Keanu Reeves/ John Wick one shots

Angel

John Constantine x  reader requested by cherishfallenangel (A/n- I know it takes a while before they interact, sorry, couldn't help it.)

Y/n walked quickly, car keys clutched tightly between her fingers, holding her handbag close to her body, quietly cursing herself for agreeing to taking her friend's night shift. At first, she didn't mind, she loved her job at the hospital and she knew that the more she worked, the quicker she'd be able to pay off her grandmother's medical bills. At the thought of her late Grandma Elise, Y/n slowed down a little to take a deep breath; her passing had been so recent, and Y/n had been at work when her grandmother peacefully moved on in her sleep at the mental institute that she'd drive by every day on her way to work. 

Her grandmother had raised her after her parents had tragically died in a car accident when Y/n was just a few moths old, though, the older she got, the faster her mental health deteriorated. When she was a child, she had told Y/n about how seeing the ghosts of those who had passed on but remained earthbound ran in their family. As a child, Y/n wouldn't take it too seriously, though, when Y/n was in her teens, going home to find that her grandmother had wandered of with a 'spirit' became her new normal and eventually, when Y/n turned eighteen, old enough to live on her own,  Grandma Elise admitted herself to a mental hospital, claiming that she could no longer differentiate between the living at the dead. The doctors hadn't believed her when she said she was a medium though, instead, they had diagnosed Elise with schizophrenia and dementia.

Grandma Elise had been admitted ten years ago, and for a long time, Y/n had believed the doctors; as a medical student it had been easier for her to understand that her grandmother was sick and not physic. But recently, Y/n had started believe her again; especially when she started feeling things that weren't really there; cold breezes in enclosed rooms, hearing wailing in the dead of night and smelling strange perfume when there was no one else around. The latest event had been she was on her way out of the ICU after her last rounds of the night. As she had walked to elevator, Y/n could have sworn that the lights flickered and that someone had whispered her name, though when she turned back, there was nothing but empty hallway stretching for more than thirty feet. 

The little incidents had plagued Y/n's life for months, and at first, she thought that she might have inherited her grandmother's mental illness, but after some research and screenings with a couple doctors, it was found that her symptoms didn't match schizophrenia or early onset dementia. One doctor had even told her to lay off the coffee while another blamed paranoia; explaining that she was just worried that she'd end of like her grandmother and it was that fear that had stirred up her unusual symptoms. At first, Y/n had tried to tell herself that it was really the paranoia, but at some point, her mind had turned, convincing her that she was actually feeling the presence of the weary dead, that they lurked in the plane between life and death, something that she could just barely reach. 

An all too familiar chill passed through the hospital's underground parking lot, prompting Y/n to pick up the pace. The place was eerie enough to stir some fright in the pit of her stomach; old florescent tube bulbs had severely dimmed after years in use, casting a pale bluish-greenish tint across the concrete structure and the hollowness allowed for footsteps and the slightest whispers to echo. Somewhere, a distance away, a dripping could be faintly made out, droplets probably falling from a faulty pipe joining an ever existent puddle. 

When Y/n felt another chill, she pulled her cardigan closer to her front, stopping in her tracks with a soft voice whispered from somewhere behind her, "So pretty." A shuddering breath shook her frame and it took a minute before she could keep going. Why'd she park so far away from the elevator? 

Just when the last corner before her car came into sight; just about ten or so cars away, the voice called again, sounding reminiscent of nails dragging along a chalk board, "Wait......pretty. So pretty....wait..."