#when if they had been it would've made things FAR too complicated and hurt rose so much bc

[metacrisisdoctor]

me fighting the urge to tell people the doctor and rose were absolutely not fucking in s2 when they talk about it in tags of my gifsets

[queenofbaws]

Number 11 with jossam (Sam rescues Josh au perhaps?)

He'd been trying not to look at her. It hadn't been going well.

Sam had been friends with the girls for a long time - a long, long time - so Josh had (foolishly) believed he'd seen her in every light you could see a person. He'd seen her face lit up with birthday candles, he'd seen her sympathetically shepherd Hannah through crises, he'd seen her furiously competitive on board game nights, he'd seen her subtly wiping tears away at the end of a sappy movie marathon, he'd seen her sleep-rumpled and bleary-eyed at the kitchen table, he'd seen it all.

Or so he'd thought, until tonight.

She was trying not to look at him too, but he suspected that had less to do with some complicated tangle of emotions in her chest and was instead more about the glare of her hiking headlamp. When she spoke to him, it was from the corner of her mouth; when she looked at him, it was from her periphery. She didn't want to hurt his eyes, but in that moment he would've gladly let her blind him, if only to take his focus off the agony in his guts.

He'd ruined it. All of it. He didn't even know was 'it' was, anymore...if there'd ever been an 'it' to start with. When had he decided that a taste of revenge was worth throwing this away - throwing her away? It had made sense to him, once. In the hard light of day, it had made all the sense in the world.

Now Sam was quiet, and she was grim-faced, and there was a scratch on her eyebrow that wouldn't stop oozing blood. Her nose was red. Her cheeks were streaked with grime and mascara. Her lips were starting to look awfully pale from the cold.

And there was nothing - repeat: nothing, ladies and gents - in her eyes. She was a robot, an automaton, guiding him silently through the mine with the Terminator's conviction. Not for the first time, he wondered if maybe this was all a hallucination too, if he was simply imagining the mannequin he'd dressed in her clothes coming to life, adding one more hollow ghost to his current list of hauntings.

Then they reached the water.

"It's going to be cold," she said. Mouthed, really. She took a deep breath through her nose before lowering herself in, and though she barely flinched as she did it, there was no missing the way her teeth started chattering almost immediately. "However cold you're thinking? Double that, okay? But we have to cross through here."

He got as far as his calves before his body rejected it. His muscles locked, cramped, turned to goddamn iron, and before he could catch himself, he was down, down, down in the icy blackness of the underground pool. Not that 'icy' was the right word; not that 'blackness' even came close.

His heart was in his mouth when Sam yanked him back up, lodged so thickly at the back of his tongue that he could barely get a breath in. His teeth chattered, his blood turned to slush in his veins, and he was suddenly the most awake he'd been in twelve goddamn miserable months.

He whipped his head towards her, not giving a single shit about the headlamp anymore, but that was when her grip tightened and she pushed him deeper into the water again.

In the space of that second, two certainties came over him: One, Sam was taking her pound of flesh for what he'd put her through, what he'd forced her to watch him put the others through; and two, he understood. He wouldn't (couldn't) fight her. He deserved to be plunged into that dark, freezing void forever and ever amen - she deserved to hold his head down until the bubbles stopped.

But his head didn't go under at all.

Her hand covered his mouth as best it could, given her trembling. She hunched her body flush to the edge of the pit and pulled him tightly against her, both of them sunk low with only their chins above the water. He had just enough time to wonder what was happening, what she was doing, and then he saw the ripples.

Josh didn't have words for the thing that rose out of the water, then. Neither did he have words for how grateful he was that Sam had sensed it. It stood slowly, unfolding inch by inch, foot by foot, until it loomed over them, a bone-white monstrosity made of angles and teeth.

The beam of Sam's headlamp shone directly in its face, but it didn't seem to notice. Its head tilted this way, that way, this way again, and without warning it took off like a shot, doubling back the way they'd come on limbs connected by too many joints.

He didn't know how long they remained there in the water, huddled against each other like little kids trying to escape the rain under an awning. He wasn't even sure he noticed when Sam took her hand from his mouth. But when sense returned to him (inasmuch as it had that night), she was leading him through the murk again, their progress slow and silent and freezing, freezing cold.

She scrambled up the ledge first, flinging the frigid water from her arms, then held her arms out to him, beckoning him to join her.

But he was too numb. Too cold. His body didn't move the way he needed it to without her to guide him, and the thought of heaving his waterlogged form out of the pit and onto that ledge was...it was...

"I'm going to help lift you up here, okay?" she whispered, beckoning again. "If anything hurts, just say and I'll stop, but we need to get out of here, Josh."

He winced against her headlamp, distantly finding comfort in the idea there was a difference between him and the thing that had risen from the water. The sound of his name in her voice was what spurred him on, though, the force of nature that convinced him to try.

He grabbed the lip of the ledge with every ounce of his strength, Sam grabbed him under his arms, and together the two of them hefted him up out of the water and onto dry land.

The cold was worse, now.

How many times had he seen Sam before? More than he could count. But as he looked at her then, hair freezing to icicles as it hung in her face, the blood on her eyebrow almost black against the paleness of her skin, every inch of her shaking, trembling, shivering, quaking...it was like he was seeing her for the very first time.

"I'm sorry," he said, surprising himself just as much as her, the sandpaper rasp of his voice sounding terribly small in the dark, dank cavern they found themselves in. "F-for a-all of it, S-Sammy. I'm sorry."

Under the glare of her headlamp, he saw her eyes soften. He saw some part of her thaw. Come back.

"I know, Josh," she whispered, and when he wrapped his arms around her, his sleeves heavy and beginning to freeze, she didn't push him away. "I know."

[kozutenshi]

"neh, tooru." he tilted his head to the side, looking at your figure arranging the pillows in your small makeshift house.

"i'll definitely marry you when we're older."

he chuckled at your sudden outburst, not coping with what you said. "what do you even mean by that?"

"well, marriage.. isn't that what happens when two people want to stay together in each other's side forever?" your unsure and confused expression made him laugh harder. the pout on your lips made him stop, patting your cheek with a soft smile on his face.

"well then, i guess i'm gonna have to get a ring ready."

BALAY BALAY

— "bahay-bahayan" in Filipino!

— a game played my two or more wherein the kids would act like a real family doing what a family does normally. literally in simple terms, playing house.

— used to play this with my cousin, two other friends, and my childhood friend. yes, my childhood friend was the dad and i was the mom.

sometimes, you wonder which events made things turn out to be how they currently were.

seasons change, and your years of stay in this world had been growing. the amount of times you told a lie or two, the amount of times you cried, laughed, burst out of anger; collectively, this was what our life was.

oikawa thinks the same way too.

the young man sat on the park bench, looking out to the beach of brazil. he should be in argentina right now, practicing the sport he loves, but ever since he got the mail, it was as if a part of him felt too empty to function. his team gave him a week off, and he found himself going back to brazil reminiscing.

he thumbed the gold letterings, almost wishing the letter came with your scent instead of the roses that made the contents painfully obvious.

of course he had opened it, the seal already broken enough to know that he had opened it several times. taking a deep breath, he held his tears back.

how did it come to this?

on the other side of the world, you waited for his answer, the man you stuck with since children. it had been days since the mail was reportedly received. you were nervous, gulping down a lump on your throat to his lack of response. warm arms wrapped you from behind, kissing your temple. "hasn't he replied yet?"

his hand took yours, playing with the ring he gave you and drawing slow therapeutic circles on your skin. you smiled sadly at your fiancee, before shaking your head and melting into his arms. "nope. aren't you supposed to be at work?" he chuckled sheepishly before picking up his things and kissing you tenderly. "yeah. i'm off now. i'm sure he's just preoccupied so don't stress yourself over his response, yeah?" you nodded, sending him off with a loving smile which he returned.

as the door closed, your eyes went back to the laptop screen, begrudgingly thinking of your work before sitting down and continuing it. you didn't know what time it was when you finished, but it was probably an hour or two already when the doorbell rang.

lazily, you stood up and opened the door to find oikawa standing at your doorstep. "yo, n/n-chan." your eyes showed your shock and your body froze, before you relaxed and chuckled. "yikes, i'm hallucinating," you muttered under your breath before closing the door in his face.

"you know.. i'm flattered that you think of me that much that i can be a hallucination.. but for real, i'm 100% human, no alien stuff here."

the "I can't believe you're here" face you had made him chuckle, opening his arms for you to fall into. your scent was familiar, your warmth, your smile, until you dissolved into sobs. frantically, he moved away from you and wiped the tears off tenderly with shaky hands. "what? why are you crying?!"

"tooru! why weren't responding to me?" he chuckled nervously, knowing full well that telling the real reason will complicate things. "i wasn't sure what to answer just yet so i decided to discuss the matter with my coaches first. sorry, n/n-chan. now, can you stop crying, princess?"

it was painful to lie to you, but if it is for what's better, then he'd do it. "don't call me that." you urge yourself to move away and invite him into your apartment shared with your fiance. his eyes scanned the loft, noting the things that mirrored your personality on every shelf, every wall.

"how long have you been here in japan?"

"this is my third day. i'll go back tomorrow."

"ah, i see. then shall we spend the day together?"

"yeah. i did meet the three guys yesterday. it's your turn."

you placed the bowl of chips in front of him, urging to eat while he raised his eyebrows in question. "why didn't you invite me?"

"better question. why are you eating chips this early?" you shrugged, shoving a piece or two into your mouth. "it's not that early. it's like, almost noon."

he rolled his eyes and started eating. the silence stretched on but it was comforting. his eyes raked on your figure, how you were still the same, but different. as if a part of you stayed, the other changed.

"oh yeah. i have to go to that volleyball thing to help takeru with his plays. wanna come with?"

"takeru, as in my nephew?"

"yeah, who else?"

"there are tons of takeru's in this country, y'know."

you shrugged. "well you have no choice. you're coming with. say cheese to the camera. i'll tell my fiancee about you suddenly being here." raising your phone, you snapped a photo to your fiance, telling him you'll spend the day with tooru which he agreed with a "take care" message.

oikawa watched your lips curve to a smile, the same one he fell in love with, only to realize it wasn't for him. was he hurt? no.

numb. that's what he was.

the two of you passed by your previous school, onto the training grounds reminiscing stories after stories. with a pouting takeru, the three of you watched the smaller children train, a fond smile on your face. a small little girl stumbled to you with tears. "mama?"

oikawa saw how petrified you looked for a second before you sat down and tried to ease her. he then recalled how the two of you used to play, hand in hand, eyes to eyes. he sat beside you, patting the head of the child lightly which she seemed to like.

you watched how he calmed her with no words, and how she went from crying to laughing in minutes. a fond smile was on your face when the mother came over and took the child.

"you two look good together. thank you so much for taking care of her."

"thank you but we aren't-"

"thank you. it was no problem ma'am!"

he waved a hand to the child who smiled at him and waved back. his smile was a genuine warm one, his eyes holding adoration, before they shifted to you. "what are you staring at, n/n-chan?"

you shook your head. "i just wondered where you got your skills in calming down a child until i remember takeru."

"I didn't learn it from taking care of him, y'know." confused, you looked at him, his eyes looking somewhere far. "i learned it from you." he stood up, stretching and looked down on your sitting figure.

"c'mon n/n-chan. before they remember who i am-"

"excuse me. you're oikawa tooru, right?"

a highschool girl shyly stood with her group of friends, their phones clutched to their chests. somehow this reminded you of the days when he was innocently playing volleyball with iwaizumi, until a bunch of girls came from the vending machines, clutching boxes of milk in different flavors, some holding milk bread in their hands. you deadpanned when you realize they were holding out their phones for you to take their picture.

"tooru. you better treat me food after this, okay?" he knew your look. the one that made him gulp and feel threatened. "yes, of course, n/n-chan."

and so he did, and before you know it, it was getting dark. the two of you were in the apartment, the credits rolling just like every other times the two of you bonded.

"today was fun."

it's always fun with you. "sure was."

now, unlike before, the silence was deafening. "have you ever wondered.. how things would've worked out if you did something different in the past?"

your question caught him off guard and he tensed up before he suck into the couch. "not really." a lie.

"it might weigh down on me too much if i did."

your chuckle came sad, a hint of pain under it. "i see." now the atmosphere was too quiet. the movie has rolled its credits, the TV flashing a selection of movies again.

painful. it was painfully obvious that something is wrong and you couldn't help but want to cry.

"do you.. remember-"

"will you come?"

your voice was unsure, shaky, loud, when you looked at him with tears in your eyes. "you will, right?" his heart cracked. he knew this would happen already. he flashed a soft smile before taking you in his arms.

"of course i will. it's the wedding of my favorite n/n-chan after all. besides, you know i.."

he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his thumb wiping your tears gently. there was something lonely about his movements, the way he caressed you, as if saying 'this is the last time', or maybe a temporary goodbye. he held you closer, his warmth enveloping you.

"i will always be there."

TRAVELLERS: @doodleniella @kenmakodzu @lyzzklm @mfcassandra @oikaw-ugh @seijohlogy @thesecondapplepienation

[daintykeith]

DESERVING

Title: Deserving

Summary: A one-shot love story featuring Arthur Morgan and John Marston in which John struggles to understand Arthur's new behavior around camp.

Word count: 1.6k+

Notes: mild cursing | feedback is appreciated!!!

Tags: @southernlynxx @rdr-secret-cupid

I’m your secret cupid, @southernlynxx !!! I'm so sorry this took forever dear; the past few weeks have been totally insane and out of my hands to control. I chose your first wish and decided to mix it up with some good reassurance (happy) angst which i found fitting for the theme; 

John trying to understand & accept Arthur’s affection around camp! I hope you enjoy it, happy late Saint Valentine’s day!!!

P.D → I was inspired by this photo I took in my game! Totally worth it.

John never thought it would be like this.

At first, it was awkward—maybe bizarre. But that was just the beginning.

As the sun rose from the West, John walked out of his tent like a dead man; dark bags under his eyes and scratching his side, yawning without shame. Thirty minutes of sleep—or less—felt great. Just what he needed, right? Taking guarding rounds at night for the past few weeks to avoid him. Yes, that man. The one who had become his greatest relief and headache at the same time, Arthur Fucking Morgan.

While John agonized, Arthur was at his best. Refreshed, clean, and glowing like a damn pearl who had found its way to the surface, gleaming under the Sun—too shiny for John’s liking. Thankfully, his tormenting and seductive eyes were nowhere to be found yet. But, why was John avoiding him as if he was a pest? It’s complicated, you’ll understand later on.

John walked to the empty soup cauldron and grabbed the coffee pot next to it and a metallic cup nearby. He sighed as he sipped from the coffee he had just poured himself; feeling the smoke coming off his mouth like locomotor steam. He needed it to be functional, it had become his coal and main source of energy.

He stood next to the fire in the common area, waiting for Dutch to give a speech he had asked everyone the night before to hear. Why the hell would he give a speech so early in the morning when even the rooster hadn’t yet given his call to the sky? He wondered, staring his distorted reflection in the coffee in his hand.

It was a quiet morning, everyone who woke up, quickly waved at John and left to grab a coffee, or so it remained until the feared one appeared. He walked graciously without effort, his shirt had some buttons undone that showed his chest and collarbone, looking like a damn angel. He rinsed his face and John saw with detail from afar how every drop of water dripped down his face and neck. It made him thirsty. That man was no other than Arthur Morgan.

Arthur ran his hand through his hair and over his nape. To John, that man could’ve been the Devil himself walking on Earth, an angel who had fallen from Heaven for his ego. He was too full of himself, afly in making everyone blush in a moment’s notice. Before John could realize, Arthur was staring at the red in his cheeks and grinned, satisfied from his reaction.

“Damn you!” John whispered, looking anywhere but at him as he burned his tongue and narrowed his eyes.

Arthur, with his smug grin, quickly grabbed his coffee and sat next to the fire a few feet away from John, who didn’t know Arthur was just mesmerized with his foolishness, head over heels for a stubborn and reckless but loveable little piece of shit—a nickname truthful to his nature. A true rascal! Against his better judgement and all prognostics, an all-standing jinx befell upon him like rain in a desert.

He admired John from the ground, his strong jawline, the scars on his cheek that ran to his nose and the corner of his lips. However, his foul mouth didn’t catch up with his beauty—quick witted and far too fast for his train of thought that always got him in trouble. Arthur drank from his coffee and looked at John in the eye who, this time, didn’t turn their gaze away but held it dearly.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” John asked with his raspy voice, trying to sound uninterested but contradicted by the widened pupils in his curious eyes.

A walking contradiction, Arthur thought with a grin. “Wanna’ know?” He took a long swig of his cup and let it sit in his lap.

John hesitated for a moment.  "No." Nevermind.

The blue-greened eye man cleaned the corner of his mouth with his thumb and licked it and slightly blushed. "What a shame."

John couldn't stop staring Arthur, something had lit in the corner of his mind.

"Anyway, what does Dutch want this early in the morning?"

"Don't know, don't care."  Arthur rolled his eyes and looked at his feet.

John gulped, bothered by Arthur's sudden behavior to which he decided to blind the eye on.

"He's been acting... strange," John mutters, making a long pause.

He was right. Dutch had changed; it was the gleam in the eye he had always told them to not have—those of an ambition far too great, burned by being too close to the Sun. Everybody had noticed but kept quiet, making a silent agreement in not talking about the matter. John had a hunch of what it meant, but also kept quiet.

"No more than you; what's going on with ya'? Did the wolves eat the brain whole? You've been avoiding me!"

Did he notice? He knew he wasn't hiding the fact so well, but admitting it hurt his pride.

"The hell you sayin'?! No, I haven't!"

Arthur smiled in response, as if it was the answer he was expecting.

"Why?"

John narrowed his eyes.

"Why what?"

"You know."

He stood up, spilt the coffee left in his cup into the fire and slowly walked to John. His body swung with temptation, a fierce cat-walk with a daring look in his eyes.  John felt like his feet were stuck to the ground, unable to take just one step aside to avoid the storm walking straight to him. His metallic eyes were bewitched by  Arthur's; he sure knew how to charm him every damn time.

He didn't stop until he towered over John, trapping him with his voluptuous figure.

"Why are you so shy?" He whispered to John in the ear with a burning breath that heated and tinted his cheeks in deep red.

John forgot how to breath. He was so close that he felt their bodies touch and their minds collide.

"I, uh..."

"you what, dear?"

How shameless could the bastard be? Didn't he have any limit?

"I don't wanna talk here; let's go somewhere else." John imposed in a soft mutter.

"Alright."

They went to John's tent taking hands. They were cramped in such a small place, where their breathing burned eachother's skin and only a dim light shined through the entrance. A long pause arrived when the world had seemed to stop rotating and time had gone somewhere else, making everything but them oblivious and unimportant.

"I don't understand why are you doing this," John said with long sigh, finally giving in.

John rested his head in Arthur's shoulder, feeling his body finally relax after the tense moment.

"I thought we were a secret, ya' know?" he muttered, "a thing only you and I knew. Our thing."

Arthur combed his fingers through John's black hair, softly caressing the back of his head and humming in agreement.

"I don't seem to understand why you smile at me every time you see me or why you, like, want to touch me every time you can—or when you look at me like that."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No! I, ugh... I don't know."

Arthur chuckled. “I get it.”

John sighed in relief. Did it mean he would stop acting weird? I mean, Arthur would always be a bastard no matter how you look at it, but he called it an improvement.

“I'm sorry” he continued ”, but there's no stopping me in loving you.”

What. In. The. World. That's not what he meant!

“Arthur, you're not listening—”

“Every damn word, of course I do...”

“Then why are you doing this?!” John buried his head deeper, frustrated. “I'm an asshole, okay, I get it. But that's not a reason for you to do this to me.” Enchanting me, making me drunk with every word you whisper. Damn you.

“John, I—”

“I don't deserve it.”

A long silence between them came to be except for the more recurrent footsteps outdoors, stumping into the grass and dirt. John held tighter to Arthur, who stepped back only to take a closer look to his face, eye to eye.

“Listen closely, you little piece of shit.”

John flinched to the sudden grab by his collar, wanting to look away but Arthur only held his gaze closer.

"There's no denying that you are an idiot— but my idiot. I'm a fool myself, an old dirty bastard that's only getting older with every day that goes by, thinking that I'm the happiest man alive every damn time I look at you and even though I know I don't deserve it either. I ain't a good man, John. And you fucking know it." He grabbed his collar stronger as if it was a threat, with that dead look in his eyes that had seen the deeds their owner had done.

After Arthur realized what he did, he let John go.

“If it was about deserving, John, you would've never been mine."

He gently took John's hand laid it in his face, placing a gentle kiss in the back of his hand.

John couldn't speak a word. His mind had gone blank except for the beautiful image of Arthur lovingly playing with his fingers, laying kisses in the tip of his fingers, and the words that uttered in the corners of his mind, echoing Arthur's whispers.

"I'm sorry, John. But I beg you, let this damn fool love you and show it to you."

John placed his hand in Arthur's earlobe. As if both had read their minds, they looked into each other's eyes before leaning into a soft, gentle kiss.

Their kisses never tasted sweet. It was rough, with sweat and blood that was so common in there lives. Neither of them deserved the sweet taste of paradise, but they were making one of their own.

“You make me feel like a fool, Arthur.”

“You too.”

John wished this moment lasted forever. He wanted to enjoy the moment when their souls had gotten closer, but a voice outside called.

“Arthur, John, Where are you?!” Dutch called, irritated of waiting.

They separated and held each other's gaze for a moment.

“We should go,” John whispered tenderly as he rolled he eyes.

“Let's go,” Arthur chuckled.

Arthur gently held John's hand before heading out of the tent, ready for the world.