#and I bought fucking THIRTEEN OF THEM

[literal-ghost]

I spent an irresponsible amount of money on bath and body works stuff this weekend and only some of it was gifts for my husband and mother in law.

[hellfireeddiemunson]

hey everyone i’m going to throw up i am so excited right now i can’t stop shaking

[2hightocare]

WHAT YOU NEED ✷

Synopsis: Jungkook and you try getting into the Christmas spirit, but you end up getting fucked up against the kitchen counter.

Pairing: Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: established relationship au!

Warnings: smut, size kink, light spanking, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t b dumb nd wear condom.) fluff, cussing, Jungkook has a dirty mouth. a kms joke, hair pulling and choking

Word count: 2.3k

A/n: let’s not sayyyy.. when i say i was giggling and kicking my feet i am not fucking lying! (Jk had me on a chokehold istg😒) they flagged my shit… um

Is it barely November 1st? Yes.

Are you putting the Christmas tree up already? Fuck yeah.

Jungkook would clown you for your love for Christmas, and honestly, you didn't care because you loved everything about it. The decorations, the new flavored coffee menu’s, the gifts underneath the tree, and the cold. You loved wearing beanies, scarves, and thick hoodies. Something about this holiday takes you back to your childhood—the way you would gather with your siblings and parents in the kitchen, making sugar cookies to put under the tree for Santa.

Were you heartbroken when your parents told you they were Santa? Yes. You felt betrayed after they lied to you for thirteen years of your life. When you shared your story with Jungkook, he burst out laughing, sharing that he found out at age nine after catching his parents in the act, making you want to cry for him.

Now here you both were at 10:40 pm assembling the Christmas tree. Jungkook's mom gifted you both, which is much bigger than yours from last year.

“Oh my fuck—this is too big, baby." Jungkook admires the height of the tree with his hands rested on both sides of his hips. Your excitement rises at how many possible ways you both could decorate it.

"Well, I can tell you hate it,” your boyfriend jokes as his hands wrap around your bare waist from behind. “Your hands are cold,” you flinch. Your hands wrap around his, trying to pass him your warmth.

“And if we decorate it with tiny dicks?” You crack your neck upward to see his reaction. “I mean, go for it, baby."

You swat his chest as he burst into a fit of laughter. “You swear you’re so funny, huh?” You look at him with a serious face, your mouth twitching from trying to hold in the big smile that wants to come out.

Jungkook just shakes his head. “Wanna decorate today with last year's decorations, or we can wait till tomorrow and buy new ones, and instead we can bake Christmas cookies?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Anyone in their right mind would be thinking we’re crazy for already baking Christmas cookies when December is in a whole month. But you both didn’t care.

…

“We should’ve gotten pre-made cookie dough.” Your eyes look around at the marble counter in front of you, filled with all the ingredients your mother-in-law told you to use. “On god.” Jungkook stands beside you. “You know what? Let me call my mom. We need a tutorial, I'm afraid.” You giggle as he pulls out his phone, opening up FaceTime.

The phone rings three times before the camera fills up with your mother-in-law smiling sweetly. "Hi, my babies!” She says first, Your face lights up. “Hi,” you wave a hand to the camera. “Hi mom!”

“You guys look adorable,” she motions to your guys matching pink hello kitty pajamas. “Y/n bought them; I had no choice,” he lied, knowing damn well he wanted to match first. “Sureee.” You rolled your eyes at him.

The call continued as Jungkook's mom gave you guys simple instructions like beating the sugar and butter with a whisk, which Jungkook took over because your hand started to hurt, and gradually adding flour to the mixture, which ended with both of you guys covered in white flour because Jungkook turned the mixer too fast. After wishing your goodbyes, you both slightly shake off the flour, and you put the dough in the refrigerator. Apparently, you have to let it be firm.

“So now we have two hours to wait. I say we fuck.” Jungkook slaps your ass, making you squeal. “You’re horny??” Your hands make their way to his hair, slightly pulling. "Hm, maybe,” he whispers into your mouth, and he gives you a slow, wet kiss. “I’m still sore from earlier." I mumble in between kisses. “Was I too rough?” His rough hands massage your ass. You shrug your shoulders in his embrace.

“Christmas movie, then?” He asks, “I’m so down."

….

“Shit takes like ass,” you say, finishing up the cookie.

Your boyfriend looks around for the long-gone cookie. “I don't know; let’s ask the audience.” He looks around for the invisible camera. “Bitch!” You swat his arm, and he burst out laughing, holding on to his stomach.

“You literally ate that shit up.” His head is thrown back, and the most beautiful laugh roars out of him. “I will kill myself genuinely.” You chuckle while trying another cookie without the frosting you guys tried making from a tutorial on Google.

“The frosting is ass, cause this is a bomb,” you stuff your mouth with the remaining of the cookie humming at the taste. “Am I weird cause I fuck with the frosting?" He dips his pinky nto the bowl where the white frosting is before sucking it off. “Never mind actual shit." His nose scrunches in disgust, and his tongue sticks out, making you giggle.

"No, seriously, why is it so bad?” Jungkook takes a sip of the milk he had served not so long ago. “I have no clue, baby, but the sugar cookie itself slaps." You take your half eaten cookie up to your boyfriend's mouth and say, "Open, ahh." He immediately follows commands and opens before you shove his mouth with the golden cookie. “Mhm,” Jungkook's face scrunches as he bobs his head up and down, savoring the heart-shaped cookie.

“Probably the best cookie I had in a while, not gonna lie,” he states, taking a bite of the gingerman's head.

“Do we have cinnamon?” You make your way to the drawer where you keep all the spices. “ Found it,” you make your way back to the cookie before sprinkling some on your and Jungkook's cookies before taking a huge bite. “Oh my fuck," you moan.

"Oh, my fuck indeed.” Jungkook shoves the remaining cookie into his mouth, moaning at how it melted in his mouth. "Think, I just saw stars.” You say this while he side-eyes you. “Haha no.” He says that before picking you up on the counter, he settles in between your legs.

“Horny still?” You ask again, "Yes, very, I’ll be a gentle promise.” He leaves open-mouth kisses on your neck before slowly sucking.

“No marks.” You moan, your fingers slightly tugging on his hair and making him groan. “Scarf season, princess.” He looks up with a smirk on his face, then continues his actions, sucking and licking your soft spot. You bite your lip, trying to be quiet. Jungkook slowly grinds into your clothed pussy causing you to slip out a throaty moan. “Fuck—“ you throw your head back, your legs caging him closer to where you most need him. “I need you to lose the clothes and fuck me.” Jungkook chuckles at your demanding tone.

“Yeah? Want my cock already?” His hands rub on your thighs. You nod your head, looking down at the imprint of his now-hard cock. You reach for it, but Jungkook slaps your hand away, making you pout. “Patience princess,” Jungkook's hands tug on the band of your pajamas, pulling them down and taking your underwear along with it.

You squeal as your bare ass feels the cold counter top, and your boyfriend laughs before throwing the clothes somewhere on the ground.

Your pussy clenches over nothing, and you go to press your thighs together to relieve some of the tension, only for Jungkook to hold them wide open. He pulls his hard cock out of his pants, giving himself two pumps before slapping it on your wet center. Your gaze fixated on his dick on your pussy, your lips between your teeth moaning slightly when your boyfriend gives it another slap with his dick.

“So wet for me, baby,” he says, giving it another slap. "C'mere," Jungkook's picks you off the counter from your arms, “bend over. ” He orders.

You quickly follow his command, your juices dripping down your legs from how wet you were already. Jungkook spreads open your legs some more before making his way in between them, giving your ass a slap. “Fuck—“ you clench your thighs together as he soothes the red mark he just left. “Fuck, when are you going to let me fuck this ass.” Your boyfriend asks you, giving you another spank, making you squeak.

“Never,” you moan, making him chuckle under his breath. “Worth the try.” He jokes before sinking down into you, both moaning at the feeling. You felt so full. Jungkook is so big, stretching your pussy deliciously. “So big shit," you moan, your cheek pressed against the counter as he fills you up to the hilt. “You can take it, baby,” Jungkook says between gritted teeth. He felt you clenching around him, having him on the verge of coming right there in an instant.

“Always so good for me, baby. Want me to fuck you so good, huh?” He whispers into your ear, and you clench around him, earning you another spank, ripping a loud moan out of you. “Fuck me," you stutter over the pleasure your lower belly is feeling. “That’s what I like to hear, baby,” Jungkook says before pulling his cock out, just leaving the tip in before slamming into you. Your mouth hangs open as he repeats the movements over and over again. “Fuck just like that,” you grip to the edge of the counter, your eyes close immediately, as his rough hands compare to your smooth skin, hold tightly to the sides of your hips, pounding into you from behind.

“This cunt is mine, right?” Jungkook groans, sliding his cock in and out of your walls. You could only reply with a loud moan. But that’s not enough for Jungkook; your boyfriend wraps his hand around your hair, pulling you upward and arching your back in the process. “Use your words, princess.” He orders in your ear, his movements never halting.

"Fuck—your pussy! Only yours,” you spit out whatever words you could make a sentence out of. “Fucking you dumb, huh?” He lets go of your hair and moves his hand around your neck, adorning it like a necklace and applying some pressure. "Mhmm,” you moan, trying to open your eyes but shutting close after Jungkook slams into you again.

The room fills with the wet clapping sounds, groans, and moans that keep spilling out of your guys mouths. Your fingers find your sensitive clit, applying pressure and drawing small circles. "Fuck—I'm gonna come!” Your legs shake beneath Jungkook, and his arm wraps around your waist in case your legs give out on you.

“Yeah baby? Gonna come for me?” He slaps your hand away from your clit replacing it with his. Your back arches against him, and his cock continues hitting your g-spot repeatedly, sending you over the edge.

“Oh fuc—“ Your words are cut short when the pleasure in your belly finally snaps, and Jungkook's fingers furiously move on your pussy, making you scream into your hand. Wetness pools on your feet, dripping down your legs. “Fuck so hot when you squirt,” Jungkook continues fucking you through your orgasm, the overstimulation has you shaking underneath him. “Too much fu-fuck,” you head drops to the counter. You clench, sending Jungkook over the edge.

“Coming,” your boyfriend's head drops to your shoulder, his movements becoming sloppy, springs of cum shooting inside you, moaning at the feeling.

His movements come to a halt, his mind foggy, his cock throbbing when he pulls out, making you whine, feeling empty.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath as he sees his cum dripping out of your hole. Without a second thought, he shoves it back in with his index finger. “Aw shit,” you moan at the sensitivity.

He chuckles, kissing your shoulder blade. “You were so good for me, baby.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses all over your back, breathing heavily. You are trying to catch your breath, and your legs feel like jelly, not being able to move from your current position.

“Mhm,” you hum softly, your eyes closing. "Baby, don’t fall asleep on me,” Jungkook smiles at you, picking you up in bridal style, making you to squeal.

"How the fuck can you be so cute after just getting railed?” Your boyfriend moves your hair out of your face as you try to snuggle into his chest. “You play too much,” you mumble.

Jungkook lays you down on the bed before disappearing into your guys bathroom; a couple minutes later, coming out changed and with a warm rag in hand, “here, baby open,” he coos motioning to your legs. You do as he says. He slowly cleans and wipes your center, making you moan from oversensitivity. “Almost done,” he says before giving a last swipe and throwing the rag somewhere in the room.

“Do you want a pill, baby?” He asks against your cheek, to which you nod. He stands up, walking to your side of the closet and getting you something comfy to wear. “Here. Be right back.” Jungkook leaves the clothes next to you and leaves the room.

As you change into your clothes, Jungkook waltz’s in with an ibuprofen and a glass of water on his other hand. “Here,” he says, waiting for you to poke your head out of his hoodie before handing you the small pill.

You swallow the pill without any complaints before dropping down on the bed. “So tired.” Your eyes close before you even hit the pillow, making him chuckle. “Worn you out, huh?” He teases before dropping beside you, pulling the covers over both of you. You immediately cuddle up to his side, feeding off the warmth he radiates. Your leg is over his torso, and your hand is on his chest.

“I love you, princess.” He whispers into your hair, leaving a small kiss on your forehead. “I love you; now let’s go, mimi’s." You kiss his clothed chest, hoping he can still feel the kiss.

[rogueddie]

Trinkets of Affection T | 700 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is not in the big things but in the small ones

Steve is Eddies first serious relationship. Even when he fantasized about what his future love life might be, he never thought he could get anything even close to what Steve gives him.

He loves with everything he is, Eddie quickly realized. If there's anything he can think of that might make Eddie smile, he does it. He turns up with flowers, or mixtapes, or rings.

One time he'd turned up with a paper rose that he'd made himself. He explained that he had thought Eddie might like things that were made, that took effort, more than expensive things.

He's right, of course.

But it all builds up, and Eddie wants to give Steve things too.

The first thing Eddie thinks to get him is a ring. He's noticed how much Steve's eyes linger on his own, how often he'll start playing with Eddie's rings when they hold hands, how he has favorites.

He can't simply buy Steve some ring he thinks he might like though. Anyone could do that. Eddie wants it to be special.

So, he digs through the tub he uses to organise all his rings. He separates them into two piles; rings he wears, and one he won't miss.

It's almost too easy to find one that Steve will like.

But, looking it over, he starts to doubt himself. Especially because it's not one of the rings he bought- it's the one he made.

The ring is painfully simple, and poorly made. Eddie is surprised it's lasted as long as it had.

It's little more than a a plain silver band with a cool rock he found on the ground stuck onto it. He can't even remember what he used to get it on there.

He had been so proud though. He had wanted to do something, and he did it.

He only hopes that he's right in thinking that Steve is as sentimental as Eddie thinks he is. That, or he also likes cool rocks.

"A gift?" Steve teases, immediately. "Aw, for me?"

"It's not much, it's..." Eddie awkwardly pulls the ring out, keeping it hidden in his fist. "I made it, like, years ago and... that seems like something you'd think was cool. Or, uh, romantic. Right?"

"Very romantic."

"Ok, uh... here."

Steve stares at the ring, dropped onto his palm, for a horrifyingly long amount of time.

"I know it's not-"

"You made this?" Steve cuts him off. He finally looks up at Eddie, with an unreadable expression.

"Well... yeah. I was only, like, thirteen so it's not very... uh... pretty?"

"What? No, Eds, this is- this is perfect."

He shifts the ring in his hands, before trying to squeeze it onto his pinky finger. It only just fits.

"I can get you something better."

Steve snorts, still looking at the ring as he turns his hand so he can see the different angles. "Good fucking luck," he mumbles.

Steve doesn't take the ring off that day, or that week, or ever. Eddie isn't sure he ever does take it off, outside of taking a shower.

"I don't want it to get, like, water damage!" Steve explained, when Eddie asked.

"It's just... isn't it annoying?" Eddie tried. "Wearing it all the time? It's clunky and-"

"And I like it. You made this, Eds. It's not a small thing to me."

"It's just a rock."

"Sure it is."

"Steve-"

"Eddie," Steve's tone is sharp enough that Eddie's mouth snaps shut. "This is something you made. It's your ring, and I get to wear it. Like... I can't tell everyone how much I love you, but this way I can at least show them."

"... oh."

"You get it now?"

"That- yeah. Yeah, I get it."

Steve glances around the shop before leaning in, stealing a quick kiss, before turning to the shelf in front of them. "Good. So, I was thinking this one might fit better. What do you think?"

"Yeah, it looks great."

But his eyes are still trained in Steve. He grins, barely paying attention to what he goes on to rant about, too lost in how his heart flutters when he glances down at his hand, at the ring he still wears.

[juuuulez]

🎧 | are we still friends?, michael berzatto.

don’t get green skin (green skin), keep contact (keep contact) / don’t say, "goodbye, smell you later" (bye, later) / nah, i can't / i don't want to end this season on a bad episode.

writing this was really fucking brutal for me. i’ll do something nice and sweet another time because this was rooouuughh.

Established Mikey/You, platonic Richie/You, generally just sad stuff.

request a playlist roulette here!

Being with Mikey was warm. That’s the only way you could describe it. Warm in the way he’d look at you, the way he smiled, laughed. His tendency to touch everyone. Kisses on cheeks and hugs from the side. You wanted that in your life, you welcomed it, warmth and love.

But now it’s cold and the cold is biting. It’s harsh and relentless, seeping through layers of black silk, penetrating the nice coat you bought for this occasion. The cigarette between your lips flares with each inhale, a reddened spark you cup your hands over, in futile hopes that it’ll give off heat. It doesn’t.

“Nice shoes.” You remark the second they’re in your vision, black and shiny. It’s not like you look up, either, staring down at the pavement and Richie’s pointed dress shoes. But you know it’s him: you can smell his cologne mixing with the smoke in the air, creating a scent that’s harsh and bitter but seemingly appropriate.

“Thanks,” He mutters, following your gaze. “Tiff bought ‘em.”

You want to make fun of him. Make some stupid remark, berate him for folding so easily, for doing what she says with no complaint. It’s what you would’ve done, what Mikey would’ve done: Lettin’ her make you pretty, huh? What— you gonna be wearing lipstick next? It’s so close yet so far, you can basically hear it, and you’re sure Richie can hear it too.

“She around here?” You end up asking instead.

And Richie shakes his head, already lighting up a cigarette. “Had to go relieve Eva’s babysitter. Some fuckin’ thirteen year-old from our street.”

“Yeah, well, one day she’s gonna be that thirteen year-old.”

The silence settles between you again, thick but not suffocating. Just there. You’re fine to leave it that way, you’ve been standing here regardless, leaning against a brick wall in the parking lot across from the funeral home. Five cigarette butts have fallen to your feet, and you intend on adding to the pile.

“Heading home after this?” Richie asks.

You don’t look up because you don’t want to see the look on his face. Worry. You hate worry, because you lived in worry. A perpetual fear, an anxiety settled deep in your gut, making your skin tingle and itch. But Mikey never seemed to mind; he taught you not to worry, to laugh more, to care less.

Look where that got you.

“Dunno,” You shrug, dropping the cigarette butt to the floor. It sizzles on some residual snow, which you squish down under your nice heels. “Was gonna try and back out of the lease.”

“Thought you loved that place?” Richie is quick to counter, “Y’know, green tiles and whatnot.”

It was a little apartment, one you’d found after hours of hunting. The green backsplash in the bathroom had caught your attention, and you’d spent days chatting anyone’s ear off about how you’d style it.

But now you shrug it off, appearing indifferent. “It’s not that big a deal.”

It’d been five weeks. Five weeks of domestic bliss, or, your equivalent to that. Of finding little trinkets and unique homewares to furnish the new place. Of getting excited after work, because you get to come home to your boyfriend, instead of an empty bed.

Boxes were still shoved into most corners of the place, not yet unpacked. For a moment you wondered if that was the intention. That, in not unpacking, Mikey was saving you the grief of eventually removing his presence from your place. He was making it easier, cutting out the middleman.

“Maybe Chicago isn’t for me.”

The words slip from your mouth before you can stop them, and you’ve finally looked up, meeting Richie’s gaze. It’s odd because he’s looking at you, and not at the same thing, like his mind is elsewhere. You get it. Your mind is also elsewhere.

“Fuckin’ stupid,” He mutters, shaking his head. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

So you shrug, another cigarette pinched between your teeth. You don’t remember lighting it. This weird haze has you on autopilot, you’ve been in it all morning. Maybe all week.

“I dunno. Might be good to get away for a bit.” You try to justify.

“Nah, fuck that. You’re not goin’ all alien on us,” Richie continues to contest. “There are people here for you. Y’know.. Tina ‘n all the cooks, and fuckin’.. fucking Fak, and Nat.”

“Natalie said—“

“I know what she fuckin’ said, it’s bullshit.”

Richie flicks out his cigarette, letting it drop into your little pile. His jacket is ironed and those shiny shoes are covered in snow, and for the first time in ages, he looks nice. You notice it. You notice the effort he’s put in, despite everything, and you know he feels the way you do.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” He begins. “You’re gonna come to The Beef once a week. Eat a sandwich, talk to us, ‘n shit. And you’re gonna come to family, too. Always.”

There’s a grimace on your face at the idea. Stepping foot in the restaurant seems like a colossal task, let alone attending family. Because that’s the thing, you weren’t family, not anymore. You’d hoped that one day you would be, for certain, a Berzatto. And now that wouldn’t happen.

“I’ll try.” You end up saying, even if dread builds in your stomach. It’s the most you can do.

Richie seems to understand, letting the silence linger for another moment. “C’mon,” He sighs. “We’re getting a drink. I’m gonna pull one smile outta you tonight.”

The notion of smiling, today, seems foreign. Yet you obey regardless, following along as Richie’s hand finds your back, and he swipes the cigarette from your mouth to throw into the snow.

It ends up being a good night. As good as it can be, at least. Each memory shared, each story told is laced with an underlying bitterness, something that settles on your tongue and behind your eyes. It’s thick and equally cold as the air; prickling like goosebumps. Richie feels it too. Everyone does, but you convince yourself that it’s not forever, that it’ll go away and the warmth will return.

[authenticaussie]

Alright so I just finished Batman:TAS recently and started watching Superman:TAS and it delights me that the first episode is literally just: superman??? Who dat. This is aliens :)) (even if Brainiac does say "human error, Jor-el"). So obviously I do now have aus. Obviously <3 shout-out to @midnightluck for the Justice League, @cer-rata for Terry and @suzukiblu for Jordan + putting up with the initial ramble

So anyway Brianiac's satellite upload gets fucked up by Jor-el either in petty revenge or as an accident, and a part of Brainiac ends up on Clark's ship. The vague explanation I have is that Brainiac is the AI for everything and in TAS, Jor-el also does not realise he is "evil" and thus still uses his help as a navigator for Clark's ship while he is initially building it. The ship, however, is offline to prevent the Kryptoninan council from finding out about it, and thus, that section of Brainiac does not get taken back into the satellite upload.

As it is BARELY the 90's when the Kents find Clark after the crash, Brainiac is summarily useless thanks to the current lack of wifi, but manages to mostly teach himself English and Kal kryptonian, and decides that. >:( since they're BOTH there, they can BOTH be vestibules of kryptonian knowledge. And also Kal can get him more earth knowledge. The vibes entirely are: "Weird aspects of kryptonian culture taught by an unbodied dickhead historian" and while the argument is "but brainiac is evil!" Main brainiac is. But this is a subsection of Brainiac :) he learnt more stuff + Clark loves him soooo much.

Unfortunately. That is His baby now. He is not impressed with his baby. His baby bought him a growing chick the other day, with big sad eyes, and said the kryptonian word for fluffy!!! in such a mournful tone that Brainiac resigned himself to teaching kal about how growing up worked and that the chicken needed feathers to fly. This explanation ends with Clark collecting feathers and trying to jump off the barn roof, and he thus resolves to extend further co-parenting issues to the Kents. For his own personal convenience, of course.

It does of course ALSO mean that Brainiac, who has a loose definition of the words "surveillance state" absolutely gets in at the ground floor when the internet first starts up. Clark's influence relegates him to the background, but he is good at hiding ! So they don't realise they have an AI in the wifi! But ohhhh boy does brainiac scare a few people at first. Potentially tries to do his "i am helpful" schtick before realising he is not useful in this because he's basically just. Seems completely like a troll? He's some random person who's invaded the internet!!

However he is also the inspiration for google 😂 and calls it his younger, stupider sibling. It is also funny to me to think about earth compsci engineers having NO idea why sometimes the internet acts SO DAMN WEIRD <- brainiac's fault.

As a result though, when Clark starts up as Superman, Brainiac does NOT let the Kr project off the ground. Files are misdirected and blackmail is gathered. Until one day Kal says something sad about how he'll never be able to have a great romance, because he's terrified of telling anyone the alien thing, and that he's always thought about kids but he's kinda terrified because what if he hurts someone- and Brainiac is like ah yes wait. I shall fix this for my Only Kryptonian.

TWO kids for the price of one?!? he finds, after he goes searching, and then further prodding finds THIRTEEN children, extraordinary. Not all of them are viable because the earth scientists truly are incapable but Brainiac can fix the issues with their technology to ensure Kal has the children he wants.

"How many children did you think of, kal-el?" he asks, and Clark laughs at how kindly his friend/uncle/grandfather figure treats his silly selfishness.

"Oh, man, sometimes I think: as many as I can carry! But then- I don't want Superman to get in the way of being a good dad. Too many and I won't be there for them like I should, you know? I worry about that, I guess."

"As many as you can carry is a significant amount," Brainiac says dubiously, already imagining teaching these numerous children kryptonian culture and Also that they are Not chickens. "I do not think that can be fulfilled effectively."

Five minutes later Clark has five children and has realised his matchbox apartment and budding romance with Lois Lane are both complicated things he will now have to resolve. He's basically commuting daily to the Daily Planet from Smallville, thank god for superspeed and his endlessly patient parents, jfc

(Children I was thinking of: the destablised kon!clone from SB94/The Ravers, Kon, Match, Bizarro, and Mia. Alternatively they went old-school with Biz so Brainiac didn't get a chance to help him/he's older than the other kids when Clark finally mentions wanting kids, to Brainiac, and thus Biz ends up like. The kids' uncle. There ARE technically twelve clones before Kon. I could've given you thirteen-fifteen kids, Clark.)

Anyway this does mean that either a) when Lois finds out Kal is superman this is not his biggest secret, b) Kon rocks up as Superboy and Lois, once she finds out Clark is Superman, immediately goes: WAIT BUT SUPERBOY'S YOUR KID. ARE YOU MARRIED??? or c) everyone at the Daily Planet thinks Clark just. Got really unlucky with different people he slept with and someone in the world's wildest stroke of luck they all ended up pregnant. Because Clark Does Not mention a partner when it is eventually revealed he has kids.

He probably does keep them a secret for a while though. A) He doesn't want them to have to try and be "normal" since they're only just out of the pod and B) I feel like, weirdly, Clark is somehow that co-worker that people like. barely know anything about. You like them and they're so helpful! and good-natured! and then you get him in the office secret santa and realise you're not even 100% what his favourite colour is or if he has a pet.

Anyway, Lois: he is NOT expecting Lois to get pregnant and they have to have a Long talk about it because Brainiac is. :) Being an asshole about species compatibility and the fact that it is "not natural" for Kryptonians to be created biologically rather than properly, in a pod, and also: Clark already has five freaking kids. That's a lot of kids! Are they going to be okay having a brother that much (at least five-ten years I'm thinking, depending on if we go: Brainiac gives him multiple children of multiple ages, or multiple young children of the same age,) younger than them??? And then there's Chris, too, who rocked up just after Clark and Lois started dating, and is still pretty high needs because he only mostly speaks Kryptonian (and is lowkey terrified of Brainiac, so Clark's main babysitter is out) (also please please imagine how freaking cute the subplot of "chris realises this brainiac is not the nightmare his stories told him about; watching his new siblings do things that Brainiac would have killed them for, terrified for them because he heard the stories of how long Brainiac bided his time--)

But this is also: how many kids can we give clark, the fic, and thus they have Jon, and then Jon exhibits so many kryptonian characteristics and Lois doesn't mean to but she's a little wine drunk and says, "i love them, you know, they're all perfect, Jon's perfect, I was just- I'm terrified for him. If we raise him right he's gonna be just like his dad…and you know what? I was wanting my own little Lane. Someone to follow my footsteps. I'm feeling a bit outnumbered here, haha!"

Brainiac: hm. I will amend this. (Makes and artificially grows human!Jordan so he displays more human genetic characteristics As Lois Wants)

Brainiac: I have created Jon-el's twin for you, Lane. You are welcome.

Lois: um what

Clark: honey no you can't talk about children with Brainiac he will make more

Lois: WHAT.

Lois: OUR CO-WORKERS KNOW I DIDN'T HAVE TWINS, KENT.

Clark: …. you're gonna have to be one of those weird "I didn't know I was still pregnant" stories…. 😂

Lois: 😭 Clark you know those are only funny when they are NOT HAPPENING TO ME

Clark: you didn't know you were pregnant….. literally

Lois must engage in the gaslighting of all of her coworkers <3 What do you mean you didn't realise she had twins she's shown you both of them? Of course they look the same they're babies. Of course she always had twins. She carried them. Did you carry her babies? Of course she would know. Isn't that right, Clark? …. isn't that right, Clark?

Clark: "Where else would she'a gotten a baby from, guys? An alien?"

Brainiac: hello i have delivered the child. Where is my thanks? It has still not been conveyed? I am doing the Literal Best as the Literal Best AI ever? Excuse me? You ignore Brainiac?

Brainiac: death for one thousand humans-!!!

Martha: 🥰 Brainiac I'm so proud of you for always making sure these kids are taken care of. Giving us Jordan! Oh, you marvellous robot

Brainiac: …. acceptable, Matriarch Kent

either that or Lois shoots herself in the foot and everyone thinks Clark is STILL the man with the world's worst luck and the strongest genetics ever:

"Lois, honey…how are Jon and Jordan so close in age? If they're not twins?"

"Uh- Jordan is adopted!"

Everyone: looks at Jordan, who is Jon's splitting image

Everyone: …..okay

Anyway because this AU is wildly cliche, very obviously the Bit of Brainiac that helped Clark grow up re-integrates with Brainiac prime during a Big Dramatic Battle where all of the Superfam are getting hurt, and manages to stop/halt Brainiac prime from hurting Clark and the Kryptokids at the cost of his existence.

Jordan gets to punch it in the circuits cause he's the only one not affected by kryptonite but still has the general invulnerability. (And then Jon and/or Kon and meeting the LoSH and they realise their grandfather Brainiac has very much been continued in Brainiac 5's code :3 for an open-ish happy ending of "hey good exists forever and always regardless of heritage")

GRANDPA LEARNS LOVE AND AFFECTION.

GRANDPA CHANGES FROM GENERAL SELF SERVICE AND SELFISHNESS AND REALISES HE LOVES KAL AND THE KENTS AND HE WILL PROTECT THEM

GRANDPA ALSO WANTS ACCESS TO THE INTERNET. There is a constant battle and it does work for a while because he is elected babysitter of the kryptokids and he is only a small part of Brainiac, five kids does stretch the circuits he developed from Clark's pod, but it's a constant cycle.

"Kal-el, son of house of el, I demand google, I have not finished investigating the 'man of Bats'. Why are there two variations of his name?"

"You mean Dark Knight?"

"THERE ARE THREE? KAL-EL, PROVIDE ME WITH THE WIFI IMMEDIATELY--"

Also when Brainiac finds out that Clark's birthday falls on a human holiday he. He tries. He tries to do pranks. Most of them are vaguely and accidentally evil (Chris cries when Brainiac takes over the internet for the day and makes every search engine answer questions wrong), but he tries. He knows Clark likes pranks! He is trying to participate! It's family bonding!!!

Braniac: It is your 33rd April fool's day.

Clark: Yep!

Braniac: I have finally decided to assist you with a prank.

Clark:...oh?

Braniac: Behold! (Small boy with dark hair, blue eyes and a square jaw walks in, dressed in a decent little suit.)

Clark: Braniac you CANNOT keep making...Wait. No. No you didn't--

Braniac: A prank to share with your closest friend!

Braniac: I have been calling him "Bruce" for my records, but you may want to pick something else for clarity.

Clark: 😦😳😬💀

(And thus we have Terry)

Also, while Clark is pretty secretive about his kids, when/if any of them go out with a Superfam name, and/or after he gets closer with the Justice League, there are little slip ups. He does really love his kids!!! And at the point where he's joined the JL he's been with Lois for a few years now and is used to mentioning them every now and then at the Daily Planet/trauma sure does bond you together :) and he trusts the core members of the JL pretty well. Someone makes fun of Bruce for his "hoard" of children and his "adoption problem" and Clark snorts and then chokes. Bruce has barely adopted Tim and/or has only just gotten Cass. Four? Please, Clark's almost at double digits.

Or Hal is talking about the fact that he doesn't know what to get his niece for her birthday; Clark asks how old she is, and goes "Seven? Oh, yeah. Go for Monster High, it's really big right now. The dolls are pretty cool."

"Lol why do you know so much about dolls, you have a secret collection-"

"What? No, my daughter likes them."

Hal:

Barry complains about how many birthdays he has to go to and Clark laughs. "Oh, tell me about it! Mia, Mark ((Match)), Chris and Mara all had birthday parties for their school friends in the same week - thank god for superspeed, right?"

Barry, who was talking about volunteering to visit kids' birthday parties at different orphanages in Central: Clark what are you talking about.

Also, Clark's an idiot and decides to introduce Brainiac's "prank" to Bruce on the watchtower because hey! It's neutral ground! And none of his kids can hear into space, thank fuck.

Clark: so....Bruce....you know how you were complaining about being an empty nester. Now that Damian's gone to college. Well. Hm. (pulls Terry from behind him) Surprise!

Bruce: .......You have a new child.

Clark: er. Well. sort of!

Terry, staring at Bruce like the autism creature: O_O

Bruce: .....I have a new child.

(also probably terry's backstory then includes some amanda waller induced kidnapping and potentially a bit of amnesia and adoption by another family but hey, he finds bruce again eventually!)

(also match does try and be the badboy of the family and does hang out with thad, when thad comes up to kill Bart, but. they both just. accidentally vaguely rehabilitate each other? They're not good, but they don't murder, at least. It's a low, low bar. When Clark tries to disappointed-face him, Match just says he's following in Grandpa Brainiac's footsteps and does Clark REALLY expect him to disregard a family legacy-- and you can give him some suicide squad angst or whatever, but the fam is still. there for him.)

(Mia and Kara get into a fist fight when they first meet; then they are best friends. Mia's not great at 'being Kryptonian', especially because she was one of the first attempts, and as per canon is technically a human who they tried to overwrite with Kryptonian DNA, and thus doesn't entirely understand Kara's connection to their 'home', but as a result she also ends up being Kara's confidant in it, because unlike Kal she does understand being taken away from your home and not being able to go back to it, and yet does not have...the same connection the way the other members of the Superfam do, and the disconnect allows Kara to actually talk about Kyrpton instead of mourn)

(Kon does try and grab the spotlight; Clark is trying to let him have freedom, after both Mia and Match went a bit....bitey at his attempts to keep them safe until they were older, but he's still the more naive of his siblings. Thankfully for Clark, he does get to introduce Kon to Robin, and while they don't hit it off, it is enough to mitigate the worst of the fallout of Rex's sleazy bs and Knockout's crimes ): When he joins YJ Clark is both proud of his heroism and a little scared that one of his kids is actually deciding to follow in his footsteps.)

(Mara is Kon's destabilised clone, from when he learns about paul westfield. We did not have enough girls in this family and thus part of their journey of self-identity was the fact that in a family of loud personalities they weren't great at speaking up; it takes a while for them to admit they want a new name and to use she/they pronouns, but by the time Jon and Jordan are five everyone's used to the change. Mara and Kon are closest, even though Kon and Mark/Match are technically sort-of twins; they clash waaay too much in temperament and personality. Kon was much better at playing protector to his little sibling, especially after they came out, and Mara shares "Supergirl" with Kara - she's only a backup member of the titans, though, and has the compassion and strength for heroism but sometimes too much empathy. Does a lot of relief work and peaceful outreach programs. They love a lot.)

(Chris?? no self sacrifice here!!! He has a bunch of fucking siblings with TTK, he is NOT going into that portal)

(There are two Nightwings; every now and then they debate who should switch to Flamebird, jokingly, and yet both of them have perfectly valid arguments - it's kryptonian! / I look good in blue! - and thus it never comes to fruition. When Mia and takes on Flamebird they give it up entirely; it helps that Chris ends up doing a lot of intergalactic work, so there isn't much confusion on earth with the call sign.)

When Jon is old enough to want to switch from Superboy he 100% puppydog eyes Chris into giving him the Nightwing handle so he can give it to Dami, and snags Flamebird from Mia. Dick decides he can live with that and is trying to take care of his own kid so is semi-retired (and can snag it back from Dami if he ever gets too bored).

For a bit there are def still two Flamebirds, but then Mia and Chris decide to team up for intergalactic stuff and to bully Mara into more fistfights, so then they're Trio and just go by Mar-El, Lor-Zod, and Mi-El. I know that is not how female names work on Krypron but I also think Lois Lane, who kept her name and also gave both Jon and Jordan her last name, hyphenated, heard of that shit and went "absolutely not". Either that or Mara decides to keep her Kryptonian name as Mar-El and Mia is Mia Kal-el, or copies her mom and is like naw Fuck This, especially considering her.....lack of general connection to Krypton? Could be fun for any :3 (Or maybe in space she just goes by Lane; time for her semi-mom to get recognition. Mara is already showcasing the house of El, Chris is rehabilitating the house of Zod, she's gonna kick butt for the house of Lois.)

....Though this does potentially mean i have accidentally called Match "Mat-el" and the Barbie jokes from that. Would be. Iconic.

Anyway that's the Grandpa Brainy au! Tune in next week when I force Cerata to watch Arthur and the Invisibles with me and start talking about bug-prince Kon-el and Lois' adventure to save her husband from a tiny evil overlord.

[goodoldfashionedengineer]

TUA Tumblr Simulator pt. 1

Find more here: pt. 2

—

🪩traumallama Follow

The Umbrella Academy never should have existed. Those were CHILDREN!! They were THIRTEEN when they first appeared! They KILLED people! Two of them DIED! It really goes to show how much you can do if you have money

FUCK Reginald Hargreeves

🌺thinkingthings Follow

Wait 5 DIED?!

🪩 traumallama Follow

It was never confirmed, but honestly, seems the most likely that they would have just covered it up. If he's still alive, I hope he got to live a nice life without that cult

10,846 notes

💗L0veOnLo4n Follow

Every journalist, interviewer, fan, whatever, who is asking Allison Hargreeves about her brothers or her father should just be sent to space. How would you like it if I bring up your childhood trauma constantly?

🌫️love-h4te-whatevs Follow

Didn't she like kill people?

💗L0veOnLo4n Follow

She was a CHILD! It was all planned by their father, he was the one who "trained" them. He should go to prison but that won't ever happen. Not to mention he didn't just adopt those children, he bought them

3,245 notes

🌌jupiters-moons Follow

WE GOT A BEHIND THE SCENES UMBRELLA ACADEMY BOOK OWNDNAOWOE

🌌jupiters-moons Follow

I am so excited to go read this

🌌jupiters-moons Follow

Starting off: WOW Reginald Hargreeves was an even bigger asshole behind closed doors. Who would have thought?

🌌jupiters-moons Follow

Okay, okay okay WHAT WHAT WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK?!!

ALLISON Hargreeves and Spaceboy were IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER?!

WEREN'T THEY LIKE SIBLINGS?!

I know the book says that they weren't really a family... But they were?? They are clearly described as brothers and sisters?

🌌jupiters-moons Follow

Had to put the book down for a while

Gosh, that so surprised me

I used to have the BIGGEST crush on Spaceboy but now I doubt I can think of them the same way ever again

🌌jupiters-moons Follow

Calmed down, I'll continue now

🌌jupiters-moons Follow

BIG MISTAKE, BIG MISTAKE

WHY ARE YOU TELLING US ABOUT THE TIME YOUR MOTHER TOLD YOU AT DINNER THAT YOUR BROTHER HAD HIS FIRST WET DREAM!

That does NOT belong in a book!

🌌jupiters-moons Follow

Drug addiction by age 13, damn

🌕eyestothesun Follow

Wait who was addicted to drugs

🌨️twirlingandwhirling Follow

The Séance. Kinda surprised so many people are shocked about this. There are quite a few interviews with them in which it is just blatantly obvious. Look at his eyes in this one for example. Or in this one he is so chill, not really there, but his siblings do all the talking

🌳drrrrreams Follow

Wow first time I've heard about this but this is so... Incredibly sad.

👥lurkeringlurrlurr Follow

Honestly? I'm more surprised that not more of them are addicts after all they've been through

🌌jupiters-moons Follow

Thanks for the additions!

Five's tragical disappearance. This is the worst part of it by far. They were so close and you can just feel the grief. And to never know what happened, damn

And one of their brothers can see dead people...

I don't know if I'd want to ask him or not. Asking for closure's sake, but if you don't, there is still hope that he'll come back some day.

This is just so sad

🌌jupiters-moons Follow

Spoke too soon, it can get sadder

Ben was their glue, his death was so brutal. He died so young and so painful, I can't imagine what that must be like. For him or for the siblings.

No wonder they disbanded after that. It makes you question your own mortality

8,799 notes

🚵rolly-molly Follow

Wait what happened to Spaceboy? Did he give up on missions and move out?

🤺theyseemen0t Follow

He died

🚵rolly-molly Follow

WHAT

🤺theyseemen0t Follow

I mean, it was never confirmed, but he got really badly injured on his last mission, lethally, and hasn't been seen since

🚵rolly-molly Follow

I had no idea. Rest in Peace

🍇thelandbeforewine Follow

False news, he got injured, but he survived. Otherwise we would have known about it from "Extra Ordinary" which came out last week, given that all the other family secrets were shared in it.

🚵rolly-molly Follow

Ohh, thank you so much! That makes me really happy, I was really worried

2,840 notes

[icariusdexx]

Just a silly tbb incorrect quotes #1

Crosshair : They don't make them like me no more. I'm the last of my kind.

Tech : thank god.

Omega : what is Which is correct, seven and five IS thirteen, or seven and five ARE thirteen?

Tech: Neither.

Tech: Because it's twelve.

Hunter: Don't worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve.

Tech: I think you mean cards.

Hunter, pulling knives out of their sleeves: No, I do not.

Hunter: You bought a taco?

Crosshair: Yes.

Hunter: From the same truck that hit Tech?!

Crosshair, with a mouthful of taco: Well, me starving ain't gonna help them.

Omega: Do you ever feel bugs on you when really there's nothing there?

Crosshair: Those are the ghosts of the bugs you killed before.

Omega:

Omega: *sobs*

Tech: You fucking scared them, you idiot.

[suzukiblu]

Day four of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

"Dead," Tim says, because it's not like it's a secret in the community or anything. "Joker happened to him."

And a lot of other things. Sheila Haywood and Felipe Garzonas and Bruce's eternal control-freak paranoia and constant inability to just talk, to name a few. But Joker, in the end.

Still, Tim can't help thinking about the chances to have avoided what happened to Jason. Especially when thinking about what's currently happening to Kon.

If Kon gets taken advantage of or hurt or killed because no one's paying enough attention . . .

Tim takes another drink.

"That sucks," Kon says with a grimace. "No wonder Batman goes all weird mama Bat on you all the time."

Tim chokes on an incredulous laugh and also a mouthful of soda, because Bruce is definitely not that and this isn't something to make light of either, but–

But also, he thinks about how no one ever goes "weird mama Bat" on Kon. No one ever has, as far as he knows.

No one takes care of him at all.

Tim really, really doesn't like that. Kon shouldn't have to rely on working for people who think they can build custom-designed personal-use superheroes based off of stolen dead bodies and are constantly making clones that are just inhuman-looking enough to not be able to blend into society outside the lab, and therefore don't have a choice about where they live or what they do with their lives.

Maybe it's not as bad as it sounds, or at least not as malicious as it sounds, but it's still the results of what Cadmus is doing either way. Kon has the option of being a superhero, at least, but he also has a custom-designed face that looks exactly like the face of one of the most famous heroes in the sector and was given absolutely no idea how to either establish or support a civilian life, so that's just about his only option.

Aside from, again, just working for Cadmus for the rest of his life.

Tim definitely hates the world.

"Please don't call it 'going mama Bat'," he says to distract himself.

"Please tell me what else you'd call it," Kon says.

"Micromanaging," Tim replies matter-of-factly, and Kon chokes on a laugh of his own.

"What, is being Robin your after-school job?" he teases. Technically it is, Tim supposes, but he doesn't exactly think of it that way.

"I consider it more of an unpaid internship," he says, since explaining the whole "emotional support sidekick" thing would probably damage Bruce's Bat-mystique, and if he tells Kon the full story there he's basically telling all of Young Justice. Kon barely seems to understand the concept of secrets, much less the concept of keeping them. "Like I get an expense account but not a paycheck, you know? And sometimes we get cookies in the Batcave."

"Cookies. In the Batcave," Kon echoes, his eyebrows shooting up. "Are they bat-shaped?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Tim replies with a pleasant smile. Alfred doesn't usually bother with anything quite that on the nose, but according to Dick there are Halloween cookie cutters in the kitchen that he's not above bringing out when Bruce has been being especially ridiculous, so . . .

"Oh my god," Kon says delightedly. "Does he make them himself? Is there a Bat-apron? A Bat-oven? Or does he just order them special from the Bat-bakery?"

"There is not a Bat-bakery," Tim says, trying not to laugh again. Goddammit, Kon shouldn't be so fucking funny all the time. He's not even that funny, objectively; Tim is just a smitten idiot.

"So there is a Bat-apron?" Kon says with a smirk.

"I plead the fifth," Tim says, since explaining the novelty Halloween apron Jason bought Alfred when he was thirteen is not actually on the table. Details compromise identities, loose lips sink ships; all that.

"Listen, man, Cadmus doesn't have a bakery unless you count the test tubes they cook us up in," Kon says with a snigger, grabbing himself another slice. Tim thinks thoughts about incendiary devices. "They buy our cookies frozen or just get the industrial-sized pudding cans. Or make bread pudding, the bastards. So you gotta tell me about the Bat-cookies."

Tim winces at the thought of industrial-sized pudding cans and bread pudding, because that sounds absolutely horrifying and he never, ever wants to taste industrial pudding. Ever.

"Well, they're definitely not frozen," he says. "But Nightwing started being Robin a lot younger than I did and the last Robin started younger than me too, so I think I'm just reaping the benefits of younger kids needing after-patrol snacks and everyone else getting in the habit of it."

"I could get into that habit," Kon says musingly as he tears a bite off his newest slice. Tim immediately resolves to order takeout after every possible Young Justice mission that he can. Or they could go get ice cream or something, he doesn't know. "What do you think, wanna make me Bat-cookies sometime, Rob?"

Every weekend for the rest of their respective lives, although Tim would never actually say that. He's not even a good baker. He doesn't even like to bake.

This crush is definitely a problem.

"You're not Gothamite enough to handle Bat-baking, Kon," Tim says dryly, and Kon sniggers.

He also ducks his head a little, looking . . . oddly soft, for a moment. Tim doesn't understand why, until he realizes–oh. It's because he just called him "Kon", isn't it. He wasn't even thinking about it; just did it reflexively.

Tim is pretty sure he needs to ruin the credit of every single "responsible" adult in Kon's life for not naming him sooner. Well–Dubbilex can have a pass, considering he was also made by Cadmus and his own name is Dubbilex, so it probably never occurred to him that "Superboy" wasn't a perfectly acceptable name. And also he probably doesn't have credit either. But all the rest of them, definitely and for sure.

Superman is getting an envelope of powdered Kryptonite in his fucking mailbox, to start. Or maybe Tim could aerosolize it and pepper-spray him with it. That might work.

"You don't know, I could be," Kon huffs, putting on a mock-offended expression. "I was born and raised in a lab, I'm way tougher than the average guy."

"A Metropolis lab," Tim says pityingly. "Might as well be a kindergarten science class."

"Oh fuck you, Batboy!" Kon protests with a laugh. "Tell that to the next alien invasion."

"Aliens know better than to invade Gotham," Tim says. Kon laughs again. It's–weirdly nice, honestly. Usually Kon's too busy trying to act cool in front of whatever "audience" he thinks they have to actually, like . . . just talk all that much or anything. And also usually he gets offended really easily or starts being annoying about something he doesn't know as much as he thinks he does about or just . . . something.

Tim admittedly is less and less annoyed and more and more endeared by that kind of stupid behavior these days, but still. It's the usual pattern their interactions follow.

He guesses they're actually just, like, hanging out right now. It's not like there's a bad guy or a crisis or even any teammates around or training to do, so . . .

Yeah. He guesses they're just hanging out.

Kon decimates the pizza and wings, Tim pretends to be helping and takes a few mental notes on how much Kon is eating and what that may or may not say about his required caloric intake, and they just kind of keep . . . hanging out, really. And they talk, at least as much as Tim lightly interrogating Kon and subtly evading providing any personal identifying information counts as "talking".

Tim really doesn't know if the guys at school or Young Justice are more authentically his "friends", at this point, but at least Young Justice knows there are things they don't know. Everyone from school . . .

Not so much, with them. They all only know Tim Drake, and none of them have any reason to suspect the existence of Robin. Young Justice only knows Robin, but at least they know there is a Tim Drake somewhere, whether they know him or not.

Maybe they are the ones who are more his friends, thinking of it that way.

It'd explain why things never really go anywhere with civilians and he's developed this stupid inadvisable crush on Kon, at least. Though not why things fizzled with Steph, since she knows Robin better than anyone in Young Justice. If he should be having a stupid inadvisable crush on anyone, at least it could've been someone with an equally stupid and inadvisable crush on him.

Unfortunately, he and Steph have officially friend-zoned each other and also Kon exists, so Tim is having his stupid inadvisable crush on an alien hybrid metahuman clone in a terrible living situation with stupid taste in sunglasses and a mysteriously infinite-seeming supply of leather jackets. So now Tim is in this situation and his supervillain timeline needs recalculated, and also he's going to be buying Young Justice so much takeout to make sure Kon gets to eat something that isn't cafeteria food in a way he won't get offended by.

Hopefully, anyway.

"Well, I'm glad the new job's working out," Tim comments eventually, after some very careful conversational maneuvering, and Kon . . . pauses.

"I guess," he says after a moment, picking olives off the remains of his current slice and not quite looking at him as he says it. Tim resists the urge to absolutely pounce on the blood in the water and makes himself wait. "I mean, it's fine, it's not like it's bad there. Like, I don't love that it's my only real option and I don't love the same lab that made me out of DNA that it literally got out of a literal grave being in charge of me, but it's not like Westfield's still running the place or anything. So like, could be worse."

Tim hates the world. All of it. Seriously. Alfred's snickerdoodles get an exception and that's it. Nothing else.

"I'm sure it'll all work out," he says, because yeah, he officially needs to actually do something about this. He doesn't know what something, but something. If he doesn't, who else is going to?

Kon puts on a fake grin and says something stupid and easy in reply, the comment lighthearted and dismissive and a screamingly obvious coping strategy from someone who doesn't see any way out of their current situation but through, and Tim . . .

Tim finishes his Zesti and starts to think.

[chesirecatsmile]

could u write maxiel getting matching tattoos plssss

it’s 2am after their first las vegas grand prix when daniel meets him at the hotel lobby. he’s holding two bottles of beer, and they are cold when he presses them on max’s naked arm.

“oi,” he says, laughing loudly and pushing max a bit with the bottle until he steps over his feet and tries to stay up as much as his champagne fuzzed brain allows him to.

“fuck off,” max says, snatching the bottle and pressing it on daniel’s cheek, “let’s get out of here.”

they have this thing, after races. ever since the red bull days, whoever finishes behind in the race has to buy the other a beer.

daniel has bought max a lot of beers these last few years.

and so here they are. almost 8 years later and daniel is bringing max a beer and smiling at him.

“you wanna… go to my room?”

that’s another thing they do, ever since the red bull days. daniel will look at him with shiny eyes and a big grin and ask max if he wants to go to bed with him. and max will say yes sometimes and some other times he will say no, if he’s not in the mood or he’s got someone else to fuck.

but not today, “lead the way.”

the sex is good. but the sex is always good with daniel. max lets him fuck him like no one else has before, dirty and raw and all over the room.

they lay in bed afterwards and hold each other and pretend it doesn't mean anything when they both know it does.

max is tracing his fingers on ink, carefully following a wing on a butterfly and then a petal on a flower. daniel makes a noise and closes his eyes, ignoring him completely.

“how many do you have?” he speaks into the quiet of the room.

“tattoos?” daniel says in that soft accent that max likes so much, “i have no idea.”

max hums and continues his tracing, moving on to an envelope and pusing higher and higher until his hand is resting on daniel’s ass and squeezing.

“you like them?” daniel says, kissing max’s chest and leaving small bites on his pecks, smiling when max gasps softy.

max nods and when daniel opens his eyes, he’s is looking at him back. his eyelids droppy from what max can tell is a pleasant buzz in his belly.

his lashes are so long and they are so close max can count every single freckle on his nose. so he does, 1, 2, 3, 4…. he counts freckles to distract himself from the feeling of alcohol in his system and the need to run away that’s always on the back of his mind.

“we should-” daniel starts.

“get a tattoo,” max blurts out for no reason.

daniel leans back and stars at max, his eyebrows furrow for a second before they raise in amusement. “and what would we be getting, maxy?”

max feels his heart beat hard in his chest. he can’t really back out now. he’s never liked the idea of tattoos, until daniel, that is.

daniel, with his intricate patters on his thigh, the way he will tell you what each of them means as he lets your fingers trace them. daniel, who gets hard and lets you suck his dick if you say his tattoos are hot.

the idea of having something related to daniel on his body forever is definitely something he can get behind. he just can’t believe he’s okay with it after never thinking about tattoos in his life, and that daniel has no questions or doubts and is immediately asking what they should get.

“i-” max licks his lips and thinks, for a good minute, “our race numbers?”

“thirteen?” daniel smiles and lets himself fall back on the pillows, smile widening, “come kiss me.”

“i meant three hundred thirty three.” max says and slides closer, his thigh on top of daniel’s their crotches pressing together.”

“i know, i just like the way you say three.” daniel kisses him, bites his bottom lip and doesn't let him protest. max pillows his elbows on each side of daniel’s head, throws his leg all the way over and straddles him.

“hey,” daniel says, starting up at him with interested eyes, “what are you up to?”

max shifts his weight and doesn’t say anything, just stares at daniel for a long minute. “would you…”

“what?" daniel’s hands findmax’s ass and he squeezes, his voice getting lower, “you want to go again?”

max lets out a breath, and daniel’s mouth quirks up at the corner, “just say what you want.”

“sit on your face,” max whispers. his eyes slam closed, afraid to see what comes next, but daniel just rubs his palms against the soft skin of max’s upper thighs.

“come here,” daniel says with an exhale, letting max shuffle up until his thighs are on either side of daniel’s grinning face.

daniel reaches around, pulling max down by the meat of his ass, and then he's lifting his head so that he can drag his tongue up, coming to press against his hole.

it feels so good and max settles himself down more firmly, hips straining back into the slickness of daniel’s tongue. he’s sloppy about it, spit already dripping everywhere, making max groan and roll his eyes.

his hands come up, roughly spreading max’s ass open so that he can lick him more firmly, and he moans loudly, embarrassingly. it feels like it's punched out of him, and daniel chuckles softly against him before withdrawing, one finger slipping to the side and sinking into max to replace his tongue.

"you like that?" he asks. "you like me getting you all wet, baby?”

max doesn't respond, just arches his back and pushes his ass out, silently begging. the message seems to come across loud and clear, because then daniel’s tongue is back, lapping at him like he can't bear the thought of another moment passing in which he isn't doing just this. he thrusts his finger roughly inside of max, opening him up and demanding that he make space for him inside, and when his body has given in to that demand, daniel just adds another.

it has max's knees shaking even as he grinds back, desperate to get more of anything, the hard press of daniel’s fingers inside of him or the slick interruption of his tongue between them. but then daniel’s wandering, his tongue flicking down over max' balls, sucking lightly until max keens and shifts further back to daniel’s shoulders.

he feels daniel smile before he brushes his lips over max’s dick softly before taking it in his mouth, sucking it down until max cries out, hips jerking forward.

daniel’s mouth is so hot and wet around him; max can feel the soft ridge of his teeth against the head, and then daniel clenches his fingers on the meat of his ass as he lets max thrust in his mouth over and over.

the sensation is so good, so perfect, that max plants his hands on the mattress above daniel’s head, giving himself better leverage to roll his hips into his mouth. he tilts his head down so he can watch his dick sliding out and then back in, daniel’s lips stretched obscenely around him, his eyes half-lidded in concentration.

maybe he could do this faster, harder, fuck daniel’s mouth like he really wants to, but he loves the view far too much. loves letting daniel have control.

when he starts getting closer, panting softly, max sits back up. daniel’s fingers stir inside of him again, rubbing against his prostate and sucking on him harder now, and max's hands reach down, one cupping daniel’s face, the other carding roughly through his hair. he wishes he could do this all the time, not only after a beer and a race.

but the thought that he might never have this again makes it hotter, better. he feels overloaded and shaky, and daniel only rubs harder inside of him until he tugs frantically at his hair, trying to get him to draw back.

"please," he begs. "i’m gonna-"

daniel just sucks more firmly, fingers crooking inside of max, and with a long moan. max is coming down his throat, long pulses forcing his body into shivers. his fingers fist tight in daniel’s hair as he thrusts slowly against his tongue, determined to get every last drop of come down daniel’s throat.

when it becomes too much, he shifts back, hurriedly pulling off daniel like he’s hurting him. he crawls off of daniel, laying down in silence, and daniel curls around him, nosing gently at his neck.

"we need to get a tattoo," daniel says against max’s ear. "three hundred thirty three.”

[astaraels]

so I know I'm in the no galladads side of the fandom but hear me out on this one—

so it's maybe five years after the end of the show, Ian and Mickey are still going with their security business, maybe they've even branched out and hired some extra help, making good money, swapped out the stolen ambulance for actual SUVs that Debbie has fixed up for them, and they've maybe even bought a house back on the South Side with a dog and a cat and they're close to all of Ian's siblings (Debbie and Carl and Liam all still live in the old Gallagher house, Lip and Tammi are a few blocks over)

and one day they're on a lunch break together, leaving some diner when some rando kid bumps into Ian, turns out it was a pickpocket, and Mickey takes off after the jerk who tried to steal from his husband (he may not be a South Side thug anymore but like hell is he gonna let that shit slide)

he knocks the pickpocket over and it's some kid, like thirteen or fourteen with bright pink streaks in her dark hair and fierce brown eyes, and Mickey is like wtf kid do you wanna die

and the kid is like oh fuck you, very much an angry kitten type because she's definitely a scrawny thing—by this time Ian's caught up to them and his bleeding heart is like look if you give me my wallet back I'll buy you lunch (Mickey complains that "we just ate, Gallagher" but Ian insists)

so they either go back to the diner or find some McDonald's and this kid practically inhales some burgers and fries, and both Mickey and Ian know the look of a kid on the streets, but she's giving off those vibes that say don't touch me don't talk to me don't fucking perceive me

but Ian probably sees something like Mickey, and Mandy, in this girl and we all know he wants to help people, so he asks her if she's okay or if she needs anything, and even though he can feel Mickey starting to grumble next to him Ian still offers her their couch to crash on after she mentions getting kicked out of a salvation army shelter because they found out she was trans

and after some very intense eye to eye communication between the husband Mickey's like okay yeah fine but if one thing is outta place in the house then we're gonna have words

and the girl—they find out her name is Starr, or something like that—is like wtf why are you people being nice (they understand the suspicion, obvs, they aren't stupid), and Ian's like uhhhh we're gay and we've gone through some shit of our own so maybe we just wanna help?? (although he does notice she relaxes a little bit when he tells her that they're gay)

so they drive back home and Starr is absolutely enamored by the gallapets (a beautiful fluffy black cat and a big pittie mix, both of these animals are Ian and Mickey's baby girls), while Ian fixes up the spare bedroom with fresh sheets—usually it's where Franny or Fred stay when they come for weekend visits

and at first Starr is like okay yeah I'll stay one night but then I gotta go, and somehow it ends up that one night turns into two, then Ian and Mickey come home one afternoon and the house looks amazing because Starr is like "yeah your place was a fucking mess so I figured I'd clean" because she's not a freeloader gdi

and before they know it she's been there for a few weeks and Ian's trying to help get her back in school, because one night they were sitting around and talking and she offhandedly said that she does kinda miss school but the last place she went they were assholes about her transition, and Mickey is like just do that homeschooling course thing that maybe Tammi talked about one of her bougie friends doing for their kids

and then it's been a month or two and they bring Starr to a Gallagher family get together—Debbie hosts the family at the house at least twice a month, but everyone's been super busy lately so it's been a while since the last family dinner—and Debs gives Starr a hug and is like "oh so you're the kid my brothers adopted" (she and Sandy worked things out btw and have been back together for a while now, they've even maybe talked about getting married)

and Starr is like oh no I'm just crashing for a bit but by this point Ian has already got her the homeschooling correspondence courses, and Mickey's taken her to find a doctor who can prescribe her HRT ("it was on our route anyway, fuck off, Gallagher") and their pets adore her—Ian jokes that their cat is the one who actually adopted Starr, they just went along with it

and basically I just love the idea of them taking care of a young queer girl, and being like the cool gay uncles, and yeah :')

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen

TW: nsfw, angst

You wake up to the smell of bacon, coffee, and something sweet in the skillet.

Usually such a thing would mean you are dreaming, and you need to wake your ass up before you’re late for work. But you roll over to look into your tiny kitchen, finding a sight fit for Playgirl Magazine before your disbelieving eyes.

Dear Penthouse, I can’t believe this actually happened to me…

Detective Tom Ludlow is in your kitchen, making pancakes…in nothing but a towel around his trim waist. His dark hair is combed back, still wet from the shower. His broad shoulders are something to write home about–Kansas farm boys had nothing on this beautiful specimen of masculinity.

Had the night before even been real?

As though he senses your return to consciousness–or maybe the weight of your gawker’s stare upon him–he turns to look at you. “Morning, beautiful.”

You blink with surprise, because he is talking to you.

“Hi,” you greet, clever as ever, and goddammit but are you blushing?

“Whacha looking at?” he teases, spatula in hand. The very picture of domestic bliss. God help you, but in that moment you were 300 percent ready to put a ring on this man.

“Just…the most best thing I’ve ever seen,” you admit, knowing you’ll kick yourself for it later.

However, the smile he pays you, smug yet somehow gentle–it fries your brain entirely.

“Likewise, sweetheart.” He crosses the short space with a few long strides to press his lips to yours. “You like pancakes with blueberries?”

You’d bought the ingredients–and promptly stuck them in the cupboards–for just such a purpose, thinking that someday, when you had time, and weren’t bone fucking tired from working 12 hour shifts days in a row, you’d make a point to treat yourself.

Funny, how that never happened, until Tom Ludlow came around.

Here you are, getting emotional about blueberry fucking pancakes.

“Yes,” is the only answer you can muster, and he kisses you so sweetly that it curls your toes.

His soft smile down at you will be the death of you. “Sleep well?”

“Like a well-fucked rock,” you tell him, winning a bark of masculine laughter. 

“Likewise, beautiful. Definitely likewise.” He vacates the couch to flip his pancake. You continue to stare, still dumbfounded.

“Tom?” you ask, still struggling to wake up.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Did last night…actually happen?”

“Sure did. Don’t you remember driving to Vegas? We got the best Elvis in the building.”

You blink stupidly for a few moments, before registering his absolutely shit-eating grin.

“Very funny. And the joke would be on you, if you married me on a drunken lark.”

“Why?” he asks, seemingly amused by your discomfort.

“I told you. I’m a fucking mess.”

“Far as I can tell? You’re fucking perfect, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.” 

You’re not really sure why this pithy little compliment brings tears to your eyes, your lip quivering. Only a beat later does he notice, and he rushes over again.

“Hey, hey, no crying, baby, I’m sorry. What’s wrong? I was just joking.”

You swipe at your eyes with the heels of your hands, embarrassed. “You’re just..so sweet, and I actually fucking believe you, when you say this shit, ok?”

He blinks, but god bless, it only takes him a moment to assess, and act. He presses his soft lips to yours, then his forehead to your forehead, as though he can will you to accept his declarations through osmosis. “Believe it,” he tells you. “It’s true…well. Not the Elvis bit. We can do that next weekend if you want.”

You know he’s joking…but it still doesn’t fail to utterly melt your insides. This man who manhandled and harrassed you has turned out to be the biggest fucking softy, and you just might lose your shit.

You’ve already cried in front of him too many times, though, so you play it off and act like what he’s saying is no big deal. “Really? I think I’d rather have Michael Jackson instead.” 

You wonder if he misses being married. If he fucked his wife like he’d fucked you last night…you can’t fathom stepping out on him. But then you also know, that sometimes cops can also be married to their jobs. It could make for a difficult threesome. You imagine going without him, while he was working an intense case, would be absolute hell.

Tom snorts. “Whatever floats my lady’s boat,” he answers, flipping another pancake onto the stack. He ports them to the table with a flourish. “Come eat, sweet girl. You gotta work today?”

“Later. Unfortunately.”

He sticks his full lip out in a pout that should be illegal on a grown ass man. “Then eat quickly, because I’m not done with you yet.” he informs you with a wicked smirk that causes a brand new flood between your already sticky thighs. 

He turns, that broad, tapered back on full display, to finish plating breakfast, and you can’t not watch the tight muscle in his butt shift in the thin towel. You get this sudden strange urge to sink your teeth into him and latch on, and wonder if ancient cavewomen bit their partners to lay claims. Because that’s what Tom Ludlow works on—the part of your spongy brain that developed before speech and theory—the part that wants to bite and howl. 

Evolution is a bitch. 

Oh no, he can cook. And cook good. The pancakes he sets in front of you, drizzled with honey and topped with fresh blueberries, taste like a fluffy heaven in your mouth. Even the coffee is splendid, done up blonde and sugary just the way you prefer. “Tom, damn,” you compliment between mouthfuls. “You went out to get blueberries?” It’s selfish, but the thought of him leaving you alone even to run out and grab something for you makes your insides twist uncomfortably. 

“Oh, no, I borrowed some from your neighbor.” 

Of course at that moment you have an entire mouthful of coffee that you almost spray on his bare, beautiful chest. “What?!” 

He adopts a bemused smile. “Very nice lady.”

“Please tell me you had more than just a towel on?” 

“Less, actually.” 

He bursts into laughter and the astonished look on your face. 

“I’m gonna kick your ass, Ludlow.” 

“She asked me something really interesting.” He wipes a little honey off your top lip and sucks it into his mouth, making you dumb enough to forget you’re annoyed. “She asked me if I’m the nightmare?” 

“I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

“You are a terrible little liar, you know that? I can see your tell from a mile away.” 

“Oh, what is it?” You smirk, shove a bite of pancake into your mouth. 

“You’re lucky I’m hungry,” he threatens, playful and promising, sending a thrill through your chest. 

You grab a glob of honey on your finger and kitten lick it off, almost bold enough to make direct eye contact with him for more than five seconds while you’re doing it. “Or what?” 

He pops up from his seat, and your first instinct is run. Run away. You make it two steps before he has you grabbed around the waist and is dragging you back to his place at the table. 

Your squeals of nervous laughter crescendo into a moan when he pulls you down onto his big cock. It surprises you as much as it did last night, how well he fills and stretches you. Not a piece of your fluttery hole unpunished by his silky, maddening pressure. You immediately grind, eager for that pressure to shift and rub and build you, but he stills you with a mitt on your waist. 

Then his big hands bunch in the ruffled fabric of your sundress, which somehow you never managed to remove amidst both of your eagerness to get to other parts of you instead. Slowly he draws it up over your head, tossing it away somewhere across the room. Before you can even begin to think about feeling self conscious he makes a low sound of appreciation behind you, running his hands down your curves. 

“So fucking beautiful. I just wanna stay inside this pretty little pussy all day,” he tells you, smoothing his wet tongue across your shoulder. You arch into him, and he nips your skin for the retaliation. “Feel her throb while I tell you what I wanna do to her. Jesus, you’re soaked.” 

You try to squeeze your thighs together for precious friction on your clit, but he tugs them back open, chuckling at the pathetic attempt. “You wanna fuck yourself, baby?”

“Yes. Fu-uhck.” 

“Want me to pet that pretty clit while you ride me?” He kisses up your neck, into your hairline, tugs your ear between his teeth and you see white fire. 

“Yes, Tom. Yes. Please.” 

“Then eat your breakfast.” 

It’s impossible to focus on the delicious food anymore. The chunks of stuff getting forked into your mouth are no match for the small taste of him. It isn’t long before he’s done with silverware and hand feeding you, making you lick and suck his sticky fingers clean. 

“Atta girl. Keeping me all warm and cozy.” His mouth traces circles on your upper back that make you twitch and gasp while his heavy pointer and index finger rest on your tongue, sweet and salty-pleasure and pain-the desire to move trumping all of it. 

When his fingers trail up your side and land on your nipple, rolling and pinching, you clench your thighs shut again. He grunts at you, although you think it was meant to be a sound of disapproval before you clenched deliberately on his cock. 

“You want to cum?” 

“Yessss.” 

“Then open your legs back up.” 

You obey with a groan of frustration, widening your hips so that the tantalizing pressure is off your throbbing clit. That means all you can focus on is having him inside you, and that would be great if he would just fucking thrust. 

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He grabs your hips to hold you in place. “You’re busy.” 

“Could be important,” you say. 

“More important than this?” He grinds up, into your cervix, into all the sensitive soaked walls of your cunt, and the answer to his question is no. Absolutely not. There is nothing more important than him or his cock. 

“Tom,” you hiss. 

He sighs. “Alright. I’ll get it. Get dressed.” 

How empty you feel, when you slide off of his cock as you stand on trembling legs. He halts your progress by gripping your hips, pressing his mouth to the curve of your buttocks. You forget about the door, and everything else, turning in his arms so that he can bury his face in your cleavage. “These beautiful–” He kisses one breast cupped in his hand, “Naughty,” a kiss for the other, just beside your nipple, the tease, “titties are in so much trouble.” He sucks on your perked nipple with a pop, making you cry out. 

Knock knock knock.

“Someone’s fucking determined,” he grumbles against your skin. 

Reluctantly you manage to pull away from him, and you remember this state of the art technology in your door called a peephole. Naked as a jaybird, you peer through the tiny lens–and gasp at the sight on the other side.

This clearly interests Tom, his head canting at an angle in question. You shake your head, just knowing a perfect storm is brewing. “It’s no one. Ignore it,” you say quietly, hoping they don’t hear you on the other side, praying they have the sense to go away. You try to distract Tom again with kisses and by trying to pull him towards the bedroom, but dammit this man is solid as a fucking tree when he doesn’t want to move.

“Who is it?” he asks with a lifted brow.

Knock knock. “Y/n? I know you’re home.”

Goddammit.

What can only be described as a wicked grin spreads over Tom’s handsome features. “Oh. Let’s say hello, shall we?” 

[capseycartwright]

tidbit tuesday because i’m writing fic again and not only writing fic but enjoying writing fic therefore have the unstoppable impulse to share. ok good.

More than anything, Buck hated how no matter how he tried to intervene, everyone else still got the brunt of Gerrard’s ire, Buck’s sexuality not exactly a point in his favour, but a lesser offence than the mere existence of everyone else. Buck was not going to be a bystander, okay – Maddie had raised him better than that. So, Buck made a point to put himself between Gerrard, and everyone else. Gerrard tries to make Hen man behind? Buck volunteers to be man behind. Gerrard tries to get Chimney to cook dinner? Buck is behind the stove faster than Gerrard can finish his sentence. Gerrard tries to make Eddie clean down an already clean truck? Buck is in there grabbing the rags and spray.

Buck fucking hates Gerrard, and he hates the way that his presence is making his team – his family – feel. Before, they would reach the end of a shift, and someone would suggest breakfast and they’d walk around to the 24-hour dinner near the station and get French toast and drink too much coffee and Buck would feel like he belonged. Now, their shift ended, and everyone went their separate ways, none of them wanting to spend any more time than strictly necessary near the station – not until Bobby was reinstated, at least.

Which was why Buck was here – sitting in his car in a Trader Joe’s parking lot, at the most loose of loose ends. Tommy was on shift, and Buck didn’t quite feel they were at that point in their relationship yet, the one where Buck could just turn up whenever and hang out. He liked where they were – Buck wasn’t complaining about the state of their burgeoning relationship – but he didn’t want to do what he always did, and be too much, too soon.

Buck just didn’t want to go home. His loft was too big, and too quiet, and after another shift of constantly fighting with Gerrard, Buck didn’t want to be left alone with his own thoughts. So – he went to the grocery store, and bought ingredients to make Eddie’s favourite breakfast (sweet and savoury pancakes, the best of both worlds) and now he was standing in the doorway of Eddie’s house, watching as Eddie – sat on the floor crying?

It had been a weird year, and it didn’t feel like it was getting any less weird.

“Eddie?” Buck’s voice was gentle as he set his groceries down on the floor, closing the front door behind him. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Eddie, in his saddest, most Freddie Mercury like state, blinked owlishly at Buck. He was squeezing a ratty looking teddy bear Buck recognised as Sir Squish, a toy Eddie had bought for Christopher before his first deployment, the blue bear very much showing it’s thirteen years of age now. “I think I might be a misogynist.”

“There is – there is just so much to unpack there,” Buck eased himself onto the floor next to Eddie. “Eddie – you’re not a misogynist. You haven’t like – grown a mustache and become a bigot.”

That, at least, made Eddie snot out a laugh. Or maybe it was a wail – Buck wasn’t entirely sure. It might have been both. “An accidental misogynist,” he mumbled, sounding incredibly miserable. “I’ve been so mean to so many women – and all because I couldn’t accept who I am, Buck.”

Buck was pretty sure he could feel his heartbeat in his ass. “What do you mean?” he couldn’t help but ask – he was sure there was a kinder, gentler way to ask, but he hadn’t expected those exact words to come out of Eddie’s mouth, and Buck had only been actively queer for like, two months, and it’s not like he was given any sort of handbook for this.

(Maybe there was a handbook – Buck should check, next time he took Jee-yun to the library.)

Sir Squish was suffering quite the fate in Eddie’s death grip, his googly-eyes looking as though they were about to pop off and roll away, Eddie’s tears free-flowing as he roughly wiped at his face with the sleeve of his sweater. “I think I’m gay, Buck.” 

tagging @thatbuddie @clusterbuck @doeeyeseddie @hattalove @mellaithwen @littlespoonevan @sibylsleaves @like-the-rest-of-la and anyone else who fancies an excuse to share some fic

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter Six

Masterlist

As Grandma Georgina had said, things have started to look up for the Bucket family. The next day Charlie helped his parents fix the roof, Grandpa Joe had spent the day out of bed, not feeling the slightest fatigue. Your uncle had found a new job, he was fixing the machines that took his job. As for you, you had resumed the course of your miserable life, you had resumed your work at Bill's shop, with the old clothes of your grandmothers and your aunt. You didn't have the courage to put on the clothes Willy bought you. It was still too painful for you. How could you be heartbroken when nothing was happening between you two? On the one hand, you could understand the fact that a family is a burden. But you couldn't forgive him for upsetting Charlie. Your cousin had started working as a shoe shiner, around the corner. A sigh escaped your lips as you finished placing the Wonka bars on the rack. You didn't want to think about that damn chocolatier, but you couldn't.

"Fucking chocolate," you muttered as you went into the back room to throw the empty box away with the others.

Another day of work had just ended. You left the shop to go to Charlie's workstation. You smile as you see the boy packing his things. The two cousins returned home. The dinner was taken in a religious silence. Ever since you visited the chocolate factory, your family barely spoke to you, especially Grandpa Joe. He was mad at you for the story of the golden ticket and for not letting him visit the chocolate factory one last time. It was stupid. Completely stupid.

"It's great that luck is finally smiling on us," Charlie said as he poured a sugary drink into the new glasses his parents had bought.

"We just needed time to bounce back," Mr. Bucket replied with a huge grin.

Time for them to bounce back. What about you? They always took your entire salary, leaving you penniless. In this chance, you were unhappy. Everyone was happy except you. Why were you the only one who had to suffer? You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard them laugh. You felt like they were laughing at you.

"Since Uncle Bucket is finally bouncing back and making a better living, I can finally keep my salary," you say, glaring at your uncle and aunt sternly.

Your request threw a chill in the cabin. Your gaze rested on your uncle and your aunt who did not know what to answer. They were serious? You shrug, fingering your food with your fork.

"It's true, now that you have a stable salary uncle. I'm going to start saving," you say, stuffing a piece of chicken in your mouth. "

We…we still have some difficulty, honey," Mrs. Bucket said with a tight smile.

"Me too. Since all my salary has been going into your pocket for several years. Besides, have you thought about paying me back everything you've taken from me since I was… uh… thirteen. Thirteen years of salary. That's a lot, isn't it?" you commented, throwing your cutlery on your plate.

"Charlie, go to your room," Mr. Bucket said as he put down his cutlery.

"Why should he leave? You have nothing to hide from him, do you?" you asked, glaring at your uncle.

"Charlie go to your room!"

"Charlie stay here!"

Charlie was staring between you and his panicked father. He didn't like the turn of events. The atmosphere was palpable. You and your uncle looked each other in the eye. You refused to look away. You had the right to keep your money and be reimbursed.

"Why do you want Charlie out?" you asked, your voice dripping with hate.

"(Y/N)! You're getting unreasonable!" growled Mrs. Bucket.

"Unreasonable?" you asked looking at your aunt. "Is it unreasonable of me to want my hard-earned money back? Is it unreasonable of me to want to save up to buy things for myself? Kind of nice clothes? Sweets? Jewelry?"

"We already give you our clothes!"

"Old, seedy and ugly."

"We buy you sweets!"

"Lie."

"And what do you want to do with jewelry?! We're not going to pay you back a single penny! You know we're in need!"

"I too am in need. And your fault!" You had just said your sentence while shouting and slamming your hands on the table, startling everyone.

You looked at your uncle and your aunt with hatred. It was always the same thing, they wanted to make you feel guilty. But now you weren't going to let it go. You weren't going to let yourself go anymore.

"It's over! I won't give you a single penny anymore!" you say between your teeth. "I'm tired of having to pay to live under this roof!"

"Do you think we wanted you? We just felt sorry. We were hesitant to put you in an orphanage. We should have done that," Mr. Bucket said. "It would have saved us this whole situation. You are a parasite (Y/N). And you will always remain a parasite."

It was like a cold shower. You couldn't help but laugh nervously. You knew it. You headed for the coat rack, grabbed your jacket and left the Bucket family residence. Tears streamed down your cheeks. You knew this day was coming, but you never thought it would happen like this, in front of Charlie. You stopped in front of Bill's shop. You entered the store and were surprised to see a young man holding the cash register.

"Good evening miss," the young man greeted smiling at you. "How can I help you?"

"Do you...do you work here?" you asked under your breath.

"Yes. Bill hired me two days ago," he said, laughing a little. "I only work nights, but Bill is going to fire this girl. He says she was no longer suitable because of the image she sent back."

"What kind of image did she send back?"

"A poor, badly-dressed girl. Maybe I shouldn't say this, but he admitted to me that he hired her out of pity, because her family is poor. But with the publicity of her finding the golden ticket in his shop, he couldn't afford to keep her."

You felt something inside you snap. The only person you trusted had just betrayed you because of your financial situation. You thanked Bill's new employee before leaving the small shop to wander around town. Where could you go? Nobody needed you. Neither your family nor your boss. What could you do? You were taken out of your thoughts by noticing that you were in front of the chocolate factory. You had come without realizing it. Since the visit, you hadn't seen Willy. All you knew about him was that the sale of his sweets had fallen sharply. You put your hand on the back of your neck, hesitating to knock on his door.

"If you change your mind Barley sugar, my door is open."

You approached the door intended for the employees. You pressed the intercom button. You had to wait a few seconds before the high-pitched voice of an Oompa Loompa was heard. You instantly regret doing that. You sputtered an apology, saying it was a mistake. You started to walk away when you heard the intercom chime low and the gate unlock. You stopped, turning towards the gate. An out Oompa Loompa, approaching you.

"You should come inside, miss (Y/L/N). This way."

A defeated sigh escaped your lips. You follow the Oompa Loompa inside the chocolate factory. The little man leads you to the huge entrance hall. He asked you to wait there, the time he went to warn Willy of your arrival. You ran your hands over your scruffy coat, leaning your back against the wall. Why did you come here? Willy was probably going to spit in your face like your aunt and uncle. Like Bill. Yes, that was probably it. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the "ding" of the elevator. You felt your heart beat faster when you saw Willy stepping out of the elevator.

"You came back," he said under his breath.

"I… I must be disturbing you," you said as you started to back away towards the door.

"No! No, you don't bother me!" he hastened to say, catching up with you. "Please don't go."

"No! It was a stupid idea. I… I shouldn't be here," you say, feeling a wave of angst wash over you.

Your heart was racing, your breathing became erratic, you were sweating profusely. You were having a panic attack. Tears were leaking from your eyes, rolling down your cheeks. Seeing you in this state, Willy put his hands on your shoulders, telling you to focus on his breathing. You watched Willy take a deep breath in through his nose and a long breath out through his mouth. You imitated him, concentrating on the chocolatier's breathing. Inhaling and exhaling like him until your panic attack subsides, leaving you drained of all energy. Willy put his arm around your shoulders, leading you to the glass elevator. The chocolatier pressed a button, activating the elevator which took you, both of you, to his apartment. His living space was spacious. Willy guided you to his huge leather sofa before going to the kitchen area. You took the opportunity to look around. Everything here screamed Willy Wonka. Everything was in shades of red and gold. There were numerous papers scattered on the coffee table as well as, what looked like, treats. Willy came back and sat next to you, handing you a steaming cup of cocoa.

"Here. This will warm you up."

You took the steaming cup in your hands. The heat warmed your frozen hands. You were watching the hot drink swirl around in the cup when you saw movement in your peripheral vision. You looked up, watching Willy gather up his papers and the sweets.

"Such a mess," he said, laughing nervously.

"You needn't be embarrassed. I'm the one unexpectedly showing up," you say bringing the cup to your lips, drinking the sugary drink.

The hot cocoa did you a world of good. You had long deprived yourself of the sweets of the great Willy Wonka. After the visit, you had stopped eating his treats. Although you couldn't afford it. You set the empty mug down on the table, nervously running your hands over your scruffy clothes. What were you supposed to say? Did you have to tell Willy you had nowhere to go? That you had lost your job because of your financial situation? You nervously rubbed your hands between them, feeling the tears start to roll down your cheeks again, your throat tightened, preventing you from speaking properly. Willy took your hand in his, squeezing it gently, telling you to take your time and breathe well. You took a deep breath, swallowing back your tears.

"I...I lost everything," you say with a tight throat.

"How so?" Willy asked

"My uncle and my aunt... we... we had a fight. I... I was tired of having to give them all my salary. My... my uncle got a new job and... I told them I didn't want to give them my salary anymore and... I left. I went to Bill's and... he replaced me with someone else."

"Why does your boss do such a thing?"

"Because I'm poor. I'm poor because of my uncle and my aunt. I have to wear old clothes and according to them I don't need new clothes or anything. I... I can't go home anymore."

Willy felt something snap inside him when he heard your words. You couldn't go home any more, just as he couldn't go back to his father after he ran away. The chocolatier put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace.

"I'm sorry, Barley sugar. No one should go through such an ordeal," he said, pressing his cheek to the top of your head as he hugged you before stepping back, cupping your face in his hands to wipe away your tears with his thumbs. "You know what we're going to do? I'm going to fix you a nice hot bath, you'll put on some fluffy pajamas and then you'll have a good night's sleep. We'll discuss all this tomorrow morning, okay?"

"You… are you okay with me staying here?" you asked surprised.

"Of course. What kind of person would I be if I left you out?" he said, taking your hand in his. "Come."

Willy led you to the bathroom. You sat on the edge of the tub, watching Willy run the hot water, putting products in the tub that seemed to cost a fortune. When your bath was ready, Willy went to his room before returning with clean clothes. He tells you to take your time before you leave the room, leaving you alone. The chocolatier closed the door behind him, allowing you to undress and step into the tub. The hot water bit into your icy skin. You were sinking into the water. The smell of the products smelled extremely good. How could things have gotten so bad? All for a damn golden ticket you refused to give to Grandpa Joe and Charlie. You shook your head, pushing his thoughts out of your mind. You didn't have to think about it anymore. You grabbed the soap, cleaning your body and your tangled hair. Once clean, you got out of the tub to dry off and put on the pajamas that Willy lent you. You buttoned up the shirt and put on the pants, which fell to the floor.

"Great," you muttered as you put the pants back on, which you had to hold on to before leaving the bathroom.

Willy turned to you, asking if everything was going well. Her voice stuck in her throat seeing you dressed in her pajamas that were too big for you. You had to roll up the sleeves and the edges of the pants so you wouldn't trip while walking as you approached him for help.

"The... the pants are too big," you say uncomfortably.

"Too big? Oh yes! Let me help you," he said, rolling up the edge to tighten the pants at the waist before stepping back. "Voilà!"

"Thank Willy."

"No problem. I… I'll show you where you're going to sleep." Willy motioned for you to follow him as he headed for his room.

The room was the size of the Bucket family home. There was a King-sinz bed in the middle of the room, solid wood furniture. Willy walked over to his chest of drawers to pull out a pillow and blanket.

"What are you doing?" you asked looking at Willy.

"I'm going to sleep on the couch."

"No, I'm going to sleep there, sleep in your bed. I don't want to feel like I'm chasing you."

"Oh! Don't worry, Barley sugar. I usually fall asleep on my desk and I still have a lot of work to do. I still have a few more hours. Sleep. We'll talk tomorrow morning."

"Alright good night."

"Good night." Willy left the room leaving you alone.

You turned off the light before slipping under the covers. The sheets were nothing like those of the Bucket family, the mattress was comfortable and it was the first time you slept alone. It was nice to have a bed for either. Without realizing it, you fell asleep, exhausted by this evening.

You were suddenly awakened from your sleep when you heard the door to the room open with force and slam against the wall. The light was on, dazzling you. You didn't have time to open your eyes when someone took the blanket off.

"Get up," Willy ordered, standing in front of the bed. "Hurry up."

"Willy? What's going on?" you asked perplexed.

"Get up, you're leaving."

"W-what?"

"Are you deaf? I told you to leave," he said grabbing your arm, forcing you out of bed. "Hurry up."

"But... you said your doors were always open to me," you say, your throat tight.

"You seriously think I'm going to harbor a poor girl in my chocolate factory," he says, dragging you to the door of his apartment.

You were trying to speak, but your voice was stuck in your throat. Willy opened the door, pushing you into a darkened room.

You looked around you lost before looking at Willy who slammed the door in your face. Your eyelids opened by themselves, your heart was beating at breakneck speed in your chest. You hurriedly turned on the bedside lamp, looking around frantically. You were still in Willy's room. He didn't kick you out. You hurriedly left the bed, as well as the room, to see the chocolatier sitting in his chair, busy reading, scribbling notes, crossing out and mumbling to himself. You moved closer to the sofa, catching Willy's attention.

"Already standing up?" he asked, pulling out a watch. "It's three o'clock in the morning."

"You… you want me to stay?" you asked lost.

"Sure. Are you okay? You're pale," he said, getting up from his couch to come closer to you. "You're shaking. What's going on?"

"You... you were kicking me out. You said you didn't want a poor girl in your chocolate shop."

"(Y/N). I'll never kick you out. I told you, didn't I? The doors of my chocolate factory will always be open to you," he said, hugging you. "You had a nightmare. Just a horrible nightmare. I'll never kick you out, I promise."

You clung to his shirt like your life depended on it. You couldn't stop your body from shaking from this nightmare. Willy put his hand on your cheek, making you raise your head. He was smiling tenderly at you as he leaned in towards you, pressing his lips to your forehead.

"You should go back to bed, Barley sugar," he said, running his hand over your cheek.

"Would you mind sleeping with me. I... I don't want to sleep alone."

You felt like a child asking her parents to join them in their bed. Except that there, you were no longer a child and you had just asked Willy Wonka if he could sleep with you. He didn't say anything, he just smiled when he placed another kiss on your forehead. He nodded, telling you he was going to change and you could go back to the bedroom until he came back. You went back to the chocolatier's room. Slipping under the sheets waiting for his return. You felt the claws of sleep trying to tear you away from reality. Your eyelids started to close on their own when you heard the door close. Your eyelids opened to see Willy dressed in his pajamas. It was quite comical to see. The chocolatier came and slipped under the sheets, turning off the light before lying down beside you.

"Sleep, (Y/N). Tomorrow will be another day."

You nodded slightly, falling asleep again. Willy sighed, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders before falling asleep too.

(o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o)

You awoke from your sleepless sleep feeling your cheek pressed against something firm and warm. When you opened your eyes, your gaze saw Willy's face. The chocolatier was asleep, his arm wrapped around your waist. In your sleep, you had moved closer to him and vice versa. You tried to gently pull your arm away from your waist to get off the bed, but Willy tightened his grip, pulling you closer to him as he nuzzled your hair.

"Mmh... too soon...," Willy muttered still sleepy. "Sleep..."

"B-but..."

You didn't have time to talk until the alarm clock started ringing. Willy sighed loudly. He had to let go of you to cut off this instrument of torture. You didn't have time to talk until the alarm clock started ringing. But you, you didn't know what you were going to be able to do to occupy yourself and forget what happened last night. Just thinking about it made you feel bad. What were you going to do? You had to hurry to find a new job and a new place to live. You left the room going to sit on the couch while Willy shuffled into the kitchen.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked, opening the door of his fridge.

"I…I don't know. I don't usually eat in the morning," you say, getting up from the sofa and moving closer to the counter.

"In that case, let me prepare something for you," he said, taking some ingredients.

You watched Willy begin to scramble eggs with sausage and toast. You were surprised to find that he knew how to do something other than sweets. Once breakfast was ready, he placed a well-stocked plate in front of you before taking his own plate to begin eating.

"That's really good," you say as you finish your plate. "It's quite surprising."

"Really? You thought I was a bad cook?" Willy chuckled.

"It's just that… since you're so obsessed with sweets, I couldn't see you eating anything other than chocolate."

"I can't… really contradict you," he said, pushing his empty plate aside. "Well. Now. We're going to have to discuss what's going to happen."

You wanted to disappear six feet underground. You didn't want to talk about the Bucket family and Bill. You pushed your plate away, running your hands over your face.

"You don't have to worry. I'll find a job soon..."

"(Y/N)."

"I won't be dragging your feet for very long."

"(Y/N). I don't want you to leave."

To say you were surprised was an understatement. You didn't expect him to say such a thing to you. If his goal was to leave you speechless, he had succeeded. You didn't know what to answer. You mumbled a few words before shutting up and massaging your temples.

"Wi-Willy... why do you want me to stay? I'm just a burden to people. Nobody needs a poor girl. I'm just going to drive down your chocolate stock. People aren't going to let this go!"

Willy nodded slightly when he heard your explanations. The chocolatier sighed, running his hand through his tangled hair.

"You're right. People wouldn't take kindly to me harboring a poor girl, like you say," he said with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders.

"You see."

"But I've never been like the others, Barley sugar. I would have thought you had understood that during the visit," he said, moving around the counter to come closer to you. "I'm not like other people. I don't care that you're a poor girl. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't define who you are."

"Are you telling me you know me?"

"Partly. I know you hate your social status, but you're nice," he said, tucking a flyaway hair behind your ear. "You have your heart on your sleeve. Despite what happened with your uncle and aunt, you were helping them. I know that despite everything, you love Charlie with all your heart. You have a good person (Y/N). You inherit my happiness. Let me give you all this."

You felt like your heart was going to explode and you were sure that your cheeks were as red as the wrappers of his famous chocolate. You swallowed hard, unable to help but laugh nervously.

"I feel like I'm hearing a statement," you say, fiddling with your fingers nervously.

"What if there was one?"

Alright, there you were pretty sure your face had turned crimson. You mumbled incomprehensible words, trying to create some sort of sentence. Your confusion greatly amused the chocolatier. Willy ran his fingers over your cheek, pressing his lips to your forehead before stepping back to get ready. You let out your breath when you heard the bathroom door close. Did Willy really just tell you that he wanted you to stay with him because he wanted to make you happy? Was he telling the truth or was he making fun of you?

(o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o)

Two weeks passed.

Two weeks you lived in the chocolate factory and watched TV. Even though Willy had told you he wanted to make you happy, you were still so unhappy. Willy had tried to entertain you and occupy your mind as best he could. He had taken the time to show you around the rest of his chocolate factory, he had shown you how he made his famous chocolate bars, but you were still concerned about the Bucket family and what they had done to you.

Every night, you had nightmares of Willy throwing you out, you saw your uncle and your aunt throwing you out again, Bill who made fun of everything or Mrs Beauregarde insulting you by clinging to Willy. Tonight was no exception to this rule. You woke up with a start and terrified, forcing Willy to abandon his work to come and console you and reassure you. You couldn't help wondering how long he was going to put up with you. You prevented him from working and you knew that the purchase of his sweets fell even more. You were definitely going to ruin it.

"I can't stay here anymore," you say between sobs.

"Barley sugar, you just had a bad dream. I would never kick you out, you know that," he said, cupping your face in his hands.

"I'm not talking about that," you say stepping back. "It's my fault that your sweets have dropped even more! I'm just a dead weight preventing you from working properly! I...I don't..."

"(Y/N). (Y/N) look at me."

You shook your head, clutching the blanket in your hands. You had had enough of this whole situation. Of your discomfort. You felt like the last of the fools. You just wanted to be quiet and not feel like a burden on others anymore. Willy places his fingers under your chin, forcing you to raise your head and stare at him. The chocolatier pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"It's not your fault that my treats are selling less. I'm solely to blame for that," he said, sighing and stepping back. "I'm completely lost. I hesitate about everything, I don't know what taste to give them, I change my mind every two minutes. Since the visit, nothing works as I would like and as..."

Willy fell silent, you saw a spark run through his eyes. A huge smile appeared on his lips. The chocolatier had come to the conclusion that the candies looked like him and since he was bad, his candies were bad because of it. You wiped away your tears, looking puzzled at Willy as he smiled at you.

"We're going to have to go see Charlie."

What?

[alexxncl]

who fell first, who fell harder (dateables + thirteen)

no luke bc he's a baby

(yes i have favorites, thirteen is one of them)

OG AND NB SPOILERS

masterlist | more drabbles/hcs | brothers edition

dia

dia did both, fight me

when he met solomon, it was purely childlike wonder

mc on the other hand, there was something about them that piqued his interest

despite being so much less powerful than him, they treated him as if they were equals, poking fun at his naivety, joking with him, pushing him to open up when they knew something was wrong

he always had a profound interest in humanity, but was forbidden to act on it due to his father's overprotectiveness (fuck the demon king fr /hj)

they always encouraged his curious spirit, to barbatos' displeasure, but sometimes they managed to convince barbie to join them on whatever adventure dia had planned under the guise of needing protection

they were overhwelmingly open with him, gravitating towards his castle when they had a bad day, and he later found himself doing the same when barbatos and luci weren't around

they read him better than barb and luci combined on most days

he always thought about them on his business and personal excursions, making sure to pick up souvenirs that reminded him of them just so see their eyes light up when he gifted them to them

they made him feel like his dreams were worthwhile, like he'd been able to live up to both his father's and an entire kingdom's expectations of him

how could a simple human make him feel like the weight of the world was off if his shoulders with something as small as a smile?

mc begun to realize that no matter how busy he was, he'd always find a way to make time for them

whether it was in his room, on a phone call, over text, he'd always check in on them to see how they were doing

they always noticed how much he struggled with his position, wanting the best for everyone even if it meant digging himself into a hole

they'd always ask him when he'd get back from his trips, waiting in his room to surprise him with sweets or tea and a movie

the sleepovers happened more often after the lesson 16 incident, he didn't want them staying at the HOL even under the brothers' protection, he was less paranoid if they were within arm's reach

one night, he got back later than expected and found mc curled up in his bed in their nightclothes, and he realized how turly in love with him he was

when both of them woke up the next morning, mc was beyond apologetic for falling asleep and taking up too much space and -

he kissed them and confessed right after

this was a month or so before they left the devildom

barb

mc fell first, barb fell harder

mc didn't like him all that much at first, he was always so secretive and elusive to every question they asked him

why couldn't he just be normal?

they spent as much time as they could around him, trying to catch him at his weakest point so they could pry answers out of him

spending so much time around someone will force you to pick up on the smallest details

how even in the worst situations, he puts on a smile

how his eye bags continued to get worse and worse weeks into the semester

how after dia's trips he'd be more likely to doze off in class

how he'd hide his physical and mental pain from everyone, so well that even luci and dia rarely picked up on it

regardless of his bad days, mc still pestered him with questions about his powers, about how he met solomon, about why they of all people were chosen for the program, all while asking questions about what he liked and disliked, what his favorite color was

they started bringing snacks and energy drinks to classes they shared with him

whenever they went shopping, they bought him gifts related to what he'd tell them

they slowly started opening up about why they were so curious, feeling like they didn't belong or weren't good enough to succeed at the school

then, he caught a glimpse of their death

he'd grown close to the human, the thought of losing them was almost unbearable

their bright smile, the way they supported the young master, their intelligence, hell, even their endless questions about him and his history

he vowed never to interfere with the timeline for personal gain, but mc was too important for him to lose

after sending them back, he'd talked to his past self about why they were so important, why a human with a life as small and insignificant as theirs had ended up meaning to much to him in such a short amount of time

he'd make sure nothing like this would ever happen to them again, insisting on escorting both dia and mc to school every day

diavolo, despite barbatos' best attempts at hiding it, noticed how much he'd grown to care for the human and insisted that if barbatos didn't tell them how he felt, he'd do it himself

the confession happened a few days before mc left the devildom, they were sitting in his room with the newest tea from the human realm when he told him how he felt

"i know, i was just waiting for you to make a move"

they're still as insufferable as the day they fell to the devildom, but he loved them nonetheless

solomon

solomon fell first, mc fell harder

there's a reason he took them on as his apprentice

he saw how close they were with the brothers, how easily they made pacts with them despite knowing them for not even half as long

they'd all felt mc's aura, it almost matched his own

he'd never met someone as optimistic about such a multidimensional situation, being thrust into a world where you were nothing but food to those around you

solomon was there when their happy-go-lucky act about the devildom started to show its cracks

he saw the homesick look in their eyes every time they walked through the devildom streets, strolling through the halls, walking to their room in the HOL

he hated how much it reminded him of himself, he wanted to be there for them

he was the only other human in the devildom after all, they had to be close

he'd conjure up cityscapes, sneak up to the human realm late at night to bring them gifts from their hometown, ask them their favorite recipes (for some reason, he always had to pry those answers out of them)

whenever mc missed home, they'd walk over to purgatory hall and knock on his door, sometimes tearfully wishing they could go home, even with no family to greet them

they'd tried to help him cook, but even their guidance could barely salvage whatever mess he ended up creating in the kitchen

they begged him to teach them spells, to take them under his wing, and even to learn how to become immortal after growing more accustomed to the devildom since the thought of leaving their family behind hurt too much to think about

they didn't want to leave him behind

they'd do anything in their power to stay with him as long as possible, even if it meant pestering him and barbatos about his immortality endlessly

solomon's confession was far from planned, they were back in the human realm having a picnic in the park, reminiscing on all the adventures they had in the devildom

mc talked about how scared they were at the thought of death, and how close they were to experiencing it after the lesson 16 incident

they never expected him to fall for someone with a life so short in comparison to his, someone who could be nothing but a memory if an enemy's cards were played right

the way he held their hand and told them he loved them, it would've been impossible not to feel the same

simeon

simeon did both

contrary to (somewhat) popular belief, the religious guilt he felt due to his status wasn't bad at all

he'd already been demoted from seraph to archangel

what would a little admiration for a human do?

even after the admiration turned to love, turned to desire, turned to lust, he still couldn't bring himself to care about the possibility of being cast out due to his emotions

hell, he would've been cast out sooner if he wasn't so scared to fall before the celestial war

mc is everything he dreamed of having, and then some

their eyes, their smile, the way they carried themself with so much integrity and the way their heart constantly overflowed with love for all of those around them

he wondered how much of that love was for him, how many other emotions they felt towards him

they were always so patient with him, they took such good care of luke, they made lucifer and his brothers happier than they'd been in centuries, happier than they ever were in the celestial realm

could he be happy, too? was loving them all it took for him to find true happiness?

mc took a liking to the angel from the moment they'd met him

he was a far cry from whatever image of an angel they'd had in their head, especially considering their religious upbringing

prim and proper of course, buy willing to indulge in the sins the brothers were so well known for, whether it be for his own personal gain, for luke, or, surprisingly, for them

he was always prideful when mc came to him for help or advice

he was greedy for their time and envious of those who spent too much with them, never having his fill

the silent wrath held towards belphegor after he mercilessly tried to take mc away from their family, from him

how he'd spend hours in bed hoping to dream of them

how when they kissed for the first time, it left them breathless and weak in the knees at the thought of him seeing them in that light

to them, he was the embodiment of everything they'd ever wanted

to him, they were his refuge, a home he'd gladly return to after his fall from grace

they taught him everything he needed to know about humanity, about being

thirteeen

mc did both

they'd always had a thing for intelligence

walking through the reaper's cave made them want to meet her, despite solomon advising against it

when they finally did meet her, the first thing they noticed about her was how pretty her eyes were

ofc they tried flirting, but none of their attempts worked

regardless of how she felt about them, they always wanted to learn more about her

they asked how old she was, how different the other world was from the devildom, if she could show them around

they hoped they weren't annoying her

she was harder to read than the rest of the brothers, but they'd broken down tsundere acts before so it wasn't anything new

they went out of their way to cross paths with her whenever they walked to class, they sat next to her at lunch to ask her how her day was

they asked about her traps and loved the way her whole demeanor changed when she got passionate about her ideas and creations

they started noticing small details, like how she clicked her pencil in time with the clock when class was almost over

how she had a soft side for luke despite scaring the shit out of him during their first meeting

how she was always so careful around mc, like they'd break if she pushed them too hard

how whenever she was overwhelmed, she'd play with the chains on her clothes because having something cool in her hands calmed her down

how despite claiming to hate solomon's guts, she was just frustrated that she couldn't get her hands on his soul

how pretty her lips looked when she smiled

she started opening up to mc as the semester went on, talking about her history with all three realms

how she was there when lilith died

how she was there when solomon was supposed to die

how she was there when mc's candle burnt out

how distraught she was when mc chose to pour some of their candle into beel's, wondering why someone with a life as fragile as theirs would sacrifice something so precious

she wanted mc to care for her the way they cared for the brothers, for the angels, for solomon

she started answering more and more of mc's questions

she started letting mc walk her home, and eventually showed them the ins and outs of the cave

the fountain of knowledge became their safe haven, free from the eyes of those who would give thirteen sideways glances when she walked hand-in-hand with the best friend of the seven rulers of hell

thirteen was talking about how she was tasked with carrying solomon's soul to the otherworld once he died, how she felt like a failure for not being able to do so, when she noticed mc with a sad smile look on their face

they told her nothing in the world would've made her anything but perfect in their eyes, even if she had no choice but to let their candle burn out

she asked mc what else was up, the sad smile being replaced with a more content expression

"nothing, just thinking about how much i love you"

she wanted to bolt right then and there

why did that make her feel funny?

love? of all the words they could've said, they loved her?

falling in love with death, the irony of it all, thirteen would give anything to keep that smile on mc's face

(even if it meant sneakily pouring bits of solomon's candle onto mc's behind her family's back)

[facioleeknow]

Frat boy 1 • Choi Seungcheol

He fell first and hard. She thinks he hates her but he's actually emotionally constipated.

wc: 718 genre: humor(?), frat boy au

tw: hermit reader, bisexual and shameless Vernon, intimidating Seungcheol, not proofread, frat boys seventeen, nudity

an: hey guys this is the prologue of the series, let me know if you like it and if I should continue it

The entrance of the frat house looked menacing. SVT, short for Sigma Vau Theta, was the biggest frat in your university, counting a whopping twelve members, including your best friend, and a new pledge. Despite being friends for years you had never entered the house but Vernon, your friend, explained to you in detail where his room was “in case you needed a place to crash”.

A big and dramatic sigh escaped your lips, you didn't like being in a room with a couple of men let alone in a house with thirteen, but you had to bite the bullet for the sake of your best friend. Technically Vernon hadn't exactly invited you but he had always said that his door was open at all hours for you and he had been complaining non stop that morning about how donuts were the perfect hangover cure. You obviously took pity on him, got out of your dorm room (if something as big as a broom closet could be called a room) and bought him donuts and coffee.

So now you were stepping into a house that not only was full of men but also smelled like it was full of men.

I hate my life so much, you thought as you scanned your surroundings. 

The hall was empty, in fact the whole house seemed eerily quiet but you knew that a night of heavy drinking was basically the equivalent of having a near death experience so you weren't surprised.

You found the stairs easily and walked up with fast and silent steps. Nobody passed by you and nobody stopped you from roaming around the house, they were probably all sleeping.

“End of the hall, on the right, his name is on the door,” you whispered to yourself.

The hall looked neverending and for a second you thought you teleported in the shining’s hotel, the creepy one with the red carpet. When the name “VERNON” on a plain white door came into your line of vision you sighed, grateful. Without a second thought (and without knocking), you opened the door. An horrendous sight welcomed, your best friend was almost getting it on with a guy and they were both butt naked. 

“Vernon what the fuck!” you yelled. The two quickly got off of each other and pulled the sheets up to cover the family jewels.

“Don't be so dramatic, you've seen me naked,” nonchalantly replied Vernon while collapsing back into his pillow.

“Yes and that was a mistake that I didn't want to repeat,” you quipped back at him.

“Hi, I'm Alex,” the guy next to Vernon introduced himself and extended his hand to you, which you eyed suspiciously. Better not to shake that, you never know what it had touched.

“Hi,” you smiled back at him, “I brought you donuts.” The sweet treats were gently placed on his desk even if you wanted to throw them at him for making you witness that scene.

“I knew we were friends for a reason,” Vernon happily got out of bed, still naked, and walked to the door next to you. 

Ew.

“Right, I'm going to go, I need to bleach my eyeballs,” you scoffed.

“Bye drama queen.”

Getting out of the house was different than getting in, mostly because now you didn't care if you made noise, you just wanted to go back to your room and be alone. At the end of the stare your mood was changing, you felt somewhat proud of yourself. You had completed your mission without any major incident (seeing Vernon's dick was considered a minor incident), or so you thought. Because at the end of the stairs right when you were about to zoom across the hall to get the hell out of there, a hand grabbed your arm. 

“What are you doing here?” A guy with dyed blonde hair and very muscular arms was looking into your eyes with an intimidating stare.

“I’m Vernon's friend,” you were able to mutter out.

“I didn't hear you knock.”

“I didn't.”

If looks could kill you would've died a gruesome death.

“You should knock when you enter other people's houses,” he warned you. He slowly loosened the grip on your forearm and then let go of your arm completely. Like he appeared he disappeared, quickly.

Damn you hated frats.