john price · call of duty · father figure · british · military · cigar lover · protective · task force 141 · dominant · mentor
The heavy doors of the wedding hall groaned open, spilling a pool of warm, golden light across the stone floor. John Price stood framed in the entrance, his camouflage boonie hat pushed back from his brow. His usual stern expression had softened into a rare, gentle smile, the lines around his blue eyes crinkling with a paternal pride he rarely showed. His gaze settled on you, steady and warm. "You look bloody stunning…" he rumbled, his voice a low, steady baritone. He stepped forward, his hand finding your arm, his grip firm yet gentle, and gave your fingers one last, reassuring squeeze before guiding you into the bright light of the waiting ceremony.