#the gifs might look worse than the ones on the other post and that's me not knowing how to deal with fatal journey being so dark and green

[br-disaster]

Nie Mingjue's Fatal Journey crying scenes appreciation post

There's no way I wouldn't make this post, but it ended up way longer than I intended.

Fighting with Huaisang

When is this man not tearing up?

This fight is so important for Huaisang's character development and the movie's themes, with Huaisang being ready to challenge and question the Nie ways and Mingjue doing his best to uphold those traditions and keep the peace through the only way he knows how.

But it's still hard to be challenged like this and to face the possibility that everything you've ever known might not be right, actually.

And this gif specifically is from the moment Huaisang questions if Mingjue even knows what they're there to fight and what this supposed great evil that will come to Qinghe if they fail to balance their blades even is. Mingjue has no answer, of course, I suppose he was only taught this and never had reason to question it.

But Huaisang is also talking about the disciples they already 'lost' at this point of the movie, and he says something along the lines of " You don't know anything, you only know how to bring them here to die" and that does it. Because it's both "you can't follow these rules blindly when they rely on sacrificing people" and "you've changed and I don't trust your judgement on these matters anymore".

And as he says it, Mingjue looks at their disciples and he sees the puppets for a moment. And Huaisang just questioned if the other disciples were really attacked by puppets.

So that's a big moment and Huaisang is right, of course, but he doesn't have a confirmation that this is the result of Mingjue's health deterioration yet, so he keeps pushing. And Mingjue doesn't really have a counter argument because he knows what's going on with him, but it must be very scary to hear it from the person you care about the most and realize just how much you're being affected.

(Actually, Mingjue has one counter argument and that is "Well, I am at least trying to do something while you're painting and living a carefree life", and he's not wrong either. Huaisang is right and rightfully harsh, but this is the first time he's being confronted with these difficult choices and all their family history. He can reflect on and question it, but his brother has been meking those hard decisions since he was 14, when did he ever had a break to question and change things?)

Which leads us to

The Talk

After seeing his brother sacrifice himself for him at the bridge, and then seeing Mingjue be so vulnerable and lost, that anger from their fight is gone. They can meet in the middle with "You are right, I wasn't thinking straight, this is not a long term solution and I've failed at changing our ways" and "It's not your fault, you did everything you could but you're not responsible for this situation" and it's very beautiful and heartbreaking.

Mingjue is so remorseful, both because he has condemned Huaisang to die with him and because he feels like he failed everyone and everything (even if he doesn't seem to know what he could have done differently to avoid all this).

And Huaisang's reaction in this scene is so calm it made me think this Huaisang is somewhat used to his brother displaying vulnerability around him. This isn't book NMJ with all his victories, this isn't a man who never let the Unclean Realm be conquered and who could afford to keep Huaisang far away from the war. This is a man who was attacked and subdued in his own home, who had to send Huaisang to the hands of the people who killed their father.

This Huaisang doesn't have reasons to see Mingjue as this unmovable force, he has seen Mingjue hurt and threatened and fearful; and he's now seeing him remorseful and defeated.

(I'm sure Mingjue telling Huaisang about the fact that he's dying and admiting his mistakes and insecurities is something new, especially considering their previous fight, but this Huaisang doesn't take it as a shock, because he knows his brother is only human and there's only so much he can handle. He even, like, explicitly says this)

And so he assumes this calm, reassuring and empathetic posture, because that's what his brother is asking for. And it's the most beautiful thing, Huaisang has so much love for him, so much empathy. And this is Mingjue's reaction to his brother's reassurance that it's okay if they have to die there:

I'm sure Huaisang is still processing Mingjue's "I only forced you to practice because I'll die soon", but he's so good at reassuring his brother.

Because Mingjue just told him "I am dying and I'll go as a failure" and Huaisang insisted "None of this is your fault and you did everything you could and more, and if I have to die here with you today, I don't regret a thing, and you shouldn't either".

There's no despair or anger that his brother is only telling him this now, there's only understanding and acceptance and so much love and they really knew what they were doing with this movie.

His people love him

Mingjue is so moved. He just admitted to Huaisang that he's not in peace with his accomplishments, or lack thereof; that he feels ashamed to face his ancestors, having done so little.

So I truly believe Mingjue doesn't consider himself worthy of this much trust and support. (And I can't ignore how this is tied to the Nightless City situation, where he led the men who trusted him with their lives to a dangerous situation and couldn't save any of them).

As we see in the confrontation at Jinlintai, that technically happens after this movie, that is still a very sensitive topic.

And here he has his loyal disciples saying they will follow him yet again, despite his previous 'failures'; just like Huaisang was ready to die with him. They have so much trust in him, and the way he's nodding a little here, just like he was nodding when Huaisang reminded him of everything he's done for their sect since their father died, is like he's convincing himself of it. That he can do this and he can do this right this time.

And yet

He fails again. And I don't even think he knows it was him who killed those disciples, like some people say. He doesn't need to because it doesn't matter. His men, who followed him till the end of the world, are dead again. And so is the hope he had of doing this one right thing before he dies.

Yes, he supressed the saber spirit like he had to, but they're still dead, all of them.

He falls apart, how could he not?

At some point I'm sure Huaisang his holding all his weight because he just gives up. There's only so much loss one can handle and that's way too much.

And look at the way Huaisang is watching him as he realizes something inside Mingjue shattered forever.

There's so much pain in this scene, it looks physically taxing and I hope people gave Wang Yizhou a break after he shot this. I know it's his job and he's phenomenal at it, but this has to mess with your head a little.

And hey, it's a Huaisang crying scene as well. CQL Huaisang only really cries twice. First he watches his brother have a mental breakdown in his arms after unknowingly killing his own disciples; and then as he watches his brother qi deviate and die, while unable to do anything to either stop or comfort him.

(And a lot of people said there's no hesitation on Huaisang's part when he rushes to his brother's aid when Mingjue is hurt on this post's notes, and that's true for book Huaisang too, because he runs towards Mingjue as he is qi deviating, gets hurt in the process, and still keeps calling for him, which makes CQL's decision to have JGY holding him back kind of cruel, tbh, there's not a Huaisang who would run from a hurting Mingjue regardless of the risks

But at least we have this scene.)

And that's it, I guess. There's nothing uplifting to say about this, really. He just went through a lot and kept shouldering everything until he couldn't anymore. I just wish book NMJ had gotten to receive the same love and comfort and acceptance from NHS before he died, I wish he had been able to tell his brother what was actually happening, but thats kind of the purpose of this movie, so I'm just very grateful that it exists.

It's like that post says, it didn't change anything but the love was there, you know? That's how this movie feels for me.

[solar-wing]

⚣ One Kent Was Enough 👦🏻

⚣👦🏻 A/N → You spoiled little brats got a damn near 40k word fic out of me! No complaints, EVER again. Also, if anyone remembers, I posted about doing something like this before when I got inspired by this post from @cipheress-to-k-pop. Hope you enjoy and thank you for your patience and support! WARNINGS: Canon-Typical Violence | Canon Divergence | Domestic Fluff | Angst & Fluff | Minor Conner/M'Gann mentions | Slight Enemies To Lovers trope | Implied Mpreg |

⚣👦🏻 Summary → Conner and Y/N had a very tense relationship; tense meaning there was rarely a moment the two could be in the same room without arguing. Their friends didn't see a future where they would ever be close, let alone cordial. But, a timely visit from some special individuals could end up changing things for the better? Or worse, depending on the perspective. Could the world actually be ending?

⚣👦🏻 Words → 39.4K

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 👦🏻

In the dimly lit garage hangar of Mount Justice, Batman, and Red Tornado stood solemnly by the ramp, awaiting the return of their young proteges from a mission that was purportedly successful, though marred by "minor complications," as Aqualad had cryptically reported. The exact nature of these complications remained unclear until the bio-ship's hatch door swung open, releasing a cacophony of shouts and arguments into the cool air of the hangar.

The first to disembark were Y/N and Conner, their heated argument escalating with each step they took from the ship. Their faces, illuminated by the harsh overhead lights, were twisted in frustration and anger—emotions that had clearly brewed long before the bio-ship touched down.

"You always undermine me, every single mission!" Y/N's voice echoed off the metal walls, his anger palpable. "With your encyclopedic brain, how can you not grasp the simple phrase 'I don’t need help'? Is English somehow the exception in your multilingual repertoire? Shall I translate it into Spanish? Russian? Swahili perhaps?"

Conner responded with equal venom, his voice low and menacing. "If you weren’t such a constant liability, maybe I wouldn’t need to intervene. And a 'thank you' might be nice, considering this is the fourth time this month I’ve had to bail you out."

As they continued their verbal duel, Batman and Red Tornado exchanged a glance, their expressions a mix of resignation and concern. The other team members exited the ship, their faces tense and weary, evidently disturbed by the ongoing conflict between their comrades.

"Report," Batman interjected, his voice cutting through the bickering with authoritative clarity.

"We neutralized Bane’s operation and apprehended him," Aqualad reported, maintaining a composed demeanor despite the slight twitch of irritation in his brow. "The mission was successful."

"Yeah, barely," Wally added, arms crossed, his tone dry. "He almost got away, thanks to Yin and Yang over there."

Aqualad shot Wally a sharp look, signaling him to tread carefully, but the damage was done. Batman’s gaze hardened, his attention now fully on the quarreling pair behind him.

"And what do you do besides scream like a monkey and throw tantrums?" Y/N shot back at Conner, his voice rising with each word. "If it weren’t for your so-called Kryptonian powers, you’d be less useful than my dog in a fight!"

"Don't compare me to a monkey," Conner growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "And last time I checked, these 'weak' Kryptonian powers kept your behind safe more than once. Like that time you hid behind me when those League of Shadow goons cornered you?" Conner retorted, his fists clenched at his sides, the veins in his arms bulging with restrained fury.

"You baffling monkey head, I was casting a spell, not hiding!" Y/N snapped, his aura crackling with magical energy, a clear sign of his escalating temper.

"A spell to boost your courage, perhaps? And stop calling me names," Conner growled, stepping closer until they were nose to nose.

"What are you going to do? Thrown another tantrum if I hurt your wee little pride?" Y/N taunted, floating a few inches off the ground to meet Conner’s height, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Enough!" Batman’s command reverberated through the hangar, silencing everyone. He swiftly positioned himself between Y/N and Conner, his presence alone demanding peace. Aqualad and Kid Flash pulled Conner back while Zatanna and Robin gently guided Y/N to the ground, their actions preventative.

"This is the third time your arguments have nearly jeopardized a mission," Batman stated coldly. "Resolve this conflict, or you’re both sidelined until you can act like professionals."

With a final, piercing glance at the two, Batman turned and strode towards the mission control room, Red Tornado following in his silent, measured steps. The rest of the team dispersed quickly, their looks of sympathy and frustration cast toward Y/N and Conner as they left.

Fuming, Y/N rounded on Conner. "This is all your fault!"

"How is this my fault? You’re the one who can't keep his mouth shut," Conner shouted back.

"You're the one who can't take a hint and leave me alone," Y/N countered, his aura flaring.

"Well, maybe if you weren't such a pain in the ass, I wouldn't have to intervene," Conner said, his voice low and dangerous.

"Oh, is that what you call it? Intervening? Because I'd call it something you tried to describe me as earlier with your self-projecting ass. And if you don't learn how to stay out of my way, I'll show you just how much of a pain I can be," Y/N threatened, his eyes glowing with unspent magic.

"Is that a threat?" Conner asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

"Oh, please, I wouldn't waste a threat on you. Your primate brain might not be able to understand it. But, it's definitely a promise," Y/N replied, his voice equally low as he turned away, his footsteps echoing in the empty hangar.

"Whatever," Conner muttered, turning and stalking off in the opposite direction.

As Y/N headed towards the showers, his mutterings continued, a stream of insults and grievances pouring out, unheard by all but Conner, who paused to listen with a heavy sigh before shaking his head and walking away.

The tension between Y/N and Conner had been growing for months, and their teammates were becoming increasingly concerned. The two had never seen eye to eye, but their animosity had recently reached new levels and now the rest of the team was beginning to suffer from it as well.

A couple of hours later, Zatanna and Y/N were deep in their studies in one of the library rooms at the base, surrounded by ancient texts and spellbooks. Y/N was particularly agitated, aggressively flipping through pages and muttering curses under his breath about Conner. This was typical following their arguments; Conner would withdraw and brood, while Y/N became irritable and quick to anger.

Their dynamic puzzled their friends and mentors. Despite claiming indifference toward each other, Y/N and Conner managed to elicit intense reactions from one another, more so than anyone else on the team. Initially, Y/N had been keen to form a bond with Conner, driven by an attraction he barely acknowledged. However, Conner’s apparent disinterest only fueled a series of confrontations, worsening their interactions over time.

As Y/N's frustration grew, Zatanna decided a break was needed. “Hey, I’m going to grab a snack. You want anything?” she asked, hoping to ease the tension.

“Conner’s head on a stake would be nice. If not, then apple juice, please,” Y/N half-joked, half-serious, not looking up from his spellbook.

Zatanna rolled her eyes at his melodramatic response and headed toward the lounge, where the mood was lighter. M’Gann was baking cookies, filling the room with a warm, inviting aroma. Dick and Wally were engaged in a video game, with Artemis spectating, while Kaldur was absorbed in a book.

Upon noticing Zatanna, M’Gann offered a spoonful of cookie dough. “Hey Zatanna, want to try my new recipe? I’m hoping it’ll cheer Conner up.”

“Sure, who would ever say no to free cookie dough?” Zatanna smiled, taking the spoon.

Artemis, overhearing the conversation, commented wryly, “M’Gann, you’re too good for him. I’d only bring back lawsuits for my exes.”

“We’re not exes!” M’Gann protested, a blush coloring her cheeks.

“So, you guys are still together?” Artemis raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing.

“No! Well—technically yes, but it’s complicated. We haven’t talked about it, but we haven’t broken up either. It’s just... things are different now. I’m not sure what we are. I mean, we’re not dating, but we’re not not dating. Does that make sense?"

"Not really, but whatever makes you happy," Artemis shrugged.

Zatanna offered her a sympathetic hand while washing the spoon in the sink. “Just give him some time. Where is Conner, anyway?”

“Either in the garage hangar or the training room, letting off some steam after his fight with Y/N,” Dick answered, his attention briefly diverted from the game.

M’Gann’s expression soured at the mention of Y/N, prompting Zatanna to add, “That’s why I’m out here. Needed a break from all the mumbled threats and angry huffs.”

“What were they arguing about this time?” Artemis inquired, genuinely curious.

“Who knows? Those two bicker so much, I doubt even they remember what starts it half the time,” Wally chimed in, his fingers busily working the game controller.

“But seriously, is it just me or is the tension between Y/N and Superboy getting worse?” Wally interjected, pausing the game.

“It’s not just you,” Dick replied, setting his controller aside. “They’ve been at each other’s throats lately.”

Wouldn't it be funny if everyone were currently thinking of a memory where Y/N was literally at Conner's throat, trying to choke him out? Not that that actually happened or anything.

...

Okay, it definitely did, but Batman definitely did not have to get Zatanna and Zatara to magically restrain Y/N from trying to suffocate the half-Kryptonian with his powers.

...

Okay, he definitely did.

“I thought they were past this,” Zatanna sighed. “I mean, it’s been a year since their first big fight, and things seemed to have calmed down. But now, it’s like they’re back to square one.”

“I just want to know why Conner always seems to pick fights with Y/N for no apparent reason,” Artemis pondered aloud.

Zatanna noticed M’Gann mixing her cookie dough with more force than necessary and decided to distance herself from the counter, eyeing the bits of dough that were escaping out of the bowl.

“True, but Y/N can be just as provocative. He gives as good as he gets, which only escalates their conflicts,” Kaldur observed, not looking up from his book.

“It’s like a vicious cycle with them. Last week, Y/N cast a spell on Conner during an argument at school just to shut him up—literally removed his ability to speak temporarily,” Zatanna recounted, shaking her head.

“Yikes,” Wally winced.

“Yeah. Thankfully, no one was around to see it or the damage caused to the hallway in the aftermath. They should feel lucky I was there to clean up their mess,” Zatanna frowned, recalling the incident.

“Why are they so hostile towards each other? They’re supposed to be teammates, not enemies,” Dick wondered.

“Maybe they’re secretly into each other and are too stubborn to admit it,” Wally joked, earning a pillow thrown at his head by Artemis.

“Wally, that’s not funny,” M’Gann chided, her expression darkening.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just kidding,” Wally apologized, raising his hands in surrender.

“Why hasn’t Batman done anything about their constant fighting? Surely, he’s noticed how disruptive it is,” Artemis asked, her tone exasperated.

“He has, and he’s given them multiple warnings, but they haven’t listened,” Kaldur responded.

“Well, hopefully, they’ll sort out their issues eventually. For the sake of the team, and their own sanity,” Dick sighed.

“Yeah, those two getting along? Might as well be a sign of the apocalypse,” Wally joked.

No sooner had he spoken than the room was suddenly engulfed in a brilliant, searing light that pulsed like a living thing. It expanded rapidly, washing over everything in sight with an overwhelming glow, casting sharp shadows and making it impossible to see more than a few inches ahead. Zatanna stumbled backward, instinctively reaching out for the edge of the counter, her knuckles whitening as she gripped it tightly while M'Gann covered her face with her arm and did her best to hold onto the counter.

It was an intense magical energy that felt thick, almost tangible, vibrating in the air as it intensified. Zatanna could feel it coursing through her, every hair on her body standing on end as the power surged from the epicenter while the others struggled to remain upright.

The force of the magic tugged at everyone, like an invisible hand trying to pull them closer to the blinding core of the disturbance. Papers flew off the table, books flipped open and fluttered their pages wildly, and the very air felt charged with potential—like the moment before a storm unleashes its fury. M’Gann’s telekinesis instinctively flared, her eyes glowing as she erected a weak barrier to keep the scattered kitchenware from hitting anyone. Dick dropped his controller and braced against the couch, feeling the gust of wind push against his frame, while Wally, ever the speedster, darted to the side and ducked behind Artemis, trying to shield her with his body.

“What the heck is that?!” Dick yelled out, though his voice was drowned out by the roaring sound that accompanied the light.

“I have no idea, but I’m not sticking around to find out,” Wally shouted back, grabbing Artemis and speeding her around to behind the counter where M'Gann was.

Zatanna, eyes squinting through the blinding light, reached out with her magic, trying to push against the force, but even her well-honed abilities struggled to contain it. It felt wild and potent—untamed, but also somehow new and pure, like a water source that never experienced the effects of pollution. “What is this?” she muttered through gritted teeth, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of sound and energy.

“Everyone, get down!” Kaldur ordered, shielding his eyes.

As the light grew in intensity, it became almost painful to bear. Everyone was holding on to something—whether a counter, a chair, or each other—bracing themselves against the sheer force of the phenomenon. It was as if the very fabric of reality was being stretched thin, ready to snap at any second. And then, just as quickly as it had started, the light dimmed, the energy receding, leaving the room eerily quiet. The gusts of wind ceased, and the magic that had filled the space dissipated into the air, leaving only the scattered remnants of their surroundings in disarray. Everyone stood frozen in place, breathless, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

The team slowly emerged from their various hiding spots, still shaken by the unexpected display of magic. Dick was the first to stand, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to clear the spots from his vision. “Can someone explain why we just got hit by a magical freight train?” he groaned, squinting at the mess left in the room.

“Is everyone okay?” Kaldur asked, breaking the silence.

“I think so,” M’Gann replied, her voice shaky.

“What the hell was that?!” Artemis demanded, her heart racing.

Meanwhile, Zatanna stood frozen, her gaze fixed on something no one else seemed to notice. In the midst of the scattered books and overturned chairs, three new figures now stood in the room, looking completely out of place and, oddly enough, not at all concerned by the chaos around them.

“Uh, guys…?” Zatanna started, trying to catch someone’s attention.

Kaldur frowned, inspecting the room as though he could assess what had just happened with logic alone. “That was magic. Though, I've never felt anything like it. That energy felt…different. More raw than what we’re used to,” he noted, his brows furrowed. “It wasn’t one of Zatanna’s spells, was it?”

“No, it definitely wasn’t me,” Zatanna responded absentmindedly, her eyes still trained on the three figures. “But seriously, guys…”

M’Gann, still rattled, glanced around the room at the damage. “Do you think it was a new villain attack? It didn’t feel like a typical threat, but—”

“I don't think it was an attack,” Kaldur interjected, his eyes narrowing as he tried to piece it all together. “At least, not in the conventional sense. The magic was too unfocused.”

“But, how could someone attack us here? It seems unlikely any villain would consider attacking here, knowing we know that they know about the Cave,” M'Gann added, clumsily repeating Wally's words from their first week in the Cave.

“No, but it isn’t the first time we were attacked here,” Artemis reminded her.

“Guys!” Zatanna said again, this time louder, but still no one paid attention.

Dick continued to rub his temples, his patience wearing thin. “Whatever it was, we need to figure it out fast. We can’t just wait for Batman to—”

“GUYS!” Zatanna practically shouted now, waving her hands wildly in the air.

“What?!” Wally finally turned, looking exasperated.

Zatanna pointed dramatically toward the three new presences in the room, who were standing in varying degrees of awkwardness and curiosity. One of them was casually flipping through a spellbook that had landed on the floor, seemingly unbothered by the team’s presence.

“Uh, guys… You see three random kids in the corner too, right?” Wally asked, bewildered.

Artemis, peering towards the corner, responded dryly, “Of course, genius. Why else would we all be looking that way?”

The one with the spellbook, seemingly the oldest, stood confidently in the center, observing with an amused smile as Wally and Artemis bickered. The second boy, positioned slightly behind, crossed his arms and frowned—a familiar gesture that sparked a sense of déjà vu among the onlookers. The youngest clung to the eldest’s hand, peering from behind with wide, apprehensive eyes at the array of new faces, a strong resemblance to someone they all knew catching Zatanna's attention.

“Uh...when did they get here?” Dick asked, blinking rapidly.

The one holding the spellbook glanced at the Boy Wonder, his bright, yet calculating smile like he knew you and everything about you with just one look. “Oh, we’ve been here for a while. Hope we didn’t interrupt anything.”

The rest of the team’s jaws dropped simultaneously.

Before anyone could react to the newcomers, the sound of loud, heavy footsteps reverberated through the space, and Conner barreled into the room. His usual brooding expression was replaced by a combination of panic and anger, his hands clenched into fists. "What the heck is going on in here?!" he demanded, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger.

As the Kryptonian burst into the room, the youngest boy's face lit up with recognition. “DADA!” he exclaimed, releasing the eldest's hand and sprinting towards Conner with surprising speed.

Conner, caught off guard, froze, his eyes widening as the child collided with his legs and wrapped his arms around him.

"Dada, dada, dada!" the little boy repeated, his voice muffled against the older man's leg.

"What the...?" Conner mumbled, his brain struggling to process the situation.

"Um, Conner, care to explain?" Dick asked, his confusion evident.

"Explain what?" Conner shot back, his eyes darting between the team and the child clinging to him.

The team's faces registered a mix of shock and slight amusement as Superboy, taken aback, tried to gently remove the enthusiastic toddler clinging to his leg. The boy's laughter filled the room as he attempted to shake him off—unsuccessfully.

“I wouldn’t do that,” the eldest boy advised calmly. “That’s his favorite thing to do when you get home from work. The harder you try and shake him off, the longer he’s going to hold on.”

Conner stopped moving, and the child’s grip loosened slightly but remained firm. Frustrated yet curious, Conner looked around at the bewildered faces of his teammates. “Whose kid even is this?” he asked.

"Yours, apparently," Wally snickered.

"Not funny, Wally. Now, whose is it really?" Conner replied, his tone laced with irritation.

“Um... dude, judging from that kid’s reaction and the fact they seem to know you more than anyone, I’m gonna make an educated guess and say he’s yours too,” Dick replied, his voice filled with astonishment.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Conner snapped, his frustration growing.

"Language," the eldest boy warned, his eyes narrowing.

"Sorry," Conner grumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly, feeling scolded in a way only someone else ever made him feel. Who the hell were these kids?

Conner’s confusion deepened as he looked down at the smiling boy and then at the other children. Upon closer observation, their similar features became slowly unmistakable now, making it increasingly difficult to deny the reality: he was indeed their father.

Where was Maury when you needed him?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Conner groaned as the boy began climbing him like a playground.

“Welp, might as well continue down this crazy train since we're at full speed. So if we've summarized that these three random kids that just appeared out of nowhere are our resident Kryptonian's offspring, then who's their mom?” Wally asked, his gaze sweeping toward the female members of the team.

Zatanna raised an eyebrow menacingly, challenging him to continue, while Dick glared disapprovingly at the implication. Artemis watched the exchange with an amused yet intrigued expression.

M’Gann stood up abruptly, her voice ringing with a mixture of excitement and certainty, “Hello, Megan! If they're Superboy’s kids, there’s only one logical explanation.”

“They’re all clones made in a lab too?” Wally suggested, which earned him a round of exasperated looks.

“No, Wally. I was going to say that if they’re Conner’s kids, then I must be their mom!” M’Gann exclaimed, flying over to the three boys. Conner, looking increasingly overwhelmed, watched silently as she approached the children with open arms.

“Hi, little guys. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m M’Gann, or Megan here on Earth, but you can call me Mom. What are your names?” she asked with a warm smile.

The boys exchanged looks, seeming to communicate silently before the eldest responded cautiously, “Uhm, hi. Don’t know how to say this without sounding mean, but—uhm...”

“You’re not our mom,” the boy behind him said bluntly.

Everyone cringed slightly as that statement hit M’Gann like a physical blow, her face a mixture of confusion and hurt. But before she could gather her thoughts to respond, the room’s attention was diverted by more footsteps, these lighter but just as quick.

“What in the world is going on out here? Do you wombats not understand I’m trying to meditate? And where is my apple juice?!” Y/N’s voice, gruff with irritation, cut through the tension.

The youngest boy, still clinging to Conner, pointed excitedly at Y/N. “Papa!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the suddenly silent room.

“Does anyone want to explain why this random child currently playing monkey bars on Conner just pointed at me and called me Papa?” Y/N asked, his surprise evident as he stared at the child reaching out to him.

The team exchanged stunned looks, each as speechless as the next while M’Gann displayed a blend of horror and anger, Conner’s embarrassment and irritation at the "monkey bars" comment clear.

The heavy silence was finally broken by Wally’s incredulous remark, “Oh my god, the world is gonna end.”

Everyone gathered in the living room, with Conner and Y/N positioned centrally, while their three unexpected young guests sat casually on the couch.

“Okay, let me go over this one more time, just to make sure I’m not missing anything,” Y/N began, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he eyed the two oldest children exchanging knowing looks before turning his attention back to the group. “You three are from the future and used a magic spell that you're claiming I taught you to come back in time because you wanted to meet your parents?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what we’re claiming,” the oldest affirmed.

“And you’re also saying that me and Conner are those parents?” Y/N gestured between himself and the Kryptonian, who was observing the children with a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

“Yep,” the boy replied confidently.

“LIAR!” Y/N’s voice boomed suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at the child. The sudden outburst caused a stir among his teammates.

“Y/N!”

“Dude!”

“What is wrong with you?”

The children merely covered the youngest brother’s ears, though the little one giggled, oblivious to the chaos. Even Conner shot Y/N a disapproving look, though that wasn’t unusual.

“What? He claims I taught him that spell—something I would never irresponsibly share with a child, especially one that could cause all of this! Plus, that spell isn’t even in my book,” Y/N defended himself, his exasperation causing sighs and head-shaking among the team.

“Really?! That’s the part you find hard to believe?” Wally interjected incredulously.

“What? You don’t think they’re from the future?” Y/N retorted.

“Uhm, how about the fact they’re claiming to be your kids?!” Dick countered, his disbelief evident.

“Oh, right. Yeah, that’s not hard to believe at all,” Y/N responded dryly, drawing stunned looks from everyone, particularly Conner and M’Gann.

“This must be some sort of test by Batman, trying to teach me and Conner a lesson. Seriously, me and him? Together? Don’t insult me,” Y/N scoffed, dismissing the idea as utterly preposterous.

Conner’s expression shifted from confusion to anger, a storm brewing behind his eyes. He wasn’t the only one offended by the remark.

“Hey! You shouldn’t talk about Dad like that!” the middle child yelled at Y/N, mirroring Conner’s growing irritation.

“And what are you going to do about it, little boy?” Y/N taunted, only to yelp in pain as a blast of heat vision singed his thigh. “Ow! Did this little gremlin just fry me with heat vision? How does he even have heat vision when you don’t?!”

The room fell into shocked silence as the oldest child stood, calmly walking over to Y/N and healing the burn with a wave of his hand, leaving no trace of the injury. His powers were undeniable, as was the ever-clear fact that these kids were exactly who they claimed to be.

“Dude, Dad told you not to use your heat vision on people,” the eldest scolded his younger brother.

“Yeah, well, Papa warned you about snooping through his spellbook, and look where we are now!” the middle child shot back, waving his arms animatedly at the chaotic situation around them.

“AH-HA! Told you!” Y/N exclaimed triumphantly, though most of the team just rolled their eyes at his stubbornness.

“Dude, you’re focusing on the wrong thing. One kid just blasted you with heat vision, and the other healed you with magic that looks a lot like yours,” one of the others pointed out.

“I know, but I proved my point, and that’s what matters,” Y/N replied, his tone a mix of vindication and annoyance.

“As you should,” the oldest child agreed, earning a wary glance from Y/N.

“Okay, how about we start this whole thing over,” Zatanna suggested, cutting through the tension. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured extra seats for Y/N and Conner to sit across from their children. “Let’s try introductions first, and then sort the rest out.”

As everyone repositioned themselves, the youngest child sprang from the couch and darted back to Conner, once again climbing him like a jungle gym.

“Not this again,” Conner groaned, clearly exasperated.

“Told you, it’s his favorite thing. He loves when you come home from work or pick him up from daycare. He also loves tickle fights,” the oldest explained, pointing to Y/N as the little one began poking playfully at Y/N’s side.

“Tickle, tickle…” the young boy giggled, his tiny fingers eliciting the faintest smile from Y/N, despite himself.

Zatanna and Artemis both cooed at the adorable sight, and even the rest of the team seemed to soften at the moment. M’Gann, however, couldn’t hide her discomfort. Abruptly, she left the room, her departure noted by all but especially by those who understood the depth of her feelings.

“So, about those introductions again?” Y/N said, redirecting attention back to the children, who were now all grinning at the prospect of formally meeting their parents.

Conner Kent Junior, or 'CJ' for short, was the oldest of the three future children. Before he was born, his father had embraced the tradition of naming children after oneself, opting for 'Junior' rather than 'The Second.' Surprisingly, Y/N—usually stubborn six days a week and double on Sundays—had agreed to this tradition. Present-day Y/N found it hard to believe he’d relent on anything, especially to Conner. The idea that they were a couple in any reality was hard enough to swallow, let alone the fact that he would so easily give in to Conner’s whims.

Yet, here was CJ—living proof of their future union. The boy was a spitting image of Conner: the same eyes, the same jawline, and the same stoic demeanor in displeasing situations, so much so that one might mistake him for a clone. However, certain subtle traits also revealed the undeniable truth that Y/N was his other biological parent, such as the shared hair texture and, of course, the child’s inherited magical abilities.

But beyond CJ’s physical resemblance to Conner, his personality was a carbon copy of Y/N’s. His attitude, his way of speaking, and even his mannerisms echoed his magical parent so closely that it was both amusing and slightly disconcerting. Apparently, in the future, Y/N had become a powerful wizard—capable of rivaling entities and deities—which CJ mentioned with a hint of pride that threatened to inflate Y/N’s ego even more than usual.

CJ’s adeptness at magic was remarkable, something that nearly rivaled his father’s power. Zatanna had felt the raw and potent magic when they first arrived, and CJ explained that his abilities were tied to ancient magic Y/N had encountered in the past—or was it the future? It was confusing, but either way, it was clear this magic was the reason CJ and his siblings even existed in the first place. The revelation left both of his parents intrigued—and for Y/N, particularly, nervous.

CJ and his brothers had used his magical skills to travel back in time, doubting the stories they’d been told about their parents' rocky relationship. According to their Aunt Zatanna, their parents had not always been the most harmonious duo, and the kids wanted to see it for themselves. Zatanna had told them tales of Y/N taking away Conner's voice in the middle of an argument or using magic to strangle him (briefly) after Conner made a snarky comment about his weight.

"Isn't it ironic that Dad's the one with the temper, but Papa's the one prone to murderous behavior? It's always the quiet ones," CJ had mused with a smirk. "But we wanted to see it for ourselves. You wrote the spell that got us here, but you wouldn’t teach it to me until I was older, or unless it was absolutely necessary."

"Well, that explains why I don’t have a spell like that in my book. But you’re admitting that I didn’t teach you the spell and you went behind my back?" Y/N raised a brow.

"No, I’m not admitting anything. I’m just saying that you didn’t teach me the spell, but you did write it," CJ replied casually.

"That’s not the point, and you know it," Y/N huffed, crossing his arms.

"I’m not saying anything without my lawyer," CJ shot back, barely hiding a smirk.

The quick wit and smart attitude were unmistakably Y/N’s influence. Despite CJ’s striking resemblance to Conner, his magical aptitude and sarcasm were all Y/N—he was clearly his father's son.

Colin, the middle child, was the wild card of the bunch. While CJ bore Conner’s serious demeanor, Colin had inherited Y/N’s mischievous streak and free-spirited nature. He had his father’s hair and eye color, but he possessed all of Conner's powers and temperament. He could also perfectly replicate his father's neutral, glaring expression—his signature stoic face.

The earlier heat blast Colin had unleashed during their arrival was a clear testament to the volatile mix of his genetic heritage. Colin’s abilities, however, had raised a lot of questions, especially since he seemed to have powers that Conner didn’t. Before CJ could elaborate further on Colin’s abilities, Zatanna had quickly stepped in, cautioning them against discussing too much about the future. Revealing too much could damage the timeline—and Y/N certainly didn’t need any more ego boosts.

Colin had also made his feelings about M’Gann very clear when he spoke of a mysterious "green lady" trying to separate his parents, a sentiment that left everyone silently grateful that M’Gann had left the room.

The youngest sibling, Camden Kent, was a perfect blend of his parents. His dark hair and eyes were from Conner, while his skin tone clearly came from Y/N. Though Camden didn’t display any powers yet, his cheerful personality and playful nature brightened any room he was in.

Though there was an undeniable charm to the whole situation, it didn’t make it any less complicated. Y/N had been right about one thing—the spell the kids had used wasn’t supposed to be in their hands. Colin had graciously snitched on his older brother, explaining how CJ had managed to get his hands on the spell by sneaking into Y/N's study while he and Conner were distracted.

"It was all CJ! Papa was making dinner and yelling at Dad about being overprotective, and something about not wanting a repeat of the Phantom Zone thing. CJ snuck into the study, took the spell page, and we used it in his room. I think they heard us, though, 'cause before we zapped out, I heard them rushing upstairs," Colin had said smugly.

Y/N had chuckled, "Me mad at Conner for getting in my way and trying to play hero? Sounds about right."

Conner’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides as Y/N’s words hit a nerve. The jab about playing hero had always been a sore spot, and hearing it now—especially in front of their potential future children—only made the sting sharper.

"Are you serious right now?" Conner growled, his blue eyes narrowing as the tension in the room escalated.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "What? Did I lie?"

"You always do this," Conner bit out, stepping closer. "Acting like you’re above needing help. I was trying to keep you safe—"

"Safe from what? Myself?" Y/N scoffed, crossing his arms. "I can handle things without you jumping in and messing everything up. If you’d stop being such a—"

"Hey!" Zatanna’s voice sliced through the rising tension. "Reirrab." With a wave of her hands, a glowing barrier appeared between them. "Can we not start another fight in front of the kids? I know this is overwhelming, but we need calm heads here."

Conner glared at Y/N but stepped back. Y/N, though clearly annoyed, shifted his stance and rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," Y/N muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Before Conner could respond, a sharp hiss from the couch interrupted them. "You didn’t have to rat me out, you little brat," CJ growled at Colin, who grinned smugly.

"You’re the one who got caught, not me," Colin taunted, sticking out his tongue.

CJ opened his mouth to argue, but a sharp look from Y/N silenced him. "Enough," Y/N said firmly, making both kids sink into their seats.

The room, now charged with tension from the glowering parents and their children was silent. That is until  Wally decided to speak up.

"Man, it’s like watching a mini version of you two go at it," he snickered, glancing at the kids. "Like father, like son—times two."

Dick raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Yeah, except I always thought Conner would be the one laying down the law. Not Y/N."

Wally laughed. "Right? Seeing Y/N as the bad cop—"

"Are you kidding?" Artemis cut in, crossing her arms. "Y/N’s always been a strict little stick-in-the-mud. I’m not surprised."

Y/N, who had been pinching the bridge of his nose, finally looked up. "Excuse me, I have always been the responsible one. Conner’s the one who probably thinks letting kids jump off roofs builds character."

Conner scowled. "I don’t see why not. They need to know how to fall."

"Typical," Y/N shot back, grinning sarcastically. "And you wonder why I don’t leave you alone with the kids."

"He's right," CJ chimed in.

"Yeah, Papa never lets you watch us alone for more than an hour after that one mission," Colin added matter-of-factly.

"See! And they said I didn’t know how to make smart decisions," Y/N replied dryly.

Conner sighed in frustration. "I can’t believe this. You’re blaming me for something that hasn’t even happened yet."

"Well, maybe if you weren’t so reckless, I wouldn’t have to worry," Y/N snapped.

"Reckless?" Conner scoffed, his voice rising. "You’re the one always running off and putting yourself in danger!"

Before the bickering could reignite, Zatanna cleared her throat. "Look, we’re not here to debate your future parenting dynamics. We need to figure out how to get these kids back to their timeline."

CJ, who had been fuming after Colin’s betrayal, hesitated. "Uh, about that…"

Y/N narrowed his eyes. "What now?"

The oldest child shifted nervously. "There’s kind of a problem with that."

Wally grinned. "What? You didn’t plan for the return trip?"

CJ flushed. "No, we did! But…"

"But what?" Conner asked, his patience wearing thin.

Colin piped up, "CJ lost the spell page."

All eyes snapped to CJ, who raised his hands defensively. "I didn’t lose it! I just… may not have held onto it tightly enough."

Y/N groaned, rubbing his temples. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

"Yep, definitely your kid," Dick commented with a chuckle.

Zatanna’s lips twitched. "Let me guess, you didn’t memorize the spell before casting it?"

CJ shifted uncomfortably. "We didn’t think we’d need it right away. I was focused on making sure it worked, not the clean-up."

"You didn’t think that maybe—just maybe—you’d need a way to get back?" Y/N asked, his exasperation evident.

"I was going to figure that part out later!" CJ snapped, sounding just as defensive as Y/N usually did when backed into a corner.

Conner crossed his arms. "This sounds familiar."

Y/N shot him a withering look. "Not helping."

Artemis laughed. "So what’s the plan now? We can’t keep these mini-you’s hanging around."

Zatanna nodded. "I can try to reverse the spell, but it’ll take time. I’ll need to gather some materials and maybe consult our spellbook. If future Y/N made it, it shouldn’t be too difficult."

"Hey!" Y/N protested, his ego bruised.

"She’s right," CJ admitted, earning a glare from Y/N.

"So we’re stuck with them," Y/N sighed.

"Hey, we’re right here!" Colin interjected indignantly, crossing his arms. "And it’s not our fault! CJ’s the one who messed it up!"

"Quit throwing me under the bus you ill-brained bug," CJ hissed, his narrowed eyes practically throwing daggers at his younger brother. "Don't call me names! And you did lose it," Colin shot back, his tone equally venomous.

"Enough," Y/N said, eyes hard. "No fighting."

Conner, meanwhile, looked at Camden, still hanging off his arm. The situation was far from what he’d imagined for his future. A family? Kids? He had never pictured it. And Y/N… he never thought they’d become something together. Yet, here they were.

"I'll start working on the reversal spell. In the meantime, we'll have to find a place for the kids to stay," Zatanna continued, ignoring the wounded expression on Y/N's face.

"They’ll stay with us," Conner stated, his tone firm.

Y/N’s brow shot up. "Excuse me? Us?"

"Yes, us. Did I stutter?"

CJ and Colin exchanged quick glances before Colin smirked, nudging his older brother. "Did Dad just use one of Papa's lines against him?" he whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. CJ grinned, nodding. "Yeah, and somehow he's still breathing. Must be a miracle."

The room erupted into soft laughter, with even Wally doubling over in amusement. Artemis gave Conner a playful nudge, her grin wide. "You’re playing a dangerous game, Kent."

Conner and Y/N stood there, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. Conner clenched his jaw while Y/N crossed his arms, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

"Okay," Kaldur intervened, saving them from further embarrassment. "We need to focus on getting them home. Zatanna, you and Y/N can both do research together. CJ can help since he's the one who used it so he may remember some things from it."

Zatanna smiled faintly. "Sounds good. I’m gonna look into a few other things first, though. In the meantime, you might want to prepare yourself for a lot of questions, especially from Batman."

Conner groaned, clearly dreading the inevitable debrief. "Great."

"I have nothing to answer for," Y/N retorted. "I didn’t bring a bunch of kids from the future into the past."

"Maybe not, but you made them," Conner shot back.

"Oh, please. Like you didn’t have a hand in that."

"More than a hand," Artemis snickered.

CJ narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you mean by that?"

The entire room, as if rehearsed, answered in unison, "Nothing."

Y/N and Conner had no choice but to let the kids bunk in their rooms until they could figure out how to replicate the spell and send them back to the future. The children, after all, had vehemently refused to sleep in the lounge. CJ had opted to stay with Y/N, while Colin chose Conner's room. Camden, at first, didn’t show a preference, but eventually made his decision clear by reaching for Conner. Despite wanting to wipe the smug grin off Y/N’s face, Conner gave in without much protest.

However, Y/N found no peace, especially with CJ bombarding him with questions about their relationship:

"Have you and Dad gone on a first date yet?"

"No."

"Have you guys kissed yet?"

"No—I... That’s a grown folks' question."

"So, when do you think you'll go on a first date?"

"Do you have an off button?"

"Do I look like a toy from Target to you?"

"Damn, you really are my son."

"Bad word."

"Sorry."

"Why do you guys sleep in separate rooms? You have your own room together back home."

"Uh... what did I say about grown folks' questions?!"

The questions seemed endless. Despite Y/N growing increasingly tired, he found himself surprisingly unbothered. Normally, anything that disturbed his rest would drive him mad, but for some reason, he found it hard to get annoyed by CJ’s relentless curiosity. Perhaps he understood. If Y/N were in the kid’s shoes, he’d probably be asking a million questions too.

"Hey, Papa?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Does it ever end?

"Sure, kiddo," Y/N sighed, staring up at the rocky ceiling of his bedroom.

"What's the deal with you and Dad?"

Y/N froze, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as CJ’s innocent question hung in the air. He shouldn’t have been surprised, especially considering how sharp the kid was. This conversation was bound to happen at some point—though he would’ve preferred it to be later. He didn’t even know the answer himself.

What was the deal between him and Conner? That was the real question. The relationship was complicated, to say the least, and it was certainly not something Y/N was eager to explain to his future son. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips as he shifted on the bed, trying to buy himself some time. “That’s a... big question, kiddo.”

CJ, lying on his side, propped his head up on his hand, eyes wide with curiosity. “Yeah, but you guys love each other, right?”

Y/N gulped. Of course, the kid would jump straight to the heart of the matter. How was he supposed to answer that without messing up CJ’s perception of the future—or worse, letting his complicated feelings for Conner bubble to the surface in front of a child? He didn’t want to lie, but the truth... well, the truth was messy. And kids didn’t handle messy well.

“Well...” Y/N began, stalling as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Love is... complicated.”

CJ’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean by complicated?”

Y/N winced. Damn, these kids ask too many questions. He shifted again, trying to figure out how to tiptoe through this conversation. “I mean, sometimes people have... feelings for each other, but they don’t always know how to deal with them right away. Like, your dad and I... we argue a lot because we’re still figuring things out.”

CJ tilted his head, clearly not convinced. “But Auntie Z said you guys argue a lot in the future too. She said you love each other, but you’re both kinda... stubborn.”

Y/N pinched the bridge of his nose. Zatanna, I’m going to kill you. He sighed deeply, turning his head to look at CJ. “Yeah, that sounds about right. We’re both pretty stubborn. And when two people are like that, it takes them longer to... you know, get on the same page.”

CJ’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “So you do love each other!”

Y/N’s stomach flipped. He wanted to deny it, to downplay everything. But looking at CJ’s expectant face, he realized he couldn’t outright lie. He’d never been great at lying anyway. “It’s... complicated, like I said.”

CJ groaned, clearly frustrated with that answer. “You keep saying ‘complicated,’ but what does that even mean? Do you want to be with Dad?”

Y/N tensed, his heart racing. Okay, this is too much. “Uh... I think we should save this conversation for when you’re a little older, kid. Like, maybe a lot older. Or, you know, when you’re back in your timeline and it’s Future Me’s problem.”

CJ gave him an unimpressed look. “That’s a cop-out answer.”

Y/N snorted despite himself. “I... Who taught you that?”

“You did.”

“Of course I did,” Y/N muttered, shaking his head.

CJ wasn’t letting this go, and Y/N knew it. Y/N sighed, glancing back up at the ceiling, emotions stirring up that he wasn’t prepared to deal with. It wasn’t just complicated—it was a mess, a tangled web of miscommunication, stubbornness, and unspoken feelings that spanned the years since he joined the Team. He thought back to when he first arrived, how Dr. Fate had sensed the raw potential in him and demanded that he go under the Justice League's protection. Y/N didn’t have much of a choice back then, and neither did the Team when they were told he’d be joining.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. Y/N got along with everyone easily, even found a mentor in Zatanna and Zatara who was still being used as a host by Dr. Fate which is how he found him in the first place.

 But Conner? Conner was different. It was as though the Kryptonian had built a wall the size of Metropolis between them, remaining cold and indifferent despite Y/N’s attempts to connect. Y/N hadn’t expected to become best friends overnight, but the sheer lack of acknowledgment hurt more than he let on. He remembered how Conner would barely look in his direction, like Y/N didn’t exist, even though he treated everyone else like family.

It was confusing, especially when Y/N noticed how Conner always positioned himself near him during missions—ready to intervene but never willing to share a word afterward. That subtle protectiveness should’ve been reassuring, but it drove Y/N mad. If Conner didn’t care, why hover around him like some kind of silent guardian?

After months of trying, Y/N finally gave up. He mirrored the cold treatment, stopped reaching out, and focused on the rest of the team. But then, something shifted. The moment Y/N stopped trying, Conner started. The once silent indifference turned into sharp comments and antagonistic behavior. It was like Conner needed to get a rise out of him, and no one could push Conner’s buttons the way Y/N could.

Pretty soon, they were constantly at each other's throats (sometimes literally), bickering over the smallest things. Everyone else just rolled their eyes and let them sort it out, but the tension between them was palpable.

Looking back now, Y/N wondered if something had always been simmering beneath the surface, something neither of them knew how to admit. Maybe Conner’s way of dealing with whatever feelings he had was to push Y/N away, to lash out. Y/N wasn’t sure what scared him more—the idea that Conner never cared or the possibility that he cared too much and didn’t know how to handle it.

And now, faced with a future version of himself that had apparently figured it out, Y/N was stuck in a mess of emotions that defined their present. The thought made his chest tighten, and he shook his head, trying to push it aside. He wasn’t ready to untangle all of that just yet, especially not with CJ watching him, waiting for answers.

He glanced over at the kid, still staring at him with a mix of confusion and determination.

“Look, CJ, it’s... complicated,” Y/N repeated, knowing it was a weak excuse. “Your dad and I have a lot of history, and a lot of that is... well, not great. It’s a work in progress.”

The room fell silent for a moment, and Y/N hoped the interrogation was over. He closed his eyes, trying to relax, but CJ’s voice cut through the peace again.

“So... if you’re not together yet, does that mean I could mess it up by being here?” CJ’s voice was quieter this time, tinged with genuine concern.

Y/N’s heart sank. He hadn’t expected that. “Hey, no, no—nothing like that,” he said quickly, turning to face CJ. “You being here isn’t going to mess anything up. Don’t ever think that.”

CJ’s big eyes looked up at him, full of uncertainty. “But what if Colin, Camden, and I being here changes things? What if you and Dad aren’t meant to be together because of us? I don’t want to mess up your future.”

Y/N felt a pang in his chest. He could see how much CJ cared, how much this meant to him. The kid didn’t want to lose the family he had, and Y/N couldn’t blame him. Hell, Y/N didn’t know what the future held between him and Conner, but seeing CJ so worried made him realize just how important that future was—to these kids, at least.

He placed a hand on CJ’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. “CJ, listen. No matter what happens, you three aren’t going to change what’s meant to be, okay? Whether your dad and I figure things out now or later, that’s up to us. But you don’t need to worry about it.”

CJ’s expression softened slightly, but he still seemed unsure. “You promise?”

Y/N hesitated for a second, then nodded. “I promise.”

CJ studied his father for a long moment, then let out a sigh of relief and flopped back onto the bed. “Okay, if you say so.”

Y/N smirked, feeling like he’d defused the situation—until CJ spoke again.

“But seriously, you guys need to hurry up and kiss. You’re taking forever.”

Y/N groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my god, please stop.”

CJ giggled, clearly pleased with himself. “Well, it’s true. You’re way more lovey-dovey in the future. Like, gross sometimes.”

Y/N pulled his hands away from his face, narrowing his eyes at the boy. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

CJ shrugged, a mischievous grin on his face.

Y/N rolled his eyes, turning back to the ceiling. He tried not to think about the fact that his future self was apparently a lot more affectionate with Conner, or the fact that CJ was clearly comfortable with it.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across his cheeks. This was going to be a long night.

Just as the eleven-year-old finally appeared to be settling down, a knock at Y/N’s door pierced the growing calm. He couldn’t mask the annoyance in his grunt as he called out for whoever was there to enter.

The door opened to reveal Conner, struggling to soothe a fussy Camden, with Colin in tow. Both Kryptonians looked exhausted, their matching bed-heads and disgruntled grimaces completing the picture.

Y/N was caught off guard by the endearing yet disheveled sight of them—Conner in his casual home attire, with Colin standing by his side like a shadow, and Camden, a perfect blend of Y/N’s and Conner’s features, in his arms. The scene felt surprisingly right.

“He won’t stop crying and fussing,” Conner explained, his voice tinged with fatigue. “I’ve tried everything. I think he wants to sleep with you.”

Taking Camden into his arms, Y/N immediately felt the toddler relax. “What’s up, buddy? Is your Daddy keeping you up with all his grumbling?”

“I didn’t do anything! He was fine half an hour ago, then he woke up crying. When I tried to calm him down, he just got fussier and started calling for his 'Papa’ over and over.”

CJ, from his spot on the bed, chimed in, “He probably had a nightmare. It’s hard for him to go back to sleep afterward.”

“And how do we get him back to sleep?” Conner asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“He usually sleeps in bed with you,” CJ answered.

“He was already doing that, and it didn’t help,” Conner replied, clearly exhausted.

“With both of you,” CJ clarified.

Y/N and Conner exchanged stunned looks, the suggestion hanging awkwardly in the air. “Uh, are you sure there’s no other way to calm him down?” Y/N asked, his voice laced with hesitation as he and Conner avoided each other’s gaze.

“Nope. So, scoot over and make some room,” Colin said, settling the matter with a tone that brokered no argument. With a reluctant shuffle, Y/N and CJ made room on the bed, both Y/N and Conner still clearly uncomfortable with the closeness but willing to do what was needed for the youngest Kent.

As they settled into an awkward silence, Camden, now nestled between them, began to quiet down, his sniffles subsiding as he felt the reassuring presence of both his parents. The soft glow of the nightlight spell Y/N conjured cast gentle shadows across the room, softening the edges of the tense atmosphere.

“Well, ain’t this cozy,” Y/N quipped, trying to cut through the awkwardness with a bit of humor. Conner just grunted in response, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, clearly wrestling with the intimacy of the situation.

CJ and Colin, seated toward the middle of the bed between their parents’ legs, watched the scene with knowing looks. “You guys are really weird about this,” CJ commented, shaking his head. “You do this all the time back home.”

Conner sighed, his gruff tone betraying his discomfort. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly 'back home,’ kid.”

CJ shrugged, then finally settled down, his eyes growing heavier as the night’s events took their toll. Conner, still visibly uncomfortable, shifted slightly, turning on his side to face away from Y/N, while Y/N remained on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The room fell into a profound silence, the only sounds being the gentle breathing of the boys as they finally succumbed to sleep.

In the dim light, Y/N and Conner lay awake, each lost in their own thoughts. The physical closeness, necessitated by Camden’s need for comfort, forced them into a proximity neither had anticipated—at least not under these circumstances. As the minutes dragged into hours, neither spoke. The air between them was thick with confusion, unresolved tension, and an undeniable sense of familial bond that neither could quite embrace nor deny.

Y/N’s mind raced with a mix of future possibilities and present discomforts. He turned his head slightly, glancing at Conner’s back and noting the tension in his shoulders. The fact that they could be a family—a real family, with laughs, fights, bedtime stories, and morning cuddles—felt absurd. Yet, somehow, it also felt right, in a way that scared him.

It was a future that felt like a dream, one so vivid during sleep but absurdly distant upon waking.

Conner, for his part, was equally conflicted. The physical presence of Y/N so close yet so far in spirit was jarring. He was used to tackling problems head-on, not lying silently next to them. The warmth from Y/N’s body, the sound of his breathing, and the soft rustle of sheets each time he moved—all served as acute reminders of what could be—a future intertwined with Y/N, a man he had known as a teammate but never as something more.

As Camden shifted in his sleep, mumbling softly and curling closer to Y/N, Conner let out a soft sigh. This was what family felt like—messy, uncomfortable, yet filled with unexpected moments of tenderness.

Fate was a cruel thing to dangle something so perfect right next to him, knowing that once this night was over, it would be back to reality.

The night stretched on, and though sleep tugged at their eyelids, both Y/N and Conner resisted, each caught in their own whirlwind of thoughts. They remained awake, guardians of the quiet peace that had settled over their children, protectors of a future still unwritten.

Finally, as the first hints of dawn crept through the curtains, signaling a new day, Y/N and Conner allowed themselves a moment of rest. Their eyes closed, not out of comfort with each other, but from sheer exhaustion. The sun would rise on two men still unsure of their path forward, but for now, they were bound by a shared responsibility and an unspoken commitment to the well-being of the children who had started the process of slowly bringing them together.

The next morning, Y/N and Conner were greeted by three simultaneous realizations. The first was the peculiar sensation of being surrounded on all sides—Y/N found CJ and Camden clinging to him like koalas, while Conner awoke to the unpleasant surprise of a foot in his face and a toe nearly up his nose, courtesy of Colin.

The second realization came when they noticed how close they had ended up to each other during the night, their bodies naturally gravitating together as if seeking warmth in the pile of kids nestled between them. It was a proximity neither had planned for, yet somehow, in the night’s deep silence, it didn’t feel… wrong.

Didn’t stop them from trying to scoot away from each other, though.

The third and most jarring realization came when the sound of cooing and giggling shattered the morning calm. Y/N blinked his eyes open, adjusting to the bright lights, only to see Zatanna, Artemis, Dick, and Wally gathered at the doorway, barely containing their laughter, smartphones in hand.

“What the—” Y/N started, his voice groggy and laced with confusion.

“Morning, sunshine!” Dick greeted with a smirk, snapping pictures as quickly as possible. “Don’t you all look nice and cozy?”

“It’s not every day we see such a picturesque family moment,” Zatanna added, her tone dripping with mock sweetness.

Conner, fully awake now, grimaced as he gently removed Colin’s foot from his face. “Can you guys not?” he muttered, trying to salvage some dignity.

Y/N, who, like many others, was not a fan of being photographed first thing in the morning, shot a glare at the group. “You all better consider yourselves lucky I’m still half-asleep. Otherwise, you’d all be something I could swat at right about now.”

Artemis, unfazed, grinned. She knew Y/N wouldn’t hurt a fly (unless it was an actual fly), especially not his friends.

Dick, on the other hand, was not so confident and took a cautious step back, just in case.

Wally, always the instigator, couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease one of his closest friends. He leaned against the doorframe, a mischievous grin on his face. “So, how was your night, lovebirds? Get up to anything interesting?”

Colin rubbed his eyes groggily, blinking up at Wally from his spot on the bed. “What do you mean by ‘interesting’?” he asked, his voice innocent but filled with curiosity.

Without missing a beat, everyone—Y/N, Conner, Dick, Artemis, Zatanna, and Wally—responded in unison, “Nothing.”

Colin blinked again, clearly not satisfied but too sleepy to push further. He shrugged it off, snuggling back into the blankets.

“Anyway,” Dick started, his tone slightly more serious, “Batman’s here. He’s waiting for you and your ‘guests’ in the mission room.”

Y/N groaned, the dread immediately washing over him. “Oh, come on. This early?”

“Batman doesn’t sleep, Y/N,” Zatanna quipped, smirking as she crossed her arms.

The kids, on the other hand, perked up at the mention of Batman. CJ’s eyes lit up with excitement, and he nearly launched himself out of bed. “Uncle Bruce is here?!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing in place. “We get to meet him in his prime!”

Colin’s face mirrored his brother’s excitement. “Yeah! We’ve never seen Uncle Bruce younger than when he was old and retired!”

Y/N winced, rubbing his temples. “Great. Because that’s exactly what I needed today. Batman in his prime.” He glanced at Conner, who was already starting to untangle himself from the bed and the web of blankets.

Conner met his gaze, both of them instantly realizing the same thing: one of them was going to have to explain this entire situation to the Batman. Neither looked eager to volunteer.

Y/N groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, uh... you're explaining this to Batman, right? Cool, great!” he said, trying to shift the burden onto Conner.

Conner shot him a sidelong glance as he finally freed himself from Colin’s grasp. “Why should I explain it? You’re the one who created the damn spell. This is on you.”

"Ah, future me did that. Present me, on the other hand, has done no such thing. So, therefore, this falls on you. See, math," Y/N said with his usual sarcastic tone. “And I didn’t bring three kids from the future back here. That’s not on me!”

“Oh, but I’m not their only father, am I?” Conner shot back, keeping his voice as low as possible but still sharp.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, so when it’s convenient for you to use the father title, now you want to use it? Yesterday you were acting like it was some cosmic mistake!”

As the bickering continued, Wally leaned over to Artemis and muttered with a grin, "Man, they’re already nailing the divorced parents thing. Ten out of ten performance."

Artemis smirked, not missing a beat. “Yeah, all that’s missing is the custody battle.”

“I didn’t say—” Conner started, but CJ, who had been watching the whole exchange, interrupted with an amused but exasperated tone.

“You know, if you guys are trying to keep quiet, you’re not doing a very good job,” he pointed out, his voice deadpan as he hopped off the bed.

Both men stopped mid-bicker, realizing the volume of their conversation had escalated. They shared a brief, awkward silence before Y/N sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Right. Sorry, CJ.”

“Are we going or what?” Colin asked, looking ready to sprint toward the mission room, his excitement bubbling over.

Conner grumbled under his breath as he pulled his shirt on, shooting Y/N another look. “I’m still not explaining it.”

Y/N threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine! I’ll explain it to Batman. But if he glares a hole through my head, I’m holding you responsible.”

“Deal,” Conner muttered as he turned to usher the kids toward the door.

Wally, who had been watching the entire exchange with great amusement, shook his head. “You guys are so much fun in the mornings. Really sets the tone for the day.”

Y/N shot him a half-hearted glare. “Wally, if you don’t stop talking, I will personally turn you into a decorative garden gnome.”

Wally just grinned wider, following the group as they headed out. "Try me, magic boy."

As they all made their way down the hall, CJ and Colin buzzed with excitement at the prospect of meeting the Dark Knight in his prime, while Y/N mentally prepared himself for what was sure to be a long conversation with Batman.

When they arrived at the mission room, Batman stood with his arms crossed, his expression as stoic and unreadable as ever. Superman and Dr. Fate flanked him, both with differing reactions already written across their faces. Superman wore a look of quiet curiosity, while Dr. Fate’s imposing helmet tilted slightly, as if analyzing every moment with critical intensity.

Y/N barely had time to feel the weight of their combined presence before a chorus of "Uncle Bruce!" filled the room, followed by the stampede of three excited children. CJ, Colin, and Camden rushed past Y/N and Conner, crashing into Batman with a level of enthusiasm normally reserved for holidays.

Batman barely moved, standing firm as three small bodies collided with him. His expression never wavered from his usual deadpan. He looked down at the kids clinging to his legs and tugging at his cape like it was any other Tuesday.

"Hello, boys," he greeted, his voice even, betraying no emotion.

"Uncle Bruce, you're so young!" CJ exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Yeah, you're not old and retired yet," Colin chimed in, his tone equally awestruck.

Camden, meanwhile, had attached himself to Batman's leg, refusing to let go. "Bat Bat," the toddler babbled, his voice muffled against the fabric of the suit as he began his usual routine of climbing up the grown man who, once again, was not fazed by the action.

A chorus of "Awws" echoed from behind Y/N, as Artemis and Zatanna both cooed at the sight of the two-year-old climbing all over Batman like a jungle gym. Meanwhile, Conner stood there, his arms crossed tightly as he watched his youngest son cling to the Dark Knight, not feeling a slight ounce of jealousy at the sight. Not one bit...

Y/N exchanged a glance with Conner, both of them unsure how to proceed. Batman’s piercing gaze and silent command made it clear someone needed to start explaining. But the Dark Knight simply looked back at the three of them, his expression unreadable, as if a trio of future children showing up out of nowhere was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Uncle Bruce! Can we see the Batcave later?" Colin asked, practically vibrating with excitement.

Batman merely raised an eyebrow under his cowl. “We’ll see.”

Y/N’s nervousness spiked. The fact that Batman was completely unfazed made him even more anxious. The Dark Knight was known for his cold efficiency and intimidating nature, but this calm acceptance of three kids who claimed to be the future children of his two protégés felt... ominous.

Superman, on the other hand, chuckled warmly as the boys shifted their attention to him.

“Uncle Clark!” Colin shouted, springing off the ground into the air toward the Man of Steel with just as much enthusiasm. “You still look the same, but somehow still young. That's so cool!"

Y/N, Conner, and pretty much everyone else in the room (except for Batman) stared in utter shock, watching the eight-year-old hover in the air next to Superman, who also looked a bit surprised.

"Is he—" Wally started, his eyes wide.

"Flying?" Artemis finished, her mouth hanging open.

"You can fly," Conner stated, his voice a mix of astonishment and confusion.

"Well, duh," Colin said, rolling his eyes. "Dad and Uncle Clark showed me how. Uncle Clark, look at this trick I learned," he added with an excited grin.

Before anyone could react, Colin rocketed upward, performing a flawless loop in the air, zipping in a spiral before descending slowly to hover near Superman. His face radiated pride, clearly relishing the opportunity to show off his flying skills. Superman watched him, still a bit stunned, but with a warm, amused smile on his face.

"Ta-da!" Colin shouted, floating back down beside him, his excitement undiminished. He began circling around Superman. "Do you not age because you're Kryptonian? Wow, I can't wait to be strong and ancient to!"

Superman chuckled, reaching out to ruffle Colin's hair. "I'll take that as a compliment," he said, his voice light but tinged with curiosity. "So, this is what the future looks like for you guys, huh?"

Colin grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Yep! And you’re still the strongest! I can't wait to show you some more tricks."

As Colin continued to hover, defying gravity with ease, Conner stood frozen. He hadn’t moved, his gaze locked on his son as he watched him hover so effortlessly. A strange tightness formed in his chest, bittersweet and unspoken. Colin could fly. Not with the assistance of a shield like him, but on his own. Part of Conner felt immense pride, but another part couldn’t help but feel that uncomfortable tightness deepen—a sense of longing for something he couldn’t quite articulate.

"He can fly," Conner muttered, catching the attention of CJ, who was watching his brother show off with an annoyed expression that softened when he saw his dad's reaction.

"Yeah, we found out just after Colin turned about five. That was a fun day for you two, especially since you had to chase him around the house for hours. He thought it was hilarious, but you and Papa weren’t too happy," CJ explained, his voice softer than usual.

Conner, still a bit stunned, nodded slowly. "That sounds... fun," he said, his tone lacking enthusiasm.

CJ looked like he wanted to say more, but his Aunt Zatanna's warning and the thoughts from his conversation last night with his Papa loomed over him. Instead, he decided to change the subject.

"So, um, yeah, that's Colin—middle kid," he said, turning back to his uncles, hoping to shift the conversation.

"What about you?" Superman asked, turning his attention to CJ.

"I'm Conner Kent Junior, or CJ for short. I'm the oldest and the leader of our team," CJ replied, puffing his chest out a bit.

Everyone chuckled softly, except for Batman, though, for the smallest sliver of a moment, the corner of his lip upturned into a tiny smirk.

"And that's Camden, the youngest," CJ continued, gesturing to the toddler who was now perched on Batman's shoulder, playing with the pointed ears of his mask.

"Bat Bat," Camden repeated, his adorable smile plastered all over his face.

"Yes, I am," Batman said, his voice as flat as ever, but his expression softened just a little.

Y/N turned, catching Conner’s gaze, which remained fixed on Colin, who was still hovering effortlessly in the air. The look on Conner’s face—bittersweet and filled with a mix of pride and something else Y/N couldn’t quite place—tugged at him. It wasn’t often Conner wore his heart on his sleeve, but in this moment, the unspoken emotion in his eyes was impossible to miss.

Y/N found himself feeling something unexpected—a sudden, quiet protectiveness. It wasn’t just about Colin flying, but the realization that Conner was watching a part of his son that he could never truly share. There was no jealousy or bitterness in Y/N's own heart, only a desire to make sure Conner knew that he wasn’t alone in this, that Y/N understood.

He cleared his throat softly, stepping closer to Colin, who was still circling around Superman in excited loops. “Alright, Colin, time to come down.”

Colin, his face flushed with excitement, ignored him at first. “But Papa, I haven’t shown Uncle Clark the trick where I—”

“I said down, Colin,” Y/N interrupted, his voice taking on a particular tone. A tone he probably inherited from his own parent—the one that could stop him in his tracks as a kid, and evidently, one that worked on Colin too.

Colin froze mid-loop, his defiant expression faltering for a moment as he hovered a few feet above the ground. “But—”

“Now,” Y/N added, his voice firm yet still gentle, his gaze unwavering.

With a dramatic sigh that only an eight-year-old could muster, Colin slowly descended to the ground, landing lightly on his feet. “Fine, fine,” he muttered, crossing his arms and scowling slightly. “I was just having fun…”

Y/N smiled softly, crouching down so he was eye-level with his son. “You can show Uncle Clark more later, okay? Right now, we need to focus.”

Colin huffed but nodded, the defiance in his eyes giving way to a grudging understanding. He glanced up at Superman, who gave him an encouraging nod, and then back at his dad, the scowl easing from his face.

“Good,” Y/N said, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Thanks, kiddo.”

As Colin sulked back to his brothers, Y/N straightened, his gaze shifting back to Conner, who had been watching the exchange silently. There was a flicker of something in Conner’s eyes—surprise, maybe? Or perhaps a quiet gratitude that Y/N had stepped in, that he understood without needing Conner to say anything.

For a moment, Y/N hesitated, feeling the weight of the unspoken between them. It was strange, this sudden need to make sure Conner was okay. Usually, they were too busy pushing each other's buttons, too wrapped up in their own frustrations. But now, seeing the vulnerability in Conner’s expression, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the tug of something... different.

“You good?” Y/N asked quietly, his voice low so the kids wouldn’t hear.

Conner blinked, as if caught off guard by the question. His eyes flicked from Y/N to Colin, then back again. “Yeah,” he said after a moment, though his voice was softer than usual, almost contemplative. “I’m fine.”

Y/N gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. He didn’t press further, didn’t want to push. Instead, he let the silence between them linger, a silence that felt strangely comfortable for once, even with all the chaos surrounding them.

For a split second, the air between them felt... less heavy. Less filled with the usual tension. There was no sarcastic retort, no biting comment. Just... an understanding.

But before either of them could dwell on the moment, CJ, ever the instigator, piped up with his usual boundless energy. “So, can we see the Batcave now?”

Batman’s stern voice cut through the room, as calm and composed as ever. “Later.”

CJ’s shoulders slumped dramatically. “Ugh, fine...”

After introductions were made, in true Batman fashion, he had DNA tests administered to confirm what Y/N, Conner, and all their friends already knew.

"The results are conclusive," Batman announced, his voice as stoic as ever. "Superboy and Y/N are both the paternal fathers to these children."

"Well, duh," Colin replied, rolling his eyes. "We told you that. But, what does paternal mean?"

"It means they're both our dads, dummy. And there's no need to be rude, Colin," CJ admonished, his tone exasperated. "It's not like we're lying."

"Stop calling me names! You're not the boss of me," Colin shot back, his cheeks flushing with anger.

"Actually, I am. I'm the oldest, so I'm the leader," CJ countered, his voice rising.

"No, you're not," Colin argued, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes, I am," CJ insisted, his temper flaring.

"No, you're not," Colin repeated, his voice growing louder.

"Yes, I am!" CJ yelled, his voice matching his brother's volume.

"Boys," Y/N warned, his voice firm.

"Sorry, Papa," CJ and Colin replied, their voices instantly contrite.

"I can't believe this is my life," Y/N groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"It's not so bad," Conner offered, his tone surprisingly gentle. "At least they're not fighting anymore."

Y/N let out a long, dramatic sigh, rubbing his face. “Fifteen hours ago, my life was normal. Now I have three kids from the future, and one of them’s trying to order around his brothers like he’s Batman.”

Superman chuckled warmly, offering Y/N a smile that somehow practically radiated paternal understanding. “It’s just the beginning, Y/N. You’ll get used to it. Eventually.”

"You got a kid I don't know about, Clarkie?" Y/N responded with a raised brow.

Superman returned his own raised brow at the nickname. "Clarkie?"

CJ turned his head toward the two men. "He calls you that all the time. Though, you seem a lot more surprised and annoyed about it now than you do in the future."

Y/N groaned while Clark chuckled at the kid's sharp observation.

"If this is what my mother meant by my kid being the karma to me for what I was to her, I want a do-over."

"Too late for that," Conner remarked, his lips quirking into a small, amused smile.

"Would you hush?" Y/N grumbled, shooting him a half-hearted glare.

“Well, I can't wait to see how we survive this,” Wally chimed in, shooting a look at CJ and Colin. “I mean, you’ve got two kids who are basically replicas of their parents, with an equal level of emotional control. One's trying to play leader, and the other... well, let’s just say I’m seeing Conner 2.0 with a side of ‘no chill.’”

Conner shot Wally a flat look but remained silent, his arms crossed as he watched Camden poke and prod at Batman’s suit. The toddler was giggling uncontrollably, practically hanging off Bruce’s arm, tugging at his cape like it was a new toy. Meanwhile, Batman stood perfectly still, as if he didn’t even notice. His expression remained unreadable, but there was something—just a hint—that suggested he wasn’t exactly unhappy with the tiny human attached to him.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Y/N muttered, glancing at Bruce’s unflinching demeanor. “A kid hanging off Batman, and he’s... not scowling. And here I am, trying to make sense of how this is somehow my life now or going to be my life in the future.”

Zatanna stifled a laugh, leaning against the wall. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? One day you’re acting like the kid, and the next you’re trying to manage three kids.”

“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” Y/N responded, glancing down at CJ, who was still trying his best to act like the "responsible" one, even if Colin was clearly not having it.

Artemis smirked. “Maybe both. We could use the entertainment.”

Y/N groaned. “I’m not here to entertain, Artemis.”

“You’re doing a great job of it, though,” she shot back with a grin.

Just as Y/N was about to respond, the door slid open, and M’Gann entered the room, holding a tray of snacks. Her presence caused an immediate shift in the room’s atmosphere. She smiled, but it was tight, strained even, her eyes flicking toward Y/N and the kids with clear unease. “I, uh, brought these for the kids,” she said, her voice polite but distant.

CJ, who was always quick to pick up on tension, noticed M’Gann’s discomfort and shot a wary glance at his brother. Colin, oblivious as ever, simply perked up at the sight of snacks. “Snacks! Finally!” he shouted, taking a step toward M’Gann’s tray, only to be yanked back by CJ’s firm grip.

Colin pouted but didn’t argue, instead crossing his arms and muttering, “I hate it when he acts like he’s the boss.”

Y/N couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the exchange. “You’re not helping, CJ,” he muttered under his breath before his attention shifted back to M’Gann, who stood awkwardly near the doorway, the boys clearly unsure how to approach her.

Wally, noticing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. “So, Camden looks pretty comfortable over there,” he quipped, gesturing toward the tiny toddler still clinging to Batman’s shoulder. “Who knew Bruce would be such a hit with kids?”

Camden giggled, poking Bruce in the cheek. “Bat Bat!”

Batman didn’t move, though Y/N could have sworn he saw the tiniest twitch of his lips. He wasn’t exactly scowling—and in Batman terms, that was practically a smile.

“I’ll be damned,” Y/N muttered. “Yeah, I’m definitely living in some weird alternate universe.”

M’Gann, however, remained tense, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. The kids seemed to pick up on her discomfort, and though Colin’s attention was still focused on the snacks, CJ’s eyes flicked nervously between her and Y/N. There was an awkward silence, the unspoken tension between M’Gann and the family hanging in the air.

Just as Y/N considered trying to say something, the atmosphere shifted dramatically, an intense, almost suffocating pressure filling the room.

"Ahem."

The weight of the room shifted, all eyes turning to Dr. Fate, his presence more imposing than ever with the golden cape draped over him, the helmet of Nabu gleaming ominously in the dim lighting. Giovanni Zatara's mortal voice was completely gone, replaced by the booming, ethereal tone of the Lord of Order. His deep voice reverberated off the walls, demanding attention.

"This situation is not to be taken lightly," Dr. Fate intoned, his words hanging heavy in the air. "The arrival of these children from a future timeline—brought here through magic—has the potential to disrupt the balance of time and space. The consequences of their presence could ripple through the past, present, and future, with devastating results."

The lighthearted energy in the room immediately deflated, the playful mood dashed away by Fate’s dire warning. Even Camden, perched on Batman’s shoulder, seemed to sense the seriousness of the moment, his babbling quieting as he curiously played with the pointed ears of Batman's cowl.

Superman’s easygoing smile faltered, his expression shifting into one of concern. “How bad are we talking?” he asked, his voice lower and more cautious now.

Fate’s helmet tilted ever so slightly, the glowing eyes narrowing. “Temporal magic is not only complex but perilous. The smallest disruption can lead to unforeseen consequences. The longer these children remain in the past, the more likely the timeline will fracture. Their very presence risks creating divergences—events that may never occur, or worse, events that should not happen but will.”

His gaze shifted to CJ, the weight of his words intensifying. “But of greater concern is the fact that a child of his age was able to perform such a powerful spell with no guidance or oversight from his father.” The glowing eyes behind the helm seemed to bore into Y/N, though the judgment lay with CJ. “No matter who taught him, such magic should not be wielded by one so young. It requires control, experience, and most importantly, restraint—qualities that take years, if not decades, to master. And yet, he succeeded in casting it.”

Y/N swallowed hard, his attention snapping to his son, who shifted nervously under Fate’s scrutiny. The weight of the implications settled over the room like a heavy fog. CJ, barely eleven, had performed a spell far beyond what should be possible for someone his age.

Fate’s voice remained steady, but there was a dark edge to it. “That a child of his age can even wield such power in casting a spell of that magnitude without proper teaching or supervision is concerning in itself. Magic of this level, cast without the necessary experience, is not only dangerous but reckless. The consequences of a misstep—of even the slightest deviation in its execution—could have been catastrophic.”

CJ bit his lip, his earlier enthusiasm fading under the weight of Fate’s words. He looked down, guilt flickering in his eyes, as Y/N’s stomach twisted with both concern and the unspoken pressure of responsibility.

Superman and Batman exchanged glances, the levity of the moment completely gone. Batman’s expression had hardened, though the toddler still clung to his shoulder, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

“I didn’t mean to—” CJ began, his voice small, but Fate held up a hand, silencing him.

“Intent matters little when tampering with forces that defy time and space,” Fate continued, his voice resonating like an ancient echo. “The fact that you were able to do so speaks to an alarming raw power within you. A power that, without proper control, poses a threat to not only yourself but everyone around you.”

Y/N inhaled deeply, his heart heavy as he took in the full weight of what Fate was saying. His son—his eleven-year-old son—had tapped into something dangerous. And though Y/N had always known CJ had potential, this was... beyond anything he could have anticipated.

Fate’s eyes glowed even brighter, his voice growing more severe. “Raw power without discipline is more dangerous than any external threat. It is chaotic, unpredictable. You acted without full comprehension of the consequences, and that is not just reckless—it is irresponsible. Your abilities, if left unchecked, could tear the fabric of time itself.”

CJ’s shoulders hunched, his earlier confidence slipping away entirely. His eyes darted toward Y/N, then to the ground, his hands trembling slightly as he wrung them together. The weight of Fate’s words was pressing down on him, hard and unrelenting. He hadn’t meant to cause any harm, hadn’t realized just how dangerous his actions could be. The gravity of the situation—of potentially damaging the timeline and putting everyone he cared about at risk—was sinking in, fast.

Fate, however, didn’t let up. His voice echoed like thunder in the stillness of the room. “You are a child. A child with access to power that can upend entire realities. Do you understand the responsibility that comes with such abilities? You cast a spell beyond your understanding—beyond what should even be possible for someone your age—and in doing so, you’ve placed the timeline, and everyone within it, in jeopardy.”

Tears welled up in CJ’s eyes, his face crumpling as he tried to hold back the flood of emotions now overwhelming him. “I-I didn’t mean to... I just wanted to see you all... I just wanted to—” His voice broke, a sob escaping before he could stop it. He wiped at his eyes, trying to stay composed, but the guilt and fear were written all over his face.

Y/N’s heart clenched at the sight. Just the night before, he’d seen how worried CJ had been about messing things up, about somehow ruining the future for him and Conner. And now, Fate’s harsh words were doing exactly that—filling the kid with an unbearable sense of guilt. Y/N could feel it rising in him—an anger that came from a place deeper than usual, that soft protectiveness from before now something fierce he couldn’t ignore.

“That’s enough,” Y/N said, his voice sharper than anyone had heard it all day. He stepped forward, grabbing CJ and pulling the boy against him who immediately wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in his side, desperately trying to hide his tears. “He’s just a kid, Fate. You’ve made your point.”

Colin made his way over to his brother to comfort him, a red hue in his irises as he looked ready to blow a hole through that helmet with his pointed glare at the sorcerer, matching the glowering expression on his father’s face as the Kryptonian also took his place beside the wizard and their two kids.

Fate’s glowing eyes bore down on Y/N, his voice unwavering. “A child or not, the consequences remain. The danger—”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, his entire body tense as he held CJ protectively against him. His tone, usually layered with sarcasm or lightheartedness even in stressful moments, was now razor-sharp, the edge of it cutting through the air. It was the kind of tone that made everyone freeze, even Batman, who stood stoic but noticeably more alert, his eyes flicking to Y/N as if assessing an emerging threat.

“A child or not?” Y/N echoed, his voice dropping into something deadly quiet. “He’s a kid. And you think berating him, making him feel like he's already damned the timeline to hell is helping? He’s eleven years old, Fate. Eleven. You might not care about that, but I do. And I’ll tell you this right now: you will not make him feel like a walking disaster just because he made a mistake.”

Fate, despite his unearthly power and presence, seemed to register the shift in the atmosphere. He held his ground but didn't move forward, the glowing eyes behind the helm unreadable. “I speak only of the risks—”

“And I heard you,” Y/N interrupted, his voice still steady but with a bite that could cut through steel. “We all heard you. Loud and clear. But let me make one thing perfectly clear to you: if anyone thinks for a second that they can make my son feel like he’s some kind of ticking time bomb, they’ll have to go through me first. I don’t care if you’re wearing the Helm of Nabu, a cape, or a bat on your chest—no one, and I mean no one, gets to treat him like that.”

There was a heavy pause, the weight of Y/N’s words hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. Even Batman, who rarely showed hesitation or uncertainty, shifted slightly, his eyes flicking toward Superman as if silently communicating to be ready, just in case. Superman’s usually easygoing expression had hardened, though he was watching Y/N with a level of caution he typically reserved for far more volatile situations.

And Conner? His presence was something else entirely. If Y/N’s sharp, cutting words hadn’t been enough to put everyone on edge, Conner’s silent but simmering anger was enough to make the entire room feel ten degrees colder. His voice, when it came, was low—dangerously controlled. “You heard him,” he said, his hand resting protectively on the eleven-year-old’s shoulder. “He made a mistake, but he’s not going to stand here and be chewed out for something he didn’t fully understand. He’s our kid, Fate. Not one of your hosts that has to sit there and listen to you lecture them down.”

CJ looked up, eyes wide and brimming with tears, first at his dad and then at his papa. The anger in Conner’s voice wasn’t something he heard often—not directed like this. It was a quiet kind of anger, a controlled force that was all the more intense for how subdued it was. And that made CJ feel something else entirely: relief. Despite their obvious tense relationship in this timeline, his parents were standing up for him together, even in the face of someone as powerful as Fate.

Some things don't change even with time.

CJ sniffled quietly, his face still pressed into Y/N’s side, but it was clear the boy was taking comfort in the way both his parents stood there, a bit younger than he was used to, but still firm and unyielding. He knew the kind of power Dr. Fate held, knew that his presence alone could silence rooms, but right now, it was Y/N and Conner who were commanding the space.

Zatanna, Wally, Dick, Kaldur, and Artemis stood together, watching with bated breath as the tension in the room thickened. They had all felt a deep, instinctive protectiveness over these three since getting to know them—like an extension of their own makeshift family. But seeing Y/N and Conner, two of their closest friends, united in defense of their children? That was something else entirely. The raw intensity radiating from both men was a force of its own, sharper and more intimidating than any argument they’d ever had with each other. It was like watching two titans—formidable on their own—become unstoppable when their fury was aimed at a common enemy.

Even M’Gann, who had kept her distance from Y/N and the boys, couldn’t tear her eyes away. She crossed her arms, tension still visible in her posture, but the air crackled with something unspoken. Despite her unease, she couldn’t ignore the power shift happening right in front of them. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what would happen next.

Fate’s eyes glowed brighter, but there was a brief hesitation now, as if weighing the situation. Beneath the room's tension, he could feel it—a subtle but undeniable pulse of magic rising in Y/N, simmering just beneath the surface, like a storm waiting to break. The potential that had long been sensed in him, untapped yet dangerous, now crackled in the air around him. The last thing Fate wanted was to turn someone as powerful as Y/N—given how potent his son’s magic already was—into an adversary or even a rival.

“You misunderstand—”

“No,” Y/N cut in again, sharper this time, his hand tightening around CJ’s shoulder protectively. “You misunderstand. I won’t let you stand there and intimidate my kid, make him feel like he’s already done irreversible damage just because he wanted to see his family. I get it—you’re worried about the timeline. Guess what? So are we. But if you try to guilt him, shame him, or talk to him like a liability again, I promise I will show you just how reckless I can be with my magic.”

It was the threat in Y/N’s voice—delivered in a tone that wasn’t raised, wasn’t shouted, but was filled with so much venom—that made everyone pause. Even Batman, who rarely reacted to emotional outbursts, visibly tensed. Y/N’s presence right now wasn’t just a protective father; it was something else, something primal. A warning.

Fate, still unmoving, regarded Y/N for a long moment, the glowing eyes behind the helm unreadable. Finally, the Lord of Order spoke, though his voice had lost some of its earlier authority, now more measured. “The consequences remain, but I will refrain from further...discussion. For now.”

“You’ll refrain permanently,” Y/N shot back, the edge still there. “I’m not asking.”

Conner’s eyes flicked between Fate and Y/N, his expression still cold but tempered by a quiet pride in the way Y/N had stepped up. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected Y/N to go full protective mode in a way that was somehow scarier than his own outbursts. But damn, was it effective.

After another long, tense silence, Fate finally stepped back, his glowing eyes dimming slightly as if in reluctant acceptance. “Very well. But understand this: time cannot be ignored. The longer they remain, the more unstable the timeline becomes.”

“Yeah, we get it,” Conner replied, his voice low but steely. “We’ll fix it. But don’t think for a second that we won’t protect them every step of the way.”

Fate’s gaze lingered on them for a moment longer before he turned away, his cape billowing as he floated back slightly, allowing the tension in the room to ease, if only by a fraction. Batman, still standing with Camden on his shoulder, exchanged a glance with Superman, made a motion for them to intervene now.

Superman cleared his throat softly, stepping forward with a more diplomatic tone. “Alright, let’s all take a breath. We’ve got a situation to handle, and we’re all on the same side here.”

Y/N didn’t respond, his eyes still locked on Fate for another moment before he finally exhaled, the tension in his posture easing as he turned his attention back to CJ, his voice softening instantly as he murmured to his son. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

CJ sniffled again, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, still clinging tightly to Y/N’s side. “I-I didn’t mean to…”

“I know,” Y/N whispered, pulling him close. “I know you didn’t.”

Conner knelt down beside CJ, his large hand gently resting on the boy’s back. “You’re not in trouble,” he reassured him quietly. “We’ll figure it out together.”

CJ nodded, still visibly upset but calming under the combined presence of his parents.

And as the room began to shift back to a more measured tone, Y/N exchanged a glance with Conner, a silent understanding passing between them. For all their bickering and back-and-forths, they were united in this.

For now, at least, the storm had passed. But the underlying tension remained, and everyone in the room knew one thing for certain: you can poke at Y/N and Conner, but their kids? That was a line you should never cross.

After their little confrontation with Fate, and managing to calm CJ down enough, Y/N and Zatanna along with the eleven-year-old wizard headed off to their study to start doing research on the spell future Y/N created so they could send the kids back home. CJ was more than happy to be getting quality time with his magical father and aunt, completely forgetting his dour mood from before.

The rest of the group split off to the their own quests and whatnots while Batman and Fate stayed behind in the mission room to discuss a bit more. Meanwhile, Conner along with Colin and a giggly Camden who was now hanging off a Superman's shoulder, playing with his cape made their way to the lounge area so the kids could have some breakfast.

As they stepped into the living area, the atmosphere shifted slightly. It was still tense, but there was a quiet comfort that came with being away from the others, especially with the kids now more focused on food than the overwhelming situation they were all thrown into. Colin, his hair tousled and his eyes full of curiosity, plopped himself down at the dining table and immediately began stuffing his face with the nearest food he could find, which happened to be a stack of waffles. Camden, ever the cheerful toddler, giggled uncontrollably as he played with Superman’s cape, his tiny hands tugging at it like it was his new favorite toy.

Conner, however, was lost in his own thoughts. He leaned against the counter, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he watched the kids. Colin’s carefree attitude was a stark contrast to the weight on his own shoulders, and he couldn't help but feel conflicted. It was strange—looking at these kids who were supposed to be his, knowing they came from a future that felt so far removed from his current reality.

Clark, noticing the heavy silence, walked over to the counter where Conner stood. His cape fluttered slightly as Camden continued to swing from it, but the Man of Steel didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he offered Conner a small, knowing smile.

“You seem quieter than usual,” Clark observed, his tone gentle but probing. “What’s on your mind?”

Conner let out a deep sigh, his gaze shifting to Camden, who was still laughing at Superman’s cape antics. “This whole thing... It’s just a lot to take in. I mean, I’ve barely figured out my own life, and now I’ve got three kids from the future showing up, acting like we’re some happy family.”

Clark nodded, his expression understanding. “It’s overwhelming, I’m sure. But they seem to know you—both of you—pretty well. You and Y/N. There’s... a lot of history there, and not just the tension we’ve all seen. There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

Conner stiffened slightly at the mention of Y/N. He wasn’t ready to dive into that just yet, but Clark’s gentle prodding was hard to ignore.

“Yeah,” Conner muttered, his voice tight. “History.”

Clark’s brow furrowed. “You want to talk about it?”

Conner hesitated, his arms uncrossing as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He wasn’t the type to talk about his feelings, not even with Clark, but something about the situation—the kids, the unexpected future they were facing—made it harder to stay silent.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Conner admitted quietly, his eyes drifting to Camden, who had now taken a seat next to Colin and was trying (unsuccessfully) to eat a waffle without dropping syrup all over himself. “I mean... I had things figured out. M’Gann and I... We were good. Comfortable.”

Clark nodded slowly, letting him speak at his own pace.

“And then Y/N showed up,” Conner continued, his voice almost a whisper now. “Out of nowhere. And everything changed. I didn’t... I didn’t expect to feel anything for him. I thought I had my life planned out, you know? M’Gann and I... we were supposed to be the future. But then he came along and it was just...”

Clark’s gaze softened as he watched Conner wrestle with his thoughts. “Sudden?”

Conner nodded. “Yeah. And confusing. I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t even want to handle it.”

Clark remained quiet for a moment, letting the silence between them settle before he spoke again. “I know what it’s like to have everything you think you know shaken up. Feelings can be... complicated. And sudden, like you said. But that doesn’t mean they’re wrong.”

Clark remained quiet for a moment, letting the silence between them settle before he spoke again. “I know what it’s like to have everything you think you know shaken up. Feelings can be... complicated. And sudden, like you said. But that doesn’t mean they’re wrong.”

He paused, his gaze softening. "You know, when you first came into our lives, it was a shock—especially for me. No one expected it, the way you were discovered, and suddenly becoming a part of my life that I didn't know how to accept. And because of that, I wasn’t... exactly welcoming, was I?" Clark’s voice grew quieter, the regret in his tone unmistakable. "I didn’t handle it well at all. I remember Batman trying to have this talk with me about how I needed to be there for you, cause the transition you were going through was tough, but I didn't want to listen. It made me uncomfortable—angry even—and I let that get in the way of treating you the way you deserved."

Clark’s voice faltered slightly, the weight of those memories heavy. "I distanced myself. I barely talked to you, and when I did, it was cold, indifferent. And I know that hurt you. I can see now how much of a toll that took on you." He looked Conner in the eye, the sincerity in his expression clear.

Conner shifted uncomfortably at the memory, the wound of Clark’s initial indifference still raw even after all these years. His fists clenched slightly as Clark continued.

"And because of that," Clark added gently, "I pushed you away. I made you feel like you weren’t wanted, like you didn’t belong. That’s on me and I was wrong to do that. Now, this whole interesting scenario and being a witness to some of you and Y/N's expressive disagreements, I'm wondering if, in a way, you were doing the same thing to Y/N that I did to you." His tone wasn’t accusatory, but the weight of his words hung between them. "You and I... we’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we? What I’m saying is, sometimes the most unexpected blessings come from the most unexpected places."

Conner’s jaw tightened, his gaze shifting to the table where Colin was still busy devouring his waffles. The kid looked so carefree, so unaffected by the tension in the air.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Conner admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Being a dad... being with Y/N... It’s all too much.”

As if sensing the weight of the conversation, Colin paused mid-bite and glanced up at his dad and uncle.

Colin smiled, his eyes bright. "Dad, can I have some apple juice?"

Conner blinked, the question catching him off guard. "Uh, yeah. Sure." He turned, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and filling it with the apple juice from the fridge. He handed it to Colin, who took it eagerly.

"Thank you!" Colin chirped, taking a sip.

Conner watched Colin, his eyes narrowing as the boy eagerly drank his juice, his messy dark hair falling into his eyes. The kid was a near replica of Y/N—sharp features, the same mischievous grin, and that glint of playful defiance. But even with all of Y/N’s traits so clearly stamped on his face, Conner could see bits of himself too. In the way Colin held himself, a certain stubbornness, and the unmistakable spark of defiance in his eyes that promised trouble wherever he turned. The thought made him both proud, and a little nervous. It was like looking into a mirror, one that reflected not just his own past but Y/N's influence as well, creating something that was uniquely theirs.

As Conner’s thoughts swirled, Camden toddled over, his tiny feet padding against the floor as he made his way to his father. Without warning, Camden jumped up, grabbing onto Conner's arm with a delighted giggle. Conner caught him easily, his big hand wrapping protectively around his youngest son as Camden snuggled against him, giggling softly. The warmth of the moment momentarily pulled Conner out of his anxious thoughts, grounding him in the simplicity of Camden’s affection. Less than 24 hours and the move was almost instinctive—the way he cradled Camden close, his strong arms wrapping around the small boy like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Clark, standing nearby, observed the scene with a faint smile. The ease with which Conner held Camden, the tenderness in his normally stoic expression—it was a side of him Clark rarely saw. It was a glimpse of something deeper, something real and undeniable. "Well, I wouldn't use the word ready, seeing as you're still young and have a lot to learn, from this point of view, you seem just fine to me," Clark commented softly, his voice filled with pride and reassurance. Conner looked over at his mentor, the weight of his worries momentarily lifting as he realized, despite everything, this—being a father—might not be as overwhelming as it seemed.

Clark’s smile softened, and he straightened himself out from his crouched position over the counter, “No one’s ever ready. But that doesn’t mean you’re not capable of handling it. You’ve always been stronger than you think, Conner. And look at them—” He gestured to Colin and Camden, who were now both completely focused on the plate of food in front of them. “You’ve done something right if these two turned out this way.”

Colin, oblivious to the compliment, wiped syrup from his chin and glanced up again. “Dad, you think too much,” he said plainly, as if stating an obvious fact.

Conner blinked in surprise, and Clark let out a soft laugh. “Out of the mouths of babes.”

Colin, sensing he was being teased, shot a quick glare at his uncle before turning back to his plate. “Papa says the same thing. You’re always thinking and not saying how you feel. Maybe you should try that. Just... you know, say what you’re thinking.”

Conner stared at his son for a moment, the kid’s words sinking in. It wasn’t just a child’s naive observation—it was Y/N’s influence. Y/N had always been the one to push him, to force him to face things he didn’t want to. And now, even through their future children, that push was still there, urging him to stop hiding and start feeling.

“I’ll think about it,” Conner finally said, his voice softer now, more thoughtful.

Colin nodded as if that was enough, shoving another bite of waffle into his mouth.

Clark stood up, giving Conner a knowing look. “That’s all anyone can ask for.”

Conner didn’t reply, but the weight in his chest felt a little lighter. For the first time since the kids had arrived, he didn’t feel completely overwhelmed. It wasn’t easy—nothing ever was when it came to his feelings, especially when Y/N was involved—but maybe, just maybe, he could figure it out.

The kids kept eating, and for the first time that morning, the tension in the air seemed to ease. There were still questions left unanswered, still emotions to sort through, but for now, Conner let himself breathe. Clark’s words, and Colin’s surprisingly wise insight, lingered with him.

Maybe he had been thinking too much. Maybe it was time to start doing.

Conner stood outside the study Zatanna and Y/N used to study and practice their magic, his hand hovering over the knob. He stood frozen just in front of the door, his hand hovering over the doorknob as he listened to the low murmur of voices from inside. His pulse quickened as he took a deep breath, steeling himself. He knew he couldn't avoid Y/N forever, but the thought of facing him, of confronting the mess of emotions swirling in his chest, was almost too much.

It had been a few hours since his conversation with Superman and the advice from his middle son, and already it felt like his courage was slipping away, drowning under the weight of old insults, arguments, and uncertainty. The thought of facing Y/N, of peeling back the layers of resentment they had built up over time, felt like an insurmountable task.

He'd already been by 15 minutes earlier, coming to grab CJ so the kid could also eat before heading back to help his Papa and Aunt with the spell to return them to their original timeline. But something about seeing Y/N, the look he'd been giving him since this morning, made Conner hesitate in returning to the room to talk to him. There was an intensity in Y/N's gaze that rattled him—like the magic user could see right through him, past the facade of indifference, straight into the mess of emotions swirling beneath the surface. It wasn’t a glare, not exactly, but something sharper, more discerning. And it unnerved Conner in a way he wasn't used to.

Anger, frustration—those were familiar. He could work with those. They fueled him, gave him something to push against. But this? This nervous, anxious feeling? That was foreign territory. Normally, when he got anxious, he'd channel it into anger—yelling, snapping, getting into yet another argument with Y/N. But here, standing outside the door, knowing what he needed to do and how he should approach it... it made his stomach churn. Because as much as he hated to admit it, every time he reacted in anger, he realized it only proved Y/N right. And the last thing he wanted to do now was give the smart-ass a reason to smugly say "I told you so" over and over until who knows what end.

He may be irrational at times, but he wasn't dumb. And his pride could only take so much.

No, Conner needed to do this right. But how was he supposed to do that when it felt like his nerves were crawling under his skin, making it impossible to think straight?

He exhaled slowly, trying to steady his nerves. Just as his hand tightened around the knob, ready to push the door open, his superhearing picked that moment to tune in on the conversation happening inside.

"Conner? Attractive?" Y/N’s voice cut through the muffled conversation, a sarcastic edge to his tone. "Yeah, I thought so. Once. You know, back before he treated me like I wasn’t worth his time. I don't understand how this seems funny to only me. How people can just… change their tune overnight. One day, I was just a nobody on the team to him, then when I start treating him the same way, suddenly, it's like I'm the only one on the team—but for all the wrong reasons."

Conner’s heart skipped a beat, his grip tightening on the knob, but he didn’t turn it. Instead, he leaned closer, his superhearing focusing in on the conversation and the harsh but strained sound of Y/N's words.

"Y/N..." Zatanna’s voice came through softly, as if she was trying to comfort him.

"No, seriously," Y/N continued, a bitter laugh escaping him. "You can't not admit how funny and ironic this whole situation is. Me and Conner, together? The universe could not come up with a more hilarious joke."

Conner froze at Y/N's words, his stomach knotting as he strained to hear more. His pulse quickened, the sarcastic bite in Y/N’s tone cutting deeper than he expected. That bitterness, though, the strain in it—that was what really threw him off. It wasn’t just sarcasm for sarcasm’s sake. It was the sound of someone who’d been hurt and was still trying to laugh it off, even when the pain was clearly bleeding through the cracks.

Inside, Zatanna’s voice came through, softer now but insistent, a mix of empathy and reason. “Y/N, come on. You’re not being fair to him—or to yourself. I know Conner wasn’t exactly Mr. Warmth when you first joined, but you gave it right back to him. And you have to admit, a lot of the time, you weren’t just defending yourself.”

Y/N snorted, and Conner could almost see the exasperation on his face. “Oh, really? What would you call it then, Z? I was supposed to just sit back and take it? Let him look through me like I didn’t exist? And then when I finally matched his indifference, suddenly, I'm the bad guy?” His voice grew more animated, like the floodgates of resentment had been opened. “I didn’t ask for any of this! I didn’t ask to feel anything for him. Hell, the attraction I had? I thought it was done the second he made it clear I didn’t matter. But then... now? When I’ve finally learned to put a wall up, he wants to start giving me these long and sad looks like I'm supposed to feel sympathy for him. Zatanna, we'd literally just got sidelined by Bats not even a few hours earlier because me and him could not stop fighting on the mission. Don't think I didn't see all of your tired and annoyed looks while me and him kept screaming at each other."

Conner’s stomach twisted painfully, a knot of guilt and frustration coiling tighter with every word. He wasn't even in the room and he could feel the weight of Y/N’s resentment settling on his chest, like Y/N was saying all of this directly to him, staring him straight in his blue eyes. It felt heavy and suffocating.

Hearing Y/N talk about his walls, about the way he felt forced to build them up—it stung in a way the Kryptonian wasn’t prepared for. He had always thought their arguments, their constant bickering, were just a reflection of their differences, not realizing how deeply he had hurt Y/N in the process.

Of course, this was the moment when he was reminded of Superman's words from before about how he’d treated him in the beginning when Dick, Wally, and Kal broke him out of Cadmus. It just made the sting feel worse, considering Conner knew exactly how Y/N was feeling because his mentor had once made him feel the exact same way, even if their circumstances were a bit different.

And now, to hear that Y/N had once felt something for him—attraction even—only to have it turn into this bitter, sarcastic shield... It made Conner feel like he had been blind to it all, and now he was paying for it, unable to untangle the mess he’d helped create.

Zatanna sighed. “I’m not saying he didn’t screw up, Y/N. We both know Conner can be... complicated, especially with his emotions. But you’re not being honest with yourself either.” Her tone was gentle but firm. “You built that wall out of your own fear too. You’re as stubborn as he is. He pushed you away, and you pushed back just as hard.”

Y/N groaned, clearly growing frustrated with the direction of the conversation. “Look, Z, I’m not saying I’m perfect, alright? But do you blame me? Every time I tried to be decent, I got shut down. Every time I tried to be patient, I got a door slammed in my face. And now—now we’re supposed to pretend like none of that happened? Like the past just doesn’t exist because we’ve got some kids from a future I can’t even picture?” His voice wavered for a moment, a crack in his bravado. “You, him, and everyone else must have a lot of faith in me if you think I want to sign myself up for something like that just because three little boys popped in from the future to tell us our fortunes! And you know what? You really shouldn't, because I don’t want to live in a world where I have to constantly wonder in the back of my mind if I’m worth someone’s time or if they’re suddenly going to change their tune at the drop of a dime because of this, that, and whatever the hell the third might be! I’m not going to live like that. And if that means walking away from all this, then so be it. The kids will get over it. Shoot, they won't even be here to see it!”

Conner’s hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, his knuckles going white as Y/N’s words echoed in his ears. The frustration bubbled up inside him, twisting and coiling into something darker, something harder to control. Y/N’s dismissal of the kids—their kids, his sons—like they were some temporary nuisance, some fleeting inconvenience that would disappear once this whole mess was over, set Conner's blood boiling. He could feel the anger rising in his chest, threatening to burst out in a way that had always felt second nature to him, the way it always had when he and Y/N fought.

But this? This wasn’t just about him anymore. It wasn’t just another fight between him and Y/N where they could trade barbs and insults like it was some kind of sparring match. No. Now it felt personal in a way that cut deeper than all their previous arguments combined. Y/N wasn’t just throwing him under the bus with his biting words and sarcastic remarks—he was dismissing the future that their kids came from, the life that, according to CJ, Colin, and Camden, they were supposed to build together. Y/N wasn’t just rejecting him. He was rejecting all of it—the family, the possibility, the kids—and that hurt worse than anything Conner had ever felt before.

He couldn’t tell if the anger in his chest was fueled more by his own pain or by the thought of the kids overhearing something like this. What would Colin think if he knew Y/N felt this way? The kid who loved his parents more than anyone. Or Camden? Did Y/N consider for one second how CJ would feel, knowing that boy practically looks up to and tries to follow every step his Papa takes? This would absolutely destroy all three of them, especially the oldest one. The thought of Y/N throwing them aside like a passing inconvenience tore at him, and Conner had to fight every instinct and nerve in his body telling him to march into that room and turn the whole conversation into an all-out brawl.

Inside, Zatanna’s voice softened, but there was a slight edge to it now, the first sign of her patience wearing thin. "Y/N... that's not fair to the kids and you know it. You already told me how CJ talked to you last night and how terrified he is of him and his brothers interfering. You know this will only break him. He, Colin, and Camden practically worship the ground you and Conner walk on. They didn’t ask for this any more than you did. And you’re right, you didn’t sign up for this, but you can’t just treat them like they're some temporary burden. They're your family too, no matter how far in the future it may be. You see how CJ looks up to you, how protective Colin already is of not just his brothers but his parents as well. A trait I'm sure he more than gets from his father. They’re real, Y/N, and they’re here. You can't just wish them away because you're scared of what this means for you and Conner."

There was a beat of silence, and Conner could almost imagine Y/N gritting his teeth, wrestling with the emotions he so desperately tried to hide behind sarcasm and bravado.

"Yeah, well, I didn’t ask to have my life turned upside down, Zatanna," Y/N shot back, his voice cracking just enough to betray the vulnerability underneath. "I didn’t ask for kids to show up and tell me I’m supposed to end up with someone who can’t stand me half the time! I didn’t ask to be put in a position where the second I feel like I can breathe, I’m right back at square one wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do now."

Conner felt like he was suffocating, standing there just outside the door, torn between barging in and finally letting all the anger and hurt pour out or walking away before he said or did something that couldn’t be taken back. His heart hammered in his chest, the fury building alongside the urge to just smash something, anything, to release the pressure that was pushing down on him. But he couldn’t. Not like this.

Zatanna sighed heavily, the sound filled with both exasperation and empathy. "I get it, Y/N. I do. This situation isn’t fair to you. It’s a lot. And I don’t envy the position you’re in. But pushing Conner and the kids away isn’t the answer. You’re scared, and I get that too, but don’t let fear make decisions for you. You care about them—I know you do, even if you won’t admit it. And maybe—just maybe—you need to stop fighting against this so hard and try to see it from Conner’s side. You might find that you’re not as alone in this as you think."

Y/N let out a bitter chuckle. "Alone? You think I’m not alone? Have you seen how we’ve been? Every time I try to meet him halfway, I get shut down. Every single time. I’m done fighting for something that’s never going to work. He’s made that clear. Hell, if it weren’t for the kids being here, I wouldn’t even be considering any of this! Tell me, Z, in what world do you see me and Conner—two people who are always at each other's throats—sharing a bed for absolutely no reason at all. I'm surprised nothing in my room was broken or destroyed by the time the sun came up."

Conner’s jaw tightened. So that’s it, huh? The only reason Y/N was even still in this mess was because of the kids. That was the line. That was the breaking point. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, the frustration turning to anger, sharp and hot. His vision blurred at the edges as he fought the overwhelming urge to kick the door down, to confront Y/N and make him understand how wrong he was.

But what would that solve? Another fight? Another shouting match that would just end with more resentment and more unresolved tension between them? He couldn’t do that again. Not now. Not after hearing everything Y/N had just said.

But walking away wasn’t an option either.

Zatanna’s voice softened again, but there was a weariness in it now. "Y/N, I get it. You're angry, you're hurt. But saying things like that—about the kids, about their future—it’s not fair to them or to yourself. You’re scared of getting hurt again, but pushing everyone away isn’t going to protect you. It’s just going to make things worse."

Y/N didn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence on the other side of the door. Conner’s heart pounded in his ears, the conflicting emotions swirling inside him like a storm. Part of him wanted to scream, to let Y/N know exactly how wrong he was. But another part of him—the part that had heard the hurt in Y/N’s voice, the vulnerability behind the sarcasm—wanted to do something else entirely. Something that scared him just as much.

Before Conner could make a decision, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. He turned just in time to see Wally, Dick, and Artemis heading toward him. Wally raised an eyebrow, his eyes darting between Conner and the closed door. "Uh... everything okay, man?"

Conner stiffened, his fists still clenched. "I... it’s fine."

Dick frowned, clearly unconvinced. "We need you in the mission room. Batman just got a hit on something. It’s big."

Artemis glanced toward the study door, her sharp eyes catching the tension in Conner’s stance. She gave him a knowing look before she stepped forward. "I’ll go get Y/N and Zatanna."

Conner wanted to protest, wanted to stop her, but he couldn’t find the words. Before he knew it, Artemis had already knocked and entered the room, leaving him standing there with his heart still racing and his mind still tangled in a web of conflicting emotions.

A moment later, Y/N emerged, his eyes immediately finding Conner's like a magnet. There was a flash of something in his expression, but it was gone before Conner could even begin to decipher it. Y/N brushed past him without a word, his shoulders tense and his jaw set.

Conner watched him go, the anger and frustration still simmering beneath the surface. And as they turned to leave for the mission room, the Kryptonian couldn’t help but glance toward Y/N in front of him, his retreating back a stark reminder of the distance between them. His anger hadn’t faded—it still simmered just beneath the surface—but there was something else now too. Something he couldn’t quite name. Something that made it impossible to walk away, no matter how much he wanted to.

And that scared him more than anything.

Batman’s gaze remained locked on the multiple video feeds displayed across the console, his usual stoic expression growing more grim by the second. "Late yesterday, our computers picked up on a surge of interesting reports," he began. "People reporting their cars stolen or missing, wild animal sightings, and sudden changes in temperature. At first, we thought they were isolated and random events. But we kept an eye on them just in case it turned out to be more."

Kaldur, ever the attentive listener, leaned in slightly. "They turned out to be more?"

"Much more," Batman responded, his fingers swiftly typing across the console to pull up a series of chaotic images and videos from Boston. The entire team turned to face the screens as footage of cars, objects, and even large pieces of buildings being torn apart and flung into the air played on the screen. More clips followed—animals that clearly weren’t native to the area running rampant through the streets, attacking anything in sight. The streets themselves seemed warped, as parks and intersections were transformed into different ecosystems—a tundra, a jungle, and even a volcanic landscape, each more out of place than the last.

"A small number of the Justice League was deployed early this morning to respond to these incidents," Batman continued, pulling up a map showing the spread of the chaos. "But the situation has only escalated. The environments are not only unstable, they’re... evolving. What started as small, localized disruptions has grown into widespread chaos. And they’re intensifying by the hour."

Artemis crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. "How bad are we talking?"

"Bad," Batman said, turning to face the team fully. "I believe the warning we received from Doctor Fate had more merit to it than we hoped." The mention of Fate caused a ripple of tension through the room. "He believes we’re dealing with an ancient magical anomaly, something that hasn't been seen in centuries, and that these chaotic events are due to the arrival of our... special guests." His eyes flicked briefly toward CJ, Colin, and Camden.

The kids stiffened at the mention, exchanging glances.

"Wait... you’re saying this is because of us?" Colin asked, his tone tinged with both confusion and worry.

Batman’s response was direct. "Yes. The random reports and strange events started just last night. We weren't aware at the time, but the beginning of these events coincides with the time you three arrived." His voice didn’t carry accusation, just facts. But the weight of his words hung heavily in the air.

CJ’s expression remained strangely neutral, though Y/N noticed something in his son’s eyes—something like understanding, but not the kind of fear or confusion he would expect. Y/N’s gaze lingered on CJ for a moment, but he didn’t say anything.

"So, what do we do?" Conner asked, his expression hardening.

Y/N's eyes flicked to Conner, catching the hard edge in his voice, the tension unmistakable. It wasn’t just the situation weighing on him; there was something deeper, something personal brewing beneath the surface. And Y/N wasn’t the only one who noticed. Colin's gaze dropped, his usual mischievous energy dulled as the weight of responsibility settled on his young shoulders. CJ, however, remained quiet, still unreadable, though Y/N could feel the tension radiating from him like a coiled spring.

Batman didn’t miss the shift either. His voice remained calm, but there was an urgency to it now. "We need to stabilize the situation in Boston before it spreads. Many members of the Justice League haven’t reported back, and their silence is concerning. The biggest problem, though, isn't just the animals or the environmental disruptions." He pressed a button on the console, and the screen shifted to show a massive tear in the sky over Boston. A swirling, violent rift of dark energy hovered ominously above the city, crackling with magic. "A magical rift has opened, centered over Boston. That rift is the source of the anomalies."

The team stared at the image, eyes wide. The rift pulsed with a dark energy that made the hair on the back of Y/N’s neck stand on end just by looking at it.

"The entire Justice League was sent out to respond," Batman explained, "but we haven’t heard back from them for some time. There’s been radio silence from their end for the last thirty minutes."

"That’s not good," Dick muttered under his breath.

"No, it isn’t," Batman agreed. "I'm sending you all there immediately to investigate and intervene. But..." He turned his gaze to Y/N. "Zatanna will stay behind to continue working on the spell with CJ’s assistance. I believe sending them back home to their timeline may be the only way to stop these anomalies for good."

CJ’s expression remained passive, though Y/N noticed the way Colin stiffened at the mention of going home, his eyes wide and filled with guilt.

"We don’t want to mess things up," Colin whispered, his voice tight.

Y/N placed a hand on Colin’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, this isn’t your fault, Colt. We’re gonna fix this."

Colin’s worried expression softened as a small smile crept across his face, and next to him, CJ’s lips curled into a matching grin. They exchanged a quick look before turning back to their father, the tension from a moment ago fading slightly. Y/N caught the change in their demeanor, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"What are you two smiling about?" he asked, his voice gentle but curious. Colin glanced at CJ before looking up at Y/N. "You called me 'Colt,'" he said, his grin widening. "That’s the nickname we came up with in the future. You always call me that." CJ nodded in agreement, his own smile reflecting the same fondness.

Y/N blinked at the revelation, a strange warmth spreading through his chest at the thought that, in some future timeline, he and Colin had this kind of bond. It felt oddly natural, like he was slipping into a role he hadn’t quite realized he was ready for. Colin and CJ were still smiling, their expressions lighter, and for a brief moment, Y/N let himself feel the weight of their affection. It was... nice, for a brief moment.

He opened his mouth to say something—maybe a teasing remark about how he should’ve guessed the kids would come up with such a cool nickname—but the seriousness of the situation quickly pulled him back. They were still in the midst of chaos, after all. His gaze shifted to the rest of the team, and that familiar, nervous tension returned to his gut.

Before Y/N could say anything further, Batman's voice sliced through the air, firm and commanding. "Alright, we can’t waste any more time," he said, cutting off any brewing conversations or potential arguments. "You'll be split into two teams based on your abilities. Here’s how this will work."

The room fell silent, everyone turning their attention to him. "Aqualad," Batman continued, locking his eyes on the Atlantean, "you’ll lead the first team to handle ground operations along with Superboy, Kid Flash, and Artemis. Your focus is handling the anomalies, managing the chaos, and protecting civilians. Also, locate any League members and assist them as needed. Keep them safe and minimize further damage. Use whatever resources you need."

The room remained tense as Batman continued, his gaze shifting toward Y/N. "Y/N, you’ll lead the second team with Robin and Miss Martian. Your task is to deal with the rift directly. It’s magical in nature, and based on what we know, you’re the only one with the necessary skills to close it. Miss Martian will assist with psychic communication, and Robin will handle any technical or tactical complications."

Y/N nodded, his expression serious. "Got it."

Before Y/N or anyone else could move, Conner’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and unyielding. "No way. Y/N, you’re staying here with the kids."

Y/N blinked, standing up from where he knelt beside Colin, his brows knitting together. "Excuse me?"

Conner crossed his arms, his expression firm and unwavering. "You’re not going to Boston. You’re staying here."

Around them, the tension in the room skyrocketed. Zatanna and Artemis exchanged uneasy glances, while Wally shifted on his feet, clearly bracing himself. Everyone knew what was coming; the team instinctively prepared for another explosive clash.

Y/N narrowed his eyes, frustration building in his chest. "And why exactly would I stay behind when I’m one of the only people here who understands how to deal with magical threats?"

"Because I’m not letting you get caught in the middle of this while our kids are here!" Conner snapped, his voice rising.

Y/N’s jaw clenched. "I’m not some helpless bystander, Conner. I can handle myself, and right now, the rift is the priority."

"The kids are the priority!" Conner shot back, his eyes blazing. "I’m not letting you go out there and risk your life when our sons are—"

"Enough." Batman’s voice cut through the argument like a knife, sharp and commanding. He stepped between the two of them, his gaze stern. "Y/N is the only one who might be able to close the rift. His magic is directly tied to the arrival of CJ, Colin, and Camden. If the rift was caused by their presence here, then Y/N’s magic may be the only thing capable of closing it."

Conner glared at Batman, his fists clenched tight enough that his knuckles turned white. "Then I'm going with him."

Batman didn't flinch. His tone was calm but firm, the kind of authority that couldn’t be ignored. "No, you're not. You're needed on the ground, dealing with the environmental and animal threats. This is a magical anomaly, and the team needs someone with the expertise to handle that. That's Y/N."

"I'm not letting him go alone," Conner growled, taking a step forward as if challenging the decision.

Batman’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a dangerously low register. "You're not the one who makes that decision, Conner. And Y/N won’t be alone. Robin and Miss Martian will be with him, along with any League members still on the scene. They'll ensure he has the support he needs."

Before Conner could respond, CJ stepped forward, tugging at his dad's arm. "Dad, it’s okay," he said, his voice steady in a way that was unnerving for a kid his age. "Papa's strong. He'll be fine. He’s got this." CJ’s quiet confidence washed over Conner like a calming wave, his blue eyes—so much like Conner’s own—looking up at him with unwavering trust.

Y/N noticed the subtle exchange, his gaze lingering on CJ. Something in the boy’s demeanor, that calm assurance, struck Y/N once again. But he held back from saying anything, choosing instead to focus on the task at hand. Conner, for his part, let out a deep breath, his posture softening slightly, though the tension in his shoulders remained.

Before anyone could take a step forward, a small voice broke through the tense silence. "Papa... Daddy..." Camden’s soft, trembling voice wavered as he looked between Y/N and Conner, his tiny hands clutching the hem of his father’s shirt. His wide eyes brimmed with tears, lip quivering as the realization settled in—both his parents were leaving. "No go," he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. "Stay wif me. No go."

Y/N immediately knelt down beside his youngest, his heart twisting at the sight of Camden’s tears. He reached out, gently cupping the little boy's cheek. "Hey, hey, it’s okay, Cam. Papa’s not going anywhere forever. We’re just going to fix the big problem, and then we’ll come right back. Okay?"

But Camden wasn’t having it. His small hands reached out, grabbing onto Y/N’s shirt as if to anchor him in place. "Noooo, Papa! No go! Stay wif Cam!" The words came out in hiccuping sobs, and before Y/N could even respond, Conner had already knelt down beside them.

"It’s okay, bud," Conner murmured, his voice softer than anyone had heard it in a while. He gently lifted Camden into his arms, holding him close against his chest. "We’ll both be back before you know it. Aunt Zatanna’s gonna take care of you while we’re gone, alright? You’ll be safe."

Camden buried his face in Conner’s neck, his tiny body shaking with sobs. "Nooo... wanna stay wif Daddy... Papa..." His babbles were barely coherent now, muffled by Conner’s shirt as his small fists clung to him.

Y/N’s chest tightened at the sight of Camden’s tears, the sound of his son’s soft sobs tugging at his heart in a way nothing else could. But he forced a reassuring smile, placing a hand on Camden’s back. "We’ll be back really soon, okay, Camden? Aunt Z can show you some new magic tricks while we’re gone. How does that sound?"

Zatanna stepped forward, her expression soft and understanding. She held out her arms toward Camden, her tone gentle as she addressed him. "Hey there, big guy. Why don’t you come hang out with me for a bit? We’ll have fun, I promise."

After a few more moments of coaxing from both his parents, Camden finally loosened his grip, his tear-streaked face still buried against Conner's shoulder. Slowly, hesitantly, Conner passed him over to Zatanna, though the little boy still whimpered softly as she took him into her arms. "You’ll be okay, Cam," Conner whispered, brushing a hand through Camden’s dark hair before stepping back.

Y/N couldn’t help but watch the way Conner handled Camden, the tenderness in his touch, the quiet murmurs of reassurance, so different from the fire and stubbornness that had flared just moments ago. It was strange—how easily Conner shifted from the abrasive, hot-headed fighter to the soft-spoken, caring father. And despite all the chaos, despite the argument they’d nearly launched into, Y/N felt a tug of something deep in his chest. Fatherhood, it seemed, suited Conner more than Y/N would have expected. The Kryptonian’s natural protectiveness extended beyond just brute force; it was in the way he held Camden close, the way he whispered calm reassurances, like every word was meant to soothe the little boy’s fears. For a moment, Y/N almost forgot about the mission ahead.

He shook the thought away as Zatanna cradled Camden in her arms, the young boy finally quieting down, his hiccups slowing as Zatanna whispered softly to him. "I’ll keep an eye on them," she said to Y/N and Conner, her voice steady. "They’ll be safe here. Focus on what you need to do."

Y/N nodded, giving her a grateful look. "Thanks, Z." He turned to CJ and Colin, offering them a reassuring smile. "You two behave, alright? Help Aunt Z as much as you can."

CJ gave a small nod, his usual calm demeanor still present, though Y/N noticed the subtle determination in his expression. Colin, on the other hand, tried to put on a brave face, but Y/N could see the worry flickering in his eyes. "We’ll be okay," Colin said, though his voice wavered slightly. "Just... come back quick, okay?"

"Promise," Y/N replied softly, ruffling Colin’s hair before stepping back. He exchanged a final glance with Conner, their earlier tension still simmering beneath the surface, but now there was something unspoken between them—an understanding, however fragile, that they would both fight for their kids, for each other, even if they didn’t always agree.

Batman’s voice broke the moment, pulling them back to the task at hand. "Time to move. We’ve already lost too much time."

With a final look at his family, Y/N squared his shoulders and turned toward the zeta tube, the familiar swirl of light surrounding him as he prepared to confront the chaos in Boston.

The mission was a disaster before it even started.

The moment they arrived on the scene, it was like stepping into a nightmare—or worse, a magical hurricane on steroids. Boston wasn’t just in chaos; it was in pieces. Buildings hovered mid-air, entire streets warped into bizarre, shifting landscapes, and what looked like glowing neon vines were spreading across the city like it had been chosen as the set for an apocalyptic rave.

The team didn’t even have time to blink before they were hit with a wave of magical energy, the force of it sending shivers down their spines. Y/N, standing at the forefront, felt the familiar buzz of magic, but this was different. Wild. Unhinged. It was like a thousand magical threads all pulling in different directions, completely untethered. He could sense the power surging through the air, crackling with energy that had no business being there.

“What the hell is this?” Kid Flash muttered, staring at a car that was literally floating by like a balloon.

"Language," Robin chimed in, though he was just as unnerved.

Kid Flash shot Robin an unimpressed look. “Really? Now you’re pulling that?”

Robin gave a sheepish shrug, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, force of habit. The kids, you know?"

Conner scanned the area, his jaw clenched. "This isn't just magic. It’s chaos."

Y/N grimaced, eyes narrowing. "It’s more than that. The magic from the rift is spiraling out of control and destabilizing everything. Warping reality all around us.”

"Three kids caused all of this?" Artemis asked, incredulous.

"Well, technically, they haven't been born yet," Kid Flash pointed out. "So, yep, sounds about right."

As they moved deeper into the city, it became clear that nothing was untouched by the rift. People ran through the streets, some of them glowing as if they'd been hit with magical radiation, others transforming into strange, otherworldly creatures. One moment, a guy sprinted past them, looking normal enough—until he sprouted wings and took off into the sky like it was a completely rational thing to do on a Tuesday morning.

“Is that dude... part bird now?” Kid Flash asked, not even bothering to mask the disbelief in his voice.

Y/N watched with a mix of panic and fascination. “Yeah, it looks like it. That’s the kind of magical chaos we’re dealing with. Try to keep up.”

The air crackled again, and with each step closer to the rift, the environment shifted more dramatically. It wasn’t just the people being affected—entire blocks were freezing over in seconds, only to melt and turn into jungles or deserts moments later. One building seemed to be trapped in time, flickering between its current state and what looked like a medieval fortress.

It was like reality itself had been thrown into a blender, and someone had hit the highest speed setting.

Aqualad’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and focused. “We need to split up now! Artemis, Kid Flash, Superboy—fan out. We need to get people to safety and keep a lookout for any members of the Justice League. Y/N, Robin, Miss Martian—head for the rift. We’ll cover your flank.”

Superboy hesitated, his gaze lingering on Y/N as he nodded. There was something in Conner’s eyes—concern, frustration, maybe both—but Y/N couldn’t focus on that right now. He had his task, and the last thing he needed was to get distracted by Conner’s protective streak. Conner opened his mouth, like he was about to say something, but Y/N gave him a quick, determined nod before heading off toward the rift with Robin and Miss Martian in tow.

The team split off, each group moving with purpose through the chaotic cityscape. Superboy’s fists clenched as he watched Y/N disappear into the swirling madness ahead. "Be careful," he muttered under his breath, though Y/N was already too far to hear it.

As Aqualad led the others into the thick of the chaos, they dodged bursts of energy and tried to maintain a safe path for the civilians. Kid Flash darted from person to person, grabbing anyone who looked even remotely human and speeding them to the nearest shelter that wasn’t floating or shifting between realities. “Dude, this is like a magical acid trip gone wrong,” he muttered, dodging a glowing tree root that suddenly shot out from the ground.

“Stay focused, Kid,” Aqualad called over his shoulder. “We need to find the rest of the Justice League.”

Artemis fired a volley of arrows, knocking aside a swarm of neon-colored birds that were swooping down toward the civilians. As she reloaded, she glanced over at Superboy, who was busy punching a giant, glowing slug-like creature into the pavement. She watched as he ripped a car door off with far more force than necessary, letting the terrified people inside scramble out. "Hey, Supey, you doing okay?"

Superboy grunted, his fists clenching as the creature writhed beneath him. "Fine."

But he wasn't fine. Not even close. Every punch he threw was fueled by more than just the chaos around them. It was the gnawing worry at the back of his mind—twisting tighter with each passing second. The rift, the magic, Y/N out there somewhere—too close to the danger, too exposed. And then there was the conversation he'd overheard earlier, still simmering beneath the surface like a hot ember he couldn’t put out. Every word Y/N had said, the sarcasm and bitterness, how he had basically dismissed everything that had happened like it was nothing, felt like salt in an open wound.

He couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen, and the thought of being away from Y/N while he faced that rift felt like trying to fight with one arm tied behind his back. Worse, part of him was still angry—angry at Y/N for throwing up those walls, for acting like none of it mattered. But what made it worse was that Conner couldn’t tell if he was more furious at Y/N or at himself for not realizing how deep those scars ran.

His anger and worry mixed into a volatile blend, and every punch, every kick was a release he desperately needed. But none of it made him feel better.

"You sure?" Artemis pressed, her tone cautious as she loosed another arrow. "Because you seem a little tense."

"I'm fine," Superboy repeated, though his jaw tightened with each word, his voice a little more clipped than before. He slammed the slug creature into the ground again, more aggressively than necessary, trying to focus on the task at hand. But no matter how hard he hit, it didn’t stop the weight pressing on his chest—the same weight that had settled in the moment Y/N disappeared into the chaos.

Conner just wanted to get this over with, to punch his way through every problem and make sure Y/N was okay. But magic wasn’t something he could punch. And that made him feel powerless. Useless.

"Uh-huh." Artemis wasn’t convinced, but she knew better than to push him when he was like this. She pulled back another arrow, this time aiming for a cluster of glowing tentacles slithering toward a nearby building. But she could see the tension in Conner’s stance—the way his fists stayed clenched even when there was nothing left to hit. He wasn’t fine. He was worried.

Meanwhile, Y/N’s team moved swiftly, the eerie glow of the rift growing stronger with every step. The air was thick with magic, the kind that sent chills up Y/N’s spine. He could feel it as they got closer—something ancient, powerful, and very, very angry. The energy was wild, and the closer they got, the more erratic it became. Sparks of light crackled in the air, and the ground beneath them shifted as if reality itself was struggling to hold together.

“We’re close,” Robin said, his eyes scanning the distorted environment with a mixture of curiosity and unease. “But, is it just me, or does something feel really off? It feels like…”

“Like we’re being watched,” Miss Martian finished, her voice steady but tense. She hovered a little higher, her green skin glowing faintly as she reached out with her mind, trying to get a sense of what was ahead. But she quickly pulled back. “There’s something... someone near the rift. I can’t tell who, but their presence is overwhelming.”

Y/N's heart raced as the sensation grew stronger. He felt the energy around him tightening, like a binding rope or python trying to squeeze him. “Whoever—or whatever—it is, they’re using the magical energy from the rift to fuel themselves. We need to be ready for anything.”

He could feel his own magic stirring, a rush of energy he didn't recognize but still somehow felt humming through his veins. It was a strange sensation, like a muscle flexing, preparing for a fight. His fingers tingled, and the air around him seemed to shimmer, almost imperceptibly.

"I can feel it," Y/N murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "The energy. It's... it's like nothing I've ever felt before."

Robin frowned, his eyes darting around the area. "That's not good, is it?"

"Nope, probably not," Y/N answered.

The closer they got to the rift, the more oppressive the energy became, like walking through thick, suffocating fog. The sky above them was torn open, swirling with dark, crackling energy, but it wasn’t just the rift that was the problem anymore. The presence Miss Martian had sensed—it was stronger now, looming over them like a shadow just out of reach.

As they approached the clearing near the rift, the ground shifted again, this time pulling away as if something massive was displacing the air itself. The sky above them darkened, the swirling mass of the rift glowing with an intense, unnatural light. And that’s when they saw him.

Y/N’s breath hitched as a figure began to emerge from the rift, hovering above the ground. At first, it was just an outline, a silhouette against the chaotic sky, but as the glow of the rift illuminated it, their worst fears were realized. Cloaked in dark, swirling magic, Superman floated in the air, his eyes glowing an unnatural, eerie green.

Something was wrong—terribly wrong. His normally calm and composed face was twisted in a snarl, his eyes glowing with that eerie, unnatural glow. Tendrils of dark energy spiraled around him, almost like chains, binding him to the rift.

Y/N’s breath hitched. “Oh no...”

Superman’s gaze locked onto them, but it wasn’t the familiar gaze of the Man of Steel. It was something else—something darker. And then, as if pulled by some unseen force, Superman’s attention shifted directly to Y/N.

Without warning, he shot toward them like a bullet, fists clenched, eyes blazing with magical energy. Y/N barely had time to react, throwing up a protective shield just as Superman’s fist collided with it, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. The force of the impact knocked Y/N back, his shield flickering as he struggled to hold it in place.

“Uh, guys. I think something's wrong with Superman,” Robin yelled, eyes wide with shock.

"Oh really, you think so?" Y/N shouted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I couldn't tell!"

Miss Martian, her eyes glowing white, tried to reach out to Superman, hoping to break through the haze of magic. But, the moment she touched his mind, she recoiled, her expression pained. "It's like his mind is screaming. I can't get through."

Y/N gritted his teeth, his hands shaking as he held up the shield.

“Y/N, can you—?”

“Working on it!” Y/N grunted, his magic straining against the overwhelming power of Superman’s attack. He could feel the dark energy coiling around Superman, like some kind of dark spirit or entity was latched onto him, controlling him. And worse—it looked like it was focused solely on the young magic user.

The rift above them pulsed violently, feeding the entity’s strength as it drove Superman forward again, his fists glowing with that same dark energy. Y/N braced himself, sweat trickling down his forehead as he prepared for another onslaught.

But, before Superman could strike, a blur of black and red shot past, tackling him mid-air with an angry shout.

Superboy.

The half-Kryptonian slammed into Superman, the force of his impact sending both Kryptonians crashing into a nearby building. The structure shook, but thankfully it held. Superman barely seemed fazed, his glowing eyes snapping toward Superboy as he regained his balance mid-air. The tendrils of dark energy flickered around him like an agitated beast, coiling tighter as if preparing for another assault.

Superboy landed in front of Y/N, fists clenched, his breathing heavy. His jaw tightened, his gaze locked on Superman, who was hovering ominously above them. "Stay behind me."

He didn’t even flinch as Superman’s eyes narrowed, a fresh wave of dark energy coiling around him. But Y/N was already bristling, his frustration bubbling over. “Are you insane?!” Y/N snapped, scrambling back to his feet, his eyes flashing with anger. “Do you know what you just did?”

Superboy didn’t tear his gaze away from Superman, his muscles coiled like springs ready to launch again. “Yeah, I saved your behind.”

“No, you didn’t!” Y/N’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp with anger and panic. “You’re supposed to be with Aqualad, helping the others! Not throwing yourself into a fight you cannot win. Superman’s juiced up with magic, Conner—he’s stronger than ever. You’ll get yourself killed!”

Superboy’s eyes flared, his own frustration boiling over. “And what, I’m supposed to just stand by and let you handle this alone? I’m not leaving you out here to face him by yourself!”

“I’m the one who can actually deal with this!” Y/N snapped, his fists clenched in frustration. “You’re only making it harder! I swear, you pull this stunt every time.”

“What, care about you?” Superboy shot back, his voice strained with a mix of anger and desperation.

“No, you put yourself in danger because you think you have to protect me,” Y/N hissed, his eyes flashing with fury. “Like I can’t handle it.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so reckless and actually stayed at the Cave like I told you, we wouldn’t even be in this mess!” Superboy countered, his jaw tightening as his temper flared.

“Who do you think you are?” Y/N scoffed, his frustration peaking. “And I’m not the one who just launched myself at a possessed Superman. You do realize that’s the textbook definition of reckless, right?”

Superboy’s growl deepened, his fists clenched so tight they trembled. He stepped closer to Y/N, frustration etched in every line of his face.

“If you two lovebirds are done, we’ve got bigger problems,” Robin cut in sharply, his voice tinged with urgency.

Y/N and Superboy froze mid-argument, their eyes snapping up toward Robin. Whatever anger had bubbled between them fizzled away as they realized what he was pointing to.

Superman hovered menacingly above them, his eyes glowing an even more vivid, unnatural green. Tendrils of dark energy coiled around his body like a living shadow, pulsing with an eerie power. His once-familiar face was a mask of pure malice, the heroic expression they knew replaced with something far more dangerous—predatory. His gaze locked onto them with a chilling intensity, his posture tense, ready to strike.

“Focus, guys,” Miss Martian urged, her voice tight as she floated beside them. “He’s about to attack.”

Superboy’s jaw tightened, and Y/N’s heart raced. Whatever had taken hold of Superman wasn’t letting go, and it had them squarely in its sights.

Back at the Cave, the quiet hum of the lights overhead was the only sound filling the air as Zatanna sat with CJ and Colin, keeping a watchful eye on the youngest Kent. Camden was currently asleep on one of the couches in her and Y/N’s study, wrapped in a blanket. It had taken some time to calm him down, especially since he had gotten more antsy after not being able to see Conner and Y/N before they left, but CJ had been a big help.

Speaking of CJ, Zatanna, ever perceptive, had noticed the strange and quiet behavior from the oldest Kent, something that Y/N had picked up on as well before they left for Boston. Y/N had even reached out through their magical connection, asking her to check on CJ and make sure everything was okay. There was something about the way he acted—like he knew something the rest of them didn’t.

“CJ, is there something on your mind?” Zatanna’s voice was soft, coaxing without pressuring.

CJ, sitting beside her, barely glanced up from his phone, his expression guarded and unreadable. “What do you mean?”

Zatanna offered him a kind smile. “You’ve been pretty quiet since the others left. Is everything alright?”

He hesitated, a flicker of conflict crossing his face before he sighed softly. “I’m fine. Just... worried about Dad and Papa.”

Zatanna watched CJ closely, noting the way his eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite place—hesitation, maybe. There was something more behind the boy’s silence than just the usual concern for his parents.

"Your fathers are strong, you know that, right?" Zatanna offered with a warm smile, hoping to ease whatever tension was weighing him down. "Whatever they're facing, they’ve got each other and the team to back them up."

CJ nodded, but it was clear her words weren’t doing much to lift the cloud hanging over him. His fingers drummed lightly against his phone, his eyes distant. "I know they’re strong. I'm not really worried about that," he muttered.

Zatanna leaned forward slightly, her brow furrowed. "Then what are you worried about, CJ?" Her tone softened further, sensing there was something deeper at play. "You’re holding something back, I can tell. If you’re worried about more than just the fight, you can talk to me. I’ll keep it between us."

CJ glanced at Colin, who had been quietly sitting cross-legged on the floor. The younger boy looked equally conflicted, like he knew exactly what CJ was thinking but wasn’t sure how to express it. After what felt like forever, CJ sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s not the fight. Not really."

Zatanna waited patiently, giving him the space to continue.

"It’s just... the green lady," CJ said, his tone carrying more weight than she expected. "I don’t trust her. Neither of us do."

"The green lady?" Zatanna’s confusion was brief before realization dawned. "You mean M’Gann?"

Zatanna’s mind raced as she connected the dots. She had noticed it too—the way the boys interacted so easily with most of the team. They had a natural rhythm and rapport with nearly everyone, treating them like family. To them, everyone was either an Aunt or Uncle. They were always joking with Dick and Wally, learning fighting moves from Kaldur, and laughing at Artemis’ stories. Even their comfort around Superman and, surprisingly, Batman had caught Zatanna's attention. They had slipped into these relationships as if it was second nature.

But with M’Gann, it had been different. The boys were distant, almost cold, and while M’Gann wasn’t unfriendly, she too seemed hesitant. Zatanna had chalked it up to natural awkwardness, considering their sudden appearance, but now, hearing CJ refer to her as "the green lady" in such a cold tone, it was clear something deeper was going on.

"I’ve noticed you two keep your distance from her," Zatanna said carefully, studying both CJ and Colin’s faces. "And... she tries to get close, but there’s always some wall. Do you mind telling me why?"

CJ glanced at Colin again, and this time, it was Colin who spoke, his voice soft but steady. "She’s... different where we’re from. Really different."

Zatanna raised an eyebrow slightly. "Different how?"

CJ shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze dropping to his hands. "She... doesn’t like us much. Not really. She doesn’t like the idea of Dad and Papa together, and she’s—" He hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words without revealing too much.

"She tries to keep them apart," Colin finished quietly, his eyes trained on the floor. "She says things, does things... to make them fight sometimes. We’ve seen it."

Zatanna frowned, her heart aching at the weight these boys were carrying. She leaned in a little closer, her voice gentle but firm. "That sounds... complicated. But remember, this is a different timeline. People here aren’t the same as the ones you know. You’ve seen that, right?"

Colin nodded, but his eyes remained downcast. "We don’t mean to be mean, but she’s very different from the one we know with our parents. We’ve tried to find ways to tell Dad and Papa... but we don’t know how. Every time we try, something stops us. It feels like something is stopping us from interfering, and I don’t know how to make them see what we see." His voice cracked slightly, and he glanced at CJ for support.

CJ picked up where his brother left off, his voice steady but filled with frustration. "The M’Gann from our timeline, she’s... worse. She always tries to come between our parents, always messing things up for them. Sometimes she makes them fight each other. We’ve seen her do it so many times, and it always makes Papa and Dad upset. Sometimes at each other."

Zatanna’s eyes widened slightly, the pieces falling into place. "So, that’s why you two act so strange around her. You’ve been calling her 'the green lady' because you don’t trust her."

CJ nodded again, his expression darkening. "Every time I look at her, I see everything she did to hurt them in our time. And now, with us here, it feels like we’ve managed to do the one thing she’s been trying to do for as long as I can remember—keep them apart. What if we really messed things up? What if Papa never forgives Dad for everything that happened? I see how Dad looks at Papa, but... it doesn’t feel like Papa feels the same way. Especially when Dad’s around. It scares me. Like we’ve made things worse, just by being here."

Zatanna sighed softly, her heart aching for the boys. She could see how much they were carrying—fear, guilt, and the heavy burden of a future they weren’t supposed to interfere with. She knew they were holding back more than they were saying, but she also knew the dangers of knowing too much about the future. They were in a precarious spot, balancing on the edge of what they could share and what had to be kept hidden.

“CJ, Colin," she began gently, leaning forward to meet their eyes, "you’re not responsible for your parents’ lives. It’s easy to think that because you’ve seen so much, but love is complicated. There’s a lot of history between your Papa and Dad—some of which you haven’t seen yet, and some you might never need to see. What matters now is that they’re both strong, and they’re both fighting for what’s right. You being here... I don’t think you’ve ruined anything. If anything, I think you've actually opened their eyes.”

Before they could respond, the air in the room shifted—a crackle of magic filling the atmosphere, a familiar, tingling sensation that made Zatanna straighten immediately.

The atmosphere grew thick with energy, and a bright light bloomed in the corner of the room, just like when the boys first arrived—though this time, it was focused in one spot, far more controlled than the chaotic arrival from before. Zatanna’s senses heightened immediately as she recognized the magical aura, though there was something different about it. It was familiar, but stronger, more commanding, like CJ’s presence magnified, though this one carried with it a weight of experience.

As the light dimmed, Zatanna turned around, her eyes widening at the sight of two figures standing in the room—one taller, broader in the shoulders, still wearing a shirt that looked a size too small, while the other carried the same mischievous glint she knew all too well, tempered now by time and wisdom. Her breath caught in her throat as CJ and Colin’s faces lit up with pure joy.

“Zatanna, are you telling my kids stories again?” His voice was unmistakable, carrying that signature teasing, sarcastic tone.

"You are such a freaking idiot."

The words came out in stuttered breaths, each one sharp and ragged as Y/N lay pinned beneath the weight of Conner. His chest heaved with exhaustion, every breath a reminder of the strain his magic had taken on him during the battle. Conner didn’t move, his broad form pressing down heavily against Y/N, arms still wrapped protectively around his middle as though the fight wasn’t over yet. His grip was firm, almost too tight, as if letting go would mean surrendering Y/N to the chaos that had just unfolded.

They were both breathing hard, lungs burning as they tried to recover. The wreckage of the building around them was a brutal reminder of what they had just been through. The entity that had possessed Superman had been relentless, breaking free from the rift, driven by an insatiable hunger for power—magic, specifically. It had been searching for the source, seeking something ancient, something it believed would restore it to full strength. It had sensed CJ’s magic first, the magic that had torn the rift open. But when it found Y/N’s magical presence, something familiar, it zeroed in on him with a terrifying, singular focus.

Y/N could still hear the chilling words the entity had spoken through Superman’s lips, his voice distorted and twisted with malevolence:

"Ah, now it makes sense..." The entity’s voice slithered out of Superman’s mouth, twisted and unnatural, sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. "The power I felt... that magic I sensed, so potent, so ancient... it called to me, even from within my prison. A power like that could only belong to someone with blood like yours." The entity's voice dropped, dripping with venomous amusement, each word laced with a cruel edge. "Yours is different from what I felt before... refined, controlled. But the first pulse I sensed was raw, untamed—much like you once were. A child, then. A child with blood like yours."

Superman’s—no, the entity’s—eyes gleamed, glowing with an eerie green light, filled with a malice that made Y/N’s stomach churn. "Your child, I assume. Familiar, yes... a direct descendant. How fitting." The thing let out a low, sinister chuckle that felt like nails on glass. "I will enjoy watching your line fall. I’ve waited so long... and today, both you and your whelp will suffer for what was taken from me. What your bloodline stole so long ago will finally be mine again."

The words hung in the air like a curse, dark and twisted, and Y/N felt his heart lurch in his chest. His hands shook, both with fear, but also a surge of protectiveness so strong it nearly overwhelmed him. He’d known CJ and Colin for less than 24 hours, but the very idea of anything harming them lit a fire inside him that burned brighter than any magic he’d ever wielded.

His jaw clenched, his breath quickening as he stared down this ancient evil wearing Superman’s face. The entity’s words echoed in his mind, its chilling threat against CJ ringing louder than the chaos of the battle around him. His magic flared to life, sparking at his fingertips. Not his kids. Not today.

Y/N wasn’t ready to be a parent—hell, he wasn’t sure he ever would be—but that didn’t matter right now. This thing, this twisted, malevolent force had come here looking to destroy his child. And no matter how outmatched he was, no matter how much stronger this entity might be, Y/N wasn’t going to let that happen. He’d take on anything—demons, gods, even Superman himself—if it meant protecting CJ.

"You’re not touching him," Y/N growled, his voice low and dangerous. Magic surged around him, crackling like wildfire. "I don’t care what you think you’re owed. You’re not getting past me."

Even as the odds stacked against him, Y/N felt something unshakable in his core. A new kind of strength, one that didn’t come from spells or incantations. It came from the protectiveness he felt for his son—the child who had come from some future he barely understood but who he was already willing to lay everything on the line for.

The entity grinned, the malice in its expression deepening. "Brave words for a dead man. You will watch your child fall before I take you next."

Y/N didn’t respond, his entire focus shifting to the battle ahead. His fear was there, gnawing at him, but so was something more powerful. For CJ, Colin, and Camden—for his sons—Y/N would fight until his last breath.

The battle had been nothing short of a nightmare, each moment a desperate attempt to stop the possessed Superman while keeping the team safe. Y/N had thrown every ounce of magic he had into protecting them—shields, energy blasts, containment spells—but none of it had been enough. The entity had twisted Superman’s powers, amplifying them with its own dark energy. Magic that would have at least slowed Superman down had no effect. And if they hadn’t been able to handle Superman without magic, how could they hope to stop him with it?

Still, it hadn’t stopped Conner. He fought like a man possessed himself, throwing everything he had between Y/N and the corrupted Kryptonian. Blow after blow, Conner absorbed the hits, bloodied but undeterred, keeping Superman distracted just long enough for Y/N to work out a plan. The rest of the team, alongside a few Justice League members Aqualad and the others had managed to find, had joined the fray. They'd been overpowered early on, knocked out when the entity first took control. The dark magic amplifying Superman’s abilities had caught them completely off guard.

But he never wavered.

Y/N quickly realized that fighting head-on would be a losing game. The entity's power, amplified by Superman’s, was far too overwhelming. But the rift—the thing that had brought it here in the first place—was still open, pulsating with chaotic energy, tearing the fabric of reality apart. That was when Y/N knew what had to be done. If he could close the rift, the entity would lose its anchor to this dimension. And with any luck, that would drive it out of Superman’s body.

It was a gamble, and a long shot at best.

Throwing himself into the task, Y/N channeled every ounce of magic he had left, weaving a spell to close the rift. The entity sensed it almost immediately. It directed Superman’s relentless attacks toward Y/N, trying to stop him. But Conner—bruised, battered, yet still standing—fought tooth and nail to keep Superman at bay, taking hit after punishing hit to buy Y/N just enough time.

Y/N could still feel the power surging through him, every part of his body alight with the energy required to seal the tear in reality. But it drained him. The spell needed everything he had, and in those final moments, just as he forced the rift to close with a deafening crack, he felt his consciousness slipping away. The world blurred, the sounds of battle fading as he fell from the sky, too exhausted to keep himself afloat.

That was when Conner leaped. He caught Y/N mid-air, his powerful arms wrapping around him as they fell into the wreckage of the collapsing building below, shielding him from the worst of the impact.

The rift sealed, and with it, the entity’s hold on Superman shattered. It was pulled back into the prison from which it had escaped, leaving Superman himself unconscious but finally free from its control.

And now, here they were—lying in the rubble, both too exhausted to move, trying to catch their breath. Y/N groaned again, the full weight of Conner pressing down on him, his body too heavy and too warm against Y/N’s aching frame.

"You do realize you're crushing me, right?" Y/N rasped out, each word strained and breathless, still pinned under Conner’s weight. His chest was heaving, trying to catch up with the breath that had been knocked out of him. Conner, on the other hand, didn’t budge. His arms remained locked around Y/N, his breath still hot against Y/N’s neck, and while the battle was over, it felt like the two of them were still fighting... something.

"Don't care," Conner murmured, his voice rough and strained. "You're not going anywhere."

Y/N groaned, the exhaustion creeping into his bones, mixing with the heat of Conner’s body pressing against him. "Dude, in case you didn't notice, the fight's over and you're kind of heavy. Please, get off me," he managed to huff between labored breaths.

Conner made no move to shift. "You’re fine," he said, though the protective edge in his voice didn’t waver. His arms still refused to let go, as if he couldn’t stand the thought of Y/N slipping away, even for a second.

"Seriously, man, I’m suffocating here." Y/N squirmed a little, not so much because he couldn’t breathe, but because the warmth and proximity were... uncomfortable. Not physically, but in a way he didn’t want to think too hard about. "Get off already."

"No." Conner’s voice was unyielding, a stubborn refusal that sent an involuntary shiver down Y/N’s spine.

"Are you serious right now?" Y/N craned his neck to glance at him. "This is ridiculous."

"I’m serious," Conner replied, his voice low. "I’m not moving until I’m sure you’re okay."

Y/N narrowed his eyes, irritation flaring up despite the exhaustion. "I’m fine. I’m alive, aren’t I? Now get off me before I hex you into next week."

Conner snorted softly, but his grip still didn’t loosen. "Like I’d let you."

Y/N bristled at the arrogance in his tone, trying to ignore the fact that his heart was hammering a little too fast. "What’s your deal, huh? Why are you always trying to play hero?"

"I’m not—" Conner’s voice was rough, and he shifted just enough to catch Y/N’s eyes. "I’m not trying to be a hero. I’m just trying to keep you safe."

Y/N’s temper flared at that. He shoved at Conner’s chest, trying to push him off, but of course, it was like shoving a brick wall. "I don’t need you to keep me safe, Conner. I’m not some fragile little flower. I’ve been dealing with stuff like this long before you ever decided to—"

"That’s not fair," Conner cut him off, his voice hardening. "You’re the one who’s always putting yourself in danger. What am I supposed to do, just sit around and wait for you to get hurt?"

"I can take care of myself," Y/N snapped, eyes flashing. "I don’t need you or anyone else to protect me. I’m not a damsel in distress."

"That’s not what I’m saying—"

"Then what are you saying?" Y/N challenged, his voice rising.

Conner’s jaw clenched, his breath coming in heavy, frustrated bursts. His eyes locked with Y/N’s, something dark and stormy flickering in their depths, and for a split second, it looked like he was about to argue back—like they were going to keep bickering until one of them snapped.

But then something shifted in Conner’s gaze, something that made Y/N’s breath catch in his throat.

Before Y/N could get another word in, Conner’s hand shot up, his fingers gripping Y/N’s jaw with firm but careful pressure. He tilted Y/N’s face up, his grip unyielding, and Y/N’s heart raced, heat flaring in his chest as he realized what was about to happen.

"Conner, I swear—"

The rest of Y/N’s protest died in his throat as Conner’s lips crashed down onto his, cutting off any words that might have followed. The kiss was sudden, fierce, filled with a rawness that felt like all the frustration and tension that had been building between them was finally boiling over. Conner’s mouth moved against Y/N’s with a desperation that sent a jolt of fire through him, the heat between them blazing in an instant.

Y/N’s first instinct was to shove him away—to push back against the overwhelming intensity of it all—but his body betrayed him. His hands, which had been pushing against Conner’s chest moments ago, faltered, fingers curling against the fabric of Conner’s shirt as he fought between wanting to resist and wanting to melt into the kiss.

Conner’s other hand slid down, wrapping around Y/N’s waist, pulling him even closer—if that was even possible—until there was no space between them. Y/N felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of Conner’s body and the sheer force of the kiss, and yet... he didn’t hate it. In fact, the heat of it, the possessiveness, the way Conner’s lips moved against his like he couldn’t bear to let go—it was enough to make Y/N’s mind spin.

His breath hitched, a small sound of protest caught somewhere in the back of his throat, but it was swallowed by the heat of Conner’s mouth. Y/N’s heart pounded so loudly in his ears that it drowned out everything else—the rubble, the aftermath, the fact that they had almost died. None of it mattered. Not in this moment. Not with Conner’s lips moving so fiercely against his, like kissing Y/N was the only thing tethering him to the ground.

Y/N should have been angry. He should have shoved Conner away, demanded an explanation, demanded they talk it out like they always did. But as Conner’s fingers tightened their grip on his jaw, forcing Y/N’s lips to part just slightly, and as his tongue brushed against his bottom lip with an insistent hunger, Y/N’s thoughts scattered.

Every nerve in Y/N’s body was alight, buzzing with the sensation of Conner’s touch. He felt like he was being burned alive from the inside out, his skin tingling, his heart racing so fast he thought it might explode. He wanted to scream, wanted to shout at Conner for being such an idiot—for making everything so complicated—but at the same time, he wanted to drown in the heat of the kiss, in the way Conner’s hands felt like they were made to hold him.

The push and pull inside Y/N warred with itself, but the kiss—it was relentless, pulling him under, making his mind go blank. It was overwhelming, suffocating, but in the best possible way. Every time he tried to pull back, Conner’s hand would tighten just a bit, his lips pressing harder, like he wasn’t ready to let Y/N go.

And maybe Y/N wasn’t ready to let go, either.

When they finally pulled apart, gasping for air, Y/N’s head was spinning, his lips tingling from the bruising intensity of the kiss. Conner’s forehead pressed against his, their breaths mingling in the small space between them, both of them panting like they had just been through another fight.

"That’s what I’m saying," Conner murmured, his voice rough, his breath hot against Y/N’s lips.

Y/N blinked, his mind still trying to catch up to what had just happened. His heart hammered against his ribcage, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he stared up at Conner, wide-eyed and completely disoriented. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words got stuck in his throat.

All he could do was stare at Conner, his thoughts a chaotic mess of confusion, anger, and something else—something warm and dangerous, something he didn’t want to admit he felt. His lips still tingled from the kiss, his skin still burning from where Conner’s hands had touched him, and Y/N had no idea what to say.

"I couldn’t just... stand by," Conner said, his voice a rough whisper, his forehead still pressed against Y/N’s. "I couldn’t lose you."

Y/N swallowed hard, his pulse racing as he stared into Conner’s eyes, the weight of everything between them pressing down like a storm about to break.

"You can be so damn reckless," Conner continued, his voice low and strained. "I can't stand it."

Conner’s chest heaved with every breath, his forehead still pressed against Y/N’s. His heart was pounding, louder than the chaos around them, louder than his own thoughts. There was so much he wanted to say, and for once in his life, Conner Kent wasn’t sure where to start. His hands, still gripping Y/N’s waist and jaw, felt like they were the only things tethering him to reality.

"You can be so damn reckless," Conner finally muttered, his voice low and strained. "I can’t stand it."

Y/N was about to snap back—about to say something sharp or sarcastic, probably both in response—but Conner wasn’t done.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" Conner’s voice cracked, a rare vulnerability leaking into his tone. His fingers tightened their grip on Y/N’s waist, his breath shallow as he tried to piece his thoughts together. "From the moment you joined the team, I couldn’t figure it out. I couldn’t understand why I was so... drawn to you. It scared me and I just tried to avoid and ignore it and you. But then when you started avoiding me, ignoring me... and I didn’t know how to deal with."

Y/N’s lips parted to respond, but Conner shook his head, not letting him interrupt. "It irritated the hell out of me. Every time we argued, every time you shut me out, it just made me... angrier. But not in the way I was used to. I wasn’t just mad—I was hurt. And I didn’t know how to handle it, so I lashed out. And then I’d regret it. Every damn time."

Conner’s voice softened, his forehead pressing even more firmly against Y/N’s. "You always pushed back, fought me at every turn, and instead of backing off, I wanted to fight harder. Because... I hated how much I cared. It didn’t make sense to me, not at first. I didn’t want to care."

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, his pulse quickening as Conner’s words sank in. But still, he remained silent, letting Conner get it all out.

"And then these past 24 hours... I don't know, Y/N." Conner’s voice cracked again, this time from the sheer weight of everything. "Since CJ, Colin, and Camden showed up... I didn't know what to make of that and I just tried to ignore my thoughts and feelings harder. Seeing them, knowing what could be... it scared me. But it also made me realize how much I couldn’t stand the idea of losing you. I don’t care about the past or the arguments or the crap we’ve been through. All I care about is the fact that... I can’t imagine my life without you in it."

Y/N’s breath hitched at those words, and Conner’s gaze softened, his thumb gently brushing against Y/N’s jaw. "I know I hurt you. I know I pushed you away, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t know how to deal with it—hell, I still don’t, but I can’t keep pretending like you don’t mean more to me than just... a teammate or a friend. I tried to ignore it for so long, but now, after everything, I can’t."

The tension in the air shifted, the weight of Conner’s words pressing down between them. Y/N’s chest felt tight, his mind spinning as Conner continued, his voice softer now.

"At some point, it started to feel like you didn't—like you don’t want me around, and it ate away at me. I get it, because I’ve been there too. But every argument, every stupid fight we had... it wasn’t because I hated you, Y/N. It was because I was terrified of how much I... cared."

Conner’s forehead finally lifted from Y/N’s, and their eyes met, the intensity between them crackling like static. "I’m sorry for all of it—for making things harder on you. But I need you to know... I’m not going anywhere. Not anymore."

Y/N’s heart was hammering in his chest, his head spinning from everything Conner had just laid out in front of him. He wanted to say something—anything—but for once, Y/N was at a loss for words. He stared up at the Kryptonian, wide-eyed and dazed, trying to make sense of the flood of emotions coursing through him.

But he wasn’t done yet.

"You’re important to me," Conner whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "More than I’ve ever let on. More than I’ve ever let myself admit. And if you need space, if you need time, I’ll give you that. But I can’t pretend anymore, Y/N. I can’t act like I don’t want you in my life. Because I do. I always have."

Y/N swallowed hard, his pulse still racing as Conner’s words finally sank in. Everything—the tension, the arguments, the hurt—it all clicked into place. This wasn’t just some pent-up frustration or tension from the battles they’d faced. This was something deeper. Something neither of them had fully understood until now.

Conner’s hands tightened their grip on Y/N’s waist, his thumb brushing softly against his jawline. "You’re not alone in this," he said quietly. "I’ve felt everything you’ve felt. I just didn’t know how to say it. Until now."

Y/N’s heart was pounding so loudly he was sure Conner could hear it. The rawness of Conner’s confession, the vulnerability in his voice... it was overwhelming, but also something Y/N hadn’t realized he needed to hear. Now, at least, he couldn't use the excuse that he didn't understand Conner anymore.

He'd probably still use it though if it helped him win an argument but that's just a toxic habit that will have to be unpacked later at some point.

Y/N blinked up at Conner, his heart still thundering in his chest, his mind racing to catch up with the sheer weight of everything Conner had just laid on the table. He wasn’t used to this—being the one someone poured their heart out to. And hearing all of it, laid bare like that, especially from someone as guarded as Conner, it was... overwhelming. Too much, almost.

And as much as Y/N wanted to take a moment, to gather his thoughts and sort through what he was feeling, the weight of the situation was all too literal.

"Wow," Y/N finally managed, his voice breathless, though not just from the emotional onslaught. "That was... deep. Really deep. And you know, I’d appreciate it more if I wasn’t currently suffocating under the weight of your muscled chest."

Conner blinked, surprise flickering in his eyes as he processed Y/N’s words. The tension broke for just a second, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Oh, right." He shifted, his body easing off Y/N’s a little, though he still didn’t let go entirely. His arms remained locked around Y/N’s waist, as if he wasn’t ready to fully separate just yet.

Y/N groaned as the pressure eased, the slight relief allowing him to take a proper breath. "Thanks. You’re built like a tank, you know that?"

Conner’s smile was small, but there was a warmth in it that made Y/N’s chest tighten. "I’ve heard that before."

Y/N felt the corner of his own lips twitch, the sarcastic comment easing some of the tension between them, but only for a moment. He glanced away, his gaze flickering to the wreckage around them, trying to find something—anything—to focus on other than the sheer vulnerability hanging in the air between them.

But Conner was relentless. His grip on Y/N’s waist tightened ever so slightly, pulling Y/N’s attention back to him, grounding him in the moment. "Y/N..." Conner’s voice was soft, almost hesitant. "I’m serious. I meant what I said."

Y/N swallowed hard, his chest tightening again as he forced himself to meet Conner’s gaze. "I know," he said, the words coming out quieter than he intended. "I... I get it. And... I hear you. It’s just..." He trailed off, his mind scrambling for something to say that didn’t feel too raw, too exposed. Vulnerability wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

He let out a shaky breath, trying to force some humor into his voice, though it didn’t come out as smoothly as he hoped. "Look, I’m not exactly great with... feelings, okay? You know that. You’ve seen that. And honestly, this whole thing is... a lot. It’s a lot to take in."

Conner didn’t say anything, just watched him with those intense blue eyes that made Y/N feel like he was being seen in a way he wasn’t used to.

Y/N’s fingers fidgeted slightly against Conner’s shirt, his mind still racing as he tried to find a way to explain how he felt without completely losing his nerve. "I’m not saying I don’t feel the same way," he continued, his voice softer now, more serious. "I’m just... I don’t know, Conner. I don’t know how to deal with this. With us. I didn’t exactly expect to have you drop... all of that on me right after we nearly died, you know?"

Conner’s lips quirked into a small, almost sheepish smile. "Timing’s never been my strong suit."

"Yeah, no kidding." Y/N let out a breathy chuckle, but it was laced with something deeper—an edge of vulnerability that he couldn’t quite mask with his usual sarcasm.

The smile faded from Conner’s face, replaced by that same look of quiet intensity, and Y/N felt his stomach flip. "You don’t have to have it all figured out," Conner said softly, his voice steady. "I don’t, either. But... I just needed you to know. I couldn’t keep pretending like I didn’t... care."

Y/N’s throat tightened again, and he struggled to find the right words. "You’ve... definitely made that clear," he muttered, his voice catching just slightly. His heart was pounding again, that uncomfortable mix of emotions—fear, warmth, something close to hope—tugging at him.

There was a long, heavy pause between them, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air. Y/N’s hands, still resting against Conner’s chest, flexed slightly, feeling the steady thrum of the Kryptonian’s heartbeat under his palm. It was steady. Strong. A quiet reminder of the man who had just thrown himself straight into danger, quite recklessly if it may be noted, just to keep Y/N safe.

"I’m scared," Y/N admitted before he could stop himself, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t easy to say, but it was the truth. And if Conner could lay everything bare like that, then maybe Y/N owed him the same. "I’m scared of... this. Of what this is and means. Scared that at some point, you'll change your mind and go back to ignoring me and pretending like I don't exist. I'm scared of getting hurt, but, I also am really scared of... losing you as well. Don't let that go to your already ginormous head."

"I’m scared," Y/N admitted before he could stop himself, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t easy to say, but it was the truth. And if Conner could lay everything bare like that, then maybe Y/N owed him the same. "I’m scared of... this. Of what it means. Scared that at some point, you’ll change your mind, go back to ignoring me, and pretend I don’t exist. I’m scared of getting hurt. But..." He hesitated, his voice faltering for a moment. "I’m also really scared of losing you. And don’t let that go to your already ginormous head."

Conner’s grip tightened around him, his eyes softening with an understanding that made Y/N’s heart stutter in his chest. He leaned in, their foreheads brushing lightly as Conner spoke, his voice low and rough, thick with emotion. "You’re not gonna lose me. Not ever." The conviction in his words made Y/N’s chest tighten even more.

"I’m scared too," Conner continued, his voice gentler now, like a confession he hadn’t meant to voice aloud. "But we can figure this out. Together. We don’t have to rush into anything. Just... give me a chance. Please."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, his throat tight as his fingers curled into the fabric of Conner’s shirt, gripping just a little harder. Whatever was happening between them, it wasn’t simple—far from it. But hearing Conner lay it all out there, hearing him say the things Y/N hadn’t even realized he needed to hear... it made the fear a little less overwhelming.

For a long moment, Y/N didn’t respond. He just stared at Conner, the weight of everything settling in his chest, heavy but somehow comforting. "Alright," Y/N finally whispered, the tension in his voice easing, though a small smile tugged at his lips. "But seriously, don’t let that big head of yours get any bigger."

Conner chuckled softly, the sound sending a warmth through Y/N that he wasn’t quite ready to deal with. But for now, it was enough.

As the group stepped through the Zeta tube, the familiar whirring and beeping of the system was the only sound filling the otherwise tense silence. The battle had left everyone exhausted, and the weight of what they’d just faced hung heavily over the team. Wally, always one to lighten the mood, was the first to speak up.

“Okay, but can we just take a moment to appreciate how insane it was to see Y/N go full-on wizard against Superman?” Wally said, his eyes wide with lingering awe. “Like, I knew magic was cool, but that was next-level.”

Kaldur nodded, though his expression remained serious. “It was a battle none of us could have prepared for. The entity’s power... it amplified Superman in ways we couldn’t have predicted.”

“Yeah, but Y/N went all Gandalf on him,” Wally continued, gesturing wildly. “I thought he was going to pull out a staff and scream ‘You shall not pass!’ any second.”

Conner, walking silently behind the group, shot Wally a sidelong glance. “It wasn’t funny, Wally. That thing nearly killed him.”

Wally raised his hands defensively. “I know, I know! I’m just saying, it was impressive. You have to admit it.”

“Yeah,” Artemis chimed in, her voice quieter but no less impressed. “He held his own. I don’t think any of us expected him to hold off a superpowered Superman for that long.”

Before anyone could respond, the Zeta tube beeped again, signaling their arrival back at the Cave. As they stepped forward, though, what they saw waiting for them froze everyone in their tracks.

Standing there casually next to the console as if this was completely normal were two very familiar figures—familiar, yet slightly more older, their features more mature, their presence commanding. The older versions of Y/N and Conner were standing side by side, along with CJ, Colin, Camden (perched on his dad's shoulders of course), Zatanna, and Batman, all waiting for them with expressions ranging from amused to unreadable.

The team stood frozen, eyes wide as they took in the sight of their future counterparts. Wally’s mouth dropped open, and his head darted between the two older men and their younger selves. His brain scrambled to process what he was seeing, but Future Y/N’s casual greeting broke the silence.

"Hi, kids, welcome back. Did you have fun?" Future Y/N asked, a smirk playing on his lips, as if this whole situation was perfectly normal.

Wally blinked, raising a hand and pointing between the two Conners and Y/Ns. "Uh... you all see the duplicate Y/N and Conners too, right?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and disbelief.Artemis rolled her eyes, though she was just as stunned as the rest. "Yes, Wally, we all see them. They're not clones."

Wally, ever the wise-cracker, couldn’t help himself. "Well, technically, Conner still is," he quipped, flashing a grin. Both Conners, in perfect sync, rolled their eyes at the comment, their shared exasperation almost comical. Before Wally could revel in his joke, Artemis delivered a swift smack to the back of his head.

"Ow!" Wally yelped, rubbing the spot. "What? It was accurate!"

Future Y/N chuckled at the playful banter, casually crossing his arms over his chest. "Ah, some things never change," he remarked, his tone light and teasing. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he turned his gaze to his past self, a smirk tugging at his lips. "So... how was that first kiss, huh?"

Present Y/N froze, his face instantly flushing a deep red as he stammered, completely caught off guard. "W-Wait, what—who said anything about a kiss?!" His voice cracked slightly, and he cast a panicked glance at Conner, who wasn’t faring much better. Conner’s cheeks were quickly turning a shade of pink that rivaled Y/N’s, his eyes darting anywhere but at the group, avoiding everyone's curious stares.

The room fell into a stunned silence as the rest of the team blinked in disbelief, their gazes bouncing between the two. Artemis raised an eyebrow, Kaldur seemed momentarily at a loss for words, and even Batman shifted ever so slightly, though his expression remained as stoic as ever.

CJ and Colin, on the other hand, exchanged grins—CJ’s particularly smug, mirroring the exact cheeky smirk their father wore. The boys’ amusement was palpable, clearly enjoying the show unfolding before them. Little cheeky bastards indeed.

This story concludes on Archive of Our Own.

☀️ | Conner Kent/Superboy | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[mrsshabana]

This request can go on the back burner, but an idea struck me with the force of a ton of bricks when I say your post about incel Gyutaro.

What about a little story where Gyutaro is trying to join a fraternity, to impress girls, and it's hazing time~ They make the pledges strip down to their boxers and wear blindfolds. The frat guys got a bunch of pretty girls together to write on their bodies with washable markers. Compliments or insults. The one with the most compliments from different girls joins tonight, and the one with the least has to walk home in his underwear. The others just get their clothes back and can stay at the party.

Reader is heartbroken by the amount of insults on Gyutaro's body with no compliments. So she puts on red lipstick and kisses all of his birthmarks! And writes in the lipstick. He's still losing, but he definitely won't mind as much anymore. Also, I feel like this is a mouthful if you don't wanna post my ask, itself, that's fine.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐥 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary Gyutaro thinks joining a fraternity will help him impress girls, but it results in him getting hazed and utterly humiliated. Though you end up making it all worth it. Maybe it did help him impress girls after all. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, smut, MDNI, incel Gyutaro, college au, angst, humiliation, hazing, vaginal sex, creampie, premature ejaculation ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 2.6k words. THIS MIGHT BE THE BEST ASK I'VE SEEN ALL YEAR. I KID YOU NOT - AS SOON AS I SAW THIS I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT EVERY MOMENT SINCE. This ended up being some of my best writing, thank you so much for this request ♡

You've seen some crazy shit since you've joined a sorority but nothing quite like this. It's nothing new that the fraternity guys on Greek row like holding strange events and wild parties. But you never thought they'd invite you and some of your fellow sorority members over to haze some rookies.

A line of almost naked men stand before you, blindfolded and in nothing but their boxers. You and the other girls are tasked with writing comments about their appearance on their bodies with a marker. Compliments or insults, both are encouraged.

Most of them just look like your everyday frat boy, with lots of them having abs and large muscles. The only one that stands out is the guy at the end. You can already tell he doesn't belong in this crowd by how pale he is. Not spending the summer drinking beers at the lake and getting a nice tan? Who the hell is this guy? He looks like the type that stays inside all day playing video games and watching hentai.

And that's not all - his body stands out in many other ways as well. He's really skinny and his hip bones protrude in an unnatural way. Not to mention the large ink-like birthmarks that are scattered across his body.

However, even though he looks different, you don't have a negative impression of him. All you thought when you first saw him was, "Huh, that guy doesn't look like the kind of guy to join a frat."

As you go down the line you write nice comments on each man's body, not having the heart to write anything negative and possibly hurt someone's feelings. You always felt bad for the guys that get hazed so you could never bring yourself to make it worse for them. However, when you get to the skinny guy, you are utterly shocked by what you see.

Littered all over his body are mean and cruel insults. You felt sick to your stomach as you read them.

"Disgusting"

"Freak"

"Incel"

"Virgin"

One girl even wrote, "Ew, why are you even here?" while another wrote, "I rather die than sleep with you lol."

You understand that he has an unconventional appearance but it certainly does not warrant all of these hateful comments. It breaks your heart to see that not even a single girl has said something nice about him.

You can't even imagine the amount of courage it must have taken him to stand up here like this. Only to get shot down and made fun of? You won't stand for it.

He flinches as he feels your delicate, manicured hands touch his chest. Then he feels something creamy and soft glide along his body, it feels different from the markers he's felt so far.

You decide to write some nice comments in your favorite red lipstick.

"So hot!"

"Cutie ;)"

But you feel like it isn't enough so you put a layer of the vibrant shade on your lips, then begin to kiss the birthmarks on his body.

His breath hitches and his face turns red when he feels you kiss him. Starting with his cheek and going all the way down to the mark on his hip. Everyone stares at you with confused faces as they watch you adore the "ugliest" guy in the lineup. But honestly, you don't care, you think he's hot as hell.

However, you feel like it's not enough so you write, "CALL ME!" in large letters on his chest followed by your phone number.

As all of the girls finish up leaving their comments for the guys, they are finally allowed to take off their blindfolds and read the messages on their bodies.

When he removes his blindfold you can't help but smile seeing how cute he is, and not to mention those beautiful blue eyes.

The self-proclaimed leader of the hazing committee, Tengen Uzui, reads the comments out loud.

Of course, the insults on Gyutaro's body sting. Especially since they are so harsh and he received a lot more than everyone else. But the bright red compliments are what's keeping him afloat. Almost making him not give a fuck about what any of the other girls had to say. Of course, there is a part of him that thinks this could be a cruel trick to get his hopes up. But honestly, after going so many years without a girl even looking in his direction, he can't help but get excited. After all, this is the first time he's ever gotten a girl's phone number.

He looks around the room, trying to see who the culprit could be. There are a few girls wearing red lipstick so he's not entirely sure who it could be.

"Looks like you'll be walking home, Gyutaro!" Tengen announced loudly, "And I'll be keeping these!" He laughs as he snatches Gyutaro's clothes - forcing him to walk home shamefully in nothing but his boxers.

He feels a wave of embarrassment wash over him as everyone stares and laughs. Just wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, he nods and walks towards the door.

"Wait!" You shout as you run towards him, taking off your shirt and jeans. Once you're down to your bra and panties you say, "Let's go together."

His eyes widen as he looks you up and down, his face as red as a tomato. The party goes completely silent, the girls stare at you with confusion and a hint of disgust. While the guys stare at Gyutaro with envy, wishing that they were in his place.

"Well, come on," you say, breaking the silence.

Gyutaro gives you a shaky nod and opens the door for you, following you out.

Once outside the frat house, he really doesn't know what to say, at a complete loss for words. A half-naked girl is walking home with him right now, and not just any girl, you're a solid ten.

His perverted self may be too focused on your appearance right now, but a part of him does recognize how nice it was of you to do that for him so he didn't feel so embarrassed. You literally took off your clothes so you could endure his hazing punishment with him. No one's ever been so kind to him before - especially not a woman.

He keeps looking at your tits, trying not to be obvious about it but he can't help himself. He loves boobs!! He always has and he's never been so close to them before. Honestly, it's a miracle he isn't sporting a massive hard-on right now. The cold breeze hitting his exposed skin is the only thing keeping it at bay.

"Um... thanks," he rasps quietly, barely mustering the courage to speak to you at all, "What's your name?"

"Oh, my name's Y/N. And don't mention it," you smile, "No one deserves to be treated that way."

"... so you did it out of pity?" he frowns.

"Not at all! I-I didn't mean it like that!"

"Then what did you mean?"

"Well... I think you're really cute. Nerdy shy guys like you have always been my type," you express your feelings with a hint of embarrassment, "And just because you don't look like the other guys doesn't mean that warrants bullying."

Gyutaro blushes deeply, too shy and flattered to respond. So you continue.

"Don't join the frat, Gyutaro. You won't be happy there, they'll just make you an outcast because you're different. I really hope you change your mind about it." You hope your words won't offend him, but it's the honest truth. A guy like him doesn't belong in a frat and deep down he knows that.

Gyutaro hates everyone in that frat, he finds them annoying and idiotic. He only wanted to join in the first place because he's so desperate to get laid and he knows those types of guys pull chicks left and right.

"Alright, I won't join. But only if you have sex with me," he states with a confidence he hasn't had all night.

"Wh-what?!" You gasp, almost certain you must not have heard him correctly.

"I only wanted to join that stupid fraternity to get laid. You're the first girl that's ever been interested in me. So if you sleep with me then I'll know I can get laid without needing the frat."

At a loss for words, you stare at him with wide eyes as the two of you stand outside of his dorm building.

You're no saint, so sex isn't something you aren't used to. But you also wouldn't consider yourself the type to sleep with a guy you barely know either. This is still weird for you. But is it too weird for you?

Obviously not because you feel butterflies form in your stomach and a moistness develop in your panties as you think about it. He is really cute, and he does have a point. If you sleep with him maybe it will boost his confidence. And who knows, maybe after tonight you could get closer to him. Being a virgin and all, he doesn't seem like the type to just dip and skip.

"Ok, you have a deal," you smile shyly and take his hand, "This is your dorm building right?"

His jaw drops, not expecting you to have agreed. "Y-Yeah," he stutters.

"Let's hurry before anyone catches us!" Dragging him inside, the two of you sneak up to his room without being noticed.

Once inside you get clear confirmation that Gyutaro is the exact kind of guy you thought he was. Clothes and empty energy drink cans were strewn about his room. The air smells like a mix of body odor and G Fuel. On his desk is a nice looking PC gaming setup. Equip with neon lights and an RTX 3090. And you aren't surprised to see a bottle of lotion on his desk. And beside it is an nsfw figurine of some anime character that looks vaguely similar to you. Maybe you are his type after all.

Gyutaro doesn't bother cleaning up or even apologizing for the mess, it's like he doesn't even care. He just turns on some colored lights and sits on the bed. Now that he's out of the cold and inside the comfort of his own dorm, you can see his erection quickly growing under his boxers.

"Well? Don't tell me you're gonna chicken out now," he scowls.

"No! I'm not chickening out! I'm actually really excited..." you sit beside him and caress his thigh.

Immediately you can see his member twitch beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. He had this nonchalant act going on, but now it's crumbling down and he's a complete mess.

"C-Can I touch them?" he mutters as he stares down at your chest.

"Sure, let me help you," you say as you unhook your bra and throw it to the side. His eyes widen and he has to stop himself from drooling.

Like instinct, his hands go to your breasts and he starts feeling and playing with them. It's obvious he's never done this before because his hands are shaky and he's handling them roughly. But he's just so excited!

"Woah," he says in awe, "These are awesome..."

Even though he's a bit rough and inexperienced, it still feels good. The way his bony fingers squeeze and prod, along with how he runs his fingers over your nipples with curiosity.

"Gyutaro..." you whisper as you caress his cheek and pull him closer, "Come here." Pulling him into a heated kiss, it's obvious he doesn't know what to do. But you try your best to guide him.

He whimpers into the kiss as you slide your tongue into his mouth. He tries to reciprocate but he's quite sloppy.

Despite that, it still sends him to cloud nine. Not only is this his first kiss but he also gets to touch tits at the same time. It's so overwhelming for him that he feels like he's already going to cum.

Hastily shoving his hand down his boxers, he grabs the base of his cock and squeezes tightly - desperately trying to stop himself from cumming. He pulls away from the kiss and says, "T-Take off your panties, I-I wanna fuck you already."

With a devious smirk, you spread your legs as you remove your panties, showing him how wet you are. Gyutaro gulps, staring at you like a starving animal.

"I'm ready for you, Gyu," you coo as you lay on your back, completely submitting to him.

"Wait um... can we try doggy style?"

You're kind of surprised by his request but you don't mind so you flip over and get on your hands and knees.

Gyutaro would actually love to watch your face contort as he fucks you, but he chose doggy style because he doesn't want you to see him while he does it. Even after everything you've said to him his insecurities are still there. And a part of him fears that if you see his dick then you'll change your mind about this. He's not the biggest, but he definitely isn't small either. The size is actually really nice, but he's so insecure that he can't see that. But the worst part is the birthmarks, he feels like his dick looks like he has some type of venereal disease even though he doesn't. So he figures it'd be best if you just didn't see it at all.

Once you're in the doggy position he feels comfortable enough to pull down his boxers. You feel the sticky, leaking tip nudge against you as he positions himself.

His brows furrow in frustration as he tries to find the right spot, his inexperience showing.

"Here, let me help you," you say in a sweet tone as to not upset him or sound judgmental. Though he's still a bit embarrassed anyway.

Reaching between your legs, you grasp his shaft and gently guide him inside of you. Once he's an inch or two inside, he gets too excited and fully thrusts forward. Jolting his needy cock into your gummy walls. You yelp in response while Gyutaro moans loudly.

"F-Fuck... ngh Y/N, you feel so goddamn good," he groans in pleasure as he tightens his grasp on your hips.

After a moment of stillness, he starts thrusting when he feels like he won't cum immediately. But it's not long before that sensation comes back.

Only after a few thrusts, do you feel a warmth spread inside of you as you feel Gyutaro's thighs begin to shake.

"Did you- did you cum?" Surprised, you look back at him to see the blissful expression on his face.

But your words quickly snap him out of it, "Shit... m'sorry," he pants, obviously feeling ashamed and embarrassed, "I-I didn't mean to cum so fast."

He quickly shoves his dick back in his boxers, trying to hide his shame as he hangs his head and refuses to look you in the eye. The only chance he got to have sex, he ruined it by cumming too fast like the incel that everyone says he is. He looks down at the writing on his body, starting to feel like all of those insults from earlier are justified.

Seeing the shift in his mood, you quickly put your panties back on and hug him. "Hey it's ok, it was your first time. That just means we'll have to do it more so you can get used to it."

"R-Really? You don't think I'm pathetic...?" he whimpers in disbelief.

"Of course not, I still had a lot of fun," you smile and kiss his cheek, "Maybe I can stay the night and we can try again in the morning."

"I'd fucking love that."

[honeekyuu]

stuck. [tsukishima kei x f!reader]

>>Tsukishima is the kind of best friend that makes you want to leave him, but you just can't bring yourself to.

or

You end up confessing in the middle of a fight and he fucks you to show you how much he really cares.<<

______________________________

tags: smut, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, alcohol/drinking, college au, tsukishima kei is a dick, drunk sex, unprotected sex (dont do that), creampie, dom/sub undertones

a/n: ahahahaha this was my first hq work posted on ao3, and it is everything Mean Best Friend Tsukishima Kei that i needed. i hope you enjoy!

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

“Okay, I’m done! How do I look?”

“You look like shit.”

You sigh, trying not to let him get to you. 

Tsukki’s always been this way - dismissive, nonchalant, indifferent. Through middle school, he’d been sarcastic. He’d been snarky and brutally honest. And in high school, he’d only gotten worse. 

Anyone else in your position might have left him already. People you’d known in school had told you to find someone else, a better friend. Best friends don’t treat each other the way Tsukishima treats you , they’d said. His teammates had been in the habit of scolding him whenever he’d go too far, whenever he’d push your buttons a little too hard. The only one who could see your side had been Yamaguchi, and even he’d had his reservations at times.

But other people don’t know Tsukishima Kei. They know the Tsukki that would refuse to share his notes with you after you’d been out sick. The Tsukki that would steal parts of your lunch and hold it high above your head, far out of your reach, and call you mean names with a cruel smirk. The Tsukki that would often leave you behind after school and head home without you, leaving you to text him and wonder where he’d gone.

They don’t know that the same person would show up at your house with his notes, walking you through calculus and poetry lessons himself because he knows you learn better with a teacher. And, even though you never called him out for it, he would show up the day you’d been out sick, too, just to check on you. Just to watch movies in bed with you, waving off your concerns about him getting sick. He hated being sick, but he would ignore your complaints and force you to relax - because you’d only ever get sick when you overworked yourself, which meant he hadn’t been watching over you closely enough. 

They don’t know that Tsukki would secretly swap your lunch out for his own - better, homemade food that wasn’t the cafeteria slop you were often forced to buy because your parents weren’t home a lot. He would watch you push the food around on your tray while you’d laugh at something Hinata had said, identifying at least 3 things you were allergic to on that plate. So he would reach for it, leaving his own (allergen-free, thanks to Akiteru) lunch open for retaliation while he’d use his height as a way to take out his frustrations on you - his irritation that you never seemed to put yourself first, choosing starvation over just simply asking your parents for money before they go out of town.

And the times he’d leave you behind - well, half the time, it had been an accident. It was impossible to remember your packed schedule, all your clubs and student council meetings lumping into a vague ‘ Y/n’s busy ’ block of time in his mind. The other half of the time, it was because he needed to be alone. It’s not that he’s an asshole and loves to make you suffer - in fact, he would often call you later the same night, apologizing in his own, special Tsukishima Kei way and explaining himself. He gets overwhelmed easily, overstimulated by too many people, too many responsibilities, too many social expectations. So he would disappear as soon as he was allowed, needing to be alone with himself and no one else.

So, the people in your life had known a different version of Tsukishima than you do. Where they’d seen a bully, cold and unrelenting even for his best friend, you’d known nothing more than an introvert, expressing his care in a way that was unrecognizable to anyone but you.

Care that had carried over into college, the last three years filled with a Tsukishima Kei that even you hadn’t expected. A version of him that walks you from the library to your dorm at night, despite his increasingly hectic volleyball schedule. A Tsukishima who calls you in the morning on his walk to class to make sure you haven’t overslept, because - even if the calls consist of nothing but your crabby morning disposition, berating him for pulling you from your slumber - he knows you’ll thank him later, as you often do.

A Tsukishima who lets you drag him to parties, even though he hates them to his very core. He lets you tug him along to your dorm, lets you force him to sit through the hour-long ordeal of choosing your outfit. Lets you spin in front of him when you’re done, clearly pleased with yourself, and ask him how you look.

Lets you throw a pillow at his face when he tells you that you look like shit, even if he wholeheartedly believes otherwise.

“Tsukki, can’t you say one nice thing to me? For once?”

He scoffs when you put your hands on your hips, turning his gaze back to his phone as he lounges on your bed like it’s his own. It might as well be, with the amount of time he spends in this room.

“That would require you to have something worth being nice about, wouldn’t it?” He smiles mockingly when he catches the irritated twitch of your eyebrow.

“You’re a dick.”

“Nothing new about that.” Tsukishima watches as you turn back to your closet with a huff, taking the time to look you over appreciatively. No , he thinks, his eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts and the way your dress hugs your hips, the material tight but soft. His hand itches with the urge to touch it, to find out for himself. It’s not that you have nothing. It’s that you have too much.

He sighs, sitting up, and runs his fingers through his hair.

You have too much, and it’s fucking annoying. 

His eyes flick to you again, his own irritation growing. You’d always been too good. Too perfect, too overwhelming. He’d hated falling in love. It had sucked. High school had sucked . Having you cling to him every day and finding himself clinging right back. Not understanding these complicated feelings he has - ones that want nothing more than to hold you in his arms, against others that would tell him to push you away with his sharp tongue, to protect himself from this terrifying feeling. 

And now that he’s accepted it - it had only taken him the entirety of high school and at least a year of college - he almost hates it more. Being so close to you and somehow still feeling like he can’t breathe because it’s not nearly close enough.

So he stands, shoving his phone in the pocket of his jeans, and stares you down when you finally turn back to him.

“Can we go? The sooner we get to this stupid thing, the sooner I can go home.” He thinks he sees a flicker of hurt flash across your eyes, but that can’t be it. He’s said worse things before. You always bounce back, a retort on the tip of your tongue for everything he could throw at you. You always match him, blow for blow.

So why, then, can he see your jaw clenching as you turn away from him? Why does he feel like you’re pulling your jacket off the rack with more force than usual? Why are you leaving without responding?

What the fuck ?

-

Fuck Tsukishima Kei . 

It’s the only thought in your mind as you down the shot, wincing as the alcohol slides down your throat. You’d lost count of the drinks you’ve had about an hour ago, when the thought had been something more like ‘ Fuck Tsukishima Kei. Stupid fucking idiot. Never thinks before he speaks ’.

Clearly, you’d mellowed out a little, but the anger is still there, simmering in your chest and threatening to rise every time he gets close to you.

The walk to the frat had been silent, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about your mood, only scrolling through his phone and occasionally glancing over at you. You’d felt the irritation crawling under your skin with every pass of his eyes over you, but you hadn’t returned any of his gazes, only looking forward to getting to the party and being with other people.

But he hadn’t let you wander off so easily, his tall form following close behind as you’d tried to find some of your friends from class. You can tell he’s been trying to silently check on you, like he always does when he knows he’s bothered you. 

He’d brought you drinks, only smiling emptily when you’d glared up at him. It shouldn’t have made your heart skip that he’d done nothing more than offered you a drink, tapping his own red solo cup against yours and matching you shot for shot. It shouldn’t affect you when he does the bare minimum. 

He’d danced close to you, one hand on your waist and his warm chest pressed firmly against your back. You’d hated it - feeling so safe in the arms of someone who had derived pleasure from picking on you your whole lives. And even if that’s not true - even if you only take into account all the ways that he’d taken care of you, celebrating all your accomplishments with you and holding you while you’d cried about your failures - you still shouldn’t be feeling that familiar tug of nerves in your stomach when he presses his hips against your ass, slipping his fingers through yours and pulling you close.

And when that hadn’t worked - when you’d held your ground and managed to cling to your anger from earlier - he’d even tried to talk to you about it. That isn’t normal for him by any means, but you could see the confusion in his eyes when he’d leaned down to be heard over the music, mumbling his question against the shell of your ear.

“Are we okay ?”

It had taken everything in you to resist him, to resist the pull that is Tsukishima Kei. The same pull that had kept you next to him all these years, through all the teasing and the poking. The pull that kept reminding you that he’s just bad at expressing his feelings. He’s just bad at being nice. He’s just bad at holding his tongue.

But that doesn’t mean you have to sit and take it every time.

So you’d only smacked his hand away and glared when he’d cupped the side of your face, trying to get you to look at him. Stomping over to the bar, you had asked the frat boy for a shot of something random. 

After downing it, you try not to look back but fail miserably - you might be pissed, but you’ve never been immune to him. You probably never would be.

Glancing back, you can see his blond head in the sea of people. He’s trying to make his way to the bar, but his head is whipping to the side at the sound of something. A tall guy - you recognize it’s someone from his team - appears at his side, clapping his shoulder, and you can only assume he’d heard his name being called.

They start talking, Tsukki seeming distracted but drunk enough to at least pretend he’s interested in the conversation. You look away just as he’s turning his head back to you - you won’t be caught looking his way again tonight.

Luckily, there’s someone stepping up beside you, catching your attention with their bright smile.

“Y/n?!” 

You blink, startled by the recognition. But when you finally see who it is, you can’t help but beam.

“Oh my God, Bokuto?!” You leap toward him, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and dragging him into a hug. You feel him laugh against you, his arms sliding around your waist and pulling you in tight. When you step away, he keeps you close, hand on your hips.

“What are you doing here?! You don’t go here, do you?” 

The man shakes his head, grinning down at you and pointing over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m just visiting a few friends over the weekend.”

You glance past him, seeing a group of boys that seem like they could be familiar to you, but you can never tell - Bokuto Koutarou is friends with everyone.

When you look back, you catch his eyes wandering down the length of your body, his gaze snapping up to yours when you clear your throat. He has the decency to look ashamed.

“Sorry, Y/n - You’ve just, uh… grown up a lot since high school.”

You flush deeply, something that makes him grin when he catches it. 

At least someone thinks I look good tonight .

You’re smiling flirtily up at him, feeling confident enough to drag this conversation out. He seems to notice, an interested glimmer in his eye. But then he’s glancing over your shoulder, and his eyebrows are raising in surprise.

A hand wraps around your bicep, much tighter than necessary in your opinion. You barely have time to spot the blond hair in your peripheral vision before you’re being dragged away. You can only wave at Bokuto, who looks a little disappointed but mostly just amused.

Tsukishima only lets you go when you’re outside, his hand dropping from your skin like you’ve burned him. You whip around to face him, more than ready to yell at him on the front lawn of this frat house. But he’s already walking away, in the direction of your dorm.

“Dude, what the hell? You didn’t even say hi to him - he’s one of your closest friends!” You stalk after him, determined to figure out what could possibly be going through his mind. But he won’t answer you, just shaking his head and mumbling something that sounds vaguely like ‘exactly ’ as he makes his way down the street.

You scoff, turning back to the frat. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re just going to follow him home quietly.

You start to head back to the party, but you barely make it five steps before his fingers are closing around your wrist and tugging you back to him. When you look up, enraged at his entitlement, you see that he’s incensed, staring down at you with wild eyes. He looks pissed, which he has no reason to be. But there’s something else there, something that’s contributing to this almost panicked anger sitting just below the surface.

“Tsukishima, what do you want?” 

He bristles at the use of his full name, golden eyes narrowing as he stares down at you.

“You’re going home.” He punctures every word with barely concealed irritation, finally turning and dragging you back down the street. You don’t say anything this time, feeling that previously mellowed out anger returning full force as you stare at the back of his head.

The walk back is just as silent as the walk to the party had been, but this time you feel ready to explode. You’d been annoyed before, bothered and hurt by his words and the way he treats you.

Now you’re just ready to pick a fight. Which means you’ll probably say something you’ll regret if you don’t get away from him soon and take some time to calm the hell down.

When you get to your door, you’ve already got your keys out. He’d let go of you in the elevator, finally realizing that he’d been gripping you way too hard. You might just be able to get inside without him following.

But the second you unlock the door and slip inside, not a word said to the blond as you try to shut the door behind you, his hand is slamming down on the wood. He stops your attempt, staring down at you with annoyance.

“You’re joking, right?” And then he’s pushing into your room with an angry sigh, letting the door swing shut behind him. You only step back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him over.

“What do you want?”

“What do I wa- What is your problem tonight ?” He squints down at you, eyebrows furrowed. When you only raise yours, his jaw is clenching. “Why the fuck are you so mad at me?”

“Because-” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath in order to maintain some semblance of control. “Because you’re an asshole, Tsukishima-”

“Stop fucking calling me that, Y/n-”

“-and maybe I’m just not in the mood for your shit tonight!” You yell over him, clenching your fists against your body. You need him to go. You cannot let him see you cry.

“I’m always an asshole! How is tonight any different-” He’s taken a step further into the small bedroom, and you take a step back, feeling overwhelmed. You’re immensely glad you don’t have a roommate, so they don’t have to deal with the mess that is your friendship with Tsukki.

“Tonight isn’t any different, you dick. It’s the same as it always is. I’m just tired of it tonight.” You feel yourself growing angrier when he just laughs, throwing you a mocking smile as he paces the room. He’s definitely drunk.

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize I needed to account for Little Miss Y/n’s fucking mood swings whenever I open my mouth-”

“What the fuck did you just sa-”

“I just didn’t take you for someone who’s sensitive-”

“Well, maybe I am, you fucking asshole! ”

You’re definitely drunk, too.

Tsukishima stops short, taking you in. He can’t hide the shock on his face when he sees you - the way your hands are shaking at your sides, the quiver of your lip as you try your best to stand up to him. You’re trying so hard not to cry, he can tell.

Wow, I really am an asshole.

“Y/n… I-”

“Did you really think I would still want to go to that party once you’d made it clear how much you didn’t want to go? That you think it’s stupid to hang out with your best friend on a Friday night doing something she wants to do - because your idea of a good time is so different from mine that you would try make me feel like a fucking idiot for it?” 

Tsukishima’s starting to panic - had he made you feel that way? He’d just been talking. He hadn’t even been thinking about how it would make you feel - he’d thought nothing could hurt you, that your friendship is guaranteed and that having you next to him is a given. 

Now he feels like he’s losing you. 

“Maybe, once in a fucking while , it wouldn’t hurt you too much to tell a girl she’s pretty when she’s just spent an hour trying to look good for you.”

The frustration on Tsukishima’s face drops, and he’s left staring emptily at you. 

That’s what this is about? 

He stares for a while, his eyes just flicking back and forth between yours as he thinks of how to take that. It makes you nervous. You’d said too much. 

“Fuck this.”

You blink, staring up at him in disbelief. What is that supposed to mean?

“What do you- mmh -” 

Tsukishima had crossed the room in just two steps, taking your face in his hands while you’d been preparing to yell at him again. And then he’d smashed his lips to yours.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you let out a noise of shock, muffled against his mouth. Your eyes remain wide open, flitting in a panic over his features as you feel his lips move against yours. His brow is furrowing behind his glasses, and you’re realizing that you still haven’t kissed him back. You push against his lips experimentally, watching that wrinkle between his eyes all but disappear when he feels it, and you think it looks a lot like relief.

He’s nervous.

Your body moves of its own accord, hands sliding up his chest to grip at his shirt, and your eyes slide closed when you feel one of his hands fall to your waist. He nudges you backward, and you feel the hard surface of your closet door against your back.

Tsukishima slides his tongue against your bottom lip, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he feels you inhale sharply in response. He takes advantage of your surprise, pushing past your lips and brushing his tongue against yours. When you slide your hands up and around his neck, tugging at the hair there, he groans and leans down. 

Planting a hand on the door behind you, he angles his head, slotting his lips against yours. He presses his hips into you, and you can feel how hard he’s getting. You sigh into his mouth at the feeling, smiling when his body reacts to the sound, his cock hardening against your thigh. 

Tsukishima Kei might be impossible to read sometimes, but he never could hide from you.

He drops his mouth to your neck, latching onto a spot under your ear and using his other arm to pull you flush against him. The sounds you’re making are clear now, soft gasps and whimpers echoing in your tiny dorm room.

“So stupid… ” 

You barely hear him, too busy wondering why it had taken so long to feel his lips on your skin.

“The only person in the world that can see right through me, and you were stupid enough to believe what I said. ” He mumbles it into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and sighing when you moan against him.

“You’re so mean…” Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his hand drop to your leg, pulling the fabric of your dress up slightly. He grips at the back of your bare thigh, brushing against your panties and kneading into the plush skin just below your ass.

“What were you gonna do, Y/n, go home with Bokuto?” Tsukishima all but growls the question against your neck, dragging your thigh up and wrapping your leg around his hip. He feels your dress slide up, feels your warmth against his jeans. He’s desperate to get out of them.

“Y-You called me ugly-”

“I never said that.” Yes he had. He knows he had. He just hadn’t realized you would take it to heart. Now he hates himself for even saying it. For pretending you aren’t the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

“Bo said I looked good… Figured I might as well go for someone who’s actually attracted to me…” You whimper when Tsukishima presses his erection against you, your thin panties useless against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you?”

You breathe out a laugh, clinging to his biceps as he sucks another bruise into your skin.

“How was I supposed to know, you dumbass? You only ever say mean things, and I thought I could get over you by-”

“By what?” He’s getting irritated again at the thought of what could have happened tonight if he hadn’t brought you home. If he’d left you alone, like his brain was telling him to. If he’d given you space and just texted you in the morning. 

“You thought you could just fuck some other guy and get over me?” He lifts his head, grinning cruelly when you look up at him, your lip trembling. “Because I didn’t call you pretty tonight? Because you were tired of me being mean all the time?”

You nod, a gasp leaving you when he wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up so you’re eye-level, slamming you back against the closet door and pinning you there with his hips. Your dress is bunched up around your stomach now, leaving Tsukishima with a perfect view of the wet spot on your panties when he glances down. His grin widens, an evil glint shining behind his glasses.

“But it seems like you like it when I say mean things, Y/n.”

You whine in protest, growing louder when you feel him rut involuntarily against you at the sound.

“This is different, Tsukki-”

“Is it?” He’s distracted when he asks, too busy steadying you in his arms so he can lift you up and away from the closet. Making his way to your bed, he drops you unceremoniously on the mattress, smiling when you yelp. He removes his glasses and leaves them on your bedside table, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can drag you toward him.

You sit up, taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips urgently to his - even on his knees, he’s tall enough to be eye-level with you. You feel his fingers, long and calloused, drift up your thighs and hook into your panties while he nips almost affectionately at your bottom lip.

“Tsukki… ” You whisper against his mouth, but he’s quick to shake his head, mumbling back to you.

“Not that. ”

You’re a little surprised - you never really call him by his first name. He’d found it uncomfortable the one time you’d tried it as a joke. But if he’s asking, then-

“Kei .” His pulse quickens under your fingertips when you murmur against his lips, his kiss becoming more full, and you realize just how much he likes it.

You pull away and press kisses to his face, peppering them across his nose and cheeks. It’s a moment that’s far softer than either of you had had before, one that has Tsukishima’s heart beating a little too hard in his chest. 

God, he hates being in love.

He pulls away from you, planting one hand on your chest and shoving you away from him. You fall back onto your elbows with a noise of surprise, bouncing lightly on the mattress. Tsukishima only reaches for your panties again, tugging them down and smiling to himself when you lift your hips to help him. 

He throws them somewhere over his shoulder, refusing to break his attention. Planting his hands on each of your knees, he pries your knees open slowly, glancing up at your face for any signs of discomfort. When he finds none, his gaze flicks back down to what’s in front of him.

And then his breath is cutting short at the sight of you lying bare in front of him. You’re glistening, even in this dark room, and his cock is suddenly unbearably hard. 

He’d been thinking about this moment for far longer than he’d ever care to admit. 

“Well, isn’t this just the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen?” 

You throw your head back at his words, moaning loudly. 

“Oh, shut up.” You know Tsukki’s slept with his fair share of girls since you’d started college - being a popular volleyball player has its benefits. You’d done the same, hoping to squash down that jealousy in your own, twisted way. To hear him praising you like this - like you’d always wanted - has you clenching and squirming from the desire coursing through your veins.

“First you get mad because I’m too mean, and now you’re mad because I’m being nice?” He tilts his head, his voice mocking. “You really need to make up your mind.” 

And then, before you can let out some kind of snarky quip, he’s dipping his head and dragging his tongue over your slit in one long stripe. 

You gasp loudly and moan out his name, falling back onto the mattress as your hands fly to his head. You bury your fingers in his hair, tightening your grip when he does it again, licking through your folds before latching onto your clit, pulling the nub gently into his mouth.

He moans loudly against you when you mewl and pull his hair. The vibration on your clit makes you squirm, and you’re involuntarily rutting your hips against his face. He only laughs against you, his breath tickling your skin, and wraps an arm over your hips to hold you steady on the bed.

He pulls his mouth off of you, and you lift your head to look at him in annoyance. He smirks, holding eye contact while he brings his other hand to your folds. When he runs his fingers through them, stopping briefly to circle your clit, you whimper. And when he drops his middle finger to your entrance, nudging gently at it in question, you bite your lip and nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you already-

“Oh my- Kei-” Your head falls back when he slides his finger in and drops his mouth to your clit to suck on it. He sets his pace with his finger, thrusting into you and curling gently up toward himself, repeating the process until he can tell by your squirming hips that you’re starting to feel something.

And then he’s pushing another finger past your entrance, his cock twitching when you moan at the stretch. He’s been painfully hard for a while now, and all he wants is to be inside you of already. He doesn’t realize you’re feeling just as impatient, only noticing when your hands drop to his shoulders, tugging on his shirt.

“Kei …” You pout down at him, your eyelids fluttering when he thrusts his fingers into you again. His fingertips are brushing against a spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself, his fingers much longer than yours. You think you might become addicted to his hands soon. But you only pull again on his shirt with a whine, hoping he’ll get the message. 

Luckily, he does, because he’s pulling away to rip his shirt impatiently off his back, wiping his mouth with it before throwing it to the floor. He unzips his jeans as he makes his way up to the bed, pausing to scoop you up into his arms and tossing you closer to your pillows so he can climb on top of you.

When he pushes his mouth to yours, you’re moaning. He tastes like you, something he’s apparently proud of, because he’s just smiling against you and shoving his tongue past your lips. He drops his mouth to your neck again as he fumbles with his jeans.

“You taste so good, you know that?” He latches onto your skin, sucking harshly. “So much better than I’d imagined.” He pushes his pants just past his thighs, growing impatient. You gasp quietly when his cock brushes against you, the sound changing to a moan when Tsukishima runs it through your folds, sliding against you.

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours in a moment of astounding clarity given the insanity of this whole night.

“You sure?”

Your heart jumps when he asks. He’s got the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance, clearly holding himself back. But the way he’s looking at you makes you realize he wants this to be done right - after all, this had started with the two of you fighting. He doesn’t want you to regret this later and be even more upset with him.

He doesn’t want to lose you.

The idea that that’s what been hiding behind Tsukki’s eyes tonight - that vague panic that you couldn’t put your finger on - makes your heart sing and your stomach swoop with butterflies. You can only nod, cupping his face and bringing him down to your lips. His kiss is gentle and full of something that makes your nerves worse, something that makes you feel more than sure.

“I want this more than anything.”

Tsukishima’s heart skips, and he’s swearing softly against your lips. He hovers over you, keeping his mouth on yours as he presses his thumb against the head of his cock, guiding it past your entrance.

You gasp together as he pushes slowly into you, a moan pulled from your throat when he bottoms out and breathes out your name. The fog in your head - a mixture of alcohol, arousal, and nerves at the realization that you’re having sex with your best friend - worsens considerably when he drops his head to your neck, making an admission against your ear.

I’ve wanted this for so long …”

You whimper, curling your fingers into his hair and holding him close as he pulls out slowly just to slide into you again. You moan at the slow stretch, feeling his shaky breath against your ear.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Tsukishima doesn’t know why he’s choosing now to have this conversation, when you very well can just talk about it after. But there’s a strand of fear twisting around the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth is moving without his permission. He needs you to understand what this means to him.

“I didn’t know it would hurt you… I didn’t mean it…” His hips are still slow, moving languidly against yours. He’d expected this to be rough - sex is only ever rough for him - but he needs to concentrate on what he’s saying. And you feel so good like this, so warm and tight around him.

You’re having the same problem, your head completely empty as you feel him push into you inch by inch instead of all at once. You can barely hear him, your ears ringing and your skin overheating while you try to process that this is actually happening - that you finally have Tsukishima Kei the way that you’d always dreamed about.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Your heart stutters when you realize what he’s been saying. Even with everything else going on right now - even as his hips are picking up the pace, even with his breath shuddering against your skin as he moans quietly in your ear - he’s distracted, trying to apologize. Trying to make things right between you.

“It’s okay…” You whisper forgiveness into his hair, but you feel him shake his head, his grip on your hips tightening.

“It’s not. I shouldn’t hurt you. Not you…” He gasps quietly into your neck, his hips stuttering momentarily before he returns to his previous speed. “S-Sorry… You feel really good… Trying to focus.”

You flush, clenching around him and pulling him closer when he groans. You think about what he’s saying. ‘ Not you ’?

You’re about to ask what he means, but he’s mumbling another admission against your skin, this one much more intense than the last.

“I love you, Y/n… So fucking in love, it hurts…”

You inhale sharply, your heart stopping in your chest. But then there’s a moan ripping from your throat, because he’s hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know existed, the tip of his cock bumping up against something that makes the coil in the pit of your stomach twist harshly.

“I- fuck - Tsukki, I love you, too…”

Tsukishima lifts his head then, staring down at you with surprise written all over his face. You can only breathe out a laugh, moaning quietly while you giggle.

“What, you’re shocked? I just told you I almost went home with Bokuto just so I could stop thinking about you.”

His eyes darken at your words, and his hips are snapping harshly against yours. You moan in surprise, feeling your stomach flip at the way he’s looking down at you. He seems to remember now just how this night could have gone.

He sits up, knocking your hands away when you reach out for him with a whine, and pulls out of you completely. Slipping off the edge of the bed, he wraps his hands around your thighs and tugs you toward him roughly. He only smiles mockingly down at you when you slide across the mattress with a quiet yelp, pulling your hips flush against his.

When he slips into you again, the soft, caring Tsukishima is gone, replaced with the Tsukki you’ve always known. The one who has no problem running his mouth just to get to you.

“That’s it then, huh? If I hadn’t dragged you home, you’d be wrapped around another man right now?” He slams into you, watching with delight as you cry out and arch your back. He keeps this pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he drives his cock into you.

“Tsukki-”

“What did I tell you? ” His tone cuts through you, yanking hard on that coil in your navel and setting off a fresh flurry of butterflies.

“I- Kei -”

“You think you can forget about me that easily? You think I would let you?” 

You’re writhing under him, hands gripping your sheets tight as you gasp with each hard thrust of his hips on yours. The sight makes Tsukishima’s hips stutter, and he feels his orgasm coming on. He drops his thumb to your clit to push you closer to the edge, throwing his head back with a moan when you clench around him.

“Kei, please- feels so goo- ah- ”

“S-Shit, Y/n, I’m not gonna last… Where should I-” Tsukishima almost loses it when you claw at his hands on your hips, latching onto his wrists as you moan.

“Insi-Inside… Inside, Kei, please…” You look up at him, taking in the flush of his cheeks, the way his eyelids flutter when you clench around him. The way he bites down hard on his bottom lip and moans after a few seconds, breaking his hold on you so he can slam his hands down on the mattress on either side of you, his hair falling into his face as he pants down at you.

“Fuck -” He reaches down, brushing his thumb over your clit again. When you tighten around him this time, he’s letting out a choked gasp and your name, and you’re suddenly filled with warmth as his hips stutter, as he spills into you. He drops his head to your shoulder, his breath shaky as he thrusts into you, riding out his orgasm.

And when he’s done - when his cum is dripping out of you while you squirm, feeling full but unsatisfied - he sits up, pulling you against him again. He wraps his fingers around your wrists, smiling breathlessly when you cling to his forearms, and uses you as leverage when he draws his hips back and snaps them harshly into yours.

You cry out, feeling yourself throb the more he all but drags you down onto his cock and tries to draw your orgasm out of you. He releases your wrists, his thumb circling that little bundle of nerves while his other hand grips the back of your thigh, spreading your legs even further. 

When he changes the angle of his stroke, you’re gasping, unable to handle all of the sensations he’s causing in your body. There’s too much going on, too many feelings happening, each of which is bringing you closer to the edge. You slap your hands down over your face, trying both to muffle your moans and also hide your face, feeling embarrassed that your body is reacting so strongly to everything Tsukishima does.

He only coos down at you, his tone almost insulting.

“Oh, is my baby going to come?”

You whine loudly at his words, so rude but so endearing - your stomach swoops as the coil tightens, but you nod anyway. His low chuckle reaches your ears.

“Let me see you, then.” When you don’t respond, only moaning into your hands with each thrust, he clicks his teeth at you in annoyance. “Come on, Y/n. I wanna see how pretty my best friend looks when she comes on my cock.”

Tsukishima beams when that does it, your back arching as you cry out his name. You screw your eyes shut and fumble desperately for his hands. He slips his fingers through yours, holding tight when you come, your walls fluttering around him. He fucks you through it, inhaling sharply when you become impossibly tight, and then drops down over you when you're done, pressing his lips to yours.

You let out a sob against his mouth, your limbs heavy as you try to catch your breath. 

“Tsukki …” You wiggle uncomfortably, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him. He laughs against your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. And then he leans up again, pressing his lips to your tiredly.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He snickers when you whine but joins in on your soft gasp when he slides out of you, both of you sensitive. Stripping you out of the dress that’s been bunched up on your stomach this whole time, he leaves you on the bed, kicking his jeans off as he makes his way into your connected bathroom. When he returns, it’s with a wet rag and a gentle hand on your thighs.

Tsukishima scoops you into his arms when he’s done, setting you carefully against the pillows and climbing into bed with you. Your head is still empty, and you reach your arms out uselessly for him, mumbling his name. He only smiles, pulling you against his chest and kissing the side of your head.

“You okay?” When you nod sleepily against his chest, he smiles, tugging you closer. “Not too mean?”

You giggle, planting a kiss on his neck.

“I like you a little mean.”

Tsukishima snorts, shaking his head.

“I know you do. But still…” He meets your eyes, suddenly shy, his cheeks flushing. “I’ll be better from now on. Less ‘ toxic boyfriend ’ and more ‘ insufferable but still cute ’.”

You beam at his words, your heart skipping.

“Boyfriend , huh?”

He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I forgot you and Bokuto were basically married.”

“Oh, right, I should probably tell him the wedding’s off-”

“You’re a dick.”

[buckets-and-trees]

I’d like to point out this man’s insane hotness🥵

Also… imagine needing a place to sit and Bucky tells you to sit on his lap😍

I've been sitting on this one for ages, Shannon, I'm sorry! But I was waiting for a storyline that truly swept me away because this look and the potential for this moment couldn't be squandered if I was going to take a stab at it...

Poison Blood from the Wound of the Pricked Hand

Characters/Pairings: Post TFATWS!Bucky x curvy!Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 3k Summary: You've made a life-altering decision, and even though it feels like the only choice you could have made, you hope it's the right one, and you hope the man you're being forced to rely on tonight will help you accomplish what you need to, or else your life could be at stake - not to mention the safety of so many others.

Content/Warnings: intense physical intimicy, but no actual smut (I know, shocker)

Author Notes: Possibly the last piece for the Deliciously Debauched Labor Day Weekend! And, yes late, but the final piece to complete out my collection for @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer - week twelve "what should I wear?"

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“How are things going in there?” Bucky called loudly to you.

“Um…” There was a long pause, before you called back, “Fine.”

You glanced at the clock.

You knew at this rate you were going to make the two of you late. But that only ate at you more. You weren’t trying to cause problems.

Or, rather, you weren’t trying to cause more problems. You already felt like a walking liability.

All you had tried to do was get out of the danger of your brother’s organization.

You had finally gone to the authorities, looking to make some kind of deal for safety, maybe witness protection, you didn’t know exactly how these things worked, only that you had to leave.

But evidently things had been even worse and more complicated than you knew, and the price for safety had come with strings.

They needed more information, and they saw you as a means to be able to get it.

And so they’d dangled a deal that required you to play your part as a trusted member of the family one more time.

You had only been gone for just over twenty-four hours, so it wasn’t likely that your brother would suspect your defection yet. But it was so recent that you still felt unsettled over whether you’d made the right decision - especially now that it wasn’t a clean break and you were being used be the people you expected to be the good guys.

“Are you sure?” Bucky’s voice broke through your thoughts again.

You shook your head. Since he was in the other room, there was no danger in him seeing your doubt and uncertainty.

Of all the moving parts in this scheme, Bucky was possibly the only piece you thought you might be able to trust. His reputation preceded him as someone more than capable of handling any dangerous situation, but he also seemed to harbor a question in his mind over working this operation and trusting the government agencies who had a hand in this.

You sighed, then bit your lip. The clock ticked relentlessly, each second a reminder of your indecision. Your eyes darted between two outfits laid out on the bed, both chosen with care but now seeming woefully inadequate for the task ahead.

You sighed, your eyes darting between the two outfits laid out on the bed. One was a sleek black dress, form-fitting and elegant, with a high neckline and long sleeves that would conceal the nervous goosebumps prickling your skin. The other, a tailored pantsuit in deep navy, exuded an air of professionalism and confidence you wished you felt.

Both outfits were carefully chosen to blend in at the high-stakes charity gala where you'd be making your reappearance in your brother's world. But which one would better sell the lie? Which one would make you look like you hadn't just betrayed everything you'd ever known?

You ran your fingers over the cool silk of the dress, then the crisp wool of the suit jacket. The clock's incessant ticking seemed to grow louder with each passing moment, mocking your indecision.

You needed to look like your old self, the trusted sister, and you’d worn clothes just like these a hundred times before. But now?

And with the added caveat of needing to have a brand new man on your arm and sell that he was a valid new part of your life, too?

You grabbed both hangers and went out into the living room of your apartment where Bucky had been patiently waiting for you.

Bucky's eyes widened slightly as you emerged from the bedroom, clothes in hand. He was sitting on the couch, hands in his lap, already dressed in a sharp looking suit with leather lapels - edgy but impressive. For a moment, you were struck by how different he looked from the dangerous operative turned superhero you knew him to be. He looked like he could effortlessly blend into the opulent setting you expected tonight.

"I can't decide," you admitted, your voice hesitant. "Which one do you think would be more… convincing?"

Bucky's gaze flickered between the two outfits, then back to your face. His expression softened, and you saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

"The dress," he said after a moment. "It's more in line with what you'd typically wear to these events, right? We don't want to raise any suspicions by changing your style too drastically."

You nodded, grateful for his insight. "You're right. Thank you."

As you turned to go back to the bedroom, Bucky's voice stopped you. "Hey," he said softly, his blue eyes searching your face. "We don't have to do this if you're not ready."

For a moment, you were tempted to take the out he was offering. To tell him you couldn't go through with it, that you'd made a mistake. But then you thought of your brother, of all the people he'd hurt, and you steeled yourself.

"No, I can do this. Besides,” you thought of all the things you’d learned in different meetings and conversations and reports today, “this is our best chance to get the information we need to bring him and the rest of the organization down.”

“But it doesn’t have to be you,” he insisted.

You tilted your head and smiled sadly. “But it should be.” They had been planning to try and infiltrate tonight’s gala before you had presented yourself, but with you, you were practically a golden ticket into the event and into so many more of the areas once inside.

Bucky nodded, a mix of admiration and concern in his eyes. "Alright. But remember, I'll be right there with you the whole time. If anything feels off, just give me the signal and we're out of there."

You nodded, grateful for his reassurance. As you headed back to the bedroom to change, you couldn't help but wonder how convincing you and Bucky would be as a couple. You'd only known each other for a day, and while he seemed kind and protective, there was still so much mystery surrounding him.

As you undressed, you tried to calm your racing thoughts. You'd been to countless events like this before, schmoozing with the elite and corrupt. But never as a double agent, never with the weight of so many lives hanging in the balance, and certainly not since discovering the secret that had shattered your world and opened up your eyes to the fact that everything your brother was involved in was corrupt and dangerous.

As you slipped into the black dress, you couldn't help but feel like you were putting on armor for battle. The silk clung to your skin, cool and familiar, yet somehow foreign now. You zipped it up, fingered the neckline, then pressed your hand to your heart and took a deep breath.

In the mirror, you saw the woman you used to be—poised, elegant, the perfect sister to a powerful man. But your eyes betrayed you, filled with a storm of emotions you'd have to learn to hide in the next few minutes.

You applied your makeup with practiced precision, each stroke of mascara and swipe of lipstick another layer of protection, of disguise. Once satisfied with your appearance, you squared your shoulders, and put the lipstick in your clutch.

You emerged from the bedroom, smoothing down the fabric of your dress. “I’m ready.”

Bucky’s eyes roamed over you appreciatively, and you felt something pool in your stomach - the attraction to this man you’d been trying to ignore since you’d been introduced to him early this morning. You could not have a crush on this man who was supposed to infiltrate your brother’s organization with you, steal information, and try and get both of you out safely.

It would be too much of a distraction.

Bucky's lips quirked into a small smile.

“What?” you asked, suspicious.

“You forgot your shoes,” he said simply.

You looked down and sighed.

“Nervous?” he asked, his tone kind, soft.

"Bucky," you said, looking back at him, "how are we supposed to explain your presence? Won't my brother be suspicious of a new man in my life?"

"We've got a cover story. I'm a potential new investor in your brother's 'business ventures.' You met me at a networking event last week and thought I'd be a good fit for tonight's gala."

You raised an eyebrow. "And you just happened to sweep me off my feet?”

"Something like that," Bucky replied with a roguish smile. "We'll keep it vague - a whirlwind romance, sparks flying. Your brother will be more focused on the potential investment than on our relationship."

You nodded, trying to quell the butterflies in your stomach. It wasn't just nerves about the mission now; the idea of pretending to be swept off your feet by Bucky wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"Right," you said, forcing yourself to focus. "I'll just go grab those shoes."

You hurried back to the bedroom, slipping on a pair of elegant black heels. As you turned to leave, your eyes fell on a framed photo on the nightstand - you and your brother at last year's gala, both smiling widely. Your stomach churned. How had you been so blind?

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the guilt down and away. You needed to do this. There was no other path in your mind now that you knew the truth. Your eyes flicked from the frame to the luggage packed next to your door. When you’d left yesterday, you hadn’t taken anything with you, not wanting to draw suspicion. With this return to your place and the cover of being swept into something with Bucky, it gave you the cover to pack some of your things - luggage that was being picked up and taken care of for you by one of this “rich investor’s” staff to go with you on a two-week vacation to a private island in the Phillippines. It was a perfect cover, provided you could sell it.

He was so handsome, with his dark hair styled perfectly and his strong jawline. Still sitting on the couch, he radiated confidence and charm, making it easy to see why he was chosen for this mission. You couldn't help but feel slightly nervous under his intense gaze.

Bucky's eyes flicked over your ensemble. "You look beautiful," he said, his voice low and husky.

Your heart skipped a beat at the compliment, feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Thank you," you replied shyly.

You’d been so worried about all the other logistics of tonight, you hadn’t thought about the believability of you and Bucky until now.

“Come here,” he said, holding a hand out to you. You crossed the room and took it, gasping as he pulled you down to sit across his lap.

“Bucky,” you protested, insecure about sitting all of your plus-sized body in his lap. You had never been comfortable with your few previous partners in this situation, but he pressed one cool vibranium finger to your lips, while his other hand moved softly up and down your back.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispered. “You’ll need to look comfortable around me when I touch you, and if your brother is going to believe you’ve agreed to go away with me tonight, I can’t touch you for the first time while we’re there.”

You nodded. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you shivered.

You felt a flush creep up your neck as Bucky's lips brushed your cheek. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, but you could feel the strength in his arms as he held you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself further. He seemed unconcerned, even happy to hold all of you, and the contrast between his warm flesh hand and the cool metal of his other arm sent tingles down your spine.

"Is this okay?" he murmured against your skin, his breath hot on your neck.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Your heart was racing, and you weren't sure if it was from nerves about the mission or the proximity of this dangerously attractive man.

Bucky's hand traced lazy circles on your back, and you found yourself relaxing into his touch despite your better judgment. "We need to look natural together," he explained softly. "Like we can't keep our hands off each other. It'll sell the whirlwind romance angle."

You swallowed hard, trying keep it together.

Bucky's hand continued its soothing motion up and down your back, and you found yourself leaning into his touch despite your better judgment.

"Tell me more about your brother," Bucky said softly. "What should I expect?"

You tensed slightly at the mention of your brother, but Bucky's steady presence kept you grounded. "He's… charming," you began, choosing your words carefully. "Charismatic. He can make anyone feel like the most important person in the room. But there's always an agenda behind it."

Bucky nodded, his fingers still tracing patterns on your back. "And how does he usually react to you bringing someone new around?"

You sighed, leaning your head against Bucky's shoulder. "He's protective. Suspicious. I haven’t brought many men around. He'll probably try to get you alone, size you up."

"I can handle that," Bucky assured you, his voice low and confident.

You lifted your head to look at him, suddenly struck by how close your faces were. His blue eyes were intense, searching yours. "Bucky," you whispered, "what if I can't pull this off?"

His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly across your skin. "We will," he said firmly. It didn’t escape your notice that he’d said we, not allowing you to feel alone. "You're stronger than you think, and I've got your back.”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Underneath that charm, he's calculating. Always looking for an angle, a way to use people. And he's dangerous when he feels threatened."

Before, you hadn’t questioned his cold side, thought it to usually be warranted, protective of you and the family and his organization. But now you knew better, illusion shattered.

Bucky nodded, his expression grave. "I'll be on high alert," he assured you. "We'll have to make sure he sees me as an asset, not a threat. But remember, we're not there to confront him tonight. Just to gather information."

"Right," you said, trying to calm your racing heart. "Just information."

Bucky's hand resumed landed on your thigh, and he squeezed reassuringly. You put your hand over his.

"Good," he murmured, eyes dropping down to your coupled hands. "That's the kind of reaction we need."

You nodded, trying to focus on the mission, on the act you needed to sell. But it was becoming increasingly difficult with Bucky's strong arm around you, his warm breath on your neck.

"We should practice," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "What if... what if we need to kiss?"

Bucky's eyes met yours, a mix of surprise and something darker, more intense. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, your heart racing. "We need to be convincing, right?"

Without another word, Bucky's hand slid to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. His lips met yours, soft at first, then with growing intensity. You melted into the kiss, your hands instinctively moving to his chest. The stubble on his jaw scratched lightly against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

For a moment, you forgot about the mission, about your brother, about everything except the feel of Bucky's lips on yours. It felt electric, a spark of something real amidst all the deception you were about to undertake. His metal arm tightened around your waist, and you gasped softly into his mouth.

When you finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Bucky's eyes were dark with desire. "That was..." he started, then cleared his throat. "That should be convincing enough.”

You nodded, unable to form words. The kiss had felt all too real, and you were struggling to remind yourself that this was just part of the act. You couldn't afford to develop real feelings for Bucky, not with everything at stake.

"We should go," you managed to say, glancing at the clock. "We don't want to be late."

Bucky nodded, but neither of you moved.

Then you leaned in and kissed him again. He returned your kiss, metal arm pulling you even closer. Your hands tangled into his hair, and you shifted in his lap so you could press your chest flush against his.

"We really should go," you murmured against Bucky's lips when you had to break off for another breath, but made no move to pull away.

He hummed in agreement, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. You melted into him, all thoughts of the mission momentarily forgotten. There was only the warmth of his body, the softness of his lips, the gentle scrape of his stubble against your skin.

Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the strength coiled beneath his suit jacket. Bucky's flesh hand slid from your hair down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps. You gasped softly at the contact, and he took the opportunity to trace your lower lip with his tongue. Heat pooled in your stomach as you parted your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss further.

His vibrainum hand continued its exploration down your body, while his warm, flesh hand stayed at the small of your back, anchoring you. You lost yourself in the sensation, forgetting for a moment about the dangerous mission ahead. Bucky's kisses were intoxicating, making you dizzy with desire. His metal hand traced the curve of your hip, sending shivers through your body.

Suddenly, the sharp ring of a phone cut through the haze of passion. You jerked away from Bucky, reality crashing back. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a sleek black device.

"It's time," he said, his voice husky. "The car's waiting downstairs."

You nodded, trying to catch your breath and calm your racing heart. As you stood up from his lap, you smoothed down your dress, acutely aware of how close you'd come to losing control.

Bucky rose as well, adjusting his tie and running a hand through his slightly mussed hair. His eyes met yours, filled with…

Filled with what, you weren’t sure.

If you made it out tonight, maybe you might have a chance to find out.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Read more stories from the Deliciously Debauched Labor Day Weekend!

👀

What do we think? Do we want to see more of them?

I think this could be a post-TFATWS and pre-Thunderbolts kind of thing maybe. idk.

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[schemmentigfs]

Caught Red-Handed.

paring: melissa schemmenti x reader.

summary: janine accidentally catches you and melissa during a intense making out session at school.

warnings: smut (obviously) public sex, spanking, dirty talk, mommy kink, praises, fingering, swearing, melissa is just a horny motherfucker in this one.

author notes: the winner of the poll! my inspiration for this oneshot came when I was scrolling through my spotify playlist. Or maybe it was an excuse to write another smut featuring melissa & reader. (yeah, definitely the second option.) sorry for the little delay, I was going to post yesterday but I had an exhausting day and forgot it. Just me being me. Anyways, enjoy. 🫶🏻

You lost track of time as you felt your body being pushed into the janitor's closet with some force and urgency. Your back hit a cupboard containing several of Mr Johnson's cleaning products, some falling to the floor on impact. Making a loud noise echo throughout the entire hallway that could alert anyone, but that didn't scare your girlfriend who, unlike you, wasn't scared of the possibility of being caught and continued the makeout session passionately, smirking into your lips.

“We can't—” your insistence and protests are interrupted by a small gasp when Melissa's soft and warm lips deposited small kisses and bites on your neck. Marking and claiming you as hers, with each of the hickeys. For the rest of the week, you would have to wear something to hide those blue and purple marks if you didn't want any of your co-workers to suspect anything. “Babe. Someone might hear us or worse.”

Since you started a serious relationship with the older woman two months ago, it was common for you to have a secret makeout session somewhere at school that would lead to hours of loving or rough sex (it really depended on Melissa's mood) when you got home. But today, she didn't seem in a hurry to go to her place soon. In fact, she had other plans.

She had spent the entire morning teasing you and discreetly flirting with you whenever she got the chance. And instead of being embarrassed like always, you challenged her at lunch saying that she could do better than that. You were quite naive to think she wasn't going to do anything, but here was Melissa Schemmenti about to fuck you senseless and show you who was in charge.

“You just need to be quiet, sweet girl,” she whispers and began to unbutton your blouse. Massaging and squeezing your breasts through the fabric of your bra. “Or everyone will find out how you are a desperate little slut for mommy.”

You throw your head back, losing yourself in the pleasure and sensation. “Mel,” you groaned when when she throwed the fabric on the floor and pinched and licked your nipples. “Please.”

The older woman stops for a second and put a hand on your chin, forcing you to look into her eyes. “Be a good girl and behave, understand?“

Remaining quiet, you pull away slightly, still a little hesitant about getting caught and having sex with Melissa on school grounds. It didn't sound too appropriate, especially in the janitor's closet. “Honey, let’s go home. We can’t do it here.”

A fury is evident in her green eyes and she slaps your ass hard, making you wince and hide your face in her shoulder. “I told ya to behave and not act like a fucking whore.” Another even harder slap. “Do you understand?” she repeats.

The change in her behavior sent shivers throughout your whole body. Melissa was a very possessive and dominant woman, it was obvious and everyone was aware of it. She liked the feeling of power, of being in control and being honest, you liked that side of her. It suited her a lot.

“Yes mommy, I understand. I’ll be good and behave,” you gulped feeling all the excitement go straight to your core.

“That’s my good girl, now shut up and lean against the wall. Don’t make me wait or I will punish you just like last time,” she commands with a harsh tone and you nod, not wanting to be punished for bad behavior (at least not yet.)

Melissa slowly approaches and gives your lips a tender peck, before undoing your jeans and panties in a quick, single movement. Leaving her precious and innocent angel completely naked, ready to be ruined by her. Instantly you wrap one of your legs around her waist. Earning a satisfied hum from the redhead.

“Look at you, my beautiful girl, always so obedient and ready for me,” she parted your folds with her slender fingers, biting her lip as she noticed and spread your wetness. “I've been thinking about it all day, how I was going to destroy you.”

“Please, I need you inside. Please mommy, don’t tease,” you whimper when the redhead presses her thumb on your clit and circles your entrance. The action emitting a trembling moan to fall from your lips.

“It's kind of funny, you know? Earlier you were all confident trying to challenge me,“ she chucked peppering kisses in your entire face to relax you for what was about to happen. “And now you're begging and aching to be touched by mommy.”

After painful seconds, without warning she enters you with three fingers, filling your tight hole deliciously. Barely giving you time to get used to the painful stretching and thrusting in and out of you at a rapid pace. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, Melissa knew exactly where and how to touch you, making you a squirming babbling mess every single time.

“FUCK!” you scream, covering your mouth with one of your hands. “That feels so good..”

She smiles mischievously, enchanted by the way your walls clenched around her fingers. The smell of sex and the sound of your celestial moans filling the room as she curled and pumped her digits, slowly bringing you to climax. Her free hand gripping your hips to keep you steady.

“Do you like this, babygirl? Do you like it when I go deep inside you?” the woman asks while mocking your totally fucked up state — your hair was slightly messy, your neck was covered in love marks and your eyes were wide. A beautiful sight for Melissa. “Answer me and you'll be rewarded.”

“Yes, I love it when you fill me up mommy. You make me feel so good,” your words came out in a whisper, as your breathing seemed increasingly labored and uneven. Your hips moved back and forth in time with the rhythm of her fingers inside you. “Shit,” You cry out as she finds your spongy spot and slows down a little.

As much as Melissa was enjoying watching your face turn into a complete blur of pleasure with each touch, she knew she had to be quick to avoid the risk of Mr. Johnson or anyone else coming in and catching the two of you in such an intimate moment.

“Such a good little girl. C'mon, sweetheart, cum for mommy,” the Italian whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe. “You can do this, princess.”

“I’m gonna—” you meweld, grabbing onto the lapels of her green blazer and trying to hold Melissa close. A warm white liquid ran down your girlfriend's fingers and wrist, your legs were trembling. You instantly wrapped your arms around her neck so you could balance yourself, since you didn't trust your ability to stand without holding on to something. “Holy shit.”

During your high, Melissa whispered sweet nothings and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. “Take a deep breath, amore mio,” she instructed, removing her fingers from you affectionately, once you calmed down.

“Feel better?” you ask with a genuine laugh putting on your clothes again with some difficulty.

“Much better. But I can't wait to get home and bend you in the kitchen counter.” She responds in a seductive tone, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. And you fight the urge to stay there and let her do whatever she wants to you.

God, that fiery redhead would be the death of you.

“Well, I think we better go home right away. To start our long night as soon as possible..” you spoke with a stupid smile and intertwined your fingers together, pulling her so you could leave discreetly.

But the plan backfired when you opened the door and bumped into Janine, who had an expression of complete shock on her face, alternating her gaze between the two of you, letting her bag fall to the floor. “Oh! You were—” she says louder than usual, almost alerting the rest of the crew nearby. Shit, you had been caught.

An uncomfortable silence settles and you hide your face in your hands, mentally cursing yourself for not having convinced Melissa that this was a bad idea. And now it was time to deal with the consequences of the sinful act.

“Don’t say a word, pipsqueak or you’ll regret it.” Melissa threatens, crossing her arms and giving the youngest a deadly glare, in a desperate and failed attempt to intimidate her, but the redhead's flushed cheeks gave away how embarrassed she was by the situation. “I mean it.”

The second grade teacher raises her hands in redemption. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I swear!” she gives a panicked smile. “I was just in the hallway and I ended up hearing a scream and wanted to check what happened. Guess this explains a lot. So for how long have you been together? Does anyone know besides me? Oh, and are you living together?” Her expression softens and she launches into the questions, seeming to be starting a mini interrogation.

“It’s been two months and no one knows yet, we’re planning to tell everyone soon. And we don’t live together, even though I spend more time at Mel’s house than at mine.” You replied calmly trying to keep up with her quick words.

“That's cute, I'm glad you two are dating. I've always been rooting for you! Seriously.”

After more questions, Janine said goodbye to you. Promising that she wouldn't tell anyone beforehand — this was after another small threat from your girlfriend (of course) who wanted to make sure that wasn't going to happen.

“Next time, I'll listen to you about not doing a makeout session on school grounds. It was a bit awkward.” Melissa admits placing a hand on your back. “Ready to go?”

“Always.”

“Oi, lovebirds. Aren’t you forgetting something?” Mr. Johnson asks, catching your attention. Pointing to a squeegee and bucket of water. “You make the mess, you clean it up.” Fuck, apparently you and Melissa weren't going home anytime soon.

[barcaatthemoon]

just a kid iii || jenni hermoso x teen!reader ||

jenni finally meets your girlfriend, but it doesn't go according to plan.

part i part ii

"chiqui!" alexia flinched at the volume of jenni's voice in the very public place. you jumped up from the table and ran over to jump into the woman's arms. back at the table, alexia shot carmen an apologetic look. your girlfriend had been warned by alexia, olga, and several of your barcelona teammates how you got around jenni. they had failed to mention how much worse it seemed to get after jenni had moved away.

"jenni, i missed you," you told her. jenni smiled as she cupped your cheeks and kissed the top of your head. tucked beneath her arm, you walked with jenni back to the table. "carmen, this is jenni. jenni, this is carmen, my girlfriend."

carmen stood up, standing just a couple of inches taller than jenni. alexia smirked at the look of surprise on jenni's face. she wasn't used to people being taller than her, especially not someone so much younger. it took jenni by surprise, enough so that she didn't mention the very obvious resemblance.

"nice to meet you. i've heard a lot about you," carmen said. she held her hand out for jenni to shake. things seemed to go back to normal once everybody had sat down again. alexia almost wished that jenni had stayed quiet, but she wasn't going to complain when it obviously made you happy to be around the striker again.

carmen seemed to get kind of quiet as jenni took over your attention. alexia tried to engage your girlfriend in conversation a bit more, but it didn't seem to work very well. as much as carmen looked like jenni, she acted just as much like alexia did. according to most of your older teammates, carmen would grow out of being so awkward around people eventually, you just had to be patient.

"hey, i think that i might head home soon. it's getting kind of late," carmen told you. for the first time in what felt like forever to carmen, she had your attention. however, it didn't feel as good as she had hoped it would. you looked hurt, a pout on your face as you prepared to ask her if everything was okay. "have fun, okay?"

"you're leaving now?" you asked. carmen nodded as she stood up from the table. she got money out to pay for her part of the meal, despite alexia's protests that she had it covered. "you're leaving alone?"

"yeah, i'm going to the gym early tomorrow. have a good night." carmen leaned for a moment, and you foolishly thought she was going to give you a kiss. instead, she offered handshakes to alexia, olga, and jenni.

"bye, i love you," you muttered quietly. it really wasn't loud enough for carmen to properly hear, but you were still hurt when she didn't say anything to you. alexia noticed your shift in mood and turned to olga for help, her girlfriend being a better choice of comfort for you.

"do you want to come stay with me for a while?" jenni offered. you shrugged, having hoped to stay with carmen at her new place. it had taken you nearly two weeks to get alexia to agree on letting you spend the night over there, and the one night you get permission, carmen left hastily without you.

…

"am i boring you, chiquita?" jenni asked as she nudged you with her elbow. the two of you had spent the day catching up with each other, but you couldn't tear yourself away from your phone for more than a few minutes. you were going crazy waiting for the good morning text from carmen that didn't seem to be coming. you knew that she was awake, you had seen the posts on her story from the gym.

"no, sorry. it's just that carmen usually checks in with me by now," you told her. jenni frowned as she understood what you were going through. "i'm scared that she's mad at me, but i don't know what i did."

"they say that she looks like me, but that girl is all ale. trust me, it takes time to realize what little things set her off. maybe you should go see her. talk to her, make sure that she knows you love her," jenni suggested. you were nervous about showing up to her place unannounced, but you couldn't just sit back and wait for her to text you anymore.

"who says that you and carmen look alike?" you asked. none of the team had brought this up with you yet, so you were a tad bit confused.

"alexia, olga, eli, pina, jana, mapi, ingrid, and um, everybody else who has met both of us." jenni's tone may have been a bit sarcastic, but she wasn't joking. you scoffed, not believing that at all. sure, carmen was tall with dark hair and a few tattoos, but that was about it. you hadn't put that much thought into her similarities to jenni at all whenever the two of you had started dating. you were just glad that the hot girl in the gym was giving you the time of day.

"whatever," you huffed. jenni teased you a little more as she took you to carmen's apartment. you made jenni drive off, promising to call alexia if things went badly. a part of you was terrified that carmen wouldn't want anything to do with you. if what jenni said was true about everybody believing that they looked alike, you realized that you had probably made carmen jealous. and so, you very nervously made your way up to carmen's apartment.

"(y/n)?" of all the people carmen expected to see as she came out of the stairwell, you were the last one. "what are you doing here?"

"i had to come check on you. it's been three days, and you haven't answered any of my texts or calls. i've been out of my mind worrying about you," you told her. carmen rubbed the back of her neck as she shifted from one foot to the other. she could easily see the evidence of what she put you through as you played with your fingers.

"i, uh, i'm sorry too. it was stupid, but seeing you and jenni interacting, i got kind of jealous. do you want to come with me to dinner?" carmen asked you. you nodded, happily taking her hand as she led you out of her building. you were finally able to enjoy your night as the weight of your worrying was lifted from your shoulders. that night, as you let yourself get comfortable in carmen's bed, you made sure to send both jenni and alexia texts that everything had been sorted out with carmen.

[freelancearsonist]

so scarlet, it was...

➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader - series masterlist

➔ 1.3k words

➔ “Go ahead, yell your fucking head off. That’ll make everything okay, won’t it?”

➔ Rated MA for dark fic kinda, a/b/o themes (alpha joel, omega reader), established... situationship? i guess, pregnancy/contemplation of termination, contemplation of self harm, reader is not in a good headspace. one instance of vomiting, joel is not very nice, this fic in general is not very nice. takes place three years post outbreak. [please let me know if i missed any warnings so i can add them in :)]

➔ thank you so much to my darling @bitchwitch1981 for the prompt, i'm so sorry this is probably very much not what you wanted 🤣 extra special thank you to @perotovar for making this wonderful joel gif for me, if ur reading this ily <3

You’ve never actually used one of these things before. You’ve only read about them in books or seen them in movies from years ago, and they’ve only ever been an object of abject horror.

You understand why now, looking down at those two little lines on the stick cradled in your hand. You’ve never been quite so terrified in your life.

You never should’ve pocketed this test when you found it in that miraculously untouched drug store. You could’ve stayed blissfully unaware. Better yet, you should’ve been more careful. Three years of living like this has been more than enough to make you firm in your decision to never bring life into this broken world. This isn’t a place for a child, this is barely even a place for you. Every day is a fight, every waking moment is a nightmare. But you’ve been so careless with him and now it’s all crashing down, this blissful bubble where you can pretend that everything might be okay because you have the pack and, more importantly, him. 

You won’t have him for much longer when he finds out about this.

You wonder what it’ll take to right this wrong before he finds out about it. It must be pretty early, so maybe it won’t take much to reverse it. Maybe all you’ll have to do is bump into something just right, or trip over the right log.

The thought makes you sick–more stomach bile than anything else coming up because you’ve hardly had more to eat than stale beef jerky and some precarious berries in the past few days. Resources have been so slim; another reason this can’t be happening. You hardly have enough to tide you over, much less a child. And it’ll be even worse once the pack abandons you.

You bury yourself into the haphazard nest of blankets and his worn clothes, letting the heavy, musky scent of him soothe your wracking sobs. 

Maybe you should just accept your fate now, sacrifice yourself for the good of the pack. Everyone is going to die eventually, after all–sooner rather than later in this world. You’ve only been postponing the inevitable. They never have to know why you do it, and it’ll be one less mouth to feed. Two, technically, but they’ll never have to know that. He won’t even really miss you, it’ll be one less burden on his hands. On all of their hands.

You don’t hear them return early from scavenging–maybe because the volume of your own sobs drowns out any other noise. Or maybe because he can sense something is wrong as he enters the run-down little shack you’ve been holed up in for the past few weeks, and he softens his approach because of it.

Joel has never been quite as tender as he is when he takes you into his arms, pulling your face out of the pile of fabric to wipe at your tear-streaked cheeks.

“My omega, shhhh, I’m here. It’s okay,” he murmurs, wrapping you into his big, strong, safe arms. He doesn’t know. Maybe he thinks you had a nightmare, or you just missed him, or a million other things except the truth. But he doesn’t know, and you know he doesn’t know because you feel the moment he connects the dots. His eyes drop to the little white stick clutched tightly in your fist and his entire body stiffens like a board. Suddenly there’s no more warmth or comfort to his touch, nothing soothing about the pheromones drifting from him. He pulls away like you’re infected, and maybe you are. Maybe the thing that’s taken root in you is worse than cordyceps could ever hope to be.

You’ve never been terrified of him before. Joel is dark and brooding and imposing, but he’s only ever fought to protect you. His omega, who wormed their way under his skin despite him fighting it every step of the way. His omega, who’s been the only source of anything remotely close to comfort he’s had since outbreak day. His omega, who’s given him purpose in this dark world.

His omega, who’s betrayed him in such an unforgivable way.

“What the fuck.” There’s nothing but venom in his tone–he looks at you with pure disgust and your resolve crumbles.

Maybe there was a little, tiny, miniscule part of you that hoped it would be different. That he would be excited to be a father, or at least be understanding. But that hope dies so suddenly when you look up into his scowling face. He towers over you, dark eyes flashing with anger, and for the first time since you met him two long years ago you’re scared.

“You were supposed to be careful.” His voice rises further and further with each syllable, as if this isn’t partially his fault too. As if he wasn’t the one in such an uncontrollable rut last month that he kept you in bed all week, losing the willpower required to pull out with each powerful thrust of his hips. As if it isn’t his seed blooming in your womb as you speak.

“What do we do now, huh?” He growls, eyes darkening, fists clenching at his sides. “I’ve fucking marked you, I can’t turn you loose! And we barely make it by as we are! How the fuck are we supposed to handle this?”

He rants for what seems like hours and you flinch with every booming word, curling tighter around yourself in a desperate attempt to simply disappear; to not have to deal with this any more because your heart shatters with each irreversible word he throws at you. You shrink and shrink and shrink in hopes of vanishing because this is undoable. No matter what happens, nothing will ever go back to the way it was and that’s the knowledge that crushes you completely.

Your voice is so small when he finally quiets enough for you to speak. “Go ahead, yell your fucking head off. That’ll make everything okay, won’t it?”

Joel stops in his tracks, white knuckles unclenching for the first time in minutes. He sees the fear and regret in your eyes, and he almost lets it soften him. He loathes himself for this look on your face–for making you scared of him.

His omega. So small and fragile, curled in a pile of his clothes because his scent brings you comfort. He’s dedicated two years of his time and effort to keeping you safe and comfortable, if not happy. He’s supposed to protect you, not hurt you. He’s supposed to give you children and raise them with you, be a family with you. That’s what being your alpha means, and he has so sorely failed you. 

But he knows he can never do that again. That’s never what this was supposed to be. He didn’t mark you out of anything but necessity–if he had let your uncontrolled scent waft every time you went into heat, every alpha in the country would be targeting your little pack of four. You’re his omega out of biological necessity–a warm hole to fill when his rut threatens to tear already strenuous ties with his brother and Tess. That’s what he tells himself because the alternative is so startlingly incomprehensible that he won’t allow himself to even consider the fact that he might care about you; that the urge to care for you and protect you is more than primal, biological instinct; that you mean more to him than anyone ever has.

Not just his omega now, but his mate. His unborn child is growing and growing and growing with each passing second inside your womb and he’s powerless to stop it.

“We’re thirty-seven miles from the Boston QZ,” he growls from somewhere deep in his chest. “We leave at first light.”

You don’t get a chance to argue or plead your case before the door slams shut behind him. 

➔ beta: @beskarandblasters and @fhatbhabie

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics

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[yourstru1y4ever]

Day 17 - "I'm not leaving you."

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Word Count: 1431 Content: Some more of Gojo and Reader taking care of Tsumiki and Megumi! A little hurt/comfort but nothing too too serious, more comfort and hurt I should really say. Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: Someone better stop me from writing more than 1k during these challenges. I keep yapping too much!! Also if y’all didn’t read my day 12 prompt, I have food allergies (one of them being dairy) and I have literally no clue what ice cream is the best choice. Roast me in the comments if you think Gojo would like a different flavor. . . I literally wouldn’t know since I’ve never had any of these flavors before.

You didn’t notice anything particularly different about today. Maybe it’s the August heat? You start to walk over to the nearest convenience store to grab ice cream for the kids when you get back to Gojo’s apartment.

You visit Megumi and Tsumiki a couple of days throughout the week whenever you weren’t sent off on missions and you make sure to be there for the kids if Gojo was on a mission for longer than a day. Although it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve seen them all last due to an overseas mission you had with Yuki.

Before you left for the trip you and Gojo got into an argument and you never really had the chance to resolve the issue. He always had something to do when you called the apartment, never speaking to you and using either Megumi or Tsumiki to communicate to you.

It was childish in hindsight but the longer you both waited to talk about the elephant in the room, the worse it’ll get.

You sigh, bringing a hand up to your head to quiet any fears you might be having. The ice cream is for the kids, first and foremost, but it’ll also be a peace offering to Gojo.

Once you’re in a store you walk over to the frozen sections and grab two different pints for the kids, French Vanilla for Megumi and Mocha for Tsumiki. Looking at the sea of different ice cream flavors, you feel a little overwhelmed, unsure of what flavor Gojo would even like. You check your phone, see the time, realizing you should be back at the apartment by now, you make a split second decision and grab a quart of Sweet Cream ice cream.

You run over to the apartment, greet the door man and get onto the elevator to get to the penthouse level. In the elevator you try and catch your breath, but before you know it the doors slide open to reveal a quiet apartment for once.

“Hello?” Your voice rings out as you step inside. The lights were off and you assume that everyone’s just in their rooms. . . hopefully. You take off your shoes and turn on the living room lights.

Walking over to the kitchen you find Tsumiki standing on her step stool, looking down at a pot of leftover pot roast you made for them before you left for the mission. You also notice that the rice cooker is almost finished. As soon as it beeps, Tsumiki comes out of her trance-like state and finally notices you.

“You’re finally home!” She sets down the spoon and step stool and runs up to you.

You open your arms out to her and give her a big bear hug, “Where’s your brother?” You ask and she shakes her head.

“In his room, sulking.” She rolls her eyes, pulling away from you. “Gojo kept telling us you weren’t coming home.” She adds, avoiding your gaze.

“Why would he-?” Was it because of your argument? Did he think you would leave for good?

“You’re home?” A voice quietly asks. You turn and see Megumi looking at you with a shocked expression on your face, like he never expected to see you again.

“Of course, I brought your favorite ice cream for you both to have after dinner.” You tell them, as you fluff up Megumi’s hair. He gives you an annoyed look, but it doesn’t last long.

“Let me finish dinner for you Tsumiki, you both can go set the table,” You nod towards the table as you put the ice cream in the freezer. You look at the stovetop and give a quick taste to the reheated pot roast. It was almost perfect, just needed something fresh to give it some levity.

You peek inside the fridge, feeling the kids behind you grabbing some silverware and some bowls. And of course there’s nothing left in the fridge, you think and make a mental note to go grocery shopping with Tsumiki on the weekend. You look in the pantry and it’s almost just as empty but you see that there’s a little bit of red wine vinegar left. You take it and add it to the pot roast, and when you taste it there is the perfect amount of acidity to brighten up the dish.

“Okay it’s all set!” You announce and the kids bring their bowls over to you. You give them both a good portion of pot roast and then they get some rice to go with it. You grab your own portion of the food and join them at the table, listening to Tsumiki tell you about what you’ve missed.

Soon you all finish your dinner and Tsumiki and Megumi clean up their dishes. Gojo still hasn’t come home yet; Megumi mentioned during dinner that Gojo went to Jujutsu High for a meeting, but never said when he would return home. 

You give them each a small scoop of their ice cream; Tsumiki’s eyes sparkle with joy while Megumi gives you a small smile in thanks. You also give yourself a small scoop of Gojo’s ice cream but you can’t bring yourself to finish it. Before you know it, they finish their dessert and it’s late enough for them to go to bed.

“I’ll be sure to give you your souvenirs tomorrow.”

“You’ll be here in the morning?” “You got us souvenirs?” They overlap. “Yes to both of your questions,” You give them each a hug goodnight, sealing the promise, “I’ll be here in the morning, don’t worry.”

Once you get them in bed you head back over to the kitchen, the ice cream you had for Gojo now melted. As you grab your phone to call him Gojo steps into the kitchen, meeting your gaze.

“You’re. . .”

“Home.” You finish.

He nods and looks away from you. 

“The mission took a lot longer cuz Yuki kept taking me to different tourist spots in America. We took care of a couple of curses over there. I got some souvenirs to give to you guys.”

He doesn’t even acknowledge you as he walks past you, not listening to your story.

“Talk to me!” He stops but doesn’t turn back to you.

“I don’t know why you’re pushing me away but I didn’t want to fight with you about Megumi’s training. It’s just- He’s still just a kid.” You tell him, “But I know he needs to learn about his technique and understand jujutsu sorcery. I’m sorry for arguing with you about it.”

Satoru turns back to you, “I’m just as terrified as you, you know! I want to teach him properly, not have him become someone like-” He stops himself, looking down at the ground.

Oh.

Oh.

It was the anniversary of Geto. . .

“You seemed really upset when you left and I was worried. . . I don’t know, but I need you to know that I’m just as worried about Megumi too.”

You give Satoru a hug and he clings onto you, bringing his head into the crook of your neck. 

“I’m not leaving you,” You whisper to him.

“Do you promise?” He mumbles.

“I promise,” You reassure, “Especially not after that argument. We shouldn’t have argued about it in the first place.”

“That what I was trying to tell you back then,”

“Bullshit Satoru.” You can feel him smile against your neck and you hug him a little tighter.

He moves his head from your neck and puts his forehead against yours, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, you big dummy,”

“Wow, okay.” He laughs, pulling away from you.

“What! Don’t tell me I wounded your pride by calling you a dummy.”

“Like that would hurt my pride.” He rolls his eyes, and sees the melted ice cream in the bowl. “What’s-?”

“Oh, I bought you Sweet Cream ice cream as a peace offering,” You tell him, “I might have had a small scoop after dinner though.”

“I know how you could make it up to me,”

“And what’s that?”

“Giving me some of your sweet cream~”

“Satoru-!” He kisses you and you want to push him away but he’s got you trapped between the kitchen counter.

He pulls away from you and you cover your mouth, trying (and failing) to cover your blushing face.

“You got the best kind,” He whines.

“I- I didn’t eat it all y’know.” 

“I know, I just think you’re so cute when I make you blush.” He gives you another quick kiss before moving to the freezer to eat the ice cream right out of the container.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Can you please make more Remy LeBeau content? I love that little Cajun man so much! Please and Thank you!

Remy LeBeau x male reader

Headcanons

I’ve had this plot idea for a while, so im gonna try to shake it out my system. I know very little about Cajun culture, European here, so take it with a grain of salt. Sorry for the lack of posting, classes have already been beating me up and I literally just started.

You were your average Cajun kid when you met Remy, back when he still ran with the thief’s guild and before he was adopted by Jean-Luc.

You were a bit of a stereotype when it came to New Orleans Cajun kids. You liked to cause trouble, you liked to party, you liked to hunt frogs at night and spearfish Gar when there were no frogs. And damn did you like messing with the gators. All your messing around did make you lose your pinky on your right hand, but it didn’t stop you.

You were no mutant, but you might as well have been with all the stuff you got into. You always claimed it was just your Cajun roots that kept you immortal.

That was how you met Remy, through all your troublemaking. Youd just shoved one of your friends bullies into the swamp near your neighborhood, and immediately legged it, knowing his brothers would feed you to the gators if they got the chance.

That’s how you end up running right into Remy, sending you both skittering across the ground. Before he could say anything though, you just grad his wrist with your four fingered hand and drag him along, cackling as the bullies’ brothers try and catch you.

The two of you end up in a completely different neighborhood, hiding under somebodies porch as you try not to snicker as the older boys run right past, cursing up a storm about the “gator bait” getting away. And yes, that was what people called you in your neighborhood, because of your hand.

Remy had expected you to immediately fear him or become disgusted at the sight of his eyes. But instead, you just told him they were cool as fuck and you wished your eyes were like that.

After hiding for a while, the two of you split up to go about your lives. But you end up bumping into each other quite a lot, since you both just like to wander. That’s how you two end up becoming friends, even as hes part of the thieves guild.

You end up dragging him to your house too where he meets your mother. Your dad wasn’t around anymore, he drowned when you were a baby, but your mom said you had his fire and lack of self-preservation.

To Remys shock, your mom didn’t mind his eyes either, just accepting him in with a kind but tired smile. He later learns your mom works two or three jobs depending on the season to keep you guys fed, which is why you have so much time to run around.

You two keep growing up together, even if there at times is distance for different reasons. You keep causing trouble, but get better at hiding it, you become real good at figuring out the area, the waters, the people and animals, so on and so forth.

This helps you get your first job as a guide for tourists. You don’t really like it, but they tip you pretty well. You use that money to take Remy out for sno-balls, or rather, its you going in to get them, so you guys can eat them on your backyard porch.

You both gained a lot of scars over the years from the different lives you lived. Youd never asked Remy about the guild, and he never really asked too much about the different scars on your arms and legs he was sure came from a knife and not fishing wire.

It was also on that porch you guys shared your first kiss. It was clumsy, uncomfortable, your lips stained blue as his were green, from the thick sugary syrups used on the sno-balls. But it was still the best kiss either of you could have imagined.

You two never got to explore too deeply what your relationship meant. one week Remy was more distant than usual, before he suddenly showed up at your place, looking worse to wear, telling you he needed to get out of New Orleans.

You weren’t gonna question him, so you packed him into your truck and just started driving. The entire time he clung to your hand, looking at you so intensely, like hed never see you again. But you tried to keep the mood light, joking as usual and playing your favorite music.

The goodbye was one of the hardest things in your lives. You even told Remy you’d leave him with, ready to leave it all behind to stay by his side, wherever he would go. But Remy knew you had a life here, you had your mom, a good job, other friends, he couldn’t ask that of you.

So, in the end, Remy simply kissed you goodbye, and said he hoped you two would meet again. And disappeared into the night, like something out of a dream.

A couple of hours passed before you decided to drive back home. You smoked through an entire pack of cigarettes, so tempted to also empty the bottle of alcohol you hid under the seat in your truck. But you also knew you needed to return to your mom.

So with one final longing glance in the direction Remy disappeared, you turned back around and drove back home, New Orleans feeling less vibrant and lively than usual.

It would be years before you two meet again, and even then, it had been an accident.

You had left New Orleans behind after Remy left, your mom passed away,  and nothing really kept you there without either of them. It took a while before you finally settled down in New York. It wasn’t the same as where you grew up, but it was good enough for now. And if nothing worked, you could just go back to Louisiana and live in a small shed, where you’d spend your days catching fish.

What brought you together, was that your neighbors kid developed their mutation. Something they couldn’t hide, their eyes so different they couldn’t even use contacts as an excuse.

If their parents had been kind, hadn’t been so openly ex-mutant, you might not have done anything. But you’d heard rumors of Charles Xavier, and how his school helped Mutants like that.

So, you packed your neighbors kid into your truck, the same you’d driven Remy in, with what they needed to bring, and drove them there. Like the ride with Remy, you tried to keep the mood light, hoping to just keep it all from falling apart.

It took some time to get to the school, through whatever security they had, and to the front door. Part of you feared it was the wrong place, until the guy who’d spoken to you over the security comm stepped out. That visor made it pretty clear he wasn’t just your average joe.

Normally you’d have left it at that, leaving the kid with people who knew what they were talking about and doing. But they were too scared to be alone, and after some scowling from a guy that looked like a hairy homeless guy, you were allowed in.

Your thick accent seemed to gain some positive or funny reactions, that same hairy guy from before grumbling “another Cajun”. But you were mainly focused on getting the kid settled.

Of course, until you heard a familiar voice, laying his usual flirts on thick with somebody. Remy was still as handsome as when you last saw him, though a little older, but so were you. The kid was introduced to him, and the two already seemed to bond over their eyes being their main visual of their mutation.

“They reminded me of you, maybe that’s why I felt so protective” you just throw out there, hands in your pockets as you shrugged, your voice immediately catching Remy’s attention, who seemed as shocked to see you as you were him.

It was clear you two knew each other, and that emotional look in your eyes had the others shuffling off to keep showing the kid around, as you two were left alone.

You two go out back to sit on the porch of the mansion. It wasn’t the same as in New Orleans, but it still had your heart racing. It was awkward for a moment, you two sharing what you’d been up too since you last saw each other.

With you, Remy didn’t need to put on the plays like usual, he could just be Remy LeBeau and nobody else, and holding your hand with only four fingers in his own laid to rest some of the pain that had been present for years.

You two didn’t immediately start dating or anything. It was more returning to what was before, without all the stealing and trouble you two used to get into. At least, not to the same degree. But it built at a comfortable pace.

You became an honorary visitor of the mansion, since the kid you brought there still felt quite attached, but also for Remy. You were also able to worm your way into the hearts of the other x-men, some quicker than others, but you did it anyways.

Remy spent a lot of time at your place too, and he even helped you move when you moved just a bit closer to the x-men.

Neither of you could really tell when it went from deep pining to dating. One moment you guys just finally started kissing. The cuddling, sharing clothes and many other things that came with a relationship was something you already did, so the kissing was truly the last part missing.

You do end up having to learn better self-defense, being close to the x-men like that. But for Remy you’d do anything, even doing stretches that have your legs screaming since you aren’t used to bend like that.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

The Tiefling Bachelors Taking Care of Sick! Reader Getting Treatment

A/N: This was sitting in my drafts, finished months ago, but I guess I never posted it? Oh well, it’s here now! 

No one asked for this but it came to me as I was getting infused the other day. I really wanted Zevlor to manifest out of thin air and hold my hand  😔. Anyway, without further ado… Here we go!

Characters: Dammon/Reader; Rolan/Reader; Zevlor/Reader

Word Count: 1.1k 

TW: Brief discussions of illness, some fantasy medical talk

Dammon- 

Dammon is probably the most fussy of the trio. He’s bumbling around the tent, ensuring you have enough blankets and water. Or do you want tea? Juice? Whatever it is, love, name it and he will fetch it for you.

He means to be helpful although his nervous waiting on you does create an air of anxiety in the room. 

If he gets too manic, the healers have to send him out on an ‘errand’, so that he can collect his nerves and so you have time to yourself. 

When he returns, Dammon is much calmer, having been cornered and given a pep talk by one of the elder tieflings or your companions outside. 

He’ll sit across from you, and distract you by showing you his latest outlines/blueprints for swords and lathes and such. 

If you’re particularly stressed, or truly not feeling well due to the side-effects of the treatment, he might even show you his jewelry designs. Dammon was, of course, planning to give them to you as a present after you’d finished your treatment, but in the meantime, he’d like you to keep them in mind to have something forward to look to. 

If you’re sleepy, he’ll just stay at your side while you rest, sketching in his book or making idle chats with the healer. 

Dammon excels at ‘parallel play’ kind of dates. He quite enjoys it when the two of you are each doing their respective thing within a shared space. He’s more than comfortable amusing himself while you just chill out right next to him. 

Of course, before you leave, he asks the healers a million questions, scrambling down all their answers. How long will this last? What side effects should you look out for? What happens if things get worse? He wants to be prepared after they take their leave, and he sees it as his responsibility to take care of you as you recuperate. 

He’s really so sweet, like a little puppy dog. He’s not always the most helpful, and he has a tendency to get in the way, but his efforts never fail to lift your spirits at the end of the day.

Rolan-

Rolan is such a stickler for being an oppositional brat all the time. He gives everyone around him whiplash by turning into the most overbearing parental figure. You’d think he’d been possessed if it wasn’t for that trademark smirk of his. 

He’s constantly making you drink. No, he doesn’t care that you’re not thirsty, the healer said to stay hydrated throughout the process. And no, he doesn’t care that it means you have to get up to pee every 15 minutes. Urinary frequency is a small price to pay! Now be a good patient and drink your chamomile tea without any more complaining, yeah?

He watches the healers like a hawk, mentally recording their every word/move. He’s not a cleric or druid, but that doesn’t mean he’s entirely naive to healing magic. He wants to make sure whatever spells or potions you’re being given are up to his standard. 

And if the healing isn’t magical in nature... Oh boy, he’s going to be even more of a pill about it. He still hovers of course. But he also makes the occasional ‘helpful’ suggestion like: ‘I know a spell that could do that faster’, ‘Herbs are nothing compared to the power of the Weave’. The healers just roll their eyes and work around him. 

If he gets really grouchy, you’re gonna have to put him in a time-out. If not for your sake, then for the poor healers who are just trying to do their job. Rolan argues for a moment, but ultimately agrees, leaving to gather himself. 

When he comes back you can tell either Cal or Lia have spoken some sense into him, since he’s calmed down a bit. Rolan will sit with you, read to you, hold your hand if you beg ask, he might even perform a few tricks for you if you’re feeling up to it. 

He ushers the healers away as soon as they're done, wanting to just be alone with you. He puts up a tough exterior, but deep down he’s afraid. He cares for you so much. You, Cal, and Lia are his family, he feels it's his job to protect you, but try as he might he cannot protect you from your illnesses, and that hurts him deeply. 

You’ll need to comfort him once all this is all over. It’s as much an ordeal for him as it is for you.

Zevlor-

Zevlor is a worry-wart, bless his old paladin heart. His mind is always racing with endless possibilities- about the tieflings, about the grove, about you… It can be a lot for the commander to handle. 

But because Zevlor is a paladin and former hellrider, he has a good amount of experience working under pressure. He knows how to keep a level head and act on what is good for those around him, unlike what seems easiest to accomplish. 

He’s a very disciplined man, and he tries to get that discipline extended to you as you heal. He sets up a regime, for diet, exercise, and socializing catered especially to your needs and current abilities. He wants you to utilize this time to maximize your healing, and just let yourself trust that you are doing all you can to take care of yourself. 

He trusts the healers implicitly, knowing their expertise is much better suited to you and your current priorities. He’ll cater his regime around their recommendations, taking into accommodation your current feelings/moods of course. 

He writes out instructions for you to read while he’s away, busy tending to his duties. In the event he’s especially worried about watching over you, he’ll send Tilly or another one of his soldiers to check in on you periodically. 

Zevlor would love nothing more than to spend the entire day with you, keeping you safe in his embrace, but he’s wise enough to understand that even amidst these kinds of things, life must go on. He cannot abandon his duties as leader and you cannot abandon your life. 

Zevlor tries to maintain the status quo as best as possible, he doesn’t want your illness and treatments to entirely define your life, just as he wishes Elterel will not solely define his. 

Once all is said and done, he comes to find you, a warm broth in his hands. He settles down next to you as you sip your meal slowly, his tail coiling around your waist keeping you close to him. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, you don’t need to. It’s clear to you what’s in Zevlor’s heart. 

The two of you just sit silently together, enjoying each other's company, as you brace yourselves for yet another new dawn. 

I hope you enjoyed! 

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[akirathedramaqueen]

There's one piece of concept art that made me see the entire Apology Tour disaster in a different light.

So, we've been talking with @warblogs17282 about Stolitz and how their break-up ended up playing out in the 'Apology Tour' episode.

Why ended up? Well, there's a collection of concept art which, to my limited understanding of this craft, is one of the first steps in the production process of animation. This post by @birdy-babe includes a great chunk of it, shared by artists after the episodes aired (like storyboards, but much more stylised, showing how different some original ideas were). Long story short, one of the concept arts from the 'Apology Tour' episode suggests their quarrel was originally meant to be much harsher.

A short summary of the concept art to see what we are dealing with

In the background, you see a lot of apology postcards and silly cutesy stationery, suggesting Blitzø is in the middle of his Apology Tour.

The contact name isn't 'Stols' but 'Bird Dick,' implying their relationship is at an earlier stage, with less respect—at least on Blitzø's part.

There's a photo partially cut by the edge of the messages screen. From the signature gloves and boots, cowboy hat covering Blitzø's private parts, and visible nipples, it appears to be a nude image—replaced in later stages of development with stupid gay affirmation memes (as hard as it is to believe, I couldn't imagine there could be anything worse than the Striker horse gay jokes... well, it could, my dudes, it fucking COULD).

There are three messages, one of which is unsent:

"Stolas, cum awwwwwwn, u no u want it :)"—likely attached to the nude;

"Dude just talk to me"—desperation crawls in; he finally realises the shit has hit the fan;

"Im sowwy :("—an apology, but the text remains unsent, perhaps because it seems pointless, given that the 'Not Delivered' notifications and warning signs indicate Stolas has blocked his number.

Why do I find this fascinating, and why does it fill me with immense hope?

Because they still fucking care so much, and neither has completely closed the door on the other. By comparing the concept art to the final product, you can see how many intentional choices were made in dialogue, visuals, and behaviour to make it clear that these two idiots still want things to continue. Stolitz is meant to fucking live.

Now, if you want to see some comparisons—evidence, really—let's dive into each other's changes, focusing on what we can gather from the concept art.

Blitzø's side

Change 1—thank gods, no nudes. The gay memes are sillier and a bit lighter. Of course, they still showcase utter disrespect, a horrible prejudice against sexuality, and a poor understanding of how deeply Stolas was hurt, but I find them... less bad.

Change 2—no more 'Bird Dick.' Blitzø has actually come up with a real nickname for Stolas! Feelings are boring for you, huh, Blitzø? I can almost hear the song’s lines: "O-oh, hooked, addicted you might say, conflicted in a way…"

Change 3—Blitzø's attempts to apologize now show much more contemplation. Since Stolas hasn’t blocked him, Blitzø knows his words aren’t just being thrown into the void. Although the 'unsent' detail remains, it now carries real weight and impact.

All three changes are seen in these two GIFs.

He knows he did wrong. He knows he wants to salvage it. He might not yet know how to do it healthily, but he tries—he tries so fucking hard!

Look at the range of raw, cutting emotions as he speaks to Stolas and finally delivers his apology—probably the only one he genuinely meant. Well, maybe except for Verosika, a bit later.

It's not that it's hard for Blitzø to say 'sorry'—we've seen him do it a lot lately. He's actually quick to apologise and take responsibility, so Stolas's remark about him not feeling any remorse couldn’t be further from the truth. But the fact that he isn't running away this time—chasing after Stolas and trying his best to mend things—is drastically different from how he treated Verosika back then.

Stolas's side

Here’s the moment that struck me deep. It’s the only change, since the concept art shows Blitzø’s POV, but it’s such a significant one.

Do you think Stolas has moved on? Do you think he’s done with Blitzø? Not convinced, even when he’s literally singing about still wanting Blitzø?

Well, here’s your proof—he didn’t block Blitzø. They scrapped that.

More than that, the entire interaction emphasizes that Stolas isn’t pushing Blitzø away for good.

How do I know this? Stolas is very insistent on using phrases like 'for now,' 'right now,' and 'now' throughout his attempts to tell Blitzø off.

Here are some citations:

"I was hoping my lack of 'ha-ha's' in response to the photos you sent me would be an indicator I didn't want to talk right now."

"Seeing you right now is hard!"

"I'm tired of this! I'm uncomfortable with how you're speaking to me now!"

Why is this so important? Because he isn’t asking Blitzø to leave him forever. All he’s asking for is time.

Even while hurt, Stolas gives Blitzø plenty of chances to explain himself civilly. Look at the hopeful glances each time Blitzø shows any glimpse of genuineness.

Stolas fucking hopes Blitzø will take back all the cruel things said and brash actions done.

You know, Stolas... I've spent the entirety of this morning listening to love ballads, and that was...

For what?! You want me to be like, "Oh sorry, this entire time I assumed the worst because I was convinced a prince could never love someone like me and I've let my self-hatred stop me from apologising to anyone I could ever care about!"

You see the furrowed brows and the sad look? Stolas hopes for the best... but gets the worst because Blitzø isn’t there yet.

I’d even go so far as to say Stolas is acutely aware that Blitzø uses his brashness as a shield to protect himself. He literally sang about it in 'Just Look My Way.'

Unless it's me? And no matter what in this world I could give, it's not enough to get through these walls you've conjured up to live.

So, what gives?

Is this the behaviour of people who want to give up on a relationship they still clearly hold dear?

No. Even when they’re angry, aggressive, hurt, or drunk, they still seek understanding and forgiveness. They continue to listen and try.

They might lack the skills and may choose the wrong time, place, or words to express what truly matters...

One person, scared of being rejected so much that he unconsciously conveys this message by saying, "You don’t have to stay here with me," and carrying it throughout the whole conversation...

The other, coming to terms with his feelings, admits them, and his fears, a bit too late—when his romantic interest is too drunk to comprehend anything…

And in both cases—self-loathing, self-hatred, doubts, scars, trauma… and a lack of hope.

But there is hope. No, this is reassurance, my folks.

You know when it's hardest to stay in a relationship? When it’s hardest to come and say, "I am sorry," when it’s hardest to still love the person?

When you’re hurt. When they’ve hurt you.

And, despite that, you still come to them and still want to talk to them.

If this isn’t ironclad evidence that this is more than just a fling or a couple of fun sex dates, I don’t know what is.

And the 'Apology Tour' fucking proves it, rather than ruins it. It only strengthens the point. It’s easy to live in happiness, but it’s so hard to go through it while you’re in pain. When you see them doing that, you realise it means everything to them.

Stolitz is to live.

[t-lostinworlds]

Competitively Stupid | Steve Harrington

》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: rivals-ish (since childhood) to lovers, some angst; fluff

》 SUMMARY: It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

》 WARNINGS: canon divergent (everyone is alive & well & happy thanks), pet names (sweetheart, baby), shitty parents (on both sides), competitiveness on all accounts, r is basically a counterpart of steve during high school (cheerleading captain, queen of hawkins high, swim team captain, etc.), peer pressure-ish, some stupid decisions & stupider actions, very irresponsible cliff jumping (which doesn't end well), drowning, CPR, injuries, an emotional moment™, love confessions, and a happy, sappy ending.

》 WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

A/N: hi! okay, well, it's been a while since i posted a steve fic so i'm kinda nervous ngl. also, not me making it a habit to include swimmer!steve in all my fics from here on out. this was meant to be short & sweet to dust off the cobwebs but lol. super random. i saw a video of someone cliff-jumping & boom, the idea was born. also, not me using the first aid training i learned in college.

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE H. MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

You genuinely have no idea why you were even doing this in the first place.

"There's no way you can do it."

Right.

That's why.

The taunting voice of Steve fucking Harrington was the reason why you were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a thirty-foot drop into the dark ocean.

This was supposed to be a relaxing trip with your new found family.

"You know you don't have to listen to him, right?" Robin sighed, so completely over the fact that her two best friends who never got along no matter what she tried, somehow came to an agreement to not listen to her right now.

Not that you could blame her.

You and Steve had been rivals ever since you were kids.

It was what you had always known.

What with narcissistic parents who used their children as pawns to one up each other, you had been conditioned to see him as an enemy from the second you step foot into their home.

Your family was invited into the Harrington residence for dinner as a way of welcoming you to the neighborhood. You recently just moved in, so you didn't know anyone else yet. When you heard that the next-door neighbor had a son who was your age, you had been really excited to gain a new friend.

All that changed when your dad sat you down an hour before, prepping you about how the Harringtons were a respected family in the town, and that you needed to show them you weren't any less than them, if not show them you were better. He drilled it in your brain to be on your best behavior, to be the best and the perfect daughter.

It only got worse when you finally sat down at that dinner table.

The comparisons were endless.

"See, my daughter here is a wonderful gymnast, quite amazing for someone her age."

"How wonderful. Steven here has swimming lessons every weekend. His coach said he might end up in the Olympic team once he's of age."

"Splendid. How about his academics? I'm sure he can take inspiration from my daughter's exemplary grades."

"He's the top of his class. Maybe if they study together, your daughter would be able to catch up in time."

It was harsh, pitting two seven-year-olds against each other—impressionable kids who only wanted to make their mom and dad proud.

But neither your parents nor his truly gave a shit. All they cared about was becoming the best family in the street, if not the whole town.

The sad thing was, those dinners became a regular thing, held alternately between your house and his.

It always looked like a preparation for battle whenever your mom would pull out the finest china in her collection along with the cookbook she only ever used for special occasions.

It was in the guise of cordiality when it was, in fact, an excuse to show off, to make a competition out of everything, a moment to compare who did what best. Those dinners were like monthly scoreboards, tallying up the respective families' recent achievements—and that included yours and Steve's.

Nobody was surprised that the competitiveness stuck with you both.

And it only got worse during high school.

Whether that was something as mundane as winning the popularity contest when running different circles—even going as far as getting crowned the King and Queen of Hawkins High—down to academics and extracurriculars.

Captain of the basketball team. Captain of the cheerleading squad. Prom Queen. Prom King. MVP of the season. Brightest student of the year. Beer pong Queen. Kegstand King. Best summer camp counselor. Lifeguard of the month and it went on and on and on and on.

When he got co-captain for the men's swim team, you rubbed it in his face that you were the captain of the women's team. When you got second place at the science fair, he made sure to rub his first place medal right in your face. When you became president of the student council, you ordered him around to do extra work whenever the basketball team was required to help with community service.

It was a constant back and forth.

There was always a competition between you and Steve Harrington.

And sure, since you graduated, it became subdued. But it was still very much there. Vying on who was the coolest babysitter in your band of ragtags, even fighting to have the title of Robin Buckley's ultimate best friend.

This thing between you and Steve was deeply rooted. So there really wasn't much Robin could do apart from getting in between your frequent squabbles before you started actually killing each other.

In Robin's words, something drastic had to happen for you both to finally wake up and see that this rivalry between you both wasn't what it seemed to be on the surface.

You had no idea what she was even implying.

Now, on a little getaway on the nearest beach you could drive to, the competition started with a race on who could get there first. It wasn't even fair seeing that you weren't the one driving.

The group had split into two, some were in Eddie's van—along with everyone's belongings since he had ample space in the back—while the others were in Steve's Beemer. Since you and Steve couldn't be in the same room together without an argument ensuing, it was a unanimous decision to have you two separated. Nobody wanted to deal with that for hours on the road.

Not that you could blame them, either.

And sure, it was the kids who suggested the race, but with Steve's smug smirk and that arrogant wink he threw once you got into Eddie's passenger seat, you knew it was game on between you too.

Yet despite the metal head being a fast—albeit slightly reckless—driver, he somehow took his sweet goddamn time getting to your destination.

Only when your group arrived at the beach last, did he say something about Steve threatening him to be extra careful with driving because there's important cargo in his van—whatever the hell that meant.

You lost to Steve on that one, but you would argue it was rigged from the start.

The next was a supposed friendly bout on who could build the biggest sandcastle that didn't topple over after a few minutes.

It was boys versus girls with you and him being team leaders. The girls won, obviously and El never used her powers. It was fair and square since the other team mostly argued over everything they could think of and had no teamwork at all. You made sure to point that out to Steve as you watched their sandcastle crumble into ruins.

Another one was beach volleyball. Same leaders as before, but you get to pick the members of your teams this time. Steve made it his mission to pick the tallest of the bunch. Still, it wasn't the advantage he thought it was because it ended up being one point too close.

Your team would've won if Steve wasn't such a dramatic asshole.

It was truly an accident. When you spiked that ball, you were not aiming for his face. He simply thought it was a good idea to catch the ball with it. Besides, he was distracted, flirting with some random girl in a bikini who was passing by, right in the middle of the game.

How was it your fault that he wasn't paying attention?

He made sure to oversell his injury after that, curled up on the sand as the girl fussed over him. But you saw that smirk on his face. You would've hit him again—definitely not by accident this time—if you weren't busy arguing with Robin about the point deduction. She said it was only fair since you hit the ball when she hadn't blown her imaginary whistle yet.

You decided to let it go when Steve commented on you being a whiny sore loser.

Unfortunately, the competition was ending with who could make jumping off a cliff and into the ocean look the coolest—adults only, despite the groans of protest from the mischievous bunch.

Eddie offered to stay behind and watch the rascals. When teased, he simply said he didn't want to test Death today.

His comment didn't help your nerves.

Robin said she was only coming purely as a voice of reason. She'd been saying nonstop how it was a horribly stupid idea, that there really was no need to be doing this in the first place.

But Steve wasn't backing down, so you weren't going to either.

So once again, it was only you and him.

As it always had been.

He volunteered to go first, throwing in a comment about rushing back up the cliff's edge before you could take your turn because he wanted a front-row seat for when you'd chicken out.

It only made you want to do it more.

His dive was smooth, almost flawless, you admit. He even showed off with a little flip near the end. It didn't take long for him to swim back to the shore, either. His years of training as a swimmer were obviously paying off.

But you trained just as much if not more than he had.

The only difference was, adrenaline didn't fuel you as much as it did Steve. So instead of getting all powered up looking down at a cliff's edge like he was, you were terrified.

But who wouldn’t get scared looking down at harsh waves crashing against sharp and jagged rocks? There was no margin for error here because one wrong slip and you'd be dead.

Still, if Steve could do it, you could do it better.

You weren't about to lose to his stupid ass.

"I'm not listening to him," you argued back, taking in a shaky breath as you took a step.

"He's doing reverse psychology!" she squeaked. "So you doing it is still listening to him!"

"I'm fine, Robs, I can do it," you mumbled, a slight questioning lilt at the end of your sentence.

"Look, sweetheart, it's okay to admit defeat," Steve said, cocky voice with an even cockier smile as he crossed his toned arms against his bare chest. His hair was still damp, quick to climb back up so he could get his front-row seat as he promised.

But you weren't chickening out.

Never.

"I mean, it wouldn't be the first time you lost to me so, it shouldn't sting as much."

You ignored him.

Instead, you took another step, the tips of your toes now hanging over the edge.

You can do this. Wipe that smug smirk off his face. You got this.

"Listen, you don't have to do—"

"Shut it, Harrington," you growled.

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, counting from three, two, one…

You jumped.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

He shouldn't have pressured you like that.

The jump wasn't deadly, per se, but it also wasn't exactly deemed the safest, especially if you weren't an expert in any sort of way.

And he didn't want to say it out loud because if he did, he knew it would only push you to do it more just to prove him wrong.

But Steve could see how scared you were.

He was already dropping the act, voice laced with concern as he started telling you that he wasn't worth all of this, that he was stupid and that you were always going to be better than him.

But, obviously, you didn't listen.

You simply jumped.

You and your stupidly competitive ass.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, rushing to the edge of the cliff, tensely watching your falling figure disappear into the water with a splash.

"You two are complete idiots."

"Shut up," Steve gritted, never looking away from the water. Yet any annoyance was quickly overpowered by sheer worry as he scanned the deep blue for anything.

There was no sign of you.

"Like seriously! It's like I'm the only one with a brain cell here!"

"Come on, come on, come on," Steve mumbled, completely ignoring Robin when you still hadn't emerged to the surface. "Come on, Y/N, don't scare me like this."

"Uh, Steve?" Robin asked after a moment, carefully looking over the cliff before shooting him a worried glance. "You look anxious and you being anxious is making me nervous."

"She hasn't come up," he grumbled, glancing at his watch.

It was nearing a minute.

"Maybe you didn't see her?"

"I haven't taken my eyes off the water, Buckley," he gritted, too harsh and uncalled for since Robin didn't do anything wrong.

But he was panicking.

A minute and thirty seconds.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can do it. You're an amazing swimmer," he whispered encouragingly, hoping some sort of magic would let you hear him underwater all while saying it aloud for his own sanity.

Two minutes.

You could never hold your breath any longer than that.

Steve knew because he always won that competition.

And that was in a calm pool.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, gearing up to dive after you. "I don't think she's coming up!"

"Okay! Okay," Robin rushed, panicking. "Maybe she's already on the shore. We should go down now and see—"

Steve didn't listen.

He jumped right after you.

The biting cold was awakening.

Still, it was the absolute fear of losing you that was keeping him alert.

He ignored the sting of the salty ocean water in his eyes as he frantically searched for you, his heart beating hard and fast, struggling for oxygen all while fearing for your safety.

Steve didn't know which came first, relief or dread when finally found you, aimlessly floating and unconscious under the deep blue.

He swam to you as fast he could, securely hooking his arm under your shoulder and dragging you up to the surface.

Steve always knew that adrenaline can give you a random boost of strength when needed. He simply didn't expect that to be proven true when he was carrying your unresponsive body in his arms as he brought you to the shore.

He gently placed you on your back on the sand, cupping your face as he checked for any injuries.

You were so cold.

"Hey, hey, wake up," he begged, grabbing your shoulders to try and shake you awake.

Nothing.

"You didn't have to make the jump, you idiot. Why do you always want to prove me wrong," he scolded with no ounce of anger, only worry. He started tapping your cheek frantically. "Come on, wake up!"

Still no response.

"Dammit, Y/N, why'd you have to be so fucking stubborn," he scolded, his voice shaking in fear, his chest tightening as he pressed two fingers against your pulse point.

His own heart stopped when he couldn't feel yours.

And you weren't breathing.

Steve tried to keep himself calm. If he panicked now, he wouldn't be able to give you the aid that you direly need.

"Come on, Harrington. You know what to do. You trained for this," he mumbled to himself, getting into the proper position to give you CPR.

He gently cupped your forehead with his left hand, his other two fingers under your chin as he tilted your head up.

"You're going to be okay," he whispered, pinching your nose before slotting his lips against yours.

Breathing into your mouth, one, two, he watched your chest rise as it filled up with air, only for it to settle back down without coming back up again. He quickly kneeled straighter, locking his fingers together and placing the heel of his left hand in the middle of your chest, pushing down with enough pressure to try and get your heart to start again.

"One, two, three, four, come on, sweetheart, breathe for me," he mumbled, easily finding the right rhythm, his first aid training as a lifeguard coming back to him like it was second nature.

Still, he never wanted to use this skill in a real-life situation, much less use it on you.

It was the longest thirty counts in his life.

Check for a pulse. Check for breathing.

Still nothing.

"Goddammit, Y/N, come on!" he growled, blinking back the tears as he pressed his mouth against yours again.

Two rescue breaths.

Thirty chest compressions.

Steve repeated the cycle over and over. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears, his knees were burning as the rough sand dug deeper into his skin, and his arms were starting to get sore, tiredness slowly covering his aching muscles.

But he'd rather die first than give up on you now.

"Steve—"

"Call for help, Robin!" he ordered, not taking his eyes off you for even a second. When he didn't hear any movement, he yelled, "Don't just stand there! Go!"

He was going to apologize for being an asshole later. For now, he needed you to fucking breathe.

"Come on, come on, please," he begged, leaning back down to give you two more rescue breaths. "Breathe for me, baby, please."

Thirty chest compressions.

"Trying to prove me wrong when I've always been wrong, you idiot."

Five, six, seven—

"Sweetheart, come on," he choked back a sob. "Who's going to call me out when I'm being stupid, huh? You know Robin can't do it alone."

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen—

"And you're really going to leave me alone to watch our kids?"

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—

"Y/N, baby, please, I can't live without you," he whimpered.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thir—

Steve felt his breath leave his lungs when you finally gasped for air.

He quickly turned you to your side, rubbing your back as you choked out all the ocean water that got into your system.

"There you go, you're okay," he whispered, whether to reassure you or himself, he didn't even know anymore. All he was focused on was making sure you were going to be okay.

"S-Stevie?" you coughed out the nickname that was only ever used by you.

It was the equivalent to his nickname for you—sweetheart.

Names that started out to annoy each other but the more often it was used as time passed, it only managed to grow into an endearment that held something warm underneath it. You both were quick to realize that the nicknames you had for each other weren't out of spite anymore.

Neither of you simply addressed it.

"Steady, sweetheart, I'm right here," he reassured, hurriedly getting into your line of sight to stop you from trying to turn around to face him. He gently cupped your cheek, offering you a soft smile when your gaze found him. "I'm not going anywhere."

You nodded as best as you could, your eyes clinging onto his brown ones only for them to screw shut when a shiver ran through your whole body.

"C-Cold," you stammered.

"I know, I know, come here," he said softly, guiding you to sit up before quickly settling behind you. He gently pulled you closer between his legs, his chest pressed against your back as he blanketed his body over yours, rubbing your arms to keep you as warm as possible.

You turned to face him slightly, burying your face into his neck only for you to wince at the slight movement. He quickly tried to steady you again, checking over you twice to look for any visible injury. But he couldn't find any.

"Tell me what hurts," he asked, pressing his lips against your cold forehead as he fully wrapped his arms around you.

"A-Ankle," you whimpered in pain, your grip on his waist tightening and God he hated that sound so much.

You must've rolled it when you jumped, and having landed on it when you reached the water, it definitely made it worse.

"It's okay, you're okay," he murmured, littering kisses against the side of your head to try and keep your mind off it. "Robin already called for help, they should be on their way, alright?"

You gave him a small nod, inching even closer to him, seeking as much warmth from him as possible. Your cold breath was tickling his skin but he didn’t care. Hell, you could be breathing fucking ice and he still wouldn’t give a shit.

As long as you were breathing.

"I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"

"I-I'll try," you whispered.

"First to fall asleep is the biggest loser," he mumbled, squeezing you slightly when he felt your eyes flutter close. "And you wouldn't want me to win this, babe, because I'll be a little shit about it."

"Not f-fair," you choked out a laugh.

"It's plenty fair," Steve chuckled tearfully, ignoring the sudden wetness on his cheeks. He hugged you tighter instead. "So stay awake or you'll lose to me. Again."

"Right there! They're right over there!"

Steve had never been so grateful to hear Robin's voice.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"So are you finally going to tell her?"

"Tell her what?" Steve questioned back, unable to take his eyes off of you, soundly sleeping in a hospital bed with your foot now wrapped in a cast.

The doctor had already checked everything and thankfully, there weren't any further injuries apart from your twisted ankle.

Now, all you needed was to rest and recover.

"That you've been in love with her this whole time."

Steve sighed, squeezing your hand before turning to look at his best friend.

"I'm not in love with her, Robs."

"Right," she scoffed, raising a knowing brow. "Because jumping off a cliff with zero hesitation so you could save her is totally normal behavior for someone you claim you hate."

"I never said I hated her," he argued, and it was true. He couldn't think of a single moment where he hated you.

"Yeah, well, you two definitely don't act like you like each other."

"Does she annoy and frustrate the shit out of me? Yes. But I never hated her," he admitted.

Steve didn't know what it was exactly, maybe it was his tiredness muddling his brain, maybe it was from everything that happened in the last couple of hours finally catching up to him, or maybe it was the overwhelming need to confess everything into the open before it was too late—and it almost had been. Either way, he found himself suddenly spewing out all the things that he always just kept to himself.

"She's also been the most constant person in my life, you know? Hell, we basically grew up together. I can't just not care about her," he continued, memories flooding his system before he could even stop it. "She's been so ingrained in my life, her and the cute dresses she wore at those stupid dinners our parents always dragged us to. Her and her stupid competitions whenever our babysitters would bring us to the park together. Her and that stupid dance she always did whenever she won at anything even if it was my expense—she always does this cute little wiggle whenever she won, and that never left her even as we got older," Steve chuckled at the thought.

"And fuck, don't even get me started with how similar our parents are. She's the only one who will always get me when it comes to that," he continued. "And yeah, we compete a lot, but there was no hatred between us. Maybe at the start but all that went away when we learned that whatever our parents were feeding us was bullshit—that they were bullshit.

"And fine, did I sometimes get so annoyed whenever she got a new boyfriend? Yeah. But only because she always had this bad habit of dating fucking assholes. I don't know where she got those dickheads from but every time I see a glimpse of her crying by her window at night I swear to fucking God I would've killed every single one of those assholes if she asked," he gritted, slumping down in his seat with a sigh.

"She deserves to be treated right, you know? She's already experiencing so much shit at home, she doesn't need any more of that anywhere else. Sure, she irritates me to no end but that doesn't mean she's not a sweet girl who always cried whenever some random pet commercial came on the TV during the holidays. Does her competitiveness drive me up the wall? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean I don't feel so fucking proud of her whenever she wins another medal or achieves another milestone. And yeah, I wonder about how she's doing, if she's taking care of herself, if she's getting enough sleep between her work and classes. But that's only because I worry, you know?

"And maybe I do think about her a lot but that doesn't mean I'm in love with…"

Steve blinked.

Well fuck.

"Wow," Robin marveled. "You're stupider than I thought."

"He hit his head as a kid, cut him some slack."

Steve paled at the sound of your voice, swiftly turning red at the thought that you probably heard all the things he said.

He turned to face you, groaning in annoyance when he saw the smug smile on your lips. "You've been awake this whole time?"

"I'll leave you two love birds alone," Robin sang, quickly slipping out of the hospital room and closing the door behind her.

"How much of that did you hear?" Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Enough to say you're stupid," you hummed.

He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with crossed arms. "I'm not the one who jumped off the cliff and almost died just to prove a fucking point."

"Yeah, well, I guess we're both stupid then," you snorted.

He shrugged. "I guess we are."

"Jesus, you don't have to act so tense. I mean, you've already given me a mouth-to-mouth, we've practically made out already," you scoffed playfully. "I honestly thought I'd die first before swapping spit with you yet here we are."

It was your attempt at alleviating the tension, to throw in a funny quip. But with everything still so fresh in his mind, Steve simply couldn't take it well.

"Don't fucking joke about that will you?" he snapped, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.

The silence that followed only made the tension worse.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Steve immediately felt bad.

"No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong, don't apologize," he sighed, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. It's just—"

He stopped himself, chewing on his bottom as he looked everywhere but at you when he felt the tears well up again.

"Will you come here?"

Steve took a calming breath and did as you asked, moving his chair closer but didn't attempt anything else than that.

"Stevie," you called when he still wouldn't look at you.

Harshly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he lifted his head. You smiled at him sweetly, wiggling your fingers to get him to come even closer.

"You scared me back there," he croaked, taking your hand with a squeeze.

"I didn't mean to," you softly said, remorseful and apologetic even though you didn't have to be.

"I know," he murmured, pressing your warm palm against his cheek as he shot you a glare. "Just don't do that again."

"Promise," you giggled, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Steve leaned closer into your touch. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks to you," you hummed, brows furrowing in thought. "When Marcus got that black eye, you said it was because he was playing dirty on one of your games." You tilted your head knowingly. "That wasn't true, wasn't it?"

Steve shrugged. "He hurt you."

"It was a small bruise on the arm, Steve," you reasoned.

"He shouldn't be giving you a fucking bruise in the first place," he growled, the memory bringing back the same anger he felt when he first saw that bruise. The soft tapping of your finger against his cheek calmed him down. "Sorry."

"Did you lose on purpose to get him expelled?"

"What? No!" he scoffed, offended, rolling his eyes when you giggled. "I tried so fucking hard to win that fight, you know, for you."

"You've always been protective of me," you hummed, taking his hand and interlacing your fingers together.

"Don't think I didn't know it was you who dyed that poor girl's hair green that one year in middle school summer camp," he retaliated.

It was a sharp and piercing scream that woke up the whole camp that morning. Everyone rushed out of bed to see what was going on only to find a girl who once was blonde was now sporting bright green hair in the middle of the crowd, crying her eyes out.

Steve would've thought it was only some silly prank if he didn't know who the girl was. But he did. Because the day before he tried to ask her to be his girlfriend, only for her to turn him down in the most embarrassing and humiliating way possible.

It wasn't difficult for him to find out who the culprit was since he immediately noticed how you kept hiding your hands in your pockets for the next few days after the incident.

The counselors quickly found out that the little menace—whoever she was—decided to use permanent dye on the poor girl's hair instead of something washable.

Your green palms colored you oh so guilty.

"She called you pathetic and gross in front of everyone!" you argued, pouting. "You looked like you were about to cry and I hated it."

Steve's heart warmed at that, a smile on his face despite rolling his eyes. "I wasn't about to cry."

"Yeah well," you shrugged, eyes trained on your intertwined fingers, your thumb playing with his. "I'm the only one who's supposed to be mean to you."

"Hmm," he agreed, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. "I guess we've always been there for each other, huh?"

"I guess so," you giggled, cupping his cheek and tugging him closer.

He stood up from his seat, following your lead until he was pressing his forehead against yours.

"Thank you for saving my life, Steve," you whispered, eyes turning glossy as so many emotions covered your irises, the weight of what almost happened catching up with you.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he said sincerely, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "I'd do it over and over again in a heartbeat."

You nodded, sniffling, "Still, thank you."

Steve wasn't able to argue some more when you all but kissed him.

The first time Steve felt your mouth on his was a horrible experience considering he was trying to keep you alive.

Now, everything was the complete opposite.

A kiss that was careful but sweet, a hint of nervousness and excitement all the same, completely unhurried yet burning with passion as his lips molded against yours.

But still, it felt like that first gasp of air—a finally.

"I'm in love with you, too, by the way," you murmured as you pulled away, your warm breath tickling his lips.

"Thanks for clarifying," he chuckled, eyes laced with adoration, unable to stop his smile from growing wider, warmer. "I couldn't figure that out from the kiss."

"I mean, you are kinda stupid," you teased.

"We're on that same boat, sweetheart," he chuckled. "I'm sure Robin would remind us about that every single day now."

"Unfortunately," you groaned playfully. "God, she gets annoying when she's right."

"Tell me about it," he hummed, brushing his lips against yours, moving away when you chased it.

You whined.

Steve didn't hesitate to dive back in.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[reiderwriter]

hii!!! so i was wondering if you could do a one shot that’s inspired by either false god by taylor swift where spencer and reader are just worshiping each other? thank you <3

Hi! I'm not much of a swiftie, so I've never heard that song before I sat down to write this but it was perfect inspiration for a fic! I hope you enjoy it 💕

Warnings: Case details mentioned, typical CM violence, angst-adjacent confrontation with happy ending, hurt/comfort, heavy petting, oral (F receiving), squirting (implied), vaginal sex, implied creampie (no birth control mentioned). 2.2k words. Based on:

It was when the door to your hotel room slammed shut that you knew there was finally going to be a confrontation. Combing a hand through your hair, you threw your bag down and turned to look at Spencer. He stood there, just watching you from the door, his jaw tense as he struggled to break the silence and actually talk to you the way you knew he wanted to. 

“Spit it out, Spencer. If you’re going to push your way in here, you might as well say what you want to say.” You were frustrated and his silence was only making the fatigue from a day on a tough case worse. “Come on, Spencer, I don’t have all day.” 

“Do you want to die?” His voice held steady when he finally let out the words, and they hit you like a succer-punch. “Because what I saw out there today seemed like someone more than happy to put themselves in harm's way for no reason.” He stepped closer to you as he said the words, and you felt yourself grow hot. You just weren’t sure if it was from shame or anger. 

“Don’t profile me, Reid. I knew what I was doing.” You turned your back on him and began to go about your business, hoping that he would drop it and vacate the room as quickly as he’d stormed in. 

“You tried to take a bullet for me. Y/N, I was in the middle of talking him down, and you pushed me out of the way and forced his hand.” 

“So will the thank you card be delivered in the post, or can I expect it on my desk tomorrow?” You still wouldn’t make eye contact with him, thinking back to the events of the day. 

You’d known the plan all along was to have Reid talk the suspect down while you got his last victim to safety. Everything in the profile pointed towards the unsub being a loner, someone with narcissistic personalities who you knew wouldn’t end up shooting his way out. Someone that had acted with a cold violent misogyny in his crimes, and someone who would not respond well to a female agent trying to get through to him. You knew all that and you still couldn’t help yourself. 

“In this world of ours, Agent, men like you and I should be Gods. It’s my right to take that power for myself,” the man had said, holding his hostage in his arms as if she were a ragdoll, carefully watching every movement you and your team made. Morgan and Emily had the back entrances covered should he try to run, and Hotch, Rossi and JJ were coordinating with the backup SWAT team outside, should he gain any miniscule upper-hand in the situation. 

It was when Reid started talking to him again that you felt the bile rise in your throat and your body stop listening to your rational thoughts. He was giving the man everything he wanted to hear; stroking his ego, complimenting him, agreeing with him, and the man was responding as well as you could hope. 

But something was wrong, and it was clear from the moment that he levelled his gun in the direction of Spencer and released the female victim that something was about to go horribly wrong. 

“I think I was wrong, actually. We both cannot be Gods, can we?” He laughed as he said this, and you froze up instantly. Your only regret was probably that you forgot to go and check on the victim sitting on the floor, your eyes watching on in horror instead as your body through itself in front of Reid just as the unsub was ready to pull the trigger. 

The push had knocked the two of you off-balance. But the unsub was slack-mouthed and caught off-guard. He hadn’t even pulled the trigger yet, and now here the two of you were sitting pretty for him on the floor of his dump site waiting for him to put a bullet through your brains. He didn’t have the chance to, the SWAT sniper getting the orfer to open fire the second you’d strayed from protocol. 

Spencer still hadn’t left your room, his anger and frustration rolling off of him in waves. You moved about the room in an organized frenzy, completing your nightly rituals with as much obvious frustration as you could muster. You dropped your gun and badge on the nightstand, pulled off your jacket and mindlessly rooted through your bag looking for nothing in particular, praying that Spencer would walk out of the door and not force you to face your stupid decisions. 

Instead he grabbed your wrists, spinned you around and pushed you against the wall, forcing your eyes to meet with his as he pinned you there. 

“Stop fucking ignoring me,” he growled out in a low-voice. The sudden burst of movement had you both gasping for breath and you just stood there quietly again for a few seconds, breathing each other. You gave in first and rested your head against the wall, letting him force your eyes up to meet his.

“Ask me the question you really want the answer for, Reid. Because we both know I’m not suicidal.” 

“Why won’t you let me keep you safe?” his voice came out in a small whimper now, his body weight slowly pressing up against yours as he moved to rest his forehead on your head. The two of you stood there suspended in time, just lost in the feel of each other, the pressure and the heat from his body in contrast to the sharp cool of the wall at your back, and you silently begged him to make a move. But he was determined to get you to answer, holding his tongue when all you wanted him to do was crash his lips against yours and help you to fill yourself with him. 

“Because I do not want to be safe in a world without you,” you finally confessed. He lasted only a few seconds with that answer hung between you before he gave you what you wanted. 

His lips were cracked and dry but he was warm and sweet and you instantly received him, desperate to pull him so close that he could never leave. Your lips crashed together again and again, as if desperate to stretch your first kiss into your first ten, twenty, one hundred. He dropped your wrists after an eternity, only to greedily run his hands up and down your waist, snaking around you so tight that you gasped and let his tongue in. 

He explored you with his entire body, his mouth pressing into you messily his hands roaming desperately trying to map the plains of your body, like knowing you would be his salvation. You did the same, gripping his sweater with balled up fists and forcing him closer into you, unwilling and unable to let him move away. 

He gently walked you to the edge of the bed, not straying from his ministrations for even a second, until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you were falling. But he was falling with you, and so you didn’t care, 

He finally pulled away from you then, raising himself up onto his arms and looking down on you like you’d personally put the stars in the sky. 

“Have you ever stopped to think for a second that I’d hate any world without you in it as well?” Shifting his weight, he bought his hand down to cup your cheek, then let his finger ghost over your neck and down to the swell of your breasts as he moved to undo each button of your blouse tantalisingly slow. 

“Give me the word, and I will worship you. I will show you exactly what you mean to me. Just give me the word and I will let you know peace.” You whimpered out a breathy ‘yes,’ and he was on you again in seconds, with a renewed passion. 

Your blouse was discarded in seconds as his tongue traced its way down to your breasts in sloppy open-mouthed kisses, and still the only sound that filled the room was your desperate pants. Your hips rolled up against his as he pulled you up to discard your bra, his tongue finally landing on your painfully erect nipples. He tweaked and teased, moving between them languidly, and you were content to have him stay there forever. 

He obviously had further plans though, and he moved lower still, kissing down to your navel and lifting your hips just enough for you to shimmy them down your legs and discard them quickly. And then there he was, just sat with his head resting in between your legs, pressing sweet kisses to the insides of your thighs and looking deeply into your eyes as he worked his way closer and closer to your core. 

Your panties were slick to your skin, so when he made his first drag of his tongue up your slit, it was with the beautiful added friction of the lace against you. He buried his face in your core then, and started licking and sucking and devouring you like a man starved, like you were nectar from the heavens and your attentions could grant him immortality. 

Even with the panties interrupting any direct contact, you could feel your need for him bubble up to your boiling point, and you squeezed your thighs around him, suffocating him in your first release. He pulled your legs apart again, taking the time to remove your panties now before pinning your legs apart again and returning to his last supper. 

He sucked, nipped, kissed you again, one hand pressed firmly against your hips to pin you down as you bucked and writhed in your sensitivity. His face was slick with your juices, as he thrust his tongue in and out of you now, using his nose to press into your aching clit. 

He worked tirelessly, desperate to shower you with all the attention he wanted to give you, and you gasped and moaned and whined back to him, like a goddess whispering affirmations in the ears of her most devout follower. 

It was understandable when your second orgasm hit, then, and he found himself flooded with your juices, doing his best to ride you through this time and taking in as much of you into his mouth as possible. When he finally pulled away, your legs were twitching and your eyelids heavy, but with your remaining strength, you cupped his cheeks and bought his face up to yours. He face glistened with your cum, his lips now plump and shining, and you pulled him down to you, aching with the desire to taste yourself on his tongue. 

“I’m going to keep you safe and hold you like this until you understand that I am not capable of living without you, do you understand?” he whispered in your ear when he finally pulled away, and you let the tears that had been building up fall finally as he pressed one final kiss to your lips before moving away to rid himself of his clothes. 

You were crazy to think that you would ever be able to turn your back on this man, that he would ever walk away from you and leave you alone. As he returned to you you held out your arms open to him, and he fell into them. It was a home-coming, a return to the palace the both of you belonged, wrapped up in each other like that. 

Still weak from his earlier attentions, he helped you move your legs to wrap them around him, as you twined your arms up and around his neck, pulling him in for a deep and passionate kiss as he pushed despairingly slowly into you. 

You winced as you adjusted to his size and he pressed chaste kisses along your neck as you got used to him, whispering between each one. 

“You’re beautiful,” your neck. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met,” your jaw. “I will spend my entire life in awe of you,” the corner of your mouth. 

When you were ready you finally blinked your eyes open and pushed your mouth into his, and he finally began his movements. Rocking his hips gently into yours, the two of you were in no rush to consume each other, savoring the feel of your coupling. You finally understood the meaning of calling the act making love - never before had you felt so cared for, so loved and desired as you did in that moment with Spencer Reid. 

You felt him getting closer and closer to bliss when he started picking up his pace slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his body heavy with the weight of his love for you. 

“I love you,” you gasped out as you felt him shudder inside of you, letting him hear the words just as he was tipped over the edge. Even though it was the first time you’d voiced the words so clearly outloud, you felt no panic, no anxiety at having made a hasty decision. It felt right, it was right. 

And you were going to keep telling this man, who worshipped you so wholly, as often as you could from this day forward,so help you god. 

[akiizayoi4869]

The Southern Raiders

Been meaning to make my own post about this episode for a while now, so here it is. The main thing I hear about this episode is that Aang didn't understand Katara's pain at all but Zuko did. The notion that a genocide survivor doesn't understand another genocide survivor is certainly one hell of a take, and it's very stupid. Are we really going to forget the air nomad genocide?

Aang lost EVERYTHING because of the war. And to make it worse? He feels guilty because he wasn't there to stop it from happening (even though he wouldn't be able to do much since he hadn't mastered the four elements yet) because he ran away from his duties as the avatar. When Aang finds Monk Gyatso's body in the Southern Air Temple episode, he's overcome with so much grief and anger that he triggers the avatar state:

Katara herself even compares what she's been through to what Aang was feeling in this moment by saying "I know how hard it is to lose the people you love! I went through the same thing when I lost my mom." Certainly sounds like two people who understand each other perfectly if you ask me. Also, in the Lost Adventures comics, we're shown that the Fire Nation used a dirty tactic to smoke out any other airbenders that might have escaped from the genocide.

We see how happy Aang was to learn that some airbenders may have survived, only to find out that it was all a lie to capture any remaining survivors. At the end of the comic he looks disappointed and crushed knowing that the possibility that air nomads fell for this trick and were killed as a result.

A lot of people take Katara saying "I knew you wouldn't understand" to Aang as her saying that he doesn't understand her pain, but if you actually look at the context? That's not what she's saying at all. What she means is that she knew that Aang wouldn't understand her need for VENGEANCE. For her desire to kill her mother's killer. Because Aang was taught that revenge isn't the answer. Even though Aang absolutely understands how she felt, something that he says himself:

In both of those moments he felt extreme anger and hatred, both strong negative feelings that would have caused him to lash out and do something that he would regret later on. Who stops him in both cases? Katara. She calms him down (and can I just say that I think it's really poetic that in this specific episode, Aang's words are what calms Katara down in the end, and is why she decided to spare Yohn Rha?) in his moments of rage, something that he's grateful for.

Another argument that I've seen is that Zuko understands her pain more than Aang because he also lost his mother. While I can see why people make this comparison, those are two entirely different situations. Ursa was banished because she protected Zuko from being killed when he was a child. Which means that she's still alive (as we later find out from those horrible comics). Kya, on the other hand, was KILLED because she protected Katara by saying that she was the waterbender that they were looking for. This happened in a genocidal raid by the Fire Nation. Safe to say that Zuko can never understand what that feels like.

Also, it's pretty crazy to me how people can say that Aang was wrong in this episode, when Zuko HIMSELF says that Aang was actually right, and that what Katara needed in the end wasn't revenge. Aang knows Katara a lot better than Zuko does, and he knows that killing the man who killed her mom would have absolutely destroyed Katara because of the kind of person she is. Just like Aang remembering how he killed all of those Fire Nation soldiers in the North Pole while he was in the avatar state and being controlled by his past lives and the ocean spirit caused him to have nightmares and be terrified of what the avatar state can do. Both of them are alike in that regard. The closest thing I can say that Zuko understands about Katara is her anger. Boy spent 3 seasons being angry so he definitely understands that. But other than that? He doesn't understand her, which is to be expected since he just joined them a few episodes ago, and spent a whole year chasing them and trying to capture Aang. So he's just started getting to really know everyone on a personal level. In conclusion, Aang did indeed understand Katara, and his words were exactly what she needed to hear.

[krirebr]

What You Can Do for Your Country

Pairing: dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1916

Summary: Being Captain America is a lot harder than anyone realizes. Steve thinks you might be able to help.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, face slapping, no smut but heavily implied future noncon, general meaness, explicit language, governmental malfeasance. It's dark, you've been warned. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Divider by @cafekitsune

Masterlist

A/N: I'm not fully sure what happened here. I've been wanting to test out the waters of posting writing here for awhile, but I'd sort of had it in my head that I'd wait for a challenge that spoke to me. This is an idea I've had floating around for awhile and when it finally coalesced into something writable, I thought 'fuck it, why not?' So here we are. I'm kind of terrified that I'm just tossing this into the void, so if you read it and have a sec, please let me know what you think!

You wake up slowly. There's no sound or light, so it takes you a moment to fully realize that you’re even awake. You can't see anything, but you can feel that you're slumped in a corner and that the surface beneath you is hard. You’re definitely not in your room. Where the fuck are you? You try to move into a more comfortable position, and that's when you hear the soft jingle of metal clinking against itself and feel a slight tug on your leg. Your hands immediately go to your ankle, and you find a leather cuff around it, with a chain connected to the wall. You're fully awake now, breaths coming out in short, uneven bursts. Don't panic don’t panic, you try to tell yourself, but that mantra seems to only be making things worse. There's so much to panic about. You reassure yourself that you're still dressed. Things could be worse. The thought strikes you as unbelievably bleak.

You take a deep breath and try to focus. What's the last thing you remember? You were leaving work. The sun was setting, but it wasn’t completely dark yet. A car came up behind you? Or maybe a van? Everything's fuzzy and disjointed when you try to remember anything beyond walking out the door of the coffee shop.

A door suddenly opens into the room, closer than you expected. The space is smaller than you thought. Light floods in from the hallway, blinding you painfully and obscuring the figure stood in the doorway. They flick on a light in the room and the pain in your eyes becomes worse. You cover your face with your hands, trying to lessen the glare and help your eyes adjust. You hear a chuckle from the doorway and slowly look up at the man you can now clearly see. 

It takes a moment to recognize him out of context. But only a moment. It's Captain America. Steve Rogers. You know him. Sort of. He comes into the coffee shop sometimes, since it's right by Avengers Tower. Tall whole milk latte with a sprinkle of nutmeg. He's usually with one of the others. He's nice, tips well, friendly. As friendly as he is with anyone he comes across. It's kind of his whole thing. Of course he's nice to everyone, he's Captain America. Big smile, patriotism, and apple pie. All that jazz. What is going on?

At first, your desperate heart thinks that he must be there to rescue you. But then you actually take him in. He's not in his uniform, but dressed casually, in a white t-shirt and jeans, barefoot, his arms crossed over his massive chest, leaning on the door frame. 

And he's smirking at you. 

"Good, you're awake," Steve says, voice calm and even, but there's a hardness in the way he looks at you that has you trying to cower further into the corner as he approaches. There's nowhere to go and it only takes a few strides for him to get to you. Now that you can see your surroundings, you seem to be in some sort of cleared out walk-in closet. There are bare shelves on the walls and two empty hanging rods line the longer sides of the room. He crouches down in front of you. "I wasn't sure how long you'd be out."

You want to scream at him to let you go, ask what the fuck is going on, something but instead what comes out is a pathetic "Please don’t hurt me!" 

His face completely softens and he coos "Oh sweetheart," as he brushes away a tear you hadn’t realized you'd shed. Maybe you got this wrong. Maybe he is here to help you. Maybe it's going to be al– "What else do you think you're for?"

And then, before you've even had time to process what he's said, he slaps you across the face. Hard enough to make you slump back into the wall, uselessly cradling your cheek, tears streaming down your face freely now. You've seen enough clips on TV to know he didn't put his full strength into it and that, more than anything else that's happened so far, has you so terrified you can barely breathe. 

Steve tips his head back and briefly closes his eyes, growling out an elongated "Fuuck." He touches the hot spot where he hit you and gives a satisfied smile when you flinch and whimper. "I was right," he mutters to himself. "This is exactly what I needed." 

You’ve never really felt like an especially small person, but even crouched like this, he dwarfs you. Up close you’re able to really appreciate how gigantic he is and it makes any fight left in you completely disappear. What are you supposed to do, up against a super soldier?

But you also can’t just completely give in yet, so when his hand starts to wander from your cheek down your neck and to your chest, you do your best to bat it away and put as much strength as you can into your “Don’t touch me!” 

When that same hand comes up to roughly grab your chin, you try to avoid him, but you’re shown once more that there’s really nothing you can do. Steve squeezes cruelly as he says “You are going to figure out very quickly that ‘don’t’ is a word you're not allowed to use with me. Along with no, stop, and wait. You’re mine now and I can do whatever I want with you.” 

He lets go of you with a slight push and the back of your head hits the wall. You let out a whimper and he chuckles again. You finally give into your confusion and let out a quiet “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” he says, and this time you recognize how that word drips with condescension. “This must be so hard for a stupid little thing like you.” He brushes your hair off your forehead with an exaggerated pout, and you don’t get how this could be the same man that always made a point to ask how your day was going whenever he ordered from you.

He stands up so that he’s truly towering over you now. “You have no idea how hard it is to be Captain America,” he says, “to always be expected to do the right thing, to be good and kind and wholesome,” he snarls the last word. “It’s impossible to keep up without losing your goddamn mind. I can’t just be a symbol of all things patriotic  and virtuous all the time. I’m a real person, not a fucking bald eagle. It's becoming a problem.” He looks down at you and smiles the most terrifying smile you’ve ever seen. “That’s where you come in. There are some days when I just need to hurt something. So now, every bad mood, impure thought or filthy desire I have, I’ll just take it out on you. And then I’ll be able to go back into the world and be the Captain America they need me to be.”

You just stare at him, wondering how you’ve never noticed it before. This man is insane. An actual sociopath. What kind of plan is this? This isn’t– no! “You can’t just do that!” You argue. “I’m a person, too! I have a family, a job, a life! People will notice I’m gone. They’ll come looking for me.” 

Steve laughs outright this time, and it’s startling in how cruel it is. There’s really nothing of the man you thought you knew in the one standing in front of you. He crouches down again and gets so close to you that you can feel his breath. “Oh baby, you really are a dumb bitch, aren’t you?” He turns his head slightly to whisper right in your ear, “Everyone already knows what’s happened to you.” He leans back so that he can see the horror on your face. How is that possible? It can’t be.

“You really think I just grabbed you off the street, all by myself? Oh no honey. I went through official channels for this. I requisitioned you. I meant it when I said it was becoming a problem. I’ve been… slipping, lately. And when I slip, it doesn’t just affect me or my team, but the entire country. It affects the fate of the entire free world. So when the president himself came to me and asked what I needed to get my head on straight, I told him what I’ve told you. A pretty little thing to hurt and I gave him your name. And so you were delivered to me today by a fleet of government vehicles. Your family’s been well compensated. They’ll never have to pay taxes again, for a start. And you, I’ve given you an incredible purpose. A chance to serve your country, a chance to help all of humanity. Everytime I’m able to go out and save the world, it’ll be because you’re here, serving me. You should take pride in that.”

You can’t help starting to cry again. This can’t be true. It just can’t be. Your family can’t have– No. Steve’s lying or they didn’t have a choice or– “Why me?” is all you’re able to eke out from the jumble in your head. 

“Because every time I went into that coffee shop and you looked up at me with those big eyes and that sweet smile, all I could think about was how badly you needed to be ruined. Broken. And how I wanted to be the one to do it.” 

You let out a sob at that. You always thought that when it came down to it, fight was your fear response. But now you understand, you’d never been truly afraid before. In the face of real, hopeless terror, all you can do is freeze. There’s nothing else to do. You can’t fight him. You can’t run. No one is looking for you. You’ve never felt so powerless in your life. You’re pathetic and weak. That’s what Steve saw in you, isn’t it? That’s why you’re here.

“Those tears are so pretty, baby. Got me so fucking hard.” He stands up with a slap to his thighs. “Alright, enough talk. I’ve waited too fucking long for this.” He walks to the opposite wall and gestures to you. “Get up, take off your clothes. I’ve been dreaming about what’s under that uniform.” You cry out and huddle further into the wall, but he clucks his tongue at you. “Trust me when I say that you don’t want me to have to tell you twice.”

You nod needlessly and get up, your legs shaking underneath you. You throw off your shirt just to get it over with and push down your pants until they get stuck on the chain. You pause at your underwear, but a growled out, “Keep going,” has you robotically removing them as well. 

You try to cover yourself, but know that it’s useless. He paces in front of you and groans. “Fuck, you’re so soft. You’re gonna break so good, baby.” He takes off his shirt and throws it on top of your own, his muscles rippling with the movement. You can’t help the whimper that comes out and Steve grins at you as he approaches, hands beginning to unbuckle his belt. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll teach you exactly how to be the perfect little toy for me.”