Reader is the daughter of John Wick.
Warning: Violence, fluff, etc.
“Dad,” your voice was soft, guilt ridden. Almost barely audible, but it was enough to open his eye’s. John groaned slightly, raising his head from his pillow and blinking the blurry gaze leaving his eye’s. He could see his bedroom door cracked open, like it always was, it kept the dimmed sounds across the house susceptible to his own ears at all times. He fought the urge to reach for his own pistol, the one he always left on his dresser, but he found no need upon seeing the familiar feather patterned sweat pants you always wore to bed.
As his eye’s adjusted, he could make out your face in the darkness, your left hand still on the door, awaiting the permission to be allowed inside.
“(Y/n),” his voice was gravelly, but comforting as he extended his hand in a welcoming gesture, his tone coated in worry. You didn’t miss a beat, he could see the sliver of a smile come across your lips as you moved swiftly over to the bed.
His eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed, he moved to the right slightly to give you space to cuddle next to him under the covers before he wrapped his arm around you. Your arm’s encircle his torso, your fingers scraping against the raised skin of his scars beneath his regular, white t-shirt.
John let your head rest on his right arm, which was wrapped around to your shoulder, he didn’t have to ask what happened, what you had seen. The both of you had been going through the same thing for a few weeks now, he still remembered the first night where you had come sobbing at his bedside. An invite was never needed, although you seemed insistent on asking everytime, being a former hitman, John was more than capable of waking at the slightest touch or sound with a gun in hand.
You weren’t afraid, he was sure of that. You had gone into the family business as well, being a close friend of Winston, had gotten you a job working with The Continental. John Wick’s daughter, an assassin like him, despite only having trained for a few years with her father. You didn’t have the experience as he did however, your first kill had haunted you the first few nights, but with your father’s help, it wasn’t a process you had to face alone.
John settled his cheek atop your head, his eyes scanning the room as if looking for something before catching the sight of a moving blur of white and brown across the floor. He breathed a small, pleased sound before Daisy, a small beagle puppy, struggled her way up onto the bed. Her small paws made its way on top of you, causing the both of your heads to raise and a smile to split your lips.
“Hi, Daisy,” you cooed quietly, the puppy nipped your outstretched finger playfully making you giggle. She waddled her way up into the middle of you both, licking the side of John’s face making you laugh. John allowed it for a few seconds before shaking his head as he sat up alittle and settled daisy on the bed as he shifted.
You leaned your head back on the pillow, a faint smile on your lips, your fingers tenderly stroking Daisy’s head. The puppy calmed and rested it’s head on your belly, her eyes drifting closed tiredly. John laid his head down once more, his eyes on the gentle rise and fall of the beagle beside him and you.
“I’m really glad you decided to retire, dad,” he heard you say suddenly, his eyes fell from the dog to look at you. You were looking at him, a gentle smile on your face, he could now see the glisten of tears on your face.
John reached a hand out, wiping the side of his daughters face with a stroke of his thumb. “It’s good to be home for a change,” he said, nearly wincing at his choice of words. The work of an assassin wasn’t easy, a single mission could take days, weeks, months, maybe even a year if your so lucky. “I’ve missed to much to not be home anymore.” He admitted, brushing the loose strands of hair from your face.
Your hand is suddenly on top of his, pressing it down on top of your warm cheek, “I’ve missed you too.” You whispered, giving him a tight lipped smile.
John moved closer, careful to not squished daisy between the both of you and pressed his forehead into yours, his hand coming to the back of your head. He closed his eyes, and you closed yours, breathing in before releasing it simultaneously.
He then let you settle your head onto the crook of his neck once more, your hand coming to rest on his chest, feeling the gentle thump of his heart beat between your fingers. He let his lips curve upwards, a small grin making its way onto his face before he finally closed his eyes.
He heard your light snores within a few minutes before he was coaxed into a gentle slumber, his face buried in your (h/c) hair as he slipped into his own dreams.
The frantic movement of Daisy’s small paws was what brought him to open his eye’s once again. You were just stirring awake yourself, a tired yawn breaking from between your lips as he sat up as Daisy hopped off the side of the bed.
“Do you need to go out?” He questioned the dog groggily, obviously she had no verbal answer as she scurried out through the open door, a small yip bursting from her muzzle.
You sat up, throwing off the covers on your side of the bed, stretching up your arm’s to wake yourself up. Shaking your head, you opened the door alittle further as you began to step out, “I’ll go and take her out.” You offered with a small, amused grin before walking out of the room.
John nodded, although he didn’t go back to sleep. His eyes trailed to the window, where it was still dark and he remembered walking Daisy before bed. His eyes narrowed slightly, hearing your footsteps trail down the stairs of the house before it went silent again. You probably had opened the back door for Daisy, but he couldn’t help the feeling in the pit of his stomach, it felt gut wrenching and bitter.
He sat up in the bed, gingerly taking the covers from his body and lifting himself off the comforter. He crossed over from the bed, finding himself alittle stiff from sleep, he walked out of the door of his room. Glancing at the gun that was still on his dresser before loki into the dark hallway, surprised that you hadn’t turned on the lights.
As he began to walk down the stairs, he called for you, finding that it was too quiet, he knew you had to still be in the house. “(Y/n)?”
As he reached the last step, he paused. Finding himself staring at two silhouettes in the darkness, in their hands were two long, metal objects, glinting in the moonlight from the glass windows. He had barely registered, the shock of someone other than his own daughter in his house made this easier than it should’ve been for them.
He was about to race back up the stairs for his pistol when he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, forcing him forwards and to the ground. He hit the wooden flooring with a loud thump before he let out a pained grunt as he was hit with another violent swing across the face. His head agonizingly forced to the side, he didn’t have time to brace for the pain.
A swift kick to the stomach leaves him breathless, his hands fly to his aching ribs now before he hears the faint yips and barking stemming from Daisy. He gasps for breath, his nose dripping with blood and possibly broken from the stinging sensation deriving from it.
He couldn’t form words, he didn’t know who was attacking, and he didn’t know why. But, as they began to speak, he felt his mind take a turn.
“Where are the keys?” Russian. He was speaking in Russian. The man who kicked him, grabbed him by the back of his hair before forcing his head upwards. He didn’t make a sound, only seething visibly, unable to do anything to stop this.
He now realized the lights were on, although all of the men were wearing dark covering and hoodie to hide their identities, but John could see his attackers eyes and that’s all he needed. The male glared down at him, anger visibly making itself known in his eyes, “Where are the fucking keys?” He demanded, but he was cut short.
There was a violent collision on the ground, the male holding John up roughly dropped him down making him grunt before turning his head. His eyes widening painfully as he watched you elbow one of the boys in the face who was desperately trying to hold you back as you forced your bare feet into the others chest. “Fucking Bitch! Take her out back!”
“Dad!” You screamed in alarm, before your head was forced into the side of the elevated steps. John’s eyes widened in horror, watching as you fell to your knee’s for a moment before spinning around and forcing your right knee into the nearest males groin. Shoving away from him as the others raced after you, John groaned trying to get himself off the ground and limp over to the coffee table not to far. He could see the outline of his pistol beneath the wooden drawer.
But, then, a booted heel was placed on top of his chest, his ribs grinding together painfully, making him grit his teeth. “I’m getting tired of this game!” The male climbed off of him to kick him directly in the stomach again, eliciting a bloody cough from John. “Where are the keys?!” The man demanded.
“Get off of me!” He could hear your protests from a few feet over, his head moving to the side to catch a glimpse of you. Just in time to see one of them punch you across the face, a scream breaking from your throat before his hand was around her throat. He was in top of her, applying his large weight over your smaller frame, you whimpered under his violent touch. “Stop!”
John could feel his blood boil, aching to rip every single one of them apart with his bare hands for even contemplating touching his daughter. He squeezed his eye’s shut, before open them, the fury evident but, the meaning to the man in front of him was oblivious to his young eyes. “
"Angry?” He chuckled, his boot applying pressure onto his chest. “She’s your daughter, isn’t she? Pretty.” He glanced over at you as his friends laughed together upon seeing you struggle beneath them. His eyes wandered over you, the way your hair was messily splayed out around your shoulder’s, the urge of your hips, the bruise across your cheek to your nose. “Really pretty.”
John seethed. “Get out…of my house.” He spat at him in Russian.
John glanced at the counter behind him, just as one of the males friends picked up the car keys from the spot. “Found them.”
He turned, his attention faltered and he smirked grabbing the keys from his friends hand before watching as you were hauled to your feet. Your nose bloody, swollen and your neck sporting a violent bruise, you were gasping for breath and your gaze never left his as they had your wrists in their hands restraining you.
“You have them, just leave.” You moaned out, tiredly. Your Russian was alittle sloppy but, you knew what you were saying, as they seemed to register.
He smirked, walking over. “You’re gonna get in the car.”
Your eye’s went wide, as did John’s. “No, she won’t. G-get out!” John grunted, gasping for breath as he struggled to stand.
The male in front of you, suddenly pulled off his mask. Your eye’s widening, it was the boy from the other day, the same one who wanted your father’s car. His name was losef, the son of your father’s late crime boss. “I’m the one with the weapon. Stay down, old man.” losef smirked to himself before taking the metal rod from his accomplices hand and striking your father down in the back. He collapsed and you gasped, crying out, “Stop it, no!”
Losef spun around his weapon hitting the side of your hip, his friends were the only thing keeping you upright as you yelped. His hand traced the curve of your waist, “Now, you’re gonna get in the car, and be a good girl. At least until we get you some where more private.” He snickered and so did the rest of them, you shook your head before forcing your bound hands down. They let go in surprise before you shove your body against one of them, sending them stumbling before reaching for the coffee table where you knew the pistol was hidden.
“Bitch!” You heard before you were yanked away from the coffee table with a violent tug of your hair, your eye’s watering from the pain. You were forced to turn as you stumbled to face your capture, losef, who fumed evidently, his hand on the marble counter to the side of him. “I don’t need this kind of trouble.” He growled distastefully before forcing you forwards, his knee barreling into your stomach. You gasped, unprepared for the white hot pain enveloping your abdomen before he cradled your head and slammed it to the side, into the marble counter.
The violent, audible crack that echoed throughtout the room was enough, it was enough for him, and it was enough for John. Your back hit the floor within seconds, you didn’t move, he could hardly see you breathe.
Enough for losef to know he had done enough damage, walking off with the keys, glancing at the father who was struggling to crawl forwards towards his fallen child. It was enough for John to let out a small, saddened wail of misery as he cradled his daughter in his arms the moment they left. His arm’s wrapping around her like before, instead she wouldn’t do the same.
“(Y/n)…” he whispered, leaning down to search for any sign of recognition in your expression that told him you were awake. There was none.
His right hand already coated in blood, shook as he took a shaky breath before laying you down gently. He took the edge of thee counter in his hand and let out a pained shout as he shakily brought himself up to his feet. Once he was standing, he glanced at the blood staining the marble counter beside him, he looked away before limping over to the steps, clutching his aching sides before freezing as he heard a faint sound.
There was a small bark, a yip. He listened closer, he realized that Daisy was still inside the house. He glanced at the closed garage door, he sighed in relief for a brief moment before proceeding to climb the steps hurriedly. He was squeezing his eye’s tightly shut by the time he reached the top, the splintering sensation around his body was indescribable.
He reached the phone at the idle of the hallway, picking it up and dialing while wiping the blood from his nose.
By the time you had woken up, you were in The Continental, in a hotel room and crowded around a bundle of nurses. One of them placing a comforting hand on your aching head before demanding something of the others. You didn’t waste time to ask for your father, but they could hardly understand you as you could hardly breath or speak. Your throat swollen and parched. Winston, your boss and close friend, was by your side in a few minutes, he informed you of everything you needed to know.
He glanced to your right, making you turn your head as much as you could without hurting yourself.
A single piece of paper beside you, he took it and gave it to you before stroking your hair once and leaving the room.
I won’t be gone long this time, this is for you.
Despite the pain in your face, you couldn’t help but smile and lean your head back, allowing the nurses to finish their work. Within days, John was entering your hotel room, kissing the top of your forehead as you slept.
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