#kinda enjoy it actually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sprout-fics · 10 months

Text

Reprieve

(John Price x F! Reader)

(Breaking and Entering Epilogue)

Rating: General Audiences Wordcount: 2.2k Tags: Dad Price, Wife Reader, Fluff, Disgustingly sweet tooth rotting fluff, Some very minor angst, Price's adorable family, Gaz and Soap to the rescue, the boys take care of their captain, Cuddling, Uncle Gaz and Soap Warnings: None A/N: *Drops this and fucks off back to the woods*

Early as Price tends to rise, it’s somehow the girls that wake before him.

He ends up in the desk chair after all, head tucked into his chest, snoozing into his beard, snoring in a way you’ll no doubt chide him for come morning. The soft light of dawn filters through the shades, and the illumination is enough to rouse his daughters, who awake and talk over your still sleeping form with giggling little whispers.

Eventually they tire of their conversation, and try to rouse you. Still fatigued as you are after a restless night’s sleep, you only encourage them to go back to bed. Unsatisfied, they instead move on to Price, with his feet propped up on the edge of the bed, arms crossed and head down.

Price has never been a heavy sleeper. The years in the field have trained it out of him. However, the wear of last night’s events press heavy on his shoulders even in slumber, the emotional drain of nearly losing the three of you sapping away the energy he had left after escorting you all to the safety of his quarters. Yet when his two girls giggle and hush each other, gently prod his socked feet still balancing on the bed, he cranes a single, bleary eye open at them, watching them hide smiles behind their hands.

“Good morning, daddy.” The eldest offers cheerily, still quiet enough to not disturb you.

Price drags in a long inhale, lifts his head to look at the gray softness of dawn that seeps through the window.

“Morning indeed.” He offers with a grumble, voice still hoarse with sleep. He allows himself a few more moments before nodding to himself, lowering his feet so he can stretch. There’s more than one joint in his stiff body that pops, and it’s followed by a roll of his neck where the taut muscles of his spine collect, protesting his poor sleeping arrangement. It’s only after he’s finished settling himself that the younger of the two girls clambers into his lap, arranging herself so her nightgown partially covers her frigid legs before offering a pleased sigh. Price settles his arms around her, offering a few rubbing strokes to her legs to warm her and pressing a kiss into her hair.

The girls seem cheery enough, excited by the change in environment- a welcome distraction from the terror of the night before. As his youngest cuddles on his lap, her older sister peruses his bedroom, pokes at the intelligence papers on his desk that he really should have tucked away the night before, but doubts she will be able to read. Price watches her out of the corner of his eye, more focused on the sprawled, sleeping form of you still tucked in his bed.

Despite all the years he’s spent with you, he never tires of the sight of you, soft and comfortable in his bed, splayed so your head falls against the pillow, eyes fluttered shut and lips parted in sleep. By all accounts you look like a fallen angel, strangely delicate and austere within the realm of your dreams. A warm, familiar fondness falls over Price, eyes softening as he regards you. The gratitude of seeing you safe, relaxed and comfortable after the traumatizing acts of last night is a soothing, needed balm to his frayed nerves as he recalls the sound of the gunshot that could have ended it all.

Yet before the thought can sink its tenterhooks into him any further he watches you stir, eyes shifting beneath your closed gaze before you tilt your head in his direction, instinctively seeking him out. The sudden wave of possession that washes over him at the sight is nearly startling, a fierce, almost untamable instinct that surprises even him. The fact that the first thing you look for in the morning is him sparks something sharp and almost primal- a need to protect, to defend, to shelter and provide.

It only grows when your eyes focus on him, on the sight of your daughter curled on his lap, a fond, endearing smile tugging at your lips.

God help him. He thinks, trying not to imagine the reality where he’s without you.

“Good morning, John.” You murmur, and the way Price’s chest clenches is nothing short of painful, a breathlessness stolen by the beautiful sight of you.

He shifts, carefully deposits the little one on his lap onto the bed so he can brace himself above you, lowering a whiskery kiss down onto your cheek.

“Good morning.” He replies, voice still dragging in his chest, and you hum, turn your head so you can press a chaste, lingering kiss onto his lips. There’s a distant part of him that wishes you two were alone, so he could allow himself to appreciate you in all the ways he desires. He makes a mental note that, when all of this is settled, to take you on a vacation somewhere for a few days. Just the two of you.

The thought has to wait, because the youngest rolls over onto you with a little giggle, pleased at your wakefulness, seeking attention. You huff a little and drag her into your arms, offer her a little tickle that has her laughter grow louder.

There’s a tug on Price’s shirt then, his oldest drawing his attention back to her pinched, pleading expression.

“Daddy, I’m hungry.” She tells him, and Price’s thoughts begin to activate in full, trying to summon logistics, schedules, supplies.

“Right.” He mutters under his breath, a little lost, trying to find a compass amidst the unusual circumstances. You three can’t go back to the house yet, and the option of taking you down to the base cafeteria is…less than satisfying. Besides, Price doesn’t want his family wandering around the compound in view of God knows who, much less in their night clothes. Plus the girls will be restless soon enough, unaccustomed to this change in routine…

Price pinches the bridge of his nose with a stifled little groan.

It’s at that moment that someone knocks on the door.

The four of you look up at the sound, and it takes only a moment for your eyes to flit over to him, a vague concern crossing your features. Price nods at you to stay put, gently pushes his eldest towards the bed as well. She gladly climbs into bed, instantly pestering you with questions about where they are, when they’ll get breakfast, who’s at the door.

Price focuses on his visitor, cracking the door open just a few inches to reveal the broadly smiling, sunny face of Soap on the other side.

“Moooornin’ cap.” He drawls, and that tone speaks of things that are too much to deal with as soon as he’s woken up.

“Can it wait, Soap?” He asks sluggishly, and before Soap can respond a second face pops up beside him. Gaz.

“Actually, cap, we figured you and the girls might need a few things, so we…uh…took the liberty of making a supply run?”

Price blinks, then blinks again, opening the door a little wider as he processes. It’s only then that he notices the shopping bags carried by the two men, as well as a brown paper bag with a familiar logo printed on the front.

“McDonalds!!” His eldest exclaims, leaping from bed and darting forward before tumbling to a stop at Price’s side, remembering her manners.

“...Hello.” She offers shyly to the two towering men above her, partially hiding behind Price’s leg.

Soap and Gaz look at each other.

Then Soap bends down on one knee so he’s almost eye level with the young girl, offering a kind smile that somehow suits his features perfectly.

“Hello, lass.” He offers quietly, so as not to startle her. “Glad tae meet ye. My name is Soap-” He pauses to gesture at the other sergeant standing above him a little awkwardly. “-and this is Gaz.”

“Soap?” His daughter giggles adorably, relaxing noticeably. “That’s a funny name.”

Soap grins.

Then she tugs on Price’s pant leg, looking up at him pleadingly.

“Daddy can I?” She asks, imploring, eyes darting from him to the McDonald’s bag meaningfully.

Price nods, still reeling a little from it all in his bleary state, and she squeals happily, snatches the happy meal from Soap’s hands and bounces back towards the bed. Price follows her with his gaze, where you’re now sat up against the headboard, looking just as bewildered as he feels. Your eyes dart from him to the men at the door, looking to Price for a cue on how to handle this strange circumstance.

“We also have some clothes and toys.” Gaz offers a bit timidly, the plastic bag rustling as he holds it aloft. He leans to peer past Price, looking at you. “Apologies, ma’am, had to guess your size.”

You shake your head, face falling open with gratitude. “Thank you…Gaz.” You try, and it makes Gaz straighten a little, pleased with himself.

Price finds himself opening the door for the two, allowing them a rare entrance into his quarters as they deposit their supplies. Soap busies himself with assisting you, ensuring the girls are satisfied with their food, carefully offering you a change of clothes. Price watches him take the liberty of draping a brand new shawl about your shoulders, and then startling at the stormy, warning look on the captain’s face at getting too close, his hands raising in defense. You only laugh, murmur a thank you to Soap, weary but more appreciative than you can profess.

Price is distracted by Gaz gently pushing a cup of coffee into his hands, a palm settling on his shoulder in a firm reassurance.

“Ghost’s gone to see about some arrangements.” He tells his captain softly so you can’t hear. “Seeing if he can convince the base commander to get some temporary housing for you all.”

Price’s chest swells with an immense gratitude, one that chokes his throat. He offers only a numb little nod to his sergeant, who’s eyes soften in understanding. Yet then a wry sort of humor passes over his gaze.

“He also didn’t want to spook the girls with his grim reaper get-up.” He adds, and Price nearly splutters on his coffee. Gaz laughs, claps him on the shoulder heartily.

Price sips his coffee, watching his two girls converse seriously over the toys included in their meals placed on your lap, with you carefully reminding them to thank the two sergeants once more.

Soap comes up on his other side, giving the three of you some space, crossing his arms and tilting his head over to his captain.

“What are their names?” He asks quietly, and Price glances at him out of the corner of his eyes at the mischievous little smirk pulling at the corner of Soap’s mouth.

Price clears his throat, and one by one nods to the three most important girls in his life.

“Mary.” He announces quietly, looking to his eldest. “Alice.” To her younger sister.

And you.

You, his beloved wife, his preciously kept secret, the thing that convinced him that maybe, in this world of evil and violence he lives in, that there’s still happiness left for him.

There’s a profound, blissful silence that washes over Price’s small quarters, beautiful and tender and far, far more than he deserves. There’s things he wants to say, wants to explain to the two men beside him, but the grace of their presence leaves him strangely wordless, faltering in his own attempts to speak.

“Thank you.” He declares at last, voice a little choked in a way he knows they’ll tease him about later.

“Always, cap.” Gaz declares beside him, equally soft, gracious and understanding.

The silence settles once more, and Price watches you as you listen to something your youngest has said, head tilting back in twinkling laughter. You look at him then, and the utter adoration, the thankfulness and love in your eyes nearly sends him to his knees.

“They’re beautiful.” Soap murmurs, only loud enough for Price to hear.

“They are.” Price agrees, swallowing down a thickness in his throat that rises with emotion.

There are days sometimes where he has to convince himself what he does in his work is right, stares into his blood streaked palms and tells himself it’s to create a world where his girls can grow up safe. He reminds himself as he snaps bones, fires shot after shot, walks away from scarred battlefields wrought by his hands.

By all means necessary, he thinks. Whatever it takes.

He’d burn the world to ashes to keep you all safe.

He doesn’t deserve you three, he knows that. It’s selfish of him to have this in the shadow of all the lives he’s taken, the things he’s destroyed. Yet despite the blood on his hands, the violence that’s long since weaved its way into his blood, you take him in your hands and lift him to your waiting lips, bestowing upon him endless grace and love that threatens to crack his heart open just so there’s another place to hold you.

Maybe he doesn’t deserve it. Maybe he hasn’t yet earned this thing before him, with your beautifully fond eyes looking down at the world the two of you have created. Despite it all, despite the things Price has done, the things he’s yet to do…

He wants it.

#John price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #my writing #cod mw2 #cod mw2022 #mw2 #call of duty mw2 #I'm not actually back from hiatus I'm just kinda tossing this out there while I deal with shit #Enjoy loves

1K notes · View notes