#that i was there when she bought the rings

[sunsburns]

good luck, babe!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader x patrick zweig x art donaldson

summary: patrick zwieg invites tashi duncan and art donaldson to join him at your engagement party. you think they came to celebrate you and your new chapter and put the past behind you, rebuilding lost friendships, but tashi hopes to stop you from marrying a man you never wanted.

—or: the trio crashes your engagement party

word count: 10k+ (i have a serious problem)

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, post-challengers movie, fluff & comfort, angst, tashi’s pov but lowkey get's mixed up around the end, foursome, oral (fem receiving), oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sed (wrap it before yall tap it), homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, three-way make out, four-way make out, dom!tashi, patrick being nasty, art being a loser, no use of y/n, situationship that lasts 13 years.

author’s note: this fic is based on this request with inspo from the greatest song on earth: good luck, babe! it was supposed to be a quick smut blurb but at this point, you all know i can’t write smut without some kind of angsty plot. everyone is super messy and there is some of the dirtiest smut i’ve written so far (it’s only going to get worse from here). this one is a roller coaster.

It didn't make sense to any of them, how you could've possibly ended up with him. 

Tashi remembered him from Stanford vividly. He came from a white-collared family, with daddy's money that bought him everything he could've ever asked for, yet he still wanted more. He played golf and polo and even dabbled with tennis but never had enough guts or skill to take it seriously. But his dad funded most of the programs and events at the school, so everyone had known him, his charm, his family, and his inability to stick to one thing even outside of sports. He clung onto a new girl every other week, a new girl wrapped around his finger only to be ultimately tossed aside like the rest of them.

"What a dick," Tashi remembered you saying once, stabbing your fork into your salad while glaring daggers at him from across the cafeteria as he bragged loudly to his fan club about how he beat you in a game of tennis. 

Which he didn't. 

You let him win. 

His parents had been paying you to coach him, paid you extra every time you let him win a set or two against you, even if it was off the record. God knows you needed the money.

"I think I'm gonna quit." You said, turning back to glance at Tashi.

"About damn time," she snickered, shaking her head. "I told you you're wasting your time with him when you could be doing something better. Like training with me."

You had rolled your eyes and poked her arm with your fork, "If I'm still trailing after him this time next week, shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery."

Almost thirteen years later, you're walking around with his ring on your finger at your engagement party. A party where your fiancé announced your upcoming retirement after a tennis career run that Tashi would’ve killed for: a six-time US Open winner; two-time gold medalist at the Olympics; and brand deals that would ensure you and the next four generations of your family lived happily under your trust fund.

Clearly, you weren't marrying him for his money.

It made Tashi anxious, because, in some way, she could see that the marriage you will have with your fiancé is far too similar to how Tashi's would have been if she and Patrick stayed together. 

Okay, maybe that was a reach.

Or maybe it's how it would've been if neither of you had gone up to Art and Patrick's hotel room that night. Or maybe it would've been Tashi's ring on your finger instead.

She couldn't shake the bitter taste in her mouth as she watched you laugh with him, your eyes lighting up in the way they always did when you were truly happy. It used to be her who made you smile like that. She remembered the late-night practices, the shared victories, and the quiet moments shared in the comfort of her dorm room. She remembered the promises you both made and dreams of dominating the tennis world together.

But she shouldn't dwell on the past, she shouldn't think about what-ifs. At least that's what Art tells her with a hand on her shoulder. Tashi glances at his hand, noting the wedding band that rests on his finger. The squeeze he gives is meant to be reassuring, but instead, it feels suffocating.

"I'll never know how he bagged her," Patrick tuts from her other side, a drink already in his hand. He holds it close to his mouth, biting the rim of the glass before taking a swig, his eyes never leaving you. His gaze is shameless, tracing the way your dress hugs your curves, how your hair shines under the chandelier lights, and the way your lips move as you speak.

"Lucky, lucky man..." Patrick shakes his head, a bitter edge to his voice.

A waiter passes by, offering hors d'oeuvres, and Patrick takes enough for the three of them for himself, setting his empty glass on the platter. As he stuffs an appetizer in his mouth, he begins to walk away, his eyes fixed on you.

"Where do you think you're going?" Art asks, his hand slipping from Tashi's shoulder.

Patrick spins around, mouth full, and shrugs. "To congratulate the future bride."

Art and Tashi stand there, watching, almost dumbfounded when they see Patrick sneak up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you into the air. You shriek, champagne spilling from your glass, but once you see who it is, a wide smile breaks across your face.

"Patrick!" Tashi can hear you from across the hall. Patrick lifts you again, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he spins you around, your laughter ringing out—a sweet melody that draws the attention of everyone nearby. "You made it!"

Tashi feels a pang of surprise. 

You and Patrick had been in closer contact than she imagined. It stings, a reminder of the distance that had grown between you after her injury, much like the distance that had grown between Art and Patrick. She never knew you had turned to Patrick for comfort. Though it made sense—Patrick was the one you invited, not her, not Art. Patrick was the one who had to ask if he could bring two guests instead of the traditional plus-one. 

But surely, you must have known that if you invited Patrick, Tashi and Art would come too, right? 

Right? 

The question churns a pit of dread in her stomach as Art starts to lead her closer to you out of courtesy.

Patrick's arms are wrapped tightly around your torso, his hand resting too low to be innocent, but you seem happy nonetheless. Happier in Patrick's arms than in the arms of your future husband. You embrace him close, the ring on your finger glimmering under the chandelier lights as you hold onto the back of his neck, your laughter finally subsiding as the spinning stops.

As Tashi and Art approach, the reality of the situation hits her harder. She's watching from the outside, a spectator to your happiness, feeling the sting of what could have been. She forces a smile; your engagement to the worst person in the world can't possibly be the thing that makes her break. Not after everything she's built since she started coaching.

Art tries to catch your eye, offering a polite smile once you let go of Patrick. "Hey."

"Hi," you say breathlessly, a bright smile across your face while Patrick swings his arm over your shoulder. You seem happy, almost relieved that Tashi and Art were here as if you doubted their attendance. "Wow, it's been so long. You guys look great."

"Thanks," Tashi finally says, the words weighing on her tongue like lead.

"You look beautiful," Art tells you, and it's rushed as if he's been trying to keep it to himself but couldn't help it once he was close enough to you.

Before you can get a word out, another arm wraps around your waist, discreetly pushing Patrick away from you to slide into your side. Patrick lets out an annoyed groan, stepping aside as your fiancé squeezes you tightly and says, "She does, doesn't she? Hey, killer."

You turn to him, about to say something, maybe greet him back, maybe introduce him to everyone. But he doesn't let you, he's leaning closer until his lips lock with yours. It takes you by surprise—you flinch at first before finally letting him kiss you properly, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible.

Art lets out a low, awkward sigh while watching it happen before him, and Patrick rolls his eyes, stepping back in search of a waiter for another drink.

He holds onto you like you're a prize he's won. Almost as if he's been competing with everyone in the world to finally hold you and show you off. As if that's all you had to offer.

You blink, clearly embarrassed, as you clear your throat to disperse the awkward tension in the air. "These are some, uh," you stumble over your words before nodding towards Art, Tashi, and Patrick, "some old friends from college. I'm sure you remember—"

He's interrupting you again, reaching out with the hand that's not on you to shake Tashi's hand. He holds it tightly, his thumb pressing against her wedding ring. "Tashi Duncan, how could I ever forget? Still beautiful as ever."

She has to force herself to smile, for your sake. "Good to see you too—"

"You know," your fiancé starts, cutting her off, "I still remember the time you told me to suck a bag of dicks 'cause I took up your court time. Best day of my life."

"Yeah," Patrick laughs. He's found another glass of champagne to sip on, and it's by his lips when he says, "who doesn't love getting cussed out by Tashi."

You wince. "Patrick—"

"No, no. He's right. It's one out of a million. I took it as a compliement," your fiancé says, glancing at Tashi again, his eyes darting up and down, lingering on her wedding ring once more before she finally pulls her hand out of his grasp. He spots the arm Tashi has been clinging to. "Art Donaldson, I'm a big fan."

Art stiffens as if taken by surprise. "Really?"

Your fiancé is nodding, and when Art glances your way for a split second, he tugs you closer. "You're incredible. Watching you play, it's like, woah! He's killin' it out there. Too bad you've retired though, would've loved to see you play longer."

There's a faint redness to Art's face when he nods. "Oh, thank you."

"I've always wondered if I'd turn out the way you did if I stuck to tennis." Then he laughs, nudging your side. "If only this one put me to work like Tashi did to you, maybe we would've competed in the US Open a few times."

You snort and shake your head, the idea of watching the two of them even standing on the court together amusing you. "You couldn't beat Art if you tried."

Your fiancé shrugs. "Maybe Patrick."

"Stop kidding yourself. You can't even beat your nephew and he's twelve."

He hums, turning so that he'll face you. He holds your waist with both hands, caressing you gently. "You sure know your way into a man's heart, baby," he says lowly before kissing you again. It's rough and messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You shriek and press your hands against his chest. He doesn't let go immediately, peeking a glance towards the trio while kissing you.

Tashi feels a knot of disgust tightening in her stomach. The audacity of him to touch you like that in front of them, as if he’s marking his territory, sets her blood boiling just a little bit. God, did no one teach this guy any kind of etiquette?

She catches Art's expression out of the corner of her eye—his jaw is clenched as he turns to look away. Patrick's lips curl in a sneer, the glass in his hand trembling slightly. He fights the urge to throw it.

Your fiancé reaches down and gropes your ass over your silky white dress before finally separating from you.

You stand there, looking flushed and embarrassed, letting him whisper something in your ear before he walks off, joining a group of men who whistle and catcall at him as he nears them. Each jeer and hoot feels like a slap to the face.

"Uh, sorry," you apologize, unable to meet their eyes as you blindly wipe at your chin to fix your lipstick. "That was... I don't know what's gotten into him. He's not usually like this. He's, uh... he's great."

Patrick scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, real great."

Tashi can’t help but frown, her heart aching as she watches you fumble. "You can't possibly want to marry him," she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat. She can't bear to hear the answer, especially if it's the one she fears.

Art steps forward, his face a careful mask of neutrality. "If you’re happy," he says, but there's an edge to his tone, a challenge. The unspoken words hang heavily in the air: "Are you?"

You nod quickly, too quickly, as if trying to convince yourself as much as them. "Sure, sure. I mean, what’s not to be happy about? His family loves me. I'm retiring this year, and gonna spend more time with my family. Hopefully more time with some old friends?"

"Old friends?" Tashi repeats, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. The casual way you say it, as if years of distance and silence can be bridged with a few meetings, stings more than she cares to admit.

"Yeah, before I get busy with the baby."

"Baby?" Patrick's voice is sharp, almost disbelieving. "You’re pregnant?"

"What? No!" You quickly sputter, shaking your head. Then you pause, a thought crossing your mind and you lighten up a little bit, a hopeful smile gracing your face, "But I do want kids one day. I want three."

"Does he want kids?"

"We've talked about it, but he shuts it down all the time."

"You poor thing." Patrick puffs out, pinching your arm before reaching for your hand and leading you toward the bar. "Let's bring this conversation outside, ladies. I need a smoke. And you all need a drink stronger than his champagne."

The idea of fresh air and a strong drink is appealing. After grabbing a bottle of finely aged wine, the four of you make your way to the garden outside the grand hall. The shift from the stuffy indoor atmosphere to the cool night air is a relief. 

The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the meticulously maintained garden, illuminating the path with a soft, ethereal light. You glow in your pretty white dress, the fabric shimmering as you take a seat on a patch of grass near the rose bushes. The scent of roses mingles with the crisp night air, creating a tranquil yet poignant backdrop. You glance up at the three of them who stand there, watching you.

Tashi raises a brow as you take a long swig of the wine. She didn't remember you to be much of a drinker. 

"It's not that big of a deal," you say, passing her the bottle when she finally sits next to you. 

It's as if her movement had woken the two guys and then Art takes a seat on your other side while Patrick lies down on the grass a few feet away to light a cigarette. 

You pout, "If he doesn't want kids, then we won't have kids."

"But you want kids," Tashi reminds you, but it's more of a question as if she's wondering if that's truly what you want. Don't get her wrong, Tashi loves being a mother, she would kill anyone for Lily, but you wanting kids barely before confirming your retirement threw her off a little bit.

"Of course I do." You hiccup, reaching for the bottle again. "I'm not getting any younger. It's just... he'll come around."

"And if he doesn't?" Art asks, his voice gentle but probing.

"Can we not talk about that right now? I just want to get shitfaced and party."

"Now we're talkin'!" Patrick interjects, his grin wide as he takes a drag from his cigarette. The embers glow briefly in the dark.

"Come on, everybody gather." Patrick flicks his cigarette off to the rocky pathway and snags the bottle from Art's hands. He raises it, nodding at you with that same smirk he's had for years. Snarky, cocky, and yet endearing. "To celebrate new beginnings. Even if your future husband's a dick and can't make you cum nearly half as hard as I can. Good luck, babe."

The rest of you all make a noise of annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Seriously?"

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Art scoffs, though there's a faint smile tugging at his lips as you let a giggle slip out past your fake annoyance.

Patrick's smile only widens at the sound of his friends' protests. It reminds him of the good old years when his biggest worry was which shorts he'd wear to his next game. "Cheers!"

As the bottle is passed around, Tashi can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with bitterness. The comradery of the past clashes painfully with the reality of the present. Is this how things are going to be like now? Is this night a call for a truce, waving the white flag so that all of you could be friends again, now as adults, making plans for brunch and getting the kids together for birthday parties?

You take another sip from the bottle, your gaze drifting towards the moonlit sky. "To new beginnings," you repeat softly, though the hope in your voice is tinged with uncertainty.

Tashi leans back, her eyes lingering on you, a mix of longing and regret pooling in her heart. Art sits quietly beside her, lost in his thoughts, while Patrick’s laughter rings out, masking deeper sentiments beneath his forced cheerfulness. The chatter and music from the hall spill into the garden, the warm lights casting a golden glow over the scene. Patrick talks animatedly about the seasons he thinks he has left in him, and to Tashi's annoyance, you encourage him.

She shakes her head at the way Patrick's eyes light up, glancing at her with a knowing look. Despite her irritation, she can't deny the comfort of slipping back into their old dynamic.

Suddenly, Art hums thoughtfully. He has been mostly quiet, listening to the conversation with occasional quiet laughs. Now, as he puts down the empty bottle of wine, he looks at you, his eyes more alive than they have been in a long time. "I had a burger for the first time in years," he announces, a smile spreading across his face as if he is proud of it.

You gasp, perking up as you reach over to hold his hands. "How was it?"

"Amazing," Art says fondly, "like heaven inside a bun."

"You should've seen him," Tashi smirks, shoulder to shoulder with Patrick, playfully kicking Art. "He was drooling just looking at the menu."

He rolls his eyes, "I wasn't drooling." When you fall silent, he looks at you again, frowning. "You haven't had one in a while, have you?"

You shake your head, "No, I think the last time I had one was when we graduated."

Patrick scoffs, "Bullshit."

You laugh, "It's true! I've been very strict with my diet. And now that I've retired... I don't know..." You shrug, suddenly getting shy as Art starts tracing stars against the back of your hand. "There are so many options, I wouldn't know where to start."

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy," Tashi says.

"Pretty sure I saw an old diner on the way here," Patrick suggests. He stands, stretching and groaning before bending over to take Tashi's hand and help her up.

You sputter, watching them all start to stand before you. "Shut up, we're not driving, you're drunk."

"But sober enough to see how badly you want this," Patrick teases, waving a finger near your face and smirking. "You're drooling."

"No, I'm not!"

"Sure you are," Art joins in, pulling you up to your feet. He swipes a thumb at your chin, "Look right there, by your lip."

"Oh," Tashi grins, "I see it."

"Shut up, Tash, no you don't." The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. The old nickname fits too smoothly as if it hasn't been years since you've called her that. Tashi smiles, feeling like a teenager again, messing around with you. She starts to walk off, Art and Patrick following her while you stand there, dumbfounded and a little breathless from their teasing.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a burger?" Tashi shrugs, and she smirks at you, a mischievous smile that makes you wonder if any of you have ever grown up at all. "You coming or what?"

You try to be reasonable, "I can't just leave."

"We'll bring you back before anyone notices," Patrick bargains, jogging back to your side and taking your arm to lead you to the exit. "Lighten up, when was the last time you had some fun?"

You don't even look back.

You find yourself laughing, nodding as the four of you make your way out of the garden. The moonlight guides your steps, casting long shadows on the path.

The walk is a blur of laughter and shared stories, the kind of carefree joy that you haven't felt in years. Before long, you arrive at the diner. The neon lights buzz softly, casting a nostalgic glow over the parking lot. You can smell the greasy, comforting aroma of burgers and fries even before you step inside.

The few people in the diner stare, watching as what seems to be a runaway bride and three wedding guests stumble and giggle over each other, lips a little purple from the wine you've all had and ordering burgers to go.

Once you have your food, you all find yourselves sitting on the curb of the diner's parking lot, the warm night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Patrick hands out the burgers, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous light as he makes a show of presenting yours to you. "First bite in... how many years?"

"Too many," You take the burger with a chuckle, unwrapping it and taking a bite. "Oh my God," you mumble around your mouthful, "this is amazing."

Tashi watches you, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Told you."

Art takes a bite of his own burger, nodding in agreement. "There's nothing like it."

You shake your head, going in for more, "This is the greatest thing I've put in my mouth."

Patrick, already halfway through his, lets out a loud laugh, "Yeah, I bet."

The parking lot felt like a little bubble of the past, untouched by the years that had separated you. It was strange how easy it was to fall back into the rhythm of your old friendships, how natural it felt to banter and laugh as if no time had passed at all.

Tashi rolls her eyes, though you don't even seem phased by Patrick's joke. "I can't even get mad," you say, swallowing, "I feel like I'm eighteen again."

"Tell me about it," Art agrees. Then he pauses for a beat, chewing on her burger a little slower before turning to you. "You know, this reminds me of that time... when, you know."

"Oh," You snort and nod, scrunching up your face at the memory. "Yeah. It kinda does."

"What?" Patrick looks between the two of you, raising his brow in interest. "What time?"

"It was a long time ago," you tell him.

"Like back in Stanford," Art explains, and then he points between Tashi and Patrick with his burger, "when you two were still a thing."

Tashi sits up straight now, her full attention on you and Art. "Oh, really?"

"It was that time Patrick came for a surprise visit in the middle of our girls' night," you say, nodding your head at her, hoping she'd catch up with the memory. "And you kicked me out of your dorm so you and Patrick could... you know."

Tashi nods. "Have some alone time." She finishes for you.

She remembers that night well: you were both nestled in the haven of her dorm room, the soft glow of the television casting gentle shadows on the walls as the movie played on. You were curled up under her covers, your bodies intertwined, legs tangled together in a comforting knot. The world outside ceased to exist in those moments, leaving just the two of you in your little cocoon of comfort.

Tashi can still feel the sensation of your fingers running through her hair, the tender, rhythmic motion soothing her in a way nothing else could. The warmth of your touch lingered on her scalp, your fingers traced lazy patterns, and she remembered the way her body instinctively relaxed into yours.

But then came the knock on the door, and she felt her heart jump at her throat as she swung her legs out from under the covers and padded softly to the door.

When she opened the door, there stood Patrick, his presence almost surreal. He was holding a bouquet of carefully picked-out flowers, their vibrant colours contrasting sharply with the dim light of the hallway. His smirk was both nervous and charming

"You kicked her out?" Patrick gasps, and Tashi gives him a blank stare. He's acting as if he wasn't even there, as if he didn't stand by her desk while watching her scramble to clean up the mess the two of you made in her dorm and shove you out the door before locking it.

Patrick shrugs, that stupid smirk painted on his lips again before he finishes his burger. "Would've let you stay if it were up to me," he tells you, "The more, the merrier."

"No way," you poke your tongue at the inside of your cheek. "She wanted you all for herself."

"Please, I would've been too distracted with you to even give him my time of day," Tashi admits. "I did you a favor, Patrick. Saved you from blue balls."

He holds a hand to his heart. "I'm so honored."

"But anyway," you start, "while I was walking back to my dorm I bumped into Art, who got stood up on a date."

Patrick blinks, turning to Art. "You got stood up?"

"Was it that girl from marketing?" Tashi asks.

Art's cheeks start to turn red, the flush growing from his neck and up to his ears at the attention. "Yeah, she, uh, she bailed on me last minute."

"I remember you telling me the date went well," Patrick says. "That you guys went out late, bought takeout... you made out in your car," Then, to fuck with him, he adds, "You came in your pants 'cause she kissed your neck. Remember?"

"And that did happen," Art confesses begrudgingly, glaring at Patrick while Tashi laughs. "It’s just... it wasn't with her..."

"It... it was me," you admit.

Tashi wishes she could say she's surprised, but it's nearly impossible because anyone who knew you back in college knew very well about the big crush you harboured for a certain blonde. She knew the way you swooned after him, even if you never tried to admit it because it was too embarrassing.

"Wait, so," Tashi starts, poking at your side and drawing a nervous giggle from you. It makes her smile. "Is Art that guy you told me about, with the puppy eyes and pretty smile?"

"Okay," you puff out, blushing, "I did not say puppy eyes."

"You think I have puppy eyes?" Art asks you, his gaze softening.

When you take a few seconds too long to answer, Patrick claps his hands together and swings his arm over yours and Art's shoulders, pulling the two of you closer to him. "Aw," he teasingly coos at the two of you getting all flustered, "you think he has puppy eyes."

"It was so long ago," you say, running your hands over the soft fabric of your dress. "I don't even remember."

"I'm so sure you don't," Patrick hums, a knowing look in his eyes before he presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek.

You groan, shoving your hand in his face to push him off before you stumble to stand on your feet again, wiping your cheek from his spit. "You're disgusting," you huff, but there's no real bite in your words because there's a faint smile threatening to appear at the corners of your lips. 

You stand there for a beat or two, brushing off your dress and feeling the weight of the night settling in. You stare down at the three of them sitting on the curb, the neon lights of the diner buzzing behind you. You can see the hall where your engagement party is from where you stand; you almost don't want to go back.

"Okay," you tuck your lower lip between your teeth as you hesitate, "this... this has been fun."

"Don't leave yet," Tashi says while Art's smile drops, his face falling in disappointment.

"Yeah," Patrick rushes to stand, reaching for you, "the party was just getting started."

"I really have to get back," you step away. "If anyone finds out I left, I'll hear about it for days. This has been great. Like, seriously, I don't think I've ever laughed this hard since before..." You trail off, your tongue getting tied as you glance at Tashi, then at her knee, covered by the length of her dark purple dress. You clear your throat. "Well, uh, I better go. But thank you again, for the beer and the burgers and the memories. I hope you guys can make it to the wedding."

You start to walk away before they can say anything. Like, on purpose, as if you know that if they tried to make you stay and ditch your party, you would. You would cave to their defences.

The sound of your heels is deafening. Tashi watches you go, she watches how you wrap your arms around yourself, and it all feels too similar to how she watched you go all those years ago and never chased after you. 

"Don’t marry him," Tashi stands from the curb. She's shaky on her feet, taking long strides to walk past Patrick and hoping to catch up to you. She sees you freeze in your steps, barely out of the parking lot. You turn to look at her quickly, face falling in shock at her demand.

"What?" Your voice is quiet, hoping that your ears are betraying you.

Tashi slows down once she is close enough, the distance between you is almost nothing but the gap feels like miles. The red and blue lights from the neon sign blend into a deep purple against your skin, casting an ethereal glow that makes this moment feel suspended in time. She watches your face, sees the way your brows knit together, the flicker of anger and confusion in your eyes.

Her heart is pounding, the blood rushing in her ears almost drowning out her voice. But she forces herself to speak, her voice low and urgent. "Don’t marry him," she says again, each word feeling like it's being ripped from her chest. Her resolve, which had held firm all these years, finally crumbles.

Getting Patrick back into her life had been one of the most complicated, tangled pains she had ever undertaken. The late-night calls, the awkward meetings, the painstakingly slow rebuilding of trust between herself and Art. 

None of it had been easy.

Yet, even with Patrick back, there had always been something missing—a void that only you could fill.

She looks into your eyes, her gaze unwavering, despite the tears welling up. "Please," she pleads, her voice breaking. "Please, don't marry him." The words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea that carries years of longing and regret. She knows that having you back won't make up for the lost time, and won't magically fix all the mistakes and missed opportunities. But she can at least try, can at least fight for the chance to make things right.

"Tashi, you can't possibly be asking me to—"

"It’s not worth it," she tells you anyway, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken truths. She knows it’s a risk, a gamble she's taking by laying her heart bare, but she can’t hold back any longer. The years of resentment, of silent longing, bubble to the surface, fueled by the sight of you with someone else's ring on your finger. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the realization that she resented you not for leaving, but for never coming back. 

Why didn't you come back?

Tashi's words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea born from years of unspoken desires and regrets. "Both of you want different things anyway. You don't love him," she continues, her voice raw with emotion, "it's not gonna last. One day you're gonna wake up in the middle of the night and realize I'm right. You'd hate to admit it, but I will be right. I am right. He doesn't deserve you. He's no good for you."

You scoff, "And you are?"

"You said it yourself," she presses on, her voice barely above a whisper, "You've never laughed the way you do with us. And you kept in touch with Patrick, so that's gotta mean something." It's a feeble attempt to grasp at straws. "Marrying him will just be another excuse, another stupid reason. I thought you were better than that."

Then she remembers that night before you left for London, back in 2012. It's like a distant memory now, a flicker of what could have been. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension palpable as you stood on the precipice of something new. She remembers the way your eyes met hers after your exchange with Art at the hotel bar, a brief greeting with an old friend, both of you at the peaks of your careers. It is a silent exchange of longing and regret. For a moment, it felt like time stood still, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

She remembers the smell of your perfume, the bitterness of the drink you were having and how she could taste it when she kissed you; tongue running over your teeth, nails clawing at skin, hair tangled between fingers, hot breaths and unkept promises and false apologies and a night of regret.

And then the morning came, and with it, you had to leave. And she never stopped you.

"Tashi… I can't just throw this all away for you. For any of you. You were the one who told me to leave."

"I know."

"Because you know everything, right? Because you know he's not good for me, you know it all."

"I know you."

"No, you don’t," you say, your voice tinged with hurt. "Not anymore.”

Tashi huffs, shaking her head before she reaches out, cupping your cheeks gently in her hands. Her lips hover over yours for a moment, a silent plea hanging in the air between you. She waits, her heart pounding in her chest, for you to make a move—to kiss her, to push her away, anything.

You gaze into her eyes, tears glistening in the dim light, before finally closing the distance between you. The kiss is tender, and bittersweet, a culmination of years of unspoken longing and regret. It's a brief moment of solace amid chaos.

Your hands dig into the nape of her neck, where the short ends of her dyed hair tickle the skin of your wrist. The heat of your engagement ring nearly burns her, the edge of the diamond scraping against her skin.

When you pull away, breathless, Tashi fears this will be the last time she will see you. 

"Tashi, this doesn’t change anything," you say, your voice trembling.

"It changes everything," she whispers, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You know it does."

But you step back, breaking the contact, the distance between you growing with each passing moment. "I have to go," you murmur, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders. "I need to think."

As you walk away, Tashi watches you go, her heart heavy with uncertainty. She clings to the memory of that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. 

Back in the hotel room, an uneasy silence settles among the trio. Tashi steps out of the shower, her mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. The press of your lips still lingers on her own, a persistent buzz that crawls under her skin. 

As she rubs lotion into her arms, she takes her time, methodically moving over each inch of her skin as if she could somehow rub away the confusion and yearning. She finishes her skincare routine, staring at herself in the mirror, almost meeting the eyes of the eighteen-year-old girl who had her whole life ahead of her. It's a constant chant in her head not to dwell in the past. 

She has to focus—she needs to find a way to pull Patrick Zweig out of the top 200 ranks and get him qualified for the US Open by the time the next season starts.

Speaking of the devil, when Tashi steps out of the bathroom, she finds Patrick lounging on the loveseat by the open window. Naturally, his shirt has found itself a home on the floor, and a cigarette dangles from his lips.

He perks up when she walks out, sitting up to greet her, "Don't beat yourself up."

Tashi rolls her eyes and climbs into the bed, letting herself sink into the soft comforter. "Shut the fuck up, Patrick. And put that shit out."

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette out the window, grinning when he hears Tashi scoff. "She's a stubborn little shit," he says as the hotel door clicks open and Art walks in. Patrick hums, "Probably only marrying him to piss us off anyway. Been trying to talk her out of it for months. Never listens."

"She might listen to Tashi," Art says, turning to his wife with a hint of optimism in his voice. "Lily's asleep, by the way."

"Right, because my word is stronger than both of yours," Tashi retorts, pulling the blanket over her legs.

Art and Patrick glance at each other before nodding, "Yes."

"Well, yeah."

They all sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own little bubble. The hotel room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of the bedspread. 

Art joins Tashi on the bed, absently flipping through the channels on the television, the remote clicking softly in his hand. Beside him, Tashi pretends to read a book, her eyes scanning the same sentence over and over again without really absorbing the words. Meanwhile, Patrick rummages through the mini fridge, the sound of bottles clinking and wrappers crinkling breaking the stillness.

A quiet knock on the door makes the three of them freeze, their heads snapping up in unison. They exchange hesitant glances, each wondering if they imagined it. Then three raps against the wood sound again, more insistent this time. Patrick scrambles to the door, Art and Tashi close behind him, their curiosity piqued and their hearts pounding.

Patrick swings the door open, and there you are, a sight for sore eyes. You're still in the same dress, though one of the straps has fallen off your shoulder, and your makeup is smudged around your eyes. You hold your phone close, dropping it from your ear.

"I tried calling," you say, turning your phone so they can see Patrick's contact, a simple 'pat' with a cute tennis ball emoji next to his nickname. "You never answered."

"My phone died." He shrugs.

You let your hand fall to your front, where your fingers pull on each other nervously. Tashi can't help but notice the lack of a ring on your finger all of a sudden. She raises her brows at you, a knowing look flashing across her face before she tells you, "Something's changed."

You roll your eyes and step into the room, sliding between Art and Patrick easily. "A lot has changed." You walk until you reach the middle of the room. 

It's a big hotel room, not nearly as big as the ones Art and Tashi are used to staying in, but big and luxurious nonetheless. You fit in perfectly with your white gown and styled hair, a vision of elegance even in your dishevelled state.

You turn, facing the three of them again. "I hope whatever offer you guys were hinting at earlier still stands... I don't exactly have anywhere else to stay, unless I want to hear my mother telling me how she was right the entire night."

Tashi smirks. "You know I'm about to tell you the same thing too, right?" She closes the space between the two of you, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. Her nails brush against your jaw in a feather-light touch until her fingers pause below your lips.

"Yeah, I know."

You don't seem too upset about it. Instead, you're grinning, letting Tashi push her thumb between your lips. The gesture is intimate, charged with unspoken emotion. You're standing face-to-face when she says, "I told you so."

She leads you to sit on the bed, and you let her, nearly tripping over your heels before you land on the soft duvets. Tashi leans down, her nose brushing against yours, and you swallow your heart racing.

"You were right," you murmur. It's hard to maintain eye contact when your skin is buzzing with heat and when there's so much going on in the depths of her eyes that it dizzies you. "I hate it, though."

Her nose is cold against yours, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her breath. You let your eyes fall shut as she slowly traces patterns under your chin, pressing her thumb harder into your mouth before pulling it out. She catches the side of your face with it, making a mess with your spit.

She smiles, "I know you do."

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, there's a shiver rolling down your spine.

Tashi releases a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, her lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as her lips, warm and smooth, explore your own.

It's a little fumbly, nervous and making you tremble under her hands. Tashi loves every second of it. Her fingers grip your face tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into her hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, she slips her tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

Tashi ends up straddling you, making out like you're both teenagers again, putting on a show for Art and Patrick. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. 

You moan softly as she pulls away from your mouth, her attention shifting to your neck. As you watch Patrick and Art make their way to sit next to you on the bed, the bed dipping, you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to Tashi. You whimper as you feel her lips drag over your exposed skin. She nibbles and sucks until she finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

"Fuck," you whimper. You tug on her air-dried curls, coaxing her back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of her mouth on yours. Tashi sighs, and you can feel her smiling into it while beckoning Art and Patrick to join in.

Their lips are on you in a split second, with Art pressing soft, ticklish kisses against your collarbone, and Patrick sliding his tongue from your shoulder to the back of your ear. He's moaning at the taste of you, sucking a bruise under your jaw while digging his hand into the back of your hair. 

He slowly starts to bring his sloppy kisses to your mouth, lips brushing against Tashi's and your own before she draws back. You whine, pouting as you watch her take a few steps away before making herself comfortable in the cushioned seats by a small dining table. You can't pout for too long, because now Patrick is kissing you, tugging softly at your hair until your back arches.

His tongue presses against yours, pressing as far back as he can reach, swallowing your every moan and whimper. You bring your hand up to scratch at his beard, then run your nails over his scalp. This is when Art starts to get a little bolder by running his hands up and down your thighs, pulling and pulling the long skirt of your dress until he reaches the end of it and he can touch your skin and take off your heels, tossing them aside somewhere.

Patrick traps your lower lip between his teeth, watching it bounce back into its place as he leans back just the slightest bit. You break apart with a whimper. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, then flick down to the trail of spit strung between your glistening lips. He stares at you, cheeks a little red as he smirks, "I've missed this. Missed you."

You smile, breathless as Art's hand makes its way up higher and higher and closer to your heat, his mouth is relentless with its attack at your neck. He grinds his crotch against the side of your leg and you cradle the back of his head with your other hand.

"You saw me last week, Patrick."

"Last week?" Art pulls away. His lips are parted, eyes a little dazed but focused enough to stare between you and Patrick in confusion. Tashi smirks from where she sits and shifts in her place.

"We're not all perfect, Art." You groan, rolling your eyes as Patrick laughs, reaching over you to start pulling down Art's pants who shifts in his place to let him. Once they're off, he looks at you, and it's embarrassing how fast you tangle together, melding together into a pathetic heap on the bed for Tashi and Patrick to see. 

Your lips move in tandem, his soft, pouty lips slitting against yours with ease as you lead his hands to your chest and shove them under your dress.

Art squeezes and fondles your breasts over your bra, his hips jerking against your leg again, almost desperate as his boner presses against the fabric of your dress as it has fallen down again.

Tashi startles you as she settles behind, one knee on the bed while her other long leg steadies her on the carpeted floor below. You let her tilt you backward, parting you from Art and she draws you into an upside-down kiss. The salacious kiss leaves your legs parting for the two men beside you. 

Patrick makes quick work of taking that damn dress off of you and you sputter out a pathetic moan when Art's soft hands tease your hardening nipples once Patrick gets half of it off.

Your dress eventually falls into a heap on the floor in front of the bed, you’d matched with it a white paired set underneath. 

"No fucking way," You peek one eye open slightly to see Patrick scowling while Art runs his hands everywhere he can reach, across your stomach, your thighs, under your boobs, down your back. 

Patrick tilts his head and groans, "I can't believe you wore this shit for him."

Your hand cups Tashi's jaw to deepen the kiss as you both ignore Patrick, only Art snorting out a laugh as he tugs his shirt over his head. 

Patrick slots himself between your open legs, stopping just a breath short of your aching cunt to nip teasingly at your soft inner thigh before dragging his mouth up to your neck again. He revels in the moans he's able to draw from you as he finally comes to caress your face. 

You pull away from Tashi and gasp in a breath. "Kiss me, Pat," You bite your lip, feeling your heart race as he eyes you up so openly. 

"Beg me," He counters with a quirked brow, challenging you. 

Your nose crinkles, "I'm not doing that."

"I'm not kissing you, then."

"Shut up and kiss her, Patrick," Tashi groans, attached to Art. She holds his face the same way she did with you, pulling him closer and letting the man crawl to her. But she's glaring at Patrick with venom behind it you know she can’t mean when she's trembling under Art's gentle touch as he slips off her silky nightgown.

"Come here," You beckon Patrick closer with a fiendish look in your half-lidded eyes.

"Yes, ma'am." Patrick nods, dazed as he obliges. "Anything you want, beautiful," His voice slightly slurs as the space between you diminishes once again. "I'll do anything for you," His husky voice drapes around your name like velvet as it's whispered against your plush lips.

Your hands easily find themselves tangled in Patrick's curly hair and tug him to your lips with aching want. You dive in immediately, lips meshing against and, eventually, catching against his chapped lips. 

A moan escapes from your throat and he uses it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. From there, it's another flurry of saliva, tongue and entirely too much white-hot pressure building below. 

When you break for a breath, a string of saliva stretches between each of your red, puffy lips. Patrick groans at the sight and pulls you in for a slower, raw kiss that leaves you slick and trembling for more. When you pull apart again, Patrick plants a sweet kiss on Art's mouth before focusing back solely on you, his hand slowly approaching your white thong.

When he starts to rub, you moan into his mouth and start trailing your hand to his crotch, palming his dick. Patrick reciprocates easily and tugs at your lower lip with an impish look in his eyes. 

Lips attack your neck again, pulling you higher up on the bed. You hear pants and clothes being shed from every angle around you before you're surrounded again, hands everywhere.

While Art pulls Patrick into a kiss, Tashi cups your face again and draws you into a gentle one as you settle between her legs, your back to her chest. You rest your head on Tashi's shoulder as you heave out another breath, her hands travelling from your navel to tracing shapes on your clit, over your wet panties, spreading your legs apart with her own. 

"Please, Tash," you whimper as her fingers curl around the edge of the fabric and tug so it strains against your leaking cunt perfectly. She then decides to skim a whisper of her touch against your pulsing ache. 

You gape as Patrick wraps his hand around Art's dick, stoking it, and he lets out the prettiest little whine. Patrick slowly works his way down Art's body, running his tongue between each curve of his muscles, collecting the sweat that's been building on his skin before wrapping his mouth around him, taking all of it in one insatiable bob of his head.

Tashi's nails tickle lightly up your stomach, then in the valley between your breasts and then back down again. It has you spiralling, arching your back as she presses a kiss at your neck.

"You're being so good," she coos into your ear. Your name is only a breath out of her mouth, and she's edging your clit with a gentle roughness that could only come from a woman of her calibre. Tashi pulls your panties aside and flicks and flits about your dripping cunt like she already knows how to make you come undone.

It makes you tremble. You'd sworn up and down earlier about how Tashi didn't know you anymore, and here she is, proving to you that she still does, that she knows every curve and divot of your body, that she still knows what makes you whimper and twitch.

Your hand quickly reaches behind you, between the heat of your back and her body and finds her clit and you try to emulate how she's making you weak. Each quiet gasp you earn from her has you moaning back tenfold under her saccharine trance and she quickly starts pumping two fingers into you.

One particular flick of Tashi's thumb on your clit coupled with her lips gliding against and sucking your own in a wanton kiss sends you over the edge. You moan and cum, back arching as you relentlessly force Tashi's hand against your cunt, searching for more delicious friction. 

She takes you all, and lets you ride it all out on her fingers while swallowing every moan you let out in a lewd, wet kiss. Art and Patrick moan appreciatively at the two of you, then focus back on each other.

Before you're able to come down from your high, Art's shoving his come down Patrick's greedy throat. He swallows it all, pulling off Art's red-tipped cock with a vulgar pop that creates a trail of saliva in its wake. 

Patrick smiles down at you and leans closer, and you think he's about to kiss you but then he swerves and kisses Tashi instead, who removes her hand from your cunt and slowly works it up his thigh until she cups his balls and gives them a gentle squeeze. He moans into her mouth, winking at you amid his impromptu make-out session you were tempted to join.

You shimmy back and turn on your stomach, positioning yourself between Tashi's long tanned legs. "Can I eat you out?" You ask while kissing up her leg, and you want to hear how much she needs you. You bite at your bottom lip as you nuzzle into her juicy cunt. "Tashi?" You look up at her from where your face is pressed against her. Her sweet smell makes you sigh as you tease your tongue with her hip bone. "Please, Tash, let me taste you." 

"Yeah, go for it," Comes her breathless plea.

You finally pull her lips apart, revelling in how she squirms against your hold on her hips. 

You're on your knees, trapped arching between Tashi's long legs when you hear Art clear his throat. You give one long lick up Tashi's twitching cunt before turning around with her slick dribbling down onto your chin to where Art has sidled up behind you.

Art crawls closer to you, "Can I touch you, beautiful?" He tilts your chin up as he awaits your answer. 

When you nod, he easily descends upon your lips, placing a sure hand behind your head as he deepens the kiss into something absolutely filthy. As soon as you break apart, he kisses your shoulder, then down your spine.

Tashi guides you back to her. You allow her nails to tangle in your locks as she forces your head back down against her arching hips.

"Shit," Patrick huffs, rough hands reaching for the globes of your ass while Art's smoother ones trail up your spread, inner thighs. Tashi tugs at his dick a little harder, which has him panting against her lips.

Tashi gasps as you flick at her clit then quickly move to tease her entrance with the tip of your tongue. You flatten your tongue, dragging it across her length and repeat the motion until she whines for you to stop. 

You slurp the combination of drool and slick as you pull away with a pussy-drunk smile. She meets it with a panting, dazed one and removes her hand from your hair to push her own out of her eyes while Patrick sucks at her neck.

"Ah!" You startle forward into Tashi's tits as Art finally breeches your entrance with his index finger. 

"Eat our girl out, Art," Tashi motions for Art to lie down under your spread form to get a better angle. You can't deny that the new nickname drives you a little crazy. "Show her she's ours."

Art's soft hands draw another moan out of you as they assuredly grip your hips to keep you in place while he unleashes teasing licks against your pussy.

Tashi draws you back to her. You'd know that look anywhere—she's ready to cum.

"I want you," Her breath hitches around your name while your tongue steals the rest of her coherent words until she's a withering mess under your touch. 

Her pornstar-worthy moans ring out across the room like a beautiful symphony. Tashi's wanton noises coupled with the wet whines you're unleashing against her folds until the two of you create the lewdest duet this hotel's ever heard. 

She arches against the bedframe as she tells you her near release, tugging at your hair as she draws closer and closer to the edge.

Panting, she draws you against her lips for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. 

"Fuck, Tashi," You groan against her plump lips, feeling your own impending orgasm drawing near. "You're so fucking hot, I-"

She cuts off your rambling with another wet kiss. Her tongue flicks out to tease yours before sucking it into her mouth with a lewd slurp. Your hand works alongside hers to leave her shaking and whimpering against your lips as she comes undone by your hand. You smack her cunt lightly, eating the groan she feeds into your open mouth as she rides it out.

Tashi eats your moans as they echo against your messy tangling of lips and tongues.

Art's fingers start to pick up a pace as Patrick, feeling left out, starts thrusting his throbbing cock in the middle of your sapphic kiss with Tashi. You eye the two with half-lidded eyes as you share Patrick's cock with her. After only a few moments in your mouth, Patrick pulls out and releases across Tashi's and your expectant tongues.

"So fucking good to me," Patrick pants as he splatters the last of his come across your faces with a shaky groan. "Best fucking orgasm ever, swear it," He says as he encases his lips around yours, swapping his cum between your mouths before moving to Tashi to do the same.

Art moves out from under you, offering your knees relief as he lays you back against Tashi's stomach to fuck into you.

It's a slow and cruel pace, only made crueller by how Patrick and Tashi touch you like they already know where you want to be touched. Each brunette takes a side, Patrick sucking your tit into his mouth while Tashi's mouth draws you in for a kiss. Her nails tickle at your other erect nipples until you're arching off of her and into Art's thrusts, making him whimper.

"Just like that," Art whines your name. "You're so fucking tight."

It's when Patrick and Tashi move their attention down to your clit that you know you're fucked. Patrick spreads your folds with two fingers, watching as intensely as Art does as his cock disappears in and out of your hole.

"He could've never made you feel like this, right?" Tashi rasps. "He has no strategy, no real game. Just a fucking waste of space. Could never make you feel this good, this loved."

You don't need her to say his name, you know what she means. You're panting, shaking your head against her shoulder. "Never."

"Told ya," Patrick laughs into your skin. "Make her cum, Art. C'mon, man." 

"Fuck- please," You whimper, nodding. "I need to come, baby-" Without warning, you arch off of Tashi. Neither she nor Patrick stops their jerks against your clit as you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head with the thrum of a second wave creeping up on you with a steady building heat. Waves of pleasure roll over you as the tantalizing sensations become too much. You come loudly, arching pathetically off the bed as you desperately reach for Art, to hold him.

You're wriggling in Tashi and Patrick's arms as Art pulls out and releases across your expanding and retracting stomach as you pant out the remnants of your orgasm. 

"Shit," He moans, and his voice sends waves of aftershock across your body while his steady hands draw you against his naked chest for a toe-curling kiss.

You'd never been happier to have invited Patrick Zweig to your engagement party.

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#to the person who sent this request #i love you #you’re feeding my delusions #tashi’s hotel room #art’s lockerroom #patrick’s backseat #tashi duncan x reader #tashi duncan x you #tashi duncan smut #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #patrick x tashi #art x tashi #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art x patrick #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #challengers x reader #challengers smut #challengers 2024 #challengers movie #challengers

[bubbless-s]

⌗ ୨۫ 𖥔 ۫ Whispers of the heart ୧ ׅ𖥔𓍯

Context: Slytherin boys + Pansy finding out you can turn into their favourite animal (you’re an animagus)

Masterlist

-ʚɞ genre: fluff

-ʚɞ warnings: extremely delusional

Tom Riddle

• So fascinated.

• Handles you with care.

• “My little snake.”

• Absolutely loves it when you wrap yourself around his throat?

• Asks you to bite the people who annoy him.

• Carries you around in his pocket.

• You swear you saw him smile when you snuggled inside his robes.

Mattheo Riddle

• “You look so stunning.”

• Literally bewitched.

• “You make a good pillow.”

• Pets you and plays with your fur.

• “Go bite Blaises ass please 🙏”

• Laughs when he sees someone else scared of you.

• Also all giggles and cackles when you lick his forehead as a joke.

Theodore Nott

• Childhood dream come true.

• “You’re so gorgeous amore mio..”

• “What if we replace you with one of the dragons in the tournament.”

• Holds onto for dear life when he first rode with you.

• “Can you blow flames too?”

• Moistureses your scales when he thinks they look too ‘rough’.

• Jokingly bought you a childrens book named ‘What do dragons like to eat?’

Draco Malfoy

• Gets so excited.

• Gets jealous of other ferrets when they come around you??😭

• A little too ready to buy you little ferret clothes.

• “So adorable.”

• One of his rings is the double the size of your paws and Draco finds that strangely cute.

• Saw somewhere that ferrets like to dance. And like. He kinda wants to see you dancing.

• Gave you an atrocious hairstyle. (Slick back)

Lorenzo Berskshire

• “OH MY GAWD.”

• Cuteness aggression at max.

• “Can I carry you around like a backpack?”

• DOES carry you around like a backpack.

• Puts a little bow on you. (First coquette koala?!)

• “I wonder if they sell koala tutus.”

• “You’re so cute Im going insane.”

Blaise Zabini

• “NO WAY.”

• Also has cuteness aggression.

• Rubs your stomach.

• Saw you using your tail as a blanket and took hundreds of pictures.

• Goes crazy when you stuck your tongue out.

• Blaises search history: ‘What do red pandas eat?’ ‘Do red pandas get cold easily?’ ‘Red panda..’ ect ect

• Highkey gives you the cat treatment.

Pansy Parkinson

•Loves your floppy ears but also teases you about them.

• “Ears so big you could fly if you tried.”

• Very secretly loves when you get the zoomies in her room.

• Boops your nose.

• Gives you a bowl of baby carrots whenever you visit her.

• Puts you on her lap or stomach.

• Made you a little space on her desk so you can watch her while she studies.

#idk why i did this lol #slytherin #slytherin x reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #lorenzo berkshire #blaise zabini #blaise zabini x reader #pansy parkinson #pansy parkinson x reader

[elliesgaythoughts]

Tattoo pt.2

Dom!ellie x Sub reader

a/n: I was scared that this wouldn’t live up to pt1 but imma just publish it anyway bc she’ll just sit collecting dust otherwise.

warnings: trans Ellie, dommy mommy Ellie, missionary, squirting, sub reader, mommy & mama kink, drunk reader and high Ellie, Ellie eats your fine self up against a wall and that’s all I remember from a dazed 3am writing session🫶

your heels echoed down the halls of your apartment building, each click bringing back the faint memories of the promise Ellie made you before you left, the taste of alcohol on your tongue and the ringing of her words pitter pattering against your skull “imma get you pregnant when you get back” fuck.

you giggled to yourself as you fumbled with your door lock, the sound of hinges creaking after the click of your key.

the smell of weed engulfed you as you stepped past the threshold, kicking your heels off and following the sound of animated gunshots “hey, mama” you giggled, leaning and attempting a seductive pose against her doorframe, her low, heavy lidded eyes silently took in every curve you had to offer. she sat like that for a minute or so, both of you in a comfortable silence, practically eye fucking one another.

your eyes fluttered at the muscles that adorned her shoulders, the bumps and shapes of the strength her arms held, the veins on the hand the rested on her pale thigh, right beside the thing that had you more intoxicated than any overpriced cocktail you sipped that night.

she shamelessly started at the curve of your breasts in the slutty piece of clothing you wore and the plush of your thighs pressing together as you broke the silence between you both “you made me a promise…” you trail off, knawing at your lip.

her lips curve into a teasing smirk as she leaned forward, tipping her blunt into the planet themed ashtray you bought her “hmm, you know what?” before you can ever answer “i can’t quite remember what it was” her fingertips on her chin as she pretends to try remember “babeee” you huff, your foot lightly slamming to the floor in a pathetic attempt at anger “you know exactly what you promised me.”

she rolls her eyes and signals you forward with the tilt of her head and you obediently step towards the cocky girl, your eyes practically begging her as you look down at her, green eyes level with your core and her hands on your hips “ohhh…” she pecks your belly “now I remember” she fakes shock and raises to her feet, practically towering over you, her hand slides up to your waist then down to your lower belly “i was gonna fuck a baby into you” she speaks nonchalantly.

your heart skips a beat, the alcohol already having your head spinning but her words had you almost passing out cold “mhmm” you hum, speechless, while trying to hide the smile that was creeping into your face, running your palms down her toned torso, she watches you “mhm” she returns, that sultry look in her eye.

“okay mama..” she trails off as she kisses the front of your throat, down your collar bones right between your two pushed up tits. she pauses, sighing against them then suddenly rubbing her face between the plush flesh, eliciting a giggle from you as her lips curve up to a cute smirk, her soft kisses trailing down your torso, her palms sliding up your outer thigh and hiking your skirt up to your waist as she falls to her knees “eyes on me princess” and you nod, watching her tongue dart out and run along your clothed pussy, the warmth of her mouth meeting the warmth between your thighs as she hums contently her palms spreading you thighs thurther apart as she buries her face in your pussy.

A squeal of surprise leaving you when her hands grip tightly to your hips and lifts you onto her shoulders, standing straight and pressing you against the nearest wall, her dainty fingers tearing the fabric of the lace on your thong to the side and not sparing a second before she runs her tongue through your folds, your head falling back against the wall. a strained “ffuck” leaving you and your fingers pulling harshly on her hair as she attacks your clit with gentle sucks and flicks of her tongue “tastes so good” her words slip against your wetness as she speaks your pussy.

“feels so good” you praise as she pushes her tongue inside you, making your toes curl in your pretty high heels and your heart beat out of your chest “d-don’t stop” the tip of her pretty nose nudging your throbbing clit as you squeeze onto her pink muscle “mommy..” you warn and she knows exactly what you mean as she picks up her pace, making the band in your belly snap with the tremble of your thighs and a whimper of her name as you fall limp against the wall, panting as you giggle from your high, Ellie’s eyes trailing up over you, a furrow between her brows, clearly not satisfied with making you cum just once as she places kisses to your inner thigh before letting you slip down the wall and catching your legs around her waist, walking you to the edge of her bed before laying you down and leaning over you.

She drags her beating tip through your folds, her teeth in her bottom lip as she meets your puffy clit and draws soft circles around it as you impatiently buck your hips up “please” a hum of dissaprroval leaving the freckled girl as she slaps herself against your sensitive clit making your body jerk before she speaks to you dismissively “wait.”

she teases your entrance for a moment with as the corners of her mouth curve at the pathetic sounds that left your lips. you had her head spinning as she softly slipped herself into you, the sound of your breath hitching as you stretched around her had her feral.

her smirk fading ever slightly as a weak sigh leaves you followed by a breathy “fuuuck” that she echoes back as she dips her head and roots herself deeper inside you, the air leaving her lungs as you leak around her “oh my god” and the tears welled in your eyes at the stretch “mhm, it’s like that” and you can hear the pride in her voice as her palm glides up your thigh and makes home at the stretch marks that adorned your hips as she stilled inside you, making you want her throbbing dick to never leave you, she attached her lips to yours, sliding her tongue into your mouth, the taste of your pussy now on your lips.

your hands exploring every muscle of her back as you pant into the kiss, only pulling away for a second “Ellie please” you heaved out “pleasee” she already knew what you needed but you were so fucking cute when you beg “what do you need mama?”

you can barely keep your heavy eyelids open “you” the sigh leaves your mouth.

her hand grips your jaw and she kisses you once more “okay, baby” she eases out of your warmth slowly, your chest gently raising and falling your eye’s softening as you sink your teeth into your lip, fuck if you could see yourself right now, all doe eyed and entirely hers.

her dainty fingers wrap around your ankle as she lifts them to her shoulders and slides softly back into you, the pulsing vein that ran up the side of her, throbbing inside you made your head spin as she fucked herself in and out of you.

her breath speeding up as her pace did the same “fuck fuck, f-uhh” her eyes on your breasts as they bounce with each slam of her hips against you “fuckk..” her eyes rolling back at the sound of the wet squelches and moans from you that filled the room, the drink in your system making you reach your peak so much quicker as she made home inside you, molded herself into you as she pounded into your womb mercilessly, her palm pressing onto the bulge of where she was inside you in your lower belly “aww” she makes a pout at your ruined figure that fell apart for her all to soon “how cute.” she cooed as she gave a peck to you ankle and gave a bruising grip to your thighs as she used them selfishly to steady herself.

her pale musclular thighs slapping against the back of yours with each perfectly timed thrust of her lips as she babbled out to herself, ego drunk on you “y-yeah, yeah this is mine” a stinging slap landing to your hip “fucking mine” another hand print left on your skin for you to proudly show off “my pretty pussy” her palm connects harshly to your throbbing clit, sending shots of pleasure through your body as you closed tighter around her, your thighs aching.

ellie leans forward, practically folding you in half with the back of your knees on her shoulders and her eyes never leaving yours “such a pretty pussy” she promises as she swipes her tongue across her thumb, her heavy pace never faultering as she brings it down to your clit, drawing soft circles onto the pulsing bud “mommy…” her arms shaking at the feel of you squeezing onto her “I know..” she kisses at the valley between your breasts “I know”

your back arching of the bed, your pretty eyes rolling to the back of your head and your lips forming the perfect oh shape as pathetic moans leftyour chest had ellie fucking reciting the alphabet in her head as she struggled to not cum at the sight of the work of art she made out of you.

her thumb moving faster “cmon, fuck” she spoke to herself “cm-fuuuck” she fell limp against you at the feel of you clenching onto her and cumming on her length, soaking her as her hips bucked weakly finally letting herself cum with a sweet and almost pathetic grunt of your name as she laid against your chest “oh my god” was spoken onto your flesh with a drool from her mouth while the feeling of her filling you up felt like a kiss from the inside, nothing could ever compare.

you both lay there, recovering from eachother until ellie, that laid face first between your breast started giggling to herself, still buried inches deep inside your throbbing cunt, yet erupting in laughter against your skin, you knew she was up to something “what?” you roll your eyes “nothing…” she pauses for a second at your silence “you’re such a whore” you fake a gasp and give a tug to her hair to which she fakes a pornographic a moan “oh my god Ellie!”

she bursts into another fit of laughter “stop being a whore els” you roll your eyes and she flicks the flesh where her handprint was left “shush, you love it” she says, admiring the bruised skin sweetly.

@williamellieslilho @yourelliewillms @bready101 @moonalumi @heygrimace @pascals-doll @infiniteinquiries @aouiaa

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x dom reader #ellie x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x sub reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you

[storiesforallfandoms]

moved on ~ thomas shelby;peaky blinders

word count: 2213

request?: no

description: in which his ex comes back after two years, and his fiancée is worried about what this means for their engagement

pairing: thomas shelby x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Tommy didn't expect to fall in love after Grace had ran off. He had loved her more than he loved anyone, and he thought he'd never find that love again.

Until he met (Y/N).

They met at an event Tommy had to attend. He only went to make an appearance, and was looking for a way to leave when he spotted her. Right away, he was taken by her. He spent the rest of the night talking to her, and even drove her home at the end of the night.

Within two months, Tommy had proposed. He couldn't risk losing this one. She made him feel even better than he had with Grace. (Y/N) was the one, he was sure of it. So, he asked her to marry him, and he was beyond ecstatic when she said yes.

Everything was perfect, until the day Tommy took (Y/N) to the races.

It was a scorching hot day in Birmingham. Tommy and his brothers were set to go to the races, and obviously he had asked (Y/N) to come with them. She was wearing a summer dress that Tommy had bought for her and, as he had predicted, she looked breathtaking in it. He couldn't keep his eyes - or his hands - off of her.

"You're going to cause a scandal," (Y/N) teased as Tommy's hand made its way under her dress again.

"No one's looking, love," Tommy assured her, moving her hair from her shoulder so he could start kissing her neck.

(Y/N) fought the pleasure his actions were giving her to push him away. As good as Tommy made her feel, she was no going to let him have his way with her in public.

"Can you get me something to drink?" she asked. "I'm parched, and quite hot."

"Of course, darling."

Tommy gave her a quick peck before going to find a concessions stand.

He was waiting for their drinks when a familiar voice said, "Tommy?"

He thought he imagined it, but he realized that couldn't be it. He hadn't even thought of her in years. There's no way he would suddenly be imagining her again. So, he allowed himself to turn, and there she was.

Grace.

Just as beautiful as the day she left him.

"I didn't expect to see you here," she said.

"I didn't expect to see you anywhere," Tommy responded. "I thought you fell off the face of the Earth. Since I never heard from you and all."

A flash of guilt showed on Grace's face. It made Tommy happy to know she felt guilty for what she did.

"I can't apologize enough - "

"No, you can't," Tommy said. He was finally given his drinks. He took them and began to walk away from her.

"Wait!" She took hold of his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Please, let me explain. I'll tell you everything."

Tommy looked down at her hand. It was hard to miss the diamond ring on her ring finger.

"Will your husband be okay with that?"

She seemed to bristle a little at the comment, but she managed to keep her composure. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind me catching up with an old friend."

Tommy held his tongue from correcting her. He wanted to know the truth about what happened with Grace. Even if that's all their meeting was - which it would be - then it could at least be some closure for him. He agreed to Grace's proposal, but only under the condition that she meet him at the Garrison. He needed to have some sort of control in this situation.

It was only as Tommy was walking back to his seat that he realized he hadn't told Grace he was engaged. In fact, he had completely forgotten about (Y/N) for those few moments.

She was still in her seat wen he got back, eagerly watching the current race. The moment he laid his eyes on her, Tommy felt his heart swell. He realized that he felt nothing but contempt for Grace. He wasn't eager for their meeting at the Garrison as he would've been nearly two years ago. It was nothing more than a business meeting to him now, because his heart belonged to one woman.

(Y/N) looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. "You've been gone for some time. Did you get lost?"

He smiled back. Instead of responding, he sat with her and kissed her cheek. (Y/N) giggled and leaned into him.

Tommy thought about telling (Y/N) about Grace, but he wasn't sure how to. He didn't want her to get upset over Grace's appearance, and their agreement of a private meeting, but he knew there was no way to bring it up without (Y/N) getting upset. He couldn't blame her either. If the roles were reversed and one of (Y/N)'s exes were trying to reconnect with her...well, that person wouldn't be around much longer.

(Y/N) looked up at Tommy and nudged him. "Are you alright? You look deep in thought."

"I saw Grace," he blurted.

"Grace? Like...the Grace?" Tommy nodded. "When? Just then?" He nodded again. "Oh, wow. What did she say?"

"She asked if we could meet up to talk about her leaving."

"What did you say?"

"I told her we could meet at the Garrison."

(Y/N) nodded, her face unreadable. "When?"

"Tomorrow night."

"And...did you tell her about me?"

Tommy was silent. He couldn't lie to her, and his silence was enough of an answer. She turned away from him to focus on the race again. She felt so many emotions that she couldn't even place them. She knew Tommy loved her, and she knew he was loyal, but she was also aware of Tommy and Grace's past. He told her everything about their relationship when they first got together. So she knew how intense Tommy and Grace's relationship had been, and how broken he was when she left.

Tommy reached over and put his hand on her leg. "Love, look at me."

(Y/N) reluctantly turned to face her fiance.

"I will call the meeting off if it makes you uncomfortable," he said. "Or you can come and be there when it happens."

She shook her head. "No, I think that will likely make it more awkward."

Tommy cupped her face. "Do you trust me?"

"My mind is screaming that I shouldn't, but my heart says I do." She chuckled and added, "That sounded so cheesy."

"It did," Tommy agreed. He pulled her towards him to place a kiss on her lips. "I promise this is nothing more than a meeting to get some closure. Any love I felt for Grace disappeared when she did. You are the only woman who has my heart, and that will never change."

(Y/N) smiled and leaned into Tommy. "I believe you. Just...tell her about me the moment she shows up, okay?"

"I will, love."

~~~~~~

The next night, (Y/N) was pacing her and Tommy's shared living room. Tommy had left for his meeting with Grace moments ago. He had kissed her and told her he wouldn't be long, and she had smiled at him but didn't speak. Once he was gone, she had stood and immediately began to walk around the house. Her nerves were making it impossible to be still.

She told Tommy she had trusted him, and that wasn't a lie, but she couldn't help the gnawing feeling of unease and jealousy. It was a cliche to say, but it was Grace she didn't trust. She didn't know Grace besides what Tommy had told her about their previous relationship, and the fact that Grace was now married. But would that be enough to stop Grace from wanting to make a move on Tommy? Would Tommy's engagement be enough?

Her mind would not rest. She was starting to regret telling Tommy she wasn't going to accompany him to the meeting. Even if it would've been awkward, at least her mind would've been at ease.

Before she could register what she was doing, (Y/N) was pulling on a coat and heading out the door. She started walking towards the Garrison. She knew it was a bad idea to just drop in on Tommy and Grace's meeting, but the not knowing was killing her. She couldn't just stay home and wait for Tommy to come back.

It was a slow night at the pub. There were a few men sat along the bar, and three men sat around one table. Harry was wiping down some glassware at the bar when (Y/N) walked in. He regarded her and nodded towards the private room that the Shelby's frequented, signaling that Tommy was still in there. (Y/N) walked towards the room, intending to knock before entering, until she heard a woman's voice on the other side.

"I never meant to hurt you, Tommy. I know I betrayed you, and nothing can ever change that. But you have to know that I did love you - that I do love you. I left Birmingham because I knew it would be better for you if I did, but I never stopped thinking about you."

"What about your husband?" came Tommy's voice.

"I love him, but I'm not in love with him. He has been a marriage of convenience more than anything. He was there, and he had a good job and a good life, and I hadn't hurt him."

There was silence. (Y/N) could only imagine what was happening on the other side of the door. She hadn't missed Grace admitting to still being in love with Tommy, and even if it seemed Tommy had. Or maybe was just ignoring the fact that she said it.

Or maybe he was happy to hear it?

"I've missed you so much, Tommy," came Grace's voice, soft. "I've thought about you every day since I left. I've been hoping for a day where I could see you again, just one more time, and as for you to give me another chance."

(Y/N) could feel her heart breaking. Tears were welling up in her eyes as she backed away from the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Harry looking at her. She wouldn't look directly at him, but she could make out the look of pity on his face. He must've known what was happening in that room, or had some idea anyways.

She was about to leave when she heard Tommy say, "Any chances you had left when you did, Grace."

(Y/N)'s ears perked back up as she moved back towards the door.

"I loved you once, Grace. If you had come back, even after admitting to me your betrayal, I might've taken you back. But I've moved on now. I have found a woman that I love more than anything in this world, and who loves me just as much. There is nothing and no one in this world who could convince me to leave (Y/N), not even you."

There was a silence on the other side. It wasn't until the knob started to turn on the door that (Y/N) realized Grace was leaving. She quickly stumbled away from the door just before it swung open and hit her. She was stood frozen as she looked at Grace - beautiful, blonde, elegant Grace, stood in a crimson red dress and her hair curled. Grace seemed just as shocked to see someone standing on the other side, but swiftly moved around (Y/N) to exit the pub as quickly as possible.

Tommy was sat at the table with a lit cigarette to his mouth. He didn't look surprised to see (Y/N). He took a long drag and blew it out of the corner of his mouth, before motioning with his fingers for (Y/N) to join him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to - "

"How much of it did you hear?" he asked.

"Well, I arrived sometime before her love confession."

"Which one?"

(Y/N) felt an angry heat rise in her face. "There were multiple?"

"There was two. Three, if you count her asking for another chance at the end there."

"Well, in that case I arrived before the second one."

Tommy reached out for his fiancée, gently touching her arm and pulling her to sit next to him.

"So you heard what I said to her, then?" he asked. (Y/N) nodded. "And you know I meant every word."

"Of course I do," she said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just shown up like this. I just couldn't settle down at home while I waited for you. I needed to be here."

"I did offer for you to sit in on the meeting." His tone was light and there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. That's how (Y/N) knew he wasn't being serious, or that he wasn't upset about her appearance.

"I know. I should've taken you up on that," she said. She leaned close to Tommy and kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too, darling. Don't ever think that I don't."

"I won't. I promise."

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #one shot #imagine

[calaisreno]

His Move

1557 Words / Prompt: Manipulate

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Mary was an assassin, the business of her past never quite behind her. She’d run away once, and Sherlock had insisted they go after her. At that point, John was willing to let her go. They were never going to have the future he’d imagined when he bought her that ring. 

She was already dying when he arrived at the aquarium, and said the things you would expect a loving wife to say. You were my whole world. 

He felt a dull sense of relief, and hated himself for it. The problems of your future are my privilege. 

A future, cut short. And still, her problems would haunt him.

When Sherlock reached out his hand towards John, his eyes wide, John saw the horror-stricken expression on his face.. 

You were my whole world, he thought. 

Her body was lifted, put on a stretcher, and carried out. John followed.

Sherlock texts him: I’m so sorry. SH

John doesn’t reply.

Please talk to me, John. SH

He feeds Rosie, gives her a bath, puts her to bed. She fusses; she’s old enough to sense something is wrong. Now she has only her father to keep her world stable.

John, please. SH

He plans the funeral; there’s no one else. Mary has no family, only a few friends. It’s his responsibility. This keeps him busy, gives him space to work out what comes next.

Sherlock is actually sorry. This John doesn’t doubt. He’s not a sociopath, regardless of what he says.

John’s words at the aquarium were spoken in anger; he doesn’t blame Sherlock for Mary’s death. John is the one who brought her into their orbit. He can’t change that, but sometimes he thinks about what would have happened if Sherlock had returned six months sooner. Of course he would have been angry, and would have expressed how he felt about watching his best friend die, being abandoned for two years. Six months earlier, maybe he wouldn’t have paid attention to the new nurse, the one who kept flirting with him. 

He has no doubt that he would have come back to Baker Street if Sherlock wanted him. The compromise, as always, would have been on John’s part. Sherlock is never going to change. He will always treat John as a convenience, a habit that doesn’t require thought. 

Sherlock is rarely solicitous, never bestows compliments, only flatters someone if he’s being manipulative. The speech he gave at the wedding nearly knocked John over. Maybe Sherlock was only trying to do what was expected of him, but it was unexpectedly touching. 

Sitting there, hearing the two people who love you most, he’d had this thought: I would have waited for you, if I’d known. 

In his own way, Sherlock does love John. He also knows how to manipulate John, to get him to do what he wants. To keep John in the dark when he doesn’t trust him. 

Loving Sherlock has always meant giving something up. It means following him into danger. John isn’t sure he can afford that any longer, not with a child to care for. 

He has to be sure.

It doesn’t surprise John to see Sherlock at the funeral. Mrs Hudson sits with him, and Lestrade joins them. Molly slides into the pew, whispers something to Greg. It’s a protective entourage; they all know what John said.

Harry is home, watching Rosie. John sits alone, in the front row. 

Sherlock has texted him daily, and John hasn’t replied. That’s why Sherlock is here. He wants John to accept his apology, for everything to be as it was before he ruined it all by dying. Not that Sherlock understands it this way; he doesn’t think that dying ruined things. He’s convinced that he had to do it, that John would have died if he hadn’t. In his mind, there was no alternative. 

Maybe he’s right, but for two years, John carried the weight of grief. That’s just feelings, sentiment; Sherlock wan’t dead; he was saving John, saving the world, winning the game. He left John behind, let him grieve, because that was the only way to solve what happened at Barts that day. 

Sherlock will still leave John behind at crime scenes, run heedlessly into danger, and probably get wounded at some point. He will question John’s intelligence, talk to John when he’s miles away, text him impatiently while he’s treating patients. He will dismiss John’s concerns as frivolous, insist that sentiment makes him weak. He will break John’s heart again and again. That’s just the reality.

And John could break his heart, too. He has a temper, and letting go of anger is hard. Will that anger still be simmering in a year, two years? It’s hard for him to forgive; even in death, he hasn’t really forgiven Mary. 

Can he say he forgives Sherlock and really mean it?  

John prayed for a miracle, and hit the ghost when he returned. Sherlock didn’t hit back; he made a joke. He missed the point. 

But he pulled John out of a bonfire. His look of panic is something John won’t ever forget.  

He tricked John into forgiving him—but has also tried to be worthy of that forgiveness. 

He has expressed his love for John in front of a hundred people. 

These are not the acts of a heartless man.

Sherlock needs him. Maybe two years away was as hard for him as it was for John. 

Does John need him?

He imagines a life without Sherlock. He weighs it against a life without Mary. One is possible, one is past.

His wife was a master manipulator. He’s only beginning to realise the extent of that. He’d had doubts, but couldn’t put words to them until he was in Leinster Gardens, hearing her admit that she’d shot Sherlock, that she would do anything to keep John in the dark about who she really was. 

The woman he fell in love with saved him from despair.

The woman he’d married was a facade. 

He never forgave the woman who shot Sherlock. 

The woman he went back to gave him his daughter. 

So. Mary’s gone, and what he feels about that is a confusing mixture of guilt and sorrow—and relief. At some point, he loved her. Or the idea of her. He chose her. 

She made choices as well. She chose death, rather than allowing Sherlock to take that bullet. When John came back to her, she understood that he would never completely forgive her, that he was doing it for Rosie. She’d chosen to save Sherlock, to die rather than live with John’s grief over losing him a second time.

Sherlock didn’t kill her. She chose to die.

But when he stood at her grave, he didn’t ask her not to be dead.

What he wishes now is that they’d never met, that he could rewind time and make a different choice. That she was still alive, a stranger living somewhere else. 

But then he wouldn’t have Rosie. He loves his daughter completely, protectively, without rhyme or reason. He wants the best life for her, the carefree childhood he never had. And he imagines her growing up without a mother—with a father who has chosen to be alone. 

He pictures her, a child with pigtails and a stubborn streak. A teenager able to go toe-to-toe with her father and still see reason, take a small step back when she’s wrong. A young woman with curly blond hair and a teasing smile. She leaves for uni, and he’s alone again. He grows old, and remembers.

Does he need Sherlock? 

Absolutely, desperately. Like air. 

Can he trust Sherlock? 

Probably not. And he won’t change him.

He misses Sherlock. Whatever they have been to one another, his heart wants him. 

Is it worth the risk?

He’s standing in the church reception hall, drinking a cup of terrible coffee. Sherlock is across the room, looking at him. His expression is sorrowful, not the fake sorrow he can put on during a case, pretending he cares. His hands are stuffed in his coat pockets and he’s slouching against the wall, watching John.

Coworkers from the surgery express their condolences. Mrs Hudson hugs him tearfully. Lestrade tells him they need to get together over a pint. He accepts their sympathy, makes small talk because that’s what people do. All the while, he feels Sherlock’s eyes like a magnet, pulling on him. 

As the hall begins to empty out, he can resist the pull no longer. Sherlock looks up, surprised, as John walks towards him. His pale eyes fill with tears. 

John has given up so much already. He doesn’t blame anyone but himself. Maybe he’ll never fully trust Sherlock, but he’s already forgiven him. 

Setting aside all his objections, laying down his anger and his regret, he surrenders.

When he pulls Sherlock into the hug he’s always wanted, this time Sherlock hugs back. John makes deductions. He can smell a cigarette, maybe two (nervous). He feels his ribs, still too prominent (unhappy). He’s trembling with the emotion he hates (love). The world may have lost a fine actor when Sherlock Holmes became a consulting detective, but this is not acting.

“Please come home,” Sherlock whispers.

John smiles into his shoulder, his own tears beginning. “Oh God, yes.”

#mayprompts2024

[alekthefox]

Fluff argenti x reader where the reader and him are dating and loves when argenti picks her up and spins her around plz?

Absolutely adorable! Your wish is my command.

Author's note after writing: I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS, AHHHHH, MY HEEEEART!!!! I cannot breathe and yet I'm the one who wrote it. ;u;

Tags: fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, existent relationship, sweet love

Pairing: Argenti/fem reader, 3rd person

It had been five months of blissful romance that the two had shared. She remembers the first day they had met dearly. Argenti bowed deeply with one hand behind him, the other gently pulling hers in to kiss the knuckles.

"By Idrila, you are a beauty like no other. Truly, you amaze me. Allow me to introduce myself, if I may. My name is Argenti, I belong to the Knights of Beauty. May this rose convey my heartfelt salutations."

The hand from behind his back appeared into view as he rose to his height, it held a single, thornless, red rose. The stem was cut at an angle, every petal perfectly in place.

Now, five months into this beautiful love, the honeymoon phase is yet to end. At every month's anniversary he writes her a poem, every time the roses in the vase wither he replaces them with fresh ones; always with a note, and every night he'd take off his armour to hold her the entire night. His arms were heavy from the strife he engages in, yet he is always as gentle as a petal swirling in the wind only to fall upon her figure.

Her dearest moments would be whenever he'd return home after work and head to wherever she is, setting aside his weapon, and pressing her into his arms. To Argenti she weighs nothing at all, akin to a feather of the most beautiful bird. And that is how he holds her, as she is precious to him, and her smile is worth more than anything else in existence. And every time he'd return he'd press her into his chest, strong arms clad in armour picking her up with ease, and spinning her around.

"Look at how beautiful you make the world, my love, my dearest. When you smile the world seems oh-so colorful. If I were to see a triple rainbow it would not compare to you."

She laughs as she wraps her arms around him and looks into his eyes, the world around them blurring through the motion. As if nothing else was worth seeing aside from each other. He'd gently put her down but not let go, bending to bury his head in her neck, soft cheek against her skin. His silky red hair would tickle her. But she doesn't mind in the slightest.

After an eternity in each others arms, which felt like less than a second, he'd take off his armour and get comfortable. The two would eat, talk about their day, consider adopting some sweet, small creature to keep her company in his absence. When evening would come he'd softly brush her hair, looking at her in the mirror, placing a kiss on her head. Then she would return the favour, brush his hair; and because he always allows it, braid it as well.

The next day he would be free, only to spend more time with her. To embrace her, speak sweetly with her, spin her around every chance he gets, play with her hair, treat her with sweet treats, kiss her forehead, anything to see those eyes of hers light up and those lips form a smile. And even when she is too tired for anything else, he looks at her like a unique masterpiece, a painting made by Idrila herself, and just sighs with hearts in his eyes, completely content.

The day after that he clutches a small box in his pocket he recently bought, after a long time of careful choosing. As he exits the door with a kiss to her cheek and closes the door... he pulls out the box and examines the ring inside.

"Soon, my dearest. You make me the happiest. I hope I can forever have that smile in my life."

#hsr argenti #argenti x reader #argenti x you #fem reader #x reader #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #im crying #send asks #fan fiction #honkai star rail

[whumpninja]

This is part one of a two-shot and that’s basically all I know about it. I went into a plot-fueled haze and when I came back to reality I had written this. Enjoy.

Featuring: historical whump, whumper turned whumpee (kind of), held at swordpoint, betrayal, mark of shame, under arrest, pillory, blood, hatred, mentions of execution, stoning, spitting- this isn’t a fun dark comedy piece this is just angst and violence. You know, other kinds of fun!

——————————————————————————

Traitor, Part 1

All he could think was How could this happen to me?

The governor’s son had always seemed like such a wonderful thing to be. Mateo Rivera had never wanted for anything. The entire town respected and feared his family. He had been raised like a prince, with the world at his fingertips.

And it had all fallen down under his feet.

Across the square, several villagers held his parents under arrest. Governor Rivera’s fine scarlet coat, the one he was so proud of, the first thing he had bought when he had become governor, was ruined, the hem ripped and one sleeve nearly torn off. Mateo’s mother Antonia clung to her husband’s arm, her silk skirts dirty and bedraggled.

And Mateo lay in the dust at a stranger’s feet, with the tip of a sword at his throat.

His own sword had landed only a few inches away, but he didn’t make a move for it. He stared up at the man with the sword, the midday sun making him squint.

Mateo remembered him, if only distantly. He didn’t remember the stranger’s name, but he remembered the vicious duel years ago between Governor Rivera and the stranger’s father- a swordfight that the governor had won.

The tables had turned now. Mateo had given it his all, tried his hardest to defeat the newcomer, and he had failed. He had lost.

The townspeople not holding his parents captive stood in a loose, broken ring around the town square, dressed in their festival clothes and what little jewelry they still owned. It had been a festival shortly before, a feast to celebrate Mateo’s birthday. He still wore the beautiful medallion he’d been presented with. He’d danced with Fidelia, and announced his intention to marry her. Everything had been perfect.

And then this stranger had entered, without telling anyone his name, and had stolen her away. Not stolen her- she’d gone willingly, rejecting Mateo for the arms of this unfamiliar man. He’d been angry, and had knocked the stranger’s hat off, revealing his face.

The stranger was the boy his father had exiled to the desert, grown into a man and back from the dead to reclaim the town. He’d fought Governor Rivera first. Mateo’s father was a skilled swordsman, but he was getting old, and he’d been knocked to the ground and divested of his sword. The village women had turned on his mother, dragging both his parents to the edge of the town square and binding them.

So Mateo had challenged the stranger himself. He’d been sure it would go his way- he’d defeat his enemy, free his parents, reclaim Fidelia, and all would go on as it had before.

Oh, how wrong he was.

The stranger stood tall, his hand curled around the hilt of the sword at Mateo’s neck- a sword that had belonged to the man’s father. Mateo didn’t know how he had gotten it. All he knew was that it was poised to cut his throat if he moved. So he didn’t move.

Instead, he looked at the stranger. The man’s jaw was set in determination, the outline of his face hard. But his eyes were uncertain, and Mateo realized: he doesn’t know what to do now.

“Tomás!” A woman’s voice- Fidelia’s. She rushed to them, and the stranger- Mateo remembered his name now, it was Tomás Avila- used his free hand to pull her close against his chest. She clung to him, looking down at Mateo with an expression he couldn’t read. He never had been able to tell what she was thinking.

Tomás turned his head and kissed her, still keeping Mateo at swordpoint. “It’s over,” he announced loudly enough for the villagers to hear. “You’ve lost, Rivera.”

Mateo wasn’t sure whether that was meant for his father or for himself.

The townspeople seemed to pause a moment to let the news sink in. Then they burst into wild cheering, applause- from his spot on the ground Mateo even saw the younger of the de Vea sisters jumping up and down. He had known, of course, that the Riveras were unpopular in the village. But no one had ever been strong enough to challenge them; certainly not to overthrow them. Now, with the governor and his wife under arrest and his son at swordpoint in the dust, they were free to show Mateo’s family just how hated they were. He heard his mother snarl “Peasants!” and saw one of the village women laugh in her face. It made his heart hurt to see the proud Lady Antonia so disrespected.

“What now, Tomás?” one of the townspeople asked. “What do we do with these traitors?”

“You’re the hero of this village,” called another. “Whatever you think is best, we’ll do.”

Governor Rivera scoffed at that. “Some hero. What is he? An ignorant farm boy who happens to know some tricks with a blade.”

“That blade is at your fool son’s throat, governor,” snapped the village priest. “I’d watch my mouth, if I were you.”

“We have rope handy,” suggested one of the farmers. “We could have all three strung up before sundown.”

Mateo saw his mother go pale, though she didn’t let her face change.

Tomás still looked unsure of himself, but at that remark he shook his head. “I am not Governor Rivera,” he said firmly. “There will be justice on the governor and his wife, but not without a fair trial. Is that agreeable to you?”

There was some muttering, but one of the villagers- speaking for them all- said, “We trust you, Tomás”, and the rest murmured their assent.

Tomás nodded. “Good. Then you can take former Governor Rivera and his wife to-“

“Wait a minute!” broke in a storekeeper Mateo had never much liked. “I can wait to watch the ex-governor pay his dues, but the boy tried to steal away Fidelia. He’s drawn your blood, Tomás.” Mateo hadn’t even realized, but there was a gash in Tomás’ arm, leaking darker red onto his crimson sleeve. Fidelia gasped and tore a handkerchief from her dress to hold against the wound. “What about him?” the storekeep continued.

“Yes!” cried one of the women. “Our beautiful Fidelia was nearly forced to be the bride of the governor’s brat. Surely that deserves punishment here and now.”

Mateo resisted the urge to inform the populace that, at least before Tomás had shown his face, Fidelia had seemed quite happy to marry him. He would have been the governor when his father stepped down, and she the governor’s wife. She hadn’t seemed opposed to the idea.

Fidelia stood on her toes to whisper in Tomás’ ear. The young man nodded, and let her go. She stood only a short distance away, her hands planted on her hips and her eyes on her lover.

Tomás’ hand shifted on the sword. His voice changed, became louder, more confident. “Townspeople! The Rivera family has failed you! They had a chance to be good, selfless rulers. Instead they overtaxed you, stole anything of value you possessed, and nearly drove this place into a famine. Were it not for Fidelia’s brave journey into the desert to bring me my father’s sword, this village might have been choked to death in the grip of the Rivera family. They are traitors! And while the former governor and his wife will face their own judgment for their crimes, their son will be marked as a traitor here and now.”

He looked down at Mateo, and now his eyes were as hard as the lines of his face. “Will you struggle?” Tomás asked, half a question and half a warning.

Mateo met his gaze. Held it. “No.”

And he didn’t. He held still as Tomás sliced off his jacket, his shirt, and his new medallion with a single slash of his sword. He held still, gritting his teeth against the pain, as Tomás used the tip of the blade to cut Mateo’s chest- two long, deliberate lines, one horizontal, one vertical, both stinging like fire and drawn deep enough that he knew they would scar. He held still until Tomás bent down, grabbed his arm, and pulled him up. With a flick of Tomás’ wrist, he sent Mateo stumbling out into the circle of people. Mateo’s other hand came up of its own accord to press over the wounds; blood seeped out between his fingertips. It did little good. He knew the entire village could see the bloody T carved into his chest- T for traitor.

Tomás may as well have used a branding iron. Mateo’s face burned with shame. He didn’t dare turn his head to look at his parents; he already knew their reactions. Governor Rivera would have a face wreathed in fury, but for the first time helpless to act on it, unable to lay a finger on the man who had dared humiliate his son. His mother would allow only a scrap of concern to show in the furrow of her brow and the worry in her eyes, but inwardly she would be screaming his name, longing to rush to his side and wrap him in her arms and kiss the injury all better like she had when he was a child.

There would be no making this better. It would scar, just as it was meant to. He would wear a traitor’s mark for the rest of his life.

And from the looks on the faces of the townspeople, that might not be very long.

“What about Fidelia’s honor?” cried another of the women. How many friends did she have? “This snake would have married her!”

They made him sound like some sort of monster, rather than the wealthy and reasonably handsome son of the governor.

Well.

Wealthy, no longer- most of his family’s money had come from the taxes on the people. They would likely take all that back and more.

Handsome, not anymore- not with the mark of a traitor carved into his chest. At the very least it hadn’t been cut into his face, but the symbol was still going to be difficult to conceal. And everyone would know what it meant with one look.

Son of the governor- Governor Rivera no longer was the governor, deposed by a farm boy with a sword.

Mateo had nothing left.

“Tomás spilled the traitor’s blood as payment for the cut on his arm,” called another farmer. “Fidelia, you were the one humiliated by the proposal. The punishment should be decided by you.”

Fidelia looked startled. “Me?”

“Who has the governor and his family hurt the most, if not you and Tomás?” That was the first woman again, the wife of one of the farmers. She spoke almost gently, but her eyes glittered with the chance at revenge. Mateo didn’t remember what for. His father’s fist had come down heavy on all the villagers at one time or another.

Fidelia wet her lips. Mateo knew that gesture. She did it when she was nervous. “I- I trust Tomás’ judgment,” she said, blushing scarlet.

Tomás nodded, his face still set hard like a wooden carving. “The governor and his wife,” he said, and Mateo saw his eyes go straight to Governor Rivera. “Take them to the town jail. If there’s anyone locked up there, release them.”

Neither Governor Rivera or Lady Antonia protested when the villagers, some shoving and some dragging, forced them in the direction of the marketplace. Tomás took Mateo’s other arm and pinned both behind his back, keeping a firm grip but not twisting them or pushing him. He just guided his prisoner in the direction everyone else had gone. Mateo, for his part, kept his head down. His gaze kept straying to the cuts on his chest. They had stopped bleeding so heavily, although sluggish trickles of red still stained his skin.

I must be in some state of shock. He was too well-brought-up to rage and scream at the villagers for what they had stood by and watched be done to him. But he would have expected to feel more anger about it. All he felt was a numb resignation. The balance of power had shifted, him and his family no longer on the highest scale. Anger would be useless. All he could do was wait for whatever else they chose to do to him.

The marketplace was only a short distance from the town square. Beside the church stood the jail- a squat, square clay building with a heavy wooden door. Mateo caught a glimpse of his parents as several villagers roughly escorted them inside. His father had a reddening ring around his eye, and blood trickled from his nose into his greying mustache. His silver-streaked brown hair had fallen out of its careful knot, spilling over the shoulders of his ruined coat.

His mother had fared little better. Her hair had nearly been pulled out of its neat twist at the back of her head. There was a mark on her face that suggested one of the village women had slapped her. Mateo didn’t know which one had dared strike the Lady Antonia, but the very thought of it made him want to scream. A tear glistened on his mother’s cheek, and the way she caught his eyes made him realize that it was for him, not for herself. And then she was pushed through the low doorway and he couldn’t see her anymore.

Distantly Mateo realized that he wasn’t being shoved forward to join his parents in one of the dim, bare cells. It was not a relief. All it did was fill him with apprehension toward whatever was coming next.

Fidelia tossed a glance and a nod to Tomás, hopping in a swirl of skirts onto the raised wooden platform between the jail and the church. Tomás’ grip tightened, just a bit, on Mateo’s wrists, and he gave him a little shove forward.

Mateo didn’t put the pieces together until they were at the edge of the stairs at the side of the platform. Governor Rivera had never been terribly fond of using the jail. He had always preferred the punishments he handed down to the villagers be public. The wooden platform had been deliberately placed in the marketplace- the busiest part of the town. There had been a gallows on top of it once, way back in the town’s history, but at some point it had fallen down and no one had bothered to put it back up.

That suited the governor just fine, because the pillory still stood.

Mateo realized what was happening before they reached the top of the platform. Tomás kept careful hold of his wrists as if he thought Mateo would try to run. I am a Rivera. We do not run from difficult situations. The words in his head sounded scornful, proud. But he couldn’t deny that his hands were shaking, just a little.

If Tomás noticed the trembling, he said nothing about it, and some traitorous little part of Mateo was almost grateful for that. Tomás seemed as though all he wanted was to finish with Mateo so he could return to Fidelia’s side, and the festival the villagers would doubtlessly turn into a celebration of their hero’s return. A stab of betrayal hit Mateo’s heart at that thought, like his new traitor’s mark but on the inside of his skin. This was supposed to be my birthday festival, not a feast for some outlaw.

But what could he do about it? He was helpless, both his parents and himself trapped in the town that had turned on them in moments. His parents, behind bars in the village jail. Himself…

Tomás pushed him again, not hard, just enough to get him moving. It was a few steps to the pillory, but it somehow felt like miles. Fidelia had already unlatched the hinged boards. Mateo hated that she was going to watch. He loved her, even if she preferred her ridiculous outlaw over him. He didn’t want her to see him like this.

The villagers stood below, already shouting and jeering. They’d never done that when it was one of their own. His father had even had to post guards to make sure no one released whatever unfortunate farmer had crossed the governor’s path. Mateo doubted there would be anyone trying to set him free.

They’d reached the thing now. He couldn’t read the look on Fidelia’s face, and he couldn’t see Tomás’ behind him, but the firm grip on his wrists and Fidelia’s cold eyes told him everything he needed to know. He stared into those eyes. Had he really once thought them kind?

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Rivera,” came Tomás’ low warning, and Mateo realized that he had stiffened his spine against what was coming. He’d done it unconsciously, out of pure instinct, and it took tremendous effort to make his bones unlock from their rigid position. He allowed Tomás to bend him forward, fitting his neck into the place carved out for it.

Tomás kept a hand on his back, letting go of first one wrist and then the other, as if he thought Mateo would try to break loose even now. Mateo breathed deeply and tried to focus on something, anything, other than what was happening.

Tomás stepped away, one hand still on Mateo’s back, and it was Fidelia who closed the other board down on him and latched it into place. The rough wood was uncomfortable, but not terribly so- what was uncomfortable was the stooped position he was trapped in. He could either look at the wooden planks beneath his feet, or raise his eyes to look at the crowd below.

Judging from the laughter and shouted insults he heard, Mateo was better off looking at the boards. His cheeks burned hot with shame and anger- but there was also an odd feeling of resignation.

“Mateo,” said Fidelia, and he turned as best he could to look at her, hoping that perhaps she’d changed her mind-

She spat in his face.

Mateo stood stock-still, staring at her in disbelief. For a moment Fidelia looked stricken, as if she herself couldn’t believe what she’d just done. Then she tossed her head proudly and leapt off the platform in a storm of red skirts. Tomás caught her in his arms and met her with a kiss, and the villagers cheered them riotously as he carried her off.

Traitor, Mateo thought viciously. Traitors all. But thinking that only reminded him of the mark on his chest.

He shifted his feet, wincing as the motion scraped his neck against the rough wood. This would not be a pleasant experience. But it could have been worse. He’d heard that it had once been considered entertainment to pelt a criminal standing in the pillory with rotten fruit and vegetables. But the famine in the village had ensured that the townsfolk wouldn’t want to waste their precious few crops on him. He had escaped that aspect of the punishment at the very least.

Mateo lifted his eyes as far as he could without also lifting his head, and saw one of the farmers bend down to the dust. When the man straightened up again, his hand was curled around a rock.

The sun was hammering down hard, but Mateo felt himself go cold regardless.

The stone struck his cheek, and it was sharp enough to cut. Mateo flinched, and the unyielding boards wrenched his neck cruelly in consequence. The farmer was laughing; Mateo could hear him. He dropped his eyes again, not wanting to see if someone else was picking up another stone.

He kept his gaze on the boards at his feet, and watched the blood from the wounds on his face and chest fall, drop by scarlet drop, onto the sun-bleached wood.

All he could think was How could this happen to me?

#whump #whumper turned whumpee #historical whump #held at swordpoint #whump writing #my writing #jack be whumpy

[theboywithburninghands]

Morning guys, or afternoon/evening depending on where you are. So, I know I said the @rottentricks story was only gonna be three chapters, but chapter two has gotten so big I wouldn’t feel right slapping a giant wall of text onto your timeline. So, it’s being split into two parts. Here you are, hope you like it!

T/W: Blood, discussions of suicide/murder, fantasy racism

Animals Ch. 2: Sheep, Part 1

What do you get for pretending the danger’s not real?

—

Pomni fell out of bed with a jolt at the sound of her telephone ringing. She hurriedly detangled her quilt from around her foot as the phone rang again, followed by the caller ID loudly and robotically blurting out:

“CALL FROM- PRIVATE CALLER.”

“Gee, thanks…” Pomni mumbled. She had no idea why her parents got her a phone with caller ID. It almost never worked unless the person had a private cell, and the only people she knew who could afford one of those were her parents… Hm, she might have just answered her own question.

She grabbed the phone off the charging dock and hit talk before it could ring again.

“Hello…?” she said sleepily.

“Hey Pomni, it’s Ragatha! Did I wake you up?”

Pomni cleared her throat. She checked her watch. 12:47 PM… sweet Jesus. How embarrassing.

“Uh- n-no, you didn’t… what’s up? You okay?��

“Oh yeah, I’m fine, hun, but have you seen what’s going on downtown?” Ragatha asked, her tone hushed. A faint susurrus could be heard in the background of the phone call.

“Uh… no. I’ve been at my apartment since I got steak from Kingston’s Charcuterie yesterday morning… Working on stuff for school, you know? What’s happening?”

“You were at Kingston’s yesterday…? You know Jax then?” Ragatha’s tone turned much more serious.

“Uh, yeah..?”

“Honey, he was arrested.”

Pomni covered up the mouthpiece of the phone and loudly swore. She uncovered it and kept talking.

“Are you serious..? Why?” she asked. Her concern was quite genuine, but her surprise was not. She knew why.

“They’re saying that it looks like someone killed Kaufmo with a knife and hung him up a tree to make it look like a suicide… oh god, it’s horrible. But they found a knife from Jax’s store in the woods nearby, and they said that was good enough evidence to arrest him. They took him in last night around 6 PM…”

Pomni sighed. She knew it would happen… Those stupid cops already had him pegged for the murderer. There was some evidence sure, but-

Well… maybe she was wrong. Maybe they did find some evidence incriminating him that came up, fingerprints (like she demanded they look for), a piece of purple fur or something… Maybe she really was just letting her biases get in the way.

“…all over Main Street. …Pomni, baby, you there?”

Pomni blinked back into her apartment, and realized that Ragatha had been talking the entire time she’d been arguing with herself.

“Uh- s-sorry you broke up for a minute, what did you say?”

“I said that someone must have said something, because there’s a huge protest going on outside the station, saying it was an unfair arrest! There’s out-of-towners, some locals, they’re all over Main Street! I think I see a news van out there..! You can probably hear ‘em right now!”

“Oh god, is that what that background noise is? Holy shit. Are… you okay, Ragatha?” Pomni asked.

“Me? I’m a little shaken up. Jax has been providing supplies for the café for years! He gives us our steak, our burgers, our bacon, our sausages… and he’s my friend. He can be a bit rude and he’s scary looking, but… I don’t think he’s capable of…killing people.” Ragatha whispered the last two words.

“I don’t think he is either,” Pomni said. “And-And I only met him for a few minutes yesterday. Sure, it’s suspicious about the knife, but he sells knives! Someone could have used one they already bought or stole one. And-And I was there when those cops showed up, and I saw how they acted! They looked ready to shoot him and one of them said something really nasty…”

Ragatha sighed. “You wanna know the sad part, honey? That doesn’t surprise me even a little. Autumnvale is a nice place, but some people around here like things in their place, and if you fall outta that place… It can be hard for you. But I hope you don’t think our whole town is like that.”

“Oh- No- No, not at all! I love the friends I’ve made here. You’ve been amazing…” Pomni said. She meant it. Ragatha had basically taken on the role of her big sister here.

“Aww… That’s so sweet of you, Pomni. You’ve got enough to eat, right? I’m sorry I closed the café yesterday…”

“No, Ragatha, don’t worry. I was fine, and you needed the day off. But I can come see you now if you want? I haven’t had breakfast yet and I ate my whole steak yesterday…”

She could practically feel Ragatha’s luminous smile through the phone. “Well sure, hun, come and visit! I’ll make you something special. Just be careful, okay? These protesters are making me nervous…”

“I will. See you in a bit, okay?” Pomni said with a smile.

“Bye.~” Ragatha said, and there was a click at the other end.

Pomni hopped off her bed and got herself dressed. Fresh underwear, then shirt, then pants, then fleece, then puffer, then purse. She looked out her window, saw it was snowing, and added a pair of black gloves and a white scarf, topped with her gray university beanie. It didn’t match her outfit, but maybe with this on, the protestors wouldn’t yell at her. She was on their side, after all, she thought something was fishy about the whole thing too…

She stepped outside, looking around at the falling snow. Big, fat flakes that looked like wisps of cotton. She held out a black-gloved hand and caught one. The flake remained on her palm for a moment before the heat from her hand caused the fluff to recede into water on her glove. She smiled.

She put her glove back on the strap of her purse, then turned to look at the stairs. They were dusted with snow, and no doubt slippery.

She huffed and gripped the railing tight. One step at a time, never let go. Repeat for all thirteen steps.

An excruciating minute later and she was at the bottom, panting and sending up plumes of steam. She appreciated being on the second floor to avoid the rats and bugs, but having to climb up and especially down these icy stairs was brutal… One of these days she was going to slip and fall and it was gonna suck.

“You okay, Miss?”

Pomni looked up at the unfamiliar voice. An abstract person sat atop a horse. They had a triangular head, bright pink, with no visible mouth and a shiny metal hook for a left hand. They wore a heavy poncho, colored dark green with yellow diamonds, and a brown cowboy hat. They sat atop a horse with an unusual coat, a nearly perfect split between black and white stripes and plain white fur.

“Um… hi. Yeah, I’m fine, just… uh… stairs.” Pomni pointed to the offending structure, still out of breath.

“Mmm. You headed into town?” the person on the horse asked.

“Yeah. You heading there too? Have you heard about the protests..?” Pomni asked.

“Yeah. I’m close friends with the guy that got arrested. I’m gonna see if I can post his bail.” they said.

Pomni perked up a bit. “Oh, great! Uh, I’m a friend of his as well! I saw the way the cops treated him…”

“Really? Tell me about it, I’ll give you a lift into town.”

The person on the horse turned their mount around the opposite direction, offering their non-hook hand. Pomni took it, carefully sliding her feet into the stirrups and climbing up onto the horse, sitting herself a bit clumsily behind the rider. The horse shook their head and snorted in annoyance.

“I’m Zooble. This is ZigZag.”

Zooble patted the side of their horse, gently tugging on their reins so they turned back towards town, then flicked the reins with a soft “giddyup.” ZigZag chuffed and trotted forward, leaving horseshoe prints in the new fallen snow.

“Hi, I’m Pomni. I’m here on an art scholarship.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot Mayor Mason started doing that. You’re here a full year, then?” Zooble asked without turning around.

“Yeah. Until I get my Master’s in May… I really love it here though… Well I love most of here. Winter has been pretty rough.” Pomni admitted.

Zooble chuckled. “Yeah, we have harsh winters. Our nights are especially bad. You’ve been staying inside after dark, right?”

“Mhm, always. If I die, my parents will have wasted money. Worse still, the college will have to liquidate my loans.” Pomni replied, putting her gloves to her cheeks in mock horror.

Zooble chuckled once again. “I’m not surprised you fit in here, you came pre-fit with small-town snark.”

“Thanks. Oh, so, yeah, I saw Jax yesterday. The cops were already gung-ho about arresting him… You’re his friend, right? You don't think he would do something like that, right…?”

Zooble was silent for a moment. “To someone like Kaufmo? No.”

“Wait- what do you mean?” Pomni asked, leaning a ways off of ZigZag to get a better look at the rider’s face.

“What I mean is that… He would never hurt anyone that didn’t really have it coming. I don’t know if you know, but the other kids made his life hell growing up. They called him a freak and said his parents abandoned him ‘cause he was so ugly and a half-breed. But… he fought back one day. It was bad. And ever since then, he hasn’t taken shit from anybody. I bet the only reason he even went with the cops is because if he put out one of their eyes or snapped one of their arms, he’d get his brains blown out or thrown away to rot. He’s got a temper, and he’s capable of a lot when you push the right buttons… but no. He wouldn’t hurt Kaufmo. Or me, or Gangle, or Rags.”

“…Or me?” Pomni asked.

“…I dunno. Are you a good person?” Zooble retorted.

“I’d like to think so…” Pomni replied meekly. “He seems to like me okay. He let me have a steak yesterday.”

“Really? He almost never gives anyone free food. He mumbles and grumbles about just giving me enough beef chuck to make stew.”

“Is that right..?” Pomni felt her face warm up again.

As they approached the town, they faintly heard the chanting of a good-sized crowd.

“AUTUMNVALE ISN’T FAIR! RACIST PEOPLE EVERYWHERE! AUTUMNVALE ISN’T FAIR! RACIST PEOPLE EVERYWHERE!”

Zooble tugged gently on ZigZag’s reins, slowing her to a stop. ZigZag nickered uneasily at the commotion up ahead, Zooble putting a hand out to pet her neck.

“Yeah, I know it’s loud, princess. Don’t worry, we’ll tie you off right here, okay?” they soothed.

Zooble then hopped down off the horse, landing firmly on both feet. They looked up at Pomni.

“Need help, city girl?”

Pomni bristled a tiny bit at that comment. Sure, it wasn’t a lie or anything, but it always made her feel… inexperienced. Sheltered.

“I got it,” Pomni replied. She looked down at the snowy ground. It was a drop for sure, especially for someone her size. Well, what did she have to lose other than the use of her ankles?

She slid off the horse, hitting the snow with both feet a bit too hard and fast, buckling and being forced to catch herself with her hands. She stood up immediately and dusted the snow off her gloves.

“You go on ahead. I gotta tie her off and put on her blanket.” Zooble said.

“Okay, thanks for the ride… Do you really think you can cover Jax’s bail?” Pomni asked, looking down at the snow.

Zooble sighed. Their breath steamed.

“Hope so. I’m just one person, and the bail for suspicion of murder is gonna be a small fortune. But I got a lot in savings. You didn’t hear it from me though.”

“I… don’t have much money, but I can try and help.” Pomni said. She desperately needed that money for groceries and art supplies, truth be told… She wasn’t sure why she even offered.

“Nah. Thanks, but nah.” Zooble said, tying ZigZag’s halter to a wooden perimeter fence nearby. “Do have a quick question, though.”

“Yeah?”

Zooble opened one of the saddle bags and looked at Pomni. Even though they had no visible mouth, looking at their eyes made it clear that they were smiling.

“You said you only met Jax yesterday, and you’re dead-set on helping him out. Why’s that?” Zooble asked, removing a green and yellow horse blanket.

“Because…” Pomni swallowed and felt her already rosy cheeks darken. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Yup, that is true…” Zooble replied expectantly, shaking out the blanket.

“Y-Yeah. I’m… I’ll see you up ahead. Thanks again.”

“Be seeing you.” Zooble said, a laugh on the edge of their voice.

Pomni put her hands in her jacket pockets and crunched her way towards town. The roar of emotions in her belly distracted her long enough for her to reach the hubbub on Main Street.

A crowd of around four dozen people had gathered outside the Autumnvale police station, some familiar faces from around town, some people Pomni didn’t recognize that must have come from neighboring towns, maybe even her city. A few people held signs written on bright yellow or green poster paper, a few having opted for foam boards instead. They read things such as:

“DIFFERENT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE”

“YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN BLACK AND BLUE”

“AUTUMN-FAIL”

“WHERE’S THE EVIDENCE?”

“JUSTICE FOR JAX!”

An older chickadee birdman in an orangish-brown leather jacket and black toque stood at the head of the crowd. Pomni recognized him as the town doctor. She’d seen him a few times. He seemed to be the leader of the group, but that could be because he was the only one that had a bullhorn. He turned it on and spoke into it.

“We aren’t going to lay down and let the police continue to treat crossbreeds like second-class citizens! Not here, not in any other city!”

He then led the crowd in another chant of “AUTUMNVALE ISN’T FAIR, RACIST PEOPLE EVERYWHERE!”

Nearby, a news anchor and her cameraman interviewed a chess piece shaped fellow in a red flannel jacket and a fishing hat, who wrung his hands nervously.

“And you raised him, Mr. Kingston?” the anchor asked into her mic before offering it to the man.

“Y-Yes my wife and I raised Jax, the mayor found him abandoned in a cabin in the woods and brought him to us when he was just bite-sized.”

Pomni tried to walk a little closer inconspicuously.

“And you believe he’s innocent?” The anchor asked.

“Of course. Jax is a good boy. People around town have treated him so rotten.” Mr. Kingston said adamantly.

“You think that there’s bias in the arrest?” The reporter asked.

“Definitely, definitely. Some people around here still call him a cannibal, can you believe that? Just because he’s part wolf and needs meat in his diet, they call him a cannibal.” Mr. Kingston said, wounded.

“And what do you have to say about the knife that was found near the crime scene, Mr. Kingston?” The anchor asked.

“I say ‘malarkey.’ Jax sells those knives in his shop, anyone could have taken one and put it there. They probably picked him on purpose!”

Pomni listened a while longer before looking out amongst the crowd again. A few of the same cops from the crime scene the previous day stood in front of the station behind sawhorses, along with some new ones. Autumnvale must have brought in other precincts to keep the situation under control. One particular officer, a human with a gold badge and in a wide brimmed white cowboy hat and aviator shades, stood along with them, hands on his hips. Probably the sheriff.

The protest leader spoke into his bullhorn again.

“The detectives who made the arrest are nowhere to be seen! Isn’t that intriguing, everyone?”

The crowd booed.

“It seems that they feel perfectly comfortable bullying a man when they outnumber him, but once we show up, they go missing! Isn’t that intriguing?!”

Another round of booing and hissing from the crowd, one person shouting “Fuckin’ cowards!”

“Yes, these enforcers of justice seem to only bother enforcing said justice if it’s against people they don’t like!”

He continued on as Pomni slipped behind the crowd. The café was located just beyond the protest. No doubt, they were all going to head there after the demonstrations finished. Although from the amount of fervor in the crowd, it didn’t seem to be losing momentum anytime soon.

As she crossed to the other side of the road to the café, she spotted Trevor leaning against the post office next door. He locked eyes with her, a cigarette smoldering in his teeth, and grinned spitefully. Pomni hurried into the café.

“Hey! Good afternoon hun!” Ragatha waved. Pomni couldn’t help but smile and wave back. That sunny smile could cure sickness if someone could figure out how to bottle it.

“Good afternoon to you, miss.” another voice chimed in. A woman composed of a white mask and red ribbons sat at the counter, a black beret on her head and a cup of coffee in her hands. Er… ribbons.

“Come and sit, Pomni! You’ve met Gangle, right?” Ragatha poured another cup of coffee for the art student.

She stomped the snow off of her boots before going to sit at the counter, taking off her puffer jacket and hanging it over the back of her usual chair before climbing up into it.

“Um, I don’t think in person, but I saw your production of A Streetcar Named Desire. You were an amazing Stella!” Pomni said.

Gangle gave a worried smile. “Oh no, you weren’t there the night I forgot my lines, were you?”

“I don’t think so, I don’t remember any mistakes. Um, the guy who played Stanley was amazing too, so intense… Thank you.” Pomni accepted her mug from Ragatha.

“Ahh, yeah, Gummigoo. You know he’s actually a complete sweetheart in real life? We had to practice the scene where his character hits mine over and over with the stunt coordinator since he didn’t even want to pretend to hit me.”

Pomni added sugar and cream to her coffee, two blue packets and one little plastic cup, and stirred it.

“So how are you holding up this morning, baby? You said you saw those detectives get onto Jax, right?” Ragatha asked, leaning both her hands on the counter.

“Oh. Yeah, I did. I hid for a bit because I didn’t want to get in trouble just for being there… but then one of them said something really horrible and I yelled at them.” Pomni sipped her coffee. Bitter stuff, but it had a pleasant chocolatey taste on the edge of the flavor.

“What did they say? They didn’t call him a… you know…” Gangle whispered.

“No. They weren’t that blatant, but one guy, I think his name was Wexley, basically said Jax lived by himself ‘cause he’s a crossbreed. Said it was ‘understandable.’”

Ragatha made a disgusted noise as she went over to the griddle, pouring batter onto it. “I don’t understand how people that pea-brained are allowed to carry badges. Well it’s no wonder they’re not showing their faces right now. Probably got sent back to the big city with their tails between their legs. Buncha bullies…”

“Yeah… I’ve been meaning to ask, how did they find out so quickly..? The-The demonstrators, I mean. I thought Jax only got arrested last night…” Pomni inquired.

“It was probably Dr. Wren that found out,” Gangle replied, pointing out the window. Her ribbon pointed towards the older bird fellow with the megaphone. “Our town doctor. He’s always been about issues like this. You know, institutional racism and stuff? My guess is he jumped at the chance to get a crowd together. And look at the turnout!”

Pomni hummed. “Well, I’m glad he did.”

“Hm, I dunno,” Ragatha replied from over at the griddle. “Personally, I wish he’d have just waited a day or two so we could at least lay Kaufmo to rest. So many people here in town are still processing the fact that he might have been murdered, and he’s out there hollering his lungs out, disturbing everyone’s grieving.”

“B-But what about Jax? Doesn’t he deserve justice?” Pomni replied.

“Well of course he does, baby, but if he’s really done nothing wrong, he’ll be out of the jailhouse in 72 hours..” Ragatha flipped a pancake.

“He’ll- huh?” Pomni tilted her head.

“She’s right, I almost forgot…” Gangle chimed in. “This town has a Speedy Trial law. Since we’re such a small community, there’s not many trials. So there’s a 72-hour limit in place for someone being held in custody without substantial evidence… If Jax really didn’t do anything, and I don’t think he did, they’ll have to let him go in a couple days.

“And I’ll betcha the only people that are itching to find evidence on him are those detectives, and who knows where they went? With that protest out there, all our cops are busy keeping that under control. No time to be sniffing around for clues.” Ragatha added, testing the firmness of her pancakes with her spatula.

Pomni felt herself relax. That was… good news.. There was a pretty decent chance that they’d let Jax go tonight. Maybe she’d wait for him if the crowd had died down by then…

“W-Wait, so that means that the knife..?”

“Unless it had his DNA or prints on it, it’s not good enough. It’s like people have been saying, anyone could have bought it and hid it out there.” Gangle explained.

Ragatha gave a surprised smile over her shoulder at Gangle as she stacked the pancakes on a plate. “Well, look at you, Nancy Drew! Who taught you all this detective stuff?”

Gangle gained red blush marks under her eyes and looked down at the counter. “Oh, you know… I do a lot of research for my roles. We did an Agatha Christie play once…”

Ragatha brought over a short stack of pancakes, dusted with powdered sugar and topped with whipped cream and some fresh strawberry slices. She set the plate down in front of Pomni, along with a boat of maple syrup.

“Eat it while it’s warm, honey.” Ragatha cooed, pecking the art student on the cheek.

“Thank you Ragatha…” Pomni sighed. How this absolute peach of a woman remained single was a mystery to her. Wasn’t any of her business, anyway. She dug into the food. It was delicious, fluffy and moist cake mixed in with rich, hand churned cream and the bright flavor of strawberry. She could eat this every day for the rest of her life and never get tired of it.

The door to the café swung open, and a person in a yellow and green poncho stepped inside, stomping off their boots chasing snowflakes from their hat.

“Zooble! I was wondering when you’d show up! You want the regular… Zooble?”

Ragatha’s sunny voice darkened with worry as she saw a stain of red on their hand, which they were currently wiping off on their poncho.

“Zooble, are you bleeding?!” Pomni cried out.

“No, it’s not my blood. I punched Trevor in the nose. Might’ve busted it.” Zooble’s voice sounded hollow and distant. Their hand reasonably clean, they sank down into a chair by the window, resting their arms on top of the table.

“Trevor? The wolf?” Pomni asked. No, Trevor the marmoset, stupid.

“Yeah. He laughed at me when the sheriff turned me away. ‘Tough luck, pizza-head.’ I heard a crunch.” Zooble looked at their hand and clenched it a few times. “Anyway. Couldn’t post his bail. The Sheriff told me it was 500 thousand. ‘Possible homicide.’ I don’t even have half of that.”

“Oh, Zooble…” Ragatha opened the counter hatch and went around to see them. “Honey, I’m so sorry… But, we were just talking about the speedy trial law. If all they have is a knife that came from his store-”

“Horseshit…” Zooble mumbled.

“If there’s no DNA on the knife, then-”

“HORSESHIT!” Zooble bellowed, banging on the table with their fist. The sound rattled the glass salt and pepper shakers. Everyone jumped.

“Zooble, I’m sorry-” Ragatha began, but Zooble cut her off.

“You know how the system is! It doesn’t matter how many angry people wave signs around out there, or if the doctor gives some nice speeches on a megaphone! Jax is a crossbreed, and they’re gonna find some ‘new evidence’ or dig up some old law that makes it so he gets put away for good! Don’t you get it?! Those sheep big city detectives they hired took one look at Jax and saw he was a freak, so he must’ve done it! And our redneck-ass, no-brain FUCK of a sheriff agrees with them! They’ve been waiting to do this- they…”

Tears beaded in Zooble’s eyes, and they collapsed into their chair, shoulders shaking.

“They’ve been waiting…” they moaned.

For a while, there were no sounds other than the faint din outside and Zooble’s soft sobbing. Pomni couldn’t blame them… if her best friend was being put away on flimsy evidence based on prejudice alone, she’d have cried like a baby. Hell, she felt a little bit like crying now…

She pushed her half-eaten plate of food away and shyly walked over to Zooble. The cowboy looked at her through red, puffy eyes.

“What?” they spat.

“…I… I want to help.” Pomni said.

“I just told you there’s nothing we can do, kid… unless your mommy and daddy have $500,000 sitting around the house, this is the end of the line…” Zooble wiped their eyes on the non-bloodied parts of their poncho.

“Don’t say that. We can look for more evidence.”

“How? They’ve got the crime scene cordoned off… we’ll get in huge trouble if we go there…” Gangle said.

“What about Jax’s sales log? That’s like a list of suspects!” Pomni proposed.

“Cops already took it. I saw ‘em carrying it out of the shop when they hauled him away in cuffs…”

“Dammit…” Pomni chewed on her thumbnail. “Okay. Okay, what about this? Does anyone know where Kaufmo lived?”

“He lived not far from here,” Ragatha said. “His house was over near Gangle’s theater.”

“Do you think we could get a look inside it?”

“What? Pomni, what for?” Gangle asked.

“I dunno… anything! Clues about who might have it out for him!”

“Look, city girl. I appreciate your enthusiasm… I do. But the cops-” Zooble began.

“Are all busy, dealing with that.” Pomni pointed out the window at the crowd. “All we have to do is see if those three asshole detectives aren’t sniffing around the place, and we can look inside, right?”

“Pomni…”

“Look, Zooble’s right. Unless a miracle happens, the system is gonna do what it can to get Jax put behind bars for good. We need to at least try. Right?”

“I… But… Pomni, what about you? Aren’t you worried about losing your scholarship?” Gangle asked.

“Yeah. But… I think I… I want to make a difference in this town more than I want to just use it to further myself. You guys… this place has done so much for me, and I… I want to give something back.”

Zooble used a napkin to wipe their eyes. “It helps she also has a crush on Jax.”

Pomni turned bright red. “Hey! That’s not-”

“Aw, Pomni… that’s so romantic. A lover, wrongly imprisoned... It’s like a Carolinian play!” Gangle said, looping her ribbons together as though she was clasping her hands.

“Wh- He’s not my lover! We only met for like five minutes!” Pomni grabbed her beanie and tugged it down over her face.

“And yet you’re willing to risk your higher education to save him. Yup, you’ve totally got it bad, honey.” Ragatha added, crossing her arms and smiling.

“Sh-Shut uuuuuuuup!” Pomni whined.

“Well… I wouldn’t be much of a best friend if I didn’t do something incredibly stupid for him. Alright, let’s go, kid.” Zooble got to their feet, drying their eyes one more time.

“I’m twenty-fiiiiiiive!”

“You’re twenty-five? Jeez, you coulda fooled me. What are you, four foot two?”

“Four foot NINE!” Pomni snapped, shuffling out the door as Zooble held it open for her. Zooble said their goodbyes to Ragatha and Gangle before following after Pomni.

“Do you think they’ll find anything?” Gangle asked.

“Honey, I hope so. I… doubt it. But I hope so.” Ragatha replied.

#the amazing digital circus #funnybunny #jax x pomni #tadc jax #tadc pomni #oh no cringe #tadc #tadc ragatha #murder mystery au #tadc zooble #tadc gangle #tadc kaufmo #tadc kinger #tw sui talk

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 172

warnings: nsfw hmh masterlist

In exactly nine days, you and John will be married for two years (together for three) and Ronan will be one! It’s all coming up so fast, and you’re so excited for her first birthday! She’s gotten so big and has learned so much this past year, and motherhood has been a joy to experience. Parenthood has been a freaking rollercoaster of emotions, but it’s been a blast with John by your side. He’s such a great dad, and Ronan just adores him. It never ceases to amaze you how effortlessly John slipped into his new role as a dad and how naturally it all came to him--he was made for this!

Since the first week of September is a little busy with John’s birthday, Ronan’s birthday, and your anniversary, you’ve been nervous as to how you’re going to take the time to celebrate everything. Thankfully, you and John came up with a plan.

Today is the 28th of August, and you’ll be leaving tomorrow morning for the Bahamas to celebrate John’s birthday and your anniversary. You’ll be coming home on the 4th so that you’re home in time for Ronan’s birthday. You spent the last two weeks going over every single detail, and it’ll all be perfect. You’ve bought all the decorations for it, and everything is going to be just fine!

“Swimsuits!” you gasp as you sit on the floor in front of the dresser, “It’s on a beach, so we need swimsuits.”

“Did I tell you it was on a beach?”

You look over your shoulder at him packing his bag and squint your eyes, “It’s the Bahamas. Of course it’s on the beach.”

John laughs, “I forgot I told you that.”

It was the best option to go somewhere that wasn’t out of your timezone so when Ronan is ready for bed, you and John can FaceTime and see her. Also, if something happened, the trip home would be a quick one. Plus the weather is going to get cool soon, so it’s nice that it’ll be warm where you’re going.

“Seven days in the Bahamas with my peach,” John says as he leans down to kiss the top of your head, “Can’t wait.”

“We decided no gifts, right?” you ask, and John nods his head. You hold his gaze and squint again, and he starts to laugh. You groan, “John! No gifts!”

John puts his hands up in defense, “I just saw something that you’d like.”

“Second anniversary is cotton,” you hold his gaze, “It’s not lingerie, is it?”

“Well, the traditional gift is cotton. Modern is china--I didn’t buy you plates.” he says, and you let out a small laugh, “But no, it’s not lingerie.”

You hum as you look at him, “Okay, well, don’t get too excited about your gift. I promise it’s not groundbreaking.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” John says, leaning down to kiss you again. “I’m gonna get Ronan.”

You nod your head and put some swimsuits aside, then you get up and rush to join John as he gets Ronan up from her nap.

__

Ronan somehow always knows when she’s not going to see you for a day or two, because she clings like crazy. She’s currently clinging to your legs as you walk around and pack her bag. When John comes into the room, she runs over to cling to him instead.

“Are you excited to hang out with Finny for a few days?” John asks, and Ronan nods her head, “Then you’re gonna go stay with Grandma and Grandpa.”

You look over at them sitting on the rocking chair, “They have so much stuff planned for you, bug. You’re going to have so much fun!”

Ronan scoots out of John’s lap and babbles as she runs over to you, then she clings to your legs. You look at John and laugh, and he gets off the chair and gets some toys for her to play with so you can finish getting her bag packed. John’s phone rings in his pocket a few moments later, and he presses it to his ear.

“Hello? Hi. Um, yes, it always is. It’s heated.” he says, and you look over at him, “You have a key, don’t you? Yeah, we don’t mind. Of course I don’t. Because you never believe me when I say it’s okay!”

You furrow your brow and sit down on your knees in front of him as he laughs, “Who is that?”

“Your sister,” he says, and you laugh. “She wants to know if she can go swimming while we’re gone.”

“Of course you can!” you say when John puts his phone on speaker, “You know where everything is, you're welcome to come over whenever.”

Tess laughs, “Hey, don’t tempt me, I might just stay there while you’re gone.”

“Me too!” Jimmy yells from the back. “You two excited to go?”

“Yeah,” John smiles as he looks at you, “We’re getting Ro’s bag packed right now.”

You hug Ronan tight when she sits in your lap, “She’s super excited to stay at the Hendricks’ house! She’s very excited to see her silly Uncle Jimmy.”

Ronan loves Jimmy. Ronan loves everyone, but lately she is just in love with Jimmy. Daddy is and always will be number one, so John definitely never has to worry. But Jimmy is her new favorite right now, probably because he’s so wild and does anything to get a laugh from her--even if it’s at his own expense. One day, he nearly knocked himself out doing something stupid to get a big laugh from Ro and Finn. Tess called John and had him rush over since she thought Jimmy had a concussion. He had a minor one but he was fine, and he even got Tess loving on him hardcore the rest of the night.

“We’re excited to have her. Finn and I already got some treats and games to play,” Tess says, and Ronan looks up at you. “You’ll be back on the fourth?”

“Yup. We already got everything done for her birthday party, I just need you to grab her cake on the fourth--two cakes, actually. One is her smash cake. I don’t think we’ll be back in time.” you say, and Ronan looks up at you again at the mention of cake. You press a kiss to the top of her head and hug her, “But everything else is taken care of. We’ll decorate that night and in the morning, then it’s Ro’s first birthday!”

Ronan claps her hands and walks over to climb onto John, and he hands his phone to you before he lays down on his stomach and lets her crawl onto his back.

“We just have to finish packing, then we’ll drop her off in the morning.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Tess says, and you lay down next to John. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You prop your head up and look at John, “Yeah, see you tomorrow. Bye.”

John smiles as he holds your gaze, then he reaches over and tucks your hair behind your ear, “I love you.”

“I love you,” you smile, then you let out a grunt when Ronan jumps onto your back. “She sure is a solid baby.”

“Yeah, she loves food.”

You roll over to your back and laugh when she sits on your stomach, “We love a chunky babe though.”

“We do,” John smiles, then he scratches his fingers over Ronan’s tummy as she giggles, drool running down her chin.

Ronan crawls off of you and toddles over to her toys, then she starts pulling things out to play with. John groans as he gets up, then he reaches down for your hands to help you up, kissing your cheek once you regain your footing. He smooths your hair back and scratches the back of your head for a moment, and he smiles when you hum.

“I’m going to finish packing my bag.” he says, and you smile at him, “Not long now, Mrs. Wick, and you’re all mine.”

“Well,” you look at him and smile, “I always am.”

John gives you a little wink, and your stomach flutters as you giggle like a schoolgirl.

__

Dropping off Ronan went better than you expected. You expected tears and screaming, but there were none. From Ronan anyway. You sobbed for the ten minutes to the airport. John held your hand and told you that everything would be okay. You knew that, of course, but it still sucks to leave her. He was a little sad too. You just miss her when you’re gone. You’ll see her every night when you FaceTime, and you’ll be back soon, but she’s your little baby. Ronan, on the other hand, probably won’t give two shits that you and John are gone. She has Grandma and Grandpa to hang out with, plus Aunt Tess, Uncle Jimmy, and her besties, Finn, Bleu and Sadie. She’s going to have a blast.

John pulled into the small private airport shortly after dropping Ronan off, and you’d stopped crying by then. He helped the pilot and the co-pilot pack the bags, then he made sure you were feeling okay before taking off. You’ve flown several times now, but your anxiety hasn’t gone away. John does his best to try and take your mind off of it, and for the most part, he does a really good job.

Now John’s currently reading a book while you sit there looking out the window. He hasn’t let go of your thigh since takeoff. In fact, you’re both still buckled in.

“Do you ever worry that we’re leaving Ronan too much?”

From the corner of your eye, you can see John look over at you, even though you’re looking out the window of the plane. He squeezes your hand a little and leans over to kiss your shoulder, and you look at him.

“Last time we were away from her was back in May when we went to Paris. We were away from her for a few days, then she was back with us.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

John shakes his head, “No, I don’t. I think it’s very healthy that we have time for ourselves. Ronan is still pretty young, and even if she were five years old, I still think it would be good for us to get away to have some alone time. She’ll appreciate that when she’s older. Hopefully, she’ll see how we treat one another and know what is healthy in a relationship, and that’s what she’ll seek.”

“So, you don’t think she’ll be upset with me?”

“Why would she be upset with you?”

You start to laugh, “Because I’m taking her daddy away from her.”

“Baby,” he turns to you and reaches for both of your hands, “She loves you just as much as she loves me.”

“I just don’t think that’s true,” you say, laughing quietly. “I mean, okay, yeah, it probably is. I just don’t want her to be like ‘you and dad always left me when I was a baby.’”

John furrows his brow as he laughs, “She must have incredible memory then, because I’m pretty sure she won’t remember that we left her with family for a week while we celebrated our anniversary.”

“Stop making sense, Jonathan.”

“No, look at me,” he says, and you look at him, “I guarantee that Ronan will appreciate this when she’s older. We’re not just setting an example for when it comes to being a decent human being, we’re setting an example of what she should expect when it comes to her relationships. She deserves someone who will be there for her. She deserves someone who will love her even more after having a child--if that’s what she wants. She deserves someone who will love and respect her, someone who will listen to her and protect her. She deserves everything that you deserve, that everyone deserves.”

You let out a small chuckle, “There you go with your Wick Wisdom. Your Wicks-dom.”

“You hang out with Jimmy too much.” he says, laughing when you looked so pleased with yourself.

“You really are so smart though because all of that made sense.” you say, then you playfully glare at him, “It’s annoying.”

John tucks your hair behind your ear as he smiles, “A healthy household begins with a healthy marriage, and I’ll be damned if I ever fuck this up.”

“You do a very good job at loving us, babe.”

“That’s all I could ever ask for.” he whispers as he leans over to kiss your temple, “As long as my girls are happy and know that they’re loved immensely by me, that’s all I need.”

“You are loved immensely by your girls,” you lean over and rest your head on his shoulder as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “By the way, you give me everything that I deserve. I hope I’m able to give you what you deserve.”

John rests his cheek on the top of your head, “Of course you do. We were made for each other, remember? We’re soulmates.”

You laugh quietly as you close your eyes, “You’re so corny, but I believe you.”

__

**

Our first day here, we really didn’t do much. We arrived at the house and just hung out on the beach, watching the sunset and drinking some wine. It was nice, and I think Y/N enjoyed it as well. I’ve never seen her laughing and smiling so much. It’s really nice to see her at ease and not having anything to worry about.

I look over at her as we walk down the beach now, and she smiles when she looks up at me. She leans up and kisses me a few times, then she hugs my bicep in her arms.

“It’s so beautiful here,” she says, walking along the shore. The bottom of her dress is wet as a result of the water, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “And warm.”

“Yeah, it’s nice.” I say, and she kicks a little water at me.

I laugh as she splashes water at me, then she takes off running down the beach. She holds her dress up and steps further into the water, raising her eyebrows and challenging me. She doesn’t think I’ll get in the water. I step forward into the water, and she screams with laughter as she runs away from me, and I chase after her. She heads deeper into the water and throws her arms around my neck when I get to her, and we kiss as the water crashes around us.

“God, I love you.” I whisper, smoothing her hair away from her face, “You’ve made me the happiest man on this planet.”

“Really?”

I nod, “Yeah. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Y/N wraps her arms around my waist and smiles, then she watches as I reach down and undo the button on her dress as the waves continue to crash around us, knocking her into me a little. She bites her lip and looks up at me as I pull her dress open a little, and I start to smile when I see the light blue lace of her bra.

“Is this new?” I ask, and she nods in response. “And you’ve been hiding it from me all this time?”

“No, I was just waiting for you to discover it. I knew you’d find it by the end of the night.”

I laugh, “And if I hadn’t?”

“Well, I’d give you a few hints.” she says, and I raise my brows and smile as I lean down to kiss her. “If you take me back to the house right now, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, wherever you want.”

There’s a table in the kitchen that I want to take her on so badly, so I lift her up and carry her over my shoulder as she laughs.

__

We’ve been walking around all day and I’m so ready to just go back to the house and eat. I’m ready to put my feet up on the back porch and watch the sunset with my peach, but she has other plans. She’s been pulling me in every direction to all of these shops, and we’ve spent so much money on just things for our family and Ronan. I don’t mind, of course, but I’m tired and ready to go home. My social battery--she taught me that--is running out, fast. I know hers has to be too.

Holding tight to my hand, Y/N happily walks down the street before she points to the woman sitting outside of a store with a table in front of her. I’ll admit that the moons, crystals, and lights around her do make her very intriguing.

“It’s a palm reader or psychic, whatever you wanna call them,” she says as she looks up at me, “We should go.”

“I don’t believe in that stuff, peach.”

She scoffs, “Okay? Maybe I do! Who cares? Let’s just go see what she says. If she’s way off, we’ll just laugh about it when we get home.”

I look down at her and start to smile when she pouts, “Fine.”

Giddily skipping over to the woman, Y/N gives her a small wave before she plops down in the chair across the table from her. I stand behind her and look around at the other stores in hopes that I can find one and get away from this.

I don’t really believe in this stuff, plus they tend to prey on tourists and take their money. They’ll tell them very vague things and give people false hope. I just don’t want Y/N to be upset or anything.

I zone out as the woman and her start to talk, so I’m not sure what she’s telling her, but she pulls out a stack of cards with designs on them. I look over and watch as she sets them down one by one and tells us what they mean--something about how we’ve found success or something. I will admit that we have found a lot of success in our lives and marriage.

“This card here…” she points at it and nods, “Hmm, looks like there might be a new addition to the family sometime soon.”

Y/N starts to laugh as she looks at me, “Interesting.”

“That doesn’t mean you, necessarily. It could be a sibling. And it doesn’t always mean a baby, could be a new pet.” She says, and Y/N looks at me again. Oh, wow. How perfectly vague. I just nod my head and look away since I’m not going to indulge this woman and her vague predictions. “Your husband isn’t so sure about me.”

“I can see that,” Y/N says as she looks at me, smiling widely. She’s completely entertained by this.

The woman laughs, “He’s very protective of you. The energy he’s giving off is very strong. It’s very intimidating. His guard is completely up. Something tells me it always is when he’s with you. You two mesh very well. You are very…what’s the word? Synchronized. When you move, he moves. Where you look, he looks. He’s always one step ahead of you--not in a bad way, no, but in that protective way. He always wants to protect you and put your needs first. I don’t say this to just anyone, but you two are completely perfect for each other. True soulmates. Your paths were always meant to cross. You had some struggles in the beginning, but because you two loved each other so hard, you worked through them. You two were always meant to be together.”

She’s right about that. I’ll let her have that one.

“You worry about that a lot, don’t you?” she asks Y/N, who hesitantly nods. “Don’t worry about if he loves you or not--he absolutely does, sweetheart. You’re his true love. There is no one else in this world he is meant to be with. It’s you. You’re his one.”

Y/N starts to smile as she looks over at me, and I smile back at her. Yeah, okay, I’ll let her have this one too--she’s fucking right!

“And your daughter.” she says, and Y/N and I both look at her. “I see very good things for her. She’s going to be as smart as she is beautiful. And so very kind, just like her mother and father.”

Y/N smiles as she looks at me, “I didn’t tell her that we have a daughter.”

“Well, she had a 50/50 shot…” I say as I sit down next to her.

“Yeah, but I didn’t even tell her that we had a kid.” Y/N says, and I hold her gaze because, sure, that’s true.

The woman just chuckles and nods her head, “This isn’t your first marriage.”

I stare at her for a moment before I shake my head, “No.”

“You lost your wife.” she says matter-of-factly, and I nod my head. She gestures to her chest and heart, “Something with her heart.”

“She had a heart condition,” Y/N says, and I look over at her just as she looks at me.

The woman looks down at her cards and nods her head, then she smiles, “Your parents are very happy that they relocated to be closer to you.”

“Oh?” Y/N smiles, perking up, “I’m glad! We like having them close to us.”

I continue to look at the woman and wonder if maybe she just knows me. Maybe she’s heard about me or something. Most people knew I was married before--that’s why I left. But she doesn’t seem to even give me a lingering look. She has no clue or interest in who I am. I sit back and listen as she talks to Y/N, and the woman laughs when she says something and looks over at me.

The woman looks down at her cards and purses her lips before looking at Y/N, “You’ve recently opened your home to someone.”

“We have!” Y/N smiles, looking at me.

“He’s very grateful.” she says, and I look down at Y/N again when I see her tearing up. “He’s really needed the help you’ve given him, and he really counts on you two.”

Y/N wipes the tear off her cheek when she looks at me.

“Well, I enjoyed our time.” she says, and I reach for Y/N’s hand to help her up. I smile when Y/N looks at me, and she laughs and rolls her eyes playfully. Just as we start to walk away, the woman calls out, “John…”

I furrow my brow since I didn’t give her my name and neither did Y/N, and I turn around to look at the woman.

“Helen is very happy for you. And she approves wholeheartedly,” she says, gesturing to Y/N next to me. I stare at the woman for a moment before she looks down and begins fixing her cards.

Y/N clears her throat and shrugs when I look at her, then she turns to continue down the street with me trying to catch up and figure out how the hell that woman knew Helen’s name.

__

“You wanted to stop and talk to her.”

“Well, yeah, but…” she shakes her head and looks out the window, “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

I exhale sharply and pull the car into the rocky driveway before I turn it off and look over at her, “So now you’re mad at me?”

“Never said I was.”

“You’re giving me the cold shoulder, peach.”

After we walked away from the woman, Y/N was just different. She was quiet and looked like she was on the verge of tears. We had already eaten lunch, so we decided to just head back to the house. In the car, I tried to reach over and hold her hand, but she pulled away from me and turned toward the door--the telltale sign of an upset peach. I let her do her thing and have her moment, but I tried to get her to open up about why she was upset. She wouldn’t tell me until I finally guessed that it was the woman.

“I’m gonna go sit on the beach for a bit,” she says as she slips out of the car.

I quickly get out, “I can come with you.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Well,” I struggle to find words and end up just sounding like a dad, “Just stay where I can see you.”

She nods her head and walks away as I watch her. I sigh loudly and walk over to the back porch since I can see her, and I sit down and watch as she plops down in the sand and pulls her knees close to her chest. I let out a big sigh and sit back in my chair, keeping my eyes glued to her.

After sitting on the beach for 20 minutes, she finally gets up and starts walking back to the house. I sit up and smile when she looks at me, but she’s not feeling any better.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I lean back and grab her arm when she walks past, and I pull her into my lap, “Talk to me.”

“I…” she sighs and shakes her head, “You didn’t believe a word out of that woman’s mouth until she mentioned Helen.”

“She was saying vague stuff!” I say, and Y/N gets up and stands in front of me, “Telling us we’re perfect for each other, that there’s going to be a new family member--maybe not a baby, but an animal! It’s vague shit that she probably tells everyone. Of course I don’t believe her.”

Y/N crosses her arms, “So you don’t think we’re perfect for each other?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” I shake my head, “She just tells everyone that who sits in front of her.”

“Yet you believed her when she mentioned Helen.”

I sigh loudly, “Because how would she know her name?”

“How would she know we have a daughter? I didn’t even tell her we had a baby.”

“She had 50/50 shot at that, peach.” I say, and she rolls her eyes, “Of course when she mentions someone by name I’m going to believe it.”

Y/N huffs and turns her back to me, “I’m not trying to ruin our anniversary week.”

“Just say what’s on your mind. I’m not mad, but I want to talk this out,” I reach for her skirt and tug it a little in hopes that she’ll come back and sit in my lap.

She crosses her arms and looks at me, holding my gaze, “You only believed her when she mentioned Helen, even though she was talking about how great we are together.”

“I think we’re great together! I’ve never questioned that or said that wasn’t true.”

“Put yourself in my shoes for once, John. Think about how you’d feel if she mentioned my husband who passed away. I know you’d be upset too. You’d feel a little jealous. I know you would.”

I take a deep breath and nod, “I know. I would.”

“If she hadn’t passed away, you would still be with her and we wouldn’t be together, and we wouldn’t have Ronan,” she says as she starts to cry, “And that fucking kills me!”

I open my mouth to say something but she quickly moves past and heads into the house. I get up and follow behind her.

“I’m being dramatic, I know!” she turns around and walks backwards, and I realize she’s laughing at herself, “I’m being fucking crazy! I just…I’m so sad about it, John.”

“Peach stop,” I reach for her hand but she turns around and throws herself on the bed as she cries. I lay down next to her and pull her close to me. “Do you think everything happens for a reason?”

“Yes.”

“I do too,” I move her hair and kiss her shoulder, “I think everything happens for a reason, which is why I know everything that happened to me, including losing Helen, led me to you, because we were always meant to be together. I was always meant to find happiness with you, peach. Always. I’ll be honest with you, baby, I believed that lady from the moment she said we were soulmates. Because I know we are too.”

Y/N sniffles, “You’re gonna leave me for being crazy.”

“No, I’m not.” I laugh as I turn her over to her back so I can see her. Her eyes are bloodshot and her face is covered in tears. I prop myself up on my elbow and look down at her, “I have no plans on ever leaving you, but you have to let this go. You have to let this Helen stuff go, sweetheart.”

“I can’t,” she frowns before she starts to cry.

I wipe her tears away and cup her face, “You can, peach, and you have to. You think that all I do is sit and think about her, but I don’t. Believe it or not, I go days without thinking about her, probably even weeks. And I don’t think about her the way I used to at all. I don’t think about her that way anymore. There is no longer a part of me that wishes I could reverse time and go back. I have the best life. If I ever want to reverse time, it’s only so I can get more with you.

She lets out a big sigh and looks up at the ceiling before she turns her head a little to look at me, “Am I crazy?”

“No,” I shake my head and hold her gaze, “If I can let Helen go, you can too.”

“I guess it just hurt my feelings that it seemed like you didn’t believe anything else she said until she mentioned Helen. I wanted you to believe her when she said we were soulmates.”

I start to laugh, “I do! I absolutely believe that, but it doesn’t take a psychic telling me to know that.”

Y/N rolls over so she’s facing me, and we look into each other’s eyes for a few silent moments. She sighs and closes her eyes, so I pull her closer to me.

“I don’t think you even want to know how many times I’d ask myself if I’d ever love someone again. I wondered every single day. I wondered if I’d ever even see someone that way again. One day I told myself that if I never loved again, then oh well. It just wasn’t meant to be,” I say, and a tear rolls down her cheek when she blinks, “I really thought I wasn’t going to ever fall in love again, and I had decided to just live with it. I’d be fine. I’d be lonely, but whatever. But then I met you and everything changed.”

“John,” she frowns and closes her eyes.

I wipe her tears away, “You walked into my life and changed everything, peach. After that, I never once questioned if I’d love again because from the moment I met you, I knew that you were the one I had been waiting for this whole time. I haven’t felt lonely or unloved since you came into my life, Y/N. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I wish I wasn’t like this.”

“I love you the way you are,” I say, and she shakes her head, “Dramatics and all. Even when you throw yourself onto the bed and cry, I still love you.”

She starts to laugh, then she leans back to look at me, “Why do you put up with me? It must be so hard.”

“Why do you think you’re hard to put up with?” I ask, and she shrugs bashfully, “It’s because someone else has made you feel that way, but you’re not. You are my favorite person in the world, and if you don’t believe me, go ask the psychic. She said not to worry about it. You believed everything else she said, so believe her when she says that you shouldn’t worry.”

“John, I’m so--”

I press my finger to her lips and raise my brows, “If you say that you’re crazy or insane, I will hold you down on this bed and tickle the shit out of you.”

She finally starts to laugh, “Okay, but I am a little weird.”

“You are,” I admit, and she gasps before she laughs and pushes me over to crawl onto me, trying her best to tickle me, but I’m not ticklish. I get my arms free and wrap them around her, pulling her down to my chest and pressing my lips to hers, “You’re my favorite weirdo, peach. I’d be lost without you. When you’re upset, I know just the right way to love you to make you feel better.”

She nods, “You do.”

“And it’s the same way for me. When I’m upset, you know just how to love me,” I say, and she smiles softly. “See? We’re meant to be. We were made for each other and no one can change my mind about that.”

“Did I ruin our week?”

I shake my head, “Of course not.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and I shake my head, “No, seriously, I am. I love you. You love me.”

“I do.”

She lies down next to me, snuggling into my side, “I really am going to try to let that stuff go. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Not gonna happen,” I say as I kiss her forehead. “I promise that.”

We’re both quiet for a few minutes, just holding on another but it’s so nice.

“Sorry,” she whispers, “I’m just being stupid. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to leave.”

“Why do you say things like that?” I ask, raising my brows when she looks at me, “That you wouldn’t blame me for wanting to leave or asking why I chose you? Why do you say that stuff?”

She shrugs, “Because any other man would leave. I’m not worth the hassle--I’ve literally been told that. No one would put up with me. No one would choose this. No one would choose me.”

“Then any other man isn’t the right man for you, which they aren’t, because I’m the right man for you. I always will be. And you think no one would choose you? I chose you. I always say something bigger was at play when it comes to us, whether it’s fate, magic, or God, but what it really boils down to is that I chose you because I can’t live without you. We chose each other. Because we want to spend the rest of our lives together. There is no one else I’d rather have bad days with or insecure days with.”

“You don’t get insecure like me, John, you don’t get it.”

I sit up and look at her, “I do get it! Trust me, I get it. Think of my life. Think of how many times people have told me that I didn’t deserve something. So many people have told me that I’d never have a normal life or a happy life, but you’ve helped me retrain my brain. You’ve helped me get out of that slump of thinking I don’t deserve any of this. My insecurities might manifest in a different way, but I get it. I can’t lose you. The thought alone makes me lose my mind. But I get it, Y/N. I get it.”

Y/N sighs as she sits up and nods, “You’re right. That wasn’t fair of me to say. You never really know how much someone has fucked with your head until things are really good. I never realized how much my ex messed me up.”

“I still will kick his ass.” I say, and she starts to laugh. “Think he’s still with your cousin?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know. I don’t follow Andrea on any social media, so I have no clue, but with the way Tonya was when she stayed with us, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s searching for her daughter’s next boyfriend.”

“Well, she’ll need to look elsewhere,” I say, and she smiles at me, “I am so happily taken. Even if I was single, I’d never date her daughter. I would hate having Tonya as a mother-in-law. I feel like she’d criticize everything I did.”

“She would. Well, maybe not, since she clearly has a boner for you.” Y/N laughs, then she looks up at me, “My mom loves you, so I think she’d literally fight Tonya if she ever tried to take you from me.”

I smile, “I do love Bev.”

“Bev loves her Jonathan.”

“She has never called me John, isn’t that crazy?” I laugh as she smiles. “It’s always Jonathan.”

Y/N laughs, “And she’s never called Jimmy anything but James. I think, sure, she might have called you John once or twice since knowing you, but it’s always Jonathan.”

“Who started that?” I say, squinting my eyes playfully as she smiles.

“I always gushed about you on the phone and called you Jonathan when I talked to her. She’d call and I’d spend at least an hour talking about you.” she smiles as she cups my cheek, “You’re my favorite person.”

I kiss the palm of her hand, “You’re mine, peach.”

“Wanna go for a walk and watch the sun set?”

“I would love that.” I get up from the bed and reach for her hands, pulling her up to me. I cup her face in my hands and kiss her softly as she hums, then I lean back and hold her gaze.

“I really lucked out that day when I decided to check the mail.”

I hug her closer, “Even if you hadn’t gotten the mail that day, I was waiting for you. I’d wait until the end of time for you.”

“You’re a very patient man, John Wick.”

“So I’ve been told,” I laugh as I look down at her, “But thank you for not making me wait too long.”

I fucking love this woman. And yes, that includes her dramatic side.

__

There is nothing better than waking up next to someone you love. Y/N is tucked into my side as I slowly wake up, and I smile when she nuzzles closer to me. Surely she’s waking up too. Until then, I just look down at her and smile. I lightly trail my fingers over the few freckles she has on her cheeks and gaze at the fan of her dark beautiful lashes. She has one little freckle just below her eyebrow, so I lean over and press a gentle kiss to it.

As I look down at her, I think that surely I couldn’t love her any more than I already do, but the moment she opens her eyes and looks at me with a smile on her face, I know that my love for her will never stop growing and changing. It’s a little overwhelming when I think about how much I love her. I wouldn’t have it any other way though.

I lean over a little to kiss the top of her head, then I start to sit up, but she puts her hand on my chest to keep me in place.

“I have to pee,” I whisper, and she playfully groans before rolling over and putting her arm over her eyes to block out the sun. No doubt she’ll be coming in when I wash my hands.

Without fail, that’s exactly what happens. The bathroom is dark since I didn’t bother to turn on the light, and I watch through the mirror as she sleepily walks over and plops down on the toilet. After I wash my hands, I crawl back into bed and close my eyes. We’re on vacation, we have no responsibilities or plans, and I’m in no rush to get up for the day.

I hear the water running for several minutes and look over at the bathroom door when it turns off. Y/N is wiping her mouth off as she walks out, and I smile. She’s brushed her teeth, and I know exactly what that means.

I watch as she pulls her shirt off and tosses it aside, then she kicks off her underwear and crawls up the bed, straddling my waist before laying against my chest and kissing me.

“You know you don’t have to brush your teeth before kissing me in the morning, right?”

“My breath is horrid,” she whispers in between pressing kisses to my neck, “It’s for your own good.”

I laugh, “Is mine bad then?”

“No,” she sits up a little as I laugh, then she smiles, “Sometimes, but I don’t mind.”

I hold her tight in my arms as I sit up, then I carefully toss her aside, causing her to yelp a little.

“Okay, that was hot.” she says, fanning herself a little.

I quickly make my way to the bathroom and brush my teeth, then I walk back out to the bedroom to see her laying back on the bed with her hand between her legs. I smile as I walk closer to watch her. Her eyes trail down my body and land right at my crotch, then she smiles.

“Do it, John,” she whispers, watching as I push my boxers down. “Touch yourself while I touch myself.”

I tilt my head a little and raise my brows since she has her legs squeezed shut, and I smirk when I look back into her eyes, “Spread your legs for me.”

Y/N bites her lip as she spreads her legs apart. I stroke myself as I watch her push her fingers deep into her pussy, and I let out a small groan when she rubs her clit and smiles. I walk over to her and lean down to kiss up her body. She cups my face and rests her legs on either side of my waist when I lay on top of her.

As I kiss down her body to settle between her legs, she runs her fingers through my hair and hums before tugging it lightly to show me where she needs me. I look between her legs and smile when I see she’s throbbing for me.

The moment my mouth comes in contact with her, she arches her back and lets out a laugh. She gasps quietly and hums when I suck on her clit, then she hooks her arms around her legs and pulls her knees close to her chest. I move up a little more so I can get a better angle, eliciting loud moans from her.

“Fuck, yeah, yeah, right there,” she pants, then she drops her legs and spreads them apart again, placing her hand on my head and tugging my hair, “Fuck! Oh, shit, I’m gonna come!”

I pump my fingers in and out while simultaneously eating her out, and she moans my name loudly as her body begins to shake. She tells me that she wants me inside her, which is perfect since I can’t last much longer, so I quickly crawl up and slot myself between her legs, pumping my hips at a rapid pace as we look deep into each other’s eyes. Soon, I slow down and take long, deep strokes that cause her to dig her nails into my back and to moan loudly.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” I barely manage to choke out. I kiss down her throat then back up to her lips, “God, you feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

“I’m gonna come,” she whispers, and I nod, “Come with me.”

“That’s the plan,” I joke, and she smiles before pulling me down to kiss her.

Y/N sucks on my ear as my eyes roll shut, and I feel my body tense up before my hips shudder and jolt as I come inside of her. She grips my body tight to her and lets out a loud string of moans as I continue to move my hips, and the friction against her clit causes her to grab my arm and practically scream my name, searching for anything to hold onto as she rides out an intense orgasm. She moans and pants loudly as I look down at her, then she hums and closes her eyes, her cheeks flushed and her hairline damp with sweat. I tuck my face into the crook of her neck for a few moments as we breathe together.

“Well, good morning,” I whisper, and she laughs quietly. “What’s the plan for today?”

“This,” she says, and I raise my brows and jerk my hips a little when she places her hands on my ass. “I want you to fuck me in every position imaginable.”

I smile as I lean down to kiss her, my nose brushing against hers, “Really?”

“Maybe after some breakfast,” she says, lightly scratching my back with one hand while moving my damp hair with the other, “Does that sound good?”

“Sounds great,” I lean down and kiss her softly, but it soon turns to desperate sloppy kisses. I’m growing hard again already and I know she can feel it. I reach down and slowly slide myself back between her legs, and she smiles at me as her eyes slowly roll shut. “Should I go make some breakfast?”

She hums, “Maybe in a few minutes.”

“Oh, yeah?” I laugh, and she blushes as she nods. “What should we do for the next few minutes then?”

Y/N reaches down and pushes me in deeper as she holds my gaze, “I think you have a pretty good idea.”

__

**

Even though you said you wanted to spend the day in bed, your body needed a break--John was not holding back during that second round. Honestly, both you and John needed a break after it. The two of you hopped in the shower and got dressed, then you went and sat on the patio while John made a quick lunch for the two of you. The sun was beaming down on you, and you started to feel a little sleepy, so you closed your eyes for a few minutes until John softly nudged you to wake you up so you could eat.

“Still feeling tired?” John asks, smirking when you pull your sunglasses down your nose to look at him.

You playfully roll your eyes and push them back up, “I’m feeling fine now.”

John chuckles before taking a big bite of his salad, “Should we call the kids?”

The kids. Your heart immediately swells.

“Yeah,” you nod as you prop your phone up against your cup. You take a bite of salad just as Logan answers the FaceTime call, so you wave at him.

“Hey! How’s the vacation?”

John leans over, “It’s good! Look at our view from our patio.”

“Whoa! That’s awesome!” Logan says when John turns the camera to show him the beach. “Have you guys swam with sharks yet?”

You start to laugh, “Uh, not sure if we will. You don’t know this, but I have a huge fear of water and fish. I was bit--”

“She says she was bit by a fish, but I don’t know if I believe her,” John teases, laughing when you hold up your elbow to show him the scar. “Yeah, she says she has a scar. I see nothing, Logan.”

“How are you though? Is everything okay there?”

Logan nods, and you can see he’s sitting in the living room, “Yeah, everything is good. Just been working, coming home, and going to bed. I took Bleu with me yesterday when Daniela and I went on a hike. He loved it.”

“I bet,” John says, leaning over again, “Where’s he now?”

You smile when Bleu sits up and looks at the camera while you and John talk to him. He tilts his head from left to right when John talks to him, and you laugh when he whimpers a little.

“Oh, he misses his daddy.” you say, and John frowns a little.

John loves this dog so much. He still gets sad to leave him behind when he can’t come with somewhere. He is John’s little buddy. It never fails to make you swoon.

“I’m glad to hear things are good there, Logan,” you say, and he brings the phone back up to him.

“I saw Ronan just a little bit ago.” he says, and you and John both lean in. “I took Bleu for a walk and stopped to talk to Tess and Jimmy. Ro’s doing really well. She was laughing hysterically at Jimmy.”

John chuckles, “Yeah, she thinks he’s so funny for some reason.”

“He’s a little jealous,” you say, gesturing to John who shakes his head as he laughs. “I’m glad everything is going well there. We just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Logan smiles, and you nod your head.

John leans over to get into view of the camera, “Call or text us if you need anything, okay?”

“I will, but I’m good! Just hanging out and working.”

You smile as you wave, “We’ll talk to you soon. Be safe!”

“I will, you guys too!” he waves back, “Bye.”

“Bye, sweetheart!” you say as you and John both wave before hanging up.

Now it’s time to talk to your very favorite girl. You prop your phone back up and take another bite of food while the phone rings, and you and John both lean closer when the call is answered and all you hear is Ronan laughing.

“Bug!” you and John say in unison when she looks at the camera.

“Hi, hi, hi,” she waves, and you wave back at her.

Tess laughs as she leans down, “Hello there.”

“Hi! How’s it going?”

“Good!” Tess smiles, holding up her phone so you can see Ronan, “We’re hanging out in the backyard for a bit, then we’re going to your house to swim. Logan is there, so we’re going to grill out for lunch.”

You nod, “We just talked to him. I didn’t know if he worked or not, so I called him first hoping to catch him before he went to work, but he must not today.”

“No,” Tess shakes her head, “Jimmy let everyone have the day off today since it’s so nice. I think he just wanted to spend time with Ro.”

John scoffs, “He’s trying to steal my baby.”

“Am not!” Jimmy says before leaning down to get in frame, “You’re just mad that she thinks I’m funny. I can’t help it that I’m a jokester.”

“More like a joker,” John says, and you nudge his arm as he laughs.

“Be nice!”

John laughs, “He knows I’m messing with him.”

You smile as you look back at your phone, “How is she? She’s not too fussy, is she?”

“She was a little fussy last night. I think she was just a little confused and wondering where you two were, but she’s fine now,” Tess says as you frown, “Babe, she’s fine! Listen to her!”

Ronan has been giggling the entire phone call now, and it just makes you frown even more.

“I miss her!”

“She misses you too,” Tess says, then she points at the phone, “Ro-ro, say hi to momma and daddy.”

Ronan waves her hand and smiles, showing off her little teeth. She squeals and claps her hands, “Daddy!”

“Hi, baby,” John says, waving at the camera, “Daddy misses you!”

“I’m here too!” you say, and Ronan squeals loudly, saying your name over and over. “Hi, sweet girl!”

Ronan grins as she looks at the two of you through the camera, talking all about something. You can’t even keep up because she’s talking so fast. She slips off of Tess’ lap and runs away, and you and John both frown. She probably misses you too, but she just wants to play with Finn.

“Sorry, Finn got a new toy, so…” Tess turns the camera so you can see Ronan and Finn playing with a bubble gun, and you smile when you see Ronan running over to pop the bubbles as they fall to the ground.

“Tess,” you say, and Tess grins when the camera is back on her. “Did you buy her another new outfit?”

Tess laughs, “I don’t get to buy dresses! I mean, hell, if Finn wanted to wear them we’d buy them, but he doesn’t want to. I saw it and thought it would look cute on her. I was right!”

“She does look cute,” you say, frowning when the camera turns back to Ronan playing with bubbles.

“She’s okay, you guys. She’s having fun and she’s doing just fine. She’s eating and sleeping fine. She’s okay.”

“I know, we just miss her.” you say, and John nods. “Thank you for taking her.”

Tess scoffs as she turns the camera back to her, “I’m honored you let me have her.”

“Well, who else would we have let take her?”

“Mom?”

You start to laugh, “Mom would lose her mind having her for a week straight. She’s on a bit of a naughty streak right now.”

“Oh, we know,” Tess says, and you grimace.

Jimmy laughs as he bends down closer to the camera, “She’s taken to pinching me, by the way. Where the hell did she learn that?”

You smile when John looks over at you, “No idea.”

You tend to pinch him playfully sometimes. It doesn’t hurt him, of course, and it’s not intended to, it’s just a playful thing, and maybe Ronan sees it. Who knows? You should probably stop though so she doesn’t do it to other kids.

“It doesn’t hurt, but she thinks it’s so funny,” Jimmy says.

“It’s because you make a big scene and throw yourself on the floor. She thinks it’s hilarious.” Tess says, and you put your hand over your mouth as you laugh and look at John who does the same exact thing. “It’s fine, but her and Finn are going to be little shits when they’re like…eight and nine. We’re going to be called into the principal’s office at least once a week.”

John laughs, “She must get those mischievous genes from her mom.”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” you say sarcastically, then you smile at Tess, “Well, I’m glad she’s good.”

“I said she’s doing okay, I never said she was good!” Tess teases, and you laugh. “I’m kidding. She’s absolutely precious and I love her and would die for her. I’ll keep sending pictures and videos of her to keep you updated, but stop worrying about her and enjoy your anniversary! Go have sex on the beach or something. Wait, the beach is private, right?”

You hum, “Somewhat. No one is really around us.”

John leans over and kisses your neck, “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea. I’d like to take you on the beach again.”

“I heard that, you sicko.” Tess says, and you and John both laugh. “I love you both. Talk to you later!”

“Love you! Give Ro lots of hugs and kisses from us. Bye!” you hang up the phone and look over at John as he smiles at you, “Now my sister knows we had sex on the beach.”

John laughs, “Like you weren’t going to tell her anyway.”

“Okay, so maybe I just like to brag sometimes.” you say as John leans over to kiss you. “Do you have the patience to wait for me to finish my salad?”

“I guess,” he teases, and you slowly take a bite as you look at him. He laughs and rolls his eyes, “You’re a little shit. Ronan gets it from you!”

You smile proudly, “Maybe!”

John eyes you as you eat the last few bites of your salad slowly, and he huffs and dramatically sits back in his seat while you try not to laugh. You finally let out a laugh as you get up, and John follows behind you into the kitchen. You look over your shoulder at John as he stares at you, and you turn around and quickly pull your tank top off.

“I’m ready now.” you say, holding his gaze.

John’s eyes drop down to your breasts as he smiles, and he quickly grabs you and carries you off to the bedroom as you laugh.

“Wrong way!” you laugh, pointing toward the beach. He quickly changes direction as he spanks you, and you cling to him as he brings you down to the beach.

__

taglist:  @lilithlinen @ladyren33 @multifandombliss @ruby-octo @tnu-ree @scream-queen-25 @beingnerdyissupercool @sakurachan-9

i hate the tagging system on here so much

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #john wick x y/n #fic: hold my hand #hello 👋 #i wanna be in the bahamas with john wick so bad right now #also i promise this is for real for real the last time she's gonna be insecure about That #like she's totally valid and i support her but john is Obsessed with his wife so she really does not need to worry about anything #the man is DOWN BAD!!! #anyway i hope u all like it lemme know if you do! i appreciate the likes and comments so much #so thank you! #love you byeeeee

[cerebralrepeat]

Tfw your parent tries to gaslight you by saying you agreed to something and were there when an event happened even though they never told you shit/you weren't even fucking there:

#becky txt #my mother tried to tell me i agreed to her getting back together with my abusive father when i was younger #that i was there when she bought the rings #i wasn't fucking there and it feels like i got stabbed in the heart because i remember #telling her if she ever got back together with him she'd never see me again #yet she still was going to go back to him. the only reason she didn't was because he met my step mom #and chose her instead of my mother #my mother chose an abusive piece of shit over me and it hurts. i always thought I got through to her #when i gave her that threat at 16. then apparently she gets the rings almost a month later after that? #she doesn't fucking care! now i know why she holds a grudge against my stepmom. she still wants him back #just jesus tap dancing christ

[isa-ah]

what a fucking awful experience

#the cop outright lied on the phone about why my ID was confiscated and almost charged me another $40 for a new one #she called me sir when i sat down then realized i was there bc my male ID got taken away and she started using she #but she would drop her voice every time she misgendered me so my phone sitting on the counter recording couldnt hear her do it #there was a full lobby when i got there and they held me until literally everyone else had been cleared out #and then every cop at every desk came over and stood Around Me while i sat at her desk waiting. and waiting. and waiting. #it was just. nasty.blikr they were putting me in a situation to goad me into arguing #why else would they hsve taken up that posture Around Me. and made me wait for 30+ minutes for a supervisor #even fucking worse i wasnt the only one there getting harassed #the last other person they saw was this like 20yo dude who had the tall gangly thing going on #and 2 of the 40smtn cops were going back and forth hooting and carrying on about how skinny and hot he was #and the dude was so fucking uncomfortable it was palpable. lo came in as he left snd said his face was pale and upset #and thank fucking christ lo came in bc otherwise it would have just been my stupid tranny ass sititng there with a ring of cops around me #i get my female ID soon so we can finally get our fucking passports together at least #god. nightmare. nightmare that was awful #my mil bought me tacos on the way home and theyre in fucking flour tortillas i want to DIE

[fluffypotatey]

Rewatched "The Sword in the Stone" and God, Tristan and Isolde are just so.....

Aside from the rare display of balls from BBC, to completely do away with their tragic love story and make them both bicons and full criminals, damn, it's so rare for a TV het couple to be so Valid, and yet. Them. Crime-married, running a smuggling op, they get swept up into a Clusterfuck by the very king they are stealing from, and Tristan still brings the bae flowers just 'cause and straight-up says he don't give even half a fuck that he lost cargo as long as Isolde is safe. Like. Damn. Respect.

Also, Isolde is just fine, she passed out from pain, Gaius and Merlin fixed her right up, and now her and Tristan are running a Vaguely Legal Business in which now they just smuggle stuff from other kingdoms, which Arthur politely ignores in exchange for nitty-gritty details on the state of trade, like the strangest, most well-meant form of political corruption ever.

Arthur: Tristan, Isolde, good to see you both again, I trust you're staying out of trouble......and not illegally transporting those three crates of Mercian spices I see in your wagon.

Tristan: *pulls an oilcloth over the crates* Spices? I don't see any spices here, do you, Isolde?

Isolde: *holds up a sheaf of trade details from Mercia, Essetir, and Gwynedd* No, Tristan, I certainly don't.

Arthur: .........

Arthur: *takes the papers* You have got to stop doing this.

Tristan and Isolde: Doing what?

Arthur: *leaves*

(Also, no, I'm not having Crime Ring AU thoughts, pfft, no way.)

*sighs* *cracks knuckles* how dare you somehow know all of my weaknesses when it comes to headcanons

listen,

Tristan and Isolde are Arthur's unofficial spies. they created the camelot spy network. they weaved those webs like Arachne herself. the trade papers? just the beginning.

sure, sure, Tristan always tells Isolde that their business with camelot is a short one, that they'll only stay here for a little bit then get back to what they do best, that he only agreed to another month because Arthur turns a blind eye to their dirty money.

Isolde only rolls her eyes because she knows better. this is her husband we're talking about, someone she knows inside and out. Isolde has memorized his mannerisms until she could see them without even looking at him. Isolde could time how long her husband will deny ever caring about the "foolish king" and admit that he had grown fond of the young man.

Tristan as he is arranging a bouquet for his wife: "All I'm saying is that the kid needs a better system for information. He relies on us too much despite our stay being temporary."

Isolde mapping out Essetir's new trade details: "Maybe he enjoys the company."

Tristan: "He's a blue blood, darling. I highly doubt that we would be someone he'd loved to hang out with. Now, daffodils or lillies?"

also: Tristan called Arthur son once, and Arthur just about cried on the spot ("it's the DUST!"). Tristan begins to realize that he has basically adopted Arthur and realizes that he quite likes parenting the kid.

#tristen did the 'calls them kid ironically -> they are MY kid unironically' pipeline #anyway tristan and isolde being bi icons is correct #they walked so arwen as a bi royal couple could run #isolde is someone tristan would gift flowers and tiny daggers for #his engagement ring was actually a knife #isolde also gives tristan flowers but like in an indirect way #'oh honey i accidentally made one too many flower crowns sooooooo' #'sweetheart! i can't just go to the summer fest with you if we don't match!' *places daisey behind his ear* #also she bought him a book about herbology when they were dating and THAT is the moment tristan knew he'd marry her (he also saw her gut #someone but that was when he realized he loved her; a very clear distinction) #bbc merlin #headcanons #tristan and isolde #oh course isolde okay your honor #see she's doing just fine after being checked up by gaius #hm? de nial? don't be silly! it's called the Nile River your honor

[only-one-brain-cell]

Maeve singing along to Paper Rings by Taylor Swift and Spencer proposing the next day. 😭

#criminal minds #spencer reid #maeve donovan #wait no I need to write this #because Spencer would be hunting for THE PERFECT RING #nothing to big Maeve would want to wear it in the lab without worrying about loosing any diamonds #plus she’s not a materialistic person #so now we go to Maeve who’s dancing to Paper rings because a certain lady saw Spencer looking at rings online and can’t keep a secret #but doesn’t want to verbally tell Maeve so they have a girls night and said someone plays Paper Rings #while JJ and Emily are just giving her the side eye because they also know #because Spencer is dumb when it comes to Maeve and they overherd him talking to Rossi asking for a second opinion #because “you’ve done this three times so you must have a good idea about engagement rings” #“first of all kid I only bought two rings”

[streets-in-paradise]

I found a new link to watch Prince of Persia, nature is healing. I can hear the sounds of the birds from my window and life is happy again 

@blackheart-beauty​

#lol #i thought i lost it forever #i used to have the dvd #but it got ruined at some point of my childhood #because of the over use #( no kidding #back in the day i had to re-buy troy again twice #because of how over used the dvd was #same happened with fellowship of the ring #the dvds were all scratched #my mom didn't mind because she used to be like that with the tapes when she was young #so she re-bought me a few #i'm almost sure prince of persia also got ruined #but i think we couldn't get it again)

[wander-over-the-words]

For a reason that is GENUINELY not my fault, my mama has named her mother's day present - a statue/pencil pot shaped like an elephant, her favourite animal - Benny

#wandering over the words #NRGNRNG #IT'S CAUSE. I guess the company that made the card I bought for her has a mascot?? and his name is Benny?? #(which I didn't even notice until I was writing in it!! and I was just like ''oh well no wonder I bought this card lmao'') #and there's a picture of him on the back that I pointed out to her. cause it's a cute doodle. #and so when she wanted to name the little statue - as she does for all the elephant memorabilia she owns - she went ''how about Benny?'' :D #AND ON THE INSIDE. I WAS LIKE ''AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA'' #BUT ON THE OUTSIDE I JUST ''that's a great name!'' c: #and when my sibling - who has played Fallout New Vegas - came into the room I was like ''she named him Benny'' c: #and they just went ''HA. ring a ding ding.'' ''RING A DING DING'' #so. now we have Benny the Elephant in our house nrgnrng #Benny vc: what the hell's an elephant

[dxonutz]

the way i say i didnt like stampede but keep making ocs for it lol

spoilers ahead

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun oc #trigun stampede oc #meryl stryfe #roberto de niro #spoilers after this tag specifically #so stop reading here if u dont wanna see #i wonder if meryl wouldve had to go herself to tell maria abt roberto #since she was there when he dipped #maybe she bought smth of his to her as a memorial #since meryl took his derringer n ww took his last pack of cigs #plus his flask is at his grave #maybe maria got his wedding ring #also maria is pregnant during this #so double the emotional damage #roberto will never meet his future kid