Don’t Say That’s It’s Over I’d Kill To Be Closer: V (Yandere Tom Ludlow x Reader x Yandere John Wick)
Warnings: Yandere, Killing, Black Mail
The tension in the Continental suite was thick enough to cut with a knife. John watched Tom, his eyes like chips of flint, a silent promise of pain etched in their depths. He still hadn’t told Winston about Tom’s involvement, the kidnapping, the lies.
The information was a loaded gun, ready to be fired if Tom dared to step out of line.
"There is another way," Y/N had pleaded, and against his better judgement, he’d listened. He’d seen the desperation in her eyes, the genuine desire to avoid bloodshed.
And…he had to admit, something else resonated within him. A possessive instinct, a need to protect her, to keep her close, a feeling he thought long buried with Helen.
Later that night, after Y/N had fallen asleep, exhausted and emotionally drained, John cornered Tom in the dimly lit living room.
"We need to talk," John said, his voice a low growl.
Tom paled, sweat beading on his forehead. He knew what this was about. He knew he was living on borrowed time.
"Winston can never know about your part in this," John continued, his words like shards of ice. "He finds out you took his daughter, there won’t be a grave deep enough to hide you."
Tom nodded frantically. "I understand. Thank you…for not telling him."
"Gratitude is cheap," John said, stepping closer, invading Tom’s personal space. "You owe me something far more valuable than a thank you."
Tom swallowed hard. "What do you want?"
John paused, his gaze fixed on Tom, calculating, predatory.
He glanced at the closed bedroom door, the image of Y/N sleeping peacefully behind it searing into his mind.
He wanted her. He wanted her innocence, her kindness, her…everything. But he also saw the raw, desperate love in Tom’s eyes, a love that mirrored his own burgeoning obsession.
"We share her," John finally said, the words a barely audible rasp.
Tom recoiled as if struck. "Share her? What are you talking about?"
"You heard me," John said, his voice hardening. "You’re not the only one who cares for her, Ludlow. I won't let you hurt her, and so you will share her with me.
You can protect her and I can teach her. We both know what the world around us demands of those who cant protect themselves."
"This is insane!" Tom sputtered, his voice rising in panic. "She’s not an object to be shared!"
John grabbed Tom by the collar, pulling him close. "She’s precious, Tom, and you're as blind as you are stupid. Don't you realize how dangerous this world is? She needs you to protect her, and she needs you to teach her, and she needs me."
John tightened his grip, his knuckles white. "And don't forget, I could easily tell Winston your involvement the minute he asks. It will be an honor to watch you die."
Tom stared back, his eyes wide with fear and resignation. He knew that John meant every word. He was trapped, caught between a ruthless assassin and a powerful crime lord.
"Fine," Tom croaked, his voice defeated. "We share her. But if you ever hurt her…"
"I won't," John said, releasing Tom. "Neither will you. We're all she has."
The next morning, they prepared to meet Winston. Y/N was nervous, her hands clammy as she adjusted her dress. John watched her, his expression unreadable, while Tom hovered anxiously nearby.
They arrived at Winston's private residence, a luxurious townhouse a few blocks from the Continental. John led the way, his hand resting lightly on the small of Y/N's back, a subtle gesture of possessiveness that Tom couldn't miss.
Winston greeted them warmly, his eyes filled with relief as he embraced his daughter. "Y/N, my darling girl! I'm so glad you're safe."
Y/N hugged him tightly, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm okay, Papa. Thanks to John and Tom."
Winston turned to Tom, extending his hand. "Thank you, Officer Ludlow. You have my gratitude."
Tom shook Winston's hand, his face pale and drawn. He knew he was being scrutinized, his every move analyzed. And what made it worse was that the stupid fucking assassin, the vain of his entire existence, knows the truth and black-mailed him to share his Y/N his light with this monstrous assasin.
"Please, come in," Winston said, leading them into the living room. "Let's have a drink and talk."
As they settled into the comfortable surroundings, John noticed a small, black and green eyed kitten curled up on the hearth.
"Ah, that's Shadow," Winston said, noticing John's gaze. "Y/N has told me she found him abandoned a few weeks ago. She's quite taken with him."
Tom and John wick both knew the truth. Tom had gotten y/n , shadow to make her happy since kidnapping her and killing her friend. And if Y/N had told her father Tom had gotten shadow for her it would only raise more suspicion.
Y/N smiled, picking up Shadow and cradling her in her arms. "She’s such a sweetie."
As Y/N cooed over the kitten, John and Tom exchanged a furtive glance.
The uneasy truce between John and Tom hung in the air like a loaded weapon.
They agreed to share Y/N, a decision born from possessiveness and a desperate need to protect her, but unspoken beneath the surface was the constant threat of betrayal, of one overstepping the boundaries they’d so tentatively established.
The agreement, however, extended beyond merely “sharing” her; it included eliminating any potential threats to her affections.
That agreement was tested sooner than either of them expected.
Weeks turned into months, and Y/N, still blissfully unaware of the dark pact forged in her name, started to find herself inexplicably drawn to John.
He was a man of few words, but his presence was a comforting, solid weight in her life. She admired his quiet strength, the way he seemed to anticipate her needs before she even voiced them.
And, she couldn't deny, she found the ruggedness of his slightly longer facial hair incredibly attractive. It softened his lethal edges, making him seem…more human. Slightly more handsome than Tom, she admitted to herself with a blush.
Tom noticed the shift in her affections. The way her eyes lingered on John a fraction of a second longer than necessary, the subtle smiles she reserved for his quiet observations
A cold dread coiled in his stomach. He was losing her, and the thought was unbearable.
The first incident was subtle. A barista at a coffee shop, a young, eager man with a charming smile, had lingered a little too long when handing Y/N her latte. He’d even drawn a small heart in the foam. Y/N, oblivious, had simply thanked him and moved on.
But unfortunately John and Tom had seen it.
The barista was found dead the next day, an apparent mugging gone wrong. The police report mentioned no witnesses, no leads. Just another statistic in the city’s endless cycle of violence.
Y/N never made the connection. She simply mourned the loss of a friendly face, a small tragedy in a world already full of them.
The incidents escalated. A colleague at Y/N’s work, a man who’d dared to ask her out for drinks, mysteriously transferred to another department.
A neighbor who’d offered to help her carry groceries vanished without a trace. Each time, the reasons were different, the methods varied, but the result was the same: anyone who showed even the slightest romantic interest in Y/N disappeared.
John and Tom operated with a ruthless efficiency, a silent understanding between them.
They were two sides of the same coin, driven by the same obsessive desire. John, the seasoned assassin, provided the skill and precision, while Tom, with his connections within the police force, ensured that no investigations ever went too far.
Y/N, meanwhile, was falling deeper under John’s spell. She found herself seeking his company, drawn to the quiet intensity that simmered beneath his stoic exterior.
She started cooking his favorite meals, leaving little notes for him to find, subconsciously trying to bridge the gap between them.
One evening, as they sat in comfortable silence in her apartment, Y/N decided to be bold.
“John,” she said softly, breaking the quiet. “Can I ask you something?”
He looked up from his book, his eyes meeting hers with an unnerving intensity. “Of course.”
“Why are you so…protective of me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know I was kidnapped, but it feels like you’re always watching out for me, even when there’s no danger.”
John paused, his gaze unwavering. He couldn’t tell her the truth, not yet. He couldn’t reveal the darkness that lurked beneath his surface.
“You’re important to me, Y/N,” he said finally, his voice low and husky. “I care about your safety.”
It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was enough for now. She reached out and took his hand, her fingers interlacing with his.
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes filled with warmth. “That means a lot to me.”
Tom watched them from across the room, his fists clenched at his sides. He hated this, hated the way she looked at John, the way she touched him.
He wanted to rip them apart, to keep her all to himself. But he knew he couldn’t. He was trapped, bound by the agreement he’d made with the devil.
Later that night, after Y/N had gone to bed, Tom confronted John.
“You’re getting too close to her,” he hissed, his voice laced with venom. “You’re starting to make her suspicious.”
John remained impassive, his eyes cold and unyielding. “I am protecting her. As we agreed.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Tom retorted. “You’re trying to steal her from me.”
John chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “She’s not property, Tom. She’s a person. And she’s free to choose who she wants to be with.”
“And you’re manipulating her into choosing you!” Tom accused, his voice rising in anger.
John stepped closer, his face inches from Tom’s. “Be careful, Ludlow. Remember our agreement. I can just as easily take her from you permanently.”
Tom paled, the threat hanging heavy in the air. He knew John was capable of anything, that he wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate him if he became a liability.
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to calm down. “Just…be careful,” he pleaded, his voice barely audible. “Don’t ruin this for us.”
John simply stared at him, his expression unreadable. He turned and walked away, leaving Tom alone with his jealousy and despair.
The tension continued to build, a silent war raging beneath the surface of their shared obsession.
Y/N, oblivious to the danger that surrounded her, continued to fall deeper in love with John, drawn to his strength and his quiet protectiveness.
She didn’t know that her affection was fueling a deadly game, a game where the stakes were life and death.
One day, Y/N decided to surprise John. She knew he had a fondness for rare whiskey, so she went to a specialty liquor store in search of a bottle he might appreciate.
While browsing the shelves, she caught the eye of another customer, a handsome, charismatic man with a charming smile. He struck up a conversation, complimenting her taste in spirits and offering to share his own knowledge of rare whiskeys.
Y/N, flattered by the attention, found herself enjoying the conversation. He was intelligent, engaging, and genuinely interested in her opinions. She even laughed at one of his jokes, a light, carefree sound that she hadn't realized she'd been missing.
Unbeknownst to her, John was watching from across the street. He’d followed her, a habit he'd developed out of a need to ensure her safety, but now it was something else, something more sinister.
He saw the man’s smile, the way he leaned in close, the spark of connection in Y/N’s eyes.
A cold fury washed over him. He felt the possessive rage rise within him, a primal urge to protect what was his.
He knew what he had to do.
Tom, meanwhile, was at the police precinct, sifting through files and dealing with the usual bureaucratic nonsense. He received a text from John, a single word that sent a chill down his spine: “Liquor store.”
He knew what that meant. Another threat, another loose end to tie up. He sighed, a weary resignation settling over him.
He was trapped in this darkness, a prisoner of his own obsession. He could never escape, never be free.
He made a call, pulling a few strings, setting the wheels in motion.
By the time Y/N left the liquor store, the handsome stranger would be gone. Disappeared without a trace, another victim of their twisted love.
Y/N, however, was beginning to sense that something wasn't right. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was a growing unease within her. She felt like she was being watched, like she was living in a bubble, protected from a danger she couldn't comprehend.
She was right, of course. She was surrounded by darkness, a darkness that threatened to consume her. And the two men who claimed to love her were the ones holding her captive. The question was, how long could they keep up the charade? And what would happen when she finally discovered the truth?
