#the guilt in john's voice when he said he had to run

[arthursfuckinghat]

Sorry just thinking about how lovingly Charles talked about where he'd buried Arthur, the softness and somber in his voice, the way he reassured John that Arthur got the proper burial he deserved.

"It's where he would have wanted to be.. a pretty hillside.. facing the evening sun."

[beloveds-embrace]

The part where Duke John gets a nightmare of the angst au. Now I wanna see the angst duke to suffer. Hear me out, it’s different than dreaming, it’s angst John somehow possessing the body of fluff Duke John and getting to live with the version of him not driving reader to deep depression/running away and marrying her guard. He got to live in that reality for a week before he got violently pull back to his reality where reader is deeply depressed or had already run away and eloped with Konig.

The world felt wrong.

John Price woke up to the sound of birdsong filtering through sheer curtains, soft light spilling across the bed. The mattress dipped slightly, warmth pressed against his side- an unfamiliar yet achingly pleasant weight- like when he had his lovers pressed against him, yet none of them felt like this exact weight. When he opened his eyes, he saw you curled against him, face serene in sleep. His lovers were there, too, the big bed piled with bodies yet he couldn’t look away from you.

His breath hitched.

This wasn’t right.

The last thing he remembered was the suffocating darkness of his study- papers piled high, half-empty glasses of whiskey staining the surface, and the emptiness echoing in his chest where something- someone- had once resided. He remembered the guilt that choked him, the bitter taste of regret as he stood outside your bedroom door, too much of a coward to knock.

But now…

You stirred beside him, your lashes fluttering as you blinked up at him, sleepy and soft.

“John?” Your voice was honeyed with drowsiness, and God, the way you said his name- like it was safe, like he was safe.

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

This wasn’t his life. Not the one he had shaped, sharp and cold.

You frowned then, pushing yourself up slightly. Your hand, so gentle, so devastatingly kind, pressed against his forehead. “You’re burning up. Did you sleep poorly again?”

Again?

Price swallowed, desperate to ground himself in this strange, impossible reality. His hands- calloused and rough, yet no longer trembling from whiskey and sleepless nights- caught your wrist, holding you still.

“You’re here.” He rasped, as though the words alone could make sense of this.

You tilted your head, confused but not wary. Not frightened of him.

“Of course I’m here, honey ” you said softly. ���Where else would I be?”

He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t tell you about the other you, the hollowed-out ghost he had left behind. The you who no longer smiled, whose laughter had faded into echoes in the corridors of his cold, empty home.

Instead, he pulled you close.

And you let him.

The week that followed felt like a dream- so sweet it hurt, left cavities that rang hallow in his teeth.

John saw the life he had destroyed laid out before him as though mocking him. The version of himself that existed here- this other John- had not made the same mistakes.

Here, you were cherished.

The household bustled around you, every servant greeting you warmly and lingering just a moment longer to share kind words. Kyle hovered near you like a protective shadow, hands gentle as he helped you arrange flowers or carry boxes too heavy for you. Johnny teased you endlessly in the kitchens, offering bites of whatever new dessert he’d concocted until you laughed so hard you had to wipe away tears. Simon, so often stoic, let his guard down completely around you- offering quiet companionship during your walks and even indulging your requests to teach you to paint.

And John…

This John loved you openly.

He wasn’t burdened by guilt, wasn’t weighed down by regret. He touched you without hesitation, lingered at your side as though he couldn’t bear to leave you for even a moment.

It was agonizing.

Because the other John- the one trapped in this perfect, golden life- knew it wasn’t his.

And he knew it couldn’t last.

He clung to every moment, every stolen glance and touch, trying to memorize the sound of your laughter and the way your eyes softened whenever you looked at him. He tried to be the man this version of himself was, desperate to make up for the damage he had done in the life he came from.

But it wasn’t enough. Not when he knew this wasn’t real.

When it ended, it was abrupt.

One moment, he was laughing with you in the gardens, your hand in his as you plucked fresh herbs for dinner. The next, his vision swam- darkness rushing in, cold and sharp and suffocating.

And when he woke, it was to the dim light of his study and the stale taste of whiskey on his tongue, the scene familiar.

He sat up too fast, bile rising in his throat as the world swayed. His heart hammered wildly, panic and disbelief clawing at his chest.

No.

No, no, no.

“Duchess,” he croaked, shoving away from the desk. His limbs were heavy, stiff from disuse, but he didn’t care. He staggered to your bedroom, barely able to keep himself upright.

The door creaked when he opened it (it was locked hours ago, you must have snuck out to scavange for food), revealing a suffocating stillness inside. The curtains were drawn, but a sliver of moonlight cut through the crack, illuminating the shape of you curled up on the massive bed.

You looked so small. Achingly so.

John’s chest tightened painfully. His nightmare had come to life again- except now he knew it wasn’t just a dream. He’d lived it. He’d seen what could have been. And now this- this- was what he had done instead.

His knees hit the floor beside the bed.

“Duchess.” He whispered, barely able to say your title through the lump in his throat.

You didn’t move.

Terror gripped him. Were you even breathing? His shaking hand hovered above your shoulder before gently pressing against it.

“Love. Please.”

You stirred, a soft noise escaping your lips as you turned your head just enough for him to see the faint outline of your face. John sucked in another breath, but the sound caught when he saw the dark smudges beneath your eyes. The way your lips looked chapped.

The dullness in your gaze when it finally met his, even clouded by sleep.

“…John?” Your voice cracked, raspy from likely crying your tender little heart out.

God, he hated himself.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he choked, his hands trembling as he touched your face. “Yes, I’m here. I’m here, I swear.”

You flinched. Just slightly, but he felt it.

It shattered him. John didn’t let go, though. He couldn’t- not when you felt so fragile beneath his touch. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away tears he hadn’t even realized had started falling.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so- God, I’m so sorry, love.”

You blinked slowly, as if trying to understand. “What… what are you doing here?”

“I should’ve been here the whole time.” His voice was raw, thick with guilt and grief. “I should’ve- should’ve never let it get this bad. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t-”

You flinched again, and he fell silent. When you turned away from him, curling in on yourself, his heart nearly gave out.

“Please,” he begged. “Please don’t shut me out. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything- I swear it, I’ll never- never let it get like this again.”

“You don’t- ” Your voice wavered, cracking. “You don’t even like me, John.”

The words pierced him deeper than any blade ever could.

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“No,” he said fiercely, climbing into the bed beside you without thinking. You stiffened, but he wrapped his arms around you anyway, pulling you against his chest. “No, it’s not true. I do like you- I care about you so much, and I’ve been a fool. I’ve been the worst husband you could’ve ever had, but I swear to you- on my life- that changes now.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he murmured into your hair, pressing trembling kisses against your temple. “I’m not lying. I swear it. You’re my wife. My duchess. And I will spend every single day proving to you that you’re precious to me. I’m so sorry, Duchess. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I should’ve never allowed anyone, even my lovers, to treat you like that. I’m so sorry.”

The sob that broke from you nearly killed him, but you didn’t push him away. Instead, your fingers clutched weakly at his shirt, and he held you even tighter.

“I’ll fix it,” he swore again, rocking you gently as you weeped against his chest. “I’ll make this right. I’ll protect you from everything- even from myself, if I have to. Just don’t leave me. Don’t give up on me yet.”

The tears didn’t stop for a long time. But by the time your breathing evened out and your fingers loosened their grip, John knew.

He had another chance.

And he would never, ever waste it again.

[oaksgrove]

A Life Left Behind

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x ex!Reader, John Price x Reader

Synopsis: When Price accidentally lets it slip at a pub that he has a missus waiting at home, Simon never suspects it could be you. That is, until a snowy Christmas Eve, when fate leads him past a warmly lit window, where the life he could’ve had reveals itself in full, devastating clarity.

Warnings: Heavy angst, themes of regret and break up, bittersweet holiday vibes.

Word Count: 1214

a/n: I’ve had this idea swirling in my head for a while—it’s pure heartbreak with a festive backdrop. English isn’t my first language, and this was witten in a rush, so thank you for your patience and all the support on my writing!

Manchester, UK. october | 9:20PM | 8°C

The vanilla scent of your favorite candle hung in the air, bittersweet against the tension suffocating the room. It reminded Simon of softer nights—of the evenings you spent curled together on the couch, your laughter filling the silence he’d grown so accustomed to before you. The thought was fleeting, a warm ember snuffed out by the cold reality that now stood between you.

You stood by the kitchen counter, arms crossed defensively, your eyes a mix of anger and hurt. Simon loomed near the window, his shoulders hunched as though bracing himself for a blow.

“Say something, Simon,” you demanded, your voice raw with emotion. “Anything.”

He didn’t move at first, his gaze fixed on the street outside. His jaw tightened, the cords of muscle twitching under his skin. “What do you want me to say?” he finally asked, his voice low, restrained—like he was holding back a flood.

You stepped closer, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I want you to tell me this isn’t real. That you don’t mean it when you say it’s better if we break up.”

For a moment, his mask slipped. The conflict in his eyes was like a storm on the horizon—rage, sadness, and guilt all warring beneath the surface. Then he shut it down, closing himself off again. “It is better,” he said, his voice faltering before he hardened it.

“For who, Simon?” Your voice cracked, frustration mingling with the ache in your chest. “Because it sure as hell isn’t for me.”

“For you,” he replied, firmer this time. “You deserve someone who can give you more than this—more than me.”

You could only stare at him, disbelief giving way to anger. “You don’t get to decide that for me! I knew what I was getting into, and I’m here, Simon. I chose you!”

His hand went to the back of his neck, a frustrated gesture you’d seen countless times. “I can’t keep doing this to you,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t see it now, but you’ll be better off without me.”

Your mind flooded with memories—of Simon’s quiet presence grounding you after bad days, of his rare, unguarded moments of laughter that felt like secrets shared just between the two of you. The way he would silently slip your favorite mug into your hands during cold mornings, the weight of his arm around you as you fell asleep.

“Do you even hear yourself?” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice. “You’re pushing me away because you think it’s what’s best for me? You’re not even giving me a choice.”

His silence was deafening, his eyes locked on the floor like he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze.

“I hope you believe that one day,” you said, grabbing your coat.

Your feet carried you to the door, and your hand hesitated on the knob. You wanted him to call out, to fight for you, to prove that this wasn’t just another wall he was building. But he didn’t.

You glanced back, and for a moment, he looked as though he might break—his fists clenched, his body taut with tension. But then his gaze dropped, and the words that could have saved you both never came.

“Goodbye, Simon.”

The door clicked shut behind you, and the cold October air wrapped around you as you walked away. Your legs moved on autopilot, but your mind stayed trapped in the warmth of the memories you were leaving behind.

The time he stayed up with you after your first fight, awkwardly holding your hand as he whispered, “I’m not good at this, but I’ll try.” The way he watched you with something close to wonder the night you wore his hoodie, laughing at his terrible attempt at making pancakes. The rare nights he let you in—told you stories of his childhood, of the people he lost. The first time he said, “I don’t deserve you,” and you kissed him before he could finish.

The sound of your own footsteps became unbearable, each one taking you further away from a man who couldn’t see that he was already everything you needed.

The Old Wellington - Manchester, UK. 1 year later, august | 9:45PM | 10°C

The pub buzzed with life, the comforting chaos of clinking glasses and laughter filling the air. Simon sat in the corner, detached, his untouched whiskey warming in his hand. His team’s voices faded into the background as his thoughts wandered to the edges of places he’d been avoiding.

Soap’s voice boomed above the noise, mid-story and gesturing wildly. “And then, just as the guy thinks he’s outsmarted us, the bloody fence gives way and—bam! Flat on his arse!”

Gaz burst into laughter, his grin wide. “You’ve got to be making that up.”

Price leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “It’s true. I was there.”

Simon stared into his glass, barely hearing the conversation. Soap nudged him with an elbow. “Oi, Ghost, are you alive in there?”

Simon glanced up, forcing a faint smirk. “Listening to you lot’s more entertaining than talking.”

“Sure it is,” Soap teased, raising his glass.

Price set his drink down, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got to go. It’s already late, missus is waiting for me at home.”

Soap nearly choked on his beer. “Wait a minute. You’ve got a missus? Since when?”

Gaz leaned forward, grinning. “Yeah, Cap. You’ve been holding out on us!”

“She likes her privacy,” Price replied with a shrug, a soft edge to his voice. “But yeah, I’ve got a missus.”

Simon’s grip on his glass tightened. The word missus hit him like a shot, sharp and precise, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

“What’s she like?” Soap asked, clearly intrigued.

Price’s expression softened as he thought about her. “She’s… everything, really. Smart, kind, funny. Keeps me on my toes.”

“She sounds like a saint, putting up with you,” Soap teased with a laugh.

Simon’s chest tightened at the word saint. The thought surfaced before he could stop it. My girl was a saint too…

He swallowed hard, his grip on the glass like a lifeline. He pictured you in his mind—your patience, your warmth, the way you’d look at him like he wasn’t the sum of his mistakes. He’d told himself a thousand times that he’d let you go for your own good, but here he was, haunted by memories he couldn’t shake.

“She is,” Price admitted with a rare smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Simon looked away, draining his whiskey in one gulp. The burn was nothing compared to the hollow ache in his chest.

“You good?” Price asked, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.

Simon straightened, forcing himself to appear calm. “Just remembered something I’ve got to take care of.”

He stood abruptly, tossing some cash on the table. “Catch you later.”

He left before anyone could question him, stepping out into the cold night air. The sharp chill bit at his skin, but it wasn’t enough to distract him.

She was a saint, wasn’t she? The thought lingered, twisting the knife. But he didn’t deserve saints. He never had.

Manchester, UK. 2 years later, december | 9:45PM | 6°C

Christmas had arrived, cloaking the streets of Manchester in a pristine layer of snow. The world felt hushed, the crunch of Simon’s boots against the frozen ground the only sound in the quiet night. His breath puffed in soft clouds, dissolving into the still air.

He hadn’t planned to be here—hadn’t even realized where his aimless wandering had taken him until he found himself on a familiar street. The glow of your living room window caught his eye, and before he could stop himself, he was standing there, looking in.

The scene inside was alive with warmth. Golden light spilled over the living room, illuminating a Christmas tree laden with ornaments. You stood beside it, a delicate bauble in your hand, your laughter bright as it mingled with the joyous chaos of two young boys crawling around the tree.

Simon’s gaze shifted. Price was there, standing close to you, his arm resting comfortably around your waist. The easy intimacy between you spoke volumes—a language Simon once knew but had long forgotten.

His chest tightened, the ache sharp and familiar. He stood frozen, his breath catching as a memory surfaced unbidden: you, sitting beside him on a cold night like this, your hand in his as you talked about the future. A future he’d convinced himself he couldn’t give you.

Now, here it was, vivid and real—but it wasn’t his.

You turned then, your eyes meeting his through the frosted glass. The moment stretched, fragile and heavy with unspoken words. Your expression softened, a bittersweet smile forming as if you understood everything he couldn’t say.

Simon’s gloved hand brushed the glass, the chill biting through the leather. For a fleeting second, he let himself imagine what it would feel like to step inside, to join the warmth instead of watching from the cold.

But he knew better.

He nodded once, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, before stepping back. The snow crunched softly beneath his boots as he turned away, his silhouette fading into the quiet night.

The ache lingered, but as he walked, it shifted—no longer a weight that dragged him down, but something softer, bearable. You were happy. That was enough.

The falling snow blurred his footprints behind him, erasing the path he’d taken to get here. Simon didn’t look back, his lips twitching into a faint smile. For the first time in years, he felt the beginnings of peace. Because some losses, though painful, could eventually feel like victories when love found its way to where it belonged.

[multific]

Taskforce 141 When You Use Your Safe Word - Preferences 

Warnings: SMUT, Minors DO NOT interact

It was all beginning to be a little too much.

You knew you should stop him, but you didn't want to disappoint him. You wanted to last as long as he needed you to, you were his good girl after all.

As he said many many times.

But he also said to stop him if it gets too much, he just how much he can get lost in your pussy and how rough he can get.

So, you agreed on a simple safe word, "Red". 

It was for you to use at any given moment. No questions asked he would stop immediately.

You never imagined using it, but as he was mercilessly pounding into you, it became all too much.

You wanted it to end, you needed it to end.

"Red! Please! RED!" you said when you finally caught your breath...

John Price

He stops immediately.

Pulling out as he turns you around, checking your face.

"Sweetgirl, are you okay? Talk to me."

"Too much." is all you could muster. And John immediately felt guilt running down his spine.

He knew the day would come when he went too far. When he would overstimulate you to the point of no return.

"Okay, let's get you into the bath, eh? A nice warm bath." he said as he ran to the bathroom and ran you a nice bath, he then ran back and got you.

Soon, he was sitting next to you on the floor, one of his arms inside the bath, in the water, making sure the temperature was perfect.

"I'm so sorry, Darling. I should have known. You started to move away from me, but I just kept going..."

"It is not your fault John, I should have stopped sooner."

"I should have known."

"It is not your fault." you moved your hand and placed it on his cheek, he turned and kissed your palm. "Make it up to me by cuddling me."

"I will never let you go. I'm truly sorry."

"This is why I have a safe word, John."

"And you were a good girl and used it." he placed a kiss on your head, and he would make sure to cuddle you until the next morning and beyond.

Simon Riley

He would be ashamed but it would take him a second to realize what you just said, but when he does, he moves away from you immediately.

His hands would be shaking as he watched you sit up against the headboard.

"I'm so sorry." he would turn to leave, but you stopped him.

"Simon," your sweet sweet voice. So kind and innocent, he would turn to look at you. "Come back please, I'm cold." how could he ever say no to that?

He grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt, handing it to you as he put on the pants.

He moved close to you, leaning against the headboard, holding you, running his hand up and down your back.

"I'm too sore, it's why I made you stop, I think I'm just too tired."

"I'm glad you spoke up and said something." you moved and kissed his cheek.

"I love you, Simon." you tried your best to reassure him, letting him know you were okay.

"I love you too."

Kyle Garrick

In one movement he stopped and looked at you, your back was to him but he heard you clear as day.

"It's too much, Kyle, please."

"I'm sorry, does it hurt?" he watched as you nodded and he moved back, turning you around and sitting you up in bed. "How about a shower?"

You nodded again as you slowly calmed down and your breathing evened out.

Kyle watched you closely, making sure you were okay, he even washed you up.

He then carried you to bed, laying you down.

"I'm so sorry."

"It is all good. I'm glad you stopped."

"Of course, I did! It is why I came up with a safe word for you. I'm glad you used it when it became too much." you smiled at him as he leaned down and kissed your lips. "Does it still hurt?"

"I'm more sore than hurt now." you said and he held you close. "It really is okay, Kyle."

He knew it was, and he knew it will be, he was just glad he had the presence to stop when he did.

Johnny MacTavish

It took him a moment to realize what you just said.

"Red?" he asked with a confused tone. "Shit." he moved away from you, but still stayed close. "What is it?" he asked and if you wouldn't be so out of it, you would have realized the worry in his voice.

"It hurts, too much." you managed to say.

"How can I help?" he asked, watching your face closely.

"Just hold me, let me sleep."

"Sleep, okay got it."

He pulled you close, turning the lights off as he soon heard your soft snores.

He felt so guilty for hurting you, but he was proud you spoke up.

He spent hours in the dark, thinking and overthinking.

He thought he should have noticed, that he should have realized, but he could recall that he was too focused on the feeling, he got lost in it, and he wouldn't have seen the discomfort because he had his head in the crook of your neck.

But one thing was sure, after this, Johnny would pay extra attention to keep his control and his cool and make sure you are comfortable and you enjoy sex as much as he does.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[baocean]

piss off your parents

chapter fourteen - the afterparty

note from the author - trigger warning! there is mentions of a car accident and trauma surrounding the accident. don't read if you're not sure! one quick other thing - kind of a long written chapter, to my people who are solely here for a smau, im sorry lol love you

her phone

liked by 600 people!

ynstjohn: no sleep!

sarahcam: BUS! CLUB! ANOTHER CLUB!

ruthiemarie: NEVER thought i would see a rave post from yn st. john

popeheyward: lets gooooo

cleoanderson: ok pretty girl

kelcee: yn st. john at the edge of water rave??? holy shit

jjmaybank: HELLLLL YEAAAAA

johnbroutledge: same time next week?

janeylowens: NO INVITE?

kiaracarrera: yes bitch. YES.

it’s five am. you were exhausted and right now, you were thanking your past self for slipping an energy drink into the cup holder before leaving your house.

your friends had piled into the twinkie, jj watching as they did so, silently from beside you.

sarah had clocked the action immediately, giving you wide eyes and a big grin.

he hadn’t asked, hadn’t mentioned it, just assumed it was implied. you tried not to read too much into it. you were still putting on an act for most of his friends, they would have questioned if he had left you alone.

he was playing music from your phone hooked up to the radio, stealing a few sips from your drink as you drove back to the island.

it had been almost been half an hour since you left the club, the conversation had died down long ago. the sun had started to rise when you spoke. "if you're okay with it, you can sleepover at my house."

the words felt awkward as soon as they left your mouth. you wanted to smack your head with your hand.

"holy shit, bunny. you read my fucking mind. you're a god send, i have no idea where my house keys are." jj snickered, a hand running through his hair.

you sighed in relief, a smile tugging at your lips.

he watched you for a moment, studying your features. "you tired?"

you shook your head, though you were. you had been dancing for practically five hours straight.

"you look tired." he chuckled, leaning towards you. you shifted in your seat.

"no, i’m totally good," you insisted, your gaze flickering toward him for just a second, your brows furrowing.

"seriously, i can take over and drive the rest of the way."

before you could respond, he traced the line of your forehead with a finger, and you swatted it away. "i’m fine, jj."

your tone came out sharper than you’d intended, making him recoil back into his seat, taking in a sharp breath.

the drive was silent after that. the tension hung in the air, a mixture of your guilt and jj’s uncertainty. the car felt stuffy, all too small.

you finally turned onto your street, driving alongside the water as the rising sun cast a golden glow over the houses on the shore.

"you can still sleep at mine, if you want to," you murmured, barely above a whisper.

he nodded, his eyes turning toward you as he studied your face.

it was quiet as you parked the car and led jj up to your bedroom. it was quiet as jj took in your space, the pastel pink wallpaper, the trinkets on your nightstand, and you busied yourself pulling open your closet, grabbing a chunky cardigan to cover the goosebumps on your arms.

since you’d snapped at him in the car, you’d been throwing around the idea of explaing why. it was only jj, after all.

you closed your eyes to prepare yourself, then turned to jj.

he chuckled when he saw your usual attire, barely loud enough for you to hear it.

"i’m sorry for snapping earlier," you sighed, crawling onto your bed and tucking your legs underneath you.

"it’s fine, don’t worry about it," he shrugged, leaning against your dresser.

"i want to tell you why." you said, your voice a little softer now.

he stayed silent for a moment, his brow furrowing just barely before he gave you a small nod, a silent reassurance.

"i'm scared of driving other people, it freaks me out. um, when i was a kid, i was riding with my grandma and i was screaming in the back so my grandma turned around to quiet me down and she swerved into another car."

jj's eyebrows raised in surprise, he moved from against the dresser to join you on your bed, sitting next to you, cautiously.

"my grandma only had minor injuries, and i only have a couple scars now, but we had to spend two days at the hospital. my cousin brought me a stuffed animal bunny, the bunny." you pointed towards the top of the bed, the small stuffed animal placed in the center of your pillows. a soft smile crept up on jj's face.

"my grandma isnt the best person in the world. she blamed me for the whole thing, she said some pretty awful things to me after the fact. i havent seen her since," you paused, shrugging your shoulders, "i was only six, i was just being a kid."

the silence lingered for a beat, until jj finally spoke.

"holy shit, yn."

you smiled, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away.

"your grandma is fucked up for that. like, really fucked up. that must have been so tough for you to go through, even as a kid."

you shrugged again, falling back against the bed. jj followed your movement, his arm outstretched to grab the bunny from where it rested.

"do you- should i stop calling you bunny? i mean, it must have bad memories connected to it. i totally will, just say the word." he said, hugging the bunny against his chest, as if holding onto the name, not wanting to let it go.

you watched him for a second. took in his tanned arms, the worn and scraggly bracelets on his wrist against your plush, clean stuffed animal.

"no, it's kind of annoying with my parents. you've made it into something fun, though." you nodded at him, a bried smile tugging at your lips.

"thanks for telling me," he said with a soft laugh,. "it makes me feel kinda special." he leaned on his side, trying to get a better look for you.

you rolled your eyes as you laughed along with him, grabbing the bunny from him.

"it's not a secret or anything, just hard to talk about sometimes." you brushed him off with a smile.

he just nodded, letting his eyes fall to the scar that ran through your eyebrow. letting yourself relax into the sleep you'd been fighting for hours, you closed your eyes and sighed.

"this is the weirdest afterparty i've ever been to." jj whispered, letting out a breathy laugh, turning back onto his back and settling against the bed.

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[nerdygirlramblings]

Off to See the Wizard (7)

previous | next

cw: bad attempt at accents

Gaz watches the door slam behind you and turns back to Price, eyebrow raised. "Well, that was'n part 'a the plan," he says dryly. He looks to Soap and Ghost then back at Price. He drops his gaze to where Price still holds his wrist and, voice laced with sadness, says, "Maybe we were too much."

Price angles his head to catch Gaz's eye. He sees his own guilt reflected there. He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "Ya might be right," he admits.

"Wot 'appened?" Ghost asks, looking from the chair you abandoned to the door to Price.

"Think we might-a come on too strong," Price says. "She'd been skittish at dinner. Who knows wha' she thinks 'a wha' you an' me told 'er seein' what we did tonight." He drops his head into his hands. He knows you need to know about them, but when they first tried to explain their relationship to Laswell, it took months to make her see. To understand. They simply don't have that time with you.

Price knows actions speak louder than words. But it seems they shouted when a whisper might have worked just as well.

You sleep fitfully, chased through your dreams by soft lips, deep blue eyes, a desperate plea, and a broken heart. In the morning, when you hear the others getting ready, instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, you pull your things together. As the door to the barracks closes behind them, you head to the bathroom to get ready. You've paid attention to their routine and know they do their first round of training before they eat. If you head to the mess now, you can pick up some coffee and food to take with you, thus avoiding them for now.

You run quickly through the line in the mess, grabbing some fruit before you go. You carry it and a big tumbler of coffee to your office where you proceed to barricade yourself in with all the current intel you have. You check and double-check and triple-check the travel itinerary; the boys leave in four days, and despite your own emotional turmoil, you want them safe. You ignore the text you get from Laswell asking how you're getting on with the boys. Does she know something about them you don't? Instead you respond with a comment about how you know how to get to town if you need to and about Corporal Avery. You keep your thoughts about the 141 guarded.

By lunchtime, you're deeply invested in some older intelligence on the organization the 141 is taking on. It's a series of wire-taps between some of the organization's presumed leaders and local underlings from months ago. You know the audio has been scrubbed six ways from Sunday, but you wouldn't be the best if you didn't follow every hunch, and something tells you there's important information here. If you can find it.

You're so deep down the rabbit hole you don't hear the knocking on your door. You focus on your job and don't realize you've skipped lunch.

You work through to dinner, stopping when your growling stomach reminds you it hasn't had quite enough fuel to keep going at this rate. A glance at the clock shows it's 7:30, far later than you've seen the boys eat. Maybe you can eat in the mess in peace and slip into the barracks unnoticed, but you doubt it.

It's really John you're avoiding. It's not Kyle's fault he kissed his friend? lover? partner? in front of you. He couldn't know what John insinuated earlier that day. He couldn't know the kiss just about broke you. Even Simon, though he said he wants you, didn't do anything to make you feel like he was putting you on. It was Soap who snuggled close. Sure, Simon didn't stop him, but maybe that's how they comfort one another. You know their jobs are harrowing. Maybe this is something they do to cope.

You aren't thinking about food when you walk into the mess, mind still stuck on the 141, so you're surprised to see Soap sitting alone at a table. You consider ignoring him - he hasn't seen you yet - but when he glances up and sees you, his whole demeanor changes. You didn't realize how sad he looked until you think about how happy he is to see you. He waves an arm and starts to rise, looking like he's going to start shouting at you in a moment.

You hurriedly make your way to him, sitting in the space across from him as he takes his seat. "Och, Oz, was thinkin' you'd taken off." It's part tease, part scold. "We didnae knoo whare ye were. Gaz couldnae feend ye for brekkie, ahnd Ghost said no one answered yoor door at lunch."

You bite your lip and look away, torn between being ashamed and frustrated. You finally settle on curious. "I'm a big girl, Soap. I can, and do, take care of myself."

He waves a hand at you. "Aye, we knoo. But we're all keen on spendin' time wi' oor best girl now tha' yoor here." He blushes a bit at this admission but still meets your gaze. "We only have a few days, and I fer one doan wanna miss out on ye if I can help it "

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks. Soap has always been a sweet talker, but this feels definitively more like flirting than anything he"s said over comms.

He starts talking again, barrelling through your silence. "An' I hope I didnae make ye uncomfortable when I was restin' las' night. He doesnae look it, but Ghost makes a right fine pillow." He winks at you. "I bet you do too. Yoor soothing like tha'."

You hurry to respond. "No, no, I wasn't... uncomfortable? A little surprised I guess. Didn't know it was, well, I don't know what I thought, but it's fine. I'm fine." You know how you sound, tripping over yourself. In an attempt to deflect, you say, "I still need to eat, so..." You trail off and hope he gets the hint to leave, but it seems he's stubborn because he doesn't react. In fact, he leans forward and levers him up when you do.

"Lemme come wi'," he says. "We all had oor scran, but I can keep ye company. Pay ye back for all those nights ye made things less lonely."

You can't really say no when he puts it so sweetly. So you let him accompany you through the line, pointing out what you should try and what to avoid. You don't fail to notice the sounds he makes when you grab your selections, the hums and snickers and scoffs and questioning noises. When you're sure you have a fairly balanced plate - with some extra desserts because it's been one of those days - Soap deftly pays, ignoring your reminder that, "I get a daily meal allowance as part of this placement. It isn't even my money I'm spending." Then he snags your tray, carrying it for you back to your table.

As you eat Soap tells you more about himself, especially his family and how they want him to "settle doon wi' a nice girl." And just as John did the previous morning, Soap looks directly into your eyes as he says it. "Ne'er thought I'd feend one Ah wanted to settle doon wi'. No' really. No' until yoo, Oz."

You sputter for a moment, but really, who wouldn't. Three admissions of desire? love? in two days, and though you aren't quite as shocked by Soap's after both John and Simon, you're still troubled. "What about last night? You and Simon...you seem...close."

Soap nods his head. "Aye, we are. But it doesnae mean my heart is too full for ye." He looks at you so earnestly the recriminations die in your throat. You have feelings for four people all at the same time, after all. Who's to say the same can't be true for Soap. Is that what's going on with John, too?

You take a deep breath and force yourself to meet Soap's eyes. "What, exactly, are you saying, Soap? Are you playing around? Is this a game, or-"

He hastily cuts you off. "No! No no, nothin' li' tha'. I like ye, Oz. Have for a long while." He reaches across the table to hold your hand. "And yoor right. I have feelings foor...Ghost too." He shrugs and focuses on the table, collecting his thoughts. "Guess Ah don't see the point in limitin' mah love when each mission could be mah last." He spears you with his ice blue gaze and drives the point home when he adds, "An' Ah knoo Ah'm no' the only one who thinks tha' way."

series masterlist | main masterlist

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[dreameryfics]

JJ MAYBANK x READER

Summary: JJ does something stupid

I tried to pretend like nothing had happened, that everything was fine. We were going to look for the Royal Merchant hoping to find the gold. When we got to the bottom and found the shipwreck, that happiness soon turned into utter disappointment. It wasn't there. Who knows if it had ever been there honestly.

We were headed back to the Chateau and everybody was upset, everything has led up to this and now we don't know where to go from here. Hopefully, someone has a major breakthrough on what to do. We tied the boat up to the dock and headed our separate ways. John B went home, Kie went to the Wreck, Pope went to the library, JJ went home, and I went for a walk. We all just needed our space for a little bit to think about what to do next.

I was walking along the beach, enjoying the weather. It was cloudy and a little windy, which almost messed up our finding the Royal Merchant earlier, but my favorite weather. The dreary weather has always been comforting to me. I wasn't on my walk for long before I heard my name being called. I turned around and saw Rafe and his goons. I rolled my eyes and turned to face him. "Rafe," I said back to him in a drawn-out voice, "Who are you mad at now?"

"Who the hell do your friends think they are?" He yells back at me, causing me to flinch at the sudden change in tone. I take a step back and find my back hitting Topper's chest. "Really, Rafe? I know you hate me, but three to one is a little unfair, dontcha think?" I look behind me at Topper and then over to Kelce who is standing next to Rafe. I cross my arms, annoyed that my walk was being interrupted. Rafe got close to me and took hold of my wrist which caught me off guard. "What the hell, Rafe," I curse at him trying to pull my arm away. That's for sure to leave a bruise.

Rafe gets close to my face causing my heart to beat faster. "Tell those boyfriends of yours that we know," he whispers into my ear. He backs away, still holding my wrist in his hands, and looks at me. I give him a confused look before ripping my wrist away from his grip. He pats the side of my face and smirks before walking away. He glances back at me one last time before I turn and walk away. It didn't take me long before I got to JJ's house. Luke was gone, probably getting drunk.

"JJ, what the hell did you do?" I ask him walking into the backyard where he was sitting. He stands up to look at me. "Why did Rafe, Top, and Kelce just stop me on the beach?" As soon as I mentioned the three, I could see the anger flash through his face. He walks over to me and runs a hand through his hair.

"What did they say?" he asks with guilt lacing his voice. I roll my eyes at him, "They didn't say shit to me J," I say louder this time, getting frustrated over the entire situation. "He said to tell those boyfriends of mine that we know," I repeated what I was told. JJ lets out a sigh before turning around and sitting down.

"So, uh," he starts explaining looking up to me, "you know how Pope had that cut on his forehead?" I nod my head, still not understanding. "Rafe and Topper jumped him, beat him up with a damn golf club. I couldn't just stand by and let them get away with it." JJ looks down and plays with the rings on his fingers, "We sunk Topper's boat."

I look at him with wide eyes, not able to think of what to say to him. He stands up and walks over to me, grabbing my hands. He looks down and I feel his grip loosen, "What is this?" He points to the forming bruise on my wrist. He looks up at me with pleading eyes, "How do you think Rafe stopped me?" I said with anger laced in my voice. I try to storm away from him, but he runs in front of me and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Rafe did that?" I nod my head at him and continue walking, "Will you please just talk to me?"

"J, please just," I look him in the eyes and can see the worry in them, "leave me alone." He is taken aback and steps aside, letting me walk away. I turn around and look at him, "I just need a second."

It was more than a second by a few hours. I just needed a second to think about what they did before I responded out of anger. I walk to the Chateau and see JJ by the dock. He's looking over the edge of the railing. I start walking up to him and he turns around and just looks at me. He raises his eyebrow at me, wondering what I was doing. "I'm sorry J," I tell him walking up to him and resting my elbows on the railing. He hasn't taken his eyes off me, "I didn't mean to just leave." I apologize.

"It's just, what you did was extreme and then on top of that, involving Pope? He's got the most going for him out of all of us, he can't get caught up in something like this." JJ looks out to the open water before looking back at me.

"You know why I didn't tell you?" I look up at him and mumble a small no. "I didn't tell you, not because you'd be mad, but because I know you would try to help," he tells me as he looks down at me. "I couldn't bear the thought of you getting in trouble. Pope agreed to this, but we both agreed you couldn't know."

"JJ, I don't understand why though," I tell him and turn around to lean my back against the railing. "Why would it matter if I tried to help?"

JJ takes my hand and places his hand on the bruise that was left by Rafe earlier. "This," he looked down at my wrist, "this is why we didn't tell you. You didn't know shit and this happened. I love you, but you have a mouth on you," JJ chuckles at the last part, but I can't stop thinking about what he said. "Rafe is a douchebag of the finest order and if you knew more, this might've been worse." He holds my hand in his and is tracing the bruise on my wrist.

"JJ," I look up at him to find him staring into my eyes, "Did you just say you love me?" I could see the red tint on his face immediately. He quickly looked away. He let go of my hand and I felt all the cold I felt before return. "You've just never said that to me before."

I look down at my feet, trying to ignore the heartbreaking feeling. I went to walk away before I heard him say, "I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner." I look up and turn around to face him. He's still looking out at the open water. "I couldn't bear to see you hurt because I love you. Not like how I love the rest of the Pogues." He turns around to face me, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier about Topper's boat, but I knew if you knew, you'd be in more danger."

I went and grabbed JJ's hand, "I can take care of myself you know." I tell him which causes him to chuckle. "I know you can," he leans down and places a kiss on my lips. He places his hand on my back and pulls me closer, deepening the kiss.

Kie yells at us from the house that we were going to be late for the movies. We back away from each other, hoping she didn't see. "I could get used to that," JJ whispers in my ear before walking back to the house, leaving me speechless to what just happened. Maybe I needed to get mad at him earlier for this to happen. I chuckle at the thought before following after him. Once I see Kie isn't outside anymore, I place my hand in his and he places a small kiss to my temple.

We headed to the movies and, let's just say, all shit broke loose by the end of the night.

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part Six

Pairings: Bucky x Reader AU .... eventually lol

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Idiots, angst, Buckys dumb for like no reason at all. Poor steve :(

A/N: Okay im uploading part 7 directly after this cuz yall were patient when i said i was uploading part 6 last night and never did lmao, also the next two are just kinda build ups bucky and reader gonna have some words.........

Masterpost

----

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks at Steve and Sam, who are both waiting, wide-eyed. “Do you remember that party at John Walker’s house? It was a couple of years after you dropped out, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes narrow, thinking back. “Yeah, I only heard about it because Wanda said it got messy. And Steve… you were the one who became the keg stand champion, right?”

Steve smirks at the memory. “Yeah, that was one for the books. But what’s that got to do with anything?”

Bucky looks down, his voice soft, almost reverent. “That night… something happened between us. We’d been drinking, and one thing led to another. We, uh, we…. slept together.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Steve’s eyes go wide, and Sam’s jaw drops. Finally, Steve manages, “Holy crap, Buck. You two just… jumped from being best friends to that?”

Bucky nods, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’d been in love with her for as long as I could remember. And that night… it felt like everything. I thought maybe… maybe it meant the same to her.” His face darkens, his voice dropping. “But when I woke up the next morning, she was gone. Just… vanished. Didn’t say a word. And after that, she wouldn’t even meet my eyes for weeks.”

Sam shakes his head, completely floored. “So you’re telling us that you two had this whole moment… and then she just left?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters, still looking down. “I thought maybe she was spooked, it was a lot, so I gave her some space but…” He trails off sighing, “Maybe she regretted it, or felt ashamed. Hell, I even started to think she was disgusted with herself for… being with me.”

Steve rubs his forehead, staring at Bucky with a mix of disbelief and pity. “So you’ve just… never talked about it? Not once?”

“No,” Bucky says with a bitter laugh. “She wouldn’t, and I wasn’t gonna force her to. I figured if she wanted to pretend it never happened, then that’s what we’d do, yknow id do anything for her”

Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Buck, everyone’s known she’s been in love with you since forever. She probably thought you saw it as a drunken mistake.”

Bucky stares at him, bewildered. “What do you mean?”

“Your reputation in college, at least when I was there” Sam says bluntly. “She probably thought she was just another notch on your belt. Especially if she’d heard any of those rumours.”

Bucky looks between them, realisation dawning as he mutters, “She knew those were just rumours, were best friends, she knows me better than that, right? She had to have known they were just rumours.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “How was she supposed to know, Buck? Everyone around campus talked about you like you were this heartbreaker, this guy who couldn’t be tied down. Best friend Bucky and relationship you are two different Bucky’s to her… can you blame her for thinking that night didn’t mean anything to you?”

Bucky stares at the floor, his expression twisted with guilt and frustration. “I just… I thought she’d know I’d never do that to her. That she was different, of course she is different it's her, she has to know that!” He clenches his fists. “I thought she was the one regretting it.”

Sam lets out a sigh, leaning forward. “So let me get this straight. You both spent years walking on eggshells, thinking the other didn’t care, and you’re both probably miserable because of it.”

Bucky shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “It just felt safer to leave it alone. I thought it was better to have her in my life as my best friend than risk losing her altogether. I’d rather have had some of her than none at all.”

Steve shakes his head, a small, sad smile on his face. “You two have been dancing around each other all this time. It’s like you’ve been playing some drawn-out, painful game of cat and mouse.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s hollow. “Guess we’re both idiots.”

Sam gives him a pointed look. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Bucky looks up, something vulnerable flashing in his eyes. “I don’t know. I thought I’d missed my chance. But… if she still feels the same, if there’s even a part of her that still cares…”

Steve claps him on the shoulder. “Then it’s worth fighting for, Buck. Don’t let another night slip by without her knowing how you feel, you’ve wasted enough time already”

Bucky’s face hardens with resolve, determination mingling with the lingering fear in his eyes. “You’re right. I have to tell her. I just hope… I hope it’s not too late. You’re a good friend, Steve. Thanks for this.”

Steve musters a small, bittersweet smile. “Of course, Buck. Anything for you.”

Inside, though, a quiet ache flares—a familiar, constant ache he’s learned to bury deep down. Unrequited love is painful enough, but what gnaws at Steve isn’t just his own longing. It’s the years he’s spent watching the two people he cares about most teeter on the edge of something real, only to pull back time and again. He’s seen Bucky’s yearning masked as indifference, her stolen glances that went unnoticed, and all the missed moments that could have been… if only one of them had been brave enough.

To Steve, there’s a nobility in his silence—a duty to let them find happiness, even if it’s not with him. It would be easy to resent Bucky for hurting you, for treating your feelings like a burden. But Steve can’t bring himself to feel anything other than empathy. Bucky’s been as lost as you have, caught in a battle he’s too proud or too scared to admit.

He knows, deep down, that his own feelings don’t matter here. What matters is that they have a chance, a real chance, at the happiness he’s always wanted for you, even if its not with him. And if he has to carry his love quietly, if he has to keep his own heartache in check for them, then that’s what he’ll do.

“Go tell her, Buck,” Steve says quietly, the weight of unspoken words heavy in his voice. “And don’t waste a single moment. You both deserve to know the truth.”

Bucky meets his gaze, nodding with a unsure but trusting smile. He has no idea of the sacrifice Steve is making in this moment, Steve watches him, swallowing the longing and sadness that’s always there but will never be voiced. In his own way, he’s choosing love too—a selfless love that finds peace in seeing her happiness, even if it’s not

with him.

Sam glanced at Bucky, his brow furrowing. “Hold on a second, what about Kate?”

Bucky’s face falls at Sam’s question, the name he’s been trying not to think about suddenly hitting him like a weight in his chest. Kate. Sweet, caring, loyal Kate, who had seen the best in him when he couldn’t see it himself, who had been there quietly beside him, hoping he’d come around.

He hesitates, avoiding his friends’ eyes as he tries to gather his thoughts. “I… I don’t know. Kate deserves the truth too. I thought maybe she was what I needed to finally… to finally move on.” He sighs, the regret heavy in his voice. “But that was just me lying to myself. And she doesn’t deserve that.”

Sam nods, a hint of sympathy in his expression. “Kate’s a good person, Buck. She doesn’t deserve to be anyone’s second choice.”

Bucky looks down, guilt clawing at him. “I know. And I hate that I’ve made her one. She should be with someone who’s all in… and that’s not me. It’s not fair to her.”

Steve studies Bucky’s face, understanding but also concerned. “So, you’re going to talk to her?”

Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah. She deserves to know. I need to be honest with her before I can… before I can even think about anything else.”

Steve claps a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Good. She deserves that much.”

That afternoon, Bucky texts Kate, asking if they can meet up. His heart pounds as he waits for her reply, the thought of ending things with her weighing heavily on his mind. She responds quickly, suggesting they meet at the same little coffee shop from the day before, and he heads there with a mix of dread and resignation.

When he arrives, Kate is already seated at their usual table, a soft smile brightening her face when she sees him. It makes the ache in his chest deepen—he knows that after today, that smile will probably disappear, and he’ll be the one responsible for it.

“Hey,” she says, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “You sounded serious in your text. Everything okay?”

Bucky nods, though the heaviness in his gaze betrays him. “Yeah, I… I just needed to talk to you about something. Something I haven’t been fair about.”

Kate’s smile fades slightly, a hint of concern clouding her expression. “What is it?”

He opens his mouth to explain, but the words get stuck, the weight of everything catching up to him. “Kate… I don’t know how to say this. You deserve so much more than I’ve been giving you. I haven’t been fair to you. I haven’t… I haven’t been fully here.”

Kate’s face softens as she reaches out, gently placing her hand over his. “Bucky, I know this hasn’t been easy for you. I know you’re… complicated. But I’m here because I want to be. Because I care about you, whether you’re all in or not.”

He shakes his head, guilt gnawing at him. “You deserve better than ‘complicated,’ Kate. I thought I could be the guy you deserve, but I just… I can’t be.”

She watches him for a long moment, and then her voice drops, quiet but sure. “Bucky, I knew what I was getting into when I fell for you. I know you’re still figuring things out, and I can be patient. I can wait if that’s what you need.”

Her words stop him in his tracks. There’s an unflinching loyalty in her eyes, a warmth and steadiness that he’s never fully appreciated until now. She doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch, and the weight of her gaze makes his chest tighten.

“Kate, I…” he starts, but she squeezes his hand, stopping him.

“Look, Bucky, I know there are things you haven’t told me, things you don’t think I understand. But I’ve seen the way you look at me, and I think… I think we could really have something if you let us.” Her voice trembles slightly, but she holds his gaze, her own eyes filled with a quiet determination.

For a moment, he’s silent, trying to process what she’s offering him. Kate’s hope, her patience, her willingness to wait for him—it’s more than he deserves, more than he ever thought he’d find with anyone. And he realizes, with a pang, that he can’t bring himself to end things with her today. Not with the sincerity in her voice, the openness in her gaze.

After a long moment, he forces himself to nod. “Thank you, Kate. For… for everything…”

She smiles, a relieved smile that makes him feel even worse, but he doesn’t have the heart to say anything more. The truth—the messy, painful truth—will have to wait. For now, he’ll accept her patience, even if he doesn’t deserve it.

---

You sit back on Natasha’s bed, letting out a long sigh, the wine making you feel just the tiniest bit lightheaded as you stare up at the ceiling.

“I can’t go home,” you mutter. “Bucky’s over at Steve and Sam’s tonight but, when he comes home, I… I just can’t face him right now. Not after everything.”

Natasha gives you a soft smile. “Of course, you can stay here. You’re always welcome.”

Wanda chimes in, wrapping an arm around you. “We’ll have a proper girls’ night. Forget about all that for now.”

You smile, feeling a wave of relief. As you settle back, Natasha glances over at you with a knowing look. “So… what about Dean?”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Oh, God. I completely forgot about Dean.”

Natasha grins. “I can text him, say you got cold feet or something?”

You shake your head. “No, just… leave it. Honestly, with everything that’s happened… I don’t know. I keep thinking… what if Bucky doesn’t feel that way anymore? What if all of that—what I thought we shared—meant nothing to him?”

Natasha sighs, squeezing your hand. “Look, whatever you decide to do, I’m here. I’ve always got your back, babe.”

She pauses, giving you a smirk. “But you know… we’d choose you in the divorce, right?”

You let out a laugh, grabbing a pillow and swatting her with it. “There will be no choosing! And no divorcing! Bucky and I… we’ve been friends since we were five. I don’t know what I’d do if he… if he really was out of my life for good.”

Natasha’s gaze softens. “Then don’t let him be. You’re braver than you think. Just… be honest with him. You might be surprised by what he has to say.”

You fall quiet, her words lingering, filling you with equal parts hope and dread as you lay back, trying to gather the courage for whatever comes next.

The sun is bright, and the streets are bustling as you and Natasha stroll through the city, bags in hand and laughter spilling between you as you move from shop to shop. It feels like old times, light and easy, and after last night’s heart-to-heart, you’re almost… hopeful.

You’re telling Natasha about the cute little coffee shop you spotted around the corner when, out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a familiar head of tousled hair. You stop mid-sentence, freezing as you take in the scene just a few yards away: Bucky, hand in hand with Kate, both of them laughing, utterly absorbed in each other.

Your stomach sinks. You watch, feeling your heart twist as Bucky leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, his smile wide and unguarded in a way you’d never been able to see up close until now. He looks… happy. Truly, genuinely happy.

Natasha’s gaze follows yours, her face tightening with sympathy as she watches you take in the scene. “You okay?” she asks softly, though you can tell from her tone that she already knows the answer.

You tear your eyes away, blinking quickly to clear the sting in your eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s… let’s just keep going.”

Natasha squeezes your arm, and the two of you turn, heading back down the sidewalk. But as you walk, a hollow feeling settles in your chest, everything from the night before swirling in your mind—the confessions, the memories, the what-ifs. And now… this.

By the time you reach the next shop, you’ve already made up your mind. Bucky Barnes doesn’t think you’re worth it, and that’s that. Whatever you felt, whatever might have been between you in the past, it’s all in your head.

You glance over at Natasha, forcing a smile. “You know what? Let’s just forget about Friday. I’m not gonna… I don’t want to dwell on it anymore. He’s happy. I’m happy for him. I think… I think it’s time to just move on.”

Natasha studies you, a trace of concern in her eyes, but she nods, letting it go for now. “Okay. We’ll let it go. But… if you ever want to talk, you know I’m here.”

You nod, grateful. And just like that, you tuck the memories away, pushing everything—Friday night, college, all of it—back into a box in your mind.

After a long day of shopping, you and Natasha are finally heading back. She raises an eyebrow at the bags in your hands. “You know, you’re welcome to crash at mine again tonight if you don’t feel like facing him.”

You shake your head, trying to laugh it off. “Nah, I’ve got some work I need to finish up on my computer. Plus, I already paid rent for the month, and you know better than anyone how ridiculous rent is in New York. Can’t avoid him forever, right?”

Natasha gives you a look but doesn’t push it. “Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.”

You thank her and give her a quick hug before parting ways, gathering every ounce of courage as you head home. But when you open the door to your apartment, your heart sinks: Bucky’s there, sitting on the couch—with Kate. She’s nestled beside him, looking as comfortable as if she lives there.

As soon as you step in, Bucky’s eyes shoot to yours, and the intensity in them nearly stops you in your tracks. You can read him too well, even now. In those blue eyes, you see a mix of emotions flickering back and forth—regret, sadness, something that almost looks like relief—but you have no idea which is for you and which might be for Kate.

Kate is the first to break the silence, greeting you with a friendly smile. “Hey! How are you? Did you have a good weekend?”

You put on your best casual smile, keeping your gaze mostly on her and avoiding Bucky’s searching eyes. “Yeah, it was nice. Just got a little shopping done with Nat.” You hold up your bags, laughing softly. “Guess I went a little overboard.”

Kate laughs, glancing at the bags. “Looks like you did some damage! Special occasion or just a treat-yourself kind of day?”

You hesitate, then, glancing between the two of them. “Well, I’ve got a date on Saturday,” you say lightly, shrugging. “Needed something nice.”

“Oh!” Kate’s face lights up. “Natasha mentioned that on Friday. I’m so happy for you!” She’s smiling warmly, but you can still feel Bucky’s gaze piercing right into you, as if he’s trying to read something hidden just beneath the surface. He doesn’t say a word.

You force yourself to look away from him, meeting Kate’s eyes. “Thanks,” you say, giving her a polite nod. “Anyway, I should go put all this away.”

“Sure thing!” Kate laughs again. “Hey, if i dont see you before then, good luck on your date—he’s a lucky guy.”

You manage a smile, your heart twisting in ways you don’t want to acknowledge. “Thanks, Kate. You two have a good night.”

As you turn to head to your room, Bucky finally speaks up, his voice a little rough. “You don’t have to go, you know. You can hang out with us.”

You pause, turning just enough to look at him, this is the longest you’ve gone without speaking to him and the words that come out cut your throat, you shake your head. “No, I’m okay James….thanks, though.”

And with that, you disappear into your room, shutting the door softly behind you. Only then do you release the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, leaning back against the door and closing your eyes as you try to settle your racing heart.

----

The week passed in a fog of work and silence, each day dragging as you went through the motions with an ache in your chest that you couldn’t shake. It felt surreal to be in the same office as Bucky, the silence between you heavy and stifling. The two of you used to share everything—your worries, victories, and endless conversations. Now, there was a chasm between you, one neither of you seemed willing to bridge. Each day stretched endlessly, and this was the longest you’d gone without speaking to him in as long as you could remember.

At first, you tried to keep things normal, focusing on your work, staying in your lane. But the tension between you was like a third person in the room, and it made everything feel unsteady. You couldn’t help stealing glances at him, watching the way he laughed with the others, though even that sounded hollow. You missed the easy camaraderie, the inside jokes, and the playful banter. Now, every moment felt loaded, thick with unsaid words and unspoken longing.

By Wednesday night, you were drained—emotionally and physically exhausted. You’d promised yourself you’d join the group for Wing Wednesday, but as the day wore on, a familiar dread settled in your stomach. The thought of sitting across from Bucky, acting like everything was fine, felt impossible. So, you stayed home, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, wishing you could shake the emptiness that clung to you.

The next evening, desperate to clear your mind, you found yourself at the grocery store. You wandered the aisles, filling your cart with essentials, hoping the routine task would offer a brief escape. You were reaching for a can on the top shelf when a familiar voice broke through your thoughts.

“Hey! You’re alive!”

You turned to see Steve approaching, a wide grin lighting up his face. He pulled his cart up next to yours, his eyes warm with that steady kindness that always made you feel a bit lighter.

“Yeah, just barely,” you replied with a faint smile. “It’s been… a rough week.”

“We missed you at Wing Wednesday,” he said, his tone light but laced with concern.

You sighed, biting your lip. “Yeah, I just… wasn’t feeling up to it.”

Without asking, he reached over and took a couple of your bags from the cart, lifting them effortlessly. “Let me help you with these.”

You walked beside him, the weight of your bags lightened by his presence. The chill of the evening air hit your face as you stepped outside, a reminder that life was still moving around you, even as you felt stuck.

“Thanks, Steve,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He glanced over, his expression growing serious. “Hey… don’t push the rest of us away. Don’t push me away because of Bucky and his nonsense.”

A sad laugh escaped you, more bitter than you meant it to be. “I’m not trying to, Steve. It’s just… hard. It’s been hard for so long, and… I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

Unshed tears blurred your vision, and you looked down, trying to keep them at bay.

Steve’s expression softened, his voice gentle. “I know exactly what you mean.”

You furrowed your brow, glancing up at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “What do you mean?”

For a moment, he seemed to weigh his words, as if deciding how much to reveal. Finally, he sighed, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. “I’ve been in love with someone too… someone who I know doesn’t feel the same way.”

You felt your heart race, wondering who he could mean. You’d always thought of Steve as your steady friend, the one who was always there. A name popped into your head—Natasha, maybe? She was magnetic, effortlessly commanding any room she walked into.

“Who?” you asked softly, not wanting to pry but unable to help yourself.

He hesitated, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place, before glancing away as you approached your apartment door. Ignoring your question, he murmured, “There’s a difference, though.”

“What difference?”

He paused, then looked back at you, a weight of unspoken words in his gaze. “Yours… isn’t unrequited like you think it is.”

You blinked, his words sinking in slowly. “What are you saying?”

Steve held your gaze, his voice firm but kind. “I mean, you don’t see how he feels about you. You’re letting your own doubts twist what’s really there. You think he doesn’t want you, but I can tell you he does.” He reached up, gently wiping away a stray tear from your cheek, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

You swallowed, your heart racing. “Steve, I—”

He raised a hand, gently stopping you. “Just think about it, okay? Don’t shut me out. I know you’re hurting, but… my life without you in it would feel empty.”

He offered a soft, bittersweet smile, and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning to go, leaving you standing at your door, heart pounding and mind racing.

[niniwritesxo]

bailed on me

- this is the first fiction i’ve ever written, english is not my first language so please keep that in mind when reading this story :)

no warnings!!

description:

just some angst between you and jj 🙏

——————————————————————————

The sun had barely set over the Outer Banks, the sky a dull red and gold, but to you, the world felt dark. You sat on the back porch of the chateau, your legs drawn up to your chest as you stared out at the water, the familiar view of the island doing nothing to calm you.

It had started with something small. Or at least, that’s how it had seemed at first. A missed text here, a lie there, a canceled plan when you needed him most. JJ had always been impulsive, always a little reckless, but lately, it felt like he was slipping away in ways that couldn’t be ignored anymore.

Your phone buzzed on the table beside you, a message from JJ.

“Can we talk?”

You sighed, your fingers curling into fists. You already knew what this conversation would be. It was the same thing they always did—argue, fight, and then act like nothing ever happened. Only this time, something in you had shifted. You were tired of pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t.

A moment later, You heard his footsteps on the gravel. The sound of his boots crunching underfoot was enough to make your stomach tighten. You didn’t turn around, but you didn’t have to. JJ was standing behind you, watching you, waiting for you to speak first.

"Do you even realize how much you're pulling away from me?" you asked, your voice steady but laced with the hurt you were trying not to show.

JJ hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "What do you mean?"

You stood up abruptly, turning to face him. "You’ve been ignoring me, JJ. And it’s not just that. It’s the lies. The stupid little things that add up until I don’t even know who you are anymore."

JJ’s face fell, guilt flashing across his features, but he didn’t say anything right away. You pressed on, your anger rising as you tried to put everything you had been feeling into words.

"When you said you were going to help me with the party last weekend… and then you bailed to hang out with John B instead? Do you think I didn't notice that? And when I needed you after my dad called—after all that shit with him—and you just disappeared?" You let out a bitter laugh. "You’re always there for everyone else, JJ, but not for me. And I don’t get it. I don’t get why."

JJ’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue. But instead, he took a deep breath and looked down, avoiding her gaze.

"Y/N, you don’t get it," he muttered. "I’m trying. I’m trying so damn hard, but I—I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to be what you need me to be."

"That’s just it!" You snapped. "I never asked you to be something you’re not. I just… I just wanted you to show up. To be there, for once. You keep running away every time things get hard, and I’m so tired of it."

JJ’s heart pounded in his chest, and the words felt like knives in his stomach. He had never meant to hurt you. But he had. He knew he had. And he hated himself for it.

"You think I want to pull away from you? That I want to push you out of my life? You don’t know how hard it is for me to be around you sometimes." He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling over. "I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared of messing things up. Of getting too close and losing it all. I don’t know how to be perfect for you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care."

Your eyes softened slightly, but the hurt was still there. "I never needed you to be perfect. I just needed you to stay. Just once, to not pull away when things got tough."

There was a long silence between them, and JJ felt like his chest was caving in. He wanted to reach for you, to pull you into his arms, but he was scared that doing so would only make everything worse. He had always been afraid of losing you, but it felt like the damage was already done.

"Why do you push me away like this?" you whispered, your voice cracking. "I can’t keep doing this with you, JJ. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay when I know you’re just… waiting for the next thing to go wrong. Waiting for it to fall apart."

JJ closed his eyes, the words you spoke echoing in his head like a warning. He hated that you were right. He had been waiting for it to fall apart—because every time something good came into his life, he expected it to slip through his fingers. His father had been that way, his whole life had been that way. But you didn’t deserve to be caught in that cycle.

"Y/N, I’m sorry," he said, the words coming out strained. "I just don’t know how to be what you want me to be. I don’t know how to make it right, but I swear I’m trying."

Your heart twisted at the sincerity in his voice, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal. Not this time. Not after everything.

"You can’t keep trying forever, JJ. Sometimes, trying isn’t enough. I need you to show up. To show me that you care. But right now, I just don’t think you do."

You turned away then, the finality in your steps making his stomach drop. You didn’t wait for him to say anything else. You didn’t need to. The truth was in the silence.

JJ stood there, the weight of everything pressing down on him, and for the first time in a long time, he wondered if he’d ever be able to fix this. To fix them.

[depressed-bitch-80]

Not So Secret Anymore

Chapter 2

Word count: 1,003

Pairing: BBC!Sherlock x Reader

Summary: John is trying to enjoy a peaceful day at 221B when a mystery woman shows up and says she’s Sherlock’s wife.

A/N: This chapter is a little bit longer! Currently halfway through ch. 3. Let me know what you think!

Ao3 link, Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

It was approaching midnight when John heard the familiar sound of Sherlock’s wingtips trudging up the stairs. By this point John had time to sit and simmer with his newfound information about his flatmate. He wasn’t angry per say, just very confused. If Sherlock truly was married why did he feel the need to keep it from him? Was the woman lying and just looking for media attention? He didn’t know, but he was about to find out.

As calm as he could, so he wouldn’t cause any suspicion, he asked “How was your day?”

Sherlock merely glanced at him as he was hanging up his belstaff and scarf. “Boring. Utter waste of time. What at first glance seemed to be a promising case turned out to be just an unremarkable patricide.”

“Is that why you didn’t call me in?” John asked, curious.

“What? No. You had work today at the surgery.”

“That was yesterday, Sherlock and that doesn’t usually stop you. When was the last time you slept?” John was now more than slightly concerned about the well being of the obviously manic detective. He watched as Sherlock paced rapidly through the sitting room, not quite sure if he’d heard him. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock was started by the commanding voice. “Hmm?”

“When was the last time you slept?” John repeated, now getting a little frustrated. Sherlock looked at him like a child who had gotten caught stealing from the cookie jar, pure guilt.

“Well let’s see counting the power nap on the table it would be Tuesday. Do not worry, I have roughly 27 hours before my transport fails me.” Sherlock stated as matter-of-factly as he could.

“Tuesday? Sherlock, it's Friday!” John was now passing the point of concern to annoyance at the man’s utter disregard of self care. “Go to bed now. You will not push yourself any further, I’m not going to pick you up off the floor when you inevitably pass out from exhaustion.”

“Fine” Sherlock seethes “what is the point of these trivial needs?” He begins to begrudgingly make his way to his bedroom when he notices the extra cup of tea sitting on the desk, gone cold. “We had a client come in today.”

“We did.” John said. He had almost forgotten the reason he had stayed up to catch Sherlock returning.

“Details?” Sherlock asked, now mildly intrigued. John was trying to figure out how he could delicately bring up the situation he now found himself in.

“It was a woman trying to figure out why her husband has been so busy.” John was purposely keeping it vague at the moment for his own sanity but he could tell he was very rapidly losing Sherlock’s interest.

“Boring. Cheating, pass.”

“Wait, Sherlock, you need to hear this one.” Well he was just going to have to come out and say it, well at least in a way that Sherlock could deduce who he was talking about. “Apparently he’s been running around with his blogger, neglecting to call her, and get this the woman had a very peculiar name”

“John-“ Sherlock looked genuinely shocked, but John didn’t care as a wave of anger and betrayal rushed over him.

“No, I don't want to hear it. You’re what? Married? And you neglected to share that information with me this whole time we’ve known each other.” John was fuming. Sherlock had resumed his manic pacing of the sitting room. John somehow realized he wasn’t going to get the answers he really wanted tonight and forced himself to breathe and unclench his fists.

“John, where is she?”

“She left hours ago. She came here looking for you but I had no clue where you were per usual.” Sherlock was now digging out a phone from the desk drawer.

“Something has gone wrong. She’s not supposed to be back for twelve more days.” Sherlock said, frantically dialing numbers into what looked to be a burner phone.

“Sherlock, what are you talking about?” John was now confused as ever. Just to add to his confusion, he hears ringing coming from Sherlock's room. Sherlock quickly hangs up his phone.

They both stare at the open door in anticipation. Just as John was about to reach for his gun, also in the desk drawer, a figure came drifting down the hallway. Almost instantly when (Y/N) came into view, Sherlock’s features twisted into those of concern.

“Don’t worry I’m fine.” She reassured, only slightly believing herself.

“You’re not.” Sherlock said, taking ahold of both of her arms and leaning in to rest his forehead on hers. It was a quiet, intimate moment between two souls who had been apart for so long.

“Just some minor scratches, I’ll be fine.” She whispered, not wanting to put an inch more between them.

“Two lacerations to your abdomen, a broken rib, and a dislocated shoulder is hardly what I would categorize as fine.” He finally pulled away, vaguely aware that John was still in the room with them.

“The shoulder has been properly reset, the rib is merely fractured and it’s nothing more than a few flesh wounds my dear, nothing to worry about. Besides, I do believe we have an in-house doctor now.” Gesturing to John, who was now sitting on the sofa staring at them in bewilderment and feeling a little like a third wheel.

“Sorry but, you’ve been here this entire time?” John asked, trying desperately to get some clarification on the situation.

“Yes, I do live here.” She answered, trying not to sound too harsh. She knew her bedside manners could use some work.

“But how?” John asked. He had seen her leave out the front door and he hadn’t left the sitting room since. It didn’t make any sense to him how she could have made it all the way back up into the bedroom.

“You’ll find she’s very stealthy when she wants to be, she is MI6 after all.” Sherlock stated, looking at (Y/N) with pride. John was going to need a drink.

[lila-lou]

✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 1✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, ANGST, Fluff, John being a dick

Word Count: 5697

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

The air in the bar felt thick, heavy with the scent of spiced cider and a faint edge of old whiskey, blending into the murmur of low conversations and a crackling rock song on the jukebox. You’d come here tonight for a quiet drink, something to chase away the chill of early autumn and the memories that always seemed to creep up on you this time of year. But all thoughts of peace vanished the moment you saw him.

Dean Winchester.

He was older, his jawline sharper, more rugged than you remembered. But it was him, sitting across the bar, just as cocky and self-assured as he’d been five years ago. He was laughing at something, a low, rough laugh, and you could just make out his voice. Next to him was a younger guy with shaggy hair—his little brother, you guessed. The kid was a bit taller than you’d imagined, but something in the way Dean looked at him told you it had to be Sam.

Five years.

It had been five years since Dean Winchester had walked out of your life, without so much as a word or even a backward glance.

Three months was all it had taken for him to slip past your defenses, just long enough to make you feel something real—just long enough for him to break your heart.

You’d told yourself you’d moved on, but now, seeing him here, you weren’t so sure.

You didn’t know if you were more shocked or furious. What the hell was he doing here, sitting at the bar in your town, like he hadn’t left a storm behind him? You felt your hands curl into fists at your sides, trying to keep your breathing steady as you watched him lean into his conversation, completely unaware of your presence.

You clenched your fists tighter, the old hurt and bitterness simmering to the surface. Five years might as well have been five days with the way the memories rushed back.

Dean had been your first everything—first real crush, first kiss, first love, first time.

He had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world, like nothing else mattered when you were together. But then, without so much as a word, he was gone. Left you staring at empty halls, his laugh an echo that haunted you long after he disappeared. You’d never gotten an answer, just silence.

And now, here he was, like some ghost from a past you’d never properly buried.

Taking a steadying breath, you pushed away the hesitation. You weren’t a teenager anymore; you deserved answers. And damn it, he needed to know that some things didn’t just disappear.

You took another step forward, just enough for him to catch sight of you from the corner of his eye. His head turned, and when he saw you, his face went slack with surprise, the hint of a smile fading as quickly as it had come. His green eyes—those same ones that had once looked at you like you were his whole world—widened slightly.

“(Y/N)?”, he said, your name a quiet murmur, almost like a question, as though he couldn’t believe it was really you.

The casual surprise in his tone snapped something inside you. For a second, you just stared back, holding his gaze, letting him feel every bit of anger that had built up over the years.

“Surprised?”, you asked, letting a little edge slip into your voice. “You look pretty good for a ghost, Winchester”.

He blinked, the surprise melting into something else—guilt, maybe, or regret, though he tried to hide it quickly behind that familiar cocky smirk. But it didn’t reach his eyes, and you could see he was still searching for the right words, like he hadn’t quite prepared for this confrontation.

“Didn’t think I’d run into anyone from back then”, he finally said, a little hesitant, his voice quieter than usual.

“Back then?”, you laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You mean five years ago, when you left without a word? Disappeared like none of it mattered?”.

His expression softened, and he glanced away, jaw tightening. “Look, (Y/N), it’s… it’s complicated”.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you looked Dean up and down, letting the silence settle between you. The discomfort in his face was almost satisfying, but it didn’t ease the ache in your chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Sam giving you a small, awkward wave, clearly recognizing you too. He looked between you and Dean, shifting on his feet.

“Uh, yeah… I, um, need to use the restroom”, Sam mumbled, flashing an apologetic smile before slipping away, clearly eager to avoid whatever confrontation was brewing between you and his brother.

“Complicated”, you repeated, letting the word hang heavy between you. “That’s all you’ve got after all this time?”.

He flinched, looking up to meet your eyes, and for the first time, you saw something raw there, a vulnerability he hadn’t let you see back then.

“(Y/N), I know it sounds like an excuse���, he began, his voice dropping low, careful, like he didn’t want anyone to overhear what he was about to say. “But I had no choice. My dad… he needed me, and we had a job to do. I couldn’t stay, couldn’t keep you in that mess”.

You scoffed, trying to brush off the way his words still managed to stir something deep inside you, that same helpless longing you’d tried so hard to bury. “Right”, you mumbled, voice thick with the bitterness you’d been carrying. “So you just left, thinking it’d be better for me. Meanwhile, I was left to… to deal with the fact that I fell for you, Dean. Fell hard, too”.

He looked up, his expression softening with surprise and guilt, but you pressed on, feeling the words rush out, bitter and relentless.

“You waltzed in, got under my skin, made me believe… Fuck. I was such an idiot”. You shook your head, feeling the sting of it, years after you’d tried to laugh it off, to forget. “Every guy after you didn’t stand a chance, you know that? No one ever got close because, no matter what I told myself, I couldn’t get you out of my head. You twisted me up so bad in those few weeks, like some lovesick kid, just waiting for someone who never even bothered to say goodbye”.

Dean’s shoulders dropping slightly as he listened, as if your words were pressing down on him. He didn’t look away, though—he let you speak, let you throw every hurt and frustration at him without backing down. When you finally stopped, breath catching in your throat, he exhaled, like he was trying to find something, anything, to say that might make this better.

“(Y/N)”, he started, voice rough. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to come back, to give you some kind of answer. But I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to leave again. And my life, this life I was born into… it wasn’t fair to pull you into it. It wasn’t fair to you”.

You shook your head, fighting the sting of tears, refusing to let him see just how deep this still hurt. “So you just decided for me? Dean, I’m not some fragile thing. I could’ve handled it”.

Dean sighed heavily, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck, frustration and regret etched into his face. “Hell, (Y/N), you were only sixteen at the time. Sixteen. You were… you were just a kid. You wouldn't have been able to handle it”, he murmured, the words coming out almost reluctantly, like admitting them hurt as much as hearing them.

Your voice came out sharper than you intended, laced with every bit of bitterness and hurt you’d kept buried for years. “What, old enough to get fucked but not old enough to be talked to?”.

Dean flinched, the words hitting him like a slap. For a second, he didn’t look up, the guilt and shame clear on his face as he shifted uncomfortably, searching for the right words. “That… that’s not what I wanted it to be”, he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never wanted you to feel used, like it didn’t mean anything. Because it did… you meant something to me, (Y/N). More than I knew how to handle back then”.

Dean took a deep breath, his gaze shifting to the floor again as he struggled with words he couldn’t seem to say. The regret was clear in his eyes, the weight of things left unsaid hanging heavy between you.

You could almost see the thoughts playing out in his mind, the memories stirring. Back then, you’d been the only girl to ever make him feel something real—something beyond the easy, shallow hookups he’d drowned himself in afterward. Every girl since had been nothing more than a distraction, a way to bury the ache that losing you had left behind. But with you… it had always been different. You were the one he could never quite forget.

But none of that slipped past his lips. Instead, he stood there, wrestling with the weight of his own silence, unable to give you the honesty you deserved. Maybe he feared it would only hurt you more, or maybe he knew that nothing he said would make this right.

Finally, he looked up, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet, almost desperate plea. “You’re right. You deserved so much better than what I gave you. I thought about coming back more times than I can count. Thought about finding you, explaining… But every time, I stopped myself. Figured you’d moved on, that you were happier without me dragging you down. And… I was scared”. He laughed softly, bitterly. “I was scared of exactly this. Of seeing how much I’d hurt you”.

His words hit you like a wave, but you kept your expression steady, refusing to let the hurt show again.

You sighed, feeling the weight of all those years settle in your chest, a bittersweet ache you’d learned to live with but never really let go of. “I thought so highly of you back then, Dean”, you murmured, a hint of bitterness creeping into your tone. “I guess I was just a stupid little girl, thinking you were… I don’t know, some kind of hero”.

Your gaze flickered over him, taking in the familiar jawline, the strong shoulders, the way he still carried himself with that careless confidence. He looked so much the same that it hurt—like no time had passed at all, like he hadn’t been the ghost haunting your memories, the person you’d tried to convince yourself you were over. And yet, here he was, just as handsome, and the old ache you thought you’d buried crept back in, uninvited and relentless.

Dean looked away, swallowing hard, like your words struck something raw in him. When he met your eyes again, he looked almost small, a shadow of the confident guy you’d known, as if every regret he carried had finally caught up to him.

“You weren’t stupid, (Y/N)”, he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You saw something in me I couldn’t see in myself. And maybe I didn’t deserve it. Hell, I know I didn’t. But you were never stupid for believing in me. You were… you were just too good for someone like me. Still are”.

The honesty in his voice was like a knife, cutting through every defense you’d built. You’d wanted him to admit what he’d done, to see how he’d hurt you, but hearing it now, hearing him lay it out in plain words, didn’t bring the satisfaction you’d imagined. It only left a hollow ache where your anger had been.

Dean watched you, his gaze softening as the anger in your eyes began to fade, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable. You’d spent years thinking he was just another guy who wanted what he could get and didn’t care who he hurt to get it. A fling, a mistake, a heartbreak that was yours alone to carry. But as you looked at him now, the regret in his face, the years of silence suddenly seemed to make a little more sense. Maybe it hadn’t been so simple after all.

You could almost see him back then, barely nineteen, just a kid himself, weighed down by responsibilities he never asked for.

-Flashback-

The sun was barely breaking over the horizon that day, casting a dim light across the worn-down motel room they’d been staying in for the past weeks. Dean had just started to drift back to sleep after another restless night when he heard his dad. He groaned, barely cracking his eyes open as his dad’s voice cut through the motel room.

“Dean! Get your ass up, we’re moving out in ten!”.

Dean shot up, a surge of panic replacing the sleep in his veins. “What? Now?”, he mumbled, scrambling out of bed, his heart sinking. They weren’t supposed to leave this town for at least a few more days—long enough for him to say goodbye, to figure out how to explain things to you without breaking every promise he’d made. Long enough to try to leave things right, to tell you why he couldn’t stay.

But John was already packing, barely glancing at him as he tossed weapons into duffel bags, his movements efficient, mechanical. “Got a new job lined up. No time to waste”. He gave Dean a hard look, that unyielding gaze Dean knew better than to question. “You knew we wouldn’t be here forever, son. It’s time to go”.

Dean swallowed hard, dread clawing at him as he glanced over at Sam, who was shoving his clothes into a bag, already resigned to the drill of their lives, even at fifteen. But this time, leaving didn’t feel like any of the others.

He’d thought he had more time with you. Thought maybe he’d found something real, something worth hanging onto, in the middle of all this chaos. He thought maybe you’d understand, maybe you’d wait. Or at least, that he could tell you the truth. That you were more than a distraction from a life that had always felt too heavy for him.

Dean swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he tried to gather the courage to push back, to buy himself just a little more time. He cast a quick glance at his dad, trying to keep his tone casual, like it was no big deal.

“Can’t we at least wait until tomorrow? There’s… there’s something I need to take care of”, he mumbled, hoping that his dad might, for once, let him have this.

But John scoffed, barely pausing in his packing as he tossed another weapon into the duffel. “A thing to take care of?”. He looked up, his mouth twisting into a bitter, sarcastic grin. “Let me guess… that girl. The one who’s got you sneaking around like some lovesick little puppy”.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, his heart sinking as he caught the mocking gleam in his father’s eyes. “It’s not like that”, he said, though even he could hear the weak protest in his voice.

“Sure it isn’t”. John’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he shook his head, chuckling darkly. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to, Dean? I told you weeks ago to cut ends with her. You think this life has room for little Miss Perfect? Some snob who thinks she’s too good for all of this?”.

Dean clenched his fists, his pulse racing as he fought the urge to defend you, to say that you weren’t like that—that you weren’t some spoiled girl who thought herself better than their life. But he knew better than to argue. He’d heard this tone before, the edge that warned him that any pushback would only make things worse.

John went on, shaking his head with an incredulous laugh. “Can’t believe you’re even thinking about her right now. Thought I raised you better than that, son. No girl—especially not some high school princess—is worth dragging yourself through the mud for. What, you think you stand a chance of keeping her? That she’d stick around if she knew the real you? Give me a damn break”.

Dean’s face burned with anger and shame, his heart twisting at the casual cruelty in his father’s voice. He wanted to yell, to tell him that you weren’t just some fling, that you mattered. But every instinct he’d been raised with told him to keep his mouth shut, to hold his feelings tight, because showing them would only lead to disappointment, to the same disapproval he’d grown up under.

John’s gaze hardened, his expression turning cold as he looked Dean up and down, unimpressed. “Get your head out of the clouds, Dean. No piece of ass is worth it, and I’ll tell you right now—no girl’s worth going soft for. Not in this life. So pack up, and let’s go. You’re not risking everything just because you’re chasing after some girl who doesn’t belong here”.

Dean felt a sting in his chest, a hollow ache settling in as he fought to keep his expression steady, to hide just how much those words hurt. In that moment, he realized that arguing would only make things worse, that his dad would never understand. So he swallowed the hurt, burying it as he always did, and forced himself to keep his voice steady, distant.

“Yes, sir”, he muttered, voice barely more than a whisper, feeling the words settle like stones in his gut. He didn’t look up as he zipped his duffel bag shut, his throat tight as he wrestled with the urge to run out the door, to find you, to tell you goodbye.

But he stayed. He let his father’s words sink in, let them mold around his heart like armor. And when he finally climbed into the Impala, eyes fixed on the road ahead, he forced himself to believe what John had said—that you’d be better off without him, that whatever you’d shared was only a distraction from a life he’d never be free from.

As they pulled out of town, he forced himself not to look back, to focus on the road, on the only life he’d ever known. But the image of you, the sound of your laughter, the warmth you’d brought to his life lingered in his mind, haunting him like a ghost he’d never truly escape.

-End of the flashback-

Dean’s eyes flickered back up to you, and you could see the anger and disappointment simmering there, shadows of the memories that had clearly never left him. His father’s words, that hard, dismissive scorn, lingered in the depths of his gaze, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of the pain he’d buried all those years ago.

“I wanted to say goodbye”, he mumbled, almost to himself, the words barely making it past his lips. There was a heaviness in his tone, the regret palpable, and for a brief moment, he looked like that nineteen-year-old kid again, held back by forces he’d been powerless to resist.

Without another word, he drained the rest of his whiskey, his fingers tightening around the glass before he set it down. Then, with a quiet sigh, he rose to his feet, pulling his jacket on, the same guarded, closed-off look returning to his face. You felt the ache in your chest deepen as he moved, like he was preparing to leave you behind all over again.

He took a long breath, his gaze drifting over you, lingering in a way that seemed almost painful for him. You could see the conflict in his eyes, a war waging between the urge to stay and the instinct to leave—to protect you from the life he couldn’t escape. Even after all these years, there was something raw and vulnerable in the way he looked at you, as if seeing you now hurt just as much as leaving you had.

You saw his eyes trace over your face, lingering for a moment too long, taking you in as if trying to memorize you all over again. The softness in his gaze twisted something inside you, a reminder of what you’d once shared, of the way he’d looked at you when he thought no one else was watching.

“You know”, he said, his voice low, almost hesitant, “you’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen”. He paused, catching himself, a bittersweet smile pulling at his lips. “Well… woman, by now”.

You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, but you held his gaze, feeling the weight of his words, the years of unspoken things between you. It was the truth, you realized—the same honesty he’d kept hidden all those years ago. But there was a sadness there too, an ache that told you he didn’t think he could ever give you what you deserved.

“Dean”, you whispered, stepping closer, searching his face. “You don’t have to leave again".

He clenched his jaw, glancing away for a second, wrestling with himself, his hands clenching in the pockets of his jacket. “I want to stay. Hell, I want nothing more than to stay“.

Without thinking, Dean reached out, his hand warm as it cupped your face, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. He held you like you were something fragile, something he was afraid to let go of but equally afraid to keep holding onto. His gaze softened, his voice dropping to a whisper, rough and broken. “But I do have to leave, sweetheart”, he murmured, almost like he was convincing himself. “I always have to leave”.

The word slipped from his lips, “sweetheart”, and in an instant, you were sixteen all over again.

-Flashback-

The rain had come out of nowhere, heavy drops pelting down in sheets, turning the quiet evening into a storm as you and Dean huddled under the diner’s awning, laughing as you watched the parking lot become a sea of puddles. He was supposed to be walking you home after sharing a couple of milkshakes and a basket of fries, each of you pretending it wasn’t a date but knowing it was.

The rain showed no signs of letting up, and Dean glanced down the street, then back at you, running a hand through his damp hair as he chuckled. “Guess that puts a dent in my plans of playing gentleman and walking you home”.

You smiled, half-shivering as the wind picked up. “I’d say your plans were doomed from the start”.

He laughed, that easy, genuine laugh you’d already grown to love in the few days you’d known him. Then his gaze shifted toward the motel just down the road, a short, drenched run from where you stood. He hesitated, as if deciding whether to risk suggesting it, then shrugged. “We’re just five minutes from where I’m staying… probably closer than your place. Why don’t we wait it out there? Just until the rain lets up”.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm despite the cold, and with that unspoken agreement, you broke into a run together, both of you soaked within seconds as you sprinted down the empty street. By the time you stumbled inside his dingy motel room, breathless and laughing, you were dripping wet, water pooling around your feet as you shook out your arms and tried to wring out your hair.

“Looks like we didn’t exactly outrun the storm”, you teased, brushing a strand of soaked hair from your face as you looked around the cramped room, your nerves setting in as the reality of being alone with him settled over you.

Dean grinned, pulling off his jacket and tossing it over a chair. His own hair was plastered to his forehead, and water dripped from the collar of his T-shirt, but he looked at you with that familiar, slightly mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Guess not. But you know, there are worse places to be”.

There was a pause, a stillness that settled between you, the laughter fading as you met his gaze, the dim light from the single lamp casting a soft glow over his face. You saw something shift in his expression, a quiet vulnerability that made your heart race as he took a hesitant step toward you.

Without thinking, you closed the distance, your breaths mingling as you both moved closer, the world outside the room slipping away. Dean’s hand lifted, his fingers tracing along your jawline, gentle but deliberate, like he was afraid of scaring you off. His thumb brushed over your cheek, leaving a trail of warmth that made you shiver, and he leaned in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

“Is this okay?”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze searching yours.

You nodded, too lost in the moment to speak, and that was all he needed.

He closed the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft, almost hesitant, like he was still holding back, afraid to take more than he was allowed. But as you melted into him, as your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his hand slipped to the small of your back, the kiss deepened, the world fading to nothing but the feel of him, the warmth of his touch.

His other hand tangled in your damp hair, pulling you closer as if he needed this as much as you did. The intensity of it surprised you, the way he kissed you like you were something he’d been searching for but hadn’t dared to hope he’d find. You felt every unspoken word, every promise he couldn’t make, in the way his hands held you, in the way his lips moved with yours.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and a little dazed, he looked at you with a softness you hadn’t seen before, a quiet reverence that made your heart ache. “You’re… something else, Sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, a confession that felt like a secret he hadn’t meant to share.

The rain outside was forgotten, the cold fading as you looked at him, feeling, in that moment, that he was the only person in the world.

-End of the flashback-

The memory faded, but the feeling lingered, that same warmth flooding your chest even now, five years later. Standing here with him, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, the years between you seemed to vanish, leaving only that undeniable pull that had drawn you to him back then—the one that still left you breathless.

Dean’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand still cradling your face, his touch just as tender, just as careful as it had been that night. You felt the years of anger and hurt begin to unravel, slipping away in the quiet, unspoken apology in his gaze. Even now, after everything, he still had the power to make you feel like that sixteen-year-old girl, standing in the glow of his attention, melting under the weight of his presence.

Dean’s gaze held yours, his thumb tracing one last gentle line over your cheek, the faintest tremor in his touch. His voice, low and rough, barely broke through the silence as he murmured, “But this time… you get a goodbye”. His words hung in the air, laced with a finality that tugged painfully at your heart. His hand slipped away, falling slowly, as though he were reluctant to break the connection, and you felt the warmth of his touch linger on your skin even after it was gone.

Just then, you saw movement from the corner of your eye, and Sam stepped out from where he’d been standing a little way off, his presence cautious, like he was unsure if this was the right moment to interrupt. His gaze flicked between you and Dean, a mixture of concern and understanding in his eyes.

Dean glanced over at his brother, his jaw tightening briefly, then gave a short nod as if signaling that it was time. Sam shifted, visibly uncomfortable, but nodded back, clearly catching onto something unspoken between them.

You looked at Dean, your chest heavy, a thousand words hovering on the edge of your lips, none of them able to break the ache settling inside you. He was here now, right in front of you, and yet it felt like he was already gone again, slipping through your fingers like he always had.

“Dean…”, you began, your voice barely more than a whisper, not even sure what you wanted to say—only that the thought of him leaving, of watching him disappear one more time, felt unbearable.

Dean’s gaze lingered on you, his expression a mix of longing and regret. He gave you that small, sad smile again, the one that barely reached his eyes but held a world of unspoken words. "Take care, sweetheart", he murmured, his voice rough, each syllable feeling like a farewell he wasn’t quite ready to give. He brushed his fingers lightly over your arm, the touch so soft it sent goosebumps skittering across your skin, a reminder of the warmth he’d once brought into your life, now bittersweet and fading too quickly.

He turned to leave, his back already to you, and something inside you snapped—an urge, a need to hold onto this moment, to keep him here just a second longer. Without thinking, you reached out, your hand catching his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He turned back, surprise flickering in his eyes as he looked down at you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance between you.

Rising onto your toes, you slid your hand up to the back of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. His breath catching as you pulled him down, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft yet fierce, filled with the years of longing and questions you’d never had the chance to voice. He hesitated, just for a heartbeat, and then his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he returned the kiss with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, as his lips moved with yours, slow and purposeful, as if trying to make up for all the lost time in this one stolen moment. The world around you faded, the sounds of the bar, the ticking clock, all slipping away as you sank into him, feeling the strength of his arms, the familiarity of his touch. You felt his heart beating against yours, strong and steady, grounding you in a way only he ever had.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his, breath mingling in the small space between you. His gaze was softened, his expression more vulnerable than you’d ever seen, as though he was as taken by surprise as you were by the depth of what had just passed between you.

“That’s a proper goodbye”, you whispered, a faint blush coloring your cheeks despite yourself, but you held his gaze, not wanting to break the connection.

His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, a glint of that familiar warmth sparking in his eyes. You reached into your bag, your fingers brushing against the worn card you always kept there—a small, simple card from your bookstore, printed with your name and number. You handed it to him, your hand lingering as he took it from you, his fingers brushing yours in a touch that felt both comforting and electric.

“Call me”, you said softly, barely above a whisper, your voice carrying a warmth and a hope you hadn’t let yourself feel in years. “When you’re around again… I’ll pay you back with a milkshake”.

He looked down at the card in his hand, tracing his thumb over the print before glancing back at you, a mixture of amusement and something deeper in his eyes. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just held your gaze, as if committing this moment, this feeling, to memory.

Finally, he nodded, tucking the card carefully into his pocket. “I’ll hold you to that”, he said, his voice low, a promise wrapped in that quiet tone.

With one last lingering look, he turned, his hand trailing down your arm until his fingers slipped away. And as he left, you felt a strange sense of peace settle in your chest, a hope that maybe this time, things wouldn’t end with silence and an empty space where he’d been. The ache was still there, but it was softened by the warmth of his touch, his kiss, and the quiet promise that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 Not gonna lie.. I think this is my favorite so far

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[thanksbutno98]

I’ll Handle It

John Price x fem!reader

Authors note: This one is heavy. I really recommend you read the warnings before diving in.

Warning: angst, misogyny, toxic men, illusions to sexual assault, violence, illusion to death, pregnancy, mentions of child birth, labor complications, not edited.

Summary: After being on maternity leave you finally find yourself back at work. Still traumatized by the life threatening labor you find yourself being the object of gossip between some men in your office. Desperately wishing your husband John Price would not get involved.

————-

“Well look who’s finally back.” The melodic tone of Penny’s voice came from just over your shoulder. Before you could fully turn around to greet her she already had her slender arms wrapped around your neck. Her bright red hair brushing against your cheek you felt your heart swell seeing her sweet green eyes and freckled face. Hugging you by the side the pair of you letting out small chuckles and hugging a few seconds longer than needed.

“Happy to be back?” With a thick Yorkshire accent she asked, pulling away. Moving only slightly so she could fix herself a cup of coffee.

“I’ve missed work so much.” You half smiled. Stirring the black plastic straw around the paper cup, your heart ached slightly. You two chatted about everything you had missed and Penny’s latest project.

It had been six months since you welcomed your daughter into the world and it was hard leaving her for the first time. Evelyn and Jj were both at home with your husbands parents, because John had been deployed to another war torn country two months ago. It was hard leaving your baby girl and you wept like a child the whole way to work.

“How do you look that good after having a baby, Indy?” Another familiar voice joined the conversation. Turning you half leapt into Angela’s arms so happy to see your work friends. She hugged you back, brushing her pin straight jet black hair behind her ears as she grasped you by the shoulders and looked you over.

Angela was a tall, extremely attractive woman with beautiful dark complexion and striking hazel eyes. You and Penny liked to tell her she could quit her job and be a model. She was the department head for Anthropology so she was a pretty important woman. She was at the same level as your boss, Sampson. She was a few years older than you and tended to be protective of the women around her. Angela knew how some of the men could be here and had taken Penny under her wing since Penny was fresh out of her studies. Penny was also an intern for you and you had given her a stellar recommendation.

“Working out and running.” You lied. Stepping away and grabbing the blue file you had left on the break room counter.

If people didn’t know you they wouldn’t have guessed you had a baby within the last six months. It had nothing to do with diet or exercise. It was due to almost not surviving the labor.

Having Evelyn was a traumatic experience that left you in the hospital far longer than any mother wanted due to blood loss and preeclampsia. John and your family were told to expect the worst after the delivery; that you may not be coming home. John was a wreck as he was forced out of the delivery room having to be dragged out by security. To this day he still became eerily quiet when the subject was brought up.

It was a little over a week before you were finally released and allowed to go home. You had lost so much weight and that trend continued as you fell into one of the saddest times of your life. The guilt of being so traumatized by everything left you a shell of yourself. Unable to care for yourself let alone your children. You stayed curled up in bed and only getting up to breast feed or use the bathroom. The doctors said postpartum depression was normal but you never imagined it to be so debilitating. John insisted on regular doctors visits not knowing what to do when his normally positive, ray of sunshine wife could not even get out of bed.

John had been by your side every step of the way and truly was your rock in your time of need. He stepped up for you and his family carrying the weight of it all on his broad shoulders. It took two months until you were finally feeling like your normal self again. Finally able to enjoy motherhood to its fullest potential.

It was the hardest time for your marriage and you were no where near ready to talk about the experience at work. Between the memory of thinking you were going to leave John and your children all alone and how traumatic the birth itself was you could not even speak on the subject. It was the most painful and scary thing you had ever experienced and you weren’t sure you’d ever fully recover mentally.

“Well you look amazing.” Penny smiled, handing you half of the danish she snagged. “Still gotta eat.” She smiled sweetly. You happily enjoyed the flaky treat as you three caught up. Talking about the latest finds and gossiping about Angela’s new gentleman.

“Mornin’ Indy!” Clark one of your colleagues walked into the break room with two other men in toe. You didn’t recognize them but that was not too unbelievable. Penny whispered they were the interns. The institution you worked for was large and heavily male dominated. It would be a miracle if you could remember everyone who worked here let alone your department.

“Morning.” You smiled cheerfully. You were reaching your cap on social interaction for the morning so you said your goodbyes and headed for your office. Grabbing one more pastry to snack on.

“Who’s that? She’s got quite the rack.” One of the men asked Clark. Penny believed his name was Lance.

“You should have seen her before she got pregnant.” Clark whistled lightly as if to signify you were quite the sight.

“Oi, don’t be rude.” Angela interrupted rather forcefully.

“Pigs.” Penny added. Leaving in a huff, she glanced over her shoulder to see Angela still scolding the unprofessional behavior they had overheard.

——————

“Don’t you look gorgeous. God, I miss you.” John’s gruff voice echoed through your bedroom. Shifting you pushed the laptop down your lap slightly so you could get more comfortable. It was close to 3am but you didn’t mind. You finally had the opportunity to catch up with John.

“Your beards so scruffy.” You smiled, nose scrunching, giddy to finally get to see your husband even if it was through a laptop screen. He was sitting at a desk in what looked like a storage closet, clearly finding the most secluded place to make this video call. It made you wonder if he was going to try and get away with something naughty like your last video call.

“Can’t wait to be home next week and shave it.” John pursed his lips and smoothed down the unruly, overgrown hair. You could tell he was staring at himself because he peered at the screen and showed you the bit of grey that was just starting to peak out on the underside of his chin.

“I love a salt and pepper man.” You grinned and winked. Making John roll his eyes and snort out a sarcastic laugh.

“Been back at work three days now. How you holding up?” John changed the subject. His face going back to the stoic expression you were use to but his eyes were soft. Head tilted to the side the sternness washing away to a love struck look.

“Look at your remembering. It’s okay. Miss Evie and Jj every time I step out of the house.” You paused, playing with your hair and wondering if you should share everything that was going on. His mother had been driving you crazy but that was not new news.

“That all? You have that look like you’re hiding something.” John’s blue eyes looked darker in the laptop screen as he narrowed them at you.

“Me? Never-“

“Y/N, you can talk to me about whatever’s on your mind. I know you must be lonely.” John spoke sincerely. Ever since you were home from the hospital John had been in tune with you. It freaked you out a bit how watchful he was but he needed to be at the time. Clearly being thousands of miles away didn’t stop that part of him.

John was more worried you were struggling without him and the guilt that came along with that made his chest tight. His mind always wandering back to you being so sick in the hospital and then struggling to get out of bed once you were home. All he hoped was that you were okay and his parents were helping you manage it all.

“I love you.” The words rolled off your tongue tasting bittersweet. John cared about you so much and you had no desire to make him worry about you. Not now, when he needed to worry about keeping himself safe.

“Love you too. Now get on with it.” John smiled sweetly the corners of his eyes crinkling. You took a breath and then began your story.

“Since I got back there’s a few new people. One guy seems to have gotten a bit smitten with me and it’s making me uncomfortable. He’s probably just being friendly and I’m reading into it too much.” You shrugged it off. It did feel good to get it off your chest especially to John. No one listened to you quite like he did. It was like he would hang on your every word.

“Trust your gut, darling. If he makes you feel uneasy steer clear. What has he done?” John asked with an even tone. He didn’t want you to know how his blood pressure instantly spiked at the new found knowledge. Fists clenched off screen until his knuckles turned white; he waited patiently for your words.

“I guess it’s not really what he’s done. I’ve just caught him staring at my chest a few times and Penny told me him and Clark made a few crude remarks about me.” Rolling your eyes you brought your gaze to the window. It was easier to avoid John’s piercing eyes at the moment. You knew this was upsetting to hear. Hell you were livid when Penny told you and you knew no husband wanted their wife being the object of other men’s disgusting banter.

“Crude remarks? Like what?” John knew you well enough that you were withholding details as to not upset him.

“John, it’s not worth repeating. You know how some men are pigs.” You tried to reason but could see he had no intention on stopping until you answered truthfully.

“I’m not going to get upset. I’d prefer to know what these men are saying just in case.” John tried to make his voice sound reassuring but he sounded and looked like he was about to snap someone’s neck.

“In case of what?” You challenged. Not to sure you should continue.

“Y/N.” John’s face dropped into a deadpan expression. He wasn’t use to any back talk at the moment so his patience was non existent. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes knowing your husband was not going to drop the issue. He put up with your stubbornness so now it was time for you to put up with his.

“Fine, they made some remarks about my breasts being bigger now that I’ve had Evie. And . . . Well that new guy asked if I was one of those desperate military wives looking for some fun and if he had a chance.” You babbled the last portion of your rant out so hopefully John did not quite hear you properly. From the look on his face you could tell he did. All preconceived niceties were thrown out the window as you watched John’s lip twitch and nostrils flare. It looked like he was ready to crawl through the screen and go hunt these guys down.

“He what? You need to speak to HR.” John demanded a little to forceful for your liking. His voice deepening to such a low gravely tone you were convinced it had to hurt his throat.

“I already spoke with Angela about it and she said she’s handling it.”

“Darling, if you need more time off I think everyone will understand.” John was being pushy now. This was an argument you two had too many times and he insisted you were not ready to go back to work.

“No, I want to go back to normal. I’ve missed work and I need something more than just being a mom. It’s so lonely being at home all by myself with the kids. And you know how your mother is. I’d be miserable.” You couldn’t help the way your voice cracked. A painful swell of tears pushing into your eyes no matter how hard you fought them.

“One more week and you’ll have me back.” The tone of John’s voice was strained as you watched worry paint over his rugged features.

“I’m counting the days.” Your head hung low as you coughed back the tears.

“Now c’mon, love. No tears.” John pleaded hating that you were crying and he had to start saying his goodbyes.

“Sorry, I just miss you so much.” You hiccuped out, rubbing away the burning tears.

“I miss you every second of every day.”

——————

Closing your eyes you softly sang along with the music playing in your car. Doing a funky little dance and waving the last bit of your sandwich in the air. Taking another bite of your sandwich you grabbed at the soda you got yourself. You had forgotten your lunch at home for the second time this week so you ditched the cafeteria food and went out and got takeout from your favorite spot near by.

You had been feeling nervous and excited all day because after work you were picking John up from the airport. You kept imaging his chapped lips and strong arms. How he would tell you how divine you looked all dolled up for him. You made sure to wear your cutest work outfit and did your hair and makeup with a lot more effort than you normally put in for work.

You knew you looked cute in your slim, knee length black dress with long sleeves and the pair of black pumps. Deciding to wear the gold jewelry set John had gifted you throughout the years. The small gold hoops, sparkling gold bracelet, and thin gold chain with a small diamond looked amazing as a trio. It brought more attention to the much larger diamond on your wedding ring.

“Fuck.” You cursed.

Looking at the clock then down at your skirt that was decorated in crumbs. Brushing away the mess you were relieved to see nothing had stained as you shoved a way to big last bite into your mouth. Taking one last sip of the carbonated beverage you quickly got moving. You had to get to a meeting in ten minutes and you knew you would be cutting it close.

After grabbing your purse and locking your car you began fast walking to the stair case of the parking garage. You promised yourself you would take the stairs since you had stopped working out since John left. Using your hip you opened the heavy grey door as you shot a quick text to Penny saying you were ‘cutting it close’ and asking her to grab the file off your desk. You were too busy typing out the message while you reached the fourth floor landing you walked straight into someone.

“I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have been on my ph-“ you paused feeling the air still in the concrete room. It was a gut reaction to immediately feel fearful. You didn’t know why you just did.

“Not a problem.” Lance the new employee working with Clark smiled oddly. Why was he looking at you like that?

Lance was a tall man, maybe John’s height or a bit taller. He was built like a house and at least five years younger than you. His physique reminded you of Ghosts that one time you met him. He had sickly pale skin and a mop of red hair neatly combed back. Some women may say he was attractive but he wasn’t your type. You hated being around him after Penny told you the things him and Clark had gossiped about you. You could only imagine what they said when the two of them were out of ear shot of anyone.

“What’s got you all dolled up today.” Lance stood in the middle of the landing so you would have to ask him to move or awkwardly scoot around him if you wanted to take the last flight of stairs up to your office.

“Sorry, I-I don’t have time to chat. I’m going to be late for a meeting.” You attempted to move around the built man but he stepped in the way. His hand coming up to your face as if to cup your cheek. You couldn’t help but flinch and step backward blurting out a quick ‘no.’

“You have some food on your face, love.” Lance’s voice was soft and sweet in a condescending way.

That’s when you felt the menacing tension as his dark eyes looked at you like something for the taking. like you were the spoils of war. You were all alone in a concrete stairwell with a man who had said crude things about you. More importantly he was a man you had no amount of trust in. Now he was trying to touch you in a way only John and your female friends were allowed to. Up until now he had been perfectly friendly but that was when others were around.

“I got it.” You stepped back again feeling the cold radiating off the wall that was only an inch from your back. You told yourself if you back touched that wall you were in immediate danger. You pushed his hand away in the same motion and wiped your mouth with the back of your dress sleeve. Seeing a little white smear on the back of the black fabric, realizing you had a tiny bit on mayo on the corner of your mouth.

“Looked nice there, if I’m honest. Something else might look better.” Lance stepped forward.

His insinuation had a cold chill run up your spine, your back pressing into the frigid concrete wall. Heart thumping loudly you swore you could hear John’s gruff voice in your head telling you to ditch the heels and run. But you were not sure you could out run this man who was so much taller and bigger than you. You were scared and it made you angry being cornered in such a secluded place at work.

“You listen to me right now! This is inappropriate, I suggest you move. I’m late for a meeting.” Using your most commanding voice you attempted to side step Lance for the second time but had to halt immediately. His large hand pressing into the cool concrete wall by your head as he trapped you between the corner of the stair well and his arm. Now you were beginning to shake feeling like he was about to snatch you up. Like a mouse who has just been cornered by a cat and it was ready to play with its food.

“C’mon, I bet you’re lonely with your husband always gone. Don’t you want a man who can satisfy you all the time?” Lance continued to speak crude words. You forced yourself to stare him in the eyes as you slowly slipped out of your heels, he didn’t seem to notice. He was to focused on the way your lips quivered in fear and your rapid blinking.

Just then the door opened on the floor above you, the metal squealing loudly. Lance looked over his shoulder to peer up the stairs. Swiftly and with all the power you had in your body you kneed him in the groin and shoved him back. He stumbled backward, a loud grunt and then a stream of coughs leaving him as he crumpled to the floor. Leaving your heels behind you booked it down the stairs and back to your car. Jumping the last few stars until you saw floor three. You were in a dead sprint as you got back to the third floor where your car was parked.

Hands shaking so violently you dropped your keys once you were at your car. Accidentally scraping the paint around the lock as you finally inserted the key and twisted. You half threw yourself in the car slamming the door behind you and locking it. You had your phone in your hand this whole time so you immediately were pulling up your contact list not quite sure who to call since John was not home. With a short breath you clicked on the name your thumb was hovering over. Pressing the phone to your ear you were staring out your window waiting for Lance to come running after you, thanking god John had tinted your windows and put pepper spray in your glove compartment.

“Y/N, was literally just talking about y-“

“Harrison, you have to come get me from work I’m in the car park. Right now, I’m too shaken up to drive.” You didn’t even realize you were sobbing into the phone until you felt your nose running. You felt like you were about to be sick as your chest heaved violently. Panic coursing through your veins you could feel the blood pulsing in your temples and wrists.

“Woah, woah, woah. I’m coming right now. What’s going on?” Harrison was John’s oldest brother and you knew he lived near by your work. You two would grab lunch from time to time. All you could hear in your head was John’s voice telling you to stay vigilant and not let your guard down.

“Some guy, Lance. Just, just come get me please.” You were still sobbing unable to catch your breath as you watched the stair well door intently.

“You get that spot on the third floor you like?” Harrison asked. You could hear his his car starting in the background and let out a deep sigh, knowing he was less than five minutes away.

“Yes!” You half yelled watching as the heavy door to the stairwell opened.

Out stepped Sampson of all people, your boss. Without even thinking you hung up on Harrison and got out of the car. You were shaking like a leaf and in all the years Sampson knew you he had never seen you cry. For any person to be crying like this was alarming and for it to be you he was scared for your safety.

“What the hell is going on?” Sampson was still in his lab coat as he strutted over to you with urgency.

“Lance, he cornered me in the stair well. So I kneed him and ran.” You forced yourself to pull it together but your words came out jumbled and high pitched. Black streaks of mascara running down your face.

“Are you hurt?” Sampson asked his hand hovering by your shoulder not sure if he should touch you. You didn’t answer only shook your head that Lance had not hurt you.

“He didn’t get a chance to touch me. Cuz someone came in.” You placed your hands on your hips, eyes trained on your bare feet against the rough ground. You were trying to catch your breath and calm your racing heart. Doing similar breathing exercises as when you gave birth because it was all you could do on instinct.

“That was me. Called security when I saw him curled up on the ground. Good thing I came looking for you. Penny said you ran out for lunch so I had a feeling you’d be here.” Sampson was frantically looking between you and the door not sure what to do next. The squeal of tires echoed through the car park as you watched Harrison’s black Ford Fiesta swing around the corner and come to a screeching halt next to you.

“I’m going with Harrison. I can’t be here.” You didn’t even give Sampson a chance to speak as you walked backwards to the car.

“You Lance?” Harrison was getting out of the car and you could see he had the intention to break legs. He had a baseball bat in hand so you quickly took it from him scolding him that he was just like John and violence wasn’t necessary.

“No, he’s with security.” Sampson said quickly taking three large steps back as Harrison approached him.

Harrison and John looked eerily similar but John was muscular and looked like he was carved from stone. Harrison was a bit on the chubby side but not quite, never had facial hair, let his hair grow long on top and his voice was no where near as deep as your husbands. Their protective instincts were the same.

The only difference being John would have had a gun instead of a baseball bat. Climbing into the car you watched as Harrison got all the details he could from Sampson before he finally got back in the car to take you home. Allowing you to cry the whole way even pulling over at one point because you had to throw up. Then stopping to get you a soft drink to help yourself from continuing to vomit.

——————

“So why couldn’t Y/N get me from the airport?” This was the third time John had asked the question since his brother had been dodging it.

“Ah, stuff came up.” Harrison deflected pulling into the driveway of your family home.

“Harrison, what am I about to walk into?” John demanded this time. Between being exhausted and the change in plans John was pissed off to say the least. All he wanted was to see his loving wife after a grueling two and a half months. He had just seen some horrible things on this deployment and they were weighing heavy on him. Your sweet smile and warm embrace would start to heal the invisible wounds.

“Look, Y/N made me promise not to tell you. But I think you have a right to know.” Harrison purposefully parked his car behind John’s truck so he could not leave in it. Harrison took a deep breath before as he told John the whole story.

“Some bloke named Lance cornered her at work. From what she said it seemed like she was lucky someone walked into the stairwell before anything could happen to her. She called me crying, I came with a bat. This cunt was ready to do something to her, Johnny. I know it. By the way she sobbed. Even had to pull over to let her be sick.” Harrison kept his eyes on his younger brother. Face pained as he retold the events.

Harrison watched as John had an expressionless face, it was worrying. John stayed silent as he felt the rage quake through his bones, he was going to kill this guy. John could feel it in the back of his head, his hairs standing of edge. The idea of going upstairs and grabbing the .22 he kept in the safe and tracking this guy down. He would not end him quick he would make this piece of scum suffer. The plotting did not stop as the gears in John’s head turned. Making sure to stay stoic as to not give away his intentions.

“John she specifically told me not to tell you because she was scared you’d do something that wound you up in jail.” Harrison clapped a heavy hand on John’s shoulder.

“Where is she?” John seemed calm and Harrison knew that was not a good sign. He was expecting his brother to lose his god damn mind. This level of composure reminded the man why his brother was a Captain, trained to be composed even in the most dier circumstances.

“Last she said she was going to shower.” Harrison barley finished his sentence before John was out of the car and marching into the house.

John walked right past his mother who was feeding Jj. She shouted for him to come back and give her a proper hello but it fell on deaf ears. John did not even stop to take his boots off. His mother shrieking that he was tracking mud into the house on the freshly mopped floors.

Taking the stairs two by two John could hear the shower running. John was about to burst through the door and demand you tell him what had happened but he hesitated. His fingers twitching around the door knob, the reality hit him like a freight train. His sweet, loving, kind wife who he had almost lost six months ago to child birth was behind this door after almost being harmed by a man he did not know.

John stepped back from the door his hands resting on his hips as he took a deep breath. Coughing out as a way to stop the impeding tears from how angry he was John spat on his own floor. He could not be angry coming in that would only make things worse for you. So John cleaned his spit, kicked off his dirty boots and changed out of his military clothes so he would smell more like home. After mentally preparing himself John slowly turned the crystal doorknob to your shared bathroom.

John took in the mess. Shocked you normally kept things in order. Seeing a black dress laying on the floor, the zipper hanging off clearly having being torn in your haste to get it off. Your new lace underwear set was thrown in the trash and dirty makeup wipes littered the counter. Your tooth brush was laying at the bottom of the running sink with the open toothpaste container.

John turned off the water putting your toothbrush back in place and closing the tooth paste. The linen closet hanging open and the normally neatly folded towels hanging off the shelves and pooling onto the tiles floor. John finally made his way over to the shower. You were sitting under the hot water with your head buried in your knees as you hugged them to your chest. You were in his large white shirt that was sticking to your soaked body.

“Darling?” John slid in ignoring the fact he was getting wet.

“I’m sorry. I tried to get myself back in order before you got home.” You brought your head from your knees to look up at John’s face. Your eyes were puffy from crying and it looked like the light had been drained from you.

Taking in John’s appearance you noticed he had been able to shave his muttonchops back to its pristine shape but he looked worried. Of course he was worried he just walked in to a mess and you curled up at the bottom of the shower.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Let’s get you dried and into some fresh clothes. I’m going to take care of this.” You nodded knowing in the moment Harrison had told John everything.

You were still in shock from the whole ordeal but what scared you the most was going back to work. What if nothing could be done? What if you had to continue to work along side someone who was so blatantly prepared to hurt you? Your head began to swim with worry. Trembling under the steaming water you tried to pull yourself together. For John’s sake.

John was already moving. Walking back into your shared room and gathering fresh underwear, your favorite sweat pants and one of his baggy crewneck sweatshirts. He opened the windows allowing the cold air in so you could bundle up under the covers. John called down the stairs for Harrison to put on a kettle and then John went back to help you out of the shower.

You gave him a weak smile feeling so much shame for having ended up in such a dangerous situation. Slipping out of the soaked tshirt you dried yourself off. John was now handing you your clothes ready to give you privacy to change. The last thing he wanted you to feel was intruded on or like you couldn’t have the the space and time you needed; but you didn’t need those things at the moment. You loved him for allowing you to be in charge of touching and space if needed.

Grabbing John by the hand as he tried to leave you frowned up at him. Tears rolled down your bright red cheeks as you tugged him to come back and not to leave you by yourself. The look in your eyes said it all and John wrapped you in his big arms and hugged you so tightly it was as if he was trying to mold you to his chest. He clenched his teeth tightly and realized his nose was becoming stuffy. He couldn’t cry or show any emotion like that. Not while you were suffering in his arms.

“Please, stay with me.” You begged.

John’s heart tightened so painfully in his chest he wanted to start smashing things. He wanted to take this anger and rage he felt and do something with it. But all he could do was hold you while you sobbed into his chest, clinging on to him for dear life. The guilt John felt was all consuming. It was his job as your husband to protect you and he was not home to do that. Now he had you trembling in his arms babbling that you were so scared and how you thought something bad was going to happen to you.

“You’re safe, darling. I’m going to make sure that nothing like that happens again.” John spoke into your soaked hair. For once you did not argue about John wanting to step in and handle things his way. Honestly it was a relief to know John had this handled and you had no reason to worry anymore.

“I’m so sorry, John. I never thought that I wouldn’t be safe at work. I should’ve been smarter or-“

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare blame yourself for the actions of a coward who corners a woman when they’re all alone.” John pulled away and cupped your face in his calloused hands. His rough hands lightly squished your cheeks as he made you look at him.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” The force behind John’s words and the dark gaze of his icey eyes showed you he meant it. You could see it in his face. He would walk, no run, to the ends of the earth for you and back if it meant your safety.

“John? I can’t go back to work if he’s there. I’m scared he might hurt someone else.” You whispered, cheeks squished between his palms and tears pooling between your flesh.

“I’ll handle it.” John pulled his hands away and hugged you again. This time rougher and tighter as if he’d never let you go.

“Please don’t end up in jail.” You peeled yourself away to look up into his icey blue eyes.

“Promise.” John said simply.

“Now, get dressed. I’ll bring up tea and food. Then I need you to tell me everything that’s even happened even if it’s just hearsay.” John and you shared a knowing look. You knew you would be taking some time off work until you had your nerve back and John handled everything.

——————

“How was work?” John’s voice called from the living room as you walked through the back door.

It was your first day back after you took two weeks off and you had been nervous but excited to go back to the normalcy of your job. John had stopped by at lunch with both kids to surprise you. It was his way of making it know amongst your colleagues who he was. You pretend you did not see the death glares he shot certain people you had mentioned or the fact he wore his camouflage pants and army green long sleeve. A way to show off he was military and had weaponry at his disposals.

“Good, no sight of that asshole. He’s still alive right?” You walked into the living room your heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

John was sat on the couch folding laundry. His left foot resting on Evelyn’s rocker as he bounced it lightly to keep the little girl fast asleep. Jj was was waddling around kicking a squishy football happily as the news played on the tv in the background.

John looked completely domesticated in his white t-shirt and jeans. You’d never know he had taken lives and was a hardened man of the military. He gave a warm smile his eyes crinkling and mutton chops nicely groomed as always, gesturing for you to join him. Playfully tossing a pair of his clean boxers at you, they lightly smacked you in the face. You peeled them off with a huff of a laugh and folded them.

“You going to answer my question?” You asked sarcastically as you plopped down next to him. Kicking your heels off and leaning forward to help fold the clothes.

“What was it again?” John asked playing dumb. You knew he heard you so you stared at him a bit serious.

“He’s still alive, right?” You asked keeping an eye on how John’s expression was unfaltering.

“Course he is. Like I said he won’t be bugging you anymore.” Joh turned and raised and eyebrow at you. This was his way of telling to to drop it but that was not going to happen with how stubborn you could be.

“No one knows where he is. He just stopped showing up to work.” You pressed hoping your husband was telling the truth.

“He can’t show up to work with broken legs. Plus he should have put in his resignation.” John turned back to the laundry, folding a white towel neatly and placing it on the coffee table. As if what he just said was normal.

“John!” You slapped your thighs at the admission. You could not believe John would do something like that and admit to it. Well you could believe it and that was the part that frightened you.

“I’m kidding, I broke his arms.” John said smoothly as if that was better.

“John, that’s not funny.” You scolded, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt trying to coax him to tell you what he did.

“Darling, why does it matter? He’s not going to be coming back to your work.” John sighed exasperated. He was pretending like you were getting on his nerves even though he actually found this quite amusing.

“Because this sounds a whole lot like those mafia movies you’ve been watching.” You thought back to how John had watched Goodfellas the night he came back after ‘handling’ everything. The smirk on his face when you agreed that it was hot when Henry Hill pistol whipped the neighbor for groping his girl made you wonder.

“I didn’t do anything.” John reassured, placing his rough hand on your thigh.

“I had a friend of mine rough him up and instruct him that if he showed up to work or the police it wouldn’t end well.” John tacked on quietly.

“That’s a crime!” Now you were getting mad. Unsure what your husband had done to get that vile human to quit his job and never show his face around here again.

“Again, I’m joking.” John hummed. A small smirk tugging at his lips. He was enjoying teasing you too much.

“You ever going to tell me the truth?” You asked feeling your face flush with anger. John turned to you with a smug smile and placed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Nope.”

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper

[yourlipstogodsears]

Almost Romantic (Dr. John Carter x Reader)

Summary: it’s Valentine’s Day and Carter is working that night. He’s extremely bummed about it because it’s his first Valentine’s Day with his new girlfriend.

(He’s such a sweetheart, i love him so much, angsty sad boy Carter. Fluffy)

He had bought roses, made dinner reservations, and even gotten her jewelry for the occasion. He was really looking forward to spending the night with his girlfriend. He had called her earlier that morning to remind her of their plans. He was now regretting that he had forgot that agreed to work this shift months ago.

He was sitting at the nurses station, his stethoscope hanging around his neck, looking glumly at the charts in front of him. His mind kept wandering to the dinner reservations that would now go unused, and the roses that were wilting in his apartment.

Dr. Greene walked past him, taking one look at his face. "Carter, how many more hours you got?" He asked softly, leaning against the counter. Carter looked at his watch, "6 more hours".

He nods and asks, “you got a cute date?”

Carter blushed slightly, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah". He admitted softly. Dr. Greene smiled sympathetically. "Too bad you're stuck here on Valentine's day". he commented, walking away. Carter groaned internally. "No shit". He muttered under his breath.

He stormed into his apartment the moment he got home, tossing his coat onto the couch. He saw the roses sitting on the table, now wilted and dying. He picked up the bouquet and slammed it back down on the table, cursing under his breath. He felt terrible, like the worst boyfriend ever.

He stomped into his bedroom, kicking off his shoes as he goes. He heard the answering machine beep, indicating a new message. He paused, his anger subsiding slightly out of curiosity. He walked back into the living room and pressed the play button on the answering machine. He heard her voice… it soothed his temper immediately as her soft voice fills the room.

“Small message. I just wanted to call and say I’m not mad about missing Valentine’s Day. I hope you’re learning and saving lives. your education and residency is more important than a silly holiday.. call me when you hear this. I’d love to hear your voice.. okay.. that’s all. Bye.”

Carter listened to her message, his shoulders relaxing. He felt like an idiot for getting mad and smashing the roses. She was always so understanding, putting his career first. He smiled softly. "Damn, she's too good for me".

He picked up the phone, pressing it against his ear. "Hey". He said softly. He could hear rustling on the other end, like she was sitting up in bed. "Still awake?" He asked, running a hand through his hair. "It's kinda late."

“Yeah.. did you just get home?”

He sighed, collapsing onto the couch. "Yeah, just got home. It was a long shift." He paused, glancing over at the wilted roses. "Listen... about earlier... missing Valentine’s Day..." He ran a hand over his face sheepishly. "I'm sorry".

“It’s okay baby..” she says softly through the phone.

He smiled, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease. "You're too good to me, you know that?" He said softly. "I feel like a jerk for even getting upset about it." He paused, looking at the roses again. "Those stupid roses are all wilted now."

“We can do something when you’re free and have the day off if you really feel guilty about it.”

He chuckled softly, his heart warming at her understanding nature. "Deal. When I finally get a day off, we'll make up for it. Dinner, movie, the whole shebang." He paused, yawning. "God, I'm exhausted."

“Oh.. I don’t wanna keep you up..” she says softly a hint of guilt in her voice.

He smiled softly, his voice gentle. "It's okay, really. I just needed to hear your voice." He shifted on the couch, getting more comfortable. "You go back to sleep, okay?"

“Okay pretty boy.. get some sleep”

He laughed softly at the nickname, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Night, beautiful." He hung up the phone, setting it down on the coffee table before turning off the lamp. He lay there in the dark, a small smile on his face as he drifted off to sleep.

[vampire-matcha]

Angst for no reason incoming (cw: cheating)

Johnny had been off ever since you picked him up from the airport last night. It wasn't unusual for him to be distant sometimes when he first got home. It was a difficult adjustment going from live fire back to civilian life, and sometimes he needed time to get back into the swing of things. But this time was different. He couldn't look you in the eyes. Instead of falling exhausted into your arms, he shied away from your touch. His body was stiff when you hugged him. He didn't rest his hand on your thigh the whole ride home. He didn't even kiss you.

You assumed he had seen or done something worse than usual. You assumed the deaths had been more brutal, more numerous. Maybe he had lost someone close to him this time. It's not like he could even tell you, all his operations were black. Strictly confidential. You were just a civilian.

You did your best to comfort him. You made him a hot meal, drew him a bath, offered to massage his sore muscles; but he picked at his plate until it was cold, locked the bathroom door, and slept with his back to you all night.

Something in your gut told you it was wrong. You ignored the pit in your stomach that warned you. You boxed his dinner up for him to eat when he was feeling better. You pulled the blankets tighter around you to drive out the cold you felt without him beside you as you slept. You pretended to be asleep when he silently rolled out of bed and crept out of the bedroom. You pretended not to hear his low voice talking on the phone in the living room. You pretended not to hear him cry.

He avoided you the next day, too. Answering in one or two words, barely eating, leaving the room as soon as you walked in. He barely spoke to you until that evening.

He called you into the living room, where you found him sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees, chin resting on his hands, eyes unfocused staring out at the wall. His wedding band glowed in the lamplight. You sat beside him. Your hands reached to comfort him, but landed instead in your lap when you noticed how he tensed when you reached for him.

"I need to tell you something," he said, his voice low and monotone, his words careful and measured. He wouldn't look at you. His blue eyes were cold and stony, his jaw hard and clenched.

Oh no.

"What is it?" You asked, hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" Your eyes scanned him for any sign of bruising, but his skin was clear.

He shook his head, a slow, even movement. His hands shook as he dropped his forehead onto them and closed his eyes tight. The faintest shine of wetness gathered at his lashes. He took a deep, trembling breath.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, the sound leaving him as if his soul were rushing out through his mouth.

God, please, no.

"John..." you uttered. Your stomach twisted. You heard the thump-thump-thimping of your pulse in your ears. "What is it?" You repeated.

Please, not this. Anything but this.

"When I was away..." No... "Bonnie, I-" Please, God, No- "I had sex with someone else."

The only sound in the room was the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway. His words echoed in your head as you processed his confession. Everything clicked into place as the seconds passed into minutes. His behavior since coming home wasn't that of trauma. It was guilt. He couldn't look you in the eye, couldn't even bare to touch you, because he couldn't carry the weight of his shame.

Your body and mind operated separately. You tried to sort your thoughts out, but your heart was running away from you. Your hands trembled as you fumbled with your wedding ring. Your throat felt as if you had swallowed a stone whole. Your face was wet with tears you hadn't even felt fall.

"Who?" You asked. Your voice sounded more like nails clawing at a closed door. Johnny gasped as he strangled down his own tears.

"My lieutenant," he confessed, his voice saturated with guilt. The watery words erupted from his chest like a violent geyser, as if he couldn't get them out fast enough; as if saying them burned his tongue, his throat, his stomach.

You sobbed at the revelation. You knew him. You'd shaken his hand. You'd thanked him for looking after your Johnny. Your Johnny! Oh, you were going to be sick.

Your legs carried you away from him, away from your husband and the future you two had together. They carried you into your shared bedroom, your marital bed now sullied by infidelity. Your hands locked the door behind you. You collapsed onto the floor. His arms didn't catch you. They didn't hold you close, they didn't comfort you. There was no comfort to be found on the cold tile of the bathroom you'd crawled into. You emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet and cried with reckless abandon.

You screamed and wailed like a widow. You mourned your marriage, your love, the future you could never have now. Your trust was broken. How could you ever repair what you had?

---

Pt. 2 Pt. 3

I honestly don't know where this cane from. I'm sorry guys. Maybe I'll continue this idk

[feinv]

show me how. john constantine x fem!reader. smut. angst. make-up sex. unprotected p in v. missionary. doggy. coming inside. poor aftercare. john is an asshole. 2k words.

summery. you just need him to show you that he needs you.

a/n. based on a request! gif credit.

you were staring at him, tears threatening to fill your eyes as he once again chose you over a job. you don’t even remember the last time the two of you were actually together, spent time together.

at the start of your relationship, he was always away during daylight hours, returning past sunset and devoting his evenings to you. and you didn’t mind. you knew the nature of his job, and still decided to be with him. but then it progressed into being away for almost twenty-four hours every other day. soon it turned into not seeing him for weeks on end.

and yet you didn’t leave. how could you? you knew he was busy….had lives to save. he wasn’t just out having fun, it was dangerous as well. how could you ever be mad at him for helping people?

but as bad as you felt, your emotions overruled the guilt inside, deciding to finally confront him the next time he was around.

and today was that day.

he was home for only five minutes before he opened his bag and filled it up with some occult stuff — half of which you had no idea what was used for — getting ready to drive off and deal with another of his demonic cases.

your heart ached how he simply greeted you without even a kiss or a hug like you two were some good old pals. it was getting out of control.

“are you leaving again?”you questioned firmly, knowing the answer that was about to come, yet deciding to ask it anyway.

“yes,” he replied dryly, not even bothering to look at where you were seated on bed. “i have stuff to deal with.”

you were holding you tears back, trying so hard to make your voice appear normal, like you weren’t at the edge of a breakdown, “can’t you take a day off?”

“no,” his eyes looked for a tool he needed, entirely engulfed in his doings as if you weren’t even there.

“please, i ju-”

“did you not hear what i just said?” he cut you off harshly, locking eyes with you for the first time, annoyance dripping from his tone.

you sighed, getting off from the bed as he continued his actions, moving to the wardrobe to withdraw a small suitcase. you opened up your drawers and started stuffing your piles of clothes into the bag, silent tears covering your cheeks.

it all reminded you of the dramatic characters from movies and you felt like a petulant child trying to run off after every minor disagreement.

except you two were adults, and it was anything but a minor issue.

constantine stopped in his tracks, side eyeing you with confusion as he registered your actions, blowing out a breath from his nose. “what are you doing?”

“leaving,” you whispered back quickly, the word ready on the tip of your tongue waiting to be finally said out loud, and you didn’t elaborate further.

he eyed you for a moment, putting the items from his hands down, closing the distance a bit. “what is that supposed to mean?”

“what does it matter to you, john? i could have left weeks ago, and you wouldn’t even notice, you uttered, increasing the speed of your movements, matching the speed of the tears falling from your eyes.

he walked to stand next to you, his angry eyes soaking in your figure, “what are you even talking about? hey- put that down.” he half yelled, jerking the clothes out of your hands.

you finally stopped and looked up at him, watching as his pupils were scanning every mimic on your face.

there was so much you wanted to say, yell — shout. but the anger was running so wild in your veins, you didn’t even know where to begin, how to speak up.

“are you out of your mind?” he looked you up and down, like he was trying to find something on you that would prove his conviction that you were somehow insane.

“what?” you laughed in disbelief, “you have the audacity to call me crazy? when i see you twice a month? for fifteen fuckin’ minutes?” you poked his chest with your pointer finger, voice getting an octave higher by each word.

he didn’t match your energy, staying collected with the lack of reaction, which made you all more frustrated. “calm down, and you are not going anywhere,” he argued back.

“why? so i can stay here and watch how you choose those fuckin’ demons over me again and again?” you gritted your teeth, your hands reaching to the remaining pile of clothes, hiccuping and sniffing back, your entire face wet and most definitely red — a total fucking mess.

his hands stretched and gripped your wrists, moving your body away from the suitcase and straightening it, trapping your hands against your chest. “don’t act like a child right now. i can’t stay here and babysit you all day.”

his words cut right through whatever hope you still had. you were frustrated, and sad, and tired. and so utterly disappointed. “with no one here you won’t have to worry about babysitting,” you spat back.

he softened his grasp on your wrists for a second and you quickly used that opportunity to zip up your bag and march past him to the front door, deliberately putting on your shoes and tying the laces as slow as you can to prolong the moment, giving him time to apologize.

but constantine didn’t know the existence of that word, and you were well aware of that.

yes but was he letting you go this easily? was he not gonna fight? perhaps you were right to leave.

you sighed in defeat, twisting the door knob and peeking it open for an inch before a hand slapped it shut from behind.

you turned around, not having a time to protest as his lips crashed into yours, his hands flying to your waist as he kissed you hungrily.

you were entranced for a second as your mind went dizzy, returning back the kiss before some sense was slapped right back into you, your hands pushing him away harshly. the two of you silently stared at one another, breathing heavily, your own face flushed, chest heaving under his gaze. you felt fresh tears staining your cheeks before your hands gripped his black suit and guided him back to you, connecting your lips with his again.

it wasn’t passionate — all teeth and roughness, frustration. he switched his palms from your hips to the back of your thighs, making you jump a little and cross your legs around his torso.

he carried you to bed, putting you down on the soft mattress, getting rid of your pants before his hands roamed back to your shirt, breaking the kiss to remove your top over your head.

you unbuttoned his white shirt, throwing it away from his body as your hands felt the toned muscles of his chest. he planted rough but needy kisses all along from your jaw to your neck, sucking on the soft flesh while his fingers were unclasping your bra.

you whined into the sensation, gripping on his dark messy hair, feeling his wet lips suddenly trailing slow kisses in between the valley of your nude breasts. “don’t be so difficult,” he whispered against your skin, “you are important to me.”

you stayed silent for a moment, closing your eyes not to cry all over again. you broke all the records today. you knew he wasn’t the most affectionate person, but you still needed something to prove you he cared. “what would i know?”

he looked up at you, his face dangerously close to the only piece of material left covering your body. “you do.”

with that constantine-like “assurance,” he trailed his fingers down to your abdomen, removing the fabric from your thighs before his hands found their way back.

you inhaled a soft gasp when he started playing with your clit, rubbing it softly and pinching it in between his fingers.

he captured you in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth when you felt a finger being pushed inside of you.

he swallowed your moans, you hands firm on the back of his neck, keeping him close to you as he added the second one, thrusting them in and out in a steady rhythm.

you felt him curling his fingers inside, pressing on your inner walls in a way that felt so good while his thumb simultaneously continued playing with your clit, making you clench around him. that bubble was about to explode as you struggled to keep your legs open when he retrieved his hands from you, your dissatisfied whines reaching his ears.

was he denying you an orgasm as a way of punishing you? perhaps. and you wanted to shower him with strings of curses, but decided there was a more brutal way.

“tell me you love me,” you demanded, breaking the kiss and staring up at him as he leaned back, his dark eyes staying on yours.

you suddenly felt him rubbing his length on your entrance to collect your wetness as a lube, not even noticing when he got rid of clothes. “tell me-” he cut you off as he slammed in, not letting you get used to his size before he pulled out completely, forging back again.

you mewled at the contact, throwing your back and closing your eyes to ease the uncomfortable sense of fullness.

he grunted at your tightness, continuing his assault as you felt the pleasure finally cursing through you, greedily sucking in his cock and wanting more. “say it,” you tried again, mentally begging him to just say those three words.

instead, he shoved his fingers into your mouth, shutting you out as you tasted yourself on him from when he was inside you with his digits just moments ago. his mouth latched into your nipple, swirling his hot tongue around then sucking and repeating it over again, altering between your breasts.

your nails scratched his back harshly, leaving red marks that you knew definitely hurt but you needed to do something at the intense amount of pleasure you felt. and you also needed to hurt just a bit — at least physically — for being so cruel to you.

he groaned at the pain coursing through his back, altering his movements and moving through your walls with a new pace, his tip kissing your cervix repeatedly, your moans reminding a broken record.

you felt your orgasm approaching, that familiar tickle making you lightheaded. he gently pressed his palm over your pubic bone, his other hand latching back on your clit to massage it.

you cried out loud as the ecstasy washed over you, your back arching from the mattress underneath, your clenching walls tightening around him so much that he choked on his grunts, quickly manhandling your body around.

with your face buried in the mattress and ass up in the air, he slammed into you from a deeper angle. his hands definitely left bruises from how hard he was holding onto your hips, but you were also sure that you physically couldn’t hold yourself in place from how his dick was balls deep inside you. “don’t even dare to leave me,” his vulnerable but harsh voice brought you back to reality. “i need you.”

in your fucked out haze you didn’t truly register what he was saying, but at that point you would agree with just anything.

follow directly after his words, his groans echoing in the room and you felt the hot streaks of cum being shot into you, you limp body clinging to the white sheets.

still buried in you, he lowered his head to your spine, his sticky forehead connecting itself with your skin, his hot breath fanning just above your ass.

after steading back his breathing, he slowly pulled out of you with a squelching sound and a hot liquid running down your thigh, and you almost whined at how empty you felt.

he laid on his back, gently moving you against him as you cling to his body, practically laying on top of him. his fingers gently ran against your hair and you could feel the soreness of your muscles and the headache from all the crying enveloping you in a much needed sleep — hoping the former would catch up sooner.

with your eyelids fluttering shut and mind crossing the state of consciousness, you felt a barely audible “i love you” being whispered against your ear.

# john constantine masterlist | main m.list | join the taglist

[justatiredghost]

For day 7 of @jonmartinweek Ace Day!

That Simple

How many times can I write them discussing asexuality? Many. Don’t test me lol. Pre-Unknowing, Martin asks John out. It’s not until later that John realizes he never told Martin he’s Ace and he’s terrified of starting anything until he knows that important detail about him.

-

Filing away statements was one of those jobs that John had once enjoyed doing alone. The silence, the calm, and the act of slowly making this mess into something neat and organized was strangely soothing. Yes, the mess had been overwhelming and stressful, but this was a tangible task that he could do to remedy that. God, he missed the days when his biggest concern was the mess.

A lot had changed since then, and now filing statements felt like a desperate grasp for normalcy. He no longer wanted to do it alone, though. He tended to wait until he knew Martin would also be filing so they could do it together. Even if they weren’t in the same aisle, at least he could hear his footsteps, the rustling of papers evidence of someone else nearby. 

Another thing that had changed, John supposed. He had been so closed off in the beginning, but he had finally realized how much he needed these connections with other people. He had messed up so much in his life, but he was infinitely grateful that he had what he did with Martin. He was a good friend, more than he deserved, and he had missed him dearly during his time on the run, or following Gertrude’s trail across the world. 

John was spending every waking moment searching for anything that might help with the Unknowing, that would protect these people he cared so much about, but he still tried to find time to just— exist near Martin, even if they had nothing to talk about. Even if it felt like time was running out, he was determined not to repeat mistakes of the past. He didn’t want to push Martin away again. 

It still took him by surprise, as he crouched on the ground, sifting through his box of files and chuckling at some joke Martin had made, when Martin blurted out, “We should get dinner together.”

John saw the way Martin stiffened as the words left his mouth, as if he hadn’t entirely meant to say them and definitely hadn’t prepared himself to deal with the fallout of saying something like that to John specifically. And John knew he definitely wasn’t helping Martin’s anxiety with the way he stared up at him stupidly, trying to get his brain to work, because this didn’t feel real. 

He’d been trying to ignore the way warmth spread through him any time he glanced at Martin, or how he sought his presence at every opportunity. It had been easy, considering all of the kidnappings and world-ending threats, to bury it down deep, pretend it wasn’t there. He thought there was no way Martin could possibly feel the same, he certainly hadn’t done anything to deserve it. But here Martin was, proving him wrong, surprising him like he always did. 

A part of him recoiled, terrified of putting Martin in even more danger by letting him get that close, but since returning, he’d been trying to stamp down that voice in his mind. He was stronger for these connections, and he so desperately, probably selfishly, didn’t want to lose Martin. John had done so much to contribute to the misery, if there was even a chance that he could make Martin happy, that they could be together despite everything—

“I know, I know,” Martin said suddenly with a self-deprecating laugh, and John felt a pang of sadness and guilt at that. “We’ve got the Unknowing to prepare for, this really isn’t—“

“Okay,” John interrupted, making his decision. There was a defiance in him, at Martin’s attempt to smooth things over so they could pretend this hadn’t happened. He wanted Martin to be happy. He wanted to make Martin happy. And he never wanted him to feel like he wasn’t good enough, because he was— everything. 

“—the time for— what?” Martin stumbled to a halt, the folder he had been clutching nearly slipping out of his grasp, and stared at him in genuine surprise. 

“I said yes, Martin,” John said, his own anxiety and awkwardness causing his words to come out more defensive and sharp than he’d intended. “I would like to get dinner,” he amended. 

“Okay,” Martin said, thankfully looking pleased instead of offended at his tone, if a little bit dazed. “Cool.”

Martin cringed at his own choice of word, but John had to turn away to hide his expression as it caused him to feel that spread of warmth and fondness in his chest again. It was endearing. Most things Martin did these days made him feel that way, and he didn’t want him to feel bad about it. 

He was in a bit of a daze himself, disbelief and an indescribable joy that he hadn’t even realized he was still capable of feeling. After so much trauma and pain, it felt impossible that he could have something so wonderful happen. He wasn’t used to having good things to look forward to, unless he counted the lunches he’d taken to getting with Martin again. 

It wasn’t until much later, when he was in the restroom washing his hands that he realized his mistake. He just glanced up at the mirror and caught a glimpse of himself, he wasn’t even sure what reminded him, he just turned off the water and froze. 

What was he thinking? He’d promised himself long ago that he’d never get into another relationship with someone who didn’t know about his asexuality first. He and Martin had been through so much together, they were so close and had formed some sort of bond that often made him forget that they didn’t know very many practical things about each other.

While Martin’s favorite color had never come up in conversation, it wasn’t the sort of thing that could make or break a relationship. They could learn those sorts of things about each other later, in their own time. Whereas something like John’s entire sexuality could, and in fact had, broken relationships. 

He felt like such an idiot as the panic filled him. He didn’t want to think of his asexualiry as an issue, but he didn’t want to make Martin feel led on in any way. They were about to leave, though, and Martin had seemed so excited, he didn’t want to ruin this for him. Maybe it would be fine to leave it until after. He certainly couldn’t bring himself to cancel. No, he’d have to do it after. 

He splashed water on his face and took a deep breath. He tried to smile at himself in the mirror, but just ended up grimacing. 

-

John was brooding, he knew he was. He was ruining everything, the way he always did, and that guilt sat heavy in the pit of his stomach, ruining what was left of his appetite. He was trying so hard to engage and enjoy this supposed date, but he could see the concern and disappointment on Martin’s face whenever he fell into gloomy silence. 

“You know,” Martin said suddenly. “If you don’t want to do this, you can say so. I know I kind of sprung this on you out of nowhere, but you don’t have to pretend to be interested just to make me feel better—“

“No!” John exclaimed, more loudly than he’d meant to, getting a few looks from others in the restaurant. He ran a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture and forced himself to continue at a more normal level. “No, I’m not pretending, I just— look, can we get out of here? Maybe this was a mistake.”

“Right,” Martin said, short and hard, and John cursed himself, knowing he was ruining all of this. 

“We should go back to the archives,” John said as they grabbed their jackets and stood. 

“I’m not going back into work, John,” Martin said, exasperated. “The point was to get away from there for a while.”

“Well, we need to go somewhere to talk,” John said. 

“That’s really not necessary.”

John turned to look at him in surprise. He thought he’d at least have a chance to explain things. But maybe Martin was just beginning to see how awful he was and that there was no way this could be worth it. He must have seen something in his expression, though, because Martin sighed, looking resigned. 

“Fine,” he said. “It’ll be a bit of a walk, but we can go to my flat.”

“Mine’s close,” John said, feeling foolish for not thinking of it first. 

Reflexively, he grabbed Martin’s hand and began leading the way. He realized his blunder too late, how uncomfortable it was likely making Martin if he was no longer interested. He didn’t want to pull his hand away like he’d been burned, so he waited a moment longer before letting his grip go slack, slipping free. Neither of them said anything, and John was too much of a coward to look back. 

They were quiet the entire way there, which was not a good sign. But John was afraid that, the moment he opened his mouth, it would all come tumbling out and he didn’t want to have this conversation on public transportation. He had enough people watching him as it was. 

“Right,” he said the moment they were alone in his flat and the door was securely closed behind them. “We should have had this conversation immediately, I apologize.”

“John,” Martin said with a heavy sigh. “You really don’t have to explain anything.”

“I do,” John said, and waved for him to take a seat on this threadbare sofa. For his part, he started pacing, which probably wasn’t helping put Martin at ease. “There are things you should know about me, if— if you are interested in pursuing anything.”

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Martin said, looking baffled. “I thought this was about you not being interested.”

“No, I— very much am,” John said quickly. 

“Oh,” Martin said, and now he looked even more confused. “You said it was a mistake.”

“Not having this conversation first was the mistake. I, I enjoy your company a great deal. Your friendship means a lot to me, and if you’re amenable, I would certainly be interested in something romantic…” John trailed off, feeling like an idiot. His language was always so stiff and formal, impersonal especially when he was nervous, but he could never seem to help it. 

“But…?” Martin prompted when he failed to continue. 

“But you should know that something romantic is all I can offer. And even then, I don’t— I can’t imagine anything with me will be particularly easy. I’m not used to— it’s been a while since—“

“John, John, slow down,” Martin said, and to his great surprise he actually looked amused. “It’s been a while for me too. Are you trying to talk me out of being interested in you?”

“I don’t— I don’t know,” John admitted. “It would certainly be easier, and we could avoid you being disappointed in me and my sexuality—“

“John, I’m not going to be disappointed in you,” Martin interrupted. “If you’re trying to tell me you aren’t interested in men—“

“No, no,” John said, rubbing viciously at his forehead, struggling to get his thoughts in order. “Gender has never particularly played into any form of attraction for me, I’ve dated multiple— shit, I’m doing this all wrong. I should just— I’m asexual. As in, I don’t do sex. Ever.”

Martin let out a bright laugh and John almost took an involuntary step back. Of all the ways he imagined this going, he had never expected this. A cold numbness swept through him and he felt sick. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Of course Martin wouldn’t want this. Who would want this from him?

“Sorry, sorry,” Martin said quickly, and his laugh died immediately when he saw the expression on his face before John could hide it. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear!”

“I-i-i-i-it’s fine,” he said quickly, just wanting this to be over. “It’s fine—“

“John!” Martin exclaimed and he fell silent. “I’m ace too.”

“You’re…” John stared at him for a long moment, uncomprehending. 

“I am also asexual,” Martin repeated, as if John might not be familiar with the shortened version. “I mean, it’s a little different for me. I enjoy sex, but it isn’t exactly something I feel the need to seek out.”

“Oh,” was all John could manage, a little stunned. 

“Yes, ‘oh’,” Martin repeated. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I laughed, it's just— funny how easily that was solved.”

“Yes, I just—“ John ran a hand through his hair before dropping down onto the couch beside Martin with a heavy sigh, trying to banish the tension before looking over at him. “Can it really be that simple?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Martin said, and he smiled at him. “You’re not interested in sex, I’m not interested in sex, problem solved.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” John said. “I expected— well, I don’t know what I expected. I just didn’t want— You deserve—“

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Martin interrupted, and he reached out and took his hand, which John took gratefully. “I get it. It can be a stressful topic. Thank you for telling me.”

“You are—“ John began, searching desperately for the words. “You are amazing. And I’m just— I don’t know. I just didn’t want you walking into this expecting something I can’t give. I’ve done so much wrong, but if I can just get one thing right— I’d like it to be this. Us. You deserve it.”

“Oh,” Martin said, and to his alarm, he looked almost close to tears. 

“A-are you okay?”

”Is it all right if I kiss you?” Martin asked and John could feel his face flair with heat. 

“I-I-if you want, then I would— I would like that.”

Martin’s hand on his cheek was gentle and warm, and it was enough to cause his eyes to flutter closed. How long had it been since someone last touched him? Someone that wasn’t trying to kill him. Maybe Georgie had given him a hug, and Martin had helped him change the bandages on his hand, but that was it. 

He wasn’t used to anyone wanting to be this close to him. And yet here was Martin of all people, touching him, kissing him. It felt like he’d been holding his breath for so long, only to finally break the surface now, able to breathe at last. He’d tried so hard not to think about it, but he’d so desperately wanted this, and now that he had it— he ached with how happy it made him. 

He never wanted this to stop. Martin had his arms around him now, and he wanted to stay in this moment forever. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so cared for, and he tried to put that back into the kiss as he clung to him, fists holding onto his jumper as if he might lose him if he let go. 

He hadn’t meant to put all that desperation and affection into the kiss, but he had wanted to give it to him for so long, it was hard not to drown them both in it. At least Martin was having no trouble keeping up. 

When they finally were forced to part, John leaned on his shoulder so he could stay close while he caught his breath, close enough that they were sharing air. He could feel the shuddering breath that left Martin and took solace that at least they were both feeling wrecked together. 

“Wow,” Martin said after a moment, his hand now running up and down John’s back. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Me too,” John admitted. 

Martin reached up and swiped his thumb across John’s cheek, and John was surprised to realize he was crying. He hadn’t even realized. But Martin dried his tears and he ached so much it almost made him cry all over again. 

“You are— so important to me,” John said, because he didn’t know how else to put it. “I’m so afraid, I’ve been going about everything wrong, putting you all in danger—“

“None of this is your fault,” Martin interrupted. “I’ve seen how hard you try to protect us. I just want you to let us help you in return. You aren’t in this alone.”

“I’ll try,” John said. “I know now that I can’t do this alone. I don’t want to push you away.”

“Good,” Martin said. “I care about you too. Just let me.”

“Okay,” John said, and he thought he might be crying again. “Will you stay?”

“Of course.”

He stayed in his arms on the couch, knowing his back would be killing him tomorrow. He just wanted to stretch this moment out as long as he could. Right now, everything felt so simple. All he had to do was be with Martin. The man he was falling in love with. 

The world wasn’t ending, and nothing was trying to kill them in that moment. And they were somehow on the same page with what they wanted in a relationship together. They’d need to talk about it properly eventually, but that was for later. Right now, John could set aside the guilt, he could let himself be loved, and he could love in return. And he thought, maybe, they could get through all this. Together.