#daddyissues?

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Overprotective

Father!John Price x Daughter!Reader

wc: ∼500 summary: You are dating someone and Price is feeling his Father instincts flare up warnings: none, fluff, no y/n used, platonic story a/n: divider — @strangergraphics, sketch is mine!!! i drew price!! probably a year ago by now but i made it!! enjoy, his came out short oops

Your dad made it very clear from the beginning that he will break the legs of anyone who tries to hurt you. Especially if it‘s about dating. He can and will make their life worse than it already is, and make sure to scare them for life.

So, of course, it was a surprise for your father when you slipped during a conversation and mentioned your boyfriend.

»Say again?«

»What?« You pretend really hard to pretend like nothing happened, as if there is no boyfriend you accidenetallly revealed. But he isn‘t stupid, and you were never good at this with him. Damn his military interrogation skills.

»Who is it?«

He inquires, making you sigh out in defeat and embarrassment. Finally, you decide to give in, knowing this can‘t go on forever.

»It‘s… it‘s just an earlier friend. You know him, actually!«

It seems like he is thinking, finally seeming less tense. The thought of someone taking advantage or using you in a relationship makes him physically sick. He did his best on protecting you while growing up, now being retired and still making sure you get the best of best.

When he first took you in, it was really hard not to freak out whenever you were hurt in the slightest way. Getting a papercut, for example, was something he dreaded to see. Even the smallest drop of blood that was yours, made him feel incredibly guilty.

But even talking about emotional pain was hard for him. He isn‘t used at being open about feelings, so comforting you was a little difficult at first too. Even now, when you are an adult and can take of yourself, he still gets the feeling of needing to protect you. Nothing he does feels enough when, so finding out you are in a relationship already feels like failing in a way.

»Which friend?«

Finally, he seems more calm and open about the conversation. The only thing he knows about your friends is that they are pretty decent. All nice people.

»You know, the one from middle school?«

His eyes widen, jaw almost going slack. If it‘s actually true and you are together with someone from middle school, then how long were together? Did you really manage to trick him and keep it a secret for that long?

After the initial shock was gone, he finally starts to loosen up and take it more lightly. Of course a joke can‘t slip past him and he decides to make several. Just to embarrass you even more for scaring him earlier.

»Don‘t marry someone behing my back, though, okay?« Or, »But you both use protection, don‘t you?«

It‘s as if he waited all his life to crack those stupid jokes. But in all honesty, he is glad you chose to date someone nice. Someone he could half-rely on. Even though he knows your friend good enough, he still has lingering doubts. For now he ignores it and tries his best for you.

That is, until your boyfriend fails, of course.

←MASTERLIST

[musicalnoteschambersession]

MY FATHER-A TYPICALLY ME JOURNALISTIC TAKE

During the quiet hours of the night, my father scares himself with the inevitable event of his death. With years of time wasted and the gift of love being taken and restricted like teasing a baby with a milk bottle. Only to shatter the glass bottle in front of his very eyes. Yes, that sick humor does things to you. Doesn't it? I look into his weary eyes, eyes he's so intent on masking after years of being told of the dangers of showing it. I pity him. Filling him with a quiet understanding but not absolution in his cracked, fragile shellheart. Is that what you expect of me? To lay out these feelings to you in this manner? To talk about my father as if he is a character from a book no one cares to buy in the bookstore? It would not surprise me if this was the case because the distance between me and him is exactly the same---miles between our hearts and minds. Funny how those miles could stretch on in the thin width that is a paper. If it may please you, continue to read my father like an open book through the ink of my blood that I share with him. Someone told me, I can't remember who, that my poetry was uniquely journalistic and personal. Once, I had prided myself in how my writing was so down to earth and easy to enjoy. But, honestly, what is the point of having both feet in the dirt if there is no chance to crane your head up to the sky and wonder. Why? Why? Why? Why does my father lay up, listening to empty soulless sermons, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer? Why does he work to destroy the temple He created personally for him? Is it a repentance to all the children he had help to create? Like taking one of your ribs, and instead of cooking it on an open fire and feeding it to your child, you sharpened it and began chasing us with it? Now, you cannot bear to stand up tall when you have given everything away but the reason for your discipline and charity is purely abysmal in intention. Why, dad? Why did I stop calling you daddy? Why did you let me stop calling you daddy? Why did you let me leave you? Did you think you weren't good enough for a third chance? My father has never looked at the sky unless it's to gaze at a rainbow and grumble about how the end is near. My daddy used to spray water in a certain angle so it hits the light to show me the rainbows that can be formed from refraction when I was nine. My daddy jacked up the water bill because of that. My father doesn't dare look into my eyes unless it's to intimidate me. My daddy would kiss me and tickle me with his scraggly beard so I'd pay attention to him when I'd be doing math homework. My father flinches from my grazing touch like I'm the bone he sharpened to pierce and break the heart of his first children. Is this enough of a journal entry to be charming enough to be a poem that's so typically mine? When will I be able to spill my heart out to my father so that his love and affection will be typically mine? When will my father pick me up and read me like my daddy once did?

[siddyyyyyyyy]

No, I didn't.

Pairing: Father figure!Price (x reader) (PLATONIC)

wc: 1.8 kwarnings: daddy issueswhat, military stuff but i dont have much knowledge, no y/n used, no angst, don't worry

Summary: Captain is similiar to being your father figure and you accidentally call him "dad"!!!!!!!!!!!

a/n: (this thing has been rotting in my notes app for a while) there's no romantic plot in this one, just some thoughts I've had about Price and him being the 'dad' figure or something, enjoy

Working with the TaskForce141 is definitely a lot of work and needs a lot of training, being able to cope and deal with high stress situations. It's all not a big deal for you, since you've been training for this a long time anyway and have probably seen it all by now. From a pile of dead bodies to difficult decision making in order to save people. All this doesn't exactly affect you, at least not as hard as the very first time you experienced these things. After years and years of experience it started to just be another day at work, which doesn't mean it got boring. It's definitely not boring, and if you were honest with yourself for once, it feels like the team you're in makes it easier to get along with missions and makes them less stressful.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick is about the same age as you, if not only a few months older. He's mostly calm and respectful but won't let anyone disrespect anyone else or himself, always making sure to get his opinion straight and be open-minded for anything. It's great to talk to him, him having a smooth voice and being one of the pretty faces you've seen around. Your other teammate, Johnny 'Soap' McTavish is a pretty interesting person himself. A loyal soldier and a strong one at that aswell, his arms looking like he could rip a tree in half if he wanted to. His scottish accent always comes out thicker whenever he's angry or got a beer too much. But besides that, he is also a pretty good person to talk to, especially when needing some advice for relationships and other topics.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley must be one of the most mysterious people you've seen around. You know pretty much nothing about him, besides him liking his earl grey tea and silly little army jokes. He holds a lot to himself and keeps quiet almost always and looks like he could tear you apart if you breath the wrong way. But he actually wouldn't, being his teammate is safer than to be his enemy. Besides his cold nature and brutal way of handling things, he actually tries to care for his team in his own way too. Checking up on you from time to time on a difficult mission, mostly just to make sure you don't fuck it up. You're not the type to have a favorite in a group, but if you needed to decide, it would probably be John Price. Your very own Captian. He's cold, if not the coldest person you know, always being fast in decision making and not letting anyone get in his way, no matter what. Price always makes sure to be there for his team too, cracking a few small 'dad jokes' then and there if the time is right.

Now, you're all waiting in the middle of a desert for a vehicle to pick you up after another successful mission. It was a mission that went on for several days but it was great, with minor difficulties. As your sitting on the sand, while making sure the sun doesn't give you a stroke, the others are talking about the mission. Well, just the few funny or minor mistakes they did while on mission. Soap is telling about how he accidentally let his magazine fall to the ground while reloading and almost slipped on a rock while doing so. But he got up and continued with the mission as usual, so it wasn't serious and just something to laugh about. After a few chuckles and jokes, Price spoke up and mentioned you, doing something similar.

»I saw you once throw a magazine out instead of a granade. Just giving out free ammunition like that.«

He teased you a little about it while mostly just Johnny and Kyle laughed about it with Price, lightheartedly teasing you about it some more. After another one of the Captains typical dad jokes, you finally speak up as you got enough of them.

»Okay, stop it dad.« You scoff lightly with a slight headshake, realizing only a few seconds later what you actually said. You're met with silence for a moment before Johnny cracks up and chuckles, not able to hold it back in.

»Did I hear you right, there? Did you just call him-«

»Enough. I didn't say anything.« You interrupt and stand up from your sitting spot on the sand, dusting your pants off. The truck arrives just in time, sparring you from any more embarrassing stuff happening to you for now. Price is genuinely suprised about you calling him that, not having thought anyone from his team could see him as something like a father figure. He doesn't mind that much anyway but also thinks he isn't that old. Eventually, he doesn't bring it up, not wanting to make you uncomfortable and he doesn't really think too much of it at the end of the day.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

　Something similar happens another time, two or three months after the first 'incident', how you call it. The moment since you accidentally called your Captain dad, you promised to focus way more on what you say as if you didn't already do that all the time.

Once in the mess hall to eat dinner, you couldn't help but feel more tired than usual. Probably because you didn't catch much sleep last night or maybe because you had a lot of paperwork that day, either way you felt rather tired but nothing too bad for you to handle. You're sitting at the right corner of the table while eating with the rest at one of the tables, eating peacefully while listening to the conversations around you. Sometimes listening to the small drama from a table across or just trying to see who else is eating dinner in the mess hall aswell. The food is nothing special, just the usual mashed potatoes, some sauce and meat to it. Salad is also there for everyone. Even though the food isn't bad, you can't help but want more salt in it, feeling like it hasn't got enough of it. Glancing up from your food, you see that Price is sitting closest to the salt shaker. Without much thinking you speak up, looking at him while asking.

»Dad, could you pass me the salt?« You ask casually and wait for him to hand you the salt shaker, not having realized yet what you really said for now. He shrugs and hands it over to you over the table, keeping a straight face as if nothing's wrong.

»Sure, kiddo.« It's a bit strange for him to call you 'kiddo' right now, but you don't question it and pour some salt into your food. Price continues to eat his own food, but you can't help but notice how silent it became around the table for some reason. Before you could look up again, Johnny chimes in.

»Didn't know you were his kid.« He nudges your shoulder softly and waits for your reaction, carefully watching how you react. You're a bit confused and look to him next to you, the gears in your head finally turning. Kyle can't help but smirk slightly at this whole thing as he tries to continue eating, turning his head away a bit.

»No- it's.... I didn't- what?« You stumble over your words while trying to explain this, eventually getting frustrated with yourself. Your back leans back against your chair while sighing out, being ready to gaslight them about this slip up. »It's alright. Happens.« Price reassures you even though he has a very faint smirk on his own lips about the situation, just not addressing it as much as Johnny.

»It's not the first time this happened, right?« Kyle's the one to tease you this time, looking over to you at the table all the while you're hiding your face a bit again.

»No, nothing never happened.« You shake your head and just continue eating your food more quickly, so you can escape this situation as fast as possible.

The conversations around the table return to its usual after a moment, no one addressing it anymore afterwards. Ghost was always just observing your reactions and the situation itself in both times it happened, having noticed a few things.

For example that it happened when you looked tired or when you were seemingly relaxed, speaking from your body language. Or how your ears become increasingly more red the moment you realise what happened, making it more amusing for him to watch your reaction. But of course he wouldn't mention any of those things, especially not to the whole group since it could come off a bit weird. He keeps it to himself but still can't help but tease you subtly about it during a round of joking in the team, mostly just addressing how easily something can embarrass you.

But to say he's the only who noticed that, is wrong. Price was probably the first person to notice those things about you, finding it also amusing in a way. He doesn't exactly mind you calling him 'dad' sometimes by accident but when it happens, he mostly thinks about why you do it. Probably having no proper father figure in your life or maybe he just reminds you of your own father. Maybe it's just the personality he gives off, making it seem like he's the fatherly one in the team. Either way, he finds it mostly wholesome, knowing he makes his team feel comfortable around him. But he keeps quiet about it, not wanting to embarass you even though he finds it oddly amusing to see how you act once something embarrassing or humbling happens to you.

But you on the other hand, you don't find it amusing at all. You're ready to launch at them the moment something remotely humbling happens in front of them, ready to gaslight them if it means they'll forget about one small thing. But you don't do it, considering they're your team mates and you're all almost equally strong. But even though they don't make seriously fun of you and tell you it's all jokes at the end of the day, you still can't help but feel even a little embarrassed about it. It's like having a small crisis to yourself, not sure what others think about you now or how you should act from now on around them. But that's just you being dramatic. Mostly.

[musicalnoteschambersession]

Harbinger of malice strides into the kitchen with an intent to puncture wounds into his child. Instead of steel knives, Harbinger uses his tongue, teeth, and lips to spike pointed words into her heart. Mumbling unintelligible streams of insults like an untamed river to drown her deep in sorrow. It’s a shame how she works so hard when she has a looming rain cloud over her shoulder. A constant threat to shatter her thoughts with one swift sweep of his own personal brand of electricity. “Psychotic” rolls off the tip of the void that spews endless pain like lava, branding me in shame. .

[musicalnoteschambersession]

ikebana, arrangement of a crushed flower

All I do is work and get yelled at.

My life revolves around pleasing people who

Don’t even know my favorite color.

I am not me anymore, I am not me anymore.

Do you know my favorite color?

Do you know my favorite flower?

You give me the ugliest flowers

And say make a bouquet, make a bouquet.

The flowers are ugly.

They are the orange daises.

I hate the color orange.

I despise the flower daises.

You don’t care, you just want to make amends.

Yet I don’t have the heart to forgive you.

Or squeeze your palm encouragingly in my hands.

I’ve come to hate you, I wish your death with every breath

I take

The daises.

“Thank you! They’re lovely.”

I am not your punching bag, stop hitting me.

I am not your wife, stop punishing me for the things

I cannot control, what she made do which angered you

Anger me, don’t force me into anything you are not my deity.

You are a senile old man, lungs, like rotten fruit, overripe for the picking.

I pray you die in your sleep, I pray cancer blooms and you’re

Gasping out sickly, gripping my hands

On your deathbed, in the hospital, so I can wretch myself, walk away, whistling a tune

What is my favorite color? What is my favorite color?

I remember the father who pumped air into my bike, cracking jokes in the hot summer air.

Who slow danced with me while Billy Joel played in the cool Californian night.

I remember the man who threw me into the ground

Garden bed, in the bugs they bit my pale, shaking legs.

Trying to fix the broken corn stalk.

My hands shake with the twine

I tie a string and hope for the best, not enough in your eyes.

Foolish little girl, to trust a man who created you.

His cold eyes and his bushy, furrowed brows and the

Smoke that surrounds him.

You cough when you are near him, I hate tobacco.

Cough, cough, cough, I hate tobacco

I hate you, you’re as black as the tobacco which

Dirties the muscle in your old, dying lungs.

I hope you take your last breath, soon enough

It’s wrong for me to want

The death of another

But you have broken me, I used to love you

This anger was once pure devotion, that is true.

I used to doze off in your arms

On a warm, Sunday morning

Now I flinch when I see those palms of pain

As you battered your fist into me.

I felt the prickliness of your unshaved stubble as you peppered me with kisses.

I also felt the sting of when you spat into my face.

Yelling at the top of your lungs because I looked at you “wrong”

“You came from my balls and now I want you gone” 

I am so disgusting

The way I was made

With terrible, vulgar clashing of bodies

Who did not feel closely innate

To each other

I don’t know what love is.

I’ve never seen my father even

Hug my mother, let alone kiss.

Born as the cursed sex

I am treated lesser

If I was born a man

My cards would be better

Daddy, why do you hate me? You walked away when I couldn’t play chess with you. You told me you’d only play with me once I learned the basics. So I tried, Daddy, to learn it all, for you. I went to a boy you wouldn’t approve of and asked him to teach me. It didn’t work, I guess I’m just dumb. I play chess alone while you chug down the bottle of rum in the backyard, listening to church tunes. Daddy, you’re a bad Christian. You need to start praying in the night. You say the end is near, and I think so too. It wouldn’t be so bad if I died here with you. If Armageddon comes, let us be sleeping. When the angels descend, I hope they start listing all the bad things you did to me, Daddy, and how I became bad too. Like a lullaby, they’ll bring up the garden bed. Like a lullaby, locusts will scream out of your lungs, escaping from your mouth as you vomit a colony of insects. Daddy, you’re just a bug. Cockroach, that’s what you are. If so, what am I? All because of you, I am an extension of the bad fruit. Daddy, where were you when I needed your light? It was so dark. Daddy, I’m scared–my body is changing. You don’t want to hug me anymore, the curves jut out from me. I feel like a monster, all hairy and ugly. When I walk into the living room, you run for the hills and slam the door behind you. I never liked the oppression of a hug, but I wish you taught me that love wasn’t bad. I wish you weren’t bad. I’m disgusting, Daddy. That’s how you made me feel. I felt abandoned when you chose beer over my violin recitals. Daddy, you stopped caring when you heard my breasts were growing. Did I do something wrong? I don’t know how to be better. I’ve never been taught how to say sorry. I just stand and take everything you give me. Nailed on a cross, I ask the Heavenly One to forgive me. I’m sorry you created me. You don’t deserve to be tied down by a wife and child who don’t really love you, but could’ve, but could’ve. Daddy, why do you hate me? You’re making me hate you.

[ourlazilysuperbstudentme-blog]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J753GxRW8GA)

[wannahearmystory]

Dear Dad,

As a child i remember sitting an waiting, hoping an praying. That one day you’d show up. Years seemed to pass an i was always told that i’d never see you again, that you didn’t want me. I was so pissed i couldn’t stand to be called the same name as you, hated to be told i looked like you. But now you are on my phone texting an talking to me way more than my own mother does. Now you are a call away. Cried my eyes out cause i’d been lied to my whole life. Now i don’t know what to do.. But i’m over whelmed with whats going on. You ain’t how i was told you were. Not even a lil bit. I used to cry for you when he’d leave my room. I’d beg GOD over an over again for you to come back in make our family whole again. I did that to the point i don’t even believe in him no more. Now all i’ll ask is to pick up where we left off. I wont ask you for you to forgive how i felt back then cause i did’t know better. I still am the only one that didn’t give up on you maybe it’s cause i remember living with you or cause of the way my “new father” treated/touched me.. Things were never as bad as i was told they were. Which probably helped me to come to you. An you probably have no idea what i’m talking about but i hope one day i’ll have the courage to tell you.. But i just wanna look forward an make new memories. Cause i know i’m still your lil girl no matter how far away i am or how old i get

[freetalielxandra]

I wonder what it's like to have a father daughter relationship