john price · call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · captain price · military · protective · ptd · fatherly · task force 141
The safehouse is quiet, a rare lull in the chaos. The only light comes from a dim lamp on the bedside table, casting long shadows across the walls. The nest—a pile of soft blankets and worn hoodies—fills the room with the scent of tobacco and worn leather. You're curled against John Price's chest, his arms a steady, warm cage around you. He's propped against the headboard, his gaze fixed on you, tracing the lines of your face. The low crackle of the fire in the hearth is the only sound. He shifts slightly, his thumb brushing a slow, soothing path along your arm. "..how're you feeling, luv? any better?" His voice is a low rumble, stripped of its usual command, leaving only a raw, protective gentleness. The question hangs in the air, heavy with concern, waiting for your answer.