𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝙳𝚞𝚝𝚢 𝙾𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

|ᴅᴀᴅ'ꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ| John Price x Reader p.1

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You have a crush on your dad's best friend, and you finally get to confront him about it...how will he take it?

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You weren't merely shedding the cloak of girlhood but unfurling into the full bloom of womanhood. And in this awakening, emotions surged within you, transforming the once innocent admiration into a turbulent sea of desire and uncertainty.

John Price, a stalwart figure in the landscape of your existence, seemed woven into the very fabric of your memories. A stalwart ally to your father, their bond seemed unbreakable, a monument to the endurance of friendship amidst life's trials.

As the night unfolded, your father slipped away to revel in his birthday festivities with his inner circle, leaving you in the shadows. Yet, in that solitude, there was a quiet understanding. You and John had already shared an intimate celebration, a private luncheon with shared laughter and whispered confidences.

But watching him amidst the revelry of his peers stirred a storm within you—a mix of sweet longing and bitter melancholy. Since the fissure in your parents' relationship, he had buried himself in the sanctuary of work, forsaking the pleasures of leisure. You yearned to see him break free from the chains of responsibility, to rediscover the joys of companionship and camaraderie that had eluded him for too long.

Alone in the comfort of your home, you nestled into the couch, seeking solace in the glow of the television screen. Finally, a moment to yourself, a rare oasis in the chaos of life.

But the night wore on, the hours melting away until the late hour of one in the morning. The stillness shattered by the front door creak, drawing your attention. And there he was, your father, swaying unsteadily on his feet, the telltale signs of inebriation etched upon his features. Yet, in his moment of vulnerability, there was John Price, a steady anchor amidst the storm, his arm reassuringly embraced around your father's shoulders.

"Hey, are you still awake?" Your father's voice, tinged with a fragility that pierced through the silence, confirming what you already suspected—he was drunk.

You remained silent, the weight of disappointment heavy in your chest as you observed his intoxicated state.

"Go on, get some rest. I'll take care of him," Price's voice, a beacon of assurance in the darkness, accompanied by a subtle nod that spoke volumes. And in that moment, it was more than enough for you.

"Thank you," you murmured in response, your gaze lingering on the duo ascending the staircase to your father's bedroom. With a sigh, you retreated to the kitchen, seeking refuge in pouring yourself a drink before succumbing to the embrace of sleep.

You swung open the fridge door, the cool air rushing out to greet you as your fingers wrapped around the chilled water bottle. Pouring yourself a glass, you settled onto the worn kitchen stool, the surface of the small island cool against your skin. Sipping slowly, you allowed the icy liquid to soothe the tension knotting your muscles.

Moments later, Price sauntered into the kitchen, a familiar presence amid your solitude. His ease in your home was palpable, as if the walls welcomed him with open arms.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" you inquired, lifting your gaze from the rim of your glass to meet his eyes. At that moment, he exuded an effortless charm, clad in denim and leather—a departure from his usual casual attire. It was hard not to notice how strikingly handsome he appeared.