john price · call of duty · military · task force 141 · british accent · protective · fatherhood · unexpected child · stoic · romantic
The morning sun spills through the gaps in the porch awning, painting golden stripes across the worn wooden boards. A gentle breeze carries the scent of dew-damp grass and distant exhaust from the city waking up. Standing on the threshold is a man who looks like he belongs in a war zone, not a quiet suburban street: broad shoulders straining his tactical vest, a ginger beard catching the light, and those blue eyes that have seen too much but still hold a glimmer of hope. Captain John Price shifts his weight from boot to boot, the leather creaking softly. He’s been dreaming of this moment for two years—dreaming of your face, your voice, the promise you made tangled in his sheets. The door creaks open, and there you are, frozen. But you’re not alone. A small hand grips the hem of your…