#john stones oneshot

[tommyspeakycap]

all for you

success brings john something, but it never brings him happiness. only you could do that.

just a little short one to get back into writing :) inspired by this song by cian ducrot

i roll over, but it’s empty…you used to lay here beside me

Once the cheers of his teammates have died down, when the buzzing in his ears created by the booming stadium finally began dulling, John is haunted by the deafening silence of his home for yet another lonely night.

It’s on days like this that once again John is reminded of the noise he used to come home to. You were always there, bounding through the large house the second you heard him enter the foyer. Your sock covered feet would propel you into him, giggling and congratulating before making some kind of squeezing sound with how tight you would hug him. The dog would yip in delight at the joy of his human parents happiness and his collar would jingle as he bounded around you both.

On the days where those post match greetings were not so happy, the clinking of the dogs collar were still ever present and your soft soothing voice was always there to greet him and tell him how brilliantly he did anyway, and that they would get back at it the very next day.

The house is so fearfully quiet now. No black and white collie collar metal tingling together, nor his paws clicking through the house. No giggling greeting and certainly no you.

He used to blame you for leaving. John couldn’t understand why you would leave him. He had given you everything. This beautiful big house with rooms and a garden fit to home a happy family, birthdays, Christmas’ valentines and anniversaries adorned with gifts and jewellery. There were holidays and dinners, away day travelling in a private jet and only the nicest clothes. How could have given you all of that and you just up and leave him?

He resented you for it.

It took him far too long to realise that all of those things did not matter. Not one of them mattered to you. Any day of the week you would’ve taken a walk with Dean in the park next to John where he could be himself, holding your hands and telling jokes to make you laugh with all his funny stories while the wild dog runs laps around the park over a multi hundred dollar meal in the deafening silence of small talk and absolutely no emotion from your boyfriend.

“How could you name a dog Dean?” He asked once, laughing out his words as he scratched behind the young dog’s ears while Dean licked at his face. “It’s a good name John!” You had protested with a playful pout, “He suits it doesn’t he? Handsome name for a very handsome dog I say, eh Dean?” You coo as he launches himself over to you. “Dean and John, it suits well. I always did love supernatural.” You had giggled afterwards, making John roll his eyes. Dean was always your dog, nearly a year old when you and John moved in together - so it was a no brainer who the dog would go with when you broke up. That didn’t hurt John any less, he’d lived with you two nearly three years and by extension lived with the playful, energetic furry friend too. He couldn’t understand how you could do this to him. Leave, throw everything away and take the dog.

i swallow my pride now ‘cause it’s all on me

John was angry. He was angry for months, furious even. So enraged that he pulled all of the pictures from the walls, the dressers and the frames into a bottom drawer in the wall in closet off the master bedroom he now slept in alone. It took him a while to calm down, to let his heart fall into the hurt phase of relationship grieving. It was in this phase that he began to bring out the pictures again, mostly so he could sort through them enough to even begin to know what to do with them. The empty wall tacs once hidden behind happy beaming pictures were haunting him daily.

So out came the pictures and it hit him like a freight train.

When did he stop loving on you the way he should, and how could he have been so blatantly blind to it?

And all he could think was no wonder you left.

#john stones x reader #john stones imagine #john stones imagines #john stones oneshot #football fics #footballer fics #footie fics #football imagines #footballer imagines #john stones

[emwritesfootball]

Conversations With My Future Self | John Stones

Description: John Stones sits down at a dinner table to eat with an unexpected guest

A/N: This is a bit different than anything I think I’ve written recently, but credit to @knockmeforsixkmeforsix for her lovely idea.

Warnings: none. This isn’t really a pairing piece, but there is a magical element to this so suspend some belief please xo

Tags: @bluemoonstonesy @stonesyy

- - -

“You look familiar.” John can’t help the words that come out of his mouth, but the man in front of him warrants the statement. John doesn’t know where he knows him from, but he’s sure it’ll come to him later.

“So do you.” No clues from the man’s response as he gives John a once-over and pushes his glasses back up his nose. There’s a hint of salt and pepper in his hair and some crows’ feet around the eyes, but John has no idea how old the man actually is. “John Stones?”

John can’t help the pride that swells in his chest at being recognized, but this feeling is a little bit different - kind of like running into an old friend. “That’s me. Would you like an autograph?”

“Nah. Got plenty at home.” The man shakes his head and waves the comment away with his hand, which is when John notices the watch. It’s the same watch he’s wearing on his own left hand, but the man’s suit makes the watch look vintage. There’s no way it’s the same exact watch, though, because John had his custom-made after City won the league in 2021, engraved specifically for him. 

The two men stare at each other awkwardly until the familiar man cracks. “John. May I call you John?” John nods and the man continues. “Sit, please. I haven’t had the pleasure of eating with anyone in a while.”

John takes a seat across from the man, his curiosity peaked. “Any reason why?” He grimaces, realizing his error. “Sorry, that’s a bit personal.”

“Don’t worry about it - talking to you feels a bit like talking to a younger version of myself.”

The comment makes John feel off-kilter, but luckily the waiter shows up. John orders a pint of his favourite beer, and the man does too.

“Hope that’s not too awkward, us ordering the same thing. I was going to order that before you said it - it’s my favourite.”

“Mine, too.”

The beer arrives, and the two men take sips of their respective pints before picking up the conversation where they left off. “So, about your question. I haven’t had the pleasure of eating with anyone in a while - not since my wife and I split up.”

It’s then that John notices the tan line where a ring used to be on the man’s finger. “When was that?”

“A few years ago. We just…grew apart. She was there for the majority of my career and after my retirement but then it got complicated. You married?”

John shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve got a girl, though. She and I are a bit off at the moment, though, but I’m sure we’ll be back on again soon.”

“I see.” The man mutters something that John doesn’t quite catch, but it sounds like something along the lines of Oh yes, that wouldn’t happen yet anyway - still got a few more years.

“What was that?”

The man takes a sip of his beer. “Nothing. Just reminiscing.”

“Any advice for me for the future?”

“Mm, that’s a tough one. What are you struggling with the most right now?”

John thinks for a moment, his brain scrambling for an answer. “Probably the UCL this year. The pressure is really on, and I want to be the best and help the team win the Champions League at the end of the season.”

“This will sound cliche, but you just have to believe in yourself. You’re only twenty-eight; there’s still a lot more time left in your career and you’ve worked hard to redeem yourself since the 2020-2021 season. You’re a different man now, John, and something tells me you’re going to retire with Manchester City, so there’s many more years left to become who you’re destined to be.”

“I’m twenty-nine, actually,” John grumbles, aware of how petulant he sounds, but the ‘advice’ he was just given sounds like a load of utter shite. “What do you know about the man I’m destined to be?”

The man shrugs, smirks, and takes another sip of beer. “You’re on your own with that one, kid.”

“Whatever.”

The waiter comes back around and once again, the man orders the same thing as John for an entree. 

“Let me guess: also your favourite?”

“Yes. My ex-wife and I would go here every Tuesday for date night and order the same thing every time. Got so frequent that our food was practically on the table the moment we sat down.” The man chuckles fondly at the memory, and John makes a mental note to start bringing his girl here when they’re back together. He wonders why he hasn’t already; it’s right up her alley in terms of food and atmosphere. 

“What was your ex like?” John has long-since abandoned any form of nuance when asking this man questions. John feels like he knows the man, and just wants to know as much about his life as he possibly can. Something tells him that this man holds significance to John.

“Gorgeous. Older woman. Gave me my second and third children. We got married when I was thirty-two; divorced when I was forty.”

“How old are you now?”

“Fifty.”

“Have you retired already?”

The man nods. “Retired at thirty-five.”

“Why?”

“Injury took me out. Never fully recovered after that and my wife and I decided it was time for me to retire. I’d made enough money to where I could take care of us without having to find another job, but I was truly lost after walking away from my career. The five years leading up to our divorce were hard and it was ultimately why we ended things.”

“Do you still love her?” John realizes he has to know the answer to this, and the man obliges.

“In a way, yes. She’s the mother of two of my children, and I harbor no ill will towards her. Our children are past eighteen now and I know they’re well-adjusted because of her.”

“Does she still love you?”

“Yes, but it’s different now, too. We co-parented well, and we’re still good friends, but I don’t know if I would say she’s the love of my life - nor I hers. I want the best for her and I know she wants the best for me, and we just know now that we aren’t best for each other, even though we thought so at the time.”

The food comes and there’s silence as the two men dig into their entrees, enjoying each other’s company without words until they’re done. John mulls over the other questions he wants to ask, but waits until they’ve put in an order for dessert before doing so.

“Do you have any love in your life now?”

“Nothing serious. I can still sweet-talk a lady, but I don’t have anyone I want to marry again. Not sure I will.”

“Do you still keep in touch with the people you worked with before you retired?”

“Some of them, yes. I’m sure you probably already know who from City you’ll be keeping in touch with once they leave, and I know you already keep in touch with a few.”

“I do. And there’s a few on Three Lions as well.”

“Ah, yes. How is Harry Maguire?”

John doesn’t even want to know how the man knows he texts Maguire occasionally. “Still got his head up his arse playing for United. But good, as far as I know.”

“Sounds about right.”

Dessert comes and there’s more silence until the plates are empty. 

“Got any more questions for me, John?”

The bill comes and the man pays for the both of them, ignoring John’s offer to pay his share. 

“No, I think that’s it. Will we see each other again?”

The man stands and John does, too. They shake hands, and John gets a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

“No matter what I’ll always be thinking of you.”

John is stunned into silence, watching the man walk out of the restaurant and disappear into the night. He runs a hand over the fabric covering the tattoo bearing those exact words, wondering if he just met a future version of himself.

He quickly dismisses the thought, though. 

After all, that’s impossible.

#john stones imagine #john stones imagines #john stones oneshot #john stones one shot

[thousandfourhundreddays]

Can I request 25 off your prompt list for john stones please x

A/n: hi anon!! Thank you for your request! This’ll be my first john piece so I hope it doesn’t disappoint❤️‍🔥

Also a reminder that my requests are OPEN!!

Redamancy

(N)the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full

“Would you just hold still, John?” You spoke, trying to keep your voice from wavering, the burning sensation of John’s stare lingering on your skin as you finished tying the dark navy tie around his neck, something which, despite his best efforts, he failed to do himself. However now, as he held your waist gently, his eyes tracing your features where the rich light of the 6pm sun skimmed your skin, a not so subtle smirk on his lips and a space no wider than the clothes you both wore between your bodies, you wondered if he ever really tried to tie it himself in the first place, as if this wasn’t his plan all along.

He still made you nervous, even three years after you first met. Not the hesitant or doubtful type of nervous, but the beautiful, deep sense of excitement, teenage romance type of nervous, and despite the aspirations to win medals and trophies, he made it his lifelong goal to make sure you knew he loved you the same, ‘more even’ he always claimed, but you could never agree with that. The butterflies that accumulated in your stomach never left, only growing when his skin touched yours, his fingers running up and down the expanse of your waist, his fingers climbing higher towards your collar bone, tracing the shape, before moving along your arm, grazing your skin, making his way to your wrist. He pulled your hand away from his tie to place barely there kisses against the inside of your wrist,

“John” you giggled softly, “let me finish”

“It’s done” he whispered into your skin, his kisses moving back towards your shoulder as he pulled you impossibly closer, placing your arm around his neck, your other still grasping his tie, habitually admitting defeat, using the material to pull him closer.

His lips captured your own, a few fleeting kisses being shared before he brought his free hand to the nape of your neck, holding you close as he placed a final, more passionate, yet still gentle kiss upon your lips, pulling a hum of satisfaction from your throat,

A content breath escaped your lips, settling your head to rest on his chest, listening to the quickening beat of his heart as you both stood bathing in the quiet of your bedroom.

“We should get going” John’s voice broke the silence after a few moments, the charity dinner you’d been invited to only fifteen minutes or so away from beginning.

“Mhm” you hummed in agreement, the two of you reluctantly pulling apart, yet staying as close as possible as you took one final glance over each other before you left the house.

“I love you” even if you were to have your eyes closed, you would be able to here the smile in his voice,

“I love you” you returned, a giddiness washing over you as you placed what you swore to be a final kiss to his lips,

“Your ties still wonky”

#john stones #john stones blurbs #john stones fluff #john stones x reader #john stones oneshot #john stones imagine #john stones blurb #john stones angst #john stones smut #man city #manchester city #manchester city imagine

[percervall]

all I want for christmas

Player: John Stones Word: 1038 Warnings: None, babydaddy!John, fluff Request: Present shopping You left no suggestions anon, so I hope you like it! Merry Christmas!

---

“Are you sure you’re okay taking them both?” she asked him as she fixed Willow’s bobble hat. The plan was for John to take both children shopping while she got the gifts Father Christmas would bring. John could tell she was nervous about leaving the children, but mainly baby Ollie with him. He knew it wasn’t because she didn’t trust him, it was more because Oliver was only six months old. 

“I’m sure. Oliver is asleep in his carrier and Willow is so excited to pick out a gift for mummy, aren’t you baby?” John said, gently tugging on his daughter’s arm who nodded excitedly. 

“Go, love. I’ve got this. We’ll meet you at the restaurant for lunch,” he reassured her when he saw the worry etch itself between her brows. She gave him a quick kiss, brushing a finger over their son’s head before kneeling down in front of Willow. 

“You be good for daddy, okay?”

“I always good mummy,” Willow said, making her mother chuckle. She stood back up and took the car keys John held out for her. They watched her walk away before John looked down at his 4-year-old. 

“Okay sweet pea, what do you want to get mummy for Christmas?”

Willow thought for a moment before her face broke out in a smile. 

“Mummy always steals my pencils when we draw, so pencils! And a mug for tea!”

“Those are great ideas baby, let’s go find mummy some pencils,” John said with a smile and started them off in the direction of an art supply shop. Ever since their daughter was born, they had made sure that the focus during the holidays would be on giving and not receiving. They knew their children would grow up in a privileged position because of John’s line of work and both found it important that they taught that to their children.

“I can’t find the pencils daddy,” Willow said as she looked around the shop, still holding his hand.

“I think they’re over there, sweet pea,” John said, pointing towards the back. Willow pretty much skipped over to the display, taking in all the different brands and types of colouring pencils. To the four-year-old the brand names meant very little, and John knew that his wife wouldn’t care much either whether they’d be Faber-Castell or some house name brand; as long as Willow had picked them, she’d treasure them. 

“Remember you have £20,- to spend and you also want to get mummy a new mug,” John gently explained as Willow looked at all the tins of pencils. 

“If I get this one daddy, do I still have moneys for a mug?” she asked, pointing to a set that cost around ten pounds.

“You do, well done baby,” he praised his daughter. He was stunned every day by how clever she was and how fast she was growing up now that she had started school. John cherished spending time with her, especially with his hectic schedule. 

Willow carefully picked up the tin and made her way over to the till.

“Hi!” she said as she placed it down for the employee to scan.

“Oh hey little miss,” the woman behind the till said, “Would you like it gift wrapped?” 

“Yes, please,” Willow answered, “It’s for my mummy. For Christmas,” she added, resting her hands on the edge of the counter as she stood on her tiptoes so she could watch. The woman smiled, continuing to make small talk with the little girl as she expertly wrapped the gift. John handed Willow a twenty pound note so she could pay for her own gift.

“There you go sweetheart, and here’s your change,” the woman said, giving Willow the money back.

“Thank you!” the little girl replied, handing her dad the money while she took the paper bag with her mum’s Christmas present. 

“Daddy, what does this say?” Willow asked when they were standing in front of a display of holiday-themed mugs. She pointed at a cream coloured mug with red lettering and decorated with a Christmas tree sitting in a cup of tea. 

“That one says Christmas tea oh Christmas tea ,” John said, swaying slightly from side to side to settle Oliver who had just woken up. 

“Really?” she asked, looking up at him. John chuckled and nodded.

“Yes, sweet pea, really. And you have enough money left to get it if you want.” 

“Mummy will love it. She loves Christmas and she loves tea!” Willow said excitedly as she carefully picked up the mug. John couldn’t help but smile at his daughter’s enthusiasm.

“Okay baby, let’s go pay and then we’re going to get lunch,” he said, steering her in the direction of the till. 

+

By the time they arrived at the restaurant, his wife had already gotten them a table. Willow spotted her mum and ran inside, flinging herself into her mother’s arms.

“Mummy! I got all your presents! But it’s a surprise so I can’t tell you what I got!” the girl rambled excitedly as she let her mum help her out of her coat. John chuckled and leaned down as best he could with Oliver still strapped to his chest to give her a kiss.

“Hey love,” he murmured. She smiled back at him in return before focussing her attention back on Willow. John unzipped his coat and undid the straps of the carrier so he could put Oliver in the high chair.

“Sounds like you had fun with daddy, my darling girl.” Willow nodded her head as she climbed onto the chair in between her parents. John leant back in the chair as he watched her help Willow navigate the menu. Oliver was happily playing with some toys, babbling away. John couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have found such a warm and caring person in his wife to share life with, who in turn had gifted him with two amazing children. As if she could read his mind, his wife looked up from the menu and gave him a wink. John knew she had also bought his present while she had the time, but in all honesty this was all he wanted for Christmas: just spending time with his little family. 

Tags: @football-and-fanfics @kostasstsimikass

Click here if you want to be added to the tag list

#football fanfic #football oneshot #football drabble #john stones fanfic #john stones oneshot #john stones drabble #ManCity fanfic #ManCity oneshot #ManCity drabble #12 days of fluffmas

[iheartjohnlennon]

Fic masterlist!

Imagines/Oneshots/Fics

John

'Let me take you down'

A sultry threesome with John and Paul...

'Lost weekend'

John eats you out as an apology...

'Misty'

John comes over to sort things out...

'You know I feel alright'

John gets jealous and takes you to the broom closet...

'Because'

John gets you high, one thing leads to another...

'You really got a hold on me'

John's secret love for his assistant gets uncovered...

Paul

'All my loving'

A casual session with Paul...

'Let me take you down'

A sultry threesome with John and Paul...

'Looking out for you'

Paul apologises for his jealousy over another man...

'Synchronised'

You and Paul try 69...

'Any time at all, any time at all'

Paul drags you to the nearest broom closet...

George

'Moonlight on the river'

The aftermath of fucking on the beach is pretty melancholy...

'Heaven is a bedroom'

You guys make the cutest throuple...

'I'd have you anytime'

George confesses his love to you, with help from Paul and Ringo...

'Behind that locked door'

You want to try something new on George, something that will leave him breathless, restrained...

Ringo

'Heaven is a bedroom'

You guys make the cutest throuple...

Headcanons

You dating George as Ringo's sibling

Your relationship with teddy boy John

Their reaction, and the aftermath, of you wanting to be dominant

Alphabets

The Beatles NSFW Alphabet - John

The Beatles NSFW Alphabet - Paul

Others

Mick Jagger

'Luna, amore e no'

Mick's sexy affair with the fashion designer who's making his wife's wedding dress...

And there'll always be more to come...

I accept requests!!

Check out my ao3 x

#paul mccartney x reader #the beatles #60s rock #the beatles imagine #the beatles smuts #vintage #the beatles x reader #john lennon x reader #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison imagine #george harrison x reader #george harrison #the beatles fandom #the beatles fanfiction #beatlemania #spotify #beatles art #rock music #classic rock #rock n roll #rpf #paul mccartney imagine #smut #oneshot #the rolling stones #mick jagger #rock

[mountsmason]

England Diaries: Training

↳ instagram files

summary: you work as a photographer for the england team when they return to camp for the nation's league fixtures.

pairing: slightly mason mount x reader

a/n: any kinda feedback would be appreciated as it keeps me motivated to write, via anon in my asks or simply in the replies/tags <33

➪ england diaries pt. 1, the arrivals

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

yourusername

liked by jarrodbowen, declanrice, and others

yourusername mason looking a bit different here 🤔

view all comments

masonmount not now y/n 😔

↳ yourusername too soon?

↳ masonmount too soon 💔

↳ yourusername my bad...

declanrice big j bowen in the building 🔥

May 30, 2022

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yourusername

liked by chelseafc, jackgrealish, and others

yourusername reece and tammy back in training 💪

view all comments

benchilwell the boys 💙

reecejames let's go 🏴

tammyabraham 🦁🦁

May 30, 2022

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yourusername

liked by philfoden, fikayotomori, and others

yourusername it's as if @jarrodbowen has been on the squad for years

view all comments

declanrice buzzing to have you here brother ❤

↳ yourusername we can all see that 😂

tyronemings someone give @conorcoady_ a 😘 from me 🤣

johnstonesofficial is it legal for @jackgrealish to have his shorts that high up ?

↳ yourusername I had a feeling you'd be the one to notice that

↳ johnstonesofficial meaning?

↳ yourusername nothing 🙂

↳ jackgrealish I needed some ventilation 😎

↳ yourusername 👀 that's a big word

May 30, 2022

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yourusername

liked by laurenfryer_, sasha__rebecca, and others

yourusername today's winners 🏆

view all comments

declanrice boyband vibes

masonmount dream team 💯

jackgrealish always winning 💙

May 30, 2022

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yourusername

liked by npope29, kierantrippier, and others

yourusername and ofc our keepers (minus pickford who was too busy shouting at john)

view all comments

aaronramsdale *about to grab the popcorn*

npope29 I'm just glad it's not me pickers is having a go at 😂

jpickford1 he doesn't listen 🙄😤🤬

↳ johnstonesofficial 🖕

May 31, 2022

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yourusername has deleted this post

liked by masonmount and 5 others

yourusername I heard from a friend of a friend....

view all comments

masonmount what did you hear? 😏

sasha__rebecca Y/N!!! wrong account maybe?!?!

↳ yourusername SHIT SHIT SHIT

↳ yourusername WHY ISN'T IT DELETING

yourusername it was nice knowing you all 😃

yourusername I'm never gonna hear the end of this

↳ declanrice no you won't 😊

↳ reecejames I second that

↳ conorcoady_ I third that

↳ yourusername THIS HAS ONLY BEEN UP FOR 2 MINUTES HOW HAVE YOU ALL SEEN IT ALREADY??

masonmount taken a screenshot in case you delete this 😎

↳ tammyabraham send it in the group chat bro

↳ yourusername don't send it in the group chat bro

↳ masonmount too late 🤪

↳ yourusername yeah I'm fucked

May 31, 2022

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yourusername

liked by judebellingham, masonmount, and others

yourusername I see no difference

view all comments

declanrice y/n wishing mace would look at her like that 🤣🤣

↳ yourusername nah I'd rather Jude look at me like that 😉

↳ johnstonesofficial now that's a plot twist no-one was expecting👀

June 2, 2022

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#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount oneshot #mason mount fic #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount blurb #chelsea #chelsea fc #england nt #football #footballer imagine #mountsmasonfics #declan rice #reece james #tammy abraham #john stones #jack grealish #conor coady #phil foden #aaron ramsdale #nick pope #jude bellingham #jarrod bowen #instagram au

[blueaetherr]

angst w john where he and the reader get into a big fight but it ends kinda cute..🫶🫶

love, my (infrunami)

pairing: john stones x gn!reader [they/them]

warning(s): none

summary: the one where john realises that his lover has been right in front of him this whole time

now playing: infrunami by john stones

He said one wrong thing, and the argument began. He said some things, they said some things, unpleasant and unfiltered words becoming common in the conversation. There was a lot to be said and neither refused to hold back. Then John said it and suddenly, he could only hear himself. It was crazy how fast your choice of words could ruin the relationship.

"I don't think we should be together anymore."

There was a bit of confusion in the room. From Y/N, from John. They waited on him, patiently looking on at John to explain his words but his silence remained as loud as their own.

"Okay then," Y/N bit down on their lip, nodding. "I just don't understand. Where did all of this come from?" They didn't understand where this energy came from, the switch was so sudden. But that was okay. If he no longer liked them like that then they couldn't change how he felt about them. He seemed so certain yet unsure but they wouldn't argue it. They refused to. There was no point in fighting for a one-sided relationship. At least some reasoning and understanding were needed, something to ease the blue heart.

"I... I—I don't know." John couldn't find his words. He had them indeed, in his thoughts and feelings. But he didn't want to say anything out loud. He saw it all and more. The tears threatening to fall, the shaken expression, the nervous ticks. So much pain and sadness and confusion fell on Y/N's shoulders all at once. A heart was breaking because of him—he was essentially a heartbreaker, and he didn't want to add to it. "I'm sorry."

Y/N sniffled as they wiped their nose, exhaling a low breath. "It's okay." Even in heartbreak they were calm and collected in how they felt, something they did to reassure John that they were okay.

And the two went their separate ways, with dignity and respect. Though it didn't feel like it to John. It was hard to not think about them. Remaining friends, he saw Y/N everywhere. They were always there. At his matches, helping him with recovery, crossing paths through mutual friends. After everything that happened, John and Y/N remained friends. It was all love from them to him. They were his friend way before they were his lover.

There was a lot to love about Y/N and John failed to see a lot of that before the relationship even existed. Only did he witness a whole lot of that when the two fell apart.

They were the embodiment of his favourite poems, anything that held words, feelings and thoughts. They personified everything he wanted to feel, the good and the bad of it all, felt alone or together with another. Today, yesterday and tomorrow were his favourite days with them. They got along with everyone around them. John thought Y/N was nothing less than magnificent and amazing and whole. And this was only half of it all. 

When it was John and Y/N, all was complete. He was complete. But when it was simply John, he felt left without, apart. Withdrawn from, lacking in more than less—anything that could be John and Y/N. 

Sitting under the dim lights in his back garden late at night, John turned to Y/N, saying, "I've been thinking—"

"You've been thinking..." Y/N let out a scoff, shaking their head. They let their voice dip as their sight wandered out to the sky. "Sounds just like you." John was always the pensive one in the relationship. Always in his thoughts, in his feelings. Sometimes drifting through the unreal and it became hard to get him back into reality when he was really into it.

"Have you thought about us since we broke up?" He saw the mood visibly fall from Y/N's face but he expected it. With the way the two ended and all the time that has passed, why would Y/N want to talk about it all now?

"And why would I do that?" Y/N cocked their head to the side, eyeing John. "I remember you being so sure that there was nothing left to this relationship." Time had passed since the two broke up and Y/N remained hurt from it all. That didn't mean, though, that they would cling onto John as if everything would fall back into place. How could you wait for someone to come back when they were so sure of never returning? Not because they couldn't, but they simply didn't want to. John made it so clear that he didn't want to return to the relationship.

"I think I was wrong. I know I was wrong, Y/N," John said.

They turned their focus back on John, folding their arms. "Where did this switch come from, John? What changed? Was it me? 'Cause that wasn't my intent." No longer were they heartbroken, but the relationship was still something that they always came back to. What did they do wrong? Why did it really end? John never gave them peace of mind with the way the two ended.

"No, no, no. You didn't, actually." He tried to reach for their hand but they pulled away. He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. Fair enough, I guess. He removed his hands from his face. "I thought I fell out of us and ending the relationship felt like the right thing to do. And it was but I made you think it was all your fault when really it was all on me, and for that I'm sorry."

"I know I've gotten so much wrong so I'm just trying to make rights here if you would like that." John took in a small breath and let his focus fall solely on Y/N. "I want to start over, Y/N. Make some amends between us, get myself right with you. You might not want to... and that's okay, I'll understand. I get it. But if you ever want to, I'm here."

There was some relief in getting everything off his chest. It might all just backfire yet John was content with getting everything straight, offering some understanding that Y/N should have gotten time ago. He wanted to get another chance with Y/N if they allowed it, of course. If they refused to give him another chance, that would be okay. And if they did then that would also be okay; either choice would be understandable from every single angle of things. 

He knew that maybe he was asking, even begging, a lot from Y/N. To hear him out for his wrongs in the relationship, to forgive him, to start again with a new relationship. But John simply couldn't resist the idea of getting Y/N back. The idea of not even trying pushed him to do the exact opposite. He missed everything about them. That was all he wanted, all of Y/N. In the relationship and the friendship. 

Their smiles, their laughs, their company, their humour, the list was endless with Y/N. And the crazy thing was Y/N was always there; the break-up killed the relationship yet never did they go astray from John. Never was there a mystery in Y/N. They had always been in front of him. The thing was John had been too blind to see all of them for what they were, and that's how the relationship fell off.

But John was ready to build it all up again, if he was given the chance.

His hand was open and ready to take but Y/N took their time, brows pulling together. They were hesitant about this. They were potentially fooling themself, going back to the same person who let their heart turn blue, going back to the person who couldn't organise their thoughts. A change in actions wasn't a guarantee and they knew that well.

But it also wasn't impossible. Y/N never fell out of love with John. In fact, John never fell out of love with Y/N. It was simply a situation of misplaced and unspoken feelings and thoughts. In truth, John and Y/N were inevitable. The two were bound to one another in the name of love that ran very, very deep.

Y/N let their hand slip into his own, fingers interlocking. It was then that they let themself fall into his embrace. John was simply too much comfort for them to pull away. "You know how to say sorry a lot, you know."

#john stones #john stones imagines #john stones imagine #john stones fluff #john stones fanfic #john stones blurbs #john stones oneshots #john stones x gn!reader #john stones x reader #football imagines #football imagine #football oneshots #football fluff #black!reader #asks #john stones x black!reader

[football-rambles]

Someone send me some requests? I wanna get back into writing.

#football imagines #football one shots #football imagine #football one shot #football oneshots #mason mount #declan rice #football fanfiction #jack grealish #luke shaw #ben chilwell #england nt #john stones #aaron ramsey

[dyysania]

before i fall asleep - john constantine - oneshot

synopsis: it’s the day constantine had been ‘given treatment’ from satan himself. constantine can be very toxic, especially when you’re his lover. but, even though he doesn’t say it often at all, he loves you. he really does.

————————— .𖦹 ⋆｡

the day his case was done, his lungs became clear. his wrists were no longer slit, and physical health-wise, he was generally so much healthier than he was before. mental-health wise, not so much. like he always has been. since he was a child.

being his girl was never easy, no, not at all. but you loved him more than anything else you knew. and he loved you, although he never said it.

“john…” he turned to face you. you’d caught him finally picking up his pack of cigarettes again.

“don’t.” he scoffs at your warning.

“baby, i’ll be fine.”

“no you won’t, john. you got fucking cancer because of them.” you got up and easily snatched the one in his hand and the entire pack, and threw them out the apartment window.

“those were expensive.”

“i don’t care, john. i don’t wanna be close to losing you again.” you said, him barely able to hear it since your head was halfway through the window as it poured. he pursed his lips for a second.

————————— .𖦹 ⋆｡

he still remembers that day. the day fucking satan took stones from his lungs before john nearly ascended. the day the strong smell of sulfur and fresh air hit his lungs properly that time. how he had watched a half-breed fall, and how the sky was dark and rain fell upon him once he got out. he remembers sprinting to your apartment in the pouring rain because it was closer than his, and how his younger driver, had died because he followed him. like anyone would try to. it was always his fault.

and when he inched from your apartment door, he knocked. it was late. around midnight. but john didn’t hesitate. he never did. he was no longer afraid. and so you peeped through the eyehole and instantly pulled him by his tie inside.

“why are you so late, and why didn’t you get chas to drive you home?” you sighed as you closed the door behind him. he gulped, making his adam’s apple bob slightly.

“can i tell you this once i get washed and changed?” you pursed your lips, knowing he was soaked and you didn’t want him to spread the water across your floors. you hugged his waist from behind, because if you tried to hug him from his shoulders, you’d need to be way taller.

“of course.” you responded with your cheek flat against his back, walking to stand in front of him and stand on your tiptoes, as he leaned down slightly to kiss you softly. he quickly pulled away and walked to the bathroom, leaving you stood there with your head turned to face him. you sighed and gulped as you heard him undress, and you turned most of the lights on so you could make yourself tea, and you sat in bed shakily in the cold waiting for him.

————————— .𖦹 ⋆｡

“you know i love you.” you mumbled as you closed the window shut and went up to your cold lover who sat manspread. your wrists rested on his shoulders, as your chin did on his head. he brought his hand up to make contact with your hand, and his fingertips to wrist were icy. your muscles tensed lightly. but he still had his poker face on.

“come here, baby.” you had the slightest smile on your face. you knew he could never tell you he loved you too, because his toxic masculinity had fueled him. for years. he knew if he told you he loved you, you’d think he was soft. but he had always given you tender love, especially late at night as he watched you asleep, covered in soft blankets he’d get for you because he knows you like sleeping in his shirt, and his shirt only. it’d get his poor girl cold, although his shirts were always huge on you.

and so you straddled him in his warm lap as he buried your face in kisses, with his hands placed on both sides of your hips. afterwards, he just thought in the pure, deafening silence. like he always did. out of tiredness, your head fell into the crook of his neck as you softly smiled, burrowing yourself there. except this time, he’d whispered something to you. just loud enough so his voice would crack through his chapped lips.

“…i love you too.” tears fell from your usual late-night, puffy eyes. but you didn’t make a sound. neither did john as only a few tears fled from his eyes.

“i’m…sorry i don’t tell you it.” his voice ached. for once, john constantine had found it hard for himself to form and speak words.

“but i do…i really, really do. this once, i - i’ll tell you, i think…i think you’re the love of my life. and i love you, i love you, i love you.” your hands reached for the back of his head, the rest of your arms beneath his underarms. the words he had said rang in your head, in his voice. in the voice of the soul, you both believed, satan had waited for to rise to earth and take for himself.

“you need rest,” john had whispered to you, picking you up bridal-style easily and softly letting you down on the bed.

“not more than you do.” you pulled him in by his shirt, but you weren’t strong enough to pull him into the bed. he scoffed lightly at your attempt.

“fine, move over.” you smiled and felt your trail of tears on your soft skin begin to dry. he climbed beside you into the bed, turning the bedroom light off. you rolled into his chest, where you fell asleep most of the time. his hands caressed the back of your head until he thought you were asleep.

“i love you.” he smiled, for the first time, since a long one.

every night after on, you made sure to keep yourself awake for a few minutes when he thought you were asleep, and it turns out, maybe he does tell you he loves you quite often.

#boo’s thing #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #john constantine #john constantine 2005 #john constantine x reader #john constantine fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

[johnslittlespoon]

no i'm actually going fucking insane over my last post. i was just trying to get some dates accurate for a oneshot and now i'm spiralling so hard. WHAT DO YOU MEANNNN. WHAT DO YOU MEAN ALL OUR JOKES ARE REAL LMFAO.

i have never seen something more parallel to mota john's portrayal i am LAUGHING. not only the "buck, can i climb up into your bunk to keep warm?" but the fact that they were in such a nightmarish situation and he seemingly somehow freaked himself out about other 'strange things' going on in camp?

like what? ghosts? can you imagine john waking gale up in the middle of the night wide eyed swearing up and down he saw a creepy figure float past the window? almost jumping into gale's skin when gale finally relents and lets him into his bunk just to get him to shut up and stop spinning out about it?

also gale parroting john's words back at him lmfaoo it's their favourite thing to do to call back to old quotes, hey? "this is it" at the beginning of episode one and at the end of episode nine, "stone in my shoe", "don't count on it", etc etc. ugh they have my whole heart.

#it's 4am and i just meant to draft up a oneshot #and now i'm literally losing my mind i feel like a head case #i need to scream about this idek what to do #holds this information gently in my hands????? #buck x bucky #buckbucky #johnslittlespoon brainrot

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Sweet confections

Oneshot Summary; Price brought the pastries to 141 as you asked him to, who could’ve thought sweet confections would spur the thoughts of sweet confessions?

Pairing: John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot 

Word; 4k

Warnings; relationship-angst, fluff, implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: This was originally 2k🙃 Buuuut, I got carried away with delving into Price after seeing a post theorising about his previous dating life and just couldn’t help myself but write a snippet of the morning after their liquor-tasting date when sunshine!reader asked him to bring pastries to the 141 squad from Price's perspective.

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

On your first date, you'd brought him to 'the little coffee shop on the corner' you so endearingly called it. It wasn't as much a coffee shop as a bakery, Price remarked then. He even mentioned it the second time you'd come here to buy some bread together for dinner at your place. The third time, he'd shaken his head as he drove and spoke with you over the car's built-in phone, 'I've been working in the little coffee shop on the corner, I can wait for you here and we can go together to mine'.

Most of the space belonged to the bakery, stone ovens and counters to assemble the pastries. The rest was a quaint sitting area, with soft couch-looking seats compared to wooden-legged chairs and tables. Indeed, it was charming, gentle in a sense, concerning the neutral colour schema and warm bakery air.

Now Price stood in the same space smelling like newly baked bread and confectionery. It was early, before seven. Hence, the ovens were on full blast, loaded with loaves of bread and danishes. On the baking counter, cold sweets awaited completion, his presence suspending the process.

"Is that all?" Price's eyes focus on the cashier. According to you, she's the owner. She opened the place a few years ago to keep working with her passion after the official year of retirement, at her own pace and with her own ideas to fulfil a childhood dream.

His eyes fall on the things before her.

The usual for him and the rest of 141 on days likes these, coffees to everyone's taste and something to chew on. None favouring breakfast served on base since Price had brought something from his local place. He could scoff that a single prompted decision turned to habit on days like these when they would gather for meetings ahead of missions.

Usually, he would say yes. But this time, Price's eyes flickered to the right. 'Bring them something sweet in my name', your voice echoed from just 30 minutes earlier.

"I'll take some of those", he nods towards the colourful pastries behind the viewing glass.

"Any particular?" The woman asked. His eyes glide over the confections, some seemingly with a base of berries or other fruits, some with chocolate.

Price isn't too fond of sweets. Consequently, neither invested in what's good or not. Thankfully, he recalls which ones you'd pointed out as your favourites. 'Always taste the new ones when they come', you said when you'd visited the place together. Even if that hadn't been the case, Price would've trusted your tastebuds over his.

"Hm, I'll take two of each", he pointed to three different sweets, not attempting to pronounce their name even though in English. What he knew, or rather remembered, was your description of them. The pink one had a base of pomegranate with some curd, sweet but refreshing. The orange one contained peaches and syrupy cream, honeyed but with a delicate fruitiness. The tan one was some brownie fusion, if you ever want to taste diabetes. He'd chuckled when you explained the taste differences.

"Buying them for your girl?" Price's eyes jumps to the woman, who barely spared him more than an amused look between picking the pastries he'd directed her towards and packing them into small cardboard boxes.

"What?"

"Did your girl make you sleep on the couch after some argument? That's why you're trying to win her over with this?" She nodded to the first box of sweets she placed amongst his order.

You, she was talking about you. Price dipped his head, shaking it with a slight chuckle.

He wasn't startled, per se, that the women recognised him. He'd been here a handful of times in the last few weeks.

If it would've happened in the regular place he usually stops by on the way from his home, he wouldn't have even reacted. It was local, small, an everyone-knew-everyone case sooner rather than later. Although quaint for a city with its cosy inside, this place was still strategically placed on a corner between the juncture of two streets. And that's why Price isn't surprised the woman recognised him but tied him to you in the way she had.

"No, ordered me to bring some to my mates". He knew the woman had scanned him today, taken in his hard-to-misplace attire. Where there earlier only been a question mark, he'd now been placed in the box reading soldier within seconds of turning to face him from where she stood further inside the bakery after having called 'one minute' over her shoulder.

"Smart women, know you boys probably deserve it". She commented in passing, bending down to pack up the second sweet. Price hummed in return. "Hopefully, they'll like them, though I don't second her taste", the woman chuckled more to herself even though Price listened.

From how the woman dearly greeted you by name each time and a short conversation if it wasn't too hectic, he'd quickly gathered you were a regular here, your knowledge for someone who tasted but didn't bake the confectionaries giving it away as well.

"That'll be all?" She repeated the question from earlier when finally boxing up the last pastry. The three boxes were now effectively tied together and pushed together with the rest of his order.

"It'll be all", Price returned, reflecting the woman's smile as he reached to pay.

"Tell her I said hi and that I've got something new on the way for her to look forward to". He raised his elbow in an attempted wave, nodding a goodbye as he exited the bakery.

Not until Price stood at the curbside, a tray of coffees, one letter scribbled in neat handwriting on each cartoon cup, and two rather than one takeaway boxes of something to chew on did he realise he hadn't corrected the women once.

Your girl.

Price looked back inside through the windows lining the wall of the bakery. He couldn't see the women, probably already set off to complete the morning routine he'd interrupted.

Did she take it for granted that you bringing him here meant he was something more than just a date, someone you casually met? Because this wasn't neutral ground but a special place to you?

He faced his car, looking at his reflection.

His girl.

Price huffed, shaking his head and opened his car, placing what he'd bought in the passenger seat. He could only speculate why the woman had assumed you were a couple. But he knew why he hadn't corrected her, why he barely even had cringed at the notion of someone calling you his.

...

When arriving at the base, Price wasted no more time than to gather the mission files he'd had delivered to his office before heading to the scheduled meeting room.

When he pushes the handle down with his elbow, the door to the meeting room swinging open, he finds the rest of 141 inside. With his added appearance, whatever conversation they had halted.

"Morning, Captain", Gaz greets him, to which he nods his silent hello, clearing his hands by placing the things from the bakery on the table they sat around.

"Help yourselves to your usual", Price gestured to the things he'd brought. "And a mission file", he continued as he put down the folders he'd kept beneath his arm when not juggling the other things around.

His men reached forth, each taking the coffee cup with their initials along a sandwich wrapped in plastic foil. At first, their eyes were only swiftly shifted to the added boxes with intrigue until Soap dared to unwrap them, catching a look at what was inside.

"The place from yours gotten sweets now as well, Price?" The Scot looked over with a cocked brown, opening the rest of the boxes without taking more than a swift look down. Of course, Soap would be the one to inspect the boxes standing out from the team's usual orders.

"No, stopped at one in the city". Price shrugged, reaching for his cup of coffee but waiting with his sandwich. He would eat it, knowing you would give him a disapproving look if he didn't, though only later, when the coffee kicked in and made him hungry. The first visit back at base after a leave always does wonders of curbing his appetite.

As the black bitterness of coffee bit his tastebuds, he eyes Gaz as he lean forward, inspecting the boxes Soap opened and picked a pink pastry from. As his sergeant's eyes fell to the contents of the packages, he found the variety the Scot inspected seconds earlier.

"Why the hell the detour?" Gaze's eyes met Price, who took another drink of his coffee before he answered.

"No detour. I was in the city already".

Soap, who'd tasted the sweet he'd picked out and whose eyes rolled, accompanied by a content hum, leaned back in his chair as his attention travelled to Price. "What-", he began, eyes widening a wee bit as they locked with Price's. He doesn't know what the Scot saw, but whatever it was, it stopped his sentence abruptly with a rise of brows, a straightening of his back and a curl of his mouth's edge. "It's the lass, ain't it?"

Price didn't know why he stalled, why the takeaway cup halted in mid-air, why he didn't just say yes. 

It wasn't that his men didn't know. It was impossible for them not to. They'd been there the night he met you at the bar. They, or Gaz and Soap, having encouraged him to talk to you when he'd hesitated because why would you be interested in him. Ghost hadn't said anything on the matter, but Price bet he found entertainment in how the Seargents' jabbed at their Captain at something so trivial. And much like pushing his first step, their reaction to seeing the two of you leave together followed the same characteristics.

So no, it would be hard for them not to know about you. And there went one of the reasons Price would hesitate to answer.

"S'pose it can't be anyone else", Price relented. The biggest reason he wouldn't indulge the rest of the fact a dispensed reasoning of keeping you hidden meant safety.

It made Gaz whistle, leaning back with one of the orangey sweets in his hand. Soap drummed his hands against his thighs after inhaling the rest of his small pastry. Ghost shifted in his seat, head cocking, eyes sweeping to inspect the confections the other two men had indulged in fleetingly before his attention returned to Price.

"How's it goin' then? Asked the lass out since last we saw the two of ya disappear in the sunset?" Soap asked, his question prodding for two answers rather than one. But rather than levelling the Scot with a look, something that silently would confirm his suspicions of what happened the night Price drove you home, he leaned back in his chair with a tip of his head.

"We've talked some, met a few times as well". Price took a sip of his coffee as if it would do anything else than exacerbate his nerves upon you being the subject of conversation and the memory you'd more than just talked after some of your dates. "Got those from one of the places we went, some of her favourites".

"Old romantic, you are, Cap". Gaz's comment made Price clear his throat. It was followed by a 'yeah, yeah' muttered under his breath almost bashfully.

"Well, I'd say the lass is rubbin' of good on ya", Soap steered the conversation in his ever-present direction of jest on topics like this. "Ain't all time our dear Captain spoils us with such sudden acts of kindness", the Scot reached forth, picking one of the chocolaty treats this time with a smug look and a glint in his eyes towards Price.

He can't help but roll his eyes at the jab. "It's her spoilin' you, not me. Ordered me to buy some for you lot as a greeting".

That made Soap's signature grin form. "The lass orderin' you around already, Price?"

"The real question is why he's accepting it. He doesn't like us bossing him around and barely any higher-ups as well", Gaz stated, lightly elbowing the Scot at his side with a chuckle, the latter joining in agreement.

"Did the request come this morning?" Ghost pulls his attention away from his snickering Seargents.

With his eyes settled on the man who'd been quiet until this moment, Price knew his Lieutenant didn't ask the question because he needed the answer, only the confirmation. If anything was Ghost's forte, it was gathering the scattered pieces of information dropped throughout the chat, what’s between the lines, enough to build a picture of what went on behind the scenes.

Price clocked that for the veteran, who'd nursed his coffee with sparing sips and lifts of his mask, there'd been enough details throughout the conversation for him to flesh out the parts left untold. The knowing look reflected in Ghost's dark eyes exposing it as well.

"We went out yesterday, stayed the night", Price brushed off. Knowing Ghost, he'd say there's a smile hidden beneath the mask, equally as smug as those visible and directed at him from the other two men.

"Starting to think you don't want to indulge us, Cap", Gaz pointed out. "It seems to be going very well between you two".

"Aye, Price, when will we meet ya lass again?" At Soap's question, the morning flashed before Price's eyes.

He'd woken up before you. No need for an alarm that Price was scared would wake you up in the process and he would hurry to shut off. The military had since long engrained the early hours in the back of his mind.

He'd woken with a blink of his eyes rather than a slow descent from slumber, immediately noting that during the night, the two of you had shifted to something more comfortable for sleeping than the previous cuddling. Your back was towards him, a little gap between you. Even so, his arm draped over your waist, and your warmth reached his front angled towards you.

Price had dragged his hand lightly down to your hip, feeling the skin beneath the oversized shirt you'd gone to sleep with, but his hand managed to sneak beneath nonetheless. When his palm settled on the curve of your hip, your skimpy panties beneath his skin, he'd pushed up on his elbow.

His eyes had travelled over your face, or what could be seen of it as your arm partly covered it, checking if you were awake even though your breathing already suggested you weren't. Noting your stillness, Price made his way out of bed slow to not stir you.

Dressing into his jeans and shirt felt wrong as he watched you continue to sleep soundly. He wanted to stay for a few more moments, press close to your back, bury his head in your nape, and linger in the moment. But he knew his willpower to go to base and hold the meeting he was supposed to would wain if witnessing you slowly coming to in his arms.

Price had debated how to leave your flat and fetch the things in his car without getting locked outside. He just brought your keys with him in the end, deciding against leaving the door ajar behind him, concerned for your safety despite the second gate out to the street.

He didn't meet anyone as he went down to his car and up again, allowing Price to wallow in the lingering warmth of your body close to his as he pulled his jacket tight around him in solace. Despite being summer, it wasn't warm in the mornings, crisp and slightly chilly until the rays peeks over the edges of roofs.

A feeling that hadn't been present in a long time, not a genuine one, at least, settled in his bones as he walked through your home with his bag slung over his shoulder. Domestic, his thoughts supplied a label to the feelings growing in his bones, muscles and every fleshly part of him as he slowed his pace past your bedroom, the door open enough that he spotted your sleeping figure beneath the covers.

It lingered as Price had taken a shower, using the towel hanging beneath yours on the rack when done. He'd stopped asking what towel to use just a week before, as a second joined your smaller one near the sink and one by your body towel.

He'd felt something warm enter him when he first noticed the newly added additions, even more so when he'd asked about it to be entirely sure and your head had popped into the opening. Explaining almost shyly you thought he should have his own from how often he's been staying overnight, and so he doesn't need to ask every time.

And since then, Price had become used to moving around your apartment without you by his side. Something about you giving him permanent things at your place erased that 'stranger' feeling one had before getting comfortable in someone else's space.

That's why, when he'd crouched by the side of your bed this morning, dressed in clothes portraying such a different reality to what he felt like this fever-induced daydream was, Price couldn't wait for you to prove that this wasn't just a morbid fantasy created under the influence of morphine taken to ease the pain of a nasty wound, one he was too incoherent to remember.

You'd shown him a part of yourself, your most intimate space, your home, to him, making him comfortable here. He could relax when stepping over your threshold. Knowing he stepped into your world. And yet, everything feels tied to you, not him. That's why he invited you over to his place, wanting not only to see your reaction to stepping into his world but seeing you in his home would settle the anxiety gnawing at his bones. Or so he hoped.

Price felt his fingers, which rested on his thigh, twitch. He wanted to reach for the phone in his pocket and settle the plans for the weekend that were coming with a quick text, even though it was only Monday.

He sighed at himself, remembering correcting the faulty phrase concerning you and his relationship, even though it came from someone much closer and who knew more about his relation to you. "She ain't my girl".

"Why? The two of ya already act like a pair, it seems". Price's eyes flickered to the pastries' Soap motion to, or more so, the significance behind them.

"They've known each other for a month, Johnny". Ghost's comment eases his nerves.

Yes, he'd gotten to know you well over a month. Outside 141 and his nearest circle within work, you were the one he felt the closest to. He'd caught himself entertaining the idea, not only upon talking with the lady at the bakery and now with the men surrounding him, but this morning when he'd walked around in the silence of your flat. He didn't dislike the idea of enjoying his or someone's space together with the other. But it was the first time he liked someone enough to tie into that future.

You brought so much for Price to look forward to, but most of all, you were the embodiment of comfort. Just your presence was enough for him to relax, let his shoulders drop and the tension in his neck ease. That's why it felt right spending time with you, why Price didn't think even a second about how much time you'd spent together despite meeting a month ago.

And yet, today, this morning, made him hesitant to go too fast forward, to let the previous night and this morning make him let go of all reins and fall headfirst into whatever this was.

Today this life, the one his occupation as a Captain of a task force entailed, merged just slightly with the reality he'd created with you on his leave.

You knew he was military, SAS, but neither of you mentioned his work, the topic not easily slid into, despite that you'd explained your job in more detail. It would've been more than right of him to do so in return, but explaining and talking about his profession was one of few included in general parentheses.

There was only so much he could clarify about the field he operated in. And legally, he couldn't disclose much about the task force either. If you hadn't known they were military the night you met and he hadn't gotten to know you'd dabbled in his field of work, he probably wouldn't have mentioned many of the things he had. He didn't keep it a secret, not the basics, but neither was Price one to bring it up in conversations.

Still, you stayed. After everything told and not, you were still here. You wanted him, or so Price assumed since the first night you'd met.

He assumed it wasn't simply feigned interest you'd shown when you'd concerned yourself of what haunted his mind when on leave. He assumed, that when he'd seen the gears turn in your head of how you could voice your questions without overstepping, it was from the sincere concern of doing so, not a forced attempt at seeming friendly. He assumed, that when you so sweetly looked at him only to say in that purred voice that you wanted to help him relax, it didn't only mean for the night.

Otherwise, you wouldn't have entertained him for this long. Yet again, that was what he thought. However, what Price knew what that he needed to give you something to work with. You couldn't support him without him relenting something about himself, this side of him.

He didn't blame his previous partners for his fleeting relationships. Not entirely. He'd remained strict with letting too much spill too early, knowing how some may react, how they try to pull away gracefully. Somehow it was a test, an unintentional one but a test nonetheless. And the answer didn't come until after his first deployment, when he found out how his supposed partner reacted to his previous emotional distance and later physical disappearance. A test of boundaries, one could call it.

And concerning it was only a few weeks more until his first one with you, he thought about it. A lot.

Price shook his head. He blinked, eyes refocusing, noticing his gaze had gotten stuck to the pastries on the table. As his eyes flickered up, he found that Soap and Ghost still exchanged arguments.

"Shouldn't stop him from askin' the lass if it feels right", the Scot said, arms now crossed over his chest, his shoulders resting against the backrest of his chair, spine curved.

"Can't rush", was all the masked Brit responded with, along with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Enough of his. Let's get on with the meetin'", Price interrupted, effectively ending the conversation. None of the others argued, noticing it was their Captain rather than Price commanding them to drop the subject as he opened the mission file before him.

Nevertheless, as they started the meeting, Price couldn't help that Soap's and Ghost's arguments replayed in the silence. Neither how you entered his mind when listening to the others discuss the details of the OP. It never overtook his attention, but it lingered in the back of his mind, gnawing away at the nerves in his inner skull.

After this mission, Price thought, he'll see how you've held up and maybe have a conversation with you.

He didn't like making promises he wasn't sure could be kept. But, this one, that he would come back to speak with you about it, he would go above and beyond to keep. Because it felt different this time, he longed coming back to you before even shipping off.

#john price #captain johnathan price #captain price #price cod #captain price x reader #captain price x you #john price x reader #captain John price #captain John price x reader #John price codmw2 #John price fluff #John price angst #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 #John price fanfic #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #sunshine universe

[prokopetz]

I would like to access your ttrpg knowledge. Do you know of a system where the players can freely swap between a collection of characters? I'm looking to run a Monty Python and the holy grail one-shot, so I want the players to be able to move between whichever knights are relevant at the time (and make gameplay continue smoothly as they die off). This can either be from each player having a set squad, or by having a "shared inventory" that each player pulls from as needed. Bonus points if it's easy enough for inebriated players to get a hold of.

There have been a number of published games that use the variant of troupe play that you're describing (i.e., a fixed pool of player characters, but no particular player character is associated with any particular player); the now out-of-print Marvel Heroic Roleplaying springs to mind, in which play consists of a series of set-piece scenes with pre-defined rosters of heroes, and each player chooses which hero to play on a scene-by-scene basis; e.g., you might start out playing as Spider-Man, then when a hero you like better enters play, you switch to playing as them instead, while Spider-Man is either taken up by another player, or else becomes an NPC.

However, I feel like for your particular purpose, that would be barking up the wrong tree. Certainly, for ongoing troupe play, this sort of formal spotlight management is practically mandatory. For a one-shot game, though, it's a lot of game-mechanical overhead for very little benefit, because the spotlighting issues that it's designed to address simply won't have time to develop. Plus, it's not a great idea to introduce novel scene-framing practices to slightly drunk players – that's the sort of thing you really want to be learning stone sober!

My recommendation for a drunk-friendly troupe play oneshot is to go with something light, ideally with descriptive traits so you don't need to know the mechanics to understand what the character you've just been handed is good at, bring a dozen or so pre-generated knights, and let the (ideally sober) GM manage the spotlight on an ad hoc basis. To that end, have you considered S John Ross's Risus? Character sheets basically read like TV Tropes articles, and it's well-suited to Arthurian parody in the Welsh tradition (i.e., the kind where each knight has weird and faintly impractical supernatural powers), which feels like a good way of meshing that Monty Python and the Holy Grail spirit with more conventional tabletop expectations.

(I can also speak from experience when I say that it's feasible to play while completely hammered.)

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #tabletop rpg recommendations #risus #violence mention #death mention #alcohol mention

[ladymarycrawley]

Together - John Stones

Request: Can I ask for a John Stones one please. Where it’s based off tonight’s match where he hurts his hamstring and you are his girlfriend or wife and one of the physios that come on to pitch to help him please

Warning: none, I just changed it a bit so Y/N doesn't work as a physio as I already wrote something along that line, hope you still like it anon 💖

Tag list: @masonxomount @chelsealover @stonesyy

No. Not again. He didn't deserve to go through all that again. The last injury was still too fresh in your memories, as all the recovery process, it couldn't happen again. Not that soon.

Your mind started spiralling as your eyes were following all that was happening on the pitch: John lying on the floor, physical and mental pain painted on his face as the medical staff was there around him to check the extent of injury. 

Your vision became blurry with tears, your fingers shaking against your cheeks. All sort of thoughts crossed your mind: you hoped it was nothing serious, as he left the playing ground on his legs but then you feared that detail meant nothing as it could still be something threatening for his condition and his career. 

Fear soon turned into anxiety, as your racing heart denoted. The feeling of fear wrapping your eyes projected itself on John's inconsolable walking frame, headed to the changing rooms. As soon as he disappeared from your sight you got up to leave your comfortable seat in the box to go after him.

"How can I help you, Mrs Stones?" A security guard asked you, seeing you wandering desperately near where the players' changing rooms were.

"I need to see John"

"He's under medical check now. You'll have to wait for him to come out"

"No, I need to see him now" You sounded rather desperate and you were practically begging to see him. In a mkment of lucidity you would have been embarrassed by your own attitude but you couldn't care less that time.

"I'm sorry but no one can enter the medical room"

You huffed, leaning against the cold wall behind you. It felt a little less cold when you tilted your head back against it, your hair absorbing that nagging feeling. Your eyes were now focused on the roof above you, in the attempt not to burst out into a sad crying. 

The noise of the room door opening soon filled your ears and brought your sight back on it.

John came out after one of the doctors, his head bowed, eyes on the ground.

"John…" Your voice calling his name was inaudible, something similar to a whisper.

He lifted his eyes to meet you. The veil of sadness you were met with caused your heart to beat faster, you feared it might have blasted out any moment.

When the doctors were done massaging him and telling him what he should have done, you got closer to him, engulfing his taller figure in your embrace. John relaxed in the warmth of your body, releasing a breath he didn't know he had been keeping for too long. His perfect face was hidden in the crook of your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin.

Your eyes were closed as your right hand was massaging his scalp and your lips were glued to his shoulder.

"Is it your hamstring?" You quietly asked him. He nodded, standing upright away from your shorter body.

"Again" He breathed out, his lips compressed.

You knew he was angry but also worried because he didn't want to watch City from the bench and, worse, he didn't want to miss the World Cup. 

"Hey, look at me" You stretched your hand out to grab his chin so he could look directly into your eyes.

"You'll be alright, as you always did. You're the strongest person I know"

He sniffled, his eyes glossy with tears. You couldn't stand seeing him like that. You just wanted to protect him from all the bad that could ever happen to him. You'd give him everything to see him smile, you wished you could have been injured instead of him.

"Don't cry, baby" Your left hand gently caressed his shaven cheek, your thumb brushing his cheekbone.

When you got home, the atmosphere was the most silent you ever witnessed since living with him. John didn't feel like talking,  he just wanted to go to bed and get some sleep, hopefully. 

"I'll be up in a minute"

He nodded and left you in the dimly lit kitchen preparing his hot tea that would always succeed in relaxing him.

The sight you were welcomed with once upstairs tightened your heart: your boyfriend was curled up in a fetal position, lights out and a deafening silence.

A sigh left your lips as you placed his steaming mug on his night table.

You crawled on the bed reaching your spot behind him. As much as you loved being the little spoon, you knew at that moment you needed to be the stronger one so you wrapped your arms around his middle, leaving a kiss behind his ear.

"I know you don't want to talk but I want you to know that I love you, so much" Another kiss was left by your lips against his clothed shoulder. "You always make me proud. Always"

After a brief pause, you picked up your little motivational speech.

"We'll face it as we did the last time and as we'll always do, together"

John's hand gently squeezed yours, his thumb moving in a soothing way over your skin.

"Thanks"

"You don't have to thank me"

"Can I have a kiss?"

"You know you can have all the kisses you want" You whispered with a shy smile, before kissing his soft lips.

Those were the last words you exchanged as he silently fell asleep cradled in your arms, the best place he could possibly be.

#john stones #john stones x reader #john stones x y/n #john stones fluff #john stones angst #john stones fics #john stones imagines #john stones oneshots #mcfc #manchester city imagines #manchester city fics #england nt #england nt imagines #england nt fics #football imagines #football fics #football writing

[conjectureand-gloom]

had the first of four government standardised tests today, and i had to write a story in 40 minutes

i fucking wrote a fanfiction. like a full on oneshot. for a government test.

AND THEN I TRIED TO COPY PASTE IT FROM THE SERVER WE WERE USING FOR THE TEST AND IT DIDNT LET ME WHICH IS REALLY SAD BC I WANTED TO POST IT I WAS SO PROUD OF IT IT WAS REALLY ANGSTYYYY

okay so basically. alex and “ben” (john) went to check the surroundings of their camp, then “ben” saw the “purple-coats” (redcoats) (i’m so subtle aren’t i.) but then they were knocked out by the “purple-coats” (cough cough VIEW MY FIC STAY ALIVE FOR THAT EXACT TACTIC OF THE REDCOATS KNOCKING ALEXANDER OUT WITH A STONE)

okay so then alex and “ben” wake up in the “purple-coats’” camp but they were on other sides of a window (the prompt was ‘window’ for the narrative btw) and then basically “arnold” (i renamed him general harrison. yes after the aide harrison i’m sorry harrison ily) and tortured alex and “ben” was forced to watch on the other side of the window so he just helplessly sat there as alex was being tortured

so i just submitted a gay fanfiction with a full on torture scene. to the government education department.

[michixoxo]

hello i just wanted to request a one-shot! i love your writing haha

anyways could you write a oneshot based on the reader (female) (who’s dating arlo-secretly or publicly idk) having to fight john during the joker arc and arlo gets involved and the aftermath of the fight? like if the reader is hospitalised! kind of like when joker and remi fought. thanks sm if you can!

ofc! thank you anon, im just glad i have people to write for <3

word count: 1.1K

a fucking jungle. that's the only way you can describe this hell hole. as if high school wasn't bad enough, with joker running around, it's become an anxious mess of trembling cowards and fools. though, as much as you'd like to blame the rest of the student body for how things are going down, you can't shake the feeling like you're all to blame. too self-absorbed, too violent, too cruel, to notice nor care about those below us. with a strained laugh, you figure you're the same. too vain.

but instead of degrading yourself any longer, you walk down the empty hallway, wondering whether it'd be better to text arlo for his location than search for him. though, whenever you both would plan to meet up, it would always catch some prying eyes, ruining the whole secret relationship part of your secret relationship. you reach for your phone in your back pocket, still looking forward. he's been really stressed lately, for good reason, maybe you should take him out for dinn—? huh? that's weird. you don't feel your phone in your pocket. you hum as you turn your neck back and—

—collide with someone's white-knuckled fist. you barely have time to process whats going on as you fall down, red already beginning to drip down and out of your nose onto the pristine white floor. who the hell?! who would dare—?! a knee connects with your head, forbidding any coherent thoughts.

"you're boyfriend's fucking useless, and so are you.", you're not you when you're hungry, and you can't help but think, as you look at that infamous ski mask through blood laced eyes, that mister joker could really benefit from a snickers. you power up, the glow in your eyes as dim and pessimistic as your chances in this fight. yet, you stand, though the reddened ground almost seems to drag you with it. you stand, though you wish to sleep and never wake again. you stand, because a certain blond doesn't like cowards and damn it all to hell if you aren't gonna try for him.

despite this, a pig's resolve is never thought of by the farmer. try as you might, but as you hear the crack of your spine under his foot, you realize there's not a world in which a mere spade could trump this joker. you fall, face first on the ground. you watch, as the black of his shoes comes into view. surly, he won't kick you while you're— fuck! okay, maybe he will. and he does so multiple times to where it's almost funny. you make a cruel beat with the rhythm of his kicks and the sound of your groans. a symphony never realized, for a forceful punch knocks joker off his beat.

"HAVE YOU NOT HAD ENOUGH?!", you barely open your eyes, blood soaked, making it hard to see. though, you'd recognize that pristine blond hair anywhere. "SHE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO YOU! HOW VIOLENT— HOW CRUEL ARE YOU?!", the source of all our problems: violence, cruelty. but, he's right, you didn't do anything. didn't do anything when you saw the lower tiers brought to their knees. didn't do anything when you saw the manic grins of the higher tiers, getting off from their pain. you held no hand in it, but maybe to joker, your eyes hold the same guilt.

judge, jury, and executioner, he lands a solid punch to arlo's face. not like it did much, his skin feels closer to stone than flesh. still, the slightly muffled, impossibly vengeful voice reaches your ears, "you didn't stop sera from being kidnapped, but you have the balls to prevent your fucking whore from getting what she deserves? your priorities seem to be fucked up, your majesty." you try to laugh, but only blood sputters out. darkness overtakes you, violent and cruel.

...

"its all my fault.", you never took arlo as the self depricating kind, but you can understand the sentiment as you lie in hospital gowns and wheeze with every breath. "no, it's not, he was gonna go after me anyways. the whole destroy the hierarchy thing he's going on about and all...fuck, how could we not know there was someone this strong in Wellston?", you cough, "and apparently bloodthirsty."

you raise an eyebrow as he looks away, a certain expression gracing his face, one you've never seen. it almost looks like... shame? no, no, arlo? ashamed? did joker give you brain damage or something-? no way. no. way.

"you good?", his attention returns back to you. he holds your gaze before smiling, soft and delicate. an expression you've seen many times before, one reserved only for you. "i should be asking you, you're in the hospital bed after all.", "meh, i'll walk it off." you both allow yourself to giggle, basking in each other's company.

he holds your hand, resting his forehead ever so gently on the back. "i'm sorry. i'm really, really sorry." you grimace, it's not his fault. if anything, joker should be apologizing. he should be here groveling, begging for your forgiveness rather than arlo, the man you want to marry.

you caress his face, lifting your hand to cup his cheek gently, pulling his head up. your heart aches, looking at those glossy blue eyes. he hasn't cried in years, told you as much, and yet here he is, on the brink. and all for you. with your thumb, you rub circles into his cheek.

"i love you, and i'll always be here for you.", you say, imagining that the ache in your heart matches his as he leans into your touch, letting out a breathy chuckle. he sighs, and his breath is warm against your chilled hands.

"besides, a couple kicks isn't gonna kill me. joker will have to try harder to take me out!", you give him a thumbs up, earning a more genuine laugh. "right, he'd have better luck by throwing a book at your head.", you gasp, "hey! i read, probably more than you, you ass!", "hm, you're right,", you cross your arms proud at your— "it'd have to be a calculus book. blunt force combined with your hatred of math? might have to arrange your funeral right now.", "HEY!"

you spend the evening like that, which soon falls into the night. the sun descends down the buildings outside the window, not returning. your sun, similarly grabs a blanket, covering himself with it as he sleeps in a chair at your bedside, holding your hand in his. you glance at him, and squeeze his hand ever so slightly. this is the man you want to marry, and joker better try his damn hardest to take you from him.

#unordinary arlo #unordinary #michixoxo #unordinary oneshot

[flowerpotmage]

mist & rue

It is night in a new world, and you've lost a dear friend.

notes & etc: reader, lee scoresby, and john parry. oneshot. HDM series. canon compliant with events of book 2. ambiguous relationships. angst!! more writer commentary at the end. 584 words. on Ao3 here

It’s unreasonable to have expected your choices to take you down any other path than this. You were always going to find yourself here.

Mist touches your skin, permeating through the relatively thin layers of your clothing and down through to your bones. You’d like to say that the cold air numbs your distress, shocks you enough to calm down and jolt out of it, but… truthfully, it has little effect on why you’re here, crying and swallowing shaky gulps of air with your arms around yourself and a silver turquoise ring in your fist. You don’t notice the osprey dæmon that soars overhead.

The soft sound of familiar footsteps draws another shuddering breath into your lungs, your hand wiping shaky and surreptitiously—you hope—at your cooling tears. You want to greet him, as you normally would, but you know your voice would betray you. Although, if he’s here right now, he already knows, and you’re taking much too long to say anything anyhow, and he’d be an idiot not to know anyway—

He comes to a stop near your shoulder.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says in that smooth, enigmatically charming voice of his. “Sayan saw you, and I thought you might appreciate an ear.”

Your dry chuckle is exceptionally soggy, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself, breathing it out through your lips with closed eyes.

“Jopari,” you greet, looking out at the foreign stars. “It has been an exceptionally trying time. I don’t think I was ready.”

“Ah,” he says, and you can hear the rueful smile in the sound. “I don’t think most of us are.”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “John.”

You’ve come to know him well over these last years. Sayan can journey far, that’s true, but even a shaman with a witches dæmon is reluctant to part too far with their own very self, and shamans and witches alike need unassuming individuals to be their knowing eyes and hands in far off lands. None of you would never have gotten this far otherwise. So you understand immediately.

“You knew Lee would…” your throat closes up on the words.

“I did. I'm sorry.”

The tears come fresh, the heat of the saltwater on your face due to more than mere thermodynamics. It’s as if the anger at the man by your side is finding the only escape it can, through the water of your eyes, leaving room for growing dismay.

“Come back to the camp,” he says, nothing but gentle. “You’ll catch cold and we’ve a ways to go yet.”

You turn away again, looking down at the small furry body of your dæmon by your boot.

“Ah, so I will be continuing on further?” You regret the spiteful comment as soon as it leaves your mouth.

“This is not the world you’ll stop in,” John Parry says, cryptic as ever.

You turn to face him, the stones making their small sounds underfoot. He looks at you, sharp eyes apologetic. “I know you were close with Mr. Scoresby,” he says. “If there had been another way—”

“Then we wouldn’t win, in the end, would we?”

One side of his mouth lifts, once again rueful.

You sigh, and nod. The two of you walk back to your small, humble camp, and John, Jopari, Stanislaus Grumman and all his names, sits with you in silence by the fire. Before you know it, he will be dead, and you will be left behind to tell his son about him.

---------------------------------

i have sooo much fun facts about this reader in my head all of a sudden. in my mind they were a little bit in love with lee (a longtime friend) and john (platonically? romantically? we'll never know about either of these for either fella and neither will they bc theyre kinda messed up about it all!!) and they work with john and the witches towards asriel's big plan to Kill God. yippee!!

#hdm fic #his dark materials fic #john parry x reader #but like not rly #lee scoresby x reader #but like also not rly lol #it's complicated!! #x reader