#arece drabbles

[arece]

Reader dies instead of John fucking load on the angst

Remember Me

♤ Summary: What if you died instead?

♤ a/n: THIS ISN'T CANNON!!! A what if that I personally think is even more painful than the original. I find it concerning how I find angst so much easier to write. This is a long one (2.2k) The masterlist

♤ Warnings: ANGST! John Wick violence, death.

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“Please, stop this.”

“I can’t.”

***

You begged him, followed him, did everything you could to try and stop him from doing this but it didn’t matter. Forever stubborn, a trait you no doubt got from him. Many mannerisms you had came from John. From the glower you do unconsciously to your dry humor.

But that all didn’t matter, not anymore. John had a plan, one where he might not make it out alive but the Marquis would go down with him, one where you’d be free in a way he was never able to attain. This was for you, he’d do anything for you.

“Fire!” He shoots just as Caine does. They both miss. He hears your whimper from beside Winston and it takes everything in him not to flinch back from the sound. He can feel the blood dripping down from the graze on his arm, a patch of red blooming from his white shirt. 

The Harbinger calls them back twenty paces. He takes a breath, a quick glance to see the almost agonizing worry painted on your face. For you. “Fire!” It felt much faster this time, it was. It had to be realistic, like they were planning to kill each other.

The growing pain in his left shoulder knocks him back a step but otherwise he doesn’t react. Caine grunts, slightly hunched over and holding at his side. Painful yet not fatal, they took another ten paces and it was time.

“Those who cling to death, live.” A bittersweet truth he clung to until there was you. Caine gives a barely visible nod, “Those who cling to life, die.”

“Fire!”

The shot to his stomach winds him to the point he falls to his knees. It won’t kill him, a few inches upwards and would have, he wouldn’t reveal that just yet. You cry out and Winston nearly has to hold you back. He has to close his eyes, tempted to tell you he was fine but he can’t show his hand. He wasn’t done yet, he had to win.

“¡Alto!” Vincent eagerly calls out. I claim the last shot.” He grabs a bullet before storming up to Caine with a sick sort of glee. “Your weapon, give it to me,” he demands, holding his hand out. “Is my daughter free now?” He carefully asks.

Caine’s part of the deal is fulfilled, he and his daughter were now free like you’d both soon be. “Oui. You and your daughter, enjoy.” He rips the gun from Caine and quickly reloads it. “You lose,” he confidently calls out before being cut off by Winston’s mocking laugh.

“You arrogant asshole. He didn’t shoot.” Vincent snaps over to John but it’s already too late. “Consequences,” he spitefully said before shooting him straight in the head. It was all over, he finally ended it all.

You’d be safe, he could be with you, that is if you forgave him for leaving you behind. He was aware it was his fault, that it was something he should’ve never done, but at the time he felt it was the only thing he could do to keep you safe. After two years, he finally got you back.

“John,” a soft whimper behind him. He looks up to see you holding your stomach, a few inches upwards. The Marquis’ gun went off, hitting you as collateral. You nearly fell back until Winston grabbed ahold of you.

Caine stepped back, The Harbinger leaving, it was not the time to finalize the terms. “No.” John feels nearly hysterical as he clumsily makes his way to you, dragging you from Winston into his arms. It felt like he wasn’t even there, this wasn’t real.

He pushes down on your wound, desperate for it to go away. You cry out from the pain, “I know, I know. I got you, kid.” Winston has to turn away, tearing up at the sight of just how fragile you looked.

John felt himself growing frantic, nearly losing himself already at the idea of losing you. He tries to gather you into his arms, just like that time you were sick. Just like that time, you’d be fine. He was overreacting, the Doctor would tell him it’s something minor. It won’t be like his Helen.

But you stop him, crying quietly now as you hold tightly to his hand on your stomach, “you’re free now?” You ask in an uncharacteristically small voice that has him nearly sobbing. “Yeah,” he brushes your hair back just like every time he’s done before.

It was foolish, you know, but you just wanted him to comfort you one last time, “you’re not going anywhere?” John slightly chokes, pulling you closer, as if holding you to him and refusing to let you go would keep you here. “You and me, kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I missed you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you cuddled into him like you did whenever you had a nightmare. It was almost enough to convince John that’s what this was, you were just sleeping. But the lack of your chest rising and the soothing sound of your breaths had him finally breaking down.

No matter how hard he tried to do right by you he failed, every time. He did all of this to save you, left you for two years to protect you, reunited with you, only for you to die. You had begged him to stop, gave him so many opportunities to put down his gun and just live for you and he refused. His never ending need for revenge killed you, he killed you.

The background was a blur, he couldn’t hear anything, focused on solely rocking you back and forth, pushing your hair back every time it fell into your face. He ignored the blood he smeared on your face as he brought your head closer - your blood - and kissed your head softly.

You. His daughter, his kid, his baby. He missed you too, there was never a moment he didn’t, even now he missed you more than anything. Winston tried to step closed and he held out your knife threateningly. He didn't care, no one got near you right now except for him.

“Johnathan,” He calls out softly, red rimmed eyes of his own. “The first time I saw her in two years and she’s already gone.” He didn’t bother looking up, trailing a finger over your cheek that was already growing cold.

“I missed so much and it’s my own fault,” he glances up at Winston, “I’ll never get that time back.” He gathered you close and stood, he was going to bring you home and you were never going to leave again.

He nods for his jacket and Winston drapes it over you, covering your fatal wound just like he wanted. You were sleeping. It hit him suddenly that he never told you he loved you and it was almost enough to send him back to the ground.

He should’ve just done what you had asked, whatever you wanted. He held you securely with Winston by his side, both ready to bring you back. 

***

(y/n) Wick

Loving daughter

“You and me, kid.”

Something you’d probably scoff at but it felt right. Dog refused to move from your grave and John had half the mind to stay with her. Even the Bowery King had shed a few tears, having to leave soon after due to not being able to handle the emotions.

“Always said he was dramatic,” he could almost swear he heard you say. You were next to Helen, a little family he wanted to join. He didn’t know what to do without you, lost in a way he’s never been before.

Losing a child is a pain you never get over, a gaping hole that never fills. He was angry but had no one left to blame, no enemies to kill. For once, John was forced to sit and deal with his grief and god if it wasn’t the most painful thing he’s ever felt.

He carried so much guilt and regret for what happened between you, so many mistakes he’d never be able to go back and fix. Winston’s reassurance of how much you had loved him didn’t help.

You admired and loved a monster, both John Wick and the Baba Yaga. It had gotten you killed. Everything John Wick loves dies. You were doomed from the moment he accepted that coin, the moment he placed his jacket over you in that car and decided he would do anything for you.

He felt that he cried out everything he had left, numb besides the anger he held towards himself. This was his own doing. Eventually he forced himself and Dog to go to your apartment, the place you lived when John forced you out of your home.

It felt empty - lonely. It was enough to break his heart all over again, he drove you to this. He collected the few photos of yourself in the apartment, his own only of your younger years. He couldn’t stand the thought of the last image he had of you being older was dying in his arms.

 As he brushed over your belongings he came across a small box. He opened it to see a bunch of folded up papers held down by a gold coin. A gold coin he recognized, the coin that led him to you, to your death. He picked it up and was tempted to throw it away before pocketing it. He’d keep any part of you he could get, even if it reminded him of his mistakes.

He picked up one of the folded papers; a letter dated back to a few days after he left you. 

John,

I don’t think I could ever forgive you. I trusted you. 

I never believed that I could belong anywhere, everyone seemed to leave eventually.

I knew that day would come with you, I just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

He swallowed, skimming through the letters, varying emotions of resentment, hurt, and confusion in each. It was painful, but one John wholeheartedly deserved. He may have been what you wanted but he wasn’t what you deserved, you deserved more.

He reached the last letter in the pile, it was written just a week before you hunted him down, a week and a few days before you died.

John,

I think I get it now. Though it doesn’t make it hurt less, I at least know now that you did care. You wanted me to be safe but what you seemed to never understand is that I felt safest with you.

All I wanted was you. I’ll always carry that hurt for the potential what could’ve been but I can cherish the time we did have together, when I had someone who cared for me so deeply.

I hunted down the Continental Doctor to trade for that coin you gave him - something to remember you by - and he gave it to me for free. I think he understood.

Everyone seemed to do that better than us. We always struggled to actually talk to each other, resorting to desperate actions. Maybe that’s what led us here today.

I hope you find that peace and freedom you always longed for, the kind you couldn’t get with me. That’s part of the reason I think we would’ve never worked, all I brought was chaos and pain, something you never needed more of, what you were trying to escape. For that I’m sorry.

Now, I’ll try to fix our mistakes, learn from them and speak openly. I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to send these to you but if you do find them I hope you know that I love you. 

I love you and thank you for being the dad I never got. Even if it was for a short time.

Love,

Your daughter.

John fell down onto your chair, crying so hard he couldn’t make out the words on the letter. He held it away from him, scared he’d stain it with his tears.

You got to heal but for the wrong reasons, without his apology and the full knowledge of his love for you. You were right, you both struggled with words and he should’ve tried harder. You always struggled feeling like you belonged and he didn’t do enough to reassure you.

He wished he could’ve told you just how much he cared for you, how much he loves you. How he’s sorry.

***

Although no matter what happened next it would never be fully happy; but if John were able to heal the slightest bit, accept, and move on, it would’ve been better. Though that’s never how John worked. He solely relied on his anger, looking for someone to blame, looking for a fight. Something he knew how to do.

He chose to direct his anger towards the entire High Table, to wipe them all out. Winston tried to fight him on this, convince him that it wouldn’t be what you wanted. But you weren’t here and you were gone because of the High Table and him. Either way they’d both go down for taking you away.

A suicide mission. But what else was there left to live for? He lost all that brought meaning to his life, he killed it, watched as it slipped through his fingers, helpless to stop it all. Helen, and now you.

He didn’t believe in much anymore but he hoped, hoped that when he did finally get to rest, it’d be with you.

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight  @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01

#john wick father figure #platonic #john wick #john wick x fem!reader #john wick x you #john wick x reader #fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #fem reader #arece drabbles #john wick one shot #john wick imagine #john wick 4 #john wick chapter 4 #john wick spoilers #keanu reeves one shot #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves

[arece]

hiii i was wondering if i could request john comforting the reader after they get some sort of nightmare or they get scared i guess it would be the opposite of the baba yaga intimidation that john has thank you in advance you’re awesome🤍

♤ a/n: The comfort we all needed after all that angst in the last chapter. This was a fun and cute little write I enjoyed! The series this drabble belongs to can be found here!

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A year had gone and passed quickly since the events with the Spade’s. You were shocked that John had allowed you to stay in his home, even Winston and Charon welcomed you to the Continental for check-ins.

It felt unreal and you still struggled with processing it all. Unconsciously a part of you was still waiting for John to kick you out, to realize his obligation to you was over and you were nothing but a lingering parasite.

You were always tense, on guard, never fully settling completely in the home. Of course, John being the ever observant man he is, noticed this. He had assumed that you were still weary from the attacks with the Spade’s, he’d be shocked if you weren’t. It was a very traumatizing thing to go through at such a young age.

The stress of your doubts had now reached your unconscious mind. Practically every night you were having nightmares that woke you up at odd hours. Usually you were able to stay quiet enough that John remained unaware of your predicament. 

Only Dog was aware and she now slept by your side to offer her comfort when you needed it, much to John’s confusion. Although Dog loved you, never before had she reached the point of picking to stay at your side over John’s at the rare instances you two were separated.

Though your luck had apparently run out tonight. John had finally realized what a waste of his time and skills it was to have you around. Lately, it seemed like you couldn’t do anything right; you messed up during training, broke a glass by accident, and forgot to help him with groceries like he had asked of you earlier in the day.

You could feel his frustration grow for you by the minute. You tried to make yourself scarce to prevent any further annoyance but it only seemed to backfire. He reached his limit, already having a bag pre-packed for you.

You understood where he was coming from but it still hurt. You tried not to cry, not wanting to show anymore just how weak you are. He passed you a lousy twenty dollar bill and told you to be careful in case the Spade’s got word you were on your own.

You were on your own. It’s not the first time, before Aurelio you were living on the streets. This time it felt different, you felt like you were missing something. You felt lost. Finding a small and empty alleyway for the night wasn’t very hard, finding a clean one however, was.

It had taken you hours and you were exhausted by then. With the sun setting you curled into a little ball, hoping it would help prevent any body heat loss throughout the cold night. Just when your luck couldn’t get any worse it began to rain like you were in some cliche sitcom.

You trembled, bottom lip quivering as you used the rain to hide the tears now let loose, though the sounds of your cries were bound to give you away. You looked up to see a dark figure enter the alley. You reached for the knife John gave you only to remember he had taken it back.

You couldn’t run as they were blocking the only exit. They reached for you with a tight grip, you tried to fight back but it was proving to be useless. “John!” You called out pitfully, knowing full well he couldn’t hear you and if he did, he wouldn’t help.

“John!” You screamed as two arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling your back to a firm chest. You squirmed with all your might but it wasn’t working. “It’s me. Hey, it’s me.” Your fighting slowly came to a stop when you finally processed the voice.

John. What was John doing here? You slowly blinked, regaining awareness. You were in the guest bedroom that John had now officially claimed as yours. You relaxed in his hold realizing it was just a dream, a nightmare.

He still held onto you even when he felt you physically calm. “The Spade’s aren’t coming for you,” he tried to reassure you. You softly shook your head, “it wasn’t the Spade’s - at least not till the end.”

He let you go in confusion, letting you turn to face him. “You kicked me out, I wasn’t enough to keep around and you realized it.” You could see the flicker of realization in his eyes, complete understanding for your behavior of the past year.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he grunted as he slowly laid down. It was your turn to show confusion, “what’re you doing?” He patted the side of the bed and Dog immediately jumped up, licking your face before curling at the end of the bed by your feet.

“It wouldn’t be right not having you around. You’re not going anywhere and I’m not going anywhere.” He tucked you in beside him, staying with you and Dog even long after you fell asleep. Prepared to reassure you if you were to wake up again that he was here and always would be.

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x fem!reader #john wick #platonic #fem reader #john wick father figure #fanfic #john wick imagine #john wick one shot #arece drabbles

[arece]

Heart to Heart Universe Masterlist

♤ John Wick x platonic!f!reader (father/daughter duo) (finished)

(completed)

♤ Late Arrival

♤ Never Saw the Start

♤ Walking Parallels

♤ Time Played Apart

♤ Days We Were Together

Drabbles/requests in the universe: (completed)

@knightmallorie playlist for the series

♤ What if reader was afraid of dogs?

♤ John helps reader with her homework

♤ Reader has a nightmare

♤ Akira x reader

♤ Song association!

♤ Reader can't move on from John

♤ Caine looks after reader (head cannons)

♤ Reader comforts John

♤ Reader gets sick

♤ What if: It had been reader instead?

♤ Reader begins to forget

♤ Reader and Aurelio get closure

♤ Reader accidentally breaks something

♤ Reader's birthday

♤ Reader's origin story

♤ Reader plans John's funeral

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Taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01 @commanderfreethatdust @wisepizzatart

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x fem!reader #keanu reeves x reader #john wick #keanu reeves #platonic #fem reader #john wick father figure #fanfic #john wick imagine #john wick one shot #john wick series #arece drabbles

[arece]

hey abby i was wondering if i could request a drabble about john comforting the reader after the reader makes a mistake (like breaking a dish, misplacing something, or anything else you can think of)/thinks that they’re a mistake i really love your comfort drabbles lol thanks so much <33

Cool About It

♤ Summary: Some fears just never truly go away. The masterlist

♤ a/n: Some insight to Readers past before John and Aurelio??? Look guys I'm still alive! I have two weeks of school left so finals have been trying to kill me off. I'm trying to get through the requests, I swear I am!

♤ Warnings: panic attacks, injuries, burns, cuts, reader's been through some stuff :(

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The past two years you’ve been officially staying with John he grew used to how jumpy you could be. He expected it to tone down after the incident with your nightmare but it seemed… different. It only appeared to be on a worse level with certain situations.

He’d catch moments where you’d be lost, staring off into the distance, caught in a memory he couldn’t see. He wanted to ask you about it but was worried about scaring you off, pushing into new territory that neither of you had addressed yet. You were already so skittish as is.

Lost communication seemed like it’d always be you twos failing point, John wanting to save you and you fearing that he’ll need to. It’s hard to be a functional family when you can’t admit to each other it’s what you crave.

You had a special sense for reading other people's body language, being able to tell a switch from the smallest finger twitch. Although it came from a dark place it came to be useful for certain situations. That’s what already had you on guard when John came home from his latest contract.

The atmosphere was tense, even Dog chose to not stick around, scampering off to your room. He looked angry, frustrated. He was also exhausted by the bags under his eyes, most likely not getting much sleep the few days he was away.

“Hey, you’re back. Winston said you’d be a couple more days…” you trailed off at his deep sigh from your words, were you annoying him? He rubbed a hand over his face, letting his bag slide down from his arm to fall on the floor.

You slightly tense from the loud smack as it made contact with the floor but brushed it off. “Got lucky,” you could barely catch his low murmur. He fell back against the couch and you felt the need to make sure he was alright, that you’d prevent anything from angering him further.

“Are you hungry?” You found yourself practically forcing the words out. “No.” The grit in his tone twisted your stomach the wrong way and your breath caught slightly. “I’ll make you some tea.” You scampered out of the room before he could respond.

You set the kettle on the stove top, water slightly spilling out from the side due to your shaking hands. You took a deep breath trying to swallow down the uncomfortable fear growing inside. Not knowing how much sugar he took you decided to place it on a tray so he could do it himself. 

You poured in the boiling water and picked out a random tea bag before adding it to the tray, carrying it out to the living room. You could feel your anxiety rising as you approached John, his demeanor not any more calm from when you left him.

You placed the tray on the coffee table, “I’m not sure how you wanted it so I brought over a bunch,” you slightly rambled as you set things out. Your elbow knocked the corner of the sugar container, sending it spilling out.

You felt your heart physically stop. “Fuck,” John let a curse slip out over the mess. Tears started to sting at your eyes and you began to scramble to clean it all up as quickly as you could. “I’m sorry, I’m-” You hissed as the boiling water in the mug burnt your fingers, dropping it from instinct.

Glass shattered against the floor, hot water splashing against your bare legs. Before you could truly think it through in the midst of your hysteria you bent down and began picking up pieces of glass, slicing the tips of your fingers. Mumbling apologies insistently in broken sobs you didn’t notice John calling out to you.

“Kid.” He wraps his arms around you, having to physically lift you up and move you to the safety of the couch. You curled up into a small ball, shoving your face in between your arms. You just wanted to disappear, avoid the anger you were bound to face over the giant mess you just created.

John had no choice but to clean up the mess first, not wanting to risk you injuring yourself further. Once he returned from getting rid of the glass he found you right where he left you. You looked so small, so helpless. That reaction - his jaw clenched just at the thought of what could’ve brought you to react like that.

He reached out to you, wanting to clean up the cuts and check that you didn’t seriously burn yourself. But you flinched back. He froze, like a bucket of ice water being poured over him. It’s true, you’ve witnessed him commit brutal acts but he had hoped by now he had managed to prove that he would never hurt you. 

His anger wasn't directed at you, never at you. He was just frustrated at how the contract grew more complicated than he had hoped. He never meant for his frustrations to affect you like that, didn't think that it would.

“Kid,” he whispered softer than he ever has before, “please. I just wanna see that you’re okay.” You peeked at him through your arms, watching him for a moment. As you traced his expression, ensuring there were no hints of anger, you slowly let yourself unravel from the protective ball you created.

While he began to slowly work through your injuries you remained silent, once again becoming lost to him. He didn’t know how to get you back, the one thing he couldn’t protect you from was your mind, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. 

Once you had finally calmed he sat beside you, not saying anything. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to even express the mass amount of emotions and panic you had just gone through. You knew that John would never hurt you, but that fear for survival never truly went away.

It would claw at you to desperately listen to its warnings, you aren’t safe, it’s your fault, do something, fix it. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” A lie and you both knew it.

He pulled you into his arms, moving slowly so as to not startle you further. When you relaxed into him he breathed out, grip tightening just slightly. “We don’t have to talk about it.” Your head fell against his shoulder in relief.

Sometimes it was easier to not say anything at all.

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01 @commanderfreethatdust @wisepizzatart

#john wick father figure #platonic #john wick #john wick x fem!reader #john wick x you #john wick x reader #fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #fem reader #keanu reeves #john wick one shot #john wick imagine #keanu reeves one shot #keanu reeves imagine #arece drabbles

[arece]

hiii!

could i request by any chance john wick x reader (father- kid) fic where john takes care of reader while they are sick? like john was never emotional or never really showed feelings but when reader gets sick he is overly fatherly, maybe even takes them to see a doctor much for their resisting...

i am really sick rn and its all i can think about..

you can make it a gn or a fem reader

love your work <3

Sweet Nothing

♤ Summary: Used to taking care of yourself, you brush off your sickness and downplayed just how serious it was. The masterlist

♤ a/n: I too have been feeling sick, (which explains why this is so late) I hope you're feeling much better and this helps! A nice little soft fic before the angst I'm about to post next, fair warning.

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Ever the observant man, John noticed instantly, prepared from the first cough. You rolled your eyes, brushing it off as allergies but John was having none of it. He excused it as him not being able to get sick with his career.

He was just genuinely worried but unable to say so. A flaw you both shared, never fully being able to admit exactly how much you care for each other, settling for showing it through meaningful acts.

His worry grew when you slept in later than usual, coughing and sniffling. “The rooms just dry, I’ll drink more water,” you once again brushed him off. He was hesitant but decided not to push you further. His first mistake.

A few days later Winston called him over and he was about to say he couldn’t make it but you wouldn’t let him. You pushed him to go insisting that you were fine and could take care of yourself. Ever so stubborn. 

With great reluctance he left, not without demanding that you call him if you feel even just the slightest bit worse. After a few snippy remarks from your side, he finally left when he was confident that you would call.

You were laying in bed for the next few hours, clinging tightly to Dog in hopes to absorb all the comfort she provided. You felt like absolute shit but didn’t want to burden John, distract him from his job or anything else he was doing.

It was just a dumb cold that you’d quickly get over, you didn’t need to be coddled like a child, you could deal with it on your own. Or so you thought until the coughing fit hit.

It started off just to clear your dry throat but then it wouldn’t stop. Each time you attempted to get a breath of air in it would result in an uncontrollable wheeze. You reached for some water to try and help but you just ended up choking on it.

You fumbled to the side table, grabbing your phone and calling John without a second thought. Not even the first ring finished before he answered, “What’s wrong?” You gasped out, trying to answer him but coughed again. “Kid?”

“I can’t b-breathe,” it took all your energy just to say those few words and you weren’t even sure if they were intelligible. “Shit,” you softly heard from the other side, most likely directed towards himself.

“I’m coming to you now, kid. I need you to stay calm for me, alright?” You could hear him mumble something to someone. “Panicking will only make it worse.” Next thing you heard was a door slamming and a car starting.

“Still with me?” You tried to answer him but was cut off by more harsh coughs, these ones a lot more painful than the last. “Yeah.” Dog whimpered beside you, nuzzling close to show her own worry over your current state.

You stayed on the line with John but it wasn’t long before you heard a car recklessly parking close by and he hung up. Your bedroom door was carelessly thrown open and John rushed over to you, “I’m here.”

He reaches an arm around your shoulders and underneath your legs, lifting you up and beginning to make his way back outside. Your head fell to his shoulder, exhausted from the amount of energy you’ve exerted.

He carefully placed you onto the passenger seat, brushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead. He buckled you in, making sure you were secure before rushing to the driver's seat. “Continental Doctor’s already waiting for you, you’re gonna be alright,” he reassured you.

The ride felt fast with you on the verge of passing out. It all snapped back into focus with the rush of wind hitting you, John opening your door and picking you up again. He felt a wave of anxiety hit with you growing slightly limp.

It was bringing him back to how quickly and brutally his Helen grew ill. All rational thoughts escaped him as he held you closer to him, running up the steps of the Continental. The only thing running through his head being not you, not you, it couldn’t be happening to you.

Straight past Winston and Charon. He had to help you, there may have been nothing he could’ve done for his Helen but you would be fine.

And that’s what the Doctor assured him. It truly was just an extremely nasty case of a cold mixed with allergies. But John found himself preparing for the bad news to hit, that after that rough of a breathing fit there was something wrong with you, something he couldn’t fix.

He watched over you as you slept off the medication the Doctor gave you, ready at a moment's notice for anything to go wrong. You stirred slightly, aware of the way John seemed to fidget with his hands.

“Everything okay?” You slightly sat up and John was quick to adjust your pillow so you could sit comfortably. “You’re alright, just like I said you would be.” It seemed like he was reassuring himself as well as you.

“Listen,” he sighed and you grew slightly nervous, “you can’t play off being sick like that again. I thought - it could’ve been serious.” You immediately felt guilty, hunching in on yourself for all the trouble you caused.

“I’m sorry.” His brows furrowed, moving to sit beside you on the bed. “I just want you safe.” It hit you, harder than you thought it would. He wanted you safe, he cared about you enough to worry. You still struggled to process it but felt too sick still to ponder on it.

Instead you leaned your head on his lap, prepared to fall back asleep with full reassurance that you’d be okay. “With you I always feel safe.” Your confession was enough to have him soften, comfortingly brushing your hair back for the entire time you slept.

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight  @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01

#john wick father figure #platonic #john wick #john wick x fem!reader #john wick x you #john wick x reader #fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #fem reader #arece drabbles #john wick one shot #john wick imagine #keanu reeves one shot #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves

[arece]

Heyyyyy it’s me again lolz

Anyway I wanted to request something fun to stop me from bawling my eyes out. When you said that reader was homeschooled all I thought about is the meme like “me when my dad would yell at me when he tried to help me with math” Could you please write something about that 💀

♤ a/n: When I tell you this had me absolutely losing it. A core childhood memory that even reader can't escape from. It's rather short but I just had to write in the short time frame I had available. Send any requests you have in! heart to heart masterlist here!

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You were completing your last year of online school and you swore you were about to end it all at this very moment. Even taking college level math wasn’t helping, quadratics was a hell within itself.

Here you were, seventeen years old being trained by the deadliest hitman known - the fucking Baba Yaga - and you were close to crying over math. You’d rather do back-to-back sparring sessions with John, take on your own assassination job, you’d even rather get hunted down by the Spade’s again.

Since when did math use this many letters? Have these many rules? Why were you even learning this, how would it ever be used in the life you’re living? Your mind flashed back to the old man rant John went on, explaining how useful it could be, especially when shooting across long distances.

You huffed, throwing your pen to the side of your scribbled out notebook. You were shooting far just fine without fucking quadratics. Even Dog could sense your misery, curling up by the foot of your chair.

You’ve been holed up here at the dining room table for a good three hours trying to solve a measly four step question. It was looking like you’d miss your later training session with John, he’d never let you ditch class work for learning his skills.

Your dramatic groans worked like a charm, John sensing it from whatever dark corner he was hiding in, “why are you still here, training begins soon.” You threw your head into your hands, rubbing them over your face with a drawn out grunt, “quadratics.”

He leaned over behind you, attempting to make out your illegible writings, “what?” You lifted your notebook, practically shoving it in his face. “Quadratics,” you stressed. He grabbed the notebook from your hand to stop you from practically suffocating him with it.

“You’re stuck on a math question?” His judging tone had you immediately on the defensive, huffing out in annoyance. “Try it again, I’ll help you.” He hands back the notebook and you rewrite the question a bit neater.

The pressure of him staring over you while you stared blankly had your back tensing. You begin to add two numbers together before he cuts you off with a quick, “no.” This happened a few more times and you practically ripped the paper while angrily scribbling the wrong answer out.

“You aren’t even helping, you just keep saying no.” Your annoyance was quickly transforming into anger, rageful tears burning at your eyes that you refused to let fall. “Not even worried about it,” you grumbled to yourself as you rewrote the question for the hundredth time.

“No-” You threw the notebook in his face and violently shoved your chair back, knocking him back a few steps with it. “Since you know what you’re doing, show me how it’s done,” your face was beet red, fists clenched tightly to your sides.

John sat down now looking over the question in your previous position. You watched sharply, intent to make him feel your uncomfortable stare burning into his back like he did for you. He didn’t even try to write anything before turning to you.

“Since when did they change math?” The edge to his tone holding an accusing lit as if it was your doing. “How should I know?” You threw your hands up, now more than okay with failing just for this to be over.

“It wasn’t like this when I went to school,” he held the notebook up, like having it closer would magically give him the answer. “Yeah, and that was how long ago?” John ripped the paper in half slowly, you watching on in shock.

He leaned down and offered it to Dog, who gladly ate it. “Now your dog ate your homework.” He calmly left the room before the urge to break a chair, maybe even the table, tempted him further. You let him leave, completely baffled. You decided not to tell him that the work was in fact online and not on paper. 

Who knew math could bring such violent anger out of a person?

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x fem!reader #john wick #platonic #fem reader #john wick father figure #fanfic #john wick imagine #john wick one shot #arece drabbles

[arece]

Hello! This is based on personal experience but how do you the reader would celebrate her birthday with John. Maybe it's her first birthday together and she's never really cared for it but John wants to give her a special day? it's up to you <33

I've Been Waiting For You

♤ Summary: It's reader's birthday, only she didn't expect anything for it. The masterlist

♤ a/n: I've been gone so long and I genuinely feel so guilty. The chaos my life had become for a short while. Anyways, I'm back! And I'm gonna be working through some requests soon! Enjoy!

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You knew something was off, you didn’t know what it was but it was affecting John. He was behaving oddly, more secretive than usual. He was disappearing longer than he usually would for jobs.

While typically that wouldn’t have been abnormal you had unknowingly caught him in a lie. Yesterday John had told you that he was going out to do a ‘favor’ for WInston. He said that it’d take him a day or two at most.

The problem arose when you tried to contact him and got his voicemail. John always answered you, prepared to come to you at a moment's notice for emergencies. At first you tried to brush it off, not wanting to come off as a needy nuisance, but after a while the anxiety was clawing at you.

You came to a compromise with yourself, you decided to call Winston to check on John, prepared to beg him not to tell John that you were worried. You bit at your nail as the phone John gave you dialed - it only had two numbers on it, his, and Winston’s.

“Ah, dear? It’s been a bit since your last call,” you heard him hum. You could tell he was at the bar in the club, the background commotion nearly drowned out his voice completely. 

“I’m sorry, Winston. I was just wondering about John.” It felt stupid to be nervous over a phone call, especially when Winston seemed particularly unbothered. “What made you think to ask me? You know how quiet Johnathan can be, the most I’ve heard him speak is with you.”

You swore you felt your heart physically drop, he lied to you. John lied to you. A number of bad possibilities ran through your mind and you found yourself getting lost in each one. “Dear, has something happened?”

You held back from taking a shaky breath, instead huffing through your nose, “everything’s fine Winston, I think I was just confused.” So very confused. Winston clicked his tongue, unconvinced, “if you say so.”

“I do. Thank you, I’ll visit you and Charon soon, I promise.” You hung up before he could respond out of anxiety. You paced around your room, Dog watching as you dizzy yourself out with dangerous ideas, convincing yourself it had something to do with you, that John was hiding something because of you. 

You nearly felt sick at the thought of upsetting John in any way. You’re not going anywhere, you tried to remind yourself of how he reassured you back when you had those nightmares. But what if it was all just talk. 

Your turmoil was interrupted by the sound of the door clanking open, he was home earlier than you thought and you had yet to calm yourself down. You wait a moment before reaching your room door to greet him.

However you were stopped by a startling, “stay in there!” Your hand froze on the doorknob, ten times more terrified than you originally were. “Please.” He added as an afterthought and it slightly reassured you. Okay, maybe he wasn’t as angry with you as you thought.

You plopped down on the bed, choosing to cuddle with Dog to pass by the time you were ordered to stay in your room. You stared at the ceiling, one hand swiping through Dog’s fur, the other nervously tapping at your stomach.

After a bit your door cracked open, John peeking through, his demeanor tense. You sat up, accidentally forcing Dog’s head off your chest from where she had been peacefully resting. “Come to the kitchen?”

You nodded, walking out, him trailing you close behind. You could feel him staring at you, watching your every move, almost like he was analyzing you. 

You felt lost, finding the kitchen messily decorated with streamers, balloons of different colors oddly thrown about. “What’s this?” John frowned, now looking confused himself. He moved from behind you, dragging a cake you missed before forward.

“I know it isn’t much, but I still wanted to do something for your birthday.” Oh. Your birthday. You had forgotten about the day, lost to your anxieties about John. You had never really cared about your birthday before, and found yourself shocked that John had even known.

You ran your fingers over a raggedly cut streamer, feeling the care and thought that was placed into it. “For me?” You couldn’t quite grasp it still. John felt his heart slightly cracking over how shocked you were at getting even this mess excuse for a birthday surprise.

No fifteen year old should be made to forget their birthday. “I got you a cake, didn’t trust myself to make one.” You turned your focus to the delicately beautiful dessert. You realized that this is the first time you’ve ever been given a cake decorated with the words, “Happy Birthday!”

You had convinced yourself that you didn’t care for your birthday, that it was pointless to celebrate to protect yourself from the hurt of it being brushed over by everyone else. Yet here was John, going out of his way to create something special for you.

You felt embarrassed for getting emotional, nearly angry at yourself. And when he pulled out a pack of candles from his pocket you caught yourself from choking on a cry. “Can we blow them out together?”

“Anything you want.” And as he set up the candles you found yourself deciding not to make a wish, already having everything you could want, not wanting to become too greedy and possibly lose it all.

“Want me to sing you Happy Birthday?” John laughed at the way your nose crinkled just at the thought of him singing.

He lit the candles. “Make a wish.” You both leaned to the candles, and when your eyes shut you couldn’t help but think, I hope to never lose this.

“What’d you wish for,” you asked him as he began to cut up the cake. “It’s not my cake to wish on.” He pushed a plate towards you and watched as you eagerly dug in, a glimpse of childish joy shining through that he hoped to one day completely revive. 

He didn’t make a wish on your cake but he did make a vow, he would do whatever it takes to never have you doubt what you deserved again, he’d keep you safe and happy. He’d show you the love you needed.

“Alright,” he tossed a napkin at you, “present time.” You wiped at your face, looking at him with a raised brow, “this wasn’t the present?” He found himself suppressing a scoff as he placed a small neatly wrapped box in front of you.

“Charon wrapped this, didn’t he?” You figured him out way too easily. “Well if you’re gonna be like that-” You snorted, protesting against him trying to take the present back from your reach.

“No faith in me,” he mockingly sighed. You yanked at the top bow, pulling it loose, “I have the utmost faith in you, promise.” Funnily enough, you found yourself meaning that very seriously. You opened the box to find a small photograph at the bottom of the box.

You pulled it out to see it was of you and John, Dog plopped right in front of you. It must have been taken by Winston as you don’t remember it. You’re looking down at Dog, laughing over how she had her tongue hanging out. John was looking at you, the brightest smile you’ve seen adorned his face.

“You’re getting older but,” John looked over at your shoulder, staring even harder than you were at the photo, “you’ll always be kid to me.” You thought you could have been imagining it, but you swore that John’s eyes had a glassy hue to them.

“Thank you.” You carefully placed the picture back into the box, turning around to hold John in the tightest hug you’re capable of. The picture would be placed in a special frame, sat on your nightstand to stare at continuously each night before you fell asleep.

For a moment, a very good moment, it felt like this is how it was supposed to be; you, John, and Dog.

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight  @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01 @commanderfreethatdust @wisepizzatart

#john wick father figure #platonic #john wick x fem!reader #john wick #john wick x you #john wick x reader #fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #fem reader #keanu reeves #arece drabbles #john wick imagine #john wick one shot #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves one shot

[arece]

The Way Things Go

♤ Summary: You begin to forget. The storyline

♤ a/n: This isn't a request, I'm just feeling angsty. Who still gets covid in 2023? I do and I'm sorry. (1.9k)

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John’s home being burnt down left you very little, and not of monetary value. No, instead it gave you nothing that was explicitly his. You had the coin but that only brought you comfort for so long.

You were having one of your off days, something that became a frequent part of your life since his passing. Curled up on the couch, covered in your softest blanket and Dog, you watched the rain patter against your window. 

Your phone vibrated with another call, most likely from Winston. You continued to ignore it, letting him reach your voicemail. Days like these were not good for speaking with him, you could never tell if it would end with you snapping or hysterically sobbing.

Your relationship with the man has never quite recovered. You found the only way to stop unconsciously blaming yourself was to hold it against him, and he was willing to let you resent him if it meant you were no longer your own enemy. 

It was hard not to blame someone, if you let it go what of him did you have to hold onto? You were fiddling with the coin, silently pleading with yourself to let it be enough but it wasn’t. 

The first to leave you was the way he spoke, afterall he did it so little. Imagining how he said your name, it never managed to sound quite right. It hurt the most when you couldn’t even fathom how he called you kid. The way the letters were pronounced was always wrong.

Then it was how he smelt, something you could no longer even describe - all you could remember was it made you feel serene, smelt of home and safety. Things you weren't even aware you knew until you began to forget it all. 

Your breaking point was his face. You would try to picture his face and it started to blur. No matter how hard you focused, how tightly you squeezed your eyes shut, he never came back into focus. You had no pictures for reference, no clothes, nothing to spare yourself from forgetting it all.

You could feel yourself become lost in grief, it felt like the first night of his death all over again. You were alone, without him there. You were alone for two years when he left you but then at least you knew he was out there, somewhere. Alive.

A knock sounded at your door, it seems it had been happening for a while and you missed it in your contemplation. You could hear your door opening, you didn’t bother to lock it, you didn’t have anyone to worry over your safety anymore.

“You’ve been missing for four days,” Winston slowly kneeled into your field of vision by the side of the couch. Has it really been four days? Time usually slowed down while you were missing him. Hours ticking away agonizingly slow as you waited for the painful episode to end. Maybe it was fast because you were welcoming the ache, it was all you had left of him now.

“I’m tired, Winston,” you whispered, nearly taking all your effort to do so. You couldn’t sleep, closing your eyes only served to remind you how you can’t see him. The episodes always hit the hardest after your good days, you always want him when you finally manage to feel fine.

I know, my dear.” He brushed your hair back gently, the gesture reminding you of John and bringing tears to your eyes. “I’m beginning to forget.” A tear slipped out and Winston rubbed it away, “what are you forgetting?”

“I can’t remember anymore, I can't see him. I can’t speak about it because how do you talk about a ghost?” You could feel yourself becoming more worked up, voice slightly cracking and a lump growing in your throat making it harder for you to speak. “He’s always there but it feels like a cruel trick. I’m losing him all over again.”

Your breathing grew labored and Winston pulled you down from the couch into his arms as you began to cry. “I think it’s time for you to go back,” he softly whispered once you started to calm down. You slowly pushed yourself from his arms, uncomfortable with anyone but him giving you affection. “Back where?”

“To the Ruska Roma.” You felt yourself becoming irrationally angry at the mention of John’s other family, his real family, the one he purposely kept separate from you. “I don’t belong there, he made that clear enough,” you couldn’t help but let your ugly bitterness show.

Winston began to stand, giving Dog a pat on the head before making his way to the door, “well, I believe it holds all the answers you need.” You lifted yourself from the floor, glaring at him in a childish protest. He smiled softly to himself, you were hurt but you would be fine.

“Have I ever told you I hate how cryptic you can be?” He opened the door, laughing. He really did hope you’d go, it’d be healing in a way you’ve been needing for a while now, a way he couldn’t do with the barrier between you two. “Multiple times, dear.”

As soon as the door shut you felt the smile drop from your face, the temporary distraction wasn’t enough to erase your grief. You brushed your thumb over the shining coin, you took care of it, never letting even a speck of dust taint it.

It’s not like they’d even welcome you if you went, did they even know you exist? Probably, word spreads fast when it comes to things that pertain to the Baba Yaga. You weren’t sure if you could handle any negative reaction you’d get from the people John considered family, but Winston thought it would help and you were growing desperate.

***

Your hands shook as you entered the once familiar church. You nearly felt sick when you could remember a blurry John getting dragged out. Just when you began to second guess yourself, turning to leave, a voice called out to you, “come on in, child. We’ve been waiting for you.”

The priest gestured for you to come and you slightly hesitated. As you made your way over, you could feel others staring you down. It made you want to leave, them waiting for you could also be a bad thing. Once you got to the altar the priest touched your forehead, it took everything in you not to flinch back at the contact.

He hummed, looking at your expression before muttering to himself, “the exact same.” Before you could question him a woman accompanied by a few men came in from the back. “Ah, so she shows her face! Something he was never good at.”

You were confused, stepping back as she rapidly approached you. “He did not speak of me? Figures, man of not many words, too busy running away from everything.” She slapped your back harshly in greeting, laughing when you swatted her arm from you.

A man with graying hair, face covered in tattoos and piercings stared into your soul, “I am Klaus.” You were unable to hold back your baffled look, this exchange the furthest thing from what you were expecting. “(y/n),” you responded slowly.

“Imagine my surprise finding out I am an Aunt, let alone when it’s at his last visit before his death.” You wince, looking to the floor at her blunt mention of his death, something you're struggling to acknowledge is real, let alone saying out loud. She grows apologetic, sympathy showing in her expression.

“I am Katia. Come now, I’ll show you to the family.” She reaches to grab you by your arm but you quickly pull away, fumbling at her bewildered expression, “he didn’t- I’m not actually his daughter.” Your voice cracked at the admittance.

But Katia simply scoffed, throwing her hand up in exasperation, “and I’m not actually his sister. Blood does not make family, love does. He loved you, did he not?” You didn’t even hesitate with nodding, although he made mistakes you don’t doubt the love John held for you. “Then you were his daughter and you are my niece.”

After showing you off to hundreds of people she brought you to a small corridor, stopping you at the entrance. “I think this is what you’re really here for.” She opened the door allowing you in but not following after.

You watched as she closed the door but froze when you turned around, breath stuttering. There on the wall was a portrait of John, he was younger but it was him. The wave of emotions that hit you were harsher than you expected, quickly blinking back the tears before they could obscure your sight of him.

As you sat on the bench you couldn’t help but cry at the emotion you felt at your core - relief. Relief that you could see him again, the slope of his nose, the angle of his jaw, his eyes. You had a piece of him back.

You found yourself staying at the Ruska Roma longer than you expected, practically living in the room. You would stay there for hours, just staring, memorizing. You feared that as soon as you left you’d blink and forget it all over again. It probably wasn’t the healthiest, but it was what you needed.

On the fourth day the door finally opened, Katia slowly sitting beside you, also looking at the portrait. You only look away to see what she had placed on your lap.

“It was his before he left.” You lift the jacket to your face, breathing in the scent you swore was there. Maybe it was your own delusion but you swore you could recognize the comforting smell, even if it was many years old. 

Placing your cheek against the fabric reminded you of his hugs, feeling the phantom squeeze of when he’d hold you tightly to him. “You remind me of both of us.” You opened your eyes, seeing that her stare was locked on the painting.

“I resented him for leaving me behind. I see that anger in you,” when she faced you, the sadness in her eyes was reflected in your own. She softly held your cheek in her hand, brushing her thumb under your eye, wiping away any potential tears. 

“I didn’t doubt you were his for a second when you arrived. That same confident, stoic demeanor.” You laughed with her, watching as she blinked away her own tears. “You even do that little furrow he did.” She moves her hand to poke at the space in between your eyebrows.

“I’m beginning to forget him. I can’t leave him behind, not again.” Katia grabs the jacket from you, moving to throw it over your shoulders. “You are a part of him, he lives on through you,” she stood from the bench. “Each time you breathe, that’s you remembering a part of him. The most important part.”

You held the jacket tighter to yourself as she stood beside his portrait. “I won’t make you leave but I will help you move on. I will not let you freeze in your grief, he would have never allowed it.”

“What do you mean?” Katia scoffed, rolling her eyes at the portrait as if it was actually John, “he may have not told you about us, but he spoke of you. He ensured that you’d have a lot of people looking after you, consider yourself the most protected person in the world.”

The pain in your chest grew tenfold, you had always thought he kept you hidden, a buried burden he’d rather not acknowledge. This entire time he tried to keep you separate from the underworld while at the same time making sure if you did get dragged back in you would be protected.

“He was never one for family, but he played the father role naturally.”

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight  @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01

#john wick father figure #platonic #john wick #john wick x fem!reader #john wick x you #john wick x reader #fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #fem reader #arece drabbles #john wick one shot #john wick imagine #keanu reeves #keanu reeves one shot #keanu reeves imagine #john wick chapter 4 #john wick spoilers #john wick 4

[arece]

I’m really liking the idea of Caine accidentally growing attached to john wick’s daughter after John dies. Maybe he starts to worry about her now that she’s without John? I know if I were her I’d probably relapse hard with my mental issues and blame myself for his death. Do you have any headcanons for what Caine would be like with Reader in this scenario?

♤ a/n: Are you the same anon that asked for previous Caine head cannons? If so I love you head cannon anon <333 I hope this is what you asked for, I kinda got carried away with explaining Reader's grief, but like you said, she'd be in a bad place. I do think she'd have a very hard time accepting Caine after everything. The masterlist

Without further ado...

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It’s hard for Caine, he’s conflicted

He did all of this just to be free for his daughter but he also promised John - who got him out - that he’d watch after you

You who’s drowning in grief

You who’s so afraid of losing any bit of John you’re attaching yourself to the version of himself that belonged to the underworld

You who’s threatening to be dragged back to the place he fought to leave, the place John died to save you from

You who is so similar to John he finds himself almost forgetting you’re not biologically his

You who is everything John Wick wished to be, all the little bits of good he saw in the world - all the little bits he loved; Helen, the dog’s, your innocent admiration, desperation to be loved

You who looked at John like he was your world

You, who was John’s world

You who despite he sent away for two years, John ensured was safe, watched, cared for and killed those who still dared to hunt after

You, the only thing ever that managed to cure John Wick’s never ending need for revenge

You who John was willing to finally let everything go for

You who is everything John Wick

You who is slowly becoming the worst of what John Wick feared to be him

Caine couldn’t let that become of you

Not when he could save you in the way he was never able to save his dear friend

At first it was just a promise

Than it was to cure guilt

And then Caine introduced you to his daughter

Who you struggled to get along with as you couldn’t settle in the mundane lifestyle she had the privilege to grow in

But she was patient and loving and you stuck to her like glue

Sisters

And Caine was attached, protective in the way only a dad could be

He knew he’d never be able to say so, not when it meant the possibility of you running away in fear

Fear of replacing John while the grief is still so fresh - you weren’t sure if it would ever stop being so

So Caine will do what he’s been doing for so long with his other daughter

Caring and ensuring you're safety discreetly

Loving you like a father would from a distance 

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01

#john wick father figure #platonic #john wick #john wick chapter 4 #john wick x reader #fem reader #fanfic #john wick caine #keanu reeves x reader #arece drabbles

[arece]

hey. I'm feeing in an angsty mood so what so you think John's funeral would be like? anyways love your writing 🤗

Bury You

♤ Summary: Reader takes John home. The masterlist

♤ a/n: I'm gonna be completely honest, I wrote this one like right away because I had some thoughts on it. But the formatting and posting on tumblr felt too daunting so I really am sorry this came so late! (1.2k)

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It had taken both Caine and Nobody to pry you from the death grip you held John with. Winston was barely holding it together himself, making arrangements on how to bring him home as a distraction.

You were nearly hysterical at the thought of having to part from him even for a moment.

You just got him back.

Nobody practically cradled you as you hyperventilated, clawing at his arms. Caine mournfully placed his jacket, covering John from your sight. 

You had been so calm in his last moments, giving him that final minute of peace, allowing him closure and forgiveness. Now everything that you’ve suppressed came out in a flooding mess of emotions.

It’s like you couldn’t stick to one, quickly switching from anger to utterly overwhelming grief. Just a few minutes ago he was talking to you, he was in your arms and breathing, telling you that you were everything to him. 

Now he’s dead.

The temptation to blame him dug its claws into you, anger was always easier than this gaping sadness. But no, deep down you knew why he did what he did no matter how much you hated that he did it. 

Quickly becoming drained you numbly starred at the body of the man who had been your everything for such a short amount of time. How cruel he was able to have that strong of an impact on you that quickly. 

Winston kneeled down to your eye-level but you merely blinked at him, practically seeing through him and to John. “It’s time to go home now.”

Your face contorted as you finally focused on him, “he was home.” Winston closed his eyes, almost like he needed a moment to collect himself.

“It’s time to bring him home.” You took a shaky breath, nodding softly to him. He grabbed onto your arm and with the help of Nobody, pulled you up. 

It was time to plan a funeral, something he never thought he’d receive let alone with love, thought, and care put into it. You walked over to John, the last time you’d actually see him before you’d have to bury him.

“I don’t think I can ever hate you, but I’m trying really hard to forgive you,” you delicately whispered as you pulled down Caine’s jacket to properly see him. “I know what you did for me and I won’t ruin that. Not after what I lost for it.” 

You were going to pretend for him.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

You were told that the Bowery King had Dog, something that made you slightly bitter. You wanted to go to John’s place to sort through his things but Winston had grabbed you by the arm, trying to prevent you from leaving.

“What is it, what are you hiding from me now?” You yanked your arm from his grip, eye nearly twitching from the rage culminating, you’ve had enough of Winston’s secret keeping.

Winston sighed, “it’s gone. Blown up by a member of The Table’s little fit.” You felt winded at the realization that another piece of John had been taken from you. A sick type of karma that was determined to take away any trace of him, to erase the Baba Yaga, erase John Wick. 

“I need to see it, Winston.” There was a part of you that held a naive inkling of hope, one that you knew would only crush you harder in the end. Maybe, just maybe, in the wreckage of dust and plaster there would still be something left, a piece of proof that there once was a time where it was just you and John. 

The five peaceful years you had together of bonding and healing, of growing together until it was cruelly ripped away. Reality had struck a match and burned down the little life you two had built together. 

It felt like a new type of sickness seeing the true wreckage of what once was your little safety net, your home. Yet, it still didn’t hold a light to the carnage it faced the night John lost you. To him it hadn’t truly been a home since then.

You walked through the piles of rubble attempting to place together where each room would be. From memory you make it to what used to be your room, still able to envision it vividly. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to truly encapsulate what used to be.

Your chest tightened at the thought of what used to sit on top of your nightstand, the only picture you’ve had of you and John. All of the evidence of the time you two dedicated to each other has been ripped away, leaving no trace. To the world there has been no John and you.

You should’ve stolen something when you were forced to leave. It was the one thing you were good at and you didn’t use it. If you had you’d still have a piece of him left.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

John used to tell you that his Helen was his everlasting sun, the one thing that could shine brighter than the darkest depths of his haunting past. It only felt fitting to have his funeral set unconventionally early. It allowed for him to rise with the sun, with her.

You didn’t have it in you to move from your spot right at the front. You didn’t hold a ceremony, bitterly you wouldn’t know who to invite. It took his death for you to realize how truly little you were involved in the underground area of his life. 

You just stood and stared, no conversation needed to be imagined because you two were never really good with words. In your peripheral you watched as people you’ve never seen before came to say their goodbyes to John, paying you no mind.

The only time you broke your train of focus was to reunite with Dog. It was the first moment of genuine joy you’ve felt since you’ve lost John. It’s been two years since you’ve been separated from her and it was soothing to be able to hold her again after so long.

She curled up at your feet just like she used to, joining you in your mourning. Bowery King stood back to not interrupt. All minor peace was ruined with Winston’s gentle hand being placed on your shoulder.

He dragged you back to reality and suddenly it didn’t feel like something you could wake up from anymore. “He decided I was worth dying for… what if he made the wrong choice?”

It was hard to feel like you held an important part of his life when at his funeral you were the stranger that no one knew of. Someone he had so easily given up on. 

Winston’s grip on your shoulder tightened. “Johnathan has made a lot of mistakes in his life. Many.” Your eyebrows furrowed with effort as you tried to focus on the gravestone past the tears blurring your vision. “But acting as your father was never one of them.”

“That’s why his grave is marked with that.” He points to the head stone; Loving husband and father. “You were all he ever needed.”

You wish he was here to wrap you up in the safety of his jacket like he had before. “I’ve never had someone to miss this much before.”

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01 @commanderfreethatdust @wisepizzatart

#john wick father figure #platonic #john wick #john wick x fem!reader #john wick x you #john wick x reader #fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #fem reader #keanu reeves #john wick imagine #john wick one shot #john wick series #john wick 4 #arece drabbles #keanu reeves one shot #keanu reeves imagine #john wick drabbles #keanu reeves drabbles

[arece]

Okay maybe despite John’s sacrifices reader has become violent because of the grief. Caine said he would watch over her. Caine probably realize she got back into the business. It doesn’t have to be a physical fight but maybe some sort of verbal thing reader just reader yelling how much she misses John and how Caine killed him or something. What would Caine do? Would reader allow Caine to comfort her? Make that shit angstyyyy

Francis Forever

♤ Summary: It's easier to stick to what you've learned instead of moving on. The series

♤ Warnings: John Wick violence, swears, alcohol, reader avoiding therapy and choosing murder (like father like daughter).

♤ a/n: It has been so long and I'm so very sorry!!! On a brighter note, the lovely Mallorie has made a playlist for our favourite duo! (It had me sobbing, the title and slogan made my heart melt). Check it out, cry over it and lets all thank Mal for the inspo! Love you Mal! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2PNWum0VLYV9k8VYJu5ZRc?si=7uTnEbr0R3CV1TxWXr1Svg

Without further ado... enjoy some angst!

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The first time you broke the sacrifice John made for you was the first time he was mentioned. You had become a shell of the little girl you both used to know, an angry violent woman who couldn’t help but to blame everyone.

You avoided Winston as his new hotel was being built, the hotel that was only being built thanks to John’s death. Dog became your sole companion, joining you the few times you dared to venture out. John had left you all that was his, you had scoffed to avoid crying - he really did plan on dying since the very start.

You didn’t work, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. How cruel you thought it was, for John to teach you the only thing you were good at just to rip it all away from you in the name of protecting you.

You drank. A lot. Not too much to raise enough concern for Winston to come drag you back to wherever he was, but enough for one to consider it a minor hobby. Your chosen bar was one frequented by those of the underworld.

It was comforting in a way, a reminder of home. You were nursing your first drink of the night, drowning in self-pity when you overheard a conversation from two Russian men sitting beside you.

“Baba Yaga is gone, the Ruska Roma is a threat no more.” The burlier one smirked, chugging down the rest of his beer.

“Don’t be a fool. They did not rely on him and what of the child? Just because the Table forgets her does not mean she isn’t a threat.” 

“The Likho? He failed and she will meet his end.”

You finished off the rest of your drink with a sigh, standing and smashing your glass off the side of the counter. The attention of the entire bar was brought to you, the shocked silence only being broken to react.

You threw the sharpened glass straight into the neck of the larger man. His hands flew to his neck, holding tightly as he gurgled on his own blood. The second guy looked to his friend before pouncing after you.

Expecting it, you ducked under his grip, turning to slam his head against the bar’s counter top. You didn’t want him dead, too many bodies trailing after all that happened would be too suspicious. Knocking him out will have to do.

You shoved him back against the bar, his neck at a weird angle as you held his head in a lock. Once he was unconscious you released his body to the floor, throwing a hundred dollar bill for the damages.

“What are you doing?” The bar owner called after you in indignation.

“Trying to meet his end.” You didn’t even bother to wipe the blood off of your hands, it no longer phased you. You’d have to get your knife back from John’s grave.

-

Since then the trail grew, nearly reaching double digits. Technically you weren’t doing any kind of job, purely from your own will. If you kept going at the rate you were, the Table would force you back in, erasing everything John did.

You almost couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Caine had settled down with his daughter, their reunion going better than he could’ve ever anticipated. He explained the few things he could to her, why he had to leave her and how he managed to come back.

It was a late afternoon when he first heard the rumors of the Likho being active for the first time since the death of the Baba Yaga. He knew what that meant and knew it was time for him to keep his word.

“I know I said I wouldn’t leave again-” He was cut off by his daughter kissing his cheek. A soft and understanding smile painted her face as she hugged him tightly. “I have my father, she doesn’t. She needs you, go.”

He was quick to travel to New York, ready to do anything to keep you safe. He found your place thanks to Winston, who was beyond worried. He had tried to reach out to you but was met with hostility.

“Who are you to say anything? You used his death to get a fucking hotel!” He left with you looking ready to stab him and Dog growling nearby.

He sat on your armchair, white cane leaning on the back. He heard you unlock your door and remove Dog’s leash. Dog was quick to sniff him out, standing defensively as she barked at him. You tensed, jaw clenching at the sight of him.

“Caine. Thought you’d be off with your daughter,” the last word sounded choked, like it was a struggle for you to even pronounce. 

“I have some other obligations to attend to, she is aware.” He wouldn’t speak on his promise to John, something he was sure would turn you against him. Your current state reminded him of a lost puppy.

One that had been harmed too many times to function properly, to truly hold any trust in anyone. “I don’t see how that brings you to my place.”

You zero in on his hand, catching a glint from his palm, “give it back.” He opened his hand showing the gold coin. The gold coin that held all your worth, that John took you for, that you had to hunt The Doctor down to retrieve.

“So you can use it to get back in?” He scoffed, “after all that John gave up for you.” You flexed your hand before reaching to grab it back but he expertly dodged you.

“For me? He died for you,” you tried to hide your tears behind anger, choosing to act violently by shoving Caine out of your chair. He recovered easily, sliding away from you with the coin still in hand. 

“You were his daughter, he’d do anything to protect you.” How dare he come here to lecture you about your choices, defending the man who made decisions that led you here. You faked lunging for him, swiftly kicking out his leg from underneath him.

He grabbed onto you, using the momentum to send you falling instead. “How could he have seen me as a daughter? He was willing to leave me behind so you could be with yours!” You desperately clawed at his hand as you began to cry.

You were conflicted, emotions contradicting and betraying you. You wanted to defend him, justify everything he’s ever done but at the same time you hate him for what he did. You missed him and would do anything to have him back.

Caine was confused as he listened to your sobs over the coin. He loosened his grip, letting it fall from his and into your hands. You held it to your chest tightly, curling in on yourself like the desperate child you still were.

“It’s mine. He only took me because of this.” Caine kneeled down to the ground next to you. He laid a hand on your shoulder, slowly pulling you into a side hug when you didn’t flinch away.

“No, the coin only brought you to him. I’d die in an instant to keep her safe. John was wrong in the way only a father could be, he was wrong for you.”

Those words stuck with you. Each time you felt yourself slipping you remind yourself of his faults and how he willingly did them for you. John Wick was never perfect and you couldn’t hold him to that standard.

He was a loving father who did all that he could to love and care for his daughter. Baba Yaga and Likho were a mask, an illusion for two lost people who managed to discover each other in a twisted painful time.

You loved him and freed him in a way he never thought would be possible for him to have. He wanted to return that for you. It was time to let go of that part others created and instead treasure the him that was solely for you. Your John Wick.

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01

#john wick 4 #john wick chapter 4 #john wick caine #john wick father figure #john wick x fem!reader #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick #platonic #keanu reeves x reader #fanfic #john wick imagine #john wick one shot #arece drabbles

[arece]

hii love!

could i request john x reader (platonic ofc) within the perfect storyline that you created?

ive always wondered what happened to aurelio when the reader thought he abandoned her while he was just trying to protect her. maybe they have met after john died and he apologized and maybe reader forgives him??? i just need to know he is not the bad guy 😭

thank youu

It'll All Work Out

♤ Summary: Reader gets closure she never knew she needed from Aurelio. The series

♤ a/n: You're right my dear anon, he was never the bad guy. Reader was just a baby who needed someone to blame at the time. This one's really short but it has a bittersweet tone that I love and I hope you enjoy it too!

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You ended up staying in Berlin for three months, learning all that you could from those in the Ruska Roma about John’s childhood. You decided that it was time to go back when you realized the first year death anniversary was fast approaching.

Though you could use the comfort of your new family, you’d never forgive yourself if you weren’t with him on the day. You wanted to do something special for him, some part of you hoping he sees your gift from wherever he is.

You took Dog’s leash off, letting her rub against his headstone as you reached for the packet in your pocket. You sprinkled the wildflower seeds around his and Helen’s graves, giving them something that would come back each year, never leaving them.

You were moving the knife he gifted you back into place when you heard steps behind you, quick to turn you held it threateningly before becoming shocked at the person you never expected to see in front of you.

“Aurelio?” You faltered before dropping the knife completely. The man gave an awkward, unsure smile, “look at you, not so little anymore.” You stood from the ground, calming Dog with a pet as she watched him anxiously.

“That’s what seven years does.” He winced at your blunt tone and you felt bad, not intending for him to feel guilty. By now you’ve grown to realize why he had sent you away. “Look I-”

“It’s okay, Aurelio. I don’t blame you, you saved my life by bringing him to me.” It seemed he’d been carrying the guilt for a while by the way he slightly got choked up. He cleared his throat, stepping beside you to look at his grave.

“Loving father, huh?” For once the tears that stung at your eyes weren’t from a place of pain, rather one of remembrance, something you thought you had surely lost three months prior. “He was the best one I could’ve ever asked for,” you turned towards him, “I was too lost before to thank you.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” The sarcastic snort you let out had him raising an eyebrow, “I was a mess.” You explained to him your journey with grief for the past year, struggling to move on and almost falling back into the underworld, your panic with forgetting, your arguments with Caine and Winston.

“Why do you have to find someone to blame?” It startled you slightly, how easily he revealed to you another direction your grief was driving you to. If it wasn’t yourself, it was Winston or Caine. Why did you need someone to put at fault?

“I don’t want to be angry at him.” Aurelio sighed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, still seeing you as that feisty fourteen year old who had a talent for stealing. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

For the first time you allowed yourself to seek comfort from somebody that wasn’t John, from the man who had also chosen to let you go to protect you, a recurring theme it seems. “You seem different. Like him.” The passive comment brought a smile to your face, reminding you how Katia told you he lived on through you. You were glad that someone saw it too.

“Do you have any regrets?” He asked. You thought back to all the pain, loneliness, confusion, grief. But you also thought back to when you were loved. That made it all worth it ten times over, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

You called Dog over to put her back on her leash, inviting Aurelio out for a memorial lunch for John. He agreed, stepping back to allow you room for your goodbyes. You leaned forward, softly kissing his grave, “I’m doing better now.”

With a parting touch you left feeling more fulfilled after gaining closure, healing a wound that had added to your suffering, one that now left a scar, a memory.

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight  @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01

#john wick father figure #platonic #john wick #john wick x fem!reader #john wick x you #john wick x reader #fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #fem reader #keanu reeves #arece drabbles #john wick one shot #john wick imagine #john wick chapter 4 #john wick 4 spoilers #keanu reeves one shot #keanu reeves imagine

[arece]

hiiii i'm officially requesting something with reader and Akira, please give me that sweet sweet wlw love, i'll accept literally anything, although i do think it would be interesting if it started out more enemies-ish to lovers, because Cain said he'd keep an eye on reader, right?? and then in the movie Akira told John either he'd kill Cain or she would, sooooo i think that gives way to something interesting idk just an idea

also idk about you but i'd be down for poly icon reader, like, between her, Nobody, and Akira, two thirds are still officially part of the underworld, who cares about conforming to monogamy when they could die any day. but maybe that's just me though

i loved the story so much!!! can't wait for any more snippets in this au!

♤ a/n: This request had me absolutely losing it. For now I just kept it Akira and reader, BUT if you were to request the poly separately I'd check it out *hint hint*! other works here

♤ warnings: John Wick violence, swears, reader finding it hot when a woman tries to kill her

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

It hadn’t been long after John’s death for Caine to stay true to his word and visit you. You avoided Winston for a bit, deciding to stay on your own for a while. You were sure that if any reminders of John were to appear you’d lose it. You wondered if there would ever be a point where it didn't ache so much.

How funny it was for someone who was in your life for such a short amount of time managed to have such an impact.

Perhaps you were a bit lonely but you had Dog. You welcomed Caine into your apartment, albeit a bit weary, unknowing of his parting assurance he made John. You didn’t blame him for what happened, he did the same thing as John. They were both not only willing to kill, but to die for their daughters.

He confessed to you that he was anxious to meet his daughter, that it had been so long since he’d last seen her he feared that she wouldn’t forgive him, would not want to know him. You advised him to take it slowly.

Suggesting that eventually he should tell her the truth. He immediately protested but you cut him off, “if you hide this from her she’ll be able to tell, she’ll never trust you.” He sighed, removing his glasses for a moment to rub a hand over his face.

“I don’t want her involved with the underground world, that was the whole point of me doing what I did.” You held your breath, trying really hard to not think of him. It wasn’t the time. “Speaking of it cautiously won’t drag her into it, if anything it’d be best to warn her, to give her a full chance to decide herself if it’s worth the risk of knowing you.”

Perhaps it was cruel, but it was the truth. A truth Caine needed to hear telling by the saddened yet understanding look on his face. “I can come if you think that’d help.” He slightly nodded, the barest hints of hesitation showing. Looks like you’re going back to France. Great.

-

“Is that her?” You saw a pretty young girl, your age if not slightly younger, playing the violin on the streets. She was really good, the beautiful melody entrancing a crowd of people. Caine was transfixed, distracted by the idea he was about to meet his daughter again.

You however, were still on guard. That’s how you noticed the fast approaching figure of a woman, switchblade held tightly in her hand. As she passed by aiming for Caine’s side, you gripped her by her wrist, slowly pulling her close in a way that wouldn’t capture the attention of the people on the crowded street.

Caine didn’t seem surprised and that was enough for you to infer this was the Akira he told you about, the one he said was only a matter of time before she showed to seek revenge for her father. “Go,” you told Caine, holding on despite her trying to get you to let go.

He stayed back for a minute before making his way over to his daughter, bouquet in hand. “Don’t make the same mistake as my father.” The warning seemed to fly right past her, instead her interest stook to your confession.

“John Wick’s daughter? Heard he died, one less person on my list.” You ignored her attempt to anger you, still trying to reason with her. “You’d make another girl suffer our pain?” You both were two sides of the same coin; one starving for the revenge of her father, the other having no one to blame as everyone at fault already died.

“She doesn’t know him.” You twisted her by her arm, pulling her back to your chest, forcing her to watch as Caine hugged his daughter tightly. “Choose to reenact your revenge plot another day, he’s meeting his daughter now.”

A passer-by caught your eye, staring at you two suspiciously. You rested your head on her shoulder in an attempt to make your back hug seem more casual, “people are looking.” Your hand still held onto her wrist with the blade.

“Everything he touched died, it’s a miracle he didn’t take you down with him.” That hit a sore spot, nearly having you see red. You twisted her wrist before she could even think about doing anything except hissing in slight pain.

Now you held her knife threateningly at her side, “knives are kinda my thing, just thought you should know next time for a fair fight.” You pulled away, walking slightly backwards. “This isn’t over,” she seethed.

“It is for now,” you confirmed. You're pretty sure you made yourself a new enemy, a fun one at that. You made your way over to Caine and his daughter, kindly introducing yourself and helping him explain what he’s been doing for the last few years.

-

Caine’s daughter was weary understandably, but also extremely understanding. She was beyond lovely and invited you and Caine to stay with her for a while. You had tried to resist, not wanting to intrude on their re-bonding time but she had insisted. How could someone ever say no to her, you’d never understand.

You took walks often, an excuse to allow the two some privacy. It was on one of those walks that you were dragged by your hoodie into the back alley. Pushed up against a wall with a knife held up to your neck. “I’m starting to think you got a thing for me.”

Akira pushed the blade further against your neck, nicking just below the spade scar on the side of your neck. She looked at it curiously before stepping back slightly, “why do you keep getting in my way? I warned your father, he kills him or I will.”

You casually pushed her hand down, sliding out of the alley and continuing your walk with her trailing after you. “Technically my dad tried, duels are a tricky thing.” She didn’t find that funny, tossing the knife at you, missing your head by an inch.

You pulled it from the brick wall it landed in, admiring the craftsmanship before pocketing it with the murmur of, “finders keepers.” Akira’s frustration grew at your casual attitude, once again shoving you against a wall.

Your head slightly knocked against it and you winced, “your dad didn’t want you to kill him. So, are you really doing this for him or yourself?” Akira looked away, you could tell it was her attempt to look strong, avoiding showing her emotions. “He’s dead.”

You softly grabbed her hand, “they both are. Revenge is what brought us here in the first place, don’t force another person into this life out of grief.” She sniffed, squeezing your hand before roughly pulling away.

“Him living is on you, if I come to regret it you will be the one to pay.” You watched as she stepped back, the knife she stole back from you in her hand. You couldn’t help but grow fond of her for that. “I’ll count on it. You can visit me for other reasons too, though.”

She scoffed but you saw the smile she tried to fight back appear on her face. She was a dangerous killer, one who would happily add you to her long trail of taken lives. A woman after your own heart.

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @tamnight @hesvoid34 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01

#john wick 4 spoilers #john wick 4 #akira #akira john wick #akira x reader #akira x fem!reader #w/w romance #one shot #arece drabbles #john wick father figure

[arece]

hi! this isn't really a request but I was wondering if you had a playlist or any songs you associate with your heart to heart universe. I just strongly love the idea of John being a good father figure. I'm fueled by your content lol. I hope you're well 🫂💕

♤ a/n: You don't understand, this has me shaking in excitement. If a whole playlist is wanted I'll gladly make it. These are picked based off of how fitting I feel the lyrics are, though it might be kinda like a spoiler??? So, JOHN WICK 4 SPOLIER HERE DO NOT PROCEED! heart to heart masterlist

John Wick:

Remember Me, Coco:

Remember me, don’t let it make you cry

For even if I’m far away, I hold you in my heart

Know that I’m with you the only way that I can be

Until you’re in my arms again

Remember me

This Old Dog, Mac DeMarco:

As long as I live, all I’ve got to say is

This old dog ain’t about to forget

All we’ve had

Slipping Through My Fingers, ABBA:

The feeling that I’m losing her forever

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Then when she’s gone, there’s that old melancholy feeling

And a sense of guilt I can’t deny

Sparks, Coldplay:

Did I drive you away? 

But I promise you this

I’ll always look out for you

Look After You, The Fray:

It’s always half and never whole

You’ve begun to feel like home

What’s mine is yours to make your own

Reader:

Motion Sickness, Phoebe Bridgers:

I hate you for what you did

And I miss you like a little kid

Scott Street, Phoebe Bridgers:

Do you feel ashamed

When you hear my name?

I Want You, Mitski:

But I want you

You’re coming back

And it’s the end of the world

We’re starting over

Francis Forever, Mitski:

I don’t know what to do without you

I don’t need the world to see that I’ve been the best I can be

I don’t think i can stand to be

Where you don’t see me

First Love/Late Spring, Mitski:

Lately, I’ve been crying like a tall child

So please, hurry, leave me, I can’t breathe

Please don’t say you love me

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taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x fem!reader #john wick father figure #john wick imagine #john wick one shot #arece drabbles #arece writes #plationic #song association

[arece]

So………lolz you already expected this BUT whats readers background? How did she meet Aurelio? Layer on that angst

Seven

♤ Summary: How reader came to be. The masterlist

♤ Warnings: Implied domestic and child abuse, but no explicit details.

♤ a/n: I may be slow but I am working through these requests. I kinda like how this one turned out, back on my angst shit. (1.3k)

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

If I ever were to lose you

I’d lose-

No. 

Try- try and sometimes…

The words were slowly escaping you.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

You were sprinting as fast as your small legs allowed you to, giggling as you stared straight ahead you, could almost imagine you were flying. Slowly you rose your arms from your sides, shrieking in glee as you nearly felt yourself begin to float. 

“My bumbling little bee!” You were scooped up into the arms of a woman, her face forever blurred in a way you’d never be able to recall, but the safety she radiated would forever be imprinted in your mind. 

She let you go, hand caressing over your head. Kneeling down to your height she held you close by your arms, a nervous smile fluttering from her lips, “and how much did you collect today?” 

You brightened, digging into your little pockets and pulling out three wallets. You watched as she took them, carefully scanning through the contents of each. “Did I do good?” So eager for her praise.

“The best. Are you sure you’re not an actual pirate?” She playfully scanned you over. You giggled, shaking your head as if just the thought was so silly, “no, I was just playing!”

She scooped you back up, heading in the direction of a daunting house that suddenly turned your colourful little world into melancholy shades of gray. “Well, you had me fooled, busy bee.”

⋯��⋯♧⋯♢⋯

You sat in your room, fiddling around with your toy sword as the sun began to set. A rumbling could be heard in the distance, you stood from your spot on the floor and looked out the window. Outside was the car that held the monster, the one that always played hide and seek with you.

The woman came rushing into your room, she looked more frazzled than earlier, hair out of place and her eyes containing distress. “Come on now, bee. Time for hide and seek.” You grabbed her hand as she led you over to the slightly rotted closet, hidden by an oddly placed bookshelf.

She sat you inside, trying to get you comfortable with the mountain of blankets, pillows, books, and a flashlight you collected from your multiple games. “He’s not very good, I hide in the same place every time and he never finds me.”

The woman stopped her frantic movements, looking at you for a moment before brushing her thumb over your cheek, “and he never will.” Distantly you heard the door open with a heavy thud. She swiftly kisses your forehead before shutting you in the closet.

She claims that she’s giving you a head start. She’s really good at it because you stay here all night until he gives up in the morning.

You click on the flashlight, weary of the dark. Shattering echoes throughout the walls followed by a loud roar. You remember the times you’ve met the monster; he’d show up during the day before your game.

He didn’t like you, you made too many mistakes. You broke too many things, said the wrong things, were too loud. This is why you had to hide, you couldn’t bother the monster, couldn’t let him find you.

You hid your head under the pillows to drown out the screams, eventually able to fall asleep in your little haven.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

Out in the fields your head laid on the woman's lap. She was lost in thought while your twirled bright green blades of grass between your fingers. You plucked two, tying the ends together as you looked up at her distorted face.

“I think our house is haunted.” She blinked twice, switching to lean back on a single hand as she brought the other to poke at the tip of your nose before resting against your cheek. 

You pulled the ends too roughly, snapping it apart. The two strands were slowly carried into separate directions by the wind. “Why do you think that?”

“At night there’s lots of noises. The monster’s extra angry, that’s probably why.” You casually turned back to playing with the grass, missing the bitter sadness that tainted her expression.

She pulled you up from her lap, forcing you to face her. “You can’t tell anyone about our haunted house.” Her lips pressed together a new wave of determination settling into her disposition.

“Why?” you had naively tilted your head to the side. For the first time ever the comfort and safety you felt with her was cut, the same fear you were used to facing with the monster blossomed. 

Her expression grew wild as she slightly shook you by the shoulders, “you just can’t, cross your heart that you won’t.” You tried to move back but the grip she held onto you with wouldn’t release you.

“Okay,” you cried out, “I won’t tell anyone, cross my heart!” Suddenly she let you go and you scooted back, slightly curling in on yourself. Your eyes grew glassy and your bottom lip began to quiver.

She saw the error in her panic and immediately pulled you into a hug, brushing a hand over your head to hold you closer. She whispered profuse apologies, shushing your sniffles as you wiped at your runny nose.

“I’m sorry. I love you, my bumbling bee.” She poked at your sides, receiving a high pitched screech that melted into delighted giggles.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

For weeks you haven’t had to play your game of hide and seek. She says that the monster left and he wouldn’t be back. The house felt lighter. You enjoyed getting to sleep in your bed, her tucking you in with the melodic whispers of her lullaby. You slept that night comfortably, a doll wrapped tight in your grasp, safe in your brighter home. 

The familiar roar woke you up, immediately you buried yourself back under your blankets before remembering you weren’t in your hiding spot - he’d find you. You swiftly crawled out of bed, prepared to make a run for it before the woman bursted in, closing the door behind her and moving furniture to cover it.

“I have to go to the closet!” You yanked at her leg to get her attention. She carefully pulled you off of her before moving to a bag, placing some of your things into it. “No more hide and seek, now we only play pirates.”

She brought over a sweater, wrapping you into it tightly before securing the bag over your shoulders and handing you your doll. “What do you mean?” You asked, finally noticing her puffy eyes and angry red cuts scattered along her face.

“Today you leave the house and you never come back. You run and you be a pirate to survive - a real pirate.” Her breaths were unsteady and you could see her hands begin to shake. You grab onto the hand as she moves over to the room's window.

“What about you?” She opens the window and a gush of cold air wafts around you. “The monster’s very strong, he’ll always find us so I have to stay. You have to go, I’ve never been really good at hide and seek.”

She lifts you over the window, your feet plopping onto the ground as she helps you jump over. She kisses your forehead as she bites off a whimper, “you do what you have to and survive. Give them all hell.”

The door starts to bend underneath the weight of the monster’s banging, she looks over her shoulder before focusing back on you with a new sense of urgency. “I love you, little bee. Now go and don’t look back.”

You begin to run off, once again gliding. Behind you she mutters, “someone save my baby.” A silent prayer before accepting her fate and facing the monster behind the door.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

It’s been a few years since you’ve been playing pirate, successfully surviving off of your skill for stealing. The one time you messed up would soon turn into a blessing in disguise.

“You're pretty crafty, street rat.”

You can’t remember her face, but you remember her comfort and how she saved you. You’d carry that love she held for you forever.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

If I ever were to lose you,

I’d surely lose myself.

⋯♤⋯♧⋯♢⋯

Taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @tamnight  @hesvoid34 @scarletmeii @romanreignsluver1 @wi1steria @not-a-big-slay @howlerwolfmax @mizzy-pop @sarapaprikas-blog @angrykitsune01 @commanderfreethatdust @wisepizzatart

#john wick father figure #platonic #john wick #john wick x fem!reader #john wick x reader #john wick x you #fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #fem reader #keanu reeves #arece drabbles #john wick aurelio #readers origin #angst

[arece]

Do you have any headcanons for what it’d be like having Caine as essentially a father figure? I’m also really happy I’m not the only one who loves the idea of Caine being a father figure for the reader, so many possibilities!

In honor of procrastinating school work, here are my thoughts:

This is John Wick 4 spoilers so, answer below the cut!

For the sake of keeping this diverse, you aren't his birth child

maybe you're a friend of his daughter

maybe he discovered you on one of his missions for The High Table

maybe Vincent sent him to kill you over a petty grievance of some sort

maybe once he saw you, he saw his daughter in you

maybe for once he was conflicted on killing, even if it meant the safety of his daughter

maybe, because we know how protective he is, how he'll do anything for his family, he makes a sacrifice

maybe, just maybe, he offers his sight for your freedom with The High Table

maybe Vincent is so amused by the offer he eagerly takes it

maybe you feel intense guilt no matter how much Caine tries to reassure you it was every bit worth it

maybe you don't realize he sees you as his child, maybe you think of yourself as a temporary replacement for his daughter

maybe you secretly vow to do everything in your power to reunite him with his daughter as repayment for what he's done for you

maybe you don't realize that Caine wants you and his daughter together as a family, to be the siblings for each other that you never had

maybe Caine wants that because he knows in his line of work he's bound to die eventually and doesn't want to leave either of you alone, wants you two to have each other

maybe you attempt to sacrifice yourself to Akira for Caine so he doesn't have to die before seeing his daughter

maybe Caine has to physically fight you to prevent that from happening because he refuses to lose you, especially over something he's done

so many possibilities...

I hope that's what you're looking for! If not request more and I'll gladly answer!

#caine x reader #caine john wick #john wick 4 #john wick 4 spoilers #platonic #caine father figure #arece drabbles