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roosterforme · 4 months

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This Sunday Is for My Girl | Hangman x Reader

Summary: Jake can barely remember what Sundays were like before you were part of his football watching tradition. When his team makes it all the way to the Super Bowl, his nervous energy practically has you on edge too, but you formulate a plan to distract him. The results are better than you could have predicted.

Warnings: Fluffy Jake, oral, smut, coach/football player roleplay, 18+

Length: 2200 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Written to accompany Sundays Are for the Boys! Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @thedroneranger

It was Super Bowl Sunday, and your boyfriend was in rare form. He was up and out of bed at the crack of dawn, cleaning the living room even though the game didn't start until later in the afternoon. You rolled over and tried to cover your head with a pillow when you heard him start running the vacuum, but it was no use. Now you were wide awake and stumbling out of his bedroom.

"Jake," you called out over the noise as you stood behind the couch. "Jake!"

"Yeah, Baby?" he shouted, not bothering to turn the appliance off. You reached along the cord and pulled the plug from the wall, and his brow creased as he asked, "What's wrong?"

You rubbed your eyes with your hands. "It's eight o'clock. You've been cleaning and running around for two hours. Your friends won't even be here until the game is about to start. Come back to bed!"

But Jake shook his head and planted his hands on his hips. "Can't, Baby. It's the big day."

You sighed and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing the Dallas Cowboys logo on his shirt. "You're nervous about the game?"

He groaned and whispered, "The Cowboys never make it to the Super Bowl. I swear this all happened because of you, and I don't want them to let us down now."

"That's sweet," you whispered, rubbing your cheek against his chest as an idea started to form in your mind. "But if you keep stressing about this, you won't even be able to enjoy the game. So... how about I try to take your mind off of it for a little bit?"

He kissed the top of your head. "How are you going to do that?"

"I have a pretty good idea."

Jake followed you into his bedroom, your fingers loosely linked with his. He stood patiently as you pulled out one of his blue and gray Cowboys jerseys and a pair of gym shorts, and then he watched you change into your pink jersey and some shorts. "You look cute," he mumbled, and you smirked. He wouldn't be saying that in a few more minutes.

"Come on," you coaxed once he got changed as well. "Come into the bathroom." You messed up his hair with your fingers and then swiped some mascara on a q-tip along the tops of his cheeks. "Just like the pros," you whispered once he had the black lines in place.

"What's your plan, Baby?" he asked, looking at himself in the mirror with a laugh.

Instead of answering his question quite yet, you asked him, "Where's your whistle? From when you coached youth football? The silver one on the lanyard?"

"I think it's in my nightstand," he mumbled, reaching for you as you slipped out of his grasp. "Where are you going? You know that pink jersey makes me wild." He followed you back into the bedroom where you rooted around in his drawer until you found the whistle and looped it around your neck. "Baby?"

"That's Coach Baby to you, Seresin. Now drop and give me twenty."

His eyes went wide as his lips parted. "Coach Baby?" he whispered, bringing his hands up to your hips.

You blew the whistle softly and said, "Ten more push ups for touching your coach without permission. That's thirty. Count them off."

With wide green eyes filled with lust and confusion, Jake dropped down into a push up position right there next to his bed and counted out each one he did until he got to thirty, making it look easy. When he popped back up to his feet with an expectant look on his face, you smiled. Keeping him distracted like this was going to be all too easy. "Let's go, Seresin. Get your shoes on. You're going for a run."

"I am?" he asked, and you blew the whistle again.

"Call me Coach Baby when you're addressing me! I want you nice and sweaty!"

"Yes, Coach Baby," he recited with his back rigid before he ran for his closet to get some socks and shoes.

You stood on the front porch with the whistle perched between your lips and your hands planted on your hips as Jake ran back and forth, up and down his street. This was almost too much fun for you, tooting the whistle each time he ran past. When you estimated that he must have run three miles, you called him back to the porch, pleased to see that a sheen of sweat was coating his face now.

When his next door neighbor waved as she walked her Cocker Spaniel, you and Jake both said, "Hi, Nancy," before you pointed to the cement at your feet. You didn't really care if everyone else in his neighborhood thought the two of you had lost it, you were getting a little turned on by the smell of fresh sweat and the warmth of his body right in front of you.

"Thirty more push ups," you told him, trying not to smile as your black eye makeup started to smudge on his face. "And make them snappy, Seresin. If you want to start in to today's game, I expect some hustle out of you."

"Yes, Coach Baby," he replied, dropping and giving you thirty more effortless looking push ups. He was all bulging biceps and sexy drawl as he counted them off for you, and you found yourself pressing your thighs together gently.

"Thirty," he said, only slightly out of breath as he hopped to his feet. Damn, his Navy training was better than you thought if he was still barely winded. You had to scramble for something for him to do now as you handed him a water bottle and watched him wipe his forehead with his forearm. He chugged the whole bottle and tossed it aside on the porch, looking at you expectantly. "I'm ready, Coach Baby."

You nodded and murmured, "You always did have good stamina," before you cleared your throat. "Fifty jumping jacks, Seresin. No stopping. Count them off." You blew the whistle with one long toot when you were ready for him to start, and you had to stand there with your arms crossed and watch him. When you started this little exercise, you didn't think you'd end up as short of breath as him, but you were wrong.

"Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen..."

"Beautiful form, Seresin," you said, nodding like you had any actual expectations at this point other than making him as sweaty as possible before you caved and took him to bed. "Keep going." He grinned at you until you narrowed your eyes and walked around him in a circle.

"Yes, Coach Baby," he replied, not missing a single count in his jumping jacks.

When he got to fifty, you tooted the whistle again and said, "Sit ups, Seresin. Fifty of them. And make them quick, because I have plans for you."

He eased himself onto his back on the porch as he grinned and said, "What kind of plans, Coach Baby?"

As he started to fold his body for the first sit up, you stepped over him with one foot so you were standing and straddling his hips. He looked up at you with a little smirk as you eased yourself down so you were sitting gently on his thighs while he finished his first sit up. "Plans that will be more fun if you're all sweaty and messy. Plans that will require me to join you in the locker room showers afterwards."

Jake cranked out a few more sit ups as he grunted, "I think I like these plans."

You let his lips get very close to yours, but you didn't kiss him. "Count them out!" you demanded, and when he started counting louder, you brushed your lips to his one time.

And that was a mistake, because now you were clutching the metal whistle in one hand and squeezing your own thigh with the other as his powerful, muscular body worked beneath you. The tang of his sweat on your lips was delicious, and you wanted more. He raised and lowered his body with perfect, fluid movements, occasionally dripping some sweat on your legs.

"Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty."

You practically moaned, "Let's hit the locker room."

"Whatever you say, Coach Baby," he murmured against your neck as he easily stood with you in his arms and opened the front door.

You ran your fingers through his damp hair and whispered, "When I say the locker room, I really mean your bedroom. And I expect this stellar performance to continue. Understand?"

"You got it."

You somehow ended up underneath him on the bedroom floor as you asked, "Do you think you have a few more push ups in you, Seresin? I'll let you be my starter today if you can give me ten more."

Jake lowered himself down slowly and kissed you sweetly, and when he raised himself up again, you giggled and said, "One."

When he started to lower himself down again, you pushed his hair back from his forehead while he kissed you softly. "Two," you whispered as he pushed himself up.

The third kiss wasn't quite as sweet, and the fourth one wasn't either. The fifth kiss was a little rough, and the sixth ended with a swipe of his tongue against yours. The seventh one left you panting.

"Eight," you moaned, already needy for more. "Nine," you whined, spreading your legs a little wider underneath him. "Ten! That was quite a performance, Seresin."

Jake devoured your mouth, and you could practically taste his adrenaline as he pulled your shorts and underwear off. Your senses were all muddled as his lips found their way down to your bare inner thigh where he nipped you. "Ready for another kind of performance?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright," he said before pressing his lips to your pussy. "Count it out, Coach Baby."

You started out saying coherent numbers in order, and then you couldn't focus as you rambled off whatever came to your mind. "Thirty-five? I don't know, Jake. Oh my god! Jake!" His tongue was working you into a frenzy as he tasted and licked you up and down. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling a little hard on the strands as he made you come on his face. "Fifty! One hundred! Two thousand!" you panted, and you could hear him chuckle as you started to come down from your orgasm. "I forgot how to count."

"You sure did," he drawled softly, pulling you into his arms. "Let's hit the showers."

-------------------------------

Jake had you giggling, pinned against the tile wall of his shower. Your fingertips were all wrinkly from being wet for so long, just like his, but he didn't want to get out yet.

"You still have some of my mascara on your cheeks," you whispered, running your prune-y thumbs gently along his skin before kissing him there. "That's better."

"I love you," he said before kissing the tip of your nose. "Coach Baby." That sent you into another fit of giggles. "I thought the whistle was a nice touch. Very hot."

"I'm glad you think so," you replied, running your fingers through his squeaky clean hair. "We should get out. The boys will all be here pretty soon."

Jake looked at you in surprise. It was Super Bowl Sunday, and you'd managed to distract him for several hours with your antics. "You're right," he said as he turned off the water. "Damn, you're good. You know that?"

"Of course I do," you said with a smirk as he handed you a towel. "Now let me put my pretty pink jersey on again so the Cowboys can win the big game for you."

And with those words, Jake was somehow instantly thrumming with need again as you walked out of the bathroom wrapped in the towel. He followed you and helped you into your jersey just in time for Bob, Javy and Bradley to arrive, and the guys all greeted you just like you were one of them. You were even talking game stats as you assembled another charcuterie board that they all demolished within twenty minutes of the start of the game.

Mickey spilled a High Noon on your lap when he laughed too hard at a Doritos commercial, and Reuben ate the last slice of pizza with your preferred topping, but you never complained about anything. And Jake couldn't even remember what Sundays were like before he had you. Not that he wanted to.

"It looks like your Cowboys are going to win," you gasped excitedly when there were just two minutes left in the game and they got possession of the ball once more. "I knew they would do it."

"All thanks to you, Coach Baby," he whispered, kissing you breathless while the game played in the background.

-------------------------

Jake and I will be cheering for the Cowboys today. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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luxaofhesperides · 6 months

Note

For the ghostlights drabbles: “Say my name” with a favor being called in?

Duke had saved Phantom years ago, back when he was just out of high school and working to take down a branch of the government that was kidnapping and experimenting on people, targeting magic users and metas. Phantom had been working on his own to take them down, and they met in the middle, trashing a lab and freeing as many people as they could.

They had managed to shoot his back, knocking him down and making him bleed a glowing green. Phantom couldn’t move, protecting two kids with his body, and Duke couldn’t reach them in time before they were taken away by another swarm of agents.

He was able to go after them in time, free Phantom and the kids, and evacuated the victims before Phantom rained hell down on the facility.

At the end, standing in the background as they watched paramedics treat the victims and take them towards the nearest hospitals, Phantom had turned towards him and thanked him.

Or rather, he thanked the Signal and offered him a bracelet with a rounded orb of ice, glowing faintly in the dark. If you ever need me, he had said, Hold this, and call me name.

Phantom vanished once the last of the victims were transported to a safer location, and Duke hadn’t seen him since.

He’s kept up with news about Phantom as best he can, but from what he could tell, Phantom is based primarily in Amity Park, Illinois, and the town is fiercely protective of their hero. News rarely leaks out of there, and with them running on their own servers and independent internet, it was nearly impossible to get in from the outside.

Phantom remained a curious and distant figure in Duke’s life. He holds onto the bracelet still, guarding it carefully and sometimes running his fingers over the ice that never melts.

But he doesn’t call in that favor. He’s never to.

At least, not until now.

Sucking in a breath, Duke prepares himself and holds the orb of ice in the palm of his hand. He’s in civies, unable to hide his identity for this, and closes his eyes. “Phantom,” he says.

For a moment, nothing happens. Duke blinks his eyes open and frowns, mind already forming new plans to contact Phantom. Then the ice goes bitingly cold, almost painful, and the temperature in the room drops dramatically. The ice lifts up from his hand, floating in the air, then cracks open.

White-blue light spills out of it, growing brighter as it seems to swallow up the room entirely. Duke hurries to back up, an arm thrown up to protect his eyes. His breath mists out before him and he shivers as the sound of ice cracking fills the room.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the light disappears and the cold fades away like a bad dream.

Slowly, Duke lowers his arm and looks up at Phantom, floating in the middle of his living room with a crown made of ice, engulfed in blue fire, hovers above his head. He looks older, more regal, holding his head high.

He regards Duke carefully for a minute, then tilts his head and says, “Signal?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Man, I’m so glad you came.”

“You… need help with something? You’re calling in your favor now, right?”

Duke nods. He understands Phantom’s confusion; being in the hero business means that favors like these tend to be used only during the most hopeless of times, when the world is close to ending, when the chances of getting out of a situation alive is close to impossible. It’s exactly the kind of thing Duke was expecting to call Phantom in for.

Not the kid sleeping on his couch.

“You’re a ghost, yeah?”

Phantom blinks at him. “Ghost king, now. Why?”

“Well…” Duke rubs the back of his neck, nervously. “I didn’t really know who else to call, and I can’t do this on my own since I’m not a ghost. But this kid got attached to me and won’t leave, so now I’m taking care of her and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know why you think I have any experience with kids but—”

“She’s a ghost.”

Phantom stops short. “Ah. I see.” He floats down until his feet touch the floor, and then he’s standing like any other person. “Where…?”

Duke looks past Phantom’s shoulder, and Phantom turns to follow his gaze. Chelsea, the ghost girl, looks to be around nine years old and is fast asleep on the couch, curled up under Duke’s softest blanket.

“Signal,” Phantom says quietly, “What, exactly, is the favor you need from me?”

“You can say no,” Duke starts. “I get that this is a lot. But I need help raising her. And since you’re a ghost, I figured you could help me learn about the ghostly side of things. You don’t have to raise her with me or anything! Just… I would appreciate any help you’re willing to give me.”

Phantom doesn’t say no. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at Chelsea, an unreadable expression on his face.

On the couch. Chelsea shifts in her sleep, brows furrowing as she makes a choked noise in the back of her throat.

Moving on autopilot after so many nights of this routine, Duke kneels next to the couch, fishing one of her hands from beneath the blanket. He gives it a few reassuring squeezes, keeping it a slow rhythm to pull her gently from her nightmare. She settles down in just a minute, brow smoothing out as she continues to sleep.

The silence grows and Duke is all too aware that his heart is the only one beating.

He doesn’t hear Phantom move. Doesn’t realize he’s right next to him until he sees Phantom’s hand reach out towards Chelsea. When Duke looks, Phantom is sitting on the floor next to Duke, looking at Chelsea with something soft and devastated in his eyes. His hand hovers about her head for a long moment, then slowly lowers to rest on her head.

The touch looks gently, barely putting any pressure on her head, but it’s enough to make Chelsea’s eyes snap open, suddenly wide awake. She stares at Phantom with wide eyes, then sits up and looks between him and Duke.

“Who are you?” she asks in a small voice that makes Duke want to stand against the world to keep her safe.

Phantom smiles. It’s casual and charming and makes him look like anyone else, as if he’s not a powerful king from a realm unreachable to humans. “Hi there,” he says, “I’m Danny. I’m a ghost like you. Signal called me and asked me to meet you.”

The Ghost King is good with kids. Who would have thought?

Chelsea looks at him for confirmation and only relaxes when he nods. “I’m Chelsea. What do you mean ghost? I’m not dead.”

Both he and Phantom tense, carefully keeping their expressions neutral. She hasn’t told him much at all, just that her parents were gone and forgot her and she got hurt, so she wanted to stay with ‘Mr. Signal’ because he’s a hero and heroes keep people safe and he was the only one who was Black like her. Duke hadn’t had the heart to say no, and began searching for her family, only to find that her parents had fled the state, and likely the country, after killing their only child through neglect and a dangerous environment.

It was then that he realized that her powers were not because she was a meta, but because she was ghost.

It still hurts to realize how young she is, how much of her life had been stolen from her in an instant. Duke hadn’t been brave enough to broach the topic with her, instead choosing to let her grow comfortable in his presence, get them both settled into a routine now that he was her primary guardian.

“I know it sounds scary,” Phantom says, “And you may not want to believe me, but it’s true. I’m sorry that you died so young, but that just means you get to hang out with me and other ghosts from now on!”

Chelsea crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “I am not dead,” she says.

“Cici, I’m sorry to say this, but you are,” Duke cuts in. “That’s why I called… Danny. You have new powers as a ghost, and he can help you get used to them.”

“I’m not dead!” she says again.

“Kid,” Phantom begins, but Chelsea shakes her head hard and hops off the couch.

“I’m not lying! Watch, I’ll prove it to you!” She closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose, concentrating. Her hands curl into tight fists by her sides, and the glow around her grows dim. Two faint, stuttering rings of light appear around her waist. They flicker and wobble in the air, as if weak and uncertain of their own existence, then split apart, one moving up towards her head while the other falls to her feet.

Beside him, Phantom sucks in a sharp breath, but Duke can’t turn to see what’s wrong when he’s trying to take in the sight of Chelsea suddenly full of vibrant color, looking more solid that he’s ever seen her, very much alive.

“See?” she says proudly, lifting her arms and doing a spin to show off her right she was. “I told you I’m not dead!”

“No, you’re not,” Phantom agrees, sounding shell-shocked. When Duke is finally able to look away from Chelsea to check on him, he looks awed. There’s the smallest smile on his face, just the slightest upturn of his lips, but it makes him look softer.

Duke turns his attention back to Chelsea before he can be caught staring. “Cici, can you come here for a second?”

She goes before he’s finished speaking, crossing the space between them in a single jump, then grins up at him. Her hair is a bit of a mess, the two buns he managed to get her hair into falling askew. He makes a note to visit the old aunties in the Narrows later to ask them to teach him how to do hair. For now, he holds out a hand and Chelsea drops an arm into it.

It seems to good to be true, having her be alive, but her pulse is steady and strong when he presses his thumb against the inside of her wrist.

“Well,” he says, leaning back and letting go of her arm. “You certainly proved us wrong.”

Chelsea doesn’t have much time to look smug before PHantom quietly says, “You’re like me.”

“What?”

“You’re like me,” he tells Chelsea. “A halfa.”

She tilts her head to one side. “What’s that?”

“Someone who is half human and half ghost. Both dead and alive.”

Duke blinks, taking in the words, then turns to face Phantom so quickly he’s worried he might give himself whiplash. Halfa, he said. Like me, he said.

And sure enough, two rings of light, bright and strong, appear around Phantom’s waist before splitting in half, moving over his entire body.

Gone is the Ghost King, all powerful and adorned in dark clothing with a crown of ice above his head. In his place is a guy who looks to be Duke’s age, eyes a deep blue and his black hair messy, feet set solidly on the floor. He looks completely normal, completely human, and no longer an impossibility.

“You still up for learning how to use all your new powers?” Phantom asks.

Chelsea grins. “Yeah!” And then, with a quick flick of her eyes going from Phantom to Duke that he almost misses, very innocently asks, “Are you going to stay with us then?”

“I… don’t know?” Phantom looks to Duke for an answer.

Already, Duke can see this going two ways. The correct way forward, the normal one, has Phantom popping in every so often, taking Chelsea out for a few hours to work on training her and her powers. It’s easy and routine and they can keep their boundaries uncrossed and be professional.

The other path is what Duke wants most that he shouldn’t impose onto the literal Ghost King. He could have Phantom living with them while he’s on Earth and out of Amity Park, having a place at the table, a section in the closet for his own clothes, a quietly domestic night together while Chelsea sleeps where they can get to know each other more, get to know each other outside of news reports and texts on a screen.

“You can stay with us if you want,” Duke offers, casually, “It might keep my apartment safe from her powers acting up on their own again.”

“Are you sure? I could always just fly in on the weekends or something.”

“I’d appreciate having you around. So you can help Cici.”

“If you don’t mind,” Phantom says, looking away. Like this, fully alive with a beating heart, it’s easy to see the blush steal away across his cheeks.

“I don’t.”

“I don’t either!” Chelsea pops in, looking far too gleeful by their awkward conversation.

Duke can’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than he had in ages. The relief of knowing that Chelsea is alive, for the most part at least, eases the guilt of thinking he had been too late to save her, that there was no chance she could have made it out and had a future, makes him feel weak. All the exhaustion of the past few weeks hits him all at once and he wants nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep for twelve hours.

“Alright, squirt,” he says, reaching out to pat her head. “It’s late. We can talk more in the morning, so go to bed. In your actual bed this time, not on the couch.”

Chelsea stands up taller, ready to argue, but Duke gives her a Look™ and she quickly shuts her mouth, nods, and drags her feet back to her room (the former guestroom he can never give any of the other Waynes ever again, once they find out about her).

Sighing, Duke collapses onto the couch once he hears the door shut behind her. Phantom joins him after a few seconds, sitting tentatively on the edge of the couch. The cushion moves beneath his weight, another reminder of how solid and alive he is right not.

Duke wants to touch him, to reach out and feel for himself his pulse, the warmth of his body, his chest lifting with each breath.

He doesn’t move. He stays where he is, hands carefully still, and tries to think past the dizzying thoughts of she’s still alive, I’m not too late, he’s still here, he’s alive.

“Rough week?” Phantom asks, voice purposefully light.

“Something like that.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can. Not after everything. My mind’s too loud right now.”

Phantom shifts closer to him, hesitant in a way that Duke has never seen before in him, and asks, “Want me to stay with you until you mind quiets down some?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks, Phantom.”

“You know, if I’m going to be around so often as Chelsea’s halfa mentor, then you might as well call me Danny.”

Truth be told, Duke didn’t think that was his real name. He’s glad to know it’s not.

“Then call me Duke.”

“...Are you sure? You could still hide your identity from me.”

“Nah, I trust you. A name for a name, yeah?”

Danny smiles. “Duke,” he says, testing out the name, and it’s never sounded better than when it falls from Danny’s mouth.

“Danny,” Duke returns. He belatedly realizes that they’ve leaned towards each other, drawn together like gravity, stuck in each other’s orbit. It feels natural. It feels like this is where they’re meant to be.

Maybe he should be more cautious. They’ve only meant once before, after all. But he’s read all he could on Phantom and has seen how Amity Park loves him. He’s stressed and exhausted and trying to figure out how to look after a half-ghost child that’s already been dealt a bad hand in life. He should be keeping Phantom at a distance, watching over him carefully to ensure he isn’t a threat to Chelsea.

But Duke saw how he acted with Chelsea, so gentle and understanding and kind. That’s all he needed to see.

He may not know much about Danny, but he knows this: he is trustworthy.

Enough to entrust his identity to him.

Enough to entrust Chelsea to him.

It’s more than a favor; it’s a promise to walk this road together.

There’s no one he’d rather do this with.

“Thanks,” he says again, “For all of this. I know it’s a lot.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t mind. Really. It’s nice to know there’s another halfa out there, no matter how she came to be one. Makes things feel less lonely.”

“Will you tell me more about halfas?”

“Later. Once you get some proper rest. We’ve got time, haven’t we?”

“We do,” Duke agrees, affection settling warm in his chest. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Learning how to control her new powers won’t be easy for Chelsea. Learning how to take care of her won’t be easy. Learning how to do things together, as Duke and Danny rather than the Signal and Phantom, won’t be easy. But Duke knows with a certainty he feels in his bones that they’re going to be fine.

So long as they’ve got each other, they’ll be fine.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #thought a lot abt what the favor could be but i could not resist the idea of surprise co-parents once i thought of it #here's a kid who clings to someone she knows is safe bc she is scared and alone!!#heres a stressed out hero trying to take care of a kid with no knowledge of how to do that!! and the kid is a ghost!!#heres a ghost king expecting to be used as a weapon and called in for a big battle suddenly finding another halfa!!!#so much going on here. so much to think abt with this!!!!!#i do love found family like this where they all kinda stumble into it and do their best to make it good #also could not resist making yet another oc. chelsea has my whole heart i love her <3 shes my daughter first #the bats dont know abt chelsea yet!! bc she can go invisble. its all been instinct every time they pop over to visit duke #soon she'll be able to control it and meet them properly #by properly i mean dukes gonna go over for sunday brunch and a little girl is gonna pop out from behind him like 'hi! im new!'#they will all love her of course. they will be shocked but happy!!#and a little less happy abt the GHOST KING duke has been hiding in his apartment that hes co-parenting with #sorry for the long tags im obsessed w this idea i want to Expand on it #maybe one day... with my other wips out of the way...

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