bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 16 all chapters
~AUTHOR'S WARNINGS: N$FW, SEXUAL CONTENT, COPIOUS SWEARING, TOXIC POSESSIVENESS , IF SOMEONE TREATS YOU LIKE THIS IN REAL LIFE RUN RUN RUN BC IT WILL NOT TURN OUT WELL U CANT FIX THEM~
-Aware that John Wick knows this city much better than you, you stick to the crowds. You manage to find your way to the Peggy Guggenheim collection, and you hang out there for hours, looking through the art works, but really only half seeing what is in front of you.
You are devastated.
You’ve had controlling boyfriends before, and it was not fun. They seem exciting at first, until the person you were before is eaten alive by their tantrums and their ridiculous expectations as they try to fit you into a box of their own making.
You can’t believe John turned out that way.
Or maybe you can. Maybe you have a fucking type, and you should have seen this coming.
You stay almost until closing, then grab a bite to eat before daring to wander the streets. You find a little walled in park, a courtyard filled with lush greenery and a tinkling fountain. By some miracle, there is only one other couple on a bench at the far end. You practically have the place to yourself, and you sit down on a wrought iron bench with a sigh and eat your sandwich.
You pull out your sketchbook afterwards to pass the time. Your doodling hand wanders, and perhaps its no surprise when you draw John Wick from memory, his proud lips and haunted eyes. There are tears running down your cheeks as you do so. When it gets too much, even though you’re in public, you hang your head and weep into your hands.
Darkness falls, and you know you should be getting back. The bench has long ceased to be comfortable, and yet it’s like you have grown into it, unable to move.
Even with your head down, when someone sits silently down beside you, you just know it’s John.
You do not look at him, and thankfully he does not try to touch you.
“It’s getting late, y/n. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Yes it is,” he insists, sounding almost tired about it. You hate it that your demeanor softens towards him, just a little.
“You broke my heart, Mr. Wick.”
“I was afraid I might.” He is sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. “Would you let me make it up to you?”
“I'm not sure that's a good idea.”
“No?”
“No. I think you have a mean streak.”
He had tried to warn you, you realize, in his way.
God, are you really such a fool?
“Doesn't everyone?”
You make a sound between your teeth, and he nods like you have said something profound.
“I'm not a nice man, y/n. But I would be good to you.”
“Like last night? I didn't like that.”
The corner of his mouth curves in a wicked smirk, and your heart skips a beat in your chest, damn him. Was the contrition all an act?
“Yes you did.”
“Not the last part.”
“Hmm. I tried to warn you.”
In the vaguest terms possible, maybe.
“My fanny.”
He raises an eyebrow to that, and you’re not sure why that little gesture wounds you like a knife to the heart all over again. Perhaps because he is beautiful, and even though you know he’s dangerous for you, you still want him so very much.
You start to cry again, and try to get up from the bench. You need to get away from him, because you can’t think straight when he’s near.
“Y/n, wait.” He catches your wrist, and when you don’t really fight him, he pulls you down into his lap, and goddammit if this isn’t what you’d wanted all along. You feel small in his arms, cradled against his long torso and sheltered in the bend of his neck, even if in your hindbrain you know you are not actually safe at all. He strokes your hair until you quiet, and he kisses your temple like you are something precious.
How can this man be so sweet, just to turn on you?
“Why did you leave me, like that?”
You just do not understand. You could have had a lovely, fulfilling, mind-blowing if not vanilla night together. He’d laid all the groundwork like a master orchestrator, and you would have let him fuck you senseless. Fuck, you wouldn’t have even minded the tying up part, if he just hadn’t humiliated you.
“Because…” His lips ghost along the line of your jaw, and you fight not to squirm as his large hand slides up your thigh, his fingertips feather light on your skin. “Only good girls get to cum,” he says low in your ear, and you hate how it makes you ache between your legs, to hear him talk to you that way.
Outwardly, you do your best to keep your cool.
“And touching your hair made me a bad girl?”
“No.”
“Disobeying you did.”
“Yes.”
“That’s kinda fucked up.”
“Maybe.” He actually seems a little amused by you, which is not the reaction you were expecting. “I like to be in control. But you make me feel...unbalanced.”
“Me?” You sound incredulous. The thought that you could affect this powerful man in such a way seems absurd.
“Yes, you, kitten.”
The urge to demand he not call you that desiccates on your tongue.
“So...what? You feel the need to take revenge for that?”
“Maybe. I thought you knew the game we were playing, when you batted those big eyes up at me. Mr Wick, Sir, aren’t I a good girl?” His fingers dig into your thigh with the memory, and you can feel his growing erection beneath you. “But you’re just an innocent, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“You’re used to boys just eating out of the palm of your hand. But I am a man, with a man’s appetites, and a man’s desires.”
He was a little more than that, you reckoned.
“You want to control me.”
“That’s part of it.”
“Why?”
He smirks. “Maybe I had a rough childhood.”
You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“I want to take care of you.” He kisses your cheek again, and it is gentle and sweet and everything you had wanted from Mr. Wick, before this all went sideways. “I want you to be mine.”
You are not proud of the way those words unleash a fluttering swarm of butterflies in your belly, your breath quickening in your chest. You are proud when you manage to answer, “I don’t need taking care of.”
He just snorts lightly at that, as if it’s not even worth arguing over. “Come back to the hotel room with me. I promise I’ll finish what I started. With interest.” His hand slowly slides up your thigh, just beneath the skirt of your sundress, and you think you might die. You should not want this man, after what he did to you.
The ache between your legs suggests otherwise.
You give yourself some points, when you shake your head.
“No. I’m going back to my hostel.”
The shift in his demeanor gives you whiplash, a thunderhead of a frown pulling his handsome features. “Need to get back to your little friend Javi?” The jealousy in his tone hot as a brand. “Did he try to kiss you again?”
Your heart drops to your feet.
“How did you know he tried to kiss me?” you ask, your voice so small.
That was in Rome, after all.
What should have been obvious before comes crashing in, and you realize what a little fool you’ve been. That feeling that someone’s been watching you, and John’s so convenient and coincidental appearance outside the alley…
“Holy shit. You’ve been following me.”
“I’ve been protecting you.”
“Excuse me?”
“You have no idea what the world is really like, sweetheart. It’s a dangerous place.”
You frown at this.
“So…you think I’m stupid?”
“No, of course not.”
“You think I can’t take care of myself then.”
“I think I found you wandering around here like a lost little lamb. There are monsters here who would have gobbled a sweet little treat like you up in one bite.”
The fact that he sees you that way is more alarming than the thought of some unnamed threat in the shadows.
For some reason it makes you think of the men in the van back home—and how that van was found empty and on fire.
“How do you know about the monsters, John?”
“I just know.”
“You said you weren’t a cop. Were you FBI?”
He glares at you, which you take as a no.
“Interpol?”
You are met with silence, and you nod, mostly to yourself.
“You know about the monsters because you are one.” You think about those fierce looking Italian men with their scars and their bespoke suits. His previous words echo in your memory. Sono retirato.
“Were you in the mob?”
“Not…specifically.”
Then you remember he’d said he was from Belarus.
“Bratva, then.”
You should be terrified as you work all this out, trapped in the circle of this man’s arms, but you feel strangely numb about it all.
“My clever girl.” He sounds almost sad about it.
“Not clever enough,” you sigh.
You are not sure who is more surprised, you or him, when you burst to your feet. You actually manage to slip out of his grasp, though you only make it three steps before he captures your wrist again with a grip like an iron manacle. He gives you a dark look, annoyed that you would even try to play this game with him.
You remember what you learned in martial arts class a lifetime ago, pointing your thumb down towards the weak point of his grip and trying to jerk free. It’s worked before, with grabby men.
Not with John Wick, though.
“Stop.” Again, there’s that steely tone. The alpha voice one uses to reprimand a naughty dog. It only makes you angrier, and you struggle.
He pulls you hard against him, and you bite his hand. He doesn’t let you go, just adjusts his grip. “I didn’t want to do it this way,” he snarls low in your ear. “But you are so fucking stubborn.”
“Thank you.” You try to headbutt him behind you, but he ducks into the bend of your shoulder. You feel his chest trembling against your back, and only belatedly do you realize he is laughing at you.
“Enjoying this?”
“A little.”
“There’s no fucking way you can get me out of here without someone seeing. Let me go.”
He just sighs into your hair, like you’ve said something extremely naïve.
The arrival of newcomers into the park catches both of your attention. You lift your head, ready to ask for help, when you recognize the besuited tough guys from before.
Well, fuck.
“You've got some balls, showing your face around here, John Wick. Gianna d’Antonio’s son sends his greetings.”
“This isn’t a good time,” he snarls in return.
“Sorry, are you too busy fighting with your little girlfriend?”
He actually releases you then, pushing you to stand behind him. They are blocking the exit, so for now, you comply.
“You know how this will go,” John says, assuming a ready stance, his feet spread. He almost sounds regretful about it. “Do yourselves a favor, and leave.”
“Can’t do it, John,” says the one in the lead.
“For fuck’s sake,” curses John under his breath. The lead Italian makes a move, and John bursts into action. He is like a tornado of carnage upon them, throwing punches and breaking arms, cutting tendons and stabbing throats.
You are absolutely frozen as you watch all this unfold before you.
That is, until one of the thugs throws a knife at John, and you watch it bury in his chest. This is the thing that breaks your spell, and you run towards the fray with a scream, though who the fuck knows what you intend to do.
However, like he wasn’t just stabbed in the heart, John takes another attacker’s gun, pistol whipping him with it before shooting the knife thrower, then the last one standing. It cannot have been more than minute, before all of them are dead at his feet. He leans on his bent knees for a moment, catching his breath.
“John?” You hardly recognize your own voice as you rush to him, certain he’s taken a lethal blow and somehow fought through it with the surge of adrenaline. However, when you peel back his suit jacket you find no blood. He lets you look him over with frantic hands, maybe enjoying the fact that you don’t wish him dead, before pulling the still protruding knife from the breast of his jacket.
When he produces the little leather journal you’d gifted him from his inside pocket, now gravely marred with a puncture through the cover, you understand.
“Holy fuck.”
“You saved my life,” he says with an odd little smile down at you, as though all this is normal and what you just saw is totally ok.
Utterly horrified, you run.
“Y/n, wait!”
You throw yourself into the dark winding streets, taking any turn you can, trying to stay out of sight. Your feet fly beneath you; even in your shitty strappy sandals, it’s the fastest you’ve ever run.
It’s not fast enough.
When strong arms close around you, lifting you from the ground, you try to scream. A big hand clamps over your mouth, and you find yourself pressed hard into a stone wall. “Please, calm down,” he pants in your ear, out of breath from killing four people then running you down.
Your answer of, “Are you fucking kidding me?” is nothing but muffled syllables.
“Goddammit,” he sighs behind you, rifling in his pocket for something as he pins you with his body. “This is not how I wanted this to go.”
Your pitiful plea of “Let me go,” is cut off by an evil-smelling cloth shoved into your nose.
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me: [looks at calendar, gets a wicked idea, looks into the camera] happy springtime, turtle fam! who's ready to celebrate the season?
...mating season, that is. hehe. [dodges the tomatoes]
so! i had the idea that it would be super fun to have a community-wide event where we all have a prompt and then everyone fills it in their own way.
...i then decided all the prompts i came up with were too good not to use, but also none of them were Good Enough to use exclusively, so i changed my mind and the prompt is now just MATING SEASON. with a few suggestions at the bottom of this post if you're looking for some.
since spring is coming upon us, i hereby invite everyone to join in the vernal festivities... which in turtle parlance, of course, means only one thing: write, draw, whatever your version of "mating season", then join me on march 1 to post it with the tag #TMNTSpringShellebration. we then shall browse the fine selection of our mutual artistic efforts, and basically just have a good time as a community.
here are the prompts i came up with as starters-slash-things-to-include if you're looking for a place to get started. feel free to use these at will, or use them to come up with something of your own:
“Please don’t make me explain this. It’s humiliating as is.”
Oops, Looks Like Mating Season Came A Week Early This Year
“…In all of my mating seasons, this has never happened before.”
“I told you not to come by! It’s mating season!”
Probably should have expected it to be different now that he’s not going through it alone.
Because of Shenanigans, you have to wait. Wait… Wait… ok now.
They’re not the right person for mating season… but they’re the one who’s here, so…
“Show me where it hurts."
so yeah! see you all on march 1 for the, uh, spring shellebration. party popper emoji
questions i imagine will be popping up and i hope will clear up here before my askbox swells beyond capacity under the cut to keep this post from being Way Too Long. also it's really not that serious it's just an excuse to write slash draw for everyone Please Don't Take This Thing Too Seriously It's Not That Serious:
"can i participate?" yes! it's literally just an invitation to do something. nothing fancier than that. no need to be following me or in my friend group or whatever.
"can i write (insert fic idea here)?" yep! so long as it's related to the idea of mating seasons, it flies. reader insert? hell yea. oc? hell yeah. solo turtle and his favorite pillow? go for it.
"can i draw (insert art idea here)?" yep! uh. i know tumblr has the cops watching for sin bin material, but you art people know how to deal with that. and if you don't, uh, ask the other art people. im just a feral cat in a trench coat
"how do i participate?" write/draw/collect songs for/whatever. then, on march 1, post it and tag it #TMNTSpringShellebration. also, for funsies, keep it hush hush what you're working on so we can all be super shocked when the day comes! except, y'know, that you're planning on joining in. totally do that.
"when do i post it?" march 1. whenever on that day. waves hands around in a vague gesture at time zones not mattering. seriously don't take this so seriously it's just me wanting to create cool shit with my friends with a little more structure to it
"does it have to be horny?" i mean. it's an event about mating season. so by definition it's going to be at least a little horny. but however you interpret it is cool. even if it's just. idk. leo sitting sweatily in a chair looking longingly at a glass of water bc he's thirstier than usual. be smart about things, people. i'm not your dad.
"which tmnt verse is this for?" whichever one you want it to be for!! rise! bayverse! 2007! your fan iteration! your friend's fan iteration! your mortal enemy's fan iteration! yes!
"will you be reblogging everything?" absolutely not, but this isn't an event About Me. i am incidental to the thing. it's about Us. coming together as a community. for horny turtles. puts my hands on your shoulders. do it for you. for your friends. for the community.
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