#or if maybe she was adopted sometime after that happened

[mmso-notlikethat]

ten years (so sad) …. now what’s that you said about him dying and no one knows for 20-30 years…. 👀

(please please please i need more angst 🙏)

honestly i have no excuse except i wanted to write Tommy's pov and you wanted a longer coma-ish sorry no death (i couldn't)... but this is still way too sad even for me :)...

No MCD, but there is an OC death. / Heavy Angst :)

The first time Tommy realized he wasn’t dead—really knew he was still alive—was after what must have been weeks. Maybe a month. A nurse brushed his arm during a bed change, and he felt it. Faint, like a whisper on his skin, but enough to flood him with hope. He tried to speak, tried to move, but his body betrayed him. His voice was a phantom, his muscles silent.

The nurse left, oblivious.

He wanted to scream. He tried to scream.

Nothing.

After some time—Tommy couldn’t know exactly how much, a couple of months, maybe less or more—Buck showed up. Tommy thought, How…? But the question faded as quickly as it came. Instead, a warmth spread through him, a quiet, desperate relief.

Buck showed up almost every day. Tommy figured Buck must come whenever he wasn’t on shift. He could hear Buck’s voice, steady and warm, as he talked about everything and anything to fill the silence. He talked about Maddie having another baby, about Eddie moving back to El Paso for a while, and then coming back with Christopher.

Sometimes Buck would cry, his voice breaking as he whispered, “Please, Tommy, just wake up. Please.”

Those moments tore Tommy apart. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to wipe away Buck’s tears, to tell him he was still here. But his body refused to cooperate. All he could do was listen, helpless, as Buck poured his heart out beside him.

A year passed.

Tommy didn’t know how he kept track of time, but he felt it move around him.

The nurses would mention dates in passing, news reports played faintly on TV screens in the hallway, and Buck still came. Once or twice a week, like clockwork, Buck sat by his side, talking about the firehouse, Maddie, Jee-Yun, her sister, and the world outside. Tommy tried to listen, to hang on to those words. They were all he had.

But he also noticed the changes. Buck didn’t stay as long as he used to. Sometimes his visits were rushed, his words distracted. Tommy wanted to shout, Don’t go yet. I’m here! I’m still here!

But he couldn’t.

Five years passed.

The visits became less frequent. Buck came once a month now, bringing flowers that always wilted before the next visit. Tommy learned to brace himself for the quiet. He spent his days locked inside his own mind, desperate for some way to communicate, to show anyone that he wasn’t gone. The staff—the nurses, physical therapists, doctors—anyone… But especially Buck.

Whenever Buck came, he brought a presence to the room that Tommy clung to. He talked about everything: the 118’s updates, Maddie’s growing family, Eddie and Chris, and especially Alex, the little boy he had adopted last year. Buck’s voice lit up when he spoke about Alex—how he was starting to babble, how he smiled the brightest at bedtime stories, how he loved to play with his stuffed animals.

Tommy loved hearing about him. He loved Alex, even though he’d never met him. He clung to those stories like lifelines.

One day, Buck sat down heavily in the chair beside him, his voice quieter than usual. “I met someone,” he said, his words hesitant. “Her name is Amelia. She’s… she’s great Tommy. You’d like her.”

Tommy’s heart shattered, but he couldn’t blame Buck. What else was he supposed to do? They weren’t together when this happened. They hadn’t been for months. He shouldn’t have even hoped. Buck deserved happiness, even if it wasn’t with him. And Tommy had no right to feel like this—no right to feel the ache that settled deep in his chest.

Still, the words haunted him long after Buck left.

Ten years passed.

Buck came every three months now, sometimes less. Tommy had given up trying to track the days. He spent most of his time floating in and out of awareness, only rousing when someone touched him or adjusted his position. The staff rarely spoke to him except to comment on his care. He was just another body to them.

The next time Buck visited, his smile was softer, his voice lighter. “I married her,” he said, raising his hand instinctively to show the ring, even though Tommy couldn’t see it. But somehow, Tommy felt it. “Amelia. She’s amazing, Tommy. She’s good for me.”

Tommy’s chest ached, but also, he was happy for Buck. Genuinely happy. Buck deserved this, deserved someone who could be there for him—though he couldn’t move a muscle to show it. He wondered what Amelia was like, what it would feel like to meet her. But all he could do was listen as Buck described a life he would never be part of.

Buck stayed longer this time, the warmth in his voice pulling Tommy out of the haze he lived in most days. “Oh, and uh… I’m a captain now,” Buck said, almost shyly, as though he didn’t want to brag. “Took me long enough, huh? Bobby always said I’d get there. I wish you could’ve been there, Tommy. You would’ve laughed at the whole thing. I was so nervous.” He chuckled softly, the sound tugging at something deep inside Tommy.

Tommy wanted to tell him, Good job, Evan. You deserve that. I’m so proud of you. The words sat heavy in his chest, unsaid and unheard.

A few visits later, Buck shared something that lit up the room. “Amelia’s pregnant,” he said, his happiness spilling into the space like sunlight. “We’re having a baby, Tommy. Can you believe it? Me—a dad again.” He laughed lightly, and Tommy could almost picture the sparkle in his eyes. “I hope the kid turns out as awesome as Alex.”

Tommy was happy for Buck. He truly was. He just wanted to be part of it somehow, maybe in some small way he already was. But he wanted Buck to know—really know—how happy Tommy was for him. How much he wished he could say it, could share in this joy with him.

Fifteen years passed.

Buck’s visits came twice a year now. He still talked, but not as much. There were longer silences as he sat by the bed, looking at Tommy with guilt in his eyes. “Amelia and I… we had a little girl,” he said during one visit. “Her name’s Emma. She’s five now.”

Emma. Tommy committed the name to memory, repeating it over and over in his mind like a prayer. He imagined her laugh, her tiny hands. Did she have Evan’s eyes? His curls? Or maybe she had a birthmark just like him… His thoughts lingered. Maybe she looked like her mother.

He wanted to say, Tell me more. Don’t stop talking about her. But Buck’s voice trailed off, and the silence stretched between them.

Years continued to pass, and when Buck visited again, his voice carried the weight of something Tommy couldn’t place. Alex was 14 now, and Emma was 8. Buck sat heavily in the chair beside him, his words slow and uneven. “She left, Tommy,” he said quietly, his hands wringing together. “Another person left me. I know this time it isn’t anyone’s fault… but this hurts.”

Tommy’s heart twisted, confusion and worry gnawing at him. Who left? Buck didn’t say, and the silence that followed felt different—deeper, darker. He tried to reach out, to say anything, but his body stayed still, his voice trapped.

Frustration bubbled up in Tommy’s chest, followed by a wave of hot, searing anger. Why? Why can’t I move? Why can’t I tell him I’m here? He raged silently, cursing his own body, the years of silence, the cruel trap he was locked in. He wanted to scream, to reach out and shake Buck, to demand answers, to comfort him, to do something. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing.

The anger simmered as Buck sat there, quiet and heavy with grief. Who left, Evan? he thought frantically. What happened? I’m so sorry, Evan. Please, talk to me. Over and over, Tommy repeated the words in his mind, desperately wishing Buck could hear them. He didn’t understand what had happened, but he wanted to comfort Buck, to take away even a fraction of the pain he could feel radiating off him.

But Buck didn’t say anything more. He sat quietly for a while, then stood and placed a hand gently on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’ll see you soon,” he said softly before walking out of the room.

Tommy was left with his thoughts, his heart breaking for Buck. Whatever had happened, Tommy wanted Buck to know he wasn’t alone—even if he couldn’t tell him.

And then, as always, the helplessness crept back in, wrapping around him like chains. He was powerless, and that hurt almost as much as whatever Buck was going through.

Twenty-two years passed.

When Tommy finally woke up, it wasn’t dramatic—no gasp of air or miraculous surge of energy. His eyes simply opened, his body heavy and alien, and his first breath was shallow and labored. The nurse beside him gasped, calling for a doctor as Tommy’s gaze slowly wandered around the room. It was brighter than he imagined, and the world felt distant, blurry.

It took days for Tommy to understand just how much time had passed. He couldn’t walk. His muscles were too weak, his body unrecognizable. His reflection in the mirror was a stranger—lines etched deep into his face, his hair thin and gray.

The days that followed were a blur of tests and therapies. His muscles were too weak to move much, and his voice cracked like old paper when he tried to speak.

The doctor explained everything—how long he’d been in the care facility, the complications, and how much time had passed.

It wasn’t until the door opened, and Buck stepped inside, that it truly sank in.

Buck was older now, his face lined and his shoulders broader. His hair had streaks of silver, and his movements were slower but steady. He carried himself with a confidence that hadn’t been there before, though his eyes carried something else—something heavier. He looked just as Tommy knew he would—familiar in a way that was both comforting and heartbreaking.

Tommy couldn’t speak much yet, his throat raw from disuse. But he mustered all the strength he had, letting a faint smile curl across his lips. “Hey,” he rasped, the words barely audible.

Buck froze, his eyes wide, his breath catching in his chest. He blinked rapidly, his hands trembling as they curled into fists at his sides. “H-hey,” he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. He was holding back tears, but Tommy could see how close he was to breaking.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, two men who had been separated by time and silence. Buck pulled a chair closer and sat down, reaching out to rest a hand lightly on the edge of Tommy’s bed. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum and beeps of the machines tommy still needed.

After a long pause, Tommy rasped out, “She… left?”

Buck frowned slightly, confused. “What?” he asked, his voice unsure, like he didn’t quite remember. For him, he said that line years ago—he couldn’t know that for Tommy, it was as vivid as yesterday.

Tommy hummed softly, gathering strength. “You said… she left. Who?”

The realization hit Buck slowly, he sat back slightly, as though reaching into a distant memory. “Oh…” His shoulders sank, and his eyes grew impossibly sad. “Amelia—uh… my wife,” he said quietly, almost stumbling over the words, his voice hollow. “She died… a car accident.”

Tommy’s eyes softened, filled with sorrow. His throat ached as he struggled to speak, his voice hardly above a whisper. “Sorry,” he said hoarsely. “Must’ve been… hard.”

Buck’s head shot up at that, his brows furrowing. He stared at Tommy, almost disbelieving, his lips parting in surprise. It was hard. It had been one of the hardest things he’d ever gone through. Losing Amelia had left him a widower, his kids without their mother. It had left a hole he still carried, even now. But for a moment, he couldn’t process that Tommy—frail and still recovering from decades of silence—was the one trying to comfort him.

A faint, disbelieving laugh escaped him, almost reflexive. He shook his head, his voice soft and tinged with disbelief. “Are you really saying that?” he whispered, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

And then he froze, his breath catching as his eyes widened. His voice faltered when he spoke again. “Wait… y-you… you heard?”

Tommy nodded faintly, a small, almost fragile smile on his lips. “Everything,” he rasped, the word carrying the weight of decades.

And it hit Buck—all at once. Everything. Tommy had heard it all. The stories about Alex and Emma, the confessions, the heartbreak, the joy, the grief. Twenty-two years of words poured into a void Buck had thought was empty, but Tommy had been there the whole time, trapped and silent. Listening. Always listening.

The realization broke something in Buck. His face crumpled as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, one hand covering his mouth as the first sob escaped him. His shoulders shook as he cried, the weight of twenty-two years crashing down on him in a way he hadn’t expected.

Tommy wanted to reach out, to tell him it was okay, but his body still wouldn’t cooperate. All he could do was whisper again, “Evan, it’s okay. I’m here now.”

But for Buck, the guilt and pain of all those years spent talking to someone he thought couldn’t hear him—and the thought of what Tommy must have felt, locked inside his own body—was too much. He thought how he had left Tommy alone longer and longer over the years, how his visits had decreased while Tommy was still there, still listening, still waiting.

He stayed there for a moment, head in his hands, as Tommy lay quietly, his faint smile never wavering.

Then Buck quickly wiped his face, taking a deep, steadying breath. He began to talk to Tommy about things—about Alex, about Emma, about life in general. He spoke softly, a little hesitantly, like he wasn’t quite sure where to start or how much Tommy could take. But he kept going, filling the space with the sound of his voice, just like he always had.

As Buck stood to leave, he turned back toward Tommy and leaned down slightly. “I’ll help you,” he said firmly. “No matter what, I’ll be here whenever I can. I promise.” He paused, his voice softening. “I’ll bring Alex and Emma to visit. They know you, Tommy. They love you.”

That lit something small in Tommy’s face—a faint glimmer in his eyes, the tiniest upward curve of his lips. He nodded weakly, his voice hoarse as he whispered, “Thanks.”

But later, when the room was empty again, and he was alone again… Tommy stared at the ceiling, his chest aching, tears slipping silently down his cheeks. He thought about the years he’d spent hiding behind lies, about the fleeting years when he’d finally embraced who he was, and about the decades he’d spent trapped in silence, invisible to the world.

He’d lost so much time. Too much time.

And now he didn’t know if he’d ever get any of it back.

Thirty-three years pretending. Seven years living. Twenty-two years lost.

What was left for him now?

[rin-the-shadow]

So I know Penguin was probably just making a crack and didn't actually think Batgirl was Batman's little sister, but tbh it could potentially be a good secret identity diversion for both of them if they played into that assumption. Let everyone think Batman's got a kid sister he's finally decided to let tag along on missions, and then pretty much nobody would be looking at Bruce Wayne and Barbara Gordon as potential suspects, since neither one has any siblings.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

hehe me and g.arrus plushie are cuddling!

[whatudottu]

I have a question what were Annie's og parents like(i mean she was willing to run away with five aliens to be her fathers instead so I don't think they might have been the best😬) or maybe they're dead and were good people idk

A lot of the lore is actually written by @sweetpeaches666, who may be tagged under sugarbutterfly432, thanks to Annie technically being a 3 way OC lmao. There has been nothing solidly concrete about Annie's OG parents beyond the fact that she doesn't know her ancestry and she's had many foster homes AND orphanages to live in (plus it'd also be easier legal wise for the Andromeda 5 to adopt her if she isn't officially someone else's kid at the time)

It's actually why she does ballet, one of her foster mothers wanted to recreate her failed dream, turns out it breeds resentment and a lot of running away :P

What can be said is that Annie's been many different homes and in a constant state of transitioning between them, a prime example of being a refunded kid and all that, something something No Roots by Alice Merton yada yada 'oh no that's relatable'. Her birth parents one way or another have never been in her life, though regardless of what actually happened Annie will always believe that they left her behind like like everyone else did :P

[malkaviian]

For some reason I've had A Thought about the vampire AU

[comfortless]

dog hybrid recruit König thots??

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. more loner x loner because it is a treat for me. fem (afab) reader. König is a man just with ears and a tail. vague smut.

He’s the one that was never picked.

So maybe you’re too busy for a puppy hybrid, but maybe you’re a bit too lonely for an empty apartment. You don’t have the space for a big, excitable dog. The cats and bunnies are in high demand, too, there’s no shot of you adopting one of the cute, softer things within your budget. So you settle for a dog. The only dog left at the shelter.

His papers state that he comes from Austria, aged twenty-five and never been put into an actual home before. He’s endured some rigorous military training: scenting, tracking, breaking down thick doors with only a shoulder and an efficient push. A hunter through and through. Then, following his merits: erratic, jumpy, impulsive, and more than a little aggressive.

This dog doesn’t growl, only bites.

The paper sits crumpled in your hands as you eye the dimly lit hallway to your left. Posters of information line the beige walls to either side, some with photos of proud kitties and dogs, hand-in-hand with their companions and cheery phrases printed above in a bright, yellow cursive.

If anything, those are the ones that give you the final push to adopt this unloved, discarded experimental soldier. He’s only been given this one very last chance before… You would rather not think of what comes if you’re to turn away and leave him to rot and wither here. It must have happened a dozen times already: ambitious families looking for a more intriguing addition only to lock eyes with this pitiful thing and shake their heads ‘no’ for him to be put on death row like this.

“He’s scary,” the clerk reminds you once you’re finally led down the hall to the tiny room your new pet— no, friend, must be kept in. It was easy to think of them as something else sometimes. Animal instincts as prevalent as their claws, teeth, and fuzzy little ears. But you didn’t need a pet, there were an abundance of shops for those. You needed a good soul to spill your guts to and maybe pet from time to time.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

The poor thing is locked away to fester in what more closely resembles a cell than anything resembling a home. A steel door with a thin, narrow gap in the middle like a peephole keeps him locked in tight. Peering through that narrow gap, you only then seem to realize just what an impulsive decision you’re making.

König is exactly what the clerk said, continues to say next to you as she searches for the correct key on the ring. He’s bigger than any other hybrid you’ve seen before, built narrow at the waist but broad and deadly where it matters most; arms like narrow trees and thighs larger than your head, all muscle and intimidation, even with the cute, perky ears peeking out of the top of his helmet. He was definitely used for guarding and killing, and how a man his stature could even begin to fail that was unknown to you. Not that it was necessary. At most, he may need to shoo a scuttling pest out of the front door and put away a dish or two.

When the door swings open, the clerk offers a hesitant nod before dismissing herself back down the hall, and you’re left stood with a pair of blue eyes locked directly onto you.

König assesses with a tilt of his head and a slow ascent to his feet. He’s clad in layers of black, an empty vest where magazines or grenades must have been in place prior. Hell if you knew. He should have been given a fresh change of clothes after being discharged and sent to this place. A proper bed, too, considering the only furniture in this barren place seemed to be a cot that could never hope to hold him.

If not for the swaying of his tail, you might even find yourself nervous, but he does well to try and look approachable, even greets you with a thickly accented tongue beneath that hood. A simple, “Hallo.”

“I’ve adopted you,” you explain, and it sounds ridiculous. You can’t just adopt a full-grown man. Maybe a puppy or some hybrid child, never a man better suited for a gladiator pit than a home. “I mean that… if you want to come home with me, you can.”

He gives you a huff, a burst of breath that pushes the hood out from his face and a near imperceptible roll of his eyes as a step is taken toward you. It must sound stupid, even to him, but the wiry tail at his back does not cease its wagging. No matter how stern the glimpses of his face seem to look and how alarming his size may be, he’s nothing but an eager pup it seemed.

“Richtig… Then let’s go.”

Life with your big soldier turns out to be remarkably easy.

The first few weeks are dedicated to stoking up some sort of bond and rationing out chores. Simple tasks to see how he adapts, and small rewards in the form of pets along the velvety fur of his ears and scratches beneath his chin. The walks with you seem to be his favorite and tend to be long, but he remains right at your side the entire way. The only barking to be heard comes from nosy passersby that warn you to keep your beast on a leash, but you let him be reasoning that it wouldn’t do you any good at all. Your strength was that of a tiny rabbit’s by comparison.

König is clean enough from his prior military training and does as you ask without complaint. Even things you don’t request, such as your laundry are taken care of before you ever even return from work. He’s overbearing on those evenings, when you’ve been apart and he sates himself drunk on the scent of your perfume still clinging to the collar of an old sweater. Excitable and sweet, though, when he curls at your side while some movie plays on the television screen.

It amazes you how easily he’s shifted from stiff to adoring in a matter of days, but it’s rare to have a moment to yourself now. The hybrid is insistent on pulling you up into his lap when you’re curled on the couch, or rushing behind to hoist you up and pin you between an expanse of chest and the kitchen counter with drooly licks against the side of your neck and cheek. Biting, too. You try your best to bully that out of him, flicking at his ears or shoving against his face, but there’s always a mark left behind.

When a coworker gives you a mischievous grin and asks if there’s a new man in your life at the sight of a purplish bruise against your throat, that is when you decide that a collar may actually be nice. Weave your fingers between leather and skin and give König a sharp tug when he gets too rowdy, maybe that would teach him. Spray bottles and warnings spoken through giggles just aren’t enough.

You find one that you think might fit at a shop specializing in hybrid needs. It’s thick and well-made, a black leather hold to match that big scary demeanor that he tries his best to uphold. The cutesy silver bell attached to it is just a bonus. At least you would hear him coming the next time he insisted on peppering you in kisses with his tail a blur behind him.

He greets you at the door as always, unlocks it for you and pulls it open before you ever even make it to the top of the landing. It’s cute how giddy he seems each day when you return, how he doesn’t hesitate to walk right up to you with his hands at his sides, his own silent request for a hug or some form of affection whilst staring down at you and mumbling a “hallo” like the most awkward gentleman in the entire world.

“I got you a present,” you excitedly tell him instead of blessing him with your usual embrace, lifting up the little gift bag with a smile.

When the collar is retrieved from the bag by a massive hand, König does not mirror your enthusiasm. Any light in the placid blue of his eyes seems to extinguish, smothered and fizzled out to pave way for a look of the purest disdain. He rolls the leather between both palms, only then regarding you with as a heavy sigh stirs up from his chest to whistle past the open mouth beneath the hood.

Maybe he would have preferred something with spikes. Something heavy and intimidating with a tag that read “FUCK YOU” in red, painted letters.

“I don’t wear collars,” he finally says, flatly.

Or maybe a muzzle would have been best…

“You do now, big guy,” you challenge with an airy laugh, slipping past him to cross into your home. Tidy as ever, he’s been working today it seemed. The bulb in the living room has been replaced, a few pieces of furniture rearranged. It all just looks… cozy. More habitable now that someone else lives here too.

König follows you inside with his head lowered and tail pushed between his thighs. The collar rests in one hand, fingers curled over it so tightly it almost seemed he wished the damned thing to dissipate into dust.

“Nein. I won’t wear it.” The door is locked behind him. It’s the first time he’s refused you anything. Even cleaning up around the kitchen wasn’t met with a rejection. It’s odd, almost uncharacteristic for him.

“I just thought…” You would want to be mine. Properly. With a nice symbol of it right around his neck, with a sturdy leash to lead him by, with…

Any thought in your head puffs into a plume of smoke back there behind your eyes when you feel two hands grasp at your shoulders, push you back towards the wall to hold you there. Hugging, lifting, cuddling up against, even licking… those things were commonplace. This was foreign and surprisingly rough; there’s no give to his hold, no room to even try to move away as his head lowers to stare you straight in the eyes.

“I killed my last handler.”

“Did you…?”

“Ja.”

That confession should have sent icy dread to the pit of your stomach, should have spurred you to claw and kick and bite. Surely the shelter would have known, could have warned you too. That would have spared you from looking like a terrified little rabbit now, yet a part of you knew it wouldn’t have changed a thing. König sort of… belonged here, as if written in some silly reading of the stars.

His ears flatten against his skull, large hands trembling where they hold you in place. The dam begins to crack as his eyes grow glassy, gaze far away in a concoction of pain and contemplation. He stares through you, not at, reliving something you dared not ask for an explanation for. The whys and hows die on your tongue.

And there’s nothing scary about him anymore.

There’s only a wounded soldier here.

A good boy.

Your hands rise to flip up the hood, rest it over the top of his head to cup his jaw in your palms, stroking over his cheeks with both thumbs to soothe and comfort. His unwinding comes immediate, hands slipping down to your lower back to pull you in closer.

You don’t apologize and neither does he. Everything just falls back into a comfortable lull, some fuzzy droning from both sides as you wish one another good night. He walks you to your bedroom door, the very best he can do to prove that he’s not some mutt with froth coming from his jaw. You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from encouraging that he sleep next to you.

“You’re a good boy, you know that?,” you tell him as you lean against the door in preparation to push it closed. “The very best there is.”

He doesn’t respond, but the tail behind him wags at a frantic pace from those words alone.

The following morning is different.

There’s food on the table and coffee already brewing by the time you cross from your room into the kitchen. The air bears the scent of sandalwood and geranium, a forgotten candle sat burning on the countertop. You eat your breakfast of too-sweet pancakes and prep your coffee to go all while the shower runs from somewhere down the hallway.

He usually waits, tells you goodbye before you’re off to work, bites at your neck and asks which will be better: a movie after dinner or some fresh air. Instead, there’s a note attached to the door. Something simple and mischievous, a scribbled, lopsided heart and some phrase in German written with handwriting so sloppy that there was no hope of your still sleep-addled mind translating it.

You chalk it up to him being fully adjusted in this new space, let him go about his business while you go about yours.

It would be a walk tonight.

Arriving home twists what is simply different into the realm of bizarre. No hugging by the door, it sits closed and untouched since you left this morning. You inhale something heavy, trepidation or maybe a bit of yearning there, while you fumble with your key in the lock. A click, a push, and then everything just changes. There’s no crashing and burning, only a very firm and insistent buzzing that rises to your chest, because the sight inside is just…

König.

Your König.

The hood has been discarded and set aside on the polished wood of a nearby table, the little bell collar sits right along his throat. It jingles when his ears perk and his tail begins that gentle sway, swishing with every step that you take into the apartment, rampant and unyielding when the sparkles in your eyes cluster like the tiniest, most insignificant stars.

No apologies, but this was something better.

“Gut?,” he asks you, kneels before you with the cutest stare that you’ve ever seen on a man. Constellations sit there waiting to be mapped, and your giant puppy waits for just a little praise.

You stroke his ears first, then dip your head to press a kiss to his cheek.

“The best boy,” you tell him.

“I have a present for you too.”

No protest comes when he herds you out of the door, still in your stiff uniform with your hair a mess. The sun begins its setting out on the horizon, bathing the world in purple and gold. Trees with spring blossoms and wildflowers all abloom tinge the air in something sweet. It’s not your usual trail, and König doesn’t walk at your side this time, only ahead. You watch him fondly as he grazes his fingertips against the blooms hanging from branches just overhead, how he shies away from the curious nesting birds in bushes as to not startle them.

It isn’t the usual trail, but he walks it with confidence. There are no people out so late in the day, and apart from the occasional quip between the both of you, the setting only bears the sound of the chiming of his bell and a few night birds beginning to call. Peace morphs to something greater when the sun tucks itself away and sets the stage for a bright, waning moon. There’s a small clearing, a meadow cut straight through by the dirt path you walk, and only then are you pulled aside.

“Here,” he huffs against your chest when your back meets soft grass and a hazy, spring sky is painted out above you.

Maybe you’re not the best with men, but there have been signs.

So many in abundance that the pitiful squeak that leaves you when his nose finds its way up your skirt is only an embarrassment. König must have found it charming, reaches for both of your hands as he laps at your sex through the thin lace of your panties until your body grows tense and your nails leave little crescents on the backs of his hands.

The words don’t come, they don’t have to when he speaks them for you, little whispers and coos into your hair when any barrier between you is discarded with the descent of a zipper and the sound of tearing lace. There’s an outpouring of thanks in the form of a tiny, fragile, “I missed you.”

The night birds calling washes out each sound that escapes from either of you then, only outdone by the symphony of impact when König loses himself entirely to you. Limbs curling around narrow hips and a broad back, pools of blue so shimmery and pretty they outdo even the moon hanging above locked onto you. He doesn’t look away even as you try to bury your face into the width of his shoulder, only then guides you back down with a gentle hand and a muffled, needywhine.

“Good boy,” comes as a mere peep when he fully sheaths himself and laps at the corner of your mouth as you speak. The praise only causes him to still, pries the words from his panting mouth and reduces them to a series of pleasured, stuttering groans.

“What did the note say?,” you ask him in the silence that comes comfortable once the act is done, nestled into a pair of strong arms with a cheek pressed against an expanse of chest.

“Oh.” König laughs breathily, coming down from the height of both love and need.

“That you found home?,” you ask when he pets at your hair, twirls strands between his fingertips. “Because I think that I may have, too…”

“Something like that.” He shrugs, loosens his grip around your body for a mere second before pulling you in closer, tighter to him, as if letting go would end the world entirely. “Heaven.”

[banananutmuffin28]

can I request for Se-mi x fem reader where the reader is one of the pink triangle guards? Where she protects Se-mi and helped her get out of the game by betraying the other guards.

First ever ask!! Ofc ofc :D

Player Se-Mi x FEM! Guard Reader

Warnings: None.

A/N: Well…this became a lot longer than I anticipated! I hope you all enjoy!

Life has always been cruel to you.

And, you supposed you have been cruel back.

Your parents never cared about you, letting you wander the streets alone until you one day got lost.

You still remembered what happened, even though it transpired years ago.

It was dark out, and in the alleyway where you stood, not even the city lights could really dispel the darkness around you. 

Of course, like any child your age you were scared. Your hands had trembled, your lips curled into a sob, hoping that maybe just this once, your parents finally cared enough to rescue you.

But, that never happened, now had it?

You never were a stupid child; you were intimately aware of what horrors could unfold in this world -but you had never really, truly seen it happen firsthand.

Of course, that changed.

There was a clatter of metal against the dirtied cement, a scream, and then before you knew it you were face to face with a sad sod of a man. 

Though you barely remembered his words, you would always recall his hands-large and meaty-sinking deep into your delicate shoulders as he shook you with the desperation only a man in his final seconds of life could conjure. He was begging you to...save him, but from what you still hadn't known.

But before you could move, scream, or do anything of the sort, you heard a bang. Skin and flesh alike flew from his forehead, and his eyes rolled back to his skull as he suddenly slumped before you, coating your body with his blood.

And then, the man's limp body was pulled back, and as you cowered there in the dirt, you finally saw the face of the killer.

As he would later admit, he was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

The man readied his gun...but couldn't bring himself to shoot a child.

And so, instead, he gently ushered you to a black van parked by the side of the road, tied a blindfold over your eyes, and took you to the games.

He pleaded and begged the Front Man to let a child stay with him, arguing that you had no one left. And, in a way, you supposed that was true.

Eventually, the Front Man had agreed, and you would spend your formative years living with the man who saved you.

It was...certainly a sight to behold, watching a child roam the halls that, just hours ago, were soaked in blood.

And, when you were of age, you were granted a mask and an outfit. It was a triangle mask, just like the one of the man who saved you. 

In another life, perhaps you would’ve been happy, ridding the world of the trash with you and the man who had saved you.

But again, life struck, and this time it took away him too.

Apparently, he had spared a contestant he was meant to kill.

And, just like that, it was as if your world had crumbled all over again. At first, you were in denial. That man, whom you had grown to love as a father, was a ruthless killer. Surely they had misunderstood the situation? Surely, it was only a matter of time before he would've killed the player?

But, you soon learned that life had no time for your pondering. You would have to move on forward.

Your loss had...changed you. Soon, you would be known as one of the coldest of killers. You would spare no one, and relished in the panicked screams of the players.

After all, these vermin weren't human, right? And, those worms were what took your adoptive father away from you.

Not once did you ever question this sentiment. Sure, sometimes you felt fleeting sympathy, but that had never been enough to stop you from pulling the trigger.

You were a robot. You were ruthless.

But then, you met her.

The first time you two had locked eyes was outside of the games.

You were in a convenience store, buying some snacks and a drink for yourself. Hell, you were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't even realized it was your turn to pay until she cleared her throat.

"Hey, are you gonna pay or are you content with keeping your head above the clouds?"

Her voice was...soothing. It wasn't gentle by any means, but something about it stirred something in your heart.

You scrambled back, nearly knocking over the bag of makeup items behind you.

You turned to her, cheeks flushed, trying to regain some ounce of dignity, but it was to no avail. People never talked like that to you anymore; they were either too fearful or simply thought you weren't worth their time.

She tilted her head, lips curling into a grin as she leaned onto the table.

"So...are you going to pay or what?"

You only nodded, too fearful that if you spoke you would sound like a diseased frog. Without even looking back, you slammed the necessary payment onto the counter and hurried out the door.

The girl was only wearing a standard employee uniform.

So how did she look so damn pretty?

Despite that lackluster first meet, though, you had always come back. When you had entered the shop the next day, her eyebrows had furrowed in surprise and a grin danced across her lips.

She set aside the plastic cup she was holding and made her way to the register.

“I hope you don’t run off staring at clouds again,” She drawled, running a hand along the buttons of the register. “What can I get for you today, beautiful?”

How your ice cold heart didn’t explode at that very second was beyond you.

The days passed into weeks and soon, you found yourself visiting the store—her—every other day.

Eventually, you learned her name to be Se-Mi.

Se-Mi, Se-Mi, Se-Mi.

Her name dripped from your lips like the smoothest of honey.

You loved her piercings, her posture, and that damned smirk she always had.

She was so kind to you. You savored the quiet nights you'd spend with her out in the park, and whispered her name into your pillow before you slept.

Se-Mi had big, big dreams. Dreams of becoming a rockstar. Dreams of becoming a mechanic. Dreams of surviving this cruel world and making it out on top.

But, despite it all, you always kept her at an arm's length apart. After all, it was almost time for the games to begin. Soon, you would have to leave her to kill once again.

So, on the night before the first game would start, you left her a note on the convenience table where you two first met. You wrote of how you had to go, for your work was grueling and demanding, and you couldn't have her be caught in the crossfire.

You apologized for not meeting in person.

You never said goodbye. You couldn't. She needed to think of you as merely a fleeting presence, lest she catches feelings and finds out you're a killer.

You had planned on shooting your sorrows away.

So, imagine your surprise when you saw her wake up in the games.

Her? No, no, no, she couldn't be one of those disgusting vermin that plagued the streets. Se-Mi was so kind, so brave and headstrong.

She wasn't exactly well-off, but she couldn't have been struggling that much!

Surely, this was a mistake!

But, when you ran to the Front Man and asked him, he simply pulled out her file and handed it to you.

 It was not a mistake. In fact, SeMi was drowning in debt.

"I trust this won't be a problem to you?" He asked, leaning back into his plush chair as he swirled the liquor in his cup.

You swallowed.

"Of course not, sir."

The Front Man stood still for a moment, then sighed. 

“If you were anyone else, I would shoot you because clearly, this is a conflict of interest and we need to keep these games fair,” He finally said at last, shaking his head. “But…you have more than proved yourself to be loyal to us, to me. I trust you won’t abuse it?”

Your heart stopped when you felt his icy eyes on you. When you nodded, he smiled.

“Good, good. After all, I would hate to see you befall the same fate as 097.”

The Front Man motioned for you to leave.

“Do not fail me. 098.”

—

As you left the room, you could feel your heart racing. All of a sudden, it was so much harder to breathe, to walk.

A whirlwind of thoughts raced in your mind, though one drowned out the rest.

You wouldn't be kind to her. Your brief time with her meant nothing; after all, she wasn't human.

Right?

When you stepped into the area of the First Game, you could barely keep yourself upright. Your hands trembled, immediately flying to your face to make sure that your mask was still on. Your legs nearly buckled when you watched as Se-Mi enter the Red Light Green Light

The gun felt ten times heavier in your hands.

During the duration of the game, you would not shoot her.

Of course, you tried to tell yourself that you weren't giving her special treatment! 

Everyone trembled in the games; if you shot everyone who shook slightly there would be no one left to inherit the prize! You were still impassive, it was still equal.

You didn't care about her. You never had.

But...like most lies people tell themselves, it came apart in the quiet of the night. Your fear for her echoed in every beat of your heart, in every gasping breath you took. You saw her lifeless body in the shadows, watched as bullets tore themselves into her skin and blood ran down her wounds.

Se-Mi, Se-Mi, Se-Mi. You couldn't let her die.

When the second game commenced, you could hardly suppress your nervousness as you watched her play Flying Stone.

It was a difficult game, after all.

And oh, when she passed through the finish line, you couldn't help but throw your hands in the air-much to the chagrin of your co-guards.

They stared at you questioningly, causing terror to sift in your heart.

During the third game, your eyes had met.

It was only for a split second, but feeling her gaze on you made you feel so...exposed. 

Your cheeks grew hot and your hands felt slippery.

You loathed how she looked at you, like you were some sort of monster.

Though, you supposed she wasn't quite wrong.

When you watched as Player 230 and his lackey dragged another man away, leaving Se-Mi alone, it felt as if your heart was breaking. It took every willpower in your body not to shoot them on the spot for doing such a thing.

Though, that willpower still wasn't enough for you not to intervene in some way.

After making sure none of the guards were watching, you waved at her in the shadows. When her attention turned to you, you acted. Frantically, you pointed towards a trembling duo in the far right corner of the carousel. 

The clock read ten seconds. If Se-Mi rushed, she could make it in time.

And, she did.

As you watched the door clamp shut behind her, a whirlwind of emotions appeared in your gut. What you just did couldn’t be chalked up to strictly following the rules.

You had helped her. You had tilted the odds to your favor by alerting her to safety. You had done the very thing the Front Man had warned you not to do.

So, why was it that you could barely summon any regret?

After Mingle had ended, you turned to leave, but stopped when you noticed Se-Mi trailing after you. Her arms were crossed together, and she chewed her bottom lip. 

And then, she gave you the tiniest of nods. 

Thank you, she mouthed.

You felt like your heart was exploding all over again.

For a brief moment, you thought that what you were doing was enough. You could oversee the games, and remain relatively impassive until Se-Mi was in danger, in which you could then give her a gentle nudge.

But then you remembered the next game.

The Special Game.

This time, instead of automated machinery, it was forks and fists. Instead of children’s games, it was pure, human violence. Instead of the threat of a bullet piercing through their skull, the only thing that would keep them going was their raw, unbridled rage for wanting to survive. Revenge would be enacted, and rivalries settled.

You couldn’t leave Se-Mi alone. There were too many unknown variables. Se-Mi never held back her tongue—it was one of the things you loved about her, in fact—but tonight it might also be what kills her.

Again, that terrible image of Se-Mi’s bloodied corpse popped into your mind. If she died, it would be all your fault because you let it happen. 

Fear flooded your veins. 

You won’t let that happen. You couldn’t lose someone else in this damned world. You couldn’t lose her.

That night, as the lights dimmed and the last of players were ushered from the bloodied bathrooms, you stared at the camera glued to the ceiling of your room. You knew someone was watching you on the other side, waiting.

Instinctively, you draped a blanket over your hands.

You couldn’t let them see how much they trembled.

Before you had meant Se-Mi, you never really cared about the camera in your walls. Sure, the lack of privacy was annoying, but in your mind, it also served as evidence to the higher ups that you were completely and utterly loyal to them.

In a way, they had saved you, after all.

But now? 

The way the camera was angled—tilted so that it could observe every inch of your room—made your skin crawl.

Suddenly, it seemed as if the air was being choked out of your lungs. Obsessively, you grabbed your mask and held it up your face.

If you ran into the room and protected Se-Mi, you wouldn’t get another chance. The entire organization would be after you—he would be after you.

Were you really willing to betray everything you’ve known for a girl you’ve only known for months?

But then, you remembered the time you spent with her. You remember those starry nights, those quiet evenings, and those chaotic days that had you sweating with a stupid grin on your face.

Se-Mi made you feel alive. With her, you were no longer a robot, but a person, free laugh and giggle whenever you’d want without fear of losing face or risking a punishment.

It was then that intercom rang, its cheery tone a stark contrast to the indecision and uncertainty that broiled in your gut.

“Soldiers, please get ready,” It sang.

You let out a sigh and stood up, eyes trained to camera, to the Front Man.

Your decision was made.

—

 The stomps of the other guards echoed across the corridors. You stood motionless, a gun in hand, as you pressed your hands against the cold concrete walls hiding you.

Soon, they would realize your absence and a search would be dispatched. But, for now, you were invisible.

Quietly, you slinked to a shadowy corner of the room. When you heard footsteps approaching, you ducked down and readied your gun.

Within moments, you saw the growing shadow of the manager. You crouched down, waiting for him to turn, then—

Without giving your doubt any time to fester, you leaped out of the shadows and pressed the gun to his head. Before he could shout, you shoved him against a wall and pulled out the pistol from his hoister.

“Move, and you die,” You snarl.

You watched as the man stammered, recognizing the tell-tale sign of fear alighting in his eyes through the mask.

“Y-you! What are you—“

You clamped his mouth shut.

“Shut up and take me to the players.”

The man trembled in your hands and a choked gasp escaped his lips. But, with another nudge of your gun, you got him to move.

When he started marching to the double decked doors, you smacked his back.

“Not there,” You whisper, grabbing his collar. “Take me through the tunnels.”

The man stiffened. His lips twisted into a question, then froze.

He nodded, and began walking the opposite direction. 

From your adolescent years spent in the games, you had picked up upon your share of rumors. You heard of soldiers purposefully missing to harvest the organs of the eliminated, and you heard that there was a secret escape hatch hidden somewhere among the concrete walls.

But, what had drawn your attention the most, was the rumor that there was another way to enter the main lobby where the players slept.

A young, curious you had traversed through the halls and found that very corridor, though you soon realized that only a manager’s mask could open the door.

Now, an older and more jaded you stood in front of the same very doors, caressing the steel barrier with a new sense of urgency.

You had to move. Fast.

Already, you were hearing the beginnings of a brawl: A thump here, a curse there.  

If you wanted any chance of saving Se-Mi, you had to act now. 

Quickly, you shoved the man in front of the motion sensors and gestured for him to gaze into the center. It whirred softly, and then—

“Identity confirmed. Access granted.”

Letting out a shaky sigh, you knocked the manager out, and then ran into the tunnels. It was dimly lit, but you didn’t care.

The screams of fighting and flesh tearing bounced across the walls. At another time, you wouldn’t have cared, but right now, the sound terrified you to the bone 

Soon, you saw a regular wooden door and immediately twisted the doorknob. 

Immediately, you were met with the sight of utter brutality. Corpses littered the floors and blood soaked the survivors. Some screamed at the sight of you while others fell back, eyes trained on the gun in your hands.

“Where’s Se-“ You cut yourself off with a cough. “Where's Player 380?”

The woman closest to you fell to the floor. 

“Do…do you mean Se-Mi?”

Before you could respond, you sensed footsteps approaching behind you. Without skipping a beat, you turned and coldly shot the two men creeping behind you.

They fell to the floor with a thud.

Then, you turned back and nodded. 

The woman stared at you, more frazzled than ever. Instinctively, she stepped back. 

“I…she should be over there,” She murmured, pointing to a corned of the room.

You nodded. 

“Thank you.”

As you ran, you tried to ignore the surprised shouts and gasps from the other players. Most fell back when you aimed your gun at them, but some looked at you curiously.

You glanced back at the double doors, and cursed.

The cameras had no doubt exposed your location to the others. Already, guards were pouring in, guns at the ready.

You were running on borrowed time. 

You rounded a corner and stayed near the shadows. Then, you heard a piercing scream that belonged to Se-Mi.

Gasping, you bolted towards the voice. There, you saw a man shoving her against the wall, sinking something into her neck.

You didn’t stop to think about it. You shot him in an instant.

Se-Mi fell to the floor, gasping for breath.

Blood was still flowing freely from the glass shard that lay pierced in her jugular. 

Fuck, you would have to take care of that later.

You looked back. The gunshot had alerted the other guards, who were now running to you, screaming.

Running in raw adrenaline, you hoisted an injured Se-Mi into your arms and zig zagged across the pillars holding the bunk beds. Bullets flew by you and one grazed your shoulder. 

You bit your lip, but didn’t make a noise.

“What are you doing?” Se-Mi demanded, fear lacing the edges of your tone. Her arms wrapped around your neck, angling her head in a way that rested against your shoulders. 

You stiffened. 

“I can’t let them hurt you.”

The second you whispered the words, you saw recognition flash in her eyes.

The beginning of your name was being murmured from Se-Mi, almost questionably, but the sound of footsteps approaching.

Cursing, you hid behind a pillar, and when their attention was drawn elsewhere you dashed to the corridor from where you entered.

The two of you were still breathing heavily when you set her down in the middle of the tunnel. You had locked the door, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they found you and broke in.

Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “A…are you hurt anywhere, Se-Mi?”

She stood there for a moment, rubbing her hands together. Her lip piercing glinted in the dull light, and for a few seconds you were enchanted by her. Blood clung onto her tracker, and you knew she hadn’t showered in days, but that still didn’t stop your heart from fluttering.

And then, she laughed.

Startled, you stepped back. 

“Am I hurt?” She wheezed, and you immediately cringed at your question. “Of course I’m fucking hurt. I have this bitch of a wound on my jugular and I’m covered with cuts. Everything hurts like hell!”

Despite yourself, a blush raged on your cheeks.

“I-I, okay, that was a stupid question-“

“Terrible, even,” She chimed in, the faintest of smirks curling at the edges of her lips. 

You nodded, “Yes, terrible and dumb but-“ 

You gestured towards her legs. “Are there any that would hinder you from running?”

Se-Mi frowned. 

“No, not really.”

You blew out a breath.

“Good, because if we want to escape this place we need to be able to move. Fast.” 

Gently, you helped pry the shard from her neck. It had stopped bleeding now, but it wouldn’t take much to reopen the wound.

“We have to get going, now,” You muttered, and started marching towards the other end of the hall.

“Wait,” Se-Mi hissed, tugging you back. Her voice was softer now, but still held conviction. “Aren’t you going to…explain yourself?”

You stopped, dread pooling in your gut.

When you turned to look at her, you couldn’t meet her gaze.

“I…fuck,” You glanced at the door, fearful that it would break open at any moment. “Se-Mi, we should do this later.”

You swallowed.

“I promise that when we get out of here, I’ll come clean and explain everything. But, right now we need to hurry and run while they still can’t find us.”

Se-Mi stepped closer. She laced your fingers together and flicked your mask.

“Can you still take this off,” She murmured, tugging you closer. “I want to see you. Not some…pink clown trying to cosplay the Nintendo loading screen.”

You let out a snort. “Pink clowns? I’m rather offended.”

Se-Mi smiled coyly. “Don’t spit on your luck, honey, that was my nicest of comparisons. And besides.”

She paused, her face growing softer. “I want to see you. I…I missed your face.”

That blush on your cheeks was now a raging inferno.

 But, before you could reply, she added quickly, “Getting that letter really hurt my feelings, you know? I need to see your face again to make it easier for me to imagine giving you a nice, clean punch after all you did.”

You bowed your head. Despite the mirth, you could sense genuine pain hiding underneath. You knew you had a lot to make up for.

“I…understand.”

Tenderly, you unclasped your mask. Then, you slid down the jet black face covering, revealing your face to her.

Se-Mi gasped softly.

“It really is you,” She whispered.

Se-Mi cupped your face carefully, as if she was worried you were merely an illusion in her mind. You leaned into her touch, humming.

And then you felt soft lips on your own.

A gasp left your lips at the sudden contact, but then she kissed you again and suddenly all your thoughts vanished.

Roughly, she pinned you against the wall and laced your fingers with hers. The noise that left your lips was embarrassing. 

When she finally pulled away, you were gasping for air. Your cheeks were blazing, and you were sure even the tips of your ears and neck were tinted with pink.

Se-Mi smirked at you, and pulled you by the collar. Just then, you heard pounding on the walls.

“You sure have a lot to make up for me once we’re safe,” She cooed. “Put your mask back on and lead the way, beautiful.”

You nodded dumbly, and started running.

A/N: Oh my God. I still can’t believe this ask grew so much, haha! If you guys want a part 2, please do not hesitate to let me know! I hope you liked it!

[magicpiano]

DCXDP demon twins AU where they were separated at birth and don't know about each other. (Maybe Talia wanted to protect at least one of them from life in the league and thought adoption was the best choice? Or something. Doesn't matter.)

Anyway, while on her world tour Dani meets Robin. Naturally Damian thinks she is another clone and either straight up attacks her, is very rude, or both even. Dani isn't ashamed of being a clone, so she readily admits to it when asked directly.

Dani already has a poor opinion on heroes in general, after all what have they done to protect amity park or ghosts from the GIW? Robin being so rude and violent to her when she was just vibing and being friendly? And none of these so called heroes even defending her? Her already low opinion goes into the negatives.

So Dani naturally thinks the justice league, and the bats in particular, are just bigots who hate ghosts and clones. So yeah she wants nothing to do with any of them. But this interaction is enough to make everyone else want to know more about her.

The bats start watching her and it becomes quickly clear that she is nothing like the other clones they have dealt with. Besides the powers (the league is doing science experiments with the pit and clones??? More info needed.) she has a lot of personality and individuality.

She is also a girl, which is odd for a clone of Damian. They come to the conclusion that she is trans. (Whether she is or not is up to you but the bats believe it.) As being trans requires a certain amount of knowledge of yourself and your identity, this just makes them more sure that she is not like the previous clones and shouldn't be treated as such.

She also kind of became a minor hero by accident. It is just if she see something bad happening on her travels and she knows she can help, she does. She never stays anywhere very long, especially if she used her powers, so it is not like she is that famous or anything. But this is how the bats are following her. (This is also how the GIW are following her.)

Anyway the bats decide they need to adopt her of course. She is all on her own! She needs a family! A network of people she can count on! And besides the league is surely searching for their lost powerful clone, so she is in danger. Unfortunately, again, Dani doesn't like any of them and absolutely does not want to join their family.

Identity and miscommunication chaos ensues featuring:

Damian Does Not Trust Her. Look he has so very legitimate trauma around clones, so he is sure this is just a trick. A elaborate ploy because the previous clones didn't succeed. He refuses to let his guard down. While understandable, this does not make it easy for the bats to convince Dani that they don't have anything against clones or metas (which they think she is).

Tim ends up being the only one she will talk to. He doesn't have issues with clones at all really. As a matter of fact he is pretty pro clone. Dani is hesitant around him at first, but when he tells her that Damian also tried to kill him and that they don't get along that well, she opens up. She really starts to like him when he introduces her to Connor, another clone. They start to get along great and Tim is thrilled to have a little sibling that hasn't tried to kill him.

Dick so badly wants to win the title of favorite sibling again but sorry, you lose, she likes Tim. Maybe she would be more friendly towards him if he wasn't so close to Damian, but as it is Dani really doesn't like Damian at all.

Jason is the only one to realize there is something... Dead... about her. Sure they connect her powers to the pit in some way, but they don't understand why Jason is so weird about her. He thinks he is going crazy but he can't help but be convinced that she is literally dead. She feels dead, she smells dead, sometimes when he looks at her from the corner of his eyes she even looks dead. Dani recognizes Jason as at least part ghost, and a bit separate from the rest of the bats, which makes him the only one she is even interested in talking to at first. He really does try to be friendly because he likes kids and feels bad for her, but she just really makes him uncomfortable and brings up memories that he would rather not recall. She recommends he see a ghost doctor. He is like, "what????"

The bats naturally assume that Dani knows their identities, after all the league knows and the other clones knew, why wouldn't she? But nope! She knows nothing about the Waynes. She has no idea why people keep bringing them up. This is also why she hasn't recognized Robin as being identical to Danny (and her). If she ever saw Damian without the mask she would likely assume he was also a clone of Danny.

Duke tries to be friendly towards her, but because of his powers she just looks really weird to him. He can't even properly describe it to the others but she just kind of creeps him out. (Let Dani have creepy little ghost girl energy). Again, Dani thinks this awkwardness is because he doesn't like her. The bats were really hoping Duke would be able to convince her that they don't mind that she has powers but it doesn't work out that well (at least at first).

Cass is thrilled about having a little sister. Little brothers are great but she has some already. Little sister is new and exciting! Admittedly, Dani freaks Cass out a bit too because she is one of the only people that have ever truly hidden from her before. (More than just invisibility, with intangibility and not needing to breathe or have a pulse, she can be truly silent if desired.)

Bruce wants to be a good dad so bad. Yeah he had not always succeed but he refuses to make the same mistakes that Clark made with Connor. He is so sure he can be a good dad to Dani. He tries to tell her that he doesn't care that she is a clone but she just thinks Batman is a fruitloop.

Batman is also a bit freaked out though because she is a seriously powerful heavy hitter and he has no idea how he could fight someone like her. Even more worryingly, how did the league make her? Are they going to make more?

Dani just doesn't understand why the bats won't leave her alone! She left Gotham! Why do they keep showing up wherever she is, including the other side of the planet!? At first she thinks they are hunting her down for the GIW, but they never bring out any ghost weapons so their goals are unclear. She doesn't love being stalked though.

At some point, Dani mentions changing her name (Dani is getting a bit confusing with Danny and she wants to have something a bit more original to her). The bats assume this is a trans thing again. Bruce, who has never gotten to name any of his children, is so excited about this and wants to brainstorm names with her as a bonding activity. She can't fathom why Batman cares about her new name but accepts the baby name book he gave her anyway.

Danny has no fucking clue about any of this. Sure Dani mentioned that she had a run in Robin and told him that Robin was a jerk who hated ghosts and clones, but that was really just a warning against approaching any heroes. She doesn't want to worry him with her new stalkers so she keeps it to herself. He is not happy when he finds out that she was in danger.

When the whole truth finally comes out? So much drama. Damian has a twin? Dani isn't even Damian's clone? Ghosts are real and being hunted by the government? And of course, the biggest plot twist as far as Dani is concerned: Batman is Bruce Wayne!?!? Crazy.

[solarmorrigan]

Underrated flavor of queer Steve: Steve who worries that he's faking it

After Robin's confession to him, he starts to view the way he looks at other guys--the way he's always looked at them--in a different light. The way he can see a guy and think 'yeah, he's hot' or even, 'yeah, I wouldn't mind getting with him.' He starts to think maybe that's kinda queer

But then he shakes the thought away, because everyone is able to pick out whether another person is attractive or not. His thoughts aren't different or special. Everyone must think that way, and Steve is only starting to view it as queer because Robin is queer and he wants to have more in common with her

He's always had a habit of doing that: chameleoning himself into a group, adopting enough of their mannerisms or interests to fit in. He'd almost lost himself to in high school, turning into an asshole for the sake of having friends who, in retrospect, hadn't even been very good to him

But now he has Robin - brilliant, funny, awkward, brave Robin, who is good to him and who also happens to be a lesbian, and Steve is doing it again, isn't he? Shifting himself just so he can fit in. Faking it to make it. But he's pretty sure pretending to be queer is kind of offensive, so he sits on the thought for months and months, sometimes pushing it down so hard that he feels sick with it, until it comes bubbling out around the cracks

Steve doesn't even mean to say it; he and Robin are hanging out, Star Wars playing on the TV more as background noise than anything, and Robin sighs over Carrie Fisher, and Steve sighs with her, and then mentions that he'd let Harrison Ford hit it, too, if he had the chance. And then it takes him a minute to understand why Robin is now staring at him, wide-eyed and almost startled

Neither of them really know much about the concept of bisexuality at that point, but they stumble through the conversation anyway, and Robin insists that, no, she's pretty sure not everyone looks at both men and women with equal appreciation and, "I don't think you can fake it, Steve. You can't do being queer wrong."

And for Steve - suddenly it clicks into place. A new piece of himself he'd been struggling to shove away, now acknowledged and welcomed. Something real and true and his, and something he happens to share with his best friend

And it feels good

[unorthodoxfaithxx]

Yandere Ghost Headcannons

Afab reader ; nsfw ; ghostly somnophilia 

He was orphaned at a young age, but adopted by a widow who eventually  passed away during his 20s. She left him with a hefty inheritance so he was well off for a while.

He eventually met the love of his life, your past reincarnation. Unfortunately for him, you were only using him for money and ended up burning him along with the house down in an attempt to take the life insurance money. You succeeded, leaving him nothing but a broken heart and a vengeful spirit.

The house the two of you lived in was eventually torn down and rebuilt. His ghost resided, watching apathetically as family after family moved in, only to run off when they realized the house was occupied with his spirit. He couldn’t move on because he had too many attachments to the world — namely, still being in love with you.

When you eventually move in with your cat, his heart stops. You’re back. You act a little different, but you’re still the woman he married. He falls in love all over again.

He watches you from both afar and up close. He loves to follow your every movements. When you sit in the reading room, he’s on the other chair eying you dreamily, enjoying the way you react to whatever is happening in your novels. He’s sometimes behind you, reading with you with every page you flip. He finds it cute the way your face scrunches up when you find a bug in the house. He can’t get rid of them, but he does his best to scare the bugs off so they scurries away. He thinks you’re very kind for taking in the stray cats in the neighborhood and feeding them in your backyard. He sits next to you on your back porch while you feed them. 

He loves the way you laugh when you watch a funny video on your phone. He laughs with you. He eyes you pitifully, wanting to lick the tears off your face when you cry after watching a sad movie. 

He thinks you’re fucking hot when you touch yourself in the shower. He’s there with you, too.

He wishes he could touch you, but he can’t. He’s just a ghost after all. At least, that’s what he thought until he finally made contact with your skin one night. He knelt over your sleeping form, wishing he could give you a kiss. Apparently wanting was all he needed, because when he bent over to kiss you, he was able to manifest a slight physical form and land a peck on your lips. 

The revelation makes him ecstatic. Soon, he can’t get enough of your skin. Every night he wills himself to form a physical manifestation, one that gets stronger, lingers longer with every attempt. At night, he would hold you in your sleep, admiring the way your beautiful body was draped over the sheets. 

But soon, just kisses aren’t enough. With physical form comes a carnal need for your body, your touch, your taste. He finds your used panties and masturbates to them, loving that he could feel pleasure for the first time in ages. He wants to share that feeling with you. So push comes to shove, and he develops a habit of groping you in your sleep, moving clothing aside to admire your naked body. He fingers you  while you lay there, listening with joy as you moan and quiver in your sleep. 

You’re so fucking adorable. 

He wishes you knew he existed. But he knows you’d be terrified of him. Who knows, maybe one day, you’ll see him for who he really is - not some ghost haunting your house, but the man who has always and never stopped loving you.

When he hears you on the phone with your friend, talking about a man you might be interested in, all hell breaks loose in his mind.

No one can love you like he can. No one cares about you like he does. No one knows you like he does . Your smiles are reserved for him And him alone.

He begins touching you more, every night even. You start to complain to your friends about something being amiss, but he doesn’t care. He needs you to know he loves you. He needs you to need him.

Just when he thinks he will never get through to you, you wake up on a night he manifests.

[mazamba]

Baby Steps

Dani slurped her milkshake noisily as she shifted back to the visible spectrum, interrupting the argument between the so-called adults. It'd been a hectic week, she'd been part of Young Justice for less than a week, yet they already had a crisis in the form of a maybe-evil clone.

"Do you mind?" growled Batman.

"Try a different word."

Superman raised an eyebrow.

""Father" is too heavy, try "brother" instead," she continued, "I mean, Phantom's technically my dad, but I don't call him that. He's my 'cuz!"

"What we call each other isn't the problem."

"No, but it's less scary isn't it? Danny was fifteen when I met him. Imagine if I'd called him dad. He'd have freaked out!"

Batman nodded, seeing the logic.

"And even then, I kinda needed some time to put my head together, you know?" she rattled on, floating crisscross applesauce in midair like a balloon in the breeze, "It's the real reason I left the first time. Maybe some time apart would be good for them? Microdose in family!"

"What we call each other isn't even half of the problem," sighed Superman, "you're a clone too, right? You once told me it was weird to know things you didn't remember learning. Clones are made and programed, sometimes with sleeper programming."

"True, but that's what we're here for," she figured, "I mean, I can't take you on, but Superboy's a different story. If he does go nuts, he has the whole Junior League to take care of him."

"I can't ask you to put yourself in danger."

"You're not, I'm volunteering," figured Stray, finally floating down to the ground, "look, Phantom and I work because we took the time to figure out who we are to each other. You two need time to figure out what you are, not get shoved together and hope for the best."

Batman grunted.

"This is a shock, it was a shock for Danny too. Sa- A mutual friend told me he had a panic attack an hour after I left. Started looking into childcare and stuff. She had to stop him from running after me with a diaper bag and they both crashed into a tree. Tu- a different friend sent me a picture."

"Your point?" sighed the Bat.

"I just said it? Forcing things helps no one. Just... put them in general proximity of each other and let the cards lay where they may. I know what you want to help Superboy, but forcing them into a get along shirt is just gonna hurt them both. You have to think of Superman too."

"And if he does go rogue?"

"Then we stop him."

"That easy?"

"That easy."

Superman sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, the whole situation was a lot less scary by simply changing the word. And what Stray said made sense, in a roundabout sort of way.

For his part, Batman was mentally kicking himself for hyper-focusing on Superboy's needs without taking Clark's feelings into consideration.

"We'll go with your plan," he agreed, "Superman, I'll need you to have a word with Black Canary. She will mediate with you and Superboy whenever you wish to meet, but I need you both to agree to this before we move forward."

"And if we can't?"

"Then he'll have to get adopted into somewhere else," figured Dani, sitting in midair again, "nothing good will happen if we just dump him on you. Neither one of you deserve what happened."

---

I'm sick of people dumping on Clark. Considering how he and the others live, I can't blame him for being suspicious.

Some other guy got replaced by a clone that didn't even know he was a clone. It wouldn't be that weird for Connor to have sleeper programming.

If anything, this is on Batman and the others for trying to force a relationship.

[yamumsyadadd]

change

Part of the Mariquita universe. Others can be found here:

mariquita , mami and mama, accident, different

Talks of adoption trauma, birth, anxiety. Little over 6k.

There was a weird energy around the apartment, it was hard for you to pinpoint exactly what it was. 

After the suspension from school and then removal and enrolment into the new school, you thought you’d be grounded. No tv, no iPad, no fun. But that wasn’t the case at all. Besides going shopping for a new school uniform, no one said anything about it. 

During Christmas dinner, your Abuela seemed to be stuck to you like glue. Whenever you went, she went. If you wanted a drink, she was up before you finished the sentence. Constantly filling your plate up with food to the point where you felt sick. When you finally got home, you asked your Mami about it. 

“Is abuela dying?” 

“Que? Why would you say that?” 

“She wouldn’t leave me alone. stuck to me like a baby.” At the word baby, both Olga and Alexia tensed. They were keeping a secret, a big secret that would change the way everything was. 

“I think she’s just sad you’re growing up. You used to be so little and cute.” Your Mami pinched your cheeks affectionately. 

“Maybe you should have another baby so she can annoy it.” The air in the room changed again, but you were either blissfully unaware or just didn’t care. 

“Right, it’s late, you should go to sleep. We have a busy few days!” Your Mami all but shoved you down the hallway. Turning back to Olga and waiting until the cost was clear, “this is going to be harder then I thought.” 

“we could just tell her amor. I think she’ll be happy.” 

“A few more days okay? We’ll go away, just the three of us, spend some quality time together and then we can tell her in the new year.” 

The break between Christmas and new year, have your family some much needed rest. La Molina ski resort was only two hours from Barcelona. It was far enough away to feel like a proper holiday but close enough that if needed, your family could return quickly. 

The hotel room was big enough to fit you, your Mami, abuela and tia alba if they were invited. There were two beds in your room, secretly deciding to sleep in both just because you could. 

Neither your Mami or Olga joined you for skiing, which wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, the last time you went to the snow, only Olga joined and she wasn’t very good so since then she has watched. Ice skating however, that’s something you’d do, the three of you, at the Christmas markets in Mollet, sometimes tia alba would join but she was even worse at ice skating then Olga was at skiing. 

You were sent to join the kids club for a few hours while Olga and your Mami relax, alexia insisted, stating it would be good for you to make new friends, as if you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the school year making new friends. 

Skiing was fun, freeing. You suppose it’s how your Mami nd mama feel when they play football or how Olga feels when she’s on a plane to a different city. You like skiing, more than you’ve ever liked football, but it was a winter sport and it’s didn’t usually snow cold to Barcelona so it’s just a holiday sport to you. 

For a few hours you were gone, Mami and Olga were relaxing, brain storming ideas on how to tell you the big news. Well, the two big events that were going to be happening. They decided that after lunch was the best time to do so. 

“Marquita, we need to talk to you about something.” It was Olga who spoke, wiping her hands on the paper towel. 

“Am I in trouble?”

“No Bebé! Not at all. We are moving.”

“What? Where?” 

“Sant Just Desvern. Into a house, one with more bedrooms, a backyard. Closer to your new school and to the Joan.” 

“Oh. Am I, am I coming too?” If alexia wasn’t so wrapped up in all the big changes that were about to happen she would’ve realised the extent of the question. 

“OF course you are Mari! You get first pick on what bedroom you want, and we will go shopping for however you want to decorate it.” 

It went silent after that. There was still  trauma and anxiety about what happened to you before alexia and Jenni adopted you. Sometimes, it would creep up. Usually you did a good job of communicating it, either with your Mami and mama or with Tia Maria or Alba, even abuela. But this felt too big, too scary. 

For the last eight years, that apartment had been your home. It’s where Alexia and Jenni bought you home too, it’s where Nala lived, where mama lived and now, now you were moving into a new house that Nala never lived in and Mama wouldn’t be. 

The next three days flew by, you do more skiing, ice skating, sledding, all alone. You didn’t know the reason behind your Mami not letting Olga join, you knew your Mami wouldn’t go ice skating but she did join the sledding. If either woman had slowed down they would’ve realised that you were pulling away. 

When you arrived back to Barcelona on New Year’s Eve, your Mami told you there would be another present for you to open with your abuela and tia. You were slightly confused, having already gotten everything on your Wishlist. So as you sat there on the couch, your abuela and tia next to you, Olga and your Mami in front with three boxes on your laps, you were still confused as to what it could be. 

You opened it when they said you could, inside the box it contained 3 things. A photo of an ultrasound (which you didn’t understand), a baby jersey with ‘Putellas 11’ on the back and a shirt that said ‘world’s best big sister’. But you completely missed the shirt. Your Mami had put the shirt in the box the wrong way around.

It took a moment for everything to understand and then the chaos unfolded. Abuela and tia alba were crying, hugging both Olga and your Mami while you just sat there. 

“Mariquita? Do you understand?” Your Mami asked as she sat in front of you. 

In your mind, the blob was cancer, the jersey was confusing though. “Olga has cancer? Why are we celebrating that? How will I be a big sister if Olga has-“ it clicked in your brain, the blob wasn’t cancer it was a baby, “oh. Not cancer, a baby.” 

“Yes a baby.” Your Mami chuckled, “we are having a baby and you’ll be a big sister.” 

“Cool.” You gave a thumbs up towards Olga, unsure of what else to do. 

“Cool? That’s it?” 

“What else am I meant to say? Good luck?” 

“Jeez ale, she really is your daughter.” Alba laughed, ruffling your hair. It was no secret alexia was awkward and it seems you truly inherited that trait. 

Both Olga and alexia sat down on the couch next to you, Eli snapping a photo of the three of you. Your mind was full of anxiety. Anxiety about moving house, about the new school and needing to make new friends but mostly about the baby. 

As you lay in bed, the clock on your bedside table illuminating 3.13am, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling. The last time a baby was on the way was when you were in your last foster home, they were meant to adopt you, citing that they couldn’t have kids. Then they fell pregnant, cancelling the adoption and sending you back. You were only four then but it filled you with doubt. Would your Mami and Olga send you away too? Would you go to mamas or back into a foster home? 

Those thoughts consumed you for months. When you finally moved into the new house, you picked the room the furthest from your Mami and Olga’s room. You turned extra quiet. In your mind, if you were quiet then they would forget you were there. They wouldn’t send you away because they wouldn’t remember you were there. 

It back fired though, of course it did. Mama was coming to Madrid for Easter, your Mami agreed that you would go to Madrid and spend a few days with her then come back home and do Easter with the Putellas-Rios family. 

For four days you forgot about the impending doom that was waiting for you at home. For four days your mama and her family treated you like a princess, spoiling you and reminding you of how loved you were. 

On the flight home you turned quiet again, your mama noticed, pulling you up on it straight away. 

“Princess, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing mama.” 

“You can tell me. You don’t have to lie bebé.” 

“Imscaredillbesentaway.” You said it so fast, your heart beating out of your chest, making you want to throw up. 

“Can you say that again for me? More slow this time.” 

You took a deep breath, refusing to look at your mama, “I’m scared I’ll be sent away when the baby comes. Mami and Olga won’t want me anymore.” 

“It won’t happen. You’re here to stay, forever. Why would you think that?” 

“It happened before. Before you and Mami. So it’ll happen again.” 

“No! No it won’t. You’re not going anywhere, you’re our daughter. Mine, mamis, and Olga’s. You’re our first baby, no one in this world would be able to take you.” Jenni spoke with so much conviction that apart of you believed her. 

“Do you promise?” 

“I promise. On everything. On my career, on your mamis. I promise.” Jenni’s heart broke at your lack of believing. She knew you took change hard but had hoped that as you grew up, you were more welcome to it. She guesses you just hide it easier. 

When you both arrived at the Barcelona airport and made it through security, Alexia and Olga were both waiting. Big smiles on their faces as their excitement to have you back was evident. You on the other hand, tensed the minute you saw them. Jenni knew she only had a limited amount of time to talk to alexia before her flight back to Madrid. 

“Ale, I need to talk to you.” She pulled alexia’s arm, trying to get her away from Olga and you. Olga noticed and nudged you away from them. 

“Everything alright?” 

“No. I know you’re excited to be having a baby with Olga but I’m worried you’re forgetting about y/n.” 

“What are you talking about? How could I forget her?” 

“She’s scared you’ll send her away when the baby comes Ale. She said it. Look at her, really look at her.” They both turned to look at you. You were hitting your hand against your leg, something you did when you were anxious. Your eyes stayed trained on the ground, refusing to look at Olga when she spoke. “That’s not the same kid I just spent 4 days with.” 

It seemed that both Olga and Alexia realised at the same time. Olga looked up with wide eyes, slightly panicked at the fact you weren’t engaging with her as usual, alexia on the other hand looked at you with her eyes full of tears. 

Arriving home didn’t bring you comfort, going to your room at the end of the house didn’t bring the calmness you thought it would. Instead it left you feeling empty and sad. 

The next few days were hard. Your Mami and Olga tried to talk to you, even going as far to get Mapi involved with Pina, Patri and Cata but nothing worked. You were stuck in a rut of anxiety and scaredness. 

Olga finally got you to crack, your Mami regretfully had to go away again for a game. Meaning she’d leave you while you were clearly going through something and she’d miss an ultrasound with Olga. 

The morning of the ultrasound, Olga all but dragged you out of the house. She too was feeling a mix of emotions. Despite both alexia and Jenni saying she was just as much as a parental figure to you as they were, she couldn’t help but feel on the outside. She hoped this baby would form as a bridge to you. Something you had more in common, but instead it was causing a wedge between all of you. 

You both cried at the ultrasound, seemingly for different reasons but at the time, Olga was optimistic that it was for the same reason. Seeing the baby. 

When you returned home you disappeared to your room very quickly, only to return with a duffle bag and backpack. 

“Can you take me to Eli’s please?” 

“What?” Olga was confused, Alexia never said anything about you staying there while she was gone. 

“You have your kid. You don’t want me here, Mami doesn’t want me here, so can you please take me? If you can’t it’s fine. I know how to get there.” 

“Y/n no. I’m not taking you to Eli’s-“ it came out a lot harsher than she anticipated. She realised as soon as the words left her mouth, “I’m sorry. What I meant is, this is your home. Now and forever. It doesn’t matter if I’m having a baby, no one can ever replace you. You’re our mariquita. You belong here, in this family.” 

“People have said that before and then they change their minds. This is what’s best. I leave and you and Mami can have the baby in peace. It’s okay Olga. I’ll catch the bus.” You were gone before she could argue. 

You heard the apartment door close behind you, Olga’s footsteps approaching as fast as she could, “mariquita please wait!” The fire staircase locked behind you as you ran down the stairs towards the exit. You knew it locked, you knew Olga would be stuck waiting for a lift, so it gave you time to figure how to get the bus. 

Olga raced back to the apartment only to realise her keys were inside. The door was locked and she was on the wrong side of the door. As if this whole thing couldn’t get any worse. 

In panic she rang alexia, which was the worst idea she could’ve had and as soon as alexia started to panic, she hung up. You said you were going to Eli’s, so she rang Eli who then rang alba who then rang the rest of her family. Soon enough the entire Putellas family was out hunting for you. 

You had a phone, she could’ve rang you, but in her panic she forgot about that. Alexia didn’t though, she rang you. Multiple times. Each time you watched it ring out, too afraid of her confirming the fact that she was going to ‘return you’. 

After what felt like hours, you finally arrived to Mollet. The sun was setting so you knew you had to go fast. Eli was there when you arrived, running out the front door when she saw you come up the driveway. 

“Mariquita! Dios mío you scared me. You scared us all! What were you thinking!” 

“Mami and Olga don’t want me anymore. You know how to book flights so I wanted to come here. Olga said she wouldn’t take me so I took the bus.” 

“They don’t want to get rid of you! What are you talking about?” Eli was in disbelief. She couldn’t believe that you truly felt that way, or that her daughter would give you that idea. 

“It’s happened before! Why aren’t people understanding! Mami and Olga are finally having a baby, making their own family. Their OWN. I’m not apart of that. This family is no longer mine, and that’s okay. If you won’t help me get to mama, I’ll figure it out myself.” 

“No. You will come inside and we will wait for your Mami and Olga. You will eat dinner and have a shower but you’re not leaving and I am not booking you a flight.” 

You ate in silence, much to Eli’s dismay. She tried and tried to get more answers out of you, giving up when she realised you wouldn’t talk anymore. Seeing you this way, being selectively mute, reminded her of the first time she met you. 

You were a tiny four year old. Both alexia and alba were at least double your weight when they were your age. It shocked Eli, alexia had warned her but no amount of warning could stop the feelings that she felt when she saw you. 

Both Eli and Alba had been waiting patiently to meet you. They were told from the beginning that you were different, suffered from trauma that neither Alexia nor Jenni fully understood. To Eli, you were perfect. 

The social worker warned Alexia and Jenni about the trauma you had endured and that they weren’t sure about how much you remembered or what you saw. When things got overwhelming you went mute. It was a coping mechanism and over the years, with lots of therapy and love, that habit disappeared. 

As you stood behind Alexia’s legs, peaking through every so often, you looked tiny. There were healing bruises on your arms. Not in the way kids normally get bruises. 

It took a long time for you to say anything more than “hola” to her. She remembers the day like it was yesterday. You had scored a goal against Mapi and you were so excited. Smashing through the front door, without evening taking your shoes off. 

Eli cried that night. She cried about how happy you looked, how happy you were and how you actually spoke. 

It was now the opposite, you weren’t that shy little four year anymore. But old habits die hard. Sometimes it’s easier to go mute than to focus on what was truly happening. 

Olga was waiting in the spare room when you got out of the shower. Or the room that used to be alexia’s room. Littered with photos of her and her friends as they grew up, a few of her and your mama, alba too. It was a time capsule, for you it felt overbearing. You didn’t have friends like she did, you’d have a sibling in four months but it wouldn’t be the same as her and alba. 

“Mariquita. We need to have a proper conversation. I want you to tell me everything. If you truly can’t, I will wait for your Mami, but you need to talk. No more pretending everything is fine.” 

“Okay.” You say on the floor, your knees pressed against your chest, your back hard against the wall. “What do you want me to say first?” 

“How did you feel when we told you we were having a baby?” 

“Scared. Excited. Anxious. Jealous.” 

“Can you elaborate please?” 

“Before Mami and mama, I was with this other couple. They couldn’t have kids for whatever reason and they were going to adopt me. A few weeks before they found out they were having a baby and cancelled the adoption. Literally just palmed me off. Then the kids at the group home would say how no one wanted me and whatever. I didn’t think I believed it but I guess I did. 

You and Mami would have this experience, you being pregnant I mean, Mami and mama didn’t have that with me, so I feel like this baby is better than me in that sense. Mama is so far away and I was scared that if you decided to get rid of me that she wouldn’t get here in time and I’d just be on the street.

I picked the room furthest from the others because I thought, I thought if I did that you would forget I was there. It would be sad to be forgotten but I would have somewhere safe to stay. 

Then you said you wouldn’t bring me here and I panicked. I thought someone was going to come and take me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Sobs racked your body, and for the first time Olga saw you as the little girl Alexia described. Broken, scared and tiny. Right then in her mind, you weren’t the twelve year old she’d grown to love, you were a tiny four year old. Scared of what was to come. 

“No Mariquita. No sorry. You were scared, that’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared, anxious and whatever else you want to feel. You’re allowed to feel it all but you’re safe here, with you Mami, mama and with me. Yes, this will be the first baby I give birth too, but it’s not my first kid.” You looked up at her, not realising she had moved in front of you, “you’re my first kid Mariquita. You’re as much my daughter as you are to your Mami and mama. I know it is a big change, you’re scared and truthfully I am scared. Terrified actually. But I know you’re going to be the best big sister ever and this baby is lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have you.” 

You let yourself fall into Olga’s arms. You were both crying, hanging onto each other for dear life. When alexia arrived to her mamis house, all guns blazing, she was met with a stern Eli. Giving her daughter an ear full about the way she spoke to Olga. Olga however didn’t hold a grudge. She knew Alexia was panicking, she was also panicking. 

“Ale, she needs therapy, she needs help. Don’t be mad at her, you can be mad at me but not her.”

“I’m not mad. I’m sorry, I was just so scared. I didn’t want to leave as it was and then I did and this happens? What do we do olgi?” 

“We start by moving her room, closer to ours.” Alexia gave her girlfriend a confused look, “she took that room in case we didn’t want her anymore. She’d be far away so she’d stay out of the way and have somewhere to stay.” 

Alexia let the tears fall, wrapping an arm around Olga as they wanted you sleep. “How did things get so fucked up?” 

“We will fix it. All of it.” Instead of waking you and leaving for their own house, both alexia and Olga climbed into bed with you. The game was the last thing on Alexia’s mind. All she wanted was for her family to be happy, for you to be happy. 

Fix it they did. It started with moving your room, something you were still on edge about, even with all the reassurance. Then it was the therapy, twice a week. Once with the school counsellor and once with the clubs psychologist. 

Neither Alexia nor Olga spoke about the baby around you, both families were also on strict instructions not too. Both therapists agreed that it would be better for now, if you wanted to know, you would ask. It wasn’t that you hated this unborn baby, it was that you were still scared about being ‘returned’. 

Olga had an ultrasound coming up, it was to find out the gender and your Mami wanted you there. They had put off finding out the gender for the last two months because they wanted you there to enjoy it. She wanted this to be a family event, something that would bring you all join but she also knew not to push you. 

“Mari, bebé, can you come here for a sec?” 

“Mami I promise I’ll clean my room!”

“It’s not about that.” Your Mami laughed. “I want to ask you a question. If you don’t feel comfortable and want to stay here or with Alba that’s fine. There’s no pressure at all. Okay?”  

“Okay?”

“Today Olga has an ultrasound to find out the gender. I want to invite you, again there’s no pre-“

“Yeah I’ll come.” To you, it was no longer a big deal. You were mostly excited for the baby, still a little nervous about the change. Your Mami was sat gobsmacked on the couch as you walked away, finally going to clean your room. 

Olga got in the car, completely unaware of your presence until you asked a simple question, to which she let out a bloody curling scream, clutching her chest. All you and your Mami could do was laugh. She didn’t ask any questions about what you were doing, only giving Alexia a look that said ‘we will talk later.’ 

‘A boy.’ The technician announced. 

A flurry of movement happened in that moment. Your Mami had pulled you towards her and Olga, a group hug forming. There were tears, happy tears. And when your Mami looked at you sadly you made sure to emphasise that were happy. 

There was a question bobbing around in your head though. How did Olga get pregnant. Obviously you were given a simple sex talk in school and by both your mothers, but it never occurred to you that two women would have sex differently. That was something you would need to google when you got home, not wanting to deal with the awkwardness of asking your Mami or Olga. 

“Ice cream time?” Your Mami smiled as she pulled you into her side. 

“I definitely want ice cream.” Olga piped up. 

You interlinked your hands with Olga’s, swinging them, laughing and smiling as you went along for the journey to the ice cream parlour. 

As all three of you sat there laughing and eating your ice cream, all alexia could think about is how lucky she was. There would be more bumps in the road, but right now everyone was happy. You were laughing and smiling with Olga, it was definitely a sight for sore eyes. 

The following two months were basically spent fussing over Olga and her ever growing baby bump. She referred to you and your Mami as ‘the twins’. Forever asking if she needed something or offered to get it for her, even going so far as to guide her to the bathroom when Alexia was away for a game. 

You were certainly the mediator between them somedays. Alexia going on about how the baby doesn’t need more clothes, or shoes, or toys but you would side with Olga. Or when Alexia wanted Olga to stay in bed to relax, you were at her side encouraging her to do so. 

The biggest surprise came when you asked what the birth plan was. 

“I don’t know. Push it out and hope I don’t poop?” 

Alexia was bewildered, “why do you ask? How do you know what a birth plan is?” 

“I googled it.” You shrugged, “I’ve also watched birthing videos on YouTube. You’ll probably shit yourself.” 

“Not helpful!” 

“Is that something you want to be involved in?” Your Mami asked as she rang her fingers through your hair, making a mental note to book you in for a haircut soon. 

“If that’s what Olga wants.” 

“I do. But you don’t have to. It’ll probably be gross.” 

“Oh it’ll definitely be gross.” Both adults laughed as you scrunched your nose. 

“Can I leave if it gets too much?” 

“Of course Mari! Eli and my mami will be in the waiting room.” 

“Along with half the team no doubt.” 

It was settled, you would be there to watch your little brother come into this world. The option to leave was there if you wanted to take it. There was truly only one question still in your mind: how did Olga get pregnant?

As the final month began, everyone around was on edge, expect for you. You have read everything, watch hours and hours of YouTube videos. You were ready. Emotionally, you were better. Talking candidly with your mami and mama whenever they asked, Olga too. 

If you needed to deliver the baby in the lounge room, you could do that. If you needed to drive her to the hospital, illegally, you could do that. Thanks to bullying Mapi into teaching you how to drive when she was supposed to be watching you for a date night. 

You and Olga had secretly bought and packed a second hospital bag, knowing the minute Olga’s water broke, your mami would be insane. And she was. 

A week after the baby’s due date, Olga’s water broke. She was sitting outside on the chairs enjoying the sun when it happened. Her contractions weren’t as frequent as the hospital required, once every 15 or so minutes. But as soon as she told Alexia, she went crazy. 

Both of you found it amusing, watching her run around the house trying to find things she would need, offering Olga the hair straightener, hair drier, a scrubbing brush? She wouldn’t relax until you called your abuela. When Eli arrived, Olga’s contractions were 12 minutes apart, Alexia looked like she was going to throw up, pass out and cry all at once. 

Even though she was running around like a headless chook, every time a contraction hit she was right there by Olga’s side. Helping her breathe through it. For someone so calm and collected when it came to football, she was truly the opposite right now. Your abuela couldn’t help but laugh when she saw what her daughter was doing. 

Between every contraction Alexia was off cleaning something, as if they had not organised for the cleaner to come while Olga was in labour. 

“Mami? What are you doing?” Curiosity got the best of you, finding your mami in the wardrobe going through her sock drawer. 

“Mari! Good you’re here, help me go through these please. I think some of these socks are yours.” 

“No mami.” You laughed at her truly panicked state, you couldn’t wait to tell Mapi about it, “Olga’s in labour and you’re in here organising your socks? Do you think that’s a good use of your time?” 

“¡Dios mío! You’re right! I need to clean your bathroom!”

“Mami no! You need to be with Olga. You’re being slightly insane right now.” 

“I’m panicking okay? I don’t know what to do!” 

“You should probably breathe and put the hospital bag in the car. It’s in the hallway closet.” 

“No, it’s next to my side of the bed. I made sure it was close.”

“Oh nah we aren’t taking that one. Olga bought another because she knew you would panic. Vamos! We are having a baby.” You smiled and skipped out of the room. 

After a very long 16 hours, it was finally time for Olga to push. Everyone was exhausted. Labour looked rough, the videos you had watched didn’t make it same as bad but it was bad. 

As Olga’s legs opened and while she was mid push, you decided to look. Why? You had no idea. 

“I’ve never seen a vagina before and that’s disgusting.” You looked like you were going to pass out. A clip to the back of your head and a stern look from your mami had you mumbling a sorry to a laughing Olga. 

It didn’t take much longer for your baby brother to be born. You were crying, Olga was crying your mami too but most importantly, your baby brother was crying. 

Truthfully, a few hours ago you were getting anxious about how the aftermath would be, but when Olga reached out for your hand, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, you knew everything would be okay. 

Your mami sent you home with Eli to shower and get some sleep. There were so many questions in your head, ones you wanted to google and ones you just wanted to ask. After a good feed and sleep, you were back to the hospital the next morning. 

Your mami was pacing the room when you got there, looking anxious and sweaty. 

“Hi? Can I come in?” You asked shyly. 

“Mari! Oh bebé, of course you can. Come here, hug me.” She squeezed you so tight and you were hitting her back to get her to stop. 

“Mami. Mami! Can’t breathe!” You spattered out. 

“Oops sorry!” She slightly pushed you away. Olga was nursing your baby brother. He looked so small, smaller than you imagine. 

“Do you want to hold him?” Olga asked, noticing you were staring. 

“Can I?” 

Your mami walked you through it, one hand supporting his head, the other his body. 

“What’s his name?” 

“Rio Jaume Putellas.” She fiddled with the beanie on his head, “rio for Olga’s last name, Jaume for my papi, Putellas for you.” Alexia wanted to cry, the way you looked at the baby was the same way she looked at Alba. Sure, there was a twelve year age gap between you and baby Rio, but that look told her everything she needed to know. You would protect him with your life, love him with your entire heart, and annoy him like any big sister would. 

Friends and family slowly trickled into the room throughout the day, when Ingrid and Mapi arrived they were so overcome with emotion that Mapi was crying. A big ugly cry. For you, it was funny. 

“I have a question.” All four adults turned to you, “I know how babies are made with a man and a woman but with two woman do you use that strap thing that has a button to make the stuff come out? I don’t really understand.” 

Everyone’s faces dropped, if baby Rio wasn’t in the bassinet, you were sure he would be on the floor. 

“What the fuck.” Mapi was the first person to say anything. 

“Y/n how do you know what that is?” Your mami used your first name, something she didn’t do very often. 

“I googled it? I wanted to be prepared for all of this.” 

“Your iPad is being taken away from you.” Was all Olga said. Poor Ingrid was still in disbelief. 

“No ipad, no phone, no tv. Anything that has the internet is gone. Absolutely not.” 

When alba walked into the tense room and saw you mami pacing, once again, she was confused. “Ah what happened?” 

“I asked if they used the strap thing that has stuff come out of it to make baby rio. Now they are broken.” You shrugged, waving your hand around at them. 

“A strap thing with stuff coming out of it?” Alba repeated back, not understanding what you were saying. “Oh. OH!” It clicked. Then she laughed, tears coming out of her eyes, stomach hurting, kind of laugh. 

“This isn’t funny Alba!” Alexia gritted. 

“Lesbian sex talk time! Are we making a PowerPoint?” A pillow was through at her, this time from Olga. 

Thankfully both your abuela and Olga’s mum arrived so the subject was changed very quickly. For you- no answers were supplied and your mami seemingly forgot about the no internet rule very quickly. 

Once everyone was home, it was weird. You weren’t 100% sure what to do, every time the baby cried you just stared at him. Unsure if you were allowed to help. One morning when it was just you and Olga in the kitchen you asked. 

“I want to help but I don’t know what to do.” 

“You’re helping Mari.” You gave her a confused look, “you make coffee for us in the morning, you changed our bed sheets the other night, every morning I come out here it’s clean. Because you do that. You’re helping in ways that are unimaginable but I want you to remember that you’re twelve. You don’t have to do all this. My mami, Eli, your mami, they can all do it.” 

She pulled you into her side, kissing your cheek. Olga was grateful for you, your mami was grateful for you, and you were grateful for them. For being patient, not getting rid of you, for loving you. 

When you rocked baby Rio to sleep, you reminded him that he was loved, safe and wanted. Something you didn’t want him to forget. 

Alexia would often cry when she saw you holding him with a big smile on her face. Or when she saw you doing tummy time with him because he was ‘lonely on the ground by himself’. 

Your family was full. Hearts were full. Love was never far away. 

[steddiealltheway]

Steve can see it in Max. That same loneliness and ache that he finds in himself. For him, it’s result of his parents leaving with no intent to return to him unless absolutely necessary.

He knows he was an accident. Or rather a mistake as his father used to call him when he was particularly angry. But it made sense to him. Steve's the reason his father had to marry his mother. He left him "trapped." And maybe no one says it out loud, but he can tell his mother feels the same way too.

But they must keep up appearances, right?

Which is what Max has been trying to do since Billy died, El moved away, and it's been just her and her mom. But she's been going about it through a different route - pushing people away all while pretending things are fine. But Steve sees the way she picks up the broken pieces of her mom and tries to put them back together - Steve's had to do the same thing before.

So, he starts sticking around a little longer. Offering her more rides to the arcade and around town to pick up groceries when she needs to. Sometimes he'll tell her about a new recipe he's been trying for a casserole and pick up the ingredients, pretending like the milk and butter he bought will spoil by the time he drives home from her trailer.

Of course, they both know it's a lie, but Max humors him and plays along. She'll let him cook dinner while she picks up the bottles her mom left on the floor, dumps out the overflowing ashtray, and feeds the dog. Usually, Steve will ask her what she's learning in school and linger a little longer than usual in hopes that she'll say more than the usual, "I don't know. A bunch of boring stuff."

But lingering has gotten a lot of things out of Max such as her love for Kate Bush, a story about El and how much she misses her, and short quips about Lucas before she gets a sad smile on her face. Steve doesn't really know what to say most of the time, but he hopes that just being there will help.

Unfortunately, lingering and just being there has led him to his current predicament of none other than Eddie "The Freak" Munson sitting on the hood of his car glaring at him as he walks out of Max's place. Steve jumps a little, startled by the figure on his car and becoming more hostile as he sees the expression on his face. He shoves his hands in his pockets and slows his pace. "Is there a problem?"

Eddie snorts humorlessly. "Christ. You're really going to pretend like there's nothing wrong with what's happening?"

Steve's brows furrow, entirely missing whatever point he's trying to make.

Eddie stands up and stalks toward him. "I see you, you know. Always lurking around when her mom isn't home. Coming out of her trailer late at night."

Steve laughs, finally understanding the absurd conclusion he's come to. "Jesus, man. You're delusional."

Steve doesn't expect it, but Eddie sharply shoves his chest and grits, "I don't fucking lie to me, Harrington."

Steve holds his hands up. "I'm not," he firmly states. "Nothing like that is happening here. I'm glad you're looking out for her, but it isn't like that."

"Do you expect me to believe that? Maybe this is why you're always hanging around Henderson and the other kids."

Steve crosses his arms and his jaw tenses. "I'm not a fucking pervert or a pedophile if that's what you're trying to say. I'm just looking after them."

"Why?" Eddie asks, dramatically opening his arms, "Why would King Steve adopt a group of misfits to take under his wing? See, the math isn't adding up."

Usually, Steve would just brush it off and tell the person to fuck off and mind their own business. But his parents have just left town again without leaving a note and Max had snapped when Steve tried to help her clean the place because it looked worse than usual, and he was just generally feeling like shit and angry at his parents and Max's parents for not being there. So he broke, "Because I don't want Max to end up like me! I don't want any of those kids to grow up without a role model. And god forbid if any of those other kids' parents fuck up, and they’re left with only me. I need them to know that I'm there for them! Because sometimes it feels like whenever the world goes to shit, I'm the only one who is there, and I plan to stay there, okay?!"

He finishes his rant breathing a little heavier than usual and noticing that a few of the lights in the trailers have turned on around them. He looks around and awkwardly nods to the people glaring out their windows. God, he needs to get a grip.

When he turns back to Eddie, he notices the conflicted expression, jaw dropped, eyebrows knitted together, eyes searching him as if he's still wondering if he's lying.

A door creaks open behind them and Steve curses under his breath as he hears Max say, "Eddie, leave him alone. Do you really think I would hook up with my damn babysitter? Jeez."

"Language," Steve quietly lectures as the door swings shut. He runs his hands over his face and takes a deep breath. It's been a long fucking day.

A hand lands on his arm and tugs him away from Max's trailer. Steve glances up at Eddie, leading him across the way. "Where are we going?"

"My place," Eddie says.

"Why?"

"So we can talk."

God, the last thing he wants to do is talk to Eddie of all people, the guy he's been actively avoiding since Dustin started worshipping the ground - or rather tables - he walks on. But he lets himself be pulled away in the trailer and practically deposited on the couch in the living room.

He glances up and comments, "That's a lot of mugs."

"My uncle's, but that's not what I wanted to... Christ," Eddie says, pacing in front of Steve and tugging his hair in front of his face. The anxious display makes Steve feel even more tired, but he lets him pace. God, what is he even doing here?

"I'm sorry," Eddie blurts out. "I'm just..." he trails off and rushes over to grab a stool a few feet away before dragging it in front of the couch. He sits on it but his leg still holds that nervous energy as it rapidly bounces up and down. "I jumped to conclusions, and it was really shitty of me, man. I just... didn't believe what Henderson was saying about you and thought 'Oh, this makes way more sense than Steve Harrington being a good dude.' And I'm sorry to accuse you of that. And I... I didn't know about your... parents and stuff. Like I knew they were away a lot because of your parties but... I just never connected the dots. And I'm sorry. No one deserves that shit, man."

Steve doesn't know what to do this whole interaction, especially with it coming from Eddie Munson who he doesn't think he's ever talked to before this moment, but... he needs to hear it. God, he needs to hear it.

Of course, he can't let him know this, so he does what he's best at and brushes it off. "It's fine. You were just looking out for the kids. And really just ignore what I said back there, it isn't that big of a deal."

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he blurts out, "I know what it's like." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "I mean, I know what it's like to have... absent parents. But in my case, eventually, my uncle Wayne took me in, and I can only imagine if he didn't." He gives him a pointed look and lowers his voice, "Do you have someone like that?"

A big part of Steve wants to leave right now, and he knows there's nothing stopping him. But a bigger part of him needs to stay. Needs to talk about the emptiness in his house that he can never truly escape at the end of the day that he can’t talk to anyone about. Because he's not supposed to be weak. He's supposed to take care of the others. So he admits, "No, I don't have... anyone like that. Except Robin but..."

"That's different," Eddie finishes the thought for him.

Steve nods. He loves Robin, but he loves her as a platonic soulmate and not as a parent figure in his life. "You know, I once had this basketball coach in middle school - Mr. Weston. And I remember looking up to him so much. I wanted to be just like him, and I would go to his office during lunch and ask him for advice or talk about dumb shit that my father would never talk about. But he never shamed me for my questions. And sometimes he even packed an extra dessert for me." Steve smiles at the memories and runs a hand through his hair, remembering the day he got the news. "But one time, when I went to his office, he had this look on his face. And I just knew it was bad news. And really, it wasn't bad news to him because his wife was pregnant. But she wanted to move a few states away to raise the kid closer to her family. And it wasn't his fault, you know? It wasn't like he purposely chose to move away from me, but I felt like I was abandoned again."

Steve wipes a tear from his eye and puts his head in his hands. "God, I don't know why I'm even telling you this story. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Eddie says quickly. He pauses and shifts on the stool, his gaze being far away. "I remember him. He was one of the only gym teachers that defended me against all the shitty middle school bullies. He was a good person.”

Steve nods. God, he was a good person.

Eddie continues, “I'm sorry that he left. And I bet he still regrets leaving you behind."

Steve leans back against the couch and looks away, shaking his head. "I bet he forgot about me."

"You're kind of hard to forget."

Steve looks at Eddie and sees a slight blush on his cheeks as he shakes his head and waves his hands as if trying to make the comment go away. "What I mean is that there's no way he's forgotten about you. Someone who you used to have lunch with all the time to the point of giving you free food... Nah, man. He remembers you. I think you may have been as important to him as he was to you."

The thought breaks away at a wall Steve had built up long ago. "Thanks," he practically whispers.

Eddie just smiles at him, small dimples appearing on his cheeks.

"You didn't deserve it either, you know," Steve says. "The absent parent stuff. Even with Wayne, they should've been here too."

Eddie's smile falters a bit as he swallows and looks at the ground. "Thanks," he mumbles. He looks up at Steve and comments, "Getting sappy with Steve Harrington. Who knew."

"Yeah, getting sappy with Eddie Munson," Steve echoes back at him.

Eddie laughs, "I'm surprised you even know my name."

"You're kind of hard to forget," Steve says easily.

That same blush comes back to Eddie who shifts in his chair a bit as if he needs to process the information with his whole body.

They sit in the moment for a bit before Eddie gets a somewhat serious look on his face and offers, "You know, I'm definitely not a parent figure or anything, but I'm always here and around to talk about that whole thing if you need to."

Steve's heart beats a little faster at the sheer genuineness. "Same here," he can't help but offer in return. He glances down at his watch and sighs, "It's getting late, so I better..."

"Right," Eddie says, standing up and leading him to the door. "Do you need water for the road or anything?"

Steve smiles and pats him on the back without thinking too hard about it. "I'm good, man. But thank you. For everything really."

"Sorry for being an asshole," Eddie apologizes again.

"Usually that's my line," Steve accidentally voices before cringing a bit, wondering further why Eddie's been so kind to him.

But as he opens the door, Eddie comments, "I don't know. It seems like Dustin was right about the whole reformed jock thing. Maybe your crown really has fallen - which is a good thing by the way."

Steve slightly smiles at him before he turns to leave. But he can't help but say, "I wonder what the neighbors will think about me leaving your trailer so late."

Eddie groans then laughs. "Sorry to ruin your image."

"I wouldn't mind," Steve replies, honestly unsure what he means by that. "Goodnight, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Steve," Eddie says, that same blush on his cheeks, only this time Steve isn't sure if it's something he said or a result of the cold night air.

In bed that night, Steve feels a slight weight lifted from him and can't help but feel like he’s a little less alone.

[eskir]

domestic headcanons - sunday x gn!reader

after years of dating, engagement, and years after the marriage, sunday and you have a family now. set in an alternate universe and the children can be adopted or not, you choose! this is written before i've played the 2.7 sunday quest.

robin, the certified responsible aunt, would definitely sing your children to sleep. as a result, your children might not exactly understand that she's a famous star, and instead just think she's the cool aunt who takes care of them. and maybe also the cool aunt who sneaks them candy when you and sunday aren't looking.

however, if you also give them candy, make sure to give it to them in moderation or sunday might lovingly berate you. something along the lines of "they barely brush their teeth already" or "moderation is good." you choose to only laugh a little and shake your head.

while you and sunday might have your hands full with the children (as mischievous as they could be) it is a monthly ritual for you two to have a date night. whether it be going out to a fancy dinner place and spending the night at a hotel or merely enjoying a quiet moment together, you two try to keep that routine. of course, it can be hard when complications arrive, but it allows you and sunday to spend more quality time together.

robin will always volunteer to supervise your children if that happens, but if she isn't available (let's face it, she's most likely going on at least month long tours), there's always some friends of yours or someone you could hire. although when hiring someone, sunday would meticulously check their background.

additionally, when the children are young, sunday would sing them lullabies. he might do so when you're not around, and when you walk in he'll cover his face with his wings in embarrassment. the children would most likely laugh at the sight and ask him to do that again, and he would begrudgingly do so.

also, if you have halovian children, expect them to copy sunday's wings' behavior. also expect them to try to fly with their wings, much like sunday when he was younger. of course, the attempt will fail, and that child will be nursing a broken wing if they fall.

i honestly see sunday as being a very gentle father. of course he has his rules concerning bedtime, screentime, and foods, but if he can definitely be persuaded. once your children figure out how to do so...

well have fun.

there could also be family cuddle sessions, where you all position yourselves on a couch and watch tv. of course, sunday would fight to be next to you, but most times the children would win with a very very smug grin on their face(s).

although his pouting face always did make you snicker, the way his wings would droop and he would turn his head in protest. he might be a little dramatic.

while i did mention my headcanon of sunday was that he's a gentle father, he also doubles as the father who, when the children were younger, would sit next to their bed and watch over them with a melancholy look on his face.

he still remembers gopher wood, and he doesn't ever want to become like him. so he's always cautious to let his children fly and roam free, trying to not talk of any of his ideologies too much. he doesn't do too much guilt tripping and whenever one of them might break a dish or cause trouble, he's quick to comfort them first before gently telling them why they're in the wrong.

so make sure to shoo him out of the room sometimes. he can be a bit of a worrywart, especially when the children go off to school. eventually he'll learn how to cope, but the first time he took the day off of work and was just pacing around in the house.

side note, but i also believe sunday to have either the best work-life balance or it's absolute trash. he'll either immediately stop working and worrying about work after hours or continue working and stressing. you might even see some more white hairs in his head.

at those moments you might just call robin.

also, while he might be wary of giving the children too many sweets, if he starts eating a dessert, he'll reluctantly finish it all. you and the children might catch his wings fluttering, and your children will definitely use that to their advantage.

but, overall, it's a good family. one that you, sunday, and your children wouldn't trade for any other.

[q8qwertyuiop8p]

The fact that they killed off silco at the end of season 1 and STILL managed to completely butcher his character in s2 irks me so much. And it got worse with every scene like

The burial and the sucker montage was perfectly fine, though they forgot silco can't close both eyes and had a bullet wound in his chest

The way he is still encouraging Jinx to be Jinx in her ep4 hallucination is a little odd since he died accepting her before she truly chose Jinx but overall it was good

Warwicks hallucination was neat but Silco's hair is completely inconsistent with what we see in s1 (and just looks trash imo)

The letter was a disaster because it is such a cheap reason for the betrayal

The Felicia thing made their reasoning so much worse, they don't need to be godfathers to adopt those kids and the scene was just so pointless

The au scene- I don't even know what to say. Vander literally tried to murder Silco but it's OK because aw forgiveness and they are back together?! If Vander tried to kill Silco because he genuinely believed he was protecting his people from further bloodshed maybe I could get behind it but no, he tried to kill Silco because his friend died (which wasn't even Silco's fault) and he just 'lost his head'? And does Silco just not develop trust issues after that in the au? How is his scar somehow less bad if he doesn't have shimmer to heal it? It literally makes zero sense.

And the thing with Silco telling Jinx to 'break the cycle' was just an absolute insult to his character. He literally died choosing war/violence rather than giving up Jinx. His whole goal was to keep fighting for what he believed in. And is he seriously encouraging Jinx to kill herself? The man who chose to keep fighting rather than give in to the 'peace in water'? The man who would do anything to keep Jinx alive, even when death was the kinder option? The man who gave up his dream, everything he'd ever been fighting for, just to keep her safe?

They messed up so bad that the only flawless scene of him was a one second shot of him sitting in a chair 💀

The only good thing about what happened in this season is I'm genuinely not even upset that he is a minor character in season 2 anymore. I can't believe I'm saying this but I genuinely can't be mad about it. Because if they can ruin his character this much with his little screentime I can't even imagine the harm they would have done if he were still a main character.

Sometimes death is a mercy after all.

[the-ace-with-spades]

(sorry this got longer than I thought)

You know what fic I'd love to read?

One where Carole dies but doesn't get anything in order before her death (as is many times the case) and Mav is installed as Bradley's temporary guardian after her death but everything goes wrong very fast

Due to Mav's less than heterosexuals tendencies, Bradley ends up in the foster system. One day a social worker with a police officer just shows up and takes him away from school and he doesn't know what's going on. He ends up in his first not so good foster family the same evening. Mav can't even visit as he is deemed a bad influence and has an ongoing investigation if he is 'fit' to be Bradley's guardian.

He doesn't stop asking about Mav for months. Keeps trying to run away to him (he's about 50 miles away because foster homes are sparse so no dice) and finally his foster 'mom' is fed up with the constant asks to at least try and call Mav so she tells him Mav didn't want him and doesn't want Bradley to contact him.

And because Bradley is twelve, he believes it.

(It's not that Mav didn't try. There was a whole appeal process but Mav had a deployment right after and he couldn't explain to the social workers that no, Bradley would stay with someone trusted while he was gone, because that someone was Ice, the source of his suspected homosexual tendencies. They literally told him he's not allowed to contact Bradley and once he came back from deployment, Bradley was already in a different foster home, a few counties over and lost in the system.)

Bradley spends the rest of his childhood in the system. His first family is dubious and the following ones are a mix of constant hope and disappointment. He has at least two different families foster him every year, until he is sixteen and ends up in a group home. There are only two families that he actually comes close to calling family - a young married couple that stops fostering when the wife is diagnosed with chronic autoimmune disorder, and a couple of teachers that have to drop one of the two kids they foster when the financial requirements to foster raise and decide that Bradley is going to be that kid.

No one ever even thinks about adopting him. He's got good grades and stays on top of school, but that's about what is going well in his life. Some families he's with are average - they let him be and maybe don't care as much for anything that involves him as long it doesn't stir trouble at the fostering agency and Bradley is healthy and safe. Some families are worse - sometimes he is one of the five kids and is expected to stay and be a live-in nanny, sometimes they're only doing it for the money and he has barely anything, barely any food, barely any attention, barely any clothes, barely any school supplies, just so he doesn't cost too much. Sometimes, things get physical - it happens less, the taller he gets and by the time he starts fighting back, he has enough reputation that no one believes it and no one wants to foster him anymore. And group home it is.

By the time he's seventeen, he's enlisted. Just so he leaves the system as fast as he can. It all works out because the Navy fits the bill for his university and NROTC when the time comes - even if he's told he's not a good candidate for the USNA, even if he was told his grades and his achievements should be more than enough, even if despite the circumstances, he managed to meet the same requirements.

Finding out that it was Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell who protested his application and pulled the plug on it is Bradley's second heartbreak.

Bradley bites down any complaints he has about life and enters UVA at 21, with a military scholarship and NROTC bursary. At that point, he doesn't even know if he still wants to go into aviation, it brings so much bitterness in him. But then his grades and his overall achievement are so good, everyone says it'd be a waste if he didn't go to one of the most competitive pipelines. The Navy pays for his private pilot licence when he hesitates, and sure enough, it does feel good.

The pipeline is where he meets Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who has two brothers and two sisters and who has jars of homemade jam and chocolate-covered plums sent in a little package from his mom at least once a month. Jake Seresin, who uses all his leave to attend weddings, holiday parties, birthday parties, even a dog's funeral. Jake Seresin, who comes from every Thanksgiving with spare pumpkin pie, who has a new handmade Christmas sweater every year.

Jake Seresin, who, for some reason not known to Bradley, is impressed with how effortless learning to fly is for Bradley, with how much Bradley knows, with how much he leads in the lectures and the flight lessons - most guys find Bradley annoying and cold and Bradley would've agreed with them if any said it to his face. The Navy is the only good thing Bradley's had since his mom died, he has much more time to focus on being good at whatever Navy throws at him and maybe that makes him strange and aloof. But not Jake.

Jake Seresin, who is a competitive asshole that can't shut his mouth for his own good. Who has no idea of personal space, who fills the silence better than a jukebox, who will drill and drill the topic until he gets an answer he can comprehend, who doesn't care what people think of him as long as he knows his worth.

Bradley might have a bit of a crush on him, but it's an annoying crush kind of crush - one he doesn't really want to have, one he doesn't really know what to do with. Jake Seresin, who probably would never look at Bradley twice, especially in that way.

They get separate F-18 training bases and Bradley forgets for a moment Jake Seresin ever existed.

Then, summer of 2011, Jake Seresin gets restationed, right into Bradley's squadron. And he's still his annoying self, inserting himself into Bradley's private space, private time, and doesn't let Bradley have a say in it, at all.

Maybe Bradley doesn't want to have any say in it, deep down.

A few months later, DADT gets repealed. It doesn't change much for Bradley, he's not going to talk to anyone about his personal life. But it seems it changes something for Jake.

Because he asks Bradley out on a date.

Bradley's never really dated. Didn't really have the time to when he was a teenager, moved so many times, and then he enlisted, and then he was in college and NROTC. He slept with people, but he's never dated anyone.

So he gets to know Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who despite bringing all that food back with him any time he visits his parents, can't cook at all and who would hang onto Bradley's arm or shoulders whenever Bradley cooked. Who can sew so well that he saves all of Bradley's old shirts. Who can't keep his mouth shut, no matter the circumstances - not in the theatre, not when they eat, not when they just watch a movie at home, not even in bed. Who seems to know every single tune under the sun but can't play a single instrument. Who has elaborate, detailed plans for his life - an admiral by forty, two kids by thirty-five, a nice little house in driving distance to some body of water, a German shepherd or a border collie for a family dog once the house is there, a personal two or maybe four-person plane by the time he's forty-five, maybe co-owning aeroclub by fifty.

Bradley's never before thought about the future.

He never tells Jake even half of the things he's seen and lived through when he was in foster care, never tells him about his pulled application from USNA, never tells him about Mav. He doesn't think Jake would be able to understand, the way his family seems perfect and loving and caring. He doesn't want him to know how many things is wrong with him.

But Jake knows he's got no family, that his dad died in the Navy, his mom when he started middle school, that he's been in foster care for all his teenage years. Knows that Bradley has no one to come back home.

"Don't be a fool, sweetheart," is what Jake tells him. "You've got me."

For the first time in his life at the age of 29, Bradley requests Christmas leave.

Bradley's never had a big family, but there was a time he once had a family - or so he thought, when he was twelve and the illusion shattered - so he thought he'd be okay.

And at first, he is fine. Jake rotates him around like a prize piece, introducing him to his siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, nephews, cousins, grandparents, but it's just two or three people at once. Whenever it seems like too much, Bradley drifts away to the kitchen where he can just stay silent and listen to Jake's mom talk to the various people that come by while he slices homemade ham or he steps out onto the backyard and talks to the kids of all the ages gathered around the makeshift playground.

But then they're right before dinner starts - there are over thirty people in the open space of the house, now that everyone arrived, and Bradley feels hot, suffocating in the crowded space, in the clutter of gifts and food and colorful Christmas sweaters.

And then, before he can take any of it in, he hears Jake, saying in his typical loud and teasing tone, that Bradley can play the piano, and look at that, he could play something Christmas-y before the turkey is done, and next thing he knows, there's over thirty pairs of eyes on him and plenty of people asking questions and making teasing remarks and it all seems so tricky--

He can't imagine himself, in that room, with all those people, feeling comfortable. So he walks out.

Bradley doesn't know how to be a part of a family. There's no reason to try and lie to himself and everyone else.

They don't see each other for years after. The next time they do, it's only the eight weeks at Top Gun. The Jake that Bradley knew isn't there - this Jake is bitter and sarcastic and sharp with his tongue. This Jake wins Top Gun and never looks back at Bradley when he returns to his station base.

The next time they see each other is at the Top Gun recall when Bradley is going through a life roller coaster.

Not only is Jake being the biggest ass not just to him but to everyone, for the first time in twenty years, Bradley sees Mav. Sure, maybe he's not moved on from Jake - he still remains the only person Bradley ever dated - but he's managed to dodge Maverick, and Iceman by association, in all those years he's been in the Navy and now he's forced to pretend all is fine.

And Maverick doesn't make it easier.

He tries to approach Bradley like they're long-lost friends, saying all those things about how he missed him and how Bradley looks so much like his dad. Like he didn't leave him in the foster system when he was a kid and didn't fuck up his application for USNA.

So he pretends he doesn't remember Maverick because that's the easiest given that Maverick is supposed to train him.

On top of that, Jake mixes himself up into Bradley's shit life situation when he overhears Mav trying to get Bradley to 'remember' and 'renew their relationship' and keeps pestering Bradley. Maybe he can tell you more about your childhood, why the hell are you so rude to him, he wouldn't make up knowing you, you know, maybe he's got some of your parents' stuff and can share---

And hearing the love of his life that he let get away because Bradley didn't know how to be part of his family side with the first person that told Bradley he's not enough to be someone's family - well, it's not exactly helping the state of Bradley'e mental being.

So maybe he explodes at Jake, a little bit, in the end. You want to talk to the man who left me behind when I was twelve and the only time he looked back was to tell me he didn't think I was good enough? Then so be fucking it.

Instead of butting into Bradley's life, Jake shuts up and starts avoiding him. Bradley supposes he has what he wanted.

Bradley doesn't care what Maverick thinks or if he changed or if he wants something from Bradley.

He still turns around when he's shot down. It's not like he's got someone to come back to anyway. Not because he cares about Maverick.

"I'm not you," Bradley tells Mav. "I don't leave people behind."

The admittance - that he knows and remembers Mav and wants nothing to do with him, wants to be nothing like him - works. They survive and Bradley doesn't see Maverick again, not when they're in the med bay, not when they're in the hospital in San Diego, not when he gets discharged.

He sees Jake instead, waiting on him at the reception of the unit he had been on, patiently waiting for Bradley to sign his discharge papers without using his broken wrist.

"What, do you have someone else to take your broken ass home?"

In truth, Bradley was just going to take a taxi. Instead, Jake takes the plastic bag with Bradley's clothes and silently leads them to his truck before he asks for Bradley's address.

And in all this mess, the first thing Jake asks him is, "Are you going to stay in San Diego?" because they have the offer to stay there and make their place in Top Gun-adjacent brand new squadron.

"No, I'm going to go back to my base," Bradley tells him. There's nothing for him San Diego, but there's plenty for Jake and he doesn't want to be a barrier.

"I think you should stay in San Diego. With me."

He wishes it was that simple but the truth is, Bradley is still the same.

"I can't be the person you want to have in your life."

"But you already are the person I want in my life."

"I think this is going to end up badly."

"Only if you let it."

Bradley's never really could say no to Jake.

It all seems so easy, when he falls asleep on Jake's shoulder watching Top Gear, but at some point, Bradley knows, they will get to the point when it'll all crush again.

There is also the whole thing with Maverick, their now CO, who appears to be some kind of ashamed now that he finally knows that Bradley remembers what he did - or rather what he didn't do. He avoids Bradley like the plague and it seems to be affecting the squad - because they all love Maverick and Bradley is the weirdo who can't have fun or be friendly. He's just waiting on someone to call him out as the party pooper contrasting to their fun CO and deem the problem, as always, just because he can't pretend to be happy to be around him.

Jake hasn't said anything about the Maverick thing explicitly but he gives Bradley those looks whenever Maverick is nearby and sometimes he makes those quips