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renxroxes · 24 days ago

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Relationship: John Wick x Female Reader

Fandom: John Wick

Warnings: John’s POV, attempted attack, slight force, self loathing, more fear, crying, non-con touching(not explicit), reader needs a hug, John is kind of delusional, John is depressed

Note: I made a really cool title banner for this story, but the gif was too big to put on here (T-T) so its just a regular boring pic. Oh well, it still looks cool. Anyway, thank you for the lovely support! Super happy people are liking this. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated :D

Also, I am aware I repeat things. I have a bad habit of doing that, and I am really trying not to. So, apologies if you see repeated stuff or info.

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Chapter 2 | …

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Never Again |3|

Seeing the dark grey Pit Bull did not seem to brighten John’s mood. His steps felt heavy as he walked down the spiral staircase and onto the main floor of his large, fancy home. The weight on his shoulders grew heavier as time passed. *What the hell am I doing?* he constantly asked himself. Yet, he didn’t seem to take any action to relieve himself of that burden.

John’s gaze landed on his slightly trembling hands, and he stared at them as if there were blood on them. Technically, there were years and years of blood on his hands from his grueling job, which he had now retired from. But now, all he could see was innocent blood. Although he hadn’t killed the woman and never would, his guilt lingered as if her blood were staining his hands. He had taken her without her consent, robbing her of her life. Her love for books, her love for talking to people—now he had her isolated, all for himself.

John reminded himself that he needed this; it was the only way for him to feel satisfied and to fill the void in his heart that Helen had left behind. Y/N was the only person who brought him peace of mind and warmth.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, he tore his gaze away from his hands and looked down at his new puppy. As soon as their eyes met, the puppy seemed happy—happy for the attention, happy to see his owner. If only Y/N responded that way.

She will soon enough.

“Hey, boy.” John slowly kneels down, grimacing slightly at his sore body and aching wounds, and rests his hand on the pit bull's head to pet him. “You’re a good boy, huh?” he says, as if the dog could respond.

After giving his dog a few minutes of attention, he pushes himself back up to his feet and straightens his black vest. It has been a few hours since he arrived home, and he figures it’s best to change into something more comfortable.

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By the time John had changed into his pajamas—dark grey sweatpants and a simple white T-shirt—and poured himself another cup of coffee, he could see the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon through his window.

The past few days have been hectic. He avenged the death of Daisy, the puppy his late wife gave him to help him grieve, and dealt with the theft of his car. In response, he had kidnapped a Pit Bull from the pound and a woman from her home. Now, he is finally back home. This time, he intended to stay retired and live a new life with his new dog and… new wife.

Well, maybe he shouldn’t call her his wife, yet.

John looks down at the Pit Bull he hasn’t thought to name yet, watching its tail wag back and forth in excitement. “Looks like I’ll need to train her too, huh, boy?” John chuckles, but the laughter lacks genuine feeling. It’s a dark joke, he realizes, considering Y/N as if she were his pet, too. However, that’s not the case. She may be a replacement for Helen, but she will soon become her own person whom he’ll love unconditionally.

Taking a sip of his coffee, John decided it was time to go back upstairs and check on her. He hadn't heard any loud noises—no crying, screams for help, thrown furniture, or banging on the door. It was too quiet.

Setting his mug down, John left the kitchen and walked up the spiral stairs with his puppy in tow. When he reached the bedroom door, which was now Y/N’s, he turned to his dog and pointed a stern finger. “Sit,” he commanded. To his surprise, the puppy obeyed. “Stay.” John was impressed but knew he would need to train the puppy further as time went on.

John unlocked the door, hearing it creak softly as it slowly swung open. The room was dark, but the large windows leading to the balcony let in enough morning light to reveal some details. As he took a few steps inside, he noticed that the bed was empty.

Before he knows it, something catches his attention from the left. Acting purely on instinct, years of training as an assassin and military service kick in. He swiftly grabs the arms descending towards him, his large, calloused fingers wrapping tightly around Y/N’s wrists. He forcefully moves them to the side, away from his head.

A loud crash sounds behind him, but he ignores it, shoving Y/N against the nearest wall with remarkable speed. Because she lacks training, he easily slams her back into the wall, caging her body with his own. He presses his arm against her chest to keep her there.

The pained gasp that escaped her lips caused his heart to ache as he realized what had just occurred. His dark eyes landed on her fear-filled ones. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were red from crying. She tried to fight against his strength but quickly gave up, knowing she wouldn’t win.

John hesitates as he glances to his side and sees a lamp on the floor. It suddenly becomes clear to him what happened. Y/N was hidden behind the wall near the door, and when he got within range, she attempted to attack him with the lamp. In a way, she’s clever. But she’s not clever enough for an assassin.

"I'm sorry," John hears her croak, and he looks at her face again. She is crying, mostly out of fear. Her apology seems to be instinctive; John can tell she’s worried that she may have angered him and that he might hurt her.

The thought alone made him feel nauseous. Now that he was calmer and assessing the situation, he slowly stepped back, easing the pressure he had been applying to her chest. He remained cautious, aware that she might attempt to attack again the moment he let his guard down. However, she didn’t make a move.

He watches as she slides against the wall, backing away to the far corner of the room, left of the bed, where she stands trembling. “Please don’t hurt me,” she sobs, her shoulders practically up to her ears as she huddles in the corner.

John furrows his brows at her words, then relaxes his posture, letting his arms hang by his sides. “I’m…” he starts, trying to find a way to reassure her. However, he knows it would be impossible. He kidnapped her, and she is terrified. She doesn’t understand what is happening or why she is there. She has no knowledge of his motives. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he finally says, taking another step back.

As John takes a step back, the heel of his foot brushes against something. Turning to look, he sees the lamp that she attempted to hit him with. It’s the lamp from one of the bedside tables. He steps over it to face Y/N while inspecting the damage. The bulb is broken, and one side of the lampshade is bent inward. Fortunately, it isn't completely ruined, so he can easily fix it.

The room was silent, except for the soft cries and hiccups of the girl hiding in the corner. Eventually, she slid down to the floor, sitting with her knees hugged to her chest. Was she scared that he would hurt her because she had tried to hit him? And because she had broken his lamp?

“It’s fine,” John mutters, picking up the broken lamp and forcing an awkward smile. “I can fix it. It’ll be an easy fix.” She doesn’t respond, just as he expected. His smile fades as he looks down at the lamp in his hands and the shards of glass scattered on the floor. “I’ll... be right back to clean this up. Please don’t step over here; there’s broken glass.” He felt so awkward, as if he had never spoken to a girl before. It was like talking to a scared child.

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It didn’t take him long to go grab a broom and a garbage bag. Y/N hadn’t moved once when he came back, and it…made his heart ache once more. Seeing her look so afraid because of him was starting to get a bit frustrating, but he knew he had to be patient. He couldn’t expect her to accept her new life. Hell, he was having a hard time accepting what he did.

Ever since he brought her here, his mind would constantly argue back and forth. About how kidnapping an innocent woman was wrong and he should let her go, while the other part of him wants her to stay because he deserves her. He deserved peace once more. Either way, he wanted it all to just shut off.

It felt like he was going insane just because of this one illegal action, when he has done many illegal things before.

It didn’t make sense. It was downright annoying the hell out of him.

John lets out a sigh, hearing the glass clink together as it's brushed onto the dustpan, and then dumped into the trash bag he brought. He made sure to sit where he could see her, watch her every move. After the stunt she pulled, he can’t say he trusts her right now.

Just as he finished cleaning up the broken glass, he noticed she had gotten quiet once more. Glancing up, John can see she had stopped crying, however still huddled up in the corner to keep the distance between them.

He wanted to scold her, be mad at her for trying to hurt him. But he never does, because he knows she’ll learn eventually what she can and can’t do. She’ll learn to love and respect him.

Again, he needs to be patient.

John stands up from the floor, the broom in one hand and the garbage bag in the other. “Are you, uh….” He clears his throat, not sure whether looking at her would freak her out or not. “Are you hungry? I can…bring some lunch or…” he gestures with his hands as he talks, despite them being full. His words ended openly, as if to invite her to answer or at least speak to him. When she continues to give him the silent treatment, he shrugs, giving up on trying for the day. It's the first day, she’ll come around eventually.

“I’ll just bring something up later,” he murmurs, desperate to get out of this awkward situation. Hesitantly, he stands there for a little longer, as if to wait in case she wants to say something. Then, he leaves the bedroom, locking the door right behind him.

Maybe food will make her feel more welcomed.

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