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theoldsports · 2 days

Text

SOUR.

Art Donaldson x Reader (Patrick Zweig x Reader) | SORRY series | 4.2k words

it’s finally here by popular demand. Patrick has entered the plot. this is set before all of the prior chapters, two days before the Donaldson wedding. can be read as part of the SORRY SERIES (read more episodes of their lives here) or on its own. lemme know if you’d like to be on the taglist.

warnings: 18+. angst. it’s brutal angst. more than allusions to Patrick’s canonical use of hard drugs. rehab, allusion to an OD, mention of Art’s disordered eating patterns. they’re bad for each other in a good way. the Donaldsons have a friendly dog. coveting another man’s wife. discussion of niche sexual fantasies. making out. biting. tornados/extreme weather. running away from your problems.

“Art?”

“Nngh.”

“Artie, wake up.”

“‘M up. Fhhh… ‘m up. What’s the matter?” Art grumbled with half shut eyes. “Somethin’ wrong?” He whispered even though they were alone. It was nighttime which meant whispering to Art.

“I don’t like this storm.”

What a sign that storm should have been.

Art smirked. “We’re getting married in, like, three days and you’re worried about the weather?”

“There’s a tornado warning. Or watch. Whichever the worse one is. I saw it on the news.”

Art frowned. “You ever been through a tornado?”

“No.”

Art rolled over from his position in [Y/N]’s arms to face her nose to nose. “I have. A lot. Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. His arm slotted into the dip of her waist and pulled her closer. “Close ‘em for me. That’s it, that’s it.” He coaxed as she followed his directions.

“I don’t see what this has to do with—“

“Shh, listen,” they both got quiet. Rain pelted against the windows. Wind whistled. Branches cracked and crunched. Thunder boomed. [Y/N] could see the gleam of lightning even behind her eyelids. “Hear it?”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Congrats. Your ears are workin’ best as they can,” Art teased to try and get his fiancé to crack a smile. “Now, which one’s the loudest? Which of the sounds?”

“You breathing.”

“I’m flattered. Which one outside?”

[Y/N] listened. “Right now? The rain, I think.”

“We’re in the clear for now. Let me know when the wind’s louder. Like that real, real crazy whooshing, whistling sound. When it starts whipping like that, we’ll go in the bathroom and lock the doors, yeah? Hell, we can head in now if it would make you feel better?”

“What if I fall asleep before the weather gets worse?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay awake,” Art yawned. “How about I get you up if I notice a disturbance. I gotta take care of my wife, right?”

“I’m not your wife.”

Art sighed. “…I know. I’m just practicing.”

Fortunately, no tornado ever touched down. And Art was still there when [Y/N] woke up.

It always amazed her that Art was still there everyday. For every nasty thing she said to him that she didn’t mean, every argument where she told him Patrick was right, every tennis match won or lost, every natural disaster, every tear shed. Art was there for all of it. He liked the bad moments as much as the good ones because it meant simply more time spent by [Y/N]’s side. He wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

It was too much power, [Y/N] frequently thought, that she had over Art.

[Y/N] faced Art and brushed his strawberry blonde hair away from his forehead. Art often looked exhausted. He wore his tiredness on his face and shoulders. The exhaustion of constantly chasing, people-pleasing and being a professional athlete could destroy a kid. Art wore it like a Boy Scout badge. [Y/N] could watch him look relaxed forever. It was so rare he looked like that.

“Good morning, guard dog,” [Y/N] whispered. Art stirred. She could tell he was awake even though his eyes were shut due to that crease the reappeared between his eyebrows. It was never not there in his waking moments. Slowly, Art’s hand crept up and gently clutched [Y/N]’s wrist. Art used his grip to slide [Y/N]’s hand down his own drowsy face. He planted a kiss on her palm before tiredly looking at her. “Good morning.” She repeated to him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” [Y/N] replied. Gray sunlight filtered through the window. “You ready for today?” She smirked.

“What’s today?”

“Patrick’s in town.”

Art dramatically threw his arm over his face and groaned. “I thought he was in tomorrow… Everything was so peaceful… And quiet,” Art mumbled into his elbow. He couldn’t keep a straight face for long and resolved into a soft laugh. “Whose babysitting?” He asked, peering his blue and brown eyes over his arm.

“I’m picking up the cake today, so I figured I could use his strength.”

Art sat up a bit. “You’re getting it today?”

“In the later afternoon, yeah. Why?”

“It’s gonna be, like, stale.”

[Y/N] glanced over at Art. “If we had gotten cupcakes like I wanted, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You’re such a little jerk.” Art teased.

“Me!” [Y/N] gasped. “It doesn’t even matter because it’s not like you’re gonna eat it anyway because you don’t eat anything.”

“Little jerk!” Art said with his crooked smile widening. He leaned in, slotting an arm over her. “You heard me. You’re a little… troublemaking jerk.” Art’s nose almost pressed against hers.

“Oh yeah? Why are you marrying me then, hm?”

“…You’re pretty,” Art grinned almost timidly, bowing his head. His flat vocal timber sounded like the verbal equivalent of a blush. “Like, really, really pretty. Even if you suck.” Tenderly, Art leaned the rest of the way in to kiss [Y/N]. Once and then twice and then seven times. Maybe fourteen.

And they would have stayed like that all day.

They would have.

BANG BANG BANG.

Like gunshots.

Their lips parted and they held long eye contact. They paused. They sighed.

“Patrick.” They both said.

With a bend of his arms, the full weight of Art’s toned body collapsed on top of [Y/N]’s.

“Pretty baby!”

“No. ‘M pretending he’s not out there,” He laid flat on her, head on her chest. “Can’t go anywhere now.”

BANG BANG BANG on the front door again. Cheese, the couple’s Labrador mix barked at the sound from downstairs.

“Art!”

“Mhm-mm. Nope. Too bad. Sucks for Patrick.”

[Y/N] huffed. “You’re upsetting the dog.”

“He’s upsetting the dog,” Art started to laugh. “He showed up early. I’m just laying here. Hey, hey!” Art jeered as [Y/N] wiggled out from underneath him from backwards. She tried to inch away off the side of the bed. Her shoulders slumped against the carpet, while Art held her legs in place on the bed. [Y/N] dangled in a half on-half off sort of way. Her oversized Stanford t-shirt rolled up during the drama, exposing her breasts to Art. Unashamed, he stared.

[Y/N] twisted her foot into the side of Art’s face, causing a small cry of disgust from him. Just enough chaos for her to slip away. Without hesitation, she tossed the lightweight door open and skittered down the stairs with Art’s long gate keeping pace behind her. His arms reached out in an attempt to grab her. “He’s early! He can wait! He’s never been early in his whole fucking life!” Art laughed. Cheese jumped and barked at the hysteria.

The chase continued until [Y/N]’s hand hit the doorknob and chain. She unlocked it immediately. As [Y/N] ripped the door open, Art’s arm encircled her waist yanking her to the side with the force of his momentum, causing her to laugh with glee.

And on the other side of the door was Patrick Zweig.

Smiling impishly, Patrick took in the disheveled appearances of his two favorite people. He bit the inside of his cheek. “Nice boner.” Patrick smirked at Art, while he pulled [Y/N] into a side hug.

Art didn’t have a boner, or at least a proper one. But the comment was enough to get Art to look. He rolled his eyes and pulled Patrick in for a hug. Cheese ran over to the door for attention, when Art greeted Patrick.

Art closed the door. Patrick ducked down to greet the Labrador too. He liked Cheese, but wouldn’t necessarily choose to be around a dog in his free time the way that Art and [Y/N] did. Cheese really liked Patrick, much to his chagrin, so he pretended to be nice. While Patrick sat on the floor with the animal, he looked up at his best friends. “What’s with the clothes? You just get up?” Art with no shirt in just tube socks and boxers, and [Y/N] in Art’s old college shirt and underwear. They had all seen each other like this so many times growing up that no one particularly cared that the future Donaldsons looked so post coital. It was pretty normal. Patrick’s smirk sliced further across his unwashed face with the ghost of a laugh. “Were you guys fucking?” He said like a horny teenager.

[Y/N] laughed hard and kissed her lifelong best friend on top of the head on her way to make a pot of coffee in the kitchen. “No.” Art sighed in disappointment, flopping onto one of the barstools in the kitchen. This disappointment was either disappointment in Patrick for asking, or disappointment in the lack of sex due to Patrick’s arrival. It was Patrick’s fault either way.

When the dog got bored, Cheese wandered into the kitchen for nonexistent scraps. Patrick pulled up a chair next to Art and dropped his backpack on the floor. “How’s it going, man? You look good. Feeling ready?” He asked, leaning forward to tap Art across his bare knee.

Art nodded as if it say it’s a sure thing. “Thanks. We miss you. We appreciate you being here. It means a lot.”

“I appreciate you being here,” [Y/N] cut in. “Because you’re in my half of the wedding party.” She and Art were always in constant competition over who loved Patrick more. Art wanted him to be his best man. [Y/N] won out, though, having known him since the age of seven and Art only since age twelve.

“Ladies please. Not all at once.” Patrick said. He stood from his chair and wrapped his long arms around [Y/N] in a proper hug finally. Briefly, his chin rested on her head. He stopped before it went on too long.

“Good to see you, kid. How’s it going?” At two months older, [Y/N] had been calling Patrick ‘kid’ diminutively for almost two decades. It was cuter before he got so tall.

“I called you yesterday.” He replied dryly, stepping back to look at her. [Y/N] noted Patrick’s intimately familiar eyes. Too wide, pupils too dilated. Hm. He wore a long sleeved sweater and jeans. And dirty tennis shoes.

“You bring something nicer than this for Saturday?” She teased, pulling on one of his holey sleeves.

Art snorted at Patrick’s expense and cracked a smile. His freckled elbows leaned onto the counter. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here for two seconds, ‘n you’re already giving me tsuris?” Patrick quipped to [Y/N].

“Tsuris… Never thought I’d say it, but you sound like your mom, Patrick.” [Y/N] scoffed. Art snorted a laugh too.

Patrick frowned. “Guess I have to kill myself then.” He joked harshly to more laughter from the other two. M

“Yep. Have some coffee. Both of you. I’m going to put pants on.” [Y/N] turned away and moved to the stairs.

“Aw, do you have to?” Patrick called after her. [Y/N] tossed a middle finger up over her shoulder as she walked away. Art hissed at Patrick’s comment.

“Do you have to flirt with my wife?” Art sneered without malice.

Patrick smiled that boyish small, wicked, unassuming smile. “She’s not your wife yet.” He snapped back. Art smiled at him in return. The two held each other’s gaze adorned with sick grins for a moment before both of them dissolved into laughter. Everything was a competition, but it was only real if they brought it up.

Fast forward a few hours and Patrick and [Y/N] were in the car. Art had taken off for a haircut because his mom thought he looked like a messy little punk and wedding pictures were forever. [Y/N] drove because Patrick drove too fast and without mercy. He had a sports car once when he was in school and still spoke to his parents daily and had notably wrapped it around a telephone pole and walked out without nary a scratch. How’s that for nine lives?

[Y/N] had a sedan.

She and Patrick both held a cigarette out each of their respective windows as she drove.

“You should really quit, y’know.” She told Patrick.

He leaned over and blew smoke in her face. “Yeah, I’ll quit when you do.”

Patrick’s rude gesture didn’t bear acknowledging. “It’s different. You’re an athlete. I watch movies and review them for a living. It’s expected of me. You… you’re making your performance actively worse. You’re kneecapping yourself by choice.” [Y/N] explained.

“I’m good enough to take the hit.”

[Y/N] laughed and took a drag of her cigarette, asking it out the window. “And you’re arrogant enough to make that comment. Sometimes I look at you and you’re still thirteen. I swear to God. It’s fuckin’ funny,” she said. It was quiet for a moment. “Art, though. He doesn’t smoke anymore.”

“I don’t believe you,” Patrick replied immediately with a wild look in his eye. That was apparently a big surprise. “He’s totally lying to you. There’s no way—“

“Nope! Quit on his own too. He just decided he was done with it one day and got all pro-athlete about it.”

“Y-you’re wrong! You’re so wrong. He’s a liar. Last time I was in town, we—“

“No. No fucking way,” [Y/N] shook her head in manic disbelief. “When you came by to—“

“Mhm. Yep. On the patio. You didn’t notice?”

[Y/N] shook her head. “No sense of smell because of… I’m a smoker. I just… He’s such a shit.”

“A shit and a hypocrite!” They both laughed. When the glee dampened naturally and the cigarette butts were pitched out the window, Patrick looked over at [Y/N]. One good, long look. “You ready for Saturday?” Patrick asked because he was a masochist.

[Y/N] found herself often thinking back on this moment. Was this when it had gone wrong beyond repair?

[Y/N] sighed. She would only ever tell Patrick and maybe Art this. “Yes and no.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t say it like that. I have been ready to marry Art since I was, like, seventeen years old. It is unfathomable to me how much love I am capable of giving him, y’know? If he wanted the Mona Lisa, I’d be robbing the Louvre tomorrow. He’s it for me,” she said. Patrick faked a smile very convincingly and nodded for her to go on. “What I’m not looking forward to is everyone I know being in the same room at the same time. I don’t like other people except you and Art. And my editor. That’s about it.”

“You’re not at all worried about spending all that time married to someone?” Patrick tried to jab at her with his words while he scratched his right forearm.

“Not with Art.”

“Wow. That’s awfully grownup of you.”

“Yeah, well. I’m a grownup. With a smokin’ hot fiancé. And he actually cares if I live or die. Isn’t that crazy? My parents weren’t like that with each other. It’s… Am I allowed to say how grateful I am to you for bringing him home for break that one time, or is that stupid?”

“It’s kinda stupid,” he agreed teasingly. In reality, he wanted more than anything to put himself out of his misery. My fault, my fault, my fault. The words looped in Patrick’s head on constant repeat. He wanted to rip his skin off for so many different reasons. He couldn’t take it and he was trapped. Fuck.

Patrick scratched his right forearm again.

“Truth or dare?” Patrick slurred. He was twenty-one and drunk for [Y/N]’s birthday. She, Art and Patrick sat on the disgusting archaic carpet in Art’s dorm room.

“Uh, truth.” [Y/N] said too soberly to sober.

“Boring!” Art said, putting his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh.

Patrick took a long swing of his beer while he thought. “Okay, okay. What’s your weirdest sexual fantasy?” He asked.

“Ew.” [Y/N] wrinkled her nose.

Art thought the question was epic, but wasn’t going to facilitate his girl’s discomfort. “Hey, it’s her birthday, she doesn’t have to—“

“Um, no. I’ll do it. This is an actual dream I had. I think about it kinda all the time. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. It so dumb. So, it’s Art and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with coffee or something. And Art… sings me Happy Birthday like Marilyn Monroe did for JFK. And he’s dressed like Marilyn, but like a boy. No dress, but like the boy version of that look. Then we fuck. That’s weirder than you wanted. That was weird, right?” [Y/N] rambled.

Art leaned in closer to her. They were all drunk as skunks and he couldn’t help bite his lip. His arm pulled her closer to him. Art was handsy when drunk, they were all learning.

“Whose Jackie O?” Patrick asked.

“No Jackie O. And I’m not JFK. He’s just Marilyn. Gentlewomen prefer blondes.” [Y/N] had laughed so hard at that while she tangled her fingers in Art’s sandy hair.

The car ride to get cake and the drive back was the last proper conversation [Y/N] and Patrick had. The pair got home. Nothing seemed unusual to [Y/N] at all. They talked the whole time without any dry spells. The cake, in pieces to be assembled, was carefully toted in and placed way out of the way from disaster. Patrick took his bag to the bathroom, claiming he was going to shower.

[Y/N] shouted after him. “You know where the towels are!”

Patrick looked back over his shoulder at her with a smirk and closed the bathroom door behind him.

And he went out through the bathroom window.

[Y/N] had no idea he had gone until she heard his car start. For a minute, she thought it was the neighbors. She walked halfway down her hallway and saw the bathroom door open. No running shower water, no half nude Patrick shaving or something. She ran back down the hall and glanced out the kitchen window and watched his new white SUV whip out of the driveway.

[Y/N] stood there for several minutes. Staring and staring and staring after him. Not a single effort to move. The first thing she did was pick up her blue slidephone from beside the sink. She called Art, not Patrick. Patrick made his choice.

[Y/N] hadn’t realized she was crying when Art picked up on the other line.

“Honey? Honey, you there? You buttdial me?” Art said. [Y/N] thinks he said shit like that for several moments before she spoke. She just faced the window and stared for what felt like ages.

“Patrick’s gone.”

“Hm?”

“Patrick’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone.”

“He climbed through the bathroom window and drove off. We-we didn’t have a fight. Or-or… He just left. Like it was nothing.”

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are.”

Art rushed back in his blue-black jeep wrangler. It ripped into the smooth driveway causing the tires to damn near squeal. When he got out of his car and bounded to the door, it was clear that about half of his hair had been cut instead of all of it. [Y/N] would have laughed in an ideal situation.

“Baby, hey, what happened?” Art said breathlessly as he unlocked the door. [Y/N] sat at the seldom used dining room table the two of them used to hold their junk mail, sitting straight up and looking through Art. Art was alarmed. She never sat at the table and rarely was her face so expressionless. She was always feeling, expressing, something. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, but her eyes were red.

“Patrick seems to have decided not to join us this weekend.” [Y/N] said clearly.

Art closed up the door behind him and walked over to [Y/N]. His scraggly hair and bewildered expression lessened into some devastated softness. He knelt, as he often did, in front of her and took her softer hands in his. “Can you tell me what happened?” Art asked quietly. He felt angry tears sting at the corner of his own traitorous eyes.

“We went out, got the cake, got smoothies, and came back. We… He didn’t say anything weird. Nothing happened.”

“Okay. And then?”

“No, I mean, nothing happened. Like, he was on his best behavior. Like, he was doing so well. He seemed okay. Really okay, y’know?” [Y/N]’s voice broke and finally betrayed her. She choked on her last words and the tears followed. Art’s right hand traveled up the side of [Y/N] face to rest there in comfort. “We talked about everything, like always. He was totally fine. I swear. Then we got home and he says I’m gonna take a shower, or something. And then I heard his car pull away. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna fucking murder him.” Art said, shaking his head and gritting his teeth. He stood from the floor and pulled his own phone out of his pocket. Art leaned against the table [Y/N] sat at. He called Patrick. Then he called him again. And another time. Up to what felt like twelve times or so. He left voicemail after voicemail.

“Hey, call me.”

“Hey, it’s Art. Call me.”

“Art again. Call me back. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry about the last one. Patrick, call me. Are you coming home?”

“Hey, man. Fuck you. Fuck off.”

“I’m sorry about the last one too. I’m… Understandably, I’m kinda… Fucking pissed at you. I don’t need to talk to you like that, though. Are you okay? Are you safe? What happened? You can talk to me.”

“You’re an asshole. I wish you could see the look on [Y/N]’s face right now.”

“Don’t come back.”

Eventually, the voicemail box was full.

[Y/N] reached wordlessly for Art’s hand. She could feel his rare anger climbing. He got this ridiculous blush across his cheeks when he got angry and she could see it against the sunset’s glow. “Art?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened,” He said, turning his eyes to her. “I’m so sorry, hon.”

“It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize, pretty baby.”

“Yeah, but he’s my best friend. He’s your best friend,” He ranted. “That was a dick move to leave like that. I’m sorry that happened to you. He’s a piece of shit.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No! I do. I do mean that. For the last year, he’s treated us, especially you like trash. Do you not see how much more you deserve, [Y/N]? I don’t know what’s going on with him… Do you?”

“He’s…” [Y/N] looked down. “You think he’s using again?”

Art didn’t say anything, he just looked down. That was answer enough. [Y/N] buried her face in her hands with a shuddering sob. Art pulled her to her feet and into his chest. He buried his face in her hair, unable to hold his own tears back. Eventually, the pair landed on the sagging green couch. Art’s legs wrapped around [Y/N]’s middle. They kept the news on all night. In case he matched an accident description. They called hospitals and hunted for John Does that were over six feet with dark hair and stubble.

“What are we gonna do? He’s… He’s not coming back, is he?” [Y/N] whispered. Cheese rested his heavy beige head on her thigh. He obviously didn’t understand why Patrick had gone either.

“No, I don’t think he is,” Art replied, lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry.

Pathetically, [Y/N] raised her head to Art. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything.” He said. [Y/N] forced Art to lean back against the couch and she laid her head on his chest. Cheese circled for a new position where he could be touching them both at the same time.

[Y/N] knew it was a little bit her fault. She leaned up and kissed Art on the corner of his lips. “It’s my fault.”

“Then it’s both of our faults. You can’t talk about yourself like that. You’re the only you I’ve got, babe.” Art huffed tiredly.

[Y/N] dug her hands into Art’s hair the way he liked. “Can I fix your haircut? Haircut’s a generous way to describe it.”

“Damn, I was actually trying out this new thing. You don’t think it’s cool?”

“Yeah, it’s big for guys who blindly answer their wife’s phone calls, I hear.” [Y/N] said weakly.

Wife was all Art heard and he melted.

“I have never known someone I love as much as you,” Art said. “I’m all in with you. You know that, right?”

“‘Course I do.” [Y/N] did know. She sunk her teeth into the freckled skin on Art’s right shoulder gently and he moaned. Over top of the spot, [Y/N] left a trail of kisses down Art’s bicep.

“I’m gonna call his mom.” He said once [Y/N]’s pace had slowed. Art’s stomach growled. When he got upset, he didn’t eat. [Y/N] told herself it was because he had forgotten to in stressful moments, but wondered if it was a punishment instead. She pretending she hadn’t heard the sound.

“They don’t talk.”

“I know. Just in case he turns up.”

Patrick did turn up. About ten hours later, wet and unconscious in the emergency room. Following a psych eval, Patrick went to a short stint in rehab. He had gone once prior at the age of twenty. Needless to say Patrick missed the wedding. It was too much money to up and cancel, according to Art’s piece of shit stepfather, Douglas. Patrick made no efforts to contact the Donaldsons since leaving, as he left or following rehab. Despite all of Art and [Y/N]’s tireless efforts to find him, all they had to show for it was his disconnected phone number and a crippling feeling of shame and loss. Patrick had vanished from their lives without giving either one of them a say.

Patrick was gone.

But Art was there for all of it.

TAGLIST:

@toxiclovergirl @basicallynotbreathing @miniemonie2001 @valentine333 @tremendoushorsepeachbanana-blog @athxnss @babyspice6 @diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @avylanchce @shysstuff @soberbabes @ysuftmikey @pussy-f41ry

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #sorry series #challengers movie #challengers #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig

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spaceman-earthgirl · 2 days

Text

“Did you see this?” Lena asks, holding her phone out towards Kara. “It’s about your cousin.”

Kara’s instantly worried. If there’s a news article about Clark, there’s only two things it could be. One, he’s been in a big fight or something else dangerous has happened, or if it’s about Clark, and not Superman, then that could only spell bad news for Clark and his secret identity.

Kara’s heart actually stops for a moment when she sees “Clark Kent” in the headline, but lets out a sigh of relief when she realises it’s not a Daily Planet article, but an article from an online gossip magazine.

Lois Lane and Clark Kent, Metropolis’s Hottest New Couple?

Kara quickly scans the article, which is nothing but gossip, and two photos, one of Clark and Lois holding hands, another of the couple leaning close at a restaurant.

Kara smiles as she hands the phone back to Lena. Despite the lack of privacy some papparazi have, Kara is happy for her cousin.

“So, it’s true then?”

Kara nods. “It is. Clark called me last week. He was so happy they’re soulmates. Anyone with eyes could see they belong together but it’s nice to have it confirmed.”

And nice for Kara too. She’d always wondered if it was still possible that she could have a soulmate, one not from Krypton.

Turns out it is.

“That’s-“ Lena cuts herself off. “Wait, confirmed? What do you mean?”

Kara’s eyes widen as she realises her slip. She’s thought about telling Lena in so many different ways, at so many different times. But fear has always stopped her. What if she told Lena the truth, what if they kissed, and she finds out Lena isn’t her soulmate?

Kara’s never felt this way about anyone before, doesn’t think she could ever feel like this about anyone else either.

“I…do you believe in soulmates?” Kara asks, stalling slightly.

“No.” Lena replies. “Or I didn’t, until you just implied that soulmates are real.”

read the rest on ao3 or under the cut

Kara sighs. There’s no getting out of this. “They’re not real, at least not on Earth. Or not usually. Lois is the only human I’ve seen or heard of that has a soulmate. Clark and Lois are soulmates. All Kryptonian’s have one.”

“Are you…” Lena narrows her eyes. “You’re being serious?”

Kara nods. “The legend goes that Rao picks your soulmate, the person whose soul matches yours, the one most suited to you. But he doesn’t tell you who it is, you have to find that person yourself.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, they just find each other.” Kara had lost hope, with no one but her cousin left on Earth. But then she’d found Lena. Even before Clark had told her about Lois, she’d wondered if Lena could be her soulmate. “And then after your first kiss, a mark appears on your skin with their name, and that’s how you know they’re the one.”

Kara can see Lena’s mind working. “Does that mean Clark and Lois now have the other’s name written on each other?”

Kara laughs. “Yes. It was actually pretty funny when Clark called me, he’d had to explain to a very confused Lois why she now had a tattoo of Clark’s name.”

“So, you have to kiss someone to know?”

Kara nods. “I’m not sure why. I think it gives you a chance to get to know someone before you find out you’re destined to be together.”

“Have you found your soulmate?”

Kara shakes her head, though it feels wrong when she’s pretty sure her soulmate is right in front of her. Not that she knows for sure. “Not yet.”

“Do you wonder, every time you kiss someone, that they’ll be the one?”

“Yes and no. When I was younger, I’d hoped, just to prove I wasn’t alone. Sometimes I know they’re not the one, but now I know there’s someone out there for me, and I just have to wait.”

Lena lets out a little laugh. “I guess it puts more pressure on a first kiss, like there isn’t enough already.”

Kara laughs too. “It really does.” She can’t help but wonder, that without this extra pressure, whether she would have already told Lena how she feels.

“Who knows,” Lena says, still smiling. “It could even be me.”

Kara chokes on nothing. The hand that appears at Kara’s back, soothing up and down as Kara tries to catch her breath, doesn’t help at all.

“It…it could be,” Kara finally manages to get out.

Lena looks amused, clearly enjoying Kara’s struggle, and Kara suddenly wants to do nothing more than kiss that look off of Lena’s face.

Lena shrugs. “We’ve never kissed so you never know.”

“I haven’t kissed a lot of people,” Kara points out unnecessarily. “It could be any of them too.” She’s not sure why she says it, except for the fact she wants to point the focus of the conversation away from Lena and kissing.

“Well, you’re not getting any younger, you need to start crossing people off that list.”

Kara rolls her eyes and suddenly everything feels back to normal, she’s just talking to her best friend, the person besides Alex she trusts most in the universe.

“Are you hungry, we could-“ Kara starts, assuming the conversation is over, at least for now, until Kara can work up the courage to tell Lena how she feels, but Lena isn’t done.

“Kara,” Lena cuts in, looking suddenly serious. “I don’t know if I’m way off here but I know I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about this.” Lena reaches out and takes Kara’s hand and Kara’s breath catches in her chest. “Please tell me you feel this too? Please tell me I’m not the only one who’s fallen in love with their best friend? I didn’t even believe in soulmates before today but I’ve always believed we found each other for a reason, that we belong together. And maybe this is why.”

There are tears in Lena’s eyes by the time she finishes talking and Kara’s own heart is racing as she reaches up to catch a tear before it spills down Lena’s cheek.

And then she doesn’t even think as she leans forward, capturing Lena’s lips in a kiss she’s dreamt about too many times to count.

Lena’s breath catches as their lips meet and now Kara’s crying too as Lena’s hand grips her shirt, holding her close.

The kiss is brief, only because Kara’s forgotten something crucial and she has to tell Lena. “I love you, too,” Kara says as she pulls back, the words brushing Lena’s mouth as she does.

Kara’s whole body is on fire as green eyes meet hers, still so close. Kara doesn’t even need to look down to where her arm is tingling, to know that Lena’s her soulmate. She’s pretty sure deep down she’s known since she first laid eyes on her.

With great effort she does look away from Lena, only because she wants to show Lena the words now written on her skin.

Kara pulls up her sleeve and there it is, in black ink, undeniable against her tan skin. There is Lena’s name, and Kara is crying again.

“That’s going to be tough to hide,” Lena says, and it’s meant to be a joke but it comes out too breathless to be anything but awe. Lena lifts her hand, runs her fingers gently over the name, and Kara’s knees go weak.

“Do you…” Kara asks, because now she wants to see it, needs to see her name on Lena’s skin too.

Lena turns, and she must have had the same feeling as Kara because she lifts up her shirt and there it is, low on Lena’s back, ‘Kara Zor-El’ written clear as day.

Kara reaches out, thumb ghosting over the spot her name is written.

“It is there?” Lena asks, voice filled with such hope that Kara places her hands on her arms, spins her gently until they’re facing each other again.

“Yes.” Kara lifts her hands, cups Lena’s cheek, thumbs catching more tears as they fall. They both know they’re happy tears. “I love you,” Kara repeats, because she can now. She’s going to say it so many times, Lena will get sick of it.

“I love you, too,” Lena repeats, her smile so bright Kara’s knees go weak again. And then Lena leans forward and kisses her again and Kara is lucky she manages to stay upright because Lena’s mouth feels so right and perfect against her own.

---

Two days later, in the CatCo gossip column, there’s a picture of the two of them kissing in Noonan’s, with the title:

Lena Luthor and Kara Danvers, National City’s Hottest New Couple?

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp #supercorp fanfic

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occamstfs · 14 hours

Text

Roommates’ Trivial Tiff

Pretty standard nerdy asshole to himbo TF, who doesn't love some cosmic justice ! -Occam

“You just don’t understand what it’s like dude. You have no idea how hard all this stuff is for me.” Brock was struggling to get through to his roommate, someone he has time and time again been more than cordial with. In response Harvey scoffs and rolls his eyes refusing to engage and instead doubling down, “I’m sure it’s real difficult with all your paid tutors and your-”

“You’re not even listening bro! You like to think you’re so elevated, like you have all the answers but you don’t even try to understand what anyone else is going through.” Harvey grimaces and briefly tosses about whether or not this is true but stubbornly neglects to internalize the criticism, “Uhh, I do too?” Brock bites his tongue to prevent just blowing up at his roommate and instead he tries a different angle, “Oh yeah? If that’s the case then, bet you know a lot about me huh? Since we’ve been roommates for a year now,” pausing as he narrows his eyes briefly at Harvey, “and ostensibly we’re friends right?”

Harvey struggles not to display his ever present irritation as he retorts, “Of course we are, uh, dude.” Brock does a better job hiding his intentions as he issues a challenge, “so if we were to say, quiz each other you think you’d come up on top lil dude?” With this gauntlet laid there is little recourse in Harvey’s mind but to accept it, there are few times he enjoys showing off so much as in a trivia contest. So what he might have a less than pristine record of respecting oafs like his roommate, he is certainly not to lose in any battle of the wits regardless of topic or stipulations there may be.

Brock puts out his hand and states the stakes, “You can of course bow out whenever, but uh, how about every question the winner takes something from the loser?” Harvey was resolved to win before hearing the terms and is now spitefully even more eager now as he eyes Brock’s side of the room looking for whatever his prize is sure to be.

Without any further clarification Brock promptly launches into the game, “I guess we’ll start real easy yeah? Only fair.” Harvey feels resentment start to brew as he feels he’s being talked down to as Brock goes on, “For starters then, What’s my major?” Harvey audibly gulps and feels his face blanche as he scrambles to find such an incredibly simple answer. This is such an obvious and pressing piece of information it would be impossible not to have it on deck.

Seeing the hesitation Brock laughs incredulously, “God dude are you kidding? How could you not know this, I-” He shifts his jaw waiting for the second shoe to drop as it is suddenly clear he is about to clean house, this asshole is going to learn respect by hook or by crook. Harvey’s eyes that were just hungrily looking through Brock’s possessions now retread their path, searching for the answer, his eyes linger on some sports bandages and protein powder and he kicks himself for forgetting. “Well duh dude, you’re doing a sports medicine or a trainer degree or whatever. Sorry that I forgot what the proper name is, it’s not exactly high in the list of things I need to know.”

Brock stares down at the clueless nerd before him and slowly shakes his head. “Not even close Harv. It’s-” Before he can finish though Harvey stands and shouts, “Don’t fucking call me that! I bet you don’t know mine either!” This leaves Brock aghast, he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, “Of course I fucking do! You never shut up about it! I’m lucky if my headphones can block out you whining about homework while also constantly talking yourself up! It’s so, fucking, annoying!”

Hurt by this despite his typical apathy to others Harvey starts up once more, “Okay but you didn’t say-” “Computer Engineering.” Harvey blushes in shame, not over his disrespect but of getting the question wrong. Suddenly there’s a hum in the room and the shadows in the corner grow darker and Brock looks around, “Well I suppose that question really tees me up on what to take huh? I’ll take your major.”

“Wha?” caught on the other foot Harvey blinks and sees that his textbooks and assignments are suddenly piled on Brock’s desk. He feels anxiety rise in his chest unsure of what has happened though confident this must be a prank or something. “No no no that can’t be right? What is happening?” He then returns to look at his roommate once more, a scowl plastered on his face as Brock who, despite his impressive stature always aims to present as kind and gentle, cannot help but smirk as he feels he has gotten one over on this jerk.

He stretches, exposing his midriff and flexing his arms behind his head, perhaps to try and allure or intimidate Harvey, he’s not sure, but Harvey is not going to just take this sitting down.Though at the present, he is too uncomfortable to even vocalize his discomfort as he stands there trying not to shake. Instead Brock begins once more, “Urgh kinda see what all that complaining was about now Harv, kinda got a lot on my plate now hah!”

Harvey stares daggers at his roommate, “Brock I don’t know what kind of nonsense is going through your dumbass ox brain. But it’s not funny, I’m sure you’re used to bullying little g-”

“Excuse me? I’m a bully!? I know you’re not saying that, I go out of my way to be kind, even to little chip on their shoulder assholes like you. I just,” Brock takes a deep breath and flexes his jaw before he continues. “It doesn’t matter actually. I trust you have a vested interest in trying again though right? Surely you want your major back?”

At the moment Harvey is caught between the idea that this is some kind of Christmas Carol-ass dream where he’s supposed to learn a lesson or once more that this is just a prank by Brock. Amenable as he’s always been, Harvey's convinced that behind this lunkhead is the vitriol of the typical jerk jock. In this impossible chance that this is reality though, he can’t just give up his major. He needs it to be an, uh? God what was, no what is his major anyway?

Harvey looks around in shock as he suddenly can’t bring his current course schedule to his mind, but he was literally in class this morning right? He feels his coursework draining from his mind as fear and rage begin to rise in his frail body. Images of lecture halls and professors flash through his mind before they just as swiftly dissipate, somewhere within him deeper than memory he feels that he was studying something with numbers. Mathematics, physics, engineering, something he was good at. He is determined to get that back as he speaks up finally, “What is the next question.”

Brock smiles and toys around in his head, confident that he will end up on top. “How about you pick this one, give you a fighting chance.” Harvey purses his lips and struggles to produce a question that he knows the answer to that his roommate will not. Oh duh, he’ll just ask him a math question, easy! Certainly not the aim of the game but Harvey just needed to get his life back. “What’s a derivative.”

“Kinda not in the spirit of the game dude but whatever. I took calc you know. It’s the rate of change in response to a variable. Now since you’re still being an ass how about I lob one back? How about you derivative 𝑓(𝑥)= 2cos⁡(𝑥)−6sec⁡(𝑥)+3?” Harvey is flat stunned, this is some entry level shit but he cannot for the life of him bring the information to mind. He’s just as sharp as he always has been but anything beyond rudimentary trig is continuing to trickle out of his mind. He meekly chuckles out, “uh easy, it’s f(x) equals, uh tan-”

There’s a blaring in his head as both men are aware of his immediate slip up. Energy once more rises in the air as Brock looks down almost pitifully at his roommate this time. “Now I am sorry for this Harvey but, oof that course load! Like you so relish to say, I am just not that bright hm?” Harvey shakes his head as he realizes the horror about to occur. Brock looks a little uncomfortable as he continues, “After failing to pull your little gotcha, I think I’ll just go ahead and have your intelligence.”

Both men are instantly struck with headaches the likes of which neither could endure under normal circumstances. As soon as the pain arrives though it is converted into a deep profane pleasure. Pins and needles fill Brock’s mind as it becomes heavy. Ideas and understanding fill his mind as a euphoric warmth flows through him. Harvey had enjoyed learning without truly lifting a finger, he had flourished and gained knowledge through no effort on his part but simple absorption. Brock is overcome with the ease at which he will now flow through life. Equally is he overcome by the ecstasy within his body as it only continues to heighten.

Opposite him Harvey clutches at his head as now not only do his learned experiences at university vanish, but all of his capabilities as a student and academic. Even the pleading within his mind slows down as he feels his ability to swiftly process information breaks down. Harvey turns from the man across from him as Brock’s hands feel up and down his musculature in rapturous delight, just in time to see whatever books and tomes he had collected as trophies begin to fade into the aether along with his memories of reading them. He looks down at his hands in confusion and horror, even with his unaddled mind at full steam he could not make sense of what has befallen him. He knows this is not right.

He is unable to find any answers, though as he searches his brain he begins to find a pleasant warmth in the vacuum where there once was knowledge. While his mind has been emptied, the bulge in his crotch demands his attention, which shall likely be a constant issue now that his mind shall evermore be less than preoccupied. He feels his mouth start to fill with drool as he looks down at his cock as it almost feels larger than it should be. He almost laughs at the idea that from now on he may fully be thinking with his cock. He opens his mouth allowing drool to spill out which shocks him back to sense and he turns around to demand that Brock return this all to sense immediately.

Brock for his part is reclined in a chair just rubbing his cock over his shorts almost forgetting about what they had been doing not seconds earlier. He laughs as he sees the expression on Harvey’s face, “Woah dude sorry about that, got lost in my own mind for a second there! No wonder you had, or have rather, such an attitude problem. It all just came so easy to you didn’t it? I mean we could keep going if you want, what else do you have to lose yeah?” Harvey wipes the drool from his face and takes stock, he can still read, he is pretty confident he still passed high school, he remembers his life before whatever hell is currently happening as well as whatever this new reality is. He nods his head and pushes his erection down as it continues to rise upon seeing his roommate’s cocky repose. He answers, “let’s keep going. Your question right?”

Harvey can’t help but trace Brock’s traps as he shrugs, “If you insist lil bro. What’s my middle name?” He knows this one for sure, he would bring it out to tease his roommate as needed. Brock slams his arm down in excitement and shouts, “fucking Laurel!” then he recalls this is only half the battle, Brock must also get his wrong, “what’s mine?” Brock smirks once more and laughs as he stretches to scratch his back, his roommate hungrily staring, “you don’t have one dude”

The energy rushing between the two men is drastically different this time. Unlike the pleasurable prickles of knowledge or the soothing burn of loss there is a direct, deeper connection between the two. Brock’s grin grows wider as understands, “Oh I getcha, question’s a tie so we share the spoils Harv. Only fair that since you’ve the mind of a what, meathead? May as well have the body of one.”

Harvey watches as his roommate takes off his shirt, he feels a warmth in his chest as he stares directly at Brock’s pecs. His breath catches as he watches his roommate flex them and he feels a nervous energy begin to surge within his own. He’s never had pecs before but he feels his chest pushing, growing, into his shirt. He sees his nipples harden and grow too large to ever hide as his chest expands. His swallows to stop from drooling once more as he sees Brock pose and flex his massive biceps, forcing a burning delight down the whole of Harvey’s arms. He matches the pose of the powerful man he has spoken nothing but ill of and flexes, sweat immediately staining through his shirt as the energy and strain heats his body beyond reason.

At the same time both men drop into a crunch, there is a loud tear as the pants of both men tear as they reach the lowest point in the crunch as Harvey’s ass bursts larger and his thighs swell with strength well enough to carry his increasingly top heavy torso. Not only is Harvey to gain the muscle of a tight jock, but the masculinity expected. The cock he has been til now proud enough of pulses with his heartbeat, with each pump it gorges larger, veins thick as the ones surging down his biceps force his cock thicker and further down his strained shorts. He tears at his pants to free his bulge as his balls bloat to the size of eggs, they pull tight ass they’re exposed to the air and all the soreness, strain, and pain of his still growing body becomes agonizing delight.

Harvey’s eyes water as he struggles to even stay cogent with the pleasure and power coursing through him. He smells his new musk breaking through his senses. Through the burning bedlam across his body he feels a soothing burn as hair begins to sprout and thicken where every man should make clear his masculinity. His pubes thicken and curl beyond his waistline and his pits grow wild and begin to spread to make it clear they, nor his musk, can ever be contained.

He lies, sits, writhes, flexes, exists in nothing but pleasure for some time, no longer concerned for his lost intelligence, beyond the care of his education. His hands, larger and painted with still thickening hair, press tight against his body as he feels the new contours of his body. Each new valley and mountain is a testament to the ecstasy he shall now prioritize above all. Until his roommate’s voice breaks through the haze, “Fuck bro you’re really feeling yourself huh?” Harvey’s eyes open to see Brock’s arrogant sneer has only grown worse as he has contendly watch Harvey lavish his new corpus.

Harvey meets it with a scowl and Brock tilts his head, “Want to do one last question then, bro?” His smile grows tight as he tries not to laugh as the appellation of bro has become the paramount definition of this once genius. Harvey just nods his head, still understandably disoriented as he lies in a pool of his own sweat and pre that remains dripping directly onto the floor. Brock motions for him to ask whatever the presumably final question is but is met with a grunt and a wave of the hand. Brock grimaces slightly, “if you insist bud,” he grimaces slightly as he looks down at the man. Asshole he may have be, may still be even, surely there’s something Brock could do to fix even that. He leans to whisper the question in Harvey’s ear, “what color are my eyes.”

Between grunts, Harvey strains to look at his roommate only to find them obviously closed. His body contorts with pain and pleasure as he feels the throes of defeat and one final lose begin to seize him. He groans out through clenched teeth as his jaw widens and his brows thicken as changes already begin to work upon his mind, “don’t… know…” Brock nods and sits next to his roommate laying Harvey’s head on his lap. At the point it would be a kindness for the man to forget his life before, and that is exactly what he is to do.

Brock removes the memories and identity of the sour nerd that made life perpetually unpleasant not only for him, but anyone unlucky enough to grace his presence. His breathing speeds up as his body heat rises beyond imagination, sweat turning to steam in the cold dorm room as he shakes his head and clenches his fists. He writhes only briefly, each flex of his body a final protestation of Harvey as Brock erases even his name from his head.

After a minute of this his body goes still before he opens his eyes blearily and groans. Still lying in Brock’s lap he stretches his arms, turning to smell his impossibly rank pits before turning it into a flex as he must do anytime he raises them. Brock watches this with trepidation, unsure of who exactly his roommate is to be now before suddenly a name surges into his mind, Bull. Perfect fodder for the jerk he once was and an apt name for the behemoth lying on his lap. Testing the waters Brock pats his chest to wake him up, “Morning Bull.”

He yawns and scratches at the same stubbled face he has always known and he sits up, “urgh got a massive headache bro, must have gone pretty hard to have a hangover this bad huhuh! Wanna go grab brekkie and hit up the gym?” Brock stifles a smirk and helps his roommate up to standing, slightly surprised to see him standing taller than himself before responding, “You got it big guy, how about you get some clothes on first though right?” Bull guffaws, looking down at his hairy sweat-drenched body as he throws an arm around his roommate, cock bobbing around in the open air, still chubbed up. “What would I do without you bro huhuh!”

Brock looks to see all of Bull’s tops have changed to stringers and tanks. Where Harvey had nothing but pants Bull has piles of unwashed athletic shorts, one of which he promptly throws on, going commando. Seeing Brock watch him, Bull grabs at his crotch and juts at the door, “Come on bro! Faster we get a pump in faster we can get back here and have some fun dude.”

With that Bull again throws his arm around Brock, once more smelling his b.o. as he almost deliberately spreads it on his roommate’s neck, like an animal marking its territory. The two then off to start their day, in Bull’s mind as they always have. Brock feels his crotch grow weightier as the amble down the hall, unsure if he’s made a horrible mistake in all this. Who is he to say what is too far in acts of cosmic retribution. Brock is certain at the end of the day he and Bull are at least to have quite a bit of fun.

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #jockification #himbofication #hair growth #nerd to jock #muscle tf

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pb524830 · 3 days

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right where you left me

part: 8 pairing: paige bueckers x oc word count: 1.5k c/w: language a/n: sighhhhh i'm not so happy with the way this ended, but i had so much fun writing this series. honestly, though, i'm very excited to start on some new stuff, so please please please stay tuned for that. let me know if you guys have requests, i'm feeling uninspired. thank you all so so much for staying tuned for this series, and while i'm sad it's over, you may be seeing more of paige and maya later on! let me know what you think!

When I wake up the next morning, I try for a moment to fool myself that this is my normal. That I always wake up wrapped in Paige, her hair tickling my nose. That I get to press a soft kiss into the skin of her neck and watch her eyes flutter open every single morning.

But in reality, we've fucked up. Paige’s eyes bore into mine. “We shouldn’t have done that,” she sighs. It’s not a question. It’s the truth. I search her eyes, trying to find some semblance of calm in the baby blue. This morning doesn’t forecast clear skies, as it would seem. Instead, I’m met with a raging storm.

“Do you wish we hadn’t?” I ask. My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. She hesitates. “I should,” she tells me. “But I don’t.” I shut my eyes, exhaling through my nose. She keeps talking. “I got to touch you.”

“I got to kiss you. Got to hold you, get to wake up to you.”

I nod, pursing my lips. “I know.”

“Maya, baby.”

I let myself look at her, opening my eyes to let them rove over her lips and her nose.

“I need to tell you something,” Paige says quietly.

She sits up, clad in one of her own t-shirts she’d grabbed from my closet. My eyes follow her movements, waiting with bated breath to see if she’ll leave.

“It wasn’t you. It was me.”

I sit up cautiously, narrowing my eyes at her. “Are you… re-breaking up with me, right now, Paige?”

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head indignantly. “No! No, no, no! Just-just listen, okay?”

I nod, encouraging her to go on.

“I was insecure. I was so worried that everyone else would see what I see in you - how beautiful you are, how smart you are, and kind, and funny, and talented, and-and sexy. How could they not? I mean, you’re all that and-and more.”

“But I should have trusted you, too. It was unfair of me to throw the situation with Nicky back in your face. I’m the one who kissed you. I called you and you came, because you always do, because that’s how good you are. Because you love me. You’ve never done wrong by me, Maya. Ever. Even if I missed a comp, you were always there at my games. Even when I fucked up, you showed up for me, Mai.”

“And I’ve known. That it’s you. Maybe as long as we’ve known each other, I couldn’t tell you. But I don’t want anyone to touch me the way you do. I can’t imagine looking at someone else and-and feeling the things I feel when I look at you, Mai. I can’t even put them into words. I just know that this feeling that I have - right now - waking up to you and knowing that I’m yours and you’re mine… shit, Maya. I want this feeling for fucking life.”

My eyes sting with tears. “Paige,” I whisper.

“And I know you want time. And space. Or whatever the fuck. But I’m telling you I don’t need any of that shit. I just need you. Us. However much you’re willing to give. I’ll take it. Some of you, all of you. I don’t give a fuck. I’ll wait. However long it takes.” She rushes all of this out, her tone taking on a sense of urgency.

I’m silent, still processing her words.

“My bus to the airport leaves in an hour. If I’m not there, Coach will skin me alive,” she tells me, getting off the bed. “I know… you have doubts. I get it. But I’m telling you right now, you’re fucking it for me, Maya. And if you need a day, weeks, months, years to get to that place - I’ll still wait for you.”

Paige walks briskly to me, taking my face in her hands. I feel as though I’m in a state of shock. “My bus leaves from the Hilton. If you come, I’ll know you want to keep trying.” She kisses me chastely. “Please come,” she whispers.

Then she’s gone. I glance at the clock on my phone. It reads 9:30.

I let about fifteen minutes pass.

Then another fifteen. I pick at my blankets, my fingers twitching.

Twenty minutes go by.

Then thirty more.

I check my phone again. Nothing from Paige. The time reads 10:52.

I hesitate.

Then I grab my car keys off my nightstand.

*******

Paige’s POV

“She didn’t come?” KK asks softly. I stare out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her dark hair. “Nah, guess not.” I try to play it off, acting like it doesn’t bother me, but my heart feels like someone stabbed it and twisted the knife. I pull my jacket tighter around me, as though it might hide the bloodstains.

The ride to the airport is slow and painful. I wallow in the words I said to her before I left.

The truth is, I don’t want to be without her. I can’t. I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen years old. I’m 23 now, and the sun still rises and sets on that fucking smile.

I trudge through the airport, drag myself through security, and plop down at a seat at our gate. Azzi tries to poke me, trying to tease me to cheer me up. It doesn’t work. I shoot her a glare, then turn to the other side, determined to ignore the rest of my team.

That’s when I see her.

Maya.

She’s wearing what she wore to bed last night, a hoodie thrown over her t-shirt and shorts. She looks frantic, just about running through the airport. She clutches her keys in one hand, wallet in the other.

I shoot to my feet.

“Maya,” I breathe. KK gives me a weird look. “Yo, I know you’re down bad and all, but you have to chill.”

I swat her, my eyes still trained on the dark haired girl running through the Detroit airport. “No, dude. Maya. She’s here.”

KK’s eyes go wide when they spot her. “Girl, what are you standing here for? Go get her!”

“Right,” I mumble, nearly tripping trying to get past the bundle of duffels we all have on the floor in front of us.

“Maya!” I call, praying she hears me. “Maya!”

She spins to find my voice, her hair swishing around her. I see her lips form my name, and then she’s sprinting towards me, launching herself at me. Without hesitation, I gather her in my arms, squeezing her to me, letting her wrap her legs around my waist. “Paige,” she whispers into my hair, placing a kiss at my temple. “What are you doing here?” I wonder aloud. “I-I bought a ticket to Miami,” she splutters out, tears filling her eyes. “They wouldn’t let me in otherwise, but I had to see you-”

“You came,” I breathe, locking my arms around her body.

She stops, pulling back to look at me, a ‘duh’ look on her face. “You called,” she replies.

I bury my face into her, breathing in her smell. “Don’t do that again, okay?” I beg.

She laughs tearfully, nodding and clutching me to her. It occurs to me momentarily that this is an awfully public display of affection to be having in an airport, but I don’t give a shit.

“Never again,” she agrees, slowly unhooking her legs from around me.

“God, you scared me,” I tell her, but I’m too busy drinking her in to actually be mad.

“I just thought about what you said. We’re so over everything that happened in high school. I’m not scared you’ll hurt me again. I trust you too much for that. And I don’t need days or weeks or however fucking long, Paige. It’s been four years. I’m done waiting. I want this. Now,” she tells me earnestly.

I nod eagerly, unable to believe my ears. “We’ll- we’ll make it work. I’ll call you every day, every hour if you want. Whatever you want. You can visit! I’ll pay for your flights. I got NIL bank now, I’ll pay for whatever. I just-”

I know I’m babbling, but I’m just so unbelievably happy, I think I might be high off of it. I interrupt myself to kiss her, pulling her to me, not caring who sees. She laughs against me, kissing me back, and I think at this moment that if I could bottle her laugh up, I could get drunk off of it.

I lift her up off her feet once more, grinning at her.

“I hope you know I’m never letting you get away from me again,” I tell her.

Maya smiles at me, pecking my nose. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” she retorts.

I grin at her, stupidly in love with every single part of her. “You and me, baby?”

The smile she flashes at me is blinding, and she’s so beautiful I think I might pass out.

“You and me.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #fic #wcbb #uconn wbb #✂️ anon #ncaaw #paige bueckers x oc #fic talk #right where you left me

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peachhcs · 3 days

Text

going to worlds

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

with worlds coming up, tensions get high in the hughes’ household between luke and samy.

2k words

so this is actually more samy x luke more than samy x will but here’s the sibling angst i mentioned a few days ago! i feel like we don’t see a lot of samy’s relationship with her brothers so i wanna try and write that more but i will be writing more about worlds between will and samy as it plays out! :))

au masterlist

“no, absolutely not,” luke immediately shook his head as he walked out of the kitchen. samy was hot on his tail as she followed him into the living room, watching as he plopped himself onto the couch, remote in hand.

“why not? it’s not like i’m gonna be bothering you,” the younger hughes argued, hanging herself over the couch so she was right in her brother’s face.

the boy pushed her away, “but it will be a bother when i have to look after you the entire month there. i’m not doing that shit. i’m not gonna be some babysitter at my own hockey tournament,” luke was being harsh which samy sort of expected, but not this bad.

“i’m 19 years old. you don’t need to look after me,” the girl fired back.

“that’s not what mom and dad will say. plus, i kind of do because we’re in a fucking foreign country and i’m not that stupid to let you wander around czechia by yourself,” luke shot back even harder. a frustrated groan escaped samy’s lips. this brother was supposed to be easier than her other two.

“i won’t be by myself. plus, i went to sweden and mom and dad were fine,” samy mumbled sheepishly.

“what do you think you’re gonna do when we’re at practice almost the whole day? sit in the hotel? that’s gonna get boring real quick,” the curly-brunette shook his head, already very over the conversation and disregarding what his sister said.

“you’re being such a brat. i’m not 12 years old anymore, luke. i can take care of myself, you know. you’re not even 21 yet so right now it’s a one year age difference.”

“why do you even wanna go? don’t you have your own shit to do instead of follow me to czechia,” the middle hughes rolled his eyes. although, his words hit a nerve.

samy drew back off the couch, a frown settling onto her lips. sure, her and luke had their fair share of fights and arguments, but for some reason, his words hurt even more than any of those combined.

“jesus, when did you turn into such an asshole?” now her words hit luke’s nerve this time. the older boy whipped around so hard samy swore he gave himself whiplash. his lips were set in a straight line along with his eyebrows pinched together.

“who are you calling an asshole right now? you’re the one who needs to grow up right now,” the boy shot back quite harshly.

“so me going to every single one of your ntdp games, home games at umich mean nothing to you? you just think i’m following you around?” the girl frowned, her hurt showing more than she anticipated as her voice wavered.

“i- i..that’s not what i meant, sam. i just..it’s gonna be a bother and you just wanna go to make out with your boyfriend anyway,” luke defended himself, but his words didn’t sound any better than before.

those words hurt samy a lot more than a few minutes ago. luke never called her sam ever. the siblings stared at one another, the silence engulfing them while luke awaited a response. “so that’s what you think? you’ve just forgotten that will’s still my best friend and i’ve been supporting him since we were kids along with you? you just think i wanna go to be some bother to you and have sex with my boyfriend?” samy’s voice finally rose to the point where they both knew she was angry.

“i mean..am i wrong?” the wrong responses kept falling from the middle hughes’ mouth.

“yes! you are wrong, luke! haven’t you and will always wanted to play on the same team together since we were kids but never could because you weren’t ever in the same age group? and now that it’s finally happening, i can’t go and support my brother and best friend who are playing for the same team because all you think is that i’m going to have sex with him all the time and be some fucking bother. i only asked you because i knew mom and dad would only let me go if you said yes and i thought you would because you’d want your sister there cheering you on like i have been for your entire life. maybe this whole fame thing really did get to your head,” samy stormed off before luke could even respond. her heavy footsteps carried all the way up the stairs until the boy heard her bedroom door slam shut.

“woah, someone’s mad..” jack came out from the downstairs bedroom. his hair looked absolutely insane like he’d just woken up despite it being 2 in the afternoon.

“i don’t know what’s up with her,” luke rolled his eyes, settling back into the couch like nothing happened.

“she’s got a point, you know. you were kind of being an asshole,” jack shrugged as he wandered into the kitchen.

“oh come on, not you too. if she goes, i’m just gonna have to look after her!” luke exclaimed, head falling back onto the couch in frustration.

“she’s not some kid anymore, moosey. she’s 19. you’re not even 21. she can handle herself. she did in sweden,” jack stuck up for their little sister.

“that was different because everyone was there already. this isn’t the sam, jack. mom and dad will put me on babysitter duty because they aren’t there,” the younger brother continued his defense.

“i don’t think it would be babysitting. more like making sure she’s okay. checking in? plus, i doubt she’ll even be in the hotel room that much anyway. she’ll wanna hang with smitty and leno,” jack started making himself a sandwich with the little ingredients in the fridge. apparently, ellen and jim hardly grocery shopped when they didn’t have four kids in one house anymore.

“yeah and then that will lead to them having sex and then that becomes a whole thing,” luke rambled on.

“is this really about not wanting samy there or is it about you thinking she’s taking away your moment if she’s there?” the older hughes brother proposed a new idea. he always saw through to his siblings hidden emotions they were trying to conceal. a beat of silence passed between the brothers and jack took the silence as his answer. he stopped making his sandwich for a moment to find a seat on the couch beside his brother. luke’s gaze stuck to the ground.

“come on, rusty. talk to me,” jack nudged his brother’s knee.

“it just feels like i never get to hang out with will because samy’s always there. or..he chooses her instead of hanging with us nowadays. being able to play on team usa together has been our dream since we were kids. i love that samy’s happy and so is will..i just..i really hoped this could be a just us thing. i don’t know. sounds selfish, i know,” the younger boy mumbled almost ashamed.

“it’s not selfish, lukey. i get it. i’m still getting used to their whole dating thing too here and there. it is weird seeing one of your close friends date your sister,” jack sympathized. “i’m sure if you talked to samy she’ll understand. she’s always been your #1 supporter, luke. i know she’s not trying to come with you to wedge her way in between you guys. maybe set some boundaries?”

“maybe i just feel so disconnected because i went to college and then was hardly ever around. feels like i don’t even know her sometimes anymore or will, you know? he used to be attached to our hips as kids and now..it’s just..not the same,” the curly-haired boy’s voiced faded off. a frown appeared on jack’s lips, rubbing his brother’s arm in a soothing manner.

“talk to her, lukey. this can be your chance to reconnect with both of them the month you’re there,” the older boy encouraged.

luke finally took to his words, agreeing as he got up and shuffled upstairs to hopefully reconcile. samy’s room sounded quiet the closer he got, so he gently knocked on the door.

“go away,” he heard lowly.

“please? just wanna talk,” luke mumbled from outside.

a beat of silence passed until there was a small click and his sister’s gaze appeared through the crack, “about what?”

“me being an asshole,” the older boy admitted in defeat that she was right earlier. the door opened wider, an indication that he could go in.

luke’s gaze flicked around the room that he really hadn’t seen in..years almost. it was so similar, yet it felt so different in his eyes. so much time seemed to pass in samy’s room.

“you have five minutes to give me a good explanation,” the girl crossed her arms, snapping her brother back into reality.

the guilt crept across luke’s face as he struggled on where to start. he was never the one to admit his feeling outright like this. “first, i’m sorry. i was an asshole about the whole thing,” he began.

“yeah, you kind of were. that really hurt, luke,” samy said seriously and the boy sighed.

“i know..i don’t know why—i think i just…” he stumbled over his words and everything he just admitted to jack downstairs. “feels like i don’t really know you anymore just because i’ve been away and i hate that. we used to be so close and now it feels like we just don’t talk..same with will. i dunno. i guess i just didn’t want you there because i was being selfish and just wanted will and i there together. i realize now that you deserve to be there too to support us,” the boy continued in a long ramble that probably made no sense.

he watched samy’s expression soften up a little, “you think we aren’t close anymore?”

“i mean..not as close as we used to be. college and everything else seems to have made us drift..same with jack. same with quinn.”

yes, the hughes siblings were close, but not nearly as close when they all lived under one roof. one by one as each brother left, their bond slowly dissipated. texts became littler and littler. the time changes weren’t easy to work around sometimes.

in some ways, samy saw where luke came from because quinn and jack missed a lot of big milestones in samy’s life yet she was there for all of theirs.

“i-i’m sorry. i didn’t know you felt that way,” the girl frowned.

“no, no, it’s not your fault. i just..have been feeling weird lately. i think having you there will be really fun. maybe it can even make up for some of the time we’ve lost,” luke offered a smile.

“no, i don’t have to go. you’re right. it’s a you and will thing. something you’ve been waiting for since you were kids,” the girl shook her head.

“no, no, i want you there. i promise. plus, i think smitty would actually fight me if he knew i wasn’t letting you come. i’m serious. we can catch up. have fun in czechia together. i’m sure mom and dad would love our sibling bonding,” the two shared a laugh.

“are you sure?”

“positive. i’ve missed hanging around you,” luke opened his arms for a hug. the youngest hughes stepped into his arms and they shared a tight hug in what felt like forever.

“we’re gonna have so much fun there. i already have an intinerary planned for your off days,” the girl grinned widely when the two pulled away.

a laugh escaped luke’s lips, “of course you do. we’ll talk to mom and dad tonight, yeah?”

samy nodded and she let her brother squeeze her shoulders one last time before leaving her alone for now. she excitedly called will next to let him know the good news that they’d be able to spend the next few weeks together.

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jimcornflake · 2 days

Text

Slashers X Bimbo!Reader HC

A/N: Many ideas. Brain PULSATING with creativity.

🎀🎀🎀

Michael Myers:

- Your constant idiocy never ceases to amaze Michael. When he came to kill you, you showed him in to your kitchen and showed him where the sink was and told him it was leaking, then complimented him on his “plumbing spidey-senses.”

- Needless to say, he did not kill you. It would be the same as killing a kitten with no legs: pointless and unchallenging.

- Once you found out who he was, you were scared of him at first, trembling in every limb as you asked him if he was going to kill you. He shook his head no and you smiled at him brightly and cheered.

- He loves you for your sugary sweet personality. He may look cold and unaffected but inside he enjoys how you dote on him despite his lack of ability to reciprocate.

- Bodyguard. When he’s not planning his next murder, he’s your personal bodyguard. He shadows you when you go out with friends or at night.

- He’s stiff and rigid and awkward, but he loves your cuddles. He is unable to relax in to it fully, he’ll never be able to relax fully in to anything, but he melts as much as he can in to your arms.

Thomas Hewitt:

- Immediate love at first sight. Thomas hasn’t ever seen a girl like you before. You’re clean and pretty and you’ve definitely never gotten your hands dirty a day in your life. That last part would have to change, but he hoped you would ease in to it.

- You’re kept in the Sawyer house for an obvious ulterior motive that you are purely oblivious to: to be Thomas’ wife. It was Luda’s idea, but every time he brings it up she pretends to be clueless.

- However, you do end up falling in love with Tommy, as planned. How could you not? He’s gentle and sweet and so considerate. He tries his best to keep you away from the violence of the house, but you do encounter some here and there.

- You’re his comfort person. He’s shy with it at first, denying that anything is wrong with him, but you can see right through it. He opens up to you about his face and how he feels about it, and you stop his thoughts in their tracks by giving him a gentle kiss right on his (not) nose.

Bubba Sawyer:

- If there’s anybody that loves a pretty girl, it’s Bubba! He was absolutely captivated by you and when your group first came around, he intentionally left you for last. When Drayton demand he butcher you, Bubba wrapped his arms around you and screeched and blubbered and cried until his brother relented.

- He makes you clothes! It’s mostly patchwork, due to no access to fresh fabrics, but he definitely knows how to make-do with what he’s given. He likes it when you prance around and show it off, clapping like you’re a supermodel.

- Make-up. Oh, make-up. You and Bubba have a ball together taking make-up from victims and giving each-other makeovers. You found a Polaroid on one of the victims that passed through and now it’s tradition to take a picture together after every makeover.

- There is a lot of cuddling going on between the two of you. You love cuddles, he loves cuddles, and you nuzzle in to one another constantly. If you do it in front of Drayton, he’ll gag and pretend to vomit or shoot himself in the head to make his point.

Bo Sinclair:

- At first it’s all about appearance. All Bo sees is how gorgeous you are and how good you look in everything, everywhere, all the time. But because you aren’t exactly capable of taking advantage of him or his emotions, he starts to slowly open up to you. Especially when he sees how you treat his brothers like normal people.

- You know his favorite routine after a long day of chasing people around his sham-town. Get him a beer, sit on his lap, and kiss on his face. The only exception is when you’re baking him something or waiting for him upstairs naked.

- You test his patience. He knows he’s got a temper-problem but he tries his very best with you. All you want to do is help him, after all, and he knows that. Sometimes, he does have to tell you to walk away from him with a flat expression after you’ve asked the dumbest question he’s ever heard in his life.

- Contemplates giving you his Mama’s ring everyday. You’re the only one who understands his complex relationship with her and how it affects him deeply. He doesn’t like discussing it in depth, but every now and then when you find him in the church in front of her casket, he’ll tell you a thing or two. Just because he loves you.

Asa Emory:

- You’re pliant, obedient, and dumb as all fuck. Yes, it’s very easy for Asa to love you. He never has to discipline you because when you do disobey, it’s on accident. A simple correction and you’re on your way.

- You’re very enthusiastic about his bugs, wanting to know all about them even though you can’t understand a single word this man is saying to you. You like to hold them, even though the way they crawl up your arm makes you giggle nervously.

- The dogs love you. You baby them and kiss them behind his back (he definitely knows) and mourn the loss of them deeply.

- His neighbors love you, too! You bake them things and talk to them and are very friendly, much to Asa’s chagrin. Especially since he knows that it’s mostly gross older men trying to lure you in to their home to take advantage of you. He’s very protective and won’t let you deliver your goods without him.

🎀🎀🎀

Hi! Did you like this? If so, please check out my other works! Thank you and have a beautiful day! 🩷

#slasher x reader #asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collector x reader #leatherface x reader #Thomas Hewitt #Thomas Hewitt x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #bo Sinclair x reader #Michael myers x reader

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 days

Note

Hi! I would like to request, #33 "Why have you been ignoring me?" and #20 "Marry me." Like maybe Eddie is so nervous about proposing, he's been avoiding the reader until she goes to his trailer to talk to him.

I love your writing so so so much 💜💜

Hello, lovely! I always see you liking my posts and I just wanted to say thank you so much for all of the support!

Eddie x fem!reader

cw: hurt/ comfort

Prompts used: 20. “Marry Me.” and 33. “Why have you been ignoring me?”

You and Eddie had been together for three years and from the beginning, everyone thought that you were going to get married. It was clear that you had been in love with each other for a long time and it was only a matter of time that you got together.

Little did you know that Eddie had bought a ring not long after you started dating because he just knew that you were the one. He had kept the thing in his desk drawer and was grateful you didn’t like the snoop or else he would have been fucked.

Eddie was usually very clingy, but lately, though, you had noticed that he had become more distant. He had been ignoring your calls and it had gotten to the point where you hadn’t seen him in over a week, which was weird since the two of you were attached at the hip, seeing each other every single day without fail. With that, you had no choice but to believe that he was going to break up with you. What else could you believe when he hadn’t even wanted to talk to you?

Because you didn’t want to give up on what the two of you had, you decided to go over to his trailer and find out for yourself. You had to know what was going on. That wasn’t like him and it was killing you not knowing what was happening.

You burst through the door that was always unlocked and made a beeline for his room. You stood in the door way and Eddie was quick to turn around from his desk, his face lighting up when he saw you, but quickly deflated when he saw that you had been crying.

“If you’re breaking up with me just say that,” you said, trying to hold back your tears but they just kept coming.

Eddie was quick to get out of his chair and head towards you to pull you into his arms. After that, the tears kept flowing while he let you cry, letting you get it out before you told him what was wrong.

You just couldn’t stand losing him. You couldn’t let him let you go. You were going to hold on tight as long as you could. You couldn’t let the best thing that ever happened to you slip through your fingers.

“Honey, what is going on?” He pulled back to look at you, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’m not breaking up with you. Why would you think that?”

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

“I-” he cut himself off, trying his best to explain what had been going on without ruining the whole thing. He didn’t have anything elaborate planned, but he still wanted to do it on his own terms. But he supposed that there was no time like the present.

Eddie pulled away from you and headed over to his desk. He slowly opened the drawer where he had kept the ring and pulled out the blue velvet box before turning towards you.

You noticed that he had something hidden behind his back and that his eyes were starting to tear up. He slowly got down on one knee and you let out a gasp as you realized what he was doing and covered you mouth with your hands as you did so. Eddie then pulled the box out from behind his back and opened it, the beautiful ring practically shining.

“Y/n, I’ve known you for quite some time and I have to say that I’ve never been happier. We’ve been together for three years now and I can confidently say that they’ve been the best three years of my life.” He was now getting choked up and it made your eyes water seeing that thinking about marrying you made him so emotional.

You couldn’t believe it. He had been proposing and now you felt so awful for thinking that he was going to break up with you. It had actually been the opposite and he had wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

“Marry me.” He said the words through tears and you couldn’t help but nod furiously. You urged him to stand up and he put the ring on your finger before you pulled him into a lingering kiss.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” you nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you pressed your lips to his again. He slowly backed up to the bed and collapsed onto it, the two of you deciding to start your engagement off sleeping together, wanting to seal it by getting tangled up in Eddie’s sheets.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader

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blairrwaldorfs · 1 day

Text

Yes Forever

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe has been giving hints and it's making your heart explode every time.

Author's Note: The bridge of TTPD is to blame for this. Enjoy! :)

Wordcount: 1.9K

You knew you should have seen it coming.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t making it obvious these last few weeks. It wasn’t like his little actions were something he has been hiding. You should have seen it coming, but you didn’t want to expect anything. You didn’t want to hope just in case you were wrong, you know? You didn’t want to feel disappointed if it was just your mind making things up.

It started off at the night of his movie premiere. You were all dressed up, and Joe couldn’t get his eyes off of you. Though, that wasn’t the thing that stuck out the whole night because Joe always looked at you like that no matter what. He was always telling you how stunning you were and that he was so lucky. The movie premiere went smoothly. You joined him at the red carpet and everyone was so proud about the movie and then, the after party came. You didn’t know if it was Joe having way too many drinks, or your mind was just being delusional.

You sat next to him in the booth. Joe and his co-stars were laughing talking about a memory from the set, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander somewhere else. It wasn’t like you were bored with their conversations or anything. You were actually enjoying yourself, but it was Joe’s soft touch on your hand under the table that was distracting you so much.

“You know you should watch out for Joe.” One of his co-stars told you. “I would run off if I still had the chance.” He teased.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as Joe wrapped an arm around you. His hand softly caressing your arm and his other hand… well…

It was doing something that was making your heart race.

Your hand was set on his lap and his index finger was grazing over your bare ring finger. You couldn’t help but purse your lips as you tried to keep your attention on the conversation in front of you. Joe kept that going for the rest of the night, and he didn’t say one word about it when you got home. So, you let the subject go.

Then, you noticed one night when you were slowly falling asleep on the bed that Joe was just smiling and staring at you. His fingers caressing your soft cheek, while you were fighting hard to keep your eyes open.

“Hmm…” You smiled, letting out a soft hum.

“So beautiful.” Joe whispered, kissing your hair. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Joe.” You smiled, moving closer to him.

You rested your head on his chest, your fingers finding his as you played with them. Joe then intertwined his fingers with yours and brought your hand on his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

“You have no idea how much you occupy my heart.” Joe said. “It’s all yours, darling. All of it.”

“I love you so much.” You smiled, pressing your face on his neck.

Joe held you tighter in his arms as comfortable silence blanketed the room for a moment. You two never really talked about the subject of it, but you knew there was that mutual understanding between the two of you. You just knew. You both really didn’t have to talk about it because what was there to talk about, right? You both already knew where this was heading.

“You know, there was no other woman I felt this way about.” Joe murmured. “When I first saw you, I knew in my heart that it was you. You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

You hitched a breath as Joe grazed his fingers over your bare ring finger again. You kept your eyes close, face still pressed on his neck. You didn’t know if you could look into his eyes right now. With the words he was speaking, your heart was beating hard out of your chest that you swore he could hear and feel it.

“Darling?” Joe moved back a little, gazing down at you.

You kept your eyes shut and stayed still. Joe’s fingers grazed over your cheek again, his lips tugging into a small smile.

“You’re the love of my life, you know that?” Joe whispered as you fluttered your eyes open.

You smiled at Joe, glancing up at him and said, “What’s going on, Joe?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve noticed it lately…” You tilted your head at him.

Joe raised his brow, pretending like he didn’t know what you were talking about.

“Notice what?”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Nevermind.”

Joe reeled you back in his arms, kissing your hair softly. “I just want you to know how much I love you.”

You nodded your head, smiling softly as you set your head back on his chest. You didn’t want to say it first if he couldn’t admit it because you didn’t want to look stupid. Maybe you really were being delusional in the first place. Maybe Joe really was just being sweet and wanted to reassure you of his love.

That was all.

You finally let that subject go for a few weeks. It didn’t appear in your thoughts again until that one night when Joe had taken you out for a date night. He had suggested taking you into a nice restaurant since it had been a while since you both had gone out on a date. So, you agreed. You dressed up in a nice pale blue silky dress, and Joe was in a nice button up and trousers. You couldn’t help but run your fingers through his curls the moment you saw him waiting for you by the front door.

Joe hummed approvingly as he set his hands on your hips, pressing your body against his.

“God, I can never get over how stunning you are.” Joe whispered, kissing down your neck.

“And I can never get over how handsome you are.” You smiled, feeling his hands gently run down your sides.

Joe gazed down at you, his eyes sparkling before leaning down to kiss you passionately. Leading you out the door, Joe had taken you to the restaurant that he chose, and it was nice and cozy. You couldn’t help but enjoy this moment with him. It really had been a while since you two had spent time together, especially with both of your busy schedules.

“I’ve missed this.” You smiled, taking a sip of your wine.

“Me too.” Joe took your hands in his from across the table. “Sorry if I have been so busy, darling.”

“Joe,” You tilted your head at him. “I understand. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I know, but still…” Joe took a deep breath, playing with your fingers. “I want to apologize and want you to know that I love you.”

Squeezing his hand lightly, you gave Joe a warm reassuring smile. “Joe, I know. I love you too.”

Joe smiled slightly, looking down at your fingers. He played with the ring that you had on your middle finger for a moment before slipping it off. You watched as he slid it over to your ring finger and for a moment, you felt your lungs stopped working. You felt your heart almost exploding as Joe smiled slightly before slipping the ring back on your middle finger again.

“Joe–” You whispered.

“Good evening, I’m Elle. I’ll be your server this evening.” The server stood by your table, giving both of you a genuine smile.

You pulled your hands away from Joe, your index finger and thumb playing with your ring anxiously under the table. Suddenly, the thoughts that you had pushed away from the last few weeks appeared in your mind again. You bit your lower lip, trying to focus your attention back on Joe and the server. You could feel your heart beat a thousand miles per minute, and you didn’t know how to really react with what just happened.

The rest of the night, you tried to keep your thoughts to yourself. You told your mind to be quiet and just enjoy this dinner date with Joe, especially that it had been so long since you both have done this. Joe never mentioned it once during the whole dinner. He acted like nothing happened and what he did was just a normal thing. However, your heart couldn’t fit in your chest anymore. No matter how much you tried to push the thought away, you kept repeating that little scene he did before dinner.

“Hold on a second, darling.” Joe held your hand before you could open your front door later that evening.

“What is it?” You turned to face him as he cupped both of your cheeks between his hands.

“I just want to do this.” Joe leaned down to kiss you softly on the lips.

You chuckled softly, kissing him deeper and pulling him close to you. You wrapped your arms around his neck as Joe continued to kiss you, this time so lovingly and gentle.

“I love you.” He murmured through the kiss.

You let out a soft hum as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Marry me.” Joe murmured through the kiss.

You froze for a moment, parting from the kiss as you stared at him with wide eyes. Joe, however, gave you a look that was all so loving. His chocolate button eyes twinkled as he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“W…What?” Your words stuttered as you processed what you just heard.

Joe didn’t say anything as he walked around you and unlocked the front door. He turned to face you again, held out his hand and opened the front door of your flat. You gasped softly as soon as you saw what was behind him. The place was lit by candles and rose petals were laid out all over the floor.

It was like what you saw in the movies.

“My love.” Joe took your hand in his as you both entered the flat.

You swallowed every emotion that was coming up in your throat as you watched Joe’s hand reach for his pocket. Then, he gazed up at you, holding a small red box in his hand, and a smile tugging on his lips as he got down on one knee in front of you.

“Joe, I–”

“Darling, you knew that the first time I saw you, I knew that you were the one. You make me a better person everyday, and I love you so much. My heart is yours forever. Would you do me the honor to spend the rest of your life with me?”

You gasped softly, both your hands covering your mouth as tears welled up in your eyes. Your heart was racing, and you could barely find words in your mind.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You smiled as you helped Joe get up from the floor. “A thousand times yes. Yes to forever with you. Yes to everything with you.”

Joe grinned happily as he took the ring from the box and slid it on your ring finger before reeling you into his arms and kissed you passionately. Everything almost felt unreal as you kissed him back.

“I love you.” You murmured, smiling happily.

You have never felt this happy before. Your heart was exploding in happiness as Joe kissed you again and held you in his arms. A big wide grin on his face, tears welling up in his eyes the moment he parted from the kiss.

“I love you.” Joe whispered, embracing you.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you stared into his eyes, happiness radiating from the both of you.

With Joe, it was always going to be yes.

Forever.

The End.

**********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joseph Quinn Fanfics #Joe Quinn Fanfics #Joseph Quinn Fics #Joe Quinn Fics #Joseph Quinn rpf #Joe Quinn rpf #yes forever #one shot #blairrwaldorfs

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0asisbliss · 1 day

Text

Warnings: Blood.

Divider credit: benkaibear

A/N: Sorry for any spelling errors. Enjoy!

Sick Husband! Higuruma x Fem! Reader

Your husband was fragile, and very ill. When everyone looked down on him because of his illness he felt as if he was weak, and puny. He felt this way almost all his life before he met you. You gave him confidence, and wisdom with your own presence. You made him understand he was more the what his doctors told his illness was. Even with his weak body, and bones you’d love him no different.

It was the day after one of Higuruma’s many doctor appointments. He was rather gloomy on these days often being reminded of what his condition is actually like. On days he doesn’t work from home, or is spending time with you he likes to forget that his illness, and other many health issues don’t even exist. He usually stays in bed until you wake up. Sometimes he wakes up can’t even feel his own two feet. He hates asking you for help, and it’s not that you’re rude. It’s that every time he asks you so sweet about it.

Doing what he asked with a bright smile, and ending it with you plastering kisses all over his forehead. Honestly he wouldn’t ask for anything else. Today was one of those days. He sat slowly and looked over to you peacefully sleeping. He watched as your belly rose and fell. He thought you looked so beautiful as you slept. What was he gonna do? By some chance you opened your eyes to see your husband sitting straight up on his side of the bed.

“Hiro? Is something wrong?” You asked in your sleepy voice.

“Honey my feet..” He said in a low voice almost inaudible.

You looked down at your husband’s feet, and they weren’t moving at all. This wasn’t new of course. You got out of bed and walked over to his side. You took his legs gently, and pressed firmly on them. Doing this helped him wake his legs up.

“Ready to shower love? I mean I could help again..”

Higuruma looked down at his legs and he still couldn’t feel them as much as he wanted. Then he looked back at you. You smiled it looked so genuine. Not like the forced smiles his past nurses gave him. He didn’t like when you were so nice. He felt like he would never be enough for you why were you there anyway?

“It hurts a bit..but I’ll manage.” Higuruma grunted. You helped him into his wheelchair a took him into the bathroom. You undressed him, and got him into the bath tub. You sat him down in the tub, and started the water. You felt the water of the tub, and determined if the water was hot enough. You always made sure the water wasn’t too cold or hot. It had to be perfectly warm. His skin was also very sensitive.

He had to use a special soap for his skin also.

You lathered up a wash cloth and started to rinse his body you wished for him to always be so soft.

It’s not that he was mean it was as that he was up tight and slightly insecure when it came to you. He always looked down when you washed him.

You rinsed the soap off of his body, and dried him off. You took him in his wheelchair into the kitchen.

“How about pancakes?” You smiled at him brightly trying to at least get him to respond happily at you suggestion.

“Well I’d love that honey.” And for the first time that day you saw his beautiful smile.

#jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen higuruma #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk x fem!reader

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bedsyandco · 2 days

Text

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲

lukehughes

liked by jackhughes, quinnhughes, and others

lukehughes: happy birthday my vi! you mean the world to me and I’m so grateful there’s a day every year where I just get to celebrate your existence (as if I don’t do that every day already🙄) 21 has never looked so good😏 I just know you’re my best friend in every life time. I love you endlessly. -your luke❤️

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ethanedwards: this is so sappy

rutgermcgroarty: let the man celebrate his girl in peace smh😔

violet: thank you lu. I love you❤️

lani: happy birthday violet! I hope you get spoiled rotten xx

violet: thank you nini! can’t wait to see you 😚🩷

blue: happy birthday auntie vi! rosie and I are sending you the biggest hugs 🫂 🤍

violet: sending them right back 🫂

quinnhughes: happy birthday baby sis. miss you guys🤍

violet: miss you quinny😢 lake house time can’t come soon enough🫶🏻

jackhughes: happy birthday V

violet: thanks J

dylanduke: trying to copy my birthday post I see 😤

lukehughes: couldn’t even if I wanted to. we all block you on jules’ birthday cause you literally post for three hours straight.

dylanduke: you can’t out do the do-er 😌

lukehughes: do-er isn’t a word🧍‍♂️what are you even in college for??

dylanduke: says the guy that went to college just to play hockey 🧍‍♂️ do-er: the guy that gets things done with 100% effort and efficiency

stevenholtz: there’s no such thing as 100% efficiency. it’s impossible

dylanduke: this isn’t a physics class steven 😒

jules posted on her story!

… replied to this story

[violet] thank you my jules. I love you so much 🩷

[dylanduke] you look so pretty in these baby😍

[lukehughes] wow my girl looks hot as fuck in these. good enough to eat. gonna need you to send them to me jules🙏

— [jules] I will if you promise to never say that in my presence EVER again

dylan duke posted on his story!

… replied to this story

[violet] thanks gnomeo🤍

[lukehughes] MY day one

— [dylanduke] I thought I was your day one🧍‍♂️😦??

mark estapa posted on his story!

… replied to this story

[violet] thank you marky🤍

[lukehughes] this looks cozy😑

— [markestapa] 🧍‍♂️

— [markestapa] would it help if I said she was drunk and cried about how much she missed you the entire night ??

— [lukehughes] maybe just a smidge

jack hughes posted on his story!

… replied to this story

[lukehughes] this is the best you could do? no I love you nothing…

— [jackhughes] I told her I love her this morning

— [lukehughes] you put a cup of coffee, that you made wrong btw, in front of her and said “happy birthday you old bitch”

— [jackhughes] that’s how we show love!! 😤

— [lukehughes] tell her

— [jackhughes] she knows …

— [lukehughes] TELL. HER 🔫

— [jackhughes] okay ffs

[violet] thanks jacky🩷

— [jackhughes] love ya V

— [violet] 👀🤔

daxton posted on his story!

… replied to this story

[violet] I love you dax🥺 the best little brother I could’ve ever hoped for🩷😚

[lukehughes] you better call her later

— [daxton] you know I will

— [lukehughes] better call me later too

— [daxton] aww you miss me?

— [lukehughes] nah just need an ego boost and seeing your ugly mug will do that for me

— [daxton] haha 😑

quinn hughes posted on his story!

… replied to this story

[violet] craving a huggy bear hug and a lani sweet treat today🥺

— [quinnhughes] I know it’s not the same but sending you virtual hugs🫂 and lani says she’ll bake you a belated birthday cake at the lake house

— [violet] 🩷🩷🩷

#ᡣ𐭩 violet x luke

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middlingmay · 1 day

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Marge is Gale's Beard AU

I don't know what happened, but this was supposed to be a funny cute little scene of Bucky stumbling across Marge getting a little frisky with another guy, not knowing she's not actually Gale's girlfriend, and promptly losing his shit. Like 1K words, max

BUT OVER 6000 WORDS LATER AND HERE WE ARE.

I need to be stopped, jesus fucking christ.

Anyway, enjoy!

Warnings: violence, blood. Also period-typical attitudes towards monogamy.

Also, John doesn't look to good for part of this fic, but he is genuinely apologetic, and comes out the other side the John we all know and love. He's just going through some things!

Read under the cut!

Ostensibly, this little get together was a send off for Bucky who was being shipped off to Thorpe Abbotts in England thanks to his new and entirely unwanted position as Air Executive. But it was also a chance for the rest of the fellas to enjoy one more night of fun and frivolity with their loved ones before they left the States in a few weeks, some of them for the very first time. Maybe some of them for the last.

And for Buck, that meant none other than Marge.

They had been friends since they were kids. She was the first and remained the only girl he had ever brought home to his mother, and even father was on his best behaviour whenever she was around. Such was the power of Marjorie Spencer.

She was also the first and only girl he had ever kissed. They were teenagers, and even if Gale wasn’t as half-wild as his classmates about all the pretty girls, he was still a hormonal boy and one night, when he walked her home, he took her little face in his big hands and kissed her.

She’d pulled back frowning. “Gale. I don’t have brothers, but if I did I reckon that’s what it’d feel like to kiss ‘em.”

She wasn’t wrong. He’d heard the nasty locker room talk about boys sporting half a woody just at kissin’ a girl, and Gale hadn’t felt so much as a flicker.

Then, some while later, he’d felt the full fury of those teenage hormones when James ‘Jett’ Granger, school football star, had bowled him over and landed on top of him on the floor with a thud.

Jett had laughed and apologised and hauled Gale, who was not dainty by any stretch of the imagination, up like he was nothing with an apology on his lips. Like he hadn’t just upended Gale’s entire world.

When he told Marge, she’d cackled and leered like a locker room boy and said, “Did you…” and stuck her tongue between her teeth.

Gale spluttered and coughed on his spit and his blood pounded in his ears. But he couldn’t deny it, even as he scolded, “Marjorie Spencer!”

But once she got over her glee and teasing, she saw Gale work his lip like a well done steak and softened. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with you.”

Gale scoffed. “We both know you’re the only one round here who thinks like that.”

Even Marge couldn’t stubborn her way out of that cold hard fact.

“Alright then,” she said with a set to her jaw. “Then you’ll be my fella, far as anyone knows. Least until you find one of your own.”

Gale’s heart flooded his body with warmth and he must have looked at Marge like she was a saint. “I can’t do that, Marge. What if you find a guy you really want to be your fella?”

But Marge looked highly sceptical. “Round here? You’re all I got.”

He smiled at the sentiment but he still wore worry on his brow and Marge darted forward to kiss at least a bit of it away. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

And they never had. Right up until Gale enlisted and was due to be shipped off to basic training, Marge kept assuring him every boy that came around was a knucklehead, and as little as Gale even let himself do so much as look, he couldn’t say he disagreed with her.

The night before he left, after an awkward near silent dinner with his folks that his mother had insisted on, he and Marge had laid a blanket out on an empty field and looked at the starts.

“I still can’t believe you’re going,” she said, voice thick.

Gale couldn’t say ‘sorry’, couldn’t say he wished he wasn’t going, because he wasn’t no liar. He’d wanted to be a pilot since he was a boy and he couldn’t wait to get started.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy.” But that there, that was the truth.

Marge snorted, true and ugly. “Yeah, right. You’re going to be surrounded by all the cute boys and I’m stuck here with the cream of the Caspar crop.”

Gale kicked her shoe. “Oh, yeah. No lookin’. No touchin’. Not unless I wanna come home with a crack in my skull and a blue ticket in my first. At the least.”

Because Gale wasn’t scared of the military. He wasn’t scared of leaving home or being surrounded by strangers. He wasn’t scared at the possibility of having to head into a fight. But being found out? That petrified him.

Marge clutched his hand with all the strength she possessed. “I’ll write you,” she vowed. “Every day if I have to. I’ll spritz the letters with perfume and kiss them and everything. No one will know, I promise.”

Marge’s promises were better than the word of God.

Until he met John Egan.

The long-limbed, freckled, moustached, larger and louder than life man had thrown himself into Gale’s life with very little input from the man himself. He given him his name and kept by his side, like he’d adopted a dog.

Despite himself, Gale had actively tried to dislike John, or Bucky, at first. He put up a cold front to his overt friendliness; threw off his wandering hands possessed with so much affection that he just couldn’t keep them still. Gale refused every single invitation for as long as he could. And yet.

Gale found himself looking for Bucky in whenever he entered a room. He listened carefully whenever he spoke during briefings, and chiming in until they were bouncing ideas of off each other, unaware of the secret smiles of their superior officers. When Gale struggled to sleep, he found himself asking Bucky any question he could think of just to hear him rattle on until he was finally lulled to rest.

He stopped rejecting and started anticipating John’s touch, even positioning himself so as to welcome it, necessitate it; an arm over the back of a chair set close to his; a tiny gap in a doorway or corridor that required a gentle touch to a guy’s waist or his back. And soon Bucky became one of the only men Gale ever touched comfortably beyond a squeeze of the shoulder or a pat on the arm.

One of the other boys had tried once, to swing an arm over Gale’s shoulder. Whether it was because he saw Bucky do it and wanted to emulate the two men so respected by the others, he wasn’t sure, but he hadn’t done it again. The less said about it, the better.

Marge noticed, of course.

He hadn’t been aware of how much Bucky had filtered into his letters, and Marge’s questions had seemed innocent at first. And Gale had been all to happy for the outlet. Then in one letter she had scribbled:

He sounds like a scream, Gale. I’m glad you’ve made such a fast friend. I can't wait to meet him, and make sure he’s good enough for my fella. Can’t have you taking up with a no good kinda man who’s just going to lead you into trouble.

He knew Marge better than he knew himself. He could read between the lines: make sure he’s no bigot before you go getting attached.

Which brought them to that night at the bar. The first thing John had done on being introduced to Marge was to sweep her off for a dance.

Springing away with Gale’s girl in tow, Bucky hollered over his shoulder, “I gotta make sure poor Marge gets to dance with someone, tonight, Buck!”

The boys had all jeered and Marge swatted John’s chest playfully, but soon she was just as swept up in the force of him as they all were, and laughed with flushed cheeks the whole time.

It warmed something healing in his heart to see the two people closest to him in the world get on like a house on fire.

At one point, when Bucky went to the bar, Marge slumped into his side.

“Oh, Gale. You never stood a chance against him, did you?”

Not a snowflake’s in hell.

But before Gale could get too despondent about that, she continued. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s a good man. I think he- I think you’re safe with him. Yeah?”

Gale nodded. Of course he was. It was Bucky.

Then she got that impish look on her face. “So I say, look your fill.”

Gale shushed her and looked around to see if anyone was paying closer attention than they should’ve. No one was, thankfully, and when his heart rate returned to normal, he remembered he could tease right back.

“Well," he said coyly into her ear, “speaking of looking your fill, that black-haired fella at the corner table at the back has been throwing you looks all night.”

Marge pretended to look unaffected and Gale leaned in even closer. “Don’t think I didn’t see you lookin’ back.”

Marge’s vicious little elbow checked his ribs just as Bucky came back with their drinks.

“Thank you, John,” she said primly. “But I have to visit the powder room.”

John toasted her off and looked at Buck, bemused. “Something I said?”

Gale nearly laughed. “Naw. She just likes to keep me in line.”

John shook his head. “And ain’t that a crying shame. I’m surprised she hasn’t upbraided me for trying to undo all her hard work.”

Later, Gale would blame the giddiness that came from John’s proximity for what he said next. “I only gotta behave with her. You can get me as riled up as you like.”

John inhaled too much of his drink and coughed until there were tears in his eyes. Gale flushed to his ears and kicked him under the table.

Giggling and breathless, John kicked him right back even harder. “Noted.”

“Ask Major Cleven! He’s great at calculations.”

“Sir? Sir!”

A few boys in the ground crew called Buck over, and John waved him off good naturedly. “Go awe the masses, Buck. I need a smoke anyway.”

It look less than five minutes for Marge to come barrelling towards him, a wild and furious and worried look him her eye.

“Gale, It’s John! You gotta get John!”

There was a door at the back of the bar that led to the dead end of an alley outside. When he just wanted a quiet smoke in the peace of the evening, John liked to head out there instead of the front with everyone else, where he could easily while away the better part of an hour talking to all and sundry.

And he was enjoying spending his evening Buck. And Marge.

She was a sweet little spitfire. She had the looks of spun glass and high class, but even after spending nothing more than a handful of hours with her, Bucky could tell she was no wall flower, no meek dame. And John didn’t think about it too closely, but he liked that the girl who Gale loved so much wasn’t so different from himself.

Where John liked the think of him and Buck as sides of the same coin - dark and light; steady and gregarious; push and pull - Marge and Buck were one of a kind, like the couples on the movie posters. Their love felt inevitable.

And, as John was learning about himself, he was apparently a possessive man, because between him and the cigarette in his mouth, he could acknowledge the bitter flash of jealousy he got when he looked at them too long.

He pushed open the back door, a box of matches in hand, and looked up on hearing two frightened gasps.

Marge. Her eyes were so wide, there was more white than blue. Her hair was a mess, clutched in the meaty hand of another man. A man who’s face was too close to the crook of her neck.

And both of them wore such fear in their eyes.

John’s cigarette finally gave up its precarious balance on John’s gaping lips and tumbled to the floor. The box of matches dove after it.

“John.” It was a tiny, panicked sound.

And it snapped John back to attention. With two strides of his long legs he had Marge tucked behind him and slammed the man into the brick wall of the alley hard, and smiled ugly with all teeth when he heard the meaty thunk of his head hit the wall.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” John snarled in the man’s face, low and incandescent with rage he didn’t even know how to begin to unleash.

“John-” Marge tugged at his back, urgent.

“Taking advantage of a girl after a few drinks-”

“No, John-!”

He grabbed two fistfuls of the guy’s shirt and rattled him until he heard teeth clack. “A girl who’s taken. By your superior officer!”

“It’s not like that!” Marge yanked at John’s ear and he was forced to turn away from the man, but he didn’t relinquish him.

He calmed himself as much as he could. “Marge. Are you alright?”

But Marge looked painfully, worryingly exacerbated. “For God’s sake, John! It’s not what it looks like!”

“It looked like he was forcing himself on ya!”

But the Marge clutching at his lapels didn’t look scared, not of the man behind him, anyway. She had a little bit of fear when she looked at him though, and John didn’t like that at all.

It’s not what it looks like.

And if it looked like she was forced…

John’s heart broke for Gale, before the red pricks of anger started to twitch at his muscles.

“Oh. It’s like that, huh?”

“No!”

“Are you with Gale or aren’t you?!”

Marge swallowed something down and almost reluctantly said, “Yes.”

The boy chose the wrong moment to pluck at the reserves of his bravado.

“There’s no harm, Major,” he panted. “It was just some harmless fun. It didn’t mean nothing. We all know Cleven’s too much of a gentleman-”

John snapped his fist into the man’s jaw and followed through. The wall was the only thing that kept him standing. So John pulled him upright and slammed a punch into the side of his face and he went tumbling down.

John followed him, straddling him as he grabbed a handful of the guy’s jacket. Blood was already smeared over his mouth and John rained down hell and hit his nose with a crack and blood came pouring outta that too.

He switched his grip to the guy’s hair to keep the lolling head upright as he leaned down and growled into his ear. “You think you’re going to make a fool out of either one of them, you got another thing coming.”

He pulled back to land one last hit, a good one to drive his point home, when a solid weight barrelled into him from behind, wrapped an arm around his waist and hauled him into the air. John spun around swinging, but another arm got a stranglehold around the back of his neck and he was wrapped up painfully tight and too close to do anything.

And the scent of Buck’s cologne penetrated his senses and the fight left him.

Because fuck. How was he going to explain this? How was he going to tell Buck he’d caught his woman in the arms of another man? Should he even tell him? If it was Bucky, he’d wanna know, but maybe if he spoke to Marge and she promised it was a drunken mistake (God knows he’d had plenty of those), and it would never happen again, he wouldn’t have to tank Buck’s perfect love story.

“John!” Buck shook him hard enough that Bucky knew he tried to get his attention more than once. “The heck were you thinking?! You outta your goddamn mind?!”

Bucky heard shuffling behind him and he managed to turn just enough in Buck’s unforgiving grip to see the man being led inside by some of their boys, who shot furtive, concerned glances at their Majors.

Then there was Marge, hanging back and looking at Buck with something awfully sorry. He felt Buck nod at her and she went to head back inside, but not before sending Bucky a scathing look and a roll of her eyes.

Now there was nothing to spare him from Buck.

Only now did Buck loosen his grip and let Bucky back a step, and only a step.

“You have done some damn foolish things since I met you, Bucky. But fightin’ with a subordinate?!”

“You don’t understand-” and Buck really wasn’t sure he wanted him to.

“I understand plenty. Marge told me everything.”

Buck couldn’t help but scoff. “Oh? And what did Marge say?”

“That you caught her neckin’ with some guy and went off the damn rails!”

Buck was shocked stupid. Not just that Marge had told the truth, but that Buck seemed more pissed at him that he was at her.

“Then why are you riding me for?! I was defending you - you should be thanking me!”

Buck tensed his jaw so hard, Bucky expected to hear a crack. “Thanking you? For nearly bringing down my whole house of cards?!”

By now Bucky felt he was missing some vital information, and he couldn’t think straight with Buck so close to him, radiating fury. He shrugged off Buck’s hands and shook his head.

“Hold on, hold on,” he held up his palms. “You’re pissed at me for socking the guy making it with your girl behind your back?”

Buck sighed harsh and annoyed like Bucky was the most exasperating thing in the world and Bucky was getting more offended by the second.

“No, y’dummy!”

“Dummy?”

“I’m mad because if Marge hadn’t kept her head and got me before anyone else saw you fighting, everyone might have found out she ain’t actually my girl!”

“I - what?!”

Buck gave a frustrated groan that didn’t quite get out of his throat and prayed for patience. And maybe a little bravery. He trusted John, vexing as he could me. But sometimes fear was instinctual. But he couldn’t let Bucky go on thinking he saw what he thought he saw. But Christ if the other man didn’t make it difficult.

“But - you and Marge - since high school. You said-”

“Well, I lied. Kind of.”

“Kind of? You kind of lied?”

Bucky huffed. “We’ve been tellin’ people we’ve been together since high school. So no one would know…about me…” he trailed off meaningfully.

For all but Bucky, apparently. “Know what?”

“That I…that…” God, why couldn’t he just say it? Bucky may be as straight as they come, but he wasn’t that kind of guy, and he was Buck's best friend to boot. He choked down his frustrations and finally managed to spit out, “That…Marge ain’t the only one who likes looking at cute boys.”

Buck blushed as he said it. He sounded like a stupid teenager. But Bucky just stuttered to a stop and gawped at him. Buck watched his mouth flap, trying and failing to utter a sound, like it too couldn’t believe John Egan had finally been rendered silent.

“I - you’re-?”

“Gay? Queer? A big ol’ blue ticket? Yeah.”

What he certainly hadn’t been expecting was for Bucky to near drop to his knees in a mix of relief and panic.

“Haah-fuck, Gale," John grimaced, breathing heavy over his knees, which looked to be the only thing supporting his weight. "They're gonna court martial me in the morning. Don’t get me wrong - I’m glad I didn’t have to break your heart, tellin’ you Marge was stepping out on you, but fuck. I punched out a subordinate. Fuck.”

Side-stepping the unintentional lie in what John said, Buck, mightily and heroically refrained from rolling his eyes. “Don't get hysterical, Bucky. It don't become you. Relax, I'll fix it.”

And really, the sheer force of the scepticism on Bucky's face was down right insulting.

“Yeah? And how you gonna do that?”

Buck's brain worked furiously for an excuse - the reason’s why men hit other men over women that weren’t jealousy. Protection being the main one, but he didn’t want to put Marge in the frame at all if possible. Then he remembered a story Bucky told him once about a boy that had taken a shine to Bucky’s much younger sister, and Bucky had followed him home one day after his sister had come home cryin' with red bruises round her wrists.

“You ain't gonna like it.”

“Solid start.”

Buck nearly cuffed him round the ear like an insolent, child. “Hush. Now, you uh, ever planning on introducing your sisters to the boys?”

Bucky balked. “Absolutely not. What does that-”

“Listen. That man inside, bleeding - he looked a lot like a fella who left your sister a little worse for wear. Let the boys take that however they see fit.”

“The hell you tryna say about my sister?!”

“Nothing, idjit! Listen!”

Bucky shut his trap with visible effort.

“He looked almost exactly like that man, and when you saw him near Marge - near her and nothing else, you understand? You lost it. Alright? You’d had too much to drink, you weren’t thinking clear, and you were seeing you baby sister, not Marge. Right?”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose and the gesture was so typically Gale’s that it stole his breath to see it on the other man.

But he had to press on. “Right?”

Bucky capitulated. “Alright, alright. But Jeannie ever finds out about this, we’re both dead.”

Buck eyed Bucky then, waiting for the other show to fall. “Is that all you gotta say to me?”

Bucky's face fell and cleared in realisation and Buck's stomach bubbled with a flare of anxiety about what he might say.

“Ah, fuck. Sorry, yeah. I’ve got to apologise to Marge, don’t I?”

Buck’s eye twitched, because Bucky had to be playing so damn dumb on purpose.

But, he wasn’t wrong.

“Well, yeah. She liked that boy. And you gon’ scared him off.”

Bucky scoffed though, waving a dismissive hand. “If you’re her fake fella, Buck. Marge has got to raise her standards for her real one. Don’t worry, I’ll find her a nice guy; a real prince to your pauper, so to speak.”

“That is not how the story goes.”

But then something occurred to Buck. He’d seen Bucky charm plenty of women, a lot of them blondes. Now that Bucky knew Marge was technically single…

“You mean someone like you?”

Bucky smirked and stepped toe to toe with Buck. He let his large hands smooth out the wrinkles Buck had worked into his own uniform wrangling Bucky earlier. His fingers slipped to his crooked tie and slowly knotted it back into place.

“You callin’ me a prince, Buck Cleven?”

Buck wanted to brush it off, to turn it into a joke, say anything to break the tension. But his tongue felt thick and useless in his mouth. All his brain could process was the proximity of Bucky, the smell of Bucky, and heat of his fingers at Buck’s collar.

Bucky leaned closer, like a he had a secret to share. “That make you my princess?”

And that should not have crackled a hot, thrilling tremor to life that sent him rocking infinitesimally closer to Bucky, a gasp somehow escaping the clutch his teeth had on his lips.

Bucky’s eyes darkened, but before he could say or do anything, the backdoor to the pub opened again and Marge’s golden head popped out.

“If you two are quite done?” she sounded like a teacher scolding the class clowns. “I am fending off almost an entire bomb group in there by myself and they’re like a pack of wild dogs. Some help, if you’d be so kind.”

Buck coughed and stepped back and trotted dutifully to Marge’s side. “Sorry, darlin’,” he said and dropped a kiss to her cheek.

Bucky was left with Marjorie Spencer staring at him, hands on her hips.

“Well?” she said expectantly.

Sheepishly, Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. “In my defence, you could do better?”

He saw murder in her eyes and quickly backtracked. Now was not the time for jokes. Evidently Marge did not appreciate them the way Buck did.

Bucky dropped his arms by his sides and looked her in the eye. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that, no matter what I thought. I’m not - God, Marge, I’m not a violent man. Bit of a motor mouth sure, and I’ll stand up for any of my boys, but I don’t usually…”

Marge let him stew in the silence for a bit. But eventually, “No you shouldn’t have. I might be thankful that Gale has you looking out for him, but you can’t be such a hot head, John Egan. I don’t appreciate it and Gale don’t like it.”

Gently, Bucky took one of Marge’s hands, tiny in one of his, and raised it to his lips to place a sorry kiss there with a rueful smile “I will never lay hands on someone like that again, unless it's for a very good reason. I promise. But Buck’s pretty good at keeping me in check.”

Marge blessed him with a knowing smile. “I’m sure he is.”

And then Bucky was back in full force. “But seriously, Marge, you’ve got to at least date sideways. You can’t date down. Anyone less than Buck ain’t good enough for you.”

She rolled her eyes and pointed him back inside, letting him offer his arm. “Well when you find him, you let me know. Because I’m shit outta luck.”

They re-entered the pub laughing and any remaining tension in the room seemed to release. As Bucky took Marge for another spin round the dancefloor, he felt Buck’s eyes on them and risked a glance. And what a risk. Gale stared, blue eyes pinned on him over the smooth rim of his glass, tracking Bucky’s every move and licking the moisture off his lips.

Bucky threw him a wink and mouthed, Later, princess.

Colonel Huglin did not appreciate having to consider disciplinary action at six am. Yet having a man like Major John Egan under his command meant Huglin’s dreams didn’t count for much.

He watched this respected, no, revered man stand before him, clasp and unclasp his hands, purse his lips, and shift his legs like he was fighting the urge to rock on his heels. Like a misbehaving school boy. If Huglin had never met him, and someone had asked him to pick out the best pilot (on par with Major Cleven), the quickest thinker, an excellent strategist and the man almost single-handedly responsible for morale on base, Huglin wouldn't even have spared John a glance.

And yet.

“I haven’t seen him yet, but I’d bet my commission that the young fella you thrashed good and sound yesterday looks real pretty this morning.”

John grimaced. And, surprisingly enough it was not the wince of one awaiting an unwanted scolding, but one that actually looked like regret. John, who never ever failed to look a man in the eye, looked down at his shoes, lips twisting, and just nodded.

Major Cleven had come to him even earlier, at 5.20am, before Huglin had even had his coffee, and filled him in on what happened last night.

“You know Major Egan, Sir. I know you don’t always see eye to eye but he’s not a violent man, not like that. But,” and Gale and leaned forward in his chair, concern creasing his brow and wringing his hands together, “his sister, before he left, she had some…awful kind of trouble. With a fella. That looked just like the man from last night, John said. You know how much he looks after the men, and he loves his sisters. It drives him crazy he’s not there to look after ‘em with their dad not being around anymore… Sorry Sir, I’m rambling.” He was, and it was unlike Cleven who was a man of few words. Surely, a testament to his worry over his friend and brother-in-arms. “I just mean to say, John thought - John saw -"

And Huglin had cut Cleven off with a wave of his hand. He understood. He’d seen countless men wide eyed, crying or screaming at something or someone who wasn’t really there. It didn’t mean Egan could get entirely off the hook, but he understood.

“You have anything to say for yourself?”

“Can I see him?”

Huglin hadn't been expecting that. “What?”

“The…guy. God I don’t even know his name. But I’d like to apologise, if he’ll let me. He deserves that at least, and I’d like to settle it before I go.”

He wasn’t due to fly to Thorpe Abbots until mid-morning. There was plenty of time. “Evans. Airman First Class Evans. And I’ll ask his superior officer and let you know.”

Bucky released a breath and nodded, more to himself, Huglin thought, before he squared his shoulders at the Colonel.

“I just want to apologise, Sir. What I did yesterday was not becoming of a Major of the US Airforce. I know that. It’s not the kind of man I am or how I want my men to see me. I’m…” John swallowed. “I embarrassed the uniform. And I hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry, Sir.”

Huglin needed a moment to collect himself. He wasn’t stupid. He knew part of the reason the men admired Egan so was because he never backed down from the higher ups, always spoke his mind and said his piece - but Huglin couldn’t think of one time it wasn’t on their behalf. To get them what they needed or give them the best odds, or even distract them on days the base just became too heavy. But this was a side of John that Huglin had never seen: the human man underneath the military man.

And Huglin had sisters, too. He could empathise.

“I’m glad to hear that, Major. Normally, there’d be a disciplinary hearing, and we’d decide what was to be done with you.”

John bit his cheek but nodded, accepting.

“But, I think in this case, I can smooth things over. If, you apologise to Evans and his CO, and goddamn cool it on the liquor, John. I mean it. There might even be a mandatory anger management session with the doc in your future, and if so I won't hear a damn single word of complaint from you, understood?”

John reared back looking stunned, and Huglin let himself enjoy it. “Don’t look so surprised. Your buddy Cleven was by here and told me everything. And be glad he did. Otherwise I’d be tempted to ground you the rest of this damn war.”

John said nothing.

“Alright, get out of here. You’ve got a trip to prepare for. And an apology, too.”

“Yes, sir,. John turned smartly on his heels and headed for the door.

When he reached the jam, Huglin called out,. "And John? Give my best wishes to your sister, will you? If they need anything, you let me know.”

John made a funny noise in his throat and nodded before he all but fled the room.

Buck was waiting for him outside. He leapt to his feet when he saw Bucky emerge looking frazzled.

“Well? How’d it go?”

Bucky fell into step next to him, and out of the corner of his mouth said, “What on earth did you tell Huglin? Because whatever it was, I almost got out of there scot-free.”

And Buck didn't fail to notice that Bucky didn’t sound happy about it. He new in the sober light of day, and with the clarity sleep brings, John would be beating himself up something fierce for attacking that boy. Which he should, by rights, but John did take self-flagellation to extremes sometimes. Gale wondered if it was the Catholic in him, lapsed or not.

“You’re still Air Exec?”

“Yeah?”

Buck nudged him. “Sounds like a punishment to me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and came to a halt at the mouth of the building, staring out onto the tarmac.

“I want to apologise to the boys,” he said, hands on his hips and head hanging low. “I just, can’t stop thinking about them seeing me like that. I don’t…”

Standing where they were, Buck couldn't do much but clasp his shoulder and lean down to look Bucky in the eye. “Then let’s go find ‘em.”

The boys, as it turned out, were just finishing getting dressed. They didn’t notice the Majors enter the bunk house at first.

“-wonder what happened?”

“None of your business, that’s what happened,” said DeMarco.

“It shouldn’t have happened.” Brady. Bucky flinched.

“Ay,” Curtis dove into the conversation. “You don’t know shit. If he got a bit banged up, then he deserved it. Don’t go thinking anything else.”

And despite himself, Bucky let himself crack a smile at Curt’s friendship and loyalty.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Brady insisted, stubborn and louder. “John’s our leader. He’s a Major. I’m his co-pilot for crying out loud. He should be setting an example, and starting bar fights isn’t it. I don’t know about you, but I want to head into war with the John Egan who has your back, and keeps his head in the air so good he solves problems before half the crew even notice they’re there. Not the John who’ll flip at a switch. I don’t like that John.”

Several of the boys protested and booed Brady and started yelling and cursing, and they knew a more serious argument was about the break out with Brady bearing the brunt of it if they didn’t step in.

Buck let Bucky go when he stepped further into the room.

“Brady’s right,” he called, and the men snapped to attention and Brady dropped the shoe he’d been polishing and stumbled to his feet.

Buck walked up steady behind Bucky, a solid presence at his shoulder. “At ease, gentlemen.”

Bucky stood tall and true. “Last night, I acted in a way that was unfit for a man of the US Airforce, rank be damned. It should never have happened, and it will never happen again. I just wanted you to know that.” He surveyed the boys and they looked on silent. “We all make mistakes, and things get heated sometimes. This one is my mistake, and I’ll own that. So don’t you boys go thinking that starting fights with your fellow airmen to blow of some steam is acceptable. It’s not. You can all learn that lesson from me. That’s part of my job - teaching you how to avoid making the same mistakes I have.”

And in true Bucky fashion he flipped the solemn mood of the room with a switch and a turn of his lips and he gave them a sincere Bucky grin.

“Like that time I wandered into the Colonel’s quarters by mistake and got stuck on latrine duty for a week.” The boys relaxed into their laughter. “Remember that?” He pointed at Curt. “You made me sleep out in that abandoned storage hut until I was done.”

“You stank!”

“Or that time I yanked Ham back from the shaky step heading into the mess hall?”

Ham howled from his bunk. “Because you’d tripped a week or so before it, and sent your scrambled eggs all down a Red Cross dame. That handprint on your cheek didn’t disappear for a whole day!”

Buck just stood back and marvelled at Bucky's ability to work a room.

“So if me or Buck here ain’t around to give you the benefit of our experience,” he reached out and clasped the back of Brady’s head and scrubbed it playfully, “be damn sure you listen to Brady. Best co-pilot there is.”

The men all hollered and scrambled to rib at Brady, rubbing his head like Bucky did or punching him playfully in the arm or chucking his chin.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. “Because we’re the 100th. The best damn bomb squad there is. And we’ll damn well act like it. Do you hear me?”

“Yes sir!”

Bucky shouted louder. “I said do you hear me?!”

“SIR, YES SIR!”

“Because who are we?!”

“The 100th!”

“Who are we?!!”

“THE 100TH!”

“Then get your gear on, get out there, and show ‘em how it’s done!”

Making a thunderous racket, the boys gathered the last of their things and rushed out the door, Brady the last of the group, shooting Bucky a small, pleased, and proud smile before he disappeared.

The silence they left behind was a stark contrast. Until Buck couldn’t take it anymore.

He snorted and cackled and John threw his hands in the air. “Really, Buck?”

Buck cleared his throat and got himself under control. Adopting the highest voice he could, in something that could barely pass as Bucky's odd not-quite Wisconsin accent, he teased him, “My name’s John Egan, and I’m a terrible leader on the ground!”

Bucky shoved him hard, but yanked him back with a firm arm around his bicep and pulled him in close, so the buckles of their belts gave a soft clack in greeting.

They were alone.

“I’ll be flying at at 10.30 sharp,” Bucky mumbled up close.

Buck nodded. “I know. I’ll see you off, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“Mm, with a handshake in front of the boys.”

Buck gave him a firm look. “Of course. Don’t you go thinking otherwise.”

Bucky smiled and leaned in closer, and Buck was surprised that he even could. “But the boys aren’t here, now.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re lookin’ for, huh? A little send of?”

Bucky's hands bravely slipped down to his waist and squeezed, and Buck resolutely did not think about how his waist fit all nice in John’s stupidly large hands. He was not a small man - he was tall; he worked hard all his life, and despite a less than stellar childhood, always had enough to eat. But John was just so damn big.

“Just a kiss, Buck. For luck. To tide me over till you get over the pond.”

Buck grinned, a rare one showing his teeth and leaned in until he felt the softness of Bucky's lips skim the edges of his own. He kept it there, just not quite touching until he heard Bucky's breath hitch and his hands tried their hardest not to wander some more.

And against that mouth he’d dreamed about in his sleep, he’d fantasised about in his waking hours, he murmured, playful and sweet, “No.”

He turned sharp in his heels and escaped Bucky's grasp and threw a pleased grin over his shoulder at Bucky gaping in his wake.

“Buck!”

“You’ll just have to wait for me, Johnny!” And Gale ducked out of the bunk house and left Bucky behind, to attend his duties.

And John stood there wondering what on earth he was in for, taking up with a tease like Buck Cleven. But he couldn’t wait to find out.

#clegan #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #mota #masters of the air #fic

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mumms-the-word · 2 days

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Illithid Souls - Part 1

What’s up with mind flayers and souls anyway?

I know this deep dive has been done before like a hundred times, based on all the Reddit threads I’ve read, but I feel like a lot of the "evidence" has been scattered about in a lot of places (reddit, tumblr, other threads, other socials, etc). So I figured...why not gather a lot of it here in one place?

As with all my deep dives, this post is designed to equip you with some lore so you can build your own theories and ideas. I’ll offer theories that I find interesting or feasible, but lore is always a little hazy so I’m bound to be wrong or you’re bound to interpret things differently. Just have fun with the lore!

I’ll start by defining what D&D calls a soul, and then…well it unravels from there. In this part we're going to dive into the lore about souls, the afterlife, and where mind flayers differ, along with a bit of in-game context. In Part 2 we'll look at individual case studies (Tav/Durge, Orpheus, Karlach, and Gale).

Buckle up, folks, cause it's a long one!

As always, I’ll include images and image descriptors/text written out in case the pictures fail or are too small to read!

What is a soul?

The entire game of Baldur's Gate 3 is heavily invested in the idea of souls. Raphael wants to bargain with your soul. Mizora has Wyll's soul bound to a contract. Cazador plans to sacrifice 7007 souls. Vlaakith consumes the souls of her faithful. Karlach wants to collect (and use) soul coins. Every tadpoled follower of the Absolute is called a True Soul. This game is OBSESSED with souls.

But it never actually defines a soul, does it? So what do the official D&D rules say?

Well...they don't. Older editions used to split hairs about the difference between a soul and a spirit, but those older editions also used to say that elves, orcs, and half-orcs didn't have souls, so...we've moved on a bit from those days.

In the game, a book on soul coins defines souls as "the sum of personal and magical essence," which is both helpful and vague. The general player consensus is that a soul is the animating "force" that is made up of memories, personality, intelligence, and (possibly) morality, and that in some cases, such as the spell Speak with Dead, a soul differs from a spirit, which merely "animates" the body but does not actually possess the personality or the thinking capabilities of the deceased (though it may have access to memories).

Speak with Dead [...] Until the spell ends, you can ask the corpse up to five questions. The corpse knows only what it knew in life, including the languages it knew. [...] This spell doesn't return the creature's soul to its body, only its animating spirit. Thus, the corpse can't learn new information, doesn't comprehend anything that has happened since it died, and can't speculate about future events.

So there's a chance that while an entire soul is generally made up of personality, memories, and some element of active thinking/decision making/speculation (intelligence, for lack of a better term), the part of a soul that functions as an "animating spirit" is what houses memory. In other words, animating spirit (memories) + personality + intelligence = soul.

This idea of the animating spirit (memories) being housed within a soul, but also detachable from a soul, is important for later, so remember this in a bit.

Souls also have power, which is why the game is obsessed with everyone fighting over souls. Raphael, Mizora, and Cazador trade in souls in exchange for power. There are insinuations in the game that the gods want to stop the "scourge of soulless illithids" (Mystra's words) because souls are a kind of currency to them (though, trust me, trying to find a recent D&D source that clearly states that particular stance is a damn migraine of an endeavor). But Withers does say that souls imbue gods with power, so the game at least operates with that assumption in mind.

According to Withers…

We all know that Withers, aka Jergal, aka the Final Scribe, aka the former god of death, aka the expert on souls, has plenty to say when you ask him to elaborate on anything:

Well, okay, maybe he doesn't. But he does have a bit more to say about souls and mind flayers. For example, when he first brings up the topic of illithids and souls in Moonrise, this is some of the information he can give the player.

Withers: I shall ask yet again. Do illithids possess souls? Player: These abominations are soulless, surely. Withers: Correct. - Player: I'm not sure. Don't all living things? Withers: No. Nor canst thou count mind flayers among them. - Player: I admit I haven't thought about it. Withers: Thou shalt think about it now, and I shall give the answer. Mind flayers are soulless. Yet the Three amass an illithid army, void of apostolic souls that could imbue them with power.

A couple of things to note here. Jergal, the guy in charge of putting down the names of people who die and keeping track of where their souls go, is pretty clear that he thinks mind flayers don't have souls. But his last statement clarifies two things: one, that he is referring specifically to apostolic souls (more on that in a bit) and that souls imbue gods with power.

Souls give the gods a kind of strength. He brings this up when he criticizes the dumb plot the Dead Three came up with in his post-epilogue scene:

Thou sought to bolster thy strength by taking away the souls of mortals. But souls vanish when their hosts become mind flayers.

So we know that souls are a source of power for deities and gods because they imbue gods with power and strength. But gods only get the power of these souls after a mortal dies with their soul intact. If someone becomes a mind flayer...well, let's just say the natural order of things gets disrupted.

What happens when you die?

You see, normally, when someone dies in Faerûn (assuming they are humanoid), their soul travels to the Fugue Plane where it basically waits around until a deity picks them up or Kelemvor decides they're just going to be part of the Wall of the Faithless for forever. From the Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide (page 20 because I am, as youtuber Swoop says in her docs, a thorough bitch):

The Afterlife Most humans believe the souls of the recently deceased are spirited away to the Fugue Plane, where they wander the great City of Judgment, often unaware they are dead. The servants of the gods come to collect such souls and, if they are worthy, they are taken to their awaited afterlife in the deity's domain. Occasionally, the faithful are sent back to be reborn into the world to finish work that was left undone.

This is where the idea of apostolic souls comes in. Apostolic, in its most basic definition, means "having the characteristics of an apostle," or having the characteristics of someone who dedicates their entire lives to the teaching of a particular religious figure (in our context and reality, this mostly means the apostles of Christ, but in BG3 it would refer to any deity). I think here, the definition gets stretched a little thinner to mean any soul that is capable of devotion to a deity, rather than a soul that is already devoted. Apostolic souls can be Faithful, Faithless, or False (which is how souls are separated in the Fugue Plane).

In other words, an apostolic soul is a humanoid-specific soul that the deities recognize and can use as a source of power by inviting said soul into their domain. Mind flayers do not have apostolic souls. Emphasis on apostolic here, but we'll back to mind flayers in a minute. For now, let's look at the Faithless and False souls.

Souls that are unclaimed by the servants of the gods are judged by Kelemvor, who decides the fate of each one. Some are charged with serving as guides for other lost souls, while others are transformed into squirming larvae and cast into the dust. The truly false and faithless are mortared into the Wall of the Faithless, the great barrier that bounds the City of the Dead, where their souls slowly dissolve and begin to become part of the stuff of the Wall itself.

Depressing.

The distinction between a Faithless and a False soul is a little hazy, but according to the Forgotten Realms wiki, a Faithless soul is someone who never aligned themselves to the worship of a specific deity or who just didn't believe in the existence of the gods at all (think of Astarion, who outright rejects all gods). A False soul, in contrast, is someone who did believe but failed to serve their god or outright betrayed them (a fate that Gale feels he is faced with for being on Mystra's bad side). Allegedly all the Faithless end up becoming part of the Wall, whereas the False could get mitigated sentences, such as becoming guides for other souls.

Of course, there's nothing stopping deities from combing through Faithless or False souls to collect them into their domains. But it could take a while. Clearly, the more souls a god collects into their domains, the more powerful they become, but the gods are also not exactly fighting over the souls of Faithless or False people, because people can end up waiting hundreds of years before Kelemvor is finally like "guess you're part of the wall now." Your only option to get out of that is to sell your soul to a devil, which isn't a much better fate.

From The Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide, page 25, regarding servants of Asmodeus:

To those not so dedicated, priests of Asmodeus offer the prospect of a reprieve in the afterlife. All souls wait on the Fugue Plane for a deity's pleasure, which determines where a soul will spend the rest of eternity. Those who lived their lives most in keeping with a deity's outlook are taken first. Others, who have transgressed in the eyes of their favored god or have not followed any particular ethos, might wait centuries before Kelemvor judges where they go. People who fear such a fate can pray to Asmodeus, his priests say, and in return a devil will grant a waiting soul some comfort.

This makes me infer two things: first, that the gods are kind of picky about which souls they want to join their domain (regardless of what actually happens to that soul in a deity's domain, which is a topic for a different post entirely, because the results may vary) and therefore the gods aren't just going to go with any soul that ends up in the Fugue Plane. Second, that the gods aren't exactly in a hurry to choose among wandering souls, likely because the Material Plane just keeps producing and destroying mortals, resulting in a constant flow of souls.

We see a glimpse of a god's perspective on the influx of souls when Gale confronts Mystra in the Stormshore Tabernacle (in this case, when you play him as an Origin):

Gale: You're one to talk. How many innocents were you prepared to sacrifice if I detonated the orb? Mystra: Such eddies are unexpectional. Souls arrive and depart your plane with every tide, in circumstances just and unjust. The Weave cannot be lost because we are unwilling to cause a ripple. And that is what is at stake.

She then goes on to say "With each day that passes, the elder brain threatens to become a new kind of god, its worshippers a scourge of soulless illithids." This is what's at stake. The loss of souls on the Material Plane.

The Absolute plot threatens that cycle of birth and death, of souls arriving and departing. But how, exactly, is the mind flayer plot a threat?

Well, for one, if everyone with a tadpole turns into an illithid (which doesn't have an apostolic soul, Withers is adamant about this), and then all the illithids kill all the non-illithids...who is making new babies with apostolic souls? And if there are no new fresh souls, eventually the deities will just also die out, since no one will be left to believe in them and thus their powers will diminish and eventually fade. It might take a few hundred years, but it still spells death for everyone involved.

The irony here is that it means the Dead Three gambled and lost even if their plan to ascend a Netherbrain ends with a success, such as when Tav or Durge decides to dominate the world by controlling the Netherbrain. Either the brain is destroyed and they lose, or the Netherbrain successfully completes its Grand Design and they really lose, because the only winner here after a thousand years would be the Netherbrain. Thus we have Withers taunting them in the post-epilogue scene by asking if they really thought their ploy would succeed.

Okay...so we know that mind flayers killing everyone on the planet is a bad idea because it means that apostolic souls stop arriving in the Fugue Plane. But what about mind flayers? If they don't have apostolic souls, do they have ANY soul worth eternal currency?

Remember, the only way to create more mind flayers is to tadpole a humanoid creature. Without humanoids, mind flayers can't reproduce. But when humanoids turn into mind flayers, they allegedly lose their souls. Right?

Withers says souls "vanish" when the body turns into a mind flayer. But this is vague, and thus allows for a few different theories. Perhaps souls move on to the Fugue Plane while the person-turned-mind-flayer continues existing on the Material Plane. Perhaps the soul just becomes obscured and unrecognizable by the gods. Or perhaps the soul really does go poof and is replaced by something else entirely.

So which is it? Well...first of all, let's set the record straight on mind flayer souls.

Do mind flayers have souls?

The short answer is...yes. They just don't have apostolic souls.

According to Volo's Guide to Monsters (page 80 for those looking through their copies at home):

Illithids acknowledge the existence of divine entities, but it is unusual for any but a deviant mind flayer to actively worship such a power. Since they are capable of planar travel, illithids don't view the afterlife and the Outer Planes in the mythic way that most other races do. Illithids don't believe they possess souls whose eternal fate is governed by the gods. Instead, when a mind flayer's brain is returned to the elder brain to be consumed, the creature's intelligence lives on. Only if an illithid's brain isn't retrieved after death would its consciousness be cast into oblivion.

And on page 72:

An elder brain has a perfect recollection of its race's history. Consequently, it views itself as both a refugee and a victim, forced into hiding by barbaric monsters. An elder brain also sees itself as a savior of the mind flayer race and a living memorial that preserves the memories of the mind flayers' prey. By its twisted logic, humanoids whose brains are devoured by the colony are rendered immortal, their memories preserved forever in the elder brain's labyrinthine mind. When a mind flayer grows old, becomes infirm, or is previously injured, the elder brain absorbs it—another form of immortality, as the mind flayer's mind dwells within the hive mind forever after.

So essentially, mind flayers do have a soul, but because they are a) not humanoid but are aberrations from another plane, and b) not faithful to the deities of Faerûn, their souls are not recognized by the gods. The souls might not even journey to the Fugue Plane when they die. Instead, mind flayers give up their consciousness (their memories, especially) to an elder brain to become part of its eternal collective memory.

It's worth noting that Volo's Guide to Monsters puts emphasis on memory and intelligence here, but not necessarily personality. Mind flayers and elder brains do have a kind of personality, because they experience emotions (we'll look at some conversations with the Emperor in Part 2), but their emotional range seems to be a little limited. For example, regarding elder brains:

An elder brain is arrogant, scheming, and power hungry, yet quick to flee or beg for mercy in the face of a powerful foe. It has no conception of joy, sympathy, or charity, but is well acquainted with fear, anger, and curiosity. It is an intellect utterly incapable of empathy or concern for creatures other than itself.

These limited emotions suggest there might be some element of personality here, but it's not exactly the same as a humanoid personality, which would normally be capable of a wider scope of emotional range. We'll talk a lot more about personality and how transforming into a mind flayer alters that part of one's identity (if not their actual soul) more in Part 2, but for now, just know that a mind flayer technically has all the elements usually present in a soul: an animating spirit (memories), intelligence, and personality (emotion).

When mind flayers die, their memories and intelligence are usually consumed by an elder brain, but it's unclear if the personality is too, or if the personality is destroyed. However, if they're not enthralled to an elder brain or if they die and their brain isn't retrieved to give to an elder brain...then their soul is "cast into oblivion."

Being cast into oblivion could mean anything. It could mean that their soul simply wanders around wherever it died, untethered to anything but unable to move on. Or it could mean that their soul simply ceases to exist. No one really knows what happens to it because renegade mind flayers are extremely rare. BG3 has Omeluum and the Emperor, but other than those two, official D&D lore only lists a small handful of other renegades out of millions of mind flayers over time.

So now you're probably thinking, "Well, wait, but is a mind flayer's soul the same soul that a person had before they became a mind flayer?" And the answer to that is complicated.

Let's talk about ceremorphosis

Normally a mind flayer isn't supposed to remember much of its life prior to ceremorphosis. This is partly why mind flayers eat brains, so they can literally absorb the memories of other creatures and make those memories part of the hive mind. But initially, after ceremorphosis, it seems like the the usual animating spirit (memories) of a person gets destroyed or displaced.

The tadpole grows as it devours the humanoid's brain, attaching to the victim's brain stem and becoming its new brain. Over the course of a week, the humanoid body changes form, and a new mind flayer comes into being. The emergent mind flayer often retains a few dim memories from its previous form, but these vague recollections seldom have any bearing on its new life as a brain-eating monster.

So right off the bat, a typical mind flayer loses the memories (perhaps the animating spirit) of the original host, and it's likely that it loses a lot of the initial personality as well (since it seems likely to lose some of the emotional range). Its intelligence is likely altered too, since the tadpole is literally eating brain matter. So this could lead us to believe two things.

First, that ceremorphosis utterly destroys the host's body and the host's soul likely goes to the Fugue Plane because they have basically died. Their brain has been consumed and their body transformed, so in essence they can't be themselves anymore. Instead, a new soul has taken residence inside the mind flayer body, though where this soul comes from is unclear since tadpoles probably don't have souls. The original soul, however, is free to move to the Fugue Plane and beyond.

Or, alternatively, the host's soul is transformed, shedding memories and personality to become a non-apostolic soul that aligns with an elder brain's hive mind somehow. This means that the host's apostolic soul might be destroyed because it's been changed so drastically, but there are some parts of the original soul still left (the lingering memories, for example). This means the host's original soul didn't move on, but is tethered to the mind flayer body and has been changed into something unrecognizable. When the mind flayer dies, the former apostolic-soul-turned-illithid-soul is either consumed by an elder brain or cast into oblivion.

If the first theory is correct, it seems a little odd that the BG3 companions are so concerned about losing their own souls. If it would just be the same as dying, there would still be some desire to avoid the fate of ceremorphosis, but the companions seem incredibly concerned about losing their own autonomy, as if their consciousness will be trapped inside a mind flayer body and their souls forfeit and unable to move on to the Fugue Plane. After all, Withers is in the business of plucking souls out of the Fugue Plane when we inevitably die in the game.

Specifically, Withers can take a body that has been completely turned to ash and resurrect it with True Resurrection, a spell powerful enough to completely restore a body to its former state. However, there is some assumption here that he wouldn't be able to do this with a mind flayer body, thus the push in the game for a cure.

True Resurrection You touch a creature that has been dead for no longer than 200 years and that died for any reason except old age. If the creature's soul is free and willing, the creature is restored to life with all its hit points. This spell closes all wounds, neutralizes any poison, cures all diseases, and lifts any curses affecting the creature when it died. The spell replaces damaged or missing organs and limbs. If the creature was undead, it is restored to its non-undead form. The spell can even provide a new body if the original no longer exists, in which case you must speak the creature's name. The creature then appears in an unoccupied space you choose within 10 feet of you.

In other words, if theory one is correct, and a person simply dies when they become a mind flayer, Withers should technically be able to resurrect them by pulling their soul out of the Fugue Plane and giving them a new body. You'd have a weird mind flayer clone of you running around, but you wouldn't have to worry about ceremorphosis again.

(But then again, we know the game ignores the organ-regrowing properties of True Resurrection for Karlach, too, so the game intentionally limits the capabilities of True Resurrection.)

If theory two is correct, and the lore is extremely unclear about this process if this is the case, then the companions' reactions and dialogues make a bit more sense. They all talk as though turning into a mind flayer means their soul is somehow destroyed. Mind flayers having souls is likely not common knowledge in the universe (certainly no one in the game is arguing that they have souls), so if a person's soul is transformed beyond recognition it could certainly seem like the host's soul got destroyed. Additionally, this would result in a person's consciousness being trapped inside a mind flayer body, so the loss of autonomy would be a terrifying possibility here.

Plus, we know that when a mind flayer dies, the soul they have (whether a brand new soul or an apostolic soul that has been altered) is consumed or thrown into oblivion. So if theory two is correct, there will be no eternal consciousness for you, allegedly (though there's some debate as to how much eternal consciousness you have in the Fugue Plane or the Outer Planes too...)

We don't know which of these theories is correct, and the game sort of slides between these two theories (as we'll see in Part 2). But, and I cannot stress this enough, this lore only applies to normal mind flayers.

BG3 has altered the usual mind flayer tadpoles with Netherese magic such that things get a little wonky. And beyond that, the ultimate tadpole that changes you (or Karlach, or Orpheus) into a mind flayer capable of wielding the Netherstones is a Supreme Tadpole that has been further altered by the Emperor:

The Emperor: I took this one from the nautiloid. I have been nurturing it ever since - priming it for your use. It is not dissimilar to the experience you already had with the previous one. Only this one is much more potent. All you have to do is open your mind to it. Its latent potential will do the rest.

We don't know how the Emperor has been priming this tadpole, but if it came from the nautiloid, then it is imbued with the same Netherese magic as all the other tadpoles. It's not the same as the Astral-touched tadpole (from Act 2), which has been in the Astral Prism for millennia, but it is somehow more powerful, or at least more effective in transforming you into a new kind of mind flayer, one that can think independently of the elder brain.

So now you (or Orpheus, or Karlach) are a new special kind of mind flayer. Does that change anything?

Yes. In fact, it seems to change quite a lot. But this post is already super long, so you'll have to check out Part 2 to see what I mean.

~*~*~

You made it to the end! Gold stars!!!

✨⭐️🌟⭐️✨

I'll link part 2 soon~

Tagging those who wanted an update! @galesdevoteewife @stuffforthestash

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #mind flayer #the emperor #bg3 lore #bg3 meta #bg3 deep dive #deep dive #long post #super long post #yall the days I put into this #who let me do this to myself

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thedeviltohisangel · 19 hours

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All The Things I Did (Interlude): My Little Loves

a/n: Mother's Day, 1950. a super long, fluffy fic about Mother's Day! there is also quite a bit of angst as this takes place about one month before John would ship off to fight in the Korean War. I really hope you all enjoy this little bit of a deeper look at the twins/Lillian's personalities and Cass/John as parents and the absolute chaos that their house always is but they fucking love it because they fucking love each other. chat soon my lovies xoxo

The gentle tickles of John’s lips pressing to her back caused a smile to spread across her face. She kept her eyes closed as he kissed every inch of her skin that was exposed by the dip in the back of her nightgown.

“I know you’re awake, baby. Can see the goosebumps when I kiss you.”

“Keep going. I didn’t tell you to stop.” He smiled against her shoulder and reached for the hand resting against her rounded belly and twisting their fingers together. “Waking me up like this is exactly how we came to celebrate this day three years ago.”

“Happy Mother’s Day, my love. Last one as a mama of three, huh?” Cass hummed and wiggled her back further into his chest. He kissed behind her ear and buried his nose in her hair, relishing in the simple feeling of her in his arms. It would never get old for him. The quiet moments between them and their growing family were his favorite. There was no moniker he loved more than husband and father.

“If you had it your way I would always be pregnant.”

“Can’t argue that. I love filling you up with my babies.” As if to illustrate his point, he found the hem of her silkwear at the top of her thighs and lifted it to expose her belly to him fully. She was two months along with the next addition to their family. They were both already so eager to have a little baby again. “And how can you blame me? We make the prettiest little ones.”

“I have to agree. How do you make it so they all have your eyes?” She rolled over to face him and look at the baby blues in question.

“I don’t do it on purpose. Just a side effect of my-” There was a gentle knock on the door. “My bets on Penny,” he whispered.

“Fine. I’ll take Lilly.”

“Mommy? I come in?” It was Gale. They were both wrong.

“Yes, my little dove.” Knocking on the door to Mommy and Daddy’s room was one of the most critical things they had taught the twins. It had only taken one time for them to walk in on a moment their innocent eyes should never be exposed to for John to use his stern dad voice. The tone was so rarely used that their toddler ears had listened very closely and had obeyed ever since.

“Happy Mama Day!” He came scurrying into their room, his blanket trailing behind him, and Cass caught him in her arms as he jumped onto the bed.

“Careful, buddy,” John exclaimed as his wife grunted and fell against the pillow with the impact of her son.

“Sorry!” A few days ago, John had reminded the kids that the day where they celebrate their mother was coming up. Gale had been particularly excited, giving John a stack of drawings that he wanted to gift her and asking if they could have pancakes for breakfast because they were her favorite.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked as her hand stroked through his curls. He nodded from where his head was tucked under her chin.

“Hungry,” he offered simply. All of a sudden, John had two sets of eyes on him. “Daddy, we have cakes?”

“We did say that was mommy’s favorite.” He stroked the pillow soft cheek of his son and Cass smiled as she recognized the look in his eyes. One of pure adoration. One that he only ever looked upon her and their children with. “Go get your sisters so they can help.”

“Okay. Love you mama. Love you papa.” Gale reached for his dad first, kissing John’s puckered lips, before he tightened his little arms around Cass’ neck and accepted her request for a kiss as well. He shimmied out of the bed and was off in a scamper down the hall.

“When are we going to tell them?” she whispered with sadness as she watched her son. As she felt her husband’s hand tuck her hair behind her ear.

“I want today to be one of happiness. For you and for them.” He thinks the twins would be able to understand he was leaving for a while. That they would be able to feel the ache in their chest at not seeing their father for months. Maybe longer. Lillian had just turned two. Her grasp of the world around was still taking shape. But there were medical appointments and chauvinistic doctors.

John knew his wife was strong enough, their love for each other was more than strong enough, to survive his deployment to Korea. He just didn’t know how he was going to say goodbye to her or the little one growing inside of her. He was at his strongest in the presence of his family.

“I want every day to be happy for us. But especially for them.” Cass had promised her children they would never not be with their family. That nothing would ever separate them and that is exactly what their mother and father had fought for. And now it was all unraveling. “Look at my first baby coming to see me because he knows I’m sad.” Butter came padding into their room with a sock monkey in his mouth.

“No, he just knows I’m about to get out of bed and wants to take my spot.” Butter whined as if to ask if he could hurry up and do just that. They heard two sets of feet quickly patter down the stairs and smiled as their littlest one rubbed her eyes in their doorway. The stairs were a bit of a daunting task for her so she knew to ask for help. “Hi, ladybug.” John was quick to swing his legs onto the floor and pad over to his princess.

“Does it look like she was scratching at her ear again?” Cass welcomed Butter onto the bed with a scratch to the top of his head. At her last doctor’s appointment, they had poked and prodded as they tried to find a comfortable hearing aid for her little ear. It had left her with even more discomfort than she normally walked around with and it broke Cass’ soul she couldn’t fix it.

“It doesn’t look as red as it did yesterday.” John kissed the ear in question as he rested his daughter on his hip. She smiled and gripped the collar of his shirt tighter. “Should we go make sure Mommy has a breakfast that’s actually edible?” Cass melted as she watched him rub his nose against their daughter’s. Lillian was so attached to her parents, only ever at complete peace in their arms and seemingly feeling a little lost in navigating this loud and crazy world. The most rewarding gift she could have given her children was this man as their father.

“We can’t miss mass either, John!” she called as he disappeared towards the sounds of giggling children and bowls clanging together. “What are the chances they don’t make my entire kitchen look like a warzone?” she asked Butter as she turned to kiss his nose. He looked at her as if to say zero.

----

“Penny, I love your coloring so much and it is so beautiful, but can we keep it on the paper and off the table?” Cass normally put paper or an old tablecloth under their paper when they were coloring to avoid this very issue but the thought hadn’t crossed his mind until it was too late.

“Daddy, sing please!” Penelope asked with a smile as she looked up at John.

“Please!” Gale emphasized.

“Sing? What should we sing?” He was balancing Lily on his hip, her little hands occupied with the piece of fruit she was sucking on and refusing to eat, while grabbing pancake ingredients with one hand and monitoring the bacon crackling on the stovetop.

“Twinkle star,” she offered as she got down from her chair and moved to the counter by her dad.

“You want to start the song, lovey?” Penny wrapped her arms around John’s leg and hugged tightly as he struggled to measure the flour with two of his limbs occupied by cuddly babies.

“Twinkle twinkle star,” she began singing with her toddler lisp glossing over some of the consonants in the words.

“How I wonder what you are,” John continued as his son padded over to join in on use Dad as a jungle gym time, taking the empty leg for himself to match his twin. “Up above the world so high…” He looked down as the twins mumbled along to the song.

“Like a star in the sky,” they sang. He smiled at their new lyrics. Diamond was a hard word for them to pronounce. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star.”

“How I wonder what you are!” He bopped his finger against Lilly’s nose as the song came to a close. “Excellent job, my loves.”

“We help?” Gale asked as he was already moving his little stool so it was flush to the counter.

“Stir very carefully,” John said as he offered the wooden spoon to his son. He switched the hip Lilly was resting on and dropped a kiss to the top of Gale’s head, checking in on Penny who was happy to stay wrapped around his leg like a monkey. “Should we add some chocolate?”

“I love chocolate!” Penelope answered as she stood to try and peek at what her brother was doing.

“Penny, careful,” Gale cautioned as he furrowed his brow with concentration at the task his father had given him. John smiled at the interaction as he offered Penelope a little bowl of just chocolate chips.

“Don’t tell your mother,” his finger against his lips as if to seal in the secret.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she giggled as she scurried back to the table with her little treat. Lillian squeaked with delight as Butter came loping down the stairs to join in on the chaos and get closer to the smell of bacon. He sniffed at her feet as she laughed and reached to pet him.

“There you go, ladybug.” John set her down and she was off towards the living room with her best friend in tow in search for his favorite basket of toys. “How we looking, Gale?”

“All done!” John gave it a quick stir to make sure everything was incorporated and gave his son an impressed nod when it looked perfect.

“Mommy’s going to love these,” he whispered as the little one smiled.

“I love mommy.”

“She loves you, too,” John slid the pan of bacon to the back of the stove and let Gale drop a pad of butter into a new pan, “and you know I love you a lot, right?”

“This much?” Gale giggled as he spread his arms out wide.

“This much,” John answered with a smile as he extended his own arms. He brought his arms around his son’s little body and squeezed as tightly as he could, kissing the side of his head. There was a happy screech from the living room, distinctly the sound of Lillian, that had both Egan boys turning their heads. “You want to check on your sister?” The twins were just as protective over their little sister as their parents were. John and Cass had done their best to explain to them she was a little different than the little siblings their friends have or even than they were as babies. That she needed a little extra love and attention sometimes. Cass had let the thoughts eat her alive that she wouldn’t be able to love the twins as much as they deserved if she was so focused on Lillian. John had assured her that her heart was big enough for the task.

“I be back!” John watched with a smile as his son ran off into the living room and felt his chest swell at the little humans he and his wife had created and were raising to be kind, loving and giving. It was these exact moments that had spurned his heart back to life on the back of the carriage in the German forest or when his stomach was cavernous and his nose felt like it was going to fall off in Stalag. He was on this earth to be a husband to his wife and a father to his children.

“Daddy, more chocolate?” Penelope presented him an empty bowl with the evidence of her treat streaked across her cheeks and even a little on the pink of her pajamas.

“Little lamb, how did you get a tiny bowl of chocolate chips all over you like this?” he asked as he crouched down to her height.

“More, daddy? Please?”

“I’ll put some in your pancakes, how about that?”

“Smile face?” John had been known to try and turn his kids food into a smiley face whenever he had the chance. Most notably was Sunday morning pancakes with chocolate chips.

“Yes, baby, daddy’ll make your pancake into a smiley face.” Satisfied with his answer, she too ran off towards the room that held a fraction of her toys, her dog and her siblings. He thought about calling back for her so he could wipe her face and hide the evidence from his wife but he could already hear giggling and thought it best to leave it be.

Of course his three kids were an absolute handful, he doesn’t know how their nanny did this by herself everyday or how Cass managed at night before he got home, but he had never felt as fulfilled as he did in the moments with them. When he had gotten the orders to Korea, it was missing these moments that made his heart stop. Missing Gale and Penelope’s musicals they put on with their stuffed animals most nights. Missing guidance from doctors on how to help Lillian still hit milestones and reach her full potential in this life. Missing the sight of Cass’ smile and the way she mumbled in her sleep and how she fiddled with her wedding band when she was reading.

The United States Air Force was a bitch of a mistress.

----

John had every intention of bringing her breakfast in bed and snuggling as a family under the covers. But Gale had spilled the orange juice on his way up the stairs and Butter had stolen a strip of bacon from the plate while he was trying to clean up and Penny had already picked chocolate chips out of two pancakes before he realized it might have been too noble of an intention.

“What have we got going on down here?”

“Mommy!” It was a chorus of loving children as Cass appeared at the top of the stairs like an angel. She tiptoed around a defeated John and welcomed all three of them in for a hug as she reached them.

“Did my little loves help Daddy make breakfast?” The twins nodded and Lillian crawled into her lap, her ear dropping to her mother’s chest and smiling at the feeling of her heartbeat instantly. “Let’s go set the table so we can enjoy it.”

“I’ll meet you guys over there,” John sighed as he was picking up ripped pieces of pancake from the stairs.

Just like the goddess he always knew she was, Cass had the kids cleaning up coloring supplies, setting placemats and settling into their wooden booster seats all while they hummed Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star again. He watched silently as she wet a napkin and wiped Penelope’s giggling face and helped Gale cut his breakfast into smaller pieces and took extra care to make sure Lillian was comfortable with her miniature fork. “I’m sorry, baby, we were supposed to be waiting on you, not the other way around.”

“I’d rather dote on the little doves that made me a mother today.” She fell against him with ease, his lips against hers quickly. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“You haven’t even eaten it yet. It could be disgusting.”

“The lack of Egan jabbering coming from the table due to their eating of it leads me to believe it can’t be that bad.” Cass pressed onto her toes to kiss John the way she always did when they got to talking about their babies. Like she wanted another one promptly. It was how the current Egan in her belly got there.

“Since when is their jabbering from me? You’re the one who sweet talks people for a living.” He fisted her nightgown as he tried to restrain himself against the efforts her tongue was making with his. “And so successfully I might add, baby. So good at being my little Spook.”

“John Clarence Egan,” she squeezed his cheeks into his chin with one hand, “stop with that bedroom voice. We have no time-”

“Oh, Cass, I don’t need that much time,” he sniped back with that grin that normally made her knees fall open.

“Mommy, Daddy, sit!” Penelope pointed at the empty chairs they normally sat in, her face covered in even more chocolate than it was before.

“What do we say when we ask someone for something?”

“Please!” she answered. Cass kissed the top of her head and sat down across from her as John carried over two plates.

“Thank you, baby,” she kissed his arm as it reached in front of her.

“Mama!” Cass smiled as Lillian called for her attention and reached out her arms. It wasn’t very often she tried to speak and it made her heart soar whenever she did. Even more so when she used her voice to call for her parents.

“Yes, my sweet girl, I’m right here.” She brought her into her lap and swallowed back tears as John looked at them with a sad smile. “I’ll always be right here. I promise.” Cass buried her nose in Lillian's hair and breathed deeply as John held her hand on top of the table.

“Daddy, too?” Gale asked quietly as he paused his eating.

“I’m always, always, going to do everything I can to be with you.” He squeezed his wife’s hand tighter.

“Okay, Daddy!” Satisfied with the answer, and not understanding the true sentiment behind John’s words, Gale was focused on his fork and making it sound like a plane.

Cass did her best to smile the rest of breakfast. She snuck some bacon under the table for Butter. Bounced Lilly on her knee while she laughed. Felt her sides hurt with joy as John mimed eating the chocolate off of Penelope’s cheeks. It was exactly the kind of family she had always wanted to build. One of pure love and happiness. One that didn’t feel like it needed to be molded in some kind of high society pressure. One where her kids would always know she loved them. Where they would always know their parents loved each other.

“Alright, monkeys, let’s go upstairs so we can get changed for church.” The twins groaned like teenagers trapped in toddler bodies, Penelope dramatically going limp in John’s lap while Gale dropped his forehead to the table. “Hey, we said today was Mommy’s day right? So we agreed to do whatever Mommy wanted?”

“No church, Daddy.” To them it meant stockings and sitting quietly and there were the Carter kids that they despised seeing.

“For me?” Cass asked with a pout. It worked on their father. Maybe it would work on them. Penny looked to her dad.

“Do it for Mama,” he whispered like it was a secret just between them. Penelope relented with a nod and after a kiss to the top of her head from John was off his lap and holding her brother’s hand to scurry up the stairs.

“You want to help them while I clean all this up?” He was already standing from the table and gathering plates.

“I’m going to find a way to get us to Japan.” John froze and turned back to look at his wife, her focus on Lillian. “I’m not letting anything separate this family. Not even another war.” He set the plates in the sink and moved to crouch at her side, tucking her hair behind her ear and noticed the way she was shaking with the strength it took to not break down.

“Cass, baby, nothing ever will separate us. Even if I am physically far away, you know my heart is always with you five.”

“Last time…last time…” Lilly squeaked as her mother pressed her into her chest. Cass so rarely thought about Germany. Used all her compartmentalization skills to keep the years without John shoved away. Her time at the camp and their journey to make it out of there tucked away even further. She had always been adamant that misfortune only befell them when they were apart. When the distance allowed the malevolent spirits to find their way in.

“Hey, ladybug, come here.” John gently pried Cass’ hands from around their daughter and set her on the ground. “Butter!” The hound came trotting when he heard his name. He whined at the sight of Cass and the state she was in.

“Mama?” Lillian tilted her head and reached back for her mother with curiosity. Understanding why John had called him, Butter distracted her with a lick to her cheeks and she was giggling at the dog instantly. He gently nudged her until she was toddling out of the kitchen and he followed after her.

“Talk to me, Spook. Tell me what’s rattling around that gorgeous mind.” John cupped her cheek so he could look her in the eyes.

“I had the worst two years of my life because I wasn’t with you. I was hopeless and lifeless and had no purpose without you, John. I’m so afraid that when you leave, I’ll go right back to that place and I have those three I have to be brave for and this little one and oh, God, they’re going to come while you’re gone and I can’t-” Her head was tucked under his chin in an instant as the sobs racked through her body.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. I’ve got you.” Cass had gotten so good at tucking her emotions into a little box that she kept in a dark and tiny corner of her heart. It had been years since the memories inspired a breakdown such as this. “If you and the kids moving to Japan is going to fix that ache, then we’ll figure it out. We’ll find a way. Just like we always do.”

“I don’t want this to weigh on you. Just give me a minute and I’ll be fine.” She pushed off his chest and stood on shaky legs.

“Cass…” he reached for her but she didn’t grab his hand. He recognized the glazed look to her eyes. It was the same she had the previous few times the ghosts of the past had come to haunt her. It was Central Intelligence Agency Cassandra Egan taking the reins. Urging the version of her that felt too hard and too deeply to let go of the wheel and let the cold as stone version take control. “Cass, baby, don’t do this. Don’t run from your emotions. Don’t shut me out.”

“Mommy! I need help!” Penelope’s voice called from the top of the stairs.

“I’ll be right there, little love!” She turned to look at John who looked like he was going to stay exactly where he was until she crawled back in his lap and worked through this with him. “I’m not running and I’m not shutting you out. Now’s just not the right time.”

“When will be the right time?” He wasn’t going to let her say the things he wanted to hear and get away with no following through.

“Tonight? You, me and our pillows?” It was where their most important conversations seemed to be had. The place where they could relax and breathe and touch each other and whisper softly and kiss each other through whatever problems arose. They had yet to find a problem they couldn’t kiss their way through.

“I’ll be there.”

----

Gale and Penelope held their mother’s hand tightly as they walked out of the church, anxiously awaiting the lollipop their father normally handed to them once they hit the sidewalk if they had behaved. Penelope had done her best to not plug her ears at the sound of the organ and Gale had only stuck his tongue out at Jeffery Carter once and his mother hadn’t even noticed.

“Alright. Good little lambs lollipop time.” John dropped Lillian to her feet and squatted to be at the same height of his cheering children. “One for each of you.”

“Thank you, Daddy!” the twins said in unison.

“Give me a kiss.” They giggled as they each pressed their sticky lips to his cheeks.

“Oh, Cass! It’s so good to see you! Happy Mother’s Day!” Grace Carter. Self-proclaimed Queen of Great Falls, Virginia.

“Grace, it’s good to see you.” Cass greeted her politely. “Happy Mother’s Day yourself.” She was acutely aware of her twins staring daggers at the two Carter boys. She gathered them against her legs and smoothed her hand over their hair.

“Lieutenant Colonel Egan, you always look dashing in your Sunday best.” Cass gathered her breath before Grace became acquainted with her right hook.

“Thank you, ma’am. How are you doing, Adam?” he reached to shake his hand firmly before settling Lillian back on his hip and kissing his wife on the side of the head.

“I’m good, John, nice to see you.” For all the women that fawned over John Egan, much to the nearly violent chagrin of his wife, the husbands were never worried. No one in Great Falls or Charleston or Europe had ever seen him look at a woman that wasn’t his wife.

It incensed the local gossipers that he only ever seemed to be a devoted, attentive husband and father. He had been seen taking the twins to a park by himself, the horror. Seen picking them up from preschool instead of the nanny and while his wife was at work, the scandal. And the absolute most incredibly inappropriate display of Lieutenant Colonel John Egan handling a temper tantrum on the sidewalk of Walker Street with soft words and an understanding tone. Not a scream or a yell or a rough hand to avoid the prying eyes. Ghastly.

“Well, we best get going.” Cass smiled in the way that John knew meant she was moments from kicking someone’s ass, her hands pivoting the twins away and towards the car.

“Cass, will we be seeing you at the school’s bake sale Wednesday afternoon?”

“No, Grace. I’ll be at work.” That was another thing the local gossips loved to make a topic of conversation. The fact that Mrs. Cassandra Egan worked. That she wasn’t at every bake sale or auction but somehow always managed when it was a recital or art show. They were annoyed she had priorities and boundaries and enforced them and had a partner who seemed to do everything with her in perfect tandem. They never worked against each other, always rowing in the same direction.

“Such a shame you always have to work. Especially in your condition. You really should be resting.” John felt the air turn cold and tightened his grip around his daughter, his other arm wrapping around his wife’s waist and resting on top of their precious bump.

“And what condition might that be? The blessing of another child?” He knew where her mind was going. The acrid comments from doctors that somehow Cass was to blame for Lillian’s deafness. That she hadn’t taken enough care of herself during her pregnancy or rode her horse one too many times or that having twins had ruined her birth canal and damaged their daughter during birth. “I could only hope to be in this condition more often than not, Grace. I mean, you said it yourself. My husband looks so dashing in his Sunday best.”

----

A long afternoon of lollipops and the sprinkler in the backyard and babies falling asleep around the outdoor fire with chocolate on their cheeks, turned into a slow night of baths and bedtime stories and lullabies as Cass tucked the blanket around Gale’s tiny frame.

“Mommy?” he asked groggily as she was just about to close the door.

“Yes, little love?” Cass padded back to his bedside and gently knelt down to look at his precious face, cheek squished against his pillow and stuffed animal tucked under his chin.

“I love you.”

“I love you so much, my baby. So very, very much.” She stroked his cheek gently and kissed his forehead.

“Stay together forever,” he mumbled as his eyes grew heavy and he drifted into dream land. Cass held her breath as she watched peace settle over him. Peace that their family would remain intact and together. Forever.

“I’ll do everything in my power, baby, I promise.” She gently pushed his curls off his forehead and pressed a kiss to the skin there, sealing in her promise.

Cass closed the door as gently as she could and rested her own forehead against the wood to steady her breathing for a moment. For someone who prided themselves in keeping their emotions at bay, she was having a hard time breathing against the waves crashing against her. She knew she was stronger than this. Knew that her relationship with her husband and his bond with their kids was capable of withstanding any test that was thrown at them. The point was that Cass thought she had passed enough tests for the universe to give her a break. That she had earned a modicum of normalcy in waking up next to her husband every morning and both of them raising their babies together every day. What more did they want from her in order to give her that? Cass wasn’t sure she had much left to give them.

“Gale fall asleep before you even made it out the door?” John asked as he was arranging the pillows the way he knew his wife liked. “I didn’t even have to read to little ladybug, she practically fell asleep before I even got her pajamas on her.”

“For all the sugar he consumed today, yes, he fell right asleep. Penny is probably still awake making flashlight puppets.” Ever since John had used the flashlight and his hand to act out a scene from her favorite bedtime story, Penelope had been working to perfect her craft. More than once she had been caught by her parents in the middle of the night.

“Just the fact that we created humans amazes me but the fact that they have imaginations and dreams and personalities…learning who they are is never going to get old to me,” John mused. He walked around the bed and tried to bring Cass into his arms but she was already crawling onto the bed and sliding herself under the blankets. “You’re not going to let me hold you, baby?” He looked dejected as he stood there with his arms open like he was still expecting her to fall into them.

“I need that big brain of yours to help me work through some problems, Lieutenant Colonel.” She patted his pillow next to her for emphasis. He smiled wickedly and leaned down to kiss her, crawling over her body until she was horizontal across the bed. “I love when you look at me like that. Like you can read me and understand without me having to verbalize it to you.”

“Because I can, Spook,” he hummed. His lips dropped to hers once, twice, three times before his eyes were right back on hers. “You scare me when you shut down like you did earlier, Cass. You have to let yourself feel things in order to work through them.”

“I feel things when I’m with you. When I’m with our kids. It’s the feeling of not being with you and us all not being together that I want to avoid.” His finger drifted down her cheek and left a pleasant tingle in its wake.

“It’s not forever, baby. With those three and one on the way and Butter, you will be so busy you won’t even realize I’m gone.” She sat up and held John’s face between his hands.

“Please tell me you don’t think that’s true. There will always be a hole in my chest whenever you aren’t near.”

“I know. I’m just trying to find the right words to say to soothe your ache, Cass.” She leaned down and kiss him gently. Conveying all of her love, or as much as her human form could summon, letting herself melt under his gaze.

“There’s a position in Tokyo. Mary told me about it a couple of weeks ago and I’ve been holding back on asking for it because of our little ones. All four of them.” Her hands fell to her pregnant belly and John rested his cheek on top of them. “I’m scared to fly with them that long and I’m scared of my choices fucking with another one of our-”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Cass. You did nothing wrong when it comes to Lillian. You carried her and provided for her and were put here on this earth to be exactly the mother that you are to her.” John wasn’t ashamed at the level of anger he had shown the doctors that had tried to pin this on his wife. Wasn’t ashamed that he had almost throttled them through the exam room door. She smiled through her tears and combed her fingers through his curls.

“See? I need you.”

“We need each other.” She nodded in agreement.

“And we’ll always have each other. We’ll always make sure of it.”

As she kissed John in the warmth of the lamplight, the ache in her chest was soothed but not solved. She had a plan percolating in her mind on how to do so but fears that were acting as barriers towards diving in. It was uncharted water for her. Unsure of her choices and calculating the ripple of implications they would have on her children instead of just herself or an operation. It was the first time there may be a conflict between her desires as a wife and her desires as a mother. Ultimately, she would be the only one able to reconcile them.

But there were a few things she would always know for certain. Firstly, that John Egan loved her and she loved him. Second, that she loved every inch of all of her children and always would, for all time. Third, that she had fought tooth and nail for the life that she currently had and nothing would ever be worth losing it for.

Lastly, Cassandra Ann Egan knew that she deserved happiness. And fulfillment. And peace. She had fought a war to find the stable ground she was sitting on and supposed she would fight another one to maintain it. To protect it. To preserve her little corner of the world that darkness was not allowed to touch.

They’d have to get through her first. And she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

#masters of the air #john egan fanfiction #masters of the air fanfiction #mota #john egan x oc #john egan #john egan x reader #cass and bucky #callum turner #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #mota fanfic #callum turner fanfiction #callum turner fanfic

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thatslytherinbitch54 · 22 hours

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Why do u ship drarry? (no hate btw just curious)

Thanks for the ask! I actually have a whole list of why lol, but for the sake of your sanity, I’ll just summarize it:

1: Enemies-to-lovers fucking hits hard. Forbidden love is also a nice trope.

2: They fight like an old married couple. (please get the reference.)

3: They’re both very invested in each other's life. For better or for worse, both Harry and Draco are often really concerned about what the other one is doing. They both take turns being really involved in one another’s business.

4: Draco wants to prove himself and he always craves Harry’s attention. His jealousy is shown consciously but yet subconsciously, it’s the need for Harry’s attention. Draco’s jealousy of Harry makes him obsessed. And well, Harry is canonically obsessed with Draco.

5: S e x u a l. T e n s i o n What? Who said that? (Harry and Draco are rivals, and rivalry is hot. The heat between them can be taken as sexual tension and can even lead to it.)

6: Subtext: “‘typical’ said Harry darkly. ‘Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.’” - We never want to make a fool of ourselves in front of our crushes.

“Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls. ‘everyone thinks he’s so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick-‘ ‘You have told me this at least a dozen times already.’ Said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son.” -I mean this speaks for itself.

"’Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?’" said a voice Harry had no trouble recognizing. He straightened, and came face-to-face with Draco Malfoy.” - No trouble recognizing? You don’t say…

‘Besides, if it makes you feel any better, Malfoy is staying over for the holidays.’ - yes i know the context but still

“Malfoy stood on one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. He caught Harry’s eyes and smirked.” - I’m sorry, this is so funny to me, why does Harry describe his arch nemesis like this? Lol

“Harry lay curled uncomfortably under the cloak to ensure that every inch of him remained hidden, and watched Pansy the sleek blond hair off Malfoy’s forehead, smirking as she did so, as though anyone would have loved to have been in her place.” - Harry would have loved to be in her place.

“His whole body revealed with his legs still curled absurdly into the cramped kneeling position. He couldn’t move a muscle; he could only gaze up at Malfoy, who smiled broadly.” - This without context 😭

“You’re getting a bit obsessed with Malfoy, Harry, I mean thinking of missing a match just to follow him…” - I mean…

“Harry, however, had never been less interested in quidditch; he was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy.” - An actual quote from the book.

“Harry did not sleep well that night. He lay awake for what felt like hours, wondering how Malfoy was using the Room of Requirements… Harry's mind worked feverishly and his dreams, when he finally fell asleep, were broken and disturbed by images of Malfoy.” - This is getting out of hand…

“‘what?’ Said Harry wheeling around to stare at her ‘He’s ill? What’s wrong with him?’” - Sounds like he cares lol

“Malfoy was screaming and holding Harry so tightly that It hurt.” - 💀💀💀

So to wrap this up: They’re rich, they’re hot, and they’re gay, so what’s not to love? So there you have it, a couple of reasons why I ship Drarry!

Thanks for the ask btw! ILYSM!!! 😘😘😘❤️❤️❤️

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rainee-da · 18 hours

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You Rest Your Head On His Lap - 🪞/ 🎪 / 🍮 / 🍾 / 💧 / 💎

Work has been abusing wearing me out and I didn't have too much time to open social media lately so this one will be shorter than the previous one. Honestly can I just be reincarnated as a seal? please please please please-

Make sure to brush your teeth, hope you enjoy! 🍀

CHARACTER ❥ Doom / Famin / Epidem / Delisaster / Domina Blowelive / Cell War GENRE ❥ Fluff w/ slight Angst for Domina, maybe PG13? WARNING ❥ Spoilers!!!! and maybe might be a bit OOC, depending on how you interpreted the character.

D O O M 🪞

It was later in the afternoon. He just finished his training and was resting up on the nearby bench at the training grounds before you came and suddenly plopped down on his lap.

His whole body tensed up slightly at the sudden contact before relaxing back as he realized that it was just you.

"Tired, my dear? has your day been rough?" he said with a soothing voice as he ran his hand on your hair, a soft smile forming on his lips.

He learned his whole life to predict other people's movements using all his senses, but you never failed to surprise him with your antics.

And it never fails to lighten his day, to bring sunshine to his world that is devoid of pictures.

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon chatting with each other, with his hand brushing through your locks idly.

As you talk about your day, he listened quietly. Take note of your shift in tone and the quiet thumping of your heart.

He didn't mind doing this for eternity, with you.

F A M I N 🎪

He was in a bad mood as he sulked on the sofa, teeth gritting and eyes twitching. One more flick to his nerves and his place is going to be a bloodbath.

Knowing so, his aides understandably decided to keep their distance.

Not you tho, because you were somehow brave enough to stride to his place with a book in hand and plopped your head on his lap.

"... What do you think you're doing?" he said with a strained voice, punctuating every word. You simply answered him with a shrug as you started reading your book.

His aide is looking from the distance, mortified. One of them is making preparations for a quick mass funeral, just in case.

They instantly passed out in fear as their boss started to move, thinking the massacre was going to happen. They missed the fact that Famin had actually moved to hug you, not to massacre you. Or anybody.

His rage already evaporated into thin air, seeing you on his lap.

Get ready to be in his lap for hours lol. He won't let you go now.

E P I D E M 🍮

"... And the texture is all wrong! It's a blasphemy I assure you. Pudding is supposed to be a soft, silky cuisine and the shop can't even differentiate that with a freakin jelly! Honestly-"

You lay on his lap as you listen to him go on his tangent. Your hand slowly caresses his thighs to soothe him down.

Being his lover, you're used to this kind of temper tantrum it could be worse after all.

In fact, you prefer this to his scientific tangent. You can barely understand the other one after all.

But since he has been going on for more than an hour, you're understandably getting tired and you can feel yourself getting sleepy as your eyes fluttering and closing.

Noticing that you no longer saying anything, he stopped and looked down to check your face.

His face softens, seeing you sleeping on his lap. His body finally eases down and he caresses your cheek gently. His mind is in a state of tranquility.

Though you’re gonna wake up with a bite mark on your cheek lol. It’s just that soft after all.

D E L I S A S T E R 🍾

Everything about it is embarrassing. You're embarrassed, his aide pities you, and his family gives you a strange look, the only one who is not embarrassed is Delisaster.

How could you not be? It's a big, fancy banquet being held by Innocent Zero with so many nobles present. And here you are; laying on one of his son's lap.

And you can't escape either, because his hand is gripping your side tightly while his other hand is sipping some red wine, ready to tickle the hell out of you if you made any attempt to escape.

Too bad he's big into PDA too. More than once did he lowered his head to peck your nose or make out with your lips. In front of everyone.

"Do you want some?" He offers you casually as if it didn't hit him yet that he's being cringy as hell, and he's embarrassing you.

He lets out a hearty laugh every time you pout and whine about being embarrassed, clearly finding it to be amusing.

"Why so shy? you're my bae! N' best bet I'll show it to everyone! Gotta show them to whom you belong, after all~"

Rest in peace, you poor soul...

D O M I N A B L O W E L I V E 💧

It's nearing curfew time. You opened the door of his dorm slowly, making the light from outside permeate through the dark room.

You can see the hunched shadow on the bed jolted in surprise and the light from outside highlighting his face shadow.

"Go away," Domina stated coldly as he lowered his head, and you managed to catch a glimpse of the tear stain on his cheeks.

You didn't say anything. But knowing him, you decided to go against his words and walked to his figure before locking the door.

You startled him as you plopped your head on his lap, burying your face in his stomach while your hand rubbed his lower back gently.

This simple action successfully breaking the dam in the pink-haired man's eye as he started sobbing his heart out.

He started blabbering out his thoughts while his shaky hands hugged your head tightly, sharing the insecurities and the fear he held inside that had been tormenting his soul.

"Please don't go..." he said with a broken voice, as he caressed your face, "I love you... You're all I have... please, promise me to never leave me... Please..."

Both of you ended up sleeping while cuddling together, content smile formed on his sleeping face.

C E L L W A R 💎

"Stop it, I have to go," he whines, trying his best to push you, who is currently nuzzling your face on his stomach, off of his lap, "I have to meet Master, he'll be furious if I'm late!"

You quipped to him that the appointed meeting is still an hour ahead, and he groans in frustration, unable to refute your words.

He knows that the meeting is still an hour away, and it only took him a quarter of an hour to reach the location. Meaning that he had plenty of hours for himself.

But he just can't help to work hard. He wants to please his Master!

"You're such a brat..." he grumbled as his hand moved to pull off the thorn crown on his head, and he leaned back to relax on the bed.

Your sheepish smiles earned you a soft chuckle from him. He stares at you with eyes full of meaning as his hand strokes your hair gently.

He wants you to find someone better, but he can't think of a life without you by his side. For him, you're his oasis. Anything you did seems to bring his dead heart back to life.

'I guess it's okay to relax once in a while... for you.'

I also wrote another prompt for all of them previously, which the latest one being this one. If you happen to like this one, you might also like the other one! Maybe, I mean, I dunno...

Anyway, thank you for reading! 🍀

#mashle #mashle: magic and muscles #mashle x reader #mashle headcanons #mashle imagines #doom x reader #famin x reader #epidem x reader #delisaster x reader #domina blowelive x reader #cell war x reader #doom #famin #epidem #delisaster #domina blowelive #cell war

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