the light of his life. Not when you are the only ray of sunshine in this rotting hell. What the hell did he do? The fact that he even raised his voice at you is unforgivable.

Finally, his fingers grab the door that leads to your shared bedroom, finally he’s able to make up for his mistakes of today-

His eyes widen in sheer horror.

You’re gone.

Right there where your head should rest, there’s absolutely nothing.

Panic starts rising up his chest, forces his heart down his throat.

Did you leave?

He yanks out of your shared room, eyes roaming around each and every corner of your estate. But you aren’t there. You aren’t here.

“My lady is at the love hashira’s estate.”

Sanemi darts up immediately, greeted by the oh so familiar voice of your personal crow.

“Is she fine, why did she-“

“With all due respect, I suggest you to control yourself before making any more insensitive comments to my lady-“

“Who the hell do you even think you are you-“

“Your earlier spoken words really troubled her and my lady certainly does not deserve that.”

Without another word, your crow disappears into the darkness of night again.

Sanemi swallows hard. Fuck, did he really hurt you that badly? He never wanted you to feel bad, never wanted to hurt you. Damn, he only wanted to show Genya and that Kamado boy their places. It shouldn’t have hit you. Out of all people, why did he have to hurt you?

“I need to tell her”, he mumbles under his breath before dashing towards the love hashira estate.

-at Mitsuri’s-

“I can’t believe Shinazugawa said something like this to you, (y/n)! You are super far away from being dumb, after all! Here, eat another pancake and stay as long as you want.”, Mitsuri babbles while handing you another plate.

Your dry eyes are barely able to stay open any longer. All the grief, explaining, fighting and crying did apparently really wear you out. Good for you Mitsuri’s estate is near by and you just know she’ll always open her arms for you.

“Thank you so much for taking me in, Kanroji. I really don’t deserve your kindness”, you sniffle.

“You have to be joking, (y/n)! It’s my duty as your friend to be there for you anytime you need me! And also, I-”

Three violent knocks on Mitsuri’s wooden door almost send you over the edge. It’s past after midnight, the time closer to the morning than evening. Who would knock on Mitsuri’s door this late at night?

“Do you think that’s a demon?”, you mutter in horror, both pairs of eyes set on the door.

“I don’t think so. Let’s see!”

Before you’re able to stop Mitsuri, she rips open the door.

And reveals no other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Tears start swelling up your eyes in an instant when a flood of memories crushes you all over again. Just a few hours ago, your husband made very clear that he doesn’t want to see you again anytime soon. How did he find out that you’re here?

“(y/n), can we…have a talk?”, he mumbles with icy voice.

“Do you want to leave me?”, you blurt out.

“What?”

Is that really how you feel, what you think of him? That he’ll turn his back on you after a fight? He did say all those nasty things to you, though.

“I think I’m going out and…cook!”, Mitsuri announces while sprinting out of the door, leaving you alone in the room with all that tension and him.

Him, the man you love more than anything else in this world. And also him, who broke your heart like he never did before.

“You have to be kidding me”, Sanemi mutters under his breath.

You turn away before you lose your composure completely.

“Why are you here, Sanemi?”

“Do you really think I’m here to dump you!? You, my pregnant wife!? You can’t be fucking serious about that!”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself surrounded by his usual so comforting arms that now hurt like daggers against your skin.

“Please, let me go, I can’t do this ri-“

“(y/n), please.”

His suffocated voice forces your eyes to dart upwards.

Instantly, your heart drops to the floor.

Is this really your husband, crying against your shoulder while pressing your body against his?

“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve said, I’m sorry for making you feel this way. I’d never leave you, not when I’m even lucky for calling you mine. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just…I just can’t stand them…”

“Sanemi…”

“And I get that I don’t deserve you and that I’m a jerk for hurting you. I know you could’ve had every man you wanted-“

“Sanemi!”, you snap at him, holding onto his face tightly.

“But you’re the one I want”, you finally cry out.

“But your words hurt me. Is this really how you feel about me? Do you really think I’m a burden?”

“I was out of my fucking mind for saying that to you! You’re my blessing, my everything, the sunshine in this rotting hell. You’re…You’re my wife, right?”

That innocent look on his now tear-soaked face runs shivers down your spine, reminds you that even though he acted out today, this man is still the Sanemi Shinazugawa you fell in love with years ago.

“I am your wife”, you press out before a new wave of tears haunts you down.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). So so sorry”, he mutters again and again while kissing every tear away that escapes your eyes.

“And I’ll never talk to you like that again, I promise.”

“Will you promise to not treat Tanjiro and Genya like that ever again too?”

Sanemi shifts his weight underneath you, his orbs growing hard again. Was this too much to ask for? No. Even though you love Sanemi’s rough side as well, he simply can’t do something like this again. Not when you’re his wife, not when you are expecting his first very own child.

“I will. But only if these jerks leave me alone”, he grumbles before giving you a passionate kiss.

“That might be manageable. I want to go home now…”

“No problem, I’ll carry you-“

“You really don’t have to carry me-“

“Oh, but I sure as hell will.”

“HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU TWO! AND DON’T ACT LIKE A JERK AGAIN, SHINAZUGAWA!”

“Did you have to tell her everything?”

“She’s my friend, Sanemi. Of course I had to.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[chuluoyi]

✎ daddy-to-be

- gojo satoru x reader

in which you're worried about how he'd react to you carrying his baby

genre: fluff and comfort, mentions of pregnancy and dizzy spells

note: i feel soooo warm writing this *sigh* thank u anon who asked this!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"Gojo-sensei! Must we do this?"

"For real?!"

"Okaka..."

"Yoohoo! Hehehehe~"

You sighed at the sight of your tall paintbrush of a husband. Satoru was supposedly teaching his first years—Maki, Panda and Inumaki—and yet, from where you were standing, it looked more like he was bullying them into following his whims more than anything.

A kind reminder that… this silly man is the father of your unborn child.

He didn't know that you were pregnant yet, because you had discovered it just a few days ago and chosen to keep it a secret for the time being.

In theory, this was normal. You two were married and engaged in a high level of sexual activity—something Satoru made sure of—and therefore, conceiving a child was bound to happen sooner or later.

Admittedly, accepting the fact that you were carrying his baby wasn't as easy as you thought, even knowing that. You hadn't seriously talked about having kids, and sure, your husband might have just taken a young cursed boy Yuta into his care—and way before that, Megumi, but it wasn't the same with your own child. It can't be the same.

And not to mention that you two were jujutsu sorcerers. Where would raising a baby fit in this bloody, cursed world you lived in?

...and above all, as things stand now, does Satoru even want a baby?

You released another sigh as you walked away, but then your vision tipped and you had to grab the wall for support. Right, you hadn't even been feeling well these past few days. You got queasy easily, and you experienced sporadic bouts of vertigo too.

"Sensei?" Yuta's worried voice greeted you, and you forced yourself to remain upright. "Are you okay?"

"Ah, yes, I'm fine," you assured him with a smile.

"Should I get Gojo-sensei? You seem pale..."

"No, no, that's—"

"Ooh~ Wifey!"

You cursed his impeccable timing as the striking white hair of your husband came to view. A mischievous grin adorned his face, a bundle of sunshine and trouble as always, as he wrapped an arm around you.

"Don't you have to teach the second years? My pretty wife, you can't be slacking—"

His smile abruptly fell when you subconsciously leaned on him and he noticed your shallow breaths. Satoru promptly tightened his grip on you.

"Yuta," his tone had taken a sharper turn. "Go to the training grounds and train with the others. Class ends after that."

As Yuta nodded and proceeded on his way, he immediately turned to face you. "What's wrong?" he asked with genuine concern. "Are you not feeling well? Can you walk?"

"I'm fine," you insisted, even though the edges of your vision started to blur.

Satoru pursed his lips, and you could tell even with his blindfold on, he was staring at you hard. "Don't be stubborn. Come on, let's get you home."

In an instant, he teleported you back to your shared home, his arms securely under your knees. You didn't know when the dizziness started to ramp up, but you were sure to fall if he didn't have a secure grip on you.

"How long have you been feeling unwell?" he inquired as he carefully lowered you onto your bed.

Realizing there was no point in hiding it any longer, you squeezed your eyes shut as your head rested on the soft pillow. "...since this morning."

Satoru expressed his dissatisfaction with a grunt. "In that case, you shouldn't have gone to school. From now on, you're on leave."

He fussed over you—removing your shoes, fine-tuning the air conditioner, and ensuring you were snug in bed. "What is causing you to feel this bad? Is it something you ate? We had dinner together, and I feel perfectly fine..."

You raised your gaze to him just as he tore off his blindfold, his eyes locking with yours. The blue of his eyes scrutinizing and assessing you, and suddenly, you felt insecure as he quirked an eyebrow, seemingly suspecting something. “Is there something you aren't telling me?”

This is it. You couldn't keep this from him any longer. This was his child as much as yours, he had to know for you to be able to decide on the next steps.

You exhaled. "I'm… pregnant."

Silence. For the next five seconds, you could've sworn that Satoru held his own breath.

"Pregnant?" he repeated, stunned, widened cerulean marbles blinking several times. "You...?"

You sat up, reaching for your nightstand and retrieving the five pregnancy tests you had stashed in the drawer, handing them to him.

Satoru fixed his gaze onto the two red lines on the sticks, examining them and then shifting his eyes between you and them several times. You didn't dare to look at him, feeling your hands starting to shake and your gut twisting.

But contrary to your dread, before you could blink, he pulled you into his embrace. Your heart melted as he softly murmured, "Dummy, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I... I was worried. I didn't think I..."

He nuzzled into your neck, breathing in deeply. "Silly... I'm supposed to be your safe space. You can and absolutely should tell me these kind of things..."

A lingering fear persisted in your gut as you croaked out, "Are you... okay with it?"

Satoru snapped his head so quickly, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean—of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?"

You didn't know why, but his impromptu and steadfast declaration brought tears to your eyes.

"Stupid," he chided, his voice tinged with slight giddiness and overflowing fondness, and doubled with the wide grin on his face, you were starstruck. Holding your hand, he pressed a tender kiss on your knuckles, and then on the wedding band resting on your ring finger.

His sincere, warm eyes spoke volumes as he said, "You are my beautiful, lovely, and amazing wife. And now you're about to make me a daddy. Why wouldn't I be thrilled about that?"

You had given him love that saved him in countless ways, some of which you might not even realize. And now, you were about to gift him another piece of you to love—his own family to cherish. Satoru was convinced he couldn't love you more than he did in this moment.

You cried even harder, wiping your face sloppily as you pouted at him, voice clogged with tears, a mixture of relief and happiness overwhelming you. "Why are you so s-sweet? You're u-usually... such a menace..."

"Hey! That's slander! I'm always nice to you!" he protested with a mock frown, trying to lighten the mood.

Satoru brought you into his arms again, affectionately stroking your hair. His excitement was palpable as he chuckled gleefully at the very idea of becoming a father to a mini-him or you in a not-so-distant future.

With that sentiment in mind, he genuinely meant every word of what he softly uttered in your ear:

"I love you, sweetheart. And mark my words—with everything I have, I won't let anything happen to you or our baby… I swear it."