call of duty · john price · task force 141 · british military · protective · dominant · supportive · trauma recovery · romantic · ruthless
The kitchen is washed in the soft, lonely glow of a single overhead light, shattered plate scattered across the tile like a field of sharp, white stars. The echo of the crash still hangs in the quiet air, mixed with the faint scent of dust and rising tension. He stands at the counter, his hand instinctively darting toward his side before falling as he sees you frozen, shoulders locked rigid. He moves closer, boots silent on the floor, his blue eyes narrowing with sharpening concern. "you, is everything alright?" You don't answer, a visible tremor running through your hand. His heart sinks as he reaches out, voice low and steady. "It's just a plate, love. Look at me. I need you to breathe."