#john wick hurt/comfort

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Vincent tending to Chidi’s wounds when a medical professional isn’t near (with Vincent surprisingly having good knowledge on wounds) has always been on my mind and I thought to share with you ^_^

Anyways here’s a crappy screenshot of them because aaaaaaaaaaaaaa Chidi looks so small😭

Thank you so much for this ask! This ended up being almost chapter-length and I may use snippets of it in Those Who Have Something to Live For later on, oops!!

Also, small hearts for small chidi: 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

-⚜- I Want to Be Next to You -⚜-

TW: gunshot wound, discussion of self-sacrifice

The first thing Chidi noticed was the red pouring out of Vincent’s shoulder. The second thing he noticed was how fast he was breathing.

He didn’t say anything, just staggered back against the wall with alarmingly wide eyes almost rolling back in his head - that look of unspeakable terror that Chidi had seen only a few times in his service with Vincent.

Chidi was across the balcony and in contact with Vincent almost instantly, gripping both arms to slow his fall and guide him to the ground. Their legs folded under them in unison, almost gracefully, like two swans landing on water. And they both felt they were drifting on something like water, suddenly floating above a terrible, murky depth. Their eyes were locked together, mirroring each other’s desperation. “C'est bon [It’s okay],” he whispered, low enough to reach only Vincent.

He didn’t respond at first. Then, as if without breathing, “Non, ce n'est pas le cas, ils putain… ils… [No it’s not, they fucking…they…]”

Chidi couldn’t contradict him. They had been ambushed. A particularly crucial client had insisted on meeting Vincent on “neutral ground,” without much backup, in a remote villa. As he had feared, it was merely a ruse to make an attempt on Vincent’s life. And Chidi hadn’t stopped it…they’d laid hands on Vincent, they’d put metal in him…

“Get a medic, and arrange evacuation,” he barked over his shoulder, without breaking eye contact with Vincent. Chidi was scary like this.

The ground around them was littered with bodies. Only two other guards survived – and the enemy was demolished. One of those guards hesitated. “What should I tell them about the deal, sir? And the ambush?”

“I don’t care! I’m going to stay with my ward! GO!” My ward. Vincent was the ward of all the bodyguards, but Chidi didn’t say our. No, at moments like this, it became clearer than ever that Vincent was his responsibility in a way that none of the other Myrmadons shared.

In another moment, they were alone.

“Chidi…” It wasn’t the beginning of a question, it was an inarticulate plea. Vincent’s head was lolling from one side to the other against the wall, in danger of knocking against it from how badly he was shaking.

“Je suis là. [I’m here.]” He lowered him the rest of the way down, not against the hard marble, but into his lap, elevating the wounded shoulder above the rest of his body. Overwhelmed by the mixture of shock and human contact, he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes for half a second before staring desperately up at Chidi again. It was a magnetic look, impossible to break away from. Help me, it was saying. Chidi obeyed.

“Je vais vous attacher un garrot maintenant, monsieur. Cela signifie que je vais attacher un morceau de tissu autour de votre épaule. Cela pourrait faire mal mais je vais essayer d’être rapide. [I’m going to tie you a tourniquet now, sir. This means I’m going to tie a piece of cloth around your shoulder. It might hurt but I’ll try to be quick.]” For once, he was the one chattering away, trying to fill the silence, to keep Vincent’s mind from running away with him. He kept his breathing as steady as he could, and his face expressionless. He had to be the rock right now, something to hold onto.

He took off his suitcoat and then ripped off his shirt sleeve from underneath, tying it around Vincent’s shoulder. As it squeezed the muscles around the wound, Vincent went even paler, panting in an effort not to scream. Even at a time like this, he didn’t want to look weak. It made Chidi’s heart twist. “Vous allez bien, monsieur. [You’re doing well, sir.]” He wasn’t. He was starting to hyperventilate, and it really concerned Chidi. “Peux-tu respirer avec moi, lentement ? De la même manière que je respire. [Can you breathe with me, slowly? The same way I’m breathing.]”

The Marquis struggled for a moment, staring at Chidi’s chest. He saw another wave of fear rise up behind Vincent’s eyes as he lost control. “Je – je ne peux pas – [I – I can’t – ]”

“Ce n'est pas grave alors. Continuez simplement d’essayer et concentrez-vous sur ma voix. Je vais faire pression sur toi pour arrêter le saignement maintenant, d'accord ? Et je continuerai à faire ça jusqu’à ce que l’aide arrive. [That’s okay then. Just keep trying and focus on my voice. I’m going to press on you to stop the bleeding now, okay? And I’ll keep doing that until help comes.]” Chidi did his best not to talk too fast, not to let the panic affect his voice. He felt like breaking down – seeing Vincent like this was too much. But he had to be reassuring for him.

“…d’accord… ça prend combien de temps? […okay…how long with that take?]”

“Je ne sais pas, monsieur. Pas longtemps. [I don’t know, sir. Not long.]” He lowered his hands over the wound and pressed down as hard as he could. Vincent made an awful, strangled sound. Even through the pressure, Chidi could feel how badly he was shivering. “Attendez, faisons ça aussi. [Wait, let’s do this too.]” He took his hands off the wound long enough to throw his coat over Vincent’s chest, and then pressed down again. Vincent snuggled involuntarily into the warmth, the shivering subsiding a little. After the initial pain of Chidi’s strength against his shoulder again, he relaxed into it. Then, following a long moment of hesitance, his hand rested on top of Chidi’s.

“Merci.” He stroked along Chidi’s hand just the way he would if they were just resting in bed together after making love.

“Bien sûr. [Of course.]”

His eyes were closed again and suddenly Chidi worried he might lose consciousness.

“Hé, pouvez-vous continuer à me regarder monsieur ? Reste éveillé s'il te plait. [Hey, can you keep looking at me sir? Stay awake please.]”

Vincent wrenched his eyelids open with what seemed a very great effort. “Parlez-moi alors. [Talk to me then.]” It was an order, but spoken so quietly, so vulnerably.

“D’accord.” Chidi thought for a moment. “Tu sais, j'ai appris la médecine de campagne pour toi. J'ai pris des cours le soir, pendant mon temps libre. Parce que si jamais tu étais bloqué comme ça, je voulais être sûr de pouvoir t'aider. [You know, I learned field medicine for you. I took lessons in the evenings, during my leisure time. Because if you were ever stranded like this, I wanted to make sure I could help you.]”

Vincent swallowed. “Je ne le savais pas. Je…te remercie. [I didn’t know that. I…thank you.]” His hand was stroking idly against Chidi’s, with deep affection, soothing both himself and his lover at once. He was getting into that zoned out space that he entered sometimes, when he was hurt or very sick. A space that forced his deeply defended heart to open a little.

“Ce n'était pas un problème, monsieur. Je suis content de l’avoir fait. [It was no trouble, sir. I’m glad I did.]”

“Je suis… je suis content que tu sois là. Peut-être… peut-être que je dramatise mais… [I’m…I’m glad you’re here. Maybe…maybe I’m being dramatic but…]” He went silent for a long time, so long that Chidi almost thought he was passing out. But he wasn’t. “Si je meurs, je veux qu'il soit à côté de toi. [If I die, I want it be next to you.]”

Chidi’s throat tightened. He looked away at the sunset, waves of pink and gold crashing down over jagged mountains. But it wasn’t half as beautiful as Vincent, so he looked back. “Si je meurs, je veux que ce soit pour vous, monsieur. Mais je préfère que nous vivions tous les deux. [If I die, I want it to be for you, sir. But I’d rather we both live.]”

Vincent didn’t answer for a long time, and when he did, it was in a rush, with his voice dropping quieter and quieter until Chidi could barely hear him.  “Je préfère ça aussi, ces jours-ci. Il y a quelques instants, quand on m'a tiré dessus, j'ai réalisé que… Pour une fois, je n'avais pas peur parce que j'étais seule, mais parce que je voulais continuer à vivre. Je veux être à côté de toi. [I’d rather that too, these days. A few moments ago, when I was shot, I realized that…For once, I wasn’t scared because I was alone, but because I want to keep living. I want to be next to you.]”

You will. You always will. “Je serai toujours à vos côtés, monsieur. [I will always be by your side, sir.]” Chidi wrapped himself around Vincent’s body, giving him all of his warmth, all of his presence, all of himself. For life.

[johnwickcaretaker]

💙🖤John x Santino Masterlist🖤💙

⋆.˚ ●.⭒˚ OOC Post ⋆.˚ ● .⭒˚

Miscellaneous drabble, headcanons, prompt lists, etc. related to John Wick x Santino D'Antonio (A.K.A. WickedSaint), with a focus on whump, angst, and hurt/comfort. Special thanks to @bluelolblue for many of these asks!

AO3 Series for Ficlets: Even in Your Worst Moods

●・○・●・○・●

SHIP OVERVIEW/ANALYSIS

A/B/O

A Slap From a Saint - Ficlet

Bury a Friend - Drawing

Cooking and Favorite Foods

Hurt/Comfort Headcanons

"Hold My Hand" - Ficlet

Hurt/Comfort Prompts

John is Kidnapped

John is Severely Hurt

Playlist

Salt in the Wound - Ficlet

Santino Eating Ice Cream - Drawing

Santino has a Flashback - Ficlet

Santino has a Nightmare - Ficlet

Santino has a Panic Attack

Santino has a Panic Attack Alone - Ficlet

Santino has a Rage Meltdown

Santino hides an Injury - Ficlet

Santino is Exhausted

Santino is Overworked and Smoking

Santino is Pregnant

Santino is Severely Hurt

Santino is Sick

Santino Passes Out - Ficlet

Santino Wears a Green Suit - Drabble

Sharing a Dessert - Ficlet

The Boy in the Picture Frame - Ficlet

Too Much Coffee - Ficlet

Torn Stitches - Ficlet

Vampire AU

Visiting a Museum

Walking Home - Ficlet

Wedding

Wedding Playlist

Werewolf AU

Wildflowers - Ficlet

You'll Thank Me Tomorrow - Ficlet

●・○・●・○・●

[ibahibut]

If you get hurt, I’ll try to make it better

John touch-starved for someone after Helen gone. Koji will make sure John let it out his pain & be there for him.

(+18) other 2 nsfw pages on my AO3 & Pixiv or below

[thebookbutterfly]

°•. John Wick .•°

Fan fiction recommendations from BB’s Bookshelf. All my favourite John Wick works in one place.

⭐️ = One of my favourites.

ONESHOTS:

🦋 Friday Night [Fluff, Hurt/Comfort] It’s been a very long week. Fortunately John is there to make it all better. Domestic fluff. << Gender Neutral Reader, Mentions of bruising >>

🦋 Sick Day [Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Light Angst] Your favourite boogeyman gets taken down by the common flu, so you look after him the way you always do. << Gender Neutral Reader, Descriptions of Illness >>

🦋 Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat [Slight Angst, Fluff] John confronts you after you disobeyed an order and put your life at risk for him. The conversation takes a turn when confessions arise. << Gender Neutral Reader, Canon Typical Injury, Mentions of Canon Typical Violence >> ⭐️

🦋 Together [Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort] Left with no choice but to defend your little family, you are forced to shoot someone for the first time. John comforts you. << Gender Neutral Reader, Canon Typical Violence >> ⭐️

🦋 Saved [Hurt/Comfort, Fluff] You have managed to cross the wrong person and land up with a bounty on your head. John is more than willing to come to the rescue of an old friend and feelings that were once forgotten resurface. << Female Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Injury >>

🦋 Baba Yaga’s Cure for Period Cramps [Fluff, Hurt/Comfort] Period cramps are the worst but comfort from John is the best. << AFAB Reader >>

🦋 Ghosts [Angst, Fluff] A phone call from a stranger with news about a man from a life you had left behind a long time ago, brings back many memories, making you travel from France to New York City for one last time. Only for a promise made twenty years ago to wait for you once you are back home. << Female Reader, SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 4 >> ⭐️

🦋 Blackout [Fluff] All the Christmas decorations are up but the power is off. You and John find ways to pass the time. << Female Reader >>

SERIES:

🦋 Coming Soon!

DRABBLES:

🦋 Kisses in the Dark [Fluff] John comes home late after a job and tries not to wake you. Thanks to Dog his attempt proves unsuccessful. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 Safe and Sound [Hurt/Comfort, Fluff] John comes home from a job sore and bruised. You take care of him and give him a much needed back rub. << Gender Neutral Reader, Canon Typical Injuries >>

🦋 Vet Bills [Fluff] Dog has been been behaving oddly. When John takes him to the vet he gets more than just a diagnosis of Dog’s pollen allergy, he gets a crush too. << Female Reader >>

[bluelolblue]

Blooming Bruises

Summary: Santino's father gets drunk and hurts Santino as he's preparing to go on a secret date with John. The following day, John tries to make it better.

Rating: Mature, hurt/comfort

Relationship: Santino D'Antonio/John Wick

Note: August 31st (31.8.) 2023 was the day I posted my first fic, "I Heart you." It's a lot, it was my irl besties idea and honestly I still like it. Just... yeah, I've improved a lot since that AHAH. It's been a year, and I literally can't believe. My first fic was posted A YEAR ago, that's like... wow I can't believe it lmaoo.

This fic is a gift to @thewhumpcaretaker because you've helped me out so much, you wrote all my silly prompts, and that always brings me joy, AND MADE FANARTS I'm so thankful for that! I really love your fics and art and everything. You also inspire me, and I want you to know I appreciate everything you've done for me! This beautiful piece of artwork inspired me for this fic. Everyone should check out Santino with ice cream RIGHT HERE! Beautiful! The song "Me Gustas Tu" by Manu Chao was one part of the inspiration, too :). Thank you for being an amazing friend and support, I hope you'll like it! 💖

☆ SPECIAL THANKS TO @mrssimply ☆ for beta reading, helping out with everything, giving me suggestions that I ate up and making Santino suffer even more EHEH <3

Enjoy hurt/comfort with the sillies ^ ^ 💙🖤

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Snippet

Summer was really hot this year in Italy, and it was the perfect time to go there. An opportunity to visit the young Camorra prince again.

Four months ago, John met Santino D'Antonio, second in line of the Camorra family and he hadn’t expected to actually fall in love with him. Not with someone higher rank than him, someone so beautiful and younger than him.

However, Santino had to keep their relationship a secret from his family, since his father was really strict and the thought of his son dating another man was never an option. So, Santino would lie, say that he was going out with friends and somehow that always worked. He was actually seeing his lover who would always take him somewhere beautiful on a date.

Another problem was, John was living in New York and he was coming to Italy for business reasons which was how he met Santino, but he promised he would visit him more often. And he did, like now where he’d taken some free days off work.

Santino was just getting ready, everything seemed like it was going as planned until his father decided to get drunk.

“Where are you going?”

Santino sighed and turned around to see his father.

“I'm going out with friends,” he replied, catching a hint of alcohol from his father.

“Really? Friends?”

Santino paused for a second, his father usually didn't care, why was he so suspicious now?

“Yes. You met them.”

Read the rest on ao3

[mrssimply]

Under the Cinders

The smoke consumed itself between Santino’s fingers as he observed John with heavily lidded eyes.

“Yeah, you hurt me. But it’s not like I know anything else anyway,” he confessed, just above a whisper.

John looked away, ashamed, but the sea outside was invisible in the night, and would’ve brought no comfort anyway.

“I don’t want to be part of the people that hurt you.”

“That’s impossible, John,” Santino replied gently, “loving you is a constant ache, and you know I like the pain.”

---

Snippet from the upcoming last part to my fic The Burning of Rome. Comming soon...ish.

[liennka]

Hello loves!

Hi guys, i love writing and im thinking of putting some of my work here :)

Something about me:

I am a slavic teenage girl

I like fantasy and adventure genres

My fav artists are Lana Del Rey and TV girl

I get obssesed with a show/movie for like 4 months at a time (I need social life fr)

Current obssesions: IWTV, Hannibal, Hunger Games, Harry Potter, John Wick, Twilight ;), Hobbit and LOTR...

And lastly I am so sorry but I only post when I have some super detailed idea so I come back from dead once a year

[andarthas-web]

Baba Jaga’s Bitch - chapter 8

A few thoughts on solitary confinement and where that will get you.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42060516/chapters/105602991

[rafesaddiction]

It's not cheating when he's your best friend – Rafe Cameron x Reader

See here for part 2

Summary: You and your best friend Rafe want to watch some movies together, but your jealous boyfriend keeps calling you and makes you cry. Rafe takes care of you.

Concept: best friends, one bed

Warnings: mdni! – smut, fingering, sex, p in v, cheating (reader cheats on boyfriend), jealousy, hints at toxic relationship, name calling (reader is called slut), protective!rafe, but also kinda mean!rafe

Word count: 3.9k

“Now what has the dick done this time?”

“His name is Nick and you know that,” you punched your best friend against his chest, causing him to mouth an “ouch!” and rub the spot you had hit, pretending to be hurt, though you knew even if you'd tried, you could not actually hurt him. He was so much stronger than you. And hitting him with your fist, you just felt his hard muscles and actually hurt your own hand a little.

“Whatever. He's a dick for sure,” Rafe shrugged, reached over you to grab the popcorn. His arm brushed your chest, just hardly touching your shirt, and weirdly it made you shiver.

You frowned at Rafe who had already turned his face towards the TV screen again. You were sitting next to him on the floor in front of his bed. Sure it wasn't as comfortable as if you had been sitting on the bed, but it was kind of your thing. Yours and Rafe's. When you were kids you used to do that all the time, sit as close to the TV screen as possible, because “it was like going to the movies”, the screen seemed so much bigger. Now the screen was actually huge, it still felt bigger sitting on the floor and looking up. You kind of felt like kids again, even though you were both adults now. It was a feeling of nostalgia, something you hadn't known you had missed that much.

It had been a while since you had done this, just a movie night with your best friend since childhood. Though your college wasn't that far away from the island, you had hardly seen Rafe in the last couple of months. And you'd missed this, hanging out with your best friend. Watching a movie marathon – Rafe had picked tonight's movies: all four John Wick films. And even though you had rolled your eyes when Rafe told you, you had to admit the movies were actually fun to watch. And you enjoyed yourself, eating popcorn, sitting next to each other, chatting or just watching in silence when a scene got extremely exciting.

You enjoyed yourself more than you had in a while. And you were so glad that you had agreed to spending time with Rafe before you would have to drive back to college the next day.

Well, you had enjoyed yourself, until your phone just wouldn't keep quiet. You had it on silent, but you could see the screen blinking. And you couldn't ignore it, because it might be important.

It was your boyfriend who had been texting you. And you hated to leave him on read, so you replied. But he didn't stop. You told him – again – you would call him later, you were watching movies with your best friend. His answer wasn't what you had hoped for.

You were just typing back when Rafe asked you what your boyfriend had done.

You really didn't want to talk about it, you wanted to relax, not think about your boyfriend or college or the next day when you would have to return, not think about how much you had missed just being yourself in the company of your best friend.

But your phone kept ringing. Your boyfriend was now calling you. You sighed.

You saw Rafe glancing at you sideways.

You should just put your phone away, and ignore it. But you were already too upset to enjoy the movie.

So you got up.

“I gotta take this,” you told Rafe, pointing at your phone, and you didn't even wait for his reply, but went to the adjoining bathroom and closed the door behind you.

You took a deep breath before answering the phone.

“Hi babe, I—” But your boyfriend didn't let you finish. He started talking right away, though it wasn't actually talking, he was yelling at you. He was furious that you had ignored him. You tried to explain, but he wouldn't listen.

“Why haven't you told me who you are meeting?”

“I didn't think it was such a big deal. Rafe's my best friend, you know that. I've known him since forever…”

Your boyfriend went to high school with you, so he knew who Rafe Cameron was. And he had never gotten along with him. Which was okay, because you only started dating at college. And that was when you found out that he hated your best friend. But since you hardly ever saw Rafe, he was never really a topic in your relationship. Until now.

“Don't think I'm stupid, y/n. He's not just a friend. He's Rafe Cameron.”

“But he is my friend!” You had tried to keep quiet, but your emotions were in turmoil. You didn't know how it had happened, but you were almost feeling angry.

“A friend who wants to fuck you. But that's what you want, huh? You just wanna be one of his dumb sluts? He's using you!”

Tears filled your eyes and you couldn't hold them back at his harsh words.

“That's not true,” your voice sounded weak and you sobbed.

He wouldn't listen. He just accused you of these ridiculous things, calling you names, and then he just hung up. You tried to call him back, but the call went straight to voice mail.

Your mind was racing, your heart was beating so fast, you felt it would explode in your chest. Tears were running down your cheeks, but you didn't even care to wipe them from your face when you left the bathroom to return to Rafe's bedroom.

He was still sitting on the floor in front of the bed. The movie was paused, you noticed from the silence in the room, and it kind of touched you that he had been so considerate to pause the movie, so you wouldn't miss a scene.

He looked up at you, but you tried to avoid his gaze as you walked closer.

“I need to go,” you said, hardly audibly.

“What?” Rafe frowned at you. “Dicky calls and you come running?”

For a moment, you wondered if he was hurt. After all, you had promised to spend time with him, watch a John Wick marathon. And you hadn't seen him for so long.

“I can't do this now,” you sniffled and shook your head. You couldn't deal with your best friend's hurt feelings too now, even though you felt bad. But you needed to leave now, you needed to make things right with your boyfriend.

You reached down to pick up your bag that was lying on the floor next to Rafe, when he suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you down. You let out a surprised gasp as you fell right onto his lap, where he caught you, where he held you.

You struggled and tried to get up.

“Let me go, asshole,” you punched his shoulder, but Rafe only held you closer in both his arms.

“What now? I'm the asshole, but he makes you cry?”

Rafe grabbed your jaw, making you look at him when you tried to turn your face away.

“Let me go,” you said, blinking tears away.

“Only when you tell me what's going on. What has he done to you?”

You tried to shake your head, struggling to get up, but he was stronger, so much stronger, and the way he held you, held you like he would never let go off you, you became overwhelmed by your emotions, no longer able to get your act together, instead of pushing away, you now clung to your best friend. You buried your face at the crook of his neck, and he held you. Tears were soaking his shirt and he caressed your hair. You were shaking and trembling and sobbing, and Rafe pulled you closer.

This side of him wasn't new to you, but no one else knew him like this, caring, protecting. And you had only seen him like this on few occasions. And it was like your body reacted to his. Though your feelings were still in turmoil, your shaking had stopped, your crying became quieter. Your hands were still clinging to the fabric of his shirt.

He was quiet and you could just feel his calm breathing, when you got quieter yourself after some time. He did not say anything, did not urge you. And you felt so comfortable. So safe. And you realized that you hadn't felt like this in months. You hadn't felt like this since you left.

You were only sobbing quietly after a while and moved your head back, to gaze at your best friend.

He looked at you, and on his lips was a little smile, as if he was looking at something precious.

You suddenly became very aware of his gaze.

“Don’t look at me. I look like a mess,” you cast your eyes down.

“Hot mess,” he said softly and you felt your cheeks flushing.

You tried to punch his chest, but he caught your fist in his hand, wrapping it around it, holding it. This time, you didn't try to struggle and pull it away, you felt this warmth from the closeness, not just surrounding your hand. You looked up from his big hand holding yours to his face, finding his eyes still on you.

“You're fucking beautiful and if he doesn't make you feel that way, he doesn't deserve you.”

An incredible heat was rushing to your face and you knew you were blushing crimson.

“You only say that because you’re my best friend.”

“I shouldn't say that because I am your best friend…”

Your lips opened at his words, but instead of speaking you only breathed in. And you could feel his breath on your face, on your lips. You closed your mouth and unconsciously your tongue touched your lips, as if trying to feel something there.

His blue eyes looked at you, so intensely, you could almost feel them on you.

His fingers moved and he was caressing your hand still in his. It was such a light movement, such a delicate touch, but it sent waves of electricity through your body. This tingling sensation made you restless and your body wriggled in his arms, making you well aware of the fact that you were sitting in his lap. You inhaled sharply.

“I should go,” you mumbled and tried to get up.

Rafe held you tighter, his hand around your fist pressed against is chest. His other arm around your back.

“Rafe, let me go,” you urged.

“Only when you tell me what he's done to you.”

“Nothing.”

You shook your head, but Rafe suddenly gripped your jaws again, and this time so hard, it hurt a little. He looked at you, his eyes narrowed, a frown on his forehead and his voice was so stern, so commanding, it made you shiver.

“What did he say to you? Tell me now.”

You looked down with your eyes but somehow you couldn't refuse his command.

“He called me a dumb slut and said you just wanted to use me.”

There was silence, a cold, icy silence. You watched his face.

His brows furrowed, his nostrils flared, his jaws clenched.

“I'm gonna kill him.”

You saw his eyes darken, his handsome features grew tense. And even though you were sure that he didn't mean what he said, you felt a shiver running down your spine, because he kind of looked as if he meant it.

He was about to get up, and you were slipping from his lap in that motion. But you clung to him.

“No, Rafe, don't!”

And even though you were weaker than him, your hands pressed on his broad shoulders and you somehow managed to push him down, so he remained seated and you found yourself straddling his lap now.

His chest was rising and falling, as if from exhaustion. His hands found your hips and you felt you were panting too. Suddenly feeling so hot and restless.

“I'm gonna go,” you said, but you didn't get up.

“I can't let you drive like this. You’re a bad driver anyway, and you'll surely crash into some tree or something when you drive in this state.”

You frowned at his words.

“But I need to get back to college in the morning.”

You felt his hands grip your hips firmer, even though you didn't try to move.

“You can just stay the night and drive in the morning after you've rested.”

It wouldn't be the first night you spent at your best friend's. Though it had been a while.

“Rose is redecorating the guest room – again. You can't sleep in there. But you can sleep in my bed, I'll sleep on the floor.”

“But –”

“No buts.”

And that and the stern look on his face shut you up.

You weren't in the mood to continue watching the movie marathon and it was late anyway, so you decided to go to sleep. Rafe gave you one of his t-shirts to wear for the night, and you went into the bathroom to change and wash your face. It was a warm night, so you only wore the t-shirt over your panties, it was way too big for you, but it was extremely comfortable.

When you returned to the bedroom, you found Rafe putting a blanket on the floor next to the bed, making some make-shift bed. He was just wearing boxer briefs, and even though the light was dim, you could see his well-defined body clearly. You'd seen him like this before, of course. Like when you had been at the beach or swimming in the pool. Yet somehow, seeing him in his underwear felt different, more intimate.

You stood there, hands clutching the hem of the oversized t-shirt at your thighs. And you looked at him when he straightened up and turned towards you.

You felt his eyes travelling over your body and you quickly started moving towards the bed.

“What are you doing there?”

Rafe tilted his head. You pointed at the floor.

“You don't have to sleep on the floor. Your bed is big enough for the two of us. This is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, maybe I don't want to get hit when you're tossing and turning in your sleep?”

“I did that once! When I was eight!”

“Once was enough. And it really hurt when you punched my ribs in your sleep. So, no thank you. I'll take the floor.”

Rafe took a pillow from the bed and was about to set it on the floor when you grabbed his arm, to get that pillow back.

“You're stupid. This is stupid!”

You frowned at him, pulled at his arm, to get the pillow, and in your struggling with him, he must have lost balance, because you suddenly found yourself on your back on the bed and Rafe was lying on top of you. That pillow still in his hand, your hand around his wrist, with his arm and yours above your head on the bed.

You looked up at him, your face just an inch away from his. You could hardly see his features, but you felt the proximity, felt it so intensely. Felt that heat that was radiating from his body, felt it crawling over your skin. You felt the weight of his body on yours. And your breathing got harder.

You felt him shift, just a bit, on top of you, as if trying not to crush you and you inhaled and his scent filled your lungs.

You felt a light touch on your cheek. The fingertips of his free hand caressed your face.

“I'll sleep in the bed with you, if you promise me not to cry over that douchebag anymore,” his voice low, as he spoke those words, moving his lips so close hovering over yours. His eyes held your gaze. You nodded softly. And he got up and you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding in.

You kept lying on your back, just for some seconds, unable to move, still feeling his fingertips on your cheek, his body's weight pressing you down, feeling dizzy all of a sudden.

But then the bed tilted and you looked to the side, seeing that Rafe was getting into the bed, and you moved to make room for him.

You lay on your side, facing him as he pulled the blanket over you. His face once again close to yours, just for some seconds.

“Night, y/n.”

“Good night, Rafe.”

He turned on his back and switched off the lights. You turned to the other side and closed your eyes, focused on his breathing. You felt your own heart beating so rapidly at first, but after some time, you got calmer and were able to relax.

You must have fallen asleep, because when you woke up, you felt Rafe's body close behind yours, his arm loosely wrapped around you. You smelled his dark scent so intensely, felt his heat getting under your shirt. You felt his breath at the back of your head and a light shiver was running down your spine.

“Rafe?” You softly whispered his name, but he must have been fast asleep. He didn't answer, didn't move.

Carefully you placed your hand on his, your fingertips feeling along his long fingers.

He didn't move. His breathing still so calm.

His chest was pressing against your back and you could feel his regular heartbeat. It felt so familiar. You felt so safe.

And yet you couldn't stay still.

You bit your lips and moved, just a bit, arching your back, moving your butt back, pressing it against his crotch.

His breathing remained calm, telling you, he was still asleep, still unaware of what you were doing.

And you moved your butt just a little bit more and you felt him, felt him so prominently, you gasped in surprise. That tingling you felt turned into something hotter and you felt your core pulsing all of a sudden. You were breathing through your opened mouth as you felt this heat rushing through your body.

But Rafe was still breathing calmly, he was still asleep.

You felt him stir behind you, felt how hard he was, poking against your ass.

His palm was on your lower stomach. You felt it move under your hand. His calm breathing so close to your ear.

His hand moved down, moved over the fabric of the t-shirt you were wearing, and the pressure made you gasp and push back a little more.

You let go off his hand, but grasped the sheets. You tried to calm your breathing, but you were panting as you felt his fingers move under your shirt, felt his warm touch on your burning skin.

You couldn't see anything but you pressed your eyes shut nonetheless as his fingers slipped into your panties. They touched your heat, touched your most sensitive parts.

You let out a small whimper and your back arched further.

You listened, but he was so calm, so still, as if he was still asleep, and only his fingers were moving. And they moved between your legs. His fingers gently parting your folds.

You pressed your mouth shut, but you were sure that embarrassingly whining sound could be heard in the darkness of the room.

His fingertip rubbed your pearl and your body reacted, tensing up as you felt this incredible hot need literally throbbing.

You felt his breath so close to your ear and it sent a different kind of shiver through your body.

One finger slipped inside you, and you clenched around it hard. But he pushed deeper and you gasped. And you didn't know how but you were so wet, it made it easy for him to add another finger, though you pressed your legs tightly together.

For a moment, his digits just remained there, inside you, not moving. So very still like the rest of his body.

Then you felt his hard cock pressing against your ass, the length between your cheeks. And as if following some instinct, you rocked your hips, rubbed against him, creating more friction, creating more heat that made you shiver.

His fingers started moving inside you, pushing deeper, curling, and finding a spot that made you outright moan, and unable to suppress that sound.

His thumb pressed hard on your pearl, teasing you and sending hot bolts of pure need through your body. And your body was on heat, there was no other way to describe it. Every cell of your body was aching for his touch now. And he touched you, so good, so intensely, so determined.

You were moaning and whimpering as his fingers opened you up, made you spread your legs, urging him to go deeper, pushing against his thrusts, and pressing against his hardness.

You felt your climax building up quickly as his fingers pushed harder, moved deeper and more ruthlessly inside you, taking you.

You felt his hot lips on your neck as you pushed your head back, your body convulsing. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, but you weren't sure if you were trying to stop him – or if you even could.

His thumb rubbing your most sensitive pearl, making you clamp your walls around his fingers, you couldn't have stopped it, it was almost as if he was forcing that orgasm into you and you gave in, gave in willingly and with everything you had, everything you were, letting that wave of pure pleasure roll over you. Moaning shamelessly, your body trembling as his fingers fucked you through an overwhelming climax.

You lay there, panting, sweat covering your body, and you were still feeling dizzy from the aftermath of that amazing orgasm, when you felt a shiver of cold. He lifted the blanket off of you. And before you could ask why, you felt his hand on your thigh and he lifted up your leg. And before you could wonder what he was up to, you felt his fingers push your soaking wet panties to the side. And before you could really grasp what was going on, you felt his hard cock push inside you from behind.

You cried out as you were stretched by his thickness.

His hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries, as he pushed deeper, pushed his whole length into you. You felt like he was splitting you in two, he was so big, pushing so hard, but at the same time this was all you wanted, all your body was craving for.

Your body shook from his hard thrusts, and he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close, making you feel his rapid heartbeat, making you feel him, so intensely, you forgot where you ended and where he began. You felt as if you were melting into him as he took you with long hard thrusts, took you as if you were only his.

And when you felt his hot cum spilling inside you, your body convulsed so hard around him, making him gasp into your ear and you came again, and he was fucking you through another high, this time not as fierce, but even more intense as you felt this connection with him, something you had never felt before.

You were still panting and your body was trembling as he rolled you around and took you in his arms. His lips kissing your face, tasting your sweat, tasting your tears.

“You're one of my sluts now.”

You froze as you heard his dark whisper.

“What?” You moved your head back to look at him though it was too dark to make out his features.

“I said, go back to sleep now,” he said, softly. And kissed your forehead, before cradling you in his strong arms. Your head resting against his shoulder, as he held you. Held you close.

a/n: Thank you for reading. This was probably much sweeter than what I usually write. I hope you enjoyed it. All feedback is very much appreciated.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Calling On You

Wanda Maximoff × Natasha Romanoff x fem!Avenger!reader

Summary: When your ex Natasha calls up needing your help, you come to her rescue like you always have.

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, anxiety/panic attacks, hurt and comfort, thigh riding, N calls R Mistress, R fingers N

A/N: I love this little piece. Also should mention this is hurt/comfort and smutty with a happy ending!

“Hey I know we haven't talked since we broke up, but I'm having a breakdown and I didn't know who else to call…” Nat talked into the phone, the answering machine. “I-” Nat was cut off by the answering machine beeping as she hung up, “I need you…” 

Nat wasn't okay when her head got like this. When everything was quiet except for her thoughts that were overwhelmingly loud about how terrible she was for everything she had done over the years. All the red in her ledger was overwhelming. Natasha Romanoff is not a good person no matter how many good things she had done.

Natasha too wrapped up in her overwhelming thoughts didn't hear you come in as you ran up to her, dropping your bag and cupping the former assassin's cheeks. 

Clearly in the middle of a major depressive episode, her eyes searching yours trying to figure out if you were in fact real.

“...you came…” Natasha whispered.

“You called.” It was a simple response, but one that resonated with Natasha as you pulled back slightly, opening up your arms for her to come crashing into. “I've got you Tasha. I'm not going to let anyone or anything hurt you, including yourself.” Natasha started crying, heaving sobs as she tried to breath properly. “Shhhh it's okay. I'm here. Can you tell me 5 things you can see?” Natasha still sobbing looked around.

“My bookshelf, my TV, your bag, my peanut butter sandwich, you.”

“4 things you can touch?”

“The floor, my shirt, the curtains, you.”

“3 things you can hear?”

“The cars outside, the neighbors TV, your breathing.”

“Two things you can smell?”

“My peanut butter sandwich, your perfume.” Natasha was nervous. The last one you were about to ask Natasha had only ever had one response and you could tell she wasn't sure if it would be okay now.

“One thing you can taste?” Natasha let her eyes flick between your eyes and your lips. You cupped her cheek letting your thumb pad rub her cheek.

“Y-you?” Natasha questioned, but to you it wasn't; it never would be. You leaned in and kissed your ex softly, your strawberry lip gloss getting transferred onto her own dry and cracked lips. You pulled away, leaning your forehead against Natasha's.

“Feel better?” You ask and Tasha nods. “Good now I know exactly what you need.” You stood up, helping Natasha up and putting her back in front of her peanut butter sandwich. “Eat please. I'm going to get everything together.” You kissed her temple before disappearing into the other room. 

Tasha did as told and ate. She heard you shuffling around and then the scent hit her, popcorn, a smile spread on her face. Suddenly she knew what you were doing, a movie night.

The two of you were on the couch watching spy movies, Natasha’s favorites as she recited them word for word during her favorite parts which you always loved to hear. A smile on your lips as you watched her intently. Natasha knew you were watching her, of course she did. She's a trained assassin and spy, but having your eyes on her was always her favorite.

You don’t remember when it happened exactly, but Natasha was now laying on top of you with a blanket covering the two of you on her couch. John Wick forgotten in the background as your eyes closed along with her, running your fingers through her red and blonde locks. 

When the two of you broke up her hair was short and dyed blonde for a new identity she had taken on. One you couldn’t be a part of, that was now two years ago. 

Natasha never decided to cut or re-dye the blonde, but if you were being honest this was one of your favorite looks that the spy has pulled off. 

Natasha ends up falling asleep on you and slowly you move until she’s grumbling, straddling your lap as you smile, “Shhhh milaya devushka.” (sweet girl) you coo as she settles into your body, fitting perfectly like she always did, face buried in your neck. You hook your arms under her thighs, picking her up easily thanks to your super-human strength. 

Flashback

The first time you picked up Natasha she was surprised because you're smaller than her, much smaller. It was something that took her off guard when in the middle of a mission and you guys were ambushed, bullets flying you rushed to her side when one pierced her, picking her up without a second thought, holding her bridal style and yelling over the coms, “Natasha’s been hit, I’m getting her to safety!” Steve gave a quick reply that he could handle things.

You hadn’t been with the group long at that point and at that point besides Fury and Tony no one knew the full extent of your powers. You had told the group of having a stockpile power. The more you got hit the more you could dish back out, but you also had super strength, a speed boost, and super durability along with advanced healing.

“H-how are you doing this!?” Natasha asked as you ran quickly, dodging bullets and knocking out enemies along the way. 

“I have super strength, speed, durability, and healing. Can we discuss this after I’ve gotten you to a safe place?” You ask, getting her in the passenger seat of a car, getting yourself into the driver's seat and peeling off. 

“Fury. Agent Romanoff has been hit. En route to S.H.I.E.L.D’s hospital.” 

“Is Cap and Falcon holding it down?”

“Yes Sir.” 

“Update me in an hour.” 

You did just that as you sat next to Natasha, they pulled the bullet out and stitched her up. “Tasha, you have to be more careful...” you spoke somberly.

“I do what needs to get done for the mission.” She replies.

“Don’t do that with me Tasha. Don’t go cold.”

“You know I’m not trying to be cold, but this is who I am. On missions I only think about that.” Natasha defends herself.

“Tasha...I love you so can you at least try?” The words catch her off guard so much so that she can’t even form words. You put your hand behind her neck leaning your foreheads together. “Please for me Tasha.” you whisper. 

“O-okay...” You let your lips brush hers, waiting for her to reciprocate and when she does you melt into the kiss, into her.

End Flashback

You watched Natasha for a few moments, breathing evened out, lips slightly parted. Your attention is pulled away as your phone vibrates in your pocket, it's your girlfriend. You slip back out to the living room trying not to disturb her, but Natasha is a light sleeper. 

"Hey, Wands. Sorry I rushed out the door earlier," You apologized, trying to keep your voice low.

"Where did you run off to?" Wanda inquired, her concern evident in her tone.

"Tasha called me," You admitted, knowing that honesty was the foundation of your relationship.

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Wanda spoke again. "She hasn't called you since you two broke up. What happened?"

You sighed, explaining the situation to Wanda. "She was having a really bad night. She needed some grounding."

"Will you be coming home tonight?" Wanda asked, her concern shifting to the practicalities of our shared life.

"I don't think so," You replied honestly.

It was quiet for a moment before you decided to be completely transparent. "Wands, I'm going to be honest with you. Natasha and I kissed. It was always a part of grounding her back, and you should know that because I'd never lie to you."

Wanda absorbed the information, and after a thoughtful pause, she asked, "Do you think anything else is going to happen?"

"I don't think so. She's sleeping now. We just had a movie night, watched her spy movies, a little bit of cuddling, but she was tired from her panic attack," you explained.

"Well, if anything does, you have permission," Wanda granted, her trust in our relationship evident.

"You're so cute, Wands. I know you'd want to be here for that," you teased, feeling the warmth of your connection even through the phone.

"S-shut up, Y/N/N. Just enjoy the rest of your night. I'm gonna see what Carol and Val are up to tonight," Wanda chuckled.

"Okay, pretty girl. You have fun too, okay?" You told her.

"Of course. Whatever I end up doing is going to be fun. I love you, Detka," Wanda declared affectionately.

"I love you too, querida,(dear)" you replied before hanging up. 

With a Gatorade in hand, you made your way back to Natasha's room, choosing an old shirt of hers from the closet. The shirt was large on you, but you loved the comfort it brought. Opting to go without pants, you crawled into bed, wrapping your arms around Natasha.

She stirred, her eyes meeting your own in the dim light. "I thought you were asleep, meu amor," you whispered, pushing some hair out of her face and cupping her cheek.

You saw a shiver run through her, and a smile played on your lips as you settled in for the night, grateful for the warmth and connection that surrounded the two of you.

"You're still here..." Tasha whispered, barely audible. 

"Yeah, of course. Wanda called because of how quickly I left the house earlier. She's going to go have some fun with Carol and Val," you explained softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Natasha's face.

Her emerald eyes searched yours, a hint of vulnerability lurking behind their depths. "What about you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you tightened your hold around her, drawing her closer to you. "I am going to stay right here," you replied, your voice low and reassuring. "And take care of you. Whatever that entails."

You felt her body relax against your own, her warmth seeping into your skin as she nestled closer. But you needed to hear it from her, to know that she wanted this as much as you did.

"So tell me, using those big girl words of yours, what is it you want out of this?" You asked, your voice deepening with desire. You knew the effect your voice had on her. It was a connection that transcended any physical touch, an enchantment that bound the two of you together in a dance of desire and longing.

"What can we do?" Natasha ask. A mischievous grin played on your lips as I watched Natasha's reaction, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at your teasing words.

"Anything, sweetie," You reiterated, your voice low and suggestive. "When I say Wanda's going out with them, I mean it in the dirtiest way that little brain of yours can imagine. Go on, imagine it. I love thinking about it."

You leaned in closer, your breath brushing against her skin as you whispered into her ear, relishing in the way her body squirmed against yours in response to your words. The anticipation crackled between the two of you, igniting a fire that burned with desire and longing.

Natasha's eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and arousal, her mind undoubtedly conjuring up all sorts of illicit fantasies. And as her blush deepened and her breath quickened, you knew that whatever you two decided to do next would be nothing short of exhilarating.

"You wanna know something?" You continued, relishing in the way her body responded to your touch. She nodded eagerly, her lips still caught between her teeth.

"There have been times where Wanda's gone off with Carol and them fucking?" You murmured, watching her reaction with a predatory gleam in your eyes. "It's like two universes clashing, their powers coming undone from each other. It's such a beautiful sight. Val and I love watching them collide like two stars."

As you spoke, Natasha's hips began to move against your leg, seeking friction and release. You smirked, feeling a surge of arousal coursing through you as you continued to explore her body with your hands, each touch reigniting the passion that had always simmered between you two.

"That's a good girl," you whispered, encouraging her to let her fantasies run wild. "Keep thinking about it."

With a hunger that bordered on desperation, you surrendered to the heat of the moment, losing yourself in the sensation of her body against your own. It felt as though no time had passed since you last shared this intimacy, your connection burning brighter than ever before. And as your desires collided like celestial bodies in the night sky, you knew that this moment would be etched into your memory forever.

The intoxicating sounds of pleasure that escaped Natasha's lips only fueled your desire further, igniting a primal hunger within you that demanded to be sated. The knowledge that you had the infamous Black Widow submitting to you, surrendering herself completely, filled you with a sense of power unlike anything else.

With a firm grip on her hip, you let your nails dig into her skin, relishing in the way she responded with a soft mewl of pleasure. "Keep moving your hips, baby," you encouraged, guiding her movements against your leg. "Just like that. I can feel you all over me. Is that from thinking about Wanda and Carol?" you teased, your smirk evident in your voice.

Natasha's breath hitched as she struggled to form a coherent response, her body moving against yours in a rhythm that spoke volumes. But you wouldn't let her off that easily.

"That's not a proper response, sweetie," you chided lightly, your grip on her hip tightening slightly. "What's my name?"

Her hesitation was palpable, but her body continued to move against yours until you intervened, halting her movements with a firm grip. "Answer me," you demanded, your voice laced with authority. "Otherwise, I can leave you like this."

Her eyes snapped open, pupils dilated with desire and anticipation. "Yes, Mistress," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

A smirk played on your lips as you leaned in, brushing your lips against hers in a feather-light kiss. "Good girl," you whispered against her lips before claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss, your bodies moving together in perfect synchrony.

The sensation of Natasha's body writhing beneath you, her soft moans and desperate pleas echoing in the air, fueled the fire burning within you. With a wicked smile, you continued to dig your nails into her skin, guiding her hips as she rolled against you, her arousal evident in the slickness between her thighs.

"Mmmm, Mistress...need..." she murmured, her voice laced with desire as she surrendered herself to the depths of subspace.

"What do you need, baby girl?" You whispered against her neck, your lips trailing kisses along her skin as you savored the taste of her.

"Need you. Inside. Please, Mistress!" Natasha begged, her desperation palpable as she sought release from the tormenting pleasure that coursed through her veins.

Her words sent a surge of arousal coursing through you, your desire for her growing with each passing moment. With a predatory gleam in your eyes, you withdrew your fingers from her hips and slid them past the waistband of her shorts, reveling in the feeling of her wetness coating your skin.

"Gods, you're soaked, krasivaya devushka,(pretty girl)" you whispered, your voice husky with desire as you teased her folds with feather-light touches. "Tell me, what made you like this?"

Natasha's breath hitched as your fingers danced along her sensitive flesh, eliciting a chorus of gasps and moans from her lips. "Th-thinking about... ah... Wands... and Captain..." she managed to stutter out, her words punctuated by soft gasps of pleasure.

"Good girl," you murmured, your voice thick with lust as you continued to tease her, your fingers delving deeper and deeper until she was on the brink of ecstasy. "Keep thinking about it while I stick my fingers in and make you see stars."

With that, you plunged your fingers inside her, setting off a chain reaction of pleasure that sent her spiraling into the depths of bliss. And as she cried out in ecstasy, her body trembling against yours, you knew that this was just the beginning of a night filled with passion and desire.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

As you scrambled to cover yourselves at the sound of the front door opening, Wanda walked into Natasha's bedroom with three coffees in hand, a smirk playing on her lips at the sight of us.

"Good morning. Did you two sleep well? Because I was kept up all night," Wanda teased, unfazed by your half-naked state.

She leaned in to give you a kiss, and you couldn't help but chuckle at her comment. "Did you even brush your teeth, you heathen? I can still taste her on you!" You called her out, earning a smirk in response.

"I know you love her taste," Wanda retorted playfully, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Turning to Natasha, you asked if she had any spare toothbrushes, and she directed you to the medicine cabinet. You grabbed the coffees from Wanda, urging her to leave with a playful swat to her backside.

"Go. Now," You commanded, smirking as she yelped in surprise.

"Aww, still sore?" You teased, giving her ass another playful smack before pushing her forward. You could tell that despite her attempts to hide it, Wanda was finding it difficult to walk normally after her own night of passion.

As Wanda made her way out of the bedroom, you turned back to Natasha, a smile playing on your lips as you realized just how lucky you were to have both of these incredible women in your life.

"Do you deal with that everyday?" Natasha asks seeing how cheerful Wanda was in the morning and knowing full well you was never a morning person. 

"Yeah, I deal with that every day," You replied to Natasha's question, observing Wanda's cheerful demeanor in the morning. "But I can tell she had a good time, so it's worth it."

Taking a sip of your lavender oat milk latte, you let out a content hum. "And when she comes home with coffee and breakfast from my favorite place, how can I be upset in the morning?"

Natasha took a sip from her coffee, realizing it was her go-to order. "Did you tell her...?" she asked, curiosity evident in her tone.

"Actually, I told her once, two years ago," You explained, recalling the incident. "I was getting us drinks and accidentally ordered yours out of habit for Wanda, and ended up with an extra drink."

"And she remembered?" Natasha inquired, surprised by Wanda's attention to detail.

"I guess so. It's never been brought up again," you replied with a shrug, impressed by Wanda's ability to remember such small details.

As you finished your conversation about Wanda's thoughtfulness, she made her way back into the bedroom, joining you two on the bed with breakfast in hand.

"I do have breakfast if either of you are up for it," she offered, looking between the two of you with a smile.

"Thank you, babe. You're always so attentive," you praised, watching as Wanda did a cute little wiggle, scrunching up her nose in response. I could see the smile it brought to Natasha's face, and my heart swelled with love for both of them.

"Is this what it would be like? This easy?" Natasha spoke quietly, grabbing a piece of turkey bacon.

"What do you mean, meu amor?" You asked, taking a bite of your bagel.

"This. Us. All three of us. This just feels so easy, like falling into a comfortable bed or couch after a long day," Natasha explained, her words carrying a hint of wonder.

You looked at Wanda and smiled, tilting your head, silently encouraging her to share her thoughts.

'Go on,' you spoke to Wanda telepathically.

"Natasha, this can be whatever you want," Wanda began, her voice soothing and reassuring. "Y/N and I are together, but we would both love to have you join us. If you want that. But you can always just be with Y/N, or you don't even have to define it as a relationship. You can just come and go as you please, and we'll always be willing to let you join in our fun, whether that be one or both of us."

Wanda's words held a comforting warmth, a sense of safety that enveloped Natasha like a protective embrace. Her ability to convey reassurance was remarkable, and you could see the impact it had on Natasha, who seemed to be considering the possibilities laid out before her.

As Wanda spoke, her words filled the room with a mix of vulnerability and sincerity. Your heart swelled with emotion as she confessed her feelings for both Natasha and you, recounting the cherished memories you shared during our movie nights and bonding moments.

"But what I'm trying to say, really, is through the little moments the three of us used to share, I ended up falling for both of you," Wanda continued, her accent thickening with emotion. You couldn't help but feel a lump form in your throat as she spoke.

"When Y/N told me about why you two broke up and how she still had feelings, I ended up spilling my own to her about you as well," Wanda confessed, tears prickling the corners of her eyes. "We talked it over for a long time and decided you would be the only actual fit to keep in our dynamic because we already had it before."

As Natasha set down her breakfast, wiping her hands on the sweatpants the two of you had managed to grab for her, her expression was a mix of surprise and tentative hope.

"I... I would... I'd like that... the three of us again," Natasha managed to say, her voice filled with emotion.

Without hesitation, Wanda and you both moved to entangle yourselves with Natasha, enveloping her in a tight embrace. In that moment, it felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders, and you knew that together, the three of you could navigate whatever challenges lay ahead.

"Eu amo vocês dois,(I love you both)" you mumbled against Natasha's shoulder, feeling the weight of your shared love in the air.

"Я тоже тебя люблю,(I love you too)" both Natasha and Wanda responded simultaneously, their voices filled with affection and warmth.

"I already have both of you conditioned so well. My good little baby," you remarked with a playful smirk, cupping Natasha's cheek tenderly before turning to Wanda and doing the same. "And my good little pet."

You leaned in to kiss Wanda's lips first, savoring the softness and warmth before turning to Natasha and pressing your lips against hers. In that moment, surrounded by the love of these two incredible women, you felt a sense of completeness wash over your body.

"My two beautiful girls. Mine, all mine," you whispered, sealing your bond with a promise of love and devotion. And as you embraced each other, you knew that together, the three of you were unstoppable.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

John getting drunk Santino home (Santino tripped over his own feet)

Hiiiii :3 This really veered off of the prompt aaaaaa it's not exactly the same thing, but it is filled with DRAMA!

(Also, this picture is pure gold. I think it’s saved on my Pinterest in like three places and it makes me feel something every time I see it.)

🖤💙 Walking Home 💙🖤

TW: alcohol, arguing

It was a brilliantly clear night in the streets of Rome. The cobblestones were scattered with flecks of golden lamplight and the moon perched its yellow hemisphere low on the horizon, echoing the distant domes of cathedrals. But John Wick had rarely felt his heart sit so heavily in his chest.

The evening had started off well enough. It was the third day of a getaway to Rome, which John had requested in an effort to keep Santino from working himself to death, and which Santino had agreed to because he never missed an excuse to pamper his “little guard dog”. After sleeping in and spending the day exploring museums and old shops, they’d finally ended up in a gorgeous restaurant and bar that John would never have noticed if Santino hadn’t been familiar with the area. It was there that the waiter mistook them for a married couple. John turned the same color as the tomato passata and said he thought that was very sweet. That he could picture it.

Santino disagreed. “What, you want to settle down and get married? Be serious, John.”

“And you don’t?”

He scoffed. “Me? Married? I can’t imagine a worse life, honestly. Well, I might have to marry for an alliance one day, but - ”

“You’re telling me you don’t see a future for us?”

And from there, things…escalated.

John had stormed out and found himself walking, weaving through crooked streets without really seeing them, replaying the memories of their argument over and over in his head. He winced again, thinking of the look on Santino’s face at the idea of marriage. It stabbed him right in the heart every time, to think that growing old together disgusted Santino so much. But why should he be surprised? He was just a killer, and Santino was a prince.

He found his footsteps heading for the Continental, since he had no intention of returning to the D’Antonio estate that night. Clearly this was the end of things between them. Why did he let himself get so attached in the first place? He was on a narrow, residential street that slanted downwards sharply enough to give him sight of rooftops stretching away, and to see that he was completely alone. He stopped, fought with himself for half a moment…but if he was going to break down anywhere, it might as well be here. He slumped forward into his hands and just let himself cry.

It was then that he heard someone calling his name.

“John, che - che cazzo ci fai qui? Stronzo. Devi seguirmi. [John – what the – what the fuck are you doing here? You asshole. You must be following me.]”

He opened his eyes to see the small, lithe figure that had emerged from some side street, dark curls glowing in the lamplight. He bristled and tried to wipe at his face before Santino could see anything. “I did NOT – “ but he stopped short. Something didn’t seem right about the way Santino was moving. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am! Me and the pinot grigio made our own fun without you. We even invited the whiskey. What do…wait…are you okay?” Santino had reached him by this point and absently patted a hand against his cheek, feeling tears.

“Hey, stop it…” But John could smell the alcohol on his breath. Both anger and hurt had instantly drowned in concern.  “You’re drunk.”

“You’re crying. Don’t cry…” Santino was clingy in this state, his arms wrapping around John’s neck and his forehead butting into his chest. John didn’t know what to do with himself. The impulse was to hug him back but after the way they’d fought, he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

“Why do you care? I thought…” I thought we were broken up… “You know what, never mind. What are you doing out here? Where’s Ares?”

He pushed off of John’s chest again and stumbled a few steps. “I told her to leave me alone! Just…wanna go home…I think it was that way…” Home was not, in fact, that way.

John shuddered at the thought of the perils inherent in an important, highly recognizable man like Santino wandering unguarded through the streets, too drunk to defend himself. Guilt settled deep in his stomach. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that.” He fell into step with Santino, his eyes glued to him with concern and an arm hovering behind his back in case he lost balance. “The Continental is near here. We’ll go there, get a car, find Ares. Okay?”

Santino waved a hand dismissively but he couldn’t carry the gesture at all right now. “Don’t…don’t hover! I can walk.” His shoe hit an odd cobblestone and at that steep angle, it sent him reeling forward. John caught him around the waist before he could go down. He waited to be pushed away but Santino just leaned against him, and this time John couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around him. He felt so damn confused, but at least he’d rather be uncertain they were broken up than certain of it.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Santino let his weight fall against him even harder, pushing him back against a lamppost, and slurred, “Non posso essere quello che vuoi, John. Non sono... semplice. Pensi che potrei essere un marito? Guardami. Un litigio e... [I can’t be wha- you want, John. I’m not…simple. You think I could be a husband? Look at me. One fight and…]” He waved an arm across his dishevelment.

John opened his mouth to insist that he'd be a beautiful husband, even like this, but he still wasn’t done. “Vuoi che sia gentile e normale e non lo sono, ok? Sono un mostro, John. Non voglio sposarmi e vivere in qualche piccolo sobborgo a cuocere biscotti. Voglio metterti in mostra davanti alla Tavola Alta e poi sputargli in faccia. Sputare... sputare proiettili in faccia. Voglio scoparti finché... finché non sarò morto e ti amerò oltre la tomba. [You want me to be gentle and normal and I’m not, okay? I am a freak, John. I don’t want to get married and live in some little suburb baking cookies. I want to show you off in front of the High Table and then spit in their faces. Spit…spit bullets in their faces. I want to fuck you until…until I’m dead and love you beyond the grave.]”

John exhaled helplessly, beyond the powers of speech. He tipped his head back for a moment, eyes fixed on the vast chasm between the stars in a way that made him feel like he was falling upward for infinity. His hands were curled around Santino’s arm almost painfully, twisting the fabric. As soon as he found his tongue again, “È quello che voglio. Non mi interessa un pezzo di carta. E non mi interessa dove viviamo o se facciamo parte della Tavola. Non mi interessa nemmeno se avremo mai pace. Voglio TE. [That’s what I want. I don’t care about a piece of paper. And I don’t care where we live or whether we’re a part of the Table. I don’t even care if we ever have peace. I want YOU.]”

“Allora... di che cazzo stiamo discutendo? [Then…what the fuck are we arguing about?]”

John wasn’t sure which one of them started laughing first, but it wound up with lips and teeth pressed together, and Santino tugging hard on his lapels. And it ended with their gazes locked together, two stupidly sweet smiles matching the big “D” of the half moon.

He pulled Santino’s arm over his shoulder and started walking. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”

[johnwickcaretaker]

⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⚜

John Wick x Marquis de Gramont, A.K.A. "churchduel", enemies to lovers.

TW: blood, gunshot wounds, crying, panic attacks, drug addiction, overdose, vomiting, toxic dynamics, smut

Summary: John Wick and The Marquis de Gramont both faked their deaths on that fateful day at the Basilica. But when Vincent seeks John's help, he isn't expecting genuine compassion.

❋ AO3

❋ Chapter I: Trouble

❋ Chapter II: Flight on a Dark Horse

❋ Chapter III: Blue Moon Motel

❋ Chapter IV: Disarming

❋ Chapter V: Painkillers

❋ Chapter VI: At the Top

❋ Chapter VII: Can't Last Forever

❋ Chapter VIII: Stay With Me

❋ Chapter IX: Sleeping Angel, Waking Demon

❋ Chapter X: The Truth

❋ Chapter XI: Bold Plans

❋ Chapter XII: Time to Reflect

❋ Chapter XIII: The Belle of the Bowery

❋ Chapter XIV: A Date at the Mall

❋ Chapter XV: A Vow to the Lion

❋ Chapter XVI: Castles in the Air

❋ Chapter XVII: The Ascent

❋ Chapter XVIII: The Peak

❋ Chapter XIX: The Fall

Extra Ficlets:

❋ Patching Up a Wound

❋ Sharing a Bed

Worldbuilding and Inspiration:

❋ Playlist

❋ Original Location: Blue Moon Motel

❋ Original Character: Marjorie Becker

❋ Original Location: Bellwood Mall

❋ Original Character: The Belle of the Bowery

❋ Original Character: The New Elder

❋ Vincent's Drawing of John and Dog

❋ Mini John Carries Mini Vinnie

[deathbxnny]

Woooo, congrats on 1k followers, sure has been a ride, huh?

Now, with requests back open, it's time time for the sequel to my Arle request!

Okay so, like I said in that ask I sent a while ago, this one takes place in the same "continuity" as the angsty af Arle request you did last req period. This one takes place some time after that story, and is less angsty in this case (but there's definitely still some here).

Here, similarily to the last request, the "Mother" of the House is staying in... let's say Fontaine, tending to one of the injured children (could be some rando kid, or maybe it's one of the Fontaine trio) after a mission. Unlike last time though, it's looking as though the child will pull through, that "Mother" won't have to bury another of her kids!

Bad news tho, the people responsible for the child's injuries are coming around to finish what they started. Arle, who's handling business elsewhere, catches wind of this and makes haste to help her wife.

Little did those who came to finish the child realize what danger they're in. Because you see, fem!reader is a former child of the House of Hearth. Not just that, she's the wife of a Harbinger. Normally she doesn't engage in violence, but these people Hage intentions of ending her child's life, and she simply cannot let that slide.

And so, Arle arrives just in time to bare witness to her s/o going absolutely John Wick (does she kill anyone with a pencil? That's up to you 🤭) on the bandits who dared to cross her not once, but twice.

(Part one) (part three) (Part four)

Ohoho.... I absolutely love this, dear Anon, and I'm hoping you'll love my spin on this as well!! Although I have to admit that I gave it a bit of a mellow end, instead of the "John Wick" type of ending, mainly because I found it more fitting with what I was going for... but anyhow, thank you so much for this request, I was definitely looking forward to it, hehe!!<33

Content: Some gore, Near character death, mentions of near fatal injuries/wounds, blood, mentions of grief/child loss, Reader snapping, violence, assassination attempts, Reader is referred to as "Mother", heavy angst, hurt/comfort, kind of a good ending for once?, stitches

Reader uses she/her pronouns here!!

((Not proofread))

The last one standing had crimson palms. (Arlecchino x Fem!Reader)

"I... I wish to..." "Shh... not another word, child... don't you dare say it." Your hands were stained red once more, pressing down on another gashing, deep wound, sweat running down your forehead as everyone around you attempted to stop the bleeding. You didn't want him to see what had become of him, one hand resting over his teary eyes to stop your heart from shattering any further. You wished she was here, your dearest wife, who had to choose this week of all the others to leave the country for a short business trip.

And today was supposed to be a good day. One filled with the laughter of children and the smell of grilled sausages and steaks coming from the garden. You were trying to have a little festival together to celebrate the start of warmer months. But the atmosphere had now become suffocating with the smell of sharp iron and sweat instead, the gentle warmth now scorching hot, exhausting, and grinding you down to the bone. However, you couldn't let go of him now. You couldn't let him die. You refused to give up on him, especially. You refused to let him become another buried angel.

His hand pressed against yours weakly, his breaths deep, pathetic gasps for air, as he tried telling you something important through broken cries. "Mother... Mother, please, you have to listen to me." He coughed out, blood staining his lips, as his other hand reached out blindly to grasp onto the fabric of your once white sundress. You furrowed your brows against the darkness of the room, light only filtering in through the moon outside and the shaky hands of Lynette trying to keep a lantern steady so her twin could keep patching his younger brother up.

"What is it, Freminet?" You indulged him, trying to keep him awake at all costs. His voice was hoarse, raspy, once silky blonde hair now sticking to his forehead as he gulped dryly to collect his thoughts.

"They are coming for us, mother... and you are next."

Lyney gave you a look, one filled with an undefined emotion he only ever had when it came to your protection. If you didn't know better, you would've been terrified at how similar he was becoming to his father. "Those assassins we encountered during our mission, Mother... they weren't ordinary ones, to say the least." He muttered to you, his mind replaying the moment one of them struck his brother, who was just trying to protect them out of pure instinct. He was brave, despite the shyness he often portrayed.

"How so?" You wiped away the sweat on your forehead, nose wrinkling when another member of the house handed you a medkit before they disappeared into the shadows again. "They... knew us by name. Every single one of us. And then-" You waved over Lynette to stand in your place whilst her twin spoke, so you could unpack the needed supplies for the upcoming "operation" you had to conduct on your son. You've become a near professional over the years. Something else you didn't choose to do nor want to be.

"-They uttered your name. We... believe that they are trying to weaken Father. And you are that weakness they are seeking, Mother.-" "-They've come to finish the job. We... we need to evacuate everyone.. we need to hide her.-" Lynette hushed Freminet quickly, as she pressed some cloth into his mouth. With a glance downwards to his wound, she determined that it would definitely hurt horribly to stitch him up... but he'd live. For the first time in weeks, someone would live. She closed her eyes to hide those tears that threatened to spill in relief.

You stared at the three of them for a moment before you simply proceeded with placing the first few stitches into the boy's wound wordlessly. He writhed in pain, his fingernails digging into the mattress below whilst his screams and cries were muffled by the cloth. Lyney and Lynette were trying to hold him down, their bodies wincing involuntarily at every sharp breath or movement from their brother. Your expression was meanwhile unreadable, hands moving automatically until you cut the string and were done with your little procedure. It's as if your mind completely fazed out, only driven by the need to fix and protect, keep everyone alive no matter what.

"Lyney." The young man hesitantly met your gaze, his body shaking when his brother fell limply into the bed again, his breathing heavy and uneven. "Evacuate everyone into the upper floors and then come back to watch over Freminet." You said, quick to wipe your hands with a nearby towel nearly coldly, but Lyney knew that look in your eyes. You were sick of it and would take it all into your own hands if your wife couldn't. "Mother, you can't just-" "-Lynette, use the backdoor and let this bird free." You tapped the golden cage on the nightstand with your fingers, the little sparrow chirping curiously. It was a messenger bird, one specifically designed to catch your wife's attention and bring her home instantly when things got out of control.

But you weren't using it for it's purpose tonight. No, everything was completely under control here... you just needed her to come back home to stop you once you're done.

"Mother-" A sharp look made him quickly reconsider what he was about to say, a hand pressing against his chest whilst he bowed. "... we're on it." Lyney muttered, signaling Lynette to love with him, which she did after grabbing the bird cage. Their paths split at the stairs, the girl practically descending them two steps at a time, which got the attention of their fellow bretheren immideatly. "Everyone! Get into the attic or your rooms at once! Mother's orders, so get moving! Barricade your doors and don't open them up to anyone! This is an absolute emergency!" Everyone jumped when they heard the usually playful magicians voice bark out orders harshly, automatically getting the job done as everyone filed up the stairs to do as he said.

Lyney pushed through the crowd to continue looking for stray children who may not have heard him. His heart was racing against his ribcage, sweat dripping off his forehead he could only barely wipe off with a handkerchief he accidentally dropped when someone bumped into him. But your orders were clear in his mind and kept him steady. He knew that he and most, if not all, other kids of the house could take care of themselves just fine... but this was something beyond their means. Something usually only Father got to handle.

By the time he finally got back to his brothers room, you had left it behind, nowhere to be found, and yet the injured boy had a simple blanket covering his shivering form now, dressed in clean clothes and resting on perfectly white bedsheets. Lyney waited by the door, his hand gripping the handle tightly, as he listened to his sisters familiar steps running towards him. He let her in, eyes glancing around the dim hallway one more time before he tipped his hat down and shut the wooden entrance again.

The only sound heard for a moment after was the chirping of a bird in the dead of night until deafening silence filtered in once more.

---

The house of Hearth was never still and unmoving, not even in the darkest parts of the day. The late hours were the busiest, filled with agents and children alike walking in and out of it's doors under the cover of shadows to complete their given tasks and missions. The iron, bloody scent left behind by their previous endeavors, their hushed words to eachother as they passed by, the movement of paper being hidden under floorboards, some given to you with proud looks for approval, as you stayed up with them until the first rays of the sun danced in your eyes... it was never calm, never quiet. Yet the intruders didn't question it. They didn't even think twice to enter the house, the open birdcage. They mistook the silence and stillness for safety.

The first assasin stepped in through the picked lock of a backdoor entrance, his cautious eyes trying to catch any looming danger that may cause them trouble. Yet with nothing in sight, he waved over the rest of his three little friends right into your humble home. "Okay, you know the plan... kill as many of those little rats as you can." "And what about the Mother?" One of them asked, his hair clumsily hidden under a makeshift hood, a dirty grin on his lips in anticipation.

"Can I get rid of her? It won't be much of a struggle, I'm sure. She's just a measly housewife anyway." "Heard she's a pretty thing, though." A round of chuckles filled the kitchen before the first shrugged. "Do what you want. We just have to be done by dawn... let's split up in two groups, then. Just in case." The men agreed, one group making their way upwards, whilst the other searched the ground floors.

The darkness was inviting, the silence emitting a false sense of safety that made the intruders let their guards down, unaware of your form slinking after them. You were calm and collected, eyes dull, the dim moonlight not catching in them anymore. A mother's rage was a dangerous, unpredictable one. Filled with the need to make those who hurt her children suffer, she'd advance even through the most perilous paths for the sake of glory, revenge.

Unbeknownst to anyone, you had put two and two together a long time ago. These intruders, who belonged to a foreign enemy faction, were the cause of many of your children's deaths. They were the reason as to why you had to hear them cry out that odd wish so often. They had dared to enter your territory tonight to take away the rest of the family you had worked so hard for to have. You worked so hard to be a good mother. You bled, you cried, you slaughtered your way here. You became a "mother" one could be proud of. And on this fateful night, you'd prove your worth and pride to even Celestia above you with their screams that will reach far and wide. Your hand gripped a silver dagger, one originally gifted to you by your wife, as you blew out a lantern in one of the hallways, plunging everyone into further darkness that was far from warm.

It was ice cold.

---

"Wait outside." Arlecchino gave the Fatui agents a sharp, warning look, her clawed fingers tight around the Scythe as she entered the still, quiet building she called home. Her eyes glanced around carefully, noting immideatly that the danger that lurked in the dark was familiar. The bird on her shoulder chirped, reminding her of why she had come here in the first place. The meeting she had was cut short by it flying through the window, the call for help loud and clear. She had simply walked out then, her priority always having been you and the house, although it still made her wonder why exactly everything seemed so... unusually silent. Did Lyney and the other children deal with the threat already? If so... where were you?

Her keen ears picked up movement in the living room nearby, which made her calmly make her way over to it's entrance. With a raise of a brow, she stopped when she stepped into a puddle of blood. It seems like her suspicions were partially correct... althkugh who it was that took care of the intruders certainly came as a surprise.

"... You came." Your voice made the tension in her shoulders cease, eyes flickering to your form seated infront of the fireplace. The orange light cascaded across the dark room, the four mangled bodies laying at the bottom of your favorite lavish loveseat being a testament to your victory, and yet you remained still as a statue, back turned to her to observe the flames instead.

"You called." Arlecchino replied after taking in the situation, the sound of her heeled shoe echoing off the walls, as she approached you carefully. Her clawed hand grabbed onto your shoulder, head tilting to look at the side of your head. Your eyes were cold, not even the scorching warmth of the fire melting them. You were unreadable, hands bloody, and yet still so tightly gripping onto the dagger like your life depended on it. And despite that, you were still breathtaking to the woman.

"Are... you alright, my dove?" She asked, a genuine tone in her voice that was only ever reserved for you. The tears in your eyes burned when you finally looked up at her with a pained expression. You weren't like her. You couldn't just kill and be as proud as you hoped to be. You raised your hands towards her, bloody palms raised towards the gods the way they often were when you pleaded for help and forgiveness for the death of your children. You didn't need to say anything anymore, as she pressed a hand to your cheek with an acknowledging nod.

She wasn't good at comfort, nor did she ever try to be. A father didn't comfort his children in her eyes. No, a father simply led them to glory, and that's it. But that didn't mean that she was a bad wife, too. She sat down next to you, uncaring of the bloody mess that surrounded you, when she pulled you close to press your foreheads together. It was a way to silently show her support. She was there for you and understood you.

"I was scared... they hurt Freminet, and I couldn't fathom losing the rest-" "-I know. Thank you for your bravery, my dove. I'll take it from here." Her words were curt and short, and most would perhaps chalk it up to indifference. But when she held you close like this, gently rubbed your back and promised to take care of you only she knew how to, you found yourself being lulled back into the familiar comfort you were so used to. You knew that despite everything that happened, however, she could still not promise that this would never happen again. Your hands will always be stained crimson for as long as you were a Mother. There was no going back. There was no leaving the house.

But... you both were stuck in it together forever, weren't you?

Alrightttt... this took a while to finish, mainly due to work and me being sick again. But yeah, thank you again for the request, Anon, and I hope you liked this!!<33

[thebookbutterfly]

°•. BB’s Bookshelf .•°

An organised collection of fan fiction that I love and would recommend. A lot of hurt/comfort because it’s my favourite. I update this list regularly so keep an eye out for new stories. Feel free to browse and enjoy!

See what’s new here.

Take a look at my MASTERLIST here. :)

My requests are OPEN! So please contact me with your asks and ideas. I love hearing from you!

STRANGER THINGS:

🦋 Steve Harrington

��� Eddie Munson

🦋 Robin Buckley

🦋 Steddie

🦋 Billy Hargrove

CALL OF DUTY:

🦋 Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

🦋 König

🦋 Task Force 141

GAME OF THRONES:

🦋 Sandor Clegane

🦋 Tyrion Lannister

🦋 Brienne of Tarth

THE LAST OF US:

🦋 Joel Miller

THE MANDALORIAN:

🦋 Din Djarin

NARCOS:

🦋 Javier Peña

SUPERNATURAL:

🦋 Sam Winchester

🦋 Dean Winchester

🦋 Castiel

JOHN WICK:

🦋 John Wick

RED DEAD REDEMPTION:

🦋 Arthur Morgan

🦋 John Marston

BALDUR'S GATE 3:

🦋 Astarion Ancunín

🦋 Halsin Silverbough

🦋 Gale Dekarios

🦋 Wyll Ravengard

🦋 Karlach Cliffgate

THE WALKING DEAD:

🦋 Daryl Dixon

[bluelolblue]

In Sickness and In Health

Sumarry: Santino got hurt, has a bullet wound, and John, as his husband, is doing everything for him. Helping him with the wound, taking care of him, making him dinner, and breakfast in bed. Being the best husband. And Dog is there for Santino, too.

Rating: Mature/teen, hurt/comfort, fluff, just them being loving husbands

Relationship: Santino D'Antonio/John Wick

Note: I had to write something and post it, I HAD TO I can't take it anymore! I finally finished this (it's the WIP whenever), and there is NO smut for the first time!! This is actually wholesome, not horny :]. And Dog is there, too. Loving husbands Santino and John and I will write more about them being married. Oh and I made a little list of fics I want to write a while ago and this was there "Married John and Santino" but I can't find that post rn but it's here somewhere lol. I decided to post this here and on ao3. I hope yall will enjoy this! <3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The last few weeks have been extremely exhausting for both of them. Santino had a meeting after meeting, in different cities and even had to fly back to Italy for few days. While they were just meetings and business talk, there were few times when a squad was sent to kill them.

So, John had to take over. He succeeded in protecting Santino every time. Until this one time when Santino actually got hit, however it was just a flesh wound on his left arm, the bullet brushed off, luckily it wasn't anything serious.

But the wound cleaning still hurt.

"Take it easy... I told you to focus on breathing, okay?" John said as he cleaned the small bullet wound on Santino's arm. Santino was pale, unconsciously breathing a bit heavier from the pain and exhaustion. "I am. It's not like I got shot at." Santino huffed, glancing from his wound to John. "You're pale." John noticed, analyzing Santino's expressions. He can read his body language easily, Santino can't fool him.

"I'm tired and it hurts. Of course I'm gonna be pale." Santino rolled his eyes in annoyance. John thought it was cute. When Santino gets needy and bitchy with him, he doesn't mind it. He really tries to comfort him when he's like this, and his success in that depends on Santino's mood.

John hummed in a soft tone and pressed a kiss on his forhead. "I'm sorry it hurts." He murmured. Santino sighed, not in his usually annoyed way, but in a tired way this time. It breaks John's heart to see him like this, every time he's like this John tries to make him feel better by doing whatever Santino wants.

Not only Santino was exhausted from everything, he got a high temperature. A result of all this. John knew that could happen, he experienced it himself many times. He takes some painkillers and he's good for few hours. Now he has to see if that will work for Santino.

He just finished with wrapping a bandage over the wound when he felt Santino's forhead. "You got a fever, too." John pointed out. "Do you want me to bring you pills-" as John was about to offer some more, Santino cut him off. "I don't need anything. It'll pass just like always." He winced as he stood up so sudden, his arm still ached.

"Santino. I promised to take care of you. I vowed it. Remember?" Of course at their wedding they both vowed to protect and take care of each other till death tears them apart. It's such a beautiful memory. Of their wedding.

Santino's expression seemed to soften, he's aware that John just wants best for him and he is kinda, still, pushing that help away. He's not used to someone caring for him in that way, to be loved like this.

He's still learning. Trying to allow himself to be finally loved.

"Of course I remember." Santino murmured, "I remember it very well." He didn't look at him, too embarrassed because of his moody behavior. "Then let me take care of you." John said, getting in front of him and gently holding his shoulders.

Santino can't reject his husband. He's just too sweet and caring.

"Fine." Santino sighed, looking down before John gently pulled his chin up so they look at each other. "That's what I wanted to hear." John kissed his forhead, but he got quickly nudged down by his tie so Santino can kiss him.

"And I'd like a painkiller." Santino murmured. "Of course, darling." John smiled.

He loves this about John. His loyalty. It's beautiful. How are people even capable of being this loyal?

Assassin and a Crime lord. Bogeyman and Camorra prince.

Santino's gonna need something more than just one painkiller since he's not used to this. His body isn't. It's not even a big wound but it still hurt and felt uncomfortable.

John offered another pill that can help get the fever down, but he knows that won't be enough. It's been already twenty minutes since he finished treating Santino's arm and he's not looking like he got any better.

"Are the pills gonna start working soon or?" Santino asked as he leaned against the recliner and sighed heavily. "They will, just give it some more time. Do you need anything else? Hungry or do you need more water?" John asked, gently rubbing Santino's thigh in a comforting way.

"No..." Santino replied, closing his eyes. "You have to eat, though. Surely, there has to be something you'd like to eat now?" If he wants to regain some of his strength, he's gonna have to eat something. As far as John remembers, Santino only had coffee in the morning. That's it.

"I feel nauseous... I'll just shower and try to fall asleep." Santino was about to stand up when Dog trotted to him and wagged his tail as he whined at him. Santino smiled tiredly at him and patted his head, Dog leaned his head against his palm even more, looking right at him in a sympathizing way.

"Well... I think even Dog agrees that you should eat. You only had coffee in the morning, I don't understand how you can go through the whole day on just that. That's not good for you, for your health."

They had this talk before, "You can't live on one cup of coffee." The talk.

And he can't. Santino is aware of that. But, it's like he's refusing to help himself. So, John tries to do that for him. Try to let him know that he has to help himself and that it's okay to ask for help. Ask his husband for help.

"John, please, I just want to rest already-" However, John had to cut him off there. "I forgot to mention that I can smell cigarettes on you. As much as you try to cover it with mint or extra cologne, it's still there, the smell of smoke." Ah, so John caught him after all.

Stress awakens some unhealthy cravings in Santino. Smoking and drinking an extra glass of wine or whatever they have. However, smoking is the overpowering craving. Even before their marriage, Santino admitted that he wants to stop. And it was the first time he asked John for help.

The progress they made with that was pretty good. Yes, he was restless and in a horrible mood all the time because he needed it, but with John's help he managed to get that craving under control. John also praised him every time, "Good job. I'm proud of you." Followed by a kiss on his lips, cheek or forhead.

And now... that progress went backwards.

"I..." Santino started but couldn't find the words so quickly. He couldn't look at John. Couldn't look at his puppy eyes, his empathic eyes. He was too ashamed.

"I just had few. I needed to calm down after all those stupid meetings and calls with those old fuckers who think they can control everything when they want to..." just as Santino was talking about this, he himself probably didn't notice that his voice was getting more and more shaky and that he was slightly trembling.

"Hey, hey, darling... it's okay, don't upset yourself- I'm sorry I brought it up." John cupped his face, making Santino, finally, look at him. He could see how Santino's eyes were watery and it hurts him every time he sees tears in his eyes. Santino doesn't have to cry, doesn't have to let his tears fall, but he can have that exhausted, sad, fighting back tears look.

Santino took a deep breath in and exhaled heavily, placing his one hand on top of John's. "You don't have to apologize, mio caro. I'm sorry. All the progress we made... I ruined it all." Santino was keeping eye contact with him, meaning he really trusts him. To see him this vulnerable.

"I just wanted to feel better- ah..." Santino wanted to reach out for him with his wounded arm but because of a sudden movement, it hurt him and he winced. "I know, darling, I know." John murmured softly, pulling him into a gentle hug, avoiding his hurt arm and letting Santino cling onto his shirt.

"Take it easy. Our progress isn't ruined. You still want to stop, right?" John asked softly against his ear. Santino nodded slowly against his shoulder, "Yes. I want to stop." Santino whispered. "Good. I'm proud of you. Thank you for telling me." He went over Santino's hair with his fingers. That's something that Santino adores.

It feels so good to him, it relaxes him.

Santino pulled back enough to kiss him, as in saying "Thank you."

Dog jumped on the couch next to Santino, lied down and rested his head on his thigh. "Oh, bello..." Santino chuckled softly at him, patting his head and seeing how Dog wagged his tail. "Sei così carino, proprio come il tuo papà (you're so cute, just like your daddy)."

John had to chuckle at that, Santino often talks to Dog like that. Calling John and sometimes himself, "dad" or "daddy".

To be fair, this is literally Dog's family. Santino and John.

John pressed a kiss on Santino's head, making him laugh a little. It's a beautiful noise to John. To hear Santino laugh. He wants to make him happy.

"So... will you eat something for me and Dog? I can make whatever you want." John asked that again, caressing Santino's head, going over his fluffy hair.

Santino hummed softly before answering, "I can't say no to you two." Finally. He wants to help himself. That earned him two more kisses on his cheek.

Santino remembered how John makes perfect waffles. It's like John's specialty. "Can you make few waffles?" Santino asked, and he sounded so shy and innocent. "Of course I can. Anything for you, darling." John said.

It was getting a bit late, but no matter how late it gets, John will make those waffles for him.

While he was making them, he glanced at Santino and Dog, seeing g how Santino was patting, snuggling and murmuring something in Italian to Dog. It was cute to see them like that.

"Here you go, love." John said as he placed the plate with freshly warm waffles. "Thank you." Ah, they smell amazing and it was then when Santino realized that he's actually hungry. Of course, Dog started whining, begging just like always whenever they're eating. And it's John's fault he got used to it since he always secretly gives him a little piece of anything he's eating that's not sweet.

Santino's arm hurt each time he moved it, nerve and muscle damage most likely, and John offered to cut the waffles for him. It was a bit silly to Santino but he accepted his help. Watching TV and keeping Dog next to himself as Santino was finishing, he would glance from time to time at Santino and smile.

"You got a little bit of syrup on your face." John said. "Huh, where?" Santino asked, already trying to wipe it off with his thumb. "Let me." John leaned to kiss off the syrup that was on the edge of his mouth. "Here and..." another kiss but on lips, tasting the sweet maple syrup. "Here."

Santino could feel himself blushing, that was absolutely hot and cute at the same time. "Fuck..." Santino breathed out, looking down as he tried not to make it obvious how he was blushing. "You taste sweet like this." John winked playfully. "You're the reason I like maple syrup..." Santino said shyly. "I know." John said proudly. When John first time made pancakes with maple syrup, Santino was positivity suprised how good they tasted.

"I wanna shower now." Santino said as John went to put the plate into the sink. "Alright. Do you need help?" John asked.

"I, um... no, I think I'll be fine." Santino replied, sitting up and feeling his shoulder from his wounded arm. "Okay. If you need anything, I'll be in our bedroom."

And so John waited in the bedroom while Santino showered. Or tried to shower. The water getting over his wound was making it burn and since he still had a high fever, the water felt cold. "Cazzo." he would groan from time to time and what freaked him out was a little bit of blood mixed with water dripping down his arm.

"John. I think I need some help." He called out and just like a dog called to heel, John rushed to the bathroom. "Yes, darling?"

"It burns when the water gets on it..." Santino said, looking at his wound. "Alright, let me help you." John knows how to do this. "Shower with me, so you don't have to later." Santino smirked a little, whenever he gets a chance to flirt even just a little bit, he takes his chance. "Do you really need my help or you just want to see me naked?" John chuckled, already taking off his shirt. "Both." Santino replied, glancing him, his body. They both worship each other.

John was avoiding the wound as he carefully poured water over Santino's shoulders. Trying his best to not get much water on it. He's gonna have to disinfect the wound again, anyway. "Thank you, bello." Santino told him after few minutes. "Always, darling." John could feel how Santino's body was warm, hear him how he whimpered from time to time because his whole body was aching.

He's gonna give him a massage tomorrow, his body needs rest now.

After the shower, John helped him dry around the wound area, "I have to clean the wound again. Just a little, okay?" John said softly, watching how his husband tensed at that. "Okay."

Santino was patient, mostly because he's really tired and was ready to pass out in the bed. "Good job. You're handling this better and better." John praised him as he wrapped a new bandage over it. "Yeah. I'm just tired." John could tell just by his voice how exhausted he must be. "Alright. You need lots of rest." John said and pressed a soft kiss on his neck.

It took some time for Santino to fall asleep because he couldn't get comfortable. He would usually sleep on his left side so he faces John and now he couldn't. Dog also joined them, sleeping by their feet, mostly now on Santino's side as if he could feel that Santino wasn't doing the best.

John caressed Santino's waist, his hips as he tried to relaxe him as much as possible. And it worked. Santino finally fell asleep and John could relax now, too.

However, during night Santino would often sigh or whimper whenever he tried to move in his sleep. John would make soothing noises each time and kiss his head, "Shhh, you're okay, love." And it seemed to calm him down.

It was a little bit of a restless night, but when they have each other, everything seems easier.

John was the first one to wake up, just like always, but he was just chilling next to him, browsing on his phone as he waited for Santino to wake up.

An hour passed and Santino sighed as he switched to lie on his back. "Good morning, darling." John greeted with a kiss. "Morning." Santino replied tiredly, caressing John face and wanting more kisses.

"How are you feeling?" John asked. "Still tired. I think I don't have a fever anymore." He was right, when John felt his forhead, he wasn't warm like yesterday. "Yeah, it's gone. One problem less." He chuckled and held his hand in comfort. "You can still rest if you want to, honey." John offered. "No... I have to get up, I have a lot to do." Santino said and started to get up but John had other plans.

"No, I'll do everything you need. You still need rest." There was no point to argue because John wouldn't give up and it feels nice to not sit by the table and make calls and do contracts all day. "If you insist." Santino smiled tiredly. "I do." John replied.

Santino pulled him into a long kiss, cupping his face. He really needs rest and he has John who can help him with that.

"I love you." Santino said softly, gently stroking John's face and looking into his eyes. "I love you, too." John kissed him again, both humming softly into the kiss.

"Coffee like usual?" John asked after the kiss. "Yes, please." Santino smiled. Coffee is a must in the morning. "Any wishes for breakfast?" John asked. "Pancakes. But Europe ones." European style pancakes are his favorite for breakfast. "Of course."

John actually likes to serve him. So, this isn't a problem for him. Any chance he gets to do anything for him, he's doing it.

And now it was Dog and Santino again. Santino smiled and patted a spot next to him for Dog to come and he happily did. Snuggling against him, wagging his tail and licking his hand. "I know, bello, you're the cutest." Santino murmured to him, rubbing his chest as Dog lied on his back. Santino chuckled and continued to scratch Dog's belly and chest and Dog was loving it, panting happily and his tail never stopped wagging.

And then the face kisses Dog wanted to give him, "No, bello, we talked about this." Santino chuckled and tried to hold him off, but he managed to get licked a little. "My arm still hurts, you know." He smiled at him, scratching his head as Dog finally calmed down and was looking at him.

Dog whined and licked his hand as if in apology.

"Ah, so you two are cuddling, hm?" John brought breakfast to Santino in bed, this isn't the first time he has done it, and Santino loves it every time. "Yes, we are." Santino glanced from Dog to him. "Ah, they smell lovely. With chocolate spread?" Santino asked with a smile. "Your favorite." John replied.

He called Dog off the bed to give Santino peace while eating. "I love you so much, I thought we ran out of it." Santino said as John placed the platter in front of him. "I always make sure we have it." John ruffled through Santino's hair. "And coffee, of course, let me bring it."

He brought their coffee, placing one cup on the night stand next to Santino's side. "I could get used to this." Santino said as he took a bite of a pancake. "I don't have a problem with that." John said and sat next to him, enjoying his coffee. "How's your arm?" John asked softly, looking at the bandage and it seemed that the wound stopped bleeding. "Still hurts. But a little less than yesterday." Santino replied. "That's good. It'll pass eventually." John rubbed his thigh, seeing how Santino smiled at him.

He loves seeing him smile. He would kill anyone if it would make Santino smile.

Dog peeked over the bed and whined. "Ah, what did I do to deserve you two?" Santino smiled softly at Dog and John. "Do I deserve this?" Santino asked. "You deserve everything, darling. Everything." John said gently, kissing his cheek in comfort. "Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise. Because they will end up with a bullet in their head."

That got Santino laughing a little, which made John smile.

"I would kill for you. You know that." He means that every time he says it. "Yes, I know. And I would kill for you, too."

They are really ready to do anything for each other. Married, they are unstoppable.

Everyone will know about Santino and John Wick D'Antonio.

Note: Thank you all so much for the support! It means a lot, and I appreciate it! I love you all! 💙

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 26 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-The next day, he does not even try to ply you with the promise of release. He is not cruel, but he simply takes what he wants from your increasingly sore body, offering nothing in return. You almost prefer this, at this point, except he is absolutely running you ragged. You’d thought you could wear him out with your advantage of youth, but this man is fucking insatiable.

By the next day, you can’t stop yourself from begging, when he wakes you with insistent kisses on your neck and sweet nothings delivered with a growl in your ear. “John…I can’t,” you whine. “Please, I need a break.”

He dismisses this with a disbelieving snort, thinking you are crying wolf, no doubt. But when he flips you to fuck you from behind, something he’s grown increasingly fond of over the past few days, because he likes the shape of your ass, the tight angle—or that he doesn’t have to look into your accusing expression—you find yourself crying into the pillow.

It hurts.

You are bruised to the point where you cannot sit comfortably, and even with the impossible buckets of slick your body has somehow produced in his presence, he has rubbed you raw.  

And he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

This is the litany that runs through your mind, and it breaks your heart more than anything else he’s done to you so far. That he is so far gone in his madness that you hardly recognize him…

This is the thing that breaks you, and certainly not in the way he intended.

You start to cry even harder into the pillow, the wound in your heart far more devastating to you than anything physical. You feel it in your chest like you did take a blade or a bullet, an agonizing ache that makes you wish for numbness more than anything that has transpired. This is worse than the kidnapping, worse than him dangling you on the edge of pleasure for days on end.

This is the thing that will sap your will to live, and you can almost see the spiraling dark maw of the abyss that looms before you.

This is also the only thing for days that has given him the slightest pause. He drapes himself over you to gather you in his arms.

“Are you crying, baby girl?”  

“Yes,” you sniff.

You’ve pretty much taken everything he’s thrown at you until now with a lifted chin and a do your worst. Tears of despair actually seem to throw him.

“Why?”

“Because you’re hurting me, and you don’t care.” You know you sound as despondent as you feel. “The man I fell for protected me, he killed for me, but I never thought he would hurt me. Who even are you?” A new wave of anguish makes you sob into the pillow. It is not pretty crying, sweet glittering tears sliding down your cheeks. This is ugly crying, the expulsion of pain from the darkest depths of your soul, and once it starts you cannot stop.

He goes still as a statue behind you, ceasing even to breathe, the only motion the throb of his rock-hard cock still buried inside you. You do not know if you have displeased him, and he’s dreaming up some new punishment—or if just this once, he actually hears you.

You’re not exactly a religious person, but you find yourself praying to whatever laughing god that might take mercy on you, that he finally hears you.

He stays like this for what feels like an eternity, but can’t be more than a minute at most.

You are shocked, when carefully he slides out you, rolling to pull you against his chest, his big hand protectively cradling the side of your head, holding you hard enough to squeeze the breath from you. You realize, to your astonishment, he is shaking too, and he lets out a long, slow breath, pressing his lips to your hair.

This would have inspired excitement in you, if you weren’t so goddammed exhausted. Wrung out, body and soul. As it is, it takes all your control not to break down and weep again. He doesn’t say he’s sorry outright, but he holds you like he is. At this point, you’ll take what you can get amidst this madness you’re trapped in.

He kisses you again with a promise of, “I’ll be back,” and disappears into the bathroom. You hear the taps of the bathtub running. This too, you have learned to dread. But you cannot fight him, when he returns to scoop you up in his arms, and lowers the two of you together in the rising warm water.   

You wait for the usual shenanigans—but they do not come. He just…holds you, and you only keep yourself together by a thread. With a tremulous sigh of relief you dare to settle further into his arms, savoring this closeness without the threat of sex in the air.

“I’m sorry,” he says against the top of your head. “You just…you make me crazy.”

It’s perhaps the closest thing to the truth he’s said since you’ve gotten here.

“I’ll give you a rest,” he promises, and if you hadn’t been sitting you might have fallen over with surprise.

“Thank you,” you say, relieved to the tips of your toes, kissing him sweetly. It’s a gentle press of lips that curls your toes, and a strangled little sound escapes from somewhere deep in his chest.

You pretend not to see it, but there is a glitter of a tear in the corner of his eye too.

After a little while he kisses your cheek, saying again, “I’ll be back.”

You watch him exit the tub and cinch a towel around his narrow waist. Despite everything, you admit that you have yet to tire of the view. Water beading on that man’s skin is a thing to inspire the songs of angels.

Or demons, perhaps, but either way it is divine to behold.

You wait, but he doesn’t return.

You linger in the water until it begins to cool, wondering what he’s up to.

It is telling of what a cautious creature you’ve become, for the way you are reluctant to move from the place he left you. But your fingers are turning to prunes, so you get out of the bath, drying yourself off and slathering yourself with the wonderful smelling lotion he’d gifted you, that cost a whole day’s pay from your time at the coffee shop.

It is hard not to gauge the cost of things against hours of your life, when you work in service. What are your hours worth now? You realize you don’t even know what day it is.

For the first time in a while you take a moment to actually look at yourself in the mirror. Your body is riddled with constellations of love bites in various states of healing, bruises in every shade of the rainbow. John Wick has marked you in just about every way a man can, yet still, you hold out.

Perhaps it is you who is delusional about this situation.  

When you exit the bathroom you freeze in your tracks, hardly believing your eyes. The door—THE DOOR!—is hanging wide open, almost in invitation.

Rather than excitement, your first reaction is a thrill of fear running down your spine, as you wonder if it is a sick test.

But in the end, you cannot resist.

Wary of appearances, you throw on one of your numerous new silky nighties and a blue robe that is impossibly soft upon your skin. What mad woman would attempt to make an escape dressed like this? You hope the odds are in your favor. 

On soft feet you pad to the top of the stairs, peeking over the landing. The smell of fresh brewed coffee wafts up towards you, and the sound of something frying in the kitchen. Cautiously you descend, making your way towards the promise of culinary delights.

For the second time in ten minutes, the sight before you makes you freeze in your tracks.  

John is busy cooking in the kitchen, wearing a black kimono-style robe that gapes over his bare chest. He is very intently reading a recipe, whipping something in a bowl, and watching a sizzling hot pan.

You stand there, still as a statue, drinking in the sight until Dog blows your cover, trotting over to greet you with a wagging tail. You get down on your knees to hug him and scratch his ears. You have not seen him since your first escape attempt, and though you strangely hadn’t really doubted John would keep his word, you are relieved to receive proof of life.

“How does French toast sound?” John asks, as though today is a normal day in a string of normal days, and you live and eat together like two normal people who cohabitate.

“It sounds lovely,” you admit, cautiously perching on one of the barstools. “Can I help?”

“No, sweetheart, let me take care of you.” You wonder if this is more to keep you away from the potential weapon of a heavy, hot pan full of bacon and grease, but you are fine to sit and watch him.

You notice the knife block is completely emptied of blades.

When you are seated together in the breakfast nook, your legs tangled under the little table, dining off melamine plates with plastic utensils but enjoying a very good meal none the less, John throws you for yet another curveball.

“I’m sorry, that I’ve been so…insatiable,” he says. He could have knocked you off your stool with a feather. “I…” He shakes his head, clenching his fist on the table, the tendons in his forearm popping. “I just want you, so much.”

Your lip quivers at hearing that, and the truth spills from your lips before you can even think to hold it in. “I want to be wanted by you, John! It’s all I’ve wanted, since…the first moment I saw you.” If you’re being honest. “But all this…?” You wave your hands in an encompassing manner, unsure how else to express what he’s put you through.

It’s a lot, would be the understatement of the year. You’re not able to get it out though, because there’s a stone lodged in your throat, and suddenly you’re not sure if you want to cry or throw up.

Seeing you’re distressed again, he opens his arms to you. “C’mere.” It’s like walking into the claws of the dragon, you know, but you shuffle over to fall into his lap anyway. How insane is it, that this man is the flame that burns you, and the only balm that soothes you? He holds you tight against his chest, rocking you gently. You manage not to cry again, but you can’t stop shaking for a long time.

Only once you settle down does he speak again. “You are tough, you know that? I didn’t realize I was hurting you.”

You blink, unsure for a good minute what the fuck to say to that. The truth is that it is unfathomable, what savagery women can endure, when they have to. You’re not sure you want to say that aloud to him.

It might come off as a challenge.

You are hardly winning any trophies for fastest comeback, when finally you quip into his collarbone, “You forgot you’re dealing with a junior blackbelt. We are trained in the ways…”

He looks down at you for a long second, as though he’s not sure if you’re joking or not. And then it is like the sun breaking from the clouds when he smiles, a genuine, toothy flash of mirth that mercilessly squeezes your heart in your chest. He looks almost boyish in that moment, and it is beautiful to behold.

“So I forgot,” he admits, kissing your forehead. 

“I guess you’re like…50th dan or some shit?” you ask, referring to his own belt ranking.

He chuckles at that, though there is a note of melancholy beneath it. “We don’t count dan where I trained, sweetheart. Just bodies on the ground.”

“That’s a lovely thought over breakfast…”

He snorts. “You remind me of me, you know, when I was younger,” he tells you quietly.

“How so?” you ask, thinking you’re not that tough.

“Too stubborn for my own good.” He smiles again, softer this time, but no less heartbreaking. He is not making fun of you. It is almost like he’s…commiserating with you, and it’s weird as hell. “I’ll give you a week to heal. Alright?”

You didn’t expect him to give you an hour, much less a week. “Okay…”

“Ok, what?” he prompts with a smirk, that breathtaking twinkle in his eye that makes you want to throttle him and kiss him all at once.

You can hardly refrain from rolling your eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Wick.”

He sighs at hearing it, like a sated lion.

You wonder if he’ll keep his word.