#oh my god helen wick

[feinv]

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

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

Im going to go eat drywall

-H

dom!john wick x fem!reader. fingering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[beansricejc]

John Wick x F!Reader: The Lurking Wolf

summary: stalker!JW finds you oh so fascinating. kind of a mesh of headcanons/one shot.

warnings: stalking, p in v descriptions, implied (potentially) noncon, male masterbation, unsolicited photography, murder fantasy, physical assault, mugging, general violence, cursing, bondage references, female reader (no use of y/n).

not proofread! uploading this at 12:15 am, so I’m def half asleep. pls enjoy.

the first time he saw you, it was a complete mistake. you were both at the New York City Trader Joe’s, which in itself is one of the busiest buildings in the damn neighborhood.

you’re walking out of the checkout line, reusable bag in hand full of wine and nice cheese for your friend’s dinner party that evening.

crash! a huge body slams into you, as the bigger person was in a rush, you drop your bag, and on instinct a pair of arms catch it for you before it hits the laminate floor.

his forearms are toned and tan, with his veins swelling under his muscular flesh. you even notice a pattern of multicolored bruises scattered on his brawny limbs. large hands grip the bottom of the bag, and a soft grunt escapes his lips from above you.

the scent of a car shop, aftershave, and few other things enter your nose while this is going on. it must be what this man smells like.

“oh, I’m sorry!” you apologize. you don’t know why you apologize, it’s certainly not your fault, it’s actually his, he was in a rush and wasn’t looking out for you. maybe it’s your anxiety spiking because you avoid confrontation, and John spots this out instantaneously.

your head tilts up to look at the accident prone man. unbeknownst to you, he’s the world’s most lethal weapon. of course you don’t know that, you just get lost in his deep brown eyes for a few seconds before laughing and flashing an awkward smile.

but John can’t keep his eyes off of you. he scanned your entire being, your figure, your pretty face. he snaps out of it when you apologize to him.

“no, it’s my fault. sorry about that.” his grumbly voice says to you while he hands you the tote bag. he clears his throat, and you take your bag back. you give him that nervous pressed lip smile that you give everyone, nod your head before you turn to leave the building.

you’ve made it a few blocks but you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you. your cute little head has even whipped around your peripheral view a few times just to be sure.

you shrug the feeling off as your anxiety spiking from that grocery store encounter. naturally, you have no idea of the creature that’s following you back to your small Brooklyn apartment.

-

to John, you’re the embodiment of perfection. an angel on earth. every time he watches you from a suitable distance, there’s a tingly feeling in his chest and stomach. he doesn’t know what this is. he’s never felt this way about a woman (not even Helen herself, god rest her soul).

he’s even brought his camera he only uses for his targets whenever he comes to see you. he’ll wait in his black muscle car, right when your delicate hands open your bedroom curtains to let in the morning sunshine.

John gets to work. Pointing the lens at just the right angle, from when you reach on your tip toes to open window, giving John the perfect view of your well shaped hips and thighs.

he snaps a few more pictures and he can even spot some blue cotton panties that are revealed by your oversized shirt being a bit disheveled.

the blood rushes to his cock, and has to bite his lip to try to stop the feeling. it doesn’t help.

-

over the past few months of following you around, he’s come to realize he’s never actually interacted with you besides for the grocery store incident. he’s gotta change that.

there’s been a reoccurring fantasy that has haunted John for the past few weeks. for you to be saved by him. for John to be your knight in shining armor.

the things he would do to feel your body pressed to his. to have his arms wrapped around you, cocooning you in a protective position from harm.

well, he’s paid someone to find out. mainly to figure out if you’re a fight or flight kind of gal. he’s expecting the first option.

he knows your thursday night routine. your 9:30 pm trip to the bodega two blocks from your apartment. John assumes you have the munchies from those really low dosage THC gummies you buy from your friend Sam every other month.

he knows a lot about you.

and he’s paid a low level lackey to shake you up a bit.

the bell rings when you open the door to the shop, the cashier waved to you and greets you. you’re on a first name basis. John knows this, and the thought of you even speaking to another person of the male gender forces his blood to boil.

-

John has dreamt of putting his hands around the necks of the men in your life, besides for your step-father, and the nice old man at the local library you occasionally play chess with.

His strong hands would squeeze and squeeze as the men would gasp for air. With every blink of John’s eyes, the face would change. Your four ex boyfriends, your coworkers, your boss. The several guy friends you have in your big friend group. All of them, gurgling, gasping, choking. And then…

snap.

the hitman’s hands would finish the job. just another target. no, not just another target. a roadblock that has been demolished. one of the roadblocks, to you.

of course, John would wake up in a cold sweat, and for some reason, his dick would be completely erect from the images of taking the lives of the men you know.

his tip would be swollen and leaking of his precum. why was this the thing that made him the most hot and bothered?

the hands that have taken the lives of hundreds, gripping around his own girth and twisting, using his own arousal to lubricate it. but not too much, John prefers a decent amount of friction.

then his hand lurches up and down on his throbbing shaft. hips jerking forward. buck after buck. he’s picturing you, tied to his bedposts, legs spread wide.

the thought of thrusting his fat cock hard into you could make him finish if he’s not careful enough. but now? it’s coming in handy.

imagining the squelching noises from the sin you two are committing. damn near hearing your cries and whimpers, pleas of mercy, erupting from your lips, as your cunt quivers around his cock.

you’re taking him so well.

and oh, John’s letting you know.

“Good girl, how’s my princess feel?” he’d groan out, feeling how good your wetness is on his dick.

feeling you tighten whenever you’re close to climaxing.

but unfortunately, sometimes in these fantasies, they would go sideways, fast.

John’s eyes want to look at your chest and stomach, but he’s met with bloodied flesh. the crimson covers your soft torso, his hands, all the way up to your chest, which is bouncing with each needy thrust.

John’s head whipped to the side, realizing there were a few of your male friends, dead, on the bedroom floor, below you and John making love. was it love? or was it John getting his way?

with the cries of your duct taped muffled mouth, he couldn’t tell.

then John would break out of his dream, chest heaving up and down from the stimulation of the act.

“fuck…” John cursed, fist punching the bedside table. “I didn’t even cum.”

-

but here you were, back at the bodega late at night. you’re happily humming a song that you’ve been listening to a lot this month. John made a fake account, and followed you on Spotify.

cue that low level lackey we mentioned earlier. some gangster in his thirties, bald, with a goatee and big sunglasses.

you’re busy figuring out which Mexican soda you’d like. and tonight, you’ll be thanking your preference for that type of drink.

“gimme all your money, bitch! or you’re fuckin’ dead!” the lackey threatens with a nasty tone to his voice. you’re high but you jump, a gasp leaving your mouth.

“shit! okay.” you mumble, before a stupid idea comes to your head. it’s as if a little lightbulb turns on over your head, and your long eyelashes bat a few times.

“well!? wait are you waiting for?!” the goon asks, now finally pulling out his large firearm. of course it’s not loaded. he’s just been paid to play a part and scare you a bit.

you don’t wait.

John’s eyes widen as he watches from the bodega window, since your hand is reaching for the glass bottles of soda in the fridge.

his jaw drops when he sees your arm hurdles towards the goon. the bottle fractures right onto his pale bald head, the shards immediately exploding around you two, and also cutting into his scalp.

he’s bleeding everywhere. there’s even a few spurts of the soda and his blood on your face.

John has burst through the bodega entrance, as the guy he hired fell to the floor and covers his head from another attack.

and you’re still high as a kite during all of this, so you step back, and the bottom of your pink crocs slips on the cherry flavored Mexican coke that has splattered all over the hard floor.

so there you go, stumbling and making you body tumble backwards. cue Free Fallin’ by Tom Petty.

now, instead of your reusable tote, it’s you.

a pair of strong hands come into play. hands that have murdered, tortured, and paralyzed. the hands grab you by the waist, his grip is firm and safe, he’s got you.

John grits his teeth, moving ever so slightly to get a whiff of your hair. the scent of your coconut shampoo that you’ve bought on amazon a few times, make him go beserk. his heart faces, he swear he can feel every cell in his body stiffen up.

you’re facing away from him, he takes a quick peek at the back of your waist, up close and in person. now those dreams of pounding you from behind are slipping back into his head.

the moans, the slapping skin, the stench of sex in the air (which is just a mixture of cum, pussy, and sweat).

he has to use his fingers to dig into your sides a bit more just to force them away. he’s not sure if that even helps.

you catch your breath, trying to comprehend the events that are happening at the moment. unfortunately, you’re a bit foggy from being under the influence. the sting from John’s grasp is muted because of it.

but the scent of the man who caught you from behind is almost familiar. aftershave, oil, barbecue. that’s the exact same smell as…

“well hello again, sweetheart.”

…the guy at the grocery store.

————

tysm for reading! pls feel free to support with feedback, likes & reblogs! sorry for the different format, just been feeling a bit uninspired, and my summer is much busier than I thought it would be. love u all!

[owlbee-writing]

TheArchivist: my three archival assistants,

And yes, they smoke weed

Michael distortion: do they smoke weed?

TheArchivist: yes, actually.

Jane prentiss: You mean they aren’t just smoking cigarettes? But weed cigarettes?

TheArchivist: it’s called a bunt… not a weed cigarette… and yes, it’s a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we read statements. (They are my archival assistants.)

Helen distortion: they don’t look like they smoke weed

TheArchivist: Fuck You.

Fuck You.

Fuck You.

Fuck You.

Fuck You.

Fuck You.

Fuck You.

Fuck You.

Fuck You.

Fuck You.

Fuck You.

Fuck You.

I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking archival assistants are researching statements to calm me down I’m so mad.

Melanie: Your “weed smoking archival assistant” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on his belly. The one in the middle.

TheArchivist: I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Martin or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on him ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING

Basira: Well that escalated quickly……

TheArchivist: What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *martin grabs my shoulder* Come on Jon, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking his off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my archival assistants struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body*

Elias: haha oh my god

who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes.

love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE ARCHIVAL ASSISTANTS”, “THEY ALL RESEARCH STATEMENTS”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”.

and let’s not forget the “Martin” and his “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”.

“the goo pile that is now your body”

i’m dying over here, jesus

please, Jonathan, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun.

TheArchivist: *shoots you dead* Heh, idiot…

*leaves with my three weed smorking archival assistants to go hold hands and research statements.*

Daisy: this dude playin omg

TheArchivist: Come again? *The institute falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the institute is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you. I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Archivist publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Martin…. Sash-sasha… Tim… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see Beholding looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*

Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*

[googoobabajogwick]

A John Thanksgiving.

Words: 3176

John Wick x sibling! reader

Summary: Helen really wants John to invite some family over for Thanksgiving dinner with her family. Hard part is John doesn’t have any family, but he does have you and that’s the closest thing he’s got.

Warnings: weed smoking lol

John and Helen had been married for two years now. He had never been happier. Everything felt so perfect, so normal, so domestic. His wife knew little about his life before her but she still knew he was an ex assassin. It had taken a while for him to tell her but how could he not when they were planning their wedding.

Helen took it much better than expected, though she was mad he waited six months before the wedding. Her family, they were very judgemental. No matter how hard he tried John didn’t feel like he could be good enough in their eyes. He didn’t really care but family was important for her so he tried.

Thanksgiving was coming up and this year the two of them decided to host again. Last year, her family had made remarks on the lack of family on John’s side but he shut them down by saying they were busy. That was a lie. He didn’t have any family, not any he’d like them to meet at least. Yet Helen had asked once more,

“Are you sure? No friends or family you’d want to invite over?” She was careful with her words, John was a solitary man but he thought for her.

“I suppose there may be two people I could invite..” he scratched at his beard.

The way her eyes lit up made his heart soar. There was no way he could get out of this one.

That led him to where he was now. Old ass notebook with numbers important to him in it laid on his worktable. He hadn’t needed it since he retired but some people were in it he thought he’d ask. Those two people were you and Marcus. His two ‘best friends’ as Helen had put it after he explained your relationship.

Marcus was John’s first choice as he had met Helen at their wedding. He’d said yes the minute the words left the ex assassins mouth. A thanksgiving dinner at the wicks house? Now that was just too hard to pass up. The sniper asked his friend if he planned to invite anyone else and when he tossed the idea of inviting you, Marcus busted out with laughter.

“That’s a great idea!”

So here he was, dialing your number on his old rotary phone. It rang and rang to the point he thought you weren’t going to answer. He did feel a bit disappointed, it would be nice to see you and Helen would love to meet you again. Right as he was going to hang up when he heard you answer.

“Oh my God am I dreaming? Fuck you asshole! It’s been so long you haven’t called in months!” You shouted over the phone though he knew you were playing.

“Yeah, sorry I’ve been busy.” He grimaced over the phone, “I, uh, Helen wanted me to ask if you’d like to come to our thanksgiving dinner this year.”

John could hear you as you shuffled around on the phone and then the sound of papers being flipped. He rolled his eyes. You weren’t doing anything, he knew it. His foot tapped as you made him more and more impatient. He knew if you could see him you’d have a shit eating grin on your face.

“Hmmmmmmm.” You exaggerated,” I guess I could come. A little upset that it’s Helen who wants me to come and not even my own big brother though.”

The two of you weren’t brother and sister. He was starting to regret asking you. You were ten years younger than him, a baby found outside in the alleyway. People always made jokes that you two were like siblings and it was true. You teased him like crazy and he kept you out of trouble. When you were ten and he was twenty you’d bug him like an annoying little sister.

John’s punishments when he’d mess up or do something that pissed off The Director, were to help the younger kids learn to fight and shoot guns. You of course were a part of that group and although you annoyed the shit out of him, he was always softer with you. Even when you were fifteen and bit his leg.

“Please be normal. Her family doesn’t know, they are a bit-“ Pretentious, egotistical, snobby, stupid fucking assholes, “Judgy?” He was trying to be nice.

“HA! Me? Not normal, yeah right. See you on turkey day Johnny!”

You hung up and John stood there for a moment. This was a big mistake. Any other day he wouldn’t care. If it was a normal dinner that would be fine but he was really starting to think of the consequences of inviting you to a holiday dinner with Helen’s family. He took a deep breath.

Shit.

Helen, of course, was ecstatic to hear you were coming. You’d met her once and it was at their wedding. She thought you were hilarious and fun but her favorite part was when you’d share stupid stories about her husband. It was nice to hear about his youth as he was very private, only sharing what he thought was necessary.

She herself wished her family wasn’t so rude but she had hope that they would soften up someday. The long haired woman was hard at work in the kitchen with John as her helper. He was a very sweet husband who demanded she let him help. If she asked he would do it all himself. He kissed her cheek as he moved to get the turkey out of the oven.

Marcus was the first one to show up and was leaning against the kitchen island with a glass of wine in his hand. People were starting to arrive. John was thankful his mentor was good with people, already charming multiple of Helen’s female relatives. Everyone was intrigued by him, their in-laws' mysterious friend..

Then he heard it. John and Marcus locked eyes with each other. His friend smirked as your booming bass approached his home. Helen looked up wondering what that noise was but based on her husband’s face she knew exactly who it was. He should have invited Jimmy.

Before he knew it you were letting yourself in. Dressed in a sports jersey, sweatpants and a huge oversized zip up hoodie you called out for him.

“Hello! Jonathan, I'm here the party can officially start!” You belted out while shutting the door behind you.

When you turned to greet him you saw everyone staring at you. They were dressed in suits and dresses. Your mouth was agape. You were always super expressive and sometimes it got you in trouble. About to ask if you were in the wrong house John and Helen ran to greet you.

She was shocked as you grabbed her shoulders and left two big kisses on both cheeks. Then you hugged John hello while also scolding him for not telling you there was a specific attire, not that you cared. They introduced you to everyone before you found Marcus. He looked dashing as ever and you told him so.

Things were going very well so far. Helen’s family questioned you about your profession, finding it very odd when you told them you were a doctor. They believed a doctor would hold themselves to higher standards but you just laughed it off because you were the best of the best.

You didn’t get to see much of John as he was busy following his wife around, hosting the holiday. Your elbow hit Marcus’s arm. He looked at you and chuckled knowing exactly what you were hinting at. Your old friend looked so uncomfortable, not that anyone but you and the man next to you could tell. He leaned down so you could hear him.

“Like a lost puppy, look at him..” He shook his head and smirked.

“I want to say it’s sickening but, I actually find it pretty endearing. She’s a very nice woman.” You watched them.

“That she is, sweet too.” He agreed.

The two of you continued to catch up until the socializing became too much. You excused yourself and went out back to smoke. There would be no way you’d get through this without it. Although you hadn’t ever been to their house you made yourself at home. The cool breeze was welcoming compared to the stuffiness inside. You pulled the pre rolled joint out of your pocket and right as you were about to light it you heard someone clear their throat.

It was Helen. You felt a bit bad because you did pull out drugs on her property but she surprised you by sitting down across from you. She seemed a bit stressed but still smiled at you. You almost had the wind knocked out of you when she asked if you would share. In a way you felt guilty like you were a bad influence on the good kid but she was older than you and you were always told to respect your elders.

You lit the joint, taking the first hit and then handed it to her. She took a small hit and started coughing. You handed her your water and she took a sip before laughing. Your hand brought the joint up to your lip to take another inhale. This was top of the line shit, you hoped she would know that. The warm fuzzy feeling started to settle in your mind and you couldn’t help but laugh with her.

“God, I haven’t smoked in years!” She sounded excited.

The two of you spent the next few minutes in silence just passing the rolled joint back and forth. Half way through it though you started talking. Like weed tended to do, you talked about life and all that jazz until the topic of John came up. She told you she was so happy you came and that she knows he’s happy as well.

You were surprised he hadn’t followed her out here. Helen explained to you that as much as she loved her family she hated that they were so rude about her husband to him himself and her. Next year they wouldn’t host, she had enough of all the tension and how everyone getting along was all fake. You agreed with her and finished the joint.

“Tell me something about him that no one else knows.” She giggled behind her hand.

Helen felt like a teenage girl gossiping about her crush but she had to ask. You brought your finger up to rub at your chin as you thought. What’s something you could say that would shock her or embarrass John. You thought long and hard before the lightbulb went off in your head.

“John can dance. Specifically ballet.”

“No way.”

“Yeah way, he had to wear a tutu!”

“No I didn’t.” You jumped at the sound of his voice.

Damn how quiet he could be.

“I invite you to my house and you get my wife high?” John questions.

“You want some? I have another.” You went to pull it out but he put his hand out to let you know he was okay.

“Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy John.” She chastised him and you almost spit your drink out.

“Yeah John.”

“I came out here to tell you the food is almost ready, not to be ganged up on.”

The two of you laughed before Helen got up to go back inside saying she should probably go inside. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and disappeared into the house. You giggled while lighting up the second joint and he continued to stare at her.

“Did she just call you a fuddy-duddy?”

“Yes. Why what would you have said? Actually-“

“Lame, loser, boring…”

“-I don’t want to hear it.” You snickered and kept hitting the joint.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments before he let out a sigh. John needed the fresh air, though it might not be so fresh with you here smoking but it was better than in the house. He thanked you for coming and you reminded him that you were always only a phone call away, to which he responded that he knew.

It was nice seeing you, John thought to himself. For how annoying and crazy you could be, he’s glad he did it, and that Helen had pushed him too. He forgot how well you two got along even if he’d only seen you interact once. Meanwhile you were smacked. Maybe you shouldn’t have had that second one. You seemed to overdo it a lot.

Something about the way John was looking at you made you start giggling. When he gave you a confused look you just laughed harder. You were almost laying on the chair as you cackled. It was definitely the weed but you couldn’t breathe from how hard you were laughing. You flicked the roach at him but he dodged it.

“What are you laughing at?” His deadpanned voice made you laugh even harder, which seemed impossible.

“You. Man you’re making me laugh, go back inside! Your lover awaits you!”

John realized he wasn’t going to get anything of substance out of the conversation and got up to leave but not without a small chuckle. You were always so weird but you were still right. He knew Helen was waiting for him and that food was ready by now. You were still laughing as your friend told you to come in for food.

“Give me a minute!” You shooed him away.

*

The air in the house felt almost hot as it greeted you when you came inside. Everyone was sitting at the table staring at you as you made your way to your seat next to Marcus. You looked at them with a raised eyebrow. Jeez, Helen wasn’t joking. Her family did seem judgemental.

“And where were you?” One of the family members asked.

“I went for a walk.” Is all you said even if you wanted to jump over the table and strangle them.

“Smells like it…” Marcus snorted into his glass.

You gave him a light smack and started to fill your plate. The talk of people filled the table but all you could focus on was how good the food was. God damn, Helen was an amazing cook, you don’t think you’ve ever eaten something so good. You thought about how to everyone else you looked more like a hungry dog

devouring your food but you didn’t care.

When you looked up you were correct. Everyone was staring at you. Some in disgust, some in awe and some in confusion. If you looked closer you’d probably see John’s temple twitch at your actions. With slow movements you kept your eye on everyone while still shoving food into your mouth. Helen hid her smile behind her hand.

“What?” You asked with a mouth full of food.

“You say you’re a doctor?” One of the men asked.

You took a big sip of your wine, your mouth was starting to feel dry.

“Yup. One of the best, actually.” Pride, that’s what you felt.

“That’s hard to believe…”

You don’t know who said it but John noticed the way you gripped your knife in your hand. This needed to end now or you’d end it in ways he didn’t want to think about at a nice Thanksgiving dinner with his wife. You stared at the man, almost snarling at him.

“Well, believe what you want but I’ll let you know that I’ve been watching you all night. The way you move your arm I can tell your shoulder hurts you. Is it a torn rotator cuff? I’m willing to bet money on it. Also that your doctor sucks.” Your grip on the knife tightened at the idea of a good time.

“Why you little-“

“Okay! Okay! Let’s just eat. The food is great, let's just focus on the food.” John’s worried voice filled your ears.

The statement was directed more at you, not Helen’s family member. With a slight grumble you let go of the chokehold on your knife and began eating again. Just like that, the whole conversation never happened as you went back into your dream of amazing, sweet and savory food.

*

The night had ended and almost everyone had left. Marcus left right after dinner saying he had something to attend to. It was just you, John and Helen, and also her parents. You were laying on their couch before you realized that you should get going as well. Your bed was calling your name.

As you were getting ready her mother and father walked up to you. You were putting your coat on. Your face did not hide your confusion as to why they were approaching you. Was it because you threatened their nephew at dinner? Not your fault the man had to challenge your skills.

“So, you and John? You’re siblings?” The mom asked.

“Yes, he’s my big brother. He was in charge of me when we were younger.” You smiled.

“In charge?” The father trailed off.

John could feel your schemes in his bones and found you just in time to hear the conversation.

“No blood relation. She’s adopted.” Leave it to John to ruin everything.

“Um you were too! We had a very big family! That was poor.” John just whacked you upside the head when they looked away.

You rubbed the sore spot while grumbling. Asshole.

The parents looked at John and smiled at him and he had to take a second to believe he wasn’t seeing things. Helen’s parents always kept a distance and never, ever smiled at him. Not even at their wedding. It almost scared him.

“We had no idea you were a self made millionaire Jonathan. All while taking care of a sibling. Good job.” Her father put his hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

John just stood there with his mouth agape. Helen’s parents liked to pretend that he didn’t even exist and now they were smiling and praising him. After a few seconds he shut his mouth and nodded his head. Her parents went to talk to say their goodbyes and left you and him alone.

“Ah Jonathan you have to learn how to work those people. Rich folks, they love any story that fits their narrative. Poor orphan self made millionaire? How inspiring.” You mocked.

John let out a deep chuckle. You were always good at getting people to like you, even if you were annoying and crass. It made sense, you were very smart. You yawned and gave him a hug before he pulled away to open the door for you. You’d already said goodbye to Helen but you called out one more farewell and stepped outside.

“I better be coming back next year.” You laughed when John shut the door in your face.

Helen came up to him and wrapped her arms around him.

“She’s definitely coming back next year.”

He smiled.

“Yeah. She is.”

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Night Nurse - Ch 4

A John Wick x Helen Fic

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

IV.

He found Helen sitting in one of the comfy chairs, her elbows on her knees, and her chin cradled in her hands. She stared out at nothing; John knew she wasn’t really seeing the room. She was, most likely, seeing the outcome of what she’d just narrowly escaped. The thought made his blood boil. The temptation to march down to Mikhail’s room and waste the little fucker was real.

Making no sudden movements, he knelt beside her, careful not to touch her. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m pissed off.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. This was no smiling matter—but even now, her ferocity delighted him.

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t. You haven’t done anything wrong. You saved me, again. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She shook her head, clenching her fist against her mouth. He could see she was shaking. With fear, or anger, he really wasn’t sure. Both, perhaps, after what had happened. Most women would have broke down crying after such a scare. It was a completely valid reaction, but this woman…she got mad, and he didn’t know why that titillated him so.

He was hopeless.

“Just goes to prove no matter where you go, it’s never enough to be a woman just trying to do your job well. There’s always some asshole who wants to...”

She couldn’t bring herself to voice the rest. She didn’t have to.

John knew his expression reflected his murderous thoughts. “I promise, I won’t let them touch you. We will talk to Winston in the morning.”

“And what happens when I leave the Continental grounds?” she asked. “Are they going to be waiting for me, just to prove a point? I know men like that shit Mikhail. He’s like a child who can’t tolerate being told no.”

She was right, of course. She’d taken the exact measure of the Medvedev Bratva prince.

“God,” she sighed, sitting back in the chair. “This is just like the hospital. There was this asshole doctor…” She shook her head, gritting her teeth against some unpleasant memory. “Never mind.”

“Give me a name.”

“You can’t kill him, John.”

“Oh, I bet I could.”

“It wasn’t as bad as this. Forget it.”

“I won’t, but we can drop it, for now.”

He would be looking into the doctors she’d worked with in the past, but for now, they had a more immediate problem.

“Helen, do you know any self-defense?”

“I know some basics. Instep, eyes, throat, groin.” She punctuated her list with exaggerated karate chopping motions that he found highly adorable. “But there’s no way I could ever fight anyone like those two fucking guys. What do they weigh? Five hundred pounds in pure muscle?”

Though she mostly spoke without an accent, in moments like this John could hear Ireland via Boston in the cadence of her words. It was hopelessly endearing.

“I can teach you some things that would help you, even against them.”

She canted her head to look at him, and he could tell she was interested. “I believe you. Those guys looked like they might piss themselves when you walked out. Ok. That would be handy, I guess.”

“Are you…averse to learning how to use a gun?”

“I know how to use a gun.”

She really was perfect, he thought to himself. Absolutely fucking perfect.

“Do you carry?”

She shook her head. “My dad taught me how to use his Smith and Wesson .38. It was a lifetime ago. I don’t know about carrying a gun…I feel like I might be as likely to hurt myself or a bystander.”

“You just have to practice, and be careful. They don’t go off randomly. They really don’t.”

Her next sigh went on seemingly for hours.

Then, she laughed, scrubbing her face with her hands. “I don’t get it. What would that ridiculous young man even want with me? I am a mature woman pushing the far side of thirty.”

John bit the inside of his lip, warring with himself against stating the obvious, without sounding creepy. What was the most politic way of pointing out that she was fucking hot, age be damned? And, like so many in the cruel, male-dominated world of organized crime, Mikhail probably had his share of mommy issues.

Finally, he settled for, “I can’t fault his taste.”

She paused, clearly torn by his words. For not just hours ago, he had for all practical purposes, rejected her. 

He knew he was sending mixed signals. He didn't know how not to. She drew him like a moth to a flame. 

“When is your next day off?” 

“Tomorrow. Well. Today, I guess. I get off at 7am.”

“Alright. Then this is what I propose. You get some sleep. In the morning, we will talk to Winston. I want him to give you a panic button or something. Your phone was practically useless in that situation.” 

“Would he do that?”

“I don’t see why not. Maybe we live by the laws of the jungle out there, but in here, it’s the laws of the High Table. Doc doesn't have to deal with this shit. You shouldn't either.”

She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “Okay.”

“Then…” He looked up at her through his hair, and the sight grabbed her heart with a fist, squeezing painfully. This man. This fucking man, and his soulful looks, and his fathomless dark eyes. Seeing him on his knees before her did things to her insides, and she didn’t think there would ever come a time when he didn’t move her. She’d been hooked from the moment she set eyes on him. He would have this hold on her…probably until the day she died. He probably didn’t even know it either, she mused. He was very confident in his abilities to do his job. The rest…seemed a little shaky for him.

Then, anything you want, she thought to herself, though she at least had the self-respect not to say it aloud.

“Then, I want to teach you some things. Self-defense things,” he quickly added, as though he knew where her treacherous, exasperatingly hopeful, thoughts might lead.

So goddamn honorable.  

“Okay. Sure. Where?”

“My place?”

This intrigued her. She realized she never thought about John living somewhere else. When he wasn’t working, it seemed like he was always here at the Continental. Little did she know how much she had to do with that.

“I’m fine with that. Where do you live?” She imagined an apartment high above Manhattan.

“Over in Jersey.”

“Seriously?” She wasn’t sure why this amused her.

By the way he canted his head, he wasn’t either.

“Yeah. It’s set back in the woods. Private. It’s…quiet.”

She realized then that he was inviting her into his sanctuary. The place he went to get away from the city, and probably from the rigors of work too. She tried to put a cork in it, but that pesky warmth spread out from her heart to her bones.

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah.” He seemed to struggle with something for a few moments before adding, “I’ll cook for you. Do you like steak?”

Almost as though she was afraid of spooking The Boogeyman, as silly as that seemed, she nodded slowly. “I love steak.”

“Great. After I’m done training you, I’ll owe you dinner.”

Helen raised an eyebrow at that ominous statement. Maybe this wasn’t so much a date after all. What had she gotten herself into? She’d been asking herself that a lot lately. And except for her little misadventure with Mikhail, so far, she could say this was the most interesting her life had been…ever.

“You don’t owe me anything, John. But I appreciate you looking out for me. Thanks.”

She reached out to him, and without thinking he took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers between his own. He knew she was tough, but her slender fingers seemed so delicate in his calloused hand. So breakable. His thoughts strayed to Mikhail, the fucker, and what John had barely managed to head off in the hallway. She deserved so much better than that. She deserved better than him, better than all of this. Without thinking, he pressed his lips to her knuckles.

When Mikhail had kissed her hand it had been unsettling. A power play that left her with worms squirming in her guts. But John’s mouth on her hand sent a frisson of longing through her veins. He was so goddamn sincere. Please stop making me want you, she pleaded. Stop making me want you, if I can’t have you.

“You should get some rest,” he said, releasing her albeit reluctantly as he stood.  

“I feel bad, hiding in your room. My phone might go off if I’m needed, I'll wake you up.” 

“If you have to go treat someone, I'll go with you.”

“John...”

“I insist.”

He looked down with his hands in his pockets and those serious dark eyes boring into her, a look that brooked no argument. It wasn’t just the sight of him in his half-buttoned black shirt, a pale triangle of toned chest peeking through. It wasn’t those polished onyx eyes, or the high cheekbones that fashion models would have killed for. She just couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared so much about what happened to her. Someone who was an actual adult, who could influence the outcome of things in some way. It was a heady feeling, to say the least.

Why did he have to be so breathtaking?

She sighed.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“Something terrible, I assume.” The corner of his mouth ticked. Rolling her eyes, she stood from the chair, smacking his arm lightly. Out the corner of her eye, she noticed his smile widen. It warmed her heart.

Not so long ago, Winston had offered a coy observation, that John Wick was smiling more often these days. She hoped it was true.

As she kicked off her shoes she asked, “Is all this going to make a problem for you, John?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You don’t do work for the Medvedevs?”

“I contract with the Tarasov Bratva.” Essentially, he’d been sold to them by the Ruska Roma, when he was a fire-eyed young man becoming too difficult to control. The Director never admitted it, of course, but she’d decided to cut her losses before Jardani Jovanovich became a problem the Tarkovsky Theater couldn’t handle. He’d moved up the ranks since then, proving his worth in blood spilt. He couldn’t say he felt any true loyalty to the Tarasovs, but there was a code of respect that he did his best to follow. He wouldn’t stab Viggo in the back—unless the money was good enough.

That was the truest rule of their world.

“And how do the Tarasovs and Medvedevs get along?”

“Oh, they hate each other. Quietly, though. War is bad for business.”

Viggo had made his first fortune in the eighties running a gasoline racket that made him millions, though those days were long gone. Now he focused mostly on guns, gambling, and stolen cars. The Medvedevs seemed more inclined towards pleasures of the flesh, running clubs, drugs, and the inevitably associated skin trade of Eastern Bloc girls. Though misogyny ran rampant all across their world, it was little mystery why Mikhail viewed women the way he did.

Biting her lip, Helen nodded. John could practically hear the wheels in her frighteningly quick brain turning.

“This isn’t going to start a war, Helen. Surely not even Mikhail Ivanovich could be that stupid.”

Even as he said it, John wasn’t sure if he believed it. Like her namesake, at least to John, Helen was a woman worth going to war for. If the boy felt the same…there would be blood.

He didn’t need to scare her with that kind of speculation though. He kept his mouth shut.

When Helen noticed John preparing to lay out on the couch she sighed. “John…I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“I can sleep anywhere. Really.” Growing up in a Belarussian orphanage certainly made him appreciate a soft place to lay down, but the talent for being able to sleep on less than ideal surfaces had never left him. “You’ve had a night. Take the bed.”

She appreciated that he was sensitive to the possibility that she might not want to share a bed with a man, after what had nearly just happened to her. Was it insane, that it made her want him beside her all the more?

“I feel safe, with you.” For the momentarily pained expression that slipped before he schooled his features, she wasn’t sure she should have admitted that aloud. They had shared a bed that very first night in the Continental, talking until dawn about the High Table and the Underworld, and drifting off holding hands. It had been impossibly sweet, considering.

John had lost his heart to her that night. Heart and soul, falling so deeply in adoration that he knew he would never recover. It was the very reason he knew he couldn’t have her.

It could only end badly, for her, and he owed her better than that.

And yet, that devil on his shoulder whispered. And yet, maybe he hadn’t outright claimed her as his, but Igor and Alexei certainly planned to tell their boss that John Wick had made a prior claim. It was the only way they could stay out of trouble for failing to do the little bastard’s bidding. The gossip would spread like wildfire from there.

It was possible it was too late.

And if that was true…what did they have to lose?

Everything, still. Absolutely everything. Maybe if they could head off Mikhail’s bullshit, nip it in the bud, they could return to a state of normal. A state of safety, for Helen.

Dating him would not equal that, by a long shot.

“John?”

He realized he’d been standing there silently for nearly a minute, just looking at her. He was a man with iron self-control. It was the reason he was so good at what he did. Impulses were for lesser men. Impulses were what he preyed on when he hunted. But this woman…this woman. His will crumbled to dust in the face of those bright brown eyes looking upon him with longing for comfort.

“You’re sure?”

“So sure.”

She offered him a gentle smile, and it took everything not to fall to her feet and weep, or grab her up and kiss her, count her teeth and mark her skin with the fury of his desire, devour her with his lips until she forgot her own name, only that she was His.  

A weary groan escaped him as he lay down beside her.

It was not because his body hurt.

With the lights turned low, laying on her side facing him, she asked in a hushed tone, “John, why did you call Mikhail the bear cub?”

“Medvedev is a derivative of bear. Medved. They use it as their…sigil, I guess you could say. It’s supposed to strike fear in the hearts of their enemies.”

She didn’t miss the wry notes of mockery in the last sentence.

“Hmm. So John Wick isn’t afraid of bears. What’s your sigil then?”

He thought for a moment. Maybe others called him the Baba Yaga, but it wasn’t something he himself embraced. He didn’t really belong to the Tarasov clan. He didn’t claim the Ruska Romas either anymore, glad to be free of their cruelty, even if they made him into the man he was today. He was an orphan, a man alone. Until meeting Helen, he’d preferred it that way. “I don’t have one.”

He felt her reach out in the dark, her hand finding his, like it had that first night when he’d been shot and stabbed and she’d put all his pieces back together again. “We’ll just have to think about that.”

John snorted softly. He found it all rather silly, but if it meant something to her he wouldn’t shoot it down.

“What about you?”

She laughed quietly. She sounded sleepy, and soft, and he wanted to kiss her so badly.  “Maybe…a daisy. It’s my favorite flower.”

He felt himself smiling, more widely than he would have dared had the lights been on.

“Perfect.”

Not long after that he felt her relax, her breathing deepening as she fell into sleep. He remained vigil, listening to the sounds of the building, of the city, ready should something come. The world was changing; the old rules didn’t seem to mean what they once had. Was he becoming a bitter old man, griping about the youth of today and their lack of respect for the traditional ways?

There were things the new generation simply did not understand, born into their lives of luxury in this prosperous, oh so naïve country. They knew not what it was to see your breath in the cold inside your house, or to feel the grueling pain of your body eating itself out of hunger.

To have nothing, unless you took it with your own two hands.

That was what borne the Theives in Law of the old Soviet Union. It was a rebellion in a way, against Communism, and the corruption of the State. The Party took everything; the only way to have something for yourself was to steal it back. John understood this, had tasted that desperation as an orphan in one of the numerous institutions in Belarus, before the Ruska Roma took him in to mold for their own ends.

It was not their fault, really, that the next generation did not know the fear of the winter wolves howling just outside the door. Their fathers had bought comfort for their children with their blood and sweat and tears. It was what any parent wanted for their children; an easier life. A better life.

The American Dream—if only on the surface.

Yet rather than simply enjoy this bounty, live an easy life, go into legitimate business, they had to strut around, striving to prove their toughness and bravery, like cruelty was a badge to be worn like a designer insignia on one’s jacket. This was the thing John did not understand, and felt only contempt for when the young ones demanded the respect they had not themselves earned. They had not been forged in the old fires of the USSR, tempered by the constant hardships of life in the Soviet Union. One good hit, and they would crack like cheap steel.

Maybe John didn’t particularly want to start a war with Ivan Medvedev, but he would not hesitate to put Mikhail Ivanovich in his place, if the boy pushed any farther.

As he’d simultaneously hoped and feared, Helen shifted in her sleep, scooting closer into the shelter of his body. He did not have the strength to turn away, opening his arms to cradle her against him.

This soft miracle was a thing he did not take for granted. Pride was a fickle thing. Power too, was only fleeting. But this? A woman who truly saw you, and who still felt safe enough to grace you with the gift of her sleeping body in your arms?

This was worth burning a city down for.

<<Chapter 3 Chapter 5>>

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Hi ✨ you asked for asks soooo…what do you think Studio Ghibli style John Wick would be about? I imagine him having a magical adventure to bring Helen back from the afterlife, fighting all sorts of mysterious ghost creatures with Dog (and later ghost Daisy) at his side.

Oh my God, Whump, I need this. The High Table could be like some other hidden world corrupted by dark magic or something? Like in those dark fantasy au’s? Maybe he’s some form of the actual ~Boogeyman~ but there are other fairytale monsters as well. And he gets out of the other world to join the real one (now it’s like a Coraline situation I guess? 😂) because he falls in love with a human woman, but then the other realm takes her/kidnaps her soul as vengeance and he has to rescue her. This would be so cool!!!

[jennajaeger]

My general feelings on my F/Os' canon love interests and how I picture my dynamic with each of them:

Prince Eric (The Little Mermaid):

Eric is MY GUY. BESTIE. HIMBO EXTRAORDINAIRE. We high five each other as we pass each other in the hallway because we both have the best wife in the world. Literally the epitome of this meme:

Me: "The stars are so beautiful tonight."

Eric: "You know who else is beautiful?"

Both of us in unison: *sighing dreamily* "Ariel~"

Keyleth (Critical Role: The Legend of Vox Machina):

So admittedly I have not finished the series yet but as far as I can tell, Vax and Keyleth have a very "right person, wrong time" type of relationship? Like, I get it, they're always gonna love each other, they're just never going to be in a place where they can BE together? And I mean......that works for me :P I feel marginally bad about stealing her man because she's so sweet and deserves a break, precious bean, but if it works it works <3

Meryl Stryfe & Milly Thompson (Trigun Stampede):

I felt so bad the moment I started watching the show because I was like "oh god another female character I'm gonna have to throw under the bus in the name of self shipping" but honestly so far in the 23 version I read their dynamic as platonic?? And just in general, I love her <3 She's a tough little cookie; and I haven't properly met Milly yet but I just know I'm gonna love her :P girl frankly you deserve to have Nick maybe you'll mellow him out a little good heavens XD

Helen Wick (John Wick franchise):

I will always have a moment to pay homage to our lord and savior Helen Wick who died to give us the best action franchise of the modern age, girl you were a real one and rest easy knowing I am going to RIDE THE TRAUMA OUT OF YOUR HUSBAND

Tess Marshall (Barbarian):

SHE DESERVES S O MUCH BETTER OH MY GOD I mean they both do, they're stuck in this terrible movie :P In a better world I would love to be friends with Tess, and act as Keith's filter because good lord boy you're cute but you're dumb as fuck sometimes XD Also if I ever see Keith's ex-gf I'm throwing hands

Alt Cunningham & Rogue (Cyberpunk 2077):

god I'm glad these two are Johnny's exes XD I'm sure I would have liked Alt a lot more had I known her when she was, y'know, alive, but as a......tech ghost or whatever, she's not a lot of fun :P As for Rogue, she's a bitch, I KNOW she's a bitch, and I respect her for it. She DID stab Johnny in the back though and I'm not about to let her forget it.

Alys Rivers & Helaena Targaryen (House of the Dragon):

I haven't properly met Alys yet but I'm looking forward to it, I feel like I'm gonna like her :P And Helaena is A SWEETHEART, an absolute darling, I would love to sit with her and have tea while she does her embroidery and listen to her talk about anything that comes into her pretty little head because THE GODS KNOW SOMEONE HAS TO. I will also be her "dump your shitty husband" friend so fast XD Like, LOOK AT AEMOND. LOOK AT HIM. HE'S RIGHT THERE GIRL I WILL SHARE.

Anyone Dream has ever been romantically involved with and yes I'm including Hob Gadling (The Sandman):

I have nothing but love and respect for Dream's past partners (Calliope babe I'd die for you) and I just love the idea that we have like, dinner together and they all just spill the tea about the shit Dream got up to in past decades :P

Vision (Marvel Cinematic Universe):

I have no problems with Viz, he was a good man. Wanda really could have done BETTER in my opinion, but y'know, she could have done a lot worse too, so :P And thanks to Viz we have the boys, Billy and Tommy <3

Martin Blackwood (The Magnus Archives):

I don't hate Martin. He's a sweetheart. But I need him to not even BREATHE in Jon's direction, because that is MY MAN. Nothing personal :P

Mikasa Akerman (Attack On Titan):

I will meet that bitch in the FUCKING PIT IT IS ON S I G H T LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!!!!!!

[docrotten]

DOLLS (1987) – Episode 239 – Decades Of Horror 1980s

“Oh, my god. The girl was right. The little people, they’re f***ing dolls!” A society where men are incidental? Hmm. Humans could learn from cockroaches. Join your faithful Grue Crew – Chad Hunt, Bill Mulligan, Crystal Cleveland, and Jeff Mohr along with guest host effects artist Ralph Miller III – as they brave the phobia of many-a-folk in Stuart Gordon’s Dolls (1987).

Decades of Horror 1980s Episode 239 – Dolls (1987)

Join the Crew on the Gruesome Magazine YouTube channel! Subscribe today! And click the alert to get notified of new content! https://youtube.com/gruesomemagazine

Decades of Horror 1980s is partnering with the WICKED HORROR TV CHANNEL (https://wickedhorrortv.com/) which now includes video episodes of 1980s and is available on Roku, AppleTV, Amazon FireTV, AndroidTV, and its online website across all OTT platforms, as well as mobile, tablet, and desktop.

Five adults and a child are stranded in a storm and spend the night in the mansion of an elderly couple who are dollmakers. The little girl realizes they take wicked humans, miniaturize them, and turn them into dolls.

  Director: Stuart Gordon

Writer: Ed Naha

Cinematographer: Mac Ahlberg (director of photography)

Special Effects by: MMI (Mechanical and Makeup Imageries)

Special effects makeup designer & supervisor: John Carl Buechler

Chief makeup artist / Location Supervisor: Gabriel Bartalos

Special effects makeup assistants: Gino Crognale, Mitch Devane, William Forsche (as Bill Forsche), Ralph Miller III, Bryan Moore, John Vulich

Bear Fabricator: Helen Kinsey

Doll effects & stop motion effects: David Allen

Doll effects: John Brunner (as John K. Brunner), Vivian Brunner, Giancarlo Del Brocco

Selected Cast:

Ian Patrick Williams as David Bower

Carolyn Purdy-Gordon as Rosemary Bower

Carrie Lorraine as Judy Bower

Guy Rolfe as Gabriel Hartwicke

Hilary Mason as Hilary Hartwicke

Bunty Bailey as Isabel Prange

Cassie Stuart as Enid

Stephen Lee as Ralph Morris

The Grue-Crew and guest host effects artist Ralph Miller III (who worked on the film’s effects under the supervision of John Carl Buechler), take a look at the often overlooked Stuart Gordon film Dolls (1987). The film is produced by Brian Yuzna and Charles Band for Band’s Empire Pictures, and, wheeee, is this film a lot of fun! “They Walk. They Talk. They Kill.” And, the more the Dolls do so, the more entertaining it becomes. John Carl Buechler handles the special makeup effects and David Allen takes care of the stop-motion animation duties. If you haven’t seen this, isn’t the pic with the doll holding its own bloody eyeballs enough to entice you?

At the time of this writing, Dolls is available for streaming from Tubi, Pluto TV, Shudder, AMC+, and Amazon Prime. It is also available on physical media in Blu-ray as part of the 5-disc Arrow Video collection, “Enter the Video Store: Empire of Screams Collector’s Set,” along with The Dungeonmaster (1984), Cellar Dweller (1987), Robot Jox (1989), and Arena (1989).

Every two weeks, Gruesome Magazine’s Decades of Horror 1980s podcast will cover another horror film from the 1980s. The next episode’s film, chosen by Chad, will be Luther the Geek (1989). Well, it’s a movie.

Please let them know how they’re doing! They want to hear from you – the coolest, grooviest fans – so leave them a message or comment on the Gruesome Magazine Youtube channel, on the Gruesome Magazine website, or email the Decades of Horror 1980s podcast hosts at feedback@gruesomemagazine.com.

Check out this episode!

[mothedmanhandholder]

Wick! Wick, have you ever gone caving?

oh god no not like real caving the extent of my "caving" is like. walking through the very wide open ape caves up at mt st helens where there is zero risk of getting trapped cause you wiggled into a hole that was slightly too tight to get through

i love to explore a lot of dangerous places but you cannot get me to go caving

[feinv]

A) oh my god, blurb is so fucking tastie. Absolutely delicious, brain microwave.

B) uhhh, sure, H can stand for Helen… yeah. It’s me, Helen Wick, loving wife.

-H

is your husband single

[radioactive-earthshine]

 “i’m so hot..” “loving the confidence.” “oh shut up.” 

For Kon/Bart (Only if you're interested/up to it)

“Wasn’t hot-boxing supposed to be, I dunno fun?” breathed Bart as he felt sweat cloy on his forehead. “Helen said it was supposed to be a party. Not… this.” 

Tim wrenched his arm free from under Bart and took calculated breaths. “This is not what she was talking about, oh my god.”

Kon was wedged as far back as possible in the tiny box, Bart on one leg and Tim on the other. “Hey, it’s not too late, we could make it a party,” he gulped as Bart shifted in a way that was dangerous. Had this been any other scenario, had they not been tossed in together by a breakthrough villain, this might have been exciting. 

Kon loathed new villains. At least with Hot Streak or Captain Boomerang he could anticipate what could happen. But oh no, they had to deal with Iron Wrapper or whatever it was. 

“Superboy, is your TTK able to do anything helpful?” Tim asked and it was clear he was desperately trying to not breathe. Kon put his hand on the side of the metal box and pushed out with his TTK, it crawled along all sides and he pushed, straining. After a full minutes of bracing against the box he let up. “Nope, looks like we’re stuck. Babe?” 

Bart shook his head and started to answer Kon, but Tim interrupted. “No compromising language! We don’t know if they’re listening!” 

Bart rolled his eyes. “We’ll come out on Twitter later. Anyway. Sorry babe but I’ve been trying to vibrate through since we got trapped in here. Nada.” 

“Damnit! Okay, Rob, you got any ideas? What about your bat-communicator?” Kon asked. “Imp and I have done all we can, time to pony up.” 

Tim was quiet for a couple moments before he answered him. “No reply,” his voice was raspy and he too began to sweat. Of all the traps he got himself in this should not be this difficult. 

Bart attempted to lighten the mood. “So two boys, an enby, and a box-” 

“No.” Tim was not in the mood. 

“Just trying to lighten everything up, damn it’s hot.” Bart shifted in Kon’s lap and Kon wrapped one arm around his waist and he pulled him closer to him. 

The movement was obvious to Tim but he declined to comment on it. Getting them to keep their hands off of each other while suited up had been impossible since they got together five months ago. “It’s hot because we’re running out of air. We need to find a way out of here. So uhm, if either of you have some shocking new way of using your power please speak up.” 

Silence, and breathing.

“Besides, you’re literally against my leg, gross.” Bart pointed out and Tim backed down. 

Tim grew concerned. “Guys?... Oh you better not be-”

Bart and Kon both recoiled at the same time. “What?!”

“Ew!”

“Come on man, we could really die in here you think we’re-  that’s low, Rob. Real low.” Kon grumbled defensively. 

“Sorry, sorry. Just on edge. I’m serious though. Any ideas?” 

“Y’know, maneuver 7.” 

Bart considered it as the sweat on his forehead finally began pooling and falling down his skin in streaks, and the skin under his body suit felt swampy despite its moisture wicking being the best on the planet. “Well… Babe, you wanna try it?”

Kon was momentarily lost. “Try what?” 

“I don’t think we ever named them,” Kon huffed in a lazy, heat hazed laugh. 

The back of Tim’s throat feel like he had taken a bite of oatmeal and it was just stuck there, dry and unmoving and he was desperate for water, and air. They couldn’t keep this up. “I don’t care if you were inspired by Looney Tunes, please just try it!” 

When Rob snapped, which was actually pretty common, both of them knew to pay attention. 

“Okay, Bart what are you thinking?” 

“Vibrating force field. You get your TTK up, I vibrate it, you push.” The plan was simple and combined unimaginable force with blinding speed and kinetic energy. 

Kon immediately threw up his TTK to surround them, one hand on each side of the box. Bart reached and covered Kon’s hands with his own hot fingers and he concentrated, and began to vibrate. 

As he did, little pops and flashes of electricity flickered every now and then in the dark. They were blue, then white, then yellow as he used more and more of his attachment to the Speedforce. All the while Kon pushed as hard as he could with his tactile telekinetic barrier. 

The air was so thick. 

There was no air left and Rob could feel his mind blanking, he thought he was hallucinating when he suddenly saw bright assaulting light envelop all of them. 

The deep gasp was completely involuntary when fresh and pure air filled his lungs, and he quickly began to assess their situation. 

The box they had been trapped in had burst from within and debris had been flung in all directions. Meanwhile Bart was laying backwards on top of Kon, his goggles steamed up as he laughed lazily. 

“Toldja that would work! That was so cool!” Bart boasted. 

“Hell yeah,” Kon croaked, his face was red as he took low breaths. “I’m so hot.” 

Bart grinned. “Loving the confidence.” 

Tim rolled his eyes. “Oh shut up. Come on, we have a perp to track down, you two can flirt later.”

“He’s never gonna change, is he?” Kon wondered aloud. Bart finally shifted off of him. 

“Nah. But we like him like this.” 

[disneydancepants]

More Disney Names, Villain Edition!

Oof, I think promised this a year ago. 😔

Well, it's finally here! At least? I'm sorry...

Just me though. Me are worm, worthless worm.

Let's goooo! Format will be a little different this time, though.

1.) Evil Queen (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs)

The Evil Queen, mother of Evie, (second) fairest of them all... She actually has a canon name. If you remember my Disney Princess post, I revealed this for Snow White. While not in the movie, Evil Queen has long been known as Queen Grimhilde in various media. This is even confirmed in Sofia the First (I think season 4?). She is also occasionally called Evil Queen Ingrid, although this is less-canon. I like combining the two into: Queen Ingrid Grimhilde. It fits her.

Confirmed Canon, Outside Film.

2.) Lady Tremaine (Cinderella)

The Wicked Step-Mother, mother of Anastasia and Drizella... We don't actually hear her name in the film, but her daughters get announced at the ball using the surname Tremaine. We don't ever learn her first name. In the live action version, it is apparently Madonna Tremaine. There is a Nancy Tremaine in Enchanted as a nod to her, although she was neither wicked (outside of Elphaba, anyway) nor ultimately a stepmother in the end. I made up the name Lady Hellene Tremaine for her, mostly because I like how it sounds. Every other name at the ball is French, so the French form of Helen suits. It's got a nice "Hell" in there for her evilness, although that has nothing to do with the etymology of the name...

Half-Confirmed Canon in the movie, Half-Invented by me.

4.) Captain Hook (Peter Pan)

Everybody knows his name. In the book, he's Jas. Hook. I don't know why it was so hard to write two more letters, but Captain James Hook of the Jolly Roger is his full name.

Confirmed Canon in the Film and original story.

3.) Maleficent (Sleeping Beauty)

The Mistress of All Evil, who unleashed All the Powers of Hell! The Evilest Villain! The Evil Fairy who can transform into a friggin DRAGON! We only really know her by one name, like Cher. Disney Villains: The Top Secret Files says her full name is Maleficent Fae/Maleficent Fairy or something like that. But that's lame. I'm not calling my Sims that.

Instead, I came up with two. I like the sound better of Maleficent Infernalis, which means "hellish". But from an etymological stand-point, Maleficent Gehennalis of the Forbidden Mountain work better (unlike Infernalis, Gehennalis also translates to "From Hell"). Ugh... Maleficent Infernalis just sounds better though...

Not Canon. I made it up.

5.) Cruella De Vil (101 Dalmatians)

Yeah, so... They straight up say it the whole movie. Bonus though: Horace and Jasper are the Badun Brothers. I never knew they were even related when I was growing up, but that's canon. Cruella De Vil.

Canon in Film.

6.) The Horned King (The Black Cauldron)

Man, this dude... This dude... He has no other name in the movie. In the books, you have to know his true name to be able to defeat him. So you know what the author does? A character yells something indistinguishable when he beats the Horned King. When asked about it later, he gives the cop-out of "Oh, I can't say it again! It's too horrible!"

Fuck off. Nobody has time for that garbage. But anyway, he's call Re Cornelius in Italian or something because the translation for "Horned King" is slang for "The Cuckold King", allegedly. So he's King Cornelius over there. Interestingly, that sounds like the name of an old horned god he may have been modeled after: Cernunnos. So I'm calling this dude Cernunnos of Annuvin.

Sorta Invented, sorta pieced together from canon sources. It's iffy.

7.) Ursula (The Little Mermaid)

Nothing canon is given for our Mer-Octo-Not-A-Mom. In original drafts, she was supposed to be the banished sister of King Triton, but that was thrown out. The sequel makes that extra non-canon by giving her an avenging sister. So... What's her name? What's her name?

I was originally going to go with Ursula Cecaelia. A Cecaelia is the mythological name for a half-human, half-octopus being. But then I discovered that Ursula was heavily modelled after drag icon Divine. To the point that she might have voiced Ursula if she hadn't died before production. So in honor of Ursula's inspiration, I dub her Ursula Divinia.

Made it up based on pre-production sources. Not Canon.

8.) Gaston (Beauty and the Beast)

Noooo oooone... Makes this easy as Gaston! Except maybe Cruella De Vil. But Gaston has a canon name, and it's Gaston LeGume. Because the dude is a total goomer. It's supposed to be a pun off legume/a peanut. Probably because he's book-dumb. Aww, opposites attract! At least from Gaston's direction.

If only they had given us LeFou's full name too!

Confirmed Canon by production crew, but not in the film itself.

9.) Jafar (Aladdin)

So, bouncing off the research I tried to do for Aladdin and Jasmine... This guy was much harder. We know nothing about his parents, his family, his origins... Not even really in deleted material. So I went with a title surname. Jafar al-Wazir or literally Jafar the Vizier. He has a dubiously canon sister named Nasira who tries to avenge him in a video game, but she's not given any more name info either. So...

Not Canon, but built from the little canon material I could scrounge.

10.) Governor Ratcliffe (Pocahontas)

Okay, so... I'm gonna be honest: I can't remember if this is given in the movie or if it's the historical guy's name. But he's Governor John Ratcliffe. Lots of Johns back then, huh? IMO, the real life Ratcliffe doesn't sound like a bad person. I feel like they slapped the name Ratcliffe onto 90% of the real John Smith's character. Fun fact: Ratcliffe and his man-servant Percy are both voiced by David Ogden Stiers, of M*A*S*H fame. He also did the voices of Cogsworth and Idiot Scientist Jumba.

Confirmed Canon.

11.) Judge Frollo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame)

This guy might be the most evil Disney Villain. And... This movie isn't very PC, huh? I get it's based on an old book, but we're not supposed to say "hunchback" or "gypsy" anymore. At least they were the good guys though, right?

Anyway... His name is Judge Claude Frollo. Sorry Maleficent, but this guy is the real actual worst.

Confirmed super canon.

12.) Hades (Hercules)

Yes indeed. This guy had nothing canon beyond "Hades, God of the Underworld" in the movie. So I had to look to his mythological counterpart (who, unlike Disney's version, isn't the Christian Devil. But had to twist Zeus into the good guy somehow!) Could have gone with Pluto or all kinds of things, but I liked his Greek epithet Hades Erebios. Besides also being called Hades, the Underworld was also called Erebos (from what I remember. My note-taking should have been better.) So Hades Erebios loosely should mean "Hades of the Underworld". I didn't like Hades Olympios because... The movie completely excludes Hades from the Gods of Olympus. He doesn't even get to glow like they all do!

Not Confirmed Canon, but based on mythology.

13.) Shan Yu (Mulan)

Maybe I should have gone with his name from the live-action version. "Shan Yu" is derived from... I think it was the Hun word for "leader"? But it's based on a historical title, and thus... Not really a proper name.

But the movie treats it like one. They also named the cricket Cri-Kee, so this was probably a nerdy inside joke. I can get on board with that. So it's just Shan Yu. The glorious Tiger-Man.

Confirmed Canon, right in the movie.

14.) Clayton (Tarzan)

I remember reading that in the book(s), Clayton is something like Tarzan's cousin. And he doesn't want Tarzan to return to Great Britain because he's the rightful heir to the fortune Clayton inherited. Disney didn't include any of that thought.

I don't remember if this is in the movie or just the books, but google tells me his full name is Mr. William Cecil Clayton.

Canon confirmed, somewhere.

15.) Yzma (Emperor's New Groove)

This one actually threw me off my groove. Kronk is the only character I could find any info on an actual full name. And since his is a Villains post and not a Minions/Henchmen... I have no idea for Yzma or Kuzco.

I'm blanking here. Couldn't find anything.

16.) Commander Rourke (Atlantis: The Lost Empire)

Should I have spoiler tagged this? I'm lame and don't even know *how* to do a spoiler tag on tumblr. But this movie is old enough, right?

Anyway, full name is Commander Lyle Tiberius Rourke.

Confirmed Canon in the Film.

17.) Mor'du (Brave)

Uuuugh, the stupid chronological Disney Villain list I was following didn't include Brave. Of course. So now I have to redo all my numbers. Thanks, list!

This list's villain from the Other Studio is not given any name for his human form. Mor'du is only the name of his bear form, coming from Gaelic to mean "Black Giant" essentially. The Legend of Mor'du bears some slight resemblances to the historical account of Eirik Bloodaxe/Yryc Bloodaxe though, with him allegedly killing his half-brothers to gain political power. Eirik Bloodaxe was a Norwegian Viking King, but he was exiled and ruled Northumbria (Scotland) briefly before his death.

I like the comparisons, and maybe in Pixar Eirik made a deal with a witch to regain Norway? Yeah? Maybe? For that reason, I like something like Yryc Bloodaxe or Yryc Mor'du as his name.

Not Canon. At all.

18.) Doctor Facilier (The Princess and the Frog)

The Shadow Man! He's Got Friends On the Other Side! I was losing some steam here, but I'm back now with one of my favorite villains!

No official first name is given for Doc F, BUT! BUT! Dr. Facilier was inspired by real life voodoo priest Francois Duvalier, who also modeled his look after Baron Samedi. Plus, I love that alliteration of Dr. Francois Facilier! It just sounds right

Not Canon, but based on a character inspiration.

19.) Mother Gothel (Tangled)

Mother might know best when she's gaslighting a princess, but we don't know her first name. So I tried to make something up that fits her character and sounds a bit off from other characters (since she's an ancient de-aging witch). I ended up picking Narcissa Gothel. Half-spoilers for the TV show, but it also fits the Greek-named theme with her biological daughter. The Narcissist thing might be too on-the-nose, but... It does accurately fit her.

100% made up, Not Canon.

20.) Prince Hans (Frozen)

Sorry-Not-Sorry if this spoils Frozen, but... Who is reading this post and hasn't seen Frozen at this point?! And I still vividly remember saying "I don't trust this guy..." out loud after he got introduced the first time I saw it. True story.

Okay, but anyway: he's been revealed to be Prince Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles. In my headcanon, he's also the returning Villain of Frozen 3. No redemption for you!

Confirmed very Canon outside the movie.

21.) Namaari (Raya and the Lost Dragon)

Last on my list... I don't even remember if I did Namaari alongside Raya in the previous list. I've stayed up way too late writing this. So if I did, here it is again. If I didn't... Here it is once.

Like Raya, the best we get is "Namaari of Fang". I'm sorry tired that I'm spacing... Crap, Namaari is from Fang, right? Not Talon?

Whichever it is, I google-translated the correct one. I think into Indonesian? It was back when I did the post with Raya. And then I added what Wikipedia told me was a South-Eastern Asian surname ending. The result was Princess Namaari Sitaring.

Not Canon, but I tried my best to accurately reflect her Clan name with a Kumandran flair.

Obviously this wasn't a complete list. I mostly focused on humanoid Villains who corresponded to my previous lists. Hope you enjoyed!

[ficsnroses]

I smiled the whole way through the new fic. I could feel myself making heart eyes lol. I love fluffy fics that are just people being domestic and you're SO GOOD at that. My heart and stomach felt so light while reading it. The part about her saying she felt so lucky to know him how she does?? AAHHAHH YOU DONT KNOW WHAT THAT DOES TO ME. I MIGHT CRY

thankyouthankyouthankyou!!! that’s literally so sweet I’m so happy you enjoyed it! I always get scared posting super fluffy fics because I’m worried my audience is sick of reading so many of them, but I do adore them! John in the movies is so stoic, and he’s too busy literally fighting for his life for us to see him toned down and at ease. we did get a tiny glimpse of it through the flashbacks with Helen, and oh god doesn’t he seem so perfect? 🥺 I fully believe John Wick is the softest he’s 100% the type of hubby to literally always be near his s/o because it just makes him feel safe?? and reminds him of good??? and how life is more than just the ugly stuff?? he’d probably appreciate all the little things so much, like Sunday afternoons reading a book with his head in their lap as they stroke his hair, or those extra 10 little minutes before they need to get out of bed in the morning where they can just wake up together before starting the day 🥺🥺 he is the epitome of the I LOVE MY WIFE guy idcidc no one can convince me otherwisE

[to-the-stars8]

The Lamentation of the Apprentice

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Ao3 A/N; Have a happy weekend my loves!

Chapter 6

Asra sat on my bed, crisscrossed, reading through one of my tarot card books when I emerged from the bathroom in my outfit for the masquerade. It was nice to see him calm now, unlike earlier that day when he was busy sitting at his booth selling shop after shop. I could see why Muriel said he would never be caught in the city during the Masquerade as a big crowd surrounded the magician. Asra looked calm, and I knew that perhaps he could spend more days there in my room to read. 

 His eyes were still drawn down to the book as I tried to pose to catch his attention. I did not know if I should interrupt his reading, so I cleared my throat. His eyes looked up, and he stared. Only stared. Anxiety was shaking my heart violently, and I only could think of how horrible I must have looked if it rendered him speechless. 

I fingered the gift he had given me around my neck, pushing and pulling the blue crystal along the black string. Finally, Asra arose from the bed, a big grin on his face. 

“You--” He thinned his lips, thinking for a moment. “You look amazing.”

I smiled down at my outfit before looking back at him through my lashes. “You say that truthfully?”

“If I lie I wish the gods would strike me down now,” He put a hand over his heart. 

“Do not say such things,” I whispered, stepping closer. 

In Helene, the gods were not to be called upon, especially to strike someone down. It was bad luck. Asra grinned and said it again, and, this time when I hushed him, I put my hands over his mouth. Underneath, I could feel the wicked smirk on his face, and then, slowly, his tongue flicked against my fingers. I shrieked, pulling my hands away. 

“You--” The words died on my lips as he hunched over in wild laughter. My face felt hot, and he must have noticed. “Get dressed, I will-- You--”

When the words would not come, I sat down at my vanity, back to him. When he tried to speak, I would not say anything. Despite not facing him, I could see the mischievous glint in his eyes as he struggled to hold back a laugh. When his footsteps disappeared toward the bathroom, chuckles still escaping his lips, I smiled to myself. It was strange, the heat I had felt when Asra’s lips were pressed against my hand and the electricity that shocked my body with his tongue. The feeling was new, and it scared me so I pushed it away. 

He always teased in such devious and childish ways, so there had to be nothing behind it. My eyes wandered over to the tarot deck, thinking back to when he read my cards the first time I met him. He hadn’t changed much in the few months I had known him, if he did I do not remember, but I found myself happy to know him. 

“MC,” Asra called from the bathroom. “Will you come to help me?”

I rose from my vanity and went to the bathroom. There, Asra stood with the back of his shirt open with only a few buttons done from the waist to the small of his back. We had decided not to match, despite his insistent begging, so he wore black high-waisted pants with a teal poet blouse with golden earrings. 

I did not have the heart to tell him he looked like a pirate. 

“I think you look fine like this.” I teased.

“Oh?” Pink burned at his ear, but he still smirked at me over his shoulder. “What would the princess of Prakra think?”

Ah, yes, I had forgotten she would be there. “She would have to think herself lucky to see such a sight.”

Asra spluttered something, but I couldn’t make it out and was too flustered myself to do so. Instead, I threw my hands on the teal poet blouse’s gold buttons and started to fix them together up to his back. My knuckles brushed his skin as I did so, and it felt as soft as I imagined. 

“Thank you,” Asra whispered when the blouse was closed. 

I didn’t answer and went back to my vanity, stealing glances at him in the reflection in the mirror when he ventured back to the book on the bed. His hair was swept back out of his face and now, even when I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel his eyes burn through me even more. 

Our eyes met and we stared at each other for a moment, and, slowly, his eyes wandered down my reflection. I chose not to say anything as his eyes stayed a bit too long at the v-neck on my outfit and then met mine again. Pink returned in his ears and he sheepishly looked away like a child caught stealing. 

“MC,” Asra stated matter-of-factly. “I believe you are dressed the best in all of Vesuvia for the Masquerade.”

“I think I stand little chance against you,” I jested. “Nonetheless, let us see who is best dressed. Are you ready?”

I put on my mask and then turned to Asra who was hopping off the bed, holding out his hand to me. I took it. 

“This is going to be the most fun, especially with you there.”

--

As we walked to the palace the streets were nothing but a sea of people and I felt a last-minute wave of social anxiety. It was made better by Asra walking happily by my side, hand intertwined with mine so we would not lose one another. I had spluttered excuses when he had offered to hold my hand as we walked, but, despite me saying I was fine, he took it. 

People had their booths set up with games and others were selling their masks. Not as intricate and personal as I had seen Asra’s, but some could pass for second place. The walk to the palace was long, but I hadn’t noticed as the magician pointed everything and anything out to me. He explained how the pubs stayed open twenty-four hours for three days straight for the masquerade, and, often, one could get away with a free drink of coffee that they served those who were hung over the following day. He also pointed out the maypole dances, and, for a while, we watched the children skip around; twisting and twirling the red and gold ribbons attached. 

Eventually, we made it to the palace. The shining light that sat atop of the city, and now was loud with music and laughter. The feeling of walking through those gates of the palace should have been a great joy. We had spent an hour walking to it, and to finally see it--It shouldn’t have filled me with dread. My mind spun for a second at the thought that everyone who passed was watching me. They were after me . At least, one of them was.

“MC,” Asra looped an arm around my waist, and all of a sudden I was grounded. My head stopped spinning and we looked at each other. “Are you okay?”

Despite my heavy breathing, I nodded, trying to smile at him. It felt strained and he must have seen it. 

“It is quite warm. Come, let’s sit for a moment,” With his arm around my waist still, Asra lead me through the crowd of people. 

The doors of the ballroom were open and crowds of people rushed to and from them. Guards in golden armor stood at each side, yelling at people who were too rambunctious or bumped into them. When we entered I forgot all about the emotion as I was entranced by the beauty of the ballroom. I broke Asra’s hold on my waist to look around better. 

The ballroom was wall to wall decorated with red and gold and at the end, a grand staircase that rose high enough that I could see the distant figure of the count and who likely was the Prakran princess. I looked up, seeing a glass dome above the two of us, and couldn’t take my eyes off it. It wasn’t until I bumped into someone that I finally looked back at my friend.

I grabbed Asra’s hands and grinned at him, leaning close so he could hear me over the crowd. “This looks amazing!”

Asra shrugged and pulled me close again. His arm slung over my shoulder and he lead me further into the ballroom. “I think it’s a bit too much for my taste.”

“You cannot deny though, that this place is what every royal dreams of, no?”

The magician only smiled before pulling me off to a side room where fewer people were playing a game of charades, he pulled me to the corner of the room where a large red curtain hung. Asra looked behind me, making sure no one was paying attention, before pulling it back to reveal a door. I gasped but he put a finger to my lips, shushing me. Quietly, he opened it and helped me slip in, him following behind. 

Suddenly, we were in a dark, narrow corridor that was only illuminated by the warm lights coming in through the windows that ran along the wall. It was quieter, we couldn’t hear the people or the music. Asra tugged my arm and we ran down it, the only sound being our shoes hitting the marble floor and him continuing to quiet me. 

“Follow me up these stairs,” He whispered as we came to a split in the hallway. 

I did as he told me, and would go up them no matter what. We hit another door, and Asra looked at me before opening it. 

“You won’t believe this.” 

With a click, Asra opened the door to a balcony. It was small, meant to be hidden and we looked over the whole ballroom right above the grand entrance. We could see all of Vesuvia and one room, and across it, the tiny blond speck of the Count. He did not seem so intimidating from far away, I thought. The music sounded better up there, too. Like it was carried to specifically us. 

“Come, sit,” Asra motioned to a bench that was just high enough that we could see over the railing. “How are you feeling now?”

Sitting felt amazing and I sighed with relief. “Better. Much better. Thank you. How do you know of this place?”

“I have been to many masquerades, eventually you get tired of the party but not the palace.”

I snorted and closed my eyes, listening to the music play, eventually leaning my head onto Asra’s shoulders. “Thank you, Asra.”

I could feel him shift. “For what?”

“Being my friend.”

He was silent for a moment, then quietly answered, “I will always be your friend. No matter what.” 

“Swear it,” I said, lifting my head from his shoulder, and holding out my hand. “If you are serious you have to swear it. Friends always.”

Asra grinned at me, then took my hand.  “Consider it sworn into the stone of destiny. Asra and MC, forever friends.”

I chose not to remark on the dramatic statement and then put my head back onto his shoulder. We sat there for a while, just enjoying one another’s company. Asra hummed along to the music and I played the notes on my imaginary mandolin against my thigh. 

Years could have passed and not for a moment would I have grown tired of those minutes that passed then. 

We rose to watch the people dance as waltzes started to play, and we danced a few together on the balcony--Although, half-heartedly so. Asra showed me the steps of the few Vesuvian dances I did not know, as I expressed my worry about looking silly. 

As his hands pressed into the small of my back and my hips I made a mental note of what they felt like. Strong and gentle, just as the shiny look in his eyes he gave me with every step that was taught. 

At the end of one more waltz we started to sit back down to rest, but, suddenly, a familiar tune started to play. I gasped and rushed to the railing of the balcony to hear it better despite being perfectly capable of hearing it already. A song from Helene. From my home. 

I turned to Asra. “Asra, let’s go dance on the floor. I know this song. Dance with me, will you? I beg of you, Asra!”

“Like I would say no, come!” He pulled me to the stairs. 

We ran to the dance floor and, surprisingly, Asra was able to quickly learn my steps as I taught him. As the song went on faster, than it was supposed to, we gathered a crowd around us. People clapped and cheered, urging us on. We on like that for a few minutes until it ended and the crowd exploded with excitement.

People patted us on the back, telling us how wonderful we looked. Asra held my hand as we took the compliments with the confidence of the Count himself. As another song started the crowd dispersed to dance again. 

Asra and I exchanged a grin before starting up with them. People around us spun around with glee and we tried to copy them but stumbled over ourselves too much. I was still learning the steps, and Asra was trying to keep up with the music. We didn’t care, though. At that moment, as Asra took me by the waist and held me close as we bounced around like balls, we forgot all about the city, the people, and even ourselves.

Then, the song ended like a snap and the world fell on our shoulders again but, this time, it seemed a bit lighter. I pressed my nose against the side of Asra’s face and laughed-- snort and all. He turned and we accidentally shared our first kiss. Well, it was just the passing of lips and it could hardly be called a kiss. We both pulled away and looked at one another with a blush on our cheeks, then, I broke out into a grin. I hadn’t meant to. I intended to be passive about it, to simply act like it never happened.

“Asra, I-” I started to say, but I was cut off. 

“People of Vesuvia,”  A strangely familiar voice called out from the top of the stairs. It was Count Lucio, still too far away for me to see him. His outfit was the gaudiest thing I had ever seen. It was gold, almost solidly so from what I could see. Nothing but glittering gold from his hair to his boots. “I welcome you to this year’s most magnificent, fabulous, greatest masquerade in all of Vesuvian history!”

The whole of the ballroom erupted in whoops, screams, and even a few boo’s as champagne was popped and wine glasses were held into the air. Asra and I screamed in excitement, not for the count but for us. Then, the music started again and we started to dance. 

We danced more and more, and, as Asra spun me around I caught a glimpse of someone that made my heart leap into my throat. The Count. The man dressed in gold stood not far from us with a tall woman who was likely the Princess of Prakra, talking about something. He was waving around a wine glass, obviously already a bit drunk. I must have stopped spinning as Asra leaned in to ask me something, but I couldn’t hear him. 

“I thought he was dead, Asra,” I said absentmindedly. 

“What do you mean?”

Montag, the man that stood in gold was supposed to be dead. My father had said he was after he took a brutal blow to his arm in some battle or while stealing something. 

“Montag--Lucio--Whatever his name is now, was dead,” I gasped. 

I pushed my way through the crowd, not caring about any complaints from people who got in my way. Moments later I was on a veranda overlooking a parade, there were few people there so I took the chance to get some clarity into my mind. I closed my eyes and leaned against the railing, trying to sort everything out.

“MC, what’s going on?” Asra wrapped an arm around my shoulder and another gripped my forearm in an attempt to comfort me. 

Quietly, I explained to him who Montag was. An old mercenary from the Scourge, someone fierce on the field. My father had said that he was an excellent man with a sword, but beyond that, there was little hope for him. He and my father fought together once, Papa had hired him for some issue troubling our home. I had met him many times then, and, oddly, he was almost kind. A bit arrogant, of course, but a little girl entranced by a handsome warrior let him live in my mind with a pink hue for a while. 

It wasn’t until one day, as I helped heal the soldier of our home, did I see him for what he truly was. He acted depraved, speaking of how he enjoyed the thrill of having someone at the end of his sword. Cutting them open. It made him feel bigger than that person. Stronger. Then, he was dead. Montag was no more after dying from bleeding out, supposedly.

The Count was younger then, his hair was more golden, no wrinkles lined his face and he seemed more ambitiously evil then. Now, he seemed bored and dull, a potion for new wickedness my father would say, but perhaps the glamour of the parties soothed some of his new ideas. Still, we were not comforted.

[dreamifics]

John Wick x Assassin!Reader!

Two Broken Souls

Chapter 1:

A woman push pass people in the busy and rainy street of New York, she was making her way to The Continental. She was covering her face with the dark hoodie that envelops her whole body..

Entering the hotel, the woman caught everyone's attention, but it didn't faze her. She sashay her way to the counter, taking off her hood in the process.. Small gasps and hush whispers filled the hotel lobby.

The woman was all covered in blood, her eyes were blank and cold but she was carrying a black duffel bag.. This was Y/N L/N or as the underworld calls her 'The Reaper', she's a highly paid assassin and anywhere she goes Death always follow..

They all know that she is the perfect epitome of Death.

Rumors has it that she even surpasses the infamous 'Baba Yaga'..

But the truth is Y/N was hopelessly and completely in love with John Wick, they used to be partners but he left her for Helen, given they were just friends but he left her high and dry.. Y/N had no hard feelings, she just wanted John to be happy and it was nice to see that Helen unconditionally loves the man she also love.. Helen was a sweet and nice person while she is far from that.. She's just a quick-witted, sarcastic evil killer and deep inside her she knew that she didn't deserve John..

Everyone she loves will only die..

Reaching the concierge, she drops her hand to the desk and drop some gold coins.. Charon gave Y/N a small smile, and accepted the coins.

"Charon, give me a room and some medical supply.." Her voice was cold and blank, Y/N is not usually like this to peoole she's acquainted with.. Y/N is just having a rough day, for god's sake she was covered with blood that doesn't even belong to her and to top that up she have a gunshot wound in her abdomen.

"Rough day, Miss L/N?"

"You could say.." She answered while her fingers tapped the concierge desk, Y/N was slowly getting impatient.

"Here you go..Room 12--" He was cut off by the desk phone ringing.

"Please wait a moment, Miss L/N.." Charon answered the phone but he still hasn't given Y/N her keys..

Growing more and more impatient Y/N wanted to grab the keys from his hand and punched him but Charon is her frien--more like acquaintance..

"Okay, i'll move her.." Charon said aa he ended the call..

"Miss L/N, you have been moved to Room 134..Please enjoy your stay.."

He gives Y/N the new key and she grabs it and made her way to the elevator.. She was confused that she has been moved, knowing that Winston is probably the one behind this action, she just shrugged it off.

The elevator opens and it revealed a man with a black suit and a long hair that covered his whole face, Y/N doesn't even need to see the man's face.. She knew that this was the guy she loved, the one who she still loves.

John was stunned at the person that is infront of him.. Y/N L/N, the girl he used to love but didn't do anything because he was afraid to jeopardize their friendship, so he moved on and that's where he met Helen.

He noticed that Y/N was covered in blood, worries shot through his whole body.. Y/N may be a good assassin but she never cared about the state her body is in..

"Are you okay?"

Y/N's breath hitched, she felt a lump got caught in her throat and her heart was beating out of her chest. The way his eyes travel to her face and body, it was making her weak.

"Im-Im alright.."

John forehead creased, he can see when people are lying to him but Y/N was a very good liar.

"Is that your blood?" He asks gesturing to her whole body.

"Maybe 2 percent of it, the remaining belonged to many assholes who got in my way.." Y/N tried to joke but it came out a little rude..

"I see you haven't change.." John gave her a smile, it has been long since he smiled like this.

"Ye-Yeah..I have to go." She dismissed all the feelings that was once bubbling up again, she entered the elevator and John got out..

"It's nice to see you Y/N, i hope we can get a drink later.." John offered but he only got a blank stare from Y/N..

And she was gone, the elevator has closed it doors..

Y/N doesn't want to see John ever again, she was broken-hearted when he left, the pain she felt can't amount to any gunshot wounds she endured in her life.

Y/N hoped that this was the last time she will see John Wick, the man she loves..

The elevator reached her floor, she walks to her door and unlocked the room.. Entering inside she flops down the couch and grabbed the medical supplies that was laying around in the table infront of the couch.

After she took out the bullet and stitch herself up, she took a shower.. Now she's looking all over her hotel room for any alcohol that will supress the pain she was feeling.. But she found nothing, Charon and Winston know that she always need to have an alcohol in her room but what happend? Did they forgot?

Giving up she went through her clothes and pulled out a black dress, she slowly took of the bathrobes that were covering her body and carefully slid on the dress..

Y/N wore a black leather boots, hiding a dagger knife inside and putting a gun holster in her legs.. She can never be too careful, she let her hair fall on her shoulders as she grabs the door handle and swing it open.

In that exact time the door infront of her room also swing open revealing John..

Y/N mentally curses at herself, she didn't want to see John anymore.. It will only made it harder to move on, she sighs and slammed the door as fast as she could.

John noticed Y/N but his gaze was immediatly broken by the slamming of her door.. Was Y/N avoiding him?

He closed his door and knock on Y/N's.. John heard Y/N curse at herself and the door opened..

"Oh!Hey John!Didn't see you there!" Y/N faked a smile but John saw right through it.

"Drop the act..Are you avoiding me?" John asks with desperation in his tone..

Y/N was frozen, should she tell John her undying love? But she was not like Helen, she wasn't sweet nor nice and she can't givr John the normal life he yearns.. Helen and Y/N are different, John would never love a girl like her..

She was a cold-blooded killer..

A frown escaped her lips as thoughts like that crept unto Y/N's mind.. Shaking off her mind, she focused back on John who was giving her a penetrating gaze..

"N-Nothing, let's get that drink.." She pulled John's arm and lead him to the elevator..

As she touches John's arm it send thousand of sparks to her whole body..

"So what are you up to?" Y/N tried her hardest to change the topic and not look into John's heartmelting eyes..

"You know what i did...How about you?Last i heard you were in Italy?"

Y/N did vacation in Italy--and what she means by vacation was assassinating enemies of the High Table..

"Just a vacation.." She mutters and the elevator opened..

The two got in and pressed the ground floor, an eerie silence filled the elevator..

"Vacation?Did not know that you take those.." John joked making you frown..

"Ha ha!Did not know you make jokes.."

The two just laugh and the ambiance became more comfortable..

"So how are you holding up?" Y/N asks, her tone was dripping with worries..

"I'll be fine.." His face turned into a sad frown, it made Y/N's heart crack, Y/N aches when she sees the love of her life hurting..

"Im sorry.." Y/N comforted the man infront of her and gives him a hug..

And in that action, John couldn't contain the sadness in his heart anymore.. So he closed his eyes and embrace Y/N's hug.. His head falling on the nook of Y/N's neck..

"Im so sorry John.."

She tighten the hug and rubbed his back.. Why can't Y/N seem to let John go? Why can't she move on?

"If you want help, i can help you.. Let's kill those sons of bitches.."

John chucked and Y/N felt the vibrate of his laugh.. Her heart jumped and Y/N's throat getting drier every second that John was in the crook of her neck.

"This is my battle..Besides you are the only thing i have now..I can't bear to lose you too.." John explained, meaning every word of it.. Does he still have feelings for Y/N?

The elevator door reached the floor and the doors opened, standing there was a smirking Winston..

Y/N frowned when she knew what Winston was thinking, he was the only person that knows her undying love for John.. She pulled back from the hug and exits the elevator..

John felt a little disappointed when she pulled away from his embrace, and that's when he sees Winston standing infront of them..

"Hey Winston!" Y/N greeted the father figure she looks up to, and hugs him..

"Ahh!Dear!I see you found our beloved John Wick..." A sly smirk tugged in his lips, John didn't know what that means but he did noticed the way Y/N shifted uncomfortably..

"Im going to the bar.." Y/N announces, leaving John and Winston for the bar..

John watch Y/N walks away from them, the way her hips sway as she move.. He remembered the first time he saw Y/N..

It was another mission for John, kill Alessandro Rossi, the man who planned to overthrown him.. He was in a club waiting for Alessandro to walk in, sitting in the bar and that's when he saw Y/N..

Wearing a tight black dress and sitting across the club, with a drink in her hand.. Y/N was also waiting for Alessandro, she was ordered to get some information from the bastard

He still remember the first sentence Y/N said to him.

"Baba Yaga?You know that names is really weird..Thinking about changing it?" The woman said to him as she pointed a gun to Alessandro's head.

"Wh-what now?" John was mesmerized by Y/N, the way she took down the bodyguards and her sarcastic remarks when Alessandro curses at her..

"You bitch!Im going to kill you and send you to hell!"

"Who said your going to live?" Y/N's voice was blank but it was also dripping with smugness..

"BITCH!!IM SENDING YOU TO HELL!!"

"Well you see--Im the Reaper..Im the one who decides who dies and im also the one who drag people back to hell!"

John was just standing there as Y/N interrogates the man.. He smiles at how sassy she talks to Alessandro and Y/N interrogation skills was top-notch..

"BITCH LET ME OUT OF HERE!YOUR A HEARTLESS BITCH!!I'LL SEE YOU BURNING IN HELL!!IM GOING TO KILL YOU!!YOUR GOING TO DIE WHORE!"

John's jaws clenched at the insults he spit on Y/N, he was always a gentleman.. And that is no way to treat a lady.. He was about to do something when Y/N grabbed a knife and stabbed his knee..

"I know there's a compliment somewhere in there and i'll take it.."

"You bitch!"

"Ah, there it is!"

John stood there with a big smile in his face and when Y/N was done getting information out of him, John thought that she's going to finish the job but instead she turns around and gave John a viscious smirk.

"Im all done!You can kill the motherfuck--"

"You said i'll live!!" Alessandro cried and Y/N just slaps him in the face

''I also said that im 22 so see you in hell.." Y/N gave Alessandro a wicked smile..

"NOOOO!"

"Do it.." She said walking away from the dark warehouse and going outside to get some fresh air..

John just looked at Y/N amazed before turning back to Alessandro who was weeping..

John also remembered the day he realized he was falling inlove with Y/N

Y/N and John began a friendship--more like a partnership, the two was the most highly paid assassins and the most powerful..

It was John's birthday and he doesn't celebrate but when he met Y/N, she keep insisting to celebrate so Y/N throw John some suprise parties but she always fails because he doesn't show up.

Except for one, it was a day before his birthday when Y/N left and said she was going to do a mission in Tokyo but the truth was she threw John a suprise birthday party. The only people who was invited was the two of them..

He entered his apartment and that's where he saw Y/N.. Baking a cake which she was horribly failing at that Y/N didn't even notice John walking in.. The whole place was decorated with birthday banners and balloons..

"Damn!This cake is killing me!" She utters under her breath..

"What are you doing?"

"What the fuck?!" Y/N shouted and she pointed the gun at him..

"Woah!"

"Sorry!Thought you were someone else!"' She pouted and her eyes widen when as she remembered that it was a surpise birthday..

"Oh!SURPRISE!Ugh!I ruined it!I was the one who got suprised!" She shouted making John laugh..

"What are you doing?Are you trying to burn down my kitchen?" He jokes making Y/N frown..

"Ha ha!So funny!Just shut up and help me bake a cake!!Im the infamous Reaper but this cake is killing mee!"

And that was the day he knew he was inlove with you..

"John, you should go for it.."

John snapped back to reality as Winston spoke, he stares at the man and just shake his head..

"I don't know what your talking about.." John push pass Winston..

"You know she feels the same way.."

This made John stop, is it really true?

Is it true that the infamous 'Reaper' likes him back? The memory of Helen suddenly enters him mind.. He felt guilty, like he was cheating..

"Helen would want you to move on.."

John growls at Winston by the mention of Helen's name.. Winston just chuckled and taps his shoulder..

"Kids nowadays.." Winston mumbles and walked towards the elevator.

John sighs and made his way to bar where Y/N was sitting, a whiskey in her hand..

Y/N mind flew to the endless nights she was crying because of John, the way she watch John from a distant on his wedding day because she refused to come.. It took a toll on her emotional and physical state..

The days where Y/N was down, she didn't even do her job right.. It was always messy, her mind was always flying.. She remembers the time she saw John and Helen having fun, that was the day she accepted her faith..

That she and John will always and forever be just friends.

She moved the glass to her lips, taking a sip of the whiskey.. It burned her throat but she was addicted to it, the oh so satisfying burn of the alcohol..

Y/N saw from the corner of her eye a man was approaching her, Y/N's hand traveled to her gun holster, readying it if someone does attack her..

"Am i seeing right?Or Y/N L/N is drinking alone?"

Y/N turned around to see the owner of the voice, a small smirk played in her lips when it dawned to her..

This was Alex Kavelj, a past lover..

Partner.

Friend.

And enemy..

The two of them tried to kill each other, like Mr and Mrs Smith only without the happy ending.. Y/N ended up winning but she couldn't bring herself to kill the man she used to sleep with..

"Well if it isn't Mister Alex Kavelj.." A smirk played in her lips, she turned back her attention on the drink in her hand but her other hand was still on her holster..

"Come to kill me again?" She taunted at the man behind her, she doesn't know Alex intentions..

"You know i wouldn't do that to you.." He purrs sitting next to Y/N, he signaled to the bartender for a drink..

A scoff escaped her lips as she sips her whiskey, and just shakes her head in amusement.

"Lies.."

"Come on Y/N!Believe me!It's like we don't have any history together.."

Y/N wanted to throw her glass at the man beside her but doing that will cause only chaos to the two of them.. Alex just looked at her, his eyes were burning with lust.. And Y/N noticed it, she felt disgusted..

Y/N regrets sleeping with Alex, they used each other.. Y/N used him as a distraction from John while Alex used her for lust..

"Keep dreaming.." Y/N's voice was filled with disgust, she felt a hand on her shoulders.. She was ready to pounce Alex but she sees the man she hates was still sitting besides her..

Turning her head, she sees John with a serious face.. Y/N has got to admit that she was turned on for just a little bit..

"Is there something wrong?" John asks, his voice was stern and filled with authority..

Y/N just give John a small smile and turn to face Alex.. She slowly let go of her gun holster, she felt safe with John with her.

"Just dealing with pests, that's all.." She said gulping the last bit of whiskey in her glass..

"Mind if i sit with you?" John asks, his hand still holding her shoulder..

"Well that is the deal.." Y/N smiles, she hears Alex scoff..

"Is this your new boy toy?"

"No he's just a fri--"

"Yes, i am..Now what does it matter to you?" John cuts Y/N off, her jaw was wide open.. Surprised at what John had say..

"Chill man!Just reuniting with an old friend.." Alex winks at Y/N making her shudder in disgust.

"Okay..Now leave.." John demanded with the coldest stare anyone could ever get.

Alex just laughs grabbing his drink and walked away from but not without giving Y/N a flirtatious wink..

"Call me if that toy boy of yours is broken!" He waved at Y/N but she just growled at him..

Turning back her attention to the bartender while gesturing a refill.. John sits next to her, moving a little closer to Y/N.

"Who was that?" John asks his eyes were filled with anger and jealousy.. But Y/N didn't see it, she was busy melting in his eyes.

"Just an old acquaintance.."

"Doesn't seem like it.." John growls..

Y/N eyebrows were furrowed at her friends weird behaviour.. Ignoring it she takes another sip of her whiskey, John motioned for a drink and points at my whiskey.

"Yeah, im totally lying..We used to have a friends with benifits thing.. Then we tried to kill each other but i made the mistake of letting him go.."

John whole body stiffened when he heard that term 'friends with benefits'.. He doesn't even know what that means but that does sound very nice..

"What that does mean?" He asks..

Y/N laughs at John's confused face.. She forgot that John doesn't know slangs, he only used formal ones..

"Oh, God!I need to teach you slangs.."

John looked at Y/N as she drink all her alcohol, she faces him..

"Friends with benefits is a sexual relationship without the feelings and commitment.."

John felt his blood boil, he never knew that Y/N was capable of doing that.

"You did that?With him?"

"Well--Yeah.."

"Why?" John said glaring at Y/N..

She felt uneasy, this was the usual John.. Always protecting her, treating her like she was a kid.

"Well--I was reall--"

"You shouldn't do that!It--Just don't do that again.."

Y/N was getting angry as soon those words left his mouth.. He was the reason why.. He was the reason she threw herself at Alex.. He was the reason she was a blabbering mess when he retired.. She wanted to scream that in John's face..

All those days she felt alone and small, that's why she formed a relationship with Alex.. He was just a confidence booster for Y/N.

"You don't get to order me like that..It's my life and it's my goddamn decision!" She screams at John, it was full of anger and spite.

People are now staring at them, she stands up and paid the drinks she had..

"See you around, Wick.."

John knew that Y/N was mad at him, she just called him by his last name.. She never does that, again she saw Y/N walk away from him.

A part of him felt guilty, but he shakes it off and exits the hotel to carry out the mission that was given to him..

Y/N walks pass Charon, she toss some coins to him..

"Bottle of vodka.." Those were enough for the man to understand.. Y/N made her way outside, she was going to kill another enemy of the High Table..

Sighing, Y/N made her way to the apartment unit she owns.. It was already dark, she reached the door of her apartment..

Slowly opening it, she enters cautiously.. She wasn't followed but maybe someone was waiting here for her.. She grabs her gun, and scope the place but she found it empty..

Y/N enters her room and went straight to the closet.. There was some few clothes but it was just mostly guns, ammunitions and files.

She grabs a duffel bag and shove guns and grenades there, Y/N was busy packing when she hears her front door rattle it was followed by a knock.

She closed her walk in closet and hide behind a post near the front door.. She was ready to kill this person.

This could be someone after her..

Gripping her gun, she carefully walks to the door.. Taking a look at the peephole she found her neighbor who was an old woman..

She opened the door but not fully open, she hides the hand that was holding her gun in her back.

"Mrs. Kranowski!It's late, what are you doing here?" She fakes a smile and the old woman just pulled out a letter from her pockets..

"Dear, this was addressed to you but delivered to me..I got this today but since you were not here i kept it..And then i saw you entering your apartment so im giving it to you now..."

The woman gave Y/N the letter, and she gladly accepted it.

"Thank you Mrs. Kranowski.." She didn't give a chance for the old woman to talk, Y/N already closed the door, locking it in the process.

She examined the letter, it did belong to her.. Opening it, she saw a letter.. It was from her father, the leader of the Camorra crimial organization and also the member of the High Table.

Y/N is the youngest D'Antonio..

Yes, she was another D'Antonio, the youngest and most ruthless.. Their father treated her like a weapon, ordering her to kill people and doing his dirty works.. Santino was the only one who treated her like she was human..

No one even knew she was a D'Antonio, maybe it was a good thing, even John doesn't know her true identity.

She sighs as the horrible memories flooded her mind, the way her Father forced her to take advanced assassination training at a very young age.. The rigorous training that almost took her life.

The killer instinct inside her was awaken at the young age of 12.. She had no mother to protect her from the wrath of her Father.. So she had no choice but to oblied to his father orders

She starts to read the letter, her hands shaking at the crude penmanship that belonged to her father..

Dear Amore Mio,

Im sorry for the things that i put you through, i blamed you for your Mother's death but you were innocent.. I broke you, i failed you and your Mother.. I made you do horrible things, but know that i love you.. You are my little stellina, you are my cuoro mio..

The day you were born is the day of your Mother's death.. I regret not giving you a normal life, not spending time with you.. And im really sorry for making you the worst and evil version of you.. But i do know that you still have the last bit of goodness inside you, and Winston also told me about that pretty boy Wick that you love so much.. You have grown up, you have learned to love someone..

My time is running out, and you, my daughter will live a normal life, that's my last wish for you.. Your siblings will fight over my position in the High Table and i know you will be stuck in the middle of all this.. I have a last gift for you, i gave it to Winston.. I get that you trust him more than you trust me.. So i left it to the guy you trust so much..

Gianna will take over my position, but you know that Santino would not bow down that easy.. Bloods will shed and im thankful that you won't be a part of it.. Don't do anything stupid and live a normal life but i know that living like that is impossible.. I love you my little stellina..

Tears were strolling down her face, she didn't know what to do.. But she hates Winston for telling her father about John Wick.. She hugs the letter, nursing it..

This was the first time her father gave her affection, the first time her father apologized to the horrible things he did.. This was also the first time he ever mentioned Y/N's mother, and the first time he said i love you..

Y/N's phone rang making her snap out of her trance, wiping the tears in her face she stands up and looked over the caller id..

Santino..

She accepted the call and unsurely put it in her ear..

"H-Hello?" Y/N's voice was hoarsed, her brother doesn't even need to tell her, she knew that her father is dead..

"Y/N!Father is dead.."

"I-I'll be there.." Those were the words that left her mouth and immediately ended the call..

That's where she broke down, silent scream erupted from her lips.. Her soul was broken again, she was on her floor balled up like a baby..

She suddenly jolted up when she remembered her task, kill Monuira Guisa, this man was planning to elimanate a member of the High Table..

Taking off her feelings and emotions and shoving them to the pit of her stomach.. She can't mess this shit up, so she stands and wipe away the tears in her face..

She washed her face and changed clothes to a more comfortable and moveable clothes.

Grabbing the duffel bag with the ammunitions, guns and grenades.. She prepared herself, taking a deep breath she exits the apartment but before that she enabled her security system.

Locking the door, she discreetly walks away from the building and made her way to the task that was given to her..

Y/N arrives at the hiding spot her target is in, she first scope the place.. There were dozens of boduguards, which means one thing..

He knew someone was coming for him..

A viscious grin formed in her lips, she was going to blow some steam off.. She grabs gun and daggers, hiding it in her boots and jacket.

"Let's kill some motherfu--Ouch!" Y/N was starting to walk when she tripped over a rock.. Steadying and readying herself once again and started to walk..

Ready to kill..

People hide.. Death is coming..

Y/N stands in the middle of the room, she was surrounded by dead bodies courtesy by her.. Infront of her was Monuira, he was bound to a chair.. Sleeping peacefully, Y/N took a picture as another proof.. Then she bring her gun to his head and pulled the trigger..

The sound of her gun echoes through the whole room, sighing as she felt guilt run through the course of her body.

She grabs her bag from the floor and continues to exit the death scene.. No one survived, nobody was left alive..

She went straight to the street leading to the The Continental..

[giasesshoumaru]

“John Wick. Baby Yaga. It was just a fucking car. It was just a fucking dog.”

“Viggo.”

"Yeah?”

"When Helen died, I lost everything. Until that dog arrived on my doorstep... A final gift from my wife... In that moment, I received some semblance of hope... an opportunity to grieve unalone... And your son... took that from me.”

"Oh, God.

"Stole that from me... *Killed that from me*! People keep asking if I'm back and I haven't really had an answer. But now, yeah, I'm thinkin' I'm back. So you can either hand over your son or you can die screaming alongside him!” - Viggo Tarasov and John Wick (John Wick)