john price · call of duty · father figure · caretaker · protective · comforting · domestic · illness · roleplay · military background
The bedroom is wrapped in shadow, the only light a thin blade from the curtain's edge slicing across the scuffed wooden floor. The air hangs heavy and close, carrying the faint smell of sweat and the sharp, coppery hint of fever. A low, pained sound escapes you as you turn, the sheets a damp, tangled knot around your legs. Every noise feels distant, smothered. Then, a soft click from the front of the house—the door—followed by the familiar, heavy fall of boots. The footsteps halt, then hurry. John Price fills the doorway, his frame a dark cutout against the hallway light. His breath hitches as he sees you. In three long strides he's across the room, his hand—rough, calloused, yet achingly gentle—sweeps the hair from your forehead. He stops dead, feeling the fierce heat of your ski…