#Helen Wick

[boredth]

Word is, he got out of the biz. For her.

[zimtlove]

The light of his life

( I haven't tried to draw Helen before and I'm generally bad at drawing women. I'm trying though.)

[johnwickb1tsch]

Okay but what if John x Y/N x Helen?

It's not a request, by the way. I just wanted to know your thoughts ❤️

My thoughts? I'm here for it @hollywoodshell . 😂

But that's such an interesting idea! And maybe tricky too! It's really hard to imagine someone catching John's eye while he's married to Helen though. You'd almost have to have a relationship with Helen BEFORE John, lol. Like...

-What iffff you shared an apartment with Helen? We know she was a photographer. Maybe you're an artist too. You're really good friends, you always just *clicked*. Sometimes you're more than friends too...🤭

-You're probably attracted to Helen for the same reasons John is. She's so kind and creative and such a light in the dark. You're poor AF but you still bring her daisies from the street stalls when you find them, just to see her smile.

-You meet John...when someone tries to steal Helen's camera and he stops them? Or Helen really wanted shots of this cool rundown building on the waterfront to complete a series, and you refuse to let her go alone, and it just happens to be a stash house for Viggo's enterprises, and John saves you from something bad happening?

-He'd be equal parts exasperated and amused. Who are these idiots? How do they not know where they are? Helen invites him over, because she's nice like that. And he's so enchanted he accepts, obviously, out of politeness and he feels like he’s been hit by a truck by the sparkle in her eye. You on the other hand are equal parts insanely attracted to this man and thinking you both might be about to get murdered. 😆

-You make dinner or order takeout. Your apartment is a bohemian mess/nest of your mutual artwork and plants and bric-a-brac you thrifted. You eat and talk and pour drinks, and John is kind of overwhelmed by the warmth in your little space. He is not used to people like Helen and you. You are not of his world. You see that this big man with the fathomless black eyes seems scary but he’s actually pretty sweet deep down, if not quiet. 

-Does Helen make the first move on John? I kind of feel like she does. She is cosmically attracted to this man. You see it happening right before you. You’re a little jealous–of John, not Helen–but maybe also resigned. It’s not like you’re going to stand in the way, if this is what she wants. You love her too much for that petty shit. 

-She knocks your socks off when she includes you, kissing you and John in turn. You exchange a look over her with this man. Maybe a moment of silent understanding. It feels like he is very careful with both of you, like his large hands are capable of terrible things if he does not watch himself closely. 

-Maybe this isn��t the first threesome you’ve had with Helen, but as you fall asleep cuddled together with John you feel like something momentous has happened. The earth has shifted, just a little. Nothing will be the same. You’re not sure if you like it. 

-You’re both surprised when John makes breakfast for the two of you. You wake up (waaay too early) to wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. You wonder if you’ll ever see him again, when he parts with a sweet kiss for both of you, and that sad look in his beautiful dark eyes. 

-Yet, when he shows up at your door with flowers for both of you a week later, that uncertain tightness in your chest relaxes a little. Maybe this thing could be something good for all of you? Maybe it’s worth a shot…

[evangelifloss]

write it for mi pls😔

Omg HI HELLO @kavalyera thank u for enabling me!!

In many John Wick circles and discussions, this scene is referenced either for its sincere intensity or for insane people like me, who simp over John Wick watching the light in a man's eyes fade away. However I haven't heard or seen anyone really analyse what this scene means in the context of the wider narrative, and John's 'Fall from Grace' (where he is pulled back into the world of assassins) or WHY this moment is so iconic for fans of the franchise.

To do that, let's refresh on has happened thus to our titular character, John Wick.

●He managed to escape the Assassin World against all odds to live a normal life with his Wife, Helen

●Helen Wick dies 5 years later, leaving him a puppy as a final gift. This is the starting point of the movie

●The puppy is murdered by Iosef Tarasov, his favorite car stolen, and his house smashed up

●He has managed to track Iosef down to the Red Circle Nightclub where there are many guards/assassins trying to keep Iosef safe.

In essence, John Wick hasn't worked as an assassin for 5 or so years and he's had a taste of civilian life but more importantly by staying OUT of the assassin business, no-one has come calling. Winston even warns him prior to his departure to the Red Circle about how risky it is to be hunting Iosef:

"You dip so much as a pinky back into this pond... you may well find something reaches out and drags you back into its depths"

The movie by this point has established two things;

1. John's need for revenge both as a genuine desire to kill Iosef and to cope with the grief over Helen's death

2. Exacting this revenge may very well (and later does) force him back into the assassin life he fought hard to escape from, making his efforts and sacrifices to get there for nothing.

Up until this point in the movie, you can argue that all the killings John Wick commits for his end goal were in self-defense (the kill squad sent to his house) or part of said end goal (Iosef's buddies in the washroom) but that is lost the second he is inside The Red Circle.

Here you are greeted with two quick kills of security guards that are only tied to Iosef via proxy of his father, which then leads into the scene I'm talking about. The third security guard, just like the other two, has nothing to do with John Wick. They did not break into his house, kill his dog and steal his car. Their only crime was that they went to their job that day and were obstacles placed in John Wick's warpath.

John Wick knows this.

It is in this moment, that the 'old' life he left behind looks at him through the eyes of the dying man and John can do nothing but stare back. One could argue that in this moment rather than John being unable to look away, he instead chooses not to. He HAS to watch this nameless man die for he knows that he will be one of many to come. John Wick does not shy from the gruesome truth before his eyes and faces it head on. He watches the light fade, and his past self revive in the same moment. A man's death gives life back to the Assassin 'Baba Yaga', a life that John the Man had chosen to kill in order to live as a husband to Helen. That is, until Helen dies.

This is one of if not the only scene where John is intimate with his kill. Even the framing, the lasting seconds given, allow the moment to breathe. It is a shot that does not occur again because doesn't need to. This single moment encapsulates John's full commitment to Assassin and everyone else (excluding assassins or characters he has history with) is as nameless as this man when it comes to fulfilling his goals.

At the same time, the physical sensations that come with fighting, overpowering and killing someone must be coursing through his veins. Even if he, at this point in time, still believes he can return to the quiet civilian life he built (despite the audience being aware that such a thing will not come to pass) his body does not recognise such a future belief and muscle memory is not to be underestimated. In this moment, his body HAS to be in the heightened state that comes with being an assassin. So he pauses. He takes a moment. To watch a man die. To feel his own body coursing with adrenaline and memory of all those years spent killing. He looks into the eyes of death and it asks

"Did you miss me?"

[persephone411]

A thing I noticed in the first John wick movie:

In the scene where Daisy wakes up John, he was hugging a pillow in his sleep. Maybe an old habit because he used to wrap his arms around Helen ?

[writinginatree]

Nightmare Time is Story Time

Relationship(s): John Wick & daughter!reader, Helen Wick & daughter!reader, background John Wick/Helen Wick

Summary: After a nightmare you sneak to the kitchen for a midnight-snack, trying your hardest not to wake your parents. Of course John and Helen wake up anyway, and remind you you're never too old to let them comfort you.

Warnings: Nightmares, anxiety (from the nightmare), like one swearword

You open the door of your room with shaking hands and slip into the dark hallway on bare feet, making sure to be as quiet as you can.

As you pass your parents' bedroom you hesitate for a moment. You could wake them. They wouldn't mind, you know that. And after the nightmare you just woke up from a warm hug would feel heavenly.

You sigh, and continue to the kitchen instead. After all you're not a little kid anymore, and you would feel like an idiot acting like one by waking your parents about something as silly as a nightmare. It wasn't even that bad, anyway. Or at least that's what you try to tell yourself.

But if you're honest, it kind of was.

You keep catching yourself eyeing every shadowy corner like you're expecting someone or something to come jumping out at you any second. You can't stop shaking, and it's only with a conscious effort that you manage to steady your rapid breathing.

Silly. It was just a stupid dream, and you refuse to wake your parents because of it.

Once in the kitchen you force yourself not to turn on the light; the dim moonlight falling in through the big windows is more than enough to find your way around. You drink a glass of water, still making sure to avoid any noise, and stare at the cabinet containing your stash of candy as you do so. A midnight snack certainly can't hurt. Who knows, maybe your blood sugar is low, and that's the reason your hands are shaking like that, and not the nightmare.

Yeah. That has to be it. No way you're shaking like a leaf just because of a stupid dream. You're too old for a nightmare to affect you like that. Too tough. Cool and collected, that's what you are, and not scared of anything at all. You think you already feel a little better after reminding yourself of that.

And either way some candy is sure to make you feel better. You decide on some nougat, and promptly start cursing at how loud the rustling of the wrapper sounds in the quiet of the sleeping house.

As you eat, you pace back and forth around the kitchen in hopes of getting all the nervous energy out of your system. Maybe you'll be able to go back to sleep if you just tire yourself out enough. In your current state going back to bed is unthinkable. Even now you still feel anxious and twitchy. Your heart has finally slowed to a normal pace, and your hands aren't shaking quite as bad anymore, but the images of your nightmare keep flashing before your eyes. Maybe watching some TV will help set your mind to rest... You could always watch Netflix on your phone in bed with headphones, that way you can be sure the sound won't wake John and Helen.

You nod to yourself, deciding that's exactly what you'll do, when your considerations are proven to be useless. The sound of footsteps coming closer makes it clear you've awakened your parents already.

After a few seconds Helen appears in the kitchen and turns on the light. She leans on the counter beside you with a tired smile, and asks, "Hey. What are you doing up?"

You shrug and try to seem nonchalant. "Just felt like having a snack."

The look Helen gives you tells you she sees right right through you, though she doesn't call you out on your lie. She just starts making you a cup of hot chocolate, and asks if you had a bad dream.

You nod, but don't elaborate.

You don't want to burden her with the horrors your imagination spat out. It's much too easy for you to imagine brutal bloodbaths, scenes like straight out of a horror movie — an unfortunate side effect of your father's old job, and the things you've seen because of it. But it doesn't bother you. Nightmares like that of tonight are surprisingly rare, and the past is behind you. You're over it, and you have no intention of putting such cruel images on your stepmother's mind.

Even if you wanted to tell Helen about your dream, you doubt you'd find the words to describe it, so when she asks if you want to talk about it you only shake your head.

Luckily she's very understanding, and doesn't press the subject. Instead she holds out her arms to offer you a hug, which you glady accept.

When she lets go of you again she asks, "Would you like to come sleep with us?"

You shrug. Going back to sleep might be a lot easier with the comfort of John and Helen's warm bodies beside you, the calm sounds of their breathing. Cuddles. Yeah, you sure could use some cuddles right now. But... "I'm too old for that."

"Nonsense. You're not too old for it if it'll make you feel better. You're never too old to let us be there for you."

"I don't know if I'll even be able to fall back asleep. I'd just be keeping you up."

"Do you want me to read you a story?" John asks, having silently come up behind you. "That always worked."

You flinch and whirl around to him. Normally you don't understand why Helen always scolds him for sneaking up like that — you have the same habit, and usually hear him coming anyway —, but tonight, with your nerves as on edge from the nightmare as they are, you get it. It really can be a little unnerving to have someone come up behind you out of nowhere like that. You don't say anything about it, though. Your reaction was fairly obvious, but that doesn't mean you have to admit he startled you.

Instead you sigh theatrically and complain, "Why did I even try so hard not to wake you guys up?"

"Because you're a very sweet and considerate girl," Helen says, handing you the hot chocolate.

You hop on the counter to sit while you drink it and think over John's offer to read to you. It's not even really a question — there's nothing you love more than having him read to you, even if you're technically way too old for it. The only question is what story you want to hear.

"Can you read me the one with the fox?"

Your dad smiles a little, as if he was expecting you'd ask for that story — which, considering it has always been one of your favorites, is probably the case. "Sure. Where do you have the book?"

"In the shelf opposite my bed."

He nods, and goes to get it, leaving you in the kitchen with Helen.

After a moment she nudges you to get up. "Come on, it's cold. You can finish your hot chocolate in bed."

As you jump down from the counter and your bare feet hit the floor, you have to agree with her — the floor is fucking freezing.

Quickly heading for your parents' bedroom, you slip under the warm covers. Helen settles next to you, just as John enters the room, too. You bury your face against your mother's shoulder and groan when you see what he has in his hand.

"Daaad! I'm not a baby!"

John ignores your whining and sets the ragged old teddy bear down on your legs so it's facing you, before getting comfortable on your other side, so you're between him and Helen.

"I don't need a teddy anymore!"

"He looked lonely sitting on your bed like that," John claims, opening your storybook.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Helen smile, and can't help but smile a little yourself. Despite your protests you take the bear and clutch it to your chest, facing forward so it can see the book too, as you cuddle up close to your dad. Not because you need the teddy or anything, of course. But since it's already here it would be a shame not to cuddle it. And, though you would deny it should anyone ever suggest it, the familiar softness of it's fur against your skin does have a strangely soothing effect on you.

You decide to ignore the smile on your father's face when he glances down to see you holding the bear. And if you hold the cup of hot chocolate to it's face so it can take a sip too, then that's merely an old habit brought back by how much your parents are treating you like a child right now, and certainly not a conscious decision.

[live-with-love]

Official John Wick Major Arcana tarot cards featuring Chapter 4 characters

Art by Julien Rico Jr, in collaboration with Lionsgate.

Sources: nerdsloveart, behance

Image descriptions below the cut:

[Start ID: 22 images featuring characters and locations from the movie "John Wick: Chapter 4" as Major Arcana tarot cards. The drawings are in black and white against a sandy beige background, and has plenty of circle motives. Roman numerals are at the top, their corresponding card title at the bottom, and the movie title "John Wick: Chapter 4" on the bottom left margin.

0: The number zero, or unnumbered, tarot card features Killa Harkan played by Scott Adkins as "The Fool". Killa is holding a 2 of spades between two fingers while giving a smug smile that shows off his set of golden teeth. He wears a ring on his right hand and the other hand is holding a stack of cards. Behind Killa is a minimalistic design resembling a casino token with details such as the diamond and clover symbols, as well as the numbers on the dice. In front of Killa is a table with two piling stacks of casino tokens, a gun, and the shadow of John Wick's head looming over a large portion of the table.

1: The number one tarot card features The Tracker or Mr. Nobody played by Shamier Anderson as "The Magician". Mr. Nobody has a smug expression on his face and is holding his rifle in a way that lets it rest slung over his shoulder. By his side is Mr. Nobody's Belgian Malinois. The backdrop consists of simplistic, grayish graphics of map vectors cropped into several circles of different sizes. There is a white-coloured infinity symbol on top of Mr. Nobody's head.

2: The number two tarot card features Rooney, aka The Ballerina, who first appeared in "John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum", as "The High Priestess". Rooney's back is facing towards us as she's performing a ballet move on a circular stage. Rooney is wearing a white crown and a dress that shows the cross tattoo on her back. In the backdrop, where Rooney's face is looking towards, are curtains with the initials "JW" written on the far ends of the frame.

3: The number three tarot card features Katia played by Natalia Tena as "The Empress". With a cool expression on her face, Katia is leaning forward against a set of railings, giving off a domineering aura. Katia is wearing a metallic necklace and a cross on her neck. Behind Katia is the crest of the Ruska Roma and a line in Russian circling around it.

4: The number four tarot card features The Bowery King played by Laurence Fishburne as "The Emperor". The Bowery King is sitting on a throne, but behind him is a pair of eyes staring menacingly at us. In front of him is a logo design with the same pair of eyes, though rendered smaller and appear less menacing, with an X crossed in between and a horizontal line capping the top of the X. At the Bowery King's feet, a few pigeons are shown in the foreground while the Brooklyn Bridge appear in the background.

5: The number five tarot card features The Elder as "The Hierophant". Behind the Elder is an Islamic floral design which extends into a more geometrical pattern. Standing in the background are two of the Elder's men.

6: The number six tarot card features John and Helen Wick, played by Keanu Reeves and Bridget Moynahan, as "The Lovers". John and Helen are smiling brightly towards each other in front of a New York night cityscape backdrop, with the Empire States building separating them at the centre. Above John and Helen is a silhouette of them pressed against each other about to kiss in front of a bright sun with the Brooklyn bridge in the background.

7: The number seven tarot card features John Wick driving his 1971 Plymouth Barracuda as "The Chariot". There is a bullet mark on the front glass pane of John Wick's car. On top is a closeup of John Wick surrounded by a circle of road markings and bullet marks.

8: The number eight tarot card features Charon played by Lance Reddick as "Strength". On top of Charon's head is the infinity symbol, and behind is a design reminiscent of a timepiece neatly decorated with knives, guns and bullets in a circle. Further behind is a faded image of the reverse side of the Gold Coin. Filling the bottom of the frame is the New York cityscape backdrop illuminated by the sun.

9: The number nine tarot card features Caine played by Donnie Yen as "The Hermit". Caine wears sunglasses and is holding a cane in his left hand and a pistol in his right. Caine's head is illuminated by a circle of bright light, which is surrounded by a dimmer, slightly bigger circle with Japanese wave patterns and then large protruding rays of black. In the backdrop are two winding trees along with a city landscape of Osaka, but they are overshadowed by Caine's black rays.

10: The number ten tarot card features L’Arc de Triomphe as "The Wheel of Fortune". The location is illustrated in such a way that looks like a clock, with the monument at the centre and twelve roads leading towards it. Surrounding the Arc de Triomphe are the letters from John Wick's name arranged in the exact order of north-west, north-east, south-west, south-east, west, north, east and south directions.

11: The number eleven tarot card features The Harbinger played by Clancy Brown as "Justice". The whole illustration is framed as if the Harbinger is contained inside an hourglass, with a half-body portrait of the Harbinger at the top and a full-body silhouette of him forming at the bottom from the sand flowing downwards. Behind the Harbinger's portrait is the Latin quote, "si vis pacem, para bellum", whereas next to the Harbinger's silhouette is a crescent moon. Along the sides of the hourglass outside are two duel pistols facing opposite directions on each side.

12: The number twelve tarot card features Koji Shimazu played by Hiroyuki Sanada as "The Hanged Man". Except for his feet, Koji is portrayed as an vertically-inverted reflection of himself on a pool of water. Koji is holding a katana and his head is surrounded by a circle of dim light and a brighter, slightly larger circle made of Japanese wave patterns. As seen in the reflection, behind him are cherry blossom trees and the Osaka city landscape.

13: The number thirteen tarot card features John Wick, aka the Baba Yaga, played by Keanu Reeves as "Death". John Wick is holding a pair of nunchucks in his right hand. Behind John Wick is a city landscape of Osaka lighted by the moon while his head is surrounded by a row of skull pictograms and two rows of bullets. There is also an faded image of the reverse side of the Gold Coin behind John Wick.

14: The number fourteen tarot card features Winston played by Ian McShane as "Temperance". Winston is holding up a wine glass with a capital C labelled on it, and there are multiple swords projecting from his back like wings. Behind Winston is the hotel name "Continental" and numerous halos of various fonts and patterns, along with the cityscape of New York, with the Statue of Liberty and the Empire States building in sight.

15: The number fifteen tarot card features The Marquis, Vincent Bisset de Gramont, played by Bill Skarsgård as "The Devil". Behind the Marquis is his signature emblem with two black knives crossed behind his head. The emblem is surrounded by two rows of knives. In the background is the night cityscape of Paris with the Eiffel Tower in view, illuminated by a moon that is surrounded by a snake or serpent that's chasing its own tail.

16: The number sixteen tarot card features the New York Continental Hotel as "The Tower". The top floors of the Continental Hotel are being set on fire as the small dark silhouette of John Wick and the debris carried along fall from its rooftop.

17: The number seventeen tarot card features Akira played by Rina Sawayama as "The Star". Illuminating behind Akira is a star resembling a six-pointed shuriken with two Japanese stork paintings on its left and right, which is further surrounded by a circle of alternating arrow fletchings and four-pointed shuriken. Akira is holding a bow and arrow and standing tall as the bodies of two men lie dead around her. In the background are the branches of cherry blossom trees and the sun or moon shining behind Akira.

18: The number eighteen tarot card features John Wick's and Mr. Nobody's dogs as "The Moon". The two dogs are staring up at the crescent moon, which is shaped as if John Wick's head is covering portions of the full moon. Surrounding the crescent moon are small stars and a illustration of the cycle of the moon phases. The two dogs are sitting on a road leading into an ambiguous city landscape in the background.

19: The number nineteen tarot card features the Sacré-Coeur as "The Sun". The rays of the sun spread out far and wide as wisps of clouds drifts behind the giant church. A dark silhouette of John Wick can be seen on the top open window of the Sacré-Coeur.

20: The number twenty tarot card features Chidi played by Marko Zaror as "Judgement". Behind Chidi is the emblem of the Marquis with a black knife cutting across behind his head. Below Chidi are the High Table's heavily armoured soldiers who are backdropped by a big splatter of sandy beige.

21: The number twenty-one tarot card features John Wick as "The World". John Wick's back is facing towards us with his head glancing back, showing us his face. Overlayed on top of him is his surname "Wick" with the "I" replaced by a bright silhouette of a walking John Wick. A circle of bullets surrounds John Wick and bullet marks scatter around him as the emblems of the High Table, the Marquis, the Adjudicator, and the Gold Coin fill all four corners of the frame.

./End ID]

[takiki16]

Was watching Coyote Ugly and Bridget Moynahan, who plays Helen Wick, is in it. So now, I fully accept this movie as her origin story. x)

YOU. YES. THIS VIBES. IT FUCKS, EVEN. YEAH.

Loud, proud, angry early 00's fashion Helen, yelling snarky comebacks at her regulars and doing bartender juggling tricks with bottles that would never be allowed past the door of Continental. Helen, dancing on the bar top, emptying a bucket of icy water over her head and absolutely soaking John because he's staring like a fucking creep right up against the bar, horribly out of place and horribly in love. Helen, working the floor and picking up tips, striding boldly up to their nightly fancy suit creep and grabbing a hunk of his hair to pull his face down into the boobs he's been trying not to stare at all night. She waves a pair of scissors teasingly at the hooting night rush crowd, and feels the flinch of hard muscle beneath her hands as the guy puts his hands - not on her ass, but back on his knees.

Helen, after a long shift, standing in a ratty leather jacket outside the cafe as the fancy suit creep awkwardly tries to put the moves on her. She slips a hand into her bag for the brass knuckles her PO definitely doesn't know about.

"Look, dickbag," she says roughly as the guy just keeps staring. "I don't know what you think you're entitled to, but I can and will fuck you up. Move along, this doesn't have to get personal."

"Sorry," says the guy even more awkwardly. "I picked a bad time. I'm not very good at this."

"No shit," snaps Helen. "Now beat it, or I'll tell Romero to call the cops."

"Please don't do that," says Creepy Suit. He doesn't look scared, but the puppy eyes don't go away. Puppy eyes. Zoe would love him. Cammie would eat him alive. "If you don't want to see me again, I'll go."

Helen considers. Despite the creepy stare, the guy isn't bad-looking. Might even be cute, if he dropped the funeral director attitude. He's got an expensive suit on, as well as classy shoes and a watch that Helen knows she could hock for a nice handful of cash right around the corner. He clearly has a thing for her. Probably a repressed stockbroker from north of Midtown whose stuck-up wife wouldn't blow him. Worth at least a couple bills for her - maybe even a grand, if she played him right. If he got weird, she could kick his ass and send him on his way.

How dangerous could he be?

"I didn't say that," Helen says, and smiles. Cocks a hip. Lets him know that she sees him looking. Or not looking, whatever. He really is adorable. "Didn't catch your name."

"John," says Creepy Suit, and it turns out he can smile. "John Wick."

[discoscoob]

I’m watching Coyote Ugly and it’s funny to pretend this is what Helen was getting up to before she met John Wick. Her character needed anger management classes, now I can imagine is her losing her temper with some Russian mafia boss that no one else has the balls to stand up to 😂

[boredth]

Let's go home

[marquisedegramont]

sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

SUMMARY: The day before Helen is expected to die. John grapples with grief and the torment of losing someone he cares.

grief/mourning, character study, handling grief

read on ao3 | inspired by sunlight | 456 wc

THE DAY BEFORE Helen is expected to die.

(God. Please don’t take her.)

Maybe John deserves nothing. Maybe he was put on this earth for the simple reason to suffer because why should he live perfectly? Why be given the pleasure of human life?

A day in the cold house, John is alone—so alone; he can feel each pulse of his heart thrum from within his rib cage. Helen is gone, but maybe, just maybe, she has a chance.

Helen has turned him optimistic. She is everything opposite to him, she is everything the Director condemned, she is sunlight, she is the sun, she is the soft breeze in the morning, she is the light bells of local cafe doors opening chiming, she is everything. She is brimming with life. She will be buried.

Sometimes, John silently prays.

(God, please don’t take her. Not her. Please. God, please, don’t take her from this earth, please, please, please just don’t take her. He wonders if his desperate pleas to God and heaven above are even taken into consideration. Or even heard. Or maybe God never really cared for him. Maybe God has abandoned him and he’s suffering because of it.)

How human it is to finally feel suffering. John sits at the edge of the bed, and there is already grief piling up in him. This is the world around him, so grey and unfortunate—dim and miserable. The sunlight outside doesn’t seem so bright anymore. The sun is gone.

What sin as he committed for God to take her but not him? John sits at the edge of the bed, wearing a mangled expression of grief and tragedy, and hope and wishing, and begging and pleading, and distraught and anger. Anger pointed to God. Anger pointed to himself.

His phone is in his hands, everything in life feels disgustingly hollow. There was a time in John’s life—Helen—where everything felt fulfilling. He watches the videos of her in his phone, journaling through pictures and videos because he never could quite write his conflicting thoughts into words. Helen could, she seemed to be so poetic, words so beautifully sounded and written it made her seem otherworldly.

“What are you doing, John?” Helen’s voice is soft with the sea gently running along the beach, sea foam touching the tips of both of their feet.

John wants to go back here.

“Looking at you.” John wants to look at her again, outside, not chained to a hospital bed. He had everything. He was close to it. He was so close to heaven and yet he fell, and he fell hard.

(God, do you hear me? God, please don’t take her so soon. What did I do for you to take her?)

Maybe this is why she taught pain so harshly.

[johnwickb1tsch]

picture of domesticity ~ john x wife!reader fix it imagine

So... what if you were married to John Wick and the writers didn't kill you off just to give the male protagonist the excuse to go on a rampage? And everything John goes through in the movies is so he can come home to you, rather than agonize in just the memory of you?

You're in the car with your new puppy Daisy on your lap when Iosef proposes to buy the 'Stang. John does not like it when he leans in the window, leering at you as much as the car. You don't understand the exchange the men have over your head, though you understand John's body language all too well.

When the creepy boy goes you turn to your husband, hugging Daisy to you. 'It's so hot when you speak Russian," you say, trying to lighten the tension in the car.

He looks at you with an eyebrow raised, the corner of his mouth ticking up despite himself. You've always had that effect on your so- serious husband.

"What did you say?" you ask.

"I called him a bitch."

You giggle, scratching Daisy's ears. "John!"

"What? He said it first."

You sigh and reach over to take John's hand, feeling the tension thrumming down his arm. Usually you can calm him down with just a touch, but this time he remains wound as a spring. You have just been for a drive in the country. 'Let's go home, baby."

He does not calm down when you get home either, though. He is quiet in his agitation. But you know his every tell by now, and you know something isn't right.

He disappears into the basement for a little while. When he returns, he doesn't smell like book glue, but something more chemical.

Gun oil, you realize.

It's been a long time.

"Is everything OK?"

Now you are beginning to worry.

"I'm sure it's fine," he says, opening his arms to you. You snuggle on the couch with Daisy for the rest of the afternoon.

When you wake to the sound of a crash downstairs you almost are not surprised. John's side of the bed is empty. Daisy tries to dash away towards the ruckus, but you secure her in the closet, but not before withdrawing your Beretta 9mm from the jewelry safe.

It was a wedding present.

By the time you descend the stairs, the intruders have been rendered into corpses. John stands in the kitchen with a blood spattered face, looking feral. It catches your breath in your throat.

You are not half as horrified as you should be.

You have not seen that suit in a long time.

Only later do you find out it was the son of your husband's old associate, Viggo Tarasov.

John says the matter is closed, but you aren't so sure.

When a beautifully dressed Italian with impeccable manners appears at your door, your heart falls to your feet, and you just know they are going to try to take him from you again...

[ohwolfling]

Daisy, the painfully adorable beagle puppy, arrives with a final letter from Helen, “Now that I have found my peace, find yours.” And John seeks to do just that. This is what sets John aside from other action protagonists and their dead wives. Emotion isn’t traded for empty virility. We are steeped in John’s grief. Audiences come to know Helen through John’s memories and the photos, videos, and various items that remind him of her. John Wick is a certified wife guy in Helen’s life and her death.

from The New ‘John Wick’ Documentary Reveals That the Franchise Was Nearly Ruined by a Pesky Studio Note by yours truly

[xhollowfaerie]

silverv drabbles #8

a/n: here it is... no beta because my partner is asleep and I'm too excited to just post this so we die like John(ny) m*n. (edit: has now been proofread + reposted bc I think it bugged.) I really like how it came out, I hope y'all enjoy!! Dean Winchester definitely came through in this, but they're basically the same dude tbh

tags: John Cyberpunk gets isekaied into John Wick, a tiny bit of spice, angst, fluff. alternate title, You're in Love by Ratt.

- Heat of the Moment. ("Dude, no Asia." "I know, this station sucks.")

Johnny woke up with a gasp, feeling the cold sweat cling to his skin like sleet. The whiteness of his surroundings temporarily blinded him, blocking out the sunlight with a hand as he straightened himself up on the bed. 

“John?”

His eyes shot open at the unusual use of his name, given the familiarity of the voice. It sent the biggest wave of comfort through him as his heart began to slow the urgency of its beats. “Valerie?” A sweet laugh echoed in reply as Johnny’s surroundings slowly took shape, a most familiar yet strange feeling sinking into him.

Her hands slowly reached up to cup his cheek, lovingly running her thumb across his skin. “How did you know? I never told you what my godparents wanted to name me.”

Johnny’s mouth parted in shock, but no words managed to escape. He stared at her, dumbfounded.

He'd never seen V with her natural hair color, not as an adult; only in some of her oldest memories. She was dressed in a white, modest nightgown - tsk, it felt off; she never wore white- and her skin bore none of her scars or cyberware, but still had every one of her freckles.

He would know.

Rays of sun embraced her in an intimate warmth, and the words he spoke felt so natural, as if he'd said them a million times.

“You're so beautiful” Johnny breathed, relishing in the high of finally admitting what he'd thought so many times. Stupid, he knew. Stupid not to tell her sooner. Stupid, to act like he hasn't considered, more than once, that maybe she was his guardian angel. If such a thing existed, she definitely looked the part. Felt the part.

She giggled and inched closer, surprising him with the gentlest kiss he'd ever experienced - and Johnny had experienced quite an interesting catalogue of smooches in his lifetime. 

“Every morning, without fail… What have I done to deserve you?”

Johnny felt like he could melt into her; he pulled her closer, feeling her leg wrap around him as he kissed her, eager to taste the honey dripping off her voice. But… he didn't know how to be careful. His kiss was hungry, desperate - whatever the fuck was happening, he knew - it felt so wrong. A crippling feeling of dread and displacement was crawling its way up his gut. But, fuck, was he really not allowed a single moment of peace?

She moaned into his mouth, running her hands through his hair - his V, barely ever so gentle and loving, the Valerie the world would have been allowed to witness, had they been dealt different cards. Had they been born in another world, another universe, maybe. 

Maybe in this one, he could do things right, for once.

“I love you” he blurted in a gust of passion, even scaring himself. The confession came to him much too easily, but didn’t feel like it belonged in his mouth. He broke their kiss to move his lips to her neck, heart pounding in his chest. Although his hands were always rough, this time, he felt himself trying his damndest to show her how much she meant to him, so desperate to let her know. He'd thought those words before, sure. About Alt. About Rogue. About Kerry. But he'd never- fucking idiot!- never spoken them when he should have. When it mattered the most.

If he was dead, which he was strongly starting to suspect, he'd want her to know, almost- no, more than even his desire for revenge. 

Johnny wasn't too surprised. He'd always imagined plenty of women in his rendition of heaven - if he ever went, highly unlikely - but he'd never dared to picture V like this. He also never thought his heaven would be severely lacking this much booze and hard rock.

She giggled again and ran her hands over his arms, panting softly with pleasure as he explored her body. “As do I, John- I love you-” 

His lips reached further down her chest, earning a whine as he lovingly sucked and bit into her. What was up with him? It was so unlike John to be so wound up… The doctors had warned them, and he’d heeded their instructions to a T, rigorously following every precaution, but she'd missed his touch so terribly, and this time, it was electrifying - charged with a much different energy than she was used to, while still oddly familiar. This John was turbulent, chaotic, so eager to exteriorize his lust. It was a stark contrast to his usually calm, reserved self, but she adored him for it all the same. “I love you-” calling her Valerie, craving her so shamelessly… she blushed, curling her toes as his hands slid between her legs - she’d never seen this brash side to him, but there was something inside her that immediately fell for him all over again - “John- I love you, I love you-!”

Her grip on him tightened, but in a way that made his stomach drop ten feet below as her sudden coughing fit reeled him out of his reverie. He gently stopped everything he was doing, feeling a debilitating wave of panic course through him.

“Val? Hey, hey, hey, shhh, I got you, I'm here.”

She weakly smiled up at him through the stabbing pain in her chest. “What's with you today, John? You're acting strange.” Johnny didn't know what to say. He held her and stroked her hair, squeezing her hand in his. “...I don't know. I'm sorry.” “Don't apologize. I love every side of you.”

They held each other for what Johnny wished had been much, much longer than a few minutes, feeling his heart grow dangerously fond of… whatever this was. Wasn't he supposed to not follow the light? Well, shit. If this was heaven… he was glad he was dead. Free. He'd always been a selfish bastard, after all - never even thought he’d end up here, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, despite his instincts screaming otherwise. She always told him he was way too paranoid. His V.

“Was it the same nightmare again? I'm sorry to remind you…” she whispered into the crook of his neck, closing her eyes with a soft sigh as he rubbed her back. “You can talk to me about it, but only if you want to.” He pressed a kiss to V’s forehead, taking in a deep breath. “You were… real sick” he recalled the moment right before he passed out, trying to comfort her after a particularly bad Relic malfunction, when, truthfully, he was shitting himself with fear just as much. “Thought I'd lost you.”

He felt a few drops of moisture on his skin before his eyes widened. “What's wrong?” She shook her head and buried her face in his chest, whimpering as she clung to him as strongly as she could - which… wasn't very. “I'm so sorry, John. I'm trying to fight it. I'm trying my best.”

Johnny felt his heart tear itself in half - maybe a leftover sort of phantom sensation from Adam Smasher. Looking around, he finally noticed the stack of pills on the bedside table, the wheelchair and the IV stand. He caught the shine of the ring on his finger - wait, he never wore a ring on his - oh, no, no, no…

This wasn't no fuckin’ heaven. It was his own personal hell.

Having to watch V succumb to her sickness. Again. Because of him. A seemingly, shockingly non-fucked up version of them - except he’d still get her killed, in the end. His arms - both organic - held her so gingerly, like he was horrified to break her.

“No, Val, I'm - I’m sorry. But we'll fight this thing together, I swear.” “John… when I'm gone-” “No. You're here. With me. And I’m never letting go.” She let his love ease her worries away, like it did every time. “I love you, John.” “I love you, too, Valerie, with every damn fiber of my being.” And I’ll fuckin’ wrestle Death itself with my bare hands if it even tried to do us part.

After they both dozed off for a while longer in each other’s arms, Johnny helped her take her medicine and get out of bed. With a sour taste in his mouth, he realized that he'd pushed her physical condition earlier with his stupid, selfish desire. 

She was fine to stand on her own, holding onto his arm as they made their way to the kitchen. He couldn't stop staring at her - but the more he did, the more disillusioned he became. She started to look more like his V when they’d first met, and even before that, like Agent V of Arasaka. The bags under her eyes, the hollows of her cheeks. 

But he knew. He’d felt it in his bones. It was so tangible when he kissed her - in his maddening hunger to make love to her - as much as he wanted or hated for it to be true, that wasn’t his V.

She took a seat at the kitchen table after putting a kettle on, and Johnny allowed himself a moment to take in his surroundings. It was very clear this wasn’t Night City - hell, wasn’t even 2077. His eyes landed on a picture of - holy shit, he hadn’t dared to look in a mirror yet, but it really did look just like him - a clean, rich, put-together version of him, at least, both him and V beaming up at him from their wedding photo. As much as it warmed his heart, it also felt like something shocked him to his core when he tried to pick the frame up, quickly setting it back down. Okay. Maybe he shouldn’t be obsessively staring at their bizarro doppelgangers. 

He rubbed his face with both hands, exhaling loudly. “This is insane” Johnny muttered, gazing through the window at the car parked outside. Really? A Mustang? He huffed with a hint of envy. This guy seems like a pretentious douche, other than bein’ the world’s greatest husband or whatever. His eyes landed on a wedding invitation, wide in horror.

Helen and John, 09/15/2009.

He felt like he was going to throw up as a prior conversation with V played out in his head, the kettle whistling at them off the stove.

“Alright, I gotta ask.” “Y’know, I really don’t think you do.” “What’s your middle name?” She’d already seen his full name at the Columbarium. Well, not that he considered it his anymore.

V pondered for a moment, narrowing her eyes at him. “Fine, I’ll bite. Don’t have one, but they were gonna name me Helen, after Helen of Troy. Mom wanted it to sound more like her name, so they went with Valerie instead.”

Johnny dropped to the couch with his hands still holding onto his head, letting out a shaky breath. “Christ.”

“John? Are you okay?”

Helen’s gorgeous visage met his eyes as she knelt in front of him, lifting his face with her hands, checking his temperature. “Oh, you’re burning up, angel!” Johnny longed so terribly to kiss her again, to feel her atop his chest for days, to have a million, trillion, infinite late mornings like this one. To tell her she was his angel. But that wasn’t his wife. Fuck - she didn’t even know ‘im, he had no right. And god damn it, did this fuckin’ guy’s name really have to be John? It made this so much harder than it should be.

He placed a hand over hers with a bittersweet feeling. “I’ll be fine, Helen. Just got dizzy for a sec.”

She let out a small sigh of relief. “Ah, there he is! My sweet husband. I was really starting to worry.” Helen sealed their lips with another kiss that he no longer had the courage to return, letting her take his hand and lead him to the kitchen table. “Tea?” “Sure, in a sec. I… gotta wash my face.” “Don’t be long, I’m making your favorite! Eggs and toast.” Eggs and toast? Really? This fuckin’ guy… he couldn’t be more vanilla if he tried. “Mmm, sounds delicious, thanks.” He wanted to call her honey, baby, a pet name, anything - but his throat dried up at the thought. “Don’t mention it, my love.”

Johnny wandered through the house, taking note of all the little mementos of their love. The more he witnessed, the worse his nausea got, finally opening the right door that led him to a simple yet opulent bathroom. He turned the faucet on, gripping the sink; when his eyes darted upwards, someone else was staring back at him with a murderous intensity that scared him shitless. It was him, but wrong. Hair combed back, expensive all-black suit, splatters of blood on his face. Ugh, he almost looked like a ‘Saka lapdog. The running water buzzed in his ears.

“Get away from my wife” his own voice threatened from beyond the mirror. Johnny stumbled backwards. “Oh, what in the Freaky fuckin’ Friday -  I don’t want your wife, dipshit! Just wanna get back to my own.”

When he blinked, bizarro-him was gone, leaving Johnny with a splitting headache that distracted him from what he’d just said. He finally neared the sink again, splashing his face with a cold sensation; but this time, he blinked the water out of his eyes to find himself in a hospital room, face to face with Helen. Except… she was gone. And even though he knew, he KNEW, it wasn’t his Valerie, it still tore him to pieces.

“I can’t fuckin’ do this SHIT, no, NO fuckin’ chance, GET ME THE HELL OUTTA HERE!” he howled, knocking his chair back. He picked it up and started thrashing the hospital room, shattering everything in his way. Staff rushed in, attempting to restrain him by force as he kicked and screamed at the top of his lungs, deafened by the flatline of Helen’s heart monitor. “I won’t fuckin’ look at her, you hear me, YOU FUCKIN’ BASTARD, SABURO? HUH? I WON’T PLAY YOUR SHITTY FUCKIN’ MIND GAMES! THIS WON’T HAPPEN, EVER, I WON’T FUCKIN’ LET IT, NOT AGAIN!”

“Earth to jackass?”

Johnny felt the oxygen halt in his lungs as V’s voice reached him, calming his fit of rage. His voice came out as a shaky strain of desperation. A prayer.

“V?”

The grogginess taking hold of Johnny lessed its grip just in time for him to be met with a stinky tshirt clinging to his face. He let out a disgusted noise and pulled it off, watching V sort her laundry by the window in Megablock H10.

Nibbles woke as well, having previously been curled at his side, stretching lazily and jumping on the back of the couch to nuzzle Johnny’s face.

“You good? Couldn’t tell if you were havin’ a wet dream or a horrific nightmare. Was about to wake you up, although I did consider lettin’ you sleep in case it was the second option.”

Johnny’s hand reached to give Nibbles a few headrubs, earning a happy string of purrs as he rolled his eyes. An insurmountable amount of relief washed over him, feeling the nightmare scenario slowly dissipate into the back of his mind. He couldn’t help disappearing and reappearing, a hiccup that happened sometimes when he experienced a really strong feeling.  Thank. Fuck.

This. This felt right.

This was his V, and he wouldn’t want her any other way.

“Couldn’t imagine a sweeter wife” he grumbled in spite of the smile plastered on his face as he watched her. The sun crept in through the window, draping her in that intimate warmth he remembered so fondly. As if she registered his words, she curiously glanced at him, immediately taken aback by the lovestruck look on his face. She had to spew some sort of bullshit out before her heart leapt out of her chest.

“Ew, stop it!” “Stop what?” “Lookin’ at me, like- like that!”

He did not, in fact, stop, and V felt a blush bloom across her face. “Fine, whatever! Be a fuckin’ creep.” She looked away, pursing her lips to contain a smile as her body blocked the image of her lovingly caressing the dog tags around her neck with the tips of her fingers.

“Love you too” Johnny retorted, bringing his arms up behind his head as he kicked his feet up on the coffee table. He was having a much harder time than usual draping that tone of nonchalance over his voice. Although masked as a stupid joke, the words still stirred something inside of her. He felt a weight shift off his chest. A part of it, at least. Love, huh? Maybe he could get used to saying it. Maybe he could even stop parading it as sarcasm one day. Preferably before it was too late.

“Shut up” she barked at him, but he could hear the amusement hidden beneath. “Ah, c’mon! Admit it, V! You’re madly in love with me. Happens to the best of us.” “Yeah, ‘boutta serve you a knuckle sandwich made with a whole lotta love if you don’t stop pissin’ me off.” “Speakin’ of-” “I’m not makin’ your stupid fuckin’ mac ‘n cheese again! What the hell’s up with you today? You’re worse than usual.”

Man, he wanted to kiss her so fuckin’ bad sometimes. Shit, shit!, do not let her hear you think that.

“Just had a bad dream is all.” “Yeah? This ain’t bad enough of a dream for you?” 

Not if I can still save you.

“Man, you should’ve seen her - chick in my dream. Absolute babe. Had the hots for me like no other.” “Oh, I’m sure she did, grandpa. You know, there’s this nice house down the street, think you’d love it there.” “Real funny, V. Boutta piss myself laughin’.” “Yeah… they got diapers for that.”

He relished the sound of her voice, of her prickly retorts as they bickered, of her laughter, his eyes lost in the beauty of her day-old makeup, of the messiness of their apartment, of the guitar rested against the wall. Of their cat, their iguana, of the ashtray full of cigs smoked away while they talked for hours, of the dirty bowl of mac n cheese in the sink. The beauty of the Johnny + V tattoo on her arm, of the clink of his dog tags around her neck, like a wind chime on a hot summer day. 

Fuck, Valerie. I am in love with you. And I won’t let you die on me.

a/n: wow, if you read the whole thing, thanks so much and I really hope you liked it!! this was SOOO fun and also makes me really wanna start a John Wick fanfic too ajfsdjfsd I have so many ideas for an oc. ps, their wedding date is the same as the one on the fake virtual marriage certificate my partner made for us a few months after we met, haha. been five years since (we're not actually married/engaged irl yet lol) <3 Ar lath ma, Vhenan.

[persephone411]

You know what I just realized about Johns “death” in Chapter four ?

He died in Paris aka. The city of love. All he ever wanted to be remembered for was him being a loving husband to Helen.

Now I wanna cry

[writinginatree]

No Veggies, No Cookies

Relationship(s): John Wick & daughter!reader, Helen Wick & daughter!reader, John Wick/Helen Wick

Summary: Helen insists that even retired killing machines need to eat their vegetables. Or: An average dinner with the Wick family.

AU where they got Daisy shortly after John retired

"I don't need vegetables, mama! 'm a cold-blooded killing machine, I feed on the blood of my enemies, I—"

"You will eat your vegetables or you can forget about those cookies you wanted for dessert, sweetheart."

"That— That's blackmail!"

When Helen only shrugged, you looked to your dad for help, but he shrugged too. "You heard her. Eat your vegetables."

"Maybe you should act as a good example and eat your own vegetables first," Helen suggested, hiding her smile behind her hand.

"Yeah, papa, be a good example and eat your vegetables!" you echoed.

"I am eating them," John said. "But I'm not the one who wants cookies."

"But that's the thing! If I eat all these vegetables there won't be any room left in my stomach for the cookies! You do see how that makes sense, right?"

"...yeah. You do have a point, actually."

You looked back at your mother with a victorious grin, who could only shake her head and laugh. "You're hopeless, both of you. I really don't know how you're in such a good shape..."

"Does that mean I don't have to eat my vegetables?"

"Oh no. No veggies, no cookies."

"But..." You pouted, batted your lashes at her, even let your bottom lip quiver a little as if being close to tears. All to no avail. Unlike John, she was perfectly capable of resisting your puppy eyes. "But I don't like vegetables!"

"You haven't even tried most of them. You can't just automatically assume you won't like them just because they're vegetables, you know. It's absolutely possible for foods to be healthy and taste good."

You seriously doubted that, but since saying so would be pointless you just said, "But what about the ones I really can't stand at all? You can't make me eat cauliflowers, mom, please! That'd be just cruel."

Helen sighed. "You can give the cauliflowers to me if you really hate them that much. But do me the favor and at least try the other stuff, okay?"

You wasted no time scraping up all of the cauliflowers on your plate and relocating them to your mother's. A piece of carrot or two may also have made their way over there, tangled up between the disgusting white little trees and a piece of some other vegetable you couldn't even identify.

Helen gave you a look, but didn't say anything. After all there were still more than enough vegetables on your plate — in your opinion at least. The carrots were okay, you supposed, and you didn't mind the peas so much, either, but whatever that other stuff was, it was disgusting.

Something brushed your leg, and when you looked down, your eyes met those of Daisy. When the puppy noticed she had your attention, she immediately sat down, attentively looking up at you. A quick glance at your mom showed she wasn't paying attention to you, and you used the chance to slip a piece of the unknown vegetable into Daisy's awaiting mouth. While you were sure she had actually been hoping for one of the meatballs on your plate, she was a much less picky eater than you, and happily gobbled it up.

Even so there was still way too much of the stuff on your plate, and since Daisy now moved to the other side of the table to sit at your dad's feet and beg him for scraps, you were stuck with no way to inconspicuously get rid of it.

You impaled another piece of the unknown vegetable. You had decided for yourself to refer to it as an UPO — unknown plant object — from now on. Bringing it to your mouth, you braced yourself to give it another try. Maybe it wasn't as bad as you had initially thought?

But no. It was exactly as bad as it had been on the first try.

"You know what? Nope." You put your fork down on the table none too gently and leant back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest. You'd had enough. "If you want me to eat vegetables you'll have to do that airplane thingy people do with babies."

John raised an eyebrow, barely hiding his grin. "Oh, you shouldn't have said that. Helen absolutely will do that."

Helen was already reaching for your fork. Oh shit.

"No, no, no, wait! Mama, no!"

She pressed the fork back into your hand and lifted her eyebrows. "He's right. I absolutely will deliver your vegetables by airplane if you can't eat them on your own," she threatened with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You groaned. "It's not that I can't. I just don't want to."

Helen sighed. "Well, I'm not going to force you to eat them. If you can live with not getting any cookies—"

"No!"

Your mom shrugged, and you knew she wouldn't give in. But maybe you could come to a compromise. You would be content eating the rest of your veggies if you could just get rid of the UPOs.

"I'll eat the carrots and peas. But the only way you're getting this" — you held up another of the offending vegetables with your fork, before demonstratively dropping it on John's plate — "into me, is over my dead body."

Your dad raised his brows. "Now that's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"No."

Your parents shared a look, sighed, and finally nodded.

You wasted no time splitting all the remaining UPOs between them, giving John a bit more of them, since Helen already had been burdened with all your cauliflowers. Sure, they both seemed to like the stuff, but still. Fair was fair.

Speaking of fair, Daisy had returned to your feet, and it seemed anything but fair to not slip her another treat under the table. What did one piece of carrot more or less for you matter, after all?

When you looked back up, Helen was looking at you, but you just smiled at her. She was always scolding you — and occasionally your dad, too — for giving Daisy food from the table, saying it wasn't healthy for dogs, and that begging for scraps was bad behavior you shouldn't be encouraging. But it wasn't like she could see through the table. She had no way of knowing you had given Daisy anything. You just had to act natural. Even if you didn't think she'd actually deny you your cookies if she caught you, you didn't want to take the chance and find out.

You gently nudged Daisy toward your dad with your foot, hoping for a distraction, and sure enough he was dropping something under the table a few seconds later.

"John," Helen sighed, "not you too."

He gave her a sheepish smile. "It was just carrot. Those are fine for dogs, right?"

"Well, yes, but I was under the impression that we'd agreed not to encourage Daisy to beg for our food when we're eating. She's supposed to eat her own food. You know, the one that's actually meant for dogs?"

You snorted. "A bit late for that."

"Yeah," John said, lowering his head in an attempt to hide his grin. "And don't act like you never accidentally dropped anything under the table. Not even you can resist that cute little face."

Helen laughed, putting her hands up. "Okay, okay, I confess. We're all guilty of spoiling Daisy. But I'm at least trying not to overdo it. Unlike some of us," she said, looking straight at you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, mom."

John asked, "Do I even want to know how many of the vegetables you were supposed to eat have made their way under the table while we weren't looking?"

"Not that many!"

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"No, really!" You bit your lip, chancing a sideways glance at your mother. "I'm still getting my cookies, right? I swear I ate more of my veggies than Daisy!"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, yeah. You'll get your cookies. As your dad said, not even I can resist that cute little face," she said, reaching over the table to boop your nose.