#keau reeves fanfic

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Stepdaddy

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- Its here and now I lowkey wanna write more of this)

Summary- Caught in a lustful attraction, Keanu and his soon to be step daughter, fall victim to their desire. *OFC (Y/n) is over 18. (I beg you, please don’t kill me.)

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, daddy kink, semi-public sex, infidelity (please just read the title and summary), age gap

Keanu knew it was wrong, with every fiber in his being, from the depths of his experienced mind all the way down to the very tips of his toes, he knew for certain, it was wrong. But he couldn't help himself, for though he’d prided himself on having a strict moral code, he was, at the base of it, a man. A man who could appreciate a gorgeous woman when he saw one. If only that gorgeous woman wasn’t mere months away from being his step daughter.

From the minute they’d met, Keanu had found himself urging resistance, he loved his fiancée, he did. Caroline. She was a notable, and incredibly talented designer and they’d met when the fashion house she worked with had sourced him as the face of their fall line. Falling for hadn’t been instantaneous, instead, they’d spent a few too many nights together and gotten to talking. He’d found something in her, a resting place for his weary soul, a familiarity that had yet to be discovered in anyone else. They were both well travelled, old souls and no matter where they were, as long as they were together, it felt like home. When they’d gotten together, Keanu was positive that he’d never have eyes for another. That was, until he met her daughter. 

The spitting image of her mother, thought minus twenty something years in age, Y/n was jaw-droppingly stunning. From the minute she’d walked into the room, that night when she’d returned from a month-long trip to Paris with some of her friends, Keanu found it hard to tear his gaze away. She was magnetic, far more melancholic than her mother and had this sort of dark princess, too moody to be the life of the party kind of vibe. But still, there wasn’t a soul that didn’t gravitate towards her when she entered a room. Y/n was a paradox of sorts, wildly mysterious yet disarmingly charming. 

After their initial introduction, just some seven or eight months prior, she’d become a staple of their Malibu household- he and Caroline had agreed that they would move into her place on the beach; it was the one thing she’d held on to after her husband’s untimely passing and where she’d raised her only child. At first, Keanu welcomed the idea, anything for his dear Caroline, though, months later, he was slowly beginning to regret it. Especially when work had taken Caroline to Italy, leaving him to often find Y/n lounging near the poolside, with her model friends and whatever lucky man had been in her good graces at that point. 

They never seemed to last; the men, and every time one stopped coming around, Keanu would breathe a sigh of relief. It was ridiculous really, but he’d somehow developed the notion that if he couldn’t have her, no one else should. He wanted her, physically he ached for her, especially after seeing how the scarce fabric of her bikinis would hug her curves. And then to add insult to injury, during the stretch of her mother's absence and the short stint of one of those overly pompous surfer boys, he’d stumbled upon the most vulgar thing on his way to his and Caroline's shared bedroom. 

Well, maybe ‘stumbled upon’ might have been too generous. Maybe he’d followed the sounds of strained yelps and heavy grunts all the way to a slightly ajar door that led to Y/n’s bedroom. A peek in had proven to boil his blood upon finding her with her back pressed against the dresser, panties hanging off one of her ankles and her nameless companion jerking her body into the furniture. Part of him was illogically enraged, jealous. But another part had stiffened, hardening in his pants and when he’d found the will to rip his eyes away from the scene, Keanu had stolen to his room, taking himself in his hand after a pumping some lotion from a bottle on the nearby nightstand into his palm, grunting Y/n’s name through clenched teeth as he fucked himself. After that, it was hard to look at Y/n without thinking of what he'd seen, without wishing it had been him with her that afternoon instead. 

That night, long after Caroline’s return, when they had made reservations at a nearby restaurant to celebrate the green light on her latest line, Keanu, for a few dear minutes, had been able to give his fiancée his full attention. He wished it could have lasted longer, because every time his mind wandered, it made him feel guilty, but they were just heading out through the front door when Y/n sauntered in, from a hallway off to the side, head down and loose tresses, curtain her face as she secured her phone in her large clutch. She swayed her hips slowly and thin heels thumped quietly on the hardwood. “Sorry,” she breathed absently, not looking at them.

“Glad you decided to join us,” Caroline huffed and unlike Y/n, all Keanu could do was stare. And try to not drool. Her black dress was skin tight, sporting a high slit at her left thigh as if its already lacking hem didn’t boast her smooth legs. Spaghetti straps supported a dangerously low neckline and he had to actively avoid ogling at how her full breasts seemed pushed together. A bright ruby pendant drew attention to her cleavage, while similar stones shone on the ear that she’d tucked some of her hair behind, though, none of the exquisite stones were as deep or dark as her full lips, caught in a perpetual pout. 

As she lifted her head, Y/n rolled her eyes, sighing softly as she met her mother’s fallen expression, her own softening as she spoke next, “I said I was sorry,” Y/n sighed again, approaching her mother and seemingly ignoring him at her side. As Y/n leaned in to peck Caroline’s cheek though, her bare arm brushed his, and Keanu could have sworn electricity passed between them. “You know I wouldn’t miss this mom, it’s important to you.”

“I know,” Caroline smiled softly, slipping her arm into Keanu’s, “Isn’t Shane joining us?” She inquired absently as the slipped through the front door, the steps illumined by yellow, glowing porch lights. 

Scoffing, Keanu barely missed the way Y/n brushed some hair out of her face as she did. “He’s…..we’re done.”

“So soon?” Keanu was the one who spoke up that time, his interest peaked. Shane had been around for longer than the others. They’d actually met him and Caroline seemed to like him well enough for her daughter.

“Mm hmm,” Y/n hummed, being the first to get into the back of the black, heavily tinted sedan so he and her mother could sit together, “He was boring.” She never came off as one interested in offering many words, and as far back as Keanu remembered, they’d only had a handful of full conversations. If it weren’t for Caroline telling him, he wouldn’t have even known that she had a job outside of lounging by the pool almost everyday; she was a fashion curator, whatever that meant. 

“He’s a doctor!” Caroline defended, knitting her brows, “A doctor for Doctors Without Borders, what’s so boring about that?”

Shifting so she could look out the window, Y/n propped her chin on her hand, her elbow stationed on the door, “I don’t know,” she shrugged half heartedly, already off in her own world, “He just was.”

Keanu threw Caroline, who’d realized that Y/n wasn’t really entertained by the conversation, a sympathetic look, effectively hiding his satisfaction with how unattached her daughter was. “Alright dear,” she gnawed on her lower lip and Keanu affectionately squeezed her hand in his, “Whatever you say.”

Vacantly, Y/n stared at her half finished meal, fork held loosely between her fingers. Occasionally, when she’d raise her head to take a sip of her wine, she’d meet the sight of her mother leaning into Keanu’s embrace as they shared innocent pecks ever so often. She liked seeing her mother happy, it had been years since her father’s passing after all, and Keanu was the first person she’d let get that close, but despite it all, Y/n was still jealous. Not jealous of her happiness, but really, who she'd found happiness with; Keanu.

He was smolderingly attractive; the specs of salt in his beard, the dark locks falling perfectly over his rugged features, his broad shoulders and towering stature. Y/n could see the appeal, and she could see it well enough to want her chance at him. It was twisted, immature and he should have been off limits, but there was just something about his rich pools of whiskey that sent shivers up her spine when he laid eyes on her. And Y/n went out of her way to make sure he laid eyes on her.

It was particularly hard either; half her time back at the house was spent in a swimsuit anyway, and she’d been especially sure to wear her skimpiest pieces when  she knew for sure that he'd be out on the balcony for his late night smoke. It wasn't overtly obvious, but Y/n could tell her efforts were paying off. Sometimes, depending on what she was wearing and if they were alone in a room, she could feel his eyes following her around, and then, there were some more…….unsavory things that she'd been privy to. 

It had never been Y/n's intention to hurt her mother, or steal her boyfriend, but who could resist a man as magnificent. Keanu was every girl's wet dream, older, hunky and no doubt experienced, in all respects. Besides, it wasn't like she was trying to snatch him away forever, at most, she wanted to show him a good time, what her girl her age could do before he and her mom got hitched. 

Speaking of the wedding.

"Y/n?" Her mother roused her attention, just as her eyes had started straying towards the ocean view offered through the window, "I’ve waiting to ask you something when we were all together, as a family," Caroline reached across the table for her daughter's hand, "I know that we haven’t been as close as we used to be before you left for college. But you're still my daughter, my little ballerina," at the words, Y/n blushed, memories of a simpler time flashing across her mind, "And I'd love it if you'd be my maid of honor."

Widening her eyes, Y/n's jaw slacked, "Mom…..I'd be honored." Mustering up a smile and doing her best to ignore Keanu. That moment wasn't about him, it was about her and her mother.

"Really?" Caroline cooed giddily, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. For a split second, a pang of guilt stabbed at her chest. Her mother was marrying Keanu. Her mother who'd sworn off dating after a horrible accident vowed her a single parent. Her mother, who'd taken her around the world as a child, along with an armory of private tutors, just so Y/n could have the best of both worlds. Her mother, and there she was, trying to seduce her fiancé. How ungrateful could she be?

Chuckling fondly, Y/n tilted her head, "Of course mom, I'd love to be your maid of honor."

"Oh! I'm so happy to hear that," Caroline sniffled, "Keanu can tell you, I've been meaning to ask since you got back. But we hadn't even started planning the wedding yet, and then I had to go to Italy and I didn't just want to spring it on you either," her smile faltered, and Y/n knew where her mother was going with that, "I know that it's been almost fifteen years, but I didn't want you to think that I'm marrying Keanu to replace your father."

The memories of him stung and Y/n had to clench her jaw as she shook her head, "I know. It's been…..a long time, since he…...doesn't matter," clearing her throat, Y/n was suddenly fighting tears, "You deserve to have love again."

"Y/n's right sweetheart," Keanu pecked the top of her mother's head, "And I'm so happy that I'm the only that gets to love you."

Even if she'd just reprimanded herself, seeing Keanu coddle her mother was still a bit annoying, and coupled with the barrage of memories shared with her late father, Y/n was starting to get the feeling that the walls were closing in on her. She needed air, fast. "Excuse me," the chair scraped the tiles noisily as she stood abruptly, discarding her napkin next to her plate on the table, "I think I'm gonna go for a walk, get some fresh air."

As she stalked off hurriedly, Y/n could hear her mother calling after her, asking if she was okay. But the last thing Y/n wanted to do was talk about it and, as she broke through the glass doors of the establishment, sea breeze blasting her face and the sound of waves crashing against the shore filling her hearts, she sighed heavily, grateful to finally be alone with her thoughts.

Replaying the past in her head, like the best parts of a movie on repeat, Y/n walked slowly along the sand dusted wooden pathway tucked against the side of the restaurant. The area was barren of all other life, and dark void of any other lighting besides what was offered by the twinkling night sky. Usually, she supposed the area was used by workers who wanted to escape the bustle without being caught, but that night, it was perfect for a young girl seeking to escape her reality.

If only for a very short while. 

"Is everything okay?" A painfully familiar baritone pierced her thoughts, causing Y/n to turn around as face Keanu. His features were shrouded by the dimness, but she could identify the outline of his frame almost immediately, marveling at how much bigger he looked under the cover of the shadows. 

Blinking away her tears, thankful that he could not see her glassy eyes, Y/n nodded stiffly, "Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

Shrugging, Keanu took a couple steps forward, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "You ran out of there pretty quickly," he nudged towards the restaurant, "Your mom wanted to come talk to you, but I offered to do it instead?"

"Yeah?" A sly smile broke through without her permission, and Y/n folded her arms, leaning against the sturdy guard rail, "Why?"

"I just think it's important for us to be able to have these kinds of conversations, I'm marrying your mother in a few months after all," his words seemed to shake and Y/n was beginning to wonder if concern for her was what had brought him out there. As much as people wanted to believe it, she knew that Keanu was hardly a saint.

"You're right," Y/n teased, subtly inching closer. Any trace of guilt she'd harbored was gone from the minute he'd called out to her. Maybe he should have stayed inside if he wanted to keep up the good guy persona, and maybe, just maybe, Y/n was a little too used to getting want she wanted. "Soon you're gonna be like…..my daddy," raising her brows, she snatched her lower lip between her teeth, "My step daddy," sure enough, she enunciated the word, ensuring that it dripped with seduction.

"So that's why you came out here?" Keanu scoffed, shaking his head and clearly trying to hide his smirk, "You know, you're not as innocent as your mother thinks you are."

Throwing her head back, Y/n chortled, the sound smooth like a full-bodied red, "I never claimed to be, or tired," shaking her shoulder, she was eventually looking at him again, dark, lustrous gaze unwavering, "You on the other hand…..you might have her fooled. Hell, you might have everyone fooled, except for me."

Licking his lips, Keanu hesitated before humoring her, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Don't act so coy," Y/n dismissed with a wave of her jewel adorned hand, "Tell me Keanu," she closed the distance between them, leaving a weak few inches between their bodies, "Do you always call my name when you fuck yourself?"

He knew exactly what she was talking about and Y/n could tell. She'd heard him that day, even when the door muffling her words, in particular, had rang through clearly; her name as he came sloppy all over his fingers. "You heard that?" He breathed hoarsely. 

"And so much more," Y/n fingers lightly trailed the zipper of his leather jacket, and she gazed up at him through her thick lashes, daring him to make the next move. "Wouldn't you like to feel the real thing?" Y/n hummed, "See if I'm as tight as you're imagining." 

"You're a bad girl," he mused, his warm palms ghosting her hips, as if he was scared that touching her would solidify the act. Still, he worked against conscience, "Say it again," he urged, "Call me that again."

Quelling a mischievous soiree, Y/n laid her free hand on his bicep, discarding her last shred of rationality, which screamed that she was possibly among the worst in the world, "Daddy," she purred. "How often do you think about fucking me, Daddy?"

"Too often," he growled, hastily shoving Y/n against the wall. "You walk around in those tiny outfits, like some kind of little slut. And you let frat boys fuck you with the door open. You're practically asking for it."

"And what are you gonna do about that?" Keanu had already hoisted her up, one of Y/n's legs hooking around his hip while the other laid limp. Her arms looped his neck as their proximity had allowed for her breast to be pressed against his chest as she kept a hand planted on her ass. 

"I'm gonna give it to you sweetheart," he nipped at her neck, carefully avoiding any marks, "I wanna be a good Daddy."

"Fuck," a lewd moan escaped her lips, and the feeling of his hard-on pressed against her inner thigh was enough to drench her panties. Keanu merely felt deliciously big. When he nipped on her skin, dragging his teeth as he pulled away, she clutched his bulky arms, nails sinking into the soft leather of his coat. Y/n’s body arched into his as she threw her head back, and Keanu’s hands slipped beneath the hem of her dress, the fabric bunching up at her waist as he roamed her body. “I want you,” she whispered huskily, shutting her eyes and lolling her head back against the wall. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he mumbled, pawing at her ass, kneading and squeezing the firm flesh roughly. Wasting no more time, he shoved her panties away, setting Y/n back on the ground so they could slip down her legs and fall in a sparse pool of racy navy lace at her feet. As Y/n nudged them away with the tip of her stiletto, Keanu got started on the buckle of his belt, aided by her lithe fingers. 

“What if someone sees us?” She probed, finding the zipper of his jeans and then reaching inside his pants to palm his hardened cock through his boxers, grinning wickedly at its undeniable girth.

“Look around baby, no ones gonna see a damn thing,” he offered, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “We just gotta be quick.”

Hissing loudly as she squeezed, Keanu bucked into her touch, groaning languidly when she rubbed her thumb over his cotton clad head. “Then what are you waiting for Daddy? We haven’t got all night.”

“You’re right,” he snarled, hastily collecting her in his strong arms once again, shoving her against the wall, situating himself between her spread legs. Temporarily, he clumsily squeezed one hand between their heated bodies, pushing down his underwear and freeing his cock. “You ready?” Keanu’s rumbling words didn’t await permission before he jerked into Y/n’s dripping cunt, her response reduced to hitched cry. Immediately, she could feel his veins bulging against her sensitive walls, and the slight curve of his shaft reached so deep she could have sworn she felt him in her stomach. “You cunt’s so tight babygirl, perfect for Daddy’s cock.”

The feeling of Keanu nestled in her drenched sex, his pace steady and guiding, while still bordering intense rabidity, had Y/n gasping for breath, not caring if the salty air would assault her senses. His cock expended her, almost to the point of creating the most pleasurable burn, and his bruising grip on her waist, the only thing supporting her, was like electricity. Desperate to touch him, Y/n clawed at his t-shirt, barely aware that ripping it would be an unexplainable disaster. Though, her patience quickly wore thin and she resorted  to sliding her hands down the neck of his t-shirt, reaching for his back. 

Keanu’s tongue, dancing around hers, tasted of the beer he’d been having with dinner, and that, coupled with the lingering Merlot on her tongue was astoundingly intoxicating. The act, the danger of being caught, its depraved immorality, was so sweet that it was drunkening. The feel of Keanu drilling into her, leading her to the threshold of sweet release was far above anything she’d ever felt. The top of his jeans, lowered only enough to allow their sin, chafed the underside of Y/n’s thighs, the friction only adding to the unmatched sensation.

“Oh fuck!” She rasped, sinking her nails into his shoulders, the words swallowed eagerly by Keanu as he rolled his hips aggressively, knowing that they didn’t have much time.

“No marks,” he managed, pulling away and pressing her nose to Y/n’s.  Shrugging hastily, Keanu tried to nudge her hands off, “She can’t know.” Barely registering his words, Y/n still loosened her grip, sliding one of her hands up to disturb the neatness of his hair. Around his hips, her legs tightened, consequently restricting his pace even as she breathlessly mumbled broken pleas for him to go faster. 

As Y/n’s nails scratched his scalp, one of Keanu’s rough palms deserted her hip, roaming her side, yanking down one of the thin, delicate straps of her silky dress down her arm, freeing one of her breasts so he could grope it eagerly, between moments spent rolling her pebbled nipple between his thumb and pointer. Struggling to buck her hips to meet his, Y/n could quickly feel the last threads holding her coherence together getting ready to snap. “I’m gonna…..” Y/n threw her head back, cool night air combating the heat seeping to the surface of her skin. An indecorous cry parted her lips, and she barely got the words out, “I’m close.”

“The come for me,” Keanu gritted, baring his teeth as he buried his face in the crook of Y/n’s neck, “Come all over Daddy’s cock, baby.”

Under the witness of the navy cloak, speckled with twinkling specs of white, and to the melody of foamy water sloshing beneath their shaky feet, the broil in Y/n’s stomach overflowed explosively. Stars, much like the ones teasing them from above, danced on her blurred vision as a rush of slick moisture coated their thighs, bathing Keanu’s swollen member. As she clenched around him, her legs losing sensation, Y/n felt him slow down, his thrusts rigid as Keanu revealed in the feeling.

A vulgar grunt joined their sounds, ending with a series of hitched breaths as Keanu shot generous, hot bursts of his product inside her, coating her slick walls as excess dripped between them. Sloppily and without rhythm, he rode out both their highs, his movements only slowing down almost completely as they came down. 

Stumbling back as he pulled out, Keanu braved himself on the banister, catching his breath. Y/n, still disheveled, slouched against the wall, eyeing Keanu intensely as her chest heaved with deep, heavy breaths. The lingering exhilaration roused the tried smile from her and leaning her head back, Y/n let her eyes slip closed.

"We need to head back inside," Keanu declared, putting himself back together. "Tell you what," he beamed wickedly, bending near Y/n's feet to collect her discarded panties off the floor, "I'll keep these," he crumpled her thong, shoving it into his back pocket, "And you can keep this," without warning, he tossed her the same handkerchief he'd used to hurriedly wipe away the evidence from his thighs.

Before Y/n could even sum up a witty response, still in the process of rearranging her dress, Keanu was adjusting his jacket and running corrective fingers through his full, dark mane. "Don't take too long, alright?" He set off for the side entrance, "See you inside Kid."

As he neared their table, nearer to the cost booths and situated perfectly under the intimate lighting, Keanu watched as Caroline lifted her head, a worried, yet hopeful smile etched across her lovely features. He loved her. "Sweetheart," he bent, pecking her cheek quickly before settling in the chair next to her. As he did, a wave of guilt, incomparable to anything he'd ever felt before then, washed over him. He'd betrayed her, the woman he was going to marry, with no other but her own child. 

"Is everything okay?" She probed gently and when Caroline looked at him, with those familiar eyes so full of love, Keanu felt like he was bare naked and blasted with frigid air.

"Yeah," he gestured elaborately with hands, trying to suppress his muddled feelings, "Yeah, why?"

"Well my daughter left in the middle of dinner and practically ran out of the restaurant and you told me you were gonna talk to her. So I'm just wondering how it went," Keanu knew it wasn't her intention, Caroline trusted him, even if he didn't deserve her trust, but every question was suddenly an interrogation, a witch hunt for the truth.

Sucking in a breath, the feel of her against him, her part breasts to his chest, the warmth between her silken legs, the taste of her skin, it all came back to him in a rush, as if he were still out there with Y/n, losing himself in the pleasure. It had been a while since he'd been with a woman that age, and with the experience he'd had then, the thrill was exalting. He wanted it- her again. But he shouldn't have had her at all. "It was good," he cleared his throat reaching for his beer in hopes of swallowing the lump in his throat. "We had a nice-"

Before he could finish, Y/n was approaching the table with a cool confidence that suggested that nothing out of turn had transpired between them. When she sat though, even if Caroline was completely oblivious, a heavy tension befell their table. "I'm back," she declared with a soft giggle, hiding one of her hands, presumably the one with his kerchief, under the table. 

"You are, Keanu was just telling me that you two talked things through. And sweetie, I just want to apologize, I shouldn’t have brought him up, I know you don’t like to talk about your father,” reaching across the table, Caroline took her hand and Keanu noted how Y/n stiffened, actively avoiding him.

“I should be the one apologizing mom,” Y/n inhaled audibly, her feigned smile faltering, Y/n turned her hand over so she’d have a loose hold on her mother’s manicured fingers, “I’m sorry, about just leaving like that earlier,” for the first time since she sat down, Y/n glanced at Keanu, and he found guilt reflected in her eyes, with something else lingering beneath, desire perhaps. He held her gaze, for a little longer than he was supposed to, and Y/n was eventually the one to turn away, guarding herself as she fixed her attention on her mother once again, “I’m sorry mom.”

*****

Tagging- @crybbyren   @cynic-spirit​  @imagine-the-fanfics​

[fics-not-tragedies]

KINKtober: Day Seventeen

as per anonymous request we have a drabble with Mr. Wick!

“I want you to cum hard princess…” he said, licking his lips. “I want you to stop holding back, I want to hear your gorgeous voice, to scream my name… I’m gonna lick you so good you’d see stars, come, sit on my face princess.”

You trembled, moving upwards your legs at both sides of his head, the words he just spoke mixed with his hands pressed to your thighs being enough for your knees to give in, making you sink down onto his face, his tongue sticking out to make a long lick through your folds instantly, hands gripping on tightly to your ass to make sure he held you up in place.

Your eyes met and your hands flew to the headboard to gain some kind of balance, the look in his eyes was simply too much for you.

“I have the best views from here, princess…” he drawled with his tongue stuck out, licking, teasing, “I’m so fucking happy to have you” the stubble of his beard was teasing the skin of your thighs as he held you up.

“J-John…” you whimpered. You knew it wouldn’t take much for you to come writhing on his face, each movement of his tongue flicking against your clit had your body jolting under his touch.

“I’ll go slow, princess…” he coaxed, his large hands caressing your thighs, squeezing your ass, as his tongue started licking slowly at you again, teasing you, driving you closer to the edge slowly, before slowing down again, allowing you to calm down a little, as you got wetter and wetter with every lick of his skillful tongue, dripping onto his face and he lapped at your juices, going on without missing a beat, drinking it all down and continued eating you shamelessly.

Finding your entrance again and licking around teasingly, only when you attempted to buck your hips giving you what you wanted, darting inside again, making you tremble and you gripped tighter onto the headboard, whining softly.

He moaned, sending shivers up your spine before drawing back for air and you tried to lift your hips, “Mmm, princess… turn around for me” he drawled, his voice deep, needy.

You followed his orders instantly, holding tightly onto the headboard to balance yourself, as you turned around, now reaching behind yourself to hold onto something again, almost falling over when his hands wrapped around your thighs again and he went right back to work, pulling you down on his face and burying his tongue inside you.

Picking up a steady pace he fucked you with his tongue, his nose brushing up against your clit and you despite the lack of strength in your body you found yourself grinding against his face in the the rhythm his tongue had set, whining, begging him for more, throwing your head back, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

His moans against your folds were too much for you, he was turning you on beyond words as he made you gasp when suddenly licking back up at you and flicking your clit harshly, rubbing it over and over again and picking up an unexpectedly torturous pace.

Your eyes snapped open and you tried to hold yourself up before carefully leaning forward, holding yourself up with one hand resting on the mattress next to his hips, wrapping your other hand slowly around his painfully hard cock, feeling him groan loudly, bucking up into your touch.

You smirked, teasing his tip before starting to to stroke him slowly but increasing the pace. He was throbbing in your hand and his hips bucked up desperately into your hand, breathing heavier against you, the movements of his tongue less steady but pressing down harder, making you cry and you leaned down to lick up his shaft slowly, making his hips buck up again and you allowed him to sink into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him and you moaned loudly around him, his fingers moving to circle your entrance before pushing inside again, stroking at your walls and your hips were shaking, you had trouble holding yourself up, knew he was about to make you come undone but you wanted to get him there first, wanted him to feel good too.

“Mmmm, princess…” he moaned needily against your folds, fingers picking up a steady pace, “Your mouth feels like heaven.”

“J-John…” you breathed out shakily, “I want you to come with my baby, I want you to feel good too…”

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Heaven, Hell and You

John Constantine x OFC (Valarie Moore) 

Masterlist  Chapter 1

Warnings- Violence, biblical references (sort of, I think)

Chapter 2

Humming under her breath, Valerie strolled through the little convenience store in the city. She still donned her uniform, light blue scrubs and white shoes, though thankfully, she was only half as tired as usual. Even better was the fact after her shift gone by, Valerie would have the next twenty four hours off and wouldn't have to see the hospital, and by extension, the ICU for the next day or so. It was her one day off for the week and she was determined to make the most of it. The most beginning with unwinding in a warm bath and a glass of wine. 

The shopping basket was hooked in her crooked elbow as she slowly walked to the liquor aisle, slowing down even further as she passed shelves lined with different kinds of pasta on her way. Maybe she could make herself dinner too, instead of ordering takeout. For a minute, Valerie seriously considered it, but then, remembering how long it might take and how much she'd anticipated doing absolutely nothing, she decided that it could be an activity for some other night and that pizza would do just fine. Once again, she began, head down, cast towards the beat up tiled floor, not even noticing that she was walking straight into someone.

"Shit," she swore, coming into contact with a man's chest, consequently stumbling backwards, "Sorry," Valerie huffed a quiet, breathless chuckle upon noticing how strikingly handsome he was; sharp bone structure, pale skin and raven  hair.

"Its my fault," he dismissed, not even bothering with returning her shy smile. Instead, he shoved one hand into the pocket of his black trench and readjusted his hold on his half filled basket, "Sorry about that," he nodded politely, proceeding to furrow his brows in what she perceived to be confusion. "Do I know you?"

Equally confused, Valerie's lips quivered with questions unspoken, and eventually, she found herself tucking a soft brunette lock behind her ear, the little diamond stud on her earlobe twinkling teasingly, “I don’t think so,” she licked her pink, bare lips, “Maybe I just have one of those faces,” Valerie giggled quietly, though, she could tell by the man’s stare that he wasn’t buying it for a second. It was slightly unnerving, the way he was looking at her, like he actually believed that they knew each other.

“Maybe,” he scoffed, apparently only agreeing cause he really couldn’t place her, “Sorry,” he cleared his throat quietly.

He seemed to shake off whatever he was feeling, moving to go around her before she could even dismiss his apology and assure him that it was all good. As Mr. Tall, dark and mysterious, went about his way, Valerie turned around, sparing him one last glance, trying to ignore the disappointment in their conversation being over. She didn’t really get out a lot, discounting work, and her flirting skills were very rusty, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t know a hot guy when she saw one, and she’d just spoken to one, barely. 

When he didn’t look back, either pretending to not see her or just ignoring her completely, Valerie sighed heavily, continuing towards the limited liquor selection without another look back hoping to eventually dust off her disappointment that he hadn’t shown much interest in her.

2 Weeks Later John usually preferred to drink alone, at his loft, sometimes in front of the television, sometimes while he worked. Needless to say, John didn’t ordinarily visit bars and pubs, but alas, Angela had called earlier that day wanting help with a case, and seeing that she was one of his only friends, he didn’t really think it right to refuse her. So there he was, at some no name, low lit place in the city, nursing a glass of whiskey straightening up when he saw her come through the doors of the place. “Hey,” she smiled softly, still in her work clothes, holster peeking out from beneath her blazer, file in hand, “You got started without me,” she nodded to the glass on the table as she sat on the opposing chair. 

“You took too long,” he huffed, bringing the glass to his lips. The air around them stank of cigarettes, which wasn’t exactly ideal considering that, quitting had been hard, and even a year later, the smell alone still tempted him sometimes. Reaching into his pocket, he dug around for the pack of nicotine gum that he had taken to carrying around, shoving a stick into his mouth before talking again. “That the case?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, handing over the manila folder, “Why don’t you look it over while I go get a drink?” 

Wordlessly, John took it, letting it lay open on the table before him, slowly sipping his drink as his weary eyes scanned the pages, looking for anything that would prove inhumanity. There were definitely some things that looked ritualistic, and John could certainly see why Angela had grown some suspicions; the Latin scrawling and the way the bodies had been mutilated pointed to something supernatural. But John could also easily see the human factors, the little details that showed him the killer was actually human; there were slight discrepancies in the incantations printed in blood on the walls and the marks were hardly drawn with fluidity. “Your guy, whoever he is, is human,” John eventually determined, sliding the folder back towards Angela. 

Slumping her shoulders, she took a swing of her beer, running a hand through her hair with a defeated sigh, “Seriously? I just thought….”

“I can see why,” he nodded, “But here,” he hit one of the pictures with the pad of his fingers, “And here,” he tapped another spot, “These translations don’t make sense. It’s definitely Satanic worship, but not by a half breed.”

“Great,” She groaned, “Now its back to the drawing board I guess…” John didn’t really hear the rest of Angela’s sentence, for when he looked up, he was greeted by a familiar face. It was the girl from his dreams again, and of course, the same one he’d met at the convenience store just about two weeks ago.

Since then, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head, his troubling dreams had only grown more  lucid, and once or twice, he’d even found himself unable to determine if he was actually dreaming until he’d wake up, most times with his heart ready to burst from his chest and his mind a mess. At first, he’d tried to convince himself that meeting her had been a dream too, but now, seeing her walking into the bar, flanked by about four other people, John knew that it was real. She, whoever she was, was real.

And she was absolutely stunning in person, far better than what his mind had managed to conjure up. It wasn’t hard to think that she wasn’t real, John never thought that it was possible for a human to look so……..remarkably flawless. Could humans even be made that perfect? Part of him longed to know her; know who she was, what she was like, why she’d dominated his dreams for months before they’d even crossed paths. But another, though weaker, part urged John to keep his distance, to stay away from her; those dreams had to mean something, and above everything, they meant that she was trouble. 

Still, John found himself, sitting in a wooden chair that didn’t really do anything for his back, staring at the girl he’d been losing sleep over as she stood at the bar, getting drinks while her friends claimed a table. She wasn’t wearing scrubs that night, instead, she’d switched them out for a little black dress that ended above her knees, boasting her very nice legs, with capped sleeves and tiny red polka dots about the entire thing. Though his eyes stayed on her, she didn’t look his way for a second, too busy trying to wave over the buzzing bartender. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Angela snapped her fingers in front of John’s face, rousing his attention. Meeting her frown, John finished off his drink, not really able to lie and say he had been, considering she was very likely to question him on it, knowing full and well that he wouldn’t have an answer. “What are you looking at?” Angela turned in her chair, trying to see what, or rather who, he was seeing. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he huffed gruffly, rolling his whiskey orbs and twirling the empty glass in his hands, “I’m gonna get another drink.”

“Feel free to flirt while you’re at it,” she teased lightly, and he largely ignored her, not even turning Angela’s way as he headed towards the bar. 

He’d had every intention of ignoring her, just like he had when she’d turned around to give him one final glance back at the store, but by some unfortunate coincidence, the only empty spot left at the bar just happened to be right next to where she was standing. Slipping in, John maintained his silence, not even looking at the woman as he leaned on the lip of the varnished, wooden bar top, drumming his fingers impatiently. She didn’t seem to notice him at first, though, all she had to do was turn to the side to  before her eyes lit up in recognition, “It’s you,” she gasped, taking a tentative step back.

Clearing his throat quietly, John didn’t bother to force a smile, smiling wasn’t really his thing anyway, “It is,” he nodded, “Funny seeing you here,” even if he had absolutely no interest in smiling with her, that didn’t mean he was particularly opposed to seeing her smile.

But, alas, she didn’t. John couldn’t blame her though, passing jokes weren’t really his area of expertise, and she just scrunched her face, “Is it though? I mean, its downtown L.A, you probably see the same person three times a week, it’s just, you almost knocked me over, so you actually remember.”

Rolling his eyes again, John shook his head, avoiding her pretty dark gaze. She had nice eyes. No, nice might have been an understatement, she had gorgeous eyes, so dark and bottomless, almost completely black. If given the opportunity, John thought that he wouldn't mind getting lost in them. Maybe that was why he’d been avoiding them so much, because he wanted to mind, because getting lost in her eyes meant he’d have to get to know her, and getting to know her meant letting her in. And his life wasn’t one that allowed for that sort of thing. Besides, he didn’t even know her name. 

“You walked into me,” he argued half heartedly, hoping the bartender would make his way to their end soon. The longer he stayed, the more they’d talked, and the more they talked, the more he’d want to know.

“If I remember correctly, I believe you said that it was your fault,” she quipped, a teasing glimmer in her dark pools, and a smirk up turning her lips.

Huffing a chuckle, John sighed in relief when the bartender drew nearer, “I was being polite, don’t make me regret it.”

“What a gentleman,” the woman taunted sarcastically, no malice in her tone, though, it was laced with subtle intrigue, and before John knew it, she was offering her petite hand, “I’m Valerie, Valerie Moore.”

Reluctantly, John  took her hand, enclosing it in his larger, calloused one, “John Constantine.” As hard as he tried, it was difficult to pretend that her touch didn’t have an effect on him. Her, Valerie’s, hands were so soft, and John felt like just the slightest haste could hurt them. He could see why she was in the medical field though, he could tell by the scrubs she’d been wearing, with the hospital’s name etched on the breast pocket, her hands felt healing. It was hard to describe how, but quickly, John had imagined that anyone graced by Valerie’s touch would feel better about anything in seconds, he knew he did.

Scrunching her face, Valerie giggled as she reclaimed her hand, and by just her relaxed demeanor, so different from how flustered she’d been at the store, it was obvious that she’d probably been drinking even before getting to the bar, “Like the Roman Emperor?”

Snorting, John squinted his eyes, “What?” He fought a smile, caught off guard by the fact.

Glancing down at their feet, her pale cheeks took on a rosy hue, accentuating her thick dark lashes, “It’s nothing,” she mumbled, her giddy giggles softer, “My dad’s a history teacher and sometimes I just-”

“Hey,” a matronly woman, no doubt years older than Valerie interrupted, gently laying a ring adorned hand on her girl’s bare shoulder. Maybe she was her mother, though it didn’t quite seem like it, surely though, she was someone that cared enough to come check in when Valerie was caught in conversation with a lanky stranger, “Everything okay hun?” The short, plump women looked between them, and it was only then that John realized just how close they’d been standing.

“Huh?” Valerie cast her wide innocent eyes towards her friend, “Yeah, I’m fine Martha, I was talking John’s ear off over here,” her blush deepened. She was so, painfully innocent John thought, girls in L.A weren’t usually like that, so blushy and reserved. 

Nodding slowly, Martha gave John a cautious once over, as if determining whether or not he was worth her friend’s company or not, “Okay,” her tone held a skepticism and when the bartender placed a some beers near where they were standing, Martha took a few, only leaving behind one for Valerie, “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, but everyone’s right over there. Right Val?”

“Yeah,” she nodded astutely, “I’ll be right over, thanks Martha.” When the older woman was out of earshot, Valerie turned back to him, offering a shy smile and quick blinks. After, she took a quick, tentative sip of her beer, before speaking again, “Sorry about that, Martha’s just…..protective.”

“It’s okay,” John inhaled deeply, vaguely aware of Angela casting him an intrigued stare from their table. He knew she wasn’t jealous or anything of the sort; they’d tried the whole dating thing for a short stint, after he’d started cleaning himself up and she’d had time to properly grieve for her sister, but in the end, had decided that they were much better off as friends. “I should let you get to it,” he got his drink, another finger of whiskey, “Be careful, okay?” John didn’t know why he’d let himself say it, but the urge might have nagged him otherwise. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that Valerie might be in actual danger. 

“Um,” stunned, Valerie straightened her back, swallowing thickly, “Yeah okay. It was nice to meet you John,” and before he could return her words, just after her smile faltered, she was turning on the flat heel of her black ballet pump and hurrying off towards the group she’d arrived with, and unlike that night in the store, she didn’t look back.

It was late when Valerie and her friends from the hospital had finally decided to leave the bar, nearly stumbling out onto the sidewalk. “You sure you’re good to drive Val?” Damien, one of the other Nurse practitioners, probed before he could start walking in the direction of his own car.

“Yeah,” already, she was rummaging through her little purse for her keys. Of course, she wasn’t exactly sober, but Valerie didn’t live too far away from the place they’d chosen, it was just about a fifteen minute to her place. “I got this,” she laughed giddily, trying to suppress a stumble as she moved away from the group. The rest of goodbyes were exchanged with an air of skepticism, and her friends seemed reluctant to let her leave, but Valerie was a bit past noticing their worry, eventually shaking them off, slowly staggering towards her car, parked all the way at the top of the street. 

Everything was fine, at least for a while until the night chill broke through her thin coat and at some point, the path in front of her started to seem bleary. Worse yet, she was pretty sure that there was someone following her, keeping close the shadows, several feet behind her, their identity shrouded. Unnerved, she sped up, clutching her keys tightly, the metal cool in her palms. Heavy, shallow breaths were hard to contain, and that was when it happened, sending the iciest chill up her spine.

“Precious little Valerie shouldn’t be walking alone. Bad things happen when pretty girls walk alone….” The ragged, hoarse voice seemed closer than it ever had, and then, out from the shadows, merely two or three feet in front of her, was a boy, no older than sixteen, his skin hard and yellow, and his eyes unfocused and glassy. 

Half a panicked scream left her quivering lips and Valerie could feel her heart trying to break through her ribs and leap right out of her chest. In an instant the boy…..or whatever was left of his apparently decaying form lunged for her, barely phased when she swung her bag offensively, hitting him square in the jaw. “What the fuck?” She breathed, too frightened to scream as she stumbled, falling back into the damp sidewalk.

Wildly, she kicked him in the face, not caring if her attempts of fighting back were barely buying her time. It couldn’t end that way; she was too young. “Let go of me!” She violently wiggled her leg out of his grasp, scrambling up and trying to run towards her car, her left shoe slipping off in the process, nearly causing her to slip on the slippery concrete. 

For a split second, Valerie thought that she might have escaped her nasty faith, but nothing was as unforgiving as whatever was after her. Enraged, it’s high pitch, demented shrill rang out ear piercingly, “No!” It reached for the back of her dress, “Valerie comes with me!”

It was over. It had to be, the teenager from hell had caught her. He was stronger than her, or so she thought, and he was about to drag her to whatever hole he’d crawled out from. But then unthinkable happened, all in a blur; a familiar form leaping out of alongside the darkened store fronts, formerly protected by the darkness, was now fighting her battle for her. And much more efficiently too. In what seemed to be an instant, though might have just been minutes sped up by her adrenaline fueled mind, John ‘not the Roman emperor’ Constantine, had the kid pinned down,  splashing what Valerie could only presume to be water, or maybe clear liquor on his face. Really, she didn’t know, but she could tell that it had been enough to weaken him enough, so John could subsequently start reading from a little black book. “Close your eyes,” he growled, taking a minute from his words.

“What?” Confused and scared, it was safe to say that Valerie was having a hard time processing even the simplest instructions.

Taking another quick, very reluctant break, John, more annoyed than ever, simply spat, “Your eyes, close them!”

Without any other reasonable explanation besides not wanting him, or anyone else to viciously attack her, Valerie shut her eyes tight. Her other senses kicked in, working in overdrive, trying to piece together what was going on, though all she could comprehend were John’s continued prayers and then, after a few minutes, a body tackling her, once again knocking to the floor again. It wasn’t the boy though, no, he had smelt disgustingly of sulfur, but this person gave off another aroma; soap, cologne and whiskey. Cracking one eye open, Valerie sighed in relief once her suspicions were confirmed; it was John. 

His face hovered less than an inch over hers, lips so close that it would take barely any effort to lean up and kiss him. Their breaths were shared and Valerie could feel John’s hard chest pressing on her breasts, his weight heavy on hers, though, she didn’t think she wanted him to move anyway. His presence and their proximity was so consuming that she hadn’t even noticed the shattered glass surrounding them, pieces caught in her hair, though his larger body shielding her from the worst of it. “You-”

She didn’t get to finish, for the minute that John realized that he was lingering, holding her down for longer than he needed to, he struggled into a standing position, offering his hand to help Valerie do the same. “You need to come with me,” was all he chucked out when they’d just started grasping their bearings, his fingers enclosed around her upper arm, trying to pull her along.

Though, now sobered by her near heart stopping experience, Valerie fought his grip, almost yelping when she saw the boy laying on the ground, looking far different from how he’d been when he attacked her, and the glass from one of the store fronts completely shattered, “What the fuck is going on?” Her hair was wet from some puddle or the other, her clothes were soaked through too and one side of her shoes was still missing. And that was just the physical damage. What was going on in her head was something entirely different. 

“I can explain this when you’re safe,” he urged her along, not even phased by her fighting.

Trying to yank her arm away, Valerie refused to give in so easily, “And I’m safe with you? I barely know you. And we can’t just leave that kid on the sidewalk.”

“He wasn’t the one that almost died back there,” his low, gruff voice dripped with annoyance, and Valerie could tell that he really just wanted her to shut up. But how could she with all that was going on?

“What was that back there? What the hell was wrong with that kid? Are you a priest, why were you saying Saint Michael’s prayer?” The questions just tumbled out of her mouth, right as she’d finally wrenched herself from John’s grip.

Finally, realizing that she was too stubborn for them to make it to his car, John slumped his shoulders, begrudgingly giving in. Why’d he have to want to save her so bad? “You speak Latin?”

“What?” She scoffed, folding her arms, “I don’t, and if you’re not going to answer my questions, then I’m going back to my car.” 

Turning on her heel, Valerie had just started walking again, when John halted her with a series of brief explanations, “That was a possession, and then an exorcism. That kid was possessed and no, I’m not a priest.” When she turned back to him, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, “Now lets try this again, do you speak Latin? And don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t,” now traded places, with Valerie being the annoyed one, she spoke through gritted teeth, “Why’s that so important to you anyway?”

“You ask so many questions,” he rolled his eyes, “And its important because that’s the only way you would have understood a word of that prayer. Unless you’re a really devout Catholic.”

Taken aback, Valerie’s eyes widened, jaw hanging slack, “I’m not,” she gasped, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d set foot in a church or even prayed. “You…..I….you were…...that was Latin?”

“Well it wasn’t exactly English,” John joked, dry and humorless, only frowning when he noticed her trouble, “But you didn’t know that.” All she managed was a slight shake of her head. “Did you understand what he was saying?”

It couldn’t be. “Yeah,” nothing followed the breathy peep, as Valerie was too busy getting lost in a swirling pool of despair. A demon possessed kid knew her name, tried to kidnap her, and now she could speak dead languages? Maybe she should have just stayed home that night. “What’s…..I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” John grabbed her shoulders, probably thinking it would ground her, Valerie knew the little trick well, it was something she did when patients started freaking out, something about having someone’s comforting touch was centering. “But I might be able to help you, I just need you to trust me, okay?”

Trust him? A man she didn’t know? A man who could probably want her dead, just like some apparent demon.

But his eyes were so sincere, and beneath his cynicism and sarcastic quips, it actually seemed like he cared.

It wasn’t something her father would approve of, and Martha would definitely give her a lecture or two on her naivety, but there she was, thinking that maybe John was exactly who he said he was; someone that could help.

“Okay,” Valerie relented, finally letting John urge her to his car, going wherever he’d take her just so she could have some answers.

*****

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

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Protective Service

John Wick x Reader (A/n-how is this like the second or third request that I’ve turned into a long ass series? Why does this keep happening? A/n2- I have zero medical knowledge, so hopefully the stuff I wrote makes at least the tiniest bit of sense.)

Masterlist   Protective Service Masterlist 

Warnings- Angst, the slightest hints of NSFW (teasing)

Chapter 9 Learning To Let Go

It was strange, John thought as he walked along the shore, his feet sinking into the soft sand and the chill of the salty wind breaking through his layers, the moment was unsettlingly familiar. It was the middle of fall and the water had started to grow colder as the evenings progressed, so they hadn't gone in, but still Helen had wanted to visit the beach one last time before winter descended upon New York. They'd spent the afternoon walking right past where the waves met the sand and she'd even collected a few colorful seashells that she thought would make the perfect keepsakes to pepper the shelves in their home. She hadn't gotten much though, and internally, John had noted that he should take her somewhere like Hawaii or Bora Bora on their next vacation, so she could get some nicer ones. 

As he walked, he grew nearer to where Helen stood near his beloved car. She was smiling and for a moment it felt like it had been a while since he'd seen her smile, her beautiful smile. He'd missed it. Though, he was overly aware of the fact that he shouldn't have, considering John had seen it not more than fifteen minutes ago. The entire ordeal felt surreal.

As John approached her, he suddenly felt like something was missing, like he’d gone through the motions before though with one detail absent. “What’s wrong John?” Noticing his bewilderment, Helen broken is dismal thoughts. 

“I….” John’s head snapped up to meet her worried gaze, those honey colored notes in her dark eyes standing out beautifully, “I don’t know,” finally he was standing next to Helen, leaning against the tailgate and instinctively taking his wife into his arms. “Something feels different.”

Helen nuzzled her head into his neck, wrapping her slender arms around his waist, “Well, that’s because everything’s different,” when he looked down at her, more confused than before, Helen knitted her brows, bringing her hand up so fragile fingers would ghost his bearded cheek, “Don’t you remember baby?”

“Hel……” He leaned into her touch, his breath hitching upon finding how cold it was, “I don’t understand,” John swallowed thickly; panic rising up as bile in his throat, “What’s going on?”

“You know John,” abruptly, Helen pulled away, detaching herself from his embrace and starting to walk away, “You know what you have to do.”

Immediately, he started following her, but despite his efforts, John couldn’t get any closer than within a couple feet, “No Helen, I don’t. What’s going on? Where are you going?” They walked and walked, but didn’t seem to be going anywhere, not really; the car never grew further away while the rocky formations in the distance never drew nearer. 

Turning, she smiled wistfully, tilting her head to the side so her brown tresses would sweep over her shoulder, and for some reason unbeknownst to him, her little gesture brought tears to his eyes, “I’m already gone, John.”

And that was when he remembered.

She was already gone. Long gone. Helen, the first woman he’d ever loved, the woman who had brought light to his shadowy depths and stilled the storm that brewed within, was dead. John had watched her wither away; seen smiles through immense pain, seen as she got thinner with each passing day and finally, seen as she’d taken her last breaths as the doctors turned off the machines. 

The memories had a stifled sob parting his lips and tears creeping out the corners of his eyes, “Helen…..” John pleaded, as if saying her name would breath her back to life. But it wouldn’t and John knew that all too well, “I miss you. I need you.”

“I know, but you don’t need me darling,” She kept her distance, and John ached to touch her, just one last time, even if it wouldn’t be near enough, “You’re doing so well; you’ve found happiness again. You just need to slow down and let yourself feel it.”

“What do you mean? With Y/n?” At the mention of her name, Helen’s eyes sparkled knowingly, not really in answer, but more so in permission. “I can’t do that to you Hel, she’s……she’s nothing like you.”

Her eyes were cast out to the boundless blue by then, and Helen seemed to let his words sink in before speaking again, “Isn’t that the best part?” There was now this hollowness in her voice, as if she were far away, “And you aren’t doing anything to me, I’m not here, remember.”

“You’re right in front of me,” his voice broke as he objected, knowing the truth but still having a hard time accepting it, “You right here,” reaching out, John’s eyes went wide as his fingers went right through her. 

Helen’s expression fell at his pained look, though, the only heart that broke was his. “No, I’m not.” Quickly, she licked her lips as they formed a frown, “Not anymore. And you know that. But you’ve found someone that is, so don’t hold yourself back. Fight for her, the way you’ve fought for everything else. Let go, John,” for the first time in a while, she was just a breath away, though, her presence brought no warmth. And that was when he realized that the person that stood before him wasn’t even Helen, not really, it was a dream, a figment his mind had conjured up so he could finally have the closure he needed, hear from the first keeper of his heart that it was okay to give it away again. 

“I can’t,” he whispered tearily, his hands hovered over her shoulders, knowing it would kill him if he tried to touch her again, only to be met with nothingness, “I don’t want to forget.”

Again, she was smiling, her confidence in him as vast as the sea washing their feet, “You won’t. I promise.”

He promised himself.

“You won’t forget. So stay John,” and just like that, as if she’d never been there, Helen, or at least, the image of her, was gone, evaporating before his very eyes.

“Stay John,” another voice pierced his mind, not coming from one place in particular, almost as if he were hearing it from all around, “I can’t lose you, so please stay.”

It had been a long time since Y/n had cried in the presence of another, though, she supposed it didn’t really count if the other person was unconscious. The doctor had told them that John wasn’t quite out of the woods, and he wouldn’t be until he’d woken up. Thankfully, he was still breathing on his own, waving the need for any specialized equipment. He wasn’t comatose either, but would definitely need time to recover from the blood loss. 

All in all, most of it had been favorable news and the greying doctor had assured her that John was otherwise healthy, so there was no need for too much worrying, unless he developed a fever favoring infection or a clot that they hadn’t caught. Still though, Y/n worried anyway and past the hour where dawn awakened the darkened sky, she’d stayed at his bedside, maintaining a tight hold on his hand while her gaze was trained on his insensate from, hyper aware of his soft breaths and the steady rise and fall of his bare chest, a large bandage covering a section of his abdomen. There was an I.V hooked up, running to the hand that laid flat at his side, and the doctor had left a small variety of medicines to be administered whenever John awoke. She’d be there, she’d give them to him.

Winston and Charon had left shortly after the doctor had, encouraging her to come with them so she could get some rest, she’d been awake for nearly twenty uninterrupted hours by then, but Y/n had refused. There wasn’t a chance in hell that she was leaving John’s side. He’d almost lost his life protecting her, the least she could do was lose some sleep over him. 

“Stay John,” the words were barely a whisper, breathed close to his ear and Y/n pressed her head to his, occasionally raising to lay the softest, most feather light of kisses to his forehead, carefully avoiding the bandage over his gash, “I can’t lose you, so please stay.” There was so much that she’d pushed down, ignored, in favor of not coming off as being vulnerable. But from the moment she’d seen him bleeding out on the ground, she’d instantly regretted it. He had to know, John deserved to know.

“Please stay,” Y/n repeated, tears hot on her cheeks and dripping onto John’s hair splayed out like a raven halo on the pristine white pillow. The words thoughtlessly tumbled out of her mouth, “You were right, I am selfish and I am so hurt that I don’t know how to do anything else but hurt other people,” borrowing against his cheek, Y/n sniffled noisily as she continued, “But you were wrong too,” painfully, she reminisced on the night two weeks ago when John accused her of not caring about anyone but herself, “I care about you, so, so much. You’ve made me feel things that I never have before, so how could I not?”

After a moment of hesitation, Y/n turned slightly to pressing a chaste peck to his cheek, feeling John’s scruff tickle her lips. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I want to make this right with you,” Y/n desperately tried to swallow the lump in her throat, barely able to put the thoughts into words, “This- you,” faltering, she corrected herself, “You, in the past few months, have meant more to me than anyone else ever has.”

Y/n wasn’t sure how long she’d spent talking to John, or by extension, how long they’d been there like that; the thick curtains had been pulled shut darkening the room. The heavy ticking of the clock for a long time had been the only sound accompanying her words, each shift signaling that another minute had passed with John’s recovery seeming further out of reach. Her eyes had started to burn while their lids felt heavy, but that didn’t stop Y/n from warding off sleep as she whispered formerly guarded secrets into his ear. It had been hours since they’d gotten to the Continental, but when she said that last thing, it seemed to finally stir something in John’s drifting consciousness, bringing him back to her. “I…..” his voice was raspy and John’s lips barely moved, “I can…..I can hear you.”

Springing into a straightened position, and Y/n lifted one of her hands from his, leaning forward to cup his face, the pad of her thumb grazing his cheek as hope illuminated her eyes. His were still closed, but Y/n could see his lashes fluttering; struggling to open as she could feel his fingers twitching ever so slightly. “John?” Huffing and suppressing a relieved, tender smile, “You can hear me? Do you want me to get the doctor? Do you need anything?”

“Just....” He didn’t seem like he’d completely regained control of himself, but it was enough to prove that John wasn’t too far gone, “Just stay.”

“The doctor said that you need to take these,” Y/n was standing at his bedside, still dressed in what she’d been wearing the day before, the blood stains on her navy colored blouson dress downplayed by the dark shade, shaking some pills out of two different bottles. He’d been awake and coherent for a couple hours by then, and graciously, Y/n had taken the time to help John sit up, stacking some pillows behind him for support.

Intently, he’d watched her, buzzing around the room and trying to stay busy but definitely not wanting to leave. John had heard everything she’d said after his lucid dream had dissipated; everything about how she cared and how much he meant to her, and he found that it was enough to vanquish any anger he’d harbored before then. Still though, he and Y/n hadn’t really spoken since he awoke, John wanted to though. They needed to. “Can we talk?” Even if she was actively avoiding his stare, John tried to angle his head to meet her eyes, wincing at the pain in his abdomen. 

Finally, when she looked at him, it was to offer the medication with one hand and a glass of water with the other, “About?”

“About everything you said,” he explained matter-of-factly, trying to gauge some meaning from her unreadable expression.

For a minute, John was expecting Y/n to deflect brashly; offer some hasty line about how he’d heard wrong or that she was just saying something she didn’t mean. But the words never came, and instead, she just pushed her hands closer, “Take these first and then we’ll talk.”

“Blackmail?”

Quirking the slightest smirk, she rolled her eyes playfully, “Maybe.” Chuckling, John relieved her of both, swallowing the pills down with a few mouthfuls of water, letting Y/n take the glass and replace it on the nightstand before she sat. “Okay,” she sighed, pushing off her shoes with her toes, letting them fall to the floor with a couple of soft thuds as she curled one leg under herself. “I meant every bit of that,” her eyes softened, a genuine affectionate gleam in them, “I do care for you,” Y/n reached over, laying her small hand over one of John’s larger ones, “You……I shouldn’t have made you think otherwise, I’m sorry, and I understand if you don’t feel the same.” She knew it wasn’t her place to expect much, not after the way things had gone between them, with her going hot and cold whenever she felt like it.

Studying her thoughtfully for a minute, John turned his hand over beneath her, the warmth of their palms radiating. “I do feel the same,” he reassured, “I guess you’re not completely to blame; I’ve been so worried that being with someone else would make me lose what I had with my wife. Like I’d be betraying her somehow. But I realize now that I wouldn’t be, that it's time to let her be a memory,” Gently, John gave Y/n’s hand a tug, urging her to come sit on the edge of the bed. When she was finally there, she leaned in, neither of them faltering before sharing a sweet, dare he say innocent, kiss. Like butterfly wings fluttering against each other. It was so untainted and free of any suggestive undertones, the kind of kiss that was meant to say, ‘I choose you.’ “Are you sure this is what you want?” John probed when they broke, his thumb roving the soft skin of Y/n’s knuckles.

Blinking quickly, she pulled away some more, briefly averting her gaze before meeting his eyes again, “I think so.” It was hardly a concrete answer, but coming from Y/n, it meant something, It was far more than indecision, it was the most she could give him; the shreds of herself that she could piece together and offer to him, while he did the same for her. 

“Okay,” he nodded, daring to offer her the first glimmers of a grin, lacing his free hand in her messy tresses so John could pull her in again, “Good,” his lips sealed on hers again, that time deeper and with more passion. 

Y/n scooted closer, her knee sinking into the mattress while she pressed her free hand to his chest; steadying herself. Tilting her head, she granted John greater access, intent on getting even closer until she made an uncalculated move; her thigh rubbing harshly against John’s bandage. He emitted a pained groan, jumping in surprise. “Shit,” she swore under her breath, looking between them to ensure that he wasn’t bleeding, “Maybe this isn’t the best time,” she giggled sheepishly, pulling away from John and moving to stand, undoing the silk knot on her dress as she sashayed away, “We’ll have to take a rain check.”

“Right…..” John was far too busy staring as Y/n undressed to pay attention to the words leaving her lips. Even before their short time together in the kitchen, he’d found himself envisioning the way she’d looked undressed; all supple, unblemished skin, smooth curves that were made to look small in his large hands and perfectly delectable with her pert breasts and perfect ass. That time, the sound contained in his throat wasn’t one of agony, “What are you doing?" He smirked as she tossed her bra to the side,  hooking her thumbs in the waist of her panties next. 

"I'm gonna take a shower," Y/n shrugged nonchalantly, snatching up a towel from nearby as she sauntered towards the bathroom door, throwing him a taunting backwards glance. It was alarmingly clear that the mood had shifted, and John was all for it. 

"Need some help?" He inquired, not even thinking of his injuries.

Wrapping the towel around herself and effectively depriving John of the salacious view, Y/n turned, leaning on the door frame, "As fun as that sounds, you're not supposed to get that wet," she nodded to the bandage on his left side, "And you should get some rest. But I promise, when I'm done, I'll help you clean up real good," and with a wink and a giggle laced with mirth, Y/n spun on her heel, leaving John in heady anticipation.

*****

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