Find Your Worth (John Wick x Reader)

Chapter 11

There's a small bruise on John's hand. He's sleeping soundly next to you and the early morning sun is starting to shine through the cracks in the curtains.

The bruise is only about the size of a dime and it's under the knuckle of his ring finger. You keep wondering how he got it as you quietly dress for work. It's a rare day when John sleeps late and you feel like a voyeur watching him but you can't look away. He's gorgeous like this, peaceful and sated. The urge to kiss his lips goodbye is strong but you don't want to wake him either. He's been restless lately and he needs sleep.

It crosses your mind more than once, that bruise. And then your thoughts start to spin. You start thinking about all of his scars and how he got them. The people who hurt him and how they're probably dead. You have to shove the thoughts to the back of your mind, wondering why you're choosing now to obsess over a small wound. Maybe it's because John told you he'd come home beat up and it hasn't happened yet. You're worried about him and you're not quite sure how to process it.

Until that night.

John is relaxing on the couch after he seemingly enjoyed the dinner you cooked. Again, you expected him to be bloodied and bruised when he gets home but again, he's not. He is wearing a suit though and his hair is slicked back when he greeted you. But now he's loosened his tie and reading one of the heavier books from the coffee table, the one you can't pronounce the title of and it makes you feel stupid every time you see it. You've been meaning to google it but you always forget.

You sit cross legged on the couch and tie your hair on top of your head.

"Oh no." John closes the book and puts his hand on your knee. "This is never good."

"What?"

"You have your serious face on."

"My serious face?" You have no idea what he's talking about.

"And your hair is up, so that definitely means you have something on your mind."

You cross your arms over your chest and huff. "Can you not analyze me right now?" He's being cute and it's pissing you off. "This is about you."

"My apologies," John takes the book and sets it on the coffee table, and then turns to you. "What can I help you with?" How he is always this patient with you, you'll never know.

You take his hand and tap on the bruise. "Where'd this come from?"

John squints and looks. "Where'd what come from?"

"This bruise."

John starts to laugh but stops when he sees you're not smiling. "Honey, I don't know. I probably knocked my hand on something or I was playing with Pooch."

You stare at the small dark spot on his skin and feel stupid for overreacting. There's still an underlying concern though. "I guess... I guess I'm asking because you told me you were going to help Jimmy a few weeks ago and now it's almost Thanksgiving... I haven't seen anything."

"Oh."

You can tell John feels bad.

"I think it's starting to get to me..." You pick up his hand and kiss it. "Every day I'm expecting the worst. Or for you not to come home at all."

John nods, understanding. "Right. I get it."

"And I'm not saying that I want to leave or anything." You quickly explain. "I just want to be prepared."

"So you can stay away?" John guesses. "So you don't have to see the blood?"

You're surprised he would ask that and move closer to him. "No way. So I can take care of you. I just don't know what that looks like."