#john murphy tickle

[slutforbuck]

Longing - Part 2

P1 P3

You were trying not to laugh at William ’s attempt to feed the pigs when they rode in that afternoon. The sound of horses alerted you before you ever saw them.

“Daddy! You better come quickly!” You stood tall and proud as Murphy rode towards you with a smirk across his slimy fcae. Your father came to stand next to you. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” “Good afternoon John.” Sheriff Brady leaned forward on his saddle horn to address your father. “Mr. Dolan and Mr. Murphy are complaining about their merchandise wagon being plundered. They think you’re behind it.” In sync, you and Dick started forward, “That’s a fargin’ lie and you know it!” “Richard. Y/n.” Dick backed down, but you stayed on edge. “Mr. Murphy is going to continue coming to you and claiming I’ve taken his property until I’m pronounced a thief and shaken out of Lincoln. I’ve never touched his property. I have no cause.” “Well! The Belted Earl has spoken.” Murphy locked onto your eyes, immediately making you uneasy. “Look behind you Earl. All I see are hired thieves. Shame such a pretty girl has to be here with this filth. You could have a fine place with me lass.” The men with Murphy and Brady laughed, all knowing exactly the place Murphy had in mind. “You son of a bi—“ Your words were cut off when Chavez yanked you back, covering your mouth. His soft whispers tickled your ear, “No querida. Not now. Things will only be worse.” You watched as Murphy dropped from his horse, whispering harshly to your father. Chavez pulled you behind him, shielding you from the men’s view. Peering from behind his arm, you watched Murphy mount his horse, readying himself to depart. “You are ambitious Earl. But you’d be better off selling ladies’ undergarments in Hamstead. Get ready for hell!” With the last threat, the group rode off back towards town. You stayed in your place behind Chavez until your father came for you. “Thank you for protecting her. I’ve got her.” Chavez’s warm gaze lingered on your face for a moment, then he turned away. John looped your arm through his and guided you back inside. “Pay him no mind Y/n. He’s just a cruel old man.” But there was more to Mr. Murphy than just cruelty. You could tell from the cloud’s in your father’s eyes that he was worried.

Knock. Knock. “Y/n, dear, could you get that?” You weren’t sure who to expect when you opened the door, no on e really came out to the ranch, and none of the boys knocked. A tall, lanky young man stood at the door, bags tossed carelessly over his shoulders. “May I help you?” The door was open just wide enough for half your body to be seen, and the young man looked taken aback. “Uh, I’m sorry ma’am. I must be at the wrong place. I’m looking for the Tunstall ranch.”“You found it.” The door swung wide, and you were shooed away, barley catching the young man’s name. McCloskey.

William accompanied you and your father into town in the days leading up to New Year’s. William needed nice clothes, and you were allowed a new dress. William and your father smiled as you stepped onto the shop’s porch in your new dress. “Why Miss. Tunstall you look mighty nice!” You smiled at William and gave a twirl, “You clean up nicely too William.” John went to ready the wagon and William helped you up into the seat. “Y/n, I’m mighty thankful for you and John welcoming me in the way you have.” “You’re family now Billy.”

Waiting outside the ranch home, the boys watched as Chavez threw his knives into the well bucket and admired his skill. Shots were fired from the roof, startling them all. “Regulators!” William’s laughter died down, and the men all looked towards John. Charlie was the first to speak, “Y/n’s coming isn’t she?” “Who gets to be her escort this year?” The men’s voices began to merge with each other, all eager to see you. Before John could answer, you stepped out onto the porch. “To answer your questions: Yes, I am coming. And no, I do not need an escort. I would like a dance with each of you tonight though.” The boys all grinned and agreed, while your father walked you to the wagon.

You sat with Charlie, Steve, and McCloskey laughing at Billy’s attempt to dance. The music slowed, and eyes fell on you from feet away. Chavez came to you, gently pulling you to your feet. You laid your head onto his chest, and he pulled you tightly against him. Softly, your eyes closed, and you inhaled, drinking in his scent. Warm leather and worn wood filled your senses as he silently swayed and twirled you to the music. As the song came to a close, you looked up to meet his eyes. Dark and earthy like the ground after a fresh rain, illuminated gold by the flickering fire. He leaned in to you, impossibly close. His warm breath fanned across your lips, but just before he melted into you, gunshots rang out. “Happy New Year!” His lips were so close you could feel his words on yours, “Happy New Year querida.”

The sun had just begun to rise on the ride back, and the boys were joyfully singing off key. Your father looked to you, but you were still back in Lincoln, dancing with Chavez. “What’s on your mind dear?” Your eyes kept a far off look, and your voice was soft. “Daddy, how did you know you were in love with Mother?” Memories glazed over John’s eyes and he smiled. “I imagine it was much like what you feel with him.” You head would have flown clean off your body if you had turned any faster, “Him?” John chuckled, “I’ve seen the stolen glances. The longing looks. The dance, just tonight. Chavez is a fine suitor my darling.” A faint blush covered your cheeks. How could your father know what you were just starting to figure out? The sound of horses behind you pulled both of your from your tender father-daughter moment. “Not the girl.” You started to turn toward the sickening voice, but your father stopped you. “Remember my dear, I will always love you.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek as the bullets flew and he fell to the ground. “DADDY!!!!!” Your body hit the cold, hard ground when you jumped from the wagon. “Daddy no. Please. No. Please.” Your bloodcurdling screams alerted the boys, and both Billy and Chavez began racing towards you. Doc stopped Billy and guided him away as Murphy’s men came barreling towards them. Chavez managed to get to you without being seen, but you refused to move. He found you laying across your father, sobs racking your body. His usually gentle voice was pressing and urgent, “Y/n please, we have to get you out of here before they come back. Querida please.” Screaming, you hit at him, banging your fists against his arms and chest. “NO! Just leave me here to die!” Chavez finally managed to pull you from your father and get you onto his horse. The kicking and screaming subsided, instead turning to silent sobs, as Chavez rode with you held tightly against you.

[sillyfeathers]

Prank War (John Murphy x Reader)

Prank War Characters: John Murphy, gnc reader ft. Raven Reyes & Jasper Jordan Prompt(s): “They’re having a prank war and Murphy finds out that the reader is ticklish.” Warnings: swearing Words: 1240

An elaborate prank on Murphy yields a much less intricate, but far more effective response.

A/N: for an anon who requested this ages ago 😭 I hope this finds you! Set during s3/s4 times.

“It wasn’t me!”

Knowing what you knew, and having done what you’d done, hearing Jasper’s protests was all the prompting you needed to duck behind a wall, out of sight from the two in the adjacent room.

“I took it to Reyes, this has your nerdy ass written all over it, Jordan, and Monty’s,” Murphy scoffed, and from the volume of his voice you judged he was by the door, much closer to you. “You thought you’d do it during mine and Y/N’s little prank war, huh? Thought you’d get away with it?”

Jasper let out a series of indignant sounds, which gradually morphed together to form a coherent sentence. “Wha– I– I didn’t even– This wasn’t us! Why wouldn’t you think it was Y/N?”

“Y/N wouldn’t go to these lengths, let alone know how to do it in the first place,” Murphy shot back. You couldn’t help but snort. Clearly, your observations of Raven and Monty’s work hadn’t been for nothing.

“You hear that?”

“Don’t try distract me, Jordan, I haven’t gotten to the part where I tell you to– ”

“I’m serious! I heard someone laugh!”

Eavesdropping was fun, especially under the current circumstances, but this was a pretty obvious signal to get the hell out of there. You cringed at yourself, carefully manoeuvring your way out from your hiding place to head back outside. You figured by the time Murphy worked out it actually wasn’t Jasper or Monty, you’d have sought out some sort of protection, or there’d be another crisis requiring your attention. Despite the slip-up, it had always been a solid plan.

Oh, if you’d just paid a little more attention to the sound of Murphy’s voice.

He was close to the door, as you’d predicted. Had you been listening as you made your exeunt, however, you would have likely realised that he was backing up, off to seek out who he believed to be his other attacker. Now, this oversight landed you directly in Murphy’s eyeline, and the realisation dawned across his face much too quickly.

“You,” he snarled, pointing an accusatory finger.

You shrugged, biting back a grin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And so the race was on. Murphy wasn’t buying your bullshit for a minute, and having known he wouldn’t, you were quick, turning on your heel and heading outside the Ark without a second to spare. Murphy was faster, and stronger than you, but you were more agile, and for once, you were grateful for the rubble and clutter scattered around the ship as you ran, knowing your pursuer would have a much harder time getting through it than you did. 

You stumbled out into the open, taking a moment to assess your next move. This prank war of yours had been going on for a while, and you’d been involved in a number of chases with Murphy, and you knew your best shot was finding a willing protector to keep him away until he decided a more elaborate prank response was needed — it at least gave you a chance to get yourself together. 

A string of curses and the sound of clanging metal alerted you to Murphy’s presence just a few feet away, so you took off again, heading towards a silhouette who vaguely resembled Raven. Now fully outdoors, you could hear Murphy gaining on you, and in a last-ditch attempt, you hollered, “RAVEN!”.

She turned towards you, and you were close enough now to see the bewilderment and slight concern on her face — but not a second later, you had a faceful of dirt.

Murphy rolled you over, straddling your waist. You spluttered, wrinkling your nose at the amount of dirt and mud that was now clinging to you.

“What’re you gonna do, asshole, beat me up?” you teased, grinning up at Murphy. He was smirking, mischief behind his eyes, which only made you smile wider — it was rare for any of you to get these moments free of fear and stress.

“Maybe,” he replied, feigning a punch to your stomach. He backed out at the last minute, so the impact was light, and the unexpected sensation made you jump, panic flashing across your face.

“Damn, Y/N, you’re that scared of me?” He made the movement again, and again, you flinched, pressing your lips together.

The realisation dawning on his face this time was far more terrifying. 

“Holy shit,” he chuckled, and to your dismay, his hands were forming claws, resting against you.

“Murphy, don’t you dare,” you warned, grabbing his wrists. He cocked an eyebrow in response, slowly wiggling his fingers against your t-shirt. You let out a strangled yell, unable to hold back your smile. “No no no! Murphy!” Your grip was tightening, but he was determined, fingers spidering in place until you gave, letting go to bat at his hands. The moment your guard dropped, he went in for the kill.

His hands locked around your ribcage, thumbs pressing in between alternating ribs while his fingers curled into a spot beneath your shoulder blades that made you shriek.

“MURPHY!” Hysterical laughter was bubbling from your lips as he repeatedly squeezed, sending a jolt of ticklish energy through your body every time he did so. No matter which way you twisted, you couldn’t shake Murphy, whose hands were now travelling up and down your sides to test out new spots.

“A motion sensor, huh?” he finally spoke, and his voice was laced with an unbearingly teasing tone. “That’s pretty advanced.”

“I’ve been watching Rahahaven,” you wheezed, a fresh wave of giggles pouring anew as Murphy’s hands slipped under your shirt, scribbling against your stomach.

“All for me to find out you’re ticklish,” he sighed. “Awfully, terribly ticklish.”

“Shut up!” He was ruthless, unforgiving, and everytime you thought he’d give up he’d start tickling in a new spot, and you’d give him the exact reaction he’d wanted, and the cycle would begin again. By this point, your laughter and mad squirming had weakened you to a giggling puddle, with any attempts to gather your strength thwarted by fingers worming under your arm or fluttering under your chin.

“I think you’re killing them, John,” Raven called, making her way over to the two of you.

“They can take it,” he replied, beckoning her over. 

“I can’t,” you giggled breathlessly, “I really can’t.”

“Disappointing.” Raven shook her head, grinning. “You’d think they’d be able to hold up under a bit of tickling, huh, John?”

You rolled your eyes, Murphy’s darting hands rendering you unable to do much else in your defence.

“To be honest, Raven, I’m just wondering why someone this ticklish would even engage in a prank war with me,” Murphy responded. He’d zoned in on a spot just below your ribs, and you were laughing too hard to formulate a response, your chest jerking with every touch.

“Time to let them go, they can think about their actions later,” Raven said, and finally Murphy rolled off of you, leaving you to jump, doubled over, to your feet.

“You absolute ass, John Murphy,” you breathed, shooting him a glare. He raised his eyebrows, wiggling his fingers, and you visibly cringed, making both him and Raven laugh.

“I’d think twice before crossing me again, Y/N,” he said, shoving you playfully as you headed past him to clean up. Still, both of you knew this war was far from over.

[theshelbyclan]

Family Secrets

Summary: Polly finally lets slip what the real Shelby curse is and as the youngest Shelby, with a little encouragement from John, you feel obligated to use it to your own advantage

(Gif by @mistress-gif​) A/N: I wrote this one when I couldn’t sleep, a long time ago, fuelled by my own frustration of being picked on as the youngest. This has been a headcanon of mine for ages and I finally put it to paper. I never had any intention of posting it, but because I’ve reached the 500 followers mark, I decided to share. It’s short, fluffy and a lot lighter than the actual series. Enjoy!

Words: 3220

*** 

“Give me the fucking book, John!” you bellowed through the kitchen. Your aunt was adamant that you’d all eat together, one day a week, on Sunday. These dinners were great and important, but they always ended in chaos. Tommy usually left early to get on with work, so he was never part of the sibling banter that ensued.

You had just finished eating and while Aunt Polly was busy clearing the dishes, you thought you could read a little. How wrong you were.

Holding the book out of your reach, the most annoying brother in the world was grinning broadly at you. “I will punch you in the fucking throat…” you threatened. This only made John laugh harder and he threw the book over your head towards Arthur who caught it nimbly. “How about me, little sister,” Arthur said playfully, “Are you going to cut me?” With a sigh you turned around and made another failed attempt at grabbing the book. Arthur threw the book back at John and a little game had started that you had no energy for. Still, you wanted that fucking book. “Forget the book, Y/N,” Ada commented from behind her own book, “Let them have their fun.”

But you were too stubborn for your own good, “I’ll be damned if I let them win…” which gave rise to more laughter from your brothers. So you grabbed the nearest tea towel and threw it in Arthur’s face. Before he could remove it, you pounced and actually felt the book beneath your fingers now. Polly paused her work and watched the scene with interest, partially because it was sweet, in a very Shelby manner, and partially because she wanted to put a stop to it before her kitchen got destroyed. You were so close, but Arthur grabbed you around your waist and managed to get the book back to John. Now you were well and truly stuck. “Right, what now?” he teased in a low voice. “Get the fuck off!” you screamed, when John walked over to you and dangled the book in front of you. Stretching out your arms as much as you could, you could almost reach it. But John, evil as he was, used his other hand to tickle your ribs and you immediately crumpled down in Arthur’s arms. The second brother soon joined in and now you were being attacked by two pairs of hands. You dissolved in a mess of giggles within seconds and there was nothing you could do. Sliding down onto the floor, with very little hope of rescue from your sister or aunt, you were at their mercy completely. And then, like some miracle, Ada intervened. She grabbed John by the collar and pulled him back. You gasped for breath as soon as you could. “She’s had enough, John,” Ada said sternly, “Back off, or you’re next.” Arthur looked down on you with a huge grin on his face, “Ada, we both know she can take much more than that…” “Noo!” you whined and without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you rolled away on your stomach across the kitchen until you bumped into your aunt. “Should’ve punched him in the throat,” she said softly to you. “Don’t be a baby!” John called out, “It’s your own fault.” “How the fuck is it my fault?” you replied indignantly from the floor. “For being so fucking sensitive,” John grinned. Arthur joined in, “That’s right. Just turn it off.” You rolled your eyes almost audibly. 

John scoffed and pushed Ada away, “You’re fourteen now, Y/N. Time to learn.”

Polly turned around swiftly, “Oh, like you ever did!”

“What?” your head shot up.

Ada looked at you with a smirk, “What, you thought you were the only one?”

As you got to your feet, Polly helped you up and said meaningfully, “That’s the real family curse, sweetheart.”

Years of them pinning you down and teasing you bubbled up in frustration, “Are you saying that I’ve been going through torture for all these years, thinking that it was just me, when all this time…”

Arthur shrugged, “You’re the youngest and smallest. Comes with the territory.” 

“Besides, we’re stronger,” John added smugly. He was right of course, which made it all the more annoying.

Polly threw down the washing cloth and theatrically said, “Welcome to the Shelby family, feared by all in Birmingham and where everyone is ticklish as fuck!” Your entire worldview had been altered in seconds. Apparently this wasn’t news to your siblings, because they all looked completely unimpressed by this bit of information, while you stood there with your mouth hanging open in surprise. After thinking about all of this for a while, you asked, “Even Tommy?” “When we were kids we used to make fun of him,” John recalled with a glint in his eyes, “It’s just his ribs, but if you poke him suddenly, he literally jumps.” “He went absolutely feral,” Arthur nodded. An idea was taking shape in your head, “Would that still work, you think?” “You’ll only get yourself killed,” Ada commented in her usual bored tone of voice. “Do it!” John urged, “Come Ada, you know she’ll get away with it.” You and John had always been the most mischievous in the family and you shared a look with a similar twinkle in your eyes. You finally knew something Tommy didn’t know. This was your one chance to catch Thomas Shelby by surprise. ***

For the next couple of days, you tried to get your brother alone. It was strange, because on the one hand you couldn’t wait to try out your plan. Envisioning how he would react was brilliant already, but the feeling of power you had was even greater. However, you also feared his reaction. Thomas Shelby was a busy man and he had very little time for anyone these days. When he did spend time with you, it was short and it often involved him reprimanding you. In all honesty, you were a little scared of him, but not scared enough to let a prank like this one go to waste. You’d deal with the consequences, whatever they were.

John might’ve been even more excited than you were and whenever Tommy left to go somewhere on his own, he motioned you frantically to follow him. Finding the right time proved almost impossible though. So you decided just to get on with it. This was the day you would find out if your brother shared the family curse. Unfortunately, he’d been in a bad mood all day. He’d called a family meeting at breakfast and had left quickly after that. They’d all reconvene in the evening. Dodging all your other responsibilities, you shadowed Tommy for most of the day, but he had one business meeting after the other. His mood was getting darker and darker, and you began to wonder if you were actually suicidal. But then, unexpectedly, you found yourself alone with him outside. “Y/N,” he said strictly, “Tell me what’s going on.” You’d come outside for some peace, because today was one of the busiest days at the shop and you’d had enough of the noise. Outside, you planned on reading your book and you’d forgotten about Tommy for a minute. Until he had appeared suddenly. “Nothing,” you said, looking up.

“Then why have you been following me all day, eh?” He sounded annoyed almost and all courage left you.

Improvising quickly, you said, “Missed you at dinner last Sunday.” “I was there,” he lit a cigarette and sat down next to you on the stone steps.

“For five whole minutes…”

“There was business to attend to.” “And there’s family to attend to as well,” you replied, without missing a beat. Silently, he side-eyed you and a small smirk played around his lips, “You’re right, I’ll do better next week. Am I forgiven?” “No,” you feigned anger. He turned his head towards you and he smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

The bond you had with Tommy was a complicated one. In many ways you were very similar, but the war had changed him the most. Sometimes you felt like you’d lost him completely, when you thought of how you used to talk and laugh with him when you were younger. These moments were so rare now. And these exact thoughts did the trick and you decided that you had to be the one to make that old Tommy come back, if only a little. So you said a silent prayer, decided not to overthink it and poked him in the ribs once. The effect was immediate. Thomas Shelby shot up and nearly rocketed himself off the steps. With a wild look of betrayal he turned his eyes on you and you almost burst out laughing.   “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” you asked innocently.

He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair and sat back down. Apparently, we’re pretending this never happened, you thought. 

A few seconds of awkward silence later, you poked him again. This time, a small yelp escaped him. The most feared gangster in Birmingham yelped, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing any longer. 

As you were still trying to regain composure, Tommy pointed at you with a menacing finger, “Do that again and you will not live to tell the fucking tale.” You could only snort in reply. He was trying so hard to act all scary and while that had an effect on most people, you just couldn’t be bothered right now: It was too funny. Besides, you thought you could detect just a hint of mirth behind those pale blue eyes and decided to risk everything on just that.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows, “Do it again, I fucking dare you, and see what happens.” So you did it again. 

In a flash, he was up and dove for you. But you were faster and jumped out of the way. Like the two of you were a part of a bad play, you started circling each other around the small yard. Neither said a word and seconds felt like hours. Then Arthur called from inside the house, “Tom!”

“You called a family meeting,” you reminded him, while relaxing a little at the prospect of escape.

Tommy’s eyes stayed on you and he cleared his throat again, “Fuck, alright. You’re coming with me.” And he lifted you up and threw you over one shoulder. Your shrieks filled the house as he walked through the betting den, over to the table where the family was already gathered, with you still on his shoulder. Without blinking, the leader of the Peaky Blinders announced, “Right, well you’re all here. Let’s talk business quickly…” Aunt Polly pointed vaguely at your arse, which was sticking up in the air, “You do realise you have my niece in your arms?” “Well aware, Poll,” Tommy continued, like it was the most normal thing in the world, “Business! We’ve done well this week. John’s shown me the books and we’re making more money than ever. Next week, we’re buying a new horse and I’m going to race her.” Flabbergasted, the family stared at Tommy. You could see the million questions on their faces, but they decided to wait until he was done talking. You had also refrained from protesting by now. “Poll, as treasurer I need your permission to buy the horse.” She blinked a few times and mumbled, “Buy the horse. Y/N‘s still…” Tommy held up a hand, “Not finished,” and everyone closed their mouths again, “John, I need you to talk to that old widow down the road. She’s recently lost her son and she should become part of our fund. Arthur, for fucks sake, get the books from the Garrison in order.” “It’s those bloody numbers, Tom…” Arthur grumbled in reply. “Are we all clear on what to do?” Tommy finished off in a hurry. When no one replied, he answered for them, “Good!” With this he plucked you down from his shoulder and held you in his arms bridal style. With a grave and business-like tone he announced, “As you all know, this is Y/N Shelby, youngest member of the family. While we were away in France, she kept the fort and she has often provided us with some relief in times of stress ever since we’ve come back. But not anymore.” John started to get nervous and looked from you to Tommy. Had they gone too far this time? But then he saw Arthur grinning and even Ada had a small smile on her face, so he knew Tommy was only playing. “Gentlemen,” Tommy continued, “This is the day that Y/N Shelby dies. Say goodbye to your sister.”

And that’s when you decided not to await your fate, so you made a sudden movement and jumped out of Tommy’s arms. Dashing past the table, you sought refuge behind Polly’s back. 

“Told you this would happen, Y/N,” Ada said, not helping at all.

For some reason, Polly got up and left the room, while stating triumphantly, “The secret’s out, Thomas. Deal with it.” Now you just had an empty chair for protection. Tommy pointed at you directly and practically growled, “And it’s going back in.” With three of the largest steps he was at your side once again.

So you held up your hands, “Okay, wait, I can explain.”

“Too late, little sister,” Tommy said in a low voice, “These are family secrets that are not spoken of.”

“You’re such a drama queen, Tommy,” your sister commented, while getting up to leave. And all you could think was: why would you leave me alone with these mad bastards?

You really should’ve known better but decided to go for the cocky approach, “There’s no point in trying to scare me now, Tommy, knowing what I know.” You raised your eyebrows in an attempt to show him you were still in control. You weren’t. In a flash he’d tackled you to the floor and had you pinned down, while whispering ominously, “You picked the wrong brother to fuck with, Y/N Shelby.”

And for the second time in a week, you cursed your own sensitive skin as dexterous hands attacked your sides. Incapable of little but laughing and screaming, you flailed around hopelessly. Tommy’s face was slowly softening into a smile as well.

“Tommy!” you pleaded between giggles, “It was John, not me!” “Was it now?” he taunted without stilling his fingers, “And who was the fool to listen to his ideas, eh?” He moved up to your ribs, which made the pitch of your laughter increase. “Toohoohoom! Wait!”

Now, it was no secret that your major weakness in life was your sensitivity. Usually it was John who took the most advantage of it, being the mad joker that he was, but he often got Finn or Arthur to join in. Arthur on his own could be absolutely brutal, which was due to his strength as well, so there was no hope for you at all. Ada didn’t bother much, but when she did, she was merciless, much like Polly. But Tommy, he was a whole other story. You didn’t have many moments like this with him anymore, but when he did play and did get his hands on you, it was hell. He knew exactly how to reduce you to a small heap of giggles, pleading for your life and regretting all life choices up to that point. And this was happening right now. His smile was widening and he shook his head, “You thought you could beat me, eh?” “Yeheeeheees,” you admitted. Then he stopped for a second, allowing you to breathe, “Alright, you little devil, I’ll give you one a chance to speak.”

Residual giggles were pouring from your mouth, “Never… listen… to… John.” Tommy looked up at his younger brother who was showing zero remorse on his face, and he nodded slowly, “Good. What else?” “I’ve learned that Thomas Shelby sounds like a girl when…” but you never got to finish that sentence, as he continued his assault.

“Wrong answer. And you are way to ticklish to have an attitude like that, Y/N,” he said calmly. 

As he dragged your arms up and dug his hands under your arms, you squeezed your eyes shut, “NOOOO, I’M SOOHOORYYY!” “Are you?” he asked, now smiling broadly at your reaction, “Then tell me what you’ve fucking learned from this, eh?” “YOU DON’T FUCK WITH THE PEAKY BLINDERS!” you managed to shout out between laughs. “That’s right,” Arthur commented, watching the scene while sitting back in his chair, “Finally, she gets it.” Tommy paused and looked at both of his brothers, as if he was waiting for their verdict. “Nah,” John decided to cause more trouble, “I don’t think she has…” Still struggling unsuccessfully to get out of Tommy’s grasp, you shouted, “John, shut your fucking mouth or I swear to God…” Tommy rolled his eyes and interrupted you, “Get her, boys,” he called out, “Let’s teach our sister some respect for her brothers.” So now there were three brothers trying to keep you in place, while you were being tickled from all sides. Why did you listen to John? Why did you not know better than to challenge Tommy? Spluttering, kicking and fighting like crazy, you managed to kick them a little bit at least, but the fact that they were all grinning down on you still meant that it didn’t help much. 

Tears leaking out of your eyes, you shrieked, “YOOOUAAHAHAH AHAHAHALL SUAHAHACK!”

Then Tommy stopped them and crossed his arms in front of him. The amusement was twinkling in his eyes, “Had enough?” “Yep,” you said quickly, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Whatever Polly has told you,” he widened his eyes and brought his face close to yours, “Family secrets are not spoken of.” “Fine!” you called out, “They’re not spoken of.” His smile grew again, “Remember this, Y/N. And remember this was nothing compared to what we can do and what I will do, if you ever feel the need to cross Thomas fucking Shelby again.” You got up, again, and brushed yourself off while sending a death-stare to each of your brothers. But when Tommy smiled at you, there was a certain warmth to it that you hadn’t seen in ages.

“Wankers…” you mumbled carefully. Tommy smirked slightly, “You brought this upon yourself, Y/N. Now you know what happens…” “…when you fuck with the Peaky Blinders. Bladibladibla…” you finished his sentence. Making your way to the door, you turned back for a moment, “To be fair, Tommy, I did just saw you jump up about a foot because you’re actually fucking ticklish. So much for the whole gangster act, I should say.” Tommy’s eyes narrowed, John burst out laughing and Arthur managed to shout out a quick “Oi!” And before anyone could react, you sprinted away. Somehow, this still felt like a victory. Sure, you were the youngest and probably the most sensitive in the family, but you had discovered your own weapon now. John would be next, just for setting you up. Arthur would involve more planning. But finding Tommy’s weakness, that was the real triumph. Behind you, you could hear Tommy sit down and sigh, “Well, boys, we’re well and truly fucked now…”

And you grinned to yourself. The game was on.

***

Masterlist

[pretend-writer]

Down Below (Chapter 74)

Summary: After being sent down on Earth with the other prisoners from the Ark, Y/N Reyes faces series of events and learns about survival. With new things happening around her, she is now starting a new chapter in her life.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader, John Murphy x reader, Raven Reyes x sister!reader

Word Count: 2k words

Warning: swearing

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'Wake up, John!' I giggled as I jumped on him, tickling him on his bare chest.

'Why do I have to wake up in a crack of dawn?' Murphy groaned, putting his hands over his face.

'Because, today is the day.' I smiled. It may be an overreaction and dramatic but I've been waiting for this date and alone time with him.

'Y/N, you know I said 7PM, not AM right?'

'I know, I know but I'm just too excited.' It had been a while since I felt a sense of relaxation and safety. Coming to Sanctum was doubtful at first, but turned out this might be the best decision we've ever made.

John peeked from between his fingers, smiling as he looked at me. 'That's adorable.'

'What's adorable?'

'You being happy, smiling and not having to care about anything.' He pulled me in closer, lifting his head to kiss me. 'That smile, it looks good on you.'

I cheesed even more, probably blushing a little bit also. It was nice to have someone care and love me the way John did, made me realize that these past several years were terrible. I still didn't know if I deserved all this or not but it felt good to have this in my life.

'John, I love you.' I paused, not expecting those words to come out the way it did. Murphy thought the same way, smile fading away as his facial expression changed immediately.

Embarrassed and scared, I got off of John and gathered my clothes off the floor. 'I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I mean, I do but no, no I mean I don't.'

My mind was all over the place, mostly feeling foolish after seeing John's face after I said what I had said. He got up out of bed also, trying to pull me back in. 'Y/N, just wait. Let's talk about this.'

'No, no. I think I'm good for now.' Slipping my legs through my pants, I grabbed my shirt.

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, yes. I'm good.' The whole time I faced my back towards him, I didn't want to show my face. The words I didn't mean to say at all, it just slipped out at that moment. But it didn't matter because John was surprised, his face just said it all.

This time, John reached out for my arm. I still avoided eye contact, pretending as if I was looking for my boots when I knew damn well where it was. 'I'll see you tonight at our meeting spot right?'

'Sure.' I tugged my arm, grabbed my boots and walked out before he asked me more questions that I didn't want to answer.

All good things must come to an end, I knew that especially because of my luck. I just hoped that it didn't come so soon.

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Rushing out of John's room, I ran to get a quick breakfast. Even after leaving, I felt a sense of embarrassment as if everyone knew what was going wrong and they were judging me.

'You look guilty of something.' Turning around, I noticed Bellamy sitting by himself at the table. He flashed a smile, 'You can sit here if you'd like.'

With a plate of food in my hand, I tried to figure out whether or not it was a good idea to sit with Bellamy. I was still angry about the decisions he made about Diyoza and Octavia but at the same time, maybe talking to him would've gave me a better understanding on what was really going on in his mind.

And to be completely honest, Bellamy's smile was too convincing. He was inviting, yet I knew behind his smile he was sad, angry, all the feelings I felt back when I was at the bunker. I felt guilt, perhaps I should keep him company.

'You know, if this is weird between us you don't have to force yourself.'

'Ah, I'll sit with you.' I smiled back, taking a seat across from him. 'Did you have fun last night?'

'Yeah, it was interesting. Haven't drank that much since Unity Day.'

Unity Day; it brought back so many memories. The years where me and Bellamy's friendship started, maybe around the time when I stopped hating him completely.

Bellamy saw the expression on my face, given the fact that I thought about a nice and nostalgic yet sad memory, he seemed confused. 'Are you okay?'

'Yeah, just thinking about the old days. You know, we had some good times together. We've been through a lot, but it was nice.'

He nodded, 'And I ruined everything.'

Everything was ruined, but it wasn't entirely his fault. I had my bad reasons and Bellamy had his, we've both made mistakes on our parts which lead to our broken relationship. 'It's not just you.'

'But we've tried to make peace, with everything that happened with you and that bunker. I should've just been honest with you from the start.'

'I wasn't completely honest with you either, until everything fell apart and I didn't have a choice. We both should've told each other everything the moment we saw each other again.'

'Do you really think it would've been different? If we were honest?'

'Of course I do.'

Bellamy sighed, 'But now you're with Murphy and he loved you for so long, so would it have really been different?'

I paused, thinking about the possibilities that may have had me ending up with Murphy. The truth of the matter was, I wouldn't know for sure if everything would've been different if we done things differently.

'Good morning, family.' Raven interrupted my thoughts as she skipped in, leaving a kiss on the top of my head. 'You guys aren't tearing each other's head. Must be a good sign.'

Bellamy and I made eye contact, he bit his lip and got up. 'You two have a nice morning, I'm going to go get some fresh air.'

'Okay then, see you later.' Raven watched Bellamy leave the room then quickly looked back at me. 'Why are you two acting awkward?'

'We weren't.'

'You two looked at each other before he left. I'm not dumb.'

'I never said you were.'

Raven rolled her eyes, 'Stop trying to change the topic of our conversation. What did you and Bellamy talk about?'

'What's this about Bellamy and Y/N?' Miller joined in, 'I thought you were with Murphy.'

'I am with John.' A flashback of this morning popped in my head, feeling embarrassed again. 'Well, I think we are. I don't know.'

'What? I thought you were having a date with him tonight.'

'A date? Can I come?' Clarke came out of nowhere, joining our table as well. 'Well when I mean "can I come" I mean just you and me of course.'

Raven let out a soft laugh. 'I didn't know you and Y/N became such good friends.'

Clarke puckered her lips, placing her hands on her hips. 'Well despite the recent events, I don't completely hate her.'

'And now you want a date with her?' Miller looked at her and then to me. 'And the "recent events" I recall are a whole bunch of bullshit between you two that went off for years.'

'Thing change, right?' Clarke eyed me and smirked, 'Doesn't mean everything has to stay like the way it was before.'

Gaia called for Clarke from the other side of the room, seeing as though there might be trouble with Madi. She winked with a smile on her face before she walked away.

Miller cackled, covering his mouth to make sure he wasn't too loud. 'Murphy has been a lot of things in the past but don't cheat on the dude.'

Raven joined in the laughter while I rolled my eyes. 'Planning a threesome? You know he's going to get jealous.'

'And you also have Bellamy jealousy you have to worry about too.' Miller added.

'You guys are so annoying. Besides, get your head out the gutter. There was nothing going on.'

'Uhm, nothing?' Miller shook his head. 'She was flirting so hard with you. We all saw it, don't deny it.'

Raven and Miller continued to laugh, just as John appeared from outside. He greeted both of them, then placed his hand on my shoulder. 'We're still meeting tonight right?'

Avoiding his eye contact, I nodded my head. 'I'll see you later, John.'

He squeezed my shoulder before he left, noticing that I was still dragging the event that happened earlier.

'You're feeling something with Clarke now, aren't you?' Raven chuckled.

I rolled my eyes, not wanting to tell them about how I spilled those three words to him. Acting as though nothing happened between me and Murphy, I laughed a little. 'She wishes.'

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It was nine minutes past seven. I wanted to be a tad late, not wanting to seem desperate. I couldn't lie, I was dreading to see him. I've been thinking about the first words we were going to say to each other.

Of course I loved him, I've always loved him. John had been there for me since the beginning, when my issues with my family and Marcus were at its peak.

I've never wanted to pressure nor confuse him, this was new to me and him. We've been "together" but everything pretty much ended after we were both sent to the Skybox. Besides, we were a bunch of teenagers and so young. Being with John this time around felt so different, felt real and amazing.

It was just the heat of the moment, I honestly don't know how I feel a 100% yet either. Not to mention John didn't say it back. All the feelings and emotions were overwhelming and unfamiliar, since I've hid that part of me the last six years.

After a few more minutes on contemplating on whether or not I should show my face, I decided to get up and go to the staircase where I was supposed to meet John.

To my surprise, he wasn't there yet even after I was several minutes late. Maybe he had changed his mind last minute, sparing his time for some other important things.

I've watched the sun go down, continuing to wait on John for over an hour. The outside of the palace was practically empty now since the people of sanctum started to gather with their family for dinner.

My heart started to hurt as I felt rejected from John, I was really regretting the words I said to him this morning.

'Hey, what are you doing alone in the dark?' Clarke smiled as she saw me, suddenly changing her facial expressing as tears fell from my eyes. 'Y/N, are you okay?'

'Yeah, yeah I'm fine.' Not noticing her sneaking up to me, I quickly wiped the tears away. 'Have you seen John?'

She bit her lip, looking down the village as she leaned on the railing. 'What do you see in him anyways? I think you deserve better.'

I sighed, 'If this is about you convincing me to be with Bellamy, I-'

'Bellamy?' Clarke chuckled, 'Oh no. You're so much better than these people. I don't think you realize your worth.'

It was nice that she thought that about me, I've never thought I'd hear compliments from her. 'Thanks, that means a lot.'

'John Murphy is just so weak, you know? He squirms too much, kept complaining about how he had to meet you here tonight. Then threatened to kill me if I'd ever hurt you, and I would never hurt your pretty face.'

'Squirm? What are you talking about?'

'I'm talking about us, Y/N.' She scooted closer to me, grabbing me by my hand. 'I want you to know that he's not good for you. I'll take care of you, Y/N.'

I couldn't understand where all of this was coming from. Why John would say such things to Clarke, and why Clarke was suddenly so interested in me. Nothing added up and none of this made sense.

Just as I was about to ask her a question, Clarke grabbed my cheek and pressed her lips onto mine. It took me a while to realize that Clarke was actually kissing me.

Quickly pulling away, she gazed into my eyes and breathed heavily. 'What's going on? I-I'm so confused. Why did John say those things to you?'

'Because I hurt him. Well, not me directly but my people did.'

'My people? What the hell are you talking about?'

She laughed devilishly, I've never heard Clarke laugh like this before. 'You're pretty but a little slow in the head, huh. That's really adorable though, kind of a turn on actually.'

'Clarke, Wha-'

'I'm not Clarke.' She grinned as she traced my skin with her finger, working her way up to my shoulder blades. 'She's gone.'

[finnsgrin]

Beauty and the Beast - John Murphy

John Murphy x reader

From my Wattpad: inanonacrimnalwayy

GIF: bellamysgriffin

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John Murphy

Based on S1 E10

Spoilers: S1 E10

After Murphy is found, the sickness inflicted by the Grounders spreads like wildfire around camp, the thought of losing him is too much for you.

Word Count: 5,655

Published on: July 6, 2020

TW: Blood, sickness

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♡Masterlist♡

Sleep became a rare occurrence for me.

When I did find the courage to shut off my mind, I was harassed with nightmares and plagued with horrific flashbacks that danced tirelessly behind my eyes.

I woke up every single time screaming for John to run.

It's no secret that the majority of camp hated John's guts.

But I was a different story.

Everyone in camp wanted to know me.

They wanted to know the kind girl who sang the younger fretful campers to sleep, and who always looked on the bright side no matter the circumstance.

They compared me and John to Beauty and the Beast.

"But the Beast is good inside. He just doesn't let anyone see that because when people see good, they expect good. And the Beast doesn't want to have to live up to anybody's expectations." I would always remind them.

Nobody seemed to care.

That's what angered me.

One night, while we were in our tent, I overheard several older campers badmouthing John.

I stood, hands balled into fists, eager to let off some of my steam on someone.

"Easy, babe. Don't stoop to their level." John had repeated the words I so often had to say to him when anything bothered him.

And I had to say them a lot, because everything bothers John.

I took a breath, and sat back down allowing him to massage my neck and shoulders which were tight and taut from the stresses of the day.

"They make me so angry. No one down here is innocent. We all have something that we did wrong. Why are they so quick to judge?" I lazily traced meaningless patterns on his hand which was riddled in scars and calluses.

I felt John chuckle, and he rested his chin in the crook of my neck.

"Because they're not you. They're not selfless, and kind, and forgiving. Some of them are ruthless murders."

I allowed his words to simmer in the heat of the tent.

I didn't like being called selfless.

John's just says that's another reason to call me selfless.

"I still don't like it." I pouted.

"No one says you have to like it. Now shut up and cuddle with me." John attacked me with tickles, peppering my face with kisses.

This is the side of John Murphy that no one else sees.

And that was the last night I had with John Murphy.

The morning brought uncertainty.

I could feel it in the air.

I've always been an anxious person, but John does his best to keep it at bay.

"What else could go wrong? We're miles away from home which isn't even on the planet, surrounded by crazy tree people who are hell bent on killing us all, and we're probably all gonna die before the snow falls."

I know his words were meant for comfort, but they always freaked me out even more.

I woke up, sorry - I mean I was trampled awake by a group of two dozen people who thrust their hands into the opening of our pathetic excuse of a tent.

I screamed as people grabbed my hair and scratched my arms.

What the hell was going on?

Were we being ambushed by Grounders?

"Murphy!"

"John Murphy!"

"Murphy, come out!"

Now I knew these were our people.

Why would Grounders be specifically after the most hated boy in our camp?

How would they even know his name?

We didn't even know if they spoke English.

"John, John, help me!"

My chest grew tight, and my legs felt like jelly, which was something that always happened to me before a panic attack.

"Hey, keep your hands off of her!" I saw John's fist come into contact with a boys face.

He was then physically dragged out of of camp, with me hot on their trail, slightly disoriented from what had just happened.

I spun around, frantic for the sight of someone, anyone who wasn't engrossed by the mosh pit with John in the center of it all.

"Harper, what's going on?" I found my good friend Harper, and clutched her arm.

She shook me free, disgust prominent on her face.

"Why don't you ask your boyfriend the killer? Wells was found dead this morning, and Murphy's knife was next to him."

What?

"Th-that's crazy! John did not kill Wells!"

"It sure looks like it!"

I wasn't about to argue furthermore with Harper. I needed to see Bellamy.

I found him in the mob, and yanked him free.

"Bellamy, this is crazy! Murphy didn't kill Wells! He couldn't have! He was by my side the entire night!" My words came out fast and jumbled.

"(Y/N), I know it's hard to comprehend, but Murphy killed Wells." Bellamy spoke to me in a calm manner.

"Bullshit! Harper said the knife was found near Wells? That wasn't Murphy! Even if he DID ever kill someone, he wouldn't be that sloppy. Please, Bellamy! You have to believe me!" Angry tears rolled down my face and panic grew.

"Bellamy! What do you want us to do with him?" Finn called over, stepping back and revealing a severely beaten Murphy who was now bound by the wrists and ankles, and gagged.

Bellamy took a final look at me. Once final glance at the broken girl who was on the cusp of a breakdown.

"String him up." Bellamy boomed, nodding to a large oak tree which housed thick and sturdy branches, a noose already tied securely around it.

They say adrenaline makes everything move quicker.

You run faster, you think faster, you act faster...

There must be something wrong with me, because I move in slow motion.

It's like when you're dreaming.

When you're dreaming and you're running away from a monster and it feels like your legs have been submerged in molasses. You scream at your legs to move faster, but they don't.

Everything was in slow motion.

I could see a struggling John being stood by an overturned bucket, using all of his strength to break free.

Chants and screams of those around us beckoning on his death.

Twigs snapping and dirt flying from beneath my bare feet as I sprinted towards John.

The cries out of my mouth, and the final gasp of breath when the bucket was overturned.

"No! No! Please! It wasn't him!" I shoved away bystanders, just inches away from the boy who I loved.

The boy on the drop ship who squeezed my hand telling me it was going to be alright.

The boy in the forest who picked flowers for me and presented them with a dopey smile.

The boy in the tent who held me close our first nights on the ground after Jaspers attack.

The boy who was now dangling from a tree, his hands working relentlessly to loosen the pull of the rope.

Someone was holding me back, and I clawed at their hands. But that just added another person, and another...

I fought and screamed and cried against the arms that held me back.

Feet were stomped on, wrists bitten, fingers bent back...

But they didn't let go.

His face was now purple, eyes bulging and red.

"It was me! It was me, okay!" A small voice screamed from the hill to my right.

There stood Charlotte, a twelve year old girl with blonde hair that was in two braids.

I heard she had been sent to the ground after attacking the guards that floated her parents.

"I killed Wells! Not Murphy!"

As her words were being registered, the arms and hands that were holding me hostage, loosened, and I lunged toward John, who was now limp.

"Cut him down! Somebody, please!" I begged as I jumped in the air in a pathetic attempt to reach him.

"Cut him down!" Bellamy ordered.

His body feel to the ground with a thud, and I shook his shoulders.

"John, please wake up!" I sobbed.

He gasped, sitting up and yanking the rope off of his neck.

"It's okay, you're okay. You're safe now." I engulfed him in a hug as he trembled beneath my touch.

All eyes were now on Charlotte, who had Bellamy next to her, crouched down so he could be at eye level with her.

She honestly couldn't have been bigger than a dog. A tiny thing, she was.

Did she really kill Wells? Or was that just a desperate ploy to save John's life?

"Charolette, what are you talking about?" Bellamy asked in disbelief.

Fear in her eyes made her seem even more vulnerable than she already was.

"You told me to slay my demons, Bellamy. Jaha killed my parents, and I can't get to Jaha, so I killed his son."

Everyone went quiet.

"Charlotte that's not what I meant. You KNOW that's not what I meant." Bellamy grabbed the young girl by her shoulders and shook her.

She nodded, tears falling to the ground.

"Well I say we kill the little bitch the same way you tried to kill me." John was now on his feet, angry marks on his neck bleeding and raised, crimson red and berry purple...

Agreement stirred amongst the crowd, and Bellamy stood in front of the girl.

"John, she's just a child." I reminded him softly, reaching out and touching is arm. Surely he had more sense than this.

"Pick, (Y/N). Me, or the kid?" He rasped.

I stuttered, words failing.

His eyes were cold.

"Just as I suspected. Maybe they got that part wrong. Maybe you're the Beast," He shoved me away, the rope still in his hands.

"Who's with me?!" Several people raised their fists and shouted in agreement.

"She could have killed any one of us, and the blame could have been on you, or you!" He thrusted his index finger toward people at random in the crowd.

"Nobody is dying today!" Bellamy hollered, Charolette still cowering behind him.

John flung the rope to the ground.

"A little to late for that, Bellamy. Why not her, next? She killed one of our people!"

No one could argue against that.

John lunged forward, and Bellamy held his arms out protectively.

After that, it was a madhouse.

People rushing from our side to Bellamy's to protect the little girl, and people joining John.

I was shoved from behind, and everything went black.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

"John! Run!"

I'm in a small tent, yet I still throw the blankets about, searching for him.

The first few days after his banishment, I convinced myself it was all a bad dream.

I wish it was.

Now over two weeks had passed and I still woke up screaming.

I made my bed, picking up John's sweatshirt as I did so, and inhaled his scent.

How long did I have until it faded?

There was a rap on the flimsy material of the tent, and Harper appeared, smiling.

"(Y/N), breakfast."

I turned away, my arms crossed and bottom lip jutted out like I was a four year old losing an argument.

She sighed, leaving a small bowl of berries next to the entrance of the shelter, and left.

After Clarke and Bellamy were the only ones to return from the woods, I cut everyone else off.

I didn't talk to anyone, let alone acknowledge their existence.

I still helped around, but that was for my sake. They would banish me, too if I wasn't of any use.

I fell into a rut the day John left.

His final words to me played like a broken record.

"Maybe you're the beast."

Wake up.

"Maybe you're the beast."

Make my bed.

"Maybe you're the beast."

Have breakfast.

"Maybe you're the beast."

Work.

"Maybe you're the beast."

Break time.

"Maybe you're the beast."

More work.

"Maybe you're the beast."

Dinner.

"Maybe you're the beast."

Bed time.

"Maybe you're the beast."

Repeat.

Maybe I was the beast.

Was I really as selfless as people made me out to be?

No, I was being smart. No one knows what happened to John, or if he was even still alive.

But what would John have done if the situation were reversed?

He would have gone after me, no questions asked.

I hated myself for the fact.

I had become the bitter girl.

I no longer sang the little ones to sleep.

I no longer offered hugs or advice.

I sat on a log, skinning squirrels and rabbits, staring blankly ahead as the day progressed.

Forgiveness had always been my thing.

Not anymore.

Bellamy had tried on more than one occasion to apologize to me, as did Clarke, and everyone else who took part in the hanging of John Murphy.

And every time, I told them to stick it where the sun don't shine.

"You have to talk to us eventually." Octavia approached me, knife in hand.

Silence.

"You can't keep ignoring us forever."

You wanna bet?

"(Y/N), I-."

"What? If I don't speak, you gonna string me up too? Like you did to John?"

I blinked away tears.

"We didn't know. We thought-."

"There's the thing, Octavia. You DID know. You knew John was innocent. You just wanted someone to pin it on." I interrupted her once more, tears breaking through the dam behind my eyelids.

The unmistakable bang of a gunshot made everyone jump. We all turned our heads to the source of the sound. Nate Miller was on guard, and he shot once more.

"Hold it!" Octavia yelled, running to Nate, me hot on her trail.

"Is it a Grounder?" Octavia asked Miller.

He blinked several times.

"I-I don't know. I just saw movement, and-."

"You could have just shot one of our people! I need a team with me. Let's move out."

Octavia grabbed a gun, and someone opened the gate.

I tagged along, not even caring if it was a Grounder.

What did I have to lose?

We jogged through the forest, eyes wide and alert.

Nothing.

No sound or movement of any kind. Whatever animals that had been around here were probably chased away by Miller's shot.

"Octavia, up there." Someone pointed in the distance to someone laying on the ground, unmoving.

I lurched forward, ignoring the hisses and orders of  "Get back here!"

Really, what did I have to lose?

John was gone.

He called me a beast.

I picked Charolette over him.

Maybe what I deserved was a Grounder killing me.

That would be less painful than what I dealt with each day.

But it wasn't a Grounder.

Through caked mud, dried blood, and cracked leaves and debris, I could still make out the broken boy who was indeed John Murphy.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

"Clarke! We need Clarke!" Octavia screamed as several boys hauled John back to camp.

Was this a nightmare, too?

"What's going on?" Clarke jogged to Octavia's side, and glanced at me.

Clarke frowned, and grabbed my face.

Her hands felt hot.

I felt like I couldn't breath.

"She's in shock. Octavia what-."

"It's Murphy. He's alive. We found him outside of camp." Octavia panted.

The blonde girls attention turned to Murphy, who was now half conscious and confused.

"Bring him into the drop ship." Clarke ordered.

I began to follow, but my knees gave out and I collapsed.

Bellamy barely caught me by my elbows, and lead me to a makeshift chair where he called over Monty and Jasper to keep an eye on me.

Part of me wanted so badly to be with John. To ask him where he had been, what had happened...

Finally, Clarke emerged from the drop ship, hands stained a blood red, brows furrowed.

I jumped up so fast I nearly fell down again.

"What's going on? Is he okay?" My throat was tight and it burned to speak.

Clarke bit her lip, silent.

"Is he-."

"He's alive, but he's not in good shape." She answered, a hundred pound weight was lifted off my chest.

"What happened?" Jasper stood with me, unaware of the current situation.

Clarke hesitated, something she hardly ever did.

"A few days after we banished him, Murphy had been with the Grounders. He told them everything about our camp, and...they just let him go."

Monty scowled.

"Yeah, right. Murphy's always been a liar. He'll say anything to-."

"His fingernails have been ripped off, Monty. He was tortured. He's not lying."

Silence fell over us, and a wounded animal sound escaped my lips.

Clarke turned to me, harshly rubbing her hands on her pants in an attempt to scrub off the blood.

"He's asking for you, (Y/N). Don't be surprised when you go in there and see him chained up."

I had left before she had even finished her sentence.

John was alive... John was alive, and he wanted to see me.

I tripped over the threshold at the entrance, but that didn't slow me down.

He was indeed chained.

His wrists were bound with shiny handcuffs to a thick pole.

I lunged towards him, dropping on my hands and knees, taking his filthy face in my hands.

"John, oh, John, you're alive!" I exclaimed, tears sprouting in my eyes.

He smirked the same smirk I had grown to love, and the chains rattled as he tried to move his hands to wipe away my tears.

"It's okay. Let's clean you up." I stood, Bellamy's eyes focused on the two of us.

Of course, there had to be an armed guard.

"You could at least lower the gun." I seethed.

He didn't.

I had retrieved a wet cloth, and a cup of water to bring back to John.

He drank thirstily as I held the cup to his lips.

He gasped, exasperated by the little movement he had made.

I took the cloth, and began dabbing away the dirt that was caked onto his forehead. Some of it mixed with blood, and it looked painful.

He winced, and coughed.

"Sorry. I'm trying to be as gentle as I can." I apologized, pressing softer on the spots that appeared to be more tender.

"(Y/N)-."

"Hush, now. It's okay. Save your breath. We can talk later."

He relaxed a bit as I cleaned his face, humming as I did so.

Although my touch was gentle, he reacted otherwise, flinching away every time the wet cloth was brought to his face.

Unbeknownst to me, my eyes wandered aimlessly to his hands which were cracked, bleeding, and caked with dried tree sap, and dirt. My stomach did a flip as I realized Clarke was telling the truth. His fingernails were gone.

My throat grew tight, and I struggled to swallow the lump that had formed.

He was tortured.

He was really tortured.

"(Y/N)..." He spoke my name, his voice raspy, and his shackled hands reached up to my face once more, and I allowed him to wipe away the falling tears which had began to stream down my face again.

We didn't speak after that. Although I was positive that the salt was entering his wounds, hurting him furthermore, he wiped every single tear away as I dabbed at his face.

I took deep breaths, willing myself to calm down.

It's okay, (Y/N). Focus on one thing at a time.

Nearly all of the blood and grime had been washed away from his face, when John gasped and cupped his hand over his throat, sputtering and frantically flailing his arms about as if oxygen had suddenly refused to enter his lungs.

I don't even have time to turn my head before thick, hot blood was spewed into my face along with an array of the food that had been keeping John alive these past few weeks.

I heard Bellamy curse, and he dropped his loaded gun to the floor, sprinting out of the drop ship, screaming for Clarke as he did so.

John was on his side now, his face in a puddle of his own bloody vomit.

I struggled to keep down my meager breakfast.

Clarke rushed in, her cheeks alive with a red rouge.

She inched past me and kneeled down next to John, who was just beginning to catch his breath.

Clarke's hands were steady as she checked his pulse. She frowned, and then felt his forehead with the back of her hand.

She jerked away like his skin was as hot as a flame.

"What's happening to me?" John sniffed, blood now protruding from his terrified eyes.

The color in Clarke's cheeks was gone now, and she turned to both Bellamy and I.

"What is it? What's wrong with him?" Even Bellamy struggled to remain composed.

Clarke blinked a few times, debating if whether or not we should know.

"Clarke!" Bellamy's voice was full of worry.

The blonde girl shook her head, and gathered her senses.

"It's biological warfare. The Grounders infected him when they held him hostage. They knew he would come back, and they knew we would take him in. We don't have the genes to fight it off. They're trying to kill us."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Two different sections had been set up in the drop ship, now.

The lower level is where the sick and dying lay on stained blankets, and cold metal. The upper floor held both those who were showing symptoms, or those who had been around anyone who was already infected.

Clarke urged me to seek refuge in the upper level, where the coughs and groans and hacking of the lungs were suppressed by the thick metal trapdoor.

I bluntly refused, explaining that I was the first one to even touch John, and I was likely already infected. It wouldn't make sense to hole me up with people who possibly weren't even sick.

She halfheartedly agreed, only to the advantage that an extra pair of hands was helping. And God knows she needed them.

Whatever this was, it was spreading, and it was spreading fast.

Within the hour, twenty other cases were diagnosed by Clarke, and she, Bellamy, and I worked feverishly to get everything situated and keep everyone comfortable.

I had possibly seen more blood now than I had even seen back on The Ark when our class went on a field trip to Medbay, where we were given a tour of the blood bank, and explained to how transfusions worked.

At first, I attempted to tiptoe around the stringy vomit and clotted blood, but gave up when Clarke informed me that my shoes would protect my feet from contact.

Out of all of those who were afflicted, John was passed the most by the reluctant volunteers who wiped away blood and tears, and handed out cups of water.

My feet sloshed in stale vomit with a pungent smell as I witnessed John begin to convulse with shivers from fever.

The once wet compress that had been laid across his forehead, was now warm, and served no purpose. If anything, it was trapping the fever inside of him.

I removed the cloth, and dipped it in a nearby bucket of water that had been dispersed throughout the room for purposes such as this.

His teeth chattered violently.

"(Y-Y/N)." John's chest heaved with unfinished breaths, and I wiped the overgrown bangs away from his face.

"It's okay. Just rest." I hushed him.

If it were even possible, his skin blazed hotter than before, and his eyes grew dark.

"You haven't let me s-say a damn word every s-since I got h-here." His attempt to come across as angry and menacing was lost in a fit of dry coughs.

I helped him sit up, and rested his head so it was laying on my chest.

Once he had managed to catch his breath, I made him drink a few sips of water.

"You've spoken enough. You need to rest." I laid him back down, removing my sweatshirt and propping up his head with it so he could breath a bit easier.

He reached out for my hand, and I grabbed his fingertips, forgetting the absence of his nails.

He yelped, and pulled away instinctively.

I took his hand more gently this time, and traced meaningless patterns on the rough skin.

"They t-tortured m-me, y'know?" His eyes found mine.

Another flip in my stomach.

"I know." I whispered, my voice barley audible to myself.

John closed his eyes, his shoulders relaxing a little as he came to the realization that I wasn't going to hurt him.

"They beat me, and b-burned me, and tore off my nails, and cut me-."

"John, stop." I interrupted, feeling guilty the moment I did so.

If it helped him to talk about it, why stop him?

"But none of that compared to the torture it was of being w-without you," His eyes opened once more as he continued, and I saw something I thought I would never see again.

The John Murphy that I know and love.

"Th-they kept asking me for your name. I was so afraid they were going to h-hurt you, (Y/N). I told th-them they could know everything e-else, but not you."

His words were both comforting, and painful at the same time.

John cared about me this whole time? This entire time he was away?

And even though John cared for me, and I for him, how much time did he have left?

I suddenly wished he didn't confide in me. It would be easier to move on with his death thinking that he hated me.

And death was inevitable.

Two people had died already, after the fever basically melted them from the inside out.

Their deaths were bloody and violent, accompanied with choking and tears.

No one, not even Clarke had hope for them. The best we could do was hold their hand and whisper "May we meet again." as they took their final breath.

My fingers had ceased to move across his skin, and both my mind and my mouth struggled to find the right words.

"I thought you hated me." Was the best I was able to come up with in the heat of the moment.

John's sarcastic scoff was accompanied with saliva and blood which dribbled down his chin. He raised his hand weakly to wipe it away.

"Did the B-Beast ever stop loving the Beauty?" He asked me, voice low, and words slurred. Fatigue seemed overcome him, and he fought to remain conscious.

I blanked, my mind combing through the story I had grown up on. What had the Beauty done to the Beast? Sure, he was angry for whatever she had done, but did he ever really stop loving her?

"To put it simply, no. He was just... angry. He didn't mean anything he said." I whispered.

John yawned, and his lips curled up a bit into a half smile.

"And the Beauty forgave the Beast. No matter how much of a douchebag he was to her. Just proving how amazing she is." John smirked weakly.

"Rest, now." My hands became slick with perspiration as I pushed away the hair from his forehead which began to stick.

There was a song that went with the story, and I began to hum it as John's eyes closed, and sleep overcame his battered body.

Reality settled over me like a thick and heavy blanket, and I realized how awful the atmosphere was inside.

How long I had been tending to the sick, I don't know. But I did know that I needed to get some fresh air before I completely lost my mind. The enclosed space and the oder of the blood and vomit made me feel nauseated.

I tiptoed over bodies and cups of water to the opening of the drop ship, and stepped outside.

Twilight was fast approaching, and the few people who were experiencing no symptoms at all sat huddled together by the fire speaking in hushed voices.

"Hey, wanna hear a joke?"

Jasper Jordan stood a good ten feet away from me, his hand holding the leg of a rabbit which he ravenously consumed.

I weakly smiled, grateful for the shred of positivity the boy had the offer.

"Sure, why not?" I grinned.

Jasper smirked, and spoke through a mouthful of food.

"So a sick Grounder walks into a hospital and says-."

Jaspers eyes suddenly widened, and he stumbled back, tripping over a stick, dropping his food onto the soil as his hands instinctively brace himself.

I placed my hands on my hips, waiting for the punchline.

"Well?" I tapped my foot impatiently. A joke shouldn't take this long to tell, and I had to get back to the sick.

"Your-your eyes. They're bleeding." Jaspers voice was high pitched, and he continued to back away until his body hit the fence.

I scowled, not in the mood for a prank.

"Jasper, that's not funny. There are people in there who are-."

My voice came to a halt when I reached up to my eyes to prove there was no blood, but was met with it.

It coated my fingers and dripped onto a rock.

I screamed, backing away from Jasper, and my back hit the drop ship.

I sunk to the ground, my hands feverishly wiping the blood from my eyes which were now mixed with tears, creating the effect of more blood than there was.

Bellamy ran out of the drop ship, machine gun in hand, his eyes frantic for the sight of whatever he thought was in camp.

The last thing I remember is his brown eyes meeting mine, and his lips forming an incoherent sentence which I failed to hear as everything went black.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Something weighed heavy on my chest. I remember, once, when I was younger and recovering from pneumonia, a doctor had stacked a few books on my chest and made me breathe with them on me. He said the point was to strengthen my lungs and my breathing, but it only added anxiety and claustrophobia.

It was like I couldn't move, and I was grateful when someone turned my head to the side for me where I noisily began to vomit.

I could taste the blood, but there was no food to come up. Just acidic bile. It burned my throat and I cried out.

"It's okay. I'm right here." A familiar voice sounded far away, and everything moved in slow motion.

"John?" I think I spoke between the firs of coughing.

I was dizzy, but a hand made me sit up and drink some water which I immediately threw up.

My vision was blurry, but I could make out what was around me.

John looked so much better. It was like he was never even sick. His cheeks were still a bit pale, but he was sitting up, and sweat wasn't dumping from his pores anymore.

Less than a half dozen people lay around me on worn out seat cushions and soiled sheets of cloth. Bellamy Blake was to my right, and Octavia was helping him drink some water.

"Wh-." My questions were cut short as John shushed me and held me close to his chest.

Tears fell from his eyes and landed on the top of my head.

"Why are you crying?" It hurt to speak, and I wondered how long I had been unconscious.

He didn't speak right then, but held me tighter.

"I thought I lost you. I heard you scream and then I saw Bellamy carried you inside. I thought you were dead." His voice turned quiet as he spoke the last sentence, and it was my turn to comfort him.

"But I'm here. You're here. And we're okay." I rubbed his arm soothingly.

He helped me lay back down, the simple act of even being propped up exhausted me.

As he situated himself next to me, I noticed those who were sick not only five minutes ago up and about.

John noticed my frown, and he pushed a strand of loose hair behind my ear.

"What?" He questioned, mimicking my frown.

"How-how long was I asleep?" I asked.

He sighed.

"Almost a day. Clarke thinks this is just a 24 hour thing. Once you've had it, you can't get it anymore."

It made sense. Some of the sicknesses on The Ark were similar to the 24 hour period.

The wool blanket over me offered little warmth, and I shivered.

John held me closer, and made it to where my head was laying on his chest.

"You cold?" He asked me, already worming his way out of his jacket.

He laid it on top of me, and a fresh set of tears pooled in my eyes.

"What's the matter? Where do you hurt?" Murphy's eyes darted to Clarke for assistance, who also lay shivering on the floor of the drop ship.

"It smells like you." I whispered, my words weighing foolish and pathetic.

I could feel his head cock to the side on confusion.

"I used to sleep with your sweatshirt in the tent. I was worried that the scent of you would fade too soon, and I would have nothing left to hold on to."

It really did hurt to talk, and the fact that a lump was forming in my sandpaper dry throat didn't help matters.

John's strong hands took mine and forced me to look him in the eyes.

"But I'm here, now," He said firmly.

I nodded, crushing myself up against him, afraid that he would disappear into thin air.

He stroked my hair, and I listened to the comforting and familiar beat of his heart.

"I'm here."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

♡Masterlist♡

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[tintentrinkerin]

Harness & Spears

Chapter 5: Father’s Eyes

missed a chapter? Check out my Masterlist or AO3

Researching for a case a year after they quit first feels weird to Sam, he has to get used to all the programs, his usual agenda. Today it’s so much easier with some computer skills. No more libraries, no more grainy scans of articles in local papers. Today, you just have to open a search engine app on your phone or a computer and you will be able to find dozens of cases in an hour or two. Of course, there’s still the work of sorting the wheat from the chaff, but Jack is a big help. They sit in the library together and go search for cases. Cas is really sweet to them, just like a butler he offers hot beverages and sandwiches, even though Sam must really hold him back to go full on “Yes, sir”. They want a case, and there are hundreds of them, but also, after Jack became God he brought all the hunters back that Chuck had banished. Donna and Jody, a couple now, as they announced just months after Jack’s ascend, and her girls, all in the hunter business. They heard from Eileen sporadically, but after all that happened and how uneasy Sam felt about the whole manipulation (and he was absolutely certain Chuck pulled the strings there, even though, when they originally met, Sam was drawn to her - but nothing more), she kept her distance and operated in Ireland and also all over Europe. The hunters from the other universe also just hunted in small groups. Charlie and her girlfriend retired for good. And Sam was still bitter about his own behaviour - projecting ‘his’ Charlie on this woman, who was so much different. He knew she hacked some computers every now and then to prank some potential Dicks. Sam was connected to the hunters, most of them. He has been clear about him and Dean, Cas (and later Jack) not going hunting anymore. But now things changed and Sam needed to check if any other hunters were on the cases him and Jack might find interesting. Running in another couple of hunting buddies is not a problem on a personal level, but the mutual sabotage will happen. It’s Murphy’s Law. That’s why Sam has a plan. They will take cases other hunters wouldn’t like to do. There are several reasons for hunting in the first place and reasons which cases to pursue and which not. Let noble monster hunting and cleansing the world be some hunter’s motivation, revenge, the thrill (some people really were that sick and hunted monsters for the kicks) and of course. The money. Oh yes, the money. But the Winchester conglomerate doesn’t worry about money, that’s why Sam won’t look for cases that have to do with wealthy people or towns announcing rewards. Also, when he knew the kind of monster and that a lot of hunters were after these creatures for killing their kin or loved ones, he better didn’t interfere. You could hunt monsters for their venom or psychic abilities, their blessings or whatever. Something a friend of Dean did not so long ago and got himself killed for it.

It shouldn’t be anything exotic, the New Age brought new monsters, at least that’s what Jack says.

“I was God, yes, and I knew everything that Chuck knew, but believe it or not, not even Chuck knew all of his creatures. His mind is packed with the stuff he wanted to do or not to do - if you ask me he was a little like George R. R. Martin. Got lost in his own massive universe and all the detail. I tried to give all of it structure, that’s why some things on Earth changed, but after some time I thought my head would explode and I uh, outsourced some good stuff in new universes. Amara is way better in doing all of that, she created way more universes and new forms of life as I did. She and her brother - don’t get me started.”

Jack looks exhausted. “Does it sound weird, Sam? That I wanted to be down here with you, all of you, but especially you, and give Amara all that power?”

Sam smiles about Jack’s outbreak and that he obviously read Game of Thrones. “No, it’s not weird. You were with Amara and I bet she’s very pleasant company but she wasn’t what you longed for. You didn’t want to be God who’s in every drop of rain, and all that. It was noble and pure hearted and generous of you to try, but you were allowed to fail. But, speaking of Game of Thrones, I have a few questions regarding--”

Sam is rudely interrupted in his chatter with Jack when Dean comes into the library and sits down two chairs away from Jack. Jack immediately gets up.

“Uh, Sam, I will -errm, go pack my bags. I think you will find a good case.”

Sam sighs.

“I’ll be with you soon, baby. Just gimme a minute.”

Jack is quick as a flash and out of sight within seconds.

Dean scoffs while thudding his mug on the table. Coffee pours out and stains the wood.

“Easy on the furniture Dean, it’s not your enemy”, Sam says without looking up. He can’t show Dean his face right now or he will just erupt. He feels the heat in his cheeks and a hot tickle up his neck. Since Dean threw a mug after Sam yesterday they haven’t seen each other and to be frank, Sam could totally renounce any other encounter with Dean for a while. Plus, Sam has a hickey, because Jack went a little passionate, clingy and possessive last night, for whatever reason.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you and… baby. ” The last word is like venom. As always. Dean wants to start another fight.

“I remember that I heard you calling Cas ‘daddy’ multiple times. You think that was really soothing for my wild imagination?”

“You call Jack what he is. A baby.”

“Another word, Dean, and you know I’ll knock you out. I have enough of your bullshit. You act like a jealous housewife. No, wait, more like a cuck!”

Dean scoffs and leaves.

“Do whatever you want, but don’t do it when I’m around or I’ll tear him apart.”

Sam sits here in shock. He has heard a lot from Dean about Jack, he has always been nasty to him and yes, even threatened to kill him twice, even was willing to execute him as part of Chuck’s evil plan. Yes, he was bitter about Mary and hell, how bitter Dean has been as Jack brought so many people back. All the ‘others’: Bobby and Charlie with her girlfriend. All these people. He brought Eileen back, and Dean thought it was to make Sam happy (and yes, that has been Jack’s intention, but ultimately it didn’t) and he was resistant to the arguments, that Mary was happy with John, she didn’t want to go back in this world she never felt like she fit in. He couldn’t be comforted by the messages Jack as a medium brought to Dean, that Mary loved him no matter what and that she will be happy when they meet again. Nothing could’ve soothed Dean’s aching. Sam understands that he’s hurt, but now, it just feels like Dean is angry at Jack for simply existing and then being so bold to love Sam.

Jack brought Cas back for Dean. He had risked a feud with the Empty that could only be avoided by Amara and Jack forcefully put the Regent of the Empty asleep. The Empty wasn’t sealed though, Rowena still reigned in hell, and still demons went to the Empty. But there are no angels on Earth anymore, Jack has naphil powers and even Cas regained some faint strength back, but Jack didn’t make new angels.

Jack really built a world in which it was possible for Dean and Cas to be together, he risked being invaded and maybe killed, since no one knows how really powerful the Empty was.

Why is nothing Jack does, no matter how universe shattering, unbelievably cosmic and holy and insane it is, not finally letting Dean the old grudge go?

It seems like everything he does just makes it worse.

Sam hides his face and in the safety of his own palms he allows to cry in fear for his own spiteful brother and soulmate. This will end badly if they don’t find a way to reconcile.

“You have to stop that, Dean” Cas says when Dean is back in the Deancave.

Cas is in his robe, nothing beneath. He looks pale and a little skinny. The last weeks have been hard on him and Dean knows it’s his fault. He makes his angel boyfriend sick. And yet he’s sick himself, and he’s kicking and fighting, with talons and teeth, words and throwing things after his brother. Also, he erupts the second Cas dares to mention it.

“Stop with what?”, he asks.

He picks the remote and wants to turn on the TV, loud metal music blasting but with a snap of a finger, the TV silent and it won’t turn back on.

“Castiel. Don’t fuck with me, I swear, I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re ‘not in the mood’ for weeks, maybe months. Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? Why won’t you let me help?”

Dean’s eyes narrow dangerously as he faces the seraph.

“Help? How could you help? My brother fucks a toddler.”

Cas sighs and it sounds so endlessly sad. Defeated. Dean doesn’t want to see it, acknowledge it, that he is indeed very wrong. Jack is no toddler, Jack is no brat, Jack is so mighty he could really smite the whole bunker with a hiccup still, even though he’s not God anymore. Dean should be so damn careful. Dean should see how much Jack begs for his forgiveness and his approval.

But Dean can’t. And Dean won’t.

“Dean.”

Dean is so full of sorrow and fear, it hurts to hear his own name so gentle, so loving yet somehow fatherly. Cas loves him and Dean should be happy. He has been happy. The Empty had taken him away and Jack had fought to get him back. So they could be a family.

But this isn’t family to Dean. He’s around the person he loves the most, the person he loves with a burning, blinding insanity. He will never be happy like this.

Cas dares to come closer, around two steps away, offers Dean a hand. Dean can’t even look at him but he takes Cas’s hand and then pulls him in a desperate embrace.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, Cas. I don’t want to fight with you.”

It’s been a while, actually the last time Dean slept with Cas was the night when Jack asked him if Sam gay. This question is carved under his skin and if you look closely, you can see them shine through like thin red scars.

The streak won’t break today either.

“Will he ever stop hating me?”, Jack asks.

He has his suitcase packed, same as a backpack with snacks, water, headphones, his teddy Marvelous Marvin, a powerbank and, something he’s very proud of - his own angel blade. The only angels on earth are Jack and Castiel but the blade kills monsters just as well. He kneads the bundle of the purple blanket in his lap when he looks up to Sam.

Sam’s still tense from before, his eyes red and narrow, Sam must look like he didn’t sleep much or has been on a bender.

“I don’t know… I wish I knew what’s wrong with him.”

With a deep sigh Sam sinks beside Jack on the mattress. The bed creaks and a spring nudges in Sam’s butt cheek. Either they need a new mattress or they move in a room together, but Sam doesn’t dare to talk about these things yet. So far, he’s happy about the privacy. But he’s also constantly longing for Jack - a stalemate.

Jack leans against Sam’s shoulder and shyly feels for Sam’s hand. Sam is too glad to take it, intertwine their fingers and kiss Jack’s knuckles.

“It makes me sick, Sam. I’m afraid all the time he’s around. I’m afraid he might want to…”

“Hurt you?”

Jack nods, his lips a thin line.

“I won’t let him. And most of all, you won’t let him. Right?”

Another silent nod.

“Don’t worry about it now, our bags are packed and I found a case. I told you about the parameters I used to find a case no one else would investigate, and this one here is especially weird, but not weird enough for us to follow, and a bit boring, but not boring enough for us to NOT follow it. We’ve been to haunted houses before, right?”

“Yes, it’s mostly vengeful spirits or poltergeists, right?”

Sam nods. “Yes, exactly. Sometimes triggered by the plans of tearing the house down, the same can happen with big bodies of water, when they are threatened to be dried out, spirits of people who drowned will start going on a rampage. Haunted houses are like level 1 of every hunter. Rocksalt, shotgun, holy water, fire. Boom, ghost gone.”

Jack frowns a little. “Really, we’re going on a case that any newbie hunter could solve?”

Sam chuckles.

“Yep.”

It’s absolutely a thinly veiled reason to go on a hunt, but it’s the same that Dean and Cas did weeks ago when Jack sneaked out. In the end they also ‘just’ took on a vampire nest with five vamps and their Creator and the rest of the time they had a blast in Vegas, why should Sam not do the same? He wants to be alone with Jack, because Dean definitely ruined the pleasant experience of the tantra massage. Sam had been so happy back then and oh, crap, he was close to do more to Jack than just the massage. He wouldn’t have slept with him on this massage table, that was utterly uncomfortable, but he had been turned on so bad, that didn’t happen very often.

Sam really falls for Jack deeply and seriously. It’s a wonderful and frightening feeling at the same time.

Jack slides on Sam’s lap and straddles him, arms tight around his neck. Jack squints a little when he’s so close, his big blue eyes will never cease to amaze Sam.

“How can you not be Castiel’s son?”, Sam blurts, his hands cupping the naphil’s face and brushing away some strands of hair.

Jack’s mouth opens slightly, his tongue sneaks out to lick his upper lip.

“I am Castiel’s son.”

“I know, I just mean, genetically. You have his eyes. Does that sound stupid, baby?”

Jack shakes his head with a grin, his neck and face turn tenderly pink.

How did the biggest monster of all create this perfect boy?

“No, not stupid. I like the way you look at me”, Jack silently admits and the blush turns berry red.

“How do I look at you?”

Sam kisses Jack’s parted lips, feels the hitched breath and how Jack tightens up his back.

“First you looked at me with fear, when I was born. Then you looked at me in sympathy, in worry… Then gentle, loving. Just now, longing… You see a man, not a child, right? That’s the look in your face how you look at someone beautiful you want to be with…?”

Sam’s big hands creep under Jack’s pullover and Jack sighs, a light shudder down his spine and this tiny, quiet noise of content.

“You are beautiful, and yes, I want to be with you. All the time”, Sam whispers, he sounds rough, feels like he needs to clear his throat.

Jack lays his hands on Sam’s and guides him down his sweatpants. Sam squeezes. A slight gasp.

“We will have a lot of time for fun stuff once we’re out of here.”

That makes Jack jerk up, jump and drag Sam on his feet.

“Come, Sam! I can’t wait to be out of here.”

[ageofevermore]

Lost You For Nothing

⊹  Summery: and maybe we were never meant to love beneath any set of stars 

⊹  Words: 1.2k

⊹  this contains season 7 spoilers, as well as mentions of previous character deaths. 

⊹  just doing my part in ignoring and not acknowledging the ending jroth gave bellamy, and instead writing my own. 

⊹ tagging some t100 mutuals bc we deserved somebody fighting for bellamy @r0s3mm​ @stilinskiswritings​ @mischiefandi​

She had loved him since the first time their eyes locked across the Sky Box. He was a guard, and unsurprisingly enough she was a prisoner. Her crime was involuntary, yet she wasn’t lucky enough to be the chosen twin. She figured it was due to her health conditions; a working class family barely had enough to support a healthy child, let alone one whose lungs were weak and susceptible to detrimental illness. She never cared much about her biological connections though, finding a family in her rotating guards and doctors. 

When she and ninety nine other prisoners were sent to the ground and the only person she knew was her former guard, her allegiance to Abigail Griffin’s daughter was severed. She had promised to protect the princess, but she could do that better from afar. For her entire life she had only known change, people were in and out so constantly she wondered if it had to do with her quirks of independence. Growing up in isolation stunted personal development, though she had clearly found enough of herself to turn people away. 

When she had finally let Bellamy in closer, she was handed a stick of meat and a wink. She had toted around a bulky silver bracelet until spitefully tearing it from her person in the face of Clarke, weakly shoving Wells aside when he lunged at her emotionally. She wasn’t unaffected by the throw away life she lived, but she couldn’t bring herself to care so deeply like Wells. She was born a default, just another statistic from the moment she opened her eyes. Sacrificial responsibilities were forced upon her from the minute she was given up. 

She had found her brother a week later after Octavia had aggravatedly yelled for Murphy throughout the camp and had gotten a response from both throw away teens. The softer of the two had frowned at the sight of another answering to her name before her heart stilled and she looked between her rival and her friend. 

When Mount Weather had attacked she had fought beside the former guard with glassy eyes and a conflicted approach, she found herself strung up by the ankles and drained of everything her body had to offer. She was manipulated and humiliated, treated as though she was beneath standard human respects. It was Bellamy who found her next to nude, pale and a pile of bones, fingertips tickling the concrete. 

John had broken her to pieces when he left with Jaha. She had watched everyone she loved fall apart, and even worse watched Clarke lose somebody she loved. When the sky had fallen for the second time and Bellamy had ejected himself from the atmosphere, he had given her no choice but to be by his side. Her brother had found infinite love within a grounder's eyes, while she was spiraling deeper and deeper into love with Bellamy. 

When they found another planet capable of sustaining human life forms, she had mourned the loss of not only a hundred years, but the death and love of two close friends. She had taken Jordan under her wing without prompt, simultaneously looking out for Madi. She had never seen herself as being maternal, but she had seen too many hearts turn cold without guidance; Finn, Charlotte, fucking Pike. She had higher hopes and expectations for generations to come. 

When John almost died and Abby actually did, that’s when Brinley understood that there was no possibility of saving humanity. They couldn’t even save themselves. Life beyond the ark had led to mass destruction by a failure to be taught compassion and understanding, rather rank and diversity. What she hadn’t been prepared for, was having no chance to say goodbye to the man she never got to kiss; 

“What the hell do you mean, Clarke?” Brinley snapped, stepping towards the blonde with a fire in her eyes. Octavia had her arms draped around the offender's neck, Echo close to joining the embrace with a peaceful understanding in her irises. 

“Brinley--” Murphy watched his sister inch dangerously close to the blonde drenched in blood. The blood of everyone in Mount Weather, the blood of Maya and Gina, Charlotte and Wells, Lexa. Clarke was covered in the blood of everyone she tried to help, and now Bellamy was upon the endless list. 

“No. Clarke, what the hell do you mean? What the hell do you mean? He, what did you do? Clarke, what the hell did you do? What the hell did you do?” She fell to her knees, sinking into the gentle softness of rediscovered nature. Bellamy should have been beside her, reveling in what Earth had begun in their absence. “What did you do? Say it! Say what you did Clarke, say it!” 

“I killed him.” The blonde’s voice trembled as she pulled away from Echo and watched the younger brunette wither on the forest floor, stained with tears and a lifetime of loss. 

Her mind wandered to Bellamy’s reaction tactics, and the way she knew he would have rushed to her side and pressed her forehead into his neck until her heart calmed down. He would have blocked out the noise and grounded her in an intimate moment of kindness and acceptance. Bellamy would have forgiven Clarke, but Brinley never could. 

“Where’s the book?” Brinley snapped, somehow finding her bearing enough to support herself on two feet, rather than all fours. Her knees were damp with dirt, and her palms were scratched up, but as she wiped the tears from her cheeks and paths of blood and brown stained her, she couldn’t care less. “Where’s the book, Clarke!” 

“Sanctum.” 

Brinley’s eyes pinched tightly as another aching sobs slipped through the confines of her chest. “Was Lincoln not enough for you?” She cried, eyes hard and teary as she advanced towards the warrior. “Was Lincoln and Finn and Lexa not enough for you? Are you so desperate to dismantle any ounce of love you come across? Should John be worried? Are you gonna kill Emori next? Huh, Clarke?” Brinely grabs at the gun in Clarke’s hands, sobbing when the cold metal freezes her burning touch, though recklessly she aims it at her brother's girlfriend.

“Brinley, calm down.” Octavia warned warily, eyes on the black gun that was shakily pointed towards a distressed Emori. The girls had become like sisters, though siblingship clearly meant nothing to the last living Blake. 

Brinely shrieked animalistically, eyes wild with a fire. “Calm down? She killed your brother, Octavia! She killed your brother! He’s dead. Bellamy’s dead. Kane and Abby and Aurora and Bellamy. They’re all dead. You don’t have anybody left!” 

“He was dead a long time ago.” Echo tried to interject, watching over the teetering Murphy who couldn’t seem to process the information she was being fed. 

“He was dead when he joined Pike, and when he lost Gina, and months before that when he hung John! When he got Lincoln killed he was just about as good as dead as he was on Bardo and you still tried to fucking save him! You justify when people are worth saving, Clarke. You think you’re god, Clarke. You’re not! You kill people. You killed him! You killed him long before we even stepped foot on Sanctum. You killed us all.”

[kilibaggins]

Soft Memori/John Murphy Headcanons

Someone mentioned they wanted some of these, so I just made a long list as a separate post so It counts as content. 🙃

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Murphy has a soft tummy bump... That’s it that’s the headcanon.... 

Uh, Emori likes to tickle his tummy and his sides because he’s really ticklish. 

Murphy cries when he’s overwhelmed, so Emori will hold him and make sure hes okay (Okay, Admittedly, not the fluffiest headcanon, but its soft sooo)

Murphy blushes when Emori flirts with him. He never gets used to it, and always blushes. 

Emori holds his hand everywhere oh my god. 

You will not see them apart!!! Nope, you ain’t getting them to let go of eachothers hands. 

Murphy is the little spoon, but it took a while for him to get to the point of letting her hold him. 

Because he had always felt it was a “Mans duty” to hold a woman, and make sure theyre safe or whatever because of all the gender sterotypes. 

So one day emori is like “Hey, you’re sad, let me hold you.”

And murphy goes “Uh, what?”

And bada bing, bada boom, Murphy discovers the amazing nature of little spoon. 

He did not expect it to feel as amazing as it did. Literally he ahd no nightmares that night,he fell asleep so quick, he almost CRIED at the very feeling of her arms around him and UGH

SOFT. 

If either of them feel anxtious in a situation, if possible, they will get eachothe rout of it. 

“A Meeting with Clarke and Bellamy? fuck that, Murphy is fidgeting and anxious, Im gonna get him out of here, and go cuddle.”

Since I have this headcanon that Murphy is an artist deep down, He draws Emori when she’s doing something sometimes. Like, If shes sleeping or working with Raven. 

UHH I want to add more but I cant think of any right now.. whoops. 

[dahlia-molinas]

everyone wants what john “it tickles” murphy and emori “i was picking the right dress” have. 

[d-criss-news]

Darren Criss on his marriage and new role in ‘American Buffalo’

When Darren Criss settles into our Alexa interview at a chic cafe in West LA, he’s friendly and direct.

“I am an outspoken person in real life, but in the media, I find I’m very reserved,” he observes. “I’m asked questions about myself that I haven’t really had to think about. That is a really strange occupational hazard. It would be like if you asked your dental hygienist, ‘Do you think your career choice stems from your interest in cleanliness as a kid?'”

Reading between the lines: The actor-producer-songwriter du jour resists the sound bite.

Criss, 33, may be the consummate showman, but in person — apart from a hint of chipped black nail polish and a pair of gold-rimmed aviators that nod to his love of costume — he seems more cerebral theater nerd (a flag he flies proudly) than flamboyant hunk.

Before long, Criss is expounding on big themes in a delightfully thespy manner. Conversations branch off, reverse direction, then run off on entirely new paths.

“I like keeping myself in balance by taking constant left and right turns,” he explains of his career. “The party trick? You think I’m doing all this stuff spontaneously, but it’s not without a significant attention to detail and planning. I don’t freak out if it doesn’t go as planned, but whatever it is, I will optimize it. Drop me off anywhere, and I will make [it] as awesome as possible.”

For a significant and impassioned fan base, Criss is the guy who sang, danced and heartthrobbed his way through a starring role on “Glee.” He’d go on to become an unsettlingly cheerful killer in 2018’s “The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story,” a nuanced performance that won him an Emmy and a Golden Globe.

In 2020, things are getting even more extra.

The day of our interview, he was flying to NYC to begin rehearsals for David Mamet’s “American Buffalo,” now set to begin previews April 14 at Circle in the Square Theatre (a delay after Broadway shuttered over the coronavirus pandemic). He will play Bobby — one of a trio of hustlers trying to make it rich — alongside Laurence Fishburne and Sam Rockwell.

“I try to do a show in New York every two to three years,” says Criss (who’s previously starred in “How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying” and “Hedwig and the Angry Inch”). “It will be great to be in New York doing one of the great American plays with a great American playwright.”

He’s also experimenting with new formats, namely executive-producing, writing songs for and starring in the new satiric series “Royalties,” which will debut on the short-form video streaming platform Quibi this spring.

In May, he’ll channel the golden age of cinema in “Hollywood,” the hotly anticipated Ryan Murphy-helmed Netflix series, which Criss also executive-produced. (Not to mention his work for Elsie Fest, a musical-theater festival he co-founded five years ago.)

If your head is spinning, that’s all part of the plan.

“I love giving strangers an excuse to connect,” he says. “I just enjoy quirky things and quirky people. And that comes from the idea of challenging people’s expectations. At the end of the day, that’s my biggest driving force — that you can do something weird and have it be cool.”

Born in San Francisco, Criss knew early on that he wanted to follow an original path. He taught himself piano, studied violin and, at the age of 10, made his professional theater debut.

“Had my parents wanted me to be an actor, I wouldn’t have done it,” he reflects. “But I realized I had a knack for it. I’m literally a parrot: I like mimicry, music, accents.”

His hobby, he insists, is practicing his Japanese. A dream vacation, he says, would be a sojourn at Middlebury College’s language immersion program. “It’s where they send the CIA to learn Farsi. I would love it!”

While a student at the University of Michigan, Criss gained fame with his contribution to the YouTube cult hit “A Very Potter Musical”, which led to the co-founding of the musical-comedy sensation StarKid.

“At the time, studio execs didn’t understand the power of social media. In my early 20s, I was this Internet force with my friends, but going to play piano at [a bar] twice a week. I was living a double life, with Billboard-charting albums, and yet, how could you explain this to a casting director? They were like, ‘You make Internet videos?’ It was absurd to them. Nobody [at the time] knew how to monetize that.”

During his mainstream breakout as the chiseled Blaine Anderson — who famously covered “Teenage Dream” on “Glee” — Criss earned what he describes as a “master’s in putting music and the camera together,” an experience that has served him well in both “Hollywood” and his genre-defying Quibi show, where he’ll play a songwriter aside big-name musician guest stars.

While Criss has played several high-profile gay characters in his career, he says he’ll no longer accept such parts, telling Bustle in late 2018: “I want to make sure I won’t be another straight boy taking a gay man’s role.”

In February 2019 he married his girlfriend — writer-producer-musician Mia Swier — in New Orleans. The experience can only be described as an immersive extravaganza.

Their first “dance” was a rendition of “The Ballroom Blitz” by British rock brand Sweet, with Criss on guitar and Mia on bass. They were later serenaded by friends Lea Michele and John Stamos.

There were umpteen costume changes (during the evening’s silent disco, a Vera Wang gown and Armani suit were traded for matching sequin T-shirts). Although Vogue covered the festivities, Criss says much remains under wraps.

“I want to show people all the things that really go on [in my life], but I’m also quiet about it,” he reflects. “The wedding is a good example. I remember thinking,’I wish everybody in the world could see this, it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever pulled off.’ When I put myself into something, I give it everything I’ve got. That was a big representation of who I am and who my wife is and what we do.

It’s non-conventional, out-of-the-box thinking and that also led Criss and his wife to open the Hollywood piano bar Tramp Stamp Granny’s, in 2018. Mia (whose family founded The Mercury Lounge and Bowery Ballroom in NYC) takes the lead on the project, although Criss says he still occasionally tickles the ivories there, a throwback to his leaner years working piano bars.

If you ask nicely, he may even sing. Crew Credits: Fashion Editor: Serena French; Stylist: Anahita Moussavian; Fashion Assistants: Nicole Zane and Haley Wells; Grooming: Jessica Ortiz at Forward Artists using Shiseido; Tailoring: Amber Doyle

Photographed at Dear Irving, 55 Irving Place

[bowieandqueen11]

Queen Masterlist

Queen Cuddles Headcanons

Queen Proposal Headcanons

Brian May Hair Imagine

Queen x Reader Birthday Headcanons

Brian May Valentine Day Imagine

Old Roger Taylor x Reader Fluff Headcanons

Brian May x Reader Imagine

Roger Taylor x Plus Size Reader Imagine

Freddie Mercury x Insecure! Reader Imagine

Ben Hardy x Stressed!Reader Movie Night Headcanons

Old Roger Taylor x Reader Set Imagine

Roger Taylor x Reader Bad Day Imagine

John Deacon x male!Reader Proposal Imagine

Rami Malek x Reader Comfort Headcanons

Roger Taylor x Reader Angst Headcanons

Rami Malek x Reader Turbulence Comfort Headcanons

The Invisible Man Origin Headcanons

Freddie Mercury x Period Pain!Reader Fluff Headcanons

Joe Mazzello x Stressed!Reader Fluff Headcanons

Sleepy Roger Taylor Headcanon Fluff

Hide and Seek with Freddie Mercury Headcanons

Brian May x Short!Reader Headcanons

Freddie Mercury x Injured!Reader Headcanons

Joe Mazzello x Actor!Reader (for @barnesbabes​ my darling)

Roger Taylor x Cheating!Reader Angst Imagine

Brian May Late Night Fluff Imagine

Roger Taylor Period Fluff Imagine

Queen Bouncy Castle Birthday Imagine

Joe Mazzello x Reader Wedding Imagine Part 1

Jealous Roger Taylor Fluff

Joe Mazzello x Stressed Male Reader Fluff

Freddie Mercury x Reader Tickle Fight

Queen x Reader Dance Party

Roger Taylor x Student!Reader Drum Lesson Fluff

Freddie Mercury x Male!Reader Camping Fluff Imagine

Soup and Cuddles/ Rami Malek x Reader

Baby Fever/ Rami Malek x Reader

Roger Taylor ‘39 Tambourine Fluff

Gwilym Lee Proposal Fluff

Coma/ Roger Taylor Angst

I’m In Love.../ Roger Taylor Kitchen Dancing Imagine

Tim Murphy x Reader

Freddie Mercury Hungover Imagine

Dad!Gwilym Lee Fluff

Late Night/ Rami Malek x Reader

Old!Roger Taylor Borhap Set Fluff

Love you 3000/ Joe Mazzello Proposal Fluff

Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy / Freddie Mercury x Male!Reader Swimming Fluff

Man’s Best Friend / Joe Mazzello Fluff

Blackbird / John Deacon Fluff

Fun After All / Brian May Fluff

Clear The Air / John Deacon Imagine

Home Sweet Home / Freddie Mercury Fluff

Forgetful / Brian May Fluff

You’re My Best Friend / John Deacon x Male!Reader Fluff

Sleepy Kisses / Freddie Mercury Fluff

Fat Bottomed Girl / Brian May Fluff

My Shield / Brian May x Curvy!Reader Angst and Fluff

Admiration and Respect / Rami Malek Wedding Imagine

How They Ask You On A Date / Queen Headcanons

Perfect The Way You Are / Borhap Bisexual Pride Imagine

Wet Kisses / Brian May Fluff

Chocolate Sundae / Roger Taylor Fluff

Brightest Star / Brian May Stargazing Date

Birthday Surprise / Queen + David Bowie + Elton John (for my dear @crzy-lilthing​)

Beautiful / Brian May x Sad Curvy!Reader Comfort Fluff

Confident And Bold / Platonic!Freddie Mercury Fluff

Don’t Take Them Away From Me / Brian May x Injured!Reader Angst

Sorry He Lost You / Roger Taylor Angst

Make The World Go Round / Body Positive Queen Headcanons

Mermaid / Brian May Headcanons

Love of my Life / Freddie Mercury x Male!Reader

Memories / Older!Roger Taylor x Reader Fluff

Chronic Illness / Roger Taylor Imagine

Moonlight Dance / Ben Hardy Fluff

Surprise Visit / Freddie Mercury Fluff

Heart to Heart / Freddie Mercury 

Live Aid Freddie Mercury Imagine

Starlight / Freddie Mercury x Male Reader Fluff

Can’t You See? / Positive Queen Imagine

Tall is Sexy / Brian May Fluff

Special Tie / Freddie Mercury Fluff

Milkshake Mayhem / Roger Taylor Fluff

Creep / Roger Taylor Drabble

Deacy’s Crush / May!Reader Headcanons

Movie Night / Queen Fluff

Autumn / Freddie Mercury x Male!Reader

Exquisite Taste / Freddie Mercury Fluff

Queen and Bowie

Queen x Reader x Bowie Music video Headcanons

Freddie Mercury x Reader x Jealous!Bowie Headcanons

John Deacon x Reader x Protective Brother!Bowie Imagine

Bowie x Injured!Reader x Mercury

Instant Star/ Platonic!Freddie x Reader x Bowie

Be Loved In Return

Such A Tease / Freddie Mercury x Reader x Platonic!Bowie Fluff

Best Friend / Queen Imagine

[troped-fanfic-challenge]

tickled pink in shades of color   

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The 100 (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin Characters: Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake, John Murphy (The 100), Nathan Miller, Lincoln (The 100) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Alternate Universe - Social Media, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Roommates, Body Painting that Leads to Sex, Chopped: After the Kitchens Close            

Summary: 

Clarke’s not really sure what convinces her to try a coupley video challenge with an unaware Bellamy when they very clearly are not a couple. She’s really not sure how she didn’t expect that one to blow up in her face.

And then she somehow has to paint his bare body for a virtual gallery she committed a contribution to?

What could possibly go wrong?

(So many things. So many things can go wrong.)

((But maybe they could also go right?))

Chopped Choice 2.0 Smut Submission

[canonconspiracy]

His Sister’s Keeper (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

Fanfiction By: @rmorningstar21

Fandom: The 100

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader

This is cross-posted on my Wattpad (@rmorningstar21) and I may end up moving The 100 to AO3 if I keep up with it enough.  I currently have 6 oneshots up (including this one) on my wattpad under The 100 Oneshots and Imagines.  Check them out!  Currently they’re Bellamy Blake and John Murphy, but I plan on adding more characters soon.

"Bell, where are you taking me?" You whispered as your best friend dragged you around the Ark.  There was a mix of excitement and concern in his face as he dragged you, fully adorned in his cadet uniform.  The first day he was accepted into the guard, he had been so happy that he shared the news almost immediately with you.  

"Y/N/N, you need to be quiet," he said softly as he continued to drag you, stopping at the front of his family's room on the Ark.  

You eyed him suspiciously, as you had been to his home more than a few times, and this was nothing new to you.  The urgency in his tone made you think it had to be something, though, so you kept your mouth shut as he quickly opened and closed the door after checking left and right to make sure that no one had followed the two of you.  

When you had begun looking around his quarters, though, your eyes stopped on a girl that was not much younger than you.  She was possibly two years younger than you, with black hair that framed her face, up in a pony tail.  The girl had deep blue eyes, as blue as the sky, and her facial features reminded you incredibly of Bellamy's mother.  "Bell, who is-," you said in a whisper, your mouth immediately covered by your best friend's hand.  

He leaned forward and whispered in your ear, his hot breath tickling your earlobe as he spoke.  "This is my little sister, Octavia," he said almost inaudible even to you, "and no one must ever find out about her." 

"Who's this?" Octavia asked, her eyebrow raised as she studied your features.  "You know mom said no one could ever, you know." 

"We can trust her," he said a little louder, but still whispering, as he glanced back over to his sister.  "This is my best friend, Y/N."  

You could not help the tinge of blush that rose in your cheeks as you felt Bellamy move a hand onto your shoulder as he introduced you.  A smile curled upon your lips, and you could not help but feel your heart warm as he trusted you with such a large secret.  It was forbidden to have more than one child, after all, and could result in so many horrible things if the secret had gotten out.  

"I'm so glad to meet you," you said softly, overjoyed, but knowleded that you needed to be as quiet as possible.  "You're so beautiful." 

Octavia blushed at your words, a smile crossing her face as she heard you.  The three of you hung out for a while, getting to know Octavia for the very first time.  You were already feeling close to the younger girl, admittedly feeling so bad that she had to be kept a secret in that metal room.  It was almost like a prison, with the only positive thing to look forward to being the time that she got to play with her brother.  

When you bid them farewell, you engulfed the girl in a hug, which she hesitantly accepted.  As the two of you separated, you could see the large smile that plastered her face, and when you glanced over to Bell, you could see the warm smile he had as well.  His two favorite people in the whole Ark had met, gotten along, and he could not be happier.  There was even a little bit of blush upon his face, watching how well you took to his sister.  

Unity Day was something that all the teens on the Ark looked forward to, and the fact that this Unity Day was a Masquerade meant that your second favorite person could attend unnoticed.  You awaited Bellamy and Octavia in the hallway, acting casual as you stared at the beautiful moon from outside the Ark.  Though you were looking forward to it, the risk did make your stomach stir and your mind race.  

Thoughts that swirled through your mind abruptly stopped as you heard a girl gasp behind you.  Your lips curled into a smile as you turned your eyes to see Octavia in the mask that you had given Bellamy to give to her.  "Beautiful, isn't it?" You said in a whisper, watching as she simply nodded with a large smile on her face.  

Your eyes glanced back a little further, catching the gaze of Bellamy.  A soft blush had fought to rise in your cheeks as you saw your handsome best friend.  Unfortunately for the three of you, the moment was cut off by the indistinct noises of other teens making their way to the Unity Day dance.  

Already adorned in a mask of your own, much like Octavia's with a little bit of painting on each side that you had done yourself, you followed with Octavia, shortly followed behind by Bellamy.  He had already explained the situation to you for Unity Day, and you told him that you would keep an eye out for her as well.  After all, Bellamy and Octavia were the two closest people to you.  

The music thudded against your eardrums as you entered the dimly lit room, contrasted with the glow of neon lights.  It was not a particularly large room for a party, but it sufficed for the teens that were all dancing around.  Octavia had caught the eye of plenty of the boys already, and though you had another staring you down, you did not plan to dance with anyone.   

Bellamy watched the two of you carefully from the side, as one of the acting guards that had been assigned to the Unity Dance.  You unfortunately, to keep a low profile, had begun dancing with the boy that would not stop eyeing you down.  Though you danced with the boy, you tried your best to keep your distance, keeping at least 10 inches between the mystery boy and yourself, as well as a clear line that you could watch Octavia.  

As the dance continued on, something went wrong.  The alarms began blaring, causing your heart to tighten.  It was announced over the intercom that there was a Solar Flare.  All that were attending the party had to take off their masks and report to the safe room, ID's ready.  

You were not sure what came over you as you watched the frantic Bellamy trying to get Octavia to safety, but you quickly met them, slipping your ID into Octavia's hands.  "You'll be safe, I promise," you whispered, "Y/N L/N."  From under your mask, you winked at the girl, before giving Bellamy a confident look.  

"Take the mask off and show me your ID," the guard said to you sternly, causing your heart to leap.  

You glanced for an escape, trying to find any that you possibly could.  "I-uh, don't have it on me," you said sheepishly.  

"Everyone is required to have their ID on them at all times," the guard replied, his voice causing you to internally panic.  "How old are you?" 

"Seventeen, sir," you said softly, your voice wavering as you spoke.  As he was getting ready to tell the other guards to grab you, you took off, trying to get away.  

"Wait!" Octavia said firmly, causing everyone to look at her.  "This is her ID." 

"No, she's lying," you said quickly, though the guard was already scanning the ID, realizing that you looked a great deal more like Y/N L/N than Octavia did.  

"Take them both away," the guards said finally, and you watched Bellamy's shocked face as the two guards dragged the both of you to the skybox, where you would be stuck until you turned 18 and they could float you.  

"Octavia," you said barely above a whisper as you watched the guards shove her into her new room, tears streaming down your face.  

"If she had kept quiet, we would have just taken you away," the one guard chided as you were thrown into your own room in the skybox.  You could not help but start to sob, thinking of how this one little thing had ruined everything.  All you wanted was to keep Octavia safe, and now the Blake's mother would float, you shortly afterwards.  

***

Instead of floating, you were sent to Earth along with the rest of the delinquents.  Luckily, you were sent the day before you had turned eighteen, otherwise who knows what would have happened to you.  The downside about Earth was the fact that you would still never be able to see Bellamy Blake again, but as you knew, you would have been sentenced to float if the Earth mission was not put in place.  

The landing was harsh, as something went wrong with the dropship, causing anxiety to heighten in everyone around you.  There was screaming, and then a calm stop, where everyone piled out in front of the door in a crowd.  Through the crowd, you could barely recognize anyone, until you saw jet black hair that could not help but make you smile. 

"Octavia," you breathed out, surprised to see her.  

She immediately wrapped her arms around you, smiling.  "Y/N!" She said happily, before both of you caught sight of someone you expected never to see again.  

"Bellamy!" You both exclaimed at the same time, separating from each other and pushing to the front.  You let her go ahead of you, watching as the two siblings reunited - a sight that nearly brought you to tears.  

"Octavia," he whispered, "Look how you've grown."  

The crowd whispered about how they didn't have siblings, and harsh comments about how Octavia was hidden underneath the floor for sixteen years of her life.  You sent others harsh glares, eventually muttering to the people speaking next to you.  "Shut the fuck up," you said in a low growl, causing one of them to freeze in their place.  

"Let's have them know you for something else," you could hear Bellamy say to Octavia, a smile painted upon his face.  

"Like what?" She asked confused.  

As he was working to open the door, he said, "As the first person on Earth." 

When the light flooded the dropship, the air was definitely breathable, filling your lungs with warmth.  

Though Octavia was hesitant at first, she jumped down off the dropship, making it on land before she threw her arms up in the air.  "We're back, Bitches!" She exclaimed happily.  

As everyone filed off the dropship after her, enjoying the new surroundings, you found yourself standing next to Bellamy, enjoying the sight.  

"Y/N?" He asked tentatively, glancing over to you.  

Your eyes shifted upward, catching his brown eyed gaze.  "Bell," you said hesitantly, biting your lip, nervousness flooding you.  Wondering how he would even react to you, you simply nodded afterwards, not daring to say another word.  

What came out of his mouth shocked you, as he whispered, "Thank you." 

"You know, it didn't work," you muttered out uncomfortably, a frown perched upon your face.  "And I'm so fucking sorry I couldn't pull it off." 

"That's not your fault," he said, placing an arm around your shoulder as he spoke.  "You would have floated on your eighteenth birthday, and you knew that.  What you tried to do was incredible." 

"Bell, you know I would have done anything for you and her," you said dismissively.  "There was no one I cared more for on that entire Ark." 

To your immediate dismay, you felt the arm that was wrapped around your shoulder leave, but once that warm feeling was replaced with an alien feeling of Bellamy's lips planted against your own, you could felt butterflies flapping in your stomach.  Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed him back passionately, melting into the taste of his lips.  

Once the two of you separated, you simply stared into his brown eyes.  A smile perched against both of your lips, blush scattered against both your faces.  "I love you, Y/N/N," he said softly, the words slipping from his lips faster than he could even think about it.  

"I love you, too, Bell," you said softly.  

From that day forward, the two of you would work together to keep his sister safe.  Just like back on the Ark, and yet, so much differently.  They were your family, and you would do just about anything for either of them.  

[atmyhiraeth]

SEND ME A SHIP and I’ll tell you:

@survivormoves sent: Emori and Murphy! 

Who said “I love you” first

John. I think John believes himself unlovable ( at least to a point ) but is capable of loving others. Emori believes she’s deserving of love, but has more trouble expressing love to others.

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background

( i’m just answering clearly modern questions in modernverse) Maybe neither maybe both. I think both would think it was a little overly cheesy, and honestly I could see John being the kind of person to either not change from the stock photo or change it often. But also they’re both really proud of having the other as their S.O. and I think they’d recognize having the phone picture of the other is a clear “this is my person” sign to others that they would enjoy.

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror

Neither. Maybe a smiley face from time to time.

Who buys the other cheesy gifts

Both. Emori to make him laugh, him to make her smile.

Who initiated the first kiss

Emori. ( both the cheek kiss and try convincing me she didn’t initiate their first lip-on-lip kiss )

Who kisses the other awake in the morning

Definitely both.

Who starts tickle fights

Instinct says John, Sammie wanna weigh in?

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower

Neither, they just join. Most times they probably get IN together so no joining required.

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch

Mostly John, but Emori does try to make an effort when she remembers.

Who was nervous and shy on the first date

Both for different reasons.

Who kills/takes out the spiders

Both.

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk

John proclaims, Emori gets extra touchy and flirtatious. The “get a room” kind *smirky emoji*

[learnednothing]

@vandbaerer said: "&" ( from raven! )

Goosebumps speckle across his skin as Raven’s fingertips ghost over the scar on his side. It almost tickles, but John can remember the searing pain, the race to get to the ship haggling beside Monty, the close call of being left on Earth while it exploded to bits ( again ). The memories are too much for her gesture to feel completely pleasant. He squirms away from her touch, but makes sure to keep his arm around her.   ❝ Do you miss Earth? ❞   he asks, after a few moments of silence, his hands aimlessly grazing across her back.

trace murphy’s scars | accepting .

[ao3feed-the100]

tickled pink in shades of color

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yOTLuz

by Anonymous

Clarke’s not really sure what convinces her to try a coupley video challenge with an unaware Bellamy when they very clearly are not a couple. She’s really not sure how she didn’t expect that one to blow up in her face.

And then she somehow has to paint his bare body for a virtual gallery she committed a contribution to?

What could possibly go wrong?

(So many things. So many things can go wrong.)

((But maybe they could also go right?))

Words: 7649, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The 100 (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake, John Murphy (The 100), Nathan Miller, Lincoln (The 100)

Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Alternate Universe - Social Media, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Roommates, Body Painting that Leads to Sex, Chopped: After the Kitchens Close

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yOTLuz