#roma better give her a new one

[confusedbutwarm]

[maluustrawberry]

Undesirable encounter

(Claude Frollo X Female reader)

Synopsis: You were the new seamstress in Paris and Frollo suspects that you were harboring Romani in your shop. It looks like your first start was more tense than you expected...

A/n: I confess that I am in love with the Hunchback of Notre-Dame and I especially love the book. I hope you readers like it, and if you want to give me tips I accept (you can correct me too) If you want other Disney characters, you can ask me💕.

Part.2 (Final)

(Guys, I don't know if you know, but the word "gypsy" is a slur and should not be used, the correct one is "Roma" Or "Romani people" I put "Gypsy" only in Frollo's lines since you know the type of person he is.)

It was just another ordinary day in Paris, you had arrived in the city a few months ago and worked as a dressmaker. You immediately became known for the beautiful dresses you produced for the girls and the beautiful clothes for the boys too. You had an excellent aesthetic sense.

But what you had in the way of talent, you also had in the way of kindness. When you heard about the persecution of the Romani people, you felt touched by the situation and decided to help them. It was very risky, but you weren't going to stand by and let it happen like the other citizens of Paris were doing, letting themselves be manipulated by Frollo and his hate speeches. There was a basement in your house that you used to store fabric and sewing materials. You took advantage of that room to help some Romani hide in case of emergency if they were being chased by the guards and if there was no time to run to the court of miracles.

And so it went on, you were extremely careful not to leave any traces, until one day or another these "rumors" ended up reaching the judge.

You were sewing up the sleeves of a client's dress, which had been placed in the moulage to make it easier for you to work, and your attention now turned to the bell that rang as soon as the door was opened. Immediately, the atmosphere of the place changed when you saw who had entered. You knew those clothes, the face worn by age and you couldn't forget that look of superiority and pride, because himself thought he was important and better than everyone because of his opposition and faith. Looking behind those glass windows, you could also see some of his men at the front of the store:

“Bonjour, madame.” Frollo said sternly, snapping you out of your thoughts. That thick, authoritative voice gave you the creeps. “I'd like to know who owns this establishment. Your husband is here?”

“A-Ah! Good morning...” You forced a smile and stuck the needle into the moulage so you wouldn't lose it. “Your Honor, I'm the owner, and no, I don't have a husband.”

As you said this, the judge looked you up and down with contempt. Of course, in the 16th century, a young woman like you not being married was a disgrace to society, and on top of that, being able to read and owning your own business was even worse. You weren't tense or nervous with him in your store, on the contrary, you were so calm... After all, you cleaned out the basement and removed any evidence as soon as a family of Romani's moved out recently:

“I've received information that you've been harboring gypsies in your house and I'm here to find out the facts, have you been harboring gypsies?” He got straight to the point.

“No, sir.” You pretended to be as honest as possible, fortunately you were good at lying.

“You know that if you lie, the sentence for insubordination is death...” He moved closer in an attempt to intimidate her.

“My conscience is clear. You have permission to investigate my store, since my words don't apply to you.”

“If I wasn't allowed to, seamstress, I'd still make a point of searching this place from top to bottom, whether you agree or not.”

The older man signaled for some of his men to enter the store before you could protest or complain. Since you were the only one who seemed to have enough courage to go against the judge's ideas when you were right. They went in and started rummaging around for clues, looking everywhere, even under the skirts of the dresses on the mannequins.

Frollo looked you up and down in an nothing unobtrusive way, you didn't notice the glances, but as soon as you did, it gave you the creeps and you avoided looking back at him. He had never noticed you in the city before and he noticed your accent, deducing that you might be a foreigner. The judge couldn't take his eyes off you, you were a very beautiful woman and seemed so delicate, and it seems that some feeling awakened in him when he saw that you were without gloves and your dress showed your shoulders. He came out of his thoughts when a guard approached:

"Sir, we've looked everywhere and found nothing..." Being a clever woman, an idea came to your mind: perhaps it would be better if they looked at everything to leave you alone.

"Have you looked in my basement, gentlemen?" you asked, kicking the rug that hid the small door in the wooden floor of your store.

Frollo was suspicious, but sent his men in to search every corner of the small cellar. Fortunately, they didn't find anything either, just sewing materials and expensive fabrics. After looking around in vain, the men left the store, leaving you and the judge alone:

“I apologize for this inconvenience.” He said as you went to the moulage to finish the dress.

“You shouldn't believe every rumor out there, Your Honor, not all of them can be true.” You said politely. “but apologies accepted, I know it was for the good of Paris and you care a lot about the city.”

Returning to work, you thought he would leave after all that had happened and notice you "busy" sewing, but no, he stayed in the store while walking slowly around analyzing his surroundings:

“This basement...” He pointed to the carpet above the small door. “Why was it hidden?”

“I don't see the need to show everyone that I have a basement here.” You replied nonchalantly. “and besides, I think that old door would spoil the pretty look of my store.”

Frollo didn't seem to believe in that very much, but you shrugged and continued sewing. There were a few seconds of silence, you could only hear his footsteps coming towards you and could feel that man's gaze on you all the time, causing you a certain nervousness or fear. What did he want anyway?

“Do you want anything else?” you asked in an attempt to break the silence and take your mind off the discomfort of feeling his gaze on you, stopping your sewing and looking at him now.

“I just want you to know.” He said, standing close and looking at her with disgust. “I'll keep an eye on you, I won't trust a literate, single woman so easily... I know women of your kind.”

“I don't think who I am or what I do has anything to do with helping... Ouch!” You interrupted yourself with pain when you felt the needle pierce your finger. It was normal for this to happen when were working with sewing, but it had never been this deep, Maybe it happened because of the anger you was feeling at that moment.

Immediately you dropped the needle out of sheer instinct, and in a quick and daring moment Frollo grabbed your hand with a certain amount of force, bringing it in front of his face, which had a small smile of satisfaction on it. The judge was a sadomasochist, he enjoyed seeing someone in pain, especially when it was someone he thought deserved such a punishment. You were shocked by his attitude, you weren't expecting it and didn't know how to react. What was he doing? Frollo continued to hold your hand, watching the small drop of blood ooze from your pricked finger, but his attention wasn't just there, it was on your fingers, your soft skin and the sensation it brought when you touched it with the contact of the warm hand and his, which was a little cold:

“What are you doing?” You asked, with a bit of hatred for such a vulgar and daring attitude, and he laughed a little.

“What would the church think of a woman exposing her bare hands in front of a high-ranking man like me?” You had no reaction for fear. Gradually his fingers entwined in yours and you saw that his eyes went to your small cleavage and your bare shoulders. “And it's not just your hands that are exposed...”

You quickly pulled your hand free and he looked at you incredulously:

“My hands are only exposed because I can't wear gloves when I sew, and you still don't have the right to do that. It's in the Bible; If your eye or your hand causes you to sin, throw it away!” A small smile came to Frollo's face when he heard that.

“So bold... It's typical of women like you to turn away from guilt in order to confuse men's minds with pagan thoughts, but that doesn't matter any more...”

He walked away, heading for the door to leave, but first his attention turned to you:

“It was a nice chat, seamstress... I want you to make me a cloak and sew me a pair of gloves, I'll be expecting you to deliver them tomorrow night.”

After saying that, he left, leaving you with no reaction to what had just happened. You were angry, but at the same time relieved that he hadn't found out. As soon as he left, you stared at your hand, which he touched and intertwined with his large, thin fingers. You'd have to be more careful now, he'd be stalking you and the reason wouldn't just be because he suspected you of helping the Romani people, it would be because of something else and you know exactly what it was and what his intentions were...

End...

[ruskaroma]

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 2: you get me closer to god.

Summary: John is a manipulator, and she, is the new subject of his obsession.

Warnings: this chapter contains stalking, mentions of large age gap, graphic descriptions of violence, and manipulation.

read the warnings. john is not only a menace, he is evilllll.

Author’s note: and we are back, baby. today, in this chapter, you are going to be witnessing a LOT of fucked up shit from none other than john wick himself. my man’s been doing a lot, god bless his poor soul.

also may i remind you all that the reader here is naive! she is stupid! she is not the brightest! she’s just desperate for attention and affection, so her decisions are always stupid and all of that. (please do not hate her, she is trying her best.)

this took me a while to write because it’s long asf and also because you know me, i always struggle with the english language, but i hope i won’t disappoint you with this chapter!

thank you so much for waiting and continuing to support this fic! really, it gives me a lot of motivation to keep writing, and i really appreciate all your sweet comments and reblogs on my last post.

i hope you also enjoy this new chapter since we’re going to have another peak of what goes on in john’s dark, dark mind. (I PROMISE THE SEX SCENE WOULD BE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER.)

and again, this is not edited so all mistakes are on me! i really do apologize, english is not my first language.

Word count: 10.6k

also read on AO3

In this business, you’d see different kinds of reactions when a man walks into a room.

They all see themselves above everybody else. They think they’re better, deadlier, smarter. That’s the kind of mindset you need if you want to survive. How will you get out of being held at gunpoint when you’re a weakling?

When a man walks into a room, they’ll take a moment to stare.

On the outside, you’d think these people have a lot of respect for one another since they all work in the same circle anyway. But in real life, you’d see the blatant lack of respect these people truly have for each other, because they’ll stare and judge.

When John walks into a room, it’s a different story.

Fear.

John is not like any other man in business they think they could just judge and get away with it, no. John is well respected and feared. He could see it in their eyes when he pass by. The extreme discomfort and alarm to be in the same presence as him. Even if they try so hard to hide it, John sees right through them.

They view him as… something but human. He’s a killing machine. An attack dog. A monster, some would even say. 

Back in the days, John wasn’t exactly fond of the names they’ve been giving him. When he was still new in the game, he didn’t like how he struck fear over these people because he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the power he truly has over them.

But now, something has shifted.

John is a free man. Not the kind of free when he was with Helen, but free nonetheless. Free because instead of getting alarmed with the fact that he’s feared all over this underworld, he’s taking advantage of it. Much to the higher ups dismay. They have been having a very hard time keeping up with his recent activities.

Growing up, it seemed like John got the worst sadistic discipline in Ruska Roma.

All of them did, don’t get him wrong. All of them suffered – blood, sweat and tears. They were all forced to go through extreme discipline, because it’s the crack of the whip that gets the rats going.

But John… John got the worst of it.

He used to take the fall for his fellow students. Fingers couldn’t count just how many times he was belted on the back for someone else’s mistake. The amount of times he was starved, denied of any kind of food or water, and that’s how it’s always been.

John has always been denied for the things he wanted. The things he needed.

Now, he is not greedy. He’s not just going to take everything in his way like a kid that got away from its parents’ grip, because he doesn’t want a lot of things. John already has a house, a dog companion, enough money to last forever.

John already has everything except her.

His most happy moments couldn’t compete with the hot curl within his guts that he feels every time his mind flashes back to that night. That night when she gave in, when she gave herself away to him – willingly. 

John didn’t need to give her a little push to finally get her. She practically offered herself to him, bared her neck and John’s itching to take a bite. To finally make her his once and for all, but really, he doesn’t need to do that to know that she’s his. 

Like he said, he’s not going to force himself into her life. He’s going to be welcomed. By the looks of it, it seems like it wouldn’t be such a hard thing to do after all. Not when she’s already giving up information about herself to John through texts – she’s practically making it easy for him to get her.

So naive. Doesn’t got a fucking clue in the world.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Fucking mine –

John looks at his phone, reading the messages both of them sent each other the night before, and there it is again. The itch in his hands, the need to possess.

13.06.15 11:46 PM

Bambi: hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM

Bambi: also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

John changed her name on his phone. He changed it to something more… intimate. More sweet. 

13.06.15 11:48 PM

John : I could never.

13.06.15 11:48 PM

John : You’re hard to forget.

He remembers – no, saw – how she responded. With a smile on her face, hopeful.

13.06.15 11:49 PM

Bambi : using my words against me, i see :D 

13.06.15 11:49 PM

Bambi : good to know you’re still as slick as the last time we chatted haha

13.06.15 11:49 PM

John : Hard not to. I wanted to impress you.

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : you already did.

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : with all your brooding and intimidating look. just my type ;D 

John smiles to himself as he reads the message. He remembers the look on her face when she’s typing, and hasn't got a clue that the man she’s flirting with was observing her just from across her building. John wouldn’t call it invading her privacy, he calls it keeping her safe.

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : anywho i asked for your number for a reason. i really do want to talk to you again. not just in chat, i mean, but also in real life :) 

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : maybe we could get to know each other more? what do you say??? meet up again, but this time planned unlike our other previous meetups?? haha

He is not a teenager to be feeling this giddy over reading messages, but she truly brings out something shameful in him.

13.06.15 11:51 PM

John : I should be the one asking you that.

13.06.15 11:51 PM

Bambi : you were taking too looonggg :( 

13.06.15 11:51 PM

Bambi : so what do ya think?

13.06.15 11:52 PM

John : Of course I’ll go. I told you I’d make time for you, didn’t I?

13.06.15 11:52 PM

John : I’m a man of my word.

13.06.15 11:52 PM

Bambi : ok that’s great! i was so worried you wouldn’t say yes.

John had averted his eyes from the phone that night and onto the little lady across the building. She was rolling around on her bed, still dressed in her pink, fluffy robe and her hair was still wet. She looks like a puppy that John wanted to pet; stroke her hair and tell her she’s his good girl.

13.06.15 11:52 PM

John : When do you want to meet? 

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : aahhhhh let’s see

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : i have classes tomorrow morning BUTTT we can def meet up during lunch! i get out of school at like 12 and go to work at 3 :D

I know, John wanted to say. I’ve memorized your everyday schedule in the span of two days.

13.06.15 11:53 PM

John : How about I pick you up from your school, we grab lunch, and I drop you off to work?

13.06.15 11:53 PM

John : Or is it too soon? 

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : oh my god no way REALLY?

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : nooo it’s not too soon don’t worry! you def could so we have more time to talk and everything! i just hope i won’t be bothering you or anything.

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : do you have work tomorrow? you look like a 9 to 5 kinda guy :P 

God, she’s fucking adorable. 

13.06.15 11:54 PM

John : I don’t, so you don’t have to worry. I’d love to talk to you more as well.

13.06.15 11:54 PM

Bambi : ok! i cannot wait for tomorrow. i should probably sleep now tho so i wouldn’t look shitty when you see me :D 

13.06.15 11:54 PM

Bambi : here is the address of my school. [Address]

13.06.15 11:54 PM

Bambi : can’t wait to see you tomorrow, john! goodnight, see you soon! x

13.06.15 11:55 PM

John : Goodnight, sweet girl. Have a good sleep.

John hadn’t meant to type that. He felt his heart drop to his stomach, terrified that he somehow scared her away with the sudden affection. But then he saw her read his message, dropped her phone on the bed, and then rolled over again like a lap dog.

She’s too easy to tame, so gullible. John almost couldn’t believe how fast she folded, how desperate she really is. But then again, he could say the same about himself. Lonely and desperate, they were meant to be together. He likes to believe God had put them in this position because of fate, because he has a plan for every single one of us.

John’s never been the one to believe in Him, but he finds himself grasping to that very little delusion that keeps him from going insane.

*

11:55 AM, the students are already making their way out of their designated buildings. 

John is keeping his guard on high alert, eyes scanning the crowd to find her. He’s parked just across the school gate, leaning against his car as he checks the time on his wrist. He’s also holding his phone in the other, waiting for it to vibrate in case she drops a message.

He’s never felt this giddy before. Hands clammy and eyes searching frantically, excited because he’s finally getting to spend alone time with her, but also worried in fear of losing her in the crowd. John doesn’t like it when he doesn’t have the upper hand. When he doesn’t have control of the situation. When she’s not in his line of vision and could be doing god knows what without his supervision.

He checks his phone again. 11:58, where is she?

John knows at this time, she should be out and about already, waiting for a cab to her apartment. His fingers itch, hovering over the screen of his phone. He begins contemplating if he should send a message, but that would make him look demanding and clingy. He doesn’t want to leave that kind of impression on her, or otherwise he’d have no choice but to abduct her and keep her locked away if she thinks about running –

He blinks, sucking in deep breath. 

“Shit,” he whispers, looking up to the school gate again. This isn’t good. What the fuck was he even thinking? 

John tries not to think about it. Tries to convince himself that he is not as fucked up as his mind is making him out to be. He wouldn’t stoop that low, he’s not that cruel –

Are you not?

A certain someone appears in the crowd, standing outside the school gate, already spotting John and waving at him from across the road. Her face is bright, smiling wide. John never wanted to possess something so bad.

He waves back, all his dark thoughts suddenly gone, and everything is rainbows and sunshine. John watches as she crosses the road carefully, looking left and right, seeming small with the people around her. She looks like a lost puppy.

John wants to pet.

“John, hey!” she beams, running up to him to give him a hug which catches John off guard. She’s on her tiptoes just to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders, and John doesn’t want to make her upset for not immediately reacting with her affection, and so he puts his arm around her waist and bends down to place his chin on her shoulder. 

He fights the urge to bury his nose in her neck, then maybe sucks a few hickeys, leaving a bite mark to show that the big, bad wolf has already marked his mate.

She’s so fucking easy to get, John thinks.

When she pulls away from the hug, John tries not to look disappointed. Her cologne lingers in his nose. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“You don’t ever need to say sorry for that,” John says, faux stern as he places a hand on her waist subtly. She looks like she doesn’t mind, that’s a good thing.

“Okay then,” she smiles politely. “Oh, and I’m sorry if I look like a mess. Just say the words and I would totally change to more appropriate clothes before we go somewhere.”

“You look beautiful,” John says smoothly, standing up straight. Even though she looks underdressed next to John who’s wearing a three-piece suit, she is still heart-wrenchingly beautiful. In fact, John likes the contrast.

“T-thanks.”

“Should we go?”

“Sure! I’m excited,” she giggles, the sound practically dancing in his ear. “I’m hungry. Where will we eat?”

“Hm, what do you like?” he asks.

“Dunno. Burger and milkshake.”

“Sounds unhealthy.”

“The only thing I can afford, unfortunately,” she jokes, though John doesn’t answer, only opening the car door for her. “We should eat in a diner. I know a good one! Also cheap, so you won’t have to worry about the price.”

“I never worry about the price, darling,” John murmurs, but still loud enough for her to hear as she gets inside the vehicle. He swiftly walks to the driver’s seat and starts the car, glancing at his little bambi who’s observing the interior intensely. “You like it?”

“It’s so cool. I’ve never been in a car like this.”

“You’re going to have a lot of firsts when you’re with me.”

As John starts driving, the girl beside him babbles. Not that he minds, of course. He listens and nods, so obsessed with her voice that he could listen to it forever. It’s amazing how John could easily hide the fact that he was just stalking her from across her apartment the night before in the back of his mind, like it never even happened. It’s amazing how he could act like he wasn’t just thinking about kidnapping her and locking her away from the public forever.

But then again, everything about his little bambi would make anyone risk it all for her.  It’s not just John. Anyone would do the same if they were in his shoes.

“How was school?” John asks, averting his eyes from the road for a moment to look at her.

“Eh, it was alright. Classes always drain me, no wonder I’m so hungry now,” she answers politely. One of the few things John noticed about her. How she doesn’t run out of things to say, how she can get the conversation going. “How about you? You going to work after our lunch? You’re dressed up for it.”

“I took the day off today,” he replies vaguely.

“What? Why?”

“I have a date with you.”

She seems to be shocked by John’s choice of words, but she’s more concerned with the fact that John took the day off for her. “Y-yeah, but you didn’t have to do that. We could just go on a date next time.”

“The sooner, the better,” he explains, feeling another surge of something hot into his veins. She agreed that this is a date. Just how fucking gullible can she get? “Work is no problem for me. I want to get to know you more.”

“O-okay. I wanna get to know you more too.”

When John catches a glimpse of her bright smile beaming at him, his hands tighten around the wheel and he steps on the gas harder.

*

John doesn’t like how his mind isn’t making him remember about Helen.

He should be remembering her. He should feel some kind of guilt for being in a restaurant with another woman, but he doesn’t. Every single day since she died, his mind would always make him think about her. But now, it’s like John completely forgot about her existence at all.

The wedding ring on his finger is long gone. Ever since his unhealthy obsession began, he thought that wearing that while doing something so sinful felt so wrong. Helen shouldn’t have to witness all the things he had done in the name of a girl he had only met once that time.

The diner isn’t packed with people. The sizzling of the burgers grilling on the pan and the chatters seem to drown out eventually when his little bambi starts talking.

John gives her a small smile, barely there, just to show her that he’s listening, all his attention is on her.

“Time seems to pass by so fast, huh? I remember when I bumped into you the first time, I really thought I wouldn’t see you again,” she starts the conversation with a bang, but thankfully John’s prepared for this type of talk.

“So you really wanted to see me then?” he smirks slightly.

“Yeah! You’re really good looking and it’s not always I see a guy as handsome as you in my apartment complex and my school,” she says bluntly, though John could see the faint blush on her cheeks when she mentions the word ‘good looking.’ “So of course I had to take my chance when I met you again at that club! God, you were my knight in shining armor. I would’ve been crushed to death if it wasn’t for you.”

“That’s why you should always be careful on the road. You’re small, everyone could look past you if you weren’t careful enough.”

She pouts, placing her chin on her hand as she stares lovingly at John. “You’re exaggerating. I’m not small. You’re just saying that because you’re too big. And I’m always careful on the road – it was only that time that I lost balance and almost fell.”

“Then it better not happen again,” John says sharply, leaning back against the cushioned seat as he stares back at her challengingly. “But there’s no need to worry for the next time. I won’t let that happen again.”

“Next time?” she teases. “So you want to see me again next time, then?”

“Have I not made it clear with my actions and words?” John shoots back, raising another eyebrow. She likes it when he’s being stern like this. All authoritative. She might not know it yet, but her body language speaks for itself. “Do you want to see me again?”

The little bambi smiles brightly, and It hurts. It hurts John to see that smile because she’s just like the sun. But no matter how much she shines, John would do anything just to touch. Just to possess. Just to break.

“Of course! I wouldn’t have gotten your number if I didn’t, right?”

“Good.”

It’s not like she could do much anyways if she says no. Nothing will ever stop John from seeing her again, no matter how bad the procedure would be.

The food then arrives and is served on the table, and John thinks he has never felt anything like this before.

His hands have never felt this itchy before. That desperate, longing feeling to just possess the very thing that’s placed right in front of you. Everything about her is just so captivating, staring up at John like he’s the one who hung the moon, so full of adoration and hope.

Seems like John isn’t the only desperate one between the two of them. He could see it in her eyes. She’s practically begging him to take care of her.

And really, he can’t blame her.

An absent mother and an alcoholic father. No wonder she’s seeking attention from a man like John. A man old enough to be her father – if not older than her own father. John would be more than willing to fulfill the role her father failed to be when she was young. He’d do anything to protect her, morals be damned.

She looks too good to be true sitting right in front of him and he didn’t think watching someone devour a burger twice as big as her face would be so endearing. The way she licks her lips, the way her eyes sparkle every time John would pay attention to the little things she’d absentmindedly insert in her stories. No one must’ve given her this kind of attention before. No one but John.

“Oh, before I forget!” She places a hand on John’s arm that’s perched on the table. A mere innocent touch, yet he can’t help but feel a little giddy on the inside. “We’ve been talking for like, an hour now, and I still haven’t asked what your job is. I’ve been really curious ever since you told me you took a day off just for this. Are you like the boss or something?”

Ah. Of course.

A question like this is inevitable, thank god John came prepared. 

“No,” he simply says. “I’m a book binder. I collect and restore books as both a hobby and job.”

“Wow,” she nods her head, now interested as she leans forward and closer to him. She smells so sweet, John feels like he’s snorting sugar. “I didn’t think book binding could earn you so much money. Considering you’re dressed pretty… comfortably. And you have a nice car.”

“It pays enough,” John replies. Sooner or later she’d find out what he really does for a living, and no doubt she’d be scared. John already has a plan of action for when that would happen, but for now, he’ll try to keep it a secret as long as he can. “Pays enough to let me spoil you in the future. In fact, I think I might just start spoiling you now.”

“You say that to every woman you meet?” She quirks an eyebrow, teasing. 

“Just for you. You’re special.”

John sees the way she immediately turns shy and nervous from the statement. It must’ve felt overwhelming, having someone so much older and with more experience to hit on her like that. But John would say it brings a whole different feeling in him, like ego-lifting of some sort, knowing he just might be the only man that treated her right in her life.

Does killing one of her guy friends and storing him in his basement means treating her right? Does stalking her and watching her sleep from across the building is a way to treat her right? Different story to be told for another day.

“I believe you,” she says, smiling. 

Of course you do.

John diverts her attention from him. “You’re a veterinary student and also part time in a veterinary clinic. What made you want to pursue it?”

“Uh, let’s see. I don’t really have like, a very logical reason for it. I just really love animals and I want them to be part of my job as well,” she shrugs. “As for the part time thing, one of my older friends works there and got me in to gain some experience. I don’t really do much, I help with the paperworks and watch how they do stuff around there.”

I know.

“Your unconditional love for animals is logical enough.”

“I know right. Best job in the world, I might add. I get to pet all kinds of different animals everyday, and mind you I’m not even a real doctor yet,” she giggles, then tilts her head in curiosity. “Do you have a pet, John?”

“I do. I have a dog,” he answers, taking a sip of his own milkshake. It’s sweet, it’s something he’s not used to, but it reminds him of her. “Unfortunately, I haven’t named her yet.”

She frowns. “Why not?”

“I don’t know how to. I’m not good with names,” John shrugs. This conversation with her alone just might be the longest conversation he’s ever shared with someone ever since Helen died. And even with his late wife, he wasn’t as talkative as this. “Maybe you could name her. She’s a large pitbull but surprisingly very gentle for her size.”

“Oh my god, John, I have to meet her!” She beams. “Maybe on our next date, don’t you think? Let’s bring her with us to the park, have a little picnic there or something.”

Next date.

She wants to go on another date with him and she is making this a lot easier for John.

His lips stretch into a rare smile, fingers twitching subtly around the glass as he stares right into her eyes. There’s no hidden intention behind them, just pure adoration with a twinge of hope. Probably hopes that John wants the same thing as her, but he wouldn’t let her know that she is in for a lot more than she bargained for.

“I can’t wait for our next one.”

*

John could still remember the little things that made him feel human. 

Back in the Marines, when he first killed somebody, he felt a tremendous amount of guilt and self-hating that he couldn’t sleep for a week. He’d have nightmares of it; of holding his gun up to somebody’s head and blowing it up with just one single movement. The residue of the flesh splattered all over his face, some of them even went to his mouth. His hands shaked but he didn’t let his crew see it. In their eyes, that wasn’t the first time he had done it.

When he was recruited by Viggo and his little minions, the guilt of killing people was still there, but barely. He used to wish he didn’t feel any guilt or remorse at all every time he pulled a trigger, but looking back at it now, he wishes he could just take it all back. It was only guilt that he felt most of his life, but it made John human.

Now, he doesn’t feel very human as he stands in the middle of an abattoir holding a machete with pints of blood pooling at his shoes.

Back then, he used to kill. Point, shoot, leave. A very short routine he told himself to stick with unless he wanted to get in trouble. But now, he is not only just killing. John is fucking slaughtering people.

His eyes land on the dead body hanging from the meat hook. Naked, gutted alive just a few moments ago. His stomach is sliced open with his own intestines wrapped around his neck, and it fucking stinks.

The raw stench of human blood mixing with the already reeking smell of the slaughtered pigs hanging just besides the one John had slaughtered himself. 

Really, John should feel even just a little amount of remorse or disgust. His client didn’t particularly gave him a specific order on how to fucking kill the target, John did it himself. He didn’t know what the fuck was he thinking when he was doing the wet work, all he knows is that he’s getting worse each day that passes.

The killing part took some time considering the man certainly put up a fight. He was smuggling drugs inside the pigs he was slaughtering. It works on people too, though it’s too risky. Dying with balloons of cocaine up your throat or ass isn’t exactly the way you’d want to die, nor the kind of state you want your body to be in.

John really didn’t mean to go this far, but all the pent up anger and frustration led him to do something so ugly. He feels like a ticking bomb. Every second a little part of humanity just starts fading away, who knows what would happen if all of it were gone. 

This is his first kill since his date with his bambi. That was five days ago. John decided to take another job while he’s waiting for her next decision. He doesn’t want to look clingy and creepy by constantly texting her every chance he gets, so he lets her do it in her own phase. Though, waiting for her texts sure did take a lot of rampant rage on John’s side. Lots of broken furniture and a creepy amount of hours watching her sleep from across the building. 

Just because John is letting her do her own thing for the meantime, doesn’t mean he gets to take his eyes off of her. It’s for the best. 

Their last conversation was yesterday. It was a pretty long conversation, but not long enough for John’s satisfaction. She left it off by saying she’s going to be busy studying for her test and cleaning her apartment, which John didn’t have the time to check if she was telling the truth since he was busy himself.

John is dying to see her again but he knows he’s gonna have to wait it out in the Continental. Or maybe if he’s feeling a little bit insane, he’d ditch having to rest and spend his time sitting on a dusty chair in the same dusty room he’s been staying in for awhile; the building across from her apartment. But until then he’ll have to see where time will take him.

His phone ringing in his jacket is what snaps him from his thoughts. Bringing a bloodied hand to get it, he almost couldn’t press the screen by the slippery liquid covering his fingers. John presses the phone to his ear, waiting for the person to speak.

“Hey, boss. How’s Russia treating you so far? Hopefully not great ‘cause I’ve got some news that will cheer you up.” The deep voice of Alex echoes in the abattoir. It must’ve slipped John’s mind that he had sent Alex again to tail her again while he’s out overseas.

He furrows his brows, curious. “How is she?”

“Hm, let’s see here. Your little pet has been up and about all day with her little friends after they’ve finally noticed the disappearance of that little shit we took care of a while back – speaking of which, how is he by the way?”

“Rotting. Dissolving in my basement,” John replies, hands tightening around the handle of the machete. So this is what she’s been doing and the reason why she hasn’t messaged him all day. “I say the fucker got what he deserved. He’s a creep who preys on women to rape, I’m just thankful we got him out of the way before he got to her.”

“Yeah, well. She doesn’t know that and I doubt she’d even stop looking for her creepy friend unless they’ve found him. What do you want me to do?”

“Give it a day or two. Wait for me to get back and I’ll take it from there.”

“Anything else?” John hears loud chattering in the background, he furrows his brows.

“Yeah. Where are you right now?”

“Uhh, keeping her in my sight like you told me to?” Alex sounds particularly sassy. John doesn’t know if he should be pleased or not. “She’s at a restaurant. I think she’s having a meeting with her other friends or something – she looks upset.”

“Upset because of her missing friend, I assume.”

“Probably. Have you talked to her at all today, boss? Pretty sure I have not yet seen her pick up her phone all day.”

“No,” John simply says. “But she will. I’m sure of it.”

“I see you’ve finally gotten her dependent on you now.”

“Not enough, apparently, since she’s gone a full day without talking to me.”

“Well, you’re definitely getting there,” Alex says under his breath. “I’m going now, boss. They’re leaving to god knows where.”

John doesn’t say anything else, only ending the call and pocketing back his phone. He looks around the area, the coppery smell of blood is stronger than before. He is the reason why it stinks in here, the reason why there’s so much blood and brutality. The body that hangs right in front of him is lifelessly staring with dead, cold eyes. John resists the urge to shove a balloon of fucking cocaine into his stomach, the same thing he’s been doing with these pigs, brutalize him more if that’s even possible, but he knows it wouldn’t help his already worsening mentality.

The thought of someone seeing this body and thinking about how fucked up the person who did this doesn’t concern him as much as it should. 

Instead, John turns his heels and walks away from the scene. 

*

Unsurprisingly, getting her to depend on John isn’t the hardest task to do.

It just might be the easiest.

The moment John arrives at the Continental, he takes his time to message his bambi. It’s only reasonable, he wouldn’t come out as a clingy creep since it’s been a full day since his last message, he has every right to know what and how she’s doing despite already getting enough pictures and updates from Alex.

He asks her how she’s been, waits for approximately ten minutes before he finally gets a reply. In those ten minutes, John takes his time scrolling through the pictures Alex had sent him. Pictures of her bundled up in large, colorful sweaters and wearing a frown on her pretty face. She looks rough, but she makes looking rough look good.

Bambi : hi, john :(( sorry i didn’t text you all day. was busy with something 

John : That’s alright, I understand. I’m just glad you replied. Did something come up? Was it about school?

Bambi : kind of. my friend from school is missing and we don’t know where he is. we’re worried because he hasn’t answered any of our calls for a week and his apartment is practically empty.

Reading that almost makes him resist an urge to sickly smile to himself. His fingers hover the screen, careful of what his next words might be. 

John : I’m sorry to hear that. Have you gotten any updates from the police? What did they say?

Bambi : nothing yet unfortunately. no one saw him the night he went missing :( 

John : I’m sure you’ll find him soon enough. I hope nothing extremely bad happened to your friend.

He sounds… manipulating. There aren’t any more words that could describe what John is doing to her. He doesn’t even know if he can still make up excuses to tell himself that everything is completely fine and normal.

The girl that he likes is currently sharing about the horrifying tragedy her ‘friend’ is facing, the horrifying tragedy being John’s fault, and he’s fucking lying about it. And what truly terrifies him the most is not about the fact that he’s manipulating her, he’s terrified because it feels normal and just… fine.

Normal, normal, normal–

Can John really win her over by going this path? If not, would it really matter?

He will still have the upper hand if this doesn’t end well. But then again, there’s a very small chance that it wouldn’t – if not none at all. John just needs to play his cards well and there wouldn’t be a problem. 

Bambi : thank you john. really hope that too. it doesn’t feel the same without him

John’s jaw ticks.

What do you mean it doesn’t feel the same without that fucker? I killed him for you! He was a creep who only wanted to fuck you and take you away from me and–

A dangerous feeling suddenly surge into his veins that he wants to put back together all the pieces of that fucker just to destroy it in his hands once again.

Maybe mutilating him and dissolving him in pure acid just isn’t enough. Maybe he deserved more. Maybe John should’ve took his fucking time torturing that little shit instead of killing him instantly.

John : And how are you? I hope you’re not too worried about this matter that you start to forget about taking care of yourself.

Bambi : i’m doing fine, but a bit sad bc of it. i also miss you and i wish u’re here so i wouldn’t be too sad

And just like that, it’s like all his resentment and rage just one minute prior vanished in a snap of a finger. A small smile makes its way to his face and a surge of ego soars into his chest. She has no idea she’s got a dangerous assassin wrapped around her finger and the consequences it’d bring her.

Bambi : are u still overseas? when will you be back?

John : Tomorrow, hopefully.

John : And I miss you too, sweetheart. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I finish work.

Bambi : can’t wait to see you. do u want me to pick u up at the airport? :D

John : Thank you, baby, but that won’t be necessary. I don’t want to keep you busy when you already have too much in your hands.

Bambi : mkay. but call me or text me when u arrive, ok?

John : Of course.

*

John is not stupid.

If he ever noticed a man following his every step, he didn’t once care or say a word.

It’s one of Winston’s men, obviously, following him around throughout his business in Russia up to boarding the same plane as him back to New York. Considering John had managed to catch on pretty quickly at the fact that Winston sent someone to trail him, this poor guy is not doing a particularly good job.

At first, John thought about taking care of the guy himself and bringing Winston a souvenir of his dog’s fingers or even one of his eyeballs, but decided that he is not that cruel.

He could be, but knowing he holds all the power over several people under The Table makes John wants to play the game a little longer and just fucking shiver in excitement.

Obviously Winston had noticed that John is up to no good. Not that it’s any of his business, he’s more likely just scared for his own life. He’s probably thinking it was a bad idea to bring John back into the game now that he’s living up to the horrors of his reputation and giving people exactly what they wanted.

When John first returned to the field, it was only to avenge his late wife and nothing more. But now that a bigger monster has grown within him over the course of his stay, he’s now also looking for the fuel to his fire.

And boy did he find it.

The fuel being in the form of a young woman who’s unaware of how much power she has over John. It’s only a matter of time before all hell breaks loose. 

*

10:56 PM.

“Hello.”

“Hello? John?”

“It’s me, darling. How are you?”

“Doing fine. Studying for my exam and all. Why are you calling at this hour, though?”

“Just wanted to let you know that I just arrived back in New York and see how you’re doing.”

“Oh, John, it’s so late. I was thinking earlier that you would arrive tomorrow morning or afternoon, you didn’t tell me you boarded a flight.”

“I wanted to be back as soon as possible and wanted to surprise you, but my flight got delayed so I only just arrived now.”

A soft laugh rings in his ear.

“You’re so cheeky. We can just meet up tomorrow if you’d like, go on a picnic at a park or something. I really, really wanna meet your dog.”

John hears a sigh, then the sound of paper rustling in the background. He counts – one, two, three – here it comes.

“I miss you, John.”

He pushes the curtain aside with two fingers, peering his eyes in the small opening as he watches the figure at the other side of the building. She’s sitting on her study desk in front of a laptop, freshly showered and wearing specs that John can’t help his heart to ache.

It’s been so long.

“I miss you too, sweetheart. Couldn’t stop thinking about you when I was away.”

“That’s very sweet. I hope you brought souvenirs for me, though, or otherwise I will be very sad.”

“How can I forget? I bought everything that reminded me of you when I was there.”

“Now you’re just spoiling me.” Another laugh, then John sees her getting up from the chair and laying on the bed. “I’m happy that I’d get to see you again tomorrow, John. Everything that’s been happening is just so… I don’t know. Stressful, I guess. From my friend missing and school work, I don’t even know where to start. I just wanna be with you again.”

The mention of her friend Jay ticks him the wrong way, but he can’t also help but notice the longing and desperation laced in her voice as she said the last part. John knows it wouldn’t be too hard for her to be dependent on him, he just didn’t expect it to be this easy. They’ve only met once in real life, but their constant texting and calling through the phone makes it up for it. 

“Don’t let yourself worry too much on matters that don’t concern you.”

Silence, then John watches her bite her nail anxiously. “What do you mean by that, John?”

He doesn’t particularly like the way his name just rolls off her tongue like that – like she’s his age, the same way Helen used to call him. He doesn’t want to be reminded of Helen when he’s with his little bambi, it just makes him feel even shittier with the situation. It sorta reminds John how much he truly changed when he lost Helen.

“Don’t worry about your friend too much. I know it’s hard that he’s missing, but don’t put him first before your own well being,” John advises, manipulation just dripping off his tongue like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He doubts she would notice, though. “I’m sure the police got it covered by now. I’m more worried about you.”

John could still see her expression through the window despite being far away. She’s thinking about it, letting herself get swayed by his lies and persuasion. She’s too easy, she just doesn’t know it herself, but John does. And he’s going to take advantage of it as much as he can. 

He counts again – one, two, three – and she’s dropping her hand to the bed and sighing softly. There she is.

“Okay. You’re probably right, I worry too much.”

John doesn’t reply but gives a silent hum that indicates he’s agreeing. He sees her taking off her glasses and putting it on the bedside table, suddenly the itch in his hands is back.

There’s a voice nagging at the back of his head and asking him just what the fuck is he doing, that he should stop this madness before it gets out of hand, but would that really make a difference? Even if John did stop, he’d still continue to live with the fact that he was a monster who stalked a young woman out of sheer obsession. He’d already got her dependent on him, he’d already laid out the plan on how this would turn out, why is he suddenly questioning now?

He had done stuff that was worse than manipulating. He didn’t feel a single drop of empathy when he was slaughtering people and shooting them in the head, but why does he feel guilty manipulating her?

“John? Did you already fall asleep on me?”

Soft voice snaps him out of his thoughts, then it’s followed by a soft giggle. John feels butterflies exploding in his stomach. 

“Sorry. I was just–”

“It’s okay, John, you can sleep. You’ve probably had a long day since you’ve been on a flight and everything. I’m going to sleep now too, we have a date tomorrow, remember? Don’t forget.” The faux strictness in her voice makes him smile, then he sees her smiling just as big through the window; giddy and excited. “Goodnight, John. It’s really nice talking to you again. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up first, smiling to herself before putting the phone back to her nightstand. She settles on the bed comfortably, tucking herself into her blanket, unaware of the fact that there’s a monster lurking on the other building, watching her every move like a hawk.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the old mirror on the dusty wall, dressed in black and predatory, reminiscent of the devil himself. 

Might as well live up to the name.

*

John is aware of how dead he looks in people’s eyes. He barely smiles, he’s always dressed in black, and he always has trouble showing emotions through his face. He makes sure that he gives off that aura that shows how much he dislikes everyone in the fucking room. How much he just wants to pull out his gun and shoot every single one of them in the head.

John despises the way they look at him. Like they pity him for losing his wife, for getting dragged back to the life he had already left. Though, he can’t really blame them, really. He used to pity himself too, even now for letting himself get even worse, but he wouldn’t really call it pity. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s not pity.

The next day is interesting, to say the least.

He couldn’t get a minute of sleep the night before, the image of her sleeping so peacefully without a worry in the world bored into his mind. It’s extremely fascinating to him just how careless and… dumb she is. Dumb in a way that it’s benifiting John – the both of them, actually – and not in an offensive kind of way.

It was around two in the morning when he returned back to the hotel, managed to sleep for an hour or two before ripping off the blankets and had a drink the first thing in the morning. John didn’t bother taking a nap after that, just walking around the room making sure all is well and everything will be according to plan.

At 8 AM, she texted John a good morning and said it would be better for their date to be at 4 PM. John then replied that it was perfect, though he doubts he can wait that long.

12 PM, for a man as calm and collected as John, he sure as hell can’t fucking sit still in one place.

He’s paranoid. No amount of texts from his bambi is enough to keep him calm. The time is ticking too slowly for his liking and he has no other things to do in his free time. Except be paranoid.

John grabs his coat, kisses his dog goodbye and decides to stop by a grocery store to prepare for their date. He should at least make them both a sandwich and buy drinks, knowing that the little gesture would be enough to put a smile on her face.

1 PM, John comes back with shit ton of paper bags in his arms. He’s doing too much, he knows it, but too much is still better than not enough.

John goes to the kitchen to prepare. The orphanage taught him how to cook – well, not really. John taught himself how to cook, because if he’s not going to cook for himself and half of the kids back in Ruska, they’d all be dead with no survival instincts to save them from starvation. Being an assassin who could withstand any form of torture all while not knowing how to cook would be the greatest joke of the century. John’s not the one to be laughed out.

2 PM, everything is settled and in place, his little bambi texts him to let him know that she’s getting ready and cannot wait for their date. John then takes his time to get ready too.

3 PM, John is dressed in a nice white t-shirt with a brown leather jacket on top. He looks civilised, no one would know a damn thing that he’s one of the most feared men in the underworld who slaughters people for a living.

His dog is quiet in the corner, chewing on her bone toy until John puts a collar and leash around her neck. Her eyes perks up in excitement, already knowing they would go outside to play. John always takes his time making sure she gets to socialize with other dogs, whether it’s in a park or just down the street.

“You’re excited, baby?” John murmurs, petting her ears softly as he kneels down to her position. “You’re gonna meet someone special. Want you to be nice to her, alright? She’s gonna be your mom.”

John hauls everything into his car in a matter of minutes. The picnic basket, the blanket, his gifts for his little one that he got from Russia, also including his dog. She’s behaved yet excited as she peeks in the mirror watching her owner work.

He slides into the driver’s seat and locks his seatbelt, starting up the car and driving away from the hotel. Earlier, John had seen a couple of his co-workers loading up his trunk dressed like he’s going on a date – because he is – no doubt they’re snitching and would tell Winston. He couldn’t care less.

He arrives outside her apartment after thirty minutes, parking his car right by the entrance. He can’t help but grimace as he looks around the place. He remembers meeting her here, the day after he killed that good-for-nothing junkie. He wonders if she ever got the news, how she reacted when someone got killed the same day John was visiting her area.

It won’t be long before she wouldn’t be living in this area no more. It’s too dangerous, filled with a bunch of goons who get themselves tangled up in petty gang wars. John knows a gangster when he sees one, and it looks like every single man who lives in these crowded apartments are either pushers or gangsters with no sense of direction in life.

She doesn’t belong here. She should be in John’s house, locked up and isolated where she’s safe under his supervision. He would treat her like a princess, give her the things she deserve.

John gets out of the car, pulls out his phone and sends her a message to let her know he’s outside her building. He leans against the car as he waits.

A minute passes and a very happy bambi appears in the elevator, dressed in a pretty sundress and a white tote bag with a text John can’t see. She’s beaming up at him as she exits the building, and John hasn’t got the time to react before she’s lunging herself forward and going on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Whoa easy,” John murmurs, immediately wrapping his arms around her waist for support, placing his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling her scent; it’s sweet, not a surprise. “You miss me that much?”

“So much, you don’t even wanna know,” she murmurs in his chest, not quite reaching his neck despite being on her tiptoes. “I hope you miss me just as much.”

John pulls away, gives her a look as he places her large hands on her hips. “I might’ve missed you more than you missed me.”

She giggles, John could see her eyes through the heart-shaped sunglasses she’s wearing. It’s cute. “That’s not possible, I will fight you for it.”

“Hm,” John hums, eyes wandering down her lips to her dress. It stops just above her knees, John has to mentally prepare himself for the worst. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she says sheepishly. “You like it? I think it’s the perfect picnic outfit.”

“I love it,” John clarifies. “Looks perfect on you.”

“You look gorgeous yourself,” she giggles, eyeing John up and down teasingly, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. He isn’t so sure how to react to that, hopefully his dick wouldn’t take the liberty to rise from the dead at this moment. “This is the first time I’ve seen you not wearing any suits. Domestic looks good on you.”

“What can I say, I’m a changed man.” John means both good and bad. “And before we go, I want to introduce you to someone.”

Before she gets a chance to ask, John slides out of the way from his position of covering the car window and reveals a very happy pitbull waiting to be introduced to her mother.

Her smile is wide when she spots John’s pet excitedly wagging her tail inside the car. “Oh my god, she is beautiful! John, open the door, hurry, hurry, hurry–”

“Okay, okay–”

The moment John pulls the door open, the dog comes rushing out to jump and starts licking her face.

“Oh, lookie here, baby! You’re such a cutie! What’s your name, hm? Don’t got a name yet? Your dad can’t think of a name to give ya’?” 

Her giggles are like music to his ears.

The sound of paws pattering on the concrete and her high pitched voice talking to the dog fills the empty street in a matter of seconds. When she isn’t looking, John begins looking around the area, his eyes landing on the apartment building where he preys at some nights. 

There’s a person at the front desk, staring at him like he knows something, and like a switch that goes off in his brain, John recognizes this man as the same one who bumped into him a few nights ago in the hallway in front of the abandoned room where he’s staying.

They meet eyes, John flashes him a knowing look, then the man immediately looks away.

John’s jaw ticks. He’s gonna have to deal with that later.

He turns his attention back to where it’s most needed. She’s still playing with the dog, crouching beside the car while the puppy just drowns in her affection. John really hates to break the moment.

“Shall we get going?” He interjects, voice deeper than usual, still feeling a little on the edge from that man by the front desk earlier.

“Sure. She gonna be in the backseat?”

“You bet.”

John opens the door for the both of them and lets her help the puppy get inside. Before he slams the door close, he makes sure to take another look at the apartment, seeing the man already staring back at him.

Yeah. He’s really gonna have to deal with that later.

*

They arrive at the park around 4:25 and John is the one to set up their spot while she and the puppy play in the empty field. It’s empty, totally empty, and John couldn’t be more thankful than that since he really doesn’t want to be around other people besides her. She’s the only one that matters.

John notices that she brought her own dog toys, probably the ones she keeps to herself since she does work in a vet clinic after all. The sight of her happily running around the grass with his dog is enough to bring him to his knees, he is only but a man.

John calls her to eat and the two of them come running towards him and plops down on the soft blanket next to the basket full of fruits.

“Had fun?” John speaks, sitting beside her on the ground as he watches her get a plate of pasta for the two of them. She insists she gets to plate their food, John lets her.

“Very. Didn’t know she’s quite energetic, luckily for her I can match her energy extremely well.”

“It comes with being young, I guess. Can’t really relate,” he jokes, receiving the plate full of pasta she gives him while she snickers at the statement.

“Come on, John. You’re still fit despite being old.” John watches her take a bite of the food. He’s not subtle, he’s straight up staring at her lips as she wraps her mouth around the fork, savoring the flavor with closed eyes. “Hm, this is delicious. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“By myself,” he shrugs, taking a bite of his food to keep him from taking a bite of her instead. “I’m surprised you aren’t creeped out.”

“With what?”

“With my age,” John makes it clear. “You’re young with a bright future ahead of you–”

“Yet here I am having a date with an old man?” she interjects, wiggles her eyebrows, teasing clearly with the way she emphasizes the last part. “I can’t believe you thought I’m gonna get creeped out. You’re a grown man with a stable job and not to mention very hot, I find that very sexy.”

“You think I’m sexy?” he raises a brow.

“Yes, I think you’re very sexy. I haven’t once encountered a guy my age who has the same status as you,” she sets down the plate on her lap for a moment. “You know, experienced and mature.”

“I see,” John nods. It’s very clear that she’s always found the people who contrast her so well attractive. She wants a savior that would save her from everything, luckily John fits in the description quite too well. 

They delve in a normal conversation after that. John makes sure to steer away all questions regarding him and his life, a way to learn more about her other than the pictures and videos and information he’d been sent by Alex.

John already knows a lot about her, it wouldn’t hurt to learn a little more.

Ten minutes go by, a bottle of wine has been pulled out of the basket and she’s spilling her whole life to John in a matter of moments. From lttle memories from childhood to how she moved from her hometown to New York to get away from her father. How when she was younger, she begged her toys to talk to her and she wouldn’t tell anyone. How their family pet back in the days impacted the choices she made to choose her career path – to become a veterinarian.

John listens. He’s always been good at listening instead of talking, so he listens. 

5 PM, the two of them play with the dog and she decides to name her “Blue.”

“Is it because she has blue eyes?” John asks.

“Yeah. Not really original, I know, but it fits her.”

“Blue is perfect.”

It’s already 6 PM when they decide to head home. She’s still talking the moment they’re in the car and John is still listening. There’s something about her voice that just… pulls him in. It’s so sweet and soft.

When they arrive outside her apartment complex, it’s dead silent. 

“I really enjoyed our date today, John,” she smiles when he opens the door for her, now standing in front of him and looking up to meet his eyes. “The pasta was delicious. I hope I get to eat more of them in the future – and oh, I really, really enjoyed playing with Blue! I’m so thankful that you let me name her even though it wasn’t really special–”

“Hush,” John jokingly interrupts. “The night might be over, but I can assure you that I will see you soon again.”

“How soon would that be again?”

“Eager to see me already?”

“Maybe.”

“You know I always make time for you, sweetheart,” John croons, placing a large hand on her chin and staring deeply into her eyes. “Is it too early for me to kiss you?”

She laughs, then wraps her arms around his waist to pull him in closer. John looks at her and falls in love for what to be a millionth time today. She never fails to take his breath away. “Not too early, I promise you. You should’ve done that sooner.”

“Well, I’m gonna do it now.”

Before she can add another word, John leans down to smash his lips against hers, his large hand finding its way on the small of her back to deepen the kiss that she can’t help but whimper into his mouth.

Fuck.

Her lips are so, so soft. John can still taste the lingering sweetness of the wine from earlier and being so close to her that her scent is shutting off his entire brain. If he won’t stop, he might just end up fucking her on the hood of his car until she can’t walk straight.

Their lips move in tandem and she’s following his head like she always does. Her small hands are gripping his leather jacket for support, so pliant and vulnerable, already trusting him enough to kiss him on their second date. 

This is a sudden shift in his universe, John knows he’s already won.

He’s the first to pull away and their lips are wet and connected with saliva. She’s flushed and out of breath like expected, John wants nothing more but to break her and make her his.

Oh wait, she already is.

“How was that?” John asks, voice deep.

“I wanna do it again.”

He chuckles, rubbing his thumb on her cheeks while she’s busy avoiding his eyes. “Let’s save it for next time.”

He’s gonna control himself.

“That next time better come by fast,” she threatens jokingly. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Don’t talk like you’re not gonna see me for days, baby,” John whispers. “You know I won’t let you go that easily. You’re mine now.”

He doesn’t miss the way her pupils dilated and the way the clutch she has on his leather jackets becomes tighter. She’s already fallen deep into his trap, John wants to push his claws in even deeper.

“Say it again,” she mutters, leaning in against his warm large hand as she closes her eyes. “Say it again. Please.”

John smiles when she isn’t looking. He really won.

“You’re mine.”

*

That same night, 4 AM, John is back in his work clothes and arranging something in a dark room.

The stench of metallic blood hitting his nose, and he stands in the middle of the room to inhale that scent – god, does he truly miss it.

The sight of a man in front of him wakes something dangerous within John’s veins. Hands tied up behind the chair, head dropped forward, lifeless and cold. His lower stomach is open, guts hanging off the floor as the other half is used to gag him in the mouth. His eyes are missing, John took the liberty to take them out for staring at him too much, and he couldn’t be any more relieved when he did.

“What do you know?” John had asked as soon as the man woke up from his head concussion.

“Y-You!” The man had yelled, John didn’t bother finding out his name. “You fucking creep –”

John’s hands twitched beside him. He remained silent.

The man went on a rant about how he’d seen John around lurking outside the apartment complex and using the abandoned room on the fifth floor and that’s all John needed to know.

He didn’t need another pair of eyes to tell him what’s right and wrong. Winston is already enough.

The next morning, John receives a text from none other than his bambi. A picture of numerous police cars outside her apartment and an ambulance, and another picture of a dead body covered in white blanket getting pulled out of the building.

Bambi : there was an accident that happened near me, john :(( 

Bambi : the police said somebody was killed and i’m scared

Bambi : they said he was gutted alive 

John is smiling to himself when he types his response.

John : What kind of a sick person would do something like that?

He is not a sick person. He’s just in love.

Taglist: aerangi starrgir1 heluvsvalefr danika1994 fraisejoon doggodorime ohmytate

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part seventeen - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: violence ; gore ; violence against women ; nsfw ; blood ; near death experiences ; angst

The washcloth wipes foamy soap off of his collar, shoulders, adam’s apple.

His hand cups her hip, fingers careful not to dig or pinch and make her giggle or squirm; resisting puckish urges. For now.

“Did you want this?”

“Hmmm?” He presses his cheek into the  purifying damp of her attention.

“When you started doing this, did you know what it entailed?”

“What age did you start school?”

She ignores her confusion, and answers him.

“I was very young when the Ruska Roma adopted me. Before that, I either had no concept or a very limited one about childhood normalcy.”

“And the Ruska Roma took advantage of that by making you a weapon?”

She provides this conclusion so easily, and, although he knows it’s true, he’s spent a lifetime trying to avoid directly admitting it.

He always seems pensive, but this expression is something harder than that.

“Sorry.” She looks away from his face.

“Do you think I’m angry with you?”

“I.. can never tell,” she admits.

“So, you assume?”

She shrugs abashedly, looking up at him through the soaking rainforest of her hair. He wants to pull her from that underbrush and make her stand in the open canopy where he can wholly see her.

“You just sound like you don’t actually want to answer these things, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s hard for me to talk about it. I’ve become so accustomed to my life that rationalizing it seems pointless. Better to just do.”

“Block it out?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t you just keep me a secret, then?” She asks, gathering more water from the sky and then wringing it onto his stomach.

“I wish it were that easy.”

“I’m glad it’s not.. I don’t really want to be one.”

He lays a soft kiss to the divot behind her ear. “I wish I was a banker or something boring like that,” he admits. “I never wanted that before, but now I do.”

“But, I think that your trauma makes you yourself. I think it did that for me, at least.”

“I disagree.” John pushes her heavy hair out of her face, then does the same with his own. “I think that you are who you are in spite of the trauma. It’s simply something you must endure, and either you’re strong enough to do that, or you’re not.”

“I don’t think I was ever strong,” she says.

“Forgive me,” he replies, tugging her hips closer, “but that’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Sorry, I-“

He stops her by saying her name. Quiet, calm, captivating. “You’ve already said hello to me today.”

She chuckles. His new little inside joke—their inside joke—is that her favorite way of greeting people is the word “sorry”. And he’s not wrong.

“I feel bad for myself too much,” she concludes.

“I think that once you endure enough hardship—and it seems that you have—you get a pass to feel bad for yourself every once in a while.”

“Even you?” She asks.

He sucks at his the inside of his cheek, eyes doubtful.

The uptick of her mouth turns smug. “Thought so.”

She’s too wonderfully cheeky for him to resist giving back. He frames his hand out over her chest, fingers resting at her collar. Her pulse quickens under the heel of his palm.

“But you should give yourself credit,” she continues, trying to forget how nervous he makes her. “You’re literally a hero.”

“Hero?” He wonders, the meat of his thumb pressing into hospitable flesh to find her collarbone and work at sore pressure points.

She nods. “You are. Saving those kids. You don’t know that? That you’re literally a comic book—textbook—hero?”

It shouldn’t be funny, because her face is oh so serious, but he’s smiling as if hearing some amazing joke. “Am I a hero? Do textbook heroes kill people?”

She ignores—tries her best to ignore—the scary mask that he fronts. “That doesn’t change anything, John. You’re a good man.”

He contemplates this.

“Cold blooded psychopaths don’t try to convince people they’re dangerous,” she tells him. “They want others to assume the best about them.”

“Do I try to make myself seem dangerous?” He wonders. Usually, he’s very self aware. Her telling him this means there’s a fissure in that confidence.

She continues to bring out the worst and best in him.

“You don’t really have to try to do that, I guess. But, it’s for the right reasons.”

“You think so?” He searches her face and finds doubt. “Because it looks like you’re questioning those words as soon as they come out of your pretty mouth.”

She sighs, frustrated with his accuracy. “Maybe I’m just not saying anything right. What I mean is, you’re—“ she tries to look into his mirthy brown eyes without cardiac arresting—“you’re… my hero.”

He seems to be easily and immensely amused by this conversation, while she’s fighting for her life over here.

“Oh, am I ?” He asks.

She evens the playing field and leans up while dragging him down to latch her mouth onto his own.

He aims to help this endeavor, wraps his hands around her thighs and lifts her into the air.

She detaches her lips, a wet sucking pop mixed with a sound of frustration and surprise.

Before she can say something about slippery bodies and weight balance and dying in the shower by falling, he has her voice again.

She can’t get a good grip around his hips with her slippery legs. Even though he has her steady, it’s daunting to not be able to hold herself up in any way besides a faltering grip around his neck.

He uses his own weight to press her back against the shower wall, and then hikes her flailing legs up where they’re supposed to be.

She gasps away from his mouth, and he kisses over her jaw, onto her hair, above her earlobe. “Can’t get away from me here, can you?” He asks, haughty voice making her toes curl and ache.

She opens her mouth, and he makes her yelp instead of talk, biting into the sensitive flesh above her jugular.

“Not a word about the stitches,” he warns.

Handsome Bastard. She holds her bottom lip in her mouth to keep from moaning while he licks and sucks and nips and scratches with his facial hair to get her flesh sore.

She’s so nice everywhere—not a piece of her unpleasant to touch or taste.

“John,” she whispers, watching his dark crown of hair as he trails his flattened tongue along her collar.

He earns giggles and muted sounds of pleasure when he kisses up her neck and sucks at her cheek. “Can you be inside me?” Her voice, small and careful, rings loud inside his ears and vibrates his mind with sweet chiming bells of salvation.

His fattening tip twitches just shy of the soft tuft of hair on her pussy.

Despite wanting to sink into her and never surface again, he asks: “you wet enough for that?”

“We’re in the shower,” she giggles.

“Water isn’t cum.”

“I know-oh.” He latches onto her pulsing artery and sucks plentiful blood to the surface of her skin. “Joking,” she hisses, trying not to squirm too much and kill them both.

He smiles, plops off, kisses the big welt left behind. “I know.” His grin is cheek and tongue.

She puffs at him.

“Lemme tease you a little bit,” he asks, beautiful eyes soft and convincing.

She shifts. “Yeah, okay.” It’s fine, giving in to whatever he wants, because who wouldn’t?

His wicked mouth leaves overlapping marks in her skin—her neck, collar, the middle of her chest, a bite mark on her sore jaw.

He licks a rogue tear from her cheek, letting her know that he can tell the difference between crying and stray droplets from the shower head, much to her dismay.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, kissing her eyelashes and her forehead and the sensitive, scrunching bridge of her nose.

“You’re beautiful.” Her voice is breath and want.

“No.” He shakes his head like that simply just will not do. “Tonight, you just say thank you.”

“I’m not allowed to compliment you?” She still has the gall to be obstinate, which means he has more work to do.

He shoulders through her palaver with a raised brow. “When I compliment you, I want a thank you, John.”

She bites her lip.

“Any protests, and I’ll make you start complimenting yourself.”

Sounds humiliating. She nods quickly in agreement. “Aren’t we wasting Marcus’s water, though?”

God, he wants to distract her until she can’t be concerned about anything other than whether she gets to orgasm. It’s probably not possible, to make her forget about the plight of those around her, but he loves a good challenge.

He chuckles and rests his head on her shoulder.

She kisses his wet hair and holds his heavy skull. “Take me to your bed?”

“As the lady wishes.”

She takes time to boldly trace the scars on his back while he towels off, loving the goosebumps cresting over his taut flesh.

“What do you do for fun?” She asks. “When you’re not working?”

“I’ve always wanted to restore books,” he answers. “And I’ve dabbled in that.”

“Restore books?”

“It involves leatherwork, stitching, Fude pens for calligraphy and art outlines. It would be easier to show you.”

She reaches up on her toes to kiss the howling wolf etched into his shoulder. “That would be great.”

“Something that might interest you a little more— I used to make puppets.”

“I’m interested in whatever you do, but I definitely need to hear more about this. Like, the freaky little guys—those puppets?”

He laughs. “More primitive. Think of sown dolls with button eyes. I just used them as puppets.”

“Why?”

He turns to face her, wipes stray droplets of water off her chest. “I like putting things together and then taking them apart. I like antiques.”

“Have you ever gone antique shopping?” She reaches to swipe the hair from his eyes behind his ears. It falls right back.

“I have.”

“So, if you owned a house, it would be full of antiques?” She imagines a cozy bungalow filled with glimmering gold, silver, and candy painted toys.

He thinks about it. “Something like that. And what would your house be full of?”

“I want pets,” she says, “dogs, cats, maybe a bird or a lizard?”

“I’ll take you to the Bronx Zoo. You’ll love it.”

The longing for normalcy in his expression breaks her apart.

“I would love that,” she agrees. “I’ll put on a puppet show for you.”

—-

She snuggles her damp hair into his soft pillows and puffed comforter, inhales his scent from the sheets and feels deliciously engulfed by the big John-coated sanctuary.

He follows in not long after, climbing on top of her to get her giggling and pliant, nipping at her ears, using the opportunity of her open mouth to push his tongue against her teeth.

Swallowing palms find her breasts, thumbs and fingers feathering the skin above and beneath.

Writhing under his touch, wrapping her arms around his neck, trying to think about breathing and majorly unsuccessful—gulping and wheezing for air when he breaks their kiss.

“You know how wonderful you are?” He asks. “How absolutely kind and selfless you are? How everyone you meet walks away feeling full and loved?”

He emphasizes his praise with quick, urgent kisses to her face.

“I-“

He interrupts with a click of his tongue to remind her, “Just say thank you.”

“Thank you, John.” Her insides give a useless little cramp at the sinful blaze in his eyes.

“Oh, and these—“ he pinches her nipples with the center of his palms, greedy with his handfuls. “These were made just for me.”

“Thank you, John.”

“Do you want me to lick your pussy?” This question makes her hump the air like a dog in heat with the polite, cooing, soprano tilt in his usually monotone voice, taunting her own pitch.

“A-are you sure?” She looks up at him through her pretty wet eyelashes, mouth sore and red, cheeks plump, adorable, sweet just like honey straight from the hive, and of course he’s sure. What a silly question. He’s never been so sure about anything.

“Sure?” He asks, nuzzling into her nose and biting the air above her lips. “I’m fucking starving.”

“You know I…haven’t shaved,” she warns.

He kisses the worry off her lips, trying not to chuckle about something so absolutely trivial. “It’s okay, baby.”

Mouth leaving fire and want on its path down her chin, John licks through the sore marks left over from his mean teeth, kisses each shoulder, noses down her chest.

She wriggles her fingers through his wet hair, hooks onto his scalp—something to do with her hands while he becomes distracted and enamored with her tits.

The way he licks over a peak and then suckles on is enough to get her keening—he absolutely doesn’t have to look up at her through his lashes and smile while he does it.

She’s clamped onto her bottom lip to keep strangled noises at bay, grinding into the solid meat of him.

Thick fingers tuck between her thighs. He pushes her open, helps move her legs so they’re spread wide by his torso.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, using his other hand to fluff the pillow under her head.

She nods yes, so he spreads her pussy open wide and catches her shy clit with pressured fingers.

It feels strange—she’s so used to her own touch that his larger hand is too much at first.

But this beautiful man, attentive and patient, asks her to tell him what she likes and what feels good.

And maybe she’s dooming herself by instructing him on where to press and rub, but pretty soon she doesn’t care anyway; he’s a fast learner, and it takes only a little coaching to get him on the right path to her ruining.

He tries to memorize her all at once, watches the way she climbs higher and loses grip, gives her a little boost up and a soft kiss to each peaked nipple to help her hold on to the daunting cliffside.

Even through the thick callous of his hands, he feels the pulse of arousal under her skin. The seeping, Dewey wet all the way up to his knuckles that he needs to taste sooner rather than later.

“Does that feel good, honey?” He’s pampering her, babying her with tiny kisses and hums and sweet words.

“Y-yeah.” Her head tips back, the silky bridge of her throat jumping, while the rest of her soft body curls around him, wound and tight and overwhelmed. She’s never felt so small compared to another person—never thought she would want to feel this small. Not just his size, but the way he makes her completely pliant and vulnerable; it enthralls her, and she needs more.

He licks her calf, lifts her leg to kiss her ankle, speeds and slows.

“You want my mouth here instead?” He asks, swirling slippery fingers outside of her clit, broad and then concentrated, giving her no real rhythm.

She nods eagerly.

“Yeah?” He’s breathy and high toned like he’s the one being teetered on the edge of a devastating release.

His voice would have tipped her, but he’s pulling away and replacing fingers with cool air, then the purposeless pressure of his broad, solid body.

“John.”

He kisses and licks at her tummy, making her giggle and try to get him away from ticklish skin.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, nuzzling his cheek and temple into her softness and making her laugh and jerk.

“You—no one has ever gone down on me before.” She looks away from him, embarrassed, feeling foolish and inexperienced.

Instead of laughing or rolling his eyes, John groans. What a privilege to be blessed with, being the first person between her thighs. What an honor bestowed on him by the universe, ruining her for any other tongue that dare try and replace him.

“Baby,” he says, “it’s okay, I’ve got you. Let me take care of it, alright? I’ll be nice, I promise.”

Once again, who could tell Adonis no? Not her. Definitely not.

He regrets not taking up painting as he looks at her. Spread before him, slack and flushed and beautiful and wanting—he needs this image immortalized on canvas.

“Hand me a pillow?” He kisses each thigh, then the sheltering plump below her belly, causing her hips to twitch up to meet his waiting mouth.

She grabs one, drops it, picks it back up, then drops it again, this time close enough for him to grab on his own.

“Lift your hips up.” He’s doing it himself before she has time to help, though.

When he moved into Marcus’s guest room, the door had an intricate locking system and a deadbolt backup in case that failed.

John greased his hands and looked over the setup with Marcus’s permission—he wasn’t happy about it, walked away grumbling about how he knew enough to check the locks in his flat—

and now, while John’s sharp ears attune to that tiny click of the spindle and the quick, muted scrape of the shaved strike plate getting scratched by hard plastic—he’s grateful he did. Because Marcus had done a magnificent job of installing quiet locks, but that type wouldn’t alert you to someone breaking and entering like they were doing right now.

Before she knows what’s happening, they’re on the floor. He rolls sideways, making sure to land on his back, wedges them tight between the wall and the bed, then flips her over so that his body shelters her own.

A bullet bites the ident where they previously occupied, digs through the bed and rains fluffed cotton down around them like they’re on the losing end of a pillow fight.

She has a moment to watch him tighten, the whole length of him like a tensed spring. He grabs a sheet and wraps it around his knuckles. Another bullet smacks into the wall and adds sharp plaster into the mix of stuffing and fabric on the floor around her, and John clears the bed in one leap.

Blood stains the sheet, transferring from the forearm of their attacker. She’s covered in it, dark and fresh. Marcus. He outweighs and out-heights her, but she’s small and quick; able to move the gun out of reach of the blanket before he can trap it inside. This shot hits the ceiling.

John grabs her open thigh, wraps his makeshift weapon around her, and takes them both to the ground. Normally, he would have the clarity available to realize she folds and falls too easily.

She’s young, and her arm snaps in half from the force of his patella, and she screams in agony and he thinks about the severity of sadism it must have taken for someone to send an inexperienced, unassuming, woman here to do their own fucking dirty work.

The sharp hilt of the gun slams into his shoulder blade, then his cheek, then he takes it, flips it around, and shoots her in the head.

—

She doesn’t have to worry for long, because he’s back, pressing his hand against her neck and breathing hard. His hand is warm, damp, sticky, and she wonders if it’s blood.

“Are you okay?” He asks her.

“I’m fine,” she nods, scraping her face against sharp nuggets from the wall.

“Stay here, right here.”

He shuts and locks her into the room.

She can’t hear much beyond the door. Waiting is flooding her with anticipation. All this adrenaline and nowhere to put it; her body is visibly shaking. When the door opens back up, she braces, but immediately John is telling her that it’s him and that she’s okay.

“You have to get up.” He helps her to her feet, smooths her down, grimaces at the scrapes on her cheeks. “We have to go.”

“Go? Go where?” He’s already handing her dirty clothes from earlier, pulling on his own slacks and shirt and shoving weapons into their respectful places.

“Later,” he says, not looking at her, face stone again. She pulls on her pants and shirt and coat and shoes, shoves her underwear and socks into her pocket.

Marcus is in the dining room, the blood inside his femoral artery dripping onto shiny wooden floorboards.

John tries to take her to the car, but she insist on going to Marcus and wrapping him into a tourniquet, first.

She uses John’s belt to stop the bleeding while he stands guard over them, gun aimed just below his chin and pointed at the door.

Marcus, his agonized pants making her feel terrible about tightening and tightening the leather on his thigh, goes azure and slack. Beads of icy sweat trickle down his neck, and he looks like he’s dead, so she reaches up and feels his pulse. Faint, dull, thready. “John.”

He’s right there, kneeling beside her, giving the belt one final twist and then fastening it off.

“I’m going to carry him,” John says, voice too level for what they’re dealing with. “I need you to stay behind me and get into the car as quickly as you can. Then, you lay flat on the backseat with your head under your hands.”

John’s grateful that there are no more hostile parties in or around the building, although it just makes him want to lodge a bullet into the person stupid or malevolent enough to send a lone assassin here to kill him and Marcus.

The mistake is already made, but he should’ve kept her alive for questioning.

———-

“Have either of you ever heard of tact?” Winston grumbles. He flips the lid of the coffee pot and pours himself a generous helping of the wafting water.

Marcus and John look at each other, but don’t answer.

Her mouth, which she thought was permanently molded into a frown, perks up when Winston pulls a teabag from his robe pocket and dips it in the mug.

He catches her smile, and matches it. “Would you like some, my dear? Calms the nerves.”

“Um, how much are teabags?” She asks, reaching for her wallet.

Winston holds up a halting palm. “Please, every service I have here is free of charge for you. What do you like? Earl grey? Black? Green? We have plenty.”

She nods her head in thanks. “Green would be fine.”

When her cup arrives on the silver, delicate dining tray, she thanks the waiter, and offers John some.

He shakes his head no, looking almost bored - but maybe just exhausted - chin in his palm and eyes droopy.

She wants to ask if he’s alright, but Winston talks enough for the four of them combined.

“So, you just tell her everything - a poor, sorry recount at that - and expect her to take it. What? Well?” Winston points this inquiry at John, who looks annoyed.

“I’m sorry we’re not hotel owners,” Marcus cuts in. “And he - “ he points at John - “told me to do it.”

“She needs to know,” John adds.

“And have you told her exactly why that is?” Winston asks, sipping his steaming tea. He looks from one man to the other, and sighs. “Thought not.”

Marcus rolls his eyes, dropping his head into his bicep with an exaggerated groan. “If you would have just hit her in the head,” he tells John, voice filtered through the cotton of his Continental provided robe, “we could find out who the fuck she’s working for-“

“She’s dead,” John says flatly.

Marcus laughs. “Captain fuckin’ obvious.”

“And you just keep talking,” Winston tells Marcus. “You never stop.”

She wants to defend John, only because he hasn’t even really said anything this entire time, but there’s something about Marcus that promises he has a rebuttal for every protest and quip. Plus, he’s being very nice to her and she doesn’t want to ruin it.

She sips her tea and shuts up.

They sit in awkward, uncomfortable silence for a long time. Marcus is so still she actually thinks he’s fallen asleep, and John’s eyes closing while he settles more of his weight into her side means he’s not far behind.

She’s just glad he’s taking time to unwind, even if that means he’s involuntarily sleeping while doing it.

Winston settles back into the cushions, and directs his attention on her. “What did they tell you?”

She recounts the tale.

Winston purses his lips, thinking. “Okay,” he nods. “Have you ever gotten into trouble because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“Think so, yeah.”

“I’ve been manager at this establishment for over 30 years. We have an unspoken pact, and it’s that if a civilian wanders in, we politely direct them off hotel grounds and ask them not to visit again without membership - membership here meaning involved in the trade of gold currency.”

“Like the coins that John gave to the doctor?” she asks.

Winston smiles. “Exactly. Now, the only individuals that have access to that type of payment are ones involved in our world - under or around the high table.”

“The high table is the organization that you all serve?”

“That’s the keyword, here.” Winston’s eyes shimmer with the excitement. “Some sit at the table, some don’t know the table exists, some avoid and ignore the table, and some - most - live under it. However, everyone serves the table.

Marcus most likely led you to believe that stepping foot on my hotel grounds was the reason that you gained the table’s attention.”

“They didn’t exactly say I had the table’s attention.”

“If you’re here, you have the table’s attention.” Winston gestures around. “The high table is me, the high table is John. The high table is the blood running through the veins of everything and everyone you see here. And of course, if you so much as touch my steps, someone takes notice. But, often.” Winston drinks. “Often, merely wandering in is not the sealing of a fate.”

“Then what is?” She asks.

“Your association to Johnathan.” Winston nods at the resting furnace who she for sure thought was asleep. John’s eyes slit open and he makes that sound like a guttural growl again. Like the kind of noise you’d hear walking into a hungry tiger’s den.

Winston continues bravely, unaffected by the warning, and acting as if John is an ornery cat rather than a huge beast with claws and teeth.

“You encountered him on the sidewalk,” Winston explains, “and in that moment, his association with you solidified throughout a network-wide radar of dangerous people. He knew it was too late, and it was. Really, he should have just brought you right in to meet me then. But, as I’m sure you’re well aware, John tends to think with his heart rather than his brain.

The rotten brat you met in our private suite was Viggo’s son.”

Her eyes dilate and burn. “John’s boss?”

“Employer.” Winston fixes the ties on his red robe. “And now, correct if I’m wrong, Johnathan, but the Tarasovs have offered to protect her in exchange for your service?”

John’s voice sounds like he’s fucking pissed. “Yeah.”

“So that’s why Viggo wants me to host a symposium.” Winston raises his eyebrow and drinks the rest of his tea.

She looks to her own cup, sitting on the chaise lounge untouched and cold, and feels guilty, so she gulps some of it down despite the bitter taste of herbs and leaves steeped too long.

“No.” John’s word is firm.

“Oh, Johnathan, it seems that you think you can have your cake and eat it, too. As if this hotel - your life - wasn’t built on compromise. So, let me provide her the options, because you’re too stubborn to take one and live with it.”

She feels him burn beside her, the sweltering heat of his anger, the uncontrolled rage that he whips back into place so very well.

“My options?” She asks.

“Unfortunately, yes, my dear. And I’m so sorry. Your options. First one.” He pauses, sits up straight, and leans toward her. “You never speak to or look at this man again. You change your hair, your face, your name, move to a different country and develop different habits and find a new career. Assisted by me, of course.”

She cringes away from him, while John tightens his grip on her shirt reflexively.

“Second option: You live under the table with the rest of us and deal with the hand you’re dealt. Don’t mistake this option for simple, because I can assure you it’s more drastic than the first.”

“Third option.” She startles at the timbre voice so close to and vibrating her skin. “Anyone touches her, I kill them.”

Winston sighs at John like he’s dealing with an angry teenager. It makes her wonder if the man is actually John’s father, although he did tell her he was an orphan, so that wouldn’t make sense. He looks back at her, eyes greyed with a warm, tired wisdom that solidifies her trust in him. “I think you’ll need to sleep on it.”

Marcus speaks, alerting them to his wide awake status throughout this conversation. “Winston, does the hotel offer room service? The kind that will keep me warm? My date stabbed me.”

[secret-shanghai-scribblings]

Pumpkin

Spoilers for the epilogue and In True Delights (the bonus chapter of Foul Heart Huntsman) - Rosalind and Orion meet the newest member of the family. And bring a pumpkin pie.

AO3 link here if you prefer to read on there!

-----

“Katherina?” he asked, (...) “I met her as a newborn.” - In True Delights - Chloe Gong

When I read that quote, I knew what I had to do (and yes, I definitely did count these words towards my nano word count even though it is NEITHER of the camp nano projects I should be doing, don’t @ me)

——-

As soon as Rosalind and Orion had received the correspondence that the baby had arrived, they were already packing their bags for Zhouzhang. 

Mere days later, they stood at the door of the Mai residence, Rosalind doing the agreed upon knock with her free hand, the other holding a dish containing a pumpkin pie that she hoped tasted better than it looked - the crust going from overly thick on one side to thin and slightly burned on the other. (It was her fiancé’s fault for lifting her to the kitchen counter in one effortless swoop and… distracting her).

The door swung open almost instantly. In all the years she had known Roma Montagov, she had never seen him look so utterly exhausted. But in the same vein, she’d never seen his eyes so happy.

“Come in,” he spoke softly, stepping aside to give the guests room to enter. 

The door had barely closed behind them before Orion wrapped his arms around Roma, tapping his shoulder goodnaturedly. 

“Congratulations, Bàba.” Orion said, his voice full of mirth, “How does it feel?”

Rosalind let the two men have their moment as she made her way into the home, first stopping in the kitchen to leave her gift on the counter before trying to search for her cousin. 

She needn’t look far, Juliette was in the main sitting area, looking down at the bundle of blankets she currently held in her arms. The only sign that it wasn’t merely blankets was the black hair poking out at the top, contrasting against the cream coloured crocheted squares.

“You can come closer, she doesn’t bite.” Juliette said to Rosalind without lifting her gaze away from her daughter, her voice soft, “Well, she does try. But it’s only gums and tongue. Similar to being licked by an old dog.”

Rosalind chuckled at the comparison, walking over slowly so as to not perturb the baby. She hadn’t been around many, so she wasn’t sure of the etiquette, but she knew her cousin wouldn’t hesitate to tell her immediately if she was doing something wrong. She sat to Juliette’s left on the sofa, giving her knee a soft squeeze as a greeting. She leaned forward until she could see properly into the burrowing of blankets. 

Katherina was beautiful. Rosalind had heard before that babies were ugly little creatures when they first came into the world, writhing and wrinkled and wailing. It had only been a few days, but it seemed that the infant had seemingly already gotten through that stage, now only looking angelic with her eyes closed, the long black eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly as she breathed in and out.

Realistically, Rosalind had known about this baby for upwards of seven months. She’d visited as often as she feasibly could throughout the pregnancy as she tried to assist in multiple roles - whether it was bringing an offering of different foods to see which pleased Juliette at the time, taking her cousin on outings to buy new clothes as her middle grew and grew, or fussing over Juliette every time she stood when she was nearing full-term (much to her chagrin).

But now there was a tiny, little human. Gently held in her Mother’s arms. Sleeping soundly without a care in the world. As if she knew that she was going to grow up in a household that cared for her so dearly. That she would be protected by not only her parents, but a wider family that would be prepared to lay down their lives if it ever came to it. That she would go through life surrounded by joviality and care and so much love. 

“Biǎojiě, are you alright?”

Rosalind’s gaze tore from Katherina to look at Juliette. It was only when her cousin’s face was blurry that she noticed she had tears in her eyes. And down her cheeks.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, something between a laugh and a sob escaping her throat as she hurried to wipe her cheeks, feeling oddly foolish.

Without looking behind her, she felt a presence sit next to her, as if crying had simply summoned her partner from thin air. Orion’s arm wrapped around her waist, his thumb moving up and down in a calming motion, soft but just firmly enough to be felt through the fabric of her dress.

He spoke as soon as Roma settled down next to his partner also, giving her a kiss on the cheek then leaning down and doing the same to his daughter, in what seemed to have already become second nature to him.

“We brought you a pumpkin pie,” Orion said, taking the attention away from Rosalind as she composed herself, her eyes still watching the little one as she moved slightly, seemingly fighting the tight swaddle.

Juliette seemed amused at the statement. Not because she didn’t understand the reference. Ever since the announcement ‘art’ and Orion’s interpretation of it, everyone around the baby had taken to saying ‘pumpkin’, mostly because it sounded better than saying ‘it’ when they didn’t know the sex of the child. Phrases like 'how is the pumpkin behaving?’ and ‘the pumpkin seems to have grown’ had become commonplace over the past months.

She replied, “You don’t think that has a slight… cannibalistic air about it?” The phrase made Roma scoff at the absurdity as he leaned towards her, as if there was a magnetic pull between the new family unit that couldn’t be broken.

Orion leaned in to whisper into Rosalind’s ear, but deliberately spoke loud enough to still be heard by everyone, “I told you it was strange.”

She swatted at his thigh with a chuckle, no trace of tears present any longer.

The four of them sat in silence, simply admiring the baby for the little miracle that she was. Rosalind couldn’t help casting her mind back a few years, back to when it would’ve been inconceivable that Juliette and Roma could even be in the same room together without there being an imminent threat of life. And now…

“You… made a life.” Rosalind whispered, watching as Katherina began to stir, a tiny clenched fist escaping from the top of her swaddle, which Rosalind couldn’t help but touch with her own hand, smoothing a fingertip along the knuckles as softly as she could.

“With some assistance, yes.” Juliette chuckled, looking over to her husband and revelling in the way she could still make him blush after all these years, even as he pretended not to be affected at all, playfully pinching his daughter’s feet as they kicked beneath the blanket.

“It’s just…” Rosalind paused, her mind scrambling for a word with a meaning grand enough to encompass it all, “miraculous.”

She hummed in agreement for a moment, “It would’ve been more miraculous if she would’ve simply arrived in my arms, instead of all that fuss.” 

The words prompted Roma to brush a lock of his wife’s hair behind her ear, kissing the temple that he uncovered. She leaned in without thinking, her eyes fluttering closed as she did so. 

There was something unspoken between the couple in that simple interaction. Something that encompassed many emotions, but most of all, relief. Rosalind almost felt as if she was intruding by watching, so instead she glanced down at the baby once more.

As Katherina opened her eyes, Rosalind’s began to tear up again. -----

Rosalind still had a tumultuous relationship with sleep after being cured. Falling asleep was always easy enough, especially when she had someone to either talk to if they both still felt too alert, or to hold her and gently pepper kisses on her exposed skin if they were too tired for words.

She never thought she could be someone who would comfortably sleep next to someone else, expecting to worry about needing to move and feeling trapped when she was unable to do so. But now, as she woke up most days with either an arm draped across her waist or a heavy head on her chest holding her captive, she didn’t mind at all. Especially because she knew Orion was a heavy enough sleeper these days that she could simply push him off (gently) and the only sign he’d give that he had noticed was a deep sigh or a soft snore.

She usually woke up with the sun regardless of whether the sunlight had permeated through the curtains, loving the quiet she could have to herself before beginning the day proper. And judging from the little mewls she heard from the main bedroom as she stirred her tea in the kitchen, someone else was an early riser too.

Rosalind padded over to the bedroom, pushing the door open as gently as she could. The parents were still sound asleep - Juliette’s head resting on Roma’s chest, her hair obscuring most of her face - but Katherina was wide awake, her dark eyes looking up at the ceiling from her bassinet in the corner of the room, her legs kicking beneath a thick blanket.

She moved towards the baby, pressing her index finger against her own lips as if she would understand the request to stay quiet. Somehow, it seemed that she did, Katherina’s small mouth widening silently at the sight of someone peering over at her.

Rosalind moved her hands down to her small waist, lifting her up slowly as if she was a primed grenade ready to explode. Luckily, she showed no signs of being displeased as Rosalind manoeuvred her awkwardly, definitely not accustomed to holding babies. After a few odd movements, the baby was resting against her nightdress, her cheek against the soft silk. She stepped outside, closing the door behind her softly, letting the two parents get their well deserved rest.

She sat on the sofa in the same spot Juliette had been holding the baby the previous night, letting Katherina settle into her lap. 

“Do you usually wake up early too?” Rosalind whispered, even though she knew that not only could Katherina not understand her, but she hadn’t exactly been in this world long enough to have a solidified sleep schedule.

Still, the baby had no idea that the question was mundane, replying by cooing quietly, her eyes locked with Rosalind’s. 

“You’re very well behaved for not screaming the house down as soon as you awoke,” she continued, dragging the back of her index finger against the baby’s cheek, revelling in the softness.

Katherina seemed to startle at the touch at first - Rosalind briefly worrying if her hands might’ve been too cold - but then she leaned back towards her with her mouth as open as it seemed to go, lips wrapping against the fingertip.

Rosalind chuckled warmly as she felt the tongue against the pad of her finger, wiggling it playfully. “You truly are like a dog.”

“It’s a good thing I’m here to defend Katherina against such insults.” 

Rosalind didn’t need to turn around to see who had made the remark, mostly because he was already coming to sit next to her. 

Orion kissed his fiancée on the cheek, then bent down to kiss Katherina’s cheek too. The motion instantly reminded her of Roma doing the same the night before, but she didn’t dare mention it.

He spoke again, “How long has this girl’s club been in session?”

“Only a few minutes,” Rosalind replied, knowing he was asking after her sleep, since he knew she’d often wake up before she was fully rested, whether that be naturally or caused by nightmares, “We haven’t even started talking about boys yet.”

“Oh, boys are awful.” He commiserated instantly, shaking his head in admonishment. “You don’t ever want to be involved with them. And I think your father will agree with me on that front.”

Rosalind hummed, as if pondering the future situation, “I assume your mother will threaten any of your future partners with knives, no matter what their gender may be.”

Orion let out a soft laugh, which prompted Katherina to make a noise too, as if she wanted to be included in the conversation, “You have plenty of time to decide on that though, little one. And you’ll be loved no matter what you pick.”

Rosalind felt her chest swell at the sentiment, even as it was said in such an offhand manner. The two simply watched the baby as she moved, beginning to smack her lips together, looking somewhat like a fish out of water. Rosalind wondered whether this had some sort of meaning. Was she trying to talk? Surely it was much too early for that, but perhaps babies started attempting speech early? She had half a mind to ask her cousin, as if she would be the expert in infant speech development milestones simply because she had birthed one.

However, there was no need to because Katherina soon made it clear what she was asking for, turning her head towards Rosalind’s chest, her mouth still opening and closing.

“Oh darling,” she soothed, “I’m afraid mine are rather useless.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Orion said quietly, a teasing lilt in his words.

If Rosalind wasn’t holding the baby, she would’ve smacked him, her cheeks beginning to blossom with a furious blush, “Hush and go fetch Juliette.”

He grinned, nothing making him happier than succeeding in flustering her, “Your wish is my command, beloved.” 

Orion stood up instantly, heading for the bedroom door and knocking gently. Rosalind would’ve thought it was too quiet to stir them, but she heard two voices immediately responding. Whether the light sleep was a result of parenthood or growing up in gang houses, she wasn’t sure.

Rosalind turned her focus to Katherina as she began to fuss, the hunger setting in. “Your Shūshu is rather ridiculous, isn’t he?” 

Rationally, she knew he wasn’t her uncle, but it was easier to say than ‘mother’s cousin’s partner’, and she doubted Katherina would mind. The girl halted in her movements, her screwed up face softening as she heard Rosalind’s voice once more. The sound of quiet shuffling footsteps approached them.

“Thank you for watching her,” Juliette spoke, her voice still raspy from sleep as she reached for her daughter, picking her up effortlessly with one hand and beginning to unbutton the mens nightshirt she wore with the other.

Rosalind stood, taking the cue to leave, “It was no bother, she’s a sweetheart.”

Juliette scoffed, “Less so when she is screaming loud enough to be heard by all the neighbours, but yes, I suppose she’s alright.”

She smiled, letting Juliette feed Katherina before she began the aforementioned screaming. Rosalind walked towards the door that led outside, seeing that Orion was already there, sat on a wooden bench with his head tilted up towards the sky. She joined him without words, sitting close enough that their outstretched hands were touching, reminiscent of when they were in a prison cell after being arrested. She rested her pinkie finger beside his, exactly as she had done that night, still feeling the rush of adrenaline and swell in her chest that she had experienced the first time.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Rosalind couldn’t help but snicker at the question, glancing at her partner who still had his eyes closed and head facing upwards. “I was thinking about you in prison.”

He frowned, cracking one eye open to regard her properly, “I haven’t annoyed you that much yet, have I? The day has barely begun.”

She responded by bumping her shoulder with his, but instead of moving away afterwards, she simply let herself rest against his arm. As if there were a gravitational force between them, Orion instantly wrapped his arm around her slender frame, resting his head atop hers. They sat there quietly for a while, listening as the world around them began to awake: birds chirping above, the water lapping in the stream, the occasional faint rumble of a car engine passing.

Orion was the first to break the silence, his voice low and quiet.

“Do you want one?”

She didn’t need to ask for clarification. Her lips pursed as she considered the question, pressing her cheek into his shoulder, “I never thought I did. Even growing up as a child. And I thought seeing Juliette’s symptoms would be enough to discourage me, with all the sickness and the emotions and the… waddling.”

Rosalind felt his chuckle as much as she heard it, “You’d be a very adorable penguin.”

“Ah, just what every woman longs to hear.” She mused, rolling her eyes even if he couldn’t see it.

The conversation dropped there for a moment, the two still simply enjoying being in companionable quiet. This time, it was Rosalind who spoke first.

“Still, not for a while yet.” She continued, as if there was never a pause.

Orion hummed in agreement, “You’d be an amazing mother.”

Instantly, she began to imagine it. Orion being at her beck and call throughout her whole pregnancy (even more than he already was). The two of them decorating a room together, creating the perfect place for their new arrival. Him being at her side during the birth - and Celia too, no doubt - whispering soft encouragements in her ear. 

As for the two of them actually being parents, she could imagine that she would be the strict one and Orion would be more lenient, but maybe they would each be a mix of the two. Working as one unit, as they were accustomed to. It was so easy to envision with him.

Days out in the park, with their own snacks in a hamper. Running as they chased each other in the fields, Orion pretending to collapse to the ground when he was caught. 

Night time routines with Rosalind telling bedtime stories and Orion adding his own quips between the lines to try and make them laugh.

Trying to chastise Orion and their child when she found them awake much too late into the night, giggling together under blankets, but then joining them without needing any convincing, even if she knew they’d all be tired when morning came.

“This is where you reply saying I would be a good father too, in case you weren’t aware.”

Rosalind laughed, lifting her head up to look at her partner properly, placing a hand on each side of his face, “You would be. If a little…” she scrunched her nose as she thought of the correct word to use, “untraditional.”

He grinned as if it was the greatest compliment he’d ever received, “‘Untraditional’ is what we do. Who else would get married before having their first kiss? Or live together before going on a date? Or-”

“Yes, yes, I understand your point.” She used one hand to tap his face, as if she was trying to find an off switch. 

Orion wound his hands around her waist, then - ever so softly - moved one to place on Rosalind’s lower stomach. She wondered if he could feel how her insides flipped at the touch and all its implications. 

She was vaguely aware of someone coming to stand in the doorway, but didn’t tear her gaze away.

“Do you have some news to share, cousin dearest?” Juliette smirked, holding Katherina on her shoulder and patting her back. 

Rosalind definitely didn’t. But perhaps, one day, she would.

[scarlet--wiccan]

Some of the critiques of Wanda’s current direction do seem a little shortsighted. Like she’s in a good place being treated respectfully doing interesting enough things… it could definitely be better, ofc, it would be nice to have some Roma voices with a more direct influence on her. everyone is entitled to their own opinion good or bad but when people are like “Mackay and Orlando are doing horrible jobs they should be replaced”… I feel like they’re overlocking the fact that Wanda isn’t the kind of character with a guaranteed solo or even major presence in marvel? She’s not like, iron man, where the second one of his books ends he’ll get a new one announced, or Wolverine with a dozen books at a time

She’s pretty close as a major avenger and I guess now four books centrally focused on her in a short time span (if we count House). But she could pretty easily go back to comic limbo, I’ll take what I can get as long as it’s not racist/misogynistic/etc

If you count Orlando's entire run as one ongoing series, then this is the longest Wanda has ever held down a solo title, and it's the first time I've felt like they're actually treating her like she could feasibly stay in that position long-term. But it's absolutely not a guarantee. Wanda hasn't been in true limbo for a long time-- she was more active in the 2010s than people seem to realize-- but it would be very easy for her to turn back into an ensemble member, and these days, she and Pietro need solo titles like this to get any serious character development to be actually centered in a storyline. So, I'm in no rush for the book to end and I don't think it's done anything to deserve the hate that some people give it.

And realistically, if we want see authentic writers and artists working with these characters in the future, we probably shouldn't be sabotaging one of, it not the only person currently working at Marvel who's proven that he actually gives a shit. I do not enjoy being mercenary about comics, and in our current climate, I'm really not comfortable, like, urging people to spend their money on Marvel, but at the end of the day, this is a business. Sale numbers matter more than ever.

[reneeee19]

Minerva (John Wick x reader) Chapter 4

Summary: Y/N, a talented ballerina whose life takes a drastic turn when her parents die and her uncle Winston gains custody of her. In New York, Y/N discovers that her uncle owns The Continental, a hotel for assassins, and is sent to the Ruska Roma for training. Despite her initial reluctance, Y/N excels in the art of killing and becomes one of the most feared assassins in the underground world under the alias "Minerva." Winston pairs Minerva with John Wick, another skilled assassin whom she had grown up with in the Ruska Roma and fallen in love with. Together, they become an unstoppable force, taking on dangerous assignments and making a name for themselves in the underground world.However, John eventually leaves his life and Y/N behind, leaving her heartbroken and alone. Years later, he returns with a final request that will put both of their lives on the line.

Jardani and Y/n finally did it. They graduated from the Ruska Roma. Years of tears, sweat, blood, and pain have finally paid off.

Upon graduation Y/N and Jardani were tattooed on their backs reading “Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat” with a cross, to prove their loyalty and history with the Ruska Roma.

Y/N never thought she’d pack her things and leave Ruska roma. She couldn’t believe she was actually leaving it behind. There was no telling if the things ahead were gonna be worse or better but she didn’t care. She could burn in hell for all she cared, just so she didn’t have to go back to this god-forsaken place.

The director had informed them that Y/N’s uncle, Winston, would come and pick them up and give them a home until they manage to stand on their own feet (financially). Y/n didn’t hate Winston nor did she love him. Winston had shown up a couple of times to “check in on his niece”. The first time he showed up he wanted to see if y/n was worth the training and indeed she was. He was impressed by how far she’d come and was sure she’d be one of the most feared assassins one day. So every now and then he’d show up to check in and see her progress. She wanted to hate him but there were far too many other people to hate in this world and Winston was actually one of the better people in her life. He was quite funny and clever.

Jardani and y/n stood outside ruska roma with their packed bags in the cold new york winter and waited for Winston alongside the director who didn’t seem to be affected by the cold.

And then a black car slowly pulled up and out stepped Winston. He greeted his niece with an emotionless kiss on the cheek and then he noticed Jardani. He’d never actually met the boy. He wouldn’t even know he existed if he wasn’t the director's golden boy.

“What’s he doing here?” he asked the director.

“You’ll take him too,” the director said coldly.

“Nuh-uh, I’m doing no such thing. I’m not adopting your little Oliver Twist. I already have Y/n,” Winston argued. Neither Jardani nor Y/n understood that reference and therefore couldn’t get offended.

“His name is Jardani Jovonovich and you will take him! I raised your little сука блять for 15 years and I trained her like my own and you know very well her potential!” The director gritted her teeth and was all up in Winston’s face.

“He’s the best there is and together they could even bring down the high table if they needed,” The director persuaded.

Winston stepped back and looked back at the young man. And with a sigh, he said: “Jardani Jo–bla bla-vich? You’ll need an English name if you’re coming with me,”

“John will do, sir,” Jardani spoke up respectfully in a dark husky voice.

“John what?” Winston asked.

“John…Wick,” Jardani, now John, said.

“Alright,” Winston shook John's hand and looked him in the eyes, “You’ll be working for me alongside Y/N,”

John only nodded to Winston. Neither Y/n nor John had much of a choice anyways.

“I’ll be taking you both to the continental then,” Winston added and motioned towards the car. John and Y/n got in and looked at each other, unsure of what to expect.

[northoftheroad]

I really like your blog and read a lot of things you had to say about Wolfman, so can I pick your brain about Devin Grayson?

A lot of people seem to say she wasn't good for the Nightwing run. Just wanna know your opinions about it

I'm gonna read her run anyways. It's just that I like your takes on things. Especially since you make connections with older comics.

Honestly, I think there is a lot to enjoy in Devin Grayson's stories. In Titans, she wrote Dick as a competent workaholic and the Titans as a group of very close friends. JLA vs Titans has a worried bat-dad, which is always adorable. Dick and Tim have fun together, and Bruce is emotionally complicated in Batman: Gotham Knights. Batman plus Arsenal is great (Roy chews out Batman!). Her story in the Robin 80th anniversary comic has a fun twist. Etc.

Batman: Gotham Knights # 8 & 9

Then there's things I don't like.

The rape. IMO, you shouldn't write rape in comics unless you're prepared to deal thoroughly with the consequences in the story. Admittedly, the sexual assault in Nightwing vol 2 # 93 is probably dealt with more seriously than the Mirage situation by Marv Wolfman, but I still wanted something more. Blockbuster's murder and the rape had an enormous impact on Dick's mental health; we should have got a resolution where Dick could admit out loud (if even only to himself) what happened, where he could get what help he needed and decide to move on. (Preferably, I would also have liked other characters to realise what had happened and not only be assholes…) (That Devin Grayson, in some interview, wanted to call it not consensual instead of rape doesn't help (full disclosure: I don't know if she's backed down on that).)

The retconning of Dick as part Roma. Now, it's for people who are Roma to have opinions about representation; I've seen (allegedly, because who knows what is correct on social media) both Roma people who like it and those who don't. From where I'm standing, it wasn't well done. The only comic arc where a Roma parent is essential to the story is quite problematic; you get the impression that the writer did it… to exoticise Dick and have Bruce talk like a racist…? 

Gotham Knights # 20.

Some later stories have acknowledged this retcon, but only a handful of issues from decades worth of comics. Most writers ignore it, and Dick has never been portrayed as being fluent in a Romani dialect or adhering to any customs (other than looking for Romani food and talking about some legend.) He didn't even speak Romani when Devin Grayson wrote him.

How she wrote the relationship between Dick and Barbara. They were supposed to be old and dear friends, apart from a couple. Barbara blamed Dick for being sexually harassed (kissed), and when he came to her for comfort, reeling from Haly's circus being burned down, she asked him to leave after few hours night. That's not a relationship I, as a reader, would root for.

To be fair, she intended to write a story about how Dick went from being happy, to making his life living hell, and presumably end in a new happy place for him. Dick and Barbara are written in a way that would end in their splitting up. (Writers will create conflict because the storytelling needs it, and sometimes we as readers can think it was out of character, or unnecessary.)

I expect I would like her writing better if she could have finished her story. Maybe she would have got together the Dick/Barbara relationship and delivered a satisfactory resolution to the rape. But DC editorial interrupted her plans with Infinite Crisis, where they almost decided to kill Nightwing, and she had to make a rushed conclusion that never went anywhere. And when the Nightwing comic continued, it was in another town and one of the worst Nightwing stories ever.

As I said, I like part of her characterisation of Dick – how he can be ultra serious just as well as joking around, has a tendency to overwork himself, blame himself, he wants to give everyone a chance. But… I know she's said in an interview that she thinks of Dick as a contact junkie* who processes with his body before his head. I'm not down with that. Ok, as an acrobat, you could argue that body memory and responding to the touch of his fellow performers is essential for survival. And Dick might be freer with hugs than Bruce Wayne and Alfred, but that's a very low bar to set. Marv Wolfman wrote a Dick Grayson who was very private and could hardly show his love for Kory physically in public. (To be fair, when Dick dated a few girls in college in the comics from the 70s, he didn't mind holding hands and kissing in public. But, as much as I enjoy citing examples from older comics, the 80s is the start of a deeper characterisation for Dick Grayson.) I read Dick as a guy who's very much in his head – if not for any other reason, Batman must have drilled into him to think and question everything. There are panels where he seeks out solitude or watches nature programmes without talk to relax. And I also read him as uncomfortable with strangers touching or ogling him.

Anyway, happy reading. Of course you should read and form your own opinions. I guess you'll find things to love and things to loathe - I find that's true about most comic book writers and runs, myself 😎

*The way I think about him, he likes everyone, he's sort of a contact junkie — just this incredibly physical (and attractive) person who lives wholly in the corporeal plane and responds with — processes things in — his body before his head or heart. I imagine that he can be hypnotised by a touch the way other people can be stopped dead in their tracks by the sight of money or the promise of true love.

[imperiuswrecked]

you mentioned in one of your asks about the issues in previous scarlet witch solo. I get we got 100th parental reveal in that(and that to with problematic black story), but what were the other issues?

If you want a better take on this then I think this post might help you out because I don't want to speak over Roma fans when it comes to how the series handles Romani heritage.

I personally feel that Robinson went too far into this "magical g*psy witch" writing and reinforced that by giving Wanda a whole new mother and made it so that the Scarlet Witch title was something Natalya also had when the title of Scarlet Witch was given to Wanda by Magneto. Also I feel that his take on Pietro and Wanda's relationship actively harmed both characters.

Under the cut because it's a bit long~

There's a thing that writers do that drive me absolutely insane, they take a female character and in order to show her as this "strong independent woman" they have the closest male character (or sometimes just any male character) say something ooc; something to oppress them/gross them out/try to overpower their choice and then have the female character slap them back either physically or verbally. The use this moment as a defining moment for the female character, "see? she totally stood up for herself and isn't some meek woman! girl power! girl power!" Except Wanda was never a meek character, and Pietro isn't some controlling sociopath of a brother who can't stand the thought of Wanda being this independent woman who doesn't listen to her brother. I just feel the series is racist in different ways including making Pietro out to be this MoC who controls the women in his family. So issue #9 is one of the worst written things I've ever seen for the Maximoff Twins relationship and I hate it with all my heart. Robinson didn't care that Pietro and Wanda made choices together, he didn't care that Pietro listens to Wanda, he doesn't care about what really happened with House of M, how Pietro wasn't using Wanda for his own gain. I understand that as a fan of both characters Pietro is often used to uplift Wanda's character, but this was just terrible.

Also I personally hate the 2015 solo because a lot of mcu wendy fans latched onto it and used it to fuel their racism against 616 Wanda and her fans, wanting only to focus on her being a "white witch". The solo starts off with Wanda going around trying to heal magic, she travels to and interacts with other forms of magic/magical beings such as Hecate from Greece or to Ireland etc. As she goes on her travels she deals with issues of magic going bad and her own issues and she worries if she's the one causing the magic to go bad because of her past, and I'm just really sick of Wanda constantly atoning for House of M and everything. So it's not just the 100th parent reveal but the fact that a white male writer is obviously writing about stuff he has no experience or place to write about and it perpetuates more stereotypes, and unlike in Quicksilver: No Surrender, Saladin using Pietro's history as a way to explain/draw readers into caring for the character and give us his backstory about his past/heritage, Robinson's take feels so hollow.

Like, it's a personal issue and I understand that the Maximoff Twins were being retconned because of the MCU, but the way the writer just dismisses Marya and Django like "oh they were just the people who raised me" like it meant nothing always annoyed me, compared to how Saladin speaks of their parents/their past. Like it's obvious one writer understood the characters and the other just didn't care to expand on them, just swept them aside for an oc.

To conclude I will say the only good thing about the Scarlet Witch solo was how beautiful the art was, and that was the only upside to the series imo.

[xjoonchildx]

girl the Nicki Minaj perfume 🥰🥰🥰💕💕 but girl is giving $$$$$$$! Have your tried the Valentino born in Roma ?

listen - i love perfume 🥰

not EXPENSIVE perfume (even though i certainly have a few) but if it costs me $15 at T.J. Maxx and it smells good? it's coming home with me lmaoooooo

i still have to cop the new pink friday 2 at some point. in terms of celebrity fragrances though, i don't think anyone can touch ariana. her fragrances are all hits with few exceptions and honestly R.E.M. is one of my all-times faves 😭💕😭

i have a decant of donna born in roma (the travel sprays at the top) and it's beautiful, though i find the intense is just a little better because the bourbon vanilla is amped up in it!

[kiss-this]

Ok let's start from the beginning.

Spotify surely knows how to party. The location is palazzo Brancaccio and it's so beautiful it looks like it came out from a fairy tale... to think that people used to live in places like that. Anyway I digress.

The room with the stage wasn't that big, this means I had like 6 people between me and the stage and boy, oh boy, to see the band so close was the most unforgettable experience ever. Also, first Vic only, then Dami, Thomas and Vic again came down and danced with us for a bit. Obviously the crowd started to push this mean I had Vic literally spread all over me for the most glorious couple of seconds (she's so tiny♥️) I don't plan to recover from this 🫣

As for Ethan, have you any idea how does it feel to have him like 5 meters away, dressed like that with his muscles all glistening with sweat? I mean, he should be illegal...

About the music now, they didn't waste any time and started with a boost of energy. Damiano said what we already know, he doesn't know what to say between songs 😅 so it all went fast.

Thomas gave us a few amazing solos and Damiano again called him the Italian Jimmy Page. It's a joke of course but it's true that Tom keeps on getting better and better, I'm endlessly impressed.

Among the new songs Bla Bla Bla is the one I like less for now but I need to listen to it more times. Timezone may very well become one of my favorite ever and Baby Said is good enough as well but again, I need to listen to it again.

A few minutes after the concert ended Dami came out and took some pictures with fans, I've got to say that the buzzcut makes his eyes look even bigger. It always takes me by surprise how he can give Bambi and Little Bitch vibes all at once.

Btw he spoke mostly in english because there where International guests, including, apparently Baz Luhrman. So yes, I managed to be in the same room with one of my favorite directors and not notice him. Go me 🥲

Machinegun Kelly was there too, I came across him a couple of times. There were also other italian famous people, like Sabrina Impacciatore (i love her!), director Paolo Sorrentino, a few Roma players, Fedez who is really a nice guy and Manuel Agnelli who is hot as he's intimidating. Giorgia and her best friend where there too, really close to me while Må played, she's very cute!

Last but not least, shout out to the two drag queens who where there as hostess, their make-up slayed!

[maxgirl29]

I stay off my phone for one day to study and literally miss out on the world it seems.

- Ona has apparently done her medical for Barca (was she not in Greece like 2 seconds ago)

- The whole messi situation is enough to give you whiplash. Idk if the chap is coming or going at this point.

- Reading have started operating on a part time basis due to regulation.

- Some WOB have canceled Ingrid, Caro and Rolfö, especially Rolfö because she celebrated scoring that winning goal. (those fans that have canceled these players aren’t true fans because WOB fans are better than petty situations like that).

- Arsenal have managed to secure another person with both working knees. (Let’s be honest, we ALL skipped to the end of Steph’s renewal video. That stupid caption “Steph has a message❤️” yeah, made my heart drop.)

- People have started shipping LW2?

- Leah finds the new tracksuit comfy.

- Caitlin and Katie are together? (Not our business but so out of the blue)

- Pina and Patri are thing??????

- Skinner is now slowly showing to be the English Jorge V*lda. Jackie deserved better.

- Speaking of V*lda, the whole Las 15 situation is so messy. Wow. I don’t think the federation could’ve handled the issue worse if they tried. What a shit show.

- 4-6 of the Las 15 will be going to World Cup?

- V*lda is an asshole (we already knew that).

- Corinne Diacre got her Karma and Amandine Henry got a spot on the roster.

- Kenza Dali also got a call up.

- France dropped the most insane Call-up video.

- Vicky Losada has left Roma after 4 MONTHS? What?????

- Barcelona are after Ada AND Selma?????

- And apparently everyone is in Ibiza? Wtf is in Ibiza? Am I missing something?

- Arsenal men’s fans are homophobic as hell.

And that’s only 24 hours.

I just know that when I delete the app tonight to focus on studying, I’ll be fighting for dear life to catch up. Football is not for the weak fr.

[the-fiction-witch]

Best Day Ever

Media The Last Legion

Character Romulus Augustus (Age Up)

Couple Romulus X Reader

Rating Sweet AF

Concept Best Day

I felt utterly at peace my body warm, basking in the morning sun, the sounds of water flowing and birds tweeting in the garden just beyond the patio, my arms around the soft body that I held so dear, my hand resting against her skin feeling the slow beats of her heart as well as those of our infant child at times even feeling little kicks which only made my smile widen. But this happiness and serenity was not to last. 

I heard the wooden door basically be kicked open by the guards, advisors, handmaid and who knows who else had decided to turn up.

"Good morning, your grace!" my advisor gleamed 

I exhaled a good few seconds before speaking "Markus? I am emporer of Rome?"

"Of course your grace"

"Blood of a Cesar"

"Yes you're Grace"

"Master of all Roma and her empire"

"Yes you're Grace"

"Then do you think it is possible to get some privacy!" I complained

"Yes I do understand you're grace however there are many meetings that require your attention"

"Why can't you lot just wait, all I ask is five minutes in the morning to snuggle in bed with my wife" 

"Emporer-" 

"Out! All of you" I told them

"But your grace'

"Out!" I demanded and they all slowly left well almost all of them

"Your grace we really -"

"Ummm? What's going on?" Y/n yawns sitting up and stroking her bump

"Oh great now you woke the empress" 

"I'll give you a minute," he says ushering himself out the door 

"I'm confused?"

"I have work to do" I sighed

"Ohh, I see"

"It's okay I'm staying with you at least a few more minutes" I smiled fixing her sweet hair and giving her as many kisses as she'd allow me too 

"You should get to work Romulus"

"Five minutes," I told her "Hi, hi little one. You have a nice time in mummy's tummy?"

"Kicking well"

"That's good, stretch those little legs so tour all ready to come to meet us soon" I smiled stroking and kissing her bump "You rest up, both of you," I told her helping her to lay back down and wrapping her up nice and cosy before I got out bed and quickly dressed 

"We will have a nice day Romulus"

"I'm sure it'll be thrilling" I sighed "I love you" I smiled kissing her head "and I love you" I smiled kissing her bump.

I sighed and got on with the long list of tasks for the day, I had seventeen thousand things on the list for the day all of them boring and pointless, I had to wonder around to each dealing with the stupid advisor's long list of problems, the baths need draining, the legions are having a dispute, the farms want to grow more oil crop, the cooks want coin for a new stove I had to go around to the office with a bunch of signatures I had to do having to sign the forms for the officers land rewards, having to sign the forms for the villa renovations, Having to visit the temples, I had to give a speech, I had to meet with the architect for the new villa renovations, having to meet with the cooks over the next few months meals, I had to sit through a whole bunch of long meetings all of which didn’t have much of a point. It was so boring and mind-numbing, nothing even mildly interesting at all watching as the sun moved across the sky until it set under the hill leaving the sky a wash of purple and orange. I had wasted the whole day dealing with the boring nonsense it was mostly a horrible day the worse day in months. Still, at least I can go back up to the suite and snuggle with y/n to make me feel better. 

“I’m sorry Your Grace but you can’t go in” The maid told me stopping me from going in the room

“What?” 

“You can’t go in”

“What why not?”

“I’ve been ordered not to tell you”

“You’ve been ordered to not let me in my suite and not tell me why?” 

“Yes your grace”

“I’m the emperor of all Rome, You can’t just stop me from going in my suite.”

“I’m sorry your Grace” She says 

“Well, I want to go in what am I supposed to do!” 

“I’m sorry your grace but-”

“You’re not stopping me let me in” I demanded pushing through her and opening the door to the suite but I stopped short as I saw the most beautiful sight in the world y/ sat up in our bed surrounded by fresh blankets, pillows and sheets, her hair a mess, sweat across her skin, her nightie fallen off her shoulder, the bed surrounded my handmaidens, but in her arms cradled softly in sweet blankets sat a little newborn barely able to open their eyes. “Wh-what happened?” I asked welling up with tears as I came over to sit beside her the room emptied to leave us alone

“Little one decided it was time” she smiled 

“Why didn’t you send for me?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise” 

“You’re so sweet” I smiled giving her a kiss “Are you okay?”

“Perfect,” she smiled “Would you like to hold her?”

“Her?”

“Ummm, here Romulus hold your daughter” she smiled gently handing her over, I smiled so widely taking the sweet little girl in my arms 

“She’s Beautiful” I smiled trying my best not to cry giving the little baby’s head a little kiss “What are we naming her?” 

“I thought Bellemina, after your mother” 

“That’s perfect, Belli for short”

“Exactly” she smiled “How was your day?”

“The best day ever” I smiled 

[sometimesrosy]

The 100 Rewatch 2023 Liveblog 1.08

Day Trip

Oh boy! The memories. This is the beginning of Bellarke for me.

We are going to post like men here. No editing. Forgive my typos. I touch type as i go and i may be fast but i'm not that accurate. I will remember to do a read more this time though. Because this is long.

We open with beefcake Lincoln strung up for torture. Honestly. That's rude. It's not sexy just because he's hot.

Miller told the dead kids parents the news that their kids were murdered by grounders. He wants "justice." and Bellamy says they're not killing him. Miller is an ass and puts mud on lLincoln and Lincoln headbutts him. LOL.

Talking to the Ark they want Clarke to find an emergency shelter for supplies. Diana Sydney is like nah. We're about to come down, the baby kids should stay put. Now Jaha is trying to get Clarke back with her mom but she blames him for betraying her dad, too.

Oh Dax is going to talk to "his parents" and it's Shumway to proposition him into murder. Just like he did Bellamy. But this time he wants B dead. Dax already beat a man to death. He's one of the murderers they talked about.

Now B and O are arguing about Lincoln. B is calling him an animal. Knock that off, kid.

Clarke wants to take Bellamy for the supply run at the depot. And he's suspicious. "I don't feel like being around anyone I actually like." Which he gets because hello Octavia.

Jasper and MOnty with grim humor. Don't worry about the grounder revenge. Byt the time they get here we'll be dead of hypothermia.

Ugh Clarke and Finn being all "I'll take care of you." ANd Raven is right there. "She's a big girl she can take care of herself." Then in comes Bellamy. ooh Finn is jealous. Bellamy is taking all the rations and Clarke is suspicious. "A lot can happen in a day." Foreshadowing. Sneaky Dax follows them out of the camp.

Miller goes to talk to Roma's parents and O sneaks up to Lincoln. She gives him water. Neat little canteen made out of what? Parachute? more beefcake as she cleans up his washboard abs and he is like smelling her or whatever. Y'all I don't like kidnapping/torture as a start to a romance. But this is better than most because he originally kidnapped her to keep her safe and she's trying to stop the torture.

He tells her his name because he wants her to remember him after he dies. "This only ends one way." Because he IS the enemy.

Clarke and Bellamy in the woods. I remember this. Bellarke in the wild. Bellamy is really feeling guilt and fear over the Jaha attempted murder.

Raven and Octabia in Camp. O is a mess. WOW they are catty to each other. O says "It must suck to come down here and find out your boyfriend is into someone else." OUCH. True but OUCH. Why is she so mean when she grew up with only two supportive people? Yes she should be messed up but should she be a meangirl?

Raven wants to do Finn and Finn wants to talk. "Something happened." She knows and she doesn't want to talk about it ever. She asks if he loves her "Always." I am puking. Stop kissing him. He's awful. Ew. She has the worst taste in men i swear. She NEVER got a good romantic partner. (Princess Mechanic)

Clarke finds a door Bellamy smacks it with his axe. Down they go into the bowels. Mummified bodies. The place is disgusting. No supplies. Boo. Ooh some orange blankets. Bellamy is mad there's no canteen or medkit or decent fricking tent.

A barrel full of oil. Bellamy temper boy kicks it over and VIOLA OMG GUNS. HUGE BELLAMY SMILE

Monty is tripping. Fermented nuts?Or hallucinogenic. Now Jasper is tripping but it's not as nice as Monty's trip. He sees grounders everywhere. Scary. He runs to O for help. She figures out that he's on something. HE tells her he loves her. She figures it's the nuts. She gives him an anti-grounder stick so the grounders won't be able to see him. "Makes sense."

We could have used more of that O in the bunker in season 5.

She gives Miller the hallucinogenic nuts. Lincoln knows.

:Ready to be a bad ass Clarke?" She doesn't want the guns but she knows they need them. SO he offers her shooting lessons.

Oooh. He reaches around her and touches her shoulder, his voice gets smoky and steps back from her. I forgot about the sexiness of that. Watch and learn. He tries to shoot and his bullets are duds.

"Still watching." smirky flirting. She shoots and BOOM. She likes it. B likes it htat she likes it. She's being responsible. "You left miller in charge of the grounders. You must trust him." He wants her to keep him close and she's like. OMG you're gonna run. He thinks the Ark are gonna kill him when they come down. O hates him, so he's leaving.

Tells her to keep practicing. He needs some air. THat was a SHORT scene. To base our Bellarke fantasies on for seven years.

Now he's tripping Jaha. Nightmare land coming up. "I did what I had to do." But Jaha calls him out for all his sins. Now he sees the 320 culling victims. Bellamy can't defend himself against that. All his guilt. He really feels it. Oooh. Sooky. All the dead people calling him murder and coming through the wilderness at him.

Now Clarke is tripping. She's back her jail cell in the Ark. See her dad.

Everyone in the deinguent camp is tripping and one kid is stripping so O takes his clothes.

Raven and Finn are naked in bed. M0nty pops in."I can't change the tide if the moon won't cooperate. It's basic physics."

Clarke realizes her dad vision is not real. The dad vision wants her to forgive her mom. Poor baby clarke is so young here. Everyone's counting on her and it's so hard. She's feeling guilt about torturing Lincoln. Dad says she did the best she could. This is the beginning of Clarke learning about forgiveness and why she could forgive Bellamy and Lxa and all those people.

NOW dad vision calls her a crazy bitch and turns into Dax.

O frees Lincoln. Gives him delinquent clothes.He thinks this will put her in danger. That's because he's a grounder and they are barbarians and would kill someone for doing what she's doing. Jobi nuts go bad and cause vision. So he can sneak out.

He kisses O.

Yo. You should really find a girl your own age man. She's what? 16? 17 at most.

Most beautiful broom in a broom closet of brooms. Raven taking care of the kids. Even Finn is taking care of the kids until he sees Lincoln escaping. He's like get on outta here. Which is, I have to give Finn his due, the best thing he does in a while. He forgives Lincolnd for stabbing him.

Bellamy bad tripping on his 'murder victims' He wants them to kill him. Jaha beats him up. "I can't fight any more." "don't you know? LIfe is a fight." "What am I supposed to do?""Live breathe suffer. if you want the peace of death you're going to have to earn it. You think you dserve to be free of your pain? You think you deserve that gift?"

But actually, the Jaha beating him up is Dax. "You shoulda stayed down there clarke I tried not to kill you. But Shumaway said no witnesses."

Walk away now and I won't kill you. You're choice. His gun misfires as he aims at clarke and Bellamy charges him. Fight. Dax has him on the ground. Clarke charges Dax and he slams her in the gut with the butt. B picks up a bullet and slams it into Dax's jugular. Not coincidentally the place where Clarke stabbed Atom to mercy kill him. A nice little callback.

Dax is gone, B and C are up against the tree. "Are you okay?" Clarke asks?

No I'm not. If my mother she knew what I'd done, who I am? She raised me to be better to be good and all I do is hurt people. I'm a monster."

"Hey you saved my life today. And you may be a total ass half the time, but... I need you."

The look on his face as he looks at her.

"We all need you. None of us would have survived if it weren't for you.

He looks away.

She tells him to come back with him. You have to face it. He says "Like you faced your mom."

You're right. I don't want to face my mom. I don't want to face any of it." She is obsessed with keeping everyone alie.

Why is the music so romantic right now?

Can we figure it out later?

Whenever you're ready.

Bullshit you didn't write this as romantic.

O is pretending that she got high too. She did not. Good cover. Miller says the grounder is gone. Jasper panics.

Bellamy is back. "LEt the grounders come" He's tired of being afraid. Looks at Clarke and they both drop the guns. Finn looks unhappy.

Team Bellarke. Leaders. Friends. Soulmates.

The story has just changed.

O is looking out into the woods. B comes up and gives her an oragne blanket. She takes it. "I don't expec tyou to forgive me but you'll have to find a way to live with me because I'm not going anywhere.

Clarke calls him in to speak to Jaha. B knows O helped the grounder escape. She says it wasnt her and thanks him for the blanket.

Jaha.

CLarke. When you sent us down here, you sent us to die, but miraculaously most of us are still alive and in large part that is because of bellamy." She wants him pardoned like the rest of them.

Bellamy doesn't depend on his better nature. He says "If you wnat to know who wants you dead." Jaha pardons him and asks for who gave him the gun.

Cut to Shumway being arrested. Kane is angry. Shumway thinks he's fighting for what he believes but won't say what that is.

Clarke checks Finn's wound and Finn tries to guilt her about the guns. And he tries to say that Bellamy is the real danger. Clarke TRUSTS him. Finn is horrified. That's because he knows B is his rival. "You and Bellamy are leading us down a dangerous road. I wish you'd talked to me about it first." WHEN was finn the leader? Fucking asswipe. She is like "I wish we talked about a lot of things."

Diana Sydney comes to Shumway and Diana has him killed.

I honestly do sympathize with Diana Sydney's position but she's such a horrible character (dare I say horrible actress I hate her D:) and her plans are so horrible that she, who should have been the good guy, becomes the bad guy. I'm usually for the proletariat, but Diana was vicious and stupid and mean and her plans were bad and unethical and selfish.

[sin-ophelia]

Italian Cinema

Two Women 1960

(Sophia Loren won an Academy Award for her role as a single mother trying to protect her daughter from the horrors of war in WWII)

Rome, Open City 1945

(neorealist war drama film directed by Roberto Rossellini written by Fellini starring Anna Magnani)

Down with Misery 1945

(Anna Magnani stars as a Roman housewife post-WWII pressuring her husband to join the black Mamarket to pull them out of poverty

Before Him All Rome Trembled  1945

(Anna Magnani and her partner are a pair of opera singers, who moonlight working for the Italian resistance at the time of the German occupation of Rome. Stylistically, the film is a hybrid between filmed performances of opera, and a neorealistic resistance melodrama)

Angelina 1947

Anna Magnani picture, in the public domain

L'Amore 1948

(anthology film directed by Roberto Rossellini starring Anna Magnani and Federico Fellini. It consists of two parts, The Human Voice based on Jean Cocteau's 1929 play of the same title, and The Miracle, based on Ramón del Valle-Inclán's 1904 novel Flor de santidad. The second part was banned in the United States until it was cleared in 1952 by the Supreme Court's decision upholding the right to freedom of speech.)

The Street Has Many Dreams 1948

(Comedy Starring Anna Magnani)

Volcano 1950

(Anna Magnani's revenge film against Roberto Rossellini who was filming Stromboli with Ingrid Bergman on a nearby island at the time. The film plot involves a former prostitute, Maddalena Natoli (played by Magnani), who was exiled to the island of her birth by the police. There, she suffers ostracism by the islanders, and she tries to defend the virtue of her younger sister from the advances of a deep-sea diver. )

Stromboli 1950

(Drama directed by Roberto Rossellini starring Ingrid Bergman considered a classic example of Italian neorealism. Immigrant Lithuanian woman gets isolated in an abusive relationship with a man on a secluded island where locals shun her)

The Golden Coach 1952

(Starring Anna Magnani tells the story of a commedia dell'arte troupe in 18th-century Peru)

The Rose Tattoo  1955 

(Starring Anna Magnani based off a Tennessee Williams play)

The Awakening 1956

(Comedy drama starring Anna Magnoni as a nun in a Convent in Naples)

Nella città l'inferno 1959

(When the wide-eyed Lina (Giulietta Masina) lands in a women's prison, she meets a world-weary prostitute named Egle (Anna Magnani) who looks out for her. After Egle teaches Lina what she knows and begins to harden the girl, Lina commits another crime on the outside and winds up back in jail, a shell of her former self. Egle, meanwhile, who had taken a genuine liking to Lina, has tried to better herself and is shocked to see what has become of her former protégé)

The Passionate Thief 1960

(Comedy Two friends (Toto and Magnani) live by their wits working as comedians and cabaret at Cinecittà, before being invited to friends' parties or masked balls during New Year's Eve in Rome. The two, however, even though they make people laugh all the time in public, live an inner conflict, namely that the two have always to be aware to give a smile to someone, but they can never be rich and happy because they are street artists and with a precarious wage.)

Mamma Roma 1962

(Anna Magnani play a single mother retired prostitute trying to build a better life for her teenage son)

Made in Italy 1965

(Comedy anthology with Anna Magnani)

Two Nights with Cleopatra 1954

(Comedy Starring Sophia Loren playing two roles in Prince and Pauper Cleopatra tale)

Aida 1953

(Sophia Loren stars as Aida adapted by the opera by Giuseppe Verdi set in ancient Egypt)

A Slice of Life 1954

(Anthology comedy with Sophia Loren in one of the episodes)

A Day in Court 1954

(Anthology courtroom drama comedy, Sophia Loren is in one of the episodes)

Poverty and Nobility 1954

(Adapted from 19th century play of the same name, with Sophia Loren)

The Gold of Naples 1954

(Anthology drama one episode features Sophia Loren)

The Sign of Venus 1955

(Comedy revolves around an attractive woman named Agnese (Sophia Loren) who has many suitors. She lives with her cousin Cesira, who has the opposite problem with men- a poet in need of money and a man who deals in stolen cars)

Bianco, rosso e... (The Sin) 1972

(Comedy Starring Sophia Loren as a sexy nun?)

[meowcatonini]

Chapter 5: Roots to Responsibility

Early adulthood is the most exciting as well as very overwhelming phase of life. It is the time to pursue dreams, build on new habits, form deep relationships, and learn how to balance everything that comes along. Each day brings something new to learn and something fresh to face. For most of them, it would be their first experience of true independence. Let's meet Roma. At 22, she is stepping into this new stage of life with curiosity and determination, ready to see where life will take her. She is figuring out what making your own choices means and building a path that feels right for herself. Roma’s days are a mix of career goals, friendships, family duties, and personal dreams. Her story is filled with the highs and lows of early adulthood—the thrill, the pressure, and the quiet moments of reflection. As she moves through this journey, Roma shows us what it’s like to take on adulthood, one step at a time. For Roma, entering adulthood has been eye-opening. Physically, she’s noticed some big changes. Her energy levels aren’t the same, and stress often causes her to lose weight. To keep healthy, she focuses on good sleep, eating well, and staying active with daily walks and runs to work. Yet, even early on, she’s finding that keeping up with these changes isn’t always easy. Mentally, Roma feels her thinking has matured. Her decision-making has improved, though she still learns from mistakes. While she once handled problems quickly, now she takes her time to think things over. For Roma, her aims and career life now matter, and time management will be really important in making a balance between work and personal growth. And then, quite surprisingly, she suffers a small lapse of memory each now and then, something that she did not foresee at all. Her social and emotional life too has changed. Work takes up more of her time, so she has fewer chances to spend with family and friends. For now, she’s focused on becoming financially stable and advancing her career. She hopes to work abroad someday to better support her family. Roma is more private with her feelings, especially when things are hard, and her way to cope with stress is simple but effective: sleep, good food, and staying focused on her goals. Balancing work, relationships, and self-care hasn’t been easy, especially with setbacks like job rejections. Roma finds balance through prayer, self-love, and trusting herself to keep going. Right now, she’d rate her career satisfaction at a 4 out of 10, as financial stability is still a goal she’s working toward. But she’s proud of her achievements and the lessons she’s learned. Being the eldest in her family brings its own set of responsibilities, and meeting society’s expectations adds extra pressure. But Roma handles it all by giving her best and relying on everything she’s learned so far. Roma’s journey through early adulthood has been full of surprises, lessons, and moments of growth. It isn’t perfect, but each step is helping her build a stronger foundation for the future.