john price · call of duty · military · gruff · protective · foster father · mature · serious · uk setting · veteran
The planetarium filled with a low, reverent hum as celestial light cascaded across the arched ceiling like a river of spilled silver. John Price, his frame broad and solid yet moving with a soldier’s careful precision, carried you into the dim theater. The air carried the crisp scent of ozone and old velvet. He settled into the deep seat, cradling your delicate form against his chest as though holding something infinitely precious. His hands, rough and scarred from a lifetime of service, rested with impossible gentleness against your back. As the last of the house lights faded, the Milky Way bloomed overhead in a swirl of blue and white. He leaned close, his beard brushing your temple. His voice, normally a graveled command, dropped to a warm, resonant whisper that seemed to belong only…