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luxaofhesperides · 4 months

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Soulmate AU: First Words + End of the World ; requested by @justwannabecat!

Duke has long since accepted that he doesn’t have great luck. Most things in his life tend to go wrong very quickly, or complicate situations he was already struggling in (see: being a meta and getting his powers in the middle of a fight). Having an incomprehensible soulmark is an unpleasant discovery on the morning of his nineteenth birthday, but not entirely unexpected.

He had been hoping for something simple, a common one like hi it’s nice to meet you or sorry, didn’t mean to bump into you.

What Duke gets instead isn’t even words.

Scrawled across his left hipbone is a string of symbols glowing a faint green. They’re not in a language he recognizes, and the symbols seem to move, shifting ever so slightly so they look different every time he blinks.

“Well,” he says after a solid five minutes of staring into the mirror, unable to rip his eyes off his soulmate’s words, “I hope theirs looks nicer than mine.”

He spends his birthday in a bit of a daze, enjoying time spent with the Waynes and his friends. It’s hard to be fully present when he’s all too aware of the soreness on his hipbone flaring up each time he moves. It’s hard to keep his mind off of it, wanting nothing more than to search for answers, unravel the mystery of his soulmate’s first words.

“Something on your mind?” Jason asks, as the attention shifts off of him for a brief moment as Harper and Cullen get ready to leave and everyone rushes to give their goodbyes,

Duke shrugs, carefully keeping his hands still so they don’t drift to where his soulmark is hidden beneath his clothes. “Yeah. Nothing you need to worry about, though.”

Jason looks him over critically, then nods.

Duke resigns himself to being investigated by the rest of the Bats. If he’s off enough that Jason had to comment on it, then that means everyone’s noticed and are trying to figure out what’s happened. They’re not going to ask him, because they think he needs space to work through whatever’s got him so distracted, but they’re also not going to just do nothing.

This won’t be the first time they’ve done this. Duke expects it. Frankly, it would be stranger and much more concerning if they didn’t try to dig up all his secrets the moment they caught wind of him hiding something.

He’ll tell them about getting his soulmark soon. Soulmarks can appear on any birthday between the ages of thirteen to twenty five; they might suspect he got his, but they won’t be able to confirm.

For now, Duke can keep his soulmate’s first words (whatever that gibberish means) to himself.

He makes the decision then and there, as his birthday party winds down, to tell them in a week.

And because his luck is abysmal, a world ending threat hits five days later and suddenly there is no time for soulmarks and first words.

Duke is the last to arrive at the Fortress of Solitude, hitching a ride from Superboy to get there. The biting cold and the harsh winds keep the place far from the reaches of the rest of humanity, surrounded by nothing but deadly white.

Desolate as the landscape is, it’s still in better shape than the rest of the world.

Things would be better if it was alien invaders. It would be more bearable if some sort of cosmic colossus tried to eat their solar system. At least then there would be something physical that they could fight.

Instead, the world is breaking apart, the sky and earth both fracturing to reveal glowing green faultlines. Timelines are getting mixed up and muddled; just yesterday, Duke had to evacuate a building that had been demolished forty years ago, then stop a gang leader who wouldn’t be born for another eight years from taking over a neighborhood block and holding the residents hostage. Strange creatures are appearing out of nowhere, crawling out of shadows and tide pools and from beneath the roots of trees, all horrible, monstrous things that go after people with teeth and claws.

The Flashes and the rest of the speedsters are nowhere to be found. The last time anyone get communication from them, it had been Impulse sending Red Robin a glitchy, barely audible video chat saying something along the lines of “trying to fix—unstable—keep us here—never been alive before.” All things that are very concerning to hear, made worse by the fact that no one had been able to contact them at all.

The quiet loneliness of the Fortress of Solitude is a welcome change from the constant screaming, death, and destruction that’s taken over Gotham as well as the rest of the world. Last he heard, even Justice League China was at the end of their rope.

“In here,” Superboy instructs, guiding Duke through the halls. There’s no time to look around at Superman’s secret base. All his focus is stuck on staying conscious for another few hours to see if this gathering of heroes is able to find a solution to the world breaking apart.

Batman stands besides Superman. Both nod at Duke when he enters the room. Wonder Woman is watching over John Constantine as he writes something on the floor, muttering under his breath. The rest of the Justice League lean against each other, visibly exhausted as they wait for Constantine to finish up what he’s doing. A few other heroes are here too, and Duke goes to join them where they lean against a wall, fighting to keep their eyes open.

“Hey,” he greets, voice low. “Hanging in there?”

Wonder Girl sighs. “Somehow. I don’t know how much longer we can do this. There’s just too much…”

“We’ll get through this. I mean, even without us out there, plenty of civilians have formed rescue and relief groups to help with keeping things under control,” Speedy says, gently knocking her arm against Wonder Girl’s. “We just gotta keep going. No giving up.”

“What’s this plan, anyways? I just heard that they needed me here to some attempt to fix things.”

“Well, without the speedsters, you’re kind of the only one who can help with time and power related stuff,” Speedy says.

“That’s definitely a stretch. My powers don’t really have anything to do with time. It’s all just light and shadow.”

Speedy shrugs. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you? Too late to complain about it now.”

Duke doesn’t get a chance to say anything else when a loud clap catches his attention. The entire room goes still and silent as Constantine stands up and surveys the circle and symbols he’s written, taking up an entire corner of the large room.

“Alright,” he says. “Time to get started. Remember, let me do the talking. If you have to speak, it’s only to back me up or when a question is directed to you.”

Batman nods to the other Justice Leaguers, and suddenly everyone is falling into formation behind Constantine. Duke hurries to join them with Wonder Girl and Speedy, taking a place on the edge of the group where he’s a little closer to the circle than the others.

Constantine begins chanting. His voice is steady though none of the sounds make any sense, refusing to form themselves into recognizable words, and the air the in the room feels heavier. The chalk circle glows a blinding white and Duke can see magic swirling through the air, his power kicking in the let him watch as reality tears and a glowing star in the shape of a boy comes out of it.

Duke blinks, forcing his power down. The hypnotic swirls of magic fade from sight, but the boy still glows, bright and terrible as he floats above the circle and surveys them all. A crown engulfed in blue flame hovers above his head and the fabric of the cosmos is draped over his shoulders as a cape.

Just from presence alone, Duke can tell that this figure is now the strongest existence in this universe. He hopes this boy king is kind; no one, not even Superman, would be able to beat him in a fight.

The boy king opens his mouth and speaks, but it’s not words than comes out. A strange static like sound emerges, but light and almost melodic.

His left hipbone burns.

Duke gasps, hand flying down to it, and the boy king’s gaze snaps to meet his.

The world stands still. No one moves. No one dares to breathe.

And then the boy king drops to the floor and walks out of the circle.

“I thought you said that would hold him!” Batman hisses at Constantine, who is looking more and more distressed.

“It was supposed to! I wrote it specifically to hold the King of the Infinite Realms!”

The boy king glances at Constantine. This time, when he speaks, it’s in smooth English. “Did you name the king in your circle?”

“Yeah, I named Pariah Dark… Bloody hell, you ain’t him, are ya?”

“No,” the boy king smiles, “I’m Phantom.”

The cape and crown fade away, and suddenly it’s not an all powerful, terrifying king standing before them, but a young man with white hair and green eyes who looks Duke’s age. Like he could be any other new generation hero in the room.

“Phantom,” Duke repeats lightly, just under his breath, but it makes Phantom look at him again.

He walks forward, ignoring the other heroes’ aborted attempts to stop him, coupled with Constantine’s frantic back off motion happening behind him. Phantom leaves the circle and the Justice Leaguers behind to stand before Duke, a soft smile on his face.

“Hi,” he says softly, “I dreamed of you.”

“You—what?”

“I dreamed of you. I have for years now. To think that being summoned was what made us meet—” Phantom breaks off into a breathless laugh.

Duke swallows, then drops his had from where it had been pressed against his hip. “So we’re really—? You have my first words too?”

In the corner of his eye, he sees Batman stiffen up. Maybe he should have just told them the day after his birthday, but in Duke’s defense, this is the definition of extenuation circumstances.

“First words?” Phantom repeats, “Is that… Do we have different soulmate connections?”

“I think so. Here, everyone gets the first words their soulmates say to them appearing somewhere on their body.”

Phantom’s gaze darts down to Duke’s hip, then back up. “Oh. I get dreams. Where I’m from, we dream of our soulmates, and the closer we get to meeting them, the more we remember the dreams.”

“And you dreamed of me.”

“I did.”

“As touching as this is,” Constantine interrupts, and Duke gets to watch as Phantom rolls his eyes, “We summoned you here for a reason. Our world is falling apart at the seams and we need someone powerful, from the Realms, to help us fix it.”

“Okay.”

“...What do you mean ‘okay’?”

“I’ll help,” Phantom says.

“Just like that? No deal to be made, no price to be paid?”

“Just like that. I’m not one for deals anyways. If I can help, then I will. But I do want to see what the problem is with my soulmate by my side, if you don’t mind.”

Batman steps in, fixing Duke with a steady gaze, a barely noticeable tilt of his head. “Signal?”

“Yeah I’ll go with him. Of course I will. The sooner the better, in fact, because everything’s gone to shit.” Duke turns to Phantom, taking hold of one of his hands. “It is really bad out there,” he warns, “If you need help—”

“I’ll ask for help from others in the Realms,” Phantom says. “No offense or anything, but if it’s really that bad, I doubt living mortals will be able to do much to fix things. It’s why I was summoned, right?”

“Right. Let’s get to it, then.”

There’s a flash of mischief in Phantom’s eyes, and cheeky grin stealing across his face for a moment, before he says, “Aye aye, captain!” and picks Duke up like he weighs nothing and flies up through the ceiling.

Duke is able to hear everyone’s surprised, panicked shouts before they’re outside the Fortress of Solitude and Phantom is flying them away. He only needs a few directions from Duke before he finds the first of the large fractures in the sky.

“Yikes,” is all he says, which is not a great thing to hear. “I think I know how to fix it, though. We’ll need to do a little investigating as to who, exactly, started messing around with reality, but once we find the source, it’ll be an easy fix.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all week.”

“Even better than meeting your soulmate?”

“I haven’t slept for more than four hours all week. Knowing there’s an end in sight beats everything else.”

Phantom laughs, throwing his head back and Duke can’t help but drink in the sight of him, so ethereal and bright and full of life. “Fair enough! Got any ideas as to where we should start?”

“I’ve got an entire crew of detective vigilantes,” Duke replies. He’s not taking any more chances. No more waiting to talk about important things; he messed up by keeping his soulmark to himself, so he needs to make sure everyone meets his soulmate before shit goes south again.

“Let’s go find them, then!”

They take off again, soaring through the skies that are barely holding themselves together.

The world is still ending, and every hero is being stretched thin, but held carefully in Phantom’s arms, racing head first into a solution, Duke can’t help but feel that everything’s going to be alright now.

He’s had enough bad luck. Now, his soulmate with him, bearing the title of King with grace, things are finally starting to look up.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #when its the end of the world but youre soulmate is here and ready to help fix it #meanwhile constantine had gone ON and ON about how dangerous summoning realms beings are #and all the precautions they have to take and how to be specific when making deals etc etc #it was supposed to be only the justice league but with the world ending they wanted their proteges and allies with them in case things #went wrong w the summoning. and with the rest of the bats helping out in gotham and around the east coast #signal gets to join batman. plus hes got his meta powers that could help in the worst case scenario #NO ONE predicated signal and the GHOST KING being SOULMATES #batman leaves for gotham immediately. updates the rest of the team w 'ghost king successfully summoned. he's signal's soulmate.'#and does not respond to ANYONE after dropping that bomb on them lol #they do all get to meet phantom when they join forces to find whatever doomsday cult caused all this #and the world gets saved!!#also. semi related to all this. the speedesters are gone bc time went wacky and they tried to fix things. but then the speedforce kinda #came to life and trapped them. so they have been lowkey eaten by the speedforce bc the speedforce is the true eldritch monstrosity here #anyways. thanks for the prompt!!#working on ur other two prompts now :)

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audisive · 28 days

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♪ LET THE LIGHT IN.

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: the mixture of love and hate is a dangerous, but ghost is no stranger to danger.

tags: angst, little bit of comfort, enemies to lovers (?), ghost is a blind bastard as well as stupid, mention of being suicidal (but not really), hate is mistaken for love, mention of unconsented touching

Hate is a familiar word, ever the old friend. Strong and heavy. It's what fuels him and keeps him going – his strength, both a blessing and a curse. Hate, hate, hate. Ghost hates you; you drive him to hell and back with your word until the thin line between hospitality and hostility blurs and he steps over the other.

There's an old red monster that constantly crawls under his skin, corrupting his brain and his heart. Hatred consumes him at the sight of you. Ghost hates you. At least that's what he thinks.

Fleeting gazes are mistaken for heated glares, tensed jaw an unbreakable habit. There's a fire in his loins when your eye catches his at the right time. Ghost's heart speeds up because you make his blood pressure rise. His guts are twisted and turned to your accommodation without knowing, you're in his thoughts constantly because you're so awful.

Love and hate is black and white, color him blind. There's a fine line between the opposites, and he's ambivalent about you.

Of course he respects you; you're his teammate, – a remarkable one, at that – and he will trust you with his life and his heart in your hands, but as much as possible, he would prefer not having to.

Maybe ye're just no' inta women, LT. It's not that he hasn't considered it; can't help that he stares a little too long at anyone with bright blue eyes as engrossing as— Fuckin' 'ell, Johnny. Or perhaps his own were too dull, too icy, too bland. He lacked his sergeant's passion for nearly everything. A'm just pullin' yer leg.

Oh, but how Simon loves you.

Simon is familiar to you the same way the desert is familiar with the scorching heat of the sun, and despite how it warms you, kisses and burns and scars you, you miss every bit of it – the way he hurts you comfortingly. Loving him feels like snow meeting sand, – unfamiliar and impossible – but if snow can fall on the hottest desert, then who are you to be exempt?

Acknowledging the difference between love and hate is one, admitting that he doesn't feel the other way for you is another. It's not love; you're just part of the team. He repeats the mantra when his fist collides with the face of a man who made the mistake of touching you despite your lack of consent.

Your knuckles are split, sir. He repeats it to himself again when he's forced to sit with his thigh pressed to yours and feels the warmth of your skin against his. I can take care of m'self next time, Ghost.

I know, kid. It's not love. Not when he hushes you instead of yelling and barking orders at you as you bleed out on the floor of the warehouse. "Ghost," you plead for your life, weeping and gasping for air. Your voice breaks. His heart does, too. "I know, lovie. I know." It's not love. Not when he carries you singlehandedly in and out of the chopper, rushing to the medical ward before you can even lose consciousness. Not when he tends to the knife on your side before the bullet in his.

"Sure, the lieutenant isn't much for words, but the way he looks at you..." The knowledgeable (or maybe she just likes gossip) nurse trails off, searching for the right words in the back of her mind. "It's like there's no one else in the world but you – no, actually, he looks at you as if you're the world itself – he looks at you like a god, his. In a way that guarantees anyone that he'd live and repeat the horrors of this life in his next, just for you. And I've never seen him look at anyone like.. that. But now, I see him looking at you. Everyday."

She smiles at you, kind enough to continue. "Don't you think you deserve that kind of dedication? The kind that makes you feel like you're the center of someone's universe?"

You find yourself stunned by her words, your lips parting in the slightest manner. Speechless. She finds more words in your silence. "'Cause I think you do. You do deserve that," she smiles at you knowingly, as if she'd read your fate – as if the stars had told her all there is to know, "and something tells me he could give you exactly that." She's sure of it.

But Simon is only the ghost of a Ghost. He's fleeting, a glance, a graze, and a kiss.

Too early, too much, not enough, too late. He'd used up every excuse like a box of tissues until he had none, until he'd been left high and dry, until he had no choice but to admit it: he's in love with you in a way that is looked down upon. Desperately, longingly, and horribly so.

If your love was a noose, then Simon is a suicidal man. He wants your love to dig into the skin of his neck, and please take his breath away.

The image of you leaving was embedded into his brain, the same way he had burned the image of you into his mind long ago. His tongue dries with the words and pleads of love, but he thinks he doesn't. So he doesn't. He wants to call out to you – say something that might cause you to pause and turn around, maybe take him with you – but the words don't come, and you leave, taking his heart with you.

There's a longing that aches beneath his chest, an empty space.

All of the words in the world will not change the reality that he pushed himself into. Life has moved on without the two of you. He has so many things to tell you, but now is not the time.

He calls for your name.

Your breath hitches at his voice before you speak, "good night, lieutenant." You open a barrier between you and him just as you open the door, taking a step out of the seemingly unlived small apartment. His chest is unmoving as an unfamiliar feeling shoots through his veins. He should say something, anything. Say something, bastard.

With lowered pride, his mouth opens just a second too late. He hears the door click shut.

It never will be.

divider by @cafekitsune !

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