#john wick x original female character

[teejaywyatt1]

✨Chapter 43 of Skyline will drop on Thursday, March 14th at 2:30PM EST.✨

[orienteddreamerrr]

Lara Gets Saved By John Wick…

(Using my OC for this one…hope you don’t mind!)

(MOVIE FRANCHISE: “JOHN WICK”)

(Made in 3rd person!)

(Long!)

(John Wick x Female OC)

Rating: PG-13 for…Some gun violence, brief action, but really fluffy towards the end!

John Wick knew this had to be his last job, given the circumstances of wanting to retire. Every job he took ended up being more brutal than the last. But this certain job he took has to be the most brutal yet. Driving in his Mustang sports car, he’s on his way to London, where a mob gang is currently on the rise—trading off goods and weapons. Just as he arrived upon this manor-like hotel, his phone starts ringing beside him. He quickly reaches over to grab the phone and answers it. “I see you made it to London…”, It was the Don, the man who hired him for this job on the line. He had spoken those words into the phone, making John sigh slightly. “Yeah…what’s their intel?”, John had asked as he stepped out of his car. “Well, this British mob is just doing their usuals, taking what they want, taking what they need…but they’ve kidnapped someone in the mix…”, John stops in his walking into hearing what Don just said. “Who?”, “This woman…she’s a tourist…her name is Lara I believe…Lara Marleen…”, “Alright…I’ll be on my way…”, “Happy Hunting, Mr. Wick…”, John closes the call, tucking his phone into his suit pocket. Knowing where some mob scouts might be secretly hiding, he goes down this alleyway that’s nearby, taking a small shortcut. He comes upon this area in the alleyway, seeing there were these two parked white vans. One guy standing near the van took notice of John’s presence as his eyes widened in fear. “He’s here! He’s here you guys! Get the guns!”, He calls out, having the other men who were standing around quickly scatter about to the back of their vans to grab their weapons. One tries to fire upon John, but he was able to dodge and shoot him back, quickly pulling out his handy handgun, making him fall limp to the ground. Two guys ran up to John, trying to hit on him, but John evaded those punches, giving some punches of his own before kicking both of them in the legs and shooting them down. There was one more guy left, who tries to fire willingly towards John. He takes cover behind the white van as he tries to fire back. He looks over to see the guy running from his hiding spot. He aims his gun out at him, shooting him in the leg. The guy falls to the ground, shouting in pain. John quickly stands as he goes over to him, kneeling down as he forces him over and pulls him by the collar of his hoodie. “Where is she?”, “I don’t know who you’re talkin’ about man!”, John uses his gun to fire a bullet near his head, serving it as a threat to kill him as the guy flinches in reaction. “Alright! Okay! She’s at the estate building! Near the Central Bank!”, John only sighs to himself as he stands to his feet and shoots him, killing him instantly as he goes limp. John may have an idea on where that estate building is!

He goes over to one of the vans, hopping in as he takes the keys sitting in the cupholder and turns on the ignition. He makes his way to the estate building, seeing there were a good number of guards standing by the entrance. He eventually parks the van, hopping out as he goes towards the back to open it, finding a lot of weapons. He grabs the biggest gun there is, which was a rifle-like shot gun, slinging that onto his back as takes some usual handguns, shoving them into his waistband. Once he thought he had enough weapons, he strides his way to the entrance, grabbing those goons’ attention. All of them started firing at him, initiating a shootout. John takes cover behind this pillar, loading up his first handgun. He leans over, taking a few out before quickly running to a new hiding spot, dodging a few bullets along the way. He slings off his big rifle-like shotgun, loading in some bullets. He leans over, shooting and taking out the rest. Once there was silence, he tosses the rifle-like shotgun to the side before reloading his other handguns he had on him, making his way inside the building. Weirdly, there weren’t any goons guarding the lobby and nobody around! John rushes up a flight of stairs, kicking down this door as he aims out his handgun in front of him. One goon who was waiting on the side for him attempts to ambush him, swiping him with his pocketknife. But John was quick to dodge that as he kicks and punches him to the floor. He was then able to shoot him down, having him go limp. John continues exploring the floor he is on, having this gut feeling that Lara might be here. He came upon this hallway, hiding behind the corner of the wall as he looks over to see a door that was heavily guarded by two tough looking guys. John quickly thinks of a way on how to get rid of them. He pats on his pockets to feel two smoke bombs on him. Apparently, he forgot he packed those! He takes them, throwing them towards the guards as the bombs started spewing out smoke, with the guards coughing in reaction. John loads up his handgun as he turns and shoots both of them down. He kicks open the door they were guarding as he sweeps that room before coming upon another locked door. He fires his gun upon the locked doorknob, kicking it open. In the middle of the room sits a woman, tied up with ropes. John shoves his gun into his waistband as he goes over to untie her. He takes off the blindfold she’s wearing as the woman looks to see her savior. “You’re Lara, right?”, John asked, untying the ropes around her legs. “Um…yeah…”, John was able to untie all the ropes as Lara stands up, backing away slightly. “Y-you…you’re him! I’ve heard rumors about you…”, John nods, smirking faintly. “I get that a lot…”, Lara smirks back, taking a look at her surroundings. John takes one of his handguns, grasping it by the tip as he gestures it to Lara. “Do you know how to shoot?”, Lara looks to the gun, feeling a swell of anxiety. She was able to take it from him as she examined the gun in her hands. “I guess so…”, John only nods as he walks out of the room with Lara following after. Coming back upon the lobby area, John sees that it’s full of goons. He takes cover behind this big pillar with Lara taking cover as well beside him. “You ready?”, John had asked, seeing Lara only respond with a nod.

John then leans over and takes a few shots, instantly taking out a few of them. Lara leans over, taking aim at one, but before she could fire a shot, one goon fires back, making Lara hide back behind the pillar. “I can’t!”, John looks over, seeing Lara was getting more anxious than before. He leans over again, taking out a few. He quickly grabs Lara’s hand as they run to a new hiding spot. John takes his handgun to reload it as he takes Lara’s hand to squeeze if firmly. “I promise I’ll get you out of here…just stay close, okay?”, Lara swallows nervously as she nods, tightening her grip on the gun handle. John nods back as he lets go of her, leaning over to take out a few more, along with the goons firing back. Lara took a moment before leaning over, quickly taking out a few as well. “Good, you’re doing great…”, John says those words to Lara, making her smile slightly. After the lobby was cleared of those goons, John grabs onto Lara’s hand again as they both try to leave the building, only to hear a gunshot ring in the background. John flinches slightly at the sound, looking to himself to see he wasn’t hit. But he quickly turns to Lara, seeing her face morph into shock and discomfort. John only takes one look to where she was holding onto her side, seeing blood was slowly seeping through her fingers. “Damn it! She got hit!”, A thought rushes through his mind. Lara staggers to the floor, but John was there to catch her in time before she did. John lays her gently against the wall, out of harm’s way as he quickly stands, looking to see the shooter standing there at the top of the staircase lobby. He raises his gun to shoot again as John takes cover behind this pillar. “Don’t do this to yourself John! It’ll only make things worse!”, the gunman had spoken out. John reloads his gun again as he leans over and tries to fire towards him, but the gunman was quick to fire back, as John leaves from his hiding spot, running over to this counter for more coverage. He peers over, seeing the gunman was only hiding behind this pillar. Without the gunman looking, John quietly moves over to the pillar to the catch him by surprise. He tackles the gunman to the ground as he struggles to take the gun from him. The gunman tries to fire upon him as John was able to rip the gun from the gunman, flinging it across the lobby. They both still continue to struggle, as the gunman now topples onto John, attempting to choke on him. Lara was seeing this unfold as her eyes wander about, developing this sudden sense that she should intervene. She looks beside her to see her gun that John gave her as she reaches over to grab it. “Mister Wick!”, Lara calls out with John looking over briefly to see a gun sliding towards him. He was able to grab it as he used his weight to topple himself back onto the gunman, firing two bullets into his skull. John catches his breath before standing, walking over to Lara as he nods to her. “Thanks…”, Lara smiles to him, nodding back. “You’re welcome…”, John shoves the gun into his waistband as he helps Lara to her feet. “Let’s get you to a hospital…”, John was able to walk her outside and take an unoccupied car nearby, driving Lara to the hospital.

*TIMESKIP*

Lara walks out of the hospital, back to being in good condition as well as being patched up, with her side wrapped up in gauze. Being stuck in the hospital for two weeks took a small toll on her, but she felt relieved that she was able to leave with no complications. She looks around to see a familiar car waiting on the side of the walkway. There stands John Wick, leaning against his car, patiently waiting. Lara smiles at his presence as she walks over to him, having John look over to see her walking towards him. Once she stood in front of him, her smile turns shyly. “I wanna thank you…for saving me, Mister Wick…”, John only shakes his head. “You don’t have to thank me…I’m just doing what I need to do…”, Lara’s smile widens a little. “Still…I have to owe you something!”, “No need…”, Lara only nods as she quickly goes up to him, wrapping her arms around John’s neck, with his body stiffening up slightly. He was stiff for a few moments as he was able to relax. The thought of his wife and how she would had hugged him rushed through his mind as he was able to hug her back around her middle. The hug was brief as Lara releases herself from him, seeing John’s small faint smile. Lara steps back as she pretends to clear her throat, feeling embarrassment shoot up throughout her body. John gestures to his car behind him. “At least let me get you back home…I can pay…”, Lara’s eyes widened at what he said. “Umm…okay! Thanks!”, John nods to her as he goes over to open the passenger door, with Lara sitting herself into the car. John closes the door, going over to the driver’s side as he hops in after and starts up the engine. Lara was able to return home with no difficult or hiccup, with John feeling satisfied of completing yet another mission. Saving a life. John now stands there, staring out of this big window to see the plane Lara had boarded on start to leave and lift off the runway, back to America. John sighs to himself as he leaves out of the airport, making his own way across the country of London, heading into the unknown, heading into his next mission!

The End!❤️

Leave a like if you did…I tried my best with this as I know John’s the type of guy that follows a motto of “Actions speak louder than words”! Lol…and yes, I watched all 4 movies, and I loved them!

✌️😊✌️

[80siconic]

CHAPTER I - EYE FOR AN EYE.

content warning(s): mentions of abuse.

chapter one

"an eye for an eye, a life for a life. i'll see you in hell, on the other side."

eye for an eye by rina sawayama.

January, 2022

ANIKA DUPONT had enough of her parents. That much was obvious. There wasn't one final straw. It was all a final straw. Anika was a trophy. A prize to be looked at. Valerie Dupont cursed at her whenever she didn't do anything right. All Anika did was please them which of course, wasn't enough. Maurice Dupont couldn't have given a shit about Anika's mental health. It was like this since she was a child. Anika didn't have a childhood. She didn't have a normal one anyway. As Anika Dupont grew up, she slowly realized that her parents were liars and cheats. They abused her emotionally and mentally until she was nothing but a bug under their shoe. A piece of glass they could break whenever they wanted to. Anika was strong enough not to cry. No matter how much she wanted to. To her parents, sadness was a weakness. There wasn't time for sadness in the Dupont family according to Valerie and Maurice.

Anika Dupont needed a plan. She had a plan to expose them. Anika wanted to expose them to everyone in Paris. Most importantly, those at the High Table. They had the High Table thinking they were decent people. They lied to get on the High Tables good side. Yes, the High Table was probably just as crooked, but they could kill her parents if they wanted to. They could put an Excommunicado on their heads and they'd be done for. The best part was, Anika would be left alone. She was the victim. Valerie and Maurice had betrayed her and she'd prove that to the High Table too. Anika Dupont would make the Dupont's name great again. Without the complete and utter lies. Her parents had dirtied their good name, and she needed to make it clean.

Anika needed to contact the Marquis de Gramont. Anika knew he worked under the High Table. She knew that he was an assassin for the High Table previously. This was before he earned his rightful place as the Marquis. The Marquis had always been well known in the assassin business. She had heard that his childhood wasn't exactly the best (it was nice that they had something in common) and Anika didn't know much about his parents. All she knew now was that they were dead and had been for a long time. Anika needed his help to take down her parents. There was no way she could do it without help. Plus, seeing as he worked for the High Table, he proved to be a wonderful asset.

Anika knew him to be quite the brutal killer. He knew what he was doing. He knew how to do his job very well. The only problem was, she didn't know how to reach him. The only thing she needed to figure out was how to get in contact with him. Part of her wanted to find out from her parents, but then she thought of something else. The Harbinger. Anika knew Harbinger worked for the Marquis. The best part was that she knew how to get in contact with him. If she could get in contact with The Harbinger, she could get in contact with the Marquis.

This Continental in Paris was lavish, and in simple words, fancy. Anika didn't feel like she belonged. First off, she wasn't an assassin. Second, they knew she was the Dupont's daughter. But she wasn't in danger here. If anything, she was welcomed there. It still put her on edge though. As she approached the concierge, Anika stuck her hand in her dark red coat pocket and pulled out a gold coin. It wasn't just the usual gold coin you handed out as payment. It was specifically for The Harbinger. The coin had two shot guns in the form of an X, with a knife in the middle of them. Anika had snuck into her father's office and unlocked his desk drawer for it. He had enough. He wasn't going to miss one. "Bonjour."

Placing it on the marble counter, the concierge looked up at Anika with a simple eyebrow raise as she took a glance at the coin. "Bonjour. Welcome to the Paris Continental. How may I help you today?"

Anika cleared her throat, sliding the coin closer to the woman. She gave the woman a blank look as she answered. "Is he in?"

The concierge slid the coin off the counter with a curt nod. "Oui, Mademoiselle Dupont. Let me take you to his office."

The woman walked out from behind the counter and Anika followed behind her. Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she kept in time with the concierge's footsteps. The walk seemed to go on forever. The elevator stopped at the bottom floor of the Continental. In the basement to be more specific. The floor was dark and dingy. Anika realized it was somewhat creepy too. As the woman led her to a door, she turned to face Anika. "I must warn you, he's a man of few words. He might not give you the answers you want."

Anika cleared her throat. She nodded towards the door. "I understand. I don't need many answers. Just one."

The woman sighed and nodded. As she opened the door, she held it open for Anika. "Anika Dupont for you, sir."

Anika heard his deep voice from the room. "Let her in, please."

She nodded, looking back at Anika. "Please, go on in."

Anika slowly walked into the room and approached the man. She had never seen his face before, but he didn't look intimidating, per say. Just very, very wise with age. There was a large scar on the left side of his face, his hair was completely gray. And he was missing his ring finger. Interesting. Anika heard the door shut behind her. The Harbinger gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "You can sit."

Anika quickly took a seat in front of his desk and crossed her one leg over the other. She got straight to the point. "Do you still work for the Marquis?"

The Harbinger moved forward in his seat, putting his arms on the table. "Last I checked, yes."

Anika sat up straight with a small nod. "I need to meet with him. I know he's a busy man and I know he probably wouldn't want to meet with someone like me—"

Anika paused as The Harbinger held up his hand. He spoke after her. "You are a Dupont, Anika. Of course, he wouldn't want to meet with somebody like you."

Anika scoffed. "I am nothing like my family. My parents are awful people, and they aren't as perfect as everyone sees them. I'm sure you know this. They've used me for their own gain. I am a mascot for my parents. They used the innocence of my youth to show everybody of the world how "perfect" of a family we are. I noticed it too late, but I still noticed it and I'm done. They don't even see me as a daughter. All they see me as is a pawn in their game. You can tell him that."

The Harbinger just looked at her. He studied her for a few moments. He could sense real anger when he heard it. She was one angry woman. "What do you need, Miss Dupont?"

"I need to speak to him. I need his help to expose my parents for who they are. I've had enough of being under their thumb." Anika sighed angrily. "I don't know how to get in contact with him, so I thought I'd go to you. It's easier to meet with you than it is to meet with him."

The Harbinger nodded. "I see." He thought for a moment. "I'll see what I can do. I can't promise you anything, but I know that he despises your parents. He'd want to see them ruined." The Harbinger tapped the table a few times before speaking again. "I'll contact you in a few days with an update."

Anika was relived. She gave him a small smile. "Merci. Thank you."

Anika stood up from her seat and as she turned to leave, The Harbinger spoke. "If you ever need my help with this, I'll gladly oblige. You're not the only one who hates your parents."

Anika put her hand on the door handle and walked out. After she closed the door behind her, she smiled to herself as she walked to the elevators. This was going perfectly so far.

___________

                THE days went by slowly as Anika Dupont waited for a call or a message from The Harbinger. Anything. She was getting impatient with how long it was taking but she told herself she'd get something soon. The voice of her mother echoed in the hallways as she called for Anika. "There's a letter for you down here, Anika! Come open it before I open it for you."

Anika sneered at the voice of her mother, but she made her way downstairs as quickly as possible. Anika approached her mother who held the letter out for her. As she was about to take it, her mother yanked it away. "Who is this from?"

Anika had been deceiving her mother for as long as she could remember. She knew she could act as innocent as she wanted to. Anika shrugged. "I'm not sure, mother. It could be from anyone."

Valerie Dupont held the letter back to her and Anika took it. "Fine."

"Thank you, mother." Anika took the letter and she turned to leave. Anika ripped the letter open with her nail as she walked up the stairs, quickly wanting to read the contents inside of it. As she made it to the door of her room, she unfolded the letter and started reading.

Miss. Dupont.

He'll meet with you. In an hour. At The Louvre. Don't be late. He isn't fond of tardiness.

Good luck.

Sincerely, The Harbinger.

Anika looked up from the letter and quickly entered her room. She was in comfy sweats and she was going to The Louvre to meet the Marquis. She wasn't going to be dressed the way she was now. Anika just hoped her parents wouldn't question her too much before she left. The outfit she wore wasn't extravagant. It was just a simple white turtleneck and plain black pants. It was wintertime in Paris, and she didn't feel like freezing.

Anika stuffed the letter in her dark red jacket pocket as she put it over her arm. She couldn't hear her parents, but she wasn't afraid of them anymore. She was a 26-year-old woman, and she could do what she pleased. She wasn't going to be jailed by them any longer. Anika walked downstairs, towards the front door as she put on her coat, gloves and scarf. Including her shoes. Anika left the house and told her driver to bring the car around without warning her parents. He obliged and left.

Anika looked out the window as the car drove on the road. Paris was quite beautiful during the winter with all the snow. It felt like a complete fairy tale for her. For years, Valerie Dupont said the snow was ugly, but Anika thought the opposite. It was lovely. The last time Anika visited the Louvre was the month before for a charity auction with her parents. Another event where they could show her off which meant she didn't have a chance to look around. She was at her mother and father's side all night. Speaking of which, it was the first time she laid eyes the Marquis de Gramont. She couldn't talk to him, of course, but she knew who he was. He was the star of the show with his outrages but dazzling sparkling suit.

The car stopped in front of the entrance of the Louvre. The museum was closed which was why it was the perfect meeting place. This was the Marquis. If he wanted to have the Louvre to himself for the day, he could. Anika looked at the driver. "Je ne devrais pas être plus d'une heure. Sortez déjeuner en attendant, si vous le souhaitez. Je suis sûr que je n'aurai pas besoin d'un chauffeur d'escapade." (I shouldn't be more than an hour. Go out for lunch in the meantime, if you'd like. I'm sure I won't need a getaway driver.)

The driver gave her a nod. "Merci, Mademoiselle."

Anika sent him a small smile as she stepped out of the car. She heard the car drive away behind her as she walked towards the entrance of the museum. There were guards in gray suits standing in front of the door, with pins on their lapels. These were pins that the Marquis' bodyguards all had, including him. Her blonde hair blew in her face as she walked towards them. She really needed to get a haircut. Before she could get a word in, one of the guards held up his hand for which she stopped. "I'm sorry but the Louvre is closed today, miss."

Anika breathed out through her nose, quite amused. "I'm here to meet with the Marquis de Gramont. He's expecting me and I know for a fact that he doesn't like when people are late. I'm sure you don't want me to tell him that you were the only who made me late, do you? I even have a letter from the Harbinger if you need more proof of my words." She raised a brow.

The guard looked at her with a blank look on his face. He was about to open his mouth to speak before someone else spoke up behind her. "Is there a problem here?"

Anika turned around and it was yet another guard. This one looked more important with the way he held himself though. "I'm Anika Dupont. Your guard here won't let me in."

"My apologies, Mademoiselle." He surprisingly gave her a small smile. "I'm the Marquis Second-In-Command. He is expecting you." Chidi looked over at the guard behind her with a frown, his voice harsh. "Move out of the way."

The guard nodded. "Sorry, sir. I didn't know." The guard opened the door for her. Chidi stepped in front first and walked inside.

Anika smiled at the guard. "Thank you."

Anika followed beside the Second-In-Command as he led her to the Marquis. Anika couldn't help but look around at the beauty in front of her. The paintings were grand, and she immediately fell in love with the place. The museum was wide with windows where you could see outside. The natural light made it even more beautiful in a way. As they turned a corner, Anika spotted who she'd been wanting to see for the past couple of days in all his glory. He sat on a couch, exuding with power and riches. His stark black suit completely popped more with the white couch he was sitting on. The Marquis studied the painting in front of him and what really stood out to her was the ring on his finger.

Anika prepared herself to be completely shooed off when she got there. A woman wanting to get revenge on her parents and wanting his help seemed like something he'd be used to. He'd probably be over it by now. Anika wasn't nervous. She was anything but nervous. She was excited instead. Letting in a small breath, Anika and Chidi had stopped in front of him. It was completely silent for a moment before he spoke with such ease without looking at her.

His accent hit her ears. He didn't seem too happy about her presence. "I never really paid attention to the details of a painting when I was younger. In fact, I simply didn't care much for them. Now, as I'm older, I realize how simply foolish that was. Paintings hold many details. They show how an artist was feeling at the time of the creation. I know it sounds silly but it's true." For the first time, the Marquis looked at her. "What do you think?'

Anika looked at him for a few seconds with curiosity before looking at the painting in front of her. She turned to get a better look at it, facing towards it. "It's colourful, but there are some dark parts to it. Is there an emotion that is between both happy and sad? I'd say that's what this painting looks like. But then again, I've never been much of an art expert."

The Marquis hummed. "No. Neither have I." He titled his head as he looked at her with curiosity as she gazed at the painting. "How can I help you, Mademoiselle Dupont?"

Anika turned around to face him. "Harbinger didn't tell you?"

He almost chuckled at her question. "I would prefer to hear it from you." The Marquis gazed at her with curiosity. He nodded at the spot beside him. "Sit, please."

Anika slowly walked towards the couch and sat beside him. Anika couldn't help but watch him encase he did anything she didn't like. He scooted over more so she had space. "I assume you're familiar with my parents?"

The Marquis nodded, glaring at the painting in front of him. Of course, he knew her parents. He hated them with everything he had. "Of course, I am." He scoffed with anger. "How could I not be?"

Anika turned her head to look at him with her brow raised in question. "What do you mean?"

The Marquis thought for a minute before answering her. "Your parents have tried to take my spot as Marquis many, many times. Way too many times. They almost succeeded once too." He looked at Anika and her blonde hair and noticed how perfect it was. Anika Dupont was a respectful woman, he could tell. He could also tell that she was nothing like her family. The Harbinger was correct. "My Harbinger tells me you're different from your parents. How is that, exactly?"

Anika sighed, shaking her head. "It's a long story."

The Marquis tilted his head to the side. "We have time. Tell me."

Anika looked towards him. That wasn't a question and more of a demand. Anika looked back at the painting in front of her with a scoff. "Ever since I was younger, they've only ever saw me as one thing. Someone they could shape and mold to the epitome of perfection. I wasn't even a human to them. I was more of something they could show off to prove how perfect they were when we are anything but that. Essentially, they've used me for their own gain. Treated me like I was nothing. Between the emotional and physical abuse, I couldn't do it anymore." She now glared at the painting in front of her. "I can't do it anymore."

The Marquis studied her as she looked towards him. "I have had enough of being used by them. It ends here and now. You're going to help me."

The Marquis looked at her once more and snapped his fingers. The guards cleared away quickly, walking away from the two of them. Anika looked around as they left. He really said jump, and they said how high. He leaned forward with his hands folded in front of him. He looked up at the painting as he addressed her. "Hm, I understand your frustration. Would you like to know something?"

Anika nodded as she stared at him. The Marquis smirked at her which surprised her. That was probably as close to a smile as she'd ever get from him. He looked pleased, in a way? Which was a good thing. At least he wasn't angry at her boldness. The Marquis chuckled quietly and shook his head. "Most people beg on their knees for my help, but you demand it instead. I like that very much."

Anika smirked at him. "Well, I am not most people."

The Marquis hummed. "What would you like me to do for you, Mademoiselle?"

"I need you to help me make the plan. To expose them. They even fooled the High Table into thinking they are good and decent people." Anika's voice turned into anger. "I want the world to know about what they did to me. And when the world finds out, I am going to kill them. And I will make the Dupont family name into something better. Into something people can look up to for help. I will erase everything that my parents have done. Then, their names will be forgotten."

The Marquis applauded her for that. She seemed like a strong woman and her cause sounded very convincing. Anika Dupont knew what she wanted, and he liked that. A lot. "I'll help you. I despise your parents just like you do. Where exactly would you like to start?"

Anika cleared her throat. "I'll still play the dutiful and loving daughter that they want me to be." As much as she hated doing so, she'd do it for the cause. "I can spy on them and bring as many updates to you as I can. I wish to expose everything. You're a powerful man, Marquis. I know this too be true. Everybody is afraid of you, and you seem like you would know how to plan something like this."

"If I have the right information to do so. Yes." He thought for a moment. "I have people who will help us. The Harbinger for one. He already said he would do anything he could." The Marquis had one question on his mind. "When do you plan on doing this?"

"There is a New Years Eve party we plan every year. Usually everybody is there." The Dupont's like to show off. A lot. "And I mean everybody. Even members of the High Table will be there. So, we'll do it there. It is always broadcasted every year because they like to boast. It would be perfect." Anika sighed.

The Marquis nodded in agreement. She seemed to have everything figured out. "I will keep in contact with you, Mademoiselle Dupont. I will have Harbinger send you letters because if they come front me, people will get interested. They'll stick their nose in business that doesn't concern them. That isn't something you or I want." Anika knew what that meant. It probably meant he'd have to kill people if they found out. For him and her. And no one could do anything about it. "We'll meet at the end of every week. Say, Friday's? How much are you involved in what your parents do?"

"Everything. They drag me to every meeting. To every function. Trust me, they still need me to be as perfect as always." Anika clenched her jaw.

"How long has this happened for, Mademoiselle Dupont? From what age?" The Marquis looked at her with interest. He wanted to know everything that has happened, he wanted to know everything about her. Everything.

"No younger then 9. Maybe 10." Anika lowered her brows in sadness. "They have taken everything that I have ever loved and they've taken advantage of me. Sometimes I hate how naive and innocent I was but I'm done with that now. I am not going to be the perfect little girl anymore. I'm going rouge."

The Marquis was excited. The definition of the word. He could tell she was going to be powerful. And maybe he could be powerful along side her. They'd be unstoppable. "I am glad you came to me with this, and not anyone else. I'm very glad we want the same thing."

Anika's phone rung and it echoed through the empty museum. "It's my mother." Anika bit her lip, answering the phone as she stood up from the couch. "Oui?"

"Où es-tu, Anika?" (Where are you, Anika?) Valerie Dupont demanded an answer from the other side.

Anika looked at the Marquis who could obviously hear her mother. The harshness coming from the woman's voice made him angry, annoyed. He stood up beside her. He held out his hand, gesturing to the phone, whispering. "Give it to me."

Anika rapidly shook her head, no. She had to respond before her mother got even more upset. Anika felt a hand on her arm. The Marquis looked at her with a blank stare. His voice still quiet. "Trust me."

Anika looked at him and to the phone at her ear and back to him. She held the phone out for him and he took it from her, placing it to his ear. "Bonjour."

There was a pause on the other side. "Qui est-ce?" (Who is this?)

The Marquis cleared his throat. He put a hand on his hip, standing up straight. "Le Marquis de Gramont, madame. Je suis désolé de vous avoir enlevé votre fille ce soir, Madame. Je l'ai simplement invitée à déjeuner. Nous appellerons son chauffeur pour qu'il vienne la chercher. Encore une fois, je m'excuse." (The Marquis de Gramont, ma'am. I am sorry to have taken your daughter away from you this evening. I simply invited her out for lunch. We shall call her driver to pick her up. Again, I apologize.)

This seemed to have stunned her mother. The Marquis taking her daughter out to lunch? Valerie Dupont didn't expect this. "Erm, C'est bien, Marquis. Merci de me l'avoir dit. Et dis à ma fille que je l'attends quand elle rentrera à la maison. Merci. Et s'il vous plaît, ne vous excusez pas. Si c'était quelqu'un d'autre, je ne l'aurais pas permis mais je peux faire une exception." (That is alright, Marquis. Thank you for letting me know. And tell my daughter I will be expecting her when she gets home. Thank you. And please, do not apologize. If it was anyone else, I would not have allowed it but I can make an exception.)

The Marquis almost scoffed but held back. "Bien sûr. Au revoir, Madame." (Of course. Goodbye, Madame.)

He hung up the phone and handed it back to her. Anika took it and looked at it for a moment before looking at the Marquis. "Thank you. I'm sure she would have wrung my neck if it wasn't for you." She paused for a moment. "I really must go. My mother gets impatient if I am late. Like you, in a way. But more frightening."

The Marquis gave her a small smile. "Nonsense. The sound of shock in your mother's voice was pleasing to hear. Let me put my number in your phone, yes?"

"Oh, uh, sure." Anika handed him her phone with a small smile.

After a few moments of typing in this number, he handed it back to her. "Until next week, Anika. I will have Chidi escort you out of the building." He held out his hand. "I look forward to seeing you again."

Anika took his hand and shook it. He then placed a small kiss on the back of her hand. The action made her cheeks hot. "Should I message you with information?"

The Marquis thought for a few moments. "We will wait until the end of the week. If you need anything at all, contact me immediately. I've put Harbinger in your contacts as well. For emergency circumstances."

Anika nodded and gave him a smile. As Chidi approached her, he gestured for her to go first. Anika nodded her head as a goodbye to the Marquis. Chidi walked towards his boss who was looking at the painting with his hands on his hips. "Make sure she gets in her car safely, yes? And I want you to watch her house. I don't trust her parents and I would like to make sure she stays safe. Keep an eye for anything curious. Especially if it seems that a hand has been laid on her. I will kill them myself if I have to."

Chidi raised a brow at his boss. "Have you become attached already?"

The Marquis sighed with the shake of his head. "She's a good woman. Very smart. She's interesting to me." He looked at Anika as she waited for his Second-In-Command. "Go. Her mother gets more angry by the minute she isn't home on time."

Chidi gave him a nod. "Of course, sir." He then turned around and walked towards Anika. "Come on, little lady. Let's get you back to your driver."

"Thank you." Anika smiled at him. "You don't have to walk me out."

"He wants to make sure you get out safe. Frankly, so do I." They approached the exit of the Louvre. Chidi opened the door for her as she walked outside. "Hey, blondie?"

Anika chuckled with amusement, and she turned around on her heel to look at him. "Oui?"

Chidi sent her a curt nod. "Stay safe, alright? I hope you get home alright."

Anika smiled once again. "Thank you. Bye, Chidi."

Anika chuckled again as she turned around to walk to her car. She entered the back seat. She put her seatbelt on and smiled at her driver. "Did you have a good lunch?"

"Oui, madam. Is there anywhere else you would like to go?"

Anika shook her head. "Non. Just straight home, s'il vous plait."

As the car drove away, Anika watched as the Louvre got out of her sight. She smiled to herself. It was all going according to plan. Soon enough, her parents would be dead, and she was happy about it. She was just glad she had the Marquis on her side.

next chapter...

[alejandrafrausto]

FINAL HAVEN: One last safe place

un fanfiction de Alejandra Frausto

CAPÍTULO 2

La madre de Sara siempre le insistió que no confiara en desconocidos, mucho menos en hombres que parecían ligados al mundo criminal. Sin embargo, aquí estaba ella, salvando a uno de la muerte. Las balas continuaban impactando contra la puerta que los separaba de su verdugo, y los pasos se escuchaban cada vez más cerca.

Sin pensarlo dos veces y deseando que sus actos no tuvieran consecuencias en el futuro, Sara tira con esfuerzo de los hombros del hombre inconsciente, arrastrándolo dentro de su edificio. A pocos metros de que su perseguidor los alcanzara, ella cierra la puerta de golpe.

Fuertes golpes resuenan en la puerta de acero. Sin saber de dónde sacó las fuerzas, Sara arrastra al hombre de traje costoso hacia las escaleras, apoyándolo contra la pared para que no se desplome por completo. Con dificultad, lo impulsa un escalón a la vez, buscando una manera de mantenerlo en pie mientras suben juntos.

—Tienes suerte de que viva en el segundo piso —gruñe Sara—, porque si no, te dejaría tirado aquí mismo.

Sara siente que ha pasado una eternidad cuando finalmente llegan a su departamento. Sin tiempo que perder, recuesta al hombre contra la pared junto a la puerta, saca sus llaves y abre. El maullido de su gata la recibe.

Sara se vuelve hacia el hombre y lo levanta, ahora con más facilidad, llevándolo hasta su pequeño sofá.

Ya con el hombre recostado, corre de regreso a la puerta. Justo antes de cerrarla, escucha el eco de alguien arrojando la puerta principal del edificio, seguido de pasos apresurados en la planta baja.

—Mierda.

El asesino ha entrado.

Sara cierra la puerta con el menor ruido posible y asegura todos los cerrojos, incluyendo la cadena.

Sin tiempo que perder y con el temor de que el cazador la descubra ocultando a su presa, corre hacia el hombre en el sofá, que sigue inconsciente y sangrando. Echa un vistazo a su pijama, manchada con la sangre de él, y con el corazón en la boca, reza en silencio para que la sangre no haya caído al suelo tras ellos.

Sin fuerzas, y sin importarle realmente si lo lastima o no, Sara decide arrastrarlo de los brazos hasta su habitación.

Con dificultad, lo levanta y lo recuesta sobre su cama.

—¿Qué estoy haciendo?

Sara se regaña a sí misma mientras busca el botiquín de primeros auxilios en los cajones de la cómoda frente a su cama.

—Debería llevarlo a un hospital, no jugar a la enfermera.

Deja el botiquín en la cama, a los pies del hombre, que aún lleva los zapatos puestos, y se dirige al baño en busca de toallas limpias.

Al volver, ve a Canela, su gata sin ningún sentido de supervivencia hacia extraños, olisqueando y lamiendo las heridas de su cara.

—Ah, pero a Helen le gruñías y te erizabas.

Canela la ignora y sigue lamiendo las heridas del hombre desmayado.

—Espera —dice Sara, tomando el botiquín y apartando a Canela—, vas a infectar sus heridas. Déjamelo a mí.

Con una toalla, presiona la herida en su cuello, que no ha dejado de sangrar. La sangre tiñe rápidamente la toalla color pastel de carmesí.

Sara examina las demás heridas del hombre con más detalle; la única preocupante es esa.

Parece como si una bala lo hubiera alcanzado pero solo lo rozó, sin penetrar; sin embargo, el roce ha provocado una gran herida en su cuello.

Sara presiona con más fuerza una nueva toalla, ya que la anterior se ha empapado por completo de sangre. Sabe que debe hacer algo más, además de evitar que se desangre.

Sin soltar la presión con una mano, con la otra abre el botiquín.

Sara saca gasas, alcohol y algodón del botiquín; por el rabillo del ojo, ve cómo Canela se recuesta sobre las piernas del desconocido.

Con cuidado y mucha delicadeza, comienza a limpiar las heridas de su rostro. Parecen cortes, como si hubiera atravesado algún cristal.

A pesar de estar trabajando solo con una mano —la otra sigue haciendo presión en su cuello—, se concentra en limpiar el mayor número de cortes en su cara. La herida del cuello es la más preocupante, por lo que decide improvisar un torniquete.

Con precisión, retira la corbata que el hombre lleva puesta y, utilizando una toalla limpia, presiona la herida. Envuelve la corbata con la toalla alrededor de su cuello, apretando con fuerza pero con el cuidado necesario para no asfixiarlo.

El torniquete cumple su función mientras Sara sale de la habitación en busca de hilo y aguja.

—Estás loca si crees que vas a coserlo —se dice a sí misma mientras abre y cierra cajones en su búsqueda—. Y sin anestesia, ¿qué te pasa, Sara? —Finalmente, encuentra su caja de hilos y algunas agujas, que usualmente usaba para bordar, en una de las repisas de la cocina—. ¡Aquí están!

"¿Y si lo lastimo más de lo que ya está?", piensa, sintiendo cómo el pánico comienza a apoderarse de ella.

El pánico se intensifica cuando fuertes golpes resuenan en la puerta de su departamento.

Sara se congela en el lugar, imaginando quién podría ser. Sabe perfectamente a quién están buscando.

Los golpes no cesan, y lágrimas de impotencia comienzan a llenar sus ojos. No sabe qué hacer. Su mente se nubla, y el peso de la situación la abruma por completo.

—¡Sé que hay alguien dentro!

La voz grave y furiosa del hombre retumba por todo el departamento, acompañada de nuevos golpes que hacen eco en las paredes.

Sara ahoga otro sollozo, respira profundamente e intenta calmarse, aunque el miedo la consume por completo.

—Afronta las consecuencias —susurra para sí, mientras limpia con la mano las lágrimas que se escapan de su rostro. Con pasos lentos, se dirige hacia la puerta—. ¿No es así?

Su mano tiembla al tomar la manija, y más golpes la hacen saltar en su lugar. Sin quitar el cerrojo de la cadena que mantiene la puerta apenas entreabierta, separándola de su atacante, Sara reúne el último vestigio de valentía y abre la puerta lo suficiente para enfrentar lo que viene.

Un hombre, vestido con traje y corbata como el que yace inconsciente en la cama de Sara, se presenta frente a ella. Sin embargo, su atuendo parece más un uniforme que una vestimenta formal.

El atacante inclina la cabeza hacia abajo, encontrándose con la mirada de Sara, quien lo observa, teniendo que alzar la vista para mirarlo a los ojos.

—¿Sí? —balbucea ella.

El miedo la invade; él sostiene un arma en su mano derecha. A pesar de esto, Sara nota un instante fugaz en el que sus facciones se suavizan al oír su voz.

—Lo siento, estoy buscando a un hombre. Se llama Santino D'Antonio.

El hombre se detiene, esperando una reacción de Sara. Al no obtener respuesta, prosigue:

—Tengo razones para creer que está aquí.

—Lo siento, no lo conozco.

La respuesta de Sara es rápida, e intenta cerrar la puerta de golpe, pero el hombre la detiene, señalando el suelo. Un charco de sangre mancha sus zapatos.

《¡Qué estúpida, Sara!》, se reprende en silencio. ¿Cómo pudo no notar eso?

—Yo...

—Escúcheme bien —la interrumpe, su tono se vuelve más grave mientras Sara lo mira, incapaz de disimular su miedo—. Santino es un hombre peligroso y no dudará en hacerle daño. Déjeme entrar para llevármelo, y no la molestaré más.

—Pero lo va a matar —murmura Sara, apenas audible. No era una pregunta.

—Abre la puerta, y no tendrás de qué preocuparte.

Sara asiente lentamente.

—Está bien —dice, esperando que el hombre reaccione, pero él no se mueve—. Voy a cerrar para quitar la cadena.

Sin esperar respuesta y aprovechando que el hombre afloja su presión, Sara cierra la puerta de golpe. No piensa volver a abrirla.

—¿Señorita?

El atacante suena confundido y furioso al mismo tiempo. Sara, con esfuerzo, arrastra el mueble más cercano para colocarlo contra la puerta tratando de bloquearla.

—¡¿Señorita?!

Los golpes en la puerta de intensifican, y Sara se apresura su habitación. No recuerda dónde dejó lo que había salido a buscar, pero eso queda en segundo plano; lo único que importa ahora es que ese hombre no entre.

—¿Qué estoy haciendo? ¿Qué demonios estoy haciendo? ¡¿Qué carajos estoy haciendo?!

Se ragaña en voz alta mientras cierra la puerta de su habitación y echa el seguro con manos temblorosas.

Lágrimas inundan sus ojos mientras observa al hombre, condenado a muerte, recostado en su cama.

《No lo voy a entregar, no es correcto》, se dice, convencida de que todos merecen una segunda oportunidad, sin importar sus acciones.

—Da igual lo que hayas hecho —se acerca a él con determinación, tomando un trozo de algodón empapado en alcohol de su mesita de noche—. Aquí estarás a salvo, lo prometo.

Con delicadeza, Sara pasa el algodón por sus heridas, limpiando lo peor. Cada vez que extrae un fragmento de vidrio de su rostro, su expresión se retuerce de dolor; sabe que debe estar sufriendo.

Sara arroja el tercer algodon usado a la basura, cierra las ventanas que dan a la calle y corre las cortinas. La lámpara junto a su cama y la luz del baño son las únicas que iluminan su cuarto.

Suspira con temor, pero está decidida a cumplir su promesa. No se arrepiente. Sobre su cadáver permitirá que alguien haga daño al hombre que esconde en su hogar.

Los golpes en la puerta no cesan, al contrario, se intensifican, como si quisieran derribarla.

《¿Debería llamar a la policía?》, reflexiona. Es evidente que esos hombres no parecen personas comunes; el que protege parece sacado de una película de la mafia italiana, y el que lo quiere muerto, como si su vida dependiera de ello.

—Si llamo a la policía... ¿cambiará algo? ¿O empeorará todo? —murmura.

Sara se inclina hacia él y revisa el torniquete improvisado. Parece estar funcionando; la toalla limpia que había colocado antes sigue del mismo color pastel, sin rastro de sangre. Sin saber qué más hacer, decide quitarle los zapatos. Además de que están sucios y llenos de lodo, están ensuciando la cama, y al menos así podrá estar más cómodo.

Con sumo cuidado, sin alterar el torniquete en su cuello, le retira el saco agujereado por las balas. Por un momento, el pánico la invade, imaginando que todas esas balas lo atravesaron. Pero al quitarle el saco y ver el chaleco de su traje intacto, un suspiro de alivio escapa de sus labios.

—Entonces...

Sara comienza a hablarle, sin saber si él puede escucharla. En realidad, lo hace más para calmarse a sí misma.

—Santino, ¿verdad? Así te llamó el hombre que te persigue.

Santino sigue inconsciente, pero ella continúa.

—De Antonio, algo así, ¿no? Me pregunto de dónde eres. Suena muy elegante, como un nombre europeo. Yo soy Sara Rodríguez, ya te imaginarás de dónde soy.

Echa un vistazo a Canela, su gata, que se ha acurrucado aún más cerca de las piernas de Santino. Sara la mira con incredulidad, todavía sorprendida de que pueda comportarse así frente a un completo desconocido.

—Y ella es Canela, que por lo visto te ha tomado cariño, porque no se ha movido de tu lado desde que llegaste.

Un fuerte estruendo rompe la calma que Sara había logrado momentos antes. La puerta de su departamento, junto con el mueble que intentaba bloquearla, ceden.

Pasos firmes y apresurados resuenan en todo el departamento. Sara, inmóvil, contiene el aliento, rezando para que su gata no emita el más mínimo sonido.

El lobo entró, y ellas estan ocultando a su cordero.

GRACIAS POR LEER

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Exhausted - John Wick X Female (Wife) Reader - ft. Boy

Title: Exhausted

John Wick X Female (Wife) Reader - ft. Boy

Additional Characters: Boy the best Boi

Requested by @fujinswife!

WC: 1,713

Warnings: Hitman stuff mentioned, killing people insinuated, wounds mentioned, bullet grazes mentioned, blood, one curse word, Reader takes care of John after a long day sort of cute fluff, massages cause John deserves them, Donald Glover mentioned), slight angst like the tiniest of angst, and fluff

You watched the clock on the wall, sitting on your favorite chair with a book in your hands. Though you had originally been enraptured with the new romantic drama you bought at Barnes And Noble, your mind began to wander and your eyes landed on the clock on the wall; tick, tock, tick, tock. It was almost ten, pretty late for you, but not for your husband. While you would probably be in bed by now, snuggled up with Boy, and cuddled in the arms of your beloved, your husband, John was out on the job.

Being a Hitman was a hard and stressful job, going out to find your hit and, in better words, eliminate them. It was taxing on the body and mind, and it was for you also at times. You always became overwhelmingly worried whenever you found John gone from bed and a Post-It note on the fridge. The words, 'going to the store' in black ink. You knew by now that that was code, code for 'I'm going to go and fight people and possibly come home with a wound or two.'

Now you didn't mind taking care of your John. Cleaning his bloody knuckles and bullet grazes helped you rationalize with your brain that your Johnny was alive and with you. That he came back, somewhat safe, but he was there with you in the flesh. Though you had to admit, the blood on your hands after helping your husband haunted you and made your skin crawl. But no matter how many times John tried to let him clean his own wounds, knowing how much you hated the sight of his blood, you'd stop him. You didn't think your husband was a burden, you were beyond willing to take care of him. You'd do anything to make sure he was alright.

As your gaze broke from the clock, you tried to re-read the page that you were on, glancing up when you heard the pitter-patter of clawed paws, watching with a smile as Boy entered the room, making his way over to you and sitting at your feet. You hummed, leaning down and past your book to rub Boy's head, his eyes closing in bliss as you scratched behind his ears. You hummed again, leaning back against the back of your chair, and looking at the front door. "I bet," You began, glancing at Boy with a smile, "He'll be home in ten minutes." You finished before tilting your own head. "When do you think Dad will be home? Hmm? Soon, right?" You asked Boy, who only whined a bit before laying his head on his front paws, making you sigh, nodding knowingly. "Yeah, another thirty. You're right."

For the next forty-five minutes, you sat and read, periodically making sure Boy was alright or taking a bathroom break. The room around you was dim, only a few lamps lighting it as you listened to the owl occasionally hoot outside, and the constant sound of crickets chirping outside in the garden. The book in your hands was as anticlimactic as you thought it would be from the first sentence. You regretted giving it a chance, really. You thought it was going to be a heartfelt book, with drama but a happy ending, like Pride And Prejudice or something, but you felt extremely underwhelmed when the main character, Maryanne, ended up marrying Lord Leo after her childhood friend Steven confessed to her. After all they've been through!? You thought as you stared blankly at the page. Steven sacrificed everything for you, and this Lord Leo had been caught cheating on you with your cousin Claire! You couldn't find it in yourself to even finish the last two pages, tasting a sourness in your mouth. 

"Should've called off the damn wedding." You muttered, earning a head raise from Boy as you shut the book and sat it aside, before you could say anything more to Boy, you watched as he looked over at the door suddenly, his tail wagging, and you smiled, staring at the door yourself as you felt your heart hammer in your chest. John was home. You watched as you heard the keys jingle in his hands before you jumped out of the chair and slid across the hardwood floor with your socks, almost hitting the door as you looked out the peephole just in case before hastily opening it. John stood there, blood on his bottom lip, hands, and dotting the collar of his white suit shirt, and yet, he still gave you a smile. 

Entering, you closed the door behind him, instantly taking any weapons from him to put away in that safe of his, before rushing back to find him standing where you left him, shoulders slightly slouched as he stared down at Boy at his feet, still fiercely wagging his tail. Breaking their stare down, you took John's hand in yours, leading him to the bathroom. As John sat on the lid of the toilet, you grabbed the first-aid kit from under the sink, and for the next half-and-hour, you cleaned any and all his wounds. It was silent as you worked, your tongue sticking out slightly from your mouth as you dabbed the cotton ball on his knuckles, cleaning off the blood. John just watched you, like he usually did, mesmerized by the thought of you caring for him, and just you in general. You were so careful when treating him. It warmed his heart, body, and soul.

After you finished cleaning his wounds, you helped John into the shower, before rushing off to find a new fresh pair of pajamas for him, throwing them, and his towel, in the dryer for a couple of minutes so they would be warm for John when he got out. For the rest, it was like clockwork, helping him out, giving him clothes, brushing his hair for him as he brushed his teeth slowly, and finally holding his freshly bandaged hand as you led him to the kitchen for some dinner.

Sometimes words were exchanged, but most of the time, there wasn't. The silence engulfed the two of you and it was nice, peaceful. You both basked in it. After you and John finished your food, you traveled to the couch where you turned on the tv, handing John the remote for him to browse through channels. Your hands then landed on his shoulders, gently putting pressure in all the right places, easing the tension in his muscles. You kissed his cheek softly, giving him what he needed to relax as he leaned further into you, sighing as your fingers trailed up his shoulders to his scalp, your fingernails scratching gently, running your fingers through his slightly damp hair.

Pulling away, you walked around the couch to sit beside John, smiling and chuckling lightly at the smile of content on his face. You sat down, leaning into his side as John's arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. The two of you watched the TV for a good while, which ended up being a Donald Glover movie, before you felt John's head turn, the stubble of his beard softly grazing your cheek, causing you to giggle quietly, turning your head a little to meet his gaze. Before you could say anything, John leaned down to press his lips onto yours, You smiled against his lips as you placed your hands on his stubbly cheeks, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. His hands ran down your body until they reached your waist, gripping you tightly, protectively, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hips, sending tingly shivers throughout your entire being before you both pulled away. 

You hummed, gazing lovingly at your husband, your eyes beholding the man's beauty, your fingers gently brushing against his cheeks, chin, and jaw. "What are you thinking about?" John mumbled, his voice husky with sleepiness. You opened your mouth to answer, but a yawn escaped you instead, shaking your head as you hid your face in his neck, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

"Just you." You answered softly, snuggling further into his neck as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. You smiled as you laid your hand against his chest, you could feel his heartbeat quicken, a soft chuckle escaping him. "I'm glad you're home." You told him as his hand cupped the nape of your neck, pulling you closer to his shoulder, his fingers running through the hair on the nape of your neck; kissing the top of your head.

"Me too. I missed you." He answered, kissing the top of your head. 

You sighed contently, nestling your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent deeply. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy. "I missed you too." You muttered against his neck, closing your eyes as you fell asleep in his arms. 

John sighed, holding you close as he watched Boy waddle over from his food bowl, looking up at him with big brown eyes. John took his time, scooping you up in his arms before standing up, grunting slightly as he strained his side a bit. Boy followed after you and John as he headed to the bedroom, hopping up on the bed as John laid you down gently in the bed, tucking you in the soft, fluffy covers. When he stood back up, he looked at Boy, staring at him for a moment before reaching down and petting the dog, smiling slightly as Boy leaned his head into his hand. 

“Good Boy.” John muttered, not wanting to wake you, as he rubbed Boy’s ears before Boy moved to lay beside you, your arm subconsciously wrapping around the pup before going back to sleeping peacefully. John sighed slightly before he got in bed on his side, pulling the blankets over him before turning on his side to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling your back into his chest. The night went on peacefully like this, the three of you falling fast asleep and waking up to each other. This process continued like this, every day, for months and years to come. You wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Just you, John, and Boy, against the world.

[mynameis-noe-body]

Masterlist

For those wondering: I closed the previous mynameis-noe-body blog and opened a new one, to make it a main blog and have free access to dm.

First of all, rules. This is a list of my works, and I will rate them accordingly to Ao3 guidelines. This means they may be explicit and so, strictly +18.

I will write for the following fandoms and more (find more in others).

I will not write underage. I am comfortable with a certain amount of angst and/or violence but it's still up to me to decide what I am okay with.

I will not write for The Marauders fandom, since I do not appreciate those characters.

Requests are closed for the moment. And thank you for reading.

▪️Wizarding World

Shot through the heart

Professor Severus Snape × Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (multiple chapters)

Summary: Licorice Hatch has traveled the world, fulfilling her dream of becoming one of the most famous writers and reporters in the Wizarding World. Now, she is coming back. Merlin only knows the turmoil she has caused in the heart of her dark, splendid professor. And at the very thought — eager to hold her in his arms again — Severus can't help but relive their whole story, from the very beginning, when it all started with a Wilbur Smith's book and... a two-month detention!

The Old Mill at the Hogsmeade's Eastern Forest

Post-Second Wizarding War Severus Snape × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: in progress (multiple chapters)

Summary: A year and a half after the end of the war, Severus still hasn't managed to leave Britain. No one knows of his survival, and for months he enjoys a life of silence, solitude and well-deserved peace. Everything would be absolutely perfect, were it not for you, sitting on his empty tombstone everyday to bring condolences and read some poetry. When it's said that curiosity killed the cat...

▪️Adam Driver Fandom

How to (not) kill a stranger

Kylo Ren × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (multiple chapters)

Summary: He glances at you. "A young lady like you shouldn't travel alone, on a night like this." You want to roll your eyes and send him to hell, but he was kind to help you and you don't want any more trouble. "I couldn't really stay in Aberdeen. I knew my old Corolla wouldn't hold up for long, not in this weather, but I wanted to at least get to the Motel for the night." He nods, raises the temperature of the car and you thank him again. He doesn't acknowledge your words. But he smirks. "Aren't you afraid you just crossed your path with a murderer?" You grin. "What are the odds that we are both murderers?"

▪️Stranger Things

Catch me if you can, Chief!

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: It's the 4th of July in Hawkins, and while everybody's having fun at the amusement park, the only one who's catching your attention is Jim Hopper, Chief of Police — and he's looking at you, equally interested.

This Friday night

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: All alone on a Friday night, after a long week of college classes, you just want to eat some ice cream and watch a movie. You didn't expect Jim to pay you visit — but god, if it isn't a nice surprise. OR — you and Jim (your father's best friend) get intimate on your parents' couch.

“Nothing to say, hm?”

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You let Billy flirt with you a little... that might not be a good idea. Jim will find a very passionate way of showing his jealousy.

Sunday morning: pancakes and...

Chief Jim Hopper x you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You make Jim breakfast and decide to wake him up with your hands and mouth.

▪️John Wick Fandom

🖤 Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont 🖤

I am your slave

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F/GN)

Rating: Teen & Up Audience

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You and Vincent play the jealousy game at a public evening gala of the High Table. You end up revelieng almost all of your feelings to each other.

Safe in his arms

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F/GN)

Rating: Teen & Up Audience

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: Vincent, who has fallen in love with you and made you his beautiful wife, has never really told you about his true life of crime and murder. What will you do the first time you catch him red handed?

Little dove

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You're the Marquis' favorite tailor — and you always act so innocent and pure it would just too much fun to ruin you (corruption kink).

🖤 John Wick 🖤

Origami

John Wick × reader (F/GN)

Rating: All

Status: Complete (one shot - drabble)

Summary: A casual encounter lead you and John to looking for each other, wishing to meet again.

▪️Others (open to write for: Alice in Wonderland, Joker(s), Johnny Depp fandom)

Wonderland Chronicles

Tarrant Higtop (Mad Hatter) × Alice Kingsley

Fandom: Alice in Wonderland

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: Alice and Tarrant get inspired by fruit juices and enjoy smutty time, all alone during a tea party.

🔹A list of k*nks without explanation

Severus Snape

Lucius Malfoy

Eddie Munson

Billy Hargrove

Chief Jim Hopper

[findroleplay]

Hello everyone, I am looking for a few fandoms! Some are very niche! I am open to canon divergence, alternate universes, or making our own universe based off basics from the fandom! I am also looking for some original plots based on some vibes/themes listed below. I require a writing sample! I am looking for advanced novella (discord limit at least 2x please, acceptable grammar, etc). All writers and characters will be 18+! I do prefer FxF but MxF is okay if the characters mesh well together! I DO NOT double, other than that I have no requirements, no triggers, etc. Characters I write as are listed first, followed by who I ship them with!

Fandoms:

1. Harry Potter:

Hermione Granger x Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle, Harry Potter.

Narcissa Black x Lily Evans, Alice Longbottom

2. Avatar: The Last Airbender

Princess Azula x Sokka, Suki, Katara, Aang.

3. John Wick

John Wick x Female OC

Male/Female OC x Male/Female OC

4. (Horror): The Perfection, Prom Night, The Descent, Cabin In The Woods, etc.

Male/Female OC x Male/Female OC

5. Resident Evil

Sheva Alomar x Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine

Jill Valentine x Chris Redfield, Carlos Olivera, Claire Redfield

Rain Ocampo x Alice Abernathy

Leon Kennedy x Ada Wong

Male/Female OC x Male/Female OC

6. Disney's Holes

Female OC x Female OC

7. Twilight

Rose x Leah, Bella

Male/Female OC x Male/Female OC

8. Game of Thrones

Dothraki Male/Female OC x Male/Female OC

9. Narnia

Susan Pevensie x Female OC

Other Fandoms, Inspiration/Vibes: Harper's Island, Yellow Jackets, The Wilds, The 100, Star Trek, Star Wars, Prisoners, Novitiate, Lost and Delirious, Disobedience, Brokeback Mountain, The Covenant, etc.

Original Plot

Vibes/Themes:

Religion, Religious trauma, Angst, Horror, Psychological Horror, Enemies to Lovers, Childhood best friends to lovers, Opposites Attract, Modern, Supernatural, Euphoria Vibes, etc.

Honestly, anything dark and icky and cute and sweet, something interesting that has a lot of plot development, character development, lots of angst, fluff, soulmates! :)

Hope to hear from you! Please like or send a writing sample and what you're interested in to azula#8183 on discord!

_

[velvainee]

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 : roleplays !

🎐 — yes, i do roleplays ! i dont have discord atm, so all of the roleplays will be either done in the tumblr dms or in reblogs .. im female, 21, submissive bisexual, and my timezone is EST.

𖦹 ׂguidelines for rp. i have been roleplaying since mid-2022. if you want to roleplay please don’t expect me to accept your request if you’re a one liner, since i write im paragraphs and in third person.

communication is key ! if you need a break, tell me, if you’re going to sleep/leaving tell me. don’t be afraid to notify me if you don’t like what’s happening, confused, lost, or want to change things up. i always want you to be okay.

oc x oc roleplays are also allowed, as long as you have a story or i know of the universe we’re in ! fandoms i roleplay in and favorite ships (some canon, some not), blue means the character i would play as ! my original characters are here

keanuverse. any keanu character x oc. john wick x sofia al-azwar. john wick x helen wick. john constantine x angela dodson. trinity x neo.

heathers. jason dean x veronica sawyer. heather chandler x veronica sawyer.

you. joe goldberg x guinevere beck. joe goldberg x love quinn. peach salinger x guinevere beck. joe goldberg x delilah alves

hemlock grove. roman godfrey x oc

others. patrick bateman x oc. marquis de gramont x oc.

dni if. poor communication, you’re going to ghost, minor, incest/pregnancy/pegging/anal/bodily fluids/knife play/death/necrophilia kinks.

[consumedkings-archive]

[2/?] graphic requests » madilyn moone x john wick for @starcrier

“The job in Madrid,” he said, “was that you?”

It was an inane question, one he likely already knew the answer to. “Yes,” she’d replied anyway, wrongfooted and annoyed.

“It was impressive,” he’d eventually said, not rising to the bait. The whole situation was suddenly so ridiculous she would have laughed if she still knew how.

“It was easy.”

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Meet Cute (John Wick x OFC)

Summary: Lilah finally gets to meet the tall, dark and handsome man she had been lowkey crushing on for the last four months when his dog gets loose and comes to play with her. Based on the prompt 58: “You smell like a wet dog”

Author’s notes: 1) Canon divergent AU, because I’m adding a bigger time gap between John finding his car in the beginnings of JW: Chapter 2 and Santino coming around with a marker to give John a chance to go back to retirement and properly grieve over Helen. This piece would be set in that time period. 2) Also I’m a big sucker for soft!John, ok? It’s one of my favorite things. I have this headcanon that he doesn’t really know how to flirt or show someone he’s interested in them. I highkey think Helen might have been the one to make the first move between them. 

Warnings: none, I think. Unless dogs playfully jumping on people freaking you out.

As often as Lilah could, she went to the park on her lunch breaks. It was a bit of a walk from the office at the Psychology department, but it was definitely worth it for the opportunity of not feeling the pressure of hurrying up with her meal to go back to work; to actually feel the sun and breathe air that hadn’t been artificially renewed and carried the faint traces of sanitizer.

There was this old oak she liked to sit beneath. It provided enough shade to avoid overheating and gave her a great view of the rest of the park, allowing her to people-watch and imagine stories for their lives, one of her favorite hobbies.

Lilah took a bite of her tuna sandwich and checked her watch. It was 12:30 already and her favorite subject of observation was apparently late. He was always there on Tuesdays, along with his blueish grey pitbull. He would sit by the fountain and watch the park with an almost wistful look. He kept one hand resting on the dog’s while he ate a sandwich, sneaking a few pieces of meat to his pet,. Once he was done, he would stand up again and leave, always walking past where she was sitting.

She didn’t know what it was about him that caught her eye. It was more than just his handsome features, that she was sure. Maybe it was the fact that when Lilah first noticed him four months ago he had this air of sorrow and grief. But as the weeks passed that seemed to ease some. She even caught him laughing once when the pitbull got a little greedy and stole the last bite of his sandwich while he was distracted.

And at some point along those weeks, he started looking over and giving Lilah a quick nod of greeting as he walked past her. He apparently also noticed that she was a frequent presence in the park. Lilah would reply with a smile and a quick rub on the dog’s head when it started approaching her for curious sniffles. Probably catching the scent of her cat on her clothes.

This had been Lilah’s Tuesday’s ritual for a while, and she was a little disappointed that they weren’t there today. Their presence always helped to brighten up her day and make her forget that her research wasn’t yielding the data she needed or that Lilah’s advisor had asked her to review their paper for the hundredth time just because the woman didn’t like one of the authors Lilah used as reference.

Resigned that she probably weren’t going to see them today, Lilah finished her sandwich and put on her headphones. She still had another ten minutes before she had to go back, and she was adamant on enjoying every second of it.

Lilah laid back on her elbows humming along the music in her ears, once again counting the days until she would finally defend her dissertation and all of this underlying stress and constant worry would finally be over and replaced with stress and constant worry from an actual teaching position.

Lilah was startled back to reality when something grey, furry and very wet collided with her chest. Her squeak of surprise turned into laughter as the familiar pitbull yapped happily, trying to lick her face.

“Hey buddy!” she greeted, scratching it head and neck, noticing a piece of his leash still attached to the collar by the clasp, the tip torn.

“Where did you came from, huh? Where’s your tutor?” Lilah asked managing to sit up as the dog settled heavily on her lap and she couldn’t help but grin.

“Dog, Off!” A gruffy voice called seconds later and the pitbull moved off and laid down next to her.

“I’m so sorry, he knows better than to jump on people,” the man said, narrowing his eyes at the pitbull.

The dog seemed aware that he did something wrong, because he covered its face with its paws. It was the cutest thing in the world.

“It’s fine, really,” she replied, scratching the dog’s head. “He knew I was a friend.”

“He still shouldn’t have,” he said with a sigh, crouching down and examining the torn leash on his hand. “Most people are scared of him.”

And she didn’t know why, but something told her there was some kind of underlying meaning to those words.

“I’m not,” Lilah declared, watching him as she petted the dog.

“I’ve noticed,” he replied, meeting her gaze. He had the most beautiful eyes.

“What’s his name?” Lilah asked, looking back at the dog, a little unnerved by the intensity of those brown eyes.

“Dog,” he informed, looking down and rubbing his nape, seemingly embarrassed and Lilah giggled. “I’m really not good with names.”

“If it works it works,” she assured with a shrug, sneaking a glance at him. He was watching her again.

Lilah was at loss of what to do or say. It was one thing to watch him from afar and wonder about him, who he was, what he did. It was totally different to have him here, this close, watching her back. She decided it might be safer to keep her focus on Dog.

“Hi Dog!” she called.

The pitbull recognized his name and turned his head towards her. He almost looked like he was smiling, and Lilah chuckled. He was wiggling his tail but didn’t move towards her. She realized that despite running off, Dog was very well trained.

“How about you? Do you have a name?” Lilah mustered the courage to ask, looking back at the man.

“John,” he replied looking almost startled that she had asked.  

“But not Doe, right?” Lilah joked.

It was a lame one, but John still chuckled, so she counted as a win.

“No, not Doe,” he answered, eyes darting to somewhere behind Lilah, before he patted his leg once.

Dog got up from where he was lying next to Lilah and moved to his side. John wrapped his fingers around the collar, holding onto it with a firm grip. From what she have seen so far, it didn’t seem like Dog needed to be held down, so she glanced behind herself, noticing a guy glaring at John and the unleashed pitbull. Lilah realized John did it more as a reassurance for other people than actual necessity.

Lilah glared back at the guy watching John and Dog, almost as if to challenge him to say or do something. She knew how to put on a mean scowl if she needed to. She was a Latina woman raised in Hell’s Kitchen after all.

Finally, the guy hurried away and she looked back at the pair in front of her, finding John smiling. It was a small, barely there quirk of lips; almost as if he wasn’t sure how to do it, but it was there. Lilah smiled back and ducked her head a little embarrassed.

That was when she finally noticed the mess of muddy paw prints and grass stains in her clothes and laughed. She had felt her shirt uncomfortable wet as soon as it happened but got distracted by John’s arrival and completely forgot it until now.

Her laughter must have attracted John’s attention to it as well, because he winced as he stood up and offered her a hand to help her up as well. Lilah did a quick double take because, Damn! He was big guy. It wasn’t just height either. He had broad shoulders and chest that filled up his white shirt quite nicely. It was very attractive, and Lilah flushed.

“Please let me take care of dry-cleaning? He ruined your clothes,” John asked, taking a card from his pockets and offering her.

“You don’t have to,” she assured, pushing the card back. “Trust me, making friends with Dog’s probably gonna be the highlight of my day.”

And maybe it was her wishful thinking, but Lilah thought John looked almost disappointed as he pushed the card back into his pocket.

“If you’re sure…” he trailed off and Lilah nodded, gathering the rest of her stuff. It was time to go back to work. “It was nice to meet you, John. You too Dog.”

“I didn’t catch your name,” John asked before she could step away.

“Lilah,” she answered grinning, glad he had asked. “Bye John.”

She petted the pitbull one last time, before she waved at them and started to walk away. Before she stepped on the sidewalk to cross the street, she looked over her shoulder. Her entire life she hated the feeling of being watched and today the feeling of eyes on her was overwhelming.

But it was just John still standing there, holding onto Dog and watching her go. That made her pulse speed up and she smiled. John smiled back and waved.

The stop light opened before she could wave back so she hurried to cross the street with the other pedestrians. When Lilah looked again, John and Dog were gone.

As Lilah made her way back to the lab, she barely noticed or cared that people were giving weird looks and a wide berth. John was still in her head and she knew he would be for the rest of the day.

“You smell like a wet dog,” Was the first thing Sid, Lilah’s friend and fellow PhD candidate, said when she walked back into the office they shared at the Psychology department. “What the hell happened?”

He had finally turned around to look at her, eyes widening in shock at her state. Lilah just laughed, still too giddy to really share what happened. Instead, she dropped her bag at her desk and picked up the backpack she kept under it and headed for the bathroom.

It wasn’t until she finished changing clothes that it hit Lilah: John might had looked disappointed when she refused his card because that might have been his way to try and give her his number, but she completely blew that.

Next Tuesday, as Lilah took her place under the oak to have lunch, Dog appeared by her side tail wiggling, but he remained still, sitting on his hind legs. She noticed the leash still attached to his collar and when she looked up John was also there.

“Hi,” Lilah greeted, breathing and heart speeding up at the sight of him

So, she looked back at Dog offering him a hand for him to sniff. He took it as an invitation and plopped next to her, resting his head in her lap. He looked up with begging eyes, waiting to be petted. Lilah chuckled and scratched behind his ears.

“No wonder he dragged me here,” John commented with that small smile and Lilah noticed he was carrying a brown paper bag with him. Probably his own lunch.

“Wanna join me?” She invited after a second of deliberation. Her heart felt like it was trying to bust out of her chest.

“He didn’t leave me much of a choice,” John replied with a snort, nodding at Dog.

Lilah’s stomach dropped in disappointment as she looked away and pulled her hand away from Dog. Maybe she was wrong last week. Maybe he was just trying to be polite when he offered his card and to pay for her dry-cleaning.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, trying to ignore how Dog kept shoving his head under her hand again with a small whine.

“Shit! That came out wrong,” John sputtered, combing his hair away from his eyes and sigh in frustration. “Sorry. I’m not very good at this.”

“Me either,” Lilah confessed finally relaxing. It was reassuring to see that John seemed as nervous as she was.

For a moment, the two of them just stayed there, watching one another with matching hesitant smiles.

“It’s lunch. I think we can make it work,” she said at last and John’s smile widened.

He sat down, back resting against the oak as well, Dog sandwiched between them.

“Yes. I think we can,” he declared, glancing sideways at her and it almost felt like a promise to Lilah’s ears.

xxx

[cynic-spirit]

I am so happy you all love this series. It really has pièces of my heart in the poetry I have used here. If you have a favorite poem, from literature that you would like me to include. Please message me. If it fits, I will definitely use it.

The Poem Series (1) “A Poison Tree” - John Wick

The poem Series part 2

The Poem Series Part 3

The Poem Series Part 4

The Poem Series Part 5

The Poem Series Part 6

The Poem Series Part 7

The Poem Series Part 8

The Poem Series Part 9

The Poem Series Part (10)

The Poem Series Part (11)

The Poem Series Part (12)

The Poem Series Part (13)

John, partially retired, a hitman, an assassin, the boogeyman, feared more than the devil himself, was a man who was also incredibly lonely. He had spent many years relentlessly killing. He had money, power, and people feared him. Now he sought someone to share his life with. Someone who would understand him and make him feel human. Someone who would not see him as a monster. Someone who would look beyond his persona of hyper-lethality. He sat in one of the bars owned by the Continental. Addy served him his usual, a bourbon, neat with three ice cubes. John is a man who keeps to himself. He doesn’t talk to anyone even when he is outside. His aura is too powerful to allow anyone approach him without a fear. John has always wondered what should he do, what can he do, he does want to have a woman in his life, to cherish, to love, to protect and to care for. He kept thinking as he sat on the bar stool staring at his drink. As he sipped his whiskey, Addy continued to attend to the people.

“Jack Daniels served over ice please”

John is startled by the voice beside him. It grabs his attention. Carefully he looks, not being obvious. There stood a brunette, dressed in jeans, grey sweater, with her white collared shirt peeking out from the neck. She looked no more than 25 years of age, a gentle smile, a little shy, and definitely not fit for a place like this. A satchel bag was hung across her shoulders. One of the zips had the letter “D” hanging from it. John wondered if she was a student at college. She looked a little older to be a student, but too young to be anyone else too. Now who might she be. Suddenly his entire attention was on this woman. He silently hoped that Addy would make her small talk with this mystery woman who had intrigued him, just by her presence.

John’s attention on the woman was not missed by Addy. She had known John for many years now and by John’s standards, she might call herself his friend. She saw the subtle movement of John’s eye. Addy smiled in herself, for it had been a while that a woman had John’s attention. Yes, she will talk to this woman, for she knows that John will listen to their conversation.

“Are you sure honey?”

“Oh yeah, what I am about to do, requires some liquid courage.”

“What are you about to do?”

“Something that my friends believe I need to do” The woman pointed to a table where three girls sat giggling and talking.

“And what might that be”

“Well. I had a breakup a few weeks ago and my friends think I have grieved enough. So they brought me here. They have given me two choices – either I hook up with the first guy that talks to me, or go up on that stage and put my music talents to good use”

John smirks listening to this woman. He cannot resist any more. He finally takes another sip of his whiskey and turns.

“What did you decide?”

“Who might you be?”

“John, John Wick”

“Hello John Wick. I am Diana.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Answer what?”

“What did you decide?”

“Don’t you wanna know?”

With this, she took a sip of her whiskey and saunters away from the bar to her table. John sees her keep her satchel on one of the chairs. She says something to her friends. They are happy. John wonders what she is about to do. He certainly does not want to just “hook up” with this woman. He has a feeling she is not a woman who would hook up with random strangers. She had an unidentifiable quality that was drawing John to her like a moth to a flame. John sees her leaning on the back of her chair. She takes a deep breath and starts moving towards the stage where the jazz band was playing.

The woman walks up the stage like a queen and yet John could see the pink on her cheeks. She has a small chat with the band. They stop playing and she takes the mic and says,

“I was angry with my friend;

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow.

”With these lines, I present to you a song. The woman sings and John swore, he could feel himself melting to her voice. 

(The song)

The song was in French and the voice was divine. John could see wind stirred waves in her eyes as she sang. He felt helpless. He suddenly felt scared for he knew even he was not brave enough to enter their depths. Everything else was blur and John realized something, he was so enamored, so enchanted that he would stay in this moment forever, no matter what. He felt he had never lived a moment before he saw her, heard her. He cannot be separated from this woman. He felt angry on himself for being without her. Be mine, like you have made me yours, he thought. This unusual feeling ached John’s heart. When her heart meets Johns. He would celebrate it with her grace, her poise, and her presence. John had no more wishes. The song ended, the people in the bar clapped, her friends at the table cheered, the mesmerizing woman on stage, looked around the bar with joy and shyness. Her eyes met that of John’s who sat at the bar. She raised her glass from stage to him gently as she sipped the rest of her whiskey and climbed down to sit with her friends. At this moment, John knew, he had fallen in love.

[teejaywyatt1]

✨Chapter 44 of Skyline will drop on Thursday, April 18th at 8:30PM EST.✨

[orienteddreamerrr]

Here is an excerpt from my John Wick Fanfic sequel...

One of them states that Diana wasn’t in her class and that all her teachers haven’t seen her the whole day. Lara felt her heart drop. “Wait…Diana? She’s…missing?”, The sheriffs’ partner only nods. Lara felt like bursting into tears but tries to keep her composure. “You’re trying to say that she got kidnapped?”, The receptionist stands to her feet. “There’s a small mob running around here…they’ve been a nuisance on these school grounds…they’re from China...of course…”, Lara suddenly has these flashbacks of being taken by this mob from when she was in London…but a certain man had rescued her…it was John Wick. She snaps back to reality, knowing who to call as she walks up to the desk. “Can I use your phone?”, The receptionist nods as she points to a separate table where a phone was sitting.

She picks up the phone, dialing in the numbers of the Continental Hotel John had only mentioned to her once as the line starts to ring in her ear. After a moment, a familiar voice comes onto the line. “This is the Continental Hotel…how may I serve you?”, It was Charon. Lara smiles to herself into hearing his voice. “Charon…it’s me, Lara…I um…need to speak with Winston…please…”, Charon smiles to himself also into hearing Lara’s voice. “Of course, Miss Lara…give me a moment while I route your call…”, Lara shakes her head, being amused by Charon’s politeness. It was for a moment when she soon heard Winston’s voice on the line. “Winston? It’s me, Lara…I have a situation…”, Winston is sitting in his lounge, sipping away on his cocktail as he sighs. “Let me guess…a party crisis?”, Lara scoffs at his attempt. “Close…it’s more…personal…”, “Go on…”, Winston went serious, sipping away on his cocktail. Lara looks around the room, all eyes were glued on her. She sighs before speaking: “My daughter…she’s been kidnapped…”, Winston almost chokes on his cocktail drink upon hearing her words. He places the glass back down on the table as he shuffles in his seat. “By who?”, “A mob…”, Winston sighs at this.

“Tell me exactly what happened…”, Lara leans against the table, feeling a wave of dread wash over her as she explains in detail. “I was just dropping her off like I usually do…but when I did, I had this….pit feeling in my stomach…like something wasn’t right…”, Winston nods to himself as he was listening to her. Lara takes a moment before continuing. “…and…a few hours later…I come to pick up her but she’s not here…”, Her voice breaks from the tears forming in her eyes. “Alright, alright…calm down…I see what’s going on here…have you talked to John lately?”, Lara closes her eyes, trying to fight back the tears as she shakes her head. “No…”, Winston sighs to himself. “Alright…I’ll send you John’s phone number then…get in touch with him…explain what you have told me to him…and I'm sure he’ll be able to help you out…”, Lara can’t help but smile faintly to herself. “Thank you…Winston…”, Winston smiles faintly to himself as well. “Do not mention it miss Lara…if you are needing anything else, I am just a phone call away…”, Lara soon hangs up the phone as she looks straight to the receptionist. The receptionist looks to her. “Well?”, Lara gently dismisses her. “I got it from here…thank you…”, Lara looks to Sheriffs standing by, acknowledging them before quickly leaving out of the school building.

(If you haven't already, read the first!) 👇

[80siconic]

CHAPTER II - VIGILANTE SHIT.

previous chapter...

content warning(s): none

chapter two

so on the weekends, i don't dress for friends. lately i've been dressing for revenge.

vigilante shit by taylor swift

January, 2022 

                THE first thing that popped into Anika's mind when she woke up was her hair. Her long blonde hair had always been special to her. It had always been her staple but now, she felt indifferent to it. She had been bored with it. Anika looked in her bathroom mirror and made her decision. She was going to cut her hair. The only reason she never touched it was because her mother didn't want her to. Her father couldn't have cared less. So, Anika contacted her hair stylist and told the woman she wanted something different. Her hair stylist obliged, of course. The old Anika sat in that chair with her long blonde hair, and the new Anika now stared at her in the mirror. Her hair was just above her shoulders and dyed a beautiful red colour.

All Anika could do was smile at her new look. She was finally free from her old self. As they say, out with the old and in with the new. Anika was happy as she walked out of that salon. She had left her old self behind. At least that's what it felt like. Anika arrived at home and just waited to see the reaction on her mother's face. Opening the front door, there stood Valerie Dupont just waiting for her. Arms crossed and disappointment on her face. It grew bigger as she saw Anika's hair.

Anika stepped into the threshold and just looked at her mother with faux curiousity like she didn't know what her mother was staring at. "What?"

Valerie Dupont frowned, her face growing angry. "What did you do?"

Anika smirked at her mother. "What do you mean? I changed it." She then touched it. "Do you like it?"

"Of course, I don't like it." Her voice raised. "You ruined it."

Anika scoffed. "I didn't ruin it. You're being dramatic."

Anika moved to walk past her mother, but she grabbed her arm, roughly. "It looks awful."

"Well, what do you want me to do? Magically bring it back?" Anika yanked her arm out of her mothers hold.

"Just get it out of my face." Valerie grimaced.

Anika smiled sarcastically. "Gladly."

"The charity gala is tonight." Valerie shook her head in disappointment. "There's a dress on your bed for you."

With a nod and a darling smile, Anika walked away. As she climbed up the stairs, she clenched her jaw in anger. She wasn't going to let her mother get to her. She was going to make sure of it. After taking in a small breath, Anika calmed herself down and made it to her bedroom. She could see the dress on her bed, and, in all honesty, it didn't look that bad. But she was going to freeze when she was outside. "Beauty hurts," her mother had told her once.

The dress was red, her favourite. She smiled as it almost matched the colour of her hair.  There was nothing stopping her from trying it on, but she wanted to wait until later. Until then, she put the dress over the desk chair. It had been a few days since the meeting with the Marquis, and she hadn't heard anything back yet. She hadn't gotten anything from the Harbinger either, but she understood he was busy.

In all honesty, Anika was not excited for the charity gala. Of course it was for a good cause and Anika loved that but she knew she was only there for the same reason as always. Besides, her parents stole money. None of the money that they had made was from honesty. No one knew that except for her, and them. Truthfully, it was disgusting. Anika didn't expect anything else from them though. This was another reason why she was excited to take her parents down. She wanted to give back to everyone that they robbed from. It was what she wanted.

Besides that, Anika couldn't stop thinking about the Marquis. Meeting him was interesting and he was an interesting person. She did find him slightly intimidating but she did warm up to him. He wasn't as scary as everyone thought but at the same time, she had never seen him kill before. She had never seen him in action. Now seeing that would be quite interesting. The only thing that confused her was that she swore she had spotted a car watching her house. That was the day before. At first, she never thought that much about it but then something had happened. Anika could swear she saw the face of Chidi. The Marquis Second-In-Command.

Anika didn't know if this was the Marquis way of saying he had her back, but it sure seemed like it. Anika made sure to ask him about it the next time she saw him. The best she could do was keep track of the car and when it came around. There was a part of her brain that told her to message him. She thought against it, of course. Besides. His number was only in there for emergencies. But she needed somebody to speak to. In all truth, she felt alone. There wasn't anyone for her to speak to, and she wasn't speaking to her parents.

With a sigh, Anika pulled out her phone and sat on top of her bed. Crossing her legs, Anika went into her contacts and her finger hung over the Harbinger's number. Yes, this was a stupid, stupid idea but maybe it wasn't. Sucking it up, Anika clicked on the button and held the phone to her ear. It had rung a few times before the line was picked up. "Hello?"

Anika cleared her throat. "Hi. It's Anika, monsieur." Absentmindedly, she pulled at the strings on her sweater.

"Miss Dupont?" The Harbinger sounded confused. "What can I do for you? Is everything all right?"

Anika stayed silent for a moment, deciding on what to say. "Nothing, I just—Everything is fine. I just called to see if I could talk to you?"

There was shuffling on the other side of the phone before he spoke up. He was probably sitting down. "What would you like to talk about?"

Anika sighed. She still thought this was stupid but continued anyway. "There's a charity gala tonight. I am not looking forward to it." Anika chuckled quietly.

There was more silence before he spoke again. "Why's that?"

"The same reason as always. I'm only there for one reason and..." Anika gulped. "Look, the real reason I called is because I feel alone. I don't have anyone and you're the only person who I'd be willing to talk to. I don't exactly have any friends." She looked down at her lap.

The Harbinger sighed. "It'll be alright. I'm sure it won't be as bad as you think. Just go, keep an eye on your parents and make sure to get as much info as you can. I know this is frustrating but push through it." This brought tears to Anika's eyes as he continued. "If you feel like you can talk to me, you can. You have allies on your side, and you are not alone. Alright?"

Anika wiped her cheeks and nodded. "Oui." She gulped. "Merci."

His gruff voice replied. "Of course. When do you leave?"

"Well—" She cleared her throat to compose herself. "The gala starts at 7 and my parents like to be fashionably late so slightly after 7."

"Then you have until then to put yourself together. You're a strong woman and I know you know this. Just be yourself." The Harbinger was very motivating. Anika didn't expect this from him.

Anika was about to answer but there were footsteps coming towards her bedroom. She lowered her voice. "I need to go. Someone is coming in."

"Go ahead. I will see you when I see you."

The line went dead, and Anika put her phone back into her pocket before whoever it was walked in. As the door opened, it was her mother. "I want to ask you, how was your lunch with the Marquis?"

That was random. Anika cleared her throat. "It was good. He took me to a favourite restaurant of his." That was a complete lie. "I had fun."

"And why did he ask you?" Valerie closed the door and stood with her arms crossed, giving her daughter a pointed look. "Was that the letter you got?"

Anika hummed with a nod. Her mother would not let up. She walked over to the dress on the chair and moved it so she could lay it on her bed. "Oui. He invited me out. I don't know why but again, it was nice, mother." Anika smiled nicely at her even though it was fake.

"I see." God, that passive-aggressive voice of hers frustrated Anika to no end. "Well, good."

And with that, Valerie Dupont walked out of the room, closing the door quite loudly. Anika sighed and turned her head to look at the dress. She was dreading the evening ahead. Completely. Christ, she really needed a cigarette.

___________

ANIKA fidgeted in the dress as she fixed it. It was comfortable but she didn't feel like herself in it. They had left the house at the time Anika said. Just a little bit after 7. The car was cramped as she sat beside her parents. It was a small car, and she was uncomfortable. When Valerie told Anika that everyone was going to be there, she wasn't being dramatic. The entrance of the hotel was packed with people. If everyone was going to be there, Anika wondered if the Marquis would be there. It did make sense because if she was there, he'd probably be there as well.

As the car was taken away, Anika fixed her hair and made sure it looked fine. Anika was once again, stuck in the middle of her parents. People looked their way and smiled. And none of the smiles were fake. They were all real and genuine. Anika felt uncomfortable as she was being looked at. They made it inside the hotel after they pushed past some people. The banquet room was beautiful, Anika had to give it that. This was one of the most expensive hotels in Paris.

The room was loud with light jazz playing in the background. There was a light slap on her shoulder. "Don't forget to smile." Valerie gave Anika a pointed look.

Anika smiled, but she wasn't happy about it. Her parents walked away from her and were probably going to chat with people they knew. Their "friends" if that's what you wanted to call them. Anika walked around, smiling nicely at people as she walked around. This smile was genuine. Carefully, she took a flute of fancy champagne from one of the trays being carried around, saying, "Thank you" to the woman who offered it to her. Anika stood in the corner as she looked around.

Anika spotted her parents and decided to walk up to them. They seemed to be in a deep conversation with a few people. She was there to eavesdrop and get information. Anika overheard them as she pretended to look at a piece of art in front of her. "The Marquis doesn't seem phased. If you ask me, his spot as Marquis as been taken for too long. He's doing his job for the High Table but to me it seems that someone needs to take his place. We've been saying this forever but well, the High Table thinks he's fitting for it."

Anika almost scoffed until her mother spotted her, calling her name. "Anika, come here, please."

Anika slowly walked over to her mother with a smile. "Yes, mother?"

"What are your thoughts about the Marquis?" Valerie Dupont waited for answer.

Anika smiled. "I think he's doing a great job. I mean, the High Table wouldn't have picked him if he wasn't doing something right. That's why no one wants to overthrow him." Anika shrugged. They'd really chew on their words soon enough.

Her mother stayed quiet and those who she was speaking to looked at each other, agreeing with Anika's words. This made her almost smirk in triumph. Of course, her mother wasn't happy with her words, but she pretended to be. "Anika is very educated in things like this." She sounded passive-aggressive as she always did. "It's admirable."

Anika smiled towards Valerie. "Thank you, mother."

Valerie Dupont gave her a discreet glare. Anika ignored her and spotted her father talking to a group of men. Anika shook her head and quietly sipped her champagne. At some point, the room became louder. Louder than before. Anika looked towards the direction of the yelling and the sound of clicking cameras. Anika almost spit out her champagne as she saw the Marquis De Gramont. All the ladies wanted to get his attention but he ignored them, just giving them kind smiles as he passed them.

Her mother had even gotten silent too. Anika tried her best to not let her jaw drop. The Marquis wore a dark navy-blue suit. His waist coat was glittering. The usual pin he always had was on his lapel. His hair was styled to perfection with not one hair out of place. There was also a ring adorning his finger. Anika also spotted Chidi and another one of his guards behind him. Anika could just feel the anger radiating off her mother. It pleased her.

Anika kept watching him as he made his way over to the same group of men her father was in. Anika was still shocked until her mother hit her arm. This snapped Anika out of it quickly. She turned back around and listened to her mom drone on about how dramatic his entrance was. Anika thought the same thing but in a good way. Perhaps it was her mother who was the dramatic one. Without even thinking, her eyes slid over to him once in awhile as he was still in her fathers' group. They seemed to be civil with one another as they spoke which was a good thing, but they were also in public. It was definitely an act. Anika really couldn't help herself as she looked at him. He hadn't spotted her yet, but he knew she was there. If her father was there, she was too.

He hadn't come to seek her out or look for her, so she just stayed in place beside her mother. But Anika grew bored. She quietly snuck away from her mother the best she could. Thankfully, she succeeded in sneaking away. Anika scaled the walls of the room, and her eyes never left him once. Maybe if she kept looking, he'd feel it. As the approached the food table, a pair of shoes were in her field of view. As she looked up, it was just Chidi. "Evening, little lady."

Anika chuckled all while shaking her head. "Bonne soiree, Chidi. (Good evening, Chidi)

He nodded at her. "I'm surprised to see you here."

Anika raised a questioning brow. "Are you really?"

"No." Chidi chuckled. "Not surprised at all." He then nodded over to the Marquis. "He just wanted me to go find you and well, here you are. He wants to talk to you."

Anika nodded. "Yeah, I guessed so."

There was silence between them until he spoke to her again. "I'll see you later. And, hey, nice hair." Chidi smiled. "I like that change."

Anika smiled happily at him. She was glad somebody liked it. "Thank you, Chidi. I'll see you later."

As Chidi walked away, Anika took a sip of the champagne in her glass. She stood at the table while looking around once again. She caught herself looking over at the Marquis again and to her surprise, he was looking at her too. They caught each others gaze as he chatted with one of the men. After a few seconds, he looked back at him. Anika turned to look the other way; her cheeks were covered in a blush.

As she walked in the other direction to look at another piece of art, someone had walked up beside her. She had a feeling she knew who it was. He was quick on his feet. "You remember what I told you, yes?"

Anika slowly looked up at him. "Every painting shows what the artist was feeling at the time of the creation." I remember. I can't really tell with this one though." She looked back at the painting. "But it is interesting."

The Marquis studied the painting with her. "I was expecting you to be here. I wasn't expecting anything else." He now looked around the room as he spoke, spotting her parents together again and whispering to each other. "I'm surprised your parents aren't guarding you."

Anika looked at them with him. "I snuck away from the grip of my mother's well manicured claws." She clenched her jaw. "She was talking about you. She basically said that you've been in the spot long enough and she wants it." Her accent got more defined as she spoke with annoyance.

The Marquis hummed while still studying the parents. "Yes, well, it didn't quite work out well for them the last few times." He put his hands into the pockets of his pants, standing up straight. "Anything else?"

Anika shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. You understand why were here, correct?" She looked at him with a raised brow.

"Hm, yes. I do." He looked at her with curiosity.

"Yes? Good. My parents are also here to rob people of their money. This is money that's going to those who really need it. But they have ways of getting it. We don't get any money in an honest way." Anika spoke angrily. "You can tell she's looking at me while talking to her "friends." She's showing me off, once again. De toute façon (Anyhow), they're more like her employees, really. She's the Vice-President of some big corporate company. It isn't an honest one either, and that's obvious. Exposing them is a whole different story."

The Marquis looked down at her with curiosity. He knew the Dupont's had something to do with one company, but he didn't know Valerie Dupont was the Vice-President. "Thank you for informing me." He was going to use this.

"You didn't know this?" She crossed her arms.

"Non—" The Marquis cut himself off. Her focused on her hair. He knew something was different. "Your hair."

"Oh." Anika chuckled, brushing her hair out of her face. She decided to switch to French. She only did this because she wanted to hear him speak French again. "J'avais besoin d'un changement." (I needed a change) Anika shrugged her shoulders. "La blonde ne me ressemblait plus." (The blonde didn't seem like me anymore)

The Marquis nodded at her. "Eh bien, ça te va bien." (It does suit you well)

Anika smiled at him and took another look around the room. She noticed some people whispering about them in hushed whispers but they both ignored them. "Are they still looking at me? My parents?"

The Marquis looked in their direction and he saw them look away when he spotted them. "Oui, they were. Have they ever mentioned if they're frightened of me?"

Anika looked at him with confusion. "Not directly. They talk about trying to overthrow you but I don't think they'll do anything with the words they speak. They do talk awfully about you but they're cowards."

The Marquis hummed. As he looked down at Anika, he held out his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

Anika looked at his hand like it was a foreign thing. And it was. No one had asked her to dance before. They were too scared of her parents, but this was the Marquis. He was different. Way different. Anika carefully slipped her hand into his and he guided her to the dance floor. Thank God her mother forced her to learn ballroom dancing when she was younger.

The Marquis took her right hand and put his other hand on her waist. Anika took her left hand and placed it on his shoulder. He led them around the dance floor. Anika had never been this close to a man before. It was the first time and now that Anika thought about it, she'd never really danced with someone before. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was very nice. They didn't make direct eye contact and instead, looked around the room as they danced.

It was obvious to her that everyone was staring at them and she felt like cowering away from the world. But she didn't. Because fuck that. Instead, she took pride in this. Anika Dupont was dancing with the Marquis himself. It didn't feel real. As Anika looked around, her voice was low so only he could hear. She spoke in French instead of English. "J'ai été curieux. As-tu envoyé Chidi pour surveiller ma maison?" (I've been curious. Have you been sending Chidi to watch my home?)

The Marquis finally looked down at her. Anika felt his gaze on her, so she looked at him shyly. They both made eye contact which made her cheeks go red but she pushed it down. He looked away as he spoke. "Pourquoi demandez-vous?" (Why do you ask?)

Anika still looked at him even though he was looking away. "Parce que j'ai vu une voiture surveiller ma maison? Ça avait l'air cher et je ne connais pas beaucoup de gens avec des voitures de luxe." (Because I've seen a car watching my house? It looked expensive and I don't know many people with fancy cars)

It was a few seconds before he looked down at her again. He studied her face before nodding which answered her curiosities. "Oui. Je l'ai fait. Je sais que tes parents ne sont pas bons. Je ne l'ai pas envoyé là-bas pour t'espionner. Je l'ai envoyé là-bas pour s'assurer que tu étais en sécurité. Je ne les laisserai pas mettre la main sur toi." (Yes. I did. I know your parents aren't good ones. I didn't send him there to spy on you. I sent him there to make sure you were safe. I won't let them lay their hands on you) The Marquis thought for a moment and looked at her with curiosity. "Si ça te met mal à l'aise de toute façon, je comprends. Je peux arrêter de l'envoyer si tu veux." (If it makes you uncomfortable in anyway, I understand. I can stop sending him if you'd like)

Anika wasn't used to the kindness he gave her. Her parents did keep her shielded from everything. That's why she didn't have many friends but as he waited for an answer, she gave him one. She stuttered at the beginning. "Ça ne me dérange pas. Je te remercie vraiment. Cela me rassure. Si c'était quelqu'un d'autre que Chidi, je dirais non, mais je te fais confiance et je lui fais confiance." (I don't mind. I really do thank you. It makes me feel more safe. If it was anyone but Chidi, I'd say no, but I trust you and I trust him)

The Marquis gave her a short nod telling her, "You're welcome." He then spoke more seriously. Anika knew he was a serious man. The kindness and casual conversation once in awhile was very, very nice though. As long as it could stay like that sometimes. He spoke in English, his voice quiet. "Chidi will pick you up on Friday from your home. The Harbinger will correspond with you on Thursday for a time agreement. There's a café he conducts his meeting. A café owned by the Paris Continental, so it will be safe for you. Yes?"

Anika nodded in agreement. "Yes." As the song ended (which Anika wished it didn't) they pulled away from each other. The Marquis pressed his lips to her hand which had some onlookers gasping. Anika wasn't used to these actions. Now, she wasn't innocent by any means but when he did this, it genuinely shocked her. "Thank you for the dance."

The Marquis shook his head. "Non. Merci pour cette opportunité. Malheureusement, Mademoiselle, je dois partir. J'ai des affaires importantes au Paris Continental. Mais je vous verrai vendredi." (No. Thank you for the opportunity. Unfortunately, Miss, I must leave. I have important business at the Paris Continental. But I shall see you on Friday)

Anika nodded with understand. "Of course. Au revoir, Marquis."

The Marquis watched as she turned away from him but he called out to her again. "Anika?"

Anika turned around and walked towards him again. "Oui?"

He took her hand as a kind gesture. "If you would like to call me, feel free. If it is an emergency. If you would like to speak, don't be afraid to call. Of course, I might not answer all the time as I might be busy so I must warn you."

Anika shook her head at him. "You're a busy man, Monsieur Marquis De Gramont." She said this in a teasing way as she smirked. "Thank you. Again. And goodbye.''

As she walked away, The Marquis watched her go back to her mother who dragged her by the arm to speak with her. That woman got on his nerves. He rounded up Chidi and his other guard who followed out behind him. As he walked out of the banquet hall, he spotted Valerie Dupont giving Anika a stern lecture, and he could tell she wasn't listening. They made eye contact and she smirked at him.

Anika nodded as her mother was speaking. "Okay, I understand. I promise, mother."

Valerie sighed to herself. "Good. Do not, by any means, get further involved with him."

"I promise, Mama." Anika gave her mother a fake smile. If only her mother knew how much she was involved with the Marquis already. Valerie Dupont would have a heart-attack, but Anika wouldn't exactly be opposed to that.

___________

a/n: hey, guys! this was kinda late but here's chapter two! i'm really, really excited to write for anika and the harbinger. they're going to have a strong father/daughter relationship and he kinda becomes the father she never had so i'm excited to expand on that! it's gonna be very wholesome. anyway, i hope you guys enjoyed!! <33 see you next time

next chapter...

[honeysidesarchived]

WHERE THERE IS NO TEMPTATION, THERE IS NO GLORY.

⊱ a santino d'antonio / oc short-fic

interlude ii ( read on ao3 ) ( masterlist )

words: 2.4k

warnings: none really! just an impending, pervasive sense of doom.

rating: m/t

notes: so happy to have finally gotten this little interlude edited and pieced together! just more soft moments because they deserve it considering what's going to be coming up. thank you everyone who has been reading/interacting with this little love project of mine; it took a minute to get myself dug out of the trenches and posting bite-sized chapters because this is a short-fic is definitely doing something to me (lmao) but we're here!

as always you can find translations on ao3, where it's easier to store them in a place that doesn't get in the way.

There is very little time between when Santino cooks her dinner and when he moves her into his apartment. It happens without much acknowledgment from her; she finds herself swallowed up in moments of casual intimacy that break her down to nothing except a girl in love.

Santino wakes her up by kissing her neck and pulling her against his chest; she makes him dinner barefoot in the kitchen, all of the recipes that her mother taught her, and he drags his hand along her hip to reach over her into the cupboard; he stands still and obedient while Euphemia slides his tie into place, and when he zips her dress for her, he peppers her shoulder with kisses. He tolerates taking a walk through the park, even in the chilliness of late Fall or Winter, because Euphie can’t stand to not get some fresh air once a day. When one of her friends asks why he lets her bully him into the cold weather, he wraps his arms around Euphie with a sly smile and says, “How could I not, when I am the one who gets to warm her up after?”

He is an exceptionally tactile man. There is always a reason for him to touch her, trace each line of her, put his lips against her skin. Santi isn’t a man who loves; he covets. And Euphemia shouldn’t like it as much as she does, but she does. Her therapist says that it isn’t uncommon for a girl who grows up without touching to crave it, desperately, like an addiction.

So, she finds herself living in his loft to feed that addiction—which becomes their loft—and teaching him words in French, and feeding him olives while sauce simmers (and does not boil), and kissing the red-wine taste from his lips. It’s all very romantic and greatly overshadows the moments where Santino comes home raging mad, or when his bad mood takes over their conversation and stirs a fight between them. They’re both hot-headed—her more so than he—and he knows all of the ways to diffuse her while she knows none about him.

But it doesn’t matter, in the end; because Santino always kisses her, and always says, Mi dispiace, cara mi, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo, lip-locking between each break in words until her lungs ache.

Euphie has never wanted to be loved sensibly, anyway.

Making money stops becoming an issue. Santino might have been fine letting her wrap up her loose ends, so to speak, encourages her, even—“You should never leave business undone, my Euphie,”—but he’d never tolerate her continuing to skim out of the pockets of his associates. Not out of respect for them, of course, but because Santino is more than happy to provide.

“I have to do something,” Euphie insists, often. But Santino clicks his tongue and shakes his head, inspiring indignation in her. “That money goes to my mother, Santi.”

“Princesa, what are you worrying for?” He replies every time. In this instance, he is reading over some documents, his voice casual, simple, effective at bringing her to heel. “If your mama needs money, she’ll get it. Tutto quello che vuoi è tuo.”

Euphemia used to think that he was doing it to be generous, but as time goes on, she knows that isn’t the case. If Santino didn’t think he was benefitting from sending her mother money every month, he wouldn’t do it: but he does. Euphemia stops playing at arm candy for other powerful men; he endears himself to her by taking care of her mother; he endears himself to her mother; he’s afforded a sense of control. There is no facet of it where he isn’t getting something out of it. And she thinks, too, that maybe Santino likes it like this, where she is completely reliant on him for everything.

She doesn’t mind so much.

She would, if Santino didn’t drench her in his longing, if he didn’t make her feel, every day, that he is desperate to treasure her. She has always heard about this kind of love—and it is love—and never thought she would have it for herself.

But she does now, and she doesn’t want to let it go.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Tea or coffee, mama?”

Santino is busying himself in the kitchen. They’ve been together for a little over a year now, and they’re on a tour of Italy—not for fun, necessarily, but for integration. They have just spent the last week with Santino’s father and sister, and now they will spend the next two days in the Tuscan countryside with her mother.

Two days for her mother, instead of the week that they gave Santino’s father and sister, in part because his father deserves more time and in part because Euphemia doesn’t think she can tolerate her mother in much more than two-day increments.

“Coffee, please,” her mother says, very charmed by Santino.

“Tea,” Euphemia interjects. She looks at her mother—her face is tired, and older than she really is. Euphie knows that this is a side effect of heavy, abusive drinking and years spent in emotional terror, not the passage of time. Still, she finds it hard to drum up anything except distant pity in her heart. “You don’t need the caffeine.”

“Oh, you always ruin my fun.”

Santino re-enters the room with a small cup—it’s an espresso cup, but he’s poured it with regular coffee.

“A compromise,” Santi explains, handing the cup to her mother, smiling handsomely. “To make both of my girls happy.”

Her mother preens, glows under the affection. “You are so sweet, Santi. A perfect son-in-law.”

He has always called her and her mother his girls. His own mother had passed since before Euphemia; and while he knows that Euphie’s relationship with her mother is strained at best, he does what he can to ease it. Because it makes her happy, he says, and if she’s happy, he’s happy.

“Not yet a son-in-law,” Euphie corrects, and Santino flashes her a quick, amused little smile.

“You see how cruel she is to me, madonna? I have asked her to marry me, you know.”

“Santi,” Euphemia sighs, but it has had its desired effect; her mother looks scandalized, mortified at her daughter’s resistance to marrying a man as good and handsome and charming as Santino.

“Effie, tell me that you haven’t been bullying Santino like this?”

“Mama, there is no reason—he is just teasing. Ascoltami, you don’t need to look so horrified.”

“I do not know where I went wrong with you, Euphemia Sancia.” Her mother clicks her tongue, muttering something under her breath and taking a drink of the coffee Santi made her, and Euphemia can’t bring herself to say that not everything she has done wrong in her life is a slight against her mother’s parenting skills.

Santino smiles and leans across to Euphie, bringing her hand up to kiss it.

“Don’t worry,” he says to her mother, his voice blooming with practiced warmth. “I will ask her as many times as it takes for her to say yes.”

Euphemia feels her heart stutter painfully in her chest. She knows that he means it; he’s suggested it to her three times, now. It seems to be the only thing he doesn’t mind asking more than once.

“She’s always been fussy, my Euphemia,” her mother says, breaking the magic of Santino’s eyes on her. “Never happy with what she has, just like her father. Except for you, Santi—you are the only thing she holds onto.”

Exasperation and disgust flood over her. Both the mention of the man considered to be her father and any similarities they might share has her mood souring. “Mama—”

But Santino is sweeping in, like he always does when he can tell Euphie is getting tired of her mother, coming to a stand and asking her, “We should get started on dinner, cara mia, don’t you think?”

Just like that, he’s taken control of the conversation again. He sees her flailing and steadies her. Euphemia is certain that he doesn’t love her mother—that he doesn’t even like her—but that he can spend his time tolerating her with charm and grace despite knowing what her mother allowed to go on under their roof is indicative of the man that Santino is.

“Yes,” she replies, standing as well. “You look tired, mama. Take a rest while Santi and I make dinner.”

She wanders into the kitchen with Santino trailing after her. As soon as they’re alone, he winds his arms around her waist and kisses the juncture between her shoulder and neck.

“Is it true?” he asks coyly. “That you don’t hold on to anything except for me?”

She doesn’t want to tell him very much, because he knows already, and because to say it out loud will give it legs. A year together, and she still doesn’t want her feelings for him to have legs. Santino splays his fingers against her sternum and kisses her jaw.

“You know that it is,” she says at last, her voice a little unsteady. She can feel Santi smiling against her skin.

“Euphie,” he purrs, “marry me.”

Yes, she wants to say, as her eyes flutter shut. Yes, I’ll marry you, Santi. Anything that you ask. I’ll do anything for you, if you would just keep saying my name like that.

She wants to say it but the words won't come out. There is nothing quite like the feeling of Santino peeling back each individual layer of her defenses, piece by piece; so close, she knows, he is so close, but not quite. Not yet. She is most comfortable keeping him at arm’s length as much as possible—to kiss and to fuck and to let someone hold you at night is one thing. To let someone in past the barbed-wire of defenses is yet another, impossibly reckless. To be seen feeling anything deranges you, as the poets like to say.

“Sancia, hm?” he continues instead, when she can’t bring herself to answer, as the words stick in her throat. It’s one of those things where Santino seems to exercise a surprising amount of patience, this whole ordeal of to marry or not to marry; later, Euphemia will come to understand that it is because Santino believes their life together to be inevitable, that she will always say yes to him, one way or another.

For now, she turns in his arms, cocking a brow at him. He continues, “It means sacred.”

Euphemia nods sagely and props herself up on the counter. “Buon ascolto, my love. I suppose that means you should work very hard to worship me well.”

Santino laughs. He leans in, trapping her against the counter—though it isn’t much of a trap if she’s a willing participant—and noses the slope of her jaw.

“Yes,” he murmurs, “I suppose that it does.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

On the last leg of their tour of families, Santino insists that they spend a few days in Rome by themselves.

The days are used mostly for doing a lot of nothing; neither of them are particularly interested in sight-seeing, but rather interested in seeing each other, a thing which they don’t seem to tire of particularly quickly. Instead, they shop, or lay in bed together until the afternoon, or go out to eat when street lights kick on and the city takes on a life of its own.

“You are much happier, Euphie,” Santino says one evening, smoothing out his napkin on the table absently, “when you are not around your mother.”

It’s not a question, per se, though she knows that he expects an answer. But she is still young and a little petulant, and she likes to push his buttons and make him say exactly what it is he means, so she takes a sip of her wine and replies, “Yes.”

He arches a brow at her. He looks particularly handsome like this, she thinks—not around his family, just eating dinner in a streetside restaurant in Rome, illuminated in warm candlelight and the glow of the streetlights outside.

“Are you going to tell me why?” he asks, amusedly.

“If you ask.” Euphemia sets her wine glass down on the table, and when Santino reaches for her hand, she lets him take it, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “But it is so boring, Santi, to talk about my mother. Why don’t you ask me about something else?”

The brunette’s mouth is curving in a little smile. “Like…?”

“Like…” Euphie gestures with her free hand, like she has to really think about it. “Euphie, how did I get so lucky to have a woman like you? That is a good place to start. Or, what will you do with me once you get me back to the hotel? Or, Euphie, will I ever be so fortunate as to call you my wife?”

Santino laughs, leaning into their conversation, bringing her fingers up to kiss them. He has long lashes; soft, and dark, and they brush the tops of his cheekbones when his eyes close. Santino glances from her fingers up to her, that boyish grin on his face.

“I already know the answers to the first and last question,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal, but he’s grinning wickedly at her when he says it. She scoffs.

“Dimme poi,” Euphie insists. “I am dying to know, Santi.”

His expression is very sage, very wise, and he nods his head. “Il destino,” he says, winding their fingers together, “e tra un anno.”

There is something very heart-stopping about the way Santino articulates il destino, as though it is fact, as though there is something undeniable about their coming together.

“How do you know?” she asks. “In a year?”

“Because if you do not want to marry me by then,” Santino replies matter-of-factly, “then I am certainly not suited for marriage at all.”

She rolls her eyes, taking a drink of her wine and savoring the way his eyes trail over her, admiring, drinking her in.

“Well?” he prompts. She looks at him expectantly, and he reiterates, his gaze set on her, “What will you do with me once you get me back to the hotel, belladonna?”

Euphemia feels her heart stutter painfully in her chest when he looks at her like that; like she is the only person in the entire universe, like she has become the sun that snags him in her planetary pull, like he will never, ever grow tired of looking at her. It sweeps the breath out of her.

“Anything, mio amato,” she murmurs. “Anything you want, if you promise to never stop looking at me like that.”

[the-iron-lion]

The Dawn Through the Black-lined Window - Chapter 7

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31963981/chapters/85166494

Warning: Violence

Ezra goes to say goodbye, but it’s far more painful than she expected. (i.e. Ezra vs Zevran)

Big thanks as always to my lovely supporters! @heniareth​ you honestly help me so much with your support I cannot thank you enough.