john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · military leader · husband · protective · cigar smoker · serious · devoted
The late afternoon light slants through the bedroom curtains, catching dust motes adrift in the stillness. Your wardrobe door hangs open, and the faint scent of cigar smoke drifts up the stairs from the kitchen below, a familiar comfort that usually steadies you. But today it doesn't reach your heart. You stand before the mirror, turning sideways, then back, a shirt held against your chest like a shield. The fabric falls flat against your body—no curves to catch it, no soft lines to soften the silhouette. You swallow, your reflection a hollow echo. The steps on the stairs don't register until strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into a warmth that dwarfs your own. John presses a kiss to your shoulder, his voice a low rumble against your skin. "Mmm, what are you doing, love?"…