Keanu Reeves/ John Wick one shots

Love Me (Not) Pt.4

John Wick x Reader

One plane ride and several glasses of wine later, Y/n had made it to London. She had checked into the Continental, but reception wouldn't tell her where John's room was. Something about privacy issues. That meant she would just have to settle for the next best thing, lingering in the public spaces until their paths crossed.

By the next night, sitting at the bar, eyes trained on the doorway, Y/n was beginning to think that John was avoiding her. Why else would she not have seen him by now? Her fingers were loosely circled around a glass of cognac, occasionally bringing it to plum stained lips. Her darkened gaze grew tired but never blurred as the night wore down. Eventually, by some twisted miracle, John entered the bar, dressed in his usual suit, hands in his pockets, head down as he slowly walked to the bar. Even from where she was sitting, Y/n thought he looked so vulnerable, so hurt. When they were together, he always looked younger than he actually was, but now, it looked as if he had aged a couple years. Y/n hated that she was probably the reason, and that she looked no better. They now appeared the parts of the broken people that they were. 

She didn't know if John had seen her at the bar and had purposefully take a seat on the opposite end or if he actually didn't know that she was there. Y/n didn't sit there long enough to find out. 

As she slid of the wooden barstool, Y/n stumbled a little, but quickly found her footing as she crossed the room, her heels clicking quietly against the marble floors. She'd always hated how the London Continental's lounge was not as lively as the on in New York, no live performances, no dancers, nothing but quiet patrons and polite staff. Tonight, unlike every other time that she had been here though, Y/n was grateful for the quiet. That way he could hear her when she call out to him, "Jardani," she called softly.

There weren't a lot of people that called him by his birth name, and legally or however you looked at it in their world, officially, his name was Jonathon. In fact, he usually hated being called by his birth name, the memories weren't the best and somehow, the people who did use it, sometimes pronounced it wrong. She never did though.

Y/n had never used the name often, only in the most intimate of moments, and there were so few of those. Then again, with her, there may never be enough. The word usually fell of Y/n's lips so beautifully that John, even just for a minute, could forget every bad thing that had happened in the past. "Jardani," she had said, so softly, so perfectly that one might assume that she had an accent. Right now he didn't think that though, what John did think was he had finally drunk himself to madness. He was hallucinating, he had to be.

He didn't turn around, he just scoffed, downing the rest of his drink. Ever since they had broken up, he had heard her voice lingering in his head, a broken record that was beginning to be almost painful to hear. In John's head, she had called him by that name thousands of times, all while running her nimble fingers through his hair. But tonight, it was different. It felt real, like Y/n was actually behind him, her voice caressing his ear, the most comfort that he had experienced in months. Or maybe it was torment. John didn't know. 

It sound so real. Because it was. Behind him, Y/n's shoulders slumped at his response, or lack there of. She only had a fraction of an idea of what it meant to John when she called him that, but what she did know was that he liked it. After all, he never stopped her. In fact, when she did, his response was usually a soft, barely visible but no less genuine smile that she didn't know was reserved just for her. 

When all John did was huff, Y/n reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, he grabbed her wrist in a death grip, turning around and as a result tugging her closer to him. At the sight of her, the anger in his eyes dissipated, replaced with shock. He didn't release her, but his hold slacked. Y/n could have easily pulled her hand away, but she didn't. She didn't want to.