#JOHN WICK. / threads.

[etxrnaleclipse]

Closed starter for @wiinestories || Ilsa and John

Ilsa was no stranger to targets who posed just as much of a lethal threat as she did herself. It was one of the things that she would pride herself on; she would accept a job no matter the risk. Either she knew that she could complete it with her eyes closed, or she saw it as a challenge to better her skills. Death was always a potential in this line of work, but she was beyond fearing what might happen. Instead, she focused on the thrill of success.

She had heard the stories. She knew enough about this man to know that he would be one of the harder jobs to complete, and realistically, had she not been there to end him, she might have liked to observe his skills. But there was a task to do, so Ilsa stuck to the shadows, walking the path with no sound made as the distance was closed between them.

[plainndry]

I think I am gonna make a Media thread to share what I’ve played/watched this year. It looks like a fun thing to do! (Copied from my Twitter thread)

Here’s what I experienced in 2023

Dark Souls 2 Scholar of the first sin:

While souls games tend to be frustrating for me, they are also brilliant experiences, and I had a ton of fun with DS2! The Halbert in this game specifically is my favorite weapon in the entire series as of rn.

Neon White:

I hope everyone finds a game that fits their taste as well as Neon White fits mine. One of my new favorite games with such a satisfying sense of flow and rhythm that I couldn’t put it down till I got a gold medal on every stage.

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish:

I loved the TV show they did so I wasn’t totally surprised but this exceeded my expectations. Gorgeous art style, fluid animation, compelling characters, and the most intimidating animated movie villain in a long time make this a winner in my book!

Bocchi the Rock Season 1:

IT’S SO CUTE AND FUN OMG!!!! A really heartfelt and well realized story with an absolute banger soundtrack. I loved every single character and every single episode so much, it’s truly an amazing show!

Elden Ring:

This game is scary in how good it is. It’s massive, intensely difficult, detailed, and beautifully crafted. It’s so much that I’m inclined to say it’s too much. But too much of a masterpiece is still a masterpiece. I’m carrying this victory with me for a long time.

Transistor:

Holy wow, I haven’t been surprised by a game like this in awhile! It’s an extremely well designed tactical action game with an unconventional narrative structure and absolutely killer visuals and music. I’ll definitely consider returning for another run later on!

Summer Wars:

An absolute rollercoaster of a movie. I really enjoyed the family dynamic and the different ways the story unfolded. It wasn’t what I expected at all and I think it was better for it. The visual design is incredible too! It’s very pleasant to look at. A fun movie!!

Journey:

I’ve rarely seen a game so perfectly titled. It was a true journey. It was an experience that was unique to me and my own playthrough. That’s what I think is truly special about this game. The people you meet and the way you progress while linear is truly your own

John Wick 4:

Absolutely lives up to the quality of this series. John wick continues to impress me with its action choreography and cinematography. This entry specifically has a strong set of side characters, some excellent music compositions, and amazing settings. Loved this one!

Portal 2 (Co-op):

I played the single player years ago but I finally got to finish the co-op campaign and it was a blast!!! Portal is one of if not the most satisfying puzzle games I’ve played. Reminds me how much of a classic this one is. Shoutout to my cousin for joining me!

Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves:

A really enjoyable action comedy movie! It did a good job capturing the dynamic of a dnd party. A super fun time with genuine humor, great performances all around, and the appropriate amount of chaos for a movie in the dnd universe.

The Super Mario Bros Movie:

A solid film! The Music stole the show for me, Peach and Bowser were huge highlights and Luigi and Toad had great performances too! I was disappointed by the Kongs voices but it’s a film with a lot of love for the series in there! Peach is great btw💕

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom :

This game somehow impresses today in the same way botw does. The improvements rocket this game into the stratosphere. While i suffered the same fatigue I did with Elden ring at the end, I also found myself in awe almost the entire time

Spider Man: Across the Spiderverse :

I um, don’t know what to say. Visual feast, extremely compelling plot, character work that hit so so hard, an animated movie the likes of which I’ve never seen. Just incredible

Barbie Movie:

It was so incredibly fun. I had a good few laughs and it had really compelling characters. Very appropriately campy with the depth to back up the camp. A well made film

Cassette Beasts:

What a fantastic game. It recaptured the magic I haven’t felt since playing Pokémon platinum for the first time. It’s battle system is so engaging, story filled with mystery, characters absolutely lovely, and a world that is just the right size for exploring. 💕

[unvendaval]

[ HIPS ] : sender pulls receiver in closer by the hips . + “ let me take care of you . “

what is tenderness , anyway ? he got to meet a glimpse of it with helen . a survivor solely on memories , john was not planning to re - start a fire that would never burn all the same . wasn't sure of any plan , that's for certain . for now , complete the cycle : end the lives that were meant to end , & return to a life of yearning for what once was .

his body hurts , remains of violence & the fall from a new york rooftop making it rotten . but sharon's touch doesn't . it almost colors him guilty , undeserving of such tenderness . @whitesuited lets fingertips quietly run down scarred torso , before they pull him closer by the hips . a whisper , an offering . he doesn't know what to do with himself , not anymore . this wasn't part of the plan . but the push - and - pull between them has smoldered for long enough . john moves his hands to each side of thirteen's face , drawing her into a deep , longing kiss .

( ... ) now that i have found my peace , find yours .

words may ruin this peace , suddenly so fragile & sacred . it doesn't take long before john guides her to the bedroom . oh , the turn things would take .

[requitals-arc]

@arcticrime

he’s seen this kind of place before. some of the clubs viggo’s been solidifying his grip on are like the lounge, pulsing with sound and movement. john’s never liked that kind of place. he likes silence. stillness. this is the opposite of that. gotham in general is the opposite of that. silence comes before something awful here.

but john doesn’t show it. he’s professional, always professional, and measured as he sits. “let’s make this simple,” he intones, clear. “if you have the coins, then i can take a job.”

[bigidiotenergy]

One day he'd tell her how John Wick died.

It doesn't need to be now. Not unless Karen asked. But that doesn't seem like it's going to be the case for now. He can see how her body deflates in relief, mirroring his own. John didn't know just how deep her worry went. He couldn't have known how many nights that Karen went without sleep. He didn't even know how important he was to her, like she is to him. John owes her more than he can ever repay.

Eyes widen slightly at Karen's suggestions. "You... want me to stay?" It wasn't something that John was expecting. A beer, sure, some talking, of course, but taking him in? Even if it's just for a night? That... surprised him. This was the first night to his new life. There was no fighting. There wouldn't be anymore patching him up after these wounds heal. John was free. And now has to think about the after. What happens now? It's a question he can't answer. There's been... talks about this. About now. But talking about the future then was different. Back then, these statements were 'if's. But now? Now it seemed to only be a matter as to when. And right now... he can't wait for when he gets in that bathtub. "I think... I'll take you up on that. ... And pizza." Talk about something John hasn't had in quite a while. He was stuck eating from cans that he could find or the food that gets thrown away that the Bowery King gave him. Don't get him wrong, he certainly was thankful, but now that he wasn't stuck in survival mode... something fresh and hot sounded like it hit the spot.

John takes another sip from his beer before realizing something. "I think... um, I'll need some help... getting... in." The bathtub, he means. There was only so much mobility that he had at the moment. He clears his throat. "If... you're comfortable with it?"

Much like Frank, Karen never begrudged John's...life, if one could call it that. It made their own tenuous relationship difficult to manage, with John gone and Karen always wondering if she would wind up with some person at her door with a letter telling her that he was dead, but she never hated him for it. She never questioned why, only did her due diligence in awaiting the next time that he arrived at her door with cuts and bruises and a body damaged to the point that she wondered if he would be able to make it to old age.

He had his demons, a past that held him in its thrall, and Karen knew that so much of what he raged against now was to deal with that. His yes was so simple but she felt her throat tighten, felt the sting of tears in her eyes as she nodded her head with relief. No more sleepless nights wondering and worrying. No more late night research sessions trying to find any hint or flicker of news about the Baba Yaga.

Free. Finally.

Karen let out a breath and looked back up to John then, taking in his features, studying him. "How about we get you in for a nice soak in the tub with some Epsom salt? And then...if you want, I'll order a pizza or something...or you can go to bed after if you want." Slow down, breathe, relax...rest.

Life was not over. It was just beginning again.

[blondephil]

hello (one of the) resident phannie data analyst(s) here with some parasocial stats on dnp’s movie tastes! following: distribution of dan and phil's ratings overall, movies they each rated 5 stars, their lowest-rated movies, and the similarities + differences in their tastes

(lore moment: yes i am a data analyst in my real job. yes i surprised myself with wanting to do this in my spare time. but then i remembered when we read dracula in college (yes i was an english major) and i graphed like, how many times dracula was referred to as vampire versus monster or something. so i shouldn’t be surprised.

first up, their overall rating patterns and by ~special status~ (i.e., wall-e, kill bill, avatar, lmao, plus big hero 6 for the fun of it)

dan’s rated 304 movies and phil’s rated 305. both of them have mean and median ratings of 4 with min 1 and max 5.

both rated kill bill vols. 1 and 2 a 5. wall-e got a 4.5 from dan and a 4 from phil (phake phans). both gave avatar a 3.5. and big hero 6 3.5 (dan) and 4.5 (phil)

rating distribution:

i did analyses here by genre but i need to fix the output (i’m writing all of these based on the markdown document from my phone on the subway, but i need to fix the outputs and i don’t have my computer. so those are pending but there are other genre analyses that i could do & haven’t yet!)

while i was sorting through the data i got the impression that dan overall rated movies higher than phil. so, among movies that they've both rated, here's some information

number of movies dan rated higher than phil: 65

Empire Strikes Back, Blade Runner, Return of the Jedi, My Neighbor Totoro, Back to the Future II, Nightmare Before Christmas, Toy Story, Phantom Mence, Donnie Darko, Attack of the Clones, Finding Nemo, Oldboy, The Notebook, Batman Begins, Brokeback Mountain, WALL-E, (500) Days of Summer, Up, The Hangover, Drive, The Cabin in the Woods, The Avengers, The Dark Knight Rises, Life of Pi, Skyfall, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, Whiplash, The Amazing Spider-Man 2, Room, The Hateful Eight, The Force Awakens, Manchester by the Sea, Deadpool, La La Land, Moonlight, Rogue One, Call Me By Your Name, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2., Wonder Woman, Spider-Man: Homecoming, I, Tonya, Thor: Ragnorak, Phantom Thread, Roma, The Favourite, The Lighthouse, Toy Story 4, Midsommar, Ad Astra, Knives Out, Soul, The Green Knight, No Time to Die, Don't Look Up, Spider-Man: No Way Home, Turning Red, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, Thor: Love and Thunder, The Banshees of Inisherin, The Fabelmans, Glass Onion, Beau is Afraid, Barbie, Oppenheimer, Poor Things

number of movies phil rated higher than dan: 55

Star Wars (New Hope), Blair Witch Project, Requiem for a Dream, Memento, Ocean's Eleven, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Iron Man 2, Thor, Captain America: The First Avenger, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Moonrise Kingdom, Iron Man 3, Gravity, Prisoners, The Wolf of Wall Street, The Grand Budapest Hotel, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, The Imitation Game, Nightcrawler, John Wick, Gone Girl, Big Hero 6, Jurassic World, The Martian, The Revenant, Nocturnal Animals, Split, Get Out, Baby Driver, The Disaster Artist, Dunkirk, The Shape of Water, The Greatest Showman, The Last Jedi, Ready Player One, Crazy Rich Asians, A Star is Born, Rocketman, Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood, Joker, The Rise of Skywalker, The Invisible Man, A Quiet Place Part II, Greenland, Tenet, Malignant, Eternals, The Matrix Resurrections, Scream (2022), Nope, Prey, Talk to Me, Avatar: The Way of the Water, The Super Mario Bros. Movie, Mission Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One

number of movies they rated the same: 99!

Alien, ET, Gremlins, Back to the Future, Top Gun, Aliens, Home Alone, Silence of the Lambs, Jurassic Park, Pulp Fiction, The Lion King, Se7en, Scream, The Fifth Element, Titanic, The Truman Show, The Matrix, Magnolia, Spirited Away, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Spider-Man, Lost in Translation, Kill Bill, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Kill Bill Vol. 2, Mean Girls, Howl's Moving Castle, Children of Men, The Dark Knight, Pontypool, Inglourious Basterds, Avatar, Toy Story 3, Inception, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, Black Swan, The Social Network, 21 Jump Street, The Hunger Games, Silver Linings Playbook, The Conjuring, Snowpiercer, Her, Thor: The Dark World, The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, Boyhood, It Follows, Guardians of the Galaxy, Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance), Interstellar, Ex Machina, The Witch, Avengers: The Age of Ultron, Mad Max: Fury Road, Inside Out, Ant-Man, Captain America: Civil War, Your Name., Arrival, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, mother!, It, Blade Runner 2049, Hereditary, Black Panther, Annihilation, A Quiet Place, Avengers: Infinity War, Captain Marvel, Us, Avengers: Endgame, Parasite, It Chapter Two, Marriage Story, Uncut Gems, 1917, Black Widow, The Suicide Squad, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, Dune, Last Night in Soho, The Batman (2022), Everything Everywhere All at Once, X, The Northman, Top Gun: Maverick, Bullet Train, Barbarian, Pearl, M3GAN, Dungeons and Dragongs: Honor Among Thieves, Evil Dead Rise, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3., No Hard Feelings, Saltburn, Priscilla, Society of the Snow, Saw X, Leave the World Behind

i didn't analyse this by genre or anything, but i could -- so if you're interested lmk!

the 5 movies with the most different ratings between dan and phil

- Iron Man 2 (dan: 2, phil 3.5)

- The Greatest Showman (d: 2.5, p: 4)

- Malignant (d: 3, p: 4.5)

- Scream (2022) (d: 2.5, p: 4)

- Beau is Afraid (d: 3, p: 1.5)

Interesting that even though dan has more higher rated movies, 4/5 of these ones phil rated higher.

next, their 5-star movies

dan's five stars: 80

Alien, Empire Strikes Back, ET, Blade Runner, Gremlins, Back to the Future, Top Gun, Aliens, Stand by Me, The Grave of the Fireflies, My Neighbor Totoro, Back to the Future II, Home Alone, Silence of the Lambs, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Jurassic Park, Nightmare Before Christmas, Schindler's List, Pulp Fiction, The Lion King, Toy Story, Fargo, Scream, The Fifth Element, Hercules, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Titanic, The Truman Show, The Matrix, Fight Club, Magnolia, The Emperor's New Groove, Donnie Darko, Moulin Rouge, Shrek, Spirited Away, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Finding Nemo, Kill Bill, Oldboy, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Shaun of the Dead, Kill Bill Vol. 2, Howl's Moving Castle, Revenge of the Sith, Brokeback Mountain, No Country for Old Men, The Dark Knight, Inception, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, The Tree of Life, 21 Jump Street, The Avengers, Life of Pi, Skyfall, Under the Skin, Whiplash, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, Interstellar, Mad Max: Fury Road, Sicario, The Hateful Eight, La La Land, Arrival, mother!, Blade Runner 2049, Avengers: Infinity War, First Man, The Favourite, The Lighthouse, Parasite, Midsommar, Uncut Gems, 1917, Dune, Everything Everywhere All at Once, Top Gun: Maverick, Oppenheimer, Poor Things

phil's five stars:

Star Wars (New Hope), Alien, ET, Gremlins, Back to the Future, Top Gun, Aliens, Home Alone, Silence of the Lambs, Jurassic Park, Pulp Fiction, The Lion King, Scream, The Fifth Element, Titanic, The Truman Show, The Matrix, Magnolia, Requiem for a Dream, Memento, Spirited Away, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Kill Bill, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Kill Bill Vol. 2, Howl's Moving Castle, The Dark Knight, Inception, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, 21 Jump Street, Interstellar, Mad Max: Fury Road, The Revenant, Arrival, Dunkirk, mother!, Blade Runner 2049, Avengers: Infinity War, Parasite, Uncut Gems, 1917, Dune, Everything Everywhere All at Once, Top Gun: Maverick, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, The Shawshank Redemption, Gladiator, Little Miss Sunshine

overlap: 39

Alien, ET, Gremlins, Back to the Future, Top Gun, Aliens, Home Alone, Silence of the Lambs, Jurassic Park, Pulp Fiction, The Lion King, Scream, The Fifth Element, Titanic, The Truman Show, The Matrix, Magnolia, Spirited Away, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Kill Bill, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Kill Bill Vol. 2, Howl's Moving Castle, The Dark Knight, Inception, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, 21 Jump Street, Interstellar, Mad Max: Fury Road, Arrival, mother!, Blade Runner 2049, Avengers: Infinity War, Parasite, Uncut Gems, 1917, Dune, Everything Everywhere All at Once, Top Gun: Maverick

& their lowest rated movies...

dan: matrix resurrections (1) , thor: the dark world (1.5), the rise of skywalker (1.5)

phil: crimes of the future (1), attack of the clones (1.5), thor: the dark world (1.5), don’t look up (1.5), the matrix resurrections (1.5), doctor strange in the multiverse of madness (1.5), beau is afraid (1.5), black bear (1.5)

not even chris hemsworth could save thor the dark world, i guess (kat dennings, though…)

movies they logged on the same date:

note that this is like, non-exhaustive, because this is only based on their diaries that list the date. i think in reality they've watched most of these movies together. frequently dan logged a couple days after phil which aren’t shown here. procrastination queen

Pontypool, Eternals, The Northman, Nope, Barbarian, The Banshees of Inisherin, Glass Onion, The Super Mario Bros. Movie, Beau is Afraid, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3., Mission Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One, Saltburn, Poor Things, Priscilla, Saw X, Leave the World Behind

movies that one logged and not the other:

dan but not phil: 85

The Exorcist, Stand by Me, The Grave of the Fireflies, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Home Alone 2, Schindler's List, Fargo, Romeo & Juliet, Hercules, Men in Black, Neon Genesis Evangelion, The Mummy, The 13th Warrior, Fight Club, The Emperor's New Groove, Moulin Rouge, Shrek, Legally Blonde, Monsters, Inc, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Scooby-Doo, 28 Days Later, Matrix Reloaded, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, School of Rock, Matrix Revolutions, Saw, Shaun of the Dead, Shrek 2, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Revenge of the Sith, The Devil Wears Prada, Borat, Casino Royale, No Country for Old Men, Death Proof, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, There Will Be Blood, Tropic Thunder, Slumdog Millionaire, Moon, District 9, Fantastic Mr. Fox, The King's Speech, We Need to Talk About Kevin, The Tree of Life, X-Men: First Class, Prometheus, Argo, Les Miserables, Django Unchained, World War Z, Pacific Rim, Under the Skin, 12 Years a Slave, American Hustle, The Babadook, The Lego Movie, x-Men: Days of Future Past, 22 Jump Street, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, The Theory of Everything, Green Room, Sicario, Spotlight, The Big Short, 10 Cloverfield Lane, The Conjuring 2, Train to Busan, Hacksaw Ridge, Doctor Strange, Hidden Figures, Logan, You Were Never Really Here, Game Night, Isle of Dogs, First Man, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, Suspiria, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, Glass, Hustlers, Pig, Violent Night

phil but not dan: 86

Jaws, The Terminator, Beetlejuice, Die Hard, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, Groundhog Day, The Shawshank Redemption, Leon: The Professional, The Usual Suspects, The Frighteners, The Sixth Sense, Being John Malkovich, American Beauty, The Green Mile, Gladiator, Catch Me if You Can, Elf, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Little Miss Sunshine, Pan's Labyrinth, The Prestige, Zodiac, Spider-Man 3, Iron Man, Juno, Lake Mungo, Twilight, Zombieland, Kick-Ass, Brave, Evil Dead, The Great Gatsby, Now You See Me, Monsters University, Man of Steel, About Time, Dallas Buyers Club, Edge of Tomorrow, The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1, The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2, The Boy, Raw, Finding Dory, Suicide Squad, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, John Wick: Chapter 2, Lady Bird, The Ritual, Happy Death Day, Deadpool 2, Ocean's 8, Ant-Man and The Wasp, Bird Box, Booksmart, Crawl, Spider-Man: Far From Home, The Platform, Black Bear, Palm Springs, The Empty Man, The Innocents, Titane, Old, Free Guy, The Black Phone, Fresh, Watcher, Bodies Bodies Bodies, Ambulance, Aftersun, Crimes of the Future, Fall, Bones and All, The Menu, Sanctuary, Do Revenge, Smile, Hellraiser (2022), Mr. Harrigan's Phone, Plane, Missing, Infinity Pool, Past Lives, Knock at the Cabin, Scream VI

i’m interested to see how this varies by genre!

miscellaneous non-statistical things that made me parasocially emotional and/or laugh during this process:

they watched nope together on christmas eve 2022 <3

dan rated moulin rouge a 5 <3 nature boy <3

he also rated shrek a 5. of course. (valid).

4.5 from dan and 4 from phil from the notebook

5 from danny for brokeback mountain <3 and a 4.5 from philly

cmbyn, yes, has its issues, but dan rated 4.5 and phil 4

the shape of water got a 4.5 from monsterfucker phil lester (dan gave it a 4)

surprisingly phil rated rocketman higher than dan! surprising because dan liked so many musicals

dan gave hustlers a 3.5. i don't know why i think this is funny, but i do. phil doesn't have it logged or rated, lmao.

a 4 (d) and a 3.5 (p) for barbie!

phil gave twilight a 3. lol.

phil also gave do revenge only a 3.5. tragique.

phil watched a LOT of horror alone in october 2022 (aka while dan was on tour). anyway he's just like me <3

[sugarbbgrl]

prof!price cont. read this before continuing.

warning(s): pet names, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise, age gap MDNI

wc: 1783

He places a small kiss to your temple before pulling his face away from yours, a sadistic smirk spread across his lips. Your eyes meet his once more, face now stained red. A small pit has formed in your stomach, either of embarrassment for arousal, maybe both. You open your mouth to speak but nothing but a shaky breath escapes past your lips.

“What? Too shy to speak, doll?” His smirk widens, a wicked look in his eyes. You do your best to swallow with a dry throat, you wet your lips as you take in everything that’s happened thus far.

"I could take you right here," His eyes stay glued to yours as he brings your hands up to his mouth, pressing a delicate kiss to each palm. "I could rip those jeans off of you, dip my fingers into you and feel how wet I can make you with just a look." Price hands leave yours to grasp at your waist, gripping not too harshly but firm enough to keep you still.

He dips his face down into your neck, peppering light kisses along the vein that runs along it, your eyes fluttering shut at the gentle feeling. He presses his pelvis into you, his hard cock flush against your clothed stomach. The action elicits a soft moan to slip, your hands eventually finding their way to his hair.

"Professor.." You gasp out, his kisses becoming more heated along the length of your neck, lightly sucking along the way. Every nerve in your body lights up, aware of your professor's body against yours.

“Please,” He mutters against your flush skin. “Call me John, sweetheart.” 

John. John. John. Your heart yearns to let the name slip from your lips, but your mouth won’t let it.

You finally bring your hands up to his shoulders, skimming the broad surface underneath your touch. You wrap your arms around his neck and allow yourself to finally give into the man before you. John’s mouth makes its way up your jawline before capturing your mouth with his. He groans into your mouth, the taste of you overwhelming his senses.

He tastes of cigar smoke and bitter coffee. His lips are plush, soft caresses compared to the harshness of his calloused hands. You thread your fingers in his short locks at the nape of his neck, pressing your body further into him. The kiss is firm, rushed but not harsh. John doesn’t want to hurt his pretty little doll, he wants to show her a gentleness fit for a queen.

John’s hands move to your ass, gripping at your clothed flesh before moving to your thighs. He only breaks the kiss to lift you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. Your lips meet once again, almost like magnets. Your teeth capture his bottom lip, nibbling.

“Christ, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out, Doll.” John sighs as you bring your attack to his neck, sucking in a harsh breath through his nose and your tongue drags against the stubbly area.

“Take what’s yours, John.” Your voice vibrates against his throat, earning another groan from the older man holding you up. As if a switch flipped, he rushed to his desk and laid you on your back, not caring about what gets knocked over and broken in the process. His hands move to your chest, kneading your breasts through your shirt.

“No bra? You naughty little minx.” He grins and winks before taking each side of your blouse, ripping it off of you. Buttons fly and a sharp gasp leaves your mouth at the sudden action and the crisp A/C colliding with your bare nipples. You could feel how painfully hard he is through his slacks as he leans down to capture a nipple in his mouth. His beard tickles your chest as he sucks and swirls his tongue around the sensitive area, a whimper leaving your lips. You buck your hips into his, desperate for any sort of friction at this point. 

“Ah ah, pretty girl. I want to savor you.” John pulls away from your nipple, a small ‘pop’ sounding around you. You whine at the loss of contact and you find yourself almost pawing at this face to come back. He chuckles and dips down to the valley between your tits, kissing a wet trail to the hem of your jeans. John unbuttoned the tight clothing, pulling them down by the belt loops. He leans up only for a moment to admire your light pink, lacy thongs adorning your bottom half.

“Seems like you’d planned for this to happen.” He comments, the fire in his eyes and chest burning like a jet engine. “As lovely as these look on you, they’ve got to go, sweetheart.” Rather than tearing the thin fabric to bits like he did with your blouse, he chooses to slide them down your legs.

He didn’t even give himself a chance to take both items before putting you in a crunch-like position and finally getting a taste of what he needed. He spread your lips and immediately began suckling at your swollen clit. You hand flew to his hair, gripping the soft, short curls into your fist and let out a strangled gasp. John nipped at the sensitive bud with his teeth before running his tongue up your dripping slit, stopping to delve into your contracting opening and tasting your nectar.

“John, oh my God!” You did your best to silence yourself as your cries echoed through the open and empty area of his classroom. He replaced his tongue with two fingers from his free hand, prodding your entrance with the thick digits. He pushed into you, cursing at how slick your walls are and slowly pulled them out before pushing them back in once more.

You don’t mind the burn your body was brandishing from the position he has you in, anything to have the professor you’d had a crush on for the majority of the semester at your mercy. You could feel his fingers push against your sweet spot while his gentle attack on your clit progressed. Every hair stood on end as goosebumps rose to your skin, indicating your inevitable release. Your hand gripped his hair harder, a groan escaping John’s lips and vibrated against you. You whine as you could feel the tightness pool in your lower belly, every action and sound he made pushing you closer to your climax.

“John, I’m close.” You breathe out, your eyes rolling back as he adds a third finger into you, the pleasurable stretch inching you closer. His tongue stopped its assault on your rosey bud, but his fingers never stopped. John stood from the position below you, his intense, deep blue eyes meeting you half-lidded ones.

“I want to watch you fall apart, my pretty little doll.” John’s gruff voice sent shivers down your spine and straight to your nerves. You begun to shake as John leaned down to press a delicate kiss to your forehead, quickening the pace of his fingers fucking you. You whine and whimper, eventually turning into louder moans. He leans away from your forehead, his eyes burning holes into yours.

Your eyes threaten to snap shut as you near your end, wanting to savor the immense pleasure you’re in. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. I want you to look at me as you come.” John’s voice once again rattled your insides, you begrudgingly listening to his dominant words. The intensity in his eyes never let up as you finally slip over the edge.

The profound orgasm ripped through you, every nerve buzzing from the sweet release. Tears prick the corners of your eyes and you hand reach for his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. You cry out, strings of unintelligible words slip from your lips and settle into John’s satisfied ears. Your whole body shakes, near convulsions as John slows his fingers until eventually pulling out of you completely. 

“Made quite the mess of you, ay, sweet baby.” John grins once again, bringing his three soaked fingers to your mouth. He taps lightly on the reddened flesh, coaxing you to open up. You wrap your fingers around the thick, meaty digits, tasting your own saltiness covering them. You swirl your tongue around them before he pulls them out. John leans down and presses his lips to yours again. This kiss is sloppier this time, the both of you spent from the escapades. 

John gently pulls your panties and jeans back up your legs, pressing small kisses to your heated skin along the way. You begin to finally regain your strength to lean up on your elbows, your face flush and vision a bit hazy.

“You are quite the sight for sore eyes, sweet girl.” John takes your hands in his and kisses the back of them, locking eyes with you again. You feel like your face can’t get anymore red, the comment making you shy once more even after everything that just played out. You eyes dropped down to the strain in his pants, his cock nearly throbbing from the lack of attention. You reach out, wanting to help him out after everything.

“Not today, love, you can return the favor another time.” He shakes his head and kisses your temple. You’d definitely have to return a huge favor for him. You find your strength to stand once more, holding your arm against your chest. 

“Well, now this is the tricky part considering you tore my top to shreds.” You giggle, casting a gaze to the pathetic excuse for a blouse on the floor. John chuckles and walks over to his backpack, unzipping it and pulling out a sweatshirt of his. You thank him and toss the soft material over your head, his smell strong within each stitch.

“How’s about we go out to dinner one of these nights? I don’t want this to just be a quickie, I want to get to know you more.” John brings his hand up and pushes a strand of your hair behind your ebay before caressing your soft cheek, the pad of his rough thumb running over your cheekbone. You smile up at him and nod, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’d like that very much, John.” His eyes brighten more at your acceptance, bringing you in for a tight, affectionate hug. It’s been a crazy day, everything you’d ever dreamed of coming to fruition and then some. As you stand in the middle of your favorite professor’s room, enveloped in his burly frame, you think to yourself about all the ways you can repay him.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 7 all chapters

I knew the pleasure of vexing and soothing him by turns; it was one I chiefly delighted in.

–Jane on Mr. Rochester, Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë

-It's no real mystery, why you dig out your beloved old copy of Jane Eyre. From the early 1900s, it had seen better days when you’d scored it in the local used book store, many years ago. You’d been a teenager then—and those days were long behind you. It seems you never outgrew your liking of a dark and broody anti-hero.

It’s safer to read about it though, than pursue the real thing.

Lately every time Mr. Wick comes into the shop you feel slightly agitated, as though you don’t quite fit into your own skin. You remember the sensation of his fingertips on yours, like a burn.

Mr. Wick sees you reading your tattered novel on your break, but doesn’t comment. You’ve seen him with old classics in hand and reckon he must be something of an aficionado.  

You put it away in your shoulder bag in the back after the break.

The next day, it’s gone.

You know you left it in your bag. Where the fuck could it have gone? Why would someone fucking steal it?

A couple of weeks later, it reappears on the counter by the register you favor.

You hardly recognize it at first, for it has received an encompassing makeover. It has new leather covers with gorgeous embossed gold lettering, and marbled end papers, and the tattered thread of the binding repaired. There are gilded arabesques on the spine and delicately drawn climbing flowers on the cover. You wouldn’t have even thought it the same book, if not for the intricately printed title page unique to your edition, with an old pencil mark in the corner you recognize.

Such a restoration would have cost a fortune.

You knew, because you’d looked into it.  

Further compounding the mystery, there is a beautiful jacquard embroidered ribbon bookmark inside. It’s on the page where Rochester has sat Jane down in the arbor, and is telling her that she has rejuvenated him from his unhappy existence without actually admitting anything, asking in the most roundabout way possible if it would be so very bad to take a second wife who would make him a new man, while his first is still living, the big idiot.

“Is the wandering and sinful, but now re-seeking and repentant, man justified in daring the world’s opinion, in order to attach to him for ever this gentle, gracious, genial stranger, thereby securing his own peace of mind and regeneration of life?”

Jane tells him, of course, that a man shouldn’t base his redemption on another person, but within himself. You are not sure you would have had the strength to speak so frankly to a man you secretly loved.

Well, maybe you would.

You are utterly mystified by the whole thing, to say the least.

But later, you are browsing the local book store, and the owner is reading Anna Karenina in what looks like freshly bound leather. The style looks familiar.

“Did you have that restored?” you ask, feeling like Nancy Drew hot on the trail of a fresh lead.

“Yeah, that new guy in town, John Wick did it for me. He says he’s just a hobbyist, but he does amazing work. Usually you have to send off to Florence for quality like this, seriously. It’s a dying art.”

Darren lets you look at the book, and you are impressed by the craftsmanship.

The spine decoration matches yours. There is a plate in the back that proclaims: Bound by John Wick.

The sneak.

You are touched to the tips of your toes, your heart filled with butterflies. Was the bookmark purposely left on that page, or just a random placement?

You hardly dare hope, and tell yourself it’s an invention of your own fancy. The gift of the book is magnificent enough. No need to further muddle things with secret communications that aren’t really there.

The next day you approach Mr. Wick’s table with hands on your hips, affecting annoyance. “You stole my book.”

He actually has the grace to look sheepish about it, casting those lovely dark eyes downwards.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks. I really love it.” It’s the understatement of the century.

He looks up through his hair, the surprised sparkle in his eyes taking your breath away. Suddenly, he looks ten years younger.  

“Yeah?”

The corners of your mouth twitch. This man speaks like he’s paying five cents per word, you swear. “Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me you bind books?”

He just shrugs, and you cannot help but laugh.

“I’ve never owned anything so fine. Thank you, truly.”

 He nods again, and you sense that you’re maybe making him uncomfortable with your gratitude. You suspect it’s not why he did it at all.

“Will you show me sometime? How you do it?”

There is a flash of something dark in his eyes before he turns his attention back down to his own book. It feels like dismissal, but you have no idea what he’s hiding underneath it all.

Still waters run deep.

“Anytime you want,” he offers as you turn to go.  

You smile at him over your shoulder as you go back to your station, a secret lightness fluttering in your heart. On your break you flip through your refurbished book once more, taking even more pleasure in it knowing that John poured over every detail of it. You don’t know much about bookbinding or leather work, but you suspect he freehanded the little flowers on the front, and that moves you to your toes.

You flip to one of your favorite scenes because you find it so funny, when Jane puts out the fire that nearly burned Rochester up in his sleep, because undoubtedly he’d drank too much earlier to easily rouse, the lovesick scoundrel. Afterwards he doesn’t want her to leave but can’t outright keep her in his room without behaving an absolute blackguard.

“Strange energy was in his voice, strange fire in his look.”

You cannot help but glance up at your tall dark bookworm in the corner, an aching warmth spreading in your heart for the sight of his furrowed brow, his concentration (you think) focused on the tome in his hands.

You know you are a ridiculous thing.

[simp2537]

Masterlist

🔥-Smut 🧨-Angst

🩹-Hurt/Comfort 🧸-Fluff

🫶🏻-Yandere

🗝️-Dark/Darkish Aleksander Morozova

Series

Moon Helios: Y/n Starkov a legendary warrior, fierce protecter and monster. Bred and broken in servitude to her saint. She knows nothing but her mission in life. To live, and die at her saint’s command. Aleksander Morozova the most powerful of the grisha, a monster. A general who has been fighting alone for hundreds of years. She hates him, he needs her. 🔥🧨🩹🧸🗝️

Series trigger warnings: Child abuse, anxiety, religious trauma, racism, manipulation, division of canon, Alina hate?, trauma, ptsd, bullying, insomnia, self-neglect, mental health issues, guilt tripping, cult theme, blood consumption, cannibalism?? Lost of murder, talks of SA in other characters, Sexual acts, future smut, predatory behavior(not from Aleks) and all other shadow and bone stuff

Act I : Face Claims Act l : Prologue Act l : The academy Act I : Burn Marks Act I : Where’s my epic background music Act I : Necklace for a Lifetime Act I : The Motherland Act I : A Helios is Born

Series Blurs

I Have a Dream

Oneshots

Marking (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader) 🔥 Touch her and die (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader) 🩹🧨 Scars (Aleksander Morozova x wife reader)🧨🩹 Tension (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader)🔥

Harry Potter

Series

N/a

Oneshots

A Miracle (Mattheo Riddle x pregnant!reader) 🩹 A Fathers love (Matthe Riddle x wife!reader)🩹🧸🧨 Reunion (King!Siris Black x fem!reader)🩹🧸

John Wick

Series

Pupllis: She was a weapon from birth. Born and bred to kill for the high table. John Wick a legendary assassin who knew more fame than any. She was a gift to him, he didn’t want to keep her. As there time together passes and they learn to care for one anyone the High Table comes for them. platonic! John wick x child!fem! Reader.🩹🧨🔥🗝️🧸 (Smut is not with John but future Oc)

Chapters One

Oneshots

N/a

My Hero Academia

Series

The Final Alice: Aizawa never wanted to be a father but that plan was thrown away when he found a girl during a mission. This girl was like no child he’d ever seen before. As she grew her power and background remained a mystery. How will her life turn when she meets a charming red head with sharp teeth and an explosive blonde. platonic!Aizawa x daughter!reader, KiriBaku x fem!reader.🧨🩹🔥🧸

Help Pick A Hero Name Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter EightChapter Nine Chapter Ten

Oneshots

N/a

Narnia

Series

From the Stars : A star fairy and the prince of the kingdom that destroyed hers. What could happen? Prince Caspian x fem!reader🧨🧨🧨🔥🩹

Sneak Peak

Oneshots

Yandere Prince Caspian x reader headcannons🫶🏻 Something New (King Caspian x wife reader) 🔥

Percy Jackson

Series

N/a

Oneshots

Runaway (Percy Jackson x gn!reader)🧨🧨🩹🫶🏻🗝️ Misery is the Truest way of Love (Yandere Pereabeth x gn!reader)🫶🏻🧨🗝️ Lovers Quarrel (Pereabeth x gn!reader)🧨🩹 Stage Lovers (Yandere Perceabth x male!reader) 🧨🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🗝️

Blurs

Bottom Percy 🔥

Winx Club

Series

Fairy of Monsters : Alastaria the forgotten sister of Bloom. She slowly begins to unravel her true nature, thread by thread. How will she survive the many trials of her life. Sky of Eraklyon x Oc. Dark Winx Club fix.🩹🧨🗝️

Chapters one : Advesperascit  Chapter two : Monochopsis Chapter three : Kalopsia

Oneshots

N/a

The 100

Series

Project SS: It stared as an idea. Take a dying child and infect them with the SS serum. These children would be raised in isolation, to be the future soldiers for the ark, then earth.

Most died out over time.

Not her, Not Y/n Kane. The only child of Marcus Kane and his wife Alice Kane. After her birth, born with a weak heart Alice Kane decided to give her to the scientists that were working on the project.

Forging her husband’s signature upon the document Alice Kane was sentenced to death. The deal though and Y/n Kane became the most deadly of the super soldiers.

When protecting a friend she finds herself in a cell. Then in her way to earth with the rest of the 100. How will her love continue knowing she’s just puppet to be controlled. Will she grow out of such a horrible situation and blossom with the help of her friends and loved ones. Or will she fall so deep into her created identity that there is no hope. Bellamy Blake x fem!reader.🔥🧨🩹🗝️

Sneak Peak Chapter One Chapter Two

Dead Boy Detectives

Series

Scylla: She’s a half-breed mutt and he’s a crow. She was trapped in hell for hundreds of years before she met a teenage ghost who helped her escape. They later met another boy who would soon die and join there friendship. The group created the Dead Boy Detective Agency. Later as their classes become more difficult pieces of her life before her friends is slowly revealed. What should happen when she met and falls deeply and helplessly in love with an enemy crow. 🔥🧨🩹

Sneak peek Cast Chapter One Chapter Two

Oneshots

Poly Crystal Palace x mermaid reader x Niko Sasaki🧸

Request list/Requests are Open

[vinca-majors]

the best thing about the John Wick films is that this is John at his worst. like... his wife has just died of a terminal illness, so he's already exhausted from that. he is living in a cloud of depressive grief. and that's before the story even starts. the first 3 films span three or so weeks, which he kicks off by being beaten unconscious. from that point forward, he gets stabbed repeatedly, punched everywhere on his body, sliced open, suffocated, thrown through walls, slammed into by multiple vehicles, falls off multiple balconies and rooftops, nearly dies in the desert, barely sleeps if he does at all, and fights his way through a revolving door of back-to-back attacks from gangs and solo fighters. everywhere he goes, an enemy is waiting behind every single door and corner. his dog and his mentor are killed because of their love for him. for the span of three films the man is being held together by surgical thread, pain meds, energy pills, and sheer willpower. multiple characters including john himself note that he's rusty. RUSTY. imagine what he is capable of when well-rested, emotionally stable, in peak physical condition, and undergoing regular training sessions. no wonder the entire criminal underworld is running scared when he comes back on the scene. it's anyone's guess where along the timeline the 4th film is going to pick up, but I hope SO MUCH that we get to see peak John at some point.

[unvendaval]

❛ missed my touch that much, did you? ❜ John ;)))

♡ @thirt13n .

one of sharon's many powers : to propel john into realization , with flawless timing . does he deserve this ? a tender touch , one with no ulterior motive other than each other's delight ? her fingertips graze ever so slightly the scarred , marked skin of john's back when his shirt is removed . soon enough he's engulfed in her embrace , hands guiding her legs to wrap on each side of his hips with fervour . his mind is busy elsewhere — lips hungrily making their way from jaw to neck to chest , hands gently pushing her shirt open to find more skin to praise . he doesn't realize when her own is slipping under his waistband , the grip of her hand on his length enough to earn a muffled gasp ; & her cynical quip . " yes , " a bright , embarrassed smile lights up his face , as he moves to find hers again . " painfully so . "

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone XXIII

•John Wick x Plus Size Female Reader

• Howdy, I don’t know anything about guns or Russia besides the little research I’ve done. Please don’t be mad at me if I get facts wrong or say something dumb. Laughing at me, however, is completely acceptable :3. Also, I’ve been going down a rabbit hole of high table & John Wick lore for this story, and there’s lots of references to other JW media (the comics, the Continental TV series, wiki pages).

• Thank you so much everyone who is reading/commenting on/liking this story, it means a lot to me and I love you guys. I started writing this one year ago and feel like I’ve improved so, so much that it’s insane. I’ve been learning to pick out my own style and make it coherent by reading all the other brilliant fanfictions from everyone on Wickblr/Keanublr and I’m insanely grateful I found this little hole of internet. Divider is by @thecutestgrotto

• TW: blood, death, bodies, HEAVY NSFW, gore, guns.

She does, eagerly, jumps under the covers, and he tsks, pulling off his sweater with one hand. “No, honey. Spread your body out for me. I want to see you.”

She almost starts to protest, but the dark look he gives closes her mouth, and she lays flat, naked, looking anywhere but at him, pushing the blanket off on the floor to avoid its tempting sanctuary.

He chuckles. “Spread your legs, babydoll. Wider. There you go.”

She whines, fisting the bed sheets and closing her eyes tight while her pussy pulses uselessly, sure he can see the slick glittering on her lips and unkept hair.

“Look at me,” he tells her, and by god she tries despite the fact that his cock can’t get much harder without fucking exploding into pieces. He undoes his belt, then slips his jeans down, and the outline of his leaking length makes her mouth water.

God, he’s beautiful. She’ll never get used to it.

He says aloud what she thinks. “You’re beautiful. I could stare at you all night.”

She laughs. “Please don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I want you.”

“I can’t stare at you while you have me?”

“Just come here.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll cry.”

His palms catch the end of the mattress, and he kneels down by the edge. The pride he feels in light of this titillating manipulation, as if he single handedly taught her how to sin himself, should be worrying. Corruption looks so pretty while she wears it and nothing else.

He grabs for her ankle, and catches it despite screeches and giggles and protests and pulling.

The phone at their bedside rings, and his teasing teeth stop just short of her neck.

“Did you just break that?” Her fingers twirl into his beard.

He leans into her touch while they both steal an incredulous look at the landline he just ripped from the wall and threw across the room.

It’s not ringing anymore, that’s what really matters. He goes back in for flesh—will kill, with his bare hands, whoever makes his cordless sound off over her needy whimpers.

She looks up at him for a long moment, trying not to laugh or cry, and then says: “can I break that one?”

He has to go.

“Why do you wear a suit?” She asks him, fumbling with the tie.

He guides her fingers, showing her how to cinch it. “Professionalism’s sake.”

“Oh,” she smiles, tracing the indent of his cock with her thumb. “This is professional?”

They’re on the bed again, pressed in tight, tongues rolling together. He pulls away and she wipes saliva off his beard, tugs him back by the tie he just so neatly put together.

“I have to go,” he says, grinding against her, slicking up the crotch of his pants.

“Yeah,” she agrees, digging her fingers into the dip of his beautifully sloped back.

“In the Morning,” he promises, pressing her mouth against his clothed erection with palm threaded through her hair.

“Can’t have you going to work messy,” she says, eating her own cum off of his dress pants.

“You-ah, ah-John. You have to go.” As he teases open mouthed kisses up the seam of her puffy pussy, whispers praises over the den of her clit.

“Gotta go,” he grunts, lifting his hips up so she can wrestle his cock free from its confines and suckle the leaking cum from his tip.

“Can’t let you stain your nice professional pants.” She cleans him so nicely with her tongue that it creates even more of a mess.

She cleans that up, too.

“Please—please don’t stop,” she asks, arching her back, words jumbled and urgent, willing with a deep whine for the increased tempo of his tongue and fingers.

All these delicious plans he has for dominating her benevolence with the elusivity of release, reducing her to begging and bargaining and selfish demands, immediately crumble under the beautiful, breathy way she asks for an orgasm, and he growls at himself and her gushing, clenching pussy for giving in so easily. Still, he eats up her mess and brings her down nice, easy, soft, crawling up her trembling body until he can make her taste herself on his mouth, which she does eagerly and delightedly.

“Don’t go,” she says, post coital bliss somehow softening her up even more. She’s melting into the mattress and pulling him down with her, like sticky boiling sugar enveloping a curious fly.

“I have to go,” he says, clinging to her, still full on suited and with his aching cock tucked back in.

She huffs, reaches for him, to wrap those plump little fingers around where he is crying, twitching, furious.

“Just one more taste,” she asks, rubbing languidly at his pronounced head.

He is cold, calculated, unbreakable, steadfast. He has endured hours of torture and pain and blood and agony. He is an impenetrable force, the enigmatic feared entity of the Bratva, and he bucks and shivers and—

whines, pressing the sound into her throat as she smiles with pride and adoration and idly twirls his hair around her fingers.

If he were a weaker man, or maybe a stronger one, he wouldn’t unstick himself, kiss her cheek, smooth down her wild hair before pressing his face into the thick of it and memorizing the smell.

“Come back to me,” she orders, as he puts on his other shoe.

“Don’t die, okay?” She pleads, as he’s tucking guns and knives into his clothes.

He places one last kiss to the middle of her forehead, unsure of promises, unsure if he can fulfill her request. The only sure thing in his life is the tangible heat and want between them that is burning him alive. He says, after a few seconds pressed against her damp skin, “okay.”

——————-

Winston must have looked through her own closet somehow, because comfy cotton T-shirts and leggings and sweatpants are the majority of what he sent for her. She can’t stop being eternally grateful for his hospitality, despite the resistance she’s put up against it.

She takes a long, hellfire shower, winces when she gets to her pubic bone—her hips are sore, bruised, labia red and raw from beard burn. Inner thighs chafed to hell. It hurts, but she wants to keep all of it as a reminder of her John.

The Continental comes to life at night. The lights dim blue and deep red, music pumps behind colossal forbidden doorways, patrons of all ethnicities and ages and cultures accumulate at tables and cluster on lounging couches.

Bookstore library stranger greets her in the silver-coated dining room. She has a bit of alcohol on her breath and blouse. Despite this, she’s very happy to see her again.

“Hello Ella.”

“Would you like a drink? My treat. They have everything. Straight, narrow, sugar.” Ella puts her hand over her mouth and hiccups. “Excuse me. Get anything you like, dear.”

She orders simple, A fruity cocktail, and sits with Ella for a bit while hearing stories about growing up wealthy and admired. It’s so differently fascinating from her own life, these tales—she’s utterly captivated and brimming with jealousy.

Addie is here, too, graced by inhuman strength in her lithe frame, when she pulls her away from story time to speak privately.

“Do you know who that is?” Addie asks, holding two fingers up at the bar tender.

He delivers two crystal glasses of sparkling water. “She’s my friend, I met her at a bookstore. Her name is Ella.”

“Elena Jovonovick,” Addie corrects with a concerned frown and drawn eyes. “She is the head of the Ruska Roma.”

She blinks at Addie a few times, understanding curtaining over her face. “Oh…”

Addie opens her mouth, but the voice that speaks does not belong to her. Ella—Elena—sidles between them, and motions for another drink. “Addie, sweet girl, what is wrong?”

Addie’s flushed cheeks bleed all their color, but she does not tremble nor fall back despite the look of abject fear held in her face for this tiny woman.

She doesn’t understand the fear, but does understand that the woman she has become friends with is…what? John’s adoptive mother? A slew of emotions typhoon through her. The first, humor. It’s funny, that she she’s meeting his family without his knowledge. Second, anger. Anger because this is the person who took tiny, defenseless, innocent John—her John—and turned him into a harbinger of death.

She starts to say something seething, something that she will regret later, but when she looks at Ella and opens her mouth, she sees a familiar expression—sorrow, regret, profound sadness. Like an abandoned, filthy dog on the street corner. And her jaw snaps back into place.

“Please,” Ella says, sipping at her drink. “I need John Wick’s help.”

—————————————

The doctor was right, he is distracted and sloppy. A mind at war. A hit that glances off someone’s sternum, not killing them. A failed attempt at kicking one of his colleagues away from a butterfly in the femoral.

He grabs some flyaway blood, throws it in the knife wielder’s face, then presses a bullet into his skull.

He tugs a foam plug from his ear to hear what Marcus is yelling from across the room. It’s done, anyway. Twenty two men in, twenty two men out. He wipes sweat off his brow and leans against the cool wall to bring himself back to baseline.

“Did you hear me, John?”

“Yeah, I heard you.”

But he didn’t, and still doesn’t, occupied by the message on his phone that blackens his vision around the edges—whether in fear or rage, he cannot tell.

Rage is simple, clean and cut, as slick as the jacketed bullet he sunk into the skull of Yuri Morozov when one of his bodyguards flexed their finger on a trigger.

“The car’s loaded with dynamite,” Marcus says, swiping some sulphur off his cheekbone, panting from the jog over. “What—what’s wrong?”

It’s an unusual conversation to have while splattered with blood and surrounded by the bodies spilling it. Marcus continues despite the situation.

“Jesus Christ, tell me why you look like that.”

John blinks at him, almost asks him to explain what expression he sees and this concerned reaction to it. He already knows, though, doesn’t he? That his face has become a breeding ground for pesky emotions. “Elena Jovonovick is staying at the New York Continental.”

“Who—“ Marcus guffaws in disbelief. “Who told you that?”

“Does it matter?”

“No—what the fuck. Where are you going?”

“Back home.”

“You can’t kill her John! You can’t kill the head of the fucking Ruska Roma! You know that?” Marcus takes a few leaps after him, but ultimately decides against intervention.

“Where is he going?” Kirill asks over the earpiece when he first hears the snarling squeal, then sees John’s mustang peel onto the boulevard.

“Diarrhea,” Marcus replies.

[blxxditout]

HA. Haha... He'd be laughing if it were a funny thing to laugh about, but the other guy looks too grim to be cracking jokes. The copper scent that hangs in the air makes his nose wrinkle as he gives the boogeyman a once over. He looks like he's in a rough shape, that kind of goes without saying though, especially with the mess that sat outside of the bathroom. A real ballroom blitz happened just outside and he can't fathom the idea of sticking around. It'd be a good idea to get the hell out while he still could, regardless of the job he needed to fulfill while here. It was just his luck to have to deliver some parcel to the owner of this little shindig, but now he would have to be dealing with his potential death too.

❝ Thanks... you, uh... have a good one ❞ , is all he can manage to get out, still stunned by what he was seeing.  

He'd have liked to ask, who are you, but that felt like it'd be stupid to ask. He doesn't want to get to know the guy, out of fear of getting caught up in the excitement. Sid nods, casting a glance at the other one last time before taking a step back. The package is still in his hands when he rounds on his heel, going to head back and make his way to the south exit. The bodies- god, there's a lot of them- are the least of his concerns as he skims the scenery, just in case if there were any stragglers that thought he was on the hitman's side of things. This was just like one of those movies he'd seen forever ago, though not as fun now that he was experiencing things for himself.

" holy shit, are you okay ? " / @blxxditout

   to  say  it  was  new  to  john  would  be  a  lie.  it's  not  even  as  bad  as  he's  used  to  -  though  to  be  spotted  cleaning  up  a  wound  and  stitching  it  together  in  a  public  bathroom  is  beyond  what  he's  used  to.  he  arches  a  brow,  before  turning  back  to  his  work.  a  few  spent  bullets  are  in  the  sink,  along  with  quite  a  fair  bit  of  his  blood.  he's  stitching  the  second  bullet  hole  on  his  own,  the  first  one  sloppily  done  but  effectively  done. 

   "never  been  better."  he  states  it  rather  bluntly  -  whether  it's  a  joke  or  not  is  entirely  up  in  the  air  and  up  to  interpretation.  when  he  finishes  the  last  stitch,  he  ties  it  off,  snapping  the  thread  and  tossing  the  needle  to  the  sink.  he's  content  to  leave  the  mess  behind  as  he  pulls  his  clothes  back  together,  for  whatever  that's  worth.  they're  a  tattered  mess.  ripped.  burnt.  bloody.  it's  not  outside  of  the  normal  life  for  the baba  yaga. 

   "you  might  not  want  to  hang  around  here."  he  states  it,  pulling  his  handgun  from  the  back  of  his  pants,  checking  the  remaining  bullets  with  a  swift,  well  practiced  motion.  not  too  much  left  -  which  didn't  bode  well.  "place  isn't  safe."  his  gaze  flicks  to  the  newcomer.  "go  out  the  back  way  -  and  try  not  to  trip  on  the  bodies."  the  bodies  he  left  in  his  wake,  really.  "you  don't  want  to  be  a  casualty." 

[writingbyshiloh]

Cautious yet optimistic and graceful

Part 2 & Part 3

CW: Morally gray reader, Fem!Reader, John Wick type of violence, drinking, Marquis is a bit of an ass, French is not the reader's native language but there are only 2 sentences in French. Both say “City of Lights” but the reader's French is off.(will update as the fic goes) 

AN: if the title is still messed up idk what to say I have been working too many hours. I have parts 2 and 3 planned if there is an interest! IDK French sunset times nor the weather so just roll with it. I also watched the entirety of community s4 so if he's ooc blame it on that. No beta

The other managers have it easier you think. If anything goes wrong in New York, that's okay because New York is gritty. Paris has such a large history and many different names that it is hard to include in one hotel. In Casablanca, Sofia has her dogs with her at all times so the hotel is a bit more laid back.  Maybe you are just bitter because your hotel in Paris is considered to be the epitome of class. 5-star dining, showing off the best French cheeses, hotel complete with a small vineyard for exclusive house-made wines. 

Maybe because you share the city with a very wealthy and powerful agent of the table. Marquis Vincent de Gramont was a thorn in your side. While never made explicit you felt like he had a hand in making you manager. 

Whether it was him wanting fresh blood running and influencing the Continental or your previous weapon (swords, often French by some weird coincidence) when you were still doing hits for the high table pulling on some patriotic thread in him.  The not knowing gave you small comfort.

You liked the concierge though, a woman named Camielle. You were given the option to fire her but declined wanting to make sure someone understood the hotel, at least during your few years running it. 

The gentle buzzing of your desk phone took you out of the work you were doing. Using the back end of your pen you punched the answer button. 

“Marquis de Gramont asked if you're free for dinner tonight. I said yes.” Camielle told her, her French accent coming across even on the phone. 

You bite back a whine. The threat of Marquis visiting always buzzed in the back of your head and you were sure that while not a member of the high table, he had enough power (in many senses of the word) to fully shut down your hotel. You also never spent time with him alone. You would occultly see him at some “business” even that was far and few between.  

You nod your head, before realizing that she couldn't see you. 

“What time? Did he say where?”

“Huit. Eight. He said the rooftop.” 

You thank her before she hung up, probably to help a guest.

Of course, he did. The location was formal, secluded and your favourite. Should you bring a guard? He won’t kill you, business is forbidden in Continental grounds you thought stabbing your pen against the notepad in front of you. 

While replaying the conversation in your head, the realization that he didn’t specify why he wanted to go to dinner hit. 

The rooftop was your favourite place in the hotel. Seeing other parts of Paris made the hotel feel small, like a normal business other than a safe haven for the criminal underworld as well as regular tourists alike. 

You went up early, earlier than the expected time. You could brainstorm what he wanted to talk about. New ideas that you decided to implement to various levels of success? You're planning on something to do with a section of the Catacombs, but no solid ideas yet.

You kept one security guard by the door, to the roof, while Chidi was someone skulking around somewhere. You talked to the chef before and arranged a menu for the evening. If the Marquis didn't like it you were sure that he would implore you to make changes.

His arrival was heard of before you saw him. A small nod from one of your guards alerted you that he was on his way up. You feel your nerves clawing in your stomach, back to fixating on why he wants this meeting.

While you hate to give him credit, he looks good. A suit that only seems to accentuate his long legs, a stunning red suit jacket, with a black tie and vest all over a white dress shirt. The chains across his vest and ring glinted in the light. He wouldn't be Vincent if not for dressing up like this. You slightly deflated realizing this was probably what he was wearing and not something special to see you. 

Bottle of champagne set in the ice bucket, stamped with the Continental embossing. He didn't change your menu so you assumed that he was content with it. Hoping you only had to so small talk with him until the food arrived or he decided to drop some sort of bomb on you.

“The view is beautiful,” he said, gaze burning into you. Wonderful. You have to make small talk before whatever he is here for is here.

You turned your head to see the Elifle tower situated against the evening sky. 

“It is.” you agree as you turn your face back to him, realizing that he never looked at the surroundings, but was looking at you. 

“C’est la ville du lumier”. Maybe the conversation would go faster if it was in french. 

“'La ville lumière'” he corrects you before switching back to English. “You do not use the 'du'”. 

Heat rises to your face after making a small mistake in French. 

“Sorry. My French is primarily used for business.” You let the last word hang in the air, both knowing what you meant. 

“How you do anything is how you do everything, Mademoiselle,” He says changing the subject. 

Like being annoying you think in reference to him choosing to call you mademoiselle, most show you respect by calling you The Manager, keeping with the sister hotels. You take a slow sip of your drink, stalling for anything to say. 

He places his hand on yours. 

“You approached dinner with me like you approach your hotel. Cautious yet optimistic Gracefully.” 

You sit in stunned silence. He gives your hand a small squeeze bringing your attention back to him,

“That is a compliment.” he continues. “It is good to see fresh ideas in the Continental.” 

You thank him quietly, thoughts racing as you try to pull everything together. He likes your ideas? All of the compliments, his hand on yours, the romantic location. Is he flirting with you? Does his speech about the way you do anything apply to him in the bedroom? What would that even be? Still annoying?

He takes a sip of his wine, the movement snapping you out of your perverted thoughts, finally, you find an opening for actual conversation. 

“I was thinking of something underground. With the catacombs? Or something inspired by them.”

You think he mumbled ‘tourist” under his breath but decided to let it slide. He tilts his head indicating you to keep going. 

“And something maybe like a speakeasy?” You saw him about to correct you but you kept speaking “Even though France only banned absinthe.” 

You expected him to be annoyed and you were only half right. Part of him was irritated, the other part proud that you are learning history. 

A slight clearing of the throat grabbed your attention. The food.

“Marquis de Gramont. Manager.” The server nodded toward you both before setting down the plates and leaving.  

The dinner a few weeks ago was the first time you spent time with him one on one (as long as you didn't include his guards). However, a quick mutual liking based on annoying each other took place. Almost like childish flirting, if you thought that he would date. Does he have an arranged marriage? You forbid yourself from googling Marquis traditions and rules. 

And maybe on the side of your friendship, you had a small crush. You tried to avoid it and push your feelings down to nothing, but a flash of his long legs in his exquisite style, or his voice pulls your feelings back to yourself.  

He could just be lonely. You didn't know his exact age but you guessed early 30s. Given the years of practice and training, those successful in your business were older. You were somewhat close to him in age, closer to him than some of the big names. 

Giving in you picked up your phone and punched in one of his numbers. While the phone rang you picture one of his staff bringing him the phone, probably on some kind of silver platter. On the few times you called him before one of his staff answered, asking you why you were calling. 

“Bonjour Mademoiselle. What do you need?” 

Oh shit. That's not his butler. That’s him. 

“Do you know much about wine? And are you free tomorrow night?” You try not to sound nervous and unsure on the phone, but his answering threw off your game. 

“Oui, and oui.”

Taglist: @heartrot666 (it will not let me tag you :-( )

[snowflakeanimelover]

Relationship: John Wick x Female Reader

Fandom: John Wick

Warnings: Reader’s point of view, fear, panic, kidnapping, non-con drug use, John doesn’t know what he’s doing, conflicted thoughts, fluff?, reader needs some comfort, drug after effects, sedation

Note: I didn’t get very much feedback, I appreciate those of you who do enjoy this short series. Not entirely sure if I’ll finish it, depending on how much feedback I get. Comments and reblogs give me motivation :D

────────༺♰༻────────

Chapter 1 | …

────────༺♰༻────────

Never Again |2|

As the fog of sleep began to lift, the woman felt the soft sheets beneath her, their coolness contrasting with the warmth of her skin. Her eyelids felt heavy, almost glued shut, but gradually, she managed to pry them open. Light filtered into the room, a soft glow that danced around the edges of her vision. Everything seems hazy, like she was viewing the world through a thin veil.

It took her a moment to gather her thoughts, but they scattered like leaves caught in a gentle breeze. Where was she? Her heart raced as she pushed herself up on one elbow, the motion causing a wave of dizziness to wash over her. She closed her eyes again for a moment, focusing on the familiar scent of the sheets – clean linen mixed with a hint of floral detergent. It was comforting, grounding her in this disorienting moment.

Memories flickered in and out, like scenes from a movie she couldn’t quite recall. There was a sense of worry threaded through her confusion. Has she been sick? Was this a hospital? She doesn't remember ever feeling sick when she had gone to bed after a long day of work. The sterile scent mixed with the clean aroma of her surroundings felt odd yet safe. She glanced around the room, noticing the pale walls and large windows covering one wall to her left. Moonlight filtered into the room from the windows, showing its pristine night routine. It appeared quiet and serene, miles away from the storm in her mind.

The haze within her head was enough to confuse her, quieting the alarms in the back of her mind. To the point where her gaze landed on something at the end of the bed she laid on. A figure. Tall, dark, and relaxed. It didn’t move as she squinted her eyes a little, hoping the blurriness of her vision would finally go away so she can see in the dark room.

It didn’t take long for the fogginess in her body to deteriorate, slowly but surely. Her vision slowly comes clear as she studies the figure sitting on something, facing her.

A man.

Alarms finally ring loud enough in her mind for her to realize this wasn’t normal. Her breath hitches as her body moves in alert. She pushes herself back with a gasp, struggling to sit up fully, but her body is sluggish—tired. A cold hard wall is pressed against her back, as far as she could move away as fast as she could, although she had completely forgotten she was in a bed. Not my bed, she realizes.

Panicked pants leave her lips as adrenaline pierces in her veins. All she could see was a man sitting at the end of the bed, relaxed in his seat as he stared at her. His gaze was intense, full of firm passion and sternness.

The woman couldn’t speak as silence envelops the room. She had so many questions. Where am I? Why am I here? Who is he? What happened? Was I kidnapped? The questions seem to get worse the more they pile up, and it was only starting to freak her out even more. She could feel her eyes and nose burn as tears tried to build up. Frightened and emotional, she tries her best to keep herself calm in such a situation. You can’t do anything if you freak out, she remembers her father telling her once, advice from a military veteran.

The longer the man before her doesn't speak, the more worried she gets. Is he going to hurt me? Or do something far worse? Did he do anything to me in my sleep? That last question rings in her ears as she quickly looks down at herself, seeing she’s in the same pajamas she wore when she went to bed. There were no markings, or at least from what she could see in the dark. Her body didn’t feel like it was in pain or invaded, just sluggish and tired.

”I didn’t touch you.” The sound of his soft yet deep voice made her jump. He was so quiet, she wasn’t expecting him to speak. Her head jerks up quickly to look back up at him, making sure he hadn’t moved. Luckily, he didn’t. “Like that, anyway,” he adds quietly, his body moving as if he was uncomfortable, nervous—gaze breaking away from her as he looked down, shifting in his seat.

For some reason she believed him. However, that doesn’t mean anything. She’s still scared, worried, and unable to process what the hell is going on. For a split second, she could feel confidence growing inside her as the first question pops in her mind. Her lips part to ask, but she doesn’t. No words come out, confidence leaving her system as if it had just been pushed away by some invisible force.

”How are you feeling?” He asks, shifting in his seat once more. It definitely looked as if he was nervous, awkward maybe. As if he has never done this before.

The woman doesn’t answer, though, as defiance takes over the little confidence she had. Why would he ask such a question? Who is he to act as if he cares, when he clearly kidnapped her? Was this some kind of joke? Maybe her friends thought this would be funny, recreating a scene in one of her favorite books. That thought almost made her laugh, but this felt way too real for it to be a prank.

The sight of him moving brings her back to reality. His dark form stands up, a bit of the moonlight allowing her a bit more clear sight on what he looks like. Long dark hair framed his long face, reaching just to the bottom up his neck. Beard as black as night covering almost the whole bottom of his face. It has grown in a certain way that was unique, crawling up just to the underside of his cheekbones. The beard was neatly trimmed.

Her gaze roams over his slim build. Formal attire covered his body, a mix of black and grays under the moonlight from the slacks, button-down shirt, and vest he wore. This man was good looking, she had to admit. But when he started to move, her body jolted in fear.

Seeing her reaction to his movements, he suddenly freezes. His dark gaze looked her over for a moment, before he slowly moved again. To her relief, though, he was moving away from her, not towards her. His feet thump against the hard tiled floor, shuffling over to the door. He pauses once more, back turned towards her for a long moment.

The woman had an assumption that he wanted to say something, but he didn't. She doesn’t relax until he opens the door, steps out of the room, and closes the door once more. A heavy click is heard soon after, and she feels her heart drop.

He locked the door.

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - VI

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence, divider by animatedglittergraphics

6. creature of the night

In the back of the yellow taxi driven by the faithful Chas, John makes a point not to touch you. You are so heartbroken by the events of the past half hour that it does not even register that Chas is driving you somewhere other than your mutual apartment building, until you pull up in front of a dilapidated storefront declaring “BOWL, BOW, BOWL” on the neon sign. 

“What…?”

“My friend Beeman’s place. Somewhere to lay low,” John explains, throwing open the door of the cab.  

“Thanks, Chas,” you say, because John never seems to find it necessary to do so. 

“Sure, y/n,” answers the young man. “Hey John–” 

John slams the door shut on Chas’s question. 

“You’re so mean to him,” you sigh.  

He only answers that with a snort, coughing to the side. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” 

He leads you through the doors, and up some stairs to a living space above the bowling alley. It is long, with high ceilings, white subway tiles, and crumbling lead paint on the paneling. A bank of windows stretches all down the wall. 

It’s an interesting space, but the windows could be a problem for you, come dawn. 

“There’s a big closet in the other room,” he assures you, like he can read your mind. 

He directs you into a chair at a long table, and all business, starts loosening his tie. 

“John…wait.” 

“You don’t have time to wait. You look like shit, and his blood will contaminate your ability to fight him.” He cocks his head, looking down at you. “Unless you don’t plan on fighting him? You looked pretty cozy when I found you.” 

A thread of heat dances down that connection between you, and you pause with surprise as you recognize it for what it is. Jealousy? After the way he’s avoided you? Is he fucking kidding right now? 

“You look like shit,” you counter, and you realize it’s true. His skin is sallow; there are dark circles under his eyes. He was always slender, but now he borders on too thin. You know he doesn’t take care of himself, but this is beyond the usual abuse. Was he not sleeping or eating because of you? You think on what Wick said to you. He doesn’t look good. I won’t have to wait long for you. What the fuck did that mean? “Are you ok?” you demand, standing to examine him more closely. 

“I’m fine,” he grouses, backing away. 

You don’t believe him, and the two of you stand in the kitchen facing off with each other, both pissed, though you suspect, for different reasons. 

Somehow you know if you keep pushing him, John will just refuse to talk to you at all, stubborn bull of a man that he is. So you change tack, appealing to the know-it-all in him. 

“What…is he?” 

“John Wick is a hybrid,” Constantine explains matter of factly. “Half human, half vampire. Your perfect predator. They have to drink vampire blood to stay alive, and they can live a long time.”

“He drank my blood,” you admit, touching the marks at your throat that still have not healed. Usually such an injury would have sealed over by now. “But then…he gave me some back.” 

Constantine snorts. “Yeah, I saw that.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“He said…I reminded him of someone he once knew.” 

“When you’ve lived as long as he has, probably everyone reminds you of someone,” John scoffs. 

“He slaughtered all of don Juan’s vampires, at Perla. Juan was going to hold me hostage to bait you. But then Wick came up the stairs, and…Jesus Christ. It was a massacre.” 

“Yeah. He does that.”

“Juan got away, and Wick…spared me.” 

“Spared you, huh? Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”

Your annoyance spikes. “You know, for someone who has been avoiding me like the plague, you sure seem to care about who I kiss!”

“You can makeout with whoever you want, sweetheart, I couldn’t care less. But what the hell were you doing at Perla?” 

His tone suggests he might feel otherwise.

“Hunting.” 

“At the Master’s own club? Are you kidding me?”   

For a moment you are taken aback, and then you really see red. “I didn’t know it was the Master’s club because you’ve never fucking told me anything, John!” Seething, you go on, “You didn’t have to fuck me. You didn’t have to feed me. But it would have been nice if you could have at least prepared me!”

In the end you are toe to toe, and points to John for not flinching while your eyes are flashing orange and your fangs are bared. 

“I tried,” he insists through his teeth, a lot more calmly than you. “But everytime I’m around you…”

You share blood and body fluids, is the short of it, and you know he’s not wrong.  

You let out a long breath, trying to calm down. The following inhale does not exactly help you; it’s all John, his yummy cologne and the scent of his skin and that beautiful essence coursing beneath it and jesus fucking christ no wonder he hates you. 

You retreat, turning your back on him, trying not to cry, trying not to yell, and trying not to tackle him to the floor to drink him down.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, and you mean it. “I didn’t know how to control it.” You think about that golden thread between you, and the way don Juan taunted you, and the name slung so freely by the vampire hunter like it was an insult. Maybe you have an inkling of why John’s been avoiding you like the plague. “What did I do to you, John?”

“I know you didn’t mean to.” 

He sounds as miserable as you feel. 

“Mean to what?”

“You made me your creature, y/n. Familiar, human servant, famulus, bonded, thrall, Renfield. You want all the names for it?” 

You turn to look at him, your heart breaking all over again. “I just…liked you, John.” 

More than liked him, apparently, but you’d rather die than admit it now. 

He nods, suddenly very interested in a stain on the wall, his jaw clenching. “I liked you too,” he admits. “But this is…not good.” 

You feel that light inside you, that warmth that is a part of him, somehow, a part of you. You tug on it, and he can’t help but look at you then. “It feels good?” you say.

“Yeah.” He takes a step closer towards you. “But if I was damned before…” Another step. “I’m really fucked now.” 

You shake your head, at such a loss. What kind of a God would forsake his children so freely, if not a complete sadist? Isn’t he supposed to be all love and forgiveness?

“We’re not bad people, John.” 

“I know. It doesn’t matter. There are rules.” 

“You know, you’ve never told me…why you think you’re going to Hell?”

“Because when I was a teenager, and driven to despair living in an institution because of the things God gave me the gift to see…I killed myself. I spent two minutes in the fiery pit before they brought me back, but it was enough. It’s…pure agony, y/n, and it lasts for an eternity.” 

Your lip quivers as the magnitude of what he’s telling you sinks in. Growing up, Heaven and Hell were such abstractions to you. Something you suspected your parents threatened you with just to get you to behave. But hearing him say it like this…you believe him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, John. Can it be undone? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” 

Sadly, he just shakes his head. Does that mean it’s irreversible? With a heavy sigh he sits down in one of the kitchen chairs, pulling over his bottle of Ardbeg and splashing a couple fingers into a glass. He doesn’t offer you any–not that you’d want it, but still rude. You shouldn’t be surprised by now. “I admit I didn’t think you could even do it yet, you’re so new.” 

You think about the power the two of you called up, the last time you were together. You’ve always been fire together, even when you barely knew each other. Isn’t that worth something? How is that not something gifted by God, if indeed that motherfucker does exist?

“Are you ready now?” he asks, sounding resigned, pulling his collar aside again. 

You look away, because the sight of his bare throat affects you like a teenager with a PLAYBOY centerfold, making you flush all over. Jesus Christ, will you ever not want him so much? 

Even with your belly full of dhampir blood; his pulse calls to you with a siren’s song.

His heart beats for you, your deepest instincts whisper, even while your head knows it's all a wishful thought.

“I can find someone else, John. I’ve caused you so much trouble.” 

The sound he makes at the thought of you with someone else low in his throat is nearly a growl–but then ends in a violent cough.

You take a step closer. “Are you sick? Do you have the flu or something?”

He actually laughs at that–then coughs some more. “No, I don’t have the flu.” 

“Then what?” 

The bitter curl of lips he offers you hurts your heart. “The irony is, I’d probably be dead by now if not for you.” 

“What?”

He lets out a long-suffering sigh. 

“I’m dying, y/n. I’ve got cancer.” He spits the last word, as though he finds it utterly absurd, like an insult God has personally bestowed upon him.

You feel as though the floor has dropped out from under you, a ringing in your ears like you were at ground zero of an explosion. Cancer? All the things this man has faced…and…he’s got fucking cancer? 

“How long have you known?” Your voice cracks with the effort to keep it all in.

“Not long.” 

“Prognosis?” you ask quietly, fearing the answer like the monster under the bed. 

“Not good.” When he sees your lip trembling he adds, “Please don’t fuss.” You don’t have much blood to spare, but you feel the sting of tears start to well in your eyes again. “And definitely don’t cry. Come on, y/n.” The admonition turns into a coughing fit. He turns his head, covering it with his sleeve. When he lowers his arm you see the stain of blood from his lips, and your heart hits rock bottom. 

“Oh my god. You should be in a hospital!” 

If you can sense so much, how did you miss this?

“Well…I’m kind of busy trying to save the world right now. Whatever Hell’s cooking up this time, it’s big. I can feel it. If I don’t stop it…nothing up here might matter anymore anyway.”

“Ok…what do we need to do?” 

He snorts. “We? Oh no. You’re staying out of it. I leave you unsupervised and you get tangled up with the Master of the City and the world’s most dangerous dhampir in one night?”

You clench your jaw, trying to hold it in. Your despair, and your frustration, because for someone so smart this man sure can be a fucking idiot. 

“John, you should be in treatment!”

He shrugs, paying you that rueful half smile that ties your heartstrings up in knots. It would be a full on grin for most people. You realize that he would fucking hate it if you started weeping all over him, but this form of expression of your grief for him is acceptable. This, he’s actually enjoying, the weird bastard. 

This man is going to be the death of you. 

You are on the verge of chewing him out when he tugs at that connection between you, and that golden coil inside you flares to life. You shudder, closing your eyes, hardly able to keep yourself from crawling into his lap. You’re trying not to be a horny mess in the middle of this serious discussion–and failing badly. 

“Feel that?” 

“What is it?” He has so much more experience with this metaphysical stuff than you. 

He chews on his answer for a long time, before finally admitting, “I’ve been doing some reading. I think…we’re bound.” 

“Bound how?” 

“Our life forces,” he tries to explain. “We can…feel each other. It’s how I found you tonight. I felt you calling me, I knew you were in trouble. And we make each other stronger. I think…you’re keeping me alive, for now, but I don’t know for how long. The cancer’s still getting worse, just…slower.” 

“You should have told me.” 

“I…didn’t know how,” he admits. Most people would have added, I’m sorry, but not John Constantine. 

You finally get up the courage to take another step closer, standing between his spread legs. You reach out to touch his face, tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone, the line of his dark hair around his ear. You should have noticed immediately that he was looking gaunt. His eyes close under your touch, a long sigh escaping him, and you sense how horrible it’s been for him to carry this burden all alone. Always so alone, your John, and mostly, by his own choice.  

“If you need money for chemo I’ll get it for you.” 

His lips twist with amusement at hearing that. “Yeah? You gonna rob a drug cartel for me, Miss Vigilante?” Such is the state of the American healthcare system, that such extremes might be necessary.

“That’s not a bad idea.” 

He laughs, then regrets it as the coughing takes over. “Jesus. I’m sorry,” you say, patting his shoulder.  

“This is why I can’t be around you,” he snarks deadpan. “I’ll lose a damn lung.” 

You sigh, unable to stop yourself from thinking about the woman you saw him with last night. 

“Does…Angela know?” 

He blinks at that. “No, why would she?”

“Isn’t she…your girlfriend?”

Again, he starts to laugh, then forces himself to be still, squeezing his eyes shut. “What? No, we just met.” His dark eyes are practically sparkling as he looks up at you now, unbearably smug. He thinks this is funny, and you are so not going to tell him you were ready to chew through the concrete of your apartment building after seeing them together. “She’s helping me with a case. Or I’m helping her. The demon half-breeds are up to something big. I think they’re after her.” 

“Oh.” You are the worst, because rather than sympathy for that poor woman, all you feel is relief. “I…that’s awful.” 

“Yeah. I warded her apartment while I’m trying to get to the bottom of it. If she stays put, she should be fine…in theory.” 

“Oh. That was…nice of you.”

You can tell John is fighting not to smirk at you. “Yeah, that's me.”

Annoyed by his cheek, you insist, “You like her though. I could tell.”

“She’s alright,” he answers, interested in a knot in the table suddenly.

“You want her. I guess I don’t blame you. She’s pretty cute.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“I’m dying, for one.”

“All humans are in the process of dying.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Just saying. Better not waste your time.” You're interested in the floor too, as you say this. The thought of him with another woman claws at your insides, but you try to handle it like an adult. 

“You trying to get rid of me now?”

“Did I ever have you?”

If you’d still had to breathe, you would have held your breath, waiting for his answer, yearning for some acknowledgement of what is between you. But he only shakes his head, at you or himself you’re not sure, pouring himself another drink.

Your heart sinks like a stone to the bottom of a cold, cold lake. 

“You trying to clear your dance card for John Wick?” 

“You mean Jardani?”

“Oh, Jardani?” he singsongs mockingly, fluttering his lashes. “No one’s called him that in this century.”

“Fine. Whatever his name is, the answer’s no. He scares the fuck out of me.” 

It’s mostly true, though maybe not for the right reasons. 

“You didn’t look too scared, in the alley together. You looked like you were going to eat each other.”

You kind of did exactly that, and you didn’t know it was possible to blush as a vampire, but goddammit there it is. Cherry red heat, blistering your cheeks and the tips of your ears. 

“I don’t have to take this from you,” you growl, turning to go, though where you have no idea. 

“Hey, wait.” He catches your hand in his, and you are reminded somehow of the last time you were together. You have the control not to throw him onto the floor this time, just looking at him from under your lashes. 

“I’ve been waiting, John,” you finally say, and there’s no accusation in it now. Just resignation. Because if what he says is true–you’ve got the time to wait, but he definitely doesn’t. It seems surreal, that he could actually be fatally ill.

He sighs, and you marvel at how much this man can convey with the expulsion of some air. Annoyance, and maybe even some regret.  “I warned you, when this whole thing started, that I’m not boyfriend material.”

Why does hearing him say that hurt so much? You feel the sting of tears again, but you don’t let them fall. “I never expected you to be my boyfriend, John.”

“Then what did you want from me?” 

He seems genuinely curious, maybe as confused about all this as you are, and looking down into his soulful dark eyes you realize you don’t actually have an answer. You have all these feelings for this man, all this emotion that feels like a goddamn electrical storm crackling inside you, and yet…what did you want from him? Chocolates? Flowers? Love poems? You fucking knew better than that. You weren’t going to date like a normal couple. You weren’t going to move in together or meet each other’s parents. “I don’t know,” you admit, sounding as surprised as you feel. “Just some acknowledgement, maybe, that I meant something to you. 

He lifts an eyebrow to that. “Okay. Consider it acknowledged.” 

Somehow, this doesn’t exactly satisfy you. Disgusted, more with yourself than him now, you try to retreat again, but he won’t let go of your hand. 

“I like you, y/n,” he says with emphasis, squeezing your palm like there’s something you’re supposed to be reading between the lines. “But I don’t have anything to offer you except a target on your back. I’ve brought you nothing but trouble.”

“Is that what you really think?”  

Does he hate himself so much?

“I know it, y/n.” 

You can’t help but think of the joy you’ve felt in his arms. The pleasure, and the triumph, and the utter elation. That is why you have chased him, you realize. Because in the fleeting moments in which you catch him–you feel like you’re on top of the world. No one else has ever come close to making you feel the way John Constantine does–and if you say any of this out loud you’re afraid he’ll roll his eyes and laugh at you. 

With his handsome face in your hand you lean down as though drawn by a string, hoping to show him how you feel instead. Can’t he feel it, through this connection between you? The way you adore him? You think you feel it start to glow, and if you can invoke that magic you shared before, then surely he’ll understand. Maybe he will value himself more, if he understands how precious he is to you. He watches your approach with parted lips, his eyes fixed on you. But at the last minute he turns his head, and you freeze with mortification for his rejection. 

“You’ve still got dhampir blood in your mouth,” he says quietly, not meeting your gaze. 

He’s not wrong, of course. You didn’t exactly have a chance to brush your fucking teeth–and maybe that is pretty gross. 

You disgust him. 

You are a bloodsucking creature of the night, and even if he’s dying inside, he’s a demon hunter to the bone. 

Why you ever thought he could love you, is anyone’s guess.