#let these boys visit earth

[opikiquu]

(disappears for a month and reappears with a slightly obscure hyperfixation) Hey guys

[fr1day-incredible]

I have seen a lot of people say that in s3 Crowley will be sulking and depressed while Muriel, Nina and Maggie will try to help him. Like they will kinda have a found family thing going on. And while i see that happening.

I also want let Crowley be angry. I want to see him go batshit

I see it going like this:

The first days or weeks (or even months) after Aziraphale left Crowley does sulk and drink himself into oblivion. No body sees him for weeks. Until one evening when he is looking into the sky he decides fuck it. Because "Clearly that angel doesn't give a shit about me, so why should i give a shit about him"

And from there it goes downhill. Crowley now does all the shit hell wants him to do and more. Drugs, drinking, smoking, tempting, bribery, getting into bar fights, tormenting, hooking up with every third person he sees, becoming an genuine asshole and every other shity thing a demon can do. Basically leading the most self destructive lifestyle that would have had a human dead within a month. But lucky him since human mortality doesn't apply to him.

He will let that hot anger consume him and motivate him to do more and more shity things. His goal will be to become unrecognisable from the Crowley he was.

Perhaps he will also get a new hairstyle (one he haven't had before) and then change the Bentley into a modern hot red sport car and change his whole closet.

Perhaps after a while one night he will pull up to the bookshop (he haven't seen it in months) and Nina (she stayed late at work) won't even recognize him at first, but when she does she is relieved to finally see him! But that's until he pulls out a fuel can and walks inside the bookshop.

Muriel would of course would be there, but a quick miracle would probably knock them out. Then he is spilling the fuel everywhere and with a snap of his fingers everything is burning. I totally see him smirking while saying:

"You where right angel, nothing lasts for ever"

Aziraphale at some point finds out about this and goes down to earth first time in months, and he is mad.

When they meet Crowley blames Aziraphale for the bookshop burning down and every other bad thing Crowley had done so far, "because if you hadn't left i wouldn't have done it". That makes Aziraphale go from mad to pissed. Everything escalates from there and now things between them are even worse. They are both very angry and blame the other for everything.

Perhaps, perhaps not things get violent or/and other people get involved

[yawnderu]

Simon lets out a deep chuckle as he sees your daughter pick flowers from the light, clean grass, her tiny hands barely even managing to gather enough strength to get the stems out of the ground.

“C'mon, that's enough.” His voice is patient, calloused hands picking his daughter up as he brings her up to his chest, a small smile when he sees her holding onto the flowers for dear life, giggles leaving her lips as he starts bouncing her while they walk.

It became a routine, in a way, for Simon to bring his daughter whenever he visits his family. She's too young to understand, so pure, so untainted from the dangers of the world, always kept safe by Simon and you, yet he can't fight off the urge to make his family see her.

He walks for a few minutes, enjoying the chilly air while his daughter cuddles up to him, one of her tiny hands gripping his jacket, while the other one is still holding onto the flowers. He stops in front of a set of four graves, the familiar pit of dread setting deep within him starts to come out, shaky hands managing to gently put the little girl down on the cold ceramic.

Mrs. Riley.

If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.

Simon was hiding his hurt quite well, managing to sit down next to his little girl, one hand on her back as she started crawling around, finally setting the flowers down.

“Mum?” His voice is quiet, almost cracking, as if he was the scared little boy his mother defended with her life. His daughter looks up at him with curious brown eyes, sitting down and entertaining herself with her own onesie.

“I remember telling you I'd never settle down because I could never get as lucky as Tommy and Beth...” He dragged out, gaze going down to the ring on his finger, the physical representation of your union.

“You've met my wife before, and now I want you to see my kid too.” He's barely managing to speak, words coming out rough and choked up as his hand caresses his daughter's thin hair, making him pause just to examine her features. She's a tiny carbon copy of him, a lovely nose and a set of brown eyes that will never see the horrors he lived.

“She's a proper daddy's girl, but you would've loved each other.” He's sure of it. His mum was always so lovely, so nurturing. A true angel on earth with way too much forgiveness and patience for her own good.

He picks his daughter up, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Simon thought he cried all his tears when he was a little boy, yet his nose is starting to sting, vision getting blurry for a few seconds until a choked sob manages to escape his lips. He's quick to wipe any tears away, simply trying to focus on the peace and quiet the cemetery offers, his hand running up and down his daughter's back, patting it softly just to hear that little giggle that seems to always repair his broken soul.

“All of you would've loved her, shy little thing she is.” He sniffles again before a quiet laugh leaves his lips, smiling despite the way his eyes are still filled with tears threatening to spill at any moment.

“I'm quittin' the SAS soon, don't want her to grow up without a father. The wife's happy about it, too.” Simon lets out a small sigh, looking down at the graves of his family, all buried next to each other. He shakes his head softly, his free hand quickly wiping off his tears before he goes back to holding his daughter, rocking her with care.

“I'll come back with her next time, jus' wanted to talk to you today. Let you meet this lovely girl.” Big brown eyes meet his gaze, instantly cheering him up despite everything. He pinches his cheek softly only for the little girl to smack his hand away with a giggle, only making his smile grow wider at how hot-heated she is. Just like her mother.

[ramshacklefey]

It's amazing to me just how good the Mormon church has been at hiding just how bad they really are from public view. Even the shit that gets spread around is the relatively harmless bullshit. They had a crazy prophet with magic glasses. They believe in god-mandated polygyny. They think everyone who is good enough will get their very own planet after the world ends. They wear magic underpants. Mormon men are all paladins.

Here's one of the ones you hear less often:

See, like many other Christian sects, the Mormons really do believe that the existence of Christ obviates the existence of Judaism. Judaism was just a placeholder until the "real" church could be established by Jesus.

And the Mormons in particular believe, dead ass, that the entire inheritance of Israel has been given to them, because the Jews failed to recognize the Messiah when he was on Earth. They really do. They have this whole system where people are given a "divine revelation" about which of the Tribes of Israel they're a member of (don't worry, they decided that most people belong to the two tribes that are willing to "adopt" people. Only the most specialest boys and girls are members of the original ten).

Let's sum up so far. The Mormons believe that they are the people of Israel, chosen and protected by God. If Jews want to get back in on that party, they can always repent and convert to Mormonism, the one true church to which God gave all the rights and blessings that were originally bestowed on Abraham's house.

But it doesn't stop there!

The Mormons also believe, in all seriousness, that all Indigenous peoples of the Americas are descended from a small group of Jewish people who left just before the fall of Jerusalem (~600 bc iirc). Their entire weird-ass extra bible is a chronicle of those people's history in [unspecific part of America]. At the very beginning of the book, two brothers in the original family turn away from god, so they and all their descendants are cursed with dark skin, so that the good Nephites (who remain "white and delightsome") will always be able to tell themselves apart from the wicked Lamanites.

So, you've got supposedly Jewish people running around the Americas. And the "good" ones are white, and the "bad" ones are brown. Then, ofc, Jesus comes to visit them (I guess supposedly that's part of what he was doing during his dirt nap? Or possibly after he left again, it's not clear), and they all convert to Christianity, which they think is clearly the natural evolution of Judaism. Well, at the end of the book, all of them become wicked, in a kind of weird pseudo-apocalyptic series of events. They are all cursed with dark skin, until such time as they repent for their ancestors sins and return to the gospel.

But of course, Mormons being the good and kind people they are, they want everyone to receive the blessings of God and be brought into the houses of Israel etc etc. And it isn't the fault of those poor little Indigenous children that their distant ancestors turned away from God and became wicked.

So what's the natural answer? Well, Mormons are real big on missionary work, as we all know. But apparently that wasn't enough in this case.

Because the Mormon church has been one of the big players in abducting as many Indigenous children as possible, in order to indoctrinate them into being good Mormons, so that they can turn white again and be blessed. My mother remembers hearing talks about this in the 70s and 80s. The church literally had a "Lamanite Adoption Program," where families in the church were encouraged to get as many Indigenous children as possible away from their families and not let them be reunited until they were fully assimilated and ready to go back and proselytize about how wonderful the church is.

The church leadership literally talked about how wonderful it was to see these children becoming whiter. Actually whiter. Like, saying that when they finally saw them with their families again, it was beautiful how much paler they were.

I'm pretty sure this program has been officially ended, but it doesn't take a genius to speculate about who might be behind the curtains on the movement in the western US to gut the ICWA....

So yeah. Next time someone tries to tell you that the Mormons are just harmless weirdos, please remember that they're an antisemitic cult that advocates for the forced assimilation of Indigenous children to help them escape the cursed brown skin of their ancestors.

[thevillainswhore]

Loverboy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Bucky, a lovesick, pining super soldier, vows to keep his feelings for you a secret — no matter how obvious his crush may seem. Those plans are ruined between a meddling Sam, an embarrassing fall, and a visit to the medbay with you.

Warnings: Avengers AU, Bucky’s POV, fluff, crack (my lame attempt at comedy), suggestive thoughts (no smut), just our boy being a lovesick little bean with a big ol’ crush.

Author’s Note: Dividers by @saradika. Proofread by @buckys-wintersoldier, thank you so much sweetie, I love you!! This was inspired by a wonderful request from @prettyboy56, thank you so much! Hope you enjoy x

“Hi, Bucky.” 

Instantly, he sputtered over his mouthful of cereal, eyes watering from his food going down the wrong way. 

Bucky knew that melodic voice before his gaze even reached its owner. You entered the kitchen, wiggling your fingers at him in greeting. 

Clearing his throat, he swiped his bowl to the side, his breakfast now forgotten about, and directed his attention solely onto you. “Hi—um h—hello, doll.” 

The muscles of your cheeks lifted up to your eyes in a smile that made Bucky swoon. Hard.

Your eyes fell to Sam then, who stood in the corner, fresh from a workout with a shit eating on his face. “Good morning, Samuel.” 

“Mornin’, beautiful. How did you sleep?” 

Bucky fought the growl rising in his throat, the unprecedented possessiveness caving its way through its internal barriers in your presence. 

You grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and closed the door, leaning your back against it to take a big gulp. 

“Not bad at all.” You licked your lips, ridding the dryness that came from a long slumber before your eyes lit up. “Oh, by the way! I drank some of that tea you recommended. It’s helped a bunch—”

Bucky zoned out while you continued to express your gratitude to Sam. He couldn’t help the way his eyes dilated as he rested his head in the palm of his vibranium hand, a lovesick sigh escaping his lips. You were just so gorgeous – a deity in human form right in front of his own very eyes. Bucky had never considered himself so lucky in all his time on earth to be within your vicinity. 

In his own world of oggling, Bucky didn’t notice how the conversation fell short between you and Sam. Neither did he realise how the two of you were staring at him; you with concern and Wilson smothering his laughter with his hand. 

“Bucky? Sweetheart?” He finally registered that you were speaking to him and almost choked, again, on his own spit.

“Mhm?” Bucky murmured, drunk off your attention. 

You smiled once again, so devastatingly beautiful that his left arm whirred in stupor. “Are you okay? You feeling alright?” Not waiting for a response, you walked over to him and Bucky almost let his eyes roll to the back of his head when you lifted your wrist to his forehead. “Jeez, you’re a little hot, Buck.” 

Sam keeled over in hysterics, unable to keep his composure any longer. Meanwhile, a bright red blossom of colour rose up from the skin of Bucky’s neck all the way up to his cheeks. 

Had Bucky not been embarrassingly infatuated by you, the throwaway comment wouldn’t have had any effect on him. But this was you. The woman who had the ability to make him melt on the spot. 

While logic and a basic level of common sense screamed at him that you were talking about his temperature, his mind could only conjure up the fact you had called him hot. 

Bucky saw your mouth moving, however he couldn’t concentrate on the sound of the words coming out of it. You were still touching him, patting his cheeks and sweeping the tendrils of hair that had fell out from behind his ears out of his face. The close proximity of your bodies threw him through a loop and without even realising, his thighs spread further, subconsciously begging you to forego all boundaries and smother yourself against him. 

Gently tapping his nose three times, you managed to gain his full attention again. “You seem out of it, sweetie. Maybe you should go down to the medbay. See if you’re coming down with a fever or something.” 

Sam blew out a breath of air. “Yeah, because that’s what’s wrong with him.” 

You threw a lighthearted glare his way before bringing your eyes back to Bucky. “Promise me you’ll get seen to?” 

How could he refuse when you asked so sweetly? “Anything you want.” He vowed sincerely. 

Scrunching your nose, you chucked his chin and whispered under your breath, “Good boy.”

Bucky almost whimpered when you withdrew your hands and stepped back. He so desperately wanted to follow you and nudge your arm until you paid attention to him once more. Your touch was fire and a cool breeze all at once. Electricity that created static across his stubbled cheek, yet also stoked a warmth through his entire body.  

Peace. He’d never felt anything like it. Never before felt drunk from just the delicate essence of a perfume or experienced the loosening of his limbs, relaxing until his legs felt like jelly whenever you so much as cast him a glance. 

You grabbed a piece of fruit from the table, ready to go down to the gym and train. “Catch you later, Sam,” you called over your shoulder. Meeting Bucky’s eyes a final time, you winked while you headed for the elevator. “Bye, sweetheart.”  

Bucky’s gaze was glued to you, following you out hopelessly until you were completely out of sight. 

He was fucked — well and truly out of his depth. 

Sam crossed his arms and smirked. “You are down bad, man.” 

Bucky swiped a hand over his face, sighing deeply. “Fuckin’ tell me about it.” 

“This is serious.” Sam sobered up, his lips softening into an honest smile. 

With an embarrassingly loud thud against the island countertop, Bucky let his head drop. “I have no idea what to do, Sam. I thought this crush would have passed by now but it’s been months.”

“Well,” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Have you even tried asking her out?” 

“And why would I do that?” Bucky asked, genuinely confused. 

Sam sputtered over his words. “What do you mean—Because that’s what people do when they like someone, you dumbass!” 

Bucky had lost enough braincells daydreaming about you constantly. He didn’t need to be told what he already knew. But the pressure of asking you out to then have a chance of being rejected? He would never come back from that. “Yeah, no thanks,” he mumbled.

“Come on, man. What’s the worst that could happen?” Sam asked. 

Bucky lifted his head up and huffed sarcastically. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe she could turn me down and rip my heart out into little pieces, so much that I would hide out in my room for the rest of eternity never to be seen again?” 

“Now you’re just being dramatic.”

Bucky sighed longingly. “Let me wallow in my misery alone, Sam.” 

“Why? So you can spend your days staring at her with your googly eyes and drooling over her.” 

“I have never drooled over her,” Bucky snarled. 

A twinkle shone in Sam’s eye, a mischievous grin donning his face. “Then what’s that on your chin?” 

Bucky’s eyes widened and he quickly brought his hand up to his face to check if he did in fact have any wetness coating his mouth. Finding none, he looked back to Sam with a scowl. “I hate you.”

Sam shook his head with laughter. “You shouldn’t make it so easy to tease you, loverboy.”  

With a growl, Bucky lifted from his seat and stormed out of the kitchen. 

The irritating voice followed him. “Don’t forget training tomorrow morning, loverboy!” 

The sun was shining over the compound the next morning and so came the bright idea from Steve that all exercise activities should be held outside. While the recruits in training buffed up on their sparring with the Captain, the rest of the avengers worked out as they saw fit. 

As usual, Sam took any opportunity possible to annoy Bucky, which brought them together, running laps around the outdoor track. 

“When are you gonna man up and ask her out then, Cyborg? Pretty girl ain’t gonna be available forever.” 

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure why he didn’t run ahead of Sam. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t. Maybe the pace he kept alongside Wilson allowed him to stare at you so clearly in your tight workout leggings and sports bra as sweat sensually rolled over your skin. Maybe. 

“I’m not asking her out, Sam. Drop it.” 

Sam huffed out an annoyed breath. “Listen, man. It’s not as if you’ve got nothing going for you. As much as you’re a grumpy shit, you’ve got them blue eyes the chicks love. Gets them all gooey when you give them intense eye contact, y’know?” He reluctantly added, “And they dig the brooding, bad boy, leather jacket vibe.”

Bucky let out a rare smile within the presence of Sam. “You tryna hit on me, Wilson?” 

“Look, all I’m saying is you have a chance.” Sam slyly glanced over the field. “And if you don’t quit fuckin’ around, that chance is gonna disappear.”  

The smile instantly dropped from Bucky’s face. “What do you mean by that?” 

Sam’s signature smirk came back with vengeance. “Your girls lookin’ kinda cute today. So I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you ain’t the only one who’s got their eye on her.” 

Naturally, Bucky followed his instinct and let his eyes look over at you. You were a fucking wonder, of course he knew that. But heeding Sam’s ominous warning, Bucky allowed his gaze to venture out, only allowing you to blur into the background for a couple of seconds while he took stock of the other male, and female, recruits. 

Low and behold, plenty of other people wantonly stared at you while you completed your circuit, almost salivating over their barely concealed pining. As much as Bucky hated to admit it, the fucker was right. You were the pinnacle of everyone’s attention. 

With the way you were bending over, squatting and looking like an angel amidst the perspiration the sun brought on, Bucky wasn’t sure if he could actually blame anyone for it. 

That didn’t stop the ugly, green eyed beast within him that wanted to tear everyone’s eyes out for daring to glimpse at you. 

It was silly, he knew he had no right to feel any sort of possessive nature for you. Unfortunately, you didn’t belong to him. Still, he couldn’t control the deep rooted urges that whispered the kinds of fun he’d have gouging out eyeballs that looked where they weren't supposed to. 

Knowing he had stirred the pot enough, Sam figured it was time to try and hit the final nail in the coffin in order to make his friend move his ass. “Y’know what gives you an advantage though, man?” 

Bucky continued to death stare the surrounding agents, while keeping up with his steady jog. “What’s that?”

“Guess who’s making eyes at you right now.” 

At breakneck speed, Bucky snapped his head back around to you, only to indeed find you staring at him with a fire in your eyes and your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. 

A violent shudder ran down his spine and for a moment, the whole world stopped on its axis, allowing Bucky to revel in a daydream brought to life. 

That was until his mind snapped him back into the present. The super soldier was majestic on his feet in a fight, graceful yet utterly dangerous out on the field even with the pressure a mission came with. 

However to his utter bewilderment, you happened to be the most dangerous being he had ever come across, because in all of his years as a trained, professional assassin, Bucky had never, never, tripped over his own feet. 

And so, inevitably, Bucky’s face ungracefully met the asphalt of the outside track with an audible thunk. 

A collective of gasps, oo’s, and ah’s, rang around the large group. Bucky could physically feel the coating of red, hot embarrassment climbing up to his now scratched cheeks.  

Bucky couldn’t see the look of shame and pity on Sam’s face as he dropped his head into his hands. All he was capable of was fantasizing faking his own death and moving far, far away where no one who witnessed his fall could ever find him.  

With a painful, deep groan, Bucky managed to roll himself over. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes and allow himself to accept reality yet and so he kept them closed, waiting for the ground to swallow him up or for the beaming sun to slowly incinerate him, melt him into the ground with his shame and dignity. 

But instead of either of those, a shadow casted over him, the harsh brightness behind his eyelids dulling down. Slowly, he peeked an eye open, only for mortification to kick him in the gut when he found you standing over him. 

“You alright there, Soldier?” Your hands were set on your hips, those deliciously curved grooves of your body that he had shamelessly stared at one too many times during gym sessions. 

“Mhm,” he gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing roughly. “Just peachy.” 

Even though you’d just seen him eat dirt, in front of hundreds of learning recruits and the rest of the avengers, your smile was kind as you held out your hand. “Need some help?” 

Bucky took your offering, sliding his clammy palm into your dry one and hoisted himself up with your grip. He hadn’t needed your help, he was a super soldier with a metal arm; an agility and strength beyond normal human ability. But he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to feel your soft skin against his. 

He couldn’t look you in the eye as he stood up, aware of your gaze glued to him. “Th-Thanks.” 

“It’s not a problem,” you said. “Although, you’ve got a few nasty looking cuts on your cheeks.” 

Bucky brought his left hand up to his face, hissing when the cool vibranium stung the open wounds. “Ah, it’s nothin’—don't worry about it. Nothing a few hours won’t fix.” 

You shook your head fondly. “Well, how about I walk you to the infirmary and we get some ointment on them? It wouldn’t hurt to be cautious.” 

Bucky choked on his own spit and snapped his eyes to yours. “W-We?” 

Your smile was blinding — so beautiful with an ability to stop time. At least for him anyway. “Yeah, why not? It looks like you could use a hand—y’know, since you’re a little clumsy on your feet today.” The cheeky smirk that followed your words almost sent him to an early grave.

His cheeks blazed. Bucky was sure he looked utterly stupid, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. But he couldn’t help the effect you had on him. “I um—I— ha, I guess.” 

Your eyes glinted mischievously. “I’ll take that as a yes?” 

Not trusting his voice to hold steady, Bucky simply nodded. 

“Great,” you approved. “Just one question though, are we going to keep holding hands on the way?”

Looking down to the space between you, Bucky felt his mouth dry when he saw that he hadn’t yet released his hand from yours. “I’m—oh fuck—I’m so sorry.” 

Still, he made no move to slacken his grip. 

You tightened your lips, and he knew you were willing yourself not to laugh for his sake. Sam would have a fucking field day with this. 

Though to his surprise, instead of pulling away like he expected you to, you began pulling him along, hands still interweaved. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, Bucky.”  

His name on your lips was akin to a siren singing her song; dragging helpless seamen to their deaths. A thought crossed his mind then, that he didn’t think he would mind so much if he sank to his reckoning, not if your voice was the last thing he ever heard. 

“Okay.” Bucky followed you blindly, eyes glued to your conjoined hands and disbelieving of his luck. 

You had led the way towards the medbay and found a cozy, private room that the doctors used for small injuries. Bucky sat impatiently on the side of the medical bed, twiddling his thumbs and fidgeting restlessly. Never had he been so close to you, alone. 

Bucky internally prayed with all his faith that you couldn’t hear the rapid staccato of his heartbeat. He was sure if he was hooked up to a monitor, the doctors would be thoroughly concerned about his health. 

Finally having gathered all the supplies you deemed necessary along with a first aid box, you walked back over to the bed and dumped everything next to him. 

“So,” you began, an uneasy conspiratorial tone to your voice that weirdly reminded him of Sam. “Wanna tell me what happened out there?”  

“I—,” Bucky sheepishly scratched the back of his neck while his cheeks bloomed crimson red. “I must’ve just tripped over my own feet.” 

He tried to shrug off his nonchalance, but he knew by your raised eyebrow you didn’t believe him. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing a big, strong super soldier such as yourself has any trouble finding his footing.”

Before Bucky could muster up any other excuse but the truth, you ripped open the packet of a medical wipe and warned him, “I’m sorry. This is gonna sting.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said with bravado. 

Bucky wasn’t prepared for the twinkle in your eye as you mumbled under your breath, “I’m sure it isn’t, Sargeant.” 

The breath got knocked out of his lungs. Oh did that do things to him. 

Suddenly, vivid images of you spread out on his bed wearing nothing but his old army hat while you screamed out his rank ran wild in his mind. 

Luckily, you were too preoccupied with cleaning the dried blood of his wound to notice him discreetly palming the bulge in his athletic shorts, trying to hide the effect you had on him. 

“Are you certain there is absolutely no other reason as to why I’m playing nurse right now, then?” Your feline grin was sexy and scary. “No possible distractions that led you off path?” 

There was no way you could read minds, right? Bucky doubled down on his denial, shaking his head from side to side and letting the length of his hair hide the truth in his eyes. 

“I’ll take your word for it then.” You finished up and reached for the healing gel. “I know the serum enhances your ability to repair the cuts, but I’d still like to use this.” Looking into his eyes, you asked, “Only as long as you’re okay with that, of course.” 

Time stopped and the two of you were caught in the other’s gaze. It was such a small gesture, one you probably didn’t even realise meant the world to him. But you asked him for permission on something that would affect his autonomy and if Bucky didn’t already have a hundred ways he was falling for you, that would have been the cherry on top. 

“Yeah,” he breathed airily. “Yeah, I’m good with it, doll.” 

Unseen to him before, you ducked your head and sweeped your hair behind your ear and if Bucky didn’t know any better, he was sure you were shy. 

He couldn’t help the large grin he sported. He was always so enamored with you, quick to falter in your presence and become unsure of himself. Right now though, a small bout of bravery returned. “Ready when you are,” he cheekily murmured. 

You hastily rushed to compose yourself. Clearing your throat, you squeezed the tube of gel, allowing a small drop of the cool liquid on the tip of your finger and stepped between his legs to gently dab it onto his cuts. 

“Okay, you’re all fixed up now.” With a last swipe of his forehead, you smiled. “Don’t worry, Buck. You still look handsome.” 

He tugged his plump bottom lip between his teeth. “You think I’m handsome?”

You giggled. “I would be blind if I didn’t.” 

Bucky blinked at you slowly, still processing your words and trying to calm the excited bubble rising in his throat. 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, don’t act all coy, Bucky. You must have heard the whispers of the recruits. They stare at you all the time, whispering and giggling to each other.” 

With the most confidence he had ever mustered up, he responded, “Truthfully, I’m too busy staring at someone else to notice, doll.” 

The shock of his sudden boldness was glaringly obvious on your face — it was you this time who held your mouth open, lost for words. 

Bucky’s body screamed at him to tell you that he was in fact head over heels for you. That had he known falling over in front of the full compound would lead him within a hair’s breadth away from you, he’d do it all over again. 

But you seemed to recover after a couple of seconds, clearing your throat and making yourself busy to avoid his eyes. “So, I’ve got another question.” 

“Oh?” Bucky cocked his head. 

“Yeah.” You smiled while placing everything back into the first aid box as you found it. “I’ve been hearing a few rumours around the compound recently.” 

Bucky’s stomach dropped with dread. 

“You wouldn’t know anything about those, would you?” 

“I—” Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. “I have no idea what you mean.” 

“Oh,” you hummed. “So it’s not true then? You don’t have a crush on me?” 

Fuck.

Panicking, Bucky scoffed, though it came off sounding too pathetic, too breezy. “Me? Have a crush on you? That’s—Ha! Nope. No way. Not at all.” 

He watched as you nodded to yourself. Internally, he was begging for the floor to swallow him while he cringed at his own stupidity. 

“Well,” you shrugged. “That’s a shame, I guess.”  

Bucky’s head shot up, eyes wide and shock written over his features. “E-Excuse me?” 

“Oh, it's nothing really.” There was a sparkle in your eye that screamed trouble. “You said you didn’t have a crush on me, so it doesn’t matter.” 

Within seconds, Bucky jumped off the bed and leapt towards you, not even noticing how he had grabbed your hands. “Doll, please. You can’t leave a guy hanging like that.” 

Playfully rolling your eyes, you dramatically exhaled and decided to put him out of his misery. “Leave you hanging? Damn, Buck. It’s not as if I’ve been waiting patiently for you to ask me out for months or anything like that.” 

The air became humid and stuffy and suddenly the clothes attached to Bucky’s body felt too tight and restricting. “You—What now?” 

You rolled your lips inwards, trying to smother your laughter. “Bucky, honey,” you gently murmured. “I’ve heard what the others have been gossiping about. I’ve definitely heard Sam telling the team about your crush on me.” 

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “That fuckin’ punk.” 

You squeezed his hands reassuringly and offered him a warm smile when he looked at you. “I’ve just been waiting to hear it from the horse's mouth himself.” 

Bucky’s eyes darted between yours, trying to find any hint of decievement. “You’re serious.”

“Mhm,” you whispered. “Deadly.” 

It took him a couple of seconds to let the new information sink in. Clearing his throat, Bucky untightened his fierce grip on your hands and hesitantly slid them down to latch onto your waist. “So,” he mumbled. “Say if I asked you out to dinner tonight… You wouldn’t tell me I’m a fool and break my heart into a million pieces?” 

Butterflies erupted in Bucky’s stomach at the sensation of your hands sliding over his chest to rest against his neck. “No, Bucky,” you chuckled. “I would tell you that I’m looking forward to our first date, tonight. Nowhere fancy, just casual. Six o’clock sharp.” 

Bucky smiled, all beaming and ecstatic. “I wouldn’t dream of being late.” 

“Good.” You leaned up onto your tip toes and ghosted your lips over his ear. “See you very soon then, Sargeant.” 

Tingles shot down Bucky’s spine and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He fought tooth and nail to crush the moan that rose up his throat and in his internal struggle, he missed how you’d sneakily slipped out of his hold and started to saunter towards the door. 

He almost begged you to come back; the thought of having to wait for you until the evening was unbearable. But those pesky butterflies that invaded his stomach came back strong and fierce as his gaze became glued to the sway of your hips and the sweet perfume that lingered in your exit. 

“Oh,” you stopped suddenly at the doorway and looked over your shoulder. “One more thing. Don’t go tripping over again, you hear me?” You raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Can’t have you falling for me.”

Your damn smirk was intoxicating and Bucky thought himself the luckiest fella alive to be the one taking you out. He licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have a little trouble with that request, Ma’am.” 

The clench of your thighs was unmissable. The way your eyes dilated called to him. Bucky had more game than he realised and he kept that new information tucked safely into the corner of his mind for a later date. 

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to. Your actions told Bucky everything he needed to know and so he wiggled his fingers with a huge grin locked onto his face and watched you longingly as you left his sight. 

The minute he couldn’t hear your footsteps any longer, Bucky pumped his fist up into the air and began dancing on the spot. 

In his own bubble of happiness, he didn’t hear the footsteps of a new person entering the hallway. Only when an amused clearing of the throat echoed from the doorway did Bucky abruptly stop his dancing and slowly swivel to the intruder. 

Sam stood there, all cocky and mirthful with a shit eating grin on his face. “About time you bagged the girl, man. Dont’cha think?” 

Instantly, Bucky growled and grabbed the closest apparatus. With a pair of medical scissors, he charged towards Sam, who was quick to wipe the smirk off his face and skid out of the room with a scream. 

[gyuwoncheol]

15 Minutes

Pair: Scoups x f!reader

Genre: Smut, Concert!Cheol, husband!Cheol, 18+ only (MDNI).

Summary: Despite time constraints, no one is as committed to get you pregnant than Cheol getting ready for a concert.

Warnings: Concert!Cheol, daddy kink, breeding, multiple orgasms, quickie sex, fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe, children), creampie, public sex, marking, wall sex, dirty talk, getting “caught” while having sex

WC: 1.2k

Author’s Note: may be persuaded to write a part 2 to this. I’m back to my pussy drunk/breeding kink!Cheol brain rot.

Read part 2 here: Room Service

Smut directly under the cut.

“FUCK!” You gasped as Seungcheol inserted a second finger inside you, pumping it as fast as he did with the first one. You bit your lips harshly to suppress the loud moan begging to come out, but you knew that if you wanted to save face, you had better keep quiet.

“Cmon baby, let me hear you” he said, the tone in his voice perfectly matching the smirk plastered on his face as he pinned you against the wall. You glared at him angrily before squeezing your eyes shut, reveling in the feeling of his fingers expertly massaging your cunt.

When you flew in to visit Cheol on tour and confessed to him you were ready to try for a baby, you already knew he’d be a giddy and horny mess who’d make sure you’d end your trip pregnant. But you didn’t expect just how much he was committed to it, making up excuses to get you alone, dragging you to the closest secluded place he could find and fucking you full of his cum. And that’s how you ended up in this tiny unused dressing room by the end of the hall. It was bare, save for one set of drawers and a full length mirror to your right. Just yesterday, on day one of the show, he had his way with you right before soundcheck, in the VIP suite on the 3rd level that overlooked the arena.

“You were so loud yesterday and suddenly now you wanna be quiet?” He taunted, leaving a trail of love bites on your neck

“Cheol!” You hissed, “people are actually gonna hear over here!”

“So? everyone already knows i’m trying to get you pregnant” he said matter of factly, not a single care in the world

“Still!” you wanted to argue more, you really did, but the way his long fingers deliciously curled inside you to graze your most sensitive spot had you bucking your hips and mewling loudly to your husband’s delight, orgasm immediately hitting you from nowhere.

Seungcheol pressed his palm to your clit as his fingers continued to move in you, coaxing your orgasm for your full pleasure. “So good for me, baby”

“Scoups!” You heard two loud voices right outside the locked door, one you could make out as Joshua’s and the other probably a staff’s. Regardless, you froze at the sound, hand immediately clutching onto Cheol’s wrist right by your cunt to still his movements. “Vernon just finished with makeup, when Chan finishes, you’re the only one left.”

Much to your horror, Seungcheol replied with a loud “okay” through the door, confirming to the boys that you were definitely in that room doing exactly what you’re doing

“Be done in 15 minutes!” A stern voice called. Yup, definitely their manager.

“I’m sure he can finish in 10” Joshua laughed loudly before jokingly banging the door once.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes, at the younger’s tease, “Fuck off!”

“More like fuck her!”

“I will!” He called out just as you heard the steps outside move farther away

“Babe!” You glared at your husband. Your face and ears beet red at the exchange of Cheol and his best friend. Now would really be a good time for the earth to swallow you whole.

A loud whine escaped your throat at the sudden empty feeling when Cheol withdrew his fingers, but before you could even scold him again, his hands were under your thighs to hoist you up against the wall. “Sorry baby, but we gotta make this quick” he rushed before sinking you down on his hard length, your eyes immediately rolling to the back of your head at the intrusion. You weren’t even aware he had already undone his pants or stick his dick out, but you couldn’t be bothered figuring that out, not when your pussy was trying to fit in your husband’s huge cock.

There were 2 things you were thankful for at this moment: one, that your husband made you cum a few minutes ago so that the slide of his dick wasn’t as painful; and two, his strong and most solid body that kept you secured between him and the wall. God knows your knees wouldn’t be able to keep you upright with the way he’s just sheathed himself in you.

Seungcheol was running out of time but he was no quitter, after two slow pumps in, he was thrusting in you at a fast pace, eager to reach his release before he needs to be on the makeup chair and ready for day 2 of their concert.

“Fuuuuuuck yeeeees” you drawled out as the pain of the stretch had now turned into pleasure only your husband could give.

“Cmon baby, give me one more, yeah?”

“Y-yes, daddy!” Your dropped your forehead on his shoulder as you searched a way to ground yourself but hearing you call him daddy only had Cheol grow more feral than he already was.

“Gonna pump you full like you want, baby. Make you a mommy” he growled, now bouncing you up and down to meet his thrusts perfectly, the motion hitting your gspot at every hit.

“R-right there, daddy! Ri-ight th-there!” You stammered as Cheol pistoned his hips in you, desperate to have you reach your second high before he does.

You got pressed even tighter to the wall as Seungcheol’s large hand squeezed both your cheeks, turning your head to face the mirror “look at you, so fucking ruined already and you don’t even have my cum yet”

“Daddy, please!” You moaned in full volume, not at all caring anymore for anyone who can hear you.

“Really want my babies, huh? Don’t worry, you’ll be overflowing with my cum tonight, darling”

You nodded eagerly as you looked at Cheol through the reflection of the mirror. He was right, you looked ruined. You could make out the white ring of your juices that settled on the base of his cock as he impaled your fluttering hole. The hand that was once on your face had now snaked in between you as he pinched your clit hard enough before pressing circles that had the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Shit!” You screamed when you felt your orgasm wash over you in immense pleasure, triggering your husband’s own release to paint your inner walls white.

“Oh my goood” Seungcheol’s voice shook as he trembled beneath you, head falling backwards at the feeling of your pussy’s tight grip on his cock.

After staying silent a good while, just processing the orgasms you both had, Seungcheol slowly let your feet touch the ground, kissing you softly on your face and your neck, leaving you in a giggly mess as he smoothed down your shirt. When he pulled out of you, he made quick work to tuck his softening member back in his pants. His finger was quick enough to catch the glob of cum that dripped out of you before plugging it back in your cunt, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Now, now. How am i gonna make you a mommy if you don’t keep my cum in you?” He chastised, a devilish grin across his face as he pulled your panties up before licking his finger clean. “you’ll keep it in for daddy, won’t you?”

It wasn’t a question, you knew that much. If anything, it was a threat. “Y-yes” you stuttered.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.” you confirmed with doe eyes, squeezing your legs tight as Seungcheol buttoned up your jeans.

“Good” Your husband grinned, a hand reaching to the back of your head as he drove you against the wall again, kissing you feverishly “you better still be full of my cum when i fuck you after the show”

Your moan at his words were effectively cut off by another loud bang on the door as Joshua’s fist collided with the hard wood. “Cheol! Make up! Now!”

Part 2: Room Service

[youngbounty]

Not Letting DamiJon Lose!

I'm not letting the DamiJon Nation lose without a fight, so here is my promo. Why vote DamiJon?

Childhood

These two practically grew up together as the Super Sons. They are each other's closest companions. Jon was the only person that stuck by Damian when no one else did. Even when Damian was about to kill KG Beast, Jon never turned against him. He was the only person that truly reached out to him just to make sure Damian was okay.

After this incident, Jon left the Legion of Super Heroes, hinting at the possibility that he sacrificed his membership for his friend. It could be for other reasons, but considering Saturn Girl kicked Damian out upon his arrival, I'd like to believe the Legion wasn't too fond of him.

2. "I know the sound of your heartbeat"

Even in the very comic where Jon Kent starts dating Jay, it's clear which boy he's much closer with. How can you not see sparks? These two were clearly made for each other both heart and soul!

3. Babysitting Lizzie

These two practically co-parent Lizzie Prince, the daughter of Wonder Woman in Tom King's run, from when she's five until she became the next Wonder Woman. They are still just as close and never change by the time Damian becomes Batman.

4. Even in Other Worlds

When Jon visits the Injustice Earth, he never gives up on Damian. No matter how evil Damian may become, Jon will always see the good in him. There is such a deep understanding these two have for each other.

5. The Promise

The one promise they made was to always protect each other. Damian was so genuine in that promise that he took off his mask. He hardly ever does this, even when making promises. It's clear Damian cares so much for Jon that he will abandon the Teen Titans to protect him.

Even going back to "I know the sound of your heartbeat," Jon said this when Damian was off the grid. This means Jon was the only nonparticipant of the Lazarus Tournament who knew where Damian was when he was off the grid. He's also the only person Damian has ever visited while off-grid, being that is when the Super Sons Special takes place.

6. This right here.

Also...

And...

So, let's get some votes for DamiJon. Co'mon, don't let DickBru catch up! Let's so our love! Vote here for DamiJon!

https://www.tumblr.com/ao3-top-batfam-ships-bracket/755738460459089921/top-ao3-batfamily-ships-bracket-round-6

[hoodedjelly]

my Jenny, Tuck, Brad, Shelden, and Vega older designs ^__^

i'm watching mlaatr, still not done, i think i got like 10 more eps (and if i'm being transparent i skipped around eps... i just wanted to see vega...). And i'm absolutely loving the show!!!! i love these characters a lot, didn't like Shelden at first i'm going to be honest, #1 Shelden hater for a bit there. but he chilled out in season two and i started to ship breldon with that too so now i just love him so much.

more about my personal headcanons:

Jenny: - I am under the belief that she is transgender. Jenny was made genderless, so her deciding to be a girl was strictly her choice and i believe that makes her trans. (She's also a lesbian) - she did grow a bit, im not gonna explain how idc really i just liked her being a taller lady :-) - she has A LOT of different cute outfits and hair styles, honestly too much to draw. she never transforms back into her base show outfit when crime fighting, she just fights in her cute summer dress she don't care. - her and vega are dating grrgrgrrrr - when vega is in rule she makes it so there is complete free access between earth and cluster prime for citizens in both places. - I say that cause i think when jenny is older she moves in with vega, technically living in cluster prime but visits earth like everyday. And brad/shelby/tucker/wakeman visit cluster prime - Jenny also hangs out with the nicktoons unite gang, but i deffo feel like its just that secondary friend group that you don't talk to with for months. when you talk again its the same goofiness as before - i think danny calls for her help when he needs it (also manny) Tuck: - he is still a little shit but we love him - adhd boy - questioning cis (he/him) - he got into robotics/stem and builds little silly things - with that, he gets help from Shelby - pretty much just a silly teen, he's on the internet a lot and has "cringe" interests - but idk he's having fun and being silly and finding himself (those interests is stuff like sonic and among us) Shelden(Shelby) - honestly kinda nervous about ppl thoughts on my Shelden, idk it makes so much sense in my brain - hits you with the transfem beam (she/they) Pansexual (she just wants anyone type of vibe) - I think when jenny is visiting vega often that leaves Shelby and Brad hanging out alone a lot. which they don't mind honestly, they are actually good friends! - but during that they just get closer and start catching feelings. Shelby eventually lets go of her feelings about jenny and realizes they were a real jerk and weirdo to her. brad helps them through that and eventually her realizing she's trans. blah blah they in love and kiss at some point. - Shelby is also a furry lmaooo her fursona is a cat.

Brad: - bisexual cis man (he/him) - Still his old brad self if i'm being honest. - totally forgot to say i think all 3 of them go off to college together (even though jenny doesn't have to i feel like she would prob want to just for the experience, but tell me if you think differently i'm still unsure) - i really don't know what else to say sorry brad! he's literally just as silly as ever man. he's just also gay - i will say here i feel it takes a lot longer for shelby and brad to start dating then jenny and vega. they got that slow burn kinda shit going on, since a lot of that is shelby being confused about her feelings. and jenny and vega just hit it off right away if im being honest, very high school sweethearts. - (also i think shelby makes brad make a fursona to match hers, so brad got a dog fursona)

Vega: - Lesbian cis (she/her) - That ending of her just ruling cluster prime was just so crazy to me cause like, aint she like 16? - i think she has a lot of stressed nights and fearing she's not doing the right thing for her people, and jenny tries to help as much she can - that is why jenny visits so much, she wants to help her. - very much got those nights were she accidently falls asleep at her desk, jenny finding her and giving her a blanket and a kiss goodnight - it's not like she's unhappy, she is actually very very passionate about her work and wants to NOT be like her mom - and yeah she deffo goes to robo therapy for the stuff with her mom. - i think it's a conflict where vega is scared her mom is gonna come back and jenny has to reassure her that if she does they'll get rid of her for good.

imma be honest a lot of my hcs are pretty half-baked and random things, im sure im going to think of more stuff in the future but that will be in different posts.

[amywritesthings]

war of clarity. / levi ackerman x f!reader

for @levievent #levimonth24. (day nine: soulmate au / day six: love at first sight)

pairing: captain levi ackerman x f!scout reader word count: 1.6k summary: They say finding your soulmate is like getting a migraine. When you've lived with chronic pain your whole life, the legends seem like a joke.

tags: soulmate au, love at first sight, mild language, reader has a chronic pain/illness condition, migraines/headaches credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

They say when you meet your soulmate, the pain is worse than a migraine.

A rush of blood to the head so twisting, blinding, that the colors of the world bleed together and bleach white; then suddenly, clarity.

Funny enough, you’ve suffered through your entire life with ear-splitting headaches.

(Call it a cruel twist of fate.)

If this were the case — if being in pain from your earliest known memories in childhood all the way into enlisting in the cadets meant that you were playing the long game to experience the myth of finding The One — then you’d be quick to joke that everyone you’ve ever met could be your soulmate.

The girls in your bunk that offer to press a cold, wet rag to your forehead when the worst of your chronic illness hits — unlikely.

The boys failing at their ODM aptitude tests, where you zip by with flying colors — absolutely not.

You push—

Through training.

Through graduation.

Through choosing the Scouts, because for some reason it feels like the most noble option.

(The one that will make a difference, pushing past what’s beyond the Walls.)

So when you finally make it to the ranks, the emerald cloak draped across your taut shoulders like a badge of honor, you expect that continued dull ache in the base of your skull to follow you until your final days.

A comfort, really, to remind you that you’re still alive.

(If it’s quiet, then you’re probably dead.)

.

.

— —

.

.

  They call him Humanity’s Strongest.

That much you’ve heard through the grapevine; a man of unbelievable strength and resolve, an unstoppable myth in the very flesh. If there is anyone to strive towards, to look towards, it’s him. 

He’s resilient. Bold.

Lethal.

And you don’t care that he’s visiting your small squadron on the Special Operations in the early morning hours of this mundane Sunday, not when you’ve woken up with the most vile headache you’ve had in quite some time.

It takes all of the effort in the world to drag yourself out of your cot, breaking out in a cold sweat as you beg the pain to ease up a little.

The importance of this moment isn’t lost on you.

Special Ops is where you’ve hoped you’d end up.

After fighting tooth and nail to place within the top ten of your graduating class, you refuse to let your body win this fight.

Most of your squad has already scrambled outside, tripping over their knee-high boots and fastening worn leather in order to get a glimpse of Captain Levi.

You just barely make it out of the barracks in time for your visitor’s arrival, shrugging your tan cropped jacket over your shoulders with immense effort.

The sun.

(Why the fuck did it have to be sunny again?)

Nostrils flaring, you slowly make your way to the line-up of your comrades as they stand shoulders back, chins tall, to greet the incoming troop of horses.

“Attention!”

Your squad leader’s voice rings out, and you manage to step your way in line with the rest of your colleagues.

With considerable effort, you lift your chin and keep your eyes closed against the rays of the morning light.

Horses whinny as they come to a halt in the dehydrated earth beneath your boot.

Two or three octaves of grunts can be heard as the representatives from the Special Ops squad make their descent from their saddles.

A few minutes.

Just a few more minutes and you can return to the barracks where it’s cool, it’s darker, it’s—

“At ease,” a deeper, baritone voice rings out against your mental pep talk.

Bored, as if already disinterested in being here.

It forces your eyes to open, despite yourself.

White.

The sun seems blinding, like you’ve somehow lost your vision in the process of squeezing your eyes so tight — until the world returns.

When your eyes catch black fringe cascading over a gray, narrowed gaze, you let out an exhale you weren’t aware you were holding.

Your mind, oftentimes its own hurricane, eases to the eye of the storm.

And there is…

Nothing.

No pain in the base of your skull.

No sensitivity to the sun that beats down on the halved squad that has come to visit to discuss an upcoming mission that your squadron can assist with.

No jolting pain from a bird chirping, or the huffs of exertion exiting like clouds out of the horses’ mouths, or the murmured excitement from your colleagues that feel intimidating to be even near the man who turns on the heel of his boot to stare the six of you down.

It’s him.

It’s really him, that’s Captain Levi.

His bluish-gray eyes blink down the line of bodies willing to lay down their lives for the cause, acknowledging each person —

Until they find you.

You see it: the way his fist bunches against the leather reigns in his hand, how the muscles of his neck tense when his jaw clenches, the whites of his eyes growing as he stares.

Right. At. You.

Suddenly your stomach bottoms out, but not out of nausea — terror.

A rush of blood to the head so twisting—

No.

—blinding, that the colors of the world bleed together and bleach white—

It can’t be real.

—then suddenly—

The noise ceases.

All you can do is stare back.

.

.

— —

  Clarity.

— —

.

.

  The silence knocks you off your axis for the rest of the day.

Everyone is so much quieter than you anticipated.

What used to be deafening now sounds at a normal octave. 

Your colleagues aren’t boisterous, or inconsiderate, or even loud. 

They’re just a baseline of noise, a soundtrack to the soup you stare at in the mess hall without an appetite.

You even enjoy the dimly lit warmth of the lanterns surrounding the building where you sit alone.

The other five of your squad are bombarding a woman and a man — you think they’re called Petra and Oluo — about their adventures outside of the Walls.

You only realize someone is moving into your space when the wooden chair screeches against the floor of the hall, waking you from a trance.

When your chin lifts, you know who it is already.

You may know nothing about him, but your heart thrums like it does.

Like you’ve known him your whole life.

His jaw is set, expression in an eternal scowl as he drops down unceremoniously in front of you. You idle your hold on your spoon, no longer interested in swirling the utensil like you plan to take a bite.

It’s too much.

It’s so—

“You should eat.”

That honey-smooth voice breaks your thoughts. 

When he had first arrived in the courtyard on horseback, it was gruff. Devoid of emotion.

Now? It’s just under his breath, tickling your ears. Soft.

Concerned.

“Not really hungry,” you confess to the stranger — this Captain Levi — unable to look away.

You see his jaw tense before he inhales, slow and measured through his nose.

“If soup isn’t your ideal, then I can give you my share. Your leader went overboard with spoiling us.”

“Did they?”

“Yeah, shit’s annoying.”

You aren’t sure why you huff through your nose in amusement, but you do. The blunt curse takes you by surprise.

“Why’s it annoying to be offered the good food?” you ask without thinking.

“Because there’s no reason to give my squad special treatment,” he reasons shortly. “We’re all running into the same shitstorm no matter the rank.”

Oh.

So he’s admirable on top of his resilience.

Your heart feels like it’s growing on overdrive with each syllable, but you hold back anything beyond a bland smile in return.

Setting the spoon down, you let your palm rest against the wooden table’s surface.

Silence.

He’s still studying you like you’re a war plan, a strategy he has to conquer.

“I don’t understand,” he finally states out of the blue, baritone voice softer this time.

“What… don’t you understand, sir?”

“Don’t.”

The command causes your stomach to flip. Captain Levi’s shoulders deflate as he shakes his head.

“Don’t… use that, for me. Not when we—”

He cuts himself off, dropping his attention to your chin.

No.

Your lips.

“Not when we, what?” you ask after a pregnant pause, though you’re afraid to ask.

Visibly swallowing, the Captain shakes his head. “Thought maybe it was a myth.”

So he did feel it.

(An overwhelming flare that consumed the sun.)

“I thought it was, too,” you confess after some time, keeping the conversation quiet between the two of you. “I just — it never happened, for me. And I’m prone to migraines—”

“Migraines?” he repeats, eyes narrowing to temporary slits.

“Yeah,” you breathe humorlessly. “By legend, it meant that everyone was my soulmate.”

There.

Laid bare on the table between you, the word makes the confessional.

Two strangers with an invisible string, warring with the reality of clarity before them. You may not know this man, and he may not know you, but suddenly the only thing in your world that brings you peace is the sight of his face and the sound of his voice.

“But it was never them,” you add after a beat. “All my life, it was never them. The only person who ever broke through that haze was you.”

Yet Levi doesn’t flinch. 

All he does is nod, as if resigned to the idea, before reaching over for your hand. 

Wordlessly he picks it up from the table, uncurls your fingers, and places the spoon back in its center. For a minute he pauses, his thumb running along your knuckles as if to commit them to memory.

“Eat,” he urges like it’ll break him. “Eat, and tell me about yourself.”

.

authors note:

Thank you so much for reading! This one shot was unbeta'd and written in an hour as an exercise for Levi Month '24, so I hope you enjoyed my take on the soulmate au.

[todorokies]

WHAT LOVERS DO - mha boys

✶ ࣪˖࿐ * how you spend your long summer days with the mha boys…

featuring 𝝑𝑒 : izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugou, denki kaminari, shoto todoroki

contents 𝝑𝑒: tooth rooting fluff, gn!reader, a lil bit suggestive in bakugou’s, inspired by the song ‘what lovers do’ by maroon 5 ft sza, an installment for my ‘it’s not summer without you’ event

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ── IZUKU MIDORIYA

farmer markets, tulips & strawberry fields, lemonade refreshers served with cocktail umbrellas on the side.

summers with izuku …. heal your inner child with an electric sense of something to look forward to everyday.

the average day begins with him preparing breakfast for the both of you; pinkies interlocking under the dinner table with hazy glances towards one another.

bike rides to the local farmers market, the refreshing breeze coating your faces with soft giggles thrown into the air. but on some days, the rays of sunlight peak through his windows as a small groan ripples through his chest making you feel the vibrations from how close your bodies are intertwined.

“mmm, let’s stay in bed for today..” he’ll meekly murmur into the crook of your neck as he snuggles himself even closer than before into your figure.

izuku’s soft snores can be heard along with the faint sound of the air conditioner as you relish in the serendipity of it all, before falling back asleep soon.

the days where energy is coursing through your veins, you take it upon yourselves to become tourists in the very city you grew up in. visiting hidden gems of japan that consist of bookstores, cafes, and knickknack shops.

museum dates with izuku consist of him gleefully explaining the history behind every piece of artwork hung in the building. your fingers interlocking with his calloused ones as you both drag each other around the museum in awe of the beauties in the room— you included.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ── KATSUKI BAKUGOU

beach houses, fresh picked vegetables, fireworks & cuddles on the deck as the sun peaks above the horizon.

summers with bakugou …. opens your eyes to the possibility of living a beautiful mundane life with him by your side.

the curtly executed invite to his family’s beach house —that was obvious to conceal his uneasiness about your answer— falls off his lips and lingers in your ears.

hot sand on the soles of your feet, the sunshine reflecting back onto the earth casting a divine glow upon your skin, and plucking the nurtured vegetables in the garden for tonight’s dinner.

some nights when you can’t sleep, you creep out of your assigned bedroom at the dead of night, gentle sounds of the clashing ocean waves and the bright moonlight acts as a guide to snuggle yourself into his bed. with your arms delicately wrapping around his toned midriff, the blond tenses up.

hands already igniting a small spark until he inhales your scent, calming down instantaneously. he grumbles something under his breath about how ridiculous you are before he relaxes into your embrace.

other nights however, you both become light on your feet as you sneak out onto the deck. witty teases and jokes get thrown around until a small remark turns into a competition where you both end up in the pool racing each other.

of course he lets you win—or so he claims— soon your heart calms down, relishing in the cold droplets that coat your body. he quickly notices the way you’re shivering, swims up in your direction to position himself in between your legs as he lifts your calves around his torso.

you immediately wrap your arms around his neck for stability. “ya wanna warm up in the hot tub or f’me to do the job?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ── DENKI KAMINARI

late night adventures, water gun fights, treasure hunts & street festivals with the sound of music taking over the city.

summers with denki …. keep you on your toes with your adrenaline constantly pumping, there’s truly never a dull moment with him.

he’d watch a few episodes of outer banks and swear up and down there’s treasure hidden deep somewhere in japan, which results in taking trips to different parts of the city.

exploring places only you could dream of; train rides to kamakura to even booking an out of country flight with you.

at first, you’d assume it’s only for the treasure, but when he guides you through the cobbled streets of rome and to a secluded vineyard to watch the sun go down, displaying peachy hues and dreamy violet accents you knew he proved you wrong.

denki is infatuated with you. every minuscule detail of your existence lives fondly in his head. the way your pink pouty lips shimmer under lanterns and brightly coloured string of lights has his head spinning a bit.

but he keeps what’s left of his composure and neediness in check to enjoy the rest of the festival with you; feeding each other sweet traditional treats and new snacks to be tried for the first time.

once the night has calmed down and traffic has stilled, he finally finds the chance to show you his devotion. using the hand that rested inside your jean shorts pocket, he quickly spins you around to face him and plant a passionate kiss on your lips.

“i’ve been meaning to do that alllll night, babe.”



⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ── SHOTO TODOROKI

pottery classes, picnic dates, visits to the bookstore & stargazing in the park on top of a fuzzy blanket.

summers with shoto …. makes you appreciate the small bundles of joy that life has in store.

romantic gestures just come naturally to him. in his mind, he doesn’t think twice about getting you the pink orchids he saw in the window of a small business or working all day to make miniature sandwiches and desserts for a surprise picnic in the park.

shoto yearns to spend his days with you. he didn’t realize how much distance was put between the two of you because of the school year, and he wishes to make it up to you.

a spot he grew to love over time is a bookstore hidden deep in the nooks of japan. a safe spot for him to get away from all of the stress and havoc. a place where his peace can be found, a place where he can earnestly share his love for you.

soft whispers and gentle grazes across your fingers tips whenever he’d pass you a book for you to skim through. silently chuckling to himself once your bottom lip gets caught in between your teeth to concentrate.

shoto is a man of few words, but yet he’ll always have you swooning with the little he chooses to say: “you should read this one, it really reminded me of you.” or “this book cover is pretty…just like you.”

once the day comes to an end and the moon comes out to glisten brightly. you both venture to the park to watch the beautiful sky littered with stars. you’re in awe, pointing to a few constellations you’ve found, “the sky is so pretty tonight,” you gasp.

shoto, with his heart pounding and eyes fixated on you, fondly smiles. “yeah..so incredibly pretty.”

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

[yesihaveaobsession]

You Deserve Better

Alastor x female reader

Summary: The one and only helps you through a breakup?

A/N- Hope yall like it! This is for someone who needs comfort today!

Your boyfriend. You loved and cared for him. In fact, you had been together for seven years. You lived with each other on Earth when you were alive and well, and now together in Hell. But today was different. He cheated on you. Your loving boyfriend cheated and broke up with you.

Feeling completely despondent, you ended up curled under a blanket in your hotel room, crying your heart out. That's when Alastor 'teleported' into your room, finding you as a lump under the blanket and hearing your sobs.

"Oh... dear..." he said with a smile. You wanted to disappear, to vanish into thin air. You cursed your boyfriend mentally and everything around you. Alastor smiled; he had heard from the other residents what happened and was paying you a visit. You didn't want anything to do with him, so you cried harder because you knew he wouldn't help.

"I'm guessing your little lover boy cheated on you?" Alastor asked, tilting his head. Your voice was muffled by the blanket, but you sniffled and replied, "Broke up after seven years."

"Oh, how sad," he said in clear mockery. Not being in the mood, you said, "If you're going to be yourself with that self-mockery, then go away." You mumbled, sighed, and shifted under the blanket again.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... now, now, there's no need to be so rude," he said with the same smile, then teleported onto your bed next to you.

"Come on out now, my dear." He grinned and poked under the blanket, making you squirm more, letting out a whine. Giving up on the mini fight the two of you were having, he won and pulled the blanket down to see your face. "There she is." Alastor's eyes roamed over your defeated form and back to your face, where your mascara was smeared. The Radio Demon let out a chuckle.

"Quite the mess, aren't you?" To be fair, you were in a vulnerable state. Even a compliment would make you all mushy, so when he said this, you started to tear up and your bottom lip puffed out. Alastor had little patience for crying, but not much.

He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Oh, stop the tears, it's pathetic."

You sniffled. "He was right."

"Oh? And what did he say, dear?" Despite his tone, his touch was gentle. He gently wiped the mascara off your face.

"He said that I was weak and a no-good bitch who—"

Alastor interrupted by putting his clawed finger to your lips. You looked up at him with glassy eyes. "The only weak one is him. He never knew what he had."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you're not weak, dear, that you're far from weak. You deserved someone far better than him, a pathetic excuse for a man."

"Men suck, no offense."

He chuckled. "No offense taken. I agree men are terrible creatures, well, except me of course." He placed a hand on his chest, gesturing to himself with such pride.

"Others disagree." You wiped your mascara off.

"They're tyrants."

You giggled. Alastor then got off the bed, held out his hand, and you took it. He decided to make you a nice dinner, to show that maybe, just maybe, he was the one and you deserved better.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

The Tennis Players and The Girl They’re Always With

✰ art donaldson x f!reader & slight patrick zwieg x f!reader

✰ word count: 1.4k

✰ summary: friends to lovers with your favorite tennis stars.

✰ warnings: language, a heated kiss that turns into more, allusions to smut, minors dni, 18+, art is a simp and has the energy of a kicked puppy while patrick is the cockiest mf on earth.

the people have spoken, and so has my puss...

maybe a part 2???

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main m.list ⋆ art donaldson m.list

✰ not my gif, credits to owner.

The concrete under your legs was still warm from the summer sun, even though you were sitting in the shade. Tuesday’s were always practice days for Art and Patrick. And though you were friends with your tennis stars, you never indulged in the sport itself. 

Rhythmic beats of the tennis ball ricocheting off the rackets flooded your ears as you’re face down in your notes. Stanford was a dream come true, especially with one of your best friends attending with you, but when Patrick came into town, so did his reckless behavior. 

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You’ve known the boys since high school, their boarding school just down the street. It wasn’t hard to find them around town, they always seemed to be everywhere you were at the same time as you. When the talk of a house party made its way through town, the three of you ended up talking for hours. 

Once you established your friendship, you made sure to be at both their tennis matches, your enthusiasm for your friends was unmatched. 

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Occasionally, you would look up towards the duo, their ability to perfectly match each other amazes you, even now. It wasn’t long before they began to pack it up for the day, approaching you with sweat on their skin, Patrick wipes his forehead with the bottom of his shirt, “Wanna go grab a bite? I’m starving, fuck.” You quickly shove your notebook in your bag before reaching your hands up, Art and Patrick each grabbing a hand to pull you up. 

“Sure,” you dust off your clothes, “but you guys need to shower or something. You both smell awful.” You begin to walk towards the fence door when you feel warmth and moisture wrap around you. Art and Patrick have entrapped you in a hug, their stink overwhelming your senses. A laugh erupts from your chest while you try to push them off, “Let go!” They finally peel off of you with a laugh, “You guys suck. Maybe I don’t want to go get dinner with you.”

“It was Patrick’s idea,” Art defends himself, and you can’t help but laugh at how easy it was for Art to confess. He’s always been so quick to make sure you’re happy, even if you’re joking. Whether it be making sure you were feeling okay or holding the door open for you, Art was always on top of it. 

Patrick shoves Art in response before you three head over to Art’s dorm. Whenever Patrick was in town, he always stayed at Art’s because his roommate decided to drop out of school with no warning; and honestly, it made life easier. You could stay over whenever you wanted, and Patrick could have his own bed whenever he wanted to visit. 

Art pushes open the door, a wave of cool air hits your cheeks, and you let out a sigh of relief. You make a b-line towards the bed and lay down before you yell out to the pair, “Hurry up, I’m starving.” Shutting your eyes as you bask in the feeling of the mattress. 

The blond is the first to head into the bathroom and freshen up, the sound of water hitting the shower floor is heard throughout the small room. You can feel Patrick grab both of your ankles before lifting them and placing them on his lap as he sits down next to you. He leans his back against the wall before he looks down at you, “You know Art is in love with you, right?”

Your eyes snap open, Patrick’s question catching you off guard. You let out a small giggle, “What?” There’s no way he’s serious. 

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be dumb,” his hand still resting on your ankle, “it’s painful how hard he sucks up to you. And that look in his eyes? That’s something more than a friendship.” 

This makes you think about all the times you’ve had a conversation with Art, you’re trying to understand where Patrick is coming from. But all you do is draw a blank. “First of all, I have no idea what you’re talking about, you’re delusional. And two, Art just cares, like any friend should. There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

The brunette throws his head back in disbelief, “I bet that if you asked, he would tell you everything. He’d do anything for you.” 

You sit up and laugh, “No fucking way–.” You’re cut off by Art opening the door, his towel hanging low on his torso, water beads still falling down his chest. The silence is deafening as you and Patrick stare at him. 

Art can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as his eyes lay on the sight of you sitting so close to Patrick, that you feel resting on his lap. His cheeks begin to warm, “What?” 

The only thing that’s on your mind is the conversation you had with Patrick before Art’s interruption. Your brain can’t form words, but Patrick is quick on his feet like he always is. “Nothing,” he responds, short and sweet, before he hops off the bed and swiftly enters the bathroom, leaving the two of you in an awkward silence. 

You awkwardly find some stray piece of thread to play with as Art reaches for the clothes in his dresser. Once his back faces you, you look up at him, the muscles in his shoulders accentuating with each slight movement. 

An unexplainable wave of adrenaline appears in your mind, you need to know if Patrick was right. 

Pushing yourself off the twin mattress, you walk over to Art as soon as he turns around. “You’ll tell me if I’m reading this wrong, right?” The air around you is warmer than you remembered. He says nothing but nods his head. The sudden seriousness in your voice catches his attention, his whole being focused on you. “How long have you been in love with me?” 

Art’s eyes widen at your question, his heart is pounding and he can’t find the words to answer. His lack of response was enough to shut you down completely. Your eyes shut in frustration, “I’m so sorry, that was a stupid question.” 

And as usual, Art is quick to ease your worries. “Hey,” he holds you by your waist, “don’t be sorry.” 

All you feel is embarrassment in this moment, “Fuck, I just ruined this, didn’t I?” 

He huffs out a small laugh before pulling you in to capture you in a kiss. His skin is still warm from his shower, and suddenly, you melt into it. Your hands reach up to hold the sides of his face, keeping him in place as his touch entrances you. 

Without you realizing it, you begin to move as Art is leading you towards the wall, pushing you against it. The kiss quickly begins to carry a wave of lust behind it, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth at the eagerness. 

A hand leaves his face, to reach behind him and pull him in impossibly closer as Art’s arms trap you in. When his mouth leaves yours, you whine, but as soon as he ducks his head into your neck and begins to suck on the supple skin there, you don’t complain. 

His damp hair is tickling your cheeks, as a louder moan leaves your lips. He feels too good, and if you don’t feel more of him soon, you think you’ll die. 

Pushing Art off of you, his face flashes a look of sadness before you push him onto the bed. You stand in front of him, his towel falling further down his torso as he spreads his legs, a cocky smirk on his face. You’re just about to climb on top of him when the sound of the bathroom door opens, and suddenly fear attacks your senses. 

There Patrick stood, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes fell on you two. Looking back at Art, he’s in the same boat as you. You can tell he’s embarrassed, and it kills you. You’ve never liked seeing Art upset, it always struck a chord in you to help him. So now, you think fast, and the words that come out of your mouth are unexplainable. 

“Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to join?”

✰ author's note: holy cow i need the both of them so bad it's criminal. the results of my poll are so funny, EVERYONE LOVES ART DONALDSON. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog!! ok, byeeee!!!

[luvjunie]

pretty boy earth 1610 miles 745 words

Three gentle taps to the glass pane of your bedroom window alerted you of your frequent nighttime visitor, ten minutes to midnight, like always. Nose abruptly lifting from the book it was tucked in, you quickly set it off to the side on your duvet and smiled at the sight of Miles—still fully suited up where he stood on your fire escape as he gave you an excited wave. Seeing Spider-Man randomly pop up where you live would probably scare the life out of anyone, but you weren’t just ‘anyone’.

With a small grunt and an upwards pull of your window, you were soon face to face with the netted nylon mask of your city’s secret superhero—who wasn’t much of secret to you and your small room.

Miles immediately pulled his mask off so your lips could meet faster: his main focus, aside from the fact that it was thirty degrees out and he was losing feeling in his toes.

“Hey,” he pulled away from you with a smile that nearly rivaled yours, ducking down and climbing through to escape the prickly chill of the November night.

“Hi pretty boy, I missed you.”

He already had his hands on the bottom, ready to shut it when it’d rolled off your tongue like the simplest thing as you pounced back onto your bed. The window came to a screeching halt, literally, when he looked over his shoulder, eyes widened and blinking as if he’d misheard you. Seemingly unaware of the years you just shaved off his lifespan with those two little words, you glanced down at your book that’d flopped closed due to the movement of your mattress. “Damn, I lost my page.” you muttered with a frown.

“H-What?” Miles blinked, eyes remaining on you until he finally remembered to shut the window, softly, and quietly. “What’d you say?”

“I lost my page?” you repeated.

“Before that.”

You tilted your head at him, brows creased to match the confused look you wore. “I…missed you?” you laughed uncertainly, thumb and pointer finger riffling through the pages of your well-loved copy of Hunger Games: Catching Fire. It was a desperate attempt, really, trying to find where you’d left off. You were never one to dog-ear your pages.

“No, no,” He was facing you fully now, the small two strand twists he had in his hair shaking with his head when it moved from side to side. “The other thing.”

You looked away and at your poster clad wall, eyes squinted as they slowly landed on him again. Your voice, quieter than it was before, had a confused lilt to it when you answered again.

“…Hello?”

“Jesus fuc—” Miles nearly smacked his forehead, hands clasping together and pointing towards you instead. “Baby. What did you say after ‘hello’?”

You thought on it for a moment, relaying through the brief interaction. “Oh!” You sat up, calves tucked beneath your thighs and face brightened with an oncoming grin. “Pretty boy?”

“Yeah,” he scratched his head, eyes bouncing on and off your face and canines showing when his top lip raised into something of a shy smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Duh.” You scoffed, as if the answer were beyond obvious. Miles shook his head at you, a puff of air sounding from his nose in the form of amusement.

“Don’t think I’ve heard that one before. Boys aren’t usually called pretty, but I’ll take it.”

Slowly lowering himself, Miles let out an unpleasant groan when his hip touched the ground, far too young to have his joints aching the way they did. Laying down on your sherpa rug, he sprawled out on his back and let his eyes close, like he always did during his night visits. He’d stay for an hour or so, talk with you, get patched up if needed (which was rare), or sometimes take a power nap so he could swing the rest of the way back. And after surveying the city he knew better than to even think about touching your bed. In his outside clothes was bad enough, now his suit? Absolutely not. He was more than satisfied with the floor.

“Yeah, well I think you are.” Laying flat on your stomach, you pressed your cheek to your folded arms and marveled down at your exhausted boyfriend from the height of your bed. “Everything about you is pretty. Like your eyelashes? They’re gorgeous, and for what? It’s lowkey unfair.”

“Aight you’re draggin’ it.” he laughed.

“I’m serious!”

a/n: pretty boys >>>

[ma1dita]

love me dry

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.5k

summary: (post-TLT) The one where he meets you at his mother’s house, though both of you didn’t expect the other to be there. A glimpse into May Castellan’s perfect day (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: sorry for the hiatus! been on the study grind and didn’t even notice, but i’ve been working on this for a bit! macbeth references (comment if you catch them/or ask and i’ll yap) and slight suggestive stuff under the cut—but anyways let’s just say the prophecy by taylor swift came out at the right time.

(posted 4/19/24, semi-edited)

—

The drive to Westport has become almost an afterthought in these past few years— in the way you unconsciously reach for your favorite hoodie on the way out the door or tuck in your chair before you leave a table, almost automatic but ingrained with a touch of care.

With letters to May Castellan occupying your passenger seat instead of the boy who wrote them, you’d make the drive multiple times but stop short just before the property line. It took months of parking at the bottom of the hill and just watching the sun set on the little house, so clearly being able to imagine a smaller version of him running around and wreaking havoc. 

Little Luke, with bandaged knees and feet that move as fast as his motor mouth, amber eyes glinting like windchimes in the summer breeze. His mom must’ve watched him play by himself through the bay window before calling him home when the clouds covered the horizon, wispy tendrils stretching over the rain gutter like how lovers hold hands. It must’ve reminded her a lot of his father, leaving nothing but the open air in his wake. Still, all of this was familiar to you too—despite having never stepped foot in the white house.

But knowing Luke meant knowing his home like it was a part of you.

The old hatchback’s engine gently rumbled against the quiet of the property each time you visited, and May would wait for you to come near— waiting for you to be ready to walk into a mausoleum of the boy you both once knew. You were familiar to her too, even as a blurry figure hunched over the steering wheel. She’s seen your face in the small glimpses between the shattering earth of her reality and the hazy foresight she lets herself succumb to remember what her son looks like. In every vision of him since he’s left, you’ve been there; and something about that quells the pain and anguish that it brings to her body when she sees it. But May Castellan is ever an observant woman, gift of prophecy aside. A mother always knows.

It also turns out that she makes excellent conversation over a plate of slightly singed chocolate chip cookies.

—

Luke Castellan is years older than the version of him that last sat at this kitchen table. He doesn’t know if he’s any wiser for it—wondering if he’s made a mistake in coming back here after all this time as he watches his mom hustle around the kitchen that’s suspiciously sparkling clean. A silver spoon clinks against the glass pitcher that May stirs mixed berry Kool-Aid in, his favorite, he remembers, and it makes him squint against the light that filters through the gauzy curtains of the windowpane above the sink. Luke could’ve sworn that there used to be badly patched rips in the fabric, but he attributes it to the dark corner of his memory he still hides away like a secret. Sitting there and taking it all in, he wonders what it would’ve been like to actually grow up here—to stay, for once. 

But that’s something he doesn’t have the privilege of knowing. When his mom turns to hand him a glass with her shaking hands, wrinkles and laugh lines are mapped across the expanse of her face. He’ll never know how they got there. The wooden chair creaks under him, groaning under the weight that he carries and Luke once again feels uncomfortable in a place he once called home. 

“Knew you’d come back. A mother always knows,” May mutters, voice disembodied like she’s floating just out of reach. Her hands clasped over his, rubbing her thumbs over the veins as if she’s checking his pulse (or the possibility of him being an apparition) and the crack in her smile mirrors his. But this isn’t the home he remembers—his frontal lobe was underdeveloped back then and the only plan it could form was the one to get him the hell out of Westport, there’s something different in the details. Tiny things, like the patio swing chain reattached to its post, a mended table leg, and ceramic tiles on the countertop unbroken and smooth. This is a home and a mother he once longed for as a kid, along with the feeling of comfort and safety you can only attribute to a place like this.

Calculating eyes scan the perimeter of the kitchen, but no one knows he’s made the trip to Westport, not even his own crew. Surely nothing could mess this up for him, not here. This was his last step before his quest for redemption eats away at his physical body, and then it will all be out of his hands. 

There’s not much left for me here, he thinks— there’s not much of me left here, either.

Then Luke hears you before he sees you—the sound of you humming under your breath mixed with the jingle of keys turning in the front door. With bags of groceries leaving marks on your arms and a soft smile he hasn’t seen you wear in ages, for once you look lighter again. For a moment, the thought crosses his mind that this must be what you look like when he’s not around. Nonetheless, he breathes easier when you’re near. Of course, you’re here, and the irony grips him by the neck almost as if to make it known why his home feels like home again.

“Yeah hon, I’ll have to call you back,” you laugh into your headphones before tapping them with one free finger to end the call. In a split second, your eyes meet. Staggering back at the sight of him sitting at the table and the absolute grin on May’s face, you decide to continue into the space ahead and start putting the groceries away like nothing is out of sorts. 

“I see you have a visitor, Miss May. Is he staying long?”

Luke sips at his glass, juice extra tart just how he likes it. His lips pucker at the taste it leaves in his mouth and when he opens his mouth there’s a hint of blue. You try not to look too long.

“For the night,” he answers, even if you weren’t talking to him, but it makes May so vibrant with the notion of him not running again that she instantly hops to her feet and rushes to make the bed in his old room. “I won’t be in your way,” he swallows. You gravitate towards him like a moth to a flame, but move around his chair without touching him—further proving that Luke is, in fact, an obstacle you must overcome. He’s a stranger in his own home and you’ve found yourself at ease in it. You wonder if any of that will make a difference in the long run.

“She’s…”

“More peaceful. I’ve been practicing with my dad, so I do what I can to ease her fits but I’m not exactly equipped to lift a curse from Hades,” you mutter through a bitten lip. Luke stares at you but it feels nostalgic, like someone on the outside looking in. Well, shit. He’s been leading demigods to their deaths every summer and you’ve been trying to cure his mentally ill mother in the time you don’t spend trying to stop him.

“I don’t think I even remember the last time she made sense while talking to me,” he laughs hollowly. You purse your lips and shrug, “I visit her every two weeks. She still has her triggers, and she gets confused but she’s not in pain. Your letters helped.”

“Is that why you came here then?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” you joke feebly. It falls flat and yet he still smiles, even when you say, “They weren’t for me.”

“They were about you. All of them were.”

You know that too. May makes you read them to her before bedtime as you stroke her hair and send her off to Hypnos. You’ve relived your relationship with Luke a million little times, and he’s written about you and all of your yesterdays like it was the only glimpse of Elysium he’d ever reach. In those letters, you get to remember the good parts of being in love—laughing in the empty amphitheater, holding hands under the dining table, sneaking kisses in the strawberry fields. 

You used to understand each other so well: every dream, every feeling. But there is nothing you understand about the man sitting across from you now. The both of you sit at the kitchen table and there is nothing more to say.

Luke doesn’t have to stay. While you were at the supermarket, he spent an hour trying to explain to his mother that he needed her blessing to swim in the River Styx. Through nuances and veiled simplicity in the words he weaved to convince her, there wasn’t much opposition in her half-empty, half-prophetic mind. May always knew that Luke loved to swim when she took him to the beach, and that was that.

There was nothing more to say.

—

He knows it’s too good to be true when moments later May’s screams carry through the halls of the little house, down the stairway you’re currently clambering up to reach her. By the time his boots reach the second landing, he finds the two women he loves most in a huddle against the linen closet, his mother’s glowing green eyes and empty groans rattling him to the bone. If he were any smaller, he’d be shaking. Even now he doesn’t know what to do— feet frozen as he watches you brush her curls away from her face and lull her to solace.

“Can’t find Luke’s sheets—he needs the Toy Story ones…” May mutters as she rocks on her heels, “My boy needs to be home… He’s meant to be home!” Her fingernails are cutting into your wrists and then she silences with a wave of your hand.

“He’s home, Miss May. He’s right there,” you whisper. When your eyes look at Luke, you watch him crumble—the cracks in his fortitude tumbling like fallen rocks at the sight of the two of you and then you see him. The boy you met at 14 who was angry at the world for making him run away from his mother and the hands of fate until it crept up to snuff him out for the sake of a prophecy foretold by deities who will never understand what it’s like to be human. But there are no second chances, and there is nowhere left to run. “He’s here for you. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”

“I see it, the two of you together. The worst will be over soon, and then it’ll all make sense,” she says breathily, licking her lips and straightening herself like nothing happened. Even after you send her off to prepare a basket for the beach, Luke doesn’t move when his mother pats his arm and walks around his body and towards the stairs. Neither of you speak until your fingers touch his jaw lightly, and Luke doesn’t know if you’re trying to help him or inspect him. He tilts down to look at you anyway.

“She thinks we’re still together.”

He blinks. Somehow that’s the most shocking thing he’s heard today. Fate is most definitely cruel and fucked up because he never expected it to be like this—once upon a time he hoped he could take you home to meet his mother when everything was said and done; no shackles from Titans or pressure from the gods.

It was supposed to be different.

“The letters probably didn’t help as much as you thought they would then,” he mumbles, calloused hands guiding your hands over to his swiftly beating heart. You scoff, “Neither does bringing up my boyfriend. She thinks it’s you.” He’d believe anyone who’d say they watched you yank his heart out of his chest with that statement, everything bloody in your hands. It’s still yours, even if you don’t want it.

“Kit?”

You shake your head and shrug, “That was forever ago. But he treats me well.”

Luke wants to ask more but by the tension in your shoulders, he knows not to push. He’s not entitled to know anything more than what you give him. It’s not his place anymore. So his brow furrows at your next suggestion.

“Just pretend, Luke. For the day, so your mom doesn’t get agitated. I’m not asking for much here.”

It’s a terrible, terrible idea—even you know that. But you both have always been good pretenders. Liars, a voice corrects in the back of your mind. You reason that it’s for May and insist upon that fact, even if the heartbroken girl you left at Camp Half-Blood is raging at you from deep inside the recesses of your mind that you hide her in. What’s one day with him compared to the many you’ve gone without? You don’t need to know the rest of why he’s here, or what more he’s going to do— and you don’t ask. 

Not knowing has always hurt less.

—

You’ve forgotten how good Luke is at playing the part of a good boyfriend. He offers to drive to the beach, carries the picnic basket and blanket for you all to sit on, and listens intently when May asks about your college classes. There’s no discomfort in the way he holds your hand as you walk in the sand or dusts your feet off before laying them across his lap. It’s easy to laugh at his bad jokes, it’s easy to act like the boyfriend you describe is anything like him (even if he’s the complete opposite), and it’s too damn easy to fall into the familiar rhythm that is you and Luke. The three of you lay down as the spring breeze covers you from the rest of reality, hiding away from the truth of a broken woman and two ex-lovers. By late afternoon, you find yourself enjoying it, and it’s cruel how the guilt isn’t rolling off you in waves, instead longing for him to follow you anywhere. 

He meets you by the shoreline with both of you waist-deep in the water. May’s collecting seashells but she turns to look at you two every so often like she’s framing this memory in her fragile mind. Without saying it out loud, the both of you hope it will hold. 

“She always talks about you, you know? Even without trying,” you mutter as saltwater pours from your fingers to the valleys made by the veins in his forearms. It’s like initiating touch without the consequences of actually doing it, and he immerses himself in the feeling as it spills over him, feet rocking against the tide. 

“I do too. Can’t help it.”

When the sea ripples once more pushing you against the wall of his body, you end up holding on, and he doesn’t let go. You both smell like salt and sunshine, pressed together and nothing has made more sense. The silence goes on for a beat too long—he whispers, “You still talk about me? Your boyfriend must hate that.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk about you? For anyone to get to know me, they have to know you.”

Your shirt is stuck to your skin in the surf and Luke’s hands brush over the waistline of your underwear, daring to reacquaint himself with your touch and spur a reaction from you. You may be the best actress he’s ever known but anything is better than watching you be complacent with the false niceties of the day.

“There isn’t much worth knowing.”

“I’d never say that, Luke,” jaw tensing, you let out a breath when his hands encircle your hips, hidden in plain sight in the deep of the ocean. He chuckles and the sound tickles your brain to remind you it's the type of laugh he spits out when he’s hiding his anger, “There’s a lot we’re both not saying.” Your name slips past his lips, sneaking past your defenses and hitting you head-on like a bullet.

“Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why are you helping his mother, why aren’t you actively fighting and turning him in, why are you letting him hold you if he’s only going to leave again—there are too many questions and only one clear answer.

“Because it’s out of our hands, isn’t it, Luke? You love your mother but you wouldn’t have come here unless it’s too late. Annie told me you went to see her in San Francisco.”

He was never here to make amends or save face. There was no version of him that was going to ask you to run away with him because he knows you deserve more than always running from fate. He’d do it all over again as long as you got this— the life you’re living with your college degree, your boyfriend, and your happy family— and Luke has no place in that.

A dry laugh bubbles from his throat, sticking like seafoam when he says, “You hate San Francisco.” 

You wouldn’t have come, anyway. 

—

By the time you get home for dinner, your skin is sensitive and tingly from the heat of the sun. May’s tracing circles into the back of your hand as she leads you up the patio steps. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that makes you sway against the doorway.

“Too much time having fun,” she mumbles, patting your cheek, “Take a cold shower dear. Join us when you’re ready?” Luke’s eyes follow you all the way up the stairs and then again, he’s left to his own devices.

Most of the said shower was spent thinking about what your friends would say about you for playing house with the enemy. The guilt felt like ice along your spine, paralyzing you for wanting to be selfish, to choose what makes you happy even if it fucks the rest of the world. But looking in the mirror afterward was scarier—you recognized the girl that stared back at you as someone you thought you’d never see again. A version you left behind years ago, with her head held high and so sure of herself with your Luke by your side. 

Surely, there’s no harm in indulging in this vice for the rest of the night. Not when you haven’t felt this relaxed in years.

Dinner is being served by the time you make your way back downstairs. It’s a simple dish you taught Luke how to make back at camp when you raided the kitchens at midnight. Nothing special, reminding you of your own home—but the fact that he remembered makes your smile widen as you take a seat and promise to wash the dishes. Luke chuckles the type that makes his eyes crinkle in mirth once he watches you dig into your meal, knees brushing under the table like old times. 

Everything feels easier after that.

“Today was the best day,” his mother mutters as you tuck the covers under her chin. May kisses both of your cheeks before she shuts her eyes and you gently fold the letter she chose tonight back into her nightstand for safekeeping. This time, you read her the story of your first kiss with Luke sitting at the foot of her bed in the dim light of her room. It’s less scary here than he remembers, but maybe it’s because this time there’s no screaming and him running to hide in the closet. Your voice is much more pleasant than those suppressed memories, immersing you all in a more pleasant one— the both of you in the amphitheater kissing on the stage with his hands in your belt loops. Luke could recite every word on that page if it meant he could go back in time, not with Backbiter but with you, just to live through that moment again. I think I’m falling in love with her, is how the letter ended but by then he already knew. Writing it down to tell his mother always made it real. 

This, you, right here—everything is real.

He’s silent even as he watches you smoke through the cracked window of his childhood bedroom, and you’re surprised when he steals a puff. His hands are shaking under the moonlight and suddenly it’s clear that he’s scared. Everyone feels fear, but in all the years that you’ve known him, Luke Castellan has never let you see it.

“Those things will kill you one day,” you mumble, watching him lean against the windowpane. It’s what he used to always tell you so that you’d quit, but old habits die screaming. It’s another vice you refuse to let go of.

“Wanted to try something new before I…” his voice drops off. 

Lose myself. 

Lose you. 

Luke coughs as the smoke enters his lungs, a momentary rush hitting him brought by the nicotine. Your hands go to cup his jaw as you set your forehead against his, a silent plea for him to just be honest if there’s truly nothing left to lose.

“I’m out of time, Trouble. It’s out of my hands.”

Shuddering at the feeling of him tracing every ridge of your spine, you think the way he says your nickname sounds like the way he used to say I love you. It’s raining outside now, the harsh pitter-patter of wet drops drowning out the sound of your voice, “What can I do? Is there anything left for me to do?” When his head shakes, your noses brush, and your breaths intermingle, almost magnetic. Perhaps the rain is getting in from the open window and you feel it hitting your cheek until you see the shine of his eyes.

“You think I did this because of you. I know you do, but you need to know I did all of this for you, trouble. I choose you and me. Every time,” Luke gasps, intertwining his fingers with yours, the both of you pushing and pulling in this embrace like the moon with the tide.

“Luke…” 

You’re pressing yourself against him, face hidden in his shirt as your brain catches up to your heart, hasty breaths and every atom of your being screaming to be held together by him and then you’re on him, through tears and clenched fists tumbling towards the tiny twin bed. The only way he likens himself to his father is his yearning to be a true traveler, but what he knows best out of anything in this entire world is you. He knew this body once too— every birthmark, scar, and dimple. Who else has had the privilege to navigate the ridges of your spine, to know the pressure of your kiss? A tattoo peeks out to say hello at your hip bone. There are new stories and new marks, there are parts of you unknown to him now. Luke thinks that must be what hurts most about each time he leaves you. 

But then gods, why does this feel so good?

Warm palms caress your waist, nudging your shirt up in the hopes that this will be enough compensation for all his misdoings—the tears you’ve cried, the anger you’ve felt, the things you had to do and will have to do because of him. Luke is someone who’s gotten comfortable with manipulating time, but time has manipulated him and all of his plans for the both of you. Sleepy setback bedroom eyes meet his own that glow in the gentle light of the lamp on the nightstand. Maybe if you pretend again his childhood bedroom can turn into the star-speckled darkness of cabin 12. You can just lay down and tuck underneath his arms waiting for him to fall asleep. But he stays up this time, making you hiss at the feeling of his lips against your neck.

 “We can’t… Angelface,” you say breathily, still leaning into the trail he marks across the valley of your collarbone, “We’re not together anymore.” 

A kiss is placed on your pulsepoint, knocking against the cord of your necklace.

“We shouldn’t… I have a boyfriend.”

Another kiss rests against the warmth of your forehead.

“We’re on opposite sides of a war… You’re my enemy.”

Finally, his lips meet yours, for a moment as if to test the waters.

“Not tonight,” he says, and there is no other option but to agree. There is a lifetime to make up for in a night, and fuck it—they’ll crucify you anyway. You were never meant to be a hero, that’s what he always wanted. You just wanted him. Your head hits the pillow and he looms over you until you’re pulling him in for more than what’s necessary to accept an apology.

There’s nothing left to lose.

—

Before your mind can wake up dreading the consequences of last night, your socked feet take you to the kitchen to clean up the mess you’ve both left behind. The old floorboards creak underfoot and there’s a method in the way you’re washing the dishes, hot water and soap starting to seep through your shirt sleeve but you choose not to notice. Scrubbing at the dirt and grime left behind on the porcelain until your fingers start to prune, a lump forms in your throat before you can stop it. Maybe if you scrub hard enough at the glass that Luke drank out of last night it can eventually be clean. But it’s taking you longer than you thought, jaw tensing and fingers turning white at how hard you’re holding on. May appears behind you, guiding your hands away from the scalding water, and though you resist— the glass drops into the sink and shatters with a loud crack.

“Damn spot wouldn’t get out,” you sniff, turning away to look out the window and think of anything but him, but he’s everywhere even when he’s not here, so much so that it suffocates you. Guilt lines every shaking breath you take until lavender eyes meet amber at the sensation of her clasping your red and raw palms with a dishtowel. 

You see him in her too.

“His fate is greater than the cards he’s been dealt with. You know that.” 

It’s the clearest and most sensible May’s spoken in days. Perhaps when it comes to Luke, she’ll always know better. Eyes darting elsewhere to fight the tears that brim at your lash line, you look down at your swollen hands, palm up towards the heavens almost imploring, “Why couldn’t it be me?” 

The question’s direction is unclear and you don’t expect to get an answer, turning away to grab some ice from the freezer and she remains standing there—staring at the windowsill at a compass that’s now found its home next to the faded picture of a man who’s left more times than there are reasons to stay. Just like his father, she thinks, a small smile quirking at the side of her lip where a scar would meet her son’s. Clicking it open delicately like how she used to hold his hand, there’s a photo of you and Luke resting against the cover ripped away from a memory frozen in time.

“It is you,” May says quietly, though you’ve already left the room.

A mother always knows, after all.

—

“Aphrodite,” I pleaded to the moon-drenched night sky. “Tell me; if love is meant to heal, then why does it destroy those who choose it?” From somewhere beyond the clouds, I heard the Goddess laugh. And I knew. -Nikita Gill

[flamingpudding]

DPxDC Family Week June 24 (Day 7)

Prompts: Distant Relatives | Engrave

A/N: This is what I believe some would call straight up crack :D

AO3 Link: DPxDC Family Week Contributions

How do you tell your great great great great great (how many greats do you add when the child is the x-generation after about… how many years again? Danny had lost count) grand nephew that the ghost king, he just summoned, with an old family heirloom is his granduncle of many generations?

"Batman. Why does the pendant you gave me summon the fucking Ghost King?" Danny heard a familiar man in a trench coat say next to his nephew (he decided he needed to keep it simple there were too many greats to count)

The batman grunted glaring at the man, Danny blinked finally recognising the guy.

"Aren't you the guy who sold like a tenth of your soul to Ellie's spouse? I am sure I also heard Lucifer complaining that Mammon got more parts of your soul than he has." Danny mused as he looked down at them in his eldritch form. Noting how his nephew tensed as he got past that pathetic wall of protection.

Honestly all the protective engravings he had gifted his nephew and nieces through out generations were a hundred times better. How else would a place like Gotham survive on only Lady Gotham as spiritual protection from ghosts of the Ghost Zone and his former rogues that still liked to mess with his children, nephews and nieces? At least Jazz's branch of the family was safe from them this way. He had baby proofed the entire town or better every town a part of his branch family lived in.

"So, trading game, why did you summon me?" He would have liked to stay hidden, you know? The branch family had long forgotten their relation to the Ghost King and Danny had easily accepted that. His own child of chaos had not so much and preferred to play with the earth family branch but that's besides the point. They had used the pendant to summon him, with his own personal engraving. Did that mean they remembered or did his son let something slip to his cousin?

"Trading game." Someone snorted and for the first time since he got summoned Danny noticed the audience around him. His eldritch form did the equivalent to stunt blinking as he straightened up and took count of the children of his nephew. Baby Ghost, Baby Menace, Baby Stalker and Baby Stabby were there.

A gasp left his lips. A Baby Ghost was sick! In a puff of greenish smoke his eldritch form was dismissed and he changed to his favorite 20 years old Phantom form, rushing past his nephew and trading game.

"You poor baby! I didn't realize you were this sick! If I had known I would have done something way sooner!" He fretted as he inspected one of his nephew's babies, hovering around the boy poking and prodding the little guy, well little to him anyway.

"Who are you calling a baby?! Get your fucking hands of me!" Danny only hummed, patting the baby's head, only a little sad that he couldn't look at his face as Baby Ghost was wearing his favorite red explosive helmet and was on duty.

But on second thought seeing their cute little uniforms live was way better than when he had watched them through his ice mirrors. "Don't worry little Red Hood. You will be feeling a whole lot better soon. Your Uncle Danny will make sure of it."

"The fuck?" The sick baby probably looked at Danny like he had gone insane and the ghost king could only laugh. Good had it been long since he interacted with the earth branch family let alone humans. Maybe he should start accompanying his youngest to his visits to earth.

"Constantine! I thought the sigils were supposed to contain him!" He heard his nephew grunt and Danny grinned over his shoulder at them.

"My little nephew. I granted you way better engravings than this pathetic wall of protection." As if to prove a point he flew around the babies, stopping by the youngest and pulling his sword from him. There were gasps of shock as well as complaints and he couldn't help the laugh as little Baby Stabby tried to lunge at him but got held back by the eldest Baby Menace. He just held the sword towards his nephew and trading game as he held his palm against it and let his power flow. Soon the sigils he had placed on the sword as a homecoming present to the youngest baby, when he started living with his nephew, started to appear, glowing and shining.

"You… you engraved your sigils on things the bats own?!" Disbelieve clearly coloring the trench coats' voice as the man paled. His nephew appeared to be close to start brooding like he had seen him do a couple of times through the ice mirrors. Danny returned the sword, huffing amused how little Robin instantly inspected the sword again, the engravings no longer visible.

"Of course I did. I promised my sister a long time ago that I would always protect her children. Though the engravings were certainly hard to hide from one of your babies."

"Sister? Babies?" Baby Stalker aka Red Robin aka little Tim asked and Danny coed. This baby always reminded him of his best friend Tucker and he was glad to have a technology adept child in the family again.

"Yes your great great great uh…" he stopped thinking how many greats he needed to add and ended up sighing compromising with: "...your grandmother many generations ago."

"How many of our things did you engrave?" His nephew finally grunted out, trench coat guy definitely looking like he was having an aneurysm by now.

"Don't remember, decorations, jewelry, toys, weapons, I think I even engraved your belt buckle." The ghost king shrugged, he honestly didn't. Ellie liked to joke that he was way too protective of the earth branch with the amount of protective engravings and sigils he had put up for them without them even knowing. She was still a little cross with them when they started forgetting about their ghostly part of the family after Jazz died.

There was a distinctive frustrated sigh and for a second Danny did feel bad for his nephew. Maybe he should not have just simply spewed everything but he couldn't hold himself back when he saw the sick baby. He was protective of his family, sue him. At least he hadn't given any of his nephews potential mates a shovel talk yet, not like he had with Ellie's spouse anyway. Jazz had banned him from using Fright Knight's Soul Shredder on humans after he had mentally scared and traumatized her first boyfriend with it. Apparently the guy had been too weak to handle it and lay sick in bed for a while after his return from the nightmare realm.

That reminded him! Turning around he flew up to the sick baby again who flinched back from his touch. He ignored that and only made a calming thrilling noise, calling out to the baby's sick core.

"Get the fuck away-"

Poor baby must be suffering badly from uncontrolled anger and ghostly intermittent explosive disorder. No wonder he hadn't developed any of his powers yet. That Disorder tended to be violent, especially the ghostly kind. Carefully letting his power wash over the baby, Danny coaxed out the little underdeveloped core. Usually he would make sure to do these kinds of things for any of his children, nieces and nephews in a safe environment but this was an exception. It was a sick baby core that would receive long lasting damage if not treated.

Gasp resounded as the tiny core came out of the baby's chest, not wasting any time Danny refresh the ectoplasm in it and removed the corrupted one. He then sent the core back into the baby's chest patting him where it sunk back into the body.

"There you go! Should be all good now!" A second after he said it Danny blinked at all the weapons that were pointed at him. He flinched a little as Baby Menace let electricity spark near him.

"WAIT THAT IS THE GHOST KING YOU IDIOTS!" Trading game screamed, apparently finally waking up from whatever stupor he had been in.

"So? He did something to Todd. Who knows what that was." Danny cooed, he knew Baby Stabby cared, his own youngest was similar in that way, just more chaotic in his display of affection, which also earned him his title. Little Damian was also the most intune with ghostly etiquette next to Baby Ghost, considering the reason for the nickname Danny gave him.

"And he can destroy entire dimensions! Do you guys want to doom us all?!" Trench coat countered very much insistent that the babies pull back their weapons.

Danny in return only huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. Like he would destroy the home of the earth branch. That man was talking rather rudely to them and he was also stopping him from bonding with his nephews' babies. "Buzz of trading game. This is a family matter and if the babies want to bond then we will bond."

After a moment of consideration he added. "Also don't talk to them like that. They are royalty and I will not have you disrespect them."

With a wave of his hand a green portal opened below the man swallowing him. Being nice Danny decided to drop the man off in his own home. He was the one that taught his nephew how to use the pendant again after all. But he wanted to be left alone with his family. Before his nephew or the babies could panic he smiled brightly and said. "Don't worry I sent him home to his house of mysteries or whatever he calls it. So we can have some family time! Besides, my In-law wouldn't be happy if I harmed his contract even if his soul is a trading game among the demons…"

They all shared a look and seemed to take the ghost king's words for it. Especially as litte Jason finally got out of his shock, patting at his own chest and mentioning that he indeed did feel better. Saying that there was no Pit Madness in his mind anymore, huh so that's what the Disorder got called on earth.

They instantly questioned Danny of what he did to which their ghostly uncle only smiled at the once sick baby without answering. He would have Frostbite to take a second look soon though, just to be safe.

"You mentioned us to be royalty?" The gruff voice his nephew put on when on duty resounded and a warm smile spread across the ghost kings face to the wonder of the bat-clan present.

"I thought that information got passed down through all the generations like the summoning pendant." The ghost king tilted his head. "You do know your part of the Infinite Realms Royalty right?"

"We… are royalty? For real?" One of the babies slowly asked and Danny grinned at them.

"Of course you are. In fact, the little Baby Ghost here-" He flew up to Jason, the once sick baby and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Is the fifth in line should neither my children, nore Ellie or her children want to take over the throne when I don't want it anymore and don't feel like bothering on waiting for someone to beat me in a succession battle."

"Red Hood is? Shouldn't it be like Batman or Robin?" Little Tim asked and Danny sadly shook his head.

"By earth standards, sure. Not by Ghost Zone standards though. They don't have a core, it would be different if they develop a core after death but right now? It's baby Hood here who is in line."

"So… to sum it up." The oldest baby started packing his weapons away and Danny felt just a little bit disappointed but the youngest had his sword out. So maybe a bit of bonding would still happen now that the earth branche knew about their relationship again.

"B is a descendant of your sister which makes him royalty and in turn all his children, blood and adopted equally? And Red Hood is even in line for the throne of another dimension because he has, what you call a core?"

"Yup." Danny popped the 'p', he was about to explain more considering his nephew had adopted quite the stoic look and the babies did appear to become slowly a little too overwhelmed. When a red portal opened and his own son decided to join the family reunion.

"Dad! What is taking you so long? Aunt Ellie is sending me to fetch you cause she thinks you're skipping your meeting with the observants again!"

"KLARION?!" Baby Stalker shouted and Danny blinked. Oh right, his own baby boy liked to bond with his cousin's babies. When was the last time his baby boy visited earth? Oh the babies were taking on fighting stances. How sweet of them! Even his nephew was tensing up and looked ready to fight.

"Baby Spook, are you here to bond with your cousin's again?" Sue him, he couldn't help the excitement. His little chaos was the most interested in playing with his earth branch family compared to everyone else in the ghost branch, including Ellie's children. They liked to mess with entire dimensions though and nearly caused at least three wars in the last ten years. They had also inherited Ellie's ire in regards to the earth branch forgetting their existence. That's why his youngest son had taken it upon himself to teach and bond with the little ones here.

"Bond?" Little Tim questioned while his son sighed.

"Beings of the Infinite Realms bond via fighting. How else are we going to teach babies how to protect themselves and become stronger?" The Lord of Chaos explained in exasperation like he was talking to a toddler. Considering their age differences he kind of was, Danny mused.

"Hold on, does that mean all the times you spent attacking was…?"

"Me bonding with you babies, yes. My siblings as well as older cousins aren't interested so of course that leaves me, the heir and superior cousin, to take care of our earth bound family."

"Even when you messed with the watchtower?"

Klarion arched an eyebrow at Batman. "Just because you are the oldest among the earthly doesn't mean you're any less of a toddler."

"Klarion." Danny warned, his cousins might be babies by ghost terms but that didn't mean he could act all arrogantly with them. Danny might have spoiled the boy since he was his youngest child but he surely had raised him better than that.

"No bonding today, Dad, you do have a meeting scheduled." A sigh left his lips, he guessed it was time to return. The disappointment must have been written all over the ghost king's face as his son huffed in amusement. "Maybe next time, Dad. You can come alone… if you get away from the observants."

"Alright, alright." Agreeing, Danny flew over to the summoning cycle and picked up the pentant before floating to his nephew.

The boy took a step back from him but Danny just smiled and continued forward, placing the pendant around Batman's neck. "My calling card, little nephew. We don't exactly have phones in the Infinite Realms. So use that to call me any time, though now that you guys got reminded about your relation to me I will make sure to come visit more often and not just watch and protect you from the other side."

"See you later Amadillos"

"Bye Bye Baby Bats!"

With that he didn't leave his nephew and the babies time to respond as he opened a portal and he and his son returned to the Infinite Realms, where an angry Ellie was waiting for him. Oh boy…

Meanwhile the bat clan exchanged looks slowly digesting the information dump that had just happened. They had just wanted to have Constantine check on the engraving they had on a family heirloom that happened to be similar to one that was found on an ancient egyptian summon plate and had caused some rather dangerous events.

Who would have thought that the Ghost King himself would tell them that they were apparently related and royalty in another dimension?

"I am so going to rub it in Roy's face that I am Royalty." Red Hood broke the silence.

"I always knew I was of royal descent." Robin added holding himself even prouder than before.

"Am i the only one losing my shit here that B and Robin are apparently blood related to Klarion? Also… just a warning I am going to start digging into the Family tree now." Red Robin informed with a glint in his eyes hidden behind his mask. He was definitely not asking for permission to do so.

"The Ghost King kept calling us babies though." Nightwing sounded amused, watching at how his brothers were taking the news and wondered how the rest of the family would react.

While Batman on the other hand was brooding and appeared to be severely constipated, probably thinking of all the worst case scenarios and most likely trying to figure if he needed a contingency plan for their newly discovered interdimensional family or not.

John Constantine on the other hand awoke back in his home and let out a long and suffering groan with the new knowledge he gained. Apparently the ghost king's in-law had a contract with him and now he also couldn't even be rude to the bats anymore because they were royalty and he would be screwed and potentially risk his entire existence should the Ghost King take offense. He was fucked the next time he had to deal with the bat-clan again.

[victoryverse]

crying screaming begging the lord himself for this-

imagine simon has a wife, he been had a wife, a military so and so who ranks wayyyyy above him -

she visits the base and everyone’s treating her with the utmost respect and formality until she passes simon who js,, casually offers her a cigarette, like ???? as if she’s not super massive important formal person number one ?

i’m here for the shock and awe,, everyone just being so completely caught off guard by them

“wh whahbwhh wh?????!!!!???”

“oh yea that’s my wife btw”

y/n riley

i really liked this idea anon >.< thank you for sending this!!! hope you like this <33

. . .

Simon Ghost Riley, the infamous and elusive member of Task Force 141, had always been a mystery to his team. He was a man of few words, a deadly sniper with a dark past, and someone who could disappear without a trace. But what his team didn't know was that behind the tough exterior, Simon had a soft spot for one special person - his wife, Y/n.

Y/n was a high-ranking military officer, a woman who had worked her way up the ranks with her intelligence, bravery, and unwavering dedication to her country. She and Simon had met during a classified mission, and it was love at first sight. Despite their dangerous jobs and the constant threat of danger, they had managed to build a strong and loving relationship.

But their love was a secret, known only to a select few in the military. So when Y/n decided to surprise Simon by visiting him at the base, the reactions of his teammates were nothing short of comical.

As she walked through the base, every soldier and officer stood at attention, saluting her as she passed by. Even Captain Price, known for his stoic demeanor, couldn't help but gape at the sight of her. But it was Simon's reaction that was the most surprising.

As Y/n approached him, Simon casually took out a cigarette and offered her one. The other soldiers were stunned, their mouths hanging open in disbelief. Did Ghost just offer a cigarette to a high-ranking officer? But Y/n just smiled and took the cigarette, her eyes never leaving Simon's.

The team was in shock as Simon and Y/n walked hand in hand, laughing and talking as if they were the only ones in the base. Even Soap, who had always been the closest to Simon, couldn't believe his eyes.

'Wh-what is going on here?' he stuttered, looking at his teammates for an explanation.

'I have no idea,' replied Konig, equally confused.

But as Simon and Y/n approached them, they all snapped back to attention, saluting Y/n as she stood by Simon's side.

'Boys, this is my wife, Y/n,' Simon said with a proud smile.

The team couldn't believe their ears. Simon Ghost Riley, the man of mystery, had a wife? And not just any wife, but a high-ranking military officer?

Y/n greeted them all with a warm smile, introducing herself and making them feel at ease. As they all sat down to chat, they couldn't help but ask about their relationship.

'How did you guys meet?' asked Soap, still in shock.

Simon and Y/n shared a look before Simon spoke up. 'We met during a mission in Afghanistan. Y/n was part of a team sent to assist us, and let's just say, she caught my eye.'

The team was in awe of their love story, and as they listened to them talk and laugh, they realized that Simon was a completely different person when he was with Y/n. He was happy, carefree, and even cracked a few jokes.

As the day went on, the team got to know Y/n better and realized that she was not just a high-ranking officer but also a kind, down-to-earth person. And as they saw the love and affection between Simon and Y/n, they couldn't help but feel happy for them.

From that day on, Y/n became a regular visitor at the base, and the team welcomed her with open arms. She brought a new light to their lives, and they were grateful to have her as part of their family.

And as for Simon, he had found his true partner in life, someone who understood and accepted him for who he was. He knew that with Y/n by his side, he could face any mission and come back home to her.

Their love story may have started amid chaos, but it had blossomed into a beautiful and unbreakable bond. And for Simon Ghost Riley, there was nothing more valuable than the love of his life, his wife Y/n.

. . .

tags: @ilovehobi101