#john wick chapter three

[teejaywyatt1]

✨Chapter 39 of Skyline will drop on Thursday, July 6th at 2:30PM EST.✨

[unreliablesnake]

Territorial (Vincent de Gramont x reader)

Summary: You meet your old high school crush and can't help but tell Vincent about it. But he's certainly not happy to hear this story.

Note: Takes place after my other Vincent fics, but you don't need to read them. / I wrote it in like an hour with breaks and it shows. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Warnings: smut (fingering) so MINORS DNI!!!

“Imagine my surprise when I found out it was him! He changed so much throughout the years. He was never the type to wear suits.”

You were laughing, excited that someone from your years in high school showed up in your life again. It was a nice surprise; you used to be on good terms with him, maybe even had a crush that stayed with you in the back of your mind. And now you were working in the same office building, so the two of you were already making plans to have lunch together in the following days.

“He’s been working there for almost as long as I do. How is it that we haven’t met yet? What are the chances?” you asked your boyfriend before taking another bite of your dinner.

But Vincent remained silent, his jaw tightening as you kept talking about your old friend. It took you some minutes to finally realize he didn’t want to hear about any of this. You shut your mouth the moment it dawned on you, and bit on your lower lip as you looked down at your plate guiltily, as if you had done something wrong.

“Are you done?” he asked with a frown, and after a few moments of thinking, you nodded. “I haven’t seen you this excited about a friend before, love. Or was he more than just a friend? Do I have a reason to worry?”

You gulped loudly upon hearing his question. He could see right through you as always, he knew about your crush without you saying anything about it. Too bad that to him it didn’t matter if you still had any feelings for that guy or not. You once had and that was enough for him to get mad at you.

Because he was mad, you knew that. It wasn’t jealousy, it was pure anger that he felt times like this. Every time a guy looked at you the wrong way, every time you dared to be nice to another man, Vincent got angry and took it out on you.

Of course, he would never hit you. Sure, he would spank you, maybe even choke you a little, but all of this would happen in the safety of your bedroom. He would never seriously think about hurting you, he loved you too much for that.

Or so you thought.

Now there was a glint in his green eyes, something you had never seen before. It was pure rage, fueled by your story about this old flame. “He’s just a friend, I promise,” you tried weakly, but despite being sure you loved only him, your thin voice made even you question if it was true.

He suddenly put down his fork and knife, took a sip of his wine–his eyes never leaving yours–then stood up and extended his hand to help you up. With your legs already shaking, you took his hand and stood up as well. For the first time in a while, you had absolutely no idea what he was about to do. Was it really that bad that you were so excited about meeting an old friend?

His fingers wrapped around yours tightly enough to make you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from crying out loud. You followed him across the rooms obediently, not asking him what he was planning to do now.

Once you stepped inside the bedroom, he slammed in the door and pulled you into a hungry, demanding kiss. You tried to push him away a little to breathe, but he only put his hand on the base of your skull and pulled you even closer. This was a first; he had never been this aggressive before, but now he seemed desperate to show you who you belonged to.

His hands were quick to remove your clothes when he finally let you breathe, fingers exploring every single curve of your body as if he had never seen you naked before. Then they moved between your legs, expert fingers slipping between your folds which drew a pathetic moan out of you, making you weak in the knees.

“Who do you belong to, hm?” he asked you before kissing you again. “Tell me, love, do you remember where you belong?”

“I belong to you,” you replied weakly as you put your hands on his chest to steady yourself. His fingers curled inside you, hitting just the right spot, and it was hard to keep yourself together by now. “I’m so sorry,” you added.

While his fingers were pumping at a steady pace, chasing you towards your first high, Vincent looked you in the eye and tilted his head to the side a little. “Good girl. Never forget this,” he warned you darkly.

Your first orgasm made you collapse into his arms, but he didn't seem to mind, it only made him more determined to overstimulate you. By now you knew what this was all about. He wanted to mark his territory, showing you how good he was for you, how perfectly you fit together.

Jealous Vincent wasn't new. He was rough and focused on his own needs, using you as a simple fleshlight. But territorial Vincent was someone you hadn't met before. He wasn't controlled by his anger; he was driven by something else, as if he was desperately trying to prove to you that he was the only one who had a place in your heart.

It wasn't unusual for him to focus on your needs, but this was different. You couldn't quite put a finger on what the difference was, but you could feel it in your bones that something wasn't the same.

He kept calling you a good girl, telling you how badly he needed you, how you belonged to him, and how the two of you were brought together by fate. He was almost too sentimental, something he barely was with you. If you didn't know any better, you would have assumed he was worried about losing you.

“What's wrong?” you asked when you were lying in bed with you resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him.

But he remained silent, the only reaction was the way his grip on your hip tightened. Just when you were about to give up, he suddenly spoke up. “I want you to keep your distance with him. Lunches on weekdays are okay, but I don't want you to meet outside of that building. Can you promise me that?”

You thought about it, but it was a fair request. So you nodded, agreeing while also hoping for a change of his heart in the future. If that was enough to make him feel better, you were willing to do it for now. After all, you didn't want to ruin your engagement so soon.

[oxfords---notbrogues]

John Wick: Chapter 4 (2023)

[kavalyera]

"Man, what the fuck do you want?" Tracker asked, patience for whatever game that was being played gone.

"You were looking at me earlier." Vincent said, and licked his bottom lip, in a gesture that seemed unconscious.

— Free me from this torment, mercyrose

[bluelolblue]

The short gang

Now guys, imagine Santino in Marc's lap, grinding against him, and Marc encouraging him and praising him (I am obsessed with this scenario, I need Santino grinding against someone, and I will write more abt this probably)

But now look at this

With John 😭 they're so small look at them :3

[irellia]

Me to myself: go tf to sleep

Also me: keep filling your drafts with John wick mizu au headcanons & drabbles. you can do it!! WRITE an entire John wick mizu story. The world needs it more than you your sleep

[lilaabard]

i firmly believe that they make each new john wick installment longer than the last just so they can double the times that john wick gets run over by a car. it's getting out of control

[werdynerdy]

John Wick Chapter 3 took a step back for me from Chapter 2, the latter of which I felt balanced story, action, direction and performance incredibly. Three was non-stop set pieces.

What else can be said of Keanu Reeves? Halle Berry, Angelica Huston and Lance Reddick were all awesome.

3.5/5 ⭐️

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet + ch 46

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

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

46. rude awakening

When finally you wake, you sense you are in a confined space in total darkness. Your whole body hurts, and your mouth is dry as a cotton ball. You feel as though you are swaying, and it takes you a while to figure out that it’s not just in your head. You are in something that is on the move. 

It’s hard to tell what, and so you concentrate on righting yourself. The surface you lay on is surprisingly soft. A bed? You try to push up, and a searing pain jets from your left hand up your arm. Is it broken? 

Fuck. 

Gingerly, you feel your appendage, probing the skin and bones. All seems well, until you get to your fingers. There is a big pad of bandaging on your hand, and it’s hard to make sense of what you’re feeling. Whimpering in panic, you frantically count your fingers. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

Your ring finger is gone–and your diamond with it. 

Somehow in the darkness, the room spins, and you let out a scream. 

No one comes, and with nothing better to do, you cry alone in the dark.

John. 

You pray that he’s alright. You know that so long as there’s breath left in his body, he will hunt for you. It’s only a matter of time…if you can survive long enough for him to find you.

That’s when you remember the necklace you’d been wearing under your shirt when you went out for your ride. The gold lavalier he’d gifted you for Christmas. With clumsy fingers you grope for the chain, and breathe a sigh of relief when you find it still hanging there. You feel for the little pearl dangling at the base of the narcissus pendant. 

John had given you a choice. He’d told you that day that there was a micro-tracker inside the faux pearl, and that if you were wearing the necklace, he would know where you were. But you don’t know how long it’s been, or if your captors will allow you to keep this bauble. 

With shaking fingers you bend the soft gold jump ring to remove the little pearl from the larger pendant, and swallow it down. 

Come find me, John. 

With a strangely detached resignation, you just know he’s going to kill them all.

 ***

You’re not sure how much time goes past, before they come for you. Two big, Italian-accented men with rough features and very fine suits open a door and flip on a light, nearly blinding you after so long in the pitch black. You don’t fight them, when they tell you to come with them. 

There is no point. 

All you have to do is bide your time. 

You follow them down a narrow hallway, and you realize that you are on a boat. An expensive one. You feel the steady sway of waves beneath your feet, a weird feeling that might go to your head if you don’t get some fresh air soon. 

You are finally able to get a look at your hand. You resemble a mummy, but the wrapping is very neatly done. A professional job even, perhaps, though it aches like a motherfucker. You wonder if you can talk someone into a pain pill. 

Probably wishful thinking, considering. 

Your hand looks strange, without that finger, but maybe because you are so used to looking at John’s, it does not bother you quite as much as it should. 

Or maybe, you’re in shock, and still feeling weird from your crash and whatever it was they injected in you.  

Or maybe…you’re just so dead certain of the retribution coming their way that you find this injury laughable, in comparison. 

How could anyone be so stupid? 

The answer to that question is answered for you as the nattily-dressed thugs lead you up a steep set of stairs, into a luxurious dining area enclosed by windows all around. 

Dante d’Antonio sits at the head of the high-polished walnut table, GQ-cover ready in a pressed white shirt unbuttoned at the throat, looking smug and sure of himself as a Roman emperor upon his throne. 

This fucking kid. 

“Buonasera, y/n.” 

“Signor.” 

One of the toughs pulls out a chair for you, but spoils the illusion of manners when he forcibly pushes you down into it. After your training with Mariko, you think of three ways in which you could have used that close contact to hurt him–but you don’t. 

You can tell through the darkened windows that you are out to sea, god knows where with no lights in the distance. You have to bide your time. 

You notice one of the bodyguards standing behind Dante sports a nice bandage across his nose. The look he pays you is less than kind, and you guess he must have been the one who took your helmet to the face. 

There is quite a feast set out upon the table. Gilded crystal, china, and silver, the whole nine yards. Though your stomach aches with hunger, you don’t dare touch any of the sundries. Dante just stares at you, waiting, you suppose, for tears or begging or a tirade of questions. But you keep your cool, waiting. You’ve learned from John that silence can be way more unsettling than idle threats.

He tries to mask his annoyance, but it’s written all over his fine features when he sits up in his chair, leaning towards you. “That was quite a little chase you gave my boys. How are you feeling?” He looks pointedly at your hand, obviously craving a reaction. 

You shrug, looking down at your missing digit. “A little lighter on the left side,” you muse, winning a sneer. 

“Forgive us. Usually we are not so barbaric, but we had to let your fiancé know that we’re serious. He’s a little thick headed, when it comes to these things.” 

He makes it all sound so reasonable. 

“I see.” You lift an eyebrow. “Serious about what, exactly?” 

Dante, however, goes off on his own little tangent. “You know, my mother never told me the identity of my true father? I think she wanted me to believe I came about like a little god, sprung from her skull like Athena, or maybe like the immacolata concezione. Ah, but my mother was no virgin. That I know.” 

You think it’s a little odd to be sitting here at the table speculating with this man about his dead mother’s sex life, but maybe it’s just your ingrained puritanical American ethos that you can never quite seem to totally shake.  

“I…imagine it was hard, not having a father around,” you offer.

He waves that off as though it was a stupid thing to say. 

“I lacked for nothing. I loved my uncle Santino very much. Something else I owe your John for.” 

You start to lose some of your cool as you try to reason with his circular logic. It gives you whiplash. 

“Your uncle literally caused your mother’s death. Isn’t that what you’re so mad about?”

He makes a so-so motion with his beautifully manicured hand, smirking at you. “You know, when I was a boy, the adults around me spoke of John Wick like he was a god of Death. My mother couldn’t keep the fondness from her voice, when his name was upon her lips. I think a part of me hoped that he was my real father in those days. So foolish.”  

You blink at this–for the life of you, you cannot tell where the fuck this kid is going with all this. It dawns on you that maybe he’s not just infuriatingly entitled and poisoned by hubris, but also maybe, a little mad. 

That does not bode well for you at all.  

“If he knew…I’m sure he would have tried to do right by you.” You think about how badly young Jardani wanted to be a father with his ballerina. Would the older, more calloused John Wick have felt the same?

Dante laughs like you’ve said something exceptionally stupid. “My mother was practically a queen. She would not have borne the seed of a dirty zingaro peasant like John Wick.” 

You sit back in your chair, shocked by the blistering remark, though maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. All thoughts of keeping your cool fly out the window as you fire back, “I hope that someday, someone’s going to wash out your filthy fucking mouth.” 

The bandaged bodyguard makes a threatening move to cross the room to you, but Dante holds up a hand, smirking. You suppose he won, finally getting a rise out of you. 

It didn’t make him any less of a piece of shit. 

Gritting your teeth, you look around. The boat is moving fast over the waves, but you can’t really see anything. You’ve got to hand it to this young man. He’s succeeded in talking you in circles. 

“So…what is it you want, exactly?” 

“I want John Wick dead, of course,” he sneers. “You are the bait. Is this not obvious to you?” 

You look at him across the table for a long beat. 

“What do you think you gain exactly, by taking such a risk?” 

The young man sighs, massaging his temples. “Dio mio. He soiled the honor of my family! Killing my mother was a grave insult. I cannot suffer him to live.” 

“Aren’t you…aware of what happened, when the High Table tried to kill him?” 

Again, he makes that dismissive gesture, and then he grins at you like a wolf. “Ah, but they did not have you. What will John Wick give, to see his lady love go free?”

Maybe you are a little thick. When the logic catches up with you, your blood turns to ice in your veins. 

The answer, you fear, is a lot.

Shrugging, you hold up your mutilated hand. “Don’t know. I’m kind of damaged goods now.”

Dante just smirks at you. “There are worse things we could have cut off.” 

Ugh. 

“Yeah. Thanks?” 

This actually wins you a laugh. “You know…the man who kills John Wick will be a legend amongst our kind? What better way for the new capo dei capi to prove his power? No one will dare challenge me.”

“What about…the bosses in charge now?” You think about the two older gentlemen who you’d met at the negotiations table at the Continental. One of whom, whose finger you broke. 

“Oh. I have plans for them. John Wick is going to kill them for me.” 

You blink, wondering how he managed to frame the capi for your disappearance. You have a feeling your missing finger comes into play somehow. 

Someone’s been reading too much Mario Puzo. 

You’re smart enough not to say that aloud too. 

This reminds you of the end of the Godfather, when Michael Corleoni kills everyone who ever insulted his family in one fell swoop to prove to everyone that he’s not fucking around. It was a great twist in the book. In real life, however…you think he’s bitten off more than he can chew.

If this brat intends to rise to the highest office of the Camorra…it will take more than killing a retired if legendary assassin to cement his powerbase. 

Your control regained, you say nothing in response, and he gets bored, waving you away. “Take her back,” he gripes. Again, the bodyguard with the nose gear moves towards you, but again Dante waves him off again. “Not you, Luca. You might get carried away, and I need her in good health.” He grins at you. “In case we need to cut something else off to make our point.”

The man in question glares down at you, and kudos where kudos is due: he succeeds in scaring the snot out of you. Gooseflesh raises down your arms; uneasiness hardens like a ball of ice in your belly. 

“He’s a little cross, after what you did to his nose. But that’s what he gets for underestimating John Wick’s woman, eh?”

You press your lips, smart enough not to bait either of them any more. 

“You can thank Luca for your finger. Doesn’t he do nice work?” You glare up at Luca, but keep silent, and Dante sniggers. “So, behave yourself, or I’ll let Luca have his way. Andare.” 

One of the bodyguards who brought you takes your shoulder, leading you back down below. You’re a little disappointed you don’t get to eat any of that beautiful food. 

You guess he notices the glint of gold around your neck–quick as a cutpurse, he snatches the fine chain and breaks it, paying you a nasty smile before pushing you back into your tiny little cabin and locking it behind you.

As sorry as you are to lose the cherished necklace, you are so glad you swallowed your tracker. You hope that doesn’t cause you a problem later…but it just might save your life. 

Cold, hungry, and you suppose a little seasick, you settle back into your little closet of a berth. You sit on your bed with your fucked up hand and think to yourself that when John descends on Dante and his cronies with all the fury of the apocalypse…you won’t feel sorry for them at all.

—

all chapters

*zingaro - gypsy, offensive usage *capo dei capi - boss of bosses, the head honcho, the biggest cheese

[teejaywyatt1]

Why is Chapter 40 almost 10,000 words? I think I may have went a little too hard. 😳

[animusrox]

MY LETTERBOXD

TOP 10

1.    Dune: Part Two 2.    The Substance 3.    Hundreds of Beavers 4.    Anora 5.    Dìdi 6.    Nosferatu 7.    Nickel Boys 8.    The First Omen 9.    Sing Sing 10.    Civil War

GRADE A 

11.    No Other Land 12.    Robot Dreams 13.    The Peasants 14.    Conclave 15.    Smile 2 16.    Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes 17.    We Grown Now 18.    Memoir of a Snail 19.    The Last Stop in Yuma County 20.    A Real Pain 21.    It’s What’s Inside 22.    Red Rooms 23.    Sometimes I Think About Dying 24.    A Different Man 25.    Better Man 26.    The Brutalist 27.    Heretic 28.    His Three Daughters 29.    Hard Truths 30.    Evil Does Not Exist 31.    Late Night with the Devil 32.    Alien: Romulus 33.    MadS 34.    Rebel Ridge 35.    Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person 36.    Challengers 37.    Strange Darling 38.    Flow 39.    All We Imagine as Light 40.    Longlegs 41.    Saturday Night 42.    The Apprentice 43.    Terrifier 3 44.    The Seed of the Sacred Fig 45.    A Complete Unknown 46.    A Quiet Place: Day One 47.    Juror #2 48.    Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl 49.    Oddity 50.    Kneecap 51.    Touch 52.    Mayhem! 53.    The Order 54.    In a Violent Nature 55.    Small Things Like These 56.    Twisters 57.    Hit Man 58.    Woman of the Hour 59.    Stopmotion 60.    The Wild Robot 61.    Deadpool & Wolverine

[Tap 'Keep Reading' For My Full Graded List]

GRADE B

62.    The Devil’s Bath 63.    The Bikeriders 64.    Sasquatch Sunset 65.    The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim 66.    Monkey Man 67.    Last Straw 68.    Abigail 69.    Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga 70.    Tiger Stripes 71.    The Book of Clarence 72.    The Instigators 73.    I’m Still Here 74.    The Coffee Table 75.    The Return 76.    Problemista 77.    Trap 78.    MaXXXine 79.    Love Lies Bleeding 80.    You’ll Never Find Me 81.    Between the Temples 82.    Marmalade 83.    Blitz 84.    Speak No Evil 85.    Asphalt City 86.    Piece By Piece 87.    Wicked Little Letters 88.    We Live in Time 89.    Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story 90.    V/H/S/Beyond 91.    The Dead Don’t Hurt 92.    Suncoast 93.    Maria 94.    My Old Ass 95.    Immaculate 96.    The Truth vs. Alex Jones 97.    Cuckoo 98.    Daddio 99.    We Were Dangerous 100.    The Outrun 101.    Infested 102.    Monolith 103.    Azrael 104.    The Last Showgirl 105.    Babes 106.    The Fire Inside 107.    Lisa Frankenstein 108.    Here 109.    Thelma 110.    Queer 111.    Out of Darkness 112.    Y2K 113.    Handling the Undead 114.    Bad Boys: Ride or Die 115.    I Saw the TV Glow 116.    Arcadian 117.    Transformers One 118.    Never Let Go 119.    The Piano Lesson 120.    Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F 121.    Wicked 122.    Gladiator II 123.    Carry-On 124.    Blink Twice 125.    Self Reliance 126.    Fly Me to the Moon 127.    Boy Kills World 128.    Kinds of Kindness 129.    Nutcrackers 130.    Skincare 131.    Ezra 132.    The Front Room 133.    Mothers’ Instinct 134.    Inside Out 2 135.    Omni Loop 136.    Girls State 137.    Beetlejuice Beetlejuice 138.    Your Monster 139.    Babygirl 140.    Mufasa: The Lion King 141.    The Greatest Hits 142.    Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 143.    Magpie

GRADE C 

144.    The People’s Joker 145.    Nightbitch 146.    Road House 147.    Young Woman and the Sea 148.    Am I OK? 149.    Music by John Williams 150.    The Killer’s Game 151.    Oh, Canada 152.    Wolfs 153.    Sting 154.    The Idea of You 155.    Don’t Move 156.    1992 157.    Werewolves 158.    The Killer 159.    The Shadow Strays 160.    Rez Ball 161.    MoviePass, MovieCrash 162.    The Fall Guy 163.    Lee 164.    The End 165.    Godzilla × Kong: The New Empire 166.    The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare 167.    Madame Web 168.    Caddo Lake 169.    Watchmen: Chapter II 170.    Watchmen: Chapter I 171.    Salem’s Lot 172.    The Exorcism 173.    The Watchers 174.    Kill 175.    Jackpot! 176.    Rumours 177.    Damsel 178.    My Spy: The Eternal City 179.    Drive-Away Dolls 180.    IF 181.    Spaceman 182.    Joy 183.    Joker: Folie à Deux 184.    Megalopolis 185.    Monster Summer 186.    Lovely, Dark, and Deep 187.    Bob Marley: One Love 188.    Kraven the Hunter 189.    Moana 2 190.    I Used to Be Funny 191.    Goodrich 192.    September 5 193.    Hold Your Breath 194.    Apartment 7A

GRADE F

195.    The Platform 2 196.    Arthur the King 197.    Shirley 198.    Back to Black 199.    Land of Bad 200.    Poolman 201.    Emilia Pérez 202.    The Room Next Door 203.    I.S.S. 204.    Brothers 205.    Knox Goes Away 206.    Mean Girls 207.    Krazy House 208.    Slingshot 209.    Mr. Crocket 210.    Argylle 211.    Sonic the Hedgehog 3 212.    Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey 2 213.    Afraid 214.    Tuesday 215.    Spellbound 216.    Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths Part Three 217.    Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths Part Two 218.    Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths Part One 219.    The American Society of Magical Negroes 220.    Subservience 221.    Time Cut 222.    Night Swim 223.    Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire 224.    Red One 225.    This Is Me…Now 226.    Despicable Me 4 227.    The Union 228.    Ricky Stanicky 229.    The Beekeeper 230.    Honeymoonish 231.    Hot Frosty 232.    The Deliverance 233.    The Garfield Movie 234.    Lift 235.    Atlas 236.    Trigger Warning 237.    House of Spoils 238.    Borderlands 239.    Tarot 240.    Venom: The Last Dance

Bottom 10

241.    Imaginary 242.    Unfrosted 243.    It Ends With Us 244.    Dear Santa 245.    The Crow 246.    The Strangers: Chapter 1 247.    Harold and the Purple Crayon 248.    Rebel Moon - Part Two: The Scargiver 249.    Dirty Angels 250.    Miller’s Girl

[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: The Sanctuary 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 Act I : The Return

Act II : The Blood Helios

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 Help Pick A Hero Name pt 2 Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven

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 Star Fairy Royal Bloodline Cast Act I ~ Cast

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🧸

Twilight

Series

Hunter : When Charlie and Renee’s relationship was breaking the pair thought it’d be a good idea for them to have another child. However they couldn’t convince another child. So instead they chose to adopt a two year old little girl with a strange mark on his wrist. Bella was four when she met her new little sister. At first she didn’t like Y/n. She was always taking her dad’s attention.

Till one day Bella cut her knee on the sidewalk while playing. The first person that ran to her when she was hurt was Y/n. From that day forth Bella and Y/n were inseparable.

When Y/n was five her parents realized their marriage wasn’t working. Then they realized how smart Y/n was. Then two men from another country came and told Renee that they wanted Y/n to go to a special school for extraordinary children. They paid Renee and she sent Y/n off when she was five.

What happens when Y/n turns fifteenth and goes home. Will how different Y/n is change her life. Will the new being in her home change her.🧸🩹🧨🗝️

Hunter Prologue: Last Defenders Chapter One : Reunited Chapter Two : Home Sweet Home

Request list/Requests are Open

[b-skarsgard]

Bill Skarsgård on Remaking Nosferatu and the Pressure of “F--king With a Masterpiece”

The actor on Pennywise, Count Orlok, and the lure of monstrous characters.

(for those who weren’t able to read the article due to a paywall the full interview is now under the cut)

“I’ve always been a very happy monster.” So said Boris Karloff in 1962, looking back at three decades of creatures, ghouls, and killers that defined so much of his life onscreen. Bill Skarsgård hasn’t been at it nearly as long, but his tendency to play supernatural and terrifying figures suggests that, like his fiendish predecessor, he’s made peace with monstrosity.

The blockbusters It and It: Chapter 2 made him a horror icon as Pennywise the Dancing Clown, carrying on a long tradition in his Swedish acting family—which includes his father, Stellan, and older brothers Alexander and Gustaf—of playing haunting roles in hair-raising films. Since Pennywise, Bill has specialized in sinister, scene-stealing parts, from a high-society sociopath in John Wick: Chapter 4 to his recent turn as the otherworldly avenger of this year’s reboot of The Crow. His latest turn finds him playing the vampiric title character in Nosferatu, from The Witch and The Lighthouse filmmaker Robert Eggers, in a collaboration that brings an ominous new approach to the bat-faced antagonist of the 1922 silent film.

For Vanity Fair’s 2025 Hollywood Issue, he talked about touching the void and more.

Vanity Fair: We spoke years ago when you were about to start filming It, and you talked about the challenges of inhabiting an inhuman monster.

Bill Skarsgård: That was the first time—and wouldn’t be the last time—that I was taking on this kind of iconic character that has been done before so well, and that people love and cherish. The whole journey of that was so weird. If I spoke to you after the production, I would’ve been much more confident that we had something that was very special, but in the process of it, I was just like, Why did he cast me? I can’t do this.

We did speak again afterward. You talked about going home to your parents’ house after you finished shooting and being plagued by dreams about the character.

Those dreams were so strange. Either I was confronting Pennywise and I was upset with him, yelling at him—or I was Pennywise, but I was walking around in the streets that I grew up on, and I’m like, No, no. I shouldn’t be out here in public walking around like this. This is not how it’s supposed to be done. It was this weird thing where I was trying to separate myself from this thing, literally back in the place that I grew up in, in the same apartment that I grew up in.

Count Orlok in Nosferatu also emerges from a deep, dark place. What was it like for you to take that particular emotional ice bath?

Count Orlok was very different than Pennywise in a lot of ways. Orlok was even further away from who I am than Pennywise was, in the sense that my voice, posture, age, the look of it, it was just so far out there. That became the challenge. Before putting on the prosthetics, we explored so many weird things and looked into butoh, this sort of Japanese corpse dancing. We explored so many trippy things.

Did you say “corpse dancing”?

Yeah, butoh is this Japanese corpse dance. It’s all these, kind of, mummified movement patterns. It’s spectacular. It brought this much more precise and much more rigid and slow movement. Basically the outfit and the prosthetics helped so much. The voice was what I worked the hardest on. I worked with an opera singer—she tried to get it as low as possible. My brother Gustaf came to set when we were shooting. He’s sitting there and he gets the headphones on and he hears [deep growling sounds] and is like, “What the fuck is going on?” It must have seemed very insane.

Since you come from an acting family, I wondered what role your dad and your brothers play in your decision-making process or in your professional life.

I don’t talk to them in the sense of like, “Hey, do you think I should do this thing or that thing?” Of course, subconsciously, they’re such a big part of my life. It’s hard to quantify how much effect they’ve had in terms of my taste or in terms of performances. It’s great to have their support, more so in life in general than acting itself. It’s nice to be able to talk to your family, just going, like, “Oh, this shoot was a nightmare because of this and this and this.” And they’re like, “Oh yeah, totally. Tell me about it.” The job, the profession of acting, can feel kind of lonely sometimes. It just feels nice to have so many people, close people, around you that truly know what it’s like.

Especially after Nosferatu, people are going to look at your work and see a lot of monsters and a lot of dark figures. Why do you think you’ve been drawn to these characters?

I think those characters are drawn to me as much as I’m drawn to them. It’s a mutual kind of attraction. The fact that they’re drawn towards me is a bunch of different reasons, everything from the way you look, you have a sensibility, there’s a darkness about you, or there’s an intensity.

And it’s something you enjoy too?

Even going back to some of the earlier stuff I did in Sweden, transformation has always been very appealing to me—and playing characters that are very different than me. I played a character that was autistic when I was 19, and I loved it. I had so much joy in it. He’s not a dark character, he’s a very sweet character. But you study, and you change your voice. With Pennywise, that became my ultimate transformation. I just really enjoyed it. Now with Orlok, I really enjoy transforming as much as I humanly can. I think that’s very exciting.

Do you feel a curiosity about the more dangerous side of human nature?

The darker characters also tend to be more complex. More mental gymnastics are needed. Again, with Orlok, it’s like, Okay, if it’s an ancient sorcerer that speaks from a different realm and possesses all of this power and knowledge, what makes power and knowledge ultimately corrupt a soul as opposed to creating a messiah?

Do you ever worry about getting typecast?

I definitely don’t want to exclusively play those kind of roles, but I’ve never seen the appeal of the classic star, a movie star. The difference between a movie star and an actor is that a movie star plays himself in every part, in a way. Whereas as an actor transforms. There are people that play themselves, and they’re brilliant every single time, but it’s the same thing and they have that shtick. For me, I just don’t think that I’m that charismatic or interesting, so I can’t just lean on that. I need to transform as far away from me as possible.

Do you feel a kinship with actors from the past, like, say, Lon Chaney or Boris Karloff, who played dark beings and often transformed their regular appearances?

It’s a great question. Yeah, I do. But that being said, it was never my particular goal to be the “creature actor,” if you will. There are so many [actors] I draw inspiration from. A lot of other actors that are not known for their intense transformations are some of my favorites as well. I haven’t really studied the greats of prosthetics or creature performances in that way. I’ve watched a lot of it, but I don’t watch performances for inspiration per se, because there’s always this thing of emulation that I don’t want to go down. For Orlok, predatory animals felt like a cleaner source of inspiration.

You mentioned earlier that, several times now, you’ve played a character that is well-known from a previous iteration, but you did it in a new and different way. Did you feel that again with Nosferatu?

Orlok is also Dracula. To me, in terms of iconic horror characters, the number one is Dracula/Nosferatu. It’s the most seminal work of literature in gothic horror for sure. I think it’s been adapted more than probably any other book. This story is so ingrained in our subconscious that it was very daunting to step into it. I was a huge fan of [Robert] Eggers before. He and I would have these things we’re like, “What are we doing? Why are we doing Nosferatu? Are we taking on something too big here?” We felt that kind of pressure of fucking with a masterpiece. But the movie deserves its place as a new interpretation.

What’s on the horizon for you next?

I’ve always cherished the idea of being as versatile as I possibly can. I also want to do a kitchen-sink drama, I want to do a dark, fucked-up comedy. I want to make those choices or advocate for those choices. You have to fight against being typecast or put into a box. The more you fight against it, the bigger the box tends to get.

[babsharrison]

Safe Haven - John Wick

(Chapter three)

Pairing | John Wick x Original Fem! Character

Summary | In search of a breath in his tumultuous life, John Wick finds himself in a charming bookstore where he meets a sweet and welcoming woman. As they grow closer, John questions whether she can love him despite the dark secrets he carries. While battling the shadows of his past, he must protect the love that is blossoming and discover if hope and redemption are truly possible.

Word Count | 2.6k

A/N | New chapter! My day was so boring today, but listening to music brought me so much inspiration!! I really recommend it!

(Previous chapter!)

The lobby of the Continental Hotel was shrouded in na elegance that only the most dangerous appreciated. The golden lights reflected on the marble floors, creating na atmosphere of luxury and power. Every assassin, mercenary, or bounty hunter passing through was a reminder that this was no ordinary place. It was a refuge, but also na arena where everything could change with a single glance.

John Wick crossed the lobby with determined steps, his black suit immaculate, but his gaze hardened. He was no stranger to this routine, but Winston’s summons felt like a warning that something more serious was about to happen.

When he reached the reception, Charon, as always, was there—impassive and professional. “Winston is expecting you, Mr. Wick,” he informed without hesitation.

John simply nodded, heading straight for the elevator. The path to Winston’s office was familiar, but something in the air felt heavier, as if a storm was approaching.

Upon entering the office, Winston was already there, pouring two glasses of whiskey. He smiled faintly, a gesture that didn’t completely hide the seriousness in his eyes.

“John,” he greeted, handing him one of the glasses. “Sit down.”

John took the glass but remained standing. He knew Winston wouldn’t have called him here without a valid reason.

Winston sighed, swirling the whiskey in his glass for a moment before speaking. “Have you heard of Marco Vitale?”

John remained impassive, but the mention of the name sparked a flicker of recognition. “I’ve heard of him,” he replied in a firm voice. “Why?”

“Vitale lost someone very close a few days ago. And you were responsible.” Winston set the glass down on the table, his eyes fixed on John. “The man you killed at the nightclub was more than na associate. He was practically family to him.”

John raised na eyebrow, the whiskey glass unmoving in his hand. “He’ll have to get in line,” he responded indifferently, taking a sip from his glass.

Winston, his expression unchanged, was unsurprised. “John, Marco is not a man who forgives easily. He has resources, influence, and a burning desire for revenge.”

“Everyone does,” John responded with a disconcerting calm.

Winston’s seriousness remained. He had known John long enough to understand that the man before him wasn’t easily intimidated, but Vitale’s threat wasn’t something that could be ignored. “I understand you’re tired of this cycle, John, but you need to realize that Marco won’t stop. He won’t be deterred by rules or fear. He wants revenge, and you are the target.”

John looked at Winston, his eyes cold and calculating. “I’ve been through this before. And I’m still here.”

Winston leaned slightly in his leather chair, crossing his fingers in front of him. “And how many more times do you want to go through it?”

John didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked out the window, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. It was as if the world out there was just a distraction, and he was destined to walk this path of blood and violence. Nothing seemed to matter as much as before.

After a brief silence, he turned to Winston. “If he comes after me, I’ll handle it.”

Winston nodded slowly, a mix of resignation and respect. “I know you will. But just remember, John, revenge isn’t the only thing that drives people. Be careful of what you might lose without even realizing it.”

John let out a short sigh, knowing that even though Winston was trying to warn him, he still faced everything with the same cold determination. The Continental offered refuge, but John knew that, in the end, he would have to face his own demons—once again.

“Thanks for the warning, Winston,” John said with a nod before turning to leave.

Winston watched him go, a hint of regret in his eyes. He knew John Wick wasn’t na ordinary man, but he also knew that even a legend had its limits. And maybe, this time, he was closer than ever to reaching them.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Weeks passed, and the rainy weather became a constant in the city, wrapping Mia’s bookstore in a cozy and comforting shelter. Raindrops trickled down the large windows, while the soft sound of water hitting the sidewalk blended with the whisper of pages being turned. Customer traffic began to grow, and many came not just to buy books, but to lose themselves in the unique atmosphere Mia had cultivated—a space where every corner told a story.

On gray days, Mia noticed that John had become a frequent visitor. He would usually arrive with a soaked coat, always seeming a little tired, but his presence brought a new dynamic to the bookstore. Mia watched as he settled on one of the sofas, immersed in a book, his expression softening as the words transported him away from his reality.

On one of those gray days, while carefully arranging the shelves, Mia decided it was time to establish a new ritual. With a determined smile, she prepared a special blend of coffee—a mix with notes of chocolate and caramel, perfect for warming the body and soul on such a cold day. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the air, enveloping the bookstore in a comforting warmth.

When the bell above the door announced John’s arrival, Mia glanced at the special blend she had prepared, waiting for just the right moment. He entered, shaking off the raindrops clinging to his coat, and his usual tired expression softened in the bookstore’s warm light. The shelves, full of colorful books, created a safe refuge, and the golden lighting gave the room a magical touch.

Mia smiled to herself, picked up the cup of coffee she had set aside for him, and approached. With light steps, she handed it to the man who now seemed to be a part of that peaceful routine. “Something special to warm the day,” she said, breaking the silence without being intrusive.

Hesitant, he looked at the cup, a mix of surprise and discomfort spreading over him as he recognized the gesture of kindness. It was something so different from his reality, a simple offer that seemed loaded with meaning. Before he could formulate a response, Mia quietly stepped away, allowing him to ponder.

Meanwhile, Tom, Mia’s coworker, had been watching the scene from afar. He noticed the repeated gesture and decided to approach her. “Hey, are you making coffee for that guy again?” he asked, a playful grin on his lips. “Are you flirting with him or just trying to win his heart with caffeine?”

Mia turned to Tom, instantly blushing. “No, of course not! It’s just a welcoming gesture,” she replied, trying to hide her embarrassment. The idea that John might interpret this differently made her uneasy. “I just… want to brighten his day.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, amused. “Just that? Uh-huh. And what if he thinks you’re interested?” He chuckled, clearly finding the situation hilarious. “You know, he might be taken!”

Mia’s face flushed even more at the thought. “You think? What if he is? I just wanted to do something kind... now you’ve made me nervous,” she said, biting her lower lip. “I hope he doesn’t think I’m doing this for another reason.”

“Hey, relax! A coffee isn’t a declaration of love. But, hey, it’s nice to see you care like that. Who knows, he might appreciate it more than you think?” Tom winked before returning to his tasks.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

In the days that followed, Mia’s gesture became almost a silent habit. Whenever the rain started to fall, she prepared a cup of coffee and discreetly left it by John’s side. He would notice the coffee, hesitate briefly, but never touch it, as if simply receiving it was enough.

One particularly quiet morning, the rain was pounding hard against the windows, filling the air with a constant and soothing sound. Mia was enjoying the rare silence of the empty bookstore, slowly and thoughtfully arranging the shelves, lost in the peace of the moment.

The doorbell softly chimed, breaking the bookstore’s silence, and John walked in. His black suit was slightly damp, with small raindrops dripping from the collar. He ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly to shake off the excess water. As he stepped into the warm, welcoming space, his posture—usually rigid and alert—softened a little. His eyes scanned the room until they found Mia, who gave him a barely noticeable, welcoming smile, as if he had become na expected presence in that place.

He settled on one of the sofas, his gaze immediately turning to the book he had brought. Without disturbing the silence, Mia decided it was time to continue her ritual.

After preparing the coffee, Mia placed the cup next to John, watching him discreetly as he read. He noticed the gesture and hesitated for a moment, but before he could refuse, he slightly inclined his head toward her, as if silently thanking her. His expression changed when he finally took a sip, and a faint smile appeared as he noted the flavor.

Seeing the silent interaction between them, Mia couldn’t help but smile. The bookstore’s quietness enveloped them, and they were alone in that space, creating a deeper connection. The aroma of coffee filled the air, and she felt content to provide him with a small comfort.

After that moment, Mia, feeling the intensity of that connection, decided to step back a little. She returned to organizing the shelves behind the counter but couldn’t stop herself from casting furtive glances at John, who seemed completely absorbed in his book, the coffee cup resting beside him. The tranquility of the bookstore enveloped them both, but his presence made her heart race, sparking na anticipation and curiosity about what was going through his mind.

When the silence was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of John's phone, he stepped away slightly to answer the call. Mia, still organizing books, heard the murmur of the conversation but couldn't make out the words. The tension in the air was palpable, and she wondered if something important was happening.

As soon as the call ended, John stood up, walking with firm steps towards the counter where Mia was. His gaze, fixed on her, carried a weight that made her heart race. It was only then that Mia noticed the beauty of the man—his dark, smooth hair fell softly over his forehead, framing his angular, strong face. The fresh haircut accentuated his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the contours of his cheekbones. His eyes, deep and intense, seemed to hold a secret story, while an expression of seriousness and determination dominated his face, as if he was pondering something significant. Watching him had become a habit for her, and now, curiosity wrapped around her intensely, making her wonder what he was about to say.

With a hesitant motion, John reached into his pocket. Mia held her breath, intrigued. He pulled out a good amount of money, the bills crumpled and somewhat worn. His intention was clear: he wanted to pay for the coffee.

“I can’t accept this,” Mia said quickly, extending her hand in a gesture of refusal. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel the need to repay her.

He remained silent for a moment, his intense eyes locked on hers. “I insist,” he replied, his voice low and firm. The directness with which he spoke made it clear that this wasn’t up for discussion.

Mia felt the urgency in his voice, but she was determined not to let gratitude become an obligation. “Really, it’s not necessary. I enjoy doing this.”

John hesitated, his intense expression softening slightly. He seemed to weigh his words carefully, his deep eyes focused on her. After a moment of reflection, he paused, and Mia realized how the air around them seemed heavy with expectation. With a serious look, he finally said, almost in a whisper, “John... my name is John Wick.”

The revelation was unexpected, and Mia couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle, which lit up her face. Her smile, a mixture of surprise and delight, made her eyes sparkle. “Mine is Mia Fletcher,” she responded, her voice soft but filled with sincerity. The warmth in Mia’s cheeks betrayed the shyness of the moment, as if the simple act of sharing their names was a bridge between worlds that had once seemed distant.

Mia extended her hand, the gesture hesitant but hopeful, as if she was offering not just a greeting, but an invitation to something more. The slight tremble in her fingers betrayed her anticipation. John watched her for a moment, his eyes searching hers, gauging the authenticity in her gesture. Then, slowly, he reached for her hand, his grip firm yet gentle, creating a tangible connection between the two.

As their hands met, the space around them seemed to shrink, the noise of the bookstore and the sound of rain outside fading into the background. The intensity of their exchanged glances made them both acutely aware that, despite the bustling world outside, that moment was theirs alone.

John remained silent for a moment, absorbing the depth of the connection just formed. His eyes met hers, and for an instant, the world around them seemed to disappear. But, like the sunlight hiding behind clouds, the intensity of the moment also faded.

With a slight nod, he stepped back, slowly retreating toward the door. The expression on his face was a mix of gratitude and the usual seriousness that followed him. Without words, John turned and began heading outside. The soft chime of the doorbell broke the gentle silence that enveloped them, but Mia, still immersed in the newfound discovery, didn’t notice.

As he walked out, Mia’s mind raced, reflecting on the revelation of his name and the connection she felt with him. With a smile on her lips and the memory of his touch still vivid, she allowed herself to drift into her thoughts, almost floating in the bookstore’s atmosphere.

What Mia didn’t notice, as her gaze wandered to the rain-fogged windows, was that John, in a quiet gesture, had left a generous amount of money on the counter before leaving. The crumpled bills rested there, like a whisper of gratitude lost in the air.

Mia finally snapped out of her daydreams, blinking slowly as she reconnected with the reality around her. The bookstore, now wrapped in an almost supernatural calm, seemed to resonate with the memories of that morning. She could still feel John’s presence lingering in the air, as though his silent, imposing energy had seeped into the shelves of old books.

Without him there, though, the place felt a bit emptier, and her heart tightened slightly with the unexpected absence. Curious, she looked toward the door, perhaps hoping he would return—or that it had all been a fleeting illusion. But as she lowered her gaze to the counter, her eyes landed on something that made her pause. There, among the books and the space he used to occupy, rested a small pile of bills.

Surprised, Mia laughed in disbelief, shaking her head softly. “He really did that...” she murmured to herself. The idea of John leaving payment for the coffee, even without her there to see it, was as unexpected as it was curious. “How did he do that?”

Next chapter!

[moon-my-beloved]

Wicked Game: a little snippet of the next chapter :3

“I don’t think I can do this.” You mutter nervously, clenching your sweaty palms against the fabric of your gloves for the millionth time that day as you sit in the passenger seat of Laswell’s car. You two had arrived earlier than expected and were now parked outside the house that belonged to the four men Kate had been speaking of these last couple of days. You barely caught any of it though, too busy trying to figure out why you even agreed to do this in the first place.

You had managed to grasp little bits of information from the conversation, at least important ones that Laswell could provide to you. John being the oldest of friends she had met at a London soccer game. A quirk on her lip forming as she recounts how their first conversation, more like a debate, started their friendship. They worked together, in an organization of some sort called ‘Task Force 1-4-1’ taking down bad guys as Laswell simply put it. That’s where the other three come in: Simon, Johnny, and Kyle. She had explained that they all have worked together on various missions she could not disclose but made it clear that these were people she trusted with her life.

“They’re family.” Crow's feet deepened as her eyes crinkled with the smile she wore while talking about them. You knew Laswell would never lie to you but at that moment you felt the warmth in her words with how much compassion and inclination she had for her team.

She had spared any detail of their personal lives, stating that there would be no point in meeting them if she just told you everything that she knew about these men. You’re here to get to know each other, she had said, not knowing that it was probably the last thing you wanted these four guys to accomplish.

It was really meaningless. You would just end up being a small blip in their minds once this whole ordeal is over.

“Getting cold feet on me?” An amused expression written all over her face at your troubling state. Turning off the engine and unbuckling herself, she turns her body to face you as she crosses her arms over her chest “Nervous?”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you lean your elbow against the small space between the window and you, rubbing your fingers over your eyes before breaking the silence. “You know I’m not good at whatever this is,” Hand waving desperately in the air and eyes flickering towards the house and hers just to be met with a stoic face as she listens to you ramble about how you just want to go back home like you’re a spoiled child having a tantrum in the middle of a candy store. You might as well be at this point. Pressing your lips together in an attempt to stop yourself from saying too much, you sit up and look at yourself in the front view mirror. “I just don’t know what to do, Kate.”

‘You don’t want to disappoint her.’

A small chuckle can be heard from the woman along with a warm palm against your shoulder breaking you out of your thoughts as you lift your head just enough to meet Kate’s sympathetic yet serious gaze.

“You won’t mess it up if that’s what you’re worried about. I know this can be.. different for you but I promise, things will go great.” A soft smile on her lips as she gives your cheek a small pat before pulling away. “Just let me do the talking and we’ll go off from there, okay? Baby steps.” She reassures you, grabbing the small bags of gifts from the backseat for you to take. “Here, you’ll be my little delivery person for today.” She says as she hops off the car and closes the door behind her.

“Shit- wait!” You give yourself a quick once-over, barely managing to catch up to Kate as you try your very best to avoid any of the small gifts from falling off your arms. “Rude.” You say when you meet Kate at the front door.

“We don’t want to keep the boys waiting with how eager they’ve been to meet my ‘mystery’ friend.” The corner of her lip twitching up into a smirk as she points at the door. “You ready?”

“Just knock.” You say. A bit harsher than you wanted it to come out as you look the other way to find anything to distract yourself from your own misery.

Rolling her eyes, Kate lifts up her hand and lands three solid knocks against the wood of the door, shoving her own hands into the warmth of her puffer jacket. You think you hear Laswell complain about how cold it is before a booming voice can be heard coming from the other side of the door followed by heavy footsteps inching closer.

You tense up, feeling like your heart is about to beat itself out of your rib cage if that’s even possible with how anxious you are.

‘Fuck. Maybe you can make a run for it.’

As if Laswell could sense what you were thinking, she grabs the hem of your coat to hold you in place before the door swings open.

[97keanu]

"ˢʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵐⁱˡˡⁱᵒⁿ

ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵘʳⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢʰⁱⁿᵉ"

Mob Boss!John Wick x Mob Wife!Reader

Premise: It's the early 2000s, New York City. You're 27 years old, your husband, John Wick, is the head of the Slavic crime syndicate in New York. Your father married you off to him 6 years ago, to end a feud between your families. You have been John's wife for so long, but still feel like you barely know how he feels about you. He's quiet, comes home bloody and bruised, tries to keep you out of the business even though this life is all you've ever known. Will John reveal his true feelings for you when a rival family kidnaps you and holds you for ransom?

Tags/CW: stoic and suave!john, possessive!john, predator coded!john, prey coded!reader, kidnapping in, drug use, canon violence for john wick series as well as the sopranos, smut, more tags to come in later chapters.

A/N: This is going to be a 3 part limited series, but I would love to write drabbles/imagines/one-shots for these two in the future! This chapter is mainly an intro to you and John's relationship and some shameless smut, more drama in the next chapter!

Words: 3k

Gold. Your favorite color as a child, the same color as your daddy's pinky ring, you can remember peeking at it over the old wooden poker table. Your daddy laughed along with all the other men in the room, like a language you couldn't understand, the cigar smoke bitter, but sweet like vanilla if you inhaled enough. You can see all sorts of shiny objects on the poker table. You spot a silver glinting metal of a few of the men's guns politely placed on the table. The liquor they're drinking is glinting in crystal glasses, sloshing around as the men get rowdier and more incoherent. Your eyes always come back to that ring, however. Embellishments of diamond inlaid into that honey colored metal. The only thing you liked better than the glint of gold was the flash of a diamond. And daddy's ring held both. You knew even then, no more than 6 or 7 years old, that that ring would be yours one day.  You were right.  Your husband John, gave it to you as an anniversary gift last year after killing the men who killed your father. It's big enough on you to fit on your ring or middle finger. Your dear old dad was a lot of things, most not things that you loved. The only other thing he gave you in life that you were truly grateful for was arranging a truce between feuding families and setting you up to marry John.  You had no idea who this man was, not to mention he was 20 years older than you, and was the head of New York City's Slavic crime syndicate. Along with his family being a family that rivaled yours for so long, the idea of marrying this man, the man they call 'Baba Yaga', was frightening. He was harsh when you met him. You only talked 3 times before you saw him at the altar.  When you did meet him, he was well kept, incredibly so. His hair was dark, a bit long, slicked back perfectly. His face though, that was what really sent cold shivers up your spine. He looked like a wolf, his eyes were hungry for something, you couldn't even say what for sure, but you hoped your father wasn't shepherding you as a helpless sheep into John's pasture.

You were surprised when he took your hand softly, all the edges of his face jagged and sharp like a freshly cut jewel, and pressed his lips into your hand. It was from then on that you knew, despite everything else, that he would take care of you. There was something in his kiss and his steeled eyes that promised so from the get go. 

From the moment you kissed him at the altar, you knew there was something those lips were hiding, however. They were so soft, but somewhere in your mind you couldn’t help but taste blood, coppery, metallic on those perfect lips. He looked at you then, having only seen you three times before, like he was looking at something as precious as gold. You felt coveted. 

Despite this, as the honeymoon waned, and you two began to settle in as husband and wife, you thought perhaps, maybe this could work for you two. And it did, for all intents and purposes. Over the years, you two have fallen into a routine, not one you're displeased with per se. You know this is the life you were born into, being able to be a pristine trophy inside John's luxurious apartment never bothered you. He treated you well, always kept your needs met. But he was cold, distant, especially about work. You know the business, you've known it your whole life so you have no idea why he feels the need to keep you so in the dark most of the time. He barely speaks when he comes home bloodied up, weak, ready to collapse into the couch and sleep off the night finally. You dutifully help clean his wounds, silent, but those piercing eyes of his look into yours, saying more than those lips ever did. 

Because of John's reluctance to allow you anywhere close to the business, you're surprised when he comes home one night and tells you that he'll be taking you to a party. 

"A party?" Your glossy lips utter, turning around to face John from your seat at the vanity as he enters the bedroom with the news. Quite frankly, after being married for six years and rarely leaving this apartment, you're shocked. "You never take me to parties?"

"It's important you come tonight." John says simple, stepping closer to you, and slowly beginning to take off his dark suit, going down to suspenders and a crisp white button up. He isn’t giving anything away just yet. 

"Finally decided to trade me in for someone newer?" You say, obviously joking even though you know it happens. These parties that men in the business go to, your father found six different wives at them after your mother, you know how women are treated in this world. You are seen as no more than a currency of status, and you know you’re not getting any younger. 

John, however, gets really serious. His head jerks towards you, and he has that wolf look in his eye again. He bores you down with his dark, almost black eyes, his jaw set. The fear you feel from that look is one you never wish to again. 

"Don't you ever joke about that." John finally says, but he doesn't soften. "I would never let anyone else have you."

If there's one thing you know for certain that John feels about you, it's possession. He always has been protective of you, to a fault most of the time. You feel as though he's set you in the world's most gilded cage most days, and at night he comes home and tears into your body like an animal. John was never soft. He wouldn't start to be in the bedroom. He would never push you away from cuddling after, however. He just didn't seek comfort from you the way you did him. But you were grateful he allowed you to have the comfort you craved from him, even if he was silent for most of it. If you were lucky, he may even pull an arm around you after a particularly aggressive fuck. 

Not to say either that you didn’t enjoy how he took you in the bedroom, taking everything from you but your blood. And you knew he could take that too if he pleased. The aggression, the rawness of his body against yours, you had to admit, it turned you on. He never made your feel like you were lesser in the bedroom, in fact, he could give just as much as he could take. There were many times he had you propped up on the pillows, spread for him, and he lapping at you with a fervor you could hardly stand. He would tease you relentlessly if you let him, if you didn’t grab that dark hair of his and pull him into your aching pussy while telling him what you need. Begging him for what you need. His black eyes would look up at you from where he supplied pleasures that made your head spin, as if to say ‘You see this? I give you this, do not forget that I can give you such pleasures.’

And Lord, did you know, that he could do just that. Even now, as you see him undressing for the night, you can feel yourself begin to ache with want. 

John can tell he has frightened you from how he has spoken, though. So he crosses what feels like the great expanse between you two, and he kneels in front of you, his hands on your thighs. 

“Listen, I need you to understand that you never have to worry. About anything, with me.” His eyes are not exactly soft, but they are trying, which counts for something. “These eyes are focused on one woman and one woman only, do not ever doubt that, my love.”

You couldn’t help but feel compelled to believe him. Not to mention it was one of the rare times that he told you, or at least implied, his love for you. You did find yourself questioning often what John’s idea of ‘love’ was, however. You aren’t so certain your vision of love matches his, but at least it seems as if he is true to you. You begin to feel foolish for the cracks of doubt that have been plaguing you lately, you have no reason to believe John would cheat on you other than that the other mob wives have to deal with it constantly from their spouses. John is different, you must remember that. 

You nod, a few tears coming to your eyes, and John’s large hands are there to wipe them away before you even have to wonder. 

“Do not cry, solnyshko.” He says, his voice gruff, but understanding. “I do not wish for you to be hurt.”

“I hurt from being locked away here for so long…” You don’t know why you feel brave enough to say it right now, but you do. John’s eyes suddenly look unusually pained, and he glances away, blinking as if to gather himself. 

“I know, I hope bringing you to this party will help. I just…” His hand on your cheek begins to tighten, not on you, but as if the muscles in it are desperate to grasp for something they know they must not. “I do not trust your safety for much of what I do, I…I cannot lose you.”

You don’t say anything, just look at him, on his knees for you right now, seemingly begging you to understand. It’s more than you’ve seen from him in the six years you’ve lived with him. It honestly causes a few more tears to fall, you’re not sure why seeing him this way does this to you. It means a lot to you. 

“Okay, John. I will go this party with you, glady.” You say, accepting the idea, and John seems relieved. 

“Good, now, no more tears,” He brushes the last few that have sullied your cheeks with his thumb. “Come, let’s go to bed my darling…” 

As he stands from where he knelt before you, his strong hands take your arms in them, pulling you off of the plush vanity stool, and into him. He smells like smoke and gunpowder, mixed with that expensive cologne he always wears, the one that smells like pine trees and reminds you of the woods. He gently, for once, takes you into the large, black silk bed. Once you’re settled, it’s like he is ready to make a feast of your body. He’s so primal, animalistic and ready to be drunk on your scent. You let him take you, his teeth already into your neck, leaving indents, leaving his mark on you. He goes slow this time, really lets you feel how much he wants you. It doesn’t take him long to completely undress you, his hands are swift, and they work quickly to fling the little you had on to the bedroom floor. 

You gasp when his hands decide to reach for your pussy next, and you hear him chuckle as he suckles on your breast, which are heavy with lust. 

“You’re already so wet for me, my dear…” He whispers into your skin, the biting and nibbling beginning again as soon as the words leave his lips.

His hands work like magic, starting with teasing your poor pussy. He doesn’t go for your clit right away, no, he works slowly, but deliberately around it, testing your want and your wetness. He continues to lower his bites along your body, going down further and further, saving your swelling clit for his tongue to savor. He spreads your legs roughly, your breath catching as you’re so suddenly exposed. You feel the cold air of the room against the heat between your legs, and watch as John looks over your body with nothing but pure hunger and satisfaction in his eyes. You can’t believe you ever thought he would look for someone else when he looks at you like this nearly every night. How foolish…

Before your thoughts can be taken by things that simple do not matter in this moment, John is plunging his tongue into your cunt, hungry to taste you, a low growl escaping his lips and vibrating the tender flesh there. You moan out, your legs trying to close, but a firm hand guiding your thigh back down to the bed, holding it there. You continue to squirm, your hands finally finding purchase in his tossled dark hair, and you feel as if you have found an anchor in the deepest depths of an angry sea, ready to consume you if you do not hold onto something. 

You breath hitches higher as he sucks on your hardening clit, pulling all of it to attention in his mouth and driving you mad. He continues to over stimulate you like this until you’re begging him, breathless and tossing your head back into the silk pillows, to stop, to let you go. Unfortunately, you are his prey, and he will have his way with you however he can, so while he releases your tender clit from his mouth for a moment, he is slipping two fingers inside you with a swiftness that causes you to see stars. You always forget how good he is at this, how could you ever underestimate his power to bring you to the edge like this?

John pumps his fingers inside you, working that spot that drives you crazy, and you can barely speak coherently. He loves making you such a mess for him, a wordless, breathless mess that tangles in John’s sheets. 

John allows you to get closer and closer like this, and just when you’re screaming out his name, finding some words that convey how close you are, how you’re so ready, does he slip his fingers out from inside of you. The whine you let out from this surprises you, even makes you blush from embarrassment. You can’t believe how badly he makes you want him.

John lifts himself to his knees, freeing his cock from his tight pants, and you’re always taken back from how long and girthy it is. You know you can take his cock, you have many times before, but you know how much it stretches you out anyways. Your stomach is in knots from how full you wish to be of him. John can see the hunger in your eyes and wastes no time, grabbing your thighs and pulling you close in one fell manuever. He lines himself up with you, then wets his cock with your juices so he can slide into you easily. He always makes sure not to rut into you dry, he wants you soaking for him at all times during this. 

John finally gives you what you want, your moan loud enough that you don’t doubt the neighbors know what this man does to you. His cock slips in so perfectly, going deeper and deeper, inch by inch, until he is at his limit inside you, your pussy completely full of him. You reach out to pull him close to you, but John stops you. 

“I want to see you touch yourself for me, darling. I need to see your face when you cum on my cock…” He is so instructional, so demanding. You know you have to give him what he wants. 

You stay laid on your back, while John keeps up on his knees, still so deep inside of you. You work your hand down to your clit, your other hand grasping at your own breast with desperation for something to hold onto. You can’t help it, you’re already losing yourself, your hands working and your moans giving a show for John. You know he loves when you really let yourself feel it, and you can feel yourself tighten around his cock as it pumps into you from how good you are feeling. 

As John continues, you look up at him, your eyebrows drawn and your face so close to ecstasy, your body so tight and close to giving you the release you desperately need. You know John's close too, his face turning from one of someone so focused on their partner's pleasure, to someone who can barely keep their eyes open from how good it feels. The thought that somehow, right now, you have a small bit of power over him, turns you on. The fact that it's your pussy that makes him devolve into a mess of breaths and soft groans is so satisfying you can feel yourself start to cum. That's all it takes for John to join you, his cock twitching and full, going deeper into you with each long thrust as you both finish together. You can feel the rush of heat as he delivers his pleasure unto you. 

John collapses beside you, spent. You move, your body sore where John held your legs open for so long. You find your way onto his sweaty chest, laying your head down onto his defined chest muscles. John wraps an arm around you, his hand gently, so slowly, petting your hair. You know he isn't the super affectionate type, but you also know that you've been together long enough that your husband cannot refuse you on much. Especially not when the two of you can relax into each other. 

You softly close your eyes and count John's breath, trying to match yours to his. You aren't sure after what count it happened, but you fall asleep in John's arms.