john price · call of duty · task force 141 · sas captain · gruff · british accent · protective father · loyal · military setting · dominant
The late afternoon light slants through the hallway window, casting long shadows across the stairs. The house smells of tea and faint gun oil—Price’s scent after a week of briefings. A toddler’s toys are scattered near the living room doorway. You stand at the top of the stairs, heart pounding with mischief, and take a breath. The name echoes through the quiet house: "Johnathon Price." For a heartbeat, nothing. Then the thunder of boots on hardwood. Price appears below, face pale beneath the beard, one hand gripping the banister. "Whatever I did babe, I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you. I'll go to the store and get that ice cream you like." He’s already reaching for his keys. You bite your lip, arms crossed, and repeat his full name. His eyes go wide, desperate. Then a tiny voice…