#sorry not sorry that my mind turned to john wick immediately

[willsimpforazula]

Sokkla Sat 2022 Week 2: Assassin Azula ends up saving Sokka's life

yes ik issa sunday, hush child.

anyways...i think i understood the assignment correctly (?)

if not, well there's always the sokkla smut, plus i am as rusty as can be when it comes to writing.

ain't life's a biatch. but anyways you aint here to read my bitching so on with the story

************

Sokkla Saturday 2022 Week 2: Assassin Azula saves Sokka's life

Bedroom,

Safehouse

Agna Q'ela

Watching his chest rise and fall, Azula wondered if bringing him to her place was a mistake. Especially when just three days prior, she bought a ticket to Agna Q'ela for the express purpose of claiming his life and cashing in a fourteen million dollar paycheck. Nothing personal, just business. And yet, here she was, sheltering someone who had committed the cardinal sin of performing business on Continental grounds, for which there was only one method of atonement: death.

The fact that he had made it this far without incident (that she knew of) spoke volumes to the fact that he still was not someone to take lightly despite having been supposedly retired from the scene for the past ten years. Ten long years in which his moniker of the Ijiraq was spoken off in hushed whispers around private tables at many a Sankan establishment, his deeds taking on mythical status as he too became myth.

Yet now, the Ijiraq was here in the flesh, no longer words on paper but a real physical being and she found herself hopelessly taken by him, even if his already battered body now sported more scars and scrapes, the largest of which ran across his abs after some amateur decided to toss their hat in the ring and attempted to blow up Sokka and claim the reward for themselves. Deciding that sleeping on the bed was much more comfortable than on the chair or sofa, she threw caution to the wind and crawled up next to him, letting sleep wash over her after expending countless hours fixing every gash and scrape on his body.

The first thought that hit Sokka as he slowly came to was the fact that one of his hands was bandaged, whilst the other was definitely tangled up in some female's hair. Steadying himself with deep breaths, he slowly looked around before settling on where his other hand was entangled in said female's hair. 

"Su-Suki?" he whispered hoarsely. In response, the head on his chest stirred slightly, to which Sokka realised that it was not, in fact Suki laying her head on his chest but rather someone else. Taking a few more deep breaths to calm himself down, he tried to recall what had happened yesterday, only to find that he could only remember bits and pieces.

Shaking his head, he opted to kick that particular can down the road and instead figure out who the mystery girl was and how to extricate himself from under her. Clearly, she wasn't of Water Tribe stock, which left either Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation that much he was certain. Gingerly, he lifted the hand that was slung over his chest when he noticed the beginnings of a tattoo on her wrist. Flipping it over, he saw that it was a red and blue dragon intertwined around twin lightning bolts.

Why does this tattoo look so familiar?

Where have I seen it before?

Caldera? Fire Fountain? Ugh my head hurts.

Placing the arm back down, he took in his surroundings, looking for something that could conceivably be used as a shank. 

Just in case. 

Soon enough, the mass of hair rose from his chest to reveal two amber eyes staring back at him.

"Good morning?" he ventured.

"Mmm..seems like it. You sleep well last night?"

"I…my head hurts. Wait…why am I naked?"

"A bit too late to be bashful now, isn't it?" the mystery girl smiled and Sokka felt his heart skip a beat at how incredibly beautiful she looked, the way the soft streams of sunlight made her face glow much like a princess. Immediately, a wave of guilt hit him like a freight train as he felt he was disrespecting Suki's memory, a small frown appearing on his face that she immediately picked up on.

"What's wrong?"

"No-nothing…just…never mind. Did-did we do anything last night?"

"Chivalrous aren't you? Nothing happened between us last night, if that's what you're concerned about."

"Your sheer nightgown seems to suggest otherwise."

"Like what you see?"

"Perhaps, though as it stands my heart already belongs to someone else."

"Then we'll just have to keep it a secret."

"The only way to keep a secret between two people is if-"

"- One of us is dead. Heard it a million times before."

"You're not from the Continental, are you?"

"The Continental? What's that?" she feigned, praying he didn't ask further

"Nothing-just..I don't want someone as pretty to get caught up in my problems. It never ends well."

"I can take care of myself, you know. I'm not just a pretty bimbo."

"Clearly, you aren't. After all, I doubt some airhead knows how to perform field surgery." he replied, pointing to the neat row of stitches that ran across his abs.

"Whoops, guess you caught me. Whatever shall you do?" she teased.

"Whatever shall I do, huh? Spirits, you have no idea…."

"What's the matter, did my beauty break your brain hmm?" she teased, snuggling closer to him as Sokka felt her hand wander dangerously close to his groin area.

Throwing caution to the wind, Sokka murmured a private apology to Suki and cupped her face with his good hand, bringing her in for a searing hot kiss as she cupped his member and began to stroke, making him groan in pleasure. Breaking their kiss, he slipped a hand through her nightgown and returned the favour, finding her already wet for him.

"Someone's been a very naughty girl."

"You're no goody two shoes yourself…" she panted, as Sokka's fingers moved from teasing her clit to entering her. With each searing kiss, more of their clothing ended up on the floor till all that was left was their birthday suit. Sitting in between his legs, Azula drank in his body, starting from his rugged looks down to his lean physique, culminating in his rather large member that she knew would definitely have her waddling like a newly hatched turtleduck by the end. 

"Like what you see?"

"I could ask the same about you."

Cautiously, she climbed on top and began to tease him with each snap of her hips, the entrance of her folds teasing his head. 

"Mmm, just like that princess, just like that." he moaned, hands caressing her hips as he let her find a comfortable pace. 

"My eyes are up here, Sokka." she panted, as she tracked his deep blue eyes that settled on her breasts, which swayed back and forth as she rocked her folds across his member.

"I suppose it can't be helped, the way your tits move is just…hypnotizing."

"Bet you can't wait to see them bounce when I ride you into the ground, don't you?"

"It's that obvious?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

"Just the words I was waiting to hear."

Wrapping her hand around his cock, she positioned her entrance and slowly took him, a satisfied purr escaping her as Sokka filled up every inch of her, hitting all the right spots that made roll her eyes when she finally sank down to his hilt.

"Agni you're big." she breathed. "Need…a moment."

"Take your time, princess, whenever you're ready. We've got all the time in the world to do this right."

If only you knew Sokka, if only you knew. Azula thought to herself, as she rocked back and forth in a steady trot, every moan and gasp that escaped her lips a sign telling her just how fucked she was. Clasping her hand in his, he guided her to her left breast, giving it a rough squeeze and a tease that only served to reinforce that inconvenient fact.

"Oh Sokka…soo good..you're going to make me cum…Hnnnggggh.." she whispered sultrily, as her muscles tightened and she soaked his member in her love juices. While she was recovering her breath, he moved her hand from its perch on her breasts down to her sex, where he toyed and rubbed her clit while he bucked into her, seeking to give her a back to back orgasm.

"So tight and wet, just for me." 

"Y-y-yes…. oh Sokka there, right there-" she moaned, her back arching once again as he catapulted her into another wave of orgasmic pleasure, leaving her only capable of fragmented speech and soft pants. Sitting up against the headboard, he pulled her in close and peppered her face with tender kisses that left her wanting more.

"You close?"

"Mm hmm."

"Me too, princess, me too." he breathed into her ear, giving it a small nibble that set off tingles down her spine. 

"Cum for me Sokka, cum for me…..please…"

"Wh-where?"

"Do you really have to ask?" she huffed, as she wrapped her legs tightly around him.

"I don't want to-"

"Shhhh, not now. Don't ruin the moment, please." Azula replied, before capturing his lips in hers, their tongues exploring each others' mouths as Sokka responded to her needs by pulling her in close and wrapping his arms around her back, locking her in position.

With one last thrust, Sokka went in as deep as he could before releasing his seed in her and setting off her orgasm, her muscles greedily milking him dry as she too smothered his cock in her own wetness. Holding each other in their arms, both of them buried their heads in the crook of the other's neck as the post coital haze descended over them.

"You know, I never really got your name, princess."

"Do I really need to when you can call me princess?"

"It's only fair, you did ask for mine after all."

"If you insist, you can call me Sakura."

"Sakura huh… a pretty name for a pretty little dragon like you."

"Thank you." she blushed.

"You're not too bad yourself." 

"Just you wait."

"Is that a promise?"

"That's a guarantee, Sakura. I swear."

"You best bet I'll take you up on that." she replied, laying her head on his chest. Turning her head, she looked at the clock and sighed, the time telling them that they had more or less spent almost half the day in bed.

"Am I making you late for work?" he asked with a tinge of concern in his voice.

"No, it's fine, don't worry."

"If you say so."

Gingerly, she lifted herself off Sokka, a gasp escaping her lips as she missed having him in her already, a small white trickle running down the inside of her thigh.

Seeing her stagger to the door, Sokka was about to get out of bed when she responded "I-I'm fine."

"Shaky legs?" he smirked as he leaned back.

"Cocky aren't you?"

"I'm not the one who almost stumbled into the cupboard is all I'm saying." he shrugged. Finding no retort, she instead replied "Just…stay where you are. I'll uh..clean you up."

"Sure."

*********

Standing in the shower, Azula let the hot water splash over her as she cursed herself for falling head over heels with her target. Not only did she start copping feelings while reading his dossier, she had to go and make love to him.

Agni Azula, what the fuck where you thinking opening up your legs like some slattern?

Not everyone can say they fucked the Ijiraq and lived to tell the tale though. Besides, what's wrong with having a little fun on the job?

Everything!

"Fuck." she cursed, pounding the bathroom wall with her fist. At this rate, you might as well dig another grave for yourself, it's only a matter of time before they find out and put a bounty on your pretty little head.

"Agni Sokka, what have you done to me, you little shit?" she huffed, before slumping down on the floor, letting the shower rain on her. With a deep sigh, she turned off the shower and stepped out. Wrapping a towel around herself, she grabbed a small basin and filled it up with some hot water and grabbed a washcloth, before heading back to her room.

Stepping in, she saw him muttering something while staring at the locket that he wore around him.

"What's that?" she asked, as she sat beside the bed and wiped him down with the washcloth.

"Something from a long time ago in another life."

"Sorry."

"For what? You weren't the one who-never mind. Point is, it's not your fault." 

With that, she continued to work in silence, cleaning him up. When she brushed against his cock, she saw Sokka wince slightly.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just….well…having a pretty girl like you half naked is…well, rather arousing and um…"

"What's the longest you've gone back to back?"

"Sakura! You can't ask questions like that out of the blue!"

"Why can't I? Besides, we already had sex once, it's not like we have anything to hide."

Lies, you definitely have something to hide. He may not but you sure as hell do. When are you going to come clean to him?

Shut up self. Not now.

Dropping the towel, she once again swung herself on top of him.

"Guess we're going to find out together huh?"

"Spirits Sakura, you're going to fuck me to death aren't you?"

"Well…if that's what you want, that can certainly be arranged." she purred while stroking him in her hands, feeling Sokka grow turgid in her hands before she once again sank down on his length. 

********

"Sakura?"

"Hmm?" she stirred in his arms.

"I wasn't too rough, was I?" he asked, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

Shaking her head, Sokka continued "I wish we could just stay in this bed forever."

"Me too."

"I think…I might, no, I've definitely fallen ass over kneecaps for you."

"Must be the sex talking. After all, we did how many rounds?" she smiled, poking him in the nose.

"Don't ask me, I didn't keep track. And no, I don't think it's just the sex talking, though it certainly got the point across."

"I suppose I too, am falling for you." she whispered back, the words leaving her mouth before her brain realised what she just said.

"Well that makes two of us." Sokka replied, caressing her face.

"Should we get cleaned up?"

"We should. I feel sticky and sweaty all over. Oh, and we definitely need to change the sheets."

"Yeah."

Sliding off the bed, they both supported each other to the bathroom. Taking a seat on the edge of the tub, Sokka ran some hot water while she rummaged for some waterproof dressings. Removing the old dressings, she gently wiped it down before applying the new ones, making sure it was wrapped tightly around him. Satisfied, both of them slipped into said tub, where they immediately started to lather soaps and shampoos on the other before rinsing.

Draining out the now filthy bathwater, Sokka ran a second round, letting it rise up to his knees before shutting it off. Letting the hot water soothe their tired muscles, both of them savoured the feeling of being securely wrapped in each other's arms. As the water finally grew cold, both of them reluctantly released each other from their respective embraces and stepped out from the tub. Grabbing a towel, they both dried each other off, before slipping on a bathrobe and exiting. Making their way to the living room, Sokka heard a growl come from her.

"Hungry?"

"I wonder who's fault it was, hmmm?"

"Now now Sokka. you were just as eager if I recall correctly."

"Guilty as charged."

Clearing out the table turned operating space, Azula put back the medical supplies and cleaned off any blood stains in addition to making sure that Sokka didn't catch anything that would lead him to believe that 'Sakura' was anything but what she said she was.

"Anything in particular you're wanting ?"

"Surprise me."

*******

Half an hour later, Azula was beginning to seriously consider dragging him off to the nearest priest and making him her husband, consequences be damned. After all, not only had he shown to be far and away the best sexual partner she could ever ask for or want in bed, he was also talented in the kitchen as her tastebuds exploded with flavours in every bite she took of his food. Even so, in the back of her mind a veritable war raged between her rational and emotional selves. 

Agni Azula, are you really going to let yourself be swayed by some Water Tribesman with a big cock and chef grade cooking skills?

I'm so fucked aren't I ?

You still have time to salvage this.

But what I don't want to? 

This man is going to be the death of you.

"Sakura?"

"Yes?"

"You're spacing out again. Is something on your mind?"

Shit, he noticed. 

Gotta make a choice now. 

"No. Yes. I mean…it's complicated."

"Clearly." 

Walking over to the drinks cabinet, she grabbed a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass, downing half of it before coming back to the table.

"Are you okay? Th-"

"I'm not-my name isn't actually Sakura."

"I figured as much."

"And you're the Ijiraq." Instantly, she saw his deep blue eyes turn from an inviting cerulean to a dark angry blue.

"Congratulations, you found me." he snarked, placing his utensils on the table as he knew there was no point in trying to fight. Not when she could immediately electrocute him before he even got anywhere close to her. 

"I suppose you got the telegram from the Continental?" he asked, to which she merely nodded.

"Fourteen million dollars is a lot of money. So why-" 

"-did I save you? I've been asking myself the same damn question ever since I hauled your bleeding ass into my safehouse."

"Why even save me if you're going to kill me anyways?"

"I told you I don't know!"

"Then answer me this….do you have feelings for me?"

"Yes."

"Please don't lie to me."

"I can't, Sokka. I can't. Not about this." she choked, as tears started to form in the corner of her eyes.

"What is your real name?"

"Az-Azula."

"Tell me Azula, do you have feelings for me? Or is that all Sakura and the real you wants nothing more than to claim that bounty?"

"I told you already."

"But I want you to say it as Azula, not as Sakura."

"I do Sokka, I do. Fuck I'm so lost and confused and gah!" she screamed, hurling her glass against the wall before breaking down in tears, the waterworks coming out in force.

"This was supposed to be my last job,but you-you had to just go and make this complicated!" she sobbed.

"I don't want to kill anymore Sokka, I'm done."

"Then you don't have to."

"If-if they found out I-they'll kill my baby sister if I don't kill you. You know the rules."

"How old is your sister?"

"'Sh-she turns twenty two in two months."

"Do you love her?"

"Are you asking me to choose?"

Kneeling in front of her, he placed her hand on his chest and replied "The world would be a better place, a more peaceful place if someone like me were removed from it. But family, you hold on to that for dear life, no matter the cost." 

"I've already come to terms with my past. If I die, I'll see her again. But if I live, I'll only cause more pain and misery. You pulled me out of that bomb blast didn't you? I remember now. How many innocent people died just so some piece of trash gets a payday?"

"Sokka-"

"Azula, please, if-if you feel anything for me-no, if you love me you'll listen to me and do what I tell you to. Sacrificing your sister to spend the rest of your life with a dead man walking is pointless. There's plenty of fish out there in the sea."

"But none of them are the Ijiraq. You are one of a kind."

"As is your sister."

"There has to be another way Sokka, there has to be. I don't care how high the cost."

"I-fine. I know one last method. But first, we need to escape the city. Okay?" Getting back up on his feet, Sokka pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

"We'll make sure your sister is safe, I promise."

******

Two weeks later

Agna Q'ela International Airport

Ticket Booth

"Good morning, how may I help you?"

"We'd like to purchase two tickets to Ember Island please. First Class, if possible."

"Can I see your passports?"

Pulling out two passports from under the coat, the man handed it over to the clerk. Glancing at the couple and the passports, she asked "Sir, could you take off your sunglasses?"

Obliging the clerk, the man took it off briefly, squinting as he did before putting it back on.

"He has sensitive eyes."

"I see." the clerk replied, the scepticism evident in her voice.

"That'll be six hundred talents please."

Slipping a gold coin across the counter, the woman replied "Keep the change."

"S-sure." Hastily printing their tickets, she sent them off on their way, not wishing to draw too much trouble to herself.

******

One hour later

First Class Cabin

Airship 'Soaring Phoenix'

"Well that was a breeze. I almost thought she was going to call security on us." Sokka sighed in relief as he arranged their baggage in the spacious cabin, which afforded them not only an en suite bathroom but also a spectacular view of the outside, the former of which was paramount on their list as they wished to avoid socializing with the passengers as much as possible. After all, there was no telling if there were Continental people on board said craft.

"Now, dear husband…what shall we do to pass the time?" she teased, her deft fingers working their way into the hem of his pants.

Turning around, he tilted her chin up and replied "Indeed, my dear, whatever shall we do?", before capturing her lips in his.

#sokkla #sokkla saturdays 2022 #no prizes for guessing what they got up to in that airship #why yes this was an excuse to write smut how could you tell #guess my hands slipped #sokka x azula #sorry not sorry that my mind turned to john wick immediately #it's not like they've haven't tried to kill each other in canon before so... #but instead of killing each other they kith #which is a good thing #make love not war and all that jazz

[pherelesytsia]

Better man

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x John Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Y/N finds out that Thomas is warming another woman's bed and suddenly she finds herself in John's arms.

Warning: Fluff, panic attack, Angst, Divorce

Word Count: 1.4k

a/n: Requests are open!!!

Part One

Light seeped mutedly through the window into the barely furnished bedroom of the house at the edge of the world. The smell of rotting wood and whiskey lingered in the air. Fine dust particles danced and birds chirped, singing a delicate serenade of love and adoration conquered the morning sky, painted in bright shades.

Sleepily, Y/N opened her eyes, fluttered open, turned and closed them again in hope of finding herself in a world of lovely dreams. Silence reigned, unknown, but Y/N enjoyed the unusual peace. Shocked, she awoke, realising the room was not the bedroom she woke up in every morning. Memories rushed back, clouding her mind. Y/N compressed her lips into a fine line, saw clearly and she didn't know whether to cry or laugh, whether to be lightened or joyful, how to feel. The dreadful memories flooded the room.

Slowly, fearing reality, Y/N braced herself and lowered her gaze. No ring adorned her finger. It is not a wicked dream, Y/N thought. Nobody rested by her side, but the crumpled blanket next to her let her know that once somebody was resting near to her. She exhaled deeply, tried to find out where she was, convinced she had fallen asleep during the ride. Her gaze travelled across the unfurnished room. The door was half-open. The wardrobe of dark wood faced the window obscured by curtains, preventing her from finding out where she was. Y/N attempted to remember the events, but all she could recall was the betrayal.

Footsteps echoed. Her fingers dug into the gauzy blanket and covered her body. Fear clouded her mind. A low prayer escaped her lips. Dressed in a pair of boxers, John entered the bedroom, did not close the door. Deep in thoughts, John turned and glanced at the woman sitting on his bed, guessing she must be asleep, but he was mistaken and the young man smiled as he saw Y/N was already awake.

            "Good morning," he whispered.

He felt unsure how to address Y/N, whether he should call the woman by her name or his love, but he knew he had to give her time, saw the pain raging in her eyes like a ruthless storm.

The memories of the previous evening returned and the painful wound gaped, but no crimson oozed. Weakly, Y/N smiled, unable to understand herself, feeling like a mere fool. She was happy to be close to John, yet her heart ached terribly, realising her worst fears had come true.

Pain struck her heart like hundreds of poisoned arrows, realised Thomas had never loved her, and John spotted the sadness in the eyes of the broken woman close to crying a river immediately.

Slowly, he approached the bed, knowing exactly what Y/N was thinking. The bed squeaked under his weight. He threw the blanket to the side and settled down right by her side, but he didn't place his hands on her body, didn't know if he was allowed to do it.

            "I'm sorry, but Thomas doesn't fucking deserve you. You are way too good for him. He is a disgusting piece of garbage." John said calmly.

Y/N chuckled.

            "If you wish, we can call him. I will stay by your side and hold your hand." John breathed.

The words left a horrible aftertaste in his mouth. Nervously, Y/N played with the hem of John's shirt covering her body and shook her head in response, couldn��t pronounce the words resting on the tip of her tongue. Y/N took a deep breath, tried to be strong, knew she had to say what was weighing her heart.

            "No, I don't want to see him. I found out that my husband has been warming another woman's bed for several months. It hurts. I loved him, at least I think I did. I am glad I have found out the truth, but what are you going to do? I should be on my way, and you should apologise and hope he forgives you." Y/N interjected.

She should be happy and Y/N knew it, but the truth pained terribly, made it impossible to feel happiness or love and Y/N wondered again why she had accepted the proposal all those months ago, why she had listened to her parents.

John looked forlornly at the woman an arm's length away from him, wanting to brush away the tears sliding in torrents down her cheeks and did not seem to stop in the next few moments. Carefully, he placed his hands on hers cramped into the gossamer sheets. Gently, his fingers stroked the back of her hands, trying to loosen her firm grip, trying so carefully to loosen one finger at a time and he did not fail and as each finger was released, he clasped her hands.

Y/N felt like an idiot, a fool, like a doll, a mere replaceable object, never cherished. She didn't notice as more tears travelled down her features, didn't notice John sitting right in front of her, trying to heal her broken heart with words of love and soothing touches.

            "Y/N." he breathed over and over again.

John pronounced her name like a prayer, like a sweet melody she wished to memories and never forget. She was lost in the ocean. Her boat was shattered, had no place to call her home. The ripples grew greater; the shore was out of sight, and the eye of the storm was drawing dangerously closer.

Y/N fixed her eyes on her saviour, realising she had been crying, not wanting to cry, needing to be strong, but she could no longer fight. John released her hands and Y/N longed for his closeness, but the pleading words didn't escape, couldn't say it out loud. Lips did not touch, Y/N looked up and threatened to lose herself in his eyes telling beautiful tales of walks under the setting sun shrouding the world in a reddish veil, of beaches, and romantic dinners.

John's hands rested on her body; felt she was threatening to collapse like a house of cards under the weight of the world. Carefully, he settled Y/N on his lap. Hearts clashed. Smiling, John brushed the strands of hair clinging to her cheeks behind her ear as her vision cleared. A lovely tale escaped his lips and the melody of heart carried the pain into oblivion.

            "You don’t have to worry about me. I made the right choice. I would always choose you, my darling." John objected.

            "What did Thomas mean by that?" gasped Y/N.

John knew what she was talking about. Y/N felt how his body stiffened under her touch, but she said nothing, embraced him, forbidding him to leave her side, to leave her alone in the dimness of the world.

            "You have always loved me, but you feared my reaction. I loved Thomas yet I did not and when I told my parents that I gave my heart to some else, they told me Thomas is a better match for a woman like me, but I know now that I made a mistake.” Y/N breathed into his ear.

Through watery eyes, Y/N saw the puzzlement in his eyes, the shock, didn't believe her words but then realised there was no lie darkening her eyes, telling a lie, wasn't uttering words as sweet as nectar to befuddle his senses.

Walls crumbled.

            "Thomas meant exactly what he implied. I never found the courage to tell you how much I love you, what you mean to me." John answered.

            "Why didn't you tell me before?", "What should I have told you? I am John, not Thomas Shelby. I have money, but at the end of the day I am not him.", "You are better." Y/N whispered affectionately.

            "Can I kiss you?" John asked hesitantly.

The question was needless. Tenderly he kissed her, placing his hands on her cheeks, delicately caressing her skin, and closed his eyes, hoping it was not a vivid fantasy, a fever dream he was about to awaken.

#john shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #john shelby x reader #grace burgess #cillian x reader #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fic #thomas shelby x you #john shelby x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #john shelby x you #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders #thomas shelby fluff #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinder headcanon #tommy shelby fanfic #cillian murphy imagine #peaky fookin blinders

[samdeancass]

1.5k Follower Celebration

1.5k Follower Celebration Masterlist

Requested by @jensen-ackles-girl​

T/W​: Mentions of anxiety. 

________________________________

You jerk up quickly out of bed, hair sticking to your face with swear, gasping for air and eyes wide as you tried to will away the horrors you experienced in your mind. 

John stirs in his sleep and turns around sluggishly, his hand running over the spot where you once lay. He sat up slightly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, when he heard your heavy breathing further down the bed. Immediately, he slings an arm around your waist and pulls you close, tucking his head in the crook of your neck.

He peppers your skin with small kisses and whispers calming words in your ear until he felt your breathing begin to slow and your muscles soften against him. “I’m sorry.” He turned you around and cradled your hands in his. “You have nothing to be sorry for, baby.” 

Tears began rolling down your cheeks as the memories resurfaced once again. John gently wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb and brought your forehead to his. “You don’t have to do this alone and I won’t let you do this alone.”

A small sigh escaped your lips. “Thank you for being here. I don’t know where I would have ended up if you hadn’t have found me. You saved me, John, and I owe my life to you.”  He brought your face to meet his and pressed his lips to yours, slow and soft, running his fingers through your hair.

Slowly, he pulled away and gave a small smile. “You never have to thank me, Y/N. You are the best thing that ever happened to me and I want to spend every minute making sure that I show you just as much. I will never let anyone hurt you ever again.” 

“I love you, John Wick. With all my heart and soul.” He smiled and pulled you in for a deep and passionate kiss, laying back down on the bed and cuddling you to his chest.

“I love you to, with everything I have.” He waited until you fell asleep before slowly reaching over to the nightstand and pulling a box out of the drawer. “I’m going to be the luckiest man alive when you agree to marry me.” He put the box back, pecked the top of your head before settling down and falling into a deep sleep.

#1.5k #1.5k followers #1.5k follower celebration #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction #john wick angst #john wick fluff

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

wife wife i have no music taste, but you feel musical to me! will you drop any songs you relate to your universes stans, kyles and style in general? if not music books, other characters, pieces of media, quotes, poems? i am insatiable darling <3

YOYOYO!!!!!!

First of all hello my wife my wife the love of my life! (I did in fact ride half of my first year of college on a music scholarship)

OKAY so you know how heavily I associate Fall Out Boy with Stan in general (mostly bc I like projecting and I’m a gremlin abt fob) SPECIFICALLY Infinity On High (I know we’ve discussed this before and yes I’m still unhinged abt the 27 rm thing) AND I’ve said a LOT abt OrangeJuiceVerse Stan being musically inclined as one of his main outlets.

(I will be mainly sticking to ojv bc that do be my main focus atm)

So Stan will play literally whatever on the guitar and he can improvise SO WELL!!! Like it’s wild but he’s just like eh it’s a casual hobby but he hears a song and immediately knows the basic chord progression and bpm he’s the king of countermelodies too. Kenny will start playing something and then Stan will pop in with the most gorgeous harmonies and just…. fall in.

Stan will listen to ANYTHING he especially loves songs with a story (I’m sticking to ATLCTS for him being a Tenacious D fan bc I very much enjoy that) and Kyle, while Stan is all “LISTEN TO THAT CELLO BREAK” Kyle Is all fully into the lyricism and losing his shit about RAINDROPS ON ROSES AND GIRLS IN WHITE DRESSES AND SLEEPING WITH- (I feel like they have similar tastes but for different reasons if u get me)

My Kyle’s for sure are lyrics gremlins. Stan will be like KEY CHANGE KEY CHANGE but Kyle will be WAIT LOOK THE STORY HOLY SHIT SYMBOLISM(smh they whole ass watch musicals together and neither of them stfu) (losers)

(This is unhinged I’m eepy) so song specific idk man but I feel in my soul that Stan’s hopeless romantic ass serenades Kyle on a regular basis ESPECIALLY when he’s in an Emo Boy Mood like this man thinks he’s Orpheus or something ALSO Stan is incredibly specific about having certain playlists for every single situation and the “Super Best Spicy Time” playlist is INCREDIBLY LAME!!! (I’m talkin Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls and Mr Brightside was playing during their first time) like they are losers your honor

On FOB Stan I’m currently specifically feeling him with What A Catch, The (After) Life Of The Party, From Now On We Are Enemies, Golden, Fame< Infamy, The (Shipped) Gold Standard, She’s My Winona, Disloyal Order, A Little Less Sixteen Candles, Heavens Gate, SOPHOMORE SLUMP IS SO STYLE OMG

Sorry that was a lot I’m very passionate abt the fob Stan thing

EVERY LAME ASS SAPPY LOVE SONG IS EXTREMELY STYLE TO ME!!! If We Were Vampires by Jason Isbell, I’ll Follow You Into The Dark by Death Cab For Cutie, LINE WITHOUT A HOOK?!? Nothing Matters But You by The Young Veins, Northern Downpour and When The Day Met The Night by Panic, I Think I Love You by Tenacious D, All I Ask Of You from Phantom (btw I saw someone draw a style phantom of the opera au it slayed so hard), Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John (there’s this scene in a fic I read where Stan plays it for Kyle on his guitar and I lost my mind), ofc Carry On Wayward Son, Accidentally In Love by the counting crows, Turn Off The Lights from the Vices and Virtues bonus tracks, As Long As You’re Mine from Wicked (I feel like Kyle fuckinh loves Wicked) All I’ve Ever Known from Hadestown.

OJV Kyle for sure listens to the acoustic versions of pop songs and is SUCH a sap (he won’t admit it as much as Stan tho) like he’ll pause a song after a particularly clever or romantic line and just be like DID YOU HEAR THAT! Stan writes songs every once in a while and whenever he writes for Ky he always tries to paint a story because that’s what Kyle likes help I love them so much

As for other media I associate w the boys, bruh lemme tell ya the sp brainrot is so real I physically cannot watch or read anything without imagining a couple as style (literally last night my partner and I were watching the picture lock of the last feature we worked on and I’m over here looking at the two main characters like hmm who is Stan who is Kyle I’m the WORST)

Bill and Teds Excellent Adventure is so Them to me holy shit like best friends getting into situations and being obsessed with each other I love that shit (u can’t tell me Bill and Ted aren’t in love)

This comes as no surprise to anyone but Lord Of The Rings for sure, especially since i decided that they speak elvish to each other on the regular

I’ve also said it before but!!! As a massive PJO/Riordanverse fan, THEY ARE SO PERCABETH CODED!!! We got Stan/Percy as the reluctant hero who everyone looks to, Kyle/Annabeth as the badass short tempered voice of reason, like DUDE.

(Also I hope you know how much your fics have influenced my mindset like I’ll drive past Taco Bell and be like o look style moment and I saw Fireball at the gas station and thought abt rm Stan)

Anyway this is long as SHIT I’m completely insane it’s fine THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK ILY

#this took 80 years I got distracted #WHAT A KICKASS ASK!!! #south park #style #them #I was so stoked to get this tho omg #EVERYTHING is Stan and Kyle to me like deadass I’m crazy #everyone say thank you Nina

[dancingintheraindreamingonday]

A little wicked - Chapter 9

Author’s note: This will probably be the last chapter of my Bucky series. What a journey. Thanks to everyone!! 

Warning: Huge plot twist, that even I haven’t seen coming when I first wrote the story.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

„Do you wanna live in Delacroix?“, You ask Bucky as you set the table for dinner. 

“Why are you asking?”

“I saw how much you enjoyed your time there and we’re still looking for a house. So...why not looking there?” 

After you got kidnapped in your old house, Bucky refused to live there again. 

“I thought you loved the city life.” 

“I don’t really care anymore where we live as long as we live together.” 

„I’m really lucky to be your husband.“, Bucky kisses you but stoppes as he receives a call from Sam. „There was an attack at the GRC conference. Sam needs me.“

„Go. Be safe. And kick their asses.“, you smile weakly as Bucky leaves your flat. 

As soon as he left, you check your phone seeing the messages you received, warning you about the upcoming attack hours ago. 

After making sure that Alex is safe and he’s taken care of you leave your apartment as well. A car is already waiting for you, taking you to the building where the conference is being held.

~*~

You’re standing in the shadow watching Sharon, Bucky and Sam talking. You know that Sam and Bucky will have each other’s back. That’s why you only observe Sharon and eventually follow her. 

Batroc points a gun at Sharon demanding more money. Morgenthau points her gun at her too. 

You curse under your breath as you come out of your hiding and without any warning you shot Batroc straight in the head without shaking. Sharon and Morgenthau shot each other while the later is deadly injured. 

“You are a great actress, Sharon. I’m really impressed.”, you say as you put your gun away. 

“Why didn’t you tell me your plan? I warned your days before the kidnapping that they will come for you. I don’t understand it.”, Sharon got shot in her stomach, breathing hard. 

“I knew Hydra would come- sooner or later. They wanted Alex to experiment with. And I also knew Valentina would think you’re the Power Broker and wanted to work with you. Thats why I spoke on your answering machine. So that you could gain her trust. That James and Sam found it was a coincidence but you played along. Really good. So when they came to kidnapp me, I offered myself. And they couldn’t believe their luck. Pregnant, vice-director of Shield and the wife of the winter soldier. I knew they would take me and experiment with me with their last serum they got. The last serum because the others got stolen and I knew Zemo would kill the doctor eventually. They wasted their last serum on me without knowing I’m immune. And when they think you’re dying they tell you everything. I needed that information about Valentina. It was definitely worth it.”

You look on your watch.

“Sam will be here any minute so I better be going. You...” you look at Sharon “will stay here in the city. I have a little present for you in the next days. And you...” you look at Karli “You shouldn’t have stolen the serum from me. And you shouldn’t have fight James. Killing the other super soldier wasn’t my plan in the beginning. You’re just a means to an end.” 

You walk away and leave the hall before Sam sees you. 

~*~*~

Cameras and lot of people were standing and watching Sam reasoning and convincing the GRC. You pass the police officers as they prevent the crowd to come even closer. „Did you write that down first or was it off the top of your head? Spoken like the true Captain America.“, you smile as you walk to the men. „Ah. Director Barnes, good seeing you here. There’s lot to talk about after todays event.“ The man says after he shakes your right hand. „And we will.“, you lay your left hand on top of his while still shaking. „(Y/f/n), what are you doing here? Does Bucky know you’re here?“, Sam looks at you suspiciously. „SHIELD is always there where bad things happen.“, leaving the equivocation unanswered. 

„Excuse me, I need to make sure that the remaining terrorist are safely escorted to jail.“, and with that you turn around but not walking to the cars where the rebels are in but to another car in the shadow. A man walks up to you with a little device in his hand that looks very similar to a remote. „Thanks, Stan. Good work. See you later.“ You say as you take the device and walk further. You knock at the car window and open it. „Do you want me to press the button or do you want to do it yourself?“, you say in perfect German. „I’ll do it on my own.“, answers the man in the car, taking the device and presses the button. The explosion is huge and lightens up the inside of the car your inside. „Good. Very good. We’re even.“, says the man. You smile knowing that James is finally off Zemo’s list. You sacrificed the flag smashers for James, but you don’t feel any remorse. You would do anything to protect your family. 

~*~*~

„(Y/f/n)!“, James shouts. He’s running and looking for you in panic. „James, I’m here.“, you scream back as you run in his direction. „God, (y/f/n), what the fuck are you doing here?! It isn’t safe here for you. For you both.“ Bucky looks at you and on your stomach. „When Sam told me you were here and the car exploded, I thought… I thought…“ He can’t finish the sentence and you hug him tightly. „I’m sorry. I didn’t want to scare you. I’m here as a representative for SHIELD.“

„Sharon’s here. I’ve heard she will stay in town.“, Bucky grunts still not forgiving her. „I know. I forgave her. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trusting her, but I know the bad influence Madripoor has on people. Maybe she will change.“, you lie.

„Your kindness always amazes me.“, says Bucky as he kisses your head. 

~*~*~

Three days later you open the door to your office. A small brown package is on your desk. You open it and as you realize what it is you can’t help but smile. Inside of the package was the book „The prince“ by Machiavelli. It’s the same book you sent Zemo some time ago. You open it and see Zemo’s graceful handwriting One is controlled but the other is still standing

You know immediately who Zemo is referring to. Bucky and Walker.

When you found out that HYDRA is working on the serum again, and when you stole it and then the flag smashers sole it from you, you knew it was just a question of time till Zemo will be out of jail and take a side. And you wanted him to be on yours. So you visited him and made sure that you both are on the same page- that the other super soldiers have to die but not James. You made clear that Bucky wasn’t a threat. That he’s broken trying to make amend for his killing. That he has settled and there is no need for Zemo to kill Bucky. And Zemo liked you- you were both born in Leipzig and you both had difficulties to cope with loss. Two smart minds wanting to destroy the serum.

You take the book to your bookshelf making a mental note to visit Zemo in the Raft.

Someone knocks at your door. Sharon Carter. 

„They offered me full pardon.“, says Carter as she walks into your office. „I know.“ You say. „I wrote the text that the senator read aloud.“ 

„So, I’ll be working in my old division?“, asks Sharon. „No. Thats not happening, Sharon.“, you laugh.

„But I’ve got you a job that’s even better. You will work for SWORD. Its an extra-governmental intelligence agency. Probably you’ve heard about them. Their former leader Hayward was a pain in the ass. Like Pierce 2.0. I’ve heard Fury wants to work there and because of his relationship with Valentina, I’m not trusting him at the moment. So you will work there and keep an eye on everyone. Oh and I hope you told your assistant that the super soldiers are off the menu. But there are other things we can offer.“

„I already called her about that. But there is still one question I have. How did you become director?“

You smile wickedly. „Well, the arrogance of men never ceases to amaze me. When Sam gave the shield away it was just a question of time till they demand a new Captain America. And everyone wanted John Walker. Received three Medals of honor, good looking and a soldier who does everything  what is commanded than rather what is right. I didn’t like him. James told me years ago, that you can see madness in people’s eyes and man, his eyes were full with madness. So I didn’t agree with the board but the director and vice-director both has to agree. So I made them an offer. I told them that for this voting they can outvote me if everyone on the board agrees with our director. And if Walker does his job well I will leave my position. But if he fails, I will be the new director. All they did was laugh at me. They of course outvoted me and they even planned my goodbye-party. And I just waited and waited. And with Walker being so unstable I didn’t waited for long. And now I’m here and the director is gone and most of the board members as well. Arrogance is dangerous. Never estimate your opponent.“

„So where is Walker now?“

„I’m not sure but I’m pretty certain that he’s with Valentina and they are up to no good. Valentina wants James dead and Walker wants Sam dead because Sam is the new and definitely the better Captain America.“

~*~*~

A week later, you, Bucky and Alex are sitting in the car heading to Sam’s home town. The letter from Tony is laying in your purse. The envelope is still sealed but the answer in it isn’t unknown to you. You’ve known the answer for years, never telling anyone, not even James. People would be intimated if they’d known your heritage- your dad’s and your mom’s. And you learned that being an intimating woman only makes men defensive and its hard to work with them. Men need to feel strong and useful and that’s your strength. You always know how to make men feel that way around you, even it it’s just an illusion and even now that you’re the director they don’t feel intimated and that makes them careless and easy to read. 

„I never felt so much happiness than in this moment right now. It feels like a new chapter is starting.“, you grin at Bucky caressing his cheek. His five o’clock shadow tickles you and he leans against your hand. 

„Falling in love with you in Bucharest seems like so long ago. It’s been so difficult, James. This is a dream come true. Having a normal life with you is all I’ve ever wanted.“

Bucky stops the car in the middle of the road. He bends over you, kissing you possessively and pressing you against your car door. „You’re my home, (y/f/n). You’re my constant, my hope, my life and my family. Being loved by you is the greatest gift.“ He kisses you again, trailing soft kisses on your neck. 

You giggle freely and even though it arouses you tremendously you stop Bucky. „No sex in the car, while Alex is still here.“

Bucky grins playfully as he starts the car. „We will continue this later.“ 

~*~*~

Sam’s hometown celebrates the new Captain America and as Bucky arrives they also celebrates him as the white wolf. 

You danced and talked and ate and forgot everything you’ve ever done for the sake of your family until you receive a text message from Stan, who is securing the surrounding. Fury’s on his way to Delacroix. Accompanied by Hill and Dave. 2 minutes.

Dave is a co-worker of you. Of course he doesn’t know anything but his betrayal angers you anyway and there will be consequences.

„Is that Fury? What is he doing here? And why does he look so angry?“, asks Bucky Sam. Bucky hands you Alex over, who was relaxing on Bucky’s shoulders and both men are walking up to him, ignoring or maybe just forgetting that it is you who holds the most power and the reason for Fury’s visit. 

Everyone is underestimating you just like you’ve always wanted. 

  @inlovewith3 @jackiehollanderr @homesicam@dreamydreamerwriting @losers-club6 @gengen64@agentsofsheilds @crimson-darling @akkinda10 @xemine@bubblegumholland @chipilerendi @iamasimpingh0e @bbmommy0902 @madddiiee26 @teenagedreams-bucky @aya-fay @idontknowwhatthisisfam @w-wolfhxrd @useless-creature-213   @angywritesstuff @supernaturalcat7 @harrys-stan @geek-and-proud @pastel-boy-sungjae @austynparksandpizza @maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals  @teenagedreams-bucky @auds24 @ah-blossom @supraveng @lady-loki-ren @freakyhood96 @bbl32

#sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes feels

[nugnthopkns]

i’ll tell you i was wrong if you dance with me

word count: 3.3k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, slightly unhealthy relationship moment (lack of communication), mention of infidelity, cursing, alcohol consumption, a fair bit of angst

recommended listening: fred astaire | adam brock

a/n: communicate with your partners!!! also yeah this is the song from lady bird. it’s a banger

This seriously isn’t happening. 

You never fight with Travis. Communication comes easy between the two of you, but you also make it a priority to talk about your feelings. It keeps things from boiling over; both of you are known to unleash wicked tempers on occasion and have found being direct stops issues from occuring. Arguments still occasionally happen, but they’re typically over trivial things like what movie to watch or where you’re spending the holidays. Travis apparently forgot about the fact you talk to each other about things. 

He’d been upset when he came home from practice, but you were pretty sure he was fine after he woke up from his pre-game nap. Knowing he’s a superstitious person and has a lot of pressure on him to put up points, you had made the choice not to ask about what was bothering him. Throwing off his routine could have detrimental consequences. Tonight's game is tighter than it should have been, but the Flyers come out on top. Travis spends a bit more time in the penalty box than you would have liked, but everyone was getting chippy by the start of the third period. Claude tries to talk to him on the bench but he gets shut down. Whatever Travis was upset about before is still clearly bothering him, and it’s affecting his game. 

You’re following Travis home from the game, and can tell he’s uptight from the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. As you wind through downtown Philadelphia you try and prepare yourself for any bomb that could drop. Chances are that when you reach your apartment things will explode. Maybe it’s nothing; Travis is fine and just wants to be a responsible driver for once. You pull into the free spot beside his car and see him walking towards the elevator, suit jacket balled up and tucked under his arm. This won’t be good. Trying to buy yourself some time, you take the stairs. Seven flights later you arrive outside your door; he left it unlocked, which gives you a sliver of hope things will be fine. 

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” you call into the darkness of the apartment. Your sneakers are left at the door and to retreat towards the bedroom, looking for a sign of life. You find one in the bathroom: the light is on. A gentle push on the door reveals your boyfriend is in the shower and ignoring you. 

“Trav?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, words muffled by him tossing his head back to rinse the shampoo of his hair. Apparently the shower isn’t as relaxing as he had hoped. 

You don’t bother to tread lightly, upset that he’s acting like a child. “You’re being an asshole. I get that you had a bad day, but you can’t take it out on me. I just want to help.”

Travis turns the water off suddenly. “Can’t help if you’re the problem,” he scoffs. 

His statement doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing out of the ordinary the past couple of days; nothing that would warrant the behaviour you’re receiving. “What do you mean?”

Shouldering passed you to exit the room, Travis doesn’t bother to respond. You’re beyond frustrated: partners in healthy relationships communicate, not show emotions like grade schoolers. “You’re not giving me the fucking silent treatment Travis. You gotta talk to me.” The bedroom is dark when you enter and you flick the overhead light on to see better.

“You really don’t know?”

“Of course I don’t know,” you seethe. “If I did know we wouldn’t be in this predicament because we’d be solving the issue.”

The glare you receive is sharp enough to cut stone. He pulls on a t-shirt, anger clear in the aggression he does it with. “Why did I have to find out from Carter that you’ve been getting coffee with your TA?”

You’re shocked. In no way is it what he thinks it is. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you sigh, upset that Travis would take someone else’s words at face value and not talk to you about it. 

“I’m dead fucking serious Y/N. You preach communication, but it looks as though you’re the one who hasn’t been doing enough talking.”

The room around you starts to spin. You can’t comprehend what he’s insinuating. “Wait, you think I’m cheating on you?” you ask. There has been a gross miscommunication error somewhere; never in a million years would you think of having an affair.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well what the fuck did you say?”

Travis tugs at the roots of his hair in frustration. He doesn’t answer immediately, pacing the length of the bed a few times. “I just–” he struggles to articulate his words. “I just said that you’re being a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? You’re standing here yelling at me because I didn’t voice my concerns, but you haven’t been talking to me about what’s going on in your life.” Travis’ tone is sharp, and it stings. 

It’s your turn to show how upset you are. Your hands curl into fists at your side, and you squeeze your nails into your palms before releasing them. “I do tell you what goes on in my life Travis,” your breathing ragged as you try to not lose your cool. “I ran into my TA at the coffee shop yesterday, and he paid for my drink because my card wouldn’t work. Didn’t think it was breaking news, sorry I don’t send you every single fucking life update that happens. What’s gotten into you?”

“You could have been cheating!” 

“But I wasn’t!” you scream, no longing caring about keeping up appearances. You can’t believe Travis would think that. It hurts. “And I never would! You know this”

He turns his back to you, like it pains him to look at you, but you don’t understand why. You're not the one suggesting infidelity. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” he seethes. 

“That’s all there is to say! There’s nothing to explain, no secret to uncover. I’m not in the wrong here.”

“And you think I am?”

You look at Travis like he has three heads. “Are you serious? You’re the one who’s so fucking upset over a situation that could have happened to literally anyone.” Your tone suggests that you’re exhausted with the conversation, and Travis gets the hint. 

He slinks towards the door, still visibly angry. “I’ll take the couch tonight,” he grits out before tightly gripping the doorknob and shutting the door with more force than needed. 

The bed doesn’t look appealing, full of much happier memories, but fighting with Travis has knocked any and all energy out of you. You gingerly pull back the covers and slip underneath. Tears trickle down your cheek as you toss and turn, trying to fall into some sort of slumber. However, your mind has other ideas, replaying the blowout. You can’t begin to understand why Travis is so bothered by the instance, and more importantly why it caused him to disregard a fundamental part of your relationship. There’s little movement from beyond the door, but you can hear the faint noise of a Johnny Cash record playing from the speakers in the living room. After hours of staring at the ceiling your eyes close and a fitful sleep follows. 

You might have gotten nine hours of sleep, but you wake up feeling exhausted. Fighting with anyone drains you, but fighting with Travis is especially terrible because it rarely happens. There doesn’t seem to be any movement from the other side of the door; maybe he’s still asleep. You refrain from heading into the kitchen, unsure of what will happen if you see him. After nearly twenty minutes you can’t wait any longer to start your day and pad into the main living space. It’s empty: no sign that Travis has been there for many hours. Guess you don’t have to immediately deal with the fallout of last night. 

A post-it note is tacked onto the fridge handle and your heart skips a beat. In Travis’ chicken scratch it reads I’ll see you at the gala tonight. We’ve got media all day and I won’t be back in time for us to go together. There’s no mention of the fight, and you can’t judge from a two sentence note whether or not he’s still pissed off. 

“Fuck,” you groan. “The gala.” Tonight’s the annual Flyers Give Back gala, and you’re expected to be in attendance. It’s not even a charity event; the organization is offering a chance for business men to chat up the players in hopes they continue to donate. You find things like these unbearable and tedious, but Travis does his best to make them enjoyable. Not knowing what page you’re on with him is going to be terrible. There’s a pretty good chance he’ll ignore you if he’s still upset. 

As if someone is reading your mind, the better halves group chat starts to explode. Everyone is chattering excitedly about tonight, and under normal circumstances you’d be excited to see them in such a relaxed setting. It’s been a while you’ve all hung out, but you can’t find yourself to contribute to the conversation. You mute the notifications and do your best to move on with your day. The rest of the morning is spent working on your thesis; mind numbing work that almost makes you forget about everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. Once you’ve hit an acceptable word count for the day you shutdown your computer and make lunch. 

The grilled cheese sandwich you eat while watching a John Mulaney comedy special fulfills your appetite but doesn’t curb your dread. You decide to call your sister, hoping she can be a welcome distraction. Dialling her number you sink further into the couch cushions, wrapping yourself tightly with a blanket so that only your head is poking out. “What’s up?” she asks, and you hear her shuffle in the background, presumably to move somewhere more private. It isn’t normal for you to call her unannounced. 

You hold it together for approximately two seconds. The tears start and they don’t stop. Every emotion you’ve felt since getting home last night comes to the surface, and before you know it you’re sobbing into the receiver. 

“Woah, slow down,” she says. “Y/N, take some deep breaths.” When your breathing returns to a somewhat regular level she continues speaking. “What happened?”

It takes you nearly twenty minutes to tell the whole story because you’re so distraught. No detail is spared, and you go back much farther than is probably needed. You recount what happened after yesterday’s practice, pretty much the entire game, and the fight that followed. “I just don’t know what brought this on,” you sniffle. “We don’t fight, we talk about things. I’m not sure if I’m more upset at what he insinuated or at the fact he broke a cardinal rule.”

Your sister sighs, and you hear her breath fan in slight annoyance. You’re worked up about something kinda stupid, you know, but you can’t let it slide. “It’s probably a bit of both. So, what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I know that we need to talk about what happened, but a public event is not the best place to do that. I also can’t not show up or ask Trav to ditch in order to figure this out. We have to be there.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out then.”

You really don’t. “What happens if he ignores me the entire night?”

She laughs and tells you to not to anything stupid, and to take your mind off of things tells you a story about your nephew eating dirt. It does the trick; you’re momentarily distracted and forget about Travis. You talk for a while longer before she has to go. “Miles is crying, will you be okay if I let you go?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. A glance at the clock tells you it’s time to start getting ready. “I’ve gotta shower and start the process. Beauty is time consuming you know.”

Against your better judgement you open your text messages to see if there’s anything from Travis. His text thread is the same as it was yesterday and you’re disappointed. You had hoped that maybe he’d get bored between interviews and check in. With no new notifications you exit out of the application and pull up a playlist you hope will brighten your mood. The steam from the shower relaxes your tense muscles and warms you up. It’s comforting in the way a cocoon is; you practically have to drag yourself out of the bathtub. 

Your bedroom is cold and doesn’t offer the same respite as the bathroom. The music continues to float in from the hallway, and you allow yourself to get lost in it. It’s been a while since you danced around your room; it worked to cure sadness when you were a teenager. Hopefully the magic hasn’t worn off. You flail your arms, not caring how silly you look since no one is here to see you anyways, and scream along at the top of your lungs. After a few songs you feel better and return to the task at hand. The dress code is labelled as ‘black tie’ on the invitation, but that isn’t what you’re worried about. You own a million dresses for situations like this after being with Travis for so long. You don’t know what he packed to wear, and there’s a decent chance you’ll be pushed together for photos. Clashing colours will look terrible.

A quick glance through his side of the closest leaves you no clues, so you decide to be as literal as possible. Black is a flattering colour and works well with every colour combination. There’s a jumpsuit hanging in the back that catches your eye and you think it’s the perfect choice. After pulling it on you move back into the bathroom to do your hair and makeup. Everything is natural and relaxed; once again for the sake of potential photos. The clock strikes on the hour and you realize it’s time to leave. A pair of heels are slipped on and you order an Uber before locking the apartment and heading to the lobby. You had thought about driving yourself, but on the occasion that things don’t end well with Travis you’ll probably have more than a couple of drinks. 

The entire way to the venue your leg bounces up and down. It’s been years since you’ve been this nervous about being around the team. You’ve been with Travis for a few seasons now, and the organization has become a second family to you. No one is going to know about the fight and you worry they’re going to talk about your solo arrival. The outside of the convention centre is sharply decorated, and your driver lets out a low whistle at the extravagance of it all. “Thank you so much,” you gush, and exit the car. Thankfully no photographers are set up outside, and you dart inside without being seen. 

Once in the main event space, you scan for the bar. There’s no sign of Travis, which should make you more relaxed but doesn’t. What if there was an accident on the way to the venue? You have no idea where he was all or who he came with. Overthinking distracts you from your original goal, leaving you standing aimlessly in the middle of the room. 

“You look like you might need one of these,” Ryanne chuckles, handing you a champagne flute. You gladly accept and down it in two gulps. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, eyes scanning to see if your boyfriend has made an appearance. 

She sees right through your facade of calm and wraps you in a tight hug. “What’s going on?”

For a second time today you explain what happened last night. There’s no judgement from Ryanne as there might have been from your sister because she understands. Dating a professional athlete isn’t easy; things like this happen much more frequently than you’d expect. Perhaps it’s all the time spent apart that makes the occasional lapse in communication so apparent. She listens quietly, full attention on you. To your credit you don’t cry this time, slightly more numb to the situation to due more time passing. It still hurts a tremendous amount. 

“He’ll come around,” Ryanne insists. “TK is a little moronic sometimes, but he’d never jeopardize his relationship with you. You’re quite literally the most important thing in his life.”

 “I know. I’m just upset because the whole thing could have been avoided.”

She offers you a sympathetic smile. “I know.” Ryanne links her arm through yours. “Let’s go find something to snack on.”

You spend most of the night with Ryanne, and occasionally Claude when he can get away from the hot-shot businessmen. Travis eventually came in, flanked by Nolan, but was immediately pulled into the politics of the night. The two of you occasionally sneak glances at each other and you tell he’s uncomfortable. You can only hope it isn’t because of your presence. It’s nearing eleven; the party has become a much more relaxed affair, and the DJ is playing sappy love songs in an attempt to get the media team some good photo ops. An intern asks the Giroux’s if they’ll dance for an instagram story and they both look hesitant. “Go on guys, I’ll be fine,” you reassure. It’s the subtle push they need to enjoy a quiet moment together. 

As if he can sense you’re lonely and feel out of place, Travis approaches you. It’s tentative, like he’s petrified you’ll turn him away, but he comes regardless. Drinks are in each of his hands and he extends one to you. When you don’t take it he sets it on the table behind you. “Hi,” he says sheepishly, fiddling with something in his pocket. 

“Hi Travis.” You’re determined not to let his presence crack your resolve; last night illuminated a big issue and it needed to be dealt with. It’s proving to be difficult because he bumps a shoulder against yours and all you can think of is kissing him senseless. 

The song changes to a Bruce Springsteen ballad, and you recognize it instantly. It played at the coffee shop on your first date with Travis all those years ago. One look at him tells you this isn’t an accident, that he had requested it specifically for the two of you. “Dance with me?”

You sigh deeply, looking him in the eyes. “Trav, this isn’t going to magically fix things.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he pleads. “I fucked up so bad last night because I was being an idiot. I wrote down everything I would do differently if I had a time machine, look.” A hand reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper filled with his nearly illegible print. “Just one dance, and then we can go home and talk about it like I should have suggested in the first place. Let me know we’re still okay.”

If you hadn’t been in public you’re sure Travis would have been in tears. It’s not necessarily a good look to cry in front of hundreds of sponsors. He has a reputation as the goofy boy who takes no shit to uphold. “You have a lot of talking ahead of you,” you say, and let him drag you onto the dance floor. Swaying in his arms you realize things are going to be just fine. Travis loves you and you love him; there’s nothing the two of you can’t work through. 

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#travis konecny imagine #travis konecny x reader #travis konecny fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

[collecting-stories]

Rain - JJ Maybank

Request: hello💛may i request jj x reader, they are bestfriend’s and lately jj has been seeing reader in a completely different way and he doesn’t know why? like he‘d get mad at the boys interested in her and whenever rafe or topper tries to hit on reader it always ends in a fight? maybe he abruptly kisses her one day and then does he realise he’s inlove with her? FLUFF & A JEALOUS JJ PLS😭❤️

Request: could you do a jj fic with a rain kiss? i don’t really have a plot in mind but maybe one where they’re arguing in the rain or something💖

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

JJ sat on his board, ignoring the growing waves and Pope telling him to hurry up and paddle the rest of the way out to surf. He was too far away to hear anything you were saying but he was close enough to see you, standing there with your board, talking to Topper at the edge of the water. He squinted against the sun, trying to get a better look at your face as stood there. Were you smiling or was he imagining that? Did you like Topper? You had never mentioned anything about the kook to any of them, unless you just hadn’t mentioned it to him.  

Pope called JJ’s name again and he waved his other friend off, still trying to decipher what was going on with you and Topper on the beach. He would never admit it out loud but lately JJ had been feeling different about you. It wasn’t just some lust fueled, empty flirting. It was more than that. He couldn’t explain it and he’d definitely never felt like it before but he couldn’t sit there and watch you flirt with Topper. He paddled back toward the shoreline, getting off his board when he was close enough and walking to where you and Topper were talking.  

“Hey.”

You looked surprised to see him when your eyes met his but you recovered pretty quickly, “hey, what’s up?” You asked.  

“Thought you were coming out...it’s gonna storm soon.” JJ pointed out. You and Pope had been talking about going out to catch waves all week and there was finally a break in what felt like seven days straight of rain.  

“Yeah, I will, I’m just...” you looked back at Topper, still standing there. He raised his eyebrows in question, “I’ll be right there I’m talking to Topper.”

“Yeah...about what?”

“What?” You asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“How about, none of your business?” Topper commented, glaring at him.  

“How about you get the fuck off our side of the beach.” JJ said, stepping forward. You were quick to get between them, holding a hand out to JJ to stop him from coming any closer. Everything had been fine two minutes ago before he decided to come back to shore.  

“I’ll be right out J,” you said, “just go.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Please.”

“She told you to leave.” Topper cut in.  

“Seriously,” you rolled your eyes, “I got it.”  

“I can’t believe you’re seriously choosing him over me.” JJ said.  

You clenched your fists, trying not to lose your cool right here on the beach in front of Topper. This was the same bullshit that JJ had been pulling for weeks now. Interrupting any conversation that you tried to have with anyone that wasn’t him. He’d been antsy and unusually clingy just the other day when you were hanging outside the Chateau with John B. Now he was embarrassing you in front of Topper.  

“Can you not do this right now?” You practically begged before turning back to Topper, “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Text me.” He replied, nodding. He glared at JJ one last time before heading off down the beach, away from both of you. If only you could have gone with him.  

“What the hell is your problem JJ?” You laid your board down and started to gather the rest of your stuff. Shorts, sandals, shirt, all went in your bag.  

“My problem? You’ve been bitching all week about going out to surf and we finally get a few good hours and you waste them standing around on the shore twirling your hair and flirting with Topper.”  

“Fuck you! I’m allowed to talk, and yes flirt, with whoever the hell I want to.” You snapped.  

“Topper though? Get some fucking standards.” He replied, dropping his board down beside yours and grabbing your bag before you could finish packing it.

“Give me that back!”

“No!” He held it away from you when you tried to reach for it, “I’m trying to talk to you and you’re standing here packing up so you can run away.”

“Run away? You’re so fucking dramatic JJ! I’m leaving because you’re being a dick and you ruined  my entire afternoon.”

“Oh sorry you didn’t get to suck his-”  

You slapped JJ, hands immediately covering your mouth, eyes wide as you stared at him. You knew about Luke and you’d always been carefully of the way you acted around JJ. You’d never so much as jokingly nudged him.  

“Oh my god...J-”

JJ shook his head, holding his hand up. “I was out of line.” He replied. The moment he heard the words coming out of his mouth he knew he had taken his anger too far. He wasn’t surprised you’d slapped him, he wanted to hit himself too. He was being stupid and he knew but he didn’t know how to fix it.

“I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s okay.” He insisted.  

“I wasn’t flirting with Topper.” You clarified, “I didn’t deserve the accusation but I wasn’t flirting.”

“You were just out here talking to him and I saw you and-”

“I can’t just not talk to people because you don’t want me to...I get the whole kook pogue thing but I’m allowed to talk to whoever I want, without some six degrees from you.” You replied. You hadn’t meant to slap him but you weren’t going to let him get away with his behavior because of that.

“It’s not a kook pogue thing.” He looked away for a moment as a drop of rain hit his cheek. You looked up as it started to rain again, the umpteenth time this week. As you turned your attention back to JJ you saw Pope coming in out of the corner of your eye. At least someone got to enjoy a few waves.  

“Then what is it, because I’m so sick of this shit with you JJ. It’s every party, every beach trip.” You said. “I can’t talk to anyone without you right there. I don’t get it.”

“I just-” JJ let out a breath, frustrated with himself mostly. He was terrible with words as it was but he felt like he was incapable of just explaining to you what was the matter. Why couldn’t he just tell you that he liked you?  

“What?” You asked, “you just what?”

“I just-” He tried again, the rain overhead getting worse as he pushed wet hair out of his eyes. Without warning he leaned forward, knowing he’d either be slapped again or you would reciprocate. He kissed you, hand laying at the back of your head but trying not to seem like he was holding you there.  

Your eyes went wide and then quickly closed against the rain. JJ was kissing you, mouth on yours as if it was the most obvious reason of all and somehow you had never even considered that the reason he was so pissed was because he was jealous. You kissed back, grabbing at his waist to pull him closer, hands slippery on wet skin. He was jealous of Topper or John B or any nameless touron at a party and you couldn’t even fathom that because it was completely unbelievable. What did he even have to be jealous of?

“Guys!” Pope called, coming up the beach to where the two of you were standing. JJ pulled way, turning to look at his best friend.  

“What?”

“I’m real happy for you but can we get going? Now isn’t the time!” He insisted, looking back to the darkening sky over the water.  

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologized, grabbing your bag from where JJ had dropped it on the sand and sliding it over your shoulders, “JJ was yelling at me over Topper.”

“I wasn’t yelling at you!”

“No, totally, of course. You were so calm and collected.”  

“I would’ve been if you hadn’t been talking to Topper when we were supposed to be hanging out!” JJ replied, that slight crack in his voice back as he followed you and Pope up to the car.

“I’m joking J, god I kissed you didn’t I?”  

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects  @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama  @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @lemur46 @under-a-canyon-moon @calums-betch @jolomez @summerkaulitz 

#jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x y/n #jj fic #jj fanfiction #jj imagine #jj fanfic #jj x reader #jj x you #jj x y/n #collecting stories imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #obx fanfic #obx imagine #obx fic

[jinxfirebolt18902]

I licked it so it’s mine - JJ Maybank Imagine

Words: 1.818

Warnings: none?

Pairing: JJ Maybank x female!reader

A/N: I got this idea from a tumblr pic that read the title in a neon light sign. English isn’t my mother tongue so prob syntax mistakes AND F**** ENGLISH PREPOSITIONS other than that I love y’all, hope you enjoy.

—Okay sweetie, go have a good day and make new friends! —She heard her mom telling her as she gently pushed her by her shoulders towards the group of little girls and boys near the teacher. She took a few steps lacking confidence, not sure she wanted to actually be a part of the class. Minutes later a blonde boy with a face that already screamed ‘trouble’ despite the young age furrowed his eyebrows at her new face. He got closer and observed her attentively making her a little uncomfortable. Matching his personality, she furrowed her brows as well and asked rudely “what?!”

The boy processed the uncommon attitude coming from a girl and smiled at the change, appreciating the feisty confrontation in contrast with the so common cries or runaways of the other little girls he used to annoy. From then on they became inseparable and her mother always invited him over to play. Their play dates often involved fights, stolen toys and ice cream. As time passed, they grew out of toys but not out of ice creams, and they kept going to the small store that sells popsicles and doing their routine: buy the popsicle, go to the dock in front of the store and sit with their feet hanging as they ate the ice cream.

One of the many times, they were nine years old and just as she was about to give her popsicle the first lick he beat her to it and she whined immediately.

—JJ! —he laughed real hard and took it from her hands, provoking his best friend to become even more angrier.

—Sorry —he shrugged his shoulders innocently and then looked at the frozen candy —But I licked it so it’s mine now.

She punched him on the right shoulder and before she stood up and got away, he handed her his still packaged popsicle with a smile. She sent him another glare before sitting down again and not talking to him for the next 5 minutes.

—C’moooon! You can’t ignore me foreverrrr —he dragged some syllables of his words as he spoke close to her just to annoy her more.

—You’re disgusting JJ.

He smiled winningly at his victory. —But you love me anyways.

Years went by, their friendship grew and their group too, with the addition of John B, and years later Pope’s and Kiara’s. After Kie finished her shift at The Wreck, Pope and JJ were done with the groceries deliveries for the Kooks and John B and she were done at the Cameron’s, each with their different tasks, the crew had agreed on meeting at The Chateau to relax and drink some cheap beers.

John B was stargazing with a nostalgic look on his face; Kie was strumming her ukelele; Pope was sitting on an old foldable beach chair while she and JJ were swinging on the big hammock, beers of can in their hands. She was struggling to open hers as she tried to avoid breaking her nails on the process. She pouted as she extended her arm holding the can to the blonde. He took it and opened it easily but before handing it back he made sure she was still looking at him and carefully dug the tip of his tongue into the little hole, earning a protest from her.

—JJ!

He smirked and enjoyed the reaction he was getting from her. —What?!

—It was my beer!!

He let out a deep laugh as his head fell backwards. —You know the rules, I licked it, so…

Their friends laughed as they nodded their heads at JJ’s passion for teasing her.

Months later, summer days began and holidays welcomed free time and Tourons in Outer Banks. New faces, new adventures, new hook ups. The gang had organized one of the very famous keggers at the Boneyard. Music resonated from someone’s speaker, 5 bonfires had small groups of teenagers of all ages sitting around talking and drinking while larger groups were dancing around the beach. She and Kie were at different fires chatting with Tourons while Pope and John B made sure everyone got their refill. JJ being JJ was sweet talking a brunette into his bed at The Chateau. So far, nothing was out of the ordinary. They were all having a good time. Things got awkward the next day, when the crew woke up and saw JJ’s brunette still there, showing no intentions of leaving. She and Kie had passed out on the pull out couch while Pope slept on the other couch but they all looked a bit shocked, and uncomfortable, at the intruder walking around the kitchen as if she belonged there with them. JJ came out of his room minutes later and got his friends curious stares for breakfast. He shrugged his shoulders and twitched the corners of his lips indicating an “I-have-no-clue-why-she’s-still-here” expression when the girl couldn’t see.

In the afternoon, the intruder announced she’d go back to her family and take a shower but also planned to meet at The Wreck for dinner. Once she left the females of the group scoffed at her.

—Dude, she stuck with us like she’s part of the Pogues, what the fuck?! —Kie complained at no one in particular, but sent JJ a quick glare.

—You gotta fix this. —She pointed her index finger into her best friend’s chest. —There is no way I’m having dinner with her.

After everyone had gone back to their place and taken a shower, shared some family time and run some errands, the Pogues agreed to get together after dinner and go for some ice cream.

—Which flavour did you ask for Kie? —she asked as she licked her cookies and cream ice cream before it dripped on her clothes and hands. Kie gave her a funny look and answered.

—Watermelon, it’s really good actually. Sweet and refreshing.

The boys came walking a few steps behind them as they pushed each other like little kids. The girls rolled their eyes but stopped on their tracks as they heard a voice calling for them. Well more specifically, for the blonde surfer and their leader.

—JJ! John B! —the same brunette they were trying to avoid rushed down to the docks they were standing on.

—Hey there… —John B answered, not wanting to be rude.

Once again, the intruder stuck to the group of friends and hung out for a few hours, constantly trying to flirt with JJ. The brunette playfully hit him whenever he teased her, gently grabbed his biceps when they were sitting down on the wooden dock and tried to get him alone by walking slower than the group, her arms circling around his waist. JJ wasn’t used to his hook ups sticking to him like this, he usually made it clear he was up for a one night stand only but this one didn’t want to give him up just yet.

The brunette had also caught interest in the intense relationship between him and his best friend. The intruder wanted to have JJ’s complete attention but his friend was kind of getting in the way of that. As a girl, she sensed his friend was purposely cock blocking him, which started a silent and very subtle war between them.

The brunette laughed at JJ’s joke and got impossibly closer to him, resting her light weight on his chest. She rolled her eyes and made a signal to Kie to make her look at the intruder and then faked a vomit earning a laugh from Kie. John B and Pope furrowed their eyebrows at Kiara’s laugh, confused at why she was laughing. Kie was the only one who could see her little act.

Moments later they decided to go around the docks and throw some rocks into the water. John B felt a bit more comfortable now and teased the brunette by trying to splash her with the rocks he threw. That was the first time through the night that she had gotten away from JJ and she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to hit back.

She got closer to her best friend and challenged him with just a look. He rolled his eyes as he smirked, knowing he was in trouble.

—Get her off our backs dude. I wanna spend time with my friends, not her! —she whispered urgently looking up at his eyes as he was taller than her.

—What do you want me to do? Tell her ‘hey me and my friends want to be alone, do you mind?’—he mocked trying to make his point clear but she was having none of it. —Yep, that sounds perfect —she smiled and taped his chest as if the whole matter was solved. He raised an eyebrow and focused his eyes on hers. A second later he had a dirty smirk on his features, then it was her turn to quirk an eyebrow. —What?

—Aren’t you jealous, are you? —his smile grew wider as her scowl deepened. He was quick to snake his arms around her middle and pull her close. —Don’t touch me. Let me go, you’re an asshole. —He pouted and cooed her. —Aww c’mon baby don’t be mad I’m not giving you attention, you know I’m yours. —she just rolled her eyes and sighed deeply as Kie laughed near them, enjoying the whole show.

When she heard too much silence, or the lack of an annoying giggle, in the back, she caught a glance from the corner of her eye and saw John B and the brunette looking at them while Pope told something about dead bodies as he drew patterns in the sand with a stick he had found.

—Careful sis, remember if you play with fire, you get burnt. —John B spoke to her in a mocking tone. The rest, except for the Touron, began laughing.

She takes her chance as JJ’s face is not that far from hers and a wicked smile painted itself on her face before implementing her idea. In less than a second she had stuck her tongue out and slid it from under his jaw up to his bottom lip making the boy freeze and set his blue orbits on her. Her eyes were already on his, shining with playfulness. She was having so much fun having her way. The laughs around her turned into gasps.

She then turned to the other girl and spoke mockingly —I licked it, so it’s mine. —the girl’s jaw fell and she winked at the blonde before walking to Kie and throwing her arm over her curly haired friend, who was wearing an incredulous expression.

—Oh my God, I can’t believe you just did that! —both began to laugh as they walked back to the van and hopefully they would all drive back to The Chateau and spend a real night of friends with no intruders.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #jj obx #outer banks jj

[painless-innit-colourful]

‘Would You Cry If I Died, Would You Remember My Name?’ - a Ranbutler Fic

Remember how much you loved Ranbutler during the first half of the Masquerade stream? Me too! Everytime Billiam said something about punishing him I wrote it down. Here’s 1700 words of an unnamed character suffering :)

tw for starvation, Egg manipulation, implied beating.

“As a bonus,” Sir Billiam joked with a kind of triumphant smile. “If we die down here, they’ll never find our bodies!” He laughed voraciously, and Karl soon joined him.

---

The Butler didn’t think it was very funny.  There were crimson tendrils at the edge of his vision, like bloody hands trying to ensnare him. They were red, like anger and violence and pain. So much pain. Billiam had laughed at him earlier that day. Invited him to talk over an afternoon tea in the library. None of which he would be getting. The Butler swore he’d seen his employers eyes turn red, like the Devil himself was sitting across from him. It couldn’t be though, because the Devil seeks out the greedy. He just wanted something to eat.

He just wanted something to eat.

Another wave of dizziness swept over him, and it was a battle to stay on his feet. He was bent double, leaning hard against the rough wall of the secret passage, one hand gripping grooves in the wood with the tips of his fingers to hold him upright, while his other arm was wrapped tightly around his midsection, squeezing as if it could somehow counteract the pain. Despite his frigid surroundings, he didn’t shiver: he couldn’t feel it. He could’ve been submerged in the aquarium and drowned without realising. He was empty, stomach growling, demanding food, but there was nothing he could do. He felt his grip on the wall slipping, and he bit through his tongue with the effort to stay upright. If he sat down, he feared he’d never get up again.

Domed dinner plates, silver serving trays and deep-dish bowls piled high and poised precariously danced through his subconscious. Sweet and savoury pies, delicate canapes, a roasted round of venison, sautéed mushrooms. He’d made all those, some with assistance from Hubert, for a dinner party Billiam had thrown over a week and a half ago. He’d slaved away for hours prior to his master’s gathering of rich friends and richer acquaintances, preparing four courses, organising the alcohol, cleaning the dining room and ballroom, pressing tablecloths and watering the potted plants (some of a more reddish hue than normal). His intention was to make too much food: then he’d be scolded with no follow-through and get to retreat to the kitchen to finish the leftovers. It was a perfect plan.

But Fortune did not smile upon him; she glowered angrily as she often liked to do. From the moment he’d turned the corner from the dining room to the hall, time seemed to slow, and he watched with detached horror and a muted resignation as he collided with Lord James, and the wine he’d been carrying splashed all over the newly-divorced gentleman’s dinner jacket. The gent’s formerly suave cream blazer now bore a closer resemblance to the coat of a fallen soldier. The Butler wanted the ground to swallow him whole as his master came marching out of the ballroom to berate him, the guests exchanging smug looks and glances that filled him toe to top with shame.

“James I am so sorry, I’ll lend you a dinner jacket - there’s a rather fine one in the second guest bedroom’s wardrobe. Please, I invite you to clean yourself while I deal with him,” He shot the Butler a glare that sank his heart with dread, “And I’ll replace your jacket tomorrow. Hubert!” Billiam’s other butler immediately stepped out of the nearest extraneous doorway. “Show James to the second guest room and help him clean up.”

“And as for you,” The Butler shrunk back involuntarily as Billiam loomed over him, leaning closer to his ear. “Twenty lashes, no food for two weeks and the cost of his jacket comes out of your wages.” It felt like the air had been ripped out of his lungs, but the Butler held his tongue. Often Billiam would make empty threats he’d forget about hours later, so long as the Butler remained well-behaved and/or invisible. “Now get out of my sight.” He didn’t have to be told twice before he retreated upstairs, stuffing himself into a small cubbyhole where no guest would find him by accident. He would be left alone for the remainder of the party, when he’d leave and get something to eat without being seen or heard. He’d be fine. He’d be fine.

The kitchen doors were locked though when he tried to silently open them in the early hours of the morning, and when he turned away he was met with the sight of Hubert holding a candle in one hand and a cane in the other. A cold sweat formed on his brow like condensation on a chilly window pane.

“Hubert?” “Take off your shirt.” “But-” “Take off your shirt and step outside, please.” Hubert’s icy-grey eyes showed no sympathy as the two of them walked through a side door and stepped out onto the grounds of the estate. The Butler heard him set down the candle by the door as he shrugged off his waistcoat and undid the buttons of his shirt, trembling. Hubert took them out of his hands and cast them aside as he raised the cane, looking the Butler in the eyes as he tensed all the muscles in his body in anticipation. “No hard feelings.” “Right.” He murmured, shutting his eyes.

At least the agonising pains of starvation had distracted him from the raw ache of his back as it made contact with the wall behind him. He’d lost the fight to stay upright and was now huddled on the floor in the dank passage, tasting the blood in his mouth from where he’d bit through his tongue. It was better than nothing, he would only admit in this state. The tips of his fingers played with the canteen of water on the floor beside him: his only hope of surviving. This wasn’t the first time Billiam had withheld food from him, and he’d learnt that if he drank enough, he could about sustain himself through achingly empty days and endless torturous nights. Still, it did nothing to relieve his torment. It had been eleven days since the dinner party, and though the Butler knew he could survive this, the throbbing pain in his belly felt like Death consuming him from the inside out, withering him away in the secret passage. He was safe in there from his master at least, but what about his fellow servant? Did Hubert know about this hidey-hole?

If he died in here, would anyone find him? Would anyone care?

He titled his head back and let out a low moan as another wave of dizziness clouded his thoughts and senses. No one would care if he was gone. Not even his master, Billiam, would pay it any mind: Hubert was more than capable of running the show on his own. He never incurred Billiam’s wrath; he was never locked out of the kitchen or taken outside to be beaten or scolded for simply existing. Billiam and Hubert had conversations; the Butler was denied speech at all times. The Butler wasn’t even permitted his own name in Billiam’s establishment: he whispered it to himself while he was alone at night so he wouldn’t forget it. The memories of being called by his name grew dim in his mind, wasting away with no one else to value them. No one to value him.

The next time he was swept with a wave of nausea and weakness, the red tendrils returned to his vision, and this time they didn’t leave. “Oh Butler, or should I say, John...” “How… How do you know my name..?” He whispered back, without considering the source of the voice intruding into his mind. “You poor mortal soul, suffering alone with no one to care.” “How- How do you know that? Who are you?” The Butler’s voice was weak as he rasped questions to the darkness. “What is it that you want, hm? More than anything in the world, what is it that your heart desires?” “Are you Satan?” “No, child.” Somehow that pronouncement scared him more. “Please- I don’t want anything…” “Oh but you do!” The voice then fell silent, leaving the Butler alone with his thoughts for a long moment. The presence remained, but without the voice to distract him, the Butler once again whimpered aloud from the pain of his hunger pangs. “I- I guess- I guess I’d like something to eat.” He admitted, his voice a soft whisper as he basked in the shame he felt. “Yes, child, and that I can give to you, and so much more. I can grant you everything you’ve ever desired. Food, so much you’ll never go hungry again, rich and filling like what you serve to your master and his guests. You may have Billiam’s approval… He may even call you by your name.” The Butler’s vision was swimming. “H-How.” He mumbled, barely finding the will to whisper the words.

“Come. Come to me. In the library, behind the second painting. Then, lowly mortal, I will make sure you never starve again.” He tried, searching inside himself for the last of his resolve, tried to find the willpower to hold out against the pull of whatever demon was beckoning to him. His parents, were they alive, would never approve. Billiam would never approve.

But they didn’t matter. His parents were dead. And Billiam was the reason he was too weak to resist in the first place. His willpower shrivelled up and died as he dragged himself across the floor towards the rickety ladder upstairs. If just trying to survive made him a sinner, then he hoped at least that Hell would be warm.

---

“Karl,” He stared down the peculiarly-dressed stranger. “I’m going to have to ask you to go back inside.” He watched as the man hesitantly stepped under his arm where he held back the painting, his eyes darting between him and his master at the far end of the room, standing proud next to the Egg. He listened to him give Karl a small speech without hearing any of the words as he retrieved the scabbard from behind the other painting, then himself stepping through the hole in the wall.

As he reappeared, Billiam smiled and folded his hands before him. “Oh, the Egg is hungry.” The Butler unsheathed the wicked-sharp blade, stained with the blood of the Egg’s previous victims. As he looked at the last of the night’s targets in the eyes, he had only one thought.

‘So am I.’

#so this was interesting to write #lot of really specific googling #lot of synonyms for pain #symptoms of starvation #types of food they served at banquets in the olden times. that sorta thing #i reread half of the second hetty feather book halfway through because that also contains an ailing servant #crim writes #dream smp #tales from the smp #dsmp fic #ranboo #ranbutler #technoblade #billiam the third #dream smp egg #i hope you guys like it! #oh also! i wrote this before the wild west stream but i added in my hc that ranbutler and john john are the same person #so that's on his name being john

[vasiktomis]

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

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“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

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The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

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The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

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Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #cora stammos #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #john seed x female deputy #all hail cora's big fucking muscles #no beta we die like men

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Nightmares ⊰

Pairing: John Wick x Reader

Summary: John comforts his daughter after she wakes up from a nightmare.

Warnings: a smidge of angst, but major fluff

Words: 2.3k

A/N:  I was in a dad!john mood these last couple of days and ended up writing this fic. This is set a few years after Perfect to Me, which takes place in a universe that I'll be expanding with more of these family blurbs. Hope you enjoy!

Daylight has come and gone; an inky blackness speckled with countless shimmering, twinkling lights now fills the late midnight skies above. The air is calm, so serene—it’s tranquil silence lulling John to a deep, deep slumber, one that was very much needed after a tiresome day. Beneath the thick duvet, sleep is just a touch away following a brief bout of tossing and turning in bed. It always takes a little more time for him to retire when your body isn’t next to his during the night.

Eyelids heavy with fatigue, John was teetering on the edge of consciousness when a distant scream from down the hall pierces the quietude, causing him to jolt awake. In an instant, he pushes himself up and out of the mattress, his bare feet swiftly dashing across the hardwood as he heads to the source of the worrying sound. 

A familiar adrenaline fuels John’s hasty sprint, his mind already assuming that something terrible has happened. Sadly, it was a burden he still carries as a result of his past. He knows of the horrors in reality; he had been one of them at one point. Though time has passed since he walked away from that horrid life, John remains wary, afraid that there will come a day when this beautiful paradise he has found would be taken away.

John pushes the door open with enough force that it slams harshly against the wall, his heart hammering against his chest at the sight of the empty, disheveled bed in the middle of the room. “Ellie?!” He yells her name out loud, his voice frantic, trembling as panic starts to creep in. Before he could run to check the rest of the house, John hears faint shuffling coming from behind.

“Daddy?”

A sigh of relief falls from John’s lips once he sees his five-year-old curled up in the closet, seemingly distraught as he is. She was shaking, her lashes wet with fresh tears as she glances up at her father. Kneeling down, John joins her on the floor, his rapid breathing steadied following the recent fright. Ellie immediately crawls closer to him, her short arms wrapping around his mid as she buries her face into his shirt, finding comfort in his presence.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” John murmurs low as he tenderly strokes Ellie’s hair. Her tiny frame quivers while she stifles her sobs, the mere sound of her cries shattering his heart. 

“I had a bad dream,” she responds, tone soft and weary. John’s shirt is stained with her tears, but he pays it no mind. Instead, he holds her closer, tilting his lips down to place a kiss on her forehead, which aided in relaxing his darling daughter. With his warm embrace growing tight, he assures her that she is safe from harm. 

Yet, as they sit there on the carpeted floor, John feels a crushing pain from seeing her so scared. Since becoming a father, he often frets about Ellie. There would be nights when John would wake late in the evening to check on his baby, only to find her sleeping peacefully. He has this constant unsettling anxiety that looms over his head, a rooted fear that he could not shake off easily. 

“Come,” he eventually whispers, his utterance as delicate as the way he lifts her up from the ground, carrying her back to bed. 

Gently, John lays Ellie down on the mattress, drawing the pink blanket up to her body. He then switches on the lamp on the nightstand, its soft glow illuminating what should be a haven for her. John doesn’t even wait for her to ask him to stay; he could not leave her so soon. Sighing, he sits on the edge of the bed, the palm of his hand coming to rest on the side of her angelic face with features still tainted with terror.

“What was your nightmare about?” John probes, hoping that she would answer. 

Whenever he experiences nightmares of his own, you would pose to him the same question. At first, he was reluctant to share, not wanting to have you be a part of the torment his mind poisons him with. You, however, wouldn’t sleep until John opened up, and when he finally did, you always knew exactly what to say to bring him peace, never without fail.

“I-I was outside in the dark,” Ellie recounts with a whimper, her little fingers curling around the edge of the sheet. “A big monster was chasing me, and I screamed for help, but nobody came. I couldn’t find you or mommy anywhere.”

John’s heart is heavy as he pictures her completely helpless. Ellie is so young, innocent and vulnerable. She was too pure to witness or even dream about evil, but that he has no control over. John would do anything and everything if it means keeping her safe, but what could he do in a situation like this?

“Honey, I’m sorry to hear that,” he soothes, lightly running the pad of his thumb under her eye to wipe the remaining tears away. She resembles you more, he thinks, both reminders of all the good there is in this world. “But you’re alright now. It was just a bad dream, Ellie-bear. None of it was real.”

“Are you sure?” She wearily asks. “The monster looked real, daddy. What if it shows up again when I go to sleep?”

“I’m sure, baby. If you see the monster again, I promise I will be here to protect you. Your mother and I love you so much; we will never, ever let anything bad happen to you, El. Okay?”

Ellie wordlessly responds with a nod, reaching for John’s calloused hand then clutching it tightly with her softer one. “Daddy, do you get nightmares, too?”

“Sometimes,” he reveals, rubbing circles on the back of her hand. It still amazes John how much she’s grown over the last several years. He recalls how small her hands were when she was a mere few days old and how much love he had at the time for such a tiny precious thing.

A profound love that has since multiplied immensely even to this day.

“What happens when you wake up?” 

John pauses to ponder as Ellie’s curious chocolate eyes stare at him. They mirror his own in a way, and he smiles the slightest bit, his free hand moving to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, mommy usually talks to me for a bit, just like what we’re doing right now. She reminds me each time that nightmares aren’t real and we shouldn’t be scared of them.”

“You get scared of nightmares?” 

“I do,” he truthfully states. “But you don’t have to worry. All that matters is that you’re safe now.”

Gaze faltering, John could tell that she’s not wholly convinced by the pout on her lips as she fiddles with the shiny silver band on his ring finger. His eyes briefly dart to the stuffed animal that must have fallen when Ellie jumped out of bed and scampered to the closet. Leaning down, John retrieves the toy bear, softly smiling to himself at a passing memory.

“You know, I got Mr. Teddy right after mommy told me she was pregnant with you.” 

He remembers that moment as clear as day. The two of you have long desired for a family, and following a hard year of trying, you had surprised John on his birthday. He would never forget the indescribable feeling he had when you told him he was going to be a father. 

That night, you and John had gone on a lovely walk under the stars, imagining what the near future would look like. The bear caught his attention as you passed by a children’s store, and unable to contain his utter excitement, he had purchased it for the baby to play with one day.

“I always sleep with Mr. Teddy by my side,” Ellie notes as John places the bear in her arms. It was beginning to wear out after all these years, the brown faux fur fading into a dullish color. She could have any toy she wants, but her teddy bear would forever remain. Ellie could never part with it, and it means greatly to her as much as it does to John.

“You love Mr. Teddy, don’t you?” She nods, yes. “Well, from now on, Mr. Teddy will make sure that the monster never comes back. At night, when your mother and I are sleeping in the other room, Mr. Teddy will be our eyes and ears. Even if you don’t see us, he’ll be here to keep you safe.”

The corner of Ellie’s mouth turned up in a small smile, yet it was sweet enough to reassure John. He watches his little girl bring the bear up to her lips, giving the top of its head a brief kiss before holding it out towards him. John furrows his brow in confusion as she pushes Mr. Teddy into his hand. “What’s this?”

“You said you have nightmares,” Ellie replies, her voice soft like the plush in his grasp. “Since mommy’s at work, you can bring Mr. Teddy to your room. I know you’ll always protect me, but who’s going to protect you?”

John is caught off-guard by her simple query. Ellie was incredibly bright for her age, ever so inquisitive at most times. He spends four to five seconds contemplating, but in the end, he’s unsure of what to say. It truly warms his heart knowing that she was concerned about him and was willing to give up her favorite toy that she sleeps with every night. “It’s alright, honey. You need Mr. Teddy more than I do. I’ll be fine.”

“But what if you get a bad dream later?”

“I’ll be okay,” he affirms with a tender smile. “Nightmares aren’t real, but you are. Knowing that you’re here safe and sound is all I need to remind myself not to be afraid.”

For a while, John mulls over his words, absorbing the same truth he had tried to persuade Ellie to believe in. Days, weeks, months, and years have gone by since he quit doing business in the underground world, and so far, no threat has ever come to his family. His worried mind drove this trepidation he had, and to overcome it, he needed to listen to his own advice.

Nightmares aren’t real.

But you and Ellie are.

“Daddy, can you sleep here tonight?” 

Ellie looks up at him with her adorable pair of doe eyes, and John was powerless to them. He couldn’t turn down her request; he could never say “no” to his one and only princess. “Of course. Can you scoot over for me?”

Doing so, she gives him just enough room to lay down beside her. Though the bed was too small and cramped for John’s larger self, he couldn’t care less. Once he’s settled, Ellie snuggles up against him while she holds Mr. Teddy close to her heart, letting out a yawn as exhaustion sets in.

“I love you, daddy,” she mumbles sleepily, ready for blissful dreams to follow.

“I love you too, Ellie,” John returns, exhaling a content sigh. 

Soon after, Ellie’s fast asleep, her small body relaxed, and her rhythmic breathing slowing John’s. His arms cuddle her in, cocooning her as if he’s shielding her away from any and all danger. Within moments, his consciousness begins to ebb, this time unafraid of what was to come.

---

Dawn breaks.

The skies are bright and blue.

In glorious light, John’s eyes slowly flutter open, and he is greeted by the morning sunrise. It’s still quite early, he concludes, and he decides to stay in bed for now so that he doesn’t disturb Ellie. But before he could doze off again, he hears the squeaky creak of the floorboard coming from outside. 

“Hey,” you say quietly once John notices you standing in the doorway. “I was wondering where you were.”

John beams as you tiptoe inside the room, careful not to wake your daughter. Smiling, you bend down to kiss him on the lips. “How did your shift go?”

“It was a slow night in the ER, but I’m glad to be home,” you answer, brushing John’s lengthy locks away from his face. “What happened last night?”

“Ellie had a nightmare,” he states, keeping his volume very low. “I couldn’t let her sleep alone afterwards.”

At the mention of her name, Ellie stirs awake, nose crinkling as her fists rise to rub at her tired eyes. Once adjusted to the brightness of the room, her attention falls on you, and her rosy lips promptly quirked into a gentle smile. “Mommy, you’re home!”

“I am, baby,” you cooed as you shifted to kiss her forehead. “You can go back to bed, Ellie. I just wanted to check up on you two before I sleep for a bit.”

“Mommy, can you sleep here, too?”

You glance at your husband, who only gives you a pleading look similar to Ellie’s, and quickly, you concede defeat. 

Just like John, it was impossible for you to deny her of such. 

With a nod, your feet pads to the other side, peeling back the covers as he and Ellie move to allow you enough space to join. Crawling into bed, you rest on your side while John reaches for your hand, the three of you now laying in comfortable silence.

John waits until you and Ellie drift off to sleep, his heart soaring when he realizes he’s surrounded by the loves of his life. 

And as the sun continues to rise above the horizon once again, vibrant hues of yellow and gold shining down on the earth below, John falls back to a deep, deep slumber; memories of his nightmares now long forgotten, replaced by treasured moments like this. 

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein @unaspiringwritings @planetkt @breakthenight​ @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

#john wick x reader #keanu reeves x reader #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick x you

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

White Lies (Pt. 04 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.7 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

×

Holding What Isn't His

Leaving the hospital is great. You feel like you're seeing the city for the first time because, in a way, you are. Keanu keeps the small talk as he drives, telling you about your schedules with the doctors. You'll be going to the hospital a lot, but you rather go there than staying.

Once you get to the house, you can't help but look around. The night has already fallen, but you know that the many glass walls will allow the light to come in during the day. Carrying your bag, Keanu gives you a quick tour through the first floor before guiding you upstairs. He's silent now, but you don't want to ask why. There are four bedrooms and a huge balcony. The view is amazing too, and you can't believe you live here.

“This is our bedroom,” Keanu says as he opens a door. Peaking inside, you see an amazing bedroom. A king-size bed is placed between two windows that reach from floor to ceiling. On the left side, a balcony with a sliding door. There's a small lounge on the corner, with a couch, an armchair, and a TV. You stand by the door, not sure if you should step further inside. “The house is new, so we're still working on the decoration.”

“It looks nice to me.” You mutter, putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“All of your stuff is here, but you can sleep in the guest room if that will make you feel more comfortable.”

Oh. You haven't thought about that. “Uhm... I don't know.” It would be weird to sleep with Keanu, but you don't want him to be sad or anything. “I don't want you to think that I don't want to be with you, I just–”

“Hey, listen.” He puts the bag down and comes to stand before you. Keanu is very tall, and he towers over you. Raising your head to look at him, you sigh. “This is about you. I'll be happy as long as you're comfortable. So do what you have to do, alright?"

Taking a deep breath, you nod, looking down. Shyly, with your stomach burning a little, you take his hand. You're don't know where the gesture comes from, but you just need him to know you're here... And you need to know he's here too. “Just for a few days, I... I just need a while to get used to everything.”

“Take your time.” His thumb caresses the back of your hand, and it makes you smile a little. “It's a little late. You should get some rest.”

“Yeah.” You had dinner at the hospital, and it's almost ten. Nodding you run a hand through your hair. “Can I take a shower first? I don't know where any of my stuff is so...”

“Let me show you.” And so he does.

Keanu has a closet, and your stuff occupies half of it. He walks you around it, and you pick an old baggy shirt and sweatpants before heading to the bathroom. Keanu assures you can use his, and you decide not to refuse the offer. He kindly helps you settle down in the guest room when you're done, telling you to call him if you need anything. But, after lingering for some minutes, he leaves, turning the lights off before closing the door.

Surrounded by darkness, you lie on your side, pulling the blankets up to your shoulders. Sleep does come easier this time, knowing you're home. But you wake up a while later, eyes on the digital clock finding it's two in the morning. You do try to fall asleep again, but this time your mind won't let you. You're tired, exhausted even, of trying to remember. You want so bad to remember Keanu. To remember the plans you made for the baby, the time you've shared. This isn't fair to anyone. Not even to the life growing inside you. You can't help but blame yourself a little for putting an unborn child through such an accident, even though Keanu told you it wasn't your fault some crazy driver came speeding through the road. And, on top of all that, you might just be depriving Keanu of enjoying the pregnancy. You don't remember who you were before, or what you believed in, but you know this is something to be appreciated by both parts.

“Damn it.” You complain tossing around and sighing with the sudden need to eat something, you're not sure what. Trying to keep your mind still, eyes shut, you pull one of the pillows and hug it. But soon enough you're beyond frustrated, eyes rolling as you push yourself up, stopping for just a moment to wait for the dizziness to pass.

Tiptoeing, you walk through the hall, using the walls to guide you through the darkness since you don't know the place at all. Finding the kitchen is also a challenge since you don't want to turn any lights on until you get there. But when you reach the kitchen, you can't find the freaking switch, but you do manage to find the fridge, pulling the door open. Your eyes welcome the light, but you blink a little until you get used to it. Something in you says you shouldn't be opening his fridge like this, but this is your home, right? Maybe you're just overthinking.

“There gotta be something.” Mumbling you glance at your stomach, a small smile crossing your lips. “Is you, isn't it? You want some sugar.” You ask the baby, focusing your attention on the fridge again, scanning through it, trying to find anything you'd want to eat.

“Everything alright?” The voice comes with the lights being turned on, and you jump a little, pushing the fridge door closed. Turning on your heels, a hand on your heart, you find Keanu with an apologetic look. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

“It's alright, I was just looking for something sweet to eat, Uhm... The baby wants what it wants.” Shrugging your shoulders, you walk to the kitchen island, blushing a little, not sure why though.

“Did you find anything?” He asks, moving to stand across from you.

Shyly, you shake your head no. “I didn't, but I'm alright. I'm not hungry. It's just... Hormones, I think.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't do much grocery shopping while you were at the hospital, but I'll fix it.” He gives you a look you can't read. “I'll go get you something. There are a lot of stores opened twenty-four hours.”

“No, please.” You burst out, quickly walking around the island to reach Keanu when he starts walking to the living room. Grabbing his forearm, you succeed to make him stop. “You don't have to, really. I told you, I'm not hungry. You don't have to go out there in the middle of the night just because I'm having cravings.”

“Of course I have to.” He turns to face you completely, and you give a tiny step back just to have a better look at him. “Just tell me what you want. I'll put on a jacket and get going.”

“Please, Ke. I mean it, you don't have to.” When you realize the way you called him, you immediately look down, feeling heat spreading through your cheeks.

“I'm going. So you can either tell me what you want or I'll have to get creative and try to find out.” He says after a while of silence. But despite the ultimatum, he's voice is soft.

“I'm coming too then.” You quickly decide, crossing your arms and looking back at him, putting a face that means you won't change your mind. “And that's not debatable.” You add.

Despite the darkness, you see a smile playing on his lips.

Keanu doesn't complain, and half an hour later you're seating shotgun in his car in this grocery store parking lot, taking the piece of vanilla pie he bought you, with strawberries on top. Using a plastic fork, you start eating, your body immediately grateful for the shot of sugar. Or maybe it's just your head, but it is delicious.

“Do you want some?” Turning your body towards him, you fold a leg underneath you.

“No, thank you.” Keanu smiles, shaking his head lightly.

“Are you sure?” Taking one of the strawberries, you bite it, sucking on your thumb when you notice you got some frosting on it.

“I am.” He assures you, starting the car again. Sitting back straight and buckling up, you focus on your pie, watching the city lights passing through the window. “Remember when I told you about how our marriage was a secret? That we wanted to keep it private for as long as we could?”

“I do.” Nodding, you finish the pie, laying the empty plastic box on your lap. Keanu told you that at the hospital. He's a public figure, and you agreed on keeping your relationship only to yourselves. “Why?”

“People will know now. The news are already spreading ever since I took you to the hospital.” He glances at you. “I just wanted you to know. It won't be a secret anymore.”

“Alright.” Nodding, you turn your attention back at the window. “I'm a little dizzy.” You mutter, running a hand through your hair.

“Do you need me to stop?”

“No, I'm alright.” Closing your eyes, you try to focus on anything else than your sick stomach. Or the headache.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” The offer gets you by surprise, eyes opening to look at Keanu. You can't help but wonder if you usually hold hands as he drives, or if he's just trying to help you feel better.

After a few seconds considering it, you nod, quickly taking his hand. Intertwining your fingers with his, you breathe in deeply, the free hand laying on your stomach. “So... We should watch some of your movies.” Trying to distract yourself, you bring up the subject.

“Sure.” He stops by the red light, taking the time to look at you. “There's Matrix. It's about a programmer who is faced with the fact that his reality is controlled.” The light turns green and you start moving again. “There's John Wick. He's an assassin and this guy kills his dog so he starts hunting him down.”

“Who would kill a dog?”

Keanu chuckles, taking a turn left. “You'll like it.”

“Yeah. We should watch it... Together, I mean.” Quickly, you add, wondering if that's something he'd like to do. “When you have time, of course.”

“You're my priority now,” Keanu says, thumb caressing the back of your hand. “I took some time from the company I work at, so I'll be around a lot.”

“Alright.” Smiling, you nod.

You're almost falling asleep when the car stops, but you manage to push the door open and get out of the car. Keanu offers help, but you politely decline. He walks you to your room anyway, waiting until you lie down.

The night goes by faster after that, and the sunlight on your face is what bugs you enough to make you turn around, pulling the blankets over your head. But you're already awake, and hungry, so you just lie there for a few minutes before deciding to get up. It's funny how the first thing you think about every morning when you wake up is the child inside your belly. Caressing your still flat stomach, you smile. “Hi there, baby.” You whisper, wondering if he or she can hear you. “Why don't we... Why don't we go see if your daddy is awake?” Voice still weak, you blush to yourself to say such a thing, even in the privacy of your room. How could you do that? Get Keanu's eyes and marry him? He's not only handsome, but he has proven to be kind, caring, and loving. He's amazing.

Walking down the hall, you're about to knock on Keanu's bedroom door when you hear a noise downstairs and an awesome smell reaches you. It doesn't take much to you recognize it's bacon. He can't be making bacon, because it doesn't matter if you don't remember anything, you know a morning with bacon is perfect. Quickly, you go straight to the kitchen, stopping by the open area, observing Keanu from a distance. He is making bacon and something else, skilfully moving through the kitchen. But when he turns around, he spots you, raising his eyebrows. “Hey.” You mutter, smiling, and walking over him.

“Hi, beautiful,” Keanu says, and the pet name makes you blush. Placing both plates down, you see what he made. Waffles and bacon, a dish that looks a little more complicated than you thought. “Made you something nice.”

“It smells absolutely amazing.” Feeling timid suddenly, you lean against the countertop. “What do we do when we wake up?”

“What do you mean?” Keanu asks, taking both plates and gesturing for you to follow him to the square wooden table he has in the kitchen.

“Uhm... Do we just wake up and...” Running a hand through your hair, you don't really know why you brought it up. It just felt a little cold. “I don't know. Do we just say ‘hi’ and that's it?” Watching as he puts both plates down, you awkwardly stand beside him.

Keanu looks down at you, those dark eyes making you stand up a little straighter, involuntary moving just a bit closer. “We usually hug.” He says after some seconds of silence.

The idea makes you smile. Waking up and hugging your husband, surrounded by this amazing smell in such a beautiful morning. “Let's hug then.” You give the idea, but you don't move, unsure if he'll even want to do that. Maybe, just maybe, Keanu feels like you're a stranger too. You may look like his wife, but only on the outside. Inside, everything is gone. This thought makes your heart sink, and you step back, looking down with some tears starting to pool in your eyes. “I-I'm sorry, I just thought that... Nevermind.” You're turning around, seeking a chair to seat when you feel Keanu gently grabbing your arm.

“Come here.” He calls in a low voice, delicately pulling you into his open arms.

You collapse against his chest, trying hard not to cry. Hugging his midsection, you can't help but notice how smaller you are compared to him. But this makes you feel safe, secure. Allowing his heartbeat to calm you down, you take a deep breath, the pain in your chest fading away. You don't want to let go, but you know you'll have to in a while. You can't just hold on to Keanu forever, and this is supposed to be just a good morning hug.

He's been lying to her for a while now, on a regular basis. About why people didn't know about her, about why they still haven't chosen the baby's room. And now, he just said they use to hug. They don't.

As Keanu has his arms around her, embracing, holding the girl tightly against him, he can't help but curse himself. He wishes this could be real. Maybe, in completely different circumstances or another reality. But not here. She's still (Y/N), and he's still just looking after her. Making her feel safe, so her child will be safe too. Her child alone, not his.

A single sob escapes her lips as he rubs her back softly. He doesn't want to let go, but he knows he has to. (Y/N) isn't his, it doesn't matter how much Keanu wishes it could be different. But for now, he's willing to be what she needs. To hug her every morning. Keanu's mind is moving faster than ever, too many conflicting thoughts racing through. But right now, just for this brief moment, he'll let all those things go. He'll just hold her.

It takes a while, but (Y/N) moves, stepping back and raising her head to look into his eyes. Keanu swears he loses himself in her for a moment, like he's drowning. She smiles, sighing, wiping off a tear that rolled down.

“Well, good morning.” She mumbles, a small smile crossing her lips. Keanu reluctantly let go, gesturing for her to sit and that's what she does.

He can't help but smile too, all the way through breakfast. He answers her questions, taking in her face, lit up by the morning light coming through the windows. His heart is full like it has never been before. How could a woman he met only a while ago make him feel this way? It's insane, yet, Keanu doesn't want to feel any different.

×

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina

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[fortheloveoffanfic]

This Christmas (pt1)

John Wick x Reader. A John Wick AU. (A/n- Just a tiny, five part Au where John is Y/n’s boss.)

Masterlist  

Warnings- none

New York Y/n’s desk was probably the most obvious give away that Christmas was her favorite holiday of all time. She had everything; from tinsel running cheerfully around the edges and a tiny tree in one corner, to a little snowman figurine and a decorative jar of striped candy canes. That year, she’d even put out extra to buy a little Santa Claus figurine to greet everyone coming out of the elevator. The rest of the floor hadn’t really caught on though, her boss was never one to get into the holiday spirit anyways. But Y/n didn’t mind, she probably had enough for them both. 

That morning, three weeks before the big day, she was sitting at her little station in the waiting room, tapping away on her computer, contentedly working her way through everything John had assigned her as she hummed in time with the Christmas carols wafting through her ear buds, loud enough for her to enjoy it though not so much so as to hamper her from hearing if the phone would ring. A classic had just started up, and like the others, Y/n had committed it to memory and was completely ready to get in tune with Mariah Carey when a knocking on the upper part of her receptionist’s desk roused her attention. It was Robert, the company’s head of marketing, flashing her a winning grin as he leaned forward on the matted grey surface. “I see our Christmas queen strikes again,” he gave her area a once over, his smile not wavering.

“That she has,” Y/n returned, beaming. Robert was a friend, a good one and he never let the vast differences in their positions at the company get in the way of inviting her to drinks with other board members or taking the extra elevator ride to bring her coffee whenever he could. “Do you like it?” Removing her ear buds, Y/n shifted her keyboard to give herself some room to fold her elbows on the desk.

“Like it?” Robert furrowed his brows, “I love it! You should come over and help me decorate,” when Y/n rolled her eyes, dismissing the notion, he clarified, “I’m being serious! You won’t have to do any of the heavy lifting, I swear, I’d be grateful for just your direction.”

Giggling, Y/n leaned back into her chair, folding her arms across her chest, “Can’t you pay someone to do all that Rob? What do you need me for?”

“I guess I could,” he shrugged, depositing a colorful gift bag with crepe paper sticking out at the top in front of him, he straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets, “But it won’t be the same. I’m pretty clueless with…..making sure things flow so perfectly,” he gestured to the way she’d dressed up her station; just enough to show off the spirit, though not in a gaudy, over the top way, “But I like to get involved, you know? Please say you’ll come. I may not be able to decorate like a pro, but my hot cocoa is awesome.”

Leaning in conspiringly, Y/n held her chin in her palm, “Are you trying to bribe me with amazing cocoa that I’ve never tasted?”

“I am,” his voice dropped an octave, and when Robert leaned in towards the desk, he spoke in a whisper, “The secret’s whiskey.”

“Ohh,” Y/n mused, “Very tempting, can you do Saturday?”

“I most definitely can.” just as they continued to make plans, out from the hallway, came their boss, and CEO of the company, John Wick. It was hard to not notice him, considering he seemed to have this air about him that attracted all eyes the minute he walked into a room. He was just…..magnetic. “Y/n,” he teased, “You didn’t tell me the Grinch was in.”

From her usual perch, Y/n stuttered, unlike Robert, she was afraid of what would happen if John felt insulted by a harmless joke. He was an asset to the company, of a high caliber, but her? She was just an assistant. Thankfully though, John didn’t give her a moment to speak before speaking up, shaking his head, “Don’t you have work to do Rob? Things to finalize before the conference.”

“It’s three weeks away,” Robert defended, taking on a bothered expression. He turned to John, leaning against the lip of the desk and crossing one ankle in front of the other. Likewise, John neared the pair, lingering closer to the edge, laying a large palm on the cool top, not yet regarding Y/n.

“Only three weeks,” John emphasized with a heavy sigh, “Did you really just come up here to bother my secretary? Cause if you don’t, Y/n does have work to.” 

“I can see that,” Robert nodded towards the thick planner laid out next to her computer, right next to several papers and little notes reminding her of all the things she had to get done. Buy gifts for everyone on John’s very long yet impersonal list, schedule flights to England for the conference, book him a hotel room, organize his calendar and set appointment dates. And that was barely a quarter of it. By the rate things were going, Y/n was beginning to wonder if John was even going to take Christmas day off. “You’ve got her burning the midnight oil.”

“It’s eleven am,” John noted gruffly. In her three years of working under him, Y/n had never once heard the man crack a joke, or laugh for that matter. He was so serious that often, Y/n would wonder if he even smiled. Maybe that's why he looked so good for a man nearing fifty. That, and the real possibility of him having a fancy home gym. “Maybe it’s time to get back to your office Robert.”

“Right,” Robert fought a frown, only to turn back to Y/n as he picked up the gift, “Just one more thing,” as he looked at her, he smiled again, holding the bag out to her, “I got you this Y/n.”

Scoffing a delighted laugh, Y/n retrieved the present, “No fair, you’re early. I haven’t even had time to get your gift yet.”

“This isn’t your Christmas present,” Robert gestured for her to unveil his gift, “Open it, come on.”

“Alright, fine. But if it's not- oh my god!” Gasping loudly, her jaw hung slack and Y/n held up the ceramic mug that had been secured inside. It was rounded and painted to look like a gingerbread man wearing a scarf, and it had even come equipped with a candy cane spoon. “Rob,”  standing abruptly, disregarding her boss eyeing their exchange, “I love it,” Y/n walked around to meet him on the other side, immediately pulling him into a warm hug, “Thank you!”

“I knew you would,” he grinned as they pulled apart, “I should probably get back now though. But I’ll call you tonight so we can talk about Saturday.”

“Sounds great!” Waving as Robert retreated towards the elevator, she gave her new mug another look, “I can’t wait to use this,” Y/n noted, more to herself, only catching John staring at her when she looked up once more, “I’m sorry Mr. Wick, is there something you needed? If its about your flight plan, I’m calling the agency this afternoon so-”

“You know we have a no fraternization policy, right?” He cut her off, straightening his back and cutting her a stern look.

“I….uh….You mean…..” Looking between John and her opened present, Y/n furrowed her brows, confused. Of course, Robert was perhaps one of the most eligible bachelors, besides John himself, at the company; he was attractive, charming and quite the gentleman. But Y/n had never even thought of viewing him in a romantic light, they were friends and nothing more. “That was…..that was nothing,” she waved the thought off, “Robert is just a good friend. He probably just saw that while he was shopping or something. We do that kind of thing all the time.”

Humming his response, John kept his head held intimidatingly high. He always seemed so much bigger than her and Y/n could never decide whether or not it was thrilling or frightening. John himself was quite the looker, dark hair, dark eyes and enthrallingly mysterious. Even on a regular day he looked like he belonged on the posters for some high end brand or the other. “I need you in my office,” already, he was walking off and Y/n was left scurrying to match his long strides in her heels.

“What is this about?” Breathless as John shut the heavy door behind them, Y/n tried to right herself as she went before his desk. The large room, with dark porcelain floors and hardwood walls, accented by elegant furniture was familiar territory and Y/n knew it almost as well as she knew her own apartment. Papers on the right of his desk were dealt with, the ones on the left weren’t. There was an integrated mini refrigerator among the cabinets and he kept an extra suit, custom Tom Ford cause he never wore anything but, in the closet where he kept his coat. Come to think of it, Y/n probably knew more about John than anyone else in that entire building,

“Its about the conference,” coolly, he sank into his imposing leather chair, gracefully scooting towards his imported, mahogany desk. “It’s good that you haven’t called the agency yet, cause now you’ll be booking three tickets; you’re coming too.”

Stammering, Y/n’s eyes went wide with surprise. That wasn’t right, that wasn’t right at all. She was supposed to have Christmas week off, so she could fly home to be with her family, but that wasn’t really possible if John would be taking her across the pond for a conference filled with stuffy, middle aged people with too much money and no one to spend it on. “Mr. Wick…..I…..I already applied for that week off.”

“No you didn’t, you never submitted an application,” he didn’t even look at her, firing up his laptop and probably ready to be done with the matter.

“Yes, I did,” frenzied, and panicked, Y/n looked to his desk, where, lo and behold, her application for time off sat on among the smaller pile of paperwork, the one on the left side. But that was impossible, she’d given it to him weeks ago! “It’s right there,” she pointed accusingly to where it had been sticking out from beneath some investment proposal or the other. 

Snatching it up, John scanned the pages before swearing under his breath. It was the first time she’d ever seen him so bewildered. “Y/n,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, “I’m sorry it must have gotten mixed up in the hustle.”

“I….” She wanted to argue, tell him that an apology wouldn’t make up for keeping her away from her family. Y/n wanted to yell that she’d be taking the week off anyway. But she couldn’t. Not just because he was her boss, but because he was John, who despite his very hardened exterior, had earned himself a soft spot in her heart. Y/n cared for him, in a way she probably shouldn’t have and the thought of bailing when he needed her wasn’t one she could entertain. “It’s okay,” forcing a smile and biting back tears, she blinked quickly, “I guess I should get to planning our flights.”

“Y/n-” he began, but it was too late, Y/n had already turned on her heel and was moving towards the door, swiping hastily at her eyes before she could listen to him say anything else. 

Three Weeks Later Despite being separated merely by six inches in the car ride to the airport, Y/n swore that she could feel John's heat radiating, seeping through her thick layers. It was both an exciting and uncomfortable experience. On one hand, being that close to him almost had her giddy; feeding the school girl crush she'd developed on her boss. While on the other, things felt clumsy and tense; he didn't seem interested in talking,  she didn't know what they could possibly talk about besides work and sharing an hour long car ride and six am was plain out awkward. Still, they’d made it through in almost complete silence. 

Even at the airport, whilst walking to where they had agreed to meet Robert at the waiting area in anticipation of their flight, John had stayed silent and Y/n felt something of a dead limb walking beside him. He was always quiet and, like clockwork, as the year dwindled down, he seemed to grow even colder, as New York’s winter resided inside him. Usually, Y/n tried to not to let it get to her, but they were going to spend the week together; she’d given up family time for work and his silence was making her feel a bit lonely. Her only glimmer of hope for some good, warm company had been in Robert, even if Y/n got the feeling that John wouldn’t be giving them too much time together.

The chill between them lingered all the way through, though, when they all met up, things were uncharacteristically different. Immediately upon greeting each other, Y/n had instinctively pulled Robert into a hug, standing on the tip toes of her suede knee-highs so she could loop her arms around his neck, staying like that until John cleared his throat. When Y/n pulled away, she rubbed her gloved hands together, glancing at John, not really knowing what to feel when she looked at him and consequently looking away quickly. “ Uh…” checking her phone, Y/n exhaled shakily; there was still quite a bit of time left and the thought of having to spend it with both Robert and John was unnerving. She knew he wasn’t exactly a fan of their friendship, though, she could never tell why and without having to ponder on it, Y/n  had already known that they were in for a long morning.

“Why don’t we head over to the lounge, get some drinks?” John filled the silence, causing Y/n to snap her head up and look directly at them. John wanted to grab drinks, with them? When she finally gathered the courage to face him, she found that John was looking directly at her, as if he were really only seeking her response.

Staring back at him, as she always did, Y/n found it hard to not lose herself in those dark pools, so endless that she might have drowned if she wasn’t too careful. The request was simple and impersonal, but still very unlike the John she’d grown to know. “Okay,” forcing herself to nod and simultaneously shifting her gaze back to Robert who now stood beside her, Y/n agreed, “We can do that. But it’s a little early, don’t you think?”

“It’s the airport, Y/n,” Robert teased lightly as he nudged her shoulder, “Besides, it's already noon in London, so technically, you’re just…….pre-assimilating.”

Battling an amused grin, Y/n rolled her eyes, adjusting the bag on her shoulder as she prepared to start moving towards the lounge, “That’s not a real thing.”

“Technically it is, I mean, Hardy made up words all the time and no one did anything about that. You,” he emphasized pointedly, “Love Hardy.”

“Hardy is a timeless, literary genius. You are a marketer from New York, it’s clearly not the same,” she laughed. She could tell that Robert was about to add something more, though, when John interrupted them, sternly urging them to move along, he dropped the matter, instead insisting that he take one of her bigger bags. “Oh, you don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but I want to,” he said, claiming one of her carry ons before she could protest any further. “We should get going, before Scrooge over here loses it.”

“You’ve gotta stop that,” Y/n admonished before they set off, “You’re gonna get fired or something.”

“I’m not gonna get fired, relax-”

“If you kids are finished,” they both looked to John immediately as he scolded them, and Y/n shuddered at the way his tell tale signs of irritation shone through; a quirked brow, an evident scowl and a hardness in his jaw that screamed that he was at his rope’s end with their banter. 

“We are,” she spoke up without giving Robert the opportunity to come up with another questionable joke directed at their very unamused boss. Then, not offering anything further, she followed John’s  lead as he walked off, not paying any mind to how far they were behind him. 

Though, the peace was short lived when Y/n tripped as they reached the bottom of one of those short lived staircases that had been placed purely for aesthetic purposes, accidently dropping her rolling suitcase as she stumbled forward. With reflexes faster than she could have registered, John spun, barely sparing a moment to set aside his own suitcase before catching her at the shoulders. By the time he’d helped her right herself, Y/n’s chest was barely a hair away from his and with the way he was bent, his face wasn’t much further from hers. Swallowing thickly, for the first time Y/n didn’t feel small under his bottomless stare, instead, she felt like he was seeing into her; trying to speak into her. It was hard to decipher it, and it could have very well been her own unspoken affections blurring things, but Y/n could have sworn that he was seeing her in a different light.

Everything around them seemed to slow down, like the universe was letting her savor the proximity that she’d never experience again. “Are you okay?” John’s inquiry pierced their fragile moment, and all of a sudden, it was as if someone had hit play on a remote so reality would resume.

“I…..I’m fine, thanks,” she smiled weakly, her expression faltering when John pulled away. Then, simultaneously remembering her fallen suitcase, they both bent over to get it, leaving John’s hand to unconsciously fall over Y/n’s. For a split second, they stared at their hands, together, on the black plastic handle, looking very suggestive with the way they were positioned. “I uh, I got it,” flustered, Y/n gave the bag a gentle tug.

John didn’t let up immediately though, instead sparing her a peculiar stare, “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

“It’s okay,” she exhaled shakily. Y/n couldn't let him take it, else she’d read too much into it, and no good would come from reading too much into an innocent though rare act of inconsequential kindness from John Wick. He didn’t feel the same, they weren’t even friends, it wasn’t worth it. “Thanks though.”

They stood and John immediately put some distance between them. “Good,” he scoffed coldly, walking off before they could exchange anything else. 

“Hey,” Robert touched her shoulder, causing Y/n to jump. She’d been looking on as John walked off, rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do or think. “You okay? That could have been a nasty fall, especially in those shoes.”

“Yeah,” finally tearing her gaze away from John’s slowly shrinking form so she could greet Robert’s concern with her own bewilderment, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Vaguely, she heard his response, though it sounded far off as she inevitably succumbed to  letting thoughts of the past five minds swim around in her head; caught between wishing it meant something and thinking that it more than likely didn’t. 

****** Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana  @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

#john wick #keanu reeves #john wick x you #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x y/n #john wick x y/n #john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #ff #fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick au #christmas au #this christmas #this christmas part 1

[jay-and-dean]

Firefly  Chapter 3 : Nine and Twelve years old

By Roonyxx and Jay-and-dean

Pairings : future Dean x reader ?

Summary :  40 years in Hell, but he didn’t spend all this time all alone, he had her.

Prepare to know what happened during those years Dean never talks about. To immerge yourself in Hell, only lit by the mysterious kid growing here…

And to see some of your favorite villains again : Crowley, Lilith, Lucifer… And also Sammy and Jack…

Serie Warnings : Hurt!Dean, Hell (torture, even if we tried to not give it graphic descriptions, creepy demons, blood, violence), swearing, angst, future fluff and smut.

This story is in both Reader’s POV and Dean’s POV

Wordcount : 4880

Note : This is our second collaboration. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each, like we did for Same.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

This story will be around 10 chapters and we intend to edit it every Saturday if nothing delays it.

Firefly Chapter 1

Firefly Chapter 2

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

—————————————————————————————

3.

Reader’s pov

She sighed, putting the notebook down on the marble table.

“Once more” the demon ordered, weirdly scratching his chin, or rather the skin of a middle-aged lady that didn’t suit him. “I want you to know this by heart.”

“Why” Y/n frowned. “What is the point of all that ? You’re not even a real teacher ! You make me learn things that have no sense !” 

A wicked expression appeared on the demon’s face, betraying him despite that ridiculous disguise.

“Oh I’m begging you little shit, disobey again. Punishing you is the only good part of this stupid job.”  

“You’re not allowed to hurt me” she smiled with contempt. “Crowley would end you, and Lilith…”

The demon suddenly got up, grabbing her by the hair to throw her where the chains were. Immediately tying her like an animal in a circus. She tried to fight him, already regretting her words.

“I’m allowed to cage you.”

“No no no…” she instantly begged.

Last time he had done that, he left her chained for four days and no one showed up, he was the only one coming every day.

         But today, she was going to know if Sammy told John about the college letter. After several bad days in a row (days when Dean couldn’t talk, wasn’t in his cell or she couldn’t get there), she couldn’t resolve to be locked again.

“Let me out !” she groaned. “Let me out or I SWEAR !”

But the demon kept smiling, seeing the now warded chains redden without breaking.

“Please…” she finally begged, falling on her knees. “Please, I hate those chains.”

“Prime numbers” the demon just stated coldly. “Until two thousand.” 

“Two” she swallowed, looking down. “Three, five, seven, eleven, thirteen…”

          She limped in the corridor, holding on to the bloody walls with tears in her eyes, and Mister Teddy Bear against her.

         After making her start again ten times, the demon had thrown the keys at her with a satisfied smile before he left. But of course, he had given them all but one : the one holding her ankle ; just to laugh, thinking at her false hope.

         And after tugging at it furiously for an hour or more, something had finally broke. Not in the chain... but in her ankle. 

         Dean’s cell wasn’t so far now, she would make it. And she would be brave and heal, just like he did, every single day. She turned left and limped to his cell, a cold sweat dripping down her back, and finally pushed the door with a light smile.

         Her smile faded.

She was too late or too early, or Alastair just lost his temper again. Almost nothing was left of her friend. Blood and guts, pieces of bones....  

For the first time in her life, she looked away, turned around on her purple foot and left a tear fall on her cheek. Hell was an unfair place and, for years, she had just accepted it for was it was, because she knew nothing else… But now her child innocence was slowly dying, and her hate growing.

She sat on the corner of the room, making herself as small as possible, her back on what was left of Dean, holding her teddy bear against her. 

She could wait.

After a while, she could hear the little whimpers that left his mouth, a sign that he was back together.

She turned around to see him : He was panting, his clothes clung to his sweat drenched body. His eyes were still closed, not ready to face her yet, if he even knew she was there. 

She took her injured ankle and heaved it up off the ground to turn completely to him, a hiss leaving her mouth. It wasn't totally healed yet, which made her frown. She was used to injuries only lasting a few minutes, an hour eventually… But this one was bad.

His eyes opened, he probably heard her. 

“H-hey Firefly…” he sounded hoarse. 

She wiped her tear and tried to give him her best smile, but she couldn’t. Hell was weighing down on her more and more every single day, she now saw how wrong it all was. How her friend suffered every single minute down here.

“Hey…” she said a little bitterly, as she waved the arm of Mister Teddy Bear. 

His eyes raked over her, but he didn’t really seem to see her yet. They looked void of anything. He heaved himself up with his arms, his back now resting against the wall. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and opens them again. His pupils adjusted to the darkness that surrounded them. He once again took her in, frowning when he saw her cradling her foot.

“Y-You’re hurt ?” He sat up more, his hair sticked to his sweaty forehead. 

She shrugged, she would heal anyway. It’s nothing compared to what he is going through. For the first time in her short life, she thought of the act of torture, for real, not just like something that existed and filled her world, but like something absurdly cruel… Before she could really come to any conclusion, he spoke again, his voice worried like it was more important for her to be hurt, like for him, it was just the way it was… Was it ?

“Does it hurt ?” he questioned her.

She shook her head no. It did hurt, but she didn’t want to worry him, she just wanted to know more about Earth and try to take his mind off everything.

He let his head rest back against the wall.

“Where were we ?” He still had some trouble breathing, she could see it in the way his chest moved. “Oh yeah. The college letter, right ?”

She nodded, yes ! Was Sam gonna tell their dad or not ?

“Right…” he took a deep shaky breath, and she couldn’t say if it was from his body still being broken, or from that weight on his chest, he always seemed to have when he talked about his father. “So at first Sammy didn’t tell our dad, because well, he knew dad wouldn’t like it. He knew I didn’t like it.”

Of course he didn’t, she thought, he needed Sam. And being alone with his father really didn’t seem fun… For a second, she wondered what would life be with a brother or a sister. But she will never know, her own father made it very clear that her “accidental” life was enough bother. 

“I didn’t want Sammy to leave” he continued. “He’s my baby brother. I gotta look out for him.”

He fell silent suddenly, apparently strangled by emotions, a tear rolled down his face. Her own stomach felt tight, the love Dean felt for his brother always moved her deeply.

She moved a little closer and put her teddy bear in his lap, she knew he felt lonely. It was part of the torture, the loneliness… She felt it too. 

He wrapped his hand around the small, dirty bear with a tender smile, almost amused.

“Thank you.” He looked down at the bear as he continued. “He is the reason I’m here, you know. Sammy died and I… I couldn’t let that happen, so I made a deal. My life for his. I would do it again in a heartbeat. He deserves a happy life.” 

And he didn’t ? 

He was tortured every single day, just because he saved his baby brother ? That sounded… wrong.

She knew a few reasons people would give up their soul. Money, success, fame... She never understood why those reasons exactly, these things didn’t mean anything down here. Those souls, they never lasted long on the rack.

But sacrificing your own soul for Love, those were the good people, the ones that really didn’t deserve to be here. Dean was one of them.

She looked up at his face, his eyes were watching nothing in particular, but she could tell by the thousand emotions passing on his face, that he was lost in his memories.

“Sammy loves fireworks” his thumbs brushed over the blood stained tummy of the bear. She frowned at him.

“Do you know fireworks ?” He finally looked at her.

She crossed her legs, noticing her foot was healed, and shook her head no. It sounded a little dangerous to her.

“It’s a tube filled with chemicals and when you light it on fire, it shoots up in the sky and makes a colorful explosion. Many people use it to celebrate a holiday” he half smiled. “Fireworks can be blue or red, gold, green, any color you want.” He reached over to give her bear back. She took him and placed the broken toy back in her lap.

A smile came upon her face, that sounded like something she would like.

“I hope you can see it one day, well night, you can only see it at night, because light only shines in the dark. This one time I got a whole box of fireworks, i was like 19 maybe. Sammy was 15. We had some rough hunts, one after the other and I could see it was wearing down on Sam, and it was the 4th of July.”

She didn’t dare telling him she had no idea what it meant, she was used to know only a part of what he was talking about. 

“Dad forbid it, but I disobeyed. I wanted to make him smile, he was so happy…” he smile faded. “I wonder how he is now. ”

She wanted to get him fireworks, she wanted to make him smile. No, she had to make him smile, if it was the last thing she did.

“Sorry, I was talking about the letter, I just… I just remembered night sky and...” he swallowed. “At least Sammy can still see night sky, stars. You never saw stars, Firefly, right ?”

She gave him a light smile, that seemed to make him curious. 

“Did you ever see the sky ?”

“I…” she started but didn’t finished her sentence. 

How dangerous was it to speak ? For him ? For her ? For Crowley and all the “people” she knew even if she hated them all. They had made her swear.

She looked around and turned her ankle to make sure it didn’t hurt and wasn’t broken anymore. Then got up on her feet.

It was the very first time since she knew Dean, that she saw him totally healed and, above all, not chained. His body just got whole again so it was free from the iron nightmares.

She took a deep breath, and thought hard for a second : What if Alastair came here and… What is the worst that could happen if she got caught breaking Hell’s number one rule ? They would torture him… They already did that the best they could. They would probably lock her up and never let her out… 

She looked at him for a long time, searching his confused face.

“Are you okay, kid ?” he asked in a frown.

“Come” she finally answered, offering him her tiny hand.

Dean’s Pov  

He stared at her palm, trying to process what she just said. He had never escaped this room, and the few times he got out of it, a demon just took him just next door, for unknown reason. 

“You…” he said but she just kept offering her hand.

Dean was scared. He was terrified even. Years of constant torture and humiliation had made him extremely sensible to threats ; and right now, all he could think of was Alastair’s voice telling him he hadn’t done the worst he could do yet, that some places in here could make him say yes in a heartbeat, but that it was funnier this way.

He hesitated. Alastair would be furious if he found him out… But her eyes were shining, and her hand didn’t shake at all. Something so strong was radiating from her. 

He got up, and just being on his feet felt weird now. No chains, no broken knees… His hand reached hers and she closed her surprisingly soft fingers around it, smiling so wide her pretty teeth showed.

The first three or four steps he took felt extremely weird, like his body remembered how to be active, move… There was something so alive about walking.

After balking a second before the door frame, he finally got out of his cell, led by the little girl in a fancy night blue dress, that seemed to fear nothing.

“Where are you…” he started.

But she turned to him, cutting him with panicked eyes and a finger on her lips. Then she shook her head “no”, making it clear that they had to be silent.

Dean was thorn. His eyes kept roaming everywhere, and yet he didn’t want to see anything. Hell was not just a word now for him, and the screams and begging was slowly triggering some serious panic attack deep inside of him.

His hand started to sweat.

The little girl stopped in her tracks, frowns and turned to him. Her big eyes searched his face, she obviously could feel how bad he was. She tugged at his arm making him bend a little on her, never letting go of his hand.

“You stay silent” she whispered close to his ear. “You never leave my side, I know the way…”

It somehow helped. 

He had no idea who she was, but what was sure was that this tiny lovely ghost knew what she was doing.

They kept walking and he started focusing on her, and only her, forgetting the arms trying to reach them and this horrible smell of sulfur, forgetting the burning hot and the freezing cold…

The way she moved was totally amazing, fast like a rabbit then careful and slow like a hunting cat, stopping to hide behind a column before a demon even showed up, like she knew Hell’s clockwork perfectly. And it calmed Dean a little : watching her move was like watching a dance.

After long minutes avoiding many dangers, they entered a very long corridor with no doors but an incredible cathedral ceiling. Dean didn’t think he would see anything like this in Hell, anything somehow beautiful… But his Firefly was really like a beacon in the eternal night. 

“No demon” he whispered.

“No…” her little voice answered, echoing on every tall walls. “This place is empty and useless, they say.”

“Useless…” he repeated, not really understanding.

At the end of the corridor, a huge door appeared, high like a house, thousands of symbols carved on it, and two huge marble gargoyles guarding it.

“They lost the key” she whispered even lower, guiding him to the door.

“What is on the other side ?” he asked, his breathing short with a mix of fear and hope.

She stopped, and suddenly let go of his hand to plunged her small fingers in the hole where the head of her teddy bear should be. She bit her lip in concentration, searching in the foam.

A little smile appeared on her face, and she started pulling at something. 

A key.

She took it out cautiously, blowing on it a little to take off the foam dust stuck on the weird yet beautiful key. It was way too small for the giant door, and yet, she got on her tiptoes to reach the little lock he hadn’t notice.

The little girl looked behind her a last time before she made one of the huge parts of the carved door move open. 

“Come” she said.

Carefully, he slipped inside the room and his breathing got stuck in his lungs while she slowly closed the door behind her. 

The room had no ceiling. It was made of four black walls that Dean wasn’t even sure were there because of how dark it was. And above them… The sky.

The shadows of trees and and leafs in the night and between them : the stars. Exactly like he remembered it. It must have been a peaceful night of summer, because the temperature was perfect, no burning hot and no painful cold… Just a soft breeze was gently caressing his skin and he could have swore he could distinguish the thousand characteristic smells of nature, of a forest.

A tear rolled down his face, falling in his ear as his chin was up, eyes glued to the sky, the stars and the moon.

It was like the room was both in that forest and out of it, or under it, like his Firefly and him were in the bottom of a well, open on the universe.

He felt her hand wrap around his wrist and turned to her for a second. She was as fascinated as him, her big wet eyes reflecting the moon, and her hand shaking a little.

“What is this place ?” he asked, but she only shrugged, never looking away from the crescent moon. “That’s where you saw the sky, Firefly” he understood.

She nodded.

They stood here, close to each other, her small hands holding his wrist on her right and the key on the left. Tears rolling down his face, and shaking his chest in silent. Not another word was said.

After a moment, she slightly tugged at his arm, and his heart sank. How could he go back to torture now ? How cruel was it ? But he couldn’t let her get in trouble, and maybe… just maybe one day she could take him here again.

He wiped his tears and followed her without a word. The second she closed the door behind them, the harassing heat was back, and the dreadful smell was the only thing surrounding them again.

She closed the door behind her and hid the key back in her teddy bear, making sure it was on the bottom of it. Before she could start to walk back to the horror of his cell, he turned her small body to him, and sink on his knees to hold her. 

“Thank you” he breathed out. “Thank you so much.”

Her skin was cool despite the suffocating heat, like it didn’t affect her at all, and no sweat was on her soft arms or back. 

She hugged him back hesitantly, wrapping her hands around his neck, and he felt her nose shyly closer to his skin, like she needed to know how his skin smelled.

He let go before her, and get up on his feet, murmuring something about going back. She took his index finger and led him like she did on their way here. 

Dean was lost in his thoughts. About life, about Earth, about the sky and the stars, memories of not appreciating it enough, of that time he told Cassie that just watching the sky was boring…

That’s why he didn’t feel her finger let go of him in an instant. 

“Dean winchester !” a horrible demon voice groaned. 

He looked up and started shaking. The beast was wearing it’s real form, twice taller than him, with horns coming out where his eyes should have been, and extremely long claws at the end of his too big fingers.

“How did you get out !” the demon half yelled.

Dean looked around : Nothing. No clue of his Firefly presence, or that she even was there once. 

And while the beast was dragging him by the arm harshly, he wondered if it was possible that his mind was beginning to make things up... 

            Alastair was furious, even angrier than he ever was. Hitting his face again, he kept asking :

“How did you get OUT ?”

But Dean didn’t open his mouth, not once.

When that demon that had found him entered, holding the little girl by the neck, Dean had two really strong contrary feelings at once : The infinite joy of now being sure he didn’t dreamed that, and the devastating pain of seeing her struggling against that giant monster. 

“Boss, we found her hiding. You think she might have helped him ?” the demon said, making the walls tremble.

“Oh yes she might, I’m pretty sure she did…” his torturer answered with a wicked smile. 

Y/n’s pov 

The demon dropped her to the floor of the cell. 

“Oh girlie, you are in so much trouble now.” 

She saw Dean cowered against the wall, already bruised and bleeding. Arms wrapped around his body to protect himself.

He tsked his lips in a way only he could, making her shiver, and hold on to her broken toy.

“Leaving your room AND taking my pet,” an eerie grin showed his yellow teeth, “You’re in for it now.” He motioned with his two fingers to the demon to handle Dean.

She couldn’t let that happen, it was her fault, Dean shouldn’t pay the price for her disobedience. She ran to stand in front of Dean.

“No.” She said, looking up at the monster, challenging him.

 He laughed at her and she clenched her little fists and planted her feet. She knew she couldn’t stop the torture, but right now, she couldn’t let it happen. The smell of his neck still clear in her mind, the sight of his happy tears falling on his face…

“You’re gonna stop me, child ?” he bent, to face her, his long sharp teeth inching towards her face. 

She held her head high, looking him in his black eyes with rage and took a step forward, the demon moving backwards. Her breathing got faster and she felt her anger burn her skin. 

He looked down at his feet apparently surprised that with every step she took, he moved more backwards, his long nails scraping over the floor, leaving deep crescents behind. He reached his arms towards her but he couldn’t reach her, like there was an invisible wall between them. 

Waves and waves of fury pulsated through her, making her feel tall for once, making her feel strong… 

“I-Impossible” he gasped.

Her grin grew wider, her hair started floating around her again. 

But it didn’t last... 

A immense power violently slammed her back into the wall as Alastair stepped forward. She fought back the best she could but he didn’t even break a sweat.

“You’ll need a whole lot more juice to over power me, girlie.” 

He stood straight before her. His power crushing her, her breath cut short. His grin made her feel sick as his eyes travelled over her with contempt. 

Her eyes widened when he grabbed her bear clutched tight in her hand from her.

“NO !” she yelled.

Her arms fought his power, reaching out for him, but with the flick of his wrist she was pinned against the wall once again. She was fighting him with everything she got. Eyes a flare, vibrating from the power inside of her. 

She could see Dean in the corner of her eye, he looked… scared. Was it of her ?

“You disobey, you pay.” Alastair said as he held Mister Teddy Bear, his eyes turning white as he set the bear on fire.

“N-No…” tears rolled down her face. 

Her stuffed friend was the only thing that fought her loneliness, her only true friend, they had been through so much together.

As she started sobbing, seeing the quick fire of Hell turning Mister Teddy Bear to ashes in seconds, she felt her heart sink in her stomach. Her nights would be so much lonelier now with no one to hold. But her days too, everything would be empty. 

The light in her eyes died down as did the flame. Mister Teddy Bear, reduced to a pathetic heap of dust…

“Stop crying, you’re nine years old, that’s too old to have a toy.” 

Alistair patted his hands together to get rid of the black ash. But in his hands was not only ash. Shining on the floor, a little reddened by the flame : The key. His eyes widened.

“Where did you get this?!” His hand grabbed her by the throat, his power pushed down on her, making the wall behind her crack under it’s force. “WHERE ?”

“L-let her go” Dean coughed, his breathing short, but Alastair ignored him, and the other demon stepped on his chest.

She kept her mouth shut. She had snatched it off of Crowley one day when he had pissed her off, hoping it was a key to one of her chains. But it didn’t fit… 

It looked different from a normal key. It was gold, a circle with a hook on top of it and three long teeth that looked it would never fit in any lock. But if Crowley kept it, it had to be important. So she tried every lock of Hell. 

“You STUPID girl, you just earned yourself an eternity of chains and horror” he sneered at her.

“It already is my life” her tears had stopped by now. 

This key seemed like a big deal, Alistair was not one to lose his temper so easily. He put it in his pocket. Turned his head toward the beast crushing Dean’s ribs with his weight.

“Take Dean to my room, it will be one Hell of a session” he winked towards the bloody man struggling to breathe, toying with his prey, as the demon dragged him out.

Y/n didn’t wave this time, her eyes fixed on the pile of ash on the floor.

“And you” he fisted her hair, making her look up at him. “Let’s give you a taste of real Hell.”

 ___________________________

               She walked carefully in the corridor, holding her long, puffed-out muslin dress up to keep it away from the blood and dirt. 

The cold air was biting her wide cleavage, upper back and neck because her hair was held in that tight bun. She could feel the freezing gold at her wrists and neck, and hanging from her hair. Her shoes were tight and high, she hated them.

Her steps resonated against the stone walls, but she knew no demon would be around.

She needed to see him, just once, since they had played with her like a doll since this morning, and she didn’t have a second for herself.

When she pushed the door, he was held by chains again, but whole, curled up in the corner, his clothes seemed to have been mostly burned, and a heavy smell of smoke was making the air barely breathable. 

“Dean” she said.

He looked up and his face lit up, his widened eyes reflecting her fancy appearance. 

“You look like a princess” he groaned with a voice still croaky.

“You won’t see Alastair tonight” she assured him.

“Is there a party ?” he scoffed, visibly bitter like he somedays were. “Have fun.”

“No one will visit tonight Dean” she repeated again, not knowing what she could add to that.

Then she turned around in a light sigh. He had every reason in the world to be that bitter, there was nothing more to say. But the second she was going to pass the door, he spoke again :

“Don’t let them hurt you, Firefly. You fight back if they touch you…” he cleared his throat. “You look amazing.”

  She entered the ballroom with that indifferent pout on her face she kept there all the time lately. Her sad feature hidden behind that disillusioned mask she wore every single day.

The room looked like the throne room of a rich castle, and all the demons were hiding their vileness in human bodies, dressed fancy, with smiles on their faces. But they didn’t fooled her. 

They stepped aside to let her enter, turning toward her in whispers. She walked in, her back straight, her hate making her back shiver under the noble lace.

“There she is” a voice came from the crowd.

And the first demon of all, in the body of a tall blond lady appeared, she was the only one wearing a dress more sophisticated than her own. 

“Lilith” Y/n curtsied slightly, clenching her jaw.  

The demon took her face brutally in her hand to look at it with contempt and nodded slightly.

“Maybe you’re right, Crowley” she admitted, letting go of her face and turning her back on her. “Maybe your accidental offspring could be a bride or a toy for our Lord when he rises.” she turned to Y/n again to look one last time from head to toe, and muttered low. “But I’m glad I won’t be here to see that.”  

When Y/n turned to walk far from that evil shrew, she came face to face with Alastair, and goosebumped appeared on her skin.

“Happy twelfth birthday, Girly” he smiled and she swallowed the angry lump in the throat.

“Y/n !” Crowley called, probably trying to get her away from his own enemies like he always did, not to protect her, but to avoid the humiliation of seeing the Ace in his hand being despised by anyone stronger than him.

She turned to him, but felt Alastair’s hand grasp her wrist harshly. He bent next to her ear and she could smell his fetid breath.

“I hope you die.”

Next Chapter on @roonyxx​‘s blog

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[collecting-stories]

Everywhere I’m Goin’ - JJ Maybank

Request: Can i request jjxreader where reader leaves obx one day and leaves jj a note and he is distraught about it but then she comes back after 2 days and he’s really angry at her at first but then he gets emotional and its loveyedovey? :) Your writing is really good

A/N: I lengthened the time apart to a year instead of two days. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

“She said she’d be here.” JJ piped up, checking his phone again. There were no texts from you. In fact, no one had heard from you since yesterday when you abruptly announced you had to leave in the middle of hanging out at the Chateau. When you were halfway out the door he had reminded you about going out on the Pogue and you’d said that you’d see him.

Except it was twenty minutes passed when they agreed to go out and you still weren’t at John B’s.  

“She’s not here though, is she?” John B replied, making a point of looking around at the group of them.  

You had been friends with the group since, forever, but you were always a little more removed. Never someone they hung out with individually or thought of first, you always felt a little like an outsider. You got to go along and observe but you weren’t ‘one of them’. JJ would be the first one to deny that claim and say that you were just as close with him as Pope or John B but you knew it was true. You just weren’t their first pick.  

“Well I’m going to check on her.”

“Dude, JJ!” John B shouted as JJ started to walk toward the road. “Can we just go? We’ll stop by later!”  

“Fine.”

Despite Kiara trying to calm JJ down and distract him from you being absent it was all he could think about. He kept checking his phone to see if you had texted but there were never messages. Even though you felt like you were on the outside of their group you had always been a constant and you being missing was sending JJ into a mild panic.  

When John B finally docked back at the Chateau at the end of the day, JJ was the first one off the boat. He headed straight for Kiara’s SUV, her following him close behind. She had promised to drive him over to your house when they got back to John B’s. His knee bobbed uncontrollably as they drove and when she pulled into your driveway, he was out the door immediately.  

The first thing he saw was the For Sale sign in your front yard. He raked his brain to try and think whether you had mentioned anything about your parents selling your house but he couldn’t think of it.  

“Did she say she was moving?” JJ asked Kiara, sounding desperate as he walked up the porch to try the door.  

“No she didn’t mention it to me.” Kiara said, shaking her head as she watched JJ go around to the back of the house. She looked around the yard, walking over toward the mailbox. The red flag was up and she opened the flap to look inside, pulling an envelope out. The word Pogues was written across it and she frowned, flipping it over to pull out two letters, one addressed to all of them and one just addressed to JJ.  

“JJ!” Kiara called, “there’s a letter!”  

“What?” The blond came back around the side of the house, boots hitting the pavement as he came over to check the letter, she was holding up for him. He swiped it out of her hand, tearing it open to read it. Kiara watched as he dropped onto the grass to sit and read the letter that you had left in the mailbox for him. She scanned over the one you’d written for everyone while JJ sat there in silence.  

“What did she say?” Kiara asked. You’d written that your mom was getting married and you were moving in with your dad in Chapel Hill. Or that you had moved in.  

“She’s gone.” JJ said, staring at the paper, “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

There was more to your letter for him. You confessed that you’d always felt on the outside of the group, never quite as close to any of them as they were to each other. But also, that you had a crush on him. One you’d had since you were in middle school. Twelve-year-old you had only started hanging out with them because of your crush on JJ. But you knew it was unrequited and you knew that you might not see him again so you felt okay telling him.  

After that he tried to text you a few times and he even called a handful of times as well. You had blocked them all from your social media, trying the ‘fresh start’ thing for the first time in your life. Despite only being three hours away from the island you figured the chances of ever seeing them again were slim to none.  

-

The universe had a funny way of working though and your mom, who had moved to Figure Eight after she got married, had a baby a year later. Seventeen years apart from your new sibling, the last thing you truly wanted to do was return to the Outer Banks but you did. At least, hopefully, on the Eight for a weekend you wouldn’t see anyone you knew.  

“Oh my god,” except you did.  

Your mom ordered groceries from Heyward’s without mentioning it to you and it was JJ who walked through the open kitchen door, setting the bags on the island before he realized what he was looking at. You, standing there at the refrigerator.  

“JJ-”

“What the fuck...you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” JJ cursed, stepping back and running a hand through his hair, a little darker than it used to be. He shook his head in disbelief, eyes wide.

“JJ I-”

“No...you cannot possibly have any kind of explanation.” He said.

“Please-” You moved toward him but he backed away.

“Stay the fuck away from me. You’re nothing but a fucking liar.”

“I didn’t lie, I-”

“You said you were leaving...without even fucking saying goodbye! And now here you are fucking hanging around the Eight like it’s no big deal!” He almost shouted, “I tried to call you...I...I sent you so many texts and you never answered!”

“I’m sorry...I-”

“No.” He shook his head, backing toward the door and holding his hand out to keep you away from him. “No.” He repeated.  

You watched him run out the door, something in your mind clicking as he passed through the threshold. You couldn’t walk away again, letting things just dissolve. It’d caused you a world of grief and it was clear from JJ’s behavior that you weren’t the only one that you’d hurt.  

“JJ!” You ran out the door after him, following him down to the jetty. You saw Pope stand up in surprise, looking at you with shock but you were focused on JJ. He stopped, back to you, and you watched as he ran his hand through his hair again, tilting his head forward as his shoulders sunk.

He turned back to look at you, eyes red, “what are you doing here?”

“My mom had a baby.”

“Why did you leave?” He asked.  

“I had-”

“No, why did you leave us? Me? We had a good thing going and then you’re just gone? With a fucking note in the mailbox like I’m supposed to not give a shit about you? That’s bullshit! I loved you.” He shouted, deflating by the end of his rant, shaking his head as he admitted, “I love you.”

Pope looked away awkwardly, moving further onto the boat to give you privacy though you could see him watching from the window either way.  

“I just didn’t think it mattered-”

“Yeah I got you’re letter.”

“I’m sorry. I just felt like, if I left it wouldn’t matter and I didn’t wanna do a big goodbye. I didn’t think I’d be back, honestly.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Chapel hill.”

“Fuck.” JJ cursed, “you were fucking three hours away?”

“I’m sorry.” You said, sounding more like you were pleading with him to accept your apology.  

“Why did you...we coulda worked it out, you didn’t have to just...disappear.” JJ replied.  

“I didn’t know you liked me.”

“Yeah well, I do.”  

“So...what do we-” In one fluid motion JJ walked back down the jetty to you, grabbing your face and kissing you. Head fuzzy, you knew enough to kiss him back, fighting a smile when he pulled away to talk.  

“Well I’ll tell what, I’m not fucking letting you go off without saying anything. I’ll follow you all the fucking way to Chapel Hill if you do.” He replied.  

-

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[cynic-spirit]

The Poem Series (30) Control Is Just A Myth– John Wick Mature**

All Previous parts here

The following morning Diana wakes up after John. When she goes to the kitchen, she can already smell fresh breakfast and coffee. Diana greets John,

Good Morning John

Good morning love

Diana clears her throat ..

Good Morning what John?

John realizes what she meant. He corrects himself.

Good Morning Professor.

Now John if you repeat it, I will have to punish you, remember that.

Yes professor.

Serve me breakfast.

Yes Professor.

John serves her breakfast and is about to sit with her then realizes, he smiles and asks her.

May I sit professor?

Yes you can John. No talking during eating John.

Yes Professor.

John and Diana eat their break fast in silence. John has never felt so turned on by being at her beck and call. Years and years of control has gotten to him, and he just does not want to think anymore. He knows, deep down, this is what he wants and would love to make her happy.

Thank you for the breakfast John, I am going to get ready now.

Yes professor.

Diana goes to get ready. So far, this is going well, she thinks. A part of her is also enjoying dominating the powerful assassin. She knew it was important for John. In many cases, the male will seek out a strong dominant female who will allow him to reverse roles from what he is normally used to on a daily basis.  He is looking for someone who will take control.  Someone, who will tell him what to do, and control his every action,   Someone, who will put him “in his place’, and show him who is the boss.  Someone who will relieve him of all decision making and responsibility.  He is seeking someone who will give him orders, and will punish him when he falls short of her expectations. She wore her stockings and dress after bath and came up with pushing it a little more. When she came out of her room all ready for the day she found John sitting on one of the couches. She sat in front of him and decided to play her own little game of domineering him.

She wanted to see how John would react.  She gradually kept pulling on my dress until the hem was up above the tops of her stockings, and some of the garter belt was exposed for view. John tried to act like he didn’t notice, but it was obvious that his eyes kept darting back and forth between table in front of him, and her nylon clad legs.  It was a good sign she remembered as per reading in the book, and told her that yes, he liked what he saw. 

The view from John’s large French Window was beautiful, but by now, John was more enthralled with the view of her legs than the majestic view of nature in front of them.  It wasn’t long before he reached over, and casually hovered his hand on the top of her leg but then remembered the order.

May I touch professor? He asked.  

He tried to act very composed, but it was obvious to her that she was getting the desired reaction out of him from her actions. 

Yes You May John

Diana lets his hand caress her nylon clad leg, and slowly move up towards her crotch.  Just as he inched closer to the treasure hidden under my dress, she said “So, you like my legs?”

He was caught off guard, and tried to get out the words without stuttering that yes, he thought her legs were very beautiful.  Diana figured that she’d press him further, and asked him if he liked a woman who wears nylons and garter belts, instead of pantyhose.  He almost turned bright red.  He obviously wasn’t expecting that question.  He finally admitted that yes, he thought that the nylons and garter belt combination were much more exciting and sexy than pantyhose. Diana smiled and let him move his hand further up her thigh until his hand was totally in between my legs, and he was caressing her mound through her sheer panties.  While his hand rubbed her crotch, she leaned over and placed her lips. on his.  It was a very long passionate kiss.  As they began to move our tongues into each other’s mouth, she placed my hand over his crotch.  It was obvious that John was very excited judging from the bulge in his pants.

After a few more very passionate kisses, she lifted his hand from her crotch, and said “I think you should now drop me to college now John”.

John looked at her with pleading eyes but did not argue.

And John…no touching yourself till I come back or without my permission.

There was no argument out of him.  He immediately started the car, and headed to the college.  It was also obvious that he was driving a lot faster going back to town, than he ever did.

Diana carries on her day as usual. She orders John not to come pick her up, she would come in a taxi. When she comes back she looks at John who is cooking in the kitchen. Diana greets John with a kiss on his arm and asks him to continue his cooking while she freshens up. She has something in mind. While John was in the kitchen working on the bottle of wine, she went to her bedroom and changed into a more seductive outfit that she had bought today with Skylar’s help.  She figured that she’d hit him with something a little sensuous, and see how he would react.  She shed her dress, and changed into a black corset, which accentuated her bosom and curves, and matched the stockings and heels which she wore. 

She also added a leather collar, just for a special touch.  Looking in the mirror, she decided that the outfit went very well with the garters, stockings, and high heels, and should blow him away. When she returned to the kitchen, and he turned around, Diana got just the reaction she had hoped for.  His eyes almost popped out of his head, and he almost dropped the bottle of wine on the floor. 

“Wow”, was all he said. 

She said “I assume you like it!” “Bring that bottle of wine and the glasses into the living room, and pour me a glass”. 

It was more of a command than a request, and he quickly carried them into the living room.  She sat down in a recliner, and pointed to the end table near me, indicating where he should place the wine.  He immediately picked up the bottle, poured a glass, and handed it to me.  “Very Good”, she said.  “Now pull that ottoman over her, and sit by me, after you pour yourself a glass”.

There was no argument on his part.  He immediately pulled the stool over in front of her recliner and sat next to her.  They made some more small talk. 

While they talked, it was very obvious to Diana that he could not remove his eyes from her breasts which were pushed up by the corset, or her nylon covered legs.  Finally, she decided to see how far she could push his submissive side today.

“I’d really like it if you would massage my legs”, she said.  “Why don’t you start down at my ankles?” She didn’t even have to ask twice.  John immediately slipped his body off the ottoman, knelt down on the floor in front of her and began rubbing her ankles.  She could see that John was already very excited.  As he worked his hands up her legs, caressing both of them, She told him that it would be nice if he would also kiss her legs.  “Yes professor” he said and once again, he quickly responded by placing soft passionate kisses on her legs. She allowed him to work his way up to the top of her thighs, and then she gently pushed his head back down all the way to the tips of her stiletto heels. 

“That was nice John, but this time I’d like you to start at my heels, and work your way up”. 

She guided him by raising one of her heels and pushing the tip of the stiletto up to his mouth.  He instinctively allowed me to push the heel into his mouth, and began kissing it. 

. “Good Boy John”, she said.  “You can now work your way back up my legs”.  As he started kissing her legs once again, she noticed that the bulge in his sweatpants was bigger than ever.  This time when John reached the top of her thighs, she spread my legs apart, placed her hand on his head, and pushed his mouth between her legs.  He knew what to do right away.  He pushed the fabric of her thin thong to the side, and he slid his tongue over her clit. 

“That’s good John”, Diana said.  “Show me how much you want to make love to me”. 

That’s all she had to say.  He quickly began pushing his tongue into her vagina, sucking on her clitoris, and licking her passionately. As John worked his tongue and mouth at a faster rate, Diana began pressing her body against his mouth, harder and harder.  She was very glad to see that he knew how to please a woman with his mouth.  That is a most important trait.  She soon experienced an explosive orgasm, and held onto his head, pulled his long black hair, pressing him even tighter between her legs. When she finally released his head, and allowed him to come up for some air, it was very obvious that he was extremely excited. She gave him a long passionate kiss, and pulled his head against her breasts.

“Would you like more John?” Diana asks and John in his breathless way says, “yes, professor”

Diana decided to see how far she could push him tonight. She got up from the recliner, took him by the hand, and told him to follow her.  She led him into their bedroom, where she told him to remove all his clothing.  As he was removing his clothes, she made it a little difficult for him, by running her hands over his body.  When he took his t-shirt off, she placed her mouth over one of his nipples and began to suck on it.  The reaction was just what she expected.  He began to shiver, and let out a low moan. Once he had removed his underwear, she slid her hand down, and took a hold of his cock.  It was getting bigger by the minute.  She turned her attention to his other nipple, and ran her tongue over it, while she massaged his cock.  Soon his cock got hard as a rock, and his body was going limp as putty in her hands.  She guided his naked body back towards the bed, and pushed him onto it. Diana then reached into the end table next to the bed, and took out a blindfold which she slid over his head.  John moaned “Oh god!Diana..” then immediately corrected himself, “Sorry professor” . 

“Don’t worry”, Diana said.

“I want you to just enjoy the pleasure I am going to give you.  You gave me an awesome orgasm, and now I am going to return the favor to you! Now hands on the bed, no moving John, no moving hands from the bed”

“Yes professor”

Diana kissed him, and began running her hands all over his chest, and then down his body to his thighs, and eventually to his groin area.  While she licked his nipples, she rubbed his balls, and massaged his cock.  When she was sure that he had let his defenses down, she ran her hands up both his arms, pushing them towards the head of the bed, where she already had a pair of handcuffs attached to the headboard. She took one of his wrists, slid it into the handcuff and locked it.  Before he even could react, She got his other wrist locked into the second handcuff.  Diana told him.  “I think you’ll enjoy what I have in mind!”  Also to reassure him, she kissed him, and slipped her tongue into his mouth, while she ran her fingertips seductively all over his body.

Throughout this ordeal, John was reduced to a whimpering mess. He had no idea what to feel, all he could feel was pleasure. He could not think straight, he enjoyed being at her mercy, he was at her mercy, and he would love to be in this position forever.

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