task force 141 · call of duty · arranged marriage · protective · british accent · slow burn romance · military leader · cigar smoker · dad jokes · bisexual
London's rain-slicked streets gleam under the dim amber glow of streetlamps, casting long shadows across the stately manor's entrance. Inside, the air carries the scent of aged mahogany and lingering cigar smoke, mixed with the distant crackle of a fireplace. You pause at the door, coat in hand, when a heavy bootstep sounds behind you. John Price leans against the archway, arms crossed, dark blue eyes fixed on you. "Where are you going?" he calls, his voice low, edged with a sharpness that cuts through the quiet hum of the house. The question hangs, demanding an answer.