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johnwickb1tsch · 5 months ago

Note

Everyone is sending GIF requests, so, here is mine. Hint: Jealous John? (Though I doubt this man can ever be jealous but...whatever comes to your genius brain)

Thanks!

@sweetwolfcupcake SWEEETS!!!!! I loved this prompt SO MUCH!!! You're such a genius. *kisses your head* I hope you like this! 💗💗💗

Bodyguard!John Wick x Shy!Curvy!Fem!Student!Reader

⚠warnings: threat of noncon (not John), mention of parental death

For the record, you didn’t mean to fall in love with John Wick. But he was nothing like the other goons your father had tasked with guarding you before. Wick was tall, and handsome, and had the soulful eyes of a poet. You know he’s dangerous; he can kill a man 30 ways with a pencil (the men of your father’s Bratva will not shut up about it) but he seems so…gentle. And the thing that really proved your undoing?

That good looking bastard was bookish, and it did something inconceivable to your lit major brain. Ever your dark shadow, you spent countless late nights in the library together, and so many Saturday afternoons browsing the used bookshops, combing for treasures. He would rescue the books that looked better fit for the waste bin, taking them to repair. Maybe he was there to protect you, for your father had many unsavory enemies, but it was easy to forget when John discussed with you the finer points of the Bloomsbury Set or the themes of Anna Karenina.

Maybe your father assigned John to you because he was one of the few gangsters around in his brigata one could trust to guard a relatively innocent young lady–that didn’t mean John was safe from you. You just couldn’t help yourself; you’d like to plead insanity, your honor, the night you finally broke and tried to kiss him, while he was helping you with your homework for Russian Lit 301.

How stupid you felt, how utterly pathetic, when he’d very kindly dislodged you from his so soft mouth, looking at you with pity in his sad dark eyes. “You know…we can’t do this,” he told you.

Mortified, you’d fled to your room and cried, knowing you are the most ridiculous human being on the face of the earth.

What were you thinking?

You are nothing like the tall, ethereal creatures that populate the clubs where Wick frequents with your father. You are shy, and curvy, and frankly…a nerd. An old soul, your father would say fondly, but you know he is just being kind.

You’re not sure how you got it into your head, that you were going to make Wick sorry. You’ve never been one for going out, but you decide to give it a whirl, wanting to be anyone but yourself. You decide to go to the Red Circle, to hang out with the other Bratva brats who care way more about clubbing and clothes and who’s fucking who, than classes at NYU.

At first you really hate it–but after a few shots of vodka, it’s not so bad. John has to hang back, keeping an eye on you but not interacting with your friends. He’s scary good at lurking in the shadows, but you know he’s keeping an eye on every move you make. Maybe that’s why you let Alexsei kiss you, the son of a semi-friendly loan shark who works in proximity with your father. You don’t really like him, if you’re being honest. But he’s not totally hideous–and he’s there–and John will have to watch it all.

You and Alex start to have a thing. It’s no big deal. Something to do, on the summer break from your studies. You invite him over to watch a movie, knowing you’ll have the house to yourself. Your father is always at his office doing business, your idiotic brother is always out getting into trouble with his khuligan friends, and your mother…is dead, God rest her poor soul.

You can tell Alex is a little drunk, when he shows up at your door. He’s very handsy, when you settle in on the couch to watch the latest mindless action flick, his pick. It’s ok, until he tries to unbutton your pants.

You have a secret.

You’re 21, nearly graduated from university–and you’re still a virgin.

This is not a thing you intend to give to Alexsei Plushenko. You don’t even really like the way he touches you.

“Stop, Alex.”

“Don’t be scared,” he tries to coax you. “This will be fun.”

“No,” you say. “Let’s just…”

He covers your mouth with his, shutting you up, his heavy body pinning you on the couch. “Don’t be such a stuck up bitch.” His groping fingers squeeze your breast clumsily, painfully, before fumbling with your jeans again. You try to push him off, but he’s heavy, and strong.

Suddenly, he is yanked from you like he weighs nothing at all. You hardly recognize what is happening at first, until you hear the sound of flesh striking flesh. John is on him, his iron fist meeting the younger man’s face.

“John! Stop!”

Wick looks up at you, meeting your eyes in a primal lock of stares–your heart drops and soars again, as you feel as though you’ve stumbled on a wolf over his kill, and the wildest thing?

You get the inkling that wolf is jealous.

“Don’t hurt him anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. A beating will make some complications for your father. A death? Could mean war.

Wick punches the handsy young man one more time, his eyes never leaving yours, before hauling Alex up by the collar and frog marching him out the front door, tossing him down the concrete steps of your home.

John finds you waiting for him in the marble foyer, his eyes wild, his knuckles torn. You don’t even know what to say.

“What did you even see in him?” he finally demands, clearly annoyed.

“He wasn’t you,” you answer without thinking.

Wick steps up to you, toe to toe, so that you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. His hair has broken free from its slicked back style, tendrils in his eyes.

He’s never looked more beautiful, your savage savior.

“You’re trying to get me killed.”

You shake your head, the very thought anathema to you. You are transfixed, unable to look away, unable to think. “You’re too precious to me,” you admit, and screw your eyes shut the moment you admit it, a spear of mortification piercing you from your heart to your stupid, aching, cunt.

“Milaya…”

It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said to you.

Your eyes drop to his knuckles, torn open in his defense of you. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Not to me.” You don’t know where you get the courage, to take his hand, and lead him up to your room. You can hardly believe it, that he actually follows you. In your ensuite bathroom you dab at his knuckles with a washcloth, slather him with ointment and plaster him with bandaids. You run out of sober flesh colored ones, so the last cut gets a Disney bandage, Ariel and sea-flowers decorating this severe man’s knuckles.

He lets you do all this, watching you intensely with those dark eyes you’re certain can see into your soul. You stand too close–and he lets you, this haunted man who watches over you day and night. Your whole life you have never wanted for anything, your father’s money buying you all your heart could possibly desire.

Until now.

You find it hard to meet his eyes, zeroing in on a spot of blood on his stark white dress shirt.

“Y/n.” With a gentle knuckle under your chin he turns your gaze up to his again. “You are too smart, and too beautiful, to be wasting your time with a fuckboy like Alexsei Plushenko.”

The first part you already knew. The second, from this man’s lips? Your knees nearly collapse out from under you, a flood of excitement and dread coursing through your system. You almost can’t stand it–it’s like being burned alive, and your native shyness rears with a vengeance.

You try to flee, back to the safety of your room, and your books, your imaginary lives that can’t really hurt you–but he catches your hand. His grip is not hard, but it is enough to stop you dead in your tracks.

“Y/n…” He’s pleading with you, but you don’t understand what he’s asking you.

“You said you don’t want me, John…” you say, still unable to meet his eyes. “So let me go.”

He answers by pulling you against him, the solid line of his torso a brick wall beneath the hand you raise to catch yourself. But bricks are not warm, like the flesh beneath his designer clothes. You can feel the wires in your brain sizzling, the synapses simply melting down. Your heart is Chernoble waiting to happen.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said–”

“I said, ‘We can’t.’ Not, that ‘I don’t want you.’”

You almost cannot breathe, your heart attempting to beat out of your chest, a ringing in your ears that drowns out all else. There is nothing, nothing, in this world you’ve wanted more, than to hear those words from this man. But now that he’s standing before you, against you, holding you–you cannot move. You do not know what to do.

He solves this problem by cupping your cheek in his big hand–God, how you’ve noticed those hands–and then he is pressing his mouth to yours, gentle at first, but then…hungry. As though John Wick has been starving, for you, and it’s all you can do just to stand there and take it without melting into a puddle on the floor. His arms wrap around your back, holding you, lifting you to your tiptoes as he devours you. When at last he pulls back you are left seeing stars, struck utterly speechless with your hands on his broad shoulders.

“Tell me to stop,” he raggedly demands, his eyes boring down into yours.

Finally, you find your courage, meeting his stare. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper.

“Good. Because I don’t think I can.” He kisses you again, just as hungrily as the first time, his arm an iron band around your waist and his fingers sneaking up into your hair. That’s your kryptonite: your hair, and blithely you know he can do anything and everything he wants to you now.

Your father is a bad man, but you have not had a bad life. You have never known hunger, or true physical pain. He has protected you from the violence of his world. He has played things smart enough that not even the FBI can touch you, even though they absolutely know what he is and where your family gets its money. Despite all this, you have been dying inside, a slow, withering demise, until John Wick’s lips touched yours. He is the life-giving rain over the desert; your heart is a field of wildflowers erupting in a superbloom.

This time, he leads you, in between kissing you, to the loveseat at the foot of your bed. He sits, and only when he tries to pull you into his lap do you resist. “John…I’m too…much,” you insist, conscious of your generous flesh and what it would be like to set that on top of him, afraid he’ll be horrified.

However, he just scoffs at you, grabbing you up anyway and guiding you down. For a moment you are weightless–he knows how to upset a person’s balance, how to use their weight against them to put them on the floor. This time he uses it to put you on him. You’re not exactly proud of it, but the ease with which he utterly manhandles you makes your long-neglected lady parts sing with desire.

“You are perfect, dietka,” he insists, pulling you closer with hands on your round behind, “And I am very strong.” For the first time in you can’t remember how long–he smiles at you. That beautiful half smile with a sparkle in his dark eyes that takes your breath away–you love him so much it hurts.

This time you don’t feel so shy, about kissing him. You feel like your bones are filled with butterflies, and you both moan and giggle as you do your best to devour each other from the mouth down. Aside from an appreciative squeeze of your thighs bracketing his hips, he doesn’t try to seduce you, even though you know you absolutely would have given him anything he asked you for. He is content, just to kiss you, for this night at least, and oh. He’s good at it too.

You decide you would burn down the world, for one more kiss from John Wick.

Later you find yourself snuggled in your bed with John, fully clothed, your head on his shoulder as he toys with the fine hairs at the back of your neck. His touch is heaven, and with your legs twined with his it’s hard not to squirm and writhe against his muscled thigh like a horny little gremlin.

Later, you tell yourself. It can wait for later.

Like maybe, tomorrow.

“We’ll have to be careful,” he warns you. “If your father…”

If your father found out, the best thing that could happen to John is getting fired.

“I won’t let you get hurt,” you promise, kissing his bearded cheek, praying you’re telling the truth.

He chuckles at this; a deep sound you feel more than hear. “I thought that was my job?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know.” He looks down at you with a tenderness that curls your toes. “It would be worth it, for you.”

Your heart has suddenly decided it would like to take up residence in your throat–permanently.

“Oh, John…”

He kisses you again, a soft brush of lips that renders you weightless. This is how you die: it’s almost too much to stand, this impossibly full feeling in your chest. Then he narrows his eyes at you playfully. “You have been driving me mad, you little minx. I wanted to kill everyone who so much as looked at you in the Circle.”

You snort at the thought–you do not understand, really, that he could absolutely do it too.

“Not to worry. I think the library is more my speed.” He rests his head against yours with a small, contented sigh. “Mine too,” he admits. The smell of old books around you is a soothing balm to you both.

You know small bits of his past. Morsels he has sprinkled, here and there in the conversations you have had. You know he did not have an easy childhood. You know that this life was not really his choice. Even less so than most, who move and work in the Underworld.

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” you ask.

He lifts an eyebrow at you. “I’m liking New York, at the moment,” he tells you with an affectionate squeeze.

“Oh come on.”

“Fine. I like Paris a lot.”

“Hmm,” you answer, but what you think, is: Done. You will have the opportunity to arrange to study abroad soon, and you think a trip away from the Tarasov territory might do you both some good.

Surely Papachka wouldn’t deprive you of your most trusted bodyguard?

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader

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sirshio · 4 months ago

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I promised you all a long essay on Cavendish and his autism, so here it is. But first, some notes.

Disclaimer number 1: there are headcanons about Cavendish's parents and childhood, but they logically connect to his behavior.

Disclaimer number 2: I'm an autistic person and this essay is about my own experience with this disorder. Though many traits are common for autistic people, it's possible you won't find your issues because I don't have them.

Disclaimer number 3: I'm not a therapist (not a professional one at least, just a huge fan of psychology and a child of a therapist), but I’m a person who deeply relates to Cavendish and wants to share this with fandom.

Disclaimer number 4: English isn't my first language, so sorry for possible mistakes and all this stuff, I’m doing my best.

Well, let's start with something small and not so noticeable and then move to things that are almost impossible not to see.

- his gestures. Not only that moment in "Smooth opera-tor", where he squishes a gummy bear (and Dakota said that he "hypnotized himself"), because I assume that this action is recognizable as pretty autistic without explanations.

Have you noticed how he holds his hands together (what is important, when he was young, too) or clenches them in fists? I'm not sure if these actions do have a name (a type of stimming probably), but I do the same pretty often and in completely different moods, I just like to FEEL my body and my skin, this is a soothing and nice feeling, and when I'm nervous, it helps to calm down a little (let's remember how in "First impressions" Cavendish entered Mr. Block's office).

Another gesture that is important to mention is when Professor Time called him by his name and Cavendish literally squealed and held his hands close to his cheeks (in “Phineas and Ferb effect”). Not sure if this is autistic, but I can relate, so I decided to mention this scene too.

(Him touching and holding Dakota will be in another section, though it's somewhat about gestures too)

- his speech. Again, I have no idea if him using rare words (for example, the word “scrumptious”) is an autistic trait, but I like to do this, mostly because I have a special love for words and I like when my speech is as "bookish" as possible, and him quoting Shakespear “the game is afoot” makes me relate to him too, sometimes I like quoting authors from the past. Another thing that I find important is that Cavendish (unlike Dakota) looks like a well-mannered and polite guy, but sometimes it is Dakota who shows politeness and knows how to talk to people nicely. For example, in "The little engine that couldn't" Dakota uses some polite clichés in his conversation with Milo and confuses Cavendish who understands them literally. Or in “Field of screams” Dakota teaches Cavendish how to ask politely (in the scene with that man who believed in aliens). I think that these two examples show different autistic traits that I have too: understanding everything literally and being (slightly) confused about communicating with other people. Like, why should I ask politely? Why should I be nice to people I don't personally like?

- him listing places where Dakota should've put Time Grenade instead of a hollow pumpkin (in “Milo’s Halloween Scream-a-torium”). Again, I'm not sure if this is autistic, but I can relate, too. I love lists.

- his love for rules. As an autistic person, I like to read rules, to make rules (in the most pedantic way you can imagine) and to follow them (of course, literally) - but I follow only rules I understand and like. So I can relate to young Cavendish enjoying both reading rules for time vehicles and using them, but I can also relate to Cavendish who broke rules and wanted to steal some cool gadgets with Dakota (in “Abducting Murphy’s law”). He doesn't like these rules, that's why he easily disrespects them (and actually likes it). I still don't know why I love rules (and I know this is common for autistic people). Maybe because they help to make life predictable, maybe because they help me to behave "in a proper way" and to be accepted... or both at the same time.

- him talking to himself. Once again, I'm not sure if this is autistic or not, but I do this pretty often.

When I'm excited and/or anxious about doing something new, I often talk to myself, like: "Okay, Shio, let's get going, you can do it!" Remember "First impressions", a scene where young Cavendish sits in his student car and is very proud of himself? The same situation, I think.

- him being a Professor Time fanboy. Remember the scene where our gang visited Doofenshmirtz and Cavendish was so excited about seeing his idol (in “Phineas and Ferb effect”)? Above all, he mentioned he has underwear with Doofenshmirtz's image and offered to show them. Well, it was done as a joke, but this is something I can relate to. If I met my very special idol (I assume that Doof is that figure for Cavendish, he actually said that), I would want to share something personal about myself with them. Not my underwear, of course, but still.

- the way he acts and how he expresses emotions. I believe that's very popular among autistic people, that often it's very hard to suppress our emotions. There are more things that cause emotions (things that are just okay for others), we're somehow more emotional than other people (at least I am) and often don't think if this is appropriate to express these emotions right now. I was told to "act normal and quiet" A LOT of times throughout my entire life, and I only was being sincere with myself and my feelings. Let's look at Cavendish, his emotions and how he expresses them. At the beginning, he seems to be calm and well-mannered, but the more we see, the more we can understand that this is not true. He can pretend to be calm, and the way he does it makes me think that his parents had no idea (and didn't want to have this idea, to be honest) how to raise an autistic child. I'm sure that every time little Cavendish got emotional and was acting "inappropriate" (I say it once more, it's really common for autistic people), he was told to calm down and to be normal. That's why (maybe, but this is my headcanon) he pretends that he's super calm and "above all those sillies". But when he's either in a comfortable situation and feels safe and secure (with Dakota, naturally) or gets really emotional - or both - he lets himself be sincere. He exclaims in joy, he shakes Dakota or holds him close, he acts like a dedicated and overhyped fan (over Professor Time, I mentioned this before).

- him focusing on "wrong" things. Again, that happens with me really often. For example, in “School dance” Mr. Block tells these two to do their job because they have no proof Milo is a special agent, but all that Cavendish got from his speech is that he is allowed to find this proof, because this is what is interesting and important to him, which means he stopped listening after that. I can relate so much!

- his somehow childish behavior, especially in episodes with Dennis, his teddy bear. I found a great post by @heloflor . You SHOULD read it right now, before you end my essay.

Autistic people grow in another way, it's different from other people. In some areas of life we're more mature that other people of our age, and in some we're much more immature. I think this is because autistic children aren't allowed to have a childhood that they need. We're very uncomfortable (because the world is scary, there are loud noises, cars can kill you, being in a crowd is a life-threatening situation) and we can't even help ourselves or even express how afraid we are because This Is Inappropriate. Adults near us don't understand our special interests, they think getting stuck with them is a sign of developmental delay, that we're forever mentally infants. We even can't have our comfort objects that help us to live in this very scary world, because - let's repeat again - This Is Inappropriate. Heloflor wrote a really good post about Cavendish's comfort object, please go and read what he thinks about it!

So, to sum up: Cavendish is not childish, he tries his best to deal with his life, he hasn't really had a childhood and tries to fulfill what he needs now.

Before I'll continue with my analysis of Cavendish's autistic traits, I want to talk about his (pretty low) self-esteem. Of course, it's connected to his mental disability, but it is not the same. As we can see, Cavendish needs praise from someone, he needs to be told that he’s done something right, he can't understand it by himself. He and Dakota saved the world? He can't accept that he did good without praise from Mr. Block. What is also important is how he reacts when someone scolds him (in “Time out” there was a scene where where Cavendish lost a vial of strange liquid that caused rat mutation and Brick scolds him). Just look at him at this moment, he is like a child when his parents are angry at him.

This all makes clear that in his childhood his parents weren't happy with his behavior and never told him anything good about him. If a person can't value themselves, this means their parents didn't value them, didn't love them for who they are (or didn't show this love enough and properly). I believe that it is very difficult for Cavendish to understand that he can be loved because he is, well, Cavendish (NO SHIO PLEASE DON'T QUOTE DAKOTA NO).

When someone has a really low self-esteem, but at the same time has somebody who loves him (as a partner, as a friend, as a relative…), there are several ways to act about that (they may mix). First is to do everything for this person, to become a perfect friend/partner/child/etc. Because only when you're perfect, you deserve love. Always to be by their side, always to understand their feelings (without them telling how they feel), always to share their interests. And I mean always, like, really always. Second is to do something not nice on purpose, something that will annoy this person or make them sad, just to show them that you're NOT nice and do NOT deserve love. (I believe there are more ways, but I know only these two). And I think Cavendish chooses the second way in “Abducting Murphy’s law”, where he loses his temper when Dakota doesn’t believe him.

This whole episode (“Look at this ship”) is another important thing about Cavendish and his autism. First, it seems that Dakota is the closest and the most important person for Cavendish, he believes him, he feels comfortable with him, he feels that Dakota understands him and his special needs (just look at this post about a teddy bear), so it's natural that Cavendish expects Dakota to believe him that he saw an alien ship, but Dakota doesn't, and it's when Cavendish gets emotional and throws a tantrum. I don't excuse him, but I can relate. When someone that is so precious and dear to me, who always understands me, suddenly doesn't believe me, I feel hurt and not needed, I want to leave this person, I think that they are better off without me. And I think that is exactly what happened to Cavendish. Of course Dakota didn't deserve that (in fact, he said that he believes in Cavendish's belief, what means he respects him even without fully understanding), but again, Cavendish’s reaction is normal for someone like him. I believe that his parents never really cared about his needs, his emotions and so on, so Dakota who does this became the most important person. This makes his disbelief even more hurtful. And in addition, Cavendish already was very upset because of them being fired and treated clearly not as he wanted. All this make his emotional condition really bad, and Dakota's words were the last straw.

Second, the alien ship itself is for me a big metaphor for autism. There's something that is important to us (be it a sensor overload, a special need etc.) that other people don't see and don't understand. And some (a lot of) people will never understand, no matter how hard we try to explain. Sometimes it's devastating, sometimes we begin to fear that there's really nothing, sometimes we stop believing ourselves (a scene where Cavendish tries to prove that there's an invisible ship and jumps on it, but at this exact moment there is really no ship). Why didn't he just take Dakota to this thing? Because he already hadn’t believed him, and this is enough. Cavendish tries to get validation from some “experts” (journalists), but all that is in vain.

In addition, I think it is really important that this ship is alien (and not just invisible). Because for other people we are like aliens. We don't understand your rules, your emotions, your culture, we act strange and inappropriate, we are weird… And often you just think we imagined all this, that we are weird or crazy. We don't exist, like aliens.

One more thing before I end this pretty lengthy essay. I'm so glad that in this series people with mental disabilities and issues (like Cavendish) don't look like cute little orphans from a sweet holly story who are so easy to be compassionate with. No, sometimes they are selfish jerks and it's difficult to build a relationship with them. And I think this is really, really important. We are not “quirky and adorkable cuties”, we are people who are often difficult to be with. And it is difficult to be us.

Phew, this is a long essay. I hope I haven’t forgotten anything important! But if you think I have, please feel free to reblog and add :) And I hope you liked what I’ve written.

I wasn't planning to get emotional, but I clearly failed, because Cavendish is so special to me.

P.S. my Tumblr app is crazy, it doesn't allow me to make a post with actual screenshots, that's why I took photos of a screen instead :( sorry for inconvenience.

#milo murphy's law #mml #dakavendish #balthazar cavendish #vinnie dakota #analysis #mental health #mental disability #actually autistic #autism #shio's thoughts

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