#john wick x aurelio

[thebunnednun]

The Fawn and the Wolf John Wick X Assassin! Reader (Part 1)

Warning: Eventual smut and violence. Size difference, predictor/prey, and other kinks.

Summary:

"Who the hell wants to marry a man they've never met?" Certainly not you. After staging your own death to escape a forced marriage orchestrated by your ruthless family, they retaliate by sending the infamous John Wick after you. Now, you're fucked in more ways than one. Evading Baba Yaga himself is no easy feat, especially when he's sympathetic to your plight but bound by a marker to bring you back. Amidst the chaos, you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to John, his allure undeniable as you embark on a thrilling game of cat and mouse across the globe. As the stakes escalate and the danger intensifies, you're caught between loyalty and freedom, you face a daunting choice that could change your life forever. What are you going to do? Marry the man your family has picked for you? Or do you start over with the surprisingly kind killer you meet?

Notes:

This is my First John Wick fanfic! I just finished the movies and wish I watched them sooner. In this narrative, certain deceased characters resurface, their roles pivotal to the plot, although not all events adhere strictly to canon. The timeline aligns closely with the events leading up to the fourth movie The only original characters are your family members. I will add a playlist for this later.

-----------------------Chapter 1: A Rainy Reception-----------------------

The rain fell heavily, each drop a tiny hammer against the pavement, as John Wick stepped out of his car, the relentless downpour quickly soaking through his coat. Beside him, the Bowery King emerged from the passenger seat, his fedora pulled low over his brow.

They moved with purpose toward the grand mansion ahead, its lights a faint beacon in the night. A tall, silent butler waited at the entrance with an umbrella, shielding John and the Bowery King from the worst of the rain as he led them inside. The transition from the cold, wet night to the warm interior was jarring. The mansion was dimly lit, corridors lined with rich, dark wood and plush carpets that muffled their footsteps.

The butler ceremoniously pushed open the imposing wooden doors, revealing a cavernous living space ensnared in a palpable tension. In one dimly lit corner, two figures loomed, engaged in an intense, hushed altercation, their silhouettes etched with conflict against the subdued light.

Across the room, a woman occupied a plush armchair, bathed in the soft glow of a nearby lamp. Her posture rigid, she seemed lost in the glow of her phone screen, oblivious to the charged atmosphere enveloping her.

Meanwhile, at the love seat, another woman's furrowed brow betrayed her vexation as she meticulously sifted through a stack of papers. The lamplight cast harsh shadows across her features, accentuating the strain etched upon her face as she wrestled with the weight of her responsibilities.

John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, their senses keenly attuned to the tension in the air. 

The first man broke off his argument and approached John, extending a hand. "Mr. Wick, thank you for coming," he said, his voice a mixture of relief and urgency. He was a man of moderate stature, with a tailored suit that bespoke both elegance and authority. His dark red hair was meticulously styled, framing a face marked by sharp angles and a gaze that flickered with a blend of admiration and barely contained arrogance. 

John shook his hand, noting the faint red marks on the man’s face, resembling a slap with claw-like scratches. "You called, I came," John replied, his tone neutral.

John’s eyes swept the room. This family was different from the others he had encountered in his line of work. There was a genuine sense of concern here, a seeming desire to protect one another was rare among the families he typically dealt with. 

"Please, follow me," the man said, leading John to a side room—a cozy, well-appointed office. The décor was traditional, dominated by dark wood and leather. A photograph on the desk caught John’s eye: a young girl, smiling brightly as she held a bouquet of flowers at what appeared to be her birthday party. Her expression was one of pure, unfiltered joy.

"We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us," he said, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken concerns. "I'm Nick. Nick Morales."

The man gestured to a chair. "Have a seat," he said, taking his own seat across from John. "We need your help to bring back our Fawn."

John raised an eyebrow. "Fawn?"

The man nodded. "That’s what we call her. She has these big, doe eyes." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "She’s gone missing, and we can’t let this disrupt the family’s image."

The younger man who had been arguing with him followed them into the room. He looked noticeably younger, perhaps in his early twenties, with a lean build and an intense expression. His eyes darted between Nick and John before he took a step back, clearly sensing Johns curious gaze. 

He had a slight smirk on his face as he glanced at his older counterpart. "A tantrum," the younger man said, prompting a glare from the elder.

John's curiosity was piqued. "Tantrum?"

The elder man sighed, the red marks on his face catching the light. "Yes. Things got out of hand."

The younger man chuckled, earning another glare. "She’s got spirit, I’ll give her that." After a brief moment, he excused himself and slipped out of the room, leaving the three of them to the tense atmosphere of the spacious living room.

John leaned back in his chair, assessing Nick. "I’ll need more information. Each of you will give me your version of what happened. Maybe then I can piece together the truth."

The elder man nodded. "Fine. We’ll tell you everything you need to know. Start with me."

As John prepared to dive into the first interview, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone in this room wasn’t being entirely truthful. The question was who, and why. He would have to tread carefully, piecing together the fragments of their stories to uncover the real reason behind the young woman’s disappearance.

John and the Bowery King sat side by side, facing Nick across his expansive wooden desk. The photograph of the young woman at her birthday party stood prominently, her smile bright and full of life. John noted the detail—it was clear Nick valued tradition and perhaps had stood in for her father during the celebration.

Nick leaned back in his chair, his expression one of contemplation mixed with worry. "She’s always been spirited," he began, a hint of fondness in his voice. "Born stubborn. We often butt heads over it.Trying to punish her was often futile. She usually gets the upper hand."

John listened intently, his gaze unwavering. "Tell me more about the night she disappeared."

Nick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She was frustrated. We had a disagreement about the future. The family has... other plans for her. It escalated, and she stormed out. Later that night, we realized she was gone."

The Bowery King interjected, "And the slap mark on your face?"

Nick’s hand unconsciously moved to his cheek. "During our argument, she lashed out. It’s not the first time. She’s got a fiery temper, but this time... it was different. She was more determined, more desperate."

John leaned forward slightly. "What about her aspirations? Getting out isn’t a typical path for someone in this... environment."

Nick nodded, his expression softening as he looked at the photograph. "She’s smart, driven. Always wanted to do something more with her life. I understand her wants, but we have to do what's best for the family. Sacrifices have to be made. Everyone does their share here. We all do."

John’s eyes narrowed. "So she left because she felt trapped?"

"Partly," Nick admitted. "She’s always been our Fawn, the youngest, so we’ve always looked out for her. Losing her means losing more than just a family member.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Nick’s words hanging heavy in the air. John considered everything he’d heard so far. The story was starting to take shape, but there were still pieces missing.

Nick broke the silence. "Each of us has a different opinion on the matter. Maybe talking to the others will give you more insight."

John nodded. "I’ll speak with everyone.”

Nick met John’s gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of conflicting emotions. Within a slip second, his gaze hardened. 

"We just want her back. Safe and sound."

With that, Nick stood, signaling the end of the first interview. The Bowery King gave Nick a reassuring nod as they both followed John out of the office, ready to piece together the rest of the story from the other family members.

“I’m coming in!”

As David entered Nick's office without hesitation, his presence was like a gust of wind, stirring up the calm atmosphere. He was dressed in a casual yet refined style, reflecting his laid-back personality. His dark blue curly hair, with streaks of vibrant colors, framed his face, giving him a distinctive look. The family symbol faded into the sides of his haircut, a subtle nod to his roots.

Ignoring the usual formalities, David addressed Nick directly. "I'm here to poach them, Nick," he declared, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Nick, slightly annoyed, waved them off, knowing David's penchant for impulsive decisions.

As they made their way to David's office, the Bowery King couldn't help but notice the change in David's appearance. "What's with the hair?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

David chuckled, running a hand through his colorful locks. "Bright Eyes did this. She wanted to leave her mark before she left."

“So, David, we heard you got some insight into what happened with the Fawn,"John said, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

David, slightly shorter than Nick, sported dark blue curly hair cut in a taper, with the family symbol faded into the sides. He exuded a laid-back demeanor, contrasting with Nick's more formal disposition. His tanned skin was complemented by his navy suit. "Yeah, we've been trying to piece it all together. Starshine’s been like a ghost since she left." 

John nodded, his mind was still processing the details Nick had provided. David had led them down a hallway and stopped at a painting of a log cabin seven doors down from Nick’s office. John watched as David’s fingers quickly found a latch allowing the image to pop open. They reached another door, which opened to reveal David’s office. The room was more personal, less formal than Nick’s, with a distinct sense of nostalgia hanging in the air.

“Welcome to the lounge!” 

In David's office, the fusion of modern technology and Caribbean aesthetics was striking. Colorful tapestries hung on the walls, complementing the sleek gadgets scattered around the room. The space felt inviting, with comfortable couches inviting them to relax.

David gestured for them to take a seat on the comfortable couches, a contrast to the formal setting of Nick's office. 

"Make yourselves at home, fellas," David said, his voice warm with hospitality. "Take a load off, fellas," David said, gesturing to the couches with a sweep of his hand. "Can I get you something to drink? Rum? Whiskey? I've got a few options that might suit you."

John nodded appreciatively, while the Bowery King opted for a glass of rum. As David poured the drinks, John's eyes wandered to the photograph on the coffee table. In the picture, you were clad in pajamas, and beamed with youthful joy. Surrounded by the family on what appeared to be a Christmas morning.

"That's a beautiful photo," John remarked, his voice soft with genuine admiration.

David's gaze softened as he glanced at the picture. "Yeah, it's one of my favorites. That was a good day, you know? We were all together, no worries, just enjoying each other's company."

He paused, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "Those eyes of hers... they've seen a lot, but they still have that same innocence somehow."

John leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "You mentioned the nickname 'Sunshine.' What's the story behind that?"

David chuckled, a hint of fondness in his tone. "When she's grumpy, I call her Sunshine to lift her mood or be an ass. Just depends, really."

The Bowery King studied the photographs adorning the walls of David's office, his gaze lingering on one in particular. "Ironic you call her a Fawn. Her eyes... they're so bright."

David's expression softened as he glanced at the picture. "Yeah, she hates it when we call her that. But you can't deny the resemblance.” He chuckles and hands the men a different picture. “She looks just like a deer in headlights if you startle her. The nickname stuck through childhood." He leans back into the coach with his eyes trained on the photos. 

As John methodically flipped through the binder Nick had handed him, each page revealed a new layer of the Fawn’s past assignments. His gaze shifted to David, a silent promise reflected in the depths of his steely eyes.

The Bowery King leaned forward, his curiosity evident. "What sort of tasks did she undertake while she was with the family?"

David's features darkened, a bitter edge seeping into his expression. "She had her hands in everything," he admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. "From infiltrating crime rings by posing as innocent girls, ransoms or kidnappings, to carrying out seduction missions. She mostly got rid of the garbage."

John's jaw tensed as he absorbed the weight of each revelation. "And her age when she started?" he inquired, his tone betraying his growing concern.

David's face contorted with bitterness as he spoke the words. "Seven," he admitted, the syllables heavy with the burden of the truth. He set down his glass and faced the men head on. Now, he was serious. 

The gravity of that admission settled heavily upon John's shoulders, John's resolve only strengthened. Seeing the shift in David, John settled into his chair, the Bowery King beside him, both men attentive. 

The Bowery King's brows furrowed in disbelief. "Seven? That's young to be involved in all of this," he remarked, his voice tinged with questioning.

David's expression grew more solemn. “Despite everything she's been through, she still sees the good in people. With her job I don’t know how the fuck she does it."

John shot him a sharp glance, a silent warning to tread carefully. He understood the implications of such a revelation. But dwelling on it now would only distract them from their goal.

"We need to focus on finding her," John said, his tone clipped and to the point. "The past is done. We're here to bring her back, no matter what it takes."

David nodded, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He knew better than to dwell on the past, to let it cloud their judgment in the present.

"Tell me about the night she left."

David sighed deeply, his eyes reflecting the weight of his memories. "We were all here, trying to have a family dinner. But tensions were high. She and Nick had another argument. It was about her future again. She’s been so focused on becoming a lawyer, but... the family business demands sacrifices." 

He paused, his voice thick with emotion. "After the argument, she left the table. I thought she just needed some air. It wasn’t until later that we realized she was gone."

The Bowery King spoke up, his tone probing. "And the slap mark on Nick’s face?"

David’s expression darkened slightly. "She’s got a temper, no doubt about it. She slapped him, her sharp nails left those claw marks. But it wasn’t just about anger. There was hurt there, deep hurt. She feels like we’re holding her back, trapping her."

John leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "Do you think she left to pursue her dreams? Or is there more to it?"

David hesitated, glancing at the photograph again. "She wants to be free, to follow her own path. But it’s not just about becoming a lawyer. She feels suffocated by the expectations, the pressure. She wants to help people. And here... she feels like she’s just a pawn."

John considered this, the pieces of the puzzle slowly coming together. He needed something more. "What does she mean to you, David? Personally.”

As David hesitated, his gaze shifting to the photograph once more, he spoke with a mixture of fondness and concern. "She's everything," he admitted, his voice softening. "More like a daughter to Nick and a sister-like cousin to me."

John nodded, understanding what he meant. "What do you think happened to her?" he asked, his tone edged with urgency.

David sighed deeply, a troubled expression crossing his features. "I'm not sure," he confessed. "Starshine turned off all her trackers before she left. Here," he reached for a remote on the coffee table, selecting a video of a burning estate. "This might shed some light."

As they watched the footage, David explained, "During her youth, Nick was taking care of her while in the military. He sent her away while on tour." He paused, his voice tinged with bitterness. "She was sent to live under the care of Cordelia, a terrible woman of the underground. She was known as a prominent matchmaker. She used stolen girls to carry out arranged marriages. If you weren’t married off she’d use you for…. other missions."

As David played the video of the burning estate, the screen flickered with images of flames engulfing the once-grand structure. The news report accompanying the footage described the scene in vivid detail, with some locals referring to it as an inferno that consumed everything in its path.

"The fire broke out in the dead of night," David explained, his voice grim as he recounted the events. "It spread quickly, devouring the estate within minutes. The rest of the area is fine though."

The news anchor's voice echoed through the room, detailing the confusion of firefighters about the containment of the blaze as it raged on. Smoke billowed into the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the surrounding area.

"Authorities are still investigating the cause of the fire," the anchor continued, "but eyewitnesses report seeing mysterious figures fleeing the scene before the flames erupted."

John's brow furrowed as he absorbed the information, a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach. The Fawn’s connection to the estate and its destruction raised more questions than answers, adding another layer of complexity to the mystery surrounding her disappearance.

As the news report concluded, David turned the volume off and kept his eyes on the screen, the room enveloped in a heavy silence. The burning estate loomed large in their eyes.

“You know, you live with someone your whole life and watch them grow up to be so sweet. It makes you forget how dangerous they can be.”

David's caramel skin contrasted with the cooler tones from the TV. "I suspect she's somewhere near New York by now," he added, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

The Bowery King, intrigued by David's role in the family, posed a question. "What do you do, David?"

David hesitated, his gaze shifting to John before answering. "I work as the family accountant and tech personnel," he replied before shifting back into his easy going nature. "If you mean in the familiar sense, I'm the one who often stirs the pot, taking Bright eye’s side in most arguments and helping her wiggle out family duties so she can live her life."

John studied David's features, noting the similarities between him and the Fawn.

"Nick and I often clash over what's best for her," David admitted, a hint of defiance in his tone. "But we both want her to be safe, no matter what. You know what happens in this life when your family isn’t there to protect you."

While David's gaze turned back to the flickering images of the burning estate John absorbed his words, the weight of their meaning settling heavily upon him. He couldn't help but mentally note the differences between David and Nick, their contrasting appearances reflecting their divergent personalities.

Turning his attention back to David, John posed a question that had been weighing on his mind. "Between you and Nick, who do you think she'd listen to more?"

David's brow furrowed in thought, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "It's hard to say," he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation. "Nick is stricter but he does love her. I've always been the one she turns to when she needs a favor." 

John nodded, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the cusp of uncovering something more sinister.

Before John could stand, David opened a drawer and pulled out a small box. He slid it across the desk to John. "I almost forgot. We’ve placed trackers in her earrings and her earbud case. I can’t get a read on her location yet. Once I override the bugs you’ll be able to track her exact location."

John opened the box, inspecting the discreet tracking devices. "This will be useful. Thank you, David."

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of their shared mission hanging heavy in the air. With each passing moment, the urgency of their task became more apparent.

The silence was broken by the clicking of the lock, a sound that reverberated through the corridor like a distant echo. John and the Bowery King exchanged a quick glance, their senses sharpened by the unexpected interruption. Instinctively, John's hand drifted towards his holster, ready for whatever might come through the door.

As the woman skillfully undid the lock, David couldn't help but whine, "You better not teach Nick the code, Joselyn."

She chuckled, her fingers deftly working the mechanism. "Oh, come on, David. It's not that much of a secret. If Nick wanted to come in, he absolutely would."

With the lock finally disengaged, Joselyn swung the door open, greeting John and the Bowery King with a warm smile. "Welcome, gentlemen," she said cheerfully. "Please, follow me."

She led the way down the corridor, her lively persona filling the air with energy. As they walked, Joselyn couldn't resist taking the Bowery King's arm, a simple gesture of respect for her elders.

"We're just across from David's office," she explained, her voice bright and welcoming. "I've got some tea brewing if you're interested. And maybe a few snacks, too."

As they reached her office, Joselyn ushered them inside, the space reflecting her eclectic tastes and organizational prowess. With a wave of her hand, she gestured for them to make themselves comfortable, her warm demeanor putting them at ease.

Her office was meticulously organized, with a sense of order and precision. A picture of the reader, much younger, wearing a kindergarten graduation cap and holding a diploma for "Best Future Lawyer," was prominently displayed. Another picture of her wedding stood next to it

Joselyn gestured for them to sit, taking her place behind the desk. "Would you like some snacks?" she offered, pointing to a tray of assorted nuts and dried fruits on her desk.

The Bowery King nodded appreciatively. "Don't mind if I do," he said, reaching for a handful. John politely declined with a slight shake of his head.

"Now, what can I do for you gentlemen?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "How can I assist in your endeavors today?"

As John and the Bowery King settled in, John couldn't help but ask, "Joselyn, what exactly is it that you do here? 

The Bowery King, always one for understanding the full picture, pressed on. "But the jobs you do now, what are they exactly? And the Fawn’s current role?"

Joselyn leaned back, her demeanor shifting to one of professional seriousness. "I run an agency that focuses on finding missing children and disrupting human trafficking networks. It’s dangerous work, but it’s what drives me. The Fawn, when she isn’t in hiding, assists with some of the more covert operations. Her skills make her invaluable in rescuing those who have been taken and dismantling trafficking rings."

"And she started this life so young," the Bowery King mused, shaking his head.

"Yes," Joselyn replied, her voice tinged with regret. "It’s a harsh reality, but it's also what makes her so effective. A double edged sword, really.”

John nodded, appreciating the gravity of what Joselyn was saying. "Thank you for sharing this with us. It helps us understand the stakes."

Joselyn smiled softly, though her eyes remained serious. "Just be careful. Mamita is young but she isn’t someone you want to underestimate. She's survived this long for a reason."

“And what’s the story behind the Fawn being sent to Cordelia?"

The mention of Cordelia sent a noticeable shift through Joselyn. She took a deep breath, her usual warm demeanor clouding with anger. Her voice lowered to a hushed tone. "Unfortunately, I am still a ‘made woman’. As for the witch, I tried to get custody of her, you know. But I was denied because I was 'too young' and not married yet. That poor girl... Cordelia was a nightmare. It was impossible to get her out of the contract."

She took a deep breath, composing herself before speaking. "Mamita was just a child when she began her training. It’s something I never agreed with. She was far too young, as was Amalia, who was trained at the same time. Amalia, fortunately, has retired now."

John’s curiosity was piqued. "How did Amalia manage to retire?"

Joselyn's expression softened slightly. "Mamita always loved Amalia like a blood sister. She made sure that when Amalia wanted out, she could get out safely. I don’t know what she did. She refuses to tell us. Amalia now leads a quiet life and can keep her children away from all this."

The Bowery King nodded, absorbing the information. "And what about your marriage?”

A wistful smile touched Joselyn's lips. "Yes, when it came to my marriage, I had to complete an impossible task. She was my cheerleader. I can’t go into the details, but she did it because she really wanted my now-husband in the family."

John's curiosity deepened. "Why was that so important to her?"

Joselyn's eyes sparkled with warmth and a hint of mischief as she recounted, "Mamita’s exact words were, 'Because you're soulmates,’ cute, isn’t it?

Turning the conversation, John asked, "Tell us about the Fawn’s relationship with your husband." He couldn’t allow his mind to start flooding with images of Helen.

Joselyn smiled wistfully. "He calls her 'muñeca,' meaning baby doll. He respects her dream and sees her as the goofy kid he once met. She gifted him a pair of golden-rimmed glasses that he often wears to match mine. Despite everything, he tries to make her feel safe and loved."

The Bowery King interjected,”The sister he never had?” 

“Exactly.”

"Would he be hiding her?" John probed.

Joselyn shook her head firmly. "No. If he knew where she was, he would have taken her home, even though he doesn't agree with everything we do."

John leaned forward slightly. "And why didn't you leave to join your husband’s family?"

A shadow passed over Joselyn’s face. "He's an orphan. We decided not to have kids until we can raise them without worrying about the family’s constant turmoil."

The Bowery King nodded, appreciating the depth of Joselyn's commitment. "You've sacrificed a lot."

Joselyn shrugged with a sad smile. "We all have. But we do what we must to keep those we love safe."

The Bowery King’s curiosity was piqued. "And who is this 'Mamita’s' best friend, Michelle?" He passed over a picture of a young woman with platinum hair and a slender figure from the binder. 

Joselyn’s expression softened slightly. "Michelle is actually Nick's age. She was almost sold off when Nick tried to rebel and leave the service.” Her hands turned to shredding a stress ball on her desk.

Joselyn’s shoulders were tense as she recounted the night. “Mama assassinated Cordelia and helped the other girls escape. We had to pay billions to cover it up.” She closes her eyes before sighing deeply through her nose. “Michelle disappeared the same night Mama left after going to confession, and we assume they're together. Nick wants to find Michelle on his own."

The Bowery King frowned. "Confession?”

"Michelle is Catholic, and Mama enjoys going with her to pray for her victims," Joselyn explained. John noted this mentally, intrigued by the implication of an assassin clinging to religion.

Joselyn took a moment, her expression grave as she met John's gaze. "I think it's time I'm completely transparent with you. Mama isn't just an assassin for our family's interests. She's a hired gun, servicing the highest bidders, whoever they may be."

John's eyes narrowed slightly as he absorbed her words. It struck him as peculiar that a family would send one of their own daughters to carry out such perilous tasks instead of relying on their established network of operatives. His mind raced with conjecture, weaving a tapestry of suspicion and intrigue.

Why would they entrust such responsibilities to someone so young and potentially volatile? Was there more to the Fawn's involvement than met the eye?

As Joselyn's voice faded into the background, his thoughts grew more insistent. Perhaps the Fawn had stumbled upon a secret, something she wasn't meant to see. And this arrangement—her role as an assassin—could be the family's way of ensuring her silence. It was a chilling possibility, but one that resonated with the shadows lurking beneath the surface of their world.

He blinked, refocusing on Joselyn's earnest gaze. "Thank you for being honest with us, Joselyn."

Joselyn's nod held a hint of understanding. "Just be careful, John. You know an animal is more dangerous when wounded."

John acknowledged her warning with a curt nod, his mind already racing with strategies and contingencies. As they delved deeper into the intricacies of their mission, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were treading on treacherous ground. 

John leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Joselyn. "Where do you think your Fawn might have gone?"

Joselyn sighed, tapping her fingers lightly on the desk as she considered the question. "There are two likely places. New York or Japan. She has an apartment in Japan, and New York was our home base."

"Where would she be in those cities?" John pressed.

"In New York, you'll most likely find her in a park or casino. She doesn't like to gamble—it's more about the thrill of the card games. If you need to keep her attention, playing a game with her might be your best bet. But be warned: she's very cunning and deceptive. If she thinks you're a threat, she'll leave. Mama doesn’t like to fight unless absolutely necessary."

"And in Japan?" John asked.

"Adores the scene culture there- especially dance clubs. She could be hiding Michelle in one of her apartments there. If you find Michelle, she will come after you. But you need to be extremely careful.” Her hands were now flat against the polish glass of her desk. “If she believes Micheale is in any danger, she'll kill you on sight. She's fiercely protective."

The Bowery King interjected, his voice thoughtful. "And why would she hide Michelle in Japan?"

"Japan's a place where she can lay low and blend in. She has friends and safehouses there, and it's far enough from here to avoid immediate detection. Michelle didn’t agree with the decision either and she probably wants time away from Nick." She slowly slides her hands into her lap. “I couldn’t go with her because of work. So I’m glad someone is with her.”

John nodded, digesting the information. "So, New York or Japan, dance clubs or casinos. And if it comes down to it, I should be prepared to play a game with her."

"Exactly," Joselyn affirmed. "But remember, she's unpredictable. She's been through a lot, and her instincts are sharp. Approach with caution."

"Thank you, Joselyn," John said sincerely. "This gives us a direction."

Joselyn nodded, her expression a mix of concern and determination. A debating look crossed her face before Joselyn reached for a small frame on her desk, a recent picture nestled inside. With a gentle smile, she handed it to John.

"Here," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of sadness. "You should take a more recent picture of her. She's... she's quite beautiful, isn't she?"

As John accepted the picture from Joselyn, his breath caught in his throat as he took in the image. His eyes were drawn immediately to the subject—you. In the photo, you exuded a softness that seemed to radiate from within. Your complexion was flawless, with a natural glow that hinted at youthful vitality. Your features were delicate yet defined, each contour lending an air of elegance to your appearance.

Your hair cascaded in soft waves around your shoulders, framing your face in a way that accentuated your delicate features. A gentle smile played at the corners of your plump lips, adding a touch of sweetness to your expression. 

But it was your eyes that captured John's attention the most. Large and doe-like, they held a sweet mischievousness that seemed to pierce through the photograph, drawing him into their depths. At the same time, they were pools of warmth and innocence. He could tell you had a figure under the sweater dress you sported. Yet beneath the outfit, there lay a quiet strength in your arms and legs that spoke volumes.

In that moment, you really did reminded him of a deer, graceful and vulnerable yet capable of resilience.

As John studied the picture, he couldn't help but marvel at her beauty. She was a vision of purity and innocence, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of their world. And yet, there was a strength in your gaze as you looked into the camera. 

"She is," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Joselyn's gaze softened as she watched him, her own sadness mirrored in her eyes. "I’m still fighting the marriage order.”

The Bowery King leaned over to glance at the picture, his expression contemplative. "She looks too young," he remarked quietly, his voice tinged with concern.

The words snapped John out of his reverie, his thoughts jolting back to the task at hand. Whatever he was thinking, he dismissed it immediately. John nodded in agreement, his mind shifting gears as he placed the photograph in his suit's breast pocket.

"Thank you," he said, his voice steady once more. "We appreciate your help, Joselyn. We'll be in touch."

The Bowery King nodded in agreement. "Yes, we appreciate everything you've done for us."

Joselyn smiled warmly, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "It's been my pleasure. Thank you for trusting me."

A small, soft knock echoed through the office, drawing the attention of John, the Bowery King, and Joselyn. They exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the interruption. Rising from their seats, they approached the door together.

As she stepped aside to open the door, a figure appeared in the doorway. With a soft smile, Joselyn stepped back to allow the newcomer to enter.

"Amalia," she greeted warmly, her voice tinged with affection.

Amalia, the retired operative, stepped into the room, her presence calm and composed. She nodded politely to John and the Bowery King, acknowledging their presence with a small smile.

"Joselyn," she said, her voice gentle. "I heard you had visitors. I hope I'm not intruding."

Joselyn shook her head, her smile widening. "Not at all. These gentlemen were just leaving. Thank you again for your help, John, Mr.King."

With a final nod of farewell, John and the Bowery King made their way out of the office, leaving Joselyn and Amalia alone together. As the door closed behind them, the room fell into a comfortable silence, filled with the quiet camaraderie of old friends reunited.

“Come along, mine is the second to last one.”

The hallway was dimly lit, the only source of illumination coming from the sporadic flashes of lightning that streaked across the sky outside the large window at the end of the corridor. As John and the Bowery King made their way towards Amalia's office, the sound of rain battering against the windowpane filled the air, adding to the somber atmosphere of the building.

Amalia's office stood apart from the others, a solitary beacon of light as almost everything inside was creme or white with black accents. Situated next to the expansive window, it offered a view of the storm raging outside, the turbulent clouds casting eerie shadows across the room. The minimal decorations within only served to accentuate the starkness of the space, a far cry from the warmth and liveliness of Joselyn's office.

As they approached, John and the Bowery King couldn't help but notice the scattered toys strewn about the room, a stark contrast to the seriousness of their mission. Squishy toys lay abandoned on the floor, their bright colors standing out against the muted tones of the office. A small play kitchen sat in one corner, its plastic utensils and pretend food scattered haphazardly across the miniature countertops.

Amalia greeted them with a weary smile as they entered, her tanned skin glowing softly in the dim light. Her long wavy black curly hair cascaded down her back, framing her face in a halo of darkness. Despite her petite stature, there was a quiet strength in her gaze that spoke volumes, a resilience forged through years of hardship and sacrifice.

"Excuse the toys on the floor," she said quietly, her voice tinged with resignation. "I haven't had much time to tidy up."

John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, a small chuckle escaping them as they gently set aside a squishy toy that had been inadvertently sat upon. The tension in the room eased slightly, replaced by a sense of camaraderie amidst the chaos.

Before they could ask their questions, Amalia took a deep breath, her expression serious. "I'm over this," she said firmly. "I'll be explaining everything."

Her words hung in the air, a solemn promise of revelations to come. And as the storm raged outside, it seemed as though the tempest within was about to be unleashed.

"We were inseparable," she explained, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "After my father was taken out during an assignment and my mother was killed in a tuff war, we only had each other. Our grandmother raised us, but it was [Name] who became my rock.”

John couldn't help but notice that it was the first time anyone had used your first name, and he couldn't deny how lovely it sounded. But he quickly refocused, his attention returning to the weight of the conversation at hand.

"The same thing happened to [Name]," Amalia continued, her voice heavy with emotion. "We witnessed it, and we killed the people responsible. And that's when it was decided that we would become assassins."

John and the Bowery King listened intently, the gravity of Amalia's words hitting home. They knew that the life of an assassin was fraught with danger, but hearing about the tragic events still spurred something within them.

Amalia paused, her gaze flickering towards the window where the storm raged on outside. "I'll spare you the whole sob story of the training," she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "But I hated having to be both people. A daughter of a prominent family and a trained killer. And [Name] hated it too. It was destroying her mental health."

The notion of Amalia's last name caught John's attention, and he couldn't help but wonder about its significance. "Morales," he said, his voice thoughtful. "Is that your husband's last name?"

Amalia shook her head, her expression somber. "No," she said quietly. "But I only kept it out of obligation. The truth is, I've never felt like I truly belonged to that family. And now, with everything that's happened... I'm not sure I ever will."

John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, recognizing the significance of the family name in the context of their world. They knew that in the shadowy underworld they operated in, family ties ran deep, binding individuals to a legacy of blood and loyalty.

"I see," John replied, his tone respectful. "Family is everything, especially in our line of work."

Amalia nodded, a hint of resignation in her eyes. "Yes, it is," she agreed quietly. "But sometimes, family can also be a burden, a weight that drags you down when all you want is to break free."

Her words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the complexities of their shared existence. And as the storm raged on outside, it seemed as though the tempest within her heart was taking physical form. 

The Bowery King's question hung in the air, the weight of its implications sinking in. "What happens hypothetically if we can't find her?" he asked, his tone somber.

Amalia's reaction was immediate, a surge of anger bubbling to the surface. "I have to take over!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with frustration. She paused, taking a moment to collect herself before continuing, her tone tinged with bitterness. "I never wanted this life, but I have no choice. If [Name] isn't here to fulfill her duties, then it falls to me."

John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, the gravity of Amalia's words not lost on them. They had known that the consequences of your disappearance would be severe, but hearing it spoken aloud by someone who would bear the brunt of those consequences drove home the reality of their situation.

Amalia's anger simmered beneath the surface as she continued to speak, her voice strained with emotion. "You want to know why I'm so angry?" she asked, her eyes flashing with intensity. "BecauseI fell in love with the oldest son of a rival family."

John's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his shock mirrored by the expression on the Bowery King's face. "You did?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Amalia nodded, her anger momentarily overshadowed by the weight of her confession. "We dated for years in secret," she explained, her voice trembling with emotion. "But none of the elders in his family approved of him. They saw me as nothing more than a pawn in their game of power and influence."

As Amalia recounted the demands placed upon her by the elders, a bitter laugh escaped her lips, carrying with it the weight of years of resentment and frustration. "Finally, one of the elders agreed to our union, but only if I agreed to do the impossible," she continued, her voice filled with bitterness. "They demanded that I take on a series of missions that no one could possibly accomplish."

John's eyes widened in shock, his mind struggling to comprehend the enormity of what Amalia was revealing. "But how... how did you manage it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Amalia's expression hardened, her anger and fear surfacing. "I didn't," she said, her voice trembling. "I was secretly three months pregnant and terrified. So, [Name] offered me a way out. She pretended to be me and did all of the missions herself in a single month."

John was struck silent, his shock evident. The Bowery King interjected, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That's impossible."

Amalia shuddered, closing her eyes briefly. "I don't know how she did it," she admitted, her voice heavy with emotion. "But she did. And now I have two children and one on the way." She placed a hand tenderly on her growing belly, a mixture of love and fear swirling in her eyes.

The Bowery King glanced at John, then back at Amalia. "She must have liked your husband," he remarked.

Amalia's anger flared again. "She hates him," she spat, her words dripping with venom. "But she did what she had to do to protect our family, just like I'm doing now."

John leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as the pieces began to fit together. "You were the one who commissioned me?"

Amalia nodded, a faint, weary smile tugging at her lips. Without another word, she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a marker. John recognized it immediately as one of his. Before he could ask where she had gotten it, she tossed it to him. "Give my sister-in-law my regards."

Now he understood why the family had been so open.

She stood up, motioning for them to follow her across the hallway to the last office. As they walked, she reached for a chain around her neck, pulling out a key to unlock the door. With a click, the door swung open.

Inside, [Name]'s office was a sanctuary of unexpected tranquility. The walls were painted a soft, inviting color—clearly her favorite—creating a serene and almost ethereal atmosphere. Several carefully chosen works of art adorned the walls, each piece adding depth and personal significance to the space. The large windows allowed the stormy light to filter in, casting a moody yet gentle glow over the room. Plants adorned the windowsill, their flowers in full bloom. 

Scattered toys on the floor hinted at a lingering sense of playfulness, an odd juxtaposition to the gravity of their conversation. A locked closet stood ominously in one corner, suggesting secrets guarded closely. John’s gaze was drawn to a large stereo system complete with CDs and vinyl records, a record player sitting proudly beside a plush, inviting sofa.

The desk was strategically placed in the corner, maximizing the room's openness and making it feel expansive despite its purpose. Weights lay neatly under the desk, alongside a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers—unexpected touches that spoke volumes about [Name]'s need for both comfort and stress relief. A large bookshelf, filled to the brim with an eclectic mix of titles, suggested a mind constantly in search of knowledge or escape.

John took a moment to absorb the room's details. Every element seemed meticulously curated to reflect [Name]'s duality—her strength and vulnerability, her chaos and order. It was a room that spoke of a life lived in the shadows yet yearning for more.

Amalia watched him closely, her expression a complex mix of pride and sorrow. "This is her office," she said softly, her voice heavy with unspoken memories and regrets. "It's where I saw her last."

John nodded, the seriousness of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders. The room was a testament to [Name]'s resilience, a stark reminder of what she had been forced to endure and what she sought to protect. 

The Bowery King glanced around the room, his eyes falling on the scattered toys. "What’s with the toys in her office?" he asked, his tone curious yet cautious.

Amalia sighed, her eyes softening as she glanced at the toys. "Some of them belong to my children," she explained. "Even though [Name] hates my husband, she's always been kind to my kids. They adore her."

The King raised an eyebrow. "If she hates him, why does she keep toys for your kids here?"

Amalia's lips curved into a bittersweet smile. "Because despite her feelings towards Aaron, she's still family. She loves my children as if they were her own." She walked over to a shelf, plucking a picture frame from it and handing it to John and the King.

The photo depicted [Name] in a church, taking vows, with two small children standing beside her. The image captured a rare moment of softness and grace, a gentle smile on her face as she knelt before the altar.

Amalia chuckled softly, a hint of irony in her voice. "It’s funny, really. She hates Aaron but was the one who married us. She stood as our officiant and performed the ceremony herself."

John studied the photograph, his eyes lingering on [Name]'s serene expression and the tender way she held the children. It was a side of her he hadn’t expected to see, the Bowery King leaned closer, inspecting the picture with a critical eye.

"She does look genuinely happy here," he remarked, almost to himself.

Amalia nodded, her expression distant as she recalled the day. "She hides her pain well, but it’s there, just beneath the surface. She did it all for the family, even when it tore her apart."

John’s mind raced, the weight of Amalia's words settling heavily on him. He glanced at the toys again, then back at the picture, a new layer of determination forming within him. He had to find her, not just for the mission, but for the person she truly was beneath the layers of duty and sacrifice.

John studied the photograph in his hands, a soft, reflective expression crossing his face. He looked up at Amalia, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "You feel for her, don't you?"

Amalia's gaze drifted past him, landing on the various pictures decorating the office. Each one seemed to tell a story, snapshots of moments frozen in time. The pictures were clearly taken by [Name], as they rarely featured her but captured the world through her eyes.

One photo showed Amalia's children playing in a sunlit park, their laughter almost audible through the image. Another depicted a serene beach at sunset, the colors vibrant and warm, evoking a sense of peace and longing. A third photo captured an intimate family gathering, everyone smiling, with [Name]'s presence felt more than seen, the angle suggesting she was just out of frame, watching over them all.

As Amalia's gaze traveled through the photos, she took a deep breath. "My duties as a mother come first," she said quietly, her hand gently resting on her growing belly.

"Everything I do is for my children. [Name] understands that, even if it means making sacrifices."

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of Amalia's words settling heavily in the air. John and the Bowery King exchanged a glance, both sensing the depth of emotion and history that lay beneath the surface of this family's intricate dynamics.

John's eyes wandered to more photos. There were pictures of Nick and [Name], their bond evident in the way he looked after her with a protective gaze. There were pictures of David being goofy and pranking Nick, capturing the lighter moments. Another series of photos showed Joselyn and her husband from high school until their wedding day, her husband looked to be of middle eastern decent.

Pictures of Amalia were abundant, spanning from her youth to the present day. There was a photograph of her debutante ball, and another of her wedding, noticeably absent of Aaron. Images of her pregnancies were also displayed, as well as breathtaking shots of the sky during sunrise and sunset, capturing the fleeting beauty of those moments.

A picture of the family at Christmas, dancing in their home country with your face obscured by your country’s flag, added a sense of tradition and unity. There were also photos of Nick and Michelle together, and some of Michelle at a café and in a casino bar, her expression pensive yet serene.

John’s gaze lingered on Michele at the casino bar. "Can I take this one?" he asked, his voice low but firm.

Amalia glanced at the picture and then at John, nodding slowly. "Yes, take it. It might help you find her."

John carefully pocketed the photograph, feeling the weight of the mission settle more heavily on his shoulders. He turned back to Amalia. "She’s given up a lot for the family, hasn’t she?"

Amalia nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "More than anyone knows. She’s carried burdens that weren’t hers to bear, all for the sake of duty and love."

The Bowery King looked at the picture of the children again, then at Amalia. "And yet, despite everything, she’s still kind to your children."

Amalia’s smile was bittersweet. "Because that's who she is. No matter how much she’s hurting, she always finds it in herself to care for others. That’s why I owe her everything. And that’s why we have to find her."

John’s resolve hardened. The mission was no longer just about finding a missing person; it was about bringing back someone who had given so much of herself for the sake of others. And he knew, deep down, that he wouldn't rest until she was safe.

John's eyes drifted to the other shelves in Amalia's office, noticing a collection of academic accolades. Certificates and plaques attested to [Name]'s intelligence and dedication, showcasing her achievements in various fields. He took a moment to absorb the extent of her talents, feeling a pang of admiration mixed with sorrow for what she had become.

The Bowery King broke the silence with a pointed question. "If the family wants to marry her off, why bother finding her?"

Amalia's gaze sharpened, her expression fierce. "Have you ever heard the expression, 'The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth'?"

She paused, looking around the room as if searching for the right words. Slowly, she walked to the bookshelf. "We were always taught to honor those that came before us, but no one remembers the saying, 'Do not provoke your children to anger.'" Her fingers traced the spines of the books before she pulled out a green one. As she did, a section of the wall shifted, revealing a hidden room.

"Don’t get me wrong," Amalia continued. "She really is a sweetheart when you get to know her. But she changed after I got married. She always had a bubble around her and she's picky about who gets inside. She never gives out markers because she hates the idea of owing anyone anything."

The hidden room was a stark contrast to the main office, its coldness sharply contrasting with the warmth just outside the concealed door. John scrutinized the space, feeling as if he had stepped through a portal into another world. Though small, the office was meticulously organized.

A wall on his left was covered in photos and leads of your targets, with notes scribbled next to each photo detailing information about them, their families, and whether they had children. Strings connected some of the photos, forming a complex web of connections and motives.

Your monitor and desk were tucked away in the corner just before he walked in. The desk was devoid of personal touches, looking meticulously clean and functional, with only essential items—pens, a notepad, a closed laptop—neatly arranged. John ran a hand over the smooth surface, noting the absence of fingerprints and the almost clinical precision.

Across from the wall of target photos was a glass-fronted weapons case, showcasing a variety of deadly instruments. Swords, daggers, and firearms were displayed in an orderly fashion, each item meticulously maintained. The glass glinted under the dim lighting, revealing the sheen of polished metal.

However, John noticed that a few weapons were missing, leaving empty slots that hinted at recent use. He bent down slightly, examining the labels below each empty slot, trying to deduce what had been taken. 

The Bowery King nodded, his gaze shifting back to the empty slots in the weapons case. "Looks like someone's been busy.”.

As he continued to take in the room, John noticed a faint scent of gun oil and leather, a reminder of the deadly purpose behind the immaculate setup. He straightened up and turned his attention back to the wall of photos, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the detailed notes and connections. 

Behind him, the Bowery King entered the hidden office, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. He paused just inside the doorway, taking in the scene with a discerning eye.

"Quite the setup you've got here," he remarked, his voice low and appreciative. He walked over to the weapons case, his fingers tracing the edge of the glass. Amalia let out a hum of acknowledgement having not moved from her place between both worlds. 

"Does she have a boyfriend? Any friends outside the family?" John inquired, his voice slicing through the tense silence as he turned to face Amalia.

Amalia, standing in the door frame, shook her head slowly, her fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the polished wood. "She never dates. As for friends, she keeps quiet about them. She doesn't delve deeply into relationships, fearing they might die or she might have to eliminate them."

John's gaze continued to roam the room, finally landing on an unexpected sight: a photograph of himself, discreetly tucked into a corner of the wall behind a stack of books. His brows knitted in surprise, but he chose to remain silent about it. Meanwhile, the Bowery King, who had been pacing near the weapons case, stopped and leaned in to scrutinize its contents again. 

"Why aren't these weapons readily accessible?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and confusion.

Amalia sighed, her gaze softening slightly as she looked at the King. "Because [Name] doesn't want my kids stumbling upon any of this stuff and easily accessing it out of curiosity. We actually appreciate the precaution," she replied, standing up and walking over to join the King. She carefully unlocked the case with the same key and retrieved a small, intricately designed dagger, holding it up for him to inspect.

John, still taking in the details of the room, pressed on with his questions. "What's her daily routine like?" he asked, moving to stand over his own photo, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.

Amalia returned on her heel, the dagger still in her hand, and settled back against the wall. "[Name] is primarily focused on school when she's home. She rarely makes calls or texts anyone. She attends family meetings and diligently performs her duties. The only time she engages socially is during or after her missions. She doesn't typically stay out for long," she explained, her voice tinged with melancholy as she placed the dagger on your desk, its blade catching the light.

The Bowery King, still appraising the room, turned his attention back to Amalia. "Do you trust her, Amalia?" he asked, his voice low and probing as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

She paused, her eyes reflecting a turbulent mix of emotions. "I don't know anymore," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the dagger in her hand, the weight of her uncertainty hanging heavy in the air. She gently placed the dagger back before locking the case again. She glared at the glass before turning to face John. 

"The arranged marriage was the straw that broke her back," Amalia sighed, her frustration palpable. "Joselyn and I are married so she’s the only girl left.”

John scanned the room, disturbed by the shift in atmosphere. "I know what she's like out there," Amalia continued. "She's a completely different being. So cold, quick, and effective. If someone couldn't handle a job, she dismissed them and did it herself. No one escapes her. She's made a career out of being unknown."

John frowned, puzzled. "Is that why I have never heard of 'The Fawn' before?"

Amalia's eyes darkened. "She only works for the highest of the elite. You can't just request her services. There are rules for that. Dear God, she hates rules."

John’s gaze returned to the hidden room, a mix of awe and sorrow washing over him. The woman they sought was a paradox—capable of immense kindness yet driven to cold efficiency by circumstances beyond her control. As he studied the evidence of your dual life, he realized the depth of the challenge before them. Finding you would be hard enough; convincing you to come back might be impossible.

Amalia, noticing his troubled expression, sighed. "She always looked like she was a deer caught in headlights, vulnerable yet ready to flee or fight. That's why they called her 'The Fawn.' It's ironic, really. So delicate yet deadly. They underestimated her, thinking they could control her. But she’s smarter and stronger than any of them ever gave her credit for."

Without warning, Amalia grabbed John by the neck and slammed him against the door, her small frame vibrating with rage. The Bowery King instinctively backed up, his eyes wide, but John, sensing her condition, didn't reach for his gun.

"Don't you fucking dare underestimate her," Amalia hissed, her eyes blazing. "I don't care how innocent she looks. If looks could kill, you'd be dead twelve times over before you even knew what happened, Baba Yaga." She spat out his nickname with palpable disgust.

John remained still, the intensity of her anger washing over him. "She's strong, she's smart, and she's anything she wants to be. If you fuck up, she'll get you. I know her fight better than anyone else. I've seen what she can do. You cannot fail at this."

Her grip on his neck tightened momentarily before she released him, stepping back to compose herself. John's hand instinctively moved to his throat, feeling the lingering pressure of her grasp. He could see the raw emotion in her eyes, the desperate need for him to understand.

The Bowery King watched in silence, the gravity of the situation sinking in. John straightened, meeting Amalia's gaze with renewed determination. He knew she was right. Failure was not an option. He had to find you and bring you back, not just for the family.

But how could he not feel for the woman who had already sacrificed so much to protect those she loved?

Amalia's breathing slowed, and she placed a protective hand on her belly. "You can’t fail at this, John. Promise me."

John nodded, his voice steady. "I promise."

With a final glance around the room, Amalia led them back out into the office. The storm outside seemed to mirror the turmoil within the mansion. 

Amalia’s grip loosened, and she let go of John gently, straightening his tie and collar with a shaky hand. “She hated this job because she felt like a murderer. I understand why she wants to be a criminal defense attorney. But if her marriage keeps our family safe…” She looked into his eyes, her own filled with tears. “If it means my children never have to grow up in this life, so be it.”

Tears began to spill down her cheeks as she stepped back, turning away quickly to hide her emotions. The weight of her words hung heavily in the room. Overwhelmed, she excused herself, rushing to the office trashcan and spitting up. The Bowery King, his face a mix of concern and respect, offered her some tissues, which she took gingerly to wipe her mouth.

John's mind raced, running through the information he'd gathered from each family member. There were inconsistencies and gaps, pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. He replayed the details: Nick’s exclusion of Michele and his focus on the marriage. David’s guilty expression and lack of knowledge about your whereabouts despite having trackers on you. Joselyn’s warm yet firm demeanor, her openness to share. The anger and protectiveness in Amalia’s voice, the deep-rooted family loyalties, and the sacrifices made.

Amalia, now composed but visibly drained, leaned against the desk. “She’s not just a tool, John. She’s my sister. We grew up together, suffered together. She deserves more than this. But I have a family of my own now.”

John nodded, his thoughts aligning. He needed to understand why [Name] had been forced into this role, why the family insisted on her marriage, and what it all meant for her future. He couldn’t afford to overlook any detail, any potential lead. The stakes were too high, not just for [Name], but for the entire family.

The Bowery King broke the silence, his voice gentle yet firm. “John, we need to get started. We can’t miss anything. Every detail matters.”

John agreed, his resolve strengthening. He turned to Amalia. “We’ll find her. And we’ll make sure she’s safe.”

Amalia nodded, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you, John. Please… bring her home.”

With a final, solemn nod, John and the Bowery King left the office, as they were escorted out of the estate by the butler, Nick emerged from the shadows, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. John and the Bowery King exchanged nods with him, acknowledging the unspoken agreement between them. Nick watched them until they disappeared from view, his mind undoubtedly swirling.

Back in the car, the atmosphere was heavy with the weight of their conversation. The engine hummed softly as John navigated the winding roads, the only sound the occasional patter of rain against the windshield. After a few minutes of silent driving, John broke the silence.

“Alright,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Let’s go over everything.”

As John drove away from the estate, his mind buzzed with thoughts and suspicions. The Bowery King sat beside him, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as he recounted their discussions with each family member. They dissected every statement, every subtle nuance, searching for inconsistencies and hidden truths, trying to piece together the puzzle of your disappearance.

“I don’t trust Nick,” John said, his brow furrowing in thought. “He’s hiding something, I can feel it.”

The Bowery King chuckled, shaking his head. “You never trust anyone.”

John nodded in agreement, his gaze distant as he replayed their conversations in his mind. “And what about David? He seemed sincere, but there’s something he’s not telling us.”

As they delved deeper into their analysis, John and the Bowery King couldn’t shake the lingering questions that gnawed at them. The road stretched out before them, winding through the darkness as their conversation veered into speculation.

“What’s with the contrast between Joselyn’s husband and Amalia’s?” John mused, his voice tinged with skepticism. “Joselyn’s husband seems to have passed her test, but Amalia’s… I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

"She also didn't mention Michelle and Nick's marriage during the interview."

The Bowery King nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed in thought. “And what about Amalia? She seems genuinely sad about everything happening. But she’ll let her ‘sister’ take the fall before she does. It’s… unsettling.”

Their conversation turned to the possibility of David’s involvement in your disappearance. “Do you think David helped her escape?” John asked, his tone grave.

“Something about his demeanor… it’s off.”

The Bowery King considered this, his mind racing with possibilities. “And Michelle… is she really hiding out, or is there more to her story?” he pondered aloud. “She’s been missing for too long, and Nick’s desperation… it’s barely palpable.”

John furrowed his brow in thought, a realization dawning on him. “I didn’t know Sofia had a brother…” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he mulled over this new information.

The Bowery King chuckled lightly, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Maybe they aren’t close,” he quipped, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Despite the levity of the moment, John couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled over him. There were still too many unanswered questions, too many pieces of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. But he was determined to uncover the truth, no matter where it led.

How hard would it be for the Big Bad Wolf to find a little Fawn?

______________________________________________________________

This was long as shit, also posted on my ao3. If you see any mistakes just let me know. I don't have an editor yet.

Part 2 is here.

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Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[arece]

So………lolz you already expected this BUT whats readers background? How did she meet Aurelio? Layer on that angst

Seven

♤ Summary: How reader came to be. The masterlist

♤ Warnings: Implied domestic and child abuse, but no explicit details.

♤ a/n: I may be slow but I am working through these requests. I kinda like how this one turned out, back on my angst shit. (1.3k)

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

If I ever were to lose you

I’d lose-

No. 

Try- try and sometimes…

The words were slowly escaping you.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

You were sprinting as fast as your small legs allowed you to, giggling as you stared straight ahead you, could almost imagine you were flying. Slowly you rose your arms from your sides, shrieking in glee as you nearly felt yourself begin to float. 

“My bumbling little bee!” You were scooped up into the arms of a woman, her face forever blurred in a way you’d never be able to recall, but the safety she radiated would forever be imprinted in your mind. 

She let you go, hand caressing over your head. Kneeling down to your height she held you close by your arms, a nervous smile fluttering from her lips, “and how much did you collect today?” 

You brightened, digging into your little pockets and pulling out three wallets. You watched as she took them, carefully scanning through the contents of each. “Did I do good?” So eager for her praise.

“The best. Are you sure you’re not an actual pirate?” She playfully scanned you over. You giggled, shaking your head as if just the thought was so silly, “no, I was just playing!”

She scooped you back up, heading in the direction of a daunting house that suddenly turned your colourful little world into melancholy shades of gray. “Well, you had me fooled, busy bee.”

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

You sat in your room, fiddling around with your toy sword as the sun began to set. A rumbling could be heard in the distance, you stood from your spot on the floor and looked out the window. Outside was the car that held the monster, the one that always played hide and seek with you.

The woman came rushing into your room, she looked more frazzled than earlier, hair out of place and her eyes containing distress. “Come on now, bee. Time for hide and seek.” You grabbed her hand as she led you over to the slightly rotted closet, hidden by an oddly placed bookshelf.

She sat you inside, trying to get you comfortable with the mountain of blankets, pillows, books, and a flashlight you collected from your multiple games. “He’s not very good, I hide in the same place every time and he never finds me.”

The woman stopped her frantic movements, looking at you for a moment before brushing her thumb over your cheek, “and he never will.” Distantly you heard the door open with a heavy thud. She swiftly kisses your forehead before shutting you in the closet.

She claims that she’s giving you a head start. She’s really good at it because you stay here all night until he gives up in the morning.

You click on the flashlight, weary of the dark. Shattering echoes throughout the walls followed by a loud roar. You remember the times you’ve met the monster; he’d show up during the day before your game.

He didn’t like you, you made too many mistakes. You broke too many things, said the wrong things, were too loud. This is why you had to hide, you couldn’t bother the monster, couldn’t let him find you.

You hid your head under the pillows to drown out the screams, eventually able to fall asleep in your little haven.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

Out in the fields your head laid on the woman's lap. She was lost in thought while your twirled bright green blades of grass between your fingers. You plucked two, tying the ends together as you looked up at her distorted face.

“I think our house is haunted.” She blinked twice, switching to lean back on a single hand as she brought the other to poke at the tip of your nose before resting against your cheek. 

You pulled the ends too roughly, snapping it apart. The two strands were slowly carried into separate directions by the wind. “Why do you think that?”

“At night there’s lots of noises. The monster’s extra angry, that’s probably why.” You casually turned back to playing with the grass, missing the bitter sadness that tainted her expression.

She pulled you up from her lap, forcing you to face her. “You can’t tell anyone about our haunted house.” Her lips pressed together a new wave of determination settling into her disposition.

“Why?” you had naively tilted your head to the side. For the first time ever the comfort and safety you felt with her was cut, the same fear you were used to facing with the monster blossomed. 

Her expression grew wild as she slightly shook you by the shoulders, “you just can’t, cross your heart that you won’t.” You tried to move back but the grip she held onto you with wouldn’t release you.

“Okay,” you cried out, “I won’t tell anyone, cross my heart!” Suddenly she let you go and you scooted back, slightly curling in on yourself. Your eyes grew glassy and your bottom lip began to quiver.

She saw the error in her panic and immediately pulled you into a hug, brushing a hand over your head to hold you closer. She whispered profuse apologies, shushing your sniffles as you wiped at your runny nose.

“I’m sorry. I love you, my bumbling bee.” She poked at your sides, receiving a high pitched screech that melted into delighted giggles.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

For weeks you haven’t had to play your game of hide and seek. She says that the monster left and he wouldn’t be back. The house felt lighter. You enjoyed getting to sleep in your bed, her tucking you in with the melodic whispers of her lullaby. You slept that night comfortably, a doll wrapped tight in your grasp, safe in your brighter home. 

The familiar roar woke you up, immediately you buried yourself back under your blankets before remembering you weren’t in your hiding spot - he’d find you. You swiftly crawled out of bed, prepared to make a run for it before the woman bursted in, closing the door behind her and moving furniture to cover it.

“I have to go to the closet!” You yanked at her leg to get her attention. She carefully pulled you off of her before moving to a bag, placing some of your things into it. “No more hide and seek, now we only play pirates.”

She brought over a sweater, wrapping you into it tightly before securing the bag over your shoulders and handing you your doll. “What do you mean?” You asked, finally noticing her puffy eyes and angry red cuts scattered along her face.

“Today you leave the house and you never come back. You run and you be a pirate to survive - a real pirate.” Her breaths were unsteady and you could see her hands begin to shake. You grab onto the hand as she moves over to the room's window.

“What about you?” She opens the window and a gush of cold air wafts around you. “The monster’s very strong, he’ll always find us so I have to stay. You have to go, I’ve never been really good at hide and seek.”

She lifts you over the window, your feet plopping onto the ground as she helps you jump over. She kisses your forehead as she bites off a whimper, “you do what you have to and survive. Give them all hell.”

The door starts to bend underneath the weight of the monster’s banging, she looks over her shoulder before focusing back on you with a new sense of urgency. “I love you, little bee. Now go and don’t look back.”

You begin to run off, once again gliding. Behind you she mutters, “someone save my baby.” A silent prayer before accepting her fate and facing the monster behind the door.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

It’s been a few years since you’ve been playing pirate, successfully surviving off of your skill for stealing. The one time you messed up would soon turn into a blessing in disguise.

“You're pretty crafty, street rat.”

You can’t remember her face, but you remember her comfort and how she saved you. You’d carry that love she held for you forever.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

If I ever were to lose you,

I’d surely lose myself.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

Taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight  @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01 @commanderfreethatdust @wisepizzatart

[cuddleyhoney]

Hiiiiii Bubs I saw your new post (gonna read it in a moment) but is okay if I request something?

If so may you please do

Age gap fem reader x John wick where they go to Aurelio’s shop and she makes joke talking about John too old (bc he bends down to get something and gets sore) but her and Aurelio find it funny (the jokes reader makes) and John gets annoyed and makes her see what an old man can do 😉

this idea is so cute i will probably make this a two part series because I'm just too tired rn but this part is angsty I guess LMAO

john wick x reader age gap pt.1

On a cool autumn day, you were invited to hang out with your loving boyfriend and his work associates to "listen" to what the guys were talking about with their future cars and stocks etc..

It was quite a boring experience as you listened to the guys talk. You remained scrolling on your phone and listening lightly to what they were saying. Making glances at your beautiful lover John helped ease the awkwardness.

John stood up and stretched whilst making conversation with Aureilo, his phone fell out of his pocket onto the hard tile floor. Your reflexes tried to grab his phone for him but John was able to pick it up. He screeched a little sound of pain. He looked at both you and Aureilo in slight embarrassment. I mean he was Babayaga right? How could he get hurt from the smallest movement?

John makes a small innocent smile back at you to assure you he's fine but you make a silly remark saying "my precious little John is growing up so quickly!" (✿◠‿◠) Aurielo chuckled and so did John

The intimate gathering drew to a close, and John navigated the winding streets in silence, his fingers gripping the steering wheel. Though you had enjoyed the company of friends, an undeniable unease had crept into the car, fostering an unspoken tension.

As the engine hummed and the city lights passed by, John's thoughts became a tempest in his mind. His once-confident demeanor wavered, replaced by a gnawing self-doubt. The question weighed heavily on his conscience: "Am I too old for her?" It was a thought he couldn't shake, a shadow creeping into the corners of his heart.

The smile that had illuminated his face throughout the evening seemed a distant memory now. Inwardly, he cherished every moment spent with you, relishing the laughter, the connection, and the warmth that you brought into his life. But that fleeting interaction, the small jests, and the good-natured ribbing about age had begun to unravel his self-assured facade.

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 167

warnings: a little long and nsfw hmh masterlist

Today has been frustrating to say the least. John has been talking a lot more about Helen lately, and usually it doesn’t bother you but lately it has been. Her birthday is coming up soon, so you’re sure it’s just that which is causing him to talk about her so much. You don’t mind hearing stories about her since, at the end of the day, John is married to you and the two of you have a child together, but there’s only so many Helen stories you can hear before you start to feel a little jealous in a way.

John had told you about three different stories in the past two days, and you tried to gently tell him that you’re a little sick of the stories, but Ronan threw up everywhere and ruined the moment. Babies, right? You ended up getting so frustrated with John’s stories that you’ve been pretty much ignoring him all day. If you do talk to him, you’re usually pretty short with him, and he’s obviously picked up on it that something is wrong with you since he’s keeping his distance.

Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

Ronan is at your parents’ house for the night, so you’re hoping that you can get a little dressed up and try to take John’s mind off of Helen and put his focus back onto you. You dropped Ronan off, then you went to the mall and grabbed a few new pieces of lingerie in hopes that John will finally give you a little more attention.

Again you’re aware that John is married to you and that Helen isn’t…coming back to steal him, but it sucks that his mind has been so preoccupied with Helen lately. Your marriage is starting to suffer a little bit, and now you’re even getting into little spats over nothing. You literally yelled at him over something that usually wouldn’t annoy you at all.

Inhaling deeply, you get out of the car and head inside to hear John talking on the phone. You left your bag in the car since you knew John would be around the house, so you just walk into the kitchen and see him at the kitchen table.

John looks over his shoulder at you and waves, then he turns back around, “Yeah, man, sounds good. Alright, bye.”

You set your purse on the table and look at John as he gets up, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Aurelio asked if I wanted to go play some pool tonight, so I said yes.” he says as he opens the fridge to get something to eat.

“Oh,” you slouch a little, “Okay.”

John looks at you and raises his eyebrows, “Is that okay, or…”

“You don’t need my permission.” you say as you look at him, then you shrug, “Have fun then.”

“Well, what are you going to do tonight?”

You inhale as you shrug, “Uh, I don’t know. There’s a lot that I can do. I need to go through Ro’s closet and pack away her clothes that don’t fit. I need to do some laundry. I mean, I’d hang out with Tess, but they’re up at the lake house with Jimmy’s family for the week.”

John nods, “Yeah, I thought about that.”

“I’ll find something. There’s plenty I can do around the house. I do have a new book that I’ve wanted to read, so…” you say, putting a fake smile on your face.

Nodding his head, John looks down at his bottle of water, “Uh, do you think you’ll manage the dogs tonight? I might not be back in time to take them for a walk. Sadie can be a handful.”

“Yeah, of course. I was thinking about taking them to the Oyster Bay dog park.” you say as you shrug, and John nods his head. “I don’t have anything else planned, so…”

“I better go shower. Aurelio is going to pick me up. He’s got a new car he wants to show me.” John says, and you nod as you look up him.

John leans down and kisses your cheek before he leaves, and you slouch a little since you’re going to be spending the night alone. There are several things that you need to get done around the house, but they won’t take more than an hour. Maybe you can surprise John when he gets home though.

“Well, I might as well get started on laundry.” you say to yourself, then you head upstairs to your bedroom as John shuffles though his drawers. You take the laundry basket and set it aside before you head into the bathroom to grab any dirty towels and clothes, then you come back out to find John looking at you.

“So, are you just going to continue to pretend you’re not mad at me?” John asks, and you look at him. He gestures to you and shakes his head, “I know you’re mad at me.”

You wave it off, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s something. You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder all day.” he says, and you shrug as you walk over to the laundry basket. “Tell me now before I leave.”

You furrow your brow as you look at him, “You--”

“Not leave,” he says, shaking his head, “But I mean before I leave in a bit.”

“Nah, it’s all good.” you say, and John huffs as you look at him, “God, fine. I just thought we’d hang out tonight. Since you know, it’s been a few nights since we’ve been alone, but I get it. You have friends too.”

John shrugs, “I haven’t hung out with Aurelio in a while. Thought it’d be fun.”

“Hey,” you reach out for his hand and smile, “It’s all good.”

Obviously it hurts your feelings that John doesn’t realize that you’re hurt that he’s been talking about Helen so much and not really spending time with you, but you’ll let it go for now. You’d hate to upset him before he goes out for some fun. You had an ex who did that to you all the time and it’s not fair--you refuse to do the same to John.

Squeezing his arm a little, you smile at him, then you grab the laundry basket and head down to do the laundry, but John calls out for you.

“I know you’re mad at me.” he says, and you shrug. “Can we talk about it later?”

“Of course.” you nod, then you head downstairs.

__

Bleu and Sadie had so much fun at the dog park and they tired themselves out, so you dropped them off at home before you decided to take a long drive. You got yourself a greasy cheeseburger, some fries and a chocolate shake, then you drove around aimlessly for about two hours just listening to music. You have to admit that it was nice to have an evening to just yourself. You needed it more than you even realized, and you’re feeling a little bit better than you did earlier. That is until you look down at your phone to see that you don’t have any texts from John.

John’s been gone for about five hours now, and usually he’ll just text you a simple little message, even just a heart emoji to let you know that he’s thinking about you. Today you’ve gotten nothing. Either he’s ignoring you now or he’s having a lot of fun.

You pull into the driveway and open the garage to put your car in, then you sigh as you get out of the car. You’re greeted by Bleu and Sadie as you walk inside, and you lean down to pet them before you let them into the backyard for a bit.

Whenever your mom has Ronan, you always call her before she goes down for the night, so you sit down on the couch and pull your phone out, pressing it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you sigh softly, “How is Ro?”

Your mom laughs, “She’s good, like she always is. She’s laying in Dan’s arms right now getting her bottle before she goes down. She’s been an angel today! We went for a nice walk this afternoon and played with some bubbles, then she had some steamed chicken for lunch.”

“Oh, she’s a big fan of chicken.”

“She gets it from her mom,” your mom says, and you smile a little. “Ro, say goodnight to your momma and daddy.”

The smile fades from your face when you realize your mom thinks John is with you. You hear Ronan babbling on the other end of the phone, and you smile to yourself.

“Goodnight, baby!” you say to her even though she probably can’t hear you, then you sigh as you sit back on the couch.

“No goodnight from dad?”

You inhale deeply and sigh, “Uh, no, he’s out with Aurelio tonight. They went to play pool or something.”

“I bet that’s been nice to just have a day to yourself.”

“Yeah, it’s been alright.” you shrug, then you get up and head to your bedroom. “I’m probably gonna crash early since Ro is with you and John is out.”

Your mom laughs, “Nothing wrong with that, honey. Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Give Ro a kiss for me and her dad. Love you.” you say, then you sit down on the bed and look down at your phone as you hang up with your mom. You look over at the drawer where you have the lingerie tucked in, then you get up and grab it before you head to the bathroom.

__

Fixing the lace on the garter belt, you look at yourself in the mirror and smile, then you poke your head out to the bedroom when you hear the front door open. You quickly fluff your hair up and fix your makeup a little, then you peek around the corner as John walks in and sits down on the bed.

“Hey,” you say, and he barely glances over his shoulder, “How was your night?”

“Pretty good. We played a couple rounds of pool, a few of darts, and I unfortunately had too many drinks since I feel a little tipsy.” he says, keeping his back to you as he pulls his shirt off and kicks his shoes off. “It was a good thing I didn’t drive.”

You lean against the wall seductively since you’re expecting John to turn around and see you, but he just lays back to pull his pants off. He groans as he sits back up and tosses his pants carelessly onto the floor, and you slouch a little.

Walking over to the bed, you crawl onto it and kiss John’s back up to his neck in hopes that it’ll get him in the mood. He looks over his shoulder at you and smiles softly as you move to kiss his neck, then he leans back a little to look at what you’re wearing. You move closer to him as you kiss his face and move your hand to his crotch, but he pulls your hand off of him.

“We need to talk.”

“We don’t need to talk it out right now,” you whisper as you move closer to him, “We can just…work our way through it first.”

John gently takes your hands and pulls them off his chest, “Not tonight, baby.”

You hold his gaze for a moment as you grow sad and embarrassed, tears filling your eyes, then you pull on your robe that you left on the bed. You kick off your heels and pull your robe shut as your chin wobbles, and you grab your pajamas from your drawer before you grab your pillow and phone.

“I’m sleeping downstairs.”

John sighs, “You don’t have to sleep downstairs. It’s fine, peach.”

“No,” you look down to avoid his gaze since you’re so damn embarrassed, “I want to sleep alone tonight.”

Holding tight to your pillow, you head down to the guest bedroom, then you close the door and lock it since you know John will probably try to come talk it out at some point, and you’re so embarrassed that you don’t even want to see him right now.

You pull off the lingerie like it’s infected and leave it on the en suite bathroom floor, then you pull on your pajama shorts and shirt before you crawl into the bed and pull the blankets over your head as you cry.

__

It’s Thursday, which means John works the morning until about noon, then the two of you would usually go and get Ronan. You’re planning on getting her and dropping her off with John for the rest of the day. You’ve successfully avoided John before he left for work--not that it was really that hard. You just don’t want to even see him right now, and apparently he’s fine with it since he hasn’t tried to talk to you.

Looking into your mirror, you see that your eyes are a little swollen and bloodshot from crying so much last night, but you put on a brave face and head in to get Ronan. You open the door and smile when you hear Ronan squealing and babbling, and you wave at her as you walk into the living room.

“Hi, bug!” you smile, leaning down to get her, and as soon as she’s in your arms, you begin to cry softly. You sniffle as you lean back to look at her, and you smile when she tugs your hair, “I missed you!”

“She’s been so good,” your mom says, then she looks over to the door in confusion, “Jonathan isn’t with you?”

You hold her gaze as you shake your head and start to cry, and she immediately reaches out and pulls you to the couch. She holds you in her arms as you cry, calming you down and telling you that everything is okay, and you cling to Ronan a little tighter.

“I don’t know what’s going on. I know this is just normal marriage stuff, but I never thought John and I would be affected by it.” you whisper as you sit up, “We just haven’t been ourselves lately.”

Your mom nods, “Maybe you two need some time alone to talk things through.”

“I really need Tess right now,” you say, and your mom nods. “It’s just…a little awkward talking about sex with you, mom.”

Your mom laughs softly, “Okay, I’m sure.”

“Is it okay if I just leave Ronan with you for the rest of the day? I can get her tonight before dinner.”

“Of course!” your mom smiles as she rubs your back, “If John shows up…”

You nod, “He can take her. I’m sure he’ll be confused to not see her when he gets home or whatever. I don’t really know what he’s thinking lately.”

“That’s new.”

“It is!” you laugh as you set Ronan back down on the floor so she can play with her toys, “In all honesty, I just don’t really want to see him right now. Not while my emotions are so intense. I just…”

Your mom wraps her arm around you and rubs your back as you cry, “It’s okay.”

You sigh as you look over at her, “He’s been talking about Helen a lot more lately. It just hurts my feelings. Usually I don’t care, but him talking about her all the time and then not really giving the usual amount of affection is just weird. I just feel like there’s a disconnect and I’m not sure if it was intentional.”

“I can promise that it’s no intentional, honey.” she smiles as you look at her, and you inhale deeply when you realize John has talked to her. “I promise you. Just go home and talk to him.”

Nodding your head, you look down at your wedding ring as you sniffle, then you inhale deeply and exhale as you get up to hug and kiss Ronan, “I love you, bug. I’ll be back to get you later.”

You wave at your mom as you walk over to grab your purse, and she gives you two thumbs up as you laugh.

__

Sitting at the table as you flip through a magazine, you hear the door open and the dogs both get up to greet John. You clear your throat a little as you sit at the table and wait for John to find you, but there’s a part of you that feels like maybe he doesn’t care that you’re even home.

“Hey,” John walks in the kitchen and furrows his brow a little, “Where’s the bug?”

“Uh, at my mom’s still. I’m gonna get her later.”

John looks at you for a moment, then he nods his head and looks down, “Uh, I have a book I need to get done by tomorrow, so I just really need to focus on that. It’s just that there’s a deadline and I haven’t been focused so much on it lately, so…”

“Okay.” you bite your cheek as you look at him, then you slouch when he leaves the room.

You’ll just have to talk to him later.

__

Since John was still downstairs working on his book, you decided to just sleep in the guest bedroom again. You haven’t talked to him at all, and you even called to ask if Ronan could stay the night again. Your mom took it as a good sign, though it really wasn’t.

You sit up in bed as your stomach growls and look over to see it’s nearly 2 in the morning. You stretch a little, then you get up and quietly open the door to find John laying back against the wall as he sleeps. You smile to yourself as you look at him, then you kneel down and gently brush your thumb over his cheek.

“John,” you whisper to him, then you smile when he opens his eyes, “Go up to bed. Go to bed. You can’t be comfortable here.”

“You locked the door.” he says softly as you nod, then he sits up a little, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You look down as you tear up, “I know. Me neither.”

John reaches over to touch your cheek, “That doesn’t mean what I think it means, does it?”

“Well, what did you mean?”

“I miss my wife.” he whispers, then he rubs his thumb over your cheek and down to your bottom lip, “I miss my best friend.”

Tears roll down your cheeks as you sit down on the floor, then you look at him and nod, “I miss mine too.”

“I promise that we can talk through everything in the morning, but for now, can I just hold my wife?” John asks, and you nod your head. He gets up and reaches for your hands, then he helps you stand up.

Holding hands with John, you head up to your bedroom with him and smile to yourself, feeling your hand in his for the first time in what seems like weeks. You crawl into bed and lay down on your side only to realize you left your pillow down in the guest bedroom. John lays down on the bed and moves his pillow over to share with you, then he smiles when you get under the blankets with him.

John gently rubs his thumb over your cheek as you look at him, “I love you.”

“Do you?” you ask as you tear up again.

“I do.” he nods, then he pulls you closer until you’re inches from his face, “I will never stop loving you. It’s a promise.”

You nod your head as you look at him, “We’ll talk in the morning?”

“Of course.” he whispers, then he leans forward to kiss you. He pulls you closer as he lays on his back, then he holds you in his arms, “I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too.”

__

You feel John pressing kisses to your face and neck as you lay in bed, and you slowly open your eyes and smile when you see him next to you. You inhale deeply and roll onto your side, and you’re a little taken aback when he leans over and kisses you. He slips his tongue into your mouth as he crawls on top of you, and you laugh when he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he smiles, then he sits up to look at you, “Missed that laugh.”

“We still need to talk, so don’t start getting all lovey-dovey. I’m not sure you’re going to love me after this conversation.” you say as you tuck his hair away from his face.

John gives you a blank stare, then he shakes his head, “You could tell me that you hate my guts and wished I was dead, and I’d still love you.”

“You know I’d never say that though, and I definitely don’t hate you or wish you were dead.”

“Well, I would hope not.” he says, and you both start to laugh.

Taking a deep breath, you sit up in bed and cross your legs before you look down at your hands and spin your wedding ring. John sits up next to you and wraps his right arm around your waist, then he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“I hurt yours the other night…” John whispers to you, and you look over at him, your cheeks growing warm and red when you remember how embarrassed you were, “You could kill me and I’d think it was justified because I hurt you.”

You bite your cheek as you look at him, then you look down and frown, “I know that Helen’s birthday is coming up, and you know that I usually don’t mind hearing stories about her, but lately it’s just been one story after another. You haven’t been giving me the same amount of affection as usual, and I just thought…maybe you weren’t all in with me anymore. Like the novelty of me wore off or something. Like…like you were just over me and you were ready to move on to the next.”

John moves your hair away from your face and nods when you look at him, giving you more time to get out everything that you need to say.

“Lately it has been painfully obvious who you wish was still here with you.” you whisper as John’s eyes grow sad. “You swapped out kissing me for telling me stories about the time you and Helen went to Fiji. You stopped holding my hand and replaced it when the story about the time you and Helen took a roadtrip. You stopped having sex with me, showing me affection, giving me even just an ounce of your love, and I noticed that I’m not the main focus anymore. I’ve completely been replaced by a ghost from your past. And…unfortunately, between you and me, if I can’t be your main focus anymore, then…”

“Stop!” John shakes his head as he looks away, then he looks back at you with tears in his eyes, “So, you want a divorce?”

“So, you’re admitting that I’m not your main focus anymore? Your dead wife is?” you get off the bed and laugh as you grab out something to wear, “It’s funny how you promised me that I was always going to be your main focus. You always reassured me that it was me who you cared about most. And yeah, if you can’t see what you have in front of you and you’re going to continue to live in the past, then yes, I want a divorce! I’m not going to feel inferior in my relationship again. I did it before and I refuse to do it again. I deserve to be put first. I deserve to be someone’s main focus.”

John gently touches your arm and shakes his head, “She’s not my main focus--you are! You’re my main focus. You and Ronan are everything to me, you know this! I know you know this!”

“Then why can’t you stop talking about Helen?”

“Because I want her to see how happy I am and I’m sad that she’s missing out on it.” he says, and you shake your head as you walk away. “Baby, I promise that you’re the only one I want. I need you. I need you more than I’ve never needed someone before. I can’t function without you!”

You look over at him and shrug, “I don’t believe you anymore.”

“What can I do to make you believe me?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe stop talking about your dead wife all the time.” you say, and John immediately nods his head. You groan as you close your eyes, “I’m hearing the way I’m talking, and I hate it. I hate that I’ve gotten to this point--being jealous over her, but I can’t keep pushing aside my feelings just to protect you. I used to push aside my feelings for other people and I refuse to do that now.”

“And I don’t want you to. I want you to tell me how you’re feeling.” John says as he walks over to you, reaching out for your hands. “I want you to be honest with me. We’ve always been honest with each other about things, we’ve always talked things through. It’s always worked for us. Why change that now? Come here. Please.”

You walk with John back over to the bed, and you sigh loudly as you sit down with him, “I’m scared that we can’t come back from this.”

“Yes, we can.” John whispers, rubbing his thumb over your cheek, “You found guns in the basement and we came back from that. We got into a huge fight about that pregnancy test, and we came back from that. We can come back from this. We can come back from anything.”

Wiping away the tears on your face, you look down as you cry harder, “I’m scared you don’t love me as much anymore, like all the love you had for me in the beginning has dried up and you don’t have any more.”

“Listen to me,” John tilts your chin up and smiles at you, “It’s because I love you so damn much that I’ve been talking about Helen. I know it doesn’t sound like it makes sense, but just hear me out.”

You laugh tearfully, “You better make it make sense, Wick.”

John takes a deep breath and exhales as he holds your hand, “I think there’s still this part of me that feels a little guilty. I’m married to this amazing, beautiful, smart, kind, everything-under-the-sun-that-is-wonderful woman, and we have a beautiful daughter together. We live this amazing life with each other, and every day is an absolute dream. So, I think there’s this part of me that feels guilty because I feel like I’m truly giving my all to you, and I didn’t do that with Helen--she didn’t even know my past. I’m so sorry that I’ve been talking about her so much, and I’m so sorry that I’ve made you feel like you’re not important to me. I promise to you that you are my best friend and the only person I can see myself with. You’re the love of my life, and I’m so fucking sorry that I haven’t made you feel as important as you are. You have given me so much: a great marriage, our sweet bug, an amazing fucking life. I owe everything to you. I am so sorry for how I’ve treated you.”

You reach over to hug John as you cry, then you bury your face in the crook of his neck as he holds you. He pulls you closer until you’re almost in his lap, and he clings to you like his life depends on it.

“And the implication that you’re just some novelty or trophy wife hurts.” he whispers into your hair, “You’re everything, Y/N. Everything to me. I don’t want you to ever think that there’s a time limit on my love for you. It’s never going to go away or wear off. If anything, my love for you gets deeper every day.”

You nod, “I know.”

“I love you so much, baby.” John says, then he leans back and cups your face, “And I’m sorry for embarrassing you the other night.”

You immediately look down as your cheeks turn red, then you sit back and shrug, “It’s okay.”

“I want you to know that I thought you looked fucking amazing.” he smiles as you look at him, and you shrug again. “I just…didn’t want you to think that I was not in the mood to talk but I wanted to have sex, you know? I didn’t want you to think I was using you or anything.”

“But I was the one initiating the sex…”

John nods, “I know, but I just didn’t want you to think I was just using you to have sex and that I was going to go back to just treating you like shit.”

You shrug as you look over at him, “I just wanted to know if you still found me attractive.”

“Oh, trust me, I do!” John laughs as you start to smile, “And I definitely realized that we haven’t had time alone, and I’m suffering.”

Looking up at John, you hold his gaze as you smile softly, then you look down and exhale, “I still feel a little stupid.”

“I’m sure,” John nods, then he tilts your chin up, “But it’s nothing compared to how I feel. I’ve treated the one person who loves me endlessly like shit. I’m embarrassed and shocked--shocked that you didn’t pack a bag and leave me.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you, John. I just wanted us to get back to the way we were.”

John reaches over for your hand and kisses the back of it, “And we will. I promise that I’ll work harder than ever to prove that to you.”

“I believe you.” you whisper as you hold his gaze, then you gesture to the bathroom, “I better shower. I need to get Ro soon.”

“Can I come with? When you pick up bug?”

You nod as you get up from the bed, “Of course, John.”

John sighs as he looks up at you, then he reaches out for your hand, “I really am so sorry.”

“I know,” you nod, then you squeeze his hand, “I love you.”

“I love you more.” he whispers, then he lets go of your hand as you walk into the bathroom.

__

Ronan was so excited to see her daddy when you picked her up earlier, and she’s been clinging to him all night. You’ve been clinging to him too, well, more like he’s been clinging to you! He’s been giving you an explosion of affection but you’re not complaining about it at all. He’s definitely not doing that toxic love bomb thing though--John is always affectionate.

“Dada!” Ronan squeals loudly as John pushes her stroller, and you lean down to look at her. She reaches out to touch your face as she giggles, and you playfully chew on her fingers.

Holding tight to John’s arm, you walk with him up the driveway and smile when he leans over to kiss your head.

“I need to finish that book tonight, but I think I’ll be able to finish it quickly. Probably within 45 minutes.” John says, and you reach down to get Ronan out of her stroller, “Then I thought we could watch a movie.”

“Sounds good.”

John smiles as he folds up Ronan’s stroller and rests it against the wall when he gets inside, then he turns to you, “I do wanna come with and say goodnight to my favorite bug.”

You hold Ronan in your arms as you walk up to her room with John behind you, then you set her down while you grab out her pajamas and the lotion she needs for her skin so she doesn’t get too dry at night. She has a fan that she’s been sleeping with to keep her cool at night, but sometimes it dries out her skin.

“Why are you getting so big, huh?” John says as he sits down to change Ronan’s diaper, and you turn around and smile as he tickles her tummy. Ronan laughs as John blows raspberries on her tummy, then she puts her hands on John’s face when John lifts her up and kisses her. “Our baby is growing up so fast.”

You frown as you sit down on the floor next to him, “I know. I can’t believe how big she’s getting.”

“Time is flying,” he whispers, watching as Ronan walks over to get a toy, “I feel like I’ve been saying that since the day you got pregnant. Makes me sad how fast it’s going by.”

You nod as you look over at him, “But it really hasn’t been that long. Seems like it, but it hasn’t.”

“True,” John smiles as Ronan walks over to him with a toy, and he smiles wide and playfully grabs her and makes a loud chomping noise on her stomach as she squeals with laughter.

John is the best dad ever, and Ronan is always laughing non-stop when he’s around. He’s always playing with her on the floor and encouraging her, and you’re so happy that she has such a great dad.

“Okay, okay, let’s not get too crazy.” you laugh as you stand up, “We’re trying to get her to sleep, remember?”

John laughs as he gets up from the floor, then he reaches down for Ronan and cradles her in his arms. He bounces her a little and smiles at her as she sucks her thumb, and you walk over to get a better look at her sweet face. Ronan looks over at you and reaches out for your face and she smiles when you playfully nibble on her fingers. You watch Ronan’s eyes growing heavy with sleep, and before you know it, she’s out.

“Babies,” you laugh as John leans down so you can kiss her, “I wish I could fall asleep that fast.”

John chuckles, “Give you a few cocktails and you do fall asleep that fast.”

“Yeah, true.”

“Goodnight, bug.” John whispers as he kisses Ronan’s cheek, then he lays her down while you turn on her nightlight and fan. He reaches for your hand and walks with you out of the bedroom, then he pats Bleu’s side as he trots in to stand guard all night. “Okay, I’m gonna head downstairs to finish up the book real quick, then I promise you have my undivided attention all night.”

You wrap your arms around John’s neck and lean up to kiss him, “Okay.”

“I promise that I am going to make up for the other night.” he whispers against your lips, and you nod your head. “I’ll be back up soon.”

You kiss John once more than you watch as he quickly heads down to the basement. You know that John will most likely take 30 minutes to get everything done, but you honestly want to join him. He doesn’t mind you hanging out with him while he works but he usually gets distracted by you since he always offers to let you help. Tonight you want to distract him in a different way.

Taking a deep breath, you head into your bedroom and open your drawer to get out the lingerie that you tried to wear for John, and you stare down at it.

“You can do this.” you whisper to yourself to get yourself hyped up, then you exhale shakily as you run a marquee of bad thoughts through your head.

What if John doesn’t like it? What if he doesn’t want to have sex with you right now? What if he gets mad at you for distracting him?

“Stop,” you whisper, silencing the thoughts clouding your head, then you stand up and look at yourself in the mirror, “He loves you, he thinks you’re sexy. He’ll love this.”

You head into the bathroom to get changed into the lingerie, and you grab out your make up bag to touch of your makeup that you’re already wearing. You exhale shakily as you stand in the bathroom and continue to get yourself a pep talk in your head, then you begin to undress.

__

Standing in front of the mirror, you turn to the side a little and smile as you check yourself out, then you fix the bra straps a little more. You look really good, and if John doesn’t think so, he’s out of his mind. You grab your robe off the hook and put it on, then you decide to forget the shoes since John will immediately turn around when he hears you’re wearing heels.

“Okay, you can do this. Who knows? This could be the best sex of your life…” you whisper to yourself as you walk down to the living room. You place your hand on the door handle as you try to calm yourself down, then you open the door and head downstairs.

John still has his back to you when you get to the bottom of the stairs, and you walk up behind him and lean against his back. He glances over his shoulder at you, then he leans back a little to kiss you.

“Bored upstairs?”

“Yeah, a little bit.” you say, then you wrap your arms around his waist, “Thought I’d come join you.”

John chuckles, “Well, you might be just as bored.”

You let go of John to pull off your robe, then you toss it on the couch behind you. Your hands shake as you stand there for a moment since you don’t know what to do, then you tap John’s shoulder and watch as he looks over his shoulder. He furrows his brow a little and spins around in his chair to get a better look at you, and his mouth instantly drops open as he stares at you.

“Do I look okay?”

John lets out a laugh in disbelief, then he grabs you and kisses you hard on the lips as he lifts you into his lap. He tosses the tool he was using over his shoulder as he kisses your neck, and you laugh when it rolls off the table and onto the floor.

“Should we go upstairs?” you ask as John continues to kiss your neck.

“No,” he shakes his head and sets you down, then he walks over to the sleeper sofa and pulls out the bed with little to no effort that makes the ache between your legs throb, “I’m taking you here. I can’t wait any longer.”

You shrug as you look at him, “Probably a good idea considering I think I might a little too loud.”

“No such thing.”

You smile as you watch John getting the bed all set up, and you laugh when he walks back over and grabs you to pull you into his arms. John carefully lays you down on the bed as you smile at him, then he crawls up to you and leaves kisses along your body. He tugs the garter belt that you’re wearing as you let out a small laugh, and you lean up to look at him as he gazes at you.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, pecking you before he gives your body more attention, “You look so fucking hot, baby.”

John continues to kiss all over your stomach and thighs, and you smile when he spreads your legs apart and gently rubs you over your underwear. You whimper softly as he slides his hand into your panties, then you prop yourself up on your elbows as you look down at him.

“You make me so wet, John.” you whisper as he smiles at you, then you lay back down so he can pull your underwear off. John loves a garter belt and stockings duo, so of course he doesn’t dare touch those. You close your eyes and bite your bottom lip when you feel John’s tongue sliding between your legs, and you arch your back and moan loudly when he sucks on your clit, “Oh, shit!”

John sucks on his finger before he slides it into your pussy, and you grip the mattress as he pumps his finger in and out slowly. He crawls up to you as he continues to finger you, and you grab him to pull him down to your lips.

“Fuck me,” you whisper to him as you frantically unbuckle his belt, and you smile when John lets out a small laugh, “What? I want you!”

“I want you too.” he whispers as he kneels on the bed to pull his shirt off, then he quickly kicks his pants and boxers off before he lays back down on top of you, “I always want you. Always.”

You wrap one arm around his neck and place your other hand on his cheek as he lays down on top and gets himself situated. You hold his gaze as he leans closer to your face, his lips brushing against yours and his breath hot against your skin, and you moan softly as he slips between your legs. John lets out a small breath as he pushes himself in deeper, then he swallows hard and shudders when he moves as far in as he can get. He says something about the feeling but it gets caught in his throat, so you’re not sure exactly what it was. You’ll take it as a compliment.

John slowly begins to thrust his hips as he holds your gaze, then he leans down to kiss you before he continues looking at you, “God, you’re so beautiful. I love you so much.”

“I love you,” you whisper to him as he smiles at you, “I love you more than anything.”

Digging your nails into John’s biceps, you arch your back and moan loudly as pleasure courses through your body, electrifying every nerve. The sound of John between your legs grows louder as you become wetter, and you cling to him as he picks up speed.

“Does that feel good?” he croons in your ear, and you whimper loudly, nodding your head, “You want me deeper?”

“Oh, fuck!” you scream loudly as John sits up to get a better angle, and you reach down and rub circles on your clit as John watches. He pats your thigh a little to get you to roll over, then he holds your hips as you kneel on the bed and wait for him to slide back between your legs.

John’s right hand slides up your back to your neck as he slowly pumps his hips, then he helps you sit up to lean against his chest. You look down as John pulls your bra off and tosses it to the floor, then you close your eyes and smile when John caresses your breasts and sucks on your neck. He immediately begins to fondle your breast with the piercing, and you let out a small laugh.

“Fuck, yes…” John whispers as he thrusts his hips, and you feel his hand sliding between your legs. You lean your hands on the back of the sofa as John grips your hips tighter and pounds into you, then you smile when he leans down to kiss your cheek. “My girl. My favorite person on this planet. Fuck, I love how you feel.”

You whimper as you lean back more to kiss John, then you squeeze your eyes shut and feel John’s breath against your neck as you both moan loudly. John jerks his hips harder one last time, then he lays down and smiles when you crawl on top of him. He holds your waist as you slide down every inch of him, and you place your hands on his chest as you roll your hips.

“You feel…” you shiver as your teeth begin to chatter, then you grip John’s chest harder, “You feel so…good! I need you to fuck me harder!”

John bends his knees and wraps his arms around you so you’ll lay against his chest, then he kisses you as he thrusts his hips. You cling to John as you let out a loud string of moans, then you grip his bicep as you nearly scream his name.

“Oh, shit! Oh, fuck, John! John!” you scream into the crook of his neck, then your body begins to jolt as you come.

John’s hips begin to move faster as he brings on his orgasm, and you cling to him even tighter since he’s losing his rhythm. He holds tight to you as he jerks his hips one last time to fill you up, then he frantically moves your hair out of your face to kiss you.

“Oh, god!” you moan loudly as John holds tight to you and rolls you onto the bed, then he kisses down to your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth. “Mm…”

“You…are so good.” John whispers, and you open your eyes to finally look at him, “So good, baby. I love you more than anything in this world, and I can promise that that will never change. You are the only person I want, the only person who I think of. You are a constant thought in my mind. No one else. Just my favorite girl.”

You reach up to touch John’s cheek, then you nod your head when he wipes away the tear slowly sliding down your cheek, “I love you so much, John. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You are never losing me. I am with you until our last days.” he whispers, then he gently kisses you, “You’re the love of my life. The absolute love of my life, and that will never change.”

You sit up and pull your knees close to your chest to cover your breasts since you always feel a little self-conscious after you and John are intimate, then you look at him and tilt your head a little as you try to unscramble your thoughts.

“I’m sorry for being so blunt about Helen,” you whisper as John reaches over for your hand.

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and moves closer, “Sometimes it’s okay to be blunt, especially when your husband is being clueless.”

You shake your head, “I don’t want you to think I’m still here always worrying about your love for me, or thinking that you’re still in love with Helen. Helen hasn’t been a subject of conversation for…a long time, then all of the sudden every story is about her. I know her birthday is soon…”

John nods as he sits up, then he looks over at you still covering yourself up. He lets out a small laugh, then he reaches over for his t-shirt, offering it to you. He grabs his boxers from the floor and pulls them on, then he smiles when you pull your hair away from your face.

He used to never be this comfortable around you. When you first started dating, he wouldn’t dare be completely naked in front of you. Obviously he was naked when you’d have sex, but after he’d usually put a blanket over his waist. Not anymore. Nope. He’ll just lay right there in front of you, completely naked. You certainly don’t mind. John is very well endowed, so you definitely don’t mind when he wants to…let it all hang out. He’s confident and it’s sexy.

“You know you don’t need to cover up around me.” he says, and you chuckle as you nod. “Why do you do that?”

“Just self-conscious, I guess.” you shrug, looking at him, “I’ve always been like that after sex though.”

Probably has something to do with your ex. He’d love your body during sex but he was usually pretty critical of it afterwards. John has never been like that but sometimes it’s hard to let go of trauma and rewire your brain. John definitely makes you feel sexy though and you know he’d never say a bad thing about your body.

John nods, “I know. But you should never feel insecure around me. I love your body.”

A smile spreads across your face as John lightly brushes his fingers over the stretchmarks on your thighs that you always worry about, then he moves closer to kiss you.

“Your body is…” John whispers as you hold his gaze, “Incredible.”

You laugh loudly, then you shove John’s shoulder a little, “You’re full of shit.”

John shakes his head as he lounges out next to you, “Not at all, Mrs. Wick. You look great.”

“Thanks,” you smile and lean down to kiss him.

“I know that I’ve been talking about Helen more and like I said the other night, I just wish she could be here to see how happy I am.” John whispers, and your eyes soften when he looks down at your hand in his, “We have the life that Helen and I would have wanted; quiet, simple, relaxed. We also have this other life that you and I want which is just chaotic and loud and unpredictable.”

You laugh as you nod, “Well, that’s life with a baby.”

“And it’s great!” he smiles, then it slowly fades a little, “I just wish Helen could see how happy you and Ronan make me. It’s all so confusing to me, so I’m sure it is for you as well.”

“No, I get it.” you nod when he looks at you, “It’s a great life, why wouldn’t you want her to see that?”

John nods, “Helen wasn’t just my wife, she was my friend. She was my only friend. I didn’t have Jimmy and Aurelio then.”

You reach over and cup his face when his chin wobbles a little, “I know.”

“She’d be happy for me.” he says, and you scoot closer to him, “I know there was a part of Helen that knew I wanted a family. I didn’t even know it until I met you, but maybe it was always there. She just figured it out before me. Having a family was something that she couldn’t give me. Only you could give me all of this.”

You smile tenderly when John looks up at you, and you lean over to kiss him a few times as he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You hold his gaze for a moment, then you look down at his hand on your thigh.

“She would be so happy to know that I’ve found my peace,” he says, and you look at him, remembering the words from Helen’s final card to John. “You’re my peace. In this chaotic world we live in, you give me peace. You calm me, you settle my brain and unscramble my mind. There is no one in this world that can give me that but you. I know this and you know this. You’re my soulmate.”

You sniffle as you look up at him, “I’m not asking you to never speak about her. I have never asked you to not speak about her or tell me stories about her. I’m well aware that you were married once before and you had a pretty good life with her, and believe it or not, I am so happy that you had that.”

John smiles softly, “I know you are.”

“I’m glad that you had her and had a beautiful life while it lasted.” you smile as you reach over to cup his face, “I’m glad you had someone to take care of you until I got here.”

“Me too,” he whispers, kissing the palm of your hand.

You sigh a little as you hold his gaze, “Maybe you want Helen to meet Ronan…”

John looks down and nods his head as he holds your hand, “I was thinking about asking you, but I wasn’t sure. I don’t want to cross any lines.”

“Maybe if she meets her…”

“I’ll stop talking about her,” he says, and you slouch and look down as you tear up, feeling guilty about being so upset. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

You look up at John as he tilts your chin up, “I feel bad now.”

“Don’t.” he shakes his head, “Don’t feel bad. I apologize for how I’ve made you feel, okay? I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you smile as you look at him, “And I am too.”

John smiles as he wraps his arms around you to hug you tight, and you melt in the warmth and security of his arms. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and inhale his cologne sticking to his skin, then you lean back and smile when he moves your hair out of your face.

“Why don’t we go out and see Helen tomorrow?” you say, and John nods his head. You get up from the bed and grab your lingerie that is thrown around the basement, then you smile at John as he grabs his jeans. “Sorry I distracted you from finishing your book.”

“It was a much welcomed distraction,” he whispers against your lips, then he stands back as you trade out his t-shirt for your robe since he’ll need to finish his work. He pulls his shirt back on and smiles as he sits down on the stool and pulls you between his legs, “I’ll be up in about 20 minutes.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and look into his eyes, “Okay.”

“I love you more than anything in this world. I want you to know that,” he whispers as you tear up, “You’re the only one for me.”

“I love you too.” you lean forward to kiss him, then you gesture to his book as you sniffle, “I’ll let you finish that.”

John pats your side as he smiles at you, “I’ll be up soon. Please don’t go up there and cry.”

“I wont,” you say, despite the fact that you’re tearing up. John tilts his head and gives you a look that makes you laugh, “I won’t! It’s just a little extra leftover tears from our conversation.”

“I mean it, peach,” he pulls you back to him, “If you’re still feeling upset, talk to me. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You cup his face and hold his gaze, “I am. I promise. I’m okay.”

John looks into your eyes for a moment longer, then he kisses you gently, “Okay. Just keep checking in with me, okay? I don’t want you to feel upset or anything.”

“I know.”

He’s truly the best man. He really, really is.

A smile spreads across your face as you watch John turning back to finish his book, and you head upstairs to take a shower.

__

John stopped by the florist to get some flowers for Helen, and you laughed when he came out with a huge bouquet for you as well. You’re certainly not upset with him anymore, but it is nice that he has apologized and acknowledged that he was talking about Helen too much.

You would never ask him to stop talking about her since you know he’s not purposely doing it to hurt your feelings. He’s just happy in his life and he feels guilty that he’s so happy and living a great life. It’s a hard thing for even John to wrap his head around half the time, so he doesn’t expect you to fully understand, but you understand enough.

Leaning against the tree, you smile as you watch John kneel down in front of Helen’s tombstone as he holds Ronan. You’re too far from him to be able to hear what he’s saying, but you can see his mouth moving. He bounces Ronan in his arms a little and kisses her cheek, then he looks at the granite tombstone as you tiptoe closer.

“Best thing that has ever happened to me, Hel, I swear. Being a dad is…amazing. It’s better than anything I could have imagined.” he whispers, and you stand back a little, “I still don’t know how I got so lucky. I’ll never understand what I did to deserve them. First with Y/N and now with Ronan. Still don’t know if I even deserve them. I’m trying my best not to let them down, but I might have failed lately with Y/N, but I’m trying. I’m trying every day to be better because that’s what she deserves. She’s…so amazing.”

Ronan looks over John’s shoulder and waves at you, and you smile as you wave back at her. She reaches out for you and causes John to look over his shoulder, and you grimace.

“Sorry,” you point at Ronan, “I can take her.”

“Nah, come here.” he sits down in the grass and reaches for your hand.

You sit down next to John and take Ronan to set her in your lap, then you look at him, “When was the last time you were here?”

“When we came here and her sister showed up,” he says, and you scrunch your face a little as he laughs, “Yeah. Well, I just wanted Helen to meet Ro since this is the last time I’ll be coming out here.”

You furrow your brow and shake your head, “John, I--”

“I know. I know you’re not suggesting that,” he nods as he looks at you, then he smiles, “But I think Helen would understand. I can already hear her yelling at me and telling me to stop coming to visit her when I have you and this chunky bug at home.”

You look down at Ronan as John pinches her cheek, then you look up at him as he continues.

“I have such a great life with you, peach.” he whispers, then he shakes his head as he gestures to the tombstone, “I’d be upset too if the tables were turned, so don’t ever think you’re wrong for feeling the way you feel. It’s just you and I now.”

“Us and the bug.”

John chuckles, nodding his head, “Us and the bug. And I love it.”

“We love you.” you smile as you meet him halfway to kiss him.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, groaning a little as he gets up. He reaches down to help you up, then he brushes away the grass on the back of your pants before reaching for your hand, “I think we deserve some ice cream.”

You chuckle softly, “I’m not trying to blame everything on it because it obviously wasn’t all me, but…I got my period this morning.”

John looks down at you and laughs, “Really?”

“Yeah…” you blush a little as you nod, then you look at him, “I know I was being a little…dramatic, but now it’s a little more obvious as to why. My periods since having Ro have been…rough, so to speak.”

“That’s okay,” John smiles as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, “I was mostly to blame though.”

You stop at the car and watch as John gets Ronan in her car seat, then you smile at him and wrap your arms around him tight. He smooths your hair away from your face with both his hands, then he cups your face and kisses you tenderly as your eyes roll shut. He wraps his arms around your waist and places his hands firmly on your ass, and you both start to laugh when he squeezes a handful a few times.

“So grateful for you, peach.” he whispers, and you tilt your head as you smile at him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you peck him again, then you get in the car and watch as he looks over at Helen’s tombstone one last time, which causes you to tear up a little. You smile as John gets in the car and reaches for your hand, and you let out a small laugh when Ronan squeals loudly in the backseat. “Yeah, you tell him, Ro. Hurry up, dad!”

John leans up to look in the rearview mirror at Ronan, then he laughs, “Okay, okay! Let’s go get some ice cream!”

__

You wander around the house and look for any of Ronan’s toys that might have been snuck away by Sadie, who is notorious for stealing toys, and you smile when you walk past the office and see John looking at the computer screen.

“Hey, you…” John says just as you walk past, and you lean against the door frame and look at him, “What are you doing?”

“Well,” you take a deep breath and cross your arms, “Tess called me a little bit ago and told me to keep an eye on Ro’s toys since Sadie likes to chew on baby toys, so I am currently hunting any lost toys down.”

John chuckles, “Found any yet?”

“Nope,” you shake your head, then you walk in and look around the office, “Oh! Spoke too soon.”

You bend over and find a toy hidden under a pillow, then you hold it up and look at it. It’s not one of Ronan’s most played with toys, so you’re not too upset about it. You’re not upset with Sadie either; these things happen.

“Ro never plays with that anyway,” John says, and you nod as you toss it into the garbage can next to him. He turns in the chair a little and smiles, and you walk over to sit in his lap as he wraps his arm around you, “You smell good, like…vanilla.”

“It’s the perfume you bought me.” you smile, then you inhale deeply before you look at him, “Look, I know the conversation has moved on, we’re all good, it’s been hours, but…I don’t want you to not go see Helen anymore, and I know you’re probably thinking ‘she’s just going to be upset when I go’, but I won’t. I don’t want to take that away from you. Seeing the way you took one last look at her grave just broke my heart. I can’t take that from you.”

John rubs your back and shakes his head, “You’re not taking it from me. I’m choosing you. I’m choosing to put the past in the past.”

“But she has no family here,” you say as John wipes away the tear on your cheek, “She has no one here to tend to her grave or come out to give her flowers for her birthday. I can’t stand the thought of that. I’ve always tried my best to respect your relationship with Helen because I know if I ever say anything bad or negative about her, you’re gone. You’d leave.”

“I would not.” John says, seeming hurt by the accusation.

You look down at your hands and swallow hard, “Or you’d hold resentment towards me for it.”

“No. I know you,” John whispers, rubbing his thumb against your chin, “I know you better than I know myself, so I know you’d never say anything bad about Helen. You’re not that kind of person.”

“I would never say anything bad about her,” you say softly, and he nods as you inhale deeply, “I’m not saying we need to go have picnics out there for her birthday and every holiday, but...”

John smiles, “How about this? How about when I feel like going out there, I will?”

You hold his gaze for a moment, then you look down at your wedding ring, “Um…”

A small laugh escapes John’s lips as you look back up at him, “You think I’m going to go there all the time now, don’t you?”

“Well…” you look at him and laugh a little since he caught you.

“I’m not,” he shakes his head, then he sits back a little and looks at you, “I think this is where I should spend most of my time, and I like that. I like it here. Just the three of us.”

You nod, “I guess there’s this part of me that knows that if it were you that…passed, I would sleep on your grave.”

John chuckles, “Well, I’m flattered.”

“I am so desperately in love with you that I can’t imagine moving on and marrying someone else.”

“That’s good…” John nods, raising his brows, “Considering I’m alive and healthy.”

You playfully roll your eyes and shove his shoulder, “You know what I mean!”

“I do,” he nods as he holds your gaze, “And before I met you, I felt the same way. Who knows, maybe after I--”

“Oh, fuck no!” you get up from his lap and put your hand out, “We are definitely not going there. You’re living until you’re 160.”

John laughs as he reaches for your hand, “As long as you’re here with me, I am totally fine with that.”

Letting out a small sigh, you walk back over to him and stand between his legs as you cup his face, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he smiles, leaning up a little to kiss you, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re gonna be sick of me soon.”

“Impossible.” you whisper, then you kiss his forehead and smile at him as you lightly rub your thumb over his beard, “Popcorn and a movie?”

John gets up from the chair and nods his head, then he wraps his arms around you from behind and walks into the kitchen with you still tight in his grip. He buries his face in the crook of your neck as you get a bag of popcorn out to pop, and you laugh when he doesn’t let go.

“Not letting go?”

“Never,” he whispers, and you look over your shoulder at him and smile when he tightens his grip.

You close your eyes and wrap his arms around you more, then you lean back against his chest and feel the warmth he radiates soaking into your skin as you smile.

“Good.”

__

taglist:

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

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Night Nurse

A John Wick x Helen Fic

When nurse Helen Morgan is caught in the crossfire of a shootout and aids the injured John Wick, she’s faced with two options: serve the High Table, or be executed as a Witness. She tells herself her choice to work at the Continental has everything to do with survival, and excellent pay, and *not* her growing feelings for the Tall, Dark, and Handsome Assassin™ who got her into this mess in the first place, thank you very much.

I.

John didn’t take the subway often, but with the Mustang in the shop after an unfortunate incident involving a mark, a concrete pole, and the ‘Stang’s door—two out of three survived—his machine was in Aurelio’s capable hands, and John Wick was on foot.

It was a chain of events that might have caused him to send a thank you to the unfortunate Serbian—if the man hadn’t been, you know, dead. Because it was the cause and effect that eventually led to John laying eyes on her for the first time. Dressed in rose-pink nurse’s scrubs, her thick auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail, clearly exhausted from a twelve-hour shift—she’d looked up at him over the top of her book, and the shine in her amber-brown eyes took his breath away.

Her choice of reading material had been…interesting. Crime and Punishment by Dostoyevsky. A solid classic, to be sure, but so god-damned depressing.

John never made small talk with strangers. So when the words, “Some light reading for the evening commute?” spilled from his mouth completely without his permission, it was like watching himself from outside his own body.

She’d lowered her book a fraction to offer him a tired smile. She was beautiful, and he was sure that strangers tried to chat her up on the subway all the time. Way to be that guy, he chided himself, hanging on the possibility all the while that this exquisite creature might deign to let him hear her voice just once.

It had been a long week, but really? Maybe he was going soft in his old age. He wasn’t actually old, to be sure. He’d be thirty-nine in a few months. For an assassin though?

Practically ancient.

She’d turned the book to glance at the cover. It was a well-worn paperback edition with a dour looking painting of a man in a doorway. She wrinkled her nose, and it was fucking adorable. “I’m trying to read more classics,” she admitted.

“How is that going?”

He didn’t know where he got the cheek to tease this total stranger about her reading selection. Maybe it was the fact that she was actually reading a paper book, over endlessly scrolling through an electronic device. Maybe he was a book snob—ok, he was a book snob—but paper, in his opinion, was the proper way to go.

Kindle readers just smelled like plastic and the sadness of modern convenience.

“Okay. It’s good, but this Raskolnikov is fainting a lot.”

“That’s Russians for you,” said John, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile. He’d certainly seen a few when he approached. Lots of fleeing and yelling, too.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled at a stranger.  

“Oh really?” She lifted her eyebrows, laughing a little. Those eyes sparkled with mirth, glittering like good liquor in a sunbeam, and his heart ached as though clenched by a fist.

“Yeah.”

She shook her head, her book resting in her lap. He’d won her attention—and to be honest, he wasn’t really sure what to do with it after coming this far.

“Are you…Ukrainian or something?” He felt her looking him up and down. He liked it, when she looked at him. He always dressed well, but for once he was glad for it for some other reason besides the tactical armor sewn into the lining of his bespoke suit jacket.

“Belarussian,” he found himself admitting to this woman without a thought.

It had been a lifetime, since he’d admitted that to anyone.

She was good. She’d make an incredible operative, he found himself thinking. If she’d asked for his address or his social security number, (fake as it was), he might have given that up too.

“Wow. I never would have guessed.”

No one did. He’d worked hard to lose his accent, so he could slip through society unnoticed when he needed to. First for the Ruska Roma, then for himself.

“I’ve been here a while,” he admitted quietly, looking down, suddenly feeling as though he’d shared much too much with this woman who was kind enough to speak to a stranger on the subway. The fuck do you think you’re doing, Wick?

“Well…I’m from Boston. It’s not nearly as interesting, but I feel like a foreigner here sometimes.”

John looked up at her then, a lock of hair fallen over his eyes. “I never would have guessed,” he parroted in perfect deadpan, and it won him a smile that utterly melted his black little heart. He felt his mouth doing that alien thing again—smiling. A small one, to be sure, but it was definitely more exercise for those muscles than they’d received in a year. Years, maybe. A lifetime?

“Gee, thanks. I’m Helen, by the way.”

She extended her hand, and he could not stop himself from clasping that small mitt in his own. She felt delicate in his grasp. Breakable. He hated that that was the first thing he assessed when shaking someone’s hand. He couldn’t turn it off.  

“John.”

She raised an eyebrow, that sparkle back in her eyes.

“John from Belarus, huh?”

Fuck him, but was he actually blushing?  

“Most people trip over Jardani.”

And there it was. The most truth he’d told anyone about himself since he was a wet-behind-the-ears young man.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

“What a shame. It has a nice ring to it. Jardani.”

The sound of his true name on her lips did things to him that he knew he didn’t entirely understand. An additional side effect: it seemed he couldn’t let her go. A long moment passed between them—what felt like an infinity—of heavy eye contact with her hand in his. It set off fireworks in his heart, and finally he released her as though he’d been burned.

“Sorry.”

She canted her head, that thick russet ponytail flipping over her shoulder. He wanted to run his hands through it, and in that moment he knew he must be losing his mind.

“Don’t be.”

The train slowed, and reluctantly she stood from her seat, steadying herself with her hand on the pole he also grasped like a lifeline. “This is my stop.” He nodded, feeling like an idiot, not entirely sure why, or what had just happened, really. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too. Helen. From Boston.”

She smiled again, and if he could have bottled the feeling it called up in him, he would have synthesized the most addictive street drug on the planet.

“Don’t hold it against me,” she threw over her shoulder as she made her way with the crowd for the doors, the glitter in her eyes hitting him like a punch to the gut.

He could think of several things he would have liked to hold against her, none of which were acceptable to mention in polite company. So he simply held up his hand in a silent wave, feeling as though he’d lost something precious as the doors slid closed, and the train carried him away from the one truly good thing he’d found in this city

What came next bordered on questionable behavior, John knew.

The next week—because he at least had that much self-control left—he found himself riding the subway again, at the exact same time as before, reasoning that she might regularly get off a seven o’clock shift at the hospital nearby, and catch this train, to go home somewhere in Brooklyn.

He had not followed her home. Not even to satisfy his later curiosity, wondering if like a total lovestruck idiot he’d revealed a piece of his mysterious past to an undercover operative working for some secret—no doubt nefarious—goal.

Another week went by, before he happened upon her again. She was reading a different book this time. Moby Dick. Not bad, considering what a goddam brick was Crime and Punishment. She was a fast reader. He wasn’t sure why that titillated him so fucking much.

He didn’t approach her this time. He did have self-control. He did. He did! Even though he immediately conjured the perfect opening line. Call me Ismael. He simply stood in nearly the same place as last time, one hand on the pole, the other scrolling through nothing on his phone, while secretly stealing glances her way.

Fuck, but she was stunning. That thick hair pulled back made her neck miles long, and her profile could have inspired the Renaissance sculptors of Italy to weep. Even in those shapeless lavender scrubs, he could see that she was tall, and fit, but curved in the most heartbreaking places. John appreciated feminine beauty, certainly, but it was rare that he felt such a visceral reaction to a woman’s charms. It was as though just the sight of her triggered something long buried in his heart, something that had been sleeping all along, waiting.

Either that, or he was, at long last, going off the deep end.  

Engrossed in her reading, she did not notice him until the crowd shifted and she stood for her stop, her face lighting up with a smile when her eyes met his. She held her hand up in a wave, but did not pause in her mission to get off the train and go home. He couldn’t blame her, even when a part of him wanted to follow.  

God, but the feat of self-control it took, not to follow.

Pathetic.

It didn’t stop him from making it a habit, long after he got the Mustang back from Aurelio.

Sometimes, when he won the odds of picking just the right train and just the right car (she seemed to prefer the second to last, and the train schedule wasn’t always reliable), they would exchange a few sentences about books, or the weather. He hung on her every word, even though she usually teased him the entire conversation. No one spoke to him like that, he realized. No one in his world dared. It was as refreshing as it was jarring, and like a junkie needing a fix he just found himself craving more.

Other times, he would play it cool, and pretend to work on email on his phone after offering a reserved smile or a raised hand in hello.

She always had a book, and he determined that she was probably relieved on the evenings when he didn’t bother her. Yet, the next time he won the odds of picking the right train, she came over to him, steadying herself with her hand below his on the pole.

He was achingly aware of how close their hands rested on that metal rod. She cradled a new book under her arm. A red paperback, with a shadowed outline of a woman behind a V. He could just make out the title over her arm. Codename Villanelle. Noticing where his attention was fixed, she looked up at him with a sly little grin, and he knew he was in for it.

He could hardly wait.

“Bet you thought I was pretty brainy before. But the truth is I’m hopelessly addicted to spy novels. Assassins, intrigue, exotic locales?” She gave an exaggerated shiver with an insouciant grin. “I’m trash for it.”

John felt his mouth doing that strange thing it did around her, the corners turning up, his eyebrows raising. So, she liked assassins, did she? If only she knew.

“No judgement here. Is it good?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty entertaining so far. Smart, too. And I like reading about exotic locales I'll probably never get to visit. Paris, Rome, London…”

John canted his head, fixing her with that stare that she’d begun to think could see right through her. “What makes you so certain about that?”

Helen shrugged and waved down at her scrubs with a lifted eyebrow. He fought very hard not to follow the exact motion of her hand with his eyes, the way he did when he was pretending his attention lay elsewhere. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to infer from the gesture though. A lack of money working as a nurse? Lack of time off?

Whatever her perceived barriers, he had to bite his tongue, heading off on the urge to offer to take her to those places, and anywhere else she might like to go while they were at it.  

“Anyway.” She nodded down at the book. “No fainting Russians in this one. They’re pretty tough.”

John had watched one do just that due to blood loss just the other night, but decided it would be best not to mention it.

“I think you might be the last woman on the planet reading paper books.” 

“I prefer paper,” she admits. “Plus, when you're engrossed in your paper book, no one is going to snatch it.” 

“That happened to you?”

“Yeah, I lost a Kindle that way a couple years ago. The guy was probably disappointed it wasn’t an iPad, but still.”

John frowned, looking around like the offending thief might be on the train at that very moment. She rewarded him with an appreciative, if not knowing little smile. “Now it's paperbacks for me.” Her eyebrow lifted, the way he had come to anticipate with almost child-like enjoyment. It made him feel like she was letting him in on a secret.

It made him feel like they were almost…friends.

“It makes it hard to read raunchy romance novels in public though,” she confessed. “Their covers are so ridiculous.”

John found himself cracking a smile at that—a wide one this time, even going so far as to show teeth, just for a second. 

“50 Shades is a heavy tome to lug around.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“I have better taste than that, at least. I prefer some history with my romance.”

“Like, time traveling nurse in eighteenth century Scotland, history?” he teased, certain he’d overheard such a thing being the next popular craze the last time he’d been in a bookshop.

“You know, I wanted to like those books, they're beautifully written, but Gabaldon lost me in the first one with that dash of glorified spousal abuse. I just couldn't get past it.”

John’s expression pulled in a frown. “I didn't know. I'm surprised they're so popular.”

"I guess it never hurts that there's a TV show." She lifted an eyebrow, like they were in on a joke about books that were turned into movies. It was adorable. Everything she fucking did was adorable, and every passing minute John felt himself falling deeper and deeper under her spell. He found himself imagining a life in which they did have inside jokes, and laughed about them together by just sharing a secret look from across the room.

Could he be so lucky.  

She moved a fraction closer, presumably so that she could hear better. Yet with his arm up on the pole, it almost gave the illusion that she was standing within the shelter of his body. He liked that, maybe a little too much.  

“We keep talking about me. What kind of books do you like to read?”

He lowered his head down closer to her, drawn like a moth to the flame.

“You're going to think I'm a book snob.” 

“Oh no. You only read classics?” He was eighty percent sure she was teasing him.

“Yeah, mostly. And...”

What was it about this woman that made him want to bare his soul to her? To tell her every little private thing?

“And, what?” she goaded. “Come on, you can't leave me hanging now.”

“I bind books,” he admitted. “It’s...a hobby.” He didn’t know why he felt ridiculous admitting that. Like he was a fraud, pretending to have a pastime like a real, normal, human being.

“Wow. That's amazing.”

It wasn’t the response he expected. The light in her eyes filled him with a spreading warmth. It was utterly addicting, this feeling she inspired in him.

“I enjoy it.”

“So are you an artist? Do you make the pages, or do you repair old manuscripts?”

It was an astute question, and he felt himself warming to her even more.

“Repair, mostly. I pick things up at auction, or rare bookstores, that just need...to be put back together again.”

He didn’t really want to think about the psychological implications of a man who had been torn to pieces more than once, taking solace in repairing something that would outlast him, with any luck.

She looked up at him with a gentleness in her polished mahogany eyes that twisted his insides.

“I can understand that.”

“You're a nurse?” He realized that he’d assumed, but she’d never actually told him as much.

“An RN, actually. In the emergency room at NewYork-Presbyterian.”

“You must be great under pressure.” 

“I guess. I just...like helping people who have had a bit of bad luck. I feel like...we're putting the universe to rights again, in some little way.” The weight of John’s stare maybe caused her to add, “Wow, that sounds conceited.”

He shook his head, unable to form words around the pesky lump that had formed in his throat. He spent his life sowing chaos across the globe, snuffing out lives, while this lovely woman saved them. A chill settled in his bones, as he realized that this should be the last time he spoke to her, for her own sake.

He had no right to contaminate her light with the shadow of his presence.

The thought of never seeing her again made a sickly tremor run from his heart to his limbs, his grip white-knuckling on the pole. He realized she was waiting for an answer. That was how conversations worked. Someone said something, then you were supposed to say something back. Finally he managed to get out something true: “I think you're amazing.” 

“Ok.” She raised an eyebrow, searching his face, and he felt like she could see straight through him too. “It would be more convincing if you didn't frown when you said it.”

Again, she was teasing him. Kind of.  

He sighed, wanting to bang his head on the metal pole. “I mean...it’s not you. It’s…”

Me. 

I'm a monster. The Baba Yaga. The Boogeyman. The Thing That Goes Bump In The Night.

She waited patiently, looking so earnestly up at him that he could have cried. He could neither even fathom where to begin to tell her the truth of his thoughts, or bring himself to offer a lie when she looked at him like that. He was acutely aware of the seconds ticking down of their ride. Soon, they might never see each other again.

“How about this,” she inserted into the silence between them, seemingly throwing out a lifeline. “You could tell me about it over dinner. There's a great Thai place just down the street from my stop.”

Was she asking him in a date? Or did she just think the seemingly harmless nut job she'd befriended on the train needed someone to talk to? He hoped she didn't pick up strays so readily, for her own safety, but he already knew she had a bigger heart than most. 

“I—”

John couldn't say what exactly tipped him off. A change in the air. The specific angle of an arm in the crowd reaching for a gun. The look in the man's eyes at the end of the car behind Helen.  The years and years of hard-won experience. But he knew he had a split second to make a choice. Save himself and eliminate the shooter—or save her and take some damage.

He did not think before reacting. Not really. He grabbed her and spun, shielding her with his larger body and his armor-tailored suit. He felt at least three bullets strike him in the back before he lost count. Jesus fucking christ that hurt.

“Stay down,” he ordered, tucking her behind a row of seats, and whipping off his jacket to cover her. Stupid, maybe, to give up that advantage, but if something happened to her he wasn’t sure he wanted to survive.

He really was getting tired of this shit. 

While the attacker reloaded John sprang, knocking the gun away just as the new clip slid home. The man drew a knife, making a quick swipe that grazed Johns ribs. He slashed twice more, both times John barely skipped out of reach. The third time John blocked and twisted the man's arm, trying to break it. The attacker had training though, and he wormed away. They grappled, exchanging strikes. John couldn't go for his gun, both hands occupied with keeping that knife out of his body. He failed a little, the tip of the blade sinking into the flesh of his shoulder. Through gritted teeth John backed him off with a head butt and a kick. He found the attacker’s gun had skittered off under the seat, just in reach. As the attacker reared to throw the knife John shot him with a single round through the head.

By this time most of the passengers had retreated to the adjoining cars, screaming. But Helen remained, and rather than run for safety she rushed to his side, assessing the damage. “Oh my god, John!”

He groaned as she applied pressure to the wound in his shoulder. “I have a first aid kit in my backpack. But we have got to get you to the hospital.” 

“No time. No hospital,” he found himself insisting through gritted teeth. The train slowed to a stop. The doors whooshed open. They had to go. John pushed to his feet, taking one last disdainful look at his attacker’s corpse before exiting. 

By some stroke of luck, The Continental wasn't far from that stop, though in the shape he was in, it could have been in Mongolia. When he stumbled Helen was there, supporting him with his uninjured arm around her shoulders. She was stronger than he imagined, and even in the middle of all the chaos he couldn’t stop himself from adding it to the list of things that made this woman endlessly attractive to him.

“Where do you think you're going?” she demanded. “Wait for the paramedics. It was clearly self-defense! I’ll tell them.” 

People were seeing the body in the train car, and despite some people’s morbid efforts to film the carnage, pandemonium was breaking loose. They had to ride the wave of the crowd to the surface without getting trampled.  

“Can’t,” he managed to get out. “You...should go.” It killed him to say it aloud. 

“Are you kidding? I'm not leaving you!”

He didn't have the time or the energy to fight with her. Never mind that his black heart rejoiced with a full-out aria to hear her say those words as they spilled out on the street. He would try again closer to the Continental. It was just a block away. 

When an ambulance and police car raced past with sirens blazing he felt Helen tense, and knew she meant to flag them down. He tightened his grip on her, even though it hurt like a sonofabitch, turning them so that they partially hid behind a news stand. He could feel the heat of a fresh surge of blood seeping beneath his shirt.

She looked up at him with those beautiful, bright brown eyes held wide. Lost, confused, but somehow, not afraid. This woman did have a nerve of steel. “John?”

She was a smart woman. She was putting two and two together. A man who’d killed his attacker on the subway and was avoiding official assistance probably had a few more things of his own to hide.

“It’s ok, Helen.” He couldn’t believe how much he wanted to kiss her right then, with her body tucked up against his in their dark little nook on the street. “But you really should go now.”

Again, she shook her head, and he sighed. He could see the Continental in the distance, that distinctive sharp corner jutting out, a beacon of hope for creatures of the Underworld like him. He could feel his body going cold with blood loss. He needed to get to Doc, and sanctuary, and hopefully find out what the fuck that shit on the subway had been about.

But then again, he mused, as they started walking again, maybe he was the one going soft. Keeping a regular routine like he’d been doing the past month—or was it two?—made a man like him quite the target.

He knew better. He’d known better all along, but…he hadn’t cared. He’d come this far—survived this long—purely as an act of defiance, as anything. Defiance of those who took him when he was just a child, and who had moulded him into the killer he was today for their own ends. Made him their servant, practically their slave. At last, he almost had freedom, or the closest one could get to it, in this life. He looked to the worried woman at his side, and wondered if this would be the stunt that brought him too close to the sun.

As they scaled the steps of the Continental Helen looked upon the opulent portal with a frown. “You want to go to a fancy hotel over a hospital?”

He paused at the front door, leaning against the frame. Hopefully, not leaving a bloodstain the staff would have to clean up. He tried to be a considerate guest. It was one of the many reasons they liked him here. He wasn’t sure he could quite say that Charon and Winston were his friends—but they weren’t his enemies. That went a long way in their world.

“There’s a doctor here I know,” he assured her. “I’ll be fine.” Maybe it was the blood loss, or maybe just the exquisite agony of her standing so near, even if just to keep pressure on the wound at his shoulder. Even after a long day at the hospital, she smelled sweet, like honey and healing herbs. He would remember her for the rest of his life, short as it may prove, with aching fondness. He felt emboldened to cup the side of her face in his large hand, taking what he was sure would be his last opportunity to look into those brilliant caramel-colored eyes. “You need to go,” he told her quietly. “You don’t belong in my world.”

It hurt worse than getting stabbed, saying those words.

Rather than obey this, what he certainly thought was, an ominous but heartfelt warning, she frowned, heat flaring in her eyes like sparking embers. She was angry, he realized, and it was ridiculous how it made his heart—and things lower—flutter. Bookish Helen chatting on the subway was adorable. Angry Nurse Helen was fucking hot.

“You idiot. I’m not leaving you until I know you’re in good hands. Come on, then.”

She caught him up with the force of a hurricane, practically dragging him inside the building, and she probably would have started barking orders to bring a doctor to the well-dressed and dangerous-eyed patrons milling in the lobby, had Charon not materialized before them with an expression of polite concern. “Mr. Wick. It appears you are out of sorts.”

“Yes, I’ve had an accident. Can I get a room, and the services of the good Doc?”

“Certainly.” Charon, bless him, already had a key in his hand. “And your…companion?”

Helen stood in this opulent lobby in her pink scrubs with little daisies printed on the shirt with a spine of steel and her chin lifted like a lioness, daring the concierge to tell her she couldn’t be there.

“I vouch for her,” sighed John, knowing that the consequences of those four little words weighed heavier than Helen could possibly know.

“Very well, sir. Please, follow me.”

CHAPTER II. A03

[meetmeinthematinee]

Nuts & Bolts

Hello! Here's an unexpected John Wick x Aurelio drabble! There will be a part 2 at some point....probably. Lotta swearing, a wrench gets thrown, some mild teasing and thats about it.

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/34151404

The sound of Aurelio's colourful swearing punctuated by the occasional frustrated huff and tools clattering on metal greeted John as he slipped into the otherwise deserted garage. Usually a hustling space filled with mechanics but this late Saturday night it was just Aurelio--or well, the two of them now, he mused as he shut the door behind him. Aurelio stiffened at the sound of the door and whipped the wrench in his hand at the direction of the noise--freezing as he caught sight of John, who easily caught it like it had been a baseball. “Jeeeeesus Christ John! Scared the fuck outta me.” “Forgot I was coming by?” Aurelio glanced at the watch laid out on the trolley beside him and grimaced. “Lost track of time. Sorry pal. No hard feelings?” John smirked and handed the wrench back, keeping hold of it for just a few moments before letting go of it. “No hard feelings. Might want to work on your aim though.” He smirked. “Well, can’t all be you huh? It’s why I stick to cars.” Aurelio said as he placed the wrench in the tool box. “Bourbon? Help yourself, I’m kinda...” He asked John and waved his grease and carbon coated hand gesturing to the bottle and glasses on the tool cart next to him. John nodded and tilted the half empty bottle toward him. “Another?” He asked before pulling the stopper, pouring himself a glass. “It’s Saturday, why the hell not?” He topped up his glass and they tipped their glasses towards each other before taking a long draught of the rich amber bourbon. Aurelio was sweaty and dishevelled in a way that John hadn’t seen before. Normally even elbows deep in an engine bay he’d look unruffled. John took another sip of his drink and stepped in closer so that they were standing shoulder to shoulder as they gazed under the hood. John shot a sidelong glance at Aurelio, who was currently glaring and clenching and unclenching his fist like he wanted to punch something. “Rough job?” He barked out a sharp laugh. “Could say that.” He took another sip of his drink and set it down before he leaned heavily on the frame of the car. His arm just shy of brushing against John. “Anything I can do?” “Unless you can line up all these goddamned injectors and jam this fucking fuel rail back on--probably not.” “Show me?” “You’re fuckin’ serious?” “Yeah.” Aurelio pushed off the car and walked behind John, encouraging him to lean in over the side of the car. Their faces were close together as he explained the mechanics of how the part should be installed and where to look to make sure everything was aligned. “You’re gonna need to get everything in place and then hold it down until I can get the bolts in--and we don’t get it I’m gonna shoot the fuckin’ thing.” “Guess I better get it right.” Aurelio watched as John pressed the fuel rail into place almost effortlessly and exactly as he’d instructed. The only give away that it took any effort at all were the tense muscles of John’s forearms, the veins in his hands more pronounced. John eyed his work carefully, his glance sliding over to Aurelio for confirmation that he’d gotten it. “Oh, fuck you, John.” He laughed, hanging his head for a moment before grabbing the bolts and socket wrench. John grinned at him and kept hanging on, a playful glint in his eyes. “Anytime, pal.” Aurelio grinned back even as his heart pounded. “Don’t tempt me.” He said as he secured the first bolt with practised ease. “And what if I want to?” John said as he watched him work. Taking in the way he braced himself against the frame of the car with one hand and torqued the wrench with the other, the way the grime and grease had accentuated each line on his knuckles, the veins in his hands standing out in sharp relief against the smooth skin of his strong hands. Aurelio stopped dead in the middle of tightening the next bolt. Glancing over at John whose face had definitely moved closer to his. John took in how Aurelio's lips pressed together, the way his eyes had darkened. “You’re good with your hands. You know I appreciate that.” Aurelio replied with a knowing smirk, picking right back up where he left off and

setting in the last few bolts.

[overheardatthecontinental]

John Wick: Never have I ever... been arrested.

Helen: So I drink?

Aurelio: No, it's only if you've done it.

Helen: Got it... [Drinks]

Aurelio: I can't believe you've been arrested!

Marcus: I can't believe John hasn't.

[johnwickmorelikejohnthicc]

Winston: If you bite it and you die, it's poisonous, but if it bites you and you die, it's venomous.

Marcus: What if I bite it and it dies?

Charon: That means you're poisonous.

John: What if it bites itself and I die?

Aurelio: That's voodoo.

Marcus: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Winston: That's correlation, not causation.

John: What if we bite each other and neither of us die?

Helen: That's kinky.

*shocked silence*

[randomfandomimagine]

Fate Is Sealed. Chapter 4

Fandom: John Wick Pairing: John x Elizabeth (OC)

Previous Chapter* - Chapter Index - Next Chapter

READ IT ON AO3

A/N: I know, it took forever to update, I’m sorry! I needed to catch up posting requests and everything, but you can reread the previous chapter* to refresh your memory. I plan on updating more often, I hope you’re enjoying this fanfic so far!

Living like this was torture. Despite his somewhat reassuring words that it wasn’t his intention to kill me, John Wick’s visit made me paranoid. I saw him in every suited man, in every shadow. I heard him in every deep voice, in every loud sound.

Worst of all, if for some reason he decided to just send a message to Stoakes, I was fucked. Not only had I not kept my end of the deal, I had sent John Wick to him.

Days passed, and I refused to leave my house. I kept all windows closed and all doors locked, just in case. I tried to distract myself with TV or doing anything at all, but dark thoughts always reached me.

I was so fed up with all this bullshit. I wasn’t even supposed to belong to this world. If Gaige got off my back, I could probably break all connections to it. But I wouldn’t be so lucky. Especially now that he would be pissed at me.

Sitting in the same couch that I had felt trapped in on just a couple of days ago, I feebly watched TV, though not really processing what was happening in it.

I looked down to my forearm, reading the words tattooed in the skin.

“Audaces fortuna iuvat…” I said out loud, reciting the mantra that I had established for myself.

Resting my head against the back of the couch, I heaved a loud sigh. I knew things wouldn’t magically get fixed and that I would need to do something. But what was I supposed to do? Go around killing everyone?

I was startled out of my thoughts when my phone buzzed. I held my breath as I picked it up and looked at the screen, almost expecting to see ‘John Wick’. Thankfully, it was just Aurelio.

“What’s up?” I took the call, turning the TV off to get rid of the noise.

“Lisa, my love!” He was in a teasing mood as usual. “I got good news”

“Promise?” I passed a hand through my hair, waiting for his response.

“Your bike is fixed! Drop by whenever and you can finally take it home”

“Finally” I repeated, excited to ride it again. The car was too big and slow for my liking.

“When are you planning to come then?”

“Probably right now”

“Good, I’ll be here”

“Thanks, Aurelio”

“No problem, doll!”

I hung up with a newfound eagerness, exhilarated to be getting something good for a change. Before I left the house, I prepared myself like I always did. Paper clip in my sleeve, gun in my belt and knife in my pocket. Just in case.  These last days, life had been kicking me down more than usual, so it felt nice to go out to meet with a friend and pick up my dear motorbike.

Aurelio received me with the usual friendly yet playful smirk plastered on his lips. He opened his arms at the sight of me, but I knew he wasn’t going in for a hug, he was mockingly praising me.

“You’re alive!” Was his greeting. “You know, I was scared I might never see you again”

“How sweet” I rolled my eyes at him. “If you have anything corny to say, save it”

“What I have is a lot of questions” He carefully leaned in the hood of the closest car and crossed his arms over his chest. “If he’s alive, and you’re alive, what the fuck happened?”

“How do you know I didn’t kill him?” I cocked an eyebrow, smirking at him.

“Please” Aurelio let out a heartfelt guffaw. “Besides, if John Wick died, I think we’d all know”

“True…”

“So what happened? Did you two fall in love or something?”

“No!” I huffed in outrage to his suggestion. “We hate each other”

My friend peered at me, a smart glint in his eyes told me he had theories of his own concerning our encounter. I wondered if he knew each of us enough to come up with the truth.

“Can I take my bike back or what?” I began walking forward, tossing the keys of the car he had lent me to him. “I didn’t pay a shit ton of money for it for nothing”

Aurelio played with the keys in his hands, making a jingling sound, and led me to my motorbike. As soon as I watched it, now in perfect state again, I caressed its surface.

“You better take care of it” He handed me my helmet, which I took with a smile.

“Don’t worry, I will” Holding on to the handlebars, I swung a leg over the seat and settled on it.

“Have fun” Aurelio tapped the bike, and smiled at me.

“See you around!” I grinned in response, winking at him.

That said, I put the helmet on started the engine. The familiar purr was exhilarating, as well as the feeling of riding again as I left the car shop behind.

I smiled like I hadn’t in a while, genuinely delighted at that moment. Even if the helmet kept me from feeling the wind in my air, I enjoyed the feeling of speeding up slightly.

The adrenaline that accompanied the rush was, for the first time, not related to violence, and it was a pleasant to experience it without the inevitable pain that usually followed.

There was barely any traffic at all. It was starting to get dark as the sun took its time meeting the line of the horizon. At that moment, the city was immersed in an unusual tranquility that calmed me.

And it all went to shit in just one second. It wouldn’t surprise me that they were following me, or that they wanted to wind me up in the worst possible moment. I would expect something like that from them.

A big car approached me, too close for comfort. The headlights blinded me, and before I knew, I was being hit. The car revved the engine and rammed against the side of my bike, sending me flying off it.

I landed with a painful thud, rolling across the road because of the momentum with which I was hit. I groaned in pain when I stopped, feeling the skin in my hands being scrapped. At least I wore the helmet, which I took off with trembling fingers.

Not daring to move as my body still complained with the force of the impact, I looked around the scene. The few pedestrians that roamed around the street had stopped to watch.

“It’s fine!” A much too familiar voice resonated in my head. “My bad”

I clenched my jaw when I saw a mop of greasy blond hair amongst the crowd. Delfino left his car and walk over to me. I wanted to get the furthest away from him as possible, but my muscles felt so sore that it seemed impossible to push myself up.

“You son of a-“ He closed the distance in two long strides and took me by the arm, pulling me to my feet so fast that I got a head rush.

“She’s alright” He stupidly told the people witnessing the scene. “No harm done”

When the curious by-standers began leaving, I didn’t know if I should have felt relieved or upset. Delfino smirked to himself as he dragged me with him, into a lonely alleyway.

Once we were away from any potential witnesses, he let go of me and I promptly dropped to the ground when my legs stopped supporting my weight. My already sensitive knees received the blow, making me wince.

“Won’t you assholes leave me the fuck alone?” I pressed my back against the wall behind me, leaning my hands on the ground to support myself. My knuckles graced against the wall, even if my fingers were moving to my belt.

“You know why I’m here, pay time” He towered over me, that goofy and idiotic smirk on his lips. Honestly, he wasn’t too bright; I sure hoped Gaige thought he was loyal.

“What a surprise” I muttered under my breath, enveloping the butt of the gun with my hands behind my back.

“Got anything to say for yourself?”

“Yeah, that you’re a moronic piece of shit”

I pulled out my handgun and pulled the trigger, landing a bullet on his upper arm and immediately scrambling to get up.

“Ugh, you bitch!” His impetuous nature surfaced when he kicked me across the face. I fell on my side, dropping the gun and holding my nose. Warm blood poured out of it and onto my fingers.

To top it all off, he kicked me once more, this time in my stomach. I folded over myself, feeling like he had knocked the wind out of me. Little dots appeared in my vision.

My breath came in a quick pace as he took me by the shirt and held me up, face to face. I held his defiant glare with a scowl.

“You’re gonna pay for my bike repair!” I tugged at his hand so he would let go of me. “I just picked it up from the shop!”

“So you can owe us more money?”

“That debt is not even mine!”

“Gaige is getting tired of your bullshit”

“It’s not like you’re gonna kill me, remember? Then you wouldn’t get your money”

“Maybe we will, use you as a warning for others”

I gulped, earning a satisfied smirk from him. I grunted when he pushed me against the ground once more, leaving me there to mull over that statement.

I made my way back to my motorbike in a daze until I found it lying in the middle of the road. After lifting it off the ground, I was relieved to assure that although damaged again, at least this time it was only a dent. I tried to be positive, thinking that this time they didn’t ruin the engine.

Driving like an automaton, I was back home before I could realize. I wanted nothing more than to eat some greasy fast food, watch TV and forget about everything. Just isolate myself from the world and do nothing, be lazy and unconcerned.

I thought the day couldn’t get any worse after all that. Until a knock came to my front door.

Tag list: @lea-kenneth, @lookinsidemyhead, @ciccithedreamer,@writerandee, @contanto-que-voce-me-queira, @recentcrib8422, @anita-e-taylor, @elena-mayfair, @fyspidey, @mell-bell, @yes-captainstark, @quentinbecksass, @buckysjuicyplums, @misfvit, @e-lysium, @alluna-naozumi, @alainabooks143, @superbateclipseclod, @angelenemies, @hopeinahotbox, @deaadenn, @spacepari, @piaeforever21, @thecraziestcrayon, @homeybadger // Let me know if you want to be added or taken off this tag list!

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Drabble No. 10

Summary: “John….” you gasped, reaching over to touch him softly as he sat himself up too, reaching over to tilt your chin up. “Who did this to you?” he said, his voice low. His eyes were dark, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Pairing: John Wick x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 720

Warnings: mentions of dead spouses, implied violence, injuries, a little fluff

Drabble Masterlist

You never thought you would find yourself alone. Here. In this hotel. 

John had told you about the Continental when he had explained your world to him. 

Because he wanted to be honest with you from the beginning, even though he was out. For good. 

He wanted to tell you, before you fell in love with him. 

He didn’t know you already had back then and that nothing he could tell you about him would change that.

Because you fell in love with John. The guy who mowed your lawn after your husband died. The guy who brought you flowers every week. Who had a library in his house that was bigger than yours. 

John and you had been neighbours for many years. You had known his late wife. You had been there when he had to build back his house after an explosion you only learned later was intentional and no accident at all. 

You were living with him in this new house now. Your house next door sold a year ago.

Everything was perfect. 

Until John disappeared three weeks ago.

The past seemed to have a way to suck him back.

He just went out to deliver some of the books he had finished binding to the post office and he hadn’t been back since then. 

You were sick with worry.

John kept the dangerous part of his past life to himself. But you knew Aurelio, the only person he was still in contact with.

So this is where you went after John disappeared. 

And Aurelio promised to make some calls and get back to you. 

But then he disappeared too. 

You called the police, you called everyone you could think of. 

And apparently you were getting close because last night after you packed the groceries into your car someone had threatened you, choking you until you almost couldn’t breathe to stop asking questions. That you would never find him. 

You knew there was only one place left to go. 

Nobody really spared you any glace as you walked through the entry hall of the hotel. You took a deep breath as you made your way towards the front desk, a tall man looking up at you with a pleasant smile. 

“Welcome to the Continental Hotel. How may I help you?” he asked and you gave him a small smile in return. 

“I am looking for someone. I don’t know if he’s here….”

“What is the name?”

“John Wick,” you said and the man's lips pressed into a thin line, looking at you for a long moment. 

“One moment,” he said and you nodded, nervously sucking your bottom lip in as the man turned away from you and walked into the back office. 

If he wouldn’t be here he would have….

“If you would follow me please,” you jumped, not having noticed the man had returned and followed him. 

–

The man, Charon, had led you into one of the suites of the hotel, telling you to wait here and that John was indeed in the hotel, but currently not available. 

You were relieved. 

Even though you knew he technically wasn’t allowed back to the hotel, you knew he was safe. 

You must have fallen asleep at some point, waking up to the room in darkness and a warm body next to yours. 

“John,” you whispered and he stirred. 

“Yeah. Yeah I’m here…” he mumbled and you sat yourself up, blindly searching for the lightswitch. 

Tears came to your eyes when you finally saw him, his whole face littered with cuts and bruises.

“John….” you gasped, reaching over to touch him softly as he sat himself up too, reaching over to tilt your chin up. 

“Who did this to you?” he said, his voice low. His eyes were dark, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Did… What?” you asked, tears running down your cheeks. 

”Who choked you?” he asked and you closed your eyes, shaking your head. 

“I… I don’t know. I was looking for you and someone found me and told me to stop asking questions… John… Where were you?” you asked, looking at him. 

He shook his head. 

“Not now,” he whispered and pulled his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. He just looked at you for a moment before he kissed you softly.

[thebunnednun]

The Fawn and the Wolf - John Wick X Assassin! Reader (Chapter 3)

Warning: Eventual smut, Violence, Size difference, predictor/prey, and other kinks. Age gap as well as Angst.

Summary:

"Who the hell wants to marry a man they've never met?" Certainly not you. After staging your own death to escape a forced marriage orchestrated by your ruthless family, they retaliate by sending the infamous John Wick after you. Now, you're fucked in more ways than one. Evading Baba Yaga himself is no easy feat, especially when he's sympathetic to your plight but bound by a marker to bring you back.Amidst the chaos, you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to John, his allure undeniable as you embark on a thrilling game of cat and mouse across the globe. As the stakes escalate and the danger intensifies, you're caught between loyalty and freedom, you face a daunting choice that could change your life forever. What are you going to do? Marry the man your family has picked for you? Or do you start over with the surprisingly kind killer you meet?

TW: Mentions of failed suicide attempt and bullying. Violence stuff.

Chapter Summary:

You decide to come home and surprise your family on the day you're to meet your "fiance" .... which was a total accident   .... while it's also the same day they call John to the house.

Oopsies!

-------------------Chapter 3: Let the game begin!------------------------

You were running. 

Running fast and hard through an endless field of wheat. Each golden stalk slapped against your bare legs as you pushed forward, the fabric of your white dress flapping wildly. The sun blazed overhead, its rays searing into your skin and making you squint against the brightness. Your lungs burned, and your heart pounded in your chest, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t know what you were running from, only that you had to get away.

The air is thick with the scent of wheat and earth, and every breath you take feels like inhaling fire. Your heart is a wild drumbeat in your chest, driving you forward. The field seems endless, the horizon a distant blur. You push yourself harder, the grass slashing at your bare legs, leaving stinging welts. You hear distant shouts, voices calling your name, urging you on.

“Keep running! Don’t stop!” It's Nick’s voice, firm and commanding.

“Faster, you can do it!” Joselyn’s encouragement cuts through the air, filled with a mix of fear and hope.

“Almost there, sweetheart!” David's voice is soft but urgent, like a whisper in the wind.

“Come on, you’re so close!” Amelia’s voice, usually so calm, now quivers with desperation.

You glance ahead and see them: Nick, Joselyn, David, and Amalia, all running too. They’re ahead of you, their figures moving swiftly through the golden sea. They reach a line that you can’t quite see, a threshold of safety. They turn back to you, their faces anxious, motioning frantically for you to keep going, to make it to them.

You wanted to reach them, to feel their protective embrace, but something felt off. You pump your legs harder, but something feels wrong. An instinct deep within you screams to stop. Against all your family’s pleas, you look back. The world slows as you turn, your eyes scanning the field behind you.

That’s when you saw it. 

There, in the midst of the wheat, is a massive grey wolf. It stands perfectly still, its dark fur stark against the golden field, its eyes locked onto you. It doesn’t move, doesn’t chase. It just watches, its gaze piercing and intelligent. You feel a strange pull, an understanding that it wasn’t going to hurt you. 

The large black wolf stood motionless behind you, its piercing eyes locked onto yours. It wasn’t chasing you; it was simply watching, studying. 

Ignoring your family’s frantic shouts, you stood very still, listening. The air was thick with tension, and you could feel multiple dangers closing in. The wolf didn’t move, but its presence was enough to make you tremble.

A shiver ran down your spine as you realized the real danger wasn’t behind you. 

It was all around you.

“Keep running!” your family urged, their voices blending into a desperate chorus. Your family’s voices grow more frantic, but you stand frozen, feeling the wolf’s eyes on you. Then you sense it—the malevolent presence, the true danger. It’s everywhere, surrounding you like an unseen predator. Panic floods your veins, and you hear your family urging you to run again.

“Run! Don’t stop!” Nick’s voice is almost drowned out by the roar of your own heartbeat.

You hesitated for a moment longer, then turned and ran again, but no matter how fast you moved, you didn’t get any closer to them. Panic welled up inside you, and you looked back, screaming and crying, just as the wolf sprang into action.

You force your legs to move, tearing your gaze from the wolf and sprinting toward your family. But no matter how hard you run, you don’t seem to get any closer. The distance between you and the safety line remains constant, an endless, unbridgeable gap. Tears blur your vision as frustration and fear build within you.

You look back, screaming, the sound torn from your throat in a raw, desperate cry. The wolf moves, a swift, dark blur, and it flings itself between you and the encroaching darkness. The malevolent energy recoils, but you feel its tendrils reaching for you.

With a powerful leap, the wolf hurled itself at the darker energies that had been closing in on you. Its teeth and claws flashed in the sunlight as it fought off the unseen threats, buying you precious moments. You turned back toward your family, now almost within reach.

You’re almost there, almost to safety. But then a chilling realization grips you. Your instincts scream “DANGER!” louder than ever. You skid to a halt, turning to face your family, who are no longer urging you to run. Their faces twist and warp, the familiarity melting away to reveal something sinister, something evil.

“Run!” they shout, but their voices are distorted, filled with malice.

You scream again, turning and running in the opposite direction. The ground seems to shift beneath your feet, the field closing in around you. The wolf leaps out of the wheat, landing gracefully between you and your family-turned-monsters. It growls, a deep, rumbling sound that resonates with protection.

The wolf’s eyes meet yours, and in that moment, you understand. It’s not your enemy. It’s trying to save you. You stop, your chest heaving, and the field seems to hold its breath. The dark energies surge forward, but the wolf stands firm, its presence a shield.

You take a step back, then another, your eyes never leaving the wolf. It turns its head slightly, as if urging you to run again, but this time in the right direction. You nod, feeling a strange mix of fear and trust, and you start running again, the wolf guarding your back.

The wheat parts before you, and the landscape changes. The sun dims, the air cools, and the malevolent presence fades. You keep running, feeling the ground solidify beneath your feet, the path ahead clearing.

With one final look back, you see the wolf standing tall, a sentinel against the darkness. Your family’s twisted forms are gone, swallowed by the golden waves. 

It’s all too much for you. 

You remember a trick your grandmother taught you. Closing your eyes three times, In an instant, the scene shifted. The wheat field dissolved around you, and you found yourself transported into another dream, the lingering echoes of your screams fading into a haunting silence. 

The nightmare begins to dissolve, the field of wheat fading into a foggy blur. The last thing you see is the wolf’s eyes, filled with an unspoken promise.

You wake up again with a jolt, the nightmare still clinging to you like a shroud. 

The cold iron frame of your bed bit into your back, and you looked around the room, seeing the rows of identical little beds lined up in a row. There were at least forty in the room, but all the other girls were missing except one. Michelle lay in the bed next to yours, her cross necklace gleaming faintly in the dim light.

Realizing you had overslept, you scrambled out of bed, your feet hitting the cold floor. You shook Michelle gently, trying to wake her. “Michelle, wake up! We’re late!”

Michelle stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “What’s going on?” she mumbled sleepily.

“We have to go, now!” you urged, pulling her up.

Michelle stirs, her eyes wide with fear as she realizes the situation. Together, you hurry to get out of bed, but it's too late. The headmistress, Cordelia, appears behind you. She is a tall and curvy woman with red eyes, very long black hair curled at the end with bangs, and lips painted red and black. Her eyes are a deep green in the center, lighter on the outer circle, with pitch-black pupils. She wears a tight formal black dress that emphasizes her imposing presence.

Cordelia’s hand clamps down on your shoulder, her grip like iron. “You’re late,” she hisses, dragging you away from Michelle. “You have a special appointment today.”

“No, please!” you cried, struggling against her hold.

You struggle, but her strength is overwhelming. She forces you into a room and into a wedding gown that’s far too big for you. You look like a little girl playing dress-up. The chains bite into your wrists as she secures you to a bedpost, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

“This is your mission,” Cordelia sneers. “You are to kill the son of another family by pretending to be the bride.”

You glare at her, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and anger. “What about Michelle?” you demand.

Cordelia’s laugh is cruel and mocking, a sound that sends chills down your spine and would haunt you years later. “Michelle is being sold because of your refusal on your previous mission and that stupid boy. He’ll get his too, but this my dear.” She kneeled and gripped the ends of your ill fitted dress before ruffling it. 

“This is your punishment.”

You had refused to kill a child present at the ceremony. You couldn’t, how could you? You and Amelia were children yourselves when it happened. They could force you to work, but not to give up your morals. 

Fury ignites within you, blazing a inferno of rage and desperation. You struggle against the chains, but they hold fast, biting into your skin. Cordelia’s laughter fills your ears, a horrible, grating sound that echoes through the room. You glance at the two-way mirror and see Michelle being dragged away, her eyes wide with terror. Cordelia’s lips stretch into a grotesque grin, the black lip stain almost appearing blood red.

Cordelia leans in close, her breath hot against your ear. “You’ll never escape.

You don’t mean to cry at this, but you do. The tears come, hot and heavy. The fat little pearls blur your vision as you try to make any noise, but your throat betrays you, filling with hot air instead. Like it always does when you’re confronted with emotion. A stabbing pain shoots from your heart through your soul, your body writhing on the floor in anguish.

Cordelia leaned in close, her breath hot on your face. “It’s all futile,” she whispered. “I’m happy to see your spirit finally breaking.”

“And soon, you will be too.”

Rage and desperation surge within you, fueling a sudden burst of strength. With a fierce determination, you lunge forward, slamming your face into Cordelia’s chest. Your teeth seek her hidden silver dagger. The shock in her eyes gives you the advantage you need. You bite down, hard . Feeling the hilt of the dagger, and with a final, desperate effort, you free it with your teeth. In one swift motion, you drive the dagger into her heart, your actions fueled by a primal instinct for survival.

Blood seeped through her dress as you pulled the dagger out and stabbed her again and again, aiming for her face, your eyes wild with fury. She stumbled back, screaming for help, but none of the other girls came. They listened from the safety of their rooms, frozen in fear.

Fueled by adrenaline, you wrenched your leg free from the cuff, your foot bleeding instantly. You broke the clasp binding you to the bedpost and went after Cordelia, the dagger clutched in your bloodied hand. Her screams of pain echoed through the room, but you didn't stop.

You ripped your left hand out of the handcuffs, the metal cutting deep into your wrist, and used your now-free hand to take the blade from your teeth and drive the dagger into her again and again. Blood splattered across your face and dress as you quickly stabbed her.

Cordelia staggered back, her shrill voice giving way to screams of agony. In the chaos of your attack, a porcelain vase was knocked over, shattering on the floor. Desperation flared in her eyes as she grabbed a large fragment and swung it at you, smashing it over your head.

Pain exploded in your skull, momentarily blinding you. The world spun, and you stumbled, blood streaming down your face from the sharp edges of the broken vase. The jagged edges had cut deep, but the adrenaline coursing through you dulled the pain, fueling your rage even more.

Cordelia saw her chance and tried to run again, but you pushed through the dizziness. The sight of her fleeing figure reignited the fury within you. With a primal scream, you launched yourself after her, the dagger still clutched in your bloodied hand.

Your vision quite literally tinged with red.

Fueled by adrenaline, you wrenched your other hand free from the cuff, your wrist bleeding profusely. You take the rest of the chains binding you to the bedpost over your body and go after Cordelia, the dagger clutched in your bloodied hand.

You wrenched your other hand free from the cuff, your wrist bleeding profusely. Taking the rest of the chains binding you from the bedpost over your body, you finally stand up despite everything in your body screaming for you not to, and go after Cordelia. Your knuckles turned white as you clutched the stained daggering your bloodied hand. The hallways blurred as you hunted her down, each step driven by a restless need for vengeance. 

The walls seemed to close in, the hall echoing with the sound of your pursuit. You could hear Cordelia's ragged breaths and see the frantic pattern of her blood splatters on the floor. Doors and faces flashed by as you closed the distance, your vision darkened to the singular focus of catching her.

You could hear her sharp stiletto heels running down the carpeted halls. The artwork and mirrors seem to watch as you pursue her, your heart pounding in your ears. You could hear the sound of instruments being knocked over. 

She was in the music room. 

You kick the door open, the force of your rage propelling you forward, your eyes blazing with determination. 

"Stop!" she shrieked, her eyes wide with fear. But you were beyond reason, beyond mercy.

Cordelia stumbles into the grand piano, trying to hide. With a flick of your wrist, you throw the dagger, and it sinks into her stomach. Cordelia's scream of terror cut through the air as you finally reached her. You lunged at her, tackling her to the ground, and the two of you crashed through the glass doors of the balcony, rolling and choking each other, the impact jarring but not enough to stop you. 

You rolled across the floor, grappling and choking each other, a desperate struggle for dominance. Cordelia managed to kick you in the stomach, sending you sprawling. Pain radiated from your abdomen, but before she could move to escape, you grabbed her long hair, yanking her back with such force that clumps of it came away in your hand. The hair ripped from her scalp, and you used it to choke her.

She shrieked in pain, her hands clawing at yours, but you didn’t relent. Her struggles only fueled your determination, every fiber of your being focused on ending her tyranny. As she gasped for air, her eyes wild with terror, you found your strength and hauled her towards the balcony's edge.

With a savage effort, you held her over the railing, her body dangling precariously above the drop. Her screams echoed in the cold afternoon air, mixing with the distant sounds of the estate. Below, the garden seemed to stretch endlessly, a bright abyss waiting to swallow her whole.

Cordelia’s hands clutched desperately at your wrists, her nails digging into your skin, but you didn’t flinch. You had to be strong or she would tug you down. Her weight pulled on your muscles, but the adrenaline coursing through you made you strong. You looked into her eyes, seeing the anger and desperation there, and felt a grim realization. 

If she wanted to speak, your eyes silenced her. Only choked gasps escaped her blood filled mouth. You held her there for a moment longer, letting her feel the terror she had inflicted on so many others while taking in her face. 

“This is for my sister, you bitch.” You choked out, and with a final push, you released her.

Cordelia made no effort to scream as she fell, her body twisting and flailing in the air. You watched, unflinching, as she plummeted, her figure growing smaller until it disappeared into the flowers below. The sound of her impact echoed faintly, a distant thud that seemed to signal the end of an era.

“[Name]!”

You turn your head to the right. From the balcony of the next room, you could see Michelle evading the man sent to collect her, swinging a bottle of alcohol at him. Quickly, you seized a nearby cupid statue, its cherubic face staring blankly. With all your remaining adrenaline, you hurl it at the man. The statue flies through the air, striking him squarely on the head. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless, the force of the blow instantly killed him.

Michelle backed away from the now dead man, her eyes wide with shock and horror. Her chest heaved with rapid breaths, and for a moment, she stood frozen, staring at the lifeless body sprawled on the floor. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, she looked up at you, her eyes filled with urgency and concern.

She rushed to the edge of the balcony, her footsteps echoing in the tense silence. Leaning over the railing, Michelle peered down at Cordelia's broken body, her expression unreadable. 

With a blank stare, she raised the bottle of alcohol in her hand, her grip tightening around its neck. In one swift motion, she hurled the bottle down at Cordelia. It shattered on impact, shards of glass and liquor raining down on Cordelia's prone form. Cordelia moans in pain, still alive.

The two of you shared a look before you turned back to the sight below. 

Seeing that she is still alive, you leap over the balcony’s edge, chains and wedding dress trailing behind you like a ghostly specter. You land heavily on Cordelia, knocking the breath out of her. The liquid soaked into her wounds, mixing with the blood and causing her to moan in pain. 

She opens her verdant and lime eyes again and they lock onto yours, filled with a twisted sort of satisfaction. Despite her injuries, she laughs softly, a gurgling sound as blood bubbles out of her lips. 

“I always knew you’d be the one to kill me,” Cordelia wheezed. “I was hoping you would be the one to kill me,” she whispers, blood dripping out of her corners of her mouth to pool in her hair. 

You feel disgust rise within you. “You’re nothing more than a demon in a vessel. And I kill demons.

Cordelia’s eyes flicker with a twisted sort of pride. “Sing to me,” she croaks, “Before I go to sleep.”

You remain silent in defiance, refusing her final request. Leaning close, you rip the dagger from her stomach before pointing the cold silver at her heart. With a quick motion, the blade pierces through her body. Cordelia gasps, choking as blood pours from her chest, her eyes widening in shock and pain.

She realizes she’s never coming back. 

“May Jesus keep you.”

You drove the dagger deeper into her heart, breaking through bone until it emerged on the other side and you could hear a faint pop and squish on the grass from underneath her. 

Cordelia’s eyes lost their focus, and she went still. You stood up again and looked at the now dead daemoness. 

All that was left now was an empty shell. 

Breathing heavily, you tried to keep your balance, your body shaking from the exertion and the rush of adrenaline. Blood dripped from your face and hands, mixing with the tears that had fallen earlier. The once grand garden now looked like a battlefield, the aftermath of a storm of violence and vengeance.

You turn your face towards the sun and feel a strange mix of triumph and sorrow wash over you. 

You weren’t done here. 

Michelle watched from above as you pulled a match from your hair, striking it against the only white rose left. You lit Cordelia’s body on fire, watching the flames consume her. The other girls in the estate peeking out of windows, witnessing the end of their tormentor.

Next, you began digging up the garden in your dirty, bloodied wedding gown, with your bare hands. Your muscles were burning and screaming at you but you didn’t listen. You would leave no trace of this woman. Not a damn thing. 

Determination fueled your every movement as you overturned the earth, casting aside ruined roses and pulling them from beneath layers of soil. Once the garden was upturned, the other girls threw bedding from their windows, to help in silence. Together, you stretched out the linens, creating a makeshift shroud over the disturbed ground. You then pile all of the glass and ruined roses on top of it. 

Afterwards you strip off the chains, feeling the weight lift from your body. Something else had partially lifted itself off you when this happened. It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted from your soul. Shaking with a mix of emotions, you removed the bloodied wedding dress next before turning back to the body at hand. 

You wrapped Cordelia’s remains in the wedding dress, using it as a barrier between you and the old witch, making sure you would never touch her again. With careful reverence, you laid the bundled form atop the mound of earth and roses.

Using the chains that once confined you, you secure the bundle and light it ablaze once more, ensuring nothing remains but memories.

When the fire had reduced everything to ashes and iron remnants, you dragged the charred remains to the nearby lake. Standing at the edge of the pier, you watched silently as you dumped the bundle into the cold, icy depths below. The water swallowed them without a trace, carrying away the last vestiges of Cordelia and her malevolence, leaving you finally free.

Freedom

When you returned to the estate, Michelle stood waiting anxiously with the other girls, their figures silhouetted against the flickering light of torches. As you approached, their faces turned towards you, a mixture of hope and fear etched across their features. Michelle broke from the group, rushing towards you with tears in her eyes, and enveloped you in a tight, trembling hug.

“Is it done?” Michelle asked, her voice trembling.

"Yes."

Michelle held onto you tighter, her breath hitching in a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief. You gently place your arms around her, not wanting to dirty her in the exchange. But that didn't matter.

The other girls surrounded you both, their expressions ranging from tearful joy to stunned silence. Some cheered softly, their voices carrying echoes of liberation, while others simply wept, releasing years of pent-up anguish. They formed a circle around you, drawing you into their embrace, sharing in the profound moment of freedom.

As the emotions swirled around you, you felt exhaustion creeping in. The adrenaline of the ordeal began to ebb, replaced by a bone-deep weariness.

You twitched in your sleep, the cold wash of relief enveloped you. The nightmare was over, and the witch was dead.

At least when you opened your eyes. 

The transition was seamless, as if she was gently pulled from one reality into another. Now, she found herself seated atop the Eiffel Tower, a steaming cup of hot chocolate cradled in her hands.

The world around her was a serene blend of times and lights: Sunrise met sunset, daylight mingled with twilight, stars twinkled alongside the moon, creating a tapestry of mesmerizing beauty.

She took a slow sip of her hot chocolate, the warmth spreading through her chilled fingers. The air carried the familiar scent of coffee, and she closed her eyes briefly, letting the peaceful ambiance wash over her. It was a moment of solace she rarely allowed herself, a tranquil respite from the chaos of her waking life.

As she savored the quietude, her gaze wandered across the panoramic view of Paris spread out below. The city lights flickered like distant stars, casting a soft glow over the landscape. It was a sight she had often admired in her travels, yet here, atop this iconic landmark, it held a surreal quality.

A subtle movement caught her attention—an empty seat at the small bistro table opposite her own. She frowned slightly, puzzled by its sudden appearance. She leaned forward, peering into the emptiness, trying to make sense of this unexpected addition to her solitary reverie.

Then, as if materializing from the mist of her thoughts, John appeared in the seat across from her. Dressed impeccably in a dark blue three-piece suit with a crisp white tie, he exuded an air of calm confidence. His smile was warm and inviting, his gaze filled with a mixture of familiarity and kindness.

Startled yet intrigued, she blinked, unsure if she was still dreaming. She studied him intently, noting the way his hair caught the ambient light, the slight crease of amusement around his eyes. It felt too real to be a mere dream, yet too surreal to be anything else.

John lifted a steaming cup of coffee to his lips, taking a leisurely sip as he watched her with gentle amusement. The sight of him there, in this timeless moment suspended between day and night, stirred something deep within her—a longing for companionship, for someone to share these fleeting moments of peace.

She blushed for a moment, realizing she was wearing a black and white striped ensemble. The setting, the attire—it all seemed too similar to a date. But this felt different. 

It wasn’t a date arranged by Nick, David, or Hasin, where she played the role of their little sister. Nor was it a girls' outing for fun and shopping. This wasn’t one of her covert missions where she’d say, “I know a place,” kill the guy, and disappear into the night.

No, this felt real. It felt... personal. And despite the significant age difference, she couldn’t deny that part of the appeal was his maturity, his calm presence that seemed to ground her in a way no one else did.

Unsure of what to say, she remained silent, absorbing the surreal encounter. The dreamlike quality of their surroundings enveloped them like a cocoon, shielding them from the outside world. It was as if they existed in a realm untouched by time, where their connection could flourish without the weight of their respective realities.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice when John spoke at first. His voice was a soft murmur, barely audible over the gentle breeze that rustled through the tower's structure.

Catching his lip movements, she suddenly realized John was speaking. She hadn’t heard a word he said. Flushing again, she stammered, “Pardon?” her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at being caught off guard.

John chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I was just saying," he began, his tone warm and teasing, "that we both seem to have a fondness for sweets." Reaching out, he gently wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb, removing a trace of chocolate.

Her ears burned with embarrassment, and she watched, entranced, as he licked his thumb clean.

She managed a small smile, feeling a rush of warmth despite the chill in the air. His thumb lingered on her cheek for a moment longer, his touch gentle and reassuring. She couldn't help but notice the contrast between his large, comforting hand and her own smaller, shaky one.

Noticing her hand trembled slightly, he reached for it, enveloping her smaller fingers in his larger, comforting grasp. His touch sent a wave of calm through her, soothing the lingering uncertainty that clouded her thoughts.

His thumb traced delicate circles over her knuckles, the simple gesture sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of warmth and excitement she hadn’t felt in a long time. She looked down at their intertwined hands, feeling the strength and comfort in his touch, before meeting his gaze again.

Their hands remained intertwined on the table, the space between them filled with unspoken words and uncharted emotions. A slice of pie appeared beside the cups, a sweet temptation that added to the surrealism of the moment. She glanced from the pie back to John, who offered her a warm smile before leaning closer, their foreheads gently touching.

His warm smile made her heart flutter, and he leaned closer, their foreheads almost touching. Her heart raced at the intimacy of the gesture, the closeness of their proximity sending a thrill through her. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath, relishing the fleeting peace of this dream-like encounter. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, and she snapped her eyes open, meeting his intense gaze.

His eyes were so tender and reassuring.

She leaned into his touch, her eyes searching his face for answers, for understanding. His presence held a depth she had rarely encountered, a quiet strength that spoke of shared experiences and unspoken truths.

Her heart pounded in her chest, the scent of his cologne enveloped her, mingling with the sweet aroma of the hot chocolate. She leaned into his palm, feeling the world around them fade into insignificance.

Everything felt right, perfect even, in this suspended moment of time.

But just as she felt herself surrendering to the tranquility, a glint caught her eye—a wedding ring, glimmering on John's finger. Her eyes widened, and she froze. The wedding ring on his hand shimmered in the shifting light, a harsh reminder of a reality she couldn't escape.

Reality shattered the illusion, jolting her awake from the comforting embrace of the dream.

Light began to seep into the edges of the dream, pulling her away from the serenity of the moment. The warmth faded, replaced by a cold clarity that brought her back to consciousness.

With a jolt, she consciously woke, the echoes of warmth and the faint scent of coffee lingering in her senses, leaving her with a bittersweet ache and unanswered questions about the complexities of her emotions and the enigmatic presence of John in her dreams.

-

Your eyes snapped open, the remnants of the dream still vivid in your mind. You lay there, breathing heavily, feeling the weight of disappointment settling in. The warmth of the dream lingered, juxtaposed with the cold reality of your solitary existence.

But amidst the ache of waking from such a fleeting happiness, you couldn't shake the sense of warmth and comfort that John's presence had left behind. It was a reminder of what you craved deep down, your darkest secret.

As you lay there, the echo of John's whispered words lingered in your ears, a bittersweet melody of what could never be.

“AARAH!”

Michelle was throwing up in the plane's restroom, the retching sound audible even through the thin door.

You sighed, thinking to yourself, "Morning sickness," and got up, noticing she had placed your jacket back on you while you slept.

Stretching your legs and wiggling your feet, you worked on your arms and cracked your neck. Today would be another long day, but waking up with Michelle unharmed was a blessing you didn't take lightly.

After saying your morning prayers, you strolled over to the bathroom door and knocked gently. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah!" Michelle's voice was strained, but she managed to sound welcoming.

You opened the door to see her hunched over the sink, her hands gripping the edges tightly. Her face was pale, beads of sweat dotting her forehead as she tried to keep down the remnants of last night's dinner. "Sorry, maybe we should've gone to Paris instead or something," you said, your voice filled with concern.

She spit up again, then looked at you through the mirror with a weak smile. "And you get found out by the High Table? No, I don't think so." She chuckled softly, but the sound was strained, and you noticed the hand towel she had placed between her belly and the sink counter for support.

Kicking off your shoes quickly, you hopped onto the counter to sit, holding her hair back from her face so she could puke in peace. The tight space of the plane's restroom made it difficult, but you managed, offering her a comforting presence. "How are you feeling now?" you asked, your voice gentle as you rubbed her back.

"Like I got run over by a truck," Michelle replied, her voice muffled as she leaned over the sink again. "But I'll live." She took a deep breath and rinsed her mouth, then turned to lean against the counter, her face pale but composed. "Thanks for this," she said, gesturing to you holding her hair.

"Anytime," you replied with a soft smile. "We're in this together."

She nodded, her eyes reflecting both gratitude and exhaustion. "I just hate feeling so weak. Especially now."

"You’re not weak, Michelle. You’re strong. Look at everything you’ve been through, everything you’re doing. Morning sickness is just a temporary setback."

Michelle sighed, her shoulders relaxing a bit. "I know. It's just... hard sometimes."

You nodded in understanding. "I get it. But we’ll get through it. One step at a time."

Michelle managed a small, tired smile. "Thanks. I needed to hear that."

You continued to hold her hair, offering silent support as she leaned back over the sink. The plane's steady hum was a constant backdrop to your whispered words of encouragement. You could feel the tension easing slightly from her body as you both took a moment to just breathe, finding a haven in each other's presence amidst the turbulence of your lives.

Once Michelle seemed a bit more stable, you helped her straighten up, offering her a glass of water to rinse her mouth. She took it gratefully, her hands trembling slightly. You watched her closely, ensuring she was okay before hopping down from the counter and slipping your shoes back on.

"Let's get you back to your seat," you said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders for support. "You need to rest."

Michelle nodded, leaning on you as you guided her out of the cramped restroom and back to her seat. As she settled down, you tucked a blanket around her, making sure she was comfortable before taking your own seat beside her.

The hum of the plane and the soft murmurs of the other passengers provided a calming background as you watched Michelle steady herself. You sighed, feeling the weight of the past few days pressing down on you, but determined to stay strong.

The white clouds passed by, and you allowed yourself a moment of respite, closing your eyes and letting the rhythmic sound of the engines lull you into a light daze. Your thoughts drifted to the dream you had before waking up, the serene yet surreal experience of sitting atop the Eiffel Tower. 

The memory of the dream was vivid in your mind, the mixture of twilight, sunrise, and starlight creating a unique and otherworldly atmosphere. You remembered the warmth of the hot chocolate in your hands and the unexpected appearance of John, his presence as comforting as it was surprising.

You shook your head slightly, dispelling the lingering dreamlike haze, and refocused on the present. Michelle stirred beside you. She stretched slightly, wincing from the discomfort, and then turned to you with a concerned look. "How did you sleep?"

You hesitated, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. "Fine," you said nonchalantly, avoiding her gaze.

Michelle gave you a pointed look, one eyebrow raised. "Really?"

You sighed, realizing you couldn't dodge her intuition. "Alright, alright. I had nightmares again."

Michelle’s eyes softened with concern. "Do you want to talk about them?"

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "It’s just the usual stuff. Running, danger, the wolf... And then there was this dream with John."

"John?" Michelle asked, curiosity piqued. "Who's John?"

You took a deep breath, knowing you had to explain. "John Wick. He's... well, he's kind of a legend. The Boogeyman’s killer. I ran into him at the club last night." You played with your nails, avoiding eye contact.

Michelle's eyes widened. "The John Wick? And you dreamt about him?"

You nodded, pulling the marker from your pocket. "Yeah. He’s got this marker. I lifted it off him during the chase."

Michelle's eyes flicked to the marker in your hand. "You were holding that in your sleep," she said softly. "And talking again."

You tried to joke, "Oh, in addition to the usual crying?"

Michelle placed a gentle hand on your arm and then pulled you into her lap. You whined, feeling awkward. "I'm too big for this, Michelle!"

Michelle’s voice was firm but filled with love. "You were my baby first. As long as I'm alive and breathing, I will always comfort you."

You relented, allowing her to hold you. Your arms wrapped around each other, and you rested your cheek against Michelle’s collarbone. The familiarity and warmth of her embrace soothed your frayed nerves.

Your eyes drifted to the cross hanging around her neck, a cherished gift from her father before he abandoned her at Cordelia’s. The sight of it brought back harsh memories of your own mother’s cross, the one she wore before she died. The memory stung, a bitter pain that you had learned to push down deep inside.

Michelle’s fingers traced patterns on your back as she held you close. The comfort she extended to you was a stark contrast to the harshness of your upbringing, and it mirrored the loving kindness your mother once showed. Though they were complete opposites in many ways, both Michelle and your mother had given you the strength to endure and survive.

You took a deep breath, pushing the painful memory back down. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Michelle kissed the top of your head. "Family doesn’t say, ‘Thank you.’"

____

John adjusted the rearview mirror of the sleek Ford Mustang as he glanced at the Bowery King sitting beside him. The King's presence was a contrast to his usual solitary drives, but John found it oddly comforting. They were on their way to the Morales estate, the tension palpable as they discussed their findings.

"There's something off about the Morales family," John began, his voice steady yet laced with suspicion. "This whole situation is just weird."

The Bowery King nodded, his fingers drumming on the armrest. "I've been trying to get some information about that lady’s house she burned down. None of the girls would talk. One even tried to stab me!" The King chuckled like it was a sweet gesture. 

John raised an eyebrow. “Tried to stab you?”

The King shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “Can’t blame her. Those girls have been through hell. But it tells me something about their loyalty. Or fear.”

John's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "She’s clever, resourceful. A little too good at slipping away." 

The King chuckled. "And a hell of a dancer from what you said back in Japan. What’s your take on the family? They’ve got some serious connections."

"Nick Morales is the head, but The Fawn... she’s the wildcard. You said she’s been burning down these places, but I don’t think it’s about evidence. I think she’s trying to send them a message.” 

“She’s valuable.”

“Too valuable for them to let go."

They drove in silence for a few moments, the hum of the engine filling the car. As they approached a gas station, the Bowery King suggested a pit stop. "Let's grab some snacks. I’m starving."

John nodded, pulling into the gas station and stopping by a pump. He started to fill the car with gas while the King got out, stretching his legs before heading inside. 

Meanwhile, at the other end of the gas station, you and Michelle had just pulled up in your armored station wagon. You adjusted your disguise in the mirror before glancing at Michelle, who was looking pale and uncomfortable.

"Morning sickness again?" you asked, concern in your voice.

Michelle nodded, her hand clutching her stomach. "Yeah, I need to use the restroom."

"Go ahead, I'll get some stomach medicine and a few other things."

Michelle rushed into the gas station, her bulletproof clothing making her movements look slightly awkward but ensuring her safety. You walked inside as well, heading towards the medicine aisle. You picked up some stomach medicine and then made your way to the counter, where you also grabbed a few lottery tickets.

As you paid in cash, the Bowery King approached, eyeing the lottery tickets with a smile. 

"Feeling lucky today?"

You smiled back, your eyes glinting with determination. "I do, actually."

Just then, Michelle emerged from the restroom, looking slightly better. She grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and joined you at the counter.

Outside, John finished filling the car with gas. He noticed Michelle’s walk as she exited the gas station. There was something familiar about it, but he couldn’t place it. His eyes then moved to you, noting the way you and the Bowery King exchanged a few words and a nod before heading to your separate vehicles.

As the Bowery King returned to the car, he handed John an iced tea. "Here you go. Met someone interesting in there."

John took the iced tea, his curiosity piqued. "Who were you talking to?"

The King leaned back in his seat, a thoughtful look on his face. "Just a young woman. Seemed like a sweetheart. Reminds me of someone, but I can’t quite put my finger on it."

John watched as you and Michelle got into your station wagon. His mind raced with possibilities, a sense of familiarity gnawing at him. "Let's keep an eye on them," he said quietly, more to himself than to the King.

As you drove away, you glanced in the rearview mirror, feeling a shiver of awareness. You knew the road ahead was fraught with danger, but you were prepared. You had to be, for Michelle’s sake and your own. The encounter had been brief, but it left an impression, a reminder that in this world, you could never be too careful.

The Bowery King noticed John’s lingering gaze. "You think that was her?"

John didn’t answer immediately, his mind replaying the brief interaction. "I don’t know. But if it was, we’re in for a hell of a chase."

The King nodded, his expression serious. "Then let’s make sure we’re ready for whatever comes next."

As the Mustang pulled out of the gas station and back onto the road, John felt a renewed sense of determination. The game was far from over, and he intended to see it through to the end.

As the gray fog cast its pale glow over the dense canopy of trees, you maneuvered your armored station wagon through the winding, concealed paths of the woods. The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the way to the hidden entrance of the underground bunker. Michelle sat beside you, alert and ready, clad in her bulletproof tweed suit, her eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced vigilance.

Arriving at the bunker's concealed entrance, they exited the car and walked through a concealed tunnel that wound deeper into the earth. The cool, damp air enveloped them as they emerged into the dimly lit garage, the familiar sight of their escape route in front of them. It was here they had planned and executed their escape from the Morales estate months ago.

David was waiting for them, his figure partially obscured in the shadows. As they approached, Michelle gasped audibly, her hand instinctively reaching to her mouth. 

“What! What happened?!”

You ran up to her before dropping your keys at the sight before you. 

A deep, jagged scar ran from his hairline, just above his left eyebrow, through the skin of his eye, down to his collarbone. The flesh around it was still raw, the wound recent and stark against his otherwise youthful appearance. 

The goofy young man that could soften you with one smile was gone now. 

You rushed forward, embracing David tightly, your hands trembling slightly as they ran over the rough terrain of the deep cut that marred his features, unable to resist the urge to touch, to reassure yourself that he was indeed here, alive and standing before you. Your fingers traced the raised edges of the scar, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath.

The scar told a story of a price paid, etched into his skin. 

Forever.

"Nick found out..." David's whisper was strained, the weight of the revelation palpable in the air. His eyes, usually filled with a calm resolve, now held a hint of urgency and concern.

Your eyes widened, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Quickly looking around, you ushered David and Michelle into your Lamborghini, the sleek, armored vehicle now a haven amidst the probably bugged garage. Locking the doors behind them, you turned to David, your voice firm and urgent. 

"Spill. What happened?"

David took a deep breath, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of weariness and determination. 

“I threw the guy Nick hired to find you a dummy tracker for you to throw off suspicions. Nick was on to me from the start. After I kissed you goodnight, he forced me to change the security codes.” He closed his eyes and tried to still his breathing as Michelle rubbed his shoulder. 

“But you left your earbuds in the bathroom.”

“He went into my room?!”

“That’s literally not important right now!”

“Focus!”

“Sorry, Michelle,” You cleared your throat and gestured for David to continue. 

“So when Nick found your note he was extra confused. I didn’t know you left one so I couldn’t snatch it before he found out.” David was fidgeting with his fingers now. “I tried to play it cool while you were out. I figured as long as I had erased the tapes and blamed it on a glitch in the system that you would be fine.” 

His voice is shaky now and there’s sweat beading on his forehead that Michelle offers him a hanky for. “Thanks Mich,” He wipes the area around his new scar gingerly. 

"Nick's onto us. He tightened security, doubled the patrols. They're expecting trouble, especially after what went down in New York."

Michelle's brow furrowed, a sense of foreboding settling over her features. "How much does he know?" she asked, her voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

David shook his head slowly. "Enough to be dangerous. He's been digging into everything—our movements, our contacts. He's closing in, and fast."

“Shit.”

Your mind raced, thoughts colliding like thunder in a storm. "We need a plan," you said, your voice steady despite the rising tide of panic. "We can't stay here. Not anymore."

David nodded in agreement, his expression tense yet resolute. "I've been scouting a safe house, not far from here. It's isolated, off the grid. We can lay low there until we figure out our next move."

You held onto Michelle’s hand, but you couldn’t take your eyes off David. 

The scar on his face cracked something within you. You wanted to cry the more you looked at it. It was a mark of his loyalty, his commitment to making sure you were safe.

That you would have a chance to live.

As you listened to his story unfold, your thoughts drifted to the countless times you had relied on him, trusted him with your life, and now, with this new scar, it was a shitty reminder of the dangers that surrounded you all.

In a fucked up way, it was also a confirmation of how much he loves you. 

In the dim light of the garage, with the faint scent of oil and metal lingering in the air, Michelle's gaze flickered between you both, her soft features shifted into a cold expression. "We go after we confront Nick," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“Agreed.”

“Let’s start a plan.”

—-- (Backstory. You might wanna take a break. It’s a long chapter. Okay, love you!!~)

“ NO! ”

The opulent dining room of the Morales estate quaked with the fury unleashed within its walls. Crystal chandeliers cast fractured patterns across the polished marble floors, their light reflecting the flickering candles that adorned the ornate table. The staff had long abandoned the dining room in search of their own shelter from your wrath. 

At one end stood you, your eyes blazing with unbridled defiance, while Nick Morales, the patriarch of the family, sat rigidly at the head, his typically composed demeanor strained to the breaking point.

"I WON'T DO IT!"  

Your voice sliced through the air like a sharpened blade, sending a shiver through the staff who lurked in the kitchen. Plates shattered on the table as you hurled your protest, the force of your words causing the room to tremble.

Levin and Malachi, the youngest Morales sons, darted out of the room in a blur of motion, fleeing the escalating storm. Amelia, their mother, chased after them, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she unleashed a torrent of rebuke in your direction. Aaron, her husband, bursts through the doors just in time to dodge a flying dish aimed at his back, his face a mask of annoyance and frustration.

Amelia rolled her eyes as she directed Michelle to take her boys away, her voice edged with exasperation. Joselyn and David, seated on your right side of the table, pleaded with you to calm down, their voices strained with worry. Hasin, Joselyn’s husband, interjected urgently, his attempts to diffuse the situation falling on deaf ears.

"Muñeca, please put down the plate!" Hasin's voice was lost amidst the chaos, drowned out by the mounting fury.

With a deafening crash, another dish shattered against the wall, shards scattering like shrapnel across the room. The impact reverberated through the estate, a stark punctuation to the escalating confrontation. In the deafening silence that followed, you spoke again, your voice chillingly calm amidst the chaos. 

"Let go of me."

Nick's gaze bore into yours with steely resolve. "I'm not ASKING you, I'm TELLING you!" His voice thundered, the authority in his tone shaking the very foundations of the Morales household.

A sharp slap echoed throughout the mansion like a gunshot, the sound reverberating off the walls. 

The room fell into an eerie stillness, the tension thick as molasses. The candles flickered, casting dancing shadows that mirrored the turmoil within. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the next explosive moment in this battle of wills.

The whole of the Morales estate fell into a tense hush as the staff pressed their ears against the heavy wooden doors. The dinner plates lay shattered on the table, utensils found residence in the walls, remnants of the storm that had just swept through. Voices echoed from within, sharp and biting.

"You can't escape your duties! " Nick's voice boomed, the authority in his tone palpable.

"WATCH ME!" Your defiant yell reverberated through the hall, cutting through the thick silence that followed. Without a backward glance, you stormed out of the dining room, a whirlwind of frustration and determination.

Running footsteps pursued you as you charged through the corridors of the mansion. Servants and family members alike scattered to clear your path, eyes wide with apprehension.

The chaos followed you like a shadow, but you were focused on one destination—the sanctuary of your office. Climbing the grand staircase, your steps echoed loudly in the empty halls. David's voice called after you, pleading, "[Name], wait!"

Ignoring his pleas, you reached your office door and fumbled with your key, unlocking it with a sense of urgency. Pushing inside, you slammed the door shut behind you, shutting out the noise and commotion.

The room enveloped you in a comforting familiarity. Soft light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the space. In the corner of the room, a locked closet held a shrine adorned with candles, a tribute to your parents and friends lost.

You lit two new candles with trembling hands and sank to your knees before the shrine, head bowed in silent prayer. Tears streamed down your cheeks, emotions cascading in waves as you wrestled with the weight of expectations and duty.

David entered quietly, holding a lit candle of his own. Setting it on your coffee table, he knelt beside you, a silent presence in the solemnity of your prayers. 

“Oh Sunshine.”

As you sobbed, David's arms encircled you gently, drawing you into a comforting embrace. You leaned into him, finding a brief moment of peace in his arms.

When you finally looked up, David met your gaze with concern, using his sleeves to wipe away your tears. A faint smile tugged at your lips when he joked about using his tie to blow your nose, momentarily lightening the heaviness in the air.

" Ew !" you managed to giggle before the weight of your emotions pressed down again, and tears welled up once more. David sighed softly, holding you tighter in reassurance.

Minutes passed in silence, the only sound was the soft crackle of the candles. Eventually, you shifted in his arms, a signal that words needed to be said.

"I'm sorry," David murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he tried to meet your eyes.

You looked away, thoughts racing with uncertainty about the future. After a long pause, you finally spoke, your voice steady but distant. 

"I'm sorry too."

Pushing down your feelings, you composed your expression to a neutral mask. "Go to your room. You didn't see me," you instructed, your tone final.

David struggled to find words, his own emotions caught in his throat. With a solemn nod, he turned and quietly left your office, leaving you alone with your thoughts and prayers.

—

Later that night, as the rest of the household slept, you moved silently through the dimly lit corridors of the mansion. The weight of your impending departure pressed heavily on your shoulders. Each step felt like an echo of your frantic heartbeat, a rhythm of heartbreak and determination.

Slipping into the room where Levin and Malachi slept, you were greeted by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the large window. The boys' room was a cozy play place, filled with soft toys and colorful blankets. The walls were painted a soothing sky blue, adorned with star and moon decals that glowed faintly in the darkness. Shelves lined with books and toys framed the room, a testament to their curious minds and playful spirits.

Levin and Malachi lay peacefully in their beds, their small forms barely stirring. With tender care, you kissed their foreheads, your lips lingering as if trying to imprint your love on their skin. The soft fabric of their superhero and Pokemon-themed pajamas brushed against your cheeks as you leaned over them.

Stirring awake, they blinked up at you with sleepy eyes. "Where are you going, Tia?" Malachi asked, his voice tinged with the innocent curiosity of a child.

You smiled gently, though the corners of your mouth trembled. "I have to go do something, baby bear."

"Another work trip?" Levin mumbled, rubbing his eyes and clutching a worn-out teddy bear close to his chest.

"Not exactly," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "Come sit in my lap."

The boys scrambled from their beds and nestled into your lap, their warmth a comfort against the chill of the night. You held them close, the scent of their baby shampoo and the softness of their skin a bittersweet reminder of all you were leaving behind.

"I want to tell you something really important," you began, looking down at them with all the love you could muster. "Where's your ears? Can you show me your ears?"

Giggling quietly, they placed their hands over their ears, their eyes wide with curiosity. You lifted them to eye level, the moonlight casting a soft glow over their faces.

"I want you both to know I'm going to be gone a long time," you said, your voice breaking slightly. Malachi, the oldest at nearly seven, looked up at you with a mix of shock and confusion. 

"Where are you going, Tia?" he asked, placing a small hand over your heart.

Levin, just four years old, was equally confused. He placed his little hand on your face, his touch light and innocent. "Tia has to go somewhere for a while. But I need you guys to hear me," you said, holding their gaze with all the intensity of your love. "No matter what happens, I love you both. I love you with all my heart and soul, and I will come back for you."

Tears welled up in their eyes, the confusion giving way to sadness. "But why?" they asked in unison, their voices trembling.

You sighed, the weight of the explanation heavy on your tongue. "I have to go so I can be a lawyer. But I can't come back until I can take care of you both."

Malachi nodded, almost understanding immediately. Levin whimpered, and you hugged them both tightly, your heart breaking at their innocent confusion. "We love you too, Tia," Malachi whispered, his small voice filled with earnest emotion. "I don't want you to go," Levin cried softly, and soon, the three of you were crying together, your back pressed against the carved wooden bed frame.

The intricate design of the bed frame bit into your skin, but you didn't care. All that mattered was holding them, feeling their warmth, and assuring them of your love one last time. Eventually, the tears subsided, and you gave them each a bracelet you had made, adorned with a small cross charm.

"I will always be with you, even when you can't see me," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

You tucked them into Malachi's bed, kissing their foreheads and lying beside them until they fell asleep. Levin drifted off first, his small body relaxing into slumber. Malachi turned to face you, his eyes finding yours in the moonlight.

He placed his hand on your cheek, poking you gently. You made a silly face for him, and he giggled, a sound that tugged at your heart. "Sometimes, I think of you like a mom," he said softly.

You felt a lump in your throat, tears threatening to spill once more. "I would have been honored to be your mother, baby bear," you whispered, kissing his little fingers. Tugging him back into bed, you watched as he finally fell asleep.

You didn't move until 4 AM, slipping quietly down to the garage. Your heart twisted painfully, another part of your soul squeezed tight, as you prepared to leave the only family you had ever truly known.

—-- Before all of that

You couldn't sleep that night.

It felt like you were going crazy, like a caged animal on death row. Your blood ran hot and cold, every heartbeat a drum against your ribs as you gave yourself over to fits of crying and smashing things. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your eyes stinging from endless tears, and your lungs felt like they were on fire. Your skin was molten lava, and you almost tore the clothes off your body to cool down, your nails leaving red welts on your arms in the frenzy.

Nothing helped.

You knew what you had to do. You had thought about it before, even made the plan with Amelia while you were under the care of your grandmother. You'd make as much money as you needed and then drop off the face of the earth. You'd run, together.

That was before she met Aaron.

She changed while you were sent to Cordelia. When you came back, she acted as if she'd seen a ghost, barely receptive to your return at all. She even gave Michelle a hard time and once you found out her father didn’t want her back, Nick insisted that she live with him.

And even after all of that you were still alone.

Your mind was a battlefield, memories ping-ponging back and forth. You were too young to be pouting in your room and too old not to take control of your own life.

So you packed a bag.

You hadn’t unpacked your work bag from yesterday, so that went into the larger bag. You took some outfits, your work ‘uniform,’ and some money. You grabbed your work keys and house keys. You wanted to take some pictures with you, but you couldn’t bear the thought of them getting lost or destroyed. You took out your burner phone and left your real one on the bed. You kissed your stuffed animals goodbye, their stitched smiles a cruel reminder of the built comfort you were leaving behind, and prayed that God would have mercy on you.

You snuck out of your room around 1 AM. Kissed your littles goodbye, and now it was 4 AM.

You had to be quick. The staff was still asleep, but you weren't going to take any chances. Avoiding cameras, you slipped past Amelia and Aaron's room, where you could hear them whisper-arguing, their voices low and venomous.

You rolled your eyes, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction at their discord, before crawling through the hallway and pausing before Joselyn and Hasin's door. You could hear her choked sobs and him trying to comfort her, his words a murmur of reassurance. A pang of guilt twisted in your gut, knowing you were part of her sorrow.

David’s room had a soft blue glow under the door, the familiar hum of his video game consel a faint comfort. You assumed he was playing to work off the stress from earlier, his own method of coping.

You continued on until you heard nothing but silence from Nick and Michelle's room, assuming she was asleep. You slipped down the stair banister and landed without making a sound, your heart pounding in your ears.

You passed the now-ruined dining room on your way to Nick's office. The staff weren’t equipped to fix it, and he had dismissed them for the evening. His office door was ajar, and you could tell he was drunk, singing quietly along to the music from his radio. A flash of anger surged through you, mingling with a sorrow you didn't want to acknowledge.

Nick was almost a father to you, looking after you when you were orphaned. You knew he loved you. But his love was a cage, and you couldn’t live in a house where your fate would be decided for you.

You left a note saying you were going out on a mission next to his office door before making your way to the garage. 

The darkness of the garage swallowed you as you stood there, the reality of your decision crashing down. Every step felt like a betrayal, every breath a stolen moment from a life you no longer wanted to live.

The cold, metallic scent of the garage mingled with the salty tang of your tears, creating a bitter cocktail of regret and resolve. You steeled yourself, knowing that this was the only way to reclaim your life, even if it meant breaking your heart in the process.

"Where are you headed off to?"

You spun around, knife in hand, and threw it without thinking. The blade clattered against metal as Michelle, perched on the hood of your car, blocked it with her purse. She stood from the vehicle, her eyes puffy and red from crying. The fabric and buckle of her purse was slashed, and she sighed, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her emotions.

"I am so sorry!" you whispered urgently, rushing to her side. Her face was a mess of dried tears and fresh streaks, her neck blotchy with anger and despair.

"I know what you're planning," she said, her voice raw. "And you can't do it."

You stared at her, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. "I have to. I can't stay here."

Michelle grabbed your arm, her grip vice-like. "If Nick catches you, it’ll be worse than anything you can imagine. He won't let you go."

"I don't care," you replied, your voice shaking but resolute. "I'd rather risk everything than be a prisoner here."

"But what if he finds you? What if—"

"I can't live like this, Michelle," you interrupted, your eyes blazing with desperation. "I have to go. Now."

Michelle looked into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, she took a deep breath and nodded. "Then I'm coming with you."

You both moved swiftly to the keypad by the garage door, fingers trembling as you entered the code. The alarm system blared to life, a deafening siren that sent panic shooting through you.

"Someone must have changed the codes," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the noise.

You bolted the door shut just as Nick's drunken yelling echoed down the hallway. His fists pounded on the door, and the sound of a gunshot rang out as he tried to shoot the lock.

"Come on, come on!" you panic, frantically trying the code again.

A noise from above drew your attention and your gun. You looked up to see David crawling through the vent. He dropped down, landing silently, and punched in a new code on the pad. The alarm fell silent.

David hugged both of you tightly. He climbed over his jeep and back into the vent and disappeared. 

You didn't have time to thank him. You and Michelle dashed to the car, hearts pounding. You jumped into the driver's seat of the station wagon, the engine roaring to life. With a deep breath, you floored the accelerator, smashing through the garage gate. The metal buckled and twisted, the sound of it tearing apart loud in your ears.

As you sped away, you could hear Nick's furious shouts growing fainter. Another gunshot, and a car alarm went off. The security staff would be on you in minutes. Your eyes darted to the rearview mirror, watching for any signs of pursuit.

"We have to disappear," Michelle said, her voice shaking.

"Completely."

You nodded, your mind already racing through the plan you'd made long ago. For days, you stayed on the move, your nerves frayed and tension

In a remote location, you set the final part of your plan into motion. You faked your death in an explosive fire, leaving behind nothing but ashes and a shattered past. The flames roared, consuming everything in their path, the heat intense against your skin.

As the fire died down, you and Michelle watched from a distance, the reality of what you'd done sinking in. The night sky seemed darker, the weight of your decision heavy on your shoulders. But at least now, you were free.

Until your marker arrived at the doorstep to your apartment in Japan. 

There was only one person in the world who had your marker: Amelia. Rage flared within you because you knew she would also be the only one to point out how there was no way you could have died. She hunted you down a few days later; you and Michelle had gone to Italy to buy some time.

Amelia found you in a small, tucked-away café in Rome. The three of you sat at a corner table, tension thick in the air. Michelle's presence was an irritant to Amelia, her eyes narrowing every time Michelle spoke.

"I refuse to talk without her," you stated firmly.

Amelia huffed, her annoyance palpable. "Fine. Let's go somewhere private. We can’t discuss this here."

You all drove in silence to the old estate that had once belonged to Cordelia, the secluded location offered the privacy you needed. The car ride was fraught with unspoken words and simmering anger. The estate was a relic of the past, its once-grand halls now echoing with the ghosts of former glory. The nature around it was working hard to cover every inch of the house. Trying to swallow up the evil that once resided there. 

As soon as you entered the drawing room, the arguments began.

"You can't just quit because they want you to marry," Amelia snapped, her voice cutting through the stillness like a knife.

You paced the room, frustration evident in your every movement. "It's not just about the marriage! Stop making it about getting married!" You threw your hands into the air and started at her. 

Amelia crossed her arms, her stance defensive. "You can still be a lawyer, even with the marriage!" Oh this bitch don’t listen. 

"No, Amelia," you shot back, turning to face her with blazing eyes. "Then they’ll just keep me under their thumb. I want out. I want my life back." You crossed your arms over your chest now. 

Amelia shook her head, exasperation and desperation mingling in her expression. "We can't both get out of this life. It doesn’t work that way." 

You stopped pacing and stared at her, your voice filled with hurt. "It isn't fair. I supported you even though I don't like Aaron. I made sure you got out, found your true love, had kids, and your happily ever after. And I’m the younger one!"

Amelia’s eyes softened for a moment before hardening again. "I have my own life now. And you know that if you leave, I’ll get dragged back into being an assassin. Like you said, I have children now."

"And another one on the way," you whispered, the revelation hanging heavy in the air.

Amelia's eyes widened, her hand instinctively moving to her abdomen. "How did you—?"

"It doesn’t matter how I know," you interrupted, your voice trembling. "What matters is that I won’t let you or anyone else control my life anymore."

Amelia's eyes narrowed, her posture rigid with anger. "You always make it about you, don't you? Have you ever thought about anyone else? Like how your actions affect me?"

You felt a surge of bitterness. "You think I haven’t? You think I don’t know how hard this is for you? But—"

"Aaron saved me!" Amelia's voice was sharp, cutting through the room. "He chose not to kill me. He—"

"He didn't do it because he wanted to manipulate you!" you shot back. "He’s four years older than you, Amelia! When you met, he was a senior in high school, and you were just a freshman. How can you not see how wrong that is?"

Amelia's face flushed with anger. "Get over it! You wanted me to marry Christian, but that’s not what I wanted. Christian was just a familiar choice for you."

"At least Christian was closer in age and actually fought for you during missions!" you retorted. "Aaron had a previous engagement he didn’t tell you about. His family didn’t even approve of you. And I always covered for you two to go out on dates. I did that impossible task for you both because you were pregnant, and even married you when the priest wasn’t available so no one would know about the baby!"

Amelia's eyes blazed with fury. "You're just jealous because you don’t have anyone to love you and stand beside you."

Michelle, who had been silent, finally spoke up, her voice trembling but firm. "Amelia, you're being wrong and disgusting. You can't talk to her like that."

Amelia sneered at Michelle. "You have no idea what you're talking about. This is family business."

“She is our family!” You raised your hands, trying to calm the situation. "We won’t ever agree. I’m sorry, Amelia, but I have the right to live a good life. I won’t be a puppet for the family anymore. I’ve sacrificed my life until this point for them."

Amelia stopped, staring at you with a mix of anger and hurt. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, her lips trembling. "You should’ve died here with Cordelia," she spat out, the words dripping with venom.

Michelle gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. You felt a chill run down your spine as you struggled to keep your temper. "How could you say that, Amelia?" you asked, your voice cold and controlled.

Amelia's face twisted with a bitter smile. "You heard me. You should’ve died with Cordelia. At least then, you wouldn’t be causing all this trouble." Her arms were crossed over her chest, she meant every word. 

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of Amelia's words hanging heavily in the air. The bond between you, already strained, felt like it had snapped entirely. You stood there, feeling a mix of anger, betrayal, and sadness, the gravity of your situation sinking in even deeper.

"You don’t mean that," you said quietly, trying to believe it yourself.

Amelia’s expression didn’t change. "Yes, I do. If you can’t see that, then you’ve finally gone crazy."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let her see you break. "I'm leaving, Amelia. For good. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me." You uncrossed your arms and stood straight like a soldier for inspection. 

Michelle stepped forward, her grip tightening on your arm. "We should go," she murmured, her voice laced with urgency.

You nodded, turning your back on Amelia. As you picked up your bags to leave the estate, the cold air seemed to infiltrate your very being, magnifying the agonizing rift between you and your sister. The ancient walls echoed with painful memories, each step amplifying the ache in your chest.

Amelia’s voice, sharp and clear, pierced through the chill of the hallway. "Nick had a choice after Grandma died," she said, her words heavy with implications. You stopped to turn to her while Michelle tried to tug you forwards. 

“What?”

"He could have raised you for a few years and then handed you over to Joselyn, who was already in her senior year of high school. David still had his parents, and I had Aunt Sophia to take care of me.” Sophia was the best friend of Amelia’s mother. You held no ill will towards her. She was a kind fillipina woman that often made you dinner on school nights. 

“Or," she paused, her voice growing colder, "he could let Cordelia teach one of us the art of seduction, and the family would get paid millions for each mission."

You halted, your back still turned to her, the weight of her words pressing down on you. Slowly, you pivoted to face her, your complexion ashen. 

"Why are you telling me this?" you whispered, barely able to find your voice.

Amelia stepped closer, her eyes glinting with cold malice. "You were the better everything," she spat at your feet. "Better fighter, better grades, better in the field. So he had to choose between us. And he sent you off here."

A shudder ran through you as the memory of that night resurfaced, vivid and haunting. You recalled the tearful goodbye, the way he had clung to you, his voice choked with emotion. But now, with Amelia's words slicing through the air, those memories felt tainted. 

You wondered if his tears the night before had been fake, if the hugs had been nothing but a show. Each recollection, once a comfort, now felt like a cruel deception. The warmth of his embrace seemed to evaporate, replaced by a realization that it might all have been a lie.

"That bitch should've ruined you on the spot," Amelia hissed.

"I was only thirteen!" you shouted, the hot pain of your nails digging into your palms, blood trickling from the wounds.

"You were fourteen soon enough," Amelia retorted, stepping even closer, her voice dripping with contempt.

Michelle swiftly moved between you, her body a protective barrier. "Stop this, Amelia. This is insane," she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger.

You tried to maintain your composure, your entire body trembling with the effort. Biting your tongue so hard you could taste the metallic tang of blood pooling in your mouth, you fought to keep yourself from collapsing under the weight of the confrontation. 

The memories, now shadowed with doubt and betrayal, threatened to overwhelm you, you were trying to stand your ground, to hold on a little longer. 

Amelia ignored Michelle, her eyes locked on yours with a piercing, unforgiving gaze. "Nick chose you because you were the best. But he didn't want you. None of us did."

You let go.

Your vision blurred with tears, a torrent of emotions crashing over you. Memories flickered through your mind, each one a painful reminder of the sacrifices you had made. 

"I've done everything for everyone," you choked out, your voice breaking. "I've been everyone's cheerleader! I kept going to school and work despite how horrific the assassinations were! You all refused to get me help! I've never asked for anything other than love and acceptance, and even that I only get on a surface level!"

A flashback hit you like a punch to the gut. You remembered your parents, their faces warm and loving. The way your father used to lift you onto his shoulders, making you feel invincible. The soft lullabies your mother sang to soothe you to sleep. The safety and love you had once known felt like a distant dream.

Amelia shrugged, her expression indifferent, almost bored. "We may have been raised together and trained together, but I have the life I've always wanted now."

You could almost hear your mother’s voice, reassuring and kind, telling you to be strong, to believe in yourself. But that voice was drowned out by the cold, harsh reality of Amelia's words. The love and security you had longed for seemed forever out of reach.

"So that's how it is?" you asked, your voice trembling with suppressed rage and heartbreak. The betrayal wasn’t what hurt you. Nor was it reopening old wounds you had tried so hard to heal.

It was the fact that the woman you called your sister just openly admitted to not loving you.

"That is how it must be," Amelia replied coldly, her words a final, unyielding verdict.

The pain in your chest intensified, the weight of your family's rejection pressing down on you. Years of training as a child to be forced into being a weapon. You felt the sting of countless nights spent alone, wrestling with nightmares, while they lived their lives, unburdened by the sacrifices you had made. The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth as you bit your tongue, trying to hold back the sobs threatening to escape. Each breath was a struggle, each heartbeat a painful reminder of the love you had been denied.

You stood there, fighting to keep yourself upright, the fleeting memories of a happier time clashing with the cold reality before you. The warmth of your parents' love seemed like a cruel illusion, and the emptiness left in their passing was almost too much to bear. 

You let go. 

In a flash of anger, you lunged at Amelia, your hand slashing through the air towards her face. She stumbled back, catching the door frame as Michelle barely managed to hold you back. "If you weren't pregnant, I don't know what I'd do to you," you snarled, your voice trembling with fury.

Amelia stood up before snatching her purse and stomping down the hallway. Her eyes were dark as she glared at you then Michelle with her hand over her belly. For a moment, you felt terrible for what you’d done.

"Oh yeah, they expect strong babies from you," Amelia sneered, her words dripping with venom. You lashed out again, and this time, your hand caught her blouse, ripping the fabric.

Amelia's frustration boiled over, her eyes blazing with contempt. "You should have done it. At least if you went through with it I wouldn't have to stand here now and look at your sorry face."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, echoing through the empty halls of the estate. You stood there, trembling with rage and sorrow, as Amelia walked away, her figure disappearing out the sunny door. Michelle's grip on your arm was the only thing grounding you in that moment of despair.

As the cold, dark estate seemed to close in around you, the memories of your past and the weight of your family's rejection bore down on you. You felt the sting of Amelia's words, the brutal finality of her dismissal, and it ignited a fire within you.

Quiet literally, too. 

You could still see the flames, fierce and consuming, devouring the old estate as if trying to erase every trace of the pain and betrayal that had taken place within its walls. You remembered the smoke filling your lungs, the heat scorching your skin, and the overwhelming sense of loss as everything you had known went up in flames.

And now, as you stood in the cold, dark remnants of that estate, you felt the same burning resolve. The estate had been a symbol of everything you had endured, and its destruction was both a tragedy and a release. It marked the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you turned to Michelle, who looked at you with a mix of concern. "[Name], what do you think?” David's hand rested on your right shoulder. 

"We don't have any time to lose, lets move out."

—----

John Wick and the Bowery King pulled up to the Morales Estate in the sleek Mustang Mach 1, its engine purring softly as they approached. Nick Morales awaited them outside, a rare sight that immediately raised suspicions in both John and the Bowery King.

The King remarked quietly as they exited the car, "That’s unusual."

John nodded in agreement, his senses on high alert. They followed Nick towards the grand entrance, where his tight-lipped expression spoke volumes. Without a word, Nick motioned them inside, the tension thickening with each step through the estate's opulent foyer.

"What’s this all about, Nick?" John asked bluntly, his voice a low rumble that conveyed suspicion.

Nick led them towards his office, his footsteps deliberate and measured. "David was caught assisting [Name] and my wife, Michelle, in their escape," he explained evenly, his tone betraying a mix of frustration and resignation.

John's brow furrowed, his mind already calculating the implications. "Did he confess that himself?"

Nick shook his head solemnly. "No, but I reviewed the backup security tapes."

They entered Nick’s office, the same picture of you gleaming on his desk. Nick motioned for them to take seats, his demeanor grave. 

"Today was supposed to be the day [Name] met her intended," he continued, his voice tinged with annoyance. "But she’s still nowhere to be found."

“I know she gave you the slip in Japan,” Nick admitted evenly, his gaze unwavering.

The Bowery King interjected, his voice calm but firm. “Seems no one can quite catch your Fawn.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed, a glint of suspicion crossing his features as he regarded the King. "How did you get those scars?" His question held an undercurrent of threat, a reminder of the dangerous world they inhabited.

John, ever observant and calculating, sensed the tension in the room. His jaw clenched slightly, his mind racing through the possibilities. "You're not the one who employed me," he stated firmly, his gaze locked on Nick. "Where's Amelia?"

Nick hesitated for a moment, the weight of their situation evident in his heavy sigh. “She’s preparing for the meeting.”

“Is she going to pretend to be the Fawn?” John pressed, his voice sharp with intent.

Nick’s response was curt and direct. “Yes.”

John’s expression hardened. “Then what do you need me for?” His question hung in the air, a challenge wrapped in a demand for clarity and purpose.

The atmosphere in Nick’s office crackled with tension, each word and gesture laden with unspoken threats and hidden agendas. As they awaited Nick’s response, John and the Bowery King thought about reaching for their pockets. 

Tap, tap, tap.

A sudden knock echoed through the thick wooden door. Nick's brow furrowed in irritation, his hand pausing mid-gesture as he turned towards the interruption.

"Go away," Nick called out sharply, his voice carrying a hint of frustration.

The door creaked open slowly, and to everyone's surprise, Michelle stepped into the room with an air of calm authority. She was dressed impeccably in a fashionable, floral tailored suit that flattered her figure and exuded confidence. Her entrance took Nick, the Bowery King, and John Wick off guard to say the least. 

"Good morning, everyone," she said brightly, as if she'd been part of the conversation the entire time. "Nick, we have so much to do today. The schedule is packed!"

Without missing a beat, Michelle strode up to Nick's side, her presence commanding the room. It was as if there was nothing ever wrong. As if she hadn’t even left in the first place. Like John didn’t literally just see her in a bullet proof rave suit the night before. 

Now shit was getting real. All three men looked as if they had seen a ghost. 

Nick sputtered, his face turning a shade of red. "Michelle... what are you...?" He stood and made an attempt to touch her face, which she dodged.

Michelle continued, ignoring Nick's flustered state. "I hope you're ready for the meetings this afternoon. We need to finalize the details for the gala next week." She turned to John and the Bowery King, her smile warm and welcoming. "Excuse me,” She extended her hand out to John and The King who shook it gently out of confusion and custom.  

“Welcome to our home! I hope your journey here was pleasant."

John and the Bowery King exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions a mix of confusion and admiration for Michelle's seamless integration into the scene. Your mind raced, trying to comprehend how Michelle had managed to appear so effortlessly without triggering any alarms or security measures. The King's thoughts mirrored yours, both men recognizing the formidable skills of their elusive charge.

"And don't worry," Michelle added with a light laugh, "Our lovely will be along soon, hopefully. You know how long she takes to get dressed!"

The casual remark hung in the air, leaving Nick, John, and the Bowery King momentarily speechless. The fact that Michelle was here, acting as if nothing unusual had happened, while their intended target—you—was still unaccounted for, was both unsettling and impressive. The realization that they were dealing with top-tier operatives, capable of navigating and manipulating their environment with such finesse, weighed heavily on their minds.

Nick finally found his voice, though it was tinged with frustration and admiration. "Michelle, we need to talk about-"

Michelle waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, Nick, you worry too much. Everything is under control." She turned back to John and the Bowery King, her demeanor composed and professional. "Now, let's focus on the tasks at hand, shall we?"

The men exchanged glances again, their expressions a mixture of resignation and respect. 

Michelle had effortlessly thrown a wrench in the dynamics of the room, leaving them all to wonder just what on earth was going to happen at the Morales Estate today. 

And what you were up to.

"Oh Nicky!~"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Also posted on my ao3. If you see any mistakes just let me know. I don't have an editor yet.

Please check out my other works posted in the master list.

I am back and this took me so long you have no idea how juicy and tension filled chapter 4 is gonna be.

Tag list: @littledebbieinabigworld @treedaddymcpuffpuff <33

I'ma also tag @johnwickb1tsch because they are so freaking sweet!!

Part 1: Can be found right here.

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a fic for almost everyone here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

My DM's and requests are open!

I promise I bite~

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[arece]

Late Arrival

♤ John Wick x platonic!f!reader (father/daughter duo???) series masterlist

(𝟷)

♤ Summary: You accidentally kill a man after he attacks you, only to discover he's the son of a very dangerous and powerful gang leader. Your safety is now entrusted in the hands of John Wick. (2.6k)

♤ Warnings: Attempted assault (not successful or too detailed), John Wick violence and death, descriptions of injuries and blood.

♤ a/n: This is possibly one part of many. I roughly have a whole series planned out but would like to see if others are interested in it before I fully commit to it. If you have any thoughts or requests of what you'd like to see with these two, request away!

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

The bright crimson leaked a trail down the alley towards you and you threw yourself back in a last ditch effort to keep it away from you. There was already enough blood on your hands which you desperately tried to wipe away, it was too late they were already stained.

What you did finally hit you as you caught sight of the bloodied pipe tossed to the side of the now mangled body. “Fuck.” You almost start heaving as your breathing begins to pick up. Where did he even come from?

You were on your latest job for Aurelio, stealing whatever parts he needed for his latest design. He came upon you when you naively tried to steal from him months ago, when he caught you he seemed the furthest thing from pissed.

Highly amused he thought a crafty thief of a fourteen year old was good for his business. He took you in dubbing you the ‘street rat’ and you ran his errands. It was better than living on the streets, surviving off of scraps like you’d been for the last two years. Although weary of the man and his definitely not-so-legal work, you agreed to join.

Being discreet was your biggest ally, being so young you were mistaken for just a regular kid which made it easier to hide away in plain sight, stealing from the unsuspecting. After living on the streets for so long you liked to think you knew the city inside out.

Twisting through alleyways was the perfect way to remain out of sight, it was also the perfect way to get attacked. You were leaning against the wall, catching your breath after almost getting caught from your latest heist.

You may have laughed at the guy when he walked right past you, pissed off, clueing him on who stole from him. You could only think about how annoyed Aurelio was gonna be with you as you ran two extra blocks.

You noticed a shadow moving closer to you from the corner of your eye, before you could move one arm wrapped around your midsection yanking you to a chest and another covering your mouth.

You jab your elbow straight into your attackers ribs, causing them to release you but not before tossing you further back into the alley near a dumpster. You scrambled up and managed to catch sight of the person.

It was a guy, roughly in his twenties. He was tall but lanky and dressed in a way that screamed ‘douchey-rich’. The type of kids who thought they were the shit before getting robbed by the small group of street kids.

“What the fuck do you want? I didn’t take shit.” You had assumed he was one of the guys' lackeys. You realized you were wrong when a sickly smirk grew on his face, his eyes slightly crazed.

He walked closer to you and you backed up until you bumped into the dumpster. He seemed to only get more excited when he saw how scared you grew which only increased the sick feeling you felt festering. “I’m only here for some fun.”

He lunged at you, knocking you to the ground and your head slammed against the concrete. Vision blurred as you watched his wandering hands reach for you. No, no, no. You couldn’t tell if you were screaming but he still covered your mouth with one hand.

Your head turned to the side and by the corner of the dumpster you saw a lone metal pipe. Slowly, your left hand reaches for it, fingertips brushing against the cold metal before you fully have it in your grasp.

You move your hold to the middle of it and use all your strength to hit the end against the side of his head. He falls against you and you cry out, shoving him off you in a panic. Everything feels hazy and faraway.

You stand on unsteady feet now holding onto the pipe with both hands, raising it above your head you let out a sob and smash it down on his head. Again. Again. Over and over till you lose your strength and your lungs give out from your wails.

You dropped the metal beside his caved in head and fell back to the ground. Wiping the blood away desperately you scooch back from the swirling crimson puddle coming from him. Something catches the light momentarily.

A silver pin was on his jacket now tainted with his blood. You choked on your breath when you caught sight of the symbol on it - a card spade. Now you were really in for it, you just killed the son of one of the most influential gangs. Aurelio said they were second to The High Table. You didn’t know much about either but the fear in his eyes spoke volumes.

Pocketing the pin, you stumble up still in a daze. You smear trickles of blood over your face when you roughly shove your hair back. You had a lot to explain to Aurelio, maybe he’ll decide you weren’t worth the risk. Afterall, you’re as good as dead now.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

You stood in front of the garage shop, the definition of a mess. Clothes ripped, hair knotted, drenched in blood, and you were pretty sure your head was busted open from the earlier fall. Aurelio rushed out, pushing past the others to reach you.

“What the fuck happened?” He eyed you over, his worry breaking through his angered demeanor. You numbly reached into your pocket and held out the bloodied spade pin, “I didn’t mean to.”

He did a once over of the pin and you before shoving one of the chairs beside him, “fuck.” You slightly flinch back but remain unaffected otherwise as you stared blankly ahead. He rubs a hand over his face, catching sight of a gold coin atop his desk.

“I have a favor to call in.” He walks off into his office quickly, muttering to one of the guys about getting you something to clean up with as he reaches for his phone. You're handed a damp rag but just hold it as you listen in to bits and pieces of Aurelio’s phone call.

You mostly make out rough grumbling but catch some words. “Favor…come and see… accident -  he tried to…” You stop listening in after that, shutting your eyes tightly in an attempt to block out everything that just happened.

You don’t know how long you stood there but were interrupted by Aurelio clearing his throat. Your eyes snap open to see him awkwardly gesturing to the rag you held in your grasp. “Not gonna clean up?”

You shake your head and toss it to the side, it didn’t matter no matter how much you scrubbed the blood would remain, hands forever tainted with a reddish hue. “Who were you talking to?”

He pulled up the chair he pushed to the side earlier and brushed your question off. 

His hands clasped together, his leg bouncing up and down in an anxious frenzy, “do you wanna talk about-”

“No.” You snapped firmly. You shocked yourself with the aggression you showed towards him. You shrunk back in guilt. Aurelio seemed to understand as he changed back to the question you asked earlier.

“I called in a favor. Who you killed, you’re gonna need someone to keep you safe and he can.” Your heart dropped in realization, you were right, Aurelio thought you were too much of a risk and was pawning you off to some stranger.

In the end you couldn’t really blame him, you had severely fucked up yet you couldn’t help but feel the burning sting of betrayal and hurt.  He had taken you in, fed you, housed you, and taught you. Now you were being thrown out so easily. “If the Spade’s are so powerful, how is some guy supposed to protect me?”

It felt like a childish jab, like you were one step away from pouting your bottom lip out. Aurelio sighed and brushed a hand over the top of his head. “He’s John Wick,” he slightly scoffed, a ghost of a grin on his face like he’s on some inside joke.

Your brows furrowed, now frustrated by how amused he seemed at the prospect of your imminent death. Your hands formed fists, the now dried blood flaking off at your knuckles reminding you of the state you were in. “Who the fuck is John Wick?” 

“Him.” You looked behind you to see a tall man standing at the entrance in an all black suit. You hadn’t even heard him come in - you really needed to work on people being able to sneak up on you so easily.

He was older, late forties to mid fifties. Shoulder length hair and a full beard that had odd patches dipping near his mouth. The man was stoic, a displeased frown that you could tell sat permanently on his face from the way it suited him.

His displeasure seemed to grow as he observed you before turning back to Aurelio, “she’s a kid.” You huffed out, not liking how he brushed off your presence, “yeah, real observant asshole.” Aurelio glared at you while John continued to ignore you.

“She is. Look, they're going to come after her and we both know I can’t do shit - but you.” John surveyed you again. You felt uncomfortable under his gaze but refused to back down, standing tall. You weren’t gonna let him intimidate you, not after what happened today.

He seemed to find what he was looking for, nodding at Aurelio. “Let’s go,” he grabs the coin from Aurelio before heading out the garage, waiting for you to follow. You began to feel panic crawling up your throat at the idea of leaving with this guy.

You turned to Aurelio, begging with your eyes as you felt your eyes burning, a threat to possible tears. You were scared, god were you scared. Aurelio shook his head, muttering a small, “go” before heading back into his office.

You sniffed, grabbing the stupid part you stole for him and threw it at one of the windows, shattering it. You were hoping for a reaction but was met with complete silence. He gave up on you. 

You followed after John in defeat. He got you into the passenger seat of his Boss 429. While he pulled out he reached into the center console and tossed you some wipes to clean off the blood. You had a feeling it was something he frequently experienced.  

You roughly wiped at the dried blood, you wouldn’t be able to clean all of it off but this will do for now. “Where are you taking me?”

He stared at the road ahead, only sparing you a small glance through the rearview mirror, “the Continental.” His answer was short and blunt, getting information out of him will be hard but you’re persistent.

“What’s the Continental.” Without a moment passing, “a hotel.” You frowned and carelessly let the blood stained wipes fall to the bottom of the car. If he was bothered by it he didn’t say anything. “How’s a hotel supposed to protect me?”

“It’s discreet.” The way he answered in riddles further annoyed you. Your trust in him was short, you don’t know what Aurelio gave him, just the gold coin? Either way it seemed small considering the gang he’d have to go up against and just for you.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” He shook his head. You leaned back in your seat and lifted your legs to rest on the console. No point in fighting this now, you were trapped in the car with him.

Without looking he pushed your legs back down, paying no mind to your glare. “Not safe.” You scoffed, yet listened to him and kept your feet down. “I’m being hunted down after killing some asshole and have to rely on you. I think the car is the least of my worries.”

He lightly snorted at your jab but was cut off by a car slamming into you guys from the back. His arm shot out in front of you, holding you back from flying forward. “You alright?” You breathlessly nodded, watching as he looked back.

He reached back into the console, this time pulling out a gun. He unbuckled you and pushed you down below the window view. “Stay down,” he orders you before getting out of the car, the sounds of gunshots firing immediately. 

You weren’t able to follow his orders for long when the cracked back windshield was shattered. You flinched back down, covering your head with your arms. One of the men in all black tactical gear crawled in towards you.

Your eyes widened, frantically you reach blindly behind you until your hand manages to grab ahold of the door handle. You yank on it just as the man reaches to pull you by your leg, falling out of the car backwards and hitting your already injured head.

You kick at his wrist in an attempt to break free though it was little use. With blurred vision he reached for your arms and pulled you upright. You punched at his shoulders, arms, ribs, anything you could reach as panic filled you at the all too familiar scene playing out.

John turned back from cutting one of the men down with their own knife at the sound of your scream. He was met with you in a mercenary's grip, trying to escape while he tried to search you over.

He flipped the knife around, tightening his grip around it as he strode back over to the car. His steps were silent enough that the mercenary didn’t look up until it was too late. He pulled at the arm wrapped around yours, bending until he heard a satisfying snap.

The man yelled out and you were released from his grip. You fell to the ground and John grabbed the man by his now broken arm until he was close enough to plunge the blade straight through his throat.

Blood sprayed over the both of you as you frantically crawled backwards. John let the body drop and turned to see you looking at the bodies all around with a crazed look in your eye. He knelt down to your level and reached for your shoulder. 

You began to thrash around wildly, shrieking for him to let you go. “Stop- hey, hey,” He tried to call out to you as he wrapped you tightly in his grip, preventing the possibility of you accidentally hurting yourself. 

He held on as you sobbed. You gripped onto him as you came to, not wanting him to let go. “I got you, kid. I got you now.” You heaved into his chest and he clutched the back of your sore head in a soft hold.

After you had settled he cautiously released you and looked you over to make sure you weren’t physically hurt. He gently moved your face to the side, wiping the fresh blood away to take a closer look at the back of your head.

“We’ll get the Doctor to look at that,” he stood up, pulling you with him. He wrapped his arm around you to guide you back to the car that was now severely damaged. You didn’t have the energy to question him, you just let him buckle you in and place his jacket over you.

You curled up in your seat and let yourself fall asleep under his watchful eye. You don’t know how the Spade’s have found you so quickly. All you did know was that trusting him was all you had left.

[sansa-bird]

Thranduilsperkybutt 8000 follower prompt-a-thon @thranduilsperkybutt

Prompt: 26

Word count: 1,002

Fandom: John Wick

Pairing: Aurelio/reader

Warnings: language

Gif credit: @johnbabayagawick

You were in trouble. BIG trouble. And the longer you stalled trying to figure out how you were going to break the news to him, the more pissed off he was going to be.  

Fuck.  

Best to just bite the bullet and take the car to him. It still ran, you could drive it there. Not having to call Aurelio to pick you and the car up with the flatbed would be the best idea right now.

Sighing you climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key. Once, twice, third times the charm, you hear the engine roar to life. Ok, not roar, more like sputter softly. But it's running, and you just need to get it to Aurelio.  

Putting the '63 Stingray in gear you slowly make your way to his shop. He's really going to have your head for this.

Work in the shop ceased as you pulled in, all eyes turning towards you. With a grimace you try to hide lower in the seat. At this rate, someone would blab to Aurelio before you had a chance to even get out of the car. You meant to prepare him, not blindside him.  

Finding the spot where it went, you quickly put it in park and cut the engine. Jumping out you ran towards his office, only to be met by him and one of his guys half way there.

"What did you do?" He asks, voice tight but not angry. Yet.

"uhhm, it's probably best if you just come and look at it," you sigh, biting your lip.  

Closing his eyes, as if to calm himself, he nods and waves his guy off before walking towards the car.  

Following behind him, you wish you were able to hide, as if you could. Your breath catches as you realize the exact second he sees it. He doesn’t stop walking, but you can see his shoulders tense up, and he turns his head slightly to the left, looking for you. You can almost visually see the daggers coming from his eyes.  

Stopping at the front bumper he takes in his car. His baby. His pride and fucking joy. You were dead. Or at the very least, had months and months of making up to do.  

The front bumper had hit a tree, after you swerved to avoid hitting a couple that had bolted out between two parked cars. You hadn't hit it that hard, but hard enough to dent it, those bumpers were not plastic like the ones on your car. The spider web crack starting on the left side of the windshield was from the woman's purse that she had let go of as her partner pulled her back, safely away from your car.

He rubbed his temple with a sigh and started to walk around to see what other damage you had wrecked on his baby. Scratches down the driver's side rear fender, though to be honest, you're not sure if you remember exactly HOW those had happened.  

He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the back end of the car.  

"Y/N, where's the muffler?" He asks, voice weary in anticipation of what your answer would be.

Biting your lip, you walk over to the passenger side and open the door. Pointing inside you step back as he approaches and looks down into the seat. Sitting on your favourite cashmere sweater was the muffler.  

"Y/n, why is the muffler sitting on your sweater in the front seat with the seatbelt wrapped around it?" He asks, a new edge to his voice that you couldn't quite name. Horror? Amusement?  

Swallowing the tears that are threatening, you will not let the other mechanics working see you cry, you take a quick look at him before looking down.  

"With everything that had happened to the outside of the car, I didn't want the muffler to ruin the leather seats," you explain, voice barely above a whisper.

Silence meets your answer, and it goes on so long that you chance a peak up at him. As you do he lets out a bark of laughter, causing the tears in your eyes to fall.  

Rubbing his temple, he laughs until he realizes you're crying.  

"Hey, Y/n, what's wrong?" He asks turning towards you, taking your hand in his.

"That was not the reaction I was expecting," you answer honestly, your free hand wiping away the tears.  

He pulls you in close to him, his hand reaching up to cup your face, and his thumb catches the last stray tears.

"Y/N, are you hurt?" He asks softly.

You shake your head and he pulls you in close for a hug.  

"Then that's all that matters here. It's just a car, I can fix it," he explains rubbing your back.  

Pulling away slightly he tilts your chin up so you can see his eyes.  

"You, I can't fix. As long as you're ok, nothing else matters."

You smile at him, eyes still watery, as he leans down to press his lips to yours in a soft kiss. Pulling you tight against him, you rest your head on his chest, his comfort releasing the weight that was on your chest.  

Pulling away he turns and closes the passenger side door and holds out his hands for the keys. Digging into your pocket you hand them over, very relieved to have given them back. Aurelio walks over to the driver's side, opens the door and puts the keys under the visor before closing it. Turning towards you he motions for you to come with him.  

"Are you seriously not pissed?" You venture to ask as you walk with him towards his office.  

"Pissed? No, like I said, it can be fixed. It's what I do. And I know you'll make it up to me," he says, voice full of suggestion.

"Besides if there’s one thing I learned from tonight, it’s to never trust you with the keys to my car again," he finishes with a grin.

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader 162

warnings: none hmh masterlist

NYC at night is a whole experience. The cars honking, people laughing together and yelling at one another the next minute, the man on the corner near the bookshop who always plays the sax--you always drop a few bucks in there every time you pass him. It’s just…magical. John doesn’t find it so magical but he’s a kind of a butthead sometimes. That was said with affection, of course.

Jimmy has been talking about doing a pub crawl for years, and he’s finally planned one all out. You’re not much of a drinker, no one in your group really is, but it’s the experience and atmosphere that everyone is looking forward to the most, and of course getting to spend time without kids around. You’ve already been to two bars now, and you’re on your way to the third right now where Aurelio and Amanda are waiting.

Holding hands with John, you swing your hands back and forth and grin when he looks over at you. He leans down to give you a kiss, then he wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer.

John leans closer and whispers in your ear, “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” you tilt your head back, smiling at him.

Jimmy holds the door open for you all to head into the next bar, and you look back to see him whispering to John. He says something back to Jimmy and shrugs his shoulders, and Jimmy claps him on the back. Suspicious. You stop and raise your brows, and John smiles and wraps his arms around your waist.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing.” he whispers in your ear, then he kisses your cheek, “Gonna get something to drink. Want anything?”

You shake your head, “No, I’m good. I’ll sip off whatever you have.”

“Whiskey?” he asks, and you scrunch your face a little. “Whiskey sour?”

“Yeah! I want the cherry!” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips before walking over to the bar.

Jimmy is standing near the table with everyone else, so you walk over to him and lightly punch him in the stomach. He dramatically doubles over and groans before he stands up and looks at you with a goofy grin on his face.

“Look, I'm not usually nosy, but I am tonight, so what are you whispering to John about?”

“Nothing.” he laughs, glancing over at John at the bar.

You put your hands on your hips and give him a stern look, “James.”

“Nothing, I promise. It’s nothing bad.” he says, and you squint your eyes at him in hopes that he’ll spill something. “I promise, Y/N. It’s nothing bad. Would I lie to you?”

“Well, no, but you two are best friends and if he’s talking to you about something and not me, then I wanna know what it is. I know that makes me an overbearing wife, but he would do the exact same thing with Tess--he has!”

Jimmy laughs, “What makes you think he’s talking to me about something?”

“You two have been whispering to each other all night and he was at your place for hours yesterday!”

“I just needed his help with something. You were more than welcome to tag along.”

You frown a little, “I don’t think he wanted me to tag along.”

“He did,” Jimmy smiles softly, “When doesn’t he want you to tag along?”

You frown even more, “Wait, he wanted me to come with?”

“Of course he did! I don’t think John feels like John unless you’re around.” he says, and you put your hand over your heart, “Dude, I’m not kidding, the guy is obsessed with you. So, trust me when I say, it’s nothing bad. We just had a talk last night.”

You immediately perk up, “A talk?”

“Fuck…” he puts his hand over his mouth, “Seriously, Y/N, I promise it’s nothing bad.”

“He hates me.” you say, and Jimmy starts to laugh, “Nope, he hates me and he wants a divorce.”

Jimmy continues to laugh, “No, he just needed to talk to me about something that he couldn’t talk to you about, okay? He just needed a guy’s advice.”

“Well…that doesn’t make me feel any better.” your voice is so quiet that it’s easily swallowed up by the music, and you look up at Jimmy.

“Fuck, you look so sad…”

You shrug, “Why can’t he talk to me? I’m his wife.”

“It’s not like that,” he says, then he looks up to see John coming over, “Look, I promise it’s not bad. I know he’s my best friend, but I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You slouch a little when John brings drinks over for everyone, then he turns to you and holds up the drink, showing you that he got an extra cherry. You give me a small smile and try not to cry when you feel your eyes starting to burn.

John doesn’t keep secrets and you don’t either, so you’re wondering why he won’t talk to you but he’ll talk to Jimmy about something. Sure, it could be something totally male related that he doesn’t want to talk about with you, but you’ve shared some pretty gross stuff with him and have always felt he’d do the same thing with you. Now this puts you in the position of spiraling all night.

You could just ask him, pull him aside and talk to him, but you already know he’d never want to talk about it while you’re out with friends, and whatever it is that he talked to Jimmy about wasn’t something he wants to talk to you about anyway, so there’s no point.

“Having fun?” John whispers in your ear, and you nod when you look at him. He rubs his hand on your back and pats it before he walks over to Aurelio when he holds up some darts.

Sitting down at the table, you look over at John and watch as he chats with Aurelio, then he looks at Jimmy when he walks over. He says something to make Aurelio laugh loudly, but John just chuckles a little, only a smile spreading across his face.

“Oh!” Amanda gasps, and you look over at her as she runs off to hug Lauren when she walks in with her husband, Anthony.

That has to be it! John was probably just nervous because Anthony would be hanging out with you guys again, which you don’t really care about. Anthony used to work with John, but you don’t mind him. He’s pretty cool and you like his wife, Lauren.

You catch Jimmy’s eye when he looks over at the table--most likely checking on Tess--and you gesture to Anthony. Jimmy furrows his brow and shakes his head a little, and you gesture to him again.

Jimmy laughs and walks over to you, “What?”

“Is that why he talked to you? Because Anthony is here?”

“What? No. Y/N, stop worrying about it.”

“I can’t!” you yell over the music, holding Jimmy’s gaze, “Why can’t he talk to me?”

Jimmy sighs and kneels down so he’s eye to eye with you, “Listen to me, he loves you. If I’m telling you that it’s nothing to worry about, then it’s nothing to worry about. I wouldn’t lie to you. You’re like my little sister.”

You nod your head as you look down, “You’re right.”

“Come on, we only have one more bar to go to.” he nudges your arm and smiles, “Have a drink.”

“Okay.” you force a smile and nod your head.

John is standing over with Aurelio still, and you look over at him just as he looks at you. He gives you a small smile and holds up his drink to show you the cherry in it, and you shrug and turn your back to him.

__

The car ride back to Mill Neck wasn’t bad since you rode back with Tess and Amanda. Aurelio and Jimmy are in the car with John--both of them are absolutely wasted, so you’re sure John is loving that. Amanda had a few drinks and doesn’t feel fit enough to drive home, so they’ll be crashing at Tess’ house.

“Hey,” Amanda turns around and taps your leg, “You okay? You’ve been so quiet.”

You shrug and look at her from the backseat, “I’m okay.”

“Goose…” Tess leans up to look in the rearview mirror, “Talk to us.”

“Jimmy said that John needed to talk to him last night for ‘guy advice’ and I’m pretty sure he’s going to divorce me now because he probably thinks I’m hideous or he’s just sick of me being clingy, or these last two weeks without me around all the time has made him realize what a mistake he made and now he’s ready to just walk out and leave,” you sigh loudly once you get it all out, “He needed to talk to Jimmy about something that he couldn’t talk to me about.”

Amanda looks at Tess for a moment before they both burst out laughing. You watch them from the backseat and cross your arms over your chest until they stop.

“I’m sorry,” Amanda looks at you and reaches back to touch your knee, “But that is just plain stupid.”

“He’s crazy about you. Are you kidding me?” Tess adds, and you look at her, “You know he’s crazy about you.”

You shrug, “Maybe he’s not anymore.”

“These last two weeks have been a lot for you, babe,” Tess smiles softly, “But I’m sure it’s not what you think it is. Talk to him when you get home. I’ll bet he’s just waiting for a moment alone to talk to you.”

You shrug one shoulder, “Maybe.”

Tess pulls into her driveway and puts the car in park, and you hug her and Amanda before heading across the street to your house. Just as you come around the hedges, you bump into John’s solid chest.

“Oh, I was coming to get you.” he wraps his arm around you to keep you from falling, and you look up at him, “I thought you’d wait for me.”

“I didn’t know you were coming to get me…”

John laughs, “Of course I was. It’s almost 1 in the morning. I wasn’t going to let you walk over here alone in the dark.”

That’s love. John definitely still loves you.

“Oh.” you blink a few times and shrug, “Well, we better get home.”

John takes your hand and walks with you up the driveway, but he lets go to unlock the door. He steps in and turns on a light, then he smiles when you walk past him. You’re barely in the door before you bend down to take off your shoes. You scoop them up and quickly head up to your room, only stopping for a quick second to pet Bleu. Just as you stand up from putting your shoes in the bottom of your closet, you hear John come up to the bedroom.

“Are you upset with me?”

You turn around and look at him, “Are you upset with me?”

John laughs, “No. So, are you upset with me?”

“No.” you look at him before you pout a little, “Jimmy said you needed guy advice from him…”

“God, Jimmy…” John rubs his hands down his face and sighs, “Did he tell you what we talked about?”

You shake your head, “No, but I always thought that when you’d need someone to talk to, you’d come to me. You have before in the past, and I’m not sure if there’s been a shift in our relationship lately, or I’ve done something to make you feel like you can’t talk to me--”

“We haven’t had sex in almost two weeks.” he says, and you look at him. He puts his hand over his mouth, rubbing his beard before he throws his hands up a little, “We haven’t had sex and I was worried something was going on, so I went to talk to Jimmy. He’s talked to me about that stuff before, so I wanted his advice.”

“Oh.”

John lets out a small laugh almost like he’s embarrassed, “Yeah.”

“Well, were you planning on talking to me?”

“Yeah, tonight when we got home. We stayed out later than I expected.” he says, and you nod your head. He takes a deep breath and lets it out before he steps closer, “You’re still…into me, right?”

You scoff as you look at him, “Are you kidding me? Yes, abso-fucking-lutely.”

This makes John smile, which makes you smile even more.

“You’re still into me, right?” you ask, and John grins as he nods. “I know it’s almost been two weeks…”

“Why?”

You walk over and sit down on the bed, and John joins you. He reaches for your hand and holds it, gently rubbing his thumb against your skin.

“I’ve been so tired…”

John laughs as he nods, “Me too.”

“I feel like I’ve barely hung out with you for the last two weeks. I feel like I’ve barely even seen Ronan. I get called into the shop here and have to drop her off with my parents while you’re in Manhattan.” you look down at your hands and sigh, “The Manhattan shop was such a bad idea. We just struggle.”

“I know,” he sighs, then he looks at you, “But I don’t want to get rid of it.”

You smile, “I wanted one shop. The dream was a shop.”

“I thought having only a few people out there would be the way to go but it’s just getting too busy. I need to hire more people who know what they’re doing.” he admits, and you bite your cheek, “Baby, look at me. It’s all handled, okay? I also talked to Jimmy about that, about running a business, and he was a great help. He gave me some advice, so I’m going to follow that advice.”

“It’s gotten more popular than expected. Word must have gotten out that it’s John Wick’s shop,” you say, and he lets out a small laugh. “People probably come in and search through books for hidden weapons.”

John bumps your shoulder as he laughs, then he wrap his arm around you, “I have some interviews lined up for this week. We’ll figure this out.”

“Didn’t we just deal with this?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that your bookstore is gaining so much popularity!”

You start to laugh as you look at him, “I thought you hated me or something.”

“What?” he looks genuinely baffled and a little hurt, “Baby, that’s not going to happen. Ever. I have missed you more than you can even know lately. My time has been so divided between the shops and I’ve barely gotten to see my two favorite girls.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

John takes a deep breath, “I have it all figured out. That’s why I was at Jimmy’s house last night for so long. When I came home, Ro was in bed and so were you.”

“You could have woken me up…”

“For sex?” he asks incredulously before he starts to laugh, “I’m not an idiot, peach. And I’d like to keep my arms.”

You laugh, “I wouldn’t have broken your arms and I would have totally been up for sex.”

“Well,” he shrugs as he looks around, “We’re alone now.”

You let out a loud laugh as you flop back on the bed, “Not as hot when it’s planned.”

John hovers above you and rests his hand on your hip, “Why don’t we go down and finish the last of the chocolate cake you made the other night?”

“Cake. Great foreplay,” you whisper as he leans down to kiss you. You pull back and look at him, but he rests his hand on the back of your neck and brings you back to his lips for another sweet kiss. “I love you, John.”

“I love you too,” he smiles softly and pecks you one before he gets up and reaches for your hands to pull you off the bed.

You walk over and grab some pajamas from your dresser, then you quickly undress and put them on while John undresses down to just his boxers and a t-shirt. You both smile at one another as you walk to the door, and John gestures dramatically for you to go first, which makes you laugh since he’s kind of a dork.

“I was surprised to see Anthony and Lauren tonight.”

“Yeah, me too,” John says from behind you as you head down the stairs, “She’s really close with Amanda. I’m sure you’ll start hanging out with her more.”

You shrug, “She’s okay, but she feels more like Amanda’s friend than mine. I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“What?” John looks at you with his brow furrowed when you look at him, “Why wouldn’t she like you? You’re amazing and sweet, and you’re always kind. You’re funny. Did she say something?”

You start to laugh, “The fact that just two minutes ago I was questioning whether you loved me or not is insane.”

John grabs your waist and pulls you to him, “Yes, it is.”

“I just mean…it’s obvious.” you admit, and he starts to laugh as he nods. You close your eyes and shake your head, “It’s so fucking obvious how much you love me. I don’t know why I question it. I don’t know why I’m like this. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he smooths your hair back and moves you until your back is against the counter, “You don’t need to apologize, but you do need to just let me love you already and just accept that I do love you.”

You laugh, “Same goes to you, Mr. Wick.”

“Lauren has no reason to not like you.” he says, and you nod. “And I’m sure she does.”

“Yeah, but don’t some of Jimmy’s friends feel like his friends and not yours?” you say, and John nods. “Like that one guy, ugh, what’s his name?”

John laughs, “I know who you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, so he’s more of Jimmy’s friend than yours. You wouldn’t hang out with him without Jimmy.” you shrug your shoulders, “That’s how I feel with Lauren. She’s super nice but I’m not sure what we have in common.”

“I can think of some things, actually.” he leans against the counter and crosses his arms. You hold his gaze and nod when he raises his brows. He’s talking about himself and being with someone just like him; a retired hitman. “Sure, you two might not have everything in common, but you have a few big things in common.”

You chew on your bottom lip a little, “Yeah, that’s true.”

John moves past you to get a plate from the cupboard, then he places a piece of cake on it, “But at the end of the day, I don’t think she doesn’t like you. She’s just Amanda’s friends and that’s okay. When you do hang out with her, she’s nice, isn’t she?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” he says, handing you a fork with a smile on his face, “There’s not a single person in this world who doesn’t like my peach.”

You snort with laughter, “That’s just not true.”

“Is too.” he pecks you quickly and smiles, “Everyone loves you.”

“No, pretty sure that’s not true either.” you laugh, and John shakes his head slowly, “But if you say so…”

John pulls you closer to him and kisses you deeply, “I love you.”

“I love you more.” you kiss him quickly and take a bite of cake while he watches you.

“If you say so.”

__

When John said the new shop was getting busier than usual, he was not joking. There’s no where to park anyway, but the few spots that are out front of the shop are all taken. John says that he can drop you off, then just park behind in the alley and enter through the back door--yes, you made a joke about it.

As soon as you walk inside, you’re faced with a shop full of people. Thankfully none of them are really paying attention to you since they’re actually looking at books. Maya smiles and waves at you, and you give her a wave back before quickly heading downstairs to the office. You drop your things off and head back upstairs to see if they need help with anything. Some people want to see some books in the cases, but John is already there helping someone.

You stand back and smile while you listen to John describe the intricacies of the binding, and you see him light up every time he talks about it. He loves it so much, and it’s something he’s so proud of. After he’s gotten those few people taken care of, he looks over at you and smiles.

“You’re so cute,” you wrap your arms around his waist and smile, “Telling them all about your work. It’s adorable.”

John presses a kiss to the top of your head, “You ready for some interviews?”

“Yes, sir.” you let go of him so you can stand up straight, “Any of them here yet?”

“Not a clue,” he looks around the crowded shop. “Probably best to get most of these people out of here first.”

You and John both branch off to help the remaining customers until there’s only a few people left. It’s usually never this busy, but again, word has clearly spread about John owning the shop. Part of you wonders if he’d want to sell. You wander around the shop to see if there’s anyone else in need of help, then you go downstairs and find John sitting at the desk.

“Hey,” he glances over from his laptop, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” you smile at him, then you take a deep breath, “Do you think we should sell?”

John immediately looks at you, “Not at all. Why? Do you think we should?”

“I mean, if this is going to continue to be a stress for us, then yes, I do.” you admit as he looks at you, “I don’t want you to be stressed out.”

“Baby,” he gets and walks over to kneel in front of you, “That’s why we’re hiring even more people. I’m hiring managers now, so those will be the people who can take care of the big things when we can’t.”

“I guess sometimes you just think of the glamorous side of owning your own business and forget about the other shit that comes with it.” you sigh and look down at your hands, “I’m so sorry I’ve put you in this position.”

John shakes his head, “You did not put me in this position. I wanted to do this. I never knew I wanted to own a bookshop until we started talking about it one day. I want this too. Just because you said it was your dream first doesn’t mean it isn’t mine now too. We’re doing fine.”

“But are we going to hire managers and still have these problems?”

“No, because they will know how to handle it.” he reaches for your hand and squeezes it, “This is what I should have done in the first place. It’s why I asked Jimmy for help. I didn’t want to come to you, like a failure.”

You meet his gaze, “John, you are not a failure at all. At all. You hear me?”

“I do,” he laughs, leaning up to kiss you, “I hear you. Look, there’s a few people coming in today, so it would be nice if you stayed here for that.”

“Of course.” you stand up and watch as John moves the chair over to the other side of the desk so you’re next to him, and he kisses your cheek before you sit down.

John sits down and pulls your chair even closer to him, “You gotta make sure I don’t fuck up and hire someone horrible.”

You scoff, then you turn to him, “If you and I weren’t married and you still owned--”

“Yes. 100 percent yes, I would hire you.” he says before you can even finish your question, which makes you laugh loudly. “And I’d keep you late after work some nights so you could help me with something that I really didn’t need help with just so I could spend time with you, and maybe I’d even sneak in a touch here and there--obviously after I knew you were interested.”

“I’m interested. In whatever life, whatever scenario. I am interested.”

John grins wide, “Then I’d kiss you one night.”

“What kind of kiss? Because there are different kinds.”

“Want me to show you?” he whispers, and you nod your head as you lean closer.

John places his hand on the back of your neck and pulls you closer to him, but he lingers just above your lips for a moment before he lightly brushes his against yours. You let out a little pout that makes him smile, and he looks into your eyes for a moment before pressing his lips to yours. He reaches for your hand and pulls you from your seat to stand in front of him, then he slides his hands down to your knees where he pushes a little to get you to straddle his waist.

“I would kiss you like this, then…” he whispers as he moves to your neck, “Then I’d kiss you here. Then I would move my hands up to your waist and pull you closer so I could feel you against me. I’d slide my hand down to your ass and give you a little spank since you’re being so naughty.”

You laugh as you sit back and look at him, “You like when I’m being naughty though.”

“I do, I like it very much,” John pulls you closer and wraps his arms around you tight so you can’t move, “I love you.”

“Hey, John? Y/N?” Maya calls down the stairs, and you move off his lap and sit back down. She smiles when she gets to the bottom of the stairs, “I have someone here for an interview.”

John clears his throat and nods, “Send them in.”

“Ooh, you sound so professional.” you tease, and John winks at you, “I think we might need to do a little role-playing tonight. Boss and employee.”

“Hmm,” he hums, then he smirks, “I was hoping to see my favorite student Veronica again.”

You puff up your chest and cross your legs, “Play your cards right and you just might see her.”

That makes John laugh, which makes you smile. He reaches over and taps your leg, then he grabs some papers and gets ready for the interview. You grab a pad of paper and pen to put in your lap so you look professional or something, then you sit back and wait. Your phone chimes on the desk and you lean forward to look at it; a text from your mom who is watching Ronan this afternoon.

Helping Grandpa in the yard.

You smile as you look at the picture of Ronan clinging to your dad’s hand as he waters the flowers. You lean over and show John, and he smiles.

“Look at her,” he whispers, zooming in on Ronan, “She’s getting so big.”

“I can’t wait to see her after this,” you look at the picture and smile, “She loves her grandpa.”

Footsteps are coming down the stairs, so you quickly put your phone away and look up at the door as a younger woman, probably around her mid 20s, stands there. Her dirty blonde hair is up in one of those effortlessly messy buns that you can never figure out how to do. She smooths down her skirt and fixes her shirt a little as she steps into the office. You perk up and smile at her, then you stand up and introduce yourself.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. This is John.” you say, gesturing to him as he stands up to shake her hand.

“Macie,” she smiles and shakes your hand, then shakes John’s.

You gesture for her to sit down as you sit back next to John, and you look over at him as he starts the interview. He’s so much better at it than you, and he always knows exactly what to ask them. They go over her past work experience, her experience in management--she previously managed another bookstore, so that’s a good sign! They talk about why she’d be a good fit and how she could help improve the store. She’s willing to work whatever hours she’s offered and she’s flexible.

To you, you think she’s kind of a perfect fit.

“We’ll definitely give you a call.” John says, and you smile at her as she shakes his hand and yours one last time before she leaves. He looks over at you and smiles, “She seemed good.”

“Yeah, I liked her a lot. You’re so good at this stuff.”

John shakes his head as he laughs, “No, no, you’re way better. You get to interview the next one.”

You roll your eyes, “Fine.”

Maya hops down the steps and smiles warmly, “Got another!”

“Send her in!”

You cross your legs and look over at John as he grins at you, then he leans over and kisses your cheek a few times before moving down to your neck where he munches playfully. You scream with laughter and try to push him away but he just pulls your chair closer. You finally move away from him and widen your eyes in warning.

“Stop it,” you whisper at him, “This is so unprofessional.”

John scoffs, “Okay.”

You squint your eyes at him when he looks back at you, then you both start to laugh. You try to suppress it as best as you can when you hear footsteps on the stairs, but John reaches over and squeezes your thigh, causing a laugh to burst out of you.

“Jonathan Wick,” you warn him with a point of your finger, “Stop it!”

“You’re so cute when you try to be serious,” he leans over to kiss you, then he looks up at the door.

You fix your hair a little and smile when a woman walks in. She walks straight to John and shakes his hand, then she shakes yours.

“I’m Rachel,” she smiles as she sits down.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, and this is my husband, John. We own the shop.” you say, and she nods her head.

John clears his throat and reaches for his phone in his pocket, “I’m so sorry. I forgot I needed to make an important phone call.”

“Oh?” you look up at him and glance at Rachel, “Right now?”

“Yeah, it can’t wait.” he says, and you nod. “I’ll just be upstairs.”

You nod your head and smile when he kisses the top of your head. You can handle this. Interviews aren’t that hard to do. You smile at him when he walks to the door, then you give him a little wave before he closes it behind him.

__

“I don’t know, babe. I really like them both. They both have really good qualities.” you say as you clean off your plate, “Macie knows all the ins and outs of working at a bookstore, but Rachel is very charismatic and friendly. I think she’d be great out on the floor to help people.”

“We’re not looking for charismatic and friendly, we’re looking for a manager who can run the place when we’re not there.”

You furrow your brow and look at him, “You don’t like Rachel?”

“I would just prefer Macie.”

“Well, why don’t you like Rachel?”

John sighs and shakes his head, “Because I think Macie would be a better fit.”

“Now that I know you don’t like Rachel, I want her even more.” you say, and John scoffs before he looks at you and chuckles. “Why not both?”

“I mean, yeah, but…” he shakes his head, “That would be fine, but I think one for now would be good. Macie just makes more sense.”

“Should I be concerned by how badly you want Macie? Because I’m not, but let me know if I should be.”

John looks over at you and raises his brows, “Are you serious?”

“Uh,” you think it through for a few seconds.

“Because you know damn well that you have nothing to worry about,” he says, and you shrug. “Peach, you know you have nothing to worry about. I love you.”

You walk over to John and sit in his lap, “Let’s just hire both and see how it goes. If a month from now, it’s not going well, we’ll let one of them go.”

John lets out a small sigh and nods as he looks up at you, “Okay.”

Ronan squeals from her highchair and smacks her hands on the tray, and you smile as you look at her. Her face and hands are all sticky and covered in food, so you’re not even going to attempt to pick her up yet.

“Are you sure about this?”

You look back at John and hold his gaze, “Yes, I am.”

“Okay.” he nods and pats your thigh, “I trust you.”

“As you should!” you smile smugly, and John wraps his arms around you tight and pulls you closer to kiss your cheek. “Who gets to give this little bug her bath tonight?”

Ronan looks at you and John, then she smiles and smashes more food between her hands and stuffs it into her face--she’s absolutely filthy at this point. John chuckles and rests his cheek against your shoulder, then he hands a napkin to her. She simply looks at it for a moment, then stuffs more food into her face.

“She said no thanks, dad!” you laugh as you get up to get a washcloth. You walk back over and start to wipe her face off but she just cries and kicks her legs, “I know. I know you don’t like when we clean off your face.”

“Her face is so red,” John laughs, cleaning up the dinner plates on the table. He leans down and kisses the top of her head, then he walks over and starts loading the dishwasher, “So, are you going to the shop then?”

You nod, wiping Ronan’s hands off so you can at least get her out of the highchair, “Yeah, I think we should go out there for the first few days. I’m going to give them both a call later and let them know they got the job.”

“Hmm,” he hums, and you look over at him with your brows raised in question. “No, nothing. I just told Jimmy I’d help him with something tomorrow.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay. Just take Ro with you.” you say, setting Ronan on the floor. “I can handle it.”

John nods, “You sure?”

“Absolutely.” you smile as you walk over and kiss him, “I got it, Wick.”

“Okay,” he says softly, then he hugs you tight and kisses you again. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and looks deep into your eyes, “I love you.”

You start to laugh since he’s being so damn serious all of the sudden, “I love you too.”

John holds your gaze for a few intense moments, but he looks away when Ronan tugs on his jeans. He looks down at her and laughs, “Yeah, you need a bath.”

“I got it.”

Reaching down, you pick her up and kiss her cheek, but she reaches out for John. He takes her and hugs her tight and kisses her before she squeals loudly in his face, yanking on his beard.

“She might be a little hyper,” you laugh as you take her back, “I’m gonna get a bath started for her.”

John gently runs his hand from your shoulder down your back, “I’ll be up shortly.”

You furrow your brow a little, “What’s goin’ on with you?”

“Nothing,” he smiles sweetly, “I’ll be up soon.”

You squint your eyes playfully and turn around, stage whispering to Ronan, “Daddy is being so weird.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you see John laughing as he turns around and continues cleaning the kitchen.

__

Since you want to see how Rachel and Macie are doing, you decided to show up before they get to work. Rachel opens today and Macie will be in around 2 this afternoon. From the sounds of it, they’re both doing really well and fitting right in! It’s nice that they’re being welcomed with open arms here.

You quickly unlock the door and lock it behind you otherwise people will try to come in, then you head down to the office. There are several things on the desk that need to be put away, so you grab them and take them to the filing room that is around the corner.

“Oh my god…” you groan a little when you see the room is a little messy. This room always gets so damn messy. You open the filing cabinet and begin to organize everything since it desperately needs it.

You organize the invoices and other things, getting completely caught up in it until you realize you’ve lost track of time and hear Rachel coming down the stairs. You put things away and get up to close the cabinet up when you hear her voice.

“Okay, no one is here, but he’s literally so gorgeous, I can’t believe it.” she laughs as she walks into the office, “I think he’ll be in today.”

You perk up a little with a smile on your face. Rachel totally has a crush on someone here.

“I haven’t seen him in a few days, but I don’t know, I just think he’ll be in today.” she says, then she’s quiet like she’s listening to whoever is on the phone, “No, no, remember I went on a few dates with him. Things just weren’t right at the time, but I’ve been checking his Instagram a lot lately and he hasn’t posted much of his wife or daughter--oh my god, I did too! I told you he was married.”

Furrowing your brow, you inch towards the door more and listen in. There’s no one here who is married and has a baby except…no, no, it can’t be.

“Yes! But he hasn’t posted much of her lately. He posts his daughter, but not his wife that much anymore.” she says, and your heart sinks to your stomach.

You reach into your back pocket for your phone and go to John’s Instagram. His last picture of you was from two weeks ago, but to be fair he hasn’t posted anything lately. You haven’t either. It’s only been pictures or videos on your story. John has no idea how to work that.

Rachel. It clicks. The moment you close Instagram. It clicks. Rachel was the girl John dated right before he met you. The one who wouldn’t take no for an answer until he blocked her one night.

“Whenever he’s here, she isn’t. I think they’re having trouble.”

You roll your eyes and whisper to yourself, “No, we take turns coming out here because we have a fucking baby and don’t like lugging her back and forth if it’s not necessary.”

That’s it. This is the craziest shit that has ever happened to you. This is crazier than anything that has happened in your relationship. Finding out the sweet guy you were dating was John Wick? Yeah, crazier than that. Well, kind of. That was pretty insane.

“Yeah, I think he knew. I mean, he looked at me when I came into the office, then he got up and left, so I think he knew. I mean, it’s not like he’d forget me! When he was here the other day, another girl was with him, so I didn’t talk to him.” she says, and you furrow your brow, “I think it’s his sister-in-law.”

Tess would go feral if she knew that Rachel worked here.

“Do you think I should talk to him?” she says, then it goes silent for a few minutes, “Well regardless of his wife, I’m going to talk to him. I saw him looking at me, so…”

You roll your eyes so hard that they hurt. Absolute bullshit.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know how it goes.” she laughs, “Fingers crossed I get something from him by the end of the day. I’ll keep you posted. Okay, bye.”

Time to be petty.

You slam the door behind you and walk to the office, and Rachel looks up and smiles until she realizes it’s you. The smile fades quickly from her face.

“Oh, hey, I didn’t realize you were here.”

“I didn’t think so,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the door frame.

Rachel is nervous, you can tell.

“Is John here today?”

You shake your head, “Nope, just me. So, uh, are you going to pretend like I didn’t hear that whole conversation?”

“I didn’t know you were here.”

“Oh, so if you knew I was here, you would have just waited until I was…what? Upstairs? Not here?” you raise your brows, “You would have just waited until I wasn’t here and John was, so you could…let me quote you, ‘get something’. Whatever that means.”

Rachel stares at you for a few minutes before she sighs and narrows her eyes a little, “He never posts about you.”

“He hasn’t posted anything, Rachel. And believe it or not, our lives don’t revolve around social media. John doesn’t give a shit about that stuff. He posts pictures because he knows our family and friends like to see pictures of us and our daughter, but if he deleted it tomorrow, he wouldn’t miss it. He doesn’t care about that stuff.” you say, and she rolls her eyes, “You can be mad all you want, but I don’t care. Our relationship is not measured by how often we post pictures of each other. What John and I have is real. It’s not something that we just flaunt on social media for people to see. How we feel about each other is real and it’s something very fucking important to not only me, but to him.”

“Well, when he’s here--”

“Rachel…” you stare at her, “We’re at work. We keep it professional. He isn’t going to bend me over the desk and fuck me. We have a business to run. We wait until we’re closed to do that.”

Maybe you added in that last part just to piss her off. It absolutely works.

“He was mine first,” she seethes.

You start to laugh, shaking your head, “He was never yours. He went on a--”

“Three!” she holds up three fingers, “We went on three dates! Then you came along.”

“I am so confused right now.” you put your hand on your head and look up at her, “You just decided out of no where to apply here?”

Rachel shrugs, “I saw that he wasn’t posting about you anymore, so I figured he was single.”

“But when you saw me here, that should have been your answer. You should have turned around and went home! He’s not interested! He never was. I hate to break it to you but he never was!”

“He was! We went out!”

You tilt your head back and laugh, “Rachel, holy shit. It’s been how long? We’ve been together for almost three years! We’re married and have a baby. We are the happiest we’ve ever been right now!”

“People get divorced all the time.”

“But we’re not. Because we’re happy together. Because John is happy with me.” you say but she just stares at you. You’re being way too nice, you realize, so you decide to put it as brutally honest as you can, “John is not interested. If hell froze over and we got divorced for some reason, he still wouldn’t be interested. He didn’t like you! He went out with you twice--it was twice, Rachel--because he was new to the dating game and because he’s nice. He wanted to give you a second chance but you blew it! He met me and I am what he wanted and needed. I still am, and I always will be. You won’t change that. No one ever will.”

Rachel finally breaks away from your gaze and looks down, “Well, then he’s stupid.”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes, “Get your shit, leave your keys, you’re fired. You cannot sit here in my fucking shop and talk to me like that. I’m your boss. I own this shop.”

“You can’t fire me without John’s approval. He owns the shop, not you. You can’t do this.”

You walk to the desk and lock eyes with her, “Watch me. Get your shit and leave. Now.”

Rachel tosses her shop keys onto the desk and grabs her purse, walking to the door. You stand with your back to her until you hear her stop, and you turn around to look at her.

“When he divorces you, he’ll reach out to me. They always do.”

You scoff and let out a laugh, “Okay, Rachel. I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of.”

She turns back and heads upstairs, so you follow behind to make sure she doesn’t cause a scene or anything since some staff are getting here. Her heels clack on the wooden floor as she walks to the front door, and you hold your breath until she leaves, hurrying down the crowded street.

You finally let out a big breath and feel your entire body shaking with adrenaline and anger. So much anger.

“Mrs. Wick…”

You jump when Maya’s voice comes from behind you, “Oh my god, I didn’t know you were here.”

“I…I heard you two talking, so…” her eyes soften, “Is everything okay?”

“Um,” you nod your head and look down at your shaking hands, “Yeah, yeah, I think so. You know how to open, right?”

Maya nods her head, “Of course.”

“Macie will be in soon, so…” you walk aimlessly around before turning back to her, “Um…”

“Mrs. Wick, I think you should go home.” she says, reaching out to touch your arm, “Or at least sit down.”

You nod your head as you look at her, then you head back downstairs. As soon as you plop down, you get your phone out and send a text to Macie to ask if she can come in an hour early--she immediately answers and says yes. You grab your purse and keys before you head out to your car.

Not only was Rachel being dishonest, John’s been lying to you.

__

You’re beyond pissed right now. Rachel obviously kept it a secret that she knew John, but she slipped up. John hasn’t even mentioned it to you that he knew her. You feel so stupid. You advocated for her! You rallied for her to get hired as well. Yes, John wasn’t on board with it, really, but still. At any moment, he could have told you that he knew her, and he should have.

Taking a deep breath, you walk into the house and see John sitting on the couch. He perks up when he sees you and smiles wide.

“Hey, you’re back early.” he smiles, setting the remote on the coffee table, “I’m glad. I was missing you.”

You set your purse in the chair and toss your keys onto the table while John watches you closely. It doesn’t take him long to figure out something is wrong.

“What happened?”

“Well, I had to fire Rachel.” you say as you look at him, holding his gaze, “I think you can probably guess why.”

John inhales deeply and scoots to the edge of the couch, “I didn’t tell you because--”

“No, no, no, I don’t want excuses. You didn’t tell me. That’s it. You didn’t tell me.” you shake your head, “I don’t need your excuse as to why. The problem is that you didn’t tell me. So while I’m sitting here saying how great I think she is, how she’ll be a good asset to the shop, you sat there completely silent and let me look like a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.” he says, reaching for your hand, but you pull away.

“John! You fucking knew the woman and went out with her! Like, you realize how stupid that makes me look?” you hold his gaze when he looks at you, “How would you feel if we hired someone I dated?”

John shrugs, “If we talked about it…”

“Stop! You would not be okay with it.”

“I would be!”

You scoff, “So, you think I’m overreacting then? Since you’d be so cool with someone I dated working at the shop.”

“No, I just think…” he stops and shrugs as he looks at you, “I just don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Well, I don’t care what you want right now, unfortunately. I’m mad, I’m embarrassed. I don’t trust you right now. But you know what? I’m allowed to feel those emotions, so let me feel them.” you say as he looks away, “My husband has lied to me and pretended not to know someone he’s dated and someone who has completely disrespected me. I didn’t forget how she’d comment on your posts--even on pictures I was in--and ask to go out again. I remember all of that! I’m tired of pretending like it didn’t hurt my feelings, because it fucking did! I get that it was almost three years ago, and I am over it, but I never really brought it up. I hated how you didn’t defend me and call her out. You just left her comments there. It made me look stupid.”

John just looks down at his hands, “I didn’t…I don’t know what to do in these situations. I’d never been in this type of situation before. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

You sigh loudly, “I’m really upset, John, and I’m trying so hard not to cry right now because I’m so hurt by what she did this morning.”

He immediately looks up at you, his expression changing to genuine concern, “What did she do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now! Right now, I just want to be left alone so I can calm down a little. I’m really fucking upset and I’m only not yelling because Ro is sleeping.”

John nods his head and exhales, “First off, I am so incredibly sorry. Of course I don’t want you to be mad at me, but I will respect your wishes and let you be upset with me even though everything inside of me is screaming to fix it right this minute. I know I can’t. I know you’re not ready, so I won’t try. I’ll give you the space you need so you can do what you need to do. But just know that the second you’re ready to talk, I’m here and I’ll apologize as many times as you need me to.”

If there’s one thing John understands, it’s needing space to calm down.

“I appreciate that, I really do.”

John stands up from the couch and cautiously walks towards you. He just lightly touches your arm and presses a kiss to the top of your head. It’s just something sweet to let you know he understands and he’s ready to talk when you are.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready,” he whispers, then he turns and heads into the kitchen.

Your chin wobbles as you walk to the side patio door and step outside, heading down to the lake. You sit down on the dock and wait a few seconds to make sure John hasn’t followed you. It’s only when you realize that you’re alone that you let yourself cry into your hands.

__

taglist: @sakurachan-9 @beingnerdyissupercool @tnu-ree @ruby-octo @scream-queen-25 Lemme know if u want to be added! the tagging system is kind of weird lately so let me know if this works or not lmao

[saecookie]

WAIT I DID NOT REGISTER THAT HE WAS KISSIN WILLEM DAFOE IN THE FANART?? ok tell me ab ur blorbos in John Wick. The only thing I know is that Keanu Reeves gets mad and kills people over killing his dog or something but I have no idea how they made multiple movies ab that. Hit me

Oh Sunni darling Sunni how i love you. First off, note that when I went on my rb spree after watching the last movie, i looked for Dafoe gifset especially, because I adore his character but also as a nudge nudge will Sunni? Imma rb them again once I've posted this.

Vague spoilers ahead for the basics of each movie.

So basically, John = was the very best of them all assassins, like, bedtime story for baby assassins who've been naughty. retired bc he became a tadam husband to his wife he loves dearly. life is a bitch, wifey dies of illness. john broken. A LITTLE PUPPY DETS DELIVERED TO HIS DOOR! turns out wifey arranged for it knowing he'd need something to keep going on.

As you know, dog gets killed. bad things* ensues. (*bad things = vengeance. but no! i'm not getting out of retirement, just, vengeance.) The movies are hysterically funny to me because they are GOLD at stating that John Wick truly is fucking feared among his peers, everyone is scared shitless when they hear "X killed John's dog, we're fucked" "But we're 56 and he's 1!" "nah we're fucked"

Second film is "oh I heard you're out of retirement turns out you owe me the big one assassin favour the moral code forces you to return" "but i don't want to i was just avenging MY PUPPY" "yes but you have to" it's peak "don't make me do this you're gonna regret it" Also featuring characters I adore, in Gianna d'Antonio and her friend/bodyguard Cassian, that i hc as John "assassin childhood/school friends" because I can.

Third movie is "the one climax from the 2nd movie is the capital assassin offence, no everyone is after you, try to get out of this one" and he does try. it's one big chase featuring yet again people fanboying over John Wick.

Out of the three movies, the first is the most balanced out one, like there is nothing bad to say about this movie it's a fucking banger. The second one's flaw is that it wants to make a second movie so one plot point seems a bit blind to me, but other than that, very funny and OH so pleasing, like there is a not to Enter the Dragon's mirror scene, like a whole fighting scene is in a museum and it's incredible, featuring a deaf character speaking ASL. The third one's flaw is that it's a chase; if you don't mind that it's ok, but it never stops so it's sometimes a bit tiring bc boom boom noises and lights.

The movies are GOLDEN, for who likes me loves action and figth scenes, those are incredibly choregraphed (not surprising from Chad Stahelski aka stuntman, stunt coordinator on Matrix, stunt for Reeves in Matrix, double for Brandon Lee in The Crow 😉).

There are some great characters (i'm getting there), with notably the Receptionist of the Hotel (hotel = big assassin lore point, it's a hotel franchise for assassins, where you pay with assassincoins, and it's "sacred ground" ie = when you're there, no business. everyone is your colleague, it's basically saying PAUSE from the assassin game), but also the barwoman that i adore, the director of the Hotel, Winston, Aurelio the mecanic who's my baby, AND

Marcus (Dafoe). Marcus is a character in the first movie. We don't know much about him (as for basically every character in the franchise : the show don't tell is excellent), beside the fact that he's an old friend/colleague of John. What i'm gonna say next is spoilery for the first movie but I guess you're here for that. We first see him attending from afar John's wifey funeral, and at the end coming to greet warmly John. Then in the first movie, someone puts a contract on John's head, an open one, but the sponsor also asks Marcus personnally bc he's one of the "old" generation, one who survived because he's one of the best. There's an exchange around "no problem killing your old buddy" "for 3M nah" and then he chases John all through the movie. And every time he points his sniper at him, someone is already there to try and kill him, so Marcus either kills the first killer or disturb the scene so that nobody else kills him. Throughout the movie we gather that he's not having an ego trip of "i want it to be ME who kills him" but rather that he accepted because he's a sniper and he just... towers bloody guardian angel John. We don't know why except for the fact that they were old friends, but what transpires is really some warm empathy/compassion/feeling sorry for him and wanting the best for him.

So i guess i just wanted some more content for their friendship but shipping them a way or another in their youth, i'm here for it. comet partners as for my own hc, but to each their own you know. They are so well paired and the movies are just so well directed, i swear, all the characters you can feel that they're not thinly written. THAT'S IT FOR THE BLORBOS and other SCRUNGLOS feel free to ask it's my current brain goes brrrrrrrrrrrrr.

[hard-to-be-the-bard]

John Wick x Modern!Reader Part 2

tbh no one asked for a part 2 this is just self indulgent :)

Warnings: Language, violence, smidge of angst if you look close enough

The next few weeks past in the same way

Waking up early, training with John, have dinner, go to bed sore

But you figured John had grown to actually enjoy your company, there were no more forced smiles

He’d make jokes, say good night or good morning before you got a chance

But today he came into the kitchen looking serious and you paused, looking at him

“You okay?” You ask, and he frowns slightly

“I have a job” He says, and you nod, knowing what he means

“Oh right, how long will you be gone?” You ask, nervous, and he sighs

“A few days, a week, or two at most” He informs you and you nod.

He hesitates for a split second

“Look, in case something happens I need you to be prepared” He says, and you watch him, frowning

“Do you think something will happen?” You ask

“I don’t know” He finally says, and you nod

“So, what’s the plan?” You ask, trying to make light of the situation, but he actually tells you

“You’ll sleep in my room” He says, and you pause before he explains

“It has the thickest door, hardest to break down, there are two guns in the top chest of drawers, with ammunition, the door to the right, leads directly to the garage, I’ll leave the car unlocked, the keys on the driver’s seat ready, I’ll set the GPS. It’ll take you to Aurelio’s garage, tell him I sent you, that something went wrong, and I asked him to take care of you until I get back, I can trust him” He says, and pulls out a gold coin, and presses it into your hand

“Give this to him” He says, and you nod, knowing what it is

“But- What if he doesn’t believe me” You ask, and John pauses, before his attention falls on a polaroid camera, and he picks it up

“Here, smile” He says, and holds it up

You do as he says and the photo is soon coming out the end, which he takes and shakes before handing it to you

“You can’t forge polaroid's” He says, and you look at the photo. The both of you smiling.

You nod, pocketing it

“When are you leaving?” You ask, and he almost looks regretful

“Now” He says, and you pause

“Oh, okay” You say, and he looks at you

“You’ll be fine” He says, and you smile at him

“Don’t die” You whisper, and he almost chuckles

“I’ll try my best” He says, and says goodbye before he leaves, and you wave slightly before lowering you hand and letting out a deep breath

You’d just have to remember to double check all the doors are locked.

It had been 2 days since John left, and a noise woke you.

You turned to glance at the clock. 2:02am, and you frowned, and you heard the noise again, a bang, from down the hallway

Your heart leapt in it’s chest, as you scrambled out of bed, rushing to the door, locking it as you stepped back, heading towards the drawers where John said the gun was

And it was there

You picked it up shakily, and pocketed the ammunition, checking the gun was off safety. You looked around on the top of the drawer for the coin John had given you, and you grabbed a jacket, tugging it on, and putting the coin in the zip up pocket, before hastily grabbing the polaroid, and your phone.

Another bang could be heard and you cursed under you breath, before heading out the back door to the garage, and you heard John’s bedroom door attempt to open, then voices, you were running now, and you reached the garage, and saw the car.

He’d left the Mustang, you presumed it was more noticeable, you fumbled with the door handle and you heard footsteps, when the garage door burst open, a man with a gun pointing it at your head, you scrambled for you own gun and lifted it, pulling the trigger before he could and he fell to the ground.

You took a deep breath in, getting in the car, hands shaking as you pushed the key into the ignition turning it, the car humming to life

The garage door opened quickly, and you were glad, as more men entered the garage, shooting at the car.

Your foot was on the accelerator quickly, and you were soon following the GPS, and you prayed they hadn’t followed

Checking in the rear view mirror no one was there. and you let out a sigh of relief

15 minutes later you were at the garage, and you pulled in, noticing the front was still open and the light was on, you let out a thankful sigh, noticing the time, and you pulled up inside.

Aurelio had seen the car pull in, and he knew who it belonged too, and as he waited for John to step out he frowned when he was greeted with someone else.

“You-You’re Aurelio” You stutter, and he nods

“Who are you? And where did you get that car?” He asks, and you take a deep breath in, tears welling in your eyes as you reached into your pocket

“John sent me” You say, and he frowns again

“Why should I believe you?” He asks, and you pulled out the photo and coin, handing it to him, which he took, raising a brow at the image of you two

“Why’d he send you?” He asks, and you take in a deep breath again

“I- He’s on a job I- Someone broke into the house- He told me- He told me to come here if something happened” You explained, and Aurelio cursed,

“Anyone follow you?” He asked, and you shook your head

“Alright come on” He says, before shouting to one of the men working

“Ey close the front and take the car round back, cover it up” He says, and beckons you to follow him

He takes you inside his office, and tells you to take a seat, which you did

“You ain’t part of all John’s shit are you?” He asks, and you shake your head

“You got a gun on you?” He asks, and you nod, he watches for a second, noticing the way you trembled

“You had to use it didn’t you? He dead?” He asks, and you nod, he sighs, reaching out a hand, and you hesitantly place the gun in his hand

“You won’t be needing this, I’ll keep you safe until John gets back, do you know when he’ll be back” He looks at you

“He said a few days to a week, two max, it’s been 2 days” You tell him and he nods

“Aight well, we’ll put ya to work”

John knew something was wrong the minute he stepped into the house.

It was midday, 12:20, and you always made dinner at this time, religiously, but there was no noise from the kitchen, and no smell of food.

He pulled his gun out

“Y/N?” He called, but there was no response

He cursed, heading swiftly towards him room, and almost froze when he saw the caved in door

“Fuck” He said, heading out the back door of his bedroom, towards the garage, pausing at the body on the floor, noticing his missing car

At least you’d gotten out, he thought

So he turned around, heading back to his car

He knew where you were

His car pulled into Aurelio’s and the man turned his head as John stepped out, and he was quick to be by his side

“Where is she? Is she here?” He asked, and Aurelio noticed the almost frantic state he was in

“She’s here, she’s fine John” He said, and called your name

“Y/N!” He shouts, and your head popped up from behind a car hood, a mark of grease smeared across your cheek

“Yea?” You asked, but faltered when you saw John

You’d never moved faster, practically throwing yourself into his chest as you wrapped your arms around his.

He paused for a second before wrapping his arms back around you

“You’re back” You breathe, and he nods

“You alright?” He asks, and you nod, pulling back

“I’m okay” You say, and Aurelio beckons for John to follow him to his office. You were about to follow before John presses a hand on your shoulder

“Stay” He whispers and you nod, and watch him walk away

You know they’re talking about you, and when John emerges again, he motions for you

“I’m taking you somewhere safe” He says, and you frown

“Where?” You ask, and he looks at you, getting in the car and you follow

“The continental”