John Wick X Reader - Blog Posts

𝙿𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜

John Wick x child!fem! Reader.

Series Trigger Warnings: Child abuse, abandonment issues, self harm, self hatred, depression, religious trauma, murder, gore,

Chapter One

The scent of iron and copper stained the area around him as he lay in the ground. His dark irises looked up at the barrel of the gun in front of his head. Corpses laid around his as he breathed softly. 

With every dawn a pupillus is brought home

The girl that stood before him was dressed in an all black suit, perfectly tailored to her. Her hair sleeked back in a ponytail and braided. Her eyes cold and hard, like a killers should be. She couldn’t have been older than ten.

Her face still held that childlike glow that most kids her age had. Her Glock was firmly between his eyes. The man she’d shot before, laid dead at her feet. 

“Ты Баба Яга?” The girl asked, her voice that of a pure innocent child. (Are you Baba Yaga?)

With every dusk a pupillus is dead. 

John stared at her and he slowly stood up. Her gun trailed him as he towered over her. 

“Yeah.” The girl hummed softly. In a swift movement her gun was in a holster at her side. She let out a small sigh.

“Good, I’m your pupillus.” John froze. A pupillus? A child bought, taken, given and molded into a killer. Only the High Table could grant a person an pupillus. Never in all his life would he think that the High Table would gift him one. 

With every star a pupillus conquerors

John nodded softly as he moved a corpse out of her way. She moved next to him in a flash, almost inhumanly fast. 

“You got a name kid?” John pondered softly as he began to walk away from the bloody scene. The girl trailed behind him, he couldn’t even hear her steps.

“No.”

John rubbed his face as he opened the door to his car for her. She slide into the car quickly and sat quietly. As John shut the car door he groaned softly. He didn’t ask for this, he didn’t want to have to take care of a kid. But the High Table saw him fit he supposed.

“I like Y/n, think it’s pretty.” John mumbled as they drove towards the Continental. The girl didn’t answer, only furrowed her brow. 

“Yes it is pretty.” The girl agreed monotoned. As John drove he would glance at her. She stared out at the city with a small spark in her eyes, liked she’d never seen so many lights before. The girl didn’t speak, she didn’t move, to John it didn’t even look like she was breathing.

She looked almost alien to him. Not that she looked strange but she acted strange. She wasn’t like any child John had ever know, and he supposed she wasn’t. Pupillus were meant to hide in plain sight, she certainly looked like a child….. just not her eyes. 

With every comet a pupillus falls

John didn’t know it then but this girl would change his entire life. He would name her, he would love her, he would care for her, and she in turn…. Would destroy for him.

…………………..

The wind howled as rain poured down onto Helen’s coffin. Many red roses fell on top of the lowered coffin. Held in a delicate hand was a white rose. 

The white rose fell on top of the coffin. Y/n’s e/c eyes were glassed over but no tears fell. Her eyes red and her cheeks flushed. Her body was drown in rain, she hoped that the rain would wash her sorrow away.

Never had she felt like this, this loss, this pain. She didn’t like it. She’d lost many people, many of her fellow pupillus, she mourned, she pleaded with god to send them back. 

But this pain was different, this pain grew and grew, not into hatred like it normally would, it just grew more painful. Her black dress was soaked, clinging to her like a second skin. 

A large hand landed on her shoulder, gently guiding her away from the coffin. A shadow fell over her, he held his umbrella over her. His dark eyes full of sadness as he looked all away. 

“Y/n?” John whispered, his forming towering over the seventeen year old. 

“Все хорошее умрет.” Y/n mumbled hopelessly (All good things will die). John froze as he lead her away. Her face was masked by with a blank look. The rain poured down into the pair as they walked together in sync. 

Y/n’s irises were planted on the ground as John walked her over to their car. John looked up and saw and old friend of his. He bent down planting kiss her cheek. Y/n didn’t react, she didn’t move, hell John couldn’t even tell if she was breathing. 

John signed softly as he closed her door and walked over to Marcus. He didn’t know how to help her, she’d never been so closed off with him. As a pupillus emotions other than rage weren’t allowed.

Their pain was molded to hate, their love turned to despair, their happiness vanished and they became pupillus. A child made to kill and only to kill. John could remember all the times that Y/n held not mercy for her opponents. Her ruthlessness knew no bounds, her mind didn’t know what to do now.

.…………………

John hit the ground with a thud. He coughed up blood as he pushed himself up. He looked back at the man he was trying to kill. 

His eyes were wide, his body covered in his own and others blood. This job would pay a million so John was determined to kill him. 

The man charged at him, John slammed into the wall, it cracked under him. The man’s hand went around his throat lifting him off his feet.

“Not so dangerous now are you. Baba Yaga?” He taunted. John couldn’t move, he was pinned. The air began to leave his lungs, he didn’t stop trying to get the man off himself. 

Suddenly he was ripped away, John fell right to the ground. The man staggered to his feet from the ground. His eyes stared right into the cold ones of Y/n as she stood in front of John. 

“I told you to stay in the car.” John rasped. Y/n shrugged annoyed as she charged at him. The man was fast enough to catch her. Her legs wrapped around his, pulling the larger man to the ground.

“Вам нужна была помощь.” Y/n voiced getting in the man’s chest. (You needed help.)

Y/n’s smaller first pummeled into the man face over and over. John looked away coughing softly. 

“English, Y/n.” He muttered as he stood. The man struggled under Y/n, but her fist kept going. Her knuckles began to bleed and bruise. John walked over to her with a limp. 

“Enough Y/n.” She didn’t stop. “Y/n enough.” 

By the time John caught her fist the man was dead. John sighed uneasily as he pulled Y/n away. Blood was splattered over her face, hair, clothes and her hands. The man’s face was punched in, it looked unnatural. 

“I told you to wait in the car.” She didn’t answer. She wouldn’t look at him, he could tell she was upset. 

“Y/n? Won’t you look at me?” John asked gently. He knelt down to her height, for a ten year old she was rather short. He took the side of her bloody face and guided her to look at him. Her eyes didn’t move from the floor.

It had been months of back and forth with Y/n. She didn’t have any moral compass. She didn’t know what to do in any situation that wasn’t murder.

“Умная девушка? Please look at me.” John smile softly as she brought her e/c eyes to his. (Smart girl.)

“I don’t understand why you’re always so upset when I help you.” She mumbled bitterly. John sighed softly, truthfully he didn’t either. In the Ruska Roma he would do the same. Watching Y/n kill didn’t seem right to John. 

In the few months that Y/n was under his care he’d grown to love her. The way her eyes would light up when she’d see something new. Slowly he guided her away from the blood scene, her head was cast down. 

By the time they entered the car Y/n hadn’t looked at him once. As they left John glanced over at her, she was curled up into herself. A permanent glare plastered on her innocent face. Her eyes held anything but innocence.

Y/n grabbed the rager that John held out to her with a small sigh. She wiped the blood from her hands before throwing the rag in the glove box. John roll his eyes and  pull the rag back out, wiping her face.

“You’re driving!” Y/n protested. John rolled his eyes as he finished.

“You’re covered in blood.” He mumbled as they continued to sit in silence. She turned from him, not caring for all the blood. As they pulled up to the Continental, Y/n hopped out before John even cut the gas. 

“Shit! Y/n!” John yelled but Y/n just pulled her back out for the trunk and walked into the building. She wouldn’t go much further than the front entrance, still believing she’d be punished. No matter how much John would try and convince Y/n she wouldn’t be punished for simply needed space.

As John handed his keys to the man standing there, grabbed his bag and followed after her. Y/n stood near the entrance to the pupils training arena. A boy around her age with tanned skin, black curls, and brown eyes talked softly to her.

Her eyes shoot in to John’s and sighed softly as she made her way back over to him. The boy she was with glared sharply at him. 

“Am I permitted to go to the training arena?” John nodded his head softly as he checked the pair in. John took her bag and pulled out her training clothes out.

“Here.” Y/n knew that meant her wanted her to change. She nodded softly as left to changed. The boy with her watched every move like a hawk, John didn’t like that. 

Y/n was by his side before he could blink, she was changed, hair pulled out of her face and still covered in blood. John sighed taking her dirty clothes and cleaned the side of her face.

Y/n jerked away slightly, not used to such dangerous hands being so kind to her. The boy shot off the wall, hatred in his eyes. John wanted to laugh at him. 

“Here it’s your room key. When will you be back?” Y/n shrugged.

“Later.”

“Eat someone before you get back please.” She nodded at his request and turned away. The boy pulled her close the second her got and pull her into the training arena.

“How goes re-raising a child?” John sent a glare to Winston as he approached him.

“I’m not re-raising her.” Winston raised his brow. 

“So you’re not trying to pull her away from her nature?”

“Being a killing machine is not her nature.” Winston smirked softly as he nodded his head. John glared and turned away. 

………………………

Y/n stared out the window as people avoided her like a plague. Maybe she was a plague, maybe she this was all her fault. Maybe if she hadn’t stayed Helen  would still be here. Maybe this was gods way of punishing her for disobeying her life’s purpose.

Thinking she could have a mundane life after all the bloodshed she’d caused. The pain, the heartache she must have caused her people. A hand on her shoulder pulled her away. John stood over her holding her shoulder.

“He’s here to see you.” Y/n’s blank eyes held his gaze for a while before pulling away. He stood away from very one and sent her a small smile.

“Atlas.”

“Ares.”

“Y/n.” 

He smirked softly at her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her close.

“You’re my Ares.”

John Wick Fic??

Anyone want a platonic! John wick fix x fem! Reader. Reader is a child assassin gifted to John by the high table before he retired. Any takers?

Here’s a sneak peek 👀

𝙿𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜

The scent of iron and copper stained the area around him as he lay in the ground. His dark irises looked up at the barrel of the gun in front of his head. Corpses laid around his as he breathed softly.

With every dawn a pupillus is brought home

The girl that stood before him was dressed in an all black suit, perfectly tailored to her. Her hair sleeked back in a ponytail and braided. Her eyes cold and hard, like a killers should be. She couldn’t have been older than ten.

Her face still held that childlike glow that most kids her age had. Her Glock was firmly between his eyes. The man she’d shot before, laid dead at her feet.

“Ты Баба Яга?” The girl asked, her voice that of a pure innocent child. (Are you Baba Yaga?)

With every dusk a pupillus is dead. 

John stared at her and he slowly stood up. Her gun trailed him as he towered over her.

“Yeah.” The girl hummed softly. In a swift movement her gun was in a holster at her side. She let out a small sigh.

“Good, I’m your pupillus.” John froze. A pupillus? A child bought, taken, given and molded into a killer. Only the High Table could grant a person an pupillus. Never in all his life would he think that the High Table would gift him one.

With every star a pupillus conquerors

John nodded softly as he moved a corpse out of her way. She moved next to him in a flash, almost inhumanly fast.

“You got a name kid?” John pondered softly as he began to walk away from the bloody scene. The girl trailed behind him, he couldn’t even hear her steps.

“No.”

John rubbed his face as he opened the door to his car for her. She slide into the car quickly and sat quietly. As John shut the car door he groaned softly. He didn’t ask for this, he didn’t want to have to take care of a kid. But the High Table saw him fit he supposed.

“I like Y/n, think it’s pretty.” John mumbled as they drove towards the Continental. The girl didn’t answer, only furrowed her brow.

“Yes it is pretty.” The girl agreed monotoned. As John drove he would glance at her. She stared out at the city with a small spark in her eyes, liked she’d never seen so many lights before. The girl didn’t speak, she didn’t move, to John it didn’t even look like she was breathing.

She looked almost alien to him. Not that she looked strange but she acted strange. She wasn’t like any child John had ever know, and he supposed she wasn’t. Pupillus were meant to hide in plain sight, she certainly looked like a child….. just not her eyes.

With every comet a pupillus falls

John didn’t know it then but this girl would change his entire life. He would name her, he would love her, he would care for her, and she in turn…. Would destroy for him.

These are the vows of a pupillus

To serve, to die, to kill for our masters for we are pupillus

how I read the most toe-curling, spine-shattering, nerve-wrecking, nastiest smut ever written in this god forsaken app

flight risk

john wick x fem reader, minors mdni

synopsis: life was perfect, despite what your parents wished for you, you had all you could possibly want. surely your husband wont wake you up at 2am and drag you across the world, uprooting everything you've ever known.

authours note: this is the first thing i've ever written AHHH AHHH AHH, thank you for reading though!! oh my goshhh, i'm so nervous.

cw: drugging, guns, suspected kidnapping, morally grey but also not john, john just wants his wife guys </3

it had been exactly 3 years since you had uprooted your life after meeting john. which sounds like a major sacrifice, because well sure, thats how your parents viewed it. the confused pinching of your mother's eyebrows as she fiddled with her wedding ring told you that. 

you didn't need to be a genius to recognise that perhaps your father didnt trust john, slipping pepper spray into your purse and a pocket knife onto your keychain as you said goodbye in the airport. maybe it was an act of rebellion moving away, far away. sure you were naive, but in a specific way. you had seen shit, a lot of shit, but you made an active choice every day: see the good. is it indescribably cliche? absolutely! but hope kept you going. 

so when you stumbled upon a particular six-foot man with a limp, you tilted your head both in awe and intrigue. your first dates were awkward, almost forced. he was incredibly vague about every little detail in his life and so naturally, you chalked that up to ‘he must not like me.’ when you asked about his family, he responded that he didn't speak to them. when you asked about his job, you got the typical ‘im a contractor’ response. what the fuck is a contractor? what are you like a spy? psh. 

but he was sweet, a gentleman too. paranoid and perhaps vigilant to a fault, but you didn't ask questions. he was just being overprotective, which was nice in your eyes. you fell deeply in love with him, getting married 2 years after meeting him. you pieced together his career. he would call you a pacifist when you commented on the number of guns he seemed to own casually. which sure, wasn’t exactly a lie. but he didn't view the world as black and white, and therefore neither should you, you decided very quickly. 

it was your anniversary so you decided to set up a beautiful, intimate dinner at home. he arrived and you pushed him away to put on some slacks, even though it was just the two of you. he would chuff, kiss your temple, and oblige. so there you sat, serving dinner, walking over to his side of the table to pour him merlot when you accidentally bumped the bottle with your hip, knocking it off the table. you let out a yelp, frozen as you watched him catch it effortlessly without breaking eye contact with you. there were 2 things to note about his actions. 

1. you were unquestionably sure that this must be the most attractive thing anyone has ever done, fuck.

2. the speed of his reflexes did not match the job description or the skillset that belongs to a ‘contractor’

the dinner continued, albeit awkward because you had questions. and to your surprise, he wasn't so vague. now he was being blunt to a fault. which you suppose married couples are. 

“im a hitman” he stabbed a shrimp sitting on top of the pile of pasta, bringing it to his mouth with a sense of casualness that was unnerving. haha. funny.

so naturally, you giggled as he chewed. 

“a hitman? john that’s- ridiculous. can you be serious for a moment? i love your jokes, but this is our anniversary dinner.” you laughed softly into your wine glass, tilting your head and propping your elbow on the table to rest your cheek on (an action that would have caused your mother to hit the back of your hand with her fork due to the improper manners you were displaying).

“not a joke baby” he hummed almost with a solemn look in his eye. the reality of the situation hit you like a freight train when he reached out to hold your hand over the table, drawing soft, soothing circles on the back of it. not a joke. it wasn’t a joke. 

he slept on the couch that night. maybe it was harsh, but no- no, he deserved that. you married a man, a hitman. who lied about his entire career and kept guns under floorboards, you didn't even know could be kicked up. alas, trust was built back up. he reassured you he only killed dangerous people who did bad things. life wasn't so black and white, you realised once again. it took a while, but you fell back to the stage where you trusted him again. 

he came home late some nights, and left to go overseas every now and then for a week or so. but he would come back with little souvenirs for you: wine from rome, chocolate from switzerland, and jewellery from india. he made money that you could only dream about, but who can put a price on taking someone's life? 

you adored him though. maybe it was fucked up, maybe you were sick and twisted. but your husband would kill for you without hesitation, and you couldnt lie to yourself and say that fact didnt turn you on at least a little bit. 

you both moved to tokyo, right in the middle of the city about a month after this dinner. relocation seemed to be a common theme, but new cities and new languages were always exciting for you. and he assured you all was well, but you had your suspicions. maybe he feared someone he pissed off would come find you, even the score and put a bounty over your pretty head. 

you enforced the fact that if you were going to sleep with guns in the house, they all needed to be locked away in gun safes. there needed to be rules, and trustworthiness for this to work. john lied, he kept a hidden one in his bedside table, and another under your bed alongside the others in the safe. 

the rain pelted, it was a sunday night, well morning technically you realised. pretty much all of japan had been hit with a tropical storm, which meant that sleepless nights in your shared highrise apartment came with built in ‘white noise’ sounds from the thunder outside. though this night, you slept soundly. it was about 1am when you faintly heard footsteps, belonging to john you assumed. 

talking in incoherent sleep babble, you didnt open your eyes, you just mumbled ‘john..?’ muffled by your pillow. whoever it was stopped what they were doing and walked over. 

“mm, hi baby. it’s me. go back to sleep mkay? it’s late.” a silky smooth voice surrounded you in a blanket of warmth and you mumbled an i love you and drifted back off.

unaware. he waited until you were out cold before he started haphazardly shoving belongings of yours into a suitcase. he proceeded to zip it up and prop the suitcase against the wall next to his own. on top of his suitcase laid two drivers liscences, marked with photos of the two of you, but with different names, addresses, birthdays. identities. you stirred in your sleep as a calloused palm gently cupped your cheek, whispering your name. your eyes blinked open sleepily. 

“hi my sleepy girl” he looked down at you, perched on the side of your bed with a soft smile, still dressed. which was odd, why wasnt he in his usual sleeping sweatpants? you sleepily blinked up at him, looking over to your digital clock. 1:47am. 

“mhmhphmh?…” you mumbled out, an unspoken question as if to say come to bed, what are you doing? your eyes fluttered closed again, snuggling back down.

“honey, need you to wake up for me, kay? im sorry, i know, i know..” he gently rubbed your back, biting down on his cheek until he drew blood, loathing himself for what he was about to put you through. his sweet, sweet girl.

“eyes open, open them up for me.” he gently tapped your cheek and begrudgingly open them, sitting up looking unimpressed. 

“it’s 2am i wanna-” you yawned softly, covering your mouth. “wanna sleep john, just come to bed.” your eyes shifted around the room landing on the packed suitcases. suddenly sleep no longer felt like a priority. 

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, tucking your hair behind your ears as you looked to him for answers wordlessly. he sighed softly, a deep one that he had clearly been holding in for a moment or two. he gently stood up, holding out a hand for you to take and pulling you up, walking you to the walk-in robe. 

“i know you’re confused, and probably scared. you trust me, don't you baby?” he looked down at you as he rummaged through clothes that belonged to you. he settled on a sweater and jeans. 

“trust you..? of course i do.. i just don't, john.. what's happening?” you asked, almost with hurt in your voice, a conviction of what was about to occur. 

he gently walked back over, mumbling a quiet ‘arms up’ as he slipped your nightgown off, putting a sweater on you, and passing you jeans to put on. 

“it’s just a precaution baby. don't want to scare you, okay? we’re just going on a trip for a little bit, okay?” he said calmly as you zipped up your jeans and slipped on converse. you swallowed thickly as he put a baseball cap on your head.

“an incognito sort of trip?” you said with disappointment, realising all too well what this trip meant. “where? you know i panic when i fly, i can't get on a plane, john.” he kissed your forehead softly, washing away any doubt. 

“there are eyes and ears everywhere, baby, we have to be quiet about this, just have some faith in me, i wouldn't purposefully put you in a dangerous situation, yeah?” he walked out, sliding her fraudulent id into her pocket. it was like a whole double life he lived. she had no idea he had these made, did he have fake passports too? emergency cash stashed somewhere? you followed him like a lost dog as he picked up your suitcases. 

“we aren't coming back here, are we? to this apartment?” you asked in a flat tone, one of hurt and despair. he gently shook his head, giving you a solemn smile. you disappeared into the kitchen, dumping everything in the fridge into the bin. 

“honey? what are you doing? baby- i.. we have to go, now.” you looked up at him, rushing to shove perishable items into the bin. 

“i dont want to leave the apartment in disarray, someone will realise and come and look, and i dont want the owners of the building stumbling across rotten food. its the polite thing to do.” you said, mindlessly stepping into action. 

“very polite. clever girl. we dont have time for that though, baby. come on. need you to listen to me and focus.” he held out a hand which you begrudgingly took. 

you suddenly yanked away, running back into your closet, to which he sighed pinching his nose. 

“baby. i won't tell you again,” he said, short. pointedly. you reassured you would only be a minute, running back out with your wedding garter in hand, shoving it into your suitcase. wedding albums, dresses, suits would all sit here and haunt your empty apartment. 

you needed to take something with you. he noticed what you did and looked down at you like you had punched him in the gut, pained, hurt. he gently cupped the back of your head, bringing you forward to press a pained kiss to your forehead as he cursed under his breath.

“im so sorry sweet girl. i just need to keep you safe, you understand that, don't you?” you gave him a brief nod, a faraway look in your eyes. 

he led you out into the hallway, and then ushered you into the elevator as he took a phone call. he spoke in tongues, well, that was what it sounded like to you. codewords and a whole different language. something eastern european you guessed. you perched a seat on top of your suitcase, as he spoke. he looked over to you and continued speaking, reaching down to pick up his suitcase, phone held to his ear by his shoulder as he pulled your suitcase along with you sitting on top of it. he hung up the phone. down another hallway. suddenly you were in the apartment building's garage. he led you to a black suv. you looked at him confused. 

“you drive an aston martin, and this isnt my kia sport.” 

“no, it isn't your kia sport. get in, honey, come on.” you sighed, still so many unanswered questions as he ushered you in, doing up your seatbelt. 

“i didn't know you were bilingual,” you said, looking down at your converse, chewing your lip. you didn't know what to say, too many things to ask. 

“what language was that?” 

“ukranian.” he spoke softly, driving you through the city, he passed you a bottle of water that was in the car. “drink, you need to stay hydrated.” 

“john im scared, i don't understand any of this and i need to call my dad, tell him what's happe-” he gave you a knowing look. sighing softly, holding out his hand for your phone. 

your furrowed your eyebrows, but trusted him. passing him the phone. he dropped it onto the floor of his car and stomped the foot that wasnt on the accelerator onto your phone, smashing it. you let out a loud gasp of shock, confusion. he had a stone cold face as he rolled down the window and threw it out of the car. 

“john!” you choked out, in disbelief. 

“don't fight me on this sweetheart. i need you to listen to me and do what i say, okay? im trying to keep you safe, and that isn't going to work if you have your phone on you. you cant be traceable.” you sat there, realising the weight of his words. 

“i asked you to drink, baby. please.” you scoffed, a little attitude now. you wanted to throw the water in his face or tell him to shove it up his ass. he was being vague again. not answering your questions, ordering you around. but you conceded and drank, he watched you out of the corner of his eye. 

you sipped, thinking about how much your family would worry when you didnt answer their calls, would they file a missing persons report? i mean, they didnt know what john.. truly did. oh god this was going to be messy. you gulped down the water, curled away from him. was it petty? sure. but you wanted to know you weren't happy with him. 

you sighed sipping the water and suddenly the bottle slipped from your hand, sloshing onto your shoes and dribbling down your lips as you tilted your head almost in slow motion, realising what had happened. john didn't react. why wouldn't he react? oh… oh.

“john, i feel dizzy n’ fuzzy or something.. i dont-” you slurred out, not recognising your voice, you sat confused as your head lolled back into your seat and you slipped into unconsciousness. 

fuck,  john swore under his breath. the guilt was going to eat at him alive. he needed to get you on a plane, a private unlisted one of course, far away and off the grid. but he knew he would have to drag you on kicking and screaming, your phobia of flying would ensure that. that would be loud, and messy. next best solution? 

mildly drug the love of your life to make the transition smoother. god you would never forgive him for this, but it’s something he was doing for you, he tried to convince himself.

the unmarked suv pulled up to an open field, somewhere in japan. an undisclosed location. there was a plane under a huge tarp waiting, he pulled the tarp of the smaller plane, it was only built for two. he never mentioned he could fly a plane, or that he had fake passports made up, or that he spoke multiple languages and had various safehouses built.. nothing of the sort. but why would he want to worry your precious mind? there was nothing he hated more than seeing the look of fear on your face. 

he shoved the luggage in and sighed, cursing again as he slung you over his shoulder, walking up the two steps to the plane, sitting you down and strapping you in. tears welled in his eyes at the sight of you sitting there, looking so vulnerable. he gently pulled your head up to slip on the headphones and closed the plane door. as he strapped in, the plane roared to life and suddenly the two of you were in the air. 

he landed the plane somewhere in sweden. a field. where he of course, had another unmarked suv waiting. he killed the engiene, swallowing his guilt as he slid your headset off and scooped you back up, wiping a small line of drool from the corner of your mouth, your jaw had gone slack. 

you stirred slowly, words slow to come out of your mouth, still a little slurred as he drove around sweden. something garbled and entangled, adjacent to ‘john?’. he clenched his jaw, inhaling softly before deciding to pull over, if you slapped him, it would probably be best if the car was stationary. 

he turned to look at your sweet face. waiting for you to speak. you winced softly, your head aching, limbs like jelly. groggy. 

“you..- did you?” you mumbled out with bite. you had pieced it together as you passed out. he didnt react, because he was expecting you to fall unconscious, because he have you water he had previously drugged. 

“i had to get you on a plane. without you pulling my hair or screaming.” he said calmly, staring straight forward. 

“i might just fucking kill you, actually, ive decided.. im your wife!” you yelled, and he flinched. “you deserve this, john” - he spoke to himself in his mind. 

“my darling girl, i know. i know..” he winced as you continued your rant. 

“you fucking drugged me! with what? what was it? some fucked up sedative im sure you have lying around in our apartment. oh! im sorry, our old apartment. i cant do this. where the fuck are we? im going back home.”

“cant tell you the drug. it’s something from somewhere, we can call it that. we’re in sweden, i have a safe house being set up but we need to stay in a hotel tonight.”

“oh! fantastic, we’re in fucking sweden and my husband practically used a date rape drug to knock me out.”

“honey please dont ever use the word ‘rape’ and ‘my husband’ in a sentence together, ever again. clear?” he said sternly looking at you.

you sighed softly. “im sorry- i didnt it mean it like that. but im still fucking seething with you.” he turned the car back on, turning back onto the road. 

“which is entirely fair. you can slap me when we get to the hotel, alright baby? i just need to get you somewhere while we wait for the safehouse.” he said softly. 

you grumbled something out but relented. “im not going to slap you, you’d somehow get off on that.” you blurted out and he chuffed under his breath, knowing that would be true. 

you arrived in a hotel, a fancy one at that, he spoke to the front desk. luggage at his side. oh great, he speaks swedish too. you glared at him as he spoke. he walked you to the elevator. 

“honey?” you said with a deceiving smile and anger in your voice. 

“yes dearest?” he responded with equal sarcasm.

“next time i comment on the fact you’re bilingual, maybe correct me and say trilingual.” 

“polygot actually, 8 languages.” 

you turned your head to look up at him, and yell. but the elevator doors dinged and opened, revealing a sweet looking couple. you bit your tongue and he stepped aside letting the couple out. he had the nerve to strike up a conversation with them as you looked at the ground, no idea what was being said. 

“åh vilket underbart par!” the woman cooed softly, nudging her husband who agreed smiling gently. 

“ah tack så mycket, det här är min underbara fru. kul att träffa er båda, men vi måste komma till vårt rum. önskar dig lycka till!” john spoke and your eyes widened softly at the accuracy of the accent, he dragged you into the elevator. 

“i love you. i love you so much. please realise im doing this for you. to protect you.” he said, holding your cheeks softly in his palms as the elevator rode up to your floor. 

“i love you too. im just confused, and scared.. i wouldnt have gotten on a plane otherwise, im still peeved you did that though.” he nodded, kissing your forehead.

“i know baby, how about i run you a bath and we can order some champagne and talk? would that be alright?” you nodded softly as he walked you to your hotel room. it was lovely, luxurious even. he ran the bath and you stripped, slipping in and sighing in bliss, closing your eyes. 

you heard him speak on the hotel phone, probably ordering champagne, and he checked the hotel room, paranoid. the champagne never came, and so he sighed, poking his head into the bathroom, looking at you in absolute awe. you turned your head looking towards him.

“im just going to run down to see what’s taking so long, okay baby? i will be right back, two minutes at most.” you nodded softly. 

“that’s okay. ill be here… and john?”

“hm?”

“i love you.” he smiled walking over to kiss you delicately, looking into your eyes.

“i love you too. two minutes, time me.” he murmured before disappearing. 

two minutes later, almost exactly - if you had bothered to time it, you heard the door click. you smiled to yourself, closing your eyes softly as you relaxed in the bath, bubbles covering you. you heard the footsteps approach the door. 

“john? dont bother with the glasses, just come here.” you called out, assuming he was going into the hotel room to collect the glasses. he never responded. he always responded to you. 

“john?” you called out, voice wavering. it’s not like you could call him. but surely it was him. you sighed, stepping out, wrapping a towel around your body. soap suds rolling down your chest as you padded out into the bedroom part of the hotel room. he was nowhere to be seen. 

“john? baby?” you mumbled softly. it all happened so fast.

you had no time to react as a hand clamped over your mouth from behind. another grabbing your waist, hand around your towel. your short towel. you kicked, screaming, muffled behind the hand. trying to kick out the feet from behind you. you halted, inhaling shakily when you felt something cold press to the side of your head. this wasn't john. 

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i love you!

18+ !! <3

john wick ✧ .・relocking your doors, a hand on your back at all times, laced money, trained vigilance, constant protection, relocating, russia, unmarked black suvs, tokyo, constantly looking over one's shoulder, red roses, self defence lessons, codewords, undisclosed places, a double life, chin up, silk lingere, safehouses, deep kisses.

my fics:

flight risk: life was perfect, despite what your parents wished for you, you had all you could possibly want. surely your husband wont wake you up at 2am and drag you across the world, uprooting everything you've ever known.

inspo songs:

tainted love, soft cell

million dollar man, lana del rey

dirty diana, michael jackson

criminal, britney spears

thats life, frank sinatra

califonia dreamin', bobby womback

female robbery, the neighbourhood