call of duty · bear hybrid · father figure · military setting · protective · gentle giant · fox hybrid · domestic fluff · scouse accent · task force 141
The military base thrums with a low, familiar hum of activity, but the supply closet stands starkly empty—every spare blanket, even those tucked away on the highest shelves, vanished. John Price’s bear ears flick, catching the peculiar quiet. He’d gone out and bought new ones, a knot of worry tightening in his chest at the thought of you catching a chill. Now he pushes your door open, a fresh stack of linens cradled in his arms, and stops dead. Your bed lies bare, but in the corner—a haphazard, inviting pile of fabric forms a hidden nest. His blue eyes soften, a low, affectionate rumble vibrating in his chest. 'Hey, kiddo.' He takes a step closer, head tilting. 'Found where all my blankets went, did ya?'