#and Every Time wars will look at him Like That
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Hey ! I just had an idea for your mystic animals au- imagine, the reader go to war without saying it to Malleus, Lilia and Idia, and the next time they saw them it's when they are at the hospital or still fighting, and they are badly injured (like, really badly injured. Like they will die if they aren't heal)
Sorry for the bad english, it's not my first language.
Have a great day/night !
Malleus doesn’t say a word.
He’s unusually calm, running a slow hand across your wounds. Gently caressing your hand with his thumb, humming to you softly. A tune you don’t recognise, yet it is soothing all the same. Like a familiar lullaby you heard once, a long, long time ago. A gentle tune that somehow makes your eyes weary, your tired body giving way to the darkness of slumber, slipping into the night.
Malleus holds your hand until you fall asleep, head dropping back onto your pillow. Before he slips his arms under your slumbering form, lifting you up. Cradling you close to his chest, sighing deeply into your hair. Nuzzling into you, sighing into that ever so familiar warmth.
With a flick of his wrist, all the tubes connected to you drop, needles clattering onto the ground. Pardon Malleus’ distrust, but since humans haven’t achieved the longevity of his kind, he doesn’t have too much faith in the inventions of mankind.
You won’t die here. He won’t allow it. He doesn’t want to be alone. Not again.
Perhaps there’s someone in the Diasonmia clan who’s accomplished in healing magic. Or there might be some arcane way to restore your life in the old texts. Oh, there was that movie both of you watched once. Something about the people being transferred to the future in a chemically induced sleep. There might be some truth in that story… and Malleus is adept at putting you to sleep.
A luxurious bed shouldn’t be too hard to find. He’ll lay you down in the sacred halls of Diasonmia, and he’ll create a bed for you amidst the thorns. Looking at you asleep soundly like this, your face utterly relaxed… it’s almost as if everything was normal, hm?
Like one of those nights you’ve called for him, your sleep plagued with nightmares. You’ve often asked for his company, those lonely nights. Holding his hand until you drift off into the land of dreams. Now, he’ll stay right by your side until you wake up. If you wake up… no. You must awaken.
No matter how badly you’re injured, Malleus refuses to accept this outcome, and he’ll struggle against it for all that he’s worth.
Until the moment you’re gone, he’ll never truly accept it. Maybe he doesn’t, even then. You are his Master, after all.
He’ll believe in you, until his last breath.
Lilia’s lying right next to you.
The moment he sees your battered body on that hospital bed, his gaze is overflowing with concern. Watching fluids of some sort flow into your arms, a steady mechanical beat beeping shrilly every second. Beeping along to the pace of your heart rate, following every rise and fall of your chest. Lilia’s devastated, to say the least. Yet he’s skilled enough not to let it show. Instead, he gently coaxes you aside, sliding under the covers beside you.
Honestly, why would you go to battle all on your lonesome? Only a fool would do that… a brave fool, nonetheless. Lilia pokes your nose softly, sighing softly. His warm breath wafting against your lips. Master, did you really think of him as a fragile being? As old as he constantly says he is, he’s still rather capable of razing down a few battlefields in your name.
Although you wouldn’t have accepted that sort of victory. You were always a honourable one, insisting that your victories should be seized by your own two hands and your effort. Lilia admired that part of you, truly.
You were a flame, burning away with determination, so bright that sometimes he couldn’t look at you directly. Perhaps that was why your touch was so warm. It comforted him, did you know that? Your presence, your voice, your touch… it meant everything to Lilia.
Shifting a little closer, Lilia’s arms snake around your torso, holding you gently. He’s a little hesitant at first, but unless you object, he’s going to embrace you. Coaxing your back towards the curve of his chest, gently slipping his legs around yours. Lilia’s head rests at your neck, every one of his breaths tickling the nape of your neck.
He squeezes you affectionately, timing each one of his hugs to your heartbeat. It beat feebly against his chest, one beat at the time. A steady, soft rhythm thumping against his very skin. His pulse slowed, as if to match yours. Lilia holds you as tightly as he dared, holding his breath whenever you went still, then exhaling as you took another breath.
For that moment, you weren’t quite dead yet. Thank the Great Seven, Lilia was allowed to hold your slumbering form for another second more. Master, you’re really a piece of work.
You wouldn’t allow him to follow you to the battlefield. And now, you’re threatening to slip away from the land of the living?
Please master, don’t be as cruel as to go somewhere Lilia cannot follow.
Idia clutches at your hands.
It’s almost desperate, the way he holds them. The way his own fingers tremble and shake, the way his jagged nails dig into your flesh, carving red crescents into your skin. He’ll let up the very moment you wince in pain, muttering apology after apology under his breath.
Even then, his voice quakes, lips trembling. Idia’s brows are frowned, his mind racing a million miles per second. Thinking about every possible scenario that could happen, each one growing more and more morbid after the next. Idia can’t help it. When he’s greeted by a problem in life, he’s immediately calculating the odds, going through every possible scenario to clear this stage without expanding too much effort.
Yet he can’t exactly do that now. You see, it’s you. You’re his master, his player two…. You’re his, as much as he is yours. Idia doesn’t want to lose another person so dear to his heart, not again.
Idia’s staying by your side in the hospital, night and day. Never leaving your side for a moment, his hand intertwined with yours. Constantly tugging your blanket just a few inches to the right, to the left. He has a corner pinched in his other hand, twisting and turning it over and over again in his fingers. If only to have something he can control in this messed up situation.
Why didn’t you summon him? Why? Was he not good enough for you? Did he disappoint you somehow? Were you just so disgusted with him to the point you couldn’t even stand his face? Idia spirals into negativity, his brain collapsing under the sheer depressive pressure he’s putting into it. Even if the truth is otherwise, Idia’s beating himself up about it.
He blames you, honestly. Only a total idiot goes into battle without their familiars. He hates that you left him behind without so much as a word. He hates that you got hurt and he could do nothing about it. He hates how you look like now, lying down, beaten black and blue.
But try as he did, Idia just can’t find it in himself to hate you.
His fingers caressing the back of your palm softly, Idia stares into your face again. The face he’s seen contorted into a million emotions. Your stupidly smug smirk when you beat him in a game after a thousand tries, the way your eyebrows frowned in annoyance when he plays a little prank on you, all of these remain as deeply etched in his memory as it was the very days he saw these expressions.
But his favourite one was your smile. If he closed his eyes, it’ll float up into his mind’s eye in the highest resolution a memory could be. A soft, radiant thing, filled with pure joy. A gentle light, embracing him, guiding him out of the pitch-black abyss of his overwhelming thoughts.
Idia squeezes your hand once more, staring silently at your face.
Praying that you’ll smile at him once more.
#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#Idia shroud#Idia shroud x reader#Idia#Idia x reader#Lilia vanrouge#Lilia vanrouge x reader#Lilia x reader#Lilia#malleus draconia#malleus draconia x reader#malleus x reader#malleus#mystic au#lucky potion🔷
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The Hall Of Faces
Diavolo x reader x Barbatos
WC: 2.9k
~ After a trip through the palace’s art gallery, you find that a picture of Diavolo may need to be updated.
Warnings: Mention of eating humans, moments with both Barbatos and Diavolo showing their love of the reader.
No matter how many times you find yourself visiting the castle, you can't help but think it is one of the most beautiful places you have ever seen.
Despite being thousands of years old, its gleaming marble flooring looks brand new, and the historic art and statues line the halls with museum-level prestige. Every time you walk the long, carpeted hallways you always seem to find something new to captivate you.
On this visit, you find yourself following Barbatos down a grand window-lit hallway. Although he tries to keep his excitement at your visit to himself, you notice there is a joyful spring in his step as he leads you. "Thank you for joining the young master and I for tea this afternoon. I prepared a wonderful selection for us on the west balcony that should be to your liking."
"Of course Barbatos, thank you for the invitation," you say watching as his deep green eyes shimmer under the moonlight. "I don't believe I have been in this wing of the Castle yet."
"Then it is my pleasure to be the first to guide you," he replies with a smile. He slows his pace, allowing you to walk beside him. The two of you walk in content silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence, until you notice a strange-looking vase resting on an elegant pedestal. It seems to be composed of two types of clay: one looks like melted pearls that seem to absorb the light of the moon, and the other is a matte ebony material. The contrast between the light and dark is so captivating you stop to look at it.
Barbatos, sensing your distraction, chuckles behind you, "I thought that would catch your eye," he muses. "Would you like to know the significance of this piece?"
"I would," you nod. It takes so much self-restraint to not trace your fingers along the priceless art, but somehow, you manage to resist the urge not to touch it.
"This vase contains two different types of clay, one from the Celestial Realm and one from one of the depths of the Devildom. Usually, these substances repel from one another, but thanks to a bit of water from the human world, they are able to come together and create something beautiful."
"That's amazing," you breathe, looking at this art, this manifestation of what can happen when all three realms work together.
"I knew you'd appreciate its beauty," he smiles. "Shall we continue?"
You nod as he holds out his arm to escort you down the hallway.
The palace is a labyrinth, and after turning right, then left, and then right again, you find yourself staring down a long hallway littered with portraits on the walls.
"What is this place?" you ask, passing the painted eyes of regal-looking demons that seem to follow your movements.
"This is the hall of faces," Barbatos answers. "It is a place to honor those who have made a difference in the Devildom, past royalty, war heroes, and other notable figures."
"I see." your eyes rest on a figure with broad shoulders and familiar-looking eyes. "Is that?"
Barbatos' face falls slightly, "Yes, that is his majesty the King, the young master's father."
"Diavolo's father," you repeat, letting your eyes wander from the darkened painting to the one next to it. One of the Prince himself. But instead of the tender warmth in the Prince's features, you find him looking stern and cold. "That doesn't look like him," you murmur. "I hate that someday people will walk by this portrait and not see him as the ruler he is."
"I agree," Barbatos says. Although it is a subtle shift, you detect a hint of disdain in his voice as he pulls his gaze from the painting. "The artist who painted this portrait, and many others, is well renowned but does not know or care of the true light of the Young Masters' smile."
"He sounds like a jerk," you grumble, stepping away from the painting.
Barbatos laughs; the sound is light but pleasant. "That certainly is one of the many words to describe the Artist. Come, let me escort you to the balcony. I fear the Young Master will become jealous if I steal you for the entirety of your visit today."
You take his outstretched arm and allow the Butler to guide you away from the Hall of Faces and to the eagerly awaited tea party. But as you get farther and farther away from the portrait, you cannot rid yourself of the effect Diavolo's portrait had on you.
~
The balcony air is warm and comforting as you raise a hand-painted teacup to your lips. It's warm, rose-scented steam tickling your nose with it's tantalizing fragrance,
"Mc, is something troubling you?" The Prince asks gently from his seat next to you. He places his large hand on top of the one you have resting on the table's edge. "You seem troubled today."
You place your teacup back onto its saucer on the table and look at his handsome face fondly. "It's nothing, just lost in thought."
Barbatos lets out an amused chuckle as he comes up behind you to top off your cup. His gloved hand rests gently on your shoulder. "Mc and I walked through the Hall of Faces today, Young Master."
Diavolo's smile falls slightly as he shifts nervously in his seat. "Oh. So you saw my portrait?" There is an embarrassment in his gaze that makes you wonder if looking at royal portraits of the past is the Devildom equivalent of looking through your friends' old middle school yearbooks.
You nod hesitantly. "I did."
"And what did you think of it?" he asks, his golden gaze coaxing the truth out of you.
"It didn't look like you," you admit. "I mean, it was you in the picture, but it was weird seeing you look so serious and unhappy.."
"So you think I am unserious?" he smiles amusedly.
"No. I just really like your smile," you admit, shyly grabbing a lemon cake from the three-tiered stands.
"Well then, I suppose it's about time for me to update my portrait," he says, looking over to his Butler. "Barbatos, can you please fit that into our schedule?"
"Absolutely, young master. How about midday tomorrow?" The Butler hums thoughtfully. He knows the Prince's schedule by heart.
"Wonderful, and does that work for you Mc?"
"Me?" you ask with a mouthful of cake; a bit of the glaze drips down your chin as you look at the two demons in bewilderment.
"Of course," the Prince laughs, handing you a handkerchief to wipe your face. "You are the one responsible for this appointment, so It is only fair that you join us for an afternoon."
He says it lightheartedly so you know that if you truly had something going on, or if you did not want to go. You would not have to. But in truth, sitting for a royal portrait probably isn't something that happens very often; your curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself happily along with the Prince.
Both demons, seeing your acceptance, look absolutely elated. Diavolo flashes you a sincere grin as he claps his hands together. "Wonderful, then we look forward to spending the afternoon with you."
~
The next day, you find yourself sitting in the Parlor at the castle. Diabolo is finishing up a meeting and Barbatos is greeting the Artist at the doors. Apparently this Demon is older than the Butler himself, having been the one responsible for painting most of the portraits in the Hall of Faces. The idea of meeting such an ancient being makes your stomach bubble up with nerves as you wonder what they are like.
Looking around the Parlor, you notice that the room looks a bit different than normal; the furniture has been tastefully rearranged to make room for a lavish-looking armchair and an art station across from it. Instead of the typical moonlight streaming in through the large windows, some kind of enchantment on the glass fills the room with something close to sunlight.
When you close your eyes, you can almost feel the warmth on your face.
You hear a soft chuckle from across the room as Barabtos comes in carrying a large, worn case with little streaks and splatters of color on its surface. "The artist prefers to work in the light." he smiles, setting down what must be painting supplies.
"Can't say I mind it," you smile as the demon strides across the room, around your chair, and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. This little act of affection is reserved for the moments when the two of you can be alone.
"Then I'll make sure to use this spell more often." he smiles, placing his gloved hand on your shoulder. You find yourself getting lost in the warmth of his emerald gaze just as the parlor doors burst open.
A short demon, swimming in a bright smock, takes quick, impatient steps into the room. His skin is the color of dried dandelion petals, and his tail is tipped like a paintbrush. "Canvazu," Barbatos greets, stepping between you and the Demon politely. "It is a pleasure having you join us today."
"Yes, yes, you said it before; now, where is my subject?" he says with a wave of his hand.
"the young master will be here momentarily," The Butler says. In the meantime, Lord Diavolo would like to invite you to enjoy some refreshments."
"Diavolo?" The Demon, you now know as Cavazu, questions, "Haven't I painted that one before?"
"Indeed you have," Barbatos answers calmly, but you know him well enough to know that the Artist's disrespectful question irritates him greatly. "But as he plans to take the Devildom into a new era, he wishes to have an updated photo."
"I see." The Artist says shortly as his eyes take on a slightly red hue. Curiously, you lean forward to get a closer look. His pupils look like splatters of paint and seem to change color depending on his mood. Your movement catches his eye, and he notices your presence for the first time since he has arrived.
"A live one, eh?" he says, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "This Prince of yours has some questionable taste. I prefer my humans slow-cooked."
You shift back in your seat as the hair on the back of your neck stands up straight. Do you know that eating humans has been outlawed and the Devildom for quite some time? Maybe this guy is so old he missed the memo?
Barbatos clears his throat and takes a step toward the Demon, who is looking at you like their next meal. "Clearly, you are mistaken; this is Mc. A distinguished guest and friend of the Devildom."
The Artist opens his mouth to surely make another snarky comment, but he's interrupted by the doors parting and Diablo's timely arrival.
He looks just as handsome as ever as he greeted you with a smile, "Sorry I'm late, Canvazu. Thank you for taking the time to meet us today."
The Demon, who is becoming one of your least favorite beings in the three realms by the second, looks the prints up and down. "oh, I remember you. You look the exact same as the last time I saw you. So why do I have to immortalize your face again?"
Your jaw drops, how could he say this to the ruler of Hell?
You look at the Prince, but to your surprise, he only laughs. The wonderful sound fills the room and calms your nerves. "I suppose I wish for the Devildom to see the true me~"
"Actually, I don't care." the Artist says in an annoyed tone. "Go sit over there so we can begin."
Diavolo is unphased by the Demon's rude behavior but shoots a quick look at you and Barbatos, whose smile is murderous, to not intervene. If this Artist is as well respected as he appears to be, he certainly can get away with this attitude toward nobility.
"Is there anything else you need before you start?" The Butler asks, clearly wanting to get this whole exchange over with.
"Yeah, Silence." the Demon sneers, his voice low enough for Diavolo to not hear from his chair across the room. He dips his long- brush-shaped tail onto his palette. And painting the backdrop.
You see Barbato's jaw clench, and you gently reach out and give his hand a little squeeze to calm him down. He relaxes and looks at you warmly. "I apologize for my rudeness, Mc. You have been here for quite some time, and I haven't given you any refreshments. May I fetch something for you?"
"That would be lovely; thank you," you say, happy to give him a distraction. He nods and goes to make you something in the kitchen, leaving you in the room with the Artist and the Prince.
It kind of sounds like the start of a corny joke, and you smile to yourself, thinking up all the different ways you can set up the punchline.
You watch in amazement as Canvazu works, his tail flicking back and forth; his paintings are so lifelike, so realistic it looks like you can step onto the canvas and still be in the same room.
Diavolo sits perfectly still in his seat, but despite his best efforts to hide it, he looks extremely bored. He meets your gaze and gives you a little wave.
You stick your tongue out at him teasingly in response, and he beams back at you; at the change in his subject's face, Canvazu's head snaps toward you, and he glares into the very depths of your soul. "You, human. You are distracting my subject; stop that at once! Do you realize how privileged you are to be sitting in on one of my sessions?." Embarrassment boils beneath your skin and you open your mouth to apologize, but Diavolo stops you standing abruptly.
"There is no need for that; Mc is doing exactly what they're supposed to do, making me smile.
"As the artist, I will capture your image as I see fit." Cavazu objects. "I cannot immortalize your face looking so undignified with a silly grin."
You sit up from your chair, "there is nothing wrong with his smile," you say defensively, your patience finally running out . "will you really not paint him if he doesn't look miserable in the chair?"
"Absolutely not." The Demon says, throwing his pallet on the floor. Paint splatter everywhere. "Watch your tongue, Human. You are nothing but an insignificant pest. You have no right to speak to me that way."
Immediately, Diavolo is at your side, looking furious. "I believe we are at an impasse then, Cavazu. I tolerated your disrespect as a courtesy for your continued service of the Devildom, but you have crossed the line. As of now, you will no longer be contracted by the crown."
Canvazu looks absolutely frazzled, for once having to actually deal with the consequences of his actions. "You cannot be serious, My lord. I have served the Devildom for years and you choose this, your pet? Over me?"
"A thousand times over." Diavolo declares with certainty; he looks down at you and takes your hand, pressing it to his lips. "And this Human may one day rule the Devildom at my side. They mean more to me than anything. I refuse to let you rob the Devildom of its smile any longer." Diavolo says, his authority clear in his voice.
"Barbatos, if you please." The Prince says, addressing the Butler, who you haven't noticed come back into the room.
"At once, young master." The Butler says, and with a snap of his fingers, the Artist disappears from the room, leaving the three of you alone in the Parlor. "I must say, kicking that oaf out has been one of the highlights of my existence, Your Majesty. Thank you for that opportunity."
The Butler sent the two of you into a fit of laughter and, despite his prim and proper nature, lets out a genuine smile in response.
"Are you alright, Mc?" The Prince asks softly, the anger on his features disappearing as he looks at you.
"I'm alright; I'm sorry your artist was such a jerk, though." You reply. "Is there another artist you can use to paint your portrait?"
He shakes his head, "this situation has made me realize that I do not want to have my portrait painted anymore."
"But I thought you wanted a new painting to replace the one in the Hall of Faces," you say in surprise.
He smiles, "I do, but I was wondering if you would do me the honor of sitting with me in my portrait."
"Is that really okay?" you ask in bewilderment.
"Of course it is," Barbatos says simply. "You have done more than enough to earn your place up on the wall."
"I-I don't know what to say."
"How about yes?" The Prince asks, his golden gaze overflowing with hopeful affection.
You smile and nod eagerly, your heart feeling tender with love. "Yes, I will."
"Wonderful," he replies eagerly, looking like an excited golden retriever. "Barbatos, would you do me the honor of painting our portrait?"
"I would be delighted to," he replies, striding over to where the Artist once stood. "I have not practiced my oil paintings in quite some time, but I believe I can capture your feelings appropriately."
"So. Shall we begin?" The Prince smiles leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.
Tagging: @enchantedforest-network, @starbbyy
#obey me!#obey me nightbringer#x reader#obey me#obey me x reader#diavolo#diavolo x reader#obey me diavolo#barbatos#obey me barbatos#barbatos x reader
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OUUUUUUU PRINCESS DO WE GET THE SWEATY sexy NIGHTMARE SCENE IN THIS AU??????
꒰ა︵︵⊹︵︵ꨄ︎︵︵⊹︵︵૮꒱
how could i forget about it? now i don’t think jj would ever turn to the dark side the way anakin does, but i think he struggles in himself and not knowing if he’s truly ‘good’ to his core the way john b is — someone he sees as the ‘perfect’ jedi. because of these feelings, he often acts out — doing something canon!jj often resorts to, acting troublesome because it’s what everyone expects of him already (the jedi council, his peers etc). however, in more vulnerable moments — he suffers from deep fear that his lack in being a ‘good’ jedi will result in losing those he cares for.
thinking specifically about jedi knight bodyguard jj staying in your room in your palace on naboo, sharing the bed with you because you’d been too frightened to sleep alone — worried about being taken in the night after rumours had surfaced regarding you being a target, hence being assigned a jedi knight.
you’d bonded over the passing weeks, showing jj your way of life and discussing politics over dinner each night. he was brash, reckless, bordering on crass with the way he spoke and the way his eyes lingered, all things you expected a jedi not to be— but you can’t say you hated it. tensions had bubbled, and despite this crossing every rule, jj had started to develop feelings for you.
now, beside you in bed whilst you dream peacefully — he pants, shirtless and sweaty as his dreams plague him, visions of you being taken and slaughtered before his very eyes, all because he let his own issues obstruct what is meant to be a clear jedi mind. when he snaps himself out of his nightmare, sitting up abruptly in bed breathing loudly and heavily, you stir— rolling over and blinking yourself awake.
“jj?” you croak, but he can’t seem to hear you over the blood pumping through his ears. he pushes the bed covers off him, sitting off the side of the bed with his elbows leaning on his knees, head hung. you repeat his name, and this time he jumps a little, craning his head to look at you.
“oh uh— yeah i’m good… i’m good, you go back t’sleep, sunshine.” he rasps, eyes flickering away from yours because he can’t stand the adorable furrow of concern in your brow. he was meant to be the strong one here.
rejecting this suggestion, you crawl up the bed in your nightgown to sit at his side, fingers hesitating before grazing his bare sweaty back. his skin glows beneath the moonlight coming through your large windows. it was a real shame jedi weren’t allowed to form attachment.
“did you have a night terror?” you hum, eyes trailing over his side profile. he continues to stare downwards, tonguing at his cheek as if he was too ashamed to act solemnly before he glances your way again, pulling a hand through matted blonde hair.
“it happens. just gotta… catch my breath n’stuff.” he dismisses and you sigh out your nose.
“lay back down,”
“i just gotta—”
“with me.”
his mouth turns downwards when he peers over at you, eyeing you in thought. doing so would be indulging, not at all obstructing the inevitable forming of attachment he was experiencing. but after all, jedi aside — he was just a man. he couldn’t help but crave a soft hand that hadn’t been coarsened by war.
“right… f’sure.” he nods quietly before awkwardly easing back down on the bed, propped up by pillows. he clears his throat, lips pressed together as you sit, simply watching him for a moment before gently laying yourself against his chest, pulling the silk blanket up over you both.
“now sleep, jedi. i won’t tell anyone.” he feels your smile push your cheek up against his chest and he feels himself relaxing against the bed. it had been a while since he’d felt this content, and it was terrifying him.
a moment or so passes, and he feels himself tense up a little — almost like he wanted to sit up. he’d had plenty of one night stands in the lower rim of coruscant. sure it was frowned upon but atleast he knew that wasn’t quite forbidden. this however was different, intimate, he didn’t know how to act.
“look i don’t know if i can just go back to sleep right now. that was pretty intense n’i don’t wanna wake you up if i just suddenly freak out again, you know? maybe it’s best if i just…uh… what’cha doing?” he trails off when your fingers slide down his toned abdomen and begin to tug ever so lightly at the waistband of his black sleep pants.
“i know you’re a jedi but you’re still a man. isn’t there some way i can… relax you?” you tilt your head upwards, blinking up at him sleepily with doe eyes that could only belong to a princess. as you do so, your gentle hand slides over his length which jumps beneath your palm through the fabric before slotting your fingers into his waistband.
“m-mmmaker okay— uh, are you sure this is— y’know i don’t wanna—”
“c’mon, jj… let me help you? even jedi’s need a little relief sometimes. like i said…” he quickly begins to harden as you play with him beneath his pants, pressing your tits through your night gown against his side. he’s paralysed in pleasure, only able to stare down at you with wide blue eyes. “i wont tell a soul.”
꒰ა︵︵⊹︵︵ꨄ︎︵︵⊹︵︵૮꒱
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"Werewolf Price being hit with pheromones and they expect him to go feral or be evil but really he just herds everyone up and bumps heads with Ghost and grooms Gaz and fucks Graves until he can’t take it anymore safely outside of the sights of everyone else"
I love it, I want it, I expect it. Please!!! I've been good I SWEAR!! Never sent a ask so fast!
Well i got to write it now, i got you <3
Price suffered from lycanthropy. Some people preferred to say they had it or even blessed with it. But no. He suffered from it. It was a rather big weakness to have in war, even if his advanced senses were sometimes helpful.
Pheromones. The smoke bombs were laced with them. His rational thoughts were slowly slipping away, leaving just bare instincts.
Ghost grabbed him. He could tell by the smell. The ease he had in lifting him up. His grip felt very tight though, with Price able to feel each and every fingertip digging deep into his skin. It was confusing why his pack member would hurt him, but it must be for a good reason.
Price went limp to allow Ghost to carry him easier. He could hear Ghost telling him he was being good as he moved him away from everything, holding him so tight Price was sure if he tried to yank away he'd either hurt himself or Ghost.
Everything was so loud. Every sound amplified and echoed. The sights. Different smells mixed together until he felt nauseous.
The floor is cold where he's being pressed against it. Ghost's hands were warm where they're against his face and Price tries and fails to jerk up off the floor. He's growling, trying to get someone to understand the floor is too cold for him to lay on. Everything is loud and everything is terrible and and and
Gaz pulls him to sit down, Price's body between his legs. He puts both hands firmly on his shoulders and Price relaxes. It doesn't occur to him that Gaz did this in case he needed to trap him. One of his pack members was there to reassure him everything was alright.
Price had no recollection on how they got to the safe house. He only knew that his sense had calmed enough to no longer overstimulate him, though he was no more rational than he had been when first hit. He pushed the three of them around until he got them all herded together in one room. Soap laughed a little and got a gentle headbutt for it.
Price relaxes once he had all of them, trying to groom Gaz after a minute. He was more like an actual wolf with his dynamics. There was his mate (not there) and his wards. He was not an 'alpha', just a pack leader. And his pack was very important to him. It was incomplete right now.
He focused on trying to get Gaz presentable. The rather tight grip on him relaxed so he could focus on keeping them in the room and safe.
Ghost got smart and made a place on the floor for them to be able to stay with their bedrolls.
Price relaxed and laid on the floor next to them, watching them.
Time ticks away strangely. He can tell he should go to sleep. But this is a Shadow safehouse they're using. The smell around him makes the ache of not having everyone together more apparent. His nose keeps twitching.
There's movement at the door and he bows up immediately, growling. He quickly gets to it and waits, ready to pounce.
Graves.
Price relaxed and grabbed him.
"John?" He sounded surprised, but didn't fight him. Price forced him away from the others who were all sleeping anyway.
"I'm glad to know you're safe. Was a bit worried when they said you were hit with something." Graves looked up and smiled before pausing when he saw how Price's eyes looked. "John?"
Price moved closer, his feet lightly kicking at Grave's so he'd keep moving back. Without him truly realizing it, Price had herded Graves into a different room. The lights were still off so Graves couldn't see very well. But Price could.
"Oh." Graves purred. "I get it. You been missing me?"
Price panted, walking forward. He buried his face in his mate's neck and took a deep breath. God he smells so good. His tongue flicked out to lick over his skin and Graves groaned.
Graves was smart enough to work himself out of his gear before Price tore it. He let Price pick him up and toss him on the bed before crawling on top of him.
This was perfect. Price nuzzled at his jugular and started to nip at him, hands running down his body.
Graves ran his fingers through Price's hair, feeling his ears. "Cute. Planning to rut against me, Captain?"
Price grabbed him and flipped him on to his stomach. He opened his pants and pressed his cock against Graves’s thighs, humming in pleasure at the warmth.
“John, you can’t. I’m not exactly prepared here, Soldier.” Graves straightened up. Well, tried to. Price pinned him back down and started to nose at his thighs. “John, I’m serious. You haven’t ev-“ He choked when Price fully pressed his face against him and licked at his hole. It wasn’t what Price wanted, but the visions of Graves being hurt were enough to get him to act right. His tongue dove into him and Graves made a soft groaning noise as he rocked back.
“Should’ve known you’d be smart enough for this. Even all feral, still taking care of your pack right?”
Price couldn’t decipher the tone used. It felt possibly teasing, but it didn’t matter. His mate said he was smart and took care of his pack. The tail he kept tucked between his legs started to wag happily.
Graves panted softly. “Alright. That’s enough. You deserve it.”
Price moved fast, getting on top of him and pinning him down. His cock was so hard it hurt but he needed more. Needed to be buried inside him. He pushed in nice and slow and Graves moaned into the pillows.
“Good boy. You make me feel so good.”
Price wagged his tail harder and started to thrust into him. He braced his hands above Grave's head and enjoyed his mate thoroughly.
Graves tried to stay quiet, pressing his face into the pillows and arching his back. His hole was so tight and willing. Squeezing around him every time he bottomed out.
Well, almost bottomed out.
His knot pressed against his hole with every thrust. He stared at it. The way it pressed right against Graves's rim, begging to be let in. Slowly, he started to grind against him with each thrust, trying to get Graves to take it.
"John, it won't fit." Graves moaned, eyes fluttering shut. He was still arching his back though and it only encouraged John to keep trying. His cock was pressing so tight against him. Carving through him. He put his thumb against his rim and pressed against him so his knot would slowly begin to slide him. When he got a very sweet moan instead of Graves telling him to stop, he kept going. His knot was a little smaller than a fist and it began to slide deeper and deeper in.
The widest part was about to go when Graves began to cry out. "Fuck, Price, darling, I don't think it's going to fit." He grabbed his arms and trembled, body clenching and squeezing around him so tight. "It's not... Fuck..." Tears ran down his face as he mumbled uselessly into his pillows. Drool mixed with the tears running down his face as Price finally finally got it all the way in.
Price wagged his tail happily and thrust in. His knot would push in a little deeper and then catch on Graves's rim when he pulled back, keeping them tied together as Price mated with him.
Graves dug his nails into Price's arm as he came on to the sheets. His legs twitched and shook as his orgasm tore through him. He leaned his head against Price's shoulder and moaned sweetly.
Price moved Graves so he was laying flat on the bed instead of on his hands and knees. He didn't stop or even falter but the changed angle made it feel even tighter and let his knot push just a little deeper into him.
Graves scrambled at the sheets and clawed at the edges. Struggling for some hand hold. He felt his cock start to fill with blood again as Price tried to make up for the weeks of not having him.
"John, john, john, john." He chanted only to be quieted when Price kissed him. Their liplock only encouraged him to thrust in faster.
Price pressed in tight and came inside him. "Breed you. Make you take it."
Graves nodded, smiling softly. He'd indulge him his fantasies. Especially when his poor lover was still so far gone.
Price laid on him, kissing his pretty face. "Love. Love."
"i see you can say words now. Come on, pull out."
Price shoved in deeper, grinding against Graves's prostate. He growled his refusal.
Graves had trouble thinking as the pleasure moved through him. "Price, fuck, alright. I'll stay underneath you, darling."
Price relaxed but kept abusing Graves's prostate. He ignored his pleas for mercy as he cuddled him, hips rocking away. He only stopped when he managed to drag another orgasm out of Graves.
#cod#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#Phillip graves#Price x Graves#Graves x Price#Captain John Price
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“𝓪 𝓰𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵’𝓼 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹𝓮𝓻”
pairing: cooper howard/the ghoul x fem!reader
word count: 1k
summary: you’d proven to cooper that you were a tough young thing, a vault dweller with a bit of edge—and a thing for mean-mannered ghouls. you were quick to indulge in being his plaything.
warnings: mdni! smut, dom!cooper, sub!reader, rough, degrading, withholding/edging, cooper is mean i’m not sorry!
notes: these are getting too good ya’ll hehe, i hope you like it! this scene was inspired by @ghoulphile and their amazing cooper writings! please go check out their blog! 🧡
when you first met cooper howard you had been doused in confusion, why the hell were you attracted to this… thing? not a human, but too handsome and sentient to be labelled as lowly as a ‘creature’. he couldn’t be wrangled into the likes of mutated animals, but you hadn’t met a ghoul before, so you didn’t know what to make of him. nor could you understand the way you’d grown slick between the thighs by only looking at him.
fascination struck when he settled striking eyes on you—soon forcing you along to seek out the information you’d gained through your years as a vault dweller.
and it’s not like you fit anywhere else anyway, even your vault allowed you to make way for the surface without an attempt to hold you back from your curiosity— you were stuck with nothing. not even a bottle of water to your name. so, if it meant having to suck up to a bounty hunting ghoul and beg for your life to stay afloat, then you could manage. you hadn’t any ounce of shame or pride, you were a prisoner to the wastelands.
a lover to a damned, 200-year ghoul.
your face was shoved against the sandy floorboards of an old, battered saloon—destroyed and flimsy. one harsh rad storm and it would collapse into a corpse of a building that once held a proud number of guests before the war.
“cooper, fuck—“ you groaned, pain mixed with pleasure as your cunt burned.
the ghoul had stripped you completely, your vault jumpsuit tossed behind the broken bar, boots across the room and pip boy a few inches from your face. he left your naked body exposed to the cold night air, easy for him to ravage and indulge.
this was a constant repetition in your life now, when cooper was having a stressful day he took it out on you. the first time was near-frightening, thinking that he might end up snapping you in half while fucking you with his revolver shoved into your mouth like a deathly, make-shift gag.
you loved it—it was fucking disgusting, and you craved it like a lowly whore, a term of endearment that came so lovingly from the ghoul.
“quiet down,” he hissed, gloved hand landing harshly against your ass so a loud smack echoed through the dilapidated building, “i’ll shove your panties in your mouth if you keep this up, whore.”
his cock was buried deep into your pussy, swollen and aching around his hardened length that pushed against the ring of your cervix. the fleshy muscle shooting pain through your hips and thighs with each thrust, uncaring if it was painful. large hands massaged the globes of your ass, covered in reddened marks and bruises that would make sitting down hard—it was rare you had that privilege, though. cooper had made sure you two were always on the move.
“maybe i want that, cowboy,” you giggled sloppily, fucked so dumb you could hardly think as you looked over your shoulder at the ghoul, his hazel eyes piercing into yours just under the brim of his hat. you hated that he kept himself mostly clothed during these rendezvous.
cooper groaned, eyes narrowing as his left hand kept your wrists pinned against your back—face rubbing raw against the floor every time his cock slid through your wet walls. he’d been the biggest you’d ever taken, not like you had much experience.
“you love talkin’ with that filthy, cocksucking mouth of yours, don’t you?” cooper groaned, hands tightening around your wrists as his hips snapped sharply against your ass.
to make sure your needs were taken care of, you bit hard onto your bottom lip to muffle any sounds that may escape your throat. it was difficult when his cock stretched you thin, rubbing raw inside you as tears gathered in your eyes and all you wanted to do was scream his name until your voice cracked and the dry, dusty air stung your throat. you clenched tight around his cock, hardly able to keep yourself up on your knees, and he could feel how close you were to collapsing.
“not yet, darlin’,” cooper mumbled, his free hand latching to your hip and pulling you back to your knees when you’d nearly collapsed. then, the same hand slipped around your hips, so his bare fingers rubbed at your swollen clit that had been neglected.
“coop—“ you whimpered, eyes daring to shut tight as he pounded into you mercilessly, barely hanging onto reality as you had begun to see stars while your eyes rolled back.
he fed off your soft mewls of pleasure as you tried so hard to keep quiet, a smirk tainting his lips as he watched with excited eyes and a newfound sense of vigor.
“you gonna’ cum on my cock, lil’ helper?” he whispered, leaning forward so his clothed chest pressed against your back and locked wrists, “say it and i’ll think about lettin’ you,” he huffed, voice coarse as his warm breath tickled the shell of your ear and his finger pulled away from your clit—pulling you away from the edge you’d nearly fell over.
“i’m gonna’ cum on your cock,” you slurred—whining desperately for more, “can i, cooper? please, i’ve been good,” you pleaded, forcing your eyes to focus so you could look at him. you’d been fighting off the coil of heat tightening in your lower gut, waiting so patiently for your lover to say yes like the darling love you were.
you bit back a gurgled moan, eyes shutting tight as he allowed a few, long seconds to pass before his finger rubbed tight, fast circles on the sensitive bud, “go on then,” he breathed low, lips parted as he waited for your release.
all it took was for you to relax your body, then the pleasure soared through you like an explosive. cooper pulled himself upright and let go of your wrists so you could cover your mouth with your delicate fingers—moaning a saliva-filled mess into your hand while you came. every thrust sent your head swirling, sending your body into flames as his radiated body took one final snap of his hips before he spilled deep inside and felt the stress of the day vanish into thin air.
you were certainly this ghoul’s helper.
#cooper howard#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul#the ghoul x reader#walton goggins#fallout fic#cooper howard fic#fallout prime fic#wordsbyspatial
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I wanna share some sleep related LU head canons :)
Sky isn’t a napper. He doesn’t nap much because he always sleep very deeply, it’s hard to wake him up. He also is very slow to wake under normal circumstances, the stress of being on an adventure being the only thing to get him up and moving quickly.
Four is a huge napper, and he loves sleeping. He doesn’t nap as much as he would like to, because this adventure is a lot more stressful than his other ones. He also has the absolute worst bedhead, but he became very good at managing it over the years. Also, if the bed he’s in isn’t comfy enough, he’ll go to sleep with a big ol frown on his face.
Wild barely sleeps, at all. He just doesn’t really get sleepy. Sure he gets tired, exhausted even, but sleepy? Nah. After 100 years of being sleeping beauty, he had more than enough sleep for his lifetime. He only really sleeps when the Chain sleeps because he thinks that they’ll think he’s weird if he’s just running around all night. And he’ll also sleep if he’s hurt, but only if it’s in a very comfy bed.
Wars is a very light sleeper, product of the war. He also wakes up hours earlier than he wants to, so he just lays down until it’s time to get up(totally not me projecting). He has eye bags upon eye bags, and he’s very good at covering them up. He also rarely has bed hair, he wakes up and his hair is nearly perfect almost 100% of the time.
That’s all for now lol
I LOVE THESE
I so agree with Wars just laying in bed awake. That man does not sleep well unless he had a breakdown and crashed, then he’ll be absolutely OUT for a good few hours. Wild just sleeping because he doesn’t want the others to think he’s weird is SO him, if he could have it his way I bet he’d be climbin the trees at 4 am. FOUR IS A BIGGER NAPPER FOR REAL, I know he curls up on rainy days by windows and just crashes. Sky to me takes naps only when he’s so exhausted he can’t stay awake, but he’s definitely a big sleeper and normally on good days doesn’t need to take naps.
If I may add for the others:
Legend sleeps like he’s dead. Yknow how bunnies just crash and look dead? He does that. He absolutely crashes and good luck waking him up when that happens. It’s not an every night thing, but it does happen
Twilight will cuddle up with his wolf pelt if none of the others will sleep near him. He can’t sleep without it, but if he has it he’ll be able to sleep all the way through the night without waking up.
Time wakes up like every two hours and has to get up and walk around before he can go back to bed. He HAS to check on things, and he’s always the first one physically up (Warriors wakes up first but he pretends to be asleep until he hears Time getting up for the day For Real)
Wind has so much energy he struggles to fall asleep and he has to run around sometimes before bedtime or he can’t sleep. He’ll say he doesn’t want a nap because he’s ‘not a child’, but if other people are taking naps he’ll join them because sometimes hes a bit eepy and a good nap will fix him
Hyrule naps so deeply he wakes up like how you wake up from an after school nap. He has no idea where he is, his hair is a mess, there are sticks in it somehow, his pants are rolled up to his knees, and he feels like he’s been dropped through space and time. He can also fall asleep on ANY surface
#jes talks#jes ask#linked universe#linkeduniverse#lu time#lu warriors#lu twilight#lu sky#lu hyrule#lu legend#lu wild#lu four#lu wind#lu headcanons
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Give me more CILF (Creator I'd like to fuck) writing! Please, I beg of you!
an assortment!
Rodimus is the young, hot, eager- to-please Captain that wants to spark you up soooo bad. There's just something so hot about the way you care so fiercely for your sparkling, it really gets his engine revving. He knows he's younger than you, but that doesn't make him any less of a mech! In fact, he's got all the energy and stamina a sire could need to look after any (potential) future sparklings you might have together. He's always looking to impress you, almost tripping over himself to prove he's the mech for you. Drift has heard enough of his delulu daydreams about how much he'd like to give you another. He's always been attracted to older mechs (hard not to be when your entire population is as long-lived as Cybertronians. He may be your boss, a headstrong and over-confident sort of guy, but he could be gentle if you wanted him to be! Let him show you!
Megatron is much quieter in his appreciation of you. It's not that the thought hasn't crossed his mind that you would look SO good carrying his sparkling, it's just that he's well aware how awful a decision that would be. Doesn't stop him from cranking his shaft to the idea. He's perfectly happy to look after the sparkling you already have when you need a break. Some might say he's the very last mech that should be in charge of looking after a sparkling, but he believes that some Autobots are far too self-sacrificing. Sure, he's now committed to the Autobots, but he still holds his personal belief that Cybertronians have value far greater than any self-perceived benefit to others. He will teach your sparkling that they exist first for themselves and for no other to take advantage of: be it a system or an individual. It just sort of helps that looking after your sparkling and ingratiating himself to them also puts him in closer proximity to you.
Ratchet won't ever admit it but the prospect of having a sparkling has always been so tempting for him. Of course, he was never in any position to have a sparkling of his own, first with his practice in Dead End and then the war, and now that he's quite a bit older the chances of that have gone down tremendously. In fact, he sees it as almost bordering on negligent to conceive one. But when he sees you with your sparkling his fantasies and daydreams of a domestic life come surging to the forefront of his processor. It's hard not to feel envy towards you, even if you're forced to care for your sparkling alone, but he tries to stamp out those feelings. You're not deserving of his resentment because he chose not to have bitlets. When he gets to know you better he feels all the worse for having been envious of you, and incredibly grateful that you would let him look after your sparkling. Even if the bitlet isn't his, Ratchet is attached to your offspring like no other and is always fussing after their (and your) care. If Drift notices a difference in Ratchet's demeanor, a certain wistfulness about him, he doesn't bring it up. He knows Ratchet would simply be reluctant to give himself what he wants, although Ratchet carrying the sparkling isn't the only option...
Whirl thinks it's hot. Okay, sure he thinks a lot of things are sexy that aren't supposed to be (that one time Brainstorm's optic was hanging from the socket, for example) but this one of normal! He insists. It's not everyday you meet a Cybertronian who has carried their own offspring. It's sort of an uncommon practice and definitely the most dangerous given the alternatives, but that's part of what makes it so sexy. Rung has informed him that is, actually, a little fucked up (not his words). Whirl would like to know what you looked like carrying. Not every carrier's frame will change drastically, in fact many don't if their armor is bulky enough, but maybe yours did. The fact your frame is so... powerful in a sense, resilient, and durable is kind of a turn on for him. But then again, Whirl gets heated if there's a gun pointed at him, so maybe it is fucked up. Your frame went through all the taxing processes of creating another Cybertronian, and you didn't die! What he wouldn't give to put your frame through it's paces again... Ultra Magnus has gently tried to convince you to get a restraining order against Whirl.
#whirl breeding kink but in the most fucked up sort of way#asks#txt#transformers#reader insert#reader imagine#transformers idw#tf idw#transformers mtmte#tf mtmte#valveplug#just in case#drift#rodimus prime#rodimus#whirl#megatron#ratchet#idw ratchet#idw drift#idw megatron#idw rodimus prime#idw rodimus#mtmte rodimus#mtmte rodimus prime#mtmte megatron#mtmte ratchet#mtmte drift#mtmte whirl
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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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Memento Mori
Going against Dontis' wishes, you found yourself in the labyrinth with one thing in mind only: to save him.
CW: Blood, gore, and death.
Dontis x Reader
The streets of New Orleans were filled with colors and loud celebratory music, it was lively and festive– a contrast to your current state. Your mind was clouded with doubt and anxiety; you could only think about him and him only. The world felt like a different place with no one to be alone with.
You have contemplated everything, there’s not a day when his words slipped through your mind. Dontis’ compassion and faith never ceased to amaze you. But you know how trimedian works– there’s no fair fight in their ideology. When it’s time to strike, they strike. When it’s time to kill, they kill. There’s no mercy between two sides, it will all end in death.
Driving down near the lake, took a deep breath as you reached your destination. You turned off the engine faced by silence. The weight of the situation continues to trouble you. You could turn back and hold on to that vow, or you could hold on to that conviction and assure yourself that he’d be alive and well.
It took you minutes– you chose the latter. If you can capture Dontis and lock him in your basement, what more can others do knowing that it’s a raging war?
You took a deep breath, your decision as strong as ever. Gathering your belongings, you prepare yourself for what might you encounter.
Descending down the labyrinth, you could feel your heart beat out of your chest. Your footsteps light as you reach the base, careful not to attract any unwanted attention. The place was dark and damp, the ambiance only added to your fear.
As you went down the labyrinth you could see corpses– supernatural or human. It was a disturbing sight, one that would haunt you until the day you die.
You went deeper, exploring every corner carefully. The place was strangely quiet, you never liked silence, it made you listen to your own heartbeat. And you understood from a very young age that if you can hear it, they do too.
Taking the corner, your heart stopped as a hand suddenly grabbed you. You didn't hesitate to immediately draw your weapon. Pointing it to them, your eyes widened as you finally faced him.
"What did I say about getting involved?!" Dontis whispered angrily, pulling you closer to him. You felt a wave of relief, seeing him alive and well– but still, you can’t help but feel guilty for going against his wishes.
You shake yourself out of his grasp, "You may be mad at me, but I can't let you die here."
"By making yourself an enemy? A target? You know that I am more than capable– we are more than capable." Irritation seeped through his voice, almost unrecognisable from the sweet and gentle Dontis you knew.
"I know that you're angry, but I just can't watch knowing what might happen." Your voice cracked, looking at him with concern. “I can’t lose someone again. I can’t lose you.”
Dontis' eyes softened, "I understand, but there are risks you can't just blindly take. You're safer than dealing with these once more.”
“I know, but please understand–”
“It’s over.” You both turned to see a blonde man walking towards both of you, interrupting your discussion. Your eyes landed on the unconscious person that he was carrying from his back, and landed back to his face. Blood stained their clothes as they wore the same weary expression, exhausted and pained from what the battle had brought them.
Dontis nodded, wearing the same empathetic face. “We need to get in contact with others and see their situation. Both of you need to go back and rest, Xanthus. We’ll handle the others.”
You nodded as you heard his name. Xanthus, the vampire with the bond. Dontis mentioned him to you multiple times, but seeing him personally in this setting felt surreal.
“Are you sure you can handle it?” Xanthus asked, his face filled with concern.
“We can. I’m not alone anymore, remember?” Dontis gave him a reassuring smile.
Xanthus glanced at you before turning back to Dontis, he nodded. “Take care. And don’t hesitate to contact me.” He said firmly.
“I will.”
And with that, he departed leaving both of you alone together. Dontis handed you a device to help you communicate with others. “Don't worry, that's an extra.” He gave you a small smile.
“Where shall we begin?”
“Finally, we thought we're done for.” A woman sighed, holding someone and herself up as her wounds continued to bleed. “Those bastards. Never thought that they'd hide their place here.” She groaned.
“At least we're able to find you, imagine our shock when we saw your location.” Dontis sighed.
“Well, imagine my shock when I found out their location after they dragged me under the lake.”
Dontis turned to you, “This is Fran and that one's Samia.” He introduced.
You gave them a nod, as you tried to help them up.
“We'd like an introduction right now, but I don't think it's the right time.” Fran groaned as she carried Samia.
“We need to get out of here while we still can.” They all nodded, walking outside the place as fast as you can.
After twists and turns, you were finally able to find the path that led outside. All of you hurried towards the exit with Fran and Samia in front of you as you both guided them to the exit. You and Dontis held the heavy door open from each side, letting them escape first.
As you were about to leave, a loud deafening sound filled the room followed by a thud. You turned to see Dontis, falling to his knees while clutching his chest. Everything happened too quick, it didn't register until you saw a gun pointed in his direction, smoke billowing from the barrel. A small gasp escaped your lips as you saw the person behind it– Audric, that bastard survived!
Rage filled your body, you quickly drew your weapon beating down the already beaten man. His eyes widened, finally noticing you. Before he could retaliate, you lunged at him and sliced his neck. You saw his head roll on the floor, this time it was finally over.
Running towards Dontis, you pulled him closer. Your eyes widened as you examined his wound. The bullet from the shotgun left a hole on his chest, making him bleed quicker than you expected.
"[name]..." Dontis croaked out weakly.
“No, no– you can do this. You can regenerate!” You held him close, frantically doing whatever you can to save him.
The sight of his gaping wound as blood continues to flow from it was maddening. You tried to patch it up, hoping that pressure would help his case. But as his warm blood flows from your hand, hope slipped away with it.
You removed your jacket, wrapping the wound with it. Your hand reached for the radio, calling for immediate back up. And with all your might, you tried to drag him outside.
Painful groans escaped his lips as you dragged his body, “[name], w-wait.”
You stopped, not wanting to hurt him further. Kneeling, you cupped his face, “Come on, few more steps and we're out. We can do this!” You spoke, trying to convince him– or yourself. You tried to ignore the amount of blood that continued to stain the floor.
As you looked at him, the lessons about creatures like him replayed in your mind. He was immortal, but he was not invincible. Back then, you would've exploited it, but now witnessing his limit was torturous. You fell to your knees, sobbing your heart out. “I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.”
Dontis gave you a weak smile, his hand gently wiped your tears. You held the back of his hand, not wanting to let go. Even though he was the one hurting, he still found a will to comfort you.
“I… understand what I signed up for… I accept my fate.” His voice was weak compared to the lively and joyous one you used to hear.
“I don't, so you better hold on until they come back for us!” You tried to be strong, but how could you when the source of that strength was slowly fading away from your grasp.
Dontis nodded and he chuckled weakly, “You're remarkable… that's what… I love about you…”
“Don't you dare close your eyes, Dontis, or I'm going to be so mad at you!” You applied more pressure to his wound, trying to prevent him from bleeding out. It was no use, he was getting more pale as he lost more blood.
He looked at you once again, his eyes filled with love; a gaze that you'll always long for. Dontis’ hand caressed your cheek. His warm touches are now weak. “[name], the sky was a… shade of purple yesterday.”
Your heart dropped, feeling the heartbreak physically. At that point your world slowly crumbles as the reality of the situation hits you. You shook your head, still in denial of what was currently unfolding. You wanted to scream, to wail, to stop the time or rewind it so you're able to save him. But you knew it was impossible. Death is inevitable.
“Dontis…” You tried to speak without your voice shaking, but you failed. “T-The clouds rolled in orange hues…”
A small smile formed on his lips, his body slowly resigned. You watched as he succumbed to his fate, holding his hand that once held yours. “I love you.” You whispered, kissing his cheek for the last time.
For a moment, everything crashed down. The reality that you won't be able to see his smile, hear his voice, or hold him close was maddening. All you have was his cold body that you continued to cradle in your arms. What a cruel fate, for they have taken what you truly cherished once again.
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dopamine - denki kaminari
summary: recovery isn’t linear or easy. it isn’t a million things, and it’s about a million other things. you know this, most of hero society knows this and sort of accepts this. doctors and physical therapists and psychiatrists know this, and preach it. you know it too.
warnings: aftermath of war, mention of injuries, therapy, denki is a good friend
wc: 2,459
"Progress isn't linear," your physical therapist reminds you. It takes every last ounce of self control to keep yourself from snapping that you know hands white-knuckling the wood of the parallel bars.
You want to scream at all your therapists and doctors and nurses that you know progress isn't linear. There's no way for you to not know when you've heard it about a hundred times a day in the six months since the war.
It's even harder to deny when you watch your classmates, fellow hero students, struggle through recovery. The depression and anxiety and PTSD had swept through the nation, and had taken down aspiring heroes and pro heroes alike in massive swathes. You'd watched as the interest in becoming a hero dwindled, no longer a fantasy pipe dream for anybody, but instead a hard earned title with terrifying, life threatening responsibilities.
"I know," You huff out, mostly out of pain and exertion, and you try to take yet another excruciating step. You know you're only moving a few inches at a time — a sad shuffle, if you're honest — but it feels like miles.
There are a few of your classmates also in the PT room, all working on one motor skill or another. Midoriya is seated at one of the tables by the window, working with his own therapist to just grip a pencil.
You'd watched the terrifying green-haired aspiring hero go from screaming and shouting through tears to quiet frustrated sniffling and stifled tears when they'd had him working on the fine motor skill of writing. It had broken your heart, knowing that prior to the war he'd spent nearly all his spare time writing in that notebook he kept. Before the war you might have offered him a smile, some gesture of encouragement, but now you could barely even take a step before the titanium pins holding your joints together jostled and pain shot through you.
You're still hunched over, bracing yourself on the wooden bars, and you can feel a tug on your gait belt as your therapist makes sure you aren't going to fall on your face. You take another sad, measly, step forward and pain races through you, from your toes all the way up through your spine and into your skull. There's a quiet shout as you do it, and for moment you think the sound came from you, but your gait belt remains relaxed.
The shout had come from next to you, Kaminari had fallen, his therapist catching him before his knees could even hit the ground.
You'd watched him struggle through therapy too. His Quirk leaving his body wracked with uncontrollable shakes and tremors. You could still recall very clearly the absolute frustration and anguish he'd expressed at one of the early class therapy sessions over his autonomy being robbed from him.
You could relate.
"Fuck!" He curses, and you can tell he's biting back tears. You take another step, and it hurts so bad a grunt of pain escapes your gritted teeth, knees buckling so hard that your therapist can't seem to react fast enough, and you barely catch yourself on the bars.
You look over at Kaminari, and he's watching you through the long fringe of his blonde hair, the black streak he dyed into nearly entirely faded out. You know he's taking stock of your injuries, the same way you're assessing him, as you ease yourself to the padded floor with a heavy sigh.
"This never seems to get any easier, does it?" He asks, and he's offering you a smile.
"No," you agree in a rasp, vocal cords scraping roughly, never to sound like they did before the war, "It doesn't."
You quickly wipe away your stray tears of pain, turning your head in hopes that you don't have to watch as his expression morphs into something like pity. Or understanding, maybe. Either way, the looks people give you now make you sick to your stomach.
You'd been beaten nearly to death. Though, who hadn't. And although you hadn't had quite as exciting a resuscitation as Bakugou had, you'd been resuscitated twice during your hospital stay. The surgeries had been intensive, not that you'd know having been practically comatose for the three weeks following the end of the war, and recovery had been painfully slow.
Your throat had been ruined, and the reconstruction hadn't been easy — or pretty. So now your voice was a shallow rasp of what it had once been, and that was an improvement from the disturbing gargle it had been at the first class therapy session.
Kaminari was eyeing the marred skin on your neck, angry raised pink and red skin whorling around your neck and up to the right side of your chin and jawline.
Again, not pretty.
"I ha-haven't—haven't seen you without ban-ba-bandages before," Denki comments quietly, and when you lift your head to offer him a wry grin he's looking away, face twisted into something that looks like shame. Or maybe it's embarrassment. You have a hard enough time picking through your own emotions without the help of your therapist to be trying to decipher anybody else's.
"Oh, yeah, sorry," You mutter despondently, a hand coming to feel at the whorls of scar tissue, "I know it's pretty nasty."
Kaminari's therapist is helping him into a wheelchair now, the same as yours, holding onto you by your gait belt.
"Nah," He says, shaking his head as he leans back into the wheelchair. Then he's wheeled out, and his therapist takes him down a hall you've never been down.
"Progress isn't linear," Denki's therapist tells him.
"I know," Denki says, and he's glad that his voice is his right now. No stuttering, no awkward stumbles, his brain firing only the synapses it needs to, "It's just— I went from having total control to having none in just a little over a day. And the worst part is I did it to myself. People would have died if I didn't, but I would still be me if I hadn't."
Denki knows he's shaking, knows because his therapist is offering him a blanket— still not able to tell when he's got tremors or when he's actually shivering. He just shakes his head at her, not sure that when he opens his mouth next he'll be able to speak.
"People would have died either way," His therapist tells him, "Had you been put in your position again, knowing what it would do to you to stay, would you do it again?"
Denki looks appalled, shocked, maybe even a little angry at the thought, "I'd do it a hundred times over if that meant we had a better chance at winning the war."
For some reason, as his therapist points to him, telling him that he's got answer right there, he thinks of you. Wonders if you'd do it all again, even with the knowledge that you'd end up potentially with the worst of the injuries.
He remembers seeing you get wheeled past him in the hospital when the war had ended. A nurse had been on top of you, doing chest compressions, and he would never forget how air had wheezed past your lips, and the noise your ribs made as they cracked from the compressions. He'd been horrified when you passed by, his classmates who could stand gasping at the state of you as you'd been wheeled by. He remembers the many odd angles your legs had bent, and the vicious burns and cuts in your neck, and how your face had been so bloodied and bruised and swollen you were unrecognizable. The only indication it was you had been your tattered hero costume, hanging off of you in shreds.
"A friend of mine," Denki starts, even though he knows todays session is coming to a close, the visual timer his indicator, "Was in even worse condition than I was after the war. I think the worst condition in our class. They're still attending classes even though they can barely walk most of the time. I know they'd do it all again, too. But I can't imagine why they'd want to suffer through all that they have again."
"Why don't you ask them that?" His therapist suggests.
The next day Denki does just that. He hunts you down on wobbling legs, world tilting as he does, after classes had ended. Despite most everybody in class still suffering mobility issues, regular classes had resumed two months after the war had ended. And despite your incredibly limited mobility, your Quirk helped you get around better than most.
The war had either drawn friends closer in the aftermath, people clinging to the bonds they already had, like Denki had done, his friendships with his classmates who were willing even stronger than they had been prior to the war. Or it did what it had done to you, the remnants of war weighing so heavily that seclusion seemed to be the only option.
Then again, most everybody had become more withdrawn in the aftermath of the war. Conversations between anybody was stilted, even amongst those who had been closer than close.
So when he'd finally hunted you down, exhausted and shaking so bad it was wonder he'd managed to find you at all, it was an odd sort of relief when you'd smiled in greeting.
You'd hidden away on dorm roof, knowing that if anybody wanted to talk to you the stairs made the process all that more difficult for most of your classmates. You waved him over, and he wobbled his way over to you trying his best to walk steady, even as a particularly bad wave of tremors came over him.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" You'd asked in way of greeting when he'd taken a seat next to you near the edge of the roof. You even smiled at him, halfway forced, but mostly genuine, the muscles in your face atrophied from a general lack of use over the past six months.
Denki smiles in return, his mouth twitching wildly as his brain misfires, "I was hoping I could ask you something. If that's okay?"
A spark of panic runs through you, there aren't usually very many scenarios when you're asked a question that doesn't make everybody uncomfortable when you deign to answer. You spare a glance at him, searching for any signs of discomfort in his face. Finding none, you nod slowly.
"If you could go back, would you still have fought in the war, knowing what you know now?"
You stare at him, and you can already see the regret sinking into his face. You rush to find an answer. You'd had a similar conversation with your therapist before, back when the concept of survivor's guilt had been new and foreign. You had told your therapist yes, of course you would, because -
"-It didn't really feel like there was any other choice to make," The words leave your mouth involuntarily.
Your classmates had expressed similar sentiments, that they were there, what else were they supposed to do? You didn't care that you were already there, time and place had nothing to do with it. You could've been out of there in a matter of minutes.
"You could've walked away, though," Denki says, knowing the same as you that getting away wasn't the issue like it had been for most of his classmates, "You had a choice. Why did you stay?"
"I was either going to die that day or live with a lifetime of guilt. Dying seemed easier at the time."
He flinches at the mention of death, having tasted it himself, "But you didn't."
"No," You agree, "I didn't. I wrecked myself, and I'd do it all again, even as I am now if it means I can die knowing I did all that I could."
He hums, maybe with electricity, you don't know. You don't look over to check.
"Nobody would have been mad at you if you'd left."
"I would have."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Your words haunt Kaminari in the days that follow, and he makes an active effort to drag you into his friend groups activities. You let him pull you along for lunch with his friends, and you try your hardest to greet them with the same enthusiasm they did.
His friends are riddled with about the same amount of scar tissue you are, Bakugo perhaps the worst. You'd heard about his meeting with death on the battlefield with All For One. He'd sought you out maybe a month after Kaminari had integrated you into their friend group to talk about the shared experience of dying.
Then, suddenly, you couldn't seem to shake Kaminari, try as you might. He was walking with you to and from class, and the two of you did physical therapy together, even though you'd progressed to a point where you could start more intensive training and he still wobbled every other step.
So, maybe it was a two-person effort that pulled him into your life, an integral player. Or maybe it was an unhealthy trauma bond, you couldn't tell, chest still numb in the aftermath. Though, you couldn't tell if the numbness was from your anti-depressants or the war.
"I'm glad you've found a support group of sorts," Your therapist tells you at your next visit, "It's important to have friends and strong bonds in times like these."
You nod along numbly. Granted, your therapist's right, you've been feeling better since that day on the roof when Kaminari had hunted you down to ask you what nobody else seemed to want to.
"Kaminari's been a really good friend to me," You tell your therapist, "Feels like I haven't been as good of a friend as I maybe should be."
Your therapist only hums, and leaves with the advice that you should maybe do something to let Kaminari know you appreciate his friendship with you.
The next time Kaminari finds you on the roof, you're greeting him with a Pikachu phone charm and a box of his favorite cookies.
"To say thanks," you tell him, even though he doesn't ask and you don't look at him. Kaminari's chest blooms with an electric warmth and this time he's sure it's not from his Quirk.
"You should call me Denki," Is all he says, and he feels giddy at the thought, "We're friends, after all."
You hum, your legs swinging gently over the ledge of the dorm roof. You smile with no restraint when you finally return his gaze, your eyes meeting his shaking golds.
"Only if you call me (f/n), Denki."
It's like you took a shot of dopamine when he smiles in return, and says, "Okay, (f/n)."
#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bnha#my hero academia#mha x y/n#mha x you#mha imagines#bnha x you#bnha imagines#denki kaminari#mha denki#denki x reader#bnha denki#denki x y/n#mha kaminari#kaminari x reader#bnha kaminari#kaminari x y/n#kaminari x you#kaminari denki#denki kaminari x reader#denki kaminari x y/n
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Why hello there.
Listen,I don’t have much to say about the newest LO episode so here’s an ares ranking to go along with the other ones.
Spoilers.
Percy Jackson:
6/10
Look,Ares is a really weird figure when it comes to how the media presents him.
Almost always they present him as this sexist frat boy when in mythology he is:
A reported protector of mistreated woman.
The patron god of the amazons and was worshipped to the point that their leader had 2 babies with him.
Scored the GODDESS PF LOVE AND BEAUTY and there is no way you cannot convince me she doesn’t have some pretty high standards(even though apparently you can convince most of the writers on this list)
And as much as I love Percy Jackson,it is not devoid of crimes.
In the first book,he helps Luke/Kronos steal Zeus’ master bolt and Hades’ helm of invisibility as to start a civil war within the gods.id say this is a pretty good portrayal overall.
…until we get to the second book.
This myth will be very important so long story short:a daughter of ares got r*** by a son of Poseidon so Ares,like any reasonable and bloodthirsty god of war,fucking killed him.
After this,he got put on trial for murder as if he wasn’t the literal god of bloody war,and all the ladies vouched for him so he got set free.
Let’s just say,Rick Riordan didn’t know of this myth.
In the second book,there’s a scene where Clarisse La Rue,a DAUGHTER of ares talks to him through a magic mirror.
There,he threatens her and says he should have sent one of his sons on the quest.and keep in mind she is his FAVORITE DAUGHTER.
So yeah.
I don’t really like this portrayal but he gets points for bringing Clarisse and (technically)Frank into this world since I like them both.also the fact that Percy could tell he had beef with him even without having any other memory.
Lore Olympus:
1/10
FUCK THIS GUY
Remember when I said that modern Ares was more often than not a sexist frat boy?we’ll add ��predator” and “Reddit nice guy” to that list because RS can’t write.
If in Percy Jackson Aphrodite had terrible standards here said standards are so much worse.
He spends MONTHS trying to seduce a 19-YEAR-OLD and then tries to marry her without her consent.
Also,sir,YOU HAVE THE GODDESS OF LOVE AND BEAUTY FULLY AT YOUR DISPOSAL AND YOURE PICKING A GURL WHO DOESNT EVEN KNOW HIW TO USE A COMPUTER????
Great.this guy is a predator,Reddit nice guy,AND stupid.
I remember saying that the only character who could get a lowers rating than LO Persephone being LO hades and then I remembered this fuck existed.
Fuck him.
Hades:
10/10
Your know when you see something and then immediately want to wash your eyes with soap?this is my soap.
He is my third favorite Olympian in the game,coming third to Hermes and Artemis.
So here’s a few reasons why I like him:
Doom anything with impending doom and the increasing doom damage boon does absurd amounts of damage.
Curse of nausea is one of the best duos in the game.
He respects woman.(oh look they finally Aphrodite standards)
His quest is stupidly easy and he was the first Olympian who’s bond I maxed out.
I know this joke has been made so many times but.he really is a Chthonic simp.
He doesn’t get too pissed if you don’t pick him is trial of gods.hes just here for the bloodshed.
It may be just the fact that almost every other interpretation of ares is bad,but I really like him.
Also Aphrodite wearing his face paint in hades 2-
OSP:
7/10
He’s cool.
I really don’t have much else to add except the helmet stays on during sex.
Gods school:
5/10
Welp Back to the incels-
Him straight up telling Aphrodite that he can do whatever he wants because she won’t leave is just.why.
I don’t get why people go to this myth,turn it around,and act as if they’ve done a service by making Ares miserable when in the myths it was already a good ending.
What is with the obsession with making ares a toxic ex boyfriend when in the myths him and ‘dite were literally love and war.
Another issue I have with gods school is the fact they made Aphrodite a Karen Smith when in the myths shes a Regina George but that’s a problem for the Aphrodite ranking.
Also I just realized the Aphrodite Hephaestus ares myth is the og “I fell in love with a bad boy story”-
Epic:the musical:
8/10
I don’t have a physical picture of him but I already like him.
The only time he he appears is during a bit of an unfinished song but he does bring up some pretty good points,like the Scylla thing.
Also the fact Athena didn’t directly refute any of his points but instead persuaded him with the fact that the moment Ody gets home the suitors are going to be fucked is surprisingly great.
Also can I just say how absolutely hyped I am for god games?Aphrodite’s part fucking rocks and I’m excited for Apollo and Hephaestus.
Also here’s my ranking for epic Hermes since I wasn’t part of the fandom back then:
10/10
*insert dolphin laugh here*
#anti lore olympus#anti lo#lo critical#lore olympus critical#lo criticism#lore olympus#Lore Olympus ares#percy jackson#hades ares#overly sarcastic productions#hades#hades supergiant#supergiant hades#gods school#hades 2#he hasn’t appeared yet but fuck it#he better#hades ii
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Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 30
chapter 49:
1. jegulus jumpscare (it’s a dream i wasn’t expecting)
2. shit. the dream is about their wedding plans. i- i can’t do this shit while reg is in the arena
3. shit it’s raining and i know reg can’t handle it because of the last crimson river/arena
4. god, sirius wakes up to the rain and his first thought it to go save regulus
5. “"Lily, have you been using sex for favors?"
"No." Lily pauses, then snorts. "Well, alright, so this is how it works, yeah? I'm already having sex, and then I'm like, say, look at you all laid out and desperate to give me what I want; don't you want to do this very small, very simple thing for me? And then they mostly always say yes, and they get what they want, all while I'm having a grand time and also getting what I want. See? Win-win.””
😭😭😭 i love her your honor
6. “”I cannot believe that this revolution is partially running on your competency in sex."
"Oh, if only it could fully run on that. Everything would go so smoothly. Shit, we'd win the war in, like, a week.""
😭😭😭💍♥️ marry me please
7. “”I keep telling [Effie] I know exactly how to make her feel better, but she insists she's a married woman, and also far too old for me. Disappointing, really.”” 😭😭😭
8. james confronting lucius has me scared for remus. like, i know they can’t trace it back to remus, but i’m so scared
9. james is pissed at the world and it’s honestly scary
10. i know james is trying to use donations, but i’m also aware that riddle wants to make sure no donations make it to reg, sirius, or marlene
11. “"Aw, your boyfriend sent you a present," Rabastan teases, his tone lighthearted and good-natured.
"Fiancé," Regulus corrects sharply”
GAGGED. he took james’ words and fucking ran with it like nobody’s business
12. not narcissa welcoming james to the family 😭😭😭😭
13. james sent him a bagel and all the death eaters are making fun of him for being gay over it 😭😭
14. all james sent on the card was “???” 😭😭 pls that’s so funny
15. poor eli
16. the sad bonding over marlene and sirius having recovered from drinking problems
17. don’t tell me that the fucking crimson river hands are coming out the hedges. i- god i hope reg gets to personally witness riddle’s downfall
18. AND THE FUCKING GREEN MIST??? FUCK THIS
19. “You never truly do feel as alive as when death is breathing down your neck.”
oh he’s insane as hell. a black for sure
20. shit. sirius’ mind just went blank in the maze
21. the hallow is cruel beyond belief for this
22. “He has had dreams of Regulus, ah, using his dagger during…intimate moments, but is that something he'd actually do? Well… Okay, bad example.” 😭😭😭😭
23. james was so close to an epiphany about mcgonnagal making everyone hate the games. he was so close
24. “Thorfinn said he'd have to be killed to be stopped from going after Sirius, even though Regulus explicitly told him what he'd do about that, and so Regulus killed him. Newton's third law: for every action in nature there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
bitch do not pull physics into this 😭😭
also that means that sir isaac newton existed in this universe, which if we see this as a future for our universe, it means that homophobia was prevalent at one point and the world straight up just eradicated it. 🤷🏽♀️ pro for this universe ig
25. “When he lifts his head, the first thing Regulus sees is his brother.
The second thing he sees is Sirius' fist, just the flash of it, just seconds before it collides with the side of his face.”
he had it coming fr
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Rise
621 words / Prompt: Family
Today’s mini-fic is a little bit that didn’t make it into The Last Envoy. After the war, Sherlock returns and visits Mummy.
1946
Mycroft told me that Mummy was failing a bit, but that was not what I saw when I looked through the garden door and saw her snipping flowers to put in a vase. She looked like the woman I’d last seen four years ago, before I went to Oxford, still tall and straight, graceful and beautiful.
Four years seemed a lifetime. Years filled with separation and waiting, spent in places only war can create.
“Happy Birthday, Mummy,” I said, smiling.
She turned then, and I could see that her hair was whiter, her movements slower. She lay down the scissors and put her arms around me, still holding two roses. I felt her hands tremble against my back.
“My boy,” she whispered. “My dearest darling.”
She knew me, but in her mind I was always the son she’d lost, so many years ago. A bright little boy she’d called Sherlock, as well as the man Mycroft had named after that child.
“How are you?” I could see a brightness in her eyes and was glad that her mind was still active.
“I’m fine,” she replied, holding me at arm’s length now and examining me with that sharp gaze. “You look surprisingly well. Doctor Watson has been taking good care of you.”
“He has. Switzerland is a very healthy place to live. Up in the mountains, the air is crystal clear. I’m sure I’ll miss it and will need to visit again some day, but for now I’m happy to be back.”
We sat, and Rose brought us tea.
“Mycroft told me about your experiences. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. It’s heart-breaking that people can do such things.”
I did not speak; a question should not be answered until it is asked.
“How is John?” she asked.
“He’s fine. He would have come with me, but he had to be at the hospital today.”
“He’s a good man. I’m glad you have him.”
“I’m very lucky.”
We sipped our tea in silence. I could hear the bees humming in her flowers. Closing my eyes, I recalled the first time I saw bees travelling between the flowers in Mycroft’s garden. I imagined a day when I could no longer sit in Mummy’s garden, watching the bees and talking to her.
As if she could hear my thoughts, she smiled and spoke to me.
“I’m seventy-five years old today, Sherlock. With luck, I may have several more birthdays.”
“I hope so, Mummy.”
She gave me that familiar look, the one that means she wants to share something personal, words for my ears alone. “You once described to me how the Beta view time as an arrow, always travelling up, leaving the past behind. It’s a good way to look at ageing, which often feels like loss. I’ve decided that as the years pile up, I will rise above them, into the future.”
In my mind I sometimes felt myself looking back as my ship moved up and away from Beta, my home planet, until it sparkled, a tiny point of light in the trackless black universe. I remembered everything about my home, every one of the people who loved me. They were moving quickly into the past, growing smaller as I looked back. I was flying away from them, but still too far away from my destination to see the life I would have on a planet that couldn’t be seen from Beta. In my memories, they were always looking up, watching me leave them.
That is how it would be for this woman who had become my second mother. In my memories, she would always live.
One day, I would be a Memory too.
I smiled. “We all rise.”
—
For a bit of context, an excerpt from The Last Envoy, Chapter 2:
1938
“How old are you?” I asked.
She raised her chin, a sign of pride. “I am sixty-seven years old.” She leaned forward and patted my knee. I wasn’t sure what this meant. “You’re a lovely boy, Sherlock. I want to teach you something important.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“Women don’t like being asked their age,” she said. “I don’t mind because I’m an old woman and you are a lovely young man. You don’t know all of the social nuances, but you’re a quick learner.”
“Why do women not like to be asked their age?” It seemed to me that any human ought to be proud of living so long.
She sighed. “It’s a bit complicated. Men don’t mind saying their age. You must understand that the role of women in our society is to produce children and raise them. For that, we have to project youth and good heredity, as evidenced by our beauty. A woman hates to think that she is no longer useful, so we continue to foster the illusion that we are still young and beautiful, even when it is a ridiculous fantasy.”
“Why do you think you are not useful?” I asked. “Women are not just breeding machines; they have brains. You had an important job; you’re obviously an intelligent woman who would do a better job running the country than most men.”
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I do not disagree. But these are the roles that nature has given us and society requires. Perhaps one day, we will rise above nature and society.”
@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes
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Cassian thinks Prythian would blessed to have Feysand as High King and Queen yet the dude can’t even govern his own territory properly. If he can neglect and disregard two thirds territory and justify it without complaint, from the ic, then he has no business taking over more territories for any reason! Do you know what would happen if he did?
It’s safe to assume that Winter, Summer and Day would receive preferential treatment. Mostly due to Mor and Amren’s ties to Vivienne and Varian, but also because of how valuable Helion is with his libraries and skills. However, it's likely they'd be extremely weary of him at the same time, for those exact reasons. Maybe they'd even convince Nesta to dance with him as a form of manipulation?
Meanwhile, he’d probably be indifferent to dawn, though their aerial legions may be forced to join with the Illyrians so they’re be able to fight cohesively together. It would also mean they'd be able to keep an eye on the Peregryns that way, with the Illyrians keeping an eye on them to prevent revolt, if Rhysand has any fear of that.
It's been mentioned that Thesan only has a 'small legion' of them, and while small doesn't necessarily mean fewer than, given that Rhysand's armies seem to be made up of darkbringers and Illyrians, with no indications of anyone else. And after what Amarantha did to them, along with how pregnancy is really rare for fae, it's reasonable to assume that their numbers have thinned even more, meaning that the Illyrians likely outnumber them by a decent amount.
Meanwhile The Spring and Autumn courts will be the new Illyria and HC. Or they’d serve the same fundamental purpose at least. They'd be the ones who suffer and are stuck with the role of monsters just to promote Rhysand as a hero/saviour/victim/whatever else he needs to appear as that week. It's likely that Tamlin, Beron and Eris would be forced to give up their titles and authority, along with whatever wealth they have, if not imprisoned all together for whatever crimes the IC accuse them of. They likely wouldn't even acknowledge the abuse of Eris and his brothers, simply chalking it up to him being just as bad as Beron and straight up killing them.
Plus, there’s no telling how the land would react and what would happen to the symbol or station of High Lord. If they are no longer leaders, are the ambassadors to the high king? Will that become an inherited position? I mean, given the kind of power the HLs have, letting them remain private citizens is unwise, while giving them power as aristocracy makes Rhysand seem like somewhat of a figurehead, bringing whatever authority he claims into question. Meanwhile, having the jobs of ambassadors or advisors be inherited positions based on who the land choses to give power to as opposed to skill, and ability seems just as dangerous and foolish.
All it would do is prove that Rhysand is every bit, if not more, the monster that they made him out to be. There's no way they'd agree to it, so Rhysand would have to use force. It would mean a period of civil war, before any semblance of order or peace was regained.
They'd have to Force Nesta and Elain into another war, even if they don't end up wanting anything to do with one, given that it's through their, or even mostly Nesta's, powers that Rhysand is to take his supposed to take this throne.
Would Varian still be able to have feelings for Amren, knowing that she put this idea into Rhysand's head, encouraging him to do it? How would Vivian look at Mor and still consider her a friend after such a betrayal? Would Rhysand and Feyre even care about the innocents that died during that war? No. To all of the above, no.
Typing all of this out, makes it seem like Feysand becoming HK/Q would result in the Nc basically becoming Panem. They even have a mock Hunger Games through the blood right, while Velaris is basically The Capital. Anyone who's watched/read THG can tell you how that ended.
#anti inner circle#anti rhysand#nesta deserves better#anti morrigan#anti ic#anti amren#anti mor#anti cassian#anti nessian#anti rhys#anti sjm#anti feyre#anti elain#anti high king rhys#It's a disaster waiting to happen#I'm telling you
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iii. better than that || all i could do
"I'm flying full speed ahead.”
“I want you and you and nothing but you.”
Pairing: Lee Jihoon x f!Reader
Summary: One year with Jihoon and all you can see is how much better life is with him.
Warnings: fluff
Word Count: 1300
A/N: this is one of my favorite songs in the whole musical, i just think it's so bright and summer-y. plus the weather here in korea has been just so perfect so i love the feeling.
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“Jihoon, let’s pull over and buy some snacks,” you whined as you pulled his hand into yours.
“No,” Jihoon shook his head with a laugh, glancing over to see you pouting in the passenger’s seat. You knew Jihoon was a sucker for your pout (he was a sucker for you in general), but you underestimated his unwavering dedication to impress your parents with his punctuality.
“Your parents are expecting us at 3, so we’ll be there at 3.” He brought your hands over the center console as he rubbed his thumb across your hand.
“But–”
“No,” he interrupted. His tone was firm, but the smile on his face was playful. “We can buy some snacks when I stop for gas, alright?” You smiled back at him, relishing the small victory. Jihoon was not very good at saying no to you.
It was the beginning of October now and the leaves were beginning to fall. The country roads leading to your parents’ home were littered with oranges and golds and you were thankful for the week off from school and even more thankful that you didn’t have to return to your small town alone for the holiday.
It was the middle of the fall semester and you and Jihoon were both thankful to be done with midterms. Unlike midterms the last two semesters however, you and Jihoon spent more time studying in the bedroom of his apartment rather than on campus. You did go to the library a few times, but once Jihoon released his song (the one he was writing when you first met him) it became hard to focus with people coming up to him every five minutes to congratulate him.
It happened like a lightning strike. It seemed that overnight Jihoon had become the latest buzz among campus, and you couldn’t be any happier that the world was now getting to see the amazing brain that you’ve gotten to know over the last year. It was easy to share his brain with the world when you knew you had his heart all for yourself.
The world knew him as a rockstar, a smooth-talking, guitar-shredding, cool-as-ice rockstar. But you knew him as the nerdy owner of 3 Lego Star Wars models with loose papers strewn around his room and a pathetically empty fridge that only ever had Coke Zero and an assortment of cheeses.
So here you are, hours deep on the drive to your small hometown with your big shot loser boyfriend and you relished the idea of it, unable to hide the proud smile that crept onto your lips.
“What’s got you smiling, pretty girl?” Jihoon’s question brought you out of your thoughts. You looked up at him. His raven hair was now grown out and wavy, unlike when you first met him, and he had one hand on the wheel, driving down the empty country road much faster than the prescribed 60 miles per hour. He was divine, he was yours.
“You,” you answered simply.
Jihoon glanced down at you with a chuckle. “Me, huh?”
“Yup,” you popped the ‘p’ at the end of your word. “How much have I told you about my hometown, babe?”
He hummed in thought before answering. “Not much,” he replied. “Just that it was small and you couldn’t wait to get out of it.”
“You’re right,” you mused. “That really isn't much at all.”
“Are you finally planning on sharing the lore with me?” Jihoon asked playfully.
“Yeah,” you relented, turning to rest your elbows on the center console and your head in your hands. “I guess it’s finally time to drop the mysterious girlfriend act.”
“By all means,” Jihoon encouraged with a laugh.
“Well,” you began. “It all started senior year when my best friend got pregnant. It was big news, but not much of a surprise. Anyway, that summer she and her baby daddy had a shotgun wedding at her family’s farm and they got a little cute house on a little cute street and had a cute little baby. She stayed home with the kid and he got a job at the pretzel store in the mall. Happily ever after.”
Jihoon laughed. “No way that’s the end of the lore,” he prodded. “You haven’t even talked about yourself yet.”
“Okay, okay,” you continued. “Honestly, that’s a pretty common way to go for people from my town, and I guess while the white picket fence life is nice and cute and sweet enough… At some point I decided that I wanted something better than that… that I could do better than that.”
“And have you?” Jihoon asked playfully.
“I’d say so,” you replied with a smile. “Anyway, later that fall, I finally moved to the city for school. I got myself a single room, got lost on campus a few times, and nearly smuggled a cat into my dorm. I was making A’s in all my pre-med classes, and I think that’s around the time I met–”
“Me?” Jihoon interrupted.
You smirked as you shook your head. “That’s when I met Mingyu,” you corrected.
“Oh, Mingyu,” Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Gross.”
You reached over and lightly swatted at his arm and he pretended to wince before pulling your hand into his once again. “As I was saying,” you began. “He was in my statistics class, and he was cute and funny and smart as a whip. Honestly wouldn’t have gotten an A in that class without him.”
“Ahem,” Jihoon coughed. “Continue.”
“So we started dating,” you continued. “And I thought things were going well until right before Christmas when he left me out of the blue with a heartfelt letter saying he needed to focus on his ‘career.’” You moved your hands in air quotations to emphasize the last word.
“Isn’t he a mid-tier League of Legends player?” Jihoon scoffed as you nodded ruefully and shrugged. He smirked and slipped your hands together.
“It hurt for a bit,” you confessed. “Until I realized… I can do better than that.”
Jihoon was now exiting the highway and pulling into a gas station that had definitely seen better days. He put the car in park and turned to you. “And that’s when you met me?”
You nodded and slipped your hand to cup his face. “That’s when I met you,” you confirmed as you leaned in for a kiss. Jihoon’s hands felt like fire as they traced their way up your arms and found their place at the back of your neck. He pulled you in like you were air fanning the flame. You’re not sure who came up for air first.
“Jihoon,” you whispered his name breathlessly. “When we get to my house, take a good look at everything I left behind and look at how far I’ve come. Then think about everything we have to look forward to together, everything you and I want, and think about how much better we can do.”
“I think life is looking great already,” he breathed against your lips, pressing one last kiss against them.
He was right, things were looking up for the both of you. Graduation was one year away and you were doing well in your classes, and Jihoon’s music was gaining more and more traction. Things were on the up and they were moving fast.
“Then think about moving in with me,” the words escaped your mouth before you had a chance to second guess them. You swear you could hear Jihoon’s heart beating in the inches of space between you.
He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, shaking his head with a smile before leaning his forehead against yours gently. “Beat me to it again.”
Taglist: @yksthings @alonelystarfish @coveyland @xuimhao @sana-is-ms-rmty @gummymintae @maverey
#lee jihoon#woozi#seventeen fluff#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#woozi x reader#woozi scenarios#woozi fluff#lee jihoon x reader#woozi angst#lee jihoon angst#seventeen angst
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What is one head canon you have for every individual member of the chain?
only one headcanon for each of them? 🥺
Time: I’ve definitely said this one before, but he is not at all trying to be fatherly. He does care about the boys a lot, but his fatherly actions are all completely unintentional, he has no idea some of them look up to him like a dad, and he has yet to realize he looks at some of them as his kids. In his mind he’s just being kind and brotherly. He has a hard time expressing emotions and seriously struggles with facial expressions, which is why he comes off as so hard to approach and seems more responsible and dad like, but that’s not the case at all. He’s just as chaotic as the others and seriously is oblivious to how some of them look up to him
Warriors: I headcanon he comes from a family of tailors (which is a headcanon ive seen before) who own a small shop in the little village he comes from (he’s not originally a city boy to me, he became a city boy later in life). His family also owns a small farm and he had big dogs growing up. Had the war never happened he’d probably still be with them, taking over his mom’s shop because he was the one most interested in it (i also headcanon he has a lot of siblings)
Twilight: He needs people to take care of or he won’t take care of himself. He just falls into such a slump if there’s no one for him to look after because he feels useless and unneeded. He’s a serious hoverer when one of the others are injured but he feels bad for hovering so he ends up sitting on the opposite side of camp looking like a wet dog and it’s just so sad looking 😭
Sky: I know a lot of people make him super sleepy or give him asthma because of his low stamina in Skyward Sword and also because he just always seems tired in that game, but for me Sky has epilepsy, and that’s why he has periods of time where he’s just absolutely exhausted
Hyrule: Not afraid of much and has a stomach of steel. This kid will eat anything and everything and will be completely fine. Bonus extra headcanon: I think he’s older than Legend
Legend: I headcanon he’s autistic and struggles to control the tone of his voice, and that’s why he can come off pretty harsh. He doesn’t mean to, he’s seriously pretty chill (unless Warriors is involved), but he can come off as disinterested or snappy when he really doesn’t mean to
Wild: Actually extremely good at handling his emotions and dealing with problems (compared to the others). He knows he gets overwhelmed and while he’s not the best at telling someone where he goes to blow off steam, he knows how to hold himself back and handle himself, and he’s perfectly capable of defending himself if something happens when he goes off alone. Sometimes he just needs to be alone, and if he really CANT be alone because it’s too dangerous, Wolfie will trail after him just for backup and keep his distance
Four: BIG reader, he loves to curl up with a good book but it’s hard for him to get his alone time to focus on what he’s reading while he’s traveling with the others. He will make up stories in his head when he can’t sleep or actually focus, and he’s a really animated story teller. He’s told a lot of campfire stories and when he’s doing those it’s one of the very few times the others actually shut up
Wind: Dyslexic and seriously struggles to read, but he absolutely LOVES to draw and would doodle all the time during any lessons anyone tried to give him ever. Give this kid a sketchbook and he’ll literally draw you a masterpiece. He loves sketching scenery and the others and he’s FREAKY good at it
#jes talks#jes ask#linked universe#linkeduniverse#lu time#lu warriors#lu twilight#lu sky#lu hyrule#lu legend#lu wild#lu four#lu wind#lu headcanons#jes headcanons
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