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farfaras · 1 year

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I think I got an ex but I forgot him

Part 1.

Part 2. (You’re here!)

Part 3.

They came up with ground rules, boundaries were important and whatnot. However, they didn’t plan on doing this for long, so they also had to come up with a believable storyline for the future course of the relationship.

This is what they have so far:

Only Dustin knew, it would stay that way. For now.

Hugs and holding hands was okay.

Pet names that were allowed included: babe, baby, honey… and that’s about it.

This will last only one or two months to really sell it.

No kisses required.

As for the storyline. That was a little bit harder to come up with. Obviously the timeline was a no brainer. They got together two weeks after Jonathan and Nancy broke up. Jonathan tried to protest. “That makes me look bad.” “Yeah well, you dating me overall makes you look bad.” “Makes you look weird, then.” “Whatever.” But they didn’t have too many options, it was that or the literal last week. And call them paranoid, but Steve thinks Dustin would see through that.

When that was out of the way, they planned the way their (fake) relationship would go wrong. “Maybe I realized I was a rebound.” “Do you want Dustin to hate me?”

At the end, what they agreed on wasn’t even that far off. They came up with phases they had to complete. Hopefully they would be able to showcase that Jonathan started dating Steve because he was supposedly just lonely and needed someone, he didn’t realize what he was doing and didn’t mean to hurt Steve. They would say they talked it out and decided to stay friends because that would be for the best. No hard feelings.

Phase one. Jonathan being an attentive and affectionate boyfriend. Steve gushing about it to Dustin.

Phase two. Jonathan spends less time with Steve. Steve starts saying he misses him now and again.

Phase three. Jonathan acts distant. Steve is freaking out.

Phase four and final. Jonathan realizes his mistake and ends things.

It was almost foolproof! And they only had to really fake in front of one person, so it shouldn’t be that hard. Steve didn’t want Jonathan to come out just because Steve needed a favor. This seemed like the best way to do it.

They were hanging out in Jonathan’s room, everything was set and all they needed to do now was act like a couple in front of Dustin and stand a little closer when they were in bigger groups if Dustin was there.

Easy.

But for another day. All they wanted to do right now was just chill.

Steve heard someone knocking on the front door. It was incessant and loud. They wanted to have a chill night but whoever was there, was starting to get annoying.

“Aren’t you gonna…?” Steve pointed to the direction the sound was coming from. “Are you gonna get the door? Are you expecting someone?”

“Nah, ‘s probably a salesman or something. They’re annoying but they’ll be gone soon.” Jonathan muttered, and he really didn’t seem at all bothered by the persisting knocking.

They heard Will come out of his room. “Seriously!” Teenage irritation and disdain. Classic. Looks like he’s gonna get the door.

As soon as the door opened, they heard a familiar voice. What was Dustin doing here?! Was he here to ask Jonathan about Steve? If that’s the case thank god Steve got to Jonathan before Dustin. This kid is something else.

“Is Jonathan here?”

“Wha- he’s in his room. Why?”

“I need to talk to him for a bit. Alone.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Just- I’ll go to your room later.”

Oh Dustin really is here to talk to Jonathan.

Steve jumped in the bed and turned to Jonathan. “Quick. Cuddle me.”

Confusion was all over Jon’s face. “Huh?”

“Dustin is coming, just do it!” He whispered.

“Ugh. Harrington.” Complained Jon.

“That’s babe to you. And you said hugs were fine. Cuddles are just long hugs, come on.” Steve laid in the bed next to Jonathan.

Jonathan turned him so he could spoon him. Steve has never been the little spoon before, but it was kinda nice. They were settling when they heard a knock on the door. “Who is it?” Asked Jon.

“Dustin, can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.”

When he opened the door his eyes looked like saucers. “Oh my god, it’s true.”

Steve just raised an eyebrow at his antics. He closed the door and sat down in the chair by the desk. “You guys are actually dating.” Dustin whispered-yelled.

“What? You didn’t believe me?”

“I’m a scientist! I need proof to believe stuff!”

Steve and Jonathan got up and sat down by the edge of the bed. They were pressed together, thighs and shoulders touching. Jonathan took his hand and laced their fingers together. “You don’t have a problem with it, do you?” Jonathan asked. He’s a better actor than he thought, he looks protective. Although this is another coming out for him, Steve thinks he’s handling it really well.

“No, no! I already told Steve I don’t care. I just kinda had to confirm it because… well I kinda want to talk about something.” Suddenly Dustin looked wary, hesitant to continue.

“Okay?” This was unexpected. Both Dustin being here and the imminent serious conversation he wanted to have based on his expression alone.

The teen took a deep breath. “First of all I wanted to ask you guys something.” He looked at them expectantly, as if asking for permission to continue. Which was so bizarre because this kid says everything and anything that goes through his mind. Steve nodded. “Are you planning on, you know, telling our friends? The party?” Why would he want to know that?

“Um.” Steve glanced at his fake boyfriend. “No, not really. At least not for a while” Jonathan just nodded at what he said.

“I think you should do it.”

“Huh?” Jonathan paled. Steve understood, that was a big thing. And sure Dustin didn’t seem to be taking it lightly but he still doesn’t understand what something like that can feel like.

“Dustin, I don’t think you get to have an opinion on that.” Steve tried to sound firm.

“No, I know just. I think it might be a good thing. Listen, maybe you’re aware of this or maybe you aren’t.” Dustin leaned in as if he was gonna share a secret. “Someone in our party is having a hard time with their… sexuality. At least I think so. I think seeing a happy gay couple could be good for them. To show that there’s hope or some shit.” He was almost eloquent, if it wasn’t for that slip at the end.

The supposed couple looked at each other, processing what the younger boy just said to them. Steve doesn’t know if Jonathan is out to Will, or vice versa. Steve is not dumb, he sees the way Will looks at Mike sometimes. It was the same way his brother looked at Nancy. It had to be hard, being so young and feeling so alone. Will had to be the person Dustin was talking about, right? The only other gay friend Steve knows they have is Robin, and Dustin has no idea she’s gay if we take into account that he wanted to set her up with Steve not long ago.

“We’ll think about it.” Steve heard Jon say. He was surprised, it looked like Jon was considering it.

“I can assure you our friends will be okay with it. And seeing that might encourage this person to come out! I really think they need the support and I wanna give it to them but I don’t know how.” Gosh. He looked so pained about not being able to comfort Will. Dustin is a really good friend.

“As Jon said, we’ll think about it.”

“O-okay. Thanks.” Dustin got up and exited the room, presumably to go to Will’s.

When they were sure he was in another room they separated and inhaled deeply.

“What do you think?” Steve asked.

“I hadn’t… thought about that.” His hands were in his lap and he looked at the door. “I’m gonna assume you know who he was talking about.”

“I’ve… had my suspicions.” Steve ventured. “Will has been looking sad lately.”

“Yeah. Maybe Dustin’s right. Could be a good thing.” He still looked a bit nervous about the whole idea.

“We don’t have to though.”

“I think we should.”

“Really?” Steve didn’t want to pressure Jon, but he also thought it would be good for Will. That kid needs support but he needs to feel comfortable enough to ask for it. No one knows how he would react if they just dumped on him the information that he’s not as subtle as he thinks.

“Yeah. How hard can it be? Same plan just, more people are gonna know.” Jon smiled. “And Will might feel better. I’d do anything for him.” Will was lucky to have such a caring brother.

Steve grinned mischievously. “We might have to revisit the kissing rule, though.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes and smacked him with his pillow.

———

This is a bit shorter than the last one, sorry about that.

I think I might post a chapter once a week.

Also, the tag list is getting really long! I don’t know if I’ll be adding more to the list.

Thanks for reading. Ps. Eddie might finally be in the next chapter. Watch out.

#I think I got an ex but I forgot him #stranger things 4 #stranger things #st4 #steve harrington #jonathan byers #dustin henderson #will byers #steddie #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eventually hehe #platonic steve x jonathan #mer writes sometimes #my fics #hi sorry this shorter!!#the fun REALLY starts next chapter I promise #thanks for being patient

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tales-of-green-hill · 27 days

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An assortment of Emerl arc sketches (I probably have more tho)

(More detailed context in my previous post!)

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xullianart · 1 month

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Quick post so you guys arent waiting too long-

(Please please click for better quality tumblr is ass)

This is CROSSSSSSS from a dreamtale au im working on right now. His name is in brackets because its supposed to be some sorta greek jumbled together version that im still working on. Like Killer is Hassaos (assassin, killer) and Dust is Insomania (insomnatem, mania). This is his refrence which is obviously not done so ill rb it when i get done w it.

Cross belongs to jakei95

Au belongs to xullian (me [3 )

#xullian art #Guys look at his fangs 🤭#thanks for being patient #cross sans #bad sans gang #xtale cross #xtale #wip #next post will either be inks bitchass or the shitpost #cursing like a sailor #utmv au #utmv fanart #utmv

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nine-doodles · 5 months

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Is that flipnote hatena deep dive still in the works?

It is! This past two years have been rocky and unpredictable, becoming homeless overnight and having to rebuild my life from the ground-up meant things had to be put on hold. One of them being my Youtube channel plans and art as a whole.

Now that I'm housed and in a much better position, I can focus on making art and silly stuff again. Although I can't guarantee that this means the Flipnote Hatena video is going to be the first thing on my dock to be worked on and finished.

It's an entire platform that I, and many other artist, had called our online home for many of our formative years, and I don't want to rush that. I want to give it the proper amount of time to do the writing, editing, research, interviews and art design that it deserves. I'm also thinking about making it multi-part for that reason.

Long winded way of saying, yes it is, but it's not my main mission just this very second. It could be another year or so because I want to do the little frog flipbook app some justice

#flipnote hatena #flipnote #idk what to put here #thanks for being patient

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lilybug-02 · 1 year

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WEIRD ROUTE 3

Previous || Next

--Full Series--

#heart string weird route #deltarune chara timeline comic #weird route #deltarune chara timeline #saloon county darkworld #saloon darkworld #kris #chara #art #my art #sorry about the wait again. lol I’m a slow worker #thanks for being patient

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sunandsstars · 7 months

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the next chapter will be a long one ;p

#yawnetu q&a #chapter 9 (?) i think #thanks for being patient #i promise it’ll be good #avatar the way of water #ronal and tonowari #x reader #atwow x reader

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writerlyhabits · 2 years

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Bed Rest

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Request: “Reader takes care of a sick Din send tweet ”

Warnings: mild language, pre-established relationship, helmetless Din but it's dark and technically no creed is broken, its just fluff. I did spell a Mando'a word funky, but that's cause he says it weird, just trust me on this one, kay?

AN: Okay.... this request has been sitting in my inbox for a hot minute and I'm so sorry, but every time I opened the doc all thoughts just left my brain and I couldn't make anything I liked. I know it's short, but I think keeping it short and sweet made this a lil easier. @deceiverofgodss you're wonderful as always ty 💛 Thanks for requesting, I hope you all enjoy!

Din Djarin is a complicated man.

There are many layers to him, both on the surface and buried behind the layers of his beskar armor. He’s clever, his brain moving faster than you could even comprehend to get your party through high-tension situations. He’s kind, offering his genuine thanks wherever he could, and – as you’d noticed on more than one occasion – tips generously where it is deserved. He has his hard edges, but there is a softness to him in his lingering touches at the small of your back, and when he cradles his foundling to his chest.

But he’s also one of the most stubborn men you have ever met.

As of late, he’d been sleeping for far longer than normal, had been partial to cranking the heat up at the inns, and you could hear his stuffy nose affecting his ability to speak – even through the helmet. Din was very clearly sick, or at the very least under the weather, but would he admit to it? Of course not. He powered through, acting like nothing was wrong.

It was getting on your nerves.

So you took matters into your own hands.

“Love,” he whined, having traded your preferred mesh’la for one he could pronounce without hindrance from the blockage of his sinuses, which you kept commenting on and he kept ignoring. “Where did you put the tracker?” He was searching the front table – where he most definitely set it down beside his vambraces the night before – not looking over at you.

“I haven’t seen it,” you feigned innocence, and you admittedly could have been a better actress, but in his state that was the last thing he would notice. Which was exactly why you had taken to hiding the fob in your hands behind your back.

He couldn’t go on this hunt. If he didn’t run himself into the ground and make his symptoms worse, he would get himself killed trying to function despite of them.

For a moment you thought you were going to get away with it, until the traitorous device beeped in your hands to remind you it was still working. Dank farrik. Your Mandalorian turned around steadily to face you, the intimidation of his dark visor lost on you because you knew he was avoiding making himself dizzy by moving his head too fast.

Usually, this would become an unfair game. You would try to keep it close to your body, using every defense you had to fend him off, Din’s large strong frame being able to overpower you with little effort as you both laughed. Sick Din, however, simply sagged his shoulders in disappointment.

“Please don’t make me take it from you, I can’t.”

Sometimes it was so hard remembering just how human Din was underneath all of the beskar. Seeing him act just like any other man with a cold was refreshing. You just wished it also came with the usual desire to sit around and do nothing.

“You can’t?” You repeated, eyebrows shot up on your forehead as you waited for him to hear what he was saying. “Din, if you can’t overpower me, how the hell do you think you’re going to be able to hunt down a bounty?”

“It’s different, I won’t have to-”

“Din.” Your firm tone had taken to sounding similar to his, even causing Grogu to look up at the two of you from his spot on the chair in the corner, and Din halted his argument. “You’re sick, you need to rest. If you don’t stop and take care of yourself, it’s only going to take longer before you can get back out there.”

You let him sit with that reality for a second, watching as his visor turned to look at his green child across the room. You knew where his thoughts were going; the longer he couldn’t hunt, the longer it would take for him to provide for you all. The longer you kept Grogu cooped up in the shabby inn, and it was only a matter of time before you went out and took the bounty out yourself.

You were not incapable by any means. In fact, he loved having you by his side in battle, the two of you being able to read the other as if by some ancient jedi mind trick. But he was fiercely protective, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the idea of sitting on the sidelines while you were on the hunt, unable to come to your rescue should you need it.

All of this, you knew, went through his head as he turned back to you. You knew each other too well for his thoughts to be any kind of mystery to you, just as yours were second nature to him. Which meant that he knew you were prepared to fight him on this.

So he sighed in defeat.

“Fine.”

“Good choice. Now take your armor off and get in bed.”

“Mbesh’la, I don't think that’s-“

“Mbesh’la,” you taunted back, making fun of the way his congestion morphed the usually elegant word. You could practically hear his eye roll. “C’mon, I’m gonna get you soup from the shop downstairs. When I come back, I’ll help you out of the rest of it,” you finished sweetly.

Din nodded in reply – a slow movement to avoid a headache – and you slipped the tracker into your pocket. Just to be safe. He made an attempt to start discarding his gear, gloved fingers fumbling with the clasps of his cloak now that they were free of his weapons.

Before he struggled for long, you walked up and gingerly took his hands in yours, removing his leather gloves with a tenderness you rarely got to share with your Mandalorian. As you got the material over his large hands, you kissed his knuckles before reaching up to unfsaten the clasps he’d been struggling with, folding it across your arms when it released. You gave him a sweet smile, and placed one hand on the side of his helmet to bring it down towards you, leaving him with a keldabe kiss before you made your way out of the room.

When you came back with the soup in hand – a large bowl for Din, and a small one for the foundling who never stopped eating – the room was dark, save for the oranges of the sunset outside peeking in through the cracks of the drapes. On the sizable bed in the middle of the room were your boys, Din cast in the shadows of the room as he laid on his side, and Grogu playing happily with his father’s helmet from his spot on top of the covers. Din’s hand was resting against the child’s back, and you just about melted at the sight.

And then Din sneezed.

At the very least, it amused the child, a laugh gurgling out of him at the ridiculous sound. It reminded you to keep moving, delivering the steaming bowls to a grateful Mandalorian, smiling at his quiet thanks. Only leaving them for a moment, you went into the fresher to run a cloth under hot water, bringing it back out to the shadow of a man tilting the edge of the bowl to his lips.

Success.

You made your way back to the side of the bed and began your usual dance, moving around him comfortably while never focusing on the patch of shadows where his face would be, trusting you not to find the features that may slip into the light while he was without his helmet. Your gaze landed on his dark curls, brushing them away from your peripherals to place the warm towel to his forehead, pleased with the quiet groan that left his body.

“Keep this here until it gets cold. It’ll help you keep warm,” you instructed, pressing a kiss to his temple before you turned to walk away. The hand not supporting his soup reached for yours before you could get far, squeezing your hand as he found his words.

“Could be warmer… There’s room for you to join us,” he offered, as close to a formal request as you would be getting out of him in this state. It brought a soft smile to your face as you looked down at your hands, woven together in his attempt to keep you close.

You squeezed his hand with a promise to be right back, following his lead and changing into softer clothes more suitable for the sauna that was waiting for you under the covers. While you were up you tidied up the small space a little, stalling to let the other two finish their soups, smiling to yourself when you watched Grogu climb up into his fathers arms as the empty bowls were placed to the side.

Coming back to them, you crawled into bed behind Din, wrapping your arms around his chest as you nuzzled into the muscular planes of his back. You listened to his breathing, his strong and steady breaths unaffected by his condition, and his heartbeat thumping in his chest. When his breathing relaxed, the tension in his limbs went right along with it, and only then were you able to follow him to sleep. Your Mandalorian could rest, giving his body the time it needed to recover. And you would enjoy every quiet, laidback moment it brought you and your little family.

Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛

#thanks for being patient #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #request #anonymous request #thanks for requesting shit from me #my writing

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invisiblestation · 7 months

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#stray 2022 #stray interiors #game screenshots #virtual photography #for crt monitors anon #thanks for being patient

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scarletlizzard · 1 month

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Yall ever think about something and start contemplating your entire existence like what the fuck was I on

Anyways Inked Desires pt. 2 this week

#at some point not sure what day #thanks for being patient

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staycalmandhugaclone · 5 months

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So... hi. Still alive. It's been a weird few weeks. I was in a pretty bad funk from the whole drama bs that happened from my last post (one author updated their tags (all my love), two others blocked my friend when they personally reached out with hopes of having a calm talk about it without so much as a word of response, and one of my readers victim-blamed my friend because *they* weren't triggered by one of the fics in question. It was a whole thing...). Anyway, I've been essentially repulsed by all things social ever since but was finally pulling out of it when someone rear-ended me pretty severely. We're hopeful that the damage to my car was only cosmetic, but the guy that hit me claimed not to have insurance, so our deductible is several hundred bucks more... And I got to spend over 5 hours in the hospital getting monitored. Fingers crossed, it seems like both I and the little one are okay (for those not in the know-how, I'm now 6 months preggers). That's about it - just wanted to let everyone know why I haven't been on here in a couple weeks and let you know that I am no where near ready to abandon Doc and the boys. Life just had something else in mind for me recently...

#staycalm talks #my dudes #when it comes to my health #totally chill #when it comes to my little one #apparently there's no middle ground between everything being fine and full panic #deep breath #thanks for being patient

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

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The Night Nurse - Ch 8

A John Wick x Helen Fic

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

VIII.

This was a day for firsts. John found himself seated at his dining room table, the modern behemoth that could seat ten, but had only ever serviced dinner for one. Later, there would be two. Now, it was being used as a medical table while Helen administered fresh stitches.

“This time,” she mused while finishing off a knot, “Let’s wait for you to heal completely before engaging in strenuous activity.”

“I would never get anything done.” She leveled him with a look, indicating this was not the correct answer. Though he knew he walked on dangerous ground, the corners of his mouth twitched. “Yes, Nurse.”

“That’s more like it.”

She applied a fresh bandage. “Try not to get this wet in the shower.”

He was no stranger to wound care routines. “Sure.”

As she pressed the last bit of adhesive her fingertips lingered over the curve of his deltoid, tracing the black cross there lightly. It caused a shiver to run down his spine. This time, he didn’t try to hide it.

“Are you…a religious man, John?”

He shook his head slowly, anticipating her next line of questioning.

“You have a lot of religious tattoos.”

“They mean a certain thing to people in my world. It has very little to do with Christianity, believe me.”

“You mean, our world?”

John titled his head in a silent question of Really?

“Just saying. I made my oath to the High Table. No one’s come after me with a tattoo gun.”

“You haven’t done hard time,” he answered quietly. “And I would like to keep it that way.”

Her eyebrows shot high at that. “Were you in prison?”

“Once.”

“For how long?”

“Three years.”

“You didn’t get three years for homicide.”

“I was very well behaved.”

She narrowed her eyes, weighing him with that molten caramel gaze. “I think you’re fucking with me.” Hearing her say it, no matter the context, twisted him up with a sudden unforgiving wave of desire. Then, she sighed. “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me.”

He caught her hand before she could draw away, so quickly she’d barely seen him move.

“I’ll tell you,” he offered quietly.

“Okay.”

She stepped closer, standing between his splayed legs, as though sharing these dark secrets required a more intimate proximity. Her fingertips toyed with the ends of his hair, and not for the first time, John thought he might just die.

“I...said I was an orphan.”

“Yes.”

“My mother died in a car accident, when I was very young. Not long after, my father was…killed, in a street robbery.”

“Oh, John.”

“I spent years in the orphanage. When I proved strong enough to survive...I was adopted. Sold, more like. To a crime organization that took children to mold as they saw fit. They taught me how to kill, and they gave me these tattoos. The arm cross, for my first kill. It signified my devotion to their cause.”

Her eyes went wide. “How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Shit.” There was the glimmer of tears in her eyes, and he felt a tremor inside, a fissure in his armor, cracked open by her compassion. He could not stop himself from holding her hand against his cheek with a desperation that he had not felt since he was a young boy. John closed his eyes, knowing he could not go on speaking while looking upon her lovely features pulled with such worry and pain, for him.

For him, he marveled, a creature so cloaked in darkness and destruction so as to never deserve forgiveness.

She truly was an angel of mercy.

“The praying hands came when I graduated from their school. It’s like a brand of ownership. It means…the bearer is asking for mercy that is rarely granted. Not from God though. From…Her. The woman who ran the syndicate. She was our God. Our judge. Our Executioner.” John found he couldn’t bring himself to name the Ruska Roma to Helen. He had a sinking intuition that it could be dangerous. A feeling that she might do something brave, and stupid, like ask around until she found the Tarkovsky theatre, and march out to tell The Director off on his behalf, with that magnificent Irish temper of hers.

“That is horrible. You can't own people,” she protested, her words brittle. He almost smiled for her naivety.

“You can, where I come from. Where life is cheap, and freedom is a fairytale. It’s how most of the world lives, sweetheart.” The endearment slipped from his lips before he could stop himself. She did not seem to take offense though, so absorbed in the horror of what he was telling her.

“But...this wasn't the Tarasovs who did this to you?”

“No. They bought me, essentially, when I was a young man. I was becoming difficult to control. She didn’t quite manage to break me, like so many of the others. I wanted…more, than the enclosed world She allowed us to inhabit. I think She sensed I would tear down what she’d built, if She didn’t let me go. In a way…Tarasov was a blessing. At least in the Bratva you can have a life that is somewhat your own, so long as you get done what Viggo needs done.”

“Oh, John…”

It was so heartbreaking to her, that his formative years had been so brutal that joining the fucking Russian mob had been a kinder placement.

But there was more, and now that he’d started talking about it, it was as though he couldn’t stop. The words just kept pouring.

“I didn’t put it together until I was much older, but I suspect my father was like me. He came from the same…syndicate. Raised to do what I do from a young age. But he must have run away to be with my mother. I think they found him and killed him for it, then She took me as…revenge? Payment? A warning? I’ve never known for sure.”

He had not found out, from an offhanded comment here and some digging there, until long after he’d left the Ruska Roma. If he’d known when he was a young firebrand, he absolutely would have burned the Tarkovsky Theatre to the ground no matter the consequences.

“Jesus, John.”

John finally opened his lids when he felt her fingers sliding through his sweat-damp hair, her eyes filled with compassion. He did not resist when gently she pulled him into an embrace, his cheek resting against her chest. The steady beat of her heart beneath his ear calmed him, grounded him from the spiral calling up these memories could inspire. Her hand rested on the crown of his head, and maybe it was ridiculous, but…for the first time, in a very long time, he felt safe.

He could have stayed there forever, but it seemed…disingenuous, to take advantage of her compassion that way. Little did he know, she would have held him for hours if he asked her to.

She looked down at him like she could see straight through him, nodding slowly to all this information he’d imparted, her fingers still sliding languorously through his hair.

“If I ever meet this bitch, I’m going to punch her in the face.”

The very thought pulled the tiniest suggestion of a smile from John’s lips. “I believe you. And that’s why I’m not giving you a name.”

“Are there that many women-led crime syndicates in New York?”

“You might be surprised.”

“Hmm. So…if the Tarasovs bought you….Jesus, I hate that…do they still own you?”

His heart felt as though his blood had thickened to lead. But they’d come this far, and he owed her nothing less than the truth.

“I’ve climbed the ranks. I have standing. I’m not a slave, but no one gets out, when you’re in as deep as I am. It would require…an Impossible Task.”

The furrow between her brows broke his heart. He wondered if that quick and beautiful mind was absorbing all this information, sorting it out and weighing the gains and the consequences…and inevitably arriving at the only sane conclusion: how can you be with a man, if he’s owned by someone else?

It was a conclusion she had every right to make, but it hurt. It hurt in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time, an ache deep in a part of his heart he hadn’t managed to numb over the years.

“Are you happy now, at least?”

The question only further twisted the knife. Only recently, had he begun to actually feel that elusive emotion. It had more to do with her than any of the relative freedom or vast wealth he’d accrued.

“I'm...getting there.” A part of him wanted to finish the thought. Because of you. But his conscience stopped him—he didn’t want the burden of his happiness resting on her shoulders, when already this amazing woman carried so much. He had to lighten the mood, or their evening would be ruined, and it would be all his fault.

“You know there was one good thing She taught me.”

“Oh?”

“How to dance.”

“What?”

“Ballet.”

Helen frowned at the absurdity of this notion before laughing out loud. “I think you’re fucking with me again.”

John decided to take that moment to stand, the fronts of their bodies nearly pressed in a line. His hands found her tiny waist, as though it was their natural resting place. “I’ll prove it to you. Want to do a lift?”

“Don’t you dare!” she squealed, skipping away across the floor, putting a chair between them. “I am not redoing your stitches again!” It took every iota of his self-control not to give in to his hunter’s instincts and chase her, grab her up, and finally slant his mouth over hers to make her his. He found his cheeks hurt from the strain of grinning wider than he ever had, though he feared it might more resemble a baring of teeth.

Helen’s eyes shone with laughter, her lips parted. She really was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Did you do that just to cheer me up?” she asked, the softness in her voice squeezing his heart like a fist.

“Would I do such a thing?”

She narrowed her eyes, seemingly for the umpteenth time that day. “I am going to go take a shower, Mr. Wick. And you had better get started on that dinner you promised me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He watched her disappear down the hall towards the guest bedroom, a lightness in his heart that almost confused him. Was this the relief to be found in confessing one’s sins? Or was it her? Just the miracle that was Helen Morgan, and these feelings she inspired in his breast. He dared not name it; for anything John Wick had ever loved, had died in some way.

He couldn’t bear to curse Helen too.

#for my Helen stans #i luv u guys 😘#thanks for being patient #john wick #john wick x helen #john wick fic #keanu reeves #helen wick #john wick the night nurse

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