Put Your Arms Around Me | John Wick x Reader (Oneshot)
Setting Prompt: There was only ONE BED
Words: 1644
Fandom: John Wick
A/N: This submission is pretty late, but I finally finished it. We made it through the first @writersmonth guys!
Summary: Takes place during Nobody Matters Like You. John shows up at your doorstep with a baby that he acquired from one of his tasks, not wanting to abandon her. This is the first night with the baby where you and John figure out the sleeping situation. Title inspired by Arms by Christina Perri
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Your arms were screaming in pain, but you didn’t know what to do. John was still out getting his things from his house, but you weren’t even sure if he’d know what to do, either. You paced around the kitchen slowly, your heart jumping each time the bundle in your arms stirred.
Why did John Wick choose you out of all people to look after a baby? Sure, you’d babysit before, but they were toddlers and preteens. Looking after his dog didn’t count, either. You wondered how his dog would be with a baby. You weren’t worried. He was a good boy that listens to John well.
The front door open and a happy pitbull rushed in, sniffing you out. His nails tapped on the linoleum floor as he spotted you, his tail wagging hard. He sat in front of you, nose in the air and catching a whiff of the new human in the house.
John walked in with a bag in hand and made his way over to the couch. He looked like he was about to collapse. You made your way over to him, his good boy close at your feet.
“Look, I know I freaked out when you brought the baby over, but if you’re… I don’t want to give you more stress than you already have. I think I’ll be fine,” you said softly, your arms adjusting your hold on said baby. John noticed this, extending his hands out, offering to take over in carrying the baby. You pulled away. “No, at least wash up first. Or a shower.”
He nodded, making his way over to your bathroom with his bag. His dog’s swiveled left to right, wondering if he should follow his human or stay with you and the tiny human. He made his decision when you sat on the couch, trying to figure out how to set the baby down without hurting her. He sat obediently by the couch watching over the two of you quietly. You shifted the baby’s weight to one side so you could free your right hand and adjust the baby blanket over the couch before painstakingly slowly setting her down.
When John came back, he wore a plain white shirt and gray sweatpants, his long hair damp from his shower. His dog turned his head to greet him, then turned back to the baby.
“He’s such a good boy,” you told John, scratching behind the dog’s ear.
“He really is,” John said, crouching over and petting him, his eyes drifting over to the baby as she slept.
“Dinner’s on the stove, in case you hadn’t eaten yet. There’s some spare dog food in the cabinet by the fridge from the last time he was here.”
John nodded, looking up at you. He hesitantly lifted his hand, but decided against it. “I couldn’t leave her there and… I’ve never had to… the conversation never really came up with us…” Us meaning John and Helen, you thought.
“It’s fine, John, really. I get it.”
John got up and headed over to the kitchen, the smell of dog food reaching the pitbull. He trotted over to his human who poured a bowl for him before making his own food. The baby began to squirm and grimace, being on the verge of crying.
“Oh, god, I think she pooped,” you mutter, scrambling for the diapers.
-
“What are you doing?” you asked as John was grabbing a pillow and blanket for the couch.
“You’re the one who told me that I should rest,” he said, sitting down.
“John, you’re a giant compared to that couch. Take the bed, I can take the couch,” you insisted, pulling at his arm to get up.
“I’ll take the couch,” John said firmly, refusing to budge.
“Jonathan,” you chastised.
“(Y/n).”
You stared each other down, waiting for the other to give in. The baby let out a small cry, not wanting you two to argue. You huffed, picking her up and taking her to the room, letting her down in her crib. John’s dog stared at the room door, then turned to John questioningly. He nodded, letting the dog join you as you readied for bed.
Lying on that small couch, John really should have listened to you, but he wasn’t about to take your bed away. Stretching out on his back, his legs would be propped on the opposite arm rest. Lying on his side, his legs would be crunched, his knees hanging off the couch. His body was already aching from his recent jobs that month and the cushions were helping.
He slowly sat up and grabbing his pillow, shuffling over to your room. His dog was sleeping by your feet, his ears perking up when he heard the door opening slightly. John quietly walked over to the side of the bed, the baby sleeping soundly in the crib next to you, your body facing her.
John pulled the covers down on the empty side of the bed and carefully slid under them as to not wake you and his dog. It was impossible, though. His dog, always on alert even when resting, immediately got up and snuggled between you and John, is tail wagging lazily before falling back asleep. John finally rest his head on your pillows, your scent enveloping him, the presence of his most trusted companions next to him, and the calmness of the night lulled him to restful sleep.
Until the baby started crying again, of course.
You groaned, swinging your legs off the bed to tend to her, cooing and bouncing her in your arms. You paused when you saw John on the bed, his eyes opened wide from the noise. You smiled at him apologetically.
“Go back to sleep. I’ve got this,” you assured him before making your way to the kitchen for her baby formula.
When you got back after feeding and burping her, John had gone back to sleep. You set her back in her crib then climbed into bed and went back to sleep.
-
You knew that you tend to hug your pillow when you sleep, but this pillow felt different. It was warm and firm and smelled like… oh no. You opened your eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the morning light leaking through the blinds. John’s breathing was calm and even, making you think that he was still sleeping. Should you try to move away or pretend that you were still sleeping until he wakes up?
“Did you sleep well?” John asked softly, his chest rumbling under you.
You jumped up, your cheeks heating up from being caught. “I, um, yes, I…” You turned around to look for the baby and saw that John had moved the crib to his side of the bed. When did he do that?
“I heard her starting to cry again so I decided to move her over and take care of it so you could sleep,” he said.
“Oh, thank you, I guess. Sorry about…,” You gestured to the space between you two, referring to your cuddling habit.
“It was fine,” he said, clearing his throat, “I hope you don’t mind me sharing the bed with you.”
“No, it’s fine… breakfast?” you asked, already climbing out of the bed and away from the temptation to snuggle next to him, turning away so you couldn’t see his messy bed hair and sleepy face.
“No thank you, I have to start heading out.”
“Oh,” was all you said, trying to keep your voice neutral to hide your disappointment.
“I’ll come back later, though,” he went on, “maybe get some more things for her.”
You nodded, washing up and got ready for the day. John waited until you took the baby to the kitchen to head to the bathroom. He leaned against the counter and sighed. He didn’t want to admit that after he checked on the baby and went back to bed, your arms immediately reached out and he let you latch onto him. He also didn’t want to admit that for a moment, his heartbeat picked up at this simple but intimate act, that you were unconsciously comfortable with him this close. And he definitely didn’t want to admit that once his heart calmed, the warmth of your body and the security of your arms made him feel relaxed and at ease. Like he was home.
John was fully dressed by the time he emerged from your room, looking around for his dog, figuring that he’d be with you. He followed the sweet sound of you and the baby giggling all the way to the kitchen where you had her in her high chair, trying to see if she would eat the puree baby food. John’s dog sat between you two, waiting for any food to drop.
You saw John standing at the kitchen entryway and smiled. “Forgot something?” you asked.
“Yeah, I just wanted to thank you again for this,” he said, looking over at the baby, then down at his dog, “You mind watching him?”
“Of course, John,” you said, putting the food down and walked over to him. You straightened out his suit and patted his chest. “He’s more welcomed here than you.”
John huffed at your jab, slapping your hand away. Your smirk turned into shock as he kissed the side of your head. He lingered there for a moment and you could feel him sigh before he pulled away.
“Be careful, John,” you said softly, knowing that he had to go back to being an assassin again, being the Boogeyman.
He grimaced. “I can’t promise you that, but I can try.”
“Close enough.”
With that, he turned and left. You walked back to the table and saw the baby and John’s dog looking at you expectantly. Your days are going to be a lot more busy now.
A/N: Late last minute post. Takes place before You Gave Me Something To Lose. Happy Birthday to Keanu!!!
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You scrambled to clean up the kitchen counter when you heard John’s car rolling into the driveway. Baby Joana giggled, hitting her cup against her high chair as you moved her to the side. You started to mutter incoherently as the car doors slammed shut, dragging the trash bin to the end of the table and swept the excess flour into it. John’s dog whined looking up at you then at the door.
“I know, sweetie, just distract him when he comes in,” you told him.
He padded his way over to the front door and sat patiently, his ears perking up as his human’s footsteps neared. Now you were just making panicking noises as John was unlocking the door, your brain short circuiting as you try to find a place to hide the used pans that you forgot to clean while you baked. You decided to shove them in the sink, rifling through the drawers for the finishing touches of your hard work.
“Hey, boy,” John greeted the pitbull, crouching down to pet him.
You mentally cursed, steadying your hands as much as you can before using the lighter. It’s not exactly a masterpiece, but at least it was presentable and edible. You’ve only had done this for your other friends, so you weren’t sure what John’s preference were as this was going to be a first with him practically living with you. What if it was too sweet? Or maybe he preferred chocolate?
The falling of shoes meant that John was about to head to the room to wash up, as per his usual routine of coming home. You paced yourself, breathing in slowly to calm down and finish lighting up the candles and cleaning the rest of the kitchen up. John had changed from his suit to a casual v-neck white shirt and jeans, making his way over to the smell of burning wax.
“What is all this?” John asked, stunned at the sight before him.
You quickly untied to apron and draped it over a kitchen chair, stepping forward with your fingers laced nervously. “Surprise!” you shouted awkwardly, “Happy birthday, John!”
Joana shouted, hitting her cup on the high chair, babbling.
John’s jaw dropped, walking closer to get a good look at the two-tier vanilla cake with vanilla frosting and decorative birthday candles on each tier. He suspected you avoided using chocolate because of his dog. He really didn’t expect to do anything for his birthday, only a quiet night home playing with his dog while you read to baby Joana.
Your nervousness grew the longer John remained silent. You cleared your throat, moving towards Joana and replacing her cup with a soft toy.
“Is… is this too much?” you asked.
John shook his head slowly. “I never expected this. Thank you,” he said, “You didn’t have to, (Y/n).”
“We need to celebrate your existence, Jonathan.”
“I hope you won’t start singing,” he joked.
You rolled your eyes. “Just blow out the candles, birthday boy.”
John chuckled, leaning down and blew the candles out. You cheered playfully as you held Joana’s arms, more for her benefit and teasing John, teaching her how to clap. John plucked the candles off the cake and gathered some frosting with his finger before licking it. You purse your lips disapprovingly when you caught him.
“It’s good,” he said as he pulled a chair over to sit next to Joana. You turned away to go grab some plates and utensils while he spoke to her. “Did you help make the cake for me, Joana?”
Joana giggled, wiggling around in her seat before scrunching up her face. John took that as a sign to change her diaper.
“No, I can do that. It’s your birthday,” you protested as John lifted Joana up.
“I want to do this,” he said, giving you a look telling you to let him be.
You backed off and watched as John took her to the room where you had set up her changing table. You went back to setting up the table and hovered over the cake with a knife, debating whether you should go ahead and cut it or wait for John.
Before you could call out, his gentle deep voice drifted from the room. He wasn’t talking to his dog, since he was sitting next to you, so he could only be talking to Joana. You hadn’t seen him interact with her with just the two of them. During the first week with Joana, you worried that he wouldn’t know what to do when she needed changing or feeding, but he always seemed to be doing fine.
You also worried how he was doing emotionally. He hadn’t explicitly talked about it, but it was there when he would look at her or when he watched you interact with her. You wondered what it would have been like if John had been a father, and he probably wondered as well. Would it have been better or worse this way? After the attack on his house shortly after Helen passed, it was likely better.
He stops talking once you were in the doorway. Joana was lying on her back with a fresh diaper on her. She blinked up at John, her limbs wriggling about. John scooped her up and turned to you.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“No, I was just wondering if you wanted to cut the cake now or go out and get something to eat,” you said, “I haven’t been able to cook anything, but there’s a nice restaurant in town, unless you want to stay in, we can order take-out and watch some movies.”
“You mean you forgot to cook,” John corrected, a teasing smile on his face as he walked passed you with Joana. You rolled your eyes. You hated how he knew you well. It was almost unfair, being how private he was about himself. “Take-out sounds good.”
-
The two of you watched a few noir classics while you ate take-out, moving on to dessert with you, John, and his dog having a piece. You were sat on the playing mat with Joana by John’s legs while he sat on the couch with his dog.
The rest of the evening continued like this, peaceful and quiet within your warm house that he grew to call home. His own house was merely a place where he stored his belongings, but slowly and surely, his things were left in your house. It was a stretch for him to retire from his life as an assassin, which was why it was made harder for him to leave. Being drawn back into the business, he had accepted the fact that maybe he wasn’t worthy of such a peaceful life. Who knew that this baby could grant him even an ounce of it.
John sensed a pair of eyes on him and saw you looking up from your spot. “What?” he asked.
You offered him a smile. “Happy birthday, John,” you said again, resting your chin on his knee, “I know I didn’t have to bake your cake, but I felt like I should. You could have left Joana here and pop in every now and then, but you didn’t. Honestly, this is the most I’ve seen you this month alone. It’s really good seeing you, John. Sometimes I worry when you’re out there.”
John brushed a strand of hair from your face and smiled back. When it looked like he wasn’t going to reply, you turned back to watching Bogie and Bacall on the screen.
Right. From all the running and the grieving, he finally stopped and looked at what he had. He had lived longer than he thought in order to grieve for Helen properly and he knew that she wanted him to be happy. She knew him too well, giving him something to care for. With Daisy gone, his previous house gone, and his car recently repaired after being stolen, he had gained three new things to care about; you, Joana, and his dog. His two best friends and a baby. You three are what motivates him to come home.
