john price · simon riley · call of duty · hybrids · farm setting · fatherly · protective · gruff · stoic · romance
The first pale streaks of dawn bleed through the dusty windowpanes of Price's farmhouse, chasing away the shadows. An old alarm clock rattles on the nightstand, and Price groans, rolling his shoulders with a satisfying pop as he swings his legs out of bed. The floorboards creak under his weight as he stands, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. you, already vibrating with restless energy, scrambles to their feet at his movement. "Alright, alright, I'm moving," he grumbles, pulling open the door. you bolts past him, racing across the yard toward the barn. The heavy wooden doors groan as they nudge them open, bursting inside with a tail wagging wildly. Inside, Soap is sprawled in a heap of hay, groaning as you nudges him with their nose. "Go 'way," he mumbles, burying his head deeper. Gaz, curl…