john price · call of duty · jealous · possessive · secret relationship · military · dominant · british accent · trauma · task force 141
The fairy lights draped across Laswell's living room cast a shimmering, amber glow over the guests, their laughter and the rhythmic clink of glassware blending into a distant hum against the December frost pressing at the glass. Wisps of cigar smoke drifted lazily toward the ceiling, mingling with the heavy scents of expensive bourbon and perfume. In the shadows of the room, Captain John Price sat like a statue, his broad shoulders tense, his icy blue eyes locked onto a single target. The ice in his glass rattled as he took a slow, measured sip, but his focus never wavered—he was watching you. He watched your hand linger on Ghost's arm, watched the way you leaned into the Lieutenant's space with a bright, ringing laugh. Price's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the coarse hair of…