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#john wick x gender neutral reader
thebookbutterfly · 4 months
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🦋 Chocolate Chips — John Wick x Reader
Summary: Every year you and John celebrate Helen’s birthday. This year would have been her 40th, so you decide to do something special.
Tags: #so much domestic fluff, #a teensy bit of angst, #sometimes babygirl is a 50 year old hit man, #he may kill people for a living but he is SOFT and I will not be taking any arguments about this, #slightly self indulgent
Warnings: Gender Neutral, but reader is suggested to have long hair, no use of Y/N, mentions of death obviously, no beta and no ‘ragrets’
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John’s occupation put a lot of things in life into perspective. Getting into silly fights was simply not worth it. Not when every time he walked out the door the stakes were so high. That’s not to say that you never had disagreements. Just that neither of you were willing to partake in petty lack of communication.
You had known about Helen from the very day you and John had begun dating. It was hard not to. The man loved her so much it was written on every piece of him. Strangely though you didn’t mind. How could you? When that wonderful woman had brought him through so much shit and out to the the other side. To you.
Simply to say that Helen was a part of what made the love of your life himself. And so you didn’t mind his love for her at all. Especially now that his love for you was written all over him too.
It was Helen’s birthday today. You saved the date and had been sneakily preparing everything for weeks now. It would have been her 40th birthday, so you wanted to make it extra special this year. John had been out on a contract all day yesterday and so you weren’t too worried about him waking up as you crept downstairs and into the kitchen.
You removed the cake you had baked from the fridge where you had hidden it and placed it on the counter. Chocolate caramel. Her favourite flavour. The big silver four and zero candles were perfect. Along side the cake you placed a large vase full of daisies. It was perfect. All that was left to do was breakfast.
You set to work, cutting up fruit and frying bacon and eggs. You knew John would be starving when he woke up, he always was after a hit. You supposed hunting someone down burned a serious amount of calories. Lastly, you set to work on the pancakes. You knew they were Johns favourite and you were more than happy to indulge him, especially today. He always asked for heaps of chocolate chips in his. You rolled your eyes affectionately at the thought. He was a chocolate fiend but when he stared at you with those big brown eyes. Ugh. Who were you to say no to such a gentle, beautiful man?
You were just plating up the last of the pancakes when you heard soft footsteps padding down the stairs, followed by the excited skitter of Boy as he raced his dad down to the kitchen. John was silent as death so you knew the fact that you could hear him approach was deliberate and more for you than anything else.
Boy entered the room a minute before John did; tail wagging like crazy. You laughed at his enthusiasm and leaned down to ruffle his ears affectionately. John’s sleepy form shuffled in just as Boy managed to land a lick to your cheek. He smiled at the sight of his little family. Boy: seemingly very proud of himself and you: wiping the drool off your face as you stood to greet him.
It was unfair, you thought, for the boogeyman to be someone as cute as him. John was wearing a soft long sleeve shirt and his favourite pair of flannel pyjama pants. As usual he had stolen one of your scrunchies to pull back his long hair— a green one with ducks on it, this time.
You had offered to buy him some of his own. Cool ones to fit his bad-boy assassin image; you had teased. But he had somewhat sheepishly declared that he liked yours better. You didn’t mind. After all you stole a fair share of his clothes too. So you had compromised and bought a few extra for yourself, that way he could be a thief and you wouldn’t run out.
Johns eyes drifted to the cake and the vase of flowers on the counter, and he froze. You watched as the memories hit him one after the other. Boy, sensing his dad’s distress, waddled over to his side and plopped himself down on John’s foot. The contact jolted him back to reality and he lifted his watery eyes to yours. “You did all this?” he finally choked out.
You stepped over boy and slipped your arms around his waist.
“It would be her 40th. I wanted to do something special for her this year,” you replied before a bit of hesitancy creeped into your voice. “Is it okay?”
John wrapped his arms around you, tugging you right against his chest. It took him a minute to reply and your heart thundered as you waited for him to say something. He buried his head into your neck and you cradled him there with the palm of your hand on his nape. Keeping him safe— holding him together as he answered with tears in his voice.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
You breathed a sigh of relief. Reaching with your unoccupied hand you began to trace constellations on his back. It was a habit you had gotten from him, actually, but it had stuck with you. He had spent years with nothing but violence for company, so you relished touching him gently.
Slowly, you pulled him to face you. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and swiped away his tears with your thumbs.
“I love you,” you said softly. You held him firmly willing him to really hear it.
“I love you too, so much.”
You stood there for a second, just holding his face in your hands. Enjoying the warmth of his skin. Boy sensed the shift in mood and slowly his tail began to thump against your legs.
“You had a long night last night,” you broke the silence. “Let’s get some food in you. Then after that we can light the candles and you can tell me about some of your favourite memories of Helen. Yeah?”
John nodded, straightening, but kept his grip on your waist as he surveyed all the food you had made.
“I’d love that. Do you mind if we have a look at the photos too?” He asked softly.
“I already put the photo albums out on the coffee table,” you replied with a cheeky grin.
His chest rumbled as he laughed, “Am I that predictable?”
You beamed at the sound, poking him in the ribs as he snuck Boy a piece of bacon. Big softie.
“I think I just happen to know you quite well. You’re much less mysterious than you think,” you teased him and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear.
“Alright, I’ll accept that,” he said with one last peck on your lips. “Now, let’s eat before this goes cold.”
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imajinxnation · 2 months
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HI HI HI!!
First of all I wanted to start off by saying that I absolutely love your work and I saw that your requests are open so I was wondering if I could make one??
Could I request a one shot with John Wick x reader where they’re in a relationship and are out at a bar or something and someone is just being really creepy and hitting on a clearly uncomfortable reader? Cue protective John to the rescue!!
Honestly you can take this wherever you want or do whatever you want with this!
Thank you so much, but if not no worries at all :)
Have an amazing day/ night!!!
J & J (Jardani & Jealousy)
John Wick x Reader
SUMMARY // You get hit on by someone in a Café, which makes Jardani(John) get jealous and protective.
TW // Fluff, Creepy Girl, Sexy Protective Jardani, Cussing, Suggestive...
I switched between the names Jardani and John because I'm in love with his real name.
Also, decided on a Café because more people go to Café's than Bars (at least where I'm from).
Lmk if there are any mistakes, my dumb brain wants to say 'I' everytime I type 'you'.
ALL GIFS FROM PINTEREST
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When John wanted to go on a quiet Café date with you, this was not what he had planned. Everything was going so well, until he left to use the washroom and came back to see a girl practically sitting on you, she was so close. Just by the expression on your face, he could tell you were extremely uncomfortable with this girl; and she wasn't taking a hint.
Her face gets closer to yours, he sees her whisper something in your ear and he starts to feel a fire burn in his soul, his protectiveness taking over.
That's what he's seeing now, but let's back it up a bit to when he first left to use the washroom and take a look at what happened that he didn't see.
You're sitting quietly in your booth, looking out the window at the street and all the different cars passing by, a dreamy look in your eyes. Obviously, you were thinking about the love of your life, Jardani. You knew about his old life and what happened with Helen, but that didn't tip you off from dating on him because you know that he is more than his past. You also know that Helen will always have a piece of his heart, and you don't mind as long as you also have a piece of his heart, too.
"Excuse me," a voice says.
You're taken out of your daydream when you hear a woman's voice speaking next to you. A waitress at the Café stands there, smiling at you with a weird look in her eyes. You smile politely at the waitress and sit up straight.
"Yes?" You ask, smiling gently.
"These are your orders. If I may ask, where'd your father go?" The waitress asked after setting the drinks and breakfast on the table, a grin on her face.
You freeze for a minute. 'Did this bitch just call Jardani my father?' You think. 'I get that he's older than me, but anyone can tell by the way we act that we're romantically involved!'
You give her the most obvious fake smile you could muster before replying,
"He went to use the washroom. Also, he's my boyfriend, not my father."
The waitress gave a shocked look, not expecting those words to come out of your lips. Suddenly she looked at you with fake concerned eyes. You raise a brow at her expression, waiting for some bullshit to come out of her mouth.
"Oh sweetie, you can tell me. Is he making you date him, are you okay?" She puts her hand on your shoulder and strokes down your arm before sliding into the seat right next to you, her hip and thigh squishing yours.
"What? No, he's not making me date him, I really do love him," you say, trying to be as polite as possible, not wanting to cause a huge scene.
"Honey, you don't have to lie to me! Besides, you can do so much better. You need someone closer to your age," she plays with your hair.
You look around nervously, checking to see if John had finished in the washroom yet. When you still didn't see him, you mentally cursed him for leaving you to deal with this crazy woman who doesn't understand what 'no' means. You also prayed he'd be back soon so you could stop playing nice and get her to leave.
"I really don't, trust me, I've tried to date people my age, they're rude assholes," I say, trying to hint at her.
"You just haven't met the right one yet.." she whispers in your ear, her breath making you shudder in disgust and lose your appetite for breakfast.
"What's going on here?" John asks politely as he walks up to the table.
Once the woman is no longer looking at you and is looking at John instead, you mouthed the word 'help' behind her back, giving your lover a distressed look. You see a look of understanding in his eyes.
"Yes, well, you can do that without sitting on their lap, and besides, don't you have other customers to tend to?" His words quickly made her feel embarrassed, and she quickly left to do just that, but not before glancing back at you, winking at you and mouthing 'call me!'.
"Oh nothing, I was just telling your.. partner.. that they looked lovely today," the woman lied, giving him an uninterested look, giving him a quick once over.
You let out a breath that you didn't even know you were holding, your body relaxing as John moved back to his seat across from you.
"That was awful, thank you for that.. I see that look on your face, no matter how much you, or even I, wanna kill her, she is technically an innocent," you point out.
John raises an eyebrow at you, "That? I can tell you right now there was nothing innocent about that.. thing."
You roll your eyes and can't help but smile at his protectiveness, the fire in his eyes burning you to the core. Seeing him angry and possessive was always a sight, and it never failed to make you squirm in your seat.
"You know.. she really tipped me off my breakfast, maybe we could just.. Oh, I don't know.. Go home, take a hot shower.." You say, not trying to be subtle at all with your intentions.
"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," he gives a small smirk, the fire in his eyes that was burning with anger, now burning with desire.
"Well, let's not wait.. Jardani," you tease him, riding your foot up his leg, getting him excited.
Jardani shivers, from both your touch on his leg and you saying his real name. You calling him by his birth name always does things to him, and it will get you anything you want.
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evren-sadwrn · 3 months
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.................okay but ROMANTIC Vincent x bodyguard could slap 😗🤨😲now that might be something I could potentially eat up. Suddenly I am hungry.
cringefailure french boy needs a bodyguard i got u bae dw
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ʚ♡ɞ
You work for the Marquis de Gramont as a bodyguard
You’re well-versed in guns and all that combat jazz
You get your hands dirty for this guy, and commit acts of violence
It’s just your job anyways
It’s much better than being a common hitman or mercenary because then you have a boss to hide behind
A particularly hot boss to be specific
He’s attractive, you and the other Myrmidons agree upon that
Vincent is young in comparison to literally everyone in the Table’s circle of representatives and agents
He’s a hyperglot, he’s got a taste in art, he likes cats more than dogs, he’s sexy as hell, and he’s interesting when he talks sometimes
God, isn’t he just amazing?
It’s when you’re at the Louvre with this guy again(second time this week)
“What do you think about art?”
A simple, innocent question
Your answer goes along the lines of something basic
Nothing too profound, just rather something short and simple
And that sends the Marquis to talking about art and history as a whole
Now you know the difference between Baroque and Renaissance art
And you know Realism, Impressionism, and Romanticism
Vincent finds Romanticism particularly interesting: a quiet theme romanticizing the softer and more gentler parts of life
You can see that in him
Vincent gets excited when he talks about art
You can see it when he smiles, or when his eyes are practically gleaming as he talks
You only nod, answer simple and short when he pauses to ask
Then—
Then Vincent has you accompanying him more than often
You get a chance to talk to Chidi a whole lot, Vincent’s right hand man
And you get to hear more of Vincent’s ramblings
Attending bourgeois luxuries
Palais Garnier, and all that stuff
It only takes nine months(fuck, that’s nearly a year) for you to actually start seeing Vincent
Vincent, not the Marquis— but just him
A guy that plays piano and fills most of his days learning a new language if he’s not doing anything important
He holds everyone to high standards including you
But there’s always something that Vincent likes about you
It’s clear in his actions, really
“These gloves would suit you, don’t you think?”
Vincent likes giving gifts, he doesn’t know anything else about relationships or how to properly say it
But it’s clear
He first got you gloves when he saw your hands were particularly bruised
Then it just straight up jumped to him giving you a car, sleek black and elegantly shaped
God, you wish you were joking
But you wanted to test the waters first
“I want you to come with me to the Louvre again”
“Alright, kiss me on the cheek first”
Was that too bold?
Either way, after a moment of pause, which was Vincent just processing it—
—he kissed you on the cheek
What kind of chapstick was he using to get those lips so damn pink and perfect and soft?
You’ve been eyeing those lips for a while now
And feeling it first hand-
Fuck, it was exhilarating
“So are we gonna go now?”
Vincent put a hand on his hip as he asked you
“Yes, sir”
Shit, you were so fucking whipped
reblogs appreciated as always<33
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Follow me to live (pt1)
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1.7k words
Triggers: child abuse, animal abuse, blood, violence, not directly but like defintley a hint at sexual assault in the past.
“You can’t just call me a bitch and expect me to respect you!” You shouted
“Well don’t act like a bitch if you don’t want to be one!” Your dad yelled. His eyes were piercing through your soul. He was trying to make himself bigger as if he was trying to scare off a bear.
You wanted to back down but held your ground. He had hurt you too much, he had scared you too much. It was time to show him that you were stronger than him.
“You’re just like your dad!”
One black eye later and you quickly shoved some of your shit in a trash bag. You left with your dad crying on the floor and apologizing.
So… here you are now. Living in little Russia surviving off ramen cups and a water filter. However, today you wanted to switch it up a little and find some happiness in your life. The cold air nipped your face as you began to walk outside.
Some parts of this shit hole were quite nice. You weren’t a religious person, but you were always impressed with religious art. Hence why you were here, mouth agape at the beautiful pieces of colored glass. However, it was starting to get dark and you did not want to be out after dark. You were about to turn around and walk back to your apartment when you heard something.
Was that a whimper?
You heard the soft sound again and began to follow it. Against your better judgment, you went behind the church and found a chained-up dog.
It was a gray pitbull, which looked abused and malnourished. Seeing the slight cuts on its skin and its ribs poking out made you want to cry.
“Hi baby” you crouched down slowly, giving the dog your hand. The dog sniffed your hand and began wagging its tail.
You unclipped her from the chain and slowly picked her up. “Come on girl, let’s go home.”
—————
You locked the door behind you and slowly put the dog down. You grabbed a bowl and began pouring water into it.
“Here you go baby” You softly put the bowl at her feet. You smiled softly as she gulped the water down.
You had some leftover rice that you decided to heat up and put some chicken broth in. Your guess of her being malnourished was proven right when she ate all of the food in one bite. While she ate you inspected a small gold coin that was attached to a leather collar that you had yet to take off.
“John Wick” you said while running your finger over the name.
“Is that your name or your owner's name?” You sighed and flipped over the tag to find any other information. Which, of course, there was nothing
“So you got like- a first name and last name?” She licked you in response. Taking that as an answer you got up.
“Alright John Wick, let’s patch you up.”
——-/
The next morning you were awoken by John licking your face. “You hungry Wick?” You smiled at the cute dog.
How could someone ever abuse this cutie?
You got up and went to the fridge, determined to find John something. The chicken immediately caught your eyes and your stomach started to growl.
“God I can’t believe I’m going to sacrifice my meal for a dog… worth it though.”
——-/
Two weeks passed, and you and John were now attached by the hip. She had begun to gain some of her weight back but was still healing from cuts. You had stitched them, which was easier than you thought. Wick was surprisingly very calm during the whole ordeal.
You two were snuggling in your bed listening to some podcast about celebrity gossip. “John, can you believe that the Kardashians are still relevant?” She sighed in response while eating popcorn out of your hand.
“Aye John. I was thinking… I have some extra nail polish.”
She glanced at you in response.
“Can I paint your nails?”
“Andddddd done!”
John Wick's nails were now painted a beautiful sparkly purple. You had decided to paint your nails the same color.
“John, we look so cute together!”
You hugged the pitbull as she licked your face.
——-/
“Alright, John! Today is the day, your first walk!” She wagged her tail and you attached the leash to her. The leash belonged to your old childhood dog, who also happened to be a pitbull. Moxie and you had a bond that transcended lifetimes. You teared up, maybe John Wick is my little Moxie.
Usually, you had taken John out for a quick piss on the little grassy area near the stairs. However, this was different, a milestone in her progress.
You walked with her around the town, smiling as she smelled everything around her. The walk was so peaceful and nice that you hadn’t even realized you passed the church. That was until someone jumped on your back and stabbed a knife into your shoulder.
“Jesus fucking-“
A hand covered your mouth and you slowly were back in a very very bad memory. Freaking out, you kicked the man in the groin, not once but twice. He loosened his grip and fell to the ground.
“John, are you okay?” You quickly scanned over her body trying to ignore the still, very visible, knife lodged in your shoulder.
Footsteps started to echo from the alleyway of the church. You tightened your hold on her leash and began sprinting.
Bullets started to skim past your body as a random car started to follow you. The footsteps and yelling behind you did not falter, even when you zigzagged down different alleyways.
You were about a block away from your apartment, hiding in the shadows of an alleyway. Their footsteps began to get louder as you held your breath. John, please don’t bark.
The men then passed your alleyway and you let out a shaky breath. “Maybe no more walks…. At least for a bit.” You pet her head and began making your way home.
You shut the door and turned on the lights. “Are you okay baby? You’re not hurt anywhere are you?” Searching her body more thoroughly. You sighed in relief when you saw no bullet holes.
“Thank god you’re okay John.” You pat the dog, trying to ignore the pain coming from your right shoulder.
Man that was my good arm too.
You stumbled your way into the bathroom, with Wick following shortly behind. Flicking on the lights, you screamed as you were met with a barrel of a gun.
“Who the fuck are you?!” You slowly stepped back and put a protective arm out. “Wick stay behind me.” You looked down at the dog but she didn’t seem to listen to you. She ran at the man with her tail wagging. He recuperated the love with a soft pet on her head.
“What did you call her?” He asked, still having the gun pointed at you.
“Wick. Her name is John Wick.”
He slowly lowered the gun, “No, MY name is John Wick.”
You gripped the door frame for extra support as all the adrenaline started to slowly leave you. Rubbing your head in confusion, you were trying to figure out what was going on.
“So… are you her owner or something?”
“Yes.” He slowly put the gun back into his jacket.
“Well, you’re a shit owner. I found her outside of the church, poor girl was starving and abused.” You glared at him. Still trying to keep up some facade that you weren’t going to pass out from the pain at any minute.
“She was kidnapped.” He said sternly as if he was trying to justify the poor dog's abuse.
“You look young. Where’re your parents?” He seemed to quickly want to change the conversation.
“Look man, I appreciate the concern and everything but-“ you glanced at the mirror gagging when you saw the knife in your shoulder.
He quickly made his way toward you and guided you to a kitchen aisle.
“What are you-“
“Lay on the counter.” He demanded.
“Man, I just washed this too.” Your warm skin was met with the coolness of the marble. That’s one thing that always really confused you about this place. Everything in this apartment was so shitty, but you randomly had marble countertops.
“I’m going to have to pull the knife out and stitch the wound.” He pulled out a first aid kit from his jacket.
“Don’t you dare.” You tried moving off the countertop but his one hand held you in place.
“WAIT WAIT WAIT- I’m getting used to it just leave it in”.
He began to grab wipes, a thread, and a needle from the small box.
“I never and I mean never broken a bone before! Not to mention stitches and a fucking stab wound!” You began wigging in place as he threaded the needle.
“Always a first for everything.” He hummed.
“I will scream-“
“Don’t forget that those Russian men are looking for you.” He scolded.
“They don’t belong to you?”
“No, but they are after me, now you too.” He walked away. You sighed in relief thinking that talking more was going to delay the whole process. He got a cup of water before starting where he left off.
“So- like how did you get involved with them?” You nervously asked. Maybe next you’ll ask what he thinks about the weather
“Talking more will make this whole situation longer than it needs to be.” You groaned at his answer.
He quickly put a hand over your mouth and pulled out the knife. His hand had muffled your screams, which really didn’t do much. You then kicked your legs out, frantically trying any way to get rid of the pain.
“You done yet?” He asked unamused. As if his kid was throwing a tantrum because they couldn’t get a toy they wanted.
You nodded and he removed the hand from your mouth.
“Alright time to stitch”
———/
Reader was like LEMME TELL YOU SOMETHING! LEMME TELL YOU SOMETHING!
Anyway this is new and very inspired by @arece so check their series out.
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ariiloveskeanu · 9 months
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hii! i'm ari! i like to write atsv hc's and drabbles.
i also write for john wick, the hunger games, and resident evil.
dni/byf
i don't write nsfw content!!! (mostly bc i don't know how)
i want this page to be a safe space for everyone so pls keep in mind that my dm's are open if u need to get smth off ur chest <3.
maps dni.
transphobes, racists, homophobes, xenophobics, etc dni.
i'm unlabeled so all of my posts, with the exception of specified requests, will be gender-neutral.
who i write for
atsv
miguel o'hara
peter b parker
hobie brown
pavitr prabhakar
miles morales
e42!miles morales
gwen stacy
john wick
vincent de gramont
john wick
the hunger games
peeta mellark
katniss everdeen
finnick odair
resident evil
requests temporarily closed
thank you for reading(if u did)!
i hope u all have a lovely day/night <3
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fanpageknight · 11 months
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Can you do a Yandere Jealous John Wick x Reader?
Loyalty
Posted: 05/04/23
Title: Loyalty
Yandere John Wick x GN reader
Summary: When there's no escape from a love sick Baba yaga, why fight him?
Author's note: Mx is a gender neutral term for Mrs/ Mr
John Wick Story list / Master List
Warnings: Yandere, violence, language
🔞18+ page due to dark and adult themes. Minors will be blocked 🔞
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John was at his breaking point. He couldn't watch you from the sidelines anymore.
He knew how attached he was getting to you and how the wrong people were bound to start noticing. Not only that, but you were actively seeking a partner. He watched as you go on dates with people from dating apps and go to clubs or wherever else to meet someone.
John has thought about making a dating account to try and match or to "accidentally" bump into you at the club. However, he knew that there were too many variables at this time and didn't want to fuck up his first time introducing himself.
The consequence of this destination was his obsessions, protective, and lovely feelings, for you started to build more rapidly as he waited.
You had only heard about him in stories that were told like myths. A boogeyman, you would never and could never see coming.
However, in some cruel twisted joked, you had seen him, but only because he wanted you to.
His dark eyes stare at you from across the clubs pool room as he shoots the man you had planned on going home with. "AGHHH!" You screamed as John stands to his full size never taking his eyes off of you.
You turned and booked it for the exit with a towel wrapped around your wet skin.
Music blasts in your ears as you enter the actual club room. You shove and push past people on the dance floor, hoping to lose him in the chaos.
'What did I do?' Your thoughts are barely loud enough to be heard over your panicked heartbeat.
As you make it to the other side of the dance floor, you look back over your shoulder and see John shoving his way through the crowd eyes still locked on you.
'I'm going to die!'
"Fuck!" You shouted as you realized you were lost somewhere within the huge club. You shock as cold air blows against your wet skin.
You turn the corner of a long back hallway to see a door, but upon trying to open it, you find it locked.
"No...no. no. Please..." You heard footsteps stop far behind you.
The breath in your lungs is held hostage as you gulped in fear. Shaking, you turned around to see Baba Yaga blocking your only exit.
Silent tears fall from your eyes as he makes a calm approach. "P-please i-i haven't done anything wrong." He does reply as his eyes hold yours. "Please... don't kill me..." You beg looking away from him. His eyes soften as he stands close to you while you push yourself up against the door.
John's strong hand gently lifts your chin to look at him. You cautiously open your eyes to look at him confused by his gentle action.
His eyes looked human.
"I'm not here to kill you..." You knit your eyebrows. "Then -" He cut you off. "This isn't how I had planned this to go, but... I couldn't just watch anymore." He moves his hand from your chin to your cheek causing you to flinch and him to frown.
John wasn't sure what to say, so he said the truth. "I love you..." You're eyes widen, and before you can reply, he continues. "I saw you with that man tonight, and I couldn't handle it... not anymore. He needed to die." You closed your eyes tightly and shook your head. "No -" "Yes -" "NO HE DIDN'T!" You cried out. John sighed, knowing you wouldn't understand things from his perspective, so he didn't waste his breath arguing.
"Ethier way. I can provide for you much better than him or anyone you've gone out with." His thumb wipes away your tears, then look you over to see you wet and shaking. "You're freezing. You'll warm up in my car." He takes a careful hold of the back of your arm to try and get you to the walk with him. However, you yanked your arm away. "I'm not going anywhere with you. You fucking creep!"
He looks back at you seriously. "It wasn't a question." He then holds up a hand for you. "Now come... I'd hate to have to do this the hard way." You gulped. "I...I don't understand." You whispered to yourself. "You don't need to understand. You just need to comply."
You cried and shook your head. "You're smarter than this, y/n." He warnings.
The silence was tight in the air as you stared at him through tears. He sighs and lowers his hand before turning back to you. "Look... I know this isn't ideal, but I'm done waiting around for us to fall in love or for someone to hurt you." His eyes darken again as his nose almost touches yours. "I want to dedicate the rest of my life to you." John shakes his head, thinking he misspoke. "No... I need to dedicate the rest of my life to you." He gave your pouting lips a peck. "You be safe with me. I promise~" He gives you another sweet peck. "All you have to do is be loyal to me. To be mine~. " He looks into your eyes and watches your fear become calm numbness.
But he also saw your understanding of your inevitable fate.
"Say it~" He whispered in your ear before kissing under it. "Say that you're loyal to me~" You blankly stare into the hallway as he begins to kiss your neck lovingly. "I..." Your throat felt dry. "I'm..." John presses his body against wanting to warm your cold skin. "Good. You can say ~" "I'm loyal." He smirks against your skin. "To whom?" He asked. "To you... I'm loyal to you... j-john wick." He pulls back and kisses your forehead. "Now, say... I'm yours, Mr. Wick~. " You wet your dry mouth and looked up at him to see a possessive hungry love-filled look. "I'm..." You took a deep breath. "I'm yours, Mr Wick."
He smiles at you and kisses you lovingly. You gently kissed back, knowing there was no escape from this man. He pulls back and whispered "And I am loyal to you. You are mine... Mx Wick~" he kisses your forehead and picks you up as he begins to walk. "No one will touch what's mine, ever again~"
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staarboyyy · 6 months
Note
YAYYY YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!
I was wondering if you could maybe write something about y/n being an apprentice and Hoffman flirts with them even knowing they are in a relationship with Amanda 😧 It goes on for a while and Amanda gets tired of it, gets really jealous and yells at Hoffman then takes y/n back to her room and… you know 🫣 NSFW, maybe slight choking if you don’t mind writing it (if not that is totally okay!) just some dirty talk here and there also for example: whenever Amanda catches Hoffman flirting with reader she whispers things into readers ear :) Thank you so much in advance!
territory
amanda young x gender neutral reader | specified anatomy
18+ characters / scenarios - minors dni
tags / warnings ; apprentice!reader, jealousy, amanda being a guard dog, anatomical terms for vagina, degradation, dubcon if u squint, biting, sadistmanda
summary ; amanda catches you and mark going over your lastet work.
word count ; 3.2k
a/n; sorry for the delay, i really loved this prompt and writing for the apprentice reader, they are so silly! please enjoy :D
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Amanda had a bad feeling about Mark from the start. How could she not? She saw that wicked look in his eyes, that knowing spark every time he glanced at you while you sketched traps aimlessly. He knew that you weren't supposed to be anything more than teammates, but that didn't stop him from trying to turn it into something more - Something like what you and Amanda had. Mark had always been cold, bitter. He spoke the truth with no hesitation, taking in breaths with the intent to speak words meant to silence others in the room. He was a force to be reckoned with to most; And yet as he watched you from across the warehouse, his gaze was disturbingly ... Friendly. Seeing this did not just make Amanda angry, her gaze curiously stuttering past the dooframe just as Mark crossed the room toward you. He squared his shoulders, shoes thudding quietly against the cement floor as his eyes reached the sketchbook in front of you.
You had been drafting for some days - It felt strange, almost like having homework due. John was a tough judge, especially when the traps were made for a truly awful person; In truth you didn't want to dwell on the details of the man this trap was for. He had taken things from women that could never be given back to them, and that was enough to drive your sadistic spark. The spark that made John give a slight tilted grin, not speaking as he steadily nodded, studying your sketches. At first his silence worried you, but when your drafts ended up pinned to the wall near his desk, you took to planning more confidently. It seemed John wasn't the only one to take notice to your determination, your pencil coming to a sharp pause as Mark leaned the weight of his hip into the creaking metal table. His eyes were still lingering on the page, jaw shifting with a slightly tilted head, nearly perplexed at the scratched notes and crumpled discarded brainstorm pages. Not your fault your desk was cluttered. When the inspiration hits you, y'know?
"What is this?"
Mark asked quietly as he moved to grasp and hold up one of the crumpled sketches. It had been discarded because you accidentally drew it comically uneven and decided it was too time consuming to try and fix without a ruler on hand. Mark gave you a quizzical glance nonetheless, looking between you, the warped drawing, and the others on the sketchbook before you. You had originally planned to draw a second picture, a much less fucked up version with the same pose, but you got hung up on the details. A small laugh escapes your throat, lighting up the cold warehouse for a brief moment. Why did he take notice of the wrong sketch? And why did he have to remind you of it's existence? The small pursed smile pushed at the corners of your lips as gave a shake of your head.
"Bad proportions."
"I'll fuckin' say,"
Mark's response suprised you slightly, the way his tone so easily shifted from a cold demanding one to an almost playful chuckle. He gave a slight nod as he re crumpled the distorted sketch, eyes casting over his shoulder to locate the trash can and - Oh. There she was. Amanda stood slightly obscured by a stacked frame of chains, the light of the warehouse casting long shadows across her face. She could feel the distinct searing hot shaking in her fingertips; She had never seen Mark laugh, let alone smile. It left a harshly bitter taste in her mouth, shifting her shoulder to shrug past the hanging chains. Her body moved slow, steps quiet as she approached you and Mark with the stealth of a snake in high grass. Her dark eyes were still locked on Mark's, the way his free hand hovered over your shoulder, how he shifted his body to face yours, the smell of his subtle cologne brushing over your senses. Jealousy surged through Amanda's veins in chilling waves, goosebumps pricking the back of her neck, fingers clenching into fists, knuckles a bright white. No one could have you besides her, this was true. But Hoffman surely had to know exactly what he was doing.
Mark's eyes narrowed when they met Amanda's. He knew that look - An animal primed to kill, a woman who would cage herself over you in a storm of shattered glass without a second thought. He swore a flashing glint of red soared over Amanda's gaze, her attention faltering as it caught the sight of Mark's hand. In one moment, his palm had laid for perhaps half a second on your shoulder, and the next, a shadow cast over your sketchbook, a figure standing directly behind you.
You had grown used to Amanda's silence when walking around the warehouse, yet your body jolted with a sudden twist of fear, moving to turn towards the figure just as Mark pulled his hand away. Your hitching breaths relaxed as you caught sight of Amanda, your expression easing into a small smile. But when she did not return it, it faded from your lips. You immediately recounted the past few minutes - Surely there had been no reason to be angry with you. You've been working, and Mark's been... Ah. The dots connected then as you peered over toward the man beside you, then Amanda once again. The woman wet her lips slowly, tongue rolling over her bottom lip before speaking in a terrifyingly calm voice.
"Having fun?"
Amanda's gaze locked with Mark's, her thoughts flashing with an ugly picture of him with you. Mark shifted slightly, a frown tugging at the edge of his lips. He knew that look in Amanda's eyes. That possessiveness that bordered on insanity. She couldn't place if Mark even knew about her history with you - The countless times she'd press kisses to your cheek in passing, the brush of your thighs when you passed each other, your quiet desperate whispers in her ear promising to keep quiet if it meant she'd touch you. You belonged to her entirely, she was assured of that every waking moment of the day. Every time your bodies tangled together in bed, swimming amongst the sheets to get comfortable, taking in eachothers warmth and staying close, whispering sweet nothings. You were Amanda's everything. She'd flay anyone, any man that tried to ruin that.
"Having a blast." Mark speaks sarcastically, leaning once again against the rusting table, palms splayed over it behind him. "Our friend here was showing me some of their latest work, which I have to say seems promising."
Mark continues, not even looking at Amanda, instead focusing on your drawings. Amanda, for her part, remained motionless for a moment, her expression nearly unreadable, her breathing sharp and steady. Your face flushed, cheeks warming at the sight. In another world, you'd be terrified of that look. Primed to kill, stalking prey with the intent to ravaging it. Her fists curled tight at her side, mouth parted ever so slightly.
"Latest work?"
Amanda echoed, not missing a beat. She still had her eyes locked on Mark. There were no words there anymore, just unspoken emotions that Mark caught wind of almost immediately. He rolled his shoulders, feeling them tense up slightly. He should have known better than to cross claimed territory. That became only more apparent as Amanda's slow pace began once again, coming closer to you both until her hands could rest on both of your shoulders. Her hands were just abit smaller than Mark's, fingers slim and familiar, silver banded rings wrapping over them. They were familiar, warm as her thumbs swept over the backs of your shoulders. It comforted her having you in arms reach, especially with Mark so close by. Her grasp was ever so slightly too tight, fingers flexing over your shoulders as her head cocked, eyes still on Mark. She lifted her eyesbrows expectantly, chin jutting forward slightly, motioning the man to speak with an impatient expression.
"Tch,"
Amanda's possessiveness was so intense, you started to question if that was really a good thing - But the way her hands were now holding you, stroking your shoulder in a comforting caress? That was definitely worth the way Mark began to shift away from you both. There was no helping the way you bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your pulse was picking up pace by the second under Amanda's cold grasp. Her large scarred hands made you feel safe. Each arching scratch or healing nick on her finger tips had a story, one she would tell you with a lopsided grin, nearly bragging. She liked impressing you. Though, she'd never admit it to you without a myriad of stutters and flushed cheeks. Her presence made you feel warm, a space of safe welcoming heat in the middle of this seemingly endless freezing warehouse. You were so comfortable with her hands on your shoulders that you stopped wondering what Mark was feeling. Your gaze cast toward the sketches splayed over your desk, mind dwindling off into all different directions, all leading back to her. Mark was always cold. You and Amanda had something different - The way her breath caught in her throat as she realized you were starting to relax again, the way the fingers on your shoulder gripped tighter just for a moment before she pulled back, as if to assure you she'd be back in no time - you didn't even glance away as Mark's footsteps echoed away down a dingey hallway, presumably to leave for the night.
The feeling of your back hitting the lush mattress of Amanda's bed took the breath away, but how her hands kept your wrists pinned to the sheets made you gasp sharply. The palms pressed softly against your wrists, sending shivers rocketing up your spine, setting your every nerve on edge. Her dark hair curtained over you as her nails gently raked over your body - She cherished every inch of skin, biting her lower lip as her eyes watched you wryly, pinned underneath her. You didnt dare push past this to see through the pulsing haze that danced across your vision from the unexpected rough touch of the other. You tried to swallow your panic down, but nothing could be done to keep the soft whimper from escaping your lips; It pulled a low purr from the woman, tutting quietly before bringing an index finger to her lips, a motion to stay quiet. Amanda leaned down then, her whispered words catching the shell of your ear as she leaned more of her weight into you.
"Shh... You know exactly what you were doing. Don't try to fight me now."
Your eyes darted back and forth, body shivering with equal parts need and fear as she chuckled darkly. The sound was pillowed with a dark intent, lips moving to trace over the warm skin of your neck, lightly glazed with sweat. There was a moment where it felt like you were going to pass out from the thrill of being Amanda's plaything, but then her lips pressed gently against your throat, tethering your mind to focus on her. The way her tongue slid over the sensitive space of skin, teeth gently sinking down, reeling a quiet squeal from your chest. It only made her bite harder, though perhaps you knew that; Perhaps she was right. You wanted to play cat and mouse? So be it.
You squirmed at the slowly building pinch on your throat, back arching as arms fighting ever so slightly against Amanda's weight. After a long moment, the pain subsided, her tongue sweeping over the harsh bite before sitting up slightly. Her eyes were locked on yours, though she was clearly looking through you, to some private joke you were not exactly privy to. Her eyes slid down your body slowly, her left hand releasing one of your wrists to dive underneath your shirt. It seemed a dangerous gamble, taking the chance that she'd see your skin bare, chest rising and falling with frantic gasps of desire, like this. But then, Amanda had been a risk taker - And in this moment, there was nothing more you wanted, those poisonous moments where every sensation she caused seemed to leave a permanent mark on your body and mind. She molded you, carved you like granite as she palmed your chest greedily, one of her legs shifting to spread your own. Her knee pressed lightly against your clothed heat, applying slight varying pressure with a watchful eye; She always loved to see exactly what made you tick. What made your back arch and breath hitch with a carnal spark. She craved to have that practiced to a muscle memory, to turn you mindless in the palm of her hand whenever she chose fit.
"God you're sick huh?
You tried to say something in defense, maybe even a witty quip to get her to smile again. You loved when she smiled in moments like this; Between the passion, the rough bites and harsh words - It was nothing less than love. She knew how much you adored her like this. Dominant, protective, trigger happy with anybody who dared get too close to you. But you were breathless, body shuddering with the pleasure her touch brought. You were at your most vulnerable underneath the woman; Even with no way out, you could think of nothing better than being right where you were. Not much else mattered except for the feeling of both her hands sweeping back down your chest and stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. It wasn't until her finger tips hooked around your belt loops that your dazed eyes focused. Her fingers were slim, scarred, veins lacing over the back of her large hand and muscular forearm. She pulled away your pants with a bite of her lip, kicking them away with distinct impatience; She wanted to taste you.
The cold air chilled your lower half as she worked at your jeans, a soft chuckle following as her finger tips glided over your hips, dipping into the waistband of your underwear. She took more deliberate care with these, her fingers finding the exact mark in the fabric to pull them down, leaving you fully exposed. She wasted no time in exploring the full breadth of your bare front, leaning slightly downward to press soft kisses along the hard pulse of your left thigh. It was maddening, feeling the woman in her element as she lavished attention on your vulnerable skin, biting like a starving animal; Arousal spun your mind, her hot breath and desperate tongue so close to your needy cunt.
You couldn't think through the fog in your mind - Only feel. Only see. Her fingers danced across your skin in search of its most sensitive areas, leaving strewns of light bruises on the soft of your thighs. Hands swept over your thighs with surprising gentleness, positioning your legs to rest on her wide shoulders. She didn't let them linger there, letting go to slip those same palms over your ass, pulling you closer to her with yet another dark snicker. The air in your chest seemed to catch fire when she spoke, her whispered breath causing your hips to sutter forward, whimpering needily.
"I haven't even touched you yet... You think Mark could make you this fucking pathetic?"
It was a sharp question, despite being spoken in one of the softest tones you've ever heard from the woman - She gave you no time to answer, let alone recover before letting her tongue dip firmly into the space she whispered into.
“You're mine,” She murmured, letting her senses all fall away from her head, her spiraling thoughts. She was quick to pull your legs apart from one another, letting his tongue ease over your cunt, starting down firmly at the base, one of her thumbs moving to spread you open gently, to let all her have complete access to you. You gasped sharply, instinctively trying to close your thighs at the sudden electric euphoria lashing at your senses. Yet when her teeth grazed over your clit, your breath hitched tightly in your chest, gazing down at her working at your cunt with the desperation of a starved animal. A groan vibrated into your heat, and you let your head fall back, propping yourself up with her elbows as beads of sweat rolled over your temples. Your eyebrows knitted together, one of your hands reaching to the back of Amandas head, hoping for everything that she wouldn’t stop no matter what you said.
“Fuck - 'Manda!”
You strained the words, your hips shaking slightly as Amanda pulled your clit firmly between her lips, the fingers once used to hold you down had been moved to ease into your cunt, her index and middle fingers sliding in with little resistance. You felt so full just from the pair of fingers, and when she curved them upwards, you could feel your thighs trembling, biting your bottom lip. The quickening tips of her fingers reached that perfect spot, the one that you could barely reach by yourself. You tossed your head over the sheets, your fits gripping the blankets beside you so tightly you could feel your fingernails digging into the palm of your hand. Amandas tongue worked wonders over the small area, her fingers keeping the repetitive motion inside of you; You felt a small fire start to rise in your lower stomach, spiking up into your veins, clouding your vision with stinging tears - Your body screamed for release, your moans aimless, begging Amanda not to stop.
          Your squeals always seemed to motivate her more than anything else. Amanda used her free hand to pull one of your legs up onto her strong shoulder, leaning herself deeper into you - So willing to make you come undone just from her fingers and tongue alone. A smile reached over her lips as she pulled her mouth from you, her fingers not wavering.
      “That's it...” She murmured, her dark eyes piercing deep into yours, expression contorting, able to see you finally cum around her thick fingers. Your eyes watered with the immeasurable amount of pleasure that reigned over your senses, head spinning, saliva falling from your bottom lip. Amanda shuddered out a sigh at the sight of your twitching heat, her thumb rubbing over your senstive clit harshly now, post orgasm. This caused you to try and pull away once more, head shaking instinctually. The sensitivity was too much for you, a strangled sounding out cry made Amanda chuckle casually, her teeth now nipping at the insides of your thighs as you rode out your forcefully coaxed orgasm.
When Amanda removed her fingers, she eased her tongue over them, humming with approval, eyes not leaving your dazed expression. She let your trembling leg slide off her shoulder as the air filled with your unsteady gasps, hardly able to put words together as the woman before you moved to sit on the bed beside you - You tried to move, lifting your shakey hand, finger tips numb from your shallow breaths, yet Amanda shook her head and returned your hand back in place. You needed rest, even as she pulled you into her arms and wrapped her thick quilt over your shoulders, keeping you in her lap while she gingerly offered you water and pecking your cheeks and head with kisses. Amanda would spoil you until the end, even if it meant reminding you exactly who you belonged to every once in a while.
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femoso-seben · 5 months
Text
Baba Yaga Task force 141 X John Wick! reader
Tw: animal abuse, references to pregnancy, mention of miscarriages, blood, gore, violence, death
Gender neutral uses Mx for Mr/ Mrs it’s gender neutral.
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Married life— you never saw that for yourself. You also never saw yourself fall for a military man. It almost feels like a sick joke. An unsanctioned killer meeting a legal one is a sick joke.
You met him on a work trip, honestly how you two got each other’s phone number was quite the funny ordeal. You met in line to be seated, turns out he was your seatmate. You gave him no mind, occasionally you two would give each other nods.
You notice him at the same hospital you. You were on a mission, and he had a bullet wound. Your eyes lock and life continues. With one of your work friends, you have noticed him in a group across the restaurant from you. You locked eyes, a strange thought passed between us, why are you here?
The last straw was sitting at your window seat only to hear a low “bloody hell.” You look up to find him again. You couldn’t help but laugh. This is ridiculous.
“I see you again stranger,” you smile. He scratched his head mumbling some more and sitting down.
“What’s your name?” You ask as he sits down next to you.
“Simon, you?”
“[Name], nice to meet you.”
You two had to exchange numbers, it was too coincidental. You only talk for a few minutes before going back to your own devices. You kept getting more job requests. With a sigh you picked on in England, you were heading there so might as well do a job there.
You two didn’t talk for a few months, you honestly forgot he existed. He texted you out of the blue, it was small and simple. It was a short conversation. Never too long never too deep. Occasionally when you were in England and so was he you meet up for coffee or tea.
It was casual— situational. You saw nothing long-term with him, not even a romantic relationship maybe just acquaintances. Two years— every six or more months you two would have a small conversation. Two years of on and off, before it got really serious. Before he got serious.
It was like a dam had broken loose. You answer your texts, more often. You two ended up calling too. It was fast a tumble and the relationship roared to life. It was all in a span of three months.
He moved in with you— into your expensive New York home. He brought his dog with him, Riley, a cute German shepherd. A well-trained one. Living with Simon, you learn one thing for sure— he’s a man of routine. He established on quickly.
We kept our jobs private and our relationship on the download. It took him a few months to mention his work— it was in passing that you learned he’s a special operator in the military. You are a traveling art appraiser.
You two both agreed, that work is something we don’t talk about. It was another three years of quiet dating both heavily busy. He was gone for months sometimes better half of a year, which was perfectly fine for you, you’re busy too. Very busy. It was five years into your relationship did he brought up marriage. He’s… joining a dangerous task force and wants to seal the deal.
You said yes— but before you could plan the wedding, you had to leave the game. Leave the underworld. The continental and the high table won’t let you go so easily. You’ll have to pay a debt. Before the two weeks were up you must complete an impossible task— kill the three most prominent underworld leaders. With one blood oath later, you were free.
Free from being the Baba Yaga.
Free from being Wick.
Free to marry.
Free to be a doting partner for Simon.
By the time you come back, you already started doing venue shopping for the wedding. You both agree to a private wedding with just your friends, he had none who are civilians, and he chose to keep his career away from you.
The wedding was sweet. Private with less than fifty people attended. The wedding ring barrier is Riley obedient and sweet carrying the pillow with the rings. You chose the rings, they’re thin and plain something that denotes marriage but also could be simply overlooked as accessories. The world didn’t need to know you two were married just you two.
You became a Riley. You didn’t want your old name— not the name of a killer. Neither did he, but you made it clear, you were happy to have his last name. And he was happy to live in your house. He had a slight chip on his shoulder— he wanted to provide for everything.
You came to a compromise. He pays for most of the housing utilities and you pay for the house tax. His money is the family’s money and yours was yours— and the children’s. You didn’t argue on that— you both know he could quit his job and you two could live rather comfortably on your money. But you could clearly tell providing made him very happy.
It’s what made him feel worthy… worthy of you.
Three years of marriage and most of the time he was away, always on the clock even on break. Only a few people in his line of work knew you existed, a CIA agent and his captain. No one else. And that was fine with you.
Retirement life is great. You spent most of your time figuring out what you wanted to do with your millions. Three years in and the two of you were considering starting a family. A few children would be too bad, You’re retired and Simon has mentioned retiring from the military, no time soon but in time for raising kids. You never consider raising kids. Hell, you never consider marriage or leaving the underworld life.
“My love,” you turn to see Simon setting his military bag down and rushing to you for a hug. “How have you been?” He murmurs.
“Not much Sí just wondering where I put the nursery.” You hum. From the backyard, you hear Riley storming into the living room and jumping onto Simon.
Life was blissful slow and trouble-free.
Until you decided to walk the street with Riley. Coming back from your surrogate who’s 3 months pregnant, lovely woman. Simon would bring his military friends over— forced by his team. You’re are very surprised, how strange this is but you don’t mind the new guess.
As you walk down the street at night Riley on highly guarded. You weren’t scared and had your gun in hand. Simon insisted you get gun training. Something to do with his pass. He only said he lost everyone he cared dearly and he did not want to lose you too. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you already knew how to shoot a gun.
You kept your mouth shut, he took some pride in protecting you— thinking he was protecting you. Why would you take that away from him? His sense of peace and duty? You didn’t mind playing into his fantasy. It’s rather cute seeing him be all protective, you never had that in your life until now. It was everything you wanted— to be wanted. You even got your concealed license to lessen his stress. Playing the perfect spouse was very… peaceful— heavenly really.
Riley’s sharp bark regains your attention. You look up to see a group of men running into the alleyway. You step into the shadows and hope to avoid them. They were speaking in Russian.
“What the hell man! You killed a Pregnant woman!” You froze and looked at them silently.
“She got in the way,” one brash boy sneers.
They continue to argue about killing the woman— they were only meant to rob her. Riley stayed silent but he was ready, ready to fight. You hear them stumbling closer, you make a loud noise and walk from the darkness.
This has nothing to do with you— your eyes caught something. That purse— just like your surrogate. You look at all of them up and down, at the stolen items in their hands. You recognize them all.
Your heart breaks.
That lovely woman— Anne. They killed Anne and your baby.
“What you looking at?” One points their gun at you. Riley begins to bark at them sneering and snarling his teeth at them.
“You killed Anne,” you mutter silently. You picked the surrogate— a friend of a friend. She was so happy to help you two. A thanks for helping her get het out of an abusive relationship. She had her life ahead of her.
With one swing at you, Riley jumps up and latch onto the arm. Another shot Riley in the stomach. You swing hard, mind going blank as your training kicks in, systematically each of them out. Breaking their hands, arms, and neck. You didn’t feel like letting them live.
Once you were done you pulled out your phone and called for a reservation for dinner. You left the coins on the body and ran home to get your car and take Riley to the vet.
Simon is not going to be happy, about this. About his dog, about our surrogate, about the baby. That is not the news he needed. But you called, he deserves to know.
“What’s wrong love?” He answer his tone tired and muddled. Evidently, you woke him up.
“I have bad news,” you begin.
He couldn’t come back early, he was deployed in a foreign country. The news was bad and you know Simon would be worried until he gets back. More for you— he’s worried about your feelings. Sweet man.
He liked Anne. She was bubbly and kind. Happy to be a surrogate and a babysitter if needed. A friend’s friend. He wasn’t so sure about her but you could tell she had grown on him. She was a surrogate a few times.
The funeral was shocking. The culprits never caught— of course, they wouldn’t, you handle it. You called your contacts and told them to leave the bodies out for the police to find— victims of a gang shootout. You have Anne’s remaining family and a small sense of peace.
A week passes and you continue to look for another Surrogate. Adoption came to mind, you were adopted. Not by the best people— they used you like a child soldier… so be it. Your child will be happy, you promise them that.
Would Simon consider adoption?
Does he even want children after this… mess?
You checked in on Riley his wounds were recovering nicely. You rest in your bed sleeping soundly. Your husband be back in two days.
The loud sharp squeal of Riley awoken you to a house of eerie cold silence. You scramble to your feet and go looking for Riley, maybe he opened up his wound. You appear at the top of the stairs to see— that bastard.
“Arseni.” You called out coldly in Russian, as you slowly descended down the steps. Once a brother in arms, a friend, now he’s in your house beating your dog.
“Mx. Wick,” his thick Russian accent twists into a cold sneer as he inches closer to you. “You killed my son!” He screams in Russian. You cock your head to the side, as one of his men kicks Riley to the side. He let out a loud whimper and crashed into the ground. Unmoving and still.
Your cheeks feel like a molten and a burning hell fire seers into your cheek. You clench your hands until your knuckles turn white. Your nose flares, lips pull back into a sneer. You stared at Arseni, ready to punch him.
A sharp pain seers into your abdomen as one of his followers shoots you, three rush forward with metal bats and begin to beat you. You let out a low groan as the metal left large bruises on your right side. Your head rings out in agony as one hit you in the head. Your vision blurs violently as it slowly goes blotchy and red.
You kick one of them and rush to the kitchen pulling out knives and trying to get to a hidden gun in the cabinet. The three ran after you, hitting you in the back with their bats. You stumble forward crashing into your marble counter.
Your bloody broken hands grab onto a knife and violently slash the person behind you, cutting one of their neck. You grab him by the back of his head jab the knife up into his neck and watch as the life dies in his scared eyes. You threw his body at the nearest attacker and went for the other.
You shove the knife into his torso and repeatedly punch the man in the face, breaking his nose with the second punch. Blood spewed out like a faucet.
Pew!
A bullet rips through your right biceps and into the side of your cheeks. Before losing momentum. You spat the bullet out and shoved the man in your arms against the last attack. As you did so you repeatedly stabbed the bloody man in your fist in the neck. Blood shoots onto your chest, staining your white shirt red.
You rip the knife out of his neck and face the last attacker. You plunge the knife right into his right eye and he crumbles onto the ground. You stop for a second, breathing hard as your lungs burn from the lack of air. You never stop working out, but your skills truly did become rusty. You rush to the cabinets and retrieve the gun.
You’d tumble back to the living room, your house trashed and photos burning in the middle of the expensive rug you bought. Your lips are pulled into a sharp frowning sneer. You flip the coffee table over smothering the fire pit. You stumble to your dog, Riley whimpers as you touch him, he is alive.
You grab your keys and rush Riley back to the vet, for immediate care. You left him there overnight. As you drive back your body is bruised and sore. As you drive back a car crashes into yours.
“That’s yer hoose?” Soap gawks at the large modern sleek design of the house. It’s large with a large yard— how the bloody hell did Simon afford this?
Gaz pressed his face against the window a wide smile on his face, it was a beautiful home. Price also stared, it was so American in design. It looks like a nightmare to defend with all those windows.
“My partner bought it,” Ghost grunts. His brows knit together as he saw the front door wide open, the window around the door shattered and broken.
“What the fuckin’ hell—“ he floored the car to the garage and rushed out and into his house. His living was a mess blood and dents in the wall.
“[name]!” He shouts. Silence greets him back, and his heart stops. “Riley!” Not even his dog was around.
“What the fuckin’ hell happened here?” Gaz asks slowly walking into the ruined house. Besides the mess, he could tell this house was beautiful, expensive, and enviable.
“Whit hav we got here?” Soap mutters walking deeper into the house his accident seeping into his worried tone.
“Ghost!” He shouts, seeing the three dead men in the kitchen. Ghost tore into the room and froze, his heart sunk and he rushed in checking to see if anyone was his love. They weren’t. He looked around the room and noticed that the cabinet with the hidden gun was open. He looked in, the gun was gone.
Ring ring!
He booked it to his landline a retro thing that you insisted on keeping. He lifts it to his ears.
“Is this… [name]?” A woman asks.
“No, I’m their husband,” Simon states.
“Your dog Riley just came out of Surgery, you can pick him up later today.”
Ghost signs and sets the phone down. The lady had no idea where you went after you dropped off Riley. She did tell him you were covered in blood and looked beaten up. You had refused their help to call the police. His dog is safe— but you were gone, gone with the wind.
What is going on?
His house is messed up. These random bodies are in his house. His spouse missing! What is going on?
His heart bounds violently against his chest as his heart falls. Where where you? Where were you taken? His worst nightmare came true— losing you. His hands slightly shake and he lets out a long sigh.
“You ok mate?” Gaz asks touching him on his shoulder.
“My partner is missing.” Ghost simply states. He walked to the garage, your car was gone. Your really nice vintage car is gone. His brows furrow together as anxiety sets in.
Ghost walks back into his house and pulls out his phone to call you. He hears the faint ring of your ringtone upstairs. The second floor was normal, with no destruction. In your shared room the lamp was still on, and blankets were thrown to the side.
He walked back downstairs trying to think. His eyes widened and he pulled his computer out. Sometimes he forgot about the security cameras he hid in this house, in the panic he had forgotten he set them up. The task for gather around to see what’s going on.
Simon’s blood rushed away from his cheeks, and he paled at the sight. His love, his light being beaten to a bloody pulp on the floor by some thugs. He switches cameras to the kitchen and to his shock he witnesses you kill all three. He could have mistaken the first kill as an accident. But the others look calculating, methodical— you could fight?
He hadn’t brought up self-defense classes yet. He wanted to, just in case his job would affect you and the baby…
“Damn, they can fight,” Gaz mumbled with awe. He switches back to the living room camera and watches as you flip the dining room table over to put out the fire scoop up Riley and drive off.
“I didn’t know your spouse could speak Russian,” Price mumbles rubbing his chin.
“Neither did I,” Ghost furrowed his brow. What were you hiding?
Ring ring.
Ghost stands up and answers the phone, his heart falls into the pit into the pit of his stomach. His hands slightly tremble, your prize car was found run off the road in a hit-and-run, and you were nowhere to be found.
“Mx. Wick,” you look at the concierge of the continental Hecate and smile politely. It took a few hours to get to the Continental Hotel.
“Make me a dinner reservation,” you calmly state. You had to get rid of the bodies in your house before your husband got home. She smiles and nods and makes the call for your residence.
You slide a coin over, “I like a room,” she smiles and nods setting a room up for you. You left the hotel and moved down the sketchy alleyway until you found an Asian restaurant. You knocked on the door as an old man appeared— a doctor.
“Doctor,” you greet.
“Mx. Wick,” he greets back letting you in. He was a black-market doctor. He patched you up and you limp back to the continental and heading back to sleep nicely.
You had asked Hecate to set up a meeting with the manager, Bereket Gerhold, you needed him to set up a meeting with Arseni. You sign close the curtains and go to sleep.
You’ll call Simon once this is all over. He must be worried. You aren’t the type to leave him— in the dark. He’s probably worried sick… you weren’t planning on leaving him high and dry after bringing his work friends over. How embarrassing, what a mess. You hope he didn’t find the bodies, how do you explain that? Any of this? You have a sleepless night.
Simon stared at the CCTV. He’s in shock, your Ford Mustang Mach 1, was slammed into violently by a black Mercedes. He watched it over and over again. How the Mercedes shoved your prized car out of the frame and into an abandoned warehouse where the cameras were long broken.
A bus came around. There was nobody left behind, just blood and broken car parts. Ghost caught a glimpse of the logo, the Continental Hotel. He thanks the police and leaves the station to find his team waiting for him.
“Where ur we gonna go?” Soap asks as Ghost reapproves the care.
“The continental hotel,” he states gruffly.
“There’s one in New York City, mate,” Gaz spoke up after looking up the hotel.
They drove off. Ghost had been to the hotel, he had seen it here and there. It’s an international hotel, for the rich. What were you doing there? He knows you’re rich but why go to a hotel and not the hospital? Not call him?
It’s late when they arrive at the continental. They walked in and people turned to them. They were outsiders— out of place. They ignore them and continue to walk to the front door.
“May I help you?” A woman asks.
“I want to know if my spouse is here.” Ghost firmly states.
“Name?” The woman asks.
“[name] Riley.”
“We have no one under that name.”
“…[Name] Wick.” The woman stops and looks up at him before a pleasant smile graces her lips. She picked up a phone and called someone. Simon felt his heart race, you were here.
“There are guests down here for you,” the woman says. She nods and hangs up. She handed over a key and told him the room number.
You sigh and stare at the door. Simon will be here soon. You change out of your bloody clothes and into a bathrobe. You chuck your bloody close into the bathtub.
You freeze and look at the door. The door handle slowly turns. You frown as a woman walks through the door a gun in hand. Arseni must have put a price on your head.
“Cordula,” you greet politely. “Wrong room?”
“Right room,” she pulls out her gun you just manage to dodge the bullet. You lunge at her wrestling her to the ground. She knees you in the groans a few times but you don’t let go slamming her back repeatedly into the ground.
She wrestled her hand free and shot you in the shoulder. You wince and let go of her. You back off holding your left shoulder. The door burst open and you see the burly body of your husband. He froze, seeing Cordula with a gun. Before she could even move to point it at him he had her on the ground pinned.
“Soap!” He calls in a Mohawk man steps in and switches places with him.
“My love!” He pulls you into a deep hug. He mumbles worriedly into your ear, “Why aren’t you at the hospital?” He pulls slightly away to gaze at your face. Touching it with tender care and love.
His eyes widen as he notices the blood oozing from your left shoulder. Something hit you in the side and you fall into his arms someone from outside of the hotel shot you in the side. Simon grabbed you and rushed you away from the window and out of the room.
“Shit,” you grumble in more pain. Now both sides of your torso have a gun wound.
“Gaz call the police—“
“Don’t.” You snap. You stagger to your feet and knock on the door next to your room. A familiar man answered it.
“Mx. Wick,” he greets everyone shocked, “are you working again.”
“No, can I narrow your phone?” You ask politely and a little curtly. Velimer steps aside and lets you in.
You call Hecate and tell her of the situation of the attempted murder on the continental ground by Cordula and the assassin out of the continental. She was understanding but a little dismissive.
“My husband almost called the police, I advise you to solve this, also summon the doctor to the continental I’ll be at the bar.” You hang up and give a curt nod to your neighbor.
“Let’s go downstairs,” you tell your husband and his friends.
“What do we do with her?”
“Bring her along the continental will deal with her.” You stagger off to the elevator. Simon snapped out of his shock and moved to support you even though you couldn't stand.
“You need to go to the hospital now.” He urges worry laced into his tone. You needed to tell him the truth but where do you begin? What do you say? How do you explain the madness of the underground crime world to an outsider?
Hecate was waiting for you when the elevator door opened. She took Cordula and you know her life is at an end. You stagger off to the bar. Your husband frowns watching as the strange concierge takes your attacker away.
Why were you so calm? What is going on? Why aren’t you going to the hospital? So many thoughts run through his mind as he chases after you.
“Love,” he calls out, “you need to go to the hospital, not the bar.”
“Relax—“
“You are bleeding!” He snaps not directly at you but at the whole situation. He’s stressed and very on edge. The one thing he spent years trying to protect is injured and he has no idea why. How wasn’t safe, this hotel isn’t safe, sure the hospital would be safer than here.
“Simon,” you sigh, he wouldn’t understand, “I am the safest here.” He looks at you strangely and watches as you walk to the bar.
Ghost stared at your staggering shuffle. Why were you acting so strange? He turns around to turn to his team. They had the same look. The strange woman comes back and Ghost approaches her.
“What is going on?”
“What do you mean?” She asks politely.
“Why did she attack my spouse?” He asks in a low dark tone. The woman pursed her lips before breaking into a smile.
“Codula broke the rules—“
“What rules?” Soap steps toward.
“The rules of the continental.” The woman smiles.
An old staggering man rushes into the hotel, the clerk points towards the bar and he waves rushing by with a man old fashion doctor's bag.
“Who’s attacking my spouse?”
“Have they not told you?” The woman leans forward. Ghost looks down at her tag, Hecate. She smiles.
Ghost backed up and b-lined it to the bar. He found you sitting in a recliner getting your shoulder wound checked out.
“My love,” he calls out his tone shaky but stern. You look with tired eyes and his heart aches in pain. You look so exhausted and tired. Are you scared?
“Who’s attacking you?”
“His name is Arseni Anastas—“
“The Russian mafia boss!” His eyes widen. He rushes over grabbing your hand gingerly and with care.
“What happened?” He searches your eyes with a worried expression. Your calm gaze didn’t help ease him, were you just petrified that you just couldn’t comprehend what was going on?
You calmly pull out a cigarette which is something you do only in times of stress if the furrowed brow deepens. You took a puff and blew out the smoke.
“Simon,” you softly stare leaning your forehead against his. “What I will tell you will change your opinion of me forever, you might hate me, you might want to leave me, but can you promise me you’ll listen?” You ask holding your pinky out for a promise.
“Promise,” he utters linking his pinky with yours.
“I am a former hitman. Arseni Anastas is targeting me because I recently killed his son, who killed our surrogate and child.” You answer with a concise tone.
He bolts up and takes a walking lap around you and the doctor who moved down to your torso to clean the wound. He looked at you before looking away there was a pained look in his gaze.
“Why didn’t you walk away?” He finally asks.
“Anne didn’t deserve to die like that,” you state taking another drag of the cigarette, “besides I found those fuckers after they did it. They weren’t remorseful.” You hum.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I didn’t realize it was Arseni’s bastard son… still would have killed him.” You hum. The doctor finishes up and you hand over a gold coin. He gives you a nod before hustling away.
“Would you and your friends like drinks?” You turn to your passing husband.
“Don’t run away from this conversation—“
“I’m not Simon, but I hate for your friends to stand around clueless. So let me get them some drinks and you can collect your thoughts before we talk again.” Your state.
Ghost and look at you eyes widening, Are you always this commanding? It’s so different. You used to go with the flow. He watches as you walk out of the bar dragged his team to the bar and paid for their first few drinks.
They sat at the counter giving you two some space. You got Simon some whisky and sat it down on the table and sat on the recliner again. You gesture to the other seat and Simon sat down.
“How long?”
“I’ve been one my entire life raised in this— economy.” You hum taking in another drag of the cigarette and letting the smoke set in your lungs before breathing it out.
“When did you quit?”
“Right before our wedding.” He stared at his glass of whisky. He couldn’t look at you.
“You lied about your job—“
“It’s my part-time job,” you correct, “it wasn’t a lie just not the full truth.” He down the drink and look you in the eyes. There was nothing but betrayal in his gaze. How could he ever trust you again?
“Is that where you got all this… blood money?”
“… Naturally.” He felt his gaze burn into your face searching for humanity. You like to look away but that is cruel for him, he deserves to know.
“So my dog was hurt because of you.” You take a sip of your bourbon and sigh. You feel the divorce coming.
“Arseni’s son…. Would have mugged me either way and you trained Riley to defend me, he would have gotten hurt either way. I saw red that night and killed him and his friends.”
You look into his pained eyes. He could barely look at you. You set your drink barely drink on the table and leaned in. Letting the smoke of your preferred poison ruin your mind for a microsecond.
“Simon, they broke continental rules trying to kill me.” You tilt your head and stare at him, “I am more dangerous than Arseni.”
You stand up and look at his friends before turning back to Simon, “Go home, let me handle this.”
“Are ye crazy,” the two of you turn around to see the Mohawk one, Soap was it… yelling “Ghost yer gonna let them do ‘is by themselves?” You turn back to your husband, Ghost? He looked at you.
“What’s your plan?” Simon asks after a moment of silence. You know he worked hard on controlling his emotions, he didn’t want to be like his father.
“I’m going to have a meeting with Arseni, he leaves me alone or I kill him.” You state. He frowns, that wasn’t a plan.
“Do you know what you're doing?”
“Yes, Sí I’ve been killing far longer than you, do you know what you're doing?” I ask. Not to be condescending but as a warning. He looked at you, you didn’t know to ask condescending questions, so he didn’t take it as that.
“And how do you know he won’t shoot you before the meeting.”
“You can’t kill on continental ground.” You state. They all look at you strangely. They all had the same look, what kind of rule is that?
“Surely you do realize the underground world is far older than your government? Then your military? Then the political wars? I live in a world of honor and regulations. I am the safest here.” You reiterate your words from before. You could see realization dawn on his face.
“How are you going to… kill him? What if he stays here permanently? You won’t be able to kill him,” Simon states.
“Well… your CIA friend must be looking for him. Either I get him or your government gets him.”
“So you're using us—“
“Don't overthink it, love,” you said looking down at him, “my other plan was to scorch the earth. Originally I was going to hunt him down… personally that’s still my preferred method but I like to end this as on as possible.”
“Damn Ghost yoo found yourself a spitfire!”! Soap cheers which earned him a glare.
“Oh,” your turn back to Simon. “I owe a Blood Oath to an Italian mobster.”
“What does that mean?” He leans back folding his arms. He’s guarding himself from you.
“If he comes to find me, I must do what he asks. It is a blood debt.” You state firmly.
“And why do you owe him one?”
“Because I left this life to marry you.” You state which took him by surprise.
“Can we talk in the lobby?” Simon asks setting his empty glass down. The confusion was gone and he made up his mind, or at least he came to redemption.
You two walk into the semi-quiet lobby the air conditioning drowning out some of the muttering of other people. A few turn to you, of course, they did. You two found a small corner to stand and talk.
“…why didn’t you tell me?” That was all he could say.
“I didn’t want to chase you away.” You honestly tell him. He cups your face rubbing his thumb tenderly against your cheeks.
“I wish you told me before all this.”
“This is pretty last minute.” He slightly cracks a smile.
“Let me help you.” He murmurs pulling you into a hug.
“I don’t want you getting hurt.” You mutter back.
“[name] I can’t know you're doing something dangerous without me… I can’t lose you, too.” You pulled you close and kissed your lips tenderly. As you pull away you see the manager walking in.
”[name],” you pull away and he turns around to look at the older man. He’s in his 50s or 60s by the look of him.
“Berket,” you greet walking up to him.
“And what do I owe the pleasure of Mx. Wick?” He asks with a fond smile.
“Set up a meeting with Arseni, I like to chat.” You fold your arm.
“Why?”
“Simply we need to chat,” he stared into your eyes before nodding.
“You must be their husband,” Berket turns to Simon with a strange smile looking up and down.
Ghost felt his body tense under his gaze. He gently grabs onto your arm protectively. He didn’t like this man, how he talked to you like you were a child. It infuriated him.
“They did quite a lot to leave this life for you, an almost impossible task.” He walks past and towards Hecate.
“What does he mean, love?” He asks softly still holding onto your arm. His grip travels down and he laces his fingers with yours.
“To leave this world you must do something major, most can’t do the task that is asked of them. I was able to, after getting help— the blood Oath.” You explain.
“You’re not truly out are you?” He mutters pulling you into a hug once more.
“Not fully, once I finish that blood Oath I will be.”
“Are you sure?”
“I hope so.” He frowns as he studies your face.
“What did you get us into?” He murmurs before lifting your chin to kiss you deeply.
“Us?” You ask.
“Us.”
“Who knows,” you murmur.
“Let’s get back to the others and figure out an actual place,” he takes you by the hand and walks back for the bar. “And we can get you some clothes later.”
You blink a few times before chucking, “I forgot I was wearing a robe.” He chuckles and you find the three chatting with the bartender.
“Is there a private place to talk?” He asks me.
“Go get them and I’ll talk with Hecate.” You hum. As you turn to leave he didn’t immediately let go he looked at you longingly before slowly letting go. He watched you leave.
You approach Hecate, “I need to use your armory.”
“Why?”
“Need a quiet and safe place to talk with my husband and his colleagues, my hotel room isn’t safe.” She froze for a second before smiling.
“Of course.”
“Will you also bring me a new suit?” You ask. She nods. You turn around to see all four men walking towards you.
Hecate walked us to the vault and the men froze gazing at the wall-to-wall guns on display and a nice couch in the middle. You sit down on the couch, your husband joining you. The other leaned Against the wall or checked out the guns.
“Why so many guns?” One asks. The other one, besides Soap, pulled out a cigar and began to smoke.
“Safety protocols.” He turns to you confused.
“So the plan?” The cigar man asks.
“Arseni Anastas leader of the Russian Mafia will be coming here for a meeting with me, with the help of the manager,” you start.
“We can contact Laswell to see if they are looking for him,” Simon speaks up.
“We can call the police swat team—“
“We bought them out,” you state interrupting Soap.
“The FBI will have to send their people, people who have nothing to do with this hotel chain or this world.” You state fiddling with the helm of your robe.
“So this place is highly corrupt?” Cigar man asks.
“Completely.” You state looking at all of them. The room grew silent as each began to think.
“Can’t you just kill him?” Soap asks.
“I can but not on continental grounds. I’m bound by rules.” He nods.
“Let’s contact Laswell, she might have a plan.” They nod. The cigar man pulled out his phone and began to call someone.
“So…” the dad cap man begins, “is the… Baba Yaga real?” He asks.
“Yeah is he?”
“Gaz, Soap,” Simon said sternly.
“What?” Dad Cap asks, “If their other hitmans out there surely the Baba Yaga is real!” Soap and Gaz turn to you expectingly.
“Yeah Baba Yaga is real.” You sigh, you forgot about your notoriety, you forgot to tell your husband. This could break your relationship again… fuck!
“Who? Baba Yaga hasn’t been seen in years did he finally die?” Gaz folds his arms speculating.
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“I retired.”
“Oh— Your Baba Yaga?” Soap said his eyes widening in shock. You since at his volume.
“Yeah.” He looked you up and down, you didn’t look like much. You could see Simon staring at you in shock as betrayal clouds his eyes again.
“Only the Baba Yaga could do what the high table asks and leave this hellish world alive.” You tell him sternly.
“So… you know… we are hunting you?” Gaz mumbles.
“Figured.” You state standing up as Hecate walks in with a nicely pressed suit tailored to your body “I’m shocked you hunting me when all my targets have been other criminals.” You hum as you begin to put on the pants.
“How did you track down Azhar Maktar when we couldn’t even find him?” Soap asks watching you intently as you change into the black suit.
“The continental and a few connections,” you state.
“I see… will the continental help us.”
“I doubt it, you can ask but they will turn you down.” You tell them. You put on the white dress shirt hiding behind Simon’s body to as you change. You walk from behind him suit on and ready to slay.
“Can you help us locate another man?” Soap asks.
“Who?”
“Vladimir Makarov,” your face scrunches up. Hearing that familiar name.
“That bastard.” You mumble.
“You know him?”
“Met the motherfucker on a mission, got in my way so I beat him near death. Since then every few years he sends men after me trying to kill me.” You wave your hands before walking to the wall and looking for a nice gun to have.
“Do you know where he is?”
“No, my guess is somewhere nowhere Russia.” Soap groans and looks at you with slight disappointment.
“Is Makarov part of the underground network?” Simon finally asks.
“I’m not sure, I haven’t heard of him, but he could be using a proxy.” You explain, too which he nods.
“Alright,” you all turn to the cigar man who sets the phone down. “There is a warrant on Arseni Anastas. We are given the authority to get him.” He tells his crew. They all nod.
“We’ll have to drop by a base—“
“Too far,” you inturupt Gaz. “You’ll have to work like a hitman. Let’s get you suits.” You turn to them with a wicked smile. They all look at you confusingly.
“What will a suit do?” Gaz asks.
“Besides fitting in with the continental it can also protect you from bullets unless you want to risk it.” He nods.
“So where do we get the suits?” Cigar man asks.
“I know a place. We’ll borrow a car from the continental and drive there.” You explain.
“You stay here,” Simon immediately states. He looks down at you with a serious expression, “You're the target.” You sigh but nod.
“Before you go you need to know a few things.” You state pulling out a notepad. You wrote down two addresses, one for a tailor and another for a Sommelier.
“When you go to the Sommelier ask for him and when you meet him ask for a tasting. If you don’t like what he gives ask for something robust,” they stared at you a little confusingly, “Simon in your case ask for dessert.”
“Why?” Gaz slowly asks.
“We talk in code,” you explain.
“When you go to the tailor and ask for an Italian suit, it’s for a social event, tactical lining, and rush to order. Have it delivered to the hotel, got it?” You tell them. They all nod committing your words to memories.
“Let me get some coins,” you murmur.
“Coins?”
“You need to pay for it somehow.” You walk off and walk back to your destroyed hotel room. You retrieved a handful of coins and pocketed it.
“Here,” you hand over the coins to your husband. He looked at them weirdly. “Assassin currency pays what they ask for.” He nods and studies your face.
“We’ll be back soon,” Simon kisses you on the forehead.
As they depart the hotel you let out a sigh and sit down at the bar. You order another round of bourbon and smoked another cigarette. You mind your own business as people come in and out.
A few hours passed before they returned. They looked a little frazzled and very warn out. Simon sat across from you and handed over the unused coins.
“What— that was an experience.” Soap mumbles pulling a chair up next to you.
“Are those guns legal here?”
“Yes,” you answer, “yes it is.”
“So… what now?” Simon asks.
“It’ll be a few days until the suit will be done.” You begin putting out your cigarette on the ashtray. They spent their time casing out the continental waiting for their suits to be made.
Simon spent most of his time around you, asking questions here and there. You could tell with every answer you gave stressed him out even more. You pitted him, this must be so… daunting to learn.
“Love,” you look over to see your husband walking up to you.
“Yes?”
“Let’s go over the plan again,” you sigh but nod. It’s the twentieth time he asks but you know it comes from a place of pure love.
“We’ll be having this meeting in the bar. Gaz and Soap will be sitting at the bar while you and Price watch on from the lobby.” You recite again. He nods along.
“I rather be inside the room.” He spoke up finally telling you his honest desire. You looked at him. His team agreed he shouldn’t be in the room and so did you. Not because you didn’t want him there, just if it gets tense, you didn’t want him to see you at your worst.
“It’s not up to me,” you state, but to some degree it was. He turns to you eyes full of worries and grief, eyes that seem to study you with every second his gaze lingers. You knew he was trying to remember everything about you, your face, your smile, your voice, everything.
“It’s going to be ok,” you reassure him. You touch his thigh and he gazes down at your hand. He slowly nods.
“Promise me you won’t do anything drastic.”
“I promise.”
“Wow… these suits are, are almost perfect,” Soap mused to himself as he moved his arms up and down.
“It still feels a little constrictive.” Gaz mutter.
“Italians like to hug so the suits are a little more comfortable to move around in them.” You explain as you pick up a knife and slip it up your sleeve.
“I feel like James Bond,” Gaz smiled looking at himself in the mirror.
You slightly smile and look over to your husband who silently watches you. You give him a reassuring nod before getting up.
“Are you ready men,” you look over to see their Captain, Price speak up. They nod and head out, leaving you and Simon one last moment of peace.
He pulls you close to him and softly kisses you one last time. It was far longer than any kiss he had ever given. It was a goodbye as it was a final “I love you.”
“Be safe.”
“Of course,” he left the room.
If it was anyone else besides your husband you would have laughed. Be safe… You’re the Baba Yaga, you have no need to worry. You sigh and look around the room. Your anxiety is kicking in even though you’ve done this a hundred times… was it because you have something to lose now?
Ring ring
Your hotel phone goes off, you stand up put your cigarette out in the ashtray, and lift the phone.
“Yes?” You answer.
“Arseni Anastas is here.” You thank Hecate and exit your room. You made your way down to the bar. As you enter the lobby you find both your husband and the captain sitting At opposite places slowly studying everyone’s movement.
You round the corner to the bar and there surrounded by a few men was Arseni. He turns to you with this wicked cold glare. You sat across from him.
“Arseni,” you greeted coldly.
“Wick,” he sneers back, “come to beg from my forgiveness?”
“Hardly, I am asking you to walk away from this—“
“You killed my son!” He roars before falling back to Russian insults.
“And you’re done killing my surrogate and child,” you coldly stated. He turns back to you annoyed and frustrated.
“I’ll give up when he’ll freeze over.” You stood up lit another cigarette and stared down at him.
“Then let’s take this outside off of continental grounds.” You suggest moving away from the plans.
“I’ll kill you one way or another!”
Creak!
The window to the bar shatters as a bullet hits your bulletproof vest. You sense and take cover. Arseni that fool! His men turn on you guns ready. But then both Gaz and Soap caught on to the madness.
Bullets fly across the continental bar. You see Arseni and a few of his men rush for the exit. You scramble to your feet and chase after him.
“[name!],” your husband shouted but you were out the doors. You grab the onto your suit and use it to hide your head.
As the last bodyguard left continental grounds you unsheathed your knife and stabbed him in the neck. You restless the gun from him and shot him dead.
Ba ba ba!
It hit your suit. You winced in pain. Though they stopped the bullet they did not stop it from hurting like hell. You shot two more dead. A few other hitmen came rushing out, they were waiting for you.
You lungs behind a car and check how many rounds you have left. You sigh and begin to quickly take out the hire hit. You changed up to a semiautomatic gun and mode down two more.
Arseni jumped into a car and knocked out an assassin on a motorcycle. You hopped on and raced after them, leaving the continental behind.
You chased him down to a run-down building. You groan realizing this will be a shoot-out. You enter the building slowly ready to kill your target.
They came flooding out like ants to a food pile. It was almost like an all-you-can-eat buffet. They made it so easy. You swing around ducking and dodging as you take out one person after another. Every once in a while exchanging your gun out for a newer one.
By the time you reach the final door, you are completely out of it. You were very rusty, in your skills but it seems like your body hasn’t forgotten. You know tomorrow you be sore.
“In here!” You froze and duck down behind the railing and look to see who just arrived. To your shock, it was your husband and his friends.
“[name]?” Simon calls out.
“Here,” you shout back before standing up.
“You were supposed to wait!” He worriedly stated anger laced with in his tone.
“Did you do this?” Gaz asks seeing the dead boy littering the ground.
“One last room,” you state.
“Let us handle it.” You looked at your husband before sighing and nodding.
You stared at the door, your hands itching to enter. The door slowly opens in in their costing was Arseni. He looked at you with vile and hate.
“You're a filthy pig,” he snarls. Soap pushed him forward and walked him away.
“Finally this is over.”
“I doubt it’s that simple.”
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8.4K Words
@makandcheeses, @100percentlazybonez, @selinbaskaya
103 notes · View notes
smalls-words · 2 years
Text
Couple Goals
Summary: A measly fight on the oval could not compare to a soccer goalie and cheerleader love. Especially when comments on the cheerleader are made. No power AU
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x GN!Goalie!Reader
Warnings: John Walker being rude about Wanda, blood, fights, asshole behaviour I’ve witnessed/experienced :) let me know if there’s anything else!
A/N: Based on a request for soccer!reader with Wanda where reader gets hurt, but I scaled it up a notch by putting in a similar fight to what my sister has had, and where i came in and put the girl into hospital :) (btw, it’s gender!neutral and supposed to be a mixed team, but I only named a few boys 🙈 also used some inspiration, as you will see below)
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You stood by your car in the parking lot of West View High School, with tonight as the grand final of the local schools’ soccer competition. Your team had been waiting for this moment as you went up against East View High, your arch-nemesis, who had won last year by playing dirty. You weren’t there, they’d messed you up pretty badly earlier in the year, but now you wanted revenge. 
Just as you shut your passenger door after grabbing your boots and gloves, you looked up to see your stunning girlfriend appear with a shimmer of her red jacket.
“Hi, draga (dear).” She beamed, giving you a short kiss on the lips before walking with you to the oval.
“So, Natasha and I have come up with this really cool sequence that I think you’ll like, but I really want you to see it before we show anyone else because I know how honest you are and how you never lie to me-”
You took her hand and squeezed it softly, the tiny fingers engulfed in your palm, before the words coming out of her mouth next were swallowed by your sealing kiss. You stopped walking, boots in one hand and a Sokovian in the other, and kissed her softly. 
“You, Wanda Maximoff, are a worrier.” You stated as you pulled away. 
“I am… not.” She huffed, slightly out of breath. 
“Indeed you are. Honey, anything you come up with is amazing. And that Russian? Boy does she have a wicked mind.” You chuffed, noticing the crinkle of her nose turn slightly sour. 
“That’s my best friend you are talking about.”
“Do you know why I like her mind?” You continued to tease her, wondering how far her jealousy would reach.
And you easily found out - about as far as two hands firmly tied round your waist.
“Let me remind you, I am in charge here.” She grumbled, leaning into you as you chuckled.
“I know, princess. I’m just playing with you.” Your fingers scaled from her waist up her firm but small bicep until they reached behind her ear, tangling themselves into her brunette locks.
“You know I love you, right?” 
“Mhmm.” She hummed, kissing your chest just as a whistle blew in the distance.
“Y/L/N!” Your soccer coach bellowed, signalling your time up.
“I’ll see you tonight, gorgeous.” You murmured, giving her a quick kiss before you jogged over to the team for warm-up.
Wanda didn’t even realise she was staring until she felt a nudge into her ribs, causing her to cave slightly. 
“Come on, Wands - we gotta practise in the hall before tonight, because you will not focus with that stunner in your field of view. I don’t think anyone could.” Natasha chided playfully, dragging Wanda by the hand. 
But not without her sparkling green eyes catching your loving smirk, bashful cheeks forming at the wink you sent her. 
——————————🜃🜂🜁🜄 —————————
After training, you had to quickly dash home and change into your uniform since it was different from the rest of the team - black writing on red was your team’s colours, so you had to wear light blue. You slipped on the jersey and shorts before darting back into your car, surprised you weren’t pulled over by the time you arrived.
You fumbled your boot laces on the sideline as your team warmed up, your eyes drifting around the crowd until they landed right at the front row. Wanda was there with her teammates, probably going over their strategy you had yet to see.
Warm-up was good, but you were already slightly warm from your training beforehand, so you didn’t push that hard. When the other team finally arrived, you scowled at the sight of the boy who sent you to the hospital last year. 
“Y/N, don’t.” Your mid-back, Jaden, stopped you from going towards him. 
“John’s not worth it.” 
You huffed, already knowing he was going to play dirty. You looked up into the crowd to see the cheerleaders - more specifically, your Wanda - walk down the steps to the beat of the band’s drums. 
“Who are we?!” Natasha yelled towards the crowd. 
“W-E-S-T!” The crowd responds, clearly having gone over the plan with a few of them. 
“We are the best, because we’re the west!” The girls cheered, your eyes darting over Wanda’s figure before you spotted the black and red face paint on her cheeks. 
You glared over at John, his disgusting blonde hair and his teammates before your team disperses onto the field. A gleeful grin made its way to your lips and you quickly ran over to the crowd.
“WHAT DO WE THINK OF EAST VIEW?!” You howled.
“SHIT!” The crowd responded.
“WHAT DO WE THINK OF SHIT?!”
“EAST VIEW!”
“THANK YOU!”
“THAT’S ALRIGHT! WE HATE EAST VIEW, WE HATE EAST VIEW! WE HATE EAST VIEW, WE HATE EAST VIEW!” 
Your chant sent the crowd into a frenzy, a yell from your coach to get on the field before the referee blew the whistle.
*Game on.* You thought to yourself as you mentally prepared for a massacre.
Almost ten minutes in and your left forward, Marcel, got tackled badly by John and was subbed off of the field. Another ten minutes and Jaden got tackled, to which you argued with the referee and he warned you. You knew that he was either blind or being bought out by John, who was easily the richest in that stupid preppy school. 
A corner against you was given later, to which John came up to you as the middle forward. “So, that brunette over there in the black and red…” 
You looked over at Wanda and she gave you a huge smile, shaking her pom poms as she jumped up and down, both in excitement and in your request for her to stay warm on the chilly night. 
“Is she available? She looks like a good fuck, but probably dumb as a sack of potatoes.” 
You huffed out a cloud of hot air and tried to ignore him, shuffling around and trying to screw up the kicker in the corner. He went for it and you jumped up, catching it just in front of John’s head. 
“Nope!” You jeered loudly, getting underneath their skin as you pushed John’s comment out of your mind. 
The play was on and you booted it up the field to your twin forwards, Fred and George, who were basically telepathic as they had the defenders in a dizzying dance, scoring in the bottom left corner just before the referee blew his whistle - one-nil, your way. 
After a quick drinks break and a strategy plan, you were back out on the field. Five minutes in, three of your players were down, with only one sub left. 
*Dwindling the numbers means tiring the players.* You thought to yourself, getting annoyed at John’s stupid smirk whenever he waved at Wanda.
But you were always glad to know that she was there smiling at you and only you. 
After a yellow card was given against Jaden, you were almost ready to blow the non-existent roof off of the place. The game was played slightly fairly for almost a whole quarter until a herd of their team stopped Sean, your right forward, from landing on the ground properly, causing him to hit his head.
Of course, East View continued to play, with the referee physically turning a blind eye as John sprinted down towards you. You tackled him head-on, going low to kick the ball out of the field, and you raced down to Sean. 
“Sean! Johnson! Come on, wake up!” You remembered your Health lessons and didn’t try to shake him, instead putting pressure on his collarbone. 
“OW!” He howled and you pulled away, sighing in relief until you followed the sight of his eyes.
“Coach Johnson!” You yelled, standing up slowly.
“Y/L/N!” He yelled back, your eyes drifting to him.
“Popcorn!” 
All hell broke loose.
You rushed towards John and tackled him to the ground, sitting on top of him whilst you threw punch after punch. He managed to get a few deep nail rakes through your sleeves, tearing the thin material easily. 
The referee was struggling to break up the two teams, the rivalry finally pushed over the edge until Coach Johnson came over. He pulled you and most of the others away, whilst the referee stood in front of the East View team.
“What am I paying you for if you can’t make a fucking simple call?!” John growled loudly, catching Coach’s attention.
“This game is over. I’m calling the association and you’re gonna get your licence removed.” He promised the referee, who followed him to his car whilst begging him not to.
You stormed over to your car and threw your stuff into the back, wincing as your arm bumped the car door.
“Are you okay, Iubirea mea (my love)?” Wanda asked you quietly, noticing your anger.
You turned around to face her slightly shivering form, pom poms rustling in her grip as she tried to keep warm with her arms covering her stomach. You took them from her, which she whimpered at, but you dug around in your passenger seat and opened the door wider.
“Get in, love.” You murmured, offering a jumper of yours.
She grabbed it and slipped it on, the hem reaching past her ass and the sleeves swallowing her arms whole as you drove home. You announced your presence to your parents but were too fast for them to see your wounds, even if they would ask in the morning.
You went into the bathroom, Wanda on your tail, and began to pull stuff out of the cupboards. You growled in frustration before soft hands eased the tension in your shoulders, your eyes drifting to the mirror to see her looking at you.
“You get in the shower and clean those. I’ll be back with some bandages.” She kissed the side of your head and went back downstairs.
You hopped in and out, a white towel slowly turning into an American flag lookalike until Wanda returned. She hissed at your wounds and immediately got to work, your eyes floating over her form.
“I’m gonna kill him when I see him next. I swear, that Joanne-”
“John.” You corrected.
“Whatever. He’s gonna get much worse than a bruised cheekbone, a black eye and a split lip. I’m gonna get my girls on him, just you wait and see.” She huffed.
“You’re cute when you’re angry.” You commented, making her look at you.
She moved your arms up and sat down on the towel on your lap, giving you a sly grin before she leaned in and kissed you softly. 
“Kissing me is not going to make me take it back.” You murmured, listening to her sigh.
She pulled away and finished the last clip on your bandage, helping you stand up when she noticed how you wobbled. She guided you to your bed and laid you down, the scent of her cooking drifting from the right as a bowl sat upon your nightstand.
“You made me paprikás?” You smiled softly, looking up at her bashful cheeks still stained with red and black paint. 
“I made it last night and brought it over whilst you were at training. Thought it would be a nice meal, win or lose.” She murmured, rubbing her neck anxiously.
You brought her hand away and kissed her knuckles, watching her put a pillow on her lap before the bowl went on top. She dipped the spoon into the never-ending pool of sauce, pulling out some vegetables like they were from the great beyond.
You giggled quietly as she lifted the spoon to her lips, blowing on it before it came towards you. You cheekily accepted the spoon and sealed your teeth over the edges, making it difficult for her to pull it back out.
“Draga… (Dear)...” She warned you playfully, tilting her head to the side.
You immediately let go of the spoon, swallowing down the remnants of the dish. “Sorry.” You murmured.
“It’s okay. Just… no silly games, okay?” She whispered, a slight pang of hurt in her tone. “I was really worried.”
You lifted your hand to her cheek and stroked her soft skin a few times with your thumb, nodding. “Of course, I’ll stop.” 
You let Wanda feed you the whole dish, a small conversation of how she and the other cheerleaders were talking about your team, how they all thought you were hot defending the Sokovian whilst the others protected you from the East High boys. You checked with a few of them, and surely enough, they had a few injuries too.
“Hey.” Wanda called for your attention and you zeroed in on her.
“Are you okay? Your eyes keep drooping downwards.” 
“Just tired.” You mumbled, leaning towards her for a kiss.
She meets you halfway but doesn’t extend it any further than a peck, moving to straddle you underneath the blanket before she lies down on your front. Her arms wrap around your waist and she sighs into your chest, feeling comforted when your arms do the same.
“You tired from being the prettiest girl in the school?” You joked softly, kissing her forehead.
“No, I’m tired from being the girlfriend of the most overprotective idiot in the school.” She shot back jokingly, kissing your jaw before she returned to her normal posture.
You sighed against her head, feeling sleep try to take over you even if you wanted to simply savour the calm moment. Her shampoo wafting into your hair, the way her fingertips glided over your bruised skin as if she were nothing but the ticklish wind, how her… stunning green eyes… were imprinted on the back of your eyelids…
“Go to sleep, lubirea mea (my love). I’ll be here when you wake up.” Wanda’s whisper was the last thing you heard, her kiss against your neck the last thing you felt.
But the thought of her compassion, her kindness, her sweetness and her beauty carried on into your dream.
510 notes · View notes
theexaltedbride · 11 months
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Dead Island 2 Slayers X National Guard Reader (Gender Neutral) (Part 2!)
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(Once again, art is not mine, but taken from the old TTRPG “All Flesh Must Be Eaten”, forgive me if its a crappy crop. AFMBE is a pretty good and highly modular game if you want to get your zombie fix on with some dicegames. I would also recommend the other games by Eden Studios, like Conspiracy X, Armageddon, and Witchcraft. Not enough people out there give Unisystem a try.)
Amy:
-When it comes to running PT around the manor, or around the block that has been cleared out, Amy always runs past you like its nothing and sometimes playfully swats you on the butt just to help motivate you to move it.
-She sometimes says that after they all get out of this, she might start looking into helping out with physical therapy and exercises for wounded vets with prosthetics. Give something back to the community, but she’s doing it after she wins the gold at the Paralympics and kisses you on camera of course.
-When you go to visit Patton, Amy likes to tag along. She may not know what kind of pain he feels as a soldier, but she perfectly understands what he suffered through his injury and how he must have felt when given looks by people who saw his face. It was the same kind of looks that Amy got for her prosthetic leg. She sees that you like to check in on Patton and wants to be part of it, as her way of telling you that if you were ever hurt like that, or lost a limb like she did, then she would still love you no matter what.
-Amy has seen the way you sometimes have trouble fighting zombie soldiers, and has tried to help you through it by opening up a little about how she hates learning the names of the more recently infected, because its so much easier to put them down when you think of them as just monsters. She understands what bothers you, and she is there for you.
-After plenty of gun drills out in the hills (totally not an excuse to have a secret picnic alone together...well not all the time), you’ve both decided that a pistol is the best kind of Gun for Amy. Something lightweight she can fire one handed while on the run and keeping ahead of the undead.
Bruno:
-Whenever he sees you loading up on weapons or equipment it’s going to be a tossup between a John Wick or John Rambo joke.
-In a sparring match you got a bit too into it and punched Bruno so hard it knocked him down, he played it up more while asking if you could kiss it better.
-Once in bed asked you to talk to him in a more dominant and commanding way, giving him orders. 
-When you’ve tried to determine what gun was best for Bruno, he insisted on trying out a shotgun, only to immediately get knocked onto his ass by the recoil. He had a bruise for a few days, but it was the bruise to his ego which stung the most. This soon cleared up when you figured out a single shot sports rifle with the same caliber rounds as your own, was better for Bruno rather than Semi-automatic or Full-automatic. This way you could both share the same ammunition, but Bruno could actually take his time to hit the Zeds. Anything else seemed to make him too trigger happy. 
-Once you figured out Bruno kind of wanted to impress Mr. Curtis (because he was his Grandpa’s favorite actor) you helped Bruno get some target shooting in so that the next time Curtis had any shooting competitions at the mansion, Bruno just might be able to impress him. 
Carla:
-Similar to Bruno, Carla will sometimes compare you to Hicks or Vazques from Aliens when she sees you loading up, and will throw some quotes your way.
-The scratches you both leave on each other during sparring sessions lead to a lot of jokes that you’re straight up having wild Viking sex rather than training. Carla just jokes back that if you can survive either one with her then nothing will kill you.
-You were genuinely impressed at seeing Carla pick up an M-249 SAW like it was nothing. She loved the look on your face as she just unloaded it into a horde of Zeds coming at you. Sure, most of her shots completely missed or only maimed the zombies, but that still doesn’t change the fact that you will never forget that moment. 
-As a special gift to you, Carla’s personal project is to pick out one of the military vehicles lying around that is best suited for both fighting and transporting people, and tricking it out to handle moving through the zombie infested streets. She’s gonna make it look like something out of Dawn of the Dead or Mad Max. As tribute to you, she’s naming it the “(Your Name) 2″. Since she’s not up to date on what vehicle does what, she’s constantly asking you about them.
-Carla liked her own style, but after finding out from you just how many different pockets military and tactical pants have she’s started to adopt them as part of her wardrobe and loves all the extra space she has for holding her tools and snacks and whatever the hell else she wants to carry with her in the zombie apocalypse. Pockets rule!
Dani:
-Dani regularly helps you cut and style your hair properly so you can keep it regulation standard. She find it boring and would love to go crazy with your hair. But since you want it that way, and it relaxes you to keep some uniformity to your look, she tries to keep complaints to the minimum (but insists on getting to go all out with your hair once you both leave Hell-A and your time with the Guard is over).
-Despite not being one for guns, Dani took to them like a fish to water. She passed all the tests you devised for the group with flying colors (matched only by Sam B whose had plenty of experience by now). She prefers sticking to smaller calibers with pistols and submachine guns. You even went so far as to teach Dani a few little tricks, such as how to properly move and clear a room without bumping into someone else, and communicating with gestures and touches. Shoulder touching is normally a way of communicating between soldiers among a fire team to let them know you are nearby and ready, but between you and Dani it has also taken on a more...intimate meaning as well.
-Since Dani loves to swear now and gain you’ve taken to teaching her some military swears and fun acronyms like SNAFU (Situation Normal All Fucked Up), RDS (Real Deep Shit), and Blue Falcon (Buddy Fucker IE: Backstabber / double-crosser.).
-She sometimes jokes about taking the riot gear off of a riot zombie and wearing it so that she and you can look like a properly armored pair of warrior lovers. But she likes being able to maneuver around zombies and the armor would just cramp her style.  
-Started affectionately calling you the “GI of My Eye.”, even after someone joked that it sounded more like a reference to an eye infection than something sweet (to which she punched them square in the shoulder for it).
Jacob:
-He’s normally pretty anti-authoritarian and anti-establishment, but didn’t take too kindly to Rikky Rex shit talking you in your uniform and making Vietnam War comparisons. Rikky doesn’t know you and doesn’t know what you’ve been through to save people in Hell-A while he and his gang of drunks were partying it up in Beverly Hills. It wasn’t so much an argument on your behalf, as Rikky is way too drunk to hold a coherent thought, but it was kind of nice to see Jacob stand up for you personally even if there are things he doesn’t agree with about your service and to whom you swore an oath to. 
-You and Jacob are starting to develop a Legolas and Gimli style competition over who can stack the most Zeds per mission. You both lie to try and make it sound like the other person got more kills.
-Jacob is trying to find a sleeveless vest with a camo pattern that matches your own, no luck yet but he’ll keep looking.
-You tried to get Jacob to do some gun practice with you, but he honestly swears it off and is happy to stick with clubs and hammers. He says you can pick off the zeds from a distance while he crushes the ones that get through, teamwork.
-Jacob would love to introduce you to his mother, especially if you would show up in your dress uniform, his mother has always been telling him to meet someone nice and respectable outside of the Stunt actor business. 
Ryan:
-You and Ryan had a bonding experience over sharing an MRE together. He was surprised it wasn’t total garbage. It wasn’t good, but at least it was somewhat edible, and he especially loved finding that they sometimes come with sweets.
-You once caught him wearing your helmet and vest and admiring himself in a  mirror while trying out some lines as if he were an actor. You joked to him that if he really wants to admire himself like that in private you could clean up an extra uniform and gear for him to use, but to not use yours since you need them.
-Ryan sometimes leaves little things in your helmet when you are going to be separated for missions and he knows about it in advance. This could range from sweets, to notes, to even once an old photo of him mid dance during his previous career. 
-You’ve both been practicing how to carry another person if they are injured, that’s totally why you are constantly grabbing each other. No ulterior motive at all. It’s just professionalism, even though Ryan isn’t a real First Responder. (Do you think the other Slayers bought it?)
-He has sometimes wondered what he’d look like with a more military high and tight haircut, but just can’t give up his current hairstyle. He even jokes to you that it was a good thing he had a fireman’s costume on hand, or else he never would have been able to bluff his way past the security checkpoint if he had to pretend to be a soldier.
All Purpose Headcanons:
-Once it finally gets through the heads of everyone else that you have a day job besides being in the Guard, they started coming at you with all sorts of questions about what you do and why you chose to give up part of your time off and work days doing training and other work with the National Guard. They were kind of disappointed that your answers were pretty mundane.
-When your slayer lover was thrown into the sewer pit by the Numen, the only reason you didn’t immediately try to jump in and save them was because you tried to stab the nearest Numen who was in your way, only for them to block your hits. Despite being untrained, the Numen named ‘Thurston’ was able to match your movements with frightening speed, using the barrel of his own rifle to block all your bayonet jabs and swipes, before the one called Cadenza grabbed the barrel of your rifle and bent it like a toy. Together the two of them kicked you square in the chest and send you tumbling down into the same pit as your lover.
You landed on the ground with such force it knocked the wind out of you, but before the zombies could overwhelm you your Slayer Lover jumped in, crushing the skulls of the zeds with ease, kicking them so hard they splattered against walls. Even in your lover’s frenzied state, they recognized you and knew the danger you were in, and would not allow any harm to come to you.
-When your own Numen abilities began to manifest beyond just a general boost to your body and rapid regeneration, you found that your experience as a soldier, taking orders and sometimes giving them, has influenced your powers. When you try hard enough, you can start to command the weaker autophage infected and use them like puppets to attack other infected. It is draining, gives you a real migraine, and feels...dirty when you do it. But it has been a lifesaver for the group on a few occasions so it remains a trick you can pull out when needed. You can’t do more than a dozen infected at a single time, but the more you practice, the better you get at controlling them. 
You’re also beginning to suspect that the Numen called ‘Konradt’ might have a similar power to you. Unlike her, you only use this power when necessary, while you have a sneaking suspicion that she uses it to spy on you and the Slayers.
-Your Slayer lover kept trying to throw grenades like they were baseballs and it took you a while to teach them to properly lob it overhead. Luckily there are plenty of Zeds to practice with.
-Thankfully you haven’t had to fight too many other survivors, the uniform and six other survivors at your back is enough to intimidate most raiders, but a few times now its had to happen, at least when it does you can fall back on the training.
-As dangerous and downright terrifying as it is to go out at night, sometimes you have no choice, a mission needs to be done or you need the cover of darkness to help you get somewhere far from the mansion. For moments like these you are sadly one of the better options for a moonlight run. You have yet to find any proper night vision goggles, so you have no choice but to rely on moonlight, random streetlights, or your own flashlights to get across Hell-A. Since you’re the one with an understanding of light discipline, and regularly wears camo to blend in, you are normally chosen to go out at night. Though your Slayer Lover always wants to go with you since its dangerous at night. 
-You have some small experience with CBRN and other Hazmat training, not a lot but you and the others were given a quick refresher before being sent to LA to fight the infection, so you tend to be the one helping cleanup after any major fights near a safezone. Surprisingly, Andrea is pretty good at cleaning up those messes as well. The group also tends to depend on you to clear the way whenever you encounter that caustic slime the government was using to melt down infected bodies and neutralize the virus. 
-The worst encounter you’ve had so far has been in finding infected version of soldiers and guards that you knew from before. Whatever they once were is gone now, and you struggled to pull the trigger, the Slayers helped you, they told you to just look away while they did the dirty work. There were no jokes, no quips, just fast and efficient Slaying. Afterwards, your lover refused to leave your side until they were sure you were okay, and only after you asked them to give you some space.
-The best memory so far is when you (thanks to Carla’s mechanic experience) managed to get a Humvee working and proceeded to drive it up and down the beach, giving everyone else a turn on the .50 call in the turret, while mowing down zombies left and right. You even plowed through a few smaller swarms before you slammed into a Crusher and had to bail out while it was trying to flip the vehicle. Next time you are gonna try to do it again with an MRAP. Though honestly you should get one of those working in order to safely evacuate multiple civilians at once if you ever need it.
-Since you already have some bayonet training and experience you’re starting to get good at using spears and polearms and other similar two-handed stabbing weapons.
-Sometimes when you and Patton hang out, you both slip into a lot of military jargon and three letter acronyms or slang that leaves the rest of the group completely lost. Its fun to see the utter confusion on their faces.
-You’ve had to borrow extra uniforms off of the ‘fresher’ undead and give them a thorough cleaning so you have more than one set to use throughout the week. The others have suggested just switching to normal clothes, but you can’t. This is who you are and its who you will present yourself as, especially given how many times people have looked hopeful when you and the Slayers come to the rescue.
-Sometimes you listen to Civil Defense frequencies on the radios, or over scavenged military comms and some of the reports you hear are strange. Those earthquakes that screwed up the evacuation almost felt targeted, rather than just a case of nature being cruel. Down in one of the spare rooms you are slowly putting the pieces together with a web of intrigue on a wall. The others aren’t sure they buy your theory...but you think the Earthquakes and all that slime everywhere is not natural, its something eldritch, lovecraftian even. Luciana is the only one who is into this, but you need more proof. Which might mean dealing with the Eschaton group at some point.
When you have enough proof, you’re going to send it back to the DOD, CDC, Every single Alphabet Agency and news agency, so that the world can be prepared for what is to come. You just need to be able to prove it. This might be the only chance we have to stop humanity from dying, all the lives lost, all the pain endured, it has to be worth it in the end.
Bonus: Bruno’s playlist for you.
Some of the songs Bruno has put together which remind him of you or he likes to listen when out with you.
-The Offspring “Dividing By Zero/Slim Pickens”.
-Neo Fresco “Sublimation”.
-Battlefield 3 “Steel On Target”.
-Sons of Pythagoras  “Counting The Cost”.
-Imagine Dragons “Friction”.
-Nine Inch Nails  “The Good Soldier”.
-Invocation Array “The Machine in the Ghost”.
-Jefferson Airplane  “White Rabbit”.
-Disturbed “The Curse”.
-Disturbed  “The Infection”.
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Text
Trust - John Wick
My Masterlist.
Hurt/comfort, angst, uhh lovers to enemies to lovers kind of?? , x gender neutral reader, x assassin reader
Word count: 3.8k (I got REALLY carried away lmao sorry)
Warnings: Injury, injured reader, blood, canon violence. Not proofread.
Summary: Prompted by the classic "I didn't know where else to go" trope.
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I stumbled down the sidewalk like a zombie, leaning heavily on the buildings as I passed by. I clutched my arm to my bleeding side, favoring my ankle that I was pretty sure had been broken. My matted hair clung to the edges of my face, both my hair and my clothes drenched by the steady fall of rain. I shivered uncontrollably, frozen to the bone; a combination of blood loss and the cold rain that soaked into every inch of my skin. I stopped suddenly, breathing heavily. Pain washed over me and I grunted, hunching over and pressing my palm into the steadily bleeding wound.
I straightened up as much as I could before quickly ducking into an alley, allowing myself to sink down to the cold pavement with another shiver. My teeth chattered slightly and I clenched my jaw.
I recognized the area as near the infamous assassin's retirement home, John Wick. My former 'co-worker' if you will. Before our agency had all but sold me off to another they were in debt to. Transfer, was the word they used. I had, against my will, gotten passed around between agencies, somehow ended up at an enemy agency. Every time I tried to get out of it though, I was reminded of my numerous outside debts. The agencies I worked for were the only thing keeping them off of my back.
By then, John and I had both made multiple attempts at killing each other for our conflicting agencies. He seemed to ruthlessly carry out their orders, uncaring that I was his former ally. I was nothing but an enemy, now; and soon, he became the same to me.
After he nearly killed me once, it seemed to dawn on him just what he was doing. He had dropped the fight and spared me, but I didn't know just how long this 'truce' would last. I had been careful to avoid him after that, knowing that crossing his path purposely would only be tempting fate even more.
As I considered the idea of showing up at his doorstep foggily, my hand dropped from the bullet wound in my abdomen, alerting me to the fact I was starting to lose consciousness. I took a deep breath, attempting to bring myself back. I knew going to him would most likely be a death sentence, especially in my current state. He'd finish me off, I knew that much. There was no way in hell the heartless boogeyman would tend to the wounds of someone who had tried to kill him. Former ally or not.
But I was across the city from my apartment, and I also knew if I didn't get help soon I wouldn't make it to see morning. I weakly raised my hand back up to my stomach, barely able to put any pressure on the injury. I leaned my head back against the cold brick, my head swimming, and suddenly felt warm. I closed my eyes, sighing.
The hospital wasn't an option, not for people like me. They would ask too many questions. My apartment was more than a walk away, even uninjured, let alone the condition I was in now. A taxi was out of the question too. Weighing my options, it seemed I had no other choice. I knew it was a bad idea, but I was going to die anyway. If my memory served me right, his house was only a couple of blocks away.
If it didn't? I'd end up dying in some alleyway.
I staggered to my feet, gasping in pain and running straight into the wall, bracing myself against it. I doubled over, clutching my middle and panting as dots swam across my vision. I blinked over and over again, trying to clear them.
I walked unsteadily down the deserted street, keeping close to the building for support. My footsteps echoed in the silence, the busy sounds of the city now fading into the distance.
A few more twists and turns and the noisiness of cars and the wailing of sirens grew louder. I came out onto the sidewalk of a busy street, glancing around. I recognized a street sign. I stumbled to the curb, steadying myself on the light pole and not even bothering to look before I crossed the street.
A car roared up on me, the bright headlights making my head pound. The tires of the Toyota squealed as it came to a sudden stop. I heard cursing before the driver blared their horn. I hastily staggered to the other side of the street, unable to see. White hot pain filled my pounding head.
I stumbled on the curb, sticking my arms out in a last desperate (and stupid) attempt to break my fall. I couldn't muffle my cry of agony as my body came into contact with the unforgiving pavement. I rolled onto my side, clutching my side and balling up defensively. I whimpered pathetically when I felt the wound tear even more at the sudden movement.
Not allowing myself a moment of rest, I feebly pushed myself onto all fours before lurching to my feet. I leaned wearily against the building, gaining a fraction of my sight back. The dots had turned into entire dark spots and the edge of my vision had a sort of vignette to it.
Even through my blurry vision, I recognized his porch immediately. I stumbled unsteadily up the stairs, my head suddenly swimming with second thoughts. I immediately realized what a horrible, stupid idea this was. He would kill me on sight, no doubt about it.
I had been standing in front of the door, finger resting on the doorbell. I pulled away, swaying on my feet, and took a step away from the door. My legs buckled underneath me, unable to support me any longer. I barely had the energy to utter a quiet noise of pain. I squeezed my eyes shut.
The sound of a dog barking brought me back to reality seconds later, along with a man's voice. Both were faint but I was unsure if it was because I was on the verge of unconsciousness, or because they actually were further back in the house. I felt a pang of fear, struggling to my forearms. I fell back down to the porch, all my strength leaving me. I feebly curled into a loose ball in a last desperate attempt to protect myself. I fought to keep my eyes open.
The barking quieted before I heard heavy footsteps from inside the house. The door opened and I flinched, curling my arms around my abdomen.
I heard John's voice and I managed to turn my head slightly. "Are you being followed?" He repeated sharply, his eyes withdrawn and calculating.
"I don't know." I whimpered out pathetically. I coughed, the mere action of speaking irritating my lungs. I wheezed, curling into myself and tucking my chin to my chest.His body language was that of an assassin as his sharp eyes carefully took in his surroundings.
I heard his bare feet hit the floor as he took another step closer to me. A strangled, fearful noise escaped my throat, and one of my arms hastily unwound from my waist to shield my head, as if that would protect me. When nothing happened, I looked up carefully, my head pounding. He walked right past me, down off of the porch. I almost felt..afraid; but not of him. Afraid that he would just leave me here to die. That was somehow a worse scenario to me than if he just finished me off himself. I drifted in and out of consciousness, my eyes fluttering open and shut, watching the silhouettes of small insects flutter around the porchlight. His concerned face came into a blurry focus the next time I opened my eyes. He crouched beside me. I suddenly noticed him tucking something into his waistband, what I could only presume was a gun. I weakly pushed myself back with my arms, panic seizing my chest. I panted, my eyes wide in fear.
"I'm going to help you. Don't worry." His voice was softer now; it had lost its harsh edge from before. That still wasn't enough to reassure me though, and as he reached for me, I flinched back.
"I'm sorry I- I didn't know where else to go." I choked out painfully. I struggled onto my forearms, adrenaline flooding into my veins and giving me the little bit of strength I needed to brace myself up. I somehow managed to push myself into a sitting position. He hovered over me, reaching out as if to help me but not quite touching me. I leaned against the wall, slumping against it in exhaustion. I instinctively crossed my arms over my torso, weakly pressing a hand to my wound. All the energy seemed to drain from my body at once, and my eyes tried to shut against my will. I shivered. My body began to tilt to the side. I made no attempt to brace myself against the concrete, instead embracing it and slowly lying down, curling into a wheezing, miserable ball.
I watched wearily as John hesitantly reached for me again. I flinched slightly when his large hand rested carefully on my waist. I tightened my grip around my wounded stomach, using the last bit of energy I had. His eyes were trained on my face, gauging my reaction. My vision blurred and darkened dangerously around the edges.
"It's okay. You're okay." He promised when I shrank further into myself.
"What happened?" He questioned. I felt his hands begin prying my arms from my middle. I whimpered in protest but I was too weak to fight him. A faint wave of panic washed over me. I choked out a cry of pain when I felt an agonizing pressure on my stomach. I clawed feebly at his hands, blood bubbling in my throat. I coughed.
"Stop." I begged, my legs kicking uselessly. This was it. "Please." I gasped out.
"Sorry, sorry. " He apologized breathlessly. A hand reached up to stroke my cheek for a brief moment before returning to my stomach. I choked out a sob. I stilled reluctantly, my breaths shallow and painful. I knew there was no getting out of this now; I was at his mercy.
"Who did this to you?" He asked harshly, his voice faint. I tried to mumble out an answer but my lips wouldn't part and my tongue swelled in my mouth. My shallow breaths slowed, my eyes fluttering shut. I let myself drift off.
I groaned, rolling onto my side and clutching an arm to my torso. The blankets entangled me, causing me to panic as everything came back to me. I bolted up, immediately regretting it and falling onto my back with a choked whimper.
I heard the door open. I weakly shuffled over to the far side of bed, my face screwed up in pain and my breath hitching in my throat. John rounded to the other side, already seeing what I was trying to do. My pulse quickened, panic clawing up my throat as he neared. I pushed myself back with a weak cough.
His hand rested firmly on my shoulder as I braced myself on my elbows, my body shaking pathetically with each cough.
"Get away from me." I choked out, still attempting to shuffle away from him. I turned onto my side, grasping my stomach in pain with one arm. I fell back on the pillows weakly, winded. I noticed he had sat in a chair by the bedside, reaching for a glass on the nightstand.
I watched him wearily as he offered me the glass of water, my throat raspy and begging for relief.
He sighed. "If I wanted to hurt you in any way, I would have already. Drink. It's just water, I promise."
I couldn't argue with that, though I wanted to. I took the glass from him, sipping at first, hesitant of any weird tastes, before gulping it down. He hastily pried the glass from my hands.
"You're going to make yourself sick." He explained.
"I'm thirsty." I protested weakly.
"I know. Slowly." He said carefully, handing the glass back to me. I took slow sips this time, even though all I wanted to do was chug it all down. My entire body ached and throbbed as I handed him the glass back, falling onto my side in exhaustion. I wrapped my arms around myself and buried my face into the pillow. I let out a shallow sigh.
“How are you feeling?” He inquired, his eyes glancing over my form.
“It hurts.” I mumbled into the pillow.
“I’m sorry.” He apologized. I raised my head suddenly, propping my upper half on my elbow.
“It’s not your fault.” I said. “I should be the one apologizing-”
“No.” He cut me off. “No, I mean..I scared you. You were scared of me. You shouldn’t have been, you came to me for help.”
“We weren’t exactly on best of terms the last time we saw each other.” I reminded him, unsure how else to reply. The man I had worked with years ago - the assassin - hadn’t been this apologetic or caring. He had his moments, but nothing like this. It surprised me.
“I know. I regret that.” He sighed, scrubbing his face and leaning forward. He hung his head, his long hair covering his face. He was quiet, but I could hear the gears turning in his head as he thought of what to say. He never had been a man of many words, but I had known him better than anyone.
“I regret allowing you to continue this..this way of life.” He admitted quietly, raising his head to meet my eyes again and slightly gesturing over to me. I could see guilt in his eyes, and pain. Too much pain. So much that it hurt me, too.
“John, it’s not your fault. It’s not like you could have really stopped me anyway.” I gave him a half smile. We both knew how stubborn I could be. I reached over to place my hand over his in a comforting gesture. I let my instincts guide me, unsure how else to act. I had never had to comfort anyone in my life, let alone the formerly stoic and withdrawn assassin.
He flipped his hand over, capturing my cold fingers in his warm palm. I sighed. "You have no idea. I hated leaving you behind.I hated myself for getting out of that life and not taking you with me. You don't deserve it." He said, sucking in a shaky breath. He averted his eyes from mine, staring at our intertwined hands.
"I was too caught up in that world, you know that. I still am. The normal world just isn't for me." I said quietly.
"So was I. I got out of it, so can you. Let me help you." He pleaded. The vulnerable, caring man in front of me was nothing like the one I had worked with years ago.
"I can't. I can't involve you in any of this, you know that as well as I do, John. You're going to get dragged back in." I shook my head. I suddenly winced, inhaling sharply. I laid back down on the mattress, my energy drained. He hovered over me in concern.
"I'm fine." I tried to reassure him. I broke off with a cough, a sharp pang irritating my lungs. I felt the mattress dip with his weight as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. I erupted into a coughing fit. Tears of pain welled up in my eyes. I shifted onto my side, then onto my forearms, resting my forehead on the pillow as my body shook with each cough. I felt his hand rubbing gentle circles on my back. He said soothing words that I couldn't make out.
As the coughing fit subsided, I relaxed limply into the mattress. I felt him slide his arm across my chest, gently pulling me up against him. I leaned into him, sighing. His body radiated heat compared to my own.
"Thank you." I slumped against him completely, exhausted. I closed my eyes, a feeling of safety washing over me, with his arms wrapped protectively around my injured body.
"I missed you." He said softly, resting his chin on the top of my head. I felt him dip his head down, pressing his lips to my hair.
"I missed you too." I murmured, beginning to nod off. He must have sensed my exhaustion. Still holding me to his chest, he shifted, lying sideways and carefully pulling me down with him. The movement startled me at first, but I quickly settled down, pressing myself closer to him. He laid still as I drifted off my hand falling away from his. Right before I fell asleep, I felt him untangle himself from me, pulling away. I whined in protest.
"Stay here." I mumbled.
"Are you sure?" He asked hesitantly. He may have been a killer before, but he had always been a gentleman, and apparently he had never stopped.
"Please." I turned onto my back, my arm draping across my stomach. Wordlessly, he settled back down beside me, carefully resting his arm over my own and entwining his fingers with mine. I hummed contentedly, falling asleep.
"It's too soon for you to be up and walking around!" John ordered as I limped into the kitchen.
"John, I'm fine. I'm feeling better, I'm healing! It wasn't that bad." I argued, sitting at the island with a wince.
"You showed up on my doorstep nearly dead less than three days ago, scared shitless. Don't tell me it wasn't that bad." He said lowly, turning away from the coffee maker. His face was hard as he sat across the island from me.
"I can't keep taking up your bed forever."
"You're not." I couldn't argue with that. He had slept by my side the past few nights, and they had been the best nights I sleep I had had in years. No night terrors. It helped my healing immensely.
I sighed in frustration. "I have a life to get back to."
"That's not a life." He frowned.
"I know. I don't have a choice." I said softly, looking down at the table.
"You do. Stay with me." He was serious.
"I already told you; I'm not dragging you into this. This is my problem. You're retired, old man." I added jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. In reality, there wasn't a big age difference between us. Life just had different plans. He was smarter with his, while I had gotten too caught up in the underground world; and now, it had caught up to me, and I was going to be forced to pay the price.
"Who's after you?" He asked suddenly, ignoring my attempt to clear the tense atmosphere.
"I can't tell you that." I argued.
"Yes you can."
"...My company." I sighed in defeat.
"Why?" He pried.
"I owe a lot of people, you know that." He nodded, his frown deepening. "Well..that's why I had no choice but to be passed around. That's why I had to leave. Believe me when I say I wouldn't have left you if I had a choice. You were the one person in that world I felt I could trust." I admitted quietly before continuing.
"These people I always worked for, they were the only thing keeping these other people I owed off my ass. If it weren't for their protection, they would have collected their debt a long time ago." I didn't elaborate; I didn't have to. He knew exactly what I meant. "I fucked up on an assignment. Bad. I cost them big time. That's why they want me. My own company is on my ass now." I laughed humorlessly.
"Do you still work for…." He trailed off, not daring to say the name aloud.
"Yeah."
"They're ruthless."
"I know."
"They're ruthless." He repeated. "They're not going to stop looking for you until you're dead."
"I know." I repeated in irritation.
"You can't go back out there." He said softly.
"I told you, I don't have a choice. If I don't, they're going to come looking for me. They're going to come here. I don't want that."
"That's not your decision to make."
"What, do you want them to come here? Do you want to get involved in this?" I spat at him, standing abruptly. I doubled over, gripping the countertop with paper white knuckles. I hissed in pain, curling an arm around my stomach. He was quick to round the island, coming over to me. I ducked away from him.
"I'm fine."
"You're not. Sit." He ordered. I backed away from him, stubbornly refusing to follow his orders. I was still swaying on my feet, having just evaded death mere days ago. My body ached, begging for rest.
"Listen." He sighed, softening his tone. "I don't want you going out there. It's not safe. You know what they're going to do."
"I know exactly what they want to do, and I'm not letting it happen. I've evaded all those assholes I owe for the better part of my life. I'm still here."
"You've had people helping you. Covering for you." He pointed out.
"Not always." I argued, slowly straightening up. "And I never trusted them."
"Is that really how you want to live the rest of your life?" He asked. I didn't miss the slow, deliberate steps he took towards me, but I didn't back away.
"It's a little too late for second chances, John." I laughed dryly. "I'm knee deep in all this bullshit. More than that, actually."
"It's never too late." He told me quietly, placing his hands on my shoulders. I looked up at him, meeting his sincere gaze.
"You said I was the one person you could trust?" I nodded wordlessly. "Then trust me. Let me help you. Please."
"Okay." I agreed softly.
I trusted him. I had never stopped.
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imajinxnation · 2 months
Note
Hi love! Pretty sure requests are open, if not please delete this, any who can I request all the keanu reeves characters (or the ones of your choosing, but please add Constantine) and reader asking them "would you still love me if I were a worm" 😁😁😁
Worm??
Keanu Characters x Reader
SUMMARY // "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"
TW // Fluff, Cussing..
Just to let yas know, when I just say Reader, it means it's gender neutral.
ALL GIFS FOUND ON PINTEREST
John Constantine
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As soon as that sentence comes out of your mouth, he freezes and stares at you. He just stares at you, brows furrowed, thoughts running through his head on what to say to that. In the end he has no idea what the fuck to say to your weird question.
"Did I hear that right? Did I REALLY just fucking hear that?" He asks, more to himself than you.
"Yes, you heard me right, now answer my question!" You reply.
John sighs before thinking about his answer carefully, not wanting to upset you over this ridiculous question.
"If you were a worm, would I still love you?.. I'd keep you in a container filled with dirt and whatever else worms need."
He answers with that before walking out of your shared apartment to get some fresh air, and to have a smoke to relax after that unreasonably stressful question.
Just take what he said as a good thing, cause that's the best answer he's gonna ever have.
Ted Theodore Logan
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I feel like this dude would try to think up a whole speech about how he'd love you no matter if you were a worm, an alien, or literally anything. He'd try to think of a speech, but fail miserably, instead his mouth just spouts out some real stoner shit.
"Dude/Dudette... I am like the dirt to your worm!" He says with a bright, goofy smile.
He's smiling, but dying on the inside at the dumb shit that just came out of his mouth. He is mentally kicking himself so hard that he doesn't see your happy face that understood what he meant.
He comes out of his self embarrassment when he feels you hug him.
"Ted that is so sweet!" You say, making him feel better.
He hugs you back and kisses your forehead, glad you understood what he meant.
John Wick
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Oh Jesus H Christ, give this man a break, really, he loves you, but sometimes he questions why, and this is one of these moments.
He doesn't answer your question until late at night when you're going to bed, needing the whole day to think about a perfect answer for your odd question.
"As long as it's still you, I couldn't care less if you were a worm, love knows no bounds."
And now you're crying, thank you Mr. Wick. But seriously, that's probably the best answer you could have ever gotten.
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strawberrywrites · 5 months
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You Should Be Here
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Dividers by benkeibear, morbidweb, and firefly-graphics
Note: This is about grieving of losing someone. You passed away in the hospital while John was there (Like how Helen died), so this is how John Wick moves on from your death with the grieving process. This is his POV in writing in his journal.
(John Wick x Dead Gender Neutral! Reader)
Warnings: Pure sadness, 5 stages of grief, death
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(First stage- Denial)- Reader, this is the hardest to accept that you're gone now. You gave me a puppy as a gift, and I never got to say thank you. You told me to move on and I don't think I ever will. I promised to keep you in my life, and I will never break that promise. I miss you cooking breakfast in the kitchen every morning now I'm eating cereal since I'm not that great at making food. I bet you're thinking that I should be looking up on how to cook but you know I'm not good with technology. I miss how you sing, and it would put me at ease. Now the house is dead silent and I'm restless now. Anyway, I really miss you, and I'm not giving up on writing about you.
(Stage 2- Anger)- It's not fair that you're dead and I'm still alive Reader! I want to die! They killed the puppy and stole my car. I'm going to make them pay! It feels like my world is coming down because of your death! You were sick and I couldn't help you! I'm thinking of coming back Reader! Damn Viggo's son for doing this and I will bring him to hell for what he's done!
(Stage 3- Bargaining)- Reader, I would do anything to be with you again. I killed a lot of people and I feel like dying with the stab wounds. I got a Pitbull dog who was about to get euthanized. You would've loved him and he's a good dog. I guess dying is worth the wait.
(Stage 4- Depression)- I can't take this anymore Reader. I can't stop watching our video with us at the beach and you smiling at me. it wasn't a perfect video, but I tried. You made my world a better place and that was my happiness. You were my happiness and now it's gone it seems after you passed away. My happiness died with you.
(Stage 5- Acceptance)- Well, Reader, I'm back in the game. I'm not done with this life of mine, and I hope one day I get to see you again just not yet. I hope you can forgive me one day for what I did, but I did this for you and me. I bet you and Daisy are having fun and waiting for me to come back to you both. Please continue to wait for me for as long as you want. I love you so much, Reader.
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trailerprk-princess · 2 years
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┌── john wick ──┐
!!!: my work is not to be reused without credit/permission!
works without warnings dont have one!
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symbols: ^ angst - • fluff - * nsfw 
—dating john wick headcanons (what it would be like to date john wick)*
warnings: nsfw & not edited!
pairings: john wick x fem!reader
✼  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉ ✼
—john wick with short s/o headcanons (what its like being shorter than him)•
warnings: sex joke but a reference to death note
pairings: john wick x gender neutral!reader
✼  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉ ✼
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request rules
masterlist
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