#John Wick x Helen

[johnwickb1tsch]

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you say?" you ask.

"I called him a bitch."

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

"What? He said it first."

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

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

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

Gun oil, you realize.

It's been a long time.

"Is everything OK?"

Now you are beginning to worry.

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

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

It was a wedding present.

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

You are not half as horrified as you should be.

You have not seen that suit in a long time.

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

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

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

[zimtlove]

The light of his life

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

[meetmeinthematinee]

Oh Hey, remember I used to write John Wick stuff?

Check out my Masterlist!

Guaranteed no spoilers for Wick 4 since....I haven't written anything in quite a while but I've been eyeballing my WIPS again my friends and maybe just maybe......

[romangoldendreams]

With every look he got from her he only got her soul broken into pieces, her fragility not hidden, that porcelain doll facade, helpless, broken.

She was weak, and they both knew it. She was intelligent and determined in her work, for everything in life, but not for problems or difficult situations. All of her was torn from top to bottom, and depression, sadness and everything that makes up the word strength disappeared from her person. She totally lacked the energy that he had, and it was precisely because of that weakness and disability that she openly showed that made him fall in love with her, lose himself in her gaze, in that tattered body, and heal his soul stained by fear, broken by injuries, because she was coward while he was brave enough for both.

[lycheeloving]

trying my hand at John Wick texts. broadening my horizons, etc

[thewhumpcaretaker]

omg pleaseeee make the living weapon comfort prompts

Okay I will! ^_^

Living Weapon Hurt Prompts, from last time

💥 Living Weapon Comfort 💥

So, how do you comfort someone who has been taught not to even view themselves as anything more than a tool for violence?

Caretaker shows whumpee the everyday parts of life - going to the movies, baking cookies together, going grocery shopping, etc. This is especially important if they never had a childhood.

Caretaker encourages whumpee to get a regular, civilian job, or better yet, pursue the dreams were forced to give up.

Caretaker reminds whumpee that their own pain matters. When they get injured or sick, they can take a day off. They're allowed painkillers. It's not about whether they can stand up and keep fighting efficiently, it's about their comfort.

Whumpee confesses the full extent of what they were forced to do. They've never told anyone this before and break down while talking about it.

Caretaker reframes what happened, points out the abuse that they couldn't see at the time, and reassures them that it was not their fault.

Caretaker praises whumpee for showing emotion, for acting gentle, for singing, for showing weakness. In those moments, Caretaker protects whumpee from anyone who would judge them.

Caretaker is very careful about how they move and how they touch whumpee, because whumpee can panic if it feels like someone is about to put them in a chokehold, pull a gun, etc.

Caretaker supports whumpee through nightmares and flashbacks, even if whumpee becomes aggressive in that half-aware state.

Whumpee visits the people they've hurt or the families of those they've killed, and tries to make amends in some small way. It's not enough, nothing could ever be enough, but they are forgiven anyway.

"I love you no matter what you've done. You want to know the honest truth? Even if you were really, deep down, responsible for all of it...I'd still love you."

Caretaker trusts whumpee with tasks that require gentleness, like babysitting, teaching, healing, or leadership roles.

When someone expresses that they don't trust whumpee or that whumpee should be punished, Caretaker chews them out privately. "They're not dangerous. They were being controlled. The things they did...that's not who they are."

Whumpee is afraid that their conditioning is too strong to break, so Caretaker promises to restrain whumpee if they act dangerously. "But I know you won't. I trust you."

Whumpee DOES get triggered and get violent, but Caretaker assures them that they haven't lost their progress. They are still getting better, it just takes time.

[greenmanalishi]

*CHAPTER 4 SPOILER*

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

John Wick falls in love.

And everyone thinks, “oh, this girl must be a total badass. A ruthless woman with a heart of iron and an ability to tame even the most beastly of mankind.”

Except then they meet her, the wispy ray of sunshine holding a bouquet of wildflowers freshly picked from her homegrown garden, smiling and leaning up to steal a kiss from her dark, brooding shadow, and… Did John Wick just blush? Did John Wick just smile and nuzzle into the warm neck of a giggling, delicate woman in a sundress?

Yes. Because after a lifetime of pain and agony, after he’s already accepted this fate of brutality and death and darkness, after the only touch he’s known is hard and unforgiving, Helen appears like a ray of light. And she is soft. So soft. All teasing touches and playful kisses and laughing while burying him in the sand.

Silly little games and tickle fights and ancient, perishing fairytale books wrapped in blue shiny ribbon waiting in his front seat after he tells her he’s always wanted to restore them. Holding him, always holding him—his rough, ugly scared hands that she insists are beautiful. His bruised cheeks. She wraps herself around him in a protective cocoon—his bright little guardian fending off the oppressive, terrifying, massive darkness—shushing him back to sleep, scaring the nightmares away with her sweet reassuring whispers.

Loving him, not in spite of, but for everything he is. Never being afraid of him. Giggling while he growls, batting her eyelashes and sticking out her tongue and only screaming with laughter when he gets her. Rolling her eyes when someone trembles in his presence, when she hears the rumors about his merciless and ruthless nature. Putting him in funny poses for photographs in the park, on their couch, in his car.

Praising him, always praising him. Hailing his good deeds and achievements so intensely that all he can do is stammer and stiffen and look away when it gets overwhelming, when he doesn’t know what to do with all of that abundant love she’s giving him so freely. All of that abundant love he didn’t even know existed.

Helen is so different from everything, so kind and forgiving and loving. He doesn’t deserve her, doesn’t mean to fall in love with her so quickly, doesn’t want to dim her heavenly light with his looming past, and certainly doesn’t expect the opposite…

Because now, he smiles more than frowns, laughs more than wails, kisses more than bites, caresses more than punches.

Because now, John Wick falls in love with the warm, ever-burning hearth that is his Helen, and she sets his world on bright, brilliant, beautiful fire.

[kavalyera]

i love how in scenes where john wick thinks about his wife, there’s always either light or the color grading turns into yellow/gold

helen will always be symbolized through sunlight/light because SHE is john’s light. the reason for his defiance against the high table and the reason he is so disciplined into getting the freedom he deserves away from the criminal underworld

[johnwickb1tsch]

( most y/n fics are fem gender but [attempted] no real mention of specific appearance, race, body type) ✨️=COMPLETE!

The Night Nurse - John x Helen CH 1 │ CH 2 │ CH 3 │ CH 4 │ CH 5 │ CH 6 │ CH 7 │ CH 8 CH 9. CH 10. │ A03

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) - John x Helen'sSister!Reader fic │ Part 1 │Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 A03

John x Helen'sSister!Reader Imagine✨️ John Wick x Tarasov'sDaughter!Reader Imagine✨️ Constantine x Reader x John Wick Imagine✨️ Young!John Wick & Model!Reader Imagine part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4✨️ John x Wife!Reader Fix it Imagine✨️

BITTERSWEET

Yandere!John x fem!reader coffee shop au (this totally turned into a fic) All Chapters

gentleman john wick headcanon✨️

just a warm up drabble✨️

bodyguard!Wick x shy!curvy!student!fem!Reader fic✨️

OTHER KEANUVERSE CHARACTERS:

THE GIRL NEXT DOOR- Constantine x Vampire!Reader (ft John Wick/BRZRKR) + Don John Fic ALL CHAPTERS ✨️COMPLETE!✨️-- BONUS: the deleted scene

Constantine x Vampire!Reader Neighbor Imagine✨️

Donaka Mark x MartialArtist!Reader Imagine ✨️

Donaka Mark x Secretary!Reader Imagine✨️

THE DEVILS' TRIANGLE - Tex Johnson x Reader x John Wick (x Constantine) Yandere Collab with the diabolical @treedaddymcpuffpuff & @sweetwolfcupcake *so many dead doves here be warned...* Original Imagine COVER Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5. Part 6 Part 7. Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

EXCESSIVE FORCE - Tom Ludlow x Nurse!Reader collab w the AMAZING @treedaddymcpuffpuff CHAPTER MAP

THE BASTARD'S MISTRESS - a don John x servant!Reader fic✨️

break me, softly - a Jack Traven x fem!NurseReader fic✨️

Vino Veritas - A Frank x Reader Destination Wedding Fic PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 EPILOGUE ✨️NOW COMPLETE!😛✨️ CHAPTER MAP

peep toe pumps - a kevin lomax x femSecretary!reader fic✨️

Andar Conmigo - A Walk in the Clouds Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John Fic Chapter Map bonus: don john's charro suit ✨️complete!✨️

enigmatic stranger - young!john wick x fem!reader collab fic w sweetwolfcupcake & treedaddymcpuffpuff pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4

young!Constantine x witch!Reader imagine in India Pt 1

Sympathy for the Devil - Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic ALL CHAPTERS

naughty neo x reader drabble✨️

🌻Small Town Girl ~ a Tex Johnson x Reader fic (Donnie Barksdale mentioned) Pt 1 Pt 2

rager. a donaka mark x reader x john wick oneshot. 6500 words.

Some drabbles/outlines/imagines: US Marshall!Reader x Donnie Barksdale revenge fic snippet When John Met Helen fic outline assassin!Reader x John Wick fic outline john wick x reader x helen threesome imagine

BOTS

-Donaka Mark - He's your security consultant.

-Donaka Mark - You meet on a yacht.

-Martin Loader - He wants to run away with you. (From Tune In Tomorrow)

[feinv]

Going insane currently thinking about JW getting that same intense, unwavering look of focus he gets when he’s working when you (reader/helen) cum, especially when he’s using his hands.

He doesn’t even know he’s doing it, looking that way, he’s just so intent on making you cum and feel good. He is a man of precision and skill and intense will, and he will use it to make you feel as good as absolutely possible.

Im going to go eat drywall

-H

dom!john wick x fem!reader. fingering.

you heard the stories of him being the man of focus, commitment, and sheer will. but unfortunately, or in this case quite fortunately, you have never seen john match the stories assigned to him. but as your relationship grew more intimate and his feelings for you more intense, you would catch him looking at you with an expression which was hard to describe.

his face was emotionless, yet you could make out an unstoppable drive on his features. like pleasuring you was his mission and he would go beyond his morals to accomplish it.

the dimly lit room accentuated his dark features, making him look like a sin.

“you look intimidating,” you half-chuckled, whispering, as his face was inches away from yours, his one arm stretched in between your legs.

“are you intimidated?” his baritone voice questioned, eyes landing on yours with a wicked glint.

“should i-” your sentence was cut by a moan as he added another finger, curling them in your tight walls “…should i be?”

“depends on what you do, sweetheart.” you felt his teeth dig into your neck, slowly but harshly sucking on your soft flesh, pumping his fingers in an out in an unwavering pace.

you couldn’t stop your whines when he was knuckles deep inside of you, the tip of his fingers brushing against your cervix, his other thumb drawing circles on your sensitive bud.

“aren’t you a good girl?” it took you five seconds to register his question in your fucked up state, nodding your head and mewling a barely audible yes.

“then you have nothing to worry about,” he slammed his digits harder and faster in an unrelenting rhytm before you gushed all over his fingers with a loud moan, coating him in your sticky arousal.

[writinginatree]

Nightmare Time is Story Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, but don't elaborate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"In the shelf opposite my bed."

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

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

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

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

"Daaad! I'm not a baby!"

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

"I don't need a teddy anymore!"

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

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

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

[persephone411]

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

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

Now I wanna cry

[snowflakeanimelover]

Relationship: John Wick x Female Reader

Fandom: John Wick

Warnings: John’s POV, attempted attack, slight force, self loathing, more fear, crying, non-con touching(not explicit), reader needs a hug, John is kind of delusional, John is depressed

Note: I made a really cool title banner for this story, but the gif was too big to put on here (T-T) so its just a regular boring pic. Oh well, it still looks cool. Anyway, thank you for the lovely support! Super happy people are liking this. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated :D

Also, I am aware I repeat things. I have a bad habit of doing that, and I am really trying not to. So, apologies if you see repeated stuff or info.

────────༺♰༻────────

Chapter 2 | …

────────༺♰༻────────

Never Again |3|

Seeing the dark grey Pit Bull did not seem to brighten John’s mood. His steps felt heavy as he walked down the spiral staircase and onto the main floor of his large, fancy home. The weight on his shoulders grew heavier as time passed. What the hell am I doing? he constantly asked himself. Yet, he didn’t seem to take any action to relieve himself of that burden.

John’s gaze landed on his slightly trembling hands, and he stared at them as if there were blood on them. Technically, there were years and years of blood on his hands from his grueling job, which he had now retired from. But now, all he could see was innocent blood. Although he hadn’t killed the woman and never would, his guilt lingered as if her blood were staining his hands. He had taken her without her consent, robbing her of her life. Her love for books, her love for talking to people—now he had her isolated, all for himself.

John reminded himself that he needed this; it was the only way for him to feel satisfied and to fill the void in his heart that Helen had left behind. Y/N was the only person who brought him peace of mind and warmth.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, he tore his gaze away from his hands and looked down at his new puppy. As soon as their eyes met, the puppy seemed happy—happy for the attention, happy to see his owner. If only Y/N responded that way.

She will soon enough.

“Hey, boy.” John slowly kneels down, grimacing slightly at his sore body and aching wounds, and rests his hand on the pit bull's head to pet him. “You’re a good boy, huh?” he says, as if the dog could respond.

After giving his dog a few minutes of attention, he pushes himself back up to his feet and straightens his black vest. It has been a few hours since he arrived home, and he figures it’s best to change into something more comfortable.

───༺♰༻───

By the time John had changed into his pajamas—dark grey sweatpants and a simple white T-shirt—and poured himself another cup of coffee, he could see the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon through his window.

The past few days have been hectic. He avenged the death of Daisy, the puppy his late wife gave him to help him grieve, and dealt with the theft of his car. In response, he had kidnapped a Pit Bull from the pound and a woman from her home. Now, he is finally back home. This time, he intended to stay retired and live a new life with his new dog and… new wife.

Well, maybe he shouldn’t call her his wife, yet.

John looks down at the Pit Bull he hasn’t thought to name yet, watching its tail wag back and forth in excitement. “Looks like I’ll need to train her too, huh, boy?” John chuckles, but the laughter lacks genuine feeling. It’s a dark joke, he realizes, considering Y/N as if she were his pet, too. However, that’s not the case. She may be a replacement for Helen, but she will soon become her own person whom he’ll love unconditionally.

Taking a sip of his coffee, John decided it was time to go back upstairs and check on her. He hadn't heard any loud noises—no crying, screams for help, thrown furniture, or banging on the door. It was too quiet.

Setting his mug down, John left the kitchen and walked up the spiral stairs with his puppy in tow. When he reached the bedroom door, which was now Y/N’s, he turned to his dog and pointed a stern finger. “Sit,” he commanded. To his surprise, the puppy obeyed. “Stay.” John was impressed but knew he would need to train the puppy further as time went on.

John unlocked the door, hearing it creak softly as it slowly swung open. The room was dark, but the large windows leading to the balcony let in enough morning light to reveal some details. As he took a few steps inside, he noticed that the bed was empty.

Before he knows it, something catches his attention from the left. Acting purely on instinct, years of training as an assassin and military service kick in. He swiftly grabs the arms descending towards him, his large, calloused fingers wrapping tightly around Y/N’s wrists. He forcefully moves them to the side, away from his head.

A loud crash sounds behind him, but he ignores it, shoving Y/N against the nearest wall with remarkable speed. Because she lacks training, he easily slams her back into the wall, caging her body with his own. He presses his arm against her chest to keep her there.

The pained gasp that escaped her lips caused his heart to ache as he realized what had just occurred. His dark eyes landed on her fear-filled ones. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were red from crying. She tried to fight against his strength but quickly gave up, knowing she wouldn’t win.

John hesitates as he glances to his side and sees a lamp on the floor. It suddenly becomes clear to him what happened. Y/N was hidden behind the wall near the door, and when he got within range, she attempted to attack him with the lamp. In a way, she’s clever. But she’s not clever enough for an assassin.

"I'm sorry," John hears her croak, and he looks at her face again. She is crying, mostly out of fear. Her apology seems to be instinctive; John can tell she’s worried that she may have angered him and that he might hurt her.

The thought alone made him feel nauseous. Now that he was calmer and assessing the situation, he slowly stepped back, easing the pressure he had been applying to her chest. He remained cautious, aware that she might attempt to attack again the moment he let his guard down. However, she didn’t make a move.

He watches as she slides against the wall, backing away to the far corner of the room, left of the bed, where she stands trembling. “Please don’t hurt me,” she sobs, her shoulders practically up to her ears as she huddles in the corner.

John furrows his brows at her words, then relaxes his posture, letting his arms hang by his sides. “I’m…” he starts, trying to find a way to reassure her. However, he knows it would be impossible. He kidnapped her, and she is terrified. She doesn’t understand what is happening or why she is there. She has no knowledge of his motives. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he finally says, taking another step back.

As John takes a step back, the heel of his foot brushes against something. Turning to look, he sees the lamp that she attempted to hit him with. It’s the lamp from one of the bedside tables. He steps over it to face Y/N while inspecting the damage. The bulb is broken, and one side of the lampshade is bent inward. Fortunately, it isn't completely ruined, so he can easily fix it.

The room was silent, except for the soft cries and hiccups of the girl hiding in the corner. Eventually, she slid down to the floor, sitting with her knees hugged to her chest. Was she scared that he would hurt her because she had tried to hit him? And because she had broken his lamp?

“It’s fine,” John mutters, picking up the broken lamp and forcing an awkward smile. “I can fix it. It’ll be an easy fix.” She doesn’t respond, just as he expected. His smile fades as he looks down at the lamp in his hands and the shards of glass scattered on the floor. “I’ll... be right back to clean this up. Please don’t step over here; there’s broken glass.” He felt so awkward, as if he had never spoken to a girl before. It was like talking to a scared child.

───༺♰༻───

It didn’t take him long to go grab a broom and a garbage bag. Y/N hadn’t moved once when he came back, and it…made his heart ache once more. Seeing her look so afraid because of him was starting to get a bit frustrating, but he knew he had to be patient. He couldn’t expect her to accept her new life. Hell, he was having a hard time accepting what he did.

Ever since he brought her here, his mind would constantly argue back and forth. About how kidnapping an innocent woman was wrong and he should let her go, while the other part of him wants her to stay because he deserves her. He deserved peace once more. Either way, he wanted it all to just shut off.

It felt like he was going insane just because of this one illegal action, when he has done many illegal things before.

It didn’t make sense. It was downright annoying the hell out of him.

John lets out a sigh, hearing the glass clink together as it's brushed onto the dustpan, and then dumped into the trash bag he brought. He made sure to sit where he could see her, watch her every move. After the stunt she pulled, he can’t say he trusts her right now.

Just as he finished cleaning up the broken glass, he noticed she had gotten quiet once more. Glancing up, John can see she had stopped crying, however still huddled up in the corner to keep the distance between them.

He wanted to scold her, be mad at her for trying to hurt him. But he never does, because he knows she’ll learn eventually what she can and can’t do. She’ll learn to love and respect him.

Again, he needs to be patient.

John stands up from the floor, the broom in one hand and the garbage bag in the other. “Are you, uh….” He clears his throat, not sure whether looking at her would freak her out or not. “Are you hungry? I can…bring some lunch or…” he gestures with his hands as he talks, despite them being full. His words ended openly, as if to invite her to answer or at least speak to him. When she continues to give him the silent treatment, he shrugs, giving up on trying for the day. It's the first day, she’ll come around eventually.

“I’ll just bring something up later,” he murmurs, desperate to get out of this awkward situation. Hesitantly, he stands there for a little longer, as if to wait in case she wants to say something. Then, he leaves the bedroom, locking the door right behind him.

Maybe food will make her feel more welcomed.

[slippinninque]

🍷Girl Time🎀

AU SCENE DROP

just some girls hanging out and having fun!

(in which John gets to be happy thus everyone is allowed to as well)

feat: Koji Shimazu x BlackFemReader, John Wick x Helen Wick, mentions of Sofia x Caine

warnings: MINORS DNI, 18 +, cursing, drinking, sexual themes, just-playing-around fic, long fic, author smoked a fattie pls forgive

"Helen!"

"I"m sorry--I needed the points!"

"Wha'd you meean? You're winning! I was an innocent bystander," You shouted after Sofia and Helen's twin screeches, "I didn't want to think of good brother John like that...damn..."

You watched as Sofia held her head in her hands after the assault of Helen's admission. The other woman, red to her ears, snorted and chortled into the game card in her hand.

"I mean, honestly....ya'll went to a class to learn that or something?"

Sofia yelled your name and you broke as you held up your hands as you cried out. Was it in defense? Was it surrender? You didn't know but you were having a grand time.

You don't know what possessed Sofia to get an erotic card drinking game to play for an impromptu girl's night in, ("Hey, it was all the Dollar Tree had! All I needed was to break a $50!") but it was proving to be more entertaining than you thought.

Slapping on a point system definitely heated things up. With every question you refuse to answer, meant taking a shot. A question quickly enough answered meant the other two ladies took a shot.

You spoke on Koji's behalf and Helen spoke on John's. Sofia answered from her experience and a few dalliances you weren't aware of before. Hell, if anyone blew your brows up--it wasn't just Helen.

Eventually, everyone just started taking shots and pulling cards in semi-consistent order. Cabinets were raided for snacks and chasers as liquor and wine was poured. It got to everyone answering the question or everyone seeming it too "boring". It was more of a...communal scaring of the minds. Good stuff.

Abs aching, cheeks hurting and eyes tearing--you looked at the meager pile of cards in your pile. You could not afford another double-shot. Not if you wanted to lose control of your laugh and have Koji think you were in danger if he and the men returned early from their own 'fun night'.

While you aren't sure of how much Helen knew, you didn't want to blow John's spot when you both were invited to spend girl time with Helen while the men caught up amongst themselves.

You and Sofia introduced yourselves as old friends who were in the entertainment industry. You were a party planner while Sophia was a beast in catering--the type of ladies who didn't spend their time selling their blades and bullets for favors and money.

"--irl, are you listening?" Sofia wiped her face with the edge of her shirt, "Pull a damn card!"

Helen fanned herself with her cards, still laughing and you felt yourself starting up again. You hurried to pull a card, you read it aloud.

"Costumes , lingerie, or nothing at all?"

The two other women visibly lost a bit of interest at one of the tamer questions of the evening.

"Oh, that's not so bad..."

"Yeah, I mean men--what?" Sofia caught the wander of your eye and the sudden itch that came to your elbow, "Spill it! What does Mr. Honor like? He's tied you up, at least."

"No! Well, yeah--but wait!" You shook your hands to level your own attention more than theirs, "That don't matter right now--

"Is it the costumes?" Helen picked up when Sofia reached to pour a shot of tequila, "What is it? Policewoman? Femme Fetal? Oh, a sexy pierrot clown--"

"Neither!"

"Neither?"

Helen narrowed her eyes at you and took a very talk to me type of sip of her wine-whisky and Sofia doubling back to mouth, pierrot? to herself.

"You might have to walk with me a bit with this one, Helen--Sofia, you should know. Remember that part in Fresh Prince of Bel-Air when Aunt Viv--

Sofia squinted her features and you corrected, "Erm, the first Aunt Viv. Remembered when The First Aunt Viv told Uncle Phil that she had something to knock his socks off?"

You deepened your voice and straightened your spine as you mimicked your man, "'I'm not wearing any socks, just come out naked' --and I love my man down, but he just don't be caring for that too much. My sweet Kojiji..."

"Oh wow...."

"Are you serious?"

"Mhm! Honestly but Koji still surprises me to this day. I'd be minding my own business and--

Helen slapped her hands together, "Pounce!"

You snapped and pointed at her, "Indeed! I could be in in a shower cap and Crocs and Koji's all over me!"

"Caine's ass is like that too, I wonder if it's a thing from their little wolf-pack thing they have going on." Sophia hummed thoughtfully

Your eyes wandered as you laminated out loud, "I still can't believe that this is how I found that out that y'all be... touchin'."

Sofia only licked her teeth and you faked gagged.

It was very much like finding out your best friend kissed your other best friend and neither told you about it. The high-school of it all made it more hilarious and you intended to milk this betrayal up until Sophia gifts you with a dish of her famous kefta mkaouara .

You refocused when Helen's giggle descended into a cackle. It was a contagious sound and soon the trio of you were set off again, going up an octave when Sofia ended up knocking over the pile of playing cards.

You were delighted that Helen found John. She would keep him good company, keep him grounded. Helen was firecracker when fucked up, and she was a good woman through and through when sober. They were a perfect match.

A stray memory darted across your mind as you reached for the bottle Sofia offered and you snorted quietly yourself.

Helen waved a finger as she took another swig of her wine-whisky mix, "What was that? Spill!"

"Its not even my turn, it's--

"Spill! Spill! Spill!"

You couldn't handle the pressure, you squealed into your hands as your secret pressed up against your teeth. Alcohol loosened your tongue and it was ready to tell your business. You matched Helen's crisscross and clapped your hands to gather your thoughts.

"Weeell....there was this job, in the Poconos of all places, that Koji did not want me to plan for. He didn't like the customer. Met him once before or something like that."

You refilled your cup and continued, carefully editing the bloodier parts of the true story for Helen's sake. Sofia watched you with knowing eyes but eager for the part of the story she wasn't already familiar with.

"I got it done, wasn't a big party but some of my best work. Everyone was taken care of and I ended up getting recommended to plan a few others." You grinned when Sofia who applauded you in snaps, "Put the client in his place on the way out and I got paid. He got what he asked for, another one bites the dust right? Good job, right? Wrong."

That sent Helen into crisscrossing in her seat, "But why?"

"Girl, guess who came to pick me up?"

"Anything but that..." Sofia's words were tucked into a laugh.

"Koji Thee Shimauzallion himself. And guess who else? Mhmm! Your hubby! That man was the only one who knew about it 'cause he was my damn ride!"

Sofia shuffled the deck of playing cards as she thought out loud, "I think I remember this, Caine felt caught in the middle or some other Brotherhood of the Travelling Henley or something..."

Helen gestured for you to handle her the bottle you obliged as she fussed, "How dare he? You're his bro too and women wear Henleys He can't just rat you out like that!"

"Damn fucking right we do and thank you for saying so! Ah... right! I pack all my equipment up and have my little walk of shame to the car. John's driving and Koji is in the front seat, he never sat apart from me, so I'm thinking shit he's really pissed."

"Mind you this was before we were serious-serious, I just liked him a lot at this point. That's important to the story."

Sofia nods, "Of course! 'course."

"Right, right." Helen hummed.

"So. Here we are. John giving me a sorry buddy-ass stare in the rearview, Koji looking out the window and shit lookin' like he 'bout to tell me pack my denman brush and go and I'm low-key pissed because I was having a good night..."

You had to take a breath from your ramble to laugh. You don't know why you did it, but you took a pour from Helen when she forgot to put the bottle back onto the table.

"He tells me how disappointed he was that I would so such a thing and put myself at risk and dootdootdoot," Sofia chuckled at casual your skipping through dirty details, "I tell him I'm grown and I can ki--handle, handle anybody who needs it, he aint' trying to listen..."

You took a breath and scratched your eyebrow, "We're actually starting to have our first argument at this point! We tell we both tell the other didn't like it, but it was new and it was angry and..."

A dramatic pause for effect had Helen leaning in her seat and Sofia posing to throw a peanut at you.

"Kojitoremyassouttheframe," You let it rush out of you in a sigh as you remembered the only fight you were glad to lose, "Yes, baby girls. Yes, he did. He may have not known it then, but he used that good dick for evil that night."

Sofia was folded over and Helen was recovering from nearly snorting wine-magic out her nose. You carried on through your own building hysterics.

"Listen y'all! This is what happened after! This man gonna look at me and tell me if I ever feel like acting out again to come and find him, he'll give it to me again. Girl, I was through. I rolled him a cigarette, too..."

The sound of laughter felt so good to hear, laughing felt so freeing to do. You needed this time more than you realized and was already planning for future gatherings.

Helen sighed, turning her face up to the ceiling to try and get air. She took a supportive sip of liquor as Sofia wobblily searched for her glass.

"Don't let them quiet ones fool you, right Hel'? It's a real mutherfucker up under them puppy dog eyes..."

Helen rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands, breathing in wetly.

"To be comply honest ladies, something similar happened to me with John."

"Oh my God!!"

"Spilly-spill-spill~!"

"Okay, okay! Spill I shall..."

Turns out that John had the audacity to hint that Helen wasn't capable of talking care of herself within the short distance it took to get to her car from her workplace doors.

Helen had the brilliant idea to go out with some girlfriends and not tell John. Fully intending to have a cool story when she returned home about how she was a 'big girl' and could do as she pleased. You gasped and nearly choked while Sofia went off like a low, wide eyed police siren,

"Yyyoooou can't be doing no shit like that, Helen! You ain't scared of shit?"

"Pfft, well yeah... just not Johnny."

Of course you rose you glass to that, "Go off, Helen..."

Helen snorted but gave a little tilt to her head that had you pointing accusingly. Spill.

Sofia caught on and her eyes narrowed, "Yeah, how'd stand of yours end?"

Helen suddenly found her nails very interesting, "Well...."

Helen described the dark look in John's eyes as he stalked into the bar. Helen remembered aloud how he scanned the crowd, finding her as easily as if she were the only one in the room.

"I-I froze! It was so weird and my girlfriends took the blame but he knows me, it was totally my idea!"

"Then what after that? I know good brother John didn't let that fly..." You giggled with Sofia's, knowing how John could get when he felt wronged.

Helen picked up her drink and muttered something into the rim before taking a hearty sip. You squinted as what Helen said fell short of your ears.

"Huh? What was that?" Sofia apparently heard judging from the Cheshire smile on her face, hand cupped to her ear.

Helen's answer was to go from flushed pink to raging red up to her ears, "I said we never made it out the parking lot!"

You pointed and laughed but hoped Helen saw the comradery in it. You got some popcorn and blame thrown your way but couldn't stop laughing. It may have been the liquor or the overload of endorphins--but you were so happy.

You can finally say you had friends.

Smiling dopily at the two women across from you and relaxing into the plush seat, you reached for another card to start more shit.

---------------

✨ending notes✨: This was sooooo much fun to write and a good release!🫣 this idea of an unhinged girl night would not leave me alone, forgive me for any foolishness as i was smoking on my day off 🤣t. i may do a prt2, what do ya'll think?

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[thewhumpcaretaker]

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐕𝐈𝐈: 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Event Host: @wickblr

Summary: John Wick battles against the memories of The Director telling him he is a serial killer who cannot love.

TW: guilt, emotional child abuse, suicidal thoughts

“You’re a serial killer, Jardani.”

It’s in the back of his head all the time. Not even as a fully formed thought. Certainly not a rational thought. He's aware logically that he doesn't do this because he likes it...right? But he was so good at it, from such a young age. It came so naturally to him. He must like it. He knows what he is. He knows it above all other things. He doesn’t know how many he’s killed. Other people know, probably. People who like killers keep tallies. John doesn't like killers. He doesn't like himself. So he keeps no tallies. He doesn't want to know. And what kind of man doesn’t even know how many people he’s killed?

“You’re a monster, John Wick. The boogeyman.”

Why should he, John Wick, be allowed to have a child when he is the thing that parents tell their children stories about to frighten them into obedience? Why should he have a family or a wife or even a girlfriend? Why should he hold someone gentle in the hands that have been drenched in blood, that have crushed windpipes and snapped spinal columns? He tells Helen not to put their pistol in the bedroom. Never. He doesn’t want to wake up from a nightmare thinking she’s the enemy and - But he knows it doesn’t matter where they keep the gun. He could kill her with his bare hands anyway.

“Jardani. Listen to me. You’re a killer. You can’t love.”

The Director is still leaning over him with her hair in a bun, murderous hand on his shoulder as if what she’s saying is such a tender and important message. Like a proud parent telling him he can do anything he puts his mind to, except she’s telling him what he can’t do instead. He can’t love. She’s always saying this. She’s always standing over him, no matter where he goes or what he does, awake or asleep. And no matter how old he gets, no matter what happens, his answer is always the same.

“The woman I love is stronger than me. She’s more loveable than I am incapable of love. She wins.”

He didn't say it then. He just held his tongue and nodded and kept it in his secret heart. It's not an articulate thought but it comes to him as a victory. Every time, she wins. Before he met her, he knew she would win. He knew it because she was already winning. When he imagined her, he felt himself disappear. Killer? Who’s a killer? Jardani Jovanovich? Never heard of him. No, there’s just a beautiful, open-hearted person somewhere. How is there attention left for anything else when she’s in the world? Some asshole killer is not worth thinking about. He’s already forgotten his own name. Her, on the other hand…

“Even serial killers should make themselves useful for Helen.”

Serial killers get the death penalty. But a death penalty is a waste of someone who could bring Helen her morning coffee. A death penalty is a waste of someone who could hold Helen while she falls asleep. A death penalty is a waste of someone who could behold Helen, and appreciate her in every way, and carry her memory forever. A death penalty is a waste of someone who could love Helen.

“I love Helen.”

There it is, the contradiction. Men of his sort can’t love. And Helen can’t NOT be loved. This paradox is always in his head. This exchange.

“You’re a serial killer, John.”

“I love Helen.”

Love wins every time.