#keanu reeves fanfction

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Don’t Be Over Me

John Wick x Reader (A/n-this should have been the third part of The Arrangement, but I got distracted and ended up writing this)

Warnings- Angst 

Blinking slowly, Y/n hoped the motion would brush the hurt out of her eyes while the long sip of her martini would numb the ache in her heart. Why wasn’t he hurting too? Hadn’t he ever cared, or had they simply been words cast out to reel her in? She wished she knew; Y/n definitely had the courage to kill a man with her bare hands, but approach John after they’d broken up? She could never. 

It happened a month ago, but still, it hurt like hell, and didn’t help that John seemed to have already been over her. Their break-up had been his idea- if it were up to Y/n, they’d still be together, but John had pushed her away, with the flimsy explanation that he wasn’t looking for a commitment. He’d tried once and it hadn’t turned out the way he had expected, and now that John was back in the life, the last thing he wanted was to be attached. Y/n though, Y/n loved John, adored him, messy, bloody past and all; she’d had the same kind, though unlike him, she wanted more than a casual, label-less involvement. But instead of trying with her, John had chosen his own path, walking out of her house without even a second thought.

It killed her, more and more everyday, but Y/n had done her best to put on a brave face. Even if he’d broken her down, shredded her heart, Y/n wasn’t going to let it show. If she did, she’d feel like she’d lost somehow, like it was just a game; John would ruin her and then they’d see who was better at coping. Arguably, he had an advantage. 

In his life, John had done a  lot, more than most, he'd killed, survived, made hard calls, loved and lost. He'd made countless decisions, and had regretted few. At first, breaking up with Y/n was just like that, a decision that he wouldn't regret; he loved her, but she wanted commitment and something that was lasting. But John wasn't ready for that, it had only been a couple years after Helen and he'd only just rediscovered stable ground in the criminal underworld, so naturally, cutting off their relationship seemed like the best way to go. At first, it was okay, she was better off without him anyway. But then it happened, maybe he'd have been okay if he hadn't been there right at that very moment, that movie moment, where one party regretted everything that had led to that very specific moment;

She laughed.

And because the world was a cruel, cold, unforgiving place, it just had to be genuine, full bodied, melodious laughter. She’d thrown her head back, loose tresses grazing the navy silk fabric constituting the back of her blouse and her eyes slipping closed, long, dark lashes fanning the tops of her cheeks. John hadn’t seen Y/n laugh like that since their split, and when it happened, and he realized he wasn’t the one making her rousing that reaction, in fact, he wasn’t even privy to the reason. That was how disconnected he was from her. Really, it should have been okay, it was what John thought he wanted. 

But instead, it hurt, like hell. Like someone had punched him in the gut then drove a knife through his chest.

After that evening, in the Continental's lobby, when she was checking out and he was checking in, every time John saw her, the knife turned; slow enough so he’d be sure to soak up every agonizing ounce of pain. He’d let Y/n go, and now, she was okay without him.

All while he was falling to pieces.

He’d never let her see though. 

That was why he was sat at the bar in the Continental’s lounge, fingers loosely closed around a half-finished, crystal glass of his favorite bourbon, stealing glances at her through the maze of patrons, as Y/n sat in a secluded booth, all by herself with a martini. John knew exactly how that martini was made; gin, always gin, never vodka, top shelf vermouth and a twirl of lemon peel instead of an olive. He recognized the dress she was wearing too; a short, black, velvet strapless one that hugged her curves and rode up her thighs when she sat. Her hair was held up in a high ponytail, strategic strands falling over her face and boasting her diamond earrings, she hardly ever wore her hair like that, but John always thought it looked nice when she did. But that night, Y/n looked better than nice, better than pretty or beautiful. She looked exceptionally stunning. Unattainably gorgeous. Light years better than he deserved. 

And she was perfectly fine.

No quiet tears or sunken eyes. No paled cheeks or quivering lips. No sniffles or fidgety posture. Instead, Y/n was okay. Sipping her drink without a care in the world, leaned back into the leather upholstered cushions with her legs crossed and her stoic gaze cast towards the uncaring sea of people. Occasionally, someone would stop by and she’d trade hushed words with them, sometimes chuckling quietly, other times just offering a soft little quirk of her deep red lips, waving briefly as they’d leave her to return to disturbed solitude. 

It was wrong, and utterly selfish, but John hated seeing Y/n like that. He hated that she was okay while he felt like he was dying inside. At least if she wasn’t, he could somehow summon up the courage to walk up to and admit defeat. Say the words that would ensure things went back to the way they were, “I’m sorry, I made a mistake.” But surely, he couldn’t do that when Y/n didn’t even seem to miss him. As far as he could tell, the only person John had hurt was himself. 

What was her secret for getting over him so quickly? 

Didn’t she ever love him?

When, eventually a man, younger than him but still older than Y/n, one he didn’t know very well, stopped at her table, talking for a bit before sliding in next to her, John’s stolen glances turned into a full on stare. At times, when some unknowing person or the other would temporarily interrupt his sight, John would groan quietly, hoping they’d somehow get the message and move out of his way. He needed to see. She couldn’t be over him that quickly.

But Y/n was.

Because soon chatting turned into low whispers, with heads drawn in, and then, whispers turned into huddling, and huddling turned into his lips on her neck. John had kissed her neck, as she emitted hitched, low breaths and soft pleading moans. His lips had traveled down her neck, slow, with his hot breath fanning her pulse erotically, just the way she liked it. He’d tasted Y/n’s skin, felt its softness and sought haven in her warmth. Her fingers had threaded through his hair and her bare leg, brushing his thigh had awoken something in him that John hadn’t felt in years. It was never just sex, it more than that, all encompassing, protective, soothing, it was love. 

And John had thrown it away, just so he could see her tangled up with someone else in a low lit bar. Her was drink forgotten, her eyes screwed shut in pleasure as Y/n’s new companion let his hand paw at her waist. Maybe to John it looked more provocative than it was. Maybe he was just a jealous, sore loser who couldn’t stand seeing the woman he loved give herself to someone else.

Maybe he was just too weak to have kept her.

But ‘maybe’ didn’t matter. Because it was actually happening, she had actually moved on. And now, she was letting her new friend urge her out of the seat, taking his hand as they weaved through the masses. And for a split second, John thought that their eyes met, just as she was being gently pulled along. There was no emotion in her stare though, it was brief and cold, yet John was anything but grateful when he was wretched out by a hand on his arm and a voice interrupting his thoughts, “Hey you.”

It was Addy, old friend and flame. In another life, she might have been the one that got away, but by then, the title had gone to Y/n. “Hey,” he pretended to clear his throat with purpose, turning to face her.

“On the house,” Addy, winked, topping off John’s drink, watching with dilated pupils as he downed it in one go, setting the glass to the counter with a thump, drowned out by the edgy jazz, “You know,” she dragged her lower lip through her teeth seductively, “My shifts a couple minutes from being over, and it's been a while since we hung out.”

John suppressed a smirk, Addy was always one to get to the point. Unfortunately though, John didn’t think he could bring himself to enjoy the company of another that night, “I think I’m just going to turn in,” he slid off the bar stool, fishing through his pockets for a gold coin, “Goodnight Addy,” nodded, slipping it onto the marble top.

“I told you,” she gleamed, sliding it back towards John, “On the house,” that was when she got closer, leaning over, probably standing on her toes so their faces would be within a hair of each other’s, “And Y/n’s already over you, maybe you should let me help you get over her.”

The smell of her perfume, mixing with the heady fragrance of booze was enticingly intoxicating, and John found himself drawing towards Addy. Their lips brushed, though just barely, not really in a kiss, but with enough contact to ignite the first sparks of lust. Besides, maybe if he kept his eyes close and her mouth shut, he could probably fool himself into thinking it was Y/n. “How long?”

“I can be done now,” she tossed a dish towel to the bar top, walking towards the edge so she could slip out and join him on the other side, “Let’s go,” Addy offered her hand, and when John took it, he kept his lips sealed, knowing that the sooner he sunk into the fantasy, they better.

Nothing. That was what he’d offered in his unaffected gaze when their eyes locked. It was what he’d shown when Y/n started leaving the lounge with a man who’s name she hadn’t even registered. John Wick had acted like Y/n was nothing to him when he took Addy’s hand, ready to leave himself. 

Not that she should have been surprised. 

And the worst part? Y/n still couldn’t even bring herself to hate him. In fact, she was jealous, she wanted him to hurt, for his heart to bleed and match hers. She wanted him to sulk up to her and apologize, just so she could tell him to ‘fuck off,’ only to take him back in the end. She wanted something. Anything but more heartache. But that was all John seemed to give her.

Maybe she was better off without him after all.

As Y/n let her mystery man lead her to the elevator, all she could think of was what John was doing with Addy. Were they just going to drink, she knew they had a history, so maybe they were going to do more. It was a dry, hard pill to swallow; the thought of John with another woman, sharing what they once did. Him, touching Addy the way he touched her, kissing Addy the way he kissed her, making Addy feel the things John had made her feel. It wasn’t fair, Y/n wanted that, she wanted that and more. She wanted to love him. 

The cool reflective doors of the elevator opened with an automatic ding, leaving Y/n and her companion to stagger out and towards his room at the end of the hall. By the time he was shutting the door behind them, there was barely a moment to slap the light switch before he was pawing hungrily at the hem of her dress, carnal desire over taking his being. With her fingers tangled in his short shock of dark hair, Y/n fought to sink into the moment, pressing his face to her chest as he crouched lower. But even as she stumbled backwards into the made bed, letting him nearly fall on top of her, still fighting clumsily to get her dress off, Y/m couldn’t do it. It didn’t feel right.

He, whoever he was, didn’t feel right.

His touch floundered about her body, quite unlike the way John's just glided across her skin. His kisses were far too sloppy, noisily trailing down the column of her neck, and all in all, he was in too much of a hurry. On top of that, it was hard to get out of her head, to accept that for a while, that might be her new reality, hook-ups with random men in an attempt to fill a John shaped void, nights spent with someone who seemed woefully inexperienced in savoring pleasure, or worst yet, with the kind of man that didn’t really care too.  

“Stop,” Y/n managed, suddenly shoving him off, immediately standing and regaining composure. Before the very confused man could protest, or even try to convince Y/n to stay, she was cutting him off, “This isn’t gonna work,” she huffed, readjusting the top of her dress, making sure that everything was in its place, “I should go,” and without another word, she turned on her heel, brushing a couple escaped tears away from her lids. 

Sniffing, Y/n stumbled out of the suit, shutting the door behind her, simultaneously as someone else a few doors down did the same. Her breath shook quietly, and she kept her head down, more interested in getting back to her room than seeing who it was. But apparently, they couldn’t condone her unspoken plea to be left alone, and tentatively, they interrupted her walk back to the elevator,  “Are you okay?”

Gasping quietly, Y/n jumped as she looked up at him. John. Looking quite unlike they way he’s looked back at the bar. His eyes were dimmed and his lips agape with surprise. “I….” Y/n trailed off, unable to offer more. Seeing him like that, with the hurt clearly painted on his rugged, handsomely worn features wasn’t half as satisfying as she’d imagine it would be. All of a sudden, she didn’t want to yell, scream or cause a row. She didn’t want him to break down a cry either. Instead, she wanted to make it better, wanted to hold him, tell him that despite it all, she still loved him with her whole heart. “No,” she finally sighed, her breath hitching in a quiet, broken sob, “I’m not.”

John’s eyes shone with mirrored pain, and he sniffled quietly as he slipped his hands into his pockets and turned on his heel to slowly approach her. For the first time, he seemed to be letting his guard down, showing everything that he’d kept hidden from the world. John wasn’t fine, he wasn’t okay, and certainly wasn’t over Y/n. “Neither am I,” he shook his head, his gaze panning to his feet before once again meeting Y/n’s. “It was a mistake,” they were closer than a foot apart by then, and all Y/n wanted to do was melt into his arms.

“Do you miss me?” Her inquiry was sorrowful, and Y/n’s lips quivered. Inside, she knew that if his response anything opposing a ‘yes’ would completely shatter her.

“Everyday,” John stepped closer, reaching for her waist in a leap of faith He seemed almost surprised when Y/n didn’t recoil or shove him away, the way he thought he deserved, “I was wrong Y/n. I don’t want casual, I’m ready for more. But only if it's with you. Please don’t be over me,” he pleaded with soft urgency

“I’m not, bu I don’t want you to just say that just-”

“This isn’t like that,” John interrupted, his eyes begging her to believe him, “I miss you so much Y/n. And it kills me to think that you could be happy without me, because I don’t remember how to be happy without you. I love you, and I promise, I just need one more chance to prove that this is exactly what I want.”

“Promise?” And John’s answer wasn’t verbal. Instead, he kissed her, deep and true, as if it was the last thing he’d ever do. Their tears mixed and Y/n felt like she was sharing the sheds of her soul with John, like they were pouring themselves into each other with just that one kiss. Shared breaths, salty tears and muffled noises held them together, reminding them both that it was always meant to be like that. 

There was no one else she wanted to kiss, there never would be.

“I promise,” cupping her face, John kept their foreheads close, the tips of their noses touching, just before he went in for another kiss, letting the walls around them fade away as they melded in to each other.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana   @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx​  @danceoftwowolves​

[fics-not-tragedies]

Sharpen your knife

Due to public demand I present you a sequel to “Loaded like a weapon”. Gonna rot in hell for this one, I tell ya! ;)

SUMMARY: Your knowledge of weapons is a huge turn on for John and things gets heated. Words:  1830; Warnings: smut, knife play, dirty talk; 

You could feel the tingling sensation that was growing between your thighs, as you kept observing John. On the edge of your patience you were gazing at Doc seeing how he was stitching the deep wound on Wick’s arm. He was playing with the knife you recommended him earlier, his dark eyes glued to your figure. The kind of his thoughts became certain now and you couldn’t wait for the moment they’ll turn into actions.

Standing up from the leather chair you were comfortably huddled up in you slowly walked to the small liquor bar and poured two glasses of bourbon. Taking them in your hands you walked over to the bruised and bloodied figure sitting at the edge of the bed, Doc still stitching him up and handed him one of the glasses.

“Thank you, darling” he took the drink from your hand and pressed his lips to the edge of the glass, taking a sip from it, his gaze attached to your face studying every slightest change that could appear on it.

He wasn’t really paying attention to the man that was fixing his wounds, John was only focused on you and you only.

And he had the right to, because you were really quite a picture tonight.

Taking a night off from your Sommelier duty and accepting his invitation seemed like the perfect occasion to wear your best dress.

The satin fabric was hugging your body, underlining all of your curves; the deep cleavage was barely holding in your breasts; the hem of it ending at your mid-thigh, showing off all of your assets, but not showing too much. Everything else was left to one’s imagination and you could swear that John’s is working at its highest efficiency.

“Are you done Doc?” you could hear the impatience in his dulcet tone that fueled the question. Doc just looked at him without saying any word and tied a knot at the end of the thread he used to stitch his wound with.

John slid one gold coin into his pocket and after a small bow Doc disappeared from the room leaving you two finally alone. When the doors shut close behind him John placed the knife along with the half filled glass onto the bed next to him and grabbed your hips pulling you closer.

His warm breath danced on your skin, you opened your mouth to say how badly you wanted him now, but his long finger pressed into your lips stopped you from saying a word.

“Just wait now darling, you’ll be screaming my name later” his words made your knees weak and you were more than happy to have his strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

After finishing your own drink you tossed the glass to the side not really caring if it’ll shatter into pieces or it won’t. Cupping his face into your palms you leaned even closer to him, your lips inches away from his, but you couldn’t find the right amount of courage to kiss him first.

He noticed how you hesitated and right after you took another deep breath his mouth smashed into yours leaving you absolutely speechless.

The number of times you dreamt about him was uncertain now, but the thought of him doing things to you haunted you since ages now.

He was the man, the myth, the fucking legend.

John Wick tasted like dried blood, half the glass of bourbon he just had and something minty.

You crawled onto his lap, pressing your thighs firmly onto his, grabbing his glass with liquor right before it spilled into the bedding. Taking a small break you drew back from him, downed the bourbon, dropped the glass onto the floor with a muffled clink and once again centered your attention on him.

“How come I never really noticed you…” he breathes into your lips as his strong hands are caressing your sides. When he sneaks them under the hem of your dress you bite into your own lip to choke down a moan.

“It’s because we always work in the shadows, Mister Wick” looking deeply into his eyes only reassures you about his lustful motives.

With a fast spin now you were the only one straddled between his hips, pinned down to the bed by his body.

“Don’t Mister me, darling, it’s John” you could see how the muscles in his arms tensed when he pinned your wrists above your head with his one hand, while the other one reached for the knife that was still lying on the bed right next to you both.

“Alright John” the grin that curled the corners of his mouth upwards shown you that he was pleased with the way his name rolled off your tongue.

The coldness of the blade pressed to your bare arm caught you off guard and you raised your eyebrow looking at him quite surprised.

“The knife you recommended, I really like it” the tip of the blade slides down your arm and onto your collarbone when he stops it right under the thin strap of your dress.

“Oh, John… I would like to have this dress in one piece by the end of this night, so if you could…” he licked his lips knowing perfectly what you meant and how perfectly you just read right through him, knowing his intentions too well.

“I see darling, it’s a really nice dress” after loosening the grip he had on your wrists he lets go of them completely and with one sudden tug John strips you from your attire. When you’re starting to writhe under him he pins your wrist above your head once again holding them firmly which probably result in a bruise the morning after, “with nothing underneath… you’re such a bad girl, darling” his last words make your whole face turn red and you smile slyly, knowing that it was an excellent idea to wear nothing underneath.

Then, he’s back to teasing you, sliding the knife down your collarbone and onto your sternum. He easily sneaks it between your breasts and onto your belly, where he stops for a moment, circling your bellybutton few times.

The coldness from the knife mixes with the warmth of the kisses he leaves all over your neck, nibbling onto it, biting it harsher from time to time. Oh, how you hope it will few marks on your skin here and there.

Your whole body quiver when he slides the knife to the soft skin on the inside of your thigh. John slides it up and down it carefully observing your responses to all of the teasing.

He waits for your reaction without any movement, still like a hunter waiting for its prey, and when another shiver runs down your spine, the dampness that formed between your legs becomes unbearable, you tilt your head with a loud gasp, it’s the /go/ sign for him.

Firstly he lets go of your hand and you take this opportunity to rake your nails into his bare back, making sure he’ll end up with a set of visible red marks. Then he tosses the knife to the side and he falls onto the floor, the sharp blade stabbing the wooden floor. Once again his lips come crashing down onto yours and for a brief moment you’re focused only on them.

“Oh John…” you moan between the kisses, “please fuck me” there’s nothing more to take off of you, because you’re all naked now, but you can hear him removing his trousers in a rush.

“Oh yes, I will, darling.”

When the last piece of his clothing fall to the floor Wick crawls back atop of you and places himself between your legs. He strokes your sides, moving his large hands upwards, to your breasts, where he stop for a moment, giving them the proper amount of attention they deserve.

Kneading them and pinching your nipples with his fingers he makes you even more impatient for everything that still has yet to come.

“J-John please…” another moan leaves your lips and he just grunts in approval.

“Say how much you want me, darling, please say it” his hand slides from your breasts and onto your abdomen. He sneaks his fingers in between your soaked folds, a groan slips from his mouth when he feels how wet you are.

“J-Jooo- oooohhhh” your voice trails off into a moan when he slides two fingers inside you, “I-I want you so fucking much J-John!” he curls his finger inside you making you moan loudly.

“Fuck, darling, you’re so fucking…” John removes his finger from your entrance, leaving you with nothing but throbbing emptiness, “mmmm, delicious” he licks them clean not moving his gaze from your face.

“Who’s the dirty one, John?” you ask, moving your hand between you two, wrapping your fingers around his hardened cock. You squeezed him more harshly and he growled through his gritted teeth.

John holds you by your hips and enters you easily, receiving a loud moan from you as a response. Your whole body quivers under him when he starts thrusting, hitting the soft bundle of nerves inside you with his every move.

“G-God, you’re s-so tight… s-so wet, for me, darling” he presses himself closer to you, leaving wet kisses all over your neck, nibbling his teeth into it.

Then, he speeds up the peace, fucking you faster and harder.

“F-fuck John, I-I’m close” you dig your nails into his arms, you two panting now, bodies covered in sweat. He drawled out a particularly loud moan which made you even more horny, like you weren’t horny enough.

You wraps your legs around his waist pulling him closer, giving him another, even better, angle to fuck you into the mattress of his bed or rather: fuck you into the oblivion.

The air become thicker, you both heavily panting now. He dug his fingers into your sides and you cupped his face into your hands, kissing him eagerly like you wanted to say to him that you’re on the edge now.

“J-John…” you moan out his name pulling onto his hair with you one hand while the other scratches at the back of his neck.

“D-darling” always a charmer, even where he’s about to cum.

He rests his head in the crook of your neck and with another hard thrusts sends you both spiraling down the sensation lane. Your walls tighten around his cock making him scream out your name, the sound muffled by your skin, which leads to him coming hard inside you, the tight grip he had on your sides probably leaving a harsh bruise tomorrow morning.

“Didn’t know I needed it that much” you breath softly into his ear, still coming from your high.

“Didn’t know I needed you that much” he rests on his elbow, trying not to crush you with his weight, smiling widely, curling a strand of your hair on his finger.

You should recommend him knives way more often.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Fever

Summary: Taking care of his sick girlfriend was something John would do in a heartbeat. Or so he thought. Six days and so much whining from her later, it was time for him to teach her a little lesson.

Pairing: John Wick / F!Reader

Wordcount: 1.459

warnings: smut + spanking

A/N: This is a request I got from a lovely anon last week. I hope you like it. Hello! I was thinking, could you please write something with the reader (sick and acting like a brat) and John Wick? Maybe with some spanking and love scenes. I hope you’re well and I want to thank you for your beautiful works

Masterlist

Taglist:

@ladyreapermc​​/ @theolsdalova​​ / @greenmanalishi​​ / @itsmydreamlifethings​​ / @palaiasaurus64​​ / @celestial-vomit​​ / @penwieldingdreamer​​/ @meetmeinthematinee​​ / @hisdeadwife​​ / @fanficsrusz​​ / @mrrightismrreeves / @its-jb86 / @notyourtypicalrose​ / @keiva1000​ / @eevee-of-rivia​

John was growing more concerned when his girlfriend didn’t reply to his messages for three days. He had been gone for a contract for a couple days and usually he would check in with her daily, getting the sweetest replies from her in return, that made his heart full.

He didn’t think he would ever fall in love again after Helen, but then again he didn’t think he would be back working in his expertise ever again. As soon as he was back in New York he made his way home. Home.. He had loved his house. He really did. But now his home was, where she was. And he could hear her coughing as soon as he opened the door. Shrugging off his jacket, his suitcase forgotten next to the door the made his way towards the noise he suspected coming from the bedroom.

“Princess?” He asked.

“John?” She croaked, only to cough again.

“I think I’m dying.” She whined as John sat down next to her. Her eyes and nose red, a pile of tissues on the floor next to her. 

“Why didn’t you call?” He asked, the back of his hand on her forehead, making her hiss.

“You’re fucking cold.” She whimpered.

“And you’re hot.” He whispered concerned.

“I know. Thank you.” She chuckled, making John smile a little.

“And I didn’t call because I’m the worst when I’m sick. I didn’t wanted you to see me like this.” She whispered.

“Hey I love you. That includes in sickness and in health even if we’re not married.” He leaned into her, kissing her forehead.

“Remember these words when I’m better John.” She whispered.

“What are you doing out of bed?” John asked the next day. He had just left their bedroom to make her a new tea.

“I’m bored. And I’ve been staying in bed for three days now. I wanna do something.” She whined, making John sigh.

“Princess, you have a fever. Please get back to bed.”

“Noooo.” She jumped on the counter, coughing. Rolling his eyes he finished making the tea, letting it sit for a while. Turning around he found her almost asleep.

“Come on. Back to bed.” He held his hand out. She shook her head.

Breathing in deep John stepped closer to her, putting her in his arms as he carried her back to bed. She was asleep before he put her back to bed. 

“Mmhhhh… John?” She hummed. He must have fallen asleep next to her.

“Everything okay?” He blinked a couple times.

“Yeah. Just bored. I can’t watch anymore netflix.”

“Really?” He yawned. Looking at the clock he saw that it was 4am.

“Have you tried sleeping?” He asked making her groan.

“I can’t. My throat hurts like hell.”

“Then take your medicine.” He said softly.

“I’d rather suffer than drink this stuff you brought  from your assassin doctor.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“It did help you last night.” John tried to reason with her. He looked up at her with tired eyes. 

“Please do it for me, I’m tired.” He said.

“Fiiiiine.” She sighed.

John was a patient man. He had to be in his line of work. Sometimes waiting for days to finally get the right shot. But six days with his sick girlfriend drove him to the edge of insanity. It was funny at first, her whining about every little thing. It was a side on her he had never seen. But when she kept nagging him with every single thing he was doing to help her, things gotten slowly nerve wracking.

 He was sitting in the kitchen, enjoying the cup of hot coffee he had made himself after he had woken up. Sitting in his pyjamas at the kitchen table he looked of the window. The first ray of sunlight could be seen far away.

Footsteps behind him made him almost sigh, before he felt two arms coming around his shoulder, crossing on his chest, her head on his shoulder.

“Hey handsome.” She whispered.

“Hey Eris.” He whispered back.

“Uh.. Goddess of strife and discord… Ouch.” She winced. 

“You warned me.” John chuckled. “You feeling better?” He asked, his hands coming down on top of hers.

“Yeah. Not back to full health, but definitely better. Thanks to my sexy Nurse.” She kissed his cheek, slowly getting in his lap. Her head nuzzling into the crook of his neck, enjoying finally being able to actually smell him again. 

“I have to leave tonight for work, but I will be back tomorrow evening.” He whispered, kissing her temple.

“Nooo… You have to stay. I have to make up me being the worst person on the planet to you. I don’t even know why I get that way.” She whined, making John pull his arms around her, pulling her closer towards him.

“I now know that I should stay far away when you get a fever.” He joked, making her slap his chest lightly.

“Heeeey…” She pouted.

“In sickness and in health….” He grinned as she looked up at him.

“We’re not married.” She reminded him.

“Not yet.” He winked before he kissed her.

John’s instructions were clear.

‘I think it’s time you paid for how you treated me these last days Kitten, don’t you think? Wait for me in the kitchen with your little apron on…’ John had texted her, including the time he would be back.

Preparing dinner she danced through the kitchen, cutting the vegetables, taking a sip of wine. She was thankful that John took care of her, and she wanted to make his favorite dinner as a thank you. She didn’t know why she always  became so whiny when she got sick. Looking at the clock she grinned. She heard johns car pull up in the driveway. Getting her robe off she put the casserole in the oven and put her apron on. 

“I can see you got my message…” John said as he entered the kitchen. She was leaning at the kitchen island, a glass of wine in her hand, only the apron on they jokingly bought a couple months ago that looked like the ones housemaids in hotels were wearing. 

“I did.” She smiled. He stepped closer to her, leaning down to kiss her softly, tasting the wine on her lips. His hands coming down with a slap on her naked ass, making her yelp before she laughed. 

“I’m really glad you aren’t sick anymore.” He murmured, his hands wandering lower.

“You really are a brat when you’re sick.” He grinned, kissing her again.

“I warned you…” She pouted, biting her lips as two of his fingers wandered in between her legs. 

“So wet already…” he hummed. 

“You think you deserve to cum tonight?” He asked, bringing a little distance between them, getting his suit jacket off.

“No, Sir.” 

“That’s right.” He folded the jacket over the chair, folding the sleeves of his dress shirt back over his elbow.

“Brats like you deserve a little spanking, don’t you think?” John walked towards her, turning her around and bending her over the kitchen island. 

“Yes, Sir.” She whimpered. John kissed himself up from her lower back to her neck, turning her head towards him to kiss her hard. 

“I’m thinking seven.” He whispered.

“For every day you were acting like a brat. Count.” He said, his hand coming down hard on her ass making her moan.

“One.” She said, his hand massaging her skin, before he slapped her again.

“Two.” She sighed, feeling herself getting wetter, her core tightening.

“You can be such a good girl, my little princess.” He kissed her spine before he slapped her again.

“Three.” She whimpered. 

“I didn’t even know you could be misbehaving like that.” He chuckled, slapping her again

“Four.” She breathed. She leaned her head down on the counter, enjoying the cool surface on her flushed skin. John was massaging her ass, before he slapped her again. Twice, making her loan out loudly.

“Five and six.” She said out of breath. 

“Such a good girl.” He praised her. “Maybe I’ll let you cum after all.” He whispered against her ear, making her whimper. 

“Please, sir.”

“Begging already?” He chuckled, his hand slapping her again, her skin deliciously burning.

“Seven.” She said. Leaning her forehead against the cold counter she grinned, breathing in deep. She was so wet, her arousal was running down her thighs. 

She moaned loudly, surprised when John’s cock filled her completely, pinning her against the counter.

Grunting against her ear, he rolled his hips against her, making her whimper, her hand grabbing the edge of the counter. 

“I love you, princess.” He kissed her temple before he kissed down her spine and slowly began to move.

[fics-not-tragedies]

Loaded like a weapon

I felt like after the “Third Chapter” a John Wick/Keanu Reeves fic blog was a must, so here I am, yet another fic blog, yup. I’m not limiting myself to only John Wick franchise, keep that in mind folks!

So at first I deliver to you a smol one shot, with some weaponry talk and an attempt at flirting! Enjoy my dears ;)

SUMMARY: Being the Sommelier at The Continental was never an easy job, but when John Wick himself arrives at The Armory before his new job, you try your very best to please him with the new weapons. . Words:  918; Warnings: kinda dirty weapon talk;

Soft sound of violin music was filling up the small place. It was lit with only one LED light fixture mounted into the ceiling. He was there all by himself, no one bothering him with small talk, taking the elevator down, to the one and only place in where he could spend his whole day without saying that it was wasted.

The Armory.

He was hoping for a good tasting. The Sommelier always had few aces up his sleeve and Wick loved all of the pieces he showed him every time he used his precious minutes and spend them in the converted basement.

Elevator doors opened with a loud ding and John stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. He knew the way like the back of his hand, he liked to disappear down in there few times a week, in the moments he wasn’t too busy with his jobs. It seemed like it was the only place he could find solace in, the surroundings of walls filled with various types of weapons helped Wick to clear his restless mind and forget about everything bad that happened in the previous months.

The carved wood door was unlocked as always and he simply sauntered into the fresh lighting. It blinded him at first, but when his eyes got used to it he noticed all of the new pieces that were hung on the walls.

“Mister Wick” you spoke in a dulcet tone seeing him enter the room.

John turned around and looked at you surprised. Of course he thought he’d met the usual Sommelier upon arriving here and not a pretty female in heeled boots.

His beard was trimmed neatly, hair slicked backwards, his suit perfect - just as he always was. He scanned your figure up and down; clearing his throat he moved closer towards you.

“The usual Sommelier is having a day off today,” you said thinking that he looked like he needed some sort of explanation for your appearance here, “so I’m at your service Mister Wick” a smile curled the corners of his mouth upwards.

“I’m gonna look at your new additions firstly then… I think I’m gonna need some of your help, dear” John nodded his head and smiled walking to the shelves mounted onto the wall right behind your desk.

“Maybe you’d like a tasting, sir?” you were more than familiar with the phraseology used in here, but the way you accented the word tasting mixed with your silky voice probably made him raise his eyebrow, if not made his thoughts wander off the weapons subject.

Stepping closer to him, the clicking sound of your heeled boots echoing in the room, you took one of the light machine guns from its racks and placed it onto the dark wooden desk of yours.

“It’s one of the finest Belgian ones,” you started, but took a pause to take a deep breath and he turned around to look at you, “M249, improved laser optic, comes either with 150-round belt or 100-round drum, detachable tripod. Recommended in vehicle assaults. We also have a range of new rifles, handguns, anything you like, sir” you accented the last word and you could have sworn that his eyes lighted up.

“How about this one?” he asked showing you an improved version of German combat knife he held in his hand.

“It’s KM2000, new model, freshly sharpened, one of our finest cutlery” you shoot the words out of your mouth on a one breath and you could see how impressed he was.

With eyes wide open and mouth slightly agape he closed the space between you two and sneaked his arm onto your back.

“Are you available tonight for a… personal tasting?” John raised his eyebrow while the tip of the knife slid across your exposed collarbone.

“It depends on what you’d like to taste, Mister Wick” the sudden rush of bravery filled your veins and it felt like this was the perfect moment to tease and flirt with the Baba Yaga himself.

“I want you so bad I can already taste THAT, my darling,” he slid the blade down your neck and into the cleavage of your flimsy shirt, “but I’d like to taste you. Would you like to wait for me in my room at 9pm tonight? Bring your first aid kit and I think that Doc would be needed too. And find us a nice bottle of an ancient bourbon. But for now…” he stepped back and turned around, so he could see the shelves again. Few shivers ran down your spine and you could swear that there was a lake in your panties.

After taking a few guns and rifles, as well as the knife he still held in his hand John placed them in the bag that you prepared on the desk in the meantime, closed the zipper and threw it onto his shoulder.

John eyed you like you were his pray, but before you could mumble an incoherent good luck Mister Wick he was once again in front of you, with his one hand sneaked behind your back, while the other one was firmly gripping the handle on the black bag on his shoulder.

One side of his mouth raised and you could have sworn that your thoughts were both sliding onto the same tracks of naughtiness and hair pulling.

“9pm. Remember,” he breathed into your lips and you had to fight off the urge to kiss him, “I’d like a tasting of you, dear.”

[fics-not-tragedies]

You're lucky that she's here

prologue - one - two - three - four

You can treat this one as a prologue for "Vanishing point”. Also also I’m deeply sorry if I butchered the Italian-speaking parts, if anyone would like to help me with it I’d be very grateful!

Words: 1160; Warnings: spoilers for Chapter Two and some angst; Summary: Juliet interferes when John is on the edge of making a reckless decision.

She saw him reach for his gun, hand disappearing under the table. The grip he had on the handle could probably crush it with ease, but he was still trying to remain calm, even though deep inside he knew this wasn’t a great idea.

There was not much time left to react, it was clear that it was supposed to be quick and well played.

After finishing yet another drink she placed the empty glass onto the edge of the table, fixed the deep neck of her dress and moved towards the two men sitting at both sides of the table.

Stopping by John side she sat on the edge of the table, then slid closer to him, their legs touching.

“Juliet…” he spoke through gritted teeth raising an eyebrow at her. She slid from the edge of the table and onto his lap, placing her feet on both sides of the chair he was seated in, straddling his thighs with hers.

“Romeo, oh Romeo!” she shot her hands upwards, sliding them from her forehead to the back of her head, taking the silver headpin from the neatly formed bun, letting her long hair fall freely past her arms. The main goal of this action was to shield John from D’Antonio and limit his vision, so he’d have a hard time aiming his gun.

“Julietta-” a voice spoke from behind her; there was no need to turn around, she knew exactly who it belonged to.

Tilting her head to the side she finally found the gut to look John in the eye. His own were squinted, she could sense that he was furious at her for what she just did.

Fixing her hair she ran her ivory fingers through the thick locks and leaned closer. Juliet wrapped her one arm around his neck, caressing the back of his neck with her hand while she cupped his face with the other.

The corner of Wick’s mouth twitched, revealing the fact that he still has few major human emotions and isn’t running only on hate, as well as the need of revenge. Her hand was slightly colder than his cheek, the temperature difference caused by the third drink she recently held in her hand, like a courage token she needed too badly.

How come she found those long lost amounts of strength mixed with flooding self esteem that caused her to come between two most deadliest people in this room? Either way she lost her mind or became a part-time Kamikaze.

She moved her face closer to John’s, “I’m your voice of reason now” she breathed against his lips that were almost touching hers, the sound a mere whisper only Wick could hear, “and you know you can’t do it in here” Juliet’s breath clouded his mind, the smell of alcohol she drank made him drunk just like he’d had it and he could feel the slightest movement of her bubbly ass pressed into his lap. And it wasn’t helping.

“You don’t know what this is about” his dulcet tone, just a mere whisper like hers before, only for her to hear was in absolute opposition to the emotions his face was showing. With a frown on his face, eyes slightly hooded it seemed like he wanted to slap her out of his legs and onto the floor, “let me do what I want… what I need to do!” John raised his voice at her which caused a shiver to run down her spine.

Juliet closed her eyes and sighed, “I know about everything John, just like every person in this room” she grazed his lips with hers and he gripped the bare part of her thigh with his free hand, “but you all don’t know… you can’t know that I, in fact, have few unfinished businesses with that Italian mafioso.”

Wick flinched when her hand that was scratching the back of his head moved to his own resting on the heated skin of her leg. She slid her fingers over his, one by one, then gripped his whole hand and threw it away from her.

His both eyebrows raised in bewilderment, the man visibly surprised by her action.

“You can kill him now and get an Excommunicado” Juliet cupped his face in both her hands, pressing their foreheads together, her long fingernails raking the skin on his cheeks, “or WE can let him walk away from here freely, add up our resources one to another and then, when the right time comes” her one hand slid onto John’s throat leaving a set of red marks on its way here and squeezed it roughly, a moan escaped from his parted lips. She choked in a giggle, an evil grin on her dark, rouged lips, “we can uccidere il bastardo, John” she smiled way more softly this time and squeezed his tights with hers.

John let go of the gun he held in his hand making it fall freely to the floor next to his foot. The large hands of his found their way to her waist which he squished few times, then moved downward to her hips and grabbed a handful of them, pulling her closer onto his body. She tightened the grip her slim hand had on his neck and he whimpered, the evil grin back on her lips.

Juliet flicked her tongue across his lower lip, “Is that a yes?” she purred.

“Yes…” he growled through gritted teeth, “I shouldn’t”, she could feel how his wedding ring burned you both right now.

“It’s okay to desire somebody else. It’s not cheating. You’re a widower, John.”

The fire she lit in his eyes became much duller now. He let go of her and clenched his fists, then got up partially throwing her off his lap, but her reactions were still on point and she managed to grab the edge of the table before she could fell to the floor.

Wick leaned over to pick up his gun from the floor, nodded his head to Winston sitting in one of the leather lounge chairs and then just simply disappeared upstairs.

“It’s not pleasant to speak about his dead wife like that, pupa” she turned around to look at D’Antonio who was slowly finishing his meal. Juliet rolled her eyes and took the glass with red wine from his reach in the moment he held his hand out for it. “Always so... fiero, mi amore.”

Taking a sip from his glass she didn’t stopped eyeing him, “Fottiti, figlio di puttana” she spoke in a raised voice and spilled the leftovers from the glass onto his face, throwing the glass at him, then strutted out of the restaurant, the whole place echoing with the sound of her heels clicking on the marble flooring.

“I gatti selvatici sono pericolosi” Santino took the last bite of his meal, cleaned his mouth with the white napkin that rested on his thighs and leaned back into his chair.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Taking Chances 2/4

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- Switching perspectives without clear divisions cause why not)

1 2 3 4 

Warnings- Brief mentions of smut, cheesy romance stuff 

Ayiana and Mark had left when the rain had slowed, and Keanu had insisted that they take the rented car back, after agreeing with Y/n that they could fend for themselves. After the couple had left though, tipsy and all over each other, the rain, as predicted by the forecast, had grown heavy again. Though, as the night waned on, most patrons, drunk and tired, had opted to bare the worst of the storm, leaving the pub scantily populated, with Keanu and his newfound friend cozied in a booth near the back, where the lights were lowest, beer bottles and empty glasses laid out on the table. By then, Y/n’s clothes were mostly dried, as was her hair, now in messy curls framing her gorgeous face. “Wait,” drunkenly, Y/n giggled, leaning in so Keanu could catch a whiff of the alluring remnants of her perfume mixing intoxicatingly with the scent of alcohol, “Say that again.”

“Okay, okay,” her fit of musical giggles were contagious and Keanu could help but grin wider as he realized how absolutely breathtaking Y/n was when she smiled, “I got up to check the air, and just like that this lady rear ends me.”

“And the bike slides out from under you?” She finished, eyes wide and her soiree interrupted by her gaping in shock.

“Basically, yeah,” Keanu nodded, “It was insane!” He laughed a bit louder, not caring how much attention they attracted, only quelling the sound when he finished off his latest drink. They’d had so many by then, that they’d both lost count and Y/n and Keanu could both safely say that they were way past drunk.

“But you were okay right?” And just like that, her glassy eyes were sparkling with genuine worry, and again, Y/n leaned in a tad bit closer. The nearer she drew, the harder it was to ignore how plump her lips were, how much Keanu wanted to kiss her. It was so strange, they didn’t know each other very well, and Keanu knew that Y/n would probably be gone by the next day; but he thought he could listen to her for a lifetime, her laugh, her voice, even her silences were enjoyable. She was so unlike anyone he’d ever met, funny, intelligent, confident, but also so very shy at times, blushing when he least expected and laughing at his worst jokes. It wasn’t forced or fake laughter either, it was real, full bodied and melodious.

“Yeah,” Keanu’s smile softened as he reassured her, still surprised by her unexpected concern, “I was standing, so everything turned out fine.” They broke into a bout of silence, a brief one, which Keanu broke, "So, what brings you to Luxembourg? I mean, you're definitely not from around here."

At that, Y/n blushed, thinking back on how she'd messed up the accents on very simple words earlier, "I'm not," she chortled quietly, they'd just been equipped with fresh drinks, and as she thought of her answer, mind to blurry to work out all the details, she spun the glass in her hand, eyeing the whiskey inside with broken focus, "I'm actually here for…...inspiration. I thought some kind of spontaneous trip would somehow get the creative juices flowing, I'm a writer, or at least, I'm supposed to be," she chuckled dryly, "I used to be a journalist."

"Career change? You didn't like it?" Keanu furrowed his brows, holding his chin in his palm, elbow planted on the table. He wanted to know everything about her, willing to listen to anything she'd say, and based on their interaction, he could tell she felt the same. 

"I did," Y/n took a sip of her drink, staring off to the cleared tables ahead wistfully, "I traveled sometimes, but usually I'd be in Washington, covering press conferences and that kind of stuff. It was pretty boring," frowning, Y/n tried to put her thoughts into words, "I always wanted to be a writer, you know, write a novel or something that people would read even when I'm gone."

Like she had back at the bar, though with the moment feeling far more intimate, Keanu took Y/n's hand, curling his fingers over hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, her skin silky smooth. Her plight resonated with him, the burning desire to leave behind a legacy, make his own unique mark in the world sometimes haunted him too sometimes. "But?"

"But?" Huffing with a faint smile, Y/n shook her head, taking another lengthy sip of her drink, "But I don't know how. I mean, what am I even supposed to write about?"

"Whatever you want," Keanu chuckled with a new enthusiasm. Untangling their hands, Keanu rummaged through his pocket for his wallet, eventually producing enough cash to cover their bill and more, before standing and offering Y/n his hand, "Come on."

Confused by his erratic behavior, Y/n's lips hung agape, finding it hard to formulate any semblance of a sentence, "What're…..what?"

"Trust me?" His plea was half a question for her to actually do it and half an inquisition to gauge how much she actually trusted him.

"Trust you?" Y/n shot back incredulously, though still taking Keanu's hand, their fingers interlacing easily, feeling as if they were made to fit, "I don't even know you!" Already, they were already at the front door, and Keanu was pushing it open, pulling Y/n along as he stepped onto the slippery, wet sidewalk. The sound of the downpour, accompanied by the claps of thunder and occasional burst of lightning welcomed them. Heavy drops hit the street and pavement, splattering upwards, in some areas creating huge puddles. In an instant, even though they were still under the guard of the under-croft, their feet were soaked, water clinging to the hem of Y/n's tea length sundress and soaking her wedged sandals, while Keanu's boots were completely saturated, as were his jeans. "Is your plan to get us sick?"

"No," Keanu flashed her a mischievous grin, the act enough to add a distinct boyishness to his rugged features, despite the evidence of salt in his trimmed beard, "You're here for inspiration, so let's find you some. You know what they say about experience." 

Squaring up to brace the weather, Keanu gave her one final glance to ensure Y/n was ready too, and when her eyes complied, he led her out. In an instant, they were drenched, cold rain water matting hair to their skin and  making their clothes cling to their bodies. Y/n barely had a moment to even be concerned with how wet the contents of her bag would be, or even the fact that she was still holding Keanu's hand when there was someone at home waiting for her. All that mattered then and there was the glee on Keanu's face, how contagious it was and how much she wished they could stay like that forever. "Well where are we going for this experience?"

"This is the experience!" Keanu laughed giddily, stopping when they were stood in the middle of the deserted street to look up at the sky, "You can't tell me you've ever walked through a foreign town, with a complete stranger during a storm in the middle of the night."

It was an oddly specific situation and Y/n without even thinking of it, resigned to sharing in his excitement, "No!" It was a strain for her soft voice to combat the sounds around them, "I can't say I have." They were walking down the cobblestone street, following the gentle slope downward, occasionally stumbling as a result of all the alcohol they'd had. It was cold, though neither of them noticed; the company was warm enough, and as they walked, Y/n looked around, closed stores looking vastly different from what they were like back home. There weren't bright lights embedded in the showcase, meant to display products even during closing, and everything just seemed so beautifully vintage, straight out of a forties film noir. 

"Tell me something about yourself," Keanu broke her thoughts as they grew further and further from the pub.

Briefly, Y/n turned to him, biting her lip at how enthralling he looked like that, so picture perfect, as if a snapshot from a movie had been plucked out of a television and placed right next to her. Keanu was nothing like Noah, he was enigmatic and fascinating because of his unpredictability. He laughed easier and much louder, he was shy and bold at the same time and much to her surprise, they didn't have any sort of awkward "getting to know you" period, they'd just lapsed into familiarity in merely a few minutes. "What do you want to know?"

“Anything,” everything. Keanu grinned broadly, knowing that he’d likely be content with listening to her for the rest of his time, without ever growing tired. “Just say anything,” being with Y/n, staggering through the rain, the sound of her kitten heels on cobblestone muted by the weather and her palm warm and right in his, couldn’t be anything other than the optimum of perfection. He’d never felt that at ease with someone, so ready to bare his soul to a stranger, “And I’ll listen.”

For a brief moment, Y/n glanced at Keanu, her smile faltering, softening, as their eyes met. Part of her knew it was wrong; the way she was feeling. If she were sober, then maybe things might have been different, but Y/n’s speech was slurred and her vision was blurry. Her mind was cloudy too, bombarded only with thoughts of Keanu; how much she was enjoying having his hand in hers, how devilishly handsome he was, how desperately she wanted to kiss him. Abruptly, with a pink hue, hidden by the darkness, spreading on her cheeks, Y/n turned away, “Lets see,” she deliberated, “My favorite book is The Great Gatsby, I moved to Washington for college when I was eighteen,” she thought some more, “And I love eighties music!”

Throwing his head back in wild euphoria, Keanu gazed at her, “Were you even alive in the eighties?”

“Nope!” Y/n giggled, almost tripping, only to be caught by Keanu, who took the initiative to pull her closer. Her laughter sobered, and in the back of her mind, Y/n knew she should pull away, tell Keanu the truth, but his embrace was warmer than anything she’d ever felt, and when she stole another glance at him, only to find him gazing down at her, his expression illuminated by the flickering street lamp, all she could see was a face that seemed strange and oddly familiar simultaneously. Then it hit her, she didn’t want to tell him, Y/n wanted to live like that with him, even if just for the rest of the night. It was out-rightly selfish, and utterly wrong, but she had a feeling that Keanu was worth it. Her heart hadn’t fluttered like that in a long time, and it had been ages since she’d done something so spontaneous. 

Keanu hadn’t noted that he’d been leading Y/n in the direction of the hotel that he’d been staying at until the elegant building came into view, yellow lights glittering through the screen doors leading to individual balconies and the valet’s station vacant, possibly due to the storm. “Where are you staying tonight?” Keanu inquired as they floundered towards the front doors.

“I…..” Wide eyed, Y/n stuttered, “I have no idea,” despite her distress, she was still smiling faintly, I guess I’ll get a room here.” Already, they’d stepped through the door, greeted by the middle aged doorman who warmly welcomed the two with French salutations. Easing her hand from Keanu’s grip, moving some soaked hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, Y/n twisted her body to rummage through the contents of her handbag, searching for her purse, in hopes that the hotel would have an unbooked room.

“Or you could just stay with me,” Keanu blurted, causing Y/n to stare up at him with a perfectly surprised expression, “Come on, it’ll be fun, we can have some more drinks, get to know each other better, it’ll be fun.” Holding his breath, Keanu hung on to the hope that she’d say yes; he really wasn’t ready to lose her company yet.

Internally, Y/n debated Keanu’s offer. It seemed appealing, and she wanted to say yes, to just go for it and see where the night took them. But she was engaged, and maybe going up there with him was taking the fun too far, she already felt like a cheater anyway. Not because of what she’d done exactly, you could hold anyone’s hand and it would mean nothing, no, the guilt had bubbled up like a broil in the pit of her stomach because of how she’d felt. You shouldn’t feel the way she did about Keanu when you had someone waiting for you to come back. To come home.

But Paris wasn’t home, and while she’d tried to make Noah her home, like he’d done with her, Y/n knew she was straying, far, far away from what was ordinarily familiar. She didn’t want familiar that night, she wanted Keanu, the thrill, the loud laughter that she’d easily sunk into, the feeling of getting lost in his whiskey eyes and the insurmountable comfort that came from simply holding his calloused hand. Y/n had the burning urge to know him, learn him, hold on and not let go. The feelings swirling around in her chest weren’t ones that Y/n thought could be built so quickly, yet there they were, and all she could say to his offer was, “Let's do it.”

Stunned by her willingness, Keanu’s features brightened tremendously, and he swore he’d never smiled so hard, “Great!” Taking her hand again, they trotted towards the elevator, leaving the deserted lobby behind, squinting at the bright lights and foggy reflections that dazzled their eyes as they entered the metal contraption. It took a minute or too, his eyes squinted and his stocky fingers fumbling until he found the ‘15’ button, hitting it harder than he should have. As they went up, they found that the air in there was colder than it had been downstairs, and when a shiver ran through Y/n, Keanu, without thinking of it, wiggled his fingers out of hers, proceeding to drape his long arm over her shoulders, reeling her in.

Instinctively, Y/n nuzzled into his side, reveling in the warmth that radiated off his body despite his soaked outfit, swallowing tightly as she tilted her head upwards, only to find that Keanu was studying her, his expression soft, though wanting. No one had ever looked at her like that, not even Noah; like she was everything that mattered, all wrapped up in one person. Like she held the clarity to every unanswerable question in her eyes. Like love could be simply contained in a stare. Love? Love. For probably the first time since they’d sat down in the pub, Y/n stopped smiling, though, it was only because the giddiness had been replaced by something more…….consuming. Thoughts of drinks and a chat late into what remained of the night dispersed, and the lump in her throat only thickened. Tell him, one voice urged, while the more careless one pleaded with her to just let things unfold. One night with a man who’d made her feel like she was the only woman in the world couldn’t be so bad, could it?

As if it were fated, their faces gravitated towards each other, just as Y/n turned slightly in Keanu’s embrace, cocking her head to the side. His lips were barely a hair away from descending upon hers and she could readily smell the alcohol on his breath, mixing with the scent of the rain and a long smoked cigarette. Altogether, it was alluring, and Y/n wondered if the next day she’d be able to go back to a life without it; if she’d be able to leave Keanu behind. She didn’t want to find out. As he came closer, her breath hitched, the soft sound contained in the hollow of her throat, and right as it was about to happen, right as she was about to finally break a sacred promise, the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open, ready to the deposit the pair on the sleepy hallway of the hotel’ fifteenth floor.

“We should…..” Keanu trailed off, not able to quite shake off the feeling that had prompted him to try to initiate a kiss in the elevator, though still leading Y/n towards his room, down the end of the hall. Secretly, he hoped that the moment could be rekindled when they reached their destination, it would be a lie if he’d said he hadn’t wanted to kiss Y/n since the moment they’d met. The thought had bounced around in his head all night, hope building in his chest every time their eyes locked, but the time never seemed as right as it had until they were in the elevator. Clumsily, he shoved his key card into the designated slot, swearing under his breath when he’d gotten it wrong the first two times, the mood only lightened by Y/n’s incessant giggles at his plight from nearby. When Keanu finally got it right, he was the first to enter, though she was close on his heels as he slapped the light switch near the door. 

Still laughing, Y/n barely noticed the kink in the carpet in the threshold, getting caught in her shoe, resulting in her stumbling forward and right into Keanu’s arms. Luckily though, he caught her, his hands planted on her waist, bunching up the fabric of her pleated, dusty rose colored dress, beneath her cropped leather jacket. Even when she was steadied, Keanu’s grip remained, only loosening to slip to her hips. Feeling the air around them grow electric once again, Y/n took the tiniest step forward, only just registering how close they’d already been. Once again, Keanu was staring at her, the way he had been during their moment in the elevator, “He looked at her the way all women wanted to be looked at by a man,” she quoted breathlessly, not quite sure why she’d felt the need to do that, her lips already ghosting Keanu’s.

“What?” Keanu knitted his brows, his arms moving again to circle Y/n’s waist, his tongue hurriedly darting out to moisten his lips as she stood on the tips of her toes to reach him better. 

Raising her hands, Y/n tangled her fingers in his shaggy, wet mane, when the other hand cupped his neck, feeling his scruff tickle her thumb. Barely, she registered the low twinkle of her engagement ring, occasionally made mute by the bursts of lightning that brightened the suite. “Nothing,” Y/n leaned in. Heartbeat to heartbeat, quick breaths in sync and minds only focused on one thing, they finally let it happen. Hot lips, meeting, taking a minute to feel each other out, slow and sweet as Y/n tasted him for the first time, though, growing passionate when their tongues warred. Better judgment was never going to prevail, and when Keanu found the edges of her jacket, pushing it off, she let him, thoughts of anything and everything that was outside of their bubble, fade away.

******

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