#the world that could have been if John had listened to C— as closely as he listened to P— and the nun

[mayasaura]

Obsessed with that bit where P— told John to be a bad wizard. That they could write the history books later to say he was good, but what he needed to do now was to scare the shit out of people. What he needed was leverage.

Because that's what he did! That's exactly what he did. He got his leverage, he played the bad wizard, he scared the shit out of everyone. And then after the dust settled, when he was the last man standing, he wrote the history books to say he was good.

And like. The thing that gets me is. After all that, he named her Pyrrha.

They won. It wasn't worth it.

[captianprices40thson]

Can you make a story for October, a male reader x soap. Where before the reader joined the 141 he was in a different military unit and one evening he got captured by the enemy and was murdered by dismemberment but some mad scientist there put him back together using the dismembered pieces. He came back by being hit by lighting. So now he kind of looks like frankenstein. he doesn't have all the bolts or dead skin, but he has one sliver gray eye. the other one is a light yellow, and he also has stitches on his face and his body. When he was finally rescued and back with his team, some were afraid of him and some belittled him. So he wears full body gear now so no one can fully see him. After joining the 141 he gets hurt really really REALLY badly and a some of his stitches rip, he tries to brush it off like it's nothing but soap refuses to believe him, so he kinda forcefully pulls male readers gear off and sees him body for the first time.

I'LL LEAVE THE REACTIONS OF SOAP TO YOU. Also can you do the reactions of the 141 too. Like maybe there in the room too when soap takes the gear off...

If you're not comfy with the dismemberment, you can just have it implied.

Happy early halloween, if you celebrate it🎃🎃🎃💖💖💖🙃🙃🙃

They took the credit for your second symphony, rewritten by machine and new technology.

Pairing: John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Male Reader

Requested: Yes

Word count: 5.4k

Pronouns used: You/Yourself. Reader referred to as Y/N and male titles/compliments.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, blood, gore, dismemberment to the best best of my ability, fluff, angst, so much death on god, brutal deaths, stitches, skin ripping, bad language.

Notes: Finished this at 1 in the morning and posting it during Japanese class at school, going to go over and review it soon, but I want to get this out soon as possible. I loved this request and just saying, my inbox is open! If you’re not sure on what I do and don’t write, check my page!

“Y/N?” “Huh? “Y/N, were you even listening?” Your commander asked, a stern look on her face. You didn’t even realise how zoned out you had been, oblivious to the fact that the vast majority of your team had already prepped up.

“Oh…Sorry, Captain.” You apologised, standing up from your seat on the bench and making way to go put on your gear. Of course you were going to be a bit freaked and zoned out, this was a deadly mission. You knew your Captain was going to need everyone to be in tip top shape for this mission to go smoothly, if you slipped up and did something wrong…it would cost lives.

“Come on, Y/N. I need my best man out there today, not distracted Y/N, okay?” Your Captain told you, giving you a small pat on the shoulder. Valencia was a nice woman, even let you call her ‘Val’ on the odd occasion. She was a good person, believed in the good of the world more than one person should. She believed in you as well, she knew you could be great.

You nodded, placing your helmet on and giving her a thumbs up. The rest of the team were just waiting for you to finish up before they would leave, an indicator that this mission was already unorganised. A bad feeling, like a black hole, had appeared in your stomach.

“Alright men! Let’s do this. You all know the plan. I want Oak and Close going in from the left, Wilson and Stampler on the right. O’Niel and Bennets are on standby back here and C/N will be heading in from behind as our sniper. We have MedVac ready for those who will need it. Remember, we are going after Andrei Kowalski and his men. This is capture or kill. All clear?” Valencia cut you from your thoughts of dread by announcing the mission was about to start. You’d all get into your helicopter and make your way there…then would come the warfare and violence. You had become null to it by now, the screams and bloodshed were all but nothing to you.

It was liked you had blinked and you were on the field. Time meant nothing to you as you ran through the warzone, the occasional screams of your team members were able to be heard from miles away, sometimes the radio would cackle and you’d catch them conversing with one another, but you were alone in your field…

Always alone.

“C/N? Do you have eyes on him?” Your Captain’s voice called in from the radio, bringing you back to the mission on hand.Your eyes adjusted to look through the scope aimed at the building the team was meant to be invadinging. The lack of your team members indicated they seemed to be receiving a little more resistance than expected.

“Not yet, Captain. I see some of his guards, but not him. I’ll try and get into a better position.” You responded, getting up from your spot on the floor. Your suit was heavier and harder to move in considering it was a camo sniper version, but it was better than being spotted and murdered because an enemy saw you.

You adjusted yourself and lay down on the wet ground. The mud helped cover parts of your gear that didn’t fit in with the terrain, but you still had that odd feeling. That sense of unease that you just couldn’t seem to shake. You had gotten this feeling before on other missions, but it never led to anything.

And it was never this bad.

“C/N. They’re breaching the building now. Mission’s been changed, we’re taking out Andrei at whatever cost. We won’t be able to capture him.” Valencia’s thick English accent came over your radio, startling you a bit. You were a trained sniper, but somehow you were always caught off guard by the one thing you can always expect. You radioed back, confirming you got the message and were proceeding with the instructions.

Your voice drowned out the sound of the footsteps behind you. The cackle of the radio concealed the heavy breathing of the soldier lurking just a few steps away from you. You moved your arms to push yourself up, the rustle of your clothing covering the sound of his body standing over yours, his feet either side of your torso.

“Boo.”

You knew that voice, that unmistakable voice that always seemed to have a smirk behind it. A witty tone that had no business being there. The stench of the cigarette that always seemed to follow the man standing above you. You quickly turned your body around, abandoning the sniper rifle you were holding and just focusing on the fact that he was standing above you. Your eyes snapped up to look at him, your pupils dilating as you processed that it was in fact him standing above you.

Creeper. You had given him that name. When you served as rookies together when you first joined the force, it had become a habit for him to appear out of the blue and scare the hell out of you. He was Creeper to you even after he betrayed your team and you’re fairly certain that's what he is to everyone else as well.

“Alons-” You whispered, but he cut you off, his gun whipping around from his side and now inches away from your eyes. Your breath hitched, knowing you were done for. You looked away from the gun and back up to him, his cold dark brown eye meeting yours. The other eye was a pure white, you cringed every time you thought of the incident which caused him to be blinded. You knew he blamed you…

Maybe that's what drove him to betrayal.

“It’s Creeper, Y/N. I don’t go by that name anymore.” He hissed, his finger on the trigger twitching as he spoke. He was serious, he was going to shoot you and have no mercy about it. This was it…you were going to die here.

“I’m not going to kill you with this gun, Y/N…” He began, lowering the gun a bit. You let go of the breath you were holding from relief, but that was met with a slap to the face that was what he did next. He placed the gun back into his hold and then reached for his back. His arm was up like he was stretching, but his hand quickly grasped the axe he attached to his back and brought it down so he could hold it in both his hands.

“I won’t regret this…at all.” He spat, bringing the axe up to his shoulder like he was about to swing a bat. Your eyes went wide and before you could say anything else, he swung. He swung right down to your neck.

You had heard alot about death. You had many ideas about it. You had heard it would be painful, you had heard it would be painless. You had heard you stayed conscious, you had heard it was over instantly. No matter what divine entity you did or didn’t believe in, it didn’t matter, death wasn’t the same for everyone. If you could still create thoughts after you died, yours would be praying this isn't what it was like for everyone who did. You didn’t want every kind soul to feel the red hot poker being pressed against your skin that was your death. 

After the pain, there was silence. If you were able to think, you would be grateful for it. It would be comforting, calming to your soul to finally be at rest after an impossible amount of years without it. For once, your soul rested unbothered, ready to let go of the fraying rope that was your life.

Then you woke up.

The light was blinding, you would assume you were in heaven, but that would be entirely incorrect. Your ears rang with the most awful noise one could hear, an ear splitting ringing that would drive you insane if it was played for more than five minutes. What felt like a jolt of electricity slammed through your body like a hammer down on a nail. The blinding light disappeared as quick as a snap.

The first thing you noticed was the pain. It circled around all your main joints and connections between the body. Your wrists, knees, ankles, elbows, neck…everything ached. Then you felt the feeling of something pulling on all of your skin, like that time you received stitches in the webbing of your thumb, but everywhere else on your body that ached, along with across your face.

You tried to move your neck first, turn it and try to figure out where you were. The only thing you could see from your head being pointed directly up was a sort of dark blue hue that made the place seem depressing and creepy, like the only light was coming from the moon outside. You were able to move it, but it was stiff and harder than it would usually be. That was your first sign that something was off.

Your head looked down to inspect where you were, taking in the fact you were laying down on a cold metal table. You weren’t restrained or anything, but you were getting major creepy vibes. It felt cool on your back, it was clear that you probably hadn’t been laying there all that long, or the heat from your body would’ve warmed it up. Then you looked down at your hands as you tried to move them.

The stitches and ever so slightly discoloured skin was your second sign that something was off.

You sat up, your body rigid and hard like a doll being used for the first time. You weren’t in your normal clothes, just a simple robe that you’d wear in a hospital if surgery was performed on you, and by the looks of it, it had. 

You were able to move your arm up and inspect it, cringing at the stitches and blood. Several questions ran through your mind, the main one being ‘How the hell am I alive?’ and the second being ‘What the hell happened to me?’ Everything hurts, especially your neck. Your bones felt like they had been removed and remoulded, it all felt too weird to you. Your skin didn’t feel like your own.

A cold and icy voice broke you out of your mesmerised trance of inspecting your body. It came from seemingly nowhere. It sounded…delighted. Your eyes flickered over to the shadows in the corner, one of them was moving towards you. 

It was a man, probably around 6 feet with a stupid grin on his face. His skin was pale, paler than the moonlight shining in through the window above. He slowly walked over to you, hands behind his back like a villain.

“Finally…finally it fucking worked!” He grinned, shaking his head like he had seen something he couldn’t believe. You couldn’t blame him, what was happening was unbelievable. You quickly slid off the table, groaning as you moved for the first time in what would feel like to your body.

“What…the fuck did you do? W-What is this? What happened?!” You called out, your voice cracking as it was used for the first time in ages. You coughed, trying to make it not as itchy. It wasn’t working.

“Y/N…You’re still as animated as ever.” He grinned, gesturing to you and your stitched up body. You wanted to strangle him, clearly he had done something awful to you that you were going to get him to explain, regardless of whatever threats you had to make.

“Answer me right now you…you madman.” You hissed, walking towards him. Every step hurt, like it wasn’t meant to be taken. He smiled, taking a breath before speaking again.

“Y/N…Let me explain. Do you remember the night you went on the mission to kill my good friend Andrei Kowalski…do you remember being killed by your old friend Creeper? You should…you should remember being decapitated. Well…I was given your body…or what was left of it after Creeper chopped it up into a million pieces. Under strict orders from Andrei…to bring you back. So…I stitched you back up. Like you were my very own Frankenstien’s monster. The plan was to bring you back to life the same way Frankenstien had…and it worked.” The man smiled, seemingly okay with telling you his entire plan. You couldn’t decide whether he was stupid or just overly confident in himself that you wouldn’t escape and go find your team. “What now?” You asked, feeling the need to get into his head. After all, this man had literally just reanimated your dead body. He brought back a dead man and just stood there like an evil little Einstein.

“Now…I will bring you to him. So he can kill you over and over again…and you’ll come back every time.” He grinned and before you could react, he grabbed your hand and attempted to pull you closer to him in order to trap you. What he obviously didn’t anticipate was that your years of military training and work would stay with you and chime in when you needed it most.

You grabbed his arm, pulling him towards you and then placing your leg behind his so you could throw his balance off and keep him on the ground. You slammed him down and placed your foot on his chest, grabbing a metal rod just a few inches away from you and raising it high, just how Creeper had done.

“Y/N. Y/N WA-” He called out, extending a hand out to try and reason with you, but you brought it down on his head, instantly crushing his skull. You slammed it down over and over, making sure that if anyone even tried to bring this monster back from the dead, it would be impossible. You didn’t stop until you could see the brain sticking to the bat, that’s when you knew it was done.

You dropped the metal rod and stood there for a moment, huffing and puffing as you figured out what you had just done. You looked up from his body and to your horrible convenience, there was a mirror just in front of you. You stood in front of it, observing what you looked like.

There were clear and major differences that you could see so far. The first one being your eyes, they didn’t look the same as they had done before. One of them, the one on the left was a light yellow and the right one was a silver grey. It was creepy and inhuman, there was no pupil or iris either…just pure colour. You would question how you could still see, but you were too distracted by everything else and too high off of fear to question anything.

Your skin was neatly stitched together with a white thread, standing out against your skin tone. Most of the stitching wasn’t visible, but when it was it wasn’t too obvious, sort of the stitching you’d see on your friend’s hand when they’d get a deep cut or something. Just that, pulling your skin together. There was blood along most of the lines, the dried stuff was yours, the fresh belonged to Mr Crazy that you had never gotten the name of.

“Y/N?” A voice called out. Your eyes snapped over to the door in the corner or the room, the door was open. Standing in it, Valencia and the rest of your team. Valencia herself looked horrified as you stood over his dead body, his blood now mixing in with yours. The darkness in the lab made it look like you were a shadow, a ghost…a monster.

“Val-” You began, but were cut off by her running up to you and giving you a hug. You were caught off guard, she had never shown any affection to you, let alone physical. This was unlike her in so many ways.

“You idiot. We thought you died. We tracked your radio here but-” She spoke, cutting herself off as she made eye contact with you, or tried to. Your silver and yellow eyes had confused her, then she saw all the stitches. The one across your face concerned her the most.

“Y/N…what the hell happened to you?” She whispered, stepping back and raising her gun slightly. As the rest of the team looked over to you, they did the same. Placing their weapons in a hand that they’d be able to use in case you attacked them. You couldn’t explain yourself, you really couldn’t. Hell, even if you didn’t fully know what had happened to you, there was no way you could explain yourself.

“Captain…don’t…I-I’m not a threat.”  You whispered, stepping forward and raising your hand. To your surprise, she took a further step back, some of the men even raised their shields. She clutched her gun, raising it further to her chest. That's when you realised, you were not a human to these people you called your friends…

You were a monster.

______________________

“Why’d you join the 141?” 

“Huh?”

“Why’d you join us? You were a part of The Seekers, no? They’re a pretty elite team. Why’d you drop them for us?” Soap asked, shuffling a bit closer to you as you sat on the bench. It had been little over five months since you had joined the team and the connection between you and Soap had formed instantly. Unsurprisingly, the team members didn’t mind the fact your entire body was covered up. They had Ghost on the team, they weren’t going to judge you.

“Oh I…a mission went wrong. I didn’t feel like I could stay with them and neither did they.” You replied after a moment of thinking. For a minute, you had wanted to refrain from telling Soap the actual reason for it. Technically, it was the truth so that was going to lend a hand to your moral argument.

“Was it the same mission that…caused you to cover up?” He asked again. You thought about hitting him with the ‘that's enough’ that you had used before when he asked to see your face a while back, but you were close now. You felt he had a right to know now.

You gave a small nod, the glasses you wore over your balaclava covering your expression. You were glad he was respectful with his questions, never pushing you to answer anything you didn’t and never stepping over the line you had drawn. You didn’t want to get attached to this team as quickly as you had, but Mr MacTavish had broken down your walls quicker than you could put them up.

“C/N, Soap. We’re going to head out now, Gaz just got back with the all clear. Good to see you’re both in gear.” Ghost interrupted you two as he walked into the gear room. You were reminded that you were in fact, in the military and not some hangout session with Soap. You nodded, getting up and holding out your hand to pull the slightly shorter man up.

“Oooh, thank you M’lord.” He smiled as he took your hand, pulling himself up. You would roll your eyes if you could, so you just let out a small scoff. He chuckled as he walked with you to the deployment area, knowing they were in for a hell of a journey.

_____

“Y/N? You okay?” Soap’s voice cackled in over the radio as you made your way through the little abandoned city. The rest of the team were over in another section, leaving Soap and Gaz back at a small protected setup area. You were just so lucky to have Soap watching over you from the cameras that had been placed in all the buildings before it was abandoned. How your team had access to them, you had no clue. All you knew was that your man was here and you were to take him down.

“All good over here, Soap. Tell me if you see one of those fuckers hiding behind a corner.” You spoke back, pressing down on the radio with your gloved hand to respond to the man you were developing a small attraction to, whether you knew it or not.

“There’s a guy around the corner, knife him.” Soap informed you, shuffling from where he was laying in the safe room. You nodded, taking his advice and running round the corner, throwing and pinning the man to the wall, knifing the guy in the throat. You could practically hear the smirk in his tone when he came back.

“Nice kill. You should do that to me sometime.” He smirked, his Scottish accent only adding to his sassiness. You groaned at his painful attempt at flirting, firing back at him.

“You want me to kill you? Don’t worry, I'm already planning it.” You smiled, making your way through the destruction that was the ruined town of Norest.

“Do you have plans to kill every one of us?”

“Nope, just you.”

“I’m flattered. How’d ye do it?”

“If I tell you, I’d have to change my plan.”

“Fair play.” Soap smiled, checking the cameras to watch you move. He was so intrigued by you. He had never seen your face, never bothered to check your file. He respected you too much…along with the fact Gaz had caught him snooping around in the file area. But the respect came first.

Sometimes, he’d gaze at you and just wonder what it would be like to see what was under your gear. He wanted to see you, the real you. His sketchbooks were filled with a thousand pictures of what he imagined you looked like, each picture different from the last. Did you have bright blue eyes, ivory skin and wavy ginger hair, or did you have beautiful dark brown eyes, mahogany skin and medium length locs? Perhaps you had acne, perhaps you had a scar going across your left eyebrow. He didn’t have a clue what you looked like, but he knew you were handsome.

“MacTavish? Are you still with me?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, not even realising he was kicking his feet like a schoolgirl (Gaz was utterly bewildered, but was unable to comment because he was actually doing his job and guiding his other teammates across the town in search of the man they had to find.) “Aye, I’m ‘ere.” “Good, thought I’d lost you. I need you to check around me. Pretty sure I heard our guy but I wanna make sure.” You told him, making sure to keep quiet. Your stitches were getting a bit itchy, but you could scratch them later when you were by yourself. It wouldn’t look natural for Soap to just see you scratch the middle of your face in a specific pattern and for him to not question it.

“Right, gimme a sec.”

There was a silence, what felt like an eternity of waiting before you got a response from the scott. It was like he was purposefully keeping you on your toes, wanting to see you squirm and hide for no apparent reason other than he was a chaotic man.

“Yeah, he’s there. I’ve informed Gaz and he’ll direct Ghost and Price over to you. He’s a few metres away, you could sneak up on him and take him down from behind.” Soap spoke, clearly moving as he did. He would be looking over at Gaz and getting his readings on Price and Ghost as he explained the situation to you.

You gave a nod, knowing he could see you. Peering round the corner, Soap wasn’t lying. The dark slicked back hair, tall physique and tanned skin let you know this was your guy. You slipped your hand into your 

You ran up to the taller man, placing your gun to the back of his neck and kicking his knee so that he’d fall and you’d be able to kill him nice and swift with no hassle or fuss whatsoever. Unfortunately, the man had different plans.

He quickly turned around, grabbing your gun and throwing it to the side. You were unable to press down on the back of his knees, because he had turned around and was now facing you. You reached for your knife, but were stopped when you felt his foot on your chest. It took a second to register what was happening, but by the time it did you were shoved into an already cracked wall.

You took a moment, knowing you didn’t have one. You had most likely gotten a concussion from the hit, but you couldn’t focus on that now. Just as you were about to grab your gun which had been thrown aside, the man stopped you. He grabbed onto your mask, his nails digging in past the fabric and into the stitched skin below, and shoved your head down to the floor once more. 

The screams of Soap came in through your radio, assorted word vomic that you couldn’t actually make out with everything spinning and your ears ringing. You’d hope he’d come to you and save you, but as soon as your mind stopped spinning, you realised you didn’t actually want him to save you. There was blood dripping and staining your mask. Your blood. It was an unnatural amount for something that shouldn’t have even drawn more than a drop of the red liquid, which could only mean one thing.

Your stitches ripped.

It seemed that your enemy had also been caught off by the amount of blood, giving you just a few seconds to grab the gun, aim it at his face and completely miss, hitting his shoulder instead. He grabbed it in pain and immediately resorted to grabbing out his own knife and stabbing it right into your stomach, ripping it through the skin and dragging a line down it. You cried in pain as your flesh was exposed and your stitches ripped, causing even further damage. 

Why wasn’t he killing you? Why not put you out of your misery and shove that knife right into your face. Why make you suffer? There were so many questions and not enough time to answer them. Well, there was probably enough time, but that would require knowing what the actual fuck was going on.

“Y/N!” You breathed a sigh of relief as you heard the sound of your Captain running towards you, Ghost right behind. The unmistakable noise of a gunshot colliding with someone’s head put a smile on your face, watching as the man fell to the floor.

“Y/N, You alright?” Price asked, kneeling down beside you as you pushed yourself up against the wall. Your hand was on your chest, covering up any exposed skin or blood. You nodded, trying to pass it off as if you were just shaken up. You couldn’t let them see…you.

“Y/N! You idiot!” The familiar Scottish accent put a smile on your face, watching the Scottsman run towards you was a relieving sight at first…but then you remembered what happened.

“Y/N, you alright?”

“Don’t look.” “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“You won’t like what you see, just step away. All four of you.” “I have a right to know. Are you injured?”

“No-No just go.” “Y/N, Let me see-”

You would’ve liked to protest more, but you were losing too much blood to fight him. Soap had pulled your hands back, moving your shirt so he could see the heavy amount of blood loss. He looked up at your glasses, noticing the blood on your mask. He knew what he had to do, even if he didn’t like it. 

When he removed your mask, your glasses came down with it. Gravity had decided to fuck you over more than you had already been fucked. There was a silence as the whole team looked over at you, the ripped stitching across your face…and your eyes. They were, if anything, the biggest indicator that something was different with you.

“S-Soap…” You began, but you couldn’t figure out how to finish what you were saying. You just wanted him to say something, say anything. Instead, he was just staring. You had no idea what he was thinking about, but you just knew he was horrified with you, along with the rest of the 141. 

“Oh…oh Y/N…What…what the hell happened to you?” He whispered and to your surprise, he placed a hand on your bloodied cheek. He looked concerned…but he wasn’t scared of you like you’d expected. He got closer instead of backing away, that’s what made him different from your old team.

“Soap…I’m sorry for not telling you…or anyone else about…” You trailed off, using an arm to gesture to yourself. You had no idea what he was thinking about, you could only hope it was something good about you. He was clearly about to say something when Price butted in first.

“You two, we should go. We can all have a…chat after Y/N isn’t bleeding out infront of us.” Price’s rough British accent made him seem more serious in all situations he’s in. This one especially. Soap gave a nod and turned back to you, his eyes not full of fear or hatred…just sympathy.

_______ “Do you think I’m a freak, though?” You asked as Soap walked around your hospital bed. It had been a few days ever since the incident had happened. Soap kept a close eye on you and reported back on your condition to the rest of the team. When you had woken up, the questions were slow and boring…but now you were finally opening your walls and so was he.

“No…I don’t think you are. I mean-I’ve got no idea what exactly you are, but you’re not a freak. Just…different.” He responded, careful to not say anything that might upset you. You took note of this, feeling a bit hurt that he was censoring himself, but knowing why he was doing it helped a bit.

“You don’t have to filter yourself, John. Tell me…any questions that you have.” You practically begged him. The whole reason you covered yourself up was not to be seen as different, but now that it was useless, it was useless for Soap to cover his questions up. It took a while for him to gather up the courage to ask you something, but he did.

“What…what happened to you? I’m assuming you weren’t born like this.” He questioned, trying to add a little humour to the end of the message but failing miserably. You took a breath and told him everything. The mission, what death felt like, killing the man who brought you back to life, not belonging to your team anymore because of what had happened. By the end, you were sure Soap was tearing up. He was an emotional man, you couldn’t blame him.

“I…I’m gonna be honest, Y/N…that’s really fucking depressing.” He expressed, placing a hand on his mouth. You stared at him for a moment, his eyes staring back into yours. He was fascinated by you, what you looked like. He was sure he had a sketch in his book that looked exactly like you…minus the stitching and the eyes.

“The rest of the team…what do they think?” You asked, closing your eyes and looking up. You needed to know the reactions of everyone in the team, you couldn’t live with yourself not knowing their actual opinions on who and what you were.

“Ghost and Gaz are…surprisingly alright with it. Price was a bit shocked, he was only shown a photo of you before…all that happened. But mainly..they don’t mind. When you come back to active duty…I don’t think you’d need to cover up as much anymore. You still can, if you want. Not gonna force you.” Soap told you, sitting down next to your bed. You were grateful for him in times like these, where he reminded you that you were no longer alone. He was always there for you…you loved him for that.

You loved that he was kind to you.

You loved that Soap was so understanding and patient.

You loved…

You loved Soap.

“I will say though,” his words cut you out of your sudden very gay realisation, turning to face him as he sat next to your bed. “You are way more attractive than anything I could even imagine sketching up.” (Happy Halloween!)

[skayafair]

John, Lies and Trust, and the Dark World Pt.5 (and the last)

Part 4

Season 3 & 4

Initially I wanted to list all the parallels but: a) some have been mentioned a lot in posts by others, b) I forgot most of them and c) there's only two things I want to emphasize.

The theme of these parallels is mostly how both Arthur and John use lying, because it's not like John's the only one who can be accused of it. They both resort to manipulation pretty easily if they see this fit. Arthur is actually better at it. He was rather convincing when lying to Yellow about the glass of Cana, for example, let alone in more professional situations like with Marie. John is a way worse liar except for some specific situations. E.g. it was easy to suspect something fishy about the keys but I really couldn't tell he was lying about where to aim an axe. I'm still baffled by this, btw. Killing a person simply out of emotions? John has anger issues and a range of some others as well, but this felt uncharacteristic. Guess I just wasn't able to grasp in full how much the situation with Oscar bugged him. I still consider this the worst doing in his time with Arthur btw. That was very low.

So the things:

Arthur didn't exactly manipulate John into killing Larson (well, Uncle, since Larson was absent) but still pushed him, had a fight and made an ultimatum in the end. He knew full well how John felt about this idea, about Arthur's moral descent, and that John couldn't do anything but sit at the back of his mind and watch. Thankfully he didn't know how much worse it actually was, that John has just come out of TDW and really didn't want to get there again as a result of being stubborn and withholding from aiding Arthur which would have probably gotten them killed (plus I'm sure John didn't want anything THAT bad to happen to Arthur anyway, even during that divorce). I feel it could have been even worse otherwise. And what Arthur did was really shitty, all trauma reasons aside. I can't tell what's worse, a manipulation or a straight up abuse and forcing someone so close to help with committing a murder when they are actively against this, knowing they can't go against you and pushing onto their helplessneess. This is mostly to note that Arthur really doesn't hold any moral high grounds, but not only because of his blood lust during the lowest times in s3, but also because of this - how he treats John before coming to his senses.

The second thing is the actual parallel. Not between the deals or "Arthur's bedrock - John's bedrock" though, but between the way Arthur decided to deal with the mines monster and John's way to go about the deal. Because this is literally the same situation. It's probably obvious to others, but I noticed only after listening back to s3, so I'm putting it here. By that moment Arthur was well aware of how much John was scared to end up in TDW, which they would have if Arthur died for good. He also knew how risky his idea with letting the monster connect to his mind was. And even if everything went according to plan - Arthur was adamant on freeing the monster's victims first because if the flute's sound killed not only the monster but others connected to it too, he didn't want to put them in danger (at least that's how I understood his reasoning, John cut him off with affectionate "I know" before Arthur explained, so). However, he was going to be the last and only one still connected. If he thought others could die when he blew the flute, didn't that mean he was a dead man walking either? An important correction - two dead men walking. Except John was completely unaware. Arthur went against what John specifically asked of him, along with a very risky plan where a lot of things relied on pure luck and John's support. And he lied. The only indication was that he refused to answer John's pleading "If we get cornered, just blow the flute!" and his question: "Do you trust me?". So John's behaviour in s4 perfectly mirrors this. It started with echoing the question back to Arthur in the car, showed in his curiosity about white lies (I can't decide what it was more about - a genuine desire to learn, to have some excuse, - or to give as many hints as possible), and generally came down to "I have a goal in mind, we need to arrive to it but I can't tell you about it, that's too dangerous. I'll try to imply what I can in a roundabout way though."

A side note: I was very surprised John didn't lie about whether all people were free from the tendrils to save time. I remember listening to that part for the first time and expecting it, but it never came. Yes, Arthur would have known if John lied, since he would hear the others while connected to the monster, but John didn't know that was the plan. He still told the truth each time, even though waiting put them into more danger. That was impressive, his circumstances considered.

Lastly, I'd like to summarise this series of posts.

So John hates lying but is also repeatedly driven into a corner where his first impulse is to use manipulation as a way out or is forced to do this (hello agency issues). He learned the hard way why he really shouldn't act like this with Arthur and was determined to keep his friend's trust no matter what. That's where Kayne struck with his deal - he really knew where to aim. With both of them, really. Guess it helps that John and Arthur learned to trust even each other's lies, knowing they won't try to harm each other anymore.

So I hope they outsmarted him in this game <3

[nordleuchten]

did georges have any friends in america, i know he was trying to stay undercover but since he stayed with the hamiltons a bit he had philip who was in close age, and other kids in the hamilton house that georges could’ve talked to. i’m very interested in georges but I can’t seem to really find anything about his stay in america besides the letters with washington and hamilton♥️

Dear Anon,

thank you for the question. I really like to see all the interest that Georges received lately on this blog!

While it is true that Georges (born December 24, 1779) was quite close in age to Philip Hamilton (born January 22, 1782) I do not believe that were that close. I have never seen any source, letters for example, that suggested that the two were close. Georges stayed only a short time with the Hamilton’s and his and Philip’s friendship therefor would have to develop quickly. I am not an expert on the Hamilton’s, so somebody correct me if I am wrong, but I believe that Philip was during this time quite busy with his studies and he and his younger brother Alexander Hamilton jr. only spend the weekends with their family. If I am correct, Georges would have little interaction with the two oldest boys. He himself was busy continuing his studies and was overall in a dark state of mind. Georges, still almost a child, had gone through a series of life-changing events and did not seem to be in the mood to socialize or to find new friends. Even if he forged meaningful connections with the Hamilton children, they did not make him feel better. Hamilton wrote on December 24, 1795 to George Washington:

Young La Fayette appears melancholy and has grown thin. A letter lately received from his mother which speaks of something which she wishes him to mention to you (as I learn from his preceptor) has quickened his sensibility and increased his regret. If I am satisfied that the present state of things is likely to occasion a durable gloom, endangering the health & in some sort the mind of the young man (…).

“From Alexander Hamilton to George Washington, 24 December 1795,” Founders Online, National Archives, [Original source: The Papers of Alexander Hamilton, vol. 19, July 1795 – December 1795, ed. Harold C. Syrett. New York: Columbia University Press, 1973, pp. 514–515.] (06/28/2023)

When Georges came to live with his godfather George Washington, he seemed to have formed a close bond with Elizabeth “Eliza” Parke Custis Law and Eleanor “Nelly” Parke Custis Lewis. The two sisters were the children of John Parke Custis, Martha Washingtons only surviving son and George Washingtons adopted son. The relationship with Nelly appears to have been especially close.

Eleanor Parke Custis Lewis wrote on January 26, 1825, to her friend Elizabeth Bordley Gibson:

Georges has had a beautiful engraving of his father, a proof copy of the fine painting, framed for me. I shall bring it home soon – only two were sent from France, the Genl had presented one to Commodore [illegible], & this, George was resolved no one but me should have, & that no one but himself should present it. You may judge how precious it will be to me [paper torn] I know of his family, [paper torn] more attached I feel to them all. [paper torn] [illegible] love George dearly, indeed no one could see him, & listen to him, as we do here, & not love, esteem & respect him. The world are unacquainted with half his excellence & estimable qualities of heart & head – Did I tell you that I had received charming letters from his wife & sisters (…)

Eleanor Parke Custis Lewis, Woodlawn, to Elizabeth Bordley Gibson, Philadelphia, 1825 January 26, A-569.110, Box: 4, Folder: 1825.1.26. Elizabeth Bordley Gibson collection, A-569. Special Collections at The George Washington Presidential Library at Mount Vernon. Accessed June 28, 2023.

Eleanor Parke Custis Lewis wrote on December 25, 1838, to Elizabeth Bordley Gibson:

I am sorry, I have not received the memoirs of Lafayette. I have nor heard for a long time from my dear Brother George.

Eleanor Parke Custis Lewis, Woodlawn, to Elizabeth Bordley Gibson, Spruce Street Philadelphia, 1838 December 25, A-569.161, Box: 5, Folder: 1838.12.25. Elizabeth Bordley Gibson collection, A-569. Special Collections at The George Washington Presidential Library at Mount Vernon. Accessed June 28, 2023.

Eleanor Parke Custis Lewis, wrote on August 4, 1851 to Elizabeth Bordley Gibson:

I regret your disappointment in regard to your letter from Miss Below [?] but I have sustained a greater loss – Oscar Lafayette wrote to me immediately after the death of his father, my faithful friend & brother, giving me all the particulay of that event.

Eleanor Parke Custis Lewis to Elizabeth Bordley Gibson, 1824 October, A-569.104, Box: 3, Folder: 1824.10.00. Elizabeth Bordley Gibson collection, A-569. Special Collections at The George Washington Presidential Library at Mount Vernon. Accessed June 28, 2023.

There are several letters from Nelly, Eliza and Georges in the special collections at the George Washington Presidential Library at Mount Vernon. Most of them are from the time of La Fayette’s American Tour of 1824/25 or from later years. But there are also two farewell letters from the time that Georges and his mentor Felix Frestel left the Washingtons. While Eleanor’s letters in particular are mostly digitalized, Georges letters are only published with short summaries or keywords. I therefor mainly focused on Eleanor Parke Custis Lewis’ descriptions of her and Georges’ relationship but all that we have suggests that Georges felt the same.

While he was not a friend Georges made in America, we should not forget Felix Frestel, the man who accompanied Georges to America. Employed as Georges’ tutor prior to the French Revolution, the young man soon surpassed himself in the fulfillment of his duties. What he did for Georges, and indeed the whole family, carried a great personal risk. Once in America, he was Georges’ father, and mother, teacher, mentor, advocate, protector and friend. Georges and his family never forgot what Frestel had done, and the two families remained very close. Georges would later refer to Frestels younger son in a letter to Monsieur Guittére dated April 12, 1832:

(…) a young friend of mine, whom I love as I would love a younger brother.

Archives départementales de Sein-et-Marne - La Fayette, une figure politique et agricole (05/16/2022).

Washington commented in a letter to La Fayette from October 8, 1797:

Mr Frestal has been a true Mentor to George. No Parent could have been more attentive to a favourite Son; and he richly merits all that can be said of his virtues—of his good sense—and of his prudence. Both your son and him carry with them the vows, and regrets of this family, and of all who know them.

“From George Washington to Lafayette, 8 October 1797,” Founders Online, National Archives, [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Retirement Series, vol. 1, 4 March 1797 – 30 December 1797, ed. W. W. Abbot. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1998, pp. 390–391.] (06/28/2023)

I hope that helped and I hope you have/had a lovely day!

P.S.: You mentioned that you find it hard to come across information about Georges’ stay in America. A week or so ago I had an ask about some general resources concerning Georges – maybe that was you or maybe you have seen it. If not, you might find this post useful. :-)

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 10.3

Lucy hesitated, taking it in.  It wasn’t a grand betrayal.  Toadswallow had his goals and whatever the nuances were, he hadn’t wanted to share them.

the fact that this isn't having an immediate impact is making me nervous it's part of a longer plan from Crooked Rook

The danger is exactly that. Pressure, inexorable, annoying, sapping away enough of your focus

taylorcore

The arrow for War, the forking branch for Nature, the hourglass arrangement of two triangles with points touching for Time, the angular C-shape for Fate, and the gateway, like a keyhole without a floor, for Death. There was another, and it sometimes replaced nature, sometimes overlapped with Fate, for Fortune, but that was a newer thing.

most of these are intuitive, but I'm curious about Fate and Death. Fate is the Threads and the woven object iirc, Death is the Pale and the skull. I'm guessing Fortune would have some kind of circle as a symbol to represent the coin?

she reached into her pocket, found her phone and coiled up earphones, and selected the first song that felt thematic, close to the top of her playlist. Au Rii – Dance Into Dark. A sultry, purring guy’s voice almost straining to push through a backdrop of throbbing, dark instrumentals and a back-backdrop of synths that were just biting enough that they could be hard to listen to.

You would think having these kinds of cues would make putting together a playlist for Pale easier. You would think!

She missed Verona.  The humor, the cleverness, the idea that no matter how bad it got, her friend could pull out an idea and salvage things.  Or partially salvage things.  Verona pushed things and kept them from never falling into a rut. She missed Avery. Avery, who could normally find her way to Lucy’s side even if she was nowhere nearby. Who was decent enough as a person that it felt like Lucy was better off for it.

🥹

When she’d been afraid that this would all mount up, and that everything would fall down in a way that put all the responsibility on her shoulders.  That she’d be essentially alone against a hostile world.

as she has felt everywhere outside her home for most of her life

The music throbbed, helping to center her and make her feel attuned to Death.  Death as something seductive to the guys, because Guilherme flirted with it to add spice to life and John kept on sacrificing his frigging self and Lucy was worried it would one day stick.  Death as dark and uncomfortable and intense as an idea.

queering the attracted-to-Death binary etc etc

Edith looked down at the beginnings of the diagram.  “Don’t.” “Any reason?” Lucy asked. “Because I said not to, Lucy."

don't pull the adult card on her

“An out of control ghoul getting at family members is something that could affect Matthew or me just as easily.  But you, as so many practitioners do, seem to treat binding diagrams and your ability to entrap us in a-” There were two more gunshots. “-cavalier way. It’s easy for you and life altering for us,” Edith finished.

maybe not the time!

“I have fire, she doesn’t like it.  Others have their own ideas.  I want you to trust us, Lucy.”

then stop planning on killing her!

She abandoned the rod, but kept the ring and hot lead ready.  She could spend a minute disarming this arrangement, but… instead she reached out to touch it, laying her hand flat against the side. The weapon ring transformed it into a weapon. A squat, rectangular shotgun. Ball bearings spilled out into the floor as she tipped it down to look at the handle.

clever way to disarm it

“You’re a clever girl, Lucy,” Guilherme said.  “You’ve learned many tricks when separated from your friends.  That’s a cleverness you need to embrace and capture.  You can do this.”

Fae teachers suck! Not the time!

She’d had other scares too.  Her fingers touched her arm where the Nettlewisp had been. You like it too much. Some small, subconscious part of herself had liked being prickly.  She’d liked that aesthetic, the twining vines, the spikes, the barbs.

the aesthetic slapped!

and once again Lucy is back to choosing whether or not to pick up the knife, between being the abrasive principled leader or the diplomat

Alexander had taught them about coup and claim.  She claimed this for herself.  She found the other connections to the other bells in this building and held them firm. Shadowy hands gripped the wire above and below the bell and held it fiercely taut. The bell jostled as smoke reached toward it from one direction, tugging, ready to pull away and jangle, but a reaching out of smoke from the opposite direction made it move back to center instead.

I am mentally pairing this scene with the one from earlier this arc of setting off the bells all at once for visuals for the Lucy song on my playlist

There were answering flashes without noise.  John.  Lucy had never meant for him to keep the silence rune on the gun.  She wondered for a moment if he’d want something more permanent-

awww

“Montague!” Matthew called out.  “Secure the remaining traps!  See if you can’t get the network!  Lucy, signal him!” There was a moment, brief, where it sure seemed like the Witch Hunter had looked at Lucy.

did the Witch Hunter have her name before? Because he seems like the kind of guy who's not averse to using mundane methods to track her down

Lucy had the feeling they’d let him pursue the ghouls, surrounded him from a very wide distance he couldn’t necessarily track, where bells and his influence were thinner, and treated the ghouls as a sacrifice or necessary risk to get the man under control.

the ghouls who are allied with Crooked Rook, not with Edith

Three things happened in the same moment, and there was nothing Lucy could do about it.  Chloe was fast, and Guilherme had taught Lucy about being fast, fighting against fast.  He knew well enough what to do. But Edith was ready, too. Fire erupted between Chloe and everyone else.

I wonder if Edith didn't want Lucy putting up barriers because using fire to contain Chloe instead would give Edith a chance to weaken or kill Chloe with plausible deniability?

She turned her attention to Edith instead. Another burst of flame and the emergence of the Girl by Candlelight made her change her mind. Lucy’s eyes widened as she realized who the most apparent target was.

Or that! Keeping Chloe feral and attacking lets Edith weaken Others (with her own allies not in range?), gives her a chance to get at Lucy, and maybe even deliberately keeps the Witch Hunter in play to whittle down those Others not allied with her

Lucy found the catch that served as the trigger for the little trap, then changed her mind.  She aimed down, twisting her lower body away, and pressed the muzzle against Chloe’s thigh.

kudos to Lucy for trying for non-lethal damage in a situation this dangerous

Her eyes adjusted to the light of the moonlight outside, magnified by the mask she wore, and she saw the chalk. Marred. Smudged out. Chloe leaped past it, catching Lucy. How much of this was intentional?

fuckfuckfuckfuck.

At this point Edith's only barely maintaining plausible deniability, she doesn't care anymore that Lucy knows to not trust her

The fact that the people who had gotten hurt were not their prime suspects.  John, the goblin riff-raff, Guilherme…

people who weren't warned... I guess this is a good sign for trusting Guilherme?

Melissa stopped running, skin tearing away in folds that reached around.  She lifted up off the ground, slender, tall, dark-haired Maricica, looking down at the encircled Witch Hunter. Lucy looked away, hand cupped so she couldn’t see the man. It was clear what would happen.

welp, guess that's dealt with

The sound of it all was too much.  Lucy turned away, walking, without looking at the aftermath. No, there was more aftermath to be had. This wasn’t the sort of thing that settled this easily. The Witch Hunter had friends, he had an employer, and…

GUESS THAT'S DEALT WITH

[courfeyracs-swordcane]

teddy, king, beloved, sunbright,

what the fuck are the ballad brothers

Therse guys in my head. I don’t know very much about them but maybe making a masterpost will help? Literally I cannot emphasize enough how much I was just listening to music while I was driving and. now there’s guys in there. With a lot of implied sci-fantasy worldbuilding I don’t understand yet. Anyway!

Kyrie Aleidis Ballad

29, she/her, former sword-for-hire, current fugitive. The older Ballad Brother. Priorities include vibing and keeping things good for her baby brother (before) and trying to fix the world after it broke (metaphorically) while she was gone (after). Diagnosed big fuckoff “microchip sword like that guy from Transistor”

The Horatio to FG!C. The Gojo to Haibara. The Mordred to Gawain (HNOC). Also Guinevere (HNOC). Laertes (Hamlet). If Roddy was a little more serious and had less responsibility. Little bit of Cyclonus aswell but in a Whirl way. Dyker robobs if he was marginally less traumatized.

Alonzo ‘Toro’ Ballad

(Except only Kyrie is allowed to call him that)(Ari tried it once to be obnoxious and he punched them)

25, he/him, former Little Guy, current sword-for-hire. The younger Ballad Brother. Priorities include: being just like his sister when he grows up (before) and do you think he fuckin knows he’s just trying to get from day to day over here (after). Terminal funny bitch (emphasis on the bitch). He’s even asexual.

If Feldspar DM grew up to be FG!C/Underhill Jay Sleepaway. The Haibara to Gojo. Gawain HNOC. Tien Stormlight. Cyrus Planegays. They’re both kind of Zoro also actually. If Miki RGU grew up to be John-or-Benny OSCU. If you combined the entire Ricosquad robobs into one guy.

Ari Basil Finch (Seneca)

25, any pronouns, several jobs best summed up as Mad Scientist. (Weapons tech guy. Intern. Part time front desk in the financial department. Necromancer. Not the order they would put those in.) Priorities include: bringing their [somebody] back from the dead, causing problems on purpose. (No I don’t know who they’re trying to bring back I just know they can’t do it.)(why? good question.) Nepo baby extraordinaire. There’s something wrong with them in the brain <3

Other Things I Know:

there’s an organization

Kyrie fucked off to work there as a sword for hire when Alonzo was like 14 without saying anything (first time they had ever been meaningfully separated)

These bitches don’t have parents (possibly sci-fi shenanigans)

Alonzo found out that’s where she was a couple years later and joined up as soon as he could

Shortly before that she quit and/or got fired very very dramatically and became the organization’s Public Enemy Number One

Alonzo was kind of underground during that and he still doesn’t really know what’s going on. He’s not gonna get her ass tho.

At some point they have a confrontation swordfight on a roof. I don’t know what the deal with that is.

Alonzo and Ari have a weird fucked up gay thing going on best described as Part Time Boyfriends. Kind of dating. Also Ari is 100% milking the sugar daddy angle of Running Front Desk In The Financial Department. And also they’re kind of just coworkers (derogatory). (TLDR. POV you have to wrangle with the financial department at work to get your expenses account in order for your next assassination but you got a little too close to the guy running the front desk over there and now they think it’s funny to fuck with you)

Alonzo doesn’t have any faith in the necromancy. Heehoo!

That’s about it??? Rotations to follow.

[fanfictionismyhobby]

Sarah’s mom…

Synopsis: over a decade before the outbreak Joel loses his whole world for the first time and has to come to grips with the aftermath.

Fic has not yet been proofread!

Warnings: mentions of depression, childbirth, loss of mother,

Partners: Joel Miller/OC,

It was a cold January morning, the 6th of 2001 to be specific. Even with the cold Joel and Lena stayed warm snuggled in bed together . She was 40 weeks pregnant with their little girl. Joel had never knew such happiness, he and tommy had lost their parents young in a car accident. He didn’t know the first thing about how to handle fatherhood but he was gonna give it his all.

Lena POV:

Just as my eyes opened I could feel his hand resting on my stomach, I placed my hand on top of his and whispered, “babe my water broke wake up” and he shot up so fast and was immediately in a panic. “I am joking” he looked at me and said “oh mama why did you do that to me” I couldn’t stop laughing. “Maybe you could make us some breakfast” “anything for my girls” he leaned down kissed my belly and hopped up out of bed.

After breakfast I started to feel Braxton Hicks or at least what I thought was Braxton Hicks until the bleeding started. I was carrying the basket of baby clothes I just washed and folded for her, up to her room when I felt this dampness pooling in my underwear. I was just about to call for Joel when he walked by the stairs and must have glanced up and said “babe your bleeding” “maybe we should go to the hospital” “definitely, I will grab your bag, are you okay to walk to the truck?” I nodded. I sat the basket down right at the top of the stairs and continued back down them. He ran up them and was back in time to meet me at the bottom of the stairs. He helped me out to the truck and we headed to the hospital.

Joel Pov:

We parked and headed into the emergency room, the nurse gave us a few papers to fill out and had her sit in a wheelchair. When I returned the papers to the desk I said to the nurse “she’s bleeding pretty heavy, and is in pain, can you please get her seen” the nurse said “it’s a slow night I will see if we can get a bed for her and have her sent up as soon as possible” I thanked her and went back to Lena’s side.

They called “Lena Miller” and I wheeled her over once we got into the room, the nurse said “we are gonna have you changed into this gown and do a pelvic exam, but first I am gonna run some blood work and do an ultrasound, I will give you a minute to get changed” and with that she walked out the room and closed the door.

I helped her change and she laid down on the bed, the nurse knocked and came in. She started by drawing blood, hooking her up to the machine that monitors the heart rates. She told us the doctor would be in within a few minutes and walked out again.

She returned with the doctor who introduced himself “hello I am Dr. Lawton, but please call me John. I am gonna start out with a pelvic exam if that’s okay with you” “yeah” Lena said. The doctor proceeded and had her put her feet in the stirups and then proceeded. He was making a concerned face and I asked “is everything alright?” He spoke up and said “I don’t believe so, I think you may have placental previa, typically this is detected a lot earlier and we recommend a c-section at 36 weeks but now you are 40 weeks and already in labour, we are gonna schedule you in for a cesarean as soon as possible and move you to the delivery floor.” “Wait is the baby gonna be okay?” Lena asked “it’s honestly going to be risky for both of you, if it comes down to it we always prioritize the safety of the mother” “no.” She said it wasn’t an answer more of a statement but I tried to interject “babe we can have another baby, but theirs only one of you” “no and if that’s how you feel, then you don’t truly love her or me” “babe I just want you to be safe, I can’t lose either of you but losing you and raising her on my own, I couldn’t handle” “listen you save my baby” she looked at the doctor and said.

They told me I wasn’t allowed in the delivery room due to the severity of her case so I had to send her off. I leaned beside the bed and said “I love you and our girl more than anything, and when we get home I will have breakfast ready every morning. Listen it’s gonna be alright, I love you” “I love you too” she said. I called Tommy shortly after they wheeled her to the OR And waited.

Tommy pov:

We had been waiting for over an hour when the doctor walked out with a sad look on his face and his scrub cap in his hand. I knew it wasn’t gonna be good. He spoke and Joel’s eyes shot up. “Mr. Miller you have a beautiful baby girl, things were a little touch and go but she is recovering well in the nicu as we speak” “and Lena?” he asked. “Mrs.Miller had lost over 1/3 of her bodies blood by the time we got her into the or, we had her stabilized but after we put her under anaesthesia her blood pressure dropped and never came back up, we got your daughter out and tried everything to save your wife however she was unresponsive. She passed away on the table. I am so very sorry for your loss” “where is she?” Joel asked practically bagging the doctor said “she has been taken to the morgue, I would recommend you don’t see her until the funeral home has possession of her. I know this is very hard on you but theirs a little girl up the hall that needs you sir.” “Fuck you” Joel spat at him “again I am sorry for your loss” and with that he walked away. Joel slid down the wall and was on the floor sobbing at this point I sat down with him after a while I looked at him and said “let’s go see her” Joel nodded.

Tommy walked up to the nurses desk gave some information and was given the room number, he gathered Joel up and they headed down the hallway.

Joel pov:

I opened the door and I wasn’t sure what to expect but as I approached the bassinet all I could see was Lena, her cheeks, her eyes her nose, this was Lena. The feeling of knowing she would never see this beautiful girl is enough to almost make me sick, the nurse came into the room and spoke “hello, you must be Daddy, does she have a name?” “Yes” I spoke as I remembered going through all those name books with Lena. “Sarah, her names Sarah” “that’s a lovely name man” Tommy said. “Lena picked it, Sarah Lena Miller” I said. “We will put that on her forms, I am sorry for your loss” and with that the nurse left.

We would be okay. Just my Babygirl, and I.

[ieatsurveys]

61.

Habits

Do you tend to speed when you drive? Nah.

Do you smoke cigarettes? Nope

Does your temper flare a lot? Not usually.

Do you get emotional easily? Somewhat.

Do you get obnoxious when you're drunk? When I used to get drunk, I think so.

Which shoe goes on first? Right.

Are you lazy? Yes. But, I think that's part of my depression.

Name one thing you do that people always tell you about. I don't know.

Are you superstitious? Not at all.

Do you get bored with relationships quickly? Nope.

Can you sleep without blankets covering you? If it's hot, yeah.

What position do you sleep in? On my stomach, right side.

What do you do when you're angry? I withdraw, gather my thoughts, and then share them.

What do you do when you're sad? Lay in my bed, haha.

Who do you call when you have a bad day? My support.

YOUR ABC'S

A - is for the last person that made you ANGRY. Bahaha, my ex best friend.

B - is for BEER you prefer. I hate beer.

C - is for do you have a CAT? I do not.

D - is for can you DANCE? Nah.

E - is for do you have your EARS pierced? Nope

F - is for your best FRIEND. Cathy, Alyssa, Caleb, Josh, Holly, Jordan.

G - is for did you ever watch GUTS on Nickelodeon? Yep.

H - is for the last person who HUGGED you? Probably my Mom.

I - is for close your eyes.. what IMAGE do you see? Nah.

J - is for have you ever been to JAIL? Nope.

K - is for when is the last time you flew a KITE? Probably in elementary school.

L - is for the LOVE of your life. Don’t have one of those.

M - is for the last piece of MAIL you got. Bills, junk mail, thank you card.

N - is for do you remember NERF guns? Yes. Did they go away? I don't think they did....

O - is for do you OWN a car? I totaled my car in March. Didn't get any money back to get a new one.

P - is for your favorite PASTTIME. Sims, surveys, watch TV.

Q - is for do you like peace & QUIET? Yep. I'm an introvert.

R - is for do you like the color RED? Not red, but I like different shades of it such as maroon.

S - is for how many hours of SLEEP you need to function? Probably 9-10.

T - is for what TIME is it? 2:31pm.

U - is for what is UNDER your bed? Junk.

V - is for what you did last VALENTINE'S day. I stayed in.

W - is for do you drink a lot of WATER? I try to. It's hard to drink so much water when you work from home. I'm trying to drink more, but struggling.

X - is for have you ever had an X-RAY? Yes.

Y - is for the last person you YELLED at. My Mom.

Z - is for have you ever watched ZORRO? No.

RANDOM

Who do you wish you could hang out with right now? No one right now.

Name one thing you absolutely can not stand. Erm, peas.

Where do you spend most of your time? At my workspace, so at home.

If you could fly, where would you go first? England.

What was the best vacation you've ever been on? I loved my camping trips in the Adirondacks.

Have you ever hit a squirrel when you were driving? No.

Did your car ever break down? Nope.

What's your favorite thing to do on the weekend? GO out with people.

What radio station do you listen to most often? I don't. I only use Spotify.

Pick one: Papa John's, Dominoes, or Pizza Hut. Papa John's. I don't like either, but I guess I'd pick that.

What is the longest amount of time you've been awake? A week.

What would you do if you found out the world was ending in one week? Spend as much time with friends and family.

Do scary movies make you paranoid when you watch them alone? Yes.

Name one thing you've lied about recently. I don't remember.

What is the worst movie you've ever seen? Hmmm, not sure.

Who was the first person to ever give you flowers? Ang.

[rafescoke]

Jealous ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Rafe finds himself being jealous over his friends with benefit flirting with a certain blonde boy

Warnings: Straight smut, angst, cursing, alcohol consumption, jealous Rafe

A/N: i am so sorry JJ for making you the second choice for almost every fic ever i still ly :( anyways thank you for 380+ followers wtf you guys are beyond amazing <3 here’s the smut you guys have been craving for:

“You’re handsome.”

“Oh yeah?” JJ smiled, showing her his pearly white teeth. “You’re not too bad, (Y/N).”

“Just not too bad?” She glowered, and leaned closer onto the blonde boy. He stared into her eyes, feeling her body heat now that she was too close to him, and he could smell her sweet scent. She reminded him of an ice cream during a hot day.

“Fine,” he huffed, and watched as her mouth morphed into a smile. “You look hot, (Y/N).”

“Thank you,” she giggled, placing a soft kiss against his cheeks as he laughed along with her, putting his arms around her.

(Y/N) never really had anything with JJ, being friends with him since god knows when, but she wasn’t cool with his other friends. He was there for her, and she was there for him, but they weren’t what people would call as best friends.

“Where’s the boyfriend?” JJ asked, a glint in his eyes. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at this, being done explaining to him that she’s not dating Rafe Cameron and will never be. They were the total opposite; he’s a kook, and she’s a pogue.

“JJ, I don’t know what to explain anymore,” she grunted, resting her back against the lawn chair as she watched the partygoers dancing to the booming music. “He is not my boyfriend.”

“You’re always out with him,” he shrugged, and (Y/N) gulped before she could answer him. After being Rafe’s friend with benefits for 5 months now, she didn’t think anyone would notice their relationship. They did everything in their power to keep themselves lowkey, but here JJ was; spilling everything.

“I won’t judge, you know,” he said, and gave her a sly smirk. “I get it if you like a kook.”

(Y/N) laughed nervously, and then proceeding to cup his face in her small hands. Her breath hitched at how adorable he looked in her hands, and she felt the urge to kiss his cheeks.

“I’m not even friends with him,” she rolled her eyes, and JJ swung his arms around her one more time, this time pulling her close. They stayed in silence for a few seconds before JJ pointed to a couple by the fire, saying a joke, and (Y/N) had laughed from the punchline.

She didn’t know it was the humour or the alcohol taking over after how many shots of vodka since the start of the party. Whatever it was, she truly enjoyed JJ’s presence; her childhood friend.

Rafe Cameron entered the party with a brunette girl he owed his father to bring, and he had never looked so miserable being in a party before. People looked at them as they made their entrance, and Rafe almost let out an annoyed groan knowing that people will talk about him and whatever the name of the girl was.

His eyes swept over the swarm of dancing bodies to look for a particular (H/C) haired girl, but she was nowhere to be seen. He sighed, continuing to walk to where they served the drinks.

“Thanks for bringing me here, Rafe,” the girl said, and Rafe nodded, not wanting to make any unnecessary conversation with her. He tried to negotiate with Ward, saying how the business will still go on without him having to take whoever this girl is to the party, but Ward had insisted him to do so, saying how he should think about making his family proud.

Rafe grunted, and his feet moved towards the backyard. He was glad the girl didn’t try to follow him after seeing her friends, and he didn’t think he would even talk to her if she did. He didn’t know what he want; he was just as confused as everyone else.

“You think so?”

His head perked up at the sound of her familiar voice, and Rafe found himself searching for her small figure. His eyes passed the couple making out by the fire, some pogue munching on a burger, someone preparing to jump into the pool and then -

Her. And JJ.

He crossed his arms, his eyes not leaving her as he watched her laughed again, her head tilting to one side. Every time Rafe would tell her a joke she would do the same thing, and Rafe felt a minor pang of hurt across his heart after knowing that she did the same with JJ as well.

“You know I would love to, J,” (Y/N) said, running her fingers through his blonde hair. “But your friends just don’t like me.”

“They do!” JJ insisted, “They just think you’re too intimidating. I don’t know what they’ll think about you if they know you’re with Rafe.”

Rafe raised his brows at the sound of his name, but before he could express a proper reaction, he heard her speak.

“JJ, enough with his name,” she groaned, “I don’t like Rafe, and I will never like him.”

Rafe almost laughed at this because god, who does she think she is? She was begging for him every time they did the ungodly activity, pulling his hair and leaving scratches behind his back. Rafe had to explain to Topper and Kelce how it was Sarah’s new kitten that had scratched him when they went out for surfing, and they didn’t even have any pets.

He listened intently again, getting more amused every second. Although he wanted to hear more of their conversation, he couldn’t deny the hurt coursing through his veins at the sound of her voice practically hating on him. He didn’t know if it was an act or if it was the truth, but he didn’t like anything about it.

“Then be with me,” JJ mumbled, and Rafe watched as she nervously laughed as if that was the funniest thing in the world. Rafe stayed quiet, wanting to hear her reply to that plea, and his heart was beating so fast.

“You’re cute,” she suddenly said, pressing a slow kiss against his cheeks again. “I’m so glad I have you in my life.”

Was that a yes? Or was that a no? Rafe cursed in his mind, not having a clue about the truth behind what she just said, and before he could process it further, the girl that he came here with tugged on his arms, catching his attention.

He clicked his tongue, “Yeah?”

“I want you to meet my friends,” she smiled, and proceeded to pull him to her group of friends who were waiting by the corner. Rafe tried to maintain his grim smile, trying to figure out how in the hell this girl did not notice the obvious signs that he was trying to show;

He was not interested.

“Here’s Rafe,” she exclaimed to her friends, and continued to introduce them to him. He smiled weakly at them, not really hearing their names, his mind wandering to a certain girl a distance away.

“Rafe?”

“Huh?” He looked at her again, “What is it?”

“They’re asking if you’re joining the truth or dare game in a few minutes,” she replied, and she had a look that wanted him to say yes.

“No,” he shrugged, and he watched as her shoulders slump. “But we can stay, I guess.”

She cheered, and Rafe used almost all of his energy not to mutter anything back, and followed her to the middle of the party where everyone started to gather for whatever middle school games they were planning to play.

He sat right next to hear, flicking his lighter on and off, not paying any attention towards his surrounding until she heard the familiar laugh again.

(Y/N) giggled at something JJ had said, walking towards the circle and sitting opposite of Rafe. They didn’t notice his presence, being too caught up with each other, and Rafe watched as she laughed again. He gritted his teeth.

“Who’s playing?” A voice suddenly spoke, and Rafe assumed him to be the host of the party. He thought of how the party sucks and he could hold a better party than this, but when she saw (Y/N) saying that she will be playing, he knew he had to be in the same game as her too.

“I’m playing,” he said, and watched as the people around him stared at him. (Y/N)’s eyes widened at the voice and she quickly looked at his direction, and he watched as she tried to contain her shocked expression.

“Okay, we have enough people playing,” the host said, “We’ll start with. . . John B, wanna choose first?”

“Yeah,” John B sat up straighter, looking around the circle until his eyes landed on his best friend. “JJ, truth or dare.”

JJ put on the smirk Rafe hates, “Easy. Truth.”

The crowd groaned and some booed, but JJ still had the smirk on his face, yelling to the crowd that he was just trying to calm everyone’s nerves.

“Okay,” John B rubbed his hands together, “Who would you like to fuck in this room?”

The room fell silent as their attentions were on JJ, and JJ laughed before replying the question.

“Seriously? I thought you’re going to ask for my bank account or something, not that I have money in it. But (Y/N). I’ll fuck (Y/N).”

Rafe found himself gritting his teeth, staring straight at the girl who was also staring back at him. She had a teasing smile on her face and Rafe had to stop himself from pulling her out of this goddamn party and into his car.

“I’ll go with (Y/N). Truth or dare?”

He watched her again, his heartbeat quickening.

“Dare,” she shrugged, and the crowd cheered, finally getting any actions they were craving since the start of the party. Rafe sat up straight, wanting to see to what extend she would do something, and he would be lying if he says he wasn’t nervous.

“I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.”

(Y/N) stood up from her seat, walking away from JJ and towards Rafe. He widened his eyes, not sure if she would actually do it or if she was messing with him, but she was clearly walking towards him and everyone knows it.

She leaned onto him and Rafe swore he could feel his heart stopping. He could smell her scent now; that goddamn cupcake smell he loves so much.

“You’re drooling,” she whispered, and turned on her heels.

She proceeded to return back to her position and kissed JJ with all of her heart and the crowd cheered, but Rafe was trying to calm himself down. He felt his anger rising, being humiliated just like that in front of everyone.

He stood up, ignoring the girl beside him’s questions and continued to walk upstairs, leaving the stupid game downstairs to smoke and probably snort some coke in his pocket. He didn’t know anyone here that much, being in a party outside of Kooksville and only knowing the pogues, but he’s not friends with them so he was totally alone in this case.

He entered a guest bedroom and proceeded to climb onto the bed, taking out his stash and unfolding a dollar from his back pocket.

“Hey.”

Rafe jumped to his feet, shocked to his core from the sudden voice, but he relaxed when he saw (Y/N), though he didn’t show it. He continued to separate the powder into lines, rubbing his nose a few times.

“Where’s the boyfriend?” He asked, sniffing and lowering his head to inhale the intoxicating substance. He threw his head back, feeling warm, and looked at her again.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, being questioned with “where’s the boyfriend?” almost two times now on the same night, and crossed her arms.

“You have no power to be mad at me, Rafe,” she said, and walked closer to him. He watched as she leaned onto him like she did downstairs a few minutes ago, “You’re not my fucking boyfriend, and you know it.”

Rafe laughed, his head getting woozy, but he couldn’t deny the amusement he was feeling at that time, and god he felt like doing the most filthiest things to her.

“And if I want to fuck JJ,” she continued, her face so close to him that her voice was just above a whisper, “Then I’m allowed to.”

“Oh yeah?” He raised his eyebrows, and he stared into her eyes with a smirk tugging on his lips. “You wanna fuck him? He can fuck you better than I can?”

Her breath hitched as he trailed his pointer along her soft cheeks from the temple, and he whispered again, this time with his face so close she could feel the heat from his breathing.

“I’m asking, baby, can he?”

One thing that (Y/N) hate was being challenged, and the look that Rafe gave her fit that exact meaning.

Before she could mutter anything else he attached their lips, moving so fast she didn’t have time to catch a breath. He pushed her over so her back was against the bed, her chest heaving, and Rafe had never looked prouder when he saw her in that state.

“Wanna be a bitch again?”

“Maybe,” she answered, with that twinkling in her eyes.

“Wrong answer,” he replied, and kissed her roughly again, hearing her moans and her fingers pulling on his already unkept hair, making them more messier. He groaned when he felt her biting on his lips, knowing that he would have to create a new lie to Topper and Kelce on why his lips are all bruised.

He pulled her apart again, this time with both of their chests heaving, and Rafe swore he had never looked at someone more beautiful than the girl before him. His eyes trailed down to her chest, seeing her breast all pushed up and her nipples hard against the cold air.

He licked his teeth, “No bra?”

“No-pe,” she giggled, emphasising on the ‘ope’. She inched closer to his ear, “Making it easy for you.”

“Thanks, baby,” he replied before kissing her fully on her lips again, and slowly going down to her core. He placed his wet kisses from her neck to her stomach and down to the aching heat as she arched her back from the tingling feeling, placing her palm against her mouth to silence herself.

He continued to place soft kisses on the outer side of her pussy, his member hardening when he could see the wet mark on her panties. He watched as she bit her lips, closing her eyes from just the kisses.

“Beg,” he whispered, and (Y/N) looked up from her laying position, feeling like dying at the slow reaction from him. She groaned, desperate for her release, and bit her lips.

“Please, Rafe,” she begged, withering as he ran his fingers along her thighs. “Please, baby, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Before she could prepare herself he dipped in, collecting her juices with hid tongue and flicking back and forth on her clit. She couldn’t contain her voice anymore, whimpering and moaning his name as he continued to please her, liking the way she was so submissive under his touch.

Just like putty.

“Oh my god, you’re amazing,” she gasped, gripping onto the sheets with her fingers. “I’m close, Rafe, oh my god.”

He chuckled against her core, sending vibrations throughout her body and causing her to yell from the overwhelming pleasure, gripping on the sheets even harder she could feel it coming undone from the mattress. She could feel the familiar euphoric feeling inside of her stomach and arched her back to reach it, until-

“Rafe!”

“Huh?” He looked up to her, innocently wiping his mouth with the back of his hands as he crawled back go her. He gave her a smile, “What’s wrong baby?”

“I was so close,” she answered, with tears in her eyes. Rafe tutted, using his thumb to wipe a tear that escaped, and proceeded to press the thumb on her clit, causing her to jerk upwards in shock.

“You’re okay, baby?”

“You’re a dick,” she answered, and jerked again as he pressed his thumb into her one more time. “The biggest dickhead I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah?” He raised his brow, and placed a soft kiss against her lips. “Should I go then?”

He made a move to go away and without any shame she pulled his by his wrist back, not letting go until he chuckled, placing himself before her again.

“Answer me one question,” he whispered, and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Me or JJ.”

“You.”

“Who?”

“You, Rafe.”

“Not my name,” he said in a sing-song voice, and proceeded to fake-yawn.

“You, daddy.”

He watched her with a smile on his face, leaning closer and pressing a kiss ok her cheeks one more time. “And will you be good to me?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Rafe was harder than ever, he could basically cum just by seeing her all worked up under him. His breathing was heavy, and he wanted nothing more than to fuck the girl before him.

“Okay, then,” he sighed, and before she could process anything he turned her over, exposing her ass to the air as the skirt she wore rode up to her waist, and (Y/N) felt a rush of cold against nipping on her skin.

She yelped as she felt his palm made contact with her cheeks, spreading his fingers and massaging them right after. He liked the colour of her skin now, all red, just because of him.

He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his boxers down, letting his member springing free and watched as his precum pooled on his tip, and quickly positioned himself before her.

“Please,” she begged, and that was enough for Rafe to push into her, closing his eyes and muttering a curse word while he felt her closing on him.

“Fuck, so good for me, baby,” he swore, fastening hid movements. The girl was practically screaming under him, and he had to place his hands against his mouth to keep her shut. He groaned, feeling the warm feeling inside him growing.

“Shut up, you bitch.”

She moaned at his words, taking a liking at the way he downgrades her since the first they had sex, and pulled on his hair as she tried to comprehend the euphoric feeling inside her.

“I’m close,” she warned, tugging on his back as he pushed into her, this time with a faster speed than before. “Fuck, I’m so close, baby-”

“Cum and I’ll fucking kill you,” he groaned, pushing himself into her that he ended up balls-deep, watching her scrunched up face trying to take his full length. He grunted, feeling his own end nearing, and getting ready to pull out.

“Fuck!” He yelled, aiming his penis at her face as he shot his load, and she could feel the hot leaks dripping off her face down to her neck. She didn’t reach her high, not wanting to disobey Rafe before, and she felt like crying her hardest.

“You’re crying now?” He laughed, cupping his face with his hands and watched as his cum dripped from her eyebrows down to her eyes, and he took the chance to clean them using his fingers before placing them before her eyes.

“Suck.”

“Fuck you,” she said, her eyes glassy.

“I said,” he leaned closer, placing his knee against her core and watched her jerked again, “Suck.”

She gritted her teeth and took his fingers into her mouth, tasting him and making lewd noises. Rafe watched her with his mouth slightly parted, his eyes a shade darker.

“You’ve been a good girl, princess,” he smiled, and made a move to hold her. She pushed his hands away and he laughed, “Tell me what do you want.”

“I want you to fuck off.”

“Really?”

She bit her lips, not wanting to answer his question. In truth, she wanted nothing but for him to fuck her like it was their last day on earth.

“You still want me to fuck off when I do-” he inserted a finger inside her and she grunted, “This?”

“Y-yeah,” she answered, biting her lips.

“Are you sure? Even when I do-” he inserted another finger, “This?”

“F-fuck, yeah,” she gripped the sheets, feeling the familiar feeing knotting in her stomach again for the third time.

“Really?” He sighed, and took his fingers out, pretending to wipe them on his shirt. “Guess I’ll go. Respect the lady, you know?”

“Fuck you,” she said, and Rafe chuckled when she took ahold of his fingers and inserting them into her by herself, arching herself at the feeing she’ve been craving since forever.

Rafe bit his lips, watching her guiding his fingers and he wished he had his phone with him so that he could record this moment and watch them over and over again.

“Close, baby?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, thrusting against his fingers. Rafe sucked in a breath, hearing her moans, and before he knew it she released himself against his fingers, screaming his name as she reached her high.

He laid himself beside her, staring at the ceiling as they tried to catch their breaths again. (Y/N) turned to look at him, and when he noticed she was looking at him he turned his head to her in the same way, so they were both staring at each other.

“You’re still an asshole.”

“I know.”

“And I hate you.”

“I know,” he smiled, and god, (Y/N) never had a stronger will to slap that stupid smile from his face.

“You love me though,” he suddenly said, and (Y/N) turned to look at him again.

“God, you’re full of yourself.”

“You just don’t want to accept the truth, (Y/L/N).”

“Whatever,” she got up, searching for her discarded panties and fixing her fallen top and skirt. She ran her fingers through her hair to disentangle them before making her way towards the door, only stopping to look at him before she could return to the booming music.

“See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

-

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[angellissy]

Hey :) I’ve never requested anything before so I’m sorry if i do it wrong hahah

But could I request something where instead of ward faking his death it’s rafe who has to do it and none of the pouges know about your relationship until it’s you crying in the dock instead of Sarah. And when you and the piggies go on the “rescue” mission to get Sarah off of the boat you see rafe and eventually end up staying with him and leaving your friends

I’m sorry if this is really long xx thank you for taking the time to read my request

R E A C H I N G  F O R  T H E  S U R F A C E

SEASON TWO SPOILERS!

rafe Cameron x Reader

warnings: angst with a big a, canon rafe (maybe a bit softer), toxic relationship, rafe playing the victim card, death and talks of suicide.

a/n: I feel like it is of importance that I tell you all that I have done everything in my power not to romanticize the rafe cameron character and if I have then please kindly let me know because sometimes it can be hard. However I still need to say that I am writing through the eyes of the “reader” who very much still cares for this boy, which also means that the way the reader deals with things might not have been your way. If any more warnings should be included in the beginning, feel free to let me know. I hope you enjoy this fic which I am actually very proud of. A big thanks to @snkkat​ who is my proof reading buddy. Also thanks for sending in the request, I LOVED writing it! <3

They say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes, but how about when you watch someone else die? For as you watched him die, the life and moments the two of you had shared flashed before your eyes like a string of reminders of a life and love lost. It felt as if there was no air for you to breathe, you weren’t even sure how long it had been since you managed to take a full breath. Your mind was running in circles, trying to grasp what had just occurred, replaying the scene over and over again until you were not even sure what reality you were in. With a hammering heart and a split soul, you were kneeling on the dock, just minutes after watching your first love take his own life. You could not even remember how you had gotten out here in the first place, you just wished that you would have stayed behind as all your friends rushed toward a disaster in waiting. Perhaps that would have spared you some of the heartbreak, spared you from hearing him scream that he loved you one last time, spared you from seeing his boat go up in flames. But no, you were sure that for as long as you lived, you would see that blazing inferno whenever you closed your eyes.

There were arms around you, an attempt to soothe your shaking body, it only made you feel more trapped in a memory you would never escape. Those arms lifted you up and suddenly you were walking, mixed in all the anger and sadness there was a surprise that your body was even able to function. It felt as if you were outside of your body watching everything occur, you watched as Kiara and JJ helped you sit down on a sofa and as they draped a blanket over your shoulders. You watched it unfold, but you couldn’t feel it and there was no way that you would be able to respond to their worried questions. Instead, you were stuck in a mind that replayed everything Rafe had ever said or done to you as if that somehow could manifest him back to life. That stuck-up boy with the golden hair had been your first boyfriend, complicated as the relationship may have been, it had been the first time you ever experienced something close to love. Just days ago you had stood before him, tears in your eyes and heart in your throat as you called the relationship off. For a very long time, he had not been the boy you fell for, but rather a ghost of who he once was. Where he had once been sweet and tender with you, there had only been cold stares and words sharp enough to cut through ice. You were not oblivious to the fact that he struggled with issues you could never comprehend, but you refused to be an accomplice in his undoing. Time after time you had tried to be the person he could cling to when the world sat heavily upon his shoulders, but you soon realized that love and affection could not solve all problems. Oh, and you had loved him so much that you would have done anything for him to smile at you the way he had when he uttered those big three words for the first time. He had watched you with eyes that held so much adoration that you thought that they would never dim, that they would shine brighter for each time his eyes found yours. But eventually, they had dulled, and so you had realized that you would not sacrifice yourself no matter how much you cared for him. It did not matter that you had called things off with him or that you had decided to leave him in order to save yourself, for the knowledge that he was actually gone made it feel like someone was clawing at your heart and trying to rip it apart. It felt like no time in the world would be able to heal the pain in your chest or dry the tears falling from your eyes.

Time was indeed a funny thing, how seconds turned into minutes and how then those minutes became hours. Hours that you spent reminiscing over a life you thought you had given up before it was lost forever. You clung to the memories of him as if they were the lifebuoy keeping an anchor from pulling you down in a sea made up of your own sorrow. You knew that you were staying in your own made-up memories of a relationship with more bad times than good, but a part of you felt that you could not grieve the person he had become. For he had been vile and horrid, and if you acknowledged that, you would feel guilty for the sadness overwhelming you. So yes, you stayed in your made-up reality and wept for the boy that could have been. As hours turned into days, your friends made every effort to comfort you and try to get you out of the room that had become your place of mourning. Their tries aggravated you, for they did not understand the feelings rushing through your body at such speed it made you lightheaded. Each one of them had hated Rafe Cameron with at least one bone in their body and you knew how some of them had looked the day he died as if they were content that he was finally gone. Relieved that he could no longer plague them with taunts and threats that might have become reality was it not for his passing. You might have understood this, had it not been for the grief and guilt plaguing every bone in your body.

As days turned into weeks, you eventually came to appreciate their efforts to help you. It was like your vision was starting to clear and you could finally start trying to live your life again, and the first step to doing that was always to surround yourself with people that made you roar with laughter. Their ventures to try and find the Cross of Santo Domingo, were helpful, to say the least. Those adventures were as distracting as they were terrifying since the outcome was never given. Your mixed friend group of pogues and kooks had actually found that damn cross as well. Who would have thought that a bunch of high school kids would be able to find a historic relic? The answer would have been no one, and that is why you don’t underestimate kids with no limits. The cross had been in your grasp until a greedy and manipulative Ward Cameron came along and grabbed it. Ever since that particular happening, things started going south fast and it all ended up with Sarah being kidnapped by her own guardians. It also ended up with the rest of you stowed away like cargo on the ship she was on. While John B and Pope carried out their plan to find Sarah and the famous cross, you, JJ, and Kie sweated from every pore as you waited to hear from them. You had zoned out, staring mindlessly into one of the walls of the container, in the background you could hear your two friends talk about their dreams for the future. Something about going on several surfing trips at various destinations with each other, and that part made your heart ache. Sure, after everything he had done, a future with Rafe had not been one of your dreams. Still, as you listened to your friends talk, you could only remember a time where he had been everything you wanted in life. You pressed your palms upon your face as if you somehow could force every memory of him to remain in that little part of your brain where you were hoping they would become forgotten. A loud clank dragged you out of your thoughts and you looked up just in time to see Pope and John B climb in through that small window opening, followed by a woman you had never ever seen. Shortly after that, problems started to arise and soon all of you were scrambling out of the container in hopes of not being detected by the workers on the boat. They were in obvious search of all of you, which made you sweat even more than you had done inside the container. All of you received different plans on how to tackle the situation, yours was to act as a lookout for John B as he searched for Sarah.

You followed him down to what you could only assume was the boiler room since steam was thick in the air and you took your place by the door as he ventured further down. His desperate cries for Sarah echoed through the room and you dearly wished for a response to be heard, but there was nothing except the sound of his shoes against the floor. Thump, thump, thump and then utter silence until John B utters a name that made it feel as if the floor was pulled away from under your feet.

“Rafe.”

One of your hands finds the doorframe, a poor attempt to steady yourself as you try to figure out if this is a trick played by your grieving mind. You take a few breaths and as the silence is once again interrupted by two raised voices, you follow John B’s path down into the room. The heart in your chest is beating so hard that it feels like you are going to throw up, and it only gets worse the nearer you come. At first, you only see your friend, but then you look past him

and

your

heart

stops.

Rafe Cameron had died in front of your very eyes, so either the gods were playing a nasty cruel joke or you had lost the battle with your mind. You shut your eyes just to open them again, and no matter how many times you did it, he still remained. What happened next was a bit peculiar to you, for weeks you had drowned in grief where sadness was the constant emotion, but as you looked him in the eye and saw that he was very much alive, rage and anger crushed into you with the force of a thousand waves. You stepped toward him, only for an arm to shoot out to stop you, and John B added to his gesture by saying “Don’t”. Laughter bubbled in your throat, for who was he to tell you what you could or could not say to your “dead” ex-boyfriend who seemed to never stop causing you grief.

“Find Sarah.” John B hesitated for a few moments before following your unspoken order to leave you and Rafe alone. It wasn’t surprising considering that his worry for Sarah would always overpower anything else. Once again you looked into Rafe’s blue eyes, remembering a time when you used to stare in them for so long you would see specks of green and grey. Had you searched for those colors now, you would probably have found them. However, you were trying to decipher whatever feeling that was shining in them, was it anger? No, his other features were too soft for that and the hand holding his weapon had gone slack as he watched you. Maybe it was relief? No that was not it either, for why would he be relieved to see you? You were not the one who had died and left the other behind. You stepped even closer to him, the simmering anger inside of your veins made your hands shake and he looked at them briefly as if he wanted to take them in his. Your hands clenched into fists and you watched as his shoulders dropped the tiniest bit, and suddenly you knew exactly what was shining in his eyes.

Love, and sadness. Your heart started to speed up again, and you knew that once you opened your mouth, the anger and grief that had become part of you, would tumble out in words that you would never be able to take back. But he had done something much worse, so he would listen, you would make sure of it. Your lips parted slightly and he must have seen it for his words came first.

“I- fuck I am sorry okay? But I had to do it, you wouldn’t understand but I had to do it, it was the best for everyone.” As he says this you can’t help the sound that slips through your lips, it was supposed to be a laugh but it sounds more like a sob. His eyes flicker between you and everything else in the room as if there was anything in here that could save him for this conversation. You move your hands toward your chest and his eyes watch as you press them hard against your chest, against the heart that won’t stop breaking.

“Best for everyone?” Your voice is the combination of a whisper and a ragged breath “Did you have my best interest in mind when you let me believe you had blown yourself up?” He winces and makes an attempt to say something but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Did it ever occur to you how your little stunt would affect the one person who still, despite everything, loved you?” This time, your voice has started to rise towards something like a scream, and how could you not scream when there is so much sadness inside of you that it felt like just looking at him would turn your body into a pool of water.

“You broke up with me, so don’t start acting like a victim where you aren’t one.” His features are starting to morph into those he carries when anger overcomes him, but you will not back away from this. Your hands are in your hair, pulling at it as if that would help you make sense of this situation. “You broke my heart long before I broke yours.” You can’t help the way your voice breaks or the tears that start falling from your eyes.“You needed and still need help and until you receive that help, you are prone to hurt anyone in your vicinity.” Now it is his turn to drag his hands through his hair and his breaths come faster and faster until you realize that he is starting to hyperventilate. He sinks to the floor and you follow, not sure how to help when it feels like his state is mirroring your own. With cautious movements, you place your hands on his shoulders, and the shaking of his body sends trembles throughout yours. For a while nothing happens, you just sit there with your hands on his body and watch him fall apart. Perhaps you should have been glad that he was suffering, after everything he had done to you he deserved it. But you couldn’t feel anything other than anguish and as a sob escaped his body every restraint you had kept on yourself broke and you hugged him towards your chest. You could never save him, but he clung to you as if you had the power to undo every wrong he had ever done. After a while, he looks up at your tear-streaked face and one of his hands reaches up to cup it. You want to look away because you can see everything in those eyes of his, every regret and every wish he has ever had. His forehead leans towards you and you feel his hot breath against your skin. As you breathe in the scent of cologne and feel his skin against yours, you feel overwhelmed by the fact that he is actually here. You notice that his lips part and for a second you are scared that he is going to kiss you, but he must know that there is a limit to your patience with him so he just whispers words with the promise of what could have been. “I wanted to be good for you.” A small smile takes place on your lips and you close your eyes as you try to restrain the well of emotions inside of you. “I know Rafe, I know.” He breathes out a little, almost as if he is relieved that you are aware that he tried in a world and with a mind constantly working against him. You knew, but you also knew that there was someone else out there for you. Someone who would love you in a way that Rafe would never be able to, in a way that would not send the two of you to the bottom of the ocean. Whoever was out there would make you swim. For so long you had wanted to believe that Rafe was the one, despite all his flaws you would have given anything for him to be your future. It was a relief to know that you could and deserved to have more. But you also knew that you needed to do something before that could happen.

“I will stay-.” Before you could even finish your sentence he whipped his head up to look at you with such hope you never wanted to continue talking. You swallowed hard and forced yourself to go on. “I will stay with you just to make sure you receive the help you need.” His whole body deflated and you had to bite your lip in order not to cry again. Eventually, he nodded and you closed your eyes in relief. You knew that this had to be the right move, no one else would listen to him or make sure he got help, so you needed to be the one to did. Just enough so that you finally could start swimming towards the surface.

[lick-me-lennon22]

How they calm you down when you're very stressed/having a breakdown 💜

thanks so much to @betchq who requested this one! hope you enjoy :) 💕

(these ended up wayyy too long.. whoops :P)

Paul:

it's all too much- you can't take it anymore

one minute you're sitting on the bed venting to Paul about work and family troubles- frustrated, but not devastated- and suddenly you've spiraled again

you're practically hyperventilating, gripping the duvet so hard your knuckles turn white, sobbing about how unfair the world is and how you'll never truly be happy

"Woah, woah, what's this all about darling?" he interjects tenderly, a gentle finger lifting your chin up to look at him, briefly breaking you from the hope-devouring clutches of your panicked mind

"It's -*hic*- just too m-much to handle Paul, I -*hic*- c-cant do it anymore," you manage to squeak out between sobs, your voice wavering and your lip quivering

Paul gazes into your tear-filled eyes, scanning them with his own in an attempt to gain understanding, a deeply concerned expression on his face

he places a firm, loving hand on each of your shoulders, eyes still locked on yours

"Listen to me, my love- nothing, and I mean nothing, is so wrong or bad that you can't take it on, or that this world would be better off without you. I know things are difficult for ye right now and it's completely understandable that you're overwhelmed- but you will get through this. And I will stay glued to your side every step of the way"

you inhale shakily, the cascade of tears that once flowed down your cheeks slowing to a halt as Paul continues his pep talk:

"Regardless of how daunting and scary it seems and no matter what it takes, you are going to be okay- more than okay, you are going to get through this and emerge from it even better off and happier than ever before. Ye hear me?" he says sincerely- his gaze stern, piercing, and comforting all at the same time

you nod slowly, eyes glimmering with residual tears, and sniffle once more

"You are the strongest, most capable, and most resilient person I know. I don't ever want you to feel that the days are becoming too heavy for you to handle. And if you do you know you can always, always come to me, no matter how insignificant you think your struggles are- they're not. I don't care if I'm 'busy,' nothing ever takes priority over you and your wellbeing, Y/N. I mean that."

you smile up at him with appreciation as he wipes your cheeks with his thumbs

"T-Thank you, Paul. It all just gets so overwhelming.. I don't know what I'd do without you"

"It's no trouble at all love, that's me job"- he gives you a small smile and pulls you in for a long, gentle hug

"I adore you Y/N, you are my whole world. Promise you'll come to me if you ever feel this way again?"

you nuzzle into Paul's chest: "I promise"

"That's my (girl/boy/love). I love you more than anything in this world- don't you ever forget that" ♡

John:

you don't even hear the front door open and shut, the sound drowned out by your sobs combined with the melancholy tunes coming from the record player on your dresser

"Y/N, I'm home!" John calls out, kicking off his shoes and coming to find you

he searches for you on the couch, at the dining room table, and then in the kitchen- but you're nowhere to be found

That's strange, he thinks, Y/N's almost always sat on the couch waiting for me when I come home...

"Where's my sweet birdie?~" he tries, striding briskly down the hallway to your shared bedroom, still in pursuit of his partner

John raps his knuckles against the wooden door and waits a few moments for a response

when he doesn't get one he turns the doorknob and pushes his way in, panic flooding his mind and senses

nothing could have prepared John for what he sees- the love of his life curled up fetal-style in bed, clutching the blanket for dear life, cheeks glistening with tears and features screwed up into an agonized expression

he rushes to your side immediately, placing a firm hand on your shoulder and shaking you softly to alert you of his presence

he spooks you and you startle, eyes snapping open in shock

"Are you alright, love? What happened- did somebody hurt you?? If someone upset ye I swear I'll make 'em rue the day they were born-" he seethes, interrupted only by you sitting up against the pillows and taking his hand in yours:

"J-John, calm down, I'm fine.."

"Did.. did I do something? Was it me? Tell me what I did wrong Y/N, whatever it is I'll fix it I promi-"

"No John, you've done everything right," you sigh

"It's j-just.." you trail off, unable to meet his gaze

he waits for a moment before encouraging you with a "Go on darling, you can tell me anything"

you take a deep, shaky breath before continuing- "Everything is so overwhelming and heavy.. just living feels like too much some days. I don't know what to do John, I'm downright miserable!!" you exclaim, your eyes once again welling up with tears

"..Oh sweetheart, come here" he opens his strong arms, pulling you in for an emotionally charged hug

John isn't the greatest at discussing feelings, so he offers comforting words instead

"Shh, everything's alright... I'm here, Johnny's got ye" he soothes, stroking your hair as you quiver in his arms, your body wracked with sobs

"I-It's just one of those days where I don't know how I'll ever b-be -*hic*- happy" you croak out, clutching his body close to yours

John draws in a deep breath before responding: "I understand how you feel- I've had plenty of those days meself," he confides in you

"But we can't let them stop us from living. Sometimes your perspective gets all screwed up and ye can't see through the bullshit your mind hurls at you,

"But one bad day is still just twenty-four hours, ye know? It helps me to think about that- that this too shall pass," he reassures you candidly, rubbing gentle circles into your back

"I know it seems impossible right now, but you'll- we'll," he corrects, "get everything sorted- including that pretty little 'ead of yours- and you'll feel like yourself again sooner than you know. Got that?" he asks

you simply nod, beginning to calm down but unable to speak just yet, and nuzzle further into John

he squeezes you tightly: "Y/N- ye know I know what it feels like to be stressed and depressed, and I just.." you hear John start to choke up and feel him tremble as he begins to cry, himself

"-ah don't ever want ye to feel hopeless like I 'ave, you know I'd take it all away in an instant if I could" he says, trying and failing to mask the wavering of his voice

"Even if it meant I'd have to take it all on meself instead, I can handle it- I'd do anything for you Y/N, I've never loved anyone or anything like I do you and it hurts me to see you in such pain"

John's voice breaks at the end of his monologue and you hear him sniffle

with that, you finally speak up: "Oh John, I'll be okay- I promise. Thank you for changing my perspective, it's just so difficult to pull yourself out of despair sometimes.. some days are just so.. heavy" you say, pulling back and looking up at him; "I didn't mean to make you cry too"

you dry your face with your sleeve and John takes your hands in his

"Y/N you know I understand completely, and I want ye to come right to me when the days get too overwhelming- I'll be sure to set your perspective straight. Don't you ever worry about making me upset or anythin' of the like, okay love?"

you nod- "And besides, I ain't crying" John says somewhat defensively and shifts his gaze away from you, still clutching your hands in his larger ones

you chuckle softly and roll your eyes at him- "Whatever you say Johnny.. you can't fool me, I know you're a softie" you tease, booping him gently on the nose

he pulls one hand back from yours, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly- "Yeah, yeah, that's enough" John says, expression hardening as he tries to disguise the grin making its way across his face

you place a hand on his cheek and turn his face to look at you

"Thank you, John. I feel so much lighter now"

"Ahh, don't mention it darling. Anytime at all- you mean the world to me. I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, John." ♡

George:

to your boyfriend George, it's a day like any other

he walks down the hallway to your shared bedroom, fizzy drink in hand, intent on watching some cartoons in bed with you

he knocks and upon hearing your, "Come in!" enters the room with an "'Ello, gorgeous!"

"Room for one more? I was thinking we could have a cartoon marathon this evening- what do ye think?" he proposes, approaching you and taking a sip of his drink

you hesitate a moment before answering: "Yeah, that's fine Geo" you say flatly, punctuated with a quiet sniffle

"...Are you feeling alright, dear? What's got you down?"

George sets his glass on the nightstand and sits beside you in bed

"Nothing's the matter babe, I'm okay" you mutter unconvincingly, avoiding eye contact

George studies your face, just now noticing the red and puffy appearance of your eyes

"Have you been crying..?" he asks gingerly and places a gentle hand on your cheek

you finally turn to look at him, sighing: "...yes but before you freak out, it's really nothing- just one of those days, you know?" you offer George a weak smile, downplaying your stress

"Y/N." he begins sternly, "I can tell when something's wrong. Do you want to tell me about it, doll?"

"I would, but there really isn't much to talk about... it's just life, I guess. Nothing specific" you shrug

"It's not 'just' anything- if it matters to you, it matters just as much to me," George reassures you sweetly

"Thank you Geo, but I don't know what to tell you. I just feel...tense and pessimistic, you know?"

George nods in understanding: "Really just that sort of day then, eh? That's the worst- ye can't target anything to fix it," he sympathizes and you nod in agreement

"Tell you what- I don't care if it takes all night, I'm gonna do whatever it is I can to make you feel comfortable and calm, all right? Starting with getting some food in ya- I know that always makes me feel better" he grins

you offer him a half-hearted smile, as much as you can muster in your state

"Of course it does, George" you chuckle, "that sounds lovely"

George disappears down the hall and returns just moments later kicking the door open, arms full of snacks and sweets (including jelly babies)

your face lights up at the sight of him

he unloads everything, opening his arms and dumping it all on the bed for you to choose whichever item you please

"Thank you, Geo" you giggle and grab one of the bags of crisps, opening it and promptly reaching in for a handful to munch on

"Anything else I can get you, darling? Anything at all?"

"Hmm.. no, I don't think so-" you start, but George cuts you off before you can finish your sentence

"Oh I know! You need a nice, warm cuppa- that'll be sure to soothe you. Be right back, love" he says and with that, he's out the door once more

you wait patiently in bed for a few minutes and graze on the treats George had brought you until he reappears, a ceramic mug in one hand and a box of tissues in the other

"Here you are dear," he says, handing the mug to you and placing the tissues on your nightstand- "I thought you might need these"

"You really didn't have to do all this, my love- thank you. It really warms my heart" you tell him earnestly, "I already feel so much better"

George beams at you: "Of course gorgeous, it's no trouble at all. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Hmm..." you contemplate his question for a moment before responding- "Just one more thing, I think"

"What is it, Y/N? Anything at all, just say the word"

"Get over here and cuddle me!"- you lift the blanket and invite him to lay with you

"I thought you'd never ask" George says cheekily and hops into bed, pulling you close to his chest to spoon you

(and reaching over you to grab an overflowing handful of crisps, shoveling them into his mouth)

you can't help but laugh and snuggle into George, your worries forgotten

"Thank you, Geo. You're the best"

"What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't look after my (girl/boy/love)? And besides, it's no inconvenience at all- don't you worry. I love you, Y/N"

"And I love you, George" ♡

Ringo:

Ringo has always made you feel safe, heard, and loved, and he's assured you that you can confide in him whenever you need to

he's made it a point to tell you to come to him whenever you need him, and that he'll drop everything to help you in any way he can

on one particular evening, nothing seems to be going right for you

you're beyond stressed and overwhelmed, and you can't help but break down from the pressure and weight of the world

at first when you step out into the living room, face red and tear-streaked, Ringo is oblivious

he carries on watching the television, gaze locked onto the technicolor screen

"Ritchie..?" you say meekly; "What is it, my love?" he calls out, eyes still fixed on the telly

upon seeing how invested he is in the program, you suddenly feel like a burden despite what he's told you numerous times before about coming to him when you're upset

"Umm.. nevermind" you squeak out, about to turn and drag yourself back to the bedroom when Ringo finally whips his head around to face you

his wide eyes take in your pathetic, hunched frame- hair tousled, eyes puffy and blanket pulled tight around you

"Oh my- sweetheart, are you okay? What's wrong?" he scrambles up off of the sofa and rushes over to you, panic evident in his expression

he places his hands on your shoulders and looks you over, eyes searching yours for answers

"Yeah, I'm okay" you sniffle, "but.. remember all those times you told me I should come to you if I'm ever stressed out?"

"Of course I do love, what's got you so stressed?" he inquires delicately, rubbing your shoulders

"Life, existence, everything!" you confess, exhausted

"Oh honey, everything's alright- I promise! Come here" Ringo beckons you closer and smothers you in one of his renowned bear hugs

you begin to sob quietly into his shirt

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's come over me today, I don't want to burden you-"

"Love, don't you ever worry about being overbearing or burdening me- I am always ready and willing to help you, please understand that. Managing your stress is so important and I'm thankful that ye came to me. That's what I'm here for" he reassures you as he holds you close to him

you sniffle and tremble, your tears soaking through his cotton t-shirt

"Shh, everything's going to be fine. It's okay to cry" Ringo soothes

"It's just a bad day. It doesn't mean that everything is falling apart, I promise. I'm right here. We've got this, together- you and I could take on the whole world if we had to!"

you pull back from his embrace and gaze into his eyes; "Really?"

"Of course we could, baby! Now let's get you to bed, how about that?"

you nod and Ringo lifts you up, carrying you bridal style to your shared room and setting you down gently on the bed

he swaddles you in a blanket burrito and proceeds to kiss your tears away, peppering your face with little smooches that make your heart flutter and your mind go blank

"Ritchie!!" you exclaim, giggling

"What? Kisses are the best medicine"- you agree, as long as they're his at least

once he's finished administering your treatment, he asks: "What else can I fetch ye, cutie? Anything?"

"You!"

"Why, of course!" Ringo's grin widens, lighting up his face as he pulls you close to him in bed

you rest your head on his chest and close your eyes, the dull thud of his heartbeat lulling you into a serene state of mind

for the remainder of the night Ringo refuses to leave your side, even when you drift off into peaceful slumber at last

"I love you, Y/N" he mumbles, the last thought occupying his mind before he too dozes off to sleep ♡

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(TFATWS) Bucky x Reader: Protective- Part 1

 (Author’s Note: I watched TFATWS and loved it.  So here we are).

 The tension had finally fizzled out an hour or so into the trip- at least for a little while.

   Your consulting criminal, Zemo, made himself comfortable as soon as he set foot on the jet.  He was leaning back in his seat across from you, looking very pleased as he read a book and took an occasional sip from his champagne glass.  His contented demeanor had visibly affected both of your friends, Sam and Bucky, causing their irritation with him to skyrocket earlier.  But after some of the confrontations concerning Bucky’s inherited notebook from Steve, Sam’s music, and Zemo’s observations of you, things had finally calmed down.

   He was a crafty one.  He knew how to push buttons, knew exactly what to say to trigger each individual’s weak points.  Things had begun to escalate especially when Zemo turned his attention to you.  His piercing gaze had you frozen in place as he made inquiries.  While he didn’t ask anything outwardly uncomfortable, the probing questions about your life were starting to make you uneasy.

   The other two males didn’t take too kindly to Zemo’s attempts at conversation with you.  Bucky stared out the window with his jaw clenched.  At one point, Sam let out an exasperated sigh, causing the criminal to halt mid-sentence. He leaned over to raise his brow at you diagonally across the aisle of the jet.   “_________, is he bothering you?”

   You didn’t have to speak: the look on your face said it all, and Sam shifted in his seat again to look over at Zemo.  “Alright, that’s enough.”  His tone was firm and leaving no room to question.

   Directly across the aisle from you to your right, Bucky’s shoulders relaxed when Zemo followed Sam’s command.  The jet had fallen silent except for the muffled whirring sounds of its mechanics.

   You pretended to skim through a magazine that you’d found laying on a tray.  With one hour down and twelve more to go on the flight, you felt the need to unwind a bit.  Everything had happened so fast from the moment you agreed to go with your friends to Berlin to see Zemo.  After Thanos’ horrible plan came to an end, things heated up when John Walker went public as “the new Captain America.”  He’d even offered you a place working with him since you were part of Team Cap back in the day.  You declined, of course, and found yourself even more determined to help Sam and Bucky.

   You were happy for Steve.  You were.  It was still hard to have him gone.  For years, ever since the Avengers broke apart over the Sokovia Accords and Bucky’s framing, you’d followed Steve.  Even before then, when it was discovered that Hydra had been infiltrating SHIELD, you’d left the broken agency to join him as he continued his fight against threats to the world

   You hadn’t imagined that you and the others would be left to keep fighting without him.

   “You in the market for a new grill?”

   You were drawn from your deep thought to a set of dark blue eyes that looked from you to the magazine page that you hadn’t turned in at least ten minutes.  You chuckled and closed the magazine, playing along.  “Yes, I figured with all this extra time, I’d do a little shopping.”

   The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched up in a brief show of amusement.  You rose from the seat to go to his side, kneeling down beside his chair.

   “Why does he even have this?”  You lowered your voice as you glanced at the eccentric baron, setting the magazine back down onto the tray.  “You’d think there would be more European fashion magazines or something.”

   Bucky’s eyes flickered to the man in question before leaning in to speak in an equally quiet tone.  “I have to admit.  We lucked out with him.  Not only does he have a lead, but he’s got private transportation so we can stay under the radar.”

   “I think we made the the right choice going to him,” you replied.

   “We can only hope,” he muttered.  “Seriously though, what were you thinking about when you zoned out?”

   “Oh.”  You averted your gaze, playing with the hem of your jacket.  You didn’t want to delve into your train of thought.  It was plain as day that Bucky and Sam were both dealing with Steve’s departure in their own ways, and you didn’t want to add to it or open up any healing wounds.  So, you settled on being vague.  “Just...everything.”

   He seemed to know what you meant anyway.  The silence that followed made guilt gnaw in your chest, but before you could say anything, Bucky spoke.

   “Hey,” he nudged you with his shoulder, making you meet his gaze again.  His eyes had softened significantly and forehead smoothed in absence of the lines caused by furrowed brows.  It was a nice change from the scowl he had since the mission started.  “Sorry we dragged you into this.”

   You dismissed the apology with a casual wave of your hand.  “You guys didn’t drag me into anything.  I was along for the ride from the beginning.”

   A comfortable silence fell between you then.  He returned to gazing out the window while you stood up and headed back to your seat, sinking into it and letting your head tip forward.  You figured that a cat nap was in order since you hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before.  All that business with an internationally-known criminal breaking out of prison had you on edge.  With nothing but the sounds of occasional page-turning from Zemo’s book and Sam tapping his foot lightly to the beat of music he listened to on his phone with earbuds, sweet sleep claimed you in no time.

   You were pulled from your dreamless slumber by voices, but your body wasn’t ready to respond just yet.  The first thing you noticed was that you were leaning against something on your right side, your face resting on a soft material that held the scent of leather and cologne. Bucky’s scent.  It must’ve been his jacket balled up to serve as a pillow.  In fact, it was his voice rumbling closest to you.

   “Stop looking at her like that.”

   “Apologies, James, but I don’t know what you mean.”  Zemo’s accented voice was quieter, but there was a sprinkle of amusement in his tone.

   “You’re doing it right now.”

   “Bucky, come on,” Sam interjected.  “We managed to make it a few hours without killing the guy.  Don’t let him get to you now.”

   Zemo’s tone took on a new intensity, as if he was gripped by fascination.  “You seem very protective of __________.  The way you move around her is intriguing, as if prepared to defend her at a moment’s notice.”

   “Don’t engage,” Sam warned in a low voice.

   By now, you were almost fully awake.  Despite the potentially awkward situation that Zemo was creating with the analysis of your friend, you figured it would be best to intervene.  You shifted, blinking your eyes open.

   “What’s going on?” you muttered, voice still a little rough from sleep.  “It better be good because I haven’t slept that well in a while.”  You lifted your head from Bucky’s jacket, eyes darting up to see him staring out the window again.  “Sorry,” you muttered, brushing a bit of drool from his jacket before handing it back to him.  He stole a glance in your direction again, not seeming to mind.

   “No big deal.  You needed the sleep.”

   Bucky didn’t say another word, so you turned to Sam for answers.  He shrugged with the shake of his head.  “Zemo’s being... well, Zemo.”

   You nodded in understanding, as if that simple phrase was all the explanation you needed.  Zemo caught your gaze, the corners of his lips turning up a smile.

   “As I mentioned before, we will have to go undercover to meet with Selby in Madripoor.  I was merely thinking of disguises for you and Sam.”

   He seemed like was telling the truth, but you didn’t doubt that he relished the added bonus of getting under Bucky’s skin in the process.  While Bucky had been protective of you and those who chose to put themselves on the line to prove his innocence when it came to the UN bombing, you hadn’t expected him to be quite that defensive in this situation.  As flattering as it was in some ways, it made you worry.  Zemo knew what buttons to push.  Would he eventually push a button to make things go his way?  To forward some plan of his?

   You got up to stretch and use the refresher.  You took your time since there were still several hours left in the flight.  Zemo had informed the group that upon landing, there would be  limited window to get into costume and go over your characters before heading to Selby’s club.

   - - - - - - -  

   “Only an American would assume that a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp,” Zemo complained.  You stole a glance at your friend who gave his outfit another displeased look.  “You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing.  The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.��  He handed his phone over so Sam could get a look at his character’s picture.

   “He even has a bad nickname.  He does look like me, though.”

   “And who am I supposed to be?” you asked, pulling the jacket over your form tighter.  You wore a dark blue dress that went to your knees.  The material was soft and had a subtle glimmer in the light, and the outfit was complete with a pair of black heels that clacked on the pavement with each step, a shiny silver bracelet, and the black jacket that you were glad to have in the chilly air.  The group was walking to the halfway point of the bridge to be picked up.

   “You will be my date,” Zemo replied casually.

   You gave him an incredulous look.  “Really?  I’m just the date?”

   He released a sigh before launching into explanation.  “You don’t exactly resemble any crime bosses.  Besides, it’s not uncommon for dates to come and go in this town.  No one will be asking who you are.  No one will expect what’s coming to them if we need to fight.  You may have the greatest advantage out of all of us.”

   As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point.

   “Just remember to remain at my side at all times,” Zemo continued.  “Make it look convincing that we are together.”

   You refused to meet his amused look.  “Yeah, yeah.  Whatever.”

   A black car idled just ahead, and Zemo once more reiterated how important it was to stay in character. He told the group about High Town and Low Town, though you were a little distracted by the city lights reflecting off the water.

   You squeezed into the backseat between Bucky and Sam.  The ride was tense with only the sound of your breaths in the small space.  Bucky stared straight ahead through the windshield even as motorcycles surrounded the car and escorted it the rest of the way.  The car dropped you all off near the club, and Zemo held out his hand to help you out of the vehicle.  He put an arm around your waist at a respectful level, but Bucky took one look and halted.

   “Okay, this isn’t going to work,” Bucky snapped.  Everyone’s eyes were on him.

   Sincerity was written all over Zemo’s features as he responded.  “I assure you, it will.” Suddenly, his eyes flickered with realization, though you glanced between the two men in confusion.  “I know you don’t trust me, James, and I understand your discomfort.  However, you are playing the part of the Winter Soldier.  It is best if she remains inconspicuous as my date.”

   “Wait, that’s what this is about?” Sam asked in disbelief.  “Who ________ pretends to date?”  Your eyes fell to the pavement.  The situation was already unpleasant.  The last thing you wanted was to bring confusing feelings into the mix while in the middle of an important mission.

   Bucky began to protest.  “No, I-”

   “Relax,” Sam said, holding up his hands to show he meant no offense.  “________, you can stay by me.  Smiling Tiger can have a date, right?”  He looked to Zemo for confirmation.

   “Excellent idea.”  He nodded in approval.  “Just remember to stay in character.  All of you.”  

(Link to Part 2)

[lovelyminnieee]

Without you- J.J.H

Pairing: Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Car accident mentions, mentions of death, father!Jaehyun, Coma, mentions of losing a loved one

Summary: Jaehyun doesn't want to deal with life anymore. Without you there to hug him, or tell him it was okay to cry, he didn't want to even come home, unless it was for his daughter. He missed you, so much he could go crazy. Maybe you will never come back, he hasn't lost hope yet. Will you be able to comeback to him and your daughter's lives again?

A/n: this is my first fic on my account, feedbacks would be deeply appreciated. Uh, I am a little nervous to post it, but please do give me feedbacks. And the paragraphs written in italics are memories

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It's been 3 years. Three years without you. There wasn't one day where he didn't think of you. Your daughter and the way she reminds him of you. He's tired of it, tired of life. Without you there to comfort him, tell him it's okay to cry, he's tired.

"Eun ha, we have to get to school!" Jaehyun shouts from one end of the apartment, packing her lunch. "Coming daddy!" His daughter waddles over to him, struggling to put her shoes on. "Let me do it," Jaehyun said as he picked her up and put her on the table. He smiles as he puts her shoes on quickly, placing her down after. "Let's go, okay baby?" Jaehyun holds her little hand, her bag in his other hand.

Jaehyun opened the door to the apartment and sighed. An empty home was not really welcoming. You weren't there to hug him, tell him that you love him. His habits haven't changed, he sat down on the couch and pulled out his phone.

"I miss you so fucking much..."

He texted your number. He missed you so much, he was going crazy. He closed his eyes, trying to hold tears bay. He sent you a picture of Eun ha in her dress up outfit. Like a princess.

"Look at Eun ha, she looks so pretty. Just like you baby"

His fingers type, the memories flooding in. He took you for granted while you were there, and that is the thing he regrets the most in life. 

"I understand, but you can't just ignore me like that, Jae," you said, angry. He was ignoring you for the past few days, and you had no idea why. He said it was because of work, but he wasn't there at work during work hours. "No Jae, you're not working, you're somewhere else during work hours," you said, your eyes staring at him. Jaehyun paused for a minute, speechless. He was preparing something special for you, and that was the reason. "I- I was-" Jaehyun sighed. You were getting on his nerves. "Y/n, just leave me alone. You don't understand," he said and walked away, frustrated at your behaviour. You didn't know why you got angry so quickly, you were usually so calm and collected during arguments. "So now you want me to leave you alone?" You scoffed. Jaehyun turned around and stared at you. "Isn't that what I just said?" He stares back at you. "So it's completely okay for you to go out during work hours? And ignore me when you come home? What the fuck, Jae?" You raised your voice a little. "Can you not right now? I'm frustrated, Y/n." Jaehyun tried to keep his cool. "Jae, I've been dealing with so many things, do you think you're the only one who deals with stress?" You ask him, tears swelling in your eyes. Jaehyun closed his eyes, trying to stay collected. Maybe you had a reason to be mad this quick. "You might as well be cheating on me, or lying to me. And what not-"

"WHY ARE YOU BEING LIKE THIS Y/N?-"

"BECAUSE I WANTED TO TELL YOU I WAS PREGNANT, JAE!"

Jaehyun went silent. His heart pounded in his chest at the news. Well, that certainly wasn't a good way to release the news. She was pregnant? He thought.

"You're what?"

"You know what, nevermind," you walked away, wiping your tears. Jaehyun ran up to you and hugged you from behind. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Jaehyun whispered, kissing your neck softly. "I'm hurt, Jae." You whispered, your voice cracking. "I'm so sorry," he said, his hands softly resting over your tummy. Jaehyun's face ceased into a smile, continuing to press his lips against your neck. "I'm going to be a father," Jaehyun's eyes teared up as he twirled you around and kissed you softly. Everything felt unreal at that moment. He was going to be a dad. His heart swelled in happiness, pulling your waist closer to him.

"I'm so sorry about everything. I love you so much"

He pressed the send button, his eyes tearing up.

"Please come back to me, to Eun ha"

Tears ran down his cheeks and his world darkened again. Three years of torture. Three years without you. He doesn't know how he's going to manage. He shifted on the couch, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. "I miss you so much, Y/N." He whispered, holding his tears in. He had to visit you at the hospital soon, so he put his emotions aside for a moment and got up. He walked to his room and changed in a few minutes, grabbing his bag and walking out the door.

"Hi baby, I'm here," he whispers softly, walking closer to your bed. Your parents had been taking care of you for the past two days because he was busy, but now that he's here, he wants to tell you everything. He knows you're listening, unable to talk. "How are you, love? Is everything okay? Does it hurt?" He asks, gently caressing your hands. He misses your whiny self. Whatever he said, the room was so silent when it was supposed to be filled with your sweet voice. He sighs and closes his eyes, trying to hold in his emotions. "I miss you so much," his voice comes out as a broken whisper. "I can't do this anymore. I can't do this without you, please come back, I'm sorry," he cries, holding your hand close to him. Jaehyun remembers the day the accident happened.

"I'll meet you at home, babe. I love you," he said, cutting the call with a smile on his face. "You make me feel so single," Johnny whispers from his work desk, sighing. "Come on, John. You can bag girls if you try," Jaehyun chuckled as he put on his jacket. "Lucky, you get to go home early while I'm stuck with hyuck, great." Johnny rolls his eyes. Jaehyun just chuckles, walking out of his shared office space.

"So, how was work today?" Jaehyun asked, his eyes focused on the road. "Bad, all that man had to say was I did a bad job and screamed at me. The audacity," you scoffed on the other side of the phone. "Which man? The manager or the CEO?"

"Of course it has to be the manager. He's so annoying I swear," you sighed.

"Oh well, I'll ask him to shut the fuck up next time so he won't annoy you, okay?"

"Ew that was so cheesy, Jae," you cringed behind the phone. Before Jaehyun could even process your reply, loud crashes and screams were heard. He called for you repeatedly, only to realise that you weren't replying.

"I'm so sorry, if I hadn't distracted you, you would still be here for me." Jaehyun cries hard. He looks up at you to see tears running down the side of your face. "Sssh, don't cry," he said, wiping your tears and letting his hand rest on your face. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, his heart hurting at the sight of you. You laid in the bed, limp and pale. "Hey, you know..." He sniffled. "I met your manager on my way here today," he smiled, trying to get the mood better.

"And then, she was trying to write C, but Eun ha wrote it like it was mirrored," Jaehyun giggles softly, his hand still caressing yours. Your hands felt warm to him, and it was the best thing in the world to him. Just as he was about to let the unknown tears in his eyes fall, he felt something. He felt your hand move. His gaze snapped to your hands, which once moved. "Baby, can you do that again for me?" He says hastily, trying not to cry. And he sees a movement, yet again. "Wait for me, I'll go get the doctors, okay?" He says and hurries out of the room, holding himself together. He will come apart any second, but now was not the time.

Doctors rush in and out of the room as Jaehyun watches from the side, tears falling. He had called his mother and asked her to pick Eun ha up from school, just so that he can stay with you longer. "Mr. Jeong?" The doctor called. Jaehyun's cloudy gaze snapped to the doctor, hurrying over to the man. His first clenches in the anticipation of the news as the doctor smiles. "This is the first time I've seen something like this. Her senses are responding to the tests, after a full three years." The doctor tells him. "Is that good?" Jaehyun askes, sniffling. "Yes. Mrs. Jeong's health seems to be progressing so much more than the last three years, she has a higher chance of recovering from the coma for a week or so," Dr. Cho assures him, patting him on the shoulder before he leaves. Jaehyun stares at you for a moment before he comes closer to you. "Hey baby, you're gonna come back to me and Eun ha, aren't you?" Jaehyun asks softly, tears welling in his eyes yet again. "You will, I know it." He kissed your forehead again.

The hopeful week was crucial. Jaehyun visits you everyday of the week with Eun ha, trying his best to make you happy. He'd give his life up for you because what he and his daughter needed the most during this time was you. He had to go to work nevertheless, but you would never be left without a visitor. Mostly being his or your parents and your kid, or him and Eun ha. He was hopeful until the last day of the week rolled over, and he got a call from the doctor.

"Mr. Jeong, I need to talk to you as fast as possible."

"Is there a problem, Dr. Cho?"

He hears a sigh from the other side that sends fear through him.

"We need to talk as fast as possible. Can you make it to the hospital now?"

"Of course, give me 30 minutes, doc,"

Jaehyun cut the call, panic settling within him.

"Johnny, please take care of this document for me. I just got a call from Dr. Cho. I need to go, okay?"

"Yes sir, don't worry about it,"

Johnny said, gesturing to him to hurry on his way. Jaehyun rushed out of the building, getting into his car in no time. In fifteen minutes, he was there at the hospital. He found the same office he's been visiting for the last three years in a couple of minutes, panting as he barged in through the door.

"I was expecting you, Mr. Jeong," Dr. Cho said, sitting upright. He had a bad feeling about what he was going to hear. "I need you to sit down and take a deep breath," the doctor said, sympathy marked in his eyes. Jaehyun sat down hesitatingly, staring at the doctor.

"Would you like something to drink or...?"

"Cut the crap, Dr. Cho,"

Jaehyun snapped. The man just sighed, looking him in the eye. "Your wife, Mrs. Jeong, was pronounced brain dead over 20 minute ago. She had a stroke which caused the brain to stop working," Jaehyun's broken world came crashing down in a few seconds as soon as he heard the news.

"What?"

"Sir, you need to calm-"

"No no no, she hasn't died yet. She can't die yet. You said she was making steady progress, YOU SAID SHE MIGHT WAKE UP, WHY CHANGE YOUR WORDS NOW?!" Jaehyun asked, tears running down his cheeks.

"Jaehyun, listen. It was a stroke that prompted brain death. We can keep her on a machine which pumps oxygen onto her organs which will keep her warm, but it won't do anything,"

"Can you step out for a minute?" Jaehyun asked him, his voice soft. "Of course," the doctor said, moving on his way out.

Jaehyun takes in the news, tears pouring out of his eyes. All he asked for was you and God denied. Great, he hopes that he at least gets to see you one last time. He stepped out of the doctor's office with red eyes and nose. "Can I see her for the last time?" Jaehyun requests, to which the doctor agrees. Tears kept flowing on his way to the room, wiping then with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Go on in," the doctor says, gesturing at the door. Jaehyun holds onto the handle and hesitates before sliding the door open. He keeps his eyes locked on to the floor and when he does lift his eyes, surprise strikes him. You were up, alive and well. Jaehyun blinks before wiping his eyes and looking again. "Jae..." His name rolls off your tongue, bringing him back to earth. He didn't say anything, but he rushed to you and engulfed you in a big hug. He held you close to him, not letting go. It's not like you wanted to let go either. "Jae..." You said, letting your head rest on his shoulder, arms wrapped around him tightly. "I missed you so much," he whispered, breaking into tears again. "God, you're so warm. I missed this so much," you say softly. He missed your voice so much. Jaehyun pulls back gently and stares at your famished face, wiping your tears. "I love you so much, so much," he said, cupping your cheeks in his hands. Your tears ran down again, you missed him so much.

"So what was that?" Jaehyun questions the doctor, glaring at him. "Well uh, your wife had a special request," the doctor smiles, looking away after. "Cho Si-hyeon, I will smack you," he glares, shooting lasers through his eyes. "Hey! Yell at her, not me!" Si-hyeon, his fellow classmate who was a year older than him exclaimed, pointing at you. "No," Jaehyun said, kissing you all over your face as you giggled softly. "She needs to get physiotherapy for her legs and you can go home after," Si-hyeon says, watching them both enjoy each other's presence. "Mhm, 'kay. What else?" Jaehyun said, his gaze fixed on you. "This is disgusting. Bye, I can't stand it," Si-hyeon scrunched his face, leaving the room. "Tsk, he's just jealous that I have such a pretty wife," Jaehyun says and places a small kiss on your lips. "Oh well," you whispered, pulling him into a soft and we'll needed kiss, for both.

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Taglist: @sparklysung @trying-to-love-myself

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hi!! i recently got into johnlock and the universe has somehow directed me to your blog (which is an absolute godsend omfg). have you got any good possessive!john fics?

Hi Lovely!!!

AHHHH!! I’m so glad you enjoy my blog!!! <3 Thank you so much! <3

AHHH you know what??? I don’t get asked this all that much at all! I think mostly because it’s easier to find Possessive Sherlock fics and people then just... forget LOL

So guess what?? You’re the prompter for any fics I actually tagged or filed with Possessive John! <3 A pioneer you are! LOL I’m combining it with a few of the Obsessive fics as well, since I don’t have many new ones.

As usual, gang, feel free to add your own!! <3

POSSESSIVE / OBSESSIVE JOHN

See also: 

Specifically Jealous John b/c of Other People

Jealous John

Jealous John Pt. 2 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 2

Jealous John Pt 3 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 3

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 4

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 5

Hell or High water by bluefire301175 (E, 2,250 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Frottage, Alley Sex, First Person POV John, Case-ish Fic, Mutual Pining, Bed Sharing) – John wants. Sherlock wants. Plain and simple.

Display by 221b_hound (E, 2,377 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Tattoos, Public Hand Jobs, Exhibitionism, Possessive Sex, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John) – A new client has been flirting with Sherlock and, finding no joy there, with John. John seems annoyed to be second-best, Sherlock thinks, so Sherlock decides to give the departing woman (and maybe also John) a demonstration of who, exactly, John belongs to. But there's more than one level of sexual jealousy and more than one display of possession going on here, outlined in the window of 221b Baker Street. Part 2 of Lock and Key

Apodyopsis by QuinnAnderson (E, 3,347 w.,1 Ch. || PWP, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Anal, Sexual Tension) – Apodyopsis: (æpəʊdaɪˈɒpsɪs) noun. the act of mentally undressing someone. Part 2 of Undressed

Overture by Kate_Lear (M, 4,435 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Angry John, Introspection, Dev. Rel., Embarrassed / Insecure Sherlock, Morning After, Bed Sharing, Cuddles / Limpet Sherlock) – A short snippet on how John and Sherlock might have got together.

Sherlock and John Go Clubbing by wendymarlowe (E, 4,716 w., 3 Ch. || Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dancing, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Bi John, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Sherlock is Lost for Words, Sexy John, Mutual Pining, Possessive John, Floor Sex/Hand Job/Frottage) – John pinched the bridge of his nose - even for Sherlock, this was a new level of no bloody boundaries. “You want me to go with you to a gay club, wait around twiddling my thumbs while I let you get pawed by a criminal, then out-flirt him and talk you into coming home with me instead?” Part 32 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

Caves in the Mountains Are Seldom Unoccupied by starrysummernights & TheMadKatter13 (E, 7,925 w., 1 Ch. || Were-Creatures ||  Werebear John, Pseudo Bestiality, Rimming, Heavy Dub Con, Rough Sex, Come Inflation / Eating, Size Kink, PWP, Bratty Sherlock, Rutting) – “This isn’t something to play at, Sherlock,” he snapped. “If it doesn’t work out- what you’re asking of me- we can’t shrug and say 'oh well, at least we tried'. If we do this… I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand? I could lose control. I could… I could kill you.”

My Life for His by QuinnAnderson (E, 8,816 w., 1 Ch. || Guardian/Protector, Greek Mythology || Growing Up, Sex, Religious Themes, Suicide, Minor Character Death) – It began when Sherlock was eight, and he attempted to climb all the way up to the highest branch in the old willow tree in his back garden. He'd thought he was still small enough that it could support him, but the second he'd grabbed hold of it to pull himself up, the branch snapped, and down he went, plummeting a solid twenty metres. The odd thing was, he never actually hit the ground.

Of Course I Forgive You by allonsys_girl (E, 10,735 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Canon Divergence, First Time, Frottage, Wall Sex, Infidelity) – What if things had gone differently on that train car?

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John,  Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending, Obsessive John) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time, Obsessive John) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest?

[maybankiara]

TELL ME, IS IT WORTH IT?

pairing: JJ Maybank x Pope Heyward

summary: Pope proposes, JJ panics, and now he’s trying to explain why he said no (and why he shouldn’t have done it.)

w/c: 3.7k

a/n: angst with a happy ending, ignore all the typos bc this is entirely unedited (i might edit in the future)

masterlist | tag list

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It’s really unfair that when someone’s life falls apart, the world itself doesn’t. JJ thinks it should. It should be raining knives, hailing bullets, volcanoes should be exploding and the ground shaking shouldn’t be just his personal experience of reality. 

But it’s not even a moderately hot day. It’s breezy, it’s perfect, and it’s one of the nicest days of the fucking whole year. 

JJ hates it. 

The Chateau has only got John B and Kiara under its roof when he barges in, teeth gripping on the cap of a beer bottle. ‘Don’t ask,’ he states, then drops in the empty space between the two on the couch. His legs find their home on the coffee table and he nearly downs the bottle. Burps. Sighs, dramatically. 

He knows they’re exchanging glances, but he chooses to ignore it. 

Kie’s consoling hand lands on his shoulder. ‘What ha—’

‘Pope asked me to marry him,’ he says, ‘and I said no. And I also said I think it’s never going to happen.’

John B should’ve made a dumb comment. Kie should’ve made a sarcastic remark. But they didn’t, and they won’t, because JJ feels the gravity of the situation weighting down his lungs. (It feels like being torn up inside out, like his heart is chewing on itself out of anger, or sadness, or betrayal. It feels like the moment when your heart skips a beat and you think this is it, this is how I die, except you don’t; except you’re stuck in that moment forever.)

JJ burps. It chips at the silence, but it doesn’t break it. Kie’s hand on his shoulder is frozen and the distance between him and John B seems like an ocean. 

‘Yeah,’ says JJ. ‘I don’t think that was what he expected.’

A sigh comes from Kie, but he doesn’t look. ‘When was this?’

‘About twenty minutes ago. I drove straight here.’

‘Drunk?’ asks John B. 

‘Does it matter? I’m here now. Safe and sound.’ He lets out a dry chuckle before he can stop himself, and shakes his head. ‘Physically, anyway.’

‘You’re not drunk,’ says Kie. It sounds a little like a scoff, so JJ looks at her, but he can’t figure out what her face is saying. Tight lips scream anger, but her eyes are soft as ever, maybe a little concerned. She glances between him and John B with one of her eyebrows slightly raised. ‘He’s a heartbroken idiot, but not drunk.’

‘Ah. Understandable. Should I—’

‘You know what being a heartbroken idiot means.’ Kie pushes herself off the couch and when JJ glances at his other friend, John B’s just as confused as he is. ‘I know a thing or two about getting your heart broken for a dumb reason. You two sort that out, and I’ll make sure Pope’s okay. Let me know when you’ve knocked some sense into him.’

Before either of the boys manage to comprehend her words, she’s out the door. The Kie-shaped void on JJ’s left side feels a little odd, so he pushes himself into that side of the couch. The beer is bitter at the back of his throat; he wishes some music would be playing. 

John B calls his name, so JJ looks at him. He’s giving him the puppy eyes, trying to get him to talk, and it’s because neither of them really know how to start. (Their affection is physical, not verbal. Kie’s the one who’s good at that. Pope is—)

‘Did you panic?’ asks John B. 

JJ shakes his head. ‘Don’t think so. Not until after I’ve said it, anyway.’

‘So what happened?’

There’s a pause, JJ feels his brow furrow, and then: ‘I don’t know.’

‘…you don’t know?’

‘No.’

‘So you panicked.’

‘No, I didn’t, it’s—’ With a sigh, JJ accepts the momentary defeat. He glances over and sees John B’s signature stare full of indecipherable intent, but nothing less than pure kindness. They’ve had their bumps, but they always came out on top. It’s the pogue way. Even if John B wears that stupid bandanna around his neck well into his married life of his late twenties. ‘I knew the answer was no.’

It’s John B’s turn to frown. ‘You’ve thought about it?’

‘No, I just knew. Like you know the ocean is salty.’

‘You know that because you’ve tasted it before,’ counters John B. ‘I doubt you’ve been proposed to before.’

‘I could’ve been!’ 

All John B offers is a long stare yet that is enough. He’s older by only a few months, but he’s also married and didn’t say no to the proposal (granted, it was him proposing to Sarah, but still) and kind of has got his life together. He’s still JJ’s dumb older brother, but he knows something JJ doesn’t. 

‘How did you know you wanted to marry Sarah?’ 

‘Are you reconsidering your answer?’

‘No, I just—’ JJ sighs again and tries to wish another bottle into appearing in his hand. Doesn’t work. Probably for the better. He just leans his head back on the couch and stares at the ceiling, connecting the dots in his mind. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing. I just want you to tell me how you knew.’

He hears shuffling, and then feels John B’s feet in his lap. (He’s not going to comment on the boat shoes. There’s been enough deflecting. He’s got to listen, because Pope is threatening to burst into the forefront of his mind any second now.)

John B gives out the deep, heavy sigh that only comes with a slight aah whenever he’s about to tell a story. ‘When we were young, she made everything come alive. Everything looked brighter and clearer, and it was like I could finally breathe with the entirety of my lungs.’

JJ closes his eyes, trying not to gag. ‘Bro. I’m not listening to that.’

‘But that’s how I knew!’ He could just hear the grouch in his friend’s voice and now he’s threading the fine line between laughing and gagging. ‘Seriously, JJ, you asked. I don’t— I don’t know what to say. I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough.’

‘I am.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re deflecting.’

‘Big word.’

‘See?’ John B scrunches his nose, shaking his head. His thumb and index finger grip the bridge of his nose. ‘I know you’re confused. And scared. I know you panicked when Pope asked, but I don’t think you understand how horrible is the thing you’ve done.’

‘It’s not like I broke his heart,’ scoffs JJ, but the words are flat and his heart skips another beat. He doesn’t need to look at John B to knows he’s got his head in his hands. ‘C’mon, it’s Pope. He’s tougher than he looks.’

‘Yes, but he proposed, JJ. He asked to spend the rest of his life with you and you said no!’

‘I didn’t say no to that!’ JJ flings himself off the couch and now he’s pacing around the living room of the Chateau, marching circles around the coffee table. His forehead is pulsating; he’s probably having a heart attack. That’d explain a lot. ‘I said no to getting married.’

‘That’s the same thing.’

‘It isn’t.’

‘It is.’

‘It really isn’t, John B,’ he spits out. Christ, he’s getting hot. Is that his blood boiling? ‘Marriage is… It’s taxes. It’s prenups. It’s joint bank accounts, it’s added tension, it’s fucked up. Half of the marriages don’t even last.’

(Pope’s always talked about getting married. When gay marriage was legalised, before they were together, before they were out of the closet, even then he was openly delighted about it. He’s been talking about the two of them getting married for a while now, or at least hinting at it. 

He should’ve expected it. It didn’t come out of the blue. He saw the signs, just ignored them, because… because…)

‘If you’re scared marriage is going to ruin your relationship, JJ, I’ll have you know you’ve already done that yourself.’ 

This is about the point where everything just… It comes crashing down. The world does end the way JJ wanted it to. 

He feels himself growing very, very still, like when he was younger and his father raised a hand. He feels his breath halting in his throat and ears tuning out all sound, repeating John B’s words over and over until the echo became the echo of itself. He could feel the ground opening beneath him despite not moving an inch. 

When gravity drags you down to earth, your rose-tinted glasses shatter like porcelain. 

He sees Pope’s face of shock, then laughter, then embarrassment and betrayal at once, once he’s realised JJ isn’t joking. He sees him get up from his knees, hands shaking as JJ fumbles over his words, unable to find an explanation or an excuse. He feels cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, blood turning to ice in his hands. He sees his mum leaving, his dad’s hand raised; he sees people arguing and JJ wants to cover his ears. He sees himself, alone, alone, alone. 

And he sees Pope turning his back to him. Quietly. He doesn’t even argue back. Just takes the no and i’m sorry, i can’t do this, it’s never going to happen, not like this and doesn’t say a word. Just walks away. 

It’d be easier if he screamed at JJ. At least he’d know how to deal with that. 

Pope’s heartbreak is the quiet kind, the one that doesn’t ask for attention, just the opposite. Usually JJ’s there to hold his hand, to sit by his side until Pope’s ready to talk about it, or be somewhere around, far enough so that Pope deals with things himself, but close enough so that he’s there if he’s needed. He’s never been the reason for the quiet. 

Fire replaces the ice. JJ feels like the sun itself is tearing him open. 

‘Shit,’ he says. ‘Fuck.’ Then raises his eyes until he meets John B’s, blurry and barely visible. ‘I fucked up.’

He doesn’t realise he’s shaking until his knees buckle under his weight and he stumbles to find his footing. John B shoots from the couch and pulls him into a hug, wrapping his arms around him so tight JJ couldn’t have escaped if he wanted to. He didn’t. He wanted to be held, even if by a friend. 

He doesn’t sob because the sob gets caught in his throat, too, but he lets out a cough that says all the same. ‘It would’ve been easier if you yelled at me.’

‘I know.’ John B pats his back, letting JJ rest his weight unto him. ‘Pope will understand. That’s why Kie went to talk to him. As long as you realise you’re hurting everyone by being an idiot, you can make it better.’

‘I thought—’ He stops, because his words get fumbled again, and now he’s pressing his eyes into his friend’s shoulder like he’s all he’s got. ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone again.’

‘You’re not going to, okay? Just… Marriage is not all taxes, and you gotta understand that. It’s about knowing that if they get hurt, you’ll be allowed to see them. That you can get a house together, that you can look after each other if something goes wrong. That what you have is there to stay. Think of it as a promise.’

JJ snorts, but he doesn’t let go. ‘I don’t do well with people promising things to me.’

‘Then promise it to yourself,’ counters John B. The way he puts it makes it sound it’s as easy as breathing – JJ wishes he could feel the same. ‘Promise to stay with him. Promise to be around if something bad happens, but if something good happens, too. That’s what marriage is.’

‘I already promised that,’ he says. ‘His future and mine are the same.’

‘Then what’s the problem? Marriage is just making it legal. Making it formal. When what you have is honest and true, it doesn’t change anything. It just makes things better.’

JJ pulls out, feeling confident he can stand on his own two feet. He still feels a little lightheaded, but the thought of Pope possibly thinking that spending the rest of their lives together is the last thing JJ would want… That is the last thing JJ would want. Pope hurting because of him. 

JJ can’t afford to be scared anymore; living a life half-way ready to run is not living. 

He checks his phone; it must’ve chimed at some point because there’s texts from Kie, telling him where she is with Pope. His heart skips another beat, and at this point he thinks he could have enough heartbeats for a whole new person just from the ones he missed. 

He’s not dying today. He’s not dying before he gets to live the future he’s almost ripped out of his own hands. 

When he looks up at John B, he feels the hint of a weary smile on his lips. ‘I think I’ve got a promise to make.’

—

It shouldn’t be a surprise JJ finds them at the Boneyard, yet it’s still quite odd to see the scenario he’s seen a million times – Kie sitting next to the sea with her feet dipped into water as her fingers splash at the waves just about reaching her, and Pope… Pope sitting on the half-dunked log that’s been here forever, with his feet bare but not quite touching the water. His head is hung low and JJ can see the strain in his shoulders even from halfway across the beach; the cap is sitting on his lap, unused, despite the sun high above their heads. 

The sight tugs at his heart and he falters in his step, but John B’s firm hand on his back encourages him forward. JJ gives a slight nod; he’s not giving up on the courage. 

It’s Pope who notices them first and he stiffens even more; JJ sees Kie pat his knee before turning around and waving at them, then saying something to Pope. JJ wishes the wind would carry her words to him – is it encouragement or telling Pope he’s better off without someone who panics and refuses the one thing they’ve always longed for?

‘Don’t.’ John B pats him on the back. ‘I see you doing your dumb thought thing.’

JJ opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it was that he meant to say, it’s gone forever. All he can do is try and keep his shoulders from slumping and hands from forming fists; he can’t allow himself to be angry at the world, or himself. 

The sand creaks underneath his feet. He hates it in this moment, because it makes him aware of every step he’s got to take to get to Pope, and the steps drag into eternity. 

Pope locks their eyes. JJ tries figuring him out, but he’s too far, and Pope’s too guarded. 

(Not against me, Pope. Please. Not against me.)

When they get there, JJ feels like fainting, but he sets his foot firmly on the ground. He’s not escaping. 

‘Hey,’ greets Kie, and John B returns the greeting. The feuded lovers stay silent, just taking each other in. 

(JJ always wished he could paint. The lines of Pope’s face are shaped as if they were meant to withstand centuries instead of being washed away with age. He wishes he could offer to Pope more than just… himself.

He’s talked about this with Pope before, though. Feeling inferior to his boyfriend was always going to be JJ’s Achilles’ heel, yet he didn’t think it would come to this. He made another promise, ages ago – to try to see himself the way Pope sees him. The way other people see him. 

To believe in himself the way he believes in other people, for once.)

The silence is heavy, but JJ forces himself to not see it that way. Instead, he looks over to Kie, to John B, and says: ‘Can you guys give us a second?’

There’s nods and then they’re off, with nothing between the couple aside from waves crashing into the shore. Pope’s head is hung and shoulders slumped, and he’s sitting on this log with one foot pulled up and resting on it, the other hanging in the water now. JJ’s fingers ache to reach across for his, but he tells himself it’s not the time. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘Marriage scares me. I don’t know one that worked out, aside from John B and Sarah. I was raised to be on my own. Marriage means not being alone and that scared me, until I realised that… I haven’t been alone for a while now. The pogues, you… Nobody’s going anywhere. And if marriage is just a way to promise to you that I’m not going anywhere, either, and if it means so much to you, then I say let’s do it. I got scared, but never for a second did a life without you cross my mind. It’s — That’s my nightmare, Pope. Your future and mine are the same. Where you go, I follow. That’s the way things are.’

For a long time, it was JJ trying to come to terms with loving Pope – then it was Pope coming to terms with loving JJ. They’ve always loved each other, in a way, without quite saying it. It has never been the kind of love that is shouted from the rooftops – it’s the helping hand, the whispers of i got this, or you’re not alone in this, or i wish you could see yourself the way i see you. It’s the kind of love that’s etched into the air around them, existing as a part of themselves rather than something external. They’ve grown into it, shaped their lives around it.

It’s always been the beach for them. Their first kiss when they were seventeen, their first fight, their first promise to stick together through thick and thin. Every time something happened, something that mattered, etched itself into the back of JJ’s mind like the sound of his mother’s voice, it was always accompanied by the sound of waves on the shore; by the wind howling over the bay. It was always people chatting in the distance, or some music playing from a half-working speaker. It was always them, in the midst of other people’s lives. 

Pope proposed in their flat. 

When JJ drops to his knees, he doesn’t do his dumb thought thing. He doesn’t even think about it – for once, his gut isn’t telling him to run, but stay. ‘Pope Heyward.’

‘JJ—’

‘Can you let me do this?’ asks JJ. He laughs a little, shakes his head, and tries not to think about how ridiculous this looks. ‘I know I already had a monologue, but I don’t think I got my point across.’

Pope shakes his head, too; he isn’t smiling, but his eyes aren’t as strained anymore. ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to—’

‘I want to. I want this, okay? I want you to hear it.’

He can see Pope’s Adam’s apple bob, and he can see his shoulders slump in a relaxed way. The lines around his eyes soften and his lips nearly turn upwards, just a little bit. A little twitch is enough to shoot electricity to JJ’s heart. 

‘Pope, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life saying it to you. You’re my best friend, my boyfriend, and my fiancee, if you’ll have me after the shit I pulled today. Husband, then. Father of your children, because I know it’s what you’ve always wanted, and I want it, too. Whatever you’ll be, I’ll be by your side. It’s all I want. No matter what our status is, we’re always Pope and JJ. We’re always just us. And I really haven’t thought out what I’d say next because—’

Pope’s lips crash into JJ’s, his hands grasping at JJ’s face, and world pulls itself together again. When they part their foreheads lean against one another, and he can feel Pope’s breath on his lips, and he feels his hands burning on the small of Pope’s back, and he can breathe and breathe and breathe like his lungs have never worked properly before. 

(He understands John B now. Not like he’d ever admit it to him.)

He lets out a chuckle, and then he’s kissing Pope again – a small, chaste kiss, just to feel the softness of the touch. His fingers grip the back of Pope’s flannel and he’s laughing into the kiss. 

‘You’re an idiot,’ says Pope. ‘I should break up with you.’

‘Can’t. I’m too irresistible.’

‘Shut up. You’re cheesy. That entire speech would put John B to shame.’ 

JJ shakes his head again and then his thumb is tracing the line of Pope’s jaw, eyes transfixed by his lips. He almost lost this. He almost gave up everything out of fear after promising to never doing it again. (He’s making a vow, this time. It holds more weight.) ‘You loved that speech.’

Pope rolls his eyes, in the way that tells JJ he’s right. ‘Kie told me you were freaking out at the Chateau.’

‘I was,’ admits JJ. What’s the point of holding back the truth? ‘I was freaked out of my mind. I thought I’d ruined everything.’

‘You forget how well I know you, JJ. I was hurt, but I knew you would come back. Old you would run, but Kie came and said you’re at the Chateau, and you wouldn’t have gone there if you meant to run.’

‘I couldn’t ever run from you.’

‘You better.’

JJ rolls his eyes at the teasing tone in Pope’s voice, then pulls him in for a hug. It’s not long until Pope buries his face in JJ’s shoulder, and JJ kisses the side of his head. ‘I do want to marry you, if you’ll have me.’

There’s a pause and JJ feels Pope chuckle against his neck, shivering a little. ‘What is it that you said? My future and yours are the same? That better be in your vows, John B.’

‘Shut up.’ JJ feels himself burning, neck up this time, and tries to laugh it off. ‘I get to be cheesy once.’

‘Just save it for the wedding. I’d like to hear it again.’

JJ angles his body so there’s some space between them; he doesn’t hesitate before planting another kiss on Pope’s lips, reveling in the ease of movement. This is what coming home feels like, and if this is what future has in store for him, who is he to complain?

[queenxxxsupreme]

Hi!! Could you do a rdr2 oneshot and Arthur is a chubby boi and insecure about it?? I'm a hoe for chubby Arthur 🧍‍♀️many thanks!!

A/N: Omg I haven’t been able to find enough chubby!Arthur on here but I love him!!! My masterlist is here and here is the link to go to if you want to be on any of my taglists!

Warnings: poor self image and Arthur hating on himself

***

“Thank you for giving me a hand with dinner tonight, Y/N.” 

You looked over your shoulder to Pearson, offering him a little smile. 

“I wasn’t busy and I don’t mind lending a hand.”

“I’m glad someone helps out around here.” He muttered, sending Molly a brief glare. She sat at the table across from you, touching up on her lipstick. You had been chatting with her while you cut up vegetables for Pearson. 

“Would you want her cuttin’ up vegetables for dinner?” You asked him, keeping your voice low enough so she wouldn’t hear you. “Might end up losing a finger in the stew.”

“That would be somethin’.” He chuckled. 

As Pearson moved towards his wagon to retrieve something, you picked up your conversation with Molly. She was as worried as could be about Dutch.

“Dutch is…. He’s got a lot on his shoulders right now, Molly.”

“But you see that he’s different too, don’t you?” She put her compact mirror down and looked at you. “I’m-I’m not just goin’ crazy, am I?”

“No, Molly. You aren’t.” You shook your head. “If you’d like, I can see if Arthur would be willing to talk to him.”

She was quiet, her eyes finding Dutch. He was standing at the fire not too far away with Hosea, John, Micah, and Ms. Grimshaw.

You put the chopped carrots into a bowl and wiped off the blade of your knife. As you moved on to the potatoes, you looked up to find Arthur. A few minutes ago when you had last checked on him, he was sitting at another table across from camp with Sadie. He was still there, but Sadie was gone. 

He still appeared to be tense and to have something on his mind. All day, he had been grumpy and distant. After he insisted that nothing was wrong, you were somewhat convinced that he had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

“There she is. Mi amor.” 

You turned your head to see Javier move around the table you were at. You smiled at him.

You had met Javier long before you ever joined the Van der Linde gang. You were close friends with the outlaw and had a rather flirtatious relationship with him, though it never went further than flirty comments.

“When are we going to go on that fishing trip, cariño?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You picked up a potato and began to peel it. “I reckon when you can buy me one of them fancy boats.” 

“A fancy boat? What do you need a fancy boat to go fishing for?” Javier eyed what you were doing, paying attention to your knife work. “You handle that knife well, amor. Who taught you so well?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing very well he was teasing you. He was the one who taught you how to use a knife. 

“Some fella I met a while ago.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Arthur move. You turned your head to watch him walk away, taking note of how fast he moved and how tense he appeared. You wanted to follow him and make sure he was okay, but you had to finish helping Pearson with dinner. 

***

A while later, Pearson called for everyone to come get dinner. You excused yourself from the table with Hosea, John, and Lenny to go find Arthur. The grump was upstairs in his room. He was laying on his bed with one knee bent slightly and his eyes focused on the ceiling. Upon hearing the bedroom door creak open, Arthur sat up. His broad shoulders were hunched and he didn’t meet your gaze.

“Supper’s ready, darlin’.” You held the door open for him.

“Not hungry.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Are you sure? You haven’t eaten much all day.”

“Yeah, m’sure.” 

You watched him for a few moments. Your stomach twisted up into knots at the sound of his voice, small and weak. Something was wrong. He just was being stubborn and keeping it from you. 

You looked out into the hall, listening for a few moments to see if anyone else was in the house. Luckily, everyone was outside having dinner. You stepped back into Arthur’s room and closed the door behind yourself. Your footsteps were quiet as you crossed the room to sit down on the bed next to him.

He kept his eyes on the wooden floorboards between his boots, unable to bring himself to look at you. He knew the second he looked at you, the second he gazed into those Y/E/C eyes, he’d be done for. He’d pour his heart out and bare his soul to you. It happened far too often when he felt like this. 

You placed your hand on the back of his head, fingers gently combing through the dirty blond hair at his nape. You leaned over to kiss his shoulder, not minding that you were kissing the material of his dark blue button down. 

“I know you better than you think, Arthur Morgan.” You murmured against his shoulder. “You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want to…. But I am here for you always.”

“Ain’t nothin’ you can do, pumpkin.” He whispered. 

“I’m sure there’s something I could do.” You studied his profile, admiring everything from his lashes to the curve of his chin. You reached over to place your hand on the side of his face and gently turned his head towards you.

Blue eyes met yours. You smiled. He tried to but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was forced. It didn’t belong on his lips. 

“I-I just….” He trailed off, pulling your hand from his face. He kept ahold of your hand, dropping his gaze to where he now held your hand in his lap. “You know there’s always gonna be…. There’s gonna be better for you out there, pumpkin. Someone better for you than me.”

Your heart sunk at the realization that this was what had been on his mind all day.

“Arthur Morgan, there is no one better for me than the man sittin’ right here next to me.” You squeezed his hand. 

“That ain’t true.” He murmured. “Why didn’t you and Javier ever get together?”

“Arthur.” You said his name gently. “We’ve been over this. Javier and I are just friends. Nothing more. I don’t see him that way and he surely doesn’t see me that way. I’m a flirt, you know that. All sweet talk.”

“I know. Just…. I ain’t nothin’ like Javier or Charles or even Sean or Lenny. I’m more like Bill or Pearson.”

“And what in the world makes you say that?” You furrowed your brows together. “Arthur, you’re nothing like Bill or Pearson.” 

“Startin’ to look like ‘em.” He muttered. 

“Oh, Arthur.” You placed your hand on his thigh. “No you don’t–,”

“Don’t say that, Y/N.” Arthur stood up suddenly, taking a few steps away from the bed, turning to face you. He ran his hands over his face then back through his hair. “It ain’t so subtle, Y/N. Shirts ain’t fittin’ like they used to. And my belts, they’re needin’ to be put on a different loop than they used to be. Soon I’ll have a gut like Pearson or Williamson!”

“Arthur.” You said his name calmly, but he wasn’t finished yet. 

“And you! My god, Y/N! You don’t deserve an old ugly bastard like me! You don’t deserve the kind of life I can give you! You-You deserve a house and somewhere to call home. You deserve to have a family and somewhere stable to be. You don’t deserve this life. You deserve better.” His voice lowered to a broken whisper as he looked at you with teary blue eyes. “So much better than I could ever give you.”

You couldn’t hold his gaze any longer. You looked down as tears welled in your eyes. 

He had stopped yelling his frustrations but now his tone had shifted to something more hoarse and broken. 

“I-I just…. When I look in the mirror, Y/N, I can’t find a single damn thing worth shit. And that just ain’t fair to you.” 

You brushed the tears from your cheeks, biting down on your trembling bottom lip. 

As Arthur stood there a few feet away from the bed looking at you, guilt began to form a nasty ball in the pit of his stomach while he watched you cry.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, pumpkin.” He wanted to move to your side to comfort you, but his boots were stuck to the wooden floorboards beneath him.

You shook your head softly, not yet trusting your voice. You patted the space on the bed next to you, silently telling him to return to where he had been just a few minutes earlier. 

He shuffled over to sit down next to you, allowing you to wrap one of your arms around his that was closest to you. You tucked your nose into his shoulder, inhaling his scent for a few minutes. 

“Arthur Morgan. Where to begin?”

“That’s the million dollar question.” He chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. You smiled a little, but it was hidden since you were still nose deep in his shoulder.

“I think you’re still as handsome as ever, no matter what weight you gain. And if I’m being honest with you, I don’t mind it at all. You always tell me you like to put you head on my thighs/”

“‘Cause they’re soft and comfortable. Perfect for naps.” He placed his hand on your thigh and as if to prove a point, he gave you a soft squeeze. 

“Exactly. There ain’t nothing wrong with being soft and comfortable, Arthur. And just because you’ve gained weight doesn’t mean you don’t deserve me. The two have no correlation.” You lifted your head from his shoulder and reached over to take hold of his chin. You turned his head so that he had no choice but to face you. “I love you, Arthur Morgan. You’re a good man with a heart of gold. If there’s better out there, I don’t want it. I only want you, ya hear?”

He nodded softly, leaning over to kiss your forehead.

“Hearin’ you talk so badly about yourself breaks my heart. You’re so much more than you think.” You kissed his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the stubble along his jaw.

“M’sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for it. We can fix it. It’ll just take some time and a lot of effort from you, you stubborn man.” You let his chin go and placed your hand on his knee, rubbing gently. “Do you want to go downstairs and have dinner with everyone else? Or do you want me to bring our bowls up here?”

He thought about it for a moment, his hand on the small of your back racing circles into your shirt.

“Let’s go down there. I could use some fresh air.”

You nodded, giving him a smile and a kiss on the cheek. 

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