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elivanah-writes · 3 years

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Wired

pairing: Juice Ortiz x reader

sum: coming back home after a long time away brings it’s challenges, specially if you’re the daughter of Gemma and Clay. what if she sees someone she tought she’d never see again?

warnings: fluff, implied smut and a small bit of angst

A/n: this was actually a requested by someon on my main blog @evanstanwrites but sadly I can’t remember who did and I can’t find the original message with the request.

It felt amazing to y/n to finally pass the sign that stated “Welcome to charming”, for her it was more of a welcome home. y/n had previously studied and worked a few years in New York, at first she was happy to get away from home, away from the always busy place full of bikers. Then she met a certain brown eyed Puerto Rican from Queens, they fell in love, hard and fast. Time spent together was heavenly and she couldn’t get enough of him, he even promised her to marry her one day. God, they were young and stupid. They were together for most of her college time but then one day a few weeks before she graduated she got a panicked phone call from her boyfriend, he’d done something very stupid and now people were after him. He told her he’d ran but couldn’t take her with him. So they broke up, still loving each other. She could have gone home after she graduated, it would have been easy to just get in that car with her mom but she didn’t want to face everyone and their questions. She had told her mom she was seeing someone, that they’d get married someday and her mom in time told everyone back home. It was already hard enough how she had to deal with the phone call from her father when he had heard, man was he pissed that his little girl found a guy he didn’t approve of beforehand. Her father finally made peace with it as long as the guy treated her right. How the hell was she gonna face him after her heart was broken, he’d look for him and kill him himself.

So instead of going home, she found herself a job that paid pretty well and tried to build herself a new life, after some time her father did found out that she and her guy broke up. Her new life only lasted for a few years tho. She kept worrying, thinking back to her brown eyed man, she hadn’t heard from him anymore and she felt so lonely in New York. So when she got the chance to be transferred to a place of choice she took that chance with both hands and went home. She didn’t tell anyone she was going back home so nobody was expecting her and no welcome back party would be waiting for her, She hated surprise parties but she loved to surprise people.

It wasn’t long before she reached the long driveway of the Teller-Morrow garage, as she drove up the driveway and parked her car. A few guys were hanging around on the benches in front of the clubhouse, only a few of their faces seemed familiar to her others were completely new to her. One of the familiar faces was Jax Teller, her half brother. Jax sat on the bench smoking a cigarette talking to who she remembered as Chibs and Tig and a few new faces. None of the guys had seemed to notice her yet, maybe they just thought she was just another customer of the garage and didn’t paid mind to her. But even if they did saw her she wasn’t so sure they’d even recognize her, over the last few years she changed so much. She didn’t look like that little cute girl that left this place to go to college, now she was a fully grown up woman and not so little anymore. It was only when she got out of her car and shut her door that the group of men looked up to her and just like she thought it seemed like they didn’t know who she was. Jax did hold a look of recognition in his eyes but also seemed to be unsure.

She just winked at the group of men with a small smirk and turned her back to them and started to walk in the direction of the small office of Teller-Morrow just as she heard one of the guys whistle at her. Not even a second later she could hear the sound of a punch being thrown, a curse, and then the voice of Jax calling out to her.

“Y/N!”

So he finally did recognize her, his baby sister. With a wide smile, she turned back around seeing Jax throwing away his cigarette and running at her.

“Hey Jax,”

And then next thing she knew she was wrapped up in Jax’s arms as he lifted her into the air just like he’d always do with her back in the day when they were younger.

“What are you doing here, I thought you’d made a new life back in New York?” Jax asked when he placed her back on her feet.

“Nice to know I’m welcome back here,” she joked

“This is your home y/n/n, you’re always welcome here. We just weren’t expecting you. You’re here on holiday?” he chuckled

It seemed that their reunion had drawn quite the attention, as she saw people spill out of the clubhouse.

“That’s the point of a surprise brother, and no I’m not here on a holiday”

She just finished talking when she heard the voice of her mother calling for her and not a minute later she appeared next to Jax together with my father at her side.

“Babygirl, my babygirl is home.”

And jet again I was wrapped up in a pair of arms.

“Hey mama, hey daddy,” I said once she released me from her hold and I could give my father a hug too.

“Hi princess, you’re home for good?” was the first thing that left Clay Morrow’s lips as he held his daughter close.

“Yes daddy, I’m here to stay”

It didn’t take long before they had lead her inside the clubhouse and started up an impromptu welcome home party. For most of the night, she sat with Jax, a few of the other guys, and her father. Her mother went home early so she could make her room ready for when she’d come home.

It was a quiet night up until the door of the clubhouse opened and 3 club members walked in, two of them she remembered as bobby Munson and Opie Winston but what shocked her was the third person that walked in behind the two: Juan Carlos Ortiz, her Puerto Rican ex boyfriend.

She was so shocked to see him there that she forgot all about who sat with her and stood up and walked towards him calling out his name.

“Juice? What are you doing here?”

it seemed like Juice was just as shocked as her when he heard his name being called and saw her stand there in the middle of the clubhouse.

“Y/N? I could ask you the same thing” he said surprised not noticing all the eyes on them.

But y/n did so she grabbed him by the arm and led him back out the door and went to sit on one of the benches.

“So, you ran off to Charming?” y/n started as she looked at the man standing before her wearing a kutte with the sons patch.

“Yeah, I drove around a lot. Jax found me, that’s how I got here,” he explained before taking a seat next to her.

“Did you knew that Clay’s my father?”

“Not at first, but then I noticed pictures of you on the walls, they talked about you. But then I heard Clay and Jax talking about you, about how there had been a guy you were seeing and that he’d broken your heart,” He said taking a breath before leaning his elbows onto his knees.

“I knew I was that guy, I broke your heart. I can never forgive myself for that but I also knew it was better if they didn’t know”

“Well, I bet they figured that part out just now,” y/n sighed before continuing

“You may have broken my heart in leaving Juice, but I knew it was for the best. You don’t need forgiveness because there’s nothing to forgive, I knew you still loved me when you left. It’s not like you wanted it to happen like that” She finished and she softly bumped her shoulder into his.

“The kutte suits you,”

“Thanks, I like it here. Got a new family now” he smiled

He’s seeing someone? She wasn’t prepared to hear him say that, she still loved him, she didn’t know if she could see him with another woman. Unconsciously she scooted away a bit from him which of course he noticed right away why.

“I meant the club you know, I’m not seeing someone. I haven’t since I came here, since you,” he pointed out.

“Why?”

“Because, because I still love you y/n,”

And before she knew it they were making out and dry humping with her in his lap like two horny teenagers.

“This can’t be serious, tell me this isn’t what it looks like!” Clay yells filled the almost empty house. Only he and Gemma were home while y/n was at work the following day. It wasn’t a secret that the two of them had been fighting for days so it wasn’t a big surprise that they were at it again.

“Calm down Clay, they’re two grown up people,”

“I won’t calm down Gemma! Juice has his filthy hands all over my little girl, and to top it all off he broke her heart before he came here! I should have never let him patch in!” Clay went on in fury.

“Let them be, they love each other”

“That’s not love! Nobody touches my little girl!”

“She’s not your little girl!” suddenly Gemma screamed back at her

“what? What the fuck did you say?”

“She’s not your daughter Clay, I lied, she’s John’s daughter. I was already pregnant when he died”

“I can’t fucking believe it! I rased her, I am her father. Did you tell her that bullshit?”

“Of course not”

“I can’t fucking believe you woman”

Clay was more than furious, y/n was his daughter, he was sure of it. And then seeing the hands of Juice all over his daughter only added to his anger. He was so angry that he had threatened Juice to cut off his dick if he even saw one hair out of line on his daughter or a tear on her face. But then sometime later he had what he thought the best idea, he was going to bribe Juice into getting the information he needed from y/n, he needed to know if Gemma had told y/n he wasn’t her real father. So he made Juice a deal if Juice asked if she knew anything about john Teller and if he had another kid with Gemma, then he’d make peace with the fact that he was dating his daughter. Of course, Juice jumped at the chance of getting Clay’s approval so he agreed. Clay seemed happy with his answer and hugged Juice goodbye. But what nobody had seen was that during the hug Clay had dropped a small device into his pocket.

“Okay, where were we baby?” Juice smirked as he closed the door of his dorm room behind him.

“What did my dad want?” y/n asked as she got up from his bed in nothing but her underwear.

“Just some club business, nothing to worry about. now let’s get back to where we left off,” Juice said while removing his kutte and walking to her.

“You gonna make me feel good, Juicy?” she blushed as she helped him remove his shirt.

“Even better, baby, I’m gonna make you scream my name,” he growled before he connected his lips to her neck making her moan at the feeling as she ran her hands over his defined chest.

“God, you got even more handsome with time”

“Thanks, babe, I always thought you’re the most gorgeous woman I ever saw, you still are. now lay back on the bed and give me a taste of that sweet pussy of yours”

Clay was cooking in anger, he wanted nothing more than to march op to the dorms, kick in that door, and fucking kill Juice. But then again this was his own fault, he could have known this would happen when he wired Juice. He didn’t even think about the fact that he may hear the two of them going at it like rabbits. He wanted to be able to unhear the moans of his precious little girl that was clearly not so little anymore.

Clay sat at his table alone in chappel growling things to himself when suddenly the doors to the room closed with a bang. When he looked up he saw y/n standing there with her arms crossed looking straight at him but surprisingly not in anger.

“You could have just asked me, dad. I would have truthfully answered you,” she said as she walked closer until she was right next to him and placed the wiring device on the table in front of him.

“I’m not gonna say I’m sorry kid”

“I know, but you didn’t need to wire him. He’s loyal to the club and he loves me, treats me right, what more do you want dad? Did you just wanted to test his trust now you know we’re together?”

Clay took a deep breath, normally he wouldn’t discuss these kinds of things with someone who wasn’t a member.

“No princess, I wasn’t testing him, it was a good bonus, I’ll give you that. But I just wanted to know if your mother told you that I wasn’t your father, I didn’t want to lose you,”

“Oh daddy, It doesn’t matter if John Teller is my biological father, to me you’ll always be my dad. Hell who thought me to notice when someone was wired, who thought me to fight, to stick up for myself, and many more things? You did, now be a man and make things right with mom” y/n chuckled before giving her father a kiss on his cheek and made her way out of the room.

“Who taught you to be this vivacious?” He called out after his daughter with a laugh.

“You and mom did!” she responded before she joined Juice who was waiting for her at the bar.

#juice ortiz #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz x reader #juice x reader #juice ortiz x y/n #juice ortiz smut #juan ortiz x reader #juan carlos ortiz #sons of anarchy #theo rossi #juice ortiz fic #juice ortiz fluff #jax teller #clay morrow #gemma teller

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geekkatsblog · 3 years

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Grey's Anatomy season 17×06 Review

(How the f**k they just gonna leave me on read like this till March 4th)

The episode was a rollercoaster but something tells me the real ride is going to happen from the next episode.

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Maggie

I knew Winston was gonna show up in person at some point or the other. When he dropped the long distance wasn't working line and put the phone down in her ear so he could get some 'eggs' I knew he was in Seattle, good for her she's going to need him to lean on seeing that Mer freaking crashed again. At least she'll have somebody there for her because all her other support is personally attached to Meredith as well.

Besides Winston turning up, treating Tom and her being understandably giddy at Mer being awake there was also a scene where she educated Amelia on some things now I won't get into the details again but I'm just in love with the fact that Grey's isn't afraid to touch on controversial topics, they use their large platform to raise awareness and their speeches are always on point.

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Teddy/Owen

(She needed the time off more than Bailey did tbh)

My God was it satisfying when Richard literally just tore into her. She put herself in the situation and is now taking her anger out on others which is really in poor taste. Poor Helm, I hope she didn't take it personally. At this point it's her time to annoy me, I miss the season 6 Teddy, hopefully she redeems herself soon. After being torn apart by Webber's words she then proceeds to make things worst by revealing yet another big secret to Owen at work. (At least this time it was on purpose.) She just needs to take some time away and think on what she really wants and needs to reflect before spontaneously starting potentially life changing conversations. First it was telling Tom they had a chance then it was telling Owen that she still loves him and the kids while also revealing that she named their daughter after not only her best friend but also the woman that she was very much in love with. Pick a struggle Teddy at this point she's seeming confused more than anything else.

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Owen

For the past few seasons Owen was one of the characters getting on my nerves but lately he's been fine. He hasn't redeemed himself yet but his probation is going fine. Watching this show really shows how good of a person a doctor has to be in order to follow the ethical guidelines. If I had that scum bag for a patient I would have literally just pretended to fail at saving him and let the guy die, (guess that's why the Lord made me suck at Chemistry and Physics) his response to Bob about him being at the devils barbecue was badass, gave me serious season 5 Owen vibes or vibes like when he punched that guy out for disrupting the ER when he was chief, Major Hunt reporting for duty.

As for him and Teddy I can get why he was upset, her he was about to attempt to make amends at probably rekindling a friendship or maybe their relationship and she revels that your daughter is named after her lover, she could have atleast told him that when they were in the naming process, he deserved to know exactly who his child was being named after. I'm kinda a bitch but there was no way I'd feel comfortable having my child named after my partner's lover. On the other hand he should hear her out he has literally cheated twice and both times he sat and was able to share his side of the story and the woman he was with listened to his explanations. Teddy deserves as much, it might hurt but he did the same and Karma unfortunately is still a bitch.

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Bailey

(I just wanted to give her a hug the whole night.)

She has a really unhealthy habit of working through her grief, first her miscarriage and now through the death of her mom. I'm honestly sad that Ben had to be the one to comfort Tuck and tell him his grandmother had even died (she's always so busy, Ben is pratically the one raising him at this point.) And I'm also upset that I haven't gotten to see Ben being there for her either. I'm assuming it might be a protocol on the sets.

At least she took time off of the cases, I understand why she didn't want to go home as a doctor she has the highest risk of transporting the virus, but her mind understandably wasn't going to be in the doctoring game. I really thought they were gonna make her freeze up and accidentally kill a patient or something, but at least they didn't go down that line. And what even happened to her dad? did he take the Covid test? Wheres he staying now? Is he safe?

The conversations between her and Deluca were sweet, it's another unexpected friendship, before the only one she really disclosed any details of her life with was Richard but now they're opening her support group which is fine. I'm also glad that Deluca was able to look past the whole fiasco last season and hold no grudges. She has now fully redeemed herself completely, she's still my all time favorite character but from season 13 to probably mid season 16 she really had some storylines and scenes that irked me to watch and made me question some things, but now she's back on track at least to me.

Also I know that Richard is the chief of chiefs but how are they just gonna let him take back over the surgery unit like that again? I mean I did miss him as chief but now Bailey just basically seems like a regular old surgeon with a fancy office, idk it just seems kinda weird to me.

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Jackson

Not only carrying on the work and teachings of Mark Sloan but also using his boatload of cash to rescue a patient's mother from racist police who should have been the ones actually in prison. That was basically it for him though.

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Oml I honestly almost forgot she was even really in the episode. She had so little screen time. She's still in the middle of transitioning to OB. I have no issue with that because OB's still can do surgery, so we'll still get to see her and she'll be happy again plus it's about time that Grey's cashes in that Regulars card on Carina. We see her on Station 19 as an accessory I want to see the Jo and Carina tag team.

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Amelia

Not really much in this episode. No content with Link she just did surgery to save the scum with Owen. They may have made a mediocre couple but they work good as friends. Also I'm assuming she's off of maternity leave now? Did they mention that I'm not sure but she's back now.

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Richard

Not much of a storyline, he made the decision to put Meredith on the Vent and is busy running the hospital as the chief of the hospital again I guess. And also spitting the much needed facts that Teddy needed to hear.

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Tom

They're finally showing more of Tom's good side, I mean I always liked him and saw the potential in his character but they never really showed his soft side for a prolonged period like they did today. May I just say I enjoyed his and Meredith's friendly banter they have the same lowkey dark humor and at least it would have taken their minds off of being sick especially for him because he basically has no one else. Hearing him open up about his son and expressing how he'd do anything to hear him say dad again was sad I can only imagine his pain. Meredith was his reason for holding on especially after he had to witness his roommate die from Covid, the same thing he's suffering from right before his eyes and now Mer back unconscious this time with a tube down her throat I'm just really hoping that he keeps the faith, the last thing we need is a death right now.

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Meredith

(God damn it Mer all you had to do was stay awake.)

For a few brief moments all was right with the world Meredith was awake and everyone was happy and then she just had to go be Wonder Woman and over exert herself, but that's the thing they would have probably needed armed guards at the doors to keep her from putting someone else's life above her own, its one of her best qualities and at times one of her worst. I knew it was too good to be true when she was awake and laughing. It was giving me Mark Sloan final episode vibes. They better not kill her off that would be the worst ending for me, what about the kids? Step off the damn beach Mer you've gone through too much to let Covid take you out. On the other hand this gives us more beach scenes. It's more unlikely to have a live character return but there's still lots of dead ones to choose from, her mother is always a likely suspect, Denny loved being on the show and I think Breaking bad had its final season, Mark is a toss up based on how he cut ties with the show and Lexie is also a toss up because she is filming Supergirl in another country, however anything is possible with Grey's. I thought the beach scenes were over because she was waking up but look how wrong I was. All I hope is that they don't kill her off its unlikely because she's the main character but still its Grey's they like to go out with a bang.

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Deluca

I left him for last because to me he really did have the biggest storyline of the night.

Firstly I'm glad to see that at least part of the earliers season's Deluca has returned. I loved him as the passionate, badass and almost cocky guy as well but I always missed his more compassionate and softer side more. I'm glad to see it back and I'm also glad to see that he's taking his meds and resting, and I can confirm that having support is a needed factor in treating mental health. As strange as it was seeing the Bailey and Deluca chat it's good that they both have each other. They both suffer from mental illnesses and can relate to each other on a different level. They have me wondering now if they're going to use his mental health issues as a way to separate him and Mer, or use it as the reason why he pursued her, kinda like how they tried to blame Amelia's tumor for her bad decisions and then used it to break her and Owen up. I guess we'll just have to see where Merluca will go from here or if it will manifest Merhaynes instead.

Now onto the big stuff, the whole sex trafficking thing the whole episode I was literally yelling at the tv for either Deluca, Bailey or Carina to see that bitch, the moment it was connected that the kidnapper was involved in trafficking and she showed up I knew shit was about to go down. My heart was racing when I saw her with Schmitt. I really thought she was going to attack him with how sus she was being, luckily she had to go to avoid further suspicion. They need to put security on those girls' door. They've been through enough. If she goes to finish off Bob then no one cares but the girls don't deserve to go through anything else and Deluca after seeing her decided to go after him himself instead of calling the police, granted the police wasn't doing anything helpful but the last thing we need is for him to go after her himself like Superman and trying to save the day. At least Carina went with him so she can help talk him down if necessary but there's only so much she can do.

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There are too many damn superheroes in that hospital.

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My questions are:

• Will both Tom and Meredith make it out of the Covid sickness or will one or even both of them die?

• Will Teddy finally make her mind up so that the Teddy, Tom and Owen love triangle can finally have an ending?

• Who the hell is coming to the beach next? And can they tell Meredith to get her ass off of the beach and never return until she's like 80?

• Will Superman, I mean Deluca save the day without needing medical attention afterwards? Or worst yet needing a casket?

• Is Jo actually switching specialties?

• Are they going to go after the girls or kill Bob instead?

• How is it going to go with Maggie and Winston now that he has arrived in person?

• And lastly and most importantly what am I supposed to do with my Thursday nights until March 4th.

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overheardatthecontinental · 3 years

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Talk Chapter 19

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It was over, but not done.

There were still so many things to do before John could drop everything and go home to Helen.

He starts by calling Nick.

“H-hello?” Jesus, the boy really was afraid of him.

Ironic, John thinks, considering he owes this kid more than he can ever hope to repay for allowing Helen to contact him during her imprisonment. And then looking out for her at the cost of his job, possibly his life if DeLuca had found out.

“It’s done.” He says, “DeLuca’s going to be picked up by Adjudication. Are you able to stay until someone gets there to pick up Isabella?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. The, uh, the bounty’s dropped then?”

He exhales and, fuck, it feels so good.

The bounty is dropped. The contract is closed. And while he doesn’t think either of them will ever be truly safe, no one is coming after her anymore.

“Yes.”

“Good. That’s, that’s good.” Nick sounds relieved, too. The younger man pauses for a moment and then tentatively asks, “Would you do me a favor, Mister Wick, sir? She told me if I ever wanted to talk… I just was wondering if you could ask her to call me. When she’s back and settled and shi—stuff. Stuff.”

And, god, Helen was just that good. And it had started as manipulation, he knew. A way to save herself when he wasn’t there to do the job but there was no doubt in John’s mind that Helen would meet with Nick every week, for as long as he needed.

“Yeah, kid. I’ll pass it along.”

“Thank you.”

John pauses, thoughtfully. “When Isabella’s been picked up, head over to the Continental. Ask for Winston. New York is always busy. I know they’re looking to hire another Sommelier. It’ll pay more than Syndicate; I can guarantee that. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He shakes his head, in disbelief of himself. He knew Helen was his reason, but John couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment he had gone utterly and completely soft .

Maybe she’d have some insight to that, he thinks, smiling to himself.

And, because he doesn’t want the knowledge that he has gone soft to spread, he adds, “Don’t fuck it up” and ends the call.

After all, he isn’t done in the Underworld.

For starters, the contract had been dropped but that didn’t mean the memo had gotten out. And that needed to happen before he brought Helen back home. The last thing he wanted was to bring her back only to have some kid target her because they ignored the notice.

The hotel buzzes as John walks through the front door.

He ignores it, as he always does, approaching the front desk. There’s a small queue that has gathered in front of Charon, but the Concierge waves him up.

“The Manager is expecting you. He is in his office.”

John nods his thanks and turns towards the hall where he’ll find Winston, only to run into Verdugo.

The other assassin looks him over, regarding him with vague interest. He’s carrying a weapons bag, slung over a shoulder. A duffle bag resides in his other hand.

He’s leaving, John realizes. Verdugo was a drifter.

The only thing that had kept him in New York was the possibility of a substantial bounty that has since been removed.

Verdugo breaks the silence first, “I’ll admit, when I heard you were trying to get the bounty removed, I didn’t think you could do it.”

John raises a brow.

Because what the hell is he supposed to say to that?

Oh, no worries. Totally get it. You wouldn’t have wasted both our time if you had only realized sooner that you couldn’t kill my love?

“It was just business.”

Now that, John thinks, is something he’s grown very tired of hearing.

The Underworld, for better or worse—and right now, John Wick was very much leaning towards worse , was all about money and advancement. Status.

The values he has been exposed to, he realizes, had been very self-serving. No wonder so many narcissists and hedonists thrived in the Underworld.

And John had survived because he was so self-reliant. He had thrived in a world where favors are currency by being willing to help others and avoiding asking for any help in return. It made him rich, in more than just money. The pile of markers in his collection is unparalleled.

But he still went home alone. To an empty house. In an empty life, where escapism had been his only fulfillment.

Drifting.

In control but, somehow, still empty.

Until Helen had forced her way into his head, laying claim to his heart.

And suddenly everything that had once seemed so complicated and out of reach was within his grasp.

In that moment, he pities Verdugo.

A man, so much like him in so many ways. A drifter. Free of roots and obligation. Making a name for himself by virtue of skill and competency. But hollow like a tin soldier.

Verdugo will move on to the next contract. The name Helen Kingston will be replaced with another unfortunate soul, who John is certain will not be as lucky.

And he’ll make his money and build his legacy.

And he’ll go home alone. To an empty house. In an empty life.

John wants to kill him along with anyone else who had hurt or threatened Helen’s life, but it occurs to him that might be a mercy. And maybe Verdugo doesn’t deserve mercy but John didn’t deserve mercy, either. But it had found him.

Still, he feels the need to say, “If I ever see you anywhere near her…”

“You won’t.” Verdugo assures him, “Be seeing you.”

“No.” John says, “You won’t.”

He leaves Verdugo standing in the hall as he makes his way to Winston’s office.

The old man doesn’t even look up as John walks in. “It would appear that you had a busy day.” He says as he practically collapses into one of the leather chairs.

“Busy week.” John amends, “I think I finally understand the phrase thank god it’s Friday .”

Winston smirks, rising to his feet, “Drink?”

He shakes his head, “No, thank you. I’ve had enough today, while playing politics. Did you happen to hear from Sofia?”

“Yes,” Winston says, pouring himself brandy, “I already sent someone to collect Mateo. And Isabella. She said you got a confession from the former.”

“Lorenzo plans to force the counsel to convene on Monday, here in the city.”

“He wants justice meted out swiftly.”

“That makes two of us.” John agrees with a nod. “I want this done and in the past.”

“Understandably. You managed the impossible this week.”

“Didn’t think I could do it?” John asks, thinking of his conversation with Verdugo and the time that had been wasted pursuing Helen Kingston.

“On the contrary,” Winston says, taking the seat next to him, “You made me a great deal of money.”

John arches a brow.

“You successfully removing the bounty was the long odds over at Dex’s. Fifty to one.”

And, fuck, but that makes him laugh. He didn’t realize how much he needed that after the stress of the day, “How much did you put down?”

“Five grand.” Winston looks at him strangely and it occurs to John that he’s probably never laughed in front of Winston before.

“Well-played.” He says, shaking his head in amusement. While he never intends to tell Helen of the betting odds placed on when she would die and by whose hand, he can’t help but think that she’d get a kick out of it. Either that, or she’d be pissed she never got a chance to get in on the action.

Yeah. That sounds right.

“I know the rumor mill will have heard that the contract was dropped,” John says, “but is it possible to get Administration to send out a mass message? To confirm it, and make sure anybody working solo is notified?”

“I’ll see to it myself.”

John nods gratefully. That would make him feel much better about taking her back to the city. Although he’s already mentally preparing himself for the wave of anxiety that will surely hit the moment, he leaves her alone to go back to work. He tables that particular worry for now.

“I have another favor to ask.”

Winston rolls his eyes, “Indeed?”

“Nick Russo. Ex-Syndicate. He burnt some bridges today to help keep Helen safe. I’d appreciate it if you considered him for the second Sommelier position you were considering opening up.”

The old man hums, “I’ll meet with him.”

“Thank you.”

And just like that, two things are checked off his list.

Winston was good like that. As Manager, it was his job to be accommodating and helpful and ensure everyone was getting the best services that could be offered to those serving the High Table. But it was also more than that.

For decades, Winston had been a mentor to him.

After being introduced by Charon, Winston had immediately taken to the young, reckless assassin. He’d seen something that others had brushed to the side.

And John had been skeptical. Untrusting.

But Winston had been relentless. He offered sound advice that John found hard to ignore. Slowly, John had found himself utilizing the Manager. After moving back to New York, it became clear that Winston knew the city and its inhabitants better than anyone.

Somewhere along the line, John had begun to trust him.

Winston had tried to line John up for Management but had accepted his decision when John, respectfully, denied interest in such a path. While Winston mourned John’s lack of ambition, he continued to serve as a mentor.

Arguably, the closest thing John had ever had to a father-figure.

John doesn’t doubt, for a moment, his decision to retire. He will miss very little about the Underworld. But Winston would be counted amongst them.

And while John doesn’t particularly want to have this conversation, he owes it to Winston to be the one to tell him.

“I’ve decided to retire.”

Winston’s head turns sharply, “Pardon?”

John sits up straighter in the chair, “I’m retiring. As soon as everything has been taken care of, I’m leaving the Underworld.”

“Jonathan, you have obligations.” Winston says, shaking his head, “You can’t just retire .”

“Lorenzo is freeing me of my contractual obligations. I intend to reach out to Viggo to make arrangements as well.”

“Lorenzo D’Antonio is letting you walk away?” The surprise is evident in his voice.

John nods.

“Miraculous in itself, but you cannot expect Viggo to do the same.”

“I won’t take no for an answer.” John says softly, “One way or another, I’m getting out. And I’ve made up my mind about this. It won’t be changed.”

He leaves no room for argument. Bittersweet as it may be, there is nothing that can change his mind anymore. Even if Helen didn’t want him, he would have left to keep her safe. His enemies wouldn’t have used her against him if he was no longer a problem.

But Helen did want him. She loved him, beyond all reason.

“Whatever will you do?”

John feels his lips twitch. Aside from keeping house and devoting the majority of his time to ensuring Helen’s happiness—that she never regrets choosing him, he really isn’t sure. He knew he didn’t have it in him, nor did he have the credentials or the qualifications, to work in the real world. At least, for most occupations.

And, truthfully, he was tired of the constant work.

Hating his life and coming home to an empty house, John had filled his life with work. Work until the point of distraction. Which meant extra jobs, far beyond working for money. He worked to kill people and time, respectively.

Decades of working seven days a week, every day of the year.

He’s looking forward to the break.

Maybe he’d pick up a hobby. He’d continue to bind books through the coldness of the winter. Maybe he’d even start to sell them or volunteer with a library to fix old tomes.

Maybe, come springtime, he’d actually open the pool in his backyard which had been closed and unused since he first moved in.

He planned to cook for her. Maybe he’d get into that. Learn to make things from scratch. To bake.

The possibilities were endless.

“I don’t know.” He answers honestly and he’s… surprisingly okay with that. The uncertainty would usually throw him for a loop, but John finds himself completely and unexpectedly happy not knowing. It was freeing.

“Are you—”

“Yes.” John interrupts before Winston can say sure . “More sure, more certain than I have ever been about anything in my life.”

Winston nods, slowly. He doesn’t understand, John knows. The old man probably won’t ever understand why John was giving up the wealth, the prestige, the permanent get-out-of-jail-free card that existed for the members of the Underworld.

“When?” He asks.

“As soon as possible. I plan on testifying Monday. I’ll meet with Viggo after and inform him of my intentions.”

“It will not be easy.”

“I don’t expect it to be. But it won’t matter. Whatever Viggo demands, I’ll do it.”

And he would. Nothing would stop him.

They sit in silence as Winston seems to digest it all. It’s odd, he thinks. He knows Winston disapproves, just as he had when John had first told him about Helen. But Winston knows that John doesn’t give a fuck about approval. No one’s opinion influenced him, save Helen’s.

He missed her.

It had only been hours since he had last held her in his arms, and he missed her.

Was this what it was to be in love? To crave the presence of another in any and every form? To hold them in your mind’s eye even when you are away?

How did people stand it, living like this?

And yet, John acknowledges, he would not give it up for the world.

“I find myself at a loss for words.” Winston says after minutes of silence. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You were ready to burn New York to the ground to find her. Ready to declare war on the High Table to get her back.” The old man shakes his head, “And you seem certain. I know your mind will not be changed. But I feel the need to ask you, once more, Jonathan: is she really worth it?”

John thinks of her smile.

The kindness in her eyes.

The warmth of her touch.

Her quick wit. Her inquisitive nature. The way she just accepted things as they were. The way she shut him down when he was starting to bullshit himself. The books he had mentioned in passing on her bedside table as she made the effort no one else had to understand him.

John nods, “She really is.”

……….

He parks the car and John feels another wave of relief wash over him. The fact that it’s over, that Helen is safe keeps hitting him again and again. And now, he’s within feet of her.

John slips out of the car, admiring for the first time since they moved to the Vermont safehouse how bright the stars were when there were no lights around.

The front door opens and Marcus steps out, his bag in his hand.

“I take it everything went well?”

John nods. “You leaving?”

Marcus nods back, closing the door behind him. “After everything, I figured you two could probably use some time alone.”

He’s grateful for Marcus’ reasoning. While John had no intention of kicking Marcus out, he’s right. The only thing John wants to do is wrap Helen up in his arms and never let her go.

“Thank you.” He says, “For everything. I’ll never be able to re—”

“Don’t.” Marcus shakes his head. “I was happy to do it. More for her sake than for yours. You’re still kind of a dick but… she makes you almost tolerable.”

John huffs out a laugh, “Who would have thought.”

“That the only person capable of taking you down was a therapist who can barely form a sentence fragment without coffee?” Marcus exhales in disbelief. “Mind-boggling. Call me when you two get back to the city.”

“Will do.” John promises as Marcus throws his duffle into the trunk of his car as he makes his way up the short stairs and into the cottage.

John slips off his suit jacket, hanging it by the door. He undoes the buttons on his vest, one by one, as he walks down the hall towards the living room. He tugs that off, too, draping it over the couch.

She’s not in the living room or the kitchen. He continues down the hall towards their bedroom. The door is open and, sure enough, Helen is in bed. Her back leans against the headboard, a book is open in her hand.

John leans against the door, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt.

Before him is a sight he could spend an eternity gazing in wonder at. Her glasses have slipped down the bridge of her nose as she reads. He watches as she reaches for her bookmark without looking up, turning the page as she inserts it.

Without a glance, she smiles, “Hi honey, how was your day?” She asks as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He loves her for it. For making him feel some semblance of normality amidst the bullshit and the chaos.

John swallows even as his lips twitch in amusement. “Oh, you know. Bitch of a commute. Faked a powerful man’s death. Tried my hand at politics. Not a fan. Then I took down a mafia boss.”

She sets her book aside before removing her glasses. Helen scans him up and down, assessing for injuries.

His heart swells with love and adoration. It consumes him and makes it almost difficult to breathe. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with all these emotions flowing through him.

And, like she can sense he’s overwhelmed, Helen stands up. She crosses the room, her dark eyes gazing into him.

He wonders if she can see his soul. And if she can, will she change her mind about him? Will she realize how truly terrible, how awful he is?

But as he looks into those brown eyes, all he sees reflected back is love.

She loves him, he thinks, even though he doesn’t deserve it. He was a despicable human being. One who had dragged her into the depths of Hell. Even still, she never wavered.

Helen was stronger than he ever hoped to be.

And she loved him. Despite everything.

It staggers him.

Helen reaches him and he cannot help but fall to his knees before her. His arms wrap around her middle, seemingly of their own accord, and he buries his face against her stomach. John’s breath escapes him in a shudder as her arms come up around him, holding him.

She strokes his hair and he can barely hold back a sob.

“I love you, John.”

And, fuck it all, the dam breaks.

He’d lost her, this week.

Someone had taken her, stolen her from her bed. Had hurt her to get to him. Had put a bounty on her head for the sole purpose of manipulating him, simultaneously activating agents to find her and kill his beloved.

Verdugo, who promised to make it quick.

Kate, who would have obliterated Helen until there was nothing left.

The kids in the alley, looking to make a name for themselves, would have killed her.

Along with the hundreds of others who had searched for her, even idly.

He had spent a week feeling out of control, out of his depth. Unsure of how to save her, hating himself for putting her into that position. Terrified that one wrong move could lead to her death.

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out, aware that his tears are soaking into her shirt.

She steps back, only to drop to her knees, too. Her arms wrap around him in a tight hug as he rests his head at the crook of her neck. A hand comes up to cradle his head.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She assures him.

He swallows, heavily. He’s not sure when he last cried but it had to have been decades.

“It’s my fault…”

The arm around his back tightens and she turns her face to his head.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t… didn’t protect you better… and---”

“Hey,” the hand on his head moves to his cheek and she leans back to look at him. Her thumb strokes a tear, “You didn’t know. You had no reason to suspect that I would be targeted. But you know what?” Her fingers massage his neck, “I’m glad I was.”

He tilts his head in disbelief.

“If DeLuca hadn’t have taken me,” she says softly, “I would have seen you for an hour this week. And an hour next. And the week after that. And that would be it. I would have loved you from afar because that’s all I could do.

“But now,” she runs her fingers down his face, “I can hold you. And kiss you. And love you. And that is more than worth the price of spending a couple uncomfortable days locked in a basement and a couple more hidden away from the world.”

John shakes his head, because she is unreal sometimes. “You deserve so much be—”

“ We don’t get to decide what we deserve, John. That’s never been up to us.” She echoes what she had told him that day in her office. Hours before she had been taken. “But we do get some say in how we’re going to live.”

John finds himself swallowing, his breath hitching as he tries to breathe in. “And how are we going to live?”

“Well,” Helen says with a soft smile, “We’re going to start by hiding away for the rest of the weekend. And you’re going to make good on your promise to fuck me on your tongue until I can’t scream anymore.”

He can’t help but chuckle at how serious she sounds but fuck . Yeah, he’s definitely doing that.

“And then, we’re going to go home. And instead of picking my lock to sneak inside and watch me sleep, you’re going to fall asleep next to me. And instead of leaving before daylight, you’re going to wake up with me. Every day.

“We’ll take weekend trips to Vermont, every now and then. I’ll make you go antiquing with me.” He laughs at that. Helen smiles back, continuing, “And I’ll make you take me to that other house you’ve got in Maine.”

“It’s on a lake.” He tells her, thinking she might like that. He’ll buy a boat. Or a few, unsure if she’d prefer a motorboat or something like a kayak. Whatever she decides, she’ll have. She’ll never want for anything so long as he is breathing.

Helen moves so that she is high on her knees. Her hands reach to cup either side of his face and she leans in to press her lips to his forehead.

“We’re going to have a really good life.” She promises and fuck, he believes her. “And we’re going to be so fucking happy.”

She kisses her way down his face, slowly. Tenderly.

Her lips reach his. How, he thinks, can a kiss be so gentle? So different than anything he’s ever experienced.

It was glorious when she kissed him passionately. It drove him wild when her teeth nipped at his lips or her tongue greedily sucked at his own.

But she’s being so soft that it might very well break him again.

She didn’t look at him and see the Boogeyman. Even knowing who he was, she didn’t let it influence her opinion of him.

He felt human in her arms, in her eyes.

He loves her for it. Among the plethora of reasons that he loved and adored her.

John wraps his arms under her thighs, rising to his feet, and pulling her up with ease.

She kisses the corner of his mouth as he carries her over to the bed. “I love you,” she whispers as he lays her down.

They both undress, taking their time.

The initial desperation has faded and while John is certain it will come back again, he is more than content to take it slow.

When they are both naked, John revels in the warmth of her skin. He kisses his way around her body, allowing his hands the time to memorize every curve, dip, and swell of her body. And she lets him, like she knows how badly he needs this.

And she probably does, he thinks. She’s always been in his head.

Helen’s hand reaches the top of his head, stroking back his hair as he kisses every inch of skin he can reach from his place atop of her.

His open-mouth grazes across her collarbone and John soaks in the way her hand tightens in his hair, her sharp intake of breath as his teeth scrape against her skin. He wonders what other sounds he can coax from her body… He’ll spend forever finding out.

John kisses her lips again. How addictive that feeling, that taste has become.

One hand tilts her head, allowing him to deepen the kiss while his other stretches down her perfect body, dipping between her thighs. He cups her core, feeling the warmth radiating from within her. He dips a finger between her folds. She’s soaking and it’s all for him .

He kisses her harder, feeling his lips bruise as he gently circles his clit with his finger.

She moans into his mouth and he swallows it down.

I love you , he thinks, and has to remind himself that he can say that now. He doesn’t have to keep it bottled in. He wonders how long it will take until he can say it without hesitation. Until it spills as easily from his lips as it comes to echo in his mind.

“I love you, Hels.” He tells her, kissing down her jaw.

“John!” She cries out as he continues to toy with her sensitive clit. He reaches down, coating his fingers in her slick heat before pressing them into her opening. His thumb takes over rolling over the sensitive bundles of nerves.

Helen whimpers, her nails digging into his back. He nips at her throat with his teeth. She’s marked him well enough. Now it’s his turn.

He wants to claim her. To leave his mark all over her so that anyone who sees her will have no doubt that she is taken. One day, he swears to himself that he’ll put a ring on her finger, but until then, he’ll be content with this.

More than content.

He sucks at her neck and plays with her clit until she is a moaning, writhing mess. Before she can reach her release, however, he removes his fingers from her pussy and brings them to his lips.

Helen shudders as she watches him suck her essence from his fingers.

His own cock twitches at the taste.

When he is done, she grabs his hair and yanks him back for a kiss. She sucks on his tongue, tasting herself and he’s never been harder in his life.

John takes his heavy cock in hand and brings it to her entrance. He pushes inside slowly, inch by inch. Letting himself focus on every sensation. The way her pussy yields to him, clenching around him. The way her stomach tightens and her breath stutters. Her grip around him.

He closes his eyes as he finds himself completely buried inside of her. His hips cannot go any further.

The hitch in her breath delights him. John draws back out, reveling in the soft changes in her breath, before he drives back in. Helen cries out and he kisses her neck. Her pussy tightens around him at the sensation.

He’s never needed anyone the way he needs her.

He knows he never will again.

This woman is everything to him. She is it for him. And he’ll love her with every fiber, every atom of his being until he dies. And then beyond.

“Fuck, baby!” She cranes her neck, giving him more access.

He makes a mental note of how much she loves the attention he’s paying to her throat. He nips and she arches her back, crying out yet again. Clenching around him, again.

John rolls his hips, careful to ensure steady pressure to her clit.

Because it’s about her. It’s always been about her.

He lifts his head, turning her head back to him so he can kiss her yet again. Languidly drowning in her as he takes his time fucking her, bringing her to the edge yet again.

Helen swears, her nails biting into him. Her hips meet his, grinding against him as she moans. His thrusts increase in speed and John feels Helen’s entire body seem to tighten.

And all at once, she breaks around him, crying out as a wave of pleasure slams into her. The way her pussy throbs around him is enough to make him lose his resolve and he soon finds himself spilling inside of her with a loud groan.

His eyes lose their focus as his head drops down to the pillow, nestling in the crook of her neck as he breathes heavily. The rush of immediate pleasure leaves him but he is left feeling glorious as he lies on top of her body, still buried inside of her, still feeling the aftershocks of her own orgasm milking him.

With an exhale, he raises his head to look back at her. Her beautiful eyes gazing at him.

Helen reaches up. She pushes back the hair which had fallen into his face before wrapping her hand around to the back of his head, guiding his forehead to rest on hers.

“I love you, John.”

“I love you, too.” He says, swallowing back the emotions that overwhelm him.

And he’s never going to let her forget it. She will never have the opportunity to forget or doubt that he loves her. That she is his everything.

What she said earlier was true: they were going to be so fucking happy.

And he was going to do this right.

John kisses her cheek, “How about I buy you dinner?”

Helen smiles back, “After all this, you better.”

......

One more chapter of this installment to come

thanks to @meetmeinthematinee for reviewing and editing <3

#john wick talk #john wick #john wick fanfiction #john x helen wick #helen wick #john wick prequel #overheard at the continental #the Matrix has queue #john wick fanfic #john wiction

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years

Text

Doyenne ~ Part 1

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy needs the help of one of Birmingham’s most successful and secretive underground gangs, the Hemlock Angels. Little does he know, he’s not the king of Birmingham after all.

Warnings: None for this chapter

Word Count: 2591

______________________________

Thomas Shelby awaited your arrival anxiously in his office. He’d never admit it but he was always slightly anxious when it came to making deals, especially with new partners. With old associates, like Alfie Solomons, Tommy could predict their actions. He knew the likelihood of them double crossing him, how much threatening it would take to get them to comply, and who to threaten to harm if they didn’t. There was too much out of control with new potential business partners.

You, on the other hand, loved making new business partners. Your “business,” as one could call it, was much more underground than a lot of the other ones like it but that didn’t mean that you were unsuccessful. Quite the contrary. In fact, you were the leading exporter of whiskey to the United States, had control of the fighting rings, and had begun to dabble in money laundering and counterfeiting. Unlike the men, however, you kept your dealings quiet. All these other gangs liked to do things like offer protection or have designated territories that others could get shot for stepping foot in. All of this was unnecessary to you and, typically, you preferred to stay out of it, but when Thomas Shelby requested a meeting, you couldn’t resist.

At 10:00 am sharp, you found yourself walking into the doors of Shelby Company Limited. You looked around, noting the dark colors on the walls and all of the wooden furniture. You made sure to take note of every door and window that you could see and the position of all the employees around the building. Some might call it paranoia, but you preferred to call it covering your bases. No such thing as being too careful when it came to dealing with gangsters.

“Can I help you, miss?” A gruff voice asked. You looked up to see a man with the same haircut as all the other men here, buzzed short on the side and long on top, and a large mustache over his top lip.

“I’m here to see Thomas Shelby.” You explained.

The man shook his head slightly, “May I ask what for?” The words were polite but his tone was interrogative.

You weren’t sure who this man was or what he was allowed to know. “I have a meeting with him at ten,” you paused, making a show of checking your pocket watch, trying to indicate that you didn’t have time for this go around, “Or well, now, I suppose.”

The man looked you up and down before nodding, “Follow me.” You followed him to an office in the back, “You have a meeting at ten? Tommy doesn’t usually do business with representatives. Where is Mr. L/N?” He asked.

You nodded, “I am L/N. Y/N L/N.” Every time you went in for a meeting with anyone, this happened. They always expected a man. The man’s eyes widened in realization but you saw his expression lighten just slightly. “You are?”

“Arthur Shelby. Vice President of Shelby Company Limited.” He announced, stopping at a door that clearly read Thomas Shelby, CEO.

You extended your hand to the man, “Well, thank you Mr. Shelby. It’s nice to meet you.” Arthur’s eyes flickered to your hand for a moment before taking it, shaking it hesitantly.

He rapped his knuckles on the wooden door. “Tommy. I have L/N here to see you.”

“Come in.” A rough voice answered from the other side of the door. Arthur opened it and you stepped inside. The office was quite spacious and clean for the most part.

A rather attractive man that you correctly assumed to be Thomas Shelby sat at the desk facing you, removing his glasses and looking at you with confusion in his piercing blue eyes, “Who are you?” He questioned bluntly.

Every time.

“L/N. Y/N L/N. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Shelby.” You took the initiative to introduce yourself.

The confused look melted away, quickly fronted with sudden professionalism. He stood up front behind his desk and readjusted his black jacket just enough to flash the pistol at his side, an action you assumed was a habit of his when meeting new people to intimidate them as if everyone in this line of work wasn’t armed. “Of course, Miss. L/N. My apologies. I was just expecting a-”

“Man. I know. Most people do. We came to discuss business though. Correct, Mr. Shelby?” You asked, eyebrow raised. Straight to the point, concise. It showed that you meant business and didn’t come to be dismissed due to your gender.

Thomas nodded, “Ah, yes. Please, have a seat.” He extended his hand, gesturing to the seat across the desk from him. “Thank you, Arthur, we have it from here.” You had forgotten that the other Shelby brother was still in the room. Without glancing back, you heard the door close behind you.

“So, Miss. L/N, you’re the head of the Hemlock Angels?” Tommy leaned back in his chair, glancing down into his glass of what you knew was whiskey.

The name always made you cringe inside, never intending for your operation to have an official name. But Tommy didn’t need to know that. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am.” You answered straightforwardly.

“You’re a very difficult person to find.” He noted, leaning forward now.

You nodded, “That’s how I prefer to keep it. It’s hard to run these sorts of businesses in the open. I would say I’m sure you would understand but the Peaky Blinders have been running the streets for the last decade or so quite publicly, if I remember correctly.”

“We all had our quiet beginnings. It would just appear to me that perhaps our goals were different.” He sipped his drink, “But back to what I called you for. From what I hear, you export whiskey to America, correct?”

You crossed your legs, sitting back in your chair, “That is true.”

Tommy continued, “And I hear you also counterfeit and launder money?” “Yes.” You confirmed.

His fingers laced together on his desktop. “I need your services. I’ve come into possession of certain… acquisitions that I need transported to America discreetly. I currently have no secure means of transportation.”

You cocked your head slightly, listening intently to him with a straight face, “And you wish to transport your acquisitions with my alcohol?”

The man nodded, “Yes. And as for the money, I need $100,000 American dollars counterfeited.”

At that request, you shook your head, “I don’t do American dollars.”

“If you can make British money, there must be a way to make American money. They don’t need to be perfect. In fact, I only need them to pass at a glance. I need the police to be able to detect them as counterfeits.” Tommy explained.

Your eyebrows scrunched, “Why do you need the police to detect them? And wouldn’t that just trace the money back to us?”

Tommy inhaled audibly, “I’m assuming that you have secure methods of ground transport for your whiskey. I, however, am relying on people I’ve never met personally before. I also happen to have people who’ve double crossed me and think I don’t know about it. I owe the latter group $100,000 American dollars. The plan is to give them the money and call in to the police about it. Have their whole operation busted. While the police are occupied with such a huge bust, we’ll be moving our goods with less of a chance of getting caught.”

“That seems like quite a bit of hassle for something that is only a diversion. Forgive me for saying so but this doesn’t seem like a very foolproof plan, Mr. Shelby. I don’t think I’m willing to risk my assets for this.” You admitted honestly.

“The counterfeit bills are not only a diversion but the ends to another deal with an old partner. Don’t think of it as a diversion. It’s killing two birds with one stone. And as for the security of this plan and your assets, rest assured that I’m no amateur, Miss. L/N. I am in control of everything. There are no loose ends.” Tommy’s words were spoken with reassurance but his tone also told you that he didn’t appreciate his skills being doubted.

You leaned forward, “And all of this in exchange for…?” You were curious as to what he’d offer. How would he know what you wanted or what your company needed?

Tommy tapped his hand on the desk, “I figure you name your price. We can negotiate from there.”

Well this was new. Usually people came in with their offer already prepared. You thought for a moment. What did you need? “Protection.”

“I can offer men to keep you safe.”

You shook your head with a chuckle and side smile, “You misunderstand, Mr. Shelby. I’m a big girl. I can keep myself safe. I need legal protection. From what I understand, you have an in with Winston Churchill. I have some exports that were seized by cops on the way to the drop off site. The number of whiskey bottles lost is not the concern but the men who were transporting them were good men. They have children and wives. We have a protocol in place just in case anything was ever seized. A specific story they've been instructed to tell to keep the company safe and keep them in as little trouble as possible. Considering our distillery hasn't been raided yet, I'm assuming they did as instructed. I need them released."

Tommy drew a sharp breath between his teeth and shook his head slightly, "I did have an in with Churchill but he's already done favors for me. I can't ask him for another."

Grabbing your bag, you shifted to begin to stand, "Well thank you for your time Mr. Shelby but that's all that I'm in need of at this time. Unfortunately, it seems like this deal won't work out after all."

"Wait, wait," Tommy put a hand up and you returned to your seat, "Now, look. I have no more pull now with Churchill but I have come into some incriminating on the Chief of Police. Career ruining information. If you provide me with $100,000 American dollars and use of your transportation, we will blackmail the chief into releasing your men.”

A small smile cracked on your lips and you nodded in agreement, your fingers crossed in your lap. But there was still something that had been concerning you since you heard that the infamous Thomas Shelby even wanted to speak with you. “One last issue I wanted to discuss with you, though, prior to finalizing this deal-”

“Is…?” He interrupted.

“Is that many people I know that’ve worked with you have warned me that you’re not to be trusted. I’ve heard stories of you double crossing partners, coming up short on your end, and sometimes not upholding your end at all. ‘Sudden changes to the agreement’, you called it I believe? I’ve been told that you force people to cooperate by threatening to kill them, even if they held up their end of the bargain.” You cocked an eyebrow, allowing him time to figure out exactly what you were insinuating.

You leaned forward, elbows now on his desk resting eye level with him. His face was emotionless but his eyes showed that he was deep in thought, trying to figure out what to say. But rather than let him, you continued, “Mr. Shelby, I do not do business with liars and crooks. The way it sounds like you make deals, it’s a miracle you even have people still willing to do business with you. I am willing to give this a chance but I am telling you this now. You will not fuck me over. I don’t care who you are or what you do. Because your past dealings have left you with a less than stellar reputation as a business partner, this is how things are gonna go: you’re going to get my men released. Then and only then will I hand over the money and accept whatever cargo it is that you’re shipping.”

Even when you were done, you didn’t lean back. You stayed put, eyes locked with his, not backing down. Your face was serious, eyebrows raised slightly, daring him to protest. The air hung thick between the two of you in the brief moments of silence where you found yourselves locked in each other’s eyes. It was like when you stared at a buck through the sights of a rifle, reveling in the beauty of the creature but also ready to pull the trigger. He leaned across the table, pointing a finger at you and speaking sternly but low, “Who the fuck do you think you are, coming into my office and telling me how things are gonna go?”

“I’m the person who has everything you need when you’re simply doing me a convenience. Y’see, I don’t need you. In time, I will get my men released without you. You’re simply expediting the process. I, on the other hand, am the best in the country in everything you need done.” Judging by the fire behind his eyes, he wasn’t used to being talked to like this, especially by a woman. You could see the cogs working in his head, trying to formulate an appropriate response to this. Usually, with the men, it was all violence and threats. But even Tommy knew that women typically took a different approach. Or maybe he could benefit from it.

“I don’t need you. I need your resources. If I wanted to, I could have you killed and your assets seized. Whatever press you print your counterfeits on would be in my possession and I’m sure your employees wouldn’t mind telling me how you transport your whiskey to America given the right encouragement.” His threat rambled on but you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ah, Mr. Shelby, you’re already off to a bad start with all these threats! See, you do need me. You don’t know where my distillery is or where we print bills or where we ship things from. You didn’t even know I was a woman. You know nothing and it scares you. Your insecurity shows through in the form of unnecessary violence. I’m not intimidated, though. And quite frankly, I’m tired of all of this back and forth. I simply needed to express to you that you will be upholding your end of the bargain without any threats and/or manipulation. I am, however, still willing to go through with all of this if you’re willing to meet my requirements.”

Tommy though for a moment. Was he able to pull this off? Sure, he did actually have dirt on the chief of police, and most men in power always caved in when their job was on the line, but how soon could he pull this off? It didn’t matter. These were logistics he’d figure out later.

Confidently, he nodded, “Alright, Miss. L/N. $50,000 American dollars up front before the men are released, the other $50,000 after. Final offer. Consider it a show of good faith on your end as well.”

Internally, you snickered at him for treating counterfeit bills as if they were the real deal, but you shook his hand nonetheless, figuring if it made him seal the deal, it was worth it. “It sounds like we have a deal then, Mr. Shelby.”

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder headcanon #thomas shelby #doyenne

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butterbeeryuta · 4 years

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johnny as your boyfriend; radio!au

a/n: thIS was requested a looooooong time ago, and i am so sorry that i only wrote this now. My mocks are finally done, and they actually went pretty well, so i hope my results will match whatever i am claiming skdjkjd. This headcanon was really fun to write, and it was overall just adorable oof alright, imma head to over to my next oneshot now. Hope all of you have a great day.

Okay so ya’ll are in uniVersity (as expected because I am writing this)

You met johnny 2 years ago when you were freshman looking for a job on campus cause um,,, college is a bitch

And you saw this uni radio show ‘Night Night’ which went live every wednesday at 9 in the evening

You honestly had no idea what they talked about since you’ve never listened to one

Despite the fact that your roommate Sicheng always talks about it and claims how great it is

BUT ANYWAY

You always enjoyed radio shows in general, and saw that they were hiring for another radio show personality

HMMmmMmmmM i wonDEr wheRe tHIS Is gOInG

You were one intellect my dear; you were studying political science at Konkuk University, meaning, you were one opinionated ass individual

But, you also had your crack side acCording to ur roommate

You fucking chased Sicheng around with those incense sticks cause you couldn’t find your go-to rolling pin to scare the shit out of him for eating your pack of strawberries

I swear the two of you are great friends ya’ll just show love to each other in quite a unique way

ANYWAYS

YeAH so you went to ask for the job cause you need money to buy a safe for your precious strawberries

You brought whatever requirements they asked for, and nyyOoooOOooooOOOOnged your way over there

It was a pretty old building, or radio station per se. not that it was bad or anything but, it isn’t exactly a place you would like to step into

Going up the stairs, you just saw a really TALL and attractive guy clearing out a few things in the booth. Your guess was that he was also probably new to this and whoever lent him the place didn’t exactly clean up the place.

With whatever courage you had in yourself

Or i guess how much sugar you consumed this morning cause you casually just walked it without contacting the guy

‘Uh... hello?’

HE JUMPED, whatever shit he was holding? Yeah it dropped

Which caused you to jump too, not expecting the huge ass pretty guy to have that big of a reaction

he looked over to you, surprised to see a person in the radio station because um,,, nobody ever goes there except for him

‘Hello to you too??? uhhh, not meaning to be rude or anything but, why are you here? Are you lost?’ He asks, looking extremely concerned

You just shook your head and deadass told him that there was a job offer for another radio show personality, and he looked eveN more concerned

Sorta like a ‘are u fucking serious’ face

‘Oh! Right. That job has been open for about a year now so I didn’t expect anyone to come at all...’

OHHhhHhh????????

Well,,,, i guess you have a better chance of getting the job?

‘Well.... do i get a higher chance of being accepted then for being the first to show up? You ask, unsure if whatever you said made sense, or was even socially acceptable

Imagine going to a job interview being like: ‘so i saw ur job offer, and since i actually showed up, I’m accepted right?’

Babe i dont think it works like that, but let’s continue

Johnny honestly had nothing to say against you though. You were right in a sense that you had no competition since you were the only one that actually came to apply. At the same time, he wanted the quality of the show to still be good even if there was a limited audience

‘Higher chance is indeed right. But tell me, uhh, what’s your name again?’

‘I actually never introduced myself, but it’s _______’

‘I’m Johnny by the way. So _______, why do you want to be a radio show host for Konkuk University?’

you had two ways to answer this question: (1) be blatantly honest that you really need the money, and talking to earn cash seems pretty great in your opinion or (2) repeat whatever the fuck sicheng has told you about the show

And of course, you were going with the first option

‘i honestly need the money because college is a bitch. And also talking and having discussions is a pretty fun and interesting method to get some cash in. Also because my roommate loves your show and why not ruin it for him by including me in it’

Babe

BABE SKDJKSDJKDSJKSDJSKDJKSDJ

Johnny actually wanted to accept you immediately. I mean for starters, he found you pretty adorable marching up to the radio station determined to get the job. And not only that, you were quite the talker, which is something that could spike up the show since it was just always johnny speaking

And also because he was feeling quite lonely but he would never admit that

‘Alright _____, meet me this friday to talk about next week’s segment’

OOFT

And let me tell you, tall boi’s assumptions were right. During your first show together, the two of you decided to talk about the book ‘1984’ by george orwell and although it may sound boring on a superficial level, yOU made it sound pretty interesting and johnny was actually just laughing the entire time

You and johnny just clicked in an instant, and your way of describing things made ‘Night Night’ known by the students

Nobody could ever forget your infamous line about the book: ‘george orwell’s sexual frustration is honestly so transparent in the book; all he needed was to get his dick wet then maybe he wouldn’t have let julia and winston be caught by the thoughtpolice.’

And things like this happened every wednesday. The pattern of your radio show just included you being you, and johnny trying to make shit be on track

The two of you were doing it for a very long time now, and back to toDAY where ya’ll have been doing it for two years, well... it would be a lie to say you hadn’t developed feelings for johnny

of course the man was beautiful and well-built. But his personality and laugh? Yeah sicheng should’ve warned you about that.

He is probably one of the most open-minded person in the world, and he knows a bit about everything, making him so well-rounded. And and and he’s to kind???

If you tell him that you can’t make it to the radio show, he says it’s okay and even gives you snacks the moment you come back and he just makes you so soft in general i—

Meanwhile for johnny, damn is he in love with you

Over the past 2 years, you definitely helped him open up more. With the way you speak along with your galaxy brain, he couldn’t help but fall for you? You were intelligent, you had your own mind, and being friendly and funny in general is something johnny really liked about you

The time when he realised he loves you was when you curled yourself up against the seat while you were discussing about what to talk about next week, and you just fell asleep. He noticed how soft and peaceful you looked, and that he would want to see you like this on a daily basis

Shit this is getting me all soft i wasnt planning on this nsndnsndnd

So yeaHHHHH this week’s segment, you guys were talking about the spanish conquest of mexico and peru woohoooo

AND you were very excited for this because this was one of your (my) favourite topics you learnt during your time in high school

‘OKAY, good evening everyone I am ______D,’

‘And I am JohnD, and welcome to’

‘Night Night. Oof, we’re getting better at our introductions aren’t we JohnD?’

‘Nope, you just learned how to say it without cringing’

‘Touché’ and ya’ll began your discussion. And things actually got pretty interesting.

‘So _____ you’re telling me that it was Cortes’ leadership that allowed the Spanish to successfully take over Mexico?’ He asks you in disbelief.

‘No you tall dumbfuck, it’s one of the attributes that led them to succeed. Both Cortes and Pizarro had disease on their side and better weapons, so of course they’d win. I just wanted to include leadership as i don’t know, to see the defeat of the aztecs from a new lens?’ You respond, deadass looking at johnny in the eye

‘Well, i don’t think i can argue with that, mainly because i am too scared too. That is it for today, but before we end this, i would like to add one more thing.’ Johnny says, which took you by surprise

huHhh?

You looked confused, in fact, you were confused.

What the fuck was going on?

‘This academic year is ending, and this so happens to be my last year here at Konkuk University...’

Oh shit

Your eyes softened at his words, just realising now that johnny was two years older than you, and yeah, he’s graduating this year

‘... this year has honestly been one of the greatest years here at Konkuk, but for me, I think of my my most memorable memories here was when ______D entered the station and giving me a huge fright’

You laughed a little, remembering how much you scared the man

‘Taking this opportunity, ______D, I want to ask you something’

Shit

BRUHHHHHHHHH

‘I just want to congratulate you and thank you for joining “Night Night.” You made the show livelier and massively increased the viewer rate with that big brain of yours—‘

‘I prefer the term galaxy brain’

‘—yes, galaxy brain. I hope that you can continue this radio show, and maybe recruit someone else while i’m out in the world of disgusting adults. So yes, thank you ______. And because we won’t be colleagues in a bit, will you be my girl/boyfriend?’

You were initially teary eyed, buT yEET those tears out biTCH what????

You wanted to say yes, bUt how?????

Do you just nod at him and go ‘ye,’ or do you like, confess?

You felt weird in the stomach. Not that you can exactly do 459343948 cartwheels in one go, but that’s exactly what your stomach was doing. If you were to speak, you could have vomited.

Idk what happened to you, but you took off your headphones, and went to the tall boy and just hugged the shit out of him cause umm,,,, SAME????

And johnny wasn’t sure what that exactly meant so he just hugged you back, bringing you to his lap and holding you tight against him cause honestly, when will he be able to do this to a person he genuinely loves

There was a moment of silence of you two just holding each other, until you realised you were still live with lord knows how many people were listening.

‘U-um, yeah Johnny, I w-will gladly be yours—‘

‘_____ I love you’

OKAY RETRIEVE THOSE TEARS BISH YOU CRYING NOW TF

You sorta just placed your head on the crook of his neck, quietly whispering to him

‘I can’t believe I love your tall ass too...’

‘SHE SAID SHE LOVES ME TOO!’

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dawniebb · 4 years

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Thoughts about Renegades

ALRIGHT FOLKS, TAKE A SEAT BC I’M ABOUT TO KICK MYSELF OUT OF THIS FANDOM :’)

Not really

But I’m going to rant for a while so perhaps you can go grab a snack or something :’)

So…I LOVE Renegades and I always will but I’ve been thinking about some of the things that seem…off to me. Not that they’re a big deal ofc (because I love Renegades in a really dumb and blind way) but some of them are quite unpopular opinions among the fandom, so I’m finally going to share them in case someone out there feels the same way X’DDDDD

They’re not in any particular order. Here we go:

- I completely stan the idea of Nova and Oscar and Nova and Callum being brotp material, but I stan Nova and Callum way more, not because I don’t like Nova and Oscar, but because I think it was genuinely good (and healthy) for Nova to have a friend out of Adrian’s circle. I mean, she’s been isolated most of her life now, and when I realized she finally had someone of her own… like, a person she met with whom she connected without Adrian introducing them to her, was a HUGE step. Callum is one of my favorite characters in the whole series, and when the t h i n g happened I was devastated for MYSELF *sobs* but also because MM took him away from Nova. She opened to him more than she ever opened to Oscar throughout the three books. Sorry not sorry :’).

- AS A YOUNG ADULT (I’LL BE 20 IN MAY, YOU GUYS) let me tell you that all these dumbasses act like completely normal teenagers and all their shitty decisions sound like something I would’ve done when I was their age. Actually, the Team Sketch really reminds me of my own circle of friends. I’ve seen you guys complain about Adrian acting extremely dumb for his age but GUYS HE’S FUCKING 17. WHEN I WAS 17 I WAS AS CLUELESS AS HIM. ALL MY FRIENDS WERE. AND IT WAS SO STUPID IT HURT BUT SHIT BE LIKE THAT SOMETIMES. I was the Nova among them. That is: I joined their group hella late and one of the guys became my crush. I was so dumb I told him he was my crush when I was defeated on the floor with a dislocated knee because I was having a breakdown and I legit thought I was D Y I N G. Teenagers.Are.Like.That.

- HOWEVER, EVEN IF I JUST SAID ALL OF THAT….And I want to believe all of you agree with me: I don’t justify Oscar. It’s okay being a dumb teenager, but you can’t just ask your crush to be your girlfriend during a PUBLIC EXECUTION. That wasn’t romantic. At all. If I were Ruby I would’ve been really offended, no joke. (AT LEAST WHEN I TOLD *MY* CRUSH WHILE I THOUGHT MY LEG WAS GOING TO BE AMPUTATED, WE WERE IN CHORUS CLASS. ALL THE GUYS WERE SINGING TO ME BC THEY THOUGHT THAT WOULD CALM ME DOWN. IT WAS A GROSS AND ODDLY SWEET MOMENT, YOU KNOW?).

- I feel like Ruby is…I’m not going to say mistreated, but…Idk. I feel like she’s trying her best and she’s kind to everyone in the group and in some parts of the books they just…forget about her :’). (This may be Marissa’s fault, though). Which makes me really sad, because she’s genuinely sweet and I felt like she was the most welcoming to Nova since the very beginning (Apart from Adrian, of course).

- I’m part of the “Leroy switched sides at some point” squad, but at the same time I believe he’s just very, VERY chaotic neutral and (I’m never giving up on this) since he loved Nova, he would just stick to the side where they promised to keep her safe, even if that meant being jumping back and forth between the Renegades and the Anarchists.

- I ALSO BELIEVE WINSTON MAH BOI SAW A LOT OF HIMSELF IN NOVA. To my particular point of view, his mental state was the most stable when she moved with them. He unconsciously tried to stop her from becoming what he’d become and the Anarchists realized that, so when they found Ace’s little human weapon being threatened, they just teared her away from Winston, which caused his mental health to go downhill again until he ended up all psychotic (which is how we got to meet him during Renegades).

- Honey had way more complicated issues than just being “evil”. Yes. She’s dead. And me defending her won’t make her less dead. And I know she got what she deserved because she was…completely out of control and Marissa tends to kill those who are too far gone (take Levana as an example). But I think that if she hadn’t neglected her own mental health so much she would’ve had a chance; Honey had good in her :’) maybe, before meeting Ace, she was a different person. Like, it’s mentioned she grew up in a small farm. I think she fell in love with him at some point and, by the way he talks to her sometimes, I’m *almost* sure he knew that, so he tried to take advantage of the situation to keep her in line, even though he had no intention to reciprocate her feelings. Sure, Honey is a manipulative brat, but she’s a hundred times worse when she knows Ace is around or when she knows she has a chance to get him back (she goes batshit crazy in the cathedral, you know?). Ace was a power-hungry sociopath/psychopath and she was a depressed, also power-hungry woman who was in love with him. And that’s a BAD combination. Honey Harper was hopeless… and I think she even showed some signs of Stockholm Syndrome.

- Still, Honey and Nova’s relationship reminds me a lot of my relationship with my dad. Theirs was a toxic relationship, but since I’ve been through that (still going through that), I refuse to believe it will be easy for Nova to overcome her death *that* easily. They loved each other in a…violent, weird way, but Honey was Nova’s mother more than Tala ever got the chance to be (because Ace took that opportunity away from her) and if Honey hadn’t been so –like I mentioned before- hopeless, they could’ve fixed their relationship until it was normal and healthy, because Honey showed signs of loving Nova, and Nova showed signs of loving her.

- Every death in Supernova had a very specific narrative purpose but, even if I hate Evander as much as y’all do, I think his death was done for the sake of the shock factor afgshja like, he died in such a sudden, meaningless way :’).

- Tamaya is nothing but wasted potential. You have a savage, feral, badass woman with w i n g s and the only thing she does is getting her fucking face burned and throwing fists with entitled teenagers.

- I LIVE for Simon and Hugh as couple, but (gosh, saying this makes me feel really guilty) the fact that they didn’t share not even ONE kiss throughout the trilogy made me feel really queerbaited :’). Same thing happened with Danna and Narcissa, but I think that was PLAIN half-assed.

-Why doesn’t Adrian has Simon’s last name as well? :’)

- ADRIAN NEEDS THERAPY AS MUCH AS NOVA DOES. LET’S BREAK THIS DOWN, HERE WE GO:

*So, we know that Marissa Meyer’s male characters are always really sweet and kind and wholesome and omg :’)…and then there’s fucking Jacin (whom I love, but that doesn’t minimize the fact he shall burn in hell X’DDDD) . I mean, he’s kind…to Winter and Winter only…and Cress…sometimes. When it comes to Winter, he’s capable of a lot, A LOT of things. He comes off as rude many times (especially to Cinder, during Cress) and…yeah. He looks like he could kill you and he could ACTUALLY kill you; I feel like the fandom moves Adrian to …whatever category Kai’s in….but I’m not sure that’s the case. Let’s analyze Cinder’s equivalent to Nova’s bracelet: Peony’s chip; Kai was mad at Cinder, FUCKING mad. But once he kinda figured out Cinder was grieving his sister and keeping the only thing she had left from her for emotional reasons, he didn’t, under any circumstance, no matter how much he hated Cinder at the moment, want that chip to be taken away from her. Kai had lost his father. He KNEW what it felt like and he didn’t want anyone to feel the same way, because he SAW Cinder suffer her little sister’s death. Adrian had lost his mother and he knew Nova had lost both her mother and her father AND her little sister; she had opened up enough to tell him that bracelet was the only thing she had left from her father…and when he learned Nova was Nightmare, instead of interrogating her, taking a sample of her blood or things like that, he straight took her bracelet. Because Adrian was hurt and he wanted her to be hurt too, so he took away the one thing that mattered the most to her and THAT WASN’T VERY KAI OF HIM IF YOU ASK ME. My point is, sadly: Adrian is ABSOLUTELY traumatized due to his mother’s death (who wouldn’t?) and now that he knows he indirectly killed her he will only get WORSE. He hated Nova for being Nightmare just because he thought she had something to do with Georgia’s death, so when things went to shit, he did her in the dirtiest way he could, making her feel hated and unwanted, which were Nova’s delicate spots afgshja…like, Adrian’s capable of a lot of things(just like Jacin). He NEEDS therapy. Now.

- The heated kiss scene during Archenemies is both heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time (besides…you know, heated). Nova’s so touch-starved she gets overwhelmed when Adrian suddenly gives her all the physical affection she didn’t have during her childhood. And…I feel it was a very intimate moment between both of them, because they were physically and emotionally invested and omg. This only makes my previous point (about the bracelet) more horrible, because I can’t imagine how she must’ve felt when he took away her bracelet with so.much.hatred.

-WE DESERVED TO KNOW THE CHANGES THAT WERE MADE TO THE SYSTEM BC TBH THE RENEGADES SYSTEM WAS SHITTY AF… It’s like…they claimed to be against what the Anarchists did but then suddenly they were doing the same things themselves. And I don’t think that’s fair. The Renegades acted as messed up as the Anarchists during Supernova. They wanted to EXECUTE a MINOR who committed MINOR CRIMES. I mean, what did Nightmare even do? Right, she tried to assassinate Hugh but she FAILED, and she neutralized Team Frostbite in SELF-DEFENSE and in Max’s defense.

- Besides, the way Anarchists were treated was...really inhuman. As far as I understand, they didn’t have access to public services or anything like that. What if they needed meds? Where did they get their food from? Did they have, like, fucking running water? Electricity? There are also three women among them and they get *periods*, people, and *period stuff* is expensive as fuck. Like, did they have to steal tampons? And if they did…were they chased because of it? Even though they had no way to get income in a legal way because they were Anarchists and being out there like normal people was against the rules for them? Lol?

- JESUS THAT SYSTEM REALLY NEEDED TO BE CHANGED LMAO AFGSHJA

-Also, Cragmoor? Wtf.

- AND, LAST BUT NOT LEAST, NOT BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO SAY BUT BECAUSE THIS IS TOO LONG ALREADY: It think Nova and Evie have been apart for too long and it’s going to be hard for them to create a bond. They’ll have to get used to it, because it’s going to be confusing for Nova and, given the fact Evie’s personality is…like that, I think she’ll go as far to blame Nova like “But you were SUPPOSED to look for me.”

I rest my case.

#salty lmao #renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #nova artino #nightmare #adrian everhart #the sentinel #sketch #honey harper #leroy flinn #winston pratt #alec artino #hugh everhart #simon westwood #mostly unpopular opinions

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tomeandflickcorner · 3 years

Text

Episode Review- The Real Ghostbusters: The Ghostbusters in Paris

So, I had mixed feeling about this episode. It had a suitable plot with some rather creepy moments thrown in. But the resolution seemed a bit head scratching to me.

The episode actually begins in Paris, France. If seeing the Eiffel Tower didn’t tip you off, then the over-the-top French accents coming out of the three workmen will. One of the workmen starts complaining that it’s too hot to continue working and, since it’s now 2 o’clock, he’s thinking about taking a nap. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t France operate on a 24-hour clock? So they’d actually say 14 hours instead of 2 o’clock. Anyway, one of the other workmen points out that there isn’t any place on that level of the Eiffel Tower for them to sleep. The tired workman announces that he plans to go into the Pavilion in order to take his nap, despite his coworkers reminding him that the room in question was the former workshop of Gustave Eiffel (whom the episode refers to as Monsieur Eiffel) and that entry was forbidden. Regardless, the tired workman forces his way inside the Pavilion to take his nap, and his two coworkers follow close behind. To their surprise, the workshop is filled with strange looking machines that appear to still be operating, despite the fact that years and years have gone by. (Keep in mind that Gustave Eiffel died in 1923 and this episode takes place in the mid-1980s.) The tired workman, however, basically shrugs his shoulders and walks further into the workshop, intending to get some rest on one of the cushy-looking armchairs. But then, for whatever reason, he reaches up to the mantle place, which results in him accidently knocking over a mantel clock. The mantel clock falls directly onto a control panel box that was lying on a nearby table, resulting in the glowing light bulbs affixed to it shattering. Immediately, the entire Eiffel Tower starts to shake, which greatly concerns the other two workmen. The tired workman, on the other hand, seems to brush the whole thing off. Instead, he announces that he’ll simply replace the broken light bulbs tomorrow and nobody will ever know. He then suggests that they head home for the day. (So, these workmen can just clock out whenever they want?)

Of course, strange things start to happen right away. On a lower level of the Eiffel Tower, some American tourists, who were apparently supposed to be ‘the 1986 version of Lucy and Ricky Ricardo’ spot a man in period clothing (Belle Epoque-style, for the historical fashion nerds out there) and approach him to ask if he’d mind posing for a photo. The man turns to them and reveals himself to be a ghost when his face melts off (which is where the episode gets creepy.) Elsewhere, another tourist is spouting off some historical facts when he is scared by a skeletal ghost in a French Revolution uniform. And the three workmen, upon boarding the elevator, discover that the usual elevator operator has also been replaced by a ghost with very large teeth. (Disturbingly, we briefly see the usual elevator operator has been shrunk down and is inside this ghost’s mouth. Are we supposed to assume that poor guy ended up getting eaten?)

It then cuts back to the Firehouse. There, the Ghostbusters are being visited by a man named Lucien, who is a Parisian government official. He apparently flew all the way from France to ask for their help in regards to the Eiffel Tower being haunted. (One has to ask why he didn’t simply call them. Were international phone calls more expensive than transatlantic flights in the 80s?) At first, Ray seemed hesitant to take the time to travel to Paris, stating he still had to install their new satellite dish. Because Ray seemed to think there was nothing more important than television. A bit out of character for him considering he’s usually the most eager to help people in need. Still, Peter and Egon are able to talk him into agreeing. (Egon thought it could be beneficial to study ghosts from another country and Peter was all about the potential monetary profit of having a foreign country in their debt.) Soon after, the Ghostbusters fly out to Paris, with Lucien announcing that, as guests to their country, they will be placed in the finest hotel in Paris.

When the Ghostbusters’ plane lands in Paris, we get a brief montage of the Ghostbusters taking the time to do some sightseeing, as well as dine at some French cafes and restaurants. After two days of this, Lucien finally questions the Ghostbusters about why they haven’t even bothered to head over to the Eiffel Tower yet. In response, Peter tells him that they had simply been doing some reconnaissance. Personally, I’m not sure how I feel about this. Sure, I understand why the Ghostbusters would want to make the most of this impromptu trip to Paris, one of the most famous cities in the world. Especially since they might not get another chance like this. At the same time, they are pretty much taking advantage of the generosity of Lucien and the Parisian government. They do eventually make it to the Eiffel Tower, though. Shortly after their arrival, Lucien tells them that, because of the situation, the power to the Eiffel Tower had been shut off, so they won’t be able to use the elevator. Which means they’ll have to use the stairs. Peter doesn’t seem to be happy about this, particularly when Ray announces that the guide book states the Eiffel Tower has 1710 steps. So the Ghostbusters have a long climb ahead of them. But first, they get treated to an entire band playing the French national anthem. I guess the people of Paris did this to wish them luck or something.

When that’s over, the Ghostbusters begin their trek to the top of the Eiffel Tower. And Peter begins complaining over the matter, wondering why they couldn’t just switch on the power long enough for them to use the elevator. Egon reminds him that it’s basic emergency procedure to avoid elevators when there are ectoplasmic emanations. He then states he’s concerned over how the PKE Meter isn’t picking up anything, which is unusual. Unnoticed by everyone, footprints suddenly appear on the steps behind them. The footprints quickly begin releasing this weird purple foam which shifts into a horde of ghostly creatures. Eventually, Peter does notice them. But it turns out there’s another small army of ghosts waiting for the Ghostbusters ahead of them as well. So their path is blocked both ways. Their only chance of eluding the ghosts is by taking the elevator, which is nearby. So Egon pulls out a walkie-talkie to radio Lucian in order to get the people below to switch the power back on. (Well, so much for the basic emergency procedure.)

Still, to get to the elevator, they have to force their way through the line of ghosts. Winston and Peter start firing at the ghosts ahead of them while Egon and Ray aim for the ghosts coming up behind. As they continue firing, Egon and Ray notice their Proton Streams were seemingly being absorbed by the Eiffel Tower’s girders. This leads to them developing a theory, but they don’t have time to discuss it at the moment as they have to hurry to join Peter and Winston in the elevator. However, even though they all make it safely into the elevator and begin the assent to the upper floors, they’re not quite in the clear. Because even more ghosts are attacking the elevator’s switchboard. Winston announces that someone will have to go up and stop the ghosts from disabling the elevator, and it briefly looks as if Peter will be forced to volunteer. Fortunately for the visibly nervous Peter, Winston ends up volunteering. And in the same breath, he reveals that, before applying and joining the Ghostbusters, he’d worked as a construction worker. Which is an interesting bit of backstory for him, especially since we get so little of Winston’s personal history. So Winston climbs up to the top of the elevator to ward off the ghosts attacking the switchboard. As the elevator continued to make its way to the top floor, Egon announces he has an idea. He suggests reversing the polarity on their Proton Packs and firing at the tower itself. Ray voiced his approval of this idea, but stated that if they’re wrong, something bad would happen. Although, he doesn’t clarify what this meant.

Thankfully, it doesn’t matter as Egon’s plan works. And when they fire at the Eiffel Tower’s girders, all the ghosts are suddenly absorbed into the tower. Of course, Ray announces that this is only a temporary measure and it’ll only give them enough time to reach the top of the Eiffel Tower. There, they enter the Pavilion to look around Gustave Eiffel’s workshop. Egon quickly locates Gustave Eiffel’s journal inside a drawer. After looking at it, as well as the damaged control panel box, Egon concludes his earlier theory was correct. He tells the other Ghostbusters, who are busy holding the door closed while the ghosts try to break in, that Gustave Eiffel must have developed the principles of modern ectoplasmic entrapment back in the 1880s. And that the Eiffel Tower is actually a primitive Containment Unit. But when the control panel box was damaged, the Eiffel Tower became psionically porous, allowing the more aggressive ghosts to escape. And of course, they have a time limit to repair the damage. Because in 12 hours, the molecular degeneration would be irreversible, and millions more ghosts would escape their containment. But first thing is first. Before they can get to work in fixing the control panel box, they have to find a way to get rid of the ghosts that have them essentially trapped in Gustave Eiffel’s workshop. So Egon affixes his Proton Pack to the broken panel box, in order to draw all the loose ghosts back into the tower. Although, he makes it clear that this is only a temporary solution, as the Proton Pack’s power cells won’t last forever.

The Ghostbusters reconvene with Lucien, telling him that, in order to properly fix the control panel box, they’ll need to see more of Gustave Eiffel’s notes. Lucien states that they already have all of his notes, but an older Parisian government official basically says ‘that’s not entirely accurate.’ There are actually two other locations in Paris where Gustave Eiffel’s papers were stored. In the hopes that they’ll find something useful in those additional papers, the Ghostbusters split up to locate them while Egon stays behind to try and make sense of how the control box works.

So Ray heads out to the Louvre. By the time he arrives, though, it’s past nightfall. And he briefly bemoans how he wishes he had time to see the Mona Lisa. (Eh, you’re not missing much, Ray. I hear the Mona Lisa is overrated.) Some museum security guards meet him at the door and escort him inside. But as they make their way to where the second Eiffel Journal is being kept, they pass by the wing that holds the museum’s Egyptian artifacts. And Ray and the security guards are suddenly attacked by possessed statues of Anubis and Horus. Because three of the escaped ghosts must have followed Ray with the intent to stop him. Two of the ghosts possessed the statures of the Egyptian gods while the third ghost took control of a mummy, which also attacks. Ray, while he takes a few seconds to relish in how exciting he’s finding this, makes quick work of the possessed statues by firing his Proton Pack at them, which results in the statues and the mummy blowing up. (Well, so much for the priceless artifacts!) Meanwhile, Winston makes his way to Notre Dame, because it seems that the third Eiffel journal was among the valuable papers that were donated to the church. Like Ray, Winston also has to deal with an obstacle, as two more escaped ghosts have possessed a pair of Notre Dame Gargoyles. One of the possessed gargoyles manages to snatch up the Eiffel Journal and tries to make off with it, but Winston gives chase by following it onto the roof of the cathedral. For a moment, this almost ends in tragedy as the gargoyle catches Winston by surprise and nearly throws him off the roof. But Winston narrowly escapes death by blasting the gargoyle holding him and grabbing hold of something before he fell. (And they didn’t make one Hunchback of Notre Dame joke. Can’t decide if that’s disappointing or impressive.)

You might have noticed that Peter wasn’t involved in the search. Don’t ask me where he got to while Ray and Winston were off on their individual side quests, because it’s never explained. Although, there was apparently a scene that was left out of the final draft. This scene would have had Peter locating a fourth Eiffel Journal in Montmartre, a district north of Paris. (Yes, this is where the Moulin Rouge was located). There, Peter would encounter a shapeshifting ghost woman and an animated garbage can. As to why they left this scene out, I cannot say. Maybe they would have gone over their allotted time if they’d included that additional scene.

So, with all the Eiffel journals collected, Egon is able to figure out how to recreate the original control panel box. But by the time workmen were finishing up connecting auxiliary power lines from the Eiffel Tower’s generator to the new electronic console, the sun was coming up, meaning they were running out of time. But this is where it gets weird. Just as Egon was about to connect the new control panel box to the console, the ghosts manage to conjure up a ghostly guillotine, which destroys the device. And there’s clearly no time for them to make a new one. Just as Lucien and the over government officials who were watching are starting to panic, Ray suddenly gets a stroke of inspiration. After confirming with Lucian that the Eiffel Tower has one of the most powerful broadcasting antennas in France and making a phone call to Janie at the Firehouse to confirm if the men he’d hired to install his new satellite dish were finished, Ray manages to beam all the ghosts inside the Eiffel Tower over to the Firehourse’s satellite dish, where they were instantly transported into the Containment Unit back home.

Yeah, this is where the episode lost me. That solution seemed to be a bit deus ex machina in nature, and was completely out of left field. Admittedly, I don’t know much in terms of things like physics, energy conversion and the like, but can someone please explain the science of this to me?

Anyway, the ghosts are all put away in the Ghostbusters’ Containment Unit, thereby alleviating the danger of the Eiffel Tower exploding and releasing hordes of ghosts onto the streets of Paris. But there are still some consequences. Because of the transfer, a whole bunch of people in New York had their programs being interrupted by broadcasts of angry French ghosts for five hours. And the Ghostbusters had to turn over all the money they got from the Parisian government to the cable company in order to pay off the irate customers. Peter reluctantly accepts this and decides to test out the new satellite dish, hoping that he’ll find a Bogart movie or something equally as good to watch with all the new channels they got. But even that leads to disappointment as they only ended up with a whole mess of sports channels.

The strange solution to the problem at hand aside, I did enjoy this episode. It was nice to see the Ghostbusters in a different location. And the idea of giving that purpose to the Eiffel Tower was interesting. At the same time, I am somewhat curious how this episode was received by actual French audiences. While I didn’t notice anything particularly insulting towards France and their culture, I’m not from there myself, so I can’t properly judge how they would view this.

(Click here for more Ghostbusters reviews)

#the real ghostbusters #rgb episode review #ghostbusters franchise

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essaysbyciara · 4 years

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Thy Neighbor II: Lovin’ The Crew [Chapters 19 + 20]

[Prologue] [Chapters 1 + 2] [Chapters 3 + 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapters 7 + 8] [Chapters 9 + 10] [Chapters 11 + 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapters 14 + 15][Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18]

Warnings: Language, smut thoughts

The madness continues...

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Y'lan's favorite spot inside of this lavish AirBnB just blocks away from Center City is the outdoor patio. Full of lush bushes peppered with flowers of multiple hues and a large table long enough to fit more than twelve disciples, it's job as the bar is doing the trick. The table is way more than a wet bar, stacked with every type of whisky, gin and tequila known to man. It's also the grandest medicine cabinet Y'lan could have in hopes to soothe his raging emotions toward Trevante.

Y'lan always knew Trevante to be a loose cannon when it came to women. He heard some of the stories straight from the horse's mouth, the worst of them coming from both Michael and Yahya, his best friends. But what he's been hearing from -- and about -- Trevante during the early hours of this pre-bachelor party has him on edge.

Trevante just spoke of "sexing down some chick" just weeks ago, describing her as "super thick, nerdy bitch, tight pussy, all that." Y'lan would only know of Ciara's shape, need to wear glasses and disposition toward learning new things. He never got the chance to see if he'd get stuck inside of her love. However, hearing Trevante talked about Ciara -- or who he imagines to be, at least -- this type of way disturbs him beyond belief. The same girl that Trevante spoke of "ending his playboy ways" with is being talked about in a room full of immature frat boys as just another "fuck", as Stephan just called her. A label that Trevante didn't correct but rather laughed at.

Maybe Trevante just wants to impress his friends or he is trying to keep up appearances. Either way, Y'lan wasn't having it. A shot of top shelf whisky is to keep his mind on other things.

"Yo, bro ... we got all night, man." Trevante catches Y'lan just as he pours his next shot. He saw him pour his first two drinks, watching him out on the porch as the rest of his friends cracked jokes and delved in laughter around him. Trevante didn't want to talk about Ciara in this way. She wasn't a "fuck"; she was his girlfriend. While he loves her body, makes her keep her glasses on during sex as a fetish thing and puts her at the top of his "best sex ever" list, he didn't mean to make their love life his boys' business. Trevante reverts to number-eight-on-his-SPR07 line when he's around the fellas. He's grown since then, he thought. But once he saw Y'lan leave the room, he knew he messed up.

Quiet as it's kept, Y'lan is who Trevante wants to be. He admires Y'lan's drive to live life for something greater than himself, volunteering and giving his life to the church. Trevante wasn't a religious person but he would pay attention to how Y'lan would talk about how God helped him get his act together from a life of doing dirt, Ciara catching most of those stains. He felt Y'lan's "stand up" energy and wanted a part. Him checking in on Y'lan is in his way of trying to be better -- and hoping that he didn't turn off the person he hopes can turn into his best friend.

He pours himself a shot as well. "Y'lan, you cool?"

"Yeah. Just a lot going on in there, man. That's all."

"If you're not feeling this, we can always dip out. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or anything. This really ain't for us anyway. "

Y'lan is taken aback by Trevante's invitation to leave. In one way, he's glad that his friend is aware of what may or may not be a place that he would want to be. On the flipside, he's hurt that his friend is responsible for making him feel uncomfortable in the first place. "Nah, man. I'm good. It's just for today. The wilderness lasted forty days. I'll be solid." Y'lan knocks down another shot. "Let's head out to the day party spot. I'll be cool. I just need to breathe a bit."

---

"I feel like I can breathe up here..." Ciara marvels at the orange, auburn and marigold-hued leaves that fall around her and Winston as they wind around a somewhat busy trailway on a Saturday morning. They make sure to make room for the bicyclists and runners with their strollers as they walk the twisted pathway through trees and rotting cabins. "This reminds me of back home."

"Where's back home for you?"

"Suburban Maryland, toward the mountains. We were like the only Black family there but it was a beautiful place to grow up. What about you, Winston? You've been in New York all of your life?"

"Ehh, it's a long story."

"I got time..."

CHAPTER TWENTY

Raised by a preacher father and a stay-at-home mother who were both full-on fire-and-brimstone, barring secular music and television inside of their house, Winston and his sister, in church six times a week and twice on Sundays, were forbidden to go on class trips or to sleepovers. Feeling trapped, Winston started hanging out with all of the "'Rican and Dominican" kids from the neighborhood. There he met his best friend, Ronald.

Built like a NFL player by tenth grade, Ronald scared everyone except Winston, big and bad just like he was. As much as Winston's parents didn't like his new crew, they knew Ronald's mother from church so they lessened their grip. The two became inseparable, Winston spending weekends at Ronald's house during the summer. He got to watch BET and play XBox for all hours of the day, this little ounce of freedom in a world full of restrictions.

But then one day, he couldn't go over Ronald's house anymore and Winston's dad wouldn't tell him why. Winston would hang outside with Ronald but then his mother would drag him into the house. "I better not catch you hanging out with that boy..." is all his mother could say. Nothing made sense until it did. Ronald's mother found a note written for Winston. Inside were Ronald's feelings for him, feelings that his mother felt "were for girls..."

"So that's why you're writing about the persecution of sexuality in the early Church, then? Makes sense." Ciara exhales from hearing Winston's story. It was a lot to take in but Winston felt comfortable enough to tell her about it.

"Yeah. I'm passionate about why we do what we do, you know? There's a root to everything. But I didn't mean to make this all sad and stuff, I'm sorry..." Winston laughs to break up his somber tone. Ciara finds it nice to break up her life with some God talk. Outside of school, she doesn't get much of it. She definitely doesn't get it with Trevante.

"No, you're good! I appreciate it. It kinda reinvigorated me to get back to working on my paper, actually. I don't get to have these conversations with other students often because of work and like, all my close people aren't in the church like that, so..."

"I'm always down for meeting over coffee whenever you're free, if you need to keep fleshing things out."

"Man, Winston. I would love that so much..." Ciara pauses to take a look at Winston before he gives a response. His smile says enough.

"We should be getting you back though, I know your girls are probably looking for you..."

"They ain't even thinking about me. They in that house knocking down mimosas like it's a job." Winston and Ciara both laugh as they turn around on the trailway. The closer they get to the house, the louder the sounds of Jodeci are coming from their AirBnB.

I've been watchin' you for so very long tryin' to get my nerve built up to be so strong/ I really want to meet you but I'm kinda scared/ 'cuz you're the kind of lady with so much class...

The crowd at this day party is way too young to know anything about Jodeci. Most of them weren't born when K-Ci, JoJo, Dalvin and DeVante were killin' the streets. But Trevante, Y'lan, Stephan, Michael and the boys make the most of it. And the worst...

"Yo, Stephan is a damn savage," Michael says as he watches his friend's married frat brother flirt with another girl that looks just a shade over 21. Y'lan's been waiting and watching Stephan all night, calling him a "fuck nigga" under his tequila-laced breath. The girl's look of discomfort is clear to everybody else but Stephan.

It's even more clear to Trevante. Stephan wasn't just drunkenly flirting with some random. He grabs the girl's hand and takes her to their VIP section.

"Yo, yo... this is Meganne. She's a Lambda. Ain't think they were still out here looking this fine, shit." Meganne gently smiles to hide her embarrassment. She spotted Trevante and his crew some time ago as she and her girls grooved to another Ma$e song that they were too young to know. After Trevante told her to cool it for the sake of his relationship, she didn't walk by his office like she would always do, hoping to catch his attention.

After talking to her prophytes, she realized that Trevante was in the wrong for how he treated her. She felt strung along, feeling as if Trevante had this "girlfriend" for as long as he was taking her home from work and to lunch everyday. He would be her first "fuck nigga". Too bad he had to be so damn fine.

So as she sits down, she tries not to catch eyes with Trevante. Trevante is staring holes into her and Y'lan notices. He then remembers running into a girl that looked just like Meganne trying to hold back tears as she ran out of his office. Y'lan puts what he thinks is two and two together. He had enough. His fingers -- and the liquor -- went to work.

I ain't trying to win you back, Ciara. So that's not my move. You just need to know how trash this dude is. You deserve better, straight up.

Taglist: @doublesidedscoobysnacks @diva-princess-on-fleek @voyagetoadinas9 @walkrightuptothesun @wvsspoppin @dreamlovealways @rockwit609 @thegayaxeman @joyfulwombatdreamermaker @blackpinup22 @hookedtoherfire @kris-did-it @l-auteuse @styleismyaddiction

#trevante rhodes x fanfiction #trevante rhodes #y'lan noel #winston duke #thy neighbor

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nelllraiser · 4 years

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teardrops on my guitar(m) | leah & nell

TIMING: shortly after and then you’re free (escape from the ring) LOCATION: nell’s greenhouse. PARTIES: @nelllraiser and @phoenixleah SUMMARY: leah helps heal nell’s arms, and gets some veggies in return. taki gets to see his cat crush.

To be honest, Nell had been in dire need of some burgers from Al’s, and Leah was always good company for a trip such as that. After breaking loose from the Ring with Remmy, she’d been eating more than perhaps seemed humanly possible after going hungry for an entire week. Now that her stomach was full, she was walking Leah towards her greenhouse behind the Vural place, figuring it was as good a place as any to do this. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Nell asked again, not wanting to take advantage of Leah and her tear’s healing abilities. “I still feel sort of bad that all I got you for something like this was lunch.” Nell knew that phoenix tears went for obscene amounts of money on the supernatural market, and she still wanted to make sure that everything was still alright with Bea’s friend. Opening the door to the greenhouse, Nell circumvented around the mattress that was still in the center of it, leftover from when Bea had been dead, and Nell hadn’t felt right sleeping in the house. To be honest...she still used it when Bea wasn’t home, the house seeming too quiet to be alone in it, as if her sister were still gone. “Alright, here we are,” she said before stopping some twenty feet in, surrounded by greenery.

Leah would never turn down a good burger, so stopping at Al’s with Nell before giving her what she needed was never not an option in her mind. She was worried about the youngest Vural, if she were being honest. After everything that had happened with all of them- after what happened with Bea, she still felt a certain ache and anxiety around the Vurals, like she couldn’t do enough to help. She didn’t know exactly what happened that got Nell involved in an underground fight ring, and for once she had no desire to know anymore about something that was clearly supernatural. Maybe she was doing a disservice to herself and the Scribes, but she was worried she’d find out something she didn’t like about the ring- and if Nell were involved in something like that- well, … It was easier to just not ask questions. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder as she followed Nell, not remembering the last time she’d been back there. “Really. I’m really more than okay with it. I wouldn’t feel right taking money, not from you.” She probably wouldn’t feel right taking it from anyone, but then she wouldn’t have offered tears to just anyone, either. “I know you’ll keep it quiet- people don’t need to know where you got these from, right? ...and that’s really all I can ask, honestly.” Her eyes fell to the mattress in the center, and that pang of worry was back in a flash. How could she have been so distant and selfish when Bea died to not even reach out to Nell and Luce? “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here. It’s..beautiful. Are you… in here a lot?”, she asked vaguely.

Nell nodded at Leah’s answer, having wanted to confirm one last time that this was all in line with her sister’s friend. Though she figured...it wouldn’t be blasphemy is she also counted Leah amongst her own friends. Certainly they weren’t as close, but it was safe to say she always enjoyed the other girl’s company. “Alright then, deal. Thank you again, Leah.” As for not spreading the news of the tears, Nell didn’t hesitate to reassure the phoenix. “Oh no, of course. I won’t be telling anyone where they came from. I know how...people like you can often be targeted. And I have no interest in putting you in danger.” If anyone tried to hurt Leah, Nell wouldn’t hesitate to make them regret, and she knew Bea was of a very similar mind. “Really? I guess that makes sense. I’m pretty...protective of the greenhouse. I don’t usually like people going into it without me. Of course, sometimes Bea gets to come in if she needs vegetables for dinner sometimes or something.” It was still strange at times, readjusting to Bea being back and mentioning her in everyday conversation as if she’d neve died in the first place. “I mean- I spend a lot of time here. It’s...peaceful, you know?” It was basically Nell’s retreat at this point, a safe space to be away from all the noise of the outside world. “I’m glad you like it, though. Maybe you could take come clippings with you if you won’t accept payment.”

With a smile, Leah dismissed Nell’s thankfulness. She never quite knew how to react to gratefulness, especially when she knew in her heart something was the right thing to do. She didn’t have to question whether she’d give the tears to Nell, or whether to bring extra for the other Vurals. “You brought her back”, she started, knowing she didn’t have to explain what she meant. “And now you’re hurt because of it. This is literally...literally the least I can do.” At Nell’s reassurance, she reached into her bag, fishing around for one of the vials she’d brought with her. She nodded, letting out a breath. “I trust you, Nell. And, well… if it does somehow get out, it’s not like I don’t know where to find you,” she teased. Her hand finally found the vial, and she pulled it out, holding it up triumphantly. Her eyes landed on Nell’s wounded arms, and she blinked. They were worse than she thought. “They won’t be instant”, she explained. “Not with your arms being so bad. But maybe after an hour or two, you’ll notice a huge difference.” She looked around, amazed at the variety and condition of plants that surrounded them. Nell was describing the greenhouse almost like her own private sanctuary, and it reminded her of how she felt about the library. “Maybe I’ll take some veggies of my own?”, she suggested. “Do you have any kale?”

“We brought her back,” Nell corrected gently, knowing it wasn’t just herself that was responsible for Bea walking the earth once again. “I would have...there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. For Luce, too.” She figured that went without saying, but the witch wasn’t sure what else to say in response to Leah’s words when it came to her wounds. At the sight of the vial, Nell’s eyes lit up, hopeful as to how they might make it so her arms seemed to constantly sting and crack. She tried to reign it in as Leah explained, giving a nod. As for her arms...they looked like someone had splashed a map of the world across them, shiny continents plastered onto rougher patches here and there, still raw in places and pink and fragile. “Anything is better than this,” she simply said, endlessly frustrated with how limited she’d been ever since the resurrection. “I’m ready whenever you are?” Nell asked, presenting the gruesome sight of her arms for inspection and phoenix tear application. “Leah, you can have literally as many veggies as you want if it means being able to do something as take a fucking shower without having to worry about reopening my arms. I’ll give you an entire forest of kale.”

Leah nodded. “You all did.” She couldn’t imagine what it took for all of them to get Bea back, even now, it was clearly still affecting everyone in some way. She’d helped Winston with their tech problem, at least, but emotional trauma was going to be a little harder for all of them to overcome. “I know that, Nell. And I know they know that, too.” Even when they bickered or argued, the love the Vural girls had for one another was so strong you could basically see it flowing through them. She expected nothing less than Nell and Luce to try to bring Bea back when it first happened, and part of her felt like a coward for giving up hope so soon. With a laugh, letting her eyes fall to more of Nell’s plants. “You’re like a regular old granny, growing all of this in here, you know that? Okay, deal… I’ll have free reign of all your kale and zucchini. That’s how you can repay me.” She winced as she got a better look at Nells arms, every new angle seemed to provide deeper insight into just how damaged they truly were. “Shit. How did you explain this to the hospital?”, she asked, as she popped open the vial. “I can see why they wanted to keep you there for so long. Okay, hold still…”, she warned. Gently taking hold of Nell’s left wrist, Leah pulled her arm out straight so the tears could access area’s evenly. Her face was serious and concentrated as she began the process, tipping the vial along Nell’s arm and letting the contents spill out onto it. The last thing she wanted was to use too much on one arm before she had the chance to start the process on the other. “Stop me if it’s hurting you”, she said, letting her eyes shoot to Nell’s for only a second.

As far as emotional trauma went, Nell was firmly refusing to let it truly sink in, or rather acknowledge it. She’d power through. She always did. That’s how it worked, right? Either way, a warm smile was on her lips at the mention of her sisters and their relationship. It was certainly..complicated at times, but at the end of the day they were family. “Excuse me?” Nell said, faking outrage at Leah’s words. “I am not a grandma! But if I was a grandma, I’d be the hippest one. If anyone’s a grandma, it’s Bea.” She stayed still as Leah poured, a little apprehensive as the drops began to flow. There was a reason her blood sacrifice scars had been so prominent on her arms before the necromancy had even happened. Injuries made by blood magic weren’t meant to be healed by magical terms. But at this point, Nell was desperate to have her arms healed. With everything going on with the Ring, she couldn’t afford to be caught at anything less than her best. Hopefully, seeing as phoenix tears weren’t the traditional sort of magical healing, it wouldn’t have any adverse effects. Finally, the tears made contact with her skin, and Nell clenched her teeth as a burning sensation began to follow the liquid’s path. That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it? Maybe it was just the residual blood magic fighting back, trying to keep the sacrificial wound from being healed. But even though it hurt, she could see her skin stitching itself back together before her very eyes. If she could have her arms back, the pain was worth it. “No, keep going. It’s fine.”

With a loud laugh, Leah held up a hand defensively. “You’re the coolest granny”, she reassured. “All the other grandmas go to you for grandma fashion advice.” She pointed at her with a teasing finger, grinning. “Are you calling Bea a grandma cause you think she’s old? Because I’m not too far behind her, honey.” She bit her lip as she continued to pour the tears, wanting to get every inch of Nell’s arm before she starting on the other one. Her eyes darted up when she noticed it was causing Nell pain, but she continued. She nodded at her words, understanding. Pausing in between would just make the pain last longer. “Hey, where’s that big guy Taki? I haven’t seen him in a while”, she said, wanting to distract Nell. Satisfied that she was done with her left arm, she grabbed Nell’s right wrist, glancing up at her before she began again. “We good?”

“You bet I am,” Nell joked back with a slight chuckle. “I’m the baddest bitch in the retirement home.” Though, if she was being honest...the chances of making it to a ripe, old age at the rate she was going seemed slim. Before the last couple of months, she’d barely thought about her own mortality, but after watching her sister die, being an inch from death, and continuously finding herself in bleak situations...it was a reality she could no longer escape. “I’m calling both of you grandmas because I think you’re both old,” she shot back with a grin. Then, Taki seemed to appear at the very mention of his name, instantly rubbing up against the ankles of Leah with eyes sleepily slitted in contentment. He’d always been fond of the girl, after all- they shared the element of fire. Nell spared him a smile before gritting her teeth again, and giving Leah a determined nod. “We’re good. I just want my arms back.” She’d bear the pain ten times over if it meant she could get rid of this sense of powerlessness.

Leah rolled her eyes playfully, chuckling. It was something she could really see happening, Nell being the ring leader to a bunch of badass old ladies. “I’ll be sure to remind you of that on your 28th birthday, we’ll see what you think of that then.” She smiled down at Taki as he walked by, taking her attention away from Nell’s arms momentarily. “I’ve summoned him!”, she joked. “Hey there big guy.” She always felt a certain kinship with the Ovinikk, and hadn’t seen him since before Bea died. Leah nodded back, licking her lips before pouring the last bit of the vial onto Nell’s right arm. “There.”, she said, letting her eyes meet Nell’s again. “That should be it. They already look like they’re getting better.” It wasn’t a lie- she could tell just by looking at them that they were already vastly better than when she got there. But Nell still had a long way to go. “It’ll take a few hours, … maybe even into tomorrow to be 100%. Maybe you should have a movie night with Winston or someone, just so you’re not tempted to go out and get yourself into more trouble… at least not until you’re fully healed.” There was a playful smile on her lips, but the sentiment was real- if Nell wanted this to work, she needed to rest. Suddenly, she held up her finger, as if she was remembering something. She rummaged through her bag, pulling out two more vials and presenting them to Nell. “For Bea and Luce. You’ll probably see both of them before me, so… I figured I’d just give them to you.”

“If I make it until then,” Nell joked, though the delivery of it might have come off a bit more morbid than she’d intended. With everything that had happened in the past few months...it wasn’t exactly looking all that promising. The witch tried to brush the thought aside like an errant cobweb, moving on to something much more enjoyable. Taki. “He must have sensed your radiant presence,” she said lightheartedly. Meanwhile, the oversized cat began to purr ferociously, patting his paws against Leah’s legs as he stretched, almost as it to ask why she was paying attention to anything other than him. As Leah signaled the end to the healing, Nell instantly went to test the limits of her arms, stretching and flexing them. They still weren’t prettily healed, but her voice broke out in a relieved laugh when there was little to no pain as she moved. “Thank you, Leah,” she breathed, not knowing how to express her endless gratitude in a way that was sufficient. “Thank you so much. This is...this is really helpful.” At least she could gain some of her autonomy and power back now that her arms were nearly mended. As she gripped the vials in her hands, she again asked, “Are you sure? If you give us these you have to take more vegetables and stuff than you can carry.”

Leah gave Nell a pointed look. “Don’t talk like that”, she warned, putting a hand on Nell’s shoulder. “You can’t let yourself even think like that, Nell, because you’re gonna manifest it. You’ll make it to 28. You’ll make it to 108. Because your sisters will kill you if you don’t.” There was no doubt in her mind that if something happened to Nell before then (and who knew, with all the bad luck she’d been having lately), that Bea and Luce and Blanche and Winston would go to the ends of the earth to bring her back, just as they had done for Bea. But she also couldn’t imagine all of them having to go through that again. She laughed at Taki at her feet and at Nell’s comment, kneeling down to scratch behind his ears now that she was done with Nell’s arms. “Do you need some attention, Baby?” she asked over his purr. She pressed her face into Taki’s and then kissed him on the forehead before quickly standing back up to chat with Nell, though she continued to pet him. She nodded to acknowledge the thanks, biting her lip. “I’m really, really glad, because after all the shit you’ve been through lately, this is the least I can do, like I said. For all of you. I’m so, so positive”, she nodded again, and then glanced around at all the vegetables just begging to be picked. “Okay, fine… but can you and Taki help me bring them to my car?”

#teardrops on my guitar(m)#chatzy #ch:leah #wickedswriting

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diyunho · 4 years

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The Joker x Reader - “John Wick” Part 3

Y/N left The Organization 3 years ago for the one reason strong enough to make her settle down: love. But after tragedy crushed her to pieces, she decided to leave The Joker and seek refuge with an old friend and mentor - John Wick. Needless to say The King of Gotham can’t accept his wife running away without a word, especially since he didn’t have a chance to tell her things she might want to hear.

Part 1 Part 2

The Joker listens at the bedroom’s door, impatient to have a conversation with you. It seems you are engaged into a fervent phone call with Winston and figured he shouldn’t interrupt.

“Please, anything you can discover would be a great help! U-hum… U-hum… Thank you,” and you hang up, which queues your husband to walk into the room.

You completely ignore him, scrolling through the numerous text messages you sent to your connections; several are already answering back and hopefully you can get some news soon. The more people are involved into the project, the more chances to find Kase and untangle the mystery of what happened to him after he was removed from the car.

“You left me there,” The Joker sneaks in and closes the door behind him. “Luckily we had Wick with us so he gave me a ride.”

No reaction. He takes a deep breath, trying to get your awareness.

“I didn’t sleep with Evelyn; sex wasn’t the reason why I kept visiting her. I know how that asshole made it sound and he was totally out of line!”

You quickly glance at him, busy replying to Ares since you feel you’re going to explode soon.

“The only skill I was interested in is the fact that she is an excellent painter and a popular art smuggler, OK?” J raises his voice, sort of annoyed you neglect to participate into his monologue. “I did not cheat, alright?” he approaches his wife. “First of all: I’m VERY picky! Second of all: why would I want a woman everyone else had?! I don’t like used toys. Third: nobody’s been polishing my gun as you tastefully addressed the issue! I have one Queen and I married her!!”

A little bit of doubt in your eyes and he utilizes the opportunity.

“You said you saw me going to her house? I did! The Bowery King asked if it was for the last 6 months? Yeah, I did! You know why?!”

At least now The Joker got your attention: you play it cool but he guesses you’re torn apart by his confession.

Many unfortunate events crammed in lately and hating the man you love made life infinitely more unbearable.

“Why…?” you barely muster the strength to inquire and he sees it as a possibility to mend a few broken pieces; although you can hide your emotions well, J can still read between the lines.

Maybe that’s why he answers with another question:

“Do you realize there are just three Monet paintings in circulation on the black market in the entire world? You admire his work and it took a lot of effort and a substantial fortune to acquire The Water Lily Pond painting. Evelyn Black helped with the transaction, then I had her make some modifications to the original masterpiece.”

You keep staring at The King of Gotham, uncertain about the stuff being tossed your way: is he lying or telling the truth?... In your line of work translating feelings is a huge part of the job; ultimately you had the best mentor to teach you the ropes when you started with the organization: none other than the legendary Baba Yaga. Despite his reputation and to your own amazement, John was one of the few hitmen with integrity and perfectly mastered the aptitude of not being a jerk. Such a rare gem… And blissfully unaware of it himself.

On the opposite end, The Joker is a jerk and flawlessly acquainted with his own “captivating” personality that made you fall in love with him anyway.

Also, doesn’t appear to be deceitful for the moment.

And you despise yourself even more for wanting to believe him.

“What… modifications?...” you throw him a bone and J is definitely not going to pass on the alternative of explaining his actions.

“I wanted to surprise you so I took advantage of Miss Black’s capabilities in the art field; I had her add small images to the authentic canvas: an evolution of you being pregnant, the nine frames culminating with a tenth: the new mother holding our son. Similar to a timeline,” he emphasize and you look intrigued, which might be a positive sign. “Needless to say it was tedious, difficult work, especially because she had to apply special pigments you can’t find at every corner of the street. Apparently you can’t mix old paint with contemporary shades, thus I had to order aged, special colors from Italy, Spain and France. That’s why I went to her place so often: I had to supervise the long process and make sure it turns out astonishing. Then…” and The Joker pauses,”…Kase was gone and I didn’t know what to do with my gift: bring it home or not? Would you have loved it? Would it make you sadder? I continued to drive to Evelyn’s and glare at the stupid painting for hours, undecided on what to do…”

J watches you bite on your cheek, then straightens his shoulders as you utter the words:

“… … … You ruined a genuine Monet?”

Your spouse might be a smooth talker when needed, yet he’s not wasting his versatility on this statement:

“I didn’t ruin it; I made it better!”

Silence from both parties. A good or bad omen? Hard to decipher the riddle with two individuals tangled into a relationship that somehow worked despite countless peculiarities meant to keep them apart.

“I have to talk to Jonathan,” you finally mutter and The Joker steps in front of you.

“Talk to me!”

“Unless you know the exact location of the suitcase full of gold coins he’s been safekeeping for me, I really have to speak to him. Or do you want to hammer the whole basement searching for it?”

Y/N walks out of the bedroom and J lingers inside, evesdropping on the conversation happening downstairs. He can’t understand the chat, but you are probably notifying John about the details your husband left out.

Might as well join the party, therefore The Clown pops up in the living room with a plea impossible to refuse:

“Hey Wick, can I stay here? I don’t care if you say no, I’m not going to leave.”

Your friend crosses his arms on his chest, focusing on the random topic:

“How could I deny such a polite request? Of course you can stay Mister Joker; my house is your house.”

You’re watching the free show unamused; usually it would make you smile…now you lack the depth for such connotations.

“Don’t get smart with me, Wick!” J growls and Jonathan pushes for a tiny, unnecessary quarrel.

“I’m not; although generally speaking, I fancy considering myself a smart guy.”

The Joker opens his mouth and you’re not in the mood for whatever the heck they’re initiating:

“I’m going to pump, then after you dig out the suitcase I’ll take half to the Bowery King,” you announce your plans to them.

“You can do that and rest; I’ll deliver the coins,” John immediately offers. “I can stop by Aurelio’s car shop and ask for his collaboration: he has a lot of associates, doesn’t hurt to get him involved. You have plenty of gold.”

“I have two more suitcases in the Continental’s safe and two more at The Penthouse. It doesn’t matter if it’s all gone as long as I can find my son.”

“I know gold coins are preferred; don’t forget we have a lot of money too,” J reckons with spite.

Is he reminding you or Jonathan?...

*************

Your husband spent the last hour in the garden, talking and texting with a lot of people; needless to mention he’s capitalizing on his network also. Winston disclosed Stonneberg’s contract is still opened, meaning the son of a bitch is out there; you have to scoop him before anybody else does.

“Y/N…” The Joker tiptoes in your quarters. “I thought you were taking a nap,” he huffs when he sees you at the edge of the bed.

You glare at the vial on the nightstand, sharing your idea for a future you wish will come true:

“I didn’t have my medicine in two days; I won’t take it anymore because if we get Kase back… I will nurse him. It all goes in the milk and I want to be able to feed my baby… Do you think his little heart is still beating?...” you sniffle and J is currently debating on a clever response since his mind is blank; one could deduce messing up is encoded in his DNA, but on such a huge scale… well, it gives new interpretations to the term even for him.

The grieving woman seeking reassurance for their loss is trying to make sense of the pointless occurrences that lead to Kase being an innocent victim and The Joker can’t render clarification: he has no clue why he asked her to marry him and why she said yes, it’s not that he’s husband material or a family man. Perhaps Y/N thought he could be… just enough to get by, that’s why she accepted his proposal.

Most women would have cringed at the concept. Most women. Not Y/N.

Most women would have flinched at the notion of having his baby. Most women. Not his wife.

Above all, she trusted J with their son and he treated the three weeks old like a trinket: didn’t drive him home because he had an important meeting, didn’t bother to assign escorting cars nor extra security. The King of Gotham took his child’s safety lightly and it definitely had severe consequences. Too late now to fix past mistakes... but he can attempt.

“You’ll be able to nurse him, OK?” he sits by you and hands over his cell. “Can you enter your phone number in here? Or am I not allowed to have the present digits?”

You’re hesitant and he slides the screen while you hold the gadget.

“Lemme help you,” The Joker sarcastically mumbles. “It should be the first on my list, right where the old number you canceled was.”

You exhale and fulfill his demand out of pure frustration when he squeezes in a second innocent petition.

“Chose my avatar.”

You grunt at his rubbish, scrolling through his folders for a picture anyway; J hopes the largest file will get your attention and that’s the point. How could Y/N miss it?!

Entitled “Baby”, the humongous cluster of pics contains 5,723 items. You open it quite absorbed by its size; what’s more puzzling is the collection depicting Kase’s ultrasounds, hundreds of frames with you being pregnant taken without you knowing: there’s a few when your ankles were so swollen you had to sleep with your feet up on 4 pillows, others with you munching on strange food you craved, more with you in the shower focused on your bump, a decent amount of couple selfies when you were sleeping and J had to immortalize the moment without waking you up and approximately 1,500 images of the newborn.

“You didn’t gross me out when you were pregnant,” The Joker reminds a teary Y/N. “Not sure why you would believe such aberration...” he pulls you on his knees and yanks the phone away, tossing it on the nightstand. “I would also like to underline I didn’t have an affair with Miss Black, alright?”

J lifts your chin up, forcing to look at him.

“Let’s put it this way: why would I fuck around with another woman when I have a wife at home that wants to kill me on a regular basis, hm? Where would the fun be? I mean, she didn’t pull the trigger yet but it’s exciting to hope she might. You know me: I’m a sucker for thrills!”

“Do I?”

“Huh?” J steals a kiss and you frown at his sleekness.

“Know you?”

“Yeah,” the green haired Clown acts composed while in fact his feathers are ruffled. Before you catch onto it he has to ultimately admit: “I’m sorry I didn’t drive the car… I should have…”

The Joker holds in his breath when your arms go around his neck very tight.

“I’m suffocating…” he grumbles. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to hug me or choke me to death,” J keeps on caressing your hair, prepared to block your attack in case you’re actually in killing mode.

This is the excitement he was speaking about: with you, one could never know until it’s a done deal.

“I bumped into Magnus at the Continental,” you give him a bit of space to inhale much needed air and The Joker is surprised at your revelation. “I had no idea about his scheme, otherwise I would have skinned him alive right on the hotel grounds! I wouldn’t have cared about the consequences!”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” J cuts you off and he can tell you’re getting mad; maybe you think he doesn’t give a damn but the reason is simple. “You would’ve been declared excommunicado for murder on neutral ground and I don’t want my wife to be the target of such punishment from the company she so proudly retired from. I need my partner!”

The King of Gotham touches your forehead with his as you whisper:

“I hate you!”

“Mmm, regarding this true love affirmation, I’m gonna need you to take a break from detesting me until we have Kase, then you can despise me full throttle again. Deal?” he extends the palm of his hand and you reluctantly shake it, not realizing you’re reacting to his nonsense. “Is that a smile?” J returns the favor with one of his creepy silver grins.

“No.”

“Liar,” he pecks your lips and can’t explain the weird feeling in his heart when you kiss him back.

*************

Jonathan enters the house and becomes suspicious after a few minutes: too much silence.

Omg! Did you and The Joker engaged into a brawling that ended up badly? Did you end each other?!

John frantically runs to the garage, nervous to see your car and J’s are still parked inside. Shit!

“Y/N?” he shouts, concerned about your fate; The Joker’s… irrelevant. Nobody in the garden, patio is empty also. Downstairs is deserted thus he rushes upstairs to your room. The door is not completely shut and he slowly pushes it, knocking.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

The first thing he notices are clothes scattered on the floor, then he halts his movement at the sight of Y/N and her husband dozing off on the bed sideways: the naked bodies are covered with a blanket, but he can tell you’re snuggled in J’s arms.

Jonathan steps backwards, guilty of invading his guests’ privacy; he certainly didn’t expect to intrude in such a manner and softly closes the door, grateful it’s not what he feared.

You and The Joker are so worn out the sound of your phones vibrating on the nightstand doesn’t wake you from the deep sleep. Your numerous contacts keep replying back to the text messages, the most important one showing up on his cell: one of the people J reached to is Evelyn Black and the two sentence conversation lights up the screen.

“Let me know if you see Stonnenberg.”

“He’s here.”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #john wick imagine #john wick x reader #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker jared leto #mister j #Mistah J #Mr.J #dc #dcu

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rafaelswaithe-archived · 5 years

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Distractions

Summary: Requested by @perfectlystiles — “ opie winston + fem!reader maybe she get gets hurt in a fight and op freaks out and realizes he likes her and wants her to be his old lady?? “ Warnings: Guns, violence, language, drinking Pairing: Opie Winston (Sons of Anarchy) x Reader Word Count: 2798 Rating: M

The two of you had been doing this dance for months — since the first time that you’d come to one of the Sons’ parties with your friend.

You’d just broken up with your long-term boyfriend, the asshole having cheated on you, and you insisted that maybe this wasn’t a good idea, that you should stay home. You were sure that you wouldn’t be any fun to have around.

Still, she had insisted, telling you that you needed to get your mopey ass out of the house. You’d rolled your eyes, letting her pick out your cutest outfit and do your hair and makeup. “That piece of shit has no idea just what he’s missing,” she told you, looking you over before you headed out.

After a little less than half an hour at the party, your friend had gone off with one of the guys. She’d asked you about ten times if you were sure if it was okay, and you told her it was. Just because you were still healing from your breakup didn’t mean that she shouldn’t have a good time.

You sat at the bar, nursing your drink until soon, you felt someone slip onto the stool beside you. Glancing over, you spotted a man who despite his rough appearance, glanced back at you with soft, sweet eyes.

“Another beer, Ope?” the bartender asked, and he nodded, thanking her. He looked back at you for a moment and noticed that your glass of alcohol was nearly empty.

“And maybe another for…” he trailed off as if to ask your name.

“Y/N,” you answered, and he nodded. The bartender nodded as well, moving to make you another drink after trading out Opie’s empty beer bottle for a fresh one.

“Opie,” he spoke, offering his hand for you to shake, which you took, unable to help but notice just how much larger the male’s hands were than yours.

“Thanks… for that,” you said, gesturing to how the bartender was currently making your drink. “I was good for it, but I appreciate it.”

He gave you a small grin, “It’s not a problem. You’re a guest, after all,” he shrugged. After a moment, he spoke up again, “You’re not here alone, are you?” he questioned.

You smirked a bit at his question, shaking your head. “Technically, no. I came with a friend, but I think she’s off with one of your friends somewhere,” you replied, gesturing to the club’s logo on his kutte, as if to say that the guy your friend had walked off with was part of his club.

“Ahh, yeah. Depending on who pulled her away, your friend may be a while,” he laughed quietly. “You seem like this whole thing isn’t really your scene.”

You shrugged your shoulders, thanking the bartender quietly as she brought you your drink. “I’m in a funk lately. I’m usually a lot more fun.”

Opie’s head tilted as he looked you over, “Oh? Want to talk about it?” he asked. He kept the thoughts to himself that you looked incredibly well put together for someone who claimed to be in a funk.

You shook your head lightly, “Not really anything to talk about. Just a trash, cheating ex and the overly dramatic breakup. It’s a pretty boring story, really,” you said with a quiet laugh.

His brow furrowed at that, brow arching as you mentioned that you’d been cheated on. “That’s not boring. I’m sorry that happened to you,” he spoke.

Sure, several of the Sons still slept around, even if they had an Old Lady, but it had never been the life for him. He’d been married, and until Donna died and even afterward, he was faithful. It wasn’t until recently that he’d let himself start to have fun with other women again.

You took a long sip of your drink, nodding slowly, “You and me, both, Opie. I’m trying not to dwell on it too much, though. That’s why my friend brought me here — she thought that I needed a distraction.”

Opie hummed quietly, nodding as you spoke and he stroked his beard with the hand not holding his beer. “Well, I’d say that there’s definitely plenty to distract you here,” he replied, looking over at you with a grin.

——————————

Months later, you had made many more appearances at the club’s parties, even bringing your car to the garage when it needed a tune-up, in the off-chance that you’d see and get to talk to Opie.

The two of you had become close quickly. He found that he could confide in you without you judging him, and he gave you the same courtesy. You always seemed to make each other laugh, and you were able to calm each other down when the other was upset. You had even met and loved his kids.

It was evident to everyone around you that there were feelings between the two of you, but you were still hesitant. Part of him would always belong to Donna, and you weren’t sure if he would be able to fully give himself over to you. On top of that, it was still hard for you to trust anyone, even though he’d done nothing to break yours.

Regardless, you and Opie had been spending a lot of time together. You could always be found together when you weren’t working, and had built a true bond with one another.

Sitting on a bar stool in the clubhouse as you sipped from your drink, your eyes lit up as you saw the guys walking inside, Opie front and center with Jax and Clay. Your eyes moved over the guys’ features, trying to read if they had a good run or not, or if it was a good time to approach him.

Opie’s eyes moved over the bar, spotting you almost instantaneously. When your eyes met his, he nodded for you to come over to him. You set your drink down on the bar, moving from your stool and making your way over.

Once you were close enough, you placed your hands on his shoulders, intending to jump up and have him catch you, but he had other ideas. He stooped down once you were in arm’s reach, wrapping his arms around your legs and playfully tossing you over his shoulder.

“Opie!” you squealed, causing him and Jax to laugh while Clay rolled his eyes, continuing on his way the office. Your hands rested against his back and you tapped lightly to be put down. Once you were on your feet again, his arm remained around you, circling around your shoulders.

You moved your arm around his waist, walking toward the dorms with him to let him get cleaned up. As you were almost there, you saw one of the Crow Eaters slip into your and Opie’s path. You recognized the girl from the time that you’d spent at the clubhouse — Melanie, you thought her name was — and knew that she was especially fond of Opie.

He’d hooked up with her a few times in a drunken haze, then never again, seeing just how crazy she could be. Still, she’d never seemed to get the hint. She pushed her blond hair off of her shoulders, intending to give Opie that much better of a view of her cleavage, and you rolled your eyes.

“Hey, Ope,” she greeted, sly smile plastered onto her lips.

“Mel,” he nodded, starting to step around her to continue on his way, but she stepped into his path again.

Mel turned to you, then, “Hey sweetheart, why don’t you give Opie and I some alone time. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of other guys out there for you to choose from.”

She proceeded to reach out for him, to which he pulled away before she could touch him. “Mel, I already told you, this is never going to happen again.”

Melanie scoffed, shaking her head, “Why? Because of this bitch?” she asked, gesturing to you. Moving in closer to him again, you felt him stiffen, but you knew that he wouldn’t use force against her unless he felt that he had to. “Come on Opie. We had so much fun last time,” she drawled, voice sickeningly sweet as she dragged a finger down the center of his chest.

Your brow arched as she called you a bitch, and before you knew that you were doing it, you’d grabbed her hand from where it moved over Opie’s chest, reacting before even he did. “This bitch is about two seconds from kicking your ass if you don’t leave. Now. He said he wasn’t interested, now fuck off.”

Mel smirked, letting out an almost maniacal laugh at the thought of you kicking her ass. “You want to go? Let’s go,” she spoke, pulling a gun from her bag, pointing it at you, then Opie, then you again. “But, I fight dirty.”

Both you and Opie’s hands lifted as a sort of surrender, and he started to pull away from you, putting himself between you and Melanie, and you could tell that he was going to try and take the gun from her before she did something stupid.

“Mel.. put the gun down. Come on, don’t be stupid,” he started, keeping his hands up.

Mel shook her head, keeping the gun pointed at you, placing her finger on the trigger. “Don’t fucking call me stupid, Ope. You know, you and I could be so great together. I’m willing to bet you’ve never came as hard with her as you did with me.”

Opie shook his head, “I meant what I said, Mel. No more. You think pulling this crazy shit is going to make me want to be with you? Really?”

“Crazy is putting it mildly,” you murmured under your breath.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, bitch?” Mel spat, starting to move closer to you.

Before she could move much further, however, Opie grabbed her by the wrists, working to wrestle the gun out of her hands while her finger was still on the trigger.

Though he was stronger than most, Mel’s adrenaline had to be going a mile a minute because she fought tooth and nail to keep her hold on the gun and keep it pointed at you.

In the midst of their struggle, Mel’s finger slipped over the trigger, causing the gun to go off. Time seemed to move in slow motion as the bullet sped toward you, Opie basically tackling Mel to the ground and snatching the gun out of her reach.

“Y/N, move!” he yelled, trying to get you to move out of the line of fire in time.

As the bullet clipped your arm, you cried out in pain, falling to the floor. Of all of the places to be shot, you were sure this wasn’t nearly the worst, yet it still hurt like hell.

Several of the club members ran to investigate the gun shot, eyes widening at the scene that had unfolded. Opie’s eyes locked with Jax’s and he shoved Mel toward him, as well as her gun. “Get her ass out of here.”

Jax grabbed the gun, taking the ammunition out of it and passing it off to one of the other guys as Juice moved forward, grabbing Mel and hauling her outside.

Opie moved to your side, kneeling down beside you and pulling you into his embrace. He looked up at Jax as he removed his kutte, then his shirt, wrapping it around your wound and holding pressure. “Call Tara.”

Jax nodded, taking out his phone and dialing the doctor’s number, and Opie held you close to him.

“Hey… Y/N,” he spoke, voice soft and comforting. “Y/N, baby, you’re gonna be okay.”

He had seen plenty of people shot, and had even been the one doing the shooting, but this was different. You weren’t some gangbanger or outlaw. You were innocent. This was never supposed to happen.

“Opie…” you groaned softly, a quiet whine leaving your lips. “She fucking shot me.”

Opie bit down on his lip in the center, nodding lightly. “She did, but it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. Tara’s on the way and she’ll get you all fixed up.”

Your hand moved to cover his over your wound, turning your face into Opie’s shoulder. “Your taste in girls is questionable,” you sighed.

Opie couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. Looking down at you, his eyes scanned your features. “Not always.”

——————————

Once you’d been all stitched up and Tara cleared you, she’d given you some pain medicine and told you to take it easy. Through it all, Opie had barely left your side, and you were beyond thankful for him.

Days later, you laid in his bed in the dorms, curled up on your good side beneath his blankets as you inhaled his scent on his pillows, allowing it to comfort you.

The door opened after a few minutes, Opie letting himself into the room and closing the door behind him. Looking over your shoulder, you gave him a small smile. “Hey…”

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked, starting to change his clothes and get more comfortable.

You turned to look away from him again as you saw him changing clothes, wanting to give him at least a little privacy if he wanted it. “I’m okay, I guess. Still pretty sore.”

Opie nodded, changing into a pair of pajama pants and a wife beater tank. Crawling into bed beside you, he propped his head up with one hand, reaching out with the other and lightly tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. “I wanna talk to you about something,” he spoke quietly.

Your head tilted at that and you nodded, “Okay… yeah, anything,” you agreed, leaning into his touch a bit as his fingers moved over your hair.

“So, the other day when everything went down, I’d actually been planning to talk to you then, but all of that kind of delayed it,” he started.

Nodding, you reached out, fingers lightly stroking over his beard, making him smile just barely as you waited for him to continue.

“All of this, it scares the shit out of me. I can deal with the guns, and drugs, and violence, and even rivalries within the club, but this is something else entirely. When I’m with you, I feel things that I haven’t felt since I was first with Donna.”

You bit down on your lip in the center as he mentioned Donna, and his thumb moved to soothe over your lower lip, lightly releasing it from your teeth. You pressed the softest of kisses to his thumb, and he let out a sigh.

“These feelings? They scare me, and I know that they scare you too,” he continued. “But, all of that the other day? It makes me see that I need to just man up and tell you how I feel.”

Your head tilted curiously as you looked at him, and you could hear and feel your heartbeat in your ears as you waited for him to go on. “And how do you feel, Opie?”

Opie sighed again, glancing down toward the bed. Hesitating for only a moment, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

Your brows arched, eyes widening slightly before closing, returning his kiss with ease. Your hand lifted, cupping his cheek as you kissed him, letting out a soft moan at the feel of his lips against yours.

After several moments of kissing you, he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “I want you to give me a shot. I like you. You’re one of my closest friends and I care about you. I want you to be mine. Let me be yours, and let me protect you so nothing like this ever happens again.”

In all of the time that you and Opie had spent together over the last several months, you’d always had feelings for him, lying beneath the surface. When you had met, you were still getting over your ex, and you’d pushed any and all feelings down, not wanting to get hurt again. Despite all of that, Opie had still found his way into your heart.

“Yours… like be your Old Lady?” you asked.

Opie’s thumb brushed against your cheek and he nodded, “If that’s what you want.”

You hummed softly, leaning in and pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “I like you too, Ope. Let’s give this a try and see how it goes.”

At your response, he grinned widely, “And here I was thinking that the club life wasn’t your scene,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head. “I told you, I was in a funk. You got me out of it.”

#opie winston x reader #opie winston #sons of anarchy #opie winston imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #writing: mine #i did minimal editing on this so if it sucks and has errors i'm sorry #i'll go back and read it and try and fix them later if so

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 5 years

Text

Persephone | John Wick x Reader (Ten)

Words: 2427

A/N: How do I do this again? Sorry for the long wait, guys, and thank you for being patient with me. I wanted to finish the rest of the series before posting them and it took longer than I liked it to be. But it’s here. I hope you guys are still with me and I hope that the rest of the chapters were worth the wait.

Previously: Allies are reunited and new enemies are formed as you meet up with the Romanovas, an old ally from your past that wish to aid you, and discover a threat that had been brewing for some time. Gavriil Sokolov, a crime boss that had no involvement in the Underworld until he took over the syndicate from his father, sought to change the system in his favor by influencing other factions and turning on those who hold authority in the Underworld.

Persephone Series Masterlist

It had been months and John Wick was yet to be found. Winston was allowed to keep his post as the manager of New York’s Continental, but he was hiding something. The Adjudicator knew all too well that he and Wick go way back. But, that was an ongoing problem that they must deal with.

As they stare up at the charred remains of a tall building, owned by the Italian crime syndicate, Brunellos, that were led by a prime candidate for a seat at the Table, they had their resources scouring the area for evidence. Wars between houses and syndicates were a regular occurrence, something that must be dealt with swiftly along with the affiliated members of the High Table. This, however, had gone beyond the rules of the Underworld. This had killed innocent lives that were protected within the walls of this syndicate.

The people of the Underworld knew better than to use such methods that could involve civilians into their affairs. There was a line that separated the Underworld and the civilian world that must not be crossed in order to contain the violence and complex system under the Table and protect those that have no business in that system.

There were cases where civilians had been drawn into the Underworld, making deals with small factions, whether it was for money, power, or protection. There is no issue, unless it involved harming innocents or contracts were broken. The Adjudicator was reluctant to admit that that aspect was not as well monitored as they would like.

With criminals, there were the usual contracts and the Markers that meticulously logged in. With civilians making deals with criminals, it’s another thing. Criminals were all profiled, each official assassin accounted for in their database. Civilians were not. That means that there would rarely be any proof that the deals existed.

The faction that the Adjudicator hired to help them with the investigation and tracking down the perpetrator had found nothing but a single object from the wreckage that could give any leads.

A vorpal blade.

There were many assassins that preferred using blades like these, but this particular design could be none other than Persephone. Persephone who had gone silent for almost five years. Right now, the Adjudicator was leaving their options open, wanting to look into your whereabouts. While you were a knives kind of person, you were also known for gadgets and your involvement in this case were not as far fetch as far as evidence goes.

“Sokolov that bastard!” Rozaliya spat as she watched the news reporting the fire that went off, killing many of its residence.

Nastya sighed into her tea as her daughter began her pacing again. You were at a nearby table, sketching out new ideas for weapons while John had gone back to the Bowery King for further news of her contacts. Nastya had warned them about trusting the king, admitting that Caius is well known for keeping his word and is more trustworthy. The Bowery King, due to building his own kingdom from the ground up, still had the mentality of being outside of the regular Underworld system. A self-made man within a world filled with conglomerate heirs, as he would say.

Due to the Bowery King being your first source of regaining your footing, there were loose ends to be taken care of before you could distance yourself from him. His reasoning of helping you and John was so you could take down the High Table with him. It was an old system that needed reforming, and while he would nod to any plans that you could think of, he felt that your approach were slightly too passive for his liking.

“Yevgeni, could you send a message to the Instructor for me?” you asked the guard.

Yevgeni nodded. “What will it be?”

“Caius knows my former allies and had sent people to round them up. I want an update from them, but make sure that they steer clear from the Bowery as much as possible and also keep their eyes open for any houses making any contact with Sokolov.”

“I’ll be right on it,” he said, looking towards Rozaliya and Nastya to be dismissed.

Rozaliya was too fixated on the TV to notice, so Nastya gave a nod to Yevgeni. “Thank you, Yevgeni,” she said. Once her guard left, she placed her tea cup down and turned to you. “Will you be coming back even after this, or will you leave?”

You thought for a moment. “I’ve thought about it a couple of times and I still don’t exactly know. Travel? Live a simple life with a large greenhouse in the back? But I doubt that it’ll last. I mean, look at what happened to John. Have you two ever stop and wonder what life would be like outside of the Underworld?”

Rozaliya pulled her eyes away from the news and sat next to you. “I’ve come to believe that it’s something that’s crossed most people’s minds here in the Underworld,” she said, “For me, I was born in it, but I often wondered what it would have been like to live… normally. I always had men guarding me and learned how to hold a gun when I was young. The people I meet would be in danger if I were to get close to them, so I wasn’t allowed to make friends outside of this criminal world. It gets lonely being the daughter of a High Table member. Everybody tried to find ways to use me for their advantage.”

You could only imagine what it was like for her growing up. You had a relatively normal childhood until you were brought into the Underworld. From the first week under the Instructor, you learned not to trust everyone and keep your head low. You weren’t allowed to contact your parents or have any attachments to your previous life. Living under the Instructor was suffocating, the only sense of freedom were after you had finished a mission. Then you would have to go back to the theater and start it all over again.

“It was harder when my mother died,” Rozaliya continued, “My father didn’t know what to do and just focused on running the syndicate. When Nastya came around, I hated her, of course. This strange woman comes into our home and tries to take my mother’s place.”

Nastya snorted at the memory, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. “She did a background check on me and everything,” she said, almost fondly. “If you do decide to leave the criminal world, we’ll help you, no strings attached.”

“Thank you, but I don’t want to ask too much from you,” you said, looking down at your lap. “Do you think Ophelia killed my parents because I tried to leave?”

“Ophelia was an ambitious and stubborn woman, but she was also impulsive. As soon as she found out that you were breaking away from her control, she did what she thought would hurt you the most… (Y/n), are you trying to say that if you had remained compliant, your parents would still be alive?”

“I know it’s ridiculous. I should know better, yet my mind kept drifting back to it. I just… never mind.” You shake your head, wanting to change the subject. “When should we set up the meeting?”

“As soon as we know Sokolov’s next move and we know where your contacts stand.”

“What are the chances of the High Table working with us on this?”

Nastya sighed. “I’m sure they’re looking into the incident right now. If they call in a meeting with the other members of the Table, I’ll try to mention it, but they will want Rozaliya to answer for agreeing to help Sokolov in the first place.”

“Understandable. We just need our case to be strong.”

“Having John Wick with us would make it harder though,” Rozaliya said.

“Then we don’t tell them about John,” you countered with a shrug.

Rozaliya grimaced, looking towards Nastya for her input. Nastya folded her hands on her lap and let out a long breath. “It’s not going to be easy. We’re already risking it by speaking with him. Associating with an excommunicated assassin isn’t going to help our case,” she said.

“So what you’re saying is to leave him out of this,” you said, frowning.

“I appreciate that after coming back that you’d help with this Sokolov problem and want the High Table rules to be amended,” Nastya said slowly, “but what are you gaining in taking revenge on the High Table with John Wick?”

“I…,” you trailed off.

John was the one that brought you out of the Instructor’s hold, helping you remember and retraining your brain to be even better than its original condition. John and the Bowery King approached you with the idea of helping them and you had no personal qualms with the Table until the problem presented itself to you. After John tried to confront Caius on his own, the both of you agreed to communicate any future plans of that nature. To suddenly exclude John from your plans…

“I’ll let you think about it,” Nastya said, standing up, “I think you should take a step back and think of what you want, disregarding where we and John stand. You’ve had people telling you what to do and watching your every move for most of your life. Think about yourself and for yourself this time. Now, I should go and wait for news from the High Table.”

She walked towards the door, smoothing the back of Rozaliya’s head as she passed. Rozaliya briefly leaned into her touch and gave her a small smile. Once Nastya left, she turned the TV off and turned back to you.

“I know that you and John had grown attached, but I really want you to think about it, okay?” she said.

You nodded.

“I’m sorry, my friend. I wished we had reunited in better circumstances and I would have liked to see you safe and happy.”

“Maybe safe and happy doesn’t exist for people like us.”

Rozaliya gave a tight smile, wanting to disagree, but thought better of it. She had no proof that it did unless you played the game of power and deceit, which would only give you a shield, but not true happiness or protection. Instead, she pulled you in for a hug, resting her chin on your shoulder. In this world of criminals and assassins, friendship is one of the most valuable things a person could have and the both of you need it right now.

Things became more complicated with the reveal of Sokolov’s plans. The mission was no longer attacking the High Table, but stopping Sokolov from crumbling the Underworld to the ground. John was tempted to shoot Sokolov when he had the chance, but knowing that there were other syndicates allying themselves with him and would surely hunt him down. As much as John was good at hunting, he barely made it out alive the moment he was excommunicado.

The Soup Kitchen where the Bowery King and his people hid never felt like a safe haven, but coming back to it now made John’s nerves on edge. The Bowery King was particular about who he associated with and prideful for what he had single handedly accomplished. If things don’t go his way, he’ll shift his alliance and he would have no further use for you or John.

The vans outside of the Soup Kitchen already rings alarm bells. In the eyes of a casual bystander, they could be anything from maintenance or shipping supplies at an old building in the bowery district, but for those who knew better, it meant that the Bowery King was up to something. Whoever parked those vans in front either wants to stir up trouble or they have no idea what they’re dealing with. Possibly both.

He double checked the straps of his hidden blade before proceeding with caution. Approaching the entrance, two Bowery Boys were guarding the area, leaning against the cold brick walls and holding out empty mugs. They looked up and nodded at John, using their eyes to permit him entrance. The deeper he went, the more people he saw, going about their routines and making do with what the Adjudicator had not taken away from them. An errand boy of sorts, one that had frequently helped you in rounding up the correspondents of your allies, walked up to John.

“There’s something in the workshop that you should see first, Mr. Wick,” he said, turning without checking if he’d follow.

They made their way towards your makeshift workshop, the young man being the only one that you trusted to the keys and code of the door. He opened the door for John and held it for him to go in. John nodded, trudging in before turning back to him. He gestured to the desk before closing the door behind him. The young man positioned himself in front of the door, a gun tucked away beneath his tattered trench coat.

John heard a rustle from the corner, his hands reaching out for the desk lamp to reveal Cerberus waiting for him. The pitbull whined, bounding towards him with his tail wagging. John crouched down to pet him, wondering why Cerberus was locked in here.

He straightened out and searched your desk for anything out of the ordinary, using his blade to unlock the only sealed drawer, your blueprints and ideas tucked away. Underneath those, were a small stack of paper, all with different handwriting, and a scrawled note that said “Fridge Vault”.

John pulled everything out and skimmed through the papers, finding that they were responses from your contacts. Why were they kept here and you weren’t notified? He rifled through the scraps lying around and found a small bag for the papers.

There was a series of knocks, a tap code. Someone was coming. John quickly tucked the bag in his jacket and fitted Cerberus with the utility vest. He scanned the desk for anything else useful and found a wristwatch similar to your own. He put it on and led Cerberus to the door.

“About time I heard from you, John Wick,” the Bowery King said.

“There’s been a few complications,” John replied.

Four men in black suits walked up from behind and pointed their guns at him. Gavriil Sokolov strutted forward with a smirk, standing next to the Bowery King.

“And things are about to get even more complicated.”

Taglist: @venusgothic @weappreciatepower @anita-e-taylor @mikaneonox @sparrowsparrow @introvertedmegalomaniac @tomhardy41 @xmisssnowwhitex @red-pill-blue-pill

#John Wick #John Wick x Reader #John wick imagines #Persephone #Persephone P10 #keanu reeves imagines #Keanu Reeves #Im actually nervous posting again guys #I don't have the same energy as I had when I first started this series #But I hope that I was able to do it justice #I wanted to balance it in a way that when they gain an ally new conflict emerges

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geekkatsblog · 3 years

Text

Making my heart race for 45 minutes every week season 17x5 or like everyone else likes to call it Grey's Anatomy.

"A VERY LONG BUT IMPROTANT PART TO READ BELOW."

Now before I get started I was idly scrolling through Instagram instead of studying like I was supposed to and I was recommended a Grey's Anatomy confession site to torture myself (because most of the time I feel irrationally sad after reading when I see my faves being bashed) and I was a good few confessions in when I noticed that someone had taken a part of lasts weeks review word for word and submitted it. I never really thought I would have to but I beg please don't do that. Confession sites tend to make my heart race and when I realized it was my words that were used I was already in the comments, none of my opinions in these are final so I'd rather not have my words posted anywhere else where people can't see the complete picture. Its definitely fine to use it as inspiration but Please do not post my reviews anywhere else, or at least ask first.

*Now finally onto the review*

All in all the episode was like I expected in terms of outcomes however Grey's has got to come up with another genetic disorder besides Alzheimers, because this is yet another doctor with the gene. Not much happened besides the main event so let's hope I don't talk all over myself again.

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Catherine Fox and Jackson Avery

Refuses to wear the mask like the pig headed woman she is. Her especially should take no risks because as it was pointed out in the episode she is immunocompromised. She didn't actually appear in person but I thought I would mention her part in the episode because it gave us Richard and Jackson scenes which I have grown to love and appreciate because they're always wholesome the one they had tonight on systematic racism was great and one that I hope managed to educate viewers on the situation. It's great to see Jackson have someone there who has a parent figure there to listen calmly. Catherine as great of a mother as she is in my opinion sometimes she can come across as an eccentric aunt. I'm glad Richad managed to tame the wildcat and convince her to wear a mask with his sexual promises. We've lost enough Grey Sloan staff and family from it so far.

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Meredith

A hopefully temporary resident at the fake beach where nothing is real. Unfortunately there were no new visitors at the beach. Like I stated last week, I'm not entirely sure if we'll see anymore of the greats such as Mark Sloan, Lexie ect but there's still a chance next week although it seems like she might be waking up, but like I always say with Grey's expect the unexpected She may or may not be out of the deep end yet but I'm just thankful for the few glimpses we got to see George and Derek grace our screens again the nostalgia was great. However as much as I enjoyed seeing them again, I want Meredith to wake up I miss her, she may not be as fun and quirky as she used to be in the earlier seasons but without her working in the hospital it's hard to deny that something's missing from the episodes.

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TEDDY / OWEN/ TOM

(Here we go again.) 😔

This triangle has been going strong for a long time almost too long, and once again they flipped the switch its always back and forth. A few episodes ago she was begging Owen for forgiveness and now she's telling Tom they have a future. I feel like she needs some time to process what she's really feeling most of the time it seems like she's confused and fair enough it all happened so fast the time between her being with Tom and Owen expressing his still lingering feelings to her but now she needs to make sure that the decision she makes now is the one she actually intends to stick with.

On another note Tom seems to be out of the woods, for now at least which is great when he asked for his son I was a little concerned for a bit I wasn't sure if he was really going to make it. He's a douche and a hard ass but he has the potential to have a great character development, so I'm glad he got another chance. And my comments about wanting Helm to be his new protege remains in that small scene they had last week something just clicked with me and there's also the fact that she wanted to treat him despite the risks.

Owen was here as a filler basically, and to reinforce the love triangle again.

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Jo Wilson

Is thinking of switching specialties, if Ben can do it like changing sweaters why can't she switch? I do think it will be a good fit for her the way she has been fawning over the babies of recent it was either that or give her one of her own which in my opinion I don't think she's ready for. But even in all of the excitement I can't help but think that she's only looking at the cupcake and rainbow side for now because although it's awesome being the first one to hold the babies and everything, not every delivery goes well sometimes the babies don't make it or in other cases the mothers die I hope she's ready to face that side of the package as well.

Just mentioning as well that I love the friendship between her and Schmitt. It was an unexpected but pleasant pairing one of which I'm looking forward to seeing more of in the long run.

On the other hand if Jo switches this gives us more of a chance to see Carina as well because she was signed on a a series regular yet we don't get to see her enough except for on Station 19 and on there she's only Maya's girlfriend. I hope it changes soon and they give her more of a plot or something.

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Amelia/Link

Not much relationship content other than Link finding out about her and Koracick's fling and he took her going into the hospital before the end of her maternity leave quite well. They are one of the healthier relationships in Grey's. Right now at least things always get trickier later.

I'm glad she went in though it let Koracick know that he still had people who care about him and she managed to make Teddy who everyone was treating like garbage as well feel a little better.

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Maggie

No Winston today but we got a lot of Maggie content which was great. She was the moral support once again but today I was fine with it I always enjoy her moments with Bailey and at least she was able to be there for her seeing that Ben was MIA and Webber was busy taking care of her patients along with Jackson. Once again a very needed conversation between her and Bailey and I loved that she still went to comfort her despite the fact that rehashing her own mother's death had to be painful to do.

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Bailey

(Thanks for ruining My Girl for me Grey's now instead of feeling happy I'll forever think of Bailey saying goodbye to her mother.)

We all know that whenever Bailey starts spouting out her feelings and asking for help and advice things are about to go down.

Before we get completely into it I'd just like to express my disappointment in the fact that Ben literally dropped everything took the aid car to save his in laws no questions asked then dropped off his mother in law at the hospital with Covid and left his wife who has anxiety without even checking in. I know he's a first responder as well and he isn't allowed into the hospital that easily either but geeze no other phone calls or messages to check in?. He better have been stuck putting out a huge fire or something equally as bad, besides being him being hurt himself at least.

Another foot note to appreciate Bailey primping before her facetiming with Ben. Go get it hun. Their relationship be cute as usual.

Then the big revel her, mother has dementia, yet another doctor with the alzheimers gene. The moment between her and Meredith was heartwarming to be honest it's a foreign thing seeing them so close and having life conversations still but it's something I hope we get to see often they've had them as semi rivals/ semi friends long enough.

It was hard to see her have to say goodbye and the fact that her father couldn't be there to tell his wife any final words and be there to hold her as she passed made it worse, his wife that he was married to and loved for so long had to die without the comfort of her husband by her side and her daughter could barely hold her hand because of the bulk of her suit, then one of the saddest parts was that she possibly didn't even know what was happening to her. But thankfully Bailey could have been there to sing to her and keep her calm, a lot of people don't even get that much of a chance during the pandemic their loved ones die alone.

The moment I saw the conversation with her dad and the way she was only half listening I knew she was going to blame herself at some point over what happened, it remains to be seen if Maggie's speech worked or if she's going to continue to blame herself. Like I stated before I love the conversation her and Maggie had. One of the reasons why I haven't stepped off the Grey's Carousel is because they touch on topics that others don't cross they aren't afraid to touch the important and controversial things.

I was too being sad over her mothers death at first but I also want to talk about her and Webber's friendship he immediately postponed everything to be there for her, he took over her workload and still made sure he was there in time to be there and support her when she watched her mother flat line.

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The pandemic has always been real to me but somehow seeing the names of those that passed at the end was surreal I found myself just staring at the screen for a few minutes later reflecting on everything.

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Next week is the winter finale and I have no idea how it could get anymore dramatic than it already is. There's been so much already but Grey's always manages to surprise me. Then after that episode it's back to nothing until March 😭😭😭.

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overheardatthecontinental · 3 years

Link

“Is the Manager in?”

“The Manager is always in.” Charon responds as he always does, blinking at the sight of John Wick. When he had left the Continental, less than an hour ago, he seemed calm and resigned. Now, he appeared frazzled, although there were no apparent marks or injuries bruising the assassin. “He retired to his private chambers—”

John Wick nodded and set a handful of coins on the counter that he had taken from the trunk of his car. “I need a room—no accommodations, just standard mission prep.”

The mission prep rooms were used more for local assassins. They came equipped with top of the line technology, as well as space for maps and guides, weapons assembly and cleaning.

“I also need the Technician sent to the room immediately. I need a phone traced yesterday.”

“I’ll make sure to send him to your room once he’s finished with—”

John cuts off Charon. He’ll apologize later, he decides, but there isn’t fucking time. “I’m calling in Sante Fe. I need him now.”

Charon blinks, surprise evident on his face, but he nods. “Of course, Mister Wick.” He reaches back and grabs a lower key off a hook and hands it over, “Shall I direct the Manager to your room?”

“Please. And the Sommelier.” John grabs the key and departs, taking long strides down the hall.

John rarely used the rooms set for mission prep unless he was on a time sensitive case that didn't allow for trips back and forth over the river. He unlocked the room and stared at the expanse.

There was much to do but nothing that he could start until he got a trace on her phone. He doubted this new enemy would make things easy for him. They probably already had the signal blocked but he had to try. The only other hope was that Winston would know something. The Manager had an ear to the ground in every part of New York City.

John tosses the key to one of the tables and starts pacing.

Whoever wanted Lorenzo and the D’Antonio siblings killed would benefit from the Camorra collapsing. Of course, that included everyone the Camorra held something over, lesser Italian mobs, and the other eleven assholes who held seats at the High Table.

Bullshit politics, he thinks.

Somebody had followed him, watched him to analyze his weaknesses. And they had taken Helen over bullshit politics.

John grabs the chair that sits in front of one of the tables and throws it across the room. The wall cracks under the weight before the chair snaps into a handful of pieces.

“That was an antique, Jonathan.”

“I’ll pay for damages.” He says, not caring, as he turns. Winston stares at him, looking him up and down. John doesn’t give him a chance to comment on his, likely, pathetic posture. “I need a list of everyone who wants Lorenzo D’Antonio dead.”

Winston stares at him in disbelief, “Half of the Camorra want Lorenzo D’Antonio dead. His children want him dead. Most of New York, the entirety of the Sicilian Mafia, the Triad, the Bravta—“

John shakes his head, “I’m looking for an individual, aside from his children. Someone would benefit from the collapse of the Camorra.”

“Again, the list is nearly endless. I would indirectly benefit from collapse of the Camorra. But the point is moot, to act against Lorenzo is to act against the High Table itself.”

John exhales a breath. He was afraid that would be the case.

He opens his phone and looks at his messages again. From Helen’s work phone, a picture of her had been sent. She looked like she was sleeping but he knew she was sedated.

Her hands were bound in front of her and while she seemed largely okay, there were bruises forming on her arms. Her bare arms, exposed by her nightgown. And in that state of undress, they had her on a cement floor.

If Winston didn’t know, and the Technician couldn’t trace the phone, he would have no choice but to go after Lorenzo. He would face whatever backlash there was with the knowledge that Helen would be safe.

Unless, the unknown enemy didn’t keep up their end of the bargain…

Winston clears his throat, “You’ve never shown an interest in Underworld politics.”

“No.” John says, still staring at the screen. “Winston, I need you to dig as quietly as you can. Anybody who’s challenged the Camorra over the last… I don’t know, three years. Open challenges, rumors of trying to find someone to take a contract against Lorenzo.”

“Jonathan,” Winston steps forward, cautiously asking, “are you going to try to kill Lorenzo D’Antonio?”

If I have to.

“I’ve been asked to.”

Winston’s frown deepens “Conspiring to kill a member of the High Table is enough to get you stripped of services!”

John inclines his head, “I’m well aware of the rules, Winston. And I’d rather not have to kill Lorenzo but the matter is complicated.”

“In what way is it complicated?”

John hesitates. He had been stupid to think he could keep Helen safe from the Underworld. And while he had hoped to never reveal her existence to anyone, it was too late for that. He had, unwittingly, involved her.

Winston would disapprove, he already knew.

“I’m being blackmailed, and I’m not sure by who, but someone” I love “very dear to me is being threatened if I don’t.”

His mentor swears. “You know better than to get involved with someone not of our world.”

“I do.” John agrees.

Again, Winston swears.

“I have no inclination to kill the D’Antonio’s, but if I can’t find out who has her, where she is… I will.”

“You can’t act against the High Table—”

John says nothing but raises a brow.

Winston knows him better than anyone, save Helen. The older assassin took John under his wing in John’s early days in the Underworld. He offered guidance and advice, impressed with John’s skill but devastated by his lack of ambition.

Looking back, his relationship with Winston was the most consistent in his life.

So Winston knows, better than most, just how reckless John Wick is willing to be.

Looking defeated, Winston shakes his head, “No woman is worth your life.”

John snorts, “She’s worth a hell of a lot more than my life.”

There’s a knock on the door and John answers it. The Technician, looking rather frazzled, comes in with a large backpack and two smaller briefcases.

“Charon said I was needed.”

John takes out his phone again and unlocks it. “I recently received a call from this contact. I need their phone traced remotely, as fast as you can. It’s likely they’re expecting a trace.”

The Technician takes the phone over to one of the table, “Do you know who the phone is registered to? It’ll be easier if I can track their SIM card. They likely dumped the phone itself to disable the GPS”

“Helen Kingston.”

“Know when she bought it?”

John shakes his head, “No, but it might have been charged to her work account.”

“Where does she work?”

John barely holds back a wince because if Winston was annoyed before, he was about to become really pissed off. “New York City Counseling Associates.”

He can practically hear the steam coming out of Winston’s ears.

“Jonathan, please tell me your girlfriend is not a therapist.”

“My girlfriend’s not a therapist.” Not a lie.

She wasn’t his girlfriend. Just his therapist.

The Technician asked as he plugged in a laptop, “You know her social?”

He probably shouldn’t, but he does. He recites the digits and looks up to see Winston staring at him incredulously.

“Jonathan, who is this woman to you?”

John looks back down, watching as the Technician opens the file attached with Helen’s social security number. Newspaper clippings mentioning her pop-up, along with her transcripts going from Kindergarten all the way through graduate school. Her bank statements, along with every credit card assigned to her.

“Jonathan!”

John doesn’t look up, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, Winston.”

“Please tell me that she’s not your—"

There’s another knock on the door and John, gratefully, steps away from the table and from Winston.

The Sommelier arrives with a room service table on wheels, covered with a white sheet that John knows from experience will have a variety of weapons.

He pushes the door further open and allows the woman entrance.

“Mister Wick.” She greets.

“Rita.”

“Charon was unsure of what you needed so I brought an assortment for you to try.”

“I appreciate that. Unfortunately, I’m currently unsure of what I’ll need. Versatility is a must.”

“Jonathan!” Winston says again, “Please excuse us, Rita, Karl, I need to speak to Mister Wick in the other room.”

Fuck.

John sighs, looking to the Technician, “If the phone rings from that, or any unknown number, get me immediately.”

“Of course, Mister Wick.”

John follows Winston to the back room.

It consists of a combined kitchenette unit with a coffee pot, microwave, and sink along with a twin-sized bed to nap or rest before missions.

John closes the door and crosses his arms.

He can practically hear Helen telling him to stop looking so defensive.

Winston stands by the counter and runs a hand through his greying hair. “Tell me that you’re not about to go to war with the High Table over your fucking therapist.”

John says nothing.

“Jonathan.”

“You told me not to tell you.”

Winston swears again, the anger and disdain dripping from his colorful language. John waits for him to get it out of his system. If he didn’t need Winston for this, he might have just walked away. He considers it in the moment but if the Tech can’t locate that phone, Winston might be his only shot at figuring out who had her.

But he could handle Winston, so long as he made it about the D’Antonio’s.

Finally, the old man shakes his head, “What the hell were you thinking?”

He isn’t sure what to say.

It’s been seven months and John’s note entirely sure what he was thinking, going into session that first day.

She had given him comfort that day in the café. The only comfort he could really remember ever receiving.

He knew therapy was pointless for someone like him, but he’d called her… just to hear her voice one more time.

But she had sucked him in, convinced him to come see her again and he had been done for.

What had he been thinking?

That Helen’s eyes reminded him of the forests in Belarus. That her smile was worth more than an eternity of sunny days. That she had railroaded him with kindness until he wasn’t sure who he was anymore.

That if someone like Helen could see the good in him… maybe he wasn’t all bad.

His intentions, of course, are marked by his selfishness.

It never should have gotten to this point.

He had been careful, making sure that he left no trace behind on the nights he snuck into her bedroom to watch her sleep. But he hadn’t been careful enough.

He was so focused on Helen, he stopped looking over his shoulder.

And now, she was paying the price.

Winston opens his mouth and John cuts him off before he can be berated, “I don’t have an answer for you, Winston. I fucked up.”

“Clearly.” Winston shakes his head, then loudly spits out, “Therapy. Do you lay on a couch and talk about your childhood?”

John rolls his eyes. This is what Helen would call mental health stigma.

“Why do you need therapy?” Winston asks, the disgust clear in his voice.

Again, he has no answer.

At least, no answer that Winston would accept.

There was a laundry list of reasons that John needed therapy. There was probably one, equally as long, as why Winston would benefit from therapy. But Winston wouldn’t see it that way.

Before he started to see Helen, John probably would have agreed with him.

“I’m not sure if this helps,” John says, “But I only started going because she was attractive.”

Physically, mentally, emotionally. John had been an eager moth to her flame.

“If she’s attractive, you ask her to dinner. You fuck her. You get her out of your system and get your head back into the game. You don’t complain to her about your issues! But now we have some civilian out there, with no knowledge of our world, being held hostage and—"

“She knows.”

The weight of those words rests on Winston and he stops his rant, suddenly going very still.

“What?”

“She knows. About all of this.”

“You told,” Winston repeated, “a fucking mandated reporter that you’re an assassin?”

John nods once.

Winston’s eyes seem to pop as he stares at John.

“I know I’ve already asked this, so forgive me the repetition, but what the fuck were you thinking?” Winston all but screams.

“She won’t talk.”

“Oh, are you sure about that?”

“Yes.” John says with a sense of finality, “Even with this…” he withholds a shudder, again remembering the picture of her bound and sedated on a cold, cement floor, “I trust her.”

“Clearly.” Winston snarls, “But there is a reason we don’t advertise our services to the world! Every single person who learns about the Underworld, in any respect, is supposed to be reported to your local Adjudication services.”

“You know I don’t give a fuck about S.O.P’s.” And before Winston can reply, John raises his voice slightly, “But you also know that I don’t trust easily. Helen’s not going to go running to the media or even the police. The moment she figures out what’s going on…” John shakes his head, wondering if she’s even awake yet, “she’ll know I’m coming for her.”

Winston continues to glare but John holds his gaze. He still looks furious but his posture softens, “Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

Winston lets out a sigh and shakes his head. “You always did take things to the extremes.” Winston mutters, “John Wick gets a hard-on and burns New York City to the ground. Unbelievable.”

In a moment, the air between them had changed. The tension disappeared, even if the disapproval remained.

“Lorenzo and Gianna arrive in the city tomorrow night. Santino is already here. I’ve been given three days to kill them all.” He’s never been good at asking for anything but he finds himself ready and willing to beg, “Winston, I need you to find out who has her. I have no desire to start a war with the High Table and the Camorra, but have no doubt, I will if I have to.”

“It may take time.”

“A luxury we don’t have. If we can’t find whoever is pulling the strings by the time they arrive tomorrow night, I will kill them.”

“I need more than a day, Jonathan. You have through the weekend.”

“I’m not leaving Helen that long.”

“At least, give me until Saturday night.” The Manager compromises, “I’ll do my best. I’ll begin right now, but right now, our only lead is someone who would benefit from the collapse of the Camorra. It isn’t much to go on.”

“Then let’s hope the Technician can pinpoint a location.”

…

She wakes up shaking before she even opens her eyes. Her bed is hard and icy and her covers are no longer tucked around her.

And then it comes rushing back. Waking up to a hand around her mouth and the glint of a needle. A momentary struggle and then nothingness.

Her mouth is dry, her limbs feel heavy.

Even opening her eyes is a struggle but Helen forces them open. All of the sudden, she is very awake.

She’s on her side, still in her nightgown, which gratefully reached her knees. She’s lying on a concrete floor. Iron bars reach from the cold floor up to the ceiling above her, caging her in a box. She uses her bound hands to push up to a sitting position to get a better look around.

The cell itself is empty, save a small stall in the corner that she really hopes contains a bathroom.

Outside of the cell is a spacious unfinished basement. There are mats on the opposite corner, covering the ground. Two punching bags hang from the rafters.

In front of her, two men sit playing cards on a rickety, foldaway table.

There’s a moment of blinding terror, her heart racing in her chest as she takes in her new surroundings. And then there is an eerie wave of calm.

She knows herself well enough to accept her weaknesses for what they are. Physically, she probably can’t put up too much of a fight. She doesn’t have the skill. It occurs to her that she may not even be able to throw a proper punch.

But she’s not useless, either.

She clears her throat, wincing as the action scratches at the dryness.

“Would one of you like to call whoever’s in charge?” She rasps out.

They exchange a look and the one on the left says, “I’m in charge.”

Helen surveys him. If she had to guess, she’d put him in his late twenties. His pants are baggy with tears she can make out from where she sat and he was wearing a sweatshirt.

This wasn’t a random kidnapping, she knew. This was planned. Well thought out. Someone who knew her schedule and learning routine took time. Then, they had sedated her. It was too organized, too clean.

This was about John.

And that kid sitting, playing cards probably had no idea the kind of monster he had just set loose by taking her.

She hums, “Maybe in the room, but not of the operation.” Helen pushes herself back so she can lean against the wall, “Call your boss, honey.”

“Listen, little bitch,” he pushes back from the table and steps over to the iron bars, taunting, “I own you right now.” He tugs a gun loose from the back of his pants, “I could kill you just like that! So how about you show me a little respect.”

“No, you listen, kid.” She forces herself up to her knees and then wobbles to her feet, “You point that thing at me, and we’re going to have a problem. If your boss,” she emphasizes, “wanted me dead, I would have been dead in my bed. No, he took me because he needs me. Alive and unharmed.

“Now, I’ll take pity on you because you’re young and you probably have no idea who you are messing with right now.” And she was certain that neither of her current jailors would stand a chance against John Wick, “So how about you call your boss, and let the grown-ups talk? Hmm?”

She’s dealt with enough pissed off clients to know when to stand her ground and when to back down. And she would be damned if she backed down from a guy who would probably trip running from the cops because he wouldn’t tie his damned laces.

And then he turns away, glaring and tucking his gun back into his pants. He grabs a phone off the table.

Helen closes her eyes and breathes.

Her head is pounding but that truly is the least of her worries.

“She’s awake.” The kid tells whoever’s on the other line. “She wants to speak to the boss.”

The kid hums along to whatever is being said on the other end. He is clearly cut off at the end, pulling the phone from his ear and looking mildly disappointed.

Disillusion amongst the ranks? She wonders. She can work with that.

He shoots her a glare, “He’s coming.”

Helen nods her thanks and rubs at her eyes. Even now that she is awake, her lids still feel heavy. Her body, lethargic. Sore. Cold. She backs up to the wall and slides down to a sitting position.

Her body feels overly tense and she wonders if that’s a side effect of the drug, the cold, or the trauma. Or a mix of all three.

The kid is still standing, which leads her to believe that her actual captor is somewhere in the building. At the very least, nearby.

Sure enough, she hears footsteps coming down the stairs.

He’s not too much older than the boys guarding her but she’d place him in his late thirties. Dark hair, dark eyes. A pleasant smile as he regards her with interest. He’s well-dressed and walks with the assurance that comes from having everything in life handed to you.

“Hello, Miss Kingston.”

“How long have I been here?” She asks and that seems to set him aback.

The man tilts his head. “Do you know who I am?”

“Can’t say I’m interested.” She retorts, “How long have I been here?”

His lips quirk in a daring smile, “You’re not the least bit curious about who I am or why you’re here?”

“I can guess the why. John Wick pissed you off. Or you need him for something no one else could possibly handle. Vengeance, blackmail, I don’t really give a shit. And knowing your name, who you are… it won’t matter because unless you let me go right now, John is going to hunt you down and disembowel you. So let me ask you again, how long have I been here?”

She can vaguely see his two minions staring at her wide-eyed in the background. It occurs to her that maybe she shouldn’t be talking to this stranger like this but what is he going to do? To shoot her, to hurt her would be suicide by angry assassin.

But their leader just smirks, “And all this time, I thought you were just a pretty face. You’re a delight. To answer your question, cara mia, it’s nearly noon.”

She went to bed at ten.

And John, bless his heart, was never as subtle as he thought he was.

He would have been there sometime after midnight for his nightly stalking habits that she pretended she didn’t know about.

“He knows I’m missing.”

“Yes.” He says, “I spoke to him last night. He was quite distraught.”

Helen shakes her head in disbelief. His calmness was unsettling because either he didn’t know what John was capable of or he somehow thought himself above it. She guessed the latter, “I don’t know what you need John for. Between us, I don’t really care. But you need to think long and hard about if this is really your best idea.”

Her captor only smiles, “While your concern is touching, I’m not worried.”

“Then you’re a fool. He won’t let you walk away after this.”

“He won’t have a choice. By the time Wick completes what he needs to, he’ll find himself too entrapped by politics to be able to hunt me down. His precious therapist will be freed, and he will be consumed by the punishment for his actions.

“I suppose,” he inclines his head, “I have you to thank for all this. You entrapped John Wick. I entrapped you. And now the world will be at my fingertips.”

Helen knew she didn’t fully understand Underworld politics but she was certain that this man was vastly overplaying his hand.

“The Camorra will fall. Italia will be mine. And all because John Wick made the mistake of falling in love.”

She swallows but tries not to let it show.

Because she knew. Of course she knew.

She knew John better than anybody. Half the time, she knew what he was thinking before he did.

Helen wasn’t immune to the longing stares he thought he hid so well. She wasn’t blind to the midnight visits John paid her, at first only once or twice a week, until it steadily increased to a nightly guardianship.

And she wasn’t stupid enough to think that no one was ever going to figure it out. A part of her even expected this. At the very least, she wasn’t surprised to find herself kidnapped and held hostage at the whim of one of John’s enemies.

“A therapist.” The man shakes his head, amused, “Tell me, whatever does John Wick cry to you about?”

John hadn’t been kidding about the misplaced misogyny in his world, as well as the unfettered arrogance. This was ridiculous.

She had dealt with ridiculous men before and, while this one clearly believed himself to be special, she wasn’t above doing what she did best.

Helen exhaled, assessing the best she could in her weakened state.

Now was not the time for mistakes.

She took in the suit.

The manner in which he presented himself.

His demeanor.

His attitude.

His actions.

An obvious neophyte in way over his head.

In a position of power that obviously didn’t belong to him, convinced he was far better than he was.

Certainty was never possible, but it was worth the gamble. “Does your mother know that it was you that killed your father?” She asks.

Immediately, the cocky smile vanishes from her captor. “What?” He growls out.

“She struggled to conceive, didn’t she? You were her little miracle baby. Thank fuck you were a son so she didn’t have to go through that again. Daddy needed his heir, didn’t he?”

Bullseye.

“And your father was appeased, for a while. But then you grew older. Not so good at the physical stuff, were you? It must have been confusing, never being able to meet your father’s expectations while your mother insisted that you were perfect in every way.”

“You must think you’re very clever, Miss Kingston--”

“But not as clever as you.” She quips, “Your father tried to teach you to run the business, but years of your mother’s coddling made you soft.”

“Shut up.”

“For years, you trained. You did what he asked. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough. You just couldn’t take it anymore so you killed him. Well,” Helen pauses, “You had him killed. Wouldn’t want to mess up that manicure, would we? Which leads me again, to my first question. What I can’t figure out. Does your mother know that it was you who killed your father?”

She’s met with utter silence. His two minions are staring at her in stunned disbelief. Her captor, however, is fuming. She can feel the rage, the humiliation pouring off him in waves.

Helen inclines her head, “Unless, oh, honey,” she makes a sympathetic face, “Did mommy kill daddy for you?”

“Nick!” A long string of Italian follows the name and the minion who hadn’t threatened her with a gun nods, frantically, before running across the room.

She looks back to the man in charge, “I prefer to counsel in my office, but I can make an exception if you want to start talking through your mommy issues. I won’t even charge you, considering you’ll be dead in a week anyway.”

Nick runs back over with capped needle and Helen resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Here Mister DeLuca.”

Well, now she had a name.

“Seriously?” She gestures around at the cell, “I can’t even walk six feet in any direction, and you’re going to sedate me? If you didn’t want to talk about your mommy issues, you could just say so. Sometimes, we need to build up to the bigger things.”

Her door was unlocked, and it kills her but she doesn’t move or try for escape. She’s still too tired from the last cocktail of sedatives they loaded her with.

The kid, Nick, comes in and Helen idly offers her arm.

Do what you want, she thinks, it won’t stop the storm that’s coming.

“You’re right about one thing.” Helen says, “I am John Wick’s therapist. Which means I know John better than anyone. I know what he’s willing to compromise on and what he’ll hunt you down until the ends of the Earth over.”

Nick grabs her arm, holding it tight as if he’s expecting her to start to struggle as he uncaps the needle with his teeth.

“He’s going to tear you apart.”

The needle pierces her skin.

“So I’ll ask you again. Are you really sure this is your best idea?”

It doesn’t take long for the sedative to run its course but she holds DeLuca’s gaze until the world grows fuzzy.

...................

Taglist: @greenmanalishi, @cynic-spirit

#john wick #helen wick #Winston (John Wick)#charon (john wick)#the sommelier #john x helen wick #helen x john wick #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic #overheard at the continental #the matrix has queue #fanfic

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creampuffqueen · 5 years

Text

The Anarchy Sisters- Chapter Two

I should be sleeping, but I apparently have transformed into Insomnia, because I’m seriously not tired at all. Anyway, here’s the next chapter, and I hope you all enjoy it!

Read on Ao3 here!

~~~~

Chapter Two-

“Phantom, do you have a good visual? We’ve got five minutes and counting, tell us now if you need to move.”

Ingrid’s voice crackled over the headset that Evie Artino had connected inconspicuously to her ear. The eleven-year-old girl was perched on the roof of an abandoned office complex, face hidden behind a mask as she waited.

This mission had been in the works for months. And now, they had one shot to get it right. She shifted slightly, looking over the edge of the roof to the streets below.

“I’m clear. Nightmare, how’s it going up there?” Evie was part of this really only for damage control. And by damage control, making sure that if everything went right, Ingrid didn’t bring down half the buildings in the city with her bombs. It was Nightmare who was getting the shot. Or, as Evie knew her, Nova. Her big sister.

“I’m nearly in position. Two minutes, tops.” Evie peeked further over the edge, where the sidewalks were lined with rows and rows of screaming, adoring, mindless fans.

The colors were bright and chaotic, and there were countless kids, children even older than her, who were dressed up in superhero costumes to look like the Renegades. It was sickening. How could they not realize just how toxic all of this was?

The first of the parade floats came into view, accompanied by screams and shouts of joy. A team of Renegades threw candy into the throngs of people, like monarchs throwing gold coins at peasants as they passed.

“Nightmare?”

“Calm down, I’m on my way.” Another float was coming around the corner, bearing more flashy prodigies for the people to worship. Evie kept her gaze pinpointed at the corner, waiting for the right moment. Across the street she knew that Phobia waited, and Ingrid was just a few buildings down. Nova was waiting further down, at a location and position they’d spent countless hours calculating. She would have seconds, if that.

And of course, she’d only have that time if she got there when she was supposed to. Evie couldn’t help feeling nervous; after all, if this went wrong, they could likely all be arrested and taken away.

The next float pulled around the corner, this one containing a group of Renegades with extra limbs or extremities, for the people to gawk and awe over. Evie counted the seconds it took the float to pull all the way around the corner and for the next one to appear.

34 seconds, more or less. Leroy and Nova had done their research and math well. She twiddled her thumbs as she kept counting, kept calculating and reciting formulas in her head. The floats had to be on time- if they weren’t, if they were early, it would spell disaster.

“Nightmare.” This time it was Phobia who spoke. “Where are you? You’ve got 49 seconds to get in position now.”

“I’m getting there.” Nova’s voice crackled over the headset, scratching Evie’s ears from the inside out.

Evie crossed her fingers and bounced on the balls of her feet, trying to do something, anything, to keep her from losing it here on the roof. She had to make it. She had to, so that way everything would be good again, like it should. So the people could be free, and think for themselves, and the Renegades reign would end-

“10 seconds, Nightmare.” Ingrid’s voice shook with barely contained anger and frustration. Evie trembled in her too-small boots, wrapping her arms around herself and squeezing. Trying to keep her nerves inside her, so she wouldn’t distract Nova, so she’d get there in time-

A deafening roar came from the crowds below, so loud that Evie instinctively clapped her hands over her ears. She glanced down, watching the Council’s float pull around the corner.

They were all on pedestals, parading like kings and queens. Captain Chromium flexing, Blacklight creating fireworks of pure light, Thunderbird spreading her wings and summoning flashes of lightning. People screamed and cheered, and even from the height she was at, Evie could see the adoration on their faces. It was disgusting.

“I’m in position.” Nova’s voice over the headset startled Evie, enough that she stumbled. She caught herself before she fell over into the street, but her mask slipped from her face and clattered onto the sidewalk.

Evie cursed softly, backing away from the edge. If anyone saw that- oh, she’d be in so much trouble.

Out of the corner of her eye, Evie saw the blur of a dart, shot from a roof across the street. She held her breath as it sailed through the air, headed dead-on for its target: Captain Chromium’s eye.

But he turned his head. Just barely, hardly an inch. It was enough, though. The metal dart bounced harmlessly off his skin, and everyone in the crowd screamed.

Evie shrank further down on the roof, listening to Nova’s curses crackle through the headset. The connection was sputtering, hissing in her ears as the other Anarchists joined in.

“Scatter.” Phobia demanded. “Scatter, meet back in the tunnels later. They’ll be searching the whole place in a matter of minutes.”

“Phantom, come with me.” Ingrid demanded. Evie picked herself up from the concrete and ran to the opposite edge from before. Ingrid would be five buildings down.

As she prepared her escape, screams of terror echoing in her ears, Evie suddenly heard something else.

She looked up. Rapidly rising over the buildings was a hot air balloon. It was crudely decorated, with black markings and red spots that looked similar to Winston’s face. And Evie realized with a jolt that was Winston in the balloon.

More cursing in her headset. He was supposed to stay behind, what was he doing-

“Phantom, get over here. Thunderbird is flying and heading your way.” Evie gulped, looking over the skyline for confirmation. Sure enough, Thunderbird had taken flight, and was slowly coming the tops of buildings.

She heard more screams from below, and when she looked, she saw Winston leaning out of his balloon, golden strings coming from his fingers.

Evie took one last glance at both Thunderbird and Winston, and made her escape. Her power flooded through her, making her feel light as air. She slipped through the ceiling effortlessly, as if she were simply floating down.

She was on the ground and solid in about thirty seconds, and then she was running; shoving through the gathered people with her head down and her hood pulled tight over her face.

The screams seemed to follow her as she ran, cries of ‘Anarchists!’ and ‘Puppeteer!’ ringing in her ears.

Her boots slammed on the pavement with every step, but with the massive crowds, it was getting harder and harder to push her way through.

Someone moved slightly as she barrelled towards them, and Evie couldn’t stop herself in time. She and the other person went sprawling on the ground in a heap. In all the commotion, her headset was ripped from her, along with her hood. Evie lay on the concrete, panting, pale skin and dark hair on show for everyone around.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?” Above her, a dark-skinned girl who looked around her age held out her hand. Evie glanced at her, then decided better of it and pushed herself up.

“I’m fine. Gotta go-” She started, but the girl cut her off.

“Where are you even heading in such a hurry? You’re going to knock more people down if you keep running like that.”

“I’m fine,” Evie insisted. “And I’ll be more careful. My sister is waiting for me.” That, at least, was a partial truth.

“Get inside.” The girl said. “If The Puppeteer sees you-”

Now it was Evie’s turn to cut her off. “I’ll be fine. I’m not afraid of The Puppeteer.” The girl looked like she wanted to protest, but she never got the chance. Evie dashed off, this time much more carefully.

Above her she still saw the hot air balloon, and the thin golden strings attached to Winston’s fingers as the man laughed maniacally.

With her headset gone, Evie could no longer receive information from the others. Ingrid had likely given up waiting on her and had saved her own hide. She knew all the ways to get back to the tunnels unnoticed, and she could get back easily enough.

Even so, she’d rather at least have someone to back her up. Seeing that Leroy was… otherwise occupied, her next best option was Nova. As for Phobia, she’d never go anywhere with him alone unless it was a life-or-death situation.

In the background she heard shouting, sounds of Renegades trying to calm the situation. She couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of her sister; despite the fact she’d missed the big shot, she’d still caused enough chaos to keep everyone occupied.

It was when she looked up again that she saw it: A dark blur jumping from the roof of a nearby building, landing squarely in the basket of the hot air balloon.

Nova. Evie set her sights on the balloon, dodging screaming people in the streets. As she got closer to the balloon she tugged her hood back over her face, simultaneously shielding her from the sun and keeping others from seeing any identifying features. She couldn’t just go risking her identity, could she now?

The balloon was sinking slightly, careening towards an abandoned apartment complex at the end of the street. Now or never, she supposed.

“It’s Nightmare!” Someone shrieked, pointing at Nova in the basket of the balloon. Evie couldn’t see her sister’s face, not with her matching weighted hood, but she could see the panic evident in her body language.

Evie shoved people aside as she ran for the rapidly descending balloon, hearing people screaming ‘Phantom!’ along with a chorus of other Anarchist names.

Winston grinned maliciously as he saw Evie approaching, another golden string flashing from his fingertips. Evie’s heart plummeted; Winston could be kind, but when he was in this zone, no child was safe. And that included her, his ally.

She still ran, though she poised herself to leap out of the way should Winston try to string her up like one of his marionette dolls. In the basket, Nova rifled through her pockets; searching for something.

The balloon dropped lower and lower, sinking far enough that Evie could have jumped up and touched the bottom of the basket with her hand. If they didn’t do something soon, the balloon could crash into the streets and people below.

“Come on little Phantom.” Winston mocked. “Can’t you reach us yet?” Evie’s hands curled into fists. She saw red. How dare he.

The golden thread sprang from Winston’s left pinky finger, growing rapidly and reaching for her. Evie tensed her muscles, ready to dodge The Puppeteer, when she heard a guttural scream.

Nova shoved Winston over the side of the basket with one massive push, sending the older man sprawling onto the concrete. At the same moment, relieved from its weight, the balloon shot back up towards the sky.

And in the same moment, Evie launched herself forward, reaching for her sister’s outstretched hand. Nova grabbed onto her wrist and held her flush against the basket as the balloon rose back up.

Below, Evie heard more screaming, more cries of her alias. But all she could think about was not falling from what seemed like a thousand feet in the air. Nova tugged at her, but with the angle she held her, pulling her inside the basket would be difficult. Already she could feel her wrist aching to the point of dislocation.

The balloon cleared the buildings at the end of the street, though Evie could still hear and see the terrified people below them.

Sweat flowed down her back, from heat and from the sheer terror of heights she’d never realized she’d had until now. Nova grunted from inside the basket, still trying to haul her over the lip.

The crack of a gun pierced the air, and Nova flinched. Evie yelped, feeling herself slipping further. Another gunshot rang out.

With a gasp, Evie felt her whole body become weightless again, and she slipped inside the basket and landed with a thump at her sister’s feet. She’d forgotten about her abilities.

Nova let out a hysterical laugh and collapsed beside her, holding her face in her hands.

“Evie, I’d really like it if you could remember that you have literal intangibility next time you’re hanging out of a hot air balloon.”

Laughter bubbled up from her throat. “Do you plan on there being a next time, Nightmare?”

Nova snorted. “Not unless you want another near-death experience, Phantom.”

The two sisters held each other in the basket of the hot air balloon. And below them, Winston Pratt suddenly found himself surrounded by Renegades, and in a very sticky situation indeed.

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