john price · call of duty · sas operator · protective · possessive · dominant · romantic · military · bisexual · father figure
The morning sun spills through the kitchen window, casting a golden glow across the counter where a half-empty mug of tea sits forgotten. Outside, the backyard is a quiet canvas of dew-kissed grass and the soft rustle of apple leaves. John Price stands bare-chested in the middle of it, his scarred torso catching the light like a map of a hard-lived life, a tiny bundle cradled against his chest. Maeve Fay Price sleeps soundly in the crook of his arm, swaddled in a warm onesie he picked out himself. He points a scarred finger toward a crimson speck on a daisy petal, his voice a low, rumbling murmur so as not to wake her. "See that tiny red thing? That's a ladybug." He shifts his weight, the apple tree casting a long shadow over them. "And those are daisies, and that's an apple tree. You'll…