#and who is the only one we trust who can make the ghosts following us disappear

[writeforfandoms]

Fast Car 2

Find my Simon Riley masterlist

Two years after the end of the world, you have a choice to make, and potentially a new life to settle into. One thing you definitely now have: a nemesis.

Warnings: Swearing, lots of grumbling, gentle interrogation, don't forget these guys are a trained very effective unit, dick-ish behavior, reference to cannibalism, reference to the wider zombie au.

Word count: 1k

You approached the meeting place carefully, slowly. Sure, you were planning to go with them. But that didn't mean you had to trust them. 

It wasn't terribly hard to spot three people, standing exactly where hat guy said they'd be. You didn't see tall and scary, but that was just fine with you. 

Maybe you'd get lucky and he'd been eaten overnight. 

“Took your time getting here.” 

Spoke too soon. Grimacing, you half-turned to see him emerge from his hiding spot, gun in hand but aimed away from the two of you. Small mercies. 

“I'm on time,” you defended yourself, planting your hands on your hips. It wasn't as effective given the large pack on your back, but still. 

“Means you're late.” He turned and strode off back to the others, clearly expecting you to follow him. You grit your teeth, momentarily tempted to just walk away. You didn't need a town. You were fine on your own. You could do it, keep on going on your own.

Except the empty windows and yawning doorframes of this town reminded you how hard it was to come across supplies. 

So you grit your teeth and followed him, footsteps light. 

You stepped directly in one of his boot prints, out of curiosity. His feet were much larger than yours. 

You walked a little faster. Just in case. 

Hat guy eyed you and nodded once. “We're taking the truck back,” he said. “You're in back.” 

You almost wanted to object to that, mildly outraged, but, well… all four of these guys was pretty big, in the beefy military esque kind of way. They probably needed the space. 

Still. Jerk. 

“So you're the mechanic, eh? I'm Gaz.” He held out a hand to you, and it took you a moment to remember what a handshake was. 

“Call me Soap.” He was next, quick to fall in on your other side so he and Gaz escorted you to the car. “Ye good with cars?”

“Dunno, you good with that thing?” You nodded to the big gun slung over his shoulder. 

He laughed, grinning at you. “Aye,” he confirmed. “Ye'll do just fine. In ye go.” He opened the back seat to the car you'd almost looted yesterday, ushering you in. Gaz slipped around the other side. 

Not only were they making you sit in the back, but in the middle. It had been a solid year since you'd been on a car, but you remembered how awful it was to sit in the middle seat. 

The only big plus was that the big unfriendly guy was in the front. 

“That's Price,” Gaz told you. “And Ghost.” 

So the big mean guy was Ghost. Easier to avoid him when you knew his name. 

“I'd say nice to meet you but I generally don't say that to people who almost dislocate my shoulder,” you snarked. 

“Shouldn't have messed with the car.” Ghost didn't sound the least bit apologetic. Not that you expected him to. 

Big asshole, for sure. 

“Ye traveled a lot?” Soap interrupted, breaking Some of the tension. 

“Eh. As needed.” You shrugged, uncomfortable as your shoulders rubbed his and Gaz's. “More than I really wanted to. Hard to stay in one place with cannibals around.” 

“Cannibals? Really?” Gaz sounded mildly dubious. 

“Really. Not like food is aplenty out there. Lots of canned goods are gone.” 

“We grow a lot,” Gaz said, glancing at you. 

“Not us,” Soap added with a cheeky grin. “Cannae grow shite, us. But the rest of the town, aye. Got a good lot of skills between us all.” 

“But not a mechanic,” Price interjected. 

“Least I'll have job security,” you joked, leaning back in your seat, refusing to show how uncomfortable you really were with the two men pressed close like this. “At least until everything quits working.” 

“We'll find work for ye,” Soap assured you, grinning. “Plenty to go ‘round.” 

That was not as reassuring as he intended it to be, but you didn't say so. That would just be fucking stupid, and you liked to think you weren't fucking stupid. 

“How'd you end up here?” Gaz asked, expression open, hands relaxed in his lap. Oh, he was good. Could've gone into acting, this one. 

Sure, he was acting all nice, but that was absolutely an interrogation question. 

At least he was being nice, and not threatening to break anything. 

So you told him. The short version. How you'd traveled for a bit with people, ran into cannibals, escaped with your life, and had been running from zombies ever since. 

The end of the world had made most people absolutely bonkers.

All in all, it was a pretty gentle questioning. And you couldn't blame them, not if they really were taking you to a whole town full of people. 

Price finally parked the car about mid-afternoon, and you got out gingerly, stiff from sitting still for so long. You stretched out, groaning softly as your shoulders and upper back popped. 

Ghost stood to one side, watching you. You ignored him, even as you noted yet again just how fucking big he was.

Price invited you inside, leading the way to the house. It looked well kept, at least, windows all intact, a pile of wood just visible to one side. You stepped up into the house, not sure what to expect.

The mouth-watering smell of bread and some kind of stew was not it. 

You swallowed back the obscene sound you wanted to make at just the smell of real cooked food, and wandered further in. A woman in the kitchen turned to greet everyone, smile wide and warm. 

You hadn't seen anywhere so homey, so warm, since… Well. Before the zombies, for sure.

It rather astounded you how fast they folded you into the routine, showing you where to wash up, offering spare clothes, assigning you a seat at the table. Truth be told, it left you a little wrong footed, and you kept quiet through dinner. 

So did Ghost. 

Ghost was the one that showed you to the couch, told you you'd be staying there a few days. You didn't object, still too full and happy from a hot meal. 

If they ended up being cannibals… Well, you'd die full. That wouldn't be so terrible.

[doydoune]

Hazakura Temple, February

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

1.7k / 21 / soap soulmate au, part 2

...

Unfortunately, Ghost finds you before Soap does.

Ghost yanks you by the elbow, cuffs around your wrists, dragging you to an unmarked military vehicle, pistol in hand.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask him.

He shoves you into the back seat and slams the door, gets in on the other side and starts the car up. You right yourself, having been shoved hard enough for your ribs to bounce off the leather seats.

He answers without looking at you. "The base." Curt, cold, and pissed. He drops the gun barrel-down into the cup holder.

"We just left the base."

"Huh. So we did." He keeps his eyes on the road. "Ain't that funny."

There’s a chance he’s not 141. As if there’s some other brick shithouse of a man who wears a skull balaclava around.

You shift in your seat. "What do you want from me?"

“Nothin' that'll feel good, I can tell ya that." He rests his elbow on the center console. “We’re gonna have a long talk."

"And then what?"

“Dunno. Maybe a bullet. Depends on how much you piss me off. Got a lot of questions to ask you first.”

Great.

You look around. This isn’t a police vehicle. Barely a military vehicle. There’s no barrier between you and that gun in the front seat cupholder. But you’re not an idiot. He knows you won't go for it, too, but he wants you to try.

You lean back, looking out the window at your side. "You can still turn yourself in. You don’t need to resort to hostages.”

“I made my choice. Not a difficult choice, considering how corrupt Shadow Company is."

“Orders are orders.”

“You always follow orders to arrest your friends, no questions asked?”

“When there’s good reason to.”

"Good reason, my ass. You're just a mindless dog, doing whatever Graves says. You think he'll protect you from the consequences of his actions? He'll toss you to the wolves in a heartbeat if it means saving his own sorry ass."

"That's not true."

"It's the mercenary way, innit. Sell yourself to the highest bidder and tell yourself orders are orders."

You brace one boot on the other, slowly working one foot free from inside. "Military’s the same. Only difference between us is you're salaried."

“I fight for a cause. Can’t say the same for your line of work. All you know how to do is gun targets down for cash and a little approval from your boss. Pathetic.”

Your heel slides loose. “No cause is clean. You can’t tell me you’ve never seen corruption in your line of work. Or a bad call. Or an unnecessary death.”

He grips the wheel, glaring at you in the mirror. “Doesn’t make it right. Sure as hell doesn’t mean you turn a blind eye to goddamn betrayal in your own ranks.”

“Some bureaucrat in a suit fumbling the bag and trying to right wrongs doesn’t make us corrupt. Graves knows what he’s doing—"

"So you knew."

Your jaw snaps closed mid-sentence. Shit.

He's staring right at you in the rearview mirror, eyes so cold they could freeze the breath in your lungs. "You knew about Shepherd. Didn't you?"

You swallow, looking away from the mirror and out the window. Your left foot finally comes free, and you shift subtly to brace your heel on your right boot, beginning to work your right foot loose next. "Doesn't matter."

“You followed orders to turn on your own allies, knowing they came from Shepherd. Knowing all he cares about is covering his own mistakes." He grips and re-grips the wheel slowly, as if he's thinking hard about picking up that handgun and ending your life in a ditch somewhere. "Welcomed us into a slaughterhouse for a fistful of cash. Bet you sleep real easy at night."

You trust Graves. He’s never steered you wrong. You were doing the right thing by following orders. That mantra is stuck in your throat. You want it to be true, but then there’s Johnny.

Ghost hasn't mentioned him by name. The Shadows never found him—he got away—but you don't dare let yourself think about the implications of him being alive and knowing about you. You put it out of your mind as soon as the thought surfaces, even. You made a deal with yourself that you'd never dwell on it again. Much less ask his very hostile squadmate about it. You’re not about to offer your arteries up to a butcher.

"Shepherd is in your chain of command, too."

"Not anymore. You and yours made sure of that."

"You didn't have to defect. Commander Graves asked you to come quietly. You would've been fine. You didn't do anything wrong, right?” You hear an edge in your tone and blunt it back down. "You didn't have anything to hide. But you turned it into a firefight."

"You realize you’re defending the bastard that sold out me and my team. You think I'd lay down, let him put us in some jail cell to rot for the rest of our days? I've seen too many people follow orders, trusting that everyone above them has their best interests at heart. Seen more than a few of them get punished at the hands of men like Shepherd. I'm not giving him another chance to betray me.” You still feel his eyes on you in the mirror, but you don't look. "You never once stopped and questioned what you were told to do? Or did it not matter because your loyalty was to your company, not the right thing?" His voice is flat. "That's the difference between me and you. I don't look for excuses to feel better about my actions. And I damn sure don't turn my gun on my allies.”

Your stomach curls with discomfort. "You had a choice. You knew how this would end for you."

"Rather be a wanted criminal for the right reasons than a gun being pointed at whoever Shepherd wants dead. And wouldn't you know it--I'm in damn good company, too. Turns out sticking to a moral code earns you a little more loyalty than payin’ cash. But you want to know what the best part of being a criminal is?" He taps out an odd little tune on the wheel, but there’s nothing warm or cute about it. The loaded gun would be friendlier to contend with. “I don’t have to follow Shepherd’s orders. I’m free to deal with this little problem as I see fit, and no one can tell me I’m wrong. If I kill some mercenaries who would arrest me on sight, that's just the unfortunate collateral damage that comes with my newfound freedom and your buddies following orders."

You consider that for a long moment. “So when do you plan to kill me?”

"Depends on whether or not I like what I hear in the next couple of hours. Might change my mind in that time. Might not." He takes his hand off the steering wheel to lean back a little. The road is empty, stretching long into the horizon. "The more I hear you talk, the more I feel like shooting you just for the sake of it. But I've got too many questions for that, so..." He lets the implied you live for now hang in the air, then taps the wheel again. "We'll see how the rest of this convo goes."

You manage to slide your right heel free. You glance up to see him looking at you in the mirror again. Your heart skips. You think he's caught you. But he doesn't say anything, and you realize he's just examining you, mulling something over.

“I don’t know what you think I can tell you, but I don’t know anything,” you say.

“Why don’t you just stay quiet and think about all that stuff you don’t know. Maybe we’ll starve you until you talk; maybe we’ll grease your palms. That’s how you operate, hm?”

He’s trying to make you angry, make you take the bait, but you don’t. You know what you are.

You keep both feet carefully lowered into your boots so as not to rouse suspicion. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you and your buddy got hurt.”

That seems to catch him off guard. He frowns. A beat passes where he doesn't say anything, just watches you. Not angry or suspicious, just... calculating. "Not worth much. And his name is Johnny. But you knew that, didn't you?"

You look away. Ghost's cell phone rings.

The sound pulls his attention away from you. He glances down at the display with a frown.

"On with Ghost." A short reply. "Yeah, I got her. About three hours out." He glances at you once as the person on the other line says something else, but after a few more seconds, you can tell he's more concerned with what they're saying than with you.

This is your chance.

With his eyes fixed on the road, you silently pull your cuffed arms under you, lifting your feet deftly through the loop of your arms.

You glance down at the gun one more time. He’s holding the phone with his left hand; driving with his right. Still, even with your hands in front of you, you’re cuffed. You won’t have a chance if you go for that gun and he gets it away from you. It won’t end well.

Plan B, then.

You push your feet back into your boots and slide yourself behind his seat.

"Hey!"

Drill Sergent voice. Busted.

He hits the brakes, drops his phone, and reaches for the pistol.

You slam your feet into the back of his seat, sending him crashing forward and trapping him between the seat and the wheel. The horn blares. The car jerks and runs off the road.

Cuffed hands in front of you, you throw your weight against the driver's side door and grab the handle. He reacts, but not quick enough, his gloved hand snatching at the space where yours were a second after you get the door open.

You dive outside, crash to the ground, roll ungracefully away from the back wheels as they roar past, and use the momentum to get back to your feet. The car keeps rolling, driver's side door still open. It's still moving fast, and you landed hard. That's going to hurt in a minute. Not yet, though.

You run.

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[alwaysshallow]

Just saw ur post w a higher rank reader and im in love!

Imagine getting to work with a higher rank/colonel reader who doesn’t bark out order and is always calm, friendly, yet professional.

Treats everyone on the team like an actual person and is very understanding. They get everything done on time or EARLY (like a 3 week mission took only 1 week) with zero backtracks.

Bonus if reader gives everyone a “break time” even if its in war zone lmao. But some how everything works out and ppl are working w max efficiency and min casualty.

“Team bravo pls retreat to point B and switch places w team delta and take ur 40 min brk pls ty ty💞🫰”

Ghost hearing it 1st time on the radio: “ESCUSE ME!!?! WOT!!???🤯”

!!!! years of experience told reader that nothing does better than good environment and she's more than determined to make her people not only efficient, but she's kinda like price? like, you know you can trust her and tell her shit you probably shouldn't, but her lips are sealed.

she also has many friends considering her years spent in military, so maybe it is easier to end missions on time/early, bc of her connections and being a manipulative bitch she can be if she wants something.

break time maybe not 40 minutes but like. 15-20, reader saying that they're supposed to take break, check their guns, check if there's anything they need before they will continue pushing forward. it's not because she's friendly, it's because she likes to work alone and check if there's any more danger than she already saw.

ghost is absolutely flabbergasted LMAOOOO and doesn't believe in shit like this so he follows up after reader. "tough time? we should take east route. we can move by the river" he'd say, seeing her in deep thought.

"i told you to take a break. it's disobedience to your colonel" she'd look at him, almost rolling her eyes

"it's not really a break, when you're thinking for all of us" and he gives her the look. "we're a team"

reader has a lot going on her mind and simon is the one to actually notice that between her playful nature and being all bubbly almost all the time. their bond grows stronger after this situation imo

[fairy-lights-and-blobs]

I have someone at like a story idea where Danny is like Princess Yue from Avatar last Airbender

Danny is the physical body for the ancient of space sometimes they just form in the infinite realms and get a physical body along with it and sometimes I just get an essence and have to wait till a body comes along to actually gain consciousness

Danny is that body but the idea is the Justice League is trying to make peace with the infinite realms and the council of ancients have decided let's do a deal we give you a the high Prince of the infinite rounds he stays with you for a month and if he comes back with good news of you humans we will not go to war with you

And the Justice League trying to keep peace agree they were not expecting to see a white hair teenager wearing a heavy layer traditional Komodo with a crown that has mini planets circling around his head to go along with the crown

And Frozen bits of Lazarus water floating around him to add to the exquisite that the boy carries himself with

Danny besides to base his personality off of Dora and princess Yue so no one can connect normal human Danny Fenton to High Prince Phantom Of The Infinite Realms Young Ancient Of Space

Also I just have to crack site of Danny looking at the Lazarus pits that the bats have in the cave because he's staying with them first and going it's a bit Rusty but I can work with it

Proceeding to use the Lazarus pits to make him a pair of pajamas or Danny acting like he doesn't know anything that much about the human world and it's just going along with most things

Danny Phantom acting like a Proper Prince from ancient times it doesn't understand modern teenage things just a mess with Justice League

The Justice League trying their best to appease to a teenager well also trying to stop the US government from starting a war that they will definitely not win

Oh boy, you had a real big brain time with this one :)

The Justice League had been tasked with temporary guardianship over Prince Phantom, Heir to the Throne of All, Steward of Stars.

Adored by the consciousness of the very Realm he will eventually rule over, it would fall upon Earth's best heroes to keep him safe for one entire month, and not a second less.

In exchange, loyal Halloween, also know as Fright Knight, and the King's armies wouldn't take action against Earth as a whole for the actions of one group falsely calling themselves government agents. "Let the Justice League actually deliver said Justice" had been the Prince's comment during a meeting of the Ancients. Before the Ancient Space had been through the cycle of rebirth this last time, there had been no heroes to protect the Living. Only their many divided leaders.

As Danny Fenton, they had caught whispers of the Bat on the rise, of a little Bird to follow after. Of a human, blessed by Hermes who always arrived on time. Of many, many more to follow, taking up arms to fight for Earth and her people, in defense of Justice. As Phantom, newborn half-ghost, and rising Ancient of Space, they heard of many departed souls that sang praises of the heroes, who forgave them for not making it in time, who were happy to have met their favorite before the embrace of Thanatos took them.

If this "Justice League" truly stood for Justice as they claimed, then Phantom would take a chance and trust them.

A week after the accord had been signed by the three leading members of the Justice League, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman, gathered in a meeting room to welcome the arriving Prince and his Council.

The first sign was the way the temperature dropped, followed by the sygils painted on the wall by Constantine and Zatanna lighting up toxic green. Bleeding inwards in a lazy spiral, the glowing light swirled into a spinning rift between dimensions, out of which walked Firght Knight himself, settling to the side of the portal, and standing at attention, ready for the rest of the Council to appear.

As the light from the portal became a pale, icy blue, a hand in a white, claw-tipped glove appeared from the portal, the hand's owner following after it, while the loyal Knight moved to bring his elbow up, so Prince Phantom could grab it and let himself be led out of the portal. The fact that the Prince's Fright Knight rested his free hand against his side, instead of the pommel of his sword, was a good indicator that they expected Phantom to be welcomed and safe here. They would do their best to ensure their trust was not unfounded.

Upon first glance, as the ghost of the hour floated out of the portal, the most attention would be paid to the Crown that sat on the teenage-looking ghost's head, all iridescent metal with little miniature planets orbiting each spike.

The Prince looked around the room, evaluating each of the three League members present, almost silent, if not for the way his long,almost elfin ears twitched, making the chains attached to them jingle pleasantly, little galaxies hanging from the metal and swirling lazily. A quietly howling star filled the silence, until Phantom turned to chirp at the portal, calling in the rest of the Council to step forth.

Not all of the Ancients gathered, this time. For the handoff, only those that Phantom named as family would be present. Frostbite, Pandora, Lady Dorathea and Clockwork.

Frostbite, the Yeti and Pandora, Guardian of Hope, the main caretakers, as his parents. Clockwork, one Brother of Space, now Mentor and Grandfather. Dorathea, Cousin and confidante, who insisted that Danny arrive in the best fashion to be found in his Lair. And through all his past turns of the cycle of rebirth, Danny had accumulated fashions uncountable, for his Fraid to enjoy.

Today, Dora had insisted to dress him up in a black kimono, specifically the one that faded from black, to dark blue into pale icy blue. Snowflakes slowly fell all across the length of the cloth, turning a formal piece of attire into a moving art show, as snow fell in lazy patterns with each step Danny took.

"Batman. Superman. Wonder Woman. Thank you for your kind offer of hospitality while I remain in this Realm." A furry hand on his shoulder led Phantom to sit in the closest chair, thumb nudging gently against a freckled cheek in silent support as the Yeti almost glowed with pride for his boy.

"It is nice to see you well, Prince Phantom." Wonder Woman took the lead, as was the usual when discussions between the three main Justice League heroes involved the more divine or supernatural aspects of the world. "We have some ideas for who will host you for the duration of your time here, and were hoping you might give your opinion."

The plan was for, at least initially, to have Batman host their guest. Both Clark and Diana knew the Dark Knight of Gotham would be a better fit for a Prince's stay.

Clark, with his irregular schedule as a reporter and his sons, and Diana with her work as a museum curator, were both too busy to host him. Bruce, on the other hand, would have the space needed, the free schedule needed to care for a teenage royal, and, most importantly, other teenagers already in his care, to help the current youngest of the Ancients acclimate to the modern Era, and specifically the Gotham lifestyle.

One signed contract later, and Danny floated in front of the Zeta tubes, feeling the rumble of working machinery, the humming of electricity which Danny knew deep in his bones and Core, would always recognize what killed him in this life while keeping his face as neutral as possible.

Right now, Danny was just Prince Phantom, Heir to the Throne and Rising Ancient of Space. Fenton could take a break from his crazy parents and their fixation on ghosts, and Jazz didnt need to spend her entire day worrying about him and smothering him in affection.

Highly advanced machinery was an interest because it was new, not because he wants to take it apart and see what makes it tick.

Thus, misdirection in place, Danny's Core studied the signals coming from the portal frame, and the rift just beyond, waiting to open.

"Your Highness, are you ready to go?" Ah, that would be Batman, standing at his side and watching him. He sounded...soft. The ghosts of Gotham always spoke of how soft Batman was towards children and, Ancient or not, right now Danny was, for all intents and purposes, a teenager.

A dead teenager, and that was bound to tug at the Bat's heart.

So, with a big smile, and big, curious eyes, Danny turned to face the Dark Knight and curtsied just as Dora had taught him to.

"I am indeed ready. I wonder what kind of home Gotham's favorite Knight lives in!"

"Before we leave, I should tell you, there will be others there. My children are a chaotic bunch, but they will be curious about you."

"Of course, no Bat is truly complete without his colony. You speak of them with pride. I will trust your judgement. So long as no one asks me how I died, or anything too personal, I won't take offense to being questioned by your children."

Stepping through the now active Zeta Tube set all of Danny's ectoplasmic nerves on end for a second, a slight feeling of too much settling in his bones at the difference between this and the portal that had brought him to the Watchtower.

Stepping out of the Zeta, Danny shook the pins and needles from his hands, blinked at the lighting change, and stepped into...a dark cave, full of very advanced tech that his inner Fenton pitched to get their hands on, and several small fluffy bats chittering above, watching the newcomer with judgemental eyes for a few seconds. Chirping a greeting at the gathering of eyes settled their agitation.

Clearly, good manners worked with Bats of all kinds.

"This way, Prince Phantom." Distracted by the Bats above, Danny had missed Batman ducking into a changing room and walking out as Bruce Wayne, Beloved Prince of Gotham, and all around Himbo Dad.

Mimicking Fright Knight previously, Bruce held his own arm up so Danny could hold onto it as he was guided to an elevator out of the Cave. He even pretended to stumble just slightly over the step out of the platform, looking around at the actually quite cozy but also really big office the elevator doors opened into.

"I thought people didn't live in castles anymore? Is the Knight of Gotham the exception?"

The eye roll and fond sigh had Danny cheering internally. The man DOES have a sense of humor! Not a fruit loop, after all!

Maybe this will be a fun little vacation.

Maybe, just maybe, Danny can hope that the GIW problem will be resolved, and he won't have to go to war against the Living...

Perched in the rafters above and spying on her dad and the pretty boy they'll be hosting, Cassandra Wayne almost stumbles at the sheer force of the sudden Hope-Glad-please don't be a dream that blankets the entire Wayne manor.

[soap-ify]

PUP!SOAP INFLUENCING PUP!READER TO BREAK THE RULES SK HE CAN WATCH THEM GET PUNISHED BY PRICE/GHOST SINCE HES JEALOUS SHES GETTING SM ATTENTION FROM HIM

screaming because your mind !!! soap is such a little shit. we love to see it.

very much a part of poly!141 au with owner!price and pups!reader, ghost, gaz and soap btw !!

cw 18+, alcohol, spanking, no real fucking just suggestive stuff here and there, very price x soap x reader focused.

soap tried to be nice, he really did.

it was just that you were swallowing everyone’s attention, especially price’s, leaving him all alone in the corner. feeling sickeningly neglected.

he knew he was being selfish, the attention he got from the other two pups and price never decreased. yet here he was, royal blue eyes glaring at the way ghost would let you nuzzle against his ears, or the way gaz would brush your tail ever so gently while you would happily give him ear scratches, or the way price would let you sleep on his lap.

why were you getting all the attention?

he was just a very greedy pup.

price had this one rule that all his four pups had to follow — never get drunk late at night if on the base. for the sake of attentiveness during trainings and missions.

it was a very simple rule that you had easily respected so far alongside the others. though soap was keen on changing that tonight.

“c’mere, lass. need yer help with something.” he pawed at you gently while you were sleeping on your bed, coaxing you awake, all confused and sleepy as he led you out of your quarters, both of you making sure to be quiet as you tiptoed your way behind him, eventually reaching his room.

confusion struck you when he handed you a bottle of bourbon, grabbing one for himself. “johnny, we aren’t supposed to drink…” you mumbled nervously.

“hush. ye will be fine. no one will find us, eh? s’our wee secret. plus i was really bored. needed company of a sweet bonnie like ye.” he assured you, a wolfish smirk adorning his lips, his words somehow easing your nerves since you trusted him.

minutes passed by as you drank the bourbon, getting more and more drunk, not even realising that soap hadn’t touched his bottle at all.

-

“i tried to stop them, but they weren’t listenin’ to me at all!” johnny huffed innocently, snuggling against price while the captain glared daggers at your hunched and nervous form, seated on the couch inside his office.

your bad hangover was too apparent throughout the training and price was clearly concerned for your wellbeing.

until soap spilled it all out, not mentioning how he was the one who told you to get drunk.

you whimpered and chewed on your bottom lip nervously, feeling betrayed and humiliated at the sergeant’s little snitching act, your tail tucked behind you nervously and ears hung low.

“c-captain, i didn’t mean to…” your weak voice fell to deaf ears as price stood up and walked over to you, settling down on the couch before harshly pulling you down onto his lap.

you whined sadly, face buried into his thick clothed thighs while you obediently pushed your ass up, his fingers roughly undoing your pants and pulling them down, leaving only your panties on you.

“such a fuckin’ bad pup. couldn’t even follow a simple rule.” he clicked his tongue in irritation, one hand holding your face down, fingers tightly laced with the strands of your hair while his other hand gently rubbed the soft flesh of your ass, callused fingers grazing against your skin before he delivered a harsh slap, not holding back at all.

a choked sob left your lips, eyes stinging with incoming tears as you sniffled and tried to not squirm, heat rising within your skin.

slap. slap. slap. you had mentally lost count on how many you got before he finally let go, roughened up hands gently rubbing your poor beaten up ass, panties all soaked and neglected.

you were a mess — lips wet with drool and cheeks all tear streaked, hair messy and sticking to your forehead while your glossy eyes distantly tried to look around, finally catching soap in the corner, a shit-eating grin plastered on his lips while having a visible boner, his eyes admiring the raging hand marks on your skin. soap was such a fucking bastard. what you didn't know was that he liked you better when you were a punished, sobbing mess.

price felt a bit guilty for being so mean despite you clearly having broken a rule, his hands slowly cupping your face and bringing you up, looking at the way you nervously hicced and cried, mumbling soft apologies over and over.

he couldn’t understand why you would break a rule. you were such a sweet pup! all new and sweet in the taskforce, everyone’s favourite.

but you were so dumb too, not complaining about soap at all, not wanting the other pup to get in danger.

-

once price did find out about soap’s little act (he never told anyone how), he made sure to give you extra special treatment the whole week while keeping the sergeant locked up.

ghost and gaz just watched from the sidelines, not feeling any remorse for soap. they would never mess with a cute pup like you anyways.

soap was a sad horny mess, thinking that at least ghost would sneak the pup out. but even his lieutenant was a meanie, and so was gaz — both visiting the cage and snickering at him the whole week while you got to be spoiled rotten by price.

[pinkchrissysposts]

°•*TIPS AND ADVICE FOR LOA AND VOID*•°

Guys i have come to decide that my time have come to an end in this amazing app tumblr I feel honoured to be a part of this beautiful community but before I go I would like to give some tips to everyone who.are still in their void/manifestation/shifting journey.

So as we know this is your journey to seize your power no one is gonna be there to help you except yourself. If you have been in this journey for a long time the only thing you are lacking is trust with yourself. Start building trust with yourself,it will become easier to persist. Consistency and persistence is needed of course but also trust within yourself.

I was also someone who struggled alot as a beginner for years but I slowly learned different things that are key to manifest/enter void/shift. Now don't ask what is the key because it has been mentioned in almost every loa post you read.

Follow your own style of manifesting,if you feel frustrated over methods then choose one which resonates with you,what matters is you feeling satisfied at the end.

Now this is for my a+ p girlies, I know I said it multiple times but don't affirm to get in 3D,affirm to make it your dominant thought,your goal should be making the affirmation your dominant thought that's it. It becomes thousand times easier because you also start to detach from the old story,your attention will be more on believing in that affirmation rather then seeing it in the 3D. Like this😤🤌

When we hear about horror stories,we don't see the ghost but we still believe it exist right? We start reaffirming unconscious like there is ghost in the kitchen stuff like that. (That was one shitty example ☠️💀)

I get a LOTS of ask about robotic affirming and saturation,guys it's simple they both quite similar. Well in robotic affirming you just have to chant it without really focusing on it as it saturate you and it's mostly helps with mental diet.

But during saturation try to be more focus on the affirmation,it like focus affirming.

Moving on to void,I will really recommend using the distraction method or zone out method they both are same nothing different. Also just read the masterlist from my old account @graychrissy it had mostly void post with my documented void journey. Also read rotten's shifting guide then use the gateway tape it is available in spotify too,it can be instant to reach the focus 10,but some may need practice but it's easy nothing overcomplicated just a hemi sync (Turing off left side of the brain).

Top method I recommend is affirming,SATS,FOCUS 10,DISTRACTION METHOD, LUCID DREAMING and THE BASIC WAY

NEVER BE AFRAID OF YOUR EMOTIONS,seriously it's something everyone dm me about it's really not important,your emotions are also 3D,it won't mess up your manifestation so just calm down.

Also since the link in master list aren't working I will make a new one,I will be changing the whole lay out of my blog then you guys can use it. Goodbye~~~~~~~;)

[ebonyheartnet]

Clockwork was powerful, but he was far from almighty. Some paths could not be altered, some worlds were beyond saving, but this…

As he picked up his grandson’s broken body, the child’s clock began to spin.

🦇

Ignoring the pendant around his neck for a moment, Bruce looked at the world frozen around him. The last thing he saw was that damned alley behind the movie theater, but now he was in the manor. As he tried to adjust, a hooded figure melted out of the too-bright walls.

“Your assumptions are correct, detective. This is the end, but I come bearing cold comfort.”

“Who are you?” Bruce asked, weary but ready to fight.

“Your friend Diana would call me Kronos, but your son, Daniel, once called me Clockwork, then grandpa,” said Clockwork. “You don’t have to trust me, but you’ve loved them both. I just want to cushion the blow.”

“Explain,” Bruce demanded.

“Very well, but let’s go to your family.”

Clockwork led the way down to the cave, and Bruce followed begrudgingly. Several of the bats were huddled around the computer, with a few getting ready to head out. The screens showed the energy from Bruce’s final jump, all the way in that damned alley.

“Are they safe like this?” Bruce asked.

”No,” said Clockwork, “but it will be painless. When I restart time, you’ll only have a minute to speak. That will not be enough to evacuate.”

“Why not give me the hope then?”

“Bruce, I have already done something incredibly cruel in the name of kindness. If I gave you anything else—if I lied that there was a way out—you would waste the gift.” Clockwork shrank down to a child. “Daniel will know what happened one day, and I don’t want his hatred to extend beyond a few centuries.”

“Wait, Danny will survive this?”

“And only Daniel can,” Clockwork confirmed. “Leaving will hurt, but only a new lifetime could begin to heal what he’d already suffered.”

Before he could ask, a portal opened to several screens, and he could feel his heart break as everything played out: Danny’s original world and his first parents’ betrayal. The way that both Drake twins would’ve been stillborn without the swap. The nuclear war when he killed Joker—

“I’m sorry that Darkseid’s pact with Nergal delayed your friends. The worlds without a laughing magician almost always face excessive magical interference.”

“Then why not place Danny somewhere safer to begin with?” Bruce growled. “Why hurt him like this when my son’s already been through so much!”

“A laughing magician cannot be anticipated by the divine, and I…” Clockwork aged into an old man. “Bruce, I was a terrible father, but my little warden has me wrapped around his finger. I couldn’t risk him being banished or bound in a deal before he could advocate for himself.”

Bruce wanted to hate him for it. He wanted to hate the paranoid logic that would break Danny’s heart again and again. He wanted to tell his son the truth and hold him through the tears. He wanted to soothe the hurt himself. He wanted to hide it so that Danny never felt the blow.

He wanted, like any good parent, to keep his son safe and happy.

“You and I are far too alike,” Clockwork said bitterly. “Thank you for loving him. Thank you for refusing to forgive me.”

“So what now?” Bruce asked.

“I’m taking everything Daniel needs to the new timeline. His records, his things, and even the few articles. He acted like a ghost in public, so we can just slip him in.”

“There will be gaps,” Bruce stated.

“I will help bridge them,” Clockwork promised.

“And he’ll know about us?”

“There is no timeline where I attempt to keep the truth from Daniel and avoid him devouring my core,” Clockwork said.

“That isn’t a yes.”

“Though I would not begrudge him his vengeance, such a thing would make Daniel hate himself.” Clockwork smirked as he matched Bruce’s age. “That counts more than my word.”

“And where is Danny?”

“He had a headache, so he’s fast asleep upstairs.” Clockwork’s gaze softened. “He’s going to wake up in a world where no one remembers him, but everyone he loves here is alive and well.”

“And you’ll show him this one day?”

“I promise. He will know as soon as it will not destroy him.”

Bruce took a shakey breath and walked until he was halfway between both groups. He hadn’t bothered dealing with the tears until now, but he wanted to see them. He wanted…

“Will any of us join him?” Bruce croaked.

Clockwork hesitated.

“Ectoplasmic ghosts form when the soul condenses under pressure. If I tell you the truth, either anguish or relief will damn you. I’m sorry.”

Bruce wanted to push, but just this once…

“Do it.”

[just-a-ghost00]

Who is your soulmate/twin flame? - Pick a Bangchan aesthetic edition

Twin flame is usually a term used to designate a specific type of soul bond/ soul contract between two individuals. They are sometimes refered to as « a single soul coming from the same egg » that got seperated before being incarnated. Each bearing different wounds, they navigate lifetimes to hopefully heal and reunite, becoming one again. Twin flames could be what you could say is Plato’s definition of soulmates. In modern times, the term soulmate refers to two distinct souls that have shared many lifetimes together and are meant to cross paths again in this lifetime to teach each other lessons and help each other resolve karma. Whether we are referring to one or another, both have in common a deep sense of love and connection. Whether you enquire about a twin flame or a soulmate, know that they aren’t necessarily a romantic partner. They could be of any gender. They might not be incarnated yet. They could be a child, an adult, a parent, a friend, a coworker. If you proceed with this reading, you should step in it with an open heart and mind. Take only what resonates and leave doubt at the gate. As you read, you may find that the person I’m describing sounds like you. That is because soulmates/TF tend to mirror one another. If it doesn’t feel like anything that makes sense to you, then maybe this reading held no messages for you today. Yours truly,

Just a ghost.

Group 1 - Rocky Chan🤘 Channeled song : BTBT from B.I feat Soulja boy & DeVita

Tarot : 8 of wands, Queen of swords, ace of swords, 9 of wands, 2 of cups, The Fool

Oracle cards : Ametrine - Make your big dreams your big life, Shiva Lingam - Go all in on your essence, 3 Dolphin - Socialize and celebrate life, play

Messages from Merlin :

Mandragora spell - Be the master of your beliefs : Your fears and anxiety are the product of your beliefs. Stop ruminating, for none of it is meant to happen. Your beliefs shape your reality so transform them to make them reflect your wishes and thus materialize them.

Red dragon & white dragon - Shed light onto your shadow : Shed light onto your inner conflicts. By accepting your mistakes and fears with humility, you’ll allow your trust and harmony to take back their rightful place in your realm. Don’t hesitate to apologize to and forgive yourself.

Whyvern spell - Choose consciously : Before you give in to temptation and follow a thought, a project or a person, take the time to learn more about them. Listen to your reason and intuition in order to avoid delusions. You can then peacefully envision what’s next.

Significant signs : Pisces, Gemini, Scorpio, Cancer, Sagittarius, numbers 8 1 9 2 0 3, letters F P A S L , colors like pastel pink / purple / ocean blue /red, dolphins, snakes, white dogs

Key words : idealist, hopeless romantic, Peter Pan syndrom, mommy issues, creative, connection, playfulness, emotional immaturity, soft hearted, touch starved, loyalty, inner child healing

This reading is going to be quite lengthy so bear with me. Grab a pen and a notebook if you wish. This person feels rather masculine. They are a soulmate of yours without a doubt. In terms of looks and general information, they have rather wavy hair and a lean body. They’re a swimmer or they enjoy any kind of activity related to water, like fishing or diving. They have tanned skin. They probably have kind of a surfer vibe. They live near an important body of water or they want to live near water. They likely have clear and shiny eyes, big doe eyes and kind of a lost puppy look. Their style feels pretty flowy and laid back. Probably casual most of the time. They feel gender fluid. They could identify as being bisexual. They are likely younger than you. If so, they are only a few years younger. You might want to check group 2 as well if you hesitated between the two groups. They could like painting as well, especially water coloring.

This person is a dreamer. Eternally dissatisfied with life, they long for more. They seek for thrilling and exhilarating sensations to make them feel alive. They are carefree, playful, innocent in many ways. It’s like they never had the time and space to really grow, to be a child with childlike occupations and worries. They had to grow up and be responsible too quickly too soon, probably because they were the eldest of their siblings or because they had to take care of an ill relative. They are an idealist. They tend to be very harsh on themselves, they struggle with the feeling of being good enough. They are the people pleaser, the mom friend, the psychologist, the cutie bestie of the group that gives so much but only gets so little in return and would never say a thing about it because they think they don’t deserve to demand anything. They are the social butterfly, the « I have so many friends » that they barely know type. They crave attention, they crave love. They love the idea of love. They are often in their little bubble, wishfully thinking about life and people. They are probably the type that wonders where in the world their soulmate is and WTF they are doing. They idealize love. Probably because they’ve never really been in love. They are incredibly intuitive and sensitive, caring and lovable. They like to make people feel good, to show love through acts of service and affirmations. They are all over the place. They are so excited by life and what it has to offer. They are an over thinker. They are pretty communicative. Though they are innocent and naive, they know pretty well what they want. They don’t hesitate to cut people off when needed. They have a lot of responsibilities on their shoulders. The concept of love and being in relationships is pretty new to them. They lack experience in the matters of the heart. They are a wanderer. They like to travel and explore places but also mindsets and people. This person has the potential to astral travel. They have very vivid dreams and nightmares. Intimacy scares the shit out of them but they crave it just as much as they dread it. This person wants to have children. They love children, love the idea of a big family. Since this person is so creative and dreamy and they have the Play card, they could very well be an artist or someone that has a meaningful presence online. They work in the entertainment industry in some way, shape or form. They tend to burn themselves out. They lack patience sometimes. They might struggle with ADHD or any other form of neurodivergence. They could be on the spectrum. This person’s purpose in life is to bring healing by alleviating the weight of other souls. Hence the entertainment thing. They are meant to distract people from their struggles and shadows so that they can appreciate their existence to a bare minimum and breathe a little. They could enjoy working with kids specifically. Being a teacher or a social worker could also be a thing they are into. They like to share and evolve in groups. Because they struggle with finding a sense of belonging. They feel sometimes like they are not from this earth and something more awaits them. Especially if they are on the spectrums (LGBTQIA+, Autism and so on). It can be hard for them to relate to other people or read the atmosphere in social settings. Being the comic relief of the group helps them deal with the stress that generates. They often wear masks to be liked by other people which gets pretty tiring. Hence they have no energy left to tend to themselves which is why they look for connections where they can rely on their partner without asking for or worrying about anything. They like to be pampered and praised, especially in bed.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Group 2 - Smiley Chan 😄

Channeled song : You can’t hold my heart from Monsta X Significant signs : Scorpio, Leo, Sagittarius, Gemini, Libra, Taurus, letters S L J P B K, snakes, ravens, numbers 37 19 9 6 11, colors like pastel green / sandy grey / soft blues

Tarot cards : Queen of wands, The Sun, 9 of wands, The Lovers, Page of swords, Justice Oracle cards : The Pillar, 37 Candy Basslet rx - Know your worth, Shungite - Get real with your truth, Bloodstone - Power up your vitals

Messages from Merlin The Wizard :

The 9 Guardians of Avalon - Ask and you shall receive : They guard the order of all things. They ensure the threads of fate twist and twine as they should and at the right time. Be sincere about what you wish for and they shall answer in their own way. Pay attention!

Guinevra Queen of Arthur - There is no King without a Queen : you need the qualities of both masculine and feminine. Combine your thinking with your sensitivity and creativity to your decision making skills and influence. It is within this fair and balanced union that fruitful projects can be birthed.

Tuatha Dé Danann - Message from the silent people : We became Sidhes, people from the underground of the earth we seek to protect. Faes and divine beings, our magic is powerful. Come meet us in the forest, by a lake or a river. Seek our help in the form of a simple prayer and we shall know how to comfort you.

Key words : daddy issues, ambition, balance, communication, spirituality, intensity, depth, grounding, self confidence, self worth, anger issues

There is a lot to cover here and this is going to be a lengthy reading so bear with me. Feel free to take notes, make your own research if you feel called to especially when it comes to the crystals mentioned. So first of all, I want to say that this person’s energy feels like it’s currently in it’s feminine era. Though this person is very balanced in general they are indulging more into their feminine side. They could have long hair and rather tanned skin. They like going outdoors, bathing into the sun, going for walks or running. They are athletic and pretty active. The reason I am saying this is because all of the tarot cards we have here are illustrated with very feminine characters. Now this person is very much owning their power and doing their best to unapologetically be themselves. In the past, they struggled with their body image and sense of self but it seems like they are coming to terms with that. They have strong boundaries and there’s a depth to them that could really trigger/scare people, including you. This person has been through so much they can’t be bothered anymore. They don’t have time for mind games, petty lies and arguments. They want to be treated with respect and are willing to do the same so long as you don’t cross them. They are very much down to earth and simple in their functioning : all or nothing type of mentality, be good to me and I’ll be great to you, stab me and I’ll bring hell upon your head. They don’t forgive and forget easily and could hold grudges. This person values honesty, fairness, integrity. They have a strong moral compass and look for people who can match their intensity. They are cerebral. They like to think, to imagine, to create. They have the energy and mentality of a leader, a pioneer, someone that people look up to because they pave the way in a very unique manner. This person really stands out from the crowds. They tend to burden and pressure themselves because they hold themselves in high regard. This is due to their upbringing. They were raised to be the man of the house, regardless of their gender. I have a gut feeling they could identify themselves as genderfluid. They value love and connections, loyalty and compassion. They give their all in relationships and are very protective of the people they love. They are very sensual, kinky even. This person is likely to be a potential romantic partner, whether you know them already or not. They are definitely not a child, though they can sometimes harbor the energy of one. They are bratty and stubborn AF. They get under people’s skin easily whether for good or bad reasons. They elicit strong reactions from people because their vibrations are beyond anything people can fathom.

Sometimes they overextend themselves. They like to give and be of help to others. People tend to feed off of their light like leeches. They could attract a lot of narcissistic people, naysayers and haters just by breathing. This person’s job in this lifetime is solely to trigger people and shake their dusty and sterile belief systems. Which is probably what they’re also meant to do in your life. Honestly, this feels like a twin flame connection. If you were ever wondering if you had one, now I guess you know. If we get more detailed about their looks and general information about them, I’d say they’re pretty curvy. They kinda set the usual standards of beauty off. This person was never meant to fit into a box. They’re their own goddam category. Very very strong energy here. They’re the type of person that maybe wouldn’t match the traditional beautiful/pretty girl/boy stereotype but instead would look magnificent because of what they radiate. Their morals and ideals are their beauty. They’re beautiful because of the way they think, the way they treat people with equity, the way they are deep down when no one is looking. They have unconventional interests or an unconventional way of going about common interests. Their eyes could be what draws you in. Other than that, their voice can be pretty addictive. Their whole being is addictive actually. They are likely to be a foreigner or someone that was raised with a different culture than yours. This person likes to play with their appearance and the way they present themselves. Their fashion style can vary depending on their mood.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Group 3 - Dreamy Chan Channeled song : My Oasis from Sam Smith feat Burna Boy

Tarot cards : 5 of pentacles rx, knight of pentacles, 2 of cups, 6 of pentacles, 7 of pentacles, king of cups Oracle cards : Ascension, Labradorite - Protect your magic, Pyrite - call on your core power, 15 Clownfish spirit - Protect your home, 43 Koi fish spirit - Just for fun

Possible signs : Pisces, Taurus, Scorpio, colors like soft greens and yellows, baby blue, cows and bulls, white dogs, letters A L P K C

Messages from Merlin The Wizard :

Mordred's betrayals - Don't let anger be your master : your anger isn't a good advisor. Shout, write, dance, talk about your suffering to let go of it but don't let it dictate the next chapter of your story. Whatever struggles you face, stay calm, transmute your anger and then you shall know how to deal with it and find solutions.

Merlin crazy in love - What are you ready to let go of? : To choose is to sacrifice realities that could have been. With each decision, you create your story by giving up on other possibilities. If you are wondering what to do, ask yourself what you would like to experience and what you are ready to let go of in order to get there.

Shadow magic - Transmute fear into strength : It is there, lingering in the shadows. Your fear. It doesn't know how much of a strength in can be instead of weakness. Understand your fear and challenge yourself to be stronger than it. Use it as a fuel to improve and have twice as many reasons to be proud of yourself.

Key words : caring, friends to lovers trope, morning calls and text, feeling lost and helpless, laidback, no strings attached, humanitarian work, anger issues, trust issues

This person is a soulmate of yours. They feel both masculine and femine. Their energy is pretty balanced and comforting. They are likely older than you. They have a look and a body type that's pretty common. Not too fit but not that bad either. They kinda blend in the crowd. You wouldn't notice them unless they wanted you to. They likely have long brown/black hair and tanned skin. But that's just a detail. I heard their appearance doesn't matter, they focus more on the soul. They think they're not pretty is what it is about. They are prettier than they think. But more than anything, they want to be known and loved for who they are deep in their core. When it comes to jobs or interests, this person could do something that inspires people. This is very general and can match a lot of jobs and activities. They like to raise awareness and learn from other people, so humanitarian work seems relevant. Artist could also be a possibility. This person is appreciated in their community for their strong values, their gentle side and work ethic. They never judge anyone or look down on people. They are very giving and patient, understanding. They know what it's like to be afraid or struggle. They've known pain on so many levels that at this point they have a black belt in life struggles. I feel like they want to protect people from the shitty sides of life. They want to help people avoid going through the struggles they faced when they were young. Like, let's say this person is queer and had a very hard time being themselves without facing backlash from other people, now that they've come so far they want to advocate for queer rights and help people that may be going through the same experience. Or if this person was abused, now that they've done their healing they want to help victims of abuse. This person has a lot of empathy and understanding of human condition. They are pretty down to earth and realistic. They like routines and patterns. They either work a nine to five or if they don't, they make sure they always do the same things : get their coffee first, set their equipment and tools, check their emails and notifications then get to work. Get a coffee on their way back, wash when they're home, check their mails again, work some more, overthink. Repeat. They strive for more. They long for more than the life they're experiencing right now. They're going through an awakening. This person had been neglecting the spiritual realm. They were only focusing on the material aspects of life. Concepts of souls or connections that went beyond distance and matter didn't resonate with them up until now. They recently had to let go of something that was important to them. Their life has been filled with sacrifice. This person would let opportunities pass, out of humility or out of love for others. They would put other people's needs first, no matter how much pain they were in. But the scales tipped when someone betrayed them or something felt very unfair to them. Like they were screwed over. This person lost confidence because of this and went through a very dark time in their life. They have struggled with depression and anxiety. They've had health issues, their abundance was affected by this situation. They could have lost a lot of money or important business partners, for instance. They could have lost their job or home or even their family. This person is now at a place in their life where they're back on track. They've worked on themselves, fought to regain control over their life and create a reality they could be proud of. Their finances are going well, they somewhat feel fulfilled but in the back of their mind it's like something's missing. They long for connection and attention. Something genuine and light hearted. I think this person has started to date. Or at least, they're open to the idea.

[swifty-fox]

honesty - muse a wipes muse b’s tears away from under their eyes 🥺❤️

inspired by this gifset

writing music writing music

accidentally wrote like 1.5k sorry

The loud part of them all being in the Stalag is that Bucky Egan is losing his mind. He's playing baseball with ghosts and lounging around like a man waiting to die or to kill.

The quiet part is that Buck Cleven is not doing much better. He's dropping pounds like a wrestler trying to make weight, face growing tighter and tighter as every day passes, expression drawn cold over his skull that more and more showed off its delicate structure. Never a man of many words, he spoke to John little and the men less unless it was to give orders or encouragement.

Anything that wasn't Major Buck Cleven seemed to be scraped out of him by cold and hunger and sheer desperation.

It's fine, Bucky assured the guys whenever someone mustered the courage to approach him with their concerns, Buck's tough. It's just the cold.

It's just the hunger.

It's just this damned place.

Trust your Majors boys, you know we won't let you down.

Buck's still holding him up more than the other way around, John's man enough to admit that even in his cloudy mind. He knows he's a burden more than a help, sharp and angry and frustrated and bleeding all over the place with a caged animal's need to do something.

John Egan would rather die than spend much longer in here. It's the truth of the matter, it really is.

The realization had hit Buck like a slap to the cheek, John had seen it spread across his face in quiet understanding as they talked. He wanted to apologize, the words on the tip of his tongue. But what would it help? It wouldn't erase the truth of the matter. They weren't naive enough for band-aids.

Bucky knows he's hurtling towards some kind of precipe, he's behind the wheel after all. But Gale's strolling hot on his heels in the same direction. That's the secret of the matter, how similar they were underneath the outward differences. Cut from the same reckless wild cloth.

It's dinner when Buck finally breaks, picking at another watery soup of turnips and potatoes. Hambone had managed to hackle for a chunk of salt, so there was some hint of flavor besides stale vegetable, but Buck picks away at it anyways for several long moments before flinging his spoon down and stalking out of the bunkhouse.

Silence reigns in his wake, nobody quite sure what to do or say in the face of an outburst more suited to Bucky than Buck.

Gale Cleven didn't show his temper, he didn't storm out of a room or turn aside food he encouraged his men to eat with steadfast fervor. They needed the calories. They could be marching any day. They owed it to everyone back home to keep their strength up. This is, Buck Cleven swore, only a temporary sort of suffering.

"It's fine," Bucky tells the assembled men, Brady's pinched frown of concern and Crank's open-faced sadness, "He's fine. Finish your meals I've got him."

"It's going to be curfew soon, Major," Benny says from his spot next to Brady.

"I've got him," John repeats sternly.

There's quiet doubt in their eyes, a touch of nerves that never used to exist following Bucky's orders.

He tries not to think about it.

Night is settling over the camp, bitingly cold and John hisses as ice-filled wind stings his face, turning his cheeks raw in the seconds it takes him to tug his scarf up over his nose. There's precious few milling around; guards with their dogs and men desperate enough for clear air to enjoy their cigarettes, but John can make out fresh tracks in the snow leading to the camp library.

With one last glance at the guards, who eye him warily but make no threats, he shoves his hands in his pockets and steps in every one of Gale's footprints on his way to follow.

He's near frozen by the time he makes the short walk, closing the rickety door behind him and biting his cheek against shivers. For a moment he thinks he's guessed wrong, the chairs round the makeshift table are empty and the bookshelves undisturbed, before spotting a tangle of dirty pale hair slumped against the far wall.

Gale was on the floor, arms crossed over his knees and eyes staring straight ahead unseeingly. Though he was silent, his chest rose and feel rapidly with the force of his breathing. Not a panic attack, but a cornered predator knowing its time was near.

"Buck," John says softly, stepping around the table and settling onto his haunches until they were eye level, "Hey, Buck you with me?"

Gale blinks a couple times, eyes clear but horribly red-rimmed, making the blue of them that much more vibrant and meets John's gaze. His expression is so torn open, so mournful; plus lips turned downwards, cheeks slack with grief, brows pulled together into a furrow, that even John who know this man's body better than his own feels like he's intruding.

"I'm fucking tired, John" Gale rasps, and somehow the cursing is less shocking than Gale Cleven admitting to being less than fine, "We're all dying, you're dying and I've got no idea how to fix it."

While John is still filtering through his shock, trying to find the words, Buck seems to fold in on himself further, sink into his coat like a child trying on his father's clothes and cuts out a laugh that sounds more like a gag.

Makes that awful laughing sound again, then chokes, pressing his knuckles to his mouth and then vicing the other hand over his fist until blood wells up from the clutch of his nails. Lets out a third choking noise, fine trembles wracking his body and John's reaching for him in panic when he realizes it's not some sort of fit.

Gale Cleven is crying.

Eyes welling and spilling over, face screwing up and hands pressing to his mouth as if this entire episode is out of his control, a complete rebellion of his body. He keens, as if in pain and hunches over as another sob wracks through his wasted frame. And another.

Gale Cleven is crying like a child, huddled on the floor of a dirty half-assed library in a prison camp and John is so goddamn helpless he's furious with it. He reaches out to pull Gale towards him but the other man jerks away, elbow coming up defensively so John settles for squeezing a hand over his knee, thumb rubbing across the dirty fabric. He knows Gale isn't rejecting his comfort, not really, just that being coddled will break him worse, break him in ways he might not be able to put back together.

"It's okay, Buck," John says softly, settling down onto the floor in a mirror poser of Gale's position, ankle pressed to thigh, "Just you and me here, nobody else."

There's nothing to do but bear witness to the other man's pain, crying like it hurt him to do so. John wants to tell him to just breathe, to allow it to happen, he wasn't any less for it. But John remains quiet, holds Gale up not through physical pain but silent vigil.

When the sobs -awful, wracking, hideous fucking choking sobs - finally taper off, John slides forward onto his knees and cups his hands on either side of Gale's face, thumbs swiping under his clumped eyelashes to rub away the salty wet film of tears. For a moment Gale looks like he wants to protest, but then he slumps, making another quiet painful noise and pants through his next words.

"Don't ask me if I'm with you, if you're not with me," he gasps out, chest rattling with the force of his emotion.

It might as well have been a knife between the ribs, John's hands freezing on Gale's face. His blue eyes flicker with regret before he closes them, head thumping back against the wall.

"I'm sorry," he rasps out, "I'm sorry that's not fair-"

"No, it's really fucking fair, actually," John says quietly.

When was the last time they'd been together like this? When had they last touched each other in a way that wasn't the embrace of comrades? They loved each other, there wasn't doubt there. But how long had it been since John and Gale had been able to be anything but their rank?

Pressing forward, leaning into the barely warm cling of Gale's body, John presses his lips to the stumbled curve of Gale's cheek. The skin so thin and delicate he worries it might split and bruise under his touch, presses a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, over his earlobe, in the hidden shadow between his clothes and body.

"I'm with you," John says softly, against the hair around his neck, "I swear Gale, I'm with you."

Long fingers come up to grasp at the back of John's coat, tangle through his hair under his cap and tugs him forward until they're pressed together heartbeat to heartbeat. They don't have long before they need to be back in the bunkhouse, minutes if even that. But it can wait, it can wait until they hold each other for a few more minutes.

[booksandabeer]

Steve-Centric Stucky Fics: 5 Recs + 1 TBR

As promised, here is the rec list for Steve/Bucky fics with a focus on Steve-centric stories—all of them not EG-compliant, as requested. It's not quite as long as my usual rec lists for two reasons:

(1) I'm still sick and I can barely sit up straight, so please forgive the brevity of the list, and

(2) I deliberately wanted to include exclusively fics that were written in 2022 and 2023 to shine a spotlight on a few of the many wonderful writers and artists who are still creating absolutely fantastic works for the Stucky ship and who deserve to be read just as widely and passionately as older works in the fandom. Recency bias, but make it positive!

So without further ado, here are five Steve-centric Stucky recs and one more fic that I can't wait to get to:

1. say it soft and it's almost like praying by Somanywords | 41K, M

Author's summary: Natasha says, “Look, whatever the truth is about you, we have no way of really knowing the Winter Soldier's intentions. He’s not all there, he’s not who you remember. He’s a hot mess, Steve.”

“Why does everyone think that?” Steve says, and he’s nearly yelling, but not quite, because he doesn’t need to, not when they’re so close. “Why does everyone keep saying he’s a mess—have you seen me?" 

Post-CA:TWS canon divergent. I literally finished this fic about 15 minutes ago, so I haven't even left a comment yet. I'm still processing, you could say. The author tagged this with "just another post catws fic (but by me)"—and yes, that's what you get. All the usual ingredients are here, but the joy of TWS canon divergence is of course in the endless possibilities of how these well-known ingredients are used, re-arranged, and re-imagined as something new, exciting, and often much more satisfying than in canon. This fic excels at all three and is an absolute joy from start to finish.

2. Daybreak by BonkyBornes, art by PottersPink | 9K, NR

Author's summary: They called it project Rebirth because the person was supposed to be reborn, like a phoenix from the ashes. Steve was supposed to be the phoenix. He was supposed to rise from the ashes of his old body, he was supposed to leave behind his deafness and his limp and the scoliosis that bent his entire body to the left. He was supposed to leave behind everything that held him back.

In the end, the only thing that left was the only thing that mattered.

Shrinkyclinks canon-divergent AU. What if Project Rebirth didn't go right...but it didn't go entirely wrong either? A story about ghosts but not a ghost story. Or maybe something else entirely? Steve fights his body and time and the memories that keep haunting him. Beautifully written, with gorgeous art by PottersPink that perfectly complements the story.

3. Exhale by seapigeon, art by dudewhereismypie | 15K, M

Author's summary: After the Chitauri invasion, Steve parts ways with SHIELD, unsure if he can trust an agency that tried to deceive him and built weapons from the Tesseract.

He finds himself alone in an unfamiliar future, penniless, not even legally alive. Fortunately, he knows how to survive. Steve Rogers is used to getting by on his own.

The thing is, he doesn't have to.

Shrunkyclunks. Post-Avengers canon divergent. A fic that asks the question: What if, after the battle of New York, Steve had told SHIELD a polite but firm 'No'? Follow him as he strikes out on his own, finds an apartment, a job, and friends, figures out life in the 21st century...and of course falls in love!

4. Preberseeschießen by Ginny_Potter | 6K, T

Author's summary: Bucky breathes out and shoots. The bullet hits water… and there it is, the zapping sound of paper tearing.

The light turns on and off three times. Third circle. Just a lick out of bullseye. The Howlies explode in cheers.

Or, the Howling Commandos play a shooting game with the Austrian Resistance and Steve has lots of unresolved feelings about himself, his new body, and his changing relationship with Bucky. In other words, comrades are comrades, angst looms, and Steve feels.

Wartime fic. Would you like to read some excellent gay angst full of yearning and unresolved tension, peppered with interesting and wonderfully specific historical details and Howlies camaraderie? Would you like to get your heart crushed a little? Yes? Here you go. And if this makes you feel too sad by the end of it and you crave a bit of a happier resolution, just jump straight into a fistfull of dollars (5K, E) by the same author, which is not intended as a companion piece or even set in the same universe, but it works just as if it were. (Look at me sneaking in extra recs.)

5. Not In The Answer But The Question by aimmyarrowshigh, art by PottersPink | 27K, T

Author's summary: It rankles that his drink was made before he even got a chance to order it. What if he wanted a change? What if he were adventurous and bold? What if he tried something new?

---

Or, Steve Rogers shakes up his gray daily routine in 2014 by going back home to Vinegar Hill. To his surprise, the Jewish deli he used to frequent with Arnie is still standing.

And Steve's whole life changes again.

Shrunkyclunks. Post-Avengers canon divergent. A lost and lonely Steve tries to figure out who he was, is and most importantly, wants to be in this new century he's found himself in that is both terrifying and full of possibilities. Told in vignettes (I did not count, but I believe all of them are exactly 100 word drabbles) that perfectly illustrate the fragmented mind and life of its protagonist and his experience of constantly shifting and adjusting between past and present. A story about identity, memory, self-acceptance, and finding the courage to love and let yourself be loved. And food. So much amazing food!

+ 1 TBR: Operation: Gros Michel by SquadOfCats | 358K, E

Author's summary: “It starts with bananas. Of course, it's not really about the bananas. Just like a camel isn't bothered by one single straw, just like a dam doesn't break because of one extra drop. Obviously, Steve's mental breakdown isn't about bananas.”

Steve is overwhelmed and hanging by a thread, doing his best to take care of Bucky while still deeply traumatized himself. He finally has a breakdown over the stupidest of things: bananas. So Bucky takes care of him.

In which Steve learns to surf, Bucky becomes a gardener, and they both begin to heal.

Post-CA:TWS canon divergent. No, I did not make a mistake, the word count for this story really does come in at an impressive (or intimidating, you decide) 358,225 words! Which is the only reason why I haven't read it yet. I do want to make time for this asap because the snippets I've read so far were very intriguing and everything I've heard about it from people who have finished it, sounds absolutely amazing. So, this is the wild card pick!

Happy reading! <3

[ghostsferalgremlin]

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY HEADCANONS

I had these headcanons in mind for a while now and i have no one to talk about cod so here we are.

................

• I picture him having pretty wild hair, not because he doesn't cut them or anything, but because he cuts them himself.

Not trusting anyone can lead you to ask people not to touch you, Simon defenitely doesn't want people touching him behind his back, where he can't see them, so he prefers to cut his own hair.

• If he is in a relationshin he would definitely seat on the wc while you take a bath.

He would follow you like a little golden retriever and sit there, he doens't mean any harm by it, he doesn't even think about you in an horny way or anything else, he just wants company and loves to hear you speaking while you take care of yourself, so he just sit and casually answer here and there when you ask him something.

● I don't think Simon perceive Ghost as something totally diffrent from Simon.

Having trauma makes you unable to "work correctly" in a kind of way, and Simon can't have himself have a panic attack or anything else in the field. I think Ghost is simply the more collect and calm part of himself and he knows it, Ghost is simply the part he uses when heneed stability and what Ghost rappresent is literally someone who has everything under control, always.

● He drinks, but not that much.

As i said before, he doesn't trust people, and being drunk means that you have to depends on other people to take care of you. He trusts the 141 tf, but he refuses to being in any kind of way in someone's hands, he has to be in control, always, so he has a specific number of drinks he can drink we does, after that is a big no.

● His music taste? Immaculate.

Let's be real here: he is traumatize and he goes by Ghost. Man definitely listen to metal and every single subgenre of it, he loves it and it's the only way he is sure he can still feel emotions outside of anger and fear.

• Not really a man whos love language is physical touch.

He touches you, he does, but his love language is quality time. He loves spending time with his loved one, speaking, cooking, listening to some music or just watching a movie, he love having someone, who he is in love with, around and listening to their voice.

• We are edgy here and we don't wear colors.

Man's whole wardrobe is black, camo, black. He has some things here and there cause people keeps buying it for his bdays, especialky Johnny, but he never wears them. He just look at them and goes: nope.

• Sweet tooth.

God this man LOVES sweet things, chocolate, candies, drinks, he wants them all. Once he found Gaz's secret storage and literally wiped it all, the poor man is still crying about it.

• He doesn't wear his mask to cover his scars.

As i said, he perceive Ghost as the obly part of him that can remains calm enough to do his job. The mask is something that helps him with this, once the mask is on he is not just Simon anymore, he is Ghost and he has everything under control. The scar story? Is just because he doesn't want to explain the truth to anyone.

• He has nighmares and pretty much refuses to sleep until he just pass out.

He is tired, he really is, but he forces himself to stay awake to avoid waking up amd feeling like he is just a step away from death, breathing is impossible to him when he wakes up like that and it leaves him feeling vulnerable for hours. He just prefers to let his body take control when taying awake is too much, this means he wont wake up, mostly.

................

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #33

MC: Eating chips with chopsticks is unironically Galaxy brain. Your fingers don’t get greasy and it lasts longer

Solomon: Fork

MC: Oh yeah I’m going to stab my crunchy foods and make them fall apart like an absolute absent minded dunce fool, clown, jester, like a monstrous moron, an idiot of Shakespearean proportions, a cretin

Diavolo: Uhm, you seem to forget that chips can also mean fries? And that’s probably what they were talking about haha

MC: I did not forget anything. I purposefully ignore the idea of using British vocabulary to do my part in helping it die out

•

Belphegor: An alarm clock except it’s set to every time

Leviathan: We touch

Solomon: I get

Diavolo: This feeling

•

Beelzebub: I was talking with my brothers yesterday and we decided the best way to own a guy who takes off his shirt to fight you is to pick his shirt up and put it on

Mammon: That might be one of the ultimate power moves

Simeon: Or pick it up and say “lift your arms up” and try to put it back on him

•

Leviathan: By day I appear to be no more than just an average run of the mill office worker, but when night time strikes! I’m crying alone in my bed

•

Solomon: I bought my friend an elephant for their room

They said “thank you”

I said “don’t mention it”

Mammon: Is there a joke here that everyone gets but I don’t?

Belphegor: Nobody tell them

•

Thirteen:

Them: why are you competing in our cooking show today?

Me: the government banned gladiatorial matches yet I yearn for glory in the arena

Solomon: I’m here to tell you gladiator matches are still a thing, pal

Thirteen: Hm. Interesting. The last time I tried to behead a man for prestige and the right to majesty, I was dragged out of the alleyway by three very unreasonable men of the law and I would like to know where you live

•

Diavolo: What do you call a snobbish criminal going down the stairs?

Lucifer: I don’t know. What?

Diavolo: A condescending con descending

Lucifer: Get out

MC: That was beautiful

•

Leviathan: Bitten by a radioactive cicada. Now all I do is sit in a tree and scream all day

•

Solomon: Self-care is slathering yourself in baby oil and sliding down the 7th lane in your local bowling alley so the mechanical pin setter will pick you up and take you to the forbidden place behind the bowling lanes where you can meet God but only on Tuesdays

•

Mammon: Security called me at work today and told me they saw me outside chasing a frog around on the security cameras. I wasn’t in trouble they just wanted to let me know they saw me, I didn’t catch him

•

Leviathan: Me wearing a blanket as a cloak, stirring my man’n’cheese in a dimly lit room: potion

•

Satan: When I say I’m “feral” it doesn’t always mean I’m angry, maybe I’m stupid and if you give me food you’ll earn my trust and I’ll follow you around

•

Asmodeus: Covered in blood for sexy reasons

Asmodeus: Also I just got stabbed

Asmodeus: Don’t suppose there’s anyone here willing to tenderly clean, stitch and bandage my wounds while calling me an idiot in an exasperatedly fond tone of voice is there?

•

Diavolo: Introducing a new alignment— chaotic lawful. I have a strict moral code but nobody can figure out what the hell it is

•

Mammon: My best feature is that I’m blindingly intelligent for about 30 seconds a day

Mammon: I do not get to choose which seconds, they are not consecutive

•

Satan: Okay I’m normal now I promise. Let me out of the case please

•

Leviathan: Power move: calling someone a coward in the middle of a fight while also running away from them as fast as you possibly can

Lucifer: Mammon ghost wrote this

Mammon: YO

•

Leviathan: “Are you a boy or a girl?”

I am the physical embodiment of suffering

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

pairing: dieter bravo x ghost hunter!female reader word count: 4.9k rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲

The producers of your hit ghost hunting show, Spirit Seekers, have picked your next celebrity guest. Dieter Bravo. You’re not looking forward to being locked in a reportedly haunted mansion with one of Hollywood’s biggest divas.

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

the first of my october spooky specials is here! ghost image in title art is from TO LIFE, TO DEATH by Jean-Marie GITARD. if you enjoy this fic, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment and thank you for reading!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), drug use - weed, smoking, dub con - sex following drug use, vaginal fingering, handjob, dry humping, getting locked in a haunted house together, misunderstandings. let me know if any tags are missing!

It’s not often you get called into an actual meeting with your producers. You’re on the road a lot filming for your hit ghost hunting show, Spirit Seekers, so they usually spare you from attendance and send you an itemized e-mail recap.

Not today, though. Today, all five producers were CC’d on the e-mail that requested a meeting to go over your next episode, which is set to start filming in two days. You tap your fingers against the shiny wood conference table, staring out at the Los Angeles cityscape through the panoramic windows as you wait for the suits to join you.

They all arrive at once, three men filing through the doorway with veneered smiles and abnormally smooth foreheads. They shake your hand one by one before taking their seats.

It’s Alec, a paunchy man with grey hair and round glasses, that speaks first, starting with a mumble of your name followed with, “I’ll cut to the chase. We’ve got a celebrity guest for the McCallister mansion episode that you’ll need to work into your production this week.”

“This is pretty late notice,” you reply, mind already running through what you’ll need to do to adjust for the format of a guest special. “Who is it?”

The three men exchange wary glances and you sit up straighter, bracing yourself for the response.

“Dieter Bravo,” Alec finally says, smoothing his tie with his hand.

“You’re shitting me.” If there’s one person you can’t stand, it’s Dieter fucking Bravo. “Is this how I find out Ashton is filming Punk’d again?”

The joke doesn’t land. Alec clears his throat before saying, “This isn’t a joke. And it’s an excellent opportunity to—”

“To what? Pander my show to a diva who’s just going to make my job difficult?”

“He has a very strong fan base that could bring in a large number of new viewers. Your show is popular, but only to a limited demographic,” Alec says. “We’re doing this for you. Spirit Seekers has a lot of potential but if you’re going to remain at the top and have a chance for another Emmy nomination, maybe even an award, you need to be willing to work with the guests that will bring in views.”

You sigh heavily. “I hate that you’re right.”

“I know. But I always am.” He slides a folder across the table to you. “Here are his requirements.”

“Requirements? He does know this isn’t a blockbuster production set, right?”

“This is the modified list,” the man to Alec’s right, Stephen, says. “Trust me, this is significantly better than it once was.”

You open the folder, scanning the document. “Alkaline water, glass bottle. Absolutely no plastic,” you read. “Organic, non-GMO, dye free, gluten free crackers. Did he just pick every Whole Foods buzzword and stick them together?”

“We will make this as easy for you as we can. We just need you to focus on the episode. Okay?”

“Fine,” you mumble, shutting the folder. “He breaks any of my equipment, I’m billing you.”

“Deal.”

Two days later you’re sitting in your makeshift command center with your crew mates, Andrew and Mike, making sure that all the monitors are displaying the feeds from the static cameras set up inside the mansion. You’ve already filmed solo interview segments with the owner, an elderly man who inherited the house over thirty years ago but left it untouched because of what he believes is a ghostly presence.

The sun is low behind the gorgeous Queen Anne Victorian home, orange sky haloing the steep roofed mansion. The historic building sits on six acres of land surrounded by a wrought iron fence that the owner, Paul, had to unlock for you to set up for the night filming session you would be doing this evening. He stands behind you now with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you connect your equipment.

“So you’ll be in there all night?” He asks, voice wary.

“Most of it. We’ll get three hours of footage with Andrew following us through the house and then a few more hours of single camera action, coupled with the static night vision feeds that will roll all night. We’ll be inside until 3 a.m. and then work out here for a bit before packing up,” you reply. “Thank you so much for letting us come in and do an investigation.”

“I’ve got a bet going with a buddy of mine,” Paul says, puffing his chest out. “If you find something, he owes me a hundred bucks.”

You laugh. “I can’t guarantee anything. My goal isn’t to make a ghost where there isn’t one.”

“I know, I know. But I’m telling you, this place has always been weird.” He glances up at the house, his frame shivering despite the California warmth. “Doors always opening and shutting on their own, footsteps, voices. Whole nine yards. S’why I never moved in.”

You knew all of this, of course. You’d done a walk through of the property with one of your camera guys, letting Paul tell you his first hand experiences in the old house. You’re about to reply when the sound of a car barreling up the gravel driveway pulls your attention away from the conversation.

A black Escalade approaches, coming to a stop in a cloud of dirt that makes you cough. Paul pats your back as the back door opens and designer boots drop onto the gravel.

Dieter Bravo stands with one hand gripping the door of the car while he uses his other hand to tilt his sunglasses down his nose to squint at you. He’s wearing black joggers and a faded gray t-shirt with a hole near the collar, his hair a fluffy mess of dark curls.

“Hey,” you say in greeting. You hold a hand out and give him your name, forcing a smile on your face. “Welcome to the command center.”

“Command center? This some kind of secret army operation or something?” He asks, shutting the door and walking past you, leaving you with your hand out stretched for an unreciprocated handshake.

“Michael keeps an eye on the static cameras in case one needs to be fixed,” you explain, gesturing to the man sat in front of the wall of screens with a headset on. “Now that you’re here only,” — you check your watch — “an hour late, we can get started. Andrew, could you get him mic’d?”

Andrew approaches with a wireless microphone and the actor steps back and holds his hands up. “Hold up, I gotta make sure you got everything.”

“Got everything?” You ask.

“Yeah. My snacks and water?” He looks around expectantly.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yes, they got your snacks. They’re in the cooler. Can you please let Andrew get your mic on? We have to start the guest filming before the light is gone.”

Andrew approaches Dieter again, who lets him get close enough to hook the mic to the waist of his pants. Dieter smirks as he says, “You could at least buy me dinner first.”

You groan, grabbing your own mic. “Let’s get started.”

“The mansion itself was built in the late 1800s and has only been home to two families since it was finished. It’s been in Paul’s possession for thirty years,” you say, walking backwards towards the house as the camera man follows. Dieter stands off to the side of the wraparound porch, waiting for his cue. “And tonight, we’ve got the exclusive opportunity to explore this gorgeous home with a special guest. Tonight’s Spirit Seeker is none other than Emmy Award winning actor, Dieter Bravo!”

Dieter steps into frame and gives a smile to the camera, clapping his hands together. “Let’s catch some ghosts!”

“Now, Dieter, we’re not the Ghostbusters,” you say, your voice deadpan. Dieter raises his eyebrows at you.

“That’s the best you’ve got?” He asks. Your brows pinch together.

“Excuse me?”

“‘We’re not the Ghostbusters’? Really?” He waves his hands to the camera. “Come on, sweetheart, give it a little more energy.”

Your teeth are clenched so hard your jaw aches. “I had energy over an hour ago. You know, when you were supposed to get here?” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Can we just get inside?”

He holds an arm out, gesturing for you to enter in front of him. Having toured the mansion already, you signal to Andrew to focus the camera on your guest for his reaction.

Dieter looks around the foyer, grand staircase and marble floors the centerpieces of the large space. “It’s a damn shame they don’t make them like this anymore. Look at the carvings! This has gotta be all original, right?”

“Yep. They’ve only upgraded the internal stuff, like plumbing and electrical,” you confirm. “The owner, Paul, inherited the house after his grandfather passed thirty years ago. He used to spend his summers here when he was a child and vividly remembers experiencing some…unexplained events that have left an impression on him.” You approach a table that’s been set up with your usually line up of equipment. “Tonight, we’re going to see if we can find an explanation for the inexplicable.”

“That’s so cheesy,” Dieter laughs. “You’ve got the cutest serious face, though.”

He thinks I’m cute? Your treacherous brain says, your face heating in response to the compliment. You quickly look at your equipment.

“Anyways,” you say, clearing your throat. “Let’s go through the equipment.”

You start with the basics. A digital recorder for capturing electronic voice phenomenon, night vision cameras, and dowsing rods. Further down the table you have thermal cameras, electromagnetic field meters, REM pods, and spirit boxes. Dieter listens attentively, to your surprise, and even asks a thoughtful question about the spirit boxes.

“How about we divvy up the gear? I can take the recorder and thermal camera, you can take the EMF reader—“

“No can do,” he interrupts, holding his hands up. “I don’t fuck with EMF.”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

“That shit is toxic. It’ll warp your DNA.”

“Dieter,” you say incredulously, “The entire planet is comprised of EMF.”

“No, that’s the geomagnetic field,” he argues.

“It’s the same thing!” You take a deep breath. “You know what? I’ll take the EMF detector. You can have the thermal camera,” you compromise, shoving the camera into his hands. You hastily gather the rest of the devices.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

It’s the last hour of the main filming session where Andrew films you and Dieter using the equipment. So far, there haven’t been many notable experiences. You’ve captured a few creaking floorboards and the EMF meter has gone off a few times, but nothing that you can undoubtedly point to as proof of the paranormal, which is par for the course. What people don’t realize when watching your heavily edited show is that you cut out hours of silence and empty footage.

“Alright, Andrew, you’re welcome to head out. We’ll do a bit more upstairs,” you tell the camera man. “Thanks for you help.”

“‘Night, boss,” he replies with a little salute. Dieter watches him as he leaves.

“So, it’s just us now, huh?” He says, his eyebrows raised suggestively. “All alone in a haunted house…pretty hot.”

“Oh, please,” you say nervously, fiddling with your thermal camera, “We haven’t gotten any evidence that this place is haunted.”

“Maybe the ghosts are just shy,” he suggests.

You grab the REM pod and turn on the device, the LED lights flashing. “Let’s do a REM pod session. Here, hold the camera.”

Dieter holds the expensive equipment delicately, staring at the night vision screen to keep you in frame. “Not often I get put behind the camera,” he comments.

You spend the next twenty minutes asking a series of questions in the quiet room, your digital recorder running in your hand. Dieter remains focused on the screen.

“Why don’t you playback the recording?” He suggests. You glance at him, his face illuminated in the dark by the lights of the camera and the faint moonlight that filters through a window.

“Good idea,” you admit, hitting the stop button and running the tape back. There’s some static feedback before your voice announces the date and time of the recording.

“Is there anyone here with us?” Your recorded voice asks. There’s a beat of silence and you fully expect your voice to be the next thing you hear but instead there’s a garbled, “Yes.”

“Holy shit!” Dieter shouts. “That was a fucking ghost!”

“Shhh!” You hiss, flapping your hand at him. You play it back and sure enough, the same disembodied voice echoes through the room, clear as day. “Holy shit!”

“Play the rest, play the rest,” Dieter demands. He steps closer with the camera trained on the recorder.

Together, you listen to the rest of the recording. There’s another moment where you think you might have gotten a response, but it’s not as clear as the first one. You play it back again and again, and finally Dieter takes the recorder from you.

“Alright, enough, if I hear you ask, ‘Do you mean any harm?’, one more time, I’m going to have to tattoo it across my ass,” he says with a laugh. “Actually, that would be kind of cool, right? Very…provocative.”

“Oh my god.” You can’t help but laugh and the man’s face lights up with a cute smile, the corners of his brown eyes creasing with the force of it. “Let’s go check out the study.”

“How does this one work?” Dieter asks as you turn on the spirit box, the staticky feedback noise filling the room.

“It sweeps through different radio stations rapidly and, theoretically, a paranormal entity can manipulate it and use it to speak. Just ask question.” You fix the camera on him. “Ready when you are.”

“So…do any of the ghosts think I’m hot?” He asks, glancing around the room. You bite your lip to hold in your laugh as the static continues. “Tough crowd.”

You roll your eyes. “Be serious.”

“Okay, okay, fine. Uh…did anything like…bad….happen to you?” No response. “Do you…like having guests?”

“No.”

Dieter jumps, eyes wide as he looks at the spirit box. “No fucking way,” he says excitedly. “Okay, uh, why don’t you want guests?”

“Loud.”

“Oh my god,” you murmur. “Keep going!”

“Do you want to hurt us?” Dieter asks. The device is silent, no responses coming through. His shoulders drop in disappointment. “Damn. Some confirmation that we’re dealing with Casper and not that fucking thing from Insidious would have been nice.”

“Try one more question? I’m going to get the thermal cam,” you tell him, rushing to the desk in the center of the room for your equipment. You hastily power it on and point both cameras at him. “Ok, go.”

“You’re supposed to say action,” Dieter says, making you roll your eyes. “But I’ll let it slide. Hmm…ghost, is there a room we should explore next?”

It’s silent for a beat, and you think maybe the session may be over, but suddenly the device spits out the word, “Attic.”

Dieter stares at you with wide eyes. “Guess we’ve gotta go higher.”

“Let’s do it.”

You open the door to the attic, revealing a dark, narrow staircase that looks particularly haunting. The man stands at your back, looking up into the inky black darkness. He audibly swallows.

“Uh…how about you go first? You’re the professional,” he suggests.

“You scared?” You tease, taking a tentative step forward. “It’s just a little attic.”

“In a very haunted house!” He hisses. “What if it’s luring us here to kill us?”

“Then you would have had to film for this ‘stupid show’ with nothing to show for it. Tragic,” you reply sarcastically, placing quotes around the words stupid show.

Because that’s what you’ve heard him call it. Your show was up for a Primetime Emmy award last year for your Halloween special and it was your first time attending an award show. Dieter was there to present an award and was seated only a few seats down from you, talking to another actor you vaguely recognized, when you overheard his feelings for your show.

“I can’t believe they put such a stupid show in this category,” he said, loudly. “It doesn’t even belong here.”

“What are you talking about?” Dieter asks as you reach the open attic. There’s a circular window that looks out over the grounds, caked with dust and only allowing a tiny amount of light into the room. You turn to face him.

“At the Emmy Awards last year. I was sitting two seats down from you and you said — and I quote — ‘I can’t believe they put such a stupid show in this category’,” you snap.

He stares at you incredulously. “Are you kidding me? I love your show. I’ve been begging my agent to get me on as a guest since your first episode!”

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically.

“It’s true! Just ask him!” He steps closer, eyes wide and pleading, looking like a puppy who’s just been reprimanded. “I was talking about that stupid potato documentary. It was boring as hell and had no reason being nominated!”

“Wait…so...you like my show?”

“I love your show. It’s, like, the closest thing to being in an episode of Scooby-Doo.”

You laugh and Dieter’s face brightens, like he knows he’s in the clear. Suddenly, the sound of a door slamming has you both screaming and Dieter launches forward, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he leaps into the air.

It catches you by surprise, all of his weight leaning into you and sending you crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and an echo of groans.

“What the fuck was that?!” You ask. “Dieter, get off, I can’t breathe!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, rolling off of you with a thump and another pained noise. “You were supposed to catch me.”

“Catch you?” You wheeze, flat on your back.

“Yeah, like in the shows. Scooby always caught Shaggy.”

“Why am I Scooby?!”

“I don’t know,” he shouts. “Listen, let me go check what that was.”

“You’re not leaving me up here,” you hiss. “We go together.”

The two of you make it to the bottom of the stairs, only to discover that the door to the attic has slammed shut. Not only that, but the damn thing won’t open. Dieter slams his shoulder into it as he twists the knob, cursing up a storm as he tries to shove it open with no luck.

“Remember what I said about the ghosts trying to murder us?” He asks.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a radio. I’ll tell Michael he needs to come try to open the door.” You tug the radio free from the waist of your jeans, pressing the button and asking, “Mike? You there?”

Silence fills the room. You try again.

“Mike?”

More silence.

“Fucking Mike,” Dieter grumbles. He heads back upstairs to the attic and you trail after him. He makes a beeline for the small window, feeling around the edges of it. “Maybe we can get the window open and call out to him.”

“Good idea,” you tell him, coming up beside him and pulling a flashlight from your back pocket, shining the light on the windowsill to help him find the latch.

There’s a rusted crank that he starts turning, the hinges squeaking loudly enough to make you wince. The window opens the slightest bit, fresh air flowing into the stale room.

“Can you get it open a little more?” You ask. With a grunt, he forces the crank around, his biceps stretching the sleeves of his shirt.

Not that you’re watching his biceps. Or the muscles of his back as he moves. Definitely not.

“That’s as far as it’ll go,” he says. “See if you can see your little tent down there.”

“Command center,” you grumble, doing as suggested. You can can’t see much except a corner of the white tent fabric, but you call out anyways, “Michael! Mike! Hey!”

There’s no movement from below, no responding shout. You call out for him again and again, but it’s no use. He’s clearly not answering.

“I don’t have my phone during investigations. Do you have yours?” You ask. Dieter pulls his phone from his front pocket.

“Fuck, it’s dead,” he groans, tapping the black screen. You sigh.

“What are we supposed to do now?” You check your watch and find it’s 1:30 a.m. You have no idea where the fuck Mike went, but hopefully he’ll be back by 3 a.m. for debrief and a very stern lecture about abandoning his post. Dieter grins at you.

“Wanna get high?”

“The episode you did at the asylum in Kentucky is my favorite. It’s so fucking scary. The gurney moving? The shadows? Fuck, I was hiding in a blanket the whole time,” Dieter says.

You’re sitting beside each other with your legs out in front of you, your backs leaning against the wall beneath the small window. You’re pleasantly buzzed, your head a little fuzzy and your limbs loose from the joint you’ve passed back and forth for the last half hour and you’ve been talking about your favorite episodes, yours to film and his to watch, the conversation flowing surprisingly well.

“You know, maybe I was wrong about you,” you say when there’s a lull in conversation. Dieter looks at you, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I just…I don’t know. I thought you were this high maintenance asshole, I guess. But you’re kinda cool.”

Dieter laughs. “Oh, baby, I’m definitely high maintenance. You weren’t wrong about that.”

Something about Dieter calling you baby makes you feel warm and gooey. You’d like to blame it on the weed but if you’re honest with yourself for once, it’s because of him. You tried not to like him, you really did, but he’s funny and nice and doesn’t think your whole ghost hunting gig is a waste of time like a lot of men you’ve dealt with in the past. Not to mention he’s so hot, with his messy hair and pretty brown eyes and warm tan skin. Sure, he’s a pain in the ass, but you’re realizing now that it’s actually part of his charm.

You must be quiet for too long or fidget too much because he’s smirking at you now, plush lips tilted up mischievously. “You liked that, huh?” He asks.

“Liked what?” You whisper. He’s scooches closer, his thigh pressing against yours and your shoulders brushing.

“Me calling you baaaaby,” he says, drawing out the word teasingly. “You got all quiet about it.”

“N-no I didn’t.”

“Riiiight,” he teases. He twists his body, reaching an arm across to grip your thigh. “C’mere.”

You go willingly, maneuvering your clumsy limbs until your legs are spread over his lap. He looks up at you with glassy eyes and a syrupy smile, sliding his hands into the back pockets of your jeans.

“You wanna try that again, baby?” He buries his face against your chest and you laugh, squirming in his grip. “Come on, be honest with me.”

“Maybe…maybe I kinda like it,” you mumble. His hands drift up your waist.

“Like what?”

“When you call me baby.”

He presses a kiss to your collarbone, the touch electrifying. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“You’re so annoying,” you huff, trying to pull away from him. He holds you tightly.

“Nooooo,” Dieter whines, peppering kisses along all the skin exposed by your tank top that he can reach.”’M sorry, I’ll be good for you, baby.”

Your eyes flutter as you sink into his hold. His light kisses turn into teasing nips of his teeth that make you gasp and grind yourself over his lap. You can feel him growing hard beneath you, the length of his cock pressing deliciously against the seam of your jeans to give you the friction you’re craving.

Dieter’s hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you forward to press his lips to yours. It’s awkward at first, just a lingering peck, but then he licks at your bottom lip and you open up for him, his tongue hot against yours as you explore each other. Your mouths are a little dry from the weed but the kiss quickly grows hot and wet, a little desperate and messy as you move together.

“Fuck,” Dieter groans when he pulls back for a breath. “Keep moving, just like that.”

You have a better idea, though. You move down a little bit until you can get your hands on the fly of his pants, popping the button and pulling the zipper. He helps you out a bit, lifting his hips to shove his pants down just enough for you to reach into his boxers and wrap a hand around his thick cock. His eyes are dark and his mouth goes slack as you slowly bring your fist up, palming the slick head and smearing the bead of precum around the sensitive tip.

You withdraw your hand, bringing it to your face to lick your palm, getting it nice and wet as you keep your gaze fixed on him. He’s breathing hard, chest heaving with the effort and he gasps when you take him back in your hand.

“Fuck, feels so fucking good,” he groans, tipping his head back against the wall with a thump. “Tighter, baby, squeeze it tighter. Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

His words have your clit aching with need and you reach down with your other hand to unbutton your jeans, trying to keeping your motions coordinated as you do. Dieter looks up and notices what you’re trying to do.

“You need a lil something, baby?” He asks. When you nod, his hand smacks yours away, successfully undoing the button and zipper. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

His hand slides beneath your jeans and panties, thick fingers quickly zeroing in on your needy clit with tight circles that have your hand stilling around his cock as you moan. His other wraps around yours, encouraging your movements as he plays with your pussy.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, fingers dipping lower until they’re pressing against your slick entrance. “Keep moving your hand, baby.”

You hadn’t even noticed that you stopped, too focused on how good his touch felt. “‘M sorry,” you mumble.

“Don’t be sorry,” Dieter murmurs, one finger pressing slowly inside of you. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

You try to focus on his cock, sliding your tight fist over his length, twisting your wrist around the flushed head, smearing the wetness at the tip around with your thumb. He pumps one finger, then two inside of you in a matching rhythm, the heel of his hand brushing your clit and making you moan.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, rocking your hips the slightest bit. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, baby, I’m right there with you,” Dieter replies, his own hips chasing your hand. “Come on, come on, all over my hand, baby.”

The wave of pleasure crashes over you, your muscles tightening before releasing all at once as you cum, clenching around his fingers and moaning his name. Warmth spreads over your hand and when you finally open your eyes you see that Dieter has cum as well.

“Uh,” you say awkwardly, “What…what do I do?”

“Huh?” Dieter mumbles, withdrawing his hand from your jeans.

“With the” — you nod towards your cum covered hand — “mess?”

“Oh, right. Uh…just kinda…wipe it into my boxers?” He says. You do as he suggests, wiping the sticky mess into the fabric. “I’ll just deal with it later.”

“Boss? You there?” Mike’s voice calls out over the radio, which sits discarded to the side. You scramble off of Dieter’s lap to grab the device.

“Mike! We’ve been locked in the attic for over an hour!” You hiss. “Come get us right now and maybe I’ll let you keep your job.”

Mike responds that he’ll be right up and you fix your pants, hooking the radio back onto your jeans. Dieter stands, pulling his pants up and gathering some of the equipment. You stand together, waiting for Mike in what you would consider an awkward silence until Dieter bumps your shoulder with his.

“We should do that again sometime,” he says. “Maybe without the audience.”

“Audience?” You ask.

He leans in close, lips brushing your ear and making your shiver as he whispers, “The ghosts.” You shove him away, both of you dissolving into giggles. His face grows serious once more. “No, really. You wanna like…get breakfast or something? I know this good farm-to-table place that opens super early.” You smile at him.

“I’d like that.”

Dieter sits on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a box of gluten free crackers in his lap. “Hurry up! It’s starting!”

“Your fancy microwave burned my popcorn,” you whine as you rush back into the living room. Dieter sneaks a hand into your bowl, shoving popcorn hastily into his mouth. “Hey!”

“Boyfriend tax,” he explains. “Now, hush, or I won’t invite you over to watch anymore.”

“It’s my show!”

The opening theme music starts, some eerie instrumental that plays over a montage of scenes from earlier episodes. As the music fades, shots of the house and your recorded voiceover explain the location for the episode right before it cuts to you and Dieter.

“…And this, is Spirit Seekers,” you and Dieter say along with your recorded self, matching grins on your faces.

Dieter Bravo masterlist

All masterlists

[codenamesazanka]

being a hopeless spinaraki, but also not just spinaraki, because this applies to all of the League and Villains in general—

Is it possible to dig deeper into Shigaraki's "If Spinner is still alive" and its meaning/implications and like. cry over it?

If Spinner is still alive = We went into fight knowing we might not make it out alive. (Heroes get total victory. The Villains don't count as part of that.)

If Spinner is still alive = AFO gave him those extra quirks and I, while possessed, wasn't able to stop it. Maybe I wouldn't have stopped it, because Spinner chose it. It might have been the quirks which killed him.

If Spinner is still alive = But it's also entirely possible Heroes could've killed him. Spinner is just a weakling with a useless quirk and some swords, but still, maybe he's dead because Heroes killed him. Heroes killed Twice. Heroes have repeatedly tried to kill me; cannot save me from this death. Toga went into battle thinking it was life or death. Heroes kill, and we Villains all know this.

If Spinner is still alive = I wanted him to see my horizon, because he was looking forward to it. I wanted to be a Hero for the League. Now, I can't do that anymore. Because of that, tell him this, for me.

If Spinner is still alive = Maybe he lived. Out of everyone in the league, Spinner lives because he's weak, he's ignorable. He was only following me. He didn't have a death wish, his power is something Heroes could manage. He wouldn't be considered too dangerous to live.

If Spinner is still alive = Because I know that he might not be. Because I don't trust Heroes have to saved any of us, whether from AFO machinations, or from ourselves, or from the ravages of battle.

'If' implies uncertainty. There's significant meaning in that - that Shigaraki knows Heroes there's a good chance cannot/would not/did not want to save them. And the fact that it's Spinner who gets an 'if' - Spinner, weakest one in the League. How hard is it to stop Spinner? Even with the extra quirks. Maybe especially with the extra quirks - he'd be disoriented, unintelligible, clearly not doing well. He was assigned the task of invading a hospital and retrieving Kurogiri with 15,000 rioters, the relatively least dangerous task out of all other Villains. That's basically zero trust in Heroes to have stopped Spinner in a way that didn't kill him, to have helped him from his melting brain.

Like, Shigaraki has seen the aftermath of his own 'saving'. Deku might have had some intention to save him, but not enough to actually succeed preventing his death. If that was ever the goal. Maybe all that mattered was just ghost of The Crying Child.

If any of the League lives, it's luck. It's mercy.

One might argue, it's because rhe League was so dangerous, and they made the choices that got themselves killed.

But meta-wise, we had that whole Ending arc about Heroes Don't Kill or whatever; we kept getting hit over the head with 'Heroes Save People'; the narrative dangled in front of us 'Heroes Will Save The League'. During the war, background Heroes made gestures of pulling captured Villains away from fire, of capturing them alive.

Then again, Twice was killed and that's probably the escape clause - if the League became dangerous enough, saving them can stop being the goal, despite the narrative supposedly having made it its goal.

Heroes fought the Villains and Shigaraki knew was there was no guarantee Heroes would save them or keep them alive. Despite being Heroes. Because they're Villains, they're unforgivable, they got too broken, they don't get that promise of being saved. Never had - not from abusive homes, not from societal apathy, not from the cruelty of conformity, not from their 'one bad day'; never will.

It reminds me of when Toga sought out Ochako. Twice was killed, and Toga desperately wanted to know, if she ever needed it, if it came down to it, Heroes would save her. Heroes would treat her like a person who deserves being saved, because she's a human being and should be afforded at least that. The League already knew Heroes would not save them. But Toga kept hope. She wanted to believe that Heroes wouldn't put her down like a mad dog. She was disappointed. She gave up hope. Ochako rekindled that hope, but just Ochako. And then the narrative seemed to have refused Toga getting saved anyways.

(Unless, of course, being saved is only about the heart being saved. Then yeah, I guess they can just die.)

[saltwaterburns]

Hey, would you write Anthony Lockwood x reader,in which for the cause they have to pretend to be married? Lockwood gives her an engagement ring and his mother's wedding ring, and he wears his father's wedding ring. Thanks in advance😊

two times you kissed him and the one time he kissed you

warnings: the usage of y/n a few times, i apologise

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

a/n: i loved writing this. that's all i have to say

"So while Lockwood and Y/N distract Penelope, Lucy swoops into the Black Library and snatches the "Book of Death". Meanwhile I'll be downstairs on the lookout! Isn't it just the most brilliant plan?" George exclaims excitedly, but he's met with silence. It's suffocating, and you could almost hear a needle drop to the ground.

"So...me and Lockwood have to pretend to be married?" You ask after a bit, emphasising the marriage part. "How on Earth can we pull that off convincingly?"

"You really do wound me, love. You don't think we could pull it off?" Lockwood chimes in, your cheeks heating up at the pet name that rolls off his tongue so ridiculously well.

"No, no that! Just, we're quite young, aren't we? How are we going to explain our reasoning to, conjoin?"

"She does have a fair point." Lucy adds thoughtfully, and you smile at the red haired girl. This could be your ticket out of this. "You could tell anyone who asks that the ghost hunting field is life threatening and you wanted get married in case one of you won't make it past the age of 25?"

Before you can even get a word in to object, maybe think of another way, both of the boys agree. You sigh defeatedly.

"So, that's settled then! The ball is in a few hours so we should go and get outselves ready. Y/N, come with me."

You tell Lucy you'll be up in a few minutes to help her do her hair and follow Lockwood upstairs to his room. You've only been there a couple of times to tend to his injuries after particularly hard cases, so going in there without a proper purpose made the butterflies in your tummy go wild.

He opens the door for you and you step in, your eyes trailing over the bookshelves, his messy bed, clothes that are scattered everywhere. It looks messy, but feels organized in a sense.

He shuts the door with a soft click and motions for you to go and sit on the bed. You do so and he disappears for a few seconds, coming back with something in his hand. It's a soft looking velvety case and it reminds you of those ring holding boxes.

Oh.

Oh.

The mattress dips as he sits down next to you, heat emitting from his body, making your heart flutter. Even while sitting down, he's a head taller than you.

He opens the small case and between the cushions, you spot two rings. One of them is a golden wedding band, decorated by a small diamond thats glimmering in the sunlight shining through the window. The second one is more dainty, thinner and blessed with a matching diamond. Your breath catches in your throat.

"These belonged to my parents. I don't think I ever saw them without wearing these. They've got engravings inside as well, 'Forever Yours'. I got them back after they.." he trails off, not wanting to finish the sentence. You understand and grab his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"All of this is only for the case, Lockwood. We don't have to use these. I know they mean the world to you. What if something happens to them?" You murmur, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. He shakes his head and takes the dainty ring out, gently taking ahold of your left hand and sliding it onto your ring finger. You could've sworn your heart skipped a beat.

"Want to do the honours?" He asks and chuckles, offering you the case. You grin and take the second ring, sliding it onto his ring finger. In a moment of boldness, you bring his hand up to your mouth and press a kiss onto the ring. The metal is cool against your lips.

"They're beautiful, Lockwood. Thank you for trusting me with this." You say, and he smiles.

"You're welcome. We have to act convincingly, don't we? You should go and get ready now, we don't have a lot of time."

You leave his room and walk upstairs, buzzing with excitement. But when Lucy asks what you two were up to as you're doing her hair, you can't help but shrug it off.

Your hand is tightly clasped together with his as you're making your way through the crowd, Lucy having disappeared already and George nowhere to be seen. People are stopping to congratulate you and you feel like your cheeks are permanently painted red, aching from smiling so much.

The chattering that's coming from every corner of the huge room quietens down as miss Penelope Fittes makes her appearance, the silver sequins on her dress glimmering like a mirrorball. She stands on the edge of the balcony a few floors above you, looking around the room of prey, her being the only hunter.

Lockwood squeezes your hand and pulls you against his chest, his hands falling to your hips. You can feel Penelope's gaze burning into the back of your head and knowing that she's watching, you stand up to the tips of your toes and press your lips against Anthony's.

For a second, you forget why you're doing this, where you are, and who's watching. Him and his soft lips are the only thing on your mind, the way he tastes like mint and peach driving you crazy, leaving you addicted.

He's the first one to pull away. You almost frown but manage to keep your expression light, turning back around. She's begun her ascent down the main marble staircase, her sharp heels clicking. Now you can only hope she'll come to congratulate you.

"Mr. Lockwood, Ms. Y/L/N! What a lovely surprise to see you here. Oh my, are those wedding rings I spot?" She asks sweetly, Lockwood giving her one of his signature smiles.

"Yes actually, Ms. Fittes. Me and Y/N got married a few weeks ago. We just thought that in this line of work, we never know if we'll make it out alive."

You hear what he's saying, but you dont listen. Your hands are clasped together and the light is hitting his face so perfectly, his sharp features in harmony with his softer ones. He's like an angel sculpted by Michelangelo.

Penelope bids you farewell and with a polite smile moves on to another group, their dresses and suits much more expensive looking and their laughs much more fake. You really hope Lucy has gotten the book.

As if on cue, you spot her hastily walking down the stairs, a hoard of security guards following her. Lockwood sees her as well and pulls you with him, apologies spilling from your lips whenever you bump into someone.

He grabs your hips and pushes you against a pillar, your breath hitching in your throat. He's panting a little, his intense eyes looking straight into yours.

"I'm going to pull the fire alarm that's right next to your head, but I'm going to be kissing you while I do it so it's not as suspicious. Is that okay?" He asks quietly, his breath tickling your neck. You nod silently, unable to get a word out.

He pulls away, lips mere inches from yours. You're looking up at him, doe eyes wide and curious. His heart skips a beat, his stomach fluttering. He offers you a breathless chuckle and cups your cheek, kissing you for the second time that night. Fireworks burst into flames all around your body, a soft whimper coming from the back of your throat. You grip the front of his jacket, pulling him downwards and closer to you.

Suddenly, a shrill noise pierces through your ears. He pulls away and apologises with a smile, motioning for you to cover your ears. You and him manage to escape before the sprinklers go on, the crispy cold night air embracing you outside.

The plan said to head home in case any of you got separated, so you wave for a Night Cab, the smooth ride home lulling you asleep. Lockwood pays the driver a few pounds and gently shakes you awake, guiding you out of the car. As the engine sounds fade off into the night, you stand in the middle of the street with him, suddenly feeling bare under his gaze.

"Um, I'm not really sure if you know, but married couples kiss from time to time. And I was wondering since our last kiss was quite a while ago and not under ideal circumstances, we could do it again?"

You can't help but giggle at his words, tucking a loose curl behind your ear. "Oh really? I suppose so. We've got to act the part, haven't we?"

"I'm not really sure I want to act anymore." He grins sheepishly, taking a small step closer to you. "I really, really like you. And if you're up for it, we could make kissing a regular thing."

You know he's about to add something more to it but you dont let him finish, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands and slamming your lips on his. This kiss is more intense than others, no rush or reasoning behind it. It keeps going on going, getting better and better until your lungs are screaming at the lack of oxygen. You pull away, resting your forehead against his, both of your eyes shut with lovesick smiles on your faces.

"I like you too, Lockwood. In case you haven't noticed."

"You guys are NOT going to believe this! Outrageous! While I was out there risking my life, staling a book from freaking Penelope Fittes' personal library, GEORGE was out there trying to seduce a GIRL." Lucy shouts as you and Lockwood enter Portland Row,

"You guys had everything under control!! I wasn't even needed!"