l’homme est une force qui s’ignore.
a man is a force that ignores himself.
full work
[Marquis Vincent de Gramont x Reader, Santino d'Antonio x Reader]
What made a man?
It had been the everlasting question whispered from lips, uttered into the ether in complaint or pleasure alike, each opinion further complicating the other - almost as if centuries of sacrifice, death and war occurred to produce an answer to the ominous myth.
Was it the mere actions that made a man worthy of walking this earth with dignity and pride, chin up high? The pure strength, the mental blocks constructed? How fast he could draw a pistol and take a soul without hesitation?
Was it how long he waited before taking a life? The duration he would stare into the eyes of the victim, until the last light of life disappeared from their orbs?
How much blood coated their fingers, only to be scrubbed frantically later?
Or had it been how his body claimed others within the sheets?
To him, it was none of those qualities.
To him, the answer was rather quite simple, shaming the conquest and efforts of many in this cause.
It was sheer power - control laced in dominance that made a man. That distinguished the ones who were worthy.
Not the kind of power that made men bow, no. He had not been interested in artificial showcases of submission.
The power he sought was the kind that made the fire in glinting eyes turn into ice, that ran chills down the spine the moment his steps echoed into a room. The kind that announced presence even before the body appeared - the mere idea of him in proximity enough to shatter mental barriers.
He had learned it early on in life.
Forced through the circumstances that had brought him into this earth, with an empty nothingness seeping through his small fingers.
Power was not something he had been donned the privilege of the moment he opened his eyes into the back alleys of a long-forgotten banlieu, under a name that had fleeting weight yet no substance.
The promise of privilege staring at him right in the eye, yet far to the touch.
His was a power that rose from sheer ambition - and the willingness to cut anybody who dared step in his way.
It had been a trait he had carried with him through the adventure of life, like a blade strapped tight.
After all, a life wrapped in the guise of shadows and faintly resonated whispers, often times adorned with the crimson of blood spilling and smoke rising from the barrel - had not been for many men.
Weakness ran rampant in some if not many, resolves crumbling just when they think that they hit their limit.
Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont did not believe in limits.
Not when it came to how his life was structured.
For the unseeing eye, he had been yet another rich count running his wealth rampant, as far as it had reached.
For those who had an idea what to look for - he had been an enigma wrapped in the finest fabrics Paris ateliers could produce.
For those within the circles of the underworld - he had been the one they did not want to encounter unless they wanted to be erased from the face of the earth.
Out of the tables he had sat at over the years, not many had been meaningless dinners.
When he had entered a room of envoys and delegates, it had been with the intention to manipulate.
Only a small handful of situations came to mind where events happened without his control, where cogs turned and twisted without him conducting the speed. In the world he had so carefully curated and constructed with utmost thought into detail, not a soul breathed out of order. Not a single call went unanswered, a want dismissed.
Even a man like him had to admit - he had not been used to being an observer.
Yet, that day, he would enter the New York Continental not as a man with an obligation, but rather a watchful judge.
Among all the occasions, as an exception, he had not been there to change the course of history that one time.
He was there to bear witness it get rewritten in front of his bare eyes - something a man like him could not afford to miss. Someone who understood the shifts, the ebbs and flows of volatile power dynamics in their world.
Vincent had not been one for funerals - he had been around death way too many times to hold respect to the farewell of such a fragile thing. However, when duty had called to ensure the event had been conducted according to High Table standards - his interest had piqued.
The light incense of the chapel engulfed him, along with the flickering of candlelight scattered all around the room - elegance seeping through the air, the room the epitome of muted, somewhat feigned grief and politically spoken condolences.
He stood near the shadows in the rear, a crystal glass of something amber and aged wrapped in his fingers, his signet ring catching the light with the subtle movements. Black three-piece suit with satin lapels cut so sharp, his pants the finest of gray Italian wool. Fragments of leftover orange and yellow light catching his cheekbone, the blue grays scanning the room as they often did.
Shortly after, came the moment when Vincent had first laid eyes on you.
It had been an accidental gaze, he would tell himself, even though he did not believe in accidents. His eyes trailed with your frame, the focal point for some seconds now, watching you shake hands and accept condolences from a weapons dealer whose hands bore the scars of too many deals gone sideways.
Vincent raised his glass to savor another sip of his drink, letting the bitter taste burn his throat.
The first thing he noticed of you, had been the effortless grace.
There was a subtle command in how you moved - precision in each limb, each step taken with intention. It was not the kind of elegance that could be instilled through laborious years of training - it was one that people dreamed to be born with.
The kind that shone through the confinements of the skirt suit you donned, expertly tailored in the finest tweed.
A Camorra family brooch adorning your lapel, shining through the sombre. The tiny black veil in front your eyes providing refuge in case of unwanted eye contact.
A tasteful diamond ring adorning your left hand.
Vincent’s brow furrowed ever so slightly as the shine of the stone caught his eye in an angle.
Your movements too elegant, perhaps, for someone who had just buried the patriarch of their family.
He knew a performance when he saw one.
Yet another actor would slowly approach him, taking him out of his brief focus - the scent of expensive cologne laced with a hint of tension on his features, Santino d’Antonio greeted him with a brief handshake. The perfect example of a grieving son with his pressed suit. A show of measured strength meeting a counterpart.
A slow, courteous nod from the Marquis was his way of expressing his condolences.
“Marquis,” he would acknowledge, his voice neutral. “I imagine this is different than most ceremonies you’ve attended.”
There was a flicker of unknown origin in his gaze. “Fewer tears. More knives under coats.”
“Ah,” Santino would exclaim, a hint of a smile stretching his lips, “- then it must feel like home.”
To that, the Marquis responded in a slight smirk, taking another sip. Again, through some force of nature that he had not been made aware of - his eyes landed on you, after they lingered throughout the crowd of guests.
Much to his surprise, so did Santino’s.
“She carries herself well. Confident,” Vincent would exclaim, voice low but purposeful, his eyes briefly shifting to catch Santino’s.
“Camorra?”
A soft chuckle escaped Santino’s lips at the mention of you, his voice proud and almost hopeful.
“My fiancée.”
A soft shiver of unknown origin went down his spine upon the words. For a moment, the Marquis let the weight of the words hung between the pair of men - unexpected and unheard. Thick as the air surrounding them.
A short nod in acknowledgement of the news.
His smirk, however, did not betray him as it turned into something colder, sharper. The sound of his voice low, dangerous yet surprisingly light.
“It seems that mourning is only the opening act of this evening.”
Something lingering in the air whispered to him - that there would be blood that day.
In which you and John are the best in the industry, and you have a whole bunch of adopted dogs.
(For anon)
The two of you individually are titans in the industry. And then you come together? It would be terrifying to be on the other side of that dynamic.
John would defer to you a lot. If someone approached the two of you for... well, anything really, his response would be, “ask Y/N, they’re the boss.”
Although you wouldn’t work together often (that much power is reserved for special cases) when you did, you’d start to develop a sort of choreography with one another. You’d know each others strengths and weaknesses and be able to use both to your respective advantages, taking out targets quickly and efficiently.
Because of both of your standings, you’d get fewer contracts. They’d be more high profile when you did, but you’d have a fair amount of time off.
You’d both simultaneously be, “guess what I did today?” “we don’t need any more dogs” interchangeably.
To anyone not in the game, you’d look like power couple street fashion goals. Then you two get all cute with your dogs and it’s just the perfect dynamic.
Summary : John asks Y/N, his girlfriend, to spend the night at his house, however, is pleasantly surprised when she tells him she cannot sleep in complete darkness.
A/N : I suck at summaries. Also, if *anyone* wants me to write the love making between John and reader in this fic, I totally will in another one shot, I just didn’t want this to get too long. I imagined this as a sort of sequel to this fic, but you don't have to ❤️ Enjoy!
As John lays out an array of fresh, vibrantly coloured ingredients on the granite kitchen island, Dog sits at his feet, chewing his favourite, brand new chew toy Y/N had gifted him. The sounds of gnawing teeth, his little whines and playful squeaks are audible every now and then. Dog and Y/N had gotten pretty close lately, and that was just the way John wanted it. His two favourite companions, loving each other.
John had fallen in love with Y/N in what felt like the pace of a heartbeat; before he knew it, he was long gone, with her becoming the most important part of his life. The purest, most enjoyable, innocent, most rewarding part of his life. Of course, he was ecstatic to know she felt the same.
Things had been going amazing between them. Each day felt so special, because that’s what love does. It makes each day feel as if a warm, sunny, bright day after a long, unfriendly winter. It was as if constantly having the words on their tongues, for how they felt, but never being able to let them out, because they just weren’t strong enough. Y/N had made John realize how much more he could be, how much more he was worth. She gave him a taste of the good life, the life he dreamt of as a lonely orphan, the life he promised he’d have one day with a family of his own. A family he created, with the woman of his dreams. Undoubtedly, his reveries saw no one else besides Y/N that could possibly fill this void. She truly was the one he’d been longing for. And boy, was she worth the wait.
Tonight, Y/N was coming over for a stay in dinner date. They had been seeing each other regularly, their encounters being the highlights of each of their days. There was something so unique about being with each other that they loved, appreciated. Even when they weren’t physically there, they felt as if their hearts were together. John was normally distant from others, quiet, reserved. It felt nice to be himself, with someone.
Everything felt picture perfect. In fact, all that was left now, was the anticipation of taking their relationship further. John had only dreamt of doing what lovers do with her till now, but day by day, the further their relationship progressed, it seemed as if it was becoming more real. The moment only coming closer. Whenever it was, whenever it would happen, he knew that would be it. That would be the moment he’d fall completely for her, never able to turn back.
~
“Hi!” Y/N beams, as John opens the door for her, the evening sun setting perfectly behind her, the golden hue striking a wavelength of vivacity in her luscious locks.
“Hi, darling.” John smiles, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her in for a soft, tender kiss. She smells of citrus, mint, and flowers, along with something so uniquely known to him. So matchlessly Y/N.
“I missed you,” she smiles against his lips, arms attached around his neck. “What did you do today?” she asks, letting herself in.
“Not much, took Dog to the park, went shopping for groceries, did some lawn work.” He closes the door behind him. “Counted the hours down till I’d get to see you.” He almost sings, holding his arm out for her to use for balance, as she shimmies off her shoes, placing them neatly in the corner beside his.
“Aww.” She grins, placing a kiss to his cheek. She turns to walk towards his kitchen. “And where is my handsome baby boy?” she coos, eyes searching for Dog. He pads away, jogging to her, as she crouches down to give him an abundance of pets. “There he is!” she chuckles, placing kisses on his matted grey head. John’s heart could have burst right then and there, watching them interact.
John takes his place, back at the kitchen counter, getting dinner together. He watches Y/N as she walks up beside him, snaking her arm around one of his, pressing a kiss to his bicep. “Lemme help? I’ll chop.” She says, grabbing a knife, slicing at a stalk of carrots. John smiles and takes place by the stove, stirring and sautéing.
“Music?” John proposes, leaning against the counter.
“Oo yes, Floyd?” she suggests, raising her eyebrows, throwing her hair into a messy bun.
“Hmm, how bout Zeppelin?” he vetoes, tapping his chin.
She frowns, before her eyes light up. “Beatles?” she recommends.
“Beatles it is.” He throws his thumbs up, walking towards his stereo. She watches him walk away, smiling at how lucky she was, to have this man to herself.
~
They eat at the dining table, sat across from each other. John kept just a small, high table dining set. For years, it had been just him alone, quietly getting through lonely nights and meals for one alone. It’s nice to have company at the habitually isolated table.
Their hands hold each other across the table, fingers fiddling with one another every now and then, soft touches and grazes placed on each others skin, soothing rubs ghosting across each others wrists. Quiet laughs flood their intimate conversation, smiles and grins exchanged frequent. Every now and then, John throws a safe piece of food down to Dog, who is munching away at his own food bowl by their feet. This was perfect. Their own, exclusive little family, lost in each other’s company.
Near the end of the meal, John brings a napkin up to his lips, quietly clearing his throat. His grip on Y/N’s hand tightens slightly, her eyes connect with his, noticing the difference. He has something on his mind, she’s begun to read him like the back of her hand. She brings her elbow to rest on the table, her chin taking place leaning on her hand, as she watches John, collecting his thoughts.
“Something wrong, babe?” she asks lightly, brows furrowing.
John lets out a small chuckle, sighing. “No, no. Everything’s perfect. You’re perfect..” his eyes connect with hers, getting lost in those gorgeous, lively orbs of hers. He toys with her hand again, looking down at his plate. “Do you…uh…wanna spend the night? Here?” he proposes, nervous she may decline. “Tonight’s great, and I just uh…I don’t wanna see you go.”
Y/N’s eyes pause in place, no emotion present on her face for a moment. John’s heart began to race rapidly, scared he may have crossed a line too soon. However, when her lips curl into a smile, her grip tightening on his hand as well, he hears her velvety voice chime.
“Sure.”, she smiles, holding his hand tighter, reassuringly.
John feels relief wash over him, sighing. He chuckles a reply. “Wow, awesome. I thought you were going to say no for a second.” He runs his other hand through his hair.
Y/N stares into him, studying each bump, each crevice of his face. His beard is lined perfectly, his skin is aglow, there’s a glint in his eyes, his lips are so exquisitely pink, so kissable. Each part of him was so lovable. He deserved, all the love she could give him.
“John?” she quietly speaks. He looks up to connect their eyes. “I love you. And I trust you. You know that right?”
He looks at her, heart full with admiration. “I know.”
~
After dinner, John hovers over the kitchen sink, rinsing the dishes in a solution of soapy bubbles, Y/N sat on the counter top right beside him, drying the dishes he hands her. Her legs sway around, as they engage in conversation still, sulking in each other’s presence. She playfully hits his side with her leg every now and then, as he stands defenceless, hands covered in soap. With a playful groan, John glares her, his deep voice filling her ears.
“Babe, you better stop that right now.”
She giggles, setting down her wash cloth. “Whatcha gonna do about it, Wick?”
Rinsing off his hands, before moving to stand between her legs, he places his palms on her hips. Wincing, she tries to shake them off. “John! Your hands are wet.” She frowns.
He smirks, eyeing her. “Well, isn’t that inconvenient?”
She scrunches her face, before ultimately giving in. “Okay fine, ya got me. I’m sorry. You’re just so fun to mess with.” She taps his nose, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Am I, huh?” he smiles, eyeing her lips, gently pulling her in closer as she still sits on the counter.
Her petite hands move to ruffle his dusty, dark brown hair, lips curling into a smile. “Yes, because I know you’re never going to say anything back to me.” Dog moves across the kitchen to sit near John’s feet again, as he straddles her standing against the counter. “Of course, besides maybe getting my shirt wet.” She smiles.
She stares at his lips as well, before bringing her eyes to connect his gaze, trapped in hers. Bringing a hand to cup his stubble ridden cheek, she lightly speaks. “You’re a good man, Jonathan.” A muffled giggle escapes her mouth, watching how awestruck his expression turns each time she reminds him. “You take care of me, and Dog. You’re a good, good man.”
John still hadn’t gotten used to hearing those words. No one, in years, for as long as he could remember, had called him anything remotely good. To the world, he was a petrifying, feared, symbol of death. Someone they saw as a monster.
But then there was her. This woman, who saw past all that, saw the human in him. Saw everything he so desperately wanted to be, saw the way he was clawing at the surface for someone to really see him, and everything he ached to be. Sometimes, it only takes one, special person, to fix us.
John never wanted to be a monster. He never was, and she knew that.
Without a thought, John connects his lips with hers, in a searing, adoring kiss. She gladly returns the affection, running her hands through his hair, along his beard, pulling him closer. Pausing momentarily, John connects his forehead with hers, eyes shutting in complete contentment.
This was where he always wanted to be.
She cups his cheek, missing his lips on hers so soon. They kiss again, fingers pulling each other closer, trying to feel more. John breaks away, bringing his hand to hold hers again. Squeezing gently, he almost whispers.
“Can we take this upstairs?”
Nodding, she smiles, feeling his broad, large arms scoop her up, carrying towards the stairs, her legs wrapped securely around his waist. Placing feather light kisses to his temple, his nose, and the corners of his mouth as she pleases the entire journey up to his bedroom, she beams at the way his eyes light up as she does so. The laugh lines crinkle around the corners of his eyes, making him look heavenly.
Placing her softly, gradually on the bed, he watches her lay, allowing him to hover over her. Kissing each inch of the soft, gleaming skin on her face, he reflects to himself, on just how lucky, how excited he was, to finally make love to her. To finally show her how much she meant to him, in the most fragile, sacred way.
He grazes his fingers under the hem of her shirt, softly smoothing over the skin. “Is this okay, sweetheart?” he asks, making sure she was ready for them to be intimate. Something they hadn’t done before.
“Of course, baby. I love you.” She whispers, pulling him in for another passionate kiss. She toys his belt buckle, as his hands explore parts of her body they’d only dreamt of touching, thus far.
~
An hour later, John lays shirtless in bed, with his lover’s head rested on his chest. He’s got an arm around her, holding her close to him. She draws figures and shapes, tracing over his rosy skin. To say it was amazing, would be an understatement. They hadn’t been able to keep their hands to themselves, despite finishing. In comfortable silence, to the sound of the rise and fall of John’s chest, Y/N’s voices.
“John?”
He shifts slightly, moving his head to press a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah, love?”
She feels her heart swell at the sight of him, his skin glistening, heartbeat calm, so naturally beautiful. He was so god damn beautiful. She smiles, unable to form any words for the way she was feeling. She rests her head down again on his chest, feeling him chuckle, embedding a small, gentle kiss in her hair.
John glances at the time piece on the stand. 10:15pm.
“I’ll grab you one of my spare shirts to sleep in?” he proposes, as she sits up, pulling the duvet to cover her shirtless chest. “Thank you.” She replies, still smiling. Watching him get out of the bed, her eyes gloss over his tattoos on his perfectly toned back, slipping on his pants. She follows suit, pulling on her panties, heading to the washroom.
~
Following a quick wash of her face, the water beads spritzing life back into her flushed cheeks, Y/N tucks herself away in John’s bed, as he’s taken Dog out for the final time tonight. She grins to herself still, the memories of what her and John did earlier that evening hazing her mind. The fact that she would be falling asleep next to him tonight, in his arms, only sent more butterflies drifting about in her mid.
She hears Dog run back into the room, padding in a few circles before taking place at the foot of the bed, retiring for the night. John follows not too far behind, smiling as his eyes set on Y/N in his bed, waiting.
“Hey you..” she speaks, voice filled with love.
“Hi,” he beams back, placing Dog’s replenished water bowl when he could see it.
“Come ere, the beds getting cold.” She smiles, her syrupy voice so warm, inviting.
John gladly accepts, switching the lights off by the door, before walking to his side of the bed.
Until he hears Y/N gasp.
“John?” She gulps. Don’t you have a lamp?” he hears in the pitch black room.
“No? Why?”
“I always sleep with light in the room…this is scary.” She murmurs, barely above a whisper.
John chuckles. “Baby, I’m sorry I don’t have a lamp. But I’m here with you, what’s so scary about that?” he expertly navigates his dark room, pulling the covers back to join Y/N in bed, immediately pulling her into his chest. Of course, he felt her startle slightly at the touch.
“I’m not scared of the dark, John. I’m scared of what’s in the dark.” She asserts, in a matter of fact tone.
“Well, only thing in the dark right now is me, babe.” He laughs.
“That’s scary enough.” She teases, trying to bring her hand to his face.
“Hey!” John giggles, securing his grip on her.
“John, I can’t see anything. I don’t like it at all.”
“But we’re going to sleep, darling. You don’t need to see anything.” He articulates, placing a kiss on her forehead.
“John!” She whines, nudging him. He hums in response, his hands soothingly rubbing her back as he holds her. “John, can’t you just leave the bathroom light on?”
He sighs playfully. “Sweetheart, I can’t sleep with lights in the room.”
“What if I wanted to kiss you? I can’t see where your face is.” She proclaims, hands trying to locate his face.
“Hmmm…” John contemplates. She brings her arms to sooth over his biceps. “Pleeeeasseeee babe, I really don’t like it.” She frowns.
John chuckles again, bringing his hand to cup her cheek. “I’m only teasing, darling. Lemme fix it.” He replies, getting out of the bed, switching the bathroom light on for her, Dog’s gaze perking up to the sudden change of hue. As John pads back to the bed, climbing in, Y/N cuddles in close, kissing his chest as his arms engulf her again.
“Better?” he questions, smiling down at her.
“Yes. Thank you.” She buries her face in his chest, breathing in his woody scent.
“My girlfriends scared of the dark.” John smirks, teasing. Y/N light-heartedly nudges him in response. Toying his hand through her hair, he sighs. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?” his voice is barely audible, in the hushed, silent room.
Y/N doesn’t reply right away; she takes a moment to relax, feeling him so close. Barely above a whisper, she finally speaks. “I know.” John grips her tighter, pressing another kiss into her hair.
“How about you start by getting a nightlight for me?” she proposes, giggling. “It could be a dinosaur one, so it doesn’t break your big, manly persona.” She teases, cupping his cheek, pressing a kiss to his chin.
“I suppose. Only if it’s a dinosaur one, though. Can’t have my lady sleeping in the dark again.” He agrees, bringing her smaller hand up to place a kiss to her palm. “You really are adorable, Y/N.”
If making love tonight hadn’t made him fall deeper in love with her, this encounter surely had. He couldn’t wait to learn more about her, be domestic with her. To have her to fall asleep to, just like this, to learn which side of the bed she prefers, when she drifts to dreamland, every single night.
“I love you.” John whispers, a few moments departed. He rubs her back soothingly, calmly again. However, when she doesn’t reply, he gently taps her. When she doesn’t move, he knows she’s fallen into a deep, well deserved slumber. Exhaling, he grins to himself again.
He couldn’t believe this was going to be his life.
With a pull of the duvet higher to tuck her in perfectly, the blanket draped, positioned flawlessly around her, John presses a final kiss to her temple, resting his chin a top of her head.
To the sound of Dog’s gentle snores, complimented effortlessly by the steady rise and fall of Y’N’s chest on him, John prepares to doze off as well, not too far behind. With the moon and it’s starry friends peering through the bedroom window, perfectly peppering the black and blue marbled sky, another wonderful day has bid good bye, with his lover tucked in securely beside him, whisked away in her own fairyland.
He thanks the sky for giving him this life, as his silvery voice whispers.
He was sitting at the bar. Drinking his usual, top shelf bourbon, neat. His hands so large it made the heavy crystal tumbler look small and fragile. “Hey John.” You greeted him as you made yourself comfortable on the stool next to his, settling in, shooting a smile towards Addy as you waited for her to finish serving someone else. John nodded and tipped his drink at you. He wasn’t much for words and that was more of a greeting than he’d give anyone else so you took it. You sipped your wine in silence for a while. Noticing his glass was empty you gently settled your hand on his forearm. “Next one’s on me. If you’d like.” His eyes narrowed slightly, eyebrows furrowed as he stared down at the hand you’d placed on his arm. He finally looked up at you with an unreadable gaze but the corner of his lips lifted in something that resembled the beginning of a smirk. “Sure.” He finally answered. Returning his gaze back to your hand. You squeezed his arm and gestured to Addy for another round before picking up your glass and finishing the last of your wine.
Two drinks became three. Conversation flowed between you rather naturally, if not shockingly well considering John wasn’t exactly known for his chattiness. It felt like there was something between you but that goddamn inscrutable face of his made it difficult to know what. “Fuck it.” You thought. “When would you get another chance?” You reached over and picked up his bourbon, tipped the glass to your lips and took a sip as John watched before he took the drink out of your hand. You smacked your lips. “Dark, smoky, but maybe a little sweet for my taste.” You said. “I would have thought that was exactly your taste.” He challenged. “Bold of you to assume.” You said as you moved your hand to his thigh. He leaned in closer to you, his stubble brushing against your cheek as he spoke into your ear over the din of the bar. “I never assume. I know.” He said. He moved away again and took another sip of his drink. You drained your glass and slid a coin across the bar before you stood up. Your fingers rested lightly on his shoulder as you asked quietly. “Walk me to my room?” He finished the last of his bourbon and settled his hand on your lower back as he stood. Every motion was fluid. Elegant.
“Did you ever dance?” You couldn’t help but ask him as you made your way to the elevator.
“When I was a child. How did you know?”
“The way you move.”
“You’ve got a sharp eye.”
“You need that in this line of work.”
He laughed at that. Suddenly his usually inscrutable expression was a smile. Just for a moment.
“Come in for a drink?” You asked over your shoulder as you twisted the key in the lock.
“I’d like that.” He said.
You caught your bottom lip between your teeth and smiled to yourself as you opened the door. His hand tightened on your hip as you guided him into your room. He spun you to face him, his back against the closed door as his eyes dropped to your lips.
“Would you like that drink?”
“What I’d like---is to kiss you.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” You challenged as you settled your hands on his chest.
He brought his face closer, his lips mere inches away from yours.
“An invitation.” He said.
You slid your hands down his chest and wrapped them around his waist.
“Kiss me.”
A slow grin spread across his face before he closed the rest of the distance between you and his lips to met yours. He brought his arms around you, crushing you against his chest.
"You have no idea how much I want you." He said. He spoke slowly, as if he wasn't entirely sure how you'd respond.
"I know, John. I've known since the bar."
"Really."
"You're not the flirty, aimlessly chatty type." You said as you loosened the knot of his tie. "You're purposeful in word---and hopefully---in deed." You left his undone tie around his neck and unbuttoned his shirt as he gazed a you. His eyes darkened with lust.
He covered your hands with his as you worked to pull the smooth, expensive leather through the buckle.
“Too fast?”
“Over there.” He said, nodding towards the bed.
You smiled demurely and raised an eyebrow before you walked backward, your hands still in his firm, warm grasp.
When the back of your legs hit the mattress he let go and slid his hands inside your velvet blazer, working it off your shoulders. He kissed along the exposed skin of your shoulder, nudging the strap of your silk tank top out of the way with his nose as he nimbly worked open your trousers.
They fell to the floor with a soft thud. Your hands instinctively went to his belt again.
“Can I?”
“Mmhmm.” He murmured as he slid his hands over your silk covered breasts.
Your breath hitched as he teased his thumbs over your nipples.
His pants joined yours on the floor. The belt buckle clinking as it hit the ground.
He nudged you backward onto the bed and hooked his fingers into the band of your lace panties, kneeling as he pulled them off. He looked comfortable there, between your thighs, placing open mouthed kisses closer and closer to where you wanted him to be.
“Wider.” He said.
You obliged and moved so he’d have more room.
He rewarded you with his tongue.
“Fuck.”
“You’re so wet.” He said as he slowly slid a finger inside you.
“You’re so GOOD. Fuck!” Your fingers gripped the duvet tightly.
He untangled your hand and placed it on his head, never lifting his mouth away from your clit.
You tugged his hair and earned a satisfied grunt from him.
He switched to lazily licking your clit before he turned his face up to look at you.
“Do you like to cum before you fuck? Or just get most of the way there?”
You sat up abruptly. He gazed up at you, from between your thighs waiting for your answer--his fingers still inside you.
“I--”
“What?” He asked with a not so innocent smile as he pressed his fingers against the spot that made your legs shake.
“You really are good at everything, aren’t you?”
“Mmm. Not everything.” He said, shaking his head. “I need an answer.”
He pressed his tongue flat against your clit and looked up at you.
“Before.” You gasped.
The corners of his mouth turned up around his tongue as he went back to working you over with his fingers. He would moan softly as you pulled his hair and ground yourself against his face but he never stopped. It was like he was intent on devouring you whole.
You muffled your moans with your hand as you got closer and closer but it barely contained the sound. The pressure built up in your core released and you went rigid. He kept his tongue pressed against you until you lifted his face away from you by pulling his hair.
He sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his face and chest flushed as you struggled to catch your breath.
He balanced himself on the bed as he stood up and leaned down to kiss you. His cock pressed against you as he slid his tongue into your mouth and you both moaned at the feeling of it.
He pulled back and walked over to his jacket. He dug a condom out of his wallet and you made room for him on the bed as he rolled it on.
“You ok with being on top?” He asked in between kisses.
Your brain was still hazy from earlier. “Mmmhmm.” You nodded.
He rolled onto his back and pulled you on top of him. You reached down and gripped him, guiding him to the right spot before you slowly sank down onto his cock.
“Fuck.” You hissed as you accomodated his size. Neither one of you moved for a moment.
“You ok?” He asked considerately and without arrogance. Brushing his large hand over your cheekbone.
His thumb brushed across your lips and you opened your mouth---taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it as you started to move.
His eyes closed and his mouth dropped open slightly. “You feel so good.”
You balanced yourself on his chest as you rocked and moved your hips. He settled his hands on your ass. Digging his fingers into the soft flesh as he guided you up and down. You leaned down and captured his lips with yours. Nearly laying flat on his chest as you pushed yourself back against him. He let go of your hips and held your arms, his feet planted on the bed as he thrust up into you. His pelvic bone brushing against your clit with each deep thrust. You whined against his neck as you came with a gush. “Oh!” He gasped and then sucked in a breath. He kissed you hungrily as his thrusts became harder and faster until he slammed into you one last time and gripped you tightly as he shook a little underneath you.
You pulled off of him and shifted onto your side, tossing your arm around his quickly rising and falling chest.
He turned to look at you silently asking you if it was good---a worn out smile on his face. He looked open, and soft like this. Not like the man everyone else got to see at the bar downstairs.
You let out a little laugh. “Whoever winds up with you will be a very, very lucky person John.”
He turned his face and gazed up at the ceiling.
“Yeah, that’s the part I’m not good at.” He said and when he looked back at you he was the man from the bar downstairs again.
A/n: Thank you guys for all the lovely messages on chapter one of this fic, it means so much to me and so far, I'm having a blast writing this fic. Like I said, this will be a slow burner so don't be expecting too much. I'm also thinking that I will try to get a new chapter out once a week, preferably on Wednesdays and then i'll do my oneshots on a Monday. This way I'm getting fics out at a steady pace and it's not too overwhelming. Obviously there may be times where I miss a day but this is just a general goal. Okay, I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think ❤️.
Masterlist
Y/n ate her dinner as if she thought it was poisoned. Each forkful of food she picked up was smaller than what someone would feed a baby, and even then she would only nibble at it.
It wasn't that she was weren't hungry, in fact it was the opposite - she was starving, She just couldn't bring herself to stomach the food since her mind was racing with so many questions.
'Why did Jay hurt me?' 'we were meant to be together forever?' 'was i not good enough?'
They were only a few of the questions that she thought in a millisecond.
y/n stared blankly at the table in front of her, the voice of her dad and Keanu nothing more than background noise. In fact the second she sat down and the two men started to talk about whatever crossed their minds, y/n completely forgot she was in the presence of them.
However, every so often y/n couldn’t help but look up at keanu who sat adjacent to her and in those moments she completely forgot about Jay, her mind instead filled with wonder and amazement that keanu brought with him.
If y/n was truthful, keanu was breathtakingly handsome but their was no way anything would ever come of it, especially after what she had just been through. Yet, She couldn’t stop thinking about how carefree he looked on the bike, as if he didn't have any issues in the world. She would definitely make a point of asking him to give her a ride and maybe more?. The words crossed her mind so easily and she felt her cheeks heat up slightly
'wait, what am I thinking? This is my dad's friend. Control yourself' y/n shook her head slightly as she tried to push the thoughts aside.
Twisting a strand of spaghetti around her fork, y/n didn't notice when keanu asked her a question, the only response he got was the scraping of her fork against the porcelain of her plate.
Mark scrunched his face up and placed a hand on top of hers, stopping her from playing with her food.
"Hmm?" y/n snapped her eyes up and looked at her dad, the sudden action of him touching her bringing her back to reality and causing her to jump slightly.
"keanu asked what brought you back here sweetie".
The look he gave y/n spoke a thousand words. His soft eyes and reassuring smile translated to 'you don't have to tell him the truth if you don't want to'.
In that instant y/n's face turned pale and her mouth went dry as her lips parted slightly while she searched for the right words to say.
Y/n suddenly became aware of how close they really were, keanu's knees were slightly grazing hers - his limbs too long to fit under the small table they sat at and as she looked up at him, her eyes widened as much as her eyelids could stretch.
Y/n found herself lost in his eyes again, the way they were framed by beautiful thick lashes making they appear mysterious and the artificial light from the dingy light bulb hanging above them made his eyes glow a beautiful golden brown;They were warm, welcoming even and as she stared into them she felt as if he could hear her every thought.
Y/n quickly looked down at her lap as she pulled her thoughts away from keanu and back to the actual reason she was sitting in the dining room of her dad's house. She felt a few tears sting her eyes but she ignored them, quickly wiping them away with the sleeve of her jumper.
"My - uh - boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend and I couldn't be around him so I thought why not come back home for a while" y/n put on a fake smile, trying to hide the pain she felt from her dad. Y/n knew how stressed he got over the smallest of things, making him become restless and anxious so she didn't want to add to the list of things that kept him up at night.
However, as y/n tried to hold the painful smile, her mind went into overdrive as every moment that she had spent crying over Jay flashed before her eyes. The memories crashed down on her, each kiss, each touch feeling like a stab to the heart but instead of breaking down in tears, the memories filled y/n with indignation.
Her fingers curled into fists, her grip on her fork tightening as the burning flames of resentment in her stomach inched up to her chest before finally taking over every inch of her body, the feeling leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
Y/n tried to bite her tongue as she used all her strength to keep the word vomit spilling from her mouth but she could only do so much.
She felt her cheeks turn red with each wave of fury that hit her and with that she threw her fork down, the metal bouncing off her plate and falling to the floor.
Everything went red as she allowed the emotions she was holding in too come out and the words she so desperately wanted to speak fall from her mouth, not caring who was around her to hear.
"I want to kill him. He took my house, my best friend and my life. I mean was i not good enough for him? Was i not pretty enough? Did i spend to much time at uni or at my stupid job just so he could sit on his fat ass and do nothing all day? I did everything right - everything - and still it wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough. Or was it because I didn't let him fuck me yeah maybe that was it".
Realisation of what she had said caused the rest or her words to get caught in her throat.
Y/n looked up at Keanu with glassy eyes, to ashamed to even look at her dad and the way keanu stared at her in bemusement made her regret her sudden outburst.
Keanus eyes were wide as he glanced gingerly over to Mark who sat in shock, his eyes just staring blankly at y/n.
Y/n felt the heat rising to her cheeks and she prayed it wasn’t noticeable. She pushed her hair behind her ears, even though it was already there as she begged for the world to swallow her whole.
Y/n felt Mark's eyes burn the side of her face and she only dropped her gaze to her twiddling thumbs that laid in her lap.
She felt the anger turn to embarrassment before turning to sadness again, tears pulling at her heavy eyelids that were a fraction too slow to blink them away.
Not one of them spoke, each too afraid of the words that might fall from their lips.
Mark only stared at her, his mouth wide open as his brain constructed no thoughts, the only thing going through his mind was shocked. He closed his mouth, looking to the floor as if it would give him the perfect thing to say.
Mark eventually leaned over the table, inching closer to y/n as he moved into her line of sight. He touched her now damp cheek from the few tears that managed to break the barrier with the side of his thumb.
Y/n tilted her head slightly so she could look at his face, his eyes softening as her gaze locked onto his.
This was the first time y/n properly looked at her father since she arrived and she could see that the years had been kind to him. His previously short dirty blonde hair had specks of grey in it and the laughter lines around his eyes were now more prominent than what she remembered - at least he had been happy whilst she was gone. He still had the same tanned skin from all the time he spent sitting out in the sun at the stupid bar down the street and he was still in remarkably good shape for his age. His eyes were still the soft and welcoming brown she remembered but they were now deadly serious as he stared at her.
"I'm sorry. Dad" her voice cracked and she broke the eye contact that they held. Mark chuckled slightly as he grasped onto her hand that still laid in her lap, running his thumb over the top of it before bringing it to his lips, placing a loving kiss to the back of her hand.
"y/n it's okay. I understand. Just don't ponder too much on the past. Okay? you're just emotionally exhausted" he pulled his hand away and crossed his arms, leaning them on the table.
"you need to sleep, rest and then we can make the big decisions once your mind is clear. That's really the best advice I can give you." his voice was deep and warm and y/n knew he was speaking the truth.
Looking up at him with a small smile tugging at her lips, y/n only nodded before quickly wiping at her wet cheeks.
" Excuse me" she spoke timidly as she pushed the chair from under her and as she stood there frozen for what felt like a century but was nothing more than a second, she tired to look anywhere but at keanu.
y/n couldn't bare to look at keanu out of sheer shame but she couldn't stop herself from stealing a quick glance at him just before she moved to leave the dining room.
Her face turned redder than a beetroot, the heat radiating from it hot enough that she was sure that if someone was to crack an egg on it, it would start to cook.
She could tell by the look of mild shock displayed on his face and cheeks that were flushed pink as he stared down at the plate of food in front of him, that she had made him uncomfortable.
'Great' she thought, forcing her heavy legs to move and carry her from the room. 'the first time meeting the poor guy and I scare him with my stupid life story'.
Keanu watched as y/n left and he could tell just from the way she held herself that she was insecure; her shoulders were hunched and footsteps light and timid as she rounded the corner.
Keanu felt angry that y/n felt so belittled, used and torn up and he barely knew the girl yet something in him felt guilty for bringing up the subject and he wanted to apologise. She seemed so innocent, vulnerable even and something about her made him feel protective over her.
Y/n left keanu and Mark in the dining room, neither not quite knowing what to say but as keanu slumped back in his seat, Mark stared off into the distance, lost in his own thoughts.
"I'm going to kill him" his voice was murderous, his grip on the knife he held growing tighter with each second that past and keanu only looked at him with his peripheral vision, scared that the slightest movement would send him into a frenzy.
Marks eyes were filled with rage, an emotion that keanu had never seen on the normally placid man.
Kenau gulped as he slowly turned to face the man full on, raising his own hand to grab onto Marks knife wielding arm and lowered it to the table.
"I don't think that would be in the best interest of anyone. Do you?" marks eyes darted to keanus, anger flashing across them before he let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders suddenly vanishing as he listened to the comforting words of his friends.
"no, you're right". Mark closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair.
"it's just - that comment was so out of character, that's not my y/n. She's normally so happy and kind and that bastard hurt my baby and I want to hurt him" keanu grabbed his shoulder as he saw the anger rising in his friend again.
"and that's understandable but you need to calm down. For y/n at least" keanu clamped his hand down onto Marks shoulder as if he was trying to stop him jumping to his feet and visiting Jay.
"yeah i know. Thanks, keanu. You're a good friend". Keanu removed his hand and sat back in his seat as he smiled.
"I know" the two chuckled, Mark leaning back slightly on his chair as he looked at his friend.
"Do you mind talking to her?" Mark asked without hesitation, causing keanu to choke slightly on his own saliva and cough as he tried to steady himself.
"what? Me?why?" Mark stood and shrugged as he began to clean the table, grabbing his and y/n's plate.
"Yeah. You're good at giving advice. The only thing i keep telling her to do is sleep and it's not the best advice. And you know what - i don't think i can listen to my daughter talk about sex again without wanting to commit a string of murders" mark waggled his finger in the air and keanu laughed as he stood. "plus, I want to make a few phone calls".
Keanu thought about it for a second before sighing.
"sure. But only because it's you" as he pushed his way from the table and past Mark, he tapped his shoulder reassuringly.
"thanks buddy. Her room is upstairs, last door to the right" keanu nodded before following in y/ns steps and leaving the dining room.
As his back turns and his face was hidden from Mark, keanu gulped. Behind his smile, anxiety causes his hands to become wet from sweat. his eyes were blown wide, and his breathing was ragged and harsh. His hands practically trembled at his sides as he slowly made his way down the hall and up the stairs, his mouth going dry as he neared the staircase.
Each step was like agony and once he reached the top, keanu had to stop, closing his eyes as he tried to steady his breathing.
"why am I nervous?" he ran his hand over his face in an attempt to wipe away the anxiety that clawed at him.
Keanu closed his eyes to concentrate and all he saw was y/n. The way she looked so innocent yet damaged and his stomach twisted in knots just thinking about how he so badly wanted to wrap her in his arms and tell her that everything would be ok.
"what am I thinking?" keanu shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside and made his way to her bedroom before anything else could cross his mind.
As keanu neared her bedroom door, the soft glow from y/ns lamp that sat on her bedside table emitted a soft yellow glow and illuminated a small amount of the hallway.
He heard the the way she sniffed away the tears and it caused his heart to break. From what Mark had told him over the years, y/n was kind hearted, often spending her own time doing charity work or volunteering at a homeless shelter out of sheer kindness. Keanu didn't think the world would be cruel enough to break such a kind hearted spirit.
Keanu sighed and walked towards the open door, looking at y/n as she sat hunched over on the floor, her back leaning against the bed.
Her fists were clenched tightly, her nails digging into the palms of her hand hard enough to leave crescent shaped indents but she didn't take note of the pain.
The only thing she really concentrated on was the sound of her heart beating against her rib cage with so much force that she was sure it would leap from her chest at any given moment.
Keanu sighed as he watched the girl in front of him and so he gently knocked on the door frame to announce his arrival.
Y/n looked up at him with red puffy eyes, quickly wiping the tears away and replacing it with another fake smile, but it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared.
Keanu offered her a genuine smile as he leaned against the door.
"can I come in?" his voice was low and calming, y/n instantly melting as his deep voice filled her ears.
She nodded and pulled her knees up to her chest as keanu entered the room. He looked around at her room and as much as he wanted to stop and admire all the pictures that hung on the walls just so he could get a glimpse into her life, he knew he had more important issues on the agenda.
Keanu approached with caution, as if y/n was a skittish cat who would run and hide at any sudden noise.
He moved to her side and slowly lowered himself to the ground, sitting only a few centimetres away from her, his arm skimming against hers gently.
Y/n felt her cheeks heat up at the close proximity, the smell of his aftershave gracing her nostrils with its musky scent that reminded oddly of the inside of a bookstore she used to visit when she lived there.
She turned her head to the side and watched as he looked around at her room, a comfortable silence falling over them and y/n felt herself relax at the comforting aura he gave off.
"you have a nice room" his voice broke the silence as he looked down at her. Even Though they were both sitting, keanu still managed to tower over her.
"Thanks. Did - uh - did my dad send you to talk to me?" keanu raised his hands and nodded.
"Guilty as charged but I also wanted to apologise for bringing up the subject so I’m sorry" keanu let out a chuckle from deep inside his chest, his smile causing his eyes squint and y/n couldn't help but mimic his grin- it was contagious.
“It’s okay, really”
She folded her arms and arched her eyebrows as she waited for him to continue speaking and keanu leaned his head back so it rested on the bed behind him. she could tell he was deep in thought, thinking deeply of the perfect words to say and after a few seconds he turned to face her.
"look, your dad cares about you a lot and he will always be there for you, and if you ever need to talk to someone other than him, I'm more than willing to listen."
he paused for a second before continuing.
"It will hurt for a while but just take it one day at a time. When you're alone, there may be a never-ending film that plays on repeat in your mind of your relationship, all the good memories as well as the bad, especially at night but just you getting out of bed the next morning is a massive accomplishment. you just have to take it hour by hour and day by day. It may take you only a week or 6 months and there’s nothing wrong with that."
Y/n stared at him, the tears burning her eyes again as she took in his words.
"I just feel like I've lost all hope you know? I feel like i did everything that the perfect girlfriend should do and it wasn't enough" she sniffled again and keanu suddenly sat straight, turning to face her full on.
"No" he snapped "don't give up hope. Okay, so it didn’t work out the way you wanted it to and yes, it sucks balls, but use this time to focus on you, reflect on what you want out of a relationship in the future. No relationship is perfect, there will always be flaws and things that have to be worked on and you will have to compromise on a lot of shit, but just keep pushing forward and eventually you will find the one. Instead of thinking of this as the end of the world type of scenario, think of it a lesson well learned. At least you now know what you want and what you're willing to fight for with your next boyfriend."
Y/n was taken back, never before had someone been so honest with her and yet, as she stared at him in awe of his words, she could tell he spoke from experience.
" Well, If that isn’t the most honest thing that someone has ever told me, I don’t know what is".
She laughed slightly as she rubbed her face. The tears had died down again, for how long they would hold back she didn't know, but at least for now she felt some sort of comfort.
A comfortable silence fell between them as they both stared into each others eyes as if they could see the swirling vortex of each others souls.
There was a static in the air, a type of electrical charge that neither of them could explain but both felt. It was as if they had known each other for years despite meeting only hours ago and y/n felt herself relax more in those 5 minutes with keanu than she did in the 2 year relationship with Jay.
"Y/n, there is nothing wrong with you. From what I have heard from your father, you are smart, funny and I can see that you are a beautiful young lady. You are worthy of being loved and treated with respect. You do deserve it. Yeah, It can be hard to look in the mirror and not notice your 'flaws', making you wonder if they were the things that drove him to cheat on you, but your flaws are what make you human, what make you beautiful and if he couldn’t see the beauty in your flaws then you’re better off without him"
Keanu watched as her cheeks turned red, the colour of roses, almost, but not quite as stunning. Her blossoming smile grew wider with each passing second and her eyes sparkled in a way that only deep happiness could bring.
"You're just being nice" y/n looked down shyly and brought her legs to her chest again, hiding her face behind her knees.
"I never lie, y/n" his voice was serious and y/n gulped at the serious tone in him voice as well as the stern look he held.
Y/n stared at him blankly, his words were filled with so much kindness and concern that she didn't quite know how to reply, especially since they were just a part of who he was and as y/n stared at him in awe, she couldn't help but feel as if his genuineness was the most attractive feature she had seen in a man in well, ever.
Keanu's confused expression was reflected in his unmoving eyes that bore down on y/n who just stared at him, not making any noise.
"y/n?" his voice snapped her out of her dazed, causing her to shake her head in an attempt to get rid of the heat she started to feel in her chest. "Sorry, uhhh thank you, keanu for this. It really meant alot to me".
"look, how about I take you out for a drink sometime? Just so you can get all of this out of your system but please just don't spend the whole time sobbing over your drink" he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, not quite believing what he had just asked her.
Y/ns eyes widened at the sudden offer as a million thoughts rushed around in her mind.
'is this a date? Oh god, it is. No wait he's probably just being kind? Why would he want to go on a date with me? Right, shut up y/n. It's not a date, it's just a polite offer"
Y/n jumped to her feet quickly and rushed towards the bedroom door as she encouraged him to leave.
Don't get her wrong, she had enjoyed his company and his wise wisdom made her feel better about her situation, but for some reason she couldn't stand the electrical charge that swarmed around them and the added offer of drinks only made it worse.
Keanu slowly stood from the floor and made his way out of the door.
"It's no problem really. The offer for the drink still stands if you're interested".
Y/n nodded quickly just wanting him to be gone
"I'll think about it" she quickly muttered as he left and the second he was out of her room, y/n slammed the door shut in his face.
Keanu stood outside her bedroom in the dark hallway, not quite understanding what had just happened. Everything was going fine and then she just wanted him gone.
Keanu felt as if he had stepped over a boundary but for his own sake he shrugged off her dismissive behaviour as nothing more than her being upset before he slowly made his way back downstairs, ready to tell mark about his successful mission.
The second y/n closed the door, she pushed her back to the cold wood and listened to his fading footsteps as he made his way down the hall and downstairs.
"Oh God, please" she begged "give me a break"
TBC
______
Taglist (Just ask to be added to either a permanent taglist or to tagged in only this fic ❤️)
Soft music played in the background but John wasn’t really paying it any attention. He was sitting at the bar, which was mostly empty, nursing a bourbon, staring at his reflection in the glass shelf behind the counter. He had looked better, but that was before....These days he looked worn, tired, sad, a ghost of himself. A ghost of the man she left.
John could barely fathom it, the more he told himself that he had to accept that Y/n had walked out on him, the harder it was to move on. He had tried everything, right down to convincing himself that she never loved him. If she did she would still be there. It had been almost seven months, and still nothing worked. He downed the rest of his drink and ordered another, this time her favorite whiskey from the top shelf. She had always been a woman of exquisite taste.
The sound of heels clicking against the tiles disturbed the silence. Another day drinker. Then it hit him, like a train, or a bullet or however sudden realizations came. The smell was familiar, even if it was clouded by the smell of expensive cigars and alcohol, it was easy to recognize. Like summers in Paris.
John turned in the bar stool, just in time to see her taking a seat and few stools away. She hadn’t noticed him, and the bartender came up to her. She whispered, but he knew exactly what she was ordering. Not the whiskey from the top shelf. He could tell from the small, fresh cuts peeking out of the slit of her red silk dress, her split lip and bruise near her eye that she had recently returned from a job, maybe only a few hours ago. Ergo, she would have what she usually had after work, cognac. As the bartender walked past him, John stopped him, and told him to put Y/n’s drink on his tab instead of her own. She had left for a reason and even if it would be in poor, alcohol induced judgement, he was going to find out what that reason was.
Crossing the space between them, John took a seat next to Y/n as the glass was placed in front of her. Her body stiffened and it took a minute before she turned to meet his gaze, “John,” Her voice cold, void of emotion.
“Y/n,” He shifted, regarding her through blurry eyes, did she really not care? He wished he could reach out and touch her, brush the stray strand away from her face the way he used to. “How have you been?”
“Fine.” Was all she managed, fearing that any more words would cause her to cave and admit how miserable had been over the months gone by. “You?”
John sipped his drink, swallowing tightly, “Fine.” This was going to be harder than he initially thought. “Do you come here often?”
Here Italy, or here in this bar? That was a weird question she thought. Perhaps he was as nervous as she was. “Not really. Work.”
He nodded stiffly, and she started at the amber liquid in her glass, tempted to drink it all at once and then threaten the bartender into selling her the bottle. “So...” The word lingered on her tongue and Y/n instantly regretted saying it, especially since she had nothing to follow it.
“Why did you do it?” The words tumbled out of John’s mouth and Y/n could only assume that by ‘it’ he meant leave.
Y/n opened her mouth to explain but the words wouldn’t come. “I....” She squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her jaw, “I....was scared.” Three words could hardly come close to the explanation that John deserved, but it was all she could offer, along with a couple others; “I’m sorry.” Unable to stand the situation any longer, she slid off the stool, placed a gold coin on the bar counter and stalked, or rather walked very quickly, off, leaving John no better than he was before.
Y/n knew for a fact that that John was still in Italy, so why wasn’t he in his room? After she had stormed out of the bar two days ago, Y/n had done everything in her power to avoid John. That was, until she realized that she had waited months for a just like that one. And she had thrown it away.
So now, Y/n was trying to create another of those moments. The only problem being that John wasn’t in his room. Thus, in actuality she was just standing outside his door, in true creeper style. If he was ignoring her, he’d have to come out eventually and if he was out then he’d come back eventually.
John stumbled towards the elevator, not even bothering to check with reception. He should have gone and requested the doctor, but he didn’t. Clutching his bleeding side with one hand, he used the other to punch in the floor number. Afterwards, he leaned against the cool metal wall, closing his eyes as the elevator surged upwards. The job was a success except for the part where the dead drug lord’s dozens of bodyguards came after him. Thankfully, they were all dead now.
The trek to his room felt longer than he remembered. When he got there, fishing the key out of his pocket, John told himself that he had to be hallucinating. Maybe it was the adrenaline high that he was coming down from. Or probably from the blood loss. Y/n was sitting on the floor, leaned against the door. At the first sight of him, she rose to her feet and rushed over to him, “Fuck, John. What the hell happened?”
Y/n brought his arm around her, encouraging him to lean on her for support. She looped one arm sound his waist and used to other to take the key and unlock the door. John wanted to be mad, to shove her off, but it had been so long since he felt her touch that he didn’t protest. “Just work,” He grumbled as an explanation.
She helped him sit on the bed and then hurried of into the bathroom in search medical supplies. “Is the doctor coming?” Y/n called, receiving a gruff ‘no’ in response. She emerged a short while later with a first aid kit and a small silver basin with water. Taking a seat next to him on the bed, Y/n couldn’t help the worry etched plainly on her face. She hated seeing him like this and for a minute she wondered how many other times he had returned from a job without someone to take care him. Sure, doctors were great, but it was nothing compared to the tender care of someone who cherished your life as much as their own.
Shaking the saddening thoughts away, Y/n helped John out of his shirt, hissing when she saw the bleeding wound at his side. After cleaning it with a damp cloth and some antiseptic, Y/n got to work on stitching it closed as gently as possible. When she was finished, Y/n moved on to tending to less severe cuts when John broke the silence, “ Why are you doing this?” Y/n looked up at him and her questioned further, “Why are you here Y/n?”
Her voice quivered when she answered and instead of baring her should like she previously intended, she let her walls go up, “I told you the other day. Work.”
“You know what I mean.” He grabbed her hands, his grip loose but still firm, “Y/n, what are you doing here?”
Sighing, Y/n looked at John’s calloused fingers wrapped around her slender wrists, remembering what it was like to hold his hand, intertwine her fingers with his. “I...wanted to talk.”
John let his hands slip of her wrists as he took the off chance of holding her hands, as he threaded further, “About?”
“Everything. The reason I left and why I’ve been regretting ever since.” Y/n held on to John’s hands as tears trickled down her cheeks, “I’m so sorry. And I know that I have no right to your forgiveness, but I do love you, and I do miss you. So if you co-” Her words were cut of when John pulled her up, his lips crashing to hers in a needy passionate kiss.
They kissed, her hands travelled to grasp fistfuls of his hair and John’s hands gripped her waist. They broke for a breath and he finally said, “Talk.”
Without missing a beat, “Leaving you was a mistake. I should have worked it out, confronted my fear of commitment and intimacy instead of bailing on you when we started build something real.” Y/n let out a deep breath plopping back on to the bed, their thighs still brushing, “We were going great. And everything I felt was real, I loved you and I still do.”
“And somehow that's a bad thing?” John’s eyebrows furrowed together, confused. “ You love me so you left?”
“Yeah,” Y/n shook her head, preferring to stare at the sheets as opposed to his face, “I’ve never been good at...being with someone. We were so in love, I thought that the more in love I fell with you, the weaker I would be.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, “I thought what we had was too good to be true, because people like us, we don't get that, we don’t get the happy ending or the picket fences or any of that. John, I don’t even know if I want that. But the minute I left, maybe even before that, I knew that I wanted you.”
Using his finger tips, John gently urged Y/n’s face upwards, “Do you still believe that? That people like us can’t fall in love?” His face searched hers for an answer.
Letting her hands fall to the bed with a muffled thud, “I don’t know.” A disappointed John turned his face away, staring at the wall so Y/n wouldn’t have to see the hurt look on his face. She reached to place a tentative touch on his thigh, “But I do know that I want to try. I know that right now, and for a while now, that I've loved you.” Turning back to her, John interlaced his fingers with Y/s’ and she offered him a cautious smile, “I don’t know how things will be tomorrow or a few years from now, but I know how I feel. Leaving was a mistake John, and I want to fix it. If you do.”
John moved his hand to tangle it in her hair. Their forehead pressed together, “I’ve missed you so much Y/n.”
Drawing him to her, she pressed her lips to his, in a softer, slower kiss. “I’ve missed you too John.” Y/n’s words were a whisper against John’s lips, between, short, sweet kisses. Gently, Y/n pushed on John’s shoulders, encouraging him to lay back on the bed. With her legs on either side of him, she leaned down, “I promise that no matter what happens between us, I wont ever leave like that again.” And with that, neither of them ever had the reason to leave again.
The end!
A/N- I really had no idea on how to end it there but I hope this sufficed
Summary: A late night at some trashy bar gets John a whole lot more than he bargained for but he’ll have to put on a fight just to keep it.
Read Part One.
His hands are gripping the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. Your skirt is riding up from where you sit on the passenger’s seat but you’re too busy gazing outside the window to notice.
He wishes you would say something, anything to relieve him from this torture. Anything to make him forget about the fact that what he wants lies only inches away from his reach. All he has to do is spread his arm and...
“This is a nice ride you have.”
Good God, you’re killing him with that smile.
“Oldie but goodie, huh?” he catches you winking and bites down a sigh.
You’re enjoying this.
He grunts a ‘thank you’ or at least he thinks he does before his eyes are back on the road in hopes of not killing you both today.
“You get in cars with strangers often?”
He’s not quite sure what came over him, but the need to ask was almost as big as the need to touch you right now.
You smile again, extending your hand for him to take and he quickly picks up on your offer. John’s palm envelopes yours, large and warm and sweaty enough to make you realize the effect you have on him. Your smile widens.
“The name is Y/N.”
His response comes with a clearing of his throat as if to ground himself in the moment, “John.”
You settle back on the seat with a grin on your face.
“See? No such thing as strangers anymore.”
He laughs, as to why he’s not so sure. Maybe it’s your attitude or maybe self-pity once he realizes how deep in the shit he really is. You overwhelm him.
It’s five am and no diner’s serving breakfast, of course. You settle for burgers and he thinks that’s good enough as long as you’re sitting right across him in the small faux leather-clad booth.
The food arrives in little time, filling both of your senses with the scent. John’s eyes never leave you but you seem entirely invested in the little basket that’s placed in front of you.
You feel his stare and decide to have your fun with him.
Your leg grazes against his, softly at first; barely there. Yet he feels it. It’s like electricity rushing through his body and his onyx eyes twitch.
You can’t help but smile in triumph.
“Split the fries?”
He nods and you quickly grab one to place in his mouth, lightly grazing his facial hair before moving your hand away. He happily munches on them and you take the opportunity to stuff one into your own mouth, only halfway in.
John’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and he gapes at the expectant look you’re giving him, the way your lips pout for him to understand. Then your face inches closer to his and the message is clear.
Split them.
He groans and glares at the look you’re giving him; wide eyes and pouty lips driving him mad. “You’re impossible…”
His teeth sink into the soft flesh of the fry, merely inches away from your mouth and he quickly moves back to his seat like he’s Icarus and flying too close to the sun. The grin that pulls at your lips reminds him of a Cheshire cat. You wipe the bit of stray ketchup around your mouth, licking your finger clean.
John’s heart ceases its beat right then. He’s just meat and bones now, simply sitting there as the rest of your meal continues in silence. Your leg is still touching his. Your soft lips peck his own with every fry that you ‘share’ and all he does is gape at you in fear of this incredulous power you possess over him.
The fog inside his brain only clears up when your back hits the door of his house and he can feel your thighs around him, your mouth molding with his own. The weight of your body is nothing when carrying you to his room but there’s a sense of relief overwhelming him when he finally gets to lay you on the bed and he realizes that you’re still very much here, that this is not just a dream.
In the room that is twilight and shadow and sterile white surrounding you everywhere, your bodies are glued together, close enough to breathe the same air… relish in each other’s scent. He feels your hand in his hair. Oh, how you love the softness of it; dark locks tangling themselves between your fingers.
Then your hand is down his cheekbones, tracing the well-groomed beard down to his lips. He watches you in utter admiration, a mortal man paying homage to the goddess Venus herself. His mind’s enslaver.
You kiss him, long and sweet and rid him of all inhibitions. He’s yours for tonight.
A laugh breaks John out of his reverie and he cracks an eye open, stealing a glance at the disheveled you. Your gleaming eyes are focused on the hindrance that his jeans are. You want them off.
“Too many clothes…” you whimper, lips grazing his earlobe in a way that makes him shudder.
He nods in what you can only describe as desperation, making the mattress bounce softly as he lifts himself from the bed enough to fumble with the material on his legs that’s now beginning to itch the longer it restricts him. Soon enough, all his clothes are a mess on the floor as they should be and you beckon him back into your open arms, eager to rid your own clothes.
John watches a delicate hand wrap in the material of your V-neck, pulling it down enough to give him a heart attack when his gaze falls to your breasts; contained within a lacy bra and eager to be touched by his hands, his mouth.
He aches.
“You gonna help me take this off or should I just help myself?”
He growls, low and dangerous and you almost shudder at how lovely he sounds. You do shudder though when his hands come in contact with the soft skin on your stomach and slowly tug the shirt off, taking in your scent that clings there. His mouth is surprisingly soft while trailing a path to your breasts. You work on your bra while he does and his hand squeezes yours as a ‘thank you’.
He doesn’t want to waste another moment.
Your skirt follows and you feel your back arch in anticipation, knowing where John’s hands will soon reach. His fingers slide over the tiny piece of fabric that your underwear consists of and your head rocks back against the pillow as they do, the first moan escaping your lips.
He drinks that sound in, he does. Suddenly, all that’s important is making you do it again and again till you’re begging him to stop and all that’s heard inside the room are the sounds that you’re making.
He yanks the lacy barrier off and you moan again, this time louder. His eyes darken impossibly so at the heavenly sound that seems to linger on your lips. They’re more sweet-sounding than your laugh, something seemingly impossible but he swears that it’s true.
Your hands wrap around his biceps, feeling the beautiful muscles up there and pulling him closer on top of your body. There’s no space to be left between your aching selves and he accepts it, feeds off it. His finger hesitantly grazes where your burning heat rests and he thinks he hasn’t done this in forever.
He only hopes you can’t tell.
Yet you seize his movements, grabbing his hand and kissing the palm like it’s something sacred. John wants to laugh at the irony of that; those hands have killed and hurt and injured countless. It doesn’t matter when they’re touching you, of course. It almost feels like a cleansing of sorts, like redemption.
“Fuck foreplay?” his voice comes out in a grunt. He’s falling apart right in front of you and it’s hard not to bloody enjoy it.
You laugh, breathless as you are and all undone under his body, “Fuck foreplay.”
He fills you and it’s deliciously slow… until it’s not. The heels of your feet seem to dig in his behind with every thrust he gives but he doesn’t mind it. He couldn’t, not when he’s being so consumed by all that’s you.
Again and again, you squeeze around him and he grunts. He’s fucking losing it.
All he can hear is the wonderful sound of skin slapping together and soft mutters of ‘John!’ that fall from your lips. His thrusts are becoming sloppier and he’s long lost his pace but you don’t seem to mind it. You’re both impossibly close to the edge.
When it comes, it’s like electricity shooting through his body. With a single, final thrust John buries himself in you, whispering something into your neck. Still, his fingers move vigorously to please you and it’s not long until you join him.
With panting breaths and still wandering hands, the fog in both of your visions starts to disperse. You hold each other through it, allowing your bodies to mold together in the late of the night – or rather, early morning.
John doesn’t take his eyes off you once until you’re succumbing to sleep and he follows you then, albeit hesitant.
He’s fucking terrified you’ll disappear from his side should he dare to close his eyes for more than a moment, but the prospect of sleep is almost as seductive as you and he gives in for the second time tonight.
True to his thoughts, you’re gone with the first morning light.
