#will write for the prompts when I can though

[writing-for-marvel]

Take Me Home

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky starts fiddling with his dog tags while out with your friends.

Prompt: comforting one another

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s past trauma but not detailed

Word count: 1.0k

A/N: this is my submission for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event 💜 just a short fic as I get back into writing. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

You’re sure Bucky doesn’t even realise that he’s doing it, but it signals as clearly as if he had shot up a flare that he needs you.

The fingers of his flesh hand fiddle with the metal of his dog tags absentmindedly, nervously, and you can see by the distant gaze of his eyes that he has completely checked out of the conversation.

In all the time you have known Bucky, you’ve been aware of his short social battery, and though some people in your life put it down as him being ‘grumpy’, you know the real root cause is much deeper than him simply liking to keep to himself.

Making your way across the room, eyes watching him retreat even further into himself and turning over the dog tag with his fingers with every additional input of the conversation he had been involved with, your heart descends deeper into the cavernous pit his clear suffering is carving into your stomach.

You know Bucky well enough that he’ll suffer through this internal anguish because he thinks you want to stay at this gathering with your friends, rather than coming to find you right away so you can both retreat into the comfort of your shared apartment.

But you’re not about to let him endure this torment for a second longer.

“Hey guys, sorry to interrupt.” You cut across the active conversation, putting your arm around Bucky’s waist, snuggling up to his side, really not that remorseful about disturbing their discussion when you know the outcome will relieve your love of his pain. “My tummy isn’t feeling that great, Buck, do you mind taking me home?”

There is relief mixed with genuine concern for you in his baby blues when these words come out of your mouth that somehow make you love him even more - he’s currently bearing the brunt of his own pain for you, but the moment you mention a made up illness he’s more worried about your health than his own.

Bucky’s arms snake around you, finally releasing his fidgeting hold on his dog tags, as he places a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Of course my love.” Bucky says, only letting you go for a brief moment as you both say proper goodbyes to your friends, before he intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you out the door to start the short walk to your apartment.

It’s chilly outside the restaurant, a soft breeze making you shiver, and Bucky doesn’t hesitate to shrug off his jacket and place it around your bare shoulders.

Ever the gentleman your thoughtful, doting boyfriend is.

“Do you think it was something you ate?” It’s genuinely sweet how naive he can be sometimes, but you are also aware that it comes from a place of trauma where his brain can’t make the connection that anyone would do something selflessly for him simply because they love him.

“Bucky, I’m feeling fine.”

“But your tummy.”

“I could see you had used all of your social battery, and I know you don’t like to be the reason we leave places early, so I made it up.” He stops dead in the street. There’s a moment, a couple short breaths, when Bucky simply looks at you with wide, affectionate eyes, as if it’s taking him a moment to process what you have done for him.

“You made it up?” It’s not an accusatory tone, instead one that almost sounds astonished. You nod with a small smile. “So I didn’t have to be the reason we left?”

“Mhmm. I only want to be out places when we both want to be there. There is no reason for you to feel uncomfortable and have to endure that for me.” You caress his cheek, feeling the stubble on his jaw as he leans into your gentle touch.

“But darling-” He starts, but you trace your thumb over his bottom lip as a distraction and to interrupt, not to be rude, but to show Bucky you don’t play when it comes to his safety and comfort.

“No buts Buck. We’re in this together, you and me. If the roles were reversed, and you knew I was feeling out of place like that, would you have let me stay?”

His lips curl inward slightly, involuntarily, in a way you have come to know occurs when he doesn’t want to admit he’s in the wrong. Without speaking, with just a grateful look that communicates more than he could articulate with words, he kisses you ardently in the middle of the sidewalk.

“You don’t have to hide how you feel from me. I love every part of you, even the parts you try hiding away from the world. You’re safe with me.” Placing your hand on his chest, his eyes regard you with adoration - you’re not sure what thoughts are racing through his mind, but you can see the cogs turning behind his pupils.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Bucky, when are you going to learn that unconditional love means no strings attached? You deserve to be loved wholeheartedly for exactly who you are. And I promise to do just that, for the rest of my life.” You can feel his heartbeat quicken underneath the pads of your fingers.

He encompasses your hand in both of his, leans forward and speaks with a low tone, for your ears only.

“I love you too. I promise, I’m really gonna try to do better with communicating how I feel. Old habits are hard to break, but I really would do anything for you.”

With that, Bucky pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, like you’re his sturdy anchor grounding him as he tries to navigate the choppy, rough sea which has been his life. As you continue home, the weight of the evening slips away, replaced by the comforting feeling that regardless how traumatic his life has been up until now, you would always be a safe place for him to come back home to.

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[cheyisagirlkisser]

Ellie crushing on her best friend's mom ..

And she doesn't even try to hold herself from letting herself leaning right into your touch. Her eyes still lock strongly with yours, as if she was a puppy that's completely entranced and taken by the soft caresses of its owner.

"I..I need you, m-ma'am." she whispers, barely above a breath, and it was so desperately needy.

warnings: age gap (ellie in her 20s), needy and desperate sub! ellie / indifferent and teasing dom! reader, ownership kink, thigh-riding, orgasm denial, mentions of ellie's fantasies about reader, infidelity, reader has some type of avoidance or issues with her guilt happening, slight angst(?)

a/n: i don't usually like writing age gaps so i tried to make it obvious that they are both adults and i also don't imagine ellie to be a freshman or sophomore with a milf! i did find this request really unique, though. anon should write because that is a lovely prompt.

And she doesn't even try to hold herself from letting herself leaning right into your touch. Her eyes still lock strongly with yours, as if she was a puppy that's completely entranced and taken by the soft caresses of its owner.

"I..I need you, m-ma'am." she whispers, barely above a breath, and it was so desperately needy....

Your hands cup her face, strong and loving. A touch not of lust, not pure sexual desire, but rather an emotional need that begs to be quenched. That scares you a bit. Your daughter isn’t home, but Ellie sure is. 

“Do you think about me, the way I think about you?” Ellie asks, sounding particularly uncertain. 

You simply smile, an expression similar to Ellie’s gaze that doesn’t reveal much. “Why, do I think of you as my owner?” You question, and Ellie’s heart squeezes within the confines of her ribs. 

“No, not that! I mean..Do you crave me, too?” With a voice but a whisper, Ellie looks up at you between the fans of her lashes. 

Of course, you dance around it all. Perhaps you’re scared to fully close the distance, as if getting this close to your dear daughter’s best friend isn’t bad enough. The answer that follows is one that Ellie cannot be surprised by, but she can’t be disappointed at your avoidance, not when your thumb applies itself over the softness of her cheek, just barely grazing over her jaw. 

“Sure, I crave you. Are you going to give me what I want?” You lean in as you speak. Ellie’s self control is limited. 

A college-age thing is what Ellie is. Not inexperienced, but starved and needy for a touch of a hand from a mind that knows how to actually control her. Most girls within her dorms would fuck her and dip, sad truth. You talk in pretentious rhymes, touch her with just grazes and soft affections, so aggravating and yet, she finds herself visiting you when your daughter is unaware. 

With such limited self control, you can’t be neither offended nor surprised when this freckled face leans in, and your stomach internally coils with a dose of need when she hesitates in her journey to imprint the lines of her lips onto yours. It’s a need that differs from Ellie’s, one that isn’t as impatient. Yours begs your fingers to soak themselves with her nectar, and it wishes to ruin her. 

“C-Can I kiss you now?” Ellie asks pleadingly. “Please?”

The disappointing thing should be that you don’t say yes, or even throw an ounce of enthusiasm towards her. In a way, it sets her insides on fire. A sick part of Ellie likes the neglect on your behalf. Still, she finds herself leaning, leaning even closer into your space, and finally allowing herself to feel what she has hoped to experience after ages of perverse courtship. 

Your kiss isn’t comparable to her past in any way, shape, or form–you possess her mouth with an intensity that leaves her gasping for oxygen from the start. It is far from the sweet, tender peck high school crushes offered up to her, and truly opposite from drunken, sloppy make-outs on dirty dorm couches. Your lips seem to wrap around or embed themselves against each of hers, giving separate attention before the pink, wet muscle Ellie has dreamed of feeling buried between her freckled thighs delves between her plush lips to seek out her tongue, though it may be tied. 

It is all too soon when you pull away, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. Ellie feels a slight sense of satisfaction upon seeing you breathless. She is far too used to your indifference to the point where she finds herself surprised that you exhibit any vulnerability, even if it is just a shortness of breath. It doesn’t leave her any less in need of you to own her, though. 

You sit on the couch behind you, and like Pavlov’s dog, Ellie crawls into your lap. Ellie, the same Ellie in boot-cut Levi’s and some worn hoodie, finds herself in the lap of you, a woman who only slips on skirts you’d typically find in an office, and heels Ellie wishes you’d crush her with. Ellie previously never cared to sit in a woman’s lap like a needy dog, but can’t seem to help herself. 

Right there on your couch, husband working to provide and your daughter back at her dorm room, you give Ellie the sensations she has been aching for. Her Levi’s are hap-hazardly thrown on the ground, and her panties are still on her. The fabric sticks to her sloppy, wet cunt as she drags it over the plush of your thigh. 

“U-Uh, huh..fuck me..” she breaths, hips shifting on you. You don’t miss the way her eyes glaze over, the lids sliding over her eyes, twitching in explicable need. 

“Fuck you? That’s pretty vulgar, Ellie.” You playfully scold, your affectionate hold on her hips dragging the one thing she is thinking with onto over your thigh. Her clit.

“Jus’ make me so needy, can’t help it.” She whines in your ear, heating up the cartilage. 

She can’t figure out why, but you allow Ellie to rut herself against your leg like it’s her lifeline. You’ve got this slick smile plastered on your face, and she doesn’t comment on it. In truth, she is scared that one wrong word or question of “what are we doing? Will we do this again? Is this more than just teasing and cumming?” will force you to flee. She imagines you so fragile in your feelings for her, only letting your guard down and allowing yourself to actually fuck and own her will cause a quake in the Earth. 

“You’re close.” You state, and the simplicity of it makes Ellie softly moan. The sound travels from your ears, between your brain, and straight down to your own cunt. 

“Gonna make a mess on your thigh with my cum, mhmm..” Ellie bites her lip to hold back from moaning too loudly, not wanting any neighbors to wonder why the sounds are erupting from your lovely house at four in the afternoon. 

The intense feeling of something bubbling up inside of her most desperate places, like a witches’ cauldron right before it boils over, is exactly what Ellie feels. She is right on the edge of something she believes to be exactly what she needs, and the start to maybe someday feeling your touch on her bare pussy, or at least dragging the soaked thing along your thigh for a second time. Instead, she is left empty-handed, and utterly humiliated. 

“Okay, okay. That’s enough.” You say, hands unfortunately slipping away from her janky hips. Ellie swallows her disappointment down in a wretched lump, awkwardly swinging one leg over and situating herself on the couch beside you. Her clit jumps from just seeing you, the red of your cheeks you can’t hide with verbal denial or a schooled expression. 

“I’ve got a comp essay to write. See you later, ma'am.” Ellie mumbles, not really thinking about whether or not you can hear it. She grabs her jeans, zipping up the metal teeth, and then laces up her converse. Her guess is that you pretend not to hear her, not uttering a single word. 

Outside of the door, Ellie wonders what it is that makes you the way you are. You want to have her, and you were so close to fully letting go. Perhaps it’s the guilt; you’re a married woman, afterall. Ellie is your daughter’s best friend, for Christ’s sake. She should feel guilty. Her ribs ache at the thought that she isn’t feeling what is morally right, but the haunting thoughts of your touch on her body leave her mind clouded. 

She wishes that she could be even half as casual as you are. 

taglist: @kaykeryyy i know you like getting tagged on ellie fics, so enjoy!

[goodlucktai]

could you please do 29 for dialouge prompts, leo and donnie?

dialogue prompts

29. “Tell me where it hurts, and be specific.”

x

When they were little, Donatello’s twin was his translator. 

Donnie was the last of the turtles to start talking—though the first to start reading and writing and dismantling kitchen appliances—and no amount of coercion or bribery or outright begging was enough to get a single word out of him in English or Japanese before he was good and ready. 

Splinter was in over his head already just by having four unplanned children to raise who were not even the same species as him. He fretted about his sons’ health and their development in those early years, and had absolutely no one he could turn to for regular parenting advice, let alone advice on what was and was not normal for mutant turtle children. 

He tells the story now with a rueful good humor granted only by hindsight and a decade and a half of distance, but at the time, Donatello refusing his second meal in a row while blinking silently in face of his father’s increasingly worried questions probably would have driven Splinter to tear his fur out if not for the contribution made by Donnie’s talkative striped shadow. 

“It’s the, uh, the red things, daddy,” Leo piped up. “He doesn’t like those.” 

Splinter blinked at him, and then down at the plate Donnie was refusing to so much as look at it. 

“The tomatoes?” he said. 

“Tomatoes,” Leo parroted. “They’re hard outside and squishy inside. He doesn’t like things like that. And they touched everything else so all of it is no good now!”

Never having considered that texture, of all things, could be the issue—and kicking himself for it—Splinter scrambled a fresh pair of eggs for his stubborn little softshell. He skipped the cherry tomatoes, and sliced a bell pepper instead that he made sure to put on the opposite side of the portioned plastic plate. 

Donnie sniffed his fresh plate of plain eggs suspiciously, but it passed his inspection. He crunched into a piece of bell pepper so eagerly that he must have been hungry. Splinter sank back in his chair with an exhale that left him feeling like a deflated balloon. 

Leo, eating the discarded tomatoes out of Donnie’s original breakfast, giggled at him. He was the first of Splinter’s babies to start speaking, and the sound of his bright voice tripping eagerly over clumsy human words rarely failed to coax a smile out of his father. 

“Thank you, baby,” he said, poking Leo on the edge of his beak and earning himself another peal of bubbly laughter. “I’m glad one of us speaks Purple’s language or I might have set us up for failure big-time.”

“‘Course I do! ‘Cause we’re twins!” Leo said, with only half an idea what the word meant, but happy for any reason to be one of a pair with his best friend. Donnie knew very well what the word meant and simply nodded along, because he was happy, too. 

Now that they’re older, and Donatello no longer needs a translator, he finds himself returning the favor instead. Leo is far from nonverbal—Leo talks too much—but he hardly ever actually says anything. He can pontificate and harangue and lecture to lengths of absolute absurdity without giving a single word of substance away that he doesn’t want to give away. 

Donnie can read him like a book. Like one of his favorite books that he doesn’t actually have to read, because he knows every page by heart. 

The summer after the world didn’t end, Donnie’s twin becomes someone unfamiliar. 

He’s self destructive in ways that aren’t immediately obvious. He seeks out things that scare him, lingering above the death drop an extra second even though he’s been afraid of heights since he was fourteen. 

It’s obvious that he’s trying to train himself out of weakness. No more childish fears, no more lazy Sunday mornings, no more silly Nardo. 

Raph and Mikey have clocked it, too, in their own ways. At first Raph was pleasantly surprised when Leo beat him to the dojo for training, ribbing him amicably when he was also the last to leave. But then Leo started turning down Mario Kart tournaments and ninja tag in favor of shutting himself away and working working working to correct an internal ugliness that just doesn’t exist. Mikey’s used to being the exception to every rule, used to arms opening for him wherever he goes, and the way his sweet, sunny smile slips every time Leo talks around joining him on the sofa for Kitchen Nightmares reruns—or explains away why he’s skipping dinner���is one of the worst things Donnie’s ever seen. 

At the very least, Leonardo doesn’t lie to Donatello’s face. He’s stopped looking him in the eye altogether. 

You’re not going anywhere without me, Donnie thinks at him, ready to dig in his heels and fight like hell. 

It’s hard to say how long it would have gone on, but one late night Leo limps home from a solo patrol and Donnie is waiting for him, arms folded, tolerance for foolishness nonexistent. 

“What, are you tracking me?” Leo jokes half-heartedly. And then, when Donnie doesn’t blink, he adds, “Wait, actually?”

“Don’t waste my time with questions we both know the answer to,” Donnie says, and points Leo directly towards the medbay. Leo, who had been angled toward the bathroom instead, likely because he can close the door and suffer in private with no one the wiser, sighs loudly and course-corrects. 

The overhead lights in the medbay hum to life when Donnie flips the switches. Leo looks over his shoulder to gauge how far those lights have traveled past the open door, restless with wondering if he’s going to have to save face in front of someone else. 

All of this? All this behavior? Donnie hates this. 

Larger-than-life Leonardo seems smaller as he boosts himself up onto the edge of the bed. The infirmary is the one place he never puts on airs, the one place he takes seriously because his family’s health and safety has never once been a punchline to him. He peels off all his false layers at the door. He’s back to not meeting Donnie’s eyes. 

“Tell me where it hurts, and be specific,” Donatello says. 

“Your bedside manner could use some work,” Leonardo replies. His attempt at wily good humor limps along a lot like he had limped through the front door, like the least funny thing in the world. “That’s why between the two of us I’m the team medic.”

“And I’m two minutes from pulling the fire alarm and making this a house party,” Donnie says frankly. His tone isn’t gentle, isn’t quite angry. He’s somewhere in the middle, gentleness and anger fighting for the spot that affection has never once surrendered and never once will. 

He hates the way his twin’s eyes get wet, staring down at his own knees, knuckles stark white and standing out like a string of pearls where his hands are bunched in the thin blanket he’s sitting on. He hates that it’s come to this, the quiet of midnight in the medbay, one of the brightest lights in Donnie’s life dimmed and miserable and so clearly struggling. It’s laughable that Leo really thought he could have hidden it forever. 

Donnie sits beside him on the bed and says, “What if I quit?”

The non-sequitur takes Leo by surprise. He was clearly expecting a full frontal assault and glances sideways at Donnie briefly. 

“Quit what?”

“My bad, I should have been more specific,” Donnie allows. “I meant, what if I quit being a ninja? I have better things I could be doing, and I don’t like getting hurt.” Leo is staring at him fully now, totally bewildered. Flabbergasted, even. It melts some of the sternness Donnie has been careful to shore up for this conversation. “Would you love me less?” he asks. 

It would have been kinder if Donnie had slapped him. “Don’t say that,” Leo says, barely any air behind it. 

“Are you more capable than I am?” Donnie steamrolls on. “Are you better than me?”

“Of course not. I don’t think—I didn’t say—”

“Then why do you have to be perfect if I don’t?” Donnie presses the advantage ruthlessly. “Why aren’t you allowed to struggle and doubt and spectacularly fuck up every now and then without raking yourself over the coals for it?” 

Leo glances over at the door automatically, like Raph is going to be summoned by the bad word. He’s sixteen, he’s just sixteen, Donnie wants to scream it loud enough that those resistance fighters in Casey’s future could hear him, the ones who thought it was a halfway decent idea to put a child in charge. 

Earlier Donnie thought that Leo looked smaller here. Now he thinks he can tell by looking how much weight his twin has lost since June. There’s a deficit of Leonardo in this world and his whole family is feeling it keenly. 

Raph wants to scoop Leo off the sofa when he stays up too late and tuck him into bed, wants to listen to Leo filling the comms with chatter on those nights when patrol stretches long and dull. Raph misses his little brother, the gossipy, gangly, growing up little turtle that Raph used to be allowed to carry everywhere.

Mikey wants to bicker over who gets to play Sonic in Smash Bros and eat cookies while they’re still hot from the oven with the person he admires so much, who taught him all the best cheats in Smash Bros and that fresh sugar cookies in the falling apart stage, pre-icing, are better than ones that have cooled. 

‘Sometimes you gotta get burned to get results,’ ten-year-old Leo had announced, but he was always the one who lifted the cookies off the sheet pan, he never let Mikey burn his fingers.  

That goofy, clever kid who was always getting them all into trouble and talking their way out of it again is worth a thousand made-up Master Leonardos. 

Leo keeps his face lowered, shoulders hunched, because he knows what he’ll see if he scrapes together the courage to meet Donnie’s gaze. He’ll see the love blazing in his twin’s face like one of those digital billboards towering above Times Square, and somehow he’s convinced himself he doesn’t deserve it. 

Donnie doesn’t give a damn what Leo has decided he deserves. Donnie’s going to love him anyway, on purpose, whether he likes it or not. If Leo wants to grow up so badly, then he can stop acting like a kid pushing vegetables around on his plate and swallow the truth. 

It’s okay if he doesn’t grow up yet. They can be kids awhile longer. It’ll be like when they were babies, when Donatello would rather go hungry than stomach certain foods. Leo never let Donnie sit alone at the breakfast table, keeping him cheerful, babbling company, even when their brothers had moved off to play. 

This time Leo is the picky eater, willing to go hungry and sit alone at the table. But Donnie learned from the best. He's returning the favor.

Donnie isn’t going anywhere without Leo, either.

[ressjeon]

for the drabble event i wanted to ask if you could

jjk

eros + pragma

row 3+seat 1

chips + bottled water + slushie

i’m so excited and i can’t wait to see how you’ll write it,, i’ve never requested something before and youre one of my favorite authors <3

pairing: roommate!jungkook x fuckgirl!reader

summary: the normal way of trapping your adorable roommate in your allure has been leading to nowhere, prompting you to approach him in subtle ways until you become irresistible in his eyes.

genre/au: angst, smut, roommate!au, college!au

warnings/content: explicit sexual content, jealousy, free use?fingering, doggy, backshots, angry sex? humiliation cuz kookie's mean :(

a/n: it's been 3 years since you've requested this anon and for that i apologize. i hope you'll still manage to see/read this now though and thank you for requesting! i'm honoured to be one of your favourite authors <3

☞ part of @btsgoldnetwork’s two hearts, one love valentine’s day event in 2022 🎞💓

🍿 bangtan theatre presents: irresistible 🍿 purchases for movie tickets and snacks are now closed!

Jungkook’s confused when he gets a whiff of another sweet scent coming from across his room. For about two weeks now, he noticed his roommate lighting up scented candles and placing them around their shared apartment.

Which is pretty random because you never do things like this. 

He’s wondering what brought you to start using scented candles when you didn't have the slightest interest in it before. Jungkook tried giving you one as a welcome gift when you first became roommates but you never even touched it until these days.

“where did you buy this one?”

You're startled with your roommate's question. It’s the first conversation you have with him regarding your current obsession. He's never acknowledged it verbally although you remember him scrunching his nose when you wore your bold perfume once before going on a date.

“i’m not sure to be honest, it’s a gift”

It is; only one of the many that you received from your long string of admirers. They were hoping that you'll see them more often through these gifts after you expressed your “love” of scented candles.

When in fact, it’s for your gorgeous roommate. 

You’re aware of Jungkook’s fondness for smells and after the direct flirting on him didn't work, you resorted to this. Using those boys for your agenda didn't really impose any guilt within you. They're exactly the same type as you but thankfully, they're pussy whipped that it was so easy to weave them into your plans on getting your roommates attention.

After you realize your fondness and interest are turning into serious feelings for Jungkook, you've expressed your feelings to him as clearly as you could. However, you didn't know how to approach him after his subtle rejections on your usual method.

Your feelings for Jungkook genuinely bloomed that you've stopped bringing guys over even when he's not home. It's a basic rule to respect each other's boundaries; the both of you having an agreement where only one can bring someone over when the other is not home.

Sometimes, Jungkook catches the boys coming out from your room, nodding at them in greeting but then ignores you afterwards. You tried whisking it as him being awkward seeing some people knew knows. Many times, you've contemplated on breaching the subject but he's barely home anyway. When he does, you flirt with him to see if he still gets flustered. He does and when he's in a pleasant mood though, he greets you and you relish them because it's rare.

Just like his smiles.

Jungkook wants to ask who gave those gifts but he already knows. He didn’t need to see the fancy paper bags on the counter to guess where those candles came from. It's given by those boys you’ve been seeing lately, if it's from the same person or multiple people, he's not sure and he doesn't want to find out.

What he's sure of is your reputation. He's aware of you because your popularity even reaches to other universities nearby. You've built your reputation since the start of freshman year so he was a bit hesitant in accepting you as a roommate before.

Another thing he's aware of is that you never take boys seriously hence he’s been wary each time you flirt with him. It seems so natural to you while he gets flustered. You find his reactions amusing though, as if you can’t tell that you do have an effect on him more than you think you do.

"you look great today kookie"

"we should do a movie night!"

"jungkook you're so adorable"

All your attempts at luring him went into dust and you can't figure out why. He can tell from your face each time he doesn't respond to you and does feel bad but he had to. Like a typical scenario, Jungkook did develop feelings for you no matter how much he tried avoiding so. He went as far as focusing on things that hurt him to reduce whatever he feels for you but to no avail and it scared him. He didn’t want to be one of those guys that you drop after sleeping with them.

However, he’s been getting better than before, reaching as far as rejecting you directly.

"you really think i'd believe that you out of all people, like me" he points to himself exaggeratedly but that's not what concerns you.

It's his eyes that are full of loathing after hearing your confession. He just arrived from one of his late lectures to find you preparing dinner for the two of you with a big smile on your face. He didn't read too much into it because you could just be hungry. Although, he should've because your full confession was something that he didn't anticipate.

“what do you mean? come on kookie, why don’t you believe me?” your voice came out a bit whiny when you realized that he's dead serious.

"what? you think i'll give in quickly?"

Maybe it's his ego talking but seeing the uncertainty in your face boosts his confidence a bit. Jungkook doubts other guys were able to make you react this way. He's the first and he'll hold out as long as he can. You've been making it pretty difficult lately but he still can't trust you.

"that was never my intention. i genuinely like you, kook"

"no? didn't you wanna sleep with me? be honest" he barks, crossing his muscular arms across his chiseled chest, challenging you to deny it.

"i-i do but—" you admit, shying your eyes away from his intense gaze.

This confrontation was last on your bingo card for this month. You just wanted to try again, confessing your feelings like a normal person even though it's not something that you're used to. But here Jungkook is, breaking your heart into pieces like none of those ever mattered to him.

"let's just get this over with" he suddenly says after a few minutes of silence and you didn't even get to process what he's saying cause he's suddenly on you.

Jungkook closes in as he focuses on your lips. Your lips that he wanted to kiss since that morning he found you adorably tip-toeing in the hallways to not wake him up. He had back to back football practice back then along with deadlines that he was extra tired every night because of the lack of sleep.

You welcomed his lips with fervour, closing your eyes and clutching his wrist when he grabbed your jaw to tilt it, deepening the kiss. Believe it or not, you used to dream of this, going as far as imagining that it's Jungkook when you're kissing other guys.

His kisses are harsh, with lots of teeth clashing and he's biting your lower lip for you to grant him entrance in which you did. Jungkook just wants his mind to shut off, to drown in you for once without second guessing his moves and yours.

For all he knows, you could only be playing with him but Jungkook doesn't care about that now. It's funny because it was you who initially pursued him and this time it's him. Jungkook will be damned if he doesn't make sure that he'll be the best you'd ever had. Never mind that you've fucked many guys before; he doesn't even wanna think if you will still fuck other guys after he's done with you.

You've basically given Jungkook free reign, looking at him with glossy eyes as you kneel by the couch after he releases you. Looking at you now, you look behaved while waiting for him. Jungkook could walk away right now to end this, to get back at you real bad but it's too late.

He's held back for too long and he feels like he's going to explode. All his mind can think of is how he's finally got you where you wanted to be. Letting himself go just for tonight would solve something, he's hoping.

Whatever the consequences are after this.

Jungkook doesn't make a move as he undresses, his piercing gaze eyeing you while you're finishing up discarding your clothes. You gauge what he's thinking, only that his pupils have dilated as he scans your bare body.

"why kookie what's wrong? you don't want me to suck you off? come here" you call him invitingly, batting your lashes at him but unlike other boys, Jungkook remains unaffected.

Or maybe not.

"no, you don't deserve it. why would you be?" he goads you and you're left speechless as you stand back up, climbing on the couch in all fours to entice him. "because i like you?" your voice came out quietly, full of desperation, looking back to hopefully catch his eyes.

Jungkook only scoffs as a response, the heel of his large palm pressing the top of your ass to push your body down until you're fully lying on the couch.

"like me? ah yes. but you like many guys y/n, like them enough to fuck them right?" he replies with a menacing tone and once again, you're left trying to process what he means by his questions but that flutters away when the tips of fingers runs along your drenching slit.

He's teasing you of course, he already said you didn't deserve to suck his cock earlier so maybe he'll only give you his fingers. It doesn't matter; it's the furthest you've ever had with Jungkook intimately so you'll just accept whatever he gives you.

Jungkook's waiting until he hears any complaint from you but it's been more than a minute and you've remained except for the heavy breaths you let out the longer he keeps his ministrations on you. He enters one finger to test your tight walls but also to see what you're playing at.

Another finger after a while and you're getting impatient no matter how much you coach yourself that Jungkook's just taking his time with you. When he pushes in the third one, that's when your body jerks, pushing back against his hand.

"there you go. thought i'd have to wait longer" he snickers, increasing the speed of his fingers. "kook—" you whine, unable to hold back your moans anymore.

Then Jungkook stops you by removing his fingers all together.

"up" he instructs and despite your frustrations, you did raise your body, going back on your knees. You didn't want to turn back now just in case you annoy him, wiggling your ass to give him a sign that you're more than ready for his cock.

Jungkook planned to fuck you in the previous position but it's too intimate. Even when he can't see your face, you'd still be so close to his body and it'll crack his barriers. He'd love to fuck you while seeing your face but that would allow you to see how vulnerable he is around you.

"jungkook..please move" you immediately cry out once he pushed in because he stayed still. You're tempted to grind back, your sensitive walls have been clamping around his dick, adjusting to his size that made him grip on your hips tightly.

"who says you can demand anything from me? you're lucky i'm giving you what you want." he spits but he begins moving his hips, ruthless unlike you've imagined before.

Jungkook's wrong. Everything is the opposite of what you wanted. He's barely even touching you, hands never moving from your waist just to hold you steady. Your brain's clouded with the pleasure that he's giving so you focus on that instead; relishing the tightness of his hold depending on his mood.

"kookie—fuck" you scream out when he finally angles his hip, hitting that soft spot inside you that you couldn't help but reach back to grasp his hand. He swats it away and you whine out, he's clearly displeased but maybe this is a way for him to believe you.

Jungkook doesn't want any ounce of affection from you. He's supposed to be mad, well he is, fully enraged with his insecurity that he's never been good enough for you. Plus, he'd be lying to himself that he was never jealous with all those guys you brought over. It's the reason he never stays home long, to avoid seeing them with you but he still did.

He's liked you for months already, showing his affections by cooking you breakfast and doing most of the chores when you're out with your friends or at parties. He never complained even when you started flirting with him, dodging you as much as he could because you're doing it to toy with him.

"just take it will you? acting like you've never had cocks in you before..." he drawls as he speeds up, leaving you mewling with tears welling in your eyes at the wave of humiliation that crashes on you.

You're back to gripping the leather couch when his fingertips brushes your swollen clit, flicking the bud after and you almost came.

But you didn't. Jungkook made sure of that.

All night he repeats teasing and fucking you endlessly until your body convulses, only stopping and doing it again. For a moment, you almost forgot who you're fucking with the amount of stamina that he has. Although you did fuck many athletes before, Jungkook still surprised you with his self control.

"no more.." your voice is hoarse with all the nonstop screaming and thankfully Jungkook stops his ministrations. "n-no, no i wanna cum, please kookie~"

"mhmm..shit..okay"

He's not faring well either but you could barely tell when all you can hear are his deep guttural moans and the skin slapping echoing around. You're both very sweaty but Jungkook's large hands miraculously maintained their grip on your body. Eventually, you both reach your climaxes, having Jungkook pull out and finish on your back to your dismay.

"wanted..inside.." you mumble, nuzzling the couch's arm. You only hear a tsk from him before you feel a piece of clothing rubbing along your sweaty skin. You've closed your eyes at the comfort but tried opening them when he turned your body around.

Then the combination of the mind blowing orgasm and exhaustion knocked you off to sleep. 

You've woken up sore everywhere but it doesn't compare to the ache in your heart when you couldn't see Jungkook anywhere in the living room. You don't even wanna try to get up or call his name in case he's inside his bedroom. He's not but you'd like to hope because of last night.

He took care of you, providing you with your own blanket and pillows after cleaning you up. Thankfully, you had no early lectures today; you were pretty much spent so the energy for attending classes is at total zero.

Not going is a more tempting option for you though, the chance to see Jungkook is high with how involved he is on campus. He's quite popular as well but not on the same type as you which was how he possibly found out this much about your history. You've met other girls who've hooked up with him before, telling you how he's actually more on the subby side which further increases your interest on your roommate.

You blink, realizing you're smiling at the memory.

Reminiscing those memories before you fucked him won't help you at this point. Jungkook for sure hates you now because you proved him right, using your tactics on him so he'll sleep with you. Both you and him did make the decision yes but he probably agreed in order to stop you from pestering him further.

The wise move for you is to forget this ever happened and move out but you won't. You'll prove to Jungkook how serious you are on him no matter how long that may take. You can still fix this you believe; you're never gonna give up on him unless you hear that direct rejection from his pretty lips.

e/n: i haven't really written the loml for almost 2 years now so if it sounds or feels different then that's why 😂 i've been missing him a lot tho so here we are :D

[captain-huggy-bear]

"How dare you talk about my future husband like that…"

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Clayton is feeling self conscious about his eye since his injury, you are not having any of it.

Notes: I've been noticing that Clay's still got some bloodshot and damage to his eye and just wondered if he feels a little self conscious about it (even though he shouldn't because he's so handsome.)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Clayton is staring at himself in the hallway mirror when you get home from running some errands. Turning this way and that, long fingers pulling at the skin around his left eye where it’s still somewhat bruised and swollen. The eye that is still bloodshot and damaged from the puck he took to the face a few weeks ago. It’s been a slow to heal problem, one he seemed to not be bothered by, until now.

When he lets out a rough, heavy sigh and glances over at you with a frown, you know somethings wrong before he even starts to speak. It’s all in the set of his shoulders, in the downturn of his mouth, the way he’s not smiling at seeing you back home.

"I look fucking awful right now." 

The comment has you dropping your shopping bags to the floor, not caring too much about your shopping, hands falling to rest on your hips as you glare at your boyfriend. Your handsome, wonderful boyfriend who had just dared to call himself anything but. 

"Take that back right now." Clay rolls his eyes at you, at the harsh tone of your voice and the way you’re standing like a disapproving parent. He knows he looks awful and doesn’t want your pity, his eye looks like someone’s burst it and the skin around is all weird mottled colours, sickly yellows and greens. It’s ugly. Disgusting. He’s surprised you’ve been able to stand looking at him the past few weeks and he doesn’t want your pity, your false reassurances. 

"But, I do, my eye is so fucking messed up still...fucking ugly." The words are spat out, like they taste bad and they certainly leave a bad taste in your mouth as you close the short distance between the two of you, hands falling to his wrist, landing over his bracelets as you tug until he looks at you. Your thumb brushing against the delicate skin of his wrist. 

Some of your anger, your bite is gone the moment he looks at you because he’s so…so sad, you can tell that Clayton genuinely feels like his eye is ugly, like the bruising, the bloodshot nature of it all, makes him any less wonderful. You’re not used to him being self conscious or sad, he’s always so level headed. It’s usually you in his spot and him in yours.

"How dare you talk about my future husband like that…" Your voice doesn’t have any of the bite that it might have done a few minutes ago, in fact your voice is quiet and soft as you look up at him. Your hand slips from his wrist, fingers twining with his to hold his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Y/N..." He groans low in his throat, deep and scratchy, head tilting and falling to his shoulder. He doesn’t believe you, you can tell, he thinks you’re just trying to make him feel better and that’s just not on. 

A strand of his hair falls forward from where it had been slicked back, you reach up with your free hand to push it back and out of the way, taking the opportunity to cup his face after, fingers rubbing at the skin around his eye gently. 

"I mean it. You're not ugly, it's not possible. The only thing I think when I see your eye is that I hope you're not in pain..." That’s all you’d been concerned about for the past 3 weeks, that Clay was comfortable, that every time you kissed him you weren’t causing him more pain. The idea that he wasn’t as handsome had never even crossed your mind. You’re not actually sure it’s possible for Clay to be anything but handsome.

“You don’t have to say stuff to make me feel better, baby…it’s okay, it’s ugly and it’s fine.” 

“Clayton John Keller.” You snap out, hand cupping his cheek more firmly and turning his eyes to look at you, really look at you as you step further into his personal space, “Stop assuming i’m lying. I have never lied to you, not once.” It’s something you’ve never felt the need to do around Clay, even when you first started dating…it didn’t matter how bad the situation, you knew that Clay wouldn’t judge you or yell at you, so you’d never felt that panic, that need to hide anything from him and you certainly weren’t going to lie about this. “You could lose an eye, you could have bruises across your entire face, a broken nose, split lip, and I would still think you’re the most handsome man on this planet, Clayton Keller and I am not lying about that.”

“C’mon, baby, you can’t seriously tell me that this,” Clay gestures to his eye, to the big red blood spot across his sclera, “is attractive?” 

“Why not? I…” He raises an eyebrow at you when you stop yourself short and you work up the bravery inside you to admit something you’ve kept quiet, “I actually think…this makes me a terrible person by the way and I'm sorry, but I actually think you look hotter injured.” You close your eyes tight, scrunching up your features, before opening one eye to check his reaction.

“What?” He’s stumped, looking at you like you just told him the president was an alien or that chocolate was actually made from insects. Clay’s mouth is open, jaw dropped just slightly, brows furrowed, blue eyes confused and it’s adorable, even if you feel embarrassed about your confession. 

“Look, I know it makes me a terrible person but there’s something about you covered in blood and bruises…” 

A smirk starts to grow on Clay’s face once your words sink in, the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen from him since walking through the front door. His blue eyes gleam with a sort of twisted delight, a mischief that makes your stomach buzz with butterflies, as his dimples start to show on one side of his mouth. 

“...Is that why you practically jumped me after the Winnipeg game, sweet girl?” You don’t even realise he’s corralling you, moving you until your back hits the hallway wall and he’s leaning over you, forearm pressed against the wall beside your head. 

“Shut up…” You murmur it, unable to do much more as your body fills with giddy, nervous energy (the good kind), as your face warms and your toes curl because of how he’s looking at you, all half-lidded eyes and a toothy smirk that makes you want to scream like a teenage girl. How he ever thought he was ugly you can’t comprehend when he makes you feel like you’re combusting right now.

“...You still think I'm handsome?” It’s teasing, mischievious as he leans ever closer, until your only response is a high pitched giggle that gives you away because fuck, he’s so hot…you’re not sure how you nabbed him, what made him pick you of all people, but you’re thankful for whatever convinced him you were the one.

“Baby? Do you think i’m handsome?” He asks again because apparently your giggles aren’t enough of an answer or more accurately because he hates you and wants to torture you even as he smiles down at you all dimples and teeth.

“I always think you're handsome…especially when you smile like that.” 

“C’mere,” It’s silly how he always says that, but he’s the one that moves towards you. Clay’s quick to close the distance between you, slanting his mouth over yours into a sweet but firm kiss, it lasts longer than you expect, long enough for your hands to make their way into his shoulder length strands, long enough for him to practically press you into the wall,  “Thanks for keeping me in check, baby,” He’s practically murmuring it against your lips, not pulling away any further than necessary and you consider this an achievement. That you’ve taken his mood from self conscious and dower, back to teasing and sweet, back to standard Clay. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Just know I'm never going to forget that you’re a little freak who thinks I'm hotter when I'm bloody.”

“Clay, I swear to God!”

[blue-jisungs]

hi!!!!! congrats on 8k!!! u deserve it so much ur writing is so amazing<3 for the little ask game, although it's not a word in your list, i thought about cats + piwon's jongseob!! i love cats, he loves cats and i love him so it's a Great combination in my opinion eheh if u dont wanna write w that word it's okay! and i choose glasses from ur list instead :3 thank u so much and i hope ur exams go well!!!!

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ THIS CAT LIKES HEAD SCRATCHES ! 🧸ྀི — you discover that your boyfriend resembles a cat … wbk though :3 ( wc 957 )

[ extras ] coffee mention + i decided to mention the glasses prompt and i had those ones in mind hehe 🙏 he just looked so cute wtf:(

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! AHHHH TYSM I REALLY APPRECIATE IT!!!!! thank u for the req bc it was really fun to write and i believe it’s my first seobi work too 🥹 i hope you enjoy it hehe <3 and my exams went well!!! tysm hehe <3 i still have one more to take but !! its gonna be okay i believe 🙏

@kstrucknet = ^-^ =

the wind is gentle against your face when you leave the coffee shop, and you wrap your scarf a little tighter around your neck. jongseob pulls you aside, not to block the entrance, and dives into his bag to look for headphones. you hold his drink and take a small sip. 

the vanilla flavor explodes on your tongue and you just grin, taking another sip of the sweet beverage. maybe he won’t notice–

“it’s a bit too sweet, to be honest. do you want to finish it?” he asks and you realize he’s been watching you, gaze amused from behind his glasses. the red oval frames cutely frame his face, almost distracting from the fact that you just got caught. 

“no, you can have it” you sigh and trade. he hands you one earphone, you give him the drink back. (it wasn’t too sweet, really. jongseob just said that so you could finish it without feeling guilty). you accept the earphone and put it in your left ear, grabbing his hand. 

“do you want to watch something once we get back?” he asks softly before putting on one of his rap playlists. you pucker your lips in thought and miss the way he smiles fondly at the sight.

“maybe… i still have to finish that one kdrama my friend recommended but i don’t really feel like it’ you say and start your journey back to the dorm. 

the music isn’t playing too loud - despite the energetic tune and some… unusual lyrics, it serves as a background to your conversation. jongseob intertwines fingers with yours, seeking a little more warmth on the chilly day. 

“maybe we can rewatch the maze runner…?” he offers and you just scoff. your boyfriend takes another sip of his vanilla cappuccino and hides a smile behind the cup. 

“again?” you laugh at the ridiculosity. “i’d rather watch… oh, i know! i know!” 

jongseob halts, the impact almost making you trip. 

“let’s watch old harmony adventure eps! please, please, please…! they are so funny… well, you are but…” you stop and trace where his gaze is. 

a cat. 

“wait, i want to take a picture” he hums and looks for his phone. the moment it’s in his hand, it almost gets yanked from the impact of you kneeling down. and the plugged earphone– 

jongseob manages to catch it and lets out a sigh of relief, your earphone dangling in the air. he started taking pictures of the brown colored feline hiding in the bushes. 

“how did you even notice it?” you ask, gently tapping your nails against the concrete to lure the cat.

“i just have a cat radar” he smirks and squats next to you, joining in your scheme. 

the cat’s big green eyes track your movements. jongseob looks around and notices a bin. 

“i’m just gonna finish it and throw it out” he says and drinks the coffee, doing as he said. 

meanwhile you successfully lure the cat, the feline approaching you carefully. it sniffs your hand, soft nose poking your skin. jongseob observes with a proud smile. 

the cat plops on its back, showing its white belly to you. 

with a loud whine, you start to pat its belly.

“seob, oh my god!” you mumble, pout forming on your lips. the fur is soft beneath your palm and your boyfriend joins you again, his hand petting the cat’s head. 

“do you think we can steal it?” he asks, hopeful sparkle in his eye. 

you bite your lip, looking at him. 

“i’m really gullible, you should stop making offers like that” you laugh and he just snickers, hand moving to pat its belly too. your fingers occasionally bump into each other, the cat’s loud purring making you chuckle. 

“no, really, what’s stopping us…?” your boyfriend mumbles to himself, adoring the pet’s happy face. 

“jongseob!” you whine, moving to scratch the cat’s chin. it stretches a bit, throwing its head back to give you better access to its chin and neck. “just like you…”

“i don’t purr” he grunts “and i am not a cat”

“mhm…” you decide to ignore his meows of protest “also, i think this cat isn’t a stray. it’s a little too friendly. and it’s cute underbelly tells me its being fed good at home”

“eh, you’re right” jongseob grunts and pats the white belly for the last time “let’s keep going then. before it’s too late”

“too late for what?” you ask, tilting your head. he just opens his bag widely, pretending as if he’s going to swoop the cat in. 

the street fills with your laughters and the cat stands up, startled. jongseob helps you stand up and dusts off your knees while you wave at the cat. 

“bye, kitty” you hum and grab your boyfriend’s hand again. and as you try to persuade him into watching harmony adventure, he keeps wondering when did you manage to change the playlist. 

once back at home, happily watching the content you wanted, jongseob is laying on your lap. his red glasses messily thrown on the nightstand, face buried in the warmth of the duvet covering your legs. 

you sneak your hand into his hair, massaging his scalp gently. one second he’s laughing at a joke he made, the other he’s groaning softly. 

“that feels nice…” he mewls, nuzzling his head. 

“yeah?” you ask with a grin. his limbs stretch a little and jongseob lets out a sigh of relief.

“m’yeah. keep doing that, please… oh, oh, here” he purrs in delight.

“not a cat, you say” you whisper quietly, not wanting him to hear. he doesn’t, luckily - and you decide to tease him about it later. something along the lines of ‘who needs a cat when i have you’.

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,,

@mon2sunjinsuver ,, @litepowee ,, @l3visbby

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Blabber Mouth; Anemo Men

x gn!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: February 9th, 2025

Description: Anemo version of Blabber Mouth

Notes: CW a few suprise pregnancies I put Wanderer in here, but I personally subscribe to trans-man Wanderer because why would Raiden give him a male body? Also, this series is slowly separating from the original prompt and I feel like I'm just making these kids psychic but shhh, babies

Hydro Dendro Cryo Pyro Anemo Electro Geo

Back to directory

Aether

Kids , he likes them but never really thought they were in his future

I mean, he’s always traveling with his sister, it’s not until Teyvat that he kind of settles down

Abyss!Aether or Traveler!Aether, they meet you and staying here doesn’t sound too bad

Your first is an accident, they make the decision for him

Not that he wanted to leave you anyways

Your second is planned, but your first born beats you to tell him

Aether comes back from wherever he was, helping Khaenri’ah, a commission, ruling the Abyssal Khaeri’ans, and your kid tackles him in a hug

Then, without you saying anything, they talk about reading a story to the baby

And you play mock offense thinking they were reading to you and Aether is trying to figure out what baby

You send your kid off to clean up their toys so you can talk

Aether drops to his knees and hugs your waist

Xiao

It’s not that he doesn’t want kids, he just doesn’t think about it because he doesn’t want another thing he can’t have

He can’t be around people normally, being around an infant? Bad idea

So, you’d have to be anything but a mortal, someone who can be around him despite his debt

Then, he gives it some thought and he’s still really not sure

It takes many conversations for him to see your side of things

Cries the first time he holds your baby

As your first grows up, he tries to figure out how to broach the subject of having another

You laugh when he finally gets it out, face red, and quickly apologize before saying another sounds nice

Your kid is very defensive, and they try defending you from one of the dogs around Wangshuu inn one day

When you ask what’s wrong, because normally the dogs aren't a problem, your kid says they saw the dog scare a baby the other day

Takes you both a second to figure out how that correlates and then it’s a trip to Baizhu

He cries, the first time it wasn’t real to him until he held the baby but this time it’s real from the start

Venti

You guys start talking about having kids, and he’s not even sure he can have them

Like, he’s a windspirit and sure he’s in human form but how far does that extend

So your first born is a bit of a surprise

But he’s so happy, sings to them all the time while your pregnant

He drinks less too, can’t be drinking at Angel’s share when he’s trying to wrangle the little whirlwind into bed

It’s one such night when your little one runs out of their room and into yours

They curl up with you in your bed, and Venti’s trying to convince them to sleep in their bed

They declare they want to sleep with their sibling

You stop reading/pretending to sleep, confused, and Venti just gives in

They make a good point, how could he pull such a protective big sibling away from their little sibling

Venti’s been around enough to know that children can just tell these things

So he just wraps you all up in his wings and you go to Barbara in the morning

If either of your kids are boys, he’s naming him after the nameless bard

Kazuha

Kids… he wants them, he doesn’t want his family line to end with him

But, it’s not really an option when he’s on the run

Once he returns to Inazuma though, he gives it more serious thought

Spending time in the forge, he sees kids run by a lot and watches their awe as they watch him

He brings it up to you, and you have your first born

We don’t know what his friend’s name is, but your first born is getting named after him

Even if he has to alter it a little bit

He likes to write poetry with your kid, it helps their vocabulary, creativity, and fine motor skills

You two also use it to encourage their self expression

So they express their excitement about the friend in your belly

That poem is getting framed, it makes you both laugh

Heizou

Likes playing with the kids in the city and around Ritou

Hasn’t really considered kids of his own

It’s not until he sees you with the kids that he starts thinking about it

I think your first is an accident, but his excitement even surprises him a bit

Not that he thought he wouldn’t be happy/excited

And your kid takes after their father’s investigative curiosity

So you start acting off and they’re running their own investigation

This one is less of a “little kid sixth sense” and more like “mini detective”

They even get Heizou to join in the investigation

But there’s definitely a bit of weird sibling psychic-ness, your first born predicts baby's gender later on

Everyone’s excited, you first born is already planning investigations to do with them

Extra note, but Heizou definitely takes your infants on easy investigations strapped to his chest in a baby harness

Wanderer

I… don’t think he can have kids, I personally think he was not modeled with the required hardware (fully believe his original model was at least a ken doll and and at most fem)

But, between handling the electro gnosis and being around Dottore, I could see him getting the hardware and systems

I do not think he knows he has these systems, mostly because he’s never tried

So your kid is an accident

And Wanderer has a lot of thoughts but, I think he holds the baby and decides that he can do this

First baby’s name is Niwa

This kid has him wrapped around their finger, and he’s happy with one

And now that you two know he can get you pregnant you two are more careful

Your kid asks for a sibling and he’s not one to deny them if you’re okay with it

They’re also the one to tell you, one day they just press a kiss to your tummy before Wanderer puts them to bed for the night

Tighnari’s in the city, so you check in with him before he leaves

I think Wanderer surprises himself with the love he feels for his kids

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Keep the Memories of Who I Was Before

Jayce and Viktor were found alive after the Machine Herald's defeat. Viktor doesn't remember anything of Hextech.

I recently participated in a writing challenge/gift exchange where we we got to choose the trope and relationship type but not the fandom that our gifters would write for us. I got assigned to write an M/M fic for the trope "Amnesia - A has lost memories of painful event; B fills in the blanks even though it hurts them both". I was still reeling from season 2 when I got my prompt, so naturally I filled it with jayvik.

If you want reading music for this, I suggest "The Line" by Twenty One Pilots, "Imperfection" by Evanescence, and "Achilles Come Down" by Gang of Youths.

I'll post a preview here, and the rest is available on AO3!

~

Jayce preferred the hospital to his lab. Not in general, no, but waiting for Viktor to wake up was infinitely more preferable when he could hear the steady beep of the heart monitor. There was a heartbeat. Viktor was alive. He was alive and stable instead of being stuck in the goo cube, instead of a rapidly cooling corpse on the table of their lab as Jayce fused him with the Hexcore.

They were both in bad shape when Ekko had found them, but Jayce had woken up first. It had been in time to see Mel off. She had given him a gold bracelet with the instruction to break it if he was ever in danger. She would come racing back to him as fast as she could. Jayce wore it where he used to wear the runic bracelet. At first, he thought it would have hurt where the Rune had once been fused to his skin, but instead his wrist was mostly numb there. He still couldn't fully move the fingers on his left hand. The doctors weren't sure if he would ever fully regain mobility in his hand or still-healing broken leg. There was something wrong with his breathing as well.

It was a small price to pay for saving the world. It was a small price to pay to save Viktor.

(But it also didn’t quite make sense, not by science alone. “Were you caught in the Grey? Because this almost matches the damage sometimes caused by prolonged exposure.” one of the doctors had asked. And while the air hadn’t been pleasant in the Ruined Zaun, Jayce couldn’t say he had been. The damage to his lungs was inexplicable, not something he could dismiss as his body rebelling against the abuse he had put it through, fighting the Machine Herald instead of healing.)

Other than his wrist, Jayce didn’t see any scars from the Arcane on his own body. If Viktor had died, and somehow Jayce had found the strength to live, he would have been devastated by this, by how he didn’t bear scars in the last place where Viktor had touched him. Now, Jayce was sure that the lack of fingerprint scars on his forehead was why he was allowed near Viktor.

Mel hadn't given him a ring. Maybe she had known he would find another magical bracelet far more comforting than another thing to make his nerve-damaged fingers clumsy. Maybe it was because one of their last conversations.

“I don’t know when I’ll come back, assuming I don’t need to come save you,” she had said to him. It had gone unsaid that she didn’t know if she would come back. She had inherited all her family’s holdings in Noxus, and she had to manage them. And that wasn’t counting the danger that awaited her in Noxus. If Viktor was well enough to travel (not that he had ever been truly well for as long as Jayce had known him, but perhaps the fresh air of Noxus would have helped his breathing), if Jayce had the strength to fight and hold a hammer, he would have insisted on going with her. “But I want you to be happy, not waiting for me to return. Maybe, if you and your partner are up for it, we can pick things back up when you and I can stay together for good. And if not, I’ll still be glad to be your friend.”

The first day Jayce had spent at Viktor’s bedside, he had spent it sewing up the blanket from where it had been cut off of Viktor. Had it been medical expediency, or had it been an attempt to destroy the last bit of armor that Viktor had from the cold?

Afterwards, all he could do was sit and fiddle with Mel’s bracelet.

The heartbeat monitor changed its tempo, faster than it had been a minute ago, and Jayce glanced up from the bracelet. Viktor was just as still as he was however many minutes ago that Jayce had become distracted twisting the bracelet around his wrist. Just as still except for the movement behind his eyes, like he was having a dream.

As far as Jayce knew, Viktor hadn’t dreamt when he was in the cocoon that the Hexcore had made for him in their lab. Why would he have dreamt? The Hexcore lulled people into dreamless solitude.

Why wouldn’t Viktor have dreamt? Jayce hadn’t been able to keep his eyes on Viktor’s face at all moments, no matter how much he had wanted to. And the Hexcore hadn’t been controlling Viktor then, not yet. Not fully.

Jayce couldn’t remember if Viktor had dreamt during the long nights in the hospital. He should have paid more attention to him back then.

And Viktor gasped. He gasped down air like a drowning man. It took a moment for Jayce to realize that he had never heard Viktor breath so deeply before, not even when he had been hooked up to oxygen tanks with medicine for his lungs flowing through an IV drip feed. Jayce found himself grinning.

Viktor’s eyes opened. They were the same amber color that they had been before Viktor had died, not the washed-out cosmic yellow with iridescent streaks. Not the cold eyes of the Herald, nor the iridescent and exhausted eyes of the Mage.

Viktor’s gloriously amber eyes looked around the room, blinking. Those eyes turned to Jayce, and the confusion in them didn’t clear. “Do I know you?”

Jayce felt the grin slide from his face. “Viktor, it’s me, Jayce, your partner.”

“Oh. I must be having a reaction to whatever medication I’m on,” Viktor said. The doctors were kinder than Jayce had expected. Giving Viktor pain medication was the humane thing to do, but Jayce was still surprised that Piltover doctors really treat the man who had tried to transmute humane to arcane with compassion.

Viktor smiled softly at him. “While we wait for the medication to wear off, could you remind me how I managed to get such a handsome husband?”

Jayce tamped down on the fluttering feeling in his chest. Like Viktor had said, the medication was really doing a number on him. “We’re not married.”

Viktor looked away from him, embarrassment clear on his face. “Well, don’t expect me to plan the wedding until after I can think clearly again.”

“We’re lab partners. What, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Viktor’s eyebrows drew together in concentration. “I had received news of an explosion set off during a break-in. I had been asked to check it out since it appeared to be some sort of research lab. At least, that’s what the enforcers told me. I didn’t see it. Was there another explosion?”

“No, there wasn’t.” Not thanks to the break-in, anyways. Not directly, even if it had been Jinx – Powder – setting it off just like she had sent her bomb to the Council. “You came to the lab, and, Viktor, that was almost eight years ago.”

“Eight years?” Viktor began to move his hands, like he was going to check his face for wrinkles or – no, he wouldn’t be checking his hair. Jayce had resisted the urge to run his hands through Viktor’s hair, to see if the white steaks were at all a different texture than the brown since they were lasting scars from the Hexcore’s transformation. But if Viktor didn’t remember the last eight years, then why would he remember his transformation? “That doesn’t sound right, how could I have forgotten –”

Viktor was cut off by the sound of his handcuffs pulling taught against the hospital bed. Confusion, no, fear, filled his eyes. He tugged again as if to confirm, more forcefully this time.

“Why am I in handcuffs?” Viktor looked down and began to tremble. “What’s wrong with my hand?”

His right hand was flesh once more, but there was an iridescent, sinuous pattern cast upon it, fading as it traveled up his arm. The same scars were strewn across his cheekbones and jaw, where his flesh had connected to the purple metal of his body. Jayce suspected that his leg was covered in the same scars, though he hadn’t lifted the blanket to check, nor had he asked the doctors who had transferred Viktor out of Jayce’s blanket and into a proper hospital gown.

“Don’t worry,” Jayce said, feeling useless. “It’ll…”

The door opened and one of the orderlies walked in. “You’re awake. I’ll let the enforcers know you’re awake. Mr. Talis, I’ll need you to leave the room while I examine the patient.”

Jayce would fight everyone who dared lay a cruel finger on Viktor, but he also knew he had to conserve his strength. “Promise me you won’t hurt him.”

“Doctor’s oath I won’t,” the orderly said. “You’ll have to talk to the enforcers for the rest.”

Read the rest on AO3.

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

Little!April - Supportive

Regressuary day 10 … prompt: Character A wants to wear diapers to help with their regression. Character B tries their best to be supportive. (@mcschnuggles)

Wanted to very very clearly start this off by saying this is ENTIRELY sfw and any interaction with this post that seems even remotely nsfw will be blocked immediately. I couldn’t care less what you do in your personal life but this is my safe space. Anyway, I know this can be a difficult topic in the agere community but I wanted to write something to help padded regressors feel more accepted within the community <3

Word count: 1132

—————————

Accidents weren’t really a problem with April, she was usually capable of getting herself to the bathroom on time when she was little but that’s more where the problem lay. Everytime the girl needed to use the restroom she’d immediately pull herself out of her regressed headspace and struggled to return to it later even when she really needed it. Leslie and Ben noticed very quickly that this frequently resulted in April being extra irritable for the rest of the day which no one needed. They tried to address the topic gently, making sure to approach April about their concerns while she was big and Andy was out.

“We just want to make your regression as safe for you as possible,” Ben explained gently.

“And we thought maybe some protection could help with that,” Leslie added. April’s face scrunched up and burnt red, her fists tightening around the soft blanket she was sitting under. The suggestion made her feel small and nervous even though Mummy and Dada had said they wanted to talk with big April. She couldn’t help it. “Oh baby, does it make you that upset to think about?” Leslie cooed gently, not wanting to make April uncomfortable. The younger girl whined, rubbing her fists at her eyes, the thought of crying right now was making her feel even more embarrassed. The problem was that she didn’t know if it made her upset, or if she was particularly opposed to the idea. In fact, a part of her did think it might be nice to try. It all just felt so different and new, April hated change. She stood up from the couch abruptly, stomping off to her bedroom and slamming the door. She didn’t mean to seem angry but her body felt like it was about to burst. She just needed some time to think.

Leslie and Ben were understandably worried about April but decided not to push her too far in case they made it worse. She stayed in her room all afternoon and eventually Andy returned from band practice. “Where’s ‘Pril?” He questioned, eager to play with the younger girl after he’d been out all day.

“She’s in the bedroom but she needs some space right now, ok?” Ben warned gently, looking up from the book he’d been reading on the couch.

“Why?” Andy questioned, April never needed space from him - from other people yes, but never Andy.

Leslie and Ben shared a look, “it’s not really our spot to tell you about it buddy,” Leslie explained. Andy crossed his arms with a frown, if it related to April it related to him.

He went off to their room, leaving Leslie and Ben worried on the couch. They decided April could handle herself if she wanted Andy to leave her alone and decided to go start making dinner - Calzones.

After a while April and Andy both emerged from the bedroom, hands intertwined and April standing slightly behind Andy with her pacifier in her mouth. They hovered in the entrance of the kitchen for a moment before Andy spoke up. “April’s gonna try diapers.” Both Leslie and Ben looked up in shock, they certainly hadn’t expected that. April whined and tugged on Andy’s hand, as if to remind him of something. “Oh right, and I’m going to try pull-ups.”

“That’s very kind of you kiddo,” Ben smiled softly.

Andy shrugged, wrapping April in a big bear hug. “It’ll make ‘Pril feel better and I have accidents too sometimes so I think it will be a good idea.”

***

The diapers and pull-ups arrived a few days later, April’s had little purple stars on the front and that made her feel a bit better, at least they were cute. It took a bit of gentle reassurance from Leslie, Ben and Andy, before April agreed to actually try them on. “What if I don’t like it?” She’d asked Leslie nervously, eyeing the package which Leslie had placed on the bed.

“Then we can take it off and you never have to try them again, ok?” April nodded. She was already feeling small and it made the idea of Ben and Leslie taking care of her like this comforting. Plus, the thought that Andy was just down the hall with Ben helping him put on a pull-up made her feel much less embarrassed. She grabbed onto her stuffed dog version of Champion and wordlessly lay down on the bed.

“You’re doing so well bub,” Leslie cooed as she helped April into the diaper. April blushed, keeping her eyes trained on the ceiling above her. She soothed the soft fur of her stuffie back and forth against her cheek to keep her calm. “Do you want a onesie?” April nodded eagerly, feeling incredibly small as Leslie changed her.

“Dino please,” she mumbled around her fingers which had made their way into her mouth. Leslie picked out April’s favorite green hooded dinosaur onesie and helped her into it. The fabric was so soft and the hood was good for hiding in.

“You’re all set baby dino,” she cooed. April sat up, suddenly too excited by the fact she was dressed up like a dinosaur to care about the diaper. She roared playfully, making Leslie smile and kiss her forehead. “Does it feel ok?”

“It’s ok mummy,” she shrugged, her tummy twisting anxiously at the thought of actually talking about it. Leslie sighed, recognising April’s hesitance.

“It’s ok not to like it, and it’s also ok if you do. It’s also ok if you decide not to use it or if you do.” she explained gently, tucking April’s hair behind her ears.

April squirmed, “I think I like it… feels safe,” she explained nervously. Leslie smiled,

“That’s all we wanted, baby. For you to feel safe.” April nodded and stood up, reaching out to hold onto the hem of Leslie’s shirt as they walked out to the living room. Andy was sat on the floor, playing with his toy cars in just a pull-up and Mouserat t-shirt. She immediately felt at ease realising she wasn’t alone.

“‘Pril! Wanna play racing cars?” He asked excitedly. A part of April wanted to stay holding on to Leslie because she felt smaller than usual and Mummy was so safe but at the same time she wanted to play with Andy. She took a deep breath, Ann always told her it was a good way to ground herself, and then let go of Leslie’s shirt so she could sit on the floor beside Andy. He pulled her into his lap as he often did when they were playing together. This felt safe, part of it was different and new but that didn’t necessarily mean it was scary and bad. And she definitely wasn’t alone so it would be ok.

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

If you are still taking fic prompts I would love to suggest landoscar and 30☺️

DEFINITELY still taking ficlet prompts. 30 from this list here: "You can't tell anyone" This is a thinly veiled excuse to also write Oscarmark because all anyone's asked for is Landoscar and I want to branch out a little smidgen. It's also not ANGSTY, but it's certainly a little toxic and rancid. First line above the cut, the rest underneath bc it launches into NSFW really quick.

Lando’s not expecting it. 

He’s not expecting to push into Oscar’s driver room (without knocking, because he doesn’t need to knock), to find Oscar on his knees, Mark Webber standing above him, fingers twisted in Oscar’s hair, his cock down Oscar’s throat. It stops him dead in his tracks for a moment, mouth open for a moment, before he snaps it shut. 

“Wasn’t expecting visitors,” Mark says it casually, as Oscar makes a gagging sound, choking around Mark’s cock in surprise. He tries to pull back, but Mark’s hand tightens in his hair, pulls him closer, until he’s buried so deep in Oscar’s mouth that Lando can see Oscar’s nose pressing against Mark’s skin, the curl of his pubic hair. 

“Stay, Oscar,” it’s almost conversational, as he strokes his hand through Oscar’s hair, before looking back up at Lando. The same adoration he’d fixed on Oscar isn’t present in his gaze, though, when he looks at Lando. 

“What do you need, Lando,” there’s a very thin layer of patience that remains in Mark’s voice, and in the silence that follows, Lando wants to slap his hands over his ears at the wet choke of Oscar’s throat around Mark’s cock. Glances from Mark, down to Oscar, to the line of saliva that’s trickling down his cheek, to glossy brown eyes, the tears beading along his lash line. 

He can’t even remember what he’s here for. But it certainly isn’t that. 

“N-nothing,” he stammers the word out, and then is turning on his heel to leave. 

“You’re here already, you can always just stay,” Mark murmurs, and Lando blushes red to the tips of his ears. It stops him dead in his tracks though, thinking about it. About the obscene stretch of Oscar’s lips around Mark’s cock. It’s not his thing, though. 

Oscar’s his thing. But watching Oscar with Mark, the devastating knowledge that Oscar will never be his? That’s not his thing. 

“It’s fine, I’ll come back later. Text me, Osc, yeah?” Lando asks, doesn’t wait for an answer from either of them before he scurries out of the room. 

He’s not expecting the knock on his hotel room door, a couple hours later, when he’s got the TV on as background noise, lounging in his bed, scrolling through social media. He hasn’t been able to get the image of Oscar’s mouth stretched around Mark’s cock out of his head, sees it on replay, imprinted on the back of his eyelids. It startles him, from the strange, sleepy stretch of time, has his phone flying out of his hands onto the floor with a thud. 

“One sec,” he shouts, flops out of bed like a baby deer, and makes his way to the door. Cracks it open to see Oscar standing outside, fingers twisting together, anxious. 

“C’mon then,” he mutters, steps to the side and swings the door open so Oscar can enter the room, closes it behind. Oscar’s cheeks are flushed, but the rest of him looks a little pale, and he brings his finger to his mouth, chews on the knuckle of his pointer finger as he looks at Lando, long and searching. 

“Out with it, mate,” Lando mutters, has to look away for a minute, to gain his bearings. 

“You can’t tell anyone,” Lando can tell it’s meant to sound desperate, like a cry, but Oscar’s voice is wrecked and hoarse, and he’s Oscar. Painfully, brutally neutral even when the time doesn’t call for it. “He’s…it would fuck his career,” Oscar explains, gentle, soft. 

Lando snorts. Course it fucking would. Mark Webber fucking Oscar Piastri would be all anyone would talk about, for myriad reasons. He wasn’t about to talk about it, wasn’t about to tell anyone. He was going to keep it locked in a vault of material to have a guilty wank over, and then move on from it eventually, some day. 

Truth be told, he wasn’t even expecting Oscar to come and try to explain it away, justify it away, whatever he’s trying to do right now. 

“Course,” Lando says, rolling his eyes. Oscar squints at him, as though trying to see through whatever front Lando’s putting up, to see if he’s lying. Catches his lower lip between his teeth, and lets out a long sigh. 

“Sorry you had to see that,” he finishes, nods, as though he’s satisfied that Lando’s not about to take it back. Turns to go. 

“Wouldn’t hurt though if I had some…” Lando trails off for a minute, the word he’s looking for on the tip of his tongue. Snaps his fingers when he gets it, startling Oscar. “If I had some incentive,” he says with finality, dragging his eyes over the line of Oscar’s body, from his toes, back up to his rosy cheeks. 

“Y’know, from your knees, or whatever,”

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

I chose an alternate prompt for Day Nine of Bucktommy Fluffebruary: Drunken Love Confessions. Tommy's is really the prompt filling one, but everyone feels the love in this Chili's tonight. I realized I completely forgot this entire time that Melton is a Captain, so I've been writing him as just one of the other firefighters and made up some guy named Bryant that I mention in at least one other prompt fill. Melton bb I'm so sorry. You'll get that promotion soon. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary.

A joint bachelor party had been Tommy’s idea, because they’d fought over who got who as a guest for about five minutes before Tommy realized they had almost all the same friends. So why bother splitting the party up?

Maddie, Eddie, and Sal organize it as Evan’s co-Best Man and Woman and Tommy’s Best Man, and it turns into a bar crawl with a couple stops at places to get real food with a karaoke spot as their final destination. That had been Howie’s touch, because he felt guilty for missing the last karaoke bachelor party even though it was through no fault of his own. Plus, who doesn’t like karaoke?

The thing is, the last bar had been a tiki place, and tiki drinks are strong, so they’re all messes by the time they reach the karaoke place. Tommy claims a corner of the couch and pulls Evan into his lap when his fiancé passes by.

“You’re so-o pretty,” Tommy says, because Evan is so pretty. No one prettier has ever existed, and it’s a thought he’s had while he was sober, so it’s true.

“You’re pretty,” Evan counters, cupping his chin and squeezing so Tommy’s lips pucker. When Evan kisses him, it’s sloppy and probably not appropriate for their friends and family, but it’s a bachelor party. It’s two bachelor parties, actually they’re supposed to have double the debauchery.

“Are you gonna give me a lapdance later?” Tommy asks, squeezing his hip.

“Maybe,” Evan says, licking his lips, and Tommy watches his tongue raptly. He wants to chase it with his own, wants to feel it trace along his—

“Oh, my god, I’m going to dump water on you two in a minute,” Karen says, plopping down next to them. “Which one of you is singing with me?”

“Me,” Tommy says, grinning at her. He loves singing with Karen. She’s one of the best singers he’s ever met in his life, so he likes being around her when she sings. He’s not very good, but she doesn’t judge him.

“My Sonny,” she coos, pinching his cheek.

“My Cher,” he sighs.

Sonny Bono was known for two things: being Italian and not being as good a singer as Cher. Well, he was known for other things, too, but that isn’t relevant to Tommy’s situation. He doesn't plan on becoming a Republican, the mayor of Palm Springs, or a U.S. Representative. He does, however, plan on doing his best to croon along with Karen to “I Got You Babe” or “All I Ever Need Is You,” because she gets to belt more lines in that one and he wants to show her off.

There’s a bit of hubbub near the door to their suite, and then Bobby and Athena appear with a cake between them to a lot of cheers. They hadn’t joined them on the bar crawl, because Athena had said it would feel too much like Mom and Dad crashing their kids’ party. Tommy’s delighted to see them, because he hadn’t been expecting them at all. He and Evan cheer, and Evan wobbles out of his lap to hug them as soon as the cake is set on the table. Tommy gets hauled up by Hen so he can do the same thing, because the couch is deep and he is tall and drunk.

“You good?” Hen asks, and Tommy squeezes the back of her neck with a laugh.

“I'm great,” he says, leaving a wet kiss on her cheek.

Hen laughs and holds his head in place so she can do the same, and they end up simultaneously wiping slobber off their cheeks and giggling together on their way over to Bobby and Athena.

He’s gotten really close with Bobby and Athena ever since he and Evan got back together, but he’s not really a hugger with them. He is, however, drunk enough that it seems like a great time to turn into one. As he’s enveloped in Bobby’s arms and then stoops to have Athena do the same, he thinks it’s a good thing to keep going.

“Don’t be too happy to see us yet,” Athena warns, nodding toward the cake. “Hen ordered it.”

“I'm always happy to see a cake,” Tommy says, grinning. When he finally gets a good look at it, though, he bursts out laughing.

It’s unbelievably stupid, and Tommy whips out his phone to take several photos from many different angles, including one of Evan crouched next to it with his tongue near the one that’s shaped—presumably—like Tommy’s ass. It's one of those molded sexy cakes, and it’s two shapely naked asses seen under the hem of non-regulation turnout jackets—they’d never sit that high—with each of their names “sewn” on the hem. Each of their surnames has been added to the other to make it look like it’s handwritten into the correct spot to make them say “Buckley-Kinard.”

He loves it.

He loves everyone in this room so much.

“We should've had this be the wedding cake,” Evan says as he slips his arm around Tommy's waist. They pose next to the cake for pictures.

“Looks like I get to eat your ass twice tonight,” Tommy murmurs through his teeth as Howie takes their picture.

Howie bursts out laughing and shows them the picture. Evan’s face is caught between a grin and surprise, so his eyebrows are up near his hairline and his face is bright red.

“The hell did you say to him, BK?” Lucy asks, elbowing him.

“Not telling,” Tommy says, hugging his fiancé like a teddy bear. “She started calling me that last week. Know why?”

“It's your new last name initials in a week?” Evan guesses, because he's smart. He's so smart and pretty, and Tommy is the luckiest guy in the world.

“Yeah,” he confirms with a happy sigh, getting caught in his fiancé’s eyes for a moment.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here,” Sal says on the microphone, even though they’re in a small room and everyone could hear him if he just raised his voice enough, “I’d like to say a couple words, because there’s some stuff I can’t say in my Best Man speech. Such as: is anyone else dreading having to knock real loud going into every room these two are in for the next few months?”

“We already do that!” Ravi calls, and Tommy buries his face in his hands to hide his flushed, embarrassed giggles. Evan tightens his arms around him and kisses under his ear with a breathless giggle of his own.

“Seriously, I’ve started bringing earplugs if I’m going to crash in their guest room,” Sal adds, grinning. “I haven’t seen two people so into each other since I met Gina and got charged with public indecency twice—”

“Should’ve been three times,” Athena adds.

He points to her and grins. “And I thank you for that, Sarge. But it’s bad enough that I’ve had to start putting fuckin’ blinders on whenever Tommy opens his phone around me—well done, Buckley, by the way, you got a real eye for photography—but they’re also so in love with each other that it makes the rest of us look bad. I can only hope that they chill out in the next fifty years, but we all know we’re still going to be loudly announcing ourselves before we turn a corner even when they’re retired.

“So congratulations, boys, on finding true love, holding onto it, and never letting go of it,” he continues, his grin widening. “And never letting go of other things, apparently. To Tommy and Buck!”

Everyone cheers and echoes his toast, and Tommy is never going to be able to look any of them in the eye again.

“We’re not that bad, are we?” he asks, and Evan laughs loudly in his ear.

“Baby, we’re worse.” He nuzzles his cheek and murmurs, “They don’t even know what we get up to in our own house.”

Tommy bites his lip and is about to respond when he hears Sal call, “See what I mean?”

“Shut up,” Tommy says, throwing a balled up napkin at him. “Maddie, would you like to make an inappropriate speech?”

“I’m alright,” she says, grinning. “I changed Buck’s diapers, so it would be a little weird. Also, I make a lot of noise when I’m in your house for a reason. I don’t need to see all that.”

“I told you!” Evan says to Tommy, who had believed that Maddie was just comfortable at their house.

“Eddie?” Sal offers, and Eddie comes up to the platform acting as the stage, looping an arm around Sal’s shoulders.

“This guy is right,” he says, nodding toward Sal. “But he doesn’t have to work with Buck. So let me tell you all about how I walked in on these two Facetiming while Buck was in the showers. Thankfully, Buck’s got waterproof earbuds. Unfortunately, I could still hear him speak.”

“Oh no,” Evan groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Eddie, you said you were going to be washing the engine.”

“Yeah, and then Joey from B-shift kindly offered to do it instead, so I wandered my happy ass into the showers and heard my best friend complain, ‘But it won’t fit,’” he says, his voice taking on a high, breathy quality. “And then: ‘You’re going to have to force it.’ So I, being a family man—shut up, Chimney—loudly announced myself to the room, because what if Cap walked in? What if Hen walked in? What if literally anyone walked in?”

“Should I be hearing this?” Maddie asks.

“And I hear Buck call, ‘Hey, Eddie, Tommy might need you to help him drop in this transmission after work if you’re free,’” Eddie says flatly, and the whole room erupts in laughter. “And, yes, I did help, because that Chevelle was beautiful. Do I believe that they were actually talking about a transmission? I do, because otherwise I’d need to pour bleach in my ears. Is it very telling that I genuinely thought they’d get up to that kind of thing at literally any time of day when one or both of them is working? Yeah, a little. You guys are unbelievable. I love you both, I can’t wait to be there for you guys when you get married. I thank you for including my son in your ceremony, because he loves both of you more than you’ll ever know, but keep it PG around the kid, okay?”

“We always do!” Evan protests.

“No, we do,” Tommy agrees quickly as Eddie comes to them for hugs. “I promise.”

“Oh, I know, or I’d be making you answer whatever questions he’d be asking,” Eddie says, patting his cheek.

“Let’s get a groom up here,” Sal says to a round of cheers.

“Alright,” Tommy says, kissing Evan before going to Sal and grabbing the mic. “Alright, I get it, we’ll—well, I’m sorry, I can’t make any promises other than ‘we’ll try.’ But—Sal, sit down, you mook—I swear we don’t mean to be that bad. Anyway, I am not standing here to defend our very healthy and normal attraction to each other—”

“Oh, my god,” Evan says, burying his face in his hands as Eddie cackles next to him.

“—I’m here to thank you all for putting up with us,” Tommy says, looking out at the grinning faces of everyone he loves, even though they’re all a little blurry. “And for being there for us through everything, good and bad, and being people we can go to when things are bad or I’m freaking out about proposing or whatever it is I’m freaking out about at the time. I love you guys so much. You’re all amazing and wonderful, and sometimes I have to remind myself this isn’t a dream, because you’re the family I always wanted but didn’t think I’d get. So, thank you. I love you, thank you for being here and for always being there for us. Someone please take this microphone from me.”

Howie rushes the platform to hug him around the middle, and then Maddie, Karen, Hen, Lucy, Ravi, Melton, Eddie, and Sal follow until Tommy is in the center of a group hug. He can see over almost everyone’s heads, and so he can see the way Evan’s beaming at him with tear-filled eyes and the way that Bobby and Athena go to either side of his fiancé to put an arm around him and smile at Tommy, too.

There’s a chorus of “We love you”s from everyone, and then Tommy wrestles his arm free so he can bring the mic to his lips.

“Alright, who’s first on the list?” he asks.

“Me!” Lucy calls, making grabby hands for the mic.

He hands it off and detangles himself from the group so he can go to the three people standing off to the side.

“Liquid courage?” Athena guesses, patting his cheek with a fond smile.

“Yeah, a little,” Tommy admits, grinning. “That obvious?”

She snorts and fixes him with a knowing look. “Only to anyone with eyes.”

He gets a tight hug from a damp-eyed Bobby, who gruffly tells him he's proud of him and that he loves him, too. Tommy kind of sags against him for a second before getting a full-bodied hug from Athena that shouldn’t make him feel so small, and then there’s Evan in front of him.

“I love you,” Tommy says, his insides gooey and molten like they always are when Evan’s smiling at him like that. “Most of all.”

Evan steps into his space and puts his arms around him, crossing his wrists behind Tommy’s neck. “I love you most of all, too. You’re so drunk, babe.”

“I am.” He hugs Evan around the middle and rubs his cheek on the soft sweater he’s wearing. It feels nice. “Do we really scar them that much?”

Evan’s body shakes against his with laughter. “Yeah, I think we do.”

“Should we stop?”

“Nah, we’ll enjoy it while it lasts. Kids’ll probably slow us down.”

Tommy melts against Evan, letting him take his entire weight. Kids. They’ll have kids one day, and maybe grandkids, and he’s going to be scared out of his mind that he’s going to fuck them up and he has an entire group of people to turn to when that happens. It takes a village, and he has one. He knows he’s crying, but they’re happy tears. His face is also hidden in Evan’s neck, so no one can see.

But he doesn’t really care if they do. They’re family. Family cries around each other and doesn’t judge. Real families, at least, like theirs.

He sways with Evan to the sound of Ravi and Lucy wailing “Don’t You Want Me” by Human League into their microphones, and he feels something deep inside his heart finally heal.

–

[rareomens]

Oh hey, no. Don't do that. Please.

This is a bit of a read but I've spent a long time thinking and editing, and I'm saying this all gently but seriously.

I imagine the above was NOT intentionally said to prick anyone's emotions, but this kind of comment on Rare Omens prompts is like saying it about any of them. It reminds me that so many of these pairs are only tolerated at best by the majority of folks in the fandom. (Every one of these prompts has people who don't like or even actively hate them. Take a look at the prompt list in our pinned post, and marvel at that statement but know it to be true.)

This prompt month event has a "don't like? ignore it and move on" policy. Trust me from experience with my own rare ships: we hear the disgust or hate enough, we know others aren't into it.

If you don't like something, that's okay! If you want to talk about not liking it, that's also okay. BUT PLEASE don't reply to people who are clearly having their fun in a post. It's not necessary and it only makes people feel badly to see it directly in the notifs. It only digs away at feeling welcome to whatever we get from enjoying a pair (or OT3, or polycule, etc). And that can lead to feeling unwelcome in the wider fandom the rest of the time... which is absolutely devastating to feel.

You can post separately and start a conversation to find people who feel similarly if you feel strongly and want to have those conversations—though hating on rare pairs/characters is common and such posts are probably not necessary. Anyone doing so: please DO NOT TAG a ship in your tags when hating on it. Bc the people most likely searching that tag? They DO like it, and don't need to wade through a bunch of negative comments to find fellow fans.

I started Rare Omens bc it was hard to find transformative works for ships I liked (be it as a couple or ANY OTHER way you can pair characters up—as a reminder: it doesn't have to be NSFW; it doesn't have to be SFW either of course). I wanted to find other people who enjoyed what I enjoyed. And to help people experiment with making stories and art they otherwise might never have thought about. And it has gone really well! I've seen NSFW ships, and friend ships, and respected enemies, hated enemies, and AUs of all shapes. Participants over the years have mentioned that they never would've thought to try writing certain characters in stories or draw them off on adventures. THAT, I love. We know there's ever anyone out there excited for their faves and waiting for it.

I also want to say...

I saw this reply earlier today but I was out at a showing of Macbeth where I made the acquaintance of a bunch of Good Omens fans (ranging in age from 20s to 60s at a guess). One of them even cosplays Metatron, and their Crowley and Aziraphale showed pics. It was real fun to see them include a rarer character in their cosplay group. I didn't have a chance to reply to this until now, and I'm glad I waited. I'm thinking about that cosplayer too: it can be disheartening to see "your" rare character excluded from the fun of transformative works.

Right. All this to say:

Please be kind to your fellow fans, even when they're playing with the dolls in ways you would never.

We don't have to force ourselves to like anything or interact with it (in fact: don't interact, talk privately to your friends who understand), but we gotta let people have their sandbox too. Because if we're excluding our weirdest and wildest takes, the most gloriously crackfic pairings possible, then we're not safe for anyone. We're not transforming anything.

Ship and let ship.

Thank you.

[UPDATE] Docdust and I have chatted. They've adjusted their comment. They are friends with the others and meant it in a positive way. So new addendum 😅: inside jokes outside our groups can be seen by others who might not know our history or what we're doing with RP.

I'm glad no one was really hating on a pair. And I'm equally glad to have Rare Omens' stance on it all written out here. Thank you all for continuing to be supportive of each other!

It’s Rare Omens 2025 Day 4

Aziraphale and Metatron!

Are the Guardian and the Voice lovers, enemies, siblings, friends, work colleagues? Share your prompt fills of the Guardian and the Voice and tag us.

You can also post to the **AO3 collection** Rare_Omens, which we'll check regularly throughout the prompt month.

[bluerosefox]

Waiting... Waiting...

So... This was inspired by listening to EPIC (FREAKING LOVE ALL THE ALBUMS, SO GOOD) and by @noxcheshire post of Tim being Odysseus reincarnated and Danny (maybe also reincarnated) being his Penelope (Here) so I had to turn it into a Dead Tired idea.

The song The Challenge is the main one here. (Cause I LOVE that song... along with Would You Fall In Love With Me Again)

So WHAT IF Danny IS the reincarnated Penelope, after becoming the Ghost King Danny's memories of his past life as Penelope returns and remembers how before dying/ or being reincarnated both Penelope and Odysseus promised to find each other in their new lives, no matter who they are, what new form they take, they will find each other.

So Danny/Penelope, just like before waits for their Odysseus to return to them, but also tries to find him in their new life (CW is laughing whenever Danny asks for hints and gets a 'In due time, just wait' answer, ugh Danny wants to smack CW for that)

However just like in his previous life with being in a high position of power, Danny is being pressured to marry/take a spouse (now its not just men/males though so its a huge headache, I head canon Ghosts don't care much for gender preference) mostly by the dang eyeballs that Danny is still trying to find a way to get rid of without upsetting the Infinite Realms delicate (but slowly healing) balance even if Danny wanted nothing more than to punch all of the suitors out.

So Danny decides to play the long game again.

And waits for their Odysseus return.

Danny's wait is over when they suddenly feel the Realms shift one day, as if welcoming someone familiar home, and the same feeling Danny had when he had been Penelope and saw the storm that was sign of Odysseus coming home, Danny decides its time to bring out The Challenge once again. (CW gifted Danny a few things from his past as Penelope as a coronation gift, like Odysseus's bow (now enchanted to be unbreakable), a painting of when he was Penelope, with Telemchus, and Odysseus, and the Marriage Bed/Olive Tree, AND the Palace Odysseus made that Danny takes to being in over being at Pariah's Keep)

-x-x-

Meanwhile

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin, always had strange dreams as a child.

War, Death, Monsters, Gods, Goddesses.

His dreams were more like nightmares, haunting him and he sometimes woke up in cold sweat.

He hated storms. Hated being in the water for to long. Hated how he felt both tense but also at home when around Greek heroes, as if he was afraid to 'disrespect' them (Cassie was the only one he didn't feel that way around, mostly cause they had been somewhat friends before their heroing since their parents knew each other) but also knew how to appease them should he insult them. He also had a strange hatred for the CoO with a burning passion because he felt like they were mocking real Owls.

The worst part of nightmares that always pop up are of what feels like should be his home is being invaded by unwanted guests (they aren't guests), how they are angry over trying to string a bow and shot an arrow through axes, of the terrible terrible things he hear them saying they were going to do to his loved ones (two names that keep getting muted out).

How it ends in bloodshed with echoing of begging, pleading, mercy, and screams.

However in those nightmares at the end. He also finds himself looking for something in them.

Or rather he always found someone waiting for him at the end of the nightmares. Calling him by the wrong name but it sounds just right coming from them.

The dream always ends with the person asking 'How long has it been?' and before he can answer he wakes up.

So yeah Tim has horrifying nightmares/dreams he could never explain.

And the urge to find someone. To go home to them.

It isn't until he and his friends from Young Justice are hit by a spell from Klarion (who may or may not had a visit from a certain chaos encouraging Time Keeper) and sent to a place called the Infinite Realms in the middle of their fight, that Tim is hit hard with déjà vu when he spots a certain Palace in the distance and overhears some of the 'people?' (they glow and float and some don't even look human?! where are they?) talk about how the 'King' has issued a new 'Challenge' for his 'suitors'.

A Challenge involving a bow, and axes.

And Tim, feels like he knows this all too well and needs to do it.

[kg-clark-inthedark]

My gift for @puddtoast for @dishonoredgiftexchange’s 2024 fugue feast. I went with the prompt of Aramis Stilton thinking about lost love in the wake of Luca’s downfall while listening to his last audiograph from Theodanis Abele, and then realizing he’ll be okay when a monarch butterfly lands on the audiograph player.

I’ve been head over heels for this emotional sucker punch of a prompt, so I hope I did it justice!! Also I’m delighted to have finally drawn Stilton for the first time. Thank you for providing such fun and detailed prompts to choose from! (Btw I didn’t know what symbolism you were hoping for - if any - when requesting a monarch, so I ran with what I grew up with, in terms of the whole “carrying souls of the dead” thing. Hope that works for you!)

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 61

Was talking back and forth with @bakewrite in the comments of my other prompts and this idea popped into my head and won't leave me alone I think @thedemonofcat did a similar prompt to this, about Geralt buying a book about caring for your companion (dog)? Can someone link that to me if they find it lol Geralt walks into a bookstore, and asks if they have anything on how to care for bards. The bookstore clerk has bad hearing, and mistakenly thinks this witcher is looking for a guidebook on how to care for birds. He has a copy of one, so he hands it over in exchange for a reasonable amount of coins, he thinks. Geralt meanwhile is pretty sure he was ripped off. Some of this stuff doesn't sound right.. But he doesn't know enough about normal humans - let alone BARDS - to truly disprove of anything. Some of it makes sense. It recommends to not clip their wings, unless their reckless flight could end up in them being injured. Geralt understands that one. He agrees, in a way. He would never restrict his Bard's freedom, but sometimes he must deny his bard a sexual conquest or party he wants to attend, in order to keep him safe from something or someone. Not even mentioning all the times a hunt is so dangerous he has to keep Jaskier safe at the inn, much to Jaskier's chagrin. It also recommends to feed them fresh fruits along with their seed. It must mean to give them some healthy vitamin-filled fruit alongside bread and other grain based foods, right? All of these sound well and good, but then there's also a chapter explicitly stating that albeit they love touch and petting, you mustn't touch their backs, or else they'll get aroused. Geralt has touched Jaskier's back along the years, he should've known better than to make Jaskier uncomfortable. But Jaskier never seemed angry? In fact, he seemed to enjoy whenever Geralt touched his b- Oh gods, Jaskier LIKES when he touches his back! But page 202 says you aren't to let them like when you touch their back! It also says not to let them be attracted to you, but Geralt wouldn't actually mind if his bard was attracted to him- He shouldn't keep thinking along this path. Its dangerous. It says they like shiny, colorful, and easy-to-destroy enrichment items, but Geralt's bard must be special, in that Jaskier loves shiny things and colorful things, but would prefer things to stay together. Then again, some of his clothing WAS quite delicate... They're very clean, they enjoy baths, and they love to preen. Yes, yes, he already knows this. Sometimes they bite when stressed? Odd, Jaskier hasn't bitten him when stressed. Perhaps he's one of the more docile bards... Bards more unruly than Jaskier... Now that's a terrifying thought. Jaskier starts mumbling in his sleep, and Geralt sets aside his book, tucking it into his bags. He'll hold onto his bard now, and finish his book tomorrow night.

[hailsatanacab]

"give me a fandom and a prompt and i'll give you at least five sentences"

Ok then.

Jazz, Danny and Bruce are in the same age range, and Bruce has been harboring a massive crush on 7'foot tall Jazz since just after he began his training journey.

His kids know about and are mercyless. Danny thinks he's a bit of a fruit loop and 100% knows Bruce has a crush on his sister.

Into the future his coworkers find out that batman has been quietly pining after the Ghost Kings sister for years.

Chaos.

love that this reads as a challenge. Ok then. Write it. i will, let's goooo!

(sorry i kinda took it so that Jazz, Danny, and Bruce were all old friends but in that horrible adult way where you can only hang out with each other once in a blue moon when your work schedules miraculously align)

——

"Respectfully, Batman, you can take your "it's not necessary" and you can shove it up your arse. There's a demon the size of a skyscraper heading towards Metropolis and we need reinforcements."

"Superman can—"

"Superman can't. You do remember the part of the report I made telling you this, right? Or did your stubborn little bat brain just shut down when I mentioned magic?"

"Actually," Nightwing interrupts from the side, a shit-eating grin on his face, "I think his brain shut down when you mentioned the Ghost King."

"Nightwing." Batman growls in warning, his jaw clenching so hard Constantine can swear he hears the bones creaking.

Nightwing just snickers, and turns away to press a finger to his ear, no doubt letting the rest of the bat brood in on what's happening here... Whatever that is. All Constantine knows is that Batman is standing between him and fixing this mess for no God-forsaken reason.

Luckily, some of the more reasonable members of the League step in to try and talk some sense into Batman. It gives him some time to calm down.

"Batman. We need him. I know you dislike working with unknowns, but he's our best shot."

It actually looks like Wonder Woman might be getting through to him, Batman even opens his mouth to actually explain some things—a huge step forward for this incredibly emotionally constipated man.

Instead, Nightwing snorts and beats him to it. "Unknowns? More like—"

"Nightwing, please."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, get your head out of your arse and let me do this. The Ghost King is our only hope. I'm summoning him, no matter what you say."

For a long second, Constantine thinks that he'll refuse and he might have to resort to more violent methods of persuasion—which, honestly, Constantine has fantasised about many times during the more boring JL meetings—but eventually, Batman relents and steps out of the way.

"Fine. Nightwing, go check in with Red Robin."

Nightwing has the kind of devious smile that makes John glad he doesn't have kids.

"Oh, don't worry about it, B. Red Robin's coming here. So's Red Hood, I don't need to go anywhere."

"Nightwing—"

"Sh, it's starting." So saying, Nightwing then very obviously ignores Batman's protests with a poker face that even Constantine envies. What he wouldn't give to be able to shut the bat out like that.

The summoning goes quickly, thankfully. The lights flicker, the temperature drops, and the chalk circle erupts in green flames. Standard summoning practices, sure. Even the impromptu appearance of Red Hood and Red Robin—"Did we miss him?", "No, not yet! I got 2:37, what about you guys?"—doesn't throw him off.

It does pique his interest, though. Just what the hell is going on with them? Constantine's weighing up the pros and cons of asking them once all of this is over when the ground splits open and the clawed hand of the Ghost King begins to pull himself out of the ground.

John's a seasoned summoner. It's practically his job, he's done it countless times.

The icey fear that grips his heart, that freezes his breath in his chest, is new.

Pure, unadulterated power floods the area and he feels small, so, so small, like a child playing with things he doesn't understand. When he finally tears his eyes away from the portal, he catches a glimpse of the other magic users in the room, the same horror he feels clear in their faces. Even Captain Marvel stares slackjawed.

The pressure rises, death magic screaming in his ears, almost forcing him to his knees, and suddenly he's not so sure this is a good idea.

Too late to back out now, though.

Sickly green light pours from the crack in the ground, growing brighter and brighter as the giant figure rises, until Constantine has to close his eyes and look away. The last thing he sees are eyes, teeth, horns, a crown so bright that it burns an afterimage into his retinas.

When the light dies down and he opens his eyes again, a humanoid man floats in the centre of the circle. The ground is whole, nothing is burning, the man doesn't even have a crown. Instead, other than the wispy white hair, slightly green skin, and the—you know—floating, the Ghost King appears pretty normal. Huh.

Constantine blinks, rubbing his bleary eyes, and checks around to make sure everyone's okay. Most of the League are doing the same as him, taking fortifying breaths and trying to appear as if they've not just been completely blinded.

Most of them, that is, aside from the Gotham vigilantes.

Batman himself stands upright, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the whole thing and John's got to admit, he wishes he could do that, too. That was... a hell of a show.

The others, however, are waving frantically with huge smiles on their faces.

What?

There's a brief, taut silence, as everyone else tries to catch their breath.

As much as he would rather take a bit of a breather, John should probably start making introductions. Unfortunately, he only gets as far as opening his mouth before the Ghost King beats him to it.

"Oh, Ancients, hey guys! It's been forever, how are you? Look at you all, so grown up, wow—Nightwing, buddy, do a flip!"

It doesn't take much to get Nightwing going, and he certainly doesn't leave it at one flip. The whole of the Justice League and Justice League Dark watch with open mouths as Nightwing performs for the Ghost King.

What, and John can't stress this enough, the fuck?

As soon as Nightwing rights himself, Red Hood swats him across the back of the head and calls him a show off.

The Ghost King just laughs as he claps. "There's my little monkey, look at you go! And I'm loving that leather jacket, Hood, is that new? Looks good on you, really your colour. Brings out the red in your helmet."

"Thanks, Uncle D. At least someone around here appreciates fashion."

"Are you kidding me, you know I breathe fashion, need I remind—"

"Need I remind you of the Discowing incident?"

"That was era-appropriate and you know it! Uncle D, tell him it was era-appropriate!"

"It was era-appropriate, but so are crocs and it doesn't make them fashionable." The Ghost King—and holy shit, is this actually the Ghost King? Or did Constantine just accidentally summon a deceased family member, what the fuck is happening here?—turns to look at Red Robin with a smile, resolutely ignorning the argument he created. "How you doing, Double R? You get that tablet Tucker made for you?"

"Yes, thank you! It's so cool, how did he—"

"How's Tucker doing?" Batman interrupts, his hands now hidden underneath his cape.

As soon as the question leaves his lips, everyone groans. Red Robin makes a show of lifting up his wrist and staring at it intently.

"Incredible," Red Hood mutters with a shake of his head.

Even the Ghost King seems put out, rolling his eyes and answering in a flat tone as if he knows Batman isn't interested in what he has to say.

Not for the first time, Constantine feels like he's missing something.

"Tucker's doing very well, thank you for asking."

What follows is the most awkward silence Constantine has ever had the pleasure to be a part of.

All three of the Gotham vigilantes, including the Ghost King, are staring at Batman, waiting for something. Batman's cloak shifts as if he's moving his hands, fidgeting. If Constantine didn't know any better, he'd say he was nervous.

"Good. That's good, I'm glad to hear it."

Instead of saying anything else, the Ghost King just raises his eyebrows and continues to stare at Batman. Has he offended him in some way? Are they all going to die because of this?

After what seems like an agonising few minutes but could only really be a few seconds, Batman's shoulders dip and he takes a breath. "And Jazz?"

They all erupt into shouts, the Ghost King being the loudest. The only thing John can make out is when the Ghost King throws his hand in the air to point at Red Robin with a shout of "Time!"

"1:30.91, we got 1:30.91 on the clock, who's closest?"

"Did you even try to hold it in at all, old man? I'm so disappointed in you. People think you're cool. People think you're suave, I don't understand how they could be so wrong."

"Thank you for that, Hood."

"No, thank you, I won. Again. Because you're so predictable. Actually, I had one minute seventeen, so you held out longer than I thought you would."

Batman pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly.

Constantine feels like doing the same thing.

Whatever. He's going to have to interrupt... whatever this is. There's still a rampaging demon heading their way that they've got to bargain for. He can untangle Batman's personal connection to the Ghost King later. Or he could leave it alone and forget everything about it.

Yeah, he'll do that one.

But before he can actually open his mouth to say anything, the Ghost King, again, beats him to it.

"So, B-Man, did you summon me here for a particular reason, or was it really just so you could ask about Jazz?"

There's a beat of silence before Batman mutters, "I asked about Tucker, too. We've not seen each other in so long, it's only polite."

"And I'm sure you meant it, you're the paragon of manners." The Ghost King nods slow and wide-eyed as if he doesn't believe him at all.

At this point, even Constantine doesn't believe him.

"It has been forever, though." The Ghost King muses, bringing his hand to his chin and folding his legs underneath him. "We should all get together sometime! If you get Alfie to make some of his cookies again, I'll get Clockwork to lend us a pocket dimension where we can spend as much time as we want, deal?"

"It's a deal."

No hesitation at all, incredible.

Hold on. Wait. John has to fight the urge to pinch himself, because this has to be a dream, right? Is Batman actually smiling? He didn't even know he could do that.

An itch niggles at the back of John's mind. He's starting to get an inkling of what's going on here and it's... weird, to say the least.

"Oooh," Nightwing singsongs, like a child in a playground tickled by the very idea of romance.

But then, who's he to judge? John's no stranger to strange bedfellows, that's for sure. Whoever this Jazz is, she must be something incredible—she'd have to be, if Batman can't even go two minutes without asking about her.

"Batman and Jasmine sitting in a tree," Nightwing continues, with both Red Hood and Red Robin joining in for the rest. "K—I—S—S—I—"

"Stop," Batman growls, completely drowned out by the Ghost King's laughter, but...

But.

It all suddenly clicks for John.

The Ghost King Phantom.

Her Royal Highness, Princess Jasmine Phantom.

Jazz.

"Holy shit, mate," John breathes, unable to stop himself as everyone looks his way. "You have the hots for the Princess of the Infinite Realms?"

The Justice League meeting room has never descended into chaos quicker.