#john wick oc

[eternalslover]

WHY IS THERE NO WRITING FOR KEANU REEVES CHARACTERS IM ACTUALLY GOING BALLISTIC, I WANT HIM SO BAD WOOF WOOF GRRR, GOING ACTUALLY FERAL, PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE ABOUT HIM, MATRIX, JOHN WICK, BILL AND TED, CONSTANTINE, MATRIX, MATRIX, MATRIX DID I MENTION MATRIX PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE ABOUT HIS CHARACTER FROM THE MATRIX

WHERE DID MY CLOTHING GO?!?! I WANT HIM SO BAD HONESTLY HOW CAN YOU NOT WRITE ABOUT HIM?? ANGST, FLUFF, SMUT ECT ECT BIG ON FLUFF AND ANGST, THERE IS JUST SO MUCH SMUT IN THE WORLD BUT I WILL TAKE ANYTHING

[babsharrison]

Safe Haven - John Wick

(Chapter two)

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 | 3.1k

A/N | Hey guys! In this chapter, I tried to show John’s work and a bit of Mia’s struggles. Sorry if there are any mistakes in my writing 🤫

Previous chapter!

At the back of the bookstore, Mia should have been busy shelving the new books that had arrived, but her attention was quickly diverted by a small romance novel. The cover was captivating, and as she flipped through the pages, a wave of warmth spread across her face, leaving her cheeks slightly flushed. With an involuntary smile, she let out a small giggle, immersed in the unfolding story. However, reality soon pulled her back: she had promised to stop by the market with her aunt later, and time was already ticking. Quickly setting the book aside, she knew she would soon have to close the bookstore and leave.

Mia sighed, still with a faint smile, as she returned her focus to the shelves. The smell of new paper and the familiarity of the books comforted her, almost like a warm embrace. She carefully organized the volumes, reminding herself of the promise she had made to her grandfather before he passed away: to take care of the place that meant so much to them both. The bookstore was a refuge filled with memories and shared laughter, and now more than ever, she felt the weight of responsibility on her shoulders.

As she worked, her eyes drifted to the window, where the sunlight was beginning to fade, painting the sky with shades of orange and pink. The contrast between the beauty of the moment and the internal struggle she faced made her sigh again. Keeping the bookstore alive in a world increasingly indifferent to places like it was a constant challenge. She remembered the conversations she had had with her grandfather about the dream of passing the bookstore down, and that pushed her to fight for the legacy.

"Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one who cares," she murmured while arranging a few more books. Despite the difficulties, the love she felt for the bookstore kept her going. She knew that every book there wasn't just an object but a doorway to other worlds. And as long as she could, she would do everything possible to protect that special place.

A light knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. A customer walked in, interrupting her introspection, looking around with a curious air.

"Good afternoon! Can I help you with something?" Mia asked, keeping a warm smile on her face, although her mind was still a bit distant.

The customer hesitated before answering, “Oh, yes! I’m looking for something about history. Any recommendations?”

Mia immediately brightened up. “We have great titles in the history section. I can show you a few I often recommend.” She walked over to the shelf, feeling the enthusiasm grow with each step. The bookstore always had that effect on her; even on difficult days, her love for books and the connections they brought made her feel more alive.

As she guided the customer, Mia cast a brief glance at the window, where the sky was already darkening, tinged with soft shades of blue and purple. She knew she’d have to leave soon to meet her aunt at the market, but she couldn’t close the store now with customers to serve.

“Mia!” Tom called, appearing from the back with a box full of new books. His usual carefree smile lit up his face. “Need help with the customer up front? I can give you a hand.”

She smiled, accustomed to his lighthearted tone. “Actually, I’m about to head out. I need to help my aunt at the market. Can you manage on your own for a bit?”

Tom feigned a look of concern, placing a hand on his chest. “On my own? I’ll try not to let the place fall apart.”

“You’ll be fine,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Just don’t suggest a cookbook to someone looking for adventure.”

“Got it,” he winked, with a grin. “Come back soon, or I might end up selling a mystery to someone looking for romance.”

“Just don’t let the customer leave without buying something,” Mia laughed, feeling lighter as she headed to the door.

Outside the bookstore, Mia noticed a crowd gathered near a fancy nightclub at the end of the street, its flashing lights twinkling like stars in the night sky. The distant sound of laughter and vibrant music reached her, suggesting something interesting was happening inside. Though curious, she knew she didn’t have time to get distracted.

With a soft sigh, Mia put on her long gray coat, which wrapped around her like a cozy embrace against the chilly wind. As she walked away from the bookstore, she cast one last glance at the nightclub, imagining the stories that might be unfolding inside.

Inside, however, another story was already in progress. The ceiling lights flashed frantically, and the loud music echoed everywhere, but John remained focused. The target was at the center of attention, surrounded by women laughing and dancing around him, a scene that only reinforced the superficiality of those people. A dishonest smile spread across the man’s face, and it made John’s stomach churn. He had a job to do, and none of that distracted him.

He positioned himself in a shadow, observing from a distance. The voices were a blur, the music a distant wave, while his mind focused only on the task at hand. The festive atmosphere was a stark contrast to the coldness enveloping his heart. The world around him became just a backdrop as he prepared to move.

John moved with precision, each step planned and calculated. He infiltrated the crowd, his presence almost invisible, like a ghost passing unnoticed. The laughter and pulsating music around him became distant noise; his only concern was the man who stood out among the rest.

He identified two security guards nearby, chatting casually, their attention drawn to the nightclub’s lively scene. Seizing the distraction, John approached silently, his trained body moving with almost supernatural grace. With a swift move, he neutralized the first guard, a precise strike that left him unconscious before he could make a sound.

The second guard had no time to react. In a split second, John was already on him, using the silenced weapon for a clean shot. The man fell, unaware of what had just happened. Now, only the target remained standing, surrounded by admirers who seemed oblivious to the approaching threat.

John adjusted his aim, feeling the adrenaline surge through his veins. The man, still laughing and enjoying himself, had no idea what was about to happen. He pulled the trigger, and with a single shot, the man fell, his smile frozen on his face.

The music continued to play, but a murmur of confusion began to spread as people around started to notice the scene. John, keeping calm, quickly withdrew. His experience had taught him always to have an escape plan. He moved through the shadows, blending in with the crowd, avoiding curious looks as he headed for the exit.

With his skill in disappearing amidst chaos, John left the nightclub unnoticed. The weight of a completed mission lingered, but he had no time to dwell on it. However, as he stepped out onto the street, a thought hit him: there was a nearby bookstore he couldn’t get out of his mind, the peaceful and welcoming atmosphere he’d felt upon entering. The memory of the young woman who had caught his attention brought a soft sigh to his lips.

He hesitated for a moment, the bookstore’s door in sight, but the memory of the mission pulled him back to reality. He decided that, for now, he should keep his distance. There were other concerns on his mind, like the consequences of what had just happened.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

On a rainy day, Mia was organizing some books on a high shelf, balancing on the tips of her toes. The late afternoon was approaching, and the sunlight filtered through the large bookstore windows, casting long golden shadows on the wooden floor. Her friend and coworker, Tom, had missed work due to illness and had sent a prior notice to the young woman. She sighed softly, distracted by the thoughts that haunted her. The bookstore, once her grandfather's refuge, now felt like a growing responsibility weighing on her shoulders. Keeping his legacy alive was important, but finances were tight, and she feared she wouldn’t be able to keep it open much longer.

Additionally, the worry about Tom tormented her. She always considered him more than just a coworker—he was a dear friend, and his absence left her uneasy. With the kindness that was characteristic of her, she thought of stopping by his house later to bring some warm tea and maybe some homemade food. A simple gesture, but one that could make all the difference on such a cold and rainy day.

When she came down the ladder, a familiar sensation took hold of her—that comforting stillness. The doorbell rang, the sound light but enough to catch her attention. She turned, and her eyes once again met the figure of the mysterious man. He was standing there, silent as always, but something in his gaze seemed different from the first time—an exhaustion, perhaps, or a heavier burden on his shoulders.

“Good afternoon! What a surprise to see you again,” she said with a soft smile. “Did something bring you back today?”

John didn’t answer immediately. He made an almost imperceptible movement with his head, as if agreeing, and began walking slowly through the aisles, running his fingers along the spines of the books. The contrast between his calm walk and the intensity he carried was almost palpable. Mia watched from her place at the counter, feeling a growing curiosity. Who was this man who appeared so unexpectedly, and why did that weary look always linger in his eyes?

Mia continued to observe him for a few moments as he wandered through the aisles, his hands lightly touching the books as if searching for something he couldn’t quite define. There was a tension in his movements, a constant vigilance, but at the same time, something about the bookstore seemed to soften him. Maybe it was the warm, welcoming atmosphere, or perhaps Mia’s presence, so different from anyone else he encountered in his routine.

She approached the counter, maintaining a respectful distance but not losing the lightness in her posture. “If you need help finding something... I’m here,” she said, her voice low, almost as if she was aware that he preferred silence.

John paused for a second, his dark eyes studying her over the books. There was no direct distrust, but a trace of caution was always present. Even so, he nodded slightly, accepting the offer without words, as if the simple act of Mia being there, offering genuine tranquility, was already something he didn’t find elsewhere.

She realized he wasn’t the type of person to open up easily, and that didn’t bother her. There was a natural calm between them, as if the silence between their few words said more than any hurried conversation could.

While he scanned the books, Mia watched from afar, organizing the pile she had finished arranging earlier. Her thoughts, which had been trapped in the difficulties she faced with the bookstore, now floated around the unexpected presence of that man. The mystery surrounding him intrigued her, but more than that, there was something about him that made her want to offer more than just a refuge.

John, sensing her gaze, finally broke the silence. “This place... seems different from the last times I was here,” he said, almost as if speaking more to himself than to her.

Mia raised an eyebrow, surprised by the comment. “Maybe it’s the time of day,” she replied softly, not wanting to force an answer from him. “Or maybe you’re just seeing the place differently today.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but there was a slight nod of agreement in his eyes. She was right, and he knew it. The world outside was cold, unforgiving. But here, between books and whispers of stories he had never read, there was a small moment of peace—a breath amid the chaos he usually called life.

Their interaction was brief, almost imperceptible, but carried a depth that both recognized, even without admitting it. Mia smiled, returning to her work, respecting the silence she knew was so important to him. John, for his part, continued to walk among the shelves, more relaxed, but still alert to everything around him, as if something inside him knew that the peace found here was temporary.

As Mia continued to organize the books, the rain outside intensified, filling the bookstore’s silence with a steady and almost hypnotic rhythm. The small, cozy space became an even more welcoming refuge on days like this. Several people were scattered around the store, some sitting on comfortable sofas along the sides, immersed in their reading, others at the small coffee table, talking in low voices. The bookstore pulsed with the softness of whispers and the sound of turning pages, creating an atmosphere that warmed Mia’s heart a little more.

She discreetly watched John from behind the counter, seeing him lose himself among the shelves, his fingers brushing the spines of the books as if searching for something familiar, yet unattainable. The contrast between his presence and that of the other people was palpable—while everyone else seemed relaxed, he radiated a silent tension.

A sudden thought crossed her mind. It was a cold and wet afternoon, and although she knew he was a reserved man, perhaps a simple gesture of kindness would be welcome. She hesitated for a brief moment, wondering if it would be intrusive, but the memory of how he seemed more at ease in the bookstore encouraged her.

Without saying anything, Mia went to the back of the store, where she kept a small kitchen for herself, something she had inherited from her grandfather. Quickly, she prepared a to-go cup of coffee. The warm, comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and she smiled softly, appreciating the contrast between the sound of the rain and the welcoming smell of coffee.

When Mia returned to the front of the store, she saw John sitting on one of the sofas, the book resting on the table in front of him. He was engrossed in reading, his eyes fixed on the pages, but his rigid posture revealed a constant vigilance, as if every sound around him was something to be analyzed, a possible sign of danger, even in a seemingly safe environment like the bookstore.

Mia approached carefully, holding the to-go cup with both hands. The warm, familiar aroma filled the air, a comforting reminder in contrast to the cold rain outside. As she neared the table beside John, where he had momentarily rested the book, she placed the cup on the surface gently, trying not to disturb the silence.

“I... made some coffee for you,” she said softly, almost as if offering a gift. There was a quiet kindness in her voice, something that didn’t demand anything in return. The closed cup was a practical choice, allowing him to decide what to do—whether to take it or leave it behind.

John slowly raised his gaze, the surprise in his dark eyes quickly replaced by an expression of caution. He observed the cup for a few seconds, his mind analyzing every detail of the gesture. Part of him found it curious, almost unsettling, that someone would offer something so simple without a hidden motive. In his world, where kindness often came with ulterior motives, accepting something from a stranger felt like a risk.

But at the same time, there was something different here—a touch of authenticity in Mia’s way. She didn’t seem to demand anything in return, just left the coffee as a considerate gesture, and then moved away. There was no insistence, no attempt to get closer beyond that small act. That made him hesitate.

With a controlled movement, he murmured, “Thank you.” His voice was low, carrying a near-automatic suspicion, but at the same time, there was a small spark of acknowledgment. He knew this didn’t have to be a threat, but his nature prevented him from fully letting his guard down.

Mia nodded with a small smile and returned to the counter, respecting his space, without trying to continue the conversation. She did what felt right and now left it up to him to decide what to do with the coffee.

John remained seated, looking at the cup on the table in front of him. He didn’t pick it up immediately, nor did he reject it. Instead, he continued pondering the gesture. Why would someone do that? He was used to favors coming with a price, to kindnesses masking dubious intentions. It was almost instinctive to see the coffee as something potentially risky, something he should refuse.

And yet, the warmth emanating from the cup seemed to bring a sense of comfort. It wasn’t the coffee itself, but the simplicity of the gesture, the offer of something in a world that, for him, rarely offered rest. He knew that distrust was a survival tool, but part of him—a part he rarely listened to—wanted to believe that there was nothing more behind that coffee than pure kindness.

He left the cup there for now, untouched but not forgotten. He continued reading, trying to focus on the words before him, but his mind wandered back to the cup. That small act of humanity made him uncomfortable, but because it was something so different from his reality.

John didn’t drink the coffee right away, but he knew he would take it with him when he left. He didn’t know if he would take a sip later or leave it in some corner, but the simple fact that it was there, offered so genuinely, made him reconsider, if only for a brief moment, the isolation he imposed on himself.

While the environment around continued with the soft sounds of turning pages and the pattering of rain, Mia watched from the corner of her eye, returning to her routine tasks. She understood that he was a man surrounded by shadows, but even the darkest nights have their stars.

As the afternoon passed, John finally got up, leaving a few bills on the table to cover the coffee and the book. Without looking directly at her, he left the store quietly, just as he had arrived. But something about his departure felt less cold this time, as if, little by little, he was opening up to something beyond the constant vigilance.

Next chapter!

[danyayeni2]

i had an idea for my john wick x oc art but idk if i'll finish this so have this for now

[alice-of-hightable]

<sighs> I need a hug. Boudreaux is off huntin’ gators for the next week or so, Dad’s still in New York, no idea where J is, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to head to Europe to follow V, sorry, *Marquis* and Señor Chidi around…and it’s probably a bad idea to go pester Akira. The seclusion of the swamps is nice, but it makes it harder to be around people. Even the crows and Missy (the baby gator) are getting antsy without visitors

[tobytheeggo]

This is too silly not to post here

Hearst belongs to @evrensadwrn :3

[kavalyera]

drew my oc hearst

[soulacheron]

Darkest Nightmares

Wicktober prompt day 20 - Nightmares | event organizer @wickblr

Note: This idea just randomly appeared in my head, and I thought it could fit Santino and Acheron well. So, yes, here is a little ficlet about Santino having a nightmare, and his demon assistant Acheron helped him get through the tough night. Human form Acheron, btw ;)

Have some Santino & Acheron, enjoy! :]

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

The night was long and insufferable, the air felt heavy, the room felt hot and almost claustrophobic. It was one of those nights, the long and terrifying ones that Santino had to get himself through alone.

Vivid memories mixed with nightmares, it felt so real, he was physically and mentally feeling everything that was happening in his mind and he couldn't do anything. He was shaking, hands clenching his pillow and sheets, his breathing hitched from time to time as if he couldn't breathe. He felt sick, he felt dizzy, all that while he was asleep, unaware of his surroundings, all he could focus on was the horrible nightmare. A nightmare that had some reality in it.

It was 4 am when it was happening, the halls of the D'Antonio mansion were dark, everyone was sleeping except Santino's best assistant, Acheron. He doesn't need sleep, only rest sometimes. Usually, during the night, Acheron would do some of Santino's paperwork to help him out, to make it easier for him. After all, Santino wasn't looking too good lately. He started smoking more, drinking before going to sleep without even eating anything, so sometimes he would wake up feeling sick and hungover. As far as Acheron knew, this evening, Santino drank only half a glass of the wine, he looked worried the whole day, and no one could really figure out why. Not even Acheron.

He just signed the last paper when he started feeling uneasy, like there was danger nearby, that something was wrong with Santino. He placed the papers back to their place and went to check out the situation.

There wasn't anything unusual while he walked through the halls, everything was silent, he could only hear his footsteps. Yet the closer he got to Santino's room the more he heard… whimpers? Sobs? Acheron tried to figure out the noise as he leaned his head closer to the door. His master’s noises sounded like he was struggling, like he was in pain and Acheron couldn't let him stay like that.

He carefully opened the door, silently sneaking towards Santino. He stopped right next to him, noticing how he was trembling, gripping the sheets, he really wasn't looking too good. Acheron thought about waking him up, he was struggling in his sleep, Acheron couldn't just let that continue.

“Master,” he whispered, gently rubbing Santino's arm yet he didn't react only winced but that was all.

Acheron stopped for a second, thinking what to do, he felt bad seeing his master like this, it wasn't fair that Santino had to go through another night like this.

“Master,” Acheron tried again, a little louder this time and shaked his arm a little more. “Wake up, it's okay.” He repeated it a few more times until Santino gasped softly, startled awake and disoriented.

The demon stepped back to give him some space, turning his head to look for a glass or a bottle so he could bring him some water. He heard Santino shuffling with the sheets, but he thought it was only him trying to regain himself. “I'm right here-” Acheron started when he looked back but stopped himself mid sentence when there was a barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead.

He could see it in Santino's eyes, they weren't clear, he was confused, he didn't recognize his assistant, his hand was shaking, he was still breathing a bit heavier. Acheron slowly raised his hands in surrender, “It's me, Master.” It didn't work, Santino was still holding the gun. “Acheron. Your assistant.”

That seemed to finally get to Santino, he blinked, sighing and slowly lowering his gun, but still looking at his assistant. D'Antonio looked terrified for a moment, like he couldn't process what just happened. “I’m sorry,” Santino whispered and Acheron took the gun away, placing it at the counter.

“It's okay, you're safe,” Acheron said, trying to sound reassuring, since he could see that his master was distressed.

“No, no, I'm so sorry,” Santino murmured, almost too quietly for Acheron to hear. “I'm sorry- I didn't mean to.” He rubbed his face and pinched his eyes closed in an attempt to fully wake himself up.

“I understand, it's okay.” At this moment, Acheron wasn't sure what to say, he wanted to give Santino some time to process everything. But he felt the need to tell him to breathe, seeing how panicked Santino looked, he couldn't let him have a panic attack. “Just breathe for me, okay? Slowly.”

Santino actually looked annoyed for a moment, just mostly at himself for reacting the way he did and now he was struggling to calm down his breathing. “Fuck, I really… I don't know why I did that.” Santino tried to inhale and exhale calmly, but it was still shaky and it was like he couldn't do anything. It was then when Acheron noticed a glistening trail down Santino's face.

The sobbing he had heard.

“Master, have you cried?” Santino looked up at him in confusion.

“What?” He breathed out, feeling his face and the wet spot. “No… I didn't. What is this?” He was so confused, in disbelief, and nothing was making sense.

“You probably had a nightmare that was too intense. It happens, though, especially if you were stressed out these days.” And, Santino was stressed out these days. Acheron thought it was something about work but now it looked like there was something more.

“What the fuck… I could've shot you.” Santino looked over at the gun on the counter, not really listening to Acheron.

“Well, I can't really die. Although it would hurt.” Acheron tried to use a little bit of his charm to help and calm down the tension. “And it would stain your bed and I don't want that.”

Somehow, that made Santino laugh, but it was a sudden chuckle that turned into more of a desperate laugh as he tried to stop himself, lowering his head to hide his face with his band. “What have I done?” He whispered when he got himself to stop.

“Nothing. Nothing bad happened.” Acheron took this as an opportunity to try and feel Santino's forehead in case he got a high temperature, but it was like Santino sensed that he was getting closer to him.

“Don't touch me.” D'Antonio warned, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Okay, I won't.” Acheron stepped back. There was silence for a few seconds before Acheron tried again, however a bit hesitant, “I'm… not sure having a gun under your pillow is the safest option for you. Maybe in the drawer?”

“Just… shut up. I feel sick, stop talking.” For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick, and having his head down and then looking up made it worse. He cursed something in Italian, Acheron stood right there in front of him in case if he had to help him get to the bathroom. However, Santino managed to take some deep breaths, remembering what Acheron told him, to breathe slowly.

“Okay?” Acheron asked softly, studying Santino's face and body language.

“I… I think so,” Santino nodded slowly, voice barely above whisper. “What time is it?”

“Half past five in the morning.”

Santino sighed in frustration, his mind was racing with so many thoughts. “I can't believe this happened again.”

“It passed now. You're okay.” Well, it could still take Santino some time to fully regain himself.

“I think it was instinctive…” Santino paused to exhale, “To grab the gun. But I thought…”

“What?” Acheron asked softly.

“I thought you were someone else.”

Oh. Acheron was right then. That look in Santino's eyes told everything. Fear, confusion, disorientation, anger. The assistant guessed it was probably better not to ask him who he saw instead of him, but he knew it was only slow steps with Santino when it came to helping him open up about his emotions. No matter what reaction he would get from Santino, he could understand his feelings more that way.

“Do you want to maybe tell me who you thought-”

“No, no,” Santino cut him off, “I don't want to talk about it.”

Acheron nodded, sensing sorrow and misery mixed with anger in his master. Whoever he saw must've done something terrible to him. “How about I bring you some water? Or tea? Anything you'd like,” he offered.

“Water is fine,” Santino replied quietly.

While Acheron was getting him water, Santino got up, felt dizzy but supported himself on the counter to get to the window. He opened it and felt the cold fresh morning air, inhaling and exhaling it.

“Oh, Master, what are you doing?” Acheron asked, placing the glass on the counter and rushed towards him.

“I'm fine, I just need some air,” Santino replied. Sometimes, Acheron's worry would annoy him, even if deep down he knew he only meant to protect him. “Don't touch me.”

Acheron stopped, he was about to hold his shoulders in support. “Okay. I brought you water.”

Santino sighed deeply, closing his eyes, “Thank you.”

The demon stood on the side, waiting for Santino to take in some deep breaths. It took him a few minutes and decided to come back to bed after he shivered from the breeze. He was quiet, didn't say anything when he sat on the bed, took the glass and drank almost everything.

“Put the gun away,” Santino murmured quietly.

“I'm sorry?” Acheron asked since he didn't hear him properly.

“Put the fucking gun away, I don't want to look at it,” D'Antonio snapped, “Put it in the drawer.”

Acheron did what he was told, putting the gun in the drawer. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Santino stayed quiet again, swallowing nervously and looking down at the floor. “I almost pulled the trigger.”

“You didn't.”

“I almost did. You started talking and I stopped myself.”

“You wouldn't kill me, I can't die,” Acheron reminded him.

“I know. What if it wasn't you? What if it was someone else?” Santino looked at him, finally after some time.

“Well…” Acheron sighed, “It didn't happen, it's best not to think about that.” He was worried it would upset if they started talking about it.

“It could've have-”

“Master.” Acheron cut him off. “Everything's alright.” He had to snap him out of it.

Santino looked puzzled, but this time, he didn't snap back at him. Instead, he nodded and looked away from him. “Right… yes. I guess so.”

“You should feel safe in your own home. With me, I can guarantee that you're safe here.”

His master stayed quiet again. He should feel safe here, his reaction was out fear, instinctive and not the first time this happened. “I know. I'm sorry if I ever doubt you, sometimes I forget that you're a demon and immortal.”

Acheron chuckled softly, “It's alright, I understand. I just want you to feel like you're safe.”

“Yeah. You want that and my soul one day.” It looked like Santino relaxed a little, finally.

“I'm glad you're feeling better,” Acheron smiled. “Joking so early.”

“Don't get used to it,” Santino groaned as he felt the back of his neck. He probably got a little stiff while sleeping. He also noticed that his skin felt warm, so Acheron was right about his suspicion.

“Alright,” Acheron nodded, “Would you like any pills? Painkillers? However, I don't recommend drinking them on an empty stomach.”

“No, I'm barely drinking water. I'll be fine, thank you.” Perhaps chugging down water so quickly wasn't the right move, since now it was starting to make him feel sick again.

“Are you sure you'll be fine?”

“Yes, I'll sleep through it. Or… I don't know, stay awake. It wouldn't be the first time.”

“It's better to get some sleep, Master. The nightmare wouldn't continue, I'm sure.” Acheron couldn't promise it won't continue, he was just hoping his master would continue sleeping peacefully.

“We'll see. I'd like to be left alone now.” The sunrise started to appear and that didn't help Santino's sudden headache.

“Whatever you say, Master,” Acheron said and bowed his head in respect. “You can always call me whenever you need me.”

Santino only nodded in response and lay back down on the bed, hearing the door close when Acheron left.

Sleep through it. Acheron couldn't stop thinking about what his master said. Santino said that so casually, so he was doing it often and Acheron couldn't always tell when.

Santino even managed to trick his own demon assistant into thinking he was fine when he wasn't. ‘Impressive.’ Acheron thought.

In the morning, at 8 am, Santino woke up again. Or he never slept. Acheron noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and he just wasn't looking too well. It also took him a longer time to get out of his room, so the demon only thought of the worst, that his master was sick in the bathroom.

Santino was in the kitchen, drinking coffee, or attempting to since this time it tasted awful and made him feel nauseous again. So, he only drank a little bit.

While Santino was still there, Acheron went to his room and immediately noticed that the gun was on the counter again. Why? Acheron thought Santino wanted it out of his sight for at least a day.

Well, Acheron left it there, knowing Santino doesn't like when his things are being touched or put away. But it made him worried and he wanted to ask Santino about it, but seeing how tired he looked, he didn't do it. He didn't want to upset him.

“Acheron. Let's go, we'll be late.” He heard Santino calling for him and he obeyed, following his master and his orders like always.

Acheron wondered the whole day what was the nightmare that upset Santino so much to the point of almost having a panic attack. His master wasn't talking much with him today either, he was just doing the negotiations with people, being his usual self, trying to get the most with his charm and silver tongue. No one could see that he was drained and exhausted except Acheron and Santino preferred it to stay that way.

[yvettecyrus]

@johnwickcaretaker

✶ Yvette stepped off the plane, the oppressive heat and humidity a stark contrast to the cool, moonlit streets of Paris. She had crossed an ocean to find John, and the mission weighed heavily on her. Chara, her black cat, nestled comfortably in her travel bag, peeked out, her green eyes glinting with curiosity and alertness.

The drive to the woods felt interminable. The city’s chaos faded into memory, replaced by the encroaching silence of the forest. Yvette’s irritation grew with each passing mile. She despised these desolate trees, their barren branches clawing at the sky, a far cry from the urban labyrinth she navigated with ease.

✶ As she parked at the trailhead and began the trek into the forest, Chara leapt from the bag, her sleek form darting ahead, then circling back to stay close. Yvette’s footsteps were nearly silent, a skill honed from centuries of practice, but the crunch of leaves and the occasional snap of twigs still grated on her nerves.

“I hate this,” she muttered to Chara, who responded with a soft meow, her tail flicking in agreement. “Why couldn’t he hide somewhere more… civilized?” Chara wrapped her tail around her owners leg in response, just before jumping to her shoulders.

✶ Yvette’s role as a tracker for the Marquis demanded patience and precision, qualities she possessed in abundance. Yet, the forest’s oppressive solitude unnerved her, the silence pressing in, amplifying her thoughts. Gun in hand, she had to remain cautious, not just because of the Marquis’s orders, but also due to the myriad dangers these woods concealed.

[princesslacroix]

my blond ocs

- a.p. hearst/agent a. connor

- lamia luxia

- dr. briar kelley

- polina volkova

- lucas chasen

my aspec ocs

- a.p. hearst/agent a. connor (aroace)

- lamia luxia (aroace)

- dr. briar kelley (aro-lesbian)

- polina volkova (aroace)

- lucas chasen (bi-ace)

[blairwick]

Are there any transgender John Wick OCs?

[thewhumpcaretaker]

embers for nik perchance?🔥🔥

Thank you for the ask!! Aaaaaa this was so fun🔥

[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.

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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!

[pinkheadwithagun]

And so, here we come to what I will often publish under the hashtag "John Wick". My OC for the AU that I described earlier!

Introducing Lia Williams!

I’ll tell you briefly here, but then maybe I’ll post a more detailed biography. I will often post my ideas about her story, as well as memes. If possible, I will translate everything into English!

As a child, Lia ended up in an orphanage after being surrendered there by her father. He became addicted to alcohol and did not want to spoil his daughter's future.

She was taken from the orphanage for training because she fit the required parameters.

When she completed her studies, John, who at that time was still serving to the High Table, was randomly assigned as her mentor (you can’t blame me, for almost a year I thought I was the only one in this fandom 😭)

She studied with him for only a few years, but during this time, Wick practically replaced her father, although from the outside you couldn’t tell.

Lia had to leave John's house when he decided to retire. This meant the end of her training, but unfortunately, since John wanted to end everything that tied him to crime for Helen's sake, it also meant the end of his relationship with Lia.

Before the events of the films, Lia works at the High Table and reluctantly rises through the ranks.

In the end, the Marquis literally takes her for himself, because the person who was with Wick in his moments of greatest defenselessness, like sleep or breakfast, can certainly be useful in killing him.

I will tell more fragments of the story in my other posts. I would be very glad to have any questions about the AU or regarding Lia, she is one of my favorite characters and I really love her and the whole world of the franchise in general!

[alice-of-hightable]

*crack* *crash* *crack* *crash* *crack* *tink*

*Gigi sighs as she sees where she hit the target, tucking her slingshot back in her pocket and going to set up more bottles and flip the metal target. Her hunting boots squish into the mud from a couple bouts of rain, the first signal that hurricane season has started. The incident with Nickandr still flashing in her mind, the tiny bit of glee from not being scolded, the terror when Jardani lost consciousness. She thought he was gonna die. She doesn’t even remember the fanboat ride or even patching him up, just remembering when he woke up…then he left. Couldn’t even bother to tell her to her face and left a note instead*

“Boudreaux says you comin’ back. Let’s hope you is” *she mutters under her breath before returning to her target practice*

[tobytheeggo]

I bet you Nico’s first word was ‘Cat’ or ‘Kitty’ just because of all the Cat propaganda Orin feeds into

[kavalyera]

“I’d be pretty cool if I had the will to survive.”

John Wick OC, 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑