#John wick 4 ff

[rosevette]

·.༄࿔ TAKE ME TO PARIS part 2. my mlist

𝒋𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒌 & 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

💋ྀིྀི résumé : the gifts won’t stop, along with john’s paranoia. he won’t even let you out of the hotel.

1.6k words + tags : dumb, ‘naive’ !reader, manipulation, fantasizing, smut, age gap, pet names, fingering, slight non-con, evil intent, brat-taming⭑

୭ৎ … im so sorry yall had to wait so long for this, but im finally finished !! more chapters to come, and I hope you enjoy…if there are any error, ignore! (part 1 here) - sincerely, rose

DAYS PASSED, and John's concern only seemed to intensify. He hovered nearby constantly, his watchful gaze never leaving your side, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. The gifts from Marquis didn’t stop either, a jewelry a day.

At first, you found John’s behavior endearing, a testament to his unwavering dedication to keeping you safe. But as time wore on, his constant vigilance began to chafe, leaving you feeling suffocated by his overbearing presence.

"I'm just going for a walk, John," you protested, attempting to slip past him as he stood guard by the hotel entrance.

His grip tightened on your arm, his eyes flashing with undisguised worry. "I can't let you out of my sight, not with him out there," he insisted, his tone firm and resolute.

Frustration bubbled up inside you as you shook off his hold, refusing to be caged like some delicate bird.

"I'm not a child, John. I can take care of myself," you snapped, storming towards the door, before the brooding man stopped you and held his position in front of the door.

“I said no.”

His voice was cold, you were getting on his nerves. Paranoid or not, he couldn’t let you go outside.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, my patience has already been thrown out the window.” He glared at you, you could tell he wasn’t joking, but you just can’t help but to talk back.

“You’re such a brute. You can’t keep me here fore—“ You widened your eyes, feeling a hand read gently on your mouth. Fluttering your eyelashes to John’s gaze, your face flushed, your eyebrows narrowing.

“Stop being a brat.” He murmured, his words slipping smoothly through his lips.

Before you knew it, his body already pressed against yours firmly, his weight leaning you against the flat surface of the wall, secluded in your room.

“I’m just looking out for you, is that so hard to understand?”

As John pressed you against the decorative wallpaper, his firm grip sending shivers down your spine, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. His proximity ignited a fire within you, stirring desires that had long lain dormant.

With a defiant smirk, you met his intense gaze head-on, the heat of his breath mingling with yours as you leaned in closer, the tension crackling between you like electricity.

"You're not my keeper, John," you countered, your voice laced with equal parts defiance and desire. "I can take care of myself."

But before you could utter another word, John's lips crashed against yours, his kiss fierce and demanding, leaving you breathless and dizzy with longing. His hands roamed your body with a possessive urgency, igniting a fierce hunger deep within your core.

“Do you understand what no means?” He leaned back, scoffing at your flushed state. Now turning your body around to face him, his eyes trailed your body top to bottom, your heart pacing, knowing what was next.

With a gasp, you melted into him, your resistance crumbling beneath the weight of his passion. Every touch, every caress sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building to a fever pitch that threatened to consume you whole.

It didn’t take long until you felt his hands start to trail up your silk dress, his hand could be seen rubbing along your thighs through the thin fabric. Each whimper you gave was met with a smirk from John, only fueling his ego.

“Seems like this brat is already so wet for me. Is this what you wanted? To push my buttons to end up like this?”

Your breath hitched as John’s hands explored the curves of your body, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you with every teasing touch. His words, though laced with arrogance, only served to stoke the flames of your desire, igniting a primal need that begged to be sated.

With a low whimper, you arched into his touch, unable to deny the intoxicating effect he had on you. “N-No I didn’t mean to I…,” you murmured, your voice dripping with seduction as you trailed your fingers along the contours of his chest.

The tension between you crackled with raw intensity, each touch, each whispered word fueling the inferno of passion that raged between you. Lost in the heat of the moment, his fingers eventually met contact with your wet folds, a moan slipping past your lips.

“J-John..” you croaked, squinting.

“I told you there would be punishments for your behavior.” You couldn’t even reply back in time when he had slipped a finger inside your wet hole, gasping into the air. A few pumps from his digits already made you a moaning mess.

Your words caught in your throat as John’s touch sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, rendering you speechless as ecstasy washed over you in dizzying waves. His fingers, skilled and knowing, delved deeper into your core, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatened to consume you whole.

Every pump, every stroke sent you spiraling closer to the edge, your moans echoing in the air as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming pleasure that John bestowed upon you. His touch was like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, leaving you craving more with each passing moment.

He smirked, eventually pulling his fingers away to bring to his mouth, tasting you. You widened your eyes, wondering why he stopped as jaw hung open, your poor cunt soaked and wanting more.

John’s smirk only deepened as he savored the taste of your arousal on his fingers, his gaze locked with yours as he drank in your reaction with undisguised satisfaction. Your widened eyes and parted lips spoke volumes, your confusion and desire swirling together in a heady mix that only fueled his own arousal.

“Such a sweet little thing,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful promise as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You want more, don’t you?” He laughed wickedly. This was your punishment. He wasn’t going to continue, he was going to make you wait for it.

He scoffed, leaving you breathless and aching for more as he reveled in the power he held over you. Your body throbbed with need, every nerve on edge as you craved his touch like a drug.

“Clean yourself up, darling,” he said casually, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired between you.

Confusion and frustration warred within you as you struggled to make sense of his abrupt change in demeanor. Had it all been a game to him? A cruel joke at your expense?

With trembling hands, you gathered your wits about you, forcing yourself to stand on shaky legs as you attempted to compose yourself. But the memory of his touch lingered like a fever dream, leaving you reeling in its wake.

Now stepping out of the steaming shower, you sighed to yourself, thinking back to John’s advances just an hour ago. You should’ve known he had a trick up his sleeve just to toy with you.

Before you could dwell on the thought any longer, your phone rang, startling you out of your reverie. Glancing at the caller ID, you frowned in confusion at the unfamiliar number. Hesitantly, you answered, bringing the phone to your ear.

"Bonjour, ma chérie," a smooth voice purred from the other end, sending a chill down your spine.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Recognition dawned on you as you realized who was calling. "Marquis," you greeted evenly, masking the tremor in your voice. “How did you find my number…”

"Ah, I know a guy," he replied, his voice dripping with honeyed charm. "Tell me, have you been enjoying my little gifts?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I appreciate the gesture," you replied tersely, forcing a note of indifference into your tone.

Deep down, you weren’t scared or threatened that the man called you, in fact, you welcomed it. Perhaps you could use this as payback for John?

The Marquis's laughter echoed in your ears, he had noticed your tone of voice . "Oh, ma chérie, you wound me," he purred. "But tell me, have you left Paris? I haven’t seen you anywhere…”

Yeah, thanks to John. You thought in your head.

“I simply admire beautiful things, and you, my dear, are the most exquisite masterpiece of them all. A shame I haven’t seen you since the auction.

Despite the danger and warning bells ringing in your mind, a rebellious spark ignited within you at the Marquis’s words. You couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through you at the thought of defying John, of embracing the danger that lurked just beyond the shadows.

As the Marquis’s laughter echoed in your ears, you felt a surge of defiance welling up inside you.

“I’m still here, Marquis,” you replied, your voice laced with a hint of mischief. “And I must say, your absence hasn’t gone unnoticed either.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a low chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. “Ah, so you’re still playing games, ma chérie,” he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. “I must say, I do admire your spirit.”

The Marquis’s laughter filled the air once more, a sound that sent a thrill of anticipation racing through your veins. “Well then, my dear,” he purred. “Let’s see just how far that taste for danger will take you.”

the end ! part 3 in progress…

© rosevette 2024 . do not copy !

#keanu reeves #john wick #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard x reader #john wick 4 #keanu x reader #marquis de gramont #Marquis x reader #John wick x reader #John wick imagines #Marquis de Gramont imagines #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard fanfiction #John wick 4 imagines #John wick 4 ff #keanu reeves ff

[velvainee]

✦ ⎯⎯ ㅤִㅤ ୭ 𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑦 ( dr.wick x reader )

ᨳ ꒰ précis ꒱. oneshot. In 2236, Dr. John Wick leads "Wick Industries" in human experiments to extend life and youthfulness. But behind the facade of progress, test subjects like you are unknowingly involved, their consent ignored.

୨ৎ warnings. manhandling, non-con, forced relationship, breeding, evil intent, large age gap, p in v, blackmailing, mentions of blood, torture, bdsm, size kink. dead dove. do not eat. 2.6k words.

𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, this is my first fic on this blog ! please excuse any mistakes and lmk if you like it, reblogs comments & likes are very appreciated! if you have any requests for another fic don’t be afraid to reach out. ( has not been proof read ) !

As you step into the sterile corridors of Wick Industries, the faint hum of machinery fills the air, a constant reminder of the scientific endeavors unfolding within. It's 2236, an era where the boundaries between progress and ethical considerations blur into a murky haze.

You find yourself here not out of choice, but out of dire necessity, your financial woes pressing upon you like a weighty burden. Volunteering as a blood donor is your ticket to survival, a means to secure the funds desperately needed to support your ailing mother and keep a roof over your head.

You needed the money, your mother's illness draining your savings faster than you could replenish them, while the relentless march of automation threatened your livelihood in the retail sector.

With each passing day, the gap between what you earned and what you needed widened, leaving you with little recourse but to turn to unconventional means to make ends meet.

A giant in the industry, Wick Industries looms large in the landscape of scientific research, its reputation as a leader in biomedical advancements drawing both admiration and scrutiny.

When news broke of their call for volunteers to participate in cutting-edge experiments aimed at extending human youth, you saw it as an opportunity—a chance to alleviate your financial woes while contributing to the greater good. Little did you know the true cost of admission into this world of scientific ambition and moral ambiguity.

Entering the facility, you're greeted by the sight of a bustling lobby, volunteers milling about in varying states of anticipation and apprehension.

The air is charged with nervous energy, a palpable undercurrent of uncertainty running through the crowd as each individual grapples with their own reasons for being there.

At the registration desk, you join the queue, your heart pounding in your chest as you inch closer to the counter.

The old woman behind the desk is brisk and efficient, her voice a steady rhythm in the cacophony of voices around you.

“Next,” she called out, an old woman behind the counter waved her hand, urging you to move forward.

“ID?” She spoke. Your hands making their way into your little pink hand bag as they shuffled to take out your wallet, waiting for the nod of approval before tucking your things back into your purse.

“Third door down the hallway to the left,” she directed.

Guided by her directions, you navigate through the maze-like corridors of the facility, the sterile environment and the click of your heels against the polished floors adding to the surreal atmosphere.

The waiting room is a sea of faces, each one bearing the weight of their own struggles and uncertainties, their eyes betraying a mixture of hope and trepidation.

As you take your seat among the other volunteers, you can't help but feel a sense of camaraderie tinged with unease. The steady stream of departures catches your attention, prompting a question to the person beside you.

“Why are people leaving?” You ask.

Their answer, though matter-of-fact, does little to assuage your growing apprehension.

“I hear the doctors are looking for a specific blood type within the volunteers,” the man next to you replied, his eyes going back to the bright screen of the phone he held.

Amidst the ebb and flow of volunteers, two figures emerge, their presence commanding attention as they make their way down the line of chairs. The older man's piercing gaze sends a shiver down your spine, while his companion's whispered exchange only serves to heighten your sense of foreboding.

When they finally reach you, the weight of their scrutiny feels suffocating.

The bearded man leans in to murmur something inaudible into his assistants ear, the man’s eyes flicker in your direction.

“Her,” he whispers slightly, their eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

As their stares bore into yours, the man’s assistant gestures for you to stand, and you comply, feeling a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. With a barely perceptible nod from the older man, they lead you away from the crowd, down a series of sterile corridors lined with gleaming metal doors.

Down the labyrinthine corridors you go, each step bringing you closer to the unknown. The air grows colder, the atmosphere thick with anticipation and trepidation. What awaits you behind those imposing doors remains a mystery, one that gnaws at the edges of your consciousness with relentless persistence.

Finally, you come to a stop before a nondescript door, its surface devoid of any indication of what lies beyond. With a silent exchange, the older man and his assistant confer, their words lost to you in the deafening silence of the corridor.

As the door slides open, revealing a sterile room bathed in harsh fluorescent light, you steel yourself for what comes next.

Alone in the room with these enigmatic figures, you can't help but feel a sense of trepidation. Their welcoming smiles offer little comfort, their words ringing hollow against the backdrop of uncertainty that looms over you like a dark cloud.

"Welcome," the man with the clipboard begins, his voice a mere whisper in the vast emptiness of the room. "My name is Dr. David. Thank you for volunteering,”

As the assistant quietly slips out of the room, leaving you alone with Dr. John Wick, a sense of unease settles over you like a heavy blanket. Yet, in his presence, there's a strange calmness that washes over you, his reassuring smile and soothing voice momentarily easing the knots of tension in your stomach.

"Please, have a seat," he gestures towards a chair, his tone gentle yet authoritative. You comply, sinking into the plush cushion as he takes a seat across from you, his piercing gaze never leaving yours.

"Let me assure you, you're in good hands here," he begins, his voice smooth as silk. "Wick Industries is at the forefront of groundbreaking research, and your participation in our experiments is invaluable."

Despite his words, a nagging feeling of apprehension lingers at the back of your mind, a whisper of doubt that refuses to be silenced. Yet, you push it aside, clinging to the hope that perhaps this is just the opportunity you've been waiting for.

“I’m Dr. Wick—but please, call me John,” He gives you a charming grin once more, reaching out his hand for you to shake.

As he continues to speak, his words seem to fade into the background, your focus shifting to the way the harsh fluorescent light casts shadows across his angular features.

“Tell me about yourself,” he speaks up once more, trying to strike a conversation with his patient.

There's something magnetic about him, something that draws you in despite your better judgment.

“There’s not really much to me,” you chuckle softly, a pink shade flushing against your cheeks.

“I work in retail—heard of the small cafe Allure? Im a barista,” you say bluntly, as if you were having a normal conversation with your friend.

“Ah really?” John turns to you, his brown eyes boring into yours. “I’ll have to try it sometime, I’ve never been,” he revealed.

Your conversation starts to become more intimate, sort of like you’re speaking to a therapist.

"You're special, you know," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "There's something about you that sets you apart from the others."

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. His proximity is intoxicating, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting.

“People don’t usually say that about me,” you scoff, rolling your eyes, yet you felt cared for, embracing the feeling of praise.

“A shame for such a pretty girl like you,” He jokes, rubbing his chin with his fingers.

You find yourself hanging onto his every word, his charisma and intelligence captivating you in a way you never expected.

As he shares stories of his past achievements and future aspirations, you can't help but feel a sense of admiration for the man before you.

But beneath the surface, there's a tension that simmers, a palpable electricity that crackles in the air between you. You can sense the shift in his demeanor, the subtle change in the way he looks at you, as if seeing you for the first time.

As the conversation lulls, he rises from his seat, his movements fluid and purposeful. With a slight smile, he disappears into the adjacent room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Minutes pass, the silence broken only by the soft hum of machinery in the distance. And then, he reappears, a small vial in his hand.

"I've prepared something to help ease the discomfort during the blood extraction process," he explains, his tone reassuring. "It's a simple elixir, but it should make the experience more bearable."

You nod, accepting the vial with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. As you raise it to your lips, you can't help but wonder what exactly is in the concoction he's given you.

But the pain of the extraction process looms large in your mind, overshadowing any doubts or reservations you may have.

With a deep breath, you swallow the elixir in one swift motion, its taste bitter and metallic against your tongue. And then, as the liquid courses through your veins, a wave of dizziness washes over you, your vision blurring at the edges.

You reach out for support, but John is already there, his strong arms catching you before you hit the ground.

Your head throbs, the sensation reverberating through your ears as you grimace in pain, your face contorted in a grimace as you watch the overhead lights flicker rapidly.

Panic surges within you, your heart racing as you realize your arms are restrained above your head, the cold metal of the cuffs biting into your skin. Your feet barely brush against the worn tiles below.

"What the hell?!" you exclaim, your voice trembling with fear. Memories elude you, leaving you disoriented and bewildered.

Surveying your surroundings, you find yourself in a stark white room, its pristine walls offering no solace. A single door stands in the corner, ominous in its silence as you hang suspended in the center, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows across the sterile space.

Suddenly, the door creaks open, revealing Dr. John Wick as he steps into the room. Clad in gloves and his white coat, he exudes an unsettling air of authority as a wave of realization washes over you.

"What's happening?!" you demand, your voice trembling with uncertainty as fear grips you tightly.

"Hush now," John soothes, his voice calm and measured as he approaches you.

Despite your frantic struggles against the chains, he moves closer, his hand deftly manipulating a remote control in his grasp. With a click, the chains lower, the sound of metal clanking echoing in the sterile room as your body descends.

“I didn’t lie about how you were special,” he smiles creepily, now eye level with the man as he lifts your chin slightly.

“We just need to text you for some experiments, nothing too big,” he added, hot tears already brimming your waterline.

“P-Please get me out this isn’t what I signed up for—“ You whined, your wrists still trying to undo the chains that bound them together.

“I’m sorry but I cannot do that. You’ll be my little test bunny for today, is that alright with you, love?” He chuckled softly.

You shriek, tears already streaming down your cheeks as John’s fingers stroke against your jawline.

“You wouldn’t want to let your poor mother die now, would you?” He whispered, leaning into your ears as you grit your teeth, jaw clenching.

“Your mother has been transferred to a better hospital—under my industry. Resist and you die, let me use you this once and I’ll ensure your mother’s safety,” he’d add.

Before you are able to say anything, he grabs a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping it around your head.

Your body stops shaking, your mother was at risk and you were unable to do anything.

He first took a knife from the steel cart that was placed against the wall across from where you were, his movements precise as you felt your clothing slither from your body, down your legs and eventually onto the ground.

Unable to resist, you stood there, crying, your makeup making marks on your cheeks as you shuddered from the embarrassment you felt as you were exposed to the older man.

“So young, so beautiful,” his voice tantalizing as he admired your curves, his hands starting to graze against your skin, the goosebumps visible from your fear.

“Don’t be afraid, it’s only procedures,” he teased, before pushing the button on his remote once more, your body lowering down as you gazed up at the man like a dog.

His fingers made their way under your chin, lifting them up slightly before he slowly undid the handkerchief.

“Please don’t scream, you’ll only make it harder for yourself,” he rambled, his lips now pressing against yours as you moaned in both surprise and disgust.

His tongue swirled with yours, the both fighting for dominance as he held your jaw in one hand, the other one starting to undo his pants.

John’s eyes glinted with a cold detachment as he advanced towards you, his movements deliberate and predatory.

“I promise, you’ll like it,” he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance as he surveyed your trembling form.

You tried to protest, but the words caught in your throat as he pinned you against the wall, his hands rough and possessive as they roamed over your body.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he leaned in close.

“Resistance is futile.”

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine despite the fear that gripped your soul.

“Please,” you whispered, but the desperation in your voice only seemed to amuse him.

With a smirk, he silenced you with a bruising kiss, his lips crushing yours with a ruthless intensity that left you gasping for air.

And as he claimed you as his own, you found yourself surrendering to him completely, your body a playground for his darkest desires. Each touch sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain coursing through your veins, your cunt throbbing with a mixture of agony and ecstasy.

But amidst the chaos, there was something else - a twisted kind of love that dared not speak its name.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his voice dripping with malice as he watched you squirm beneath him.

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his touch ignited within you.

With a guttural grunt, John released his load deep inside your cunt, his cock throbbing with the force of his climax. Your walls clenched around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from his pulsating shaft as he claimed you as his own.

“Take it, you filthy whore,” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain as he buried himself inside you.

“You like being used, don’t you?”

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his rough treatment ignited within you.

Each thrust was a reminder of your submission, a testament to the depths of your depravity.

As he reached his peak, his grip on you tightened, leaving bruises in his wake as he marked you as his property.

“There we go little bunny,” he sneered, his words a cruel echo of the pleasure that coursed through your veins.

And as he finally pulled away, leaving you empty and spent, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. In his arms, there was no room for love or tenderness, only the raw, unbridled passion of two souls consumed by darkness.

♡ 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑

#keanu x reader #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves imagines #keanu reeves fanfictions #keanu reeves ff #John wick x reader #John wick x you #John wick roleplay #John wick rp #John wick fanfictions #John wick imagines #John wick ff #John wick fic #keanu reeves fic #fanfictions #fanfic #writing #John wick #keanu reeves #John wick 4 #imagines

[decayanddesign]

If films are going to be 3+ hours long, we should really bring back intermissions

#decay's dumb ramblings #I’m seeing John Wick 4 today and apparently it’s somewhere around there #ffs my old back injury isn’t going to be able to go that long without getting agitated #let us have a moment to stretch our legs. get a slushie perhaps

[norfkid]

was tagged by @patronsaintofdesire to answer these questions and tag nine people you want to get to know better! thank you, malina :]

last song: as of writing this, marie doucer, marie colère by manon hollander from the john wick 4 soundtrack. it's essentially a french version of paint it black by the rolling stones & it's a banger

favourite colour: i always say yellow (like a gold yellow, #ffc000), but by that i usually mean the combination of black & yellow. i'm also pretty fond of the greyish-blue i use on my blog (#7b9e9a)

last film/tv show: the last thing i watched in full was point break (ty andrew @busaikuknee for initially convincing me to watch it, "keanu reeves has to learn how to surf to solve robberies" is a truly baffling concept & no one will ever do it again). i say "in full" bc also been revisiting a lot of clips from ip man 1-4 so in my head it feels like i've rewatched those too

sweet/spicy/savoury: savoury. i don't have sweet things very often, and while i can tolerate fairly spicy food i just don't enjoy it that much (i'm a massive disappointment to my family)

relationship status: philosophically speaking, aren’t we all single?

last thing i googled: cozmo and vector robots! i saw a video somewhere of these guys and got so excited. they're these rly cute little WALL-E -esque robot friends made by an american robotics/ai startup called Anki, who specialised in robotics technology for children. i looked online to see if they were still around, but they've been discontinued since the company went bankrupt in April 2019 <\3

also related, there's this article from 2019 i read called Discovery of the Uncanny Valley that briefly mentions the Vector robots, but also discusses other examples of technology made in the past that have these human-like attributes given to them. it's a light read & there are some links to other similar articles at the end if you're into that stuff :]

current obsession: well, wrestling is always a given. i've fallen out with njpw for months now, but i've been watching more pro wrestling noah instead & i'm loving it tbh

apart from that, i've been watching a lot of Donnie Yen films bc i'm a little bit a lot in love with the old man (60 y/o btw & looks like that, fucking wild man). and by proxy i've been learning a bit about chinese martial arts (wing chun, in particular (a southern chinese style that influenced guys like ip man, bruce lee, jackie chan, sammo hung, donnie yen, etc etc)) through his interviews and stuff.

it's funny that i'm always so interested in "sports" i can't ever physically do & they always have some element of storytelling/performance and coordination... the martial arts to stunt performance to choreography to dance pipeline is all just so fucking fascinating.

i think chinese martials arts has gripped me bc all these 70s/80s/90s films made in china rely so much on pulling off wild stunts and fights without the budget for cgi and equipment. not to discredit the guys that do their own stunts in hollywood, but it's rare and always cause for celebration... in chinese filmmaking it's so normal. and as a result their performances are just so real and visceral. like, i watch wrestling ffs, ofc i'm drawn to films where storytelling and physicality intertwine. you construct intricate rituals etc etc

on that note, i'm really excited by the new wave of stunt performers turned film directors we've been getting. guys like Yuen Woo-Ping (Matrix Reloaded, Drunken Master) are already established in coordinating incredible scenes and stunts, but more recently: Chad Stalenski (the John Wick films), David Leitch (Bullet Train, Atomic Blonde), Sam Hargrave (Extraction), etc. there's a sort of magic lost in all these mainstream big budget marvel superhero and hollywood action films where fight scenes are so easily ruined by a thousand jumpcuts and wiring and fantasy, but these guys are bringing back that special smth, that authenticity and grittiness (not only in their choreography, but in the filmmaking and cinematography of those fight scenes too). it's so refreshing & i’m fucking nerd sorry

not so much an obsession, but i've also developed a new, old appreciation for woodwork (carving, whittling, joinery, etc) & in another life i think i would have loved to be a carpenter...

last book: admittedly, i don't read. tho i got a joblot of old hellblazer comics from ebay recently and have been meaning to revisit them

looking forward to: not much really... i find it hard to think about the distant future & i don't get that sense of anticipation and motivation from long-term plans. maybe getting this third and last year of uni over and bloody done with? which is incidentally something i'm absolutely dreading (“you need to get a job, you need to get a job, you need to get—”)

#sorry i haven't tagged anyone i've been sitting on this in my drafts for too long sdkjd #tag games #abt

[sylniabab]

The only downside of John Wick 4 is that they cannot find a more Scandinavian man to play a French man. Like, Bill Skasgard without his clown makeup screams Scandinavian. The guy couldn't even speak french without an accent. Like, I know Vincent Cassel is too old and Jean Dujardin too, moreover Jean cannot speak english for his life but still. Your typical French man is a brown hair twink okay? It's Timothée Chalamet ffs! That's guy is only half french but it's already 50% more French-ness than Bill Skasgard's which is none. I really wish French men to be a Scandinavian David like Bill but it's just not the case okay ಥ‿ಥ

#john wick #john wick 4

[graciousheaven]

THE SOUL THAT WON’T FAMISH

Prov. 10:3 “The LORD will not allow the righteous soul to famish, but He casts away the desire of the wicked.

Justice is not inherent in human nature. In other words, no one has a righteousness of his own. Thus this verse is not a reference to self-righteousness, but to “that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which comes from God on the basis of faith” (Phil. 3:9). For no one is inherently righteous in God’s sight, (cf. Rom. 3:10, ff.), “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23). “But to him who does not work but believes on Him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is accounted for righteousness” (Rom. 4:5). That is to say, it is the Lord who clothes us with the garments of salvation, it is He who covers us with the robe of righteousness.

No man in his natural state accepts nor does he understand the things of the Spirit; he does not seek the Kingdom of God and his righteousness. But the righteous soul, being regenerated by the Holy Spirit as a result of God’s grace, hungers and thirsts for the things of the Spirit, he seeks the Kingdom of God and his righteousness; he “[puts] on the Lord Jesus Christ, and [makes] no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires” (Rom. 13:14). On the other hand the wicked, whose god is his natural desires, seeks to satisfy the desires and passions of the flesh; he is prone to carnality and worldliness. But that in which the righteous soul delights is the spiritual food, the Word of God, which is the Light for the soul, the Bread of life, the Living Water, i.e. Christ – He nourishes the soul, sustains it and sanctifies it. Every righteous man hungers and thirsts for the Word of God, he pursues holiness and peace. Thus, the Lord never lets him starve, but supplies him with the spiritual food and resources that satisfy his soul and enable him to grow in godliness.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied”, declares the Lord in Mat. 5:6. That is to say, He who supplies the seed to the sower, and bread for food also attends to our spiritual needs by lavishing his grace upon us, in order that we may be well equipped to live a godly life. The Lord calls us in righteousness, holds us by the hand and watches over us. Anyone who delights in that which the Lord delights in is satisfied, the Lord attends to their spiritual needs. This is clearly affirmed by the Lord in John 15:7 when He declares, “If you abide in Me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” Ps. 37:4 reads, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.”

One of the characteristics of genuine believers is that they never reach a plateau in their life here on earth as far as the pursuit of godliness is concerned. As we grow in our walk with Christ our Lord our hunger for righteousness never ceases. On the contrary, there arises in us a greater desire to be conformed to the image of Christ, as we see more sins in our lives than before, not because we practice or indulge in grievous sins, but because we have come closer to the holiness of God, we have seen more of his glory and have become more aware of the wretchedness of our hearts. Hence our hatred for sin grows as our desire to be like our Saviour increases. In other words, our hunger for righteousness deepens as our knowledge of the holiness of God and of our sinfulness increases, and the good news is that the Lord never allows us to famish. As our hunger for righteousness increases, greater God’s supply for our spiritual growth becomes. The Lord continues to feed us as we hunger and thirst for righteousness, as we seek to live a humble and godly life. And this is greatly important in our walk with Christ, because the more our hunger increases, the more we are sanctified, the more we become conformed to the image of our Saviour; we pass from one level of holiness to the next. For the Lord in his grace continues to provide us with what our souls now delight in.

To the righteous the Lord says, “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you” (Mat. 7:7). The Lord’s ear is attuned to the cry of the righteous, because that which the righteous hungers and thirsts for is according to the will and purposes of God; he loves what the Lord loves and hates what the Lord hates. Being baptised into the family of Christ by the Spirit of grace, he is a partaker of divine nature. “Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires” (Gal. 5:24). They follow Christ in his walk and glorify God with their lives. And since the Lord our God wants us to be holy, because He is holy, so does He delight in those who pursue holiness, those who seek to be conformed to the image of Christ. Therefore He does not allow such to famish.

This is a comforting truth for us who believe in Christ because, as fallen creatures we do not look within ourselves to find the strength and the power to overcome the flesh and its desires that wage war within us; rather we look up to our Saviour whose Spirit sanctifies us and equips us for all good works. He has given us his Word to enlighten our souls, and gifted us with a means of grace (prayer) through which we can cry out to Him for help against the desires of the flesh. The Lord is our victory over the flesh, sin, worldliness, death and Satan. And nothing we seek from our Heavenly Father in order to subdue, to overcome the desires and passions of the flesh does He withhold it from us. “Now this is the confidence that we have in Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us. And if we know that He hears us, whatever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we have asked of Him”, says 1 John 5:14-15.

The will of our Heavenly Father is our sanctification (cf. 1 Thess. 4:3), and so when we hunger and thirst for righteousness, He satisfies us because that is exactly what He desires for us, that we become holy, for He is holy. It is a comfort to know that our Heavenly Father is there to fulfill the desire that we have as Christians to grow in godliness, because if we were to look in our own strength to satisfy our spiritual needs, we would famish and remain into spiritual deadness forever. For we have over the flesh no power that is inherent in our being; we cannot overcome by our own effort sin in our lives. God alone by the power of the Holy Spirit grants us victory over the flesh; the Spirit of God who resides in us, believers, is the one who sanctifies us, He gradually kills sin in us by opposing the flesh. He who begins a good work in us brings it to completion; He finishes it.

The Lord pulls us out of the pit of darkness, He nourishes our souls and sanctifies us by his truth. And until the day He is going to glorify us He will never stop feeding us, He will never stop providing us with what we need to live a godly life, a life that brings glory to Him, a life that exalts Him. “For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for Himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works” (Titus 2:11-14).

As for the wicked, the Lord casts his desire away because he lives in the passions of the flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind; his soul delights in evil, in the things that satisfy the flesh. Prov. 21:10 reads, “The soul of the wicked desires evil; his neighbor finds no favor in his eyes.” Prov. 4:16-17 says, “They do not sleep unless they have done evil; and their sleep is taken away unless they make someone fall. For they eat the bread of wickedness, and drink the wine of violence.”

The desires of the wicked are evil and are meant to satisfy the flesh. The flesh pursues that which is ungodly, it delights in: “adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lewdness, idolatry, sorcery, hatred, contentions, jealousies, outbursts of wrath, selfish ambitions, dissensions, heresies, envy, murders, drunkenness, revelries, and things like these” (Gal. 5:19-21). Such abominations do not and can never receive God’s approval, because He is holy; there is no darkness in Him. Although in order to fulfill his righteous and sovereign purposes the Lord often uses what the wicked devise for evil, He never mandates the wicked to do evil, He is never the cause of evil. The Lord does not partake in their evil schemes nor does He tolerate them. The Lord hates evil and those who do them. The Lord casts the desire of the wicked away, because it is ungodly, it is sinful, it is an abomination in his sight. Prov. 15:9 reads, “The way of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord, but He loves him who pursues righteousness.”

The ear of the Lord is attuned to the cry of the righteous, but He hates all workers of iniquity (cf. Ps. 5:5) so much so that even their sacrifice is an abomination to Him (cf. Prov. 15:8). Therefore, since the wicked is always filled with the desire to do evil (cf. Prov. 4:16-17), they constantly face opposition from God; their evil schemes are overthrown, they are cast away by the holy God who does not take pleasure in wickedness, but brings the abominations of the wicked upon their own heads. So borrowing the words from Prov. 1:15-18, I urge you today! “Do not walk in the way with [the wicked]; hold back your foot from their paths, for their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed blood. For in vain is a net spread in the sight of any bird, but these men lie in wait for their own blood; they set an ambush for their own lives.”

It is written, “Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers. The wicked are not so, but are like chaff that the wind drives away. Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous; for the Lord knows the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish” (Ps. 1:1-6).

https://www.faithintheoneaboveall.com/post/proverbs-10-3

#proverbs 10:3 #defeat hunger #end hunger #be filled #be satisfied #God's delight #be fed #grow in grace #graciousheaven #Matthew 5:6 #blessed are those who hunger

[fortheloveoffanfic]

This Christmas pt4

John Wick x Reader 

Masterlist    This Christmas Masterlist. 

Y/n had gone to bed the previous night with her time with John playing on a loop in her mind. Regardless of her efforts to drop the issue, she just couldn't help but wonder what had made him pull away. Or if he was ever going to kiss her at all. The debate had rattled around her mind until she succumbed to sleep, only for him to be the first person on her mind when she awoke the next morning. 

It was just past eight am and Y/n was getting ready to meet John at his room, and then Robert in the lobby so they could all head to an investor's brunch when three short taps on her door had her making short work of finishing up with her shoes so she could get to the door. "John?" She stuttered, shocked that he'd made his way to her door much earlier than they planned to meet. 

"Hey, are you ready yet?" He began, clearly not in the mood to spare a minute or two for pleasantries.

Knitting her brows, Y/n looked down at herself before glancing at John again, “Do I look ready?”

She watched as his eyes roamed her form, trying not to stare altogether, “Is this a trick question?” Y/n had suspected he was done and was about to confirm that she was not ready, when John hastily continued, “Cause you look fine. Well, not just fine. You look great actually,” he gestured to her outfit, “I mean,” clearing his throat, John took a short breath and Y/n smirked at how uncharacteristically flustered he was, “You look…..nice, like that I mean.”

Heat rushed to Y/n’s cheeks and he bent her head, too giddy by his compliment to respond immediately, though, she eventually pulled herself together enough to let him know that she was almost done with her hair. He hadn't out rightly said so, but as Y/n finished up, occasionally peeking at John pacing the sitting room, she quickly realized that he was in a hurry and tried to make short work of pinning her soft waves up into a stylish half-updo. 

"Ready," caught off guard, John, who seemed deep in thought, jumped slightly and Y/n had to suppress the urge to giggle as she slipped past the open door, collecting her clutch.

Turning to face her, John stood, stunned speechless for a moment as he stared; in awe of how one simple hairdo seemed to elevate her entire look; highlighting her makeup and boasting the parts of her shoulders that her dress had left exposed. "You….I…."

"Thank you," Y/n chuckled, knowing that speechlessness was possibly the highest praise she could get from John, unlike most times, he wasn't being quiet because he wanted to be, but because he simply didn't think any words would suffice.

Ducking his head bashfully, he grinned surprising her, and Y/n blushed at the realization that she was the one that had roused it from him. "You're welcome."

"Ready to go? I'll just text Rob and-"

"Actually," cutting her off, John cleared his throat, "I actually came to give you something," quickly, he reached into his breast pocket, producing an envelope held closed with red ribbon, "Merry Christmas, Y/n." He presented it awkwardly and had already seemed flustered when he stepped closer to hand it over, "I hope it's not too late," John noted softly as she relieved him of it. 

"Well it is only Christmas Eve, so technically you're-" gasping, Y/n's went wide as she eventually pulled a lone plane ticket out of the paper pocket, "Does this mean……?"

"Yeah," he wasn't smiling, but John's rugged features seemed softer somehow; fonder. "Yeah," he clarified, "You should be with your family Y/n, not here with me. It was wrong of me to-"

Flinging herself to his chest, Y/n captured John in a hug, tossing her arms around his neck and standing on the very tips of her toes so she could bury her face in his neck. His cologne overwhelmed her senses, or maybe it was just the sheer emotion brought on by his touching gift, and she teared up, shutting her eyes tightly to keep the moisture from falling. "Thank you," she breathed, squeezing him tighter when John finally submitted to reciprocating. 

"It was my pleasure," he spoke softly as Y/n reluctantly loosened her embrace though not letting go as she leaned back to meet his eyes. "We should get going though, you're flight leaves soon," he seemed uncomfortable with their proximity, even if he'd kept holding her at the waist.

With quivering, anxious lips, she blurted out; "Come with me." It wasn't a question, instead, more of a suggestion or and offer. If he came, then everything that Y/n thought that she felt between them would be proven real. If he came then they had a chance. 

"I….." John gazed at her, his expression one Y/n had never seen him wear. So indecipherable that she wasn't sure what to expect next, though, when he lifted one of his hands to let his thumb brush the apple of her cheek, his stocky fingers tangled in her hair. "Y/n….." Her name on his lips was breathy and laced with longing and John even leaned down, getting close enough so she could almost taste the coffee lingering on his breath. Arching into him, she was prepared to take an unspoken response as a 'yes' when his expression turned pained and he swallowed thickly, shaking his head, "I can't," he let her go, stepping back as she dropped her hands, "But I can drive with you to the airport."

"Why not?" Clenching her jaw, she bit back tears. She could understand the first time, when they were on the balcony; in the near darkness with shadows dancing on their faces it was easy to misread signals. But that morning, that very bright Christmas Eve morning, it was easy to see that he wanted to kiss her, but he was holding himself back, for a reason she couldn't fathom. 

"Because," looking around the room, John sighed heavily, "I have to work and this morning is important and-"

Shaking her head, Y/n scoffed a dry chuckle, "I can't believe it; I thought you'd changed. But you're always gonna be this person."

"What kind of person?" John's head snapped towards her direction, his brows knitted in irritated confusion. 

"The kind of person that's so ice cold he can't bear to let anyone in. And this," she held up the ticket, "This is just because you're feeling guilty. And I'm not gonna accept it just so you can clear your conscience," hastily Y/n shoved thrust the ticket to his chest, “If you still want me to go, I can find my own way there.”

Gently grasping her wrist, John guided her hand away from his chest, “This isn’t me feeling guilty,” he gritted, “I’m trying to do something nice for you, because……” Desperately, Y/n clung to John’s unspoken words, “Because…..just take it Y/n, it’s a gift. And I mean it when I say that I’m not doing this so I can feel better about myself, I’m doing it because….I…..want you to be happy, and being here doesn’t make you happy.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped and while they weren’t exactly the words she wanted to hear, coming from John, they meant so much. They meant that he, even if he wasn’t going to admit it, was putting what she wanted above what he needed. But more so, it meant that he was choosing to be lonely again, because heaven knows he wasn’t going to spend Christmas with Robert, just so she could be with her family. “Thank you,” cocking a half smile, her eyes softened, only to light up a moment later, “I almost forgot, I got you something. I was going to give it to you tomorrow, but since I’m leaving-”

“Oh,” suddenly unsure of how to behave, John grew red in face and started stuttering, “You didn’t have to-”

Collecting a small gift bag from behind her tote, set on a small, glass dining table. It was glittery with colorful trees peppered about it, with white and green paper sticking out from the top and when Y/n offered it to John, she could tell that the sentiment alone had touched him. “It’s not anything as fancy as a plane ticket, but I just thought you could use…..a little bit of color. Merry Christmas John,” standing on her tiptoes, she handed over the bag, simultaneously pecking him on the cheek, near his lips.

Even after she’d moved away, John remained rooted to the center of the floor, holding the gift bag as if he wasn’t sure what he should do with it. “Thanks,” he managed, still dazed, “You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” shrugging, Y/n stopped rearranging the things she left laid out on the table, something she’d been doing to keep her hands busy, “But I wanted to. Besides, my mom always said everyone should get at least one thing from someone that cares about them on Christmas. You sure you don’t want to come with me? They won’t mind.”

“No,’ he brushed her off, “I’ve got a lot of work to do. But I hope you have a good time with your family.”

Nodding, Y/n smiled faintly, “I will.” As he moved to step around her, intent on leaving her room to let her pack, their shoulders brushed accidentally and Y/n’s eyes locked with John’s. The minute seemed to stretch on forever, but that time, knowing that nothing would come from it, she was the one to turn away, disappearing into the small bedroom, leaving John to let himself out.

Without Y/n, the ride back to the hotel after brunch felt void of warmth. Of course, Robert had tried to strike up conversation once or twice, but John wasn’t in the mood; his head was far away, thinking of the morning with Y/n, their almost kiss, their spat, the way she looked at him before walking out of the room. The way she pecked him on his cheek, so close to his lips that all it would have taken was the slightest shift for his mouth to be on hers. And yet, he hadn’t taken the chance. 

That didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted to though, John had been thinking of what it would be like to kiss Y/n since they were standing on the balcony the night before, and perhaps even longer. He’d wondered if she would reciprocate; part of him clung to the belief that she would, but alas, he was terrible at reading the signals and terribly afraid that kissing Y/n would mean driving away the only person that really cared about him. She cared, she’d almost spelt it out too.

“This is new,” Robert noted beside him, reaching across to flick the end of his navy blue and forest green plaid scarf, the fringed ends shifting as he did, “Nice colors.”

Clearing his throat, John gathered some of the length in his palm, feeling the softness between his rough fingers, a perfect contrast and soothingly warm. It was the gift Y/n had gotten him, the one he’d unpacked the minute he shut his suite door behind himself. The one that had come with a little card in the bag that read ‘for your first real Christmas. Maybe next year we’ll try a sweater.’ The scarf had been a pleasant surprise and John knew that it was definitely because she’d noticed that black dominated his wardrobe, “I just thought you could use…..a little bit of color” 

“Thanks,” he nodded, his low tone gruff, “It was a gift.”

“From Y/n,” Robert probed curiously, causing John to roll his eyes. 

Nonetheless, he confirmed, “From Y/n.” Then catching Robert’s knowing look directed to out the window, coupled with his mischievous smirk, John sighed heavily, “What?”

Shaking his shoulders, Robert  bent his head, pretending to fiddle with his phone, “Nothing,” the other man hummed quietly. “It’s just…….she’s amazing, you know?” And as he began, John rolled his eyes in a bid to quell his jealousy. “She sees the good in people, and she sees the good in you.”

Suddenly defensive, John interrupted, not willing to let Robert add to his inner turmoil, “”Look, I don’t know why you’re telling me this but-”

“I’m telling you this because she won’t. I’m telling you this cause Y/n is my friend and I care about her and she cares about you and all you ever seem to do is upset her. I’m telling you this because she’s a good woman, and I know we’re not friends or whatever, but I’d hate to see you two miss out on something great because you’re too stupid to fess up to your feelings. I see the way you look at her.”

Huffing, John leaned back into the warmed seat of the back sedan, “Yeah? Lemme guess, cause you look at her the same way?”

“No,” Robert chuckled wistfully, “Well, I mean, I used to, but she doesn’t want me like that, and that’s okay, we’re better off as friends,” he shrugged indifferently, “But I see the way you look at her, and I know what that means because it's the same way she looks at you.” 

Finally coming to terms with the confirmation that she did, by some miracle, feel the same, John slumped his shoulders. What came next was perhaps more peculiar that him admitting his feelings, and even Robert seemed surprised by his admission, spoken so softly that he might have said it more to himself than anyone else, “I think I blew it. And now she’s gone.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” shaking his head, Robert exhaled quietly, “She’s not gone. She’s in Connecticut, and for what it’s worth, when I spoke to her after her flight landed, she was pretty bummed that you wouldn’t go with her; cause she doesn’t want you to be alone tomorrow.” 

Still rubbing the soft fabric between his fingers, John sank into thought after merely a mumbled response; maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late after all. 

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

#john wick #keanu reeves #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #fanfic #ff #john wick fanfic #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #fanfiction #this christmas #this christmas part 4

[lockdownuk]

Lockdown Diary Part 7

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 181: Typing on day 182. I received an email from someone at DSM who had got my CV from Helen Proctor (she was the manager that interviewed me along with the founder) and wants me to interview for a IT business consultant role for a shoe firm (Loakes) in Kettering. I called the chap and had a quick chat and arranged it for Wednesday.

A few beers, as it’s Friday, and caught up via video chat with Foggy and Irish Mike (Foggy’s on quarantine having holidayed in the south of France). It was a late one and they were both pissed, but nice to chat. Andy and Ham were meant to join but were no shows - Ham had his sister’s funeral this week - might explain it.

Day 182: I messaged Ham - he went round his folk’s house after work last night as his two sisters were there. I have to admit, I am ignorant of all of Ham’s brothers and Sisters so he may well have meant one was Preaya in an urn.

Someone on the Oundle Chatter FB group asked about Google Hangouts (on behalf of her son who is attending college and they have online classes using it. I am now about to look into it for her. Why did I get involved. It’s 8pm on a Saturday, ffs!

Update, I researched it and messaged her - seems I hit a nail on the head and she seemed suitably grateful. Booze and pizza coming right up (at 9:15pm)

Day 183: Up at just before 2pm - I drank shed loads last night and went to bed after 4am. Faffed about but did manage my stair climb, a 10km walk and I am now making a roast dinner-ish tea (chicken breast stuffed with red leicester and wrapped in bacon) with all the veg and yorkies (I am trying to empty the freezer as it needs defrosting).

Day 184: I posted on FB that today was half a leap year of lockdown (that’s wrong, should have been yesterday). Rachel replied that it isn’t lockdown anymore. I replied that it is for me but that got me thinking - are we officially in lockdown still? Checked, and we are. Posted that on the same thread and Badger replied that the current level of lockdown has been uprated to level 4, whatever that actually means. Rachel’s post worries me - 1. ‘cos it’s indictative of the far-too-relaxed attitude and, 2. I wasn’t even sure even though I’m still observing the same lockdown behaviour that I was before Boris made his announce on March 23rd. Scary how facts bleed into fiction. 

Jim contacted me today, asked me to call. I did so, he says I’ll be asked to return to work (from home) on the 5th October (two weeks). Shirley from HR will be in contact. I’ll believe when I see the email from her! 

Day 185: Boris announced a tightening of the relaxed lockdown including pubs shutting at 10pm. None of it really affects me since I’m still in as full a lockdown as when it started.

Received an email from John Morton at DSM for an interview at Loakes tomorrow (Wed) at 09:30am.

Received a Facebook message from the editor at Oundle Chronicle - he wants to do a short article about the photos I take and post on the Oundle Chatter fb group.

Day 186: Interview went ok.

Called Dad and Rita to let them know that I received an email from RCI confirming that I will be back at work on the 5th of October.

In the evening, Facebook had posts concerning somebody walking round Creed Road with a knife in his hand, and the police getting involved!

Day 187: Spend spend spend. Paid my speeding fine today £357, my water bill £147, bought two new duvet cover sets and two new sheets £58, a new pair of walking boots (my relatively new Hi-Tec are leaking and falling apart) £75. Oh, and the car insurance renews day after tomorrow, £230. Thank fucking fuck I’m being taken off furlough!

Day 188: Friday and I’m going to have a few beers and watch a couple of films.  I’ve been trawling through Seinfeld and am most the way through S3, and it’s brilliant. The Kramer character is mentally good. One episode had the actress who played Janice in Friends - that episode is a classic - which also included an scene whereby the cast are all exclaiming ‘Saturday night’ similar to the Friends TikTok trend. Got a call this morning about a service delivery lead role for EPM, a education service provider, based in Huntingdon. It’s a good role, very involved, reporting directly to the head of IT. But it’s only £32k pa. I replied to the email the recruiter subsequently sent to say I am interested but that salary is less than £5k pa than I am on now as a 2nd line support techie!  Lastly, I am well on my way to doing 500,000 steps in September!

Day 189: I was woken by the doorbell - a delivery of one of the duvet cover sets. On the door mat was a missed parcel delivery note from Ryal Mail (I have to get whatever it is from Warmington PO) and a note from next door (No. 34) asking for me to turn my music down at 10.30pm. That’s fair enough but....10.30pm! What are they, 80 years old? I have felt low today. There is no rhyme nor reason as to my moods suffice to say I am not of the happiest dispostion on a permanent basis, resigned to being alone. In fact, I have come to terms with the fact I’ll die alone but, it seems, some days I cope with it a lot worse than others. On that cheery note, it’s 8.45 pm on a Saturday night so, I am about to launch into some beers, weed and pizza. I think tonight I’ll seek out the second John Wick film - watch the first last night - so fucking good. You gotta love Keanu!

Day 190: Hopefully the last Sunday of having an enforced no-work-on-Monday so I’m going to have a beer or two (it’s now 8:20pm - just cracked open a Bud), watch American Sniper and eat Chilli and naan bread and onion rings. I did a 12 km walk today - I recall a time when 40-45 minuts walking was enough. Today’s walk was 2 hours! I know it’s only walking but I feel fitter than I have for years; still unfit, but fitter. Day 191: Well, I enjoyed the decadence of boozing last night but it meant getting up at after midday! Still managed two walks, trip to Tesco’s in Hampton after picking up the mystery parcel from Warmington PO. It was two unknown bottles of beer for a marketing campaign I entered a few days ago! I have to not open the beers until I receive instruction whereby I’ll be joining in with other drinkers in video chat! Day 192: Smahed 500k steps for September with one day to go! Cleaned the kitchen - I’m going to do the whole house over the next few days while I have the free time since I’m back to work on Monday.  The lad from next door called round this eveing to ask if I got the note. When I said yes, he told me they (he and his partner) can still hear music. FFS! I asked where their bedroom was, it’s along side mine, so I guess it’s the TV sound that is travelling up and disturbing them. Great, fuck knows what I should do if I want to watch anything after 10:30pm. I suppose going back to work is good timing..I shall be going to bed around that time myself, especially if I want to get up early to get a walk in before starting at 09.00 am.

Day 193: Typing on day 194. Only managed one walk today, before 9.00am. It made a great change walking that early. I then set about doing housework (which I started yesterday) - I want to clean the house from top to bottom before going back to work. i.e. while I have time during the working week. I did the Kitchen yesterday and the whole lounge today. It’s fucking knackering. I managed 519k steps in September, works out at 9.6 miles per day, which is good and, also, annoying. I have taken delivery and laundered all my new bedding. It’s brushed cotton lushness, can’t wait to try it. Last ‘happy hour’ of (this current) furlough, so I had beers (and a fucking spicey sausage casserole)...hence penning this a day late.

Day 194: I didn’t get out of bed until nearly 2pm, FFS. Spome with Ricky Roberts about kayaking, it sound sliek something I could take up but, I would need to join the boat club to have somewhere to get in and out!

Day 195: Sueanne from work called to let me know she’s taking over from Jim ‘til new yer and that the team are looking forward to my return - lovely. Dad called, he and Rita are fine as usual - lovely.

Day 196: Got up fater 2pm. I was seriously fucking wasted last night. Had a video chat with Fog - just checked, it ended at 02.04am and I did a lot more drinking and smoking after that. I still managed a 9.7km walk and am now going to settle down to a few (just a few!) beers, shepherds pie and watch Casino. Day 197: Quiet Sunday with some bizarre results in Super Sunday in the prem. Man U lost at home to Spurs 1-6 and Liverpool were thrashed at Villa Park, 7-2. Work tomorrow, feeling a little apprehensive, not sure why. Got to go to the office (to reset password) at 09.00am

Day 198: Back to work. It went OK. I had to go to the office so that my a/c could be enabled and password reset and t get VPN working. There were a few problems but I was back home and logged in OK in the afternoon. Saw Mark in the office - he’s lost weight and was telling me about a cycling accident - I knew about it, but I didn’t realise he had been in hospital and had a plate put in his shoulder. He also has the exact same issue with codeine as me! I am pleased to be back at work but it’s different - no Jim and Sueanne in charge is the main thing. I’m just going to keep my head down; it’ll be for the best.

Day 199: Second day back at work and I’m (trying to) crack on with it. It’s all coming back... New walking boots arrived today (I have them on as I type); I reckon I’ll be OK to walk in them with no breaking in. That’s just as well as my evening walk took me by the marina and the path between the lock, the small bridge and, especially, the larger bridge into the field at the bottom of Basset Ford Road was flooded, no way my boots will be dry for tomorrow.  I did my stair climb before work, 3.5 km walk at lunchtime and then a long, second one, as mentioned, later. I want to try and do a short walk before work in future, hopefully. On the way back from the lunchtime walk, I saw the lad from next door who thanked for me keeping the music down as per the note he left, so, that’s all good.

Day 200: I’ve started a work diary,  à la ENDC....nowhere as urgently required but I just think it’s a good idea.

I wore my new boots for the lunchtime walk (3.6km) and they’re fine. However, I didn’t use them in the evening, they niggled the left foot a bit, so some breaking in is required. My usual ones were just about dry enough having been sat on the radiator! Day 201: Popped into the office today to pick up my full headset dongle, did a quick shop at Asda. So, only one walk today. I have not yet managed to get a walk in before work, just the stair climb, so missed out on a lunchtime walk today since I was shopping. Did 8.5km in the evening. Bought a card online for K’s birthday. Not sure why, we seem not to be communicating - I haven’t heard from her for over a month now which, as mentioned before, I shouldn’t find as hard as I do. The card’s pretty cool though, a quip about just getting a card as a present would involve non-essential travel. Now I am back at work, I want a to do loist app. I recall a smart one that was a linear/curved affair that I saw on Producthunt but, fuck me, I couldn’t find it after over an hour looking. Then I checked Google apps and there it was (Lightpad.ai) - I was chuffed and relieved. The lad from oundle School has been trying to get hold of me via Messenger (he tells me by email) so he can interview for the article in the Chronicle. He has pencilled in Saturday at 6pm.Fuck knows if it will go ahead, the whole thing is sketchy. Day 202: First week back at work over and done. I ordered some stuff from Amazon (slippers and socks) and they offered a free trial of Prime, which is the norm, but, seeing as I have had a free trial under that a/c, I assumed it would error, as I have seen before. This time it didn’t! So, tonight, I just about to have some beers, eat pizza and watch The Gentlemen,. It was suggested by Miles on FB when I asked for  recommendations. It’s been on my to-watch list since its release. I need some cheering up, I’m having a low ebb today.Day 203: Typing on day 204. The Gentlemen was pretty good. I had lots of beers and smoke and went to bed fucking late, gone 4am. Up at lunchtime. I was meant to be going up Foggy’s for a few beers and to listen to Cobblers vs Posh but I sacked that off. I went for a walk at tea time when it got dark fucking quick and pissed down. I didn’t mind ‘cos Posh won 0-2. I watched two films in the evening: Master and Commander: Far Side of the World and Official Secrets. Both excellent. Day 204: Another late night, so up at just before 2pm. 12.64 km walk! I’m going to make stirfry and watch Knives Out...taking advantage of Amazon Prime.Day 205: I didn’t watch Knives Out last night, Amazon Prime was playing up. Tonight, however, after uninstalling and reinstalling the LG app, it’s working again. But, rather than a film, I have started watching The Boys series. 3/4 through the first episode and I’m kinda hooked. Another long walk tonight (I didn’t go out before work or at lunchtime), over 5 miles. My new boots are a marvel...they’re still new - I can tell I’ve got a little bit of wearing in still to do, but, pretty much from the off, I can walk long distances in them. I’m impressed. I think, because they are so light, they may be susceptible to the cold, especially now I can walk for longer periods without hypo-ing. The snow and frost will be the test.Day 206: Bit of a frustrating day at work. I am pleased I have a diary of events to update, that’s all I will say on this potentially public diary. Had a chat with Mark about certain aspects of the day, it was a good chat whereby he agreed with some of my gripes. In the evening I took part in a Ipsos marketing test of two beers with a whole bunch of people online. Ultimately, you have to choose one of two beers you prefer and answer questions why. It’s then revelaed which beer you chose. The beer I iked best was Stella but 4.6%, I think that’s the next product iine for them. You don’t get to find out the other beer. I shoudl recieve a £15 amazon voucher for partaking. If that actually happens, I’m going to buy a pair of gaiters. My new boots are fab (although I did turn my ankle last night) but their insides don’t half attract gravel and debris.Day 207: A productive day incorporating ToDoist with work and GCal, I have sacked off Lightpad.ai (it was too cumbersome moving tasks between dates) - so I managed to tick a few things off the task list as a result (responding to Jo Broom’s voicemail, chasing an eye appointmen, for example). Tim came round and did the garden, nice chinwag. I saw little Derek the other day, as well, he’s not coping great with the whole pandemic atm, certainly now lockdown has relaxed, he’s not as social as before. Day 208: Had a chat with Sueanne today, which is not unusal, and I was asking about creating KBs...she remarked how well, and quickly, I getting up to speed. It pleased me. I am having battered fishcakes, potato wedges and peas for tea. I am looking forward to it the most ridiculous amount (it’s cooking as I type). I shall eat as I watch more of the rather excellent The Boys. Seinfeld is on the back burner atm. Day 209: Emily Folgate’s room mate at uni has tested positive for Covid19! Marc’s avoiding the pub and I am glad I didn’t pop up there last Saturday! Bumped into Ash and Dee when i walked past the vets, chatted for 5 mins, it was really nice to see them. The lady next door (38) stopped me outside to say she recently realised that it was me who posts photos to FB, and said they’re ‘amazing’! End of week 2 back at work. As I type, I’m on my first beer, about to have many more and a smoke, half way through The Trial of the Chicago 7 on Netflix. Living the dream! Day 210: Things got messy last night. Sugar levels were a mess. I couldn’t even make it upstairs at one point, laid down on the long rug nursing a big bottle of coke. Got up at around 1pm and did usual shit, now having a beer, spicy sausage casserole in the oven (and it is fucking spicy) and I’ll pick a film to watch in a bit. Posh won, 2-0 at home to Oxford, up to 4th, one point behind Lincoln.

#diary #Tumblr diary #lockdown #covid19 #lockdownuk

[davidmann95]

This week’s comics?

SPOILERS, fairly casually

The Immortal Hulk #23: It’s Immortal Hulk. If you’re not getting it you’re doing comics wrong.

The Amazing Spider-Man: Going Big #1: Hadn’t actually planned on picking this up but found myself to my own surprise pulled in by the cover. Main story by Conway and Bagley was predictably quality, the middle by Macchio and Nauck wasn’t, and Larsen’s wrapup was the most fun but that villain was...a choice if she had existed before, even moreso if she hadn’t. Passable for die-hards, but I’m baffled why this exists when we’ll also be getting Full Circle; I guess this is for major past talent while that’s more the current hotness?

Fantastic Four #14: Best issue of this volume yet, especially with Paco Medina in tow, and a jumping on point I’d recommend even to those who’d already understandably written this run off. Might not come off as a total embarrassment next to the ‘ancillary’ FF stuff coming later this year, which actually isn’t a small compliment given the talent stacked on Grand Design, 2099, and Negative Zone.

House of X #4: At long last the X-Men doing X-Men stuff, if not quite how anyone would have expected it. Lot hanging on the implications in the margins of Hickman’s grand plan at this point in terms of parsing what happens here, and even that leaves more questions than answers (clearly clones are involved, but what does that mean for the current and future situation?). Also it rules.

The Wicked + The Divine #45: I look forward to now being able to reread this series to learn whether or not I particularly like it. I’m sure I will, it’s Gillen and McKelvie and I usually enjoyed individual issues well enough even if I could never remember what the hell was going on, but I often need to reread Gillen’s stuff before it properly clicks with me.

DIE #7: This however grabbed me right off the bat and has yet to let go, even though I’m still not positive I know what’s going on.

No One Left To Fight #3: The ‘romance’ subplot I wasn’t sure about has wrapped up about as well as could be hoped for even if it feels kinda like a sour note to me, and otherwise this remains a load of fun and I’d like to see it pick up more attention.

Doomsday Clock #11: Hahahaha they actually did it, Superman’s on panel with a dick in DC’s biggest comic. Beautiful. GOSH there should not be a comic where Superman’s defending an all-but-explicitly Trump-occupied White House from a revolutionary brown man, though. And the heck is up with ‘Nibiru’? Is that a throwaway thing, or a setup for something coming up in the regular books? Anyway, this book remains ridiculous, shockingly entertaining and ‘significant’-feeling, gorgeous, and fundamentally broken, having squandered the legitimate potential of its concept at virtually every turn but still fascinating in spite of itself, maintaining a veneer of high-minded ‘mature readers’ structure and ambition laudably far beyond anything Johns has ever approached in the past overlaying a truly dumb as hell event comic core. My main question at this point is whether the ending will be ideologically rancid, ideologically null, or the former attempting to be the latter, and how interesting it’ll be along the way. And as I noted on Twitter, it remains hilarious that Good Doomsday Clock was conceived of almost certainly in part in response to this, created, announced, and released in full entirely within the lifespan of Actual Doomsday Clock.

DCeased: A Good Day To Die #1: Fun comic, absolutely get it if you’re getting the main mini, but how on Earth did they net Darick Robertson for this? I’m thrilled to see him, but the hell? Has the guy even done anything with Constantine or zombies before?

Lois Lane #3: Rucka can spend all the time he likes picking up Gotham Central/52 threads as far as I’m concerned, and the Lois (and Clark) stuff in here is as on-point as the first two issues.

Legion of Super-Heroes: Millennium #1: A lot of fun, jarring as it is to pivot from quoted Kirby dialogue to Bendisspeak on a dime, but this and #2 clearly should have just been a big one-shot.

The Green Lantern #11: Still a ton of fun. Is the ‘Golden Lantern’ gonna tie in at all with Legion? Also I’m going nuts here not being able to recall who the Lantern with the prism chest and Yondu-fin is. Is she new?

Doom Patrol: Weight of the Worlds #3: Um...wow. Wow. What a hell of a high concept when presented as it is here, and as good an execution as could possibly be hoped.

Superman: Up In The Sky #3: I talked about the first story that may well hold this title back from otherwise deserved perennial status when it came out in the Walmart issues - maybe the most hideous misfire of King’s career - but the second here’s an all-timer.

Justice League #31: Fuck the geezers, the REAL stars of the show are officially onboard after what felt like 83,000 years of waiting! Shame about how Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and Kamandi are definitely doomed now, I’ve always liked ‘em, but I’ll call it a fair trade-off for the return of Justice Legion Alpha. I’ll admit though, much as I’ve traditionally been fairly ambivalent on them it really was charming to see the JSA again, especially now that it’s clear that their new setup won’t interfere with the position of Superman and the Justice League.

Batman vs. Ra’s Al Ghul #1: From page one this is every bit as ratfuck baying-at-the-moon out of its goddamn mind as I could have hoped of any self-respecting sequel to Batman: Odyssey, and it might be the book I’m gonna be most excited for every month now. God bless Neal Adams for doing whatever the hell it is that man does, and sharing it with us undeserving wretches.

#Week's Comics #Opinion

[revolverized]

my url? >wo

come get ur love / accepting

@sanctiichor

Do I Follow Them?:

YES

Why Did I Follow Them?:

of all the FF characters to choose WoL seems like a strange one at first but the way you write him makes me so.... Heart Eyes but also Star Eyes i need more

Do We Role Play?:

SINGULAR THREAD COUNTS. WE ARE BUSY BEANS

Do I Want To Role Play With Them:

YES.... two different types of stoic

An AU Idea For Our Muses:

im living the john wick au so its just making me think of any business type au involving them as snippy business partners lmao

A Song For Our Muses:

we dont have enough built rlly so take this

Do I Ship Our Muses?:

only in that sweet business rivals forced to work together way so far

What I Think About The Mun:

you seem so blessed?? also i adore every bit of art you post like lORD

Overall Opinion:

im glad someone decided to write WoL ESPECIALLY SOMEONE LIKE YOU. i love this man

Blog Rate:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

#asks #sanctiichor

[opfuckery]

Get to know me tag game!

Thanks for the tag: @sunshea7

Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag blogs you’d like to get to know better.

Nicknames: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Sign: Taurus

Time: 2:21pm when I started and 4:13pm when I posted (I get distracted easily)

Do you have a pet and if so, what kind: Oh boy! Four cats: Zoey, Shadow, Buddy/Baby boy and Momo. Two dogs: Arya/Ari and Blitz. One bird: Ryo. Roughly 10,000 fish, 2 eels and a few other exotic fresh and salt water fish because I live with someone who breeds them. Wouldn't count them as pets though.

Favorite color: Green and then yellow and orange

Favorite band: I don't have one of those.

Favorite solo artist: I don't pay attention to bands, what they're doing, whos in what, who leaves or who joins so i don't know whats considered solo or whats considered a band but I mean, does Amanda Palmer count? Is she solo? I love her.

Song stuck in your head: Nothing, thank goodness.

Last movie you saw: ????????????? Dunno but next movie I am going to watch is Black Panther finally

Last show you watched: One piece, finally, after not watching any of it for like a month.

Tv shows I hate: Hmmmmm... I don't vehemently hate anything I don't think.

Least favorite character ever: Again, I am not much for hating but I am certain there are some characters I dislik greatly. I just don't dislike them so much that it sticks with me after.

Favorite Genre of book/movie: I love horror, which might seem odd. But action and horror but also comedy.

Best book or series you've read: there is one book i adore but can't outwardly admit it because it blew up as the worst thing ever during my high school years. So I will just say John Dies at the End because that's my favorite series that relates to my favorite genres which are, as stated, action, horror and comedy.

What is one thing you really want to want but can't afford: Comfort. Safety. Sounds vague as hell, I know, but I just need a space to call my own where I don't feel like I need to be on costant alert, picking through all my words to make sure I'm saying only the right thing.

When did you create your blog: July 2017 apparently.

What do you post: My own one piece gifs maybe every so often but for the most part it's other peoples op creations and my own incessant whining :)))

Do you have any other blogs: Yes and no. Yes I do, but not in relation to this blog and not any I want to make public.

Why did you choose this url: Op stands for one piece and one piece really is just a whole lotta fuckery. Also it sorta rhymed.

Following: 222

Followers: 1,631

Average hours of sleep: Hell if i know anymore lol maybe 6 or 7. I'm up around ten every day because of my dog so it just depends on how late I stay up.

Lucky number: I never understand this question. Who has a lucky number? Where do I find out my lucky number?

What are you wearing: Pajama pants, they are pink with little sheep on it. I have a tank top and my GMM hoody over it to keep warm. Two different colored socks. Orange and black :)

Dream trip: Bitch, I don't care, just get me out of the city.

Fave food: Cheeseburgers. Salmon. French dips. Those are the biggies but I really just love to eat...

Nationality: I am American.

Favorite songs: Definitely never the same and I doubt I have any real favorites but I'll throw pandora on and the first three songs I am happy to listen to will be todays favorites lol. Ain't No Fest for the Wicked by Cage The Elephant. Pumpin Blood by NONONO. A Good Start by Fivefold.

Last book I read: :)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) lol

Top 3 finctional universes you want to join: I would just straight up die in any of the cray cray ones. I am not a fighter BUT I would love to play the part of a little villager in a cray cray world so like... maybe one of the FF game universes? Where the cray cray is out there but you can just chill in your little village if you wanna.

And I’ll tag: You. Do it. And then tag me so I can see.

#tag game #get to know me #text post #fandom #i think ive done this one before but some things change here and there :) #i like doing them

[graciousheaven]

THE SOUL THAT WON’T FAMISH

Prov. 10:3 “The LORD will not allow the righteous soul to famish, but He casts away the desire of the wicked.”

Justice is not inherent in human nature. In other words, no one has a righteousness of his own. Thus this verse is not a reference to self-righteousness, but to “that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which comes from God on the basis of faith” (Phil. 3:9). For no one is inherently righteous in God’s sight, (cf. Rom. 3:10, ff.), “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23). “But to him who does not work but believes on Him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is accounted for righteousness” (Rom. 4:5). That is to say, it is the Lord who clothes us with the garments of salvation, it is He who covers us with the robe of righteousness.

No man in his natural state accepts nor does he understand the things of the Spirit; he does not seek the Kingdom of God and his righteousness. But the righteous soul, being regenerated by the Holy Spirit as a result of God’s grace, hungers and thirsts for the things of the Spirit, he seeks the Kingdom of God and his righteousness; he “[puts] on the Lord Jesus Christ, and [makes] no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires” (Rom. 13:14). On the other hand the wicked, whose god is his natural desires, seeks to satisfy the desires and passions of the flesh; he is prone to carnality and worldliness. But that in which the righteous soul delights is the spiritual food, the Word of God, which is the Light for the soul, the Bread of life, the Living Water, i.e. Christ – He nourishes the soul, sustains it and sanctifies it. Every righteous man hungers and thirsts for the Word of God, he pursues holiness and peace. Thus, the Lord never lets him starve, but supplies him with the spiritual food and resources that satisfy his soul and enable him to grow in godliness.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied”, declares the Lord in Mat. 5:6. That is to say, He who supplies the seed to the sower, and bread for food also attends to our spiritual needs by lavishing his grace upon us, in order that we may be well equipped to live a godly life. The Lord calls us in righteousness, holds us by the hand and watches over us. Anyone who delights in that which the Lord delights in is satisfied, the Lord attends to their spiritual needs. This is clearly affirmed by the Lord in John 15:7 when He declares, “If you abide in Me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” Ps. 37:4 reads, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.”

One of the characteristics of genuine believers is that they never reach a plateau in their life here on earth as far as the pursuit of godliness is concerned. As we grow in our walk with Christ our Lord our hunger for righteousness never ceases. On the contrary, there arises in us a greater desire to be conformed to the image of Christ, as we see more sins in our lives than before, not because we practice or indulge in grievous sins, but because we have come closer to the holiness of God, we have seen more of his glory and have become more aware of the wretchedness of our hearts. Hence our hatred for sin grows as our desire to be like our Saviour increases. In other words, our hunger for righteousness deepens as our knowledge of the holiness of God and our sinfulness increases, and the good news is that the Lord never allows us to famish. As our hunger for righteousness increases, greater God’s supply for our spiritual growth becomes. The Lord continues to feed us as we hunger and thirst for righteousness, as we seek to live a humble and godly life. And this is greatly important in our walk with Christ, because the more our hunger increases, the more we are sanctified, the more we become conformed to the image of our Saviour; we pass from one level of holiness to the next. For the Lord in his grace continues to provide us with what our souls now delight in.

To the righteous the Lord says, “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you” (Mat. 7:7). The Lord’s ear is attuned to the cry of the righteous, because that which the righteous hungers and thirsts for is according to the will and purposes of God; he loves what the Lord loves and hates what the Lord hates. Being baptised into the family of Christ by the Spirit of grace, he is a partaker of divine nature. “Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires” (Gal. 5:24). They follow Christ in his walk and glorify God with their lives. And since the Lord our God wants us to be holy, because He is holy, so does He delight in those who pursue holiness, those who seek to be conformed to the image of Christ. Therefore He does not allow such to famish.

This is a comforting truth for us who believe in Christ because, as fallen creatures we do not look within ourselves to find the strength and the power to overcome the flesh and its desires that wage war within us; rather we look up to our Saviour whose Spirit sanctifies us and equips us for all good works. He has given us his Word to enlighten our souls, and gifted us with a means of grace (prayer) through which we can cry out to Him for help against the desires of the flesh. The Lord is our victory over the flesh, sin, worldliness, death and Satan. And nothing we seek from our Heavenly Father in order to subdue, to overcome the desires and passions of the flesh does He withhold it from us. “Now this is the confidence that we have in Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us. And if we know that He hears us, whatever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we have asked of Him”, says 1 John 5:14-15.

The will of our Heavenly Father is our sanctification (cf. 1 Thess. 4:3), and so when we hunger and thirst for righteousness, He satisfies us because that is exactly what He desires for us, that we become holy because He is holy. It is a comfort to know that our Heavenly Father is there to fulfill the desire that we have as Christians to grow in godliness, because if we were to look in our own strength to satisfy our spiritual needs, we would famish and remain into spiritual deadness forever. For we have over the flesh no power that is inherent in our being; we cannot overcome by our own effort sin in our lives. God alone by the power of the Holy Spirit grants us victory over the flesh; the Spirit of God who resides in us, believers, is the one who sanctifies us, He gradually kills sin in us by opposing the flesh. He who begins a good work in us brings it to completion; He finishes it.

The Lord pulls us out of the pit of darkness, He nourishes our souls and sanctifies us by his truth. And until the day He is going to glorify us He will never stop feeding us, He will never stop providing us with what we need to live a godly life, a life that brings glory to Him, a life that exalts Him. “For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for Himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works” (Titus 2:11-14).

As for the wicked, the Lord casts his desire away because he lives in the passions of the flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind; his soul delights in evil, in the things that satisfy the flesh. Prov. 21:10 reads, “The soul of the wicked desires evil; his neighbor finds no favor in his eyes.” Prov. 4:16-17 says, “They do not sleep unless they have done evil; and their sleep is taken away unless they make someone fall. For they eat the bread of wickedness, and drink the wine of violence.”

The desires of the wicked are evil and are meant to satisfy the flesh. The flesh pursues that which is ungodly, it delights in: “adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lewdness, idolatry, sorcery, hatred, contentions, jealousies, outbursts of wrath, selfish ambitions, dissensions, heresies, envy, murders, drunkenness, revelries, and things like these” (Gal. 5:19-21). Such abominations do not and can never receive God’s approval, because He is holy; there is no darkness in Him. Although in order to fulfill his righteous and sovereign purposes the Lord often uses what the wicked devise for evil, He never mandates the wicked to do evil, He is never the cause of evil. The Lord does not partake in their evil schemes nor does He tolerate them. The Lord hates evil and those who do them. The Lord casts the desire of the wicked away, because it is ungodly, it is sinful, it is an abomination in his sight. Prov. 15:9 reads, “The way of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord, but He loves him who pursues righteousness.”

The ear of the Lord is attuned to the cry of the righteous, but He hates all workers of iniquity (cf. Ps. 5:5) so much so that even their sacrifice is an abomination to Him (cf. Prov. 15:8). Therefore, since the wicked is always filled with the desire to do evil (cf. Prov. 4:16-17), they constantly face opposition from God; their evil schemes are overthrown, they are cast away by the holy God who does not take pleasure in wickedness, but brings the abominations of the wicked upon their own heads. So borrowing the words from Prov. 1:15-18, I urge you today! “Do not walk in the way with [the wicked]; hold back your foot from their paths, for their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed blood. For in vain is a net spread in the sight of any bird, but these men lie in wait for their own blood; they set an ambush for their own lives.”

It is written, “Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers. The wicked are not so, but are like chaff that the wind drives away. Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous; for the Lord knows the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish” (Ps. 1:1-6).

https://www.faithintheoneaboveall.com/post/proverbs-10-3

#live without fear #satisfy the soul #seek life #seek fulfilment #be filled #no more famish #no more dread #graciousheaven #God provides #Proverbs 10:3

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Protective Service

John Wick x Reader (A/n- Hopefully this chapter isn’t too confusing. Flashbacks in italics)

Masterlist   Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3

Warnings- Mentions of murder/violence, angst

Chapter 4 Beautiful Nightmares

Drenched and breathless, Y/n awoke with a startle, her wide eyes confused by the darkness. It took a moment before she’d realized where she was; in her bedroom at her penthouse, safe and alone. Her chest was dominated by heavy, uneven breaths and the black silk of her simple, lace edged camisole clung to her skin uncomfortably. Even as Y/n tried to settle herself, inhaling deeply through her overly dry mouth, she couldn’t push the flashes from her very vivid dream away;

A couple, swaying in each other’s arms as pale yellow moonlight washes the dark wooden panels constituting the floor of the back porch as soft music wafts from a radio on an end table. The woman’s giggles are soft as her husband leads them in a  slow, casual waltz and not too far off, after she’s been told to not stray near the lake, a young girl no older than six, plays with a plastic fairy wand, entertaining herself. She loves fairies; she wishes they were real but her mother always reminds her that they are, and that she’d the most beautiful one of them all.

It was one of Y/n’s fondest memories of her parents, the last one that had really embedded itself in her memory before the bad. Their love was one that seemed to stand out above rest, though, Y/n supposed that at that age, she couldn’t have known much about romantic love anyways. She hadn’t learned much more about afterwards either, only that it was destructive. That in the end, all it could do was hurt you.

The fire below the rustic, cobblestone mantle laps viciously at the iron barrier separating it from the rest of the sitting room. Not too far off, near the designated holder, one of the pokers lay forgotten. He hasn’t really spoken to anyone in days, not even his seven year old daughter and his eyes have taken on this sort of vacancy that makes its almost frightening to look at him. She’s scared of him, and the only person that would know what to do is gone. Meredith is gone, for good. They took her. It’s been three days since they found her on his birthday, three days since he knew that everything had changed, even if he can’t quite explain it to their daughter. Three days since she’s been asking for her mommy and three days since she’d gone from adoring him to fearing the shell of what he used to be.

The dream, it had taken a nightmarish turn and at some point, Y/n wasn’t watching her parents dance in the backyard while she chased fire files, instead, she was standing in the doorway of the sitting room, watching her father stare that the fireplace, wondering how the bravest man she knew could seem so lost. She hadn’t understood then, and she wouldn’t, not until the funeral, where a large service had taken place at a mortuary and the police had showed up, poking and prodding until someone, Donavan’s father, who had a long standing connection with the commissioner’s office, had stepped in and scared them off. That was probably the day he’d really changed, her father. After that evening he’d gone from broken to cold and ruthless. No one stood in his way because they were simply afraid to, and without his wife as a buffer, things had changed in his organization quickly. Trust could no longer be borrowed, it was earned and traitors were appropriately dealt with. If he couldn’t bring back his wife, then he’d definitely vent his frustrations where he could.

After Meredith passed, Y/n had clung to her father, even if he’d never been the same. He’d cut out most of his affectionate traits and though they were close, most of his time was spent molding her into someone unshakeable. Someone who wouldn’t ever have to feel the way he did. It was working too, by her teens, Y/n had developed into a stolid adolescent, able to suppress whatever she was feeling so she could one day grow into the woman he’d be proud of. The woman he’d never meet.

Money, it makes everything easier. People like you better, you can shop wherever you want and know one bats a lash when you do something you shouldn’t have. Or maybe, just maybe, that last thing isn’t a consequence of money. Maybe it’s fear. It doesn’t matter though, she’s used to that too, the look of fear in people’s eyes when she walks into a room. Even her father’s muscle sometimes squirm around her, there’s no telling what she’ll do or say, she’s just so…...vulturine. Face of an angel with the prowl of a predator. But even predators have bad days, terrible days, the one that becomes their worst day. 

Hers came after one of the most mundane afternoons of her life; she’d gone to a little pastry shop in the city with the son of one of her father’s affiliates. He’s a nice boy, just a couple years her senior and while letting people in is hard, Jack understands the life. Y/n’s dad likes him too. Her dad. “Daddy?” She calls out, pushing one half of the front double door closed behind her as she steps inside, the heel of her booth thudding quietly on the hardwood. It’s eerily quiet in the manor and in the air hangs a metallic smell that she knows all too well. The combination of gunpowder and blood. Usually, it's the smell she associates with her father and the business he’s training her to take over, but that evening, there’s a distinct portentousness that mingles with it. It’s too quiet, too cold, as if someone forgot to turn up the heat to combat the temperate fall evenings. 

“Daddy?” she calls again, only to gasp upon entering his home office. The white rug dominating the room is saturated with warm red and some of it’s even seeped out to the hardwood, probably staining it and almost causing Y/n’s to slip as she hurriedly enters. “Daddy,” she emits a choked breath as she sinks to her knees, not caring if the blood soaks the blue denim of her jeans. Immediately, she pulls off her scarf, doing the only thing that seems logical in that moment, pressing it to the gaping gash on his neck, trying to quell the rapid, almost cinematic flow. That’s sort of how it feels too, like Y/n’s been plopped into a movie, because that can’t be real, her father can’t be dying in her arms. “Hold on, okay?” Her mind is going twenty miles a minute and while she knows that there are people that she can call for help, all she can think is that she needs to help him now. 

He tries to speak, though, he’s literally drowning in his own blood, and that’s the first time that Y/n realizes that his wounds are mortal. Not just the slashed throat, but also several stab wounds to the chest. The sounds are sickly and stomach turning, and the sight isn’t much different, but still, she persists, he won’t see her undone. Even if inside, Y/n feels like she’s being ripped apart; torn to shreds by winter breeze. The feeling makes something change inside her, and as she presses the rich cashmere to the split in her father’s neck, Y/n feels the surge of something inhumane shoot up inside. The last shred, the only person she can truly care for has been snatched away, and in that moment, she becomes what he’s wanted her to be for the past thirteen years, made in his image. Utterly ruthless, unashamedly vengeful and undeniably frightening. 

The dream, even after several minutes of sitting up in her California king, stuck with her, and if Y/n shut her eyes, she could still feel the warmth of blood on her hands and hear the sounds that her father made as he struggled to take his last breaths. It had been a while since she’d last had a dream like that, but Y/n would have preferred to attribute the runnings of her subconscious to the events of the past couple weeks; having to clean up the mess of a betrayal but more so her mother’s birthday. With a heavy, deflated sigh, she flopped back, moving messy hair away from her face and dragging her fingers along her scalp. 

The clock on her bedside read as twenty minutes to four and despite the hour, Y/n knew that committing to slumber soon wouldn’t have been possible, so instead, she slunk out of bed, not even bothering with her robe as she slipped her feet into a pair of comfortable, fluffy flip flops before heading towards the door.

It was a soft, hesitant knocking that roused John from his slumber. A heavy sleeper might not have heard it, but his ears were trained, never missing a thing, and he awoke almost immediately. Groggily, he took a moment to blink sleep out of his eyes as he weaned his hand out from under the pillow, where he usually kept a pistol. Registering the time as quarter to four in the morning, John also noted the near darkness of the large room, the only light besides that of the neon green numbers of the digital alarm clock being whatever filtered through the thin, grey curtains; some from apartments in the opposing building, a street lamp and the quarter moon. It was enough to wash the shiny marble floor with a white glow, though not nearly enough to disturb John's sleep.

Again, the knocking on his bedroom door called his attention, and with a soft sigh, John flipped the thick duvet off his legs, planting his feet on the floor and padding barefoot towards the door. "Y/n?" He knitted his brows upon the sight of her; dressed in the suggestive pajama set he'd glimpsed her in earlier, the same one that had brought with it all sorts of crude thoughts as he'd fallen to sleep. 

"Hey," she breathed meekly, tongue darting out to moisten her bare lips as Y/n tucked some hair behind her ears. She seemed so unlike her usual self, a little unsure, and much…...softer, almost harmless even. The pale white light coming from the opposing window illuminated her delicate features with a near bluish, ethereal glow. "I uh," she cleared her throat, standing a bit straighter, "Sorry for waking you."

That was odd, she never apologized. Shaking his head dismissively, John’s hand slid up the edge of the door as he slid against the frame, fleeting sleepiness disturbing his focus. Or maybe it was something else. “It’s okay,” something about the mood felt…...off. John couldn’t describe it really, like the air was swirling with something electric, making everything a little hazy, “What are doing here? It’s late.”

“I know,” Y/n didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, and John couldn’t help but notice the absence of confidence in her disposition. It was so unlike her to be so unsure of herself and jittery. “It’s just,” she hesitated, mulling on her next words, “I can’t stop thinking about you John,” his name was a breath of her lips and when Y/n finally reached out, her palm hovering over the sleeve of his t-shirt before landing on his bicep. “I know its……..sudden, but it's true, and I can’t take the not knowing anymore. John-”

“Its okay,” he reassured softly, his eyes softening as he stepped forward, reaching out to place a hand on her hip, he raised the other to brush a couple strands away from her face, “I feel the same. There’s just something about you,” he searched her gaze, still cupping her face and his thumb ghosted the apple of Y/n’s cheek, “It just pulls me in. I’ve tried Y/n, but I can’t get you out of my head.”

“Good,” sliding her hand up his shoulder, she embraced the side of his neck with her warm touch, leaning into John as she stood on her toes, “Have you been dreaming about me John?” He could feel her breath fanning his lips and feel the warmth of her skin emanating from her top, “The way I dream about you?” Y/n pecked the corner of his lips, curling her arm around his neck.

“Yes,” he shuddered, feeling her lips travel along his jaw, his crotch twitching appreciatively at their proximity. His arms locked around Y/n’s frame, ensuing she was flush against him and his senses had never felt so awakened, making John acutely aware of how her full breasts were pressed to his chest, and how silken her skin felt when a couple of his fingers evaded the hem of her blouse, gracing the lower part of her spine. “I dream that I’m touching you, feeling you around me. I dream that…..”

“That what?” Y/n reached up to nibble on his earlobe, her free hand journeying between their bodies to grope him through the thick material of his sweats, “What else do you dream about John?”

“That you’re mine,” involuntarily, he bucked into her expert touch, his grip on her tightening possessively, “I want you to be mine,” he growled, a surge of jealousy pluming in his chest at the thought of Y/n being this way with Donavan. 

As one of John’s palms searched her warm skin, eventually reaching up to cradle Y/n’s upper back, she brought her lips over his once again, sharing their longing breaths, “Then make me yours,” Y/n tilted her head, leaning in and almost letting their lips brush, teasing him. “Do it John,” she prompted enticingly, “Make me yours.”

In an instant, he’d crashed his lips to Y/n’s feverishly, holding her in place and humming roughly into her mouth as his only response. Y/n stumbled forward when John stepped back into the room. The way she responded against him was unmatched and for just a second, every bit of guilt he’d harbored because of his growing feelings for her vanished, if only it could stay gone.

“John,” a familiar voice intruded, urgency growing as he ignored it, “John!”

It wasn’t Y/n, it couldn’t be her after all, and when John finally pulled away, he was greeted with the most gut wrenching sight; his Helen, standing in the doorway, hurt tugging at her features. She looked the way she did just before things got bad, before the long hospital stays and the machines. So impossibly beautiful, so incomparably pure and right then, so undeniably wounded. Her eyes, the ones he’d fallen for upon matching them for the very first time, welled up with tears, shining in the low light and her paled features were smeared with the twinge of betrayal. 

“How could you?” She sobbed, just as John untangled himself from Y/n, not noting the way her face changed, focused only one one thing; his wife.

How could he?

“Helen!” John brushed past Y/n, following Helen out into the hall, just as the hem of her white dress fled the corner. But he could hardly run fast enough and before John could reach for her arm, she was gone.

“Helen,” John shot up in his bed, breathing heavily as he lunged forward. Even with his eyes now open, adjusting themselves to being so suddenly opened, he swore he could still see Helen as if she were right there, at the foot of his bed, tears in her eyes as a result of his betrayal. It was exactly what he’d been afraid of; betraying her memory. John couldn’t do that to her, he’d fought for his life just so he could live to remember her, the love they had. The only love he ever had.

Scrubbing his hands over his face and then through his hair, before turning on the lamp at his bedside and pulling open the drawer of his nightstand. What he sought laid at the top, and without hesitation, John brought out a picture and a little card out, holding them each in one hand. Every time he looked at the photograph, the memory would come back like it was yesterday, that day at the beach, when in each other’s arms was the only place either of them wanted to be. They’d known she was sick then too, but times were simpler and treatment had been working well. They had time, time to build a home, plan a life, be in love. 

Before Helen, that day he’d laid eyes on her in that restaurant, John didn’t think his heart had ever beat that fast. For a long time, he lived, fought for his life in the military and then under the mob, but when he met her, John, for the very first time, felt truly alive. And when she died a year and a half prior, part of him did too. Even if the love he had for her would never waver.

A lone tear fell dripped onto the photo and John’s teeth tugged on his lower lip to suppress a sob as he opted to shift his burning gaze to the letter. One of the last things he had to remember her by. Daisy was long gone; stolen by a fool who’d cashed for an untimely death, but John had held on to that letter. The only reason he’d still had it was because he’d had left it in his car, which, thankfully had been in the shop when his house had been destroyed by another dead fool. That card had kept him sane in dark times and had given him a glimmer of hope in quieter moments. 

“....you still need something, someone, to love.”

“........and now that I have found my peace, find yours.”

Loving again didn’t even seem possible, and it didn’t seem right either. And even if the glimmer of affection he felt of Y/n should have given John hope for a better tomorrow, she was tainted, corrupted; there was no peace there. Not for him and certainly not for them together. 

Bringing the picture to his lips, John swallowed tightly as he kissed Helen’s image, desperately wishing that things could have been different. He’d have burned the world down if it would save her life. But it wouldn’t have, and it was taking time, but he was learning to accept that. Returning the keepsakes to their security, John pulled himself out of bed, trudging out towards the kitchen hoping to find some remedy for the dryness in his throat. 

As usual, his steps were silent and hardly noticeable and John was just about to turn off from the corridor and enter when something stopped him in his tracks. At first, he’d thought his ears were betraying him, that perhaps he was still caught in his all too vivid dream, until he poked his head out, confirming the more logical explanation. Much to his surprise, Y/n stood in the kitchen, a wine glass on the counter, near a bottle while she had her back pressed against the large integrated refrigerator, head bent and hands pressed to her face as she elicited muffled sobs. Her frame shook slightly and her breaths were audible and ragged.

The sight was more than peculiar, it was surprising and wildly unexpected, yet still, John yearned to go into the kitchen and encourage her towards his chest and hold her until she was okay. Even if he’d had caught her shedding a tear or two in her bedroom a couple mornings ago, he’d never taken Y/n for the type that cried her eyes out when no one was looking, though he supposed that everyone had their limits, things that broke them down and reduced them to a state where nothing else seemed possible. His was Helen, he wondered if Y/n’s was her mother. 

A loud, hitching breath left John dashing for cover, pressing his back to the wall, and peeking out once again soon after, just in time to see Y/n slide down the silver door onto the floor as untamed sobs grew louder. He ached, physically, to go over to her, but the idea weighed heavy on his mind and knowing Y/n, she probably wasn’t seeking comfort anyway, so instead, John gave her what he thought she’d appreciate more; the solitude that he usually craved when reduced to tears, toeing back down the hall, and hoping that by morning she’d be okay.

******

Tagging-@harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea  @jupiterdawngirl

#keanu reeves #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x you #keany reeves y/n #john wick x y/n #ff #fanfic #fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfiction #john wick fanfiction #protective service #chapter 4 #beautiful nightmares #requested

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Taking Chances 2/4

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- Switching perspectives without clear divisions cause why not)

1 2 3 4 

Warnings- Brief mentions of smut, cheesy romance stuff 

Ayiana and Mark had left when the rain had slowed, and Keanu had insisted that they take the rented car back, after agreeing with Y/n that they could fend for themselves. After the couple had left though, tipsy and all over each other, the rain, as predicted by the forecast, had grown heavy again. Though, as the night waned on, most patrons, drunk and tired, had opted to bare the worst of the storm, leaving the pub scantily populated, with Keanu and his newfound friend cozied in a booth near the back, where the lights were lowest, beer bottles and empty glasses laid out on the table. By then, Y/n’s clothes were mostly dried, as was her hair, now in messy curls framing her gorgeous face. “Wait,” drunkenly, Y/n giggled, leaning in so Keanu could catch a whiff of the alluring remnants of her perfume mixing intoxicatingly with the scent of alcohol, “Say that again.”

“Okay, okay,” her fit of musical giggles were contagious and Keanu could help but grin wider as he realized how absolutely breathtaking Y/n was when she smiled, “I got up to check the air, and just like that this lady rear ends me.”

“And the bike slides out from under you?” She finished, eyes wide and her soiree interrupted by her gaping in shock.

“Basically, yeah,” Keanu nodded, “It was insane!” He laughed a bit louder, not caring how much attention they attracted, only quelling the sound when he finished off his latest drink. They’d had so many by then, that they’d both lost count and Y/n and Keanu could both safely say that they were way past drunk.

“But you were okay right?” And just like that, her glassy eyes were sparkling with genuine worry, and again, Y/n leaned in a tad bit closer. The nearer she drew, the harder it was to ignore how plump her lips were, how much Keanu wanted to kiss her. It was so strange, they didn’t know each other very well, and Keanu knew that Y/n would probably be gone by the next day; but he thought he could listen to her for a lifetime, her laugh, her voice, even her silences were enjoyable. She was so unlike anyone he’d ever met, funny, intelligent, confident, but also so very shy at times, blushing when he least expected and laughing at his worst jokes. It wasn’t forced or fake laughter either, it was real, full bodied and melodious.

“Yeah,” Keanu’s smile softened as he reassured her, still surprised by her unexpected concern, “I was standing, so everything turned out fine.” They broke into a bout of silence, a brief one, which Keanu broke, "So, what brings you to Luxembourg? I mean, you're definitely not from around here."

At that, Y/n blushed, thinking back on how she'd messed up the accents on very simple words earlier, "I'm not," she chortled quietly, they'd just been equipped with fresh drinks, and as she thought of her answer, mind to blurry to work out all the details, she spun the glass in her hand, eyeing the whiskey inside with broken focus, "I'm actually here for…...inspiration. I thought some kind of spontaneous trip would somehow get the creative juices flowing, I'm a writer, or at least, I'm supposed to be," she chuckled dryly, "I used to be a journalist."

"Career change? You didn't like it?" Keanu furrowed his brows, holding his chin in his palm, elbow planted on the table. He wanted to know everything about her, willing to listen to anything she'd say, and based on their interaction, he could tell she felt the same. 

"I did," Y/n took a sip of her drink, staring off to the cleared tables ahead wistfully, "I traveled sometimes, but usually I'd be in Washington, covering press conferences and that kind of stuff. It was pretty boring," frowning, Y/n tried to put her thoughts into words, "I always wanted to be a writer, you know, write a novel or something that people would read even when I'm gone."

Like she had back at the bar, though with the moment feeling far more intimate, Keanu took Y/n's hand, curling his fingers over hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, her skin silky smooth. Her plight resonated with him, the burning desire to leave behind a legacy, make his own unique mark in the world sometimes haunted him too sometimes. "But?"

"But?" Huffing with a faint smile, Y/n shook her head, taking another lengthy sip of her drink, "But I don't know how. I mean, what am I even supposed to write about?"

"Whatever you want," Keanu chuckled with a new enthusiasm. Untangling their hands, Keanu rummaged through his pocket for his wallet, eventually producing enough cash to cover their bill and more, before standing and offering Y/n his hand, "Come on."

Confused by his erratic behavior, Y/n's lips hung agape, finding it hard to formulate any semblance of a sentence, "What're…..what?"

"Trust me?" His plea was half a question for her to actually do it and half an inquisition to gauge how much she actually trusted him.

"Trust you?" Y/n shot back incredulously, though still taking Keanu's hand, their fingers interlacing easily, feeling as if they were made to fit, "I don't even know you!" Already, they were already at the front door, and Keanu was pushing it open, pulling Y/n along as he stepped onto the slippery, wet sidewalk. The sound of the downpour, accompanied by the claps of thunder and occasional burst of lightning welcomed them. Heavy drops hit the street and pavement, splattering upwards, in some areas creating huge puddles. In an instant, even though they were still under the guard of the under-croft, their feet were soaked, water clinging to the hem of Y/n's tea length sundress and soaking her wedged sandals, while Keanu's boots were completely saturated, as were his jeans. "Is your plan to get us sick?"

"No," Keanu flashed her a mischievous grin, the act enough to add a distinct boyishness to his rugged features, despite the evidence of salt in his trimmed beard, "You're here for inspiration, so let's find you some. You know what they say about experience." 

Squaring up to brace the weather, Keanu gave her one final glance to ensure Y/n was ready too, and when her eyes complied, he led her out. In an instant, they were drenched, cold rain water matting hair to their skin and  making their clothes cling to their bodies. Y/n barely had a moment to even be concerned with how wet the contents of her bag would be, or even the fact that she was still holding Keanu's hand when there was someone at home waiting for her. All that mattered then and there was the glee on Keanu's face, how contagious it was and how much she wished they could stay like that forever. "Well where are we going for this experience?"

"This is the experience!" Keanu laughed giddily, stopping when they were stood in the middle of the deserted street to look up at the sky, "You can't tell me you've ever walked through a foreign town, with a complete stranger during a storm in the middle of the night."

It was an oddly specific situation and Y/n without even thinking of it, resigned to sharing in his excitement, "No!" It was a strain for her soft voice to combat the sounds around them, "I can't say I have." They were walking down the cobblestone street, following the gentle slope downward, occasionally stumbling as a result of all the alcohol they'd had. It was cold, though neither of them noticed; the company was warm enough, and as they walked, Y/n looked around, closed stores looking vastly different from what they were like back home. There weren't bright lights embedded in the showcase, meant to display products even during closing, and everything just seemed so beautifully vintage, straight out of a forties film noir. 

"Tell me something about yourself," Keanu broke her thoughts as they grew further and further from the pub.

Briefly, Y/n turned to him, biting her lip at how enthralling he looked like that, so picture perfect, as if a snapshot from a movie had been plucked out of a television and placed right next to her. Keanu was nothing like Noah, he was enigmatic and fascinating because of his unpredictability. He laughed easier and much louder, he was shy and bold at the same time and much to her surprise, they didn't have any sort of awkward "getting to know you" period, they'd just lapsed into familiarity in merely a few minutes. "What do you want to know?"

“Anything,” everything. Keanu grinned broadly, knowing that he’d likely be content with listening to her for the rest of his time, without ever growing tired. “Just say anything,” being with Y/n, staggering through the rain, the sound of her kitten heels on cobblestone muted by the weather and her palm warm and right in his, couldn’t be anything other than the optimum of perfection. He’d never felt that at ease with someone, so ready to bare his soul to a stranger, “And I’ll listen.”

For a brief moment, Y/n glanced at Keanu, her smile faltering, softening, as their eyes met. Part of her knew it was wrong; the way she was feeling. If she were sober, then maybe things might have been different, but Y/n’s speech was slurred and her vision was blurry. Her mind was cloudy too, bombarded only with thoughts of Keanu; how much she was enjoying having his hand in hers, how devilishly handsome he was, how desperately she wanted to kiss him. Abruptly, with a pink hue, hidden by the darkness, spreading on her cheeks, Y/n turned away, “Lets see,” she deliberated, “My favorite book is The Great Gatsby, I moved to Washington for college when I was eighteen,” she thought some more, “And I love eighties music!”

Throwing his head back in wild euphoria, Keanu gazed at her, “Were you even alive in the eighties?”

“Nope!” Y/n giggled, almost tripping, only to be caught by Keanu, who took the initiative to pull her closer. Her laughter sobered, and in the back of her mind, Y/n knew she should pull away, tell Keanu the truth, but his embrace was warmer than anything she’d ever felt, and when she stole another glance at him, only to find him gazing down at her, his expression illuminated by the flickering street lamp, all she could see was a face that seemed strange and oddly familiar simultaneously. Then it hit her, she didn’t want to tell him, Y/n wanted to live like that with him, even if just for the rest of the night. It was out-rightly selfish, and utterly wrong, but she had a feeling that Keanu was worth it. Her heart hadn’t fluttered like that in a long time, and it had been ages since she’d done something so spontaneous. 

Keanu hadn’t noted that he’d been leading Y/n in the direction of the hotel that he’d been staying at until the elegant building came into view, yellow lights glittering through the screen doors leading to individual balconies and the valet’s station vacant, possibly due to the storm. “Where are you staying tonight?” Keanu inquired as they floundered towards the front doors.

“I…..” Wide eyed, Y/n stuttered, “I have no idea,” despite her distress, she was still smiling faintly, I guess I’ll get a room here.” Already, they’d stepped through the door, greeted by the middle aged doorman who warmly welcomed the two with French salutations. Easing her hand from Keanu’s grip, moving some soaked hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, Y/n twisted her body to rummage through the contents of her handbag, searching for her purse, in hopes that the hotel would have an unbooked room.

“Or you could just stay with me,” Keanu blurted, causing Y/n to stare up at him with a perfectly surprised expression, “Come on, it’ll be fun, we can have some more drinks, get to know each other better, it’ll be fun.” Holding his breath, Keanu hung on to the hope that she’d say yes; he really wasn’t ready to lose her company yet.

Internally, Y/n debated Keanu’s offer. It seemed appealing, and she wanted to say yes, to just go for it and see where the night took them. But she was engaged, and maybe going up there with him was taking the fun too far, she already felt like a cheater anyway. Not because of what she’d done exactly, you could hold anyone’s hand and it would mean nothing, no, the guilt had bubbled up like a broil in the pit of her stomach because of how she’d felt. You shouldn’t feel the way she did about Keanu when you had someone waiting for you to come back. To come home.

But Paris wasn’t home, and while she’d tried to make Noah her home, like he’d done with her, Y/n knew she was straying, far, far away from what was ordinarily familiar. She didn’t want familiar that night, she wanted Keanu, the thrill, the loud laughter that she’d easily sunk into, the feeling of getting lost in his whiskey eyes and the insurmountable comfort that came from simply holding his calloused hand. Y/n had the burning urge to know him, learn him, hold on and not let go. The feelings swirling around in her chest weren’t ones that Y/n thought could be built so quickly, yet there they were, and all she could say to his offer was, “Let's do it.”

Stunned by her willingness, Keanu’s features brightened tremendously, and he swore he’d never smiled so hard, “Great!” Taking her hand again, they trotted towards the elevator, leaving the deserted lobby behind, squinting at the bright lights and foggy reflections that dazzled their eyes as they entered the metal contraption. It took a minute or too, his eyes squinted and his stocky fingers fumbling until he found the ‘15’ button, hitting it harder than he should have. As they went up, they found that the air in there was colder than it had been downstairs, and when a shiver ran through Y/n, Keanu, without thinking of it, wiggled his fingers out of hers, proceeding to drape his long arm over her shoulders, reeling her in.

Instinctively, Y/n nuzzled into his side, reveling in the warmth that radiated off his body despite his soaked outfit, swallowing tightly as she tilted her head upwards, only to find that Keanu was studying her, his expression soft, though wanting. No one had ever looked at her like that, not even Noah; like she was everything that mattered, all wrapped up in one person. Like she held the clarity to every unanswerable question in her eyes. Like love could be simply contained in a stare. Love? Love. For probably the first time since they’d sat down in the pub, Y/n stopped smiling, though, it was only because the giddiness had been replaced by something more…….consuming. Thoughts of drinks and a chat late into what remained of the night dispersed, and the lump in her throat only thickened. Tell him, one voice urged, while the more careless one pleaded with her to just let things unfold. One night with a man who’d made her feel like she was the only woman in the world couldn’t be so bad, could it?

As if it were fated, their faces gravitated towards each other, just as Y/n turned slightly in Keanu’s embrace, cocking her head to the side. His lips were barely a hair away from descending upon hers and she could readily smell the alcohol on his breath, mixing with the scent of the rain and a long smoked cigarette. Altogether, it was alluring, and Y/n wondered if the next day she’d be able to go back to a life without it; if she’d be able to leave Keanu behind. She didn’t want to find out. As he came closer, her breath hitched, the soft sound contained in the hollow of her throat, and right as it was about to happen, right as she was about to finally break a sacred promise, the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open, ready to the deposit the pair on the sleepy hallway of the hotel’ fifteenth floor.

“We should…..” Keanu trailed off, not able to quite shake off the feeling that had prompted him to try to initiate a kiss in the elevator, though still leading Y/n towards his room, down the end of the hall. Secretly, he hoped that the moment could be rekindled when they reached their destination, it would be a lie if he’d said he hadn’t wanted to kiss Y/n since the moment they’d met. The thought had bounced around in his head all night, hope building in his chest every time their eyes locked, but the time never seemed as right as it had until they were in the elevator. Clumsily, he shoved his key card into the designated slot, swearing under his breath when he’d gotten it wrong the first two times, the mood only lightened by Y/n’s incessant giggles at his plight from nearby. When Keanu finally got it right, he was the first to enter, though she was close on his heels as he slapped the light switch near the door. 

Still laughing, Y/n barely noticed the kink in the carpet in the threshold, getting caught in her shoe, resulting in her stumbling forward and right into Keanu’s arms. Luckily though, he caught her, his hands planted on her waist, bunching up the fabric of her pleated, dusty rose colored dress, beneath her cropped leather jacket. Even when she was steadied, Keanu’s grip remained, only loosening to slip to her hips. Feeling the air around them grow electric once again, Y/n took the tiniest step forward, only just registering how close they’d already been. Once again, Keanu was staring at her, the way he had been during their moment in the elevator, “He looked at her the way all women wanted to be looked at by a man,” she quoted breathlessly, not quite sure why she’d felt the need to do that, her lips already ghosting Keanu’s.

“What?” Keanu knitted his brows, his arms moving again to circle Y/n’s waist, his tongue hurriedly darting out to moisten his lips as she stood on the tips of her toes to reach him better. 

Raising her hands, Y/n tangled her fingers in his shaggy, wet mane, when the other hand cupped his neck, feeling his scruff tickle her thumb. Barely, she registered the low twinkle of her engagement ring, occasionally made mute by the bursts of lightning that brightened the suite. “Nothing,” Y/n leaned in. Heartbeat to heartbeat, quick breaths in sync and minds only focused on one thing, they finally let it happen. Hot lips, meeting, taking a minute to feel each other out, slow and sweet as Y/n tasted him for the first time, though, growing passionate when their tongues warred. Better judgment was never going to prevail, and when Keanu found the edges of her jacket, pushing it off, she let him, thoughts of anything and everything that was outside of their bubble, fade away.

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt  @iworshipkeanureeves​

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x you #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fanfic #fanfic #fanfction #keanu reeves ff #ff #john wick ff #fluff #taking chances #2/4 #ansgt #john wick fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfiction

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Put Me In a Movie

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- Every time I tell myself I’ll post at 8:30, I get distracted *face palms*)

Summary Prologue  1   2   3

Chapter 4- Already Hurt

Y/n crossed her legs, looking away, her dark sunglasses blocking out the warm yellow rays. For probably the fifth time that hour, she used the joint of her thumb to push them further up the bridge of her nose. That was another one of her telling habits. It was, as it always was in Chicago, windy and from her seat on the cafe’s patio dining area, Y/n could hear the ever existent bustle of traffic; blaring horns in the distance and the hum of moving vehicles. Still, the noise wasn’t enough to drown her thoughts, or the words that she didn’t particularly want to hear.

It was her fault. She was wrong. She was the jerk, the asshole, whatever you wanted to call it.

It wasn’t something that Y/n didn’t already know and it wasn’t a difficult deduction either, but coming from her own father, it kind of stung. “Are you even listening to me?” His familiar baritone broke her thoughts and Y/n was forced to turn back to him, sitting across from her at the round wicker table. Her father, she hadn’t gotten much from him when it came to defining features, some people said they had the same nose, but she never saw it. Y/n had gotten other things though; fame and a name in the industry. Roger was a director, not a director like Jackson though, sure, Jackson was considered a genius in his genre, but Roger had excelled in several, accolades populated the shelves of his Los Angeles home and he was a favorite among the critics. He was a good man too, Y/n was lucky to have him as a father, even if he hadn’t been there for half her childhood.

“Of course I’m listening dad,” she sighed, trying to fully redirect her attention, picking at the sleeve of her disposable coffee cup. After Luke had left, she had called Roger, practically begging him to come to Chicago, craving his advice. He’d know what to do, he always did.

Well, most of the time. 

Always would imply that he’d never been wrong. And boy had he been wrong, one telling example; his marriage.  

“It doesn’t look like you’re listening,” Y/n could almost see the pointed look that he’d blocked out via his own shades. Taking a swing of his black coffee, Roger paused before he continued, “You wanted my advice, and that’s it.”

“Listen to my heart, was your advice dad,” needless to say, it wasn’t the fatherly wisdom that Y/n had been seeking when she called him on Saturday, “I want,” she gestured with her hands, not really knowing what words would be right, “I want you to tell me what to do.”

Roger chuckled quietly, shaking his head, “Kiddo, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” he sighed, his expression sobered once more and he leaned forward a little, planting an elbow on the table top, “Look, I love you, you know that, and I’ll always want the best for you, but this time around, you’re the only one who knows what that is. What I can tell you is that if you really loved Luke, then you wouldn’t have done what you did.”

“I never said that I loved Luke,” Y/n grumbled despondently.

“My point exactly,” at that, Y/n frowned, looking down at her lap. Truthfully, she understood what he meant, if she really was committed to Luke, then what happened with Keanu wouldn’t have been possible, what she felt for Keanu wouldn’t have existed either. But Y/n had stringed him along, and then broken his heart.

“I’m just like her, aren’t I?” Behind her shades, she blinked away tears, taking another sip from her cup, hoping to swallow her emotions. 

Roger sighed heavily, reaching across the table for Y/n’s hand, squeezing affectionately, “You’re mother’s a good woman,” he reminded her. Often, Y/n would wonder if he actually meant that when he said it. 

“A good woman that broke your heart,” dragging her lower lip through her teeth. The memories were ones that she easily recalled; her father leaving for months on end for work and her mother, Elaine,  bringing her fifth grade math teacher to their home, telling her that it was a secret that she’d have to keep from her father. At ten, Y/n didn’t really understand, but she’d kept her mouth shut. But, as all dark secrets do, it eventually came out. Roger had come home early to surprise Elaine for their anniversary, only to find them lounging in the pool, in the backyard of the house he’d built for them. The whole thing had turned into a loud verbal exchange; she blamed him for never being there, he accused her of not appreciating everything he’d done for their family. In the end, Roger had left, but even through their muddy divorce, Y/n had clung to his side, and as she grew into a woman, she’d started blaming her mother for his loneliness and hurt, promising herself that she’d never be like that. 

Shaking his head, Roger passed a hand over his short, graying hair, “This isn’t about me,” that was enough to tell Y/n that he didn’t want to get into the less than favorable memories and that he was ready to change the topic, “This about you, you and Luke and…..” Though she’d told him a lot about the last two weeks, Y/n had intentionally neglected Keanu’s name, it was bad enough that she’d cheated, she didn’t want to imagine what her father’s reaction would be when would be if he found out it was someone just over thirty years her senior. 

Patiently, Roger awaited Y/n’s response, hoping she’d at least drop a name, but instead she just dismissed it with a short wave, “Doesn’t matter, he doesn’t see me like that anyway,” audibly, Y/n exhaled, her thoughts running to Keanu, how much it really hurt knowing that he didn’t see her the way she’d started seeing him. Y/n was never expecting to feel like that, she’d thought that after Luke left, she’d miss him more, but in the days passed, she’d missed Keanu more. Sure, they’d tried to return to some semblance of what they shared before, but they had found that even without a third party involved, things just weren’t the same, there was something about seeing your friend naked that changed everything.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” Roger didn’t need Y/n to say it to know how upsetting the whole situation was for her, he wasn’t willing to discount what she’d done, and even if he had never met Luke, from the stories he had heard, Roger knew he was a good man. But still, Y/n was his daughter, his pride and joy, and he’d always have some kind of sympathy for her, no matter what she’d done. So, even if she was a grown woman and he could no longer fix her problems, he’d still support her. 

Keanu’s eyes were trained on the script, though he wasn’t exactly reading it. The words all seemed jumbled and uninteresting and his mind foggy and clouded with confusing thoughts, most of them involving Y/n. After brunch, he’d hung out with her a couple times, but things had felt awkward and lacking. Her words, much like his, were totally counteractive to her actions, Y/n kept reminding him that things were okay between them, but had declined his offers to meet in his room and as such, they had only met in neutral places; the hotel’s restaurant, a cafe that they both liked near where they were filming and of course, on set. She’d even refused to have breakfast with him that morning. 

Even though they kept assuring each other that things were okay, Keanu could tell they weren’t, and worse yet, he was positive that something was up with Y/n, she had actively brushed off his concern, but Keanu could tell; she was way quieter than usual and she seemed far away most times, deep in thought. He wondered if it had anything to do with Luke’s abrupt departure.

With a heavy sigh,  Keanu closed the script, casting his gaze to the city, visible from his place on the balcony, Lake Michigan not too far off in the distance. Truthfully, it had become a little annoying to think about her that much, especially when he couldn’t really assign a feeling to the thoughts. Everything was just so muddled and confusing and it didn’t help that he could barely tell how she felt. Keanu wished that it could be easier, or at the very least, he could talk to someone about what was going through his head. But alas, the last thing he wanted was for his mother or his sisters to give him a lecture on how he shouldn’t have even been hanging around someone Y/n’s age.  

“Ugh,” he groaned audibly, tossing the script to the glass topped coffee table stationed next to the wicker lounge chair. Leaning forward, Keanu planted his bare feet on either side of the chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. Raking his hands through his hair, Keanu swung his left leg over, moving to collect his stuff and head inside. Maybe he could head to the hotel’s gym, spend a few hours there with his headphones in; that should clear his head.

For what felt like the millionth time since she’d laid down, Y/n turned, that time laying on her stomach, draping an arm on the cold pillow next to her. The position was comfortable, for all of five minutes, and unfortunately, within those five minutes, she couldn’t fall asleep. Groaning, annoyed, she rolled again, coming face to face with the alarm clock, which only seemed to mock her plight. In bold green, the time read as 2:57. There she was, at nearly three am, unable to catch a wink of sleep. 

Groaning, Y/n shoved the covers down slightly, finally settling on her back. It wasn’t like she wasn’t tired, she was, her body was heavy from ten grueling hours of filming; they hadn’t stopped until it was nearly one in the morning and even if they wouldn’t be cooperative and stay shut, Y/n’s eyes burned. The problem wasn’t physical, it was mental. All Y/n could think about was everything that had happened in the past two weeks; the kiss they had tried to brush off, the night she had spent with Keanu, Luke walking out on her, how guilty she felt and finally,  her father’s words, telling her that he couldn’t do much more than offer her a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. 

It all swam around Y/n’s head, the thoughts bombarding each other and eventually coming together in the collective agreement that they would keep her awake, even if she had work the next day.  With a defeated huff, she sat up, dragging her fingers through the mess that was her hair. Briefly, she wondered, if by some long shot, Keanu was awake too.

Don’t think about him.

The reminder took her by surprise and Y/n absently shook her head. She’d been trying to do that recently, telling herself to not think of him when they weren’t together, just so she could bury whatever it was that she felt for him. But it was never to any avail, Keanu had continued to be one of the constants on her mind. It was becoming a pain, especially when she knew that he probably wasn’t even thinking of her.

That hurt.

With a heavy sigh, Y/n swung her legs off the bed, discarding the sheets and stripping as she walked towards an open suitcase. She needed to clear her head, and she knew just where she wanted to do that. 

Slowly, Y/n changed out of her pajamas, into a powder blue bikini, a cute one that pushed her breasts together, with a decorative knot in the center and an inch of loose ruffles beneath the cups. The bottoms were simple in comparison, sporting a regular cut though still boasting a scandalous amount of skin. Y/n threw on a floral printed, black and white cover-up over her ensemble, grabbing her phone and key card as she headed out.

She’d been to the hotel’s interior pool a few times before since they’d been there, but Y/n had quickly found that she preferred it in the dead of night, when most of the other guests were asleep or just flat out uninterested in an impromptu swim. That way, she could have it to herself. It was the perfect place to unwind and clear one’s head. 

Like the rest of the hotel, the room with the awning pool painted the perfect picture of modern luxury; high ceilings and marble floors, the tiny lights embedded into the ceiling  dancing on the seemingly blue water. Because it was so late, Y/n was naturally expecting to have the pool to herself, prepared to swim a couple laps and maybe lounge in the water for a while, though, when she caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette doing the same, she swore quietly, “Fuck!” The lonesome swear echoed, drawing his attention.

She hadn’t seen him since leaving set earlier and she certainly wasn’t planning on running into him at the hotel’s pool. She was trying to not think of him, not give her brain more material to work with. 

“Y/n? Hey,” Keanu stood, the water coming up just past his waist, the long, vertical scar on his stomach taking on a light shine and his black swimming trunks barely covering strong thighs was visible in the low lighting. As he waded closer to her end, he brushed wet, dark hair out of his face. “Couldn’t sleep huh?” 

Y/n inhaled nervously, of all the men in the world she had to be alone with the one who could rile her up with just a look. Stepping back a little, ready to turn and go back to her room, Y/n gripped the neck of her cover-up, “Yeah,” she agreed, “You probably wanted to be alone,” she rambled, “I’ll leave.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I can leave,” Keanu folded his arms on the tiled edge.

Y/n shook her head again, “No,” she dismissed, “You were here first. I’ll just go,” without waiting for him to object, Y/n was turning around and walking towards the door.

“Wait!” He called after her, surprising Y/n. When she turned again, Keanu had stepped back a bit, his arms spread out on either side, “Let’s not be ridiculous this thing is huge. Just get in, we can keep our hands to ourselves,” he joked lightly.

Y/n mulled on Keanu’s offer for a minute. There was no reason for one of them to leave, not really. Friends shared pools all the time, they were friends. Besides, a couple weeks ago, they wouldn’t have even given something like that a second thought before getting in. 

She smiled tightly, walking over to one of the sleek lounge chairs, discarding her key card and cell, “Why not?”

It was wrong, but Keanu kept his eyes on her as Y/n’s lithe fingers went to the knot holding her ensemble together, sucking in a sharp breath when she undid it at an unhurried pace. The thin fabric slid off her shoulders, revealing the two-piece she was wearing underneath, something below the water twitching appreciatively. If she looked good when he was drunk, she looked absolutely beguiling then. Y/n didn’t let the material fall, instead catching it with her fingers and draping it on the chair.

For a hot minute, Keanu looked on, entranced by the way the blue bikini top exaggerated the fullness of her cleavage and how the skimpy panties hugged her hips. The little stud at her navel winked, teasing him. Keanu wasn’t sure if Y/n noticed his staring, but his hooded gaze stayed on her as she sashayed towards the pool, down the impressive steps.  

The water was deep enough to cover her above the stomach and while he continued standing there, trying to shake himself out of the moment, Y/n disappeared beneath the clear blue, swimming around him, her legs gently paddling around him, before she reemerged a few feet away. Keanu paddled backwards in return, trying to put a bit more space between them. 

Y/n’s wet hair clung to her skin, some of it sticking to her shoulders and neck, though none of it was enough to cover the exposed parts of her boobs and Keanu had to keep reminding himself to not check her out. Clearing his throat, he searched for something to fill the silence, the little splashing noises just weren’t cutting it, “So,” he dragged his lower lip through his teeth, “How did the meeting with your manager go?”

Y/n furrowed her brows for a minute, almost forgetting that she’d told Keanu that she was meeting with Walter instead of telling him that she was meeting with her father, “Oh!” Her eyes lit up in recognition, “Yeah, it was okay. He just wanted to…..tell me about a prospective contract.”

That was probably the worst lie she’d ever told.

“Ah,” Keanu nodded slowly, sensing her trouble with the subject, “Wanna talk about it?”

Well, she really couldn’t, considering it didn’t exist. Y/n’s mind went wild looking for a way to change the subject, eventually only turning up with a foolish, childish strategy. Without Keanu noticing, she reared on hand back, biting back a smirk as she splashed him, a tiny wave hitting him square in the face, “Nope,” she popped her lips at the last leg of the word. 

“Wow,” Keanu chuckled quietly, “That’s very mature of you,” he teased, just before retaliating. Y/n stumbled back in surprise when Keanu splashed her with a slightly bigger wave. 

“Talk about maturity,” Y/n playfully rolled her eyes, her grin matching his. For a bit, as they continued like that, things felt the way they did before, comfortable and like they could just be together without worrying. She didn’t realize much she truly missed Keanu until those moments spent in the pool, going to and fro in a splash war. Their laughs bounced off the marble walls, and they both tried to ‘one up’ each other. 

“You’re so bad at this,” Keanu jeered, making Y/n stumble again.

“Me?” She shot back incredulously, stopping for a minute, “It’s not my fault your hands are fucking huge. You obviously have an unfair advantage.”

Keanu scoffed his laughter, “I beg to differ, this is a game of strategy, not brawn, little one.”

Y/n was about to spat something about how he was wrong, argue that his size did give him an advantage, but his last words left her speechless; her eyebrows raised and her lips ajar. Little one. Why did she like the sound of that? 

Within a few seconds, Keanu seemed to realize what he’d said too, his smile fading. He hadn’t meant for it to slip out and that certainly wasn’t the kind of nickname someone gave a friend, “Y/n,” he began, ready to apologize and explain that he hadn’t meant anything by it, “I’m-”

“Luke left me,” she blurted out, cutting him off, for some reason thinking that would help him relax. The air around them seemed to change yet again, though that time it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was just tense. The kind of tense that subconsciously made Keanu step closer. As he did though, Y/n walked backwards, not really to get away from him, but to see if he’d followed her. Something in her mind wanted to know how far he’d go. 

“When?” Keanu frowned, not knowing if she wanted comfort, pity or for him to continue their not so PG game of cat and mouse.

“Saturday,” she managed, moistening her lips. Keanu could see her eyes grow darker as he drew closer. He liked seeing her like that, all small, sexy and easy for him to just snatch up, “After brunch.”

The rough wall of the pool hit her back, catching her by surprise and before she knew it, Keanu was merely a few inches away from her, their bodies so close she could feel his heat but not touching. “Why?” Reaching out, Keanu used the tip of his finger to brush some stray hair away from her face, his feather light, barely there touch, sending shivers up her spine.

“He thinks there’s something going on between us,” the breathy admission escaped her lips and Y/n could see that like hers, Keanu’s pupils were dilated, his whiskey eyes darker than usual. Their proximity was blurring. Half of her  wanted things to go further while the other told her than they needed to stop. She knew which half she was leaning towards.

“Is there?” Keanu tilted his head, his gaze roaming the visible parts of her body, his fingers itching to skim her curves.

“You said there wasn’t.”

“So did you,” Keanu shot back, without missing a beat. When Y/n couldn’t come up with a response, Keanu spoke again, his voice gravely and low, “What do you want, little one?” That time, the words were intentional and Y/n’s breath hitched and she had to press her thighs together.

“I…..” Nothing of substance came and when her silence went on for too long, Keanu cocked a wicked smirk, turning to leave, “Where are going?” 

“I told you that I’d keep my hands to myself tonight,” he shrugged, already padding up the steps of the pool grabbing a towel to dry himself off, “I like to keep my promises,” he winked and Y/n couldn’t help but be a bit frustrated. 

With the fluffy white fabric had lapped up most of the water, Keanu pulled on a pair of low riding sweatpants over his damp swimming trucks, though that was the very least of Y/n’s problems. Without another word, Keanu threw on an old t-shirt and roped the towel around his neck, gripping the ends as he walked away, “Keanu?” Y/n called after him, prompting Keanu to pause to look at her, “Would you have fucked me like that if we were sober?”

Cocking a confident grin, “No,” he chuckled, “I would have fucked you way better.”

*********

Tagging- @harrisongslimited​  @paanchu786​  @thesadvampire​  @fanficsrusz​  @fickensteinn​  @ladyreapermc​  @babygirltaina​  @septimaseverina​  @snatchedbylele​  @omg-imagine​

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #put me in a movie #fanfic #ff #fanfaction #chapter 4 #keanu reeves fanfiction #lana del rey

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Love; Lost (pt.4)

-John Wick x Reader (A/n- Not sure what happened, but I really couldn’t get the sumt out for this one. Also, I had to see this through, so there’s gonna be one more part *shrugs*)

Part1  Part2  Part3

Warnings-  Slight SMUT/NSFW, pregnancy

Y/n stood behind John as he unlocked the front door, her overnight bag slung over his shoulder. When they stepped over the threshold, John tapped the switch that would turn on the hall lights, and sensing their presence, Dog came bounding to towards them, running straight past John going to Y/n who was already kneeling on the hardwood, arms open to receive him in a hug. “He might love you more than he loves me,” John chuckled softly.

“Not true,” Y/n smiled, “We just haven’t spent enough time together these days.” Dog happily lapped at Y/n’s face and she giggled quietly, even as she was knocked off balance by his jubilance.

Slightly alarmed, John put the bag down, gently urging his dog to slow down, “Easy boy, we’ve gotta be more careful with Y/n now.”

Giggling, Y/n playfully rolled her eyes, “Relax John, he’s just excited. And so am I, I missed my first baby so much!” She cooed, holding Dog’s face in her hands, succumbing to his love, and eagerly raking her nails along his shiny grey coat. 

John knelt on the floor next to Y/n, watching her out of the corner of his eye as Dog excitedly shared his attention between them both. Briefly, he wondered if they’d ever get to the point of being a family but quickly tried to brush the nagging thought off, good things came with time. Besides, just because things weren’t perfect then, that didn’t meant they’d always stay the same; they’d come so far in just a few hours. 

Eventually, when Y/n and John stood again, he led her to the master bedroom, placing her bag on the chair at her cleared vanity, dutifully getting out her pajamas; a pair of shorts and a silk camisole, while she freshened up in the bathroom. When she was finished, emerging with wet hair sticking to her skin, warm water flushing her cheeks and towel landing high on her thighs, John swallowed thickly, trying to pretend that the sight of her so under dressed didn’t affect him, John slipped into the bathroom himself.

He reemerged, dressed in a pair of comfortable sweats and another white t-shirt, toweling off his dark locks. Y/n was sitting on the bed, smoothing some lotion onto her arms, most of her hair swept over one shoulder, her neck exposed. A little over two months ago, John would have crawled onto the bed, surprising Y/n by hugging her from behind while burying his face in her neck. But then, he didn’t know where he stood; if that night meant anything or if it was just the consequence of a bad day.

Pulling the door of the adjoining bathroom closed, John discarded the towel on its allotted hook, clearing his throat to get her attention. “Hi,” she smiled lightly, placing the little bottle under the yellow light of the lamp on the oak nightstand.

“Hey,” John returned her smile, the room already a bit more comfortable by just the gesture. 

“You coming to bed?” Swinging her legs to the top of the mattress, Y/n shifted until she was under the covers, patting the spot next to her.

Frowning, John sank down on the bed, reaching for Y/n’s hands over the duvet, “You don’t want dinner?” 

“Nope, I already brushed my teeth,” Y/n dismissed, and after a moment of hesitation, John left to do the same and then properly got into bed, propped against the headboard, he rejoined his hand with hers. “I’ve missed this,”  she said, leaning in to kiss him, her hand sliding from John’s, up his arm.

“So have I,” he returned, his lips working in sync with Y/n’s. Their kiss deepened, turning heated and sensual. Boldly, Y/n let her hand on John’s bicep fall to grope his crotch, rubbing him through his sweatpants, smiling when his breath caught and he started hardening under her palm.

John reached around Y/n’s waist, his hand slipping beneath her top, roaming her back, urging her closer. Growing braver, Y/n temporarily stopped her ministrations, only to invade John’s boxers. He moaned when her fingers enclosed his shaft, pumping slowly as she spread around a bead of precum with her thumb.

Feeling him hard in her hand sent arousal pooling in her center and when John’s rough hands traveled downwards, cupping and squeezing her ass, Y/n whined; needy and eager for more than juvenile second base. “John,” she pleaded, her free hand gripping a fistful of his t-shirt, trying to pull him on top of her as she laid back.

Y/n’s hair was fanned out around her on the fluffy white of the pillow like a silky halo, her wanton state deliciously inviting. John helped Y/n out of her tiny shorts and her flimsy panties, just before she used the tips of her feet to shove down his sweats and underwear. Sitting up for a minute, John pulled his t-shirt over his head, ruffling his hair a bit in the process, and tossing it to the side. Next, was Y/n’s pale pink camisole and the sight of her topless left him sucking in a sharp breath; her breasts were fuller than before and John couldn’t believe that he hadn’t really noticed when she was still dressed. 

Noticing his lustful stare, Y/n chortled quietly, “That’s kind of your fault.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” John lowed his face to Y/n, catching her lips first before trailing lingering kisses along her jaw and down the column of her neck. He planned on taking his time with her that night, savoring every moment and taking the time to worship Y/n in a way he hadn’t in a long time. 

Her nails raked along John’s back, her hips bucking to meet his when he spent some time sucking a love bite into the silky skin just above her collar bone. John’s hands held her at the dip of Y/n’s waist and her legs tangled with his, her heels rubbing up and down his calf. Her breaths were slow and ragged, the occasional plea escaping parted lips every time his erection would brush her inner thigh. 

John’s mouth reached Y/n’s chest, he closed his lips around her nipple, something that she always enjoyed, though, that night, she yelped in pain and he immediately he pulled away, chocolate eyes wide with worry, “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Y/n cupped his cheeks, “Well, yes, but it’s no big deal, just maybe avoid the girls for now?” She giggled quietly, trying to lighten the mood.

“Are you sure? Maybe we shouldn’t be.....you know,” John winced at the mere thought of hurting Y/n. Besides, he could wait, it would be hard, but for her, he’d do it. 

“John,” Y/n pulled his face down, kissing him, smiling at how his hair tickled her cheeks, “It’s fine, we can have sex, I want to.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to hurt you or the baby,” one of his hands left her waist to caress the side of her face, “I can wait.” Logically, John knew that it would be okay if they continued, but he couldn’t stand the thought of making her uncomfortable on her first night with him in so long. 

“It’s fine,” Y/n stressed, “Don’t you want to be with me?” She pouted, lower lip pushing out. In another circumstance, for instance, if she were fully clothed, it might have been simply adorable, but while she was naked and beneath him, John couldn’t do anything more than find it arousing.

“I’ll never not want to be with you,” with his reassurance came another series of kisses peppered onto Y/n’s neck, that time as he inched into her. Y/n moaned loudly, her fingers curling in John’s hair, the rest of the world slowly becoming nothing but a blur.

The next morning met Y/n awakening to the spot next to her empty and cold. With a groan, she patted John’s side a couple times, making sure that he really wasn’t there, though, when she cracked her eyes open, she realized that her hands hadn’t betrayed her. John wasn’t in bed, and he apparently hadn’t been for a while. 

With a heavy huff, she propped herself into a sitting position, taking a minute to collect her bearings. The room was one she knew by heart, and sitting there, she felt more at ease that she had been in weeks. Y/n had missed her home. She had missed John too.

Glancing at the alarm clock on John’s side, she found that it was near ten in the morning. She’d slept in longer than she had in months. Just before Y/n could start wondering where John had gone off too, the strong aroma of food cooking and coffee tickled her nose. For a minute more, Y/n continued there, though, afterwards, a pang of hunger struck her, motivating her to get out of bed, find some clothes, brush her teeth and head downstairs.

When Y/n found John in the kitchen, he was at the stove, dressed only in his low riding sweats from the night before, turning a couple pieces of French toast in the pan on the electric stove. It always surprised her that John was such a good cook, it wasn’t exactly the type of skill set that one expected from a world famous assassin, though, Y/n supposed that his culinary skills was more the result of being alone for so long as opposed to working for the Russian mob.

“Are you just going to stand there, or do you want breakfast?” Y/n could hear John’s smile softening his words. She hadn’t made the slightest peep since walking into the room, opting to lean on the wall with her arms folded at her front, but John never needed an announcement to know he wasn’t alone in a room.

Giggling quietly, Y/n padded towards him, barefoot and the hem of John’s t-shirt ticklish on her thighs. Hugging him form behind, she pressed a kiss to the center of his back, then proceeded to press her cheek to his skin. Even if they had yet to speak on the topic of their relationship, Y/n, at least for a while more, wanted to pretend that nothing had changed. “I’d much rather stand here.”

“I realized,” John chuckled, turning off the burner and shifting in Y/n’s embrace so he could hug her back, “Good morning,” he finally offered her a proper greeting, pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

Y/n’s palms slid to cup the sides of John’s neck as she leaned into him, “Good morning,” she returned softly when their kiss ended. Things hadn’t been like that in so long, far before Y/n had left, but that morning, things, even for a bit, seemed to return to a lighter time, when relations were better between the two. When John was still a man in love, who could easily forget the horrors of the world when Y/n was in his arms and when Y/n wasn’t reading so much into every protective gesture. After a few more doting pecks and lingering hugs, they pulled away and Y/n asked if she could help him finish up.

“You can help by sitting down and having something to eat,” he said, firm but teasing as he handed Y/n a plate with a couple pieces of toast.

“Well then you have to let me clean up,” she pouted. It was an agreement they had before she left, one would cook and the other would clean, that way, the work would be shared. 

“No, I don’t,” already, John was packing the dishwasher with things he was finished with,  afterwards moving to wipe the counters, “What I need to do is make sure that you take it easy.”

Huffing, Y/n rolled her eyes and frowned, setting her plate down. It was just a little thing, but already, she was annoyed. Probably more than the situation warranted too. “This is never going to work out if you keep being like this you know.”

Tossing the dishcloth to the sink, John leaned his hip on the opposite granite counter, mirroring her stance, “Come on, lets not do this now. Just have breakfast and-”

“When do you want to do this?” Y/n’s gaze hardened as she solidified her position. Maybe it was hormones, maybe it was just her tendency to be stubborn, but she wasn’t about to just let the matter go; she had put it off for too long anyway. “We can’t keep playing house and pretending everything is okay John, cause this isn’t going away.”

“Okay,” he sighed, exasperated, “Fine,” he gestured his surrender with his arms, planting them at his sides afterwards.

“Don’t just say fine. That’s how you want us to deal with this?” Her glare shot daggers his way and Y/n could feel her anger bubbling. John had always been a man of few words, but Y/n would think that their relationship was worth a lot more that four letters, “Because if you do then-”

“I’m saying fine because you haven’t even told me what’s wrong yet,” his gruff voice rose and octave as he pushed off the counter top. Internally, Y/n cursed herself for tearing up that easily. Spotting the shine in her eyes, John’s shoulder slumped; it wasn’t like he woke up that morning intent on upsetting her, “I’m sorry baby,” he frowned, approaching her, placing a gentle hold on her shoulders, “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Sniffling, Y/n pulled away a bit, swiping at her eyes, “There’s so much wrong John,” sighing closed her eyes and leaned her head back, trying to pull herself together before continuing, “You’ve changed so much within the last year. You always to keep me here, and saying that its for my safety, but maybe I’d be safe if you were actually home. We stopped going out, I hardly ever got to work and the worst part was that you were never even here, I was alone, all the time. And I never knew where you were, or when you were coming back. I felt like a pet or something,” Y/n didn’t meet his gaze, instead, she opted to look towards the window.

“Y/n,” he breathed, swallowing tightly, “I never meant to make you feel like that, but there was so much going on, and I couldn’t drag you into it, it wouldn’t have been right.”

“That’s it?” The explanation that he offered seemed almost laughable. After everything, he couldn’t even give her a couple details on what ‘so much’ was? “John, maybe this was-”

“Okay,” he cut her off again, “I’m sorry. Just let me explain,” Y/n gestured half-halfheartedly with her hands for him to continue, and after thinking for a minute, he did, “I started trying to get out last year. I wanted to be done with the mob and the High Table and everything else. But to get out, I had to make some friends, and then kill some enemies. If they knew the reason,” he paused, moistening his lips before clarifying, “If they knew about you, then they’d come after you, and I couldn’t risk it. I just wanted to keep you safe Y/n.”

Why hadn’t he just said that in the beginning?

“How do I know you’re not just saying that? John,” Y/n sighed, her eyes teary again, “I don’t what you to say whatever you think is going to bring me back; I can’t live like that again.”

“I know,” John tentatively planted his hands on her hips, “I promise its the truth. I wanted to get out so I could....” And just like that, his face lit up with an idea, “I can prove it to you, just wait here,” kissing the top of Y/n’s head, John jogged up, headed up the stairs to the bedroom.

When John returned, it was with a little velvet box in hand. Once again standing before her, he flipped it open, “The night you left; I came home early, because I wanted to surprise you,” dragging his lip through his teeth, John took a deep breath, hoping it would make Y/n believe him, “Y/n, a long time ago, I promised that the day i could find my out, I’d marry you. And now, I’m closer than I’ve ever been, just a couple loose ends, and I promise, that life will be behind me. Behind us. Please, please believe me.”

Y/n searched his eyes for the truth, and looking into them, she found the most honesty that she’d seen from him in a while there, “Ask me,” she breathed, “If you still want to.”

“I want to,” John assured her. Granted, he’d originally had a much more elaborate proposal in mind, John sank down on one knee, one hand holding Y/n’s the other gripping the box with the ring, “Y/n,” he began, “Will you marry me? And forgive me, of course.”

That time, the tears came freely, and her breath caught in her throat, heavy with all kinds of emotions, “Yeah,” her watery smile was more than John had hoped for, “On both counts.”

“Chuckling,” John breathed a long anticipated sigh of relief, removing the ring from where it sat and slipping it on to the designated finger, right where it belonged. The large diamond stood out on her otherwise bare hand and after admiring it there for a few seconds, John stood, dropping the box as he scooped Y/n up in his arms. Their kiss was deep and filled with love. He couldn’t believe it, she had said yes.

Y/n clung to John, relived that they’d mended their relationship. All she ever wanted was right there in her arms, “I love you,” she mumbled against his lips.

“I love you too baby,” John set her down, one large hand sliding to her stomach, “We’re going to be a family.”

“We are.”

*******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited​ @cynic-spirit​

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