#・. ✰・.【 close enough to kill】 ― john wick ♡.

[iovesia]

✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍' 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄.

slasher!john wick⠀x⠀fem!reader.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. when you and your friends get stuck in the middle of rural texas, you decide to knock on death's door for help.

—⠀੭୧⠀warnings⠀· ˚ ༘⠀70s & slasher au. horror themes. naive!reader. use of marijuana. size kink. john has a southern accent. age gap (20s/40s). murder. gore. no happy ending. manhandling. 2.5k words.

𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐, 𝒋𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒆 ִֶָ 𓂃 ⊹ i wanted to save this for my upcoming event for october (a themed kinktober el oh el!), but here's just a small au that's been conjuring up in my head for the last few days — hope you enjoy ♡ !!

#. keanu reeves masterlist. | main masterlist. | request rules.

"SHIT!" Your boyfriend, Matt yelps, nearly dropping the blunt from his lips as the sound of metal crashing fills your ears. A thick smoke began rising from the hood of the car, and soon enough the rest of you joined in on Matt’s irate attitude. 

“Babe, pull over!”

Matt lets out a few curse words under his breath, as he follows your instruction and pulls the Chevy van to the side of the road. The five of you scurry out the vehicle, exposing yourselves to the Texan sun and heatwave. 

Matt runs a hand through his feathered black hair while walking over to the front of the old, blue van. Popping the hood, he’s met with another batch of hot smoke, making him exclaim in disgust. 

“Matt, you jerk! You just totaled my car,” Trin scoffs, fanning herself with her hand in a desperate attempt to cool down. The rest of the group, consisting of you, Matt, and your two other friends, stand on the rocky terrain on the side of the road, letting out exasperated groans. 

“Relax, Trin,” Matt sneers defensively, taking another puff of his blunt. He examines the inside of the hood, his eyes squinting as he rubs the back of his neck. “Shit.. I think we popped.. or lost a valve or something.”

“We?” Trin raises her brow. The pair began bickering amongst each other, pointing fingers and only testing your patience. With their yelling and the sun beaming down on your skin, you prayed your migraine would kill you.

“Would you two just stop?” You sigh, pulling your shades over your head. “The car’s busted, doesn’t matter why. What do we do now?”

“Wait for help, I guess,” your friend, Shane shrugs, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend, Mary-Ann. Silence was casted among the group as you and your friends tried to think of a plan. Granted, the group was more Matt’s friends than yours— but what was his was yours, as Matt liked to pretend.

Your eyes trailed the scenery around you. The dead trees bordering the road, only a few desolate run down buildings nearby. The gas station, standing a few hundred feet, was falling apart at the seams. The shattered windows and creaking of the hanging “WE’RE CLOSED” sign was enough to crush your little hope. After a few agonising minutes, your eyes settle on a small house in the distance. You smile as you rise up, pointing to it and alerting the group.

“Guys!” You call out hopefully. “Let’s go ask them, maybe they can call us a toll or something.”

Shane furrows his brows, grimacing as he snicker. “You’re gonna go all the way to that shack? No, let’s wait here. Someone’s gonna come by soon.”

“Oh, c’mon,” your arms flap to your side, your head turns to glance at both ends of the road. “There’s not gonna be anyone driving here for who knows how long— it’s not gonna hurt to ask.” 

“I dunno, girlie,” Mary-Ann purses her glossy lips, her voice monotone with a twinge of her Californian accent laced in. She scratches her bell bottom jean covered leg with her other foot as she turns her head to the house. “Maybe Shane’s right, I’m getting super bad vibes from that house.”

“Everything gives you bad vibes, you hippie,” Trin mocks, wiping the sweat from her forehead, shooting daggers with her eyes at the blonde. The two girls start trading insults, and the familiar ache in your head starts crawling back.

“Ok, well.. you losers can stay here,” Matt finally interjects with useful commentary, handing his half smoked blunt to Trin. “My girl and I will go and actually be useful,” Matt walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as the pair of you walk through the field. 

AS THE TWO OF YOU APPROACHED THE HOUSE, Mary-Ann’s words rang in your ears. The cream coloured paint on the walls was faded or peeling off like a tangerine, the porch was dusty and cluttered with random items. The patio swing squeaked as the wind forced its swing, the copper shade of the metal would make you think this house was abandoned. 

“Maybe blondie back there was right,” Matt jokes, nudging your shoulder playfully, only affirming your thoughts. 

The closer you got, the colder the chills down your spine got. You pause in front of the stairs, leading up to a mesh screen door, barely exposing the inside of the seedy home. Your boyfriend’s hand leaves your arm as he takes initiative, walking up the creaky, old stairs. You cross your arms over your chest, watching as he knocks a couple times.

No answer.

He knocks again.

No answer.

“What now?” You ask with a scrunched face, softly slapping at the mosquito on your arm. Matt glances over to the swinging seats, and notices the half built fence that led somewhere behind the home. “Let’s just go back to the road—”

“Let’s check the backyard,” Matt ignores your comment, jumping down from the porch, the heels of his boots squishing into the damp grass as he heads for the back. You call his name repeatedly and he only waves his hand as his figure disappears behind the fence. 

“Are you kidding me?” You mutter to yourself, as you sit down on the porch stairs, resting your chin on your knees. Minutes that feel like hours go by as you wait for your boyfriend to come back, and he’s still gone. The sun was going to set soon, and you’d rather get back to your friends before it got dark. Worry boils in your chest, and you chew on your nails anxiously waiting.

Suddenly, the mesh door bursts open, slamming against the nearby wall and making you yelp. You jump up, head whipping in the direction of the door and your eyes widen at the sight. An older, brawny man stands in the door frame.

His jeans were splattered with dust and a dark fluid, and his white wife-beater shirt was almost see through from the sweat trailing down his muscles. His coal, black eyes piercing into your doe eyes as he scans your figure, his eyes focused on your exposed legs. You swallow awkwardly, pulling the hem of your red, booty shorts down in an effort to cover more of your skin. You felt naked under his intense stare. 

“Hi!” Your voice cracks as you smile, trying to appear friendly. The man’s face is unreadable as he leans against the door frame, eyeing you carefully. “Um.. sorry to bother you, sir. But, uh, my friends and I need some help. Our car broke down, and I was wondering if I could borrow your landline?” 

The black haired man just stares at you, his stare occasionally darting down to your smooth legs before back to your face. He breathes deeply and tilts his head to the side, gesturing to his home.

“Yeah.. I got a phone you can use,” he spoke curtly with a slight southern drawl, before disappearing inside. You quickly follow the older man, skipping up the stairs as you gently pull the door open. 

Instantly, you’re met with a putrid smell of meat. The humid stench feels worse than the outside, but you try to keep your grimace to yourself as you glance around the room. The entrance was cluttered with old frames, the walls had holes and scratches as if someone had clawed their nails off them. 

“In here,” his baritone voice calls out to you and you follow it, leading yourself into the living room. Equally cluttered, if not more. The shabby, grey walls sucked any life out of the room and you tread cautiously to the older man who was sitting at a large dining room table. 

His calloused hand brushed against yours when he handed you the landline. You smile politely before turning around as you dial the number for an automobile service. You hummed quietly to yourself while the landline rang next to your ear, not even noticing the older man standing right behind you, looking right down on you. 

“Damn,” you hissed before putting the landline back. You turn around and jump again, your face immediately bumping against the man’s torso. “S-Sorry.. Didn’t know you were standing.. so close,” you mumble, your face flushing.

“Jumpy little thing, aren’t you?” The raven haired man wets his lips, picking up a dish towel from the table. “What’s your name, darlin’?” 

You say your name softly, as heat blooms in your face. You can’t help but focus on his figure, the glistening of his biceps and the movement of his large hands as he wipes them with a towel makes your throat go dry. 

“I’m John. You said your friend's car’s stuck somewhere, or what?” His baritone voice snaps you out of your ogling and you nod distractedly.

“Yeah.. yeah— it’s the chevy van out there. Dunno if you can see it,” you turn your head and point through the half broken window to the small car in the distance. John hums.

“Popped a tire?”

“No, it’s the hood. I think we, like.. lost a valve or something,” you say with air quotes, still focused on trying to see your friends.

“Pretty girl like you don’t have a boyfriend that could find it for you?” John teases, raising a brow as he catches a glimpse of the van. Your eyes widen at the compliment, and you clear your throat, a small smile etching onto your face.

“No.. I.. I don’t.”

“Don’t have a boyfriend, or don’t have one that could find it for you?” 

Your eyes meet again and you let out a soft chuckle when John’s brow quirks up, a matching smile on his lips. You scratch the back of your neck and take a breath.

“N-No, I mean I have a boyfriend,” you correct yourself awkwardly, “he just.. can’t find it.” 

“Bet there’s a lotta things that he can’t find,” John snorts under his breath and the innuendo goes straight over your head. 

There’s a painful silence casted upon the room, and you shift your weight to your other leg as you stand there, gazing out the window. You furrow your brows in confusion when you realise you can’t see your friends by the van anymore. 

The older man sighs and glances around the room. “I could take a look at it if you want. Just gotta go get my things,” he gestures behind him with his thumb and quickly turns to walk away. He’s gone before you could say anything, and you’re left alone in the room.

The sun shone through the crack glass of the windows, illuminating the dust particles floating through the air. Inspecting the antique living room, you analyse the framed pictures closer, even daring to pick up one of them. The cobwebs on the glass frame made you cringe as you gently brushed it away.

It was a picture of a family, all men standing in a line, all looked astonishingly similar to John. John stood in the middle, with two younger men on each side. He was holding a large butcher knife, and the entire family wore white aprons, stained with blood. The hanging pig in the background made you queasy. Perhaps it’s his brothers.. or his sons? You thought, slightly intrigued, and disturbed.

A muted cry, abruptly muffled by a low droning noise, broke your thoughts, immediately calling your attention outside the living room. Curious and naive as you were, you set the frame down. Your sandals slap against the wooden floor as you crept out the living room, and towards the door where the sound came from.

The door was unlike the others— covered in a strange fur, and chains on the handle, and slowly squeaked open, almost urging you to investigate further. The droning noise gets louder, and sounds of shackles and screaming fill your ears and strike fear in your heart.

“(Y/N), help!”

Colour drains from your face, and against your better judgement, you slam the mysterious door open at your boyfriend’s desperate call of your name. The door revealed a staircase, with sunlight barely shining on the first step as it leads to darkness.

You tiptoe cautiously down the stairs, the sounds of horror growing louder and louder as it echoes through the dim, damp basement. Water leaks from the pipes above, small sounds of the water pattering only makes the hair on your neck stand up as you edge closer to the sounds. Stopping right in front of another door, a dark liquid begins to pour out from the bottom, and your jaw drops.

“M-Matt?” You call out, lower lip wobbling.

The lively roaring of the chainsaw abruptly stops.

Thud.

A blood curdling scream escapes your lips when the door is slammed open and your boyfriends body slumps to the floor. His feathered black hair, now matteted with his own blood as his baby brown eyes rolled to the back of his head. Matt’s denim jacket was torn to shreds, along with his matching denim jeans— the blood poured endlessly out of his massacred body, washing over the entire floor and staining the bottom of your shoes.

“Oh.. Oh my god!” You shrill, a trembling hand hovering over your mouth and your eyes fill with tears. Horror and nausea wash over you in waves, as bile boils in your throat. You cower backwards, practically tripping over yourself as you hurry to get away from the source of this terror. 

The chainsaw wielding maniac turns to face you, and reveals himself to be one of the boys in the picture. The same sick smile on his face as he pulls the chain of the weapon, the thunderous howl of the chainsaw coming back to life. 

Suddenly a pair of muscular arms wrap around your waist, lifting your frail frame off the ground and you let out a terrified shriek. Kicking and screaming, your feet meet the ground and your back is pressed tightly against a toned chest. Lips brush against your ear, and the eerie words invited goosebumps on your skin.

“It’s awfully rude to snoop, darlin’”

You let out another painful scream as you realise it’s John— John and his deranged family responsible for this massacre of Matt. His calloused hands roam your torso, groping at your skin and holding you firmly against his sweaty chest. 

“Theodore…” John’s voice is low as he scolds his apprentice, who stands in front of you two, his cherub face doused in the blood and tears of your boyfriend, a twisted grin etched on his lips. “You’re scarin’ our guest.”

The younger man just laughs maniacally, dropping his weapon to the ground, and the loud thud of the chainsaw makes you whimper. You squirm helplessly in John’s grip, but your attempts to escape were fruitless. “Let me go! Let me go, you psychos!” Your voice is hoarse and your face flooded with tears.

“Aw, I don’t think so, darlin’,” John’s beard scratches against your cheek, his constricting grip on you nearly crushes your lungs. 

“I think we’re gonna keep you a little longer— show you that real southern hospitality.”

Your screams and cries for help are drowned out by the two madmen’s deranged laughter and taunts.

໒꒰ྀིྀི ੭ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ꒱ྀི੭ — taglist : @desoolate @hamburgerslippers @alwaysinblck @emosludge @nwheregirl @beansricejc @sughcashsaiki @namjoons-crabssss @scream-queen-25 @slutforsoldierboy @hamburgerslippers @redhotelroom. @hqmmett @ilovedilfs4ever

let me know if you wish to be added/removed♡

#dark.josie #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick x you #john wick #slasher!au #texas chainsaw massacre

[eddies-tele]

Get Off On The Pain --- J. W.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

In which, a vampiric John battles the temptation of instinct and mind.

Tw for: guns, blood, deaths, gore, etc.

It was dead silent on the streets for a Friday night. Eerily dead silent. That was, until, a man could be heard screaming in Russian. The rain poured down torrentially, soaking his shirt and revealing the bullet wound in his chest. He clutched onto the bloody hole tightly to stop the bleeding. He quickly turned his head to see if his enemy was still pursuing him.

He stopped and smiled in relief. Nobody in sight...or so he thought. The screech of tires echoed behind him, the jet black car gaining in speed. He quickly began running again. He eventually stopped to catch his breath in an alleyway. He gulped when he saw that this was a dead end. The Mustang roared as it pulled into the entrance of the alleyway.

The driver stepped out, the rain doing practically nothing to him. It only revealed the notorious John Wick. "Please," the man begged, "don't do this! I had no involvement in this; I'm just following orders to get paid!" The driver loaded his handgun. "YOU CAN GET PAID IN HELL!" he screamed. He took his aim, heaved out a deep breath, and watched as the man shook anxiously.

"DON'T SHOOT!" Too late. He pulled the trigger and...BANG! SPLAT! The deed was done. John put the gun back in his pocket. He observed the body with an abnormal fascination. Sure, the powerful figures of the city knew that John was an assassin, but what they didn't know was that he was also a vampire, hellbent on feasting on blood.

He paused a moment to look at the building walls. A grotesque amount of blood had splattered up against them. Who knew that the human body had so much of this nectar in it? Why weren't they willing to share it? No matter. John crouched down and brandished his fangs. He sank them into his deceased foe's neck, feeding on him viciously.

When he was done, he got back up on his feet. "Ecstasy." He commented before getting in his car. He sped off into the night. He suddenly recieved a call on his cellphone. He picked it up. "What?" he hissed. He listened to the person on the other end and said nothing. "Oh I'll meet you there all right." he growled, hanging up.

As he drove, John found it difficult to focus. Something told him that he needed more. More blood. He reminded himself that he was still sorta human and that was enough. His stomach lashed out at him, growling and crying in pain. He slammed on the brakes, arriving at an obscure, out-of-the-way bar. He slinked in practically unnoticed as he went to the board.

It advertised the rewards for killing important people, a doggy daycare, and some other third thing he didn't give a fuck about. "Perfect," he muttered, "It's not the money I need...it's the blood." His fangs began betraying him, protruding from his mouth. He quickly covered his lips with a hand.

The other patrons couldn't know. The other assassins couldn't know. The crime bosses. Nobody. He took a slip of paper from one of the posters. "I'll come for you and your blood." he whispered teasingly. A woman approached him, beginning to flirt with him. He tried to speak to her and dismiss her, but his fangs again betrayed him.

Each time he attempted to speak, he choked on his words and let out soft hisses. "What's wrong, baby boy?" she cooed. "Cat got your tongue?" She yanked him close to her face, purring as she spoke quietly, "I can fix that for you. Anything for the John Wick!" Oblivious to her real plans, he nodded.

She took his hand, but he yanked it away and just followed her instead. He was led to a small room that looked utterly lavish compared to the rest of the bar. She locked the door behind him. "Ready, big boy?" she teased. John wasn't one to blush, but holy shit! Sex did seem quite promising, though he wasn't really sure.

She started to strip off her dress. John frowned. This wasn't Helen. He felt like he'd be backstabbing her if he went through with this. Despite being quite sex deprived, he decided to let her down easy. Just as he got ready to speak, he heard a voice inside his head.

Kill her, it said, drink her blood. Go ahead, you NEED it! You deserve it! BLOOD IS YOUR ONLY FORM OF SUSTENANCE! John was mortified. How could he do such a thing? His stomach growled again. Instinct took over as he took off his blazer and began unbuttoning his shirt. She watched him seductively, shuddering in anticipation.

She was going to fuck Wick. She'd have more than just bragging rights --- she'd gain a reputation as the best hooker in all of New York. He finally stripped the entirety of his suit, save for his pants and shoes. He kicked off the flats and climbed into the surprisingly soft bed with her. He crawled over and hovered over her.

"I apologize in advance." he whispered. Before she could ask what he was sorry for, he pinned her down. She let out a chuckle. "I've been through rougher." she challenged. Oh, we'll show you rough! He took a deep breath and tilted his head, mentally apologizing to Helen for what he was about to do.

He put his lips to her neck and hissed. He ghosted little kisses on her skin, which she surprisingly bought. John's mouth seemed to have a mind of its own as he sunk the deadly teeth into her neck. She screamed loudly when she pieced together that John wasn't giving her a hickey --- he was hurting her! Purposely! This frustrated the assassin, so he cupped his hand over her mouth.

She tried to break free. He just dug his claws into her flesh and held her closer to him. The blood was being pumped faster due to her panic, which made her taste even better. His eyes went to a full black as he continued his quest for satisfaction. After a few minutes, she went still. She was dead.

Fucking finally! God, that was torture! He snapped out of it, eyes returning to normal. He cried out when he saw the lifeless body he held. He was only planning on taking some of her blood, not most of it! "No! NO!" he cried. But it tasted so good, so sweet, so fucking smooth. "No, no it didn't!" he argued aloud.

You know that you loved the taste. You can't deny your true self. Why you chose this as your passion. You're not addicted to vengeance --- you're addicted to what sustains you. Stop drinking it, and we both die! If anyone tried to help us, they'd discover us! Then everyone would want to kill Johnathan Wick. Everyone. Just to rid the world of a dying race. So stop fighting me, John, start embracing yourself. Your true heritage. Your true self.

John held onto his head in pain. He knew he was human. He had to be. "No, no, no! I didn't WANT to kill her! She was innocent! That man was involved in the killing of what I had left of Helen! He was NOT innocent!" he argued, "Please, I don't want to live like this!" Then die. He put his clothes back on and rushed to his car. He drove away, desperately trying to go home.

Lord have mercy on my soul.

#Spotify #john wick #john wick chapters 1 and 2 #Jamie's lil stories #oneshots