One-Shot Collection - Keanu Reeves.

- 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝙒𝙞𝙘𝙠 -

/fluff warning/

"I'm home" a gruff voice calls from the other side of the house.

I finish wiping off the kitchen counter placing the spray bottle and cloth on the sparkling counter. Being John Wick's maid wasn't an easy job, but it paid well. Very well. Like muscle memory, I make my way to one of the many cabinets, grabbing the safety kit. I can hear John's footsteps growing closer to the kitchen, paired with the odd grunt or groan. Even before seeing him I can tell he's in pretty bad shape. He never usually groans unless he's really hurt. As I turn around, I come face to face with John. He leans against the island, hunched over.

My eyes fall to his chest, his once white shirt now drenched in his red blood. My eyes falter to his face, a big gash covering his face. I rush over to the counter, silently sitting him down on one of the island stools. "Jesus John" I mutter under my breath, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt. He shed's off his suit jacket and shirt, quickly exposing his bare chest. Three bullet wounds dress his chest, one in his side, his shoulder, and arm. My eyes widen, hands starting to find the needed tools to fix him up.

"John, this might be out of my skill set, you are seriously hurt" I begin, his eyes moving to meet mine. His dark mocha orbs burn holes into mine, a brooding look hanging on his face. "I'm going to die if you don't try" he grunt, breath shallow. He's losing a lot of blood. I take a cloth from the kit, drenching it in rubbing alcohol. I bring in to his multiple wounds, his breath hitching at the sting each time. My heart beats in my chest as I start to give stiches, the needle between my fingers shaking every so often. After a few minutes, his chest wounds are dealt with, the skin stained with blood and decorated in stiches.

I bring the once white cloth to his face, healing his last cut along his face. His eyes stare at me as I delicately brush disinfectant along his cheek. "I don't pay you enough for what you do" John says, his tone flat and brooding. I can't help but let out a laugh, not sure if he is joking or not. "John, I think you should be worrying over almost dying and not how much you pay me" I retort, switching the cloth for a bandage. "Hold still" I add, peeling the cover off the bandage. He obeys, giving me a moment to apply the bandage. I pull away, examining my hands. The skin is tinted a red from the blood, sitting under my finger nails. I ignore the pink tint, picking up the blood covered shirt and jacket up off the floor.

I move to the trash can, dumping the clothes. "Those were expensive" John says, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. I roll my eyes, smiling. "Oh, I'm sure you would have loved to wear those again. I heard blood stains and rips were in fashion" I joke, grabbing pain medication from a drawer. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, bringing it to John. I have to admit, ever since he hired me we have had chemistry. I don't know if he just has a soft spot for me since I always seem to save his life, but behind closed doors he's a different person. No matter how bad the day or the wound, he never fails to give me those soft brown eyes and odd joke.

I move back over to where he's sitting, brushing debris and dirt off his hair. He watches my hand, eyes softening like butter. "Thank you" he says, watching my hand drop to my side. "for?" I ask, eyes fixed on him. "Fixing me up" he re-iterates. I nod, eyes gazing off. I tuck a loose strand from my blonde bun behind my ear, picking the cloth and spray bottle back up. I turn around to attend back to cleaning, quickly halting as he grabs my wrist. I turn my head around, coming face to face with his chest. He now stands, towering over me by a few inches. I can feel my heart practically rip through my chest, racing.

"John?" I ponder, feeling his body grow closer and closer to me. I furrow my brows, confused and perplexed at his sudden close movements. He opens his mouth to say something, quickly shutting it with a sigh. His hand cups my cheeks, bringing me closer to him. He leans in so his breath is against my face, eyes searching mine. Before I can say anything, his lips are on mine. He kisses me with a fiery passion, not daring to kiss softly. My mind draws a blank, giving into his touch. I drop the cleaning supplies to the floor, wrapping my hands around his neck. I give into his touch, knowing full well I've wanted this kiss for a while.

He pulls away for air, his top lip brushing my nose. Our chests heave ever so slightly, a smile painted on my face like a fool. "No, thank you, I mean it" he says against, kissing the top of my head. I sigh calmly under his warmth, my eyes fluttering shut. Something in me breaks down, instantly pulling him into a hug. He does a double-take, shocked at the warm grasp around him. He finally settles into the hug, groaning when I squeeze too tight against the stitches. I pull away, gasping. "Shit, sorry" I apologize. He waves it off, hugging me again.

I needed this.