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human fem!reader x vampire!john wick. Part 4/6? im sorry it keeps getting longer. pics stolen from pinterest 🏴‍☠️ yarrrr! divider credit 2900 words. // warnings? blood, violence, sex, MDNI, nsfw. Part 1/map

IV.

The violence that ensues is nothing less than extraordinary. The guy in the hoodie must be more than human, but less than vampire. He tries to even that playing field with a gun, but John takes it from him with a twist of his wrist, throwing it in the water. There is a blur of kicks and blows that make you wince. In the end it becomes a one sided knife fight, the blade flashing silver in the street light. John stays ahead of it, but barely, and you scream as he takes a slash across his ribcage. But before you can do something stupid, like try to rush in to help, someone grabs you from behind.

#john wick #john wick x reader #x reader #john wick vampire au #vampire wick #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #john wick x you #blood mistress fic #keanuverse #keanu characters

I decided I was finally trying to write this little story that's been in my mind for years. So yeah that's my first try at writing a John Wick x reader ✨️ (and my first try at fanfic ever, actually).

It will probably be sweet and short (just like me). Also English is not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistake or any choice of words that may look weird to a native speaker, etc etc you know the drill. This chapter is a mix of fully written text and bullet points.

Set after the events of the last Wick movie, my man is alive and thriving in Paris, please leave him alone okkk he deserves some peace and quiet 😤

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You can listen to Mr Tout Le Monde - My Lover

Chapter 1

The first time you see him, you are surrounded by a crowd of oblivious tourists massed at the feet of the Sacré Coeur. Of course you notice him: how could you not ? You are in the middle of your favourite past-time - people-watching, sitting on the stairs that lead to the basilisk, a book in your hand but your eyes on the multiple scenes unfolding in front you: a group of Japanese tour-goers and their guide, taking pictures before rapidly moving on, on a strictly timed sight-seeing schedule; the very much in-love couple taking selfies (sometimes you envy them, sometimes you hate them, and you are very much aware that you are getting bitter, thank you very much), and who is about to become the perfect target for the hawkers trying to sell lockers; the loud group of young people chatting in a language you don’t recognize but sounds musical to your ears; the musicians trying to make a bit of money singing famous tones and ballads (when they don’t go for the obvious choice of La Vie En Rose, they like to go for Wonderwall).

So yes, of course, you notice him. He’s alone, just like you. But that’s not what catches your eye. There is no need to try and deny it, you are shallow like that. You only see his back and his profile, as he is gazing at the basilisk above him, seemingly lost in his thoughts, but what you see is enough to experience an immediate brain freeze. That is one fine specimen of a man, and you kind of consider yourself an expert on that kind of things. As if sensing you gaze on him, he turns his head slightly and you meet his eyes.

Blushing at having been caught gawking, you quickly put your head down, pretending to read the book in your hand. Something about a guy living in a cabin in the woods in Montana for a whole winter. When you gather your inner strength and raise your head again to look at where the man was, the spot is empty, and strangely you feel disappointed. You wait for a few minutes, trying to get back to your reading, but you are no longer in the mood for being engulfed by the multitude of people swarming around you, and when one noisy group rudely stand up centimeters from where you are sit, blocking the meagre ray of sunshine from reaching your face, and blocking your view, you decide you have had enough contact with the world for today. On your way back home, you stop at the dog park and watch happy energetic dogs run around and play together, as their owners small-talk. This is like Disneyland for the tourists who always take pictures as if they were at an amusement park, and you wonder if the dog owners are aware that they probably end up on Instagram every single day, in some stranger’s post. But then, maybe that’s why they are all nicely dressed, in this very effortlessly looking and yet meticulously chosen style only found in Paris.

You usually take a walk to Montmartre once a week; it’s a nice walk from your place, slightly going uphill, and it helps you clear your mind. But you have to confess that since seeing that man, you end up walking there a bit more than usual, sitting on the same spot on the stairs, even if you don’t really know what you’re hoping for. It’s not as if you were the type to go to a stranger and chat him up. No, you are the quiet daydreaming type.

Of course, you don’t see him there in the weeks leading up to November – why would you? There are literally millions of people living in the city, without mentioning the insane amount of tourists, and the chance of ever seeing him again are close to zero. You live in the same street as your best friend and yet you never randomly cross each other. And after that, it’s too rainy and damp for you to even consider walking outside for longer than ten minutes. You prefer retreating to a new coffee place that just opened, one with a warm atmosphere and filled with growing plants and that sells the best chocolate-chips cookies you have ever had. So, when one snowy December day, the door opens and you see him walking to the counter, you think Christmas has probably come early this year.

You watch him as he talks quietly to the barista, in a voice too low for you to hear. The barista gestures in your general direction, and the man turns to look at you, his eyes catching yours. He walks up to you, and you feel like everyone can hear your heart beating up in your chest at two hundred beats per minute. He sits at the table next to yours, and you try very hard to remember how to breathe and act naturally.

You would like to start a conversation with him, but you are unable to think of anything smart to say. And it’s not as if Parisians love to start small talk – it’s just not something you do. But to your surprise, he’s the one who starts a conversation with you, and he asks you about your drink.

You are having your favourite, a latte with a vanilla homemade syrop, something that always warms you up and make you feel good. You mumble an answer, feeling sweaty and too awkward to be speaking to this man, wondering how on earth he is even ackowledging your existence.

"I actually never had a latte", he goes on, seemingly oblivious to your state of panic "I’m more of an espresso type of guy, and I usually don’t like changing my routines. But I’m feeling adventurous today, so maybe I’ll have one later. I’m John, by the way.”

You can feel him looking at you, and you know that you have to be brave and normal, and that him giving you his name is a cue for you to now give yours, so after taking one last big breath, you gather the strength and meet his eyes. They are a beautiful shade of dark brown, and it’s almost enough to make you lose all your newly fond bravery. But you manage to give him your name.

He gestures to the papers piled in front of you and asks what you’re working on.

“Oh. Hm. Nothing much. I was trying to read and understand a paper about meaning and form. It’s by a linguist, a guy called Bolinger. He wrote it in the 1970s and well, it’s not always super clear you know. I’m having a hard time grasping my mind around it.”

You are rambling. You are rambling way too much and you’re sure that you are making the poor guy uncomfortable and that he is already regretting his decision by now. But he doesn’t seem to mind, and he even looks interested in what you have to say, because he asks a bunch of follow-up questions. You go on for a little while, sharing with him all your qualms about old authors from the previous century who wrote articles only for the sake of feeling smart. When you finally run out of breath, he pitches in:

‘Are you ... a student, then ?’. He seems a bit uncomfortable suddenly.

“Well, no. I’m doing a PhD. Third year. I don’t have classes anymore. Actually, I’m the one teaching now. I still don’t know how I managed to get the job. So hm. Yeah. I sometimes come and read in this café. I like the atmosphere, I feel like it helps me get in the right mood to read all these papers, and the cookies are exceptional.” You stop yourself before you get on another rant, and fix your eyes on the small pothos on the table. Much safer to just stare at it until he leaves.

The waiter sets up on his table a steaming coffee cup and a cookie straight out of the oven. John wraps his right hand around the cup, and you cannot help but notice how freaking long and beautiful his fingers are, and you have a fleeting thought about how you wish they were wrapped around something else. Girl. Get a grip, really.

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Author's note : in France, PhD students are ... not students ! They are part-time teachers or have side jobs, but they are no longer students. You can imagine whatever age you're confortable with, but I did not want reader to be considered too young. Age-gap is fun, grooming is not lol.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #fanfic

A Tortured heart.

A John Wick X Mute! Fem Reader.

Words:4592

Warnings : mentions kidnapping torture and trauma and injuries and movie levels of violence and etc. set during the second John wick movie

Notes requested by @nonscathingbullets

I’m so so sorry it took me forever to get this posted! First it was my neck injury then real life things kept popping up. But I hope I did okay.

Please ignore any mistakes or errors.

The music isn’t necessary but it helps the dramatics.

🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶

Simple has never been in John’s vocabulary.

Nothing he did was ever simple.

And the job for the evening wasn’t simple but it was easy.

He had already taken out half of his targets.

The scent of Blood and Gunpowder filled the air.

He already took out more than half of the targets and he was about to call it quits when he finished the last man off when he heard noise from across the hall.

Like someone begging for help.

Once inside the room down the narrow hallway it was completely empty it was evident by the seam in the wallpaper towards the back of the room that It was a fake.

“Clever yet idiotic.” He thought as he easily pulled the wallpaper down with the knife in hand.

He saw a group of people looking just as shocked to see him as he was.

A woman was chained up to a wall beat and broken from head to toe her ankle was broken in such a way it made him feel sick. Her clothes were nothing but tattered remains of a dress.

It was hard to believe she was still alive; it was obvious she was being tortured.

God knows how long she’d been there.

She looked terrified either of him or her captors.

“What kind of sick bastards do this to another person?” He thought before he quickly made up his mind on what to do with them.

He didn’t leave a single one alive.

He wouldn’t dare.

Not while he was still alive.

He noticed one guy was crawling off clearly injured from the fight.

He put a bullet in the man’s head.

And since his clip was empty he threw it at his corpse out of disgust.

“Those bullets were expensive.” He said as he walked back to the room where the woman was being held.

She immediately began to panic.

“Hey I’m not going to hurt you.” He said to her as he looked around for the key to her shackles and found it on one of the dead men.

“Don’t worry, you're safe now and the ones who did this are dead.”

She flinched when he went to unlock the shackles as he gently helped her down, being cautious of her injuries.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He repeated again more gently

He knew he’d have to walk her back through the mess of the main room and the hallway but he knew she needed medical treatment as soon as he could get her to the Continental.

But he also didn’t want to traumatize her anymore than she already was.

“You don’t want to see what is behind the door, can you walk?” He knew it was a dumb question with her ankle like that.

She shook her head no.

“Well I guess I’m going to have to carry you out okay? Which is going to hurt like hell but it’s the only way to get you out of here is that what you want?” John said in his usual monotone voice

She nodded and John easily picked her up bridal style.

“Keep your eyes closed and don’t open them until I tell you too.” He instructed as he carried her

He hated how light she was.

And how every step he took made her whimper in pain from the injuries.

“I’m sorry.” He said genuinely as

He walked to his waiting car.

She had passed out from the pain and shock by then.

He made it to the Continental in record time.

He carried her inside.

“Oh you’re with a woman tonight Mr.Wick?” Charon said slightly amused

“I need the doctor as soon as possible and a spare room.” John said plainly but urgently

“Right away Mr.Wick.”

Once he was in the elevator up to his room he looked at the woman who was in his arms with worry.

There wasn’t a single part of her that wasn’t bruised or cut up; she had burns and scars on her arms and her legs.

But he didn’t have long to think before he was walking out of the elevator where the doctor was waiting by his room.

“Jesus Christ what happened to her?” He said as he opened the door for John.

“I found her chained up in a back room like a goddamn dog.” John said angrily but not at anyone in the room but at the idea of someone being treated that way.

It made him want to find out more about the situation and then slaughter everyone involved in hurting her if he hadn’t already.

John stepped out of the room to let the Doctor do his job and to give the woman her privacy.

After what felt like hours the doctor called him back into the room.

“I’ve worked here for over two decades and I’ve never seen someone beaten like this. It’s a miracle she is even alive. I gave her some pain medicine and treated her as best I could. But I think with time she should be fine once the surgeon treats her ankle but psychologically? Time will tell some people like yourself snap back to it like rubber bands; others will need someone to help them.” The doctor said as he packed up his things

“Thank you for everything but why did you say that like you meant me?” John asked as he walked the doctor to the door

“Because you know what torture is like no? Loosing your wife and your dog it was torture was it not?”

“She’s broken and beaten, there is a difference in her pain and mine.” John said without any emotion in his voice.

“Just think about it.” The doctor said before leaving the room.

John walked back into the room where the woman was resting.

The memories of Helen when she was sick flooded his mind.

He hated it.

The woman lying in bed injured shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t be here.

Helen and Daisy should still be here.

Alive and happy.

he should still be retired.

he never should’ve picked another weapon in his life.

The Blood running through his hands should have turned to water by now.

But fate is cruelly ironic sometimes.

But had that happened the injured woman would have died chained up alone.

The thought of her being chained up like that again made him feel sick to his stomach.

She deserved a second chance at life.

He sat beside her bed and he reached over and held her hand.

He remembered how Helen used to just ask for that some days when he visited her.

“Too tired to hold a conversation can you just hold my hand for a while?” She’d say and he would have sat there in those uncomfortable hospital chairs for hours if she wanted him too.

And tonight he would do the same thing but he was keeping an eye out in case someone tried to do anything to her.

He watched as the doctor would return to check on her again every three hours.

“How is she?” He asked him softly as to not wake up the sleeping woman.

“Better than before but not out of the woods yet.” The doctor said “it wouldn’t be a terrible idea for her to go to an actual hospital for the surgery.”

John shook his head.

“You know just as well as I do as to why she can’t go to a hospital.” John said as he kept his hand on the woman’s lifeless one.

The next two days were spent trying to find out anything about her as she recovered from her surgery but couldn’t find anything at all. He couldn’t tell if he was relieved or upset by that.

He wanted to at least know her name as a form of decency.

She hadn’t woken up yet or if she’d had he wasn’t around to see it.

The doctor had said she was awake for a few hours post surgery while he was away on a job but she mostly wanted more pain medication and a bigger blanket.

He walked into her room expecting to see her asleep.

But she was sitting up in bed, his dog laying beside her enjoying the small pats on the head she was giving him.

She immediately froze when she saw him.

“It’s okay.” He said softly as not to startle her.

“He usually is wary of strangers but I think he likes you.” He added as he pulled a chair closer to the side of the bed.

She nodded.

“You can talk, it's alright I promise nobody here is going to hurt you. I’m glad to see you are awake, I'm John.”

The woman smiled and then reached for the pad of paper and a pen from the desk which he tried to hand to her but he moved too fast and she flinched away.

“Sorry.” John said softly as she took the paper pad

She wrote something down and handed it back to him.

“Hello, John I’m Y/N Where am I? Your dog is very nice. Does he have a name?”

John looked over her hand writing it was elegant and soft in cursive.

“Thank you and no he does not and hello Y/N. You are at a hotel. I had a friend of mine a doctor patch you up. How are you feeling now?” John said and then handed the paper and pen back to her.

She took the pad and pen and wrote something down and handed it back again.

“I’m feeling better. The medicine last night helped a lot . If you see your doctor friend again please tell him thank you for me. And I’ve never been in a hotel like this before. I hope it wasn’t expensive. And thank you John for saving my life.”

John smiled softly before speaking.

“I’m glad you are feeling better. And I will tell him on your behalf and I couldn’t have let you stay there and be able to sleep at night. Would it be alright if I ask you some questions? Stop me if it gets too much.”

Y/N nodded as she flipped the paper over.

“Did you know the men who were in the room with you?”

Y/N wrote something down and showed it to him.

“My Boyfriend and his associates.” She wrote with a grim look on her face that made him feel an odd sense of satisfaction that the men in question were nothing more than bodies in unmourned graves.

“They are dead.” John said cold and sharp but there was no other way to phrase it that didn’t feel like lying.

She looked at him with her eyes a mix of relief and sadness.

“Did they suffer?” She wrote

“Yes.” John said plainly

“Good.” She wrote with a small smile on her face

“How long were you there?” John asked cautiously so as not to upset her.

“Since I was 18.” She wrote emotionlessly that John couldn’t read her body language at all anymore.

“How old are you now?” He asked her curiously

“Not polite to ask but I’m 29.” She wrote with an almost jovial look. Like you couldn’t tell how old I was?”

“For eleven years you were their prisoner?” John asked in disbelief as to why nobody was looking for her.

“I was a missing person that nobody missed.” She wrote with a sad expression

John sighed a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry.” He said honestly

“It’s okay but is it alright if we talk about something else?” She wrote with a worried expression like she was waiting to be told no or get smacked in the face.

“Sure of course I’m sorry to be asking so many questions so soon and as I said before I’m not going to hurt you.” John said reassuringly

She looked around as if she was looking for something else to talk about.

“You're married?” She wrote and then tapped his wedding ring

“I was.” John said solemnly “but she passed away.”

Y/n looked down avoiding him.

“I’m sorry.” Was all she wrote before laying back down.

“Thank you, are you okay?.” John asked worriedly

“Pain is back.” She wrote with a wince as she tried to get comfortable

John was reminded again of Helen’s many hospital stays years ago.

“I’ll go get the doctor.”

John said leaving Y/N who was back to petting his dog who seemed to be enjoying the attention.

John and the doctor returned minutes later.

“Nice to see our guest is awake and alert.”

John stood in the corner quietly observing the situation.

“How are you feeling today ms.?”

That’s when John handed her the note pad before she could reach for it.

“Here.” He said in his usual monotone voice.

“Not much of a talker hm?” The doctor said “that’s alright who am I to judge If I had gone through what you had I wouldn’t be up to chatting either.”

Y/N smiled and wrote “I’m fine and who said I didn’t wanna talk?”

John did everything he could not to chuckle.

“Well it seems you’ve done something miraculous by making Mr.wick here laugh ms.Y/N and that is extraordinary.”

John shot him a glare but the doctor didn’t see it but his eyes softened as he looked at Y/N.

Maybe getting to know her wouldn’t be so bad.

That was almost six months ago.

Y/n has adjusted well to her new life in New York in John’s opinion.

They have started dating each other but neither of them have admitted any feelings. It was more so if anyone ever asked if they were dating it would be yes and it made the cover easier to believe.

John learned in the meantime that she was mute but that didn’t bother him in the slightest; they still had hours long conversations.

She tried to use her phone with a text to speech app but they both found it robotic and John’s dog absolutely hated it.

So for his sake she went back to paper and pen and the occasional white board if she wanted but she reserved it for whenever she had free time with John to get him to play a game with her he didn’t like many of them but he would play tic tac toe with her or anything to do with spelling he liked those.

Which is what Y/n was doing now as she sat on the couch John was sitting across from her in an armchair with his dog beside him a white board in his lap as he wrote something down.

“Ok Y/n what about this word возлюбленный?” John said, showing her the word on his white board.

“I have no idea I’m still working on my Italian let alone Russian.” She wrote with a smile

“Not even a guess?” John asked amused

Y/n shook her head.

“Beloved.” John said softly chuckling

“I know a better word for that.” She said and wrote something down and Then showed it to him

“A black rabbit?” John said looking at the drawing

And Y/n laughed a breathy laugh that was more raspy than anything but it was a genuine laugh from her.

She erased the picture with a napkin.

“No it was him.” She wrote and then gestured to the sleeping pitbull on the ground by John’s feet.

“Still looked like a rabbit to me.” John said as he stood up and walked to the kitchen and Y/n followed as did the dog Y/n followed John and.

“We should go to the grocery store.” John started to say before Y/n bumped into him.

“Hi.” John said amused

Y/n smiled at him.

“As I was saying, I think we need to go to the grocery store. I'll let you pick what we have.” John said as grabbed his car keys off the top of the fridge.

Y/n nervously followed him.

“Don’t worry I’m going to be with you.” John said reassuringly

He remembered the time he assumed that Y/n was well enough to shop alone, meaning that she’d be on one aisle and he would be on another.

It lasted twenty seconds before she had a complete breakdown.

John promised she’d never be alone again and he meant it.

So for the time being she was his shadow.

He didn’t mind after what she went through would have broken lesser women.

The drive to the store was quiet but like the comfortable quiet.

Of course Y/n still asked questions with her notepad.

She always did.

And John would never admit but it was nice having someone in the car that wasn’t his dog.

Once inside the store John kept a close eye on y/n who easily gets overwhelmed in crowded places or really anywhere with fluorescent lights.

She wrote down her idea for dinner and showed it to John.

“What about spaghetti?” She wrote with a small drawing of spaghetti underneath it.

“Sounds good to me. I like whatever you pick.” John said, keeping a quiet watchful eye out.

That’s when someone on a different aisle dropped something causing Y/n to flinch and her hand immediately started rubbing at her pulse point on her wrist.

A telling sign that she was about to have a panic attack.

“Hey it’s okay.” John said softly before adding “someone just dropped something, it's alright.”

Y/N seemed to relax a bit as she clung to his arm as they walked and wrote something down with her non dominant hand so it lacked the usual graceful writing.

“Sorry I’m so difficult sometimes.”

John shook his head as he grabbed something off the top shelf and put it in the basket.

“You are not difficult Y/N.” John said softly “my last boss now that was difficult.”

Y/N smiled softly at him as she always did when she couldn’t think of something to say.

John had to admit that she beautiful when she smiled.

Everything was normal. They bought the things they needed and chatted about what wine they wanted until it became time to check out.

“Cash or card?” The clerk asked

Y/n took out her notepad and wrote down something but the clerk couldn’t be bothered to read it.

“You could just verbally answer.” She said angrily and Y/N nervously backed into John who held his hand on her shoulder protectively.

“Here.” John said, handing the clerk his credit card but his glare at the woman was cold, bitter and angry.

Y/n didn’t say anything as they walked out of the store.

“You okay?” He asked her

She shrugged as she got in the car.

She wrote down something and showed John.

“I’m sorry.” She looked down at the notepad

“For what?” John asked

“Being broken.” She wrote down with a sad expression

“I personally think that broken ones are the best to keep.”

Y/n looked at him.

“Are you broken too?” She wrote it was the first time since she had been staying with John that she had asked about his personal life beyond that one question about his wife.

“Yes I am.” John said his voice was still monotoned but it held a reserved softness.

“What broke you?” She wrote her eyes looking directly at John as he drove.

“Loss.” John said without emotion

“We can be broken together, maybe our broken pieces fit in each other's spaces.” She wrote

John looked at her as they drove into the driveway.

“That’s very wise. Y/n.”

She smiled brightly and wrote “I have been reading a lot of the books in your library.”

“Just avoid the ones on the top shelf.” John warned as he opened Y/N’s car door for her

She smiled again as wrote something and showed it to him.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” John said with a small laugh. he didn’t know he could still do that anymore.

But Y/N just grabbed some of the bags from the store and brought them inside and started unloading them.

“Tonight is a special night.” John said as he looked at the calendar

“Is it because it's Thursday?” She wrote with a confused look

“No it’s because it's been seven months since you started staying here.” He said with a light in his eyes Y/n hadn’t seen before.

“Is it truly worthy of a celebration?” She wrote down

John chuckled warmly “any day that you are in it is worthy of a celebration.”

Y/n looked at John touched by his words.

“That was sweet.” She wrote

“I never told my wife all the things I wish I had told her when she was alive. It’s my biggest regret of our marriage.” John said as he helped put away the groceries

“I like hearing you talk about her; she seemed like a wonderful woman and it’s nice to see you still wear your ring.” Y/N wrote

“I probably wouldn’t even if I fell in love again.” John admitted as he walked behind Y/n to put away the small bag of dog treats in the cabinet

Y/n looked at him and wrote “if I was your girlfriend outside of being in name only. I'd understand.”

John turned and looked at her.

“She would have wanted me to move on but it’s difficult given everything.” He said

“It hurts worse when you aren’t prepared to lose them. I think so moving on feels like betrayal. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.” Y/n wrote

John didn’t say anything at first as he looked at her.

“Third shelf on my bookshelf.

the poetry of Pablo Neruda. I had that page folded.” John said softly, impressed by her.

“You were gone for a while. I had to read something. I'm sorry.” She wrote with a worried look

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind.” John said as he walked over to the bookshelf that sat by the black leather couch and room four books off the top shelf.

“My bookshelf is now yours.” He said as he walked the books upstairs and once in his room he looked inside one of the books.

It was a hollowed out book that held a 38. Caliber handgun.

In the next was a few coins and if he ever were to need it the markers of the men who owed him a favor.

And in the next two was a set of handguns.

He had put his past behind him for the most part since Y/N moved in but he was never too careful he put the books in the sliding drawer on the side of his bed Next to a folded familiar black suit.

Once everything was put away he walked into the kitchen where Y/n was cooking dinner.

She was softly dancing around the kitchen to the soft classical music she had playing on her phone under the white lights of the kitchen and the glowing moonlight out of the back window.

She was a stark contrast to the woman he rescued all those months ago.

“You have good taste in music.” John said as he walked into the room as his dog immediately demanded his attention “I see you too.” He told the dog as he gave him a soft pat on the head

“Do you dance?” Y/n wrote and John shook his head “not since my wedding.” John said

“I haven't since my ankle surgery.” Y/n wrote as she tapped the prosthetic where her left foot had been before the injury “I always wanted someone to dance with but the last guy I danced with made my life hell.”

“Well in that case.” John said as he walked up to her as the song changed from classical to a rock song as he led her into a soft dance.

He remembered every step he had taken when he danced with Helen; he could still feel the soft silk of her wedding dress on his finger tips.

It was the first time in his life he wasn’t waltzing with the grim reaper.

But instead it was with someone who was light and warm who was unknowingly sharing her shadow with death.

He carefully spun y/n then carefully kept tempo in the dance which she was graceful as Helen was in the way of dance.

Every move was unlocking a memory that he had locked away inside his mind.

John wasn’t expecting to find himself getting emotional as the dance ended but he quickly wiped the tears from his eyes before Y/n noticed but she had tears in her eyes as well.

“What’s wrong?” He asked her

Y/N grabbed the pad of paper and wrote as she wiped her tears away with her sleeve “You didn’t have to do that John but thank you.”

“You danced beautifully.” John said honestly as he noticed he hadn’t let her hand go just yet.

She looked at him before writing something down “Thank you.”

He softly cupped her cheek.

“I have been lying to myself about not having feelings for you Y/N I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. I know Helen would want me to move on and I’ve been your partner in word only but if you would want me to do I’d like to change that to the truth and that is I want to be with you for as long as I can be.”

Y/n grabbed her notebook but stopped herself instead she pulled him into a soft kiss that lasted no longer than a few seconds but it said everything she wanted to say.

She grabbed the notebook and wrote “you saved my life John. I still don't know if you're an angel or not but I doubt that because angels wouldn’t have done what you did to save me. but I will be yours for as long as you will have me.”

John ran his hand over her cheek. “How about forever?”

And kissed her again.

After dinner she was resting curled up in John’s arms as she drifted off to sleep in his arms. She thought of one of the pablo neruda poems in John’s book.

“I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.”

-The end-

#keanuverse #John wick #john wick x reader #John wick chapter two #Spotify

His Words So Sweet

Part 2

Southern Gentleman!John Wick x Trainwreck!Reader

Warnings: Poor mental health mentioned. Uneasy feelings. Not proofread.

You were so relaxed in the mammoth of porcelain that you almost didn't wanna get out, but you knew John was going through the trouble of cooking dinner and you didn't wanna be rude. Especially not to the man who was taking it upon himself to be so kind to you.

The fluffy towel felt so nice against your skin as you dried yourself from head to toe, the fresh clothes were a godsend even if they were two sizes too big.

As you timidly padded your way into the kitchen, your eyes were blessed with the near heavenly sight of John standing at the stove, spatula in hand in a pair of flannel lounge pants and a white cotton shirt stretched to it's limits over his broad shoulders and tight muscles.

It was enough to make you completely weak in the knees and made you think for a moment that maybe life wasn't all horrific.

He must've heard you enter the kitchen because he turned around and smiled at you, waving 'hi' with the grease soaked spatula he'd just used to turn a burger.

"Well there she is. Howdy! Dinner's just about ready, 'n look," he pointed over to the fireplace that was now crackling with a warm glow, "lit it for ya."

"I... thank you, John. I don't know what to say..." you trailed off, your mouth feeling feeling dry all of a sudden.

You noticed he had discarded his cap from earlier and his hair hung loosely, framing his face so casually yet so perfectly.

He smile reach the outer edges of his mouth as he placed the burgers on two plates complete with a hesrty helping of seasoned fried potatoes. The smell alone was enough to make your mouth water, but the sight made your stomach growl in eager anticipation of a real, home-cooked meal.

John chuckled as he carried both the plates to the burled walnut table in the warm ambiance dining room.

"Someone's hungry," he teased softly, "come eat sweetheart. S' okay," he reassured you sensing your vulnerability.

He caught himself studying your movements as gou sat yourself across from him at one of the most beautiful tables you'd ever seen in your life. At least, that's what he assumed from the way your eyes widened at the massive hunk of wood.

The way your eyes lot up when you took that first bite lot up an old familiar spark within him. Something he hadn't felt in a long time. As he stared at her damp hair and how she looked so comfortable, beautiful, in his clothes, he couldn't help but feel like it was his duty to make sure you were fed and safe.

"It's delicious John... thank you."

Her voice sobered him enough to peel his eyes away from her and dig into his own food, enjoying the slightly gamey taste of the meat that he shot fresh. It was a taste he'd acquired to the point of comfort and something that seemed equally as enjoying by his more than pleasant company.

After a mostly silent dinner, you took the dishes to the kitchen and washed up without even being asked. Your mostly dried hair formed a snarl of loose waves around your face and down you back making John's heart skip.

He was so far gone in this little moment until his burner rang.

"John Speakin'."

You didn't really pay much attention to his phone call as you finished placing the last plate to dry, but as he hung up you could feel the air shift into something unlike what you had felt in the past fourteen hours.

The sound of the phone snapping shut was the only thing reminding her that the shift, while sharp, didn't stop the world from turning underneath her feet.

"I need to go," he told you honestly aa he wiped a stray soap sud from your eyebrow.

Your chest clenched at the thought of being in this big house alone... and in the woods of all places.

"When will you be back?" You asked meekly, every cell in your body wanting to reach for this man that you barely knew. But right now he felt like the only anchor tethering you to the real world.

"Not sure, but my number is on the fridge. Call if you need."

His warm demeanor was replaced with one of cold rigidness which perplexed her, but you really didn't have any place to argue.

As you continued to clean up the kitchen, he retreated back to his room before stepping back out a few moments later.

His casual clothes were replaced with a sharp black on black ensemble that made your breathing stop for a beat.

This was not the same man that offered you sanctuary.

He didn't even look in your direction as he exited the home.

What you weren't expecting was to have a full blown depressive relapse in his absence.

Instead of exploring the vastness of the cabin, you Instead hid inside the comfort of fleece on the couch where she entered into a deep sleep.

Hours stretched long and you had sense woken up to him still being gone. Your eyes shut tight as you attempted to go back to sleep.

You felt so pathetic. Your freshly washed hair already becoming tangled with lack of care.

Once John finally arrived back home, his intense demeanor faded back into a more relaxed one.

His eyes softened at the sight of you on the couch and he gently scooped you up and took you to the guest room where he tucked you in.

You stirred at the feeling of his warmth.

"Don't leave," you begged, "please stay..."

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear as an almost inaudible sigh escaped his lips.

"Darlin'... I can't," he confessed.

Not that he didn't want to. God did he want to. He wanted his solid arms to be the only thing keeping your small frame safe from the terrors of the outside world, but he knew the moment he touched his body to yours he was confining you to a fate that you didn't deserve.

The next morning was quiet and still as you awoke, the shame of last night hitting her like a freight train.

John was already dressed and was waiting outside with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

The only thing you wanted to do was crawl back in bed and shut the world out.

Forget the anguish of your previous life. Forget the questions this new opportunity held, especially when it came to John.

You could tell the air surrounding him was thick and dangerous, but his warmth was overwhelmingly safe.

Giving into the world outside, you got up and fixed your hair enough to feel a little better about him having to be seen with you in a public place.

Later, maybe you'd confront him about last night, but for now you were just happy to feel a little more human again.

Part 1

#john wick x reader #john wick #southern gentleman au #keanu reeves #trainwreck reader #keanuverse #keanu characters

Chapters: 48/? Fandom: John Wick (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: John Wick & Original Female Character(s) of Color, John Wick/You, John Wick/Reader Characters: John Wick, Winston (John Wick), Original Female Character(s) of Color, Viggo Tarasov, Santino D'Antonio, Bowery King (John Wick), The Adjudicator (John Wick), Marcus (John Wick), Ms. Perkins (John Wick), The High Table (John Wick) - Character, Continental Hotel Doctor (John Wick), Iosef Tarasov, Helen Wick, Aurelio (John Wick), Charon (John Wick), Zero (John Wick), Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont, Caine (John Wick), Katia, Ruska Roma - Character, Killa Harkan Additional Tags: Violence, Reader-Insert, Assassins & Hitmen, Murder, Sex, Smut, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, This is nasty NASTY, John doesn’t play about his girl Series: Part 3 of Skyline Series Summary:

Your simple world is turned outside down when you become the object of affection for the World's Deadliest Assassin after crossing paths.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #skyline #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3fic #black fanfiction #black fanfic writer #john wick x black reader #john wick x black oc #x black!reader #x black reader #black reader

His Words So Sweet

Part 1

Southern Gentleman!John Wick x Trainwreck!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of poor mental health. Not proofread.

(AN: I was inspired to do a John Wick chaptered fic by the amazing works of @johnwickb1tsch and @sweetwolfcupcake !!! Y'all are so freaking talented it's unreal!)

The first time you saw him was in a tiny Get n' Go on the Outskirts of Maryville, Tennessee.

A worn pair of Levi's graced his lower half, and he sported a chestnut leather belt complete with a buckle the size of your fist. A crisp, beige button down with darker pin stripes hugged his body comfortably and a leather jacket the shade if burnt Umber draped itself over his body as if it were a part of him. The last thing you noticed was his cap. Plain charcoal matching the scruff on his face, holding his dark almost black locks to his head.

"Pack of smokes. Marlboro red shorts. And $35 on pump three... say you know where I can get some buckshot round here?" His thick accent hit your ears as he spoke to the clerk, taking out his wallet and grabbing out cash.

#john wick x reader #john wick #john wick au #keanu reeves #keanu characters #keanuverse #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #southern john wick #trainwreck reader

Wick Away the Pain

John Wick x Reader

Summary: John helps take care of you after a tough day.

Warnings: Body parts described. Nudity but not sexual. MDNI!!! Reader is described as female. Not proofread. Some angst if you squint but mostly fluff!

⭑꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦⭑

The water is hot and the droplets kiss your silky skin causing a small sigh to escape your lips as your jaw begins to unclench.

John moves you away from the shower head and squirts a decent amount of your milk and honey scented body wash onto a loofah.

"Come here, sweetheart," he murmurs lowly as he gestures for you to tilt your head upward.

#john wick x reader #john wick #john wick x you #keanu reeves #john wick x y/n #keanuverse #keanu characters #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction

human fem!reader x vampire!john wick. loosely based on a piece with original characters i wrote, but fuck it, fic is way more fun. tried to keep it short but this man is made for slow burn. Part 2/4? pics stolen from pinterest 🏴‍☠️ yarrrr! divider credit 1900 words. // warnings? blood, sexual situations, MDNI, nsfw. Part 1/map

At first you hardly know what to do with all your newfound free time. You go for long walks, exploring your neighborhood, the shops, the cafés, and Central Park. New York City is so full of life—you never really had the time to just stop and watch. The next time John visits you there are stacks of books on nearly all your horizontal surfaces, conquests from the book shops you find on your wanderings.

"Catching up on some reading?" he teases you in that deadpan tone that somehow conveys amusement from this man.

"Just…making up for lost time," you admit. You never had much time to read, when you worked at the bar. You never had much time for anything but work and sleep, since…as long as you can remember. You haven't exactly had an easy life.

#john wick #john wick x reader #x reader #john wick vampire au #vampire wick #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #john wick x you #blood mistress fic #keanuverse