#keanu reeves one shot

[arece]

Late Arrival

♤ John Wick x platonic!f!reader (father/daughter duo???) series masterlist

(𝟷)

♤ Summary: You accidentally kill a man after he attacks you, only to discover he's the son of a very dangerous and powerful gang leader. Your safety is now entrusted in the hands of John Wick. (2.6k)

♤ Warnings: Attempted assault (not successful or too detailed), John Wick violence and death, descriptions of injuries and blood.

♤ a/n: This is possibly one part of many. I roughly have a whole series planned out but would like to see if others are interested in it before I fully commit to it. If you have any thoughts or requests of what you'd like to see with these two, request away!

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

The bright crimson leaked a trail down the alley towards you and you threw yourself back in a last ditch effort to keep it away from you. There was already enough blood on your hands which you desperately tried to wipe away, it was too late they were already stained.

What you did finally hit you as you caught sight of the bloodied pipe tossed to the side of the now mangled body. “Fuck.” You almost start heaving as your breathing begins to pick up. Where did he even come from?

You were on your latest job for Aurelio, stealing whatever parts he needed for his latest design. He came upon you when you naively tried to steal from him months ago, when he caught you he seemed the furthest thing from pissed.

Highly amused he thought a crafty thief of a fourteen year old was good for his business. He took you in dubbing you the ‘street rat’ and you ran his errands. It was better than living on the streets, surviving off of scraps like you’d been for the last two years. Although weary of the man and his definitely not-so-legal work, you agreed to join.

Being discreet was your biggest ally, being so young you were mistaken for just a regular kid which made it easier to hide away in plain sight, stealing from the unsuspecting. After living on the streets for so long you liked to think you knew the city inside out.

Twisting through alleyways was the perfect way to remain out of sight, it was also the perfect way to get attacked. You were leaning against the wall, catching your breath after almost getting caught from your latest heist.

You may have laughed at the guy when he walked right past you, pissed off, clueing him on who stole from him. You could only think about how annoyed Aurelio was gonna be with you as you ran two extra blocks.

You noticed a shadow moving closer to you from the corner of your eye, before you could move one arm wrapped around your midsection yanking you to a chest and another covering your mouth.

You jab your elbow straight into your attackers ribs, causing them to release you but not before tossing you further back into the alley near a dumpster. You scrambled up and managed to catch sight of the person.

It was a guy, roughly in his twenties. He was tall but lanky and dressed in a way that screamed ‘douchey-rich’. The type of kids who thought they were the shit before getting robbed by the small group of street kids.

“What the fuck do you want? I didn’t take shit.” You had assumed he was one of the guys' lackeys. You realized you were wrong when a sickly smirk grew on his face, his eyes slightly crazed.

He walked closer to you and you backed up until you bumped into the dumpster. He seemed to only get more excited when he saw how scared you grew which only increased the sick feeling you felt festering. “I’m only here for some fun.”

He lunged at you, knocking you to the ground and your head slammed against the concrete. Vision blurred as you watched his wandering hands reach for you. No, no, no. You couldn’t tell if you were screaming but he still covered your mouth with one hand.

Your head turned to the side and by the corner of the dumpster you saw a lone metal pipe. Slowly, your left hand reaches for it, fingertips brushing against the cold metal before you fully have it in your grasp.

You move your hold to the middle of it and use all your strength to hit the end against the side of his head. He falls against you and you cry out, shoving him off you in a panic. Everything feels hazy and faraway.

You stand on unsteady feet now holding onto the pipe with both hands, raising it above your head you let out a sob and smash it down on his head. Again. Again. Over and over till you lose your strength and your lungs give out from your wails.

You dropped the metal beside his caved in head and fell back to the ground. Wiping the blood away desperately you scooch back from the swirling crimson puddle coming from him. Something catches the light momentarily.

A silver pin was on his jacket now tainted with his blood. You choked on your breath when you caught sight of the symbol on it - a card spade. Now you were really in for it, you just killed the son of one of the most influential gangs. Aurelio said they were second to The High Table. You didn’t know much about either but the fear in his eyes spoke volumes.

Pocketing the pin, you stumble up still in a daze. You smear trickles of blood over your face when you roughly shove your hair back. You had a lot to explain to Aurelio, maybe he’ll decide you weren’t worth the risk. Afterall, you’re as good as dead now.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

You stood in front of the garage shop, the definition of a mess. Clothes ripped, hair knotted, drenched in blood, and you were pretty sure your head was busted open from the earlier fall. Aurelio rushed out, pushing past the others to reach you.

“What the fuck happened?” He eyed you over, his worry breaking through his angered demeanor. You numbly reached into your pocket and held out the bloodied spade pin, “I didn’t mean to.”

He did a once over of the pin and you before shoving one of the chairs beside him, “fuck.” You slightly flinch back but remain unaffected otherwise as you stared blankly ahead. He rubs a hand over his face, catching sight of a gold coin atop his desk.

“I have a favor to call in.” He walks off into his office quickly, muttering to one of the guys about getting you something to clean up with as he reaches for his phone. You're handed a damp rag but just hold it as you listen in to bits and pieces of Aurelio’s phone call.

You mostly make out rough grumbling but catch some words. “Favor…come and see… accident -  he tried to…” You stop listening in after that, shutting your eyes tightly in an attempt to block out everything that just happened.

You don’t know how long you stood there but were interrupted by Aurelio clearing his throat. Your eyes snap open to see him awkwardly gesturing to the rag you held in your grasp. “Not gonna clean up?”

You shake your head and toss it to the side, it didn’t matter no matter how much you scrubbed the blood would remain, hands forever tainted with a reddish hue. “Who were you talking to?”

He pulled up the chair he pushed to the side earlier and brushed your question off. 

His hands clasped together, his leg bouncing up and down in an anxious frenzy, “do you wanna talk about-”

“No.” You snapped firmly. You shocked yourself with the aggression you showed towards him. You shrunk back in guilt. Aurelio seemed to understand as he changed back to the question you asked earlier.

“I called in a favor. Who you killed, you’re gonna need someone to keep you safe and he can.” Your heart dropped in realization, you were right, Aurelio thought you were too much of a risk and was pawning you off to some stranger.

In the end you couldn’t really blame him, you had severely fucked up yet you couldn’t help but feel the burning sting of betrayal and hurt.  He had taken you in, fed you, housed you, and taught you. Now you were being thrown out so easily. “If the Spade’s are so powerful, how is some guy supposed to protect me?”

It felt like a childish jab, like you were one step away from pouting your bottom lip out. Aurelio sighed and brushed a hand over the top of his head. “He’s John Wick,” he slightly scoffed, a ghost of a grin on his face like he’s on some inside joke.

Your brows furrowed, now frustrated by how amused he seemed at the prospect of your imminent death. Your hands formed fists, the now dried blood flaking off at your knuckles reminding you of the state you were in. “Who the fuck is John Wick?” 

“Him.” You looked behind you to see a tall man standing at the entrance in an all black suit. You hadn’t even heard him come in - you really needed to work on people being able to sneak up on you so easily.

He was older, late forties to mid fifties. Shoulder length hair and a full beard that had odd patches dipping near his mouth. The man was stoic, a displeased frown that you could tell sat permanently on his face from the way it suited him.

His displeasure seemed to grow as he observed you before turning back to Aurelio, “she’s a kid.” You huffed out, not liking how he brushed off your presence, “yeah, real observant asshole.” Aurelio glared at you while John continued to ignore you.

“She is. Look, they're going to come after her and we both know I can’t do shit - but you.” John surveyed you again. You felt uncomfortable under his gaze but refused to back down, standing tall. You weren’t gonna let him intimidate you, not after what happened today.

He seemed to find what he was looking for, nodding at Aurelio. “Let’s go,” he grabs the coin from Aurelio before heading out the garage, waiting for you to follow. You began to feel panic crawling up your throat at the idea of leaving with this guy.

You turned to Aurelio, begging with your eyes as you felt your eyes burning, a threat to possible tears. You were scared, god were you scared. Aurelio shook his head, muttering a small, “go” before heading back into his office.

You sniffed, grabbing the stupid part you stole for him and threw it at one of the windows, shattering it. You were hoping for a reaction but was met with complete silence. He gave up on you. 

You followed after John in defeat. He got you into the passenger seat of his Boss 429. While he pulled out he reached into the center console and tossed you some wipes to clean off the blood. You had a feeling it was something he frequently experienced.  

You roughly wiped at the dried blood, you wouldn’t be able to clean all of it off but this will do for now. “Where are you taking me?”

He stared at the road ahead, only sparing you a small glance through the rearview mirror, “the Continental.” His answer was short and blunt, getting information out of him will be hard but you’re persistent.

“What’s the Continental.” Without a moment passing, “a hotel.” You frowned and carelessly let the blood stained wipes fall to the bottom of the car. If he was bothered by it he didn’t say anything. “How’s a hotel supposed to protect me?”

“It’s discreet.” The way he answered in riddles further annoyed you. Your trust in him was short, you don’t know what Aurelio gave him, just the gold coin? Either way it seemed small considering the gang he’d have to go up against and just for you.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” He shook his head. You leaned back in your seat and lifted your legs to rest on the console. No point in fighting this now, you were trapped in the car with him.

Without looking he pushed your legs back down, paying no mind to your glare. “Not safe.” You scoffed, yet listened to him and kept your feet down. “I’m being hunted down after killing some asshole and have to rely on you. I think the car is the least of my worries.”

He lightly snorted at your jab but was cut off by a car slamming into you guys from the back. His arm shot out in front of you, holding you back from flying forward. “You alright?” You breathlessly nodded, watching as he looked back.

He reached back into the console, this time pulling out a gun. He unbuckled you and pushed you down below the window view. “Stay down,” he orders you before getting out of the car, the sounds of gunshots firing immediately. 

You weren’t able to follow his orders for long when the cracked back windshield was shattered. You flinched back down, covering your head with your arms. One of the men in all black tactical gear crawled in towards you.

Your eyes widened, frantically you reach blindly behind you until your hand manages to grab ahold of the door handle. You yank on it just as the man reaches to pull you by your leg, falling out of the car backwards and hitting your already injured head.

You kick at his wrist in an attempt to break free though it was little use. With blurred vision he reached for your arms and pulled you upright. You punched at his shoulders, arms, ribs, anything you could reach as panic filled you at the all too familiar scene playing out.

John turned back from cutting one of the men down with their own knife at the sound of your scream. He was met with you in a mercenary's grip, trying to escape while he tried to search you over.

He flipped the knife around, tightening his grip around it as he strode back over to the car. His steps were silent enough that the mercenary didn’t look up until it was too late. He pulled at the arm wrapped around yours, bending until he heard a satisfying snap.

The man yelled out and you were released from his grip. You fell to the ground and John grabbed the man by his now broken arm until he was close enough to plunge the blade straight through his throat.

Blood sprayed over the both of you as you frantically crawled backwards. John let the body drop and turned to see you looking at the bodies all around with a crazed look in your eye. He knelt down to your level and reached for your shoulder. 

You began to thrash around wildly, shrieking for him to let you go. “Stop- hey, hey,” He tried to call out to you as he wrapped you tightly in his grip, preventing the possibility of you accidentally hurting yourself. 

He held on as you sobbed. You gripped onto him as you came to, not wanting him to let go. “I got you, kid. I got you now.” You heaved into his chest and he clutched the back of your sore head in a soft hold.

After you had settled he cautiously released you and looked you over to make sure you weren’t physically hurt. He gently moved your face to the side, wiping the fresh blood away to take a closer look at the back of your head.

“We’ll get the Doctor to look at that,” he stood up, pulling you with him. He wrapped his arm around you to guide you back to the car that was now severely damaged. You didn’t have the energy to question him, you just let him buckle you in and place his jacket over you.

You curled up in your seat and let yourself fall asleep under his watchful eye. You don’t know how the Spade’s have found you so quickly. All you did know was that trusting him was all you had left.

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x fem!reader #keanu reeves x reader #john wick #keanu reeves #platonic #fem reader #john wick father figure #fanfic #one-shot #imagine #imagines #arece writes #keanu reeves one shot #keanu reeves imagine #john wick imagine

[malavera]

What Makes a Grown Man Wanna Cry?

“Give, in.”

He doesn’t want to admit that he’s wrong.

He doesn’t want to admit that he should’ve just listened to you, hear you out.

He doesn’t want to say that touching that woman was a part of his job, his livelihood, and yours.

But, he lied to you.

And, you didn’t take it very well.

You specifically said no more sex scenes in the acting business. Acting is his passion, that doesn’t mean it should come out as disrespecting you. You understood his passion, but you refuse to understand the part where he needed to do it in spite of his passion.

He grunted, holding onto the cuffs as if his lives depends on it. Stubborn by nature—You didn’t mind it at all as you could do this all day. Increasing the speed of the toy that wraps around the head of his reddening cock, he yearns to let go though not with the cock ring hugging his shaft tightly. Entertained, is what you feel—watching the way he gritted his teeth with his eyes shut, eyebrows scrunched together either in pain for he couldn’t shoot everything he’s got or pleasure for little did both of you know that your beloved secretly enjoys this.

“Ugh.” You grunted, straddling his face—aiming your glistening cunt, who is dying for the touch of his tongue or his hands, towards his face. He sensed you, slowly he opens his eyes as he couldn’t help but let out such a slutty moan coming from a man. His visions are welcomed by your hands aggressively rubbing your slippery cunt, playing with your clit. Your hands coated with your own fluid.

“Just, give in. Baby, I’ll put this around your needy cock and fuck you like our life depends on it.” You purred. He grunted, his cock throbs even more if that’s possible, longing for your tight cunt sucking his cum to come out and fill you.

“All of this would be easier if you’d just give in.” You breathlessly spoke, your hands never stop playing with your cunt throughout the whole promises that you sell. His body never stopped producing sweats, his chest heaves, his heart thumps like a big fat bass. A smirk expressed on your face, he’s bargaining with his willpower to give into you than holding onto his pride. Tiny bits of sweats formed against his forehead, his whole figure soaking wet as if he received a wave from the ocean.

You pulled yourself away from him, straddling his chest—leaning down towards his face stopping just an inch from his lips, your eyes watching over him. Tilting your head to the side before you look over at his pulsating cock, who looks like he could be coming in just a few seconds.

“Come on, admit it. Admit that I’m right, and you’re wrong. You’re a selfish human being who wouldn’t want to listen to his wife who practically begged you to stop acting if there’s a porn script.” The words spoken out of you intended to coax him, sounded so delicate yet you were trying to spit at him. Surprised as you watched a tear escaped from his closed eyes, his breathing turned ragged, his chest heaves even more, lips tremble.

The man of action is crying.

“Aw, you’re crying?” You purred, slowly making your way down towards his hips. “You’re fucking crying?” By the end of your words, he is practically sobbing.

You breathily laughs before you turned off the toy on his cock, and take out the cock ring. Once both objects are off of his precious cargo, he lets out a big sigh of relief only to be quickly exchanged with a loud moan from his mouth when you harshly shove his cock into your warm cunt.

He opens his eyes to find your ass in his vision, as you ride him cowgirl reverse style. You take a look at him from your shoulders before you started to move your hips to bounce on his throbbing fat cock. You knew this shouldn’t take long as you’ve been edging him for 30 minutes. You knew, sooner or later he would spill his warm seed in your cunt.

“Tell me honey, are you sorry? If you are, I’m gonna let you cum in my pussy.”

He grunted, his whole body shudders to the thought of making a mess in your pussy. “Fuck! Yes! Yes! I’m sorry, it’s my fault! I shouldn’t be touching her other than you! Please baby, let me cum. Fuck, let me fucking cum please!”

You let out a scoff laugh, “You wanna cum baby? You wanna cum on my pussy?”

“Yes! Fuck, I’m gonna-” And before he could spill his load inside of you, you lifted your ass—made his cock fell out of your pussy hole. He choked out a breath, his body launching forward, his eyes opened wide in surprise.

You smirked, looking at him from your shoulders. Clicking your tongue, your head shook from side to side as you turn your body towards him.

“Oh honey, bad boys don’t get to cum in their wives pussy.”

#free characters one shot #tom cruise smut #henry cavill smut #chris evans smut #sebastian stan smut #pedro pascal smut #andrew garfield smut #tom hardy smut #christian bale smut #keanu reeves smut #glen powell smut #miles teller smut #brad pitt smut #tom hiddleston smut

[beansricejc]

juices like wine

werewolf!john wick x f!reader

synopsis: on a full moon’s night, you think you’ll be safe in this house alone with your fellow monster hunter.

warnings: monster!jw, cursing, pussy drunk activities, oral (f receiving), squirting, sniffing, watered down spec of masochism, dbf!john, age gap, dub con(?)

authors note: thx for all of ur messages, life is just too much rn and I’m attempting to keep up haha, here’s that spooky thing I promised

“Uh, are you sure this will-“

“Of course it will!” I rolled my eyes, tightening the cuffs on the iron cuffs on John’s wrists. “My dad’s book says that werewolves can’t break through iron. And his book is never wrong.”

John flashed me a skeptical look with his eyebrows raised before rolling those thin brown eyes. Hunting monsters has always been our side gig. Although, things became a little tricky when he had accidentally been bitten by a now dead furry friend, almost a month ago now. Tonight was the full moon, and there haven’t been any side effects but John insisted on taking no chances.

My partner in crime sighed, grunting a bit with discomfort as the iron restraints dig into his flesh a little.

“It better not be wrong. I won’t be able to forgive myself if something happened.”

My hand grabs his bearded and chiseled face, forcing John to give me his attention. There’s always been… tension, between the two of us. Yet neither have acted on it. He was my dad’s best friend after all, before my dad became vampire food on a job gone awry.

“Nothing is gonna happen.” I reassured him, my fingers squeezing his face a bit harder this time. John nods to himself, taking a few deep breaths. “It’s only for a night. Hell, I can just turn The Office on for you while you’re in here.”

Light hearted humor got me nowhere tonight. I’m an idiot. A fool. A fucking moron. That’s what I’m telling myself as I creep through the house on the second floor. A silver dagger in one hand, a phone in the other, with Charon on the other line, the closest Hunter in proximity to us in the state.

“His senses are better, he’s faster, stronger, you need to get out of there or just kill him.” Charon pleads. I grunt quietly.

“I can’t leave-“

A loud and bone rattling howl bounces off of the walls of the house, startling me. I froze in my tracks, cursing under my breath. I hang up the phone and slip it into the pocket of my leggings.

“You smell even better during a full moon.”

My breathing stops as I feel the breath of another behind me. I know damn well who that person is, his voice is much deeper and gravelly than normal, this isn’t him. This isn’t the John I know.

A yelp escaped my lips as two paw-like hands grab me from behind, tossing me over a huge shoulder. John’s shirt is mostly ripped all the way off, since his transformation took place under just a simple tee shirt and flannel pants.

“John! Put me down!” I shouted, legs thrashing as my fists beat at his huge back. Thud, thud, thud, it did nothing. I hadn’t even noticed that John had tossed the silver blade aside until I had tried to use it.

A deep throaty chuckle erupts from John’s mouth, right before he tossed me onto the bed of the master bedroom. I land on silken sheets as my eyes widen, experiencing John as half man, half wolf, for the first time. Fangs peek from his lips as his beard had become much more untamed and wild, even his hair is much longer and crazy.

Muscles bulge from his shirt, before he gets frustrated and rips it off with an irritated roar. The shreds of the fabric land on the wood floor, as his evolved muscles ripple over my cowering form on the king sized bed.

“Such a pretty girl. I’ve always known better than to have a piece of you to myself.” John speaks lowly, his red eyes linger over me. “But I can’t control myself tonight. I’m sorry sweetpea.”

“Wait, John, just, wait!” I know damn well it’s to no avail. His paws grab my thighs and push my legs to the mattress, as his nose buries itself in my clothed crotch. Frowning, I scream in objection but my squirming and resistance is futile. I can’t even beat John while we spar, of course I won’t even have a chance while he’s half man, half creature.

“Fuck, you’re ovulating.” John salivates and takes in a deep breath to get the scent of my cunt imbedded into his feral brain. With one tiny motion of his razor sharp claws, despite my avid protests, he sliced the crotch of my leggings open like butter.

“Hey hey hey! No! John, this can’t happen!” I stammer out quickly. John is far too heavy and I don’t stand a chance.

“Don’t worry. My cock is too big to give you right now.” John insists, dropping his pajama pants and tugging on his huge erection. It matches his insanely big body, one that I’m just realizing has been growing larger and larger ever since he began his chase.

My jaw dropped as I notice he’s got to be at least seven feet tall now, with a cock that’s about 10 inches long, but 4 inches wide. John seriously had a comically large and furry dick at the moment, and I had no idea if I should have laughed or just stayed quiet. So I picked the latter.

John drops to his knees, as both of his hands spread my thighs even further, taking a longer inhalation of the heat between them. Squirming under him, I couldn’t help but whimper and whine out of the pure tickling sensation. The feeling of his beard and nose on my folds were unfamiliar to say the least.

“John, get o-“

I stop talking and let out a moan as his big nose brushes against my clit. His long spongy tongue swiped efficiently on my folds, making them pliable enough to then plunge in a finger.

John let’s go of my thigh for half a second so he can shred apart my sleeping shirt, my tits falling out of the fabric. My nipples harden from the sudden air exposure. John growls against my cunt in response to that sinful visual. One of his paws smack my left breast, earning a gasp from me, while his tongue worked overtime inside of me.

Head like this only existed in porn, right?

Apparently not. Apparently, you can get head like this from your local werewolf.

My fingers dug at the bedsheets and also his head of messy long hair. My fingers even brush against his newly grown canine-like ears, I keep forgetting that this is only happening because John has turned. That meant, he was eating my pussy and needing to inhale my scent on pure instinct. If he doesn’t, he’d go insane. He’d lose control. Maybe even kill someone.

The mere thought of my vagina actually being the death of someone kinda has me in a chokehold at the moment.

“Mine. Mine. Mine.”

John continued to lick, suck, thrust, whatever he could to with his tongue to get my taste and scent locked into his memory. He’s even so desperate that he has managed to scratch up my thighs and stomach in the process. The cuts aren’t anything too deep, maybe a bit more than a cat claw. But I’d be in denial if I claimed the slight sting of his nails and there euphoric head I was receiving wasn’t a delectable combination.

A knot forms in my lower region, an unusual feeling. Not like an orgasm, no, this was something else entirely. I had no idea what to expect, but it sure as hell was shocking when I began to squirt all over John’s bearded face.

My cum splashed onto his cheeks and nose, even a bit of his forehead. The dribbles from my pussy coat his unkempt beard, and he catches his breath with an exhausted smile when he pulls away.

With my legs trembling and moans spilling from my mouth, I laid under his beastly frame, helpless. Exposed to my elder Hunter, it was a shock to see him as some vicious monster. My heart was nearly about to give out from the intensity of the orgasm, and from the pure shock I was still trying to comprehend.

While he collected my juices from his face and sucked them off of his fingers, my mind is racing as I wonder, is he even going to remember this tomorrow? When he shifts back, is it going to be awkward between us from now on? There’s no way he actually felt so strongly for me… right?

If he didn’t recall eating me out like it was his last day on earth, how am I going to drop that bomb? John’s hands grab my face, much like how I had a few hours earlier. His moist nose and forehead press against mine, smushing in a little. My own juices smear against my small face. John’s red eyes demand my full attention from mere centimeters away.

That same rough voice gives me a growling chuckle.

“Been waiting three years for that one, babygirl. Maybe now you’ll notice me.”

#john wick one shot #john wick #jw #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #keanu reeves #john wick imagine #keanu #spooktober #spooky fic #kinktober

[twistedbloodstain]

vincent de gramont x assistant!reader: if my wishes came true it would've been you | a glimpse of the marquis.

plot: the one where the marquis isn’t so sure about you.

warnings: stalking, slight mention of violence, more stalking, staring, soft ooc marquis, invasion of privacy

masterlist

vincent de gramont. the marquis. unforgiving. determined. capable.

he is a man that exudes power by simply waving his hand or by the snap of his fingers. he does not need anyone. not when he has all the power and influence of an entire country. all he needs is himself, no one else. people are a liability, because of what we can feel for them. the moment you let them in. you start to do things that you shouldn’t, but you do it anyway for the mercurial high of their company. but in fact they don’t bring you up, they bring you down. of course, the marquis doesn’t do such practices, he can’t risk such vulnerability, if he is vulnerable then he is weak and the world be fucking damned before he let’s what he feel for someone tear him down.

a pessimist mindset. yes but why does it matter? he can’t even name someone who cares for him, at least someone who isn’t paid to do it. they don’t want his company, they want his money and power that he exercises over this world. the men want his coin and the women want the same or a night of pleasure, he might welcome that invitation if he isn’t busy enough.

there are three kinds of people in the world. those who have something to live for, those who have something to die for, and those who have something to kill for.

“oh, oh…poor vincent de gramont. who would search for him if he went missing? who would mourn his rotting corpse as it’s buried six feet underground?”

a mockery and threat of a rising drug lord when he had refused the terms of a deal. it annoyed him, as much as he didn’t expect it to get into his head. because why would he need to have that? soon he had the fool’s tongue pulled out by one of his men, he doesn’t let such insignificant things occupy his mind. but to answer his question there is one who would.

his assistant. that’s who, mildly amused with that thought. if i paid her more than enough my procession would be like the queen of fucking england. ironically, because his assistant falls into the three kinds of people and wants his money. at least she actually works for it. for once, the wages he’d given were actually worth her value, they weigh the same in a scale and he doesn’t feel forced to pay her that much because she gets the job done with exquisiteness.

when he’d first hired her, he thought she might be too good to be true. either she was a bragging and incompetent woman or a vying fusspot whose words are truthful. he doesn’t mind a perfectionist as long as she gets the job done. however good she might portray her character to him, he was still cautious around her.

this could be a calculated spy sent out take everything from me. if so, she might as well bloody think again. no one can rob me of what’s mine.

possible threats imagined or real must be carefully and quickly dealt with. so the first two months she works for him, he keeps his eyes on her. he has her followed to her home, which isn’t so bad but not really to his taste. but since she rarely gets home to manage personal matters with the endless pile of work he’s tasked her with there’s not much to be reported to him. just the mundane life of his assistant and her cat. he also has her background checked and it’s nothing malicious, truly just someone whose motives are sincere and harmless.

but it’s not enough. there has to be something. when she isn’t in her home, she’s in his mansion. the lavish and spacious place that always seems to awe her.

2:00 AM

a pair of guards open the large decorated chunky door for him, he struts through. quite exhausted from his previous affair that took several hours, something about an assassin getting out of the fold. he checks his watch and a slight scowl appears on his face, annoyed that meeting has taken too long for a good night’s sleep. he had a big day tomorrow, hordes of meetings and an opera in the afternoon. he’ll have to get up early if he wants to witness the entire spectacle.

“bring the car tomorrow around 6 AM and move the meeting with Allaire around-” vincent orders but pauses when he realizes the click of your heels were no longer heard in his ears.

he turns around and sees you motionless. you were occupied with gazing at the new painting that had arrived earlier that morning. he could sense the gears in your head turning, taking in the artistic beauty of the masterpiece. he wonders if just like him you appreciate historic works of art that preside in The Louvre or perhaps you like a more architect approach-

christ. what is he thinking, he’s not even sure of who they are and he’s interested in a pastime she might have? he swallows that thought down and buries it behind his mind.

by the sudden snap of his fingers, he snaps you out of your gaze. you face him rattled and a slight worry occupies your face when you realize you’ve been caught slacking.

“i’m so sorry sir. that won’t happen again, what time did you want the car brought?” you immediately apologize, saving your excuses from him. still bashful from the ogling you’ve done, you don’t meet his stare.

he knows you’re just as tired as him, you’ve been stuck with him for the entire day, organizing his schedule and arranging appointments. he decides to not chastise her for the momentary indolence and let it pass. although he is partly pleased you still try to keep your wits sharp and alert. christ, what in the world is he saying? it must be the lack of sleep, yes that’s it.

“bring the car tomorrow around 6 AM and move the meeting with Allaire around 7:30 AM. lastly, get up early. i have an important matter for you to attend to.” vincent says again, much more firmly this time with a harsh tone, a slightly futile attempt since his voice partly falls flat from fatigue.

“yes sir.” you answer straight away, jotting down what he just said into that little purple notebook.

he turns away from you and walks away to his room.

he has her spied in the mansion. every movement she makes in his home is reported by the guards and staff. rather unfortunate with the latter, since you’ve grown close with some of the staff and half of them inform you of your activities. what they’d reported was not what he was looking for. just filled with casual personal stuff and ventures he’d ordered you to do.

with all that extensive efforts settled, he feels somewhat assured that she won’t turn against him. now he just needs to keep her on his side, and to sense any form of betrayal that might cook while she’s in his employ. he instructs his men to halt from following her home but still let’s the staff inform him of her bustle from time to time. how does he keep her on his side? pressure and observation.

he gives her labors that are sometimes beyond her pay grade and leaves her alone to do it. it confounds her, very much. they both know this is not what they’d agreed to but surprise, surprise. she delivers as ordered, little to no flaws. he observes her reactions, to see if a recipe of hatred was cooking in the cauldron.

he keeps his eyes on you. the both of you just got out from a meeting with a drug lord that had rather difficult terms and conditions he wouldn’t agree to but he entertained them nonetheless for the sake of testing you. since the job fell on you to deliver those terms and conditions.

you keep writing down notes on that journal, he reads some of what you’ve written which are familiar to him.

“huh. still not faltering are you? i wonder when you might raise this matter.” he thought.

your posture is not as perfect as it had been when you greeted him earlier in the morning. the late night seems enough explanation for that. the inside of the car is quiet except for the engine of the car and the rustling of your pencil on paper.

ever since he started giving them to you he hadn’t heard a word of complaint. he’s not really sure what he expected. a bitch fit about how you can’t do it? a conversation about raising your salary? a rant about how he’s being unfair? he’s dubious about the result he was searching for but he should know. he is the marquis. everything must have a reason, had he expected all three so he might have a reason to fire you? maybe. but why would he fire you? you’ve proven yourself capable and competitive. there is almost no one to your like, only a fool would do that. why does he want to get rid of you for no reason?

perhaps it’s because of what you do for him. he knows you’re in it for the money but…but that unwavering loyalty you’ve offered up to him. does it mean more? or is it just something he’s paying for? an even exchange for the both of you. god, prostitutes seemed easier to handle than this, at least with them he knew their motives but with you…he can’t. you’re background is as pristine as water and everything you’ve done is to further his power. what had he done to deserve it? maybe it is true, maybe. there is no amount of money that can give that level of loyalty, even his highest paid employees and previous assistants weren’t even that good. oh, why? why,why,why,why-

why do you look at him as if he’s the rarest thing on earth? why do you follow him blindly with no hesitation? why do you listen to his words clinging to them as if it’s good as gospel?

he snaps out of his inner turmoil and notices that you’ve looked up at him. you’ve caught him staring, he’s slightly abashed because he’d been vulnerable with himself for a moment, and it’s because of you. for a minute he thought you might’ve been genuine to him, that everything you do is because you want to, not for any materialistic gain. he doesn’t show his disappointment. he keeps his face plain and cold and turns away from you, facing the window. he can see the glass pyramid from The Louvre, his mind begins to drift.

you gullible fool, there is no one in this world that can give you that. you know this-you know this. why do you still yearn for that? there are three kinds of people in the world. those who have something to live for, those who have something to die for, and those who have something to kill for and you are not one of them. no matter how much you want it you cannot be one of them. you are the marquis. you are the marquis. you must be untouchable. what you feel cannot be weaponized against you. do you understand? she does not feel anything for you. there is nothing but you and yourself. in the long run, she won’t matter. when you’ve grown more powerful than today what she’s given to you will be nothing but specks of dust.

that’s how he viewed you. after those two months, he treats you the same with no efforts that may seem arbitrary an attempt to veil what he’s felt for you. keeping it professional you might say, he screws it through his head, that he doesn’t matter to you, that it doesn’t mean more.

one day it changes.

almost two years after that car ride to The Louvre.

you take a bullet for him.

but you take much more than that.

author’s note: welp, that’s part three! i found it difficult to choose which pov for part two, idk if I should keep the marquis’ thoughts ambiguous or just throw this in. I had this dilemma in class and decided to go for reader’s pov, it turned out nice anyways feel free to share your thoughts!

taglist: @dcgoddess @1mawh0re @davvydobrik

part one part two part four part five

#vincent de gramont #marquis de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont x reader #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #one shot #john wick #john wick 4 #keanu reeves #fanfic #obsessive #yandere #bill skarsgard gif #bill skarsgard imagine

[howlsofter]

The Club

John Wick one shot of a quickie in the the club, literally so short just wanted to put some writing up

——————

His cock as deep inside of me as it would go, I was pressed up against the club wall. Ass up against John who was curled over me, his head in the crook of my neck and hand wrapped around to touch me. He rubbed in small circles as I stuttered over him, I could feel his tip as far in as he could go, resting against my cervix.

He readjusted against me, with every small shift he pumped everywhere sensitive and I cried out lowly. I was getting closer off his fingers, holding my breath. I heard his slip in a groan.

“I’m so-“ I huff out softly, John sits up to look before gripping my hips with his other hand. He rocks into me in the smallest movements, speeding up until I was melting back against him.

“Do it, baby, no one’s coming,” he assured me, gruff and uptight. He was holding me tight in position no matter how much I fought him while I came undone. He angled into me a few times as I came, I ground against him and huffed, tightening around him until he was pinning me up against the wall. He moved his hand from where he was getting me off to hold my waist over my dress, his other hand already on my hip there as he pushed deep inside of me and filled me up with every flinch.

“Fuck,” I breathe out, my throat was dry from my silent screams. He pulls out of me quickly, tucking himself back up and turning me around all in a few swift movements. He open mouth kisses me and I lazily respond, humming and arching into where he held me against the wall.

A man shuffled by, the first in our whole time there and John stifles a laugh. “Let’s go home?” He suggests, my legs are absolutely weak beneath me.

“Let me use the bathroom first,” I nod, still not easing off of him.

“Don’t,” he wraps an arm around my waist and I lean against him to stand up, the panties he’d pushed to the side catching what was already spilling, “stay a mess.”

#john wick smut #john wick #keanu reeves #John wick 4 #john wick x y/n #john wick x reader #one shot #public

[glassesmcfancyhair]

Ok, so, it’s not about manufacturing the affection between Benedick and Beatrice, it’s about exposing their already existing affection and giving them permission to be vulnerable with each other.

#much ado about nothing #things are heating up in the Shakespeare fandom #kenneth branagh #Branagh version #guys this movie has Denzel Washington Keanue Reeves and Kate Beckinsale #denzel washington #keanu reeves #kate beckinsale #michael keaton #emma thompson #listen Benedick and Beatrice both think they took their shot with the other one and got shot down #they literally had a massive miscommunication while flirting prove me wrong #and then their intense weirdo feelings wouldn’t let them do anything but snipe at the other #oh nothing just thinking about that scene where they know Benedick is listening #so Sean Leonard Scott gets to be extra dramatic #and it’s just like Benedick you fucking dumbass #you absolute moron #yeah sure they believe that your indignant cries are birds #did you just become stupid

[sillyredconverse]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN KEANU REEVES IS GOING TO PLAY SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG IN THE SONIC THE HEDGEHOG 3 MOVIE BEING RELEASED ON DECEMBER 20TH 2024

WHAT DO YOU MEANNN?!?????

#Omg I'm so stoked for this now #And they're gonna explore shadows canon backstory #In detail??? #And Jim Carrey is coming back #And Maria is gonna get shot on screen #AND we get the new game in August with BLACK DOOM #IM GOING INSANE #me and my ugly shadow the hedgehog plush rolling into the theatre on December 20th #Can you tell that I like the sth series #Sobbing #Screaming #Crying #What do you mean John Wick himself is playing SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG #sonic the hedgehog 3 #shadow the hedgehog #keanu reeves #One immortal playing another immortal #Jumping up and down rn #I think this is the most amount of tags I've put on a post

[imbadnatured]

can someone PLEASEEEE post some fic or one-shot about John Wick or Keanu Reeves

i need something good in my life



#john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves #john wick #john wick x y/n #john wick fanfic #john wick oneshot #john wick one shot #keanu reeves imagine

[arece]

Reader dies instead of John fucking load on the angst

Remember Me

♤ Summary: What if you died instead?

♤ a/n: THIS ISN'T CANNON!!! A what if that I personally think is even more painful than the original. I find it concerning how I find angst so much easier to write. This is a long one (2.2k) The masterlist

♤ Warnings: ANGST! John Wick violence, death.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

“Please, stop this.”

“I can’t.”

***

You begged him, followed him, did everything you could to try and stop him from doing this but it didn’t matter. Forever stubborn, a trait you no doubt got from him. Many mannerisms you had came from John. From the glower you do unconsciously to your dry humor.

But that all didn’t matter, not anymore. John had a plan, one where he might not make it out alive but the Marquis would go down with him, one where you’d be free in a way he was never able to attain. This was for you, he’d do anything for you.

“Fire!” He shoots just as Caine does. They both miss. He hears your whimper from beside Winston and it takes everything in him not to flinch back from the sound. He can feel the blood dripping down from the graze on his arm, a patch of red blooming from his white shirt. 

The Harbinger calls them back twenty paces. He takes a breath, a quick glance to see the almost agonizing worry painted on your face. For you. “Fire!” It felt much faster this time, it was. It had to be realistic, like they were planning to kill each other.

The growing pain in his left shoulder knocks him back a step but otherwise he doesn’t react. Caine grunts, slightly hunched over and holding at his side. Painful yet not fatal, they took another ten paces and it was time.

“Those who cling to death, live.” A bittersweet truth he clung to until there was you. Caine gives a barely visible nod, “Those who cling to life, die.”

“Fire!”

The shot to his stomach winds him to the point he falls to his knees. It won’t kill him, a few inches upwards and would have, he wouldn’t reveal that just yet. You cry out and Winston nearly has to hold you back. He has to close his eyes, tempted to tell you he was fine but he can’t show his hand. He wasn’t done yet, he had to win.

“¡Alto!” Vincent eagerly calls out. I claim the last shot.” He grabs a bullet before storming up to Caine with a sick sort of glee. “Your weapon, give it to me,” he demands, holding his hand out. “Is my daughter free now?” He carefully asks.

Caine’s part of the deal is fulfilled, he and his daughter were now free like you’d both soon be. “Oui. You and your daughter, enjoy.” He rips the gun from Caine and quickly reloads it. “You lose,” he confidently calls out before being cut off by Winston’s mocking laugh.

“You arrogant asshole. He didn’t shoot.” Vincent snaps over to John but it’s already too late. “Consequences,” he spitefully said before shooting him straight in the head. It was all over, he finally ended it all.

You’d be safe, he could be with you, that is if you forgave him for leaving you behind. He was aware it was his fault, that it was something he should’ve never done, but at the time he felt it was the only thing he could do to keep you safe. After two years, he finally got you back.

“John,” a soft whimper behind him. He looks up to see you holding your stomach, a few inches upwards. The Marquis’ gun went off, hitting you as collateral. You nearly fell back until Winston grabbed ahold of you.

Caine stepped back, The Harbinger leaving, it was not the time to finalize the terms. “No.” John feels nearly hysterical as he clumsily makes his way to you, dragging you from Winston into his arms. It felt like he wasn’t even there, this wasn’t real.

He pushes down on your wound, desperate for it to go away. You cry out from the pain, “I know, I know. I got you, kid.” Winston has to turn away, tearing up at the sight of just how fragile you looked.

John felt himself growing frantic, nearly losing himself already at the idea of losing you. He tries to gather you into his arms, just like that time you were sick. Just like that time, you’d be fine. He was overreacting, the Doctor would tell him it’s something minor. It won’t be like his Helen.

But you stop him, crying quietly now as you hold tightly to his hand on your stomach, “you’re free now?” You ask in an uncharacteristically small voice that has him nearly sobbing. “Yeah,” he brushes your hair back just like every time he’s done before.

It was foolish, you know, but you just wanted him to comfort you one last time, “you’re not going anywhere?” John slightly chokes, pulling you closer, as if holding you to him and refusing to let you go would keep you here. “You and me, kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I missed you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you cuddled into him like you did whenever you had a nightmare. It was almost enough to convince John that’s what this was, you were just sleeping. But the lack of your chest rising and the soothing sound of your breaths had him finally breaking down.

No matter how hard he tried to do right by you he failed, every time. He did all of this to save you, left you for two years to protect you, reunited with you, only for you to die. You had begged him to stop, gave him so many opportunities to put down his gun and just live for you and he refused. His never ending need for revenge killed you, he killed you.

The background was a blur, he couldn’t hear anything, focused on solely rocking you back and forth, pushing your hair back every time it fell into your face. He ignored the blood he smeared on your face as he brought your head closer - your blood - and kissed your head softly.

You. His daughter, his kid, his baby. He missed you too, there was never a moment he didn’t, even now he missed you more than anything. Winston tried to step closed and he held out your knife threateningly. He didn't care, no one got near you right now except for him.

“Johnathan,” He calls out softly, red rimmed eyes of his own. “The first time I saw her in two years and she’s already gone.” He didn’t bother looking up, trailing a finger over your cheek that was already growing cold.

“I missed so much and it’s my own fault,” he glances up at Winston, “I’ll never get that time back.” He gathered you close and stood, he was going to bring you home and you were never going to leave again.

He nods for his jacket and Winston drapes it over you, covering your fatal wound just like he wanted. You were sleeping. It hit him suddenly that he never told you he loved you and it was almost enough to send him back to the ground.

He should’ve just done what you had asked, whatever you wanted. He held you securely with Winston by his side, both ready to bring you back. 

***

(y/n) Wick

Loving daughter

“You and me, kid.”

Something you’d probably scoff at but it felt right. Dog refused to move from your grave and John had half the mind to stay with her. Even the Bowery King had shed a few tears, having to leave soon after due to not being able to handle the emotions.

“Always said he was dramatic,” he could almost swear he heard you say. You were next to Helen, a little family he wanted to join. He didn’t know what to do without you, lost in a way he’s never been before.

Losing a child is a pain you never get over, a gaping hole that never fills. He was angry but had no one left to blame, no enemies to kill. For once, John was forced to sit and deal with his grief and god if it wasn’t the most painful thing he’s ever felt.

He carried so much guilt and regret for what happened between you, so many mistakes he’d never be able to go back and fix. Winston’s reassurance of how much you had loved him didn’t help.

You admired and loved a monster, both John Wick and the Baba Yaga. It had gotten you killed. Everything John Wick loves dies. You were doomed from the moment he accepted that coin, the moment he placed his jacket over you in that car and decided he would do anything for you.

He felt that he cried out everything he had left, numb besides the anger he held towards himself. This was his own doing. Eventually he forced himself and Dog to go to your apartment, the place you lived when John forced you out of your home.

It felt empty - lonely. It was enough to break his heart all over again, he drove you to this. He collected the few photos of yourself in the apartment, his own only of your younger years. He couldn’t stand the thought of the last image he had of you being older was dying in his arms.

 As he brushed over your belongings he came across a small box. He opened it to see a bunch of folded up papers held down by a gold coin. A gold coin he recognized, the coin that led him to you, to your death. He picked it up and was tempted to throw it away before pocketing it. He’d keep any part of you he could get, even if it reminded him of his mistakes.

He picked up one of the folded papers; a letter dated back to a few days after he left you. 

John,

I don’t think I could ever forgive you. I trusted you. 

I never believed that I could belong anywhere, everyone seemed to leave eventually.

I knew that day would come with you, I just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

He swallowed, skimming through the letters, varying emotions of resentment, hurt, and confusion in each. It was painful, but one John wholeheartedly deserved. He may have been what you wanted but he wasn’t what you deserved, you deserved more.

He reached the last letter in the pile, it was written just a week before you hunted him down, a week and a few days before you died.

John,

I think I get it now. Though it doesn’t make it hurt less, I at least know now that you did care. You wanted me to be safe but what you seemed to never understand is that I felt safest with you.

All I wanted was you. I’ll always carry that hurt for the potential what could’ve been but I can cherish the time we did have together, when I had someone who cared for me so deeply.

I hunted down the Continental Doctor to trade for that coin you gave him - something to remember you by - and he gave it to me for free. I think he understood.

Everyone seemed to do that better than us. We always struggled to actually talk to each other, resorting to desperate actions. Maybe that’s what led us here today.

I hope you find that peace and freedom you always longed for, the kind you couldn’t get with me. That’s part of the reason I think we would’ve never worked, all I brought was chaos and pain, something you never needed more of, what you were trying to escape. For that I’m sorry.

Now, I’ll try to fix our mistakes, learn from them and speak openly. I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to send these to you but if you do find them I hope you know that I love you. 

I love you and thank you for being the dad I never got. Even if it was for a short time.

Love,

Your daughter.

John fell down onto your chair, crying so hard he couldn’t make out the words on the letter. He held it away from him, scared he’d stain it with his tears.

You got to heal but for the wrong reasons, without his apology and the full knowledge of his love for you. You were right, you both struggled with words and he should’ve tried harder. You always struggled feeling like you belonged and he didn’t do enough to reassure you.

He wished he could’ve told you just how much he cared for you, how much he loves you. How he’s sorry.

***

Although no matter what happened next it would never be fully happy; but if John were able to heal the slightest bit, accept, and move on, it would’ve been better. Though that’s never how John worked. He solely relied on his anger, looking for someone to blame, looking for a fight. Something he knew how to do.

He chose to direct his anger towards the entire High Table, to wipe them all out. Winston tried to fight him on this, convince him that it wouldn’t be what you wanted. But you weren’t here and you were gone because of the High Table and him. Either way they’d both go down for taking you away.

A suicide mission. But what else was there left to live for? He lost all that brought meaning to his life, he killed it, watched as it slipped through his fingers, helpless to stop it all. Helen, and now you.

He didn’t believe in much anymore but he hoped, hoped that when he did finally get to rest, it’d be with you.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight  @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01

#john wick father figure #platonic #john wick #john wick x fem!reader #john wick x you #john wick x reader #fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #fem reader #arece drabbles #john wick one shot #john wick imagine #john wick 4 #john wick chapter 4 #john wick spoilers #keanu reeves one shot #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves

[catboygirljoker]

the john wick creative team high fiving each other over another slam dunk box office success with 3 and then realizing they now have to CGI out an entire finger of their lead who uses his hands in every single fight scene

#keanuposting #john wick #even at the end of 3 the stump seemed to change shape fro shot to shot and even moment to moment #ive only watched the trailer for 4 once and i was too distracted by how poor keanu reeves has been given twice the dialogue #and half the direction for this one #TO BE CLEAR. i love these movies and i love john wick mwah mwah

[wiinterz]

once lost, now found | john wick

pairing: john wick x black plus size fem!reader

genre: established relationship, one-shot

warnings: canon!john, typical violence, kidnapped!reader, physical violence, character death, angst, fluff

word count: 1.5k

summary: being in the crossfire of john’s old life, there’s a realization that he’ll always pick you over anything and anyone in his life; himself included.

☏ ᴛᴀʏ’s ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛs: old one-shot!

recs | taglist | help hub | keanu reeves m.list

PATTERS OF RAIN HIT against a tin can that was laid on a concrete slab. The moon’s crescent-shaped the city into one walking circle. And street lights flickered as sounds of drunks, cars, and sobers moved around to find somewhere they could call home.

Chestnut-colored eyes peeked at a nearby building, white paint completely blocked out with graffiti, and cigarettes crushed up and tossed on the floor. Feeling your tired body being dragged to the empty building, your stomach turns as your bottom eyelashes catch your slipping tears, making sure they stayed on your waterline as the peculiar man had closed your mouth with tape. Your hands and legs were roped up, your body resting on the stranger’s left shoulder as he grumbled about your man, John. 

Hearing his grating voice complain about John, and how stupid he is to have a woman knowing his job takes anything pure from him. Your chest raises high and fast, trying to keep yourself from freaking out as he places your body down on a metal chair, the coldness of the metal shocks your body, making you whimper. 

He makes a hoarse laugh, pulling the tape off your mouth as he stuffs a shirt in your mouth, forcing you to gag on it.

He pushed your chair against a metal table, sitting beside you as he picks up a bottle of water and drink it.

“Ora aspettiamo The Babayaga.” He lets out another laugh, sighing to himself as he drinks the water, his watch ticking for a show.

John was in the middle of slicing a man’s arm off in a closed clothing store, the lights still on as dead bodies piled up around him. The more he killed, the more they ran to him, only to be shot down by his gun. 

Anger riled his soul, hurt taking over in his eyes as his mind replayed the screams that left your mouth. He wondered how did you slip away from him in such little time?

Killing the last man as he placed a sword against his neck and his gun behind it, John shoots and pulls the sword back, watching the man fall to the floor, face hitting against someone’s dead body.

John’s hair was now messed up and wet with sweat and blood, his face had tiny splatters, some so close to his eye as his blue t-shirt and black pants became stained permanently. He had lots of wounds on him, the back of his shirt slightly ripped showing a large diagonal cut on him.

Picking up another gun, he checks to make sure there was enough ammo in it. Once he walks out of the shop, he grunts, feeling like he lost a huge part of himself and dignity as the night prolongs.

He could only think back to you, worrying if you were in pain, if you were bruised or cut up. He could only imagine what he would do if he saw even a little paper cut on you by the man that caused this to happen.

His shoes scrape against the floor, knowing where to go. He knew deep in his heart who caused this, who betrayed his promise.

A groan escapes from his lips, his bloody hands falling to rest on the wall before he walks into the empty building. He stands there for a moment, regaining his strength and energy.

Once he breathes out heavily, John’s eyes ignite with despise as he hears a muffled laugh.

Making his way in, he pushes a door open down the long hallway, seeing a dim light create the ability to see. His heart stops in seconds, breath caught in his mouth as your eyelash lets a tear escape like a leaf letting a raindrop hit to another leaf.

There he stood, the man you fell in love with for a lifetime and more. He held a gun under his arm, his eyes soften at the sight of you. Your hair is a mess, your mouth is forced to bite against the shirt, and you sitting patiently and scared. 

He then looks at the man that sat beside you, looking at his expensive silver watch with gold in the middle. Silver-fox short hair, with skin pale as sand, fingernails clipped, his pinky finger long and slim as possible. His lips were light pink and plump and wrinkles appeared under his eyes as he smiled at John.

“So glad you could make it to the family dinner, Wick.” The man announces, a hearty laugh escaping his lips while John rolls his eyes, then looks back at you, motioning his fingers to see if you were okay. You motioned back to him a no, and he sighs.

“Giosuè,” is all he mutters out, keeping himself calm and collected as always as if you didn’t exist in the room. He had to do that, to keep you alive, to see you breathe. A fraction of his heart had been shut down from the death of Helen and the last thing he needed was to see you murdered; something that can be prevented.

Giosuè looks back at you, pushing your chin up a little, forcing you to stare at John while tears continue to fall, trickling to Giosuè’s fingers.

“Pretty girl, sad to see you like this.” He points out, moving his hand away as John squints a little, feeling his heart become slashed. 

“You see, you made a promise…that if and when you come back, I would be the first person to see you. You also promised me the killing of my brother and father, we made that promise when you were leaving home. To go to what? Normalcy? John Wick, The Babayaga…begs to find normalcy in a cold world, that he, made people fear him. Damn.”

Giosuè’s Italian accent comes out, standing from his chair, a gun resting in his back pocket, your eyes widened once you see it, alarming John.

“I’m mad now, because of you and your broken promises, my brother and father…hm whatever, you know the story.” He chuckles, sighing heavily once he finally reaches John, standing in front of him as John’s face stays relaxed, not a smirk, or a sign of worry.

John looks down at Giosuè and scoffs, “And you bring my girlfriend into your family affairs.” His voice showed no emotion, John went into a state you’ve never seen him in.

“She’s a pretty girl, and you know how I am…I like pretty things…I see pretty I take it.” Giosuè looks back at you and tilts his head with a smile. “You crying? John look she’s crying.” He lets out a maniacal laugh as he turns back to John whose eyes pierce your soul.

He had a different type of attitude when it came to your safety, your life before his, forever and always.

“Mmh.” The only thing that slips out from his lips, you continue to cry, trying to believe John will get you out of here safely. His hand pulls out a dart, one of the darts an assassin tried to use on him. Giosuè was too busy mocking you, calling you adorable for becoming hysterical in a situation like this.

John walks up behind Giosuè, the dart held between his index and middle fingers. He held his breath, making mental notes on how Giosuè moved his body.

As a ticking bomb, John’s fingers stifled Giosuè’s neck, the dart pushing into him. In hindsight, John hasn’t been sure if his plan would work out correctly. The only way to know was the outcome, and each ending dealt with you being freed.

Yet as Giosuè abruptly stopped taunting you, his hand quickly goes to behind his neck where John pulls the dart swiftly. Once he sees Giosuè's hand, he shoves the dart back in the middle of it, making Giosuè yell in terror. John then takes out a gun from behind him and shoots his spine, then Giosuè’s knee pit.

Giosuè’s body plummets down to the floor, and a terror of screams leaves his lips. His fingers scrape the floor, trying to crawl to you yet, John shoots him in the head, watching his body jolt a little.

John’s eyes dart back at you and puts up his gun while picking up Giosuè’s. You soaked the t-shirt with your saliva and tears, your dark brown skin bruise with purple and a bit of red from the tight bounds. Making his way to you, his right hand pulls your face up to him, he has tears ready to fall, yet he doesn’t.

His soul had become a cage of his nightmares, banging against his heart each time he saw you. If he could create heaven, he would simply make you the goddess of it. If he had a paint brush he would paint calligraphy and fill empty canvases of you and about you. His heart rang out for you, slipping into your hands and hoping you would restore whatever was taken away from it.

Taking a pocket knife out, John cuts the ropes off you, pulling the t-shirt out of your mouth as you could finally relax your jaw. His thumb comes across your face, catching pretty salts. Your breath pattern started to slowly go back to normal. Feeling his right hand pick up your wrist, he grunts at the makeshift bruises and cuts on your pretty skin.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” He lets out a staggering breath, his voice almost getting caught in his throat. He rubbed your wrists, wrists that had fibers of straw in them. He brings up your right wrist to his lips and kisses it, taking up your other wrist he kisses it up to your shoulder. Looking back at you, his hands immediately wrap around you, holding you tightly as if he relives the time he was told Helen was dying.

You take a moment to wrap your arms around him and when you do, your body is in alarm from the pain that spikes you. You rest your head on his shoulder, allowing your body to be loose on him. Your tears soaked the wounds he earned.

You held onto Johnathan as if you both were at sea, bodies laid on a raft, and the ocean roared throughout the night with tides trying to pull you in a different direction.

John pulls away, looking at you with tears, your weakened hand rests on his cheek. Pulling him closer to you, you press your lips against his, holding him for a moment as your tears intertwine with his.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He repeats, his words getting stronger each time, making you believe it.

You lay your body on him, permitting him to pick you up bridal style. His eyes fixated on yours as his heart beats at the same rate as yours, finally back to normalcy again.

When he went too far he returned to the same man you fell in love with years ago. When you disappeared you came back as the goddess of his dreams, the one that lit the candles in his heart when they left.

John found his normalcy once again and this time, he promised to not fail like the last.

#john wick #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #john wick x y/n #john wick franchise #john wick angst #john wick fluff #fluff #john wick x black!reader #john wick x reader #x black reader #x black!reader #plus size reader #black!reader #keanuverse #keanu reeves #keanu reeves john wick #jw #keanu reeves imagine #john wick imagine

[beansricejc]

"need him to pull me forcefully onto his lap and ask me where the fuck i think i’m going."

john wick x f!reader ICYMI! note: due to a bit of goofy formatting on my part, this is a reupload from 10/2023. i wasn't able to see any sort of interaction with my one-shot, so if you haven't read it, here it is! pls lmk what you think of my 100 day old baby :') warnings: voyeurism, brief drug use, dubcon(?), exhibitionism, cursing, mean name calling, slut shaming, not proof read!

need him to pull me forcefully onto his lap and ask me where the fuck i think i’m going. - yandere-chan

you don’t ever go to clubs, the only reason why you’re actually here is for a friend’s birthday party. the flashing lights and blaring music were intimidating to begin with, but after popping some sort of chocolate shroom candy, you’re having the time of your life. the way your body is feeling the rhythm of some sort of Billboard Top 100 remix, flowing with the hundreds of other dancers on the floor.

it’s the way your skirt hugs your thighs and ass as you dance is what gets his attention.

john’s here tonight celebrating an old friend’s bachelor party. he’s used to clubs like this. whether it’s for finishing a job or accompanying some sort of high level crime lord for a meeting, he’s quite immune to the vibration of the floor from the huge speakers. he’s unimpressed by the bottle girls that he’s seen come and go over the years, but if someone’s buying, he’ll indulge in a paid blowjob behind a curtain. after helen, he’s given up on romance.

but he’s not exactly known for actually enjoying his night as a regular patron. john’s four whiskeys in, definitely feeling the buzz as his legs are a bit more loose than he’s used to. he’s not on a job. not on duty. fuck it, might as well have fun. this is what he tells himself as he’s nose deep in a line of white powder on a table, his fellow bachelor party members cheering him on in a rowdy manner. the groom himself is getting a lap dance from a bottle girl in their booth behind the curtain, and john takes the opportunity to snap a quick picture of it, just for shits and giggles.

john doesn’t exactly remember how it happened, he just remembers that the woman that he was ogling on the dance floor was now being led behind his group’s curtain. of course this was you, along with a handful of your friends who were also very pretty in their own way. it seemed like the best man of the bachelor party had taken a liking to the birthday girl of your group, and you tagged along for the ride.

he can’t seem to pry his eyes from you. the way you fidget with your soft fingers while your dilated eyes roam across the back room. the way you smile and chat with his buddies as your friends introduce you, john can smell that you’re out of your element. he’s a master at reading body language, it’s part of his job actually. all signs are pointing to that you are quite inebriated, and are clearly not a party girl, despite the fairly convincing front you have on.

you smile politely as you shift your legs. you don’t know why your best friend even followed that guy back here, sometimes you want to smack her for being so stupid. but you’ll smile and bare it for now.

“and this is our buddy, john.” the best man gestures over towards the assassin. of course you don’t know of his profession yet. your shaky eyes drift to his position on the couch. the well dressed middle aged man’s eyes are stuck on you, the way that black skirt looks has him struggling to keep his composure. but he’s a professional, even if he’s not on the job. john has seen and been with his fair share of women.

now he’s picturing in his head of what he’d like to do to you. nothing exactly romantic or gentleman like.

if it weren’t for his own morals, he’d probably stand up and grab you by your pretty little neck. make you gasp for air and tremble under his touch and looming height. john has killed dozens in a single blink of an eye, man handling you and throwing you over the table wouldn’t be an issue. maybe you’d yelp at the feeling of your body being forced down by the dangerous man. maybe you’d even like it. john’s calloused and bruised hands would immediately hike that black skirt up, just to show off your beautifully crafted ass to the entire group of men, and even your friends. maybe you’d plead for him to stop, maybe you’d beg for him to keep going. who knows, perhaps you were a little slut that liked the thought of this happening.

john imagines how the fat of your thighs and ass would feel in his death grip. the strong hold that has strangled the soul’s out of countless adversaries, now grabbing and pawing at your fleshy things before giving you a hard and swift smack on your poor rear. he wonders if you’d struggle or if you’d bite your lip and arch your back. he doesn’t know which response he’d like more.

“it’s nice to meet you.” was the sentence that sucked him out of his head, along with a little smile and wave of your manicured fingers. he notices the polish. a deep burgundy, a vampy color that goes well with the season. so you’re fashionable. he could already tell with the cute outfit that you were donning, but this confirms it. john can appreciate a woman who takes care of herself.

but now there’s an image of those pretty fingers gripping his hard cock, wrapping around the width of his shaft and dragging up and down while a glob of saliva from your plump lips dribbles onto the head. the thought of you licking your lips as your small hand jerks him off, your bare knees earning gorgeous blue and purple bruises from scraping on the marble floor as you do your job oh so well. maybe your teeth would dig into your bottom lip as your eyes would blink up at him, giggling as he moaned out your name.

“come here often?” is what john asks you in return. your head turns to him again and tilts to the side, you didn’t expect the silent and brooding one of the group to ask you a question from the comfort of the velvet couch.

you chuckle and shake your head.

“not at all, actually. it’s my first time here.” you admit, shrugging your well defined shoulders while you peer at him from across the vip booth. you’re still standing in those uncomfortable looking heels, john notes that there are no bruises on your knees. maybe he can change that.

john smiles slightly at your honesty. the way his mouth upturns as his strong looking hands run through his slick back dark hair make your stomach church. you internally curse at yourself, you’ve already had your heart broken by so many men before, and you wouldn’t let this one even get close to trying.

or so you thought.

john’s brown eyes look to your uncomfortable looking feet again, and he situated himself so he’s not totally man spreading on the red couch. his hand then taps the space next to him on the cushion.

“those don’t exactly look pleasant to stand in.” john nods his head towards your heels. you blink in surprise, peering down at your own feet that have been killing you this entire time. so you chuckle and shake your head.

“yeah, doctor scholl probably doesn’t approve of these.” you retort, making john laugh at loud at your statement. you join him on the couch as he’s still chuckling at your expression.

“you’re funny.” john comments, silently noticing the way that damn black skirt rides up your thighs so deliciously as your legs cross. he realizes he’s been caught when those fingers of yours snap in his face, reverting his attention back to your face. john’s face goes a bit red when he sees the scowl you’re giving him, along with a little eye roll.

“oh i’m sure you say that to every woman you want to stick yourself into.” you tell him, there’s a silent agreement between you two that he’s been checking you out this entire time.

john’s shocked by your snarky statement though. he didn’t think he was being that obvious, but on second thought maybe he was. dammit, he was trying to be a smooth criminal with you, only to end up looking like a pervert.

“you sure are confident in yourself, huh?” he sarcastically says back to you. “trust me honey, if I wanted you, you’d know.” he’s forcing himself not to bite his lip at the scent of your perfume, some sort of vanilla cookie type of smell that was lingering in the air between you two. it was going to drive him crazy.

while he says this, you’re busy applying another layer of lip gloss in your compact mirror. John’s breath hitched at the sight of your lips rubbing together to make sure the coat is even, the shimmer on them making his pants a bit tighter.

he wonders how that lip gloss would look on his hard cock as your mouth wraps around his head. maybe that color would look good against his shaft from you placing delicate kisses against the veins of his length. the thought of your pink tongue swirling around his throbbing tip before taking his entire cock down your throat, his hand grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing your face down just a little bit deeper than you’re comfortable with just to assert his dominance over you.

it’s all making his toes curl in his leather oxfords.

he soon noticed that your delicate fingernails, the vampy colored tips, were dragging along the bulge in his pants. his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he grips the leather couch cushion, not daring to making a sudden move. apparently you are much bolder than you made yourself out to be.

oh what he would do to put your in your place. to wipe that shit eating grin off your beautiful face. to whip out his cock and think back to when he hypothetically had you bent over the table for all of his and your friends to see. ripping whatever colored panties you had on, off, and tossing them to the side. one hand firmly shoving your head into the table, another lining up the tip of his dick with your entrance, before mercilessly pounding into your cunt. punishing you for even daring to speak to him in such a manner, in front of his buddies no less. maybe his friends would cheer him on, a few taking out their phones to take a video of it. maybe your friends would be slightly turned on by the roughness and lack of decency john is showing to you. even the thought of your cunt squeezing around his length and cumming from his despicable act might make him burst.

“yeah? you like that? fucking whore.” he’d say to you as he would pin your arms behind your back, giving you another hard slap on your ass. you’d let out a moan and a grunt from the roughness of it all. “tell me you fucking love it, be a good girl for me, come on.” john would growl in your ear, the positioning of him reaching that far would force his cock to be all the way inside of your pussy. the sudden feeling would make you gasp and cry, tears rolling down your makeup covered cheeks as you babbled about how much you loved it.

john suddenly feels the lack of touch on his erection, looking up from his daydream.

“come on dude, we’re all getting shots and then going on the dance floor.” the groom of john’s party calls to him, his group laughs at john’s lack of awareness as most of the crowd exits the vip booth from behind the curtains.

you’re the last to stand up, grabbing your purse and smoothing out your skirt before you joined the rest. you believe you’ve won this round of teasing with this complete stranger.

oh how wrong you are.

a surprised squeak escaped your glossy lips as you feel john’s strong hands grip your hips and waist. his nails dug hard through your clothing, using those unstable high heels to his advantage. your balance in those was subpar at best anyways, and now, he could easily snatch you up, even from where he was sitting.

“h-hey!” you squeal, john could fucking care less. your ass falls straight into his lap, with you immediately feeling how hard his is, and how wonderful it feels against your throbbing pussy. even if you did have underwear on, it didn’t matter. sitting in him was definitely going to leave a wet spot.

john gives you a dark and satisfied grin, leaning towards your ear with his hands beginning to hike up your skirt. your heart pounded as he was getting ready to have his way with your poor body.

“where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

#john wick #jw #keanu reeves #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #john wick imagine #keanu #john wick one shot #john wick fanfic #keanuverse #jw4

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

I Came for You {J.W.}

Pairing: John Wick X Reader

Word count: 2.4 K

Summary: John broke up with you, and now, evil men are using you as bait to get him. They say he still loves you, that he will come... But you don't think so.

{John Wick Masterlist}

{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

×

You tried to tell them. Over and over again you tried to tell them.

The man they're seeking doesn't love you anymore. He won't come. Not for you.

But they won't listen. It doesn't matter what you say.

One of the men, the tallest of the three, hits you again, with the back of his hand, and you fall to the cold floor from your kneeling position.

“Stop it.” A younger man in the back says. He's the scared one. Or the only one who let it show, his hands cupped together, moving, folding, and unfolding. “The more we hurt her, the more–”

“John and I aren't together anymore.” You cry again, cutting him off, a hand on your cheek. Many tears are soaking your face, dry and new. And more keep coming. “He broke up with me a year ago. He won't come!”

Around six hours ago, you were walking back home when a van came. You tried to run because you knew. You just knew it had something to do with John because there was no other way a bunch of men so well dressed, with a black van would want you. But you tried to run, moved by instinct.

But, an hour later, you were locked here, in this dark, humid room.

And every hour John doesn't come for you, they come to beat you up. Or cut you. The promise is that they will let you go once John is dead.

And that promise made you question your feelings again.

In a matter of seconds, your brain shot you through a long trip. Memories of the only man you truly loved. Madly. And as much as you tried to forget him in the past year since he broke up with you for whatever reasons, you still love him.

At that moment, every kiss, every hug, every day you spent with him came back, in full power. The day he told you about his past. The day he said he loved you. The day you said it back. The day he promised he'd never, ever let you go.

He may have lied.

But you didn't.

The love you once felt for him didn't vanish at all. And is this love, as crazy as it feels, that makes you pray that he doesn't come.

John may be the Baba Yaga, but it doesn't change the fear that takes over at the thought of him being in the slightest danger.

So this is where you are now. Hoping the man you love, who doesn't love you anymore, won't show up, won't put himself in danger for you.

Love is a funny thing, so hard to understand.

“Oh, but he will.” The man says, crouching down to look at you. There's hate in his eyes, and it makes you shiver. “Hour after hour, I'll come, pretty girl.” He takes your chin in his hand, squeezing your jaw painfully. “Hour after hour, I'll take hurt his pretty girl, and hour after hour, the word will get to him of how much I'm hurting you. And he will come, right into my trap.”

More tears come, and you taste blood in your mouth. “John doesn't love me. We're not together, he won't come.” You try again, hoping they'd let you go. Anything you can tell yourself to try to avoid the idea that you'll most likely die here. Alone. “We haven't spoken ever since he ended things.”

With a scoff, another punch comes, right on your cheek, and you're down again, on the floor. “C'mon, boys. Let's give it another hour.” The man stands up, and you see them moving out through the curtain on your hair.

“She's a tough girl. She will last many hours. Days, even.” Another one says.

“If she doesn't come to save her, he will come to avenge her. Either way, he will come.” The first one answers and the metal door is closed.

The clicking sounds on the lock make you sigh, still on the floor. And there's where you remain because there's nowhere to go. No bed, no mattress. Not even a sheet to protect your body from the cold. The room, with white tiles on the floor and light, dirty blue walls don't have one single piece of furniture.

It feels like a coffin.

Pushing yourself to the wall, groaning, you manage to sit up. You smell like sweat, tears, and blood. But mostly blood. Your body is covered in bruises, quick to form after the constant assault. The skin broke in some spots on your legs and arms as you tried your best to protect your torso. But since you couldn't do much for your back, it also has some bleeding spots. And there's a sharp pain in your ribs if you inhale more than just a little.

And your face... Your lip is bleeding again, your skull is taken by a terrible headache. Cheeks probably purple too, and swollen eyes from the crying.

The crying that comes back when you struggle to hug your legs to your chest, sobs shaking your body.

“Don't come.” You murmur into the darkness. “Don't come, John.” He deserves better. He deserves another life, another chance. After his past, after the loss of his wife. Even if not with you, John deserves to be happy. Safe. “Don't come.”

Repeating the words, you lie back down, slowly, moaning in pain. Maybe you'll die if you sleep. Or maybe not, because your body is trying too hard to stay alive.

One way or another, they'll come back soon enough.

And the torture will begin again.

•••

You're not sure for how long you were out. Ten minutes? Half an hour?

But when you hear footsteps, you know it was another hour. And so it'll happen again.

You start hyperventilating, your broken body pleading for a break. Covering your face with both hands, you start crying again, all your senses overcome with fear, terror, pain...

“No!” You yell the moment a hand touches your shoulder, the scream makes your throat burn, and the attempt on moving away from the aggressor makes pain swallow you completely. “No! No, no, no!”

“(Y/N)!” The voice, raised above your own, sends a wave through your body. Something warm, soft, familiar. But yet, you don't move, eyes on the floor in front of the man's shoes, hair covering your face, shallow breaths barely enough to satisfy your lungs. “It's me.” He says, and this time, you start crying for a different reason.

Your voice comes low this time, barely audible. “J-John...” You call, raising your eyes slowly.

“Yes, sweetheart.” He says, sadness, and desolation in his voice. “I came for you.”

When you see him, his face half-lit by the yellowish light coming from outside, you're overcome by such a sensation of safety, seeing the only man who could take you from this place and take you home safe and sound... That you're body just gives up, and you sink into darkness.

•••

Even in your dreams, dark and painful, you know you won't be hurt again.

When you wake up, your eyes slowly open, and you take in a familiar smell. The smell of the softener John uses on his sheets.

You're at his place.

“John!” You cry, out loud, but your voice is but a whisper, throat dry, burning under the effort of trying to speak.

An old woman comes out of nowhere, in a white lab coat. She quickly leaves, and you stay there, crying, in numbness that can only be explained by some kind of painkiller, administrated through an IV.

Fast footsteps and then him, coming through the door, rushing to you. The man that you have loved too much. The man that you still love. The man that saved you. “John.” It rolls out your lips, as the tears roll down your cheeks.

“Shh. I'm here, my love. Don't speak, please.” He says, and, in his eyes, as he sits very carefully on the bed, you can only find love. The same look, the same intensity, the same caring stare, watching over you. So you don't question it, you don't doubt it. John still loves you, because you've learned to read the mystery of John Wick. Jardani Jovonovich, lies like an open book before you. “You're hurt. Badly.”

“I wanna shower.” You mutter, knowing you're disgusting. Blood, sweat, and tears. And the memory it all brings. “Please.”

He sighs because he knows you so well. He can either help or you'll just find a way to do it yourself. “Slowly.” He takes the IV off, putting something to stop the bleeding. Then, he picks you up, so carefully, as if you're made of glass.

Stripping before John is something new. You both decided to wait until marriage, but in your state, you don't give it much thought. John means safety, security, and comfort. All the good things. John is home.

Once the clothes are cut open to give the doctor woman access to clean and cover your wounds, John opens the warm water to fill the tub, the precise temperature you love. He then starts washing you, letting the water with blood down the drain before filling the tub again, until both you and the water are clean. Then you both stay there, you in the tub, and John seated on the floor next to it, in silence. Until you decide to break it.

“John, why–”

“I'm so sorry.” He cuts you off, and you feel his eyes on you as you look down at the small ripples of water you create with a hand. “It's my fault. That... That was why I broke up with you. Because I was scared something like this would happen. But if I was with you, I could've protected you better. They wouldn't dare to take you. I... I heard from a weak link in their army that they only got you because you weren't under my... Protection anymore. They were only hoping my affection for you would be enough to make me go save you.”

You listen, silently, breathing slowly. The reason doesn't matter. The pain is still clear, but what happened is in the past. Everything you want to do now is healing. “And do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you still have any affection for me? More than to just save me?” You have to ask. You have to hear it from him, to be sure, to know where to put your heart.

John sighs, and after long, several seconds, you conclude he won't answer. And it's okay because you won't push him into it. Never. But then... He looks at you, straight into your eyes. “I don't...” He starts, but his voice fades, and you can see it in his expression as he tries to fix up his thoughts, but then in order. That's how much you know John. “I've never been in a relationship since Helen, and I... I thought I was out back then, but you know what happened after... And I'm scared it'll happen again...”

“Don't you think I know the risk?” You mutter, a tear rolling down. “I do. But the thing is, if we were together, they wouldn't have taken me. Because they were scared of you. And the truth is that you were protecting me before, and not putting me in danger. I'm not saying this so we can get back together, just saying the facts.”

“And do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Have any affection for me?”

Chuckling, you roll your eyes, making pain shoot through your skull. “Yes, dumbass. I was back there, praying you wouldn't come to save me because I was so scared they could hurt you... And don't even get me started on you being the ‘Baba Yaga’. You get a scratch and I'm already freaking out.” For some reason, John giggles. “What's so funny?”

“You must be feeling better. You're already running your mouth.”

“Oh, shut it.” Crossing your arms, you look away from him. “You'll have to look after me until I'm healed. And I don't care if we're together or not, I'm your responsibility until the doctor says I'm not.”

At that, John nods, stands up, and leaves.

It makes your heart sink. Why the hell did you say that? “John, I... I didn't mean it, ok?” You did, of course, you did. Nobody would take care of you better than John. But you don't want to force him into it. “I can go to the hospital. Or have a nurse with me at home.” No answer. “John?”

It takes two minutes for him to come back to the bathroom. “Did you call me?”

“Yes, I did. What do you have there?”

John sits back down. Not really sit, just gets on one knee near the tub. “I bought this four months after we started dating because I was so sure... And... I didn't want to do this while you're naked, covered in wounds in my tub and I certainly didn't ever plan on breaking up with you and that was the biggest mistake of my life so...” John shows you a black, square box, already open. Inside, there's a ring, a diamond with little pink stones, three of them, on each side. Pink sapphires, you know. Because he knows they're your favorites.

“John...”

“(Y/N)... I'm a simple man. All I ever wanted was a normal, simple life. And for some reason, God above decided to bless me with a second chance when I found you. So, I'd be the happiest man alive if you give me the honor of being my wife.”

You're frozen, sobbing, eyes locked on him. You're nodding, because it takes a while for you to find your voice again, and then, all pain is forgotten. “Yes, Jardani.” Finally, you mutter, a hand covering your mouth. “A trillion times, yes.” Throwing your arms around his neck, you bite back a groan when the pain insists on reminding you of your broken body.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He says in your ear, and you melt against him, knowing you'll be safe now. Happy, with the man you love.

When you pull away, John slides the ring on your finger, placing a kiss on your hand. “I'll never let you go. I'll never let you get hurt again. I'll do everything I can to make you the happiest woman on Earth. I promise, my love.”

“Well, I promise you the same things... Even though I have zero fighting skills but how to break someone's nose.” You both giggle, and you look at the ring and then back at him. And that's when you find John sliding a second ring, just like yours but without the stones, on his finger.

“Now...” Carefully, he picks you up, carrying back to the bedroom and pacing you gently on the bed. He wraps the towel around your body, always a respectful gentleman. “I'll nurse you back to health and while I do so, we can start planning the wedding.”

Biting your lip to hold back a smile that escapes, you nod. “I like the idea, love.”

#john wick imagine #imagine john wick #john wick x y/n #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fanfiction

[iovesia]

HOW THEY ACT WHEN THEY'RE JEALOUS.

❥⠀masterlist. ⠀:⠀ ( keanu reeves masterlist. & gif credit. )

warnings: angst. gender neutral reader. slight fluff. insecurities. emotional hurt/little comfort. arguing. one mention of weed. not proof-read. english isn't my first language, apologies for any grammar errors!

characters included: ted logan (bill & ted), matt (river's edge), neo (the matrix trilogy), kevin lomax (the devil's advocate).

josie’s note .⁺ ˖ ⌒ i have too much to study to be writing this, but here we are! i'm slowly falling back into my keanu reeves phase (not that i ever left), so enjoy these quick little hcs! i had to include some of his more underrated characters. your media consumption is your own responsibility, read the warnings and enjoy!— reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated !! ♡

⠀

ted would be the least jealous out of everyone on this roster. but it never bummed him out any less when he would watch you spending frequent time with someone else. hurts even more if it is someone that ted thinks you'd be better with. his insecurities begin to creep from the back of his mind when he'd hear about your new science partner that you've been assigned to for a class project. along with his head hurting from trying to understand any of the formulas you're writing down— his heart hung heavily in his chest. academics have never been ted's strongest suit, but he tried! but what if that wasn't good enough for you anymore? what if you wanted to date someone you could have intellectual conversations with? or someone who could spell "stallions" correctly? ted would be noticeably quieter when you two would hang out, and it'd take a while before he'd crack and tell you how he felt.

matt is jealous mostly out of fear— fear that he will lose you, the person who is the most important to him. he comes from a dysfunctional family: an working mother, a drunk stepfather, and a sociopathic little brother hellbent on causing mayhem. so it's safe to say that he's become very attached to you— the only stability in his chaotic world. he will often get jealous, resulting in late night arguments. the rage bubbling in his veins and he snaps, and his misdirected anger never fails to make your eyes brim with tears. expect matt to knock on your door the next morning. he mumbles soft apologies and wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest as you inhale the soft scent of weed and cigarettes staining his denim jacket.

neo knows that you're already his, and he trusts you. you would never betray him. the look of utter devotion in his eyes when he gazes at you is forever imprinted in your mind. you're two halves of a whole. he's not prone to jealousy when someone tries to hit on you. neo's body tenses when he sees you walking around the nebuchadnezzar with dozer, a hearty laugh escaping your lips. any bubbling insecurities fade when your eyes glance over to him, the heat rushing to his cheeks. it could be years that you're together, yet he finds himself flustered and blushing everytime.

one night, when kevin dragged you along to another one of john milton's parties, he had "momentarily" left you as he was reeled into another mind-numbingly boring conversation with some other lawyers at neighbouring firms. kevin is slightly possessive over you, so you hardly miss his narrow gaze when he sees one of his colleagues getting a little too friendly with you. with a clenched jaw, he excuses himself and almost immediately walks over to you. kevin thinks very highly of himself, so he's not exactly jealous as he is offended— offended at the idea that anyone thinks they have a shot with you. he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, and with a cheshire grin hanging on his lips, pulls you away.

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #ted logan imagine #ted logan x reader #neo anderson imagine #neo anderson x reader #matt rivers edge #matt rivers edge imagine #kevin lomax x reader #kevin lomax imagine #the matrix #the devils advocate #bill and ted

[neoarchipelago]

Keanu Reeves - John Wick Masterlist

Keanu reeves:

Misbehaving (Daddy!Dom!Keanu x reader) One-Shot!

John Wick :

Mini Series:

Lisbon lights (completed)(fluff & romance Assassin!reader) warnings: curse words violence, blood, kidnapping, torture:

Sneak peek

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

part 6

Ghosts serie (completed) (fluff comfort Smutt) warnings: abuse, blood, depression, curse words.

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

Bridegroom's oak tree serie (Mafia Lord!John Wick) HUGE DADDY DOM FROM PART 4 ONWARDS. Warnings: SMUTT 18+, daddy!Dom, mature content. (You can read part 1 and 2 for a basic romance fluff story)

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

Citrus, Cauldron and Gun powder (Witch!Reader): Witchcraft, fluff, Smutt. Warnings: blood, dark topics, Witchcraft? Cursing, mature content.

MOODBOARD

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

Her teacher (Teacher!John Wick) warnings: Smutt 18+, mature content, curse words, violence, blood, stalking:

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

Halloween Special

Requests / One-Shot

Making it up to you (John Wick x Reader one-shot)

Wooden coffee table (John wick x reader)

Sleeping with a friend (John Wick x Reader)

Blood Red Marker and Binary Code (John wick x reader one shot)

#fanfics #fanfic #fanfiction #john wick fanfiction #johnwickgif #john wick x reader #john wick series #john wick x you #keanu reeves fic #keanu reeves x reader