#ask lila

Absolutely! I’ve also been going through it lately so I feel you (process of moving combined with that mid summer sadness is getting to me lol). I hope you feel better soon and that life goes easier on you in the coming days 🎀 💕

It started unseen. Biting the inside of your cheek, worrying the soft tissues there as your brow furrows in deep thought. Slowly coming out in ways you couldn’t help, your lips bitten and chapped, your legs bouncing and unable to stay still. Stress was slowly starting to take over, and your will to keep going, keep pushing, getting every set goal done, taking on every set back in silence, was adding up.

It wasn’t until tonight that you realize just how bad it had gotten. You’re curled up on John’s couch, enjoying a Friday night together, the TV softly playing one of your favorite movies. You wouldn’t really know however, the world blurring and becoming shapeless as your mind works overtime trying to figure out just how you’re going to make everything work. You hate that your habit of picking at your nails has returned, but you simply can’t help yourself, there was something about that little pain, the control of uncontrollable urges, of picking out anything unsmooth, unsightly. You hardly notice that you’ve got a hang nail between your teeth, ready to pull and feel that small piece of skin rip away, when you feel John’s warm hand on yours.

“What’s the matter, darling?” His deep voice is soft, tender, a hint of concern in his brown eyes when you finally meet them.

You let him gently lower your hand from your mouth to your lap, and his hand engulfs yours in a caring warmness. You freeze for a moment, not even sure where to start, not even sure how to explain just what’s been going on with you since you been hiding it for so long. You know John would never judge you, but you’ve never been one to let the hurt show, to admit how much you’ve been struggling. You look into that kind, handsome face of his, at the soft crows feet starting to form at the corners of his eyes, and it just happens.

You burst into tears.

They stream out of you, and you hate yourself for crying, your face becoming hot. John softly coos, taking his strong arms around you and gently shifting you into his lap.

“It’s alright, baby, come here…” he whispers softly into your hair as he holds you in his lap, kissing the top of your head.

He does press. Doesn’t pry for more information, just lets you cry into his arms, gently rocking in a small rhythm.

Your heart pours out, right there in his living room, and he doesn’t mind one bit. He takes all of you in and gives back only his love and warmth, engulfing your stress and sadness in a blanket of it.

And it helps. It helps just to have him there for you, just to have him opening up space for you to empty yourself into him. And when the tears slow, and you’re only quiet sniffles, he whispers in your ear.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

You nod, your sharp inhales slowing to just mildly shaky breaths, the weight on your chest feeling tender and softer. He slowly brings you up with him from the couch, easily carrying your weight, something that always surprised you was just how strong he really was, and that someone as powerful as him could be as gentle.

His feet pad to the bathroom, and he sets you on the counter by the sink, your feet dangling off. You cover your face, embarrassed by the tears and snot that have accumulated by your outburst, but he simply runs a towel under warm water from the tap, then moves your hand to wipe your face up. He carefully removes everything, most of your make up as well except for a small smudge of stubborn mascara and eyeliner. You look up at him, your fingers playing with one another in your lap and your face bare.

He leans down and kisses your forehead, and you lean into him. He holds you there for a moment, only leaving when you’re ready to let go, and putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Tell me as much or as little as you desire,” he looks deeply into your eyes as he speaks. “If you don’t want to talk about it at all, that’s okay. Just know that I am here for all your needs.”

And you know he means it. John has been nothing but the most devoted partner to you, taking careful of anything you’ve ever brought to him. You nod softly, a shaky sigh as you decide just how much you want to get into it.

You begin.

And he listens. Really listens. He doesn’t offer advice, he doesn’t interrupt, he just lets you speak, only ever giving soft affirming grunts to let you know he’s following. And when the tears start up again, he gently wipes them away and keeps on listening.

And when you finally trail off to silence, everything you need off your chest, he scoops you up again, pulling you to his chest and taking you to his bed.

He sits down with you in front of him, gently pulling your shirt over your head and sweeping your hair from your back. His warm, calloused hands touch your smooth skin, and you shiver from the feeling. His thumbs prop against your shoulders, creating controlled circles that target the tense muscles there, and you practically have to hold back a moan of relief.

It just feels so good. Those tightened muscles that have been holding up the world for so long being coaxed into tenderness, into letting go. You close your eyes and let John work his magic on you, his hands seeming to know every muscle back there and just how to tame them. By the end of it your head is bobbing, exhausted and having trouble keeping itself up as sleep and relaxation washes over you. John kisses a million kisses across your shoulder blades, and rocks you back until he’s laying flat with you on his chest.

He pulls the blanket up, making sure you’re totally cocooned with him before gently playing with your hair until your senses let go and drift into sleep.

And how many forms/versions of your sona do you have currently? Any random fun facts? 👀

OH I actually drew a little something about that recently XD

I would just like to tell you how incredible your writing is.

I've just finished Brighter than bright and Im so obssesed with it, it's incredible.

Plase never abond it, it's the best omegaverse story I ever read. Can't wait for another chapter, I hope you don't let us wait too long with this cliffhanger 😄 I need to know what is in the Harry' letter ❤️

Thank you so much! ☺️ I saw your comments!!

I have absolutely no intention of abandoning BTB. I adore this fic. There was a very long hiatus before this last chapter came out, because I was putting so much pressure on myself and couldn’t focus enough to let the words flow. I’ve managed to get through it with a lot of effort and by changing my relationship with writing, but still I don’t know when next chapter will come. I’m trying to follow inspiration and there’s so much to write!!!

But! Next chapter will come. And Harry’s reply will be in it. And I’ll even give you a little extra info here: next chapter will be 100% epistolary, told entirely through letters sent to and from Harry and Sev!! I’m very excited to get started! But also letters are HARD! 🤣

Omg yesss!!! I love this idea <33 he would do so good with a skater gf who just gets him ❤️

CW: Fluff, meeting the right one, skater shenanigans.

July has been brutal. The heat beats down on the cement, and after only a few goes on the half-pipe, Ted collapses onto the edge of the curb, wiping sweat from under his damp bangs.

“I think I see snow cones in our future, Bill.” He says in disbelief of the heat, shaking his head and staring out into nothingness, too hot to think.

“I like the sound of that, Ted.” Bill bounces down next to him, resting his head on the lip of his skateboard. “Can’t believe it’s already so hot, like, it’s barely noon, man!”

Ted grunts a response, looking to the sun and blinking away its bright light. He’s just about to propose heading somewhere that features some glorious A/C when something spikes his interest.

He sees you, skating with your eyebrows furrowed, lost in thought as you make moves he hasn’t even gotten down look effortless. Your hair whips behind you, a backwards blue ball cap keeping it in line just enough as you continue to practice your tricks. Ted is utterly awestruck, his mouth hanging up as he breathes a “Whoa…”.

Bill catches Ted’s line of sight as his friend doesn’t respond to him, and when he sees just what Ted is looking at he chuckles and claps a hand on his shoulder.

“My man Ted…” he exclaims, forcing Ted’s eyes away from you. “You should totally go talk to her, bro, she’s got some awesome steez.”

Ted looks down at his ratty skater shoes and picks at a loose thread.

“Nah…” he says, shrugging and shaking his head, not feeling at all confident enough to talk to someone as bodacious as you.

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳I love this idea nonnie ! I have decided to do a list of phrases I've found + what scenario John would say them to you, disclaimer: I do not speak Russian, but I've tried to go beyond using just Google translate and the like, but there still may be discrepancies, please forgive ʚ♥︎ɞ

Tags/CW: rope bunny, Dom!JW, Sub!Reader, bratty!reader, bdsm-esque, reader tries to Dom JW, reader on top, teasing, denial, dirty talk.

Зайка моя ("My bunny"): John calls you this the most, he loves the idea of you being his little bunny, and he also likes that he can get away with calling you something so cute because you have no idea at first what he's saying. Light teasing from you when you find out he's been calling you his "bunny" for so long:

"Oh, so if I'm your little bunny, does that make you the big bad wolf?" You say with a smile, teasing John for his pet name for you.

"Oh yes, yes it does..." John plays along, moving close enough to you that he grab you from behind and pull you close.

"Don't forget that wolves bite, Зайка моя..." His teeth nibble at your neck before dragging you, who's giggling from all the attention, off to the bedroom.

мое солнышко ("My sunshine"): John calls you this after sex the most, or only in the most tender of cases. He really does believe you are his own personal ball of sun. He hasn't felt this happy in so long, and upon meeting you, he knows that you are the light in his life. John doesn't mind if you know it, either. He calls you his sun in English as well, but when you two are cuddled up, the night settling in, John will sleepily call you "мое солнышко".

моя принцесса ("My princess"): John uses this one almost exclusively when you're being a brat, typically in bed. He calls you this half sarcastically, half because he really will do anything to please you.

"What are you going to do, make me, John?" You tease him when he tries to command you. You really shouldn't have done that.

"Careful, моя принцесса, you know what happens when you tease me." Johns voice is trying to be gruff, but he also loves seeing you have fun. Only after a few more bratty comments does he finally show his princess how she really needs to be treated.

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳I loved this idea so much! I hope you like it, feel free to ask for any expanding drabbles of these two <3

Jealous!John Wick x Naive!Reader

Tags: john is jealous, reader is naive about his jealousies, gardener def has a crush but would rather quit than act on it with john always around, age gap mention, lower class reader in a rich world, possessive john, protective john, primal john

Summer was dying, August dragging out the heat of July, telling the world it was unready to leave just yet. And you, well, you were enjoying the last of the long days, the time when sunset went on for ages, and burned in the sky a blazing orange over your backyard. You always loved the sun, how it turned everything golden each evening, and how it kissed your skin with its heat. 

You were barely breaking a sweat, laying out by the pool while the gardener worked on the bushes. He was young. More around your age than your husband John. Which was nice sometimes, when you got to converse with him, both because of his age, and like you he wasn't from a wealthy background. It kept you a bit more grounded while the life of luxury continued on around you, it was nice to confide in him. 

Unfortunately, what you never noticed was the gardeners wandering eyes. Even now, as you lay out in your bikini, eyes closed and skin happy to drink up the suns rays, he can't help but to watch you. If you asked the gardener about it, he would never admit to his little crush on you. As much as that would be unprofessional of him, he also has no interest in messing with his employer, John Wick. There were rumors, you know, about John coming home, bruised and bloody, a painting of struggle on his skin, the smell of gunpowder on his suit. The gardner has even caught a glimpse before, and watched as you greet your husband as a source of safety and comfort. No one asked why it was that John came home in such a state, but everyone knew, and because of that, the gardener would never pursue you. He would remain a healthy confidant, easing your worries in the world of the rich, and letting you keep in touch with the world outside the private neighborhood. 

John's breath is visible in the cold of the night, the stink of the city rising from the gutters in the alley. You take a deep drag from the cigarette he passed you earlier. It fills your lungs with welcomed smog, and you exhale before your lungs can protest the chemicals being held for too long. Neither of you speak as the smoke dances in the air between you two. You don't need to. This little routine of yours has been suiting you both quite nicely without many words so far.

You look out into the starless night, tapping the cigarette off to the side before passing it back to John without looking. You think about how different things are for people like you. How much your feet ache despite leaning against the brick wall for support. Your ruined toes from the strict ballet routines, the callouses on your hands matching the blisters on blisters.

You don't want to think about what they teach John. You know he's due for his first true mission soon, you're both beginning to be old enough to truly start being of value to the 'family's' business.

You don't notice John's sharp eyes caressing your features. You only glance over when your thoughts drift away, and the craving for another hit of the cigarette hits. You catch his stare, and he doesn't look away, he isn't one to be embarrassed about something like that. You wonder for a moment how long he's been eyeing you, but ignore it, and reach a hand out towards that little fire John holds in his hand between you. He pulls it back, not cruely, but as if he must.

This surprises you, but you don't know what to say. John speaks for the first time tonight.

"I'm headed off tomorrow night." he says it plainly, no deeper explaining, but you know what this means. He is going out to kill for the first time, for real, not the sparing he does with the other boys. No, he will use the sharpened skills he's learned, or he won't be back. You say nothing, but you give a small, short nod of understanding, and one of your hands reaches to smooth the white, fluffy tuelle of your ballet dress. John continues.

"I want to try something with you, if you'll let me..." He isn't nervous when he speaks. He says everything so plainly, but right now you know whatever he is suggesting is important to him, so you turn towards him fully. You look deep into those brown eyes, practically as black as the night sky above right now, only a small overhead yellowing light on the side of the building casting a glow on both of you. He sees your willingness to listen, and the space between the two of you closes so slowly, you hardly notice John is even moving towards you. He is truly, stealthy.

"Stop me if this displeases you..." His voice has softened, just barely, the words ebbing upwards with the frost of his breath. You know he means it when he says that, you trust that he would never do something to displease you to begin with, but your heart picks up as he moves closer. He brings that glowing ember back to his lips and takes a deep drag, tendrils of smoke escaping his mouth as he pulls the cigarette away at last.

He closes the gap between you until he is leaning down, his height having always been there, suddenly more noticeable. John hasn't released the smoke from his lungs, not yet. He's savoring the moment. His hand is warm when it touches your waist, bringing you in until your lips are brushing his, both of you open and waiting for the other. You give a small movement towards him for the first time since this started, and that's all he needs.

John presses lips into yours with a hunger, a need barely kept at bay, still restrained. He is well trained, indeed. He kisses you, moving gently in sync with your lips, and you respond perfectly in time. You are also trained, synchronicity coming easy to a ballerina like you.

John's lungs must be aching by now, but the kiss goes on, one of his large hands reaching up to place a thumb against the base of your neck, feeling you there, and then wrapping so gently to crook you deeper into him. You feel a moan bubble up from the gesture, and feel as if you are but a swan in wolf's teeth. John bites your lower lip gently, pulling it down and asking you to open. You oblige, and he softly breathes the smoke he has been holding into your awaiting lungs.

You take it hungrily, softly sucking in to meet what has been contained inside him. You feel as if more than just smoke has entered your body. You can feel a piece of John, as if he is giving you some small part of him. As if to say, 'if I don't make it back, remember this part of me, the part that didn't kill. The part that breathed life into another. Carry it with you.' Your cheeks burn in the cold as your lungs fill to the brim and the rest over flows and descends upwards into the night.

John seals the breath he's given you with a final, passionate kiss. It's as if he's stamped your petal like lips with a flame that wasn't supposed to grow there. When his lips pull away, leaving heavy breaths and even heavier lids looking, searching deeply into one another, you can't help but feel like John has lit a coalfire in the pit of your stomach. From the look he's giving you, you can tell he feels the same, maybe even better knowing what he's done to you, how he's tainted you before he must take his leave.

"John..." His name drifts from your lips onto his, and he stops you with the brush of another kiss.

"We should go back inside..." He hasn't taken his eyes off you, you're still so close it hurts. You know he's right, but this moment is intimacy that neither of you have every been allowed here, in this place that teaches only death. You search him, a hand you didn't notice is gripping his shirt. You hold that fabric tightly, and your knuckles shake when your mind thinks to let go.

"I know..." John says simply, and you know he does. "Meet me here again, in a days time, as we usually do."

"But..." You begin, not able to bring yourself to the 'what if' of no one being here when you come.

"I would not allow myself to let you down. You know that." And you do. John will do everything in his power to make sure your little ritual out here is unbroken. You know he will come back. He must. Your grip loosens, and you two part. You both go back to your comfortable silence, and head inside.

The heat of John's lips and hand around your throat hold you through out that night. You dream of a wolf who takes you gently in it's teeth. It doesn't let go.