#never let anyone try again because even if they say they want to they’re either lying or will quit the second they realize everything

[katekathry]

hiii guys, I'm baaackk

Okay, first of all, I'm nervous as hell for posting this lol so please be kind. It's the first time I'm posting a fanfic, so it won't be perfect, because my native language is not English, so there are probably some mistakes. This first chapter is a little short, but eventually I will increase it.

I want to thank @claramelooo very VERY VERY much for reading and liking it, if it weren't for her and her incentives this would never leave the drafts jsjsjsjs, a huge thank you also to @wandasgirl69 for being the sweetest person and also having encouraged me 🫶🏻

Okayy, I think that's it :P please tell me your thoughts and if you liked it :)

I Love You, I'm Sorry

Chapter 1: Do I know you?

Alright, just a few adjustments here and there, a bit more time passing than usual, and I finally make it into the store. It’s almost evening, so the place is pretty much empty. I step inside with a soft sigh, hands practically glued to my pockets, and head straight for the meat section.

Everything seems relatively calm — I haven’t bumped into anyone since I got here. But then, that strange feeling hits me again. I grip the shelf in front of me tightly as I hear children laughing and a voice, way too sweet, calling for a little girl. I know it’s a girl — there’s no mistaking the yellow dress she’s wearing. I can’t quite catch the name, but it sounds oddly like Emma. I always brush it off, though. If it really is Emma, I’d have to start taking all this way more seriously.

As quickly as it came, the feeling fades. I can breathe again. I lean more against the shelf and let out a shaky breath — but there’s no time to dwell on it, because once again, I feel someone next to me. And she’s reaching out— NO.

I’ve got less than a second to take a step back and tell this poor woman I’m perfectly fine. But I freeze the moment I see her eyes. That same strange feeling — that vision — hits me like a runaway train. Her eyes… they’re exactly the same as the little girl I’ve been seeing every day for the past three weeks. The same slightly golden rims, the same melted chocolate color, the same gaze.

But it’s weird — I’ve never actually seen the girl’s eyes before now.

I snap out of it when the woman gives me a light shake. It yanks me back to the present — and that terrifies me. It’s never happened like this before.

“Are you okay, dear?” I hear her ask, her brows arched in concern.

I nod, though my head’s still spinning.

“Yeah, it’s just… a bit of a headache.” I try to smile at her, but I know it comes out more like a grimace. And how do I know? The look of exasperation on her face is almost touching.

“I live just a block away. Let’s walk. I’ve got tea that’ll fix a headache in five minutes,” she says — and just like that, she turns and leaves me standing there.

She just walks off.

But after five steps, she glances back, one brow raised, like she’s saying, “You coming or what?”

So I follow her. Like a lost puppy.

I don’t even know how we got out of the store, let alone into her house. But when I come to, I’m sitting in an armchair with a cup of tea in my hands and a shawl that smells like cinnamon and incense draped over my shoulders.

I blink, trying to ground myself, and look at the woman — she’s staring at me like I’m a complete mystery. Which, to be fair, I probably am. And she definitely isn’t far off either.

“Do you always invite random women into your house like this? I could’ve been a psychopath.”

It’s probably the dumbest thing I could say in a stranger’s home — especially because she…

“And what if I’m the psychopath, hmm? Do you always accept tea from strange women that easily?”

I shoot her a glare, narrowing my eyes.

“I would’ve sensed that when you touched me.”

“Your magic’s as unpredictable as you are, sweetheart. We both know that.”

Clock.

The first sign.

My blood runs cold instantly. I’m frozen, just staring at the woman in front of me.

“This is our twentieth meeting, stellina . You’ll remember eventually. This one… and all the others,” she says, with a strange sadness in her expression.

I open my mouth to ask what she’s talking about — but then the second hand ticks and the sound feels deafening in my skull. I must’ve touched too many people today.

“What are you talking about?”

She looks at me with a soft, almost mournful smile and shifts in her seat, fiddling with her ring finger — and only then do I notice she’s wearing a wedding ring.

It happens again. But this time it’s not a vision — it’s real. A little girl runs into the room, shouting happily. She’s smiling, so bright and calm. I stare at her in shock.

It’s her — the same girl I’ve been seeing in my visions for the past three weeks. How…?

“You’re back, Mom!”

Mom.

“Emma, no—”

The woman starts talking to the girl — Emma — but I can’t focus. Everything around me starts to fall apart, disintegrating like it always does. Every… day? Month? Week?

But through the cracks I see her — Emma, my daughter — playing with a little boy, and a woman calling them.

The same woman from the visions.

The same woman sitting in front of me now.

The mother of my daughter.

My wife.

Lilia Calderu.

… was this really the correct order of events?

[lesbiansanemi]

It just sucks it just really fucking does and I never want to admit this because it’s “wrong” to want to “be normal” because these things shouldn’t be considered abnormal but fuck. Fuck man. I wish I was allo I wish I was cis I wish I was neurotypical I wish I was fucking normal and didn’t have all these little fucking things that clump up into a giant mound of ridiculous weight that is just too much for another person to deal with

[emmyrosee]

You went to bed before Kiyoomi.

You never do that. Ever since you’ve moved in with him, your nights end with a massive pile of cuddling limbs and sweet words of sticky nothings that have you cocooned and ready for a peaceful night.

But tonight, he snapped at you. Something about being too “irate” over “something small.”

He missed dinner. And normally, that wouldn’t be a massive issue for you. But he was with asshole of a PR member who’s been trying to get with him for months, calling themselves his “work babe.” Who were you to think nothing funny wasn’t going down?

It's not a lack of trust from Kiyoomi that has you choked up. It's a lack of trust with them.

You know more than anyone when kindness turns to love, it's the same thing that happened between you both, and it kills you to think they could preform the same spell and potentially take your man from you.

You tell yourself that if they can take him, they can have him.

But the idea hurts none the less.

It hurts enough where you're curled up on your side of the bed, far from Kiyoomi's, where his smell lingers and the coldness on your body isn't offset by his warmth like it usually is. You whimper and bury your face in the meat of your pillow when you hear the front door open, and a soft call of your name follows. You didn't even know he left, to be frank, but you don't say anything as he stalks into the bedroom with another call of your name.

"Are you awake?"

"Am now," you murmur.

"Can we please talk about things?" He sounds desperate, like he knows this is killing you, weighing you down like a sac of bricks and keeping you from him.

"You talk," you say, nodding into your pillow. "I have nothing to say."

"Okay. I understand."

A muscular arm reaches over your frame to reach for your hand, and when you don't put up a fight to keep his hand away, he sighs shakily.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, linking his pinkie finger with yours. You screw your eyes shut and sniffle, and you hear him swallow thickly. “I was just so upset to know that you were right to worry-“

“What?”

“Wait- No!” He says quickly, panic in his voice. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant.” He’s never been good with his words. You let him continue, your heart sinking into your stomach all the same. He sighs shakily, “I meant that you were right about me being here. I should’ve been. We haven’t had dinner together in weeks, and I just… I got so caught up in new sponsorships and gigs that I wanted more, and I thought they had more to give.”

“They want you, Kiyoomi,” you mumble. “I see it. It’s the same way I bugged you when we first started dating, just to show how much I liked you. They’re doing that.”

“I know,” he sighs. Then, he pauses, squeezing your pinky, “I went to talk to them. Told them if they couldn't keep it professional and cut the shit, they can search for other clients. Because I don't want them making either of us uncomfortable anymore. And even if they did want me, I don't care.” He crawls over to you and bends slightly to have his head dangling in front of you, curls flipping upside down at the action. “Because I want you.”

You snort at the sight.

“So can we please cuddle, and you grab my teeth or sniff me or whatever feral thing you usually do?” He asks, leaning forward to kiss you on the nose. “Miss your stupid affections.”

“I miss giving them to you,” you say, moving a finger up slowly to try and pick his nose, just to make him squirm, a sign of a truce. He grunts and whips his head back, letting your laughter fill the room, rather than your tears. When you feel him sit back on his side of the bed, you take your time in flipping over, finally meeting his dark eyes again, filled with hope and adoration that has you falling in love with him all over again.

"You are irresistible," you say, reaching for his hand again.

"Don't care. I don't want anyone looking at me if it means you and I never fight again."

You laugh and gently kiss his hand, flicking your gaze up at him, "we'll go look at paper bags for you to wear this weekend."

He removes his hand from yours to gently cup your cheek, thumb stroking over the swells lovingly.

"It's a date."

[revelboo]

Are you okay writing for tfp Knockout or Breakdown? Maybe they are either another (human) racer or heck even someone who works at the car wash who gives some of the best cars waxes, Knockout befriended. That or maybe they’re a mech experiment (mostly) human survivor that helped Breakdown escape MECH. Or literally whatever you see happening these where just some of my suggestions. The floor is yours if you’re okay writing for them? Thanks either way 😄

My Favorite Accident

Knockout x reader-race

18+ 🌶️

• Huh. Of all the ways you might have imagined you’d die, death by a furious, alien pimp car wouldn’t have made the top ten. Or hundred. Fingers going white knuckled on the helmet in your hands, you feel curiously numb. Drag racing was dangerous and sooner or later, you’d push your luck past the point of no return. But this?

• When you’d managed to pass that stupidly gorgeous, red sports car for the third night in a row, you’d wanted to laugh your head off. Maybe dance a victory jig because your old, rusty Trans Am looked like an ad for tetanus and it’d still beaten all those other pretty, expensive cars. So yeah, when the candy apple red car had followed you and stayed right on your bumper after the race, you’d sucked it up and pulled over. Letting the guy follow you to your house wasn’t happening. If you were going to get screamed at, it was going to be on your terms.

• You grab your switchblade out of the center console and slide it into your back pocket in case wealthy sports car guy decided he could try and bully you out of your winnings. Hip cocked and arms folded across your chest, you wait for the guy to get out and yell- probably accuse you of cheating.

• That sound was something you’d never forget, almost a musical thing as metal shifted and rearranged. And grew to tower over you in the form of a sleek robot.

• An infuriated robot as it takes a thunderous step your way and your helmet hits the asphalt. More than anything, you want to run. The problem is your body isn’t on board. You can’t move at all as it crouches down. “Mind telling me how you beat me in that scrap heap?”

• Cold fury sparking through him, Knockout glares down at the human staring up at him. “Well?” He demands. “You cheated didn’t you?” Because there’s no way a human beat him in that… abomination. It’s not even a car, more a mobile scrap heap. And that just makes it so much worse.

• Huh. Indignation wins out over common sense. “I’m a better driver,” you say. Those strange black and red eyes narrow and you have the thought that you can duck, grab the helmet and sling it at the robot. Maybe buy yourself a whole thirty seconds before it stomps you to death.

• What you don’t expect is for it to throw up an arm in all too human exasperation. “Hardly. I’ve been driving long before you were even alive,” it says, walking past you to stalk around your car. “Do you have any idea how mortifying it is to lose to… this? What it does to my reputation?”

• You can breathe now that it’s not glaring down at you, because it’s popping the hood on your car and shaking its head in disgust. “That’s gotta hurt, huh?” You snark, wincing as it glowers at you over its shoulder with murderous intent.

• “We’re going again. Now.” Because he can’t stand it. And it’s been a long time since anyone’s given him a real challenge. A thrill of electric anticipation makes him smile when your uneasy expression smooths into a cocky sureness, because he knows you won’t just let him win- you’ll fight him tooth and nail for it. A kindred spirit.

Next

[fastandcarlos]

Whole World On Your Shoulders : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: with the pressures of his upcoming move weighing down on him, lewis counts on you to reassure him that he's doing the right thing

Your eyes followed Lewis carefully as he walked through your home, watching him drop his bag with a thud, brushing his hands over his face. You placed your phone down, studying him closely as you noticed the frustration that was evident in his expression. 

“Everything alright?” You asked, offering Lewis a soft smile, only for that to drop when he didn’t return it. Instead, he scuffed his feet on the ground, throwing himself down beside you. 

“I can’t win,” Lewis sighed, feeling your arms quickly wrap around his frame, pulling him into your chest. “I’m doing well with Mercedes but people keep making me feel guilty about leaving. And now I’m winning again, Ferrari are telling me about all these expectations they have for me.” 

“I'm sorry," you whispered, pressing a kiss against Lewis' head as he cuddled himself into your side, desperate for a touch of comfort from your hold. 

Your head rested on top of his, entangling your legs in with his own. “I’ve got so much pressure on my shoulders right now, there’s so many people who I need to try and impress, what if I mess up and just end up disappointing everyone?” 

“That’s not going to happen Lew, you’ve not disappointed anyone in nearly twenty years of racing.” 

It broke your heart seeing how frail Lewis was as he held you, struggling to maintain his composure. For quite some there had been a little bit of pressure, it was only natural for someone who was about to sign with Ferrari, but as contract start came closer, the pressure was only mounting more. 

“What am I supposed to do baby?” Lewis nervously asked you, tilting his head back slightly to try and look up at you. 

His voice sounded as if it was on the verge of desperate, a tone from Lewis that you hadn’t heard for quite some time. He liked to be composed and not let you in whenever he was struggling, but today it seemed as if he had decided that he was going to do the complete opposite. 

“No matter what I do I’m upsetting someone, it’s bitter for Mercedes but a joy for Ferrari that I’m doing well right now,” Lewis continued to huff, “they keep telling me they’re happy for me, but I know they don’t mean it, they don’t want me to go.” 

Your hand brushed gently over the top of his head, “you don’t need to worry about all of them, you need to focus on doing what’s best for you, regardless of who you upset.” 

Lewis hummed in agreement with what you had to say, he’d spent so long working as part of a team, but now his new decision was a selfish one. His career didn’t have much longer left and he wanted to make the choices that would be best for him, not for anyone else. 

The biggest cheerleader for him when making that decision was absolutely you. You’d encouraged him immensely to make the call that was best for him. Whether it was Mercedes or Ferrari, you were going to support him with it regardless. 

“Thank you,” Lewis whispered, “for always being here for me to help me out.” 

You never wanted to be thanked by Lewis, you never expected it from him either. All you did was care, and if you were needed to pick him back up and give him a boost, then you were going to do that without even having to think about it. 

“You know, people would dream about being you,” you told him. 

“They'd be stupid too," Lewis scoffed, "I wouldn’t want anyone to have to work under the pressure that I'm working under. The only reason I manage it most of the time is because I have you here.” 

“I’m nothing to do with this,” you laughed, only for Lewis’ head to shake as you spoke. 

He wished you saw more of the impact you had on him and how helpful all of the little things that you did were for him. “Just you being here means the world love, the feeling of knowing I’m not alone makes such a difference,” he admitted. 

You could feel in Lewis’ hold just how much he wanted, or needed, to have you there. He was terrified of you letting go, the one person who he could always count on leaving him. You didn’t even need to do or say anything, just being there was more than enough for him. 

“I’m incredibly proud of you, I don’t tell you that enough,” you mused. 

Your words were like music to Lewis’ ears, the perfect pick up that he needed. At times it felt like no one was proud of him now, they were disappointed, confused, some even angry, but they didn’t understand Lewis like you did, they didn’t understand why the decision needed to be made. 

“Will you be there at the last few races?” Lewis tentatively asked, taking a tight hold of your hand. “It’s going to be tough, and I’d really love for you to be there, for me.” 

Without even thinking, your head nodded in response to his question. If he was honest, he was terrified of leaving Mercedes, leaving everything that had become so comfortable over the past decade, it was a goodbye that was going to be far from easy. 

“I don’t say it enough, but I really am thankful for all that you do,” Lewis told you once again, “not many people could put up with someone like me.” 

It had its difficulties dating Lewis, you couldn’t deny it, but that was far outweighed by all the positives. You didn’t want the easy life, you enjoyed the challenges, the highs and the lows, all the boring bits and the exciting bits that left you thrilled. 

“I’m going to be right here to ease that weight you’re carrying on your shoulders,” you insisted, “you don’t ever have to worry about carrying it alone.” 

“I know,” Lewis smiled, “that’s what makes us such a good team.” 

You hummed in agreement with Lewis, you two clicked perfectly together, you had such a clear understanding of one another and knew exactly how to be there for the other. 

“I don’t quite know how the next season is going to pan out, I can’t promise that next year will be easy, but I’m still going to be there and putting you first,” Lewis assured you, kissing against the top of your shoulder. “It’s going to be a rollercoaster, but that’s how we like it.” 

“You always promised me life wouldn’t be easy.” 

Relief hit you as a chuckle came from Lewis, “I’ve no doubt it’s going to be amazing, because we’ll be right there together.” 

Ferrari was going to be new to everyone, but you had every confidence that it would work out, if anyone knew how to overcome a challenge, it was definitely Lewis. 

“Try not to worry about everything that’s coming our way,” you whispered, “for once, we’re going to be selfish for a while.” 

Lewis nodded in agreement, “it’s about time that we put ourselves first for a little while, don’t you think?” 

“I couldn’t agree more, we’ve got to be our number ones for once.” 

“Screw what anyone else thinks anyway.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

What Attracts Them [1]

Alastor

Vulnerability. If there is any weakness or fault in your self-concept, Alastor will pick up on it and try to exploit it to garner a connection with you. He’s not particularly fond of approaching someone without an ulterior motive in mind or solely because he finds you mildly interesting -among other sinners, that is. He needs leverage and uses whatever he can pry or observe about you to his advantage. Need protection? He’ll offer to guard you. Need financial support. He’ll hand over any amount you desire. As long as you either sell your soul or initiate loyalty to him, Alastor will proudly proclaim you his (property).

Alastor is wildly addicted to dual-sided sinners. The pure joy he gets from seeing you go from being sweet, shy, and agreeable to bloodthirsty, witty, and downright stubborn gets him going. You don’t often get that way unless it’s to put someone in their place or to show how protective you are of him -even if he’s far more powerful than you in every way. Still, when you do, his grin stretches wider than usual, and he’ll constantly try to encourage your violent behavior out into the open after the fact.

He’s got a massive thing for motherly types. Partly because he is a momma’s boy but mostly because he is very prone to being taken care of, as much as he’ll deny needing anyone’s help. What overlord would willingly say they like having their ears petted, antlers touched, or hair messed with by the one they love? None. And he won't be the first. You can always do the simplest things too: helping Charlie around the hotel, giving angel advice (even if he doesn’t use it), or running around with Nifty trying to help her catch bugs strikes a nerve in the stag he can't ignore. Seeing you tend to others makes him incredibly hot-blooded. It gives him more motive and excuses to breed you later on.

Dancing. He loves to trot around his room late at night with you. Soft jazz or swing music playing from him keeps a smile on your face as he leads you through various steps, effortlessly twirling you around the room and addicted to hearing you giggle softly anytime he sweeps you off your feet. He was a phenomenal dancer while alive, and that fact hasn’t changed in death. You will either have to learn from him or already be light on your feet when Alastor decides to ask you for a dance.

Alastor doesn’t mind having a chaotic partner but values a higher level of ‘obedience’ from them. If you aren’t the type to make a deal with the stag and he can’t convince you to do so, he’ll settle for an almost toxic form of companionship. What he says goes, and if you put up a fight, he’s not above reinforcing his command. Physically or emotionally. No one has ever called the Radio Demon fair, and they’ll never have a chance to. He does enjoy your stubborn fits occasionally, though….they make it so much more fun for him when he has to break you into submission again.

Overprotectiveness. He’s got a bad habit of practically stalking you whenever you’re away from him, but you have quite a temper when he’s put in a vulnerable position. This doesn’t happen often, though. For instance, his brawl with Adam enraged you to want to skin the angel alive. Luckily, Nifty and Lucifer got to know him before you did. Alastor adores it when you hiss at sinners who stare at him a little too long and can’t help but smile wider when you flash him an innocent look right after. You’re smaller and much more prone to be hurt, but you’ll still claw someone’s eyes out for him…yeah he’s never going to let you go.

Alastor isn’t very touchy but delights in invading others' personal space, so having an overly clingy partner would annoy him. You learn he appreciates acts of service more than anything else and is pleased to see what you do for him—keeping his room and Radio Tower tidy even if they’re usually clean and straightening out his bow tie if it’s crooked, bringing him raw meat after a long day of running errands, or even slipping into his room at night to sleep even if he’s wide awake himself just because you ‘miss him.’ It's all so trivial, small things you get used to doing, but meaningful to him nonetheless. He returns the favor in the best ways he can think of. Praise, gifts, making you cum until you can't think straight… You're such a sweetheart, and he can't help showing you bits of gratitude.

Lucifer

A sucker for the cliche type of love. Running into you while on a stroll, seeing how clumsy you can be right off the bat, and feeling obligated to help poor little you make Lucifer giddy. You don’t mainly get why he’s so infatuated with you at first sight, but having the attention of Hell's King is flattering. Your friendliness is what pulls the devil in like a magnet at first. He wonders how you ended up in Hell even though you’re lovely and genuine. He finds kinship with those out of place because he fell from heaven for the same reason. In his opinion, you stand out amongst other sinners by being less of one.

Confidence. Whatever vanity you have, Lucifer drowns in it. Your looks, talents, and impression on others…if it’s all done with a sense of pride, he can’t get enough of it. His drug is seeing the smug look on your face when you make him beg for attention. When you want something from him and know you’ll get it if you ask, that glint in your eye sends the devil spiraling to his knees. You don’t have to be obnoxious about it either; quiet as a mouse hanging onto his arm as he walks about, he’ll, with a slight smirk of delight on your face when people stare at you, stroke his ego more than anything else could. You’re his prize, and he’s glad you’re proud.

Curiosity. You are asking him questions, getting him to talk, or even rambling about what’s on your mind, which comforts Lucifer. It reminds him of his time in heaven, being able to express his thoughts to those who’d listen, and you tend to do the same, which excites the fallen angel. He enjoys explaining things to you, deconstructing complex concepts to see your bright eyes light up with wonder, and the oh-so-sweet smile you give him during long, in-depth conversations eases his heart. The pure excitement on your face when he shows or explains something new to you is contagious. You’re too cut to be left clueless.

Touchiness. Lucifer is very prone to clingy behavior and sees nothing wrong with that. He likes your attention on him. Physical touch is his favored love language, and sharing it with you comes naturally. You often sit in his lap, play with his hair, pet his wings, and cuddle. He can’t get enough of it. He shudders when you’re all over him, pining for a kiss he can’t resist giving to you and whining for another right after he gives in. His hands never wholly leave you, and yours always find a way to bring him in close again.

Creativity. He’s drawn in by those who have an eye for the arts. It doesn’t matter what your interest maybe if it’s a form of expression for you; Lucifer tends to admire it. He’ll go as far as researching facts about the subject/hobbies to impress you with his knowledge and actively participate in the activity. You don’t mind him joining in, happily spending time with him more often, and appreciative that he puts so much effort into learning about something you love to do.

Reliance. Not in the sense that you’re utterly helpless without him but more so that he likes to be needed even for the most minor things. Being unable to help or fulfill another’s wishes irks Lucifer. He embodies pride, and feeling useless damages him a lot more than other things. He’s very attentive and soft-spoken even when agitated with you, and he genuinely does his best to do anything you ask of him. Once you become his, the world (alive or dead) is yours for the taking. He hates it when you brush him off to do something on your own, so you’re bound to let him tag along with whatever you do to keep him busy. He doesn't intrude if it's too severe of a boundary for you, but he can't help but want to take care of you with the utmost diligence.

Brattiness/Sassiness. Lucifer can't understand why he's attracted to a sharp tongue and an even colder attitude (which only occurs when you're upset with him), but he loves every second of it. Sometimes hell does or says things on purpose to piss you off and get your focus back on him. Other times, if you're already in a sour mood, he’ll suggest you take that anger out on him. He's noticed a pattern of you using stress as an excuse for him to fuck your brains out, and he's not mad about it. If making you break down into tears underneath, thanking him for fucking the bitchiness right of you after the edge of another high slowly wears off helps you in any way….Lucifer won't hesitate to participate. He wants to see you happy, but he loves the minor spats of aggression you have, like every other sinner in his domain. Though, you don't get very cutthroat as much as the majority does.

New filler posts because sometimes I have random ideas and need a break from writing a series. ❤️

[anxiousnerdwritings]

How did Ra or Talia react to Damian's feelings? (Ra is ready to raise a new generation of child murderers. God, the old man is ready to become a great-grandfather and lock the reader in a golden cage for Damian when he understands all the advantages.: 1. More heirs 2. Damian is at home because Bruce doesn't approve of incest)

Ra’s would be oddly supportive, weary but supportive all the same. Sure there’s underlying advantages to all of this, at least Ra’s can find some, but his main thing is having Twin!Reader home. He’s missed them dearly and knowing everything they’ve gone through and what they’ve been put through by so many, Ra’s would just have the most relief knowing that his beloved grandchild was back home with him. And if it gets Damian to come back too and take his place as heir then Ra’s couldn’t be more content. Although he’d be much happier if Twin!Reader were to become Head of the Demon like he always wanted but after everything they’ve gone through they need much needed rest and time to just be.

Then again depending on Twin!Reader in this situation, I could see Ra’s being all the more protective of them and not allowing Damian anything to do with them. Let alone anyone else for that matter. I could just imagine Twin!Reader being so broken in so many ways that they’re basically catatonic at this point and Ra’s isn’t going to allow for anyone to try and take even more advantage of them than what’s already been taken. Even if Damian were more than willing to give everything up for his sibling and take the title of being Head of the Demon, Ra’s wouldn’t accept it. How could he possibly trust Damian with his sibling after everything, after Damian himself had part in the breaking of his own twin. If, and big if, Ra’s were to allow Damian back he would need to prove himself greatly before Ra’s even considered allowing him anywhere near Twin!Reader again. And any interactions that are granted would definitely be supervised until Damian had fully gained Ra’s trust again and more.

When it comes to Bruce, in any other case, he wouldn’t be accepting let alone tolerating of anything remotely close to this when it came to any of his kids (let alone his literal biological kids) but I imagine him being pretty warped in his own obsession for Damian’s Twin!Reader. Especially as time goes on and things only get worse. He completely and utterly feels like he failed them and even though he would still very much so continue failing them now, I honestly think Bruce would be supportive of Damian’s feelings for his sibling. He doesn’t want to lose either of his kids again, he wants to finally bring the Reader home and take care of them like he should have been doing all this time to begin with. Bruce has his own making up he needs to do, his own making amends when it comes to Twin!Reader and in some fucked up way he thinks that’s what will come out of this. I don’t want to say Bruce would be all for this and fully accepting of it but he is more tolerating than anything else. He knows deep down that this is in no way, shape, or form acceptable whatsoever and it’s fucked up beyond belief but he also knows that Damian would go off on his own for his twin and knowing just how much Damian is barely holding on to his own sanity at this point that worries Bruce more than anything. At least this way Bruce is able to oversee everything, trying to keep Damian in check and not only him but the rest of the batfamily being there to intervene if need be, but either way it comes at a cost and that cost is Twin!Reader. And Bruce knows that, he knows that it makes him even more terrible than he already was.

In another, much more preferable scenario Bruce wouldn’t tolerate any of this whatsoever and would shut it down as soon as it reared its ugly head. His main priority is bringing home the Reader, taking care of them and trying to salvage what he can to give them some semblance of a life they never had, a life they more than deserve. And for a time Damian would push down his feelings once more but at this point it’s too late and he’s just about bursting at the seams. Maybe he can hold on long enough to finally bring his twin home and play the role of the brother he should have been until he inevitably can’t contain himself anymore. And you can bet Bruce is watching every step of the way, observing and planning how he’ll need to deal with this situation before it even begins. Inevitably Damian will feel pushed out and run to Ra’s who will take him in even if it only meant getting Twin!Reader back home to him. In this scenario Bruce would do everything in his power to do right by Twin!Reader, he’s failed them so much already he vows to never do so again. And he won’t. As much as it hurts him, Bruce would fight Damian and Ra’s as many times over as he has to to protect his other child. Bruce would most likely plan ahead for Damian’s inevitable plan to flee though and keep him contained, probably in the batcave until he could be trusted to be moved back into the manor. I could imagine Twin!Reader finding some sympathy in the situation for Damian, he’s still their brother after all and the time they got to have with him as their brother before he went off the deep end, even if it wasn’t entirely real and hid his true intentions, meant a lot to them. That’s all they ever wanted after all. While Damian is in containment it wouldn’t be too hard to believe that Twin!Reader would visit him, spending time with him. But they’re only doing so for their brother and wanting to help him get better, meanwhile Damian is downward spiraling even more now. His feelings only getting worse. I could see an older Damian being able to pull himself together much better than he would have before, being able to deceive Bruce and the other batfamily members into either letting him out or allowing him out of containment and into just being grounded now in the manor. Maybe Bruce sees through Damian’s deception but so long as Damian doesn’t act on his feelings, Bruce can allow him to be with Twin!Reader. Solely as a brother.

I don’t quite have thoughts about Talia in this situation yet, at least not too many thoughts. I’d like to imagine her actually trying to be a good mother in this situation for Twin!Reader and trying to protect them from Damian’s depraved feelings and both Ra’s and Bruce’s enabling (if that’s the scenario we’re going with). And just her overall trying to help her child get away, maybe even seeking refuge with Diana taking the Reader away to Themyscira or Talia herself going on the run with the child she had so loathed long before but now is desperately trying to protect.

[eddiesgmcsierra1500denali]

Could i request another sneak peak of eddies big meat .. 🥺🙏… in this trying time …

aw hi best friend she lives in my scraps doc now to be ripped apart for future use because i stopped wanting to look at her ... so you can have the whole dream sex scene where spit is acceptable lube and eddie still has his mustache <3 :)

1.7k of nsfw under the cut lmao

He knows it’s Eddie marrow-deep, the way anyone knows anything in a dream.

Buck opens his eyes to light everywhere, so radiant the entire bedroom shimmers, a pale beam of it crossing Eddie’s long golden fingers where they’re clasped around Buck’s forearms to keep him in place. Eddie’s draped along his back, unapologetic about letting Buck, prone and practically immobilized, bear his full weight. Buck can’t see him, and he doesn’t say a word, just rubs his mouth into the spot beneath Buck’s ear and digs his thumbs into the insides of Buck’s wrists, but Buck is certain Eddie’s smiling. His mustache, which he’d long-since shaved in real life, is bristly, but nice. Really nice. Softer than Buck had thought it would be.

Then there’s the matter of Eddie’s cock, which he rocks slowly into the cleft of Buck’s ass. Buck can’t see that either, but it feels nice, too, stiff and hot and already soaked at the head. Buck tries to arch into him, give him something else, make it better; Eddie just laughs and keeps working him into the mattress, a lazy pantomime of a real fuck.

Dissatisfied, Buck struggles beneath him. Eddie bites him at the nape like an animal, hard enough to sting, and flattens his chest between Buck’s shoulder blades to settle him. He flexes his grip on Buck’s arms. Trapped like this, Buck can feel all of him: his ribs expand, and his belly presses into Buck’s spine as he sighs. 

The restlessness—whatever it is, that under-the-skin itch to stay in motion—drains away, defeated by Eddie’s wordless command. Buck sighs, too, turning his cheek into the pillow. 

The thing is, he knows it’s Eddie because it couldn’t be anyone else. 

“Good. That’s good,” Eddie says, low, dragging kisses across Buck’s jaw and cheek.

Buck’s not even doing anything. Eddie won’t let him, so he doesn’t try—even as mouthwatering want seizes his gut and pours blistering heat through his pelvis. He can’t stop shifting his erection against the sheets. The praise still doesn’t feel entirely unearned.

“It’d be better,” Buck says, “if you would actually put it in.”

“We ain’t got time for that,” Eddie says. Then (and he’s definitely smiling—the shape of it curls around his words): “Morning, Buck.”

It’s the familiar, beloved rasp of Eddie’s voice, that mundanity paired with getting almost-fucked, that makes Buck groan with impatience and spread his thighs. A blunted ache throbs behind Buck’s sternum. It’s dirty to let himself be overpowered this way, he thinks, except for that it feels closer to being held than pinned. With Eddie—his warm skin, his steady breath—it doesn’t matter. It’s all the same.

“Come on, Eddie,” he says. “Quit humping me.” 

“That’s usually my line.”

“Woof,” Buck huffs, and they both laugh—Eddie’s, shaky and breathless, his cock nudging right where Buck needs him; Buck’s, a little awed over this quotidian exchange alone. 

Buck noses to the side and opens his mouth against the back of Eddie’s hand, licking at the thin salty skin. He imagines there’s a vein there. He imagines he can feel the blood inside of it pulsing on his tongue—onto his tongue—and follows it to Eddie’s knuckles. Scraping his teeth over them, he tries again: “We could make time.”

“You might be off today, but I’m gonna be late for my shift,” Eddie says. He’s wrong. He’s never late. Buck hitches his ass up, insistently seeking contact.

Eddie groans, long-suffering, dropping his over-warm face into Buck’s shoulder.

“You won’t. And if you are, I—I’ll tell Cap it was my fault,” Buck coaxes. 

He doesn’t have to, since Eddie’s already letting go of him, spitting into his palm, drawing away just enough to reach down, wet his dick, and guide it firmly into place. But it’s nice to beg so freely, even nicer to chase down that singular moment where Eddie gives in. To keep pushing, just because he can—because Eddie allows it, every time.

“Please don’t,” Eddie snorts. He rubs up against Buck’s hole, purposeful rather than teasing now, and Buck shivers, clenching under the contact. “I’m pretty sure that breaks the station law against oversharing, and I don’t have enough cash left for the Buck’s Big Mouth jar.”

Buck’s shameless snickering dissolves into a wavering moan as Eddie eases forward, opening him on just the tip first. Even that feels like a lot, feels fucking good, the first couple inches igniting nerves that make the backs of his thighs tingle.

“Fuck,” he says. Whimpers, really, kind of airy and tremulous.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“This what you wanted?” Eddie’s pressed all the way into him, flush with Buck’s ass. He grabs Buck around the hip to maneuver the angle, tilting him perfectly into place as if by instinct. The first firm thrust wrenches all the air from Buck’s lungs.

“Eddie,” is all he manages, naturally.

The slide is effortless, too easy with spit alone, but Eddie’s cock fills him up so well that all Buck can think is that if this is real, if this is happening, then maybe it was just meant to be right here, taking up all this space inside him, and that Eddie was meant to be here, too, the whole of his body an anchor. His hips begin to snap, hard and focused enough to get Buck panting. 

“W—Wait,” Buck gasps. “Go slow.”

Eddie obliges, of course. He kisses the nape of Buck’s neck, the sore spot he’d used to bully Buck into submission before. It tickles. 

“Slower,” he begs—for the first time in his life, probably. It’s a sudden, inconvenient desire, considering they really don’t have much time. 

Incredulous but uneven, Eddie asks, “Seriously?” 

Buck grins. “Yeah,” he says.

Eddie’s got a grounding hand clamped tight and high on Buck’s waist, fingertips hooking beneath his ribs. Buck reaches around, takes him by the wrist, and guides that hand up to his throat, choking off his own desperate moaning mostly because he knows Eddie finds it unbearably hot. 

“Buck,” Eddie maybe mumbles, although it’s hard to decipher through the hazy head rush. He gives Buck a loving squeeze, but that’s not enough; after squeezing his wrist in return, Buck tugs him up until he can wrap his lips around Eddie’s forefingers and suck. 

He’d asked for slow, so Eddie’s barely even fucking him anymore. His hips remain crushed to Buck’s ass; he’s rocking forward in small, tight motions like there’s any way to get deeper. There isn’t, there can’t be. Stretched raw, speared apart, Buck already feels disassembled. 

Eddie shifts, and it’s—“There, right there,” Buck groans, garbled with his mouth full, but Eddie understands. 

He must take it as, like, permission, or something—God, that’s a nice idea—because he presses down on the ridge of Buck’s bottom teeth and pushes his nose against Buck’s ear and gives it to him. No more of that indolent grinding; he slams in, smooth and ceaseless, unforgiving on Buck’s prostate.

“I love you,” Eddie says, hoarse with sudden emotion. “You know that?” 

Fuck, yes—with Eddie’s broad, calloused palm holding his jaw fast, and Eddie’s fingers down his throat, and Eddie’s sweaty cheek brushing his, and Eddie’s big cock ripping him wide, he does. He feels it everywhere. He cries out, muffled, guttural, and deliriously pleased as the heat builds. 

“Answer me,” Eddie murmurs. He slips his fingers out of Buck’s mouth. A strand of drool keeps them connected to Buck’s lower lip. One particularly rude thrust punches a strangled noise out of him. 

“Fuck, Eddie, I—I know.”

“What do you know?”

“You love me,” Buck says. “I know you love me.”

“That’s right,” Eddie says, pressing a sloppy, proprietary kiss under Buck’s ear. “I love you, Buck.”

“I want—”

“You ready to come?”

“Yeah,” Buck moans, and then, “No, I—” 

Somehow, with Eddie surrounding him, it hadn’t occurred to Buck how badly he needed to breathe his air and touch him, too—to kiss his mouth, taste the sweat on his mustache. To thumb at his furrowed brow. To watch him come and bask in the blazing heat of his satisfaction. 

Eddie would like it—filling Buck up, flooding him inside. He does like it. Doesn’t he? Likes laying his claim, more than anything. 

That’s what it really is, after all, when he gives Buck his cock, and his come, and his bite, and his hand around Buck’s throat, and every spare, hard-won minute he’s got. I love you really means that Buck’s his to keep, and Eddie even says that in his sleep sometimes, mumbled into Buck’s hair and occasionally broken by his embarrassing snoring. 

He must like that Buck belongs to him. He has to. More than anything, Buck needs to look Eddie in the eye when he says everything he wants to say, so he can be absolutely certain of this. He was certain, a moment ago, but Eddie’s grasp on him is weakening, or maybe Buck’s slipping out of his hold. 

Buck tries to tell him, “I want to see you.”

Ideally, Eddie will grin when Buck turns in the cage of his arms and begs: Don’t go anywhere. I love you, too. Let’s just do this forever. I can take it. He’ll make that sound he makes, that quietly amused “Hm,” that has a million meanings, all of which Buck has memorized. He’ll dutifully argue that they’d probably miss their real life eventually—plus they’ve got a mortgage to pay and Buck would get bored without the thrill of saving lives. Eddie’s good at choosing the right moment to be a little bit terrible, so he’ll grab Buck by the thighs to stifle any retort, haul him into position to pound him just right, and say something irresistibly dirty, like, Give it to me, sweetheart, show me how you come. 

And Buck would. He’s already close; it’s knifing through his belly, the only palpable feeling left—

Forget an orgasm; he doesn’t even get to roll over before the whole scene washes away, taking Eddie with it.

Panting, Buck blinks the afterimage of Eddie’s hands out of his head, but he can’t banish the thought that he wouldn’t let Eddie try to convince him of anything. He’d pull him down, kiss him hard, lick his canine teeth, and plead again, and again, and again, until Eddie agreed to use his body as a dwelling; to live inside him, and nowhere else.

[evergone]

Theodore Nott General + Dating HCs

Theodore Nott x reader

Warnings: Smoking, alcohol, nudity, swearing.

Description: General and dating headcanons.

Smokes mostly when he’s anxious or angry (or any other negative emotion) rather than as a recreational activity.

Has tried to quit, but never sticks with it.

A big fighter — hates it when people talk shit about you or his friends and is almost always the one to start fights.

So protective of you it’s not even funny, and Blaise and Draco are always there to back him up when he fights for your honour or whatever.

Physical touch and quality time are his two biggest love languages because he didn’t get much of that when he was growing up. After that its gift giving, acts of service, and words of affirmation (he’s not a big talker).

Always has to be touching you in someway, be that linked pinkies or you sitting on his lap.

If you’re a legimens he always wants you to be reading his mind so you can see how pretty you are.

Argues with Hermione Granger’s annotations in the library books and forces you to take his side even when you think he’s wrong because “you’re [his] girlfriend and therefore you have to be on [his] side.”

Doesn’t personally wear glasses but loves to try on yours if you wear them — especially if you’re really blind.

Loves it when you read to him (he just loves the sound of your voice).

Prefers essays and non-fiction to fiction.

Is surprisingly good with kids. If you have siblings then they’re probably obsessed with him.

Not a big pet name user because he likes the sound of your name but when he’s drunk or feeling particularly soppy he’ll call you ‘lovey’ and occasionally ‘baby’ or ‘babe.’

Doesn’t mind being called pet names, but also prefers his name. He just adores being called ‘Teddy.’

He swears he doesn’t have a best friend, but everyone likes to assume they’re his best friend which can be a bit difficult when someone mentions this (“I’m literally his best friend, Blaise, what the fuck?” “He barely even likes you, Pansy!” “He doesn’t like either of you, I’m his best friend.” “Shut up, Draco, I’m his girlfriend and therefore his best friend.”)

In actuality, his best friend is probably Madam Pince.

So smart its not even funny. He’s coming in the top three ranks for every class he takes.

Also has no time for stupid people. If someone can’t keep up with his brain than he just won’t talk to them ever again.

Never wants to be a Death Eater and when Draco told him that he was, Theo didn’t talk to him for a week.

Has read almost every book in the library.

Sometimes reads muggle books as a sly form of rebellion against his father.

His favourite book is one you bought him for his birthday.

Doesn’t really like animals all that much but if you have one he’ll tolerate it (the kind of guy to say ‘no’ to getting a puppy and then gets it for you but ends up as the puppy’s biggest fan, like, buying a million different dog beds and including it in family photos).

Loves to take baths with you, especially if you let him wash you or you wash him.

You’d think his favourite place at school would be the library, but its actually his dorm. He loves it when you stay with him for the night — mostly because he likes to hold you, but partly because he likes when everyone gets to see you walking out of there in the morning.

Has a million photos of you up on the walls of his dorm and his bedroom at home.

His favourite pastime is taking you shopping.

Prefers to hang out at the shops with you, Pansy, Daphne and Millicent (and sometimes Astoria) than staying behind with the boys because he gets to pay for all your stuff.

Dresses better than anyone in the school and expects you to dress just as well.

Takes you to every event he’s invited to because he’s a little more popular than you.

Definitely doesn’t think or know he’s popular though. He thinks he’s such a little recluse that nobody really knows who he is, but everyone knows him and so many people think he’s incredibly cool. Draco and Blaise make a point not to let him know this so he doesn’t get a big head.

Doesn’t know how to cook so you try your best to teach him.

Loves everything you make for him.

His favourite type of music is vocal jazz.

The two of you didn’t have a secret relationship per se, but neither of you told anyone when you started going out and just let everyone figure it out using context clues (Daphne and Pansy were so offended that you didn’t tell them and will never forgive you for this).

If you weren’t already a part of his friend group, he wouldn’t put in any effort to introduce you to them because he’s not a sociable person himself, but Draco, Pansy, Blaise and Daphne would have all included you so quickly.

Hates taking you home with him because his father is such an arse, much prefers your home (especially if your half-blood or muggle born).

Is so intrigued by muggle things, would have loved muggle studies if his father let him take it as a class.

If your family are very aligned with your cultural heritage he does everything in his power to learn about it. He loves dressing in your traditional dress.

[amongemeraldclouds]

Firewhiskey Confessions

After drinking to cope with your heartbreak, you find a reliable confidante to spill your guts to. Except, he is not who he seems.

Soft!Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Warning: alcohol, fluff, no use of y/n

Author’s note: Just a silly idea, this is unserious. Official entry for @thatdammchickennugget's Hogmarch challenge, prompt 2.

✿ Masterlist | 810 words

I never drank. Obviously, anyone can do what they want with their kidneys. I just didn’t like the idea of slurring my words or tilting gravity for fun, and I preferred to keep my mind sharp.

And yet, my world had tilted anyway without alcohol to blame.

As for my sharp mind? Well, here at Mattheo’s birthday party, all that precious sharp mind has done is hack away at my heart. So screw it. I need a drink.

I grab a shot of firewhiskey as a tray passes by and down it in one gulp, wincing. Well, no one drinks alcohol for its taste. I shake it off and move to the nearest tray for another shot. 

Five shots in, I feel flushed and ready for gravity to tilt, a familiar occurrence at this point. I sneak off to another room when I see Mattheo greeting his guests, laughter pealing and glasses clinking. Everyone is having a great time. Yay! 

In the quiet of the receiving area, I wrap my arm across a coated gentleman for support. “Avoiding the party too, huh?”

When he doesn’t reply, I continue. “Well, don’t worry. I’m not judging you. You see I,” I say, pointing at myself for emphasis, “am avoiding Mattheo. Why did I come to his party only to avoid him, you ask? Well one might say, I don’t make very smart decisions.”

I blink, trying to catch my train of thought.

“You seem to be a very good listener,” I ponder, bringing my face closer to his shoulder since he’s too tall for me to reach his ear. “Can I tell you a secret? But ssshhhh you can’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.”

“I’m in love with Mattheo Riddle and I screwed it all up. Last week, he kissed me during a game of spin the bottle and I just knew there was nothing friendly about the kiss. So what did I do? Confess my long harbored feelings for my best friend like an emotionally intelligent woman?”

“Pssh, nah,” I wave it off.

“Remember, I don’t make smart decisions. What I did was ignore him for a week and then act like nothing happened. By the time I stopped ignoring him, he already had a girlfriend so I’m avoiding him again. I’ll spare you the details, but she’s wonderful. Can’t even hate her if I tried. They’re going to make gorgeous pureblood babies and live happily ever after. I’m so happy for them, but why couldn’t it have been me?” I hiccup.

“Answer me,” I poke at his side.

Instead, I hear an amused voice behind me. “Why are you talking to a coat?”

“I’m not talking to a coat, you’re talking to a coat,” I turn and point at…oh, Mattheo.

“Darling, why are you drinking?” He says, moving towards me.

I blink. “Why do you think I’m talking to a coat?”

“Because you are,” he deadpans. 

Oh. I step back and take a good look at my companion. I sway and Mattheo catches me. “Why do you hang your coats on mannequins instead of racks like everyone else?”

“In case you didn’t notice, I live in a mansion. Not like everyone else either,” he explains patiently like he’s talking to a child.

“Come on, you’re drunk. Let’s take you to my room to rest,” he says guiding me.

I focus my attention on staying upright. When we reach his room, he helps me lay down his bed and hands me a glass of water to help me sober up.

“How much of that did you hear?” I ask when my mind clears up a little.

“Do you want the truth or do you want to save yourself from embarrassment?” He asks.

I groan and bury my head in my hands.

He places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Well if you must know, I don’t have very friendly feelings towards you either, it’s more than that. But when you started ignoring me, I thought you didn’t like me.”

I look at him then and tilt my head, confused.

“Darling, if you stopped avoiding me, I would have very easily told you that I’m only fake dating to help save a friend from a toxic ex-boyfriend,” he explains.

“Wait,” I feel the gears in my head spinning. It’s rusty, but we’re getting there. “So you don’t have a girlfriend and you’re in love with me too?”

“In short, yes,” he says gently.

“Huh,” I grin. “That worked out well, I should drink more.”

“Absolutely not,” Mattheo protests. And then, “really? That’s your takeaway?” He shakes his head, covering me with the blanket. 

I close my eyes with a satisfied smile and sink into the soft, cozy sheets. As I drift off to sleep, I distantly hear Mattheo say, “get rest, we’ll talk more tomorrow,” and faintly feel him kiss my forehead.

[wandasgf]

WUNDAGORE. 18+. mdni.

pairing: villain!wanda maximoff + avenger!reader

summary: wanda gets rid of that pesky memory block of yours

warnings: angst, emotional and mental manipulation, mentions of murder, pet names, reader is overwhelmed and confused, one (1) mommy, allusion to smut at the end

wc: 1.6k~

a/n: кошечка (koshechka) = kitty

The wind that blows past is frigid and the rocks underneath your hands are sharp-edged and cold as you stare up at the Scarlet Witch or whatever the hell Wanda was calling herself these days from your place on the ground. You’re tempted to try and kick her feet out from under her where she’s standing above you, catch her off guard and send her tumbling down the cliff, but you don’t. You just glare up at her, knowing that even if you managed to catch her off guard, she would never fall that easily. She would rise up like the most beautiful archdemon you’ve ever seen and deal whatever damage you’d dealt to her tenfold. To anyone who might be watching, lurking in the shadows but not daring to interrupt either of you, the look in your eyes is one of pure hatred, disgust in its purest form that mirrors the look in Wanda’s eyes. But you both know it’s not true, that the hatred disguises something much worse. Something you’d never admit even in the emptiest of places, something Wanda would only ever admit in your dreams. Something that would destroy you both if you’re not careful. 

“You’re disgusting.” You spit, icy and cold. “Destroying those universes like it’s nothing, like they’re nothing.” You finally get your bearings back, standing up and clenching your fists at your side, trying your best not to just hit her, punch her, shove her down, anything. “All for what? So you can get back a man who tried to kill you?” Jealousy. “A man who wanted to destroy the universe and start over to create the perfect humanity? You know, the more I think about it, the more I think maybe the two of you really are meant for each other.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Wanda hisses, and you think she might push you down again, but instead she pulls you closer to her by your collar. You can feel her warm breath against your skin and you have to repress a shiver. “You think that you know everything about everyone, don’t you? You think I’m doing this for that man? You think any of this is for him?” She laughs like you’ve just said the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?” It’s almost comical to her that you really think that, that you’re so god damn blind that you can’t see what’s right in front of you. She knows why you can’t see it, of course, but she hadn’t always realized how susceptible you were. You can’t see that she’s been trying to find another universe, any other universe where you don’t hate her anymore, where she didn’t fuck everything up and the Avengers didn’t take you away from her. 

She knows she should stop talking, she knows she should shut her mouth before she makes things worse, but she can’t stop herself. She knows how to play the role of the villain to a T now, and if the only way she gets to be close to you again is to make you cry then so be it. “You think you’re better than me because you kill people in the name of the Avengers instead of your own?” She laughs, her grip on your shirt tightening. “I have some news for you, little hero, you’re certainly no better than I am. What is it that keeps you there, anyway? You know you don’t belong there.” It’s a low blow, but she knows how true it is even if you no longer do, “Is it the Russian? Do you stay so you can see the look of approval in her eyes whenever you kill someone for her?” Jealousy. “But you’d do it even if she didn’t ask. I’d say you and I are rather the same, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck you!” The smirk that curls on her lips makes you nauseous and you push her away from you. You know that she let you, loosened her grip on your shirt so you could feel like you’re even half as strong as she is, but you don’t care. “I think that I know everything? What about you! Acting like you know anything about me besides what my blood looks like on your hands.” Your hands are shaking both because of the look Wanda gives you and because you’re upset that she would ever bring up Natasha. Upset at the possibility that this encounter would taint your relationship with the Russian redhead, that Wanda’s words would burn at the back of your mind like acid. Because it’s not true, what she said is not true. You don’t like killing those people, you don’t like seeing their blood on your hands or seeing the light drain from their eyes. You don’t like it. You don’t. 

Wanda doesn’t have to look into your mind to know what you’re thinking, it’s written all over your face. She knows she hit a sore spot with that comment. “I don’t know anything about you?” She tilts her head, taking a step towards you as you take one away from her. “You always talk,” another step forward, “like you know,” and another, “what you’re saying” and then another, you try to take another step backward, but your back hits the jagged wall of the cave, “but you don’t, do you?” Wanda hadn’t been this close to you since she had nearly torn your heart out of your chest and it was making you dizzy. Had she always smelled this familiar and good? You’re very purposefully avoiding eye contact, not wanting to see the satisfaction in her eyes at having cornered you. Suddenly you feel Wanda’s hand gripping your face and forcing you to look at her, “No, you don’t. I’ll fix it, don’t worry.”

Wanda’s eyes glow red for just a minute and you feel like there’s a fog in your brain being lifted before your memories crash down on you like a tidal wave. Wanda’s eyes go back to their regular green color and her hand moves to cup your cheek, her darkened fingertips tapping against your skin. She gives you a second, knows this is going to be a lot for you. She did just unlock over 5 years of forcefully forgotten memories after all. She wasn’t going to do this, it will result in everything the Avengers have at their disposal being thrown at her for taking away their leverage over her, but they shouldn’t have let you come alone and she was growing rather tired of hearing you hurl insults at her and seeing the way you beamed up at Natasha whenever she caught the two of you together. This was poor planning on the Avengers’ part, that’s all. 

Suddenly you feel nauseous, every memory you’ve ever had with Wanda hitting you with full force. You feel like you’ve just gotten a metal bat to the gut and then again to your head. You don’t know what to think. Was this real? Did Wanda plant those in your head? No, that didn’t seem right. This would certainly explain the way certain Avengers acted around you and the way you felt when Wanda was near. You were explaining that away as anxiety, nervousness over being so close to someone to dangerous and vile. You lean into the warmth of Wanda’s touch before you can even think about stopping yourself. She can see the way your mind is racing, how your pupils are blown as you try to piece everything together. Eventually, you look up at her with those doe eyes you used to use on her and she almost tears up. “Wanda?” There you are. 

“Hi, кошечка. You must be so confused, huh? I know it’s a lot, but I promise things will be better now.” Your head spins at her words and her tone, that tone… everything is too much and not enough all at once. Too much information, but at the same time not enough. Why didn’t you remember any of that before? Why were you ever trying to hurt Wanda? Why was she hurting you back? Was she hurting you back? Why had she been doing all of those horrible things? Your Wanda would never do those things. Except, well, this was your Wanda, so surely that makes it excusable, right? But if she was your Wanda, why weren’t you with her? Wanda taps against your cheek to catch your attention again, noticing how unfocused your eyes are as you spiral in your own mind. “Those Avengers were so mean to take you away from me like they did, trying to turn you against me.” 

“I don’t… I don’t understand. Why would they do that? I thought they were supposed to be nice, why would they take me from you? Why would… why?” You’re slowly putting the pieces together while trying to cope with the fact that for the past two years you’ve been treating your… your Wanda like an enemy. Your tough exterior is cracking and crumbling as each second goes by, no longer being kept back by the mental barrier you didn’t even know was there. “Oh, my sweet girl, because they’re not nice. They’ve been keeping you like a caged animal, using you like a weapon and tricking you into trusting them.” Wanda’s voice soothes you if only slightly, but the thought of being used like that has you so angry and overwhelmed with all the emotions clashing in your head that you can’t help but let out a quiet whimper, tears forming in your eyes. Wanda coos, bringing you closer and holding you against her chest. She strokes your hair, humming softly before she speaks again, “It’s okay, mommy’s got you. I’ll make it all better, don’t worry.”

[snake-spire]

So I’m not sure if I should talk about this or if it’s even worth mentioning but, there’s a post trying to villainize Harlan for posting about the US election and “promoting” Malevolent, if anyone has seen the twitter post and those in the Invictus discord would know. And is actively trying to make him out as ableist and racist, and I am absolutely floored by this response and how people aren’t really thinking about it deeper than that. I am censoring the person’s username because I don’t want them to be attacked. Just block them and move on if you end up finding the post.

First of all, Harlan lives in Canada, and I ask, why can’t he say anything to give his audience, who’s primarily queer and American, hope to push on? He uses his podcast as an example to make his point clearer. Because people can relate to it.

It’s insensitive to think that the United States live in this bubble that other people living in different countries can’t care about what’s going on, especially when Canada’s borders are now closed. And the fascist President is actively trying to make it the 51th state for god knows why. (This tumblr post was made at least two days ago)

I’ll come back to twitter because there is actually something about promoting Malevolent that can be seen as pushy (and I do think it was) but it really comes back to bite the op if you aren’t actively paying attention and can’t be bothered to look at the person’s account.

But there are three very heavy claims that this tweet makes that without thinking, are very damning. So let’s dissect that.

1. No one cares that most women characters are dead. And if they do, they really shouldn’t. Harlan is the sole creator of the show. He is the sole actor. Because he wants to. That’s his decision to not bring on other voice actors. Would it be nice? Yeah, absolutely. But I don’t care in the sense that I’m neutral about it. Who’s alive and who’s dead shouldn’t matter. And again, this idea that the women who have died had no impact on the story is diminishing their value as women. They didn’t die for the male lead (most of them anyway). They (especially in season one) were actively doing something and they are quite literally, the only reason the story is happening in universe. So yeah, if you want to be as shallow as possible, there are many dead women in the show. Congrats.

2. What ableist undertones? No really I would like to know. Is it because you think they’re ableist? There are 0 examples in the post to back this up. Are you claiming that the entire show’s undertones are ableist? I am working with absolutely nothing here. If you’re trying to make a “call-out” post or want people like me on your side, give me something. So yeah, I’m tossing that away because op never cares in the first place.

3. Now this is the second most damming thing in the post. Because it’s a somewhat serious allegation to frame Harlan as being racist. But that’s easy to refute: it’s in the name of Shub-Niggurath. And it’s barely in season 1.

Now I’m going to state an obvious fact: H.P. Lovecraft was racist. And there are far worst examples in his work with creatures just straight up named racial slurs and many of his works contain those on the basis. And it’s bad that he wrote that.

I want to make it clear that I am white, I’m not a person of color. And the op isn’t black either after I checked their page. So neither of us can fully comment on the “time period racial slurs” in Malevolent in full. But my college roommate who is black can. And they said it was absolutely ridiculous because there are no slurs being used as it’s a part of the name. and as that roommate pointed out to me, I guess we have to go after Arnold Schwarzenegger because of his last name.

And besides, if you’re going to get on Harlan for saying the name, what about every other piece of Lovecraftian media that included Shub? Because unlike Malevolent where she’s a small drop in the overall story, she’s actually integral to those pieces of media (ie: Sucker for Love 2)

Now remember how the racism accusation was the second most damming thing about the post?

Yeah I think the Nazi claim is there too.

And when someone asked in the reply for proof, the answer boiled down to, look it up. Because again, op couldn’t have been bothered to provide evidence or examples. Is that person still in there? How long ago was this? Does Harlan share those same views now? Does said Nazi still have those views?

I’m not implying that this did or didn’t happen. I don’t know because there is nothing to implicate anything. I shouldn’t have to do the work op couldn’t do themselves.

Now to circle back to the initial Twitter screenshot and something that Harlan can be viewed as being pushy about, I unfortunately couldn’t get a screenshot of the screenshot (again I blocked said person and I do not and will never get twitter) but I do know that when WolfytheWitch had started their listen of Malevolent and got to episode 20, they made a tweet about it and Harlan @ ed them. He had mentioned how fans and Cain needed a distraction in trying times.

Do I find that pushy? Yeah. But again, I don’t really care. Because this show means a lot to people. And they know that if they need to shut the world out for a moment, it’s just a click away.

But what really irks me were the tags about Cain in OP’s reblog of the post where this section is. And it really goes to show that the op has no clue what they were talking about and couldn’t be bothered to provide examples and evidence.

Cain is from the Philippines. They do not live in America. And it’s in their bio everywhere. They don’t hide it. This isn’t a “oh I didn’t know.” It’s an “I couldn’t have been bothered to check.”

I don’t like the idea of call out posts. Hell, I don’t even like that I have to make this post in the first place but it doesn’t sit right with me because I want people to think critically when there is no evidence besides opinions. And the claim that he didn’t ban a nazi which again, I don’t know if that’s true or not because op should have at least provided evidence when throwing out a claim like that.

And I will iterate again, please if you end up finding the post or someone reblogged it, do not harass the op or the person that reblogged it. Because that’s gross and disgusting and you have no place here.

Now I’ve said my piece about a post I probably should have ignored. But I didn’t. Because it was eating me up all day today.

Stay safe y’all

-Snake-Spire

[revelboo]

The latest part of 'It Had To Be You' was *chef's kiss* delicious. Thank you so much, I really enjoyed it 🥹🫶

BTW, ALL YOUR WORKS ARE BEAUTIFUL!!!! 💖💖💖

You're keeping us so well fed 💕

Thank you!

It Had To Be You Pt 14

TFO Megatron x Reader

• “A bit more,” he says, deep voice rumbling through you where you’re leaning against him. Warming as he turns your hand over so his lips can brush the inside of your wrist. Sitting across his lap, amusedly watching him struggle to manipulate the tiny fork in his servos you’re uncomfortably aware of how hard he’s trying. Even mass displaced, the silverware looks dainty in his big hands as he spears a bite and offers it to you. Part of you wants to ask where the food comes from because it’s cooked and you can’t really see your alien warlord bothering to learn how just for you. And if he’s kidnapped a catering company to keep you fed, you probably don’t really want to know that either.

• For some reason, it pleases him to watch you eat from his hand. Knowing that he’s provided for you. Taking care of you. Taking his time and trying to not push too hard, because this fragile new peace between you both means everything. You’d spent the whole night tangled together, sharing secrets, meeting each other for the first time and exploring each other. Reluctantly setting the tray aside when you gently push his arm away when he offers another bite. “This between us,” you begin, voice hesitant. “You thought it was a human thing. Something I did.”

• “It’s not a Cybertronian thing. Or if it is, it’s so rare I’ve never heard of it,” he murmurs, venting to stir your hair as he catches your fingers and rubs a servo against them. Optics lost in thought when you look up, you decide that you like this part of him. Seeing him relaxed instead of angry at the world. Shivering as his mouth opens and he nips your thumb as those optics find your eyes. Breath catching as he runs his glossa against the inside of your wrist, knowing exactly where his mind just went and that if you want to keep talking, you need to distract him before you end up under him again.

• “Do you wish I was like you? Cybertronian?” Nipping at soft skin, he glances up at you, his amusement faltering at how serious you look. Like this question matters, like you’ve been wondering about it for some time. And he’d never thought to take a conjunx, never imagined trusting anyone that much, allowing them so close. Another Cybertronian, an equal, that could hurt him, use or betray him was out of the question. But you’re not an equal, just a little organic that he was drawn to. He didn’t choose you any more than you chose him. Pulled to each other against your wills and unable to escape each other now. Trapped in need even if you’re reaching out to him now, tempting him to let down his guard and hope things might work out even as the cynical part of him knows it can’t. No matter what he wants, no matter how desperately he wants this to be something he’s allowed.

• “No,” he says, the word a soft growl, optics sliding away. Making you wonder if there’s more that he’s not saying. You’re not under any delusions that whatever this is will have a happy ending. That you might grow to love him or be loved in return even as the thought makes your chest hurt. You’re not at war with each other, at least, because the constant fighting was slowly breaking you apart. And no matter how much you like the glimpses he allows you to see of who he’d been before he’d become angry and jaded, you know they’re not really meant for you. He’s not meant for you and that this is temporary. But you want to pretend. To lie to yourself that this can be more.

• Now you won’t meet his optics. And he wonders if you’d asked because you wish he were human. Are you grieving that you won’t have a human mate? A normal life? Feels you blow out a shuddering little breath, head resting against him. “I-do you think you,” you begin falteringly, keeping your face turned where he can’t see your eyes. “Could you ever-never mind.” Feels your shoulders slump as you laugh, the sound soft and bitter. Could he ever what? Venting softly, he rubs his servos against your wrist and tries to figure out where your thoughts went. Because that question you’d started to ask was so small and broken it cuts through his spark. It hurts.

Previous

Next

[kingkatsuki]

Everyone leaving a business course in Japan knows that Dynamight PR is THE job to get. Everyone strives and works for it without really knowing what they’re getting into. They just know it’s the highest paying job you can get and you’ll either never need to go job hunting again, or you’ll have an amazing job on your CV. That is until they work there and realise that Dynamight is a dog that cannot be contained by his PR team and the reason you get hired on the spot if you go looking for other jobs is ‘well if you can work for Dynamight, you can work for anyone’

I could write about this trope for hours I’m so obsessed with it— he’d make your job so insufferable whilst simultaneously being the best part of it😫

On paper, a job at Dynamight’s agency is the dream for anyone in business— never mind a student fresh out of school with no experience. Strict NDA’s meant there was little information about what a job working for Dynamight’s PR team was really like, but the fact that his current manager was signed off sick for stress should’ve been an indication of what the job would be like for you.

You didn’t meet Dynamight during your interview, even though it was held at his agency. A fact you found a little peculiar, thinking a Hero climbing the rankings would be invested in who he’d have as his PR assistant— especially as it could help further his career, but it didn’t surprise you. Dynamight was one of the most in-demand heroes, with the media, fans and public desperate for his attention. Of course he wouldn’t have the time to interview everyone that applied for the job.

But you didn’t even meet Dynamight when you got the job. The three weeks since had been surprisingly calm, surprisingly easy. You’d spend your days filtering through emails, most of them from fans who’d beg for a chance of meeting the Pro, or autographs or merch. Not unlike a lot of the emails from the media, trying to arrange interviews or publicity stunts while trying to offer their fees.

The only complaint you’d received was from a young photographer that hadn’t known any better when he shoved his camera directly under Bakugou’s nose during a rescue mission, the hulking Pro carrying an injured civilian over one of his broad shoulders as he grabbed the camera with his palm. The heat of his quirk no match for the intricate technology as it melted beneath his touch, effectively destroying the memory card as he let it drop to the ground. The only evidence a blurry, charred JPEG of Bakugou’s angry face as he reached out for the device. The complaint quickly settled with a new photography set as compensation, as well as a well scripted apology from the Pro. An apology, which you soon realised, was carefully scripted by yourself and signed by the Pro-Hero himself.

“What do you want?” You hadn’t expected these to be the first words your new boss would say to you, and yet here you were.

“Oh, I’m your new PR assistant,” You understood now why people felt intimidated in his presence. Crimson eyes shot you a glare from across the room before he quickly went back to the laptop on his desk, even though thick-rimmed glasses he still felt as intimidating as ever. Even if he did look much cuter like this— “I just need you to sign this apology to the photographer from last week—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ signing that shit,” He scoffed, “Tell that prick he’s lucky it wasn’t his head.”

Now you understood why there were always vacancies available for this job.

You were certain Dynamight wasn’t trying to make your job difficult on purpose, he always seemed to answer your calls when he was inside his office— even if it was usually with an abrupt “what?”. And he even agreed to tone down his aggressive views online, “Fine, sweetheart. I’ll cut the fuckin’ politics. But you know those fuckers need tellin’ how dumb they are”. The peace could only ever be short lived, because no matter how hard you tried, things just seemed to get worse.

If the hero commission weren’t a bunch of pussies Deku wouldn’t be number one for another year in a row.

“Oh my god,” Your eyes squinted as you read the tweet at six in the morning, before you’d even had a chance to wake up and get ready for the day.

The likes and retweets continued to grow as you began to get messages from your team at the agency, and the media as you contemplated just never coming back.

Usually someone in the IT department would lock his account just in time, or intercept the tweets but it wasn’t always quick enough. You really were in the trenches as you decided to take matters into your own hands. Scrolling to your contacts as you called your boss immediately, pinching the bridge of your nose to try and calm the migraine you knew was coming on.

“You’re callin’ a bit late for a bootycall, sweetheart—” He grunted, his breathing laboured on the other side of the phone so you assumed he was at the gym. Or so you hoped, not wanting to imagine him on top of another woman whilst talking to you, “Don’t you start work in an hour?”

“Cut the crap, Bakugou,” You snapped, irritated by the offensive tweet mere hours after he’d promised to tone it down, “You said no more ridiculous tweets.”

“You said no more ridiculous tweets,” He mimicked your tone, “I’m just posting pure fuckin’ facts and you know it. If the commission weren’t so far up Deku’s ass I’d be number one by now.”

“No,” You growled, “If you weren’t such an insufferable asshole all the fucking time and actually tried to show up to some of the events that were organised for you, you might actually have a chance of changing public perception of you. Nevermind the simple fact that Deku had better numbers than you this month. Deku’s number one because he deserves to be, but you deserve it too. So maybe if you fixed up we could get you there, but instead you choose to be a jerk.”

You couldn’t believe the words had left your mouth. Every single ounce of annoyance and irritation you’d felt working under Dynamight for the past month had spewed out in under thirty seconds. The emotions you’d kept bottled up every time you received a new complaint or read a new interview or post from Bakugou, now released from your system.

And even though you were certain that you’d lost your job now, at least you could say that you’d given your notice in style.

“Well shit,” You heard the running stop on the other side of the phone as you assumed he paused his treadmill, panting into the receiver.

“I’m sorry, sir,” You sighed, “Maybe it’s better if you get someone else for the job—”

“I like it when you’re pissed, sweetheart.” He cut you off completely, catching you off guard, “I’ll see you in an hour. You can tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

[ughdontbeboring]

untitled

Austin Butler x WoC Reader (but no discerption)

reader has a ah ha moment during first time with certain things in her mouth..

warnings: smut

note: I was half sleep and this idea would not leave me and this is short and written quickly so hope yalls enjoy! No proof read 😭 this feels so un done but 🤷🏽‍♀️

X

X

You’re not experienced with this, none of this actually. Austin was patient, when you revealed to him you were a virgin he was surprised especially because of your age, as all people were when you choose to share that with someone. It wasn’t something you advertised on your forehead, but it wasn’t something you were ashamed of you either. 

The first time you had sex or done anything sexual it was with Austin. The most beautiful smart notoriously shy but surprisingly bold and flirtatious Austin Butler. 

You remember feeling him through his pants as he rutted him to your stomach one night, it was the first time you had ever felt a cock and though you couldn’t speak from experience Austin seemed to be on the larger size, you were so overwhelmed with his size it didn’t happen that night. 

The next night though Austin made sure he went out of his way to make you relaxed as possible realizing that letting it be spur of the moment like you had asked, wouldn’t work. You were too anxious about somehow being bad at it which Austin didn’t understand because outside of actually having not having sex you were the most sensual women he knew. 

Austin knew you’d be a great lover, you’d had too many intimate moments together that were so sensual and deeply connecting for it not to be the best sex for both of you, even if you didn’t have anything to compare it to Austin would make sure there wouldn’t ever be a doubt in your mind about not having other partners. He’d ruin you for all others.

But Austin knew it would take you being very relaxed for this to work, he’d seen the fear clear on your face the first time you seen him in all his glory. You’d been adamant it wouldn’t fit. He had to hold back his chuckle not wanting to give you the wrong idea that he was laughing at you but Austin just knew if anyone was meant to take him it was you, you were meant for him. He took so much extra time with you that first night, working you up into a ocean of pleasure from foreplay to his plush mouth eating that sweet pussy before he could even think of fucking you open on his cock.

He freed you in a way that you never felt comfortable allowing a man to do and you had been insatiable ever since also driven by your comfort with Austin.

So to say you were so engrossed in your task at hand -trying to get as much cock into your mouth that you could- even to the point where you had hummed absentmindedly from your own pleasure that you didn’t hear him was an understatement. 

His instructions had stopped minutes ago but his groans and praises hadn’t. When your eyes reach up to his stormy blue ones after a good while of him talking you through it, is when you realize he spoke to you again. 

your curious eyes search his looking for a hint of what he may have said before but all you see is unrestrained pleasure staring back. 

You’re not sure why it comes to mind but it finally clicks when his eye focus for a moment on you. He can’t help but think you look so pretty taking his cock into your wet mouth. A few tears slipping from your pretty eyes. 

But Austin also see the moment it clicks for you. That’s what causes your full lips to smirk as they’re stretched around his thick cock. It’s uncomfortable for you, almost painful especially since you’ve never done this before but you enjoy doing this to Austin, you enjoy pleasing him this way. Even on your knees you feel confident at the vocal praises and noise that he rewards you  with as he towers above you. 

Austin focuses back on the moment. His mind catching up with that fact that you know. He shouldn’t be surprised you’re such a quick learner but he didn’t want to cum just yet he wanted to enjoy this longer but he sees you won’t be allowing this to play out that way, not when you finally feel like the one in control.

You do it again. What he had just told you not to do and his hips buck forward as he groans. 

He hadn’t said why not to and maybe it had to do with his ego but the thought that you have never done this before and Austin was going to cum faster then any woman had ever made him cum before using their mouth had him wanting to prove himself, that he could last longer. Hell he was the one who was supposed to be teaching you. And fuck if he didn’t feel like the student right now while your eyes of mischief and glee stared up at him. 

You pull back and his hands rush to your head needing to push you back down on his cock that you’re not able to take all of just yet though his sweet girl was trying her best. He doesn’t use a lot of force more trying to guide you since this is your first time so you’re able to keep your head where you want it, your tongue flicks the super sensitive spot under the head of his cock, he hisses shit deeply from his chest that’s raising quicker as you taste the pre cum trickles onto your tongue as a sweet for-warning of what’s to come.

He knows you know that he knows what coming next and as he looks down at you with needy but stern eyes he can’t get his words out fast enough to tell you not to be a brat and make him cum down your throat, not yet at least. 

But much to Austin displeasure about his own self control he isn’t fast enough. Both of your soft hands wrap around his spit covered cock and work him as your mouth sucks his tip, your tongue swirling and flicking the tip before you hum, long and loud. 

Your hmmmmmmmmm is heard loudly along with Austin’s curses and panting and the sound of a wet sucking in the otherwise quiet hotel room. You tryin to stop your eyes from rolling back because you’re just so turned on.

Austin’s hips jerk forward into your mouth trying to chase the feeling, trying to get the focus off his tip and drive his thick veiny cock deep into your mouth but with your hands wrapped around him firmly he doesn’t make it further then you allow.  

He groans and moans loudly as his warm milky seed fills your mouth. 

Your eyes fill slightly with surprise at the feeling before they turn into ones of pure pleasure. You continue to suck and hum as you swallow very drop of him that fills your pretty little warm mouth. 

Austin groans out a raspy “fuck baby” his fingers tightly griping the root of your hair to hold you place as you finally take the rest of what you can fit into your mouth, your tongue focusing on the few prominent veins. 

Though he looks down at you with love and admiration, he knows it’s also time to teach you what happens when you behave like brat and for the countless time that night Austin’s stomach flips with excitement at not only being able to have you in this way but to have the honor of being the one to teach you all the ways your body can feel pleasure.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Never Love Another

It was no secret that when Jason came back he came back wrong. The violence and pit rage were the most obvious ones of course, but now that it had faded other little things had started to surface. He had noticed this deep loneliness and homesickness for something he couldn’t remember or name. He didn’t know what to do about it besides, well maybe try to find someone who could sooth the loneliness. But it wasn’t working, if it wasn’t for how bad he wanted a romantic connection he would have thought he was aromatic now because he never, Never felt a spark at all, with anyone.

He actually talked to Dick about it, and let him talk Jason into therapy, but that didn’t help, and when Tim found out about it the paranoid little shit started doing tests. And that was how fucking Bruce found out, and he was even more paranoid so they would not believe it was a coincidence or anything and more tests were done. No answers were found until Batman called in a favour from JLD, Jason tried to insist it wasn’t worth it but Batman said his happiness was the most important thing, which made Jason shut up and make a face like he’d bitten into a lemon.

Now he was just trying to avoid admitting that they were right. “What the fuck do you mean cursed?!” Jason demanded from Constantine who shrugged and lit a new cigarette from the butt of the last one.

“I don’t know mate,” He said with a shrug, taking a drag. “While you were dead you must have pissed off some pretty powerful bastard because it’s Not a petty curse either, not the sort of thing I or Zatanna can break. Looks like it’s to ‘never love again’ or something like that, I don’t know it’s not exactly written in words.” He explained and Jason dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

Of course, why wouldn’t this happened? Honestly though as the literature nerd he was he had to think whoever had cursed him must have been of a similar temperament, given how melodramatic is was.  He wished he could remember what the fuck he had done to get cursed like this?

“So how would we break the curse?” Batman asked, ever solution oriented.

“Don’t know Bats,” Constantine admitted with a one shoulder shrug. “I think you’d have to find whoever cursed him and convince them to lift it. They’re a seriously powerful denizen of the Infinite Realms so we could try a summoning but there’s no guarantee that is would work, and if not you’d have to go to them which would be veeery risky. I’m not sure it’d be worth it honestly, I mean it’s a bit of a blessing isn’t it? Not like our lifestyles really lend to romance,” He snickered and everyone ignored him.

“How long will it take to arrange a summoning,” Nightwing demanded with a frown, why he had to be here too Jason didn’t know but… he was privately a little grateful that he was.

“Mmm A couple of weeks, we have most of the stuff required and the unique ingredients aren’t that hard to find,” the magician hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll remind you, there’s no guarantee that it’s going to work,” he reminded and even though Jason hadn’t looked up he could practically sense the twin scowls Dick and Bruce were shooting John.

“We’re going to try it,” Batman growled and Constantine hummed.

“Sure, whatever you say, I’ll start setting it up.”

------

Those two weeks were plenty of time to panic about who it might be, what Jason might have done to cause this, and what the being might do if they answered the summons. They had a lot of preparations to do, but when Jason tried to say they shouldn’t do this Bruce and the others insisted that they needed to know ho had it out for Jason if just in case they decided to cause more problems. There was discussion about if Jason should be present, but he really wanted to be if this was happening, he wanted to see the monster that had cursed him.

Constantine and Zatanna were both there the day of, as well as Batman and Nightwing, and superman, just in case things went horribly wrong. The spell was… stressful for Red Hood, the portal it opened made him feel like he was staring into the Lazarus pits again, even if it was missing the feeling of rage.

It felt like they were all holding their breath for a few long minutes waiting to see if the summon would be answered. Jason was just starting to think that no one was going to answer when a white booted foot stepped through, followed quickly by the rest of the body.

Jason blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at the being that had answered the summons, not because they were some incomprehensible monster, but for the opposite reason, because they looked so human. Not normal, their ashen skin, pointed ears, and white hair that disregarded gravity, made sure of that, but he looked human other then that. A head or so shorter then Jason, lean and agile looking with unusually wide hips and soft curves for a man. His ears were pierced three times, two having studs like planets and a set of dangly ones shaped like a sun and a moon which glinted in the light of the glowing crown on his head. It looked like ice that had trapped the northern lights within them, it was beautiful, it took his breath away.

He had a vague feeling that the others present were talking, but Jason and, it seemed, the spirit, were not hearing them. Jason couldn’t tear his gaze away from the creatures Lazarus green eyes, why did he feel so familiar.

“Jay,” The being breathes, a bright smile spreading across his face, revealing little fangs that shouldn’t have been so adorable. “How did you, you shouldn’t have called me, I don’t… You don’t remember me do you? You shouldn’t,” He breathed, the smile dropping as the initial joy at seeing Jason overtaken by worry.

“We want to know why you cursed my son!” Batman shouted, suddenly cutting through the odd, tunnel version they’d both been trapped in and sending them both reeling. Jason had been leaning forward and ended up stumbling.

“Oh,” The creature sounded, his brows furrowing as Jason finally looked around and noticed how Constantine was cowering.

“Batman! Don’t yell at the fucking king of the Infinite Realms!” Constantine practically squeaked. The king?! How had Jason pissed off the king?! “We’re so sorry for disturbing you your Majesty, please don’t destroy us,” the wizard said, sounding like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

The being still in the circle cackled and crossed his legs under him, sitting on air at the odd cape that looked like it was made of the night sky billowed behind him. “Don’t worry I’m not planning on it, honestly, I am happy to see you again Jaybird,” He said with a soft smile, his gaze going back to Jason like he wanted to drink him in. “You’ve grown so much pretty-bird, are you happy? Do you like being alive again?” He asked worriedly. “You’re always welcome back-“

Nightwing read that as a threat that this supposed King was going to kill Jason again and yanked him back, standing between Jason and the stranger, even though he was shorter and slimmer then Red Hood. “He’s not going anywhere! Why did you curse him?” Nightwing demanded again.

“It wasn’t a curse, it was a price,” Phantom said with a frown. “I would let him go, but not to love another.”

“Love, another?” Jason asked this time, his voice harsh and soft. God how his heart ached, why couldn’t he remember something that made him feel so much longing and pain?

“Another,” Danny said, his voice softening again. “While you were in my realm we were… Close, very close. But you couldn’t let go of life, you weren’t ready to give yourself to me, not fully,” Danny bit his lip for a moment. “It hurt, but I only wanted what was best for you Jay, so if you had unfinished business… well, I let you leave. I did! I let you go, but-but maybe I was selfish, I was going to be waiting decades for you and-and I couldn’t stand the idea of waiting that long only for you to have fallen in love again with someone in life and, even after dying and remembering me, choosing to stay with them! So that was the deal, you get to live again, but only if you don’t love again, and you come back to me when you’re done. You agreed.”

There was a long silence as everyone processed what the king had said, it was Constantine who reacted first, rounding on Jason. “You dated the King of the Infinite Realms!?” He demanded, flabbergasted.

“Ugh, just call me Danny, I’m the king sure but I don’t care much for the title,” The bring in front of them corrected with a grimace.

“Danny,” Nightwing said, holding out his hand in a sort of placating gesture. “Can you… change the price?” He asked uncertainly.

“NO!” Danny said instantly, his voice echoing in a way that made those present flinch. “No, the deal still stands. I let him leave my kingdom, but I won’t completely give him up. I can’t, I can’t,” Danny said and Jason could swear he saw Danny’s eyes glimmer with tears.

“It’s alright,” Jason said, softly as he could, Danny’s pain called to him in a way he couldn’t explain. “It’s just, I’ve been lonely, I’ve felt like I’ve been missing something since I came back. I thought it was love, but now I think, I think it’s you. I’ve been homesick, for You,” He said, stepping closer again and holding out his hand. John yelped when Jason broke the circle, but he was being ignored.

Danny’s eyes widened in shock, then welled over with tears as he reached out and took Jason’s hand, his feet landing back on the ground as he stepped closer. “I’ve missed you too Jaybird, I’ve missed you like you wouldn’t believe,” He practically whispered. As he stepped over the line a white ring ran up and over his body, leaving a- well, for all appearances a human man with similar features and inverted colours, maybe a little younger then Jason. “I’m sorry you’ve been lonely, but I wanted to let you live your life. If you want, I could visit more? I would be happy to put in the work to, start over, let you get to know me in this life?” He laced their fingers together, taking Jason’s other hand as well, standing chest to chest and looking up at him through dark lashes, framing beautiful clear blue eyes.

“I would love that,” Jason breathed. Startled by a sound of disbelief behind him, he’d forgotten Nightwing was there and he glanced back. “What? It solves the problem of me being unable to love, it turns out I was just trying to love the wrong people.