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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year ago

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Hi Petri, soooo I just finished Dead man walking and already (not that soon though, cause I know you have many requests to get through) need a part 2 because this is my new favorite thing, I love it, you did amazing (as always <3).

You can do whatever you want for part 2 but I wish you could do a little scene where the reader is trying to figure something about her job out and Gally is there just staring at her, and how beautiful she looks when concentrated,and they're just flirting and having fun. Also please do a lot of Fry teasing them because I absolutely love it.

Yes, absolutely, I can.

Love my boy Gally.

Sorry I've been MIA.

DEAD MAN WALKING PT. 2

MASTERLIST | GALLY MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2

SUMMARY: See above. Continuation from part 1. Time skip to the Safe Haven.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, Frypan bullying Gally, awkward tension, you not being sure what to do with yourself, reference to Chuck's death. WICKED being WCKD because movie. Newt's dead. Rip.

The past few weeks have been a blur of chaos and emotion.

You'd arrived at the Safe Haven. But, you were the only person left from the rebels.

Lawrence stormed the City, destroying and setting fire to everything, which was not the plan. And not something you agreed with.

You'd split off and made your own way through the City, managing to bump into Gally on his way to their escape ship. His group had taken some blows.

They'd lost Newt to the Flare. Teresa got swallowed by a burning building. Thomas had been shot. Minho had been deeply traumatised at WCKD's hands.

Life hadn't been easy on these kids. But at least they're safe now.

And so are you, even if you're permanently having some kind of identity crisis due to too much free time and losing your rebellious means.

But, hey, you've still got Gally, at least.

Well, sort of.

Things have been painful awkward since your kiss in the Last City.

It's no one's fault in particular. You've been moving a hundred miles an hour your entire life, and now you get shouted at for finishing your work too quickly, and you're not really sure how to deal with people when you're not bossing them around or being bossed around.

And, Gally is just generally terrible at feelings.

It's actually mildly concerning, sometimes.

Which has led to a weirdly tense friendship where neither of you really know what you're doing.

It's a painful watch.

And you kinda sorta forgot that Gally is still a slightly awkward teenage boy with no experience with women.

It's definitely an experience; but on the bright side, you've become an honorary Glader. Sure, you don't understand the slang still, and you have to remember to not ask too much about the Maze or some of the people because you'll be met with several PTSD induced panic attacks. But, you've befriended them.

Minho is funny and sarcastic and incredibly tough.

Frypan is sweet, and also kind of funny. And he's an excellent cook despite what the other boys say.

Thomas is bold and determined, even taking a bit of a leadership role alongside Vince - even after his well-deserved break.

And whilst Brenda and Jorge aren't quite Gladers, you also like them quite a bit. Jorge reminds you of Lawrence in a way. He's rebellious and bold, but instead of cold and occasionally terrifying, he's funny and fraternal. And Brenda is kind of like you in a way, except she's playful. Which you have severely been lacking in the last few years of your life.

Yet, despite integrating into his friend group, his new home, his daily life - yours and Gally's relationship is still at a weird standstill.

So, you've decided to dive into work. Helping Vince is an easy way to clear your mind, and helping out people who've suffered under WCKS's hands is kind of your speciality.

You prepare blankets, clean, help Frypan in the kitchen, help with building plans, settle petty disputes; you name it, you do it.

And that's something Gally has always admired about you.

"Oi, shank, you're starin' again." Frypan says, snickering as he sits next to Gally, the light from the flames bouncing off his face.

Bonfires are an almost nightly occurrence at the Safe Haven. A celebration of their freedom and security. But, it's a bittersweet experience for the remaining Gladers. Memories of happier times dance in the fires of community. They always thought escaping the Maze would be the end, but they often find themselves remembering simpler times.

You don't share the same heartfelt irony.

"I'm not starin'." Gally grumbles back, yet his eyes still linger on you.

You walk around, handing out drinks and occasionally adding to the fire, making small talk; mainly with Vince, Thomas, and Brenda. You also occasionally take grimances sips of Gally's special brew - another festivity bought from the remains of the Maze.

"Uh huh, sure you aren't." Frypan chuckles as he sips his drink, a beat passing between the boys. "I don't get it. You guys kissed. Like, you kissed an actual girl. And now... what?"

Gally sighs, dropping his head as he speaks in a grumbled tone. "I... I don't know, man. She's... she was my boss. She saved my life. You know she found me in the Maze and-"

"And did everything to patch you up. Took you under her wing. Yeah, yeah, we know, we get it." Frypan rolls his eyes, knowing the story off by heart. "You clearly care about her, so why not actually doing something about it?"

"She hasn't done anything about it."

"Uh, yeah, she did."

"When?"

"When she shuckin' kissed you, slinthead."

Gally falls silent for a moment, eyes landing back on you. It's everything about you; your hair, your eyes, your smile, the way you hold yourself, your passion - everything.

"...I don't wanna shuck it up, Fry."

Frypan's eyes land on his friend, the teasing tone slipping away as he looks at him. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Gally anxiously taps his foot, eyes lingering on you again. He looked at you like you were a Goddess and him a feeble insect, blessed to be in your mere presence.

"Gally?" Frypan presses him, brows starting to furrow in worry.

Gally has never been good with words. He's aggressive, and scary, and dangerous. Even if he has learnt to forgive and become more humble thanks to you, it's not like he's become an expert at this. And now he has...

Feelings.

Ew.

He sighs, running his fingers through his short hair. "...I messed everything up back in the Maze. I was scared, and I acted on my own. I tried to hurt you guys, and I..." He trails off, the sound of the gunshot and Chuck hitting the floor still burnt into the back of his retinas. He shakes his head, clearing his throat. "I don't wanna mess this up, too."

Frypan looks at him for a few seconds, before smacking him on the back of the head.

"Klunk-! Fry! What the shuck, man?" Gally grumbles as he rubs the back of his head.

"Are you hearing yourself, shank?" Frypan leans forward on his knees. "That girl over there brought you back from the dead. She saw the potential in you and made it work. Without you, we would've never been able to save Minho, we would've never stopped WCKD - hell, we probably wouldn't even have made it here, man. Get a grip. You ain't that same sissy that spent his time buggin' out around the Glade, terrified of change. You're a hero and a rebell who risked his life for change."

Gally looks at his friend, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"And the only way that you're shucking this up, is if you sit you shank-ass here and do nothing." Frypan continues, letting the statement hang in the air for several moments.

Gally nods, churning the words over in his head.

"I'm right. Am I right, or am I right?" Frypan grins.

Gally snorts, shaking his head slightly. "You're right."

"'Course I shuckin' am." Frypan grins, patting his long-time friend's back. "Now, are you gonna sit here, wasting your breath yappin' my ear off - or are you gonna go get your girl?"

Gally struggles to hide the smile playing on his lips.

His girl.

He likes the sound of that.

"I'm gonna get my girl."

Whilst Gally gets his heart to heart (lecture) from Frypan, you've taken to cleaning up cups and desperately trying to stop drunk people from falling over. It's not a pleasant way to spend your evening, but it takes your mind off your boredom and constant speculation about your relationship with Gally.

"Hey, Boss." The familiar voice pulls you away from your thoughts, landing on the broad boy.

"I told you you don't have to call me Boss anymore, Gally." You roll your eyes slightly, continuing to pick up glasses.

"Yeah, sorry, force of habit." Gally rocks on his heels, anxiously looking at you.

"...You good?"

"Uh, yeah - uh, can we talk?" You raise an eyebrow at his words, a bubble starting to form in the pit of your stomach. "Like.. in private?"

"Sure. 'Course. Uh, wanna walk along the beach?"

"Yeah." He smiles slightly. "Sounds good."

You put the glasses you've collected down, nodding for him to follow you as you both head towards the waves, starting to wander as the waves just miss lapping up your feet.

Gally doesn't look at you for a while. His eyes fixed on the endless sand ahead of him; it's a heavy silence.

You don't push him. Sure, you spent months pushing him to his full potential. But when it came to talking, it was better to let Gally take his time.

After about ten minutes of walking, he finally takes a deep breath. "So, uh... I spoke to Fry.."

"Oh, yeah? What did he have to say this time?"

"He basically called me a useless slinthead." He chuckles dryly, glancing at you.

"Slinthead? That's like a dickhead, right?" He grins slightly; you're still getting used to the dumb slang of the Glade - it really doesn't help that every group of Maze escapees has their own set of personal curse words.

"Yeah, basically." He chuckles.

"...why'd he call you a dickhead? Sorry- slinthead."

He can't help but shake his head at you, that smile still on his face. "Well, uh, I've been a massive diaper-klunkin' sissy, basically."

You blink. What the fuck does that even mean?

He laughs at your confusion before composing himself, stopping to look at you, which makes you stop, too. You face him, brows furrowed slightly as nervousness starts to feel heavy through your inside.

"...remember before the Last City fell? When you kissed me?"

You freeze, embarrassment heating your face as you'd began to start cringing at the memory when you fall asleep. "Honestly, I thought you'd forgotten that." You attempt to joke to lighten some of the tension.

He scoffs. "Yeah... I've been a bit of an idiot." He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just... I was worried about ruining things between us, yanno? I'm so used to messy everything up and-"

"You don't mess everything up." You interject, immediately prepared to defend him against himself.

"Yeah - I know; Frypan already gave me the lecture." He grimaces slightly, almost like he's cringing at himself. "But... I like you. Like, I really shuckin' like you. And... we're safe here. I wanna stop being such a pussy and just..."

It takes a second to sink in what he's saying, your skin feels warm and tingly, butterflies erupting in your stomach. "...just?"

"...I just wanna ask you if... you'd... like to be my girlfriend?" His confidence falters with every word, voice raising in pitch, scrunching his face as he finishes his question in embarrassment. "That sounded shuckin' awkward." He sighs. "Listen-"

You don't listen, because he has no time to speak. Adrenaline takes over as you step towards him, hand coming to cup his cheek as you press your lips against his once again.

The kiss is short and sweet as you pull away, meeting his half-lidded eyes and wide grin. "Take that as a yes?"

"Yes, Gally, I'd love to be your girlfriend. Took you fuckin' long enough."

He snorts. "Yeah, yeah." He leans back in, kissing you again, this time deeper and with more passion, his fingers creeping around the back of your head and into your hair.

"Shuck yeah!" Both of you pull away from each other, seeing Frypan shouting from half way down the beach. "Told you she's your girl!"

You look at Gally. "The fuck is he on about?"

"...Don't worry about it."

So, I'm back.

Again.

And back with a part 2, nonetheless. Sorry for vanishing, lads, I've had some wicked lack of motivation and I feel like a bit of a dick about it.

Yanno... since it's been literal months.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed :))

#🌿 petri writes #🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri tmr gally #🌿 petri writes tmr #tmr fanfiction #tmr imagines #the maze runner #maze runner gally #gally tmr #gally maze runner #tmr gally #gally #gally x reader

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bwabys-scenarios · 1 year ago

Text

Fixer Upper

Part 27

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

Part 26

Part 28

warnings: drinking, characters get high(weed), killua and Kurapika get into a fist fight, Reader is mentioned to have attempted suicide, mentions of Kurapika planning to kill himself after he finds all of the scarlet eyes

A/N: everyone thank Bug for not only the idea for this chapter, but also for helping to write several scenes!! Without her, Fixer Upper wouldn’t be possible <3

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na @nenggie @wicked-binch @jamayah @themanicwriter01

If you’d like to be ADDED to the tawglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

(Name) set the turkey to bake the night before the gathering, and after that, she went to sleep. She would be waking up in the early hours of the day to cook and do some last minute cleaning, so she would need her sleep.

An alarm was set for 6 am, where she would wake up to check on the turkey before getting everyone else up.

“Kurapika, it’s time to wake up.”

The blonde groaned, sitting up to see (Name) standing at his bedside, looking exhausted. She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her tired eyes, before gently brushing his hair out of his face. “Todays the big day. Let’s get ready, okay?”

He followed her downstairs, where everyone else was already awake and yawning. (Name) stood in front of everyone, wearing her pajamas. “Okay guys, I’m going to give everyone a task that you’ll need to complete before guests get here.”

“Um, (Name), a guest is already here.”

(Name) looked to where Gon was pointing to see Bisky sitting on the couch next to Leorio, eyeing him up. “Hey sweetheart, I decided to get here early, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh um, I don’t mind at all. Please excuse the mess, we’re still getting-“

(Name) watched as Bisky pulled out a wine glass and bottle of wine before pouring herself a drink. “Oh don’t worry about messes, (Name). I’m sure those boys are to blame anyways.”

Killua and Gon shrank under her gaze, the former sticking his tongue out at her. Leorio scratched the back of his head. “So what are our tasks, sunshine?”

“Oh, right.”

Killua and Gon were put on cleaning duty, Leorio and Kurapika were asked to do grocery runs and get the little fire pit ready outside, and Alluka was sat at the kitchen table to help (Name) cook. “I thought Bisky came to help with preparations, but she’s just drinking and watching hallmark movies.”

Leorio walked in, wearing a look of confusion on his face. “So is no one going to stop the 12 year old from drinking her weight in wine?”

“Are you talking about Bisky? She’s nearly 60.”

“60? Yeah and I’m 42.”

Alluka and (Name) glanced at each other then him. “You… look like you’re pushing at least 30, Leorio.”

“30!? IM 21!”

(Name) watched as he sulked out of the room, trying not to laugh. “You’re handsome though!”

The two got back to work, smiling and laughing as they cooked. “Okay Alluka, Zushi is going to be here soon so you two can go play, alright?”

A few hours passed, with (Name) finishing up most of the cooking besides a few items. Unfortunately she wasn’t able to make another cherry pie last minute, but she was able to make another batch of macaroni. She still set Kurapika’s version on the table though, even when Killua walked up and scowled. “Mom, that’s going to give someone food poisoning.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Killua, be nice. Kurapika and-“

“Oh I am being nice, that shit looks like it’s going to come alive at any moment and beg for death-“

“Does it really look that bad?”

Killua paused his rant when Gon appeared in the doorway, looking a little hurt. “I tried my best…”

“Oh, Gon…”

(Name) patted his back, letting him sniffle. Killua grabbed Gon’s sleeve and tugged him away, (Name) watching them go. Ever the curious one, she snuck around the corner to listen in on their conversation.

“Gon, I didn’t know you were the one that fixed it up. I was being too harsh b-“

“Because you thought Kurapika did it? That’s not very nice, Killua.”

She could hear Killua sigh, smiling to herself. She could almost picture his cheeks puffing out in a pout as he looked at his friend. “Well… I just don’t really like him all that much.”

“You keep saying that, but you never tell me why. What did he do to make you hate him so much? He’s never done anything to hurt any of us!”

Killua stayed quiet, (Name) holding a hand over her chest. “I just… don’t like that he can’t just tell mom how he feels. He says he wants to ask her out, but he keeps chickening out. Kurapika is selfish too, he expects her to wait for him forever…”

(Name)’s eyes widened. ‘He… he likes me? He’s been trying to ask me out on a date?’

Her face felt hot, and she stopped listening for a moment until she heard something else of interest. “Come here, Gon. Let’s get back before everyone gets suspicious.”

“Yeah. I love you, Killua.”

“I love you too.”

(Name) peeked her head around just in time to watch Killua give Gon a peck on the cheek, both of the boys blushing. She stared open mouthed for a split second before rushing back to the kitchen.

———————-

The guests started arriving soon after that, the first being Wing and Zushi. Zushi immediately left with Alluka to play outside, while Wing walked into the kitchen to greet (Name).

“Miss (Name), it’s good to see you. Thank you for watching Zushi last month, he really enjoyed it.”

(Name) smiled, shaking his hand. “Oh it was no problem, and just (Name) is fine!”

Wing left to join Leorio on the porch, Kurapika peeking into the kitchen soon after. “Angel, I got the milk and eggs.”

“Oh wow, he came back with the milk. Surprising.”

Kurapika scowled at Killua, narrowing his eyes. “Of course I did, (Name) asked me to.”

“Uh huh. It’s just a bit of a shock to see you doing anything useful around here. Usually you stand around like an idiot while (Name) does all of the work.”

Kurapika’s grip on the shopping bags tightened, (Name) rushing forward. “You two need to stop, you’re being childish. Anymore of this fighting and you’ll both be washing all of the dishes after dinner. And I mean all of them.”

Killua shuddered, looking at the various pots, pans, bowls, and plates littered across the kitchen. “… point taken.”

Kurapika set the groceries on the table, helping to unpack them as (Name) smiled. “Don’t take him too seriously, he’s trying to get under your skin. If you ignore him, he’ll stop eventually. You have to stop giving him a reaction.”

“You’re acting like he’s some kind of wild animal that can’t be tamed. He’s a kid that needs some discipline, you let him get away with everything.”

(Name) scowled. “I don’t let him get away with everything, he usually is really well behaved whne you’re not around. Have you ever thought it’s not him, but you that’s the problem?”

Kurapika paused, feeling a bit hurt. “What did I do to deserve-“

He stopped, sighing softly. They both knew what he did to upset Killua, but Kurapika had hoped he would be past that by now. But at that thought, Kurapika cringed. ‘Oh course he isn’t over it, who would be? (Name) didn’t deserve that…’

Kurapika sighed, throwing the empty shopping bags in the trash. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

(Name) looked up, humming. She had already went back to mashing up potatoes while he sulked. “You can make sure Leorio doesn’t get high before dinner.”

“On it.”

More guests arrived, in the form of Knuckle, Shoot, and Morel. They all brought desserts, which were much appreciated since Kurapika burned the cherry pie. “Aww, these look great!”

“Thanks, we got them from the bakery down the street.”

Morel and Shoot joined Leorio on the porch while Knuckle sat at the kitchen table, watching her cook. “You’ve been working hard, (Name). You made all this?”

“Yeah, but I had some help from Alluka and Menchi-“

“I can tell you did most of the work, (Name). Don’t sell yourself short.”

She nodded, her cheeks warming at the compliment. (Name) leaned towards Knuckle to give him a kiss on the cheek just as Kurapika rounded the corner to ask if she needed any help.

The blonde stared at the two, his eyes gone scarlet. Knuckle was the first to recognize the intense bloodlust emanating from behind him, seeing Kurapika when he turned around. (Name) spotted him as well. “Oh, hey Kurapika!”

Kurapika didn’t respond, only walking over to get, grabbing her arm. “(Name), I need to speak with you for a moment.”

“B-but I have something in the ove-“

Kurapika continued to pull her away, his heart racing and his stomach churning. He couldn’t stand seeing her lips touch another man, it made him seethe with rage.

“Kurapika, what is so important that you need t-“

“Why were you kissing him??”

Kurapika grabbed her by the shoulders, meeting her (e/c) eyes with his scarlet ones. She blinked before answering. “Huh? Because he was being nice to me. It was just a kiss on the cheek, and I can kiss whoever I want.”

His grip tightened slightly, the blonde biting his lip. “(Name), I-“

A knock at the door interrupted the two. (Name) used the small distraction to duck away from Kurapika and towards the door. (Name) wiped her hands off on her apron. “Coming!”

Kurapika followed behind her, attempting to get her attention again as she opened the door. Neither of them were mentally prepared for who would be behind it.

“Hello, (Name). It’s a pleasure.”

Pariston stood behind the door, holding a box of gourmet chocolates, likely bought from the local bakery. He handed them to (Name) before pushing past her into her home.

Behind him was Cheadle and several other people (Name) assumed were zodiac members. She could almost feel Kurapika tense up behind her.

“Chairwoman Cheadle, what a-“

Cheadle sighed as Kurapika began to ask her a question. “When you mentioned the get together (Name) planned, Pariston was determined to attend. I didn’t want those two to cause too much trouble, so I and a few of the Zodiac came as well.”

“Those two? I only saw Parist-“

“Hey babe, miss me?”

(Name)’s face scrunched up in disgust when Ging walked up her driveway, giving her a sly smile. Cheadle slapped a hand over her forehead, rubbing at her temple as if she already had a headache from his presence alone. “Yes, those two.”

Ging walked in, walking over the welcome mat without wiping his feet. He ended up tracking in a lot of mud, causing (Name) to twitch. Cheadle hit Ging on the shoulder. “At least act like you have manners. Take those off on the porch!”

Kurapika seemed tense, the corner of his mouth twitching downward into a nervous frown. (Name) placed a hand on his shoulder to attempt to comfort him, but he shrugged it away. She sighed, putting on a smile for the Zodiac members.

“Well, welcome everyone. Please, take a seat. There’s drinks in the cooler outside.”

They walked in, and Kurapika noticed it was all the members that had been at the meeting the other day. Pyon, Gel, Mizaistom, and Zanzai, along with Ging, Cheadle and Pariston. ‘A bit of a handful, but if everything goes well, maybe this would be a good opportunity to prove that (Name) isn’t a bad person!’

(Name) got them all drinks, smiling sweetly and making idle chat as she did some tidying up. “I’ll be back in a little bit, please make yourselves at home!”

She wiped her hands on her apron before leaving to the kitchen, Kurapika’s eyes on her ass as she left.

“She’s got quite the figure, doesn’t she?”

Kurapika’s cheeks turned bright pink when Pariston sat beside him, following his gaze. “I can see why you like her so much, not only is her nen powerful, she seems like you could put her body to use as well.”

The blonde felt his blood boil. “Don’t you dare speak of her in that way, she’s not an object.”

Pariston laughed, patting Kurapika’s shoulder playfully. “Oh my dear friend, she’s the object of your desires, is she not? You were look at her too, you sly dog. Funny, I thought you were supposed to be the rat zodiac.”

Kurapika was visually uncomfortable, his hand gripping the fabric of his pants. No, Kurapika didn’t just see her as an object to own, he loved her. He was nothing like Pariston!

Right?

“Kurapika!”

He looked up, relaxing ever so slightly when he saw (Name) walking back in. She was carrying a bowl of peach cobbler and ice cream in her hands. “I got you a little snack! I saw you didn’t eat breakfast, so I cut into the peach cobbler a little early.”

He felt his heart melt, the blonde sighing happily as she handed the bowl to him. “(Name)…”

Like the last time it was given to him, the peach cobbler was shaped into a heart, with generous scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. Pariston snickered next to him. “Wow, it’s even heart shaped. How… cute. You two… must be very close. That’s interesting, really.”

Kurapika’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like the things Pariston was insinuating, or the sinister look in his eye. “We’re not that close.”

Kurapika said this to be cautious, but (Name) tensed behind him. “I… made it how you like it.” she said softly.

Kurapika’s grip on the bowl tightened, and Pariston decided to keep going. “That wasn’t what you were saying in the meeting. Don’t you lo-“

Pariston grinned when Kurapika covered his mouth, the Kurta’s eyes scarlet with anger. “Keep your filthy mouth shut, Pariston.”

(Name) glanced at the other Zodiacs, who all looked bored, besides Ging, who was walking towards her bathroom with a groan.

“Um… I’m going to go… finish dinner.”

She gave Kurapika a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder before leaning down to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be in the kitchen, okay Pika?”

Kurapika nodded, his eyes half lidded and face red as she left. Her touch could always calm him down, and the blonde couldn’t help but watch her leave with a yearning in his soul.

“Your face is as red as your eyes, lover boy.”

Pariston laughed at Kurapika, crossing one leg over the other. “You look like your husband just left for war. I never thought you would be the clingy type, but here we are.”

“I’m… I’m not clingy. (Name) is just important to me…”

He ate his cobbler in silence, pouting. Maybe if (Name) hadn’t made him something and kissed his cheek, he wouldn’t have been teased so much. ‘I’ll just talk to her… Leorio said communication is key.’

The blonde finished his cobbler, standing up and walking towards the kitchen. He opened the door, glancing in to see (Name) humming to herself as she chopped up celery. “Kurapika? Did you enjoy the cobbler?”

He was quiet as he set his bowl in the sink. He turned on the water, filling the bowl so it could soak to make it easier for whoever washed dishes later.

“(Name)…”

She looked up, swiping the chopped celery from the cutting board into a strainer with her knife. “Yes, Pika?”

(Name) looked awfully cute in her pink, frilly apron, making the blonde short circuit for a moment before he was able to answer. “Can… can you not embarrass me like that?”

The woman paused, giving him her full attention. With an unreadable expression, she replied. “Excuse me?”

‘Fuck.’

“W-when you kissed by cheek, it was a little embarrassing. The Zodiac are my prestigious colleagues, I don’t want them thinking lesser of me. Showing weakness in front of them isn’t very-“

Her expression was now very readable. She looked hurt and upset, the soft smile she’d been wearing before completely gone. “… think lesser of you? What do you even mean by that? Am… I embarrassing to you?”

Kurapika knew he fucked up, the blonde trying his best to backtrack. “No, no you’re not embarrassing, it’s the way you act that’s emba-“

He cursed to himself, he was just digging himself in further. (Name) stared at him in disbelief, hurt evident on her face. “Are you… being serious, Pika? You think I’m embarrassing?”

He froze, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way to explain himself, but he wasn’t able to get anything out. Kurapika stuttered, face flushing in embarrassment as he tried to justify what he said. “Well, it’s just that sometimes you can do things that e-embarrass me. I…”

He went quiet. There were tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, and her lip was quivering. “Sorry, I’ll keep that in mind, Kurapika.”

Kurapika flinched. He wanted to grab at her sleeve and apologize, try to explain himself better, but she was already giving him the cold shoulder, refusing to even look at him. He hated seeing her cry more than anything, especially when he was the cause of her tears.

“(Name), please, I… just listen to me.”

“Sorry, I’m too busy being embarrassing to hear you.”

“(Name)…”

He reached out to grab her shoulder to MAKE her listen to him, but before he could the bathroom door opened. Ging walked out, holding the bottle of Febreze and spraying it. “Yeesh, I feel 10 pounds lighter. Hey (Name)!”

He turned to them, laughing. “Ah, they you are sweetheart. Shitters full, hope ya got a good plunger.”

He patted her shoulder then walked off, leaving both of them grimacing and covering their noses.

“And I’m the embarrassing one? So much for the Zodiac being prestigious…”

Kurapika grimaced. He couldn’t really argue with that, and he didn’t want to either. There was the fact that Ging wasn’t a Zodiac member anymore, but he had been one for a while. There was no excuse, really.

“Leorio, toilets clogged!”

————————

(Name) sat in the kitchen, angrily stirring a pot of cabbage. She hadn’t spoken to Kurapika since he claimed she embarrassed him, and the blonde was currently an emotional wreck. He couldn’t even pretend to keep up appearances, Kurapika openly sulked on the couch as the other guests loitered awkwardly.

“Kurapika, you’re bumming everyone out. What’s up with you?”

The blonde groaned, his head in his hands. “I’m an idiot. The worst.”

“Oh fuck, what did you say to (Name)?”

Kurapika looked up at Leorio, his face miserable. “Why do you think this has to do with (Name)?”

“Because you’re an idiot when it comes to her.”

Leorio wasn’t wrong, Kurapika’s brain did always turn to mush when (Name) was around. “I… said she was embarrassing.”

“Just when I thought you couldn’t say anything worse than the shit you said in York New, you just… go above and beyond.”

A groan left Kurapika’s throat, causing Bisky to glance in his direction. She gave the boy a sympathetic look. “Girl troubles? (Name) told me everything. I should be angry with you but…”

She crossed her legs. “If I’ve learned anything in my old age, it’s that no one would act the way you are now unless they were in love.”

Kurapika nodded slowly, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. “I do love her, I just… I say stupid and hurtful things I don’t mean. I’ve made her cry, now I can’t say I love her. Who makes the one they love cry and think all they are is an embarrassment?”

Bisky placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing it. “Everyone says things they don’t mean sometimes. What’s important is fixing that mistake and making sure the person you hurt knows that you care about them. Just talk to her, tell her how you feel.”

Kurapika scowled. “That’s the problem, she isn’t talking to me now. Every time I try to talk to her, she turns up the music on her headphones or gives me the cold shoulder.”

“Yeah, that’s to be expected. Hell, if you called me embarrassing I would have broken up with you then and there.”

“… we’re not dating.”

Bisky blinked a few times. “Ah… with the way you two look at each other, I thought… never mind. Obviously you haven’t gotten lucky yet.”

The pink on Kurapika’s cheeks turned to a bright red, Leorio trying not to crack up beside him. “Th-that’s none of your business!”

Kurapika crossed his arms, looking away as Leorio stood. “You have fun sulking, I’m gonna go get the fire started.”

(Name) sighed in relief, placing the last dish on the table. The food was finally done, all she needed was to cut everything up and set out paper plates for everyone to use!

“Need some help with that, (Name)?”

Kite was leaning against the doorway, giving her a soft smile. It took (Name) a minute to process their presence, and when she did she broke out into goggles. She ran over to hug them, looking up at them with a big smile. “Kite, you made it!”

“Of course I did, wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

They helped (Name) get the turkey cut up, along with placing a serving spoon in each dish. She sighed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Finally…”

They ended up having to put two tables together to fit all of the food, and it looked like a feast for a king. If only Menchi could see it, but unfortunately she could only be there the day before the event to help. She had a lead on a new ingredient, and wouldn’t be able to make it.

“You did this all by yourself, (Name)?”

Kite looked over the tables, their red hair tied up into a ponytail to keep out of their face. (Name) leaned against their shoulder. “Mmm, I had some help, but most of it, yes. Thank god for Alluka and Menchi, they were both big helps.”

A soft smile took over Kite’s face. “It’s nice to see you’re allowing yourself to rely on others, (Name). It’s good progress.”

(Name)’s face heated up at Kite’s observation. Recently, she had been asking for help more often, without even realizing it. “I guess… I just have people I can rely on now.”

The two smiled at each other, before she stretched. “Well, let’s not keep the hungry people waiting.”

Kite caught her wrist before she could walk out. “(Name).”

They turned her so she was facing them. “Are you alright? You seem a bit… distracted.”

(Name) looked away from their eyes, puffing out her chubby cheeks in a pout. “I’m fine… it’s nothing.”

Kite raised an eyebrow before grabbing her cheeks in their hand and squeezing her face. “You’re fine? Why are their tear stains on your cheeks then?”

With a defeated sigh, (Name) told them what happened between her and Kurapika earlier that day. Kite nodded along, listening intently. “I see… that would be a quite upsetting situation to be in. Have you tried talking to him? From what he said, perhaps he said the wrong thing.”

(Name) huffed as she buttered the rolls. “I’ve been way too busy to deal with him. If he wants to man up, apologize, and speak to me, he can.”

Kite blinked in surprise. “(Name)…”

They smiled, patting her shoulder. “You’ve really grown, haven’t you?”

She nodded, finishing the last roll. “I… I’m not as much of a pushover as I used to be. I have friends now, friends that will back me up if I need them to. I don’t… I don’t have to put up with people mistreating me anymore.”

Kite patted her head, ruffling her hair a bit. “That’s good, name. Good girl.”

She melted at the compliment, leaning into their touch like a puppy being told how good it is. “Thank you, Kite…”

(Name) pulled away, her face a little warm. “Alright it’s really time to tell everyone it’s ready.”

The living room was occupied by the Zodiac, along with Bisky and Gon. Ging was nowhere in sight, possibly hiding from his son. “Hey guys, the food is ready, feel free to make yourself a plate!”

Cheadle stood, giving her a polite smile. “Thank you for this (Name), I know having to cook for so many people last minute wouldn’t be easy.”

“It’s fine, please, there’s plenty of food. Make yourself a plate!”

The zodiac were pleasantly surprised by how soft and sweet she was. Pariston smirked as he passed her, his hand brushing against her hip. “Thank you, princess. It smells lovely.”

She shivered, quickly retreating behind Kite, who kept their eye on the former rat zodiac. “It’s okay, (Name). He won’t bother you any further than that.”

The two made their way to the porch, where Leorio, Wing, Knuckle, Morel, Shoot, and a very awkward looking Kurapika. They all had a bottle of beer in their hands, though Kurapika had barely dipped on his.

Once the blonde spotted (Name), he looked away, seeming embarrassed and shy. Kite noticed this, glancing between the two. ‘Ah, they like each other.’

“The food’s ready, guys.”

Knuckle cheered, patting her shoulder as he walked past her. “Thanks, (Name)! Man, I’m starving!”

Morel laughed. “It smells nice, thank you for your hard work.”

He ruffled her hair, Shoot following behind him. The purple haired man gave her an appreciative smile. “Thanks, (Name). We’ve been looking forward to your cooking all year.”

She flushed over their compliments, waving her hand. “Oh, thank you… you’re all so sweet!”

Wing, who left to grab Alluka and Zushi, smiled. “Zushi always gets excited when he gets to come over. Also, I wanted to personally thank you for making the food nut free. It’s very kind of you to take Zushi’s allergies into consideration.”

“It’s no problem, really. He deserves to have a nice dinner too!”

Zushi and Alluka were both filthy, their hands and clothes covered in dirt. (Name) smiled, finding their dirty faces endearing. “Leorio, you guys go eat. I’m going to get the kiddos cleaned up.”

Leorio nodded, cupping her cheek to keep her in place so he could kiss her forehead. “You’re a doll, (Name).”

She sighed happily, leaning into his calloused hand. Leorio was always a warm and safe place for her, and when he held her so tenderly, it made everything a little easier.

Kurapika watched this interaction with a dull ache in his chest. Leorio was always able to give her affection without being awkward. Maybe he should try as well!

He stood up to say something, but from the look (Name) gave him, Kurapika knew he wasn’t getting any kisses. “Th-thank you for your efforts…”

(Name) nodded, turning on her heels. Kite gave the boy a sympathetic look before following behind her, the two kids being led by (Name) to the bathroom.

“Kite, could you keep an eye on the kitchen to make sure… some people don’t mess anything up? I’ll get the kids clean then come make myself a plate.”

Kite nodded. “If you mean keep an eye on Ging and Pariston, I’ve been doing it the entire time.”

She sighed in relief, giving them a smile before taking the two kiddos upstairs. (Name) was surprised to see Killua sitting on her bed, listening to something with headphones on. He glanced up when she walked in, reaching out his hand for her. She walked forward and took his hand, gently squeezing it. “Overstimulated?”

Killua nodded, glancing behind her two see the two filthy kids behind her. “Did they roll around in dirt?”

(Name) snickered. “That’s what I’m assuming happened. I’m going to get them washed up. Do you want to go make your plate now, or do you want me to come with you?”

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand in thought. “Could you… make me a plate and ask Gon to come upstairs with me when you’re done?”

She nodded, ruffling his hair. “Of course. Just relax, getting them tidied up shouldn’t take long.”

———————

(Name) sighed as she wiped Alluka’s face with a warm, damp rag. “Girl, you’re filthy. I expected this from Zushi, but usually you don’t like getting dirty.”

Alluka leaned into (Name)’s gentle touch, nuzzling her hand. “We were playing a fun game! I don’t like getting dirty, b-but it’s okay when it’s for a fun game!”

“Ohh, I see. Well, your nice dress will need to be washed now. How about we put you in some overalls, so you can play better?”

Alluka nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah! That sounds like so much fun!”

(Name) took off her dirty dress and set it in the hamper, then dressed Alluka in a pink sweater and jean overalls. She changed Alluka’s Mary Janes to a pair of sneakers and put her hair into a ponytail so she would be able to play more efficiently.

“There we go, all done. Look at how cute you are!”

Alluka twirled around, giggling. “Thanks, big sis! I’m so excited, I want to play now!”

(Name) laughed, pulling the girl in for a hug. “You have to eat first, okay?”

When the girl looked up, it was Nanika. “Mama… want to sit with you.”

She scooped her up, balancing her on her hip. “Okay, that’s fine with me, sweetheart!”

(Name) walked down the stairs, spotting Zushi making his plate. He was all clean now, wearing a pair of Killua’s play shorts and a shirt. “(Name), thank you for getting me all cleaned up!”

Nanika smiled, nuzzling her face into (Name)’s shoulder. “Love you, mama…”

She kissed the top of Nanika’s head. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

(Name) sat Nanika down at the table, making her a plate of food before she made one to bring up to Killua.

“Gon?”

The boy looked up. He and Kite had been catching up when (Name) walked over. “Hi (Name)! The food is so good, you did a great job!”

“Thank you, Gon. I just wanted to tell you Killua is upstairs, and he asked if you could come eat with him.”

Gon jumped up immediately, grinning. “Sure! Is that plate for him?”

“Yeah, it is. Would you mind taking it up to him?”

Gon took the plate, smiling. “Of course not, Kite, come talk to me before you leave, okay?”

(Name) began to make her plate, spitting a certain blonde walking into the kitchen. Kurapika paused, wondering whether he should stay and make his place, or if he should leave and give her some space.

“It… all looks really good, (Name).”

She hummed in response, placing a piece of turkey on her plate. Kurapika grabbed a sturdy paper plate as well, standing near her as they made their plates together. Even when (Name) was mad at him, she still gently took his hand and guided him to the food she thought he would like. “Try this, I think you would like it.”

(Name) seemed to have an endless amount of patience and kindness. Kurapika did as told, trusting her completely. He looked up just in time to see her placing a helping of the macaroni he made onto her plate. “(Name), you don’t have to. It’s probably not that good.”

She glanced at him, a slight softness in her eyes. “You worked hard on it. It doesn’t matter if it’s good or not, I’m not letting your effort go to waste.”

This made his heart race, his face turning red once again. She was so good, so sweet, he truly didn’t deserve her. ‘Oh, (Name)…’

He truly loved her so much, even when she was upset at him he still couldn’t help but melt in her presence. “Thank you… you’re such a sweetheart.”

(Name) paused as she was walking out the door, her face heating up. She didn’t respond, but felt her heart speed up.

She sat with Nanika in her lap as she ate, making small talk with the other guests. Most of the Zodiac members were keeping to themselves, but now they had spread out.

Kanzai seemed to be getting along well with Knuckle. Pyon and Gel sat together with Bisky, drinking wine with their meal and watching some hallmark movie. Mizaistom was chatting along with Kite, the two seemingly debating something.

‘Well, I’m glad they feel more comfortable,’ (Name) thought, feeding Nanika a bite of turkey. The girl munched happily, before burying her face in (Name)’s shoulder.

“Happy… mama, Alluka wants to go play…”

Nanika looked up at her, gently nuzzling her cheek against (Name)’s. The girl was very affectionate, which (Name) didn’t mind one but. “Okay, okay. You finished your food, go have some fun.”

When the girl looked back up, it’s was Alluka. “Yay, thanks big sis!”

She hugged (Name) before she ran off, giggling. “Be careful, and don’t get into too much trouble!”

(Name) finished her plate before she went back to the kitchen. She looked over the feast she made. There was still so much food left, even after everyone had made their plates. ‘This is going to be a pain to put in the fridge later.’

———————

Kurapika sat on the couch, mindlessly a scrolling on his phone. (Name) has introduced him to social medias a week or so ago, and he really enjoyed TikTok. The nature themed videos where Hunters showed the places they were exploring interested him greatly, along with fun history videos. He had seen a few inaccurate history facts that had him ranting to (Name), though.

‘Ah… (Name)…’

He was thinking about her again, and how he pretty much fucked up his chance to ask her out at the party. Kurapika sighed, turning off his phone and glancing around the living room. It was crowded, but there were also quite a few guests missing. He spotted Ging sneaking around. So far the deadbeat had been able to avoid Gon’s detection, and it seemed he was going back in for a second plate now.

“Wow, you really are pathetic, aren’t you.”

Kurapika looked to his left to see Killua peeking over his shoulder. The blonde scowled, his eyes narrowing. Usually he would take it in stride and just leave the room, but today his mood was sour and patience thin. “What the hell do you want, Killua?”

“Wow, touchy. Guess making a complete idiot out of yourself in front of (Name) can make you pretty grumpy, huh?”

Kurapika’s eyebrow twitched. “I’m really not in the mood for this today, Killua. Don’t you have someone else to annoy?”

Killua didn’t answer him, only moving to sit across from him. “Tell me, Kurapika. Do you plan on making mom wait forever? Do you actually think she would wait that long?”

“Excuse me?”

Killua sighed, shaking his head. “Figures. If you haven’t been able to figure it out yet, mom is very popular. Take Knuckle for example. He’s a nice guy that likes mom, but she hasn’t given him a chance because she likes someone else.”

The white haired boy stared at Kurapika. “Unfortunately for all of us, that person she likes is you. It’s a tragedy, really. I really wish my mom had better taste.”

Kurapika was both flustered and pissed off. He was just about tired of Killua belittling him every chance he got. “What the hell is your problem? At this point it feels less like you’re defending (Name), and more like you have some personal issue with me.”

Killua laughed. “Are you joking? Fuck, I knew you were selfish and an asshole, but I didn’t know you were delusional too. I can count on a single hand the amount of times you’ve done anything for the group. Though, that number is smaller if we take into account whether it was for your own benefit or not. Mom has helped others for nothing reason other than being a good, kind person. Not only do you not deserve her, she doesn’t deserve to be taken advantage of by you.”

Kurapika was shocked, his mouth agape. “Taken advantage of by me? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Her kindness, Kurapika. You take advantage of what a good person she is. Like a parasite, you’ve latched onto her because she makes you feel a little less pathetic than you are. You can’t love others, so you find people that can and attach yourself to them.”

“That’s not true, I do love (Name)!”

“Really? Does someone in love make their loved one sick with worry? Do they make their loved one so depressed after they leave them that they fall into a depression so bad that Leorio had to take an entire month off of college to make sure they are taken care of? Fuck, Kurapika, do you not understand the absolute hell you put mom through?

You’re fucking selfish, and now that you’ve been given a second chance you can’t even make her happy when you actually try. I think that’s what pisses me off the most, the fact that mom is kind enough to not even mention the shit you’ve done and just allow you to stay here, and you can’t do something as simple as ask her out. You’re a coward, a selfish, pathetic coward.”

Kurapika crushed the cup he was holding, glass shards flying as he stood. “That’s it, I’m sick of this. You don’t know anything about me or how I feel. Do you understand how hard it is to try and love someone after losing everyone important to you, how terrifying it is to realize that my love for her could get her killed? My clan-“

Killua groaned. “Your clan is gone, Kurapika. At this point I think you’re using this bullshit as an excuse to distance yourself emotionally. Your mission, your dear clan, blah blah blah. Who fucking cares? They’re gone!”

This sent Kurapika over the edge. He launched himself over the table, his eyes glowing scarlet as he grabbed Killua’s shirt. “Don’t you ever talk about my clan like that, you fucking-“

Killua ripped his hands off of him, laughing. “Oh, are you going to fight me over it? Go ahead, Kurapika, hit me.”

And Kurapika did just that, punching the white haired boy in the face.

——————

Leorio sat on the porch with Wing as Zushi and Alluka searched the garden for more creatures. He took a sip of his beer as the latter army crawled out from under the porch, tiny fists balled up and caked in dirt as she made a beeline to the little picnic table in the distance. Zushi smiled, flipping to a random page in a coloring book he packed.

“Perfect! Worm Court is open for business. Time to assemble the jury.”

And just like that, two little sets of hands tried to place the various critters in a two-by-six array on the wooden surface. None of them were staying put, wriggling around and falling off. Amidst their cries of “contempt of court!” and “Order! Order”’, Wing finally hazarded a glance over to Leorio.

“Were kids’ games always that…”

“Strange? I don’t question it anymore. They’re not hurting anyone though, so that’s good.”

As soon as Leorio turned away, Nanika reached under the bench and pulled out a rusty hammer. How long it had been there was unknown, and she plopped it unceremoniously onto the bench before Alluka returned again.

“That’s a relief. I know Zushi wanted to teach her more about nen this weekend, but I feel like it’d be too stressful at a large gathering like this.” Wing nodded in understanding, sipping his beer. “Speaking of mastering nen, a little bird told me you’ve improved by leaps and bounds in your own journey? How’s that working out for you?” Leorio lit up at the praise, trying to rein in his excitement with a cough.

“Oh! Um, yeah. Yeah, I think I’ve figured out how to use my nen effectively enough for healing”, Leorio flushed a little, clearing his throat. It wasn’t every day a nen master praised your hard work after all.

“That sounds like a great application for it, I’d love to see it in action sometime.”

Leorio smiled, happy to share all the ideas he’s come up with so far.

“It’ll really come in handy for medical sc-“

CRASH!

The screen door slammed open, the wooden frame snapping in the middle and rattling the side of the house with sheer velocity. Fists were flying in a tornado of white, gold, and blue, and the men jumped back on reflex.

“Hey, HEY! What the hell is going on h-WOAH!”

It slowed down enough for Leorio to notice the two instigators as none other than Kurapika and Killua, and when he went to pull the latter back by the collar of his shirt he ducked out of reach, paying no mind.

“You mother FUCKER-“ Killua picked up the blonde by his tabard, only for him to spit out a little blood, scarlet eyes glowing with fury and…mischief? Kurpika, bruised and bloody gave him a shit-eating grin before he finally spoke.

“I sure am, what about it?”

The words took a moment to register in Killua’s head, but as soon as they clicked into place, he saw nothing but red.

Killua tossed him backward into the fire pit (Name) had dragged out to the porch for special gatherings, but Kurapika grabbed onto the boy, sending both of them tumbling off the porch as the railing splintered beneath their collective weight. The fire pit rolled into the flower bushes, and the rose bush was engulfed in flames, burning steadily as they traveled up the plant. A few feet away, not even acknowledging the accidental arson, Killua rolled over to pin Kurapika to the ground, fists flying as he wailed on the man below him.

“YOU”- he punched Kurapika, punctuating his words with blow after blow. “LEAVE”- a hand came up, trying to shove him off but he pushed it to the ground, standing up. “MY MOTHER”- another haymaker to the temple. “OUT OF THIS!” Killua finished with a solid kick to the groin, reaching for a split wooden beam and raising it to strike. In a flash, Kurapika blindly kicked him in the leg to fall on his ass with a dull thud.

Killua looked up just in time to see Kurapika grab a shitty plastic chair by the headrest, the latter chuckling dangerously as the cheap red material quickly began to dull in comparison to the scarlet rage overtaking his irises. He waved the 2x4 menacingly, almost daring the blonde to come closer.

Wing and Leorio watched, horrified as the two of them battled it out. Not with nen, like one might see in a clean fight, or normal blades like that of a sparring match- but with scattered debris, bloodied fists and all of the finesse and gracefulness of a couple of drunken sailors. Realizing they need to put a stop to it before it got any worse, Wing stepped forward as Leorio attemptsy to stomp out the blackening shrub.

“That’s enough! This is no way for dignified hunters to act, especially a couple of nen users such as yourselves. You two ought to be ashamed!”

Kurapika, too far gone to pay attention to much else, swung the chair at Killua menacingly as the younger one parried it with the splintered 2x4. The trajectory and force were enough to knock not just the glasses off of his head and onto the lawn, but the beer right out of his hands as well. The bottle ricocheted off the chair, flying towards the large oak tree before shattering into a million pieces like some sort of horrible glass baseball.

It left a dark stain on the trunk in its wake, trickling down the bark and down into the pile of shards left behind. Despite the impact, Kurapika never faltered, either unaware of what just transpired or completely indifferent.

‘They’re not even using nen, they’re just fighting dirty…it’s like they want to revel in the destruction, to feel the blood on their hands themselves.’ Wing felt around his immediate vicinity for the frames, before Leorio spotted them a few yards away. Placing them back on the man’s face and helping him up, he patted his shoulder and shot a glare at the duo, seemingly out for blood.

“Wing, the hose is on the left of the house. Put the flowers out, and I’ll see if (name) has some frozen peas you can put on your bruise.”

He nodded sprinting across the floor porch as Leorio hurried in to see (Name) minding her own business, putting up the food. He glanced back over to the door again, little more than a pile of mesh and scrap wood. Between the stress of cooking, company, and cleaning, (Name) seemed too preoccupied to notice the damage. He silently thanked the stars above

‘They’ll sort it out themselves, the last thing she needs is more stress’, he thought to himself. If Kurapika wanted to make an ass of himself in front of the Zodiacs by decking a 14 year old, then that was his problem. Right now, he needed to find something cold for Wing to use as a compress.

She had sent mostly everyone out, claiming the kitchen tended to get chaotic, and he would have laughed at the irony if he wasn’t so worried about the fiasco going on just outside. Her hair was a mess, favorite apron is covered in various stains and spills, and plates upon plates were scattered onto various surfaces. He nearly left undetected when she sensed his aura, turning her head.

“Hey Leorio, what’s up?”

His mouth was dry, trying to figure out the best way to explain himself and possibly buy some time when she paused and frowned. Leorio tried to follow her line of sight and saw Wing by the window, followed by… a garden hose?

“Oh, did Alluka get all muddy from worm hunting under the porch again? I thought I told her not to do that until after dinner.” As soon as she said that, the oven went off, and she slips on a pair of Hello Kitty mitts, sliding the pie dish out and closing the door with her hip with a practiced ease. Placing it onto the burners to cool and slipping them off again, she offered them to Leorio. “Could you hang these up for me? “

Leorio realized what she saw just a second too late, powerless to stop her as she turned the stove off to rush past and see what was going on firsthand

“Leorio, what’s going on? And why do I smell something burning?!”

“Nothing! It’s just the kids get a little rowdy is all, and Wing needed an ice pack.”

Ging’s voice tore through the clattering of pots and pans like a warcry for deadbeat dads from the porch.

“WOOORLDSTAAAARRR!”

By the time (name) made it to the front door (what was left of it anyway), she was met with Wing frantically trying to put out the last of the fire as Leorio pulled the broken pit away from the bushes. The railing was completely destroyed on one side of the steps, and there was scorch marks all over the wood. Finally, Leorio cleared his throat.

“Thats not…what we called you out for”, (Name) followed the man’s gaze, before landing on Kurapika and Killua rolling around in the front yard in a mess of flailing limbs and screaming. This time, however, it looked as though Kurapika finally got the upper hand.

“You little bastard, have you always been this insufferable?! You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Killua sunk his teeth into Kurapika’s arm, relishing in the anguished scream that rippled from the man’s throat.

“You think I’m afraid of your goofy ass Ghost Of Christmas Past attacks!?”

She got about four steps forward before a jet stream of water shot out from behind her, soaking the boys as they froze up instantly. Wing held the hose and glared at them, and white hot shame crept up upon both of them.

“If you want to fight like animals, you’ll be treated as such.

It quickly turned to dread however as soon as Kurapika noticed (Name) marching over, brandishing a wooden spoon and a scowl that somehow manages to chill him even more than the garden hose. Leorio had given her a quick explanation, along with Bisky who had heard what happened inside.

“(Name)! I can explain”

“Mom”-

“Killua, you didn’t need to bring his family into this. You know it’s a sore subject.” The boy in question was pouting as she flicked his forehead. Kurapika snickered but it died down instantly when she redirected her ire to him.

He yelped when she smacked him over the head with the wooden spoon. “And YOU’RE not much better. Who the hell throws hands with a child, Kurapika?! You’re a grown man. Come on.”

She narrowed her eyes at the two, who couldn’t even look her in the face. “Don’t you ever think about hitting each other again, we’re friends. Act like it.”

They nodded, and (Name) sighed.

“Both of you can do the dishes. I think that’s fair. Maybe it’ll teach you to get along too.”

The two grumbled, but quieted down when she pointed to the kitchen using her wooden spoon. “Go, now. I want them done within 30 minutes, or neither of you are getting any dessert.”

——————

The two stood in the kitchen, silent as they both washed dishes. They got a system going, where Kurapika washed, and Killua rinsed and dried.

(Name) had healed their injuries to the best of her abilities before they went inside, getting all of the big wounds and gashes dealt with. Now they were covered in bruised and little scratches, but were overall okay.

Kurapika glanced out the window to see (Name) walking to Leorio, Kite, and Wing, the woman looking distressed. When she started to talk frantically, Leorio pulled her into a hug. Kurapika felt awful for causing her trouble, and when he looked to his right, he saw he wasn’t alone in that.

Killua also looked guilty, looking at (Name) with soft, concerned eyes. Though they were different, Killua and Kurapika shared one thing.

They both loved (Name).

The blonde sighed, setting down the rag for a moment. “Killua… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let my anger get the better of me, hitting you was unacceptable.”

Killua was quiet for a moment before he nodded slowly. “I… I’m sorry too. I… was just so angry when I saw (Name) upset again over you that… I snapped. You were right, I… don’t know you or how you feel, and saying that about your clan…”

Kurapika shook his head, patting the boy on the back. “It’s alright, Killua. Water under the bridge.”

The two smiled at each other. “Okay, okay… and I have to admit, you’re pretty skilled, Kurapika. That’s the most fun I’ve had during a fight in years.”

The two laughed, laughing and joking like old times.

It calmed down a little and Killua sighed, trying to be serious. “Can I ask you a question? Man to man?”

“Hm? You’re fourteen, I’d hardly call that a man. But go ahead.”

Killua glared, but elected to ignore the remark in favor of getting information out of him.

“You love (name), don’t you?”

“…”

His silence spoke volumes, but Killua already knew his answer before then. He was just looking for confirmation.

“She let you back into her life, and I know she forgives you. Not that you deserve it, but a second chance just fell into your lap. I feel like you’re still holding her at arm’s length though. And don’t think she doesn’t notice, because she does. She’s a lot more perceptive than people give her credit for.”

“I…even if I were to stay in her life, I don’t deserve to be that close to her. I’m lucky to be her friend.”

“You don’t even want to try? Like at all?”

“Killua, it’s not that simple.”

“If it’s because you think you don’t deserve her, shouldn’t that motivate you to WANT to be better? And become someone she deserves?”

“People can’t change. If I get too close, I’ll lose my rage. That’s the only thing keeping me going right now.”

“Oh noooo, I can’t be around this person because they make me less angry~!” Killua replied mockingly, putting his soapy hands up in defense when Kurapika glared at him. “That’s called being comfortable around someone. And people can too change, genius.”

“The spiders will always be cold blooded killers. There’s no room for redemption.”

“Okay, maybe not everyone”, Killua rolls his eyes, of course Kurapika had an exception up his sleeve. “But for the most part, we do. (Name) told me once that stagnation is a fate worse than death. If you aren’t evolving as a person, then what the hell are you doing?”

Kurapika blinked in surprise, putting the plate down and grabbing a cup to wash. “I…guess that makes sense? You’ve mellowed out a bit over the years Killua.” He didn’t want to outright admit that Killua had matured, or he’d risk him getting a big head.

“No shit Sherlock. She gave me a loving home and enrolled me in therapy. Being loved didn’t nerf me, if anything it made me stronger. Now I’m emotionally stable, nourished, and thriving. I stand a way better chance at kicking someone’s ass now.”

The last dish was dried and put away, and the two of them came out to the living room where everyone is huddled on the couch or near it, the TV playing some sort of holiday special. (Name) noticed them, and waved them over. He noticed she changed into something more comfortable, but when he recognized the faded pattern on the sleeves he had to do a double take.

It was the same one she had during the hunter exam, but back then it was much newer and vibrant.

“You’re just in time, we were about to start Charlie Brown!” Killua joined her, and like clockwork she removed the sleeve so he could put half of it on like an oversized blanket. “This thing is kind of old, (name). It’s cozy, but definitely seen better days.”

“I know, I mostly wear it to bed or knocking around the house, but I love it too much to get rid of it. It’s one of the comfiest things I own, even if it’s golden days are long gone”, she ruffled his hair and Kurapika joined her on the other side.

“It still serves its purpose, Killua. We don’t all need a giant wardrobe”, Kurapika teased good-naturedly, and the boy in question lifted his head to stick a tongue out at him.

“It’s one of those that gets softer the more you wash it”, (name) helpfully supplied. “It just means it’s well loved, and it loves you back. Time is irrelevant when you’re this cozy.”

Kurapika hummed, leaning a head against her other shoulder. A few minutes into the movie, his phone pinged with a message from Killua, who sighed in contentment before closing his eyes. Kurapika opened up the message and saw attachment: 1 image.

Wholly expecting another stupid meme, like that god awful Megamind “no bitches” thing he got like clockwork every time he did something bad in front of (Name), he sighed and opened it intending to leave him on read. Instead, he was greeted with a side by side comparison of what looked like a couple of plush Garfield cats. One plush looked brand new, while the other was worn down from use. The text said “to be loved is to be changed.”

He thought back to what Killua said earlier about how stagnating was a fate worse than death.

He knew his mission was dangerous, but at the same time, would it really be okay for him to get close to (name)? It was just a stupid Garfield meme, he shouldn’t be reading this much into it, but before he realized it he was tearing up. (Name) looked over and frowned.

“Kurapika, are you alright? What’s wrong?”

A gentle hand cupped his cheek, her thumb swiping away his tears. Kurapika sighed in contentment, leaning into her touch. “It’s nothing, just… thinking about things, what I want to do with my time.”

(Name) nodded, retracting her hand and allowing him to lean back against her shoulder.

She seemed a bit more relaxed, the two not knowing she was watching their little interactions just moments before. “By the way Kurapika, Leorio wanted me to tell to meet him on the porch asfter this movie.”

The blonde nodded, looking down at her. “(Name)… when I get back… we need to talk, okay?”

(Name) paused, Killua giving him a thumbs up from behind her. “Oh, um… alright.”

She sounded hesitant, but it was an improvement from her ignoring him. The three watched He gave her a sneaky kiss to her cheek before walking out to meet Leorio.

Leorio and Kite sat on the front porch. It seemed most of the guests had gone home. Knuckles, Shoot, Morel, Pyon, Gel, Kanzai, and Mizaistom were gone already.

“Kurapika, sit.”

Leorio gestured for a wicker chair sat next to the two. The blonde took it, glancing between the two. “What did you call me out for?”

“You seemed pretty… antsy earlier,” Kite explained as Leorio rummaged a small metal box.

“Antsy is an understatement, you looked insane. I really thought you were about to start growling and foaming at the mouth for a moment there.”

Kurapika flushed at Leorio’s words, feeling ashamed of his actions. “I know, I’ve already apologized to Killua.”

“Shit, he wasn’t much better. Trust me, I know Killua, he can be a real asshole, but he’s still a kid.”

Kurapika nodded, looking at his lap. Leorio was right of course, he usually was. “So, what did you want?”

Leorio smiled, finishing his task and pulling out a blunt from the metal box. “I want you to relax and smoke with us. Take a breather, chill with the boys- or well, Kite and I.”

Kite rolled their eyes. “I told you I don’t care what you call me, Leorio.”

Leorio blushed, waving his hand apologetically while Kurapika processed what the dark haired man was offering. “You want me to get high with you? Is that smart, considering I pissed off (Name) enough today? She hates when I smoke.”

“See, you need to relax. Stop worrying about (Name) for a minute. You worry so much that you stress yourself out, making you snap at others. You’ll be way better to (Name) if you learned to chill out and take care of yourself every one in a while.”

Kurapika leaned back in his chair as Leorio lit up the blunt, taking a puff before passing it to Kite.

“Come on, Kurapika. It’ll help you relax.”

Kite held out the blunt to Kurapika, smiling. The blonde stared at the two. “Am I being peer pressured right now?”

“Yes,” the two said in unison.

He groaned and took the blunt, holding it out. “Just one puff.”

———————

(Name) looked up when Kurapika stumbled into the house, a dopey smile on his red face. Once he spotted her, the blonde made a whining sound, immediately clinging to her as he rubbed his cheek against hers. “Mmm… (Name)…”

The woman squeaked, squirming in his strong grip as he pulled her closer, peppering kisses into her cheeks and neck. “K-Kurapika, what are you-“

She paused, sniffing his shirt. “Oh god damn it, are you high? Leorio did this, didn’t he?”

(Name) huffed as Kurapika nuzzled his nose agaisnt hers, clinging to her like she was his lifeline in a storm. “Just want you… lemme hold you, ‘kay?”

She didn’t protest, leading him to the living room so he could snuggle her on the couch. He seemed so attached to her, and as soon as they laid down he squished his face into her chest, nuzzling until he was comfortable.

The woman wanted to pretend she was annoyed, but honestly she found him cute when he was like this. Whenever he was inebriated, Kurapika could let go of all of his limitations and do what he really wanted. He wanted to be near her, for every part of his body to be in contact with hers. It made him so happy to lie on top of her, his face in her breasts and arms wrapped around her.

“(Name)…”

She hummed in response, running her fingers through his blonde hair. “What is it, Kurapika?”

“I…”

He looked up at her, his eyes a little red from smoking. “I’m really sorry… I know… I say stupid and hurtful things sometimes… but just know…”

He blinked at her sleepily, leaning forward to the point their lips were only an inch apart. “I care about you… a lot… so, so much…”

(Name) sighed happily when he kissed her, feeling his tongue gently lap at her lip, asking for forgiveness and acceptance. With a little nip to his lip, she allowed him in, holding his face tenderly.

Though their tongues danced and their breaths were heavy, the kiss wasn’t arousing. It felt loving, sweet, a kiss people who loved each other would share. When they pulled away, Kurapika’s eyes were soft, looking into hers with so much love (Name) felt her body would explode. “Mmm…”

He laid his head back down, his lips pressing kisses into her neck sleepily. ‘I love you…’ he thought, his hands gently caressing her sides.

The two soon fell asleep on the couch, being covered up by Leorio and hour later. Guests left, leaving Kurapika and (Name) in peace.

Leorio, Kite, and Bisky sat on the porch, talking as they drank. “It seems those two have made up.” Bisky said with a laugh, swirling her wine glass.

“Yeah, it seems so. They both looked pretty happy.” Leorio agreed, staring into the neck of his beer bottle. Kite only sighed, leaning into his chair.

“Does he still not know about the Chimera Ant situation?”

The other two went quiet at Kite’s question, not daring to look up. “He doesn’t, does he?”

“No, he doesn’t even know about the letter, or the fact she nearly killed herself after what he did in York New,” Leorio said gravely, setting down his drink. “She said it would absolutely destroy him. Sometimes I hate how she always thinks about others before herself.”

Bisky nodded. “She cares about Kurapika so much, she won’t even tell him just how badly his actions affected her in fear that it would push him over the edge. Apparently, when she would sleep next to him during the Hunter Exam, he would talk about ending his life after finding the scarlet eyes in his sleep. It really messed with her head.”

Kite cleared their throat. “Well, it has to come out eventually. Keeping all of these secrets helps no one, especially the fact that (Name) has worked with the Phantom Troupe. If he finds out on his own, he might assume she’s a traitor when she’s actually been helping him by being getting information. He gets too angry, he wouldn’t be able to comprise with them.”

Leorio sighed, the man looking much more tired than before the conversation started. “Yeah, I know. I just hope Kurapika is ready for all of that information. Hell, Gon doesn’t even know any of it, he doesn’t even know Kurapika’s the one that broke (Name)’s wrist.”

The three sat in silence, knowing that eventually, these secrets would come to light.

They were just hoping it would be of (Name)’s own free will.

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johnwickb1tsch · 1 year ago

Text

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) Part 4

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

PART 4.

When the night of your art show comes, you do not expect to see John Wick in the crowd. You had not heard from him since that night when he gave you the orgasm of your life, then disappeared from your apartment like he’d only ever been a dark dream.

Though your panties had disappeared too, and you strongly suspect he’d taken them with him.

The gallery is packed this night. It’s a group show, and you’re hardly the main act, but it’s a huge stepping stone for you as an artist. Gallery X is nothing to turn one’s nose up at, and you dare to hope that maybe, just maybe, things might get going from here. The art world is just as much politics as it is producing work, and you were never good at that part of it all.

Helen was, bless. She presented strong work, but she also knew how to read a room, and whose hand to shake, and how to tell someone to go to Hell with a polite smile. You know that her final gift to you was the cachet of her name in a collaboration, and maybe, just maybe, if you play your cards just fucking right, this could be your break.

You recognize the faces of people with big names in the art world here tonight. Critics, museum curators, journalists, and collectors. They’ve all come out to play, and your heart has not slowed its frantic pace in your chest for the past hour since opening.

You snag a glass of champagne from a passing tray, even though you hate the stuff, and that is when you see him through the crowd. He’s across the room, tall and forbidding in a dark suit, his long hair framing his angular face. You can practically feel the weight of his gaze upon you, through the crush of all these people. For a moment, time stands still, as your eyes meet his.

You have thought of him a thousand times since the night he left you sated yet ravenous in your bed. A hot flush blooms across your skin, a spear of desire shooting straight to your loins as you remember what he did to you with that perfect mouth, and those big hands, and those soulful eyes. God, but you would have given him anything, after one look from those yearning dark eyes.

He is dressed well, but he doesn’t exactly look well. There is an edge to his stare; an intensity.

A hunger.

An agonizing thrill runs down your spine; for a moment you have to look away. It’s just too much.

By the time you turn back, he is gone.

You continue to mingle, chatting with your friends and acquaintances, sipping some of the bubbly to try to calm your nerves. It doesn’t work; you feel as though you have a live wire under your skin, a thousand volts of raw emotion running rampant through your veins.

It would have been easier, had it only been lust, or even just pity. But there was something more to it, something substantial and heady and warm, and that made it a much harder beast to slay.

You slowly make your way around to look at the other pieces. It’s the polite thing to do, and interesting too. The theme of the show is Loss. Perfectly broad, and the subjects of the works vary wildly.

In front of a massive encaustic abstract a low voice in your ear stops you in your tracks. “I feel like I owe you an apology.”

You turn your head slightly to find John standing ever so near, so close you can feel the warmth of the solid line of his body behind you. The room is packed and it’s almost necessary to stand this close just to be heard, but still, you get a dark thrill out of it.

“Oh?”

“I feel like I took advantage of you, last we met. I am sorry.”

You turn to face him, standing close enough to kiss. Thanks to the heels you’re wearing, you don’t have to crane your neck too far to look him in the eye.

“Actually, I was kind of thinking I took advantage of you.”

This clearly surprises him, his eyebrows rising. Ah, this dear, sweet, man. You didn’t take him for being naïve, but he is a little older, and the claws of traditional gender roles cling hard and deep.

“Helen wanted me to look after you, and I—”

“Gave me the most incredible pleasure of my life? Yeah, it was pretty terrible. You’re a selfish beast.”

He blinks at you, clearly stunned. Then his eyes narrow, the hunger from before sharpening to a cutting edge, and a scintillating thrill runs down your spine. You cannot shake the feeling that you’ve just pulled the tail of a tiger; a predator both magnificent and deadly. Mostly it’s excitement; but just the slightest hint might be fear. There is something brimming below the surface of this man that you know you don’t entirely understand. You aren’t sure yet if it is passion, or violence—or maybe a combination of the two. You wonder if Helen ever got to see behind the mask.

Somehow, you are certain she did, and she had not run from him. Perhaps that is what makes you brave tonight.

“You don’t mince words, do you?”

“Helen was the tactful one.”

“I actually found her refreshingly direct.”

“But I'm just abrasive. I've been told, believe me. It's because I don't apologize before I tell men what I really think.”

“I don't want your apologies.”

“Either way... I'm a big girl, John. You don't have to be the responsible adult between us.”

The corner of his mouth ticks at that.

“I feel like I should at least try.”

You shrug, unable to stop yourself from fingering his tie, fighting the urge to wrap your fist in it and pull him to you again. You’ve missed him, and standing this close, what you really want to do is climb him like a tree, and the crowd be damned. “Suit yourself.” You force yourself to stop touching him, although he didn’t seem to mind, or intend to stop you. You sigh deeply, warring with yourself as ever.

This is all so very fucked.

Maybe the truth is the best way to go.

“I like you, John. Maybe I’m just lying to myself, thinking Helen wouldn’t be pissed, but…maybe she’d be happy we’ve found each other.”

You dare to look him in the eyes, and once again, he looks as though he is drowning.

Fuck. You have to go.

You force yourself to step away from him, because your skin feels like its on fire. “We’re all going to Bar Rosé later to celebrate. You’re welcome to come, if you want.”

You retreat to greet a friend who’d come all the way to Manhattan from upstate to support you, and you can feel John’s eyes boring into you as you walk away.

For the rest of the opening you follow him out the corner of your eye. As though he's a magnet, you simply cannot help it. You are achingly aware of his presence, even if it's from across the room.

He pauses before your piece of Helen for a very long time, letting the crowd mill around him like a rock in a stream. It’s heartbreaking, really, the way he stands there before her, transfixed. A part of you wants to go take his hand, support him in what you know is yet another painful moment for him. But in the end, you decide to let him process it alone. A little later, you notice him talking to the gallery owner. Chummily, almost like they know each other. Of course, Carol Banning had known Helen, so perhaps you shouldn’t be so surprised.

When the evening is winding down John Wick is nowhere to be found. You're a little disappointed, and a little bit relieved. You're not sure what you think you're playing at, but deep down, you know it's so fucking twisted.

You meet with your comrades from the show, some artists you knew before, and some new acquaintances too. You hail a van cab to go a few blocks to Rosé. Tonight was a success. Someone bought your painting for a massive amount of money. More than you’d ever dreamed you could charge for a piece of your soul put down on canvas with paint. Carol had assured you it was appropriate, and you guessed she knew her clientele. A part of you was distressed to part with the piece you’d created with blood and tears and Helen’s art, and a part of you was relieved to let it go. You completed the cycle. You were sending Helen out into the world, where she would be remembered, and celebrated, for the remarkable woman she was.

It should have felt like victory, but in truth it was bittersweet.

You are 98 percent sure you don't let it show. Your friends are giddy with the success of the exhibition, and the last thing you want is to bring them down. You are too, truth be told. You were interviewed by not one, but two journalists this evening. One who even worked for the Times. Maybe it’s just curiosity about Helen Morgan-Wick’s baby sister, but…Helen would have told you to stop overthinking and enjoy it.

So perhaps, you will.

True to its name, the neon lights that accent the room at Rosé are pink. The glassware is too. You’re sure it’s a play on seeing the world through rose tinted glasses…but the drinks are strong, and the ambiance is fun. After a round your friends want to dance. You agree, and the four of you have a great time until you pick up a bogey. A man keeps trying to dance up on you, not getting the hint when you sidle away, not engaging with him whatsoever. Finally, you get tired of dodging him, and decide to get another drink. He follows you, leaning on the bar while you wait for the bartender’s attention. “I'm Sasha,” he says in thickly accented English, looking you up and down. He’s not bad looking at all, but there is something in the way he looks at you that makes you uneasy.

“Hi,” you answer, not keen to give him your name.

“You come here often?”

“Not really.”

“What are you celebrating tonight?”

“Who said we're celebrating?”

Had this pushy creep overheard you? Had he followed you from the gallery?

Another voice cuts in from behind you, a string of Russian that almost sounds like a command.

Your unwelcome suitor frowns, answering in the same language.

You turn your head to find John standing close behind you. You hadn’t noticed him come in; it’s as though he materialized from the shadows. When he puts a hand on your waist you do not flinch, hoping the other guy will get the picture. He frowns, looking between you. He says something quick over your head, and the only word you catch is blyad.

You’re pretty sure it means fuck.

There is a heavy moment rife with tension between the two men with you stuck in the middle, before the Russian makes a hissing sound between his teeth and goes. He doesn’t just go to the other side of the bar, however. He leaves the premises, slinking out the door, and you turn to look at your savior.

“Wow. What did you say to him?”

He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you know him?”

“Hmm. Sort of. From work.”

You tilt your head, staring up at him. He hasn’t removed his large hand from your hip, and even though its possessive and maybe it should bother you, you revel in his touch. You’re not usually one to get off on men fighting over you, but it’s hard not to feel a little glow of primal satisfaction at the exchange. It makes you feel bold, and maybe you run your mouth a little. “Yeah? So did Helen know?”

“Know what?”

“That you’re an ex mafioso?”

You’re 99 percent sure you’re making a joke, but from the sharp way he looks at you, a trill of warning rolls down your spine. He leans down to speak in your ear, “You have quite the imagination, young lady.”

That warmth in your chest descends to pool between your thighs.

The bartender saves you from digging this hole even deeper.

“What can I get you, Mr. Wick?”

“Blanton’s on the rocks,” John answers, then looks to you.

“Vodka martini, please,” you answer.

“We have Smirnoff, Absolut, Grey Goose, Stoli…”

Before you can answer that Smirnoff is fine John answers, “Stoli.”

You raise an eyebrow at him as the bartender goes to pour your drinks. “Thanks.”

“Life is too short to drink bad vodka.”

You huff a laugh at that. “So, do you know every bartender in New York, or…”

“Probably just in Manhattan,” he jokes with a ghost of a smile.

You turn so that you are facing him completely. You have to stand close to hear each other, you reason. It has nothing to do with the fact that this man draws you like you are an asteroid caught in his gravity. If you collide…you have no doubt you’ll burn to pieces.

“Congratulations, on tonight,” he says, and you believe he means it. “Helen would be proud.”

“Thanks. Feels surreal, to be honest.”

“That’s fair.”

You find yourself looking at his tie again, fighting the urge to use it to tug him closer. My, but you are becoming a needy creature in this man’s presence. You have to remind yourself that you do not, in fact, know him that well. Even if it feels like…he could have always been yours. “It’s nice to see you again,” you dare venture, looking up from beneath your lashes.

“Likewise.” He touches you lightly, just below your chin. Your eyes meet, and you feel pinned by those dark orbs, somehow certain he can see right through you,

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…are you okay?” Like on Helen’s birthday, you imagine tonight must have dredged up plenty of emotions that just maybe this poor man would like to bury once and for all.

“I guess I deserve that, after how I behaved.” He is, undoubtedly, referring to the way he fled your apartment a month ago.

“I’m not mad, I just…genuinely want to know.”

He bites his lip as he’s thinking, and its all you can do just to watch him, wishing it was you with his lip between your teeth instead. Finally he answers, “I am as okay as it is possible for me to be.”

It is the most non-answer you’ve ever heard.

Sensing your dissatisfaction with this pointed evasion, he digs a little deeper, leaning in so that his words are only for you. “I didn’t exactly lead a happy life, before Helen. After she passed…I was certain I would never want anyone ever again. You kind of threw a wrench into that.”

“Sorry.”

He gives a little huff of self-deprecating laughter. “Don’t be. I…I like you, y/n. Please, forgive me, for…everything.”

You don’t believe he’s telling you all this to win sympathy, or using it as a line, like so many men would. It’s just facts, and you are moved to the bottom of your soul. Somehow you know that this is not something this man would casually admit to just anyone. “John…” With your heart in your throat you find yourself reaching for him, touching his fingertips with yours on the bar. “It’s ok. You don’t owe me an apology. You don’t owe me anything.”

He tilts his head to look at you, his dark hair swinging into his face. You feel bold enough to reach out, brushing it behind his ear. His eyes close at your touch for the barest moment. It’s so easy to forget that you are in a crowded public venue, with him near. “I owe you my gratitude, at the very least.”

You shake your head, prepared to deny it, but then your drinks arrive, and the moment is somewhat shattered. “Want to sit with us?” you ask, indicating your merry band of artist misfits with your chin. He nods, following you, though his hand has found that place at the small of your back again that warms your blood to an agonizingly slow simmer. Carol has joined you, and you wonder if John will feel awkward, fraternizing here in unspecific but obviously friendly capacity with his sister in law.

Yikes. You do not like it, when you think of it that way.

However, Carol Banning is a veteran of the New York art scene, and she has seen much worse scandals than this. She doesn’t even bat an eyelash, greeting him warmly from behind her large black-rimmed glasses. They chat more about the show, and the state of the art world. Carol mourns that no photographers currently working quite have an eye like Helen did. Then she points a crimson painted claw your way, surprising you. “But this young lady. She’s going to do some interesting things, I have a feeling.”

John salutes you with his dwindling glass of amber liquid, a smirk on his lips you don’t entirely know how to read. “I have no doubts.”

After you finish your drink you find you are ready to go. It’s been a long day, and a big night. Tonight, you fulfilled Helen’s dying wish for you, and somehow you feel simultaneously accomplished and sore to the bone.

“Can I drive you home?” asks John quietly in your ear. It sends a bolt of heat straight to your center, warmth pooling in your loins as you remember what happened last time he made such an offer. You look at him, wondering if he wants an encore, or if he just wants to see you home safe. His face in that moment is so handsome it hurts, but utterly unreadable to you.

“Sure,” you answer, sensing that somehow you’ve just signed your fate over to him with your name on the dotted line.

You hit the street, the cool night air a relief after the close press of the bar. John offers you his left arm, and you take it gladly, leaning on his shoulder a little more than you really need to. Part of it is that last martini with what had been truly excellent vodka—and part of it was just a need to be close to him. A part of you thought you’d never see him again. The fact that he is here, solid in the flesh and you can touch him, kind of blows your mind.

“I’m not parked far,” he assures you, and you nod with a sleepy smile. At the end of the block you see his car parked on the street. It’s a little menacing, you think to yourself, looking at the dark paintjob and the sleek lines. Definitely a car designed to be a predator of the road; something that will run you down and eat you, no matter how fast you try to run.

As you near the vehicle three shadows separate themselves from an alley. John freezes in his tracks, pushing you behind him. You recognize the guy from earlier, Sasha, who is flanked by two intimidating henchmen. He speaks to John again in Russian, and John replies in kind. It pisses you off that you don’t know what’s being said.

“Speak English,” you demand, half-stepping out from behind John.

A low chuckle runs through the men before you that makes your blood run cold. “I said,” enunciates Sasha slowly, “That if he hands you over now I’ll let you both live. He’ll just have to watch as I fuck you like the whore you are.”

“Nice. Very original, fuck head.”

His self-satisfaction morphs to anger. You are scared, but you’re not showing it like you should, and it’s ruining his fun. You use John’s body to shield the fact that you are dipping into your purse for your pepper spray. Why the fuck can’t you ever find anything in your purse when you need it?

What comes next happens so fast you almost can’t register it. One of the toughs made the first move forward, but John is like a hurricane upon them, deflecting strikes and breaking arms, punching one guy in the throat and kicking another in the gut. He throws one with some kind of complicated grapple and flip ninja shit before hitting the other again in the knees. In the blink of an eye two of them are down on the ground, leaving John to take on Sasha, who has drawn a knife. You see that one of the grounded henchmen is fishing behind his back for something. Without thinking you surge forward, knowing it’s a matter of life and death. As his hand raises with the gun you goalie-kick it from his hand, dousing his face with mace.

“Motherfucker!”

The gun goes off before it skitters across the street and under a parked car. He howls with agony, clutching his face, trying to wipe the concentrated capsaicin out of his eyes. In the next moment there is an arm around your waist, pulling you towards the parked cars. You are so caught up in the adrenaline rush that you react without looking, but John catches your hand with the mace, keeping it pointed away from the both of you. “It’s me,” he says, taking the tube and slipping it into his pocket like he doesn’t trust you not to let loose again. “You did good, honey. Come on.”

As he is bundling you into the passenger seat of his car you look back to see Sasha is writhing on the sidewalk with his knife in his leg, shouting what undoubtedly are expletives in Russian. You vaguely wonder if he might bleed to death as the Mustang rumbles to life and you roar away.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim, trembling with adrenaline and you guess, a bit of shock. “What the fuck just happened?”

“Are you hurt?” he asks, deeming it the more pertinent question.

“No. I’m…fine,” you say, looking down at yourself. “Jesus, are you hurt?” You look over at him to see that he is bleeding from a cut on his brow. “Oh my god, let me see.” You reach for him but he holds up a hand. “I’m fine, believe me.”

You catch one more glimpse of the wreckage behind you as he makes a right turn, downshifting. The car surges forward, pressing you back into the seat.

“You totally laid those guys out!”

“Yeah.” You study him from the passenger’s seat, his hard expression highlighted by the passing headlights. His jaw is clenched so tight you think he might crack his teeth. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”

You think about the three guys he leveled out like a human tornado.

“You've got some moves, Mr. Wick.”

He just sighs, sounding so very tired.

“Yeah.”

“Should we…call the cops?”

He looks over at you like you should know the answer to that question, but shit, this is the most violence you’ve seen up close in your entire life. Finally, he just shakes his head, seeming a decade older in that moment. “It wouldn’t do any good,” he assures you.

Except, maybe get him arrested, you reason. Because even though it had been self-defense…the carnage he’d left behind was unreal.

“Helen said you used to work in security?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus Christ.”

He huffs a laugh at that. “Hardly.”

“I still don’t fucking get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why…this even happened? Men don’t exactly brawl on the street over me.” For Helen? Maybe, more likely, but not you, the boho weirdo who is lucky enough to kind of resemble your model-beautiful older sister, but will never be half as lovely or charming. You suspect there is some other reason this went sideways, that has more to do with John’s professional life before he retired from security.

That job description is holding less and less water the more you think on it. Helen was always super cagey in talking about what John Wick did for a living. You’re starting to get a better idea as to why that might have been.

John surprises you when he holds out his hand to you across the center console. “I would fight an army for you,” he tells you softly, and goddamn if you don’t believe him. You take his hand, comforted by the strength in the long fingers wrapped around yours. You only let go in between him shifting gears, and you don’t really say anything else until you pull up in front of your building.

“Come on,” you say, swinging open the heavy door of the sportscar. “I’ll take care of you.” The look he pays you is somehow both raw and predatory. A thrill of anticipation runs down your spine, because at this point you’ve lost your mind, and you don’t have the sense to be afraid.

<<PART 3 PART 5>>

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick fic #keanu x you #keanu reeves x reader

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beansricejc · 2 years ago

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JOHN WICK x READER - The Courier

part 4!

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

summary: John sneaks into your apartment to surprise you when you get home, and asks for you two to become official. Then y’all finally get steamy in the bedroom, where he talks you through it the whole time. Female reader, 3270 words.

author’s note: thx for following so far! if you’re new here, I’d recommend reading the previous parts but it is not necessary! feel free to lmk what you think! I love reading what u have to say! thx 💕

warnings: cursing, p in v, relationship talk, breaking & entering, alcohol, implied organized crime, significant age gap. 🔞

Your condo was surprisingly easy to break into. Well, for John that is, and John’s the best there is. It’s no surprise that getting into your place without a key is a walk in the park to him.

It’s been about a month and a half since the pair of you began to see each other. People John’s age would call it casual dating. People your age would call it a situationship.

One of the biggest challenges was John trying to keep up with your lingo, and then whenever he’d try to use it in a sentence, he’d fail drastically.

Enough of that.

John’s lurking around in your living room. He’s been here a few times before. Dinner, drinks, movies, and gaming nights, you name it. John’s Casanova identity was slowly being torn apart by you. He had developed feelings for you that he was convinced would never appear again after the death of his wife.

The last place he thought those feelings would come from was a young crime boss. The sheer idea of it almost made him laugh, even if it was true.

Tonight, he’s going to ask you to make it official. A public romantic relationship, between a budding crime lord, and an infamous hitman.

It sounded ridiculous, yet it was all John wanted.

Meanwhile, you’re driving back home from a very frustrating work meeting.

The title of work meeting was a very loose term. It mostly consisted of you berating some of your workers for fucking up a decent sized delivery. Two of your employees had totaled their motorcycles, and were suffering from road rash, and the other one forgot to fill up on gas before the job.

Fucking idiots.

That didn’t matter now, you were blaring some A$AP Ferg just to let out some frustration, your Audi R8 was a fantastic car to speed down the highway in. You, of course, specialized in riding a motorcycle but fall was on its way, evident by the chill in the air.

The plan for you tonight was to get home, drink half a bottle of Plum Sake, and pass out to some sort of Netflix Original playing on your tv.

You thought about shooting John a text since he had messaged you a few hours ago. You decided you would text him once you got home.

John was admiring your home aesthetic, he had complimented it a few times. You really had the 70s vibe down to a T. The nostalgia was almost overwhelming to him, you were a 2000s baby, and John was, well, not.

John was surprised that you hadn’t said anything to show that you hated the age gap you two had, except for the occasional old man diss.

John took a closer look at some pictures that were in frames on a shelf. He didn’t know exactly what they were. If he was a betting man, it would be a high school graduation photo with friends, vacation pictures, and then some competitive Motocross racing images.

“Damn, badass.” John chuckled, it was interesting getting an insider look at your life since you are a crime lord after all.

You parked your car in the garage and made your way to your condo, a few floors up and a few doors down. Your stupid key was so hard to find in your purse, and you almost gave up looking for it out of pure exhaustion. However, you managed, sighing as you opened your door and kicked your shoes off onto the rack.

You didn’t notice John at all. No one ever did. He was an expert, and experts act like ghosts when they need to.

You hung your purse up on a hook and immediately went for the kitchen and into the fridge, searching for sparkling water to chug. You didn’t know why but the burn of it going down your throat was really great feeling. To you at least.

As you grabbed a can, you could tell something was off. You weren’t that dumb. Any normal person would have gone about their business as usual, you picked up on a presence in less than two minutes. Impressive.

“Hey, cutie.” John’s voice suddenly appeared from your living room, his tall and menacing figure emerging from the shadows of your dark condo. You jump, grab your gun that’s in your back holster, and stop abruptly after you realized it was John. You went into panic mode from hearing his voice and gasped to settle yourself down.

“Shithead! Oh my god, you scared the fuck out of me!” You exclaim, there are actually a million other things you’d like to say right now.

“Asshole!”

“I’m gonna knock your teeth in.”

“Holy shit, you’re hot as fuck.”

Those were a few examples, of course, you didn’t say any of them. They were still going through your head though.

John was cackling from the living room while he stepped towards you, you put your firearm down on your kitchen counter, fuming at the fact that he somehow broke in, and almost gave you a heart attack. John absolutely loved teasing you, watching your face getting frustrated or flustered really did something to him that he couldn’t explain.

John joined you in the kitchen as you were calming yourself down, the danger you were in being a false alarm. He gave out a throaty deep chuckle, looking down at you with those menacing brown eyes.

They were never menacing towards you. John couldn’t even imagine the thought of doing something to hurt you or to even intentionally scare you. Over the past month, he’s grown to like you more and more, a thought that scared the shit out of him. He’s gonna do it. He’s going to ask you to be his girlfriend.

What a juvenile term, he felt much too old to even use that word but what else was there?

John hadn’t exactly figured out how he was going to ask, one thing was for sure, it would happen tonight.

He didn’t know why but tonight just felt like a really good choice.

John’s long dark hair is slightly draped over his chiseled face, his eyes peering through the strands directly at you.

“Sorry, angel. You’re just so cute when you get scared.” John tells you. You’re currently putting on the biggest pouty face you can manage right now, just to show your disdain for his prank.

You can hardly be mad at the man. He’s just so damn attractive. He’s even wearing a tee shirt, you have never seen him wear one before. John’s toned biceps are peeking out of his short sleeves. Your eyes can’t help but drink in the sight of his bare arms. Multiple scars and bruises are sprinkled throughout his skin, ones you have yet to hear stories of, or even see.

You snap out of your fan service moment when John takes his large hand to ruffle your hair. He loved the feeling of your thick and soft hair against his skin, and the smell? He had no idea what type of shampoo you used, the smell of it was embedded into his memory and only associated with you now.

Raspberries, and coconut? That was probably the closest he’d get to guessing the scent.

“I should upgrade your security here, it took me like 20 seconds to get in. I expected better from a criminal mastermind.” John tsked at you, playfully disappointed.

He takes the chance to lean against your kitchen’s island, crossing his legs but his gaze has yet to leave you.

You’re such a beautiful creature.

The sight of John’s casual lean stirs something inside of your chest.

Christ, can this guy get any sexier? You think to yourself.

“Sorry, guess I haven’t looked into that yet.” you stammer. John waves you over, and you take a few steps towards him, laying against his body and setting your head on his chest. You press your ear to him, listening to the soft thuds of his heartbeat, the organ doing its job to keep pumping blood through this lethal man.

“Hey, uh, let’s talk for a sec.” John says suddenly after about a minute of mutual silence. You scrunch your eyebrows and peer up at him, curious. Why did he sound so serious all of a sudden? He looked nervous almost.

“Yeah, sure, what’s up?” you ask.

John is quiet for a few seconds, it looked like he was trying to find the right words to say. You’re really enjoying laying against him since his body is so warm, and definitely not because of the muscles you can feel against your own.

“So.” He starts. “What do you say we make our little situation exclusive?”

Your eyes widen. No way. Absolutely no way. Was John fucking Wick asking you to be, oh Jesus Christ. The deadly playboy was being serious, and you can tell based on how his brown eyes are soft but with anticipation growing inside of them.

Oh my god.

You were clearly interested, even if both of your schedules clashed with each other. You two were well-known workaholics in the criminal underworld, the few times you got to see him a week were very romantic, however, short-lived.

With this in mind, your time spent together was amazing but as far as the physical aspects, you two were taking it slow. You of course were doing it unintentionally, work tired you out, you haven’t really done anything sexual of the sort in years because of your painstakingly busy work life, and so on and so forth.

John, on the other hand, was becoming a bit sexually frustrated. He really loved your wholesome time spent together, he did! Just, sometimes the way your pants fit around those hips and ass of yours, his mind tended to, wander, to say the least.

“Are you asking if you can be my boyfriend, Johnathan?” you inquire, walking your pointer and middle finger up his chest to fidget with the hem of his black tee shirt. You were attempting to calm yourself down but were failing miserably, just the sight of John looking down at you in that idyllic gaze of his was driving you absolutely nuts. A soft but low hum escaped his lips.

“Or maybe, I’m asking you to be my girlfriend,” he whispered down at you.

You don’t really know why but you laugh.

“Same question, different fonts.” you giggle. John huffs in amusement at your statement. He still doesn’t know where you come up with these things, or really how internet culture works.

“God, you guys, and your memes.” he sighed. “You can’t leave a man hangin’ like this, angel. What’s it gonna be?”

You haven’t had a real relationship in years, and it seems like John is in the same boat as you. He’s mentioned his late wife only once to you, obviously, it was a sore subject. He was serious about starting anew with you it seemed.

“I wouldn’t want to be anybody else’s.” you murmur to him.

John’s immediately filled with glee, and he squeezes you in a death lock of a hug. You eyes bulge as you attempt to hug him back but your arms, or anything really, are unable to move.

Well, it’s official. The two of you shared an excited kiss before he goes to your living room, revealing the very nice bottle of wine he brought to celebrate the occasion.

It seemed like he was betting on you saying yes.

You’re quite flattered by his confidence, and grab two wine glasses from your liquor cabinet before you two sit on your orange couch and share the bottle with each other.

Fun conversation ensues. You two are a fantastic couple, you guys found that out a few hang-outs in. John thought you were hilarious, and he definitely had his moments. The man was a total flirt, even after you two had been dating for the past month.

Conversation turns into joking, joking turned into play fighting, and next thing you knew he was laying you down on your couch, your legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed his hard on in between your thighs.

“We have too many clothes on, can we change that?” John asked as he stripped his shirt right off of his torso.

What a sight to behold.

Despite John being in his mid-forties, he has stayed in shape for the sake of his career, and it shows. Toned muscles have been revealed above you, and you’re honestly shocked. It’s the shape he’s in and the scars that got you, John noticed as your eyes dart to the different marks on his body.

“Do I rock the bad boy look?” he slyly asks, his hands wiggling under you and lifting your body up and over his shoulder as he brought you to your bedroom, despite your gasp of surprise and hysterical laughter.

You’re finally at an angle where you can see his tattoos, you didn’t know he had any. His back is covered, you can make out a Latin phrase and, a wolf. Was that a wolf? Guess he was Team Jacob all along.

You squeal as he plops you onto your queen-sized mattress, and your lips crash into each other, desperately craving the other’s touch. John’s hands assist you in peeling off your shirt and jeans, tossing the clothing to the wooden floor. His breathing seems to heighten at the image of you in only a seamless bra and a thong, your soft skin, curves, everything is better than he had ever imagined.

He’s going to absolutely ruin you.

Minutes pass, and the sting of John’s beard dragging along your inner thighs is a sensation that is completely unfamiliar to you. Your hands are grappling at your duvet from underneath your now nude body, as John’s tongue is sloppily circling your swollen clit, and some inhuman noises are erupting from your throat.

“H-holy, fuck!” you shriek. You were no virgin but you haven’t been intimate with anyone for a few years.

John couldn’t say the same thing.

You knew what good was even if it has been a long while, and this was fucking immaculate. John dips two long fingers into your core, his eyes boring into yours while he was devouring your cunt.

“You’re such a good fucking girl,” John mumbled into your pussy as he continued to lap you up with his mouth, the vibration of his words almost sending you over the edge. John’s using that signature come here motion with his fingers inside of you, and your hips buck, legs wrapping around his neck and squeezing to force him to stay in his current position.

He had honestly forgotten how strong you are.

He’s fucking obsessed.

His other hand is stroking his completely erect cock, making sure he’s good and ready to claim you as his.

You’re strong but John’s stronger. He’s able to easily push past your thigh’s grasp, you’re almost seeing double from the pure ecstasy he’s been so gracious to gift you. His mouth and chin are slick with your juices, his tongue dragging over his lips while he smiled down at you to savor your taste.

You can barely think. Holy fuck, was this actually happening right now? Did John Wick make a deal with the Devil to have the ultimate skill of giving head?

You blink a few times and catch a glimpse of John’s erection. Jesus Christ, it’s way bigger than you had ever pictured it.

“J-John, that’s not going to fit!” you cry out at him, as much as you want him, that thing is fucking huge. John tilted his head of sweaty, messy, long hair, raising his eyebrows and giving you a chuckle. “Seriously? Baby girl, how long has it been for you?” John questions, spitting into his palm and giving himself a few more tugs to hold himself over. Somehow, your face becomes redder than it was already.

“Uh, a few years,” you admit, embarrassed to even say it out loud. “Just, don’t really have the time.”

That admission throws John completely off. It doesn’t stop him from rubbing his bare tip against your slick and swollen entrance. “Don’t worry, angel, I’ll change that.” he smirked down at you, his eyes are all over your nude body below him on the bed. You only reply with a small squeak in response to the sensation of his tip on you. “Just, trust me, princess. Can you do that, trust me?” John asks, leaning completely over you so he’s just a few inches above your sweaty face. You nod while he pushes into you, and there’s a lot of resistance to him, despite the several minutes of foreplay he had provided you. You grit your teeth and grip his back.

“Hey, hey, you’re tense.” John murmurs, grazing your cheek with the back of his hand. You two maintain eye contact as he’s gently entering you. “Can you take a deep breath?”

You listen to him, taking a deep breath, and even you can tell the difference in feeling down in your core. “See, look at that, you just need to relax for me, baby girl. Take another one for me.” John orders you sweetly.

You oblige.

John lets out a deep breath, your tight cunt is almost overwhelming to him. After your deep breaths, your pussy is letting up and welcoming him now.

“See, you feel that? You’re taking me in all by yourself now, good girl.” John praises while you respond with unintelligible whimpers, his lips peppering kisses onto your sweaty forehead.

You can feel his entire length inside of you at this point, he’s so deep, you swear you can feel him in your cervix. You gasp before he continues, sliding in and out of you at a gentle and steady pace, nipping and sucking onto your neck and collarbone. This is sure to leave marks later but he could care less. People should know who you belong to.

“You like that, baby?” he asks as he thrusts at a faster and deeper rate, you moan affirmatively, you can’t seem to respond in English at the moment, only squeals and whimpers that he can’t help but be attracted to. One of John’s hands travel to your cunny, skillfully rubbing his thumb over your tortured clit. You let out a small scream, your nails digging into his muscular back, he’s doing the same to your hip, so the feeling was mutual.

John can feel your cunt tighten around his fast moving cock, he wasn’t going to last much longer like this, especially with no condom on.

You were in the same boat though.

“J-john, fuck! I wanna cum so bad!” you mewl out, John throws a dark chuckle your way. The timing was spot on.

“You want me on your stomach, face?” He asked.

“Just, just, do it, I don’t care!” You gasp, approaching your climax while he continued to rub your clit as he pounded into your tight little cunny.

“Don’t care, huh? Interesting.” He grunts. “I’ll make you my little Twinkie then, alright?”

You’re quite literally in the middle of a tear jerking orgasm while he says this, so you really don’t have time to react to the absolutely ridiculous phrase. Your trembling legs and shaky grasp on his body is what sends John over, he cursed and grunted, releasing all the way into your cunt. Ropes of cum shoot into you, and you twitch at the sensation.

You’re both trying your best to catch your breath as he pressed his forehead to yours and chuckled.

“Did you just call me a fucking Hostess snack?” you huff out, and he can’t help but burst out laughing.

“Yeah, I think I did.”

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #keanu reeves #jw4 #john wick x y/n

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years ago

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Parabellum 🪙 | Top Gun Maverick Imagine/John Wick AU

Set in an alternate universe where Top Gun is actually part of an underground assassins bureau in NYC

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Parings: Dagger Squad x Wick!reader (platonic/work relationship), John Wick x adoptive cousin!reader (platonic), The Bowery King (platonic), The Adjudicator (platonic) Zero + students (platonic)

Content Warnings: angst, profanity, banter, blood, violence, graphic depiction of injury, mentions of death and murder. AU set in the JW universe where Top Gun is a tactical assassination squad for The High Table. Set during JW: Chapter 3–Parabellum, but everyone is the age they were in TGM (so the year 2013 since all the movies are set within days of each other despite released years apart) | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 8k

Premise: There are two rules everyone who works for the Table must follow: 1. No business on company grounds, 2. All Markers must be fulfilled. For John Wick, there are several debts he is owed as he battles against the whole world after breaking rule number one. And two of them fall under rule number two. John’s in for quite the treat when he heads to the Top Gun hangar to cash on of his debts from none other than his cousin, who happens to be the leader Top Gun’s infamous tactical assassin squad.

Note: Y’all I am so hype for John Wick Chapter 4. JW is one of my fav franchises and Keanu Reeves is my baby daddy 🥵 Maybe once Chapter 4 comes out I’ll do a part two to this since I have no idea what’s gonna happen to John and also if you’ve seen John Wick 3, do y’all think Winston is part of the BK’s plan or did he really betray John for his own selfish needs? like the Parent Trap imagine I did, I basically rewatched all the JW movies cause there was a marathon and got inspired. I really need to focus on my school work though cause I didn’t do so hot on my first writing assignment (it was research methods and my professor didn’t have the instructions very clear 😭) but I had to get this done and out first before taking a small few days of break to do my homework. — Bee 🐝

I do not own any of the characters from TGM or JW, this is for fictional purposes and entertainment. Read over CW before reading and reblogs , likes, and comments are welcomed but please do not steal or repost onto other platforms.

——————————

The phone was on the edge of breaking by how hard she was gripping it, cursing and flinching each time Halo strung a thread through her skin to seal the gaping wound that nearly sliced her face off. She couldn’t see out of her left eye and her lips were split in diagonal from the direction of the blade. Never had she experienced being cut by a katana in all her years of service….but there was always a first for everything.

“What do you want?” She winced again, glaring at the wall with hatred. While the Bowery King, who was experiencing his own hell with seven cuts to him, relayed to her the most recent update of their mutual ‘friend’, Y/n ‘Domino’ Wick thought back to the past last week. As much as she wanted to avoid it, she knew what was coming the second the message appeared on her phone: ‘John Wick—Excommunicado in effect in 1 hour. All services closed. Open Contract set at $14m.’

Seven Days Earlier….

The message was just sent out, everyone in the hangar appearing confused when the cell phones beeped at the same time causing them all to withdraw theirs from their pocket. Upon reading the words, multiple eyes turned to the woman seated at her desk. An opened bottle of whiskey was beside her, a stack of papers to be sorted through in a basket. She appeared emotionless as she read the message once before sliding the phone back in its place and storing it away.

“What’s up with Domino?” Omaha looked at Fanboy and Coyote when the woman rose from her chair before kicking it across the room and disappearing.

Fanboy shook his head, sighing in apparent distress, “You’ve heard of John Wick?” Of course he wasn’t talking about the fact his name was on the message they all got, he meant if Omaha knew who he was.”

“Only from stories. Ain’t he like the best there is.”

“The best and even more,” Coyote commented, already checking to make sure his gun was armed. “Man’s a beast. People call him the Boogeyman—or Baba Yaga to be more exact.”

“Anway,” Fanboy brought the attention back to him, noticing Domino called over Fritz, Rooster, Payback, and Hangman. They all were deep in discussion. “Domino and John were both orphans in Belarus, growing up together at the Ruska Roma.” Knowing what the Ruska Roma was combined with the fact Domino and John knew each other, Omaha made a face of shock. “They’re kinda like cousins—not sure if they are blood related, adoptive, or just grew close enough that they see each other as such. She doesn’t say a lot about her past, but before she became Domino her name was Y/n Wick. Now that Mav and Cyclone retired she’s been in service longer than any of us.”

“Just don’t ask questions, alright,” Coyote warned with a glance, “I know you’re new to the whole thing but keep quiet and you’ll live longer.”

If only Omaha had asked what John Wick looked like. Would’ve saved him a broken arm had he done so because when the poor guy went to do his surveillance, he was shocked to find a bloody man in their parking lot who immediately got in a tousle with when Omaha charged him.

The private hangar was located just a few miles from downtown at a very small private airstrip surrounded by a chain link electric fence, far enough and secluded that nobody in their right mind—unless of course, they were in need of service—migrated to. And unfortunately for Omaha he’d never seen John Wick before…so how was he supposed to know the intruder was the infamous assassin.

The two were going at it for a good three minutes until it ended with Omaha’s arm breaking and John’s belt around his neck. His air was constricted, the man fighting back against the hold in hopes of freeing himself. Before John could do the final twist to end Omaha for good, the sound of a gunshot followed by a speeding bullet against his face had John tripping back, releasing Omaha who took gasps of breath.

“That’s enough you two,” a stern voice said, multiple footsteps approaching. Looking up, John's eyes landed on his cousin flanked by members of her Dagger Squad on either side of her, guns trained on him as a warning for John to not make a sudden move. “We don't want things to get messy now do we?”

It had been years since the cousins had seen each other, well before John retired to marry Helen. They were roughly ten years apart in age, making Y/n around 40 now that John just turned 50. He was her mentor and protector during their time in the Ruska Roma, having been brought to the U.S from Belarus when John was 11 and Y/n was barely a year old. It’s unsure if they were even related but considering John looked after her like a family member people just assumed they were. Then when she got older she ditched her birth name and started going by Y/n Wick.

When John had heard several years before he retired that Y/n became a member of the Top Gun tactical execution squad, part of him felt he had failed her. Of course it was likely for her to join the underground world they were pretty much forced into by being a part of the Ruska Roma, but he hoped she’d not dive too deep. She was only 22 when she joined, becoming one of the best associates in the organization. Then just before he retired she was promoted to second in command, now four years later she was the leader after her predecessors decided to step down.

Looking at her now before him, he could tell Y/n had become the hardened contract killer she was destined to be. Reputation nearly rivaling that of his own. As a member of the Top Gun Tactical Dagger Squad Y/n earned the callsign ‘Domino,’ learning how to fly a plane due to the fact Top Gun provided services to associates by transporting them to and from locations. As highly skilled assassins the team are often hired by mobs, including the High Table when they don’t feel like sending their personal squads, to take out private contracts. Sometimes Y/n was directly offered contracts especially by those who wanted to keep their dirty work as hidden as possible.

Taking in the current Dagger Squad, John recognized most of them: Rooster, Payback, Fritz, Hangman, Coyote, Yale and Phoenix. When they last saw each other eight years before they’d all been recent recruits. Now they were molded killers. The other bunch were new faces—including the one he just broke the arm of. They had to have joined within the last several years. All wearing flight suits with their patches on the left breast, John read: Harvard, Bob, Fanboy, Halo, and lastly Omaha.

“You good, Omaha?” Y/n asked, not taking her gaze off of John. The man moaned in response.

“I think my arm is broken, boss.”

“Halo, Bob,” she simply said, the woman next to her and the man on the end dropping their guns to move over to the fallen man. When Halo walked off, Rooster took a step to the right so he was now directly next to Domino. On the opposite side to her left was Payback.

The two haul Omaha off, disappearing into the hangar. “Well,” Y/n puts her hands on her hips. “You sure know how to make an entrance. Hello, John.”

“Hello, Y/n.” She glared at the name, but made no move to correct it.

“Did you really have to break my guy’s arm?”

John gave a light shrug, putting his hand to his injured shoulder that was bleeding from a stab wound. “He came after me.”

Y/n gave an unhumorous laugh, shaking her head, “John, you got a fourteen million dollar bounty on your head. Can’t really blame him for trying—If I didn’t have a sense of why you’re here I’d give my crew the word and let them light you up before finishing you off myself.” It was harsh coming from a family member, but John couldn’t blame her. They’d been estranged for years now with their last encounters anything but friendly.

What John didn’t know though was Omaha had no idea what he looked like. Y/n was just trying to get under his skin.

“Go ahead and pull it out,” she challenged, eyes narrowing at the man. The squad kept their weapons raised, but relaxed their stance at her order.

Slowly John reaches into his jacket pocket, removing one of two Markers, making sure it was the right one before presenting it to the group. He saw the woman immediately stiffen, face tightening as the anger never left her eyes. In fact it looked like it increased by the sight of the object.

A debt she had to pay.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve coming here, John. Some. Fucking. Nerve.”

“Y/n—.”

She cuts him off with a harsh tone, “You’re excommunicado, John. Services are now closed to you. As of five minutes ago that marker is void.” That last statement was actually on the fence.

There were two big rules in their world: 1. No business on company grounds. 2. All Markers must be fulfilled.

Given John broke rule #1 he was labeled excommunicado with the original contract of $7m by Santino D’Antonio doubled to $14m. Any and all services were now closed to him, even as simple as receiving medical treatment by a company doctor.

But what of the Markers?

John had two. One from Y/n and one from Sofia Al-Azwar, both given to John at different times, both where John had to transport and hide their children. In Y/n’s case she had gotten pregnant just shortly after leaving the Ruska Roma and was on her way to becoming a contract killer. She was barely 19 and in no way able to raise a child. So she called John and swore the blood oath to him that she would return the favor no matter the price or cost when the time came. Over 20 years later she still didn’t know what happened to her son. Sofia had originally come to Y/n to help her out when she needed to get her daughter away, but Y/n assured her John was better for the job, confessing he had done the same for her.

Would the Markers still have to be completed although he was banished and being hunted by the High Table? The same ones who order hits on those who don’t fulfill the Markers when presented by the person they owe? It was a tough situation.

It was Domino’s current situation.

John pleaded to her, opening the object to reveal her bloody fingerprint, “This is your blood. Your bond. When you needed help, Y/n, I was there. Now I need your help. You owe it to me, please.”

Y/n inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling, “Top Gun works for the Table, John. We have been in service to them for decades. They will come for us—for me, for helping you.” In the corner of her eye she saw some of the crew stiffen, hands gripping their weapons tighter at the fear of facing the Table.

John gave her a look, “They will come for you if you don’t.” That had her nearly falter, seeing a look of angst overtake her.

“Some family you are, John. Bringing death to my door. Risking the lives of my team!” She couldn’t help but shout, no longer holding back her anger. All she could think about was the fact the Table likely already knew he was there. They had spies all over the city. Once he leaves they’ll be sending someone even if she didn’t help him. “What the fuck do you want anyway? What’s the favor you so desperately need after all these years that’s made you put me and my crew in danger.”

“My ticket,” he simply tells her, watching her face become ashen. “I know you still have it. I need it now, Y/n. That’s all I ask for.”

A long time ago John gave Y/n his ticket every orphan of the Ruska Roma receives upon ‘graduation’. A symbol of the favor the organization owes them after spending years under them. Y/n had cashed in on hers a long time ago, but John had her keep his safe. Believing he’d never have to use it.

It was kinda ironic when she started thinking about it.

“You could’ve had it all you know,” she dryly laughs, gazing hard at the man she saw as a cousin. “You got out—away from this. Tell me, Jordani, was it worth it?” She waits for a reply but it doesn’t come. Of course it wouldn’t. She could see it in his eyes it wasn’t. “What were you hoping to gain by hunting down the Tarasov punk? You should’ve fucking known it wouldn’t have ended once you finished the job. You opened the damn door, John. You gave Santino everything he needed to check in on his favor that you owed him. It honestly baffles me that you, John Wick, thought it was a good idea to give that man a marker. You’re reasoning? I'll never know.”

She has to pause to cool down a bit before continuing, “You could’ve asked anybody else to help you that night—you could’ve asked me, John. You had the marker all this time. Why the fuck didn’t you use it then?” She raises a hand as a signal for him to keep quiet all while ordering the squad to stand down. “Don’t answer that. I honestly don’t wanna know. It’s your fucking karma at the end of the day.” Again she gives a dry laugh, “I just find it hilarious honestly. The reason you’re in this shit show to begin with is because you owed Santino—which would’ve never happened if you didn’t let your impulses take over and go after Iosef Tarasov. You let some punk ass kid bring you back. A domino effect at its finest,” she has to laugh at her own joke, but nothing about it was funny. “Now here you are, cashing in on all the favors you’re owed. Me….The Director…I take it Sofia is next on your list?”

No answer. Y/n tightens her lips, nodding slowly, “I thought so. She’s over across the sea. You think she’s gonna just let you waltz in, John?” Y/n smirks, “but first you gotta survive getting out of New York. And unlike the other night when it was just the city after your ass, you got the whole world wanting a piece of you now. Fourteen million dollars,” she hums, tilting her head like she’s deep in thought. “Saying it out loud…it’s tempting.”

“Fifteen,” Fanboy says, making all eyes turn to him. “The contract just went up.” Y/n nods, turning back to John with a shrug.

“You hear that, John? I wonder who’s responsible for adding the bonus.”

“You’re not gonna kill me, Y/n,” he says unfazed, making her narrow her eyes a tad.

“And what makes you so confident I won't? Pretty bold of you to assume when you got ten guns on you.”

John tells her like it is, “Because you would’ve already done it by now.” He got her there. She would’ve given the signal the moment they surrounded him if she truly wanted him dead. And as much as Y/n was pissed off with John, he was the last person she had who she considered family. And she was indebted to him.

Hating the fact he was right, Y/n just nods, “Fair enough, John.”

“Look,” he holds up the Marker, “you do this for me and we’re done. You and I are even and the Table can’t fault you for following their rules.” His reasoning makes her scoff.

“You don’t really know if that’s true, John. But thanks for trying to lighten the situation,” she was being sarcastic, having had enough of the ordeal. “I’ll be sure to tell whoever they send exactly what you said. Maybe I'll live to see the next day.” They just stare at each other, letting the reality set in.

“Fritz,” the man beside Payback responds with a look at her, “bring me the blue book with gold trimming in the safe. The one on the top shelf—you know the one.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he holsters his gun and walks toward the hangar.

“Coyote, go get the keys for the Ducati Diavel,” when he goes Y/n then calls to the woman beside Rooster, “and Phoenix, grab me a 9mm from one of the units.”

“On it.”

“Fanboy, and Harvard,” the two snap to attention awaiting orders, “Go check on Halo and Bob, see if they need help dealing with Omaha and call the Continental doctor if need be.” She sees John falter at the mention of the doctor, remembering he was just there and had to shoot him in a non-fatal area on the docs insistent to cover for the face he helped John. “Actually scratch that…take him to the urgent care that’s off the road past the gate. Tell them Domino sent you.”

“Yes ma’am,” they both say and head out, leaving Payback, Yale, Hangman and Rooster on either side of Y/n, the woman standing in the middle between the four.

“What are you doing?” John asks.

“Paying my debt,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Ensuring the bargain has been fulfilled. You may have given me the impression all you want is your ticket, but I know you were hoping for something a little more. Consider it done.”

John shakes his head with a frown, “I wasn’t gonna—.”

“Mmmmhmmm,” she tightens her lips. “Sure you weren’t. How the hell else are you gonna get to The Director from all the way out here with nothing but a belt to defend you, John? I’m surprised you even managed to make it here within the hour.” Holding out her hand, Phoenix places the 9mm in the open palm. At that moment Coyote pulls up the motorcycle, keeping the keys in the ignition when he puts it on its stand. Then Fritz arrives with the book, handing it over to Y/n’s other open palm.

Approaching John, Y/n extends both hands to pass the gun and book to him. He holsters the gun first then opens the book to remove the fake page revealing the compartment with his ticket, aka the rosary, and a wad of gold coins. He pockets both the rosary and coins, before handing back the book and Y/n holds it out for Fritz to take back.

“You’re going to war, John,” she watches him open the Marker, pricking his thumb on the needle before placing his bloody fingerprint onto the open space beside her own. “With the whole damn world. Even if you make it to where you’re going…it won't end there. This is only the beginning.”

“I know,” he sighs, handing her the now complete Marker. “Consequences.” She gives a tight smile, fingers encasing around the object.

“Consequences. You should’ve thought about those before blowing a hole into Santino’s head. Would’ve saved you all the trouble.” He doesn’t react with the exception of a curt nod, knowing she was right. But he made his bed, now he has to lie in it. “Goodbye, John.”

“Goodbye, Y/n.”

They all watch as he mounts the bike and takes off into the darkness, becoming smaller with each minute until finally he’s out of their sights. Finally Y/n lets out the breath she had been holding, angry tears stinging her eyes that she refuses to let the team see. They’d never seen her scared before, she wasn’t gonna let them see now. Even though they had every right to be just as scared.

Gathering herself, she cranks her neck to the sky and closes her eyes for a brief moment before turning back to the remaining Squad members, the one who were coming up on ten years whereas all the others she sent away were only a couple years in. “Prepare the bunker,” she watched all their eyes widen, glancing at each other hesitantly.

“Are you sure, Dom?” Rooster questions, looking a bit unease. They hadn’t used the bunker in so long, it was gonna take time to prepare it. Not even the Table knew about it. Top Gun predecessors from when the underground crime world started built it for caution in case they were to have troubles with the Table. It was basically a whole level floor underneath the hangar equipped with everything they needed from food, water, bedding, clothing, and of course weapons and arsenal. They could survive weeks underground and no one would know. They had security surrounding the premises that they could access from below ground.

Domino was confident the Table had already been tipped off by an associate. They were gonna have to act quick.

“Very,” she walked a few steps, stopping so she was directly in front of the group. “Expect us to have company when the sun rises—maybe in a few days if we’re lucky. I’ll deal with the Table,” she assures, looking them each in the eyes. “When that happens I need you all to be in the bunker where you’re safe. And you will not come out until they have left the premises—regardless of what happens to me.” Immediately there were sounds of protest.

“Dom, that’s suicide,” Rooster states the obvious. Phoenix pitches in, “You’re not serious, boss.”

“There’s no way in hell we’re leaving you alone with them,” Hangman voices, going as far as taking a step closer to the woman. Fritz and Yale back him up while Payback comments, “You don’t even know if they’re coming.”

“I didn't ask for your input. From any of you,” she shuts them up. Rubbing a hand over her face, Y/n gives a tired sigh. “You don’t think I don’t know what they’re capable of? I have been in this life longer than any of you—I’ve seen everything you can imagine when it comes to the business we’re in. Or at least I thought until John Wick decided to cause hell two weeks ago,” she mutters the last part under breath. No one could’ve predicted that when John exterminated the Tarasov crime family that he’d be the Table’s #1 target. Where the rules were no longer black and white.

“My point is,” she calms down the raging thoughts in her head. “I’m the one who helped him. They are gonna come after me, but that doesn’t mean you all have to be in the crossfire. If they see you here, even if you’re not doing anything, they’ll kill you,” her tone turns harsher, to get it through their heads the seriousness of it. “I don’t want any of you going against the Table, not when I’m gonna need you all if I survive the meeting.”

“What do you think is gonna happen?” Yale is the one to ask the question.

“I don’t know,” she speaks truthfully. “But if John is going where I think he is…then tonight was just the beginning.”

Seven Days Later….

She honestly expected them earlier. Rumors spread in the days after John’s excommunication. An Adjudicator of the Table visiting those who assisted him. At the Ruska Roma, the Director had her hands sliced through with her entourage slaughtered just the day after John cashed in his ticket. Then the Bowery King was set to pay a price for refusing to step down after a warning of seven days to get his affairs in order. Many of his men dead within minutes. That morning he received seven cuts for the seven bullets he gave John the night he executed Santino, and was left for dead. Was he alive? Y/n wasn’t even sure. All she knew was Winston had until nightfall to step down from the Continental before they paid him a visit.

Right now though, in the early evening of the seventh day, Y/n sat in her chair in the middle of the hangar. Around her were Zero’s students, the man himself closest to her while the Adjudicator stood before her. Unbeknownst to the group the team of assassins they expected to have seen were down below watching the scene unfold through the monitors mounted on the concrete wall. They’d been underground for the whole week, Y/n not risking them being out in the open when she knew the Table would arrive at some point.

After the first day she was confident it was to spook her. Especially after discovering the Director was punished for her role in transporting John across the Atlantic. Yes, they were trying to scare her alright. They damn well knew she aided John Wick. They were just waiting for the right time to make their presence known.

“Where is the Dagger Squad, Domino?” The Adjudicator paced in front of her, eyes drifting over the empty hangar. It was too quiet for her liking.

“On a mission.”

“There were no recent contracts from my knowledge for your department. When did this happen?” She pressed, turning to the assassin. Y/n could tell she was examining her body language, hoping to catch her in a lie.

“A private one came in this morning. I sent them off just before you arrived.”

“From?”

“The Triads,” she answered confidently.

“Where to?”

“Out west. They requested the location to be confidential. You understand, right?”

The Adjudicator nodded slowly, not really sure if she believed the woman, but kept her gaze focused. Two planes were moved to make it look like they were gone. Domino hoped they would take the bait.

“I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

“I have my suspicions,” Y/n replied, remaining calm and unthreatening. “It wasn’t hard to guess after whispers coming in from the city.” It was obvious she was referring to the Bowery King and Director.

“And do you have anything to say for yourself about why you broke the rules and aided John Wick in his escape from New York? I am well aware of your personal history with him.”

Y/n willed herself not to react to the last comment, focusing on the question. “I owed him a debt. Which you already know—it’s why you’re here. Maybe you can tell everyone at HQ to add more details on the fine print of what to do when the bearer of your Marker breaks the rules. As far as I’m concerned,” she dares to shrug, “I followed them.”

“So you have a point,” the tattooed woman gives a tight expression, not liking her attitude. “You may have upheld the rule of the Table but that doesn’t mean you didn't do more than what you had to. Especially due to the personal connection involved. John Wick was seen coming to this location on foot and leaving twenty minutes later on a motorcycle.”

Y/n tilts her head, now looking bored. “What are you getting at? That’s part of what he wanted.”

“Tell me what all he wanted, Domino, in order for the debt to be paid.”

Y/n kept eye contact, the two almost in a staring contest with neither wanting to blink as she listed off what all she provided. “The book containing his ticket, coins, and a 9mm that he had me store ages ago for ‘emergencies,’ and a mode of transportation.”

“You didn’t offer one of your pilots to escort him to Morocco?”

“He didn’t indicate Morocco was where he wanted to go,” she fired back. Now she was playing dumb. Of course she knew he was heading there since Sofia was now the manager of the Moroccan Continental. “He just wanted those things and then said he’d be on his way. And because I didn’t know if the Marker was invalid given his status, I delivered with his request. Fulfilling the Marker because that is your rule.”

The Adjudicator takes a moment to think before placing her hands behind her back. “I may not have proof you acted against the Table, Domino, but rest assured we will find out if you did. Until then, I will leave you with a warning of what is to come when that happens.”

Y/n’s heart kicks in pace, stiffening when Zero comes to stand in front of her. Before she could react a searing pain erupted in her face, head snapping to the side by the force causing the woman to fall from her chair. “GAHHH!!” She audibly reacted as she landed on the ground, hands going straight to her face only to be drenched in the blood pouring from the gaping cut. She couldn’t even open her left eye, her right one watery causing her vision to be blurry. Looking up she saw Zero wiping his katana with his sleeve.

He fucking sliced her face.

The iron taste in her mouth was due to the fact her lips were split. It was a diagonal direction of the blade against skin, going from the edge of her right jaw all the way to her left temple—completely cutting her lips and slicing her eye. Speaking of her eye it was on fire, figuratively speaking. Glancing around she silently thanked the fact her eyeball wasn’t staring back at her meaning it was still in its socket. But judging from the pain and the fact when she tried to open it she was met with darkness indicated the eye was long gone.

Underground, members of the Dagger Squad had to refrain from getting into the elevator and rush in guns blazing. They were given orders, and if the Adjudicator did not report back to the Table they would know something happened and send their full force against them.

“She’s alive,” Rooster said in relief when Y/n moved, them all watching her hands go to her face. Phoenix changed the camera to a different angle and they saw the full extent of her injury. Everyone grimaced, some cursing at the sight of Domino’s bloodied face. It was literally sliced at an angle.

“Fuck,” Fanboy muttered, Halo already moving to gather medical supplies.

“She said to wait until they were gone,” Payback reminded them when a few started to move to the elevator. The Adjudicator, Zero, and his students had just left the hangar, but had yet to be fully off the premises. On the monitor it showed Y/n stumbling as she tried to locate the closet with towels and supplies. Blood trailed after her, leaving a line in its wake. It wasn’t until the cars passed the gate and were well off into the city that the squad rushed to the elevator.

“Domino!” Y/n heard someone shout, mind a bit hazy from the blood loss and beginning to feel numb.

“I got you, boss,” Fritz picked her up bridal style and rushed her to the makeshift medical room with Halo and Bob running behind him. Placing her on the bed they got to work. Halo started an IV while Bob did his best to apply pressure on the wound.

“She’s gonna need blood,” Bob said, cursing by the amount she was losing. “Who here shares her blood type?”

“Hangman, Phoenix, and Coyote,” Halo lists off, grabbing the syringe with a light sedative to help Y/n with the pain.

“We’re gonna need all three then. Fritz, can you—.”

“Already on it,” he doesn’t let him finish the sentence, yelling out their names who all appear within seconds. With Harvard the two begin setting up to remove a pint of blood from each.

“You with us, Dom?” Halo takes a light to shine in each of her eyes, apologizing when Y/n moans when her left eye is touched.

“As best as I can be. Just do what you have to do. If I die, I die.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Bob tells her. “You’re gonna be fine, Dom.”

For a good couple hours they were working on repairing the wound. Y/n was a little dozy from the drugs, but managed to stay away during the whole thing. When it came time for the stitches, Halo was about halfway done when Rooster came in with Y/n’s phone. “It’s the Bowery King.”

“Help me up please,” she motioned for them to help her sit up, Halo careful with the sting and needle in her hands. Bob and Fritz pulled to an upright position before she asked for the phone. Rooster handed it over, moving to stand with Phoenix and Payback against the wall. Taking a moment to catch her breath, Y/n placed the phone to ear. “What do you want?”

She received a chuckle, “You sound as bad as I feel.”

“Just fucking get to it. I can’t move my mouth without wanting to scream so let me hear what you have to say and let us be done with it.”

“Have you heard the latest on Mr Wick?”

“He’s the reason Berreda lost his balls.” She received another chuckle.

“Well our friend is stateside again. Lucky bastard cut a deal with the one who sits above the Table.”

Y/n stilled, blood running cold. “He found the Elder.” Those in the room who knew what she spoke of shared the same reaction.

“He did,” the King muses. “And the deal for him to remain breathing is to be forever bound to the Table. The first on his list of bidding is Winston.”

Y/n had to pull the phone away for a moment, in disbelief at the news. She almost wanted to laugh at how things seemed to turn out for John. “He’ll never do it. Winston knows how to manipulate him to get what he wants. I wouldn’t put it past the old man to betray him in the end.”

“I’m happy you and I are on the same page. I was thinking the same exact thing—which is why when the time comes, I’ll be there to pick John up.”

Right as he finishes his sentence all the phones beep, those in the room removing theirs to see the text. Domino looked at her own phone, shaking her head when she read: “The New York Continental status has been changed to Deconsecrated. In effect in thirty minutes.”

“Would you look at that,” the Kind hummed. “Just what I expected. I give it til dawn before they get tired.”

Y/n was starting to get annoyed, wanting him to cut to the chase. “So why are you calling me now?”

“Because I want us to be a step ahead of them, Domino.”

Y/n takes a moment before saying, “I’m listening.”

“I’ve been doing some thinking over the past week—and after this morning these cuts have sealed the deal,” he laughed at his own irony. “All this High Table bullshit….under the Table is where shit gets done and you know it. All of us are pawns in their game. I say it’s time we dethrone them once and for all.”

Y/n straightens her posture, processing what the King was implying. “You’re asking for war.” She noticed her team visibly reacting to the statement. “You’re wanting to go to war with the Table.”

“Quite so.”

“And you want me and my team to help you.” There was no need to say it like a question.

“Just think about it,” he tells her. “Wait the night out or wait for my call. We’ll discuss more then.” Before she could reply the constant beep filled her ears signaling he had hung up. Sliding the phone in place, Y/n stared ahead, this time not even flinching as Halo worked on her.

It was quiet for the remainder of the hour, the beeping of phones signifying the deconsecration of the Continental was in effect. When Halo cut the last bit of thread on Y/n, the woman downed the painkillers and gulped the water bottle in seconds.

“You’re all dismissed. Stay close to the hangar—I don’t trust that they’re not lurking by the gates.” When they all left she changed into a fully black outfit, ending with a leather trench coat. Then she shuffled through one of the cabinets to find an eyepatch, which was a fucking sight when she put it on.

“I look like that dude from those comics Fanboy reads,” she announced when she walked into the area everyone was in, many of them stopping what they were doing. Phoenix, Bob, and Payback were cleaning the blood off the floors while Hangman and Fritz watched the monitors. Halo was checking over Omaha. Yale, Harvard, and Coyote were going through inventory and finally Rooster and Fanboy had finished up calls with potential clients. All eyes turned to Domino, Fanboy having to hold back his comment of saying, “Nick Fury,” though he did have a small smile on his face.

“How you feeling, boss?” Payback questioned, taking a seat on a chair after discarding the bloody water from when he mopped the floors. His answer was a groan, followed by her saying, “Like I should’ve let y’all shoot John Wick and spare me from becoming a raggedy Ann doll.”

Falling into a chair, Y/n thanked the glass of whiskey from Fritz and accepted a cigarette, leaning forward to light it when he offered the lighter flame. Checking the time on the wall, it was approaching midnight. God did she blackout or something? Where the hell did the time go? By now the Continental was likely a graveyard.

“I’m sorry about this week guys,” she said softly, letting the smoke leave her lips, wincing from the sting as the stitches keeping them together served as a reminder of what happened. “I should’ve told you all about the Marker ages ago.”

“It wasn’t our business, Dom,” Hangman pulls up a stool, setting himself on it once it appeared the coast was clear. “Those things are between those involved.”

“Yeah,” Coyote pitched in. “None of us blame you. We probably would’ve done the same. We just hate that you were punished for upholding the deal.”

“It’s not completing the Marker they were upset about,” she taps the cigarette against the ashtray. “Had I not, it would’ve given them the excuse to kill me even though there is no official rule about Markers and those who bear one that are excommunicated. It was the fact they know I did more than what was needed. I could’ve just given John the ticket and sent him off, but instead I willingly armed him with the means to have better odds. That’s why they’re pissed.”

“But they have no proof,�� Harvard said from the side. “How would they know you did?”

“They know our history,” she simply sighed. “That’s enough for them to have suspicion. Whether the Adjudicator did it on her own accords or the Table ordered her to give me a good warning that they’re onto me…what’s done is done.” She finished her cigarette, “Now we figure out how to keep them off our backs.”

Several of the daggers looked at each other, wondering how to ask the question they all wanted to know since her phone call. Rooster is the one to speak up, “What about the Bowery King?”

“What about him, Rooster?”

“He’s wanting war with the High Table,” he crosses his arms, ignoring the looks from those who were not present when Domino was on the phone. They appeared surprised, and a little uneasy.

“He’s out of his damn mind,” she told him harshly, trying to not show she was tempted at stepping down from her position to join the mission. Hatred at the Table was rising in her, the King making a fair point at how everything gets done under the Table but they get to reek the benefits of what they do.

Y/n wanted to fight back, she really did. But she wasn’t gonna take her team down with her. They still had lives and going against the Table would not be easy. If she were to take the Bowery King up on his offer she would do it alone and spare them all.

“You know he’s right,” Halo pitches in, surprising the woman. Then she remembered Halo was right next to her and probably heard the entire conversation. “Everyone of us, those in service and in management, are just pawns for the Table and those who sit above it. We’re the ones who keep this business alive while they get to sit back and relax.”

Catching onto that Halo was leaking what the Bowery King told Domino, Phoenix stands from her chair. “You’ve been in service longer than all of us, Domino. You said it yourself. Haven’t you realized things are starting to get out of hand? I mean look!” She gestures to Y/n’s face, “You followed their rules and they nearly took half your face off. Who gives a fuck if you did more than what you had to—John Wick is your family. How could they not expect you to want to help him?”

The others voice agreement, Fritz nudging Y/n lightly with his arm, “It’s not fair, Dom. It hasn’t been fair in years. I say we should do it.” He specifies when she gives a confused look, “Join the Bowery King.”

“No,” she shakes her head immediately, “No—if anyone is going against the Table, it’s gonna be me. I’ll step down and you guys continue what we’ve done here for decades. I will not have you all die because of my cousin's mess.”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” Hangman politely grabbed her attention. “It’s not up to you. Even if you step down, we still can join him if we please. So why not do it together. Because we’re not letting you go alone.” Everyone agrees with murmurs and nods, causing Y/n to drop her head between her shoulders.

“We’re talking war. Against the High Table—not some single crime syndicate we’ve dealt with before, this is all twelve seat holders, the Elder, and all their subordinates. Which we—,” she gestures to all of them, “we are those subordinates. This goes past New York…it’s the whole fucking world.”

“We know,” Payback says with confidence. “We know the risk, Dom. We’re willing to take it.”

Y/n connects her gaze with each member, seeing the determination in their eyes causing an emotion she couldn’t describe to swarm through her. What she didn’t know was they each were on board the second Rooster and Halo revealed the Bowery King’s offer. Seeing their friend and comrade nearly die by following the rules they all swore to obey ignited a fire in them. They were after revenge. Who’s to say the Table wouldn’t come after them in the future. Better to stop them now before that could happen.

The assassin was having trouble grasping it all. This was her family. The people she trusted most in the world. John was once that person, and right now he has a lot to do to gain it back, but if he joins the cause then they could be unstoppable. And from what the King told her, he was confident by dawn John would be involved.

“Okay,” she says softly. “We do this as a team. The same way we’ve always done. But no one—,” she lifts a finger to emphasize her point, “no one steps out of line or goes rogue because an opportunity arises. We have to play this safe. We need to be tactical in our approach. Even if it takes weeks, months, hell, even a year or more before we see some action, then we will be patient. The Bowery King, John, maybe even Winston if the old man doesn't become a snake, all of us know the best thing to do is hit the Table when they are at their most vulnerable. When that happens….it will break before our eyes.”

Seven Hours Later….

John looked lifeless as he laid on the cold ground. Who could blame him really after he fell over ten stories while hitting obstacles that broke his fall. Not even five minutes after he landed a white van pulled up in the narrow alley, Harvard and Yale hopping out from the back to drag the man into the vehicle. Before they could close the doors a gray pit bull jumped in, licking John’s face. Recognizing the dog as the one Y/n warned them about, they shut the doors and yelled for Coyote to start driving.

When they got to meet up point, John was handed off to one of the Bowery King’s surviving men, wheeling John into the underground tunnel they had all taken up camp. Coyote ditched the van with all three sneaking into the tunnel, careful for prying eyes. Once in the tunnel they got to work with half of the Daggers while the other half accompanied Domino where the King was located. Like the Top Gun boss, the King had stitches on his face and neck. His cuts were smaller than the one she received, but enough to do damage.

“How you doing, John?” He asked from his throne. John’s dog made himself comfortable on the couch. Off to the side, barely seen with the limited light stood Rooster, Hangman, Payback, Fritz, and Phoenix. “You look as bad as I feel,” he started to laugh the same way he did over the phone, setting down his orange soda, “Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Raise a hand if you can hear me, John.”

With a tremor, John lifted his left hand to raise his index and middle fingers, making the King go, “Oh shit. They took a finger. Ain’t that a bitch?” His laugh increased in volume when John maneuvered the hand to show only his middle finger. The rumble of his chest from laughing made the King groan from the pain of his injuries there.

“Oh John. Fucking. Wick. So, the old boy keeps his hotel and you take the fall. Can’t say I blame him I would’ve done the same thing if I was in his shoes,” he pauses to inhale as he moves to stand from his throne, “But this High Table shit. Seven cuts. You should see what they did to your cousin. In fact, she’s right here.” A cane is in his hands when he begins to move closer to John.

The heels of Y/n’s boots echo, the light hitting her stitched face when she comes to stand beside the King. “Damn,” she mutters with a grimace. “That fall sure did a number on you, Johnny boy.” John doesn’t look at her, he keeps his head down the entire time. “Who would’ve thought we’d end up here? I was hoping to be rid of ya after last week. Funny how fate works.”

The Bowery King chuckles, focusing back on John. “Under the table is where shit gets done. And they about to find out if you cut a king, you better cut him to the quick. So,” he lowers himself to the ground, holding onto his cane. “Let me ask you, John, how you feel?” John pants, face still hidden by his raggedy hair. The King speaks with menace, “‘Cause I am really. Pissed. Off. Are you pissed off, Dom?”

Y/n crouches down, elbows resting on her hips as her one eye stares down on her bloodied cousin. Her tone is the same as the King’s, “I’m really fucking pissed off. You pissed, John?”

“Hmm?” The King awaits his answer, hands shaking from how angry he was. “Are you?”

The fallen man finally starts to move, the two watching closely as he holds himself up on his hands. When he turns to face them, they finally see his bruised face, but they are more drawn to his eyes. He’s absolutely pissed the fuck off.

“Yeah.”

………………

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @poppyalice2001, @americaarse, @elenavampire21, @back-tooo-black

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sjsmith56 · 1 year ago

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The Feast - Chapter 3, Lord Buchanan

Summary: Ileana attends a feast at the palace where she makes the acquaintance of Baron Zemo. Disturbed at the Baron’s intentions, Buchanan pretends to get drunk so that they can retire early. In the privacy of their room they consummate their relationship. Morning brings word of Zemo overstepping his boundaries, leading Buchanan to take care of matters once and for all.

Length: 5K

Characters: Lord Buchanan, Ileana, King Steven, Queen Peg, Baron Zemo, Alice (maidservants), Sir Samuel.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this chapter contains sexual content meant for mature readers over the age of 18. Description of sexual assault on a servant. Remember, this takes place in a medieval world where women were mostly seen as chattel. There is talk of the Queen trying to instil rights for women servants so it’s not all dark.

Author’s notes: In case some of you are wondering if things are happening quickly, the answer is yes, they are. This is a world that is also affected by magic and in later chapters there will be speculation that the magic is trying to push change in the kingdom. It will take several more chapters and some discoveries to uncover why. Photo edit of Baron Zemo by Instagram artist nixakimbo.

<<Chapter 2

🏰 🍗 🍷 ❤️‍🔥

When the call came to dress for the feast Lord Buchanan escorted Ileana up to their room. A male servant and a female servant waited to attend to them. The young woman escorted Ileana into a separate room where the gowns hung. There was also a steaming hot bath ready for her. Helping her undress the woman piled Ileana's hair up and wrapped it in a hair covering then helped her into the bath.

"Lord Buchanan loves the smell of wildflowers," she stated. "I have poured the essence of it into the water. Please bathe at your leisure while I prepare your clothes for you. Which gown will you be wearing M'Lady?"

"The blue one, please," replied Ileana, leaning back in the luxurious bath.

Two days on the road had been hard on her personal hygiene and it felt wonderful to soak in the fragrant water. Thinking about what she knew about baths she remembered reading somewhere that the medieval times were dirty and baths were not common.

"May I ask you a question?" she said to young servant. "First, what is your name? Second, I thought baths were not common in this time."

"My name is Alice, M'Lady," said the woman. "It is true, we didn't know about baths but the number of modern world people reaching our lands brought the knowledge of their benefits to us. Even the poorest peasant will have a weekly bath now. May I ask what your world is like?"

"It could be better," replied Ileana. "I work and have my own place. Sometimes I go home to see my mother. We watch television and go to movies, or out to a club and dance. I'm sorry, none of that probably made any sense to you. We don't work every day or all day, just enough to pay the bills."

"I've heard of television but it doesn't make sense to me," said Alice. "Still I would like to see a movie and not think of my problems for a few hours."

"What problems?" asked Ileana.

"Certain men are always pressing me to bed with them," replied the young servant. "The Queen has decreed we have control over who we bed and when but some men won't take no for an answer. I've tried to deal with it on my own but .... I'm saving myself for a man in my village. We loved each other from childhood. He almost has enough saved to marry me but if I am taken before we wed he will not want me."

"Are the men here, in the palace?" asked Ileana, expecting to hear at least one name.

"The Baron is one, his servant is the other," whispered Alice. "Both of them are wicked men. They watch me with lust in their eyes and it frightens me."

"Have you told the Queen?"

"Yes, but even her hands are tied when it comes to the Baron," said Alice. "No more talk of that villain, please. Let me help you out and dry you."

She dried Ileana, then pulled a clean chemise over her head. The gown was heavy and needed both of them to get it over her head. Alice helped Ileana put soft stockings on and embroidered shoes. Then she sat her down on a chair in front of a mirror and unpinned the hair covering. Expertly braiding sections and twisting others she fashioned Ileana's hair and fastened it with thin silver coloured ribbon-type cords. When she stood up and looked in the mirror Ileana saw a medieval princess staring back at her. Alice smiled.

"After the feast, when you and Lord Buchanan return I will be here to help you disrobe," she said. "Then I will leave you until morning."

"Thank you, Alice," said Ileana.

Alice opened the door and she stepped out to Lord Buchanan being helped into his jacket. She gasped when she saw him in his formal clothes. He wore black leather pants and boots with an embroidered black tunic, covered by a black and grey vest. The jacket was a rich brocade of a gold, black and grey pattern. He had trimmed his beard and his hair was freshly washed. His eyes lit up when he saw her and he offered her his hand. Taking hers he bent over it and kissed it.

"You look beautiful, Ileana," he said. "The Sorceress outdid herself with this gown."

"Thank you," she replied. "I feel beautiful."

Offering her his arm he escorted her out of the room and towards the great hall. The closer they came the louder the hall sounded. When they entered they were greeted by a multitude of musicians, acrobats and dancers weaving their way around the guests. There were performers hanging from the ceiling, wrapped in silks. It reminded Ileana of a Cirque de Soleil performance but she was seeing it in its oldest form. Theatre designed to impress a person with the power of the throne, and the man who sat on it. The King and Queen saw them come in and waved the couple over. Lord Buchanan bowed deeply while Ileana curtsied.

"Your Majesty," said Buchanan loudly. "This is new. Wherever did you find these performers?"

"It's from a modern world company called Cirque de Soleil," said the King just as loudly. "The Sorceress saw it in one of her visions and placed the moving images into my mind. Fantastic isn't it? She found performers in our world and showed them what we wanted. They said they could do it and this is what they came up with."

Ileana smiled and noticed the Queen stifling her smile. She turned slightly and noticed a man watching her. His hair was shorter than Lord Buchanan's but his clothes were just as rich. He sat partially reclined on his chair and gave the impression of being bored with everything. His eyes didn't turn away when they made eye contact but he did smirk. Buchanan looked down at her and saw where she looked. Turning in the same direction he saw the man and his face hardened. The man raised his goblet to Buchanan and drank from it then looked elsewhere.

"The Baron," he said with disgust, turning them both away. "He's aware of you."

"The servant who helped me with my dress said both he and his man servant have been pressing her to bed with them," she said into his ear.

"I'm not surprised," he said. "I told you he doesn't respect boundaries."

"Lord Buchanan," said a voice near them. "I understand congratulations are soon to be given you on your engagement to this enchanting creature."

They both turned and saw the Baron standing near them.

"Baron Zemo, this is the Lady Ileana," said Lord Buchanan, observing polite convention.

"A modern woman, I hear," said the Baron. "Are you sure you won't miss the conveniences of your time to live in the past?"

"I'm very adaptable," said Ileana, gripping Buchanan's arm.

"How long are you staying at the castle, James?" asked the Baron innocently.

Buchanan glared at him. "We are not on a first name basis, Baron," said Buchanan. "I am here for several days then will take my leave and continue the tour of my lands."

"No doubt stopping in to see the Knight Commander and his pets," said the Baron with barely disguised contempt. "Well, my apologies for overstepping the boundaries of our acquaintance. Enjoy the feast My Lady. Buchanan."

He bowed and walked away. "He makes me feel dirty," said Ileana with a shudder.

Buchanan curled his lip. "Pay him no mind," he said, pulling her closer. "As long as you are with me he won't dare touch you."

They continued walking around looking at the various circus performers and musicians. The call came to take their seats and they sat to the right of the King and Queen. After the Bishop said a prayer the food was served. Ileana had never seen such a spread and couldn't begin to remember the names of many of the dishes. She reached a point where she couldn't eat anymore and begged off the remaining dishes. She leaned towards the Queen and asked what the medieval equivalent of an antacid was. Although the Queen laughed she had no answer. Eventually Ileana felt better and could enjoy the entertainment. After an hour the tables were pushed back and the floor cleared for dancing. The Queen leaned to her.

"As the companion of Lord Buchanan you will be expected to dance," she said. "It's pretty simple, really. Slow and graceful. Watch me for the steps."

The King put his hand out to the Queen while Lord Buchanan gave her his hand. Two other couples stood up and they gathered together in two lines of four facing each other, men on one side and women on the other. As the Queen gave her instructions in a low voice she followed her lead and did what she did. It was as the Queen said, slow and graceful. At the end the women curtsied to their man, who then bowed to them. Buchanan took her hand and leaned close.

"You picked that up well," he said. "You are adaptable."

They sat and wine was poured. Ileana sipped hers while Buchanan drank his down and asked for more. His face was a little flushed and she suspected he was a little drunk. He leaned in close and put his hand on her knee as he put his mouth next to her ear.

"I wish for this feast to be over," he said. "I want to touch you tonight."

He kissed her neck, sending goosebumps down her neck and arm, then pulled away and drank more wine. His drinking increased until he reached a point where he was definitely drunk. The King signalled a man servant and suggested to Ileana that the couple retire. The man servant helped Buchanan up, supporting him to their room where the two servants waited to help them disrobe. Ileana wasn't too happy about it which Alice noticed.

"It is his prerogative to drink to the point of drunkenness," she said, sounding defensive to Ileana’s ears. "All powerful men have the right to do what they want, really. He is a good man but he is a powerful one as well."

She left the small room and came back to say Lord Buchanan awaited his Lady, then she left. Dressed only in her chemise and with her hair undone, Ileana opened the door to the bedroom. It was lit only by the fire in the fireplace and its golden light flickered onto the bed where Buchanan lay waiting, already in his nightshirt and propped up on one elbow to watch as she approached.

"Before you get on the bed please know the drunkenness was a sham," he said, clearly no longer under the influence. "I am unable to get drunk but only the King and a few trusted friends know. It has served us well as I am able to infiltrate and spy easily on those who would betray us. For tonight I wished only to hasten our time alone together. Come my love, join me."

Ileana climbed onto the huge bed, facing him as she sat on the bedding. He traced the outline of her face with his fingers, then touched her collarbone.

"Are you nervous, my love?" he asked in a low sultry voice. "You shouldn't be. I will be gentle with you. You've been with a man before so you know what is going to happen between us. I have wanted this from the moment I saw your face."

"I shouldn't be nervous M'lord," she replied. "But I hope I please you."

"Say my given name," he said softly. "Please, say my name."

"James," she whispered, and he kissed her, holding her in his arms.

His hands went under her chemise touching her legs, then up the curve of her bottom to her back as his kisses became more forceful. Just like he had imagined her skin was soft and smelled of wildflowers. Pulling away, his breathing was heavy and he looked deeply at her face and eyes. She pulled her chemise off over her head while he did the same with his nightshirt. Then she took his face in her hands and began kissing him. Her hands moved to his shoulders and down his back pulling him closer to her. He eased her onto her back and looked at her again in a way that she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Gently he took her hand, placing it on his cock, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

"Touch me," he said. "I will touch you at the same time."

Reaching between her legs he eased his hand up into her, searching out her entry with his fingers. Using the heel of his hand to massage where her sensitive spot was he inserted one then two fingers inside, curling them to rub her inside spot, instantly bringing a response from her as she gasped. At the same time she stroked him, running her hand up and down his cock. They both experienced a rush of arousal until he pulled his hand out of her and switched to laying on top of her. She was wet with anticipation as he guided himself into her. At first he was almost too large and hard for her but he gently came out then in again and this time her body accepted him fully.

"James," she whispered. "My god..."

"Ileana," he whispered back. "My goddess..."

Moving together as if they were always meant to be with each other, his mouth found every spot it could reach, from her neck to her breasts and then back to her mouth, probing and tasting. Ileana had been with several men in her life but none brought her to the edge of bliss like James did. She thought she had experienced an orgasm before but when she came with James she knew this was her first real one and she cried out in pleasure as her whole body went taut with the ecstasy of release. He followed soon after and called out her name then buried his head into her neck. For several minutes he didn't move except for his hot breath on her neck. Then he lifted himself from her and switched to lay on his side. She rolled to face him and was surprised to see his eyes were wet.

"James, what's wrong?" she whispered.

"Nothing," he said. "It's been so long and I'm overwhelmed with the emotion my coming has released in me. After Elena... I didn't know if I could love again. But I do love you, Ileana. More than I thought I did. It is early in our acquaintance, I know, but I feel like I understand you well."

He gathered her into his arms, cradling her next to his chest. She could hear his heart beating loudly and feel the heat his body had generated during sex. Above all else she felt loved and protected by James, her Lord, surprising herself with the thought. The second time they made love he entered her from behind. It was a rougher encounter and he pushed into her deeply. Uncomfortable at first due to his enthusiasm, when it ended it was exhilarating for her, and mutually enjoyable. In her mind what they did that evening was the best love making she had ever experienced, making her wish she could stay with him forever. In the morning, before the servants arrived he touched her face and asked if she was pleased.

"James," she said softly as she leaned into his touch, "never has any man pleased me so much. Did I please you?"

"Yes, my love," he replied just as softly. "If we were married I would never want a mistress."

His eyes darkened for a moment. "James, what is wrong?" asked Ileana.

"When you awaken in your world you will be gone from mine," he said sadly. "Perhaps it was a mistake to have this night of passion when I know you cannot stay."

"A light that burns twice as bright burns half as long *," whispered Ileana. "Perhaps that is us, our love will burn twice as bright."

[* A line from the movie Blade Runner, if you're wondering. It has also been attributed to Lao Tzu.]

"My dearest love," he exclaimed, kissing her deeply. "If that is true then we will burn out like a meteor streaking across the sky. I will love you enough for a thousand lifetimes."

They made love again, loudly and with abandon while she rode him from above. He took her hand, directing her to touch herself as he watched. As she came so did he in a loud outcry. When Alice and Gerard, the male servant, came to dress them they had to leave and wait outside the door, fearful of interrupting the couple in the midst of their tryst. When they heard no sound for a period of time the pair knocked on the door and entered. Lord Buchanan nodded at them from the bed where he and Ileana were holding each other.

"Prepare us a bath in Lady Ileana's dressing room," he ordered. "We are going riding today with the King and Queen so we will need our riding clothes. Alice, I wish you to accompany us to attend to my lady. You can ride?"

"Yes M'lord," she curtsied and hurried to the dressing room to begin preparing the bath. Gerard went down to the kitchen to begin loading the buckets of hot water that he would draw up a secret passageway up to the dressing room.

"I'm going to try and protect Alice as much as possible from the Baron while we are here," he said. "It disgusts me that he and his man servant would try to interfere with her. She will stay close to us as much possible."

They continued to hold each other and talk quietly while the two servants prepared the bath, until Gerard came out announcing the bath was ready. He came close to the bed and picked up James nightshirt, helping his lord put it on before he left. Alice came out then and did the same with Ileana's chemise, leaving the couple alone once more.

"We could have just put them on ourselves," said Ileana with amusement in her voice as they got out of bed and walked to the dressing room.

"I know," James replied. "But the more they can do the more they justify their position. If the King ever ran into financial trouble it would be people like them who would lose their livelihoods first."

"How does the King make a living?" asked Ileana, curious.

"Taxes from lords like me, rent from the tenants on his land, selling grain and other foodstuffs from his lands," he replied. "Any of which could be disrupted by a war, or bandits, or those who conspire against him."

They pulled off their nightshirts and entered the wooden tub, barely big enough for the two of them. Buchanan spread his legs and invited her to sit between them then lean back on his chest. Using the sponge he spread water over her shoulders and chest. Caressing her breasts he started kissing her neck.

"Are you wanting me?" Ileana asked. "I thought we were cleaning up after the night we had."

"We are," he smiled. "But I have a beautiful naked woman on my body right now. I would be a fool if I didn't take advantage of it."

Ileana rolled over and faced him, kneeling between his legs. She could see he was already aroused. Taking the sponge she filled it with water and ran it over his shoulders and chest, leaning close enough to him to kiss him. Pulling her close to him he continued to kiss her and pulled her up enough to mount his now hard cock.

"Show me how you ride again," he smirked.

Smiling she began moving on him slowly, drawing it out sensuously. As she pleasured him he laid his head back, biting his lip. He fondled her breasts, then ran his hands back to her bottom gripping it and forcing it harder on him and her.

"Go faster and harder," he said. "I'm getting close."

She did as he asked and pushed her pelvis down into his, increasing her pleasure. Shifting so that more of him was in her, he got a devilish grin on his face and took her fingers, sucking them one at a time, before offered his fingers for her to do the same. Grabbing her hips again he began thrusting up into her making her gasp at how deep he was. Water was splashing out of the tub with the force of their actions and he twisted her body on his cock trying to force that last little bit that would send her over her edge. Grabbing her face he kissed her deeply, forcing his tongue deep into her mouth. Finally she came and she opened her mouth to cry out. He felt her tighten just as he felt himself bulge with his climax as he yelled with her. While they both came down from their apex he pulled her close to him, kissing her head, face, and mouth.

"My Ileana," he whispered. "Oh my lady, I love you."

They kissed again passionately and laid in the water until it became cold. Feeling her start to shiver he told her to stand up. He dried her then wrapped a drying cloth around her. He wrapped one around his waist and pulled another one from a hook to dry his chest and arms.

"Tell Alice I'm sorry for the mess," he said and left the dressing room for his.

Alice entered moments later, her face red and her eyes swollen. Ileana noticed right away.

"What's happened?" she asked. "Alice, tell me."

"Nothing, M'Lady," she sniffed. "Stubbed my toe."

"Alice, I know what stubbing my toe looks like and this isn't it," she said emphatically. "Now, what happened?"

"The Baron's manservant cornered me as I passed by the Baron's room on my way here," she said. "He dragged me in and they both...."

She broke down crying and Ileana experienced a surge of rage. Walking to the door of her dressing room she looked out and saw Buchanan being dressed.

"M'lord, may I see you for a moment?" she said. "It's urgent."

He came in and saw Alice weeping and immediately anger sprang to his face as he deduced what had happened. Kneeling down to Alice he looked at her gently.

"Tell me, Alice," he said. "Tell me everything and I will deal with it.”

She told him how the servant had cornered her, dragging her into the Baron's room. He was partially dressed and thanked his servant for bringing him a tasty morsel to eat. While the servant held her the Baron had reached under her dress and touched her privates with his tongue and fingers. She had screamed and struggled at their actions while they laughed before letting her go.

"Why would he do that to me?" she asked. "I'm a virgin and I don't know these things but I know it was wicked."

"You were violated and it was wrong," said James, barely keeping control. "Ileana, please counsel Alice here while I take care of the Baron once and for all."

Buchanan left, his face full of grim determination. It was only later that Ileana learned what happened after he left their room. After quickly dressing he went to the King, telling him how the Baron had abused the King's hospitality and insulted the Queen by his assault on a servant. He then announced his intentions. With the King's backing he went to the Baron's room and threw his glove at him, challenging him to a duel. The Baron tried to talk his way out of it but in the process insulted Lord Buchanan, and a second glove was thrown at the villain. There was no backing down and the Baron had to accept the challenge. As the challenged man, the Baron set the terms, choosing a duel to the death, set for dawn the following morning. In the meantime the Baron and his manservant were evicted from the palace.

A messenger hawk was sent to the Knight Commander to act as second for Lord Buchanan. Arriving shortly before noon, he spent the day with Buchanan and the King. Ileana learned part of the day was spent practicing sword work as the Baron was known as a master swordsman. There was no feast but the King did host a dinner for a small group which Ileana was expected to attend. Not expecting to see Alice again, she was surprised when the young woman appeared to assist her.

"Alice," she said. "You didn't have to come."

"I did M'Lady," she said. "You and Lord Buchanan have been so good to me. You both believed me right away."

Ileana wore the green gown for the dinner and entered the King's private dining hall to see Buchanan at the side of the room with the King and a handsome dark skinned man, who Ileana assumed was the Knight Commander, Sir Samuel. Buchanan came to her immediately, taking her hand and kissing it.

"Lady Ileana, please come and meet a good friend," he said, drawing her to Sir Samuel.

The Knight Commander turned to her, his eyes lighting up in appreciation. He looked exactly like Sam Wilson in her world, except dressed for this one. For a moment she felt a pang of sadness for what she left behind then pushed it down. This was a different man, with a different history and future than the Sam she knew.

"My Lady," he bowed deeply. "Buck has told me of your beauty but he was too reserved in his descriptions. You are second only to our Queen in fairness."

"Thank you, Sir Samuel," she replied. "You are too kind."

The friends ate dinner where both the King and Queen attempted to keep things light but everyone knew that the following day could produce the death of Lord Buchanan.

"Sam has agreed to be my second," said Buchanan to Ileana. "Tonight I must be in seclusion and pray for my soul. I'm sorry my love, but you must sleep alone tonight.”

The King asked Lord Buchanan to speak privately with him and both men left the table. Sir Samuel leaned to Ileana and spoke quietly.

"This duel has been a long time coming," he said. "Has Buck ever told you the real reason he despises the Baron?"

"No, would you tell me?" she replied.

"Many years ago before we went to war with the Mad Titan to reclaim the King's realm Buck was prepared to live life as a farmer as his father had done," he said. "His father had done very well and the family was highly regarded. Buck was in love with the daughter of another farming family who had done well and a marriage was arranged but the banns not read. Then the war started and he felt honour bound to become a soldier for our King. That is where I met him where we became fast friends. The war lasted six years and another man came between Buck and his love."

"The Baron?" asked Ileana.

"Yes, he wasn't the Baron then," said Sam. "Zemo was handsome, charming and he wanted Hannah as his wife. He offered a large dowry to her father to cancel the previous arrangement, and it was accepted. When Buck came home his love was married off to Zemo. The villain wasn't a good husband to her, keeping several mistresses. Buck offered his fortune to Zemo to divorce her but he refused out of spite. She took her own life in despair and Buck left for the Holy Land to be a monk. While he was gone, Zemo's father died under mysterious circumstances and Zemo became the Baron. He began harassing Buck's father, claiming he had missed his taxes and other such nonsense. Before he could evict the old man the King sent for Buck, naming him a Baron as well, awarding him his own estate lands. He refused to be known as Baron due to his dislike of Baron Zemo and has gone by Lord Buchanan ever since, which was his middle name after his mother's family. She passed away in his youth. The hate between the two men is deep."

“Is it true the Baron is a master swordsman?” she asked.

“The Baron is a very capable swordsman and he could kill Buck during the duel,” admitted Sir Samuel. “He is also devious and not a man to be trusted.”

For the first time Ileana felt fear for James. She wanted to have faith in him but the Baron was a good swordsman and was willing to do whatever it took to kill Buchanan.

"You don't look well, Lady Ileana," said Sam. "Let me get Buck to tend to you."

Buchanan came back with Sam, suggesting that she retire early. Offering her his arm, she had barely taken a few steps when she felt sick to her stomach. Easily lifting her into his arms, Buchanan took her to their room, laying her on the bed. Alice came to assist in Ileana’s disrobing to prepare her for sleep, leading her to the dressing room. When the two women returned, Buchanan still sat on the edge of the bed, fully clothed.

"Alice, I must spend the night in seclusion and prayer to prepare for the duel," he said. "Can you sleep with Lady Ileana tonight so she isn't alone?"

"Yes, M'lord," she said, bowing her head.

Tucking the covers in around Ileana himself, he kissed her on the forehead, touched her cheek, stood up and left. Ileana broke down in tears, curling in on herself. Later when Alice had finished her other household duties she came, undressed down to her chemise and climbed into bed with Ileana, promising she wouldn't leave her alone during the night. The two women talked quietly for some time then eventually fell asleep.

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