#but the sky was so beautiful idk if it'll look like that again it felt special

[iloveyoualivegrl]

the view on the car ride home today was so beautiful i started tearing up in the car.. but i had to hold tiuku bc he gets nervous in the car so i couldnt take photos. I'm still mourning

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

The Neighbor

A/N: Gif isn't mine. If you're the creator, please let me know so I can give you the credits.

Pairing: John Wick X Reader

Word count: 2.2K

Requested by: @massive-freaking-fox

{“My new neighbor is simultaneously the scariest and nicest people I’ve met.” But with John Wick and reader? Like the reader is his new neighbor and kinda a slow burn after she gets over being intimidated by him?? Idk I like all things fluffy and that sounds like a good one}

{John Wick Masterlist}

×

The wind messes with your hair, making a shiver roll down your spine. Pulling your feet up on the small, wooden table you have on the front garden of your house, you can't help but stare at the bigger, larger house beside your own. But it's not the house itself that gets your undivided attention. It's the owner. The man with the weirdest routine you ever knew. You've seen him, messy hair, playing with his dog, but also in an impeccable dark suit, hair slid back. When you see him like that, he's gone for a while. Days, weeks.

The look in his eyes used to scare you. You had the feeling that his stare alone was enough to make people shake like a leaf, surrender everything they own.

You remember the first time you laid eyes on him. Taylor, the only friend you had made back then, since you moved here, asked for your company on a morning walk. She lives down the street, so you joined her when she passed by your place. A few steps and something caught your eye. You saw him moving inside, through the windowpane, and for some reason, you stopped, shamelessly staring. He was facing away, his strong, muscular back everything you could see.

“(Y/N),” Taylor called you. “Oh.” She mumbled once she noticed what you were looking at. “That's Mr. Wick. I don't know the first name. He's not very social.”

The man turned around and you involuntary held your breath. The way his dark hair fell on his face, hiding his eyes made you give a step back.

“Hey,” Taylor called you once more, snapping a finger in front of your face. “I know he's hot, but I can't believe you're already daydreaming.”

“What?” You finally looked away, eyes now focusing on your friend. The feeling you had was far from what Taylor suggested, but it was still unnamed. “I wasn't daydreaming. Let's get moving.” When you started walking again, you couldn't help but give one last look. And you felt like hit by a car when you got him already staring, straight at you.

The memory makes you shiver more than the wind, which gets colder every passing minute. The sun is setting, and soon it'll be dark. But you're still looking at the house, which it's empty. Mr. Wick. John Wick, left more or less a week ago, dressed to impress as usual. Your mind floats back to the day he told you his first name, the day when he didn't make any effort to hide he was interested in you.

The accidental meeting happened a few weeks after the first time you saw him, after a handful of times that you bumped into each other on the sidewalk. He always smiled kindly and greeted you with a good morning or a good evening. But on that particular night, after you left Taylor's house and started making the way back home, a storm broke loose and the sky fell on you. You had been feeling ill all day, but chose not to give much thought about it. But then, under the cold, heavy rain, you had to focus on keeping your legs working. Bracing yourself, you groaned when your foot slipped, making you fall, your arm hitting the ground hard.

“Damn it.” You muttered, the loud noise of a car stopping suddenly getting your attention. The rain clouded your vision as a blur moved towards you, and arms pulled you up, back to your feet.

“Miss (Y/L/N).” He had said. “Are you alright?”

You could only nod, the words caught in your throat because you were aware of how close to his body he was holding you. Mr. Wick stood tall, way taller than you, like a tower. You didn't want to, but the cold was taking over, and your body collided against his, seeking some warmth. “I'm ok.” You lied, looking up and meeting those dark eyes, as dark as the night that surrounded both of you. That time you noticed he was much older than you and the proximity allowed you to feel the muscles under the suit. You couldn't help but feel intimidated, suddenly so small and fragile.

“Come. Let me drive you home.” Mr. Wick guided you to his car, opening the passenger door and helping you in. You were feeling terribly dizzy, so you didn't complain.

“I-I live on the house next to yours.” You said, shaking like a leaf. “On the left.”

“I know.” He answered, giving you a worried look.

Once he stopped by your house, you opened the door and started making the way to the front door, thankful to reach the porch that offered shelter from the rain, but not from the cold. You searched for the keys, but soon enough you remembered you had left them at Taylor's, on her kitchen table. Alongside your phone.

“Shit.” You whispered to yourself, looking over your shoulder, seeing that Mr. Wick was still standing there, in the rain, as if waiting for you to get in.

You didn't quite understand why you felt so scared of him when he had been nothing but gentle to you on every single occasion you happened to meet. But the very sight of him sends a wave of nervousness through your body. Mr. Wick walks, talks, and even breathes like he hides something, a secret, dark and dangerous. Or maybe it was just the cold and the dizziness messing with your head.

“You may go, Mr. Wick. I... I will have to get back to my friend's. I forgot the keys.” You told him, pushing the wet hair away from your face. “And my phone.”

“I won't let you go back there in this weather. You're clearly feeling sick.” Mr. Wick walked over you, reaching out his hand. “Come to my house. I'll make something warm for you to drink and you can use my phone to call your friend.”

Your answer would be no, obviously. But a flash of bright lightning crossed the sky, followed by a rumble of deafening thunder, which, it seems, was loud enough to open up the skies and strengthen the rain, if that was even possible. “I promise I only want to help.” He said, and that made you nod and step forward, taking his hand.

Mr. Wick had an arm around your waist during the short walk to his house. You breathed out, relieved for the warmth when you stepped in. While he disappeared into the house, you seated on the coffee table instead of the couch, since you were soaking wet. He was quick to bring you a towel and a tea, handing you his cellphone. But for some reason, Taylor wouldn't pick up, so you had no choice but to hand Mr. Wick his phone back. It seemed like the whole Universe was against you that night.

“She won't answer.” You said feeling his fingers brushing on yours when he took the phone from your cold, shaking hand. Looking up, you noticed he changed into dry clothes. Jeans a white T-shirt. He looks handsome, as he always does. There must be a reason for him not to have a girlfriend or anyone in his life. There must be a catch, a plot twist somewhere here. Someone looking like Mr. Wick must have a long trail of hearts wanting to belong to him. “I'm sorry, Mr. Wick, for all the trouble I'm causing you.”

“You may call me John.” He said, sitting on the couch before you. You didn't know why, but it came out to you that he moved like a predator, steady and always in full alert. But his voice was kind, low and calming. He knew you were scared of him, of course, he did. Nothing goes unnoticed by him.

“You may call me (Y/N), then.” You muttered, sipping on your tea.

“A pretty name for a pretty lady.” The compliment made you smile, looking down to hide your blushing cheeks. “I can give you dry clothes. Until you get to contact your friend.”

And so he did. Mr. Wick... John... Gave you one of his sweatpants and shirt, and you changed off of your soaking clothes. You felt stupid, ugly, in his baggy clothes, bracing yourself as if trying to disappear as you made your way back to the living room, ignoring how cold the floor was under your bare feet. John's eyes lingered for a while, as you walked over him, taking a seat on the couch, keeping a distance.

“May I... May I ask what do your work with, Mr... John.” You corrected yourself and he smiled. The question only came up because the silence was as intimidating as him. Any kind of conversation would help, you thought.

“I'm retired.” He simply said. “What about you?”

“I'm an office administrator. From a... An office that sells medical equipment.” God, you sounded like an idiot. You felt so small, tiny, compared to him. And ugly, set side by side with him. From this up close, his handsomeness was shocking, breathtaking. The way his eyes were set on you made you shiver, clearing your throat, you tried to push the words out. “I just started though... I just moved here two months ago.”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

His question got you by surprise, and you looked up, meeting his intense eyes. “No. I just...” A humorless laugh left your lips, and you pushed the hair away from your face. “I must look so bad in these.” You gestured at yourself, and then to him. “And you're just... More. I mean...”

You froze when you felt his hand on your face, fingertips running across your jaw, leaving a trail of fire. “I think you look beautiful. Even on my baggy clothes.”

You suddenly realized you wanted to kiss him. The sudden change was a surprise, and you were perplexed with yourself. The fear was slowly sinking, opening a new space, which was being filled with something else. Curiosity. A sudden need to know why John was touching you so gently, why he was saying those things. You felt your body moving closer to him, almost as if being pulled involuntary, like a magnet. You wanted to touch him, to know how he's beard would feel under your fingers, but you didn't know if you could.

“Can-can I...” You stuttered, biting your tongue. How was it possible, that your mind worked in such a weird way? That all of a sudden, you wanted him, the man you've been trying to avoid? You were a mess that night, threatening to fall apart right before him.

John took your hand, softly, bringing it to his lips and placing a kiss on your fingers, as soft as silk. You felt his stubble, eyes fixed of the shape of his lips. “You don't have to be so nervous around me, (Y/N),” John said, his voice barely a whisper. “And, if you want, I'd like to take you out on a date.”

“You want to take me out?” You repeated, speaking too fast, trying to understand why in the hell would a man like John wants to go on a date with a girl like you. It didn't make sense, and you had this feeling that trying to understand would only lead to a dead end.

“I do.” You muttered because there was no other possible answer. Another kiss came, this time on your cheek, dangerously close to your lips.

A car approaching drags you away from the warm memory, and you're finally able to avert your eyes from his house. You miss him, and somehow looking at the empty house makes you feel a little better. He did take you out, on the next night. And you have been to several dates by now, too many to count.

“My neighbor is simultaneously the scariest and nicest person I ever met.” You told Taylor on the day after your second date with John Wick. She laughed and you blushed, because on the night before, John kissed you by your front door, for the first time. You had to tiptoe, despite the high heels you were wearing, your arms quick to pull him closer, welcoming his touch.

“Are you in love with him?” She asked, smirking.

“I think I am.” You admitted on a low voice.

John Wick was a patient man. He waited, he worked hard to make you feel comfortable around him. And he succeeded.

Today, you smile to yourself. The intimidation John caused completely replaced by love. The kind of love you never thought you'd feel, the kind you didn't even know existed.

“Sweetheart.” A voice reaches you, carried by the wind. Immediately, you put your feet down and stand up, turning to find John, stepping out of his car.

“My love.” You run into his embrace, arms wrapping around his neck as you tiptoe to kiss him, his soft lips suddenly making the cold leave your skin. “I missed you so much. If I knew you'd come back today I'd cook something nice for you.” Whispering, you don't step away from his embrace.

“That's even better because now I can help you.” His deep, strong voice still sends shivers down your body, but for a very different reason now.

“Let's go then.” Smiling to him, you entangle your fingers on his, following his pace to his house.

The place that once terrified you now feels more like home than your own. As does John. In his arms, you find solace, safety, unending love.