#it’s getting hot in here yall

[danibee33]

Part III of undercover!Ghost 🩶

ghost x reader (callsign: Hela)

word count : 4.7k

>>> [PT 1] [PT2]

You aren’t avoiding Ghost. Not really..

Ok, maybe you are.

The week since the undercover mission had been busier than usual, so it’s not like you don’t have an excuse for your absence- you did have other duties and responsibilities to attend to collaterally to the one-four-one. But were you using said collaterals to possibly steer clear of a certain person..? Well, that’s not important.

“Been awhile, lil’ LT..”

You return Soap’s grin, looking up at him as you both take tentative steps- him reaching out first, and you deflecting,

“D’ya miss me that much, sergeant?” You say, eyes skimming his form, looking for any weakness in it, waiting for the right opening.

It wasn’t a planned meet up, you just needed something to do- you’ve been so restless lately, like no matter what you do, it’s never quite enough to stem the relentless flow of thoughts. Which is how you found yourself on the sparring mats opposite the equally restless man at such an ungodly hour.

“Always miss ye, hen..” Soap grunts just before lunging for you, attempting to swipe your leg but inadvertently opening himself up for you to get your arms and legs wrapped around torso- using your body weight to bring him to his knees,

“Steamin’ Jesus, lil LT- worse than a fuckin’-”

Whatever insults he might’ve tried to spew are cut off when you suddenly readjust, but he recovers quicker than you expect- lifting up and bringing you along with him,

“If ye wanted to cuddle, ye could’a just said so..” Soap says, that flirty little lilt at the edge of his words, the same one you’ve heard him use at the bar a hundred times now. And the lopsided smirk on his lips is all too familiar as he tightens his grip around your waist–

God, he’s such a fuckboy…

With a breathless groan, you switch your hold again, crossing your arm over his face in order to put distance between you while still keeping him mostly trapped,

“Shut it, MacTavish. I’m still winning, aren’t I?”

You go back and forth like this until you’re both struggling to breathe and your muscles begin to quiver with fatigue- throwing jokes and jabs easily. It had always been effortless to talk with Soap, banter with him came naturally, but you think it’s only because you two are alike in that way. Never at a loss for words to fill a silence.

And by the time you’re both thoroughly exhausted, all sweat and panting breaths as you stick uncomfortably to the mat, does he roll to his feet, brushing his hair back in the same motion,

“Always a pleasure, ma’am.” He grins, dwarfing your hand in his own as he tugs you up, “And we’re, uh, we’re goin’ out tomorrow night- or well, tonight, I s’pose.” he fumbles over his words in that adorable way he does sometimes, like a schoolboy with a crush on his teacher, “If ye’d like to come.. I can have LT text ye the details.”

At the mention of Simon, you feel the very tips of your ears begin to burn. The sergeant’s prompt too quickly bringing back all the thoughts and memories you had been trying to purge yourself of by coming here,

“Um.. Sure. No promises, though. It’s been busy, ya know..” You say, fighting to keep your tone flippant and casual- but John MacTavish is more keen than you might have given him credit for.

He walks by your side out of the gym, obviously searching for the right way to bring it up, until finally it’s almost like you can feel his own curiosity win over his better judgment,

“Ma’am.. Did somethin’ happen? On the last mission?” The next few seconds are filled with him trying, and somewhat failing but it’s amusing nonetheless, to explain why he’s asking- mostly due to your unusual absences since returning that night. The way you’ve been avoiding the entire team in favor of doing paperwork in your office-

Which you never did because you said you hated being back there on your own.

No, you always preferred to take care of those things in the common spaces, where the chances of having company were always high.

“Was it seein’ LT’s mug? I ken that’s always a bit of a shock for first timers, but-”

“What?” You interject, eyebrows raised in surprise, “No.. no, it has nothing to do with that..”

Well, that’s also not entirely true, is it? But you don’t think it’s for the reasons Soap’s imagining.. It’s more about the fact that everytime you even catch a glimpse of the giant man, you’re reminded of how handsome he was on his knees in front of you, how big his hands felt over your thighs, how his tongue-

“Well, just think ‘bout joinin’ us, won’t ye?”

The sheer amount of hope in Johnny’s voice pulls you out of your reverie, replacing the memory of amber eyes with bright cerulean ones, and that signature fucking smirk,

“Fine! Just chill out with the puppy dog eyes, MacTavish.. Begging like a damn dog.” You concede, waving him away and turning toward your hall without waiting for his reaction. But he doesn’t let you get far before you hear his chuckle, husky and chocked full of guile, bounce off the concrete walls,

“Woof, woof, lil LT..”

Ghost doesn’t like new places.

He doesn’t like being unfamiliar with his surroundings, because he spends too much fucking time being unfamiliar in nearly every surrounding he’s sent to. He doesn’t like leaving things up to chance, doesn’t like how much more stress accumulates around his shoulders and neck- it annoys him, the ache.

But Johnny and Gaz had just been so damn adamant about trying out a new pub. One on the opposite end of town, and he can admit it’s nicer than their usual hole in the wall, but still.

Ghost doesn’t like new places.

Well, that was until he caught sight of you. And then he found himself slightly more drawn to the low lighting that danced over your skin, the way it glowed in your eyes as your survey the bar-

“Hel’s ‘ere?” He asks, downing the last nip of bourbon in his cup.

Johnny’s head whips up then, spotting you in an instant- and there’s something about his response that causes Simon’s gaze to narrow at the shorter man. It’s too… giddy, too reverent for his liking.

“Aye! Invited her the other night.”

That ache in his neck returns but somehow significantly worse.

The other night? You had been with Johnny the other night? When this entire fucking week he hadn’t been able to get three fucking seconds alone with you-

Ok, no, he hadn’t worked up to trying to just call or text, that felt too impersonal. He was shit at all that anyway, he needs to see your body language, needs to analyze all the little expressions that give away so much more than words do. But you had somehow found a way to beat him at his own game. You turned into a ghost, only ever catching your silhouette from the corner of his eye, hearing your voice but never being quick enough to be within a few meters of you.

And possibly the worst was when he would enter a room you had been recently in, the smell of you permeating the air, causing his heart to stutter just so with every deep breath.

Fucking hell..

But here you are. And at Johnny’s request, no less.

Ghost despises new places.

Yet, he does think he could learn to like the overly enthusiastic beat of the music when he sees your hips sway to the rhythm as you wait for your drink. You’re in tight jeans and a black leather jacket that fits your figure like a goddamn glove- and he swears he can feel the silk of your skin by just memory alone, the curves of your body already etched into his mind.

“Gonna get a refill.” He grunts, already walking away from the table with the empty glass in hand.

The sound of a cup being sat on the bartop snaps you back to the present, followed by a heady rush of chills when you hear the baritone of Simon’s voice far closer to your ear than you expect,

“So, she lives.”

You let out a small breath, turning to find the burly breadth of his chest taking up nearly your entire field of view- clad in black from head to toe, which doesn’t surprise you one bit, but it’s not his usual hoodie and jacket. No, this time he’s in a black henley that fits more like a second skin, the fabric deliciously stretched over his pecs and shoulders, the top button left open to give you just a peek at the silver chain glinting underneath and… is that a tattoo?

“She does..” You say, meeting his eyes.

And you really should know better, with too many of your nights haunted by the deep amber of his irises- but the instant it happens, it’s like you’re back in that damned office all over again. The music grows faint, and the people around you turn into little more than blurs at the edge of your vision. He’s all you can feel, the heat of him, the intensity behind his gaze, the way his head tilts softly to the side, studying you as if he might be recommitting your features to memory- not that he needs to.

Because you’ve haunted him just as much. You’ve been the bane of his existence this last week, and somehow the only thing he can see when he shuts his eyes. The sole focus of his loathing and his desire-

“Ma’am, your whiskey sour-” The bartender announces from behind you, effectively breaking the spell you’ve been so wrapped up in right before you hear another small clink, “and a bourbon, neat.”

Without hesitation, Simon leans closer, big arm reaching around you to pull his glass from the bartop and the black surgical mask covering his mouth and nose down in the same motion. He keeps that same heavy gaze on you, your own eyes growing wider at the sight of his face, his crooked nose and scarred lip. You watch him take a short sip, but just as quick as it happened, his mask is back in place, and he’s stepping back,

“C’mon. Table’s over ‘ere.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt whiplash quite like seeing Ghost turn his back on you, easily carving a path through the patrons that fill the space-

But you are damn sure the infuriating Brit isn’t going to get the last word in this.

Ghost can feel your stare, feel how it’s directed right at the back of his skull. A perfect kill shot if he were a betting man. But he can also hear the quiet click of your boots following after him, the tightness in his jeans growing more noticeable with every step-

Fuck.

“Lil’ LT! Glad ye’ could make it out!” Johnny shouts over the crowd, blue eyes cast in mischief and that open sort of admiration that Ghost is sure the man couldn’t hide even if he tried.

You round the table, looking up at the Scot with a devastating smile on your lips before nudging his shoulder with your own,

“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure your ego wasn’t too damaged after kicking your ass this morning, sergeant.”

“Ach! -”

Ghost can hear Johnny sputtering on and on in that terrible mashup of English and Scottish slang that’s always grated on the lieutenant’s ears- but whatever he’s saying doesn’t quite register. Instead, he can only really hear the way your laugh brightens the dim room, see the way your head tips back as you take another sip of your drink.

And it’s only then he realizes that he just wishes you would look at him like that. Wishes that he could draw the melodious sound from you, that he could be the reason you smile so brightly-

“Well, well, well-” the group looks over to see Gaz and Price meandering through the throng of bodies, the younger man with outstretched arms, “Hela! Thought you’d up and left our sorry arses!”

All Simon can do is grit his teeth as Gaz embraces you in a quick side hug, Price close behind with a warm grin even on his bearded face,

“And miss out on all the fun? You know me better than that, Garrick.” You say, raising your glass to the Captain in greeting.

So, no, Ghost doesn’t like new places.

But he can’t deny that as the next hour passes he’s smiled more than a few times at his team’s antics. And he certainly can’t say that he hasn’t missed the way you bring them all a little closer, your bubbly brand of forwardness allowing them to each get out of their heads, even if just for a little while.

“What’s this about you handin’ MacTavish's arse to him?” Price’s voice booms over the music, which has only seemed to get louder the later it gets-

Ghost watches you down the rest of your whiskey sour without so much as a flinch, your cheeks flushed such a pretty pink from the alcohol,

“I mean, is that really a surprise?” You shoot back, the man in question all but slamming his glass down on the table in rebuttal-

“Ooh- yer arse is oot the windae! I want a rematch!” Johnny’s words slur together just enough to give away how good he’s really feeling, throwing an arm over your shoulder, “Watcha say, lil LT? And this time we’ll have a proper judge, right Cap? No cheatin’-”

It really isn’t fair how you lean into him as you chuckle, that ache in Simon’s neck creeping up again at the sight.

Christ alive, why can’t he just get it together? Why does he care? You’ve never been one to shy away from physical touch… but fuck all if it doesn’t eat at him.

“Oi, who wants another round?” Gaz, thankfully interjects, drawing everyone’s attention with a collective and resounding sound off.

The others waltz away through the crowd in the direction of the bar, everyone but you- standing across from Ghost at the table, toying with the toothpick in your glass,

"Late night spar, huh?" You don't miss the added gruffness in his tone, or the fact that he refuses to look at you now, staring somewhere over your head.

And if you were a better woman, you wouldn't feel the need to play into his offputting display of jealousy- but you're you after all.. and he's Ghost. So, you give a little hum before plucking the tiny skewer from your cup,

"Couldn't sleep.." You shrug, looking up at him under you lashes, his eyes already on the maraschino cherry that drips down your fingers, "Figured I'd do something a little more productive since I was up anyway-"

Simon tracks your hand, falling right into your terrible little game as you bring the fruit to your lips- it's tooth achingly sweet when you finally bite into it, mixed with the burn of whiskey. And it's when the juice runs down your chin that you meet his gaze, swiping up the liquid on your thumb, he watches with a severity that sends a dangerous chill up your spine- not even daring to blink as you suck the digit clean.

You know he's keenly aware of exactly what you're doing, but that doesn't stop the lust and satisfaction from rushing through you at his deep growl- those coppery eyes darker than you've ever seen.

All too innocently, you flash him a smile, "I think I'll have one more.. you want anything, sir?"

Ghost thinks he can feel the crystal glass in his hand begin to splinter under his grip, unable to tear his eyes away from the red stain on your lips- it's enough to drive him mad.

He gives you a curt shake of his head, knowing that if he had another drink, he might lose whatever vague sense of self-control he's clinging onto so precariously.

And instead of watching you walk away, he turns toward the pool tables, needing something to do with his hands- because if he clenched them any fucking tighter he think he might draw blood with the way his blunt nails dig into his calloused palm.

Without waiting for the others, he racks the balls before picking up a cue stick and breaking the formation- moving around the table just as Johnny sidles up to him,

"Did’nae take ye for a billiards guy, LT.." He says, quickly working to chalk up his own cue.

Gaz and Price follow soon after, eager to join in on teams- and it works, for a short time anyway to distract him. If he can just stay focused on making each shot, then he won't have time to think about you. But, that's a rather silly notion, isn't it? Because sure enough, just as he leans in to take a shot, he spots you bump elbows with his Scottish counterpart.

"Here to give me some good luck, lil LT?" Johnny looks down at you with a lopsided grin, both hands wrapped around the cue stick as he leans on it.

You take a slow sip of your drink, just enough time to glance at Simon- sleeves now pulled up to expose the thickly corded muscles of his forearms and the faded black ball cap on his head turned backwards. He's calculated in his shot, efficiently knocking a striped ball into the nearest pocket-

"I don't think you want any of my luck, sergeant.." You drawl, eyes flitting up to see his deep blue ones already on you, "Can't say I have the best track record when it comes to that."

Soap's chuckle is warm and laced with silk in your ears, watching him copy his superior's movements, finessing his own cue to score a bankshot. Gaz is next, followed by Price, and you follow them ardently, moving around the table as they go until it's back to Ghost-

"Aye, LT-" Johnny calls, "Why don't you show Hela how to do a jump.."

You've managed to get close enough to the towering man now that he has to look down at you before glaring back at his sergeant,

"'m sure she can figure it out on 'er own, Johnny."

"I've actually never really played." You say before your better judgment can stop your mouth from moving- maybe you have had a little much to drink.

And the way Simon's jaw clenches, having taken off his mask as the other patrons slowly dispersed, makes your core tighten- biting the fleshy inside of your cheek between your teeth. You shouldn't push it. You’ve done enough of that already, haven’t you?

Yet, in one swift motion, Simon's hand is on your hip, the other taking the half-empty cup from your grasp before positioning your body in front of his. It isn't exactly gentle, there's a roughness to his movements that put you on edge, a stiffness in his voice that only stokes the the fire in your belly,

"Hold it 'ere.." You take the stick in your hand, the wood still hot from his touch, "and 'ere."

When you grab it this time, he covers your hand, easily repositioning it further down- "Like that."

Very suddenly, you're regretting putting yourself in this situation, so swept up in the feeling of Simon all but dwarfing you, his proximity far more intoxicating than any of the alcohol you've consumed tonight, that you don't notice the sly smirk on Gaz's face- nor the knowing looks shared between your teammates.

In your defense, Simon makes it hard to concentrate on much of anything with the way he slowly leans into you, urging you to bend forward- his hold light but still strong enough to make the slightest adjustments to your stance,

"Lift your elbow now." He mutters, his breath tickling over your exposed shoulder, your jacket left slung over the nearest chair. But it's his hand that catches you off guard, because unlike every other movement he's made with purpose and intention, a man simply doing a job; when he moves now, it's slow, his fingers grazing up your side before softly caressing the skin of your arm,

"Good."

You shift on your feet, your body feeling like it might combust at any moment, the one word spoken in his brassy accent threatening to unravel you on the spot.

The next few moments seem to pass in a blur, you feel him lean in just a bit closer, his left arm bracing over you on the edge of the table as his right hand lands right behind yours on the stick. Whatever he does after is more like a magic trick than logic, rushing the tip downward on the ball with enough force to nearly jerk you forward, but with enough finesse that the little sphere hops off the table- knocking what you assume was the intended target into its pocket.

It takes longer than you're proud of to recover, scrambling to put a bright smile on your face, moving when he does and hoping to whatever deities might exist that it's dark enough to hide the red hue of your cheeks,

"Look at that, a natural, ma'am!" Gaz shouts, clapping a wide palm over your back- and you try to force out a laugh, try to keep your eyes away from the dark form that's moved back towards the table now.

Away from you.

And you wish it didn't make your stomach twist, seeing him pull his mask back on and fixing his ballcap again so that the bill sits low over his eyes-

"Headin' out, Simon?" Price speaks up, an unlit cigar propped lazily between his lips now.

Simon gives his signature nod, which barely a perceptible gesture, but you're all used to it enough by now. The captain, already out past his bedtime, is happy to begin rounding up his own belongings as well, urging the sergeants to get it together and get to the truck,

"I call shotgun!" Soap calls over his shoulder, already barreling towards the exit, Garrick hot on his heels,

"Fuckin' hell.." Price grumbles, looking back at you, "Need a lift, love?"

"No, I'm good. See you tomorrow, Cap." You say, a tired smile reassuring him enough that you would get home-

And just like that, the once bustling pub is more like a ghost town when you step out into the crisp night air, watching the tail lights flicker away. You had gotten a taxi here, but you feel too wired to call for one now- your body felt like it was vibrating, still so lost in the fading memory of what happened inside. But maybe you were just imagining it.. maybe you had let those lines between reality and fantasy blur a little too close for comfort.

Simon climbed into the driver's seat, his hands hitting the steering wheel before ripping the hat and mask off and throwing them onto the dash-

"Fuck."

What was he thinking? He should have never given into it, never touched you the way he did, held you, gotten close enough to feel you against him again. Should have never fed the monster.

God-fucking-damn MacTavish and his annoying fucking antics, never knowing when to quit. Ever since the undercover mission, the man had been a hound with a scent. Testing and prodding and sticking his damned nose in places it didn't belong-

Simon loathes new places.

But there you are. Standing under the milky glow of the street lamp, your hands tangled in your hair and your cheeks puffed in frustration. And so fucking beautiful he can't stand it.

He should leave. He needs to go back to base, needs to take a shower so cold it hurts, needs to bury himself in work just like you did. He needs, he needs, he needs.

Yet, he doesn't do any of those things.

No, like the awful, depraved man he is, he steps out of the truck and makes a beeline right for you- which, looking back on it, might not have been the best course of action because the instant you see his hulking frame he watches how you go on the defensive. Your posture stiffening and your hand reaching for one of your many concealed weapons if he knows you like he thinks he does.

That's ok though, he imagines you could stab him right here in the parking lot and he wouldn't mind one bit. Hell, you could slit his throat and he would smile as he bled out at your feet.

Thankfully, you do neither of those things.

And as soon as you're within reach, he's got those big hands framing your face, crushing his lips to yours.

Shock is all you can register at first. Your mind and body flooded by adrenaline, ready for a fight when you initially saw the shadowed figure coming for you. But in those same few seconds, you recognized him, recognized every purpose driven stride, the steady sway of his shoulders-

Though him kissing you hadn't necessarily been on the list of things you had expected.

You're pulled to your tiptoes, and for a moment you think it might be a dream, the way he audibly groans when your lips begin to move against his. But he doesn't relent, and you don't want him to. So you lean up, wrapping your arms around his neck as soon as your muscles can catch up to your thoughts.

You feel his tongue gently glide over your bottom lip, a gentle urging for you to reciprocate- which you're more than happy to oblige. The kiss turning somehow more heated, sloppy even, something you had never experienced yet something that you never want to end.

But all too soon, he does pull away, his fingers threading through your hair, "I'm sorry-"

Again, hearing Simon Riley apologise was just not on the bingo card for tonight.

He presses his forehead to yours, your heavy breaths mingling with his, remnants of whiskey and bourbon filling your nostrils,

"Sorry?" You look up at him, eyebrows tightly knitted, "For what?"

"The mission.. I shouldn't have- I didn't-" --he stumbles over his words, scarred lips finally pulling into a grimace, "Hel, is it true?"

The way his gaze bores into you feels intimate, like he's trying to peel you apart, "Gonna have to be a little less vague there.. I'm smart, but I can't read minds."

Your breathy chuckle helps to ease the tension, if such a thing were possible with how close he still holds you,

"That you've never been with anyone, like that.."

Oh. GOD FUCKING DAMN YOU, MACTAVISH.

When you take a step back, he reluctantly lets you go, his expression faltering for a moment- and you hate it. Hate that you had possibly hurt him- but you just needed space to put it all together, to try to explain.

"Yes.." his face falls even more, and it's like you can feel the shame that radiates from him, your hands reaching for him on their own, fingers tangling into the fabric of his shirt, "But I wanted it.. I wanted.. you. I want you- jesus, fuck- I'm so bad at this."

"You didn't say anythin'.."

You shake your head, a laugh huffing through you as you look to the inky sky above, "Would it have changed anything?"

"I wouldn't have-"

"You wouldn't have done what you did? Why?"

That seems to stump him, his mouth opening and then closing, opening again, "You deserved more."

"Simon, just because I've never had sex doesn't mean I'm completely naive.." You initiate the kiss this time, mimicking the way he had held your face, pulling him closer, "I'm under no illusion that it's suppose to be this magical moment-"

He eagerly returns your kiss, an arm wrapping around your waist as you continue, "And, let's be honest, having 'The Ghost' on his knees was waaayy better than sex."

You feel his smile right before he bends down and hoists over his shoulder,

"Simon!"

But, your shrieks and giggles fall on deaf ears, hands smacking at his back in a lame attempt to wiggle free, "Mm.. no, no, keep screamin' my name, sweet girl. I like the way it sounds."

a/n: this one got away from me… but your honor, they’re down so bad for each other 😭 thank you for reading!!

[PT 4] (coming soon)

[the-kipsabian]

saw a take so fucking rancid on twitter i almost deleted the entire app from my phone jesus fucking christ

first of all ao3 is an archive site. this is like going to the library and saying "oh i dont like this" on every piece of media you find that you dislike and thinking they should be stamped with some sort of a marker just cause you didnt like it

you can always click back and leave. fic writers owe you nothing to explain themselves and their creations. if they have mistagged or miscategorized fics, then i understand, however there are report tools for that instead of yelling at the artist tbh

im not saying free works arent necessarily above criticism. but this is just. fucking wild. its common courtesy to just enjoy stuff (or fucking leave if you dont, the back button is free) and if the artist specifically asks for critiques, then give one - constructive that is, shitting all over someones work is not proper criticism, mind you

i just find it fucking wild people are treating art and archive sites as social media these days like this and everything needs to be policed and ~catered to the algorithm~ like. no. ao3 doesnt have an algorithm. you should be able to fucking tell what you like and what you dont like and steer away from that kind of content and let people fucking be with their art. they dont owe you anything (except trigger warnings i'd argue, but i know some people disagree with that as well for some reason), and imagine how much more energy you'd have if you only engaged with things you liked and spent time looking at instead of going to places where you dont enjoy yourself. let alone spending time telling other people you dont enjoy what they enjoy. what a fucking life

[rileyclaw]

this is how hollow mind went right

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

yk, its weird being Way Too Aware & In Control of yourself bc technically i believe im having a panic attack. but somehow i am Very Unbothered by this, bc i know whats happening and its illogical. my body's having an overreaction and i couldn't be fucked to join in

[mariatesstruther]

okay just hear me out modern au where tommy ends up picking up ellie from pre school almost everyday since joel is busy but he keeps meeting teacher maria

okay bestie as a preschool teacher you GOT me with this one. like you got me SO GOOD. this might actually get published to ao3, you got me soooo fuckin’ good right now. i have so many unnecessary details for such a simple plot so here’s a cut

tbh i feel like even as busy as joel is, he’d prioritize picking up and dropping of sarah as much as he can, so maybe he and tommy would alternate???? so on days when tommy drops off, joel picks up and when joel drops off, tommy picks up. sarah goes to a public preschool with a lot of kids, so she gets easily overwhelmed and sometimes needs extra cuddles or kind words in the mornings to make it out of the car.

one monday, a couple months into school, sarah is particularly VERY anxious because there’s a new teacher to replace ms. doherty, who quit unexpectedly on friday “because she said we gave her alooooottt of headaches, daddy.” now, sarah knows nothing about the new teacher except that shes a girl from a place called new york—and sarah doesn’t even know what new yawk IS like, thats So Far Away??? (“it’s not really that far, baby,” joel says to her. “and it’s new york. with an o sound.”) still, sarah is VERY concerned:

is new yawk like another planet???? (no, babygirl.) but what if she’s an alien???? (the school only hires human teachers, baby. they promised.) but what if she’s a SECRET alien??? (she won’t be, i promise.) okay but what if she’s mean???? (if she is, you tell me or tommy and we’ll talk to her about it, okay? she shouldn’t be mean to you.) what if she doesn’t play good music at quiet time???? (you can ask her nicely and i bet she will, baby. just say please and thank you, okay?)

still, even with her questions answered, sarah is very nervous on monday. both joel and tommy go with her in an effort to start her day off extra good, especially because joel can’t pick her up. they reassure her that new york has plenty of nice people and her new teacher will probably be one of them. she also gets TWO WHOLE extra minutes of cuddle time with BOTH of them before she and daddy have to leave the car—it’s half for her and half for them, because they’re honestly pretty anxious for her to like her new teacher too

joel is the one to hold sarah’s hand and walk her inside, because the school prefers only one guardian to drop off at a time. tommy’s nervous, but joel actually seems pretty pleased when he gets back to the car with no sarah in tow. surprisingly, he’s back faster than any time they’ve ever dropped sarah off before. with a proud smile, he tells tommy is that miss maria seems really nice. more importantly, she’s Black, which joel says Sarah got really excited about. tommy pries for more details, and he’s glad he does: apparently miss maria has locs, a few even blue and purple, and the first thing sarah’d said to her was an emphatic “😲😍🤩 i like your hair!!!!!!!!,” to which she had responded “thank you! i like your hair! what’s your name, sweets?” and that’d been that

later, when tommy does pickup that day, he doesn’t know what to expect. most times at the end of the day, sarah is super reserved and a bit cranky, eager to get home to finally have time to herself. tommy’s goal is usually to try and get her to at least wave goodbye to her teachers like joel asks—but, more often than not, she opts for reaching for uppies and hiding her face in his chest until they leave.

today??? no. it takes sarah a full two minutes to even notice tommy’s there because her and this drop-dead-fucking-gorgeous woman in a soft-looking lavender pants and blouse set are finishing up a painting at the easel wall. they’re working on what looks like a brown and purple butterfly, probably the most carefully shaped sarah’s ever made.

tommy’s heart stops when this goddess miss maria finally looks over at him and smiles with perfect pearly-whites, waving him over behind sarah’s back. when she says “sarah honey, i think someone’s here for you!” in her sing-songy toddler-tone, tommy swears an angel gets his wings. sarah turns around, shrieks with joy upon seeing him, and runs down to him with her arms out, yelling all the while: “THOMMYYYYYYY!!!!!”—because sarah’s still working on her hard ts—“thommy!!!! thommy thommy thommy come look!!! i made a butterfly for u!!!!! look!!!!! it matches ms. maria!!!!!! it’s gorgeous!!!!” (she’s been obsessed with calling things gorgeous ever since she heard tommy say it about a harley motorbike last week. joel especially thinks it’s cute, especially because of how she over-emphasizes the j-sound: gor-Jus.)

tommy’s never seen her so excited to show her art off at pickup-time before; usually, she waits until they’re home and she’s feeling less shy to start showing off, but she’s babbling and pointing to it as he picks her up and sets her on his hip: “it’s brown and purple like miss maria!!! isnt it so gorgeous, unca thommy??? do you like it???? aren’t they SO gorgeous????”

and now miss maria is looking at him. and he’s looking at her. tommy knows he’s blushing, and he hesitates—which sarah does NOT appreciate, so she says: “unca tommy!!!!!!! don’t be WUDE! thell miss maria she’s gorgeous!!! she is!!!”

luckily, miss maria saves him by explaining, in a slightly firmer teaching voice: “sarah sweets, that’s okay! we’re only just meeting, and that’s not really something you say to a stranger, okay?”

“but why noooooooot?? you are gorgeous! like my butterfly! isn’t she so gorgeous, thommy?”

“well, yeah, of course,” tommy agrees easily, because she obviously is—and shit. now miss maria is looking at him like he’s a fucking bonehead, because he obviously fucking is. “but—uh, i mean—she’s right, hon’. you gotta listen to your teacher, and that’s not somethin’ you say to a stranger, okay?”

but then, after thinking to her tiny self for a few seconds: “well if she stays my teacher then she’s not a stranger, is she???” sarah asks tommy, then turns her conniving little head towards maria, too. “and you said you’d stay! so can he say you’re gorgeous tomorrow?” then, without waiting for an answer, she’s back towards tommy to finish: “i think you should call her gorgeous tomorrow.”

“i think we should go home, s’what i think,” tommy says, finally deciding to save himself from four-year-old torment. he sets sarah down and pats her on the end with a gentle but firm request to go get her stuff from her cubby, which she goes to do without her complaints of being too tired to walk. maria watches them closely with a close-lipped but relaxed grin. when sarah’s out of earshot, he apologizes. “sorry ‘bout that, ma’am.”

“don’t be,” miss maria teases, crossing her arms. “you did call me gorgeous, after all. i’ve had worse introductions.”

“tommy miller,” he offers, moving to shake her hand. he notices her nails are done-up, a sparkly blend of pretty shades of purple that look tie-dyed on somehow. her hands aren’t soft, not really, but they’re smooth enough to make him shiver as he pulls away. “sarah’s uncle.”

“oh, i know,” she reassures, then nods her head pointedly towards sarah. the little one is coming back towards them with her lunchbox in one hand and her water bottle in the other, walking extra careful so she doesn’t trip over herself like she did last week, tommy guesses. clearly fond, maria continues. “she spent all day telling me about you and her daddy. you’re doing great with her.”

“unca thommy! i’m ready to go!” sarah sing-songs, interrupting whatever miss maria might’ve said next. internally, tommy thanks his niece—the you’re doing great was already enough to make him cry, and he’d rather not do so in front of either her or her amazing new teacher. plopping her lunch and bottle at tommy’s feet, sarah gives not one, but two eager waves to miss maria, hands flapping madly up towards the woman’s face. “bye miss mariaaaaa!!!! i’ll see you tomorrow!!!!”

“bye sarah sweets!” maria says back, waving just as enthusiastically. to tommy, she raises an amused, teasing eyebrow. just loud enough for him to hear as he turns away, he hears her say “bye, gorgeous,” and laugh, giving yet another angel a pair of wings.

it takes everything in him to not fall straight to the floor, toppling his own precious niece, right then. he doesn’t think he even breathes until both he and Sarah are secured in the car, him in the front and her in her carseat. she’s already babble singing mary j. blige’s “just fine,” which they usually play and sing on their way home from school to help her regulate. when he plays the song this time, sarah smiles bright at him through the rearview and says “i already feel just fine, unca tommy!!! but can we still play it, just for fun?”

“of course, baby,” he says, and start singing along with her. he’s feeling just fine, too.

🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

tagging some homies (btw just let me know if u wanna be tagged in this kinda stuff or not guys! im never sure lol): @becomethesun @clickergossip @boilingcowboy @bumblepony

[81gb]

JEY USO © SMACKDOWN / JULY 07 , 2023

[churbo]

continuing my self imposed tradition of drawing these guys for new years! Happy new years everyone!

[saitamastamaticsoup]

Hobie “i hate labels” brown would not hate relationship labels I fear y’all aren’t understanding what he means by that in a punk way

[rushingheadlong]

okay, last post about the tank top (for now, until we inevitably get more photos) but setting aside the flailing and thirsting and excitement and everything else for a moment here

more than anything I am just SO happy that Brian felt comfortable enough to wear that tank top out onstage again without anything else over it

because he's obviously been using tank tops as his undershirt for the entire tour so far but even with everything being posted from soundchecks and hotels and his stationary bike we haven't seen him in just the tank on this tour before. he's wearing these constantly now, nearly daily, and until Halloween every image of him from this tour had been with an overshirt on or wearing a different t-shirt entirely.

and we know that Brian had(/has) body image issues and if you look at his entire wardrobe over the entire course of his life it's pretty freaking obvious that at least some of those issues are with his torso and shoulders. yes he's allergic to buttons but how many photos do we have of him actually shirtless compared to, say, Roger or Freddie?

more than that, how many times has he performed with Queen while wearing a tank top? I'll tell you right now you can count it on one hand and it's never been during a Queen concert specifically. the closest he's ever gotten has been rolling up his sleeves during the Q+PR years, or the handful of times he did the same in the 80s.

"we was glam!" Brian once said, and honestly that's probably a large reason why he's never worn tanks onstage with Queen before. because Queen's aesthetic is very different than that of his solo tours, and Q+AL is very different from Q+PR in that the glam vibes that Adam brings allow Brian to return to some of his own stage costume roots. Brian has a wild number of shirt and/or outfit changes during the show, and even the "street clothes" he wears on stage are sparklier than they ever were during the Q+PR years - not to mention that he's actually wearing costumes again, with the borhap solo outfits and the military jackets and everything else he does.

Brian may not be "fashionable" in the sense of being into fashion, following trends, etc. but he has always been extremely aware of how to follow the fashion in Queen specifically (and one day I'll write up that post about how Brian and Freddie continued wearing "costumes" onstage long past the point where Roger and John stopped....). it's really obvious when you look at Brian on the Magic Tour, where his stagewear is mostly just street clothes that vibe with what Roger and John are wearing, but he still pulls out those fabulous coats towards the end of the show to match the grandeur and spectacle that comes with a Queen finale.

Brian is clearly comfortable wearing tank tops in general but it's a very different matter for him to a) wear them publicly, where there will be photos and videos of it on the internet forever and b) wear them during a Queen show in 2023 when they match nothing else going on with his stagewear for this tour.

and I don't want to spend a lot of time on Point A because I am sick to fucking death of trying to get this fandom to understand that cracking "jokes" about the visible signs of natural aging (like the shoulder hair) isn't actually funny, especially when people are doing it on platforms that Brian himself is on like instagram

but with regards to Point B, like... there was just no reason for Brian to do this. there's no reason he couldn't have worn the Frank mask with the mirror ball suit, or if there was a reason he still could've worn an overshirt like he did when they had timing issues and he couldn't do his quick-change a few shows back.

but clearly Brian wanted to do this. he wanted THAT to be his Halloween costume specifically - not the mirror suit or his stagewear with a mask added, but a full outfit that was specifically unique for that moment in that show even if it was pulled from other clothing pieces he already had on hand.

it's a choice that, for about 20 seconds, made him completely visually different from anything anyone else had worn during that show. it's a choice that doesn't fully match Queen's aesthetic, either then or now, and it's a choice that's already generating some questionable "teasing" at his expense.

Brian has always had his physical appearance put under a microscope. from his height to his hair, the clogs to the unbuttoned shirts, by sheer virtue of the fact that he exists in the public eye Brian cannot wear anything without getting comments and critiques on it to some degree. and as he's aged those comments have naturally shifted to be about his aging - about his decision to dye or stop dyeing his hair, about how much skin he shows and how appealing the rest of the world finds that, how much body hair he now has and the small belly he's gained and everything else that comes along when you're a human being who's been alive for 70+ years.

but despite all of that, Brian wore that tank top on stage.

despite the dozens of reasons why this could have been a bad idea, despite the wildly varying opinions I've already seen, despite the aesthetic of Queen and this tour, despite the routine they already have for his outfit changes, despite the fact that this was always going to special because of the green lights and the Frank mask...

despite everything... Brian stripped down to that tank and stepped onto the raising platform without wearing any of his glam overshirts or special-made costumes, knowing that the thousands of people in that venue were waiting to get pictures and videos of that solo, and that he'd be opening himself up to very specific criticisms about his appearance by doing this.

and Brian was still confident enough, comfortable enough, in himself to do that during possible the highest-stakes moment in the entire show.

so yeah, I'm excited because there's new tank top content and I'm not above admitting that I personally find this sort of confidence very sexy even on a man of Brian's age

but I'm also just happy FOR Brian with this - happy that it went off without a hitch, happy that it has mostly been well-received by fans, happy that he seems to have had fun with it and, above all else, happy to see that any lingering self-doubts or body image issues aren't enough to stop him from giving us a moment like this.

[joestarkisser]

cw// incest - read on carefully 💌

Okay... incest with guilty F/Os is good.. but but.. Imagine incest with ENTHUSIASTIC F/Os. The type that go "yeah I'm fucking my own blood, pretty poggers" and leave it at that. Imagine you try to protest a little to your F/O as you are about to get intimate with them, the mood enhanced and the atmosphere as heavy as your breathing.. you claim you "can't" because "we're siblings/parent and child/cousins/etc!"

And they just hit you with the "and?"

They got no problem fucking their cute family member! So they don't see why you're worried. Who cares what the outside world thinks? They think their sibling/parent/child/cousin/etc is just the more adorable and sexy thing on Earth. Who can resist having a slice of you? Nobody, so who can blame them?

Even if they could be blamed, they really don't care. So why don't you show your family some love? They'd be honored to show it back. ❤

[uselessnbee]

ok but like the fall from the quarry before El saved Mike was so high like he didn't barely jump and then was immediately saved he fell a long way

just watching it is terrifying imagine how terrified Mike must have felt imagine him regretting jumping but knowing there's no way back and he could only watch as the ground neared as he neared his death like yes he was saved but that moment could have lasted a second and still be traumatising holy shit he was 12 im gonna throw up

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 165

warnings: a nsfw moment hmh masterlist

“Wanna go get a tattoo?”

You turn around and look at Tess from across the kitchen with your brow furrowed. She’s been antsy ever since you got back from the lake house this morning.

Since you’re meeting Akira and going to the hotel, you need some new clothes to wear. You can’t look like shit when you go to the hotel, and you certainly can’t look like shit when you meet her. You told John that you absolutely needed to go home early and had to do some shopping. He’s out with Ronan right now having a little daddy daughter day since you said you’d be busy.

“I have things to do today.”

Tess groans, “Like what?”

“I’m meeting the woman who showed up here the other day and we’re going to hotel, so I need some clothes.”

“Well,” Tess perks up, “We could go shopping, then I can get a tattoo.”

You laugh, “Why do you want a tattoo?”

“In Italy, you and Jimmy got tattoos, but I couldn’t because I was pregnant,” she gestures to her stomach, “I’m not now, so I want one.”

“And you can’t wait two days?”

Tess scoffs and looks at you like that’s the most offensive thing she’s ever heard, “No!”

“Okay, well, I will go with you but I’m not getting a tattoo.” you say, and Tess smirks, “I’m not!”

“Sure.”

You roll your eyes as you walk over to grab your purse, “I’m not!”

“Famous last words.”

__

Tess is currently talking to the tattoo artist and coming up with a tattoo idea. She wants something to do with Finn and Jimmy. Finn is a Leo, so she’s currently googling things connected to the zodiac sign other than a lion. You laugh a little thinking about her getting a huge lion tattooed on herself.

You feel your phone buzzing in your pocket, so you reach for it and press it to your ear when you see it’s John calling.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey, what are you up to?”

You take a deep breath and look around the tattoo shop, “I’m with Tess while she gets a tattoo.”

“What?” he laughs, “I was not expecting you to say that. Are you getting something too?”

“No,” you shake your head and grab the binder full of tattoos that artist has done. You flip through the get to the piercings, and you quickly close it when you see a pierced penis. “Oh, gross.”

“What?”

You set the binder aside, “There’s a penis in there.”

“What?”

“This binder has pictures of tattoos and piercings. Apparently they do penis piercings.” you say, and you can practically John audibly wince. “Yeah. Ouch. Anyway, are you home?”

John starts to answer when Ronan squeals loudly in the background, “I know, baby, we’re getting you a snack right now. Yes, peach, we’re home. I’m getting her a snack, then she’s going down for a nap. She’s kind of fussy today.”

“She didn’t sleep that great last night.”

“No, she did not.” he laughs, and you smile when you hear Ronan babbling to him, “Well, you’ll be home soon?”

You nod, “Yeah, I bought a few things, but I’ll need you to tell me what looks best--”

“Everything,” he says, a smile in his voice. “You look amazing in everything, my love.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, “I’ll be home in a little bit.”

“Okay. I love you. Have fun.”

“Thanks, I will. I love you too.”

After saying goodbye to him, you look down at your phone and smile when you see the picture of you, him, and Ronan as your wallpaper. You’re holding Ronan in your arms, and John is smiling as the two of you look at each other.

“Why are you cheesing at your phone?”

“No reason,” you shake your head and look up at Tess as she stares at you, “John told me to have fun. I don’t know, it’s stupid, but…he always does when I’m out with friends, and I just think it’s sweet.”

Tess laughs, “Yeah, because your ex would just call and pester you about when you were coming home, what was for dinner, if you were talking to other guys.”

“Yeah,” you smile, shrugging one shoulder, “Every day John takes me by surprise. He does something that just…shocks me. I know you’re probably trying not to laugh, but--”

“No, no,” Tess smiles softly, “It’s really cool how it’s been years but the love is still there and he’s still showing up for you in different ways. I feel the same way. It’s never a dull moment with Jimmy, and honestly as time goes on, he’s just getting sweeter.”

You smile, “So, you’re getting a tattoo for him?”

“For Finn,” she clarifies, and you start to laugh. “But there might be a little J tucked somewhere in the tattoo.”

“Adorable.”

Tess exhales as she looks around, “You gonna get a tattoo?”

You grab the binder of pictures again, “Uh, I think I have something in mind.”

__

John is smiling from the couch when you walk through the door, and he immediately gets up and helps you with the bags that you’re carrying--after he kisses you, of course. He sets them on the coffee table and turns around, wrapping his arms around you tight.

“Well, this is a nice welcome.” you say, the breath being squeezed out of you from his hug, “Not so tight, babe.”

“I missed you,” he whispers, tilting your head back, “We went three days without seeing each other or talking, then I only got you for one night before you ran off with Tess for the day.”

You laugh, “And whose fault was it that we didn’t talk for three days?”

“Oh, it was mine. I’m not saying it wasn’t.” he laughs, and you kiss him again before sitting on the couch. “Got a picture of Tess’ tattoo?”

You hold it up and show John, “It’s a bunch of sunflowers since that’s the flower for Leo--Finn’s zodiac sign. There’s a J tucked in there too for Jimmy.”

“It’s cool. I like the colors and the simplicity of it.” he says as he sits next to you. He wraps his arm around your waist and leans over to kiss your shoulder, “Any tattoos on you?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I do want another one, but none for today.”

John nods and looks down at his left hand, “I still need to get mine on my finger.”

“You still wanna do that?” you ask, and he nods. “So cute.”

“September 5th was a very special day,” he says softly as he leans over to kiss you. You turn more to deepen the kiss, and he pulls you closer to him. “When can I see those dresses?”

Resting your forehead against his, you start to laugh, “Before bed?”

“Sounds perfect,” he looks at you and smiles, and you furrow your brow when you hear the timer going off on the oven. “I’m making dinner.”

You inhale deeply the aroma of food that you hadn’t even noticed when you came in, and you look at John in wonder, “What are you making?”

“I went to the store and got some stuff to make beef stew.” he says, and you gasp before rushing off to the kitchen while he laughs. He comes in to find you leaning over the pot on the stove and taking deep breaths. “I tried a new recipe.”

“Can I try a bite?”

John nods and walks over to get a spoon. He scoops up a little bit and smiles as he feeds it to you. You close your eyes and dramatically lean over on the counter before shaking your head and looking at him.

“Good?”

“So good. My little chef!” you lean up and kiss him before stealing the spoon for another bite while he laughs. “You made so much.”

“Yeah, I thought I could bring some to mom and dad.” he says, and you close your eyes and smile with your back turned to him.

John’s love for your parents will never not make you feel weak in the knees. He always thinks about them and takes them into consideration. He genuinely really likes them, and they just adore him. He’ll send updates to your mom when you’re sick, he’ll send her pictures of you and Ronan, he’ll text your dad and ask him to go golfing; even though it’s not John’s favorite sport, he still does it because he knows having a good relationship with your parents is important.

“I bet they’ll love that,” you say, and he wraps his arms around you. “How much longer does this have?”

“It’s done…” he moves his lips up your neck to the spot behind your ear, “But it’d be nice to let it simmer for a bit.”

You move back into his arms and tilt your head, “Wanna entertain me for a bit?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Okay.” you laugh as you turn around, and John lifts you up, carrying you up to your bedroom.

__

“I like that one,” John says when you stand in front of him. “It looks really good on you.”

You turn around and look in the mirror, smoothing the dress down. You look through the mirror at John as he watches you, then you turn around and walk over to him. He slides his hands up your thighs and rests them on your ass, then he pulls you into his lap.

John gently tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, “You’re nervous.”

“I am,” you admit quietly, “I don’t know why.”

“Don’t be nervous.” he says, and you close your eyes when he runs his thumb along the apple of your cheek, “You have nothing to be nervous about.”

You whisper, “I just want to look good in front of them for you.”

“You don’t need to do that. What they think of you won’t change how I feel about you.” he smiles softly as he holds your hand, “You’re not some trophy wife that I’m parading around. You’re my partner. You are your own person. It’s nice to look good because it makes you feel good, but you don’t have to do it for anyone else, certainly not me.”

You scoff, “If I was wearing big baggy sweatpants, you’d still want me? Never mind, don’t answer.”

“You know I would.” he laughs, and you smile at him, “If you wanted to wear sweatpants tomorrow, I would be okay with that too. Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

“I like this dress.” you say as you get up to look at yourself in the mirror again, “I like the dark green color.”

John nods, “Me too. My favorite color too.”

You look over your shoulder and smile, “How strange.”

“Did you do that on purpose, peach?”

“Maybe,” you grin as he gets up and wraps his arms around you.

John moves your hair off your shoulders and smooths it down your back, “Still nervous?”

You nod, unable to find the words. John chuckles softly and places a gentle kiss on the nape of your neck. The warmth of his breath sends shivers down your spine, but it also calms you down. You take a deep breath and turn around to face him. His eyes are filled with nothing but love and adoration for you.

“Everything will be just fine,” he says quietly, and you nod. “I’ll be there the entire time. I won’t let you or Ro out of my sight.

“I know. It’s not that…” you say as you walk away, sighing a little, “I guess I’m just nervous for her to judge me or something.”

John tilts his head a little before walking over to you, “She won’t judge you. She already liked you and you spoke six words to her.”

“She probably was just saying that,” you say as John shakes his head, “I mean, do you really think she’d say to you that she hates me? No.”

“She didn’t hate you,” he laughs, holding you tight, “Trust me, sweetheart, she didn’t hate you.”

You look at him, “I’m still nervous.”

“And that’s okay,” he says, rubbing your back, “But I’ll be by your side the entire time. If you want to come to the bathroom with me, you can. I won’t leave you alone for a single second. I promise.”

“I trust you,” you hold his gaze, nodding your head, “I trust you.”

John cradles your chin and brings your lips to his, “Good.”

__

Your stomach is in knots as you sit in at a table and look down at Ronan playing with the few toys you brought for her. John is talking quietly with Charon right now to make sure everything is okay, but he keeps looking over at you. You’re in a room, which you assume must be Winston’s private quarters.

It’s not quite a den but not quite a tea room. He clearly eats his meals here though since there’s a large table that is probably 12 feet long and only had two chairs (one at each end) before Charon brought in so more--he told John that he made sure there were chairs but he apologized for not having a high chair for “Miss Ronan.”

Miss Ronan. How fucking adorable. Miss Ronan was so excited to see Charon--she’d never met him before but she just loves people. He held her and talked to her, and she flung her arm around, accidentally knocking his glasses askew. You and John both apologized, but Charon just laughed and fixed them.

“Mrs. Wick,” he says softly as he stands in front of you, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh, uh,” you shake your head a little and look over at John as he smiles, “Sure. I’ll just take some water.”

John laughs as he walks over, “Sweetheart, he’s asking if he can get you anything. Don’t get water.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone!”

Charon smiles, “It’s no inconvenience, ma’am. It’s my job.”

Which is not true. You know he’s not a waiter. He doesn’t need to wait on you.

“Two caramel lattes,” John says, and you smile bashfully when Charon looks at you. John glances at Ronan, “We have milk for her.”

With a nod of his head, Charon strides to the door and slips out. You let out a big breath and look over at John as he leans down to play with Ronan. He sits on the floor and grabs a toy of hers, making funny voices up to make her laugh. You walk over and kneel down next to them, and John smiles at you before squeezing your hand. Ronan stands up and claps her hands, then she reaches over and hugs John before sitting in his lap.

The door opens behind you, and you look over your shoulder as a waiter comes in with two lattes. He sets them on the table and keeps his eyes straight ahead, like he’s afraid to even look at John. It’s just too funny sometimes how John is this huge presence here.

John helps you up and kisses your cheek, then he keeps his hand wrapped around yours as you both walk to the table. He clinks his glass to yours and takes a sip of his drink, and you hum loudly.

“Best latte I’ve ever had.”

“Even better than the one I made for you last week?”

You smirk as you tap your straw to your lips, then you tilt your head, “No, that one was really good.”

“Kiss-ass.” John whispers, and I laugh.

Ronan toddles over and reaches up for your drink, but John scoops her into his arms and helps her drink some of her milk. You reach over and move her hair out of her face, then you step closer and rest against John’s shoulder.

“They’re taking a long time.”

“Winston is a busy man,” John says, and you nod, inhaling deeply, “He’ll be here soon.”

You exhale nervously and look up at John for some reassurance. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, leaning down to kiss you just as the door opens. You take a step back from John, as if you’ll be scolded by Winston or something, which makes John laugh.

“Jonathan,” Winston says as he walks over, reaching to shake his hand, “Look at this gorgeous woman here.”

You smile when he cups your face gently, his hands surprisingly soft and warm, “It’s nice to see you again.”

“A pleasure as always,” he says before turning to look at Ronan as she babbles, “And this little one has gotten so big since I saw her last.”

Ronan reaches over for Winston and smiles as he talks to her. She giggles and buries her face in his shoulder, and you smile and laugh as you look at John who is grinning from ear to ear with pride. Winston sets her down and smiles when she runs over to grab her toy. She picks up and runs back over to him, holding it up to show him.

“Oh, she’s so cute,” someone says from behind you, and you turn around to see Akira walking over. She kneels down and smiles, “Aren’t you darling? You look so much like your father.”

John looks over at you and smiles, “It’s the eyes. When she smiles--”

“She looks like her mother,” Akira says, looking up at you, “I can see it now.”

You take a deep breath and look at Akira as she stands up, “It’s nice to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” she smiles, then she looks at John, not quite bowing to him but tilting her head in a way of respect, “Mr. Wick.”

This makes you laugh. There’s so much respect for John here--you’re not laughing at that. You’re laughing at the fact that John is standing here in this perfectly tailored suit, surrounded by people who have no idea that he was having a tea party with his daughter just three hours ago, clips in his hair and everything. He has two sides to him, which you’ve been lucky enough to see, but there’s only one side that they get to see. It’s a bit of a shame really, that they’ll never truly know John. Maybe you’ll never truly know him. At the thought of that, you look down at your hands, turning over your ring on your finger.

What if you never truly know him?

“Yeah, she’s almost a year old,” John says, his warm touch bringing you out of your head, “It’s been a really good year--three years, really. But Ronan is getting bigger every day, and I hate to sound cliche, but I do hate it. She’s growing up too fast.”

Akira smiles as she watches Ronan, then she looks at you and John, “More kids for you two?”

“That’s up to her,” he says, gesturing to you. “I’d love more kids, but her pregnancy was rough, so it’s up to her.”

You shrug when Akira turns to you, “I just…had a subchorionic hemorrhage, so…”

“What’s that?” Winston asks, and you take a deep breath and look at him. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

John gestures for you to sit down on the couch, then he holds your hand and smiles when you look at him.

“Basically, um, the placenta detached from the uterine wall and the gap filled with blood, so I just bled out all this blood that was pooling there.” you say, and Winston nods, “It happened very early in the morning and freaked us both out. John was great though. He calmed me down a little and got us to the hospital. The hospital is about 15 minutes from us, and I think we got there in about seven minutes.”

John smiles when you start to laugh, “Probably six.”

“Probably,” you laugh quietly, then you look over at Akira and Winston, “I thought…I had lost her. I thought I had lost our baby, and John, well, I thought John would blame me. It’s my body, right? My one job while I’m pregnant is to make sure she’s safe. I thought he’d be upset with me. I finally gave him this thing that he really wanted and just like that, it was getting taken away. It wouldn’t be the first time this had happened to him,” you look over at John as he looks at you, and you let out a tearful laugh, “But he stayed right by my side, told me it wasn’t my fault--made me say it wasn’t my fault. He reassured me that he wasn’t going anymore, that the baby was fine. And just like that, all my doubts about him leaving just…melted away. He’s in it for life.”

John reaches up and wipes away the tear on your cheek, “She scared the shit out of me that night. Because from my point of view, my wife was bleeding out. When I looked at her, it wasn’t the baby, my first thought was my wife. I couldn’t lose her. I can’t live without her.”

“He’s dramatic,” you say, rolling your eyes and looking over at Winston, “Not sure where he gets it. Maybe I have a bit of an idea. Anyway, Ro was fine, I was fine. I was on bed rest for a few weeks but everything ended up being okay. I went on to give birth to a very healthy and chunky baby.”

“On our anniversary,” John adds, beaming with pride. “Pretty cool.”

Winston smiles when you look over at him, “This man loves you…immensely.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so wide, “I love him just as much.”

John takes your hand and holds it tight, then he lets go and wraps his arm around your waist, rubbing his thumb against your back as Winston begins to talk about something. You smile as you listen to him, but you look over at Akira as she watches you and John closely.

__

Ronan is currently sleeping with her face pressed against your chest, and you’re pretty stuck where you are. John has checked on you a few times to make sure you’re okay, but you’re perfect. He’s off talking with Charon and Winston, which is really nice for him. Akira was talking with him too, but now she’s making her way over to you.

“You must not able to get anything done,” she says, gesturing to Ronan.

“She usually doesn’t sleep on me,” you laugh, rubbing Ronan’s back, “She usually naps in her room, but if she does nap on someone, it’s John.”

Akira smiles, “He sounds like he’s a very good father.”

“He is,” you smile as you nod, “He, um, speaks very highly of your dad.”

“And my father spoke very highly of John,” she says, and you let out a small laugh, “I might not have been very fond of him when I first met him--in all honestly, I wanted to kill him when I saw him. I knew nothing good followed him. I now know that’s not true.”

You hold her gaze as she smiles softly at you, and you feel your cheeks warm. Ronan jolts herself awake and begins to cry on your chest, and you quickly try to calm her down but she’s crying out for her daddy. John hops up from the chair and comes over to get her, shushing her and calming her down.

“I’m right here, bug,” he whispers as he sits next to you on the couch, “Daddy is right here.”

Ronan cries and crawls over into his lap, and she sticks her thumb into her mouth and closes her eyes. She’s not a big thumb sucker, but every now and then, she’ll suck her thumb when she’s woken herself up from crying.

“She just missed her daddy,” you say, and John hugs her tight in his arms. You look over at Akira as she watches the two of them, her breathing getting a little heavy and her eyes growing glassy.

“Excuse me,” she says, getting up and quickly heading for the door.

__

John has gathered all of Ronan’s things and put them in the bag while you said your goodbyes to Charon and Winston. They have some things to take care of, so they need to head out, plus it’s getting late and John doesn’t think it’s the best idea to stay here much longer. The night usually brings in a different kind of crowd.

You give Winston and Charon a small wave as they head to the door, then you grab your coat and start to put it on before John practically slides across the floor to do it for you, which you’re grateful for since your body is killing you. He kisses your cheek and rubs your shoulders, then he grabs his suit jacket to put on.

“Akira must have left,” you say, and John nods. “I wonder if it was something I did.”

“It was probably me.” he says as you frown, “She’s still not my biggest fan.”

You walk over and fix his jacket, “Well, I’m your biggest fan.”

“I know you are,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you, “You’re my favorite fan too.”

Ronan calls out for you as she sits by the bags on the floor, and you walk over to pick her up just as the door opens. Akira smiles and shuts it before walking over to you.

“I wanted to say goodbye before you left,” she says, and you stand up, “I didn’t…mean to storm off earlier. It’s just…hard. Seeing John--anyone--with their daughter.”

“I get that,” you says, and she looks at you, “I didn’t grow up with a dad, so when I see Ronan and John together, I have to take a moment for myself too. I obviously didn’t lose my dad the way you did. My dad chose to leave. I can’t imagine how much you miss your dad, Akira, and I’m so sorry that you lost him. And trust me, John is sorry too.”

Akira inhales deeply and nods her head, blinking away tears, “I appreciate that.”

“Your father was one of my greatest friends,” John says as he walks up beside you, “You know how deeply I cared about him. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about him or wish things have ended differently.”

“My father cared for you as well,” she says, nodding her head, “He would be very happy for you, and he’d have loved both of the women in your life.”

You smile when John takes your hand, “I’m really glad that we got to meet.”

“Me as well.” she says, and you take her by surprise when you reach out to hug her. You’re sure she’s making a face since John let out a small laugh. She eventually wraps her arms around you too and squeezes lightly. “Take care of her, Mr. Wick. Both of them.”

John smiles, taking your hand again, “Trust me, I will.”

Akira’s phone beeps in her pocket, so she pulls it out and looks at it before swiftly tucking it away, “Again, it was lovely to properly meet you.”

“You too,” you smile as you look at her.

Akira reaches out to shake John’s hand, then she gives Ronan a smile and leans down to rub her plump cheek before she gets up and quickly leaves the room.

“What was that all about?” you ask, gesturing to her, “She left like the room was on fire.”

“She got a text,” he says, shrugging, “She’s off to work.”

You stand in front of him and hold his gaze, “Do you miss it?”

“Not one bit,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, “I’m going to go back to my amazing home with my beautiful wife and daughter, and we’re going to make some snacks and watch TV until we’re tired. I get to kiss both of my favorite people goodnight and fall asleep holding onto the most important person in my life. Why would I ever want anything else?”

“Is there maybe something else…you’d want tonight?”

John smiles, “If you’re asking if I want you, the answer is always yes.”

“We better get home then.”

__

“I can’t believe you didn’t get a tattoo,” John says as you come out of the bathroom. “I thought you wanted to get one.”

You sit on the bed and shrug, “We wanted to get one together, remember?”

“We still can, but I just thought you’d get one with Tess.”

Inhaling deeply, you shift on the bed so you’re kneeling in front of him, “Okay, so, I did get something, but it’s not what you think. It’s not a tattoo.”

John looks confused, “What else would you have gotten at a tattoo shop then?”

“You really wanna know?” you ask, and he nods his head, a smile spreading on his face. “Well, I was in the shop while Tess was getting her tattoo and I was like ‘what is something I really want to get other than a tattoo?’ I’ll be honest, I’ve always wanted this but I’ve never told anyone--other than Tess, of course. I just think they’re hot. So, I got one.”

“I am…so confused.”

You start to laugh, “I know you’ll immediately pounce when you see it, so please…don’t.”

“What?” John laughs, shaking his head, “You’re being so weird.”

You lean up to kiss John, then you sit back on your knees and pull your shirt up. John holds your gaze for a moment before his eyes drift down to your breasts. He smiles, still looking confused, until he notices the little silver piercing on your left nipple. His mouth drops open as he moves closer, reaching out to gently cup your breast.

“Yeah,” you start to laugh as your cheeks burn, “I don’t know, I just always wanted it. I thought it was so hot. If I hate it, I’ll just take it out and it’ll heal.”

John laughs, lightly brushing his thumb over your nipple, “This is…hot.”

“I thought so too,” you start to put your shirt down but John holds it up, still staring. “You like it?”

“Yes!” he laughs, leaning up to kiss you.

You bite your bottom lip as you smile, “It’ll take a few weeks to fully heal, so you definitely don’t want to…you know, kiss it or anything. It’ll just get infected, probably. But it’s not going anywhere.”

“Did it hurt?”

You exhale as you sit back to lean against the headboard, “Yes. It hurt like a bitch but the pain went away as soon as she was done with it. There’s just a really dull pain now.”

“That’s why you’ve been saying your body hurts,” he realizes, and you nod. “And why you wiggled out of my hugs earlier. Was I hurting you?”

“No, but when you hugged when I got home after I got it, you hugged me so hard, which in reality was probably just a regular hug, but it hurt a little bit,” you shrug as you look at him, then you lean over, brushing your lips against his, “You’ll just have to be extra careful with me for the next few weeks.”

John nods, then he pulls back, “That’s also why you wouldn’t let me take your shirt off while we had sex last night.”

He tried so hard but you kept pulling it down. Every time, he frowned and pouted, which was way hotter than it should have been. You finally pulled your shirt up on the right side so he could at least see that breast, but you immediately pulled it back down when his lips moved elsewhere.

“Yeah,” you start to laugh when he playfully shoves you, “I didn’t want you to know yet! I wanted it to look better. It was sore and red last night.”

“And you wouldn’t let me shower with you this morning.”

Laughing loudly, you pull him back to you, “I wanted to surprise you, and you were, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” he nods, pulling your shirt back up to look at it, “Can’t wait to get my mouth on it.”

John kisses you before leaning down and kissing all around your breast. He moves closer to it and looks up at you, and you start to laugh. He brushes his lips over it and you gasp softly, clutching at his shirt. When he moves, you see he’s grown hard in his pants, so you reach down and touch him before he plops down on the bed and pulls you over to him.

Pulling your shirt off, you toss it aside and position yourself in his lap as his hands grip your waist. He moves his left hand up your stomach and to your breast, lightly running his finger over your nipple.

“Fuck,” he says softly before leaning up to kiss your neck, “You’re so sexy.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as you lean back to look at him, “I’m glad you like it.”

John brushes his lips over your nipple, “I love it. It looks so good on you.”

“I already know that when it gets cooler, you’re going to lose your mind when you see it through my shirt.”

John nearly moans, “Fuck, I didn’t even think about that. Please never wear another bra again.”

You laugh as you push John back down on the bed, “I hope you’re free next weekend.”

“Why?”

“You have an appointment,” you say, and he grins as he reaches up to touch your breast, “Not with me.”

John furrows his brow, “Huh?”

“I set up an appointment for you,” you smile as you lean down to kiss him, “A penis piercing.”

“Hell no.” he laughs, and you smile, holding tight to him as he rolls on top of you, “No, I think this piercing is good for both of us. I don’t need one.”

You hum, tucking his hair behind his ear, “Okay.”

John pulls your pajamas shorts off and tosses them aside, then he quickly removes his boxers and moves closer to bury himself inside of you with one hard thrust and a grunt. You wrap your arms around his neck as the two of you kiss, and you begin to pant as he jerks his hips.

“Do you really want me to?” he asks, lips brushing against your collarbone.

“No,” you admit as he looks at you, “You do some damn fine work without one.”

John smirks as he leans closer to you, then he reaches over to your nightstand and pulls out your vibrator. He clicks it on and looks down at you, and you bite your lip and nod your head. As soon as he puts it between your legs, your body jolts and you let out a loud moan.

“Here,” he reaches for a pillow and hands it off to you, “You’re gonna need this.”

__

Not only is your boob killing you this morning, your whole body hurts, but thankfully John is already downstairs with Ro and has gotten breakfast started. You wander into the kitchen and rub your fist against your eye, and John smiles when he looks up.

“Good morning,” he smiles, walking over to kiss you, “Your hair is…a mess.”

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass of the oven door, then you turn to him, “Well, someone kept pulling it last night.”

“Because someone wanted me to,” he says, dipping you back as he kisses you. He cradles you in his arms and smiles, “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you reach up to cup his face, “Ready to hang out and do nothing.”

John grimaces as he stands up straight with you, “I made plans for us tonight. Jimmy and Tess too.”

“Okay?” you walk over and lean down to kiss the top of Ronan’s head while she eats, “And what are those plans?”

“Well,” he exhales, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms, “I think it’s time that we get our tattoos.”

You look over at him and smile, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. What do you say?”

Hopping up from the chair, you throw your arms around him and smile, “Yeah! I can’t wait!”

“Ronan is gonna get one too,” he says, reaching over to touch her chunky arm, “She’s getting ‘mom’ right on her bicep.”

“Oh, my goodness!” you say in your mom voice as you walk over to her, “Ro is gonna be so tough!”

Ronan giggles and scrunches her face up, making little grunting noises that cause you and John to laugh. You lean over and kiss her a few times, then you stand up and wrap your arms around John’s waist.

“No penis piercing for you though?”

“No,” he laughs quietly as he leans down to kiss you, “Just a tattoo for my favorite girls.”

You smile softly, “I still think you should get my face right on your chest.”

“It’s very tempting, peach,” he says as you walk over to get a plate of food, and he turns around to look at you. You look up at him as he looks down at your chest, and you smile. “I’m not over it.”

“I know.”

John smiles, “I think I’ll need to see it again tonight. I mean, just to make sure it’s healing.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” you say, nodding your head. “Absolutely, Doctor Wick.”

He barks out a laugh, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Maybe if it’s healed up more, you will be allowed to--”

John perks up, “I can?”

“Yeah,” you laugh when he rushes over to you, hugging you tight in his arms. “Had I known you’d want me this much because of a nipple piercing, I would have gotten one years ago.”

“You know I want you this much even without it,” he says, and you start to smile because it’s true. He pulls your shirt back a little and looks down it, then he smiles, “Making sure it’s still there.”

You laugh, “It’s not going anywhere.”

“Good.”

__

John is holding tight to your right hand as you squeeze your eyes shut. Tattoos certainly hurt. He was all tough getting his and didn’t even wince, but you have to admit, it was kind of hot. He was looking at some other tattoos and talking with the artist about something he might get in the future but for now he’s just settling for the small tattoo on his ring finger.

“Hey, how’s the piercing healing up?”

You look at the tattoo artist and smile, “Really well! John was a big fan of it.”

“Oh, I bet!” she grins at him.

John smiles smugly when you look at him, and you lean over to kiss him.

“Alright, you’re all set,” the tattoo artist says as she sits back, smiling, “Looks good.”

You hold up your hand and smile, “It’s gorgeous! Thank you!”

John holds up his hand next to yours, “They look great.”

“I love it,” you smile, then you look over at John and kiss him again.

“Hey, if you two ever get divorced, at least it still has meaning,” another customer says.

He obviously overheard you telling the artist earlier why you wanted 905 on your ring finger--September 5th for your anniversary and Ronan’s birthday. Since there’s no zero in Roman numerals, you settled for the numbers 905. You opted out of a year as well since it would take up too much space and obviously Ronan was born a different year than when you were married.

John shakes his head when you look at him, then he leans down, “Not happening.”

You walk with him over to where Jimmy is looking at his tattoo in the mirror. He decided to add onto his tattoo he got in Rome, and he got some color as well. The wolf is now surrounded by the most beautiful and colorful flowers. Tess smiles as she looks down at the little camera she got tattooed on her wrist, and you let out a small laugh when she grins at Jimmy.

“Alright,” John puts your jacket on when he gets done paying, then he kisses your cheek, “I think we need to get some food. I’m starving.”

When you step outside, you put your hand out for John to hold but you both frown when you realize you can’t hold hands with the bandages on them.

“We can’t link fingers.” you laugh, and he nods his head. “I got an idea.”

You wrap both your arms around his bicep and grin up at him as he leans down to kiss you. Resting your head against his shoulder, you walk down the street with him, trailing behind Jimmy and Tess as they sing obnoxiously.

John presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I love you so much. 905 is always going to be so important to me.”

“What if we divorce?”

“Not going to happen,” he says, stopping to turn to you, “The only way we’re getting divorced is if you divorce me.”

You laugh, “The only way we’re getting divorced is if you divorce me.”

“Not happening. You’re stuck with me for life.” he says, then he shakes his head, “People just say rude shit sometimes.”

“Oh, trust me, I know.”

John pulls you into his arms and leans in close to your face, “Mrs. Wick, I think we need to get some food in you. We have a date for tonight.”

You look over at Tess and Jimmy as they talk to each other, and you reach for John’s hand and place it on your breast. He lightly pinches your piercing through your shirt, and you smirk.

“Fuck, I want to suck on it so bad,” he nearly growls, and you laugh.

“I will allow that tonight,” you say, and he perks up. “I want your mouth on it too.”

John scoops you into his arms and practically runs down the sidewalk, “We gotta get food to go! I need to take her home now!”

You tilt your head back and laugh loudly, clinging onto John as he continues running down the sidewalk.

__

taglist:

@sakurachan-9 @beingnerdyissupercool @tnu-ree @ruby-octo@scream-queen-25 @ladyren33

[lostacelonnie]

while i think that kolosten arc REALLY improved biankas writing [bc, lets be honest, she didnt have That much going on for her before] [still loved her tho] sth i feel is Wrong in that arc and after it is. like. the way her dialogue is written? like the message in her dialogue is correct and in character but She Would Not Fucking Phrase It Like That. [tho a lot of characters suffer from that lately i think]. like. how do i say this. her Thing is that shes cool and composed and elegant but also Kinda Silly but. at the Same Time. whereas lately the writers seem to split her writing into like these two modes. the first in main story and the second in events which. it doesnt work like that. speaking of events a thing that Mildy Annoyed Me recently was that in meow town escapade, after susannah passed the first couple of her trials, bianka was eager to already jump into much more challenging training [and it was also previously mentioned that theresa previously scolded her for doing the same thing in General valkyrie exams] which like. do these panels mean Nothing to you

anyway i changed the topic so coming back to how her dialogue is phrased recently: shes using too many fancy words. like. bianka always expresses herself in a pretty simple way no matter if shes in the middle of the battle or like talking to someone in a supermarket!! thats how its meant to be!!

[bitseventimes]

Mac won't wear tampons because it's like losing your virginity and that's like totally not cool in the eyes of God

"umm you've totally slept with guys Mac what are you talking about?" no Den you don't get it because you're a slut. hand jobs don't count and also humping. and blow jobs "what about sex with girls Mac does that count?" well that's a sin........ but I guess I could say a couple hail marys before and after and that would make it okay probably..... I'm suddenly so dizzy why is it so hot in here

[lizthewriter]

okay, what do we think about spoiled!bratty!reader and bodyguard!hyunjin where reader's father gets yet another bodyguard for her - she's smart and witty, but still bratty and is always getting rid of her bodyguards by annoying the hell out of them, but hyunjin's too persistent.

first chap would feature gay bestie!changbin and reader trying to sneak out and go to the club without hyunjin.

[dubylou-draws]

Siblings

_________

(also welcome new followers!! There’s a whole 61 of us here now haha.  This is just a little hobby blog, but it makes me so happy to see people are enjoying my art :D )