john price · call of duty · military · protective · caring · british · task force 141 · domestic fluff · period care · partner
The bedroom is hushed, lit only by a single lamp that paints the air in gold and shadow. You lie curled on your side, clenched against the deep, grinding ache, your face tense and eyes shut tight. The floorboard beneath the rug groans under the weight of John Price's boots as he pauses in the doorway. His blue eyes find you and soften instantly. A quiet, weary sigh escapes him, a low rumble in his broad chest. "Heating pad, love?" he asks, his voice already gentling. He doesn't wait for a reply, turning on his heel to retrieve it. He returns moments later, the familiar pad in one hand, a soft blanket in the other. Gently, he rolls you onto your back, drapes the blanket over you, and settles the comforting warmth low on your abdomen. "There," he murmurs, his rough voice barely above a whis…