#fic: miracle on bourbon street | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

noir0neko · 4 years

Text

satan on the strip | m

“But parties of two are my favorite.”

rating: very mature

paring: jungkook x reader

includes: lots of sexual tension, also sex, praise!kink, pet names, magic, drinking, other nefarious behavior, a lot of sexual thoughts, maybe some biting and maybe some air play and begging and cursing and just,,, it’s mature content folks, proceed with caution

word count: 3.5k

a/n: Hi!!! It has been a hOT minute since I was here. I was just toasting some bagels this morning when this idea popped into my head and I knew I had to write it. Shoutout to bagels for giving me inspo, even though bagels are not in this fic in any way. If you would like to read along to what I was listening to when I wrote, here is the little playlist: “Miracle” by CHVRCHES. “Love on the Brain” by Rihanna, “Hypnotic” by Zella Day and “Locked Out of Heaven” by Bruno Mars. ENJOY! I am super happy to post something again!

“Come on!” Your friends try to flag you over to the dance floor from your very comfortable seat at the bar. You hold up your drink as an excuse and take a sip, letting the bitter liquid burn a path down your throat. They scoff and give you a dirty look, but continue dancing, throwing themselves around wildly to the music.

It’s the night of one of your best friend’s bachelorette parties, and of course, she wanted to have it in Las Vegas. And also of course, your ex boyfriend is the best man for her soon to be husband. And triple of course, they decided to crash the bachelorette party and you have now been watching another random girl grind on your ex for the past twenty minutes.

You take another drink, sighing heavily before turning back around to the bar.

“Long night already?” A voice says from behind you, deep and low.

You swing your head to the side, getting an eyeful of the very tall and very handsome man who has taken a seat at the bar. His hair is dark and straight, waving lightly over his forehead. His skin is pale, clear, and smooth, with eyes so bottomless and deep they almost look black. He is wearing a gray v-neck shirt with dark wash jeans that have rips in the knees, exposing more of his pale skin and you can’t help but notice he has bright red shoes on.

“I guess,” You shrug, taking another sip of your drink and moving it to the other side of your body. Just to be safe.

“I’ll take that it's going to be an even longer one, if your friends are all of the bachelorette girls.” He smiles with his straight teeth and full mouth. “Unless you just wanted to match with a bunch of random strangers for no reason.”

You sigh again, fingering the stupid sparkly sash around your dress with an absent finger. Your friends had insisted on wearing little black dresses and pairing them with ridiculously bright and glittering sashes that say different things. Luckily, yours is one of the more tame sayings, with “Wild Princess” printed on it in big cursive letters. You feel anything but wild. All you want to do is leave and crawl into bed with a book and sleep. Or maybe cry and try not to replay the image of your ex dancing with another girl and not giving a damn about you over and over again.

“I wish I was randomly matching,” You take another drink. “Sometimes a party of one is better than anything else.”

The mysterious stranger gives you a mischievous smile. “Parties of one are great. But parties of two are my favorite. Anything above that is just a crowd.”

You laugh despite myself, nodding along in agreement. Deciding to not sit and wallow all night, you place your hand in the space between you and introduce yourself. He takes your hand and electric currents run up your arms, pushing a shiver down your spine.

“I’m Jungkook.” He says, smiling again.

With his arm out, you can see the beginning of a tattoo curling around his bicep and under the sleeve of his shirt. Your eyes follow it, trying to decipher its long, coiling shape before he pulls back. His eyes seem alive and glowing, their almond shape crinkling in the corners as he looks at you.

You clear your throat. “What brings you here?”

“Oh you know,” he says vaguely, gesturing for the bartender. “Work.”

“This hardly seems like work,” you quirk an eyebrow.

“Semantics,” Jungkook chuckles. “I am in the entertainment business.”

He orders his drink, a clean bourbon, and then turns back to you, a secretive smile on his face. It’s like he can sense what you are going to say before it comes out of your mouth. “Movies?” You can totally imagine him in an action film.

He shakes his head.

“Television?” You guess.

He shakes his head again, thanking the bartender as he slides a drink along the counter.

“Music?” You try again.

“You’re getting warmer,” he leans in closer and you can smell the alcohol and musky scent of him. It’s almost more intoxicating than your drink. “Magic.”

“Magic?” You repeat, stupefied.

“Yes,” he sits back and your head clears. “Magic.”

“Like rabbits out of hats and throwing knives at spinning people?”

He seems to think for a second, as if actually considering your joke as a statement. “A bit more sophisticated than that, but yes. That’s the idea.”

You narrow your eyes at him, turning to face your body towards his. “Show me.”

“I don’t think you’re ready for the kind of magic I have, Princess.” He says slyly, eyes dipping to your sash again. You scoff, taking the sash off and placing it on the bar. His grin grows and he leans back into you.

You swear you can feel electricity sizzling in the space between you two, desperate to follow the high he’s bringing. “Show me,” you say again, a challenge in your voice.

“Alright,” his voice is so low you don’t know how you can hear him over the deafening music and yelling, but it’s as if there is no one else but you and him. “All of your friends are now wishing that they were in your place, when they were making fun of you for sitting here before. You wish you didn’t have to be here, but you are a supportive friend and know how much it would hurt if you left early. Your boyfriend over there is thinking about punching me and wants to know who I am and why you stopped being jealous to pay attention to me.”

You blanch, trying to discreetly look to the side to see the dance floor. You can see all of your friends out there, stealing glances your way in between steps and body rolls. You can see two of them giggling and whispering, wagging their eyebrows at you as they catch your glance. Then you see your ex, no longer with the woman from before, but making his way over from across the floor, his jaw set and eyes blazing.

His angry face.

Your stomach flips, but there is some smug satisfaction in his reaction as you turn back to Jungkook. He seems completely unaffected by your oncoming ex, but is staring directly at you. You think his eyes could burn you from the inside out if you let them.

“What do you want to do?” He asks, his word ricocheting deep inside of you.

“I want to leave,” you say, the words leaving your mouth before your brain can catch up. “Can we go?”

“Of course we can, Princess.” Jungkook smiles, standing up and offering you his arm.

You gather your things and join him, careful to not meet any of your friend’s eyes as you let Jungkook walk you towards the door. Hadn’t they been pushing you to hook up all weekend? Hadn’t they been throwing you at guys and giving guys your number since the party started? And even more because of the presence of your ex?

The thought of him makes you grin and you look back to find him staring after you, clenching and unclenching his fists in agitation. Your smile widens and you can’t help but wave at him as you leave. Fuck him.

You see your friends waving and jumping up and down excitedly, practically bouncing with happiness at the new development in your boring life. Jungkook’s arm is warm and hard around yours, static and heat pooling in the best parts of you. Close up, you can see the black lines and dots of his tattoo, but still can’t make out what it is. Your brain begins to question what you’re doing. This man is a complete stranger. And you’re in Las Vegas walking out of a bar with him. Every single horror film and terrible thing to happen to a woman always starts out this way. You start to rethink your choice, opening your mouth to tell him you’re going back.

“Spend an hour with me,” Jungkook says, snagging your attention and the words from your lips. The night air is hot still, the street loud and bustling with people walking to and fro.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows.

“One hour,” he repeats. “Spend one hour with me. If you want to go back after that, I’ll bring you.”

“One hour?” You sound like a broken record.

One hour. What can happen in one hour in one of the most crowded places in the United States? You both can just walk around, maybe get some food. One hour only has sixty minutes, after all and on the strip, that time would go by impossibly fast. Not to mention, the last thing you realistically want to do is walk the strip alone or go back into the bar without Jungkook and with your tail between your legs. You know your ex would have a field day and your friends would be so pitiful. Maybe it is about time to get wild.

“One hour.” You say definitively. A statement this time.

Jungkook leans in and you smell him again, musky and hot. “Then, I am determined to make it the best hour of your life.”

His words bring fierce shivers down your spine. What have you gotten yourself into?

Before you know it, your predictions seem to come true. A half hour passes without notice as you and Jungkook walk in and out of hotels, restaurants and bars. Jungkook asks you about your life, your hobbies, and does little magic tricks for you along the way. Pulling pennies from behind your ears and predicting cards before the dealer draws them. You’re laughing and smiling and living and noticing how beautiful he is when he smiles. How dark his eyes are and how you want to stare into them forever. How perfectly his eyebrows frame his face and how his cheekbones and jaw make him seem carved out of marble.

“Have you ever thought about playing?” You ask him after you exit Caesar’s Palace. He had correctly guessed every single card before it was shown on the table and helped one of the players win big. Although it has to be well after 2 in the morning, the night is bustling and alive. Dancers are on the sidewalks in big feathers and bikini costumes, people dressed as Disney characters and superheroes are posing for pictures, and tourists are drinking and laughing and mingling with one another.

“No,” Jungkook laughs, secrets in the sound. “I don’t need money.”

“Doesn’t everyone need money?”

Jungkook looks at you, tilting his head to the side. “There are things money can’t buy.”

“Like what?” You ask.

“Purity,” Jungkook responds. And the answer is so weird you stop walking.

“Purity?” You put your hands on your hips, half mocking him. “Like chastity?”

Jungkook moves close to you, looking down at you with those deep and confusing eyes. Your lips are part of their own volition. You want to kiss him. You want to do a lot more than kiss him.

“Not chastity,” Jungkook looks wistful. Almost sad. “Heaven. The purity of it. When you fall, you can’t buy your way back in.”

Heaven. You think to yourself, looking at this man who seems to be a fallen angel himself. Beautiful and dark and full of magic, real or not, that pulls something buried deep inside of you and brings it to the surface. You hate how sad he looks, how regretful and reproachful. You want to ease his pain, you want to give him a slice of Heaven, a slice of the world, to see him smile and his eyes crinkle again.

And hell, if you don’t want to give yourself a piece of Heaven, of him, as well.

Without thinking, you pull him into an alley between hotels. The night is hot and starless, the smell of sweat and alcohol and lowered inhibitions in the air. You don’t feel fully in control of your body, letting instinct guide you and Jungkook into the dark narrow street.

“Time is almost up,” Jungkook reminds you.

You growl in response, not even sure you know how to make such a sound. Not sure where this all consuming emotion has come from. “I don’t care.”

Reaching out for him, you slam your bodies together and crash your lips onto his. You fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a long lost puzzle you didn't even know you’d been trying to solve. You push Jungkook’s hair back, catching a glimpse of small stud earrings in his ear. The jewelry is extremely sexy and you feel even more eager than you did before to feel him.

Taking more control, Jungkook pushes you back until you hit one of the walls. You can hear the laughter and sounds of people around you on either side of the alley, walking up and down the strip and drinking. It would be so easy for someone to look in and see you both, obviously involved in much more than an innocent kiss.

He touches you and you feel like you might break a part into a million little pieces. His touch is shocking, little fires trailing behind his fingers as they roam down the bare skin of your arms. Your back arches into the stone behind your head, a moan ripping from your throat when his fingers graze the skin of your neck. Jungkook is watching you with a feral gaze, licking his lips before leaning in to run his lips and teeth over your throat. You grip the front of his shirt, desperate to feel more. To feel everything.

Jungkook crowds you closer to the wall, aligning his body to press against yours. You can feel the rises and plains of his muscle and frame through your thin dress. Your breasts peak with anticipation, a tingling sensation building low in your stomach. Jungkook hooks his hands around your thighs, the feeling of his bare skin on yours eliciting a string of curse words from your mouth. You’re ready to beg him to touch you where you need it.

Luckily you don’t have to.

Once he has you firmly against the wall, with your legs hooked around his midsection, he curves his arm around your leg and lets his fingers graze you. There is nothing blocking his touch and the contact and slickness of you seems to shock him.

“No underwear?” He nearly growls.

“It’s a matching thing,” you all but pant.

“It’s a naughty thing, Princess.” Jungkook responds, pressing his thumb directly into you. “How could I not tell before?”

You ignore his statement, aware that you’re unable to question anything he does right now. His thumb begins to move and you moan, burying your head in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound. Jungkook’s other hand weaves through your hair, pulling you back against the wall so the sounds you emit echo against the narrow alley walls.

“I want to hear you,” he commands.

“But the people,” you begin to protest, knowing that even you don’t care.

“They can’t hear or see us,” he responds, a grin carving a wicked look to his features. “Like I told you: magic.”

Without warning, Jungkook slides two fingers into you, dragging the longest and deepest sound from your throat. Your hips are trying to move, begging for more friction, but he won’t give it to you. He has his body flush against yours on the wall. In complete control. You fucking love it.

His hair curls with sweat, the strands sticking to his forehead. The moisture seems to make him sparkle and glow. Like an angel on Earth. Maybe a fallen angel. He curls his fingers and strokes you, your walls clenching around his fingers with delicious pleasure.

“Shit,” he curses, sliding his fingers out. “I need to be in you. Now.”

You whine in agreement, the intensity in his words making your toes curl. Jungkook reaches in between your bodies to undo his belt, long and nimble fingers making quick work on the clasp. You want him to do wicked and horrible things with those fingers, and that belt. You want him to tie you down and make you beg for every lick of pleasure he could give you. Wild desperation begins to build in you. You could cum just from watching him. Just from seeing that pink tongue of his lick across his lips.

“Jungkook,” you groan, watching him pull his cock out.

The rational part of your brain is aware that you are both in public, with hundreds of people walking by the alley every minute. The rational part of you is aware that you can get arrested for this. That this is dangerous and irresponsible on so many levels. But the louder and reckless part of you never wants this to end. The irrational part of your brain believes him, trusts him, and trusts his magic. No one has noticed yet. Maybe luck. Maybe magic. You don’t care.

And then he is poised at your entrance and pushing into you in one, long, thrust. Your moans are incessant, no breath between the sounds. You can feel him at the back of you, you can feel him everywhere, filling you up and intoxicating you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he is groaning, deep and dark and raw.

He moves again, in and out, following an untraceable rhythm that is setting you on fire. You have never felt this alive before, this electrified, everything is you is singing with approval and building with pleasure. You didn’t know sex before this, you didn’t know how good it could feel before this. How can you ever be with anyone besides him now?

He’s going to fuck you and leave you fucked for the rest of your life.

Jungkook claims you in a kiss, his tongue roaming your mouth. He swallows your moans and sounds with shivers. Your hands reach under his shirt and travel along the rigid muscle of his stomach and shoulders. His body seems to come alive beneath the touch, skin rippling and muscle contracting.

You can feel his large intake of breath along your lips. You don’t think you’ve heard him sigh until now, or breathe at all for that matter. It’s like he has never taken air into his lungs before you touched him. And now you can’t stop. Your fingers are everywhere as he continues to fuck you. Wild. This is wild.

“Don’t stop,” you beg, breaking the contact of the kiss for breath.

Jungkook’s eyes are touching you as they roam around your face, down your neck and collarbones, over your breasts and stomach, until they settle on the point where your bodies are joined. His skin is slick with sweat. His eyes are burning with passion. The muscles of his back and taut, signaling he feels as close as you do to release.

He reaches between you and begins to rub your clit in small circles. That’s it. You’re gone. You’ve sunk so deep, you know there’s no coming back. You splinter and break a part around him, milking his cock with tight spasms until you feel him cum, as well. You cum for what feels like forever, moaning and writhing and shaking at his touch.

Jungkook’s teeth are grazing at your throat and he bites gently. You think you’re going to cum again, moaning and arching up to give him more access. He’s still in you, despite the cum you feel dripping around him and coating your thighs. Jungkook’s lips curve up and he pushes his teeth deeper into the base of your throat. You feel a sharp sting and then warm, hot blood is dripping down your collarbones and between your breasts. Jungkook lets out a gasp as your blood fills his mouth, swallowing the thick liquid like he’s a man dying of thirst. His eyes are glowing, his skin is glowing, and you swear the tattoo on his arm stretches itself out, like it's waking up after a long sleep.

“You,” he says, capturing you in a long searing kiss. You can taste your own blood. You can taste your own desire, still throbbing deep and low after he’s satisfied you. “You are my princess.”

And then, just as quickly as you were there, you’re gone. Swallowed up by a black so endless and so deep you’re not sure you’ll ever resurface. Like realizing you’ve sunk too far in the deep end of the pool and wondering if you’ll make it out. Like falling asleep and hoping you don’t wake up. And consciously, dangerously, eerily, like the color of his eyes.

You’ve met Satan on the strip.

And your hour is now eternity.

----------------------

~Admin Eggplant

1K notes · View notes

fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years

Text

Christmas Lights

John Wick x reader (A/n- posting two fics in one day cause my phone deleted the notification for the Christmas challenge. A/n2- this one is based on the Coldplay song Christmas Lights, and its for the lovely @toomanystoriessolittletime Christmas writing challenge. I had sooooo much fun writing this that I wrote 2 versions, though, the John Wick one won)

Masterlist

Warnings- Angst (there’s a hopeful ending, no worries.)

Winter in London was cold, but it felt even colder knowing that when he got home, she would not be there. Standing near the window in his room at the Continental, leaning on the beige wall and staring at the huge tree in the nearby square, the colorful, blinking lights taunted him with their cheer, as if to remind John that he had none, he’d given it all up when he walked out the door. If he closed his eyes right then, momentarily blocking them out, he could still see the pained look on Y/n’s face as she watched him get ready to leave again.

“It’s almost Christmas John,” she’d pleaded, her voice breaking, “Please just stay.”

The hurt in her eyes when John had brushed off her pleas, arguing that he had to take the job because the money would do them good, they were planning a wedding after all, was unmatched. And that was when Y/n broke it to him; if he left, she couldn’t promise that he’d be coming back to any wedding planning. Still though, they’d just had a fight, the worst one they’d ever had and John was so, so mad, that he’d just wanted to get out of their shared home. Maybe he could have gone to the hotel in New York, but hearing Winston tell him that he was in the wrong one was the last thing he needed, so instead, John did what came naturally to him, turned to what he usually did when he needed an outlet; he went to work.

Usually, all it took was a job and a couple days for John to clear his head before he went back to Y/n, apologized and let her take her in his arms and make everything okay again. But John knew that that time, he’d gone too far, and as he brought the remainder of his smoky bourbon to his lips, he thought back on what Y/n had had said as she followed him to the door where the taxi had waited; “If you leave tonight, then I’m leaving too.”

John hadn’t said anything, his mind playing a foolish trick and telling him that Y/n’s threat was empty; she wouldn’t leave, she loved him. They loved each other, and their love had survived so much thus far. But then he’d called her cell the next morning, to try to mend things, disappointed when she didn’t pick up, and then, even more heartbroken when he called the house, where the ringing ended with the voicemail. It had taken days after that for John to hear from Charon that Y/n had dropped off Dog at his desk along with a message for him; she’d left her key to their house, or rather, his house, there too. She had left.

Without as much as an outgoing pleasantry, John had disconnected the call, his jaw locking as tears gathered in his eyes. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go, it was just a fight, one stupid fight. All because she’d asked for one thing; for him to stay home and spend Christmas with her. All Y/n ever wanted was to be with him, the big wedding had been his idea, John’s way of trying to give her something special after she’d promised to spend her life with him.

Sniffing, John glanced at the lights again, trying not to liken the tree to the one he and Y/n had put up at home. The one in the square only served to dredge up those memories; her drunken giggle between sips of hard cider and moments putting delicate ornaments on the spruce, the way he’d lifted her up into his arms so she could put the star on top, how they’d kissed and then some after she’d slid down his body; safe in his arms.

Throwing his head back against the wall, John let his eyes slip closed for the briefest of moments as he wondered what it would take to will Y/n back into his life. Christmas was in three days and it would be the first one without her in almost five years and he’d taken to wondering if he could really call it that if she wasn’t there. It was Y/n who’d made the day something special; she’d come into his life and together, they’d made memories and traditions. Opening one present on Christmas Eve after their stroll around the neighborhood to see the lights, making hot chocolate instead of coffee on Christmas morning and spending the day buzzing around the kitchen making dinner after unwrapping the rest of their presents. If only Y/n knew that she was the only gift he needed.

With a heavy sigh, John pushed off the wall and straightened his back, giving one last glance at the lights illuminating the area around the grand tree, wishing on the glittering star at the top that the past week had been nothing but a bad dream.

Y/n rubbed her hands together, trying to generate some heat as she quickly walked up the sidewalk to a familiar apartment building in Brooklyn. She was all bundled up and though it hadn’t started snowing yet, New York’s frigid winter air was enough to have your fingers and toes icing up if you weren’t careful. She couldn’t wait to get back home that evening and just curl up in her favorite sweats after a long, hot shower. It was Christmas Eve, the first one she’d spent without John in five years, and it went without saying that his absence and the end of their relationship had thrown her for a loop; nothing seemed right anymore and without their usual traditions, the holidays seemed empty.

She missed him.

Trying to hurry up, Y/n fiddled with her hands again, that time, trying to ignore how bare her finger felt without the engagement ring she’d left behind with Charon. She’d gotten used to it, and moreover, she’d gotten used to being his fiancée. Being the only person allowed to see and care for him when he was at his worst and hold his hand when he was at his absolute best. John, the only person that she’d ever seen as the love of her life, she’d wanted so much with him, but just a week and a half ago, what Y/n wanted the most was to spend Christmas with him, the way they had every other year for the past five. But John wanted to work and even if he’d rattled off some excuse about how the money would be good for their nuptials, Y/n knew otherwise; they’d been fighting a lot lately and he wanted to get away for a while. He’d wanted to run away from the problem, instead of staying home and working things out with her.

Looking back on it, Y/n realized that she didn’t even care about the things they’d been fighting over, it was all so trifling in the scheme of things, a wedding venue, how much money was too much to spend on a caterer and where they would go after they were married. Y/n wanted to move to a place in the suburbs and John wanted to stay put. After they’d broken up though, or rather, after Y/n had broken up with him, she’d come to see that she couldn’t have cared less about any of those things, as long as she was with John, then none of it mattered.

But he was gone, and Y/n was left, walking along the cold streets of New York back to her old place, trying to come to terms with a life without him, thinking of how she’d take him back in a heartbeat if they’d found a way to work things out.

She was just a few feet away from the building when Y/n started rummaging through her handbag in search of her keys, clumsily getting the little bunch out without much effort. About to turn to start up the short flight of shallow steps, Y/n unconsciously raised her head, stumbling back slightly as a soft gasp escaped her lips in a white puff. Even if he was the person she’d wanted to see the most, he was the last she’d actually expected. Though, maybe the universe, by some wintery miracle, had decided to give her exactly what she wanted; a second chance with John Wick.

He’d taken a cab straight to the place where he’d suspected she’d be, right after making a quick pit stop at the hotel. John had booked the first non-stop flight from London to New York that he could get, all in a bid to get to Y/n before the stroke of midnight, before he could start another day without her. The plane had landed late Christmas Eve and even if it was past ten and even if he didn’t even know if she was still awake, John knew he had to try.

With his hands in his pockets, trying to combat the temperate air, John walked quickly along the barren sidewalk, passing storefronts illuminated with tiny, festive bulbs. They were proving to be as unwavering as the love that was fueling his mission and had added to the spirit that seemed otherwise absent. It hadn’t started snowing in Empire City and even if the lack of fluffy white and icy pavements dared to subtract from the holiday, white Christmases were rare in their neck of the woods. It never felt like winter without snow, just like the next day wouldn’t feel like anything special if he couldn’t convince Y/n that she was all that mattered to him. He didn’t care how they spent it, as long as they were together. If only he’d realized that before.

He was drawing nearer and nearer to the building he’d been in search of, and in his coat pocket, John’s finger brushed the cool metal of a familiar ring; the one that was made especially to be worn by her, the one that had been gone from it’s home for six days too many. If all went well, then maybe it wouldn’t have to stay warm in his pocket for much longer and maybe his heart being stitched back together would be his first present.

As he walked, John had kept his eyes straight ahead, only slowing down when a familiar figure came into sight. She was twisted awkwardly as she’d continued walking, rummaging through her handbag until Y/n produced a jingling set of keys, straightening up, only for them to come face to face. She wasn’t too far off, just a couple feet away and John thought that his hopefulness was mirrored when he matched her gaze.

Unseen to her, he closed his palm around her ring, trying to find the words as they stood there, seemingly the only two out at that late hour. Taking a chance, he finally found the courage to utter one lonesome word, “Hey.”

Y/n seemed hesitant, but eventually, with what John thought to be the first glimmers of a sad smile tugging at her paled features, “Hey.” It was just one mirrored word, but it meant so much more, it was a bridge to forgiveness, and as it left her lips, John glimpsed the first flakes of snow falling between them; white specks descending slowly, some of it getting caught in her hair, and on her clothes though most of it starting to pepper the ground.

As the snow fell for the first time that winter, the two lingered before the steps to Y/n’s apartment, realizing that, as always, they’d be finding their way back to each other.

Maybe it would feel like Christmas after all.

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

#stephschristmaswritingchallenge #keanu reeves #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick x y/n #angst #fluff #christmas lights #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x y/n

44 notes · View notes