PROMPTS: Okie dokie, for a John x Daughter!reader prompt how about the reader is just being a stupid teenager and does something which makes John start to yell at her and the reader starts crying so John feels bad and cheers her up the way he used to when she was little?
“just come down… I promise I won’t do anything” or “don’t make me come get you.” for the john winchester x daughter ?
A/N: Hey! I’ve been working on this for a long time now in between studying for my final exams, and I’ve managed to finish it off just now! I really hope you enjoy as I definitely loved writing it! <3
Also, I kinda got carried away and definitely changed the prompt up a bit. Sorry about that, but I still hope you like it!
Summary: “No man in this world can love a girl more than her father.” You learn this after having a pretty horrible argument with Dean.
Dean’s eyes stayed fixed on the TV, bottle of beer in his hand. He didn’t even bother to look up at his father as he walked into the motel room carrying two bags of shopping, Sam trailing behind. “Don’t know, don’t care,” he said.
Sam’s eyes widened at his brother’s retort. He had some nerve to speak to his father like that.
John seemed to think the same. “Excuse me?” he asked. At the lack of response, the man’s eyes narrowed into slits, and the bags he’d been holding were thrust into Sam’s hands. “What’d you say?”
Dean shifted on the couch, still not moving to look up. He took a swig from his bottle and his eyes flickered to his side a little. “She went out about twenty minutes ago. Dunno where.”
John could not believe his son. He could not believe he had the audacity… was this seriously Dean? The guy who protected you with everything he had? The man who would kill anyone who even looked at you funny? The big brother who loved his little sister with all his heart? He was sat there, drinking, clearly not giving a crap about where the hell you were.
John grabbed the remote and switched off the TV, snatching the bottle out of Dean’s hand and moving to stand in front of him. He leaned over him with both hands on either side of him. Dean stared up at him in a challenging manner, but still didn’t budge.
“Dean, you better tell me what the hell happened,” the older Winchester demanded, voice dangerously low. There was a raging fire in his dark eyes, one both his sons had learned to listen to and obey.
“We had an argument,” Dean began.
“You didn’t try to stop her?”
John was barely keeping his anger at bay. Dean knew better than anyone the dangers of the world. He knew there were monsters out there. He knew that there were things in the world that wouldn’t think twice about kidnapping or even killing a sixteen-year old girl. “What did you argue about?” he asked, hands balling into fists.
“I. Don’t. Fucking. Care.”
Dean was testing John’s patience and he knew it. If there was one thing you didn’t mess with when concerning the eldest Winchester, it was his little girl. Okay, yeah, if something happened to his boys, he’d probably maybe definitely kill whoever did it, but his daughter? Completely different story.
Anyone who hurt her, emotionally or physically, would suffer the consequences.
John turned at the interruption, seeing Sam leaned against the kitchen table. “What?” he said, clearly running out of patience.
“Y/N’s just sent me a message.”
This got the man’s attention. In a moment, he’d straightened and walked over to Sam, taking his phone out of his hands and reading the messages sent between the two of you.
Sam: Hey, sweetheart. Where are you?
Sam: Yeah, it does. I’m very worried. So’s dad.
Sam: What happened between you two?
Sam: Okay, it doesn’t matter. Tell me where you are, please. Gonna come get you.
John looked up at Sam, patting his shoulder. “I’m gonna go, Sammy. You stay here. Look after him,” he said, motioning towards Dean.
Dean scoffed from his seat. “I’m older than him. You think I need looking after?”
“With the way you’re acting? Yeah, son, I do,” John said. He’d had enough. “I’m going to find your sister, which you obviously don’t give a shit about. While I’m gone, try and knock some sense into your head and grow. The fuck. Up.”
“Stupid Dean,” you mumbled, picking a pine cone from the tree you were sat on and throwing it to the floor.
“Stupid motel.” Another pine cone.
“Stupid life.” Pine cone.
“Stupid hunting.” Pine corn.
“Woah, there. You don’t wanna hit me, now, do you?”
You jumped at the voice, grabbing onto one of the sturdy branches next to you. John was walking slowly up to the tree, slight smile on his face, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. The sun was setting, casting the park you were sat in in a dark glow, and a cool breeze was flowing through your hair.
“You thought Sammy was coming?” Your dad stopped at the base of the tree, craning his head to look up at you. “What? Not happy to see me?”
You shrugged. “Depends on what you’re here for.”
“Just wanna talk, sweetheart. Find out what happened between you and Dean.”
At the mention of your brother’s name, you rolled your eyes and turned your head. “Go away.”
John rose his eyebrows. “And why should I do that?”
“I’ll throw a pine cone at you.”
“Do that and I’ll come up there and tickle you till you apologize.”
Eyes narrowed, you stared at your father. He was smiling sweetly, looking completely innocent, hands still stuffed in his pockets. You knew the threat wasn’t an empty one - he’d done it before and he most definitely would do it again - and so you settled with another eye roll as your response.
John smiled, watching as you turned your head away from him. You were so much like Mary. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up?” he asked.
You shrugged again, picking at the bark of the tree.
“Don’t make me come get you,” he threatened, hoping for at least a smile, but he got nothing. Right. “Y/N.”
John’s eyebrows rose higher, and he sighed as he withdrew his hands from his pockets and rolled up his sleeves. “Can’t believe my sixteen-year old daughter is making me climb a goddamn tree,” he mumbled to himself.
“I’m not making you do anything.”
“Yeah? You’re gonna come down here?”
“Exactly. You’re making me climb this tree. Remember that when I fall and break my arm.”
You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest and watching as your dad placed both hands on the thick wood of the tree and began to heave himself up. The tree wasn’t high, but it was difficult to climb, what with the smooth trunk and lack of hand and foot-holds. And so, it gave you great pleasure to shuffle along the branch once he’d managed to reach the top, and jump right off, landing on both feet on the ground.
The look on John’s face was priceless. He was sat there, at the top of a tree, having just spent two minutes climbing it, only for you to jump down again once he reached you.
“Hey, Dad,” you said, sweet and innocent as you smiled up at your father.
John rose an eyebrow and attempted to look intimidating (which was fairly difficult when you were sat on top of a tree). “Yeah, hey, Y/N,” he said. “That was pretty mean, don’t you think?”
“No?” John said with a chuckle. He readied himself to jump down. “Alright, then. Think I’m gonna give you five seconds head start before I come after you. That seem fair?”
Five seconds head start before wh-
Your eyes widened. “Dad! Why do I need a five second-”
“You’re only wasting time, kid. Three.”
Not wanting your dad to reach ‘five’ before you’d even been given the chance to escape, you turned tails and ran, almost bumping into trees more times than you were willing to admit. It must have been almost eight pm by now, the winter sun having almost set, and the air was cold as you raced through the park, feeling the wind blow in your ears and through your hair.
And so you thought it in your best interest to fully blame the wind on what happened next.
A huge gust blew your hair into your face, making you completely unable to see anything, and in less than five seconds two strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back against a muscled chest.
“Gotcha,” John said, and you could practically hear the triumphant smile that was so obviously on his face.
“Go away!” you giggled, desperately trying to escape the man’s grip. He didn’t relent, however, only tightening his hold on you and chuckling deeply.
“Don’t think I will,” he said, leaning down and blowing in your ear slightly. You squealed and scrunched your neck up.
“Hey!” If there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was when people blew in your ear. And your brothers and father would be lying if they said they didn’t use that to their full advantage every time they were given the chance.
“Hey to you, too!” John laughed, poking your stomach.
Yet another squeal left your mouth, and you doubled over the arms holding you up as your father repeatedly placed well-aimed pokes to your stomach, ribs and sides. “Stohohohop!” you said, not in the least bit surprised as the two of you fell to the grassy floor. You could only be glad that nobody else was at the park this late at night.
“So,” John said, still holding you tightly against him even lying on the floor - which was wet, he noticed with a flinch as the water seeped through his thin shirt - and attacking you with tickling fingers, “we gonna talk about Dean and you?”
“Is that a no to my question or no to the tickling?”
“That right?” John was grinning wildly, one arm wrapped firmly around you and the other dancing its fingers over your upper body. “Guess we’re gonna be here a little while longer then, baby.”
John smiled at the new bout of giggles his fingers produced when he dug them under your lower ribs. He quickly glanced around him, double-checking that there definitely was nobody around… (if there was, they’d probably call the police and tell them there was a man attacking a young girl in the park). Finding no one, he turned his attention back to you and moved you onto his chest a bit more so you weren’t half on him and half on the wet ground.
“You ready to apologize?”
“YE- YEHEHEHES! I AHAHAHAM!”
John smiled, stilling his fingers and resting them on your stomach. He was silent for a while, waiting for your panting and giggling to die down. “Go on, then,” he teased.
You gulped a huge breath of air before turning your head slightly. “I’m sorry for… uh- what am I sorry for?”
Your dad laughed, sitting up and lifting you with him. “Nothing, kiddo,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead. You leaned against him, shivering as a cold gust of wind blew past the two of you, and John quickly shrugged off his jacket to drape over your shoulders.
“We gonna talk about this, then?” he asked, and you sighed.
“Yeah, sweetheart; I need to know what went on. Dean’s not acting like himself, which is enough to tell me something happened while Sammy and I were gone. Now, we’re not gonna go back to that motel and have both you and your brother arguing non-stop about whatever it was. We don’t need that, okay? We’re not gonna leave until you tell me so I can sort it out.”
You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest and turning your head into your dad’s shoulder. He was right, you supposed. Still did’t mean you wanted to tell him what happened.
“Don’t make me tickle you again.”
“Hey, no! Okay, okay, I’ll tell you!”
Damn fathers and their damn parenting skills.
John nodded, a hint of a smirk on his face, and waited for you to start.
“Dean’s just- I dunno how to explain it. You know he’s still annoyed at having to leave Ohio last week after he’d just met that girl, right? ‘Cause he is. Like, a lot. I guess it was because we were staying there for longer than we usually do, and he got attached to her. But yeah. While you were gone, I, uh- I asked him about her, and he got mad. He started shouting, I started shouting… I don’t really- I don’t know, dad. He told me to piss off, so I pissed off.”
John sighed loudly and rested his chin on the top of your head. That son of his would be the death of him. “Dean and his girls, hey?” he said. “I’ve told him time and time again that he shouldn’t get friendly with anyone he meets. We move too much.”
You shrugged. “He’s not gonna have any friends then. We move all the time.”
“Whose side are you on?” John asked with a frown.
“No, I just… I guess what he did to me was wrong, but-”
“You guess? Y/N, that brother of yours is gonna get a serious talking to when we get back. He does not, under any circumstances, argue with you over someone he probably won’t remember the name of in a few years’ time. You’re his sister, okay? You should be the most important girl in his life.”
You smiled at that, twisting your head to stare up at your dad. His warm eyes locked onto yours. “Am I the most important girl in your life?”
“Why would you ever think that?” your father asked, wiggling his fingers lightly against your stomach. He chuckled at your yelp. “Yeah, you sure are, princess.”
You wondered how long you’d been gone. Would Dean worry about you? Probably not. “Can we just… stay here?”
A deep chuckle escaped John’s lips, and he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “Worried about seeing Dean, hey?”
John rose an eyebrow at the so obvious lie and took your hand in his, squeezing slightly. “And the fact that you’re now scared of him only adds to the fact he’s gonna get a talking to.”
“You wanna go see him, then?”
“There you go. It shouldn’t be like this, sweetheart.”
You nodded, blinking back the tears which had begun to well in your eyes. It wasn’t that you were terrified of your brother, it was just… you hadn’t told your dad everything he’d said, and you doubted you would at all. You knew at some point Dean would come to his senses and feel horribly guilty about everything he did, and he’d probably hug you tight and tell you he loved you and never let you out of his sight again… and the things he’d said would be completely forgotten. You only hoped John wouldn’t be too hard on him. Moving from place to place wasn’t easy on either him or you and Sam. Just because he was the eldest, it didn’t mean he had to act tough all the time. That wasn’t fair.
“Alright, Y/N,” your father said after a while, “it’s getting late. Gonna have to head back to the motel.”
“You can stay with Sammy while I speak to Dean.”
“You’re not gonna… you’re not gonna be too hard on him, are you?”
John stood up, pulling you with him, and slung an arm around your shoulder as he turned you both to walk towards where he’d parked the Impala. “No, I’m not. I understand why you don’t want me to, I really do, but he does have to be aware of how much he’s upset you, okay? I love your brother, kid, but you know how he can be. All in all, I’d say he’s gonna be almost as hard on me as I’m gonna be on him.”
You smiled. Yeah. Sounded like Dean.
“Thank you for coming to find me, Dad,” you said, leaning against your father’s side.
“You thought I’d let you stay out here by yourself?” he asked.
You shrugged. “Dean didn’t care.”
“Didn’t really want you to find me, though.”
“That why you hid in a tree?”
“Mhm. Knew you’re too old to be able to climb it properly.”
Both of the man’s eyebrows shot up higher than you’d ever seen them. He stopped, tightening his hold around your shoulders, and turned an accusing gaze on you. “Who’re you calling old?”
You giggled. “Dad, you’re practically ancient.”
“That right, hm?” His eyes narrowed, glinting dangerously. “I’ll show you ancient- c’mere!”
You’d squealed and pushed away from John as soon as the words left his mouth, running across the grass, a huge grin on your face as your dad chased after you.
Let’s just say John Winchester got the last laugh that night.
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