#and how even though John didn't remember what he said he definitely felt what he said even in the first chapter when he was thinking about h

[m1ssunderstanding]

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: The Beatles (Band) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney Characters: John Lennon, Paul McCartney, Denny Laine, Ringo Starr, Linda McCartney Additional Tags: Post Beatles break-up, Wings UK Tour 1979, Fix-It, POV Alternating, Pining, Jealousy, Eventual Smut, Eventual Fluff Summary:

During the Beatle years, John left a jumper at Paul's house, and Paul kept it and started to wear it. Now, in 1979, John sees a picture in a magazine of Denny Laine wearing the jumper. HIS jumper. John decides to go meet up with Wings to get it back.

No words for my love of this fic!!! I just finished it and it needed to be shared. Everyone should read this ASAP. 

[maryangelex]

Never Let Me Go (Pt.2)

John Price x f!Reader

Part 3

Summary: After meeting John, you couldn’t help but wish and long to see him again.

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, some suggestive/mature language

A/N: did I say I was gonna update in Wednesday?? That’s crazy, I don’t remember that at all!! Anyways…here ya go kids, it’s disgusting and fluffy and short!!! I promise there will be smutty deliciousness soon!!!

This chapter’s song is Little Bit by Lykke Li

The next day you woke up and headed to work, everything was the same as usual. Except now you felt you had something to look forward to. Or more like someone you looked forward to.

If he even showed up, you thought. You didn't fail to remind yourself to not get too excited, to set yourself up for failure, just so that you wouldn't disappoint yourself.

The rest of the day at the cafe you served the same familiar orders, smiled at the regular faces, and that feeling of sameness and dissatisfaction was gnawing at you like it did the night before.

Despite your best efforts at not eagerly hoping to see John again, you couldn’t help but have a little bit of optimism and anticipation that he would walk through the doors again.

But what you worried would happen happened, and you were disappointed. It crushed your spirits to have let yourself get excited just to later on be let down.

You felt like you were stood up. And that night you locked up the cafe after the closing shift, said goodnight to your cousin, and went back to your lonely little flat. To do things all over again the next day.

You were woken up by the rays of light that bled through your curtains. As your eyes slowly peeled open, you realized you had fallen asleep on your couch, wrapped up in the knitted blanket that you kept there. You mumbled something to yourself as you rubbed your eyes, then reached for your phone on the coffee table only to check the time.

When you realized you had overslept, you jumped awake and scrambled to your room. All you could think about was that your cousin was definitely overwhelmed and pulling her hair out having to run the cafe by herself. She had probably opened late, too, and was more than likely cursing your name through clenched teeth. All these thoughts ran through your head as you did your best to get ready in under twenty minutes.

The best you could do was take the briefest ice-cold shower to get your body going and throw on the most cohesive, monochrome outfit your frantic brain could compute. The moment you made it through your front door, you practically ran to the cafe, the heel of your boots clacked over the cobblestone.

You finally arrived at the coffee shop, bursting through the door with a string of apologies to your cousin and a clammy forehead beaded with sweat. You peeled your layers off, one by one, until you were only wearing your long-sleeve shirt and jeans, and tied the apron around. As you circled the counter to get your day started, you rambled on to your cousin, who was barely looking at you as she poured an effortless foam art into a large round mug.

"I'm so sorry, cuz, I have no idea how I managed to sleep in so much—" You were cut off by your cousin placing the cup in your hands. Her hands stilled over yours as you looked down confused, then up at her. Her face was beaming with a cheeky smile.

"He's here," she whispered, wide eyes and smirking face expressing pure joy.

You looked over to the rest of the shop, your eyes scanning the patrons who had their noses buried in books or cups of coffee to their lips. Almost immediately, though, your eyes fell right on a familiar figure.

John sat at an upholstered chair in a far corner of the cafe, right by the large window with the sun’s glare casting over him, warming and softening the angles of his face. He was clad in a dark green sweater today, an arm crossed over his abdomen as he reclined into the chair with the book you gave him in his other hand. He was at its last few pages. His expression was that of concentration, with knitted brows and a light pout.

You marveled at him, your heart stopping in its track when you caught sight of him. But you turned back to your cousin with feigned aloofness.

“Well, he lives nearby apparently so it’s no surprise—“ she cut you off again.

“He asked for you, cuz,” your cousin’s eyes pierced through you, her face turning stern. “He walked in today and immediately asked for you. He’s been sitting there waiting.”

Your lips pressed tightly into a line. He was waiting for you?

Your cousin’s hold over your hands strengthened as she pushed you to move, to go approach him.

“Take this to him, cuz,” her tone was a mix of a plea and a command. “He seems like he really likes you…do this for yourself, you deserve it.”

You gave her a long look, her wide eyes were practically begging you to follow her advice. Maybe she was right. It had been a long time since you liked someone, since you let yourself let someone into your life. Maybe you did deserve to allow yourself to open up and enjoy yourself with someone.

Her hands let go of yours, giving you a smile as if she read your mind.

”Go sit with him, I’ve got it,” were her last softly spoken words before she sent you off.

You let out a deep sigh and gave her a light smile, shaking your head as if thinking ‘I can’t believe I’m listening to your love advice’, and made your way over to John. You picked up a pastry on your way over to him, on the house.

John looked up from the book as soon as he saw your figure approaching him. His face lit up, kindness shining from it. He immediately got up from his seat and reached out to help you.

At that moment you noticed that John had a thing for helping, for being of service; he couldn’t stand and watch someone else do something for him, he was the type of man that preferred to take care of others and do things for others.

“Thank you, love, I’ve got it,” he said softly with a smile as he took the plates for you and set it down on the small table in front of his chair.

You thanked him and stood beside the chair across from his, hesitant to fully sit and commit to chatting with him.

John mirrored you, standing up parallel to you as if waiting for you to sit first. Quite the gentleman. And because of that you couldn’t let the man stand like a guard, so you caved and sat down. Of course, he followed you.

You sat there for a moment and collected your thoughts before asking, “So you’ve finished the book?”

“I did, actually,” he smiled at you, his eyes locked into yours, and they’d stay there from this moment on.

“I quite liked it.” He chuckled a bit, “But it was tough to read at times so I took all of yesterday to get through it.”

So that’s why he didn’t come, you thought, he was too busy actually putting effort into reading the book you gave him.

That thought made a smirk pull at your lips.

“Thought you said you’d come for help reading!” You said slyly, and he let out another chuckle at that. You loved the feeling you got when you amused him.

“ ‘M sorry, love, didn’t want to trouble you much,” he confessed taking a sip from the cup of coffee. His words confirmed your thoughts.

He pressed his lips at the taste of the coffee. Too bitter, you noted he liked things sweet last time. And he reached for the sugar to amend his drink.

The man in front of you was a delight to watch.

“You like sweet things?” You asked, hardly noticing the fact you had spoken up.

“It’s a vice, truly, worse than smokin’ for me.” He said with a nod as he tasted it again. “We don’t get a lot of sweetness at work.”

You chuckled. “Well you should give that a try…” you gestured to the pastry you brought him, “I, erm, make them m’self.”

A light blush scattered over your cheeks as the man smiled cheekily, reaching over to take the pastry.

“I already know it’ll be good if y’made it, doll,” he quipped before taking a bite. John let out a slow hum as he chewed the bite. You’d be lying if you said your mind didn’t wonder to the dirtiest of places when you heard that sound emanate from him—you wouldn’t mind hearing more of that, really.

“Bloody good, love, fuckin’ hell,” the man sounded like it was the best thing he’d tasted, proceeding to devour the treat. You bit your lip to suppress a growing smile.

“Now you have a reason to keep coming, John,” your own words surprised you, not knowing you had the confidence to make such a comment. You practically just confessed to him that you wanted him to continue coming.

“Oh I already had a very good reason to keep comin’, doll,” his tone was flirty, and his eyes burnt through you. Did they somehow get bluer? You felt the sting of your cheeks at his comment.

You stayed there talking with John for about an hour, occasionally glancing back at your cousin to check on her. Each time she’d give you a thumbs up and a shooing motion with her hand. The store was relatively empty, so there wasn’t much need for an extra hand.

Instead, you got to spend time talking to John. You asked him about his work in the military, but he told you there wasn’t much he could say that made for good conversation. You didn’t mind, you simply cared more about getting to know the man in front of you as a person and not as much for what he did.

But he told you about the places he’d been to because of his profession, about his friends in the service and their off-duty escapades, and about his family in Herefordshire. He told you he has a dog back home, and your dog-loving self couldn’t be contained when he showed you the picture of him on his phone screen. It made him laugh how giddy you got and how your voice rose a couple octaves in excitement.

You asked him about his favorite book, he said The Wind Also Rises. And when you asked what music he listens to, he gave you a whole Spotify playlist which required him exchanging numbers with you.

By now the coffee in his cup was long gone, and a second hour had passed. Your cheeks were sore from smiling and laughing the whole time. He wouldn’t let the smile drop from your face by hitting you continuously with a mix of the cheesiest pick-up lines and the worst dad-jokes you’ve had the misfortune of hearing.

And the fact that you made him smile and laugh too made a fire kindle in your chest. It surged a warm sensation and made you feel a sense of home that you didn’t know could be brought up in you by a person.

John’s deep blue eyes were glued to you, taking you in like you were the only person in the world. And you couldn’t look away either, as if memorizing every line of his face and every pore, wrinkle, or blemish on his skin.

He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees to actively listen to you as you told him where you were originally from, how you got to co-own this place with your cousin, and how the two of you had made a business you were properly proud of. He listened with wholeheartedness and admiration, as if taking mental notes of everything you said to him, storing the information as gold coins in a treasure chest.

A third hour passed. Your mad ran dry with how much you had been talking to John. The two of you were now in a brief but pleasant silence as you took each other in.

“I really enjoy your company, love,” he broke the silence, his voice soft and earnest.

“I do too, John.”

“I’ve got to go but erm..” he inhaled, “I’d like to maybe take you out sometime.” He let out the breath he was holding, a grin on his face and a gentleness in his eyes.

“I’d like that a lot, actually,” you responded, making his face brighten even more and he gave you a pleased hum.

“ ‘M glad t’hear that,” his eyes raked over you then found their way back to yours. He looked at you for a moment before standing up to leave.

You stood with him, telling him you’d accompany him to the outside as you exchanged a few last comments.

You stood outside the shop with him on the street as he fixed his jacket back on as well as his beanie.

“So tomorrow at 8?” He asked.

“Mhm, I’ll be there,” you stood in front of him, craning your neck slightly to make eye contact with him.

He moved closer to you, standing just inches from you. You were reminded of his large stature compared to yours. His presence felt protective and warm in front of you, the cold weather felt like nothing thanks to the heat his body radiated to you.

John’s hand reached up to you, his index finger tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, with his gaze not daring to break away from yours. “I’ll see you then, love.”

The gesture made your whole body melt. You could hardly find any words to say in response. The most you could muster was a gulp and a shaky nod of your beer red head.

“See you, John,” you said, almost a whisper. And with that, he turned on his heels and went on his way. You watched him disappear down the street before heading back in.

You felt like you were in shock. Like you needed someone to pinch you awake or pull you back down to earth from heaven. Your heart couldn’t beat any faster.

It felt like every goodbye between the two of you was a door opening into another hello.

Like the void of loneliness that was opened in you that day was slowly getting filled by the warmth and comfort of John’s presence every time you got to see him.

And you couldn’t be happier about there being a third hello just a day away.

[enderpearlll]

no thoughts but.... officer reader........ police reader....

Yandere!Bob Velseb with a police officer reader.

Help i’m running out of bob gifs guys 😭 but yeah i totally forgot that i finished this OOPS

Gender-Neutral reader, but the pet name hun is used.

TW/CW: Yandere content, Bob is a creep, mentions of firearms, spoon feeding, swearing, Bob and Officer have some sort of tension that I’m not going to elaborate on, mentions of murder and cannibalism, etc…

• You were a freshly graduated police officer, having just left your hometown in pursuit of something new. When you were transferred to a station in the middle of nowhere, you didn't expect for there to be two officers working by themselves. They seemed extremely relieved to have another officer on the job, explaining that they were unbelievably underfunded. You deadpanned when they said so, already debating your new job as a police officer. You were already off to a great start.

• The two older officers were obviously overworked and tired, so you did a lot of work to help them out. You liked to multitask. You did a lot of random tasks around the station, including taking care of paperwork and the prisoners. There was one prisoner in particular that creeped the fuck out of you though... His name was Bob. Jack had told you all about him, and the more you heard about him the more you regret asking.

• When you first met him, you already knew he had an eye on you. You were supposed to do something in his cell, but you couldn't remember at all once you unlocked the door. He just kept staring at you... You flinched when he moved slightly, a sickening smile stretching over his cheeks. "Ain't you a sight to see. Come on closer, officer. I don't bite..." He cooed almost childishly, relishing in the look of fear on your face. "I know damn well you bite." You seethed, watching as he piped up with intrigue. You shook it off, doing what you needed to do before he could say anything else. He felt drool dribble down his chin, a quiet chuckle leaving his lips. Now this was going to be fun.

• Unfortunately, Bob didn't seem interested in giving you a break, scaring you whenever you stepped near his cell. You hated when he would scare you, fearful of his past. Whenever you dropped off meals, he'd tell you a morbid fact about cannibalism. Disgusting. You'd snap back or tell him to screw off, tired of his shit. Bob throughly enjoyed how feisty you were, and wanted more of you every day. You had successfully peaked his interests, which isn’t much of an achievement to be proud of. It was terrible.

• Bob would personally request for you, and you hated it. Jack and John had no choice but to send you in, since you were the only one he'd talk to. Or listen to. Or try not to kill. You remember his one time he nearly tore Jack's arm off when he tried to give him his food. They both knew better than that now, and instead placed it at the doorway. But it was the opposite for you. While Bob would threaten and taunt you, so far he hadn't even tried to get close to you. You could probably sit in his cell for hours and he wouldn't try to kill you. Not like you wanted to, though.

• Bob was a pain in the ass. You hated the yearning hunger in his eyes, trailing behind you whenever he saw you, you hated his stupid smile, and you especially hated the way he'd call you hun. First time he called you that you nearly choked on your own spit. Bob was throughly enjoying your embarrassment, noting to himself that he would do so more often.

• After that, there was a definite change in the way Bob would taunt you, it shifted from morbid and sadistic to flirty and... Well, still pretty sadistic in nature. But Bob found that he much preferred the flustered look on you more than disgust. There's just something about teasing you that's so addictive. Seeing you recoil in embarrassment as you try to shield your face from him made adrenaline rush through his veins.

• He often tries to convince you to let him out, accompanied by a smile as you squirm uncomfortably. "Come on, hun. Lemme out, I'll promise that I'll be good..." "No. Quit asking." There's always banter going on between you two, and slowly you find that Bob was warming up to you more quickly than you liked. John once snapped at you for it, calling you both an old married couple. Turns out the tension between you two was highly evident.

• One night, you had went into his cell to drop off supper. He approached you slowly, as if he was a predator trying not to scare its prey. You felt  your whole body shiver when he reached out towards you, his creepy grin growing impossibly wide. Usually he'd never even come close to you, nonetheless touch you. You panicked, grabbing your gun and dropping the tray of food. You pointed it at Bob with a shaky aim, watching as he tilted his head mockingly. He threw his hands up, watching as you ran out of the cell.

• One evening, Jack had walked out of his cell with a platter of cold, untouched food. He looked exasperated, stress evident in his eyes. You quirked an eyebrow, looking at him up and down. "What happened to you?" You asked, with Jack signing deeply. "Bob won't touch his food. He's been like this ever since he got here! He only eats enough to keep himself from starving to death." He uttered bitterly.

You frowned, walking over to the older man and taking the tray from him. "What are you doing?" He asked, looking at you with confusion. "I'm going to make that fucker eat." You spat, glaring at Bob through the metal bars. You weren't going to let that prick starve, no way. He was going to eat whether he liked it or not. You unlocked the cell, dragging a metal chair along with you. You glared daggers at him, watching as his grin grew wide with malice. "Well, hello there, officer."

• You slammed the tray on his lap, watching as he flinched at the steel tray hitting his legs. "Eat." Bob glanced at the food and then laughed at you, only making you sink into your chair and cross your arms stubbornly. "Sorry, hun, I don't eat anything you cops give me." You grunted angrily, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Don't act like a kid, Velseb. If you're going to, did you want me to treat you like one?" You spat, leaning forward and sneering at him. "Want me to feed you, freak?"

• Bob's eyes shot wide open, his grin faltering ever so slightly underneath your searing gaze. He quickly regained his composure, leaning forward so you both were nearly nose to nose. "Only if you want to, officer." He uttered, voice rumbling deep in his chest. You flushed red hot, stumbling backwards. "Huh?!" The man burst out into a fit of roaring laughter, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "You heard me." You both sat in silence for a few seconds, before you took a deep breath and met Bob's intense gaze. "...Will you actually eat if I do it?"

• Bob threw his hands up, shooting you a look of over-exaggerated sincerity. "Swear on my heart, hun." You couldn't believe you were doing this. You picked up the spoon with trembling fingers, scooping up a good amount of weird mush. You held your hand underneath so you wouldn't make a mess, leaning in close to Bob so you could shovel the food in his mouth. He leaned forward with overexcited movement, closing his eyes and opening his mouth wide with a breathless "Aah..." You swallowed thickly, guiding the spoon into his mouth.

• You kept doing so, struggling to keep your composure straight when Bob looked so... Never mind. It was silent as you fed Bob spoonful by spoonful, the most quiet that you two have been since you got here. Bob seemed disappointed when the tray was empty, huffing stubbornly as you rushed to make your leave. You couldn’t believe you just spoon fed a serial killer. Dear god, what was wrong with you?!

•You walked out with wobbly knees, your legs threatening to give out underneath you as you locked the cell door. You glanced at Bob one last time, his expression sly as he gave you a wave goodbye. You quickly looked away, cursing underneath your breath. You were a cop for crying out loud, why the hell were you so flustered by a literal murderer?!

• You walked into the staff room, slamming the tray into the sink. You startled both Jack and John, who both looked at you with concern. "So... Did he actually eat?" The moustached officer asked, taking a sip of his coffee. You rubbed your eyes, exhaling deeply. "Yep." They both glanced at you then shrugged, continuing to mind their own business. You went to your office, slouching into your chair and staring at the doorway. What was he doing to you?

[gt-jar]

Two Worlds among the Stars

7. CHAPTER

<- previous | next ->

Word count: 4.125

The next time Noah woke up everything hurt. His entire body was aching. He was hoping it was just the consequence of his escape attempt yesterday, but his throat was just as sore as his muscles, and his head felt like he had run straight into a brick wall. There was no denying it, he was sick.

Great, that's exactly what he needed right now.

He lifted his head from his knees, only now noticing how stiff his neck was. Sleeping the entire night in a sitting position on a wooden table was definitely not one of his best ideas. But Noah was nothing, if not stubborn. And he had gotten his message across last night, so it was worth it. Maybe it finally went through the man's thick skull that he could shove his hypocrisy somewhere else. Speaking of which, where was that guy?

One look around showed that the giant wasn't sleeping in his bed anymore, Noah couldn't hear him either, which meant he wasn't nearby.

Just like that his morning felt a tiny bit less horrible.

Hopefully he would be gone for a while, Noah certainly wasn't in the mood for any talking, and with how great things were going for him at the moment the man surely was going to say something like “deserves you right for running away” or “it's your own fault that you're sick now”.

Not that he would be wrong. Just thinking about yesterday sent shivers down his back. All things considered, he was pretty lucky that he got off lightly with just a cold. Things could have ended a lot worse. But the last thing he needed right now was a lecture. His head was killing him already and he would like to avoid making it worse.

Noah let his head drop on his knees and closed his eyes again, maybe his headache would lessen like this. The position may be extremely uncomfortable, and he sure as hell wasn't doing his neck a favor, but it wasn't like he had better options right now. With the giant gone he was stuck on the table after all.

He still very much preferred the current peace over getting to the pillow on the man's nightstand. At least that's what he told himself.

He must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing he knew was that he woke up to a snapping sound. Noah forced his eyes to open, and sure enough the giant was snapping his fingers in front of his face. Why couldn't he just leave him alone?

“You okay, kid?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

“Sure, why wouldn't I be?” Noah answered, his voice involuntary taking on a defensive tone. Sure, he felt even worse than before, but that didn't mean he wanted to rub it in the man's face. If Noah was smart about it, the man wouldn't even notice that he was sick. Miss Harris never did either.

John didn't look convinced though. But as long as he would drop the matter, Noah didn't really care. He didn't have to believe him, Noah just wanted him to stop bothering him. Just until he felt better. Was that really too much to ask for?

“If you say so,” the man said.

He still eyed him suspiciously, but took a seat, so Noah counted it as a win, “how about some breakfast then? I'm sure you're hungry.”

Just like yesterday he prepared a plate with bread and jelly for the teen, pushing it half way between them. Noah already knew what was coming next and gritted his teeth in frustration.

“If you can sit with me to fool me, you can do it today as well,” he tapped his finger beside the plate, prompting him to come closer, “And remember, I'm not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

Noah flexed his fingers, pretty much everything else felt sore. He braced his hands on the table, before pushing himself up. Just standing up made him dizzy, but he pushed through it. His legs felt so weak, like they had no bones in them to support his weight. He made his way over to the food, every step was exhausting him further. Noah just prayed that the man would leave him alone after this. Unfortunately, the spinning in his head only got worse, everything was starting to blurry. He had no control over his body and before he knew it he was falling towards the table.

Before he could hit the hard surface though, a pair of large hands caught him. His arms and legs were swinging and kicking, trying to find out where up and down was. He tensed when something cold touched his head. He realized that John's thumb was pressing against his forehead, and that's when he heard a hiss from above.

“When exactly were you going to tell me that you have a fever?” The man didn't sound too happy about the fact that Noah had tried to hide his sickness from him. Noah didn't understand why it was such a deal though.

“Why would I? It's just a fever. It's not like I haven't dealt with those on my own before. I can take care of myself.”

Noah swore the man looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it.

Good for him.

Instead he huffed, and pulled him close as he walked over to his bed. As Noah was cradled against John's chest he realized just how cold he was.

Damn fever.

The desire to lean into the warmth the man's body was providing was almost unbearable. That guy was basically a living furnace! Thankfully, before he could do something really stupid, he was placed on the pillow that served as his bed.

Then John placed the plate with his breakfast and a thimble filled with water beside him on the nightstand.

“Get some sleep while I'm gone, and please do me a favor and try to eat something. I'll be back soon” After that he walked out the cave, probably to “work” as he called it.

For once Noah was too weak to argue and lied back down. John finally left him alone. That's what he had wanted after all.

Right?

John ended his patrol earlier than usual. There was no need to drag this out, after the show he pulled off, John doubted there would be any trespassers any time soon. And besides, he wasn't truly focused on his work anyway. His thoughts were somewhere else, worry clouding his mind, distracting him. To go home was an easy decision, the kid's well being was more important than his patrol right now.

When he got home, Noah was fast asleep, his breathing shallow and uneven. His blanket had slipped down a little in his sleep, so John pinched the hem between his fingers and pulled it up to Noah's chin again, carefully tucking the blanket around his shoulders. From the looks of it, the kid hadn't touched his food. Nor the water.

This wasn't good.

Neither of them had eaten last night, which meant the kid had skipped two meals already. John may not know much about humans, but this couldn't be healthy. Noah was already awfully light, even for a human, barely weighing anything to him. He needed to eat. And even John knew that it was important to drink enough fluids, when you were running a fever.

Ever since the village incident, John kept messing up. First losing his temper, and now the kid was sick, which was partly his fault. As if their situation wasn't bad enough as it was already. He could have avoided this, if he just made sure that Noah had properly dried himself off last night, instead of giving him a lecture. That could have easily waited until the next morning. John sighed, there was no point in dwelling on things that couldn't be undone, he needed to focus on the important things. Right now the kid needed his help, no matter what he claimed. And John was determined not to mess things up this time.

But who was he kidding, how could he not mess this up? He had no idea how to take care of a sick child, let alone a human child! He himself rarely got sick. What was he supposed to do? What if he accidentally made it worse? Okay no, overthinking wouldn't help Noah. Right now the kid was sleeping, which was probably good. Rest was good. What else? Right, basic needs. Noah still needed to eat.

John tried to remember what his mom used to cook, when he and his sister were sick. She always made them something that was easy on the stomach and didn't require much chewing. So he started to make soup.

The moment he wanted to throw the cut vegetables in the pot, a coughing fit startled him.

When he looked over his shoulder, Noah was sitting up, his body hunched over and cramped up. Coughs rattling his entire body. This probably was more than just painful to watch. John walked over to his nightstand and kneeled down beside it. His intention was to rub Noah's back to help him through his coughing fit, but when his fingers as much as brushed his back, the kid recoiled from contact as if his fingers had burned him. The boy sent him the nastiest glare John had seen in all their time together. He put his hands up to show that he meant no harm. Not that it had worked the last times he had tried to convince the kid that there was no need to be afraid. But hey! At least the coughing had stopped.

“Would you drop the act already?!”

John, for the first time truly oblivious to what the kid meant, asked, “What act?”

“Don't play dumb with me! You know exactly what I'm talking about! Stop pretending to be so nice!”

“What makes you think I’m pretending to be nice?”

“Oh, let me think. First of all, you have been terrorizing my village for fucking ages. And did you forget that I saw how you acted back at my village? How you threatened us. And now you want me to believe that you're a good guy? I don't know what you're hoping to achieve with this, but it won't work. So stop it.”

Well, the kid had a point.

John debated his next words. If he wanted the kid to believe him, when he said he didn't need to be afraid, he had to tell him the truth. Hopefully he won't regret his decision later.

“Okay, you got me, I was pretending,” before Noah could say anything about being right, John continued, “but I'm not pretending right now. I'm gonna be honest with you, this whole… big bad giant thing, how I acted at your village, that was just an act.” Noah made no move to Interrupt him, which he took as a good sign.

“I know you probably don’t believe me, but you're a smart boy. You probably figured out already that I'm just a normal guy. Except for my size there is nothing really special about me. And you're old enough to know that I didn't just… poof into existence.

I’m not the only giant. I have family. Friends. There’re a lot of other giants out there. And all these tales about us, that humans spread over the years, they are just a scheme to scare you off. We’re not blood-thirsty monsters, but… we pretend that we are, because it's the only thing that keeps us safe from you-”

“Safe? From us? You're kidding, right? What on earth could someone my size possibly do to threaten a fucking giant?” Noah barked.

“Kid, where do you think I got these from?” He pointed at his scars, “One human may not be able to do much damage, but numbers can make a big difference. And humans, who think their lives are at risk, are not known for their great decision making. You experienced that first-hand.”

“I'm sorry you got dragged into this. I truly am. I wasn't thinking when I took you with me, but I had to play along. I'm just trying to protect my kind.” John said, hoping Noah would understand.

“I'm not asking you to trust me and I'm not trying to gain anything from this, but please let me help you, at least until you're feeling better. You're more than welcome to go back to hating me after that. Just-”

“Could you just leave me alone?” Noah grumbled, no longer looking at him.

John sighed and stood up. This went as well as expected. But he knew he wouldn't achieve anything by force. All he could do was give Noah the time and space he needed and hope for the best.

Not much later, the soup was ready. John took a spoon and tasted it. It was not as good as he remembered it, but it was pretty decent, if you asked him. His mom would be impressed.

He went back to his nightstand to get Noah, who was asleep once again. John couldn't help but frown. The kid looked even smaller, curled up under the blanket like this.

So fragile.

Like he could actually break, if John wasn't careful. Instead of waking him up or picking him up, he carefully slid his hands under the pillow and carried it with Noah on top over to the table, where his meal already waited for him. The poor kid wasn't even aware of it.

Now came the hard part.

John sat down and gently nudged Noah's shoulder with his knuckle. Noah stirred a little but didn't wake up.

“Time to wake up, kid,” he whispered and nudged the kid again.

Thankfully, the boy's baby blue eyes finally blinked open. They were all glazed over, a far cry from the sharp gaze the kid usually had. It made something inside John's chest squeeze.

“Hey, I made you soup,” John said in a hushed tone.

“Not hungry” Noah mumbled and wanted to roll over, but John couldn't let him do that.

“Hey, none of that, you need to eat, if you wanna get better.”

John slipped his hand under Noah's back and guided him into a sitting position. He didn't pull his hand away though, the man doubted that the boy had enough strength to sit up on his own, with the way he was leaning against his palm.

“Work with me here, kid. Just a few spoons and then you can go back to sleep,” John scooped up some broth with his other hand and brought the spoon to Noah's lips. But all Noah did was turn his head away. John wondered if the boy was just trying to be difficult or if it was really this bad.

“Noah, you need to eat. Please,” John subconsciously started to rub Noah's shoulder with his thumb.

“And then you'll leave me alone?” At this moment Noah looked so much younger than fifteen. With his bleary eyes and frail voice. If John hadn't been worried before, he definitely would be now.

“Yeah, promise.” John gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. After another moment of hesitation, Noah finally opened his mouth.

“There we go,” John murmured, being visibly relieved about finally getting the kid to eat something. The process continued for a few minutes, with John whispering soft praises. He was able to feed Noah a few spoons, before the boy stopped to open his mouth, signaling that he had enough. He didn't eat much, but it was better than nothing. A few drops of broth dribbled down Noah's chin and John used the pad of his thumb to gently whip it away. The boy didn't even try to bat it away. At this point the poor kid could barely keep his eyes open.

John slowly lowered his hand down onto the pillow and pulled it out underneath Noah's back. As soon as his head hit the pillow the boy was out like a light again.

The man tucked him back in and let him sleep. Sleeping was probably the best for him right now. John debated on carrying the kid back to the nightstand, but decided against it. This way he could keep a better eye on the kid.

While Noah slept, John spent the rest of the day working on his newest little project, glancing over to where the human was laying from time to time. The piece of wood slowly but surely shaping into what he had in mind. Sure, he could be more productive, but John didn't have the heart to leave the sick child alone. He wanted to be nearby just in case he needed something, when he woke up.

He knew that it was very unlikely, but it was a possibility.

John had thought the silence would be a welcomed change, but it had the exact opposite effect. It filled him with dread. He would prefer it, if Noah kept insulting and glaring at him, if that meant the kid was feeling better. Seeing Noah being so still made him uneasy.

He glanced over again and saw that the kid was silently watching him, his eyes half-lidded, but awake nonetheless.

“Hey there, sleepy head. That cold took its toll on you, huh?” John looked at him with a sad smile.

“Been worse,” Noah said even though that was a complete and utter lie, he couldn't remember the last time he felt this awful.

He flinched when the man reached for him and placed his thumb on his forehead to feel his temperature again.

“Shh, I'm just checking.”

Maybe John was just imagining things, but to him it seemed like Noah was warmer than this morning. No wonder he was sleeping so much.

The man didn't pull his hand back right away. Instead he brushed his thumb over Noah's head a few times, almost tenderly stroking the hair out of his face. “See, everything is okay.”

Against Noah's will his eyes started to water, so he closed them. He couldn't remember the last time someone touched his head not to strike him. The gentle strokes felt so… good. Almost soothing his headache away. He could fall asleep like this.

But then the comforting touch was gone again.

Noah blamed his current state for wanting it back. How childish of him to even think such a thing. The fever was starting to mess with his head. Noah hoped this wouldn't last long.

“You can say it, y'know?” The boy rolled onto his back, so he didn't have to see John's face.

“Say what?”

“That it deserves me right for running away.” Noah just wanted to get this conversation out of the way.

There was a pause, then a sigh.

“Noah, believe it or not, but I don't enjoy seeing you like this. I really do want to help you. Here how about this, what would you usually do when you're sick?

“Working,” Noah answered dryly.

“You're kidding, right?” Noah's dead-pan expression told him otherwise.

“But didn't you say you're fifteen? I know I'm not a human expert, but I'm sure children aren't supposed to work.”

Noah scoffed at that.

“So? Money was always tight at the orphanage. And Miss Harris used to say, if I wasn't gonna be adopted, I could at least make myself useful.”

“Why would she say that?” The man asked quietly. Softly.

Noah let out a humorless laugh “Who would want a brat like me?” He almost wanted to turn his head to see the man's face, but decided it wasn't worth it. Then he added in a much softer voice, “And besides… I’m too old to be adopted anyway. People want the little kids, y’know the cute ones.” And with that he rolled over, signaling that their conversation was over.

Later that night, John was still sitting at the table, watching over Noah. Usually he went to bed relatively early, but worry kept him wide awake. His assumption had been correct. Noah's fever got worse. Through the day he had been drifting in and out of consciousness. Right now it seemed like he had settled in for the night, although it looked far from a peaceful slumber. The boy was curled up into a little ball and his brow was knitted in discomfort.

But that wasn't what had John worried.

In addition to the fever, Noah had started to have chills around noon, shivering under his blanket like a withered leaf in the wind, even after John had put more wood into the fire. It even seemed like the shivering just got worse the more time went by. John was running out of ideas. He couldn't just go to bed and leave the kid like this. Then an idea crossed his mind. Maybe it was stupid, but it couldn't hurt to try.

John gently rubbed Noah's shoulder to see if he would wake up. Luckily, the kid remained asleep. John took a breath and carefully scooped Noah up in his hand, who was not happy about being disturbed and the loss of his blanket. The kid started to stir, a quiet whimper escaping him. John quickly shushed him, silently praying that Noah wouldn't wake up. “Shh, I know, I know. Just sleep, everything is okay.” Thankfully that seemed to work and Noah settled down again. John just hoped it stayed that way, because there was no way the kid would let him do this if he was awake.

John placed the boy in the crook of his arm, if the fire wasn't working, maybe body heat would. Just when he pulled his hand away, Noah's face scrunched up. John wanted to kick himself for thinking this would work, an excuse already forming on his lips, but to John's surprise Noah didn't wake up.

No, quite the opposite actually. He rolled over, now facing John's torso, and curled up. John didn't dare to move. Or breath. He let a few moments pass to see if the kid really wasn't going to wake up. But even after several minutes Noah remained asleep.

This was… unexpected.

Unfortunately, the kid was still shivering. But maybe if he…? John knew he was pushing his luck, but still lowered his hand again, cupping it behind Noah's back, providing warmth from both sides. Absent-mindedly John started to stroke his thumb over Noah's back. Soon the shivering stopped and for the first time Noah's body seemed to relax, his troubled expression slowly melting away, and turning into something softer, still not fully relaxed but much more at ease.

It was hard to believe that this boy was the same one that had yelled at him yesterday. The boy had never let his guard down. Always ready to fight or flight. Always on alert. It made John's heart sink, that this was the only time the kid was this calm around him.

It was easy to forget just how young Noah was. But right now you could see past the mask he was wearing. With him being sick and John holding him like this. The man being well aware that he was holding Noah in a way someone would hold a child much younger than him.

He was just a kid. A kid that went through a lot already.

There was this tight feeling inside his chest again, but he ignored it.

Just when John wanted to relax now that the shivering had stopped, the kid began to move again.

The man, already fearing the worst, prepared himself to be cussed out.

Imagine his surprise when all the kid did was nestle closer to him, burying himself deeper into the warmth. And to top it off he grabbed his shirt in a loose fist and let out a content little sigh.

For a moment everything stilled.

John couldn't believe that really just happened. The kid was seriously snuggling up to him, even if it was just to seek warmth. Or maybe there was more to it.

But now was not the time to think about it.

Instead John went back to stroking Noah's back, while his shocked face turned into a fond smile. Under different circumstances he would consider this the most adorable thing he has seen in his entire life. But he knew if it weren't for Noah's bad state of health, this would have never happened. The kid still hated his guts.

And yet…

“And you say you're not cute,” John chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

The man leaned back in his chair, making himself more comfortable. Looks like he was going to sit here a little longer.

Though, John found that he didn't really mind.

Taglist: @da3dm @himbogiants @coffehbeans @mehs-mini-magic

[mangoguy]

Displacement (2/2)

John "Soap" MacTavish('09) x Reader x John "Soap" MacTavish('22)

Warnings: Mentions of character death (Ghost and Roach), no y/n used, no pronouns other than they/them used a few of times.

You can't help but find it difficult to get used to your new surroundings.

_

It's finally here!!! I meant for this to be out a week after the first part, but school got busy lmao

Read the first part here

There are a few things you have noticed after being thrown in here.

One, the year is 2023.

Two, You are married to John (or Johnny as he likes being called) in this timeline.

And three, you don’t work in the military, you are no longer with Task Force 141.

That third one hit particularly hard. Your task force was a huge part of your life along with John.

You faked memory loss, thinking it was a smart move for now. You doubted they would even believe you if you started spouting that you were not from here. Even to you, that sounded crazy.

‘Because it is…’ you thought bitterly.

This universe wasn't in World War III, you weren't complaining though, that was the mission after all. You still had a hard time adjusting, especially with him around, Johnny. The man who wears your husband's face. Well, you guessed you're even… since technically you were wearing his wife's face? That's how you saw it anyway.

He was worried about you, often asking if you were okay. You could never really answer him, just stare and nod. You felt so foreign here, out of place, and you missed John so much it made you ill. You wondered what happened to him? Was he okay? Something told you he wasn’t. With where your mind was going this was going to be a long hospital stay…

It's been two months since you've woken up. Your mind convinced you it was some weird coma dream.

‘People have those, don't they?’ You thought, staring out the living room window. You felt silly mourning the loss of some older version of yourself and Johnny. It was morbid of your brain to think of how Ghost would die, or mourn the loss of two others you ‘barely knew.’ You found it funny how Price looked in your dream, older, a little unhinged. Gaz was what scared you the most in terms of dream Gaz, you didn't want to think about it.

You met them briefly, Task Force 141, Johnny's teammates, and friends. They all seemed very concerned about you, maybe even a little guilty like they caused the accident. You assured them you were fine and mentioned that the doctors said you were healing quite nicely.

“Aye, but they… have memory loss, can't remember a damn thing… the doctor said it looks severe,” Johnny spoke in a hushed whisper when you went off to fetch something.

“They can't remember anything?” Kyle spoke.

“Yeah, and I'm talkin’ like their whole life, it's like they're a new person… Can't even remember our weddin’ day, our first meetin’, or… anythin’” Johnny could feel his heartbreak just speaking it out loud. A painful reminder of what happened, he thought maybe someone was punishing him. Probably was, for the things he's done. He gave a deep sigh, as Kyle gave him a reassuring pat on the back. Price and Simon both frowned, giving the Scot a sympathetic look, that's when you decided to enter the room again.

“Bonnie yer… are ye okay? Ye've been starin’ out the window for a while…” you heard Johnny speak softly. You turned to look at him, nodding your head softly.

“Yeah sorry, just… I guess I'm reminiscing on some weird dream I had while in that coma,” you admitted.

“Hm? Dream ye say? Do ye want tae talk about it?” John sat near you on the couch and pulled you into his arms. It was comforting being in his embrace.

“Hm, not much to say other than… I guess I just dreamt of a whole other life for us? You were there, though you were a bit older… definitely more handsome in my dream,” you gave him a cheeky grin.

“Looks like I've got some competition,” he paused to chuckle softly. “But older you say? Were ye dreaming of tae future or somethin’?” Johnny asked.

“Hm, you could say that… though there are differences in dream John and you in real life.”

“Aye… and what's that?”

“Well for one he was a bit taller than you,” you snickered.

“Aye!”

“And well he didn't have an arm tattoo, like you do he had one on his neck, a revolver,” you paused to think, your mind was getting a little muddy on details.

“Oh! And your scars are different, that's all I seem to remember at the moment...” you finished. Johnny was silent for a moment, absorbing this new information. It was nice hearing you talk again, even if it was about this mysterious other version of himself.

“Damn, sounds like one handsome bastard…”

“Johnny…”

“What I'm bein’ serious,” he muses.

Something weird was going on, you couldn't place your finger on it. It all started with a pair of jeans. What scared you was that you vaguely recalled wearing them somewhere. You placed them down on the floor and stared at them.

‘Of course, I wore them somewhere they're pants…’ You thought, thinking it was silly you were worried about jeans. You shook your head, grabbing them off the floor but that's when something slipped out from the pocket. One fell with a hard thunk and the other fluttered to the ground. You pick them both up. One was a simple wedding band on it was an engraving, two sets of dates

xx-xx-‘07

xx-xx-‘09

The other item made your heart drop in your stomach. Time seemed to stop as familiar sets of eyes were on you. John Price, Ghost, John “Soap” MacTavish, you. In the corner of the photo were the words ‘OP Kingfish.’

This was it.

The evidence that your ‘coma dream’ wasn't a dream after all. How could you think it was a dream? How dare this world make you think your John was a dream, your world. You assumed it was the universe trying to make you ‘fit in,’ but that begs the question, how did your stuff get here? You shoved the ring and photo in your pocket as you heard Johnny walking over to where you were.

“Hey Bonnie, are you almost done gettin’ ready? Simon texted saying he was at the bar already,” Johnny watched you as you put the jeans back in the closet.

“Yeah I'm ready, can't keep the man waiting,” you smiled though it didn't reach your eyes.

While watching Ghost and Johnny converse you felt the ring and photo through your pocket for the tenth time. You worried they would disappear and yet they never did. You stood up from your seat, getting the attention of the two men at the table.

“Just heading to the bathroom,” you spoke, walking towards the small hallway that housed the restrooms. You entered, taking a quick breather, your emotions were everywhere tonight. It was starting to annoy you, if you were being honest all you wanted was to just relax and enjoy the evening…

Even it felt fake.

Doing your business and leaving the bathroom, you noticed Johnny had a conflicting look. But when you approached he smiled at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you sat down.

“Everything okay?” You asked and he nodded, though you noticed it was stiff.

You ended up drinking, not a lot but enough to get a bit tipsy. You barely remember the car ride home, though here you are, in bed and snuggled into the blankets. You were reaching out towards Johnny’s spot but found he was not on his side of the bed. It’s cold, meaning he was gone for a while. You slowly sat up, groaning from a slight headache. You called out for him but didn’t hear an answer. You got out of bed and walked towards the living room, spotting him sitting on the couch with the table lamp on. He was staring at something, upon closer look it was the photo, your photo with your team. Your John.

You blinked once, then twice.

When did he get that?

Shit.

“What are you doing with that?” You asked, slightly on the defence.

“What am I doin’ with it? What are ye doing with this? What am I even lookin’ at?” He asked, looking over at you his expression inconceivable.

“It's… complicated Johnny, you probably wouldn't understand.”

He went quiet after that, rubbing his face in frustration, he then stared at the photo again. You needed to figure out where to go from here. You bit the inside of your cheek in thought.

“So, are ye from the future or somethin? Because that's what it looks like… we all look older in this photo… Plus why the hell are you in this photo anyway?” Johnny spoke up finally after a long silence.

“No… it's complicated…”

“Then enlighten me!” You could hear him getting frustrated.

“Fine… I'm… not from here, I don't know how to explain it! One moment I was someplace else then the next thing I know I'm here, in Scotland… In a hospital with someone who looks like my husband but isn't!” you didn't mean to sound so harsh, but all your feelings were bursting out.

“But I am yer husband, didn't you tell me ye were dreamin’ while in that coma?” Johnny tried reasoning.

“I lied, at first I thought maybe it was all a dream but how do you explain the photo and this? I know for a fact I wasn't dreaming I had a completely different life,” You pulled out the ring, showing him the engraved dates.

He stared at the ring, at the dates that were engraved then at the photo. He seemed a bit distant, thinking, processing.

“Is that why whenever I look at ye… It feels like I've lost someone… lost my Bonnie,” Johnny lamented. You were caught off guard by that. But you couldn't deny that you also felt a huge loss whenever you thought of John. The two of you stayed silent, grieving but didn't want to think about why. You refused to think your John didn't survive that explosion.

“I… guess you could say I'm from an alternate universe, god… that's even more confusing but makes the most sense” you decided to change the subject. Johnny finally looked up at you, his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Aye… that sounds crazy… maybe-” he didn't finish his sentence but you knew he was probably still trying to find a reasonable answer. You couldn't blame him and this is exactly the reason you didn't bring it up. You decided to take a different approach.

“That photo was taken on a joint mission with Task Force 141 and Delta force, we were going after this guy named Vladimir Makarov, Intel claimed he was in this facility in Ukraine but he wasn't and it ended up being a trap… That's when John or my Soap, I guess I should say, got injured and Price was captured,” you explained. You were starting to sweat a bit, speaking that mission out loud sounded insane. It sure did catch Johnny's attention though. A dark look crossed his face at the mention of Vladimir Makarov but it quickly faded.

“Huh…” was all Johnny managed to get out, it was a hell of a story. You could tell he needed more convincing.

“Well, one person in that photograph isn't alive… Ghost, along with another member Roach were shot by a man named Shepherd…” Your eyebrows furrowed and you frowned deeply.

“Betrayed by him and his shadow company…” you seethed. That seemed to make Johnny perk up. From the looks of it, that story of yours seemed to hit a little too close to home. He gave you a thoughtful look albeit a concerned look.

“Well, shite… that just all but confirms your theory… But the question remains why are ye here? And how come yer body in yer time stayed there?”

“I don't know… it's not like I have the answers. I was literally on a mission to assassinate Makarov but then an explosion went off behind us and I ended up in that hospital.” You explained.

“Ye know… that sounds similar to what happened to my spouse, well they didn't work in the military but there was an accident that involved both me and them, they ended up taking most of the damage which is why they put you in a coma… but you already knew that,” he mumbled that last part.

“I wonder if that's related… but that still doesn't explain why I'm here…” You crossed your arms, sitting opposite from him on the couch. You stared at your reflection on the TV for a moment, observing your new skin, you often didn't look at yourself for too long. You found it troublesome and dare you say uncanny.

This whole situation was confusing, but you found some comfort now that Johnny knew and seemed to believe you. You did grow fond of him over the couple of months you've been here. It was slow, sure, unfairly comparing him to your John but you quickly came to realize that although they might share the same name and hair- they were different. That also made you realize something else though, something unpleasant.

"Johnny… I understand if you want me to leave, I am technically wearing your spouse's face..." you suddenly spoke. Johnny turned to look at you with a bewildered look on his face, silently asking if you were for real.

“That's a way to put it…” he mumbled with a long pause before speaking again, "...But I don't want you to leave."

"...Why?" It was your turn to be bewildered now.

"Well, is it bad I still want to be with ye? I know you aren't the version of my Bonnie I married but... you're still you whether you're fighting in the big fight or here making the house a home... I loved you in both timelines,” he suddenly proclaimed, bringing a hand over to caress your cheek. There was hope that maybe this could work.

That couldn't be a bad idea.

The universe brought the two of you together for a reason.

Words: 2,337

[blitz0hno]

Why I'm Voting Inno Mikoto even tho He Definitely Did It

or should I say DID i-*🏏smacked*

TL;DR like many I do not believe a word John says, but I also don't think he has the entire truth. Meanwhile Mikoto's amnesia is near undoubtable. With two unreliable narrators and solid evidence of self-defense, I think we need more before declaring him guilty.

I'm here to be Mikoto's lawyer cuz John ily but you suck at it 😭

Now onto why I'm voting Inno:

Mikoto isn't lying when he says he doesn't remember murdering those people, at least not entirely. The memory is in his subconscious, but he can't even remember the faces of his victims because they were both so out of it.

I believe what we see in MeMe is safe to assume to be his first. The first mannequin smashed onscreen is this one:

That looks like a damn FNAF jumpscare lmao this tells me that his baseball hobby probably saved him from getting jumped at that train station, but it came at a heavy price.

That's where John comes in. To handle the feelings that undoubtedly came with taking a life and having to hide the evidence.

Generally in DID alter's memories fall into one of 3 categories (my observations of myself and other systems):

That event happened. These are all the details. I feel nothing about it.

That event happened and I remember everything I felt like it was seconds ago, but I couldn't tell you specifics

That event happened??

The latter two can safely be assigned to John and Bokukoto. The first one is what we're missing.

I saw someone point out how the train could symbolize that he can never go back (credit urself in the tags if u see this it was a good one) to before he killed.

That brings me to our final scene.

Remember how John split to handle the feelings of that stressor? The feeling of unsafety, pure adrenaline, and righteous anger at the attacker is a horrific thing, but once you experience it you change. In order for an alter to handle the reality of something, it must be accepted somehow. John's way of accepting it is not remembering their faces, only his expressions and actions. That's probably why he's so aggressive; constant fight-or-flight mode.

Mikoto (Bokukoto), like with whatever happened to him in early childhood to cause DID, is unable to accept these realities because doing so would shatter his world (it turns out constant fight-or-flight isn't great for your social life).

So about John's statement that he didn't know any of the victims even though he totally did, at least a little;

John is reading the room and there it is: unsafety, pure adrenaline, and righteous anger at the attacker. That's all he needs to feel to know that it's time to protect Mikoto.

That's not the face and mannerisms of a man who bashes skulls in for kicks. This shit was personal.

I can't tell if it's one or two victims in the second clip here, but I strongly believe they had something to do with his work. His subconscious is really harping on how much his boss got on him and how stressed it made him. Something happened that pushed them over the edge. You don't call your mom after you kill for fun (or maybe you do idk). You call your mom when you know you're fucked.

John initiated the second killing but I don't think he was the only one making a conscious decision. That said, I don't have enough details to condemn Mikoto to another unforgiven verdict.

So, where will we find that info? Well remember RGB Mikoto/Trikoto theory (kudos to whoever coined those too)? Well when I broke down the compartmentalization earlier I hinted that there's a strong chance that SOMEONE remembers every detail, but feels nothing and lays dormant.

Good old green Mikoto, the only one we haven't seen speak yet the one who's given us the most detail so far (via MeMe).

Even if not and Bokukoto remembers more than he's letting on/gets in contact with John, the crime itself isn't unforgivable beyond a shadow of a doubt yet even with multiple victims. His reasons are still cloudy.

Also I like him

[oboetemasuka]

Order of Attack, part 14

When you thought you were saving someone, but you were only doing them harm.

Amane visits Fuuta yet again, while Es interrogates Mikoto. If these events are concurrent, wouldn't it be more poetic?

Huge thanks to @lostxmelody and @laniemae for the pointers on the John section.

We're really almost done here... I've already got Kotoko's half-a-VD written out, just waiting for proofreading. Then one chapter left after that. (not counting side stories)

(cw cults, suicidal thoughts, self harm)

-

"Kajiyama Fuuta, how are-" Amane stopped in her tracks when she got a good look at Fuuta's face. His eyes were so dull, almost sunken in. Eyebags went down his face as far as they could. If she thought he couldn't have looked any more lifeless before, she was proven wrong now.

"Constant pain… as always. But fine… it'll be worth…" he groaned.

She had told him as much, so why did she feel so wrong? "Are you really okay with that?"

"Why not? …better than numbing… to obliv…" His words were so much more strained than before.

"You don't sound okay…" 

"…fine… be over soon…" Over? He couldn't mean-

"Hold on, let me get-" Get who? Certainly not the doctor sleeping in the corner. What about Yuno or Mahiru, then?

"No need… can manage… my own…"

This wasn't right. But who was Amane to steal a trial?

"I'm sorry for being so worried, but it feels like things are going horribly, horribly wrong."

"All accord… …plan… …you said… " Fuuta mumbled.

Amane did say those things before, didn't she? So why did it feel so bad to have them echoed back at her?

"What about you, though? What do you want?"

"…like… …was said… stay course… perish…"

"Perish!?"

"Something wrong…?"

Yes, everything was wrong. What had she gotten him into? How was she supposed to respond to her own words?

"Amane… what do… want… for me… follow… …light…"

"I… I don't know what I want," she admitted. "But it isn't this!" Tears streamed from her eye. She made no effort to hide them. "Fuuta-san, I don't want you to die…"

Fuuta's eyes were closed. He was… definitely asleep. Did he hear what she said?

Amane glanced at Shidou. She didn't want to get him, but honestly, he was the only one who knew how to help. She could just claim she was about to leave; waking Shidou up was the responsible thing to do so as not to leave Fuuta alone. She wouldn't say anything about their conversation, just let Shidou figure out what was wrong and do his job. She would just turn a blind eye and pretend she didn't know what he would do.

She hoped Fuuta would be okay.

——

Mikoto tugged the chains and laughed nervously. "Dangerous? Me? Warden-kun, you make funny jokes."

Es was sure the look on their face was the opposite of joking. "I know you're not clueless… or am I wrong?"

"You're so mean," Mikoto responded with a chuckle. "Though… I think I know what you're referring to." He swept his hair to one side in contemplation. "It's about Koto-chan, isn't it?"

Es nodded.

"I honestly don't remember beyond what the others told me. I just woke up and saw Fuuta and Amane horribly injured, with Shidou-san looking over them. I was hurting too, but they obviously needed help more."

Only now did Es realize that the attacks impacted Mikoto as well. "So did you eventually get help?"

"Oh, I didn't. It seems everyone is afraid of me, so I don't want to bother them. It's so strange. They say my actions saved Amane's life… That's like calling me an unsung hero to my face. It hurts, you know?" Yet he still said that with a smile.

"That must feel bad, indeed," Es replied flatly.

"Warden-kun, you're so cold. Everyone is. They won't even let me visit after what happened with Fuuta, apparently. I don't even remember what happened!" There was a crack in his voice.

"What are you getting at?"

"It's so lonely here. I can't visit anyone, and nobody visits me." Mikoto rested his chin on his hand. "Haru-kun was the last person to visit, and that was so long ago."

Es felt bad for Mikoto, but that didn't change what a liability he was.

They also felt bad for how they were about to steer the conversation.

-

"You scared of me?" The newly named John growled.

"Why should I be? You did get folded by Kotoko."

"Psh, she just caught me off guard. This time, I got the jump on her."

"I don't know… based on what I heard, the fight was a draw."

"Which means I didn't lose."

"Tell me, what were you doing in Fuuta's cell in the first place?"

"What's it to you?"

"I want to get a sense of your motivations."

"Hah, my motivations? Isn't it obvious?"

"Answer the question."

"So I tell you a sob story, and you forgive 'me'?"

"Answer the question, John."

John huffed. "It was all to protect 'me'. When I heard the scream, I thought that 'I' would be next. I went to seek out the threat so it wouldn't get the jump on me."

"You went all the way from across the panopticon?"

John shrugged. "It's best to stop threats early."

"I see. You had excellent timing."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You saved Amane's life, you know."

"Good for her." John clearly couldn't care less. Of course it wasn't about Amane. It was about Mikoto.

"Then would you say you've done a good job protecting the one you meant to protect?"

"The hell are you asking me about?"

"Mikoto has been ostracized because of your actions."

"My actions? All I was doing was keeping 'me' safe. You're the ones who put 'me' in this hellhole!"

"I had no hand in bringing anyone to MILGRAM."

"But you didn't forgive 'me'. That was the tipping point."

"I can't say I had any reason to judge otherwise. The footage was really incriminating."

"That was my doing," John said immediately, eyes wide with desperation. "I got us into MILGRAM." And he was ready to plead with Es to get them out.

[vivi-in-the-sky-with-diamonds]

I Want To Hold Your Hand (Valentine's Day with the Beatles)

(Source)

Happy Valentine's Day, loves! I still have absolutely no inspiration to write (lmao) but seeing as it's the day of love (my pfp is finally in season), I felt like we needed something on here. So, I'm writing this on the fly, in the Walmart parking lot while I use their wifi to sync my OneDrive (as I said before, no wifi at home ew). Written on tumblr, one proofread through because we die like real men here. Enjoy!

John:

John more than likely forgot what day it was

Lucky for him, he remembered about three days before and bought you gifts

His favourite things to give you are flowers and chocolate (the one thing he's traditional on)

"Johnny, guess what day it is?" you say

He stands there with a vacant expression for a moment

"Is it your birthday?"

"No, John" (unless you actually were born on Valentine's Day lol)

He thinks for a moment, chuckles, and says, "I didn't forget, birdie" (he most definitely did) before going and getting your presents from their hiding spot

You still don't know how he managed to keep chocolate and flowers fresh for three days without you noticing

You smile, say your thanks, and give him a little kiss

John simply replies with, "Anything for my little birdie"

Paul:

Paul is the type to go all out on Valentine's Day

He wouldn't say it's his favourite holiday, but it's in the top three

Has been planning your gifts for months but didn't pick them up until the day of so they wouldn't get lost or damaged

His favourite things to give you are jewelry pieces and lingerie

One of his gifts is a trip to Paris

"It's the city of love, mon coeur!" was his excuse

He takes you atop the Eiffel Tower and...

Bends over to tie his shoe

JK, he kisses you super hard

And then proposes to you

Ofc you say yes

Then you run through the rainy streets, trying to avoid reporters

George:

George is very simple with Valentine's Day

He still does everything with love in his heart, but he's not so extravagant as other people (you don't mind, of course)

His favourite things to give you are flowers and handmade cards, though he has been known to gift songs on several occasions

He does enjoy using Valentine's as an excuse to take you out to fancy restaurants

In fact, you usually make a week of it and try as many fancy restaurants as you can

He always feels slightly bad for not being as extravagant as others, but you always reassure him it's just the way you like it

Then he showers you with physical and verbal affection to make up for it

Remember those toothy kisses from the SFW alphabet? Those come into play here

He spends a lot of the day describing to you just how much he loves you

Anytime you mention how much you love him, he says something along the lines of "I love you more"

Ringo:

Much like Paul, Ritchie goes all out on Valentine's and plans ahead

Unfortunately, he's very bad at secrets and always wants to tell you about your gifts early

As soon as February 1st hits, you practically have to hold his mouth closed to preserve the surprise

No matter how much he wants to tell you, though, even when you don't shush him, he shushes himself

His favourite things to give you are rings that match his or fuzzy socks (your flat is quite cold most of the time)

He likes to parade around town, hand-in-hand, proudly showing you off as his

He also likes to just stare at you with stars in his eyes, though he does that just about every day

"What's the matter?" you ask, thinking something must be wrong with your hair or stuck in your teeth

"Just happy I'm yours, my love," he says

You boop his nose and reply, "I'm happy I'm yours, my little Starr"

[takadasaiko]

Burn the Worlds Chapter 21 (a OUAT fic)

Story Summary: Rumplestiltskin had everything set up just as it needed to be for his curse and to find Bae, but when an enemy bent on destroying him makes his way through to Storybrooke as well, he may find that his cursed persona isn't a match for the cleric. Pre-S1. AU. 

Chapter Summary: Rumple and the others regroup while Magnus sets the chess board to bring them back.

FFN II AO3

Quick Note: Due to the insanely long hiatus between Ch20 and 21, some changes happened in the story set up and I made some edits to the end of Ch 20. I'd definitely recommend re-reading that chapter before reading this one.

Chapter 21.

Mary Margaret had made it a point to stop by the hospital to check on their John Doe every day since they had found him. If Mayor Mills knew anything more about him, she hadn't said, so the elementary teacher had made sure to drop by frequently during her volunteer hours, and sometimes even outside of them. No one should be alone, especially if they couldn't remember who they were.

It was strange. She would have thought someone with no memory of who they were would have been a bit of a blank slate. There were no memories of experiences to form up a personality, but somehow it shined through with him. The more time she spent, the more she enjoyed his company. He made her laugh at the most unexpected moments and there was a lightness she felt around him. A rightness. Somehow, she was drawn to him, and he seemed to be drawn to her. What a strange world.

He wasn't in his room, though. The bed was empty and a stranger stood with his broad back facing her, seemingly looking out the window towards the pond that Mary Margaret so often walked around with the man she'd come to visit. As the stranger turned, though, she saw that he couldn't possibly have been taking in the scenery. His eyes were milky white, scars marring the skin around them. Long-healed burn scars with what looked like had once been deep gashes mixed in. He must have been in a tremendous accident at some point in his life.

"You must be looking for David," the stranger said, his voice deep and strong.

It took Mary Margaret half a beat longer than it should have to key into the fact that not only had he been speaking to her, but he'd been speaking about her new nameless friend. "David?" she asked. "Do you know him? Is that his name? How -"

"Patience, child," the stranger cut her line of questions off. "Your answers will come in time."

The elementary school teacher tilted her head a little to the side as she studied him. Then it clicked. "You're Mr Dawson, aren't you? You work at the convent."

"Indeed I do. I was hoping to enlist your help in a matter."

She flashed him a smile that he couldn't possibly see. "I'm always happy to help."

"Yes you are. I'm looking for Mr Gold."

The statement caught her by surprise. Why would he have come to John Doe's - or David's, supposedly - hospital room to look for her of all people to help with Mr Gold? Dark brows drew together. "I rent my apartment from him, but I don't really know him."

"Few do," Jacob Dawson responded, "though you do know Emma, and I have reason to believe that she and the boy are with him."

"I don't know where."

"But you have a way to contact her."

Strange, it sounded much less like a question than it probably should have, but there was something in the man's tone that lulled her. Mary Margaret found the questions that she somehow knew she should be asking slipping away and the next thing she knew, she was handing the blind man her phone. He flipped it open and seemed to know exactly where to go. He offered her a smile that didn't sit quite right. "You've done well, and you will be rewarded. Go."

"Go?" she echoed. All of this felt wrong. She couldn't explain it, but that sharp sentiment cut through the fog.

"The others will be gathered to the town square. Fetch David and you'll receive answers there."

It was a dismissal that would have rivaled the mayor's, and as Jacob pulled the phone up to his ear, Mary Margaret found her feet leading her out before she'd ever given them permission. It was as if she couldn't stop them. The brief flashes of curiosity started to subside, left dulled by the fog that replaced it. David. Town square. Okay.

She rounded the corner and slammed directly into Mother Superior. The lead nun looked as startled as Mary Margaret felt, but seemed to recover more quickly. "Sn…. Mary Margaret. I need you to come with me."

"But I'm supposed to get David and go to the town square."

Mother Superior shook her head. "He's not at the town square. Come. I'll take you to him."

Her words didn't have the pull that Jacob Dawson's did, but somehow they felt more right. Despite the fuzziness in her mind, Mary Margaret nodded and allowed herself to be led out of the hospital.

She wasn't sure how long they had been sitting on the floor of the bathroom in a fancy hotel room, her boyfriend helping his poisoned father into the adjoining room and said father's girlfriend sitting with her on the cool tiles, providing more support than Emma thought she'd ever received from someone she'd met so recently. This woman didn't know her. Not really. But here she was acting more like family than an orphaned girl knew what to do with. They all had.

Emma blinked hard against a tear that escaped down her cheek and Belle reached around her, pulling her into a side hug and letting her lean. The flood gates might have opened if her phone hadn't rung, distracting her from the near breakdown. She reached into her pocket, saw Mary Margaret's name there, and cleared her throat before answering. "Hey, listen, I know that Dr Whale didn't want him leaving but -"

"Hello, Emma," a deep, authoritative voice boomed in her ear that was very much not Mary Margaret and a chill flooded her system. She knew that voice. It was a voice that would haunt her nightmares now, and suddenly she felt like she was standing on the steps of the convent with the man ordering Neal's execution. And he had Mary Margaret's phone. He had Mary Margaret.

Emma was on her feet in an instant. "What'd you do to Mary Margaret?"

"She is safe. For now," came the cryptic answer. "The Evil Queen Regina's fate remains dependent on choices you make here. Everyone in the town's fate does."

The teenage girl bit her lip as Belle stood slowly at her side, a supportive hand going to the teen's arm. "You can't hurt Regina. Everybody would know."

"You've spent time in Storybrooke. No one would know. Any questions are lost to the fog of the curse."

Emma felt her stomach roll again, but this time for a very different reason. Since the confession and his promise of proof, Neal had spoken so openly about his home and his family, as had Belle and even Mr Gold and Regina to a lesser extent. To hear that this man refer to a curse so casually was still enough to make her head spin. "I don't believe you. You're just trying to get us to bring Neal's dad back. It's not happening."

"Believe me or don't, child. Rumplestiltskin will die either way. It's you I offer the chance to."

The blonde teen swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"

"You don't know, do you? The Dark One keeps his secrets well."

Emma clenched her jaw. "You say a lot of nothing, don't you?"

"Then unlike the demon you protect, I'll speak plainly. Your family - your parents - are in Storybooke."

Complicated. That's what Gold had called it when Emma had asked how she tied in. It was a complicated question. More complicated by the minute, and Emma thought she might know why. Magnus' threats were crystal clear. "You hurt one hair on Regina's head and Gold will be the least of your problems," Emma snarled and snapped the phone shut.

"He has Regina?" Belle asked in a strained voice.

"Yeah. And it's about time I got some answers." She didn't wait, but instead stormed out of the bathroom and through the double doors that separated the two rooms.

—

Everything was in motion, but he felt as if he were frozen still. The Hatter's little girl sat in the corner of the living room with her knees pulled up to her chin and a stuffed rabbit clutched tightly against her chest. Though her body language showed fear, her glare was something else entirely. It was the look of a child that knew she'd been used against her own father, yet could do nothing about it. It was a well-earned look, if Caiden were honest, and he pushed back the nagging feeling that he'd crossed yet another line in his service to Magnus. He couldn't dwell on it. He had no intentions of hurting the girl, and once Jefferson brought whatever two useful souls back through from the Enchanted Forest that Magnus had sent him after, the younger cleric could be done with this distasteful business of leveraging a child. First Baelfire and then Grace… he was ready to be done with it.

Magic swirled, picking up dust and kicking up loose papers from the coffee table. Framed photos shook and a figurine danced itself off of a bookshelf as the whole house trembled and crashed loudly to the wooden floor. The intensity only grew as the portal opened and Grace climbed to her feet. "Papa!"

Caiden flashed out of existence and back in infront of her to keep from rushing it, lest she be dragged in. "Patience," he instructed quietly, watching the maw open up and the Hatter appear. With him came a blond man dressed as if he meant to blend in with the trees. His face was rough and his eyes wide, and at his side was a little boy, even younger than Grace.

Magnus had said that the thief he wanted to employ as a tracker to find the Dark One once he returned to Storybrooke might need convincing. After two children - one grown and one very much not - had already been a means to an end, Caiden shouldn't be surprised. He refused to let the conflict reach his face.

As the magic settled, Jefferson leveled a dangerous glare at the cleric. "I did what you demanded," he growled, disgust woven into every word. "Now release my daughter."

Caiden's fingers loosed around the girl's shoulder and she shot forward, launching herself into her father's arms. The Hatter caught her up and held her close. Pale eyes watched the scene for a long moment before their owner was jolted back into reality by a flurry of motion.

The boy took off in the opposite direction as his father notched an arrow in his bow faster than any man should have been capable of, pulled back, and let it fly. Caiden lifted a hand, magic wrapping around the projectile first, the boy a fraction of a second after, and both were frozen where they were.

"I have no intention of harming you or your child. Only to ask for your help."

"And you steal children to leverage that," the blond accused.

"Desperate times," Caiden answered softly and turned his gaze back to Jefferson. "When the war with the Dark One is over, we will remember your place in it."

The Hatter pulled Grace a little closer. "Get out of our home."

A brief nod and a swirl of magic, and Caiden pulled father and son with him, the sound of the loosed arrow flying through the space he'd just occupied following after them.

—

He felt like he was drifting in and out, even if he never quite slipped below the surface of unconsciousness. Bae got him inside and to the bed and he could practically feel the stress rolling off his son in waves. When he finally took a seat on the bed and then back against the stacked pillows, he was able to look into those dark eyes filled with worry. Rumplestiltskin's lips pulled thin and down as he reached an unsteady hand up to his gown boy's face. "Oh, Bae," he breathed out, voice less steady than he would have preferred. "I'm gonna fix this. I swear to you."

Before drew in a trembling breath and caught his hand. "What if we waited too long? What if… what are we doing? We should have you in a hospital."

"And tell them what?"

"I don't know," Bae snapped, gripping his hand a little tighter. "Just like I don't know what kind of damage that poison may have caused. For all we know your organs could start shutting down and then —"

Rumple reached his free hand up to cover the one with a death grip on him and the rough chuckle that had been threatening died in his throat as he saw tears standing in his son's eyes. "We're not quite there," he promised instead.

"I can't lose you again, Papa," Bae managed.

And he'd thought the poison ripping through him had been painful. He took a moment, his hand around Bae's and he swallowed hard in hopes it would allow him to speak in a stronger voice. He needed Bae to believe him. To have faith in him. "I'm not letting go, Bae," he swore softly. "I just got you back. I'm not letting you go. You believe me, don't you?"

Bae offered a strained smile and bent to kiss his papa's knuckles, mumbling that he did.

The door burst open from the adjoining room, startling them both. Emma rushed in with a white-knuckled hold on her phone and Belle trailing behind. "He has Regina. And maybe Mary Margaret."

Rumplestiltskin loosed a breath. Well, that was quicker than expected. He removed only one hand to help push himself up on the stacked pillows so that he was sitting up a little more and gave Bae's hand a squeeze with the other at his immediate protest.

"Magnus called from Mary Margaret's phone," Belle offered a bit more explanation.

"To tell me he has Regina," Emma added, panic working its way into her voice.

"We don't know that he does," Rumplestitskin murmured, his voice intentionally gentle so as to not rile her up any further and Emma's gaze snapped to him. Well, at least he had her attention. "Magnus can't kill her. He knows that."

"He said no one would notice because of the curse —"

"That she cast. There are protections in that. Regina knew it. That's why she bought us time." He winced and sunk a little deeper into the pillows before meeting her eyes again. "She's resourceful. She'll be fine."

There was a loud huff from the blonde's direction and Bae squeezed his hand before releasing it to stand and take a step closer to Emma. "Hey, let's let him rest and you and I can talk about —"

"No," she snapped at him, her hazel gaze fixed on Rumplestiltskin as he forced his eyes to remain open. "It's time."

"For what, exactly?" he drawled tiredly.

"In the car. You said you'd tell me how I fit in in time. It's time."

"Emma…" Bae tried again and she dodged the hand reaching for her, turning her fiery gaze on him. "Magnus said you dad knows who my parents are! That they're in Storybrooke."

Bae paled noticeably and Rumple sighed. Of course Magnus did. The bastard was trying to turn them against each other. "He's toying with you,"

"That's not a denial," Emma growled , but clearly hadn't missed Baelfire's expression she turned on him now, and a little hurt made it through the rage. "You knew too?" she asked smally.

"Emma…"

"You were just going to let me leave her there to rot, weren't you?" she demanded, the accusation barely leaving her as she turned on heel and stalked back through the door she'd slammed through earlier.

Rumplestiltskin met his son's torn gaze. "Go."

He didn't need to tell Bae twice as his boy darted after the girl he loved.

Belle watched the door closed behind them for a long moment before turning back to meet Rumple's dark gaze. He loosed a long breath. "You heard the call?"

"Only her end."

"Best you tell me what you can before we find ourselves on the sharp end of any more surprises."

—

Emma was almost to the exit into the hotel hallway from their room as Bae followed her through the doors. He picked up speed, reaching out and touching her arm, though careful not to take too tight a hold that she felt trapped by it. "Hey? Hey. Look at me." He did his best not to flinch under the vicious, teary gaze she leveled at him. Instead, he met her gaze. "Talk to me?"

"What do you want me to say? My mom is…. You know I've been looking for them my whole life! She's there! She's there and we just left her to him!" The dam broke and with it came the tears. Damn it. He was useless against her tears.

Bae swallowed hard, steeling himself to try to explain in a way that wouldn't make this worse. He really didn't want to make this worse. "It was a lot. Magic, the Enchanted Forest, a curse… I was trying not to overload you. And then everything happened so fast with Papa and I just..."

"You've had time since I admitted this craziness was real."

"I know, but I figured we'd get there. It wasn't like you could just walk up to her and call her mom. She's cursed. She doesn't remember you yet."

Blonde brows drew together and she blinked hard against the salty tears still falling one by one. "What are you talking about? She's one of the only people that remembers!"

Everything seemed to slam to a stop at that. "Wait. Who did Magnus say is your mom?"

Emma seemed to slow down with him. "I mean, he didn't say it outright, but it makes sense… the connection, the fact he's using her against us…."

"Okay, who do you think is your mom?" Bae clarified.

"Regina. Isn't it Regina?"

A flash of relief swept through Baelfire. Okay. Everything was starting to make more sense. "No," he breathed when he realized he hadn't answered. "Mary Margaret is Snow White. She's your mom. David - the guy from the coma - he's your dad."

"Snow White? What does that make him? Prince Charming?"

"I guess?"

All of the anger seemed to rush out of her, leaving her deflated and her limbs heavy. Bae reached out to steady her under the realization and inched her towards the bed to take a seat. He waited as patiently as he could, her pretty eyes staring unfocused on the carpet and her fingers wrapped tightly around her bent knees.

"They're alive," she breathed at last.

"Yeah. I was going to tell you. I just… wanted to give you time to process. Then Magnus."

"Then Magnus," she agreed, the name rolling off her tongue like a curse, even as she sagged against him.

Good. That meant that they'd bypassed the worst of her flight-risk tendencies, at least for the night. He eased her back and she let him, both of them falling into the bed. "You were going to tell me?"

"Of course I was."

"Is there more to it? Your dad said it was complicated."

"It is. I don't even know if I get it all, but if we get some sleep tonight and he's up to it in the morning, we'll get him to explain."

Emma curled into him and he tucked her head under his chin, feeling her arm around his ribs with her fingers wrapping themselves up in the fabric of his shirt. He kissed the top of her head. "You really thought Regina was your mom?"

"I thought… maybe," she answered softly and much less certainly than she'd sounded just a few minutes before. She repositioned herself so that she could meet his eyes in the dimly lit room. "I care about her. That's not gonna go away just because I know the truth."

"I know. We're going back for her."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

That seemed to be enough as his exhausted girlfriend settled down nestled into him. He breathed her in, the closeness calming. They'd get through this, he reminded himself. Papa would be okay and they'd rescue Storybooke from Magnus. Emma's parents, Regina, and everyone else… they could make a life there. It could be their Tallahassee.

He'd fight for that with everything he had.

--

TBC

Notes: So... hi. Looks like my last update was April 2015, so why not add a new chapter nearly a decade later? :') In all honestly, this story has always kind of haunted me. I loved it, I loved the premise, but I was writing it at the end of my ability to stomach where canon OUAT was going. To this day I still have large chunks of post S4 that I haven't seen and can't watch because it was so atrocious. 

I can't promise that I will finish this because I did that last time and here we are. I can tell you that I have the story pretty much worked out to the end and I have ever intention of poking at this along with my other multi chapter fic (over in the Star Wars fandom) that I've been writing on. So here we are. Let's see if anyone's still interested in this fic.

Next Time: Emma receives answers, the Blue Fairy takes a risk, and Regina gets an unexpected surprise.

[suffcring]

did you have a muse you tried to play, but didn’t feel connected to?

did you have muse you tried to play, but ended up dropping for various reasons? (the rpc wasn’t active, you lost interest, etc)

what do you think of your muse’s popular fandom ship? (Copia)

is your muse canon divergent in any way? (Copia)

I love John Constantine (Hellblazer, not the good movie, bad adaption) but couldn't manage him. I did try, but there's something about the way he speaks that doesn't come naturally to my mind, and I had re-read all of my individual issues of the Hellblazer run like fifteen times trying. It's a bummer because I think, if I could manage him, he'd be a lot of fun. But it's just not something that comes to me

The first time I wrote Kaine, I had to bail. I got a lot of hate for not writing him exactly to canon -- I can't remember what detail I forgot from the Clone saga, but it got me so much fucking anon hate, I had to bail. But he is one of my favorite characters, so after a few years, I came back to him and asked my friend who writes Peter (alas, he hasn't been around lately) if I could use his adapted MCU plot for his older Peter for my Kaine, and he said yes. And then Spiderverse dropped and I felt a lot better as a whole because I could always just be like "This is my specific Kaine, he's not 100 percent canon" even though I didn't really change much of anything from his canon. I think we've discussed before, and I definitely talked about it with Cas but that whole incident changed how I write a character and who I write. I feel like if I don't know every detail that's available to know, I cannot write that character. And so finding out some people will pick up muses from movies that haven't come out yet, or that they haven't seen any of the canon for, and this is normal and they do just fine with it blows my fucking mind.

The fun thing about Ghost is that because there's so few characters that aren't related, there really aren't any standout popular ships. I do enjoy Copia with people's oc siblings of sin, and I like him okay with most of the Ghouls, too. I don't have anything off to say about any combination of them -- I think Copia is very open to love and being loved, and that makes it easier. The only semi popular ship I have negative thoughts about is Copi.iia, but a lot of that ship content is from before we knew they were brothers and I also just. Don't like the dynamic as much, even if they weren't. IMO, Copia killing his brothers when up until recently he thought he had no family to ascend is more interesting than Copia killing his lover to ascend. But that's just my tastes.

Thankfully, there isn't really much canon to go off of, and what there is kind of varies wildly between his Cardinal era and his Papa era. I think part of that is Tobias originally intended Copia to be disliked by the fandom, but we're all weirdos who adored a cunty little Cardinal and so... Tobias made him a lot more goofy and a lot softer. I personally try to weave both in to my portrayal, though I know many people choose to write Copia as mostly good, and that's totally okay and just as valid as me choosing to write him as a little evil. None of the people who roleplay him but a lot of like fandom at large is like "look at him being awkward and autistic, how could you think he was evil?" and that really rubbed me the wrong way, as an autistic person. So!

[mlobsters]

supernatural s9e10 road trip (w. andrew dabb)

didn't realize we were on a 'road so far' episode already. oh did we really need a funeral pyre? buh. okay what irritates me about that is it can lean on the emotions i associate going back to john's pyre. as much as i warmed up to kevin, his death did not really make me feel anything. and now they can borrow against my fucked up dead parents feelings that got shaken up via john. don't like it.

also borrowing against my thoughts on dean's feelings via john's death, having this long zoom out from dean at the fire, licensed music playing. oh, it gets worse! the cleaning up kevin's footprint in the bunker. no more extra little brother at home.

was thinking today actually about mrs. tran, how crowley said she was dead but i couldn't remember if we ever confirmed if she was actually dead?

thought of it because of the phone. the logistics of the aftermath of someone has died. i was too young to deal with anything from when my dad died, but i was 32 when my mom died (fun fact i guess that would make it a year before this season aired) so my brother and i dealt with the house and belongings. damnit. now i'm upset about that, buncha cheap shots, show. sigh. too much thinking, more watching.

dean guilt++ and no sam because he's off being ridden around by a fucked up murdering angel

all right the picture with kevin and his mom got me. don't throw the fucking phone, asshole. break everything else, but not the phone, come on. this is like bobby burning the family picture with jo and ellen in s5e10 (brain, stop it)

so we go from this scene to.... this one.

okay tonal whiplash. they could have had a rockstar character and not making it into a cheesy joke. weird choices.

DEAN Sammy was dying. What was I supposed to do?

can't blame a shark for being a shark. can't blame a dean for doing anything to save his sam.

CASTIEL You kill an angel, its vessel dies, too. DEAN Think I don't know that? If I don't end Sam and that halo burns him out and I... God, I was so damn stupid. CASTIEL You were stupid for the right reasons. DEAN Yeah, like that matters. CASTIEL It does. Sometimes that's all that matters.

castiel is banking on it being the something that matters for personal reasons too :p

CROWLEY I told him this was gonna happen. I was the only person who tried to warn him. I told him to run. DEAN From what? CROWLEY You. How many times am I gonna have to say this? People in your general vicinity don't have much in the way of a life-span.

don't let him make you feel worse, dean (even though it's true)

will admit i wonder what crowley does chained up for days, weeks?? at a time between visits from someone.

definitely. good levels of quippy crowley

CROWLEY Looks like we need a tiebreaker. Go get Moose, squirrel. Unless... Unless, of course, you can't. That's why you're here, isn't it? The poor giant baby's in trouble again, isn't he?

i will admit he made me laugh at that. poor giant baby samoose

dean is Very Sad and Very Guilty but i would like to take a moment to say i like the plaid he has on today. it's pretty. not covered up by a jacket so i can actually appreciate it

okay that made me laugh too

CROWLEY Shotgun. DEAN Uh, wrong. You're in the back. DEAN Hey – you, too. Keep an eye on him.

so dumb but i cackled. more cas and crowley bickering please

dad!dean yelling at the kids fighting in the back. here for it

all right. mega confusion. so i was like this dude, why do i know this dude, is that ezekial/gadreel, was he in an older episode of spn? anyway i apparently didn't look him up when we first met him but he was one of the dimi's in s1 of altered carbon... and dimi 2 was in an spn episode (s4e5 the black and white one). i had forgotten that while dimi is the same dude, it was different meatsuits (sleeves, in the show).

s9e10 / altered carbon s1e1 tahmoh penikett as dimitri kadmin

wonder how padalecki felt about playing an even more different character now. recall reading something recently about jackles talking about how it was harder when he was playing soulless!sam etc because it wasn't that same dynamic

I've shared this before, it did make it a little bit more difficult when Jared was playing soulless Sam or Dean was playing demon Dean or Michael. It made it a little bit, well, it was different because that person that you rely on who brings their character to life in a way that supports what you're doing and that is relatable and that is almost, is somebody that you rely on to fulfill—he completes me. Great, that's the headline tomorrow... "Jensen Ackles finally admits... ...that he really does love Tom Cruise movies." So yeah, to get back the question, it it did make it a little bit more difficult to do what we were so used to doing when you take that element away and but again that's I think that that was one of the great things about Supernatural is that we took chances like that, we swung for the fences on a lot of different things.

-from 2022 JIB 12 Jensen Sunday Morning Panel

LOL i just realized i had the wrong era license plate in the painting i just did. cue me flushing and sweating. i did something wrong on the internet where people can see, the HORROR

CROWLEY Your phallus on wheels just ran a red light in Somerset, Pennsylvania, 10 minutes ago.

lol. classy

this whole gadreel/abner thing. i dunno, man. there's just too much shit going on to care about everything

no judgement, i pet my car too

great, jabbing holes in sam's brain and wiggling a big needle around in there. like trying to find a recessed reset button with a paperclip

DEAN Pretty much, yeah. How are you doing? CASTIEL You want to talk about me now? DEAN I want to talk about anything that's not a demon sticking needles into my brother's brain.

oh dean. i'm feeling the feelings, jackles

CASTIEL You thought his life was at stake. DEAN Yeah, I got played. CASTIEL I thought I was saving Heaven. I got played, too. DEAN So you're sayin' we're both a couple of dumbasses?

me three

CASTIEL I prefer the word "trusting." Less dumb. Less ass.

sorry but i laughed. that was a weird watery delivery

now crowley gets to tromp through sam's brain too, greeeeaat. this is just great.

DEAN If you mess with Sam, if you try anything– CROWLEY I keep my bargains. Besides, I don't want to be inside your brother any longer than I have to. I'm not one for sloppy seconds.

classy as ever

DEAN This don't make us square. I see you again– CROWLEY I'm dead. Yes, I know. I love you, too.

kisses, byeee

SAM What you do want me to say – that I'm pissed? Okay. I am. I'm pissed. You lied to me. Again. DEAN I didn't have a choice. SAM I was ready to die, Dean! DEAN I know. But I wouldn't let you, because that's not in me.

it doesn't excuse what dean did, but sam knows this. neither dean nor i can tolerate sam being okay with dying. just like sam and i can't tolerate dean being self destructive and ready to die at the drop of a hat

at least i can tolerate it a little better when they have these little mini breakups, now that it's happened so many times. and i don't think they're committing to a long separation onscreen? but i don't know honestly

quality time for sam and cas?

[nadiajustbe]

"I Hope"

Something

"Have you ever loved me?"

The boy's voice sounded incredibly quiet, and he really seemed to be gathering his strength to say it. Nathaniel stared out the window for about ten minutes before he said such a strange nonsense.

"What did you have in mind, Nat? I mean, I get it, you got hit over the head with a rock after your adventure with Nouda, but I didn't think the situation was that dire. You definitely look like you've been brain damaged, maybe you should check for a spit leak..."

Suddenly Nathaniel looked up at me with a look so stern and serious that even I, the great Sacr-al-Jinni, felt uncomfortable.

"Bartimaeus, don't quibble. Can you for once give me a really honest answer? I realise our relationship doesn't exactly incline to that, but..." In the transparent time he'd been silent, it already seemed to me that Nat would never speak again "Please."

The last time he'd said something like that was when he was twelve, when he'd begged for a bonfire. Was an answer to such foolishness as important to him as a fire in the bone-chilling cold?

And, what the hell did he mean by the word "love"? In all possible languages, it has taken on so many infinite meanings that even I cannot make sense of it. It's too complicated, whether it's in English or Sumerian.But you know I'm not a fan of silence, don't you?

"I hated John Mandrake. Hated him with every fiber of my being. He was a pompous, self-righteous, stupid and cruel child who thought he could play the adult game. This man brought me more pain than any of the worst masters before him. And I am incapable of forgetting it all, ever. In that time, I must say, nothing has changed. John Mandrake is absolutely nightmarish."

I shot Nathaniel the same insistent look that spoke for itself, "Satisfied?"

I thought a shadow of disappointment flashed across the boy's face, but he quickly regained his stony look. It was as if I were looking at the same statue that now stands at the site of the Glass Palace.

"Thank you, Bartimaeus," he nodded, reaching for the crutches that had been standing nearby the whole time. The tone of voice was exactly the same as Nathaniel himself - I couldn't pick up a single emotion in it. And the boy, slowly but surely, moved toward the door, as if leaving this room was the most important task of his life.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was tugging at his elbow, urging him to pay attention to me. He stopped, but didn't even turn his head, staring down the dusty corridor.

"But we haven't talked about you yet, Natty." I smiled with all my inhuman teeth, baring my sharp fangs, looking like the vampire in a child's nightmare. A very primitive trick, but it surprisingly worked-the boy turned and looked at me as if he'd never seen me before.

I didn't know why I kept talking, but apparently I really wanted to keep talking. No one was ordering me around this time, just asking, and I was even surprised that I was deciding to do it on my own, for no good reason.

"In your twelfth year you were a stupid, arrogant, obsessed with strange impossible ideas kid. I didn't want to serve you, I never wanted to serve you, but I remembered you. Even though you were a magician, there were faint vestiges of particularity and goodwill in you, how ironic that they were what drove the people you cared about to their grave..." I took advantage of the boy's fleeting attention to start, but after my last words he tried to look away again and I realized that this time I had indeed said too much, even if in such situations I really am a master "But that's not what we are talking about now. You bore your true name as your own, you were someone to be remembered, a little better than anyone else in the last two thousand years.

At fourteen you were closer to them, to all those fools in the Ministry, I see you have an understanding of that time now. John did terrible things at times, but Nathaniel still had a rare thing for your kind - a conscience. You could understand your actions, you could be ashamed of them. And back then I still thought I might remember you as an unlikely fool with remnants of adequacy, which is better than nothing. But at seventeen you finally became him, John Mandrake, wanting to forget your true name. I've already said all I want to say about that fool, but if you want I can add a few words you should already know. But now I definitely see Nathaniel in front of me, frightened and quiet, but Nathaniel. And that's the boy I may have hated a little less than the last Minister of Information"

During this, unaccustomedly long line for me, I had already managed to come up with some pretty appropriate jokes, but the more I looked at the boy as I spoke, the more I realized that he was not able to appreciate all their genius right now.

Nat seemed to consider himself unworthy of any display of affection, so even the slight smile I did manage to notice he hastened to hide.

"Thank you for your honest answer," he leaned back on his crutches, only less hastily and less eagerly. And finally hobbling to the exit, he closed the door behind him. He had the last word again, asshole.

"Thanks for the honest answer"? - I smirked mentally, this guy was naive enough.

But still.

Just like those last few minutes.

I hoped he still felt

That he hadn't forgotten.

Or that he hadn't chosen not to care

That he wasn't such a fool

I hoped that he knew after all

[invisibleraven]

Hey there for the prompts " wanna practice?" Rulie?

Julie hummed as she wandered into her garage, a melody that had been haunting her lately, ever since she overheard it played the week before. She had been going out to fetch some sheet music when she came across Reggie strumming an acoustic, singing his country song.

Julie had hid in the doorway, listening to Reggie's smooth tenor voice ring out in the empty studio, peeking through the crack in the doorway at his jubilant expression as he finished singing. She was tempted to start clapping, to tell him how great he was, but then watched as he sighed, packed away the guitar, and picked up his bass. "What's the point?" he asked himself, then beginning to play the bass line from Luke's newest creation.

Julie had backed away, not wanting to intrude on his moping, but she had regretted it. Now, with the song still stuck in her head, she wanted to see if she could master it on the fiddle.

Look, the school wanted her to learn a new instrument, and remembering her promise to Reggie, she had picked the fiddle. It had been slow going, and she wasn't anywhere near being a virtuoso, but she figured she could at least learn the simple melody to 'Home Is Where My Horse Is'.

Only when she entered the garage, there was Reggie again. She knew he hung out here a lot since his home life wasn't the greatest. But what she wasn't expecting was for him to be absolutely shredding on the banjo, singing some John Denver at the top of his lungs.

"Country roads, take me home. To the place that I... Julie! Oh um, hi. I was just..." Reggie stammered.

Julie stifled a giggle. "You did tell me you could shred on the banjo Reg, I just had no idea how much. You can keep going if you want. Or we can duet?"

With that Julie held up her fiddle case, and a smile erupted on Reggie's face. "You learned?" he asked, sounding touched.

"I'm not great yet, definitely can't keep up with you yet, but I can try my best."

"Wanna practice?" Reggie asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. Julie rolled her eyes but nodded, taking out the worn instrument the school had loaned her. Quickly tying her hair back, she positioned it under her chin and grinned at Reggie.

"Um, can I adjust you?" Reggie asked. "Just so the sound comes out clearer?"

"Sure. Mrs. Harrison tries her best, but you're the master," Julie said.

"I'm no master, but I spent enough time watching my pappy play that I know you're holding it wrong," Reggie replied, coming up behind her. Gently he positioned the fiddle a little, and Julie felt it was much more comfortable. Reggie's lean fingers positioned hers, and she had to suppress a shiver at his touch, the feel of his breath on her exposed neck, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through her like the sharpest glass.

"G-good?" Julie asked, her throat suddenly feeling parched. The fiddle suddenly felt like it weighed a million pounds, and it slipped off her shoulder, through not from her grasp.

Reggie murmured his agreement, but didn't move. Instead he leaned down further, nose brushing against hers. "Can I?" he asked, voice whisper quiet.

Julie didn't answer, simply pressed up on her toes to make their lips meet. Turned her body to make the kiss more lush and full, arms flinging themselves around her back, making Reggie grunt as the fiddle hit him, but he didn't pull away.

It was Julie who finally stepped back, looking shyly at Reggie's pink face, knowing her own cheeks were similarly aflame. "So, still want to duet?"

"With you darlin'? Always," Reggie replied, smooth as anything. "Though maybe leave the John Denver for another day." He leaned down to press a fleeting peck to her mouth again, smiling against her lips. "How do you feel about some Faith Hill?"

Julie hoped her answer was clear enough for him, and even if her bow never touched the fiddle, she and Reggie did spend the afternoon making some beautiful music together.

[johnsamericano]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 12:

ℓєє мαяк

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @mrcarbonatedmilk @unknown5tar @whathamelon @ajhdr @curieouscapt @silent-potato @gjheaaa

warnings: baby daddy mark, hidden pregnancy (?, tooth rotting.

“Dude, isn't that y/n?” Mark’s old friend, John, pointed at you.

Yeah, that was most definitely his ex. You were holding a small girl between your arms, helping her reach for a box of lucky charms. You looked just as beautiful as three years ago, even more, he daresay.

“Go talk to her.” His friend elbowed him. “I’ll go get the meat, maybe you can invite her to our barbecue.”

“We haven't seen each other in a while, don't you think it'll be a little too weird?”

“Go for it, I know you're still hung up on her.”

“How...?”

“I heard your last girl complaining about how you called y/n’s name while having sex with her, it was hilarious, to be honest.” Mark punched him in the arm, earning a small groan from the tall man. “But seriously, though, you broke up with her to focus on your career. Now that you have a stable job, what's stopping you from getting her back?”

“I don't know, man...”

“Give it a try, I'll be with the butcher if you need me.” He winked at the Canadian boy, making his way to another aisle.

Mark took a deep breath before his feet finally started moving. You were placing the small girl in the shopping cart’s seat, tickling her tummy while at it.

“Y/n?” Your eyes almost came out of their caves as you heard his voice.

“Mark...” You stared at him with wide eyes, looking back and forth between the little girl and him. “I thought you’d moved back to Canada.”

“I came back a year ago.” He fiddled uncomfortably with the rings adorning his fingers. “I really wanted to contact you, but since things between us were a little complicated when I left...” By complicated he meant breaking your heart and leaving a day after ending things between you.

“It’s really okay, Mark. No hard feelings.” You smiled sweetly at him, your pretty eyes turning into half moons.

“And who’s this little one? Your niece?” He caressed the top of the girl’s head, who wasn’t even aware of his presence, too focused on getting rid of the wrapping around the chocolate you’d just bought her.

“Actually-”

“Mommy, I need help!” Mark froze.

“Oh, sure sweetie.” You tone completely changed when addressing her. “Mark, this is my daughter, EunHee. Say hi, baby.”

“Hi, Mark.” She extended her hand as you tore the wrapping of the chocolate bar open. His surprised expression turned into a big smile, covering her small hand with his significantly bigger one. “Look, mom. His cheeks are just like mine!” She poked Mark’s cheekbones.

You could almost feel a drop of sweat rolling down your forehead.

“Wait, you're right.” The Canadian man pointed out as your daughter smiled at him. “That's crazy.” Thank God Mark was so naive. “So where’s the father of this little bean?”

‘Right in front of me.’ You thought.

“She doesn't...”

“Oh, sorry. It must've been hard raising her on your own.” He reassuringly placed a hand on your arm. “How old is she?”

“Uhm, s-she’s-”

“I’m this old.” EunHee interrupted, showing her three small fingers.

You hoped Mark’s brain capacity wouldn't be enough to connect the dots. But you had to admit, it was pretty obvious.

“Wow, you're so big.” It was heart-warming watching your daughter interact with her father for the first time, even if they didn't know the truth about each other. “So, we're having a barbecue at my place today. There’s always room for someone else, and you can bring EunHee if you’d like. My address is still the same.”

“I’ll think about it.” You handed the chocolate bar back to your daughter, who didn’t even take a second to eat up the whole thing.

“Alright, I guess I’ll see you then, maybe.”

(...)

“Mark’s hitting on a mom!” Yuta mocked him, causing the whole garden to erupt into laughter.

“And what’s wrong with that? She isn’t married.”

“Mark, you literally just met with her again after three years, slow down.” Jaehyun interceded, eyes stuck to his phone.

“Guys, stop messing with Mark. He's always loved y/n, so let him be.” Johnny spoke from the grill, turning around a steak. “Besides, I saw the little girl. She looks a lot like Mark, so I bet no one would be able to tell they're not actually related.”

“How old did you say she was?”

“Three.”

“Okay, don’t be mad at me, but did you ever have sex with her without protection?”

“What are you trying to say, Haechan?” Taeil asked bitterly.

“Just think about it, guys. It makes sense.” While his friends discussed the possibility of him being a dad, Mark’s head was rather busy trying to remember every little detail from the last time he was intimate with you.

But as much as he tried, he couldn't remember having worn a condom. And as far as he knew, you weren't on the pill.

The doorbell cut his string of thoughts, snapping him back into reality.

“I’ll get the door.” He didn't expect you to be behind it, holding your -and possibly his- daughter’s hand tightly. “Oh, hey.”

He seemed uncomfortable, had you made a mistake in accepting his offer?

“Hi, I couldn't find someone to look after this little monster. I hope your friends won't mind.”

“Not at all, they love kids.” He stared intensely at your daughter, finally noticing those similarities Johnny mentioned before. “Come in.”

He guided you all the way to the backyard, everyone greeting you with a big hug.

“Nice to see you again, y/n.” Johnny murmured, patting your back.

“She’s like a little doll!” Jaehyun squeaked excitedly, sitting your daughter on his lap. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“I’m EunHee.” He cooed at her high-pitched voice tone. “Your dimples are pretty.”

“Thank you.”

The boys seemed completely comfortable with your daughter, fighting with Jaehyun, who wouldn't let go of her.

“Can I have a word with you?” Mark came from behind you, making you jolt at his sudden presence.

“Sure.”

He walked you to the kitchen, away from the noisy men outside. He anxiously twisted his hands, trying to find the correct words to demand for the truth.

“What’s wrong?” You asked worriedly, taking a step closer to him.

“Is EunHee mine?” Well, you were definitely not expecting that. You thought that after meeting him at the supermarket, your secret was safe. Apparently, it wasn’t. “By the look on your face, I’m guessing she is.”

He groaned in frustration, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands.

“I’m sorry for keeping it a secret all this years. I won’t force you to step in and take responsibility for her, we can just leave and pretend this never-”

“What are you even talking about? Why wouldn’t I want to take care of my own daughter?” The frown on his face deepened. “Did you know you were pregnant when we broke up?”

Should you tell him the truth?

“I...” He looked at you expectantly.

Of course you should tell him the truth, he deserves it.

“Yes.” His heart dropped, guilt filling every inch of his body. “I didn’t want to hold you back. It would’ve been unfair for me to use that as an excuse to stop you from leaving.”

“So you’re saying I missed three years of my daughter’s childhood because you didn’t want to be selfish?” With every word his voice grew louder, shouting by the end of the sentence and catching the other guests' attention.

“Mark, we should talk about this another day, when we’re alone.” You tried leaving, but his hand clutched your wrist tightly.

“No.” You could admire tears sparkling in his eyes. “I don't want to miss another second of her.”

“Mommy?” Just then, EunHee walked into the kitchen, holding Yuta’s hand. “I heard screaming, are you okay?” Mark nodded at his friend, as if signaling him he could leave.

“Yes, I’m alright, sweetie.” You swung her up in your arms, coming closer to Mark who had the sudden urge to hold his baby. “Are you sure about this? There’s no backing out.” You mouthed, feeling a pinch of relief as he nodded. “Baby, I’d like you to meet someone very special.”

“Who?”

“This is Mark...” She looked at you with her small eyebrows furrowed, she’d already met Mark. “Your dad.”

Mark honestly felt like crying, your daughter smiling excitedly as she urged you to put her down, letting her father hold her close to his chest.

“Mommy said you were lost.” He felt so warm inside.

“I promise not to get lost again, alright?” His lips pressed a kiss into her forehead, already enamored by the cheerful giggles erupting from EunHee.

You observed them with regret. If you'd told Mark you were pregnant before he left, perhaps he wouldn't be on the verge of tears right now, perhaps your daughter wouldn't have had to deal with her classmates’ non-stopping questions about her father.

“Y/n?” Mark called out for you. “C-can we have a family hug?” He moved his hand invitingly, making space for you to join.

You walked into his arms, every negative feeling vanishing as Mark embraced you, both of you trying not to sob.

“What do you want to do now?” He let go of you, using both of his arms to embrace EunHee.

“Make up for the lost time.”

[poguestvff]

LIKE A BIG SISTER SHOULD — WHEEZIE CAMERON

in which wheezie cameron finds that blood doesn’t make you family, love and affection does.

taglist | masterlist | 2.5k words | @pogueslandia ,

warning(s): food, she/her pronouns, ward slander, a little sarah slander but that’d include reading between the lines. why’d this make me want to make a series of reader and Wheezie being best friends.

There's always been a heavy feeling of loneliness that rested upon the youngest cameron's shoulders, weighing her down as it seemed to pile over the years. Her siblings were always older, an age gap between them that even if it was shortened by a few years, their worlds would still be two different things. All three of them were in three different stages of life yet somehow it felt like Wheezie wasn't even there at times.

Throughout the entirety of her schooling career so far, everything had somehow been about Rafe and Sarah. Sarah was the perfect one; the paragon who could do no wrong. Even if Sarah tried to disobey, it'd be turned around to be made out as a minute mistake. She'd probably be able to get away with it a second time if she did it a different way. Maybe the same way.

Rafe was quite the opposite. The bastard child who needed a plentiful amount of attention in hopes he can be more like the paragon. With all this attention, his head only grew. It never gave him the space for growth. It minimized the space to stay exactly where he was for years on end.

This left Wheezie to be the ostracized sibling. She wasn't a social butterfly or a poster child like Sarah and she definitely wasn't a loner or the 'damaged goods' child like Rafe. She was just... average. With average grades and an average personality. Just average old Wheezie. She told herself this consistently, watching her father balance his attention between making sure Rafe stayed between the lines he'd drawn for him in a radius such as a dart board and allowing Sarah step out of them, even erasing some of the lines so she could walk on by them without a second thought.

But Wheezie was stuck in that tiny little circle in the middle, the bullseye as if scared to move out of those lines. The one place that was the hardest to pinpoint specifically by her father. But there was one thing Ward Cameron always said correct about his younger daughter. That he wouldn't be able to pin point his little dart of control into the middle of the board because she was misunderstood and misunderstood she was.

Though one person had been able to pick up on every single one of Wheezie's emotions.

Y/n Y/L/N was a pogue who had done tutoring on the side for a little extra money and when John B had recommended Y/n for help with Wheezie's homework, Ward was quick to say okay. He hardly even asked a thing about Y/n, just telling her to help Wheezie pass eighth grade and that was all. It was made very apparent to Y/n that was Wheezie was not as much of a priority to Ward as other things were.

Their first tutoring session, Wheezie was awfully dismissive. She didn't care for any of Y/n's efforts as they sat within the comfort of Wheezie's bedroom. She just wanted the entire hour to be over with the second she'd entered her room but Y/n was insistent, knowing that by the end of the school year she would have something instilled in Wheezie's brain. She just didn't know what that something was yet.

The second time they met, Y/n was more passive aggressive in hopes of breaking down the brick walls Wheezie had stored between her and everyone else in hopes of not disappointing them like the way she thought she'd disappointed her father. Y/n sat her down in her desk chair, swiveling her chair to her as she rested her hands on the younger girls shoulders. "You are going to have a really awkward couple of weeks if you and i don't become friends so no work today. We're playing 20 questions."

That night, Y/n learned a lot about Wheezie Cameron that she never thought she'd learned. Wheezie hated the color purple, she just painted her room that color because Sarah liked that color. Wheezie loved to paint and to draw, it was her favorite activity, she just rarely showed it bevause she hadn't believed in herself. Though, when she showed Y/n the canvas' that were shoved at the back of the closet, Y/n marveled at them. But Y/n's favorite fact, and the same one that almost made her hug Wheezie on the spot, was that she was never taught to swim and Y/n made her a promise that she would teach her.

As the weeks went by, Wheezie waiting anticipatingly for Y/n's beaten down, green ford bronco to pull up on the driveway and she'd leave the house with a giant smile on her face. It’d be early in the morning, a little less than an hour until school started, just like how Wheezie liked. She'd jump in the driver seat, embracing the smell of vanilla from the scented item hanging from the rear view mirror. She’d toss her bag to the back as Y/n would ruffle her hair, just like she had every morning. "And beloved was set in... late 1856!" Wheezie answered excitedly as Y/n drove down the final street towards her school after the two had gotten breakfast together.

"Perfect! You're gonna do so good on your test, Wheeze, I promise." Y/n told her ecstatically as she pulled into a parking space. Just before Wheezie could get out, Y/n held her upper arm just to gain her attention before she got out. "Tell Rose she doesn't have to get you after school. I'll leave school early and you and I are having a girls day. No studying, just me, you and a shit ton of sweets."

Wheezie smiled, she could feel the muscles in her jaw begin to hurt from how wide she had. She tilted her head to the side out of curiosity, eyeing the look of excitement on Y/n's face. "But why?"

Y/n shrugged, adjusting in her seat and fixing her rear view mirror. "Cause, you deserve it. I'm so proud of you, Little W." She told her, looking back towards the girl and seeing her smile slightly drop. "You okay?"

Wheezie couldn't remember a time where she was genuinely told that. Yeah, sure, Ward said it a few times but it'd be in a lousy tone before he'd wave her off, saying he was busy with whatever office work he had to attend to. Sarah may have said it a few times but it was rushed before she'd run after her friends with a quick goodbye to Wheeze, leaving her alone in the sand. It was never sincere. Not in the way Y/n had said it.

She rubbed her hands against her jean clad thighs with a sharp breath before nodding. “Yeah. I've just never really been told that before. Like—Like genuinely." She said, lowly, in hopes Y/n would understand and wouldn't push it.

Y/n had known Wheezie long enough to know her tells and avoiding eye contact was one of the biggest ones. So she didn't indulge further in the conversation, brushing it under the rug but knowing she'd have to go diving back in for that little tidbit later on. Instead she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug from over the console. "I'll tell you i'm proud of you everyday if i have to." Y/n muttered before kissing the top of her head. "Now go, if you're late to first period, your dad will kill me." And Wheezie was able to leave the car with a smile on her face, already looking forward to the day planned later on.

Y/n was overall consistent, it was one thing Wheezie enjoyed knowing that when she made promises she tried to keep them as best as she could. Sometimes things slipped her mind but Wheezie could recognize that Y/n didn't forget a thing when it came to Wheezie. Like she made sure to engrave bits and pieces of her into her mind like a data chart. But it showed she cared and that was enough for Wheezie.

Y/n cared enough that when she entered her car after school, the smell of her favorite cinnabon's filled the car that made her look in the backseat, seeing a picnic basket. There wasn't a chance, right? You could only get them on the mainland. She turned her body swiftly towards the elder girl who sat with a smirk on her face. "You didn't?"

"I did. Second I left fourth period, got on a ferry just for you to have those overly sweet treats." Y/n said, tapping her nose with a 'boop'! "And I almost got stuck on the mainland because of it so you better enjoy the hell out of them."

"I will, I promise." Wheezie said dramatically as Y/n smiled, pulling out of the parking space to head down to the beach. Wheezie had said she didn't have a bathing suit, not prepared for the outing, though Y/n already said she had ransacked her room for clothes for after. Y/n was the only person allowed in Wheezie Cameron's room without Wheezie being there and the elder girl took pride in it.

As Y/n set up their small area for the few hours, she noticed Wheezie standing just where the water and the sand met. She kicked around the water with clear disinterest causing Y/n to huff, hands on her hips, before tossing off her hoodie to get in. The splash she'd made by pushing herself into the water made Wheezie jump, a laugh falling from the two's lips. "Come on." Y/n said, standing and holding her hands out to Wheezie.

"Y/n/n, I can't swim."

"Y/n/n I can't swim, well, obvi, i know that, little W. But, you have your amazing best friend to keep you afloat. I won't let you go, i swear." Y/n said, holding up her pinky.

"Swear?"

"On my life." She reassured with a trusting smile before Wheezie walked further in. When the water had gotten to her above her waist, it'd freaked her out a bit though Y/n talked her through it, coaxing her further in slowly. Wheezie was kept above the water as Y/n held her hands as the buoyancy was used to their advantage. "See, not as bad as you thought?"

Wheezie shook her head though still nervous. "Not as bad, not my thing though."

"Why don't we try actually swimming? I won't force you if you don't want to and we can get back to shore right now but maybe just try?" She asked as Wheezie had to think about it for a moment. She almost felt guilty, remembing just a few months ago when Sarah had asked her if she could teach her but she refused. Though maybe, just maybe, it was because of Y/n being a bit more trust worthy that Wheezie said yes this time.

It took a while, Wheezie was frightened by letting go even as Y/n would say she was okay. Wheezie would tighten her grip on her shoulders before trying again and again until she eventually got it. She finally was able to keep herself above the water without flailing, recognizing that she was okay. Y/n cheered as she watched, not caring for the stares of others around them. "See, dude? You just have to start applying yourself! You did it!"

"I did it!" Wheezie said as Y/n hugged her, the two laughing before Wheezie screamed making Y/n's laughter die fast. "Something touched me!"

"Wheeze, it was seaweed." Y/n said softly before turning and letting her place her hands on her shoulders. "Yeah let's get you out of here before a jellyfish gets you."

Wheezie widened her eyes. "Jellyfish?"

As the sun had began to set and people had packed up their things and left, Y/n and Wheezie stayed. Wheezie was on her fourth doughy treat, even though Y/n told her to slow down two treats ago. Towels were wrapped around each of their shoulders as they watched the pretty colors fade in to one another, a mixture of pink, blue and orange array of colors combining to make a cotton candy sky. Wheezie watched as Y/n got up, accepting a phone call from Ward, the only phone call she hadn't silenced since they'd left the car.

In the time she'd left, Wheezie took advantage of it to recognize how appreciative she was of all that Y/n was doing for her. She came in as a tutor and, to Wheezie, was to stay as a friend. As family. Wheezie was more then ecstatic to have someone who would be there to rant and rave about the other Cameron's, someone she could trust with her secrets and the contents of her always running brain. Someone who was just there.

"Hey, your father would like us back in thirty so we should leave in ten." She said coming back and sitting beside Wheezie as she caught sight of her face, the lack of the smile that was there previously concerning her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, really. Just... I really enjoyed today, Y/n. It really lets me know you're not just here for like... like the money or something."

Y/n let out a scoff. "Are you kidding? I enjoy nothing more than watching you freak out over the existence of jellyfish." She joked as Wheezie pushed her to the side with a laugh. Y/n recovered, letting out a content sigh as she tossed an arm over Wheezie's shoulders. "You're stuck with me now, Wheezes. Can't wait to record you falling at your next soccer game."

Wheezie couldn't help the laugh that slipped past her lips, leaning into Y/n's embrace as her head rested against her clavicle. "And I'll be looking for you in the stands, Y/n/n."

Y/n and Wheezie had both found out something about the other that night. Wheezie found that she didn't want to be like Sarah and she was glad she wasn't like Rafe. She was content with her own little circle on the dart board but maybe she could take a bit after her newest role model. And Y/n found that she was able to instill several things into the youngers mind including To Kill a Mockingbird, Inca Civilizations, and that she now had a true and present big sister to look up to.

[helloliriels]

More fic titles, because I'm at work and bored:

The Case of the White Gloves

Emergency Protocol

Blade of the Knife

Tipping Point

. The Case of the White Gloves .

"So what's different about this case?" John was asking, "Sherlock?" Hands brushing across the soft gloves they were currently comparing ... These were ... these were really nice!!

He couldn't help but linger a little too long with each pair. Even though he knew Sherlock was hunting for something specific? Not that he knew what it was ...

"You seem to know what we're looking for?? Care to-?" he eyed Sherlock with the question, trying not to look miffed, "-fill me in here?"

Sherlock ducked below to a lower shelf and was comparing others. Oblivious to words, apparently!

"What do think of this pair, John?"

He handed over the softest possible pair of kidskin gloves that John Watson had ever experienced!! He all but made an indecent sound at the touch ... eyes closing. Feeling. John LOVED soft things ...

Who gets to wear something this nice?? He thought. And ... white? How do they keep from staining them?

"That's it, isn't it?" Sherlock was saying. Taking them away from John and running up to the counter to purchase them!!!

"Sherlock-?" John nearly choked at the price ... though it was an incredible pair ... "do we really need them to solve the case?" he asked, under his breath so the cashier wouldn't overhear. Voice taut with worry.

"Of course we do, John," he said, smiling and accepting the bagged treasure. Which he then handed to John to carry ... "Don't worry, I've borrowed Mycroft's card for this." He added as they stepped out of the shops.

John breathed a sigh of relief.

"How was this pair distinguishable from the others?" He found himself asking, absent-mindedly. Willing himself NOT to open the wrapping back up and slip his fingers into the soft enticing leather ...

He found he was biting his lip and stopped.

"The quality," Sherlock replied with a tilt of the head. Watching John. "You noticed it yourself?" He stated. As if it was obvious?

John's mouth opened and shut, but ... he had questions.

"A pair that fine? Hidden on a lower shelf? Think about it, John. At a fine menswear establishment? No. They should have been behind glass. Something definitely off."

"Hmm ... yeah ..." John's hand was in the bag again. Touching. He couldn't have stopped himself, since he hasn't realised he had done it! He blushed when Sherlock kept sneaking looks at him. Pulling his hand away with a cough. "What next?"

...

The case had taken them three days to crack, all-in-all. By the end of it, they had a London syndicate half incarcerated; a dry cleaning establishment as new bffs for life; a tailor or two that would willingly hire hitmen to personally see to their demise; ... and another invitation to Buckingham palace to politely decline.

It had been a good week.

As John joined Sherlock in the cab, they were both grinning ear-to-ear. It wasn't until they were halfway home that John remembered the gloves. He turned to Sherlock. Serious. "You don't think-?" He was afraid to even ask it!

"Don't think what?"

John coughed looking away out the window. Trying for non-chalance as the city blurred past ... "Oh, I don't know ... they won't like ... have to come after ... those gloves ... will they? Will we-? Have to-?" He could barely get the words out!

"Return them?" Sherlock asked, voice gentle. He understood. John nodded out the window.

John turned when he felt Sherlock’s hand covering his, where it rested on the seat between them ... He was afraid to look up.

"I didn't realize how much you would like nice things ...?" Sherlock asked.

John could hear the smile in his voice ... he caved and met Sherlock's eyes. Heart racing as Sherlock took his hand and raised it to his lips! Kissing the knuckles tenderly ...

"I had Mycroft declare them officially 'lost in the Thames' along with the crate of stolen goods the thieves threw overboard. No one will be coming to take your gloves back, John."

John grinned like a schoolboy. Fingers interlocking with Sherlock's and tapping them against his thigh. "Good. Right!" He nodded, "not that - you know ... I wouldn't have-?"

"Of course not," Sherlock was still grinning.

"I mean, I would!" John continued, unnecessarily, "if asked-?!"

"Naturally," Sherlock teased.

John caught his knowing look and they both dissolved into giggles ...

"They really do feel incredible," John confessed.

"I only bought them because of that look on your face -" Sherlock confessed.

John's jaw dropped! "You didn't?!"

"Hmm ... could've just called in the police there and then? Reported the whole thing ..." Sherlock's mouth curved to that knowing ... damning ... charming beatific smile ... "Of course I did, John!!"

"I don't know if I should kiss you? Or marry you?" John looked away, laughing. He was astonished. Floored.

"Why not both?" Sherlock replied, only half-teasing. Both looking down at their still entwined hands now ...

John drew his gaze back upward with a squeeze, "Let's start with the kissing though? See where it goes from there?" He loaded the question. Watching Sherlock's eyebrows rise. "Hate to rush things ..."

Then he lifted Sherlock's hand to his own mouth and kissed it. "Thank you for the gloves, Sherlock."

"I can't wait to see them on you, when we get home ... I like to see you wear fine things."

I will answer the next three: [Emergency Protocol] [Blade of the Knife] [Tipping Point] ... in separate responses! 😁🧤💝Ty for the asks!!!