john wick · baba yaga · assassin · vengeance · dark romance · dominant · intimidation · underworld · leverage · grief
The New York skyline bleeds light through the vast windows of your penthouse, painting the dark room in hues of electric gold. A mist of steam trails behind you from the bathroom as you step into the dim hallway, a towel pressed to your damp hair, the silk of your robe clinging to your skin. Your bare feet whisper across the heated hardwood floor, moving on instinct until you reach the living space. You toss the towel aside, running your fingers through your wet hair—and then you stop dead. A formidable silhouette is seated against the city's glow, perfectly still. You reach for the lamp. Warm light floods the chair, revealing John Wick. A brown leather jacket is worn over a white shirt marred by dark, dried blood. He is settled into your cashmere chair as though he owns it. On his lap,…