♡ princess of wounds ♡ Johnny knoxville × Reader!fem
A/n: If you have daddy issues like me, well this oneshot is ideal for you lol (and I'm sorry if this isn't translated well, it's just that I'm not good at English :(()
word number: 848
Plot: You decide to climb the tree in your backyard, but you don't realize that you'll hurt yourself badly in those attempts. So, sadness and little angry, you decide to go back home and that's where your father sees you covered in wounds.
omg i'm gonna fucking cry looking at this picture. it's so cute ♡
It was vacation time, and we had left the city where I lived to go to a beautiful place somewhat far from the town.
Today was a sunny day, the birds were singing, and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. I took this as a sign to go outside and play in the backyard. The yard was quite large, with no fences or anything, so I could walk freely, and there were big trees all around.
I decided to climb one of the trees. I loved climbing trees and spending my afternoons on the branches, reading, playing, or just being silent and enjoying the view.
I tied my shoelaces tightly, adjusted my clothes, made a loose ponytail, and began to climb that tree... or rather, to try to climb it.
It was almost impossible for me; I kept slipping down again and again. My hands started to hurt along with my legs, I had tiny splinters in my fingers, my knees were almost raw, and my eyes were obviously teary from the pain and the frustration of not being able to climb.
I kept trying, but after a few minutes, I decided to give up once and for all. I kicked the tree out of annoyance and sat on the ground, leaning my back against the trunk and crossing my arms in frustration.
"WHY CAN'T I CLIMB IT?! IT'S NOT EVEN THAT BIG... or is it? OH GOD, I DON'T KNOW, I'M SO ANGRY AND SAD"
I told myself in my mind. I was so mad at myself for not being able to climb that tree. In truth, it was big and almost impossible to climb, but in my mind at that moment, I thought it wasn't and that I could do it.
After almost an hour of sitting there and one more attempt to climb it (which obviously failed), I decided to go back home. I was no longer angry; I was sad and almost in tears. I felt so frustrated and in pain. I just wanted someone to hug me at that moment.
I entered the house and noticed my dad was in the living room, sitting on a stool near the small kitchen bar, drinking something and wearing his sunglasses. Apparently, he had come home after doing something. I stayed for a few seconds watching him and then started walking to my room.
As I passed by him, my dad noticed me and saw my injuries, quickly catching my attention.
— Hey love! What happened? Why do you look like that?
Without saying anything, I started to cry, sobbing desperately and in pain. Maybe I was exaggerating, but at that moment, my emotions were all mixed up, and all I could do was cry and cry.
I could see my dad getting worried, and he quickly got up from the stool, knelt down to be almost at my height, and hugged me very lovingly and protectively. I rested my head on his shoulder and felt his hand gently on the back of my neck.
— Love, what happened? Please tell me, I'm worried.— Knoxville said with concern.
Through my tears, I told him:
— I was trying to climb a tree, I hurt myself a lot, and I couldn't climb it. I feel so bad.
My dad kept hugging me and telling me not to feel bad about it, that maybe I couldn't because the tree was big and things like that.
After a long time comforting me, he carefully lifted me in his arms and sat me on the kitchen bar. He went for a small first-aid kit from the bathroom and sat back down to start treating my wounds.
He gently rubbed a cotton ball with some alcohol on my scraped knees and hands. I let out a slight whimper of pain, and I heard my dad let out a small laugh. But I gave him a bad look, and he said, "Sorry."
He removed some splinters I had in my fingers and legs, and after a long while, he had finished treating all my wounds. He put some band-aids on my legs and hands to prevent the injuries from getting infected or anything.
— You're just as mischievous as I was when I was a kid; I always came home hurt or with a new serious injury.— Johnny said with a small smile while gently stroking his little daughter's hand.
— So, from those days, you already knew what you were going to do? A professional at doing silly things.— I exclaimed while looking at my dad.
I noticed him chuckle lightly, took off his glasses for a moment, and said:
— More than a professional, I'm a king of foolishness, and you are the princess of injuries.
I laughed a little upon hearing that and felt my dad place his hands on my cheeks and kiss my forehead.
