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twirlywhirlywriting · 7 months

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What Would I Do Without You?

I finally did it!!! This was definitely a challenge for me as a writer. I am mostly used to female submissives so this was a huge change! I hope you all like it, I worked really hard on it! Here you go, my loves, submissive John Murphy!

Title: What Would I Do Without You?

TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+ Minors DNI, Smut, Sub!Murphy x Dom!/Reader, Reader’s POV, Fem Reader, Use of Y/N, Cussing, Soft Dom, Mistress Kink, Obedience, Reassurance, Strip Tease, Kissing, Praise, Fingering, Oral (f receiving), P in V (unprotected), Orgasms, Soft Edging (literally one time), Handjob, Slight Mess, Aftercare, Mentions of Love

The first thing that I need to point out before telling you anything, is that John Murphy is mine. He is the love of my life, he is my best friend, he is my baby. He’s my submissive, my fuck toy, my good boy, just mine. I know that when you look at us, we seem like any other “power couple” who are really just giant assholes who don’t care about anyone else but each other. But really, he’s just trying to give the people what they want, and well, I can’t help myself from being protective of him and his feelings.

The only reason he is being so forceful in making everyone take off those stupid wristbands is because no one wants the fuckers who put us down here to follow us. We don’t deserve to be prisoners. We are lucky none of us are 18, otherwise we’d all be dead anyways. But they put us on this dropship without our permission. They are the ones who didn’t know if they were killing us or not. And now we have the entire Earth to ourselves. The last thing that any of us want is for those stupid assholes to follow us down and take control again, or worse, call us criminals again. We deserve this whole goddamn Earth to ourselves, we were the ones who were going to die for it if it turned out to be uninhabitable anyway.

Most people understand this and are happy to take off the damn wristband-tracker-whatever the fuck they are. If everyone on the Ark thinks we died, they won’t follow us and we will finally be free. But Clarke and her stupid boy toy followers are making things way harder than they need to be. They’re being dicks to John, my John. I can’t stand it.

“Stop it, Murphy! Everyone, you have to stop taking those off, the Ark has to know we’re alive!” Clarke screams at John over the fire. Maybe he is being a little bit intense, not letting anyone get dinner until they allow him to remove the wristband. But it’s for their own good! How can that bitch not see that?

“No one wants the Ark to know we’re alive, Clarke. We want to be free. We deserve to be free.” He retorts, then turns to everyone, “Do you want to be the Ark's prisoners again? For doing nothing? For saving their asses and getting nothing in return?” He yells, and everyone around boos at Clarke; she and Wells look like they’re about to pop their top.

She grabs a piece of meat anyways and starts eating, then glares at him. “No rules, right? Screw you, Murphy.” His eyes look like he’s ready to kill her, but I know that look. When he looks murderous, he’s really just sad, or scared, or something. Maybe angry too, maybe a bit murderous, but mostly sad. And that makes me fume.

I hand my food to John and stand up. Yanking the food back from Clarke, I step right up to her and get in her face. “You know you can’t do that shit. Chaos is good, but you’re just being fucking stupid. He’s helping people, whether you realize it or not. You, Wells, and Finn can all just go on your merry fucking way and find your own food. We’ll get your wristbands later.” She looks like she’s about to throw a punch, but Finn stops her and pulls her away. I’m still fuming, who does she think she is? Finn is right, she is a fucking princess. Wells and Clarke think they get to decide all the rules just because his Daddy and her Mommy are in charge up there. Well, they’re fucking wrong.

As I sit back down, John gives me back my food. We are both still so pissed off at the whole situation, and not just because of right now. Clarke and those stupid boys are always getting in John’s way. They truly think they can lead us! While I sit here thinking about how fucked up it is, John grabs my hand and brings it up to his lips, planting the softest kiss. I know he’s trying to calm me down, even though he’s just as mad as I am. He’s so fucking sweet. He could be ready to kill someone and when he looks at me or touches me, it is always so soft and loving. He treats me like a queen no matter how he feels.

I smile at him and when I catch his eyes, I can tell he needs a break. He is trying so hard to keep his cool in front of everyone, but I can tell the frustration of the day and that encounter is getting to him. I quickly shove the last bite of food into my mouth and lead him to our tent with his hand in mine. I’m going to take all of his thoughts and make them melt away, I know just what to do.

The second we get inside, he asks, “Am I doing something wrong?” and I shake my head and smile at him, staring into his gorgeous blue eyes. You may think he likes to take charge with the way he acts around other people, but you’d have it all wrong. He needs the release of not having to make choices. To listen to someone else for a change, have someone else be responsible for him when no one is watching.

“No baby boy, nothing wrong at all. You’re perfect.” I kiss him on the lips, then kiss both of his cheeks, and when I look into his eyes again, I can’t take it. He’s just so hot, standing there and waiting to react to my every move. I kiss him again, harder this time, moving my hands up under his shirt a little to glide my hands along his stomach and chest. He grabs me by my waist and kisses me back deeply, stifling a small moan. I know he wants me. I grin and look up to him, putting my hand on his cheek softly. “What does my good boy want, hm?”

He bites his lip and looks into my eyes, knowing just the right words to say. “I want to make you feel good, Mistress. I just want to feel you all over me. I want to feel you on my hands, my lips, my tongue, I want to please you with every part of me.” It’s hard for me to keep my composure when he says such yummy words.

“And you can have me. But not yet. Sit on the bed, for now you only get to watch.” He immediately obeys, sitting on the bed with his eyes glued to me. I slowly take off my shirt, much slower than normal, feeling his eyes look over every inch of my stomach, my ribs, my tits, my collarbone and neck, and finally my face again. With my pants, it’s the same thing. I turn around this time though, giving him a full view as I bend over and let him watch every part of my ass and legs become exposed. I peel my underwear off too, giving him just a quick peek of my pussy before standing up and turning around again.

Instead of letting him touch me like he asked for, I smirk at him, trailing my hands up my stomach and start squeezing my tits, then trailing my fingertips around my nipples until they get hard. I love watching him practically drool, watching his pants get tight, his hands grabbing onto the sheets to stop himself from leaping up and grabbing me.

I move a hand down my stomach, across my hips, parting my legs just enough to let my hand slip between them. I keep one hand squeezing my tit and sometimes pinching my nipple, letting the other hand glide along my slit, then I start to slowly rub my clit. I lean my head back and moan, wondering just how much this is killing him and enticing him to watch. After maybe a minute or so, I pull my hand back up, stare straight into his eyes, and lick the wetness off of my fingers. His face flushes, and I ask him, “What is it? Do you want a taste too?”

He stumbles over his words as though he couldn’t get them out fast enough, “Yes, Mistress, please let me taste you.” It makes me feel so warm inside when he says these things. Of course, I’ll give him what he wants. I walk towards him, put a foot up onto the bed to give him a better view, and slide a single finger inside of myself. When I pull it out, it’s glistening. It’s fucking teasing me to do this too, but I love seeing how much he wants me.

“Open.” I demand as I put my finger up to his lips, and he does so immediately. I slide my finger in his mouth, and he is happy to suck my finger clean. “Good boy, you are so patient. You get to touch me now.” I lay down onto the bed, “Whatever you want to do to start with, baby, you earned it.”

He climbs on top of me, kissing my neck oh so gently, it almost tickles. He works his way down to my chest, and as he does so, his kisses become more erratic and have more pressure. He gets to my tits, and uses his tongue to circle my nipple, using a hand to follow suit on my other nipple. I close my eyes to fully enjoy the sensations, combing my fingers through his hair as he does this.

After a little bit of this, I feel my wetness and the tingle of desire a bit too intensely. “Okay, I need you on my pussy, right now.” The end of my sentence is almost a growl, I didn’t realize how fucking wet I was until it hit me like a brick wall and I couldn’t wait a single second longer.

“Yes Mistress, of course.” He scoots back on the bed, wetting two of his fingers using my own juices, sliding one in and pumping a few times before adding the second. He starts kissing my clit, just warming me up as he continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out, just barely curling his fingers up at the last second of every thrust, only a whisper of a touch to my g-spot. Even with how soft he’s being, my breathing quickens. He’s not one to need too much direction on exactly how to please a woman. He doesn’t start off too fast, and he definitely knows where all the good spots are. Whether he’s naturally gifted, or if he’s practiced, I’ve never cared to ask. He’s all fucking mine and that’s the only thing that matters to me.

“You’re doing so good, baby, you’re such a good boy for me, that’s just right.” I coo at him, making sure every second that he knows just how good he’s making me feel.

His kisses on my clit slowly turn into kisses with tongue, and that turns into pressing his tongue into me with the tiniest of suction of his lips, letting go with a tiny pop every time. As his kisses change into this, his fingers start working faster, and the second he feels my g-spot swell, he starts fully curving them into that wonderful “come here” motion as he pumps them in and out of me. His tongue gets faster as well, consistent stimulation with suction every few seconds, it’s perfect. I grip the sheets with one hand and his hair in another, unable to control how loud or often I’m moaning. I can barely talk anymore, but I mumble out a “Good boy, just like that!”

It only takes a couple of minutes before my orgasm comes to the brink, my legs shaking and the world around me practically spinning as I hit my peak. When it calms down, I grip his hair tighter and pull him up to me in a sloppy kiss, both of us breathing heavily. “Am I making you feel good, Mistress? That was good?” He asks me, and my heart melts. He is probably the only guy in the world to make a girl cum that hard and not be full of himself about it. He wants reassurance that he’s doing things just how I like them. Fuck, I love him. He is going to be mine forever, I swear to God.

“Yes, you are doing so good, baby boy. I’m going to keep you mine forever. Understand?” I look into his eyes so that he knows that isn’t just pillow talk, that he really is mine. Forever.

He nods with more enthusiasm than I’ve ever seen, and responds with the same seriousness in his voice that I had in mine. “Yes Mistress, I’m all yours, forever. You own me.”

I give him one more kiss before switching our positions so that I’m on top of him now. “I need you to be inside me now.” I say as I slowly ease myself onto him, groaning as I feel the fullness inside of me. “It’s my turn to watch as you feel good, baby.” I say soothingly, before adding sternly, “now don’t you dare look away. I want to look into your eyes the whole time I’m making you feel good.”

He bites his lip and nods, almost immediately moaning as I start riding him, slowly at first, moving my hips up and down, then back and forth, then a mixture of them all, in a circle. I love watching the sweat slowly build in his hair, watching the muscles on his chest and abs clench as I make him feel so good. I place my hand on his chest to give me better leverage to go faster, faster, and stop right as I see he is starting to get closer to his orgasm.

Disappointment flickers in his eyes, but only for a moment, he knows I’m never going to fully deny him. He’s too beautiful and perfect to truly be mean. I lean down to give him a kiss, before whispering into his ear. “Now, you’re going to make me cum again. I’m going to stay still, and you are going to fuck me like this, exactly how I tell you to.”

“Yes Mistress, I want to make you cum on me. Please tell me what you want.” He begs and I groan quietly, he’s too fucking good.

I straighten back up and tell him to start off slow, which he does. He keeps his hands on my waist to help him gain leverage, and I trail my fingers along his chest and tell him constantly how good he’s doing, how much he’s pleasing me. I tell him to go faster, then to slow down, then to go deeper and harder, then faster, then slow again. He follows along with my words perfectly. I like to work myself up to the edge, not too fast, I want to enjoy every moment of this. But when I notice he is getting a little tired, I tell him to speed up and fuck me as hard as he can.

My nails dig into his chest as I cum, my head falling back as I moan and my legs squeeze against his sides, making it harder for him to continue fucking me but he pushes through. When I look back down at him I smile at his flushed face, “Stop, baby. You can stop. You are such a perfect fuck toy. Now it’s finally your turn.”

I start riding him again, keeping up with the quick pace and making sure I’m going all the way down, pushing all of him inside me with every hip thrust. I love watching him pant and whimper as he gets close to the edge. “Mistress, please, I-I-I’m close!” he says with urgency, and I get off of him and immediately jerk him off, keeping the pace as I watch him cum all over himself, biting my lip as I watch.

“Look at what a mess you’ve made, baby.” I tease, making him blush a little bit but he knows I’m not mad. I just love watching him make a mess everywhere, especially on himself. I quickly grab a rag and clean him up, first wiping the sweat off his brow and then cleaning up his chest.

I lay down next to him, propping myself up on my elbow. I kiss him all over his face, a million times practically, whispering in a soothing voice “You are such a good boy,” and “You did such a wonderful job,” and “It’s all over now baby, I love you so much.” and “I’ll be right here to care for you, always.” in between the kisses being peppered all over his face. He snuggles into me, and I am happy to hold him, regulating my own breathing in order to help him regulate his.

I stroke his hair, humming softly in a soothing lullaby I forgot the words to a long time ago, every once in a while kissing the top of his head. After a while, he looks up at me and asks, “Did you really mean it, that I’m yours forever? Because.. I want to be. I always want to be yours, Y/N. Always.”

I smile back at him, my heart melting all over again. “Whatever would I do without you, John? I love you.”

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inmyownlaine · 1 year

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John Murphy x Reader: Enemies to Lovers Trope

Warnings: Weapons, threatening death

Word Count: 2075

Part: 1

Summary: After taking cover in the underground bunker, you find yourself trapped with your sworn enemy. As time trails on, you realize the two of you will have to stay there till the coast is clear. The worst part? There’s only ONE bed 😮🤯

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He hated you. More than anything or anyone. In fact, if he were given the option to be pushed off a cliff or spend time with you, he would jump on his own accord and do a backflip on the way down.

And you couldn’t stand to be around him. You would rather spend your time eating soggy bread, walking in wet socks, or ripping band-aids off your bare skin. Anything was better, more preferable, than seeing his face.

If the two of you weren’t spitting insults at each other with vitriol and pure malice, you were physically harming one another. There was nothing amiable about the shoulder check he delivered on a daily basis. Likewise, your perfectly placed foot was not in jest. Especially when he would trip over it and go tumbling to the ground.

It got to the point where you couldn’t walk alone. He would grab you by the arm and slam you against walls, knife to throat, as he chuckled menacingly in your ear. “You know how easy it would be for me to kill you?” he would always ask.

And he couldn’t sit with his back to you, or else he’d find the barrel of a gun nudging his temple, and you with an itchy trigger finger. You’d deliver a smug little smile, pushing it further and further into his head. “And just like that, all my problems would suddenly go away,” you would always comment.

Yet, neither of you actually did anything. It was the sheer adrenaline, the barbaric action, the thrill of it all, that led you to behave so irresponsibly. The bruises and cuts and words would not stand in your way. No amount of concerned teenagers or useless pep talks would interfere. Nothing.

Being this wicked was a lonely road. You felt like a great white approaching a school of herrings. Wherever you went, there was an immediate scatter. Active avoidance upon sight was recommended. But you were the best shot, bar none. It was the only reason anyone allowed you to have a gun.

Or tag along on their excursions.

In front of them, of course. So everyone could clearly see exactly what you were doing. The wave of terror you caused was oddly devine. You didn’t live to torture others, or to be feared by the masses, but it was such a wonderful feeling to have some sense of power. So you sashayed with pride, lips puckered in a confident pout, leading them steadfast through the unknown forest.

The chatter behind didn’t phase you in the slightest. They were probably gossiping about their childish crushes or bantering with inside jokes. Neither of which concerned you or piqued interest.

That’s when the most grating, most vexatious voice muttered in a not-so-low tone, “Such an easy target.”

There was no hesitation. The gun was already in your hands as you spun around, aiming it directly at him. Everyone gasped, ducking for cover.

Except for him. He encroached your perimeter, arms tightly crossed against his chest, practically begging to be sprayed with bullets. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “That’s cute.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you warned him.

“Or what?”

You sneered. “I’ll finally grant you your wish. A chance to see your father again.”

He laughed aloud, minimizing the distance with every arrogant step he took. With a final act of provocation, he willingly placed his forehead on the muzzle. With both his hands in the air, mocking surrender, he glowered at you through slacked eyelids. “Then do it.”

A foghorn rang out across the woods. You removed the gun from his head and pointed it into the trees. An outbreak of panic coursed through the unit as they frantically asked what to do. Some didn’t wait for a response.

Half of the unit bolted towards the dropship. The other half formed a circle, guns outwards and ready for open fire. It became clear that you weren’t going to be battling someone, but rather, something.

It started as a mist in the faraway trees, consuming the trunks with thick smoke. Then it started to grow in every way, wider and higher, before all that seemed to lay before you was a rain cloud. One that made your skin itch, made your throat close. It was then you knew you had only a single option.

“Run!” you screamed, taking off after the others.

He was right beside you, matching step for step. It had been a while since death brushed your lips, leaving a poisonous sting, invigorating your will to survive. So much so, that the idea of tripping him (for old times sake!), tickled at your brain.

“What is that?” he yelled out, elbow covering his nose and mouth. He didn’t offer any indication, but you saw it, too. A silver wheel was bolted atop a thick metal hatch. You didn't have time to wonder about the specifics. Nor did you have the time to grimace when your hands accidentally touched; first when spinning the wheel, and second upon opening the hatch, revealing a ladder into dark descent.

“Go!” he urged you. You didn’t think twice, stepping onto the ladder and hurrying down, rung by rung. The hatch slammed shut, followed by labored grunts as he tightened it back to its original state and then some. With the abrupt overtake of darkness and the narrow pathway, you felt extremely claustrophobic.

He continued down the ladder as you froze, catching up to you in a matter of mere seconds. He stomped haphazardly, boots barely missing the tips of your fingers.

“Don’t step on me,” you warned him.

“I’ll do what I want.”

Knowing full well that he would love nothing more than to squish you beneath his weight, you pressed on till your foot met the dirt floor. It was pitch black as you fumbled around in the darkness, feeling around for any type of lantern, flashlight, or match box. He trampled behind you, presumably following suit.

“What could be worse than this?” he mumbled.

“Um, what?” you scoffed.

“Wasn’t for you to hear.”

“Cool. So you wanna climb back up the ladder and take your chances out there?” For the first time ever, he didn’t have anything to say. You took that as a victory, further twisting the knife. “That’s what I thought. Shut up.”

Ten minutes had passed and no progress was made. From what you felt, however, you could tell there was a wooden desk with a chair, a broken lamp and a dining table set. Whoever created this doomsday bunker obviously made it to be their home. You couldn’t imagine living your entire life underground, fearful of the dangers above. You stopped short when you realized you had done the exact opposite; lived your life above, fearful of the dangers below.

“This is no use,” you finally said.

“You really didn’t find anything?” his voice spouted back.

“And you did?”

There was a loud plop, followed by numerous rustles and the quiet zing of a zipper. It dawned on you that he was digging around in his backpack and the insides of your stomach burned. If you had been searching for a light this entire time, and he willingly allowed you to make an ass of yourself, it was over for him.

“I swear, if you pull out a flashlight-”

But his face illuminated with the glow of an LED light, revealing his arrogant expression. “What?”

You couldn’t even begin to convey how livid you were. Your fingers balled up into tight fists, and you had half a mind to swing on him. He pointed the light in your direction, blinding you before chuckling.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” With that he pressed on, exploring the rest that this space had to offer. You didn’t want to figure out anything more. All you wanted was the fog to pass so you could leave this hellhole.

However, you didn’t know how long that would take. Hours? Days? The thought of being with him that long made your head ache. So instead, you flopped back on the hard mattress, staring up at the low ceiling.

“What are you doing?” he questioned.

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like,” he started, “you think you’re taking the bed tonight.”

“Not really a thought. I’m here and I’m on it,” you said.

“Comfortable, are you? Not worried I’ll kill you in your sleep?” he asked.

You simply shrugged. “Who says I won’t get you first?”

The banter had gone on long enough. His face flushed as he approached you, looming over your body with his disturbing presence. You tried to act like you weren’t scared. Yet the thought of him actually hurting you wouldn’t escape your mind. If he really wanted to end it all tonight, he could.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” he informed you.

“Well neither am I.”

“Don’t make me do this.” You gritted your teeth. Your gun was too far away from you. This would have to be a grappling game, one that you would surely lose. Especially if he kept his knife tucked into his pocket.

“If you’re not going to sleep on the floor, and I’m not going to sleep on the floor-” He stopped abruptly and just looked at you. You looked back, not understanding what he meant.

“Scoot over,” he finally said.

“Ew, no!” you exclaimed.

“Do you have a better idea?” he snapped. “You want to kill each other over a sleeping spot or you want to make it out tomorrow?”

The answer was obvious. You huffed and wriggled to the far end of the bed, nose brushing the metal wall in an effort to distance yourself as much as possible. With your arms crossed and eyes clamped, you imagined this wasn’t happening as you felt his side sag under his weight. He repositioned himself multiple times, frustrating you further, but finally made a decision and laid down quietly.

What would they say? What would you tell them? This was beyond humiliating, it was mortifying. To be laid up next to a person you openly abhorred was not good for your reputation. You had to make sure he knew the boundary and that it would never be crossed.

“You tell no one.”

“I’d say the same thing,” he replied, “but you don’t have any friends to tell.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

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You awoke to a void. It took a second to remember where you were, rubbing your eyes furiously to try to adjust. There was a foghorn, some eerie clouds, an abandoned bunker- oh!- and your absolute worst nightmare sleeping beside you. It all came rushing back and you found yourself grimacing, hoping that you would be able to leave soon.

You pulled the blanket closer to your chin, itchy wool scratching the bare skin on your arms. That had always been your least favorite texture, which was a great parallel to the current situation, where you were trapped with your least favorite person. Of course, every single item and event and circumstance had to be undesirable.

The knotted threads at the end of the blanket were tangled, so you took it upon yourself to separate them out. All the while you reflected, yet again, on your predicament. Your fingers worked tediously, preferring to sort out these problems than address your own.

With one knot being completely relenting, you found yourself thinking how it wasn’t this tangled when you fell asleep. In fact, you didn’t recall having a blanket at all…

Your eyes widened as you slowly rolled over, just enough so you could look over your shoulder. It was too dark to see. Your hand reached to Murphy’s side, touching him lightly. You felt the same scratchy wool instead of his leather jacket. It became apparent that his back was to you, but closer than it previously was. And the blanket you despised so much was covering you both.

You didn’t know what this meant. No one had ever been kind to you before. You weren’t the least bit surprised. All you caused was chaos and misery. No one owed you anything. Murphy, least of all. Yet he took care of you, tended to a single want instead of treating you like a monster. Like you were nothing less than human.

“Thank you,” you whispered into the shadows. He didn’t respond. And for once, you found yourself wishing that he would.

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MAJOR shout for the TikTok, I saw it and couldn’t stop thinking about it. Created by the100babe, captioned: read flags looking green. Can’t disagree 🥴🥵

Xx Lainey

#john murphy #writing #love #the 100 #john murphy fanfic #john murphy x reader #John Murphy angst #John Murphy fic #John Murphy imagine #the 100 fanfic #the 100 imagine #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 fluff #the 100 x reader #the 100 love

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kilibaggins · 2 years

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The Strongest Person I Know | John Murphy

john murphy x reader

Request from Anonymous: Can you do something where John Murphy wakes up to your night terror and helps you through it? please, if not thats fine

A/N: gosh i feel like i haven't written john murphy for a while! this is so! i love him so much and i hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: nightmares about death, murphy's violence at the dropship is mentioned. the nightmare is not described and neither is murphy's violence at the dropship.

Word Count: 463

Murphy wakes up to you crying softly, small little whimpers in your sleep. The nightmare raging through your head is one of the bad ones. The bad ones where Murphy dies, or something goes horribly wrong in every single way possible.

Murphy turns to you, squinting in the darkness to look at you. He sees your face is twisted up in fear and he instantly knows what’s happening. He sits up on his elbow and gently pushes at your shoulder.

“Y/N? Hey, Y/N, wake up,” Murphy tries to wake you up, his voice a small whispers, when that doesn’t work he raises his voice. “Hey! Y/N! Wake up, babe.”

You jump awake, pushing slightly away from Murphy. Murphy softly grabs your hand and looks at you.

“Hey, whoa! Just me, it’s just Murphy!” He tries to calm you down, his eyes wild. You takes a few deep breaths and tears fall down your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his neck and he holds you close to him with his free arm.

“Yeah, it’s okay, it’s alright I’m here.” He repeats, softly trying to calm you down. He’s not used to this, really. He’s used to being the one who needs comfort in the night from his nightmares.

“You- You were-” You try to get out but you’re cut off by your own crying. Murphy lays back then, pulling you down with him so you’re laying on his chest. He runs his hand up and down your back, trying to relax you as much as he can. “You were dead.”

Murphy sighs sadly, hating the idea that you’d have to dream about something like that. He takes your hand and puts it over his heart.

“You feel that?” Murphy asks, taking deep breaths. You feel his heartbeat very faintly under his skin.

“Yeah,” You say, looking up at him.

“I’m alive. I’m safe, and I’m alive, and we’re here together in this messed up world and I’m not planning on leaving it anytime soon.” He promises you, bringing the hand from his chest to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly. If someone had told you back at the dropship that the same John Murphy that was violent and angry would be holding you softly from a nightmare years later you would have laughed in their face.

“What if…” You trail off sadly, scared. “What if something happens and I’m not strong enough to save you.” You say, thinking about your dream. Murphy softly lets go of your hand and trails his hand over the side of your face.

“Y/N, you’re the strongest person I know,” Murphy says, his tone gentle and serious, “We can make it through all of this together.”

You nod against him and relax into his chest. He holds you close and kisses your head.

It’ll be okay.

#the 100 #t100 #john murphy #john murphy x reader #the 100 x reader #the 100 imagine #request #anonymous request #the100 #john murphy imagine #john murphy fic #john murphy fanfic #my fanfic #ry.original

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url-is-under-construction · 1 year

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𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 | 𝐉.𝐌 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Requested by the beautiful @jaywolf840 :

Hiya! I was wondering if you possibly wouldn't mind writing a (The 100) John Murphy x reader imagine? 👉🏼 👈🏼 Maybe John and reader stargazing one night (this takes place during season 1-2) and it's basically just a cute fluffy time between the two until they get caught up in a moment, nearly kiss and one of them nearly confesses their feelings but then gets too embarrassed and cuts the night off to go to bed. I hope that makes sense, I dunno I'm kinda tired 😂😅😅

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Fluff, mentions of like violence but very mild, tragic backstories but you guys know the drill.

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: Ethereal. That's what it was. The beauty of watching the stars in the sky from the ground was utterly breathtaking, and with John there to view it with you the moment couldn't be more perfect, and neither could he.

𝐀/𝐍: I read this request and died thinking about how cute I could make this so I hope you enjoy it <3

Earth was beautiful. Ever since you'd landed you'd known that this was where you were supposed to be. The vegetation, the wildlife, all of it. You adored the world around you and the abundance it offered. You loved the way running water sounded, and the way it felt against your virgin skin. You relished in the way the wind would caress your face and sweep your hair back behind you. You got drunk on the feeling of the sun kissing your face in the early morning when you left your tent.

Most of all though, you looked forward to the stars. Looking up into the barren land you once called a home, and drinking in the beauty of it from a distance.

A twig snapping from behind you made you jump, pulling your attention away from the sky above you. You didn’t need to turn to see who it was, and a small smile grew on your face as he sat down beside you, wordlessly.

Murphy, or John as you were allowed to call him when only his ears were around to hear it. The privacy the blanket of the night sky offered beat any makeshift tent back in your camp, and every night the two of you would sit and enjoy each others company, stargazing as it was called.

Some nights you would speak to each other, other nights you would sit and enjoy each others company in silence. It didn’t really matter whether your words were involved or not - it meant something to both of you either way.

“The stars are out again tonight.” You commented softly, taking his mind back to last night when a thick cloud cover had obscured them from your view. You had still sat and enjoyed the night, but it wasn’t the same without those little beacons lighting up the sky.

“Mmm.” He just hummed, sounding tired.

Not bothered or annoyed by you, just tired. He worked hard around the camp, and despite was people saw on the outside he was more than a snarky dickhead. You hated to say he was different with you, but he was. Maybe it was because you had taken the time to look past the rude exterior, and you hadn’t let prejudice sway how you treated him when you’d first met him.

“Long day?” You asked, shifting your head to the side slightly to look at him. He looked exhausted, heavy bags and sunken cheeks. His face was downturned without emotion, and his eyes were empty despite reflecting the stars above you.

“Yeah.” He nodded, adjusting to lay down beside you. You followed him, allowing your head to rest by his shoulder, brushing against it gently.

You felt his arm come around your shoulders, holding you. To anyone who stumbled out you would look like a love struck couple, but this was just your friendship with him. It was open and soft and gentle, all the things that he wasn’t.

You loved him either way. You didn’t know what kind of love you felt for him, at first it was platonic but now you weren’t so sure. It didn’t really matter - as long as he knew how you felt.

“You ever wish you could still be up there?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“The Ark?”

“Yeah.” He turned his head to look at you, eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t pinpoint.

“God no.” You almost laughed. “Why would I?”

“It was easier up there.” He shrugged. “People hated me, but not the way they do down here. I didn’t have to worry about being speared through the chest and strung up as bait, or how I’d find my next meal.”

“I don’t think it was easier up there.” You admitted. “I didn’t have you up there.”

He squeezed your shoulder. “That’s why it would’ve been easier for you.”

He said it as a joke but you could hear the sincerity behind his words. It made you frown.

“You’re perfect, John. You’ve made Earth so much better for me than you can even begin to understand.”

He was silent at your words for a moment, averting his gaze from yours, looking back to the stars for guidance.

A doubtful feeling grew in your stomach, as you wondered whether or not you’d said the right thing. He opened his mouth, as though he was about to say something but he was cut off.

A large crack of thunder echoed throughout the small valley you called home with the rest of the hundred. Droplets of rain fell from the sky, splattering onto your face, increasing with intensity every couple of seconds.

“We should head inside.” Murphy said, standing abruptly. Rain shook from his hair and clothes as he stood, reaching down to offer you a hand up.

You’d expected him to walk in through the gates with you but as soon as you were on your feet he’d turned and walked off, a nervous, almost shy, air about him that you’d never seen before.

You looked to the stars one more time before heading inside, but they were gone, once again buried beneath the rain clouds.

A small sigh left your lips as you trudged inside, already looking forward to your next stargaze with John.

#murphy x reader #john murphy x reader #john murphy fic #murphy fic #john murphy imagine #murphy imagine

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pherelesytsia · 1 year

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Who did this to you? - 8

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend's house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Warning: fear, anxiety, Angst, swearing

Word Count: 2.3k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part6 Part 7 Part 9

The clouds wandered on, a lonely wanderer travelling across oceans and meadows, hills and rugged mountains painted in snow. White greyed, darkened and blackened, turned into pure doom, darker than black. The wind howled, screamed and screeched and the branches, crooked fingers, waltzed in all directions.

Silence blanketed the car driving down the path bordered by fields and trees, but it was not unpleasant, cruel, forcing nonsense to fall to shatter it. Shocked, Y/N noticed with widened eyes they had arrived at the open gates of the estate she called her home. At a rapid pace, the car drove on and on, past other parked cars and parked between them in different shades of the deep ocean. The motor wasn't roaring, turned off and the chanting of the birds sitting in one line on the lowest branch invaded the car smelling of alcohol, petrol and leather. The wind knocked on the automobile. Polly gulped, turned and rested her hand graced by a golden ring cautiously, almost shyly, on Y/N´s lap, but the shivering and shaking woman painted in blue and red, lightened by streaks of purple, did not flinch nor speak her mind. Carefully Polly´s fingers slid across Y/N´s calf and pulled the thick fabric higher to hide the exposed skin. Polly pronounced her name and pulled Y/N out of the dark and dreary thoughts, summoning goosebumps all over her flesh.

"Thomas is fine. He knows what he's doing. Nothing will happen to him." Polly assured calmly, guessing the reason for the fear in the widened eyes and sweaty palms.

Faintly Y/N smiled.

"I know, but I'm worried about him. About Poppy. There was blood, too much blood. I thought it was the new wallpaper she had told me about. They, she and her mother, redecorated the house. The pattern, it looked like flowers, large and smaller dots." she replied.

Exhaling, Y/N closed her eyes veiled by tears once fixed on the distance, watching the sun, the rays breaking through the travelling clouds heralding a day full of terror.

"I'm sure your friend is fine, too. Thomas will take care of her." the woman continued with a gentle, encouraging smile on her features, kissed by the orange rays.

Polly cleared her throat. The smile fainted, and the wrinkles deepened. She didn't need to search for the right words, had already pictured during the ride what she would say to Y/N if their paths should cross, but all Polly wanted to say had dissolved, had lost its meaning.

"We're home Y/N/N. Ada is waiting, but before we go inside, I want you to know that we are sorry. We have not been good to you, to put it nicely. Please forgive us and I speak on behalf of the whole family. John was the one who opened the door for your friend. After we realised what had happened, we were looking for you. I hope you will give us a second chance even if we don't deserve one. We will understand if you want to leave. We won't hate you for your decision." Polly continued and squeezed Y/N´s hand.

Y/N turned, ignoring the nearly unignorable pain trying to elicit a hiss from her, and turned to face Polly. She wanted to start a sentence; lips parted, but no tone escaped the sore throat. Y/N stared past Polly towards the door, flying back and forth in the fresh morning breeze. Ada ran towards the car as if chased by a ghost, had left the door wide open, ran on tiptoes and hissed and cursed like a witch as the stones dug deep into the soles of her reddening feet. The hem of the dress danced in the breeze. Gasping for air, Ada spread the large checked blanket, usually resting on the floor next to the sofa. The wind painted her cheeks vibrant red, lighter than her evening gown.

"Come, Y/N/N, we will protect you." Polly assured in a calm, slightly quivering voice, but Y/N heard no falseness, no lie in it.

Y/N could not utter a reply. The air, hinting of winter, invaded the car. The women shivered and balled the hands into fists. Ada hushed a greeting, spread the blanket, glanced at the wounds gracing Y/N´s body, down on the battered feet and the shivering limbs. The pain in her chest deepened at the sight of the shadow of a woman, read in her eyes what she had been through. The lip was chapped. The traces of a fight were evident on her cheek and throat. Ada tossed the blanket over her shoulder, noticing Y/N was covered in one. Wordlessly Ada helped Y/N out of the car. Soft curses blurred with whimpers. Whispering soothing words, Ada pulled Y/N away, closer to the house, kicking the door of the automobile shut and gesturing for Polly to pursue.

"I've prepared a bath for you. I'll help you upstairs. If you don't want to bathe, I can put a bucket of water next to the sofa. You can at least warm your feet." Ada said.

With every step, every slight movement Y/N made, the once brilliant white material slipped and revealed more wounds, swellings, and darkening spots not fading in the golden tide of the sun's rays, but grew even darker. Blue turned to green, lit by purple flashes and red veins carrying blue blood. Patiently Ada waited, and stared back at Polly, walking hastily after the women.

"Thank you. I think the bucket will do. Maybe I'll get in the tub later." Y/N replied meekly, as if speaking to her mother, fearing the answer would enrage her, but none of what she expected happened.

The chilly breeze blew through Y/N´s hair one last time. The door slammed shut, and the keys jingled, chanted a song that faded quickly. All doors were closed and locked. Curtains touched. The first aid box, not battered, holey neither with a worn handle nor dented corners, rested open on the table. Scissors, and spotless bandages lay next to bottles of high-proof alcohol, freshly washed not dried glasses, cigarettes and silver needles drowning in alcohol. Blankets covered the sofa, to which Ada led Y/N and a down pillow. The white porcelain bowl graced by blue vines and flowers was in the middle of the crowded table. Smoke rose from the cup, sweet lavender, and banished the unmistakable stench of blood and gore.

"May I offer you some soup?" the question was unnecessary, asked out of politeness.

Y/N turned into a tree, rooted deep into the ground, not moving. Her arms swayed forward. Questioningly, the two Shelby's exchanged glances, searching for the reason for the fear in Y/N´s eyes, unable to find it, but then, after a moment that seemed not to pass, Ada took a step forward, let go of Y/N, took the polished pistol and hid it under the table, still handy but out of Y/N´s sight. Polly placed her hands down on Y/N's shoulders, trying not to cause her any more pain, let the blanket slide to the floor and carefully pressed the young woman down on the sofa. Ada wriggled back towards them, took the blanket still hanging over her shoulder and laid it down on Y/N's legs, covering them, reached for the pair of fluffy socks, wiped away the dirt, small stones, dust and dried mud, and put the socks on Y/N´s feet.

"It's okay." Ada breathed before Y/N could protest.

Smiling, Ada looked up, wiped her hands on her long dress, picked up the bowl filled with soup and placed it carefully in Y/N's lap, handing her the silver spoon.

"Here, Y/N/N, eat. I'll fill you a bucket with warm water in the meantime. Polly will keep you company. If you need anything, if you feel sick, all you have to do is tell us and we will help you. You are still in shock." Ada said in a calm voice.

Gulping, Ada crouched next to Y/N.

"We should have taken you into our family. I am sorry, we are all very sorry. It's understandable that you don't want to see us, you have enough reasons to hate us. The only thing I can do is to promise that we will do better. If you need time, I have a friend. She owns a small cottage a few miles away from town. There is a pond and a small forest. It's lovely. I could arrange that you could spend a few days or weeks there." Ada continued.

Y/N merely nodded, unsure of what to say, not knowing how to respond, and kept on smiling. The two women watched Ada as she rose from the ground like a phoenix from the ashes and strode away. Polly leaned closer to Y/N, tidied the blanket and hinted that she should eat, that it would do her good. A soft thanks escaped Y/N, smiled at the women who wordlessly indicated that she should finally start eating and so Y/N did, dipping the silver cutlery into the depths of the bowl whose end she could not see, watching the thinly chopped vegetables slip from the spoon and as the warm liquid flowed down her throat, Y/N realised how hungry she was and ate greedily.

Time had lost its meaning. Y/N had emptied the contents of the bowl. The last piece of sliced carrots had disappeared, yet she did not place it on the table, continued to warm her fingers on the ceramic bowl.

Heels clicked against the dark wood, had put shoes a hue darker than the evening dress. Cautiously, Ada continued walking with her eyes fixed on the troubled waters, fearing the warm liquid was about to spill over the golden rim. A towel, white with a few washed-out stains, hung over her right shoulder, the towel she always used when a brother standing on the edge of the world was carried inside the house. The floorboards groaned, and Ada stopped and noticed Y/N had finished the soup she had cooked for her.

Out of the corner of her eye Polly noticed how Y/N´s eyes were growing heavy and she leaned forward, took the bowl and placed it on the table. The young woman wanted to protest as Polly told her to rest, to say that she had to stay awake, that she wanted to wait for the return of the brothers and her husband.

"No, Y/N, lay down. You can stay with us or you can go to the bedroom. We will keep watch and if you need anything, you can call us.", "Polly, we should take care of Y/N's wounds first." Ada interjected.

"That won't be necessary. That can wait. Alfie has taken care of her wounds it's just dirt and scratches. The wounds are not life threatening. Y/N rest, close your eyes. I promise I will wake you up if Thomas is home." she replied.

Carefully Polly pushed Y/N backwards. Her heavy, throbbing head sunk into the pillow. Closing her eyes, Y/N sighed in relief, exhaled as the blanket fell down on her body. Birds chirped, the howling ceased and lulled her to sleep.

Polly leaned forward happily and noticed Y/N had fallen asleep.

"Thomas told me that Alfie has taken care of Y/N. No deep wounds or else I would have taken her to the hospital. We can take care of it later." Polly reported.

Ada rose, set the bowl aside on the table, sighed deeply, nodded, listened to the woman and turned to the fireplace, the blazing flames feasting on the wood and fed by the howling air hinting of winter.

"She was beaten up. I didn't see any bullet wounds. Did Thomas tell you what happened or who is to blame?", "He has a guess, but he couldn't tell me anything specific. It all happened too fast. The gang has Y/N's girlfriend in their grip. At least that's what he thinks. The house was trashed, destroyed, and I think I saw bloodstains on the floor." she breathed softly.

Her eyes kept sliding to the slumbering figure, kept glancing at her right side and noticing with relief that Y/N was still asleep, her eyelids neither twitching nor her lips twisting into a pained grimace.

"Alfie's going to show up any minute. Thomas called him. He fears someone might pay us a visit." Polly whispered in Ada's direction.

Ada perked up, grinned, felt the weight of her weapon at her side, settled down in front of the blazing flames, gnawing on wood and fed by air on the armchair, threw the pillow to the floor on her side and crossed her arms in front of her body.

“We don’t need someone to protect us.” Ada stopped.

A soft knock silenced Ada. The women exchanged glances. The rustling, and shuffling of shoes and feet, softly uttered words, the closing of the door and the jingling of keys followed by low grumbles couldn’t awake Y/N from her deep slumber, lying on the sofa, a princess in the shadow of the vigilant dragons.

TagList:

witchymoonbabe secretdreamlandmentality mysticalpandora kittiowolf210 muhahaha303 dreamy-caramel elinalfrida violet-19999 niyah834 watersquirtpewpewboomm piceous21 elliaze heidimoreton literishdegree99 globetrotter28 thecrazytealady regulusblacksimpsblog torresbarnes nightgirl250 sweet-angely05 allthenamestakenwtd

hellomyweirdos mysticalbouquetwolf-posts batmanbiersack02-blog fulla02 regulusblacksimpsblog smile-sugar calsjack starry-night-reid chlorrox regulusblacksimpsblog 100percentlazybonez kenny-0909 diabolusdevia stuckinmylittlebubble hobothejuggalo camomiletangeringe v7nt7

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forevermorepassionate · 4 months

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Bellamy would be rough but Murphy would be mean

#The 100 #bellamy x reader #Bellamy Blake x reader #john murphy x reader #Murphy x reader #Murphy smut #Bellamy smut #bellamy blake #John Murphy #the 100 x reader #smut #drabble #fluff #female reader #smut fic #smut prompts #smut roleplay #smut writing

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mypoisonedvine · 7 months

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Have you seen Peacock yet? In love with the idea of Yandere!John and Yandere!Emma keeping you as their pet. They both love you so much. Emma’s a softer yan but she still doesn’t want to let you go. 🥰🥰🥰

YES. YES. YES YE SYE SYES Y-

warnings: dark, implied/described noncon, kidnapping/captivity, yandere, housewife kink

You shivered slightly as Emma ran her hands over your hair, humming to herself. "Is the water too cold, sweetie?" she asked.

You didn't answer. It was a little tepid, but that wasn't why you shivered. She sighed a little as she ran her hand down your back, fingers ghosting over a bruise by your shoulder.

"He can be a little... rough, can't he?" she noticed, lowering her voice, and you still didn't respond, looking away from her even more as if the tile wall by the bathtub was suddenly fascinating to you. "Lean back, sweetie, so I can wash your hair."

You did as you were told, laying back to submerge the back of your head in the water; you kept your eyes open at first, but when she looked right at you with those dark brown eyes, you quickly shut your own.

Her hand scooped water over your hairline, carefully avoiding getting any in your eyes. You sighed as you felt her be so delicate with you... you only wish those hands had been so kind before. John didn't say anything when he fucked you; he just held you down, and left you in the bed alone when he was done. Emma came in after, seeming surprised and uncomfortable at the sight of you like that, before softly suggesting 'lets get you cleaned up, dear.'

She sat you back up carefully; at first, you were so unwillingly lost in your memories that you didn't notice her trying to prompt you to lift yourself again.

There was silence, spare the gentle sloshing of water around the tub, and Emma's quiet humming.

"Will you ever let me go?" you blurted out suddenly.

She stopped humming. She sighed a little. "He thinks you're safer here."

"But what do you think?"

She bit her lip, looking away demurely. "Well... I don't think that makes any difference, does it?"

You felt anxiousness stir in your gut as you thought of what you could say then, but feared it would get you in trouble. You couldn't really afford to keep any cards in your hand now, could you? "You could... you could tell him to let me go," you suggested hesitantly.

"Oh-- no, that's not an option," she insisted quickly. "It would be easier to help you adjust to living here now."

Your shoulders sank; realizing this route of conversation was useless, you mostly stopped listening and tried to just think of anything else.

"He's just trying to court you," she explained, "but he doesn't know how."

Not getting a response, she still went on, but moreso talking to herself.

"Maybe he just needs a little help..."

Don't be so nervous. She might like you if you give her a chance! -Emma

John looked at the note with a frown. He wasn't sure what to think of it. He really would've preferred that Emma stayed out of his romantic life, but he also couldn't deny that she probably had some advice he could use... a woman's perspective, that is. John really didn't know anything about women. Hence, keeping you here.

Stepping into the room, he winced a little when he saw you jump, obviously trying to hide how afraid you were of him. He couldn't blame you. But he couldn't help it, either.

For a long moment, you just looked at him; he suddenly realized it was bizarre that he hadn't said anything.

"You look pretty."

He found himself absent-mindedly rubbing his palms on his slacks. "Um... she picked out the dress for me..." you informed him.

"It's pretty. You look pretty," he said again.

You jolted slightly, again, when he stepped in, but he ignored it and walked to the record player. He turned it down-- way down-- and started a slow song quietly. He wasn't sure what he expected; he certainly imagined what might happen, that he might be able to dance with you, but he didn't expect it. You wouldn't want to--

"Do you want to dance?" you offered suddenly, making him whip his head around in surprise. You'd stepped closer to him but seemed to shy away when he looked at you-- he tried to soften his face.

"...do you?" he returned incredulously.

"I... I might," you shrugged, acting a little shy suddenly-- he thought it was rather adorable.

"Why?" he wondered bluntly.

"It sounds fun," you answered with a little smile, but then you glanced away and gave a second answer-- the more honest one, it seemed. "I... I want things to be different, with us."

He nodded. He did, too. He didn't like hurting you... he just didn't think he had any other choice.

"So, I thought... maybe we could dance!" you finished.

"Y-yes, um, sure," he agreed. "I haven't... danced in a long time..."

"That's alright," you assured sweetly, "I'll teach you."

He didn't completely trust your kindness, even if it made his cheeks burn a bit. You'd been so scared of him before, so empty behind the eyes when he forced you onto the bed--

"Can you waltz?" you asked.

"U-um--"

"We can do something easier," you decided quickly instead, motioning for him to come a little closer. Nervously, but obediently, he did.

He carefully took your waist, sighing harder through his nose than he meant to-- he didn't want you to know how nervous he was.

But he probably gave it away when you reached up and held his shoulders, and he looked at you with wide eyes.

Then, you started to sway together-- slowly, in time with the music. He couldn't look away from you, even when he realized that you were looking away out of awkward discomfort. You just looked so beautiful like this, and holding you in his arms just felt so right. He held his breath when you leaned in and laid your head on his chest, as if one wrong move would scare you off.

He thought about asking you why you were doing this. He thought about telling you that he knew all along you were made for him-- that you would be happy here, if you let yourself accept it. He thought about just grabbing you and pulling you closer, desperate to feel your body against his own. But he was too scared: he didn't do anything, not until you told him to.

You looked up at him suddenly, with wide and pleading eyes. "You can kiss me, John," you whispered.

What could he possibly say to that? Thankfully, he got the sense that he didn't really need to say anything... he could just kiss you, apparently, so he did. He wasn't really sure if he was doing it right-- but it felt right, pressing his lips to yours softly. You were so sweet and delicate... he melted a little, right then, knowing more than ever that he made the right choice bringing you here. His heart was pounding and his mind was swarming with the overwhelming obsession with you that he could hardly believe he'd once tried to fight.

You started to pull away, but his desperation took over-- he grabbed your face and kissed you harder, following you when you stepped back until you stumbled into the dresser and he had to catch you. "John, wait--" you mumbled.

"Don't wanna wait," he groaned in reply. "I waited so long for you already--"

Still, you pushed him back at the shoulders, and he quickly wiped his mouth as he broke away from you. "I'm sorry," you said right away, "it's not-- it's not that I don't want you to... I just wanted to talk to you first."

"Oh... okay," he mumbled, feeling more confused than ever. What was there to talk about?

"I... I think you're very sweet," you told him, "and I always thought that-- it's why I came to the bank so much, you know. To see you."

He smiled a little. He'd always suspected that, but never let himself truly believe it. A girl like you would never go for a guy like him... or he wouldn't have had to do this.

"But it's just... it's not practical, is it?" you said. "The way you went about it--"

"I-I just need you too much," he tried to defend.

"No, I understand," you promised with a sigh, "and I'm not angry. But... I think maybe... it might be better if you let me--"

"No."

You whined a little. "You didn't even hear what I wanted--"

"I don't need to. You want to leave," he accused. "And I won't let you."

"John, you can't do this. You can't keep me here forever!" you yelped.

"You say you want things to be different with us, then you say that," he sneered. "You want to make me angry, don't you?"

"No, John," you denied quickly, but he was already stepping closer, backing you into a corner. "John, please--"

"You want me to be like this!" he continued regardless. "You're trying to make me angry!"

You shook your head, eyes welling as he pushed you back.

"You know you can't leave. You know I can't let you leave," he growled, grabbing you hard as you whined and tried weakly to fight him. His chest swelled with an addictive sort of rage... no, he didn't want to hurt you, but something made him feel sickly proud when he did, because he could. "You belong to me now. Nothing's ever gonna change that."

"Please," you sobbed weakly, hiding your face in your hands-- but he pulled them away and pinned them back, pressing himself to you until you looked up at him fearfully.

"I'm never letting you leave this house," he assured, "you'll be lucky if I let you leave that bed again."

You had barely even opened your mouth to protest when he wrapped his hand around your neck, choking your cries into silence.

"Not another word, Mrs. Skillpa," he whispered sharply. "This is my house-- and I own everything in it. I'm in charge here, understand?"

#john skillpa x reader #emma skillpa x reader #john skillpa dark fic #emma skillpa dark fic #cillian murphy x reader

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red-write-hand · 6 months

Text

Modern!Tommy headcanons

(this could just be my thoughts splat onto a page but have fun! also no beta read we die like tommy's sexuality the moment he saw alfie solomons)

If that man could take his computer to bed with him, he would

He runs on cigarettes and coffee

I feel like he would totally have those machines that are super intricate about making coffee

Usually an apple loyalist but buys add-ons from others (think headphones, charging cables, other Bluetooth items)

Listens to The Neighborhood, Drake, Hozier, Eminem, The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Kendrick Lamar, Bastille

Exclusively buys from Boss, started as a joke with his brothers but then he realized he really likes the suits he bought

Owns a bunch of clubs and knows about the best clubs to go to if you want a good time

Likes to eat expensive food but will never turn down Italian take out at horrible hours of the night

Absolutely owns a pair of those Bluetooth Raybans that play music discreetly

Favorite movies are the Tobey Maguire Spidermans, Star Wars (only the New Hope, Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi, Revenge of the Sith, and Rise of Skywalker)

Has better figured out his own mental health and sexuality

this👏man👏is👏bisexual👏 (it radiates off him, takes one to know one)

since it is more widely accepted, he feels a little better about it

he absolutely had his first bi panic when he would banter with Freddie

that and EVERY interaction with Alfie

alfie bought him a tiny pride flag which he keeps in his desk, right next to his incredibly expensive alcohol ~x fem!Reader headcanons (m! in part 2)~ warnings: kinda unethical office workplace relationship?

its become a joke of sorts about being tommy's secretary around his family

this all stemmed from him taking an interest in you when you applied

you really were gorgeous to him

you're the only person he is slightly comfortable around besides the Blinders or his own family

the longer you work with him, the more comfortable he gets

after awhile, he (politely, our boy is respectful) asks you to call him Tommy instead of 'Mr. Shelby'

he is one of the most sought after men in the city which makes him very alluring to most

you don't super see it, he's always been very "normal" around, not the silver tongued devil most people knew him as

it wasn't that you didn't like him, you really did, his gorgeous frame, his perfect eyes, his slender fingers, his dark hair, everything was amazing except for the fact that he never really showed any interest in you, to him (you thought), you were his secretary, nothing more

oh how wrong you were

this all changes one late night, him still tirelessly working and you still there making sure that he doesn't stay there all night

it doesn't take much for him to just keep running on fumes so it usually falls upon you to remind him what god awful hour it is

you gently crack open the door and poke your head in

"Hey, Tommy, it's almost 1, pack it up and get some actual sleep."

He rolled his neck and closed his computer, just before packing everything up, he stops

"Cmon 'ere"

It was simple and you knew what could happen if something were to go down but you could find a new job if you had to

The Shelby building was quiet and the only office with any lights on was his

You leaned on the side of his desk and he opens the big drawer at the bottom

He procures the bottle of probably very expensive alcohol and starts pouring you one

"Why do you stay so late? Making sure I go home isn't in your contract."

You thought about it, it had become such a part of your daily cycle

"I guess I've just gotten used to it. Seemed like the right things to do after awhile."

He thanks you quietly and hands your glass of the whiskey he had poured

This was the softest you had ever seen him, you decided to capitalize off of it

"I've never understood it, why are you so comfortable with me Tommy?"

He nods slowly, knowing he would have to explain himself soon

"Polly says I don't 'ave my head straight yet, so my answer won't do you much good."

You, of course, weren't satisfied with that answer so you decided to play a hunch

By this hour of the night, his hair was rather disheveled so you tentatively ran your finger through it, fixing it for him

a small smirk bloomed on your lips when his expression seemed to soften more

This sort of tension was now a pattern for the two of you

The tension got to such a height that after awhile, late at night, he would just pull you into his lap and have his hand wrapped around your waist

You like to run your hands through his hair or trace his jaw with your fingertip

this is just how it is for the two of you and both of you like that <3

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mrs-fuckin-shelby · 7 months

Text

‘Nightmares’

A little h/c Tommy x reader imagine

‘No… no! No, please…’ he muttered in his sleep. The nightmares. The endless fucking nightmares… they always came back. He turned and tossed lightly , but he movements were full of panic and fright.

His muffled cries made their way into your dream, yours was about Tommy and so sweet. You woke up immediately as you heard him and opened your eyes. You sat upright and looked next to you: he was dreaming, and his wasn’t lovely… His jaw was clenched tightly, his hair tousled and damp, his eyes squeezed shut.

The sight was heart-wrenching… ‘Tommy.’ you said gently, he had to wake up but you didn’t want to scare him. ‘So cold… dark.’ He gritted through his teeth. He was talking about the war, about the tunnels. ‘Tommy.’ you said again, ‘Darling, wake up.’

He opened his eyes with a loud cry and looks around, eyes burning with sheer dread and terror. ‘Tommy, hey.’ You said but he wasn’t looking at you, his bright eyes were fixed on the wall. ‘I don’t want to go back!’ he whimpered. ‘Tommy. Hey, look at me.’ you cupped his cheek carefully. Your touch made him realise he was at home, safely in bed with the woman he loved. ‘You’re safe, it was a nightmare. None of it was real.’

His gaze traveled to the wall again, you instinctively took his hand in yours. ‘Look at me, eh? I’m right here.’ you said calmingly. You were surprised at how well you hid the tremble in your voice. He swallowed and lay down, facing you. ‘It’s alright.’ You whispered and swiped a strand of sweat soaked hair from his forehead. His eyes were watery, tears pooling at his long lashes. Your fingers stroked his cheekbone and caressed his face. ‘I’m sorry…’ he said, his voice was broken. He felt ashamed because he wanted to be brave and put his mind to rest, put an end to the night terrors.

‘Hey, don’t. You’re strong and brave. And I’ll always be here, I promise.’

A sigh escaped his lips as you pressed a gently kiss onto his temple. He felt so safe and loved when he was with you. He smiled weakly and brushed your cheek with his fingers. ‘I love you.’ he said softly.

‘I love you too, Tommy Shelby.’ you spoke sweetly. You crawled closer to him and pulled him against you. He rested his head in the crook of your shoulder and fell into a blissful sleep.

#ada shelby #arthur shelby #by order of the peaky blinders #cillian murphy #finn shelby #john shelby #michael gray #peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #polly gray #grace shelby #lizzie shelby #cill #cillian fic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby headcanon

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hd-junglebook · 2 months

Text

The Other Side

Part 1 - Word Count 2463

Crouched on her tree branch overlook, Y/N watched curiously as the group of five approached the cliff's edge. She was intrigued by these strangers, the first new people she had encountered since witnessing the ship crash.

The boy with long hair moved to grab the rope swing first but was interrupted by another wearing steampunk-looking goggles.

After a brief exchange, the long-haired boy moved back, now standing next to a pretty blonde girl. The four of them exchanged weary glances, silently communicating after they switched places.

The goggled boy backed up several paces, then sprinted forward with a leap, launching himself from the cliff. He swung out in a wide arc, whooping excitedly. At the apex of the swing, he released the rope and landed gracefully on the far ledge.

The group stood in silence watching before they erupted in shouts at the Mount Weather sign. She sat for a moment watching the pure joy of these strangers, hesitating, debating whether to reveal herself. Her curiosity was piqued, but she knew little of their motives or intentions.

The commander sent her down here to gather information with Lincoln, both splitting up as he stayed by their camp, performing a headcount.

Y/N was impressed by his bold daring. She studied the other four strangers, wondering about their origins. They appeared around her age, and wore weird clothing, the material all cobbled together. Perhaps they had banded together after some other disaster or tragedy.

Lexa wouldn’t like any of this, dread filled y/n and she reminded herself that they weren’t going to live long after she traveled back to the capital.

Lexa was stuck in the old ways, never straying from harsh and outdated rules placed by their grounder society. Not that Lexa could change anything, if she allowed these invaders to live, her people would see her as weak, and she couldn’t have that.

Y/N couldn't help but smile as she observed the scene from her hidden vantage point among the trees despite her thoughts.

In that fleeting moment, with their guard down, she saw only vibrant youth, not strangers to fear. She remained hidden for now, but hoped someday their paths might properly cross if fate worked in their favor.

But their happiness was short-lived, shattered by the sudden violence that erupted as a spear was hurled at the unsuspecting boy. His friends' screams pierced the air, echoing with terror. She quickly sprang into action, leaping down from the tree with a soft thump.

Her horse, sensing the distress, whinnied softly as she approached, offering a comforting presence in the midst of chaos. With a swift pat on his flank, both of them set off back to civilization.

With a final glance back at the scene unfolding behind her, Y/N urged her horse forward, their hooves pounding against the forest floor as they disappeared into the safety of the woods, leaving the invaders and their violence behind.

…

“Lincoln?” y/n called out, searching the brush for any sign of her friend. “Lincoln it’s me.” She continued, cupping her hands around her mouth.

There was no reply except for the sound of rustling leaves and the echo of his name. She sighed, weighing her options briefly before heading back to her horse, weaving through the twisted trunks and stomping over the bed of fallen leaves and twigs.

The sound of crunching filled the open space, quickly she grabbed her bow, notching an arrow before scanning the tree line again. Lincolns burly figure melted out from behind a massive oak, his face paint smeared haphazardly across his face from the sweat and heat.

“Lincoln!” she breathed out gratefully, loosening her grip on the bow before stepping forward to greet him. Lincoln stood before her, his calm gaze surveying her from beneath the hooded cloak draped over his shoulders. “I was starting to think you forgot I was coming.”

The barest hint of a smile played across the grounder’s lips. "I am well-versed in the ways of these woods.

It is you who makes noise like a stampeding gorilla." y/n rolled her eyes good naturedly at his teasing. “"Well? What did you see? Anything we should be concerned about?"

Lincoln's expression turned serious once more as he relayed his findings. “I counted about 100 of them. A blonde girl she’s their leader.”

After their discussion, Riss gave him a nod farewell. "I should get back before the Commander sends out a search party for me too." With that, she turned and headed back through the shadowy forest, leaving Lincoln to fade back into his camouflaged surroundings like a ghost.

Y/n strolled through the bustling streets of the capital, the cobblestones echoed with the rhythm of her determined steps.

Street vendors peddled their wares, their voices blending into a vibrant cacophony of commerce. The scent of sizzling street food tantalized her senses as she navigated her way through the throngs of people.

Approaching the imposing structure of the commander's building, she felt a surge of anticipation mingled with a hint of apprehension. "State your business," one of the guards demanded, his tone gruff.

She met his gaze with steely determination, her hand resting casually on the hilt of her hidden sword. "I seek an audience with the commander. It's a matter of utmost urgency."

The guards stationed at the entrance scrutinized her with suspicion until she presented the emblem of her authority.

The guard exchanged a wary glance with his companion before nodding reluctantly. "Very well, you may proceed."

With a satisfied smirk playing on her lips, she passed through the threshold and into the hallowed halls beyond, her gaze fixed on her objective: the commander's hall.

Her steps seemed to melt into the background noise of the bustling corridors, her presence almost unnoticed amidst the chatter. With purposeful strides, she approached the ornate door, its imposing frame a gateway to power and intrigue.

With a soft creak, the door swung open, and she stepped into the chamber, greeted by a gentle breeze that whispered through the open terrace door, ruffling her hair. "Commander," she greeted, her voice carrying respect.

Lexa, seated at the head of the room, smiled warmly, her gaze flickering with recognition. With a graceful gesture, she dismissed her companions, who filed out of the room one by one, leaving the two women alone to discuss matters of consequence.

"Ah, it's good to see you," she began, rising gracefully from her chair. The room seemed to hold its breath as she approached Lexa, her steps deliberate and purposeful.

"What brings you back so early?" Her voice was calm, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity.

As Y/N spoke, she couldn't help but notice the subtle tension that crept into the lines of Lexa's face. A furrow appeared between her brows, a silent question hanging in the air. Y/N pressed on, her own resolve mirrored in the unwavering gaze she held with Lexa.

"I spoke with Lincoln," she declared, her voice steady, each word carefully chosen. Lexa leaned forward, her expression a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

The silence stretched, broken only by the soft sound of Y/N's footsteps as she paced the room, the click of her boots echoing the rapid beat of her racing mind.

As she spoke of her findings, the space between them seemed to shrink, the distance bridged by shared secrets and unspoken truths. The dance of words and emotions played out in the quiet expanse of the room, a delicate balance of power and vulnerability.

Once she finished her account, Lexa rose from her seat. Y/N observed the subtle shift in her body language, noting the resolute set of her jaw and the firmness of her posture.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Lexa said. "We must deal with these invaders if we are to protect our city from chaos."

…

Y/N rode on horseback through the lush, green woods, the earthy scent of pine filled her nostrils, mingling with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers.

The sunlight filtered through the forest canopy above, casting a warm, golden glow upon the trail as she journeyed down familiar paths - passing by small villages nestled amongst the trees.

She couldn't help but smile as she passed by, exchanging friendly nods with the villagers who went about their daily tasks. Y/n had been away from home for some time and was eager to return.

The steady clop of hooves marked the miles melting away as the trees thinned. She spotted her modest log cabin in the distance, its weathered exterior a welcoming sight against the backdrop of the forest.

Reaching the edge of the property, y/n hopped down from her steed, her boots sinking into the soft earth beneath her feet. With a gentle pat on her horse's neck, she released him to graze freely, knowing he would find his way back to the stable when he was ready.

Y/N took a moment to close her eyes and breathe deeply, cherishing the scent of pine and wildflowers. It was good to be back. She hitched up her pack and strode towards the front door, the familiar scent of aged wood enveloped her, a comforting embrace that welcomed her home.

Setting her pack aside, she moved with purpose to the corner where her woodworking bench stood. With practiced hands, she began to carve arrows, the rhythmic scrape of the blade against wood echoing in the cozy confines of the cabin.

the moonlight filtering through the canopy above cast eerie shadows on the forest floor. The night was still. Heading out into the night to gather firewood had become a routine for Y/N, a solitary task that allowed her moments of quiet reflection amidst the whispering trees. Tonight, however, a feeling that prickled at the back of her neck as she navigated the winding path.

y/n began to gather the fallen branches, a sudden sound shattered the silence. The unmistakable sound of running feet echoed through the trees, sending a shiver down Y/N's spine. Instinctively, she dropped the firewood and reached for the dagger she always kept strapped to her side.

Moving cautiously towards the source of the noise, Y/N's senses heightened, every rustle and snap of a twig magnified in the stillness of the night.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she approached a clearing, the moonlight revealing a figure hunched over, gasping for breath against a gnarled tree trunk.

Drawing closer, Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the figure of a boy, his face contorted in pain and exhaustion. His clothes were torn and dirt-streaked, his hands clutching at the rough bark for support.

"Who are you?" Y/N's voice cut through the night, a mixture of concern and caution lacing her words. The boy looked up, his eyes wide with fear and desperation, a silent plea for help etched in his gaze.

Her body subtly leaned forward, indicating her readiness to assist if needed, while her hands hovered near her sides, poised to react to any sudden movements.

The moonlight bathed them in its silvery glow, Y/N and the mysterious boy stood facing each other in the heart of the forest, the boy steadied himself, before sucking in a breath and speaking.

"I could ask you the same thing.” He replied, the boy's voice was deep and raspy, his words were slow and deliberate, as if he was rehearsing a speech.

Their gaze locked in a silent standoff, a sudden eruption of yells in the trig language pierced the stillness of the woods. Y/N huffed, a hint of sarcasm coloring her tone. "Those your friends?" she quipped, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. John shook his head.

Undeterred, Y/N pressed on, her voice firm yet tinged with intrigue, the trees towered above her, their branches creaking ominously in the gentle breeze.

"Who are you?" she asked, her curiosity driving her forward. The rustling leaves and distant echoes of the forest seemed to hold their breath, waiting for John's response.

After a moment of hesitation, John relented. "My name is John," he admitted. His voice was calm now, yet his eyes were a little wild. He looked like the man who had been on the verge of being killed, his head bowed in prayer.

"I can help you, John," she said, Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine as she looked into John's eyes. They were deep and piercing, like two black holes that seemed to suck her in. She couldn't look away, even though she knew she should.

John hesitated, unsure if he could trust her. But the thought of surviving in this harsh new world was too tempting to resist. "Okay," he said, his eyes darting between y/n and the area where the voices came from.

"I'll follow you." He approached her cautiously, keeping a safe distance. Y/n nodded, a look of satisfaction on her face. "Good," she said. "Let’s go."

…

Y/N and Murphy made their way back to her cabin, the shadows of the forest casting long, eerie shapes on the path ahead. "I need you to help me gather resources," she said.

"Food, water, weapons. Whatever I need to keep me alive. And in return, I will keep you safe from my people." She stated, looking back at Murphy as she climbed the steps to her door.

John nodded, his heart racing but he knew he had no choice. "Yes," he said, his voice firm. "I'll do it. Whatever it takes." Y/n could tell he wasn’t sure about his own agreement but kept walking anyway, opening the rusty door and entering.

Murphy hesitated at the threshold, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily, a flicker of fear betraying his tough exterior.

Y/N chuckled softly, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Come on, it's not a trap," she reassured him, her voice warm and inviting. Murphy stepped inside, the cozy interior of the cabin enveloping him in a sense of unexpected comfort.

The aroma of cooking rabbit wafted through the air, a tantalizing scent that stirred memories of simpler times with her family. Y/N moved with practiced ease around the small kitchen, spooning steaming stew into an old wooden bowl before handing it to Murphy.

He accepted the bowl gratefully, the hunger evident in the way he practically inhaled the hearty meal. Y/N watched him silently, her gaze lingering on his worn appearance and the shadows that clouded his eyes.

"What happened to you, John?" she asked, her voice soft yet probing. The question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications.

Murphy paused, setting down the bowl with a nonchalant shrug. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you.” he replied through gritted teeth. “Let's just say I've had better days."

…

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twirlywhirlywriting · 1 year

Text

Masterlist

This is my masterlist of my own writings. As of right now, I don't have very many but there will be more to come!

John Murphy (The 100)

Little Tease (Smut)

Good Girl (Smut)

What Would I Do Without You? (Smut)

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things)

Consequences of Being a Brat (Smut)

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inmyownlaine · 1 year

Text

John Murphy x Reader: Only Me

Warnings: Weapons, threatening death, cussing, angst

Word Count: 1494

Part: 1 2

Series: Enemies to Lovers Trope

Summary: Murphy’s kind gesture in the bunker has thoroughly interfered with your cold attitude and you couldn’t be more upset. Confronting him only makes it worse, causing his friends to jump in on the insults. However, Murphy reminds them that only he gets to talk to you that way. No one else.

────────────────────────────────────────────

You wanted to tell. Never in your life did you think you would want to divulge such insignificant information. Surviving was not about the pitter-patter of your heart. It was about keeping it intact, protecting it with layers of armor, shooting anyone that threatened it.

The only problem was you didn’t have anyone to tell. Which, of course, confused you. So what if you were a tad vindictive? And callous. Maybe even bitter. But only just a smidge! If people couldn’t look past your absolutely awful qualities and see the sliver of graciousness that oozed through one singular pore then that was their problem.

So instead, you let it burn inside you. The secret festered and boiled, creating a bubbling sensation in your stomach, like a rancid potion in a rusty cauldron. It was enough to spend the majority of your lunchtime stabbing at the food instead of eating it. Imagining that it was Murphy, wishing he had never been kind to you. If he had just left you alone, you wouldn’t feel this way.

Then you could stab him in peace, rather than feeling the twinge of guilt for pretending the fork was going through his pale skin.

A trio of girls walked by. You watched dreamily, a curled fist resting under your chin. Their long locks of hair billowed behind them, cascading in waves down the middle of their back. Even with their dingy clothes and dirty nails, they paraded down the pathway with pouty lips and sultry stares.

But they smell awful you thought, nose wrinkling in disgust. And their hair had to be just as gritty, if not worse, than yours. They weren’t any better than you. They just had the confidence to pretend.

You straightened your back, realizing how deluded you were being. Their portrayal was all fake. They had to put on a show. But you? Your iron fist on every single person, item, and decision was irrefutable. Everyone did what you said, when you said it. Whether it was from fear or anger, you couldn’t care less.

Swiping the hair from your eyes, settling it behind your ear, you regained the part of you before the bunker. All it took was diving into a good, old-fashioned passtime of yours. Comparison and judgment made the world go round. And besides, everyone needed it. How would they ever know their place?

Yes, things were starting to fall back into place.

And then Murphy trudged into the room.

You hunched over, captivated and breathless at the fluency of his steps. His shoulders followed in graceful tandem, swinging in time with his hips. Murphy was poetry in motion. Of course you could tell, being such an avid consumer of Dickinson and Keats.

Not.

You averted your eyes, coming face to face with the endless woods; silence and nature being your only two companions. This was how you preferred it. The trees never questioned you. The cloud never made you feel inferior. A beautiful hush never broke your heart.

This is how you preferred it.

Right?

The sides of your head started to pulse, like the kick from a pistol. It reverberated and rang across your entire forehead, down the ridge of your brows and inside your eye sockets. Nothing was going to solve this except your sleeping bag.

You tossed the leftover food over your shoulder and pushed off the ground. Although, your plans had some competition. With Murphy sitting in your path, chatting to a few of his equally disturbed friends, he was unknowingly fighting the bed for your attention.

This was going to be the easiest thing you’ve ever done. It was as simple as placing one foot in front of the other, acting like you never noticed how incredibly gorgeous he looked with his fresh new wounds, and traveling to the only destination you intended. Everyone knows that sleeping is more important than boys.

You swerved around his group, desperately battling the urge to see if he was watching you. If he even knew you existed.

“Look away,” one of the boys suggested. Fair enough.

“Wasn’t even looking,” another replied. Okay, that was a little much.

You cocked your head in their direction. A snide remark just itching to escape your dehydrated lips, but catching behind your teeth. You couldn’t even form the words to be rude when Murphy was in your line of sight. And he wasn’t even doing anything. Just sitting, minding his own business, and definitely not worrying about you.

But that didn’t matter. Murphy was like…

God, you needed to read poetry.

Ew, what?

“Need something?” Murphy questioned. His eyes were like - they were blue - like - blue…berries! And the way his hair fell past his eyes, parted down the middle, was - attractive. But like, a lot. The shoulder pads on his jacket were spiky. There. That was all the description anyone needed of him.

And really the only thing you could provide.

“Not from you,” you snapped. But then you thought about it. “Actually, yeah. Stop inserting yourself in my life.”

“I’m - not?” he said slowly.

“You’re in my way. Always.”

“Since when has that been a problem for you?” Murphy jeered. “I thought you liked a little challenge. Speaking of which, I think you’re overdue.”

“For what?”

His blueberry…His eyes shimmered with mischief. It reminded you of the glint that reflected off his favorite blade. One that your throat had grown so accustomed to. A sinister thought sprouted in the recess of your brain as you found yourself wishing he would, just to be pressed against you. To touch you, breathe down your neck, make every hair on your body stand at attention.

Would he notice that you would inhale deeply? Not out of anguish, but just to take in his full scent. That his warmth would be the cause of your rapid heart instead of the adrenaline of near death? You might even expose yourself further, rolling your head to the side, trying to lay it next to his cheek…

“Looks like you already know,” he said to you.

“Try me.”

Murphy began to rise, but the boy to his left stuck out his arm. This caused a red alarm to set off in your mind, blaring and flashing with urgency to take action. Without hesitation your gun was aimed, looking down the sight. Murphy didn’t seem too impressed, shoving the hand away.

“I’ll take care of it,” his friend offered.

“Not a chance,” Murphy told him.

“Come on, man. We could end this right now. All of us. We could kill her and no one would bat an eye. No one would care. We might even get a reward.” He chuckled as he said the last part, smug and reckless. He didn’t deserve poetry. He was every bit of phone directory. Useless beyond imagination, full of information that exactly zero people cared about. Just as worn down as the revolting yellow pages, yearning for a time when someone would find convenience in his miserable existence instead of immediately tossing him to the side with all the other nugatory things.

“Quit,” Murphy demanded.

His friend didn’t understand. He scoffed at Murphy, copping an attitude while his tongue grazed over his teeth. “I don’t get you.”

“There’s nothing to get. Just shut up.”

“I’m not saying anything you wouldn’t say!”

“That’s the point, jackass,” Murphy growled. His voice rasped, like the crunching of large gravel. Every single microscopic entity that occupied your body zinged off your bones, your veins, your skin. You felt a flush starting at your toes, crawling up to your face. In the pursuit of playful threats, Murphy made you feel visible. Which, turns out, was not the best look on you.

“You don’t get to say those things to her. Only me. Got it?”

Got it. Got it, bad. Murphy wanted to say something else to you, but there was no time. If you couldn’t outrun your feelings, the least you could do was outrun him. Try to place as much distance between the two of you before you started replacing all the knife scenarios with his hand.

God. Murphy could slam you against the wall with no trouble. Those slender fingers would grasp your neck, digging in his nails so hard they left crescent moons. Splotches of purple and blue would appear around them, painting a stunning portrait of the nighttime sky in the shape of his hand.

He would be proud of it, too. After all, it’s not too often that an artist creates a masterpiece. Let alone one that he could perfectly replicate repeatedly, and for the canvas to never tire of the same patterns and colors.

It was too late. There was nothing left for you to do. And there was only one person that could fix this now. You burst into Clarke’s tent, startling her enough to make her draw her gun. “I need to know poetry. And you’re going to teach me.”

────────────────────────────────────────────

In my feelings, per usual. Massive shout to ryaniq.aep for creating edits that make my heart soar. Season one Murphy is too much to handle.

Look forward to the third part of this little trope series soon! I hope it’s okay that the reader is more on the chaotic side, I’ve actually really enjoyed writing for someone a little devilish. Their internal thoughts kind of crack me up.

Xx Lainey

#john murphy #writing #love #the 100 #john murphy fanfic #the 100 fanfiction #john murphy imagine #john murphy x reader #john murphy fic #the 100 fanfic #the 100 x reader #the 100 imagine

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your-nanas-house · 4 months

Text

Family or more

◇ Pairing: Emma Skillpa X fem!Reader, John Skillpa X fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: passionate kissing, multiple personality disorder, fluff, angst, friends to lovers

◇ Summary: Y/n spends Christmas Eve with the Skillpa.

◇ Note: Another collaboration with @mrkdvidal1989. Fic of the new "event" 'From love to Love'!!! He wrote most of it... sorry, man.

She took a deep breath, holding her coat tightly closed to her body, a basket with food lazily hanging on to her arm.

The cold wind kept blowing right in her face accompanied by relentless snow, as she stood in front of the Skillpa’s house.

It was Christmas Eve so there was no one out in the streets but there she was, looking around with her body nearly frozen. A deep reason behind her gesture.

That day was way longer than she'd like it to be, as she yawned covering her face.

Nothing was happening, time in the bank flowing lazily with a couple of customers coming in every now and then.

Looking around she noticed only two workers sitting by their desks, talking and servicing customers.

It wasn't surprising, since the town wasn't big by any means. Barely ten thousand residents.

Getting up, Y/n straightened her back looking at her coworkers. Each sitting behind their desks, separated by little walls.

After a second she could see the jet black hair peeking from behind the thin wall.

A smile appeared on her lips before taking the right direction to head towards John's desk.

”Hey Johnny” She spoke up, startling him a little as he jumped in his seat. His brown eyes scanned her face before letting out a breath through his mouth.

”Y/n” He breathed out. ”You scared me.” he murmured softly while lowering his gaze shyly.

She giggled hearing his slightly shaky tone.

He was always like this, ever since she met him as a teenager. Quiet and not very outgoing, keeping to himself. Not bothering anyone.

Her eyes wandered around their work place before stopping back on the shy man

“Any plans for today?” she asked, playing nervously with the ring she was wearing, not taking her eyes away from him.

“Are you.. And Emma going to do something special?” Y/n asked with a kind smile, nodding at a coworker as he passed by… still waiting for any reply.

John shook his head slightly, stopping to work to look shyly at her, his gaze a bit low.. not really meeting her own “Nothing special, we planned just a dinner. She will cook… just an intimate and cosy thing.” he informed her with a tight lip smile.

Y/n nodded, still playing with her ring as she weighed her options, knowing well how John's disorder worked. Gulping through the knot in her throat, she gathered the courage.

”Can… Can I come too?” She whispered quietly, offering a small smile “I could help Emma with the food.” Suggesting quietly, she moved closer, looking him in the eyes.

John moved around, uncomfortably before she put a hand on his shoulder.

”I… I don't know.” He stuttered out nervously, running a hand through his hair. Y/n knew what was going through his head. He was wondering if Emma would like that, but… but Y/n knew that John would spend Christmas all alone. Without having any family members and friends, he'd have no other choice…

”Come on, Johnny. We're friends. Emma likes me too.” She encouraged him like she always did, being a little playful to gain his small, shy smile.

Getting up from his chair, John straightened his back, gaining a few inches to his height before looking her in the eyes with a smile.

”O..okay” He nodded, chuckling before she went in for a hug, embracing his thin silhouette.

Her feet started to bring her closer to the front door, her mind racing as thoughts filled her head. Who was going to open the door? Emma… John? She never knew what to expect while coming over, but that day.. was important. She had to, Y/n encouraged herself quietly.

Two knocks and quick but soft, muffled footsteps approached the door.. her heart beating faster with anticipation, her hands shaking slightly.

“Yes?” The front door opened, Emma tilted her head, watching her carefully, kind of surprised and confused “Hi, dear” Y/n smiled sweetly, looking her up and down “You look amazing! I love your dress and hairstyle” she complimented, entering the house after the woman smiled confidently while locking the door behind her “Thank you”.

The two women stood in front of each other, Y/n looking awkwardly before handing her container with food. Emma smiled back, a little unsure but grateful before letting her in.

She walked quickly to the kitchen, putting the basket on the counter, ready to prepare all the food and the table.

“What are you doing?” Emma asked quickly, staring at her curiously, a glimpse of annoyance in her brown eyes. Her hands on her hips and her head tilted in a scolding way “You are a guest, I can take care of this, honey. Go sit in the living room” she ordered with a soft scowl, still smiling to appear kind. ”John is getting ready, he will be down shortly.” She added.

Y/n nodded quickly, not wanting to upset her or anything so she headed to the living room, removing her coat before sitting on the sofa with an empty stare.

Her leg kept bouncing up and down, trying to keep the ticklish sensation under control.

The whole atmosphere in the house was always the same, but.. even after all those years, she still felt kind of scared but fascinated… and the feelings she had for John were stronger than any kind of fear she ever felt around Emma or him.

After seeing that the brunette woman prepared all the food, she could hear her steps on the stairs. Heels clicking against the wood as she climbed them quickly with grace. Unmistakably Emma.

With a smile Y/n waited for John, not too long, because only a couple minutes before the black haired man came down. His brown eyes lighting up as soon as he noticed her by the table. His footsteps were rather different from the ones before. Heavier, yet less confident and slower.

“Hi, John” the young woman quickly greeted, getting up with a brighter smile “You.. you look good” she complimented softly, knowing well that he was far too shy to compliment her first without being uncomfortable. She had no intentions of making him uncomfortable in any way, today.

“Thank.. you. You look beautiful as well.” He replied with a nervous chuckle before sitting by her side, glancing around the room before his chocolate eyes settled on her face.

“Thank you” she smiled, looking at how his Adam’s apple moved as he gulped nervously, his hands rubbing against his thighs.

Seeing his nervous gestures, Y/n chuckled quietly, getting his attention as he looked at her with a smile.

”What?” He asked in a shaky voice, making her shake her head lightly. ”Nothing, Johnny. Maybe.. maybe we should open the wine I brought? Emma left it on the kitchen counter.” She suggested biting her bottom lip nervously, earning a quick shy nod from him.

John got up, heading to the kitchen before he froze for a second, turning around.

”Shouldn’t we wait for her?” He asked, making Y/n’s heartbeat faster for a moment. Shaking her head lightly, she replied.

”Um… no, no.. she went upstairs to get ready, you know.. ladies need time to look beautiful.” Y/n said, trying to sound confident.. which apparently worked as he nodded, quickly heading to the kitchen and popping the wine open, followed by her.

His shaky hands reached for two glasses, filling them with the poisoning drink, handing it carefully to her… watching her sip before doing the same.

They kept looking at each other awkwardly while drinking, her gaze on him as he started to wander shyly, stopping on the ceiling… causing her to look there as well.

As the lighthead that she was, Y/n felt light and chatty after a barely couple sips of the strong wine, making John smile shyer as he watched her become bolder.

Her cheeks became more flushed, eyes more shiny as she chatted about the funny story she had.

Suddenly stopping with her words as John let out a relaxed laugh, one that she never heard before. Shaking his head he kept chuckling before turning his head, as he noticed that she didn't continue.

”Huh? What?” He repeated, cheeks turning red as well at the sudden attention he had from her side. Noticing the warmth in her stare, he almost squirmed.

“Nothing, just… love your laugh.” she whispered with a soft smile, moving closer to him while putting the glass down on the surface. John’s eyes scanned her shyly, his body moving carefully backwards till he gathered a bit of boldness, enough to take a step forward so that Y/n could now reach for him.

He gulped softly, watching his lovely friend as she admired his face, her hands rubbing his arms carefully, as to not startle him, while leaning closer and closer. Her breath now caressing his pale face.

”Wh..what are you…” John whispered, trying to stutter out a coherent question but stumbling over his words. Y/n smiled lightly, looking in his beautiful brown eyes before tilting her head up, and looking far above their heads with a chuckle.

”Look up.” She suggested quietly, which he.. eventually did.

A mistletoe, hanging right from the ceiling. John furrowed his eyebrows with a tight lip grin, trying to remember when he put it there. After a couple seconds realising that… it must've been Emma.

His brown eyes lowered slowly, jolting softly when she moved her hands on his narrow hips, her nose brushing against his.. the bold feeling taking over her body and mind, combined with the wine she drank, creating the confidence that usually would never come to her.

“Tradition, hmm?” Y/n whispered with flushed cheeks, looking for approval in his eyes before letting her gaze fall on his pink lips.

As soon as she moved closer, almost touching him… John's world stopped spinning for a moment. Waiting with anticipation for the upcoming moment, he froze, breathing deeply through his slightly parted lips.. before feeling hers on his own, fitting so perfectly like they never parted. Like they were made to kiss and never stop.

Her lips were soft against his, her movements slow… his eyes fluttered shut, stopping his attempt to reciprocate for a moment, as anxiety pierced his mind really quickly.

Only when Y/n’s hand pulled him closer, John let himself relax into the kiss, sighing quietly before he kissed her back, as well as he could. The sensation was very overwhelming, in a couple seconds John felt… a little weak, his mind becoming distant before suddenly blacking out, almost like he fell asleep.

Y/n’s eyes widened as she felt his hands move towards her hips, grasping them roughly before pushing her on the counter. Kiss becoming deeper, more passionate and bold.

His hands moved, letting his arms hold and hug her smaller frame while his lips moved quickly down her neck, making her shiver and squeak softly.

“John—” she breathed out, trying to push him softly away from him “So eager” She added, her voice filled with surprise at his unexpected behaviour.

A nervous giggle escaping her hips, feeling pretty shy now that he was acting that way… another squeak left her mouth as his hands grabbed the flesh of her ass while kissing her passionately.

“Slow!... Slow down” she shied away, meeting his gaze… both breathing heavily “Sorry, darling” a more feminine voice replied. Her brown eyes checking her out as she bit her bottom lip, nibbling on it softly not noticing or ignoring the shocked expression on Y/n’s face.

“Some more wine? Or do we start the dinner?” she asked her with a soft smile, pecking her lips again before walking back to the counter to prepare the things.

A soft smile on her face till she turned back around, meeting Y/n’s eyes “Come on, honey” she smiled brighter, making the young woman blush more before moving quickly to help her with the table.

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@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

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huntingingoodwill · 1 year

Text

she came in through the bathroom window

masterlist

send in requests for my 1.3k sleepover!

requested by: @zablife + anon (thank you so much for your request!! i hope you don’t mind that i merged the requests, i was just stuck on this idea and wanted to write it!)

“They went that way!” The man’s voice, raspy and shaking with rage, boomed down the street. Shouts echoed down the empty lanes, the street desolate in the dead of night, save for you and John ripping through them. Hand in hand, your shoes slammed against the ground as you ran for your lives.

The two of you turned a sharp corner, your heels skidding against the pavement as John led you, ducking into a narrow alleyway. The beads of your dress clattered frantically against one another as you ran. You remembered now, choosing this outfit before your performance. It was perfect for dancing, the material swishing hypnotically with every action. It was beautiful in movement, as it was now, running through filthy, cramped backlanes from scary men intent on hunting you down.

“Here! Quick!” John hissed, yanking on your arm.

You stared up at the window before you, a square of golden light falling from it onto the ground below, illuminating the two of you, panting from exertion and glimmering with sweat.

“Isn’t that breaking and entering?” You puffed.

“The window’s already open! We’re not gonna be breaking anything! Besides,” He said, hands already locking around your waist, lifting you toward the sill as you gasped, “My brother lives here, so it’s not really breaking and entering. We were just in the neighbourhood and wanted to drop by. A friendly visit, right?”

“Right.” You grunted, swinging your leg over the sill. Your foot sought purchase on the other side, your shoes hitting the inside of a porcelain bathtub. You slipped into the bathroom past the window, reaching out to help hoist John up as he pushed himself inside. You grabbed him by the collar, shoving him next to you in the cramped bathtub. The two of you lay beneath the window, listening out for the shouting of the men chasing you. Your chests heaved and you felt his heart thrumming steadily as you lay against his chest. His hand lay next to yours.

You heaved a breath of relief, turning to smile at John as soon as you were sure the coast was clear. The tip of your nose ghosted his, a wide grin growing on his face.

“Thank God. That was a close one- oh shit!” You screamed, bolting upright in the bathtub as you caught sight of the silhouette in the bathroom doorway.

Tommy Shelby stood, gun trained on the bodies in his bathrub.

“Christ Tom, it’s only me…” John grumbled, sitting upright. He slid out of the bathtub, helping you to your feet.

Tommy sighed, the hint of fear in his eyes replaced quickly by agitation that glazed over his steely blue gaze.

“Care to tell me why you’ve broken into my house, John?” Tommy gave an exasperated exhale, putting his gun back in its holster.

“Well, it’s not really breaking in if the window’s open-” You began, trailing off when John turned to you, shaking his head frantically.

Tommy’s dark eyebrows furrowed, squinting at you as his gaze ran over you, elegant but dishevelled in your glittery dress and smudged makeup.

“(Y/N)?” He asked.

Now it was your turn to examine him, eyes narrowing as you scanned him up and down.

“Tommy!” You said, recognition washing over you. “I thought you looked familiar.”

“Wait, you two know each other?” John asked.

“Yeah.” Tommy said, his voice uncharacteristically soft and characteristically dismissive. “You look…” He began.

“Different?” You laughed. “A lot has happened since we last met, Tommy.” You smiled, and from across the room, in the soft light of the bathroom, it was like you were transported back to that time, when he caught your eye across the room at the party at your parents’ manor. He was rough around the edges, standing out from the crowds of clean-cut aristocrats that glittered as they glided through the room- you being one of them. “We have so much to catch up on!”

“You could start with why you’re here.” He said.

“We have plenty of time for that!” You said, flouncing past Tommy, out of the bathroom and into the living room. You sunk into the plush sofa in the middle of the room, kicking your shoes off and digging your heels into the lush, expensive carpet. “I’ll have a glass of water, please, Tommy darling, all that running has got me dying of thirst.” You sighed, finger running across the fringe adorning an ornate lampshade.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. I’ll do it myself!” You exclaimed, strolling toward the kitchen as you held out your hands defensively. “D’you want anything?” You threw the question over your shoulder at an astonished John and Tommy as water splashed into your glass.

“An explanation.” Tommy spoke.

You took a gulp of water. “Your brother’s a hero, Thomas.”

“Oh, stop it.” John said, almost bashful as he dismissed your compliment.

“Yeah. Stop it.” Tommy deadpanned.

“I had just finished a set at the club.” You pictured yourself, just a half hour ago, hopping offstage, beads of sweat dripping down your neck, that light, happy feeling that came after each show shimmying its way through your body. “I love walking through the crowd after a show. It’s so fun, talking to all those customers.” It was fun having lots of free drinks too, sitting at tables that roared with laughter at every joke you made. “But this brute I had bumped into accused me of stealing his cigarette case! Little ol’ me!” You exclaimed, hand falling over your heart in mock shock. He had annoyed you, that man, flecks of spittle gathering in the corners of his mouth, his big, awful face turning red as he screamed at you. “John tried to tell him to piss off, but all of a sudden, there were four of them! So he brought us to this safe haven.” You smiled, arms lifting to gesture around Tommy’s apartment.

“So, you’re a dancer now?” Tommy asked, tone betraying his curiosity for you, a person so different than the shiny, posh thing he’d met a year earlier.

“I’m the best.” You grinned. “I’m sure you know, though. I remember you quite liked it when I danced with you.”

“I did.” Tommy said in his matter-of-fact way, and you knew he was telling the truth. “But it’s different from dancing at those upper-class parties your parents used to throw, isn’t it?”

“Yeah! It’s way more fun.” You laughed. “And I don’t have my parents staring over my shoulder, worrying the Blinder devil I was dancing with was gonna steal me away. Those parties can be so boring without a gangster to add some novelty.” You remembered now, how Tommy was probably the most interesting dance partner you’d ever had, so much better than the long string of bores your parents approved of. He danced much better too, the only man who could keep up with you as you swayed through the room.

“I don’t think your parents approved of me. But, I don’t think they’d approve of your line of work, considering it involves scary men chasing you ‘round town.”

“S’all bullshit.” John mumbled, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Those assholes were looking for trouble, accusing you of that.”

“Yeah! Total bullshit!” You laughed, hiking up your skirt. The cigarette case gleamed, tucked into the top of your stocking as you pulled it out, the metal clanging on the counter as you placed it down.

“Oh.” John said.

“Seems the rich girl’s picked up some bad habits since running away from home, eh?” Tommy said, a smile playing on his lips.

“Sticky fingers.” You shrugged. “My talents are wasted at the club, honestly.” You sighed, melancholic. “There, you just get cigarette cases, flasks, a watch or two. I could be earning so much more.” You sighed, placing a hand on John’s chest, drooping toward him, as if you were wilting from distress.

“Really?” Tommy asked.

“Really! In fact, you Blinders could use someone like me.” You said, grabbing Tommy’s arm emphatically. “My talents can be quite valuable, y’know?”

“Really?” John said, not convinced.

“Really.” You grinned, lifting your hands. In one, was John’s watch, the other, Tommy’s cigarette case. They frowned, grasping at their pockets, eyebrows creasing as they came back empty. They hadn’t even noticed when you nabbed them off their person.

“So?” You smiled, handing them back over.

Tommy took out a cigarette, running it over his lips in contemplation.

“I could dance at your clubs too. People would be lining up ‘round the block! You’ll get a pretty nice cut from that.” You added.

“No, not at our club.” Tommy said. You frowned, confused. “Sabini’s club.”

“Sabini?”

“Yeah. And instead of stealing cigarette cases and watches, you could steal from his office instead.” John said, picking up where Tommy left off.

“What, like a spy?” You said, heart fluttering with excitement. Espionage sounded strangely glamorous, a remnant of your boring childhood, where you could only be placated by reading exciting stories, the words removing you worlds away from your sheltered, beautiful, but dull little bubble. “How much would I be paid?”

Tommy leant in, his breath ghosting the shell of your ear as he whispered the amount. Your eyes lit up.

“I’m in.”

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby fluff #john shelby #john shelby imagines #john shelby x you #john shelby x y/n #john shelby fic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #cillian murphy

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pherelesytsia · 9 months

Text

Who did this to you? - 9

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend’s house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Warning: fear, anxiety, Angst, swearing

Word Count: 2.7k

Part 8

Chains, bloodied and graced with torn rotting flesh, moulding in the light of the wanning moon, dangled in all directions in the howling wind. Bones cracked under polished shoes freckled by grime and coated with rotting leaves. The lightbulbs among the broken were shining faintly, breaking the doom, the utter darkness ruling in the endless corridor leading into different vacant rusty halls.

The wind was howling, a lonely wolf, a hound greeting the full moon. Water dripped through the holey ceiling of metal and musty wood. The old building, far away from civilisation, with shattered windows barricaded by boards was surrounded.

The man clothed in a form-fitting suit didn’t bear a map, didn’t need a compass to find the right path. The faint stench of mould lingered in the stiff air. Rats fled in great haste, screeched and warned the brothers hiding in the holes in the ground and empty chests. A few dark grey strands illuminated the dark sea. Untroubled Thomas followed the path. His fingers tapped against the polished metal. He did not put his gaze over his shoulder, focused on the light showing the end of the tunnel. Deep hush voices exchanged brief words and the grin on his lips widened, thought of ways to harm the men who had dared to touch his wife.

Thomas tilted his head. The light hit the tip of his shoes, but the Shelby, a demon, the devil himself waiting patiently, remained in the shadows. Deftly, he leapt to the side, hiding behind the cargo crates stacked high from India, Africa and the far East. Footsteps echoed and a soft whimper, a kitten, a newborn calling for its mother, fell silent. More men, dark dressed creatures, followed the order with drawn weapons and waited for the signal. Thomas leaned forward, peering through the crack between the crates. Two men, shabbily dressed, stood in the light of the flickering yellowish bulb, but his keen eyes couldn’t find the source of the whimper.

“The money?” the thinner one pecked, wiping the oil from his fingers on his trousers.

The taller one laughed, folding his arms in front of his bulging chest.

“The woman will pay us off. I called her. By the end of the day, we’ll get the money.”, “We should have killed his wife right away,” the other said, leaning against the cargo boxes.

“Karl, I would have killed her, but the other guy came. We would have died otherwise. I know him, Solomons. He would have killed us,” he interjected.

“And what are we supposed to do now, Jimmy?” Karl questioned.

“And what will happen to us, Karl?” Jim asked.

Karl shrugged his shoulders. Eyes widened in shock, screams followed, bullets pierced flesh and grazed bones. Men in suits stormed the old run-down complex, a tsunami swallowing villages and towns. Closely followed by his men, Thomas entered the room, stepped closer with his gun drawn, fired and hit the bull’s eye, ran ahead, searched and cursed, but didn’t find the woman. Sweat cascaded his face, turned, and hoped the men could answer his questions, but the eyes had paled. Cursing, Thomas stared at his brothers opening the crates in the hope of finding Peggy in one of them.

“Where is she?” Arthur asked, heaving.

John cursed, nearly fell into the crate. Perplexed, he stared into the distance, cursed under his breath, turned with paled features towards his brothers and mumbled a short prayer.

The moon wandered on, over land and mountains, on and on, climbing hills and swimming over lakes and raging streams. Under the cover of the moon, ghastly shadows crept forth. Light burned in the mansion far away from civilisation, from towns and villages. The vehicles parked in front of the mansion were not neatly lined up. Curtains were drawn and didn’t allow to witness the people warming themselves by the flames, gnawing on the hardened biscuits and awakening the sense with the dark unsweetened liquid. The phone didn’t ring, and the bell didn’t announce a guest.

The clock was ticking, heels clicked against the creaking hardwood. Voices had died down, the women did not chatter as the gentle voice breathing delicate word into the microphone sang of love and gentle kisses. The women exchanged meaningless glances, glanced at the man they thought would never enter the house, who had settled down by the fireplace and was leafing through the book with his legs crossed, staring again and again at the doors and windows in search of grim faces pursued by evil intentions. Y/N warmed her fingers on the cup filled with tea and dipped her tongue in the warm liquid.

“Don’t worry, they will be here soon. It’s just a matter of time. Don’t worry, my dear.” Ada breathed.

She flashed the shaking woman a smile, breathed encouraging words, but they couldn’t banish the fear from her heart.

“They’ve been gone for a long time. At least three hours now.” Y/N breathed.

“You worry too much Y/N/N. The Shelby can take something. If he’s not here by seven, then we’ll go looking for him together.” Alfie joked.

Y/N stretched her arms into the air. Sleep gnawed on her bones and the voice in her head assured her that all would be well, that Thomas was on his way back, that the door would open soon and he would stand with Peggy and a promise to change by her side. She counted the seconds, focused on the clock, yet Y/N had lost track of time and space a long time ago. Her eyes widened. The tiredness was gone with the wind. Groaning, Y/N jumped and threw the blanket away. A wall, the last wall of defence rose in front of her and a palm settled on her back.

“Come, little one. We will go together. You stay here. I have everything under control. I saw a car.” Alfie said.

Y/N tried to argue, telling him to stay with the others, that she wanted to go alone, but no words crossed her lips and nodded. Alfie smiled, gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, stuffed his gun into the pocket, and guided Y/N away from the richly set table. Keys jingled. Alfie pushed Y/N behind him, but the young woman went ahead. The cold air brushed her skin and painted her cheeks. Brows almost touched. Y/N looked questioningly at Peggy, shook her head, and lips parted.

“Peggy?” Y/N whispered, not believing her eyes, convinced she was about to awake from a dream.

She looked healthy. Not a drop of blood clung to the long white evening dress, looked like a woman on her way to church to walk down the aisle. The hair was laid in curls, dotted with pearls and glass shaped in tears. The bouquet, white and red flowers fell to the ground. A smile, false as a fox’s, sweet as a snake’s voice, spread on her lips.

“You’re well?” Y/N questioned.

“Why shouldn’t I be well? I am glad to see that you are well. I see nothing happened to you while I was away. I told you to wait for me at home. I could never have forgiven myself if something bad had happened to you.” Peggy spoke coldly, stoically, emotionlessly.

“Where’s Thomas? He’s out looking for you. I was worried about you.” Y/N uttered.

Spreading her arms, Y/N wanted to enclose Peggy in a tight hug, but fingers clawed deep into the thin material covering her, forcing her to stagger backwards.

“Alfie, can you please let go of me?’ Y/N demanded.

Y/N turned and stubbornly demanded to be let free, but Alfie shook his head.

“Why do you have to make everything more complicated? Get in there and don’t do anything stupid or you’ll all regret it. Are we clear?”, “I wouldn’t do that.” Alfie interjected. He removed his hand from the pistol and rose his hands into the air after he pulled Y/N closer to his chest.

“Peggy?” Y/N breathed, hoped the person bore a mask, but it was Peggy.

Colour drained from her features. Cold metal pressed deeper into her skin. Bloodshot eyes forced Alfie to step back and told him not to dare to waste a single thought about doing something he might regret. Questions nor curses crossed Y/N´s lips pressed into a fine line. A lonely tear cascaded down her left cheek and left a red burning mark on her skin. Y/N questioned her life, every decision she had made, every word and complain she had said to Peggy in hope she would aid her. Synchronically, Ada and Polly arose, aimed, but no shots pierced the air. Peggy chased Alfie away to stand by the wall and he listened and placed the weapon on the ground as the women as Peggy stood tall behind the crumbling shield.

“Why?” Y/N inquired, her heart bursting through skin and bone.

Peggy laughed and combed through Y/N´s locks with her long light-coloured nails.

“I should be in your place. It would have been so easy. But those idiots let you get away and then you were at my door and I just had to let you in. I called these fools. I knew they would be at the bar, and informed them that you were with me, that they should walk in and take care of you. I then set off here, wanting to inform all of you that something might have happened to Y/N. I would have taken your place, but this man had to interfere with my plan.” Peggy joked.

Her bloodshot eyes slid from one person to another and pointing her finger at the tall man settling down on the armchair by the crackling fire.

“How would you have done it? The Shelby wouldn’t have to believe you. Nobody would have.” Alfie questioned, with his arms crossed in front of his body.

“Nobody? Suddenly everybody was searching for Y/N. When I returned home, she was gone. I am a good actress, I had classes when I was young and played in the theatre, always the evil and wicked,” the woman huffed.

She chuckled.

“Thomas would have believed me. I would have played the good friend, helping him through this rough path. I just wanted to play the worried friend. I would have helped to find Y/N and then after a good month the case would have gone cold. The postman would have brought a letter from overseas and the problem would have been solved. Thomas would have found a good friend in me and later a wife,” she sneered.

“But they trashed your house.” Y/N breathed, eliciting a malicious laugh from the mad woman.

“I was a bit angry and had to let my anger run free. My plan was perfect.” she huffed, stroking Y/N’s skin with the weapon.

“You wanted to kill me?” Y/N breathed.

“No one cared about you, you told me everything, your former husband barely cared about you, you slept alone, spent your days alone, were air for everyone, I didn’t expect anyone to care about you.” Peggy laughed.

Y/N gulped, nodded, and breathed a soft prayer, prayed for the safety of all of them a few steps away from her.

“A confident woman. Why would I marry you?” a deep voice sneered.

Smiling, Peggy turned around, fixed her hair and let go of Y/N, but she was rooted into the ground, turning into a statue overgrown by moss.

“All these months you’ve been using me.” Y/N

The veil fell, and the wind carried away the dense mist. Y/N balled her hands into fists, nails bore deep into the soft flesh, but no sound escaped her lips. She faced Peggy, unfearful of the weapon in her right hand.

“You never told me to give Thomas a chance, to at least try to get along with him. You never said anything nice about him. When he gave me flowers or chocolate, you told me he’d cheated on me and feared I would find out.” Y/N whispered, her voice raising with every fallen word.

She remembered the forgotten, the lonely nights, the long calls, the endless hours spend in the small room and crying her heart out to the wrong person, hoping Peggy would help her like only a friend could.

“We spoke on the phone when Thomas didn’t come back that evening and instead of telling me that he must be working but you swore on your parents’ lives that you saw him in the arms of a woman.” Y/N cried out.

Y/N faced her friend, unfaced and untroubled by the loaded gun.

“I suppose that was a lie, too. Probably everything you told me was a lie,” Y/N whispered.

She remembered the nights she was pouring out her heart and the answers that were as false as the snake’s words. She raised her eyes and looked up at Thomas. The man swallowed, saw the questions in his wife’s eyes and smiled.

“I was never unfaithful, Y/N. I was a terrible husband, but I was always faithful to you,” Thomas assured her.

“I believe you,” Y/N whispered, but Thomas had heard the answer.

Y/N advanced, oblivious to the woman in the wedding garment, wanting to go towards her husband, but Peggy made it impossible for her to do so, getting in the way.

“Enough of this sweet talk.” Peggy chuckled.

Metal dazzled the eyes. She grabbed Y/N by the collar, scratched her skin, pressed her tightly against him. And the men and women, apart from Thomas, recoiled with their hands up. Thomas stashed his hands in his trouser pockets and nodded, guessing what she would demand.

“You let me out and nothing will happen to her.” Peggy requested.

The Shelby nodded, exchanged brief glances with his brothers.

“Good, go, you know the way. You hand Y/N over to me at the door. I leave my gun here and you put yours away. Do we understand each other?” Thomas spoke.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands here, Thomas, but I’ll take your offer. But I want them out of here. I want them all out of here in the kitchen.” Peggy interjected.

Thomas gestured to his siblings to leave, nodding, indicating that they should be on their way, that they shouldn’t worry, but his eyes betrayed him. Slowly, they rose from the sofa and did as Thomas ordered them again to leave. Heels clicked against the hardwood. Hush voices exchanged words, and the door slammed shut.

“Can we go?” Thomas probed.

Thomas walked ahead, showed the way, paused at the open door, pushed it wide open and motioned the woman to leave. His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to free Y/N from the woman’s clutches, heard the soft whimpering as Peggy grabbed her former friend. Teeth gritted. Peggy stopped and turned with Y/N.

“Here you go.” she shoved Y/N in his direction.

Y/N staggered forward, threatening to fall like a soldier, but arms wrapped tightly around her body, pressing her tightly to his chest. Thomas breathed loving words into her ear, pressed his dried lips on her skin and pressed featherlight kisses on her cheek. He murmured a prayer and begged for her forgiveness. Sweat danced down his face. He pressed another fleeting kiss on her temple. Thomas put his hands over her ears, deafening her to the screams and bullets piercing the air and suddenly, after all this time filled with screams and prayers, silence reigned over the land.

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