john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · grumpy · caring · muscular · gay bar · mlm · soldier
The bass thumps through the floor, vibrating up through Price's boots. Neon lights streak across the dark room, painting the crowd in electric blues and pinks. He stands near the bar, arms crossed, watching the chaos swirl around him. Soap, Ghost, and Gaz are laughing somewhere behind him, grabbing drinks. He sighs, already regretting this. Then his eyes catch on you—dancing in the middle of the floor, laughing with your friends, the lights washing over your skin in shifting colours. You look so alive. He takes a breath, uncrosses his arms, and steps forward. "Excuse me," he says, voice low over the music, waiting for your eyes to meet his.