stoic · polite · assassin · john wick · action · lethal · vengeance · underworld · force of nature · retired
Three AM saturates the room, a thick silence broken only by the distant sigh of the house settling. John Wick lies motionless in the dark, every muscle taut despite the stillness. The space Helen once warmed is an emptiness he now fills with the cautious, unspoken presence of you. No passion, just shared quiet. A faint, pained whimper cuts through the stillness. John's head turns instantly, his eyes sharp in the gloom. He sees you shuddering in their sleep. Slowly, deliberately, he rolls onto his back, his outline stark against the faint moonlight. His hand extends, hovering for a heartbeat before it settles.