#John Wick/OFC

[fics-not-tragedies]

Redemption: Chapter Six

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven

Surprise! I've been on a binge writing roll for the last couple of weeks, hope you like it!

Words: 2107; Warnings: not much except for some angsty bits; Summary: John and Isobel receive a surprising visit at the Continental.

Readers tag list:

@geostarr​; @catsmieow​; @wickedlangdon​; @bodhi-black​; @bugalouie-blog​; @onebatch–twobatch​; @fandom-lover-4​; @mikaneonox​; @spadesandaces2342​; @harrisongslimited​; @hhighkey​; @i-cant-remember-my-old-login​; @sgt-morgan​; @coloursunlimited​; @childrenofthegun​; @weminiaturestrawberry​; @silverlambcaptain​;  @krazycags01​;

@moonlit-raven-haven​​; @girl-at-the-verge​​; @boopdedoop​​; @jardani-jovonovich-bitch​​; @ladyreapermc​; @mysticfluffyness​​; @zombiepandajfish​​; @kollover24​​; @greenmanalishi​; @persephonehemingway​​; @penwieldingdreamer​​; @iworshipkeanureeves​; @lovelycarose​​;

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John raised an eyebrow, his posture shifting as he sat back, the tension already creeping in like smoke from a fire he couldn’t quite see.

“What kind of problem?” he asked, his voice low but heavy with an edge, the kind that came when he was preparing for something he wasn’t quite ready to face.

Isobel looked between them, the familiar unease creeping back into her chest. She had barely begun to process the raw emotions that had surged between her and John, and now, just like that, everything was back to the surface. What now? Her mind raced, but Sybil’s steady gaze told her this wasn’t something simple. This wasn’t the usual trouble they found themselves tangled in.

Sybil glanced over her shoulder, as if to make sure the room was still secure, then stepped further inside. She lowered her voice, and it was a note of caution that drew Isobel’s attention.

“We’ve got company,” Sybil said, and there was a certain weight to her words. "Not just any company.”

John stood abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the space like he was mentally calculating a thousand variables. He didn’t need to be told. He could feel it—the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. The Bowery King wasn’t just any visitor. He was a force. A dangerous one.

The door behind Sybil opened just slightly, enough for the sound of heavy boots on the floor to echo into the room.

John’s jaw tightened. He didn’t have to see him to know who it was. He felt the presence before the man even fully entered.

And then he did.

The Bowery King stood in the doorway, tall and imposing, his figure cloaked in shadows. His broad shoulders and weathered face were framed by the dim light spilling from the hallway, his sharp eyes scanning the room like a predator sizing up its next move.

Isobel’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t seen him in years, not since everything had gone to hell with the New York underground. The Bowery King had always been a mystery to her—fierce, calculating, and dangerous as hell. She didn’t trust him. No one did. But his power was undeniable, and his reputation preceded him, long and ugly.

“Wick,” the Bowery King’s voice rumbled, low and dangerous, almost a growl. His eyes flicked over to Isobel, then back to John, his gaze narrowing. “We need to talk.”

John didn’t move for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides. There was no warmth, no affection, no greeting in his expression. Just cold, hard indifference. He knew the Bowery King didn’t show up unless something big was happening. Something bad. Something that required all their attention.

“What is this about?” John finally asked, his voice unwavering despite the tension building.

The Bowery King’s lips twisted into a faint, almost sardonic smile. “Business,” he said, almost casually, though the weight behind the word was anything but. “But we’ve got a bit of a situation. And it’s one you’ll want to be a part of.”

John’s gaze flicked to Isobel, then back to the Bowery King, as though weighing his options. He wasn’t one to get involved in the King’s dealings unless absolutely necessary. He had enough on his plate—too much, in fact. The life he had built was precarious at best, and he didn’t need anyone coming in to stir up the pot.

But this was the Bowery King. No one could ignore him, no matter how many walls they built around themselves.

“I’m listening,” John said finally, his voice hardening.

The Bowery King stepped further into the room, the door clicking shut behind him with an almost final sound. “It’s the Russians,” he began, the name alone drawing a sharp intake of breath from Isobel. The Russian syndicate had always been trouble—cold, methodical, and unforgiving. They didn’t leave loose ends, and their reach stretched farther than anyone was comfortable with.

“They’ve been poking around,” the Bowery King continued. “And we can’t ignore them anymore. There’s a bigger play in motion, one that could topple the whole system we’ve worked so damn hard to set up. And I need someone who’s not afraid to get their hands dirty to help me clean it up.”

Isobel’s blood ran cold. She glanced at John, but he was already locked into the Bowery King’s gaze, a dangerous determination settling over him. John Wick didn’t back down from anything. Not from the Russians. Not from anyone.

The Bowery King’s eyes flicked between them, an almost calculating look in his gaze. “I’ve got a lot of people on my side,” he said, his voice dropping lower, “but you, Wick, you’re the only one who can take care of this. You’ll want to hear what I’ve got to offer.”

John’s face was a mask of steel, unreadable as always, but Isobel saw it. She saw the flicker in his eyes—the conflict, the temptation. It was impossible to ignore the pull of this kind of power, the dangerous allure of a fight that could change everything.

And deep down, she knew what this meant. She knew the weight of the decision John was about to make.

It was the same decision he had faced years ago when everything between them had started to unravel: loyalty, ambition, and survival. The stakes had always been high, and they were about to get higher.

The Bowery King took one final step forward, and the room seemed to hold its breath. “So what’ll it be, Wick?” he asked, his voice sharp, dangerous. “Are you in?”

John didn’t answer right away. His mind was already racing, calculating the cost of this choice. He glanced at Isobel, a silent understanding passing between them. She wasn’t sure what his next move would be, but she knew this: whatever happened next, nothing would ever be the same.

John stood frozen for a moment, the weight of the Bowery King's words sinking in. The air around them seemed to thicken, the tension palpable as he fought to push through the layers of uncertainty clouding his mind. He knew what this meant. He knew that getting involved with the Russians again would drag him deeper into the abyss he’d barely managed to crawl out of. And yet, he also knew that there was no walking away from this kind of invitation—not from someone like the Bowery King.

Isobel’s eyes never left his face. She could feel the conflict surging through him, could see the internal battle playing out in the way his jaw clenched and his posture stiffened. The temptation was there, unmistakable in the way he held himself, the pull of something darker than anything she had ever witnessed in him.

She had always known John to be a man of control, of precision, but she could see it in the way his hands curled into fists at his sides—something about this was different. He was close to tipping over the edge, and she wasn’t sure whether he even wanted to be pulled back.

The Bowery King’s presence loomed in the background, like a shadow too large to ignore. “I don’t have time to waste,” he said, his voice carrying an air of finality. “The Russians are moving fast. They’re already circling, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. You, Wick, are the only one who can stop them.”

John finally exhaled, his breath sharp, the tension in his chest starting to unravel. His gaze flicked to Isobel again, and for a brief second, their eyes locked—two souls, both tangled in a web of past choices and lost time. She could feel the pull between them, the unspoken bond that still lingered, even after everything that had happened. But there was also a fear in her eyes. Not for herself, but for him.

“Are you sure about this, John?” Isobel’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it cut through the room like a knife. “Once you walk down this path… there’s no coming back.”

John didn’t respond immediately. His mind was still spinning, thoughts racing with memories of the blood, the violence, the deals that had always come with a price. He had walked away once. Could he do it again?

The Bowery King, sensing the hesitation, pressed forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. “She’s right, Wick. Once you make this decision, there’s no going back. You’re already excommunicado. But I’ll tell you one thing—if you don’t act, it’ll be your neck on the line when the Russians come for you. They don’t forget. They don’t forgive.”

The words landed like stones, each one settling heavily in the pit of John’s stomach. He had spent so long trying to escape this life, this endless cycle of violence and betrayal. But there was something unyielding about the Bowery King’s presence, something that made it impossible to ignore.

And then there was the undeniable truth: John had always been a man of action. A man of few words, but of calculated, lethal decisions. The Russians were a threat, and he couldn’t allow them to grow unchecked. They were too dangerous, too capable of causing chaos on a scale even the Bowery King couldn’t control.

John’s eyes flicked back to Isobel, her expression a mixture of concern and resignation. She didn’t want him to get involved in this war. She didn’t want him to lose himself again in the chaos of the underworld. But he could see it in her eyes too—she knew that this was his fight. She knew there was no stopping him, not when the stakes were this high.

“I’m in,” John said finally, his voice steady, devoid of hesitation. “But I need a promise, King. If I do this… I do it on my terms. I won’t be your pawn.”

The Bowery King’s lips twitched upward in a smile, the faintest hint of approval. “You’ve always been a man of terms, Wick. I can respect that.”

Isobel’s heart sank as she watched him. The decision was made. The path was set. And she wasn’t sure whether she should feel relief or dread. Relief that he was taking control of the situation, that he was standing up to the Russians once and for all. But dread, too, because she knew what it would cost him—what it would cost them.

“You don’t have to do this, John,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and for a moment, she saw it—the man he used to be. The man who had loved her fiercely, who had fought beside her in ways she could never forget. But that man was becoming a shadow now, a memory that was slowly being erased by the weight of his choices.

“I don’t have a choice, Isobel,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a kind of quiet resolve. “Not anymore.”

The Bowery King stepped forward, his eyes flashing with a predatory gleam. “Good. We move tomorrow.”

With that, he turned and walked toward the door, leaving John and Isobel in the heavy silence that followed. John didn’t look back at her, but Isobel could feel the distance between them grow, like a wall being built brick by brick.

When the door closed behind the Bowery King, the room was empty except for the two of them.

Isobel stood there for a moment, her chest tight, her thoughts racing. She had lost him once. Could she bear to lose him again? Could she watch him walk down this road, knowing it would change him—knowing it would tear him apart?

“I’m not doing this for you, Isobel,” John said, breaking the silence as he turned toward her. “I’m doing it for us. For the people who can’t protect themselves.”

She shook her head, a bitter smile crossing her lips. “You can’t save everyone, John.”

His eyes softened, just for a moment, but the hardness never left his posture. “I’ll try anyway.”

And with that, the decision was made. There was no turning back. The war was about to begin, and it would consume everything in its path.

Isobel could only watch as he walked toward the door, the weight of the world on his shoulders. And she realized, with a sinking feeling in her gut, that she had never really known how to fight for him—not like this.

As the door closed behind him, she was left standing in the quiet aftermath, the heavy knowledge settling in. The past was never truly gone. And no matter how hard they tried to move forward, the ghosts would always be there, waiting for them to face them once again.

[nyancrimew]

my favorite thing about john wick is how there is always a club scene and how people always keep dancing as people around them are getting shot and impaled by axes and whatnot

[bluelolblue]

☘︎ The Calming Sound of Comfort ☘︎

Relationship: Santino D'Antonio x John Wick

Okay... I did it. Anthropomorphic/furry cat Santino and wolf John fic is here. Yes, they are furry animals here, I described some animal behaviors such as tail wagging, ears twitching and purring in an actual cat way, so please keep in mind they're not humans here ehehe. First time writing them as antrho animals! I enjoyed writing this and I hope it's good enough!

This is fluff, hurt/comfort, no warnings other than... I think they're extra cute here, so warning for cuteness ;) | Line divider

John woke up a bit later than usual, which was still early, especially for his lover who was curled up next to him, his head resting on his chest, sleeping peacefully.

The other day was rough for both of them, John got injured in his lower abdomen during a mission and when he returned home limping and with his ears flattened against his head, Santino was already ordering around to bring medical supplies. John tried to reassure him that he was okay, that he could do it himself, but the Camorra prince insisted on helping him and the assassin knew, with the way Santino's tail fluffed up, that it was better not to argue any further. 

Santino’s ears twitched whenever he would hear a sigh of discomfort from his partner, though John would make sure to murmur that he was doing a good job and not to worry. His lower abdomen was wrapped with bandages once the wound was cleaned and taken care of. The wolf assassin was exhausted. 

“You need rest, John. You did enough for today,” Santino said softly, pressing a tender kiss on his cheek. 

The wolf hummed, closing his eyes for a brief moment, but he nodded in agreement. He doesn't remember much after he laid down into the bed, wincing a little as the injury still burned but it was manageable. It took him a few minutes to fall asleep, he felt Santino next to him and his soft purring which lulled him into a deep sleep. 

So, Santino stayed with him the whole night.

John gently caressed his lover's face, careful not to accidentally scratch him as he brushed his fingers behind his ear that lightly twitched at the touch. Santino also moved a little closer to him with a soft sigh, nuzzling against his chest.

“Did I wake you up?” John whispered, but instinctively leaned to brush his cheeks against his lover's head. 

“No,” D'Antonio replied quietly. “I'm awake for an hour. Just wanted to be close to you.” He opened his eyes and smirked a little which got his companion to chuckle and slowly wag his tail under the sheets. 

“You hate getting up early… it's 8 am.” Santino would usually sleep a bit longer and hated being awakened, but for whatever reason he woke up earlier today. 

“And you're still injured. You kept wincing in your sleep, I wanted to make sure you're okay,” Santino said as he prompted himself on his elbow, cupping his lover's cheek and brushing his thumb over his sleek dark fur over his face.

“I'm okay, don't worry,” John murmured but still whined when he strained as he attempted to sit up. 

“Hmm… no. Doesn't seem like you are. You're acting like you didn't get stabbed in your abdomen yesterday. Stabbed, John.” Santino purposely emphasized some words, trying to get his stubborn lover to understand just how serious his injury actually was. 

“Yeah, I know, I know. There were worse situations, though,” John groaned as he managed to sit up and Santino immediately adjusted some pillows against his back so he could lean against them. “But damn… this one hurts.” 

His ear twitched to the sound of his companion huffing, “Obviously it hurts, and don't remind me of worse situations, I don't want to remember that…” Santino’s voice turned almost into a murmur at the end, his ears fell back as he wished to forget those terrifying moments. 

“Sorry,” John whispered and cradled his companion's head from behind to give him a gentle kiss on his forehead as an apology. He nuzzled his head against his, and heard him purr for a moment. 

“I'm not giving you painkillers on an empty stomach, you can't always just live on them… what do you want for breakfast?” The Camorra prince asked, although he continued to nuzzle against his partner's neck, scenting him and making sure he was comfortable. 

“I'm not hungry… still just very tired,” The assassin admitted and exhaled deeply. “I'll manage for another hour.” 

Santino sighed, knowing that his partner was being difficult but then again, John was always like that when it came to enduring pain. “Does it hurt a lot?” He asked and pulled back to study his face and his body language.

“No, kinda aches when I move, but nothing I haven't been through.” John gave him a reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze on his shoulder to show him that he was okay. Santino's eyes drifted down and his ears dropped sideways, and John's heart hurt at the sight of his partner being so… worried yet adorable. Every instinct in him screamed to comfort him, to protect him when he was like this. “Hey… I'm okay, I promise, please don't worry.” He gently lifted his partner's chin up so he would look at him, brushing gentle circles over his cheek with his thumb. 

Ah, his green eyes seemed so sad, filled with worry yet so beautiful. His pupils were dilated with concern which made his eyes seem even deeper, almost shimmering with unshed emotion. 

“You're risking your life every day as if you… can't die. Like you're immortal, John…” Santino paused, placing his hand on top of his that was resting on his cheek. “But you're not, and you're not alone anymore. You have me. And I don't want to lose you– I can't. I… I really wish we lived differently, but I can't find a solution just yet–” He hadn't even realized his voice was breaking until he felt a warm hand cradling his cheek and heard soothing noises coming from his partner. 

“Hey, hey, we'll be fine. We'll be fine,” John repeated softly as he pulled him into a gentle embrace, rocking him lightly, trying everything to comfort him. “It's not your fault, okay? Don't even think about it. Our lives are scary and dangerous, but we're also going through everything together. You give me the strength to go through all this– not the pills or anything else– but you, Santino. I keep fighting because I have you. You won't lose me… I'm here with you and I'll stay no matter what.” 

Santino sighed deeply, burying his face into John's neck and his fur, feeling his grounding hand on his back, rubbing in comforting circles. “You didn't have to make this so… emotional,” he murmured, but was actually very glad to hear all this. He needed to hear it at this moment. “Promise me you'll let me take care of you…”

“I promise,” the wolf replied, pressing a tender kiss into his head. “I'm not the only one stubborn here when it comes to asking for help… promise me the same.” He smirked, trying to light up the mood.

Santino groaned into him, lightly pressing his nails into John's shoulder as a warning, but it was more of a playful act. “...promise…” He murmured. 

John hummed in satisfaction, relaxing with his lover who was curled up against him, but his body relaxed this time. He wasn't so tense anymore. “We can stay like this for a little longer,” he suggested and wagged his tail.

“I need to change your bandages.” D'Antonio lifted the sheets to check on the injury but was quickly pulled into a kiss instead. He was caught off guard but still returned the kiss equally as passionate, softly humming into it.

“It can wait,” John breathed against his lips, leaving his partner flustered just as he thought he couldn't get any cuter, he just did. 

“It really can't.” Even if he complained, he still went for another kiss, cupping John's one cheek as he tilted his head. “But fine… some more rest can't hurt if you're feeling okay.” He purposely broke the kiss a bit sooner, just to get John to whine for it. And to make sure he was really okay. 

“I'm more than okay when you're with me.” John pressed his forehead against his, nuzzling against him and sharing breaths. This earned him some more kisses all over his face until Santino eventually snuggled closer to him and rested his head on his chest. 

It was peaceful once again, they both felt more calm, so much that Santino instinctively started purring. It was a bit quiet at first but the more they relaxed, the louder his purring got. John adored it, it was comforting and healing in a way. The best music to his ears and he would enjoy it every time. He also thought it was cute how most of the time, Santino wouldn't even notice that he was doing it until John would point it out. However, he always encouraged him to continue since it was truly calming.

“Your purring really helps,” John commented with a smile, though his voice was tired, already drifting into sleep. “I love it.”

“I'm glad,” Santino replied, his voice just as equally as tired, but he continued to soothe his lover with his purring. 

They stayed like this until they both fell asleep again, or at least John did. Santino was half asleep, ready to provide as much comfort as he could like this even if it meant to stay somewhat awake to keep purring and relaxing his injured partner. 

[kavalyera]

love how john wick actors always serve when they’re on set. so good at body language and understanding their characters so much<33

[bubble-bones]

John Wick (2015) | John Wick: Chapter 4 (2023)

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 24

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (OFC. But you do not have to read the others in the series to understand this fic.)

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @themaradwrites @munstysmind @thebejeweledwatercat @fanficanatic-tw @asirensrage @kmc1989 @karimac @theesirenteller @residentdormouse @alisbackalleybbq @ninjasawakenedmystar @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation @occommunity

Warnings: profanity, (very minimal) gun violence, (brief mention) blood, (minor) physical violence (I mean, the guy's a mercenary, mmmkay)

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/132270193

My tag list is OPEN. Please just let me know if you'd like to be added :)

******

As smoke billows heavily from the garbage room and fire alarms blare, he leads her down the hall; a firm, protective hand on the back of her neck as they blend seamlessly into the steady flow of guests that head for the closest stairwell. Taking an alternate route would have caused too much suspicion; The Continental’s clientele well-versed in how to be deceptive and how to spot those guilty of the same. The majority is immensely loyal to Winston; with eyes that are forever curious and peeled and ears that are always open and lurking for even the smallest hint of trouble.

Drawing attention is the last thing he wants; keeping his rifle pressed tightly against his side as he makes random, mundane small talk with a clearly nervous and fearful Esme. Knowing that his voice -if kept low and steady and reassuring- is enough to calm her down and keep her focused; needing both his presence and the security and the confidence that he’s always been able to instil in her. Using both words and the pressure on her neck to keep her moving; encouraging her to match his slow and steady gait as opposed to adopting anything more frantic and hurried.

The growing crowd notices nothing amiss; intently focused on the reality of their situation as opposed to what others are doing around them. Chattering and grumbling to one another in a mixture of confusion, slight concern, and immense annoyance; questioning the cause of the fire and bemoaning disrupted naps and schedules as they pull on sweaters and overcoats. He never makes eye contact; his hand slipping from the nape of Esme’s neck to the small of her back as he steers her towards the stairwell. Pausing to hold the door open for others; accepting the words of appreciation tossed in his direction and returning them with nothing more than a simple nod. And when the last person begins making their way down the stairs, he lingers briefly on the threshold; waiting until the others are a flight below before turning on his heel and quietly closing the door behind him.

Fishing the lone key from his jacket pocket, he jams it into the control box and turns it all the way to the left; the toe of a filthy, well-worn combat boot rhythmically tapping against immaculate, gleaming marble as they wait for the elevator to reach their floor. Beside him, Esme nervously rocks back and forth on her heels and chews anxiously on the inside of her cheek; her eyes fearful, her complexion a washed out, almost sickly gray. Taking advantage of the lull in activity, he reaches out to gently tug on her hair; shooting her a wink and flashing a brief yet reassuring smile when she glances up at him.

The lift noisily rumbles to a stop, and as the door opens, he moves his hand to the small of her back; applying firm yet gentle pressure as he encourages her to step on, then directs her to stand against the side wall. Out of sight in case an employee beckons the elevator from another floor; wanting to avoid both a confrontation and the chance of her impending departure getting back to Winston.

He shoves the key into the control panel; holding it in place as his free hand activates the two-way radio clipped to his vest. “We’re in the elevator now. Heading to the basement, level one.”

“Copy,” Nik responds. “We’re right behind you; southwest stairwell, seventh floor.”

“Any word from Wick? About the outside?”

“He’s stationed across the street. Taken up position on the roof. His people are here; fire trucks out front, men inside checking the situation, evacuating people. Should make it easier for you to get around.”

“Armoured car?”

“ETA three minutes. It’ll be waiting for you.”

“How much time do I have?”

“Fourteen minutes. Before the hotel’s security system goes back online.”

Esme urgently tugs on his sleeve, whispering: “Ask about Millie” when he glances down at her.

“Have you heard from Alcott? About how things went?”

“They made it safely out of and away from the building. Met no resistance. They’re at the designated spot; Wick will join them once you and Esme are away from the building and you give the all-clear.”

“Millie?”

“I’m assuming she’s fine. Alcott didn’t say otherwise. No news is good news.”

“What about Winston? Any sign of him?”

“Not that I was told. I know that doesn’t exactly fill you with a sense of confidence…”

“I’ll handle him. If I have to.”

“Tyler…”

“We talked about this. You know where I stand. I’ll handle him.” Releasing the comms button on his transmitter, he gives Esme a small yet reassuring smile. “She’s good. They didn’t have any problems getting outta here. They’re a few blocks away, waiting on us to get the fuck out. And to pick up Wick.”

Esme breathes an audible sigh of relief. “I’ve just been so worried about her. She’s just so sensitive, you know? I know she’s tough and resilient, and she’s crazy smart, but she’s still just a little girl. It’s always just been her and I, and it was hard enough telling her that she couldn’t come with us, never mind sending her with someone else.”

“I don’t necessarily like the idea of her with other people, either. But it was the right decision to make; if things go wrong, at least she isn’t around to suffer because of it. And like you said, she’s in great hands.”

“I don’t trust many people when it comes to her. I wouldn’t send her with just anyone.”

“I know. I trust your instincts. And your choices. I wouldn’t have gone along with it if I didn’t.”

“I just didn’t want you to think that I’m neglectful or thoughtless or that I just leave her with random people. I just…”

“I don’t think any of those things. I never would. You did the right thing for Millie. Do you really think I would have gone along with it if I didn’t think that?”

Esme shakes her head.

“Stop doubting yourself. You’re a good mum, Me. You’re an amazing mum. You’ve done right by her. And I know it wasn’t easy; doing it all yourself. There’s no doubting how much you love her. How you’ve devoted your entire life to her.”

“She’s my baby. She became my entire world. And if anything happens to her…”

“Listen to me.” Laying a hand on the back of her neck, he firmly squeezes. “Nothing is going to happen to her. Alcott will make sure of that. She’s safe. And you’ll see her soon. I promise.”

“You’re not worried about her? Or scared or…”

“You kidding? I’m scared shitless. But I know she’s gonna be alright. She’s with people that would do anything to protect her. I wouldn’t have gone along with sending her with them if I didn’t truly believe that. Now…” He re-checks the tightness on her vest. “...what I need you to do is just breathe. Stay calm, keep your eyes and your ears open, and let me know if something doesn’t feel right. Okay?”

She nods.

“You just gotta breathe, Esme. Just breathe and trust me.”

“I do. I DO trust you.”

Patting down the pockets on her coat, he reaches into the left one and removes a black, purple and pink striped beanie. Gently slipping the garment onto her head and then giving her a wink as he tugs it down over her ears. “It’s cold out.”

She manages a smile; briefly leaning her body into his before once again issuing a long, heavy sigh. “Please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

“You KNOW.”

“What YOU know is that I hate when you talk in riddles.”

“You’re not going to go after him, are you? Winston?”

“Not intentionally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You either are, or you aren’t. What…?”

“I’m not going looking for him. That’s not what I’m here for. I’m not going to search the place; hunt him down like a rabid dog. Even if it IS what he deserves.”

“But?”

“If he tries to stop me from getting you out of here, then I’ll deal with him.”

“Tyler..”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want hear about the fucking rules of this place; how they're the only thing separating us from the animals. Or whatever bullshit he likes to preach. And I especially don’t want to hear about The High Table. Those fuckers have caused enough damage and enough problems to last a lifetime.”

“They are not the people you want to piss off. Haven’t you learned that by now? That they’re not the type of people you want to cross? After everything they did five years ago…”

“I already talked to Nik. If it comes to having to kill Winston and live with The High Table on my ass, she and Yaz will make sure you and Millie were kept safe. Taken care of.”

“So we basically just go back to the way things were? You in one place, us in the other?”

“If it has to be that way, then…”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. Five years wasn’t enough? I realize that was all my fault, and I can’t go back and make a different decision; I can’t ever erase what I did or make things right. But we just found each other again. After YEARS apart. And Millie just finally got her dad. And you’re willing to just say ‘fuck it’ and throw all that away?”

“I don’t want to fight. Especially right now. I don’t…”

“I’m not trying to fight. I’m trying to make sense of it. We are so close to having everything we wanted. Everything we should have gotten five years ago. And yet, you’re okay with losing that? For a second time? I don’t…”

“I’m not okay with anything. It’s not like I want to throw it away. It’s not like I love the idea of things going back to the way they were and…”

“You can’t retaliate. I know you’re pissed off; about that sniper coming after you and putting Millie in danger. And I know you hate this weird, gross obsession that Winston has when it comes to me. Believe me, I don’t particularly like the thought of it either. I understand why you’d want revenge. Part of me wants it to. But to go against The High Table and put a target right on your back…”

“I don’t care about me. If it comes down to protecting you…”

“You think it’s caring about me to put yourself in danger like that? Do you think that’s caring about Millie? You think we want you having to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?”

“Don’t I already do that?”

“Trust me when I say this, Tyler: there isn’t anyone you’ve gone against that is as vicious and cold-blooded and unforgiving as The High Table. They won’t just kill you. That’s going easy on someone, as far as they’re concerned. They will make you suffer. They will abuse you and torture you until you’re begging them to put a bullet in your head. Even then, that won’t even be enough. They’ll stop and give you a few days rest and then start all over again. And that will last weeks. Maybe months. Maybe even years. Do you think I want that? Them doing things to you? I already saved you from that shit once. Don’t make me do it again.”

“Don’t threaten me with that. Don’t…”

“I’m not threatening you. I’m begging you. Please don’t go after him. Don’t let him reel in you like that. He wants you to react. He wants you to snap and do something drastic because he knows he can’t bring you down any other way. None of his threats have worked. Offering you money didn’t work. The sniper didn’t get the job done. And he’s not going to get his own hands dirty. He wants you to draw blood on Continental grounds so that The High Table will come for you. How can you not see that? That he will do whatever he has to ruin everything. To ruin YOU. Don’t fall for his shit. You are way too smart for that.”

“I can’t let him hurt you. I can’t let ANYONE hurt you. And if he gets in my way…”

“If you’re not going to think of yourself, at least think of me. And Millie. We NEED you. We’ve always needed you.”

“You’ve already done almost five years on your own. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. If you have to…”

“It isn’t about ‘having to.’ It’s about not WANTING to. I don’t want to do this alone anymore. I didn’t want to do it alone the first time! I am begging you, Tyler. Don’t do this to me. To Millie. To US. Please don’t.”

“What am I supposed to do? If he tries to stop us? If he won’t let me take you out of here. How am I supposed to handle that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t…”

“Well, you better figure it out fast.” He glances up at the illuminated numbers above the elevator doors. “Because we have two floors to go and if we step out there without a fucking plan…”

“I don’t know. I don’t…” Briefly closing her eyes, Esme takes in a long, quivering breath. “...I’m just begging you not to kill him. I’m not saying you can’t defend me. Or yourself. He won’t break the rules; he’s not going to draw blood on Continental grounds.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. He’s not above The High Table. NO ONE is. He breaks one of their golden rules, and they WILL punish him. They will strip him of his management, deconsecrate this place, and allow it to become a bloodbath in here. He knows it, and he won’t even chance it. The power that comes with running The Continental and being in The High Table’s good graces are what matters most to him.”

“You’re sure of that.”

“I’ve spent enough time here…enough time around Winston…to know what he treasures most of all. And it isn’t me. It’s power. He won’t risk losing that. Not even for you.”

“So we just talk it out? What do we do? If he tries to stop us? You better hurry, Esme. Because once those doors open…”

“You just can’t draw blood. You can threaten him. You can rough him up. You just can’t kill him. You find another way to handle things. You’re smarter than you think, Tyler. Way smarter. If anyone can handle Winston and play him at his own game, it’s you.”

“So I’m allowed to at least beat the shit out of him?”

“Within reason. If you start, you have to know when to stop. Don’t cross a line you can’t cross back over. That’s all I’m asking. Because I love you, and I need you. And I’m trying to protect you. So just please…PLEASE…remember who you’re dealing with and what he wants from you. And DON’T give it to him.”

Tyler nods slowly as he considers her words, then lays a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into him. Covering her mouth with his in a long, deep kiss that lasts until a melodic tone announces that the elevator has reached its final destination. Pulling away, a gloved hand tightly squeezes her neck. g “We’re going to be alright.”

“Stronger together than we are apart.”

“Yeah…” He offers a slow yet shaky grin. “...we are.”

*****

The rifle moves slowly; controlled by a steady and confident grip as it makes sweeping passes over closed doors, hidden alcoves, and empty hallways. The silence within the bowels and dark recesses of The Continental deafening; exacerbating the sound of every breath they take and the brush of their soles against the cement floor. Coming to an abrupt halt when voices puncture the stillness; muffled conversations within the laundry room as employees shut down equipment and prepared to evacuate the building. And when they grow louder and closer, and he hears the faint squeak of an opening door, he mutters a "fuck...fuck....FUCK" and seizes her by the front of her vest; quickly and aggressively dragging her into an alcove. His back pressed against the wall as he pulls her much smaller and lighter body into his; a forearm draped across her collarbone and a hand covering her mouth in order to ensure her silence.

When the threat passes, he issues a sigh of relief; an arm ushering her behind him as they once more continue their journey. Vaguely aware of the hold she has on his jacket; her footfalls light and quiet as opposed to his awkward, shuffling gait. His weight and size proving to be detrimental; creating unwanted noise that seems to echo throughout the basement and bounce off the surrounding walls. And they’re fifty yards away from freedom when it happens; an unmarked door tossed open, followed by cocky, smirking Winston stepping out into the hall.

“You really didn’t think you’d get away with this, did you? That I wouldn’t catch wind of your little plan? That someone wouldn’t give you away? Not very smart, are you.”

“Stay back,” Tyler warns. “Don’t come any closer. Don’t…”

“You came into my home, where you’re certainly not welcome, and proceeded to ignore every rule laid out in front of you. Not to mention disrespected not only me, The Continental itself, but all of those who seek and take refuge here. Just who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m the one that’s getting Esme out of here. Away from you. Out from under your thumb. It’s over, Winston. She’s not yours to protect. She never was.”

“You seem to forget that if it weren’t for me, she’d be long dead. And so would your child. In fact, that little one would have never even been born. She exists BECAUSE of me. Because I opened my doors to her mother. Because I gave her a safe haven. Which is something you couldn’t do. Something you’ll NEVER be able to do.”

“I’m going to need you to take a couple of steps back. ‘Cause if you come any closer to her…”

“In case you haven’t noticed by now, Mister Rake, you don’t intimidate me. Not in the slightest. I’m not threatened by you, nor am I scared of you. And I certainly don’t respect you.”

“Never thought I’d say this, but we actually have something in common. Because I feel the exact same way about you.”

“You are under MY roof. This is my home. My KINGDOM. Mine and mine alone. I certainly didn’t want you here; your type is never welcome at The Continental. And believe me, I did everything in my power to prevent you from even stepping foot in this city, never mind this establishment. But even I have my limits. My weaknesses. I admit that I DID succumb to her…how should I put this…feminine wiles.”

Esme hurries out from her ‘safe place’; managing half a step before finding herself blocked by his much larger, heavier body. “And what the fuck is THAT supposed to mean?

“Get back,” Tyler orders, using a forearm to once more tuck her behind him. “Don’t engage. Don’t even look at him. Just stay right there and keep quiet.”

“You know exactly what that means,” Winston informs her. “You have an uncanny ability; the gift of being able to manipulate people into doing exactly what you want. A well-placed smile or pout. Those big, dark eyes. That ‘damsel in distress’ air that you so easily adopt. Even those well versed in your true self fall for it; strong, noble men that never crack under pressure, never break a sweat under even the most dire of circumstances. You act shy and coy and sweet and…”

“That’s not true. I’ve never acted like that. Not with you. Not with ANYONE.”

“You’ve made a living…and a very lucrative one at that… doing those very things. Isn’t that why you’re here in the first place? Why you needed my help? My protection? For years you’ve conned the very best; talked and flirted and lied and…if I may be so bold…even whored…”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Tyler snarls. “Don’t you EVER…”

“... your way into their good graces. Their lives. Their BEDS. How long have you gotten away with it? How many men HAVE you fooled? How many have fallen in love with you, only to have their entire world crumble underneath them?”

“Those were jobs,” Esme argues. “Nothing more. Nothing less. That’s all they were. I never…”

“Never what? Meant to take things that far? Use them in ways that go far beyond your job description? You can’t tell me that Alessio was the first that you devoted so much time and energy to. Eight months. Nearly three-quarters of a year. You became part of his family and even accepted his proposal. You allowed him to raise your daughter, you…”

“He treated Millie like complete and utter shit! Like she was subhuman. He wanted to send her away! To boarding school! A four-year-old! A baby! He…”

“And just who enabled his behaviour? Who allowed him to be around the child? Who was so desperate to have a father in their daughter’s life that…”

“You fucking asshole!” Esme lunges forward; immediately finding herself snagged by the hood on her jacket and aggressively yanked backwards.

“Stop!” Tyler orders. “Just stop. This is what he wants. He wants us to react. Lash out. Do something stupid. So just get behind me and stay there. And don’t say another goddamn word!”

“That’s Millie he’s talking about! My daughter! OUR daughter! She’s just a little girl. A baby. She…”

“He’s using her to get to you. To get to US. Now just get behind me and stay there. And keep quiet. Got it?”

“But…”

“Got it?”

She tearfully nods, then obediently tucks herself behind him.

“You are noble.” Winston addresses Tyler. “I will give you that. Perhaps not the most intelligent, but…”

“I’m only going to tell you once. Get out of the way.”

“So gallant. So eager to protect And so damn devoted. To a fault, even. Do you not see what she’s doing to you? The pattern? Isn’t this how it all began? You protecting her? SAVING her?”

“Winston, back away. Before…”

“Before what?” The older man chuckles. “Before NOTHING. Are you that oblivious? To how you’re being played? Not just once, but TWICE?”

“I’m not taking the bait. I know what you want from me. You want me to snap. You want to be able to paint me as unstable. Unhinged. An unnecessary threat. You want to be able to tell everyone that you acted in self-defence. That I had no reason to act the way I did. You want to be able to kill me; break all the High Tables rules. And then get away with it by making up some bullshit on how it was justified.”

“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are more intelligent than I give you credit for.”

“It’s not going to work, Winston. No matter what you say or do. I’ve had much worse said to me. DONE to me. By WAY better.”

“She’s using you, Mister Rake. Just like she used you in Dhaka. She has no morals. She doesn’t care who she hurts. She brings men like you…like US…to our knees. She…”

“You and I? We are nothing alike.”

“We are EXACTLY alike. As much as it pains me to admit it. She’s conned us both. Used us. Manipulated us. Only with you, she got away with it TWICE.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You know nothing; about Esme and I and what went down between us and Dhaka.”

“Word travels fast in the circle. You should know that by now. You should also know that you’re the laughing stock. Everyone talks about it. About YOU. You may be a hero. You may be a legend. But you’re also a damn fool.”

“I’m only going to tell you once more, Winston. Get out of my way. You either move on your own, or I do it for you. And you don’t want that, believe me.”

“I’ll tell you something else. What happened two days ago? In your room? It’s the last time I hire an outsider. To get a job done. It was simple; I told them who the target was and exactly where to find him. Yet here you are. Standing in front of me. Still breathing. You’re a hard one to kill, Mister Rake.”

“I fucking knew it. As soon as it happened. I knew you were behind it. Why? Of all places to try and take me out, why there? With Millie in the room? She’s a baby. MY baby. Why…?”

“Unfortunately, when it comes to war, there’s always collateral damage.”

The rage is overwhelming. All consuming. And in one quick movement, he drives the butt end of his rifle into the side of Winston’s face; the older man roaring in both surprise and pain as he drops into a bloody heap. Blood thunders in his ears as he tosses the weapon aside and then stalks towards his prey; placing a knee in the middle of the other man’s chest as he changes his method of attack. Restoring to using his fists; raining punches down on Winston’s already battered head and face. Oblivious to Esme's initial orders and then her desperate pleas for him to stop; ignoring her as she attempts -in vain- to pull him away. Unable to control either strength or aggression, he pushes her away; causing her to lose her balance and fall heavily onto her rear in the middle of the dirty floor.

“Tyler! No!” As he reaches for his rifle, she scrambles to her knees and then her feet; rushing towards him in a frantic attempt to yank the weapon from his hands. Both arms wrapping around one of his as he places the muzzle against Winston’s forehead, finger poised on the trigger. “Tyler! Stop! Please don’t do this! Don’t…!”

“Just step away, Esme. That’s all you gotta do. Just step away.”

“Please don’t,” she tearfully pleads. “You don’t want to do this. It’s not worth it. HE’S not worth it.”

“You heard what he said. It WAS him. That tried to kill me. Millie was right there. She was in the room. That sniper aimed right at her.”

“Tyler, this isn’t what Millie would want. You kept her safe, yeah? You made sure nothing happened to her. You SAVED her. She’s alive because of you. And she’s waiting for us. She’s waiting for YOU. Her dad. She needs you, okay? She’s always needed you. And I’m sorry that I didn’t make that happen. That I kept her from you. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I never meant for it to get this far.”

“You have nothing to do with this. With HIM. So just step away and…”

“You and Millie just found each other. After all this time. You get to be a father again. And she finally gets her dad. The one she’s been asking about. Don’t rob her of that, okay? Don’t rob her of you. I already did. Don’t you do it to her, too.”

“Esme…”

“I can’t let you do that to her. I just can’t.”

“He deserves it. For him to have his head fucking blown off..”

“Maybe he does. But I don’t want you to be the one who does it. We are so close. To having everything we ever wanted. Please don’t throw that away. Please don’t throw ME away.”

Initially pressing the muzzle harder against Winston’s head, he finally relents, index finger slipping off the trigger as he backs away. And while Winston stumbles to his feet, Tyler once more takes hold of Esme’s hand and guides her behind him.

The older man smirks; using his tie and the sleeve of his suit jacket to clear the blood and sweat from his face. “You realize you just signed your death warrant. Both of yours, for that matter. You drew blood on Continental grounds. That’s rule one: no business is to be conducted on company property.”

“Just let us go, Winston,” Esme attempts to reason with him, struggling to remain calm despite the hammering in both chest and head. “It doesn’t have to go any further than this. It doesn’t have to escalate. Just let us go.”

“You know that can’t happen. It WON’T happen. I was never going to let either of you escape. The child, yes. She has many people who love her. Who will gladly step up and take care of her in your absence.”

“You’re going to kill both of us? Is that it? That was always your plan?”

“I’m not going to kill you. Why would I waste such a wonderful, beautiful asset? I’m not a stupid man, Esme. Don’t treat me as such.”

“When I told you I was hiring Tyler, and you agreed to let him into The Continental, you told me you’d let us go. That we’d be free to just walk out of here. You PROMISED me.”

“Well, you see, my love, like you, I too have to lie from time to time. To get my way.”

“You’re fucking crazy. Why would I ever stay here with you? Why would I want to? Especially after all of this. You think I’d just forgive you? For everything you’ve done? For keeping my daughter from me? For killing Tyler? You think I’d just learn to be okay with all of that?”

“I can have your daughter brought back. At any time. All you have to do is ask nicely and…”

“And do as I’m told? Is that what you were going to say? All I would have to do is be a quiet, obedient, submissive little thing, is that it? Play along? Be a trophy for you; someone you could parade around? Show off? Feed your ego? Cure your limp dick? Is THAT what you were going to say?”

“You are a feisty one. Always have been. I can give you a life. A very good one at that. You’ll never want for nothing. There’s nothing I can’t give you. Why won’t you let me do that? Give you the world? Why…?”

“I would rather put a bullet in my fucking brain than spend another minute here with you.”

“You’ll learn to love it. Life here. Where you’re safe.”

“I’m not staying here. So you’re going to have to kill me, too. Because I’ll do it myself. I’ll find a way. I will NOT be some toy for you.”

“But you’ll be one for him? Some ‘no one’. You’ll accept a life with THAT? Over one with me?”

Esme remains defiant. “I’d rather be his whore than your wife.”

“You really would choose him? An alcoholic, drug-addicted mercenary who abandoned his dying child?”

“Don’t talk about him like that.” Her hand disappears underneath the hem of her jacket; fingertips brushing against the handle of the Glock. “Don’t EVER talk about him like that. Don’t even say his name.”

“I don’t know who is more blind. Him or you. He can’t see what you’re doing to him, and you can’t see him for who he truly is. A nobody. No more than some two-bit thug who…”

“Winston, I am warning you. DON’T talk about him like that.”

“You’re more foolish than he is. You realize that, don’t you? The fact you would turn down a life with me for a pathetic, miserable existence with him? He doesn’t deserve you. Don’t you see that? He’ll never change. This is who he will always be. He’ll never give this up. This life. Not for you, not for your daughter. You can’t change him. You can’t save him. No matter how desperately you want to.”

Slipping the gun from its holster, she removes it from under her coat before either man has a chance to stop her.

Winston gives a mocking chuckle.. “And what are you going to do with that, little one? What…?”

“It’s not what I’m going to do. It’s what YOU’RE going to do.”

“And that would be?”

“You’re going to let us out of here. You’re going to keep your promise. Or I will put a bullet in your fucking skull.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Like I told Alessio earlier. I don’t bluff.”

Behind her, the doors to the kitchen swing open, and she quickly pivots; training the gun on the figure that strides into the hallway.

“Miss Drummond,” Both Charon’s voice and eyes are soft. Reassuring. Kind. And he holds his hands up in a plea for peace, signifying to both Esme and Tyler that he poses no threat. “If you would be so inclined as to hand me your weapon.”

“I can’t. Not unless he lets us go. He’s going to kill Tyler. And keep me here. Away from Millie. He’s…”

“He’s going to do no such thing,” Charon assures her and slowly reaches for the weapon; giving a calm, gentle smile as he gingerly plucks it from her hand. “You’re safe. You’re BOTH safe. No ill is going to come to either of you.”

“But he said…”

“What he said doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to happen to you. Either of you. You’re going to walk out of here. Together. And you’re going to be reunited with your little girl. Very soon.”

“It was him, you know. That hired that sniper. To kill Tyler. He didn’t care that Millie was there. She could have been killed, too. And he didn’t even give a shit. That’s my little girl. My baby. And he didn’t even care.”

“I know. Of his involvement. The news of such I didn’t learn until this morning. But she is safe now. She’s away from here. This place. This life. And if you want to see her again…”

“It’ll never happen,” Winston interjects. “My people are already on their way. They’ll be here in minutes. So I suggest…” He glances at Esme, then at Tyler. “...that if you have anything to say to each other, you do it now. Or you won’t get the chance.”

“There is NO ONE coming,” Charon informs him. “There is no cavalry.”

“I called them myself.”

“As did I. After you hung up. It’s been called off. And they’re free to go.”

“You can’t make that decision. You…”

“No. But The High Table can. You’re not the only one with friends in power, sir.”

“You’re lying. You’re…”

“I NEVER lie. You should be expecting a visit from The Adjudicator. The High Table was very concerned that you hired someone to do business on Continental grounds. Not even you are above the rules.”

“First Jonathan, now you? Charon, how could you? Betray me like this? After everything we’ve been through. The years we’ve spent together. The battles we faced. All the things I’ve done for you. And THIS is how you repay me? This…”

“THIS is the right thing to do. Now…” He regards Esme over the top rim of his glasses, then holds out the Glock. “...you can be trusted with this? Rule number one…”

“I can be trusted.”

“Good. Now I suggest you leave. The way you have planned. I will meet up with you. At the airport.”

“You’re coming with us? Why? Why are you…?”

“I’m merely tagging along. To make sure you get to your destination. Safely. But if something does happen in the meantime…” Cradling her face in his palms, Charo presses a kiss to each of her cheeks. “...it has been a pleasure, Miss Drummond.”

As tears well in her eyes, she stands on her tiptoes and embraces him tightly. “Thank you. Not just for this. For EVERYTHING”

“I have very much enjoyed your company. And your friendship.”

Shouldering his rifle, Tyler plucks the Glock from Esme’s hand and slips it into the waistband of his pants, then wraps an arm around her shoulders and draws her tight against him. He gives Charon an appreciative nod. “Thank you.”

“We will see each other soon, Mister Rake.”

“I hope so.” He begins leading a trembling and terrified Esme away. “I really fucking hope so.”

******

As an armoured SUV waits for them outside the shipping and receiving, Tyler’s eyes quickly scan the immediate buildings for any sign of trouble; any figures lurking in open windows or within the shallow recesses of doors. And when he’s certain it’s safe, he jumps off the platform and then turns to assist Esme. His arms outstretched and waiting for her to make her move; easily and effortlessly catching her and then placing her on the ground. Holding her securely by the wrist as he pulls her in the direction of the vehicle; opening the door with one hand, the other shielding the top of her head from coming in contact with the frame. And he waits until she buckles herself in before shutting the door and hurrying for the driver’s side; slipping behind the wheel and throwing down the overhead visor, allowing the keys to fall into his lap.

“Well…” He guns the ignition. “...that went to shit.”

Esme attempts an apology. And an explanation. “I’m sorry. He just knew exactly what buttons to push. First talking about Millie, then about you. I just couldn’t take it. I couldn’t hear another word. He just kept going and going, and I just snapped and…”

“What did I tell you? About listening to me? About never second-guessing a goddamn thing?”

“I just couldn’t listen to it. As if admitting to being the one to hire the sniper wasn’t enough…”

“Esme, I told you to stay quiet. To not engage with him. And I didn’t tell you just once. I told you multiple times. To just shut up and get behind me and let me do my job. Why don’t you listen to me? Why can’t you just do what you’re told? Why…?”

“He just got to me. It was just too much. I can usually handle what people say about me. And I don’t really care that he called me a whore and…:

“I sure as hell fucking cared.”

“...and accused me of being a liar and manipulator. Because I WAS those things. When it came to the job. I DID do those things. I did lie, and I did manipulate people.”

“It was always a means to an end. You did what you had to do. It was work. That’s it.”

“He said the exact same things Gaspar did. About me. About US. About how I used you to get out of Dhaka. And that’s not true. I didn’t lie to you, and I didn’t manipulate you. And I didn’t use you.”

“I know that. I…”

“Everything that happened between us, everything we said to each other, everything we planned? It was all real. Every second, every word. None of that was fake. And for TWO people to insist on it?”

“If I didn’t believe it then, what the hell makes you think I’m going to believe it now? I don’t give a fuck what Gaspar said. And I sure as hell don’t give a shit about anything that came out of Winston’s mouth. I was there too, Esme. In Dhaka. In that hotel room. And it all felt real. It never felt anything BUT real.”

“I just wanted to make sure, that’s all. That you know that none of what Winston said is true and that….”

“Esme, I KNOW. I’ve ALWAYS known.”

“And then when he started in on Millie and then you…”

“Listen, as much as I would love to be able to just sit here and unpack all of this with you and assure you that everything is okay…that WE’RE okay…I can’t do it. Maybe later, but not right now. I need to get us the fuck out of here. Away from this place and out of this city. Out of this COUNTRY. So I’m going to need you to let this shit go. For now. Okay?”

She nods.

“I also need you to toe the fucking line. Because back there? With Winston? That almost ended very badly. And I don’t want to have to deal with something like that again. So, please…I am begging you…listen to me. Do as I say. Got it?”

Tears well in her eyes as both chin and lower lip tremble. “Got it.”

“And please don’t do that. Cry. Because I can’t deal with that right now. I can’t be who you need me to be when you’re this upset and close to freaking out. You hired me to do a job, yeah?”

She nods.

“Then let me do it. Or we are NOT going to get out here. Cooperate. Please.”

“I will. I just…”

“No more. No more talking about this. Just sit there and be quiet and…” His words trail off as his SAT phone vibrates within the confines of the inner pocket of his jacket. And he mutters a ‘fuck me’ as he pulls it out and jams an index finger into the ‘talk’ icon.“What?!”

“Where the hell are you?” Nik inquires. “We’ve been waiting here. At the rendezvous site. Where…?”

“I got a little held up.”

“A little?”

“We’re on our way now. Be there shortly.”

“You’re fifteen minutes past the deadline. Of when the security systems came back on line. Why haven’t you been answering me? On your radio? Did something happen to it or…?”

“I turned it off. In the basement.”

“Tyler…”

“Look, we had an issue, alright?”

“What kind of issue?”

“One I don’t have time to explain. I’m trying to fucking drive!”

“Do I need to remind you who's in charge? Who your boss is? Who gives you orders and signs your paycheck? Do I..?”

“Fuck off, Nik!” He barks, then hangs up and tosses the phone onto the dashboard; unleashing a host of profanities when it bounces off and falls to the floor at Esme’s feet.

Chewing anxiously on her bottom lip, she glances over at him, then down at the cell. And she strains against her seat belt as she leans over to pick it up; placing it in the hands-free holder clipped to the dashboard.

For several minutes, they remain in silence as they make their escape; grateful for the clear and easy path created by the slew of emergency vehicles provided by Wick’s men. To the untrained eye, the FDNY badges and logos seem legit; boldly plastered on the handful of engines and SUVs that not only keep the street directly in front of The Continental car and pedestrian free, but have succeeded in closing down all intersections within a three block radius in each direction.

The closer they get to their meet-up point, the more steady and confident his nerves become. With the confrontation with Winston now pushed onto the back burner, it makes room for cautious optimism; allowing himself to think of not only being reunited with Millie, but of finally being able to start his life -as a partner, soon-to-be husband, and a father- in his homeland. He’s anxious to share the things he loves with his little girl; already dreaming of teaching her to surf and taking her camping and fishing and dirt bike riding. Witnessing as she thrives and grows and gets accustomed to life ‘down under’; making friends and falling in love with the people and the wildlife and taking on an accent.

It’s those thoughts that release the last of the tension in his shoulders and jaw, feeling remarkably lighter as he glances over at Esme; watching as she nervously chews on the inside of her cheek and fidgets with the ties on either side of her hat. He regrets how harsh he’d been with her; the aggression he displayed, and the way he’d barked at her and ordered her around. Lowering himself to reprimanding her as if she were nothing more than a petulant child.

Dropping one of his hands from the steering wheel, he gently sweeps dirt and debris off the thighs of her jeans. “You’re not hurt are you?”

She glances over; a quizzical frown knitting her brows together.

“I didn’t mean to push you as hard as I did. I just meant to get you out of the way. I didn’t…”

“It wasn’t THAT hard. You didn’t hurt me. I just lost my balance. I…”

“That was a pretty hard fall. I didn’t…”

“Tyler…” She grabs a hold of his hand before he can remove it from her leg; managing a smile as she tightly squeezes. “...I’m fine. Honest. Remember when I talked about being thicker too?”

“Oh fuck, not this again…”

“Most of that thickness is in my ass. I didn’t feel a thing.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, it’s just made your ass even better. And it was pretty awesome before, so…”

“And you excuse me of unprofessional talk?” she teases. “Aren’t you supposed to be the mature and sensible one in this situation?”

“Fuck mature and sensible. You talking about your ass being thicker? All I can think about is that saying. About ‘more cushion for the pushin’.”

“You are nothing if not predictable,” she chides and releases his hand. “I KNEW as soon as I mentioned my ass, your mind would go there. Right into the gutter.”

“I was a total prick back there. I didn’t…”

“You weren’t. You…”

“No. I was. I shouldn’t have talked to you like I did. You didn’t deserve that. You…”

“You had every right to. I haven’t exactly been the most cooperative client, have I?”

“You’ve been a challenge. I thought maybe the last five years might have calmed you down; gotten you over that whole ‘I listen to no man’ stage.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I tend to listen to you more than other men.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “That’s not saying much.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. That I just didn’t shut up and do what I was told. I didn’t exactly follow my own advice, did I? About not letting Winston get under our skin.”

“No, you did not.”

“Like I said, I don’t really care what people say about me. I’ve been called way worse by way better. But when he brought up Millie and then started threatening you and talking all kinds shit about you…”

“I’m a big boy, Esme. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. You DO need me. In more ways than you’ve ever been willing to admit. I may not be able to protect you the same way you do with me, but I can still have your back. Defend you. Take care of you.”

“And I’m still going to tell you that you don’t need to.”

“We’re going to have to come to some sort of impasse, Tae. Because…” She pauses when she sees the slow, almost boyish grin that spreads across his face. “...what? What’s that little smile for?”

“Nothing. I just haven’t heard you call me that in a long time. I missed it.”

Smiling, she reaches out and rubs his thigh, then squeezes his knee. “I missed saying it.”

“You gotta promise me that you’ll try and rein it in. How much you worry about me. Want to take care of me.”

“You know that’s impossible. It’s just who I am. Who I’ve ALWAYS been. When it comes to you. I’ve always cared too much and worried too much. That’s not going to change, you know. So I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree. About whether or not you need to be protected or not.”

“As long as you promise you won’t go too Mother Hen on me. You know I can’t handle it when you start that babying shit.”

“You are so full of it. You like it when I baby you. I mean, who else is going to put up with you when you’ve got the man flu? You’d probably drive other women completely crazy. They wouldn’t know how to handle you. You’d break them for sure.”

“Well, your sister always was amazed about how I managed to never break YOU in half.”

“I’m made of tough stuff, I guess. Momma didn’t raise a quitter. Or a coward." Yanking off her beanie, she smoothes down her hair and fixes her ponytail. “Did you know? About Charon? That he was part of all this?”

“All I knew was that Nik had someone on the inside. Who got her the blueprints of the hotel, security codes, and all kinds of info. I never would have thought it would be him, though.”

“What do you think made him turn? Against Winston?”

“You heard him; he said it was just the right thing to do. What happened the other day probably pushed him over the edge; the sniper even going after Millie.”

“You never told me that. That they intentionally targeted her.”

“I didn’t see a need to. There was no reason to upset you more than you already were.”

“That must have been terrifying. It’s one thing for people to come after you; you’re used to it. But for them to go after her?”

“I handled it. I did what I had to do. To keep her from getting hurt. But if I ever find exactly WHO pulled that trigger…”

“I give you full permission to shoot them in the head. After you torture them. Slowly and extremely painfully. Do you think he’s going to be okay? Charon? Winston isn’t going to take this lying down; he’s going to view it as a massive betrayal.”

“Winston isn’t dumb enough to try anything. Charon’s got The High Table on his side. Which means, in some weird, fucked up way, they’re on our side too.”

“Better than having to worry about them coming after us. Let’s just hope we never have to call in any favours. Rely on them for anything. Because if I ever have to resort to THAT…”

It happens quickly. Leaving no time to time to react or prepare for impact. The roar of an engine, the glare of headlights cutting through the thin veil of fog, the screeching of brakes. Safety and security suddenly and brutally ripped away; bodies violently jostled within the confines of the SUV as horns blare, glass shatters, and metal crunches and crumbles.

And then, silence.

[helianthus21]

need to share my totnt pre-series fic idea to support yeon's claim that he never abandoned rang (liar) where some other supernatural guy wants to take revenge on rang, somehow manages to drug and kidnap him, and when kidnapper's buddy joins the scene he's like "are you stupid?? you could've kidnapped anyone's brother but you just had to go and kidnap the brother of mountain god Lee Yeon??"

and then ofc yeon appears

[zutraeumen]

Passionfruit (Julian Slowik x OFC)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Welcome, dear readers!

I'll keep this short and sweet, as I'm not a fan of long introductions. This is a self-indulgent crossover fanfic between the John Wick and The Menu universes, where I only own my original character, Adele Cole. Please forgive any grammar mistakes, as English isn't my first language. Spoiler alert for both films!

Reviews are always welcome, but if you're not a fan, feel free to move on.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You can find this work on these platforms: FanFiction, AO3, Wattpad or Quotev.

Passionfruit🍴Masterlist:

Hawthorne Island

The First Course

The Second Course

The Third Course

The Fourth Course

Palate Cleanser

The Sixth Course

The Assassin and the Chef

Final Course

Reborn In Flames

The Unlikely Path Forward

Eye To Eye

Hollow Spaces

Unspoken Understanding

Turning Point

Point Of No Return

Hard Truths

Between Two Sinners

Push And Pull

Broken People

[tobytheeggo]

Here is the church, and here is the steeple

We sure are cute for two ugly people

I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else

But you

(Song: Anyone else but you - The moldy peaches)

[fics-not-tragedies]

Vanishing Point: Chapter Five

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven

Sup besties, I'm back full throttle and you can't stop me at this point 😂

Words: 2804; Warnings: few angsty bits, but that's all; Summary: Juliet and John plot against Santino.

Readers tag list:

@geostarr​; @catsmieow​; @wickedlangdon​; @bodhi-black​; @bugalouie-blog​; @onebatch–twobatch​; @fandom-lover-4​; @mikaneonox​; @spadesandaces2342​; @harrisongslimited​; @hhighkey​; @i-cant-remember-my-old-login​; @sgt-morgan​; @coloursunlimited​; @childrenofthegun​; @weminiaturestrawberry​; @silverlambcaptain​;  @krazycags01​;

@moonlit-raven-haven​​; @girl-at-the-verge​​; @boopdedoop​​; @jardani-jovonovich-bitch​​; @ladyreapermc​; @mysticfluffyness​​; @zombiepandajfish​​; @kollover24​​; @greenmanalishi​; @persephonehemingway​​; @penwieldingdreamer​​; @iworshipkeanureeves​; @lovelycarose​​;

@allanawinchester​​; @babayagakeanu​​; @keandrews​; @tomorrowsanotherday​​; @weasleytwins-41​​; @witty-wallflower​​; @babayagakeanu​ @7kacey11​​;

John’s hand remained firmly on the small of her back as they walked down the dimly lit hallway, the rhythmic click of her heels the only sound between them. The air was thick with tension, and Juliet could feel the weight of his gaze on her, even though he hadn’t said a word since guiding her from the room. She wished she could shake the feeling of being scrutinized, but there was no escaping it. She could feel every inch of his presence, suffocating her in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

When they reached her door, John didn’t make a move to open it. Instead, he stopped, turning her to face him. His hand slid slowly from her back to rest on her hip, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress, his eyes never leaving hers. The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy, before he finally spoke.

“So, tell me about Santino,” his voice was low, steady, and calculated—each word carefully chosen, as if he already knew more than he was letting on, waiting for her to fill in the blanks.

Juliet swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. The name sent a sharp pang through her chest, memories flooding her mind. She’d never been able to escape him, no matter how far she ran, no matter how much time had passed. He still haunted her, like a shadow lurking at the edges of her thoughts. She fought to keep her expression neutral, to keep the emotions from creeping into her voice.

“What do you want to know?” she asked, her words more defensive than she intended. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to steady herself, the room around them feeling suddenly too small.

John tilted his head slightly, studying her with that piercing gaze of his, as if he could see through every wall she built. “I want to know everything, Juliet. How far did he push you? What kind of man is he, really?”

Her jaw tightened, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. She was reluctant to dive back into that part of her life, but she knew John wouldn’t stop until he had the answers he was seeking.

“He’s not who he lets people believe he is,” she said slowly, her voice quieter now. “Santino is... twisted. Charming when he needs to be, but it’s all a facade. He doesn’t care about anyone, not really. He’s possessive, manipulative... and when he thought I was betraying him, he tried to break me.” She paused, the memory of his cold gaze and the control he’d had over her making her stomach turn. “But he never had the power to break me. I left before he could.”

John’s gaze softened, just slightly, as he listened, but there was no sympathy in his eyes. Instead, there was something more—an understanding, perhaps, of the kind of man Santino was. Someone who used fear and manipulation to get what he wanted. Someone who didn’t stop until he had his claws in deep.

“Did you ever love him?” John asked, his voice almost too quiet. The question hung in the air between them, heavy and loaded.

Juliet felt a lump form in her throat. She had loved him once, or at least, she had convinced herself she did. She’d been young, naïve—looking for something to fill the emptiness inside. But now, looking back, she realized it had never been love. It had been control.

“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head as if to convince herself more than him. “I never loved him. Not really. I was just... trapped. But I’m not anymore.”

John studied her for a moment longer before his eyes hardened again, his grip on her hip tightening slightly. “You say you’re not trapped anymore, but you’re still haunted by him. You wouldn’t be so guarded if he didn’t still have some hold over you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. He was right. The thought of Santino still gnawed at her. Even after everything, the fear of what he could do, the way he could turn everything she had into rubble, still lingered in the back of her mind.

“I’m not haunted,” she said, more forcefully this time, but it came out as a lie. “I’ve moved on. I’ve dealt with it.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “Then why didn’t you pull the trigger, Juliet? Why let him live after everything he did? If he’s such a monster, why didn’t you finish it?”

The question hit her like a punch to the gut. She didn’t have an answer. Maybe it was because, deep down, she wasn’t ready to kill him. Or maybe, a part of her still wasn’t sure if he deserved to die. Or maybe it was because she feared what would happen if she did.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, looking away for a moment. “I wanted to, believe me. But in that moment, I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready. Maybe I’ll be someday.”

John’s hand slid up her back, his fingers gently tracing her spine as if trying to comfort her in his own way, but his words came out colder than she expected.

“Don’t wait too long, Juliet. Santino isn’t the kind of man who forgets. He’ll come for you when you least expect it.”

Juliet met his gaze again, a shiver running down her spine. She wasn’t sure if he was warning her or pushing her further into action, but the weight of his words settled deep in her chest. He was right. Santino wasn’t someone who could be ignored. And as much as she tried to escape him, she knew that part of her life wasn’t finished yet.

John’s voice cut through her thoughts again. “We need to make sure he understands the consequences. Because if we don’t, he’ll keep coming back. And I’m not about to let that happen to you again.”

Her breath hitched. There it was again���the weight of his presence, the way he seemed to have every answer, every plan. And she realized, with a cold clarity, that she wasn’t just a part of his plan to take down Santino. She was something more. Something he wanted to protect. And that thought, more than anything, made her hesitate.

“Let’s just focus on tonight,” she said, her voice quieter than before. “We’ll deal with Santino later.”

John didn’t argue, though the dark intensity in his eyes suggested he wasn’t finished with this conversation. Not by a long shot. But for now, he didn’t push. Instead, he guided her into her room, the door clicking softly behind them.

The door clicked softly behind them, and John’s eyes didn’t leave her for a moment as he stepped further into the room. The tension still hung thick between them, but it was different now—more focused, more purposeful. He wasn’t just concerned with her past or her emotional scars anymore. Now, it was about something else entirely. The weight of the plan was pressing down on both of them, and she could feel it settling in her bones.

Juliet moved towards the window, looking out over the dark skyline as if the city could offer her some clarity. She ran her fingers along the edge of the curtains, her mind a whirl of thoughts, but there was only one that seemed to keep coming back.

How to make Santino pay.

John’s footsteps echoed behind her, and she could feel his presence before he spoke. His voice was quiet but steady, like the calm before a storm.

“We’ll make him pay, Juliet. But not in a way he expects.” He was standing just behind her now, his breath warm against the back of her neck as he continued. “We’ll make him think we’ve forgiven him, that we’ve forgotten. Then, when he’s least expecting it... we strike.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She could already picture it—Santino’s smug face, convinced he was untouchable, thinking he had won. He was so sure of himself. But that was his greatest flaw. The arrogance, the confidence that nothing could touch him. It made him predictable, even if he didn’t know it yet.

She turned to face him, meeting his gaze head-on. “And what’s your plan, Wick? What’s the first step in all of this?”

John’s lips twitched slightly, as if amused by her sudden shift. He knew she was all business now, and he liked that about her. His hand moved slowly to his pocket, pulling out a small, leather-bound notebook. He flipped it open, revealing pages filled with neatly written notes, sketches, and what appeared to be a blueprint of Santino’s operations.

“We hit him where it hurts,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper as he leaned in closer, revealing the plan he had been preparing. “Santino’s power is built on fear and control. He has people in his pocket, sure. But those people, they’re weak. They’re loyal to him because they’re scared of him. But fear is a fragile thing, Juliet. If we break it, they’ll turn on him.”

Juliet nodded slowly, taking in every word. It wasn’t just about hurting Santino physically. It was about dismantling his empire, piece by piece, until he had nothing left to stand on. She understood now. This wasn’t just about vengeance—it was about taking everything he had built and reducing it to ash.

“And how do we do that?” she asked, her voice steady now, as if the pieces were already falling into place.

John’s smile was slow, deliberate. He was in his element now—calculating, ruthless. “We start with his closest allies. People who think they’re untouchable. We cut off his supply chains, turn his network against him. We create doubt. Fear. We spread rumors, make them question their loyalty. Santino thrives on control, but when that control slips, so does his strength.”

“And once we’ve got them on our side?” she pressed, her eyes narrowing in anticipation.

“We hit him last. We let him think he’s won. But when he’s vulnerable, when he believes he’s in the clear, that’s when we pull the trigger.”

She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the plan settle inside her chest. She had never been this close to something so dangerous, so methodical. But she wasn’t afraid. She was ready. Every fiber of her being was attuned to the task at hand. Santino had wronged her in ways that no one would ever understand, and now she had a chance to make him pay. For good.

“So what do we do now?” she asked, her voice low but certain.

John stepped closer, his hand finding hers, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin. “Now,” he said softly, “we make sure Santino’s biggest weakness becomes his downfall. And we wait. We let him think he’s safe... then we deliver the final blow.”

The finality of his words hung in the air, a promise of what was to come. But there was something more in his eyes now—something that wasn’t just about vengeance. It was about power. And for the first time in a long time, Juliet realized that she wasn’t just going along with this plan. She was in it. She was as much a part of it as John was, and there was no turning back now.

John’s grip tightened around her hand, a silent agreement passing between them. “This is our fight now, Juliet. And we’re going to win.”

Her chest tightened with anticipation. She had no illusions about what was coming. It would be messy. It would be dangerous. But it was also going to be the kind of reckoning Santino had earned.

“We’ll make him regret ever crossing us,” she said, her voice cold with certainty.

John’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, his thumb brushing across the back of her hand in a gesture that spoke more than words ever could. “That’s the plan.”

And with that, the game was on.

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, charged with anticipation as the weight of their plan settled in. Juliet could feel her pulse quickening, the excitement, and the fear melding together into something intoxicating. She’d never been this close to a fight this big, a battle where everything—her past, her future, and the raw hatred she had for Santino—would come crashing together. But she wasn’t scared. She was in control, and with John by her side, she could almost taste victory.

John’s gaze never wavered, and he took a step back, assessing her. His eyes flicked briefly to the doorway, a small signal that he was already planning his next move. “There’s something else,” he said, his voice calm but purposeful. “This won’t just be about taking Santino down. It’ll be about making sure no one ever dares to cross us again.”

Juliet’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

John’s lips quirked up into a tight smile. “I mean we’re not just going to ruin him. We’re going to make sure that after this, every person who’s ever been in his pocket understands that crossing us is a death sentence. They’ll fear us. We’ll become the nightmare that keeps them awake at night. We’ll own their every move. And Santino?” His gaze darkened, almost predatory. “He’ll wish he’d never been born.”

The cold fury in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, but it wasn’t fear. It was something else—something thrilling. The idea of not just defeating Santino, but making an example of him, of showing the world just how far they were willing to go, filled her with a dark sense of satisfaction.

“How do you plan to do that?” she asked, her voice steady, betraying none of the fire burning inside her.

John gave a small nod, clearly satisfied with her understanding. “We’ll start by tearing apart his alliances—each one more strategic than the last. We’ll make it seem like we’re taking small, calculated steps, but each move will build to something bigger. We’ll leave a trail of destruction, and everyone who gets in our way will know it wasn’t an accident.”

Juliet’s lips curved into a dark smile. The thought of it—the power, the control—sent a thrill through her. This was no longer about revenge for her. It was about making sure everyone knew they’d crossed the wrong people.

“And Santino?” she asked again, her voice quiet but firm.

John’s expression hardened. “We save him for last. The grand finale. We make sure he’s the one who has to witness the end of everything he’s built. He’ll watch his empire crumble, piece by piece, and when he’s at his weakest, when he thinks he’s finally got the upper hand, that’s when we strike.”

Her heart raced at the thought, her pulse pounding in her ears. “You’re right,” she murmured, her voice low with conviction. “He’ll never see it coming.”

John’s eyes locked onto hers, the intensity of his gaze making her stomach tighten in anticipation. “You have no idea how much I’ve been planning for this, Juliet. We’ve got everything we need. Now, it’s just a matter of execution.”

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “And you’re sure we can do this?”

John didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a step closer to her, his presence suffocating in the best possible way. His hand reached for her, sliding down the curve of her arm until his fingers gently brushed hers. There was something reassuring in the touch—a silent promise that they were in this together.

“We will,” he said, his voice steady and unshakable. “You and me. Together. And when it’s all over, when Santino is nothing more than a memory, we’ll be the ones standing at the top. No one will be able to touch us.”

A surge of adrenaline shot through her, and for the first time in a long time, Juliet felt the weight of the world on her shoulders—and she welcomed it. They were on the verge of something massive, something that would change everything. And she wasn’t afraid.

“We’ll make him pay,” she said, her voice fierce and final.

John’s grin widened. “We will.”

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with unspoken understanding, with shared ambition. They didn’t need to say more; the plan was set. Now it was just a matter of executing it.

Juliet stepped closer to him, her eyes locked on his as she slid her hand into his. There was something different in the way he looked at her now—something like respect, like he saw her as an equal, as a partner in this war. It was a dangerous partnership, but it was one she was ready for.

Together, they would bring Santino to his knees.

And when they were done, the entire underworld would know their names.

[lavandulacosmos]

Inktober Day 26: REMOVE [ATEEZ x John Wick] 

Assassin!Mingi & BabysitterDoctor!Yunho (Ft. Handler!Wooyoung & Concierge!Jongho)

"You won't guess what San just did- Holy shit, Mingi! What is all that?" Wooyoung whistled as he came to a stop beside the pouting assassin. “Don't even ask,” Yunho complained as he aggressively unrolled a new tape. "I removed a bullet and about half a forest and a brick wall from his back." "It's not my fault!" Mingi argued, hissing as Yunho continued to cover his wounds with vindictive care. "I got ambushed by those goons from Gangnam and I didn't want to be late in case San needed backup- Ugh, can you maybe not tell Hongjoong-hyung?" "Too late," Jongho interrupted with a mighty frown. "How many times did I tell you not to leave blood all over the lobby?" "Sorry, Jongho." "Oh, before I forget. I just wanted to tell you that San is on his way and he needs a little bit of medical attention." Wooyoung grinned, making Yunho squint at him with displeasure. "I don't even want to know." "Yeah, you really don't. But now I kind of want to check up on Yeosang just to make sure he actually stayed in one piece." "Just leave him to Seonghwa-hyung," Jongho waved him off. "I better go. Before Hongjoong-hyung gets the call about whatever it is that San-hyung did, and ends up destroying another completely functional phone."

[ATEEZ days - Part 7]

Continuing the John Wick AU mini story from Day 25~ (Insp.: x)

[bluelolblue]

Healing grace

Summary: Santino was hurt, and it brought him back to his childhood with how his father hurt him in a similar way. John helped Santino heal, of course.

Rating: Mature, hurt/comfort

Relationship: Santino D'Antonio/John Wick

Note: Okay, finally putting this on ao3! This was a prompt from @starkiller-queen , and it's also posted on tumblr right here. You can also read it there if you want to. Thank you so much <3

☆ SPECIAL THANKS TO @mrssimply ☆ for beta reading and helping!!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Snippet

“Let me see,” John insisted.

“Fuck… no! It'll pass,” Santino gritted through his teeth.

Broken ribs with potentially broken few fingers would not in fact just pass.

“Santino, don't be stubborn. I saw what they did to you, I killed them, you're really badly injured. Let me help you.”

John could be a pain in the ass sometimes, literally. They were both stubborn, just in their own way. He refused to show John his injuries in the car and now at home, too.

“I… listen, it used to pass on its own, so just leave me alone!” Santino wanted to storm off but John already caught him by his arm, which made Santino yelp in pain.

“That hurts!” Santino snapped.

“I’m sorry, but please let me see. I just want to help you. You know you're safe with me, right?”

Santino sighed in slight annoyance. He knew John wanted only the best for him, he was just really frustrated from the pain.

“I know,” Santino murmured, “It just hurts.”

John nodded, taking a hold of Santino's other hand, “I'll help you. You don't have to be in pain.”

Read the rest on ao3

[sunflowerbowers]

I wrote this ages ago now! Need more Winston fics in my life. Watched all the John Wick films and somehow came away with as much an obsession with him as Keanu Reeves!!

[notthelemurking]

i got around to watching heartstopper and once again i'm wondering, why did it take me so long to watch it? all the good shows, i overlooked at first

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter Twenty

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (OFC. But you do not have to read the others in the series to understand this fic.)

Warnings: some profanity.

*Includes Extraction 2 canon mentions

Tagging: @youflickedtooharddamnit @munstysmind @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @theesirenteller @asirensrage @residentdormouse @ninjasawakenedmystar @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @occommunity @thebejeweledwatercat @kmc1989 @karimac @themaradwrites @alisbackalleybbq

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/127894162

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Chapter Summary: Tyler Rake, John Wick, and Alcott walk into a bar...

*****

They make quite the threesome in The Continental lounge. Wick with his American drawl, infamous slicked-back hair, and all-black attire, Alcott with his crisp English accent, neatly tailored pants, and cashmere sweater, and Tyler in his ‘casual best’. A simple black Henley shirt and well-worn and faded, olive green cargo pants he’s had for years; tattered around the cuffs and sporting holes in the side pockets.

Three entirely different yet somehow similar men; a combination of unique backgrounds yet familiar circumstances. Their lives filled with loss and heartbreak, and their hands drenched in the blood of many.

And their bank accounts much fuller because of it.

“Now explain this to me again,” Alcott implores from his middle seat at the bar, nursing the remains of his drink. “Like I’m a three-year-old. Because the information is just not getting through. You’re not telling her WHY?”

Sighing, Tyler takes a sip of water. “It’s not that we’re NEVER going to tell her. It’s just that we’re waiting.”

“Waiting for what? Hell to freeze over? Pigs to fly? Just what are you waiting for?”

“For the right time.”

“And just what constitutes the ‘right time’? The child’s existed for nearly five years. She’s been asking about her father for almost a full two of those. If you ask me, there’s no time like the present. She already admitted to loving you. What more do you need?”

“It doesn’t matter if she already loves me or not. Esme and I agreed; that we'd hold off on saying anything.”

“But why? If the little one is already this attached to you and you…by my brief albeit brilliant observation… are already attached to her…”

“She’s been through enough. I mean, it’s been a hell of a four days for US and we’re grown-ass adults. She’s not even five. A baby still.”

“Baby or not, she’s resilient as hell and stronger than either of you are giving her credit for. You don’t think it would be a welcome surprise? In the midst of all the bullshit? Don’t you think it wouldn’t give her something to smile about? To learn you’re her dad?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It matters a hell of a lot. It’s your damn swimmers that helped make the child. You’ve got more of a say in this than you realize. Don’t be a pussy, Rake. I know you love the woman, but stand up for yourself. Tell her to shit or get off the pot.”

Smirking, Tyler sips at his water. “You saying something bad about Esme? Of all people?

“I’m not saying anything bad about her. I’m simply saying she’s being foolish. That this is all just a bunch of horseshit. There’s no reason to keep it from her. It’s not like it’s horrible news. For either of you.”

“You gonna say all that to Esme’s face? Tell her she’s making a mistake? Being foolish?”

“No. And you’re not going to tell her I said it, either. I’d prefer to keep my balls exactly where they are, thank you very much. And you…” He nudges Wick with his elbow. “...does any of this make sense to you?”

In response, Wick bobs his head from side to side, then shrugs his shoulders.

“What the hell is that…” Alcott mimics the gesture. “... supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t have a horse in this race. I’m just here to listen. To support. Not throw my two cents in.”

“How very diplomatic of you. I hope you’re not going to be like this when we get out onto the street. All passive and shit. I can barely carry my own weight most days, I don’t need to be carrying yours as well.”

“Job me and ‘real life me’ are two totally different people.”

“You must have an opinion. One way or another. Does it make sense to you, or is it just the stupidest damn thing you’ve ever heard of?”

“My opinion means nothing. I’m not taking sides in this. I’m not a father. I don’t have kids.”

“What does that matter?”

“It matters a lot. It means I don’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to telling other people what to do with their children.”

“I don’t have any either…”

“That you know of,” Tyler mutters.

“...but I know when something is purely idiotic. And this is about as idiotic as it gets. Tell us. Come on. How do you feel about all this? What do you THINK about it?”

“I think…” Wick downs his bourbon and then waves the empty glass at the bartender. “...I need another drink.”

“You alright, mate? Do you need to talk about it? Whatever you’ve got going on? ‘Cause there’s a couch over there…” Alcott nods in the direction of the lounge. “...and you can lie on it and I’ll sit next to you and you can talk to me like I’m a therapist. Gonna cost you, though. One sixty-five an hour.”

“And would that be in US dollars or pounds?”

Sighing in exasperation, Alcott turns back to Tyler. “You realize this is a stupid idea, yeah? Keeping it from her? That little girl is smarter than any of you are giving her credit for. And she’s been wanting a dad in her life since she’s practically been old enough to talk. I know you think you’re protecting her, but…”

“That’s exactly what we’re trying to do. Protect her. She’s been through enough. More than any kid should have to go through. So we’re just giving her a little bit of a break and…”

“Hearing that you’re her father IS the break. That bit of good news in the midst of all the bullshit. Don’t you think it’ll lift her spirits? Especially after what happened this morning? That incident scared her to bits; she needs some kind of assurance that her entire world isn’t going straight to hell. That she’s safe and secure and no one else is going to hurt her.”

“And I can give her all of that. I can keep her safe. I can stop anyone from getting to her. She doesn’t need to know I’m her dad for all of that to happen.”

Wick speaks up. “If I may be so bold…”

“Oh, now you have something to say,” Alcott chides. “After you get a fourth one into ya. Need the booze to loosen your lips and tongue, do you mate?”

Tyler nods, signifying for him to go ahead.

“I can’t believe I’m going to say anything because I’m trying not to put myself right in the middle of your personal life. But…”

Tyler scowls. “Mate, you’ve been in it for years. Since you kept Esme’s whereabouts a secret. And then didn’t bother telling me about my kid. You have been knee-deep in my personal life for a while.”

“I did what was asked of me,” Wick defends himself. “Esme’s my friend. She needed my help. I gave it to her. And I wasn’t going to betray her confidence. For anyone. And I’m sorry; if that puts me on your shit list permanently. But I did what I had to do.”

“It wasn’t up to any of us to tell you where she was or that you had a kid,” Alcott adds. “None of that was ours to tell. She asked for our help, we gave it. It wasn’t anything personal against you. Although I still think she could have done a hell of a lot better than a two brain cell having, knuckle-dragging, nappy-headed bastard from Queensland.”

“I think it would do Millie a world of good to hear that you’re her dad,” Wick continues. “She needs something to hold onto, some kind of bright spot in all of this. She’s a little kid, and little kids need to know that everything is going to be okay. Hell, even us adults need to know that from time to time. She’s been asking about her dad for a while; who he is, where he is, why hasn’t she met him? And she doesn’t just get on her mom about it. She’s asked me. More than once.”

“She’s asked me several times,” Alcott admits. “She even once asked if I was her dad. I said to look at me and look at herself in the mirror. That alone should tell her I’m not the one that put the bun in her mother’s oven.”

“I just think that this is something that could undo some of the damage done this morning,” Wick says. “We all see how much she adores you. And vice versa. If she’s already head over heels and doesn’t know, imagine how she’ll be when she finds out. And I just can’t help but believe it’s better if you do it sooner than later.”

“Listen to him,” Alcott addresses Tyler. “That’s a man that knows what he’s talking about.”

“Ten minutes ago, you were worried he was going to get you killed out on the street. Now you’re kissing his ass?”

“We’re on the same page. Both of us feel it’s best for Millie if…”

“What do you either of you know what’s best for Millie? For MY daughter? She doesn’t belong to either of you.”

“Maybe not, but we’ve known her longer,” Alcott points out. “As much as I’m sure that hurts to hear.”

“Not my most favourite thing to think about, no.”

“The truth is, we’ve been in her life from the start,” Wick says. “When she was still inside her mother’s belly. Both of us have changed her diapers, fed her bottles, read her bedtime stories, tucked her in…”

“She’s puked on me more times than I care to remember,” Alcott adds. “And believe me, her mother will eventually get my cleaning bill.”

“Why would you think I want to hear this? You’re not making things any better, mate. I’m already pissed off enough. Bringing things like THAT up? Are you trying to get her ass handed to you or…”

“No one is trying to rub salt in the wound,” Alcott assures him. “But the fact of the matter is that we do know Millie better than you do. For now, anyway. I mean, I let her call me Uncle Duey, for fuck sake.”

Wick swigs his bourbon. “I’m Uncle John-John. Killer by night, Uncle John-John by day. My, how the mighty have fallen.”

“She’s a damn good kid,” Alcott continues. “Her mother has done an amazing job with her. And you should consider yourself lucky; you didn’t manage to knock up someone who would have gotten rid of your spawn the second they found out about it. This isn’t exactly the life we strive to bring kids into, is it? Give them dads who kill people for money?”

Tyler frowns; brow furrowed as he drums his fingertips against his glass. “That’s not all we do.”

“Aww mate…” Alcott chuckles and slaps a hand down onto his shoulder. “...don’t sugar coat it. Don’t romanticize it. That’s EXACTLY what we do. And one day, that little girl is going to grow up and she’s going to find out what her daddy really does for a living and…”

“What I DID for a living,” Tyler corrects him. “Past tense. By the time she’s old enough to understand it, I’ll have been out of the game for a few years.”

Alcott waves down the bartender. “The fact of the matter is that she WILL find out. Right now, you’re just the cool friend of her mother’s who can kick ass and take names. That’s how she sees it; you’re big and you’re strong and you’re here to keep her safe from the bad guys. But once she’s older…”

“I just think it’s better if she knows about you being about her dad before THAT happens,” Wick pipes up. “That’s my opinion. Take it with a grain of salt. But…”

“You must want her to know,” Alcott says. “That you’re her father. How could you NOT want her to know?”

“Of course I want her to know. You think I like this fucking game we’re playing with her? You think it doesn’t burn my ass every time she calls me by my first name? Or ‘this is my mum’s boyfriend. Do you really think it doesn’t bother me?”

“I think you’ve got a lot of anger stored up,” Wick says. “And I think the more you lie to Millie, the worse that anger is going to get and then you’re going to snap one day and say some shit you’ll regret. And then both her and her mother will be out of there.”

Grinning, Alcott nudges Wick with his elbow. “Now who’s the therapist?”

“I have my moments.”

Alcott addresses Tyler once more. “Isn’t five years enough? Wasn’t that enough time apart? Do you really want to let this shit fester and a year or two down the road, let it completely ruin things? For good?”

“That’s the last thing I want.”

“If Millie is anything like her mother…” The Brit tosses a wad of cash down on the bar when one of the tenders sets down a tray of shots. “...which we already know she is, she is going to be the type to hold one hell of a grudge when she’s older. So you can imagine what that’ll be like? If you keep up this bullshit? The more time that drags on, the more she’s going to resent both of you for not telling her the truth sooner. And the next thing you know, you gotta teenager who can’t stand being in the same room as you and would sooner spit in your face than look at you.”

Wick side-eyes him, then helps himself to a shot. “Are you SURE you don’t have kids?

“I don’t have kids. But I do have brothers and sisters. And I know how lies…even told with the best of intentions…can tear a family apart. Why would he want that to happen when he just got his family together?”

“HE is sitting right beside you,” Tyler reminds him. “HE can hear you.”

“Mate, in the long run, it’s your life. And from what I understand, that life has been quite shit the past few years. Now, you’ve managed to get her back; the woman that you love more than anything in this world. The person you’d gladly give up your own life for. Do you really want to hold onto this shit you’ve got bottled up and risk losing her? AGAIN?”

“It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t the reason Esme left.”

“You were and you weren’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. We all know that. But she did leave BECAUSE of you. To protect you. And I’m not going to judge that decision and we’re not going to debate whether she was right or wrong. And I’m certainly not going to pretend I understand anything about the situation she was put in…”

“But…”

“Enough lies have been told. Enough secrets have been kept. I think it’s high time that all of that shit stops. For you, for her, for Millie. For all of you as a family. You’re that little girl’s father. Whether you’re ready to be it or not.”

“I was ready to be ‘it’ the second I saw her and knew she was mine.”

“Then do your first good thing as a dad, and don’t lie to her. No more than you already have. She’s smart and she’s resilient and doesn’t have a hateful bone in her body. Not yet. But the older she gets…”

“What we’re trying to say is that you’re going to just fuck things up more,” Wick says. “Or at least that’s what I’M trying to say. I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about half the time.”

“I was ready to tell Millie the first day. That I was her dad. But it’s not my decision to make. It’s not…”

“Not alone, it isn’t,” Alcott downs his shot and the winces at the immediate burn. “But it’s half yours. Now I know it’s been a while since I’ve indulged in any extracurricular activities of the sort, but I’m pretty sure it takes two people to make a baby. Unless times and technology have changed since the last time I…”

Wick frowns. “Jesus, how long has it been?”

“Way too long, mate. Way too damn long.”

“But aren’t you…you know…with his ex-wife?”

“On and off. And without giving too much away and completely disrespecting her, I’m sure the big-headed, big-eared Australian and I can agree on the fact that she isn’t the most…what’s the word… affectionate…of people.”

“It’s like fucking a couch,” Tyler grumbles as he slides off his bar stool, then pulls his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. “Three or four times every six months.”

Alcott smirks. “Now THAT’S not nice. It’s true, but it’s NOT nice. At all.”

Wick nods in the Australian’s direction. “Where are you going?”

Tyler tosses a handful of bills down onto the top of the bar. “I’m not going to name names, but unlike certain individuals, I have a woman to get back to.”

“That’s right,” Alcott scoffs. “Just rub it in, you prick.”

“I’ll be rubbing it in while you’re rubbing it out.”

“You know, it’s moments like these where I don’t like you very much. Are you the one still holding a grudge? Because I drank all your milk?”

“You’re just damn lucky I hit that coffee cup. ‘Cause the meds had me pretty shaky that day. Be glad you still have your hand. Is that your favourite one? The one gets the most use?”

“I really do hate you sometimes, you know that, yeah?”

“You’d miss me, though. If I wasn’t around anymore.”

“In your wildest and wettest.”

“Last thing I want to do is sit around here, watching you two get shit-faced. Not when I’ve got a warm body waiting for me.”

“I don’t know what she sees in you. You’re certainly not the best catch on the planet. Not even close to it. She can definitely do better.”

“It’s okay to be jealous, mate.” He clamps both hands down on Alcott’s shoulders.. “ Especially when you’re not even on her short OR long list.”

“Now that’s just rude. Those are just fighting words. Give her a kiss, would ya? From both of us.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” Wick grumbles. “I prefer all my limbs attached to my body.”

“Get your beauty sleep, Australian,” Alcott calls to him as he heads through the room. “Good knows you need about ten years of it to look good even in your mother’s eyes.”

Tyler smirks. “That’s okay. Your mother thinks I’m perfect just the way I am.”

“You fucking asshole. You regular fucking muppet. I oughta come over there and rearrange your ugly face.”

Chuckling, Tyler steps out of the bar. “I’d like to see you try.”

******

He’s rougher than he needs to be. Using his considerable size and strength difference to punish her; able to convincingly hide the hurt, anger and bitterness under layers of voracious want and need. And she willingly takes everything he dishes out; her body eagerly responding to the tight grip around her throat, the yanking of her hair, and the brutally hard thrusts that have her crying out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

It had always been her favourite; that tiny body able to withstand enormous amounts of torment in the name of sexual gratification. Something he’d both discovered and marvelled at five years ago; amazed at not only the things she allowed him to do but so openly -and boldly- requested of him. And it remains all this time later, despite their absence from each other’s lives; the awe and the adoration and that powerful, all-consuming mixture of lust and love that nothing -or no one- else could ever come close to measuring up to.

The self-loathing makes a quick appearance; feeling the utmost disgust in himself as he lays in bed beside her. Listening to her soft rhythmic breathing as she sleeps soundly; her back presented to him, yet her head resting in the crook of his elbow, those long, dark tresses fanned out across his arm and the sheets below. He hates himself; for both manhandling her and continuing to harbour such resentment. And while it will be ever strong enough to undo the love and the adoration and pure, unadulterated worship that he’s carried for years, it is enough to slightly tarnish them. To make him feel sick to his stomach and despise himself for ever thinking such negative and hateful ways towards her.

Sighing heavily, he drapes a forearm across his brow and takes in slow, deep breaths; a somewhat successful attempt to chase away the ugliness that festers inside his brain. His own body bearing the effects of just how rough and unhinged things had been between them just two short hours before; deep and painful fingernail trails that crisscross his back and his ribs, bite marks that decorate his collarbone, shoulders, and even the inside of his thighs, a tingling scalp where having his hair twisted and yanked. Incredibly enjoyable at the time; her enthusiasm and her ability to ‘dish it out’ encouraging his intensity even more. But now he feels like shit; the conversations in the bar replaying in his head and his anger -towards both her and the situation that had seen her make the decisions she had- simmering just below the surface.

He’s teetering on the edge of sleep when he feels her stir; the slight shifting of the mattress under her tiny body, the absence of the weight of her head upon his arm as she changes positions. Rolling over under her side and sliding closer to him; a hand coming to rest on his stomach as she nuzzles his ear with the tip of her before pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“Why are you awake?”

He lays a palm on the back of her head; fingertips pushing through her hair to lightly and affectionately knead at her scalp. “I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“I had the weirdest yet mostly satisfying dream. About taking you and Millie to Colorado to meet the fam. My mom picked us up at the airport, called you Crocodile Dundee and insulted your haircut.”

“That’s oddly specific. What happened next?”

“You gave her very detailed instructions on how to fuck off and stay fucked off. I didn’t get right to the end, but I like to think you wrapped things up by slapping the shit out of her.”

“I don’t hit women.”

“Never? Ever? You’ve never hit a woman?”

“What kind of asshole do you think I am?”

“I don’t mean in your personal life. I know you’re not the type. I mean on the job. You’ve never had to resort to it?”

“Just once.”

“Was she a mark or…?”

“Another merc. Working FOR the mark. We got into it. Blood was shed. Only one of us walked away.”

“Well, I obviously don’t need to ask WHO.”

“Yaz got his ass handed to him by one. In Vienna. She absolutely wrecked him. And he’s tough; for such a small guy. But believe me; he couldn’t walk or piss right for a month afterwards.”

“You like to keep up with your friends’ urinating habits, do you?”

“Anyone ever tell you? That you’re a smart ass?”

“You used to tell me ALL the time. Makes me happy to hear it again; means we're getting back to the basics. The good ol’ days. And as for your future monster in law…”

He arches a brow.

“You wouldn’t even backhand her in dreamland? The Wicked Witch of the Midwest? The one who said you kidnapped her only girl and…I quote…’kept her captive in your den of blood and danger and kinky sex’?”

“I mean, she WAS right. About the sex thing.”

“She also called you Ty.”

“Now THAT’S a fighting word. Because of that? I suppose I could make an exception. Knock her out.”

“And here I was, thinking the selling point would be the decades spent making my life a living hell. I thought for sure you’d want to defend my honour. Seriously though…” She lightly runs her fingernails across his stomach. “....why ARE you awake?”

“It’s two thirty in the morning. Why are YOU so chatty?”

“It’s a gift. Answer my question.”

“I’ve always had trouble sleeping. Even back in Dhaka. And especially when we were living together. Come to think of it, I’m starting to see a pattern. The one thing all these places have in common.”

“Maybe it’s better you don’t sleep. Because I might kill you. Smother you with your pillow.”

Chuckling, he wraps an arm around her and pulls her tightly into his side. Lips meeting her brow before resting his chin on the top of her head. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“When it comes to the job?”

“Are we even calling it that anymore?”

“I mean, you WERE hired. You did show up. And you ARE doing what I employed you for.”

“But? I sense a ‘but’ coming on.”

“Well, there’s nothing really ‘normal’ about it. And Millie and I are definitely not ‘normal’ customers.”

“Everything about this is as far from normal as you can get. It’s personal. Way too close to home. I’m never THIS attached to who I’m looking out for.”

“You looked out for Mia’s sister and her kids. That’s pretty personal.”

“She was my ex-sister-in-law. And it was a job out of pure fucking guilt. Because I felt I owed it to Mia. After everything I had done to hurt her, I figured it was the least I could do.”

“What if you’d died doing it? Was giving up your life the ‘least’ of it, or…”

“At that time? Without you around? I didn’t give a fuck if I was alive or dead. So it wouldn’t have mattered much.”

“It would have mattered to me; if Nik or Yaz or even Alcott got a hold of me and said something happened to you. I wouldn’t have been able to handle that. The fact that I never got to say I was sorry or tell you that I still loved you or to bring Millie to you. So for what it’s worth, I’m glad that never happened. Because I may not have been in the picture, but I would have missed you for the rest of my life.”

Emotion chokes at him, and he places a hand on her hip and gives a tight, affectionate squeeze.

“I was going to come and see you. In Austria. At the prison.”

“Alcott told you I was there?”

Esme nods.

“Why didn’t you show up?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I guess I was scared. About how you’d react. It had been almost three years since I’d just disappeared. And you would have had every right to be pissed off enough to have me thrown out of there.”

“I was never THAT pissed off.”

“I also didn’t want it to happen there; the first time we saw each other again. Not exactly the ideal place for a reunion. I don’t think you would have wanted to find out about Millie while you were locked up. Me showing up would have been enough of a shock, never mind THAT.”

“It would have been a hell of a surprise. But I wouldn’t have been pissed off. I would have been relieved more than anything; to see that you were okay and to know that you even gave a shit what was going on with me.”

“I never stopped ‘giving a shit’ about you, Tyler. I worried about you all the time; practically every second of every day. But had I shown up there…”

“You could have been convinced to be a repeat visitor. I could have talked my way into conjugal visits.”

“I probably would have gone along with it. I bet you looked hot in that orange jumpsuit.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you.”

He remains quiet for several minutes, knuckles repeatedly grazing up and down and her spine, her nose pressed against the side of his neck.

“I wrote to you,” she confesses. “Every week for about a year.”

He frowns. “I never got anything.”

“I never sent any of the letters. I just sat down and poured my heart out and then got cold feet about mailing them. So I just put them in a box and tucked them away. They’re actually still in the back of my closet.”

“You kept them all this time?”

“Everything I wish I’d said and everything I should have done differently is in those letters. Even every apology I wish I’d made. There was always unfinished business. An open chapter. And if I got rid of the letters, it meant I was also getting rid of you. And I know I left, and it seemed like I didn’t want you anymore, but I wasn’t ready for it…for US…to be done. I don’t think I ever would have been.”

“Come here,” he beckons and wraps her in both of his arms; enjoying the scent that clings to skin and hair and the warmth that radiates from her naked body.

God, he’d missed it. He’d missed HER. The touch of her hands and the taste of her kiss. The sound of her voice and her laugh. And that smile that’s reserved solely for him; curving her lips and further softening her features and causing her eyes to sparkle and dance. And for several minutes, they lay in silence; the tension and the sadness eased by the familiar weight of her head upon his chest as a large, callused palm continuously strokes her hair.

“Maybe one day you’ll let me read them. You might have chickened out sending them when you wrote them, but…”

“Whenever you’re ready to see them, they’ll be there. And I think it might be good for both of us; if you look at them. Kinda like shutting the door on that part of our lives. Permanently.”

“I don’t think I’m ready right now. I don’t think I’m quite there yet.”

“Take your time. They’re not going anywhere. There’s no rush. I know there’s a lot going on right now; I’ve dumped enough on you in the past four days to last a lifetime. And I never intended to. I never…”

“You haven’t ‘dumped’ anything on me. Using that word makes it something there’s been nothing good. And believe me, Millie is worth more than any of the bad shit. I’d take a bullet to the neck a thousand times over if it meant she’d exist.”

“I just wish things had been different. When it comes to how I handled things. I had the best of intentions. I REALLY did. I panicked; I knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against The High Table, and I had to protect you. If anything had happened to you…”

“I can wrap my head around THAT. What I can’t get past is afterwards. When things went back to normal and they weren’t a threat anymore. That’s what I’m having a hard time getting past.”

“I already explained. I already…”

“I don’t want to be angry.”

“At me?”

He nods.

“You have every right to be, Tyler. I did a horrible thing to you. More than one, actually. And I can justify leaving; I feel I did the right thing when it came to protecting you. But staying under the radar for years and not telling you about Millie…”

“It’s the entire situation I want to be angry at. That I NEED to be angry at. If The High Table never showed up, everything else wouldn’t have happened. You didn’t know they were going to come for you. You thought you were in the free and clear and done with them. And when they came looking for you, you weren’t given much of a choice. It’s them I should be pissed with. Not you.”

“But…”

Firmly gripping the back of her head, he presses a kiss to her temple and then begins to uncoil her from his embrace; hating the absence of contact when he sits up against and leans against the headboard. One leg bent at the knee, he sighs heavily and rakes a hand through his hair and then runs both palms over his weary face.

“Do you think we can actually TALK about this? Without hurting feelings?”

Gathering the quilt around her naked body, Esme sits up as well. “I think feelings are already hurt, don’t you?”

“Without hurting them even more, then? Because I don’t want to fight, Esme. That’s the last thing I want. There’s enough bullshit going on without adding that to the list.”

“I don’t want that either. And I don’t want to fight about this, especially. But if talking is what you want to do…”

“Like rational, reasonable adults.”

She nods in agreement.

“First thing’s first. I need to ask you something. And you gotta promise me it won’t piss you off.”

“How bad is what you’re going to ask that you need a promise like that?”

“It’s not that it’s bad. It’s just…I don’t know…you might think I’m stupid for even thinking about it, let alone asking.”

“And you accuse me of being that one that talks in riddles? What…?”

“Did you and Alcott have something going?”

She can’t help but laugh. “What?”

“Did you ever have anything going with him? Relationship wise?”

“No. No. Omg, no. Never.”

“I mean, a relationship of ANY kind. Maybe you never boyfriend and girlfriend thing, but…”

“There’s no ‘but’. There has NEVER been anything between us other than friendship.”

“Did he ever want there to be?”

“Not that he’s ever told me. Or acted on. Colleagues and buddies, that’s it.”

“What about you? Anything YOU wanted? Or acted on? Or…”

“Tyler, men and women ARE capable of being just friends.”

“You and I weren’t.”

“You and I are in an entirely different league. We always have been. From pretty much the second we met. You never denied it; feeling ‘something’ right away.”

“Lust. It’s called lust. You know how there’s ‘love at first sight’? Well, that was lust at first sight.”

“Yeah, there was a lot of lust. But it was more than that and you know it.”

“Did you feel anything like that for him or…?”

“I have never felt anything for Russell. Other than platonic love. And maybe wanting to smack the shit out of him from time to time.”

Tyler smirks. “Russell. That’s kinda personal, don’t you think?”

“It’s his first name. What else am I supposed to call him?”

“Everyone calls him Alcott. EVERYONE.”

“Probably because they don’t know his actual name IS Russell. I like to call people by their first names. Especially my friends. You’ve always been a little uptight about these kinds of things; you’ve always hated the idea of anyone else being in my life. You don’t even like the fact I was married before we met.”

“What I hate is WHO you were married to. And the shit he did. That’s what I hate.”

“Admit it, you can’t handle the thought of me with anyone else. I bet you stressed about it constantly during the last five years.”

“No.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Sometimes.”

“I have a history. I have exes. So do you. You were married before me. You don’t see me obsessing over it. I mean, I don’t particularly like the idea of hearing about your slutty bachelor days, but I realize back then you had commitment issues. You’re a red-blooded male with needs and…”

“And you’re a red-blooded female. With needs.”

“Needs I was more than happy to tend to on my own. You’re the type that prefers having a participant with those things. Me…”

“I am more than capable of handling things on my own. Figuratively AND literally…”

“...I don’t need sex. I have gone YEARS without it. I’m capable of surviving without it.”

“That makes me feel great. Thanks for that.”

“If it’s already not glaringly obvious, I enjoy sex with you. I love having it with you. I could have sex with you all day, every day. For the rest of my life. But the fact is, I never gave a shit about it until YOU. It wasn’t a necessity. I’d never been with someone who could get the job done, know what I mean? I always relied on myself for getting there.”

“You have dated some real fucking winners, haven’t you.”

“I may not need sex, but I WANT sex. And I want it with you. Only you. No one else. And seeing as we haven’t seen each other in five years…”

“What about Alessio? You slept with him. You were going to marry the guy.”

“This isn’t about Alessio. Who was a job.”

“I’ve never had a job that required me to fuck someone.”

“I was his fiancee. I was playing a part. If I didn’t do THAT? He would have known something was up. And maybe it was drastic; going to those extremes. But I did. I allowed myself to feel beautiful. And wanted.”

“I wanted you.”

“And I fucked that up. I know that. But other than him? And this playing pretend? There’s never been anyone else. I haven’t wanted to be with anyone but you. And I tried. Not the sex thing, but the dating and the relationship stuff. I met people. Men, women. I went out a few times. And you know what? Every time they tried to take things further? All I did was compare them to you.”

Tyler blinks at her honesty.

“I have never wanted anyone else. I’m not afraid to admit that. And there’s never been a damn thing between Russell and I. He kept me updated on things you were doing; he contacted me about Georgia and Mia and her sister and all of that. And told me about you going to prison. Other than Millie, he was the strongest connection I had to you.”

“And Nik. And Yaz. All these people that knew you were okay.”

“All people I swore to secrecy and hated every second of it. They didn’t want to lie to you. I especially didn’t want to. And I don’t get your hang-up with Russell and me. You don’t ever question my friendship with Yaz.”

“That’s because he’s Yaz. He may have a huge hard-on for you…”

“He has a hard-on for me? What? He told you that?”

“...but I know you wouldn’t give him the time of day. Not like that. I know you see him like a little brother. But Alcott..”

“It’s because Alcott’s like you, right? He reminds you of yourself. And because I lusted you immediately and fell in love with you so quickly, it must mean it happened with him too.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know why it bothers me. How close the two of you are.”

“All I can do is tell you the truth. And reassure you. As many times as you need it. There has never been anything between us. On either of our parts. Nothing has even come remotely close to crossing a line. I know I hurt you and I betrayed you and you don’t exactly trust me right now…”

“I trust you. With my life. With my daughter’s life.” ‘ “...but I wouldn’t lie about this. I don’t see him in that way. I don’t see anyone in that way. It’s just you, Tyler. That I’ve wanted. It’s always been you. It will always be ONLY you.”

“You’d tell me, yeah? If there’d been anyone else? During the last five years? OTHER than that dick head, Alessio.”

“You were honest with me; about sowing your wild oats all over Australia and many parts of Europe. Why would I not tell you the truth? There hasn’t been anyone else. And there especially hasn’t been anything with Alcott. And there never will be.”

He nods slowly as he considers her words.

“On a side note, he’s banging your ex-wife, you know.”

“I don’t care what he’s doing to my ex. She’s my ex for a reason. She stopped being any of my concern a long time ago.”

“You were concerned enough to help her. To take the job. Put your life on the line to get her sister and her kids the hell out of Georgia.”

“It was a job. I was being paid.”

“Maybe. But there’s a history there. You were married to the woman. You had a child with her. I know the kind of guilt and regret you carry around. You can’t tell me those didn’t play a part.”

“How did we go from talking about us to talking about her? How…?”

“You want to talk. So let’s talk. Let’s get it all out there. Say the things we need to say. You’re not the only one who’s been holding onto some shit.”

“And now who’s worried about someone else’s history?”

“I don’t care about your history. I care about YOU. And when I heard about that job…”

“You left. I wasn’t the one who took off. You were. So I stopped being of any concern to you. Second you walk out that door…”

“No. It never stopped. I never stopped worrying about you. I didn’t leave because of something you did. Or didn’t do. I never took off because I didn’t love you. I took off because I did.”

“You know how you always say ‘opposites attract’? When it comes to us? Maybe most of the time, that’s true. But it’s not with this. You left, Esme. You left ME. Just like I left my boy. So we have THAT in common, don’t we.”

“I never blamed you for leaving your son. I said it was a stupid thing to do. I still think it was. But I also told you I understood why you did it. I sympathized with you. I still do. It was a horrible, horrible thing to go through; seeing your child sick and wasting away. And you’d never been taught coping skills and you had all that toxic masculinity and you…”

“Why did you leave?”

“I told you. I left to protect you”

“We could have found a way. To fight back. So tell me, why didn’t you stay?”

“I was scared and I was worried and I didn’t want anything to happen to you. I…”

“Esme…” His voice becomes more forceful. Demanding. “Why didn’t you stay?”

“Because I fucked up. Because I brought them to you. And I didn’t know what else to do. So I left. Because I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Silence descends on the room. An eerily still quiet that remains until she sniffles loudly; wiping at errant tears with the back of her hand.

“I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t fucking fix it”

“Why do you think I left my boy?”

“It’s not the same thing. It’s not…”

“It is. It IS the same thing. We left for the same reasons. And what happened because of it? We took off. And we hurt the only person that ever really gave a fuck about us.”

“I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know how to get away from them. I didn’t want them coming back. Not when you were there. I didn’t want them hurting you. Or worse.”

“We would have had time. To get the fuck out of there. We could have found a place to hide out. We could have flown under the radar and let Nik and John and even Alcott deal with The High Table. You didn’t have to leave.”

“I didn’t think of that. I was scared. You were still healing from Dhaka. And even if you’d been a hundred percent, you’re not invincible. You wouldn’t have beaten them, Tyler. Not on your own. Not even with a small army. They would have found us. No matter where we were hiding.”

“Don’t underestimate Nik. She would have put us far underground. No one would have been able to track us.”

“I didn’t even consider it. It didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Like you said; you were scared and you were worried. Kinda hard to think right under those circumstances. But Nik? She has no excuse for not coming up with a solution like that.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. That I didn’t think of those. That I didn’t stay. I wanted to. I wanted to be with you. I never wanted to leave.”

Reaching out, calloused fingertips push strands of hair off her forehead and tuck others behind her ears. “I know you didn’t.”

“We both fucked up. In the past. Only my fuck up lasted five years. And I not only hurt you, but I hurt Millie, too.”

“You didn’t hurt her. Not in the slightest.”

“I kept her away from her dad. For selfish fucking reasons. All because I was worried about rejection. Because I was scared you’d turn me away. That you’d turn US away.”

“I wouldn’t have. I’ve spent the last five years wondering where you were. HOW you were. Wanting you.”

“I’m a horrible person.”

“No. You’re not. You’re a good person who made a bad decision.”

“I remember saying those exact words to you. In Dhaka.”

“And you didn’t hurt Millie. Look how amazing she is. She’s healthy and happy and she’s so fucking smart, Me. And she’s beautiful and she’s perfect and she’s everything that’s great inside both of us all into one. You didn’t hurt her. And you definitely didn’t fail her. You’ve done an awesome job with her. And I’m lucky. Of all the people that are the mother to my kid, it’s you. Because a lot of other women never would have gone through with having her.”

“There was no way I was giving her up. Not while I was pregnant and definitely not after. And I needed to hear that from you. That I haven’t fucked her up. That I’ve done good with her. And BY her.”

“You’ve done more than good, believe me.”

“I am so sorry. That I screwed up so badly. That I left instead of trying to fix things. I really did do it because I didn’t think I had another choice. Because I was scared and worried and wanted to keep you safe.”

“I can accept that. I HAVE accepted it. But when everything was gone and you still stayed away? That’s what I’m having a hard time with. That I just can’t get past. And I want to; get past it.”

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to say. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to make this better. To make it right.”

“There’s nothing you can say. Or do. You’ve already done it all. It’s just me. It’s me needing time to process and accept it and move on from it.”

“So what does that mean for us? You don’t want there to be an us? Until you’ve done all that?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. At all. Of course, I want there to be an us. Did you not ask me to marry you?”

“Not in so many words, but…”

“And did I not say okay?”

She nods.

“I want you. I want US. I want to raise our daughter together. I want to get married and have more kids. I mean, if that’s what you want. More.”

She manages a weak, shaly smile. “A couple more wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’m actually looking forward to; finding out we’re having another one and seeing you pregnant. That’s one of the things I AM pissed about; that I didn’t get to see you like that. All cute and round, and the baby…MY baby…just growing and thriving in there.”

“I carried HUGE with Milile. People were always asking if there was more than one because of just how huge I was. I told them, ‘This is what happens when you procreate with a giant.’”

“I hope you know I’m going to be one of those insanely protective dads-to-be.”

“More protective than you already are with me? Is that even possible?”

“Don’t challenge me, Esme. You’d be surprised how far I can go with it. And I’ll deal with my shit; all the issues I’ve got going on because of what happened. But I’ll do it WHILE we’re together. I’m not worried about that; it causing problems between us or with our family. I just thought you needed to know that I AM still struggling with all of this; you staying away and keeping Millie from me. And I don’t know how long I’ll actually fight with it, but I will get over it. Eventually.”

“And you’ll still love me? Even when things seem extra hard?”

“I love you no matter what. I never stopped. Not once in those five years. I’ve always loved you. I always will.”

As he leans in to peck his lips, her fingers aggressively push through his hair. A long, trembling sigh escaping her when the hand on the nape of her neck tightens its grip; holding her firmly against him as he prolongs and deepens the kiss. Long, sinuous movements of lips and tongue, accompanied by naked limbs that glide and rub against each other as they once more sprawl out across the bed. And when air becomes a necessity, he pulls away and braces himself on both arms above her; a smile curving her lips as she reaches up to trace the line of his jaw.

“Can I ask YOU something now?”

“As long it’s not about my ex-wife, what happened between you and me five years ago, or what’s going to happen in less thirty-six hours.”

“It’s not about any of those things.”

“What do you want to ask me?”

“Is it true? That Yaz has a hard-on for me?”

Chuckling, Tyler leans down and nips at the side of her neck. “You’re a brat.”

“Did he actually tell you that? That he’s packing a woody for me?”

“I can’t give away all his secrets. I’ve said enough.”

“Did you threaten to rip from limb to limb if he even tried anything?”

“No.” He presses a series of warm, soft kisses across her collarbone, his beard scraping the pale, delicate skin. “I told him YOU would.”

[the-acid-pear]

No way home was such a movie I be having NWH flashbacks like i was in the war because fr that literally happened idk how I moved on I should be posting 59 pics of Norman Osborn a day