#i just know john was happy about the two of them having the same blood type…. even when they were babies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roosterr · 8 months

Note

Hi idk if you're accepting requests but I literally just read the amnesia fic, and I was wondering if I could request where reader suddenly remembers everything, and sprints around base trying to find them, and just jumps on them crying and apologizing for forgetting them. Just some really fluffy comfort? It's okay if you don't want to write this lol

the 141 when you have amnesia – p2

note: i have received your therapy bills :)

wc: 5.2k

warnings: still a bit angsty I'm sorry I couldn't resist, fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injury and blood, happy endings for all I promise

ao3

[part one]

price

✹ john thought your initial reaction was a good sign. you seemed to be taking things well, considering the extent of your injuries, and it was only a matter of time before your memories returned.

✹ your spirits are high when you're reintroduced to the team, and though you don't remember them either you do say they feel familiar, which he takes as a good sign for your recovery.

✹ when you're finally discharged, he takes you home, to the house that the two of you bought together. he shows you the photos of the two of you that decorate the walls, fondly retelling the stories of each one to you even though you were there, and these are your pictures.

✹ if you notice the way he chokes up when you get to your wedding photos, you don't say anything.

✹ like the true gentleman he is, he insists on sleeping on the sofa and leaving you to take the bed, despite your protests about it being his home too. even though you were receptive, he would never risk making you uncomfortable by sleeping in the same bed when he was, essentially, a stranger.

✹ in all your years of marriage, he's never slept on the sofa before. the two of you rarely go to bed without each other, apart from the times you're separated by your job, and consequently he finds himself not getting much rest.

✹ you're still on leave while you're physically recovering from being in a coma, so john has to go to work without you every morning, something he also hasn't done since you got married. he wishes he could bring you with him anyway, just to have you near him, but he knows that's selfish and you still need time.

✹ the base is dull without you.

✹ again, he keeps up the appearance that he's okay, and maybe it's a little more true this time now that you're actually awake, but he still feels your absence like a weight on his shoulders.

✹ the other three are pleased amongst themselves about your recovery, gaz and soap constantly asking him how you are; and he knows they mean well, but it's still irritating because how could you be okay? you don't even remember your own husband, nothing about this is okay.

✹ he keeps his grievances to himself though. he's still their captain, he can't afford to fall apart when he still has a job to do.

✹ he's woken up one night by soft footsteps in the living room. his neck aches as his eyes snap open, every sense on high alert until he realises it's just you. a quiet grunt escapes him as he sits up, massaging his sore muscles from sleeping on the sofa.

✹ when the sound of muffled crying reaches his ears, he's immediately on his feet, his heart racing as he shuffles over to where you're standing with a hand covering your mouth.

✹ he presses a hand to your back, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. you don't look at him, your crying only increasing in volume now you're not worried about waking him.

✹ now that he's right next to you, he sees through the darkness that you're holding one of your wedding photos. it's his favourite picture, the one where he's lifting you with an arm around your waist and you're both gazing into each other's eyes with the most lovestruck expression on your faces.

✹ "i– i know i love you, so wh-why can't i just remember you?" you sputter in between sobs, and you might as well have just ripped his heart out of his chest, because he can't stop the way he breaks down at your words.

✹ john wraps both arms tightly around you, caging you to his chest and nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder while pressing his own tear-stained face into the top of your head.

✹ "it's alright, love–" his voice cracks pitifully, and he's never felt quite as hopeless as he does in this moment. "it'll be alright, you'll remember, i promise…"

✹ he's not sure who he's trying to convince, you or himself as you both sink to the floor in each other's embrace. you stay like that for hours, crying for your lost memory into the early morning.

✹ after that, he can't be bothered to pretend he's okay anymore.

✹ he starts drinking again, shamelessly in the middle of the day and grumbling at gaz and ghost when they wrestle the bottle away from him. he knows you'd disapprove, but the toll of lying to himself and everyone around him has caught up. all he wanted was his partner back, the love of his life, you.

✹ the others try to knock some sense into him, but talking to him becomes like going back and forth with a brick wall. gaz even gets kate on the phone to yell at him, but nothing seems to get through. he orders them to leave him alone, stop asking about you, and it really feels like he's lost hope.

✹ it goes on like this for a week straight, nearly a full month since you first woke up.

✹ and then one boring afternoon, there's a commotion outside his office. john hears cheers and shouts from down the corridor, but he can't bring himself to care enough to investigate.

✹ he's not in the mood to celebrate whatever it is they're cheering about anyway.

✹ john's just about to stand and yell at them to shut up, but then you're suddenly standing at his door, slamming it behind you as you rush over to his desk. his face must be the picture of surprise as he swivels in his chair to follow you as you approach, opening his legs for you to stand between them.

✹ his breath catches in his throat as you cup his face, your touch so tender it has his heart hammering against his sternum like the very first time you touched him all those years ago. he plants his hands firmly on your hips, too afraid of getting his hopes up to say a single word as he watches you get closer.

✹ your face hovers just above his, warm breath fanning over his face as you inch ever closer. he sees your eyes glistening before they flutter shut, brushing your lips against his with an anticipation that has his skin tingling.

✹ when you pull away, his eyes stay closed, but he can hear the smile in your voice when you whisper,

✹ "i remember you now."

✹ his heart might’ve actually stopped at your words, surprise shooting through him like a bolt of lightning as his eyes snap open.

✹ in a second, he's lifting you by the waist and dropping you onto his desk, uncaring for the various papers that he brushes out of the way to make room for you.

✹ he can't stop the overjoyed laugh that rumbles in his chest now he's the one standing between your legs, gripping your face and pushing his lips back against your with all the passion he's been bottling up during your recovery.

✹ you smile into the kiss too, wrapping your arms securely around his neck, running your fingers up his neck and through his hair. it feels like a weight has lifted, something heavy in the back of his mind finally dissipating and allowing him to relax into your hold.

✹ the two of you break away after a moment, keeping him close to you as you press your forehead to his. "i'm sorry that i ever forgot you."

✹ "i can think of a way you can make it up to me, love…"

gaz

✹ you're so apologetic about your amnesia, it breaks his heart all over again. what's worse is that he has no idea what to do; he doesn't want to try and force you to remember, that would just stress you out more, but he wants you to remember him so desperately he feels it ache in his bones.

✹ in the end, he decides to just let things play out. he wants you to recover at your own pace, and not just because of him and how he feels about you.

✹ he also doesn't say a word about your relationship, but with how he initially reacted, he's sure you got the idea. you don't mention it either, which admittedly hurts a little, but he's sure the confusion of waking up to having a boyfriend who's name you don't even know is worse than how he feels about it.

✹ kyle vows to take care of you the moment you're discharged. he takes you to your room, shows you where everything is, makes sure you know where he is should you ever need anything, and he even introduces you to the others again.

✹ you still remember your job and how to do it so, once you're physically well enough, you get right back to it. they carry on as normal, the rest of the taskforce – assimilating you back into their nights of drinking and fucking around as if you'd never left.

✹ kyle still doesn't feel right about it.

✹ he doesn't want to treat you like glass, because you're exactly the same as when he first met you. you're still quick-witted, stubborn, and one of the toughest people he knows, you just… don't know him.

✹ it kills him on the inside, but he stays strong for you; the last thing he wants is to become the mess of a man he was when you were out, he doesn't want you to see him like that. he sorely misses spending his nights with you, and talking endlessly about your days to each other. he sends you longing glances every time you look away, wondering if you'd ever feel the same again.

✹ if you can go back to living normally, why can't he?

✹ but as the weeks go by, kyle notices how you start to withdraw, the loneliness that blocks out the light in your eyes that he loves so much. you fade into the background of conversations, sticking to listening rather than engaging.

✹ you watch them from afar, and he still knows you well enough to know what's going through your head. feeling somehow like you belong and also like an outsider at the same time, wishing you could understand the inside jokes you were a part of.

✹ he wishes more than anything that there was something he could do – make you understand that you're wanted, and you're a valuable part of the team even without your memories, but any time he brings it up you simply brush him off with that far away look in your eyes.

✹ three weeks go by before anything changes.

✹ it's the first time in a while they finally have an afternoon off, so of course they decide to spend it playing football on one of the fields within the bounds of the base. soap and ghost on one team, gaz and the captain on the other, with you spectating and keeping score on the sidelines.

✹ kyle offered to sit out if you wanted to play, but you'd brushed him off with the excuse of wanting to rest and read your book, laying out your jacket on the grass to sit on.

✹ he could tell you weren't all there, but he didn't know how to help you; so he just reassured you that you could call him over if you needed anything, and left you to guard his own jacket and water bottle before running off to join the game.

✹ the whole time he was sprinting around the field, he couldn't stop looking over to you over by the sidelines. he wasn't with it, he hadn't been since you woke up, really, and the others could tell.

✹ price abruptly calls half-time, clapping gaz on the shoulder and giving him a knowing look. "just talk to 'em, before it eats you alive." he chides, pushing him in your direction before he can think to protest.

✹ with a deep sigh and a glace backwards to the others, who shoo him away without a word, he jogs over to where you're sitting. the way the late afternoon sun hits you just right stops kyle dead in his tracks when he catches how it glows in your eyes. he feels a pull in his chest as he approaches you.

✹ you look up from your book as his shadow reaches you, shooting him a tiny smile as he drops himself next to you. he takes a swig from his water bottle as he catches his breath, extremely conscious of the way your teammates are pretending not to watch him while he comes up with the words.

✹ "so, who's winning then?" you ask, turning so you're facing him. he sees how your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.

✹ "aren't you supposed to be keepin' score?" kyle chuckles, shifting slightly closer to you as you look away with a bashful expression. he allows your hands to brush, wanting nothing more than to lock your fingers together.

✹ "i'm not really paying attention."

✹ there's a beat of silence and that helpless feeling is back as he watches you look back out to the field, where the others are still kicking the ball back and forth.

✹ "how you doin'?" he asks, keeping his voice low as he leans in even closer to you. your mouth opens to respond, that slightly off smile back on your face, but before you can he places his hand fully over yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. "actually."

✹ you sigh, heavy and tired, and bring your gaze back over to his. "it's… hard." you begin, your eyes betraying the internal struggle. "and i'm… i know, before, we were–"

✹ he blinks and you're being sent over backwards by a football flying into your face with a smack that makes kyle's ears ring.

✹ immediately he's crouching over you, helping you sit back up and pressing the sleeve of his jacket to your nose, uncaring for the blood that stains it.

✹ "you alright?" he murmurs, gently holding your face as he inspects your nose. you nod, wincing at the movement, and take the sleeve of his jacket from him.

✹ once he's sure you're okay, his vision turns red with anger. it's pretty obvious who kicked the ball when he whips around to see soap kneeling on the ground with his head in his hands.

✹ "oi!" kyle shouts, sending him a deadly glare as he gets up. "soap, what the fuck!"

✹ the man in question looks up from his hands, an incredibly guilty look on his face. "i'm sorry pal! i dinnae ken what happened!"

✹ "just piss off, you prick!"

✹ kyle looks back to you, crouching down again with a concerned frown; but you're already looking at him, the silhouette of his own form reflected in your wide eyes. your nose is still dripping blood, but you drop his jacket and your hands to your lap anyway, mouth agape as you stare back at him.

✹ "what's wrong? are you–"

✹ you cut him off by tackling him to the ground with your arms around his neck, squeezing a surprised 'oof' from him as you land on top of his chest. one of his hands flies to your waist to steady you, the other carefully cradling your head.

✹ "i remember!" you cry, an elated laugh bubbling up as fresh tears wet your cheeks.

✹ kyle lets out a relieved laugh of his own, craning his neck to plant his lips firmly on yours with an infectious grin. in the background the others groan at the display of affection, but neither of you pay them any mind.

✹ eventually the two of you pull away, a wide smile still plastered on both of your faces as you get up from the grass. he pulls you in with the hand that still hasn't moved from your waist and leans to whisper in your ear,

✹ "fancy kickin' soap's arse?"

✹ "you read my mind."

soap

✹ johnny's enthusiastic with your recovery. anyone could've guessed that from the moment you woke up he'd be doting, eager to help you in any way you could need.

✹ yes, you didn't remember him, but be was just so ecstatic that you were okay – apart from the amnesia – that he couldn't find it in himself to be disappointed about it. you'd get your memories back soon enough, and then everything would go right back to the way it was.

✹ sometimes he gets a little carried away, forgets that while you are technically in a relationship, he's not much more than a stranger to you right now. more than once you end up having to ask him for some space because he's so incredibly touchy, and you're not sure how to handle it.

✹ you also request a temporary room to sleep in while you recover, separate from him. johnny's not sure how he feels about it.

✹ he feels that sinking feeling in his chest whenever you push him back with a hand on his chest, a polite smile tugging at your lips. it's disheartening, but he tries not to let it get to him. you'll remember soon, and then this will all be in the past.

✹ maybe you'll even laugh about it, how you could ever forget your wonderful boyfriend.

✹ he takes it upon himself to read up on amnesia, so he can better understand how to help you in any way you might need. once he learns that exposure to memories that you've lost can help your recovery, he eagerly convinces you to let him show you places that have meaning to you and your relationship with him.

✹ you agree, and he didn't actually need to do much convincing because you seem just as interested in the idea as him. he knocks on your door the following evening, offering you a single rose before whisking you away with a charming smile.

✹ he takes you on your first date all over again, with the same level of enthusiasm as before. he treats you to dinner at a relatively nice restaurant, telling you all about how the two of you got together in the first place, and memories you have together. he even orders you dessert, recalling with a chuckle how he accidentally guessed your favourite on your actual first date.

✹ once you both finish eating, he guides you by the hand to the canal for the second half of the date, a romantic moonlit stroll by the water. he pulls you close with an arm around your shoulders, meeting your eyes with a fond smile and a blush dusting his cheeks.

✹ "hold on…" you mutter, a pensive expression taking over your face as you stop walking. you turn to gaze at the water, seemingly working something out in your mind. "this… this is where gaz fell into the river that one time, right?"

✹ johnny's heart misses a beat, his eyes lighting up with renewed, excited hope as he grins at you. "you remember?"

✹ "a little, yeah," you smile, dropping your gaze and hands from his with a sorry scratch at the back of your neck. "the rest is still blank, though…"

✹ his smile falters, but he's quick to make sure you don't see his disappointment by pulling you into a reassuring hug. "that's still somethin'! you'll be good as new in nae time!"

✹ the next morning, he finds you and gaz in the rec room on one of the couches, talking animatedly with each other. that familiar shine is in your eyes, the sight johnny's been missing for the last few months. it makes his heart feel light, finally seeing you acting like your normal self again after so long.

✹ he approaches you both, watching you fondly as you talk and laugh with gaz, but his good mood is soured when you only briefly acknowledge his arrival when he sits down across from you, before resuming your conversation with gaz. his brow twitches downwards.

✹ gaz is one of your closest friends, and he’s glad you remembered him. he's happy that you got part of your memory back, even if it wasn't a part that included him.

✹ this was a good thing. you'd remember him soon, he was sure of it.

✹ a few more days pass until anything else notable happens. while you were in the gym together, you told him you felt a headache coming on, so he offered to walk you to the infirmary for some painkillers. the casual conversation you made on the way wouldn't have bothered him before, but he just couldn't shake the image of you and gaz being so comfortable, while he's still stuck on the outside.

✹ he doesn't say anything though. making you feel bad about it won't solve anything, and it's not like you're doing it on purpose, he knows you wouldn't do that to him. you were just excited to have a familiar face, that's all.

✹ while you're waiting for the medic on call, your head suddenly snaps to attention and you get that same pensive look on your face as that night by the river.

✹ "you got something?" johnny asks, bringing his hand up to rest on your upper back. he doesn't want to get his hopes up, but he can't help the way his heart flutters with optimism.

✹ you nod, a smile growing on your features. "i remember that time lt. dislocated my shoulder, and price basically forced him apologise to me," you laugh, thankfully facing away from johnny as his lips turn downwards, "god, he was pissed, it was honestly kinda funny."

✹ "what, uhm…" he lightly clears his throat, hoping you don't hear the dejection in his voice, "what about me?"

✹ you meet his eyes again with an apologetic shake of your head. "i'm sorry, soap…"

✹ "yer fine, it's–" he swallows thickly, waving you off with an exaggerated smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "this is good, it's progress."

✹ since then, he's given you more space. it's clear to him that his efforts aren't helping you remember him, it actually feels like it's having the opposite effect. of course, he's glad you remember your friends, but you still don't remember him – your own boyfriend.

✹ it's wrong, and he knows it is, but he's jealous.

✹ he has to watch you carry on like usual, without him. you haven't set foot in the room you used to share together since before you were comatose. he's done his best to disguise how much it hurts, but it still annoys him how no one else seems to notice how wrong it all is. the others don't need you like he does, they don't lay awake at night going over every moment, treasuring the time you called him yours, yearning with every fibre of his being to go back.

✹ it's been a month and a half since you woke up, six weeks of being so close yet so unbearably far from you. he prays to any god that will listen to bring you back to him, allow him to hold you in his arms once more, but nothing ever changes.

✹ the thread he's been hanging on by ever since you went down on that mission gone wrong is one more bad day away from snapping.

✹ he's approached by gaz one morning, while waiting for the others to begin training, who takes it upon himself to ask johnny about how you're recovering. when gaz teases him about how he was the first person you remembered, and johnny thinks he might just strangle him.

✹ "careful, soap, i might steal 'em away," gaz laughs, patting his shoulder with a camaraderie soap scoffs at.

✹ "shut the fuck up." he snarls, his face bunched in a strikingly out of character scowl. his hands twitch at his sides, nails digging painfully into his palms.

✹ gaz blinks, his eyebrows shooting up, clearly taken aback by the hostility from his friend. "alright, i was only jokin', mate."

✹ "aye, well, i'm nae laughin'."

✹ the tension is stifling. he can tell gaz wants to say something more, but he holds his tongue – too worried about upsetting soap any further.

✹ they stand in silence with each other like that for a while, gaz watching him from the corner of his eye while he keeps his gaze firmly on the grass below him.

✹ thankfully, after not too long the uneasy atmosphere is interrupted by a shout from the direction of the building, "johnny!"

✹ his head snaps to attention to see you, grinning uncontrollably and sprinting towards him at full speed.

✹ "wha–" he's caught off guard by how you leap into his arms, hooking your arms around his neck as he stumbles backwards in surprise.

✹ before he has time to question your actions, you're smashing your lips against his in a searing kiss that has johnny's head spinning. he wastes no time in reciprocating, securing one arm around your waist and bringing the other to the back of your head, using it you press you impossibly closer to him as he groans into your mouth.

✹ you reluctantly pull away, just enough to take a shaky breath, but johnny's had stays put on the back of your head. "i'm sorry i forgot, i'm sorry…" you mumble against his lips, dragging your fingers through the unkempt hair of his mohawk.

✹ he drops his head into the juncture of you neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply the scent of you that he's gone so long without. he laughs into you, slightly delirious and just so overjoyed to have you in his arms again that feels his eyes sting with tears.

✹ "i've missed you, bonnie," he chuckles wetly, pressing his lips back to yours in another desperate kiss, "i've missed you so much,"

✹ "i'll never forget you again."

ghost

✹ he avoids you like the plague.

✹ or he tries to, at least. but truth be told, after spending so much time learning to be vulnerable around you and allowing you into his guarded heart, it's difficult to go back to being a stranger to you.

✹ that, and he doesn't actually want to.

✹ but he needs to. being around you, the love of his life, knowing that you don't remember him, it's like a knife stuck between his ribs. any time he's in the same room as you he finds himself fighting the urge to grab your hand, or press his forehead against you.

✹ he knows you don't want him anymore, the last thing you deserve is a giant of a man – who you're clearly afraid of, even if you won't say it – hanging around you like a shadow.

✹ you're still kind to him, because of course you are, checking in on him and trying to talk to him any opportunity you get. it's nice, sometimes he can even pretend everything is normal when he shares a laugh with you, but then he sees the hesitance in your eyes and he's brought back to the cold reality of the situation.

✹ the weeks drag like this, every fleeting look from you another bleeding wound on his heart.

✹ he keeps it together surprisingly well, all things considered, but the breaking point comes when you find him having a smoke one night, on a bench just outside the barracks.

✹ "simon?" your voice cuts through the silence, his eyes snapping to you as you sit down next to him. he takes another long drag from his cigarette as he watches you, uncertainty in your voice as you continue, "can you tell me about… me? and us?"

✹ no matter how much he thinks he should, he can't look away from your pleading gaze.

✹ "we… you're everything to me," simon mutters, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with the heel of his boot, "i've never felt the way i do with you before, you've helped me more than you could ever know…"

✹ his vision blurs with unshed tears. the sadness on your face starts and ache in his heart, the desire to take you into his arms and just hold you making his skin bristle.

✹ "you don't have to feel the same way, but…" he pulls the balaclava from his head, setting it on the bench in the space between you, bearing his face to you like he always does, "even if you never get your memory back, i'll always love you."

✹ the way you look at him makes it so incredibly difficult not to cry. your eyes are glassy and far away, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth with an expression that screams guilt – but it's not your fault, and he'd never blame you.

✹ you open your mouth to say something, but the words never materialise. the night stays silent, and simon expects it, but it still makes his bones ache with a heaviness that he knows he can't shake.

✹ he stands, picking up his balaclava, and walks quietly past you to the barracks door. there's no fleeting look, not this time. he disappears to his room without another word.

✹ he's not sure how much later it is when he hears a knock on his door. minutes, hours, it didn't matter. it all blends together now.

✹ when he doesn't bother to answer, whoever it is lets themselves in, shutting the door gently behind themselves. he sits up with the intention of chewing them out, but when he opens his eyes they land on your form, curled in on yourself and shuffling quickly over to him.

✹ you're here, in his room, with a face that looks like you've been crying for hours, puffy and tear-stained with bloodshot eyes.

✹ he almost thinks he's dreaming, but the warmth as you wrap your arms around him and bring his face to your chest is too real, too familiar. he brings his arms up around your waist, releasing a shaky sigh into your skin as he squeezes you tighter against him.

✹ a few hot tears meet the top of his head as you whisper to him the words he's been waiting, longing to hear, rocking gently from side to side.

✹ "i remember, si."

✹ it feels like he can finally rest, like the state of being he's been living in for the last few months melts away with your touch and he feels safe again.

✹ with his grip around your waist, he hoists you onto his bed to lay back down with him, holding you tightly against his chest, your heart right beside his own racing one.

✹ you cradle his face again, pressing your lips to his face over and over, touching every inch of him with your love.

✹ "i'm sorry…" you whisper like a mantra, punctuating every kiss with an apology that makes his throat constrict with the raw emotion he feels. "i'm sorry,"

✹ "don't be…" he mirrors how you hold his face, tangling his legs with yours as he captures your mouth and pours every ounce of passion he has into the way he kisses you. "don't be, love."

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runnning-outof-time · 9 months

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Happy Birthday/Congrats on 850 followers Daisy @peakyltd !! — to say I got inspired by the prompt list you shared is an understatement haha … I chose to use two different prompts, which I’ve italicized in the story. I also decided to go with John as an ode to the first moodboard/blurb that you shared with us. Enjoy! 💕

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Blood On the Carpet

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, blood, injuries

Summary: (Y/N) gets a rather pleasant surprise on the morning of her birthday, one that she can’t quite say she’s surprised by…or maybe she is.

A knocking on the door of her home roused (Y/N) from the comfortable position she was sitting in on the couch. It was still rather early; too early for anyone to come knocking. Unless…

“Happy birthday, love.”

“John Shelby, what’s happened to you? You’re bleeding,” she disregarded her boyfriend’s festive greeting, her eyes on his nose, which was bleeding and already bruised.

“Well I was on my way here to come and see you, but then…”

“You know what…I don’t even want to know what happened,” she cut him off before he could explain his injuries further, “just come inside.”

She stepped aside as she finished speaking, allowing him to walk inside. We waited for her as she shut the door behind them, standing in the middle of her entryway like he had not a clue of what to do next.

“You really don’t want to hear what happened? I promise it’s nothing too bad,” he tried again to get her to listen to the story behind his injuries.

“No, John, I feel like I’ve heard them all at this point,” she waved him off again, “besides, your too bad and my too bad are two different too bads,” she added, spinning around to face him after she locked the door.

“But it’s actually nothing bad this time,” he persisted.

(Y/N) found it quite odd that he really wanted to tell her the story, but she just couldn’t budge from her stance. Like she’d said, she’d heard, and been through, one too many at this point, and honestly felt like she could go into the hospital and work as a nurse from all of the bandaging up she’d done in the three years that she’s known John and the Shelby brothers.

“Maybe some other time,” she decided to slightly concede, hoping that it’ll get him past his desire for story time. “Right now I need to get you bandaged up,” she then said, giving him a once over only to find that his hands were scraped up and bleeding as well.

“But I promise it’ll have you laughing,” he wasn’t giving it up so easily.

“You’re bleeding on my carpet, John,” she insisted, a bit more strictness seeping into her tone as she noticed the splotches of blood that were now covering her ornate, green carpet…one that she loved dearly.

“Shit…sorry, love,” he apologized sheepishly, finally dropping the persistence he previously held so that he could follow her into the kitchen area. He sat down on one of the dining chairs and waited for her to grab everything she needed to clean up his wounds.

(Y/N) got right to work with cleaning up his nose and making sure that the scrapes on it were only superficial. The same could be said about those on his hands, but she bandaged them just to make sure. “That should do it,” she announced, setting the remainder of the gause down on the table before she looked up at him. She had to bite her bottom lip to stop from smiling as she saw the soft grin that was present on his face.

“Always takin’ care of me, darlin’,” he mumbled, his eyes feeling heavy as he looked at her with adoration. It was still early in the morning after all, and he was about ready to go back to sleep.

“Who else would if not me?” she jokingly questioned then, allowing the smile to break onto her face as she heard him laugh.

“Was I the first person to tell you happy birthday?” he asked her after a few moments passed, his eyebrows raising in intrigue.

“You were,” she answered with a nod of her head, “I don’t think anyone else was itching to come wish me a happy birthday at…” she pause, checking the clock on the far wall, “six in the morning.”

“I was itchin’ to from the moment I woke up,” John told her, glancing down at his bandaged up hands then. “I even fell on the pavement while walkin’ over…nothin’ could’ve stopped me,” he worked in the story of how he got his injuries.

“You fell?” (Y/N) gasped, her eyes widening at his admission.

“Yeah,” he let out a breath of a chuckle, “right onto the bloody curb…got me pretty fuckin’ good if you ask me,” he added, shaking his head as heat creeped up his neck. He couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed as he told her the truth behind the brusies.

“Well if you ask me…I still think you look pretty handsome,” she told him, a smile full on her face.

“Pretty handsome?” he questioned her word choice in an incredulous manner, his ego now brusied along with his body.

“You know what I mean, John,” she rolled her eyes, laughing at his exaggerated expression. “You know…you’ve been here for a while now and you’ve yet to give me a birthday kiss,” she switched topics then, her eyebrows raising slightly as she hoped he caught onto what she was saying.

“I was slightly preoccupied before, dear,” he pointed out, chuckling at her suggestion.

“Well you’re not preoccupied now…” she trailed off, watching him intently.

“C’mere then,” he grinned at her, his words making her lean in closer to him. Her quickness made him grin as he happily closed the rest of the distance to match his lips to hers. A sweet kiss was shared before he pulled away just enough to whisper: “happy birthday, love.”

“Thank you, John,” she mumbled back, leaning in for another kiss before pulling away completely. They were both grinning like fools as they sat properly in their chairs once more. (Y/N) took that time to give him a once over. She couldn’t help but laugh as a thought came to mind.

“What?” John asked, wanting to know the reason behind it.

“I said that I’ve heard it all before when it came to your injury stories…now I’ve really heard it all,” she told him, making him roll his eyes this time before laughter left both of their lips.

What a memorable way to start off a birthday.

———

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @areyenotfondofmelobster @padfootdaredmetoo @crabat-the-queen @sebastianstangirl01 @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @papichulo120627 @brummiereader @valentinabloom @wildheartsalwaysburn @dragons-are-my-favorite @jessimay89

MASTERLIST

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tangerinesgirl · 1 year

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The Hourglass

AFAB!Reader x Marquis Vincent de Gramont

Word Count: 1k

Rating: explicit, 18+, no minors

Warnings: smut, choking, slapping, denied orgasm, derogatory language, Marquis is an asshole, Dom!Marquis, Reader uses sex as a weapon, French swears

Summary: Reader is a manager of a hotel being deconsecrated. Think that scene in John Wick 4 in the Marquis' office but the hourglass is timing you having sex as well. Not a happy ending (well, for you anyways) and quite a dark fic. A few French swear words but I'm not a French speaker so I apologize profusely if they are wrong/the context is wrong. Please do message me. My first piece on Tumblr, so be kind! I have written on AO3 before though!

♡♡♡♡♡

Four guards escort you to the office of the Marquis de Gramont. You've heard rumours about the High Table but you've never had the honour of meeting any of them until today. They certainly made an impression on your hotel, threatening you with deconsecration with no solid proof that you've done anything wrong. This is why you're here. Since your grudge is with the Marquis and the Marquis alone, you left your concierge at the hotel, being useful and evacuating all the guests.

You brush yourself down out of nervousness, you have to admit you look good, I mean you do want to make a good impression afterall.

"Come", the voice says from inside the room. The guards open the massive double doors but don't follow you inside. The Marquis already has a handful of bodyguards inside.

Your heels clatter on the concrete floors, reverberating in the massive yet empty room, giving you a sense of power and femininity, a nice ego boost. The Marquis is staring out the window, wearing a very flattering grey three-piece suit. On closer inspection there are also small flecks of glitter. They catch the late night sun every time he moves. You thought you looked good but, damn. There's an hour glass matching the one at your hotel that the High Table so generously gave you, the blood red sands threatening to run out.

"Do you believe in rules, Miss Manager?", the Marquis has a very thick Parisian accent, you wish there were subtitles for this conversation.

"I do."

"And consequences?", the Marquis dramatically pours himself a cup of tea. He stirs in two spoons of sugar and licks the spoon, making direct eye contact.

"Indeed."

"So you don't deny you've been harbouring a fugitive?" It all makes sense now, you have no idea how he knows about John Wick staying at your hotel. There's bloody eyes everywhere. You can't deny helping Wick. You also can't seem to deny how attractive the Marquis looks right now. Or are you just attracted to his power? Or is it the suit? Maybe all three?

"Marquis, as much as I believe in rules, I al believe in second chances... and making amends", you step slightly closer and pick up the spoon on his desk, licking it in the same way he did moments earlier. His guards reacted immediately when you moved, unholstering their guns to point at you in seconds. The Marquis gestures for them to lower their guns, watching you the entire time, never breaking eye contact. He looks you up and down, your back arched and displaying your chest as you put on a little show, pulling it out with a soft but satisfying pop.

"Leave us", the Marquis orders the guards. They do as they are told. You were searched on the way in so they know you were unarmed. They probably also know of your ulterior motives and what's about to transpire, probably why they moved out so quickly. The doors clatter closed.

The Marquis taps the glass on the hourglass, the clink echoing around the room. "A lot of things you can do in an hour", states the Marquis.

"Come on now, give yourself a bit more credit", you lean over his desk to straighten his tie. He grabs your hand just before you do, "Don't think this will save your pretty little ass".

"You think I have a pretty ass?" is your take away. He throws you down on the desk, the cup of tea clattering to the floor. "Turn around". You do as you're told. He hikes up your dress and plays with you through your underwear. You let out a small moan. He stops briefly and you look back and see him unbuckling his belt. "I said turn around", he takes off the belt and wraps it around your neck. His other hand moves your pants to one side and he sheaths himself inside you in one fast motion, winding you. He's incredibly large, almost to the point where it hurts. You let out a gasp as he slams himself into you. He forces you down on the desk, arching your back for him. He grabs both of your wrists to keep them in place behind your back, still holding on to the belt. He slowly tugs on it as he thrusts himself into you. Over. And. Over.

"Such a slut, do you always offer yourself as forgiveness when you break the rules?", he babbles.

"Only for you, Marquis."

He swears under his breath, "fuck, I like it when you say my name... Do it again". He tugs on the belt again, the loss of oxygen turning you on even more.

"Marquis"

"Louder. I want all of the High Table to know how much of a whore you are", he removes the belt from your neck, and slaps it across your ass. You inhale sharply, shocked, "Marquis!" He does it again before suddenly turning you over to thrust into you again.

He grabs the end of the table for leverage, his other hand holding you down by the chest, playing with your breasts through your clothes. He feels even deeper from this angle, "I'm close, Marquis". Your orgasm is nearing, but just before you can come, he removes himself. You look at him, confused, as he strokes himself so he can finish. He lets out small moans and the occasional "putain" as he edges closer...closer... Then, he audibly cums, on your face, and on your dress. You're pissed, first you're denied of your orgasm and now your favourite dress is ruined.

He opens his eyes and tucks himself back in, grabbing and tying his belt, "Clean yourself up, fils de pute". You glance over at the hour glass, it's just about to run out. The Marquis catches your gaze and tuts. "Did you really think this would save your pathetic hotel?" The sands run out and there's an explosion in the distance. The Marquis grabs you by the neck and presses you against the window to watch. He grabs your hair so he can whisper in your ear, "these are your consequences".

#marquis de gramont #reader #reader x marquis de gramont #bill skargard #john wick #john wick 4 #vincent de gramont #john wick chapter 4 #marquis vincent de gramont

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hmspogue · 1 year

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Outer Banks Season 3 Shot by Shot Trailer Rundown

I do not own any clips or screenshots, all rights to Netflix and the creators.

To say I'm still reeling would be the understatement of the century, let's get into it.

John B: "From the very beginning, it was always Kooks..."

Even though they're set on us prying this orange filter from their cold dead fingers, these first two shots are actually stunning?

"...and Pogues"

Holy hell, we know we have all the ohter Pogues reuniting with their parents after they get back home, so JJ being all alone at this house is actually so heartbreaking.

Jiara nation rise, it looks like Bracelet Touch™ takes place at the empty Maybank house I'm not well.

"Some people with everything..."

Why are season 3's always everyones haircut season in shows like what is the source of this phenomenon?

But Rafe and Barry with the key

This hiding job is on par with JJ throwing pew pillows over it in the church.

Although, kind of think this is them getting ready to try and melt the cross down (which makes me so beyond furious), because off to the side you see the lighter fluid and the muffin tins, then later there's shots of gold.

"...and some with nothing."

The DIVIDE. I actually love the dynamic of Kooks vs Pogues heating up and the two cultures that try and exist on a very small island together. Especially since this season seems to be Kiara centric, her whole identity being called into question about where she falls I NEED IT.

I cannot even begin to express how sad I am that we're probably going to get approximately 3 seconds of them hanging out on Poguelandia because look at them!!! Let them be happy!!!

"That's the way it's always been."

SDHCULAISUEHLWAG JIARA FISHING ISNT JUST A MONTAGE I REPEAT JIARA FISHING WILL NOT JUST BE A MONTAGE.

I LOVE HER SO MUCH YES BABE GO FISHING!!!

Pope and Cleo making a signal fire together. Looks like that scene from the teaser of them walking in the field was probably them trying to scout out a good spot for it.

Jarah B looking fine as hell John B I know that bandana is your father's but i cannot even begin to imagine how disgusting it is at this point I'm sorry-

IM BEING SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS!!!!

I feel like both this shot and the previous one are them being saved by the plane that lands.

(@whitetrashjj the mullet truther, your time has come).

"Until now."

This may be my favorite John B set up narration so far.

Also, like I said, them getting rescued by the plane. Kiara looks almost hesitant? Could be the same shot as above where her and JJ aren't too sure about this plane or the people on it.

MMMMMMMM VERY concerning JJ bike crash. Pope and Cleo (or maybe Kie?) in the back of the truck with a crate.

Okay this is SO intereting to me because Ward with blood all over himself (whatelse is new?), Rafe, and Sarah helping him? I can't tell what's in his hand. But the family dynamics this season are goign to be somehow even messier, I can feel it.

Kiara getting kidnapped and taken to wilderness camp, I'm so not ready for this like. It's for sure the Carrera house in the back, the two shirts say Kitty Hawk Adventure.

For a long time, we all thought this was going to be something they ended the season on, but now it seems like it'll be a plot point in the middle. Thanks to @sun-undone and her unhinged costuming documents, we know that this yellow halter top is after the Carrera anniversary party we got BTS from (with the Jiara gate fight and John B rocking Topper's shit and Mike's "see, this is what I'm talking about, JJ"). We know Kie is seen later witht he Pogues, so Blue Ridge may be a quick, one episode plot mid season.

If they've been holding Blue Ridge over her head the whole season, then John B beating the shit out of Topper at the party is sort of the last straw, I cannot een begin to imagine the fight that he and JJ will have about it????

JJ and Kiara INSIDE the Chateau and a fire being lit OUTSIDE? If someone's trying to burn the house down witht hem trapped inside there will be heLL TO PAY.

IF THE CHATEAU GETS BURNED DOWN IM COMING FOR THE PATES I STG DON'T DO THIS TO ME WHY DO I FEEL LIKE IT WOULD BE MY CHILDHOOD HOME BURNING KJDFLAIUDHFAL??????

I know that Cline talked about having to mentally take Sarah to some very dark places this season and this shot just confirms my theory that I seriously think Sarah's going to kill someone and deal with the emotional consequences of that.

I want this to be feral JJ so badly after Kiara's taken, but, sadly, he's not in the right outfit. Not the first time we've seen machete!JJ though.

We saw this shot in the teaser, but looks like they're climbing up an abandoned elevator shaft. They're in their clothes they have on get reunited with Kie. I think it's from the same abandoned hotel the Pogues (minus Kiara, probably because they're going to save her) are in front of in a different shot.

Andd here it is: the new plot of the season and confirmation they're going after fucking EL DORADO NEXT LIKE.

Important to note this is shot on a plane as well.

Oh the Twinkie, how I missed you.

oh look they remembered a mom besides Anna this season WHY MY EYES WET LIKE THESE REUNIONS ALSO WHILE JJ IS COMPLETELY ALONE. HEYWARD, ADOPT HIM YOU COWARD!

Kiara's relationship with her parents is so askjhfailsuh COMPLICATED because I think they really do love her. And she wants more than anything for them to understand her and they just keep missing each other.

"My father and me..."

This shot is very aesthetically pleasing to me. That's all I have to say about it.

YEAH OKAY AND THEN I STARTED FUCKING WEEPING BECAUSE THIS?????? I CANT BELIEVE THEY PUT BABY JOHN B IN THE TRAILER?????

If they only do baby Sarah and Baby John B I will do something so drastic-

"...the treasure was our way out."

The way he's looking at his father? Like the pride in his eyes? I know this relationship is going to sting so badly with the way the Pates have talked about John B having to reconcile the idealized version of his father in his head with the one that left him for gold.

This is a kid that hasn't been hurt by the world or his father yet and I wanna hug him.

(post will be continues apparently i can only up load 30 images at once)

#outer banks #outer banks season 3 #shot by shot trailer rundown #john b routledge #jj maybank #pope heyward #kiara carrera #sarah cameron #jiara #obx3

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theroseandthebeast · 4 months

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Yuletide 2023 Recs, Batch Two

17 recs for Castlevania: Nocturne, The Chronicles of Riddick, Crimson Peak, Critical Role / EXU Calamity, Daisy Jones & The Six, The Devil Went Down To Georgia, Dracula, Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves

The Safety of Abstaining, Courteously, Olrox/Original Male Character + Mizrak/Olrox

Love is a dangerous thing for all vampires. It makes them vulnerable. Olrox has had the misfortune of experiencing this first hand. He is not doing that again.

Strange Allies, Olrox/Mizrak + Mizrak/Richter Belmont

Mizrak can’t figure out why Richter Belmont is still alive.

Three Principles, Dame Vaako/Vaako

Society among the Necromongers is cruel and ruthless. Death is the natural order of things, and life is to be endured. This is the story of the man and woman who would become Lord and Dame Vaako. Don't forget: you keep what you kill.

Blood in the Snow, Lucille Sharpe/Thomas Sharpe

Before the house, there was the earth, and the blood.

tempter or the tempted, Asmodeus the Lord of the Nine Hells/Zerxus Ilerez

“The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?” - William Shakespeare Zerxus won't give up trying to save Asmodeus. Asmodeus won't stop trying to damn Zerxus.

You Wanna Try That Again?, Billy Dunne/Daisy Jones

There are so many lines in the sand between Daisy and Billy - boundaries they won't cross, words they won't say, urges they won't give into. Right up until they do.

The Devil Went Down to Georgia Station, Gen, The Devil & Johnny

Me, I was just about ready to play the fool myself when the Devil arrived. You see, the sector sheriff had died a little while back, and the spaceways were so infested with bandits that no law-abiding ship dared to fly. The bandits didn't come stop at Georgia Station for a drink and a fiddler either—nobody comes down here unless they've got a resupply contract, for there's only one safe route in. I was feeling my old wanderlust, what with being cooped up in one place for so long, and besides my free meals were getting smaller by the day. That's why, when the Devil came sauntering into the station's only saloon and slid into the booth across from me, bringing out her fiddle from Devil-knows-where, I listened when she made me a deal.

The Calm before the Storm, Gen, The Captain of the Demeter

The Demeter's log was not the only tale of note to be found upon the ship.

Sanguine, Gen, John Seward

John is having bad dreams. Most of all, he dreams that Quincey might not be as dead as everyone thinks he is.

Into That, Edgin Darvis/Xenk Yendar

Edgin returns the Helmet of Disjunction. Xenk rewards him.

Not Certainty, But Hope, Edgin Darvis/Xenk Yendar

In which Xenk proposes. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to need you to repeat that," Edgin said. "I have come here to ask your hand in marriage," Xenk said in that annoyingly calm voice, like dropping in on someone at their local pub and asking them to marry you was just like popping next door and asking for a cup of sugar from the neighbor, "that we might infiltrate a temple of Ilmater and discover the means by which so many happy couples have disappeared."

Deception Check, Edgin Darvis/Xenk Yendar

Ed had lied a lot. Did lie a lot. There was a lot of lying, was his point. But the trouble and the lying did not typically involve Xenk Yendar, and this was proving to be the problem. (or, Edgin Darvis attempts to lie and rolls a one.)

Legends & Lore, Edgin Darvis/Xenk Yendar

Xenk gets truth potioned and doesn't say anything interesting at all.

Ink of the Covenant, Gen, Edgin Darvis & Holga Kilgore

Holga and Edgin get drunk. Edgin gets a tattoo. Standard 8th day in Targos, really.

it's a (fake) love story, baby (just say yes), Edgin Darvis/Xenk Yendar

“Back up,” Edgin said. “Explain how that’s connected to me going with you to a wedding.”

Perception Check (Roll for Romance), Edgin Darvis/Xenk Yendar

"I bet Xenk fucks like a metronome, too. You know." Holga makes a highly suggestive, repetitive gesture. "In, out. In, out. No variation. Same exact rhythm every time. Boring." Edgin stares at her, torn between horror and fascination. "You've really thought about this, huh?" (So has he. Unfortunately.)

you'll find us in the meadowland, Edgin Darvis/Xenk Yendar

Xenk let himself in with a slow turn of his key in the lock. The obedient door let out not a solitary creak or groan. It had better not; he plied the thing with oil as often as he cleaned any of his gear. There was a little moonlight seeping in through the window - enough to see the shape of the man rifling through his things. He was standing at Xenk’s desk, tucked into the corner and lined by shelves stacked with holy texts. Not his most valuable, of course - he wouldn’t be so careless as to keep the most precious of his collection here - but any one of them would feed a hungry man for a few days, at least. And yet this man wasn’t hungry, and he was no ordinary thief. Xenk judged this not only by the strong slope of his shoulders and broad back and the fine weave of his coat but also by the fact that he had recently been awarded the highest honours the Lord of Neverwinter could bestow. No, Edgin could want for nothing; even he could not have spent his rewards so quickly. There was only one explanation. This was an affliction of the soul.

#yuletide #yuletide 2023 #castlevania #castlevania nocturne #the chronicles of riddick #crimson peak #critical role #exu calamity #exandria unlimited #daisy jones & the six #the devil went down to georgia #dracula #dungeons and dragons #honor among thieves #fic recs #fic rec

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tempting-andromeda · 6 months

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Can I please have headcannons for Sadie with fem s/o who is secretly in love with Sadie. She wants to confess her feelings but is scared of how she might react. Fem reader drops little hints here and there and eventually confesses one night at camp when everyone is asleep and they are the only ones awake. I would love to see how Sadie and fem reader deal with being secret lovers in 1899 since it wasn’t smiled upon back then and very dangerous to be lesbian/gay/bi, etc and i would love to see how they are out, open and free with the other camp members and how they are comfortably out to John Abigail Jack uncle and Charles post RDR2. And please do a little fast forward to after the events of the game when John Charles and sadie k*ll Micah and sadie is happily settled down with fem reader and their poodle dog! Just living a quiet happy wholesome life where sadie works as a bounty hunter and comes home to fem reader cooking a delicious meal sorta life. Cozy, warm vibes and a happily ever after together forever 💖💖💖💖💖 sorry if this is cheesy and cliche I just love this little idea I have in my head of Sadie happily married to her fem s/o (low key of course because it was illegal to be LGBT in the 1800s and I would love to see how Sadie and fem reader navigate their life before and after the events of the game) !! Love your blog! 🥰✨✨✨

Sadie Adler

I think it would genuinely take sadie a bit to get back into a relationship

She’s traumatized and she just lost jake and so she doesn’t even realize you were dropping hints

You two get close and there’s this lingering emotion but she purposefully ignores it

It takes until like a month or so for her to finally acknowledge it and at first she doesn’t want to be in a relationship

Super against it because she’s a mess

When you confess she somehow rejects you but returns the feelings at the same time

Takes everything at a slow pace

It’s not like internationalized homophobia or anything…homegirl had like the worst experience ever a few months back

Likes to hold your hand

It’s such a tender thing

Separating your finger and bending them slowly while you both lay on your sides facing one another while you try to sleep

A very complicated “we’re not dating but we are”

Likes standing around you just to have your company but sometimes she just looks like a body guard with her arms crossed

Kisses your finger tips

Idk I just think she wouldn’t be ready for actual kisses so she works her way up

Everyone knows you two are somewhat a thing because even if you both wanted to hide it Sadie will practically growl at anyone who stares too long

Likes to go off with you and doesn’t tell you what you’re doing

Give you a quick “come on” and doesn’t answer any questions

Thinks anything can be a surprise if she wanted to to be

She wants to go to the gunsmith to get a new rifle? She’s gonna take you and act like she has the most romantic date planned

After the events of rdr2 she’s healed a lot more

She wasn’t on her own for like…8 years so she’s definitely grown

More into physical touch

Loves coming behind you and grabbing your waist while she nuzzles into your neck and kisses it

She’s a cheeky bastard

How can she do anything wrong she’s just a girl with a gun

Tells you all about her bounties and sometimes if you get her too into it she’ll recreate some moments

Jumping up out of bed to act out slashing a guys neck and getting blood on her

She’s so dramatic and she’s giving you a lopsided grin

Picked the poodle up as an apology for getting stabbed when she hunted down Micah with John

She saw how Abigail reacted with John and she didn’t want to be in the dog house

Always insists a meal needs more seasoning no matter how much you add

It either needs more salt or pepper

She’s real hesitant about pda and to other people y’all have an elaborate story about how both of your husbands died and you’re widowers together

Just besties

She has horrible jealousy isssues

She’s not worried you’d cheat

She just possessive

Tried to invite John and Abigail over for dinner frequently but after the first time she couldn’t do it again

Had to protect her peace

And she got tired of everyone mid way and didn’t know how to tell anyone she just wanted to nap with her wife

Whenever y’all do hang out with the marstons she somehow gets kicked out of the wife circle and is forced to Interact with John

She has fun but John is just so much to deal with

She’s absolutely shit at cooking

She can cook meat but anything else?

She complains if you try to get her to cook

If you do make her cook or you can’t she just goes into town and buys something that’s easy or already made

Likes to join you in the kitchen when you cook though

She’ll stand behind you with her hands on your hips telling you to cut the potatoes bigger or smaller

Whenever it’s just you two or any of your friends she loves to call you her wife

Smiles all goofy and everything

#sadie adler #sadie rdr2 #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 sadie #I love Sadie #sometimes I do something wrong while playing so she’ll yell at me

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sivyera · 2 years

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Dragon Trust.

PAIRING: Hiccup 'Horrendous' Haddock the third x fem!reader

CHARACTERS: Hiccup 'Horrendous' Haddock the third, Luna (OC dragon), reader

CONTAINS: fluff

WARNINGS: bad grammar, mentions of trauma and blood, mentions of scar, dragon hunter

SONG: Where No One Goes - Jónsi, John Powell

A/N: Luna is your dragon (Luna is a night fury with blue eyes and scar on her left eye) I took the liberty of making a dragon OC for a better imagine. If you don't like it you can always imagine something else :) I had this idea in my mind for a long time and I thought it would be cute.

Every dragon loves Hiccup. After all he is the one who saved them all. And make people believe that they are not monsters but very intelligent and mysterious creatures.

Except one dragon. Yours. You and Hiccup were together for almost two years now and your dragon still doesn't like him. Luna don't like anyone. She hated everyone expect you, you were her one and only friend.

She trusted you more than anyone. And Hiccup with Toothless were the third wheel whenever Luna was around. She wanted you for herself only and Hiccup wasn't really happy with that.

Hiccup wanted for Luna to like him, he was your boyfriend after all and he loves you so much. So it was really weird that your dragon was the only one who didn't like him. And today was the perfect day to get closer with her.

You were sick. You got fever and Luna was by your side all day, all night. But Hiccup convinced Toothless to look after you so Luna would fly somewhere away from you.

It was hard for Toothless convince Luna to go away from you but he did it. And Luna flew away. You and Luna had one place in the woods where Hiccup first met you. There was a cliff from which you could see the sea beautifully. Especially the sunsets there were extremely beautiful.

Hiccup knew that Luna would be there for sure. Even dragons have to clear their mind sometimes. And Luna with you were through a lot. But Hiccup never really heard the full story. You past was your sore place as Luna's. Everything you ever said to him about your past was that you and Luna were ambushed by dragon hunters at young age.

You both were really young when it happened. You blamed yourself for not being strong enough to protect her. But Hiccup is a curious man and he wants to know more. And Luna is the right dragon for it.

He was following her into the woods and to A Piece of Heaven how you called the place. For a good half hour he hid behind the trees and bushes, watching Luna, she marched here and there for a while and then settled on the edge of the cliff and gazed into the distance.

He decided that now is the right moment. He slowly stepped out from his hide and carefully start walking to her. Luna heard a ruffle behind her, so she quickly turn to look where the sound come from.

And she saw Hiccup. Luna wasn't stupid she know that you and Hiccup had some kind of closest friendship. If she could talk she would say that Hiccup is your mate. And she felt how your and his body change whenever you were near to each other.

She frowned and growled at him but that was everything. She looked up and down at him and turn to the sea. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, but she was still alert. Hiccup walked slowly to her and when he was next to her, he sit down but he still left a gap between her and him.

Hiccup was awkward as usual but he was little nervous too. After all the dragon next to him didn't really liked him much. 'Look Luna I know you don't like me very much but I want to know you and I want you to like me. You don't have to do it for me, do it for Y/N.' Hiccup finally speaks.

Hiccup knew that dragons can't speak but they understand humans in some way. She knew exactly what he had told her. And what he wanted from her. She knew that you wanted the same.

She just growled in a response. She was a stubborn dragon. Very stubborn. But Hiccup didn't give up easily and spoke again. 'How did you become to that scar?' Hiccup asked again. That caught Luna's attention. She quickly turned to face Hiccup and she growled at him again. But this time she showed him her teeth.

But Hiccup was undeterred and continued. 'Y/N said dragon hunters did it and that you two were too young when it happened.' Hiccup said.

In a sound of your name Luna looked at Hiccup. But now she looked more sad than angry. Her rage turned into a sadness. Her scar was the most painful memory of her.

Luna looked down in a shame. Hiccup already knew that he win. He slowly lift his hand and move it to her. He did it the same way how he once did with Toothless. And to his surprise Luna put her nose into his head. His eyes widen, he looked like a child on Christmas. God he was so happy. Luna as well but she would never admin it. She didn't even had to.

But to their misfortune, they heard some roaring. More precisely night fury roaring. They both quickly turn their head to look where and from who the roaring were coming.

And they saw Toothless who was trying to fly so it looked funny how he was jumping. But Toothless was panicking so it wasn't funny at all. Hiccup was the first who stood up and ran to him. Luna was right after Hiccup.

'Calm down bud, what's wrong with you? Weren't you supposed to be with Y/N?' Hiccup asked. Second after Hiccup said your name Toothless looked happy but still worried.

'Did something happen to Y/N?' Hiccup asked more worried. Toothless nod at him in agreement. Hiccup's eyes widen and he didn't waste any other second and jump on Toothless so he can be at your common house faster.

Luna was already in the air flying as fast as she could to you. Hiccup, Toothless and Luna hoped you were okay.

----

You were just really hot from the fever you had and Toothless didn't like it so he panicked a little. When all three arrived they saw Valka by your bed with a wet washcloth on your forehead.

'She is okay now, I cool her down but she was really tired so she fell asleep.' Valka said to the panicking Hiccup. He calmed down and his eyes get more softer when he saw you.

You were the love of his life, he was really worried when Toothless told him something is wrong with you. Hiccup nod at his mother with a smile on his face and give her a small sign to leave him alone with you.

Valka smiled back at her son and leave. When she closed the door Hiccup was immediately by your side. 'You really scared me my love.' Hiccup said to you. But you were asleep so it made sense that you wouldn't answer him.

He looked at your soft features and smiled. He kissed your forehead softly and make himself more comfortable in the bed. He put his arms around your waist and pull you closer to him. Really carefully so he won't wake you up. And start drifting to a dreamland with you next to him.

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matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl · 1 year

Note

Hi :)

I really love your story "Late Night Visitor". Would you like to write a second part? Maybe something about how John and Reader try to find more and more opportunities to "spend time together", they are getting more passionate and brave and one time they are almost caught by Winston. Sorry for my English (this is not my 1st language). Your works are great,

Best Wishes,

Late Night Visitor (PT 2) - John Wick x Fem!Reader

Summary: As requested, I wrote a second part to my Late Night Visitor fic. And yes, I know this took me a lifetime. I wrote multiple different variations but I was never happy with the outcome and scrapped them. I'm considering a third part as well!

Contents: Oral smut (m receiving), moments of dominance, soft!John, minimal swearing and dirty talk, implied violence.

Wordcount: 1035

Read part one -> here

Enjoy!

In the back of your mind, you thought the incident with Mr. Wick would be a one-time thing. A man nearing fifty with a young woman barely in her twenties yet. Society would have a rampage. But then it happened again. John couldn't keep his hands off you, and you couldn't resist. And now you were there again in Johns’ reserved room, pressed against the wall while being touched and teased in just the right places.

“Missed you,” he whispers simply as his hand runs along the curve of your bum, giving it a squeeze as his mouth sucks hot welts onto your neck. You whine as all the blood comes to the surface. “Me too…” you whisper, a whine begging to escape your mouth as you spoke. You feel John’s husky breath against your neck as he prepares to speak. “Did you miss my cock?” you whimper at his words and force his knee deeper between your legs.

John impatiently awaits your answer. “Did you?” he repeats. “Yes,” you spit out. “Missed it so much.” You attempted to pleasure yourself while thinking of John, but it wasn't the same. You couldn't give yourself an orgasm as strong as John knew how to.

John smirks at your answer. “Why don't you show me how much you missed it?” he says, forcing you to your knees as you promptly undo his dress pants, pull down his underwear and take out his half-erect cock. You pump his length in your hand, running your thumb over the tip which rewarded you with a low groan from John. “You look so pretty on your knees,” he hums, running his bruised fingers through your hair. You take one of his hands, inspecting the bruises before giving each knuckle the gentlest of kisses. He had forgotten how it felt like to be cared for.

John rubs his thumb against your cheek, and before he could say anything else, you licked his tip, causing his hips to buck. “Baby, fuck. Gotta warn me,” he laughs. This was the real John. He may seem like he has a hard exterior, which is true from all the years of training, but inside he just wanted to love somebody, and to be loved.

You let out a soft giggle. “Sorry,” you smile. John was now fully erect in your hand and was silently begging for more. You wrap your lips around the tip, gentle suckling as John's breath gets heavier with every second. “Youre so good at this, baby. Just like that…” he whispers to you. He always loved to talk you through it. This was the third time you two were really alone together. You had your little stolen kisses in the hallways after John studied the corridors for blindspots in the security cameras, and of course that unforgettably embarrassing dinner your father just had to arrange.

Your father arranged a dinner with a couple of his well-known business partners, and that included John. As his young daughter in law school, you were also invited to socialize with people in your field of study. You felt John's eyes on you the entire night. You tell his blood pressure was rising every time one of the younger male associates gave you more than thirty seconds of attention.

After one too many awkward conversations, if one could even call them that, you excused yourself to the ladies' room. You grab a paper towel, letting some water moisten it slightly before gently patting your forehead and neck with the cool water. Your panties were soaked and you were immersed in hot flashes from how badly you needed John. He looked so good in a three-piece suit.

As you leave the restroom you are met with John standing right in front of you. He pulls you into a corner hidden from the main view of the restaurant and kisses you passionately. His hands grab needily at your waist and buttock. You couldn't help but kiss him back but are forced away once reality kicks in.

“John, John!” you quickly push him away. He lets out a sigh and a wash of disappointment splashes on his face. “I’m sorry. It's just hard to keep my hands off you,” he whispers, moving his hands to a respectful area on your upper waist. “Don’t be sorry. I just don't want you to get in trouble, that's all,” you explain, and he nods. “When can I see you again? You know, alone,” he asks as he plays with the hem of your dress. “Soon,” you say. “I’ll come by your room later tonight if it's clear.” That’s how vague the planning had to be. It was all about luck. You had to pray that your father wasn't looking for you, nor that he or Charon was on the same floor as John's room.

You return to the dinner table, and John returns shortly after. His excuse being that he went out for a smoke break, but everybody at the table couldn't help but notice my faded lipstick and the transferred pigment on John.

Back at the hotel, you were escorted back to your room by your father, which you though was strange. “Did you have a nice time at the restaurant?” he asks. You ponder. “It was nice. There was a bit of tension, I think. At least on my end,” you explain. “Like what?” your father asks. “Please, do tell.” you sigh. “Well, I feel like your business partners don’t see me as an adult. They don't take me seriously, even if they pretend to,” you say. “I guess the only associate of yours I get along with is John. Mr. Wick,” you say, quickly but ineffectively correcting yourself at the end.

“You like Johnathan. Don’t you?” You swallow thickly. “Define ‘like’,” you say. “You get along with him. He respects you and you respect him,” your father states. “But who am I to say anything about your relationship with him,” he says humbly as you reach your bedroom. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Don't stay up too late,” he hums, giving you a kiss on the forehead before leaving to attend to some business.

Did your father know about your relations with John? You used to be afraid of abandonment and death, but now this was your biggest fear.

#fanfiction #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #john wick fandom #john wick movies #john wick x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #keanu reeves smut #john wick smut #john wick imagine

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lykaonimagines · 2 years

Text

Come Home - Sherlock x Reader

Paring: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) x F!Reader

Word Count: 4,233

Description: Sherlock had sent Y/N away shortly after Mary’s death in hopes of protecting her... and preventing her from stopping him from doing what he felt he had to do to save John. Now that she’s back and has all the details, she’s not sure their relationship can survive it.

Other Things: Hurt comfort. Angsty but there’s a happy ending. Timeline-wise The Final Problem doesn’t exist, this takes place shortly after the hug in The Lying Detective. Sherlock’s close enough to his mother to talk about feelings.

Warnings: Mentions prior drug use. Overall mentions/references the events of The Lying Detective and things Sherlock did in there (drug use, near overdose, setting himself up to be killed, etc). Breakup. Some swearing.

Y/N’s fingers flex on the door as she takes a deep breath and finally pushes it open. Dragging the suitcase behind her, she carefully heads up the steps to the landing. Leaving the suitcase there, she clenches her fists tightly and turns to the open door of the flat she’s lived in for years.

Taking a few steps into the room, she freezes as she finally sees Sherlock sitting in his usual chair. His eyes meet hers hopefully, but drop to the cup of tea in his hands as she feels a scowl pass across her face.

Looking over his face, her throat tightens as each new detail hits her. Scruff. He never let his facial hair grow beyond when he’s been… so it’s definitely true then. A black eye, the blood vessels in the same eye burst.

“Have you anything to say?” She asks after a few moments of silence.

“You’ve not brought your luggage in,” he states quietly, his gaze going toward the door briefly.

“I’m not sure I’m staying,” she snaps.

“This is your home. Where would you go?”

“Is it Sherlock? Is it my home?” She asks as she crosses her arms. “Because my last memory of this place was you sending me away.”

A frown pulls at his lips, “I wasn’t kicking you out of our home, I needed to send you somewhere safe where you wouldn’t have to be involved. You still live here, and we’re still together.”

“I’m honestly not sure about either of those things anymore. You sent me away giving me no real explanation, then ignored my every attempt to contact you.”

“I was trying to protect you from-” he begins before being quickly cut off.

“From you trying to kill yourself of drug overdose? Or was it the part where you baited a serial killer to murder you? One of those things?” She blinks at the hot tears crowding her eyes. “I’ve talked to John, I know what’s happened since I’ve been gone. So don’t even try to lie.“

“I… wasn’t going to lie to you,” he says softly, getting to his feet.

“No! Don’t come near me!” She yells and backs further away from him. “You sent me away to follow the most idiotic plan you’ve ever come up with. Broke your promise to me about never touching that shit again. And I find out you were weeks at most from your body just shutting down due to it.”

“I had to-”

“No you didn’t! Maybe John just needed time? Maybe he needed more therapy. He agrees with me that he thinks the entire plan was insane. I’m glad you two have mended all that, and that he’s getting the help he needs and moving forward. But what if he hadn’t made it in time Sherlock? What if he didn’t go along with it? Then what? I was supposed to come home and find you dead of an overdose or get a call that you were killed while in the hospital?”

“There was very little chance he wouldn’t have come,” Sherlock insists trying to take a step closer as she takes another away.

“You promised me!” She shouts as the tears finally drip down her cheeks. “No more drugs and no crazy life risking crap. You promised. I told you I couldn’t do this if you continued on like that. I asked you to tell me honestly if it was something you could do before I got too deep. Now here we are, you’ve broken both of them, lied to me, sent me away and ignored me for months, and I’m far too deep to just say it’s just some differences we can’t get past and just be friends. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

“I’ve hurt you,” he says slowly.

“Excellent deduction, just figured that out did you?” She growls, turning her head away from him.

“Please try to understand,” he takes another step toward her.

“What is there to understand? You didn’t attempt to understand how I would have felt about any of this, why do I have to try to understand your view on it?”

Before he can give a response, she sticks her hand up to silence him. “I don’t even know why I came back here. Maybe I was hoping you’d try to fix this somehow. I should have just stayed where I was.”

Turning back toward the door, she steps out onto the landing and grabs her suitcase. Without turning back she shouts over her shoulder, “I’m done Sherlock. This is done.”

“I- your belongings?” Sherlock asks helplessly from the doorway.

“John already said he’d box them up and send them to me when I get a new place. Goodbye,” she tugs the suitcase down the stairs as quickly as she can, pulling it out the doorway and slamming the door behind her.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, she angrily stomps a few blocks away before sinking onto a bench defeated.

Where could she even go for now? Nearly everyone she knows in the city is connected to her through Sherlock. John has a baby, and Sherlock will surely be going over there.

Scrolling through her contacts, she pauses as she sees one in particular. Mummy Holmes as she’d put herself in there. His parents home… seems inappropriate but what choice does she have? He rarely visits them as is. He wouldn’t happen upon her there like he would at John’s. And she did always tell her she could come to her for help.

Swallowing her pride, she taps the contact and holds it to her ear, gnawing at her bottom lip as it rings.

“Y/N darling! It’s so good to hear from you!” The warm familiar voice greats her and eases the tension in her slightly.

“Hello, how are you?” She asks weakly and sniffles, quickly wiping her nose with a tissue from her pocket.

The line stays silent for a moment, “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I… No. I’m not,” she says swallowing thickly.

“What’s wrong? Do you need something?” Mrs. Holmes asks concernedly.

“Sherlock and I broke up,” she admits, the words burning on her tongue. “And I understand completely if based on that information alone the answer is no, but I… I have nowhere to go and-”

“You can come here, there will be a train at 3 and we will pick you up from the station,” she says firmly. “Or I can phone Mycroft and have him send a car to you. You can absolutely stay here dear.”

“I can take the train,” she responds softly, relief washing over her. “I don’t want to trouble your family more than I already am.”

“I assure you that you aren’t troubling us at all,” Mrs. Holmes says quickly. “Now you get a move on and get to that train. I’ll have a nice warm dinner waiting for us when we get back. We’ll see you soon!”

Hanging the phone up, Y/N stands up and grasps her suitcase and heads toward the train station with a renewed sense of determination.

The first few weeks at the Holmes’ Estate go by relatively quickly. Mrs. Holmes doing her best to make Y/N comfortable, and eventually pulling the whole story from her about the breakup.

Staying in Sherlock’s childhood room however wasn’t the easiest part of the whole ordeal. Being surrounded by all the little things that made him, well, him. Made even harder by the daily phone calls by the man himself.

Just one call a day at exactly 8PM. Each time she would watch it ring, his contact photo enlarged on the screen seeming to taunt her. A simple photo of the two of them, him behind her with his chin on her shoulder and one of his relaxed genuine smiles.

And at the end of the rings each time, he’d leave a voicemail. Sixteen voicemails sitting in the inbox staring back at her each time she unlocked her phone. She couldn’t bring herself to listen to them.

Now the seventeenth voicemail popped up on her screen shortly after the contact picture disappears, the sinking feeling in her deepening. She needed to figure out something. What she’s going to do, where she’s going to go. She couldn’t stay at his parents’ home forever.

Walking out into the family room, she freezes as Mrs. Holmes’ voice carries to her, “Sherlock, honey, slow down. What’s wrong?”

The woman in question looks up to see her, and gestures her over.

Y/N looks away for a moment, then finally gives in and walks over to take a seat next to her on the couch.

Mrs. Holmes quickly puts the call on speaker and sets it in between them.

“Mummy I don’t know what to do anymore,” Sherlock’s voice comes from the device sounding defeated and clearly upset. “She won’t answer my calls, she hasn’t responded to my texts, I’ve no clue where she’s gone and Mycroft refuses to help.”

“Dear, she may just not want to speak to you. You can’t force her to talk if she doesn’t want to.”

The line stays silent for a moment before Y/N’s eyes widen at the sound of a sniffle. “I can’t give up. I know I’ve hurt her, I know I was wrong. I know this is all my fault. But I just… can’t. I don’t know what to say or do to fix it, but I want to. I need her. I need to try.”

“You can’t always fix it when you hurt someone Sherlock, there is only so much people can handle or will deal with,” she says gently.

“I know,” he responds miserably. “I know I have probably ruined it. I don’t know how to accept that fact. Clearly I know it, but it won’t actually process as fact. Every time I think of it my brain goes frantic and tries to think of some way to stop it from being true.”

Y/N points toward the mute button on the phone quickly, making eye contact with Mrs. Holmes, “Darling give me one moment, your father just stepped in.”

Tapping the mute she looks back up at Y/N expectantly.

“Can… can you maybe invite him over here?” She asks hesitantly.

“Are you sure?” She asks asks, seemingly searching Y/N’s eyes. “Once he knows you are here, he may keep coming by trying to talk.”

Looking down at the couch, she grabs onto the fabric and takes a deep breath, “I love him… I don’t want to be apart from him. That’s one of the reasons I was so hurt. And that he seemed to not think he’d actually done anything wrong. But he sounds remorseful now… maybe…”

Mrs. Holmes reaches over and squeezes her hand tightly, “I’ll invite him, if you decide you can’t face him once he’s here you can just stay in the room until he leaves.”

Y/N nods firmly as watches as she unmutes the call, “Sherlock honey, come visit us in the morning tomorrow. It will do you some good to get out of that flat for a bit, and you know we always want to see you.”

“I… that may be a good idea,” he says slowly and shuffles on the other end of the phone.

“Why don’t you take the train at 8 and we’ll pick you up from the station?”

“Ok,” he agrees easily. “I will see you tomorrow then. Good night.”

As she ends the call, Mrs. Holmes wraps an arm tight around Y/N’s shoulders and presses a kiss to her head. “Everything is going to be alright dear.”

Fidgeting in front of the mirror, Y/N looks over her reflection for perhaps the hundredth time since she heard the car return to the house.

Was she ready for this? The question burning in her mind as she went around in circles each time she glanced at the door.

Placing her hand on the handle, she quietly twists it open and takes a step out into the hallway. His voice carries to her immediately, and she pushes herself toward the kitchen with all the determination she can manage.

Leaning against the doorway, she looks him over as he talks to his parents with his back angled toward her.

From his profile it’s obvious he still hasn’t shaved, his facial hair longer than when she last saw him. The black eye nearly gone, but his features sunken in. His hair un-styled and barely brushed hangs dully against his skin. And he appears to be wearing an old t-shirt and baggy jeans she wasn’t even aware he owned.

“Drink your tea before it goes cold,” his mother scolds as she gestures toward the cup in front of him and pushes a plate of biscuits across the table before briefly glancing up at Y/N with a reassuring smile.

“Good morning Sherlock,” Y/N says after a moment, watching as his entire frame tenses then whips around to face her, a biscuit halfway in his mouth that tumbles out to the floor.

His eyes widen and he stumbles to his feet quickly, taking a step toward her cautiously before rapidly closing the distance between them and throwing his arms around her. Her cheek presses hard into his chest as his arms tighten around her shoulders and he buries his face in her hair.

Her own arms wrap around his waist and she rubs his back soothingly. His body trembles against hers, his breathing sounding labored against her ear.

“You’re here,” his states, his voice muffled from her hair.

“I am,” she agrees, and tries to pull back to see his face. But his arms quickly tighten and pull her back in.

“I don’t want to let go of you,” he admits softly. “I thought I would never see you again.”

“That had been the initial plan.”

His breath catches in his throat and he makes a garbled sound before pulling her body completely flush to his own. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault, I know how badly I’ve ruined this.”

“Do you?” She asks as she gently runs her fingertips along his spine.

“I’ve lied to you, I’ve left you out, I sent you away, I broke my promises. I was using again, I didn’t consider what you would have felt if it went wrong. I didn’t even consider how you would feel with it working out. I just expected you to be fine with it even though I hurt you,” he says miserably, his breath warm against her head. “I’ve done everything wrong and I have no right to ask it of you, but I need you, please.”

She runs her hand slowly up his back and neck until she reaches his hair, twirling her fingers in the curls she finds there and smiles slightly at the almost purr-like sound he makes at the contact. “I need you to look at me and say it.”

His hold on her slowly loosens, letting his hands go to her shoulders as he takes a step back and her hands move down to his hips.

His eyes meet hers, the redness and irritation from the tears he tries to quickly wipe away on his shirt is obvious but she doesn’t mention it.

“I’m sorry, I have royally screwed up, I’m an idiot to have risked us without a thought,” he states as his grip on her shoulders tightens. “I could make promises again, but I know they mean little after what I’ve done. All I can say is I love you, and I need you in my life. I won’t push you away, I’m going to work on letting you in. I won’t use again, for anything. Recreational or case.”

“And?” She presses quietly.

“And I won’t be as reckless with my life. It’s not just my own anymore. We built a life together and I have no right to carelessly put it at risk.”

Lifting her hand from his hip, she reaches up to cup his cheek. Smiling at him gently as he nuzzles into her palm, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” he says firmly, pulling her in closer once again. “Please come home.”

Reaching her other hand up, she grabs ahold of the fabric just below the collar of his shirt and yanks his face down closer to her. “I’ll come home,” she whispers against his lips before pressing them together.

His lips press nearly bruisingly back, his lips moving in a quiet desperation on her own as his arms slip around her waist. As their lips part, a shuttered breath he lets out ghosts over her lips and his body slowly relaxes into her.

“Perhaps you should both come have your tea and give yourselves a chance to relax into this?” Mrs. Holmes voice makes them jump as they remember their audience of two.

“Good point,” Y/N responds sheepishly, slowly pulling back from Sherlock. “I’ll just grab myself a cup.”

Sherlock nods reluctantly, brushing against Y/N briefly as he walks back to his seat at the table.

Heading to the table herself, she steps toward her usual chair before feeling a pair of arm wrap around her midsection and swiftly tug her back into Sherlock’s lap. “I could sit in my own seat you realize right?”

“Mm, a physical possibility yes,” he mumbles and grabs a biscuit from the tray and brings it to her lips. “However, until moments ago I still thought I’d never hold you again. Therefore for my own health and well-being, you should stay where you are.”

Taking a bite of the biscuit, she shrugs gently and leans back against his chest, “If it’s a matter of medical well-being then I suppose I must.”

“Good,” he responds quietly as she looks up at his flushed cheeks. His eyes looking across the table at his mother’s warm gaze on them, his father’s arm across her shoulders with a similar smile.

“I, for one, am very glad you two are working this out. You both seem so distressed apart,” Mrs. Holmes says as she reaches across the table to pat Sherlock’s hand. “And I certainly didn’t want to lose Y/N from the family.”

Sherlock nods in agreement, looking back down at Y/N briefly, “Is this where you’ve been this entire time?”

“Yes, I really didn’t know where to go. I feel safe here, and they graciously let me stay despite the situation. I was here while deciding what exactly I was going to do.”

“You can always come here dear,” Mr. Holmes says with a gentle smile. “You are part of the family, even if our son seemingly does everything to make you want to leave it.”

“Alright fair, I deserve that,” Sherlock responds with a physical cringe. “Where had you intended on going after here?”

“I was talking with a friend out of the country, had put some thought into moving in with her. I have actually applied for jobs there already,” she says with a shrug.

“Offers you will turn down to return home I would presume?” He asks in an even tone, but his eyes betray a moment of panic.

“I said I’d come home, I’ll come home,” she reassures him and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“You’ve been in the guest room here?”

“I put her in your old room,” Mrs. Holmes says with a bit of a smug smile. “I may have hoped it would possibly… inspire a reconciliation.”

“Sneaky,” Y/N laughs and reaches for her tea. “It did have me missing him even more. There’s something so inherently Sherlock about the room. Including rolling over in the middle of the night and stretching out, only to brush against a piece of paper with soil quality test results on it.”

Sherlock stays quiet at that, his eyes gently searching her as she turns back to his parents and continues the conversation.

Twenty minutes go by with his relative silence in their conversation before his head whips toward his parents, “Would it be alright if we stayed here for the day and night?”

“Of course,” his mother responds immediately. “We can have dinner all together tonight. I’ll even invite your brother. A nice family dinner would do us all some good.”

“If you must invite him,” Sherlock rolls his eyes but gives her a tight smile before adjusting his hold on Y/N.

Sweeping her up as he gets to his feet, he carries her bridal style from the room as he announces they’re going up to take a short rest.

“And if I’m not tired?” She teases.

“You are. You were up all night thinking about how this would go,” he answers. “You were nervous.”

Pushing his old bedroom door open with his shoulder, he walks through the door to set her on the bed and turns to shut the door behind them.

He quickly sets to pulling his shoes off then gets on the bed to crawl around her to lay down and press his back flush with the wall, “Joining me?”

Laying back, she grabs the blankets and pulls them over the two of them, sliding in closer until his hand lays on her hip and guides her even closer.

Plopping her head on the pillow beside his, her eyes start roaming over him once again, “Now then, where did this outfit come from? I’ve never seen you in this.”

“Under the rest of my clothes. I… have mainly stayed in my bed clothes lately. I didn’t have the motivation for a suit today. I look rather awful don’t I?” He asks with a frown.

“You look… very worn down at the moment,” she admits reaching out to run her thumb along the dark circle under one of his eyes. “You also still haven’t shaved.”

“I haven’t used since the day in the morgue,” he says in response to her silent question.

“You’ve just decided you like facial hair?” She asks with a raised brow, hand slipping down to run along the hair on his jaw.

“Hardly,” he rolls his eyes and leans into her touch.

“What have you been doing the last seventeen days then?”

“Staying in bed. In my mind palace. Going between trying to think of any way to change your mind and trying to accept that you were done with me. John came over a few times, forced me to eat, and packed your things. They’re sitting in boxes stacked against the wall. Started unpacking one of them one night, putting your clothes back in the drawer, convinced that if I just…” he trails off into silence and his eyes shut tightly.

“Convinced that what?”

“That if I just put everything back, that I’d wake up and you’d be there. That you’d change your mind when you saw all your things still in place, realize you wanted to be at home with me. I put them all back after a day, to not cause further problems for John.”

“Well we can put it all back together this time, hopefully permanently back in place yeah?” She offers and lays her free hand on his chest.

His eyes blink open as his own hand covers hers to move it to the left side of his chest, “If you go again, please just take it with you. I clearly can not handle it well, look at me Y/N.”

“Something so darkly romantic from the one who always said sentiment was a defect on the losing side,” she teases lightly, pressing her forehead to his.

“Mhm, still is,” he states, his eyes drifting down to her lips for a moment. “I’m an absolute mess riddled with sentiment for you. I’m losing that battle, and it’s far too late to correct it. I’m in too deep, and I’ll drown without you there. And frankly, I don’t give a damn as long as you stay with me until my time comes.”

“And that time better be a long ways away, I’m agreeing to this under the condition I’m going to be waking up next to an old man Sherlock in thirty, forty years.”

A small smile spreads across his lips and he exhales deeply, “Just the fact you want that is enough for me.”

“Lift your head would you?” He says, shifting his arm under her as she does, pulling her in until she rests her head on his shoulder. “More comfortable?”

“Mmm,” she mumbles, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me too,” he admits, settling his chin on her head and cradling her with his other arm. “Get some sleep love.”

“You too,” she replies as she feels his hold on her tighten. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Will you?” He asks, clearing his throat roughly to cover up the crack in his voice.

“I will. And if you’re serious about everything you’ve said, I’ll be there every time you wake up.”

“I will hold you to that,” he says softly, turning his head to bury his face in her hair. “I will see you in a few hours then, messy hair and all.”

A giggle erupts from her throat before she can stop it, and she snuggles in closer to his chest, “Messy hair and all then.”

----

Sherlock Taglist: @stephenstrangeaddictions @strangeions @asgardianprincess1050 @rbymoon @elisa20beth @black-and-white1 @gaitwae @azu21 @mirikusashes @bubsonnobx @yuu-chan-is-still-a-student12 @catsr0pia

If you want to be tagged in any future Sherlock stuff let me know or fill out the taglist form on my channel navigation/masterlist. 💙

#Sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock bbc #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x y/n #benedict cumberbatch #fanfiction

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writerpey · 2 months

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Cg!Gale ‘Buck’ Cleven & Regressor!John ‘Bucky’ Egan Headcanons

masters of the air was so good I had to write something for this pair. happy series finale, everyone! sad it’s over but so happy with the show, it totally blew my expectations out of the water. pls enjoy & request more of them if u want! & please be careful reading this if you’re sensitive to the topics of the show. take care of yourselves, everyone <3

John keeps his regression tucked away from the others at Thorpe Abbotts as a secret little part of himself that, before Gale found out about it, he wished he could drop straight out of a B-17. He tried to deal with things the way all his comrades did. He drank, slept around, got into fights with the British soldiers at the bar and placed bets on the Yankees against the Cubs. It just wasn’t enough. It felt close to enough when Gale would wrap a hand around the back of his neck and drag him away from a stupid midnight decision, or when he’d be drunk enough for Gale to walk him to his bunk and help him tug off his boots with a familiar sigh.

Gale could tell when John was close to a breaking point, when his best friend was itching at his own skin and antsy to get in a plane and out of one at the same time. He knew something was different about John, especially when it would get late and John’s eyes would glaze over and he would refuse to leave Gale’s side. Gale had an inkling that sometimes John acted out just to get his attention. And when Meatball would run over John would gasp happily, the joy of a little boy emanating from his excitement.

Gale climbed out of bed one night after seeing John’s was empty, throwing on his jacket and stepping outside. Sitting on the ground with his back against the wall, John was sniffling, hands rubbing at his eyes and shoulders shaking.

“Bucky? What’s goin’ on?” Gale questioned gently, concerned for his friend and ready to take any step necessary to comfort John.

John was terribly embarrassed that night. Sniffled and cried and blubbered unintelligibly to Gale about a fog in his brain that wouldn’t go away until he felt like a kid again. That Gale made it worse, but better, and he was so fucked in the head for being like this and—

Gale stopped John’s negativity in an instant. “Bucky. It’s okay. I’m here for you. You know that, I know that. That’s all that matters.”

The pair fell into step with one another with the ease expected for two soulmates. It took a lot of coaxing from Gale to get John to not only tell him when he was feeling small, but to encourage him to regress more often to avoid all the bad decisions that came with John not dealing with war trauma properly.

John had come back to his bunk one night with a bleeding nose from an escapade in town, and the lecture he got from Gale was enough to make him regress instantly. He looked up at Gale with big, apologetic eyes while Gale’s steady hands wiped away the blood under his nose with a damp rag. “Sorry, Buck. Shouldn’t have been bad.”

As a caregiver, Gale is very accustomed to John’s needs and loves to dote on him, though he’s never afraid to pull rank on the other. His stern tone carries an air of disappointment to John when it’s necessary, which serves to make John regress fairly easily.

John has a lot of energy when he’s small, well-rested, and knows his group isn’t going to be called on mission for a couple of days. He’ll tear around base on his bike and steal extra eggs from Lemmons at breakfast, play fight with Gale and beg Curt, Rosie and Croz to play a game of baseball together. He’s at his happiest when he can be as carefree as he wants while everyone except Gale has no idea he feels small.

Gale has to work hard to reign in John on those kinds of days. “Bucky, no. You can’t take without asking. I don’t wanna hear that you’re hungry. You ate a dozen eggs.”

John is a super touchy person in general, and when he’s small he’ll literally hang off whatever part of Gale he can get a hand on. Throwing himself over Gale’s shoulders at mealtimes. Clutching the back of Gale’s jacket while running away from Curt. Trying to stick his finger up Gale’s nose for no apparent reason. He likes to annoy Gale, a little shit-disturber at heart.

On harder days for John, fresh off a mission, he gets far more needy. Gale’s heart always breaks in his chest when he wakes up to John making small noises of distress in the night. He often wakes him up with soft shushing and his hand stroking through John’s dark curls. “Just a dream, Bucky. I got you.” Gale whispers, even while knowing that truly, they lived out their nightmares. But the deep timbre of Gale’s voice and his steadying presence always soothes John, who often stretches his arms out to be pulled into Gale’s lap.

Gale really likes when John is especially small. He flushed red the first time he asked John if “maybe, you would let me read you a story?” Gale loves the quiet, intimate moments they get to have together, tucked up in a B-17 with The Hobbit in hand and the sun setting, whisked away to another world even just for a few moments. He feels untouchable with John’s head under his chin and the sound of Lemmons tapping away under the hull of the plane.

When it comes to nicknames, Gale isn’t the most creative person in the world. And quite frankly, if he even dared to call John something too sappy, John would explode from embarrassment. So Gale sticks to Bucky most of the time, but Johnny also made its way into his vocabulary. John’s ears go red and he grins very, very widely when Gale taps him under the chin with a gentle utterance of “Good Johnny.”

John calls Gale a plethora of names. They range from Buck to old man to a very shy Papa, only when John is super small and feeling especially brave. It makes Gale cover his face in kisses.

All in all, Gale is an attentive, kind, thoughtful caregiver who is stern when he needs go be with the little rascal that John is. And John is a fireball when regressed, but in desperate need of the care that Gale is always, always willing to give him.

#mota #mota fic #mota agere #masters of the air #gale cleven #john egan #gale x john #sfw agere #sfw agere fic #mota headcanons #age regression #little space #austin butler #callum turner

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runnning-outof-time · 2 years

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->The Shelby Brothers Masterlist<-

Main Masterlist

Last Updated: 9/26/22

Want to be tagged? Let me know!

All works are my own - I do not give consent to the reposting of them in any form.

——— (listed oldest -> newest) ———

x Reader Imagines:

— Right Place, Right Time: (platonic!reader) The Peaky Blinders have honed in on a warehouse of one of their rival gangs with the intent of stealing the score that they know is inside. Things go sideways when they discover a girl who is being held at that same warehouse.

— Please Come Home: (sister!reader) The Great War was tough on everyone. (Y/N) thought it took her brothers, who were the only people she was really living for. So you could imagine that she's really excited when she stumbles into them years later, right? Yeah, not really.

— Gifts: (sister!reader) Although she's technically one of the siblings, (Y/N) Shelby acts more like the mother of her family. So it's understandable that she wanted everything to be perfect for the upcoming holiday.

— Treading Water: (sister!reader): In which the two, less serious, Shelby brothers teach their younger siblings how to swim.

x Reader Mini Series:

-> Got Your Back Series (platonic!reader)

— PART 1 - Got Your Back: (Y/N)'s been working for the Shelby Company Ltd. as a way to help her through her journey of pursuing a writing degree at a university. She knew that the Shelby brothers would have her back, but she never knew that they meant that statement literally.

— PART 2 - Good Intentions: (Y/N)'s met someone. Someone she really likes. And he's passed the initial test of her bosses. But they're still keen to keep an eye on him. That's just what happens when you're employed with the Shelby Company Ltd.

— PART 3 - It’s Urgent: (Y/N)'s graduated from university. While out celebrating with her boyfriend, she happens to run into her bosses and can't hold back the wonderful news. Then, she tries to pull some strings and get Jack a job with the best company in Small Heath.

——————————

-> A Tough Sell Series (platonic!reader):

— PART 1 - A Tough Sell: Who’d have thought that several hardened gangsters all had the same weakness: a little girl selling cookies.

— PART 2 - Something Good: Elsie (Y/L/N) has been the Shelby Company Ltd.'s faithful cookie supplier for a few months now. On this certain day, Tommy has plans for even more people to gain happiness by eating Elsie's cookies.

Preferences/Headcanons/Blurbs:

— Leaving Kisses on His Neck (preference blurbs): How each of the Shelby brothers would react to someone letting them know that you had left a lipstick stain on their neck.

— There Was Only One Bed (preference blurbs): How Arthur, John, and Tommy would react if there was only one bed in the room that he and (Y/N) are supposed to share.

— Busted (blurb): The Shelby Brothers get put in their place after their significant others find out about their trip to London.

— The Thing About Tattoos (preference blurbs): How Arthur, John and Tommy would react if their children decided that they were going to change up their tattoos.

— A Reaction to Blood (preference blurbs): How Arthur, John and Tommy would react to their partner fainting at the sight of blood.

— A Bad Habit (preference blurbs): How Arthur, John, and Tommy would react to their partner's habit of biting her lips when something's bothering her.

— I Saw Her First (headcanons): How the Shelby brothers would react to their brother having a crush on the same woman as they do.

— Breathe (headcanons): How Arthur, Tommy and John would react to their significant other holding their breath when they're scared.

———

Divider by @firefly-graphics

#shelby brothers x reader #shelby brothers imagine #shelby brothers headcannons #shelby brothers preferences #shelby brothers blurb #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders preference #peaky blinders blurb #masterlist update

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ro-sham-no · 2 months

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sam has intrusive thoughts. he knows what they are, and he knows that they happen to him. what he doesn't know is if his... less than brotherly thoughts about dean are just of the same ilk, or if they stem from his actual desires.

maybe it's just his brain jolting through potholes of its own making; maybe. or maybe it's his own sickness, his own wanton wanting, because he was born wrong. born twisted, dirty. inundated with sin, forever trying to taint those he loves most.

cw: violent & graphic intrusive thoughts; softcore car-wash p*rn starring dean from teen!sam's perspective (a.k.a. underage sam being gay & horny)

sam winchester experiences intrusive thoughts. he knows this. they spring unbidden into his mind, always with such startling clarity,

i should stab this toothbrush through the back of my throat. maybe i'll suffocate; drown in my own blood, spit, and vomit

or,

i'll gouge out the flesh on my arms with my nails if i just accidentally scratch them. wet flesh under my nails. trails of skin and tissue being flayed everywhere. quivering muscles underneath on display

or,

we have a pair of pliers in the toolkit in the back. if i just go and get them, i can rip all my teeth out from the root

... and so on. intrusive thoughts: sometimes violent, sometimes just disturbing, but always revolting- or at least, it's supposed to be always. sam knows he should be disgusted, horrified by all of them. and he is, the thoughts often eliciting a physical reaction, like a wince or a shudder, shaking his head, hitting it, pulling his hair. anything to derail his brain for just a second to reset. all of his brain's misfired urges and impulses completely disgust him.

all of them, that is, except one, which has reoccurred unfailingly but in varying forms since about the 9th grade.

it was 1997, and dean got the impala from dad for his 18th birthday. ever the faithful caretaker, he started tuning it up on his own and washing it, even more regular than john ever had. if they were set up in a motel, that meant dean would do maintenance in some empty parking lot and then go to a car wash joint, usually alone, after work at whatever inane local job he'd gotten. but sometimes, when they would squat in rent a house, dean would use the driveway and a good ol' fashioned bucket & sponge to give baby a rubdown on his own, pulling out special polishing wax for her chrome accents and everything.

so, it was 1997, sam was two months into being 14, and it was the middle of summer. they were posing as a happy family somewhere in the American Suburb. it was sweltering, and school had long been let out, so sam was inside reading in the living room. the window-shades were fully open to let in the cozy sunlight while he shamelessly took advantage of the non-faulty air conditioning. dean was outside washing baby after changing her oil, as per usual.

the loud clunk of dean shutting off the house's hose spigot made sam look up, unconsciously observing his brother, who'd donned the one ratty pair of swimming trunks he owned and a once-white, now oil-stained tank top for the occasion. he was drenched- though whether it was sweat or hose water, sam couldn't quite tell. dean fiddled some more with the spigot just next to the window, allowing sam to gaze on unfettered. sam didn't even realize he was doing it, relaxed and unaware as his hindbrain continued to make more and more detailed observations,

like how the angle of dean's jaw was set off just-so in the sun. or the way the firm, rounded definition of his bare shoulders shifted and rippled as he messed with the hose and bucket. or the way his wet tank top clung to his chest and stomach, slipping up just enough on one side to show the pronounced curve of his obliques. or how a wedge of un-tanned skin was revealed on the opposite side of his waist as his threadbare swim trunks were tugged down from the weight of the water they were soaked in. or even, just a small eye-stray further inward, how the same heavily soaked garment sunk in and scrunched up at his hip crease, first, and then swelled back out sharply towards the middle as it clung oh-so-tellingly to dean's-

sam's eyes snapped away quickly (why did he feel guilty?) as dean picked up the bucket by the handle he had finally fixed and turned away to bring it to the car. the younger boy, still unaware of his own mind's machinations, didn't even resist as his eyes and thoughts continued to stray, once again unbeknownst to him.

he must've dropped the bucket of water on himself when the handle popped out of place. maybe he let the spigot run a little longer, too, and let it get him wet and glistening all over, because no way had a singular bucket of water gotten dean that wet. not with the way he was so clearly soaked down his entire backside, causing the back of his tank, too, to cling to his torso.

sam idly noted that dean was starting to spread soapy water over the impala which was facing towards the house, tilted up on the driveway. dean had to bend and stretch himself out over baby's front to sponge at the crease where her windshield met her hood.

see, he must've gotten himself more wet, since his swimming trunks, again, were struggling to stay up. they worked in tandem with his clinging tank top which had continued to ride up, revealing dean's back dimples. two innocuous indentations of flesh, sitting atop his waistband and pointing downward to the once again un-tanned skin sloping across the sinful curve of dean's... assets. the beginning hints of his firm curves were just barely peeking out to join his back dimples, showing the delta of skin that led down into a dark crevice, so cruelly hidden from view by the swim trunks, still unfortunately hanging on for all they were worth.

even sam's subconscious hesitated at this, beginning to wake up the boy in question to his own internal monologue, but he still wasn't fully cognizant.

he gazed on as dean squeezed out the last bit of soapy water from the sponge, turning to grab the empty bucket as well and trek back up to the water spigot to rinse them out. as he walked up to the house with his hands full, he wiped his face against the inside of his arm, possibly to scratch an itch or wipe away sweat- sam didn't have the bandwidth to decide which it was as his brain fired up once again.

dean's lips dragged against the inside of his arm, catching with friction and then releasing so elegantly. can lips be considered elegant? maybe not. maybe dean's lips were just... red, and plump, and crested, ever-so-perfectly. they looked warm, heated by the sun and the scrape of dean's teeth as he periodically bit them raw.

sam's thoughts started to organize themselves,

it should be me making dean's lips warm, instead. only i should have the right.

i should be the one biting dean's lips raw; biting them until they bleed, all for me.

it should be me clinging wetly to dean's torso, riding up on his back.

i should be the one holding onto dean's waist, letting gravity incessantly tug my hands lower and lower until i dig into his back dimples.

it should be me who drags even lower still, until i clutch my fingertips where the sun isn't privileged enough to touch- where no one should be privileged enough to touch. no one except me.

i should be the one grasping his innermost vulnerability in my hands. i'll treat it better than anyone else could.

it should be me. i should be the one.

sam's hindbrain finally catapulted into complete awareness,

it should be me, kissing dean. i should be the one kissing him, holding- loving- fu-

sam's eyes widen and he flinches away from the window as the thought fully registers, stumbling off of the couch and back towards his room that he shared with dean on shaking legs, a previously unnoticed throbbing between them taking a sudden precedence in the priority of his blood flow.

it's fine.

just another weirdly desirable, actually alluring intrusive thought.

it's fine.

#alexa play that should be me by justin bieber #sam: thAt shOulD bE mE- HOLDING YOUR HAAND #(for sorting purposes:#wincest #weecest #sam winchester #spn #intrusive thoughts #ro writing tag #)

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k-ate1288 · 1 month

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~Drogon sketch

It took me a long time to draw it. For the most part, I was waiting for a detailed description of the dragons from the book, but I found nothing except the color. Therefore, relying on the series. My style of drawing also affected me, but in the end, thanks to the spikes, it seems to be similar😬

I would like to describe a little the emotions after reading and watching "A Song of Ice and Fire" / "Game of Thrones".

I was reading and watching the series at the same time, because I wanted to compare the plot. And I liked the fact that I know a lot of moments that were not shown in the series and at the same time I did not like that some moments were not shown. Therefore, there were two attitudes towards the series, but after the book ended, but the plot of the series developed further, I completely fell in love.

I used to be skeptical about "Game of Thrones", and I didn't even think about the book, but after getting acquainted with this universe, I want to study everything thoroughly and find out. Therefore, I did not stop only at the Song of Ice and Fire cycle, but continued reading others. So far, it's "Fire and Blood." It's hard for me to read it, but my interest takes over. I am also looking forward to the rest of the books that are still being written and in development.

I want to add a little more about the last episodes of the series. My first post about mentioning game of thrones was a tournament horse in Lannister colors, where I wrote that I did not support them. At that time, yes, but when I reached the final, I was amazed by the Lannister brothers' changes and Cersei courage. I don't think that "I felt sorry for them" will fit here, for the most part I'm sad that the characters who went through such serious trials died, including Deni (and besides Tyrion, he's alive, but it's hard for me to imagine how he went through all this emotionally). At the time of reading the last part of the book, I was thinking about a happy ending for Daenerys and mercy towards Cersei, but this turn of events in the series is probably correct but sad. I saw the spoilers that Daenerys was going to die, and as soon as everything came to this, I assumed that either Aria or Tyrion would do it, but I didn't expect John to do it. It was a shock to me.

I immersed myself in this world with all my soul and now I'm a fan of it. I already have a lot of ideas for drawings. Unfortunately, I'm limited to dragons and horses, but I think I have to try to portray wolves😵‍💫

It is difficult to convey emotions in writing, but I really wanted to do it.

This acquaintance happened by chance, as I was listening to an audiobook at work. I lost the sequence of chapters in all the books except "A Song of Ice and Fire", so out of desperation I started listening to it and was surprised that I liked it so much. And from that moment on, I was rushing to work just to continue listening to the book 👉👈

#art #рисунок #рисование #драконы #dragon #dragon art #traditional art #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #drogon #house targaryen #opinion #thinking out loud #Мнение #Мысли в слух #Песнь льда и пламени #Игра престолов

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bumblingest-bee · 2 months

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bee’s thoughts on the sweeney todd revival!!

idk if recordings just didn’t do him justice or if he’s improved as his run has gone on, but i did truly enjoy aaron as sweeney. to be clear he’s still not a baritone but he didn’t struggle with the range as much as i’d feared. unfortunately but not unexpectedly he didn’t have that deep resonance that the role should have, yet at the same time he almost made up for it with the sheer intensity of his acting. (almost.) i REALLY enjoyed that he did a proper cockney accent - it was surprisingly good and fit his take on the character very well. he was genuinely frightening and impressively intense at times (his “how about a shave?” section in epiphany was a highlight for me) but at other times he was. aaron tveit. overall while still i wish they’d cast a proper baritone on the role, aaron was wonderful in his own way and im very very glad i saw him. the fact he was aaron tveit in a very tight shirt may or may not have helped.

guys. folks. sutton was FUCKING INCREDIBLE. i know, i am just as shocked as you, but she was born to play mrs. lovett. i’ve never laughed so hard at worst pies in my life. i can’t say enough good things about her which is insane bc i’ve been joking about her casting since the beginning. vocally, she knew exactly when to turn on the deranged lansbury style belt and when to sing it straight. i won’t lie her accent was much better than annaleigh’s (I’M SO SORRY). acting-wise, she was just hysterically funny; over-the-top without being over-the-top, if that makes any sense at all. just a really truly delightful take on the role.

JOE LOCKE. HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK. i came in knowing nothing about him but thinking he was stunt casting and i was SO wrong. he was, bar none, THE best toby i have ever heard. he made the role sound completely effortless with a gorgeous classical tenor that turned into a high belt so powerful it made the couple in front of me nearly leap from their seats in amazement.

jamie jackson’s deeply creepy judge and john rapson’s slimy, flamboyant beadle made the perfect dickensian villain duo. they were THE essential ingredient to the atmosphere of the show, which they just about stole.

maria bilbao was a wonderfully unnerving, constantly in anxious motion, adorably sweet johanna. she and daniel yearwood (who was lovable and vocally gorgeous as anthony) had great chemistry. ruthie ann miles was, of course, perfect as the beggar woman, heart-wrenching and unsettling and probably the best acting performance out of the whole cast.

the entire ensemble was brilliant - of course i’ve got to give a special mention to pirelli because that contest was the funniest one i’ve ever seen. also shoutout to hennessy winkler who was on as jonas fogg!

the sets were great, though at times i wished there was a bit more of them instead of being minimalist for the sake of it. the choreography was used to great, unnerving effect at times (that stumbling in the opening ballad!) though sometimes i wished they’d just stay still for god’s sake. two things that stood out to me: the blood effects were very effective, and the sound design in the bakehouse was so creepy.

for a 26-piece orchestra you’d think they’d make it a bit louder. compared to other big orchestra shows i’ve seen the instruments felt a bit tinny and canned at times, despite the fact that they really turned it up for some songs, proving that they could!! in any case i was just very very glad to hear that gorgeous full score at any volume.

overall it was a brilliant experience - though im not sure how much of that is due to just how fucking good the material is no matter what you do with it. it wasn’t perfect, but i laughed so hard i cried (and just plain cried) and got goosebumps about every five minutes. so happy i got to attend the tale ❤️🥧❤️

#bee posts nonsense #sweeney todd #theatre #long post

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loafandfish · 1 year

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After getting multiple requests for more soul crushing angst by multiple people, I have finally obliged. While writing, I was listining to Two by Sleeping At Last, and although the story isn’t based on the song, the line “I will love you without any strings attached” gets me every time so I had to make it a theme.

No Strings Attached// John

⚠️WARNING⚠️ Mentions of being attacked, blood, and violence. The people have spoken and this is what they want.

For as long as she’d known John, everything came with strings attached. She wanted to join him and James on a trip to the docks? Only if she gave him half her lunch. She wanted him to bring her extra leftovers from Salome? Only if she helped him with his chores. That pretty much meant doing them all herself while he goofed off.

And when it wasn’t favors, it was contests.

…

“Hey if you beat me in a staring contest, I’ll give you this cool rock I found. I’ll probably get to keep it.”

“Oh, you’re on!”

…

“I just beat Andrew in arms wrestling and I think I can beat you.”

“What? No you couldn’t. I’d bet my lunch on it.”

“Hah! And I’d bet my dinner.”

…

No matter the circumstance, there was always strings attached. It’s how it had always been between the two. Deal after deal and bet after bet. It made their lives more interesting, more fun.

Even when Y/n began to follow Jesus along with her fishermen friends, their friendship never changed. It wasn't selfishness that kept these deals going. Y/n would've done anything for him, and she knew he would not hesitate to do the same. It was just a habit for the both of them. By now it was practically their love language.

And speaking of love, the contests really helped cover up her crush on him as well.

So never in a million years did Y/n ever imagine something would change that. Especially not something as simple as a walk.

...

"How about these? They look edible enough." Y/n picked a few berries off a branch, presenting them to Mary. Her friend shook her head, a small smile on her face. "Not unless you want to vomit for a week. Let's keep walking."

Y/n's shoulders slumped as she tossed the berries onto the ground. They'd been searching for too long now and she was starving. She could only imagine how much worse Jesus and the disciples felt after such a long day. She silently prayed they would happen upon something to eat.

Mary stopped in her tracks, pointing to a small tree in the clearing a head. "Look over there!"

Sure enough, the fruit of the tree looked ripe. If Mary was happy, they must've been edible. Y/n thanked Adoni for answering her prayer and hurried over to the tree.

After a quick inspection, the women began to fill their baskets. Y/n had to hold herself back from eating it all right there.

"It smells so sweet, I don't know how long I can wait."

Mary laughed, reaching for a taller branch. The larger fruits grew higher. "I know! I'm very excited to get back to camp."

"The boys will be happy we actually found..." Y/n paused halfway through her sentence. Mary froze as well, her hand lowering slowly.

They had heard a noise coming from the road.

Hesitantly, the two turned toward the sound. It was one both Y/n and Mary were familiar with, but they hoped they were wrong. But no matter how much they wished, there was no mistaking that noise. It was a horse clad in metal armor. A Roman horse.

Sure enough, a soldier came riding around the corner. Mary dropped her basket in fear.

Y/n's heart hurt for her friend. She only knew bits and pieces of her story, but enough to assume the trauma a Roman had caused her.

Without moving, Y/n whispered at her friend. "It's alright. Maybe he won't notice."

Not a second later, the man turned his head, staring straight at them. He had noticed.

Mary's breath hitched and Y/n stepped closer to her. She knew she had to do something before he came over. She needed to protect her friend. Slowly, Y/n faced the raven haired girl, placing her hands on her shoulders. "Mary, you need to get out of here. I will distract him."

The poor girl never tore her eyes off the man. She was horrified at the sight of him. Still, she managed to get a few words out. "But... but you'll be here-."

"No buts. I'll be fine." Y/n took a quick glance at the soldier. He had hopped off his horse. "Go back to camp and I'll catch up with you."

She nodded quickly and as soon at the Roman began to walk towards them, Mary took off in the direction of camp. Y/n watched as she disappeared into the trees, then began to walk quickly in the opposite way.

To her terror, the plan worked as the man ran after her. She sped up even more, hoping he would give up.

"Hey, woman!"

She lowered her head, beginning to sprint.

"Don't ignore me!"

His footsteps sped up.

"I command you to stop!"

At this, Y/n ran as fast as she could. Her feet kicked up dirt as she dashed toward the denser part of the woods. The trees were so close. Just a little further...

A harsh shove caused her to tumble forward. The Roman man towered above her, but she would not let herself freeze. Y/n scrambled up, ready to somehow fight off this stronger, more skilled man. He was a soldier, for goodness sake! She was just some kid from Capernaum.

"Why do you keep running, woman?" The Roman sneered. "I don't like being ignored."

Y/n backed away, but he followed. He reached out, grabbing her wrist. "There's no use in making me angrier."

So Y/n shoved him back with a strength she didn't know she had. The Roman flailed his arms, stumbling backward with a shocked look. It was so out of character, that had Y/n not been in a life threatening situation, she would have found it amusing. Before she could make her escape, his shock turned to anger.

"Well now you've done it." He sneered, gripping her arms so that his fingernails dug into her skin. Y/n gave him the nastiest glare she could muster, stomping on the man's foot.

He let go of her , quickly reaching for his injury. Y/n took this chance to sprint, this time in the direction of camp.

As a child, she and her friends would often race, whether it be to win a bet against John, or just to spice up a walk. Unfortunately, she had never been the best runner and usually ended up next to Simon in these competitions. So Y/n couldn't bring herself to be surprised when the soldier eventually caught up to her once more. The act of defiance had only made him more infuriated.

He grabbed her arm, shoving her up against a tree. Y/n's head hit the trunk and stars danced in her vision. The Roman brought his face so close to hers, she could smell his vile breath. "You are dead, woman."

With a swift movement, his hand was around her neck, squeezing the air from her lungs. Y/n panicked, unable to breathe or even think. Her chest was burning from the lack of oxygen. She clawed at his arm, but he didn't let go. Her head was screaming with voices that weren't her own. Under different circumstances, she would have been confused, but now was not the time to question. The absence of air was making her crazy with fear.

Just before she thought she'd black out, the soldier was ripped off of her. She dropped to the floor, gasping like a fish out of water. She drank in the fresh air desperately, putting a hand to her chest in an attempt to slow her racing heart.

Looking up, she saw a few of the disciples and relief flooded her body. Her friends were here and she would be safe. Those voices in her head were not from insanity after all.

The ringing in her ears eased enough to hear James and John pouring out their passionate, "Sons of Thunder" rage toward the Roman. For a moment the man didn't know what to do.

But he was still a soldier. A ruthless killer.

So with a skilled swipe of his hand, he unsheathed his dagger, pressing it to John's chest. Y/n felt her heart drop.

"Step back!" He ordered the rest of the men. With a nervous glance, they stood down, moving away. The rage in Big James's eyes nearly made the Roman falter.

"If you touched her, I will burn you to the ground." John hissed at the man, ignoring the knife completely. He was not afraid.

But the Roman wasn't either. He sneered, barking out a harsh laugh. "You're hardly in any position to be threatening me."

He lifted his head toward the other disciples, gesturing at the dagger, still pressed against their friend's chest. "None of you are."

When none of them replied, the soldier smiled. "Good." He looked back to John. "Now you're coming with me."

Y/n stumbled to her feet in horror. She knew exactly what the man would do. He was going to imprison her friend for attacking a soldier, but not for long. Those who crossed Roman officials never survived for more than a month. Their supposed "life sentences" were always cut short.

So without thinking, she launched herself at the man, tackling him from the side. Not for a bet, not to win a contest. This was for John, no strings attached.

Y/n hit the ground hard, bringing the soldier down with her. His helmet rolled off completely as the two wrestled to pin the other. What Y/n didn't realize was the Roman had not let go of his weapon.

Before any of her friends could step in, the soldier pierced the knife through her side, just below the ribs. Y/n pushed herself off of him in shock, her hands flying to her stomach.

It took only seconds for blood to seep through her fingers.

For a moment, John could only stare. He didn't even breathe. Everything that was happening... it wasn't possible. But when his eyes locked with Y/n's, he felt reality sink in.

A pained whine caused him to tear his eyes away from the girl he loved. He spotted the Roman on the ground, the one responsible for this.

In that minute, all he could see was red.

If anyone ever asked him to recall that moment, he wouldn't have been able to. It was almost as if he'd blacked out. All he knew is that one moment, he was staring at the man on the ground, and the next, the disciples were dragging him off of the Roman. He didn't know how long the gap in his memory was, but it had been long enough to beat the soldier to a pulp.

With rage filling his veins, he tried to go back, but his brother stopped him with a hand to his chest. "Don't."

John's eye twitched as he watched the soldier writhe in pain. James spoke again, catching his full attention. "Y/n is hurt, brother. Think of her."

Just like that, the soldier left his mind as quickly as the anger. He turned to see Andrew leaning Y/n against the trunk of a tree. Her jaw was clenched in pain as he sat her down.

In an instant, he was kneeling in front of her, cradling her face in his hands. His eyes searched her for any other injuries he didn't know of. Of course, the stab wound was most prominent. The more he looked at it, the quicker his heart raced.

“No no no, Y/n you‘ll be okay.” She had never heard John’s voice sound so soft before. His words were gentle, but the panic shone clearly in his eyes. He was holding himself together, but it wouldn’t last long. “Just stay with me, please.”

"Hah, I saved your life." She let out a light laugh, half delirious. "Guess you really owe me one."

Under normal circumstances, John would have laughed too. He even would have joined in on their little habit of favors and bets. But now was not normal, not when his world was crashing down around him. He glanced behind him at the group of a shocked disciples, gesturing at one in particular. “Matthew, I need one of your handkerchiefs.”

Keeping his eyes away from the injury, Matthew fumbled for the cloth, quickly handing it to John and backing away just as fast.

Y/n hissed as the handkerchief was pressed over the wound. She knew the pressure would slow the bleeding, but it only made it hurt more.

“I know it hurts. You just have to trust me, okay?”

She did trust him, that much was true. She trusted him with her life, but the searing pain made her push his hand away. “Okay, you can stop n-.”

Another agonizing pang shot through her as he ignored her words. “Stop.”

“But Y/n we need to-.”

“No.”

“You’re bleeding out!”

“There’s nothing you can do!” Her shout caused a silence to fall over the group. They knew she was right. None of them were even close to being doctors. Y/n shook her head, bringing her voice back to normal. “We can wait until Jesus comes back. He can heal this.”

Her eyes met with John’s and her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Until then, can you hold me?”

Without hesitation, he gently pulled her to his chest. She gasped as the wound sent a jarring shock to her body, but it was worth it. Hearing his heartbeat soothed her.

John, on the other hand, was not comforted at all. His heart ached as he cradled his best friend in his arms. It should have been him. He should have gone with the Roman. Any prison sentence was more bearable than this.

Glancing back at the others, he grew angry realizing they were doing nothing. Now was not the time to stand around in shock. Y/n was right, they needed a miracle right now. "You heard her! Go get Jesus!"

Big James nodded, masking his worry for both his friend and his brother as he led the group back to camp.

The two were left alone in the clearing. All that was left to do was wait. John knew he couldn't do anything and it drove him insane. He gently brushed the stray hairs off of Y/n's face.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” John choked back a sob through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips as her hand cupped his cheek. John leaned into the touch, placing his own hand on top of hers.

“Please… don’t apologize.” Y/n’s voice was airy and light. “It’s not your fault. Promise me you’ll never think that.”

He didn’t understand this. It was his fault. He hadn’t been there for her. He should have been there. And now it was too late to take it back. He knew this was the truth, but how could he say no to Y/n? John owed this to her, to keep at least one promise. He throat tightened as tears sprang to his eyes. He moved his head to the side, placing a soft kiss on her palm.

“I promise.” He whispered, his voice still muffled as he pressed his lips to her hand once more.

“Good.” A real smile crinkled at the edges of her eyes. The sight sent knives into John’s chest. He knew she was in agony, yet she smiled for him. Her selflessness baffled him.

With a shaky breath, allowing herself lower her hand. “I’m so tired. I need to-.”

“No.” The rough edge to his voice surprised her. He almost sounded angry, a complete change from moments earlier. She knew that anger was not directed toward her. For the first time since she’d known him, John was scared. Purely, inexplicably terrified. “You need to wait until Jesus gets here.”

“I don’t know if…” Against her will, here eyes fluttered shut. She wanted to keep them open, but it was so difficult. Her eyelids had grown heavy and she couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Don’t close your eyes, love.” Yet another change of tone. His breath came out shaky from the effort of holding back his tears. “Keep them open for me, yeah?”

She hummed in response, but couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. John shook her gently, which should have hurt but she felt nothing.

"I can't lose you, can't you see that?!" He buried his face into her shoulder, shutting his eyes tightly. "I'm not strong enough for that."

The sudden absence of pain allowed Y/n to move. She carefully wrapped her arms around him, gently patting down his messy curls. "John, you're a son of thunder! You can handle anyth-."

"Not this." His shoulders shook with silent cries.

A few moments of silence passed, aside from John's muffled sobs. All Y/n could do was run a comforting hand through his hair. After a second, she spoke up.

"John?"

"Yes, love?"

She breathed deeply, but she still felt nothing. "The pain is gone."

"The pain...?" He lifted his head, worry etched on his face. He glanced at the wound which hadn't stopped bleeding. In fact, the handkerchief had long been soaked through. "But that doesn't make any sense."

"And I feel..." She tried to think of the words to describe it. "I feel like I'm floating almost. Everything is hazy."

John's heart sunk to his stomach. She was getting worse by the second. He prayed that Jesus would come soon.

With tears staining his face, he pressed his forehead against hers. Neither of them said a thing. Y/n was slowly loosening her hold as she grew weaker by the second. John was determined to take in her presence as much as possible. He so desperately didn't want this to be his last moments with her, but that wish was foolish. Jesus was still nowhere in sight.

"Y/n, I have something I need to say."

He could feel her light breath on his face as she answered with a soft hum. The response was the only indication she was alive. Her body was completely limp in his embrace. He knew time was running out. It was now or never.

Before, he would have been nervous at the mere thought of confessing. Now, it could be his last chance. The thought terrified him to the core. She had saved his life, so she deserved to know.

“I love you, Y/n."

All bets were off. It was the honest truth.

"I love you without any string attached.”

He sat up straight again, opening his eyes to see her face. Despite the tears blurring his vision, he could see the small upward tug of her lips. No words were said, but he didn't need any. He knew the smile meant she loved him too, no strings attached.

Right then, John heard his name being called from a distance. He looked back to find his brother running toward him at full speed. For a moment, John felt his hopes were lifted. But Big James came near, kneeling before he gave him the bad news. "We searched everywhere. We can't find Jesus.”

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” John felt a pang of dread hit him again.

“I mean exactly what I sa-.”

“Well you can’t mean that.” John cut off his older brother with a hiss. “We need Jesus now!”

James shook his head, trying to keep himself together. He wanted to scream and shout, but his little brother was in distress and needed him. He was the oldest and had to keep his emotions in check. For John, he had to.

“Let’s get her back to camp, brother.” Big James stood up, clenching his jaw to keep his voice steady. He had to look away, knowing that the sight of his dying best friend would break him for good. “Maybe He will be back by then.”

John nodded, slowly at first, but faster as his hopes were raised once more. It would be more likely that Jesus would be near the camp. He shifted Y/n carefully in his arms so she wouldn’t fall as he stood.

James put a hand in his brothers shoulder, giving him the most hopeful look he could muster. “She will make it.”

The two brothers prayed the words would be true.

…

Back at camp, the disciples were in disarray. No one could find Jesus anywhere. Mary had been gone for quite some time as well. After telling the disciples about the Roman, she had disappeared completely.

John rushed Y/n into the women’s tent, setting her down gently. Mother Mary gave him a reassuring look, promising to do everything she could. Despite her kind words, John still had to be dragged out by his brother.

So there the disciples sat in deafening silence. Simon had suggested doing something useful to pass the time, but no one had the strength in them to move. The weight of stress was crushing, an exhausting burden to carry.

John eyed the tent, unable to tear his gaze away. Every bone in his body told him to rush in and make sure Y/n was okay. But he knew there was nothing he could do.

In that exact moment, Mary came out of the tent. The group stood up, their hearts racing. Her face was sullen as she looked at each of the boys. She locked eyes with John for a moment, then glanced away. Slowly, she gave the disciples a small shake of her head, and casted her gaze back toward the ground.

For a moment, no one dared to move. No one even breathed. No words had been said, but they understood Mary as if she’d spoken clear and loud. A simple gesture set their world on edge. No one wanted to accept the horror of it all, the meaning of her gesture, the truth behind the tent’s curtain. Y/n was gone.

Then John broke the silence, letting out a humorless laugh. “You’re lying.”

They waited impatiently for the punch line of this horrible joke. Surely, it was all a prank. Any minute now Y/n would walk out, her smile glowing in the evening sun.

Any minute….

But that minute never came.

“You’re lying!” The younger disciple’s blood had run cold. For many, the weight of reality hit them like a rock, but for John the horrors slowly dawned on him one by one. It was not a single moment of realization, but many moments. He was frozen as the truth tortured him from inside until it was no longer fiction.

Mary could not look him in the eye again. “I’m sorry.”

With that, he rushed forward. Toward the tent, toward his beloved. He needed to see her.

But the strong arms of Simon and his brother held him back. He strained against their hold, heels digging into the dirt as he tried to push himself away from them. “I have to see her. Let me go!”

They did not let go.

“Please I need to see her! I have to-.”

The words died in his throat as he fell to his knees. His body shook with sobs and his fingers dug into the ground. His heart burned like he had been stabbed himself. She was gone.

Then there was Big James, kneeling directly in front of him. Without a second thought, he pulled his younger brother into his arms. The sound of John’s cries were muffled in his shoulder.

There sat the Sons of Thunder, holding onto each other so tightly in their grief. The silent tears of the older brother were vastly different than the weeping of the younger, but they felt the same pain.

“I should have been there.” John gasped through his tears. “I should have been with her but I- I wasn’t… and now…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

His grip tightened in his brothers shirt as he let out a strangled cry. “I was going to ask for her hand.”

Big James shut his eyes, more tears falling in the process. “I know, brother. I know.”

“I loved her so much, James. I still do.” He finally lifted his head from his brother’s shoulder. Grief was etched into his face. “No strings attached.”

At that moment, Simon walked up behind him, placing a hand on John's shoulder. Andrew came up with tearstained cheeks, doing the same. Slowly, each disciple followed, comforting each other as they mourned their friend.

...

As evening turned to dusk, a familiar face came into the camp from the woods. Jesus of Nazareth had returned from a long day of praying and preparing. When He saw the disciples in their circle, He took a breath, preparing Himself for what was about to happen.

John heard His footsteps before He had come near. With a broken voice, he spoke to his teacher. "Where were you?"

"I was preparing."

"Preparing?" John stood up, his voice growing louder. "We needed you here!"

"John-."

"You were the One who could heal her!" The disciple continued, taking a step forward. It was foolish to be angry at the Messiah, but he couldn't help it. Jesus could have fixed this but He hadn't. "How could you let this happen!?"

James put a hand on his chest to stop him, but his younger brother continued. "The Messiah is supposed to bring good to Israel! Well, this isn't good! If you were here, you could have healed her. But no, you were away and she had no one to help. Now she's..."

The burning in his throat cut him off. For the first time that day, he really looked at his teacher's face. Just like him, there were tears in His eyes. Just like the rest of them, Jesus wept for the loss of a friend.

John bit his lip to stop it from trembling. What was he doing? This was the Christ, the Savior of the world! How could he be angry? How could he chastise the Son of God?

Jesus shook His head, placing His hands on His disciple's shoulders. "John, didn't I tell you there would still be heartbreak? That there would still be suffering?"

He lowered his face to the ground in shame. "You did, Rabbi."

"If I told you that there would still be trials, then why do you doubt My goodness? Why do you doubt that I cannot use evil for good?"

"I'm sorry, Rabbi." For the hundredth time that day, John cried. "I'm sorry for my lack of faith."

Without hesitation, Jesus pulled him into an embrace. John was in awe at His compassion for a sinner like him. He had just rebuked the Messiah, yet he was in His arms.

"I forgive you, but in your suffering, remember the goodness of God. For I turn sorrow into joy."

John sniffed, nodding his head. Jesus stepped back, holding John's face in His hands.

"Now that won't always mean raising a loved one from the dead..." A smile tugged at Jesus's lips. "...but perhaps this time it will."

Without another word, He promptly made His was toward the tent. John was frozen, unsure if he had heard his Rabbi correctly. Jesus turned back before entering, addressing Ramah and His mother. "May I?"

Mary nodded, a knowing smile on her face as Ramah watched, her mouth open in shock. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Neither could any of the disciples.

When Jesus disappeared into the tent, all was silent. No one knew what to expect. The Messiah's words had been plain as day, but they were miraculous. They waited, for what seemed like a lifetime, for their teacher to return.

When He finally did, Y/n was at his side, smiling as brightly as usual. She was standing in front of them, completely alive. No one dared to moved.

There she was, the love of John's life, the girl who had nearly died in his arms. She was right there. He blinked slowly, like he was in a dream.

It wasn't until Jesus gestured for him to come over that the miracle finally hit him. Y/n was alive. She was dead and now she lived. Jesus, the Lamb of God, had done this.

John ran forward, pulling Y/n into his arms and spinning her. The impact of the embrace left to two breathless, but their smiles were as bright as day. He touched his forehead to hers, holding her face in his hands as he soaked up the fact that the was still here.

After a moment, he let go, looking back at Jesus. He stood behind them, watching the scene with misty eyes. John immediately ran and hugged Him tightly. "Thank you, Rabbi."

"You don't doubt that I turn sorrow into joy now, do you?" Jesus laughed, patting His disciple on the back. He then nudged John back toward Y/n.

"Forgive Me if I'm wrong," said the Messiah who was never wrong, "but I believe you two have something to talk about."

John raised a brow in confusion, but Y/n grinned sheepishly. "He's right. I think there's something I owe you."

"You? Owe me?" John blinked incredulously. "You sacrificed you life to save me. What could you possibly owe me?"

"The truth." Y/n answered so quickly, she nearly interrupted him. "I heard what you said before. I couldn't speak then, so now I owe you the truth. I love you too."

She loved him too.

He didn't know what to say in response. It was everything he'd ever dreamed of. So instead, he took a step closer. "May I kiss you?"

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as if she had been waiting for the question. "You may."

And so without a second thought, he pressed his lips to hers. He poured out the love he had felt for her for years, the pain and and anguish of losing her, and the overwhelming relief of getting her back into that kiss.

When the two parted, John's heart was exploding with joy. His arms were still wrapped tightly around her, like he was afraid to let go. He closed his eyes again, his face so close to hers that their noses touched.

“I will love you forever.”

“No strings attached?” The grin was evident in Y/n's voice. John's smile brightened to match hers before kissing her again.

“No strings attached.”

#the chosen #the chosen x reader #the chosen john

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