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hauntedpearl · 1 year

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Endverse, Kind of MCD, 2.4kwords, Gen (ao3)

At the end of everything, there is still him. Cas. There is still Cas.

It's just that Dean doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse.

His brother — Lucifer — is long gone. So is the other him. The one whose world hasn't gone to all shit yet. Who still has the chance to do the right thing.

Dean hopes he's doing it — whatever it is, because he sure as hell can't figure it out, even now.

Hopes that whatever happens, it doesn't end like this.

It hurts to move, hurts to breathe, hurts to think.

(He's doing all those things anyway. What else is new?)

"Reckless," Cas hisses from somewhere to his left. "I fucking told you it was reckless."

Dean doesn't respond, stares at up at the sky instead.

It's a good sky, all this considered. Here, at the end of everything.

Cloudless, and blue, like the world on the cusp of a warm summer. Like ice cream on a park bench. Sunglasses and sundresses.

Like his —

Like Cas' eyes. Or like they used to be.

It's a nice blue, is all.

Dean's glad to be looking at it.

"Sorry," he says, and his throat is scratched and torn, voice drenched in his own blood. He swallows, tries not to choke on it. Then, "Should've — Should've just stayed back, huh?"

Cas laughs, and it sounds like the rattling of the world. Like it hurts.

Dean's sure it does. Cas had looked like death warmed over when he'd crawled up to Dean on his hands and knees after everything, collapsing at his side.

He'd sighed, and the world went quiet, and it was selfish, but Dean was so fucking glad to have him, just then. Beside him. With him. Here, at the end of everything.

Dean doesn't know what exactly happened to Cas — if it was demons or the Croats or even Lucifer himself. Or a shitty fucking combination of the three. Cas won't tell, he knows, and Dean's not going to waste his last breaths asking.

It's the end of everything. And Dean's just glad for the company.

"Like that was ever a choice," Cas says, now, and he sounds bitter. He sounds helpless. A little smug, too. Sounds a lot like he has been for the past couple of years.

Dean blinks, drinking in the sky one last time. Rolls his neck so he's facing Cas instead.

"Fuck!" he swears, because it hurts like a motherfucker but atleast he can see Cas now. He can look at his face — human, and divine, all at once. It looks bashed in. Dean tries to not focus on that. Or the trickle of blood that carves its way down his chin. Tries to look at his eyes instead. The whites are shot with red — a burst blood vessel, if Dean would have to guess — but the irises are as blue as ever. Not the same as the sky, no, but close enough.

Dean loves them, always has. Loves looking at them.

"Of—Of course it was a choice," he says, now. "I — I didn't m—make you."

Cas smiles at him, close-mouthed, all bloody lips and regret. "Oh, you did, Dean. You always have."

And Dean knows what he means. Understands.

(He doesn't want to, though. But that's nothing new, either.)

"Th—Think you've got one last miracle in you, Cas?" he asks, and it's mostly in jest. But—

If—

Well.

Here's the thing about life— it can suck as all hell, but you'll still want to keep living it. All the time in the world, and it'll still never be enough. And Dean's here, at the end of everything, on purpose. By design. He chose this. Still — somewhere underneath all that hurt and hopelessness and the drive to just end it, he wants to live.

He's always wanted to.

He'll keep wanting to until there's nothing left of him to want with.

Cas pauses for a moment, almost like he's taking stock. Then, "No," he says. Groans as he turns onto his injured side, facing Dean. "'Fraid we ran out of those a while ago."

Just as well, Dean thinks.

Who knows what else he'd have had to endure if they did live to see another day. Atleast there's the sky, on this day.

Atleast there's Cas.

"Did he make it?" Cas asks. Coughs. Sprays blood everywhere. A drop of it lands on Dean's cheek.

Dean watches him as he wheezes, moans. Quiets a little. His eyes grow slightly unfocused.

It hurts to look at him.

Dean keeps looking anyway.

An angel who smote demons with a thought, reduced to the indignities of mortality by his calloused, human hands. Dean's done a lot of fucked up shit in his life but this — this takes the cake. When he's back on the racks in Hell this time, and for good, he'll deserve ever fucking second of it.

"Yeah," he says, shaking himself a little. "Yeah, he did. Just in time, too."

"Good," Cas breathes. Lets his eyes slip close. "That's — that's good."

There on his lashes is a tear.

Dean looks at it — a little universe on the edge of Cas' lashes. It's silver and blue, and shines in the light of the day. Dean wishes he was in it.

He thinks about the other version of him who went back in time. He wonders if he'd fix the fuckfest that this world has become. If it's even possible to fix it.

He wonders if it would matter.

Once, when things hadn't been so bad, Cas would talk to him about these things — Timelines and multiverses and the effect of the flapping of a single butterfly's wings. He bets Cas would know what would happen if the other Dean made a different choice this time around.

Bets he would know if it would matter.

Then, the tear rolls down Cas' cheek, across his nose. Falls to the ground in a bloody splash.

It's all — it's too much. It's overhwhelming.

"Cas—," he calls. Cas hums. Doesn't open his eyes. Dean wants him to open his eyes. Wants to look at the blue of them. He wants to see them smile, one last time. He wants —

"Lo—look at me, man."

"No," Cas says. There's the tinge of something horrid in his tone. Dean hates himself for being responsible for it. For being responsible for everything.

"Pl—Ple-ase, Cas," he begs.

Cas breathes. Dean watches his bruised chest swell, the slight rise in his shoulders. The way his too-long hair, matted and sweaty and bloody, flops in a lazy curve over his forehead.

Then, he opens his eyes.

Duller, now, but there, atleast.

Yes. There.

"Hey there, Cas," Dean says. Tries to smile. The skin across his bones stretches painfully.

Cas' face softens, then. Something that mirrors Dean's own smile carves itself into his bloody cheeks. There's something old, and quiet, and familiar about the shift. "Hello, Dean," he says, and Dean's heart lurches.

There you are, he thinks. There's my Cas.

After all these years. After everything.

It's still him, it's still them. At the end of it all.

Dean doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse. He doesn't know.

He's not a big fan of deathbed confessions, but — well. Here they are. Cas is fading, he can tell, and his own thoughts are starting to scatter. They don't have long and this — this one thing.

Well. Dean's life has always been a cliche filled nightmare. Why would it be any different now?!

"C—Cas. I wanna—," he starts. Pauses when his breath sticks against the sharp edges of his broken ribs. Groans. Forces himself to keep going.

Just a moment, he prays to a God who's never listened. Give me one fucking moment.

"Dean?" Cas calls. Watches him struggle to breathe. "Dean!" He crawls closer, wiggling on his side. Presses a shaky palm to Dean's chest. Something cracks under his hands but somehow, somehow, the breath whooshes out of him.

He gasps. Then gasps again. And again.

"Th—Thought we were out of miracles," he manages between breaths.

"Wasn't one," Cas replies.

"Right. O—Okay."

But it feels like one, anyway. Every fucking thing about Cas feels like a fucking miracle.

The world is quiet, and Dean's dying under a bright blue sky, Cas' hand on his chest.

That feels like a miracle, too. And, well, isn't that something.

"Thank you," Dean says, after a moment. "For. Fo— for everything. I ne-ver do s-ay it—," and he doesn't. Dean doesn't. Even on frenzied nights that they spend trying to sate the hunger buried under their skins, or the morning-afters when the world is quiet and soft, and easy, if only for a moment. Dean never says it. He's a right fool for not saying it. "B—but. I couldn't — Not without you."

That didn't make sense, he thinks.

Cas just looks at him, his hooded eyes fending off exhaustion, fighting to stay open.

For him, Dean tries again. Says, "Every— every day. Always. I've needed you. And you've been here. Even when I — I didn't de-deserve it. Even — now. I need you, and you're here. You're always here. So— th-thank you. I just—," he trails off.

Cas is quiet.

Dean wonders if maybe he's gone. If perhaps the slight light in his eyes is not life but the echo of it. He cannot stand the thought. It keeps coming at him anyway.

Wake up, Dean pleads. Prays. Say something!

Then, Cas laughs.

And the world keeps spinning. If only for another moment.

"Fuck you, Dean Winchester," he says, and it bleeds the anger and resentment Dean's poured into him for years. "Fuck you. I do— don't. I don't accept your confession. I will not— grant you — this— this absolution."

Dean wants to think that he isn't seeking absolution. But he doesn't know anymore.

Maybe he is. Maybe he wants to be forgiven. Maybe he wants to know that it was alright to want Cas. To love him. To need him.

To be told that it was excuse enough for everything.

Dean laughs, too, then. Because what else is there to do.

His bones rattle in his chest under Cas' hand. He wonders if Cas can feel them. If he can feel the way his heart slows.

"Do what you wa-nt, ass-hole," he says. "For-Forgive me for try-ing, I guess."

"No," Cas says. Heaves himself closer, still. "I won't. It's all too late."

Yeah, okay.

That much is true. It's the truest thing of all.

It is.

It really is too damn late.

"I know," Dean says. "I'm so-sorry."

And he is. He's so fucking sorry. He wishes— Well.

What does it matter anyway.

Then— he screams.

Pain blooms in his chest, sharp and bright, and the edges of his vision turn white. He tries to move, but cannot. Tilts his head down, just so. Watches as Cas presses his palm flat against his chest and pushes once more.

Another scream tears out of his throat.

Cas uses his leverage to push himself closer, until he's flush against Dean's side. He drops unceremoniously, then, sprawling on his stomach, his body half on top of Dean's broken ribs. His chin settles on Dean's shoulder, and Dean feels his every laboured breath against his neck and collarbone.

"I hate you," Cas says. Wheezes, really. "But I—," and Dean thinks Don't. Don't say the word. " I guess— Guess I needed you, too."

Dean's relieved when Cas borrows his words. His arm's pinned between their bodies but he wiggles his fingers until he's got a fistful of Cas' shirt in his hands.

"'S'alright," he says to him. "'S'okay. I'll t-take it."

There's only Cas' messy hair in his line of sight, so he closes his eyes. Counts the dark spots on the back of his eyelids so he doesn't fall asleep.

Not yet, he begs his body. Not yet. Not yet.

"Hey, Cas?" he asks.

"Hmm?"

"Th-think they'll figure it o-ut in ti-me?"

"The other ones?"

"Yeah," Dean says. Thinks about the ease in his other self's skin that seemed to have left him forever ago. Wonders if he's sane enough to make use of it while it's still there.

"I—I don't know," Cas says. Dean hears rustling as he moves against his side. (It doesn't hurt so much, anymore. Everything's numb.) Cas pushes himself up, and Dean feels the tip of his nose against his cheek. Cas' forehead falls against his temple. Dean presses into the touch. "I hope so."

"Yeah," Dean says. "Me-me, too."

Dean thinks about what it could've been like, if they'd figured it out sooner. If they'd had the luxury to figure it out. What his future could've looked like.

A log cabin, he thinks. Some place to come home to. Hunting together, maybe. Holidays where he would cook. A guitar. Birthday sex, and pie, and holding hands under the covers. A couch. Dean would've loved a good couch. Memory foam on the bed.

Dean loses himself in this dream that seems real, and vivid, and bright. So fucking bright. Brings his lax hand up to the Cas' on his chest. Threads their fingers together.

"Sing for me," Cas asks. Curls his fingers around Dean's. Holds tight.

Dean's too far gone to sing. So he hums instead.

Cas mouths the lyrics against the skin of his neck.

Take a sad song, and make it better.

They tried, he thinks. Despite everything. They did try.

The sky is the kind of blue that means sandalled feet, and busy beaches. But Dean's not looking at it anymore.

At the end of everything, there's still him. There's still Cas.

And the sound of a song in the air.

It's not too bad, when all's said and done. It's not bad at all.

#doe's writing #destiel fic #endverse #mcd #end of all things or whatever #i watched eeaao and had the first line of this fic stuck in my head and also A Concept!#so i wrote it!#it's not going on ao3 bc I'm not convinced of its quality rn but maybe eventually #should I even tag my taglist I DON'T KNOE #I'LL LEAVE IT UP AND WE'LL SEE AFTER A NAP #okay thanks i hope you like it!.#spn fic #this one is sad!#angst

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smallblueandloud · 5 months

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i keep feeling like. there's something parallel between rose and yaz's endings. maybe parallel isn't the right word -- but i keep wanting to draw comparisons, i think because they're two characters who really defined specific doctors and for whom it's basically confirmed the doctor returned their (romantic) feelings

(they're not the ONLY ones who fit this description, but i'm in no way qualified to talk about clara or even river, so bear with me)

it just feels. i don't know. rose never leaves on purpose. she is separated from the doctor, forcibly, every single time. the doctor sends her home, or she gets stuck in an alternate universe, or the doctor leaves her in the same alternate universe. every single time, she fights to get back to the doctor. the writers had to create a perfect happy ending for her (half-human version of her doctor who'll age along with her, in the alternate universe where her father is alive) because otherwise she wouldn't stop fighting to get back to the doctor, and the show can't have that. the show needs to move on. we need rose to fade into the past.

i haven't seen all of yaz's episodes, but her arc seems very similar from the limited amount i've seen. she keeps fighting to get back to the doctor. she's in love with the doctor, and the doctor basically confirms returning her feelings, albeit in a very stilted, hesitant, doctor-y way (compare "imagine that happening to someone you--" with "and if i was going to, believe me, it would be with you").

but when yasmin's doctor regenerates... yaz is just expected to. step away, go back to living her life, never see the doctor again. kinda like the abandonment that most companions have ever experienced -- getting dropped off once and then goodbye forever! -- except with more of the onus on her. the show has to move on from rose's era, so she gets dumped on a beach. the show has to move on from yasmin's era, so yaz has to accept that the doctor is going off to die alone. she has to make her peace with that information.

i don't know. i think yaz's ending is trying to go hand-in-hand with graham and ryan's purposeful exit -- it seems like the chibnall era tried really hard to have Not Terrible endings for companions. which is very admirable! but honestly? yasmin's ending feels crueler than most, including rose's. yaz was in love with the doctor. the doctor reciprocated those feelings. they should've gotten their equivalent of s2-era 10rose! she should've gotten a chance to stay with the doctor through their regeneration, the way other love interests have been able to (s/o to river and clara!).

i know this is because of the limitations of the show. bad ratings meant chibnall left after only one regeneration, and new incarnations of the show rarely bring in characters from other eras.

but i'm still very sad for yaz :( like yes, she wasn't just dumped on the curb without warning. but she was still expected to say goodbye to someone she loved, knowing that person was dying, and not say a word of protest. if the previous history of the show is any indication, she's never going to see the doctor again. she doesn't get a half-human version of the doctor to live out her days with, and she's not "allowed" to fight to get back to the doctor, either, due to the way the show's structured (but also the way the doctor talked about them saying goodbye). she has to live the rest of her life knowing that the doctor is out there, perfectly capable of visiting, and the only reason they won't visit is because yaz is from a specific time of their life that they've moved on from.

i know she has the companion support group. and i know she'll move on! she's yaz. she's strong and self-actualized. she'll be okay, eventually. but she has to be okay, you know? she has to learn to live without the doctor. rose never had to do that.

it just makes me sad :(

#doctor who #thasmin #yasmin khan #thirteen x yaz #i guess maybe this post can be summed up by ''yaz is kinda the (nuwho) doctor's first actual ex. and her being an ex makes me sad :(''#sb and l rambles #sb and l watches dw #this post has been brimming for awhile but i sat down to write dw fic tonight and went ''i can't do this without talking about yasmin''#i'm not criticizing the show necessarily. i know why they had to make these choices.#i think i do prefer for 13 and yaz's ''breakup'' to be a mutual understanding as opposed to 13 leaving her on a curb w/out any warning #they were doing the best they could with a limited hand #it just makes me sad :( and it makes me hope that they mention yaz in the next season #essbie? hoping the show calls back to a love interest that isn't rose?? it's more likely than you think!#i am just so attached to yaz. i didn't expect to be but god she's so great and she just gets dealt such a difficult hand :(#and she copes with it! of course she does! ....but rose never had to deal with that kind of difficulty.

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mishapen-dear · 7 months

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just watched the moment bbh read forever's letter to him from the brazil trip. the disgusted EAH sound he made is going to echo in my mind forever and always that was SUCH a SOUND. here he was all excited and soft because he got a letter from forever and then forever mentions the fucking kidnapping and bbh turns into a scorned french woman from ratatouille who has just one sound to express her ~snobbish~ disgust at a ktichen full of rats. but it wasn't a kitchen of rats he was mad at it was forever giving him a shit sandwich shit-side up

#the way he THREWW the book back into the mailbox #made the sound as he turned away #like the little richas head flick was given Audio #man was so so sad about forever not leaving him a message #not even a flower #and then so sweetly hopeful at the new book #and then #the sims --friendship image #fucking hysterical i'm obsessed with him and their entire deal #shit sandwich is when you give good news then bad news then good news again btw #to make the bad news easier to take #it works the same with bad ideas or unpleasant concepts #like 'hey don't hurt that one guy you kidnapped'#qsmp #qsmp badboyhalo #i love forever i need to get better at portuguese i want to write a fic for him So Badly #hes just a lil guy #who likes another lil guy #and both of them like to project their protective parental feelings onto a third lil guy #who was kidnapped and briefly brutally tortured before being beloved by one of them #tho tbh im still on the ron lemons luncheon train i just think that's so awesome

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pastafossa · 6 months

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hi pasta, loved the final raven chapters!

you said that you're thinking about writing a sequel - would that mean that we'd get to see jane and matt after they've come home?

cause i would be so interested to read that and seeing how they get to heal together <3 xx

Thank you SO SO MUCH! 🥰🥰🥰

I am, I've got a tentative outline I'm working on! Currently it's looking like it would explore a little of them in the hospital and then back at home as they both angstily struggle at first to heal from all the trauma they both have now before coming to the realization that sometimes true love doesn't always fix things by itself and you need to ask for More Help do absolutely fine, with snapshots of the next year or so as they work on healing (mirroring the snapshot method of the Raven fic). The good news is this one's looking like a full happy ending fic, like not TA DA rainbows but it ends on a really good, strong note for them both!

#I'm decently optimistic about the outline and the sequel #and the ending will be a more solidly happy one #because if the first fic was Dante's Inferno then these will hew closer to Purgatory and Paradise #aka it'll still be reallly dark for a bit cause DAMN they went through some pain #there'll be some REALLY rough points BUT they won't be rough points in a 'thinking of leaving way' but just a like...#dealing with trauma and rage and grief and brainwashing kinda way where you know they'll make it but it's sad still #and then eventually they'll start winding their way up #and back into the light

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perexcri · 8 months

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happy one year to her and one of my better opening lines for a fic <3

now, because i'm curious:

#to hell and back again #i genuinely can't believe it's a year but i guess that's how time works huh :')#anyway umm gonna leave some retrospective thoughts in the tags:#1. i hold this fic near to my heart but also have a very complicated relationship with it now-#mostly bc i feel like my writing has improved so much and it's hard for me to reread parts of this lol #2. i honestly feel like it's a product of its time? like i think if i was publishing it now people wouldn't like it nearly as much #(especially with the opening line wHICH HAS A POINT AND COMES FULL CIRCLE AT THE END OK JUST TRUST ME)#3. on a sadder note this also means it's been a year since we had to put my family's eldest dog down #i remember i was gonna post this first chapter later when i had finished another fic up #but then our dog just like. straight up started dying on my mom's bedroom floor #and my mom was too distressed/upset to take her to the vet so i had to put her in my car and take her on my own #and then had to go to work right after that #so yeah i was upset and was like 'well dammit im gonna post this then bc it's silly and makes me laugh and i am sad'#so yeah!! some thoughts and behind the scenes info for anyone who's bothered to read this many tags #idk these things just feel like Tags thoughts not Post thoughts #anyway thanks for all the love this one has gotten!! i'm glad people are still enjoying it though *will voice* it's been a year mike #byler

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johnsbleu · 11 months

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Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 155

warnings: dual pov, john wick chapter four spoilers (if you haven’t seen it and don’t want spoilers, do not read!) mentions of vomiting HMH masterlist

The lines at Disneyland haven’t been too bad. Thankfully the babies have been in great mood as well--considering the jet lag and warm weather, you’re fully surprised that Ronan has been so good. You’re sure she’s just happy to finally see you and John again. She slept in bed with the two of you last night since neither of you wanted to let her go, even just for the night. Being away from her was a lot harder than you expected, but at least you managed a couple days alone with John.

“What should we ride first?” you ask John, and he just chuckles and looks down at Ronan in his arms.

When he first mentioned Disneyland, it never crossed your mind that she wouldn’t be able to go on rides. You were too busy thinking about how excited you were to be going. But John assured you that Ronan will be able to go on plenty of things as long as the two of you hold her. It’ll mostly be tame little boat rides, but you don’t mind that. You planned on going on them anyway, you might as well bring her along with.

“Dude!” Jimmy taps John’s shoulder and points at a roller coaster, “We gotta go!”

“I wanna go!” Tess raises her hand and looks at you, “Goose?”

You smile, nodding your head, “Yeah, of course.”

John inhales deeply and nods, “Yeah, I’m up for it.”

“I wanna ride with you,” Tess says over her shoulder, and you nod. “The boys can ride together.”

The line is long but after waiting about 15 minutes you’re finally up to the front. You stand next to Tess and smile at John, who is just looking at you with not much expression on his face.

“You good?” you ask, and he nods his head, giving you a thumbs up. “You sure? You’re quiet.”

“I’m good, peach.” he smiles, then he leans down and kisses you. “Don’t get too scared.”

You gasp, “I would never!”

The gates open and people filter into their carts, and you sit in one in front of John and Jimmy. You get your belt on and try to look back to see John but since he’s sitting directly behind you, you can’t see him. You look over your shoulder more and see Jimmy talking to him and laughing. Hopefully John is okay.

As the ride takes off, the air is filled with laughter and screams--the screaming is mostly Jimmy at this point. You hold hands with Tess and throw your hands up in the air as you go through the twists and turns, and you squeeze her hand tighter when you see the first big dipping coming up. You both scream with laughter and look at one another.

Leaning over, you yell over the wind blowing in your face, “Is John okay? Can you see him?”

Tess turns a little and nods her head, “Yeah, he’s smiling.”

The smile on your face grows bigger before you scream loudly and drop down the next dip, your stomach doing a little flip. Your hair is a mess on your head by the time the coaster is going back to the station, and you laugh when you see Tess’ blonde curls all in her face.

“We gotta go again,” Jimmy says before he’s even out of his seat.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Tess grabs his arm and hugs it, “I’m riding with you this time!”

Before you can tell them that you’re good, they’re running off to get in line again. John reaches down and helps you out, making sure you’ve found your footing, then he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“Your hair is a mess.”

“I know, I should have worn it up. I have some hair ties in my bag.” you say, then you look at him, immediately stopping and widening your eyes when you see his face is pale as a ghost, “Are you okay?”

John stops and turns to you, “Yeah, why?”

“John, your face…” you put your hand over your mouth and laugh, “Baby, you’re so pale.”

“I’m okay. I just need some water.”

You reach up and cup his cheek before pressing your palm to his forehead, “Sweetheart, you look sick.”

“I’m okay,” he whispers, and you look into his eyes again.

“Babe,” you begin to worry more as you look at him, “You look like you’re going to throw up.”

John reaches out for the railing and swallows, “I’m okay.”

“You have motion sickness, Jonathan.” your mom says, and you look over your shoulder at her. “Honey, you need to sit down.”

“Think he’s okay?” Jimmy jokes, and you playfully slap his arm.

You walk over to the stroller and grab your bottle of water, then you gesture for John to sit on the bench. He takes the water and finishes what’s left in it, and Dan hands him another bottle. You pour a little water onto a napkin and gently dab it against John’s cheek and forehead.

“I don’t want everyone to make a big fuss,” he says quietly to you, and you nod your head.

“Hey, if you guys want to go ahead, that’s fine. We’re just gonna hang out here.” you wave your hand, “Go on. We’ll catch up.”

John rests his elbows on his knees and puts his head down, “Holy shit, I’m gonna throw up.”

“Bathroom is right there,” you rub his back and smile softly when he looks at you, and he gets up and hurries off.

Tess looks back and gives you a thumbs up, asking if you’re okay. You give her a thumbs up and laugh when she holds up her phone. You’ll text her when John gets back.

Loud groups of children decked out in Disney attire and their tired parents move past as you wait for John on the bench, and you finally see him coming back out. He lets out a small laugh when you perk up.

“I’m fine,” he laughs, sitting down next to you.

“I didn’t realize roller coasters made you sick.”

John laughs, “You and me both. First time on one.”

“What?” you gasp loudly, causing a few people to look over but you don’t care. “John! You’ve never been on a roller coaster before?”

“When would I have ever been on a roller coaster?” he asks, and you both laugh.

You nod, “Yeah, that makes sense. I guess there wasn’t much time for that back then, huh? Well, I won’t make you go on any other rides.”

“I still want to go on rides with Ro,” he says, patting your thigh, “But they are nothing like that one.”

A small laugh escapes your lips as you look up at it, “Yeah, it was a pretty intense one for your first roller coaster. You’re lucky mom isn’t over here. If she knew that it was your first ride, she’d take your picture standing next to the sign like you’re five.”

“Yeah, definitely don’t want that.”

“I can’t believe you just went on a ride and didn’t even tell me that it was your first.”

John shrugs, “Didn’t want to be left out, or seem like I was holding everyone back or something.”

“We would never think that, babe,” you reach over and press your hand to his cheek, “You feel better?”

“I do,” he nods, and you lean over to kiss his cheek, “Yeah, might want to rinse my mouth out first. Thanks for staying with me.”

“Of course.” you smile at him, and he rolls his eyes when you start to laugh, “I’m sorry! I just didn’t expect you to be sick after the first ride. I didn’t know! Had I know, I wouldn’t have gone on it.”

John squeezes your thigh, “It’s fine. Should we go find everyone? Maybe take Ro on a ride.”

“Yeah, I think she’ll like the Peter Pan ride.” you stand up and reach for his hands to pull him up from the bench, “I think you’ll be okay on that one.”

“You don’t get sick?”

You scoff, “Hell no! My mom used to get us wristbands for this amusement park every summer. Tess and I would spend the whole day there. Mom would pack us a bag with snacks for the day, drop us off, and pick us up at 8. We rode everything. But I do know something you can ride that won’t make you sick.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” John looks down at you. You start to smirk as you point to yourself, and he laughs, “You?”

“Yup!”

John chuckles, shaking his head, “Nah, I think I have something you can ride.”

“Well, as long as you don’t throw up anymore today, I’m so down. Not really into vomit-breath.”

“I do have toothpaste, you know.” he jokes, and you laugh as you lean up to kiss him.

John was not too pleased to see how charming Flynn Rider was, but you thought it was pretty funny. Ronan absolutely loved him and thought he was very funny as well. She laughed and kicked her legs, and she even leaned over for him to take her. He and Rapunzel fawned over her, which made you tear up since Tangled is becoming her new favorite obsession lately. When you turn it on, she just sits quietly and watches it.

The plan is definitely for her to meet more princesses, but right now you’re taking her on her very first ride. You might have teared up a little. She’s sitting in John’s lap looking around at all of the pretty lights, and she’s squealing happily every so often.

“God, she’s getting so big.” you frown before leaning over to kiss her, “Stop growing up! You need to stay my little baby girl forever.”

John leans forward to see her face, “I hate it. I want her to stay little forever.”

“She’s getting so much personality though,” you say, smiling at the two of them, “She looks so much like you, babe.”

“You say that a lot, but I don’t think you realize how alike you two are,” he says, and you look at him, “She is so much like you too. She makes all these goofy faces just like you. She’s starting to look so much more like you too--that dimple is killing me.”

Ronan’s cheeks are squished when John hugs her and kisses her, then he points at the little Tinkerbell on the wall. She waves her hands in the air and dances along to the song, then she looks over at you like she’s waiting for you to dance. You rock a little in your seat and smile wide at her. When John joins in, she giggles loudly, showing off her two little teeth that have come in.

God, how does she already have teeth?

You frown a little thinking about how fast this is all going by. Soon she’ll be getting her license and going to prom. You absolutely hate it. Instead of focusing on that and how fast time flies, you scoot over and rest your cheek on John’s shoulder, laughing quietly every time Ronan squeals happily.

Even though you already saw a lot of the famous landmarks in Paris, you have no problem going to see them again. Your mom is dead-set on going to a few places in particular, so that’s what is on the agenda for today. The kids are in a stroller that is being pushed by her on the sidewalk. It probably wasn’t a great idea to put them in a stroller since the sidewalks are narrow but it’s better than carrying them or chasing Finn down when he runs off.

John is holding tight to your hand as the two of you walk behind everyone else, but he’s been…different today. Just really quiet. You noticed it last night actually, after dinner. Surely his stomach can’t hurt from Disneyland two days ago. It’s something else. He barely touched on his time in Paris--he really didn’t say anything other than after Helen, he stopped here. You don’t know exactly what happened in Paris but you can tell it was something big. You’d never straight up ask him since you don’t want to push him to talk about something he’s not ready to talk about.

“Soccer cure.” Jimmy says, and you furrow your brow.

“What?”

Jimmy laughs, “Soccer cure.”

“What is he saying?” you ask as you look at John, “He’s your best friend.”

John laughs and gestures to Tess, “He’s her husband.”

Tess rolls her eyes and laughs, “I have no clue. Sometimes I tune him out.”

“He means Sacré-Coeur,” John finally says, and you look up at him, “It’s the Basilica--”

You look at your mom with your brow furrowed, “Mom, isn’t that the picture that Grandma had in her living room?”

Your mom stops walking and turns to you, “Yes, and she was in love with it. She talked about how beautiful it was every time I went over there near the end before she…anyway, yes, and I want to go see it.”

“We will, honey.” Dan says, touching her arm.

“Turn right at the end of the street,” John says, and you look at him when his voice is so monotone. “It’ll lead you there.”

You lace your fingers with his and smile softly at him, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he says, avoiding looking at you.

“Okay,” you squeeze his hand before you let go of it and speed up a little to walk with Tess.

He doesn’t want to talk right now and that’s fine. You know when John needs his space. You won’t push him on it. You look over your shoulder at him as he shoves his hands in his pockets and stares ahead, a little crease in between his brows like he’s worried or overthinking. Jimmy ends up falling back to walk with John, and you link arms with Tess as you all continue down the street and turn where John tells you to.

“Oh, shit!” Jimmy starts to laugh, and you all look back at him as he nudges John’s arm, “You wanna take the stairs?”

You look back and see the staircase, then you look at John, “What about the stairs?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Jimmy says, and you furrow your brow in confusion, “John--”

John clears his throat and glances at your parents before looking at Jimmy, who is quick to pick up that John doesn’t want this information--whatever it is--to be broadcast in front of them.

“222 stairs.” your mom says, shaking her head, “Could you imagine going up those? How are we going to get up them with the stroller?”

You’re not an idiot and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out something happened on these stairs. John’s world and his past life is…incredibly insane.

You walk over to John and hold his gaze, “So, the stairs…”

“Yeah,” he takes a deep breath and finally lets out a small laugh, “The stairs.”

You cock up your brow and gesture with your hands, “Just a wild guess here, but this isn’t your first time seeing them.”

“Definitely not.”

“Hmm,” you nod your head and look up at the stairs.

John points, “You can go down a little and there’s a hill that you can go up instead. You’ll end up in the same place at the top.”

“Let’s do that.” your mom says, and Jimmy jogs over to get the stroller so he can push the kiddos.

“So,” you look at John and smile, “Hill or the stairs?��

John looks up at the stairs like they’re something he really needs to conquer, “You with me?”

“Always,” you put your hand out and smile when he laces his fingers with yours. You look over at the group and smile, “Meet you at the top.”

You and John head up the first set of steps in silence. They aren’t too bad--yet. That quickly changes after the second set.

“Hold on,” you hold your side and wince, “Side cramp.”

John leans against the light post and watches you, smiling when you look at him with one eye squeezed shut, “You good?”

“No!” you laugh and stand up straight, “How does someone do this?”

“Try doing it about three times in a row.”

You let out a loud laugh and give John an incredulous look, “No fucking thanks!”

John looks up the rest of the stairs and shakes his head, “Definitely didn’t think I’d see these stairs again.”

“Was Paris your last stop before home?” you ask, and John nods without looking at you. “So, it all ended here?”

“Yeah.” he says, but he doesn’t give you anything else.

You reach out and squeeze his hand, smiling softly when he looks at you, “We don’t have to talk about it.”

He looks back at the stairs, then he reaches for your hand as the two of you start your way up the next set of steps. He stops for a few moments to make sure you’re okay, then you head up the next set.

“Damn, my glutes are on fire!” you laugh breathlessly, looking over at John in hopes he’ll get a kick out of it, but he doesn’t even crack a smile.

He’s having a battle of his own in his head right now, so you just go silent and make it up the rest of the stairs. You really want to complain about how your feet hurt and your legs too, but you don’t. You just stay quiet and hold his hand.

“Hey!” Jimmy waves, then he bends over and puts his hands on his knees, “Holy shit, that hill is no joke. Stairs must be worse.”

“They certainly weren’t fun,” you say, letting go of John’s hand so you can push Ronan’s wispy brown hair out of her face as she sleeps in the stroller.

Tess leans against Jimmy and closes her eyes, “I’m passing out as soon as we get back to the hotel.”

“We have more places to see! Come on!” your mom walks past you with so much pep in her step that you wonder where the hell she gets all her energy.

Everyone follows behind your mom like she’s the teacher leading you all on a field trip. You lean down to check on Ronan and help carry the stroller up a few steps before you finally stand in front of the beautiful basilica. Your mom is tearing up and taking pictures of it, and Tess is too. She brought her fancy camera so she’s able to get some really good shots.

“Mom, can you get one of the three of us?” Tess asks as she hands her camera to your mom, but she puts her hands up and shakes her head. Tess looks at you and laughs, “She’s too scared to hold my camera. Would you mind?”

You take the camera and snap a few shots of Jimmy, Tess, and Finn, then you get some of shots of just Jimmy and Tess. Ronan fusses a little when she sees that Finn isn’t in the stroller now, so your mom gets her out.

“Want some pictures with your family?” Tess asks, taking the camera back.

“Yes! Of course.” you look over your shoulder and furrow your brow, spinning around in a circle in search of John, “John? John? Jonathan?”

Where the hell did he go? You wander around and call out his name a few more times until you finally spot him sitting on the steps. Looking over your shoulder, you put your hand up to let everyone know it’s okay and that you’ll be back. You head down the steps and sit next John, bumping his shoulder with yours.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he glances at you and looks out at the skyline, and you follow his gaze. “It’s beautiful here.”

You wrap your arms around your knees and nod, “It is.”

After a few moments of silence, John takes a deep breath, “Don’t you want to know all this stuff about me? Aren’t you wondering what happened on the stairs?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I want to know!”

“You just never ask,” he finally looks at you and shrugs. “And you always say we don’t need to talk about it.”

You turn to him and rest your hand on his arm, “Because I’m respecting your boundaries and past. I would never make you talk about this stuff, Jonathan. This is your life. These are big moments from your past. Big, tough, heartbreaking moments. I would never push you to talk about that stuff if you don’t want to. I want you to tell me everything. I want to know what you were doing May 9th, 2017! I want to know it all. Everything. Every detail. Even the ones you deem unimportant.

John nods, “I guess I started assuming that you just didn’t want to know. Most people would just ask--Jimmy does. I don’t tell you a lot because it’s hard. Hard for me to explain. Hard for you to hear. It’s just a hard thing overall.”

“I know,” you look down as he plays with your fingers, “But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, there’s nothing you can say that will scare me away. I’m in way too deep with you.”

“I’m not worried about scaring you,” he looks into your eyes and sighs, “I’m worried I’ll break your heart.”

Your heart immediately sinks, “Well, now you’ve scared me.”

John chuckles as he turns to face you more, “Not like that, peach.”

“You can’t play with a girl’s emotions like that, babe.” you laugh and jokingly wipe your brow, “Scared me.”

“I don’t know what I was doing May 9th, 2017,” he says, and you start to laugh, “But if you’d like to hear about Paris, I’ll tell you.”

You shake your head, “It’s not up to me. It’s up to you. It’s if you want to tell me. Of course I want to know. I want to know everything. But it’s not up to me. It’s you. If you want to tell me, then I’ll gladly sit and listen to you. You know me, I love to listen to you. And if you decide that this is something you want to keep for just you, for just John Wick, then I will respect that. You know that.”

“How are you so understanding?” he asks in disbelief.

You smile softly, “Because I really fucking love you.”

“Dada!” Ronan squeals loudly, and you both look back to see her holding Tess’ hands as she walks down the steps--Tess is really just holding her and helping.

You look back at John and smile, “Someone misses her favorite guy.”

“Hey, bug,” John takes Ronan and sets her in his lap, then he kisses her cheek. He looks over at you and tucks your hair behind your ear before he leans over to kiss you. “Last time I was here, I thought this was the end. I thought that would be the last sunrise I’d ever see. My only thought was…”

You smile when John looks at you, then you shrug a little, “It’s okay.”

“She was my last thought,” he whispers like it’s a secret, then he looks at you again, “I’m sorry I just admitted that to you.”

You let out a small laugh, “It’s okay. It was like five years ago. I think it’s okay to admit you were thinking about another woman--your wife at the time. Trust me, John, I get it.”

“I just…” he looks out at the skyline again before he hugs Ronan closer, “I thought it was the end.”

“But it was just the beginning, really, wasn’t it?”

John laughs when you scrunch your face up in disgust over how cheesy that was, “Yeah. I laid on these steps and accepted that it was the end for me, but I had no idea that my life was going to change after.”

“Ah!” Ronan holds up a Cheerio in front of John and tries to feed it to him. She babbles and giggles when he eats it out of her hand.

“Oh, it was soggy.” he spits it into his hand and wipes on the cement.

You scoot closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder, “If you want to tell me about it sometime, I’m all ears.”

“Maybe later?” he asks, and you smile as you nod. “I think right now we need to do a little photoshoot with my gorgeous girls. I want to make some new memories here--some good memories.”

Ronan kicks her legs and babbles loudly, pointing at a hot air balloon in the sky, then she looks at John like she’s waiting for him to explain what it is. He chuckles softly and kisses her cheek, squishing her face a little when he hugs her tight. You prop your elbow on your knee and rest your head in your hand as you look at him, holding tight and loving on his baby girl.

When you got back to the hotel, John was still a little quiet, but he wasn’t at all like he was this morning. He didn’t tell you anything but he started to talk with the family more and even walked with your mom alone for a bit. No doubt he was gushing about Ronan or something from the smile on her face and how he kept glancing over at the two of you since she was sitting in your lap. He’s still processing what happened to him, you’re sure. It must be a lot to wrap your head around, and being here with your family on top of it all must be jarring.

You’re all back at the hotel now and sitting on the balcony, looking out at the Eiffel Tower and eating ice cream. Ronan has it all over her face and clothing, so she’ll definitely be needing a bath, which will be perfect since she’s going to be a little hyped up from the sugar. She loves to play in the bath and she loves when her daddy makes silly voices and makes her toys talk to her. He has a way of making everything magical, not only for her but for you as well.

“Hey…” John whispers in your ear from behind you, and you look over your shoulder, “Watcha doin?”

You start to laugh, “Just sitting here. What about you?”

“Just admiring you from afar,” he says, and you roll your eyes before tilting your head back to kiss him.

“You should admire me up close, Wick!” you tease, and he leans over the couch and wraps his arms around you, kissing your neck and shoulder.

John exhales and buries his face in the crook of your neck so his voice is muffled, “I have plans for us tomorrow, so don’t plan anything with anyone else.”

“Okay,” you turn your head to the side to look at him, “Are they sexy plans?”

“No, but we can have those tonight.”

You start to laugh, “Well, from the past few days we’ve been here, we have established that our bed does not make a sound even when you’re…ripping me in half, so…”

“Yeah, the bed is quiet,” he holds your gaze and cocks up his brow, “What’s not so quiet is you.”

“Well,” you put your hands up as you shrug, “That’s not my fault. You’re just too good, so I think you’re to blame for that, really.”

John pecks your cheek as he laughs, “I’ll take the blame.”

“Of course you will,” you cup his face and kiss him again, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much too,” he whispers, then he looks over when Ronan pulls herself up on your pants. “Hi, bug. Looks like you had some ice cream.”

Ronan is grinning wide and shaking her head fast from side to side, the sugar clearly hitting her. She screams loudly and reaches one hand up for you, so you pick her up and put her in your lap.

It’s kind of amazing how babies can go from super hyper to zonked out. Ronan leans against your chest and twitches a few times, then she’s out like a light, sleeping soundly with your shirt clutched in her grip. You pry her fingers open and stand up, then you head inside and lay her down on the couch to change her out of her clothes and into her pajamas that John has grabbed. John also brings a warm washcloth and wipes away the chocolate on her face.

Since there’s a few bedrooms upstairs, that’s where her and Finn are sleeping. You head upstairs with John right behind you, of course, and you put Ronan into the pack ‘n play. She moves around until she’s comfortable, then she smacks her lips and lets out a small sigh.

“Ah, to be a baby.” John says, and you look over at him, “They fall asleep so fast.”

“I distinctively remember you passing the fuck out last night. You didn’t wake up once.”

John laughs, “You wear me out.”

“Oh, do I?”

“Yes, you do.” he pulls you closer and kisses you tenderly as you back out of the room.

Your mom clears her throat and smiles when you both look at her, “Dad and I are heading to bed. We’ll get the babies in the morning.”

“Thanks, mom.” you walk over and hug her tight, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” she says, then she squeezes John’s hand, “You two have fun.”

You widen your eyes and stare at her as the blood drains from your body, “What? Why would we be having fun tonight?”

Your mom playfully squints her eyes, then she laughs, “I meant tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you blink a few times and feel your cheeks burning red with embarrassment, “Right, yeah, of course.”

“Goodnight,” she says, smiling at you before she slips into her room.

You look at John and smile when he starts to laugh, “Extra quiet tonight.”

John puts his hands up and backs away, “I can’t make any promises. You know me, I’m just ‘too good.’”

In true John Wick fashion, he has kept you completely in the dark about where you’re going today. All you knew was that it was take a little while to get there, that you were to wear something cute and breezy (Tess’ words) which meant you were to wear a summer dress and some sensible shoes to walk in. Thankfully you packed lots of shoes and dresses.

How John is able to keep his mouth shut about surprises always blows your mind. Whenever you have something planned for him, you almost blurt it out because you’re so excited. He’s just so good at keeping secrets.

The two of you boarded the train, found your seats, and sat down. The train took off a few minutes later but you have no idea where you’re headed. You don’t even know what direction you’re going but it’s nice to look out the window and see everything going by.

John reaches into your purse and pulls out the water bottle, then he offers it to you. You take a quick sip and hand it back to him before you cross your legs and links arms with him. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Soooo…” you look at him and smile.

John shakes his head, “Not telling.”

“You never tell me where we’re going!”

“That’s what most people call a surprise, peach. It’s a surprise.” he says, and you playfully roll your eyes at him. “You’re going to love it.”

You look at him and purse your lips, “Have I mentioned wanting to go there before?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know I’m going to love it?” you tease, and John’s face falls as he begins to worry. You widen your eyes and turn to him, “Oh my god, John! No, babe, I’m going to love it! I am!”

John sighs, “Well, now I’m worried.”

“No!” you put your hands over your face and sink into your seat, “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. John, babe, you know I’m gonna love it. You know me better than anyone.”

“I know,” he says, and you look at him, “But I really hope you do like it. I’m trying really hard to impress you.”

“What? Why? Well, wait…wow, that was a lot of w’s.” you say as you both laugh, “John, this whole trip has been amazing. You don’t need to impress me! If I’m honest, you impress me when you’re still here after we get into a fight or when I’m being…well, difficult. You don’t need to do extravagant things to impress me, Jonathan.”

John nods his head and takes a deep breath, “You’ve never been to Paris before, so we’re doing everything I can think of. This won’t be our only trip here, but I want this one to be memorable.”

“It’s my first trip here. It’s my first trip here with you. It’s going to be memorable no matter what.” you look out the window as the trains glides on the tracks, “I’ve never been on a train.”

“We’ve ridden the subway before.”

You scoff and wave him off, “That’s different. The subway doesn’t count.”

“Do you remember when we rode the subway that one time?”

You laugh as you nod and look at him, “That drunk guy in front of just vomited all over the floor and passed out.”

“Had to have four officers come in and carry him out.” he says, then he reaches for your hand, “Let’s hope we don’t have a Train to Busan incident.”

“Don’t say that!” you gasp, widening your eyes, “That’s just my luck. And it’s the perfect plot. Two Americans stuck in a foreign country when the zombie apocalypse starts.”

John cocks up his brow, “I’m not American.”

“You’re…whatever.” you laugh, then you look at him. “Would you protect me if zombies came?”

“Nah, I’d throw you down so I could get away.” he says, and you gasp loudly, playfully hitting his arm as he laughs. “Well, what kind of question was that? Also why does everything go to the zombie apocalypse with you?”

You tilt your head back against the seat and chuckle, “I don’t know.”

“It’s funny.” he says, and you look at him, “You’re the funniest person I know, you know that?”

“Even funnier than Jimmy?”

John chuckles softly, “Even funnier than Jimmy.”

“Wow,” you grin wide, “Wait ‘til he gets a load of that.”

“Oh, you can’t tell him.” he widens his eyes, shaking his head, “It’ll be bad for you, not for me. Actually I take that back. It’ll be bad for all of us. The jokes won’t stop.”

You link your arm with his again, “His jokes aren’t too bad.”

“Nah,” he presses his cheek to the top of your head, “But you’re still funnier.”

You scoff, “Duh.”

After getting off the train, it was a just a short walk to get to our final destination. It was a nice walk though. The weather is perfect here today. It’s 80 and sunny, but there’s a pretty decent breeze to keep us cool. Y/N has her hair down and is wearing a dress that blows in the breeze, and I have to say: I am married to the most beautiful woman ever.

She has no clue where we are as of right now, and I’m honestly pretty proud of myself for being able to pull this whole thing off. She’s become quite sneaky so I’m surprised she hasn’t found out where we’re going. I know she eavesdrops sometimes when I talk with her mom even though she’ll deny it. I can’t lie, I do the same thing too.

“Oooh,” Y/N coos when she sees the gardens in front of us overflowing with white and pink flowers, “This is so pretty. Is this someone’s house?”

“It was…” I nod, and she perks up and looks at me. I start to laugh, “It wasn’t mine. I’ve never lived here.”

Y/N shrugs, “Well, I dunno. I feel like you’ve been around the world quite a few times. I don’t know where you’ve lived.”

“New York, mostly.” I nod, and she leans down to smell a peony. “New York is my home. Has been for a long time.”

“You’ve made it my home too.” she says, reaching for my hand, “I’d never feel at home there if it weren’t for you.”

I let out a small laugh, “You would have made it your home eventually.”

“Nope.” she shakes her head, turning her nose up and smiling, “It was all because of you.”

“Well, thank you. I’ll take the compliment.” I pull her closer to me to kiss her, then I open the gate and gesture for her to go ahead. She furrows her brow and looks at the house before looking at me. I chuckle, nodding my head, “This is your surprise.”

She stares at me for a moment before the color drains from her face, “You bought a house?”

I start to laugh, “No. I would definitely talk about that with you first.”

“Oh, thank god.” She puts her hand over her heart and closes her eyes, “I don’t want more houses.”

“I don’t either,” I look up at the house covered in vines and flowers, “This is Monet’s Garden.”

Y/N looks at the house and stands on her tiptoes to get a better look around, then she looks at me, “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” I laugh, nodding and smiling, “Should we go explore? We got the place to ourselves for a bit.”

A loud squeal comes out of her mouth as she rushes over to hug me, then she grabs my hand and yanks me along with her, rushing through the beds of purple tulips and roses.

I had to get in contact with someone to set this whole thing up, but it went well. After we explored the gardens for a bit and took tons of pictures--Thank you, Tess, for letting me borrow your camera--we sat down on a blanket and had lunch. We just talked about the trip so far and how we dread going home now that our family is here. If they weren’t, surely we’d be beyond excited to head home.

“I just still can’t believe that you love me.”

She looks at me like it’s the most outrageous thing I’ve ever said, which is probably is since I haven’t said much for a few minutes now and it was completely out of no where.

Y/N shakes her head and takes my hand, “John, babe, you’re my best friend. Loving you is so easy.”

“I’ve just…I’ve done some shit, Y/N.” I shake my head as I look down, then I look at her, her gaze still fixed on me and still so full of love.

“What if…” she turns to face me, reaching for both my hands, “It was me instead? What if it was me who had this…unbelievable life? What if it was me who had done all of those things that you’ve done? What if it were me who had been through hell and back? Would you still love me?”

I furrow my brow, “Yeah, but--”

“No,” she presses her finger to my lips, “You would love me. Simple as that. No buts. Just like I love you, no buts.”

I smile when she starts to laugh, “No butts?”

“No buts.” she rolls her eyes playfully and laughs, “No if, ands, or buts about it. I love you. There is no question or hesitation, John. The way that you love me is the way that I love you. I know that you feel like you’re not deserving of my love, but trust me, you’re the only one deserving of it. And if it wasn’t me here--I hate to think about it--but if it wasn’t me and it was someone else, you would deserve their love too. But…there’s never going to be someone else because I’ll beat the shit out of them for trying to take my man!”

I laugh as I bring her face to mine so I can kiss her, “I would beat the shit out of someone for trying to take you too.”

“Oh, good.” she smiles at me before kissing me, “Very protective over you.”

“You have no idea how protective I am of you.” I whisper, looking into her eyes, “I’d burn the world down for you.”

She smiles softly, “I know you would, but I’d never ask that of you. I just want you to have a nice life, and I really hope I’m doing my best at giving you that.”

“You absolutely are. Don’t ever question that. I have the best life I could have ever imagined,” I say, and she shrugs bashfully when I look at her, “And that’s because of you. When I got out, I never thought that my life would be this great. I thought I’d just go home and live in peace as a free man. I thought I’d just have Bleu. I didn’t even think I’d have Jimmy as my friend when I got out. I didn’t have anyone.”

Y/N smiles, “Now look at you!”

“Yeah!” I laugh, nodding my head before I look down. I reach out to take a bite of a sandwich, then I look up at her as she looks around the garden. She plays with her food for a moment before she sets it down. “What’s going on in that head of yours, peach?”

“Just thinking,” she says in the sweetest voice, then she shrugs, “You’ve never told me much about Paris.”

I set my sandwich down and sigh as I look at her, “Because it’s probably the hardest thing I’ll ever have to tell you.”

Y/N scoots closer to me and holds my hand as she looks at me with soft eyes and a soft smile, “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Well…” I wipe my mouth and hands off on a napkin before looking at her, “I think I’m ready.”

“Wait!” she scoots down and rolls over to lay on her stomach, then she props her head up on her hands and smiles at me, “I’m ready!”

“And then Winston and The King--”

“Wait, what’s his name?” you ask, and John shrugs one shoulder. Though it’s certainly not the place nor time, you start to laugh, “You don’t know his name?”

John shakes his head, “No.”

“You just call him The King?”

“Yeah, everyone does.”

You start to laugh again, “His name is probably something really random, like Wilbur or Dennis.”

John chuckles a little, “Or Kenneth.”

“Yeah!” you laugh harder before you stop and smile at John, “Keep going, babe.”

“Anyway, he…found me, took me back to a safe place, and I got stitched up, probably slept for days on end. Bleu was next to me the whole time, never left my side.”

You look into his eyes when he finally meets your gaze, “You never told me any of this until now. Why?”

“It’s really fucking hard, Y/N. I was…on the brink of not coming back and I knew…I knew the moment I spoke those words that I just did, this is the reaction I would get,” he gestures to you as you start to cry, “The last thing I ever want is to make you upset. Hearing about your husband’s near death experience isn’t fun and it’s certainly not a fun topic of conversation.”

You wipe the tears off your face, “No, but it allows me to know you even more. Have you thinking about it the whole time we’ve been here?”

John shrugs, “Not really at first, to be honest. I didn’t really start to think about it until we passed a few places that reminded me. You have a good way of taking up most of the thoughts in my brain.”

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Wick.” you smile, and he leans over to kiss your cheek.

“I guess being here again just conjured up those memories and I wanted to talk about it.” he looks at you and nods, “I wanted to talk to you about it all.”

“I taught you well,” you throw him a wink, which elicits a laugh from him.

Hearing about John’s past is always hard. No one wants to hear about someone they love being hunted down and hurt…literally repeatedly. But John is strong. He’s a fighter. He gets back up. He gets knocked down 200 times, he’ll get up 201 times. He will always fight, you know that. You’re so beyond proud of him and who he is, who he was, and who he is becoming. He’s the best man you’ve ever met; every version of him is the best.

Even though you know what a fighter he is, it’s still hard to imagine the things he told you today. Being thrown over railings and falling several feet to the hard ground, hanged, stabbed, shot at, hit by cars. It’s genuinely a miracle that he’s even still alive. But again, John isn’t one to give up.

“I can’t believe you have all of your teeth.” you say, and John furrows his brow before he laughs loudly.

“What?”

You look at him and laugh, “I don’t know. I’m just thinking. With the amount of shit you’ve been through, you’d think you’d have missing teeth or something.”

“Of course I have my teeth!” he chuckles, shaking his head, then he points to his tooth, “But this one is fake.”

You gasp loudly and put your hands over your mouth, “What? Jonathan! We’ve been together this whole time and I never knew your tooth was fake!”

John clearly finds this assuming since he’s laughing, “What? Did you want me to lead with that when we met? Hi, I think you’re beautiful and would love to get to know you. By the way, my tooth is fake.”

You clean closer and look at him, “It doesn’t look fake.”

“That’s the point.” he lets out a small and leans over to kiss your cheek.

“You are so gorgeous,” you whisper to him, and he smiles as he pulls you closer and lays you down on the blanket, “Oh, you’re gonna make out with me in Monet’s Garden?”

John chuckles softly against your lips, “First time for everything.”

Two strong and warm arms wrap around your waist, and you immediately melt back against John’s chest as a smile spreads on your face. He presses a few kisses to your shoulder, then he kisses your cheek and looks out at the Parisian skyline for one last time.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m gonna miss this place,” you whisper softly, then you shrug, “But I am excited to get home. I miss Bleu. I miss the shop. I miss our bed.”

John nods, “Bleu is going to be so excited to see us.”

“I hate being away from him, but I know he’s being taken care of.”

Bleu went with Grace and Tony before you left. Grace was beyond thrilled to have him while you were gone. She’s going to be so sad when you’re home and she has to hand him back over though.

“I’m excited to get back to life though.” you inhale deeply and wrap John’s arms around you tighter, “As much as I love going on trips and being in different countries, I have to admit that I really do love our life back in New York and I miss it. I miss the simplicity of it. The…normality and routine.”

“Yeah, I understand that.” he moves your hair off your shoulder and smiles when you look at him, “Plus Ro will be needing her monthly check-up soon.”

You laugh, scrunching your face up a little, “Isn’t it so lame that I’m looking forward to all of that? I look forward to going home and doing chores and running errands. How dumb is that?”

“It’s not dumb,” he shakes his head and turns you around so your back is against the railing and you’re facing him. “It means you really like our life, and I do too. I can’t wait to get home and do all of that stuff.”

“I really love doing life with you, John.” you tear up as he smiles. “I think that’s why I’m so excited to get home; I get to do all that mundane shit with you.”

John touches your chin before leaning down to kiss you, “I really love doing life with you too.”

You wrap your arms around John’s neck and deepen the kiss, holding tight to him and never letting go.

tagslist: @sakurachan-9 @ruby-octo @angie-20000 @beingnerdyissupercool @star017 @perrysglasses @volcasaurus

#john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick imagine #fic: hold my hand #i'm sad that they're leaving paris lmao #paris was orginially just one chapter but after seeing jw4 i knew i wanted him to share some of the stuff that happened to him #obviously i left some things out and embellished others but ya know ya gotta do what u gotta do #anyway i hope you all enjoy! i love you sooooo much byeeeeee

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nugge-is-my-duckie · 6 months

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This is the stupidest shit but over my (mostly) free week inbetween studying for my final exam I've been replaying Marvels Spider-Man in anticipation of finally getting to play Spider-Man 2 once I'm finished with my exams (nearly there!!!) I've replayed this game an obsene amount of times since its one of my favourites, and for probably like the last 5 playthroughs I've tried to get through the entire campaign without dying once.

This is something not entirely difficult to do. But even with the number of times I've tried I was never able to do it. And every time I died it was the DUMBEST reasons ever it was so ridiculous. I think the last time I failed was because I totally zoned out and died because a like regular thug dude punched me... a REGULAR PUNCH. Its so stupid that I care so much but oh my god THATS what broke my streak????

Anyways of course this time I tried my go at it again. I was really hoping I could do it this time since its my last playthrough before I play the next game. And tonight I got to the end and I'm about halfway through the final boss fight when I realise I havent died yet and I had to pause and take a breather so I wouldnt get too excited and then fucking die in the last fight.

BUT I DID IT!!! FINALLY!!!

YAY!!! I know its stupid to get so excited over it but still!!!!

Anyways really really looking forward to playing the next game!! I've heard its great and its been a bit of a nightmare trying to avoid spoilers online but from the tiny bits and pieces I've seen it looks INSANE!! ...I wonder how long I can last before dying?? (I wont even make it 5 minutes in)

#spiderman ps4 #spider man #insomniac spider man #istg if someone I love dies in this game I'm gonna do some unspeakable shit #like cry and be generally sad about it #i'm very excited for all the fic ideas that are gonna spawn in my head after I finish #which wont leave my brain for months #will I write them tho?#probably not.#raisins and more raisins :)

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teyamsatan · 1 year

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writing x human!reader kills me cause i'll write whole paragraphs and then be like OH SHIT they just made out outside and she's not wearing a mask! and then have to go back and add onto it and change it and make it work somehow

#avatar!reader is where it's at for sure #it's my shit #also it's 12am and i'm leaving for the airport in 6 hours and i haven't packed #and my flight is 14 hours and i'm already stressing out about it #so sad to leave korea :(#ೃ⁀➷ andra rambles #avatar fic #neteyam fic #neteyam x human!reader

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tunedtostatic · 7 months

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[Additional Image Description: On a grey background, there are five small black line art illustrations lined up across the center. The first is a sword with a hooked blade pointing upwards, the second is a hand with magic curling up out of it, the center is a castle with wavy lines extending from it into a dark sky, the third is a beaker with steam curling up from it, and the last is a shortsword pointing downwards. The sword has a few dark red shading lines. In the lower right corner of the fanmix cover is the title, "heart of my own," in dark red medieval calligraphy font. End Additional Image Description.]

HEART OF MY OWN - A FANMIX FOR CASSANDRA DE ROLO IN THE TIME OF THE BRIARWOODS

Overgrown - machineheart // Edge of the World - Within Temptation // Ashes and Rust - Wynnie Stone // Take Me Home - The Paper Kites, Nadia Reid // Nobody (Live) - The Crane Wives // The Tangled Tree - Josienne Clarke and Ben Walker // Heart Of My Own - Basia Bulat // Don't She Run - I Draw Slow // Murder City - Abigail Lapell // Until the Fire - Ladytron // Control - Halsey // Lament - Mount Moriah // Catch the Light - Haroula Rose

Fanmix on YouTube

Fanmix on Spotify

#cassandra de rolo #cr1 #music #fanmix #id in alt text #described #remember how i was like i spent $8 or whatever it was on paint from cvs because i wanted to make the cass fanmix a painted cover?#l + ratio + i did not have time + my camera isn't working so i can't even do a minimalist painted version #so here's literal clipart (not actually clipart its free use images from pixabay but lets be real. stylistically. its clipart)#you can see what my Vision would have been (i wanted to paint the above in medieval manuscript illustration style on a black #background where instead of the (very nice) castle in the center it would have been the sun tree/tree from the de rolo crest #with curling branches and roots filling the whole paper above and below as well #honestly i think artistic vision clip art edition turned out good! captured the vibe. even found a sword that looks like craven edge.#this is another thing i never made a follow-up post about and i'm going to do that rn (pandemic talk incoming)#i'm stepping away from the fandom by the live show because i can't watch them do a live show in a pandemic #like friends are staying in the fandom and i don't judge/care!! i don't *want* to leave i just can't watch or do art and fic for a #work of fiction after it gets real life human beings killed #thats my uncrossable line #its an incredibly sad and fucked up situation #and this week i'm trying to finish up some fanworks (this and another mix and two fics) that i had done or over half done pre-announcement #so i can get that out of the way and focus on. i guess irl is not the word but keeping in touch with fandom bros and practical stuff for #what i think will be a shitty last couple of weeks before the live show itself

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illiana-mystery · 2 years

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😢😭😢😭

#i just want him to be okay #i want him to recover #like his story is so sad #that's why i'm writing the fic i'm writing #he survives btw #but i'll leave it at that #don't want to spoil it #for those who don't know #that aside #his eyes are so beautiful #in that last gif #such beautiful brown eyes #mike hubble #boon season 6 #my sweet alfredo #my heart #❤️❤️❤️❤️#alfred molina

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throttlegainwell · 4 months

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The number of comments that I've gotten along the lines of "I already loathed Lonnie, but you managed to make me hate him even more" sort of intrigues me.

Thinking about that because Blood, Wine, & Roses, a fic ostensibly about Jonathan's relationship with masculinity, is probably a good 50-75% child abuse and Lonnie's general shittiness, give or take, with a smattering of Lonnie being slightly less shitty in a way that, in context, is actually kind of worse.

#writing tag #blood wine & roses wip #child abuse mention tw #i had a very rough night tbh so i'm taking a break from my self-imposed writing hiatus a few days early to poke at some wips #anyway this fic is very sad and experimental but what can i say jonathan's childhood sucked #lonnie's a bully who uses masculinity as a cudgel and whether it's genuine in purpose or just an excuse #that kind of thing leaves an impression

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redwayfarers · 6 months

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cold nights in ishgard

Fandom: FFXIV Ship: Nika/Artoirel, Nika/Minfilia Characters: Nika Perseis (WoL), Artoirel de Fortemps, Emmanellain de Fortemps, Minfilia Warde (mentioned), Haurchefant Greystone (mentioned) Rating: Gen Spoilers: Heavensward spoilers Words: 1664 Read on ao3

Ishgard is oddly pretty at night. Colder, sure, but fucking Coerthas is always cold, day and night, and layers are not an issue whatsoever when you’re an honored guest at a noble family’s mansion. It also makes streets less crowded, as much as a city of Ishgard’s size can be. Nika avoided walking outside alone to places beyond the three he’d instantly memorized the path to when he first came to the city and when he had few means to ask around for directions.

Thankfully, he now has a guide. A handsome one at that, but he refuses to do more than just acknowledge that sentiment. In the days following the grand melee, he and Artoirel have taken on a rather pleasant ritual of evening walks. Nika’s been Ishgard’s champion for a lot more than he’d intended now and his duel with Raubahn is on the lips of all of Eorzea. He also happens to have a very recognizable face thanks to that faded, large scar that Thancred once joked now made them equal in handsomeness.

Years ago, he might’ve taken a slight offense to that. Now, Nika has so little energy to dwell on minor edges of a friendship he himself massacred beyond recognition. Fuck that, he has so little energy to do anything beyond self-pitying and wanting to crawl out of his skin to escape the pressure in his chest.

But Artoirel helps. The tapping of his shoes against the stone promenade brings Nika back to reality every time. It makes him focus on the rhythm of his own footsteps - click, click, clack, clack, an off-beat song of two bodies who lost things, lost people. Haurchefant had been a brother to both of them. Now his ghost lingers over the whole Fortemps household and the souls who lived there.

Nika looks up. Wind’s playing with Artoirel’s hair, tossing it this way and that. It matches the night sky, blue where Nika’s own is black, a subtle difference. When the fuck did he acquire that particular nugget of information? The whole effect Artoirel has on him blurs the minutiae of it. They have matching earrings tonight. The thought makes him weirdly happy. Suddenly, he needs to feel the weight of Artoirel’s clothed palm on his own.

Same way he yearned to feel Minfilia’s.

Except he’ll never feel Minfilia’s hand in his again.

Artoirel’s hand is as rough as hers; there’s no gentle skin where war is your generational legacy, or when you work at mines. It feels like a suitable replacement at times, until he remembers that Minfilia could have comfortably placed her head on Nika’s chest, and with Artoirel, the roles are reversed. What a looming presence, his brother de Fortemps.

Brother’s never felt like a shittier word.

But hey, he at least has equal entertainment watching him fight with his hair. “Told you to tie it back,” Nika says in a strained, casual voice, because he can’t speak like a normal person these days.

“An advice I had staunchly decided to ignore,” Artoirel replies, and then, in a lighter, almost intimate tone, “maybe to my own detriment.”

“At least I’m enjoying the losing battle,” Nika shrugs and looks at his offensively expensive walking boots. “You’re fun to watch, count de Fortemps.”

“Do not call me that,” Artoirel sighs. “I am still growing accustomed to it.”

“If I say it enough, it’ll get to your head faster.”

“You’re impossible.” There’s a smile in Artoirel’s voice, so suited to ordering men on the field, deep and even and perfectly trained to be so, but then there are smiles in it that break it. Nika wishes to curl against his side like an indulgent cat. But they are in public, and they are brothers.

Nevertheless, Nika offers what he can. It’s small, it’s brittle, but he feels brittle anyway and he’s nothing if not honest to a fault. Haurchefant was too. Except he sparked hope and happiness, whereas Nika’s honesty is more like a knife. “I am glad to be of service.”

“That you are,” Artoirel says. He then turns all serious again. “How are you doing these days?”

“Me?”

“Yes. These recent events have been.. Tumultuous for all of us. Most of all for you.”

Nika frowns. “Losing people feels like absolute shit, Artoirel.”

“That is not an answer to my question.” Artoirel stops and crosses his arms. He looks at Nika with such worry in his eyes that it makes him squirm where he stands. “You don’t have to answer me now. I merely wanted to assure you that you can rely on your friends in your time of need.”

“Assurance noted, now don’t–” Words die on his tongue when he feels long fingers on the crease between neck and shoulder, ruffling the white lace cravat. Part of him wants it gone, and for those fingers to tease the skin beneath. But another, the one that suddenly burns in shame and pain and grief, kicks it away like a stray puppy.

“Do not brush it off,” Artoirel repeats. The lull of his voice and the weight of his touch steadies Nika. He had no fucking idea he needed steadying at all. “It is genuine. Fury, I am genuine. I don’t find pleasure in seeing you shoulder this burden alone.” His eyes find Nika’s. The calmness of his words does little to stop the whirlwind in his eyes, and it’s a pain Nika knows. It’s a pain they share.

It’s a pain they will both have to live with for the rest of their lives. The dead don’t come to life.

Nika raises a hand and holds Artoirel’s wrist. The fabric beneath his fingers feels exquisite. “The woman I loved is gone, Artoirel,” he says gravely. “My friend - your brother - is gone, trying to save me. We almost lost Aymeric, too. Nothing will make the pain go away.” He blinks to stave off tears. “Have I ever told you about my father? He died when I was a kid. I don’t remember him well, I was that young. I feel his absence even today. My mother and I have been feeling his absence for the last twenty years. It will never go away. The sooner I get used to it, the better.”

Artoirel looks around. Then, moments later, he crushes Nika against his chest. Nika lets out a small oh, looking up at his face. His eyes are wild, locking on Nika’s like his life depends on it. He imagines Artoirel’s heart to beat just as wildly as his is, or maybe it’s not imagination, not with the way his lips part slightly and his gaze falls lower.

And gods help him, he’s looking at Artoirel’s lips too. They’re small and tight and he’d kill just to be able to chew on that lower lip–

He isn’t Minfilia.

Nika looks away, refusing to let go of Artoirel’s wrist. The moment falls as treasonously as it began and he’s painfully aware of where he is, what he’s doing. Artoirel’s touch burns, but it mixes with shame so well that he can’t will himself to part. Not truly. He holds his wrist like a lifeline, like it will chase the shame away.

It won’t. Nothing ever will. Nika closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Nika, I apologize, I– Nika? Why are you crying?”

Nika’s face feels like hellfire. His eyes prickle, and he tries to snarl at the sensation, but finds he doesn’t quite have the strength to. He opens his mouth to speak, but his voice struggles to swim to the surface. When it does come, however, it sounds broken beyond repair. “She loved Eorzea more than me,” he says, tight and small. It’s a tip of the dagger under the skin. It’s embarrassing, but he can’t make it work any other way, which only makes him cry harder. “She loved Eorzea enough to sacrifice my devotion to her to save it. I’m betraying her memory, Artoirel, there was no fucking chance of anything, yet this feels so dirty–”

Artoirel’s face crumbles, too. “I’ve made you uncomfortable.” He lets go of him, but Nika wraps his arms around his chest and presses his face against the ends of his cravat, as if trying to melt into his skin. “I assure you, I haven’t any–”

“No, no, you remind me of her, and I want, I want–” Nika sniffles. His words come out rushed, beaten out of him by the pain in his chest. “I want so much, but Minfilia–” He hiccups on the name, pressing his fingers into Artoirel’s coat, and he cries, and cries, and cries, and Artoirel wraps his arms around him and just holds. At some point, he says something to a random passerby, but Nika doesn’t care.

He’s pathetic enough anyway.

They stay like that for a while on a cold Ishgardian night. Artoirel leads him home later and guides him to his bedroom. “Sleep now,” he says, and Nika feels too drained to do more than nod and obediently lay down. Sleep finds him rather quickly, and moments before Nika drifts off, he sees Artoirel linger by the door.

Whatever dreams find him tonight, maybe he’ll be the star in them. Or more likely, Minfilia.

Maybe it’s all one and the same.

Nika falls asleep.

(It takes no more than a day for rumours of the new Count de Fortemps and the savior of Ishgard hugging on the street to reach the ears of Emmanellain de Fortemps. For the sake of his brother, and Nika too, he fights them when he can. He tells Artoirel as much, and he rewards Emmanellain’s efforts with a small smile and words of gratitude. Nika just squints and refuses to engage in conversation.

But Emmanellain knows. He knows what’s afoot. And apparently, Artoirel and Nika know too. It may take them some time to accept it, however. That is alright. Watching the love unfold is very, very entertaining in the meantime.)

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