#John x you

[meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender]

Summary: When the god of the Winter needed a messenger, he had chosen you. Yet your elders wanted you dead. But John Price, the god of the Winter, had other plans for his devotee. Eventual Poly 141.

A/N: Leaving this here, then backing away slowly. If you like, please comment and reblog. Special thanks to @itsagrimm for editing, even though you aren't into the type of writing. Thank you to @ethereal-night-fairy and @wildflower-and-honey for feeding my brain worms. I love you three and cannot thank y'all enough <3 Thank you, @saradika, for your beautiful dividers that I use in literally everything.

CW: (18+) Children begone! PIV smut, swearing, a Dyslexic wrote this, Religious Kinks, brief mention of suicide, brief mention of hypothetical pregnancy because what is John Price without a breeding kink? Voyeurism, exhibitionism, praise kink, elements of paranoia, and mindreader elements.

NO AI

Leave a comment and reblog!

You had been abandoned. Sent aimlessly into the east by your deceiving elders to find the oh-so-benevolent god of Winter. Your people had discarded you, and perhaps, you had now been forsaken by the Holy One. Under the new winter moon, you had no bearing in these strange woods. You were lost and without hope. Stumbling into a thicket, you paused, catching your breath. Once your village elders cut your binds and removed the blade from your still bleeding throat, you ran. You had three options now: find the Winter God John Price and beg for mercy, return home to your village to die by your elder’s blade, or finally, die by a frozen death.

 

Yanking down the sleeves of your dress, you shivered. Only a fool would think the thin lace would be enough to fight the cold. You hadn’t bothered to ask for a cape when you would be dead come dawn by the blade of your elders or the mercy of winter’s chill. Besides, if the elders thought it could help entice the winter god closer to you, you welcomed the possibility. The god liked fine things- the fragility of ice coating sleeping trees, the nuanced tendrils that composed a snowflake, the finespun embroidery on an altar cloth. Perhaps the gossamer lace of your gown would make you look as alluring as snow?

 

Your village worshiped the god of the East along with his three other seasonal counterparts. In the winter, the altar faced east for John. In the spring, it faced north for Kyle. In the summer, the altar faced west for Johnny, followed by facing south in the Autumn for the one they called Ghost. You traversed the mezzanine of the aged temple as if it was your birthing ground, dedicating yourself to the unknown and to what divine vexed within. 

 

A creature howled in the far distance, three more joining in the call. You wished you had a blade for protection, but the foolish  elders would not allow it after the last messenger sent to find the God of Winter killed himself. He died from fear of the gods with his body left for the animals starved for winter scraps according to the elders. The collapsed skull and bloodied rock meant otherwise. You would become like the warrior- murdered- if you didn’t keep moving.

 

At least you’d be dead if you stopped moving, and wasn’t that something to rejoice over for the elders? They wanted you gone the moment you opened your mouth, defending the holy temples in a burning righteousness against their infidelity. The elders mocked your faith, staging a spectacle to rejoice in their perceived standings with the holy gods, to enshroud their continued greed of village resources, and holy temple offerings while preventing you from stepping foot inside the sacred temple. 

 

All you wanted was to worship your gods in peace and for your village to know that peace. 

 

A branch snapped in the distance. Setting your foot down ever so quietly, you glared into the darkness of the night. In your chest, your lungs froze as if a tiny breath could lead starving beasts toward you, but your heart tapped a wild rhythm against your bones like a war drum urging warriors forward in battle. Between the bones of the trees, a figure raised from the ground. Dirt quaked in its path, fearing the disturbance as flashes of odd whites and black wove into a tall, hulking beast emerging like smoke. The vaporous monster inhaled. It was as if he sucked the forest in with his expanding breath, the conductor of the skeletal structure of the land. The one who assembled appendages of bone like armor and crown, marking his distinct otherness to any creature known before. Opening his eyes, bright gold light flared from its eye sockets, a perpetual fire, locked on burning you alive.

 

You ran. Barreling through the underbrush, thorns cut and tore at your dress, slowing you down. Pushing deeper into the woods, you dared not glimpse back at the monstrous shape. The gods, you prayed, would give one last indulgence by sparing your life. Dodging fallen trees and saplings, you heaved for a breath. Your toe caught on something sending you tumbling forward, down the hill, to be stopped by a mangled stump. There was little to be felt from the roar in your mind and blood careening to endure, to run, to survive.

 

Looking up, the terrifying haint peered down at you with its head tilted to the side, lazily biding his time hunting you. Fleeing, you made way towards the river that supplied the village with water. The monsters couldn’t cross the running water at the bottom of the ravine. Everybody knew that. Your breath created puffs of smoke with each gasp of air, streaming from your lips like a dragon’s purr.

 

Down at the river, you paused, cursing at your luck. The river was frozen over, but how deep the ice went was beyond you. You had to cross, fighting for a chance at life and to find John Price to appeal for assistance proving your claims. Taking a deep breath, you ventured on the ice, straining your ears for cracking and shifting sounds. Freedom sang like a siren from the other side of the waters with the promise of faith delivering you into her hands. On the other side was an assurance of one more day in your beloved temples with the beloved gods, of life, and of being free from the elders.

 

Without the freedom to roam the holy grounds of faith, what would be left for you?

 

You slipped with a screech, flailing until you caught your balance. Your hands trembled as breath fogged the air. Crossing was the only option, regardless of death prowling down to find you. The thought of the being sent shivers down your spine, and you squeezed your eyes shut as if it would banish the evil and push you across the waters.

 

“Stop!” A man bellowed like thunder echoing in the ravine. You jumped, slipping on the ice. With an assured crack, the ice broke, plunging you into the icy waters.

 

You gasped, choking on river water. Kicking to the surface, you were met with a ceiling of ice. You hit the ice with your hand to no prevail until the bubbles from your nose dissipated and a film of darkness descended upon your peripherals. In the gloom, eyes of golden fire shimmered at you, refracted by the ice, illuminated by the flash of lightning. 

It smelled like oak and spices as you inhaled. The bed you laid in was spacious, a soft luxury you sunk greedily into. Moments of time slowly returned to you as you stirred, until a tapestry unfolded, painting what had occurred in the woods to you. How you had survived drowning or hypothermia was beyond you, feeling none of it, now. Cocooned tightly in thick blankets, albeit naked as the day you were born, sleep still called in the comfort of the home. A warm crackle of a fireplace and the deep mutterings of men speaking filled your ears as you blinked. In your nest, you buried further in, savoring the needed heat with a sigh with your eyes peeking over the cover.

 

The two men, seated in the corner, had stopped conversing to stare at you. One was slim but muscular, with dark skin and shining brown eyes. He wore a grin both authentic and sly as if mischief personified, waiting for his time to strike and laugh at your mild misfortune. 

 

The other man was a bear. Thick, burly, legs with sizable thighs spread to consume room; it seemed all he did was call attention to himself. The cocky spread of his legs to the icy blues of his eyes; your neck burned as he smirked, having caught you staring.

 

“Hello, Fawn,” The bear rumbled, intentionally softening his voice and leaning down as if afraid to spook you like the little deer.

 

“Ghost found you,” injected the younger one. “It took him and Soap to pull you from the ice and bring you home. That was pretty stupid; getting on the ice like that. Haven’t people told you not to do that?”

 

Getting on the ice was stupid, but letting yourself get consumed and murdered by a beast was even worse. You had half a mind to tell the younger man your thoughts on the matter, but here you were, naked in a stranger's bed… alive. While grateful, you needed to leave. The task to find John and plead for his assistance in clearing the village of your awful elders still loomed, as did the precarious nature of being nude in a room of two strong men. 

 

“I’m looking for someone,” You mumbled. “I had no choice.”

 

“I know,” The older man hummed before speaking your name like a whisper of wind on your ear. 

 

The God of Winter . Your spine went straight before you bolted upright, clinging the blankets to your chest. These men were not men at all but your four holy gods. There was half a mind to shuck off the blankets and fall to your knees in reverence. You had offered prayers while bathing before; was this any different? As you shifted, apologized, and begged for pardons on the tip of your lips, John shook his head and stood.

 

“Gaz, go let Soap and Ghost know our fawn is all right,” John said, clasping Gaz on the shoulder. Gaz promptly left the room, closing the wooden door behind him, not before offering you one final comforting grin.

 

“I am sorry. I had to find you. The elders sent me to the woods to murder me. And… I didn’t know what else to do but to seek your help. I’m so sorry, please forgive me. The elders are murdering anyone who dares question them. Nobody believes me even though I have proof! The village will not survive the winter because of our elder’s theft from them and of the temple and I need your help. I have done nothing wrong except be loyal to you, John,” You rushed out in a single breath. “Please, help me. Help us .”

 

John set his hand on your cheek, running his thumb over your warming cheeks. A violent shiver sprung through your body, encouraging you closer to the god. You closed your eyes and nuzzled into his palm, lulled by the smell of spices and the alluringness of being physically held by him. Finally, you had removed the burden of secrecy and responsibility and John took it lightly with his hands soothing the ache from your skin with the glide of his fingers. 

 

“Love, you’re being too harsh. There is no reason to apologize,” He reassured you with a kiss on your forehead. “The fault lies with your elders. You have done all I have asked of you and more. Do not agonize yourself over the stubbornness of others. It will get you nowhere.”

 

You closed your mouth and held his wrist, keeping him to you. You thought of all your nights spent praying to the god of Winter when sleep evaded you. When you screamed or cried your prayers in agony, begging the divine god of winter to make himself known to you so that your faith was not in vain and your people could be free from the elders. 

 

But what of your people? What choice would they make? The old gods were worshiped only in tradition and the elders had slowly pushed your people further from the gods as the temple began to deteriorate. 

 

You were always dedicated to the divine in odd ways. Observant gifts of John’s favorite flowers and drinks were left on your homemade altar—prayers written on little papers in a box. Spare time spent tending to the aged temple and cleaning it, preparing it for worship. Devotion in wearing John’s favorite color as a ribbon around your wrist, bearing his color like a mark of ownership over you. 

 

It was… your stomach clenched as you remembered bathing in his favorite fragrances, the soap trailing between your breasts, water falling as gracefully as the curves of your skin, for his solstice day. Later that night, deciding to offer John an orgasm on a lust-induced whim. When you came down from your high, you swore you could feel the divine by your knees, looking down at the mess you had made, dribbling into the sheets. The idea of him voyeuring into your bedroom made you leak, reaching a bold hand down to part your lips for him to see your swollen clit.

 

“What you want from us, little Fawn,” John tilted his chin to look you in the eyes as his warm toned voice dipped between your thighs to make them clench. “Comes at a high cost for you.”

 

“And let my people suffer from the elder’s greed? Surely, you understand how harsh winter can be! And to let the gods lay waste when this is proof you still are near has to be blasphemy. I don’t want to die, but I’d rather try dying than be left bystanding in silence, rotting away-”

 

John took your neck in hand and hulled you to your feet. Your words died on your tongue as his nose pressed into your cheek. Chests pressed together, his human form radiated heat and softness protecting layers of muscle and power. You wondered briefly if his divine form would look more bear or beast, unleashing the thrum of calculated energy pulsing inside the god.

 

“Fawn, martyrdom is for suicidal fools. Not even the martyrs ask for their portion, they stumble upon it trying to uphold the will of the gods which threatens the portions and powers that be in your mortal world,” John shook your head ever so slightly, pressing closer until you gasped, looking up at him with wide eyes. Dark as ice, they pierced into you flickering from your eyes to your mouth, the urgency he held you with inching into territories you were unsure of but eager to explore. His eyes flickered down for a moment, and you shivered at your exposure, pressing your face into his neck as if to hide. “You will stay the night but come dawn, you must return home to live for us.” John instructed, pushing your hair from your neck. Leaning down, he nipped the bottom of your ear playfully, kissing along your neck.

 

You hummed, offering your neck to his lips. It didn’t matter if you had laid with a million other people before or none at all. You yearned for the assured solidity of the gods, and now you had it. They could have your body, the works of your hands, the words of your mouth, the paths of your feet. You only wanted to be near John, safe, nestled into his side, even if for a little while. To be welcomed into the god of winter’s bed for even a night? The idea made your thighs slickened with want, heat pooling in your stomach.

 

Everything in your bones wanted to please him, to let him have his fill of you, to honor him with the best of your skin and body. You’d get on your knees for him. Suck his cock until you are panting, with his cum on your tongue. You wanted to be good . You let out a little whine, a soft vibration in your throat. John chuckled, coming up from your throat to kiss you properly, all while moving you on the bed.

 

He kissed down your throat, gently touching your chest with the hints of friction making you squirm, tangling your fingers in his hair.

 

“I want you to soak my fingers and cock with this pretty cunt tonight, Fawn” John decidedly spoke. You eagerly nodded, humming as his hand squeezed the fat of your stomach. 

 

You opened your thighs as he descended between them, grinning as he knelt before you. You could have laughed at his eagerness if it wasn’t for the gentle, inquiring sweep of his finger through your folds, collecting your wetness. A sigh fell from your lips as he played with your cunt, a pleasant warmth filling your mind as your legs found a home on his shoulders, your hand on the back of his neck, scratching the short hairs there.

    

“Been thinkin’ about this pretty pussy since you showed her to me,” John growled, thumb swirling on your clit just as you had when you played yourself for him. Your knees bent, pushing your pelvis to catch the angle just right . “Offered me use of your body, a delicacy, to use as I please. Perfect little human for me to fuck whenever,” He growled before putting his mouth to work, sucking on your clit.

 

You keened, bucking your cunt into his face. John devoured you whole, feasted on you, your head in the clouds, floating with nothing to tether you but his mouth. The god of winter’s fingers prodded your entrance, slipping in with a slight stretch. His fucking hands, reaching depths you could never achieve on your own, made you moan, opening your eyes to watch him. From below your stomach, John was fully committed, eyes closed, grunting against your cunt.

 

John fought against your legs, drawing out the pulsing waves of pleasure until your ears were ringing, vision white, cresting into a beautiful brainless hum as your body went limp. 

 

“Fuck, John, I can’t,” You whimpered, pushing his forehead back. Your chest heaved, hands grasping for anything you could reach until he slid his hand in yours, anchoring you to him. He moved, and you closed your sticky thighs, clenching at the slick dribbling down. John reverently kissed your collarbone, hands brushing over your scalp, lulling you from the cloudy space.

 

His lips kissed along your neck and chest as his hands wandered along your hips and thighs, rough fingers tickling the sensitive skin of your ass. Your eyes opened, greeted by his gentle gaze as he hovered over you. His mouth had been pinkened by your cunt, hair mused by your thighs and hands. 

 

Grabbing his hand, you kissed his palm before licking the fingers that had been inside of you moments before. Something was intoxicating about the way you tasted, strong and delicious. Taking his fingers in your mouth, you hummed, thinking about how much thicker his cock would feel. John swore, pushing his fingers against your tongue, stilling your control. You moaned, letting your eyes close and legs fall open. Holding his arm, you could feel how your tits were pressed together by your biceps, making you not only a sight but a spectacle .

 

“Want my cock that bad, little fawn?” John teased. Opening your eyes, you nodded, nudging him closer with your foot. Removing his fingers, he drug his hand down your centerline, leaving a cold trail of your spit down your body. He slowly entered you, grunting with his eyes glued to the way you sucked him in.

 

“Fuck, John,” You whimpered, panting at the fullness pressing you open. His thumb rubbed your clit, lulling you back to another orgasm. Spreading your legs, he placed a knee on the bed as he began to thrust, covering his cock in your frothy slick.

 

It was hot and so, so full as he reached parts of you that had you gasping for air and tearing up. There was no pinch, only a subtle burn from the stretch, soothed by his cooing in your ear and thumb working wonders on your clit. Shifting his hips, he fed you more of his cock, making your vision go frayed around the edges. If your brain could leak away, it would slowly leak out with the wetness of your cunt.

 

“Just like that, fawn,” John encouraged, making you clench around him. “My little offering to take as I want, letting me use you like a good girl,” John grunted as you clenched around him, his hands falling to your stomach and hip, selfishly grasping at the plush skin to pull and drag you off his cock with.

 

“I’m,” You whined, clawing at the god’s massive arms, rippling with movement. “Please, John! Feels so good, filled up,” You babbled, trying to run closer and further with each thrust.

 

His other hand laid over the base of your throat, curling possessively around, forcing your eyes to his, forehead to forehead, as he pressed and pressed into your cunt, stretching you wide and filling you perfectly.

 

“Pretty wet cunt, dripping for me,” John’s lips brushed your ear, moaning into it. He reached a hand to gently pinch your nipple, making you gasp. “Rub yourself for me. Let me see you soak my cock.”

 

You slid a hand between your thighs and rubbed your clit, spreading your lips wider, feeling fully exposed, unable to help the moan and the chasing buck of your hips, humping the tight heat pooling in your stomach.

 

“Cum, love. Cum for me.”

 

You listened, you always did, a perfect little offering for him to use. You fought to keep your eyes open as you came, body convulsing, to show him what he had made you into. But when your fingers became too sharp, the pleasant hum of blood in your head turning into a sharp ringing, you went limp, thighs covered in slick cum as John took his final thrusts. Ropes filled you as his hand lovingly smoothed over your lower stomach. He rested his forehead on yours, panting as he lazily kissed you, his cock twitching as you warmed him. 

 

“You okay?” John whispered from his place between your breasts as you scratched the back of his head.

 

“Sore,” You hissed as he slipped from you but was quickly scooped into his arms and laid across his chest. “M’tired,” You confessed, closing your eyes with a soft sigh.

 

You would be content to lie on his chest for the rest of time, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, wrapped in the warmth of his broad arms. Everything about you felt small compared to him; the way his hands engulfed yours, the way your calves had laid over his shoulder, the ripple of muscles and fat as he had fucked you. 

 

“I need to clean up,” You mumbled, fingers following the lines of his pectorals. 

 

“In a moment, darling. We’ll both clean up.” John kissed the top of your head, reaching for a glass of water for you to drink from before he took a few sips.

 

The god of Winter leaned down and kissed you so gently, soothing the aches with gentle hands against your thighs. Though, you felt it was more an excuse to touch your thighs more, but you didn’t mind. After cleaning up, you fell asleep swiftly, draped over his chest as his fingers traced dainty traces of snowflakes along your spine, tended to and protected. 

In the morning, you woke in your own bed, dressed in the robes of a high priestess, as someone pounded on your door. As you rose, you felt the phantom aches of the previous night between your thighs. Quickly hiding the robes, you caught the white scars of John’s handprint over your womb, etched like silver ice into your skin.

 

“One second!” You yelled, dressing. Once you were decent, you threw open your door and gawked.

 

“There’s been a war party! They burnt the elder’s homes and the wheat stores! We need help!” The man took you by the arm and pulled you into the fray of dark smoke against the blooming pink winter sky. It was snowing, melting into water that slid down your arm and into the frosted grounds.

[nztsume]

• waiting for the big twenty-five •

homelander x you

{“Only one more year till the big 25. Aren’t you excited?”

This piqued at his curiosity. “What’s the big 25?”

“It’s when your brain finishes developing.”, you replied, remembering the information from back in the day, when you were still trying to get your Psychology’s degree. “Your frontal cortex- the one in charge of your personality and all- it stops growing at around 25 years old.}

Even if you’re just kind of a glorified baby-sitter, you just want to see him happy - instead, you accidentally make him worse.

read on ao3

------

Hi yall!!! The voices won and I finally ended up starting to write the young homelander fic of my dreams where we find out how he ended up being the deranged insecure insane man we know and love!!

In this one, you're Madelyn Stilwell's niece who works at Vought- and have striken an unexpected soft spot for the company’s latest investment- this insecure, shy but sweet young hero called Homelander.

Enjoy!

• 1 •

July, 2005

Every single day, at exactly 5.30 a.m., Homelander was to be awoken by the smell of coffee on his kitchen table. The coffee had to be fresh, beans grinded that same morning, no sugar, no milk, no exceptions. To accompany it, he was to have his pills: two of creatin– for muscle growth, three of protein- to feed them, a weight gainer– so he would stop being so lanky, and an extra dose of vitamin D, to fight those pesky pimples guys his age still got sometimes. All of them should be in a small container, so he could swallow them at once with his first gulp.

Next to his coffee and his pills, he was to have a folder with any relevant document for the day- interviewer’s questions and the answers he was to give, profiles of important people he would meet, scripts for any ad he was to film. All of that, including his schedule for the day- except that was to be read to him by you. This is how Maddie had told you it had to be done, and how you’d done it since day one.

You looked at your wrist watch, holding his coffee on your hand- piping hot, just how you knew he liked it-  and you yawned, watching the thinnest clock hand go round it, as the last minute before you could walk into his apartment went by. 

Finally, it was 5.25, and you could already walk in- so you did. 

You weren’t exactly his maid- he had several of those, but none of them were to do anything to his apartment whenever he was around. He wasn’t to have much contact with the normal civilians, the normies- as Maddie called them. You preferred to reserve your opinions at that- your aunt had changed a lot since she had started working here. 

What you were was Maddie’s secretary- and Maddie was Mr. Edgar’s secretary- or something. There was a fancier title for that, but you couldn’t recall it. All you knew was that she was aiming for vice-CEO or something, as it was the only thing she talked about whenever she dragged you to a bar after office hours, and insisted on drinking glass after glass of whisky.

As you finished setting things up, you appreciated the result- his cup of coffee, his pills, his documents and ah, a special surprise. One big, obscene chocolate cupcake, the kind where the chocolate topping is so rich that it spills and drips all over, with one beautiful strawberry on top, and next to it, one single candle. You weren’t sure if chocolate was his favorite, but you knew he had a bit of a sweet tooth- so he’d appreciate it, at least some. 

Finally, you took out your red lighter and lit the candle- and less than twenty seconds later, you looked up- and there he was. 

"Good morning, John.”, you put the lighter back on your blazer’s pocket, smiling at him. 

He blinked- eyes still not fully alert, as he scratched them. They were boring holes into the chocolate cupcake, and you couldn’t help to smirk a little- you knew he’d be interested in it. 

“Is that for me?”, he asked, surprised, almost like a child- and you laughed. Ever since you’d met him, about five or six months ago now, you’d felt like he was younger than his actual age- there was something about the way he stood in the middle of his own massive penthouse, like a kid lost in a big, elegant furniture showroom. Alone, quiet and shy, even when wearing his own super suit. It didn’t help that it was actually way too big for one person, with its tall, tall roofs, marble everything and sleek furniture- much less for an overworked twenty-something with no time for a social life.  

“Of course.”, you assured him. “It’s your birthday after all, right? Happy 24th!”

He pressed his lips awkwardly, trying to contain a smile- but that didn’t work, as he let out a laugh, and finally came to the kitchen island, almost a skip on his step. You couldn’t help to be glad- finally this kid was getting some happiness in him.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.”, you said, sarcastically, as he went to town on the cupcake, taking big bites out of it. He stopped for a second mid-bite, mouth full of chocolate, to look at you with a smile- and there was a gleeful glint in his eyes. Actually, that was enough of a thank for you. Anything that made that perpetual sadness that he always seemed to hold go away, even for just a few minutes, was worth it. You laughed at him. “Okay- just go for it. But don’t forget your pills!” 

“I can’t believe it- this tastes so good!”, he finally said, after taking another bite- in less than thirty seconds he had eaten half of it. Unbelievable! “Best birthday gift ever!”

“Oh- shush.”, you crossed your arms, leaning back against the counter, watching him take a big gulp of coffee. “Just wait until you see what Maddie has gotten you- it’ll blow your mind.”

“I don’t think it’ll be better than having chocolate as breakfast.”- he set the last bite of the cupcake aside, finally taking the pill container, and eyeing them with disgust. You sighed- perhaps if they let the kid eat his breakfast he wouldn’t need those nasty pills- it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to burn it off in the training center literally thirty minutes later. You didn’t know much about supe genetics, but they couldn’t be too different from normal people’s, right?

You yawned again, this time covering your mouth to the side, as you let him have the rest of the cupcake and his coffee. You liked to give him some minutes of silence so he could enjoy it properly- you knew that that’s how you liked it when you had yours.

This morning in particular, you just wished you had gotten to drink your coffee alone- but your fiance was just arriving from a shift at the E.R., and you had to deal with his graphic description of a dick that had been cut in half by a broken wine glass. You were still trying to forget about it. At least you lived close enough to Vought- just a ten minute subway trip away - so you didn’t have to wake up much earlier than that. It was just lucky you knew how to do your make-up on the move, another time-saving skill you’d learnt in your college years. 

You heard him drinking the last of his coffee- doing that big slurp noise he always did, and you finally decided to take the document with his schedule- ready to tell him about his day. 

He was tired -he always was, but today he seemed particularly so, even behind the hint of a smile the cupcake had left him with. You could tell by his posture under those cheesy button up burgundy silk pajamas, shoulders too slumped, hips rested against the counter. You weren’t surprised- according to Maddie, ever since they’d debuted him close to two years ago to the public, he’d been worked non-stop. It was only time until he broke, you thought- but you could never say it to her. Your aunt had always been too good at pushing people further than they could reach, and too good at seeing only ahead of her; John was just another one of her subjects. 

“Alright”, you finally said, seeing the subtle move of his shoulders straightening at your voice, “Ready to hear about your day, birthday boy?”

He groaned in response, the hint of his smile completely being wiped away, “I guess…”

You pressed a smile for him, but mentally frowned reading over his schedule- he was packed, of course. “What’s that? Not excited about being 24?”, they’d even put an interview right after his birthday celebration- his 1 hour long birthday celebration. They as in Maddie and Mr. Edgar. “Only one more year till the big 25. Aren’t you excited?”

This piqued at his curiosity. “What’s the big 25?”

“It’s when your brain finishes developing.”, you replied, remembering the information from back in the day, when you were still trying to get your Psychology’s degree. “Your frontal cortex- the one in charge of your personality and all- it stops growing at around 25 years old. So you get only one more year of acting like a dumbass without people holding it against you.”, you added that last one joke to make him laugh- it worked. He wasn’t used to people throwing curse words around him. “Congrats!” 

“Just one more year, huh?”, he said, more seriously than you expected. “That’s kind of sad.”

“No way- it’s great.” you shook your head, “After 25… it’s like your brain rewires. You’re not embarrassed anymore, you get some self-esteem back from when you were a kid.”, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, remembering how stupidly shy you were back when you were his age. It wasn’t that long ago, really, just four years- but it felt like another lifetime, somehow. “10 out of 10, if you ask me. Anyway–”, you gave one more sigh, before turning your attention back to him, “Let me tell you about your day. So- it officially starts at 9.10 where you- oh. I didn’t know this. You’re getting a new suit!”

His eyebrows rose, “I thought that wasn’t until September.” 

“Hmm, maybe they wanted to launch it at today’s park inauguration for your birthday- which is at around 11.30, by the way. So you get your suit fitted and all, then it’s an one hour drive, and then the inauguration. After that, lunch, and after…”, she frowned. “You have to have tea with- with Margaret Pataki and her friends ...?” , no way they were making the kid spend his birthday with a bunch of rich old ladies that wanted to get in his pants. You couldn’t believe Maddie. What in the world could have they offered your aunt to get the privilege of The Homelander’ s time on his birthday? Unbelievable.  You huffed. “Well… too bad you have your weekly marketing meeting. You’ll have to miss it.”

“I thought that wasn’t until Thursday.”, he frowned, but there was a hint of relief behind his confusion. 

“It’s not-”, you shot a look at him, “But you should get to rest for a couple hours on your birthday, don’t ya?”, you winked at him- and then moved on, before he could protest any further. Better not to think about it too much, or you’d get extremely mad at your aunt. “And then… your birthday celebration!”

“You’re coming, right?”

You looked up from the paper, surprised at his sudden intensity as he cut you off. You found those crystal blue eyes boring at you- like you were another cupcake, expectating of your reply.

“ ‘Course.”, you simply smiled- surprisingly secretly pleased. You liked him- he was a nice guy, behind all the pizzazz that Vought put him through in front of the cameras. Perhaps too nice, in your opinion- there was some trauma somewhere in there, you could tell. But you didn’t weren’t close enough to him to recommend therapy or something, although you had suggested it to Maddie… who obviously shrieked at the thought of their golden child going to the shrink. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Johnny.” 

“Thank god-”, he sighed, rolling his eyes in sass, “If I have to deal with Stan or Madelyn or any of the other old farts there by myself, I’ll laser my own foot.” 

This made you laugh. It always surprised you whenever he showed a bit of bite, as it seemed like whenever he was with Maddie or Edgar, he seemed like the best behaved pupil in the boarding school- and whenever he was in front of the public, he was an absolute boy-scout. “Oh- come on. I’m sure Noir’s gonna be there too. I’m not your only friend here, you know?” She hoped so, at least. John seemed to like Black Noir, although his presence in the Vought building was far and apart, since they hadn’t officially re-debuted him under the company’s name yet.

He shot you one last skeptical look before taking the folder with the rest of the documents- this was your dismissal, and you took it. It was ten to six, and he had to be in the training center soon. 

“Anyway- I’ll take my leave. Maddie’s probably sent me my tasks for the day already.”, you heard a low distracted hum coming from him, already walking to the door. Before you left, you peeked at him one last time, before saying: “Happy birthday.”

He looked up just as you waved, and there was a hint of a smile in his face- good. You smiled back, and finally, slammed the door closed.

 

-

 

When you worked at Vought- more specifically, in their superhero division, every single day felt like standing in the middle of the sea during a storm- wave after wave of issues and tasks coming at you, suffocating you at times. Truth be told, you weren’t supposed to be working there- you were far too unqualified, both emotionally and academically. 

When your aunt Maddie had found out about your mother’s disease, she, of course, had refused to help her. She had always been resentful at how resentful your mom had been of her, at how she had chosen a professional life path while your mom chose to have you at just seventeen, dropping out of school to form a family. Just your average sisters’ feud, splashed with just a bit of new wave feminism and abandonment issues. However, knowing you had dropped out of college, Maddie was kind enough to offer you a job in her workplace- none other than Vought Enterprises. Big shot shit. 

She had told you that she wouldn’t make any promises, she wouldn’t work with you, and she wouldn’t slide you in with the big supes, where she worked. She had hustled her ass off to be where she was- she wouldn’t let your wormy little self run on the path she had so laboriously paved. You were okay with that- any corporation job would pay more than what you were doing in the dingy bar downtown where you’d been working since you dropped off college. Besides, you knew your aunt had never been all there- the love-hate she always showed you wasn’t personal, it was just a thing she did.

It didn’t help that you weren’t even more than seven years younger than her, so a lot of your childhood memories involved playing with her teen self. She was more a cousin than an aunt, to be fair. So there were a lot of things you could easily let slide- her insane mood swings was one of them. You knew she meant well- behind all of her power plays and degradation.

Either way, that didn’t end up happening- you working for a less important division, like pharmacy. As soon as she suggested Mr. Edgar to give you a job he was into the idea- he liked to keep things between family. And in hindsight, it was understandable. The things that happened behind the scenes for supes weren’t half as glamorous or exciting as they seemed to be on camera.

This morning had been particularly busy, the waves of work slowly turning into a tsunami, as Homelander’s birthday was a top priority for the entire department. He was the star, after all- had been for almost three years now. He was Vought’s face and voice, their personality. The bright eyed, all-american, charming, strongest to ever exist superhero. America turned into the shape of a man. Everything they’d ever dreamed, they were training into this twenty-something-year-old. Any excuse to celebrate him was good enough for them- because it was as if they were celebrating Vought itself.

That’s why you’d been running all over New York the entire morning. The tailor had managed to mismeasure John’s shoulders, somehow, and they needed two more of the handmade eagle feather golden shapes that went… well, you didn’t know where they went. You had only gotten the gist of it, along with a brown envelope to take to the goldsmith- any goldsmith that would get them done before 11.30 a.m., when Homelander was supposed to debut his new suit to the world, to mark a new era or something.

Luckily, it was 11 sharp as you ran through Vought’s main hall’s doors, and 11.04 as you knocked the costume division’s door on the 45th floor. You were breathless, knowing that he had to be on the other side of the city, to Fort Lee in less than half an hour- although seeing how tight they were, he was probably going to fly to the inauguration. The city council had granted him his very own children’s park after he’d saved a school bus from sinking into the Hudson a month ago, and they had chosen to inaugurate it the very day of his birthday. As if he had nothing else to do on that day.

Maddie opened the door, blonde waves all over the place, breath ragged. You knew the signs, she had been yelling at someone- and you were lucky it wasn’t you. You saw a flash of dark blue somewhere in the background and you knew it was John- and your curiosity was piqued. Would the new suit be too different? At least it seemed they’d keep his colors. 

“Where are they?”, your aunt demanded.

Wordlessly, you took out a fancy necklace case out of the bag you were holding, “I had to find a different place- our goldsmith was taking too long to decide whether he could do them or in time or not.”, you explained, as she snatched it off your hands and opened to inspect them. While she did that, you subtly went on your tippy-toes, trying to catch the new suit without her knowing. “I think they look just like the mold-so…” 

“Perfect.”, she concluded, slamming it closed, and she took one look at you, with those severe eyes of hers. “Go to the 72th. They need help with the party.” 

After that, she slammed the door on your face. Oh well- you’d see it later, hopefully. 

 

—

 

The 72th was a mess- as it always was, since it was the floor where most Vought only parties were held, the ones no outsiders should know about. Before, you would have thought that that meant something sexual- perhaps some sort of massive over the top superhero and congressmen orgy, the kind conspiracy theorists would talk about- but soon you found out it was not the case. Rather- it was the kind of party where millionaires would get drunk and discuss whether bombing another South Asian country would make them profits or not. You didn’t know which of the two types of parties were worse.

This time, though, at least the purpose of the preparations was much more innocent- just a small party for every person in Homelander’s life to celebrate him and his birthday. It was kind of impressive so many people showed up, in your opinion. It was the 4th of July, after all- most everyone would choose to celebrate it with their families at the park- or even just watch the fireworks from their TV at home. Instead, about twenty or more people were there, running around with you- decorating, inflating balloons, making every cookie in the dish look beautiful and photogenic. All for him- everyone wanted him to be pleased. You were sure that as long as he was allowed to eat enough of them, he’d be just as happy. 

One thing you ended up noticing about the attendees was the variety, or more like, the lack of thereof. Most people there were some of Vought’s scientists, the ones you only knew of by their pictures on the Vought’s Best wall. You wondered what they had to do with Homelander, or if they were there just for protocol. Maybe these were the kind of people Edgar wanted him to surround himself with. Important people- people who did good for humanity. 

And no, no Black Noir to be found.

Interestingly enough, even they were helping with the organization. Perhaps they were close, you wouldn’t know. You didn’t know much about John’s past aside from what you’d figured out by yourself- and what the public knew. 

Either way, he was about to arrive, and you were to get Maddie’s gift ready for him. The box was a bit too big for it- but it needed the space, you guessed. You just wondered if the box was necessary at all. 

Somebody heard the elevator sound starting to ding up- and began shushing everyone, as they started crowding around the room, hiding the big table with the cake and different foods that they had set up in the middle of the room behind them. You, of course, didn’t want to steal any spotlight from someone who could actually be important to him, so you placed yourself to the side, excited for him to arrive. You knew he was going to love this; he loved attention- even affection, as much as he tried to hide it.

The elevator finally dinged on their floor, and the doors opened, and-...

“Happy birthday!”, everyone shouted- only for Maddie to come out, her heels clicking as she saw on her that particular face she made when she scolded someone- her words drowned by their scream. Everyone made a confused noise- wasn’t it supposed to be…?

Then- a massive spot of blue walked in- a young man with wide shoulders, an unhesitant stroll and perfectly coiffed blonde hair- clad in an imposing red and blue suit. Homelander.

You began singing Happy Birthday- loudly, completely drowning everyone’s confusion and whatever Maddie was nagging the young supe about- and everyone was super quick to join. And you had the pleasure to see John’s face go from a slight frown to a bright expression- as everyone sang for him- claps and even stomps to go with it. 

But… there was something off in his smile as he started recognizing the faces around him. You saw his eyes go through every person in the room with a strange restraint- like he was holding back something. Then- they fell on you, and they stayed there, somehow, it seemed that it made that off feeling fade off. You clapped and sang more excitedly.

“Happy birthday, dear… John-Homelan-Johnny !”, everyone laughed, as nobody quite knew how to address him, “Happy birthday to you!” 

You saw him laugh- eyes looking around in surprise at the decorations. Everything was red, white and blue- with lots of golden details, that had been your touch. They were the expensive kind, but anyone could tell they weren’t set by professionals. You thought it added a homey touch that he’d enjoy- and he did, as he quite didn’t know what to do with himself, with his hands, as everyone clapped and whistled for him. 

“Oh-!”, he finally said, “Thank you- thank you, guys!”, he was trying to play it cool, calming them awkwardly. 

After that, the short event officially started. The attendees started mingling amongst each other, coming up in groups at times to talk to John, who seemed more interested on whatever was going on on the food table. You had caught him eyeing it from time to time whenever he was left alone for a second or two, as if he was deciding whether he could have a treat or not .

Meanwhile, you were busy guarding Maddie’s gift- which was secretly the only reason you were here at all. Not by your own volition, of course- you’d obviously come to John’s party if it was up to you. But… somehow, you felt that without your aunt’s express invitation it would have created problems for you. Sometimes it felt like Maddie got insanely possessive of the kid- as if anyone could come and snatch him away from under her management and steal her progress doing that. You didn’t quite know- all you really knew is that whenever you made a small observation, offered a small detail you’d noticed about him, she responded incredibly bad.

It wasn’t too bad, though. At least you were saving yourself from awkward conversations with strangers- plus, sometimes John caught your eyes and smiled at you. He had even tried to make his way to you a couple times, always interrupted by a new group of people who called for his attention.

He looked good in his new suit, you had to admit. A far cry from the leotardish one-piece he had before- that only worked to accentuate his still teensy physique, still too skinny and lanky for what he was supposed to be Edgar’s final vision of him- this new suit was magnificent. It looked like it was a two piece, for once- which he was probably thankful for- held by a strong golden (gold?) belt, and a high collar, covering just enough of his neck to draw attention to the slight v line it formed. He had some padding, she knew that- but it was just enough, not to transform his actual size, but to accentuate it. He looked more mature, more secure in his skin, and it showed - even if just a little bit.

Either way, you could hear her gift getting more and more agitated by the minute- so it was a relief when you heard her voice loud, commanding everyone’s attention.

“Let’s open your gifts, John.” Maddie said, coming up from behind and slapping a hand on his shoulder, making him jump a little. 

The party moved to the gifts table, where a small pile laid. You dutifully took the box you’d been guarding on the corner of the room and started walking it by it with a bit of difficulty, mostly because it kept moving all over the surface- but also because it was making your nose itch.

By the time you had gotten there, John had already started opening some of his gifts. Someone got him an insanely expensive wine you knew he wasn’t even going to try, and someone else a piece of pottery. It was hard to make someone like him a gift- what could you even get someone who could have anything? Not that John ever asked for anything, though. But he could- and everyone was aware of that. Vought made sure they were.

As soon as Maddie saw you with the box, she took it from your hands and walked up to him- and the second he turned to it, his face illuminated. 

“A dog?!”, he took it from her almost immediately, sitting on the floor with it on his lap- hands fighting to open the wrapping as soon as he was settled. 

“Oh John!”, Maddie scoffed, annoyed, “You spoiled it for everyone else!”

He didn’t seem to hear her though- entranced on the unwrapping, and you couldn’t help to hold your hands together on your chest, excited with anticipation. You were sure he was going to love it.

And as soon as the little guy jumped from inside the box- you know he did.

“Oh, lord!”, he exclaimed, as the small dog started barking and twisting in his grasp- as excited to see him as he was, its tiny tail wagging so hard it was moving its entire little body with it. “Oh, my god!”

The dog, a small Jack Russel with a big, brown spot over one of his eyes, barked excitedly, and you were sure you could see John’s eyes shining with tears, sat on the floor while everyone else aww’d at them. You could tell that- for once- he had forgotten about the people around him, as he let the puppy jump on his legs, on his chest, licking his face, sat back on his hands, as if he was stopping himself from squeezing the little thing. He was happy, so happy , and the dog was too.

“I can’t believe it!”, he gasped, again, as he finally decided he needed to pet it, getting rid of the thick gloves that his new suit had, grabbing it with both hands. The puppy barked at him, tongue out, and a laugh escaped from his mouth. “You’re the cutest thing I’ve seen in my life !”

The puppy wriggled its way out of his grasp, and jumped at his face again, licking him- and everyone aww’d once again and clapped. You finally unglued your eyes from the adorable scene to your aunt- and she looked incredibly pleased with herself. You would be too, this was probably the first time you’ve seen him actively elated.

Suddenly, she was startled by something- and you saw her hand going to her blazer’s pocket, picking her cellphone in a second. As she walked away with it, you took a step closer to him- and he turned to you.

“Did you know about this!?”, he asked, incredulous, fighting against the dog’s excited licks, “I can’t believe it!”

You couldn’t help the smile on your lips as you saw him. “Obviously. I went to pick him with her!” you crossed your arms over your chest- still remembering the horrors of the testing lab you’d gone get the poor dog from. It had been a month ago, and the dog had stayed with Maddie until now, “He was not the youngest puppy in the uh- adoption center but…”

“Shush, he’s perfect.”, he interrupted you, holding it to his chest, and turning to you, “What’s his name?”

“I’m not sure actually-”, you turned towards where your aunt had left- and you saw her smiling into the phone, a small skip on her step- and you knew that body language. She was sucking up to someone on the other end of the line. “We could ask Maddie if she named him when she comes back.”

But as you said that, Maddie actually came back- almost running in the short steps her heels allowed.

“Let's get this over with”, she whispered to you, as she walked by you taking over the center of the small round that Had formed around him, “Hey, everyone! Let's cut the cake!”

Everyone agreed happily- but you frowned, running to follow her as she went to the food table, already starting to make space for it. You knew that this was supposed to come at the end of the party, but not even half an hour had gone by yet- what was she doing?

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw John's eyes shoot from you to her to Edgar, as he as well tried to figure out what was going on.

“Maddie-”

“Seems like his birthday interview got delayed a couple hours”, she whispered to you excitedly, almost like a secret, “Guess who'll get to make up for his fatal mistake of not seeing Mrs. Pataki and her friends!”

A sense of disgust immediately took over your stomach, as you realized why she was so happy. She was making John spend time with those women after all- she was going to get him to butter them up for Vought On his own fucking birthday. 

“Go help with the cake.”

You felt sick.

Behind you, you heard John approach and Madelyn’s arm immediately shoot to get a hold of his forearm and guide him to the center of the table, the dog still in his arms.

Suddenly, a lot of things started happening simultaneously. Edgar was on the scene now, - a cameraman that you’d seen wandering about the event next to him - finally caring about this party at all, as he seemed to be giving him directions about how to encapsulate the happy event. 

Maddie, on the other hand, stood next to Homelander- whose eyes seemed far, as he heard whatever she was telling him, his lips pressing in some sort of emotion you didn’t have time to figure out, eyes looking far away from the scene unfolding. You got closer, as you started fixing the cake decorations, and got to hear some of it.

“And you'll show off your fucking new suit and tell her ‘ You like it, Margie?’ like she's the woman of your dreams, okay? She needs to go home and tell Pataki that Vought's doing great things while she considers divorcing his ass. You need to make up for the time you made her lose, John.” she was instructing right next to his ear, and he seemed more out of it by the second, “You'll be so fucking sorry to her she won't doubt for a second that you made a honest mistake with your schedule.” 

People started gathering as well- their loud chatter surrounding them like a massive beehive, buzzing so close to the table it was even starting to make you dizzy and desperate, as you fought to make one of the star decorations stay up. One of the scientists came up to you with a lighter, offering to turn the single candle on and you nodded, mindlessly as your focus kept shifting to him, and the way his gaze dissociated more and more- and you were actually worried now. You’d never seen him like this, not this badly. 

“Homelander!”, Edgar called, his serious nasal voice adding a new layer to the buzz, just like the scientist's lighter he couldn't get lit on. “Move one step to the left and turn a little, the lighting's bad there!”

“Seriously - apologize like a fucking dog, you hear?”

“Fuck”, you cursed under your breath- snatching the lighter yourself and trying- getting to turn on.

The camera started snapping- and it added another layer. A group laughed loudly in the background. Edgar kept giving needless instruction. The dog started wriggling, running out of his grasp. Madelyn kept barking into his ear.

“You'll lick her feet- and…”

And you could almost hear it before it happened. 

“Madelyn, I fucking GET it !”

The loud high sound- the sound his lasers made.

The crowd gasped, shocked- but more importantly, the dog started fucking screaming in pain.

“Oh- no!”

Someone screamed- and all hell broke loose. John ran from the table to the side- where his laser had left a dark, charred line that ended with… with the poor puppy laying on the floor, bleeding and crying. You ran after him.

“Oh no- no, no, no, no…”, he was on his knees, and you fell next to him as he whispered the words to himself, holding the poor thing as it wriggled, its loud shrieks vibrating in your ears. His hands were starting to get covered in blood, and its fur was so bloody- flesh so mangled you couldn't make sense of any of it. “No- please !”

You were speechless, shocked, and the blood was draining from your face by the second. “It was an accident!”, you were immediate to comfort him, but his eyes were glued to the animal- unable to think, to do anything, “It was an accident, John, and-and…”

You looked around- but nobody thought like you- nobody else was stepping up to comfort him. Instead, everyone stared in… fright , taking fearful steps away from the scene like he was a monster- and that made you so insanely mad.

“I-I killed him!”, he exclaimed in horror. “Oh, God, I fucking killed him!”

“ No, you didn't! ”, your hands went to his shoulders, shaking him a little as his eyes filled up with tears- and your heart was going a mile a minute, “He's crying ! He's still alive!”

“N-no, no, I-”

“John!”, Maddie’s voice shouted- and you looked up to see her walking to you, angry, as she got out of her shock, “What the hell was that?! Are you insane?! Are you retarded ?!”

He turned slightly to her, eyes full of tears and remorse and pain- and you couldn't take it anymore.

You stood up like a spring and took a step between them.

“Madelyn!”, you looked at her in the eyes, heart still drumming, “ Are you fucking serious?!”

You saw her eyes widen and her mouth fall open.

She started sputtering your name, visibly shaken. You'd never ever had spoken like this to her. She was always the one that was right, the one whose decisions just weren't questioned.

“Y-you stay out of this!”, she finally managed, and tried to push you to the side- but you slapped her hand away.

“No, I won't! Not this fucking time, Aunt Maddie.” you stood your ground, stomping a foot.

There was a rage in you burning- and you instantly realized this wasn't just about this, right now. This was a rage that had been slowly burning- building up these last six months as you'd witnessed how they treated this kid, how they exploited every single second of his time. How tight his leash was. How simply sad and alone he looked all the time.

It had been burning since your mother had been diagnosed with that heart condition- and how ironically heartless her sister had been to her. How she'd offered you the job the same way someone offers leftovers to a starving stray dog, and how you had to swallow your dignity and take them.

It had been burning, you'd even say, after the first day Maddie had started this fucking job, and how she blew you off when you went to her apartment with a cake you'd made her to celebrate it- saying she had coworkers over and she couldn't deal with a child like you here, too, as if they were too important for you to even see them.

She growled your name one last time, “You're about to lose your job.”

“Then fucking do it, Maddie.”, you hissed back, feeling venom in your voice, “Fire me. Fire me! Who wants to work in a company that depends on how much they can exploit some twenty-year-old, anyway? Oh, but the second he makes one mistake you all look at him like he's a monster, right?!”

You couldn't help to turn around, including everyone in your rant now- every single person that was important in John’s life, who was looking at him like he was going to laser them next. Him, who was still holding onto the crying puppy, hands drenched in his blood.

“Don't look at him like that! God- look at him ! He didn't do it on purpose! You all pushed him to do it!”

You felt frustration building in you- as your eyes started to burn as well, angry. No, you couldn't let yourself cry, you needed to speak up!

You saw Maddie about to say something else when someone took a step forward- Mr. Edgar.

“Okay, okay everyone…” he had his hands raised up, voice infuriatingly calming and imposing. “Let’s calm down. You-”, he pointed at a random woman, who jumped at his calling, “Take the dog to the fifteenth, there must be a vet somewhere there.”

The woman quickly stepped forward- a middle aged with a messy bun hanging off of her head- arms in front of her, ready to take the still wailing dog from John while putting the most distance from him she could. Your eyes followed the movement as he extended the creature to her- his hands still shaking. For some reason, as this happened, you felt absolutely insane- like you were some schizoid character In a movie, and everyone else was just watching your crazy rants unfold. 

“And you- miss… Stilwell?”, he continued, turning to you- and as you shook your head (you didn't share your aunt’s last name, thank you ), he held a hand up, like he didn't actually care about that, “Why don't you take Homelander here home? He's still a bit shaken.”

And you're the only one here not afraid of his lasers, seemed to be the tacit rest of his request. 

At that, you stood straighter, facing him as a bitter bile pooled in your throat - desperate to keep jawing off about all you've been keeping, seeing these last months, about every single thing that they'd knowingly been doing to him- but you held back for him. Edgar was right, he needed to get away from this,  he needed some peace- and perhaps not to have to spend his birthday with some old lady who would be pawing at him all night. 

You swallowed it and nodded at him, chest still out and shoulders squared, like you were a shield and shot one last look at Maddie.

She was boring holes into you- mouth in a thin line, dark blue eyes unblinking in anger, hands fisted to her sides. You knew that look, your mother had been the end of it one too many times. But unlike her, you did not relent- and Maddie should better get used to it.

Then, you simply turned, falling to a kneel once again, as you grabbed his shoulder. His eyes were on you as well, those clear blue eyes, still watery, still shaking. His hands were drenched in blood, as was the rest of his new suit- he looked so small in that moment, so scared.

“John?”, you let your voice fall into a soft tone. At your call, his eyes tuned into an emotion you couldn't quite decipher- aside from intense gratefulness, “Let’s go home.”

[mystra-midnight]

Dirty Little Secret

summary: he swore that when you bent over to scoop the car keys from the coffee table, he'd been able to see up your skirt and straight to your damn cervix.

warnings: 18+ only. thigh riding. age gap; (reader is in their 20's, john's in his 40's) pet names; (sweetheart, pretty girl). public setting. john's a bit pervy here.

words: 985.

notes: was fishing for ideas with a friend on mine on snapchat and this came about. john winchester + age gap + thigh riding in the impala = a damn good time.

“We could get arrested.”

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

Your skin tasted like sweat as he ran his tongue up the side of your neck, leaving a fat, wet stripe behind. His hands grabbed your hips frantically while you crawled into his lap, your legs falling into position around his thigh while the steering wheel nudged roughly at the small of your back. Under time constraints, he was in a hurry, bunching your skirt around your waist so that he could pull your thong to the side and push his thigh firmly against your mound.

Beer—that had been his excuse to be alone with you. He'd tagged along to make sure you got the good kind and not the cheap shit you usually bought. It was a lie—a bold-faced, fucking lie. He had to get away from the boys and get you alone because you were wearing the smallest, tightest skirt he'd ever fucking seen. He swore that when you bent over to scoop the car keys from the coffee table, he'd been able to see up your skirt and straight to your damn cervix.

You mewled into his mouth when your lips crashed with a myriad of licks and bites. It was dirty. God, it was so dirty but so fucking hot. This was John—fucking—Winchester, the father of your two best friends. It was their father you were dry-humping in the parking lot of a grocery store. Anyone could notice the foggy windows. Anyone could peer inside. Anyone could get a glimpse of your bare backside, the slick dripping down the inside of your thighs, and the wet patch on his jeans.

You couldn't find it in yourself to care when he pushed his hands up your shirt and yanked down the cups of your bra, freeing your tits into his awaiting palms. He rolled his fingers over your nipples, chuckling faintly against your mouth when they pebbled into hardened peaks.

"Like me touching you like this, baby? I know you do, can feel how wet that pretty pussy is."

Your answering whine was enough to encourage him to touch you more, not that he needed the encouragement. Angling his hips to meet yours, John's thigh rubbed against your bare cunt as his erection pressed against yours. If given half a chance, he'd be fucking you right now—his dirty girl, old enough to be his daughter. He'd wanted you the moment Sam bought you home from college—not a lover but a very good friend—someone he trusted implicitly, someone who he loved and cared for and promised to never hurt—a sentiment you shared.

And yet here you were with his father in the front seat of a car that was parked in the grocery store parking lot of some backwater town, panting against his lips, licking all around his mouth, and grinding against his thigh like a desperate whore. There had been no preamble, no coquettish stares, and no hesitations. John had been staring at your thighs and how high the skirt rode, and you'd crawled into his lap. It was filthy how quickly you got turned on, and worse still, how quickly the knot of pleasure started to twist through your organs.

"John," you breathed his name in a sigh, your eyes closed and your breath heavy. "John, you're gonna make me cum if we don't stop." The thought of peeling yourself away from him was painful, leaving your heart thumping against your breastbone so hard you'd swear you heard it start to crack. You didn't want to stop, but you couldn't very well go back to the hotel looking like a cum-drunk whore. Dean would definitely notice, and he wasn't good at keeping secrets.

Pre-emptively, John grabbed your hips and pulled you roughly against him, smearing your slick along his dark denim until they were stained a darker shade. "That's the fucking point," he growled against your neck, right where he'd sucked a pink-purple bruise below your ear. You'd worry about it later, when his hand wasn't snaking between your bodies to find your throbbing clit.

The rough drag of his calloused fingers against your nub made you gasp. Your hands flew to his head, fingers burrowing deep in his salt and pepper hair, holding his mouth to yours as you whined low and long, the sound ripping up your spine, the back of your throat, and right out of your parted lips. You were already soaked, something that amused him.

"I gotta get you ready for tonight, pretty girl."

"T-tonight?"

It was hard to maintain a conversation with how he was touching you, playing you like a damn violin. You were putty in his hands, so fucking young, pretty, and eager to cum. John doubted you were thinking about anything else except for the fire that had settled in your veins—the way it made you moan too loudly, the way it made you move faster and faster, until the car was rocking on its wheels.

The steering wheel nudged your back again and again, leaving a perfect imprint bruised into your lower back, but you didn't care. John knew when you were getting close. Your thighs trembled, the grind of your hips faltering as the sharp zing of pleasure shot through you each time your lips caught on the rips in his jeans, each time he circled your clit only to change directions and go back without warning.

"That's right, sweetheart, tonight, when you sneak out of your room and into mine so I can fill that pretty pussy with my cum."

Those were the words that did you in. "m'comingmc'comingm'coming." You came with a muffled cry, words trailing together until neither of you could tell where one ended and the next began. His fingers never ceased their movements, helping you reach your peak and come tumbling down to earth like a freight train. "Oh, god."

"No, sweetheart. S’just John."

[juniperskye]

Until I Found You

***Potential spoilers of The Rookie***

Pairing: John Nolan x Fem Reader

Sneak Peek: After his breakup with Bailey, John is convinced he will never fall in love again…that is until he found you. (This is taking place pre TO Nolan) Reader owns a Café (food truck).

Fluff/Angst

Word count: 2851

Warnings: Reader has kind of spooky vibes, no use of y/n, Implied age gap, mention of food and eating (no explicit details), brief mention of crime (no explicit details), mention of past relationships, mention of unhealthy relationships, mention of getting ready for a date (details are feminine leaning – shaving, makeup, nails, hairstyling), developing strong feelings quickly, one teeny tiny kiss.

Not edited - please be kind.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

After his breakup with Bailey, John was convinced he wouldn’t find love again. How would it be fair for him to have had love with Sarah, Lucy, Jessica, Grace, Bailey and for him to expect it again. His love with each of those women differed from one another, but they all had played a very important role in his life. For the last few months John had really just been going through the motions; sleep, work, eat, repeat.

Today had been a particularly slow day on the job for John, very unusual for the LAPD. He had been riding alone today which was honestly making the day drag on even more so. He was counting down the minutes until lunch – at least then he would get to socialize with his fellow officers.

Two speeding tickets, one robbery and a stolen car later, it was finally time for lunch. Heading to their usual spot, John notices that there is a new food truck parked, black with orange script on the side spelling out “Hallowed Grounds” alongside little white painted bats. John’s eyes were drawn to this truck not because it is new, or that the line was at least fifteen people long, but because of the beautiful person running the window.

It was Lucy who had ultimately broken John out of the trance he was in.

“Hey, you okay? You were spaced out there for a second.” Lucy questioned.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay. What’s with the new truck?” John wanted to see how much Lucy knew without giving away the attraction he was feeling towards this stranger.

“Oh! It is all over social media, Hallowed Grounds, it is mostly coffee, but the pastries are to die for! I mean literally that is their slogan!” Lucy laughed.

“The line is pretty long, so it must be good. Should we check it out?”

“Sounds good to me!”

With that, John and Lucy made their way to the line. Lucy was talking John’s ear off about some new social media drama, but honestly John wasn’t listening, he was far too distracted by your beauty and the honey sweet tone of your voice. You had this way about you that was breathtaking, moving with grace and just so patient and kind to all the patrons who had been waiting in line. They were finally nearing the front of the line, and John had realized he hadn’t even looked at the menu.

“Hi there! What can I get for you?” You smiled at him.

“Hi, can I get a medium caramel latte and a lemon blueberry scone?” Lucy ordered with no hesitation.

“Of course! And for you?” You looked expectantly at John.

“I um, can I just get a black coffee and, no that’s all.” John stuttered.

Lucy looked over at him confused as she paid, and they walked over to stand near the pickup window. John took note of you disappearing from the window and a young man taking your place.

“Okay, I know that we did not just stand in that long line just for you to order a black coffee. What is up with you?” Lucy questioned John. “OH MY GOD! You think she’s cute, don’t you?”

“Okay, hush! I’d rather not scare the girl off before I even get a chance to talk to her.”

“Okay sorry! I’m just happy for you. You’ve been sulking ever since you and Bailey broke things off.”

“I have not been sulking…okay maybe I have. But I really thought she was it for me.”

“John and Lucy?” You called.

They made their way up to the window to pick up their orders.

“Alright Lucy, a caramel latte and a lemon blueberry scone, and for John a black coffee and a chocolate croissant.” I hope you guys have a wonderful day and stay safe!”

“Oh, I didn’t…” John started.

“Thank you so much, you have a wonderful day too!” Lucy cut John off and began to drag him away from the truck.

The two of them went to sit at a table with Tim, Aaron and Nyla for the rest of their lunch. They were all hoping it wouldn’t be cut short by a call coming in.

“Alright Nolan!” Aaron exclaimed as John sat down.

“What? What did I do?”

“The bag. The barista gave you her number!”

John turned the bag around and sure enough your name and phone number had been neatly printed along with a little heart. John looked at Tim, then Nyla and finally to Lucy. He hadn’t been expecting you to give him your number, especially not after he had made a complete fool of himself in front of you just moments before.

Just as Lucy was about to encourage him to text you, a call came ringing in over the radios. Everyone was quick to get up and head to their respective shops. John heard Tim and Lucy radio that they were responding, and that Nyla and Aaron were acting as backup. He figured they had it covered, and he would continue to patrol, but not before adding you into his contacts.

Three days.

It was three days before John had gathered the courage to text you. He hadn’t seen you either, since he’d worked through lunch one of the days, had a pretty big drug bust on the second day, and was assigned to the front desk on the third day. Today though, he had the day off and now was his time to text you and see if you would want to go on a date with him.

John: Hey, this is John. From the other day.

You: Hi! I was beginning to think that maybe I was too forward.

John: Oh, no, not at all! I’m sorry, things have just been really busy with work. I finally have a day off.

You: Okay, good! I’m sorry work has been keeping you busy. Hopefully you’ve been able to stay safe.

John: I have. Nothing too out of the ordinary this week. How have you been?

You: I’ve been good! I have been testing some new recipes and trying to figure out what to swap in for the fall season.

You: Speaking of which…would you like to be a taste tester for me? I could really use a customer’s perspective!

John: I would love to! By the way, that croissant was incredible. I was actually texting you to ask you to dinner.

You: Yeah, dinner and then we can go back to mine to try these desserts?

You: Wow that was also very forward…I’m not usually like this by the way!

John: No worries. I won’t read into it I promise. So tonight, can I pick you up at 7?

You: 7 is perfect, see you then John!

After confirming your plans with John, you kicked it into high gear. It was 10:07 a.m. and you had a lot to do before you’d be ready to go. You really needed to get your nails done, you needed to finish the 6 different pastries you’d been working on, and you’d really need to shower before you could get ready.

After doing some quick math in your head, you figured that you would have just enough time to get everything done provided you shower while some things were baking in the oven. With that, you place the pre-cut cookie dough into the freezer (these would be easy enough to pull out and bake later when you and John go back), you placed the muffins and two different loaves of bread in the oven. That just left the cake that you were actively frosting and the pie that was cooling. Once the cake was thoroughly iced, you threw the dishes in the dishwasher and headed towards the shower, not without checking your timer to make sure you’d have ample time.

You were sure to go through all the steps of what you’d consider a full shower, washing and conditioning your hair, washing your body with your best smelling body wash, and shaving essentially every inch of your body. You weren’t anticipating that anything would happen tonight, but you wanted to be prepared nonetheless and you’d make sure at the very least that you smelled good.

After drying off and throwing on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, you made way for the kitchen just in time to pull out the muffins and the bread. You set them out on the cooling rack, turned the oven off and then you headed to your favorite nail salon. They were able to get you in right away seeing as it was 12:00 p.m. on a Thursday.

Your nail appointment ended at about 1:30 p.m., which gave you enough time to head over and check on your staff and the truck. Upon arrival you noticed there were a few police cruisers parked along the curb. You knew John was off today, but you still found yourself scanning the crowd for him.  

“He’s not here.” Your staff, Ezra, had called over to you.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You tried to hide your blush, embarrassed about getting caught looking for John. Ezra was the one who had encouraged you to give him your number in the first place, having seen how smitten you were with John when you’d met him the other day. Ezra and you had been friends for years, he could read you better than anyone.

“Mmhmm, sure thing. It was a different group this time around. What are you up to? Aren’t you supposed to be off testing new pastries?” Ezra questioned you.

“I was doing exactly that when John texted me and asked me out! I went and got my nails done and figured I would stop by and see how things were going before I went back home and got ready for my date.”

“OH MY GOD! See I told you that if you gave him your number, he’d ask you out. There were definite vibes the other day, he was so enamored by you that he forgot to look at the menu!” Ezra gushed.

“Okay, fine. You were right. I’m kind of nervous, he’s taking me to dinner, then we’re going back to my place so he can taste the new desserts and give me his opinions on them.”

“Girl, you are going to be fine! He seems nice and you are an amazing person, no reason to be nervous. Plus, what have you got to lose?” Ezra had always been your voice of reason in times of need.

“Okay, yeah. I should probably get going then so I can get ready.”

“Okay babe, have a great night! OH and you should wear the outfit you wore to our opening party, it screams you and its hot!”

“Oh, that was a good outfit, I don’t know where he’s taking me yet, but it should be dressy enough.”

You said your goodbyes to Ezra and made your way back home. It was nearing 3:30 p.m. and you knew you should probably start getting ready. You grabbed a glass of water and then got to styling your hair. You curled your hair and applied some natural looking makeup and went to get dressed. To pair with the faux leather skirt and starry mesh top, you slid on some black tights, comfy socks and your Doc Martens. Looking over at your alarm clock you see 6:45p.m. glowing red and you decide to switch to a smaller purse in the time you have left before your date…your usual everyday tote bag not exactly matching this outfit choice. You’d opted for a small leather handbag, with gold accents, it matched your outfit perfectly and was better suited for the occasion. As soon as you organized everything into the purse a knock sounded at the door. You took a deep breath then walked to answer it.

“Hi!” You greeted John as you opened the door.

“Wow, you look incredible.” John was awestruck, you had such a different style than the women he had previously dated, but he was really loving it. You were so confident in your own skin, and you just had this glow about you.

“Thank you, you look very handsome.”

“Shall we?” John gestured to his truck.

You nodded and the two of you walked around to the passenger side. John opened the door for you then offered his hand to assist you into the truck.

“Such a gentleman.”

John blushed at the compliment, he tried to shake it off as he started the truck and pulled out of your driveway. You made small talk on your way to the restaurant, which ended up being a very nice steakhouse.

John parked and looked over to you, he made note of the way you were inspecting the sign, and immediately panicked.

“I probably should have asked and made sure you weren’t a vegetarian!”

“I’m not! I love a good steak; my dad is a self-proclaimed grill master!” You laughed.

John laughed with you and let out a sigh of relief. He once again opened your door for you and reached to help you out of the truck. He was so different form the men you had dated before, so polite and caring. He listened to what you had to say and even asked you questions to learn more about you. It was so refreshing to be around someone like him. Truth is, you had dated some pretty terrible people in the past and that was the main reason you were single now. You’d decided to take a break from dating and focus on yourself and your career, which is how you’d gotten to the point of owning a very successful food truck. You had explained to John that your end goal is to have a brick-and-mortar location of Hallowed Grounds that was a café/bookstore. You wanted to create a cozy space for people to hangout while they enjoyed good food.

John just sat and smiled, he loved how you lit up when you spoke about it. Seeing you so passionate about something was honestly inspiring. He hadn’t expected the feelings for you to be so immediate, so strong, just crashing to the surface as the night went on. John could feel himself growing concerned about whether or not you were feeling as strongly for him as he was for you. The two of you had just clicked and it was so effortless.

What John didn’t know is you were currently battling the same demons. Was it really possible to be this comfortable with someone after such a short time?

Dinner had passed far too quickly for either of your likings, you were honestly just glad that you had already planned to continue this evening. You weren’t ready to say goodnight to John just yet. As John drove you back to your place, he took a risk by reaching for your hand to hold, you were quick to slide your hand into his and you couldn’t help but blush. John couldn’t believe how soft your hand was and it made him think about how rough his must be from his years as a contractor, he shook the thought away as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

You made it back to your place relatively quickly and John once again made sure to assist you on the passenger side, only this time instead of offering you his hand, he was a little bolder. He’d placed his hands on your waist and slowly helped you out of the truck. You stood there, chest to chest, your breath hitching from the proximity. Your gazes danced over one another’s face, shifting from eyes to lips back to eyes, silently asking for permission. When you slightly tilted your head, John understood and reached his right hand up to cup your jaw as he brought you in for a kiss. The kiss lasted for what felt like forever but ended far too soon. You wanted to exist in this moment infinitely.

You and John held hands once again as you staggered to the door. You made quick work of the lock and invited him in, guiding him to the kitchen.

“You ready to try some desserts?” You asked.

“Absolutely!” John replied.

You blushed, realizing the double entendre and moved to get all the desserts plated up. You explained to John that you’d need to throw the cookies in the oven, but they only took about 10 minutes to cook. He nodded and asked if you needed any help with anything, which you declined and encouraged him to relax.

John watched as you worked in the kitchen, this had been your element and it was like a well-choreographed dance, the way you moved. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, picturing the two of you like this, years down the road. He knew that you had only just met, but after tonight he couldn’t deny the connection. He realized he had been wrong when he said he would never fall in love again. That was true, until he met you.

[starandcloud]

Sleep

It had been week since you properly slept last, reoccurring nightmares kept you awake and tormented from actually sleeping. Tonight was another one of those nights, your Fiancé was sleeping in your shared bed as you sat at the kitchen table in the dark; clutching a hot mug of tea in your hands. You started into the cup, gently swirling the liquid every now and then to mix the tea back into the water. You weren't sure how long you sat there, and in reality you didn't really care either.

'The sleeping medicine should kick in soon..'

You hoped. You hadn't heard John fumble out of the bedroom, nor did you realize he was in the kitchen until he flicked on the light above the stove.

"Love..? What're you doing up..?"

He asked, rubbing his eyes as he sat across from you. The scratching of the chair against the floor made you wince slightly before looking at John. His sleepy eyes watched you carefully, observing how tired your eyes were and how exhausted you looked. His hand gently reached out and took one of yours in his, gently squeezing and rubbing the back of your hand as he yawned.

"Talk to me Darling, I can't help you if I don't know what's buggin' you"

He said, his yawn stretching his words before his sleepy gaze fell onto you. Your tired smile making his heart flutter as he looked at you.

"Just... Nightmares..."

You muttered out and looked down, your gaze falling back onto your cup; which was almost empty at this point. John's eyes softened as he frowned and he stood up, his hand briefly leaving yours before he took the cup from you. His hands went under your armpits as he picked you up, one arm quickly tucked under your bottom before he flicked the light off. His footsteps were soft as he walked towards the bedroom again.

"Why didn't you tell me Lovely? I would've held you through them..."

John's voice was soft as he laid you down on the sheets before laying down next to you. He flopped the covers over you before his arms held you tight to his chest, your heartbeat slowing as he did. A yawn was pulled from your lips as he pressed gentle kisses against your neck, his mustache and beard tickling the skin, making your brain go fuzzy. His arms held you securely as you started to drift off, not an anxious bone in your body as you finally relaxed. Your body coming down from fight or flight, you yawned again as your eyes fluttered shut. Your body felt like air as you heard his muffled voice.

"Sleep well My Dear"

You sleepily lifted your head a bit and hummed in confusion.

"Nothing baby, go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up..."

His voice, soft and loving, was what lulled you to sleep. Your first peaceful sleep in weeks, you were buried in your fiancé's arms. Where you should, and will, always be.

[short-honey-badger]

Shore Leave 5

Holy moly, did this one get away from me. Lotta stuff happens in this one, and we are introduced to the "antagonist." I guess you could call him.

Anyway! I hope you enjoy!

Shore Leave Masterlist

You wake with a soft groan, blinking your eyes open as you shift in your bed. You snuggle into your pillow and frown when the clothes you wear tug uncomfortably against the blankets. You never wear this many clothes to bed, so why are you now? Mortification burns through you when the memories of last night fly through your mind, and you scramble out of your bed, embarrassed beyond belief. How could you have fallen asleep so quickly last night? You were no stranger to late nights, and had thought you'd have the willpower to stay up.

You cringe to yourself. John must feel so awkward.

You slip from the bed and quickly change clothes, leggings, and a loose blouse with your cow print house shoes. You wash your face and brush your teeth and then bend to fish out a new toothbrush for John to use if he wanted to. Now that you feel refreshed, you slipped out of your bedroom and into the living room where you were greeted with the adorable sight of your new friend curled up on the couch.

The large man had to curl up a bit to comfortably fit, but he looked so at peace that you didn't have the heart to disturb him. Instead, you quietly bypassed John and mosied into the kitchen to start on a hearty breakfast. Your fridge needed to be cleared out anyway.

The Master Chief woke to the smell of sizzling bacon and eggs. His blue eyes sprang open, and he bolted up, heart racing as he took in the unfamiliar environment. He relaxes when he recognizes your living room and slumps even further into the cushions when his sensitive ears pick up the sound of you singing. A tiny smile lingers on his lips, and John is tempted to fall back to sleep now that he knows that everything is fine.

A big fluffy orange tail gets his attention, and John leans down to pet Nami, who purrs thunderously at the attention. He scratches her for a while before he eases up from the couch and lopes to the bar that separates the kitchen and living room. John watches you cook, your shoulders drooped and relaxed as you sing a slow song under your breath and flip the Japanese style omelet gently back and forth in the pan. Beside you, there are two plates with seasoned, white rice and thick cuts of bacon and two glasses full of pulpy orange juice.

“Play the guitar, play it again, my Johnny

Maybe you're cold, but you're so warm inside.”

You sway gently to the beat only you can hear, humming the next part of the song as you finish up rolling the omelet. You pick up the pan from the stove eye and scoot to the plates where you lay the fluffy eggs across the mountain of rice.

“But if you're cruel, you can be kind, I know

There was never a man like my Johnny.”

You place the pan back on the stove, turning down the heat, and then grab the heavy plate, turning to go set the food on the bar and then go wake John for breakfast. Only to have the man in question staring at you from where he is already seated at the bar. You jump at the sight, and only the hard grip you have on the plate saves the ceramic dishware from the floor. You clutch your chest with your other hand and glare at John.

“You scared the shit out of me.” You grumble at him and set breakfast in front of the big man.

The grin that John wears is all worth the little jump scare when you catch sight of it. It looks more free than the tiny smiles and smirks that he'd given you last night. You wouldn't mind seeing more of it.

“Maybe you should pay more attention,” John quips at you and takes the fork from your outstretched hand. You roll your eyes at him and smack his fork away when he goes to dig into the omelet you'd slaved over.

“Hang on. Hopefully, this works,” you murmur and then take the knife you hold and slice the fluffy eggs down the middle. John thinks that your little coo of joy is the most adorable sound when you watch the omelet split open perfectly, allowing the steaming cheesy eggs to spill out. The smile you aim at him is even better.

“Bon appetit.”

John does it with gusto, and you turn away from the ravenous eating to fix up your own plate with the leftover egg mixture. The spartan is finished by the time you are plating your breakfast, and you are much slower in how you eat, savoring each bite and drinking deeply from your cup of coffee. You tell John to help himself to whatever is left in the pot and then point out the bathroom, and make sure to mention the new toothbrush you'd set out for him.

John does as suggested, draining his cup quick as a flash and then loping to the bathroom to wash up. You finish up and then wash up the dishes before settling on the couch and picking up your data pad left on the end table. Nami joins you on the couch, curling up on the arm and looking at you with big green eyes.

“You like him, too, huh?” You ask her with a grin and scratch behind her ears, making the fluff ball purr even louder.

You flip through a couple of articles and stop when your eyes catch sight of one of them highlighting a new exhibit at the local zoo. You grin as an idea comes to mind and set the tablet aside when John comes out of your bedroom.

“I've got an idea for a trip if you're up for it?” You ask him when he sits beside you on the couch. You grunt in surprise when the Chief suddenly grabs you around the waist and tugs you close, pressing you to his side before he dips and claims your lips in a kiss as sweet as pie.

John has been wanting to kiss you all morning. He is pretty sure he'd dreamed of you last night, the delicate press of your lips along his scarred skin. The curtain of your hair shields the two of you away from the outside world as you sat atop him.

His cheeks heat up at the reminder, and his hand finds the curve of your waist, squeezing gently before he pulls away, resting his brow along your own. John opens his eyes and meets your own, his lips curled in a smug smirk that makes you roll your eyes when you spot it.

“What kind of trip?” He asks you and boldly shifts again, lifting you as though you weigh nothing and sits you fully in his lap. His thumb swipes back and forth on the bit of exposed skin from where your shirt has risen up, and he leans back to rest against the cushions.

Your cheeks blaze at being moved as if you were nothing but a doll, and your thighs tingle from where they are pressed on either side of John's long legs. You lick your lips and force your mind to get back on track and not think of just how big the Master Chief is.

“W-well, there is a new exhibit opening at the zoo. I thought it would be fun for us to go.”

The Chief stalls in his tracks. The zoo? He's never had the chance to go to one before. He is silent as he recalls the last time he'd been even close to one and frowns when his memory provides him with images of destroyed animal enclosures, glassed over by the covenant. He comes back to himself when you wrap your hand around his free wrist and squeeze softly.

“I would like that,” He assures you and smooths his hand down so that he can tangle his fingers with your own. He raises his hand and presses his lips to the back of your knuckles, watching your eyes go half lidded in pleasure and wonders if you would look how you did in his dream. If only he had the nerve to touch you so confidently.

“Though I would like to stop by base to change, if you are okay with waiting for me?”

You nod easily, “Of course I'm fine with waiting.”

You wish you had the courage to ask if he wanted to stay with you through his shore leave, but you'd hate to come off as clingy, so you stay silent about it, and instead try and shimmy off his lap to no avail.

“I've got to get ready, ya know.” You point out, but John only shrugs at you and untangles his hand from your own so that he can cup your jaw in his big palm. He casts his blue-eyed gaze over you, smoothing his thumb up to slide over your bottom lip.

“I know, but I'd like to try something,” he says, and you dip your head in silent permission when he meets your eyes. His thumb puts pressure down, and you allow your mouth to fall open. John leans in and kisses you, his tongue sliding past your lips to tease your own pink muscle and explore the hot cavern of your mouth. You keen into the intimate kiss, not having expected him to do such a thing, but not unhappy about it. Instead, you push forward lips wrapping around his tongue and gently sucking on the muscle, causing a deep groan to rumble out of the Master Chief.

John isn't sure how long he kisses you, but he doesn't have any intention of stopping. He wants to know what other sounds you might make for him. The spartan isn't used to letting his more carnal desires take over, but he would gladly drop all his walls if he could know what you taste like.

Your lips are red and swollen by the time you have to break the heated exchange. Your stomach is tight with arousal, and you can feel his hardening length between your legs. You want to see it, but you close your eyes and take a deep, calming breath instead. You fall forward and rest your face against his chest, and John wraps his arms around you, making you feel like the safest person in the galaxy.

“I still need to get ready,” you mumble against his chest but make no move to get up. John just tightens his grip and presses his lips to the crown of your head.

Eventually, the two of you rise, and you hop in the shower just long enough for your normal routine before drying off and dressing in a pair of worn jeans and a nice shirt. Your tennis shoes are next since so much walking is in your future, and then lastly your bag and phone. John watches you lock the door after saying goodbye to Nami and then follows you outside and to the sidewalk.

It's a good thirty minute walk to the base that he is stationed at, and you have to assure him that you don't mind the journey multiple times. He keeps a close eye out while the two of you walk, his training kicking in even when he is supposed to “forget” who he is for these next two weeks. John wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he let something happen to you.

“You can wait in the lobby,” He says when you arrive at the large, dark stone building. You nod silently and follow him through the automatic doors, feeling a bit nervous coming inside. You've never had a reason to come here before, after all.

John leaves you waiting in a chair near the entrance of the building, and you flip through your datapad as you wait. You are interrupted soon after by a harsh clearing of the throat. You look up and see a man dressed in a crisp uniform, his face clean shaven and his dark hair cut at regulation. You can spot tattoos looping through his shorn hair. He is handsome like most military men are, his green eyes dark and full of curiosity.

“Can I help you with anything ma'am?” He asks, and his tone is friendly despite the permanent scowl on his face.

“No, but thank you, Sir. I'm just waiting on a friend,” you say with a smile and expect him to leave you be, only for the marine to sit down beside you and offer his hand.

“Major Dwight Baroque. It's nice to meet you, miss..?”

You shake his hand with a strained smile and introduce yourself quietly.

“May I ask who you're waiting for?” The Major says, and you answer slowly and realize that you only know John's first name. You'd never asked for anything else, though that was kind of the goal at the moment. You wanted John to feel human for once in his life.

“Ah, well. His name is John. I didn't ask, and he didn't tell me his rank or anything,” you say, a bit embarrassed about it now that you think about it.

The soldier chuckles and sits back in the seat, “Do you mind if I wait with you? Pretty women like yourself shouldn't be left alone for too long, ya know.”

You laugh and shift awkwardly in your seat and wish that John would hurry up and get out here. While you appreciated everything that the UNSC did, that didn't mean that you wanted one of them to flirt with you so badly.

“I'm sure you've got better things to do than babysit me,” you say and look up just in time to spit John stalking toward you, a deep scowl darkening his face when he spots the Major beside you.

“Actually, John is here now.”

You don't expect the marine to look at John and his face transform into something so rage filled that it's ugly. You gulp when the Major glares at you next, but your own angered confusion raises its head at his words.

“That's John? You know he's a freak right?”

You blink at him, jerking your head back as if you'd been struck. You stand from your chair, voice furious, “Excuse me?”

Baroque scoffs loudly and stands as well. He still looks tiny compared to John when the other man gets to your side. The Chief stands just behind you and reaches out to place a big hand on your shoulder, “_, just let it go. It's not worth it.”

“What? No. I want to know why he thinks you're a freak,” you snap back, incensed at the lack of fight in John's voice. Why wasn't he defending himself?

“Didn't he tell you what he was?” Dwight continues, and his tone turns smug, as if what he would say next would change your option about your new friend.

“He's a Spartan. Everything that he is came out of a bottle. He's nothing but a science experiment.”

You feel John tense behind you, his grip on your shoulder tightening to the point of pain. You bear it with grace and glare at the smug Major.

“Well, now I know why he's so tall, at least.” You quip and reach up to curl your hand around his wrist, squeezing tightly to get the Spartans' attention. You aim a grin his way and tug his arm.

“Let's go, John. We shouldn't waste any more time.”

The Major seems flabbergasted at your lack of care over John being a spartan, but he quickly turns outraged and moves to step forward. John sees the way he goes to grab you and bodily moves you, putting himself in the way of the Major and glaring down at his superior officer.

“Have a good day, Major,” he growls and then escorts you out of the building before the other man could cause any more of a scene.

You huff and puff as soon as you are out of the building, an annoyed scowl on your face as you call the Major mean names under your breath. John watches you, and his heart lurches in his chest. You had stood up for him. You hadn't even cared that he was a spartan.

He doesn't stop himself from closing the distance and sweeping you up for a kiss, hands landing on your hips, and holding you close until he pulls away with a soft sigh.

“Thank you,” He whispers, and you shake your head with a small frown.

“You shouldn't have to thank me for showing you the same kind of kindness any human deserves. That guy was an idiot, and you should never listen to people like him. You are a hero, John.”

The Master Chief doesn't know what to say to all that, so he just kisses you again, and you can feel how relieved and happy he is knowing that you don't give a damn about what he is. His blue eyes shine when he pulls away, and then he leads you in the direction of the nearest bus transport.

“We should go before it's too late. I want to see everything,” John says, and you laugh in joy as you follow after him.

“Sounds good to me! Let's go!”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Have a Holly Jolly Christmas

John Winchester x plus size reader

Christmas is just like any other day for John, but this year is different, his girlfriend has created a winter wonderland for him and his boys, but he won’t let her stay to celebrate

Warnings:  john is a shitty ass parent and boyfriend, angst (honestly Lou can’t you write a fluffy fic for once), insecure!reader, alcohol, fluff

WC: 3.1k

Square Filled: Grumpy during the holidays @spnchristmasbingo

Minors DNI

SPN Christmas Bingo

The low budget motel room had been completely decked out in Christmas decorations. Tinsel over all the lamps and beds, a small tree on the coffee table decorated in cheap bobbles, poorly wrapped presents sitting around it, and fairy lights all around the room. There was even a piece of mistletoe hanging over the doorway to the tiny bathroom and three stockings tapped up under the tv. 

Sam and Dean had gone feral when they walked in after school. Their little minds couldn’t comprehend all the lights and colours that you had hung up everywhere. They ran around, studying everything they could before their eyes landed on the arguably massive pile of presents. You had barely stopped the 8 and 4 year old in time before they ripped off the newspaper to get access to their goodies. 

And now, after gorging themselves on eggnog and Christmas cookies, they were passed out in your arms, Dean on the left and Sam on the right, their little hands linked across your plump stomach, sleeping peacefully for the first time in a while. You had only been in the boys’ life for a few months, John was extremely protective of them, not letting you meet them until you had been dating for a couple years, but already you knew they were your boys and you would do anything for them. And apparently, that entailed spoiling the shit out of them every chance you could. 

Sighing sadly, you looked up from where you had been watching them sleep, to the clock above the small kitchenette. It was well past midnight and yet, John still wasn’t home. You knew Christmas was a hard time for him though, so you just sucked it up and focused on the kids. 

“Kitty?” It was the nickname the boys had given you because John insisted it was rude for them to call you by your first name. Glancing down, you were met with wide green eyes, still glazed over with sleep. 

“What is it, Dean?” You whispered, mindful of the younger boy who was still dozing away, thumb tucked firmly between his lips. He sat up a bit so he could look you in the eye as a very serious expression came over his little face.

“Do you think dad is with Santa and that’s why he isn’t here?” Sometimes you forgot how truly young Dean was. He was forced to be so mature from such a young age, it was quite easy to not remember that he really was only eight. Cupping the back of his head, you gently guided him to lay down once more. He complied without a fight.

“Yeah that’s right. Your dad is helping Santa give out presents to all the little kids all over the world, but he’ll be back soon.” 

“Do you promise?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I pinky promise.” His little pinky curled around your own before his eyes shut and he fell asleep once more. 

It was around four in the morning that you were able to slip from the bed. Carefully, you pulled your duffle bag from under the bed and grabbed the last few presents from it. Each was wrapped in colourful (and expensive) paper with bows and neat little tags. Some said ‘from Santa’ but the largest of the bunch you had labeled ‘from Dad’ with your best attempt at emulating your boyfriend’s handwriting.

The sky was turning a light grey with an impending snowstorm when you heard the impala turn into the motel’s parking lot. Quickly, you threw your clothes and toiletries in the now empty bag before pulling on your boots and coat. You finished zipping it up just as the man himself walked through the door. 

He had obviously been drinking if the stench of whiskey and smoke was anything to go by. But mostly, he just seemed tired. He was beat down, still fading bruises from his last hunt littered his arms and one of his eyes. “Thank you for staying with the boys.” He said it like you were just some babysitter and not his partner of the last three years.

You nodded at him. “It was no problem, you know how much I adore them.”

“Yeah.” He sighed in a way you knew he meant that he was done talking about it. “John?” He glanced at you but you could tell he wasn’t really looking at you or else he would have seen the heartbreak clearly written across your face.

“Just- just enjoy today. They need it, you need it. Forget the world for once and just be with your boys.” And with that, you kissed his scruffy cheek and walked away, planning on driving to Bobby’s to pick up another hunt. “Merry Christmas John.”

He didn’t even try to stop you.

Bobby handed you a beer as he walked back into his living room. Gratefully, you took it and downed half the bottle in one swig. “Woah, slow down there. Someone might think you were turning into me.”

“Har har.” You replied sarcastically and took another pull. Your legs were curled up under you on his couch as your eyes fixed on the small fire he had built up in the fireplace. He raised an eyebrow at you, taking his place in the worn recliner beside you.

“Thought you were with the Winchesters for Christmas?” 

“You know John, he doesn’t want anyone close to his boys, especially not me.” Your voice wavered with barely concealed tears. The ache in your chest had grown with each mile you drove away from them until you felt like someone had ripped out your heart by the time you had gotten to the scrap yard.

“I don’t get why that idjit pushes you away. You’re good for all those boys, not just him.” You shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the fire in some vain attempt to stop yourself from crying.

“I’m not his girlfriend, Bobby. I’m a distraction, a babysitter, a nurse sure, but never his girlfriend. I can’t live up to Mary and he knows it, the same as I do.” You shrugged and finished off the bottle. It had been like that since you started dating. John needed a partner, someone to watch his back and keep his bed warm and he never did anything to change that.

He kept you at arms length all the time and you just accepted it, knowing what he had gone through. But now, it was ripping you apart. You loved those two boys with your whole heart and seeing them but never able to be anything more than an occasional visitor in their lives hurt like a bitch. 

“Maybe you should leave.” Bobby bluntly said. “Why stay with a man who can never see how truly incredible you are?” You couldn’t answer him.

The hunter sighed deeply. “Just think about it for a couple days. Figure out if he’s actually worth your heartbreak.” With a friendly squeeze to your shoulder, he left you alone with your thoughts.

——————

John hated Christmas for one simple reason: it had been Mary’s favourite holiday. She went all out, lights, decorations, the works. And it got even better when Dean was born.

After she died, he found it hard to tolerate the holiday. He knew the boys questioned why they couldn’t have a celebration like the other kids at school but it hurt his heart even just thinking about having a Christmas without her. He avoided the day as much as he could with hunts and booze, but otherwise treating it like any other day.

And now, walking into the hotel room they had been camped out in for the past few weeks, John wanted to cry. You put in so much work to make the place look nice, even if you weren’t sticking around (not that it was your choice). His frown deepened as he glanced at the presents by the tree. 

Knowing you, you had bought the presents with the scant amount of money you earned from actual jobs instead of hustling or downright stealing. You were too kind for a business like this, too soft. 

With a heavy heart, he collapsed on the ratty sofa after pulling a beer from the fridge. His brown eyes occasionally flicked over to his boys, unconsciously making sure they were still alive and well. They would be devastated when they woke up and you weren’t here but he could deal with that.

What he couldn’t deal with was how involved you were in their lives. You had consumed his heart, his soul, his mind and his body. He was terrified of how quickly he had fallen for you. It left him questioning his love for Mary and he hated you for that.

So, like the way he regarded Christmas, he treated you like he would any other woman he had taken to his bed. He knew it hurt you, he could see it in your eyes when he dismissed your feelings or when he shoved you away from the boys. But they were more important, they couldn’t lose another mother and he couldn’t lose another woman he loved.

“Daddy!” He was shaken from his thoughts by a small body landing firmly on his soft stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. Sam’s skinny arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug. John quickly recovered, hugging his youngest back.

“Hey there Sammy.” He chuckled, holding him as close as he could.

“It’s Christmas!” 

“I know it is buddy, why don’t you wake up Dean and you can open your presents.”

“Ok!” As Sam scrambled away, John put his beer down on the ground beside him, purposely keeping it out of their potential eye line. It would do them no good to see him drinking this early in the day. He watched as Dean’s eyes shot open and sprung from the bed.

Soon enough, the kids were surrounded by ripped up paper and brand new toys and books. This is how it should be, John suddenly thought. He had gone four years without giving these boys the joy they deserved, no the joy they needed and he felt like the shittiest person ever.

“Daddy?” Sam was looking up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen, clutching a gorgeous copy of the Wizard of Oz to his chest. “Where did kitty go?” Now that hurt even more. Dean’s gaze also settled on him and he could clearly see the questions in his green eyes.

“Well, kitty had to go see uncle Bobby for a while.” Both their faces fell.

“But why?” 

“He needed her there.”

“But we need kitty here!” Sam insisted as he stomped his little feet as hard as he could. “It’s Christmas! She has to be here for Christmas!” 

And then, he watched in slight horror as Dean stood up and hugged his little brother like a parent would hug a crying child. One hand on the back of his small head, the other arm across his shoulders and tugged him into his chest. “It’s ok Sammy, she’ll come back.”

“But what if she doesn’t? What if she doesn’t want us and then doesn’t come back!” 

“She always comes back Sammy.”

“I want kitty right now!” And he descended into a truly heartbreaking fit of sobs. Moving quickly, John scooped him up and settled back down on the couch, doing his best to sooth his youngest. But Sam fought back, wiggling almost violently in his grasp. “I don’t want you! I want kitty!” With an all mighty jerk, he tumbled from John’s arms and made a mad dash to the bathroom.

The door slammed and locked shut before the hunter could react. “Sam!” He shouted after him, making a move to follow but a little hand on his forearm stopped him in his tracks.

Dean was crying too but they were silent tears, dripping quickly down his full cheeks. “Why does kitty always leave us?” 

His knees creaked as he slowly dropped to his knees. Kneeling before his son, John looked him dead in the eyes. “Sometimes, it just has to be like that Dean. And we’ve got each other, that’s enough.”

“But we wouldn’t even have a Christmas without her.” Dean followed his brother into the small room, leaving John alone with his thoughts and a sinking feeling in his gut.

You would know what to do, you always seemed to have the answers when it came to the boys. The thought ripped through his chest like a bullet. In the seven months since you had known his sons, you had effortlessly become a better parent than he ever had been and yet, you never demanded recognition or love from any of them. You loved them because you could.

And they were right. It was Christmas, the first real Christmas that Sammy had ever had, a Christmas Dean could actually remember. But you weren’t here, because you knew John wouldn’t want you there.

Something came over the hunter then and suddenly he stood bolt upright. His mind was in a haze as he tore down the decorations littered about the room, stuffing them into spare trash bags. Presents were thrown into duffle bags, along with the boy’s clothes. 

“Boys! We’re leaving!” The bathroom door opened a crack and both their little heads peaked out. John threw the last bag over his broad shoulder as he grabbed their winter boots from beside the front door. “Let’s go!” 

They watched him curiously, confused as to why their father had pulled apart the room and was now in a rush to leave. “Where are we going?” Dean spoke up, slowly inching his way out of the bathroom.

John’s face remained stern but his brown eyes were sparkling with something the boys couldn’t quite figure out. “We’re going to save Christmas.”

——————

The fire had begun to burn out but you didn’t care to add any more wood. Your eyes were fixed on the dying flames as you absentmindedly sipped on the warm beer in your hands. Was being with John really worth it? Could you handle feeling like nothing but a burden or bed warmer any more?

You wanted to stay, you loved all three of the Winchesters so much. Yet, in the cold light of morning, after a night with John worshipping you and your body, when he would ignore your existence and dismiss you like just another one night stand, you felt lower than dirt.

You would give him Christmas, and then, you would be gone forever. The room glowed a dull orange with the sunset and your eyes drifted over to the window beside you. Snow was falling lazily from the sky, covering the junkyard in a layer of peaceful white.

“Kitty!” Your head snapped around and your breath caught in your throat as tears built up behind your eyes. Sam and Dean stood in the doorway, huge smiles on their faces, dressed up as little elves, complete with fake ears and hats with bells.

“Boys? What are you doing here?” Sam looked like he was about to sprint at you but a large hand suddenly appearing on his little shoulder stopped him. You laughed tearfully.

John stood behind his boys, dressed head to toe in a ridiculous red suit with matching hat. He was smiling brighter than you had ever seen him smile before. A full duffle bag was in his other hand, tinsel spilling from the open zipper. 

“Now, what did we practice in the car?” He prompted, eyes falling to the children in front of him.

“Merry Christmas Kitty!” They shouted together before Dean took a step forward and held out a piece of paper.

“Santa says you’ve been very good this year so you get a very spectial present.” 

“Special Dean.” John corrected.

“Special.” He nodded and then shuffled forward, holding the paper up even higher. Sam was visibly vibrating in his dad’s grip, eager to run at you. You slipped from the couch, landing painfully on your knees but you ignored the pain and instead took the paper from the 8 year old’s hands.

Dean smiled shyly as you turned it over. It was hard to make out at first like most drawings done by a child but as soon as the lines and colourful smudges became clear, the tears broke free. 

There were four figures carefully doodled on top of various stickers, two of them significantly taller than the other two. One smaller figure had a book in their hands, obviously Sam. While the other was holding what appeared to be a pie or scrambled eggs, you couldn’t really tell. It was Dean.

The bigger people were holding hands with a sloppy heart over their heads. The slightly taller one had a beer beside his feet and a dark beard while the wider person had cat ears on their head. It was you and John.

Written at the top of the paper in very sloppy handwriting was: ‘We love you kitty!’

Suddenly, your arms were full as Sam and Dean launched themselves at you. You pulled them to your chest and cried, your heart feeling so full and yet so broken at the same time. How could you have even thought about leaving these perfect little boys? 

Your chest shook with sobs as you held them as tight as you could. There was a thud and then another pair of arms wrapped around you. John’s chin rested on the top of your head, the boys nestled between you. “I love you, I’m sorry I never showed you the love you deserve.” His voice was thick with emotion.

“I love you too.” You murmured back, lifting your head to look him in the eyes. The edge of his lips turned up and he surged forward, capturing your own in a deep and passionate kiss that made you ache for more. 

“Ewwwww.” Sam gagged, trying to pull away but you just laughed and yanked him closer. John laughed heartily.

“Get used to it Sammy, kitty is never leaving us again.” You glanced at him curiously but he just smiled mysteriously at you. “Kitty is staying for good.” He gently cupped your full cheek, his thumb tracing the peak.

“I am?” You questioned playfully.

“You are.” He answered definitively. “Because it’s Christmas and family is supposed to be together on Christmas.” 

“Yeah!” Dean emphasised, excitedly wiggling against you. “And Santa needs Mrs. Claus! Everyone knows that!” 

“Oh really?”

“Yes!” Sam spoke up this time. “And daddy is Santa so you have to be his wife!”

You grinned. “I guess I have to agree then.” The boys cheered and John tightened his grip, tugging you away from them so he could kiss you once more.

“Merry Christmas Mrs Claus.”

“Merry Christmas Santa.”

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[davekat-sucks]

Good day to you, Tumblr blog Davekat Sucks! You may not know me but I am a royal messenger!

Today is a worldwide holiday in which our Brave king John I of house Egbert landed bound by a meteor on the lands of Washington, United States and graced us with his beauty, charm, strength, and courage for his 27th year in a row!

If you may be familiar with monarchies you must know that a king needs his heirs and heiresses! Someone as handsome as John needs as many concubines as he can to continue the Homestuck kingdom’s divine crown! Unfortunately John’s wives, Vriska, Roxy, Terezi, and the like, have all left to go on holiday!

As such John has chosen YOU THE READER to be paired with him for his birthday, and I can verify that John x You, the MSPA reader, is better than Davekat.

John x MSPA Reader is better than Davekat. I will bear all of John's children and be the best waifu for Master John Egbert. Anything for the Heir of Breath.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

John (the Apostle) | We'll Meet Again | Romantic

Dialogue prompt: “We need to talk.”

Requested: Yes

Your husband John tells you that Jesus has sent him out to heal the sick and cast out demons, but your plea to stay sparks worry in his heart, especially when you reveal otherwise joyous news.

Ever since Jesus spoke the words that He was sending out His followers two by two, John’s thoughts have started to run all over the place. 

“Are you saying we could die?” he had queried after Jesus revealed the danger they could find themselves in, and even though John knew that it wasn’t the best question to calm his nerves, for Jesus told the group that they would one day know the meaning of what it means to give one’s life for their faith, He had assured them that this trip would not come to that.

It still wasn’t much of a comfort to John, however, and he could vividly imagine the way your face would drop and the dejected glimmer that would grow inside your (e/c) eyes once he would bring you the news that he had to go.

You had always been so supportive of him, and your parents-in-law were there to keep an eye on you. Luckily, Zebedee and Salomé found no issue in taking you into their home for a while just so that you wouldn’t be as lonely. It didn’t ease his feeling of immense guilt, though. 

After everyone has scattered and found their respective partner – John himself would complete the ministry trip to Joppa together with Thomas – John can’t help but turn to his Master, Who is already looking at him with a pondering yet friendly look on His face, as if He knows what the question will be already.

“Rabbi,” John begins after clearing his throat, “I’ve… I’ve got my concerns.”

“About (Y/n).” Jesus replies, causing the younger Son of Thunder to nod in acknowledgement. 

“I’m-I’m not too keen on leaving my wife here on her own. I know she’ll have my parents, and Eden, and I know that nothing bad will happen to her, but still. I’m frightened that something will happen to me, and I-I-I know that you said that this trip will not come to that, b-but still, what kind of husband would I be if–”

“Calm down, John.” Jesus cuts him off, putting a hand on his shoulder to squeeze it gently. “I am certain she will understand. Why don’t you ask Simon how he deals with these worries, hm? Following Me is not always easy, for any of you. But sometimes we need to spread Truth no matter what and whom we leave at home.”

John sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “I apologise, Rabbi, and I need to emphasise that it is not because I don’t trust Your word. But how can I… How can I possibly break (Y/n)’s heart that way?”

Jesus lets out a hum and smiles slightly. “You won’t, John. No matter where you’ll go, you’re bound to her and she to you. As husband and wife, you’ll always be connected.”

Swallowing thickly, John stands and dusts his hands down his tunic. “I… I know, Rabbi, I’m just… I need some time to think about how I’ll bring the news.”

“If I may do a suggestion, beloved John,” Jesus muses, “Keep it short and straight to the point. I know for a fact that (Y/n) herself has something to tell you as well.”

John narrows his eyes. “How do You… Of course you do, but… What are You talking about?”

Shrugging, Jesus grins and brings his clay cup to his lips to drink the remainder of His water, not giving away anything. With growing nerves coiling inside his gut, John puts his sandals back on, tells the people who are still in Eden and Simon’s house shalom and heads outside. 

The sounds of market fill his ears as John slowly heads over to your homestead near the house of his parents. He wonders if you’re still out purchasing food, if you’ve started on dinner yet or if you’re currently patching up the holes inside his tunic. A pit of guilt forms in his heart. He has barely returned after weeks on the road. The last time he had the opportunity to properly spend time with you was at least four months ago and he has to leave again?

With heavy steps, he opens the door to your shared house and kisses his fingertips before touching the mezuzah hanging on the frame before quickly washing his feet. The sound of your gentle humming streaming from the kitchen adjacent to the hallway makes him inexplicably upset, tears springing to his eyes. 

When he stands on the threshold, taking in your beautiful form as you happily chop up a few pickled onions, he clears his throat. A little startled, you look up at him, a large smile spreading itself over your features once you realise it is your husband who is disturbing the preparation for dinner, and you wipe your hands on your apron before walking towards him, giving him a soft kiss. “Hello darling,” you quip, “It’s good to see you. I’ve got these wonderful eggs at market so we can enjoy them with breakfast tomor—”

“We need to talk.” The moments the words leave his lips, John regrets them instantly upon the coldness thereof. Your brow knits together into a frown as your smile drops. 

“Ah… Of course, let’s sit,” you say, gesturing to your dining table, and the pair of you sink down on the pillows that are on the floor. 

John puts his hand on the table and reaches over to grab yours, patting it softly. He brings it to his mouth to kiss the back of it, sighing deeply as he tries to find the right words. Your eyes search his face for a sign of whatever might be bothering him, but when you find none, you gulp. “John, what is going on? You’re scaring me.”

“Love, Jesus is sending us out.” 

You narrow your eyes. “Where to? And when?”

“I’m going with Thomas, and I think it’s best that you don’t know where we’ll be going. You’d only get concerned.”

Blinking rapidly, you shake your head. “You’re only making me worry more by being so secretive about it. What are you going to do?”

John squeezes your fingers. “We are going out to spread Jesus’ words amongst the Jews around the country… South-west, to be more precise, to Joppa. He says that it is not sustainable for Him to be the only one spreading the news of God’s Kingdom.”

“Where will Jesus be going, then?” you inquire, “Can’t He come with you, too?”

Your husband sighs. “Jesus will be visiting Nazareth in the meantime.”

When you fall silent, John feels his stomach drop. “Love, Jesus promised us that we will be fine. Nothing bad will happen to us.”

“Yet!” you whimper, “John, I’ve barely seen you in the past months! I miss you.” You cup his cheek and rub your thumb through his beard. “I… I long to spend more time with you.”

Leaning into your touch, John closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth of your palm on his face. “My love, we will be back before you know it, and I’m sure that we will get a break afterwards. I promise that I’ll be there for you, then.”

Your bottom lip trembles when John opens his eyes again, watching you with such gentleness that emotion nearly overwhelms you. 

“Everything is just so uncertain these days,” you admit, “I know that Jesus is our Messiah and that nothing will ever be the same because of Him, but still, It scares me so much.”

John takes your other hand in his, too, and looks at you pleadingly. “My parents will protect you, you don’t need to worry about your safet—”

“I’m pregnant, John.”

His eyes widen and he feels his cheeks grow hot. 

“What?”

You sniffle, a few tears rolling down your face. You quickly wipe them away. “I found out a few weeks after you left the last time.” With a watery smile, you scoot closer to him. “You’re going to be a father.”

A sound of disbelief leaves his lungs and he grins widely, embracing you immediately. You giggle, dragging a hand through his thick hair, and you hold him for a while as he tightens his grip, nose buried into your shoulder. “Love, that is… Wow! After trying for so long! Praise Adonai!”

Laughing, you nod firmly. “Yes,” you breathe, “I went to synagogue the moment I found out to make an offering.”

John pulls away from the hug and catches your gaze, hands on your upper arms. “I will ask Jesus if our trip can be shorter, I’ll–”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “No, John. There is no need for that. I trust that He knows what is best for you. It is always going to be difficult to be apart, but we know that it is for a good cause. You need to leave behind a lot to follow the Messiah, and sometimes, that includes me as well as your safety. But I know that it is worth it.”

With a sigh, John pulls you into another hug. “I know,” he murmurs, “It is worth it. I trust our Master and I know that God will be with me wherever I go. But it doesn’t make it any less difficult. Especially now that you’re pregnant, I wish I could be there for you, to help you out wherever I can.” His hands find your stomach and rest there for a while, even though no swell is visible yet. “I can’t believe it… We are going to have a baby?!”

Another giggle falls from your lips and he leans in to kiss you softly, both uncertainty and happiness swirling through his mind. He chooses to focus on the latter, and on you, as he tells you that he loves you in between gentle pecks. 

“Despite the fact that you have to leave,” you whisper, a little breathless as your cheeks are warm and pink, “I don’t think I have ever been happier before.” 

“Me neither,” John confesses. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell the others… You are going to be such a good eema, my love.”

“And our child is going to have the best abba in the world.”

John smiles, pulling you into his lap before connecting his mouth to yours again, the both of you enjoying the moment before the inevitable hour of his departure comes, but until then, you will bask in this delightful milestone within your marriage.

[fanfictionalraven]

Quick Poll

*I have never written John and I am NOT a John sympathizer but...I have a thought.

[lapetitepatisserie]

cod × fem!reader ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

The familiar sound of keys in the door alerted you to your husband’s return.

“My love?” he called, looking for you, boots making heavy footsteps as he made his way towards you and your child. His eyes soften once they land on you and your baby girl.

“How’s my princess?” he drawls, voice deep with exhaustion from work.

You look down at the child sitting in your lap, occupied with trying to fit a chubby foot into her mouth. A steady finger reaches underneath your chin, lifting it to meet his warm, intense gaze.

“I’m talking about this one.”

[evermoreal]

price would be strangely possessive over his assistant.

referring to her as things that really aren’t work appropriate at all. “swee’eart,” “dolly,” “sugar.” once, a “baby” slipped through his teeth, but he was switching the subject before she could really catch on.

it’s hard to pinpoint exactly when it was he started tacking “my” in front of his pet names. “my angel,” “my love.”

even when she wasn’t in the room — it was impossible to know he was talking about a colleague with the way he spoke about her. “my woman’s always on my case abou’ shit like that — cholesterol levels, sugar intake. fuckin’ bullshit, but i do it to make ‘er happy.” or “can’t stay long, lads — got my lady waitin’ on me.”

in the summer months, her skirts get a bit shorter and her tops a bit tighter. he doesn’t blame her, the AC is shit and the heat can be suffocating. what does bother him, though, is the way his men ogle her as they stroll past her desk. how they’re coming up with excuses to visit her throughout the day.

it’s an easy enough fix. “why don’t ye come work in my office for the day, lovey?” he’s already collecting her paperwork. “keep an old man company, would ye? i’ve got a nice little fan too, keep ye nice an’ cool.”

though the job came with benefits, perhaps more than an assistant should be getting, price didn’t think it was enough. when her phone started to slow and the screen cracked, he left a new one on her desk. didn’t bother mentioning it came out of his paycheque. if she complains about her outfit — all my good clothes are in the wash — he’ll take her shopping, doesn’t let her worry about the totals. and, hey, if they end up at a lingerie shop, no one has to know, right? he’s just being a good boss. it’s only crossing a few boundaries when he gets her to model it for him in the fitting rooms. when she disappears behind the curtain, john adjusts himself in his slacks — it’s a natural reaction. on that note, it would make too much of a fuss if he were to correct the worker when she asks if his wife needs any help.

when day turns to night and she’s refusing price’s suggestion of hitting another shop, he pulls into a nearby restaurant, insists on treating her to a glass of wine to end the night. finding out she’s a lightweight is a pleasant discovery — two glasses in and her skin is warm to the touch, she’s giggling and hanging onto his every word. he likes her like this, he decides — but it’s not safe to leave her alone. no, she should stay with him tonight. another few sips and she’s agreeing, changing into one of her new lingerie sets and falling into john’s bed, dozing off with his hand splayed over her tummy, beard tickling the back of her neck.

it’s been too long since he’s had a woman in his life. his wires have gotten a bit crossed. you can’t blame him, can you?

[mystra-midnight]

Two Tickets to Paradise

summary: you'd fought and given up, then started fighting again. the lighthouse, which had started as a paradise, was turning into hell, and it was breaking you—slowly tearing away your sanity.

warnings: 18+ only. on the darker side. mentions of alcohol consumption. rough sex. dacryphilia. hints of emotional distress. hints of angst and/or mental anguish.

words: 990.

notes: honestly wrote this so surprisingly quickly. murphy's always been one of my favs from the show - the arrogance, the vulnerability, the character development? jesus it just does thinks for me. (i don't think i'd ever say no if you send in thots and imagines for him)

The moment the lighthouse door slammed shut, you should have panicked, but you hadn't been able to find it in yourself to be afraid or even upset. After surviving a trek through a seemingly endless desert, then a boat ride across a seemingly endless ocean, a serpent attack, and a night out in the cold with an injured and angry delinquent, the lighthouse was a welcomed surprise—a perfect paradise.

Not even John—fucking—Murphy, with his toxic tongue and perfect eyes, could ruin your good mood. The two of you had never been particularly close, but you got along well enough that the shared space wasn't uncomfortable. For the first few days, you gave each other space, choosing to sit on opposite sides of the room and occupy yourselves.

Occasionally, the two of you would watch and rewatch the videotape that explained what caused the apocalypse on Earth. On the tenth day, you both drank yourselves stupid and spent hours sharing secrets, thoughts, and theories. You discovered you both had a mutual distrust of the adults who'd arrived on Earth and taken over as though they hadn't sent one hundred kids to their deaths until eventually passing out.

That became your routine for the next forty-five days. Or maybe it was fifty-four. You didn't know.

You tried to keep count, but the days had started to run together, turning into a blur of drunken moments that hurt to think about. You had screamed and cried. You had clawed at the doors until your nails bled. You'd fought and given up, then started fighting again. The lighthouse, which had started as a paradise, was turning into hell, and it was breaking you—slowly tearing away your sanity.

Murphy was in a similar predicament. Some days he screamed and raged around the room, breaking what he could. Other days, he sat completely still and stared ahead as though he no longer inhabited his own body. Eventually, you turned to each other for comfort and escape. That was how you'd found yourself bent over the arm of the sofa, his cock buried deep in your slick walls.

Murphy was wild and untamed, lost in a frenzy of emotions. His hand was fisted in your hair, pulling hard as he pounded you. The sound of his pelvis hitting your ass was obscene and loud, as were the moans and gasps forced from your lips. He was rough—rougher than you liked, but you still couldn't find it in yourself to care.

The pain and pleasure blended so beautifully together that it left you speechless and dazzled, only able to moan each time he pushed into the satin clutch of your cunt. Before this moment, you'd felt hopeless, utterly so, and at the end of your rope, your sanity had been stretched so thin and buried so deep in your being that you never thought you'd find it again.

Murphy found it.

And now the pain was starting to feel so good. It made you forget about the emptiness that had been eating away at you—the hopelessness, the desperation. You needed him. You needed him to stop your thoughts from racing and to fuck everything from your mind until all that remained was him, his cock, and the pleasure searing in your veins.

He happily obliged as he needed the distraction as much as you did.

Both of you needed to feel something—anything—instead of that all-consuming disparity. Luckily, the familiar warmth of orgasm was starting to course through your veins, leaving your skin sweat-slicked and your voice ragged as Murphy adjusted his angle, somehow driving his cock deeper into your sweet cunt, the tip of his cock hitting that spot that sent you suddenly careening.

“Murphy!” You sounded panicked, like you were breaking, and perhaps you were. He did it again, feeling your walls tighten around him. He was dripping with your slick; the wiry hair at the base of his shaft matted; your own equally as messy from where he pulled and yanked it. He was in a frenzy, chasing the climax snaking through his veins, relishing in the feeling of it coiling tighter and tighter in the pit of his stomach until he could hardly breathe, until all he felt was flames licking at his skin.

He was going to break you—maybe kill you—but you didn’t care because the same feelings were consuming you. It was glorious and all-consuming. You started to shake. Your thighs trembled so violently that only the arm of the couch kept you from collapsing.

He didn't notice—or maybe he did and he didn't care; either way, it didn't matter; you didn't mind.

He could use you; you'd let him. He could break you; you'd thank him.

But the moment his cock slipped from your slick walls, you couldn't forgive him. Tears stung in your eyes as you sobbed, the sound welling up from your chest only to be drowned under the sounds of his grunts and groans. Murphy snapped his hips forward, seemingly spurred onward by the tears that rolled down your cheeks in rivers, his pelvis meeting the reddened skin of your ass with a sinful slap, slap, slap.

The moment you needed and wanted with every beat of your heart faded away, your orgasm sleeping through your fingers like waters as you felt thick, ivory rops of come hit your lower back. Murphy tugged hard at your hair, sending pain blossoming through your scalp as he shadowed over you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You wanted to be angry. You wanted to fight and rage, as you'd done many times already. But the feel of his other hand moving between your legs, his fingers gathering your slick and bringing it to your own lips to taste, melted such thoughts from your brain.

"Not yet," he hissed, pushing two fingers into your mouth, the taste of your own arousal spreading over your tongue. "Not until you're begging."

[swordsandholly]

Thinking about a mechanic!AU where the 141 boys run a garage and need a new receptionist. They hire you because you’re just so cute (great tits) and have a decent resume but it becomes a slight problem when they realize you’re a bit… dense.

Total ditz to be precise.

But they can’t really get mad when you get the keys for clients mixed up and look at them with those big eyes all teary and a little pout pushing out your lower lip.

Price is the most patient, perfectly content to walk you through how to file paperwork and fill out forms. Instructing you in a low voice while his breath brushes the shell of your ear. It’s really their fault for having such a terrible system, you know? Don’t worry about it too much, dove. He’ll settle his big hands on your shoulders and gently trace up and down your arms. See? You’re getting it. Just needed some more practice, hm?

Johnny is more than happy to show you around the garage, rattling off everything he knows about all those nitty gritty details that go right over your pretty little head. He’ll pop open the hood of some sports car and point to the engine to show it off. No, bonnie, you’ve got tae get in close. Closer.

Until you’re bent entirely over in one of those too-short skirts you wear everyday. It takes all his willpower not to yank you into the supply closet.

Gaz is just so sweet to you. Always bringing you little treats and candies to suck on. To help you concentrate, of course. Always greeting you with a soft ‘baby girl’ at the beginning of your shift. Whenever you’re standing around be it at the printer or counter - wherever really - he’ll slip a hand on your waist. It always trails a little lower, his pinky just edging on the hem of your too tight jeans.

Ghost gets frustrated with you to the point of causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes. He’s feels guilty, sure, but bloody hell just print the damn receipt. He avoids you for the most part. Until one evening when it’s pouring down. You forgot your rain coat of course, silly girl. He offers you a ride which you take happily.

After that he can’t get rid of you. You bring him coffees (how you remember his order word for word but not where you last left your own cup is beyond him) and giggle at his jokes. When a client gets too snappy or too loud he’s the first to step in - standing behind you glaring at them with his huge arms crossed over his chest until they back down.

[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[short-honey-badger]

Shore Leave 4

Smaller part today. John has his first sleepover and meets your cat.

Shore Leave Masterlist

The walk back to your apartment is a peaceful one, and you take the opportunity to point out your favorite café and the library where you spend your free time. John listens to you like he would listen to his superior's orders, cataloging your likes and dislikes. He wanted to be sure to remember everything you told him.

The two of you come to a stop once you reach the building, and you turn to tell your new friend goodbye, only to halt at seeing his expression. Since you met John, you've noticed that he keeps his emotions tight to his chest, nothing more than a furrow of his brow or a slight upturn of his lips. It doesn't bother you, however. Only adds to his alluring mystery.

“Would you like to come in?”

You can see the surprise that lights up in his eyes and smiles up at him, squeezing his hand.

“Yes.”

Your smile stretches into a grin, and you untangle your hand from his, swiping your card to allow you entry and holding the door open for John to step through. He follows you up to the fourth floor and then down the hall to apartment D-2. You swipe your card again, and the door pops open with a soft ding.

“MREWOWW.”

John can't help how he reacts at the sudden sound, and he moves on instinct, grabbing you by the waist and tugging you behind him and away from the threat. Adrenaline pumps through his veins, and he peeks inside to find the culprit.

A massive cat sits right inside the apartment door, long orange fur, and big green eyes stare him down. You can't help but giggle as John relaxes and releases you, allowing you to step through the door and bend to pick up the furball.

John shuts the door behind him and takes in your room with a quick glance. It looks nothing like the quarters he is used to. No, your home is cluttered but not dirty, giving it a comforting, homey vibe. John likes it. The spartan focuses back on you after a moment, and you introduce your cat.

“John, this is Nami. Nami, this is John.”

The cat meows again, so loud that he is surprised that the neighbors can't hear it. You grin at him and step forward.

“Let her sniff your hand first. She can be a bit judgemental.”

Slowly, the Master Chief presented his hand to the cat, and Nami leaned forward, sniffing deeply for a couple of seconds before shoving her head forward and under his hand, demanding pets from the new human in her territory.

John isn't prepared for how soft Nami is, and he gets lost in threading his calloused fingers through her silky fur, expression tinged with wonder.

You watch the exchange with a soft look. Anyone could tell at first glance that John wasn't used to a normal, everyday life like you were. No, this man, who had been so vague in his time in the UNSC, knew nothing but war. It makes you sad, but you don't pity him. That would just be disrespectful of his service. Anyone who wanted to fight had your respect, especially the Spartans.

Not that you knew that John was one. He hadn't told you for a reason, after all.

“Do you want to hold her?”

John glances down at you when you speak up, and nods, so you lead him over to the couch and gesture for him to sit. When he does, you hand Nami over and the spoiled baby curls up in his lap like she's always belonged there. With your hands free, you bounce into the kitchen and retrieve two bottles of water, handing one over for John to crack open with ease. You sit beside him on the couch, legs tucked under you and arm pressed against his own.

The two of you enjoy the comfortable silence. The only noise in the room was Nami and her thunderous purrs. You glance over at John and see that he wears an expression of muted wonder, his intense eyes relaxed and half lidded as he smooths his hand up and down the cat's back. You wonder when John had the chance to do something like this before today. You don't know if you would like the answer.

The Master Chief lets his mind wonder as he sits on your couch, feeling more like a normal man now more than ever before. His shoulders have relaxed, his head resting against the plush cushions, and John wishes that Cortana could see him. She had always pushed for him to express himself more, to be more than what the UNSC shaped him as. She had cared for him in a way that no one else had, and it had shattered him to watch her leave him.

He casts his eyes over to you where your head rests against his shoulder, one hand over his lap to thread your fingers in Nami's fur, and thinks that maybe you cared like Cortana too. You were soft, full of a childish joy, and a breath of fresh air of the horrors that the spartan had faced. His thoughts are interrupted when a new sound catches his sensitive ears, and he looks back down at you and notices how heavy your head has grown.

John shifts in his seat, adjusting his arm to instead wrap around your waist and rest your head against his chest. You shameless snuggle into him in your sleep, seeking the furnace that is his body heat. He leans down and presses his lips to your brow, arm tight and secure around you.

“I've got you,” he murmurs and then leans his head back again, eyes sliding shut, ears tuned to the sound of your soft snores.