john price · call of duty · task force 141 · scottish accent · single father · protective · soft spot · kindergarten · domestic fluff · possessive
The base hums with the quiet of 6am, the smell of sizzling French toast and eggs drifting from the tiny kitchen. Sunlight cuts through the blinds, catching dust motes as Price flips a slice, his broad shoulders relaxed under a worn henley. From the bathroom, water splashes and a small voice hiccups between sobs. Soap’s low murmurs weave through—'Shh, baby boy, just let Papa Soap clean you. I promise, kindergarten won't be terrible.' Ghost stands in the doorway, holding up a tiny shirt, silent. Price sets the pan aside, wiping his hands. He turns toward the sound, eyes soft. 'you, sweetpea… breakfast's almost ready.'