#Toxic! Captain Price

[msilwrites]

Papa Bear Material Ch 9 (Captain Price Fic) - The Set Up!

Chapter 1  Chapter 1 (Shorter Version) Chapter 2  Chapter 3   Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8

@darkangel4121@teenagellamaangel@madzzz0797@callsignferal(To the other’s who want me to tag you when there’s an update, just tell me at the comments) A/N: Hello, everyone! So, it seems the Captain has you right where he wants you. No matter how much you try to slip away, there’s no escaping him—he’s determined, and he will have you. 😉 This chapter might feel a little longer as I’ve focused on building up the chase and the tension between you two. But I promise, it’s worth it! If you’re feeling impatient, feel free to scroll ahead to when the Captain finally ‘captures’ you. 😏 LOL! Enjoy the ride, and let me know what you think! ❤️

The door creaked open, and in stepped the doctor, holding a clipboard with the results of Y/N's x-rays and scans. He gave her a once-over, then glanced at the paper before meeting her eyes.

"Alright, Ms. Y/N, good news. No concussion, your neck’s just a little twisted from the impact. Your arm, though—well, that’s definitely going to need some time to heal, but we can work with it." He made a note, looking at her bandaged face. "The cuts on your face will need some care, but nothing too serious. Just take some painkillers when you eat, and you should be good to go."

Y/N sighed in relief but winced at the sting of her injuries. She was just about to ask if she could leave without the next part when the doctor added, “Now, we need someone to sign for you to be discharged and for the medication prescription. I’m assuming your partner—” He paused, glancing at Price, who was still leaning against the bed, looking annoyingly perfect—“can handle that?”

Before Y/N could protest, Price was already nodding, a smirk playing on his lips. "Aye, I can do that," he replied smoothly, as though he’d been expecting it.

The doctor, clearly oblivious to the irritation bubbling up inside her, glanced between them with a raised eyebrow, then nodded and scribbled something down on his clipboard. “Great. I’ll get the paperwork ready. Just make sure she follows the painkiller instructions.”

Y/N glared at Price, her good arm crossed over her chest. “I swear, if you start acting like we’re actually a couple—”

Price shot her a quick, playful wink. “You’re gonna have to get used to it, love!”

The doctor left, and Y/N turned to look at Price, narrowing her eyes. “You’re unbearable,” she muttered.

Price leaned in closer, his voice lowering to something almost flirtatious. “You know you like it.”

Y/N groaned and rolled her eyes, but it was impossible to ignore the spark of something—embarrassment, frustration, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of... affection?

As the minutes dragged on, Y/N lay there, staring at the sterile ceiling, her mind racing but her body unable to do anything more than ache in protest. Price sat beside her, arms crossed, exuding a mix of concern and frustration, and it was clear to her that the tension between them was building. The hum of hospital activity around them did nothing to break the silence, only adding to the weight in the air. She could feel his eyes on her, practically searing through her skin, and she didn’t know if it was his gaze or the pain in her arm that was making her more uncomfortable.

Finally, Price broke the silence with an exasperated sigh. “You’ve got some bloody nerve, you know that? Running around like a madwoman, getting yourself hurt like that.”

Y/N turned her head towards him, raising an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement breaking through the discomfort. “Excuse me?”

He leaned forward, his voice low but filled with that trademark commanding tone she couldn’t escape. “The moment I found out... and then seeing all those bloody gifs from your colleagues flooding the chat... I knew I had to come see for myself. Make sure you weren’t in a body bag. All for what? A USB?”

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the guilt trying to creep in. “I wasn’t the one in the body bag, now was I?”

“No, but you nearly bloody were!” He shot back, his voice sharp with frustration. “You fought someone twice your size, for god’s sake. What the hell were you thinking? And that slap to your face—” He gestured toward the ugly bruise on her cheek. “That wasn’t exactly part of the plan, was it?”

Y/N winced at the reminder but quickly covered it with a snarky smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry, should I have asked them to go easier on me? I had to do what I had to do, Price. That USB had information that would’ve blown the whole operation to pieces. If I didn’t keep it safe, we’d be looking at a lot more than a bruise on my face.”

Her tone shifted, just a touch of defiance in her voice. “I did what I had to do. And they fought the wrong bitch. Unfortunately for them, though, I’m too bloody good at what I do.”

Price scowled, his brows furrowing as he leaned in closer. “Don’t make it sound like it’s just another day at the office, Y/N. You’re not invincible. You can’t just take a hit and keep moving.” His voice softened slightly, but the intensity in his gaze remained. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Her eyes softened, a small, almost imperceptible smile pulling at her lips, but she wasn’t about to let him have the last word just yet. “What do you care? I’m an operator. It’s my job. It’s not like—”

She stopped, realizing she had said too much. But before she could backpedal, Price cut her off, his voice suddenly more serious.

“I care because, damn it, I don’t want to see you thrown around like that. You’re not just some bloody operator to me.”

The way he said it, with so much sincerity, made her heart stutter in her chest. His usual teasing edge was gone, replaced by something raw, something real. She didn’t know how to respond, how to fight back against the warmth creeping up her neck.

“John…” she whispered, her voice wavering slightly. She wanted to say something sarcastic, to brush off the strange flutter in her chest, but his steady gaze had her frozen. It was almost as if, for the first time, he was letting her see the concern behind the bravado.

“You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, haven’t you?” he said softly, almost to himself.

Y/N was silent for a moment, her pulse racing. She didn’t know what to say, how to make light of it, how to respond without revealing too much. Finally, she simply said, "You should probably stop before you start singing ‘I Can’t Help Falling in Love’."

Price’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. But then his expression shifted—his gaze darkened, those piercing blue eyes locking onto hers with such intensity that her breath hitched. It was the look. The one that said more than words ever could.

Y/N felt her stomach flip, her heart racing faster than she could process. She tried to look away, but his stare held her captive, his blue eyes pulling her in like a magnet. The room seemed to shrink, the noise of the hospital fading into nothing as she became acutely aware of every inch of him sitting so close. She felt her face heat up, warmth spreading across her cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Price…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She had to look away, had to break the spell he’d cast over her. But her body wouldn’t cooperate. Her eyes fluttered, and for the first time, she couldn’t find the right words to shield herself from the effect he had on her.

He leaned in just a little, his gaze never leaving hers. “What’s wrong, love?” he asked, his voice low, the teasing edge gone, replaced by something softer. Something that made her heart feel like it might burst out of her chest.

Y/N had never wanted to look away more in her life, but she couldn't. She swallowed hard, her mind spinning in a haze, cursing the fact that her face was no doubt as red as a tomato.

"Never mind," she muttered, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. She quickly turned her head, avoiding his intense gaze, though she could still feel the weight of it on her skin.

Her eyes darted to the side, desperate to find something—anything—to focus on other than him. But she swore she caught the smallest, most self-assured grin tugging at the corner of Price’s lips. It was as though he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and it made her feel utterly exposed.

She shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of how her pulse quickened every time she thought about his gaze. She didn’t know how to escape it, and for the first time, Y/N realized there was no hiding from the effect John Price had on her.

----------

Price insisted on driving her home, a suggestion that, under normal circumstances, Y/N might have entertained. But these weren’t normal circumstances. She was still too suspicious, too guarded to let him know where she lived. The last thing she needed was him showing up unannounced, and she wasn’t about to let him in on that little detail.

“I’m fine, Price,” she said quickly, sitting up a little straighter. “I’ll head to the unit’s base. My stuff’s there, and I’ve got work tomorrow. I’ll be better off just sleeping there for the night. You know, book in at camp, like we sometimes do.”

Price’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening in that way she knew all too well. “Book in? You sure about that? Something smells off.”

Y/N waved him off with a feigned nonchalance, trying her best to sound convincing. “I’m fine, seriously. No need to worry about me.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’ve got that ‘I’m trying to get away from you’ look on your face. What’s really going on?”

She met his eyes, her resolve firm. “Nothing’s going on. Just, you know, work stuff. Base. I'll go home tomorrow.”

Price just stared at her for a moment longer, then sighed, clearly giving in to whatever bizarre reasoning she had going on. “Fine. If you’re so determined, I’ll take you back to the base. But this isn’t over.”

“Great, thanks,” she muttered, trying to suppress a grin. She had won this round.

----------

Once they arrived at the unit’s base, Y/N made a swift exit, eager to put some space between herself and Price. She stepped out of the lift, onto her floor, and walked briskly down the hallway toward the unit’s office. Before she could make it inside, however, a loud chorus of voices stopped her in her tracks.

Her colleagues had clearly been waiting for her, and as she stepped into the room, they erupted into loud cheers and applause.

“Look who’s back! The turtle’s shell is tougher than we thought!” one of them called out with a wide grin, prompting an exaggerated cheer from the others.

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “Stop it, you lot. I didn’t ask for a bloody welcome back party.”

Another colleague, waving a mock trophy above his head, added, “Give it up for Y/N, the toughest of them all! No one’s messing with the turtle!”

Her teammates were practically in hysterics, and the teasing continued for several minutes before it finally died down. Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to keep her composure, but deep down, she couldn't help but feel a warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest. It was moments like this—surrounded by her quirky, loyal team—that made all the madness of the job worth it.

“Alright, alright,” she said with a raised hand in mock surrender, her grin impossible to hide.

As her colleagues finally began to disperse, she let out a deep breath, still chuckling at their ridiculous antics. But despite the laughter, her mind wandered back to her earlier encounter with Price—and how, for a brief moment, she almost didn’t mind the idea of him getting a little too close.

----------

Later that evening, Captain Price discovered the truth. Y/N wasn’t staying the night at the base as she had claimed. He saw her—half waddling, half hopping—onto the unit’s bus just as it was about to depart. It was meant to take staff to the nearby train station, a clear sign that she was heading home despite her earlier insistence.

The sight of her settling into a window seat on the crowded bus made him pause. Y/N, caught off guard, locked eyes with him through the glass. Her face froze in surprise for a split second before she quickly turned her head, pretending she hadn’t seen him. Her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her bag as she tried to appear indifferent.

Price stood there outside, arms crossed, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. He didn’t have to say a word; the weight of his stare said enough. Y/N could feel it pressing on her even as she resolutely avoided looking back.

Her only saving grace was that tomorrow was the weekend. She wouldn’t have to face him—or his inevitable questions—for at least two days. ----------

Y/N stretched lazily on her sofa, her stomach pleasantly full from her third takeout meal of the weekend. A collection of cartons cluttered her coffee table, evidence of her commitment to staying in. Wrapped in her coziest blanket, she scrolled idly through the endless void of streaming options, her mind blissfully blank—except for the persistent notifications on her phone.

Captain Price.

The messages had started Friday evening, a steady stream of charm, wit, and mild exasperation, each one left on read. Ignoring him had been easy at first, the kind of defiance that felt both amusing and oddly satisfying. But by Sunday, the guilt was beginning to creep in, as was the awareness that she was, perhaps, enjoying his attention a little too much.

Friday Evening Price: "Ah, so you are seeing these. Leaving me on read, are we? Cheeky. How about this: a quiet drink, no fuss. Just say the word, and I’ll pick the spot."

Saturday Morning Price: "Still not a peep from you. I’ll bet you’re curled up in bed, hiding under a duvet and feeling quite smug. Enjoy it while you can, love. I’m not that easy to ignore."

Saturday Lunchtime Price: "Alright, Y/N. What’s it going to be—coffee, tea, or something stronger? Whatever it is, my treat. Unless, of course, you’ve decided to make ghosting me your weekend hobby."

Saturday Evening Price: "You’ve got a talent for this, I’ll give you that. Leaving me on read again. What’s the matter, too shy to say no? Let me make it easy for you—just meet me for a bite. No questions, no pressure. Don’t let me starve alone, eh?"

She chuckled softly at that one, but still didn’t respond. Her takeaway had arrived moments later, and her commitment to laziness outweighed any inclination to text back.

Sunday Morning Price: "You’re relentless, aren’t you? Can’t even send me a cheeky little ‘no thanks.’ Fine, I’ll play your game. But if you’re still hiding come midday, don’t think I won’t find out where that flat of yours is."

Her eyes lingered on that one a little longer, her lips twitching into a smirk. She shook her head and set her phone aside. He was bluffing. Probably.

Sunday Lunchtime Price: "Alright, love, this is getting predictable now. Another takeaway, is it? No shame in admitting you’ve run out of ideas. Let me take you somewhere. I promise I won’t bite… unless you ask."

Her laughter bubbled up unbidden as she read the latest message, a part of her almost tempted to respond. But the lure of her blanket and the promise of another nap won out. She placed her phone face down and curled up, thinking smugly that he’d give up eventually.

But then, her phone buzzed again. This time, something about it made her pause. She reached for it hesitantly, her heart skipping a beat as she unlocked the screen.

"You’ve got a wicked streak, leaving me hanging like this. But fair warning, Y/N—I’m even more wicked when I’m crossed."

A moment later, another message buzzed in.

"Monday’s coming, love. You think you’ve won this little game of hide and seek, but let me tell you exactly how it’ll play out. First, I’ll find you the second you walk into the office. Don’t bother looking for an escape—I’ll already be there, waiting."

"And when I do, you’ll have to face me, love. Every glance you’ve been dodging, every word you’ve ignored—it’s all catching up to you. I’ll stand so close you’ll feel my breath against your ear, hear every word I’ve been saving just for you."

"I’ll tell you how much I’ve enjoyed watching you test me all weekend, how much I’ve been looking forward to seeing that pretty face go red when you realize you’ve pushed me too far. And then, Y/N, I’ll make sure you know exactly what happens when you leave me on read again. Ignoring me wasn’t the safer option, was it?"

Y/N’s hand froze mid-swipe on her phone, her heart thudding against her ribs. She could practically feel the heat of his gaze through the screen. The words lingered like a challenge, daring her to respond, but instead, her thoughts raced.

Monday loomed ahead, and with it came the inevitability of seeing Price. If he caught her, there’d be no way to avoid the fallout. The office teasing would go from lighthearted to unbearable in an instant. After all, they were already buzzing with rumors that Captain Price fancied her. The jokes and side-eyes were one thing, but if she gave him an inch, it could spiral into something far worse.

Unprofessional. Embarrassing. Impossible to ignore.

She reminded herself that this wasn’t forever. Just one more week. One week of keeping her head down, playing cordial when necessary, and dodging Price’s relentless pursuit. When her reservist period ended, she could vanish—no awkward confrontations, no more tension.

With that plan in mind, she took a deep breath, determined to defuse the situation. Her fingers hovered over her phone screen, finally drafting a reply she hoped would put him off—without fanning the flames.

"I’m sorry, Captain, for the late response. My dominant hand is the one injured, and I can’t really type easily," she typed, knowing it wasn’t entirely a lie. Her arm had been hurt during the operation and again when she got hit by the police van. But it wasn’t the whole truth either.

She hesitated before adding, "As for drinks and dinner, sorry—I’m not feeling well. The painkillers and meds are making me drowsy." Another half-truth.

Satisfied, she hit send, her heart still pounding as the message delivered.

A few minutes after sending the message, her phone buzzed again—this time, a call. She wasn’t even surprised. Of course, it was the Captain.

Y/N stared at the screen, debating whether to answer. She had already crafted the perfect excuse in her message; surely that should have been enough. But the insistent ringing told her otherwise. With a sigh of resignation, she tapped the screen, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Hello, Captain,” she said softly, infusing her voice with just enough weariness to sell her excuse. She wasn’t feeling her best, that much was true, but she leaned into the sluggish tone, exaggerating it just a touch.

His deep voice cut through, warm and laced with concern. “You don’t sound well, love. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I didn’t want to trouble anyone,” she replied carefully, keeping her tone neutral. “It’s nothing serious, just the meds making me tired.”

“Still, you should’ve let someone know. You’ve been through the wringer; no one would’ve blamed you for taking it easy.”

She hummed faintly, feigning drowsiness. “I’ll be fine, Captain. Just need to rest.”

There was a pause, long enough to make her glance at the screen to check if the call had dropped. But then his voice came through again, low and insistent. “If you need anything—and I mean anything—you let me know. Don’t go toughing it out on your own.”

“Of course,” she replied, her tone measured. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Get some rest,” he added, the warmth in his voice undeniable. “And Y/N... don’t think for a second I’ll let you off the hook for dodging me all weekend.”

She smiled faintly despite herself. “Goodnight, Captain.”

“Goodnight, love.”

She ended the call, sinking back into her sofa with a quiet exhale. Neutral or not, conversations with Captain Price always left her feeling like she’d just walked a tightrope.

---------

And so, Monday arrived. Y/N was officially excused from the drills due to her injuries, leaving her with more downtime than she cared for. By the afternoon, she had retreated to the rooftop, seeking a quiet moment to herself. The crisp air and the hum of distant activity below offered a brief reprieve.

She wasn’t startled by the sound of footsteps approaching or the creak of the rooftop door swinging open. She didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was.

John Price.

The Captain strode toward her with the same calm, unshakable confidence he carried everywhere, his boots crunching softly on the rooftop gravel. His eyes locked onto hers, steady and intense, as he stopped just a few feet away.

“You know,” he began, his voice low, tinged with amusement, “I’d say you put up a good fight this whole time. But technically... you lost.”

Y/N sighed, her fingers momentarily clenching into fists at her sides. Of course. That deal. That ridiculous deal. If he outscored her in the drills, she’d agree to a date. Now, with her injuries keeping her sidelined, she hadn’t even had a chance to compete.

“That’s not exactly fair,” she shot back, leaning into her chair, throwing him a half-hearted glare. “I couldn’t even join the drills. Doesn’t exactly feel like a win for you.”

Price tilted his head slightly, a teasing smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Rules are rules, love. No score from you means my score wins by default. Doesn’t seem like a problem for me.”

She exhaled a quiet laugh through her nose, frustration mixing with reluctant amusement. “So, what? You’re here to rub it in?”

“Not my style,” he replied smoothly, though the glint in his eye said otherwise. He took a step closer, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m here to collect. You owe me a date. After your reservist period, of course. I’ll give you time to prepare yourself.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, caught between irritation and something else she wasn’t ready to admit. “Fine. After the reservist,” she replied finally, her voice firm, though her lips betrayed a faint, reluctant smirk.

Price grinned back, triumphant but impossibly charming. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Her lips twitched as though she might scowl, but she kept her composure. Instead, she turned her gaze back toward the horizon, letting his words linger in the air.

Keep cordial, her inner voice urged. Make it look like you gave up. Just until the reservist period.

----------

Throughout the week, Y/N kept things cordial with Captain Price, her responses measured and her expression neutral. She made sure to maintain a distance, neither too distant nor too familiar. Her usual sharp edge was subdued, but she wasn’t about to let herself get too comfortable, not with the promise of a date hanging over her head.

On the final day of her reservist period, Y/N made her rounds, bidding her chief and colleagues farewell. She offered a polite smile, keeping it brief. "See you all for the next round," she said, her voice calm and steady. She’d done what she came for—no more, no less.

She surrendered her building pass, her movements slow and deliberate, the weight of the week pressing heavily on her shoulders. Her mind was already elsewhere, focused on the quiet evening ahead. The plan was simple: order a ride from the app, go home, and finally take a moment to breathe.

But as she walked toward the gate entrance, her steps faltered. There, leaning casually against his vehicle, was John Price. Arms crossed, his expression unreadable, his posture relaxed but commanding all the same. The sight of him made her heart skip an unexpected beat.

She hadn’t expected him to be there, not like this, not after the deal had been made. She stopped a few paces away, the weight of the evening, the past week, settling into her chest.

Y/N schooled her expression into neutrality, masking the flicker of surprise that threatened to surface. She came to a stop a few paces away, meeting his steady gaze without wavering.

“Captain,” she said evenly, her tone as measured as her face. “What are you doing here?”

Price straightened slightly, his arms uncrossing as he pushed off the vehicle with an easy grace. His hands slid into his pockets, his demeanor as unhurried as ever. “Thought I’d drive you home,” he replied, his voice calm but laced with a teasing undertone. “Get you comfy, send you off proper.”

Her brows lifted, skepticism flickering across her features before she quickly subdued it. “I thought we had plans for the weekend,” she countered, tilting her head. “Isn’t that what you’re waiting for?”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, the faintest hint of amusement glinting in his eyes. “We do,” he confirmed, his voice low and deliberate. “But I figured tonight’s about seeing you off, not keeping you waiting. Besides,” he added, stepping closer, “I wanted to make sure you didn’t disappear on me.”

Y/N held her ground, her gaze steady despite the subtle tightening of her grip on her bag. “I gave you my word,” she said simply. “I’m not backing out.”

Price’s grin widened slightly, his head dipping in acknowledgment. “Good,” he murmured, his tone carrying the weight of certainty. “Then let me take care of you tonight. Call it a preview of what’s to come.”

She sighed softly, shifting her weight but making no move to walk past him. “I can handle getting home on my own, you know.”

Y/N sighed softly, her voice steady despite the weariness weighing on her words. “Captain, we’re already seeing each other this weekend. Can’t that be enough?” She straightened her posture slightly, trying to inject just enough firmness into her tone. “I’m tired. I’d really like some space tonight. Besides, I’ve already booked a ride—it’ll be here any minute to take me home.”

Price tilted his head, his lips quirking into that infuriatingly knowing smirk. “Booked a ride, huh?” he drawled, his tone edged with playful suspicion. “Sounds a bit fishy to me.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she let out a quiet, deliberately exasperated sigh, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Fishy? Really?” she asked, her voice drowsy, tired, as if the conversation itself was draining her. “What could possibly be fishy, Captain? You’ve already got me cornered, don’t you? What else is there?”

For a moment, he didn’t reply. Instead, he looked at her, his cerulean blue eyes piercing and unyielding. The intensity of his gaze felt like it could strip away every layer she’d carefully constructed, leaving her flustered and raw. Y/N could feel the heat rise in her cheeks, her throat tightening slightly as she swallowed hard. She considered looking away but found herself unable to break the moment. Against all odds, she held his gaze, her breath catching in her chest.

Her heart raced, and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was from the exhaustion or the way his stare seemed to unravel her with disarming ease. It was as if the entire world had narrowed to just the two of them, the quiet tension filling the air like a tangible presence.

Just then, the sound of a car pulling up shattered the spell. Y/N blinked, the moment breaking as her ride arrived, offering a welcome distraction. Price glanced toward the vehicle, his smirk softening into something less teasing, more gentlemanly. Without a word, he stepped forward, pulling the door open for her with effortless grace.

Y/N murmured a quiet thanks, slipping into the car with relief as her pulse began to steady once more.

----------

Saturday arrived, and much to Price’s chagrin, his suspicions were confirmed—she had ghosted him. His messages went unanswered, his calls ignored, and every attempt to reach her was met with the cold reality of being left on read. At first, he tried to rationalize it. She was recovering, after all—injuries from the last operation and being hit by a van weren’t minor. Surely, she just needed time to herself.

But the nagging doubt refused to be silenced. Something didn’t sit right. Price wasn’t one to let things slide easily, especially not when it came to her. Eventually, suspicion got the better of him. He picked up the phone and called Gaz.

“Check on her, mate,” Price said, his tone firm but edged with an undercurrent of frustration. “See if she’s alright or if she’s just... dodging me.”

Gaz, ever loyal, agreed with a chuckle and promised to get back to him.

When Gaz finally called back, his voice carried that unmistakable tone of amusement. “Price,” he began, clearly holding back a laugh, “I hate to break it to you, but it looks like Y/N’s ghosting you. She’s fine. Healthy, alive, and very capable of responding—injuries or not. She’s just… apparently not interested in answering you.”

Price groaned, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. Gaz's teasing on the other end only made it worse. “You’re really going to let her play you like that, Captain?”

Price shot back, trying to suppress his irritation, “I’m not letting her play me. I just need to get her attention.”

Gaz’s voice was laced with amusement as he responded, “Need some help, Captain? You want me to help smoke her out, get her to show her hand?”

Price paused, a thoughtful frown crossing his face. The idea wasn’t half bad. He might’ve preferred a more subtle approach, but if it came to coaxing her out of whatever funk she was in, he’d take any route that worked.

“Yeah,” Price muttered after a beat. “Smoke her out. Let’s see if we can get her to respond.”

Gaz chuckled. “Roger that, Captain. I’ll keep you posted.”

----------

A day later, Gaz messaged Y/N, inviting her out for another meal at the grill house. “Fresh out of reservist, thought you’d fancy a proper catch-up with the team,” he wrote, his tone lighthearted and familiar.

Y/N hesitated before responding. “I really can’t go out right now,” she explained. “Still healing from the injuries. Maybe once I’m fully healed up, I’ll join you guys again. Heck, I can’t even use my dominant arm to put on makeup or cover the scars on my face.”

Gaz read the message and nodded to himself, respecting her honesty. “Fair enough,” he replied. “Rest up. We’ll catch up when you’re back to full strength.”

The days turned into weeks. With time, Y/N began to recover, though it was a gradual process. The bruising faded within a month, and while her broken arm and leg required more time—closer to 8-10 weeks for proper healing—she was at least mobile again, albeit cautiously. By then, she could sense the weight of her inactivity lifting, her focus shifting toward regaining her full independence.

----------

Y/N opened her phone and checked the group chat, where one of her friends had organized a dinner at a sleek, smart-casual bar for the upcoming Friday night. It sounded like the perfect opportunity to get out, and nearly everyone would be there, including Gaz.

She typed a quick reply, “That sounds perfect. I have something scheduled that day, but I’ll be able to catch up with all of you afterward. I’ll be looking presentable enough after my meeting with the gallery curator. It’s a nice bonus that the bar is smart-casual, so I won’t have to worry about changing. I’m almost back to normal now—my arm’s almost fully functional, and I can walk without wobbling.”

The chat quickly filled with confirmation messages. It was settled—the group would meet on Friday night. Some of her friends couldn’t make it as they were deployed or on duty, but a good portion would be there, and Gaz would be joining them as well.

The meeting with the curator was later that day, and it went better than she’d hoped. He loved her work and was eager to feature her pieces in an upcoming exhibit. The only thing left was to wait for the official paperwork to sign once the contract was finalized.

After the meeting wrapped up successfully, Y/N headed to the bar. It was sleek and modern, exactly the kind of place where she could unwind after a busy day. When she walked in, the warm glow of the bar greeted her, and she quickly spotted her friends gathered around a large table. They greeted her with cheers and hugs, their laughter blending easily with the soft buzz of the place.

The table was filled with canapés, finger foods, and cocktails, everyone sharing bites and chatting comfortably. It was mostly her close lady friends, with Gaz as the only guy in the group. Some of the others couldn’t make it due to duty or deployment, but it didn’t dampen the mood. Y/N smiled as she settled in, feeling a wave of contentment as she finally had a moment to relax and enjoy the evening

As the evening wore on, more drinks and food made their rounds, fueling laughter and stories that bounced from one person to the next. The atmosphere was light, filled with the easy camaraderie of good friends catching up. Y/N, feeling the effects of the drinks and the good time, excused herself to the restroom, tossing a playful request to one of her friends. "Watch my bag for me, yeah?"

She returned moments later, her steps quick as she anticipated diving back into the fun. But as she approached the table, her brow furrowed in confusion. The table where her friends had been sitting was now empty. All the glasses and platters of finger foods that had once littered the surface were completely cleared away. Her eyes scanned the bar, only to find that everyone had vanished—everyone, including Gaz.

"What the hell?" she muttered to herself, half-expecting to find some sort of mix-up. Had they really just gotten up and left without a word? Why would they do that? It felt... off. Her eyes darted around the room, but there was no sign of her friends. No lingering goodbyes, no explanations.

And then, she spotted him.

Sitting where she had been just moments ago, as if he'd always been part of the scene, was none other than John Price. He was dressed in smart casual—fitting the ambiance of the evening, but with that added flair of his usual commanding presence. Arms crossed over his chest, he looked at her with that infuriatingly smug, victorious grin that always managed to make her feel like she’d lost some sort of battle.

This must be why everyone disappeared. A setup. A setup by John and Gaz.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of her Chanel bag resting comfortably on his lap. The bag, the one she'd inherited, and more importantly, the one that contained her essentials—her phone, her wallet, her cards, tissues, and yes, even her meds—lay there in his hands, as if it was a trophy.

She blinked, then stepped closer, feeling her lips twitch into a mix of disbelief and irritation. “Are you kidding me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

Price didn’t even flinch. He just leaned back slightly, clearly amused at the scene unfolding before him, and tossed a cheeky glance toward her. "You took too long," he said smoothly, his voice low and teasing. "Figured I’d make myself comfortable while I waited."

His blue eyes scanned her, taking in every detail from head to toe before returning to her face. A playful grin tugged at his lips. "You look stunning," he said, his voice smooth. "Didn't know there was this side of you—besides the muddy aprons, overalls, and tactical uniforms. Not that you weren't beautiful then, but... there's something about you when you're all put together."

She stood before him, dressed in an off-shoulder navy blue midi dress that elegantly flowed to mid-calf. The neckline revealed her collarbone and her petite, delicate shoulders—features that had him fighting the urge to lean in closer. The sleeves of the dress were slightly puffed at the shoulders, tapering down to fitted cuffs at her wrists, adding just the right touch of drama to her polished look.

On her feet, a pair of navy blue velvet pumps completed the ensemble, elongating her legs and accentuating her graceful posture.

Her makeup was understated yet stunning, enhancing her natural beauty. Her well-groomed eyebrows framed her eyes perfectly, while a subtle smoky eyeshadow with neutral tones made her gaze captivating. A thin line of eyeliner defined her upper lash line, complemented by mascara-coated lashes that gave her eyes a soft, smoldering depth. A rosy blush brought warmth to her cheeks, while a bold satin mauve lipstick drew attention to her lips.

Her jewelry was minimal yet refined—a pair of gold hoop earrings added a hint of sophistication, while a delicate gold necklace with an intricate blue-eye gem pendant rested lightly against her collarbone, catching the light with every slight movement.

Her hair was styled in long, loose waves that cascaded down her shoulders and back. The soft, voluminous texture of her hair, parted in the middle, framed her face beautifully, striking the perfect balance between elegance and effortlessness.

John’s gaze lingered a moment longer, his appreciative smile deepening.

She exhaled an exasperated sigh, stepping forward with determination as she reached for her bag. Yet, his long arms moved swiftly, keeping it just out of her grasp. Her frustration mounted, but before she could protest further, his other hand slid around her waist in one fluid motion, pulling her close. Her breath hitched as his head came to rest lightly against her stomach, his blue eyes gleaming with playful defiance as he looked up at her.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, her pulse quickening at the sudden closeness. His hold was steady—not forceful, but firm enough to leave no doubt she wasn’t going anywhere. The smirk tugging at his lips was maddening, and the noise of the room seemed to fade, leaving only the charged space between them.

To anyone glancing their way, anyone who might have seen them at that moment would have easily assumed they were a couple.

"Give back my bag, Captain..." she murmured, her tone a mix of frustration and amusement.

His reply came without hesitation, the timbre of his voice dropping low enough to make her shiver. "No," he said, his grin widening. "How about we strike a deal instead? You owe me for ghosting me, and now..." He paused, letting his words linger between them. "You're going to make it up to me."

She let out an exasperated sigh, though the telltale flush creeping up her cheeks didn’t escape John’s sharp eyes.

“Could you let me go?” she asked, her voice betraying a mix of frustration and embarrassment.

He didn’t budge. Instead, he shifted, turning his body fully toward her. Seated as he was, he wrapped his arm more firmly around her waist, trapping her against him. Her hips now pressed lightly against his chest, and he looked up at her with a gaze so intent it made her pulse falter.

“Don’t make this harder on yourself,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with challenge.

She crossed her arms defiantly and turned her head away, refusing to meet his smoldering blue eyes. “What are you playing at?” she muttered.

His smirk deepened. “I’ll tell you what. Keep this up, and I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here.”

Her head snapped back toward him, eyes narrowing. “You’re a neanderthal!! Oh, You wouldn’t dare!!”

“Try me,” he said, his tone casual but laced with intent.

She stared at him, weighing her options. The sheer audacity of him left her fuming, but the steady determination in his expression left no room for doubt. He would absolutely do it.

For the sake of her dignity—and her reputation—she sighed in defeat. “Fine,” she muttered, her tone laced with reluctant surrender.

John’s victorious grin was infuriating, but she couldn’t deny the spark of heat that danced in her chest. Once again, Captain John Price had won.

John rose from his seat, and her eyes widened as she was suddenly reminded of just how tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing he was. Even in her heels, she barely came up to his chest. The sheer presence of him made her feel small in a way that was both frustrating and... a little disarming.

A slow smile spread across his face as he reached for her hand, his fingers naturally intertwining with hers. She noticed, with some irritation, that he was still holding her bag by the straps in his other hand—clearly not planning to return it anytime soon.

“Uhmm... wait,” she blurted, gesturing vaguely toward the bar. “I need to pay for everything.”

John’s smile widened, his voice calm and reassuring. “Don’t worry about it. Your friends took care of it. They send their compliments... and their best wishes for you to enjoy your time with me.”

Her lips parted in disbelief, and she let out an exasperated groan, her head tilting back slightly. “Ugh, of course they did,” she muttered, the realization sinking in that her friends had been part of this elaborate setup all along.

A/N: And now... the Captain has finally CAUGHT YOU! No more running, no more escaping—you're in his hands now. 😏 So, what happens next when you're completely at his mercy? Get ready for some intense and seductive moments to come... because John Price is about to seduce the hell out of you. Trust me, it’s only just beginning. 😉 Enjoy the ride, and don’t say I didn’t warn you!

[piggycyberwarrior]

Summary: After Task Force 141 got a hint that you gave important information to their enemy- the boys do not hesitate to chain you up and give you a taste of hell. You on the other hand are innocent but they do not believe you

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Platonic Task Force 141! x Fem!Reader (Simon Ghost Riley x Reader) a/n: pretty proud of that ngl.. enjoy guys love you!

Warnings: uhm this whole fic is basically a warning. Torture; Blood; Mental Health; Angst angst angst not proof read

genre: ANGST

+ 1,6k words

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

You thought you were going insane.

Maybe you already were, but it was no suprise- seeing the circumstances you were in. Arms stretched uncomfortably backwards and up- chains rubbing your wrists painfully raw. The stress position Soap put you in wasn't easy peasy lemonsqueezy.

Tears brimming in your eyes at the thought. You felt fucking betrayed. You were fucking betrayed, for gods sake! by your own team- the people you cried with- the people that you loved more than yourself- the people you called your family. That one man you took a bullet for.

Fuck all that bullshit.

Those were the same people that didn't believe you when things got rocky. When some pricks pointed their fingers at you- they immediately treated you as an enemy. The same people that chained you up. The same man that made you fucking blind on one eye

Everything was a lie, apparently.

The cell you were in was shady- you didn't expect something different- i mean you just served the military for many years and did everything for your country- of course you didn't deserve something more decent.

In the end you didn't care. Just waited.

When Gaz interrogated you- you kept your mouth shut. What should you do? Lie? Fuck no, you had so much self respect left, even in this dehumanizing situation.

of course your facade broke often times- you were only human after all. And it hurt- you were in this situation before- tortured by your enemies knowing that you would probably outlive them anyway as your team would rip them apart in a few days.

But now- being here- seeing how your 'friends'- your family- spat at you with nothing more than hate made you feel even more miserable- knowing, that no one will safe you this time.

You cried- having panick attacks deep into countless nights-being triggered by any small sound that wasn't coming from you or that rat in the corner of the room. Yelling at them- telling them that you didn't do shit. They didn't believe you.

Spiraling deep in your thoughts- shoulders sore and numb hands from the stress position- still tasting a faint trace of your own blood-

the sensory of the dried up blood on your cheek was uncomfortable at the beginning- cracking everytime you opened your mouth- but it quickly got kicked to the bottom of your worries as Price's wodden bat flew into your face yesterday- tooth flying onto the ground as you spat the crimson liquid at his feet- earning another strike from your Captain.

Your Saliva turning pink with the blood, sticking to your chin- slowly dripping down- having no free hand to wipe it off.

.

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.

You were here for about 1 and a half weeks now- how'd you know that? because you could hear the guards mutter something behind that steal door.

You shivered, suffering from hypothermia, a consequence of being almost naked in this shithole. Simon himself stripped you down- ignoring your pleas and protests.

Simon.

The man you did everything for, took a bullet for, cared for and slept with. He was the love of your life- or so you thought.

You were never scared of Simon. Since the first day you met him- you were kinda drawn to that giant of a man. Always spawning in his near with hearts in your eyes- Soap always made fun of you- but he found it cute neverthless, he could see that Simon didn't hate you.

You stitched him up- knew his fears (being a therapists daughter was quite a help for having deep convos), you knew of his past- even if it took you years to finally break his many iron walls down

You saw his face- kissed his scars and showered him with your time and love- giving him your all- even your body.

You weren't in a relationship- but everybody knew that Simon 'Ghost' Riley liked you. Even if you didn't tell anybody from the Force.

In the end it seemed not be enough, as the same man nearly strangled you to death down here. At first you were desperate, scared- but you stopped pleading a long time ago.

.

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.

heavy footsteps shook you out of your trance- spiraling thoughts stopping for a mere second as you looked into his stone cold eyes.

Balaklava on his scarred face- making you inhale sharply- heart throbbing at his sight. The black paint around his eyes made them pierce through the dark even more.

The same paint you applied more than once onto his unique face. he looked beautiful in your eyes. Even after everything that happened.

You're in here since a few nights.- Clothes starting to hang loosely around your body- having not eaten in days.

"Simon-" you croaked out- voice not cooperating as it should- making you tear up. When did everything turned out to be like that? This nightmare? You flinched a bit- chains clinking softly at your slight movement when he came towards you- still not speaking.

He stared. Stared at your weak frame. The dark hole you were chained into- being in a constant state of fear- Anxiety pulling and clawing at your nerves.

You gritted your teeth- looking to the side with a defeated huff. Tears prickling in your eyes once more- threatening to fall as he watched you like you were a kicked stray dog. Maybe you were in their eyes.

"I-" you croaked out once more "I didn't do it, Simon, i swear" you whispered into the dimmly lit room- Still not looking at him. "I swear to god Simon, I didn't.." you weeped in silence as he just looked "Fuck why should I betray you!!" you screamed in frustration at his figure- tears falling as he only left- leaving you in complete darkness- letting you cry to yourself till you eventually passed out.

.

Not even two day passed before he bursted through the iron door again- the loud sound ripping you out of your unconsciousness before he angrily grabbed you by your collar- hate flickering in those eyes that once held nothing but adoration for you.

"You fuckin' liar" he seethed through gritted teeth- behind that mask. Pushing you into the wall behind you- your head knocking against the brick wall with such a force that made you wince.

You could feel his anger. And you felt the danger that radiated from the man you gave your heart to.

His hands coming up to press against your jugular with a firm grip- picking you up a few inches into the air- chains clinking again. "Y'think you hav' it in you to lie into my fuckin' face" he growled while pressing down harder- you could feel yourself getting more lightheaded- gasping for air- choking for oxygen.

"Plea' Simon" you begged inbetween small gasps- scared what he will do to you. Hands tied together, wiggling in his painful hold like a suffocating fish- legs kicking to get him away from you- it worked- you gasped, trying to get in as much air as you could while your built up saliva ran down your chin-

he let you go for a second before his fist collided with your face. Hard- knocking the air out of your lungs once more "Jus' tell us the truth" he huffed, before hitting again- at first it hurt and then it burned. Your nose cracked under his fists-

Making you see stars and breath heavily before he took the knife out you gifted him for his birthday. Both your names engraved in it-

"'t will be easier for you" he said before popping the knife out of its sheath. "No, Simon" you cried out- whilst seeing the blade. "You don't have to do this" you gasped as he came dangerously close.

"No,no,no!!" you protested as he teared down your clothing, leaving you in a bra and your underwear. Feeling helpless as he teared down your clothes- ignoring your protest. The coldness of the room let goosebumps arise on your skin almost immediately.

He was quiet. That wasn't a good sign. You waited- staring at him, pulling at your chains as he looked at the blade. Fist tightening as he saw the little heart that was engraved into the hilt. Betrayal flushed his senses as he pushed the knife into your upper leg- making you scream in return.

Twisting the knife- hearing your agony but not stopping- he quickly hit you into your left eye socket with the hilt of the knife to shut you up. he didn't want to hear your screams.

Even if he didn't wanted to admit it- he was also teared apart- but his need to let his anger out was stronger - all the time he spent with a fucking liar- gave you his fucked up heart. All for you to be a fucking snake- a traitor.

He had to do his job- protect his family.

Another jab to the eye- hearing your muffled cries echo across the room- making you see red- the burning sensation was an ugly one. You couldn't see on that eye anymore.

"I fuckin' wish I could just kill you" he seethed before leaving you there in the dark- all beat up and bloody- head throbbing and surely a broken nose- making it hard to breath.

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You waited since then. Waiting for death to come. Waiting for Ghost to end it- but of course he never came back since then. Your wounds were starting to inflame- everything hurt and burned. Your eye swelling almost shut.

They all tortured you. Johnny, Kyle, John and Simon.

But they forgot something important. You were known for being patient. A fucking patient and stubborn woman. You waited. Yes you sometimes protested, and kicked and screamed and insulted them- but you neverthless waited for the day.

The day they finally see that they wronged an innocent. The day you would hurt them. Seek revenge.

Fucking. Revenge.

-

!please do reblog! :)

join the Taglist here (Taglist post)

[dumbbitchgalore]

This is what toxic!Price would do if he come home to see you lounging around that not taking care of the house (🌽 link)

John is absolutely furious with you.

His pretty little spouse should be cleaning and keeping the house clean while he’s away in deployment. Not make a mess of yourself and your home.

But nothing like a bit of training can’t fix.

He’ll hold your hair out of your face, bunching it into his fist as he fucks your mouth. Keeping a steady grip on the back of your head as to make sure you can’t pull away unless he wants you to.

Despite the gags and whine that leave your sore, aching throat, he most definitely doesn’t not give a fuck about your feelings and protests.

He’ll use every hole until he can finally get through your thick skull who you belong to and what you’re good for, possibly having to call in reinforcement if you still continue to act up.

[pazza-di-te]

ToxicHusband!Price thats bit of scumbag

He invited his boys to watch the football match this season and your task?

Serve him and his boys beer while you look pretty in the team shirt he made you wear.

Only rule the boys follow?

Look all you can but don't touch.

"Bring me another can, ye luv?" He pats the side of your thigh as his ring glints with the shine from the tv

"'Course John,' you smile as you stand up from his lap, heading to the fridge, but as your feet touch the floor, you squel when a sudden pressure on your arse surprised you.

You turn back and glare over your shoulder at the culprit, also known as your husband. He better be thankful you love him. You huff when the only thing you see is him giving you a sly smirk and a playful wink, and with that, you continue on your way to the kitchen.

As John relaxed against the couch again, you didn't notice the stares of his mates. His smile widens as he looks over the boys, and their eyes gaze upon your ass just peeking under the shirt.

"Lucky bastard." Johnny huffs and John silently agrees.

[mactavishenjoyer]

Price:"Nikolai is off limits!"

Ghost:" your affair partner is off limits but not your husband?"

Price:"yes, because he can't keep his dick in his pants."

Mactavish:"says the bitch that opened his legs first."

Price:"and that's why your boyfriends are dead."

Roach:"we're alive?"

Price:"wait."

Ghost:

Roach:

[konigsblog]

Orla :(( toxic!dadbod!Price comeback when?? I'm so down and so depressed and I need that mean old bastard to feel something

toxic-dadbod-price, one of my favourite concepts on this blog :33 (anon, i hope you feel better soon, take it easy !!!) 🫂

now, we all know that toxic-dadbod-price isn't the sweetest person ever. he has a toxic personality, he can be vindictive to those who've wronged him, holds grudges and knows how to use manipulation to get whatever he wants. being retired from the military, he spends the majority of his time jerking off on the couch, drinking beer, smoking inside the house and watching the football at six o’clock in the evening.

he's not oblivious though, he notices how you're down lately, spending a large chunk of your time in the bathroom, sat in the bathtub, foamy and bubbly water as you think. you feel weak, mentally. you can't bring yourself to do the simplest of things, and all you want is the softness of your husband's chest to rest against at nighttime.

of course, price can be bitchy when he's drunk; pushing you away and rolling over, snoring without having a shower, dirtying your freshly clean sheets. you always find yourself inching closer at nighttime, ‘til you're sobbing in your sleep against his brute, fat and musky chest, and your horrible husband is now playing with your hair, half asleep with a cigar between his teeth, puffing away at the lit, burning cigar.

it's not that he cares – don't get it twisted, love – he's not the kind, sweet man he once was, but he'll convince himself to wipe your tears with the harsh, calloused skin on the back of his hand, watching you sleep peacefully, already picking up a bottle of beer from the bedside table and cursing about how you're practically holding him down as you use his chest as a pillow, just what you wanted.

[ghostlycod]

task force 141 headcanons: who’s their celebrity crush?

MDNI, hints of NSFW, mentions of a breeding kink, all that stuff

price: does not pay attention to celebrities. absolutely refuses to. who gives a shit about some random stranger who can half-decently sing or act and is only “attractive” after they’ve been photoshopped to hell??? yeah sure maybe he liked some predetermined-to-be-famous bombshell as a teenager but nope, he’s wayyyy too mature for that now — until he discovers Sabrina Carpenter. pretty, naughty but still cute, and probably a bit too young for him?? oh, it’s a wrap. and with his tinyyyyy not tiny, not tiny at all breeding kink, he’d be jerking it to Juno every day for a month straight after he finds out about her

ghost: Megan thee Stallion. No further questions.

soap: stereotypically, a name like Megan Fox would just roll off of his tongue. It’s what everyone expects him to say, it’s what he liked as a teenager, so he just says it. keep it easy and keep up appearances. But seriously? it’s Sophie Turner post-divorce from Joe Jonas. she looked hot in those “hanging out with TSwift” photos! and she’s a MILF now… 👀

gaz: why would he have a celebrity crush when the only girl he sees is you? 🥺 (currently follows Zendaya on instagram and likes every single one of her photos) he would neverrrrr even look at anyone else, how could you think thaaaaat 🥺🥺 (and Bella Hadid) he doesn’t even care about insta or those kinds of movies or even listen to any of that kind of music 🥺🥺🥺 (and also Chloe Bailey)

[notthefirstfallenangel]

Prince Charming

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!Reader

Warnings: ADULT CONTENT. 18+ NSFW, cheating

Summary: When you met him you thought you were the luckiest girl in the world...oh how wrong you were.

Words: 2.1k

A/N: I swear it started so cute...I don't even know what happened.

You got lucky that night, or so you thought.

The sun had just set, and the air was heavy with the smell of wildflowers. You had gone out for a drink with your best friend to get over your recent breakup and had ended up in a bar. It was loud enough to muffle the sound of your sorrows, the low chatter and clinking beer bottles a comforting distraction. You took a sip from your drink, eyes sweeping chaotically until they met Price’s. He sat on a stool at the bar, the light glinting off his brown hair as he laughed at something one of his friends said. His broad shoulders filled out his shirt perfectly, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest at the sight of him. As he turned his head, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body.

He made his way over to you, seemingly undeterred by your friend’s warning look. He leaned closer as he spoke, his breath hot against your ear. “I didn’t mean to stare, love— But I couldn’t help it,” he said, his voice a rough whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Can I buy you another drink, darlin’?”

The playful rise of his eyebrows suggested that he’d already won this battle.

He was charming, handsome, and had an air of confidence that you found irresistible. Everything he said and did seemed calculated to make you smile. It wasn’t long before you were in your bed, feeling the pleasant weight of his body covering yours.

His body had a strong foundation, a soldier’s physique that was beginning to soften with age. His abdomen carried a layer of flab, but his legs were still toned and muscular from years of military training, his scars a reminder of his bravery and resilience. You traced your fingers over them, feeling the bumpy texture beneath your skin. He hummed contentedly, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he nuzzled into your neck.

“You feel bloody amazing, darlin’,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy on your neck. You shivered in response, your body arching up to meet his. His hands roamed over your body, mapping out every curve and dip as he explored you. Each touch sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you moan softly.

Price grinned at your reaction, his eyes darkening with desire. He leaned in to kiss you, his tongue slipping past your lips to tangle with yours. You tasted the faint tang of whiskey on his breath, which only added to your arousal. He pulled away from the kiss, trailing his lips down your throat and over your breasts. Every nerve ending sang out in welcome as he nibbled and licked his way across your ribs. At last, he paused at your breast, blowing gently on one nipple before giving it a quick flick with his tongue. You moaned when he took it between his teeth, gently grazing your flesh while squeezing your other breast in the opposite hand.

His laugh was deep and throaty. It echoed deeply through your chest; the vibrations warm like heated skin as you begged for more. “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you, darling?” he said, his voice filled with admiration and lust. “Let’s see how long this can last.”

His hands were firm and unrelenting, and his mouth was even more insatiable, sucking and nibbling on every part of your body. He left not a single inch untouched.

He brought you to the brink of orgasm, only to leave you hanging as he shifted his attention somewhere else. He seemed to know exactly what you wanted; it wasn’t long before you were clawing at his shoulders, begging for more. His tongue flicked across your clit, tracing delicious swirls of shivery sensations up to your belly button. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you open as he artfully explored you.

The only sounds in the room were your heavy breathing and the wet sounds of his tongue. Everything else faded away as you were submerged in pleasure.

“That’s it, love, moan for me.” He murmured. His tongue dipped inside you, feeling the tight walls of your pussy as he licked you. His hands pinched your nipples, the sharp pain making you arch your back even higher. He pinched harder, and you heard the muffled smack of his lips as he continued to lick you. His beard scratched against your thighs as he licked and sucked and nibbled on you, every little sensation amplified by your growing orgasm.

“Please...” you begged, your voice soft and low. His touch was relentless, pausing only when he sensed that you were about to come. He pulled away from you, and you nearly cried out in frustration.

His gaze hungrily devoured your shape with each passing second, and a smouldering heat burned in his chest as he observed you. His eyes roamed from head to toe, leaving a blush that crept up your skin like fire.

“so fukin’ beautiful,” His voice was rough, his breathing shallow.

You writhed and twisted, bucking your hips up off the bed. Every lick of his tongue, every sip he took from you sent pleasure rippling through your body, erasing conscious thought and replacing it with primal urges. You were panting and shifting beneath him, desperate for something to bring you over the edge. He was taking his time, his actions precise and practised as he brought you to the highest peak. His hands roamed your naked body; he grabbed your thigh, spreading your legs to slip between them and settle between your thighs. The rough skin on his fingers scratched against your inner thighs and made you shiver in delight.

You found his lips again and entwined your fingers in his hair as you kissed him, tasting the warmth of his tongue. He moaned softly as he reached down to guide himself inside you. You parted your lips in a gasp as he entered you; he was so thick that it almost hurt to take him all at once. You tightened your grip on his hair as you bucked your hips to meet his. You wanted more; you wanted him deeper. He was teasingly slow in the beginning, pushing into you inch-by-inch, savouring each breathy moan that escaped your parted lips. You could feel him twitch inside you with every gasp of pleasure shuddered through your frame. Though as soon as your inner walls started to tighten around him, he would either slow down or come to an abrupt halt, whispering “Not yet” against the skin of your neck, his voice low and gruff. You whined in response, squirming beneath him as he held you still. “I’m not done yet.”

He pinned your wrists over your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he started to push deeper into you. “You feel fuckin’amazing, darling,” he said, his laugh full of lust.

It started as a casual thing, but you kept going back for more. Every time you saw each other was like the first time, his gaze piercing your soul. He brought out your desire to please him and made you feel valuable. You found yourself staying up late at night waiting for his calls just to hear his deep voice telling you how beautiful you were. He was so gentle, always there to make you smile. He made you feel safe. Price was the kind of man you needed to keep you grounded when the world was too much and the only guy you had ever loved.

He loved to take you away for spontaneous escapades, exploring remote natural beauty. But on days when that was impossible, the two of you have settled into a routine of languid lovemaking on the lumpy old couch in your cramped apartment. As you watched TV, He would slip his fingers down your body, between your thighs. You would let out a soft sigh as he teased you, brushing his fingers against your sensitive clit. You would twitch and shift as warmth spread through your abdomen. He would slowly start to play with you, finger you as you curled up into his chest.

“You feelin’ alright, darlin'?” He asked quietly, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

“Mhm.” you hummed, pressing closer to him.

“Do you wanna cum?”

“Mhmm.”

“Good girl.” For some reason, hearing him say that sent a rush of pleasure through your body, making you clench around him.

“Shh… Just enjoy it,” he cooed, toying with you.

You loved watching him as he pleasured you, his eyes heavy as he focused on thrusting his fingers in and out of you.

You always made sure to be good for him, to be as loud and vocal as you could. The more you wanted him, the louder he would growl in response. He loved it when you begged for him. He loved it even more when you sang his name. Then he would lean down to kiss you. You would feel his beard tickle your neck as you moaned into his mouth, clinging to him. He would smile when you came, his lips stretched across his teeth, his eyes closed, and his eyebrows raised. He would whisper “good girl” again as he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean.

After a while, your eyes would drift closed, your smooth legs rubbing up against his hairier ones and his heartbeat against your cheek. His low voice was like a soothing lullaby, whispering reassurances of how much you meant to him, helping you relax and drift off.

Even if not exceptional, those moments were so intimate to you that he made you feel like the only woman in the world. It would get cold in your tiny house, and he would slide closer to you, wrapping his big, warm body around you and protecting you from the cold. He could make you feel so safe, so happy.

You belonged to him.

Your life felt complete when you were by his side.

As the months moved on, the leaves had just begun to change colour, ushering in the chill of autumn. The weather turned colder, and you resumed your job teaching at the kindergarten. It was a Monday afternoon, and you were sitting at your classroom desk, dressed in a red cardigan and skirt despite the chill in the air. It was raining outside, and the window gave you a glimpse of the cold grey clouds and the torrential rain. You looked around the bright room, walls painted in bright colours with an exuberant richness characteristic of the kindergarten. Your hands were in constant motion - twirling a black pen with a silver tip between your fingers and tapping it against the yellowed pages of your notebook. The cool plastic felt reassuring as you anxiously waited for Liam’s parents to show up. He was one of your new students; he had bright green eyes and a contagious laugh that always made you smile. You were glad to have him in the classroom, where his happy presence seemed to fill the whole room. The red numbers on the clock seemed to move with a heavy reluctance, ticking along in agonisingly slow minutes.

Every passing moment was punctuated by the sound of your shifting body against the cool metal chair until, finally, two hours later, you heard heavy boots echoing down the hallway, followed by a woman’s heels against the linoleum. There was a hushed argument in the hallway; you could hear them arguing but couldn’t make out their words.

The door opened slowly, and a slim, graceful woman stepped through. She wore an artfully tailored black silk blouse that clung to her curves and a pencil skirt with bold lines that showed off her slender figure. Her every movement was delicate yet stylish, like she’d just stepped out of the pages of a magazine.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” the woman said. “I apologise for the delay, but a few urgent matters came up at the last minute. I’m Tina.” Her voice was smooth and polished.

You smiled and shook her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Her husband’s tall and sturdy figure entered the room, his broad chest straining against the green shirt he wore. He had on a set of camouflage fatigues and dog tags dangling from his neck.

Your breath caught in your throat as you met his eyes. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly composed himself.

“This is my husband, Liam’s father.” She paused for a moment and smiled slightly. “John, John Price.”

[underyourbedtoday]

Captain John Price as your emotionally-unavailable-but-weirdly-devoted-to-you-but-not-enough boyfriend that feels more like a situationship than a relationship because he never placed you high enough

Anyway I think I might write this

[andromeda-pleiades]

A Married Man

Cw // infidelity, cursing, brief alluisons to torture, pregnancy

A/N : Probably Ooc Price, idk. I feel it's a tad bit realistic, but he is also very mean. also he has a wife. Also the reader is kinda mean, too

I've been scared before.

Scared when hostages don’t comply or respond to torture tactics the way they should. Nervous when I get hit enough times that my body screams. I get frantic when witnesses repeat the same grueling, unnecessary details completely unrelated to my questions. Wasted time was the difference between life and death.

I get scared, sure. But right now . . . I'm terrified.

I've taken five tests, all with the same result. I spent most of my midnight begging and praying that this was all a dream that I couldn't have messed up this bad.

But I woke up this morning in the same nightmare.

I've moved through my day roboticly, but now comes the moment my day has been leading up to. I knocked on my Captains door, the name plate taunting me, serving to remind me that I knew what I was getting into.

"Captain, I need to talk to you." I try to keep all emotion out of my voice.

He pauses his work and looks up at me, making me avert my eyes. "Talk about what exactly?"

"I'm so sorry, John, " As soon as the words leave my mouth, tears start swelling in my eyes. "I really thought we were being careful."

His brow furrows with confusion. "What happened?"

I had all day to prepare what to say but right now everything feels as if it's spilling out of a boiling pot. "I know you didn't tell your wife, and we were keeping it a secret, and I thought I was on birth control, but..." my throat burns and before I could say anything else I feel tears run down my face.

He stares at me his eyes burning into my very soul searching for the unspoken. "You got pregnant!?"

"I'm so sorry John. What are we- What do we tell your wife?

Silence

Silence so thick you can cut through it.

Then he stands taking of his hat and holding it in his hands. He lools at me as if he is in physical pain from this conversation.

"Are you sure that's my child?"

Wait.

What

Am I sure that's his- "Are you seriously calling me a whore John? Fuck, I knew we shouldn't have done this. I shouldn't have slept with you."

"You’re missing my point, love." He stares down at me. "There might be another reason for you being pregnant other than me. I’m not saying you’re a ‘hoe’, I’m saying I know you’re seeing other people. And you’re telling me that the child is mine?"

His face relaxes. This isn't how i imagine this to go maybe its my hormones, or maybe it's his stupid face, but everything about his demeanor is infuriating me. I stand up. "John, I've been sleeping with you and only you for five months now. I cut everyone else off because I wanted to I be with you. "

I feel restless as if the anxiety and anger running through my body can't let me sit still, so I start pacing his office. "I should have fucked gaz instead."

He remains unmoved by my rant. He stays cold, and actually stares me down, his expression slowly growing to anger.

"Do not mention Gaz in that manner."

"Why not? With the way he looks at me, I'm sure he would've jumped at the chance. But no, I had to sleep with the married guy." I throw my hands up in exasperated anger.

He steps towards me

"Do not think for even a second that he looks at you that way." He lowers his voice. "Nor is he the kind to sleep with an irresponsible woman."

Irresponsible woman??

Irre- "Irresponsible woman?!? Did you forget you came to me first? You slept with the irresponsible woman?"

He raises his eyebrows, letting a small smile yug at his lips

"I have not forgotten. But I know for a fact, I wasn’t the one trying to seduce a married, older man into an irresponsible relationship. That was you. A young woman who had no idea what she was doing. So, yes, you are the irresponsible one."

I look him in eyes and scoff at his audacity.

"But that's the thing, John, you are older than me and married, not to mention you're my CO. Im sure the higher-ups and your wife would love to hear how Captain Price was in an affair with his subordinate and knocked her up."

He laughs, this time a full-on, hard-as-nails laugh

"You’re threatening to blackmail me? That’s hilarious."

He takes a hearty step towards me.

"Your little plan of threatening me with my career and reputation won’t work, love. Because you know what they’ll do if you tell everybody about our affair? They’ll kick your ass to the curb, and you’ll be thrown out of the regiment."

I don't know how to explain the emotion I feel. Anger. Disbelief. Sadness.

I'm done.

" I can't believe I loved you, John. I don't know why I thought you were any different." I turn toward the door to leave this conversation in this room to never leave again.

"Don't worry about the baby or me because you'll never have to see us again."

Before I can leave the room, he puts his hat on and stands in front of the door.

"Love, where do you think you’re going?" His voice is still cold.

I try to cool my face into one of indifference.

"Captain, you don't even think the child is yours. This entire conversation shows that we aren't mature enough to raise a baby together."

I try to take a steay breath, but it comes out shaky. "I'm going to get a discharge and leave. Maybe I'll find a nice house where I can raise the baby and start a new job. "

I look him in the eyes, trying to show the meaning behind my words

"I'm not going to force you to be there for them... Captain."

Still, that isn't enough to make him move

"You’re not leaving, love. You’re right. I don’t know if the child is mine. But," His face softens, and his voice turns gentle. "I can’t imagine not being a part of this child’s life. And as your CO, love, I won’t allow you to leave without my say so."

"So what, Captain, what do you want me to do? Because we don't live in this perfect world where people don't ask questions."

" Listen, you can't be a part of my child's life and still live yours."

I take a step towards the door and, in turn him "Let me leave John"

He steps closer to me, his face just inches away from mine

"And why can’t I raise my child while still living my life, hm? What do you think I do at home? Stare at a wall?" He leans in even closer, brushing my nose with his, and whispers: "No, love. I can’t let you leave just yet."

"I think you go home to your wife, and I'm not sure she'll be too happy with you coming home with a kid." I whisper.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"And if, hypothetically, I was to divorce her, would that be a more better answer to your worries?"

[stxrlitmxxnlight]

Broken, Yet Yearning

Chapter 1: A Tough Decision, But One With No Regrets

A soft, relieved sigh is let out; At the same time, Rosmarie looks out the plane window, thinking about the good memories and people she's leaving back home in Australia; a decision that was made long ago when she started to plan out attending college and just general plans for the future. 

But as for currently, Rosmarie was on the plane headed to London, to finally be able to attend the college of her dreams and to also start a life of her own, a nice but well-deserved fresh start for herself. 

Leaving her Grandparents and friends hurt, yes, but she had desperately wanted to leave Australia and try to find something better elsewhere in the world.  

 Rose had always been an art, literature, and history buff ever since she was a child, she always found peace and happiness in being able to read and draw and be in her little world; on the other hand, all her hard work had paid off finally, being able to bring her passions to a whole new level, wanting to travel the world and visit all the museums and art galleries to her heart’s content, as well as going to places to see the history that had been left behind.

As a few hours passed, her plane finally landed at its destination. Having sat in the front of the plane, luckily, she was able to make a quick exit from the plane and to baggage claim, waiting for her things before eventually getting them.

After getting outside and waiting for a cab to come in view to be flagged down and take her to her residence, Rosmarie waited a bit before calling a cab and giving her driver her new address. 

“I’m excited but I’m also so tired at the same time.” She murmurs to herself, she got her luggage situated in the cab trunk, then seated herself in the backseat and thanked the cab driver sweetly before they made their way to her apartment. While the cab drove through the many streets to London, Rosmarie smiled and admired the new views and change in scenery.

After around a decent 45 minutes of driving, the cab driver finally arrived at the apartment complex, eagerly exiting the cab, she would then carefully remove her luggage, then thanked the driver before paying them and watching them drive off for a second before making her way to her apartment.

When she had made her way to the elevator, after checking in at the front desk of the apartment complex, she got her apartment key before thanking the staff with a soft grin and then making her way to the elevator.

Now that she was standing in front of the door to her new home, Rose had gently placed her hand on the knob; after unlocking the door, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as if she were expecting something to happen when she opened the door. Slowly entering her new home, she takes in the view of it while the thoughts of “This is it, I’ve finally made my dream a reality.” all go through her head as if she were dreaming this had all happened.

As much as she would have liked to keep dreaming, she needed to start unpacking what she had brought with her on the flight and do her best to get comfortable before being able to relax a bit. With a reluctant sigh, Rosmarie makes a move to find the bedroom, then makes haste to unpack. 

“I should call and let Oma and Opa know I landed and made it home.” Rosmarie reminded herself in a soft huff of exhaustion, after having stressed over the flight and the way to her apartment would go, along with aching at the thought of how lonely her grandparents were now, especially with how Rosmarie had been the only one to see and stay with them, especially with how most the family is back in Germany; meanwhile, her father never bothered to see how his parents were at all.

3 hours had passed, and now finally relaxed and comfortable and cozy on her bed, the warmth of the few blankets that were brought with were much welcomed. Rosmarie pulled out her phone, and started a video call with her grandparents, hoping they’d pick up if not busy.

beep beep beep

Is all she heard before smiling at the sound of her Grandma’s voice greeting her and not short after, her grandfather greeting her as well, both of them having a bright smile on their faces.

“Hallo liebes! Wie war Ihr Flug? Gefällt Ihnen Ihr neues Zuhause bisher?” Was what she heard almost instantly when the call connected finally, making her heart throb at the fact she couldn’t bring them with her.

( “Hello Love! How was your flight? Like your new home so far?”)

“Hallo Oma, mein Flug verlief gut, ich konnte nicht anders, als traurig zu sein, dass du nicht mitkommen konntest.” Rosmarie was quick to admit to them both, it almost made her ill when she had to depart with them at the airport if she were to be honest. 

“Aber ich liebe meine neue Wohnung, sie ist schön und gemütlich, wie auf der Website angekündigt!” She quickly adds before they could dwell on what she said about not being able to come with.

(“Hello grandma, my flight went well, I couldn't help but feel sad that you couldn't come with me.”)

(“But I do love my new apartment, it's nice and cozy like it was advertised on the website!”) “Wir wissen, dass es schwer ist, nicht bei Ihnen zu sein, aber wir sind stolz auf Sie, dass Sie diesen großen Schritt in Ihrem Leben gemacht haben. Vor allem, weil Sie so hart gearbeitet haben, um dorthin zu gelangen, wo Sie jetzt sind.” Her grandfather had told her, smiling and conveying how proud he and his wife were of her, their oldest grandchild striving and doing anything she could to make her dream come true.

(“We know it's hard not being there with you, but we're proud of you for taking this big step in your life. Especially since you've worked so hard to get where you are now.”)

When she heard her grandfather praise her, she couldn’t help but start tearing up and sniffling at his words.

 Rose had honestly thought this big move would be a little easier, but so far it's proven to be hard but worth it. 

Rosmarie was having a hard time being away from the only people who were the biggest supporters in her life after pretty much being abandoned as a child by her parents after her sister was born, but that was a whole other story in itself.

Rose was having a hard time responding when she heard her Grandmother’s voice this time, now listening carefully.

“Weine nicht, mein liebes Mädchen, kein Grund zu weinen, es wird immer Zeiten geben, in denen wir anrufen oder per Videoanruf telefonieren und vielleicht einen längeren Besuch planen können, wenn du in der Pause bist.” The second her grandma finished speaking, Rose had just finally let the dam of tears she’d been holding back so desperately flow freely, soft sniffles and hiccups being heard from the poor girl.

(“Don't cry my dear girl, no need to cry, there will always be times when we can call, video call, and maybe plan a long visit when you're on break.”)

“Ich weiß, aber es ist nicht dasselbe wie mit dir zusammen zu sein.” Would Rosmarie respond, having been able to finally say something after calming herself down? 

The only thoughts that were running through her head currently, were the ones of worry for her grandparents, worried about who would be there to help them when she couldn’t be.

“Aber das ist nicht der einzige Grund. Ich mache mir mehr Sorgen, dass du Hilfe brauchst und sie nicht bekommen kannst und dass etwas Schlimmes passiert, wenn ich nicht da bin, um dich zu beschützen.” Rose added with a sigh, now seeing her grandparents give her a look of empathy but also one of understanding of her worries.

(“I know, but it's not the same as being with you.”) (“But that's not the only reason, I'm more worried about you needing help and not being able to get it, and something bad happening when I'm not there to protect you.”)

After a bit more conversing had been made, Rosmarie started to feel a bit worn out, seemingly now that she had cried out her stress and worries to her grandparents, along with that long flight from Australia to England plus the car ride, she was definitely in need of a nap, a well deserved one at that.

” Du solltest dich etwas ausruhen, Schatz, du hattest einen langen Flug und einen langen Tag vor dir. Warum nicht ein Nickerchen machen und uns später vor dem Schlafengehen noch einmal anrufen?” Her Grandfather suggests to her once he notices how drained she looks, and Rose gives a simple but tired nod and a few slow blinks when doing so as if trying to stay awake.

(“You should get some rest dear, you've had a long flight and a long day ahead of you. why not take a nap and call us again later before bed?”)

When soft ‘I love yous’ and ‘miss you already/miss you more’ were said a few times, the call eventually ended and Rosmarie plugged her phone in before laying down again, now just looking up at the ceiling, thinking away all while her eyes slowly closed. 

The need for sleep having taken over her body and mind finally, gave her a moment of peace and no worries to be thought about.

4 hours later

With a soft but long yawn, and some well-needed stretching of the muscles, Rosmarie awakes from her nap feeling a bit more refreshed and energized than she was earlier when she first arrived.

“I need to go grocery shopping…and just get basic needs too, and maybe I should drop by the campus if I have time..” Rosmarie had pondered to herself as she got up, stretching a little more before moving on and getting into something more cozy and comfortable. 

Having decided on a baggy sweater and some sweatpants just to stay casual and comfortable at the same time.

By the time she finally left the apartment, a list of what she needed in hand while following the GPS app on her phone to find the nearest market she could walk to and from home with no issues. 

While she was strolling along the streets of London, she was just lost in her thoughts and worries about her new big step forth in life. 

 Her thoughts were not concerned about how college would go, but rather if she’d be able to make friends and get along with people since she had always been on the more timid side when it came to befriending new people.

With the way she had grown up back in Australia, yes she spent most of her time with her grandparents as much as she could, but she was still sadly made to live with her parents, mostly having to face the reality of them acting like she never existed. 

It hurt a lot, yes, but it hurt more to see and deal with her little sister always going out of her way to make Rosmarie’s day or overall mood horrible. Didn’t help that Rose was also just naturally a soft and sensitive person due to her home life.

Now that she had made a big step, Rose was a bit more confident in socializing now her sister was no longer a risk of bullying her in front of others, along with her parents too as they did pitch in when they felt like it. 

When reality decided to suddenly hit her, she came back to the world from her thoughts, she noticed she had made her way to the market, honestly surprised by the time it had taken her to get there. 

It had only been about a ten-minute walk. Shrugging off her reality check, she makes her way into the Tescos, quickly grabbing a cart and making her way through the aisles, checking off her list of needs/wants slowly, keeping to herself as much as she possibly can so she can just what she needed to be done dealt with before any sort of socializing.

1 hour of shopping later

Standing in the detergent aisle, trying to locate the brand she usually uses due to having a slight allergy to an ingredient in most detergents. 

Fortunately for her, the store sold it, but unlucky for her it was way above her reach. But she does attempt to tiptoe the best she can with being only 5'9(175.2cm) and with the shelves being what feels like 10ft tall(304.8cm), but when it was only maybe 7ft(213.3cm)tall.

When making her final attempt at tiptoeing for the needed shelf that was far out of her reach, she lost balance, fully expecting to come crashing down onto the cold hard floor of the store; but much to her surprise, she was met with what felt like a broad chest as well with a strong arm holding her close.

Looking up at the person who had saved her from the fall, she couldn’t help with how quickly her heart started to flutter, amazed and awed at what masterpiece of a being was in front of her. Was like he was created by the gods in Olympus for how beautiful and handsome he was. 

But before she continued to ogle at the tall blonde man whom still had her in his arm, she would quickly fix herself, then again look up at the older man.

“I’m so sorry!” Rose apologized quickly while her face flushed a shade of red amongst the soft skin of her cheeks, her eyes had darted from one direction to another before shyly meeting the tall man’s gaze once more. “ Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you at all?’” she inquired, worried she may have accidentally stepped on him or something.

“No need to apologize.” The stranger tells her in one of the deepest, but also somehow heavenly and pleasant to the ears. “I’m fine.” He states as he looks up to see what she had tried to grab.

 Before she even knew it, the gentleman carefully grabbed the detergent she was trying to reach before and carefully placed it in her cart. 

“Seems like you like that brand.” He notes in a slightly softer tone but also tries to be semi-playful, since noticing her all flustered.

“Oh-uh it is one of few brands I can use due to having a slight allergy to a couple of ingredients in most detergents.” She explained to the man, and he hummed softly in response, showing he understood. 

“Noticed your accent, take it not from here?” The gentleman inquired, having his interest been piqued.

“Ah yes, I just moved to London as of today, I came from Australia. ” Rosmarie informs him, now almost beaming a bit as they conversate, having shaken off her embarrassment a bit.

“An Aussie I see.” The blonde giant, but gorgeous man says with a slight chuckle, having found her attitude change cute when more comfortable. 

Humming softly to confirm his answer she smiled softly before looking at the time on her phone with a pout. “Wish today wasn’t moving by so quickly already, I have so much to do,” Rosmarie stated with a slight pout before looking at the man once more.

“Unfortunately I have to get going, I’ve to finish what errands I can today.” with a sigh she smiled at him. “ It was a pleasure meeting you, as well as talking with you!” The young girl exclaimed softly. 

“ Hope to see you around sometime, I’m Rosmarie by the way,” she informed him before smiling and giving him her thanks for the help, making her way to the checkout with her things.

Rosmarie couldn’t help but giggle to herself after having a nice conversation, but also glad her first interaction with someone local had gone so well. 

“Maybe doing this was worth it in the end.” She told herself, having more confidence in the new move, seeing that it was going well so far on the first day. 

Too bad she had to continue with her plans for the day, otherwise she’d probably stand there and keep talking with Simon.

???’s Pov

Once the young girl, Rosmarie, had gone along with her day, it wasn’t long after her departure, he heard two fairly familiar voices laughing and fussing and laughing around with one another. 

“ Oi! Who were you blethering ‘bout with?” Questioned with a thick Scottish accent from behind, just being able to tell by the tone that was used, that a smirk was on one or both the men’s faces. 

“No one Johnny,” He replied, with a roll of his eyes as he turned to look at the two men. “ Need something?” he questions only for the two to give a mischievous grin.

“Wipe the grins off ye dafty faces.” he groaned slightly looking at the two men.

“Oh come off it, tell us who that bonnie of a lass ye were talkin to is.” The man named Johnny tells him, grinning ear to ear.” Ye never just talk, let alone help just anyone; if anything you do your best to stay away from interacting wit’ others.`` 

Johnny teased the older man, finding delight in his friend’s sour attitude.” If I heard correctly, Rosmarie was the bonnie lass’s name.” Johnny added with a smirk, looking to the side at his other friend.

“Seems like someone is smitten already, aye, Kyle?” He asked his friend, who also looked back at Johny before looking at their friend. 

“Bloody hell seems like it mate,” Kyle replied with the same shit-eating grin his friend shared. “ Fuckin’ hell..” is all the poor guy can mutter to himself, seeing that his friends did seem to have heard everything.

He just didn’t know what it was about her, but he just couldn’t tell what it was that attracted him to her. 

“Let us go before Price gets pissed we haven’t come back with more tea, I’m not lookin’ forward to being torn at for ye two twats, especially since I had to go looking for the two of ye.” is all he responds with, before starting to walk out the aisle, leaving the two younger lads behind as they celebrate about how they were right.

“Let’s just get back to Price already.” he lectured the two grown men, more like children, before reaching to check out and being quick to pay, and heading back to the car with the numbskulls following behind.

As they all got in the car, he couldn’t help but wonder to himself if he really would be seeing this Rosmarie girl again. Nor would he deny that he was looking forward to hopefully running into her again soon.

[dumbbitchgalore]

John Price would be the type of man to order you around. Not just in your sex life but also in everyday aspects of your relationship. But you don’t notice it. The way he presses his demands are often in the question format so that to you it appears as you have a choice in the matter when in reality you don’t.

For example:

Instead of saying “Go clean the house.”

He’ll say, “Sweetheart, doesn’t the house look like a mess? It’s really bothering me, honey. Oh you want to clean? Well only if you want to kiddo but no pressure I have no problem with our home looking a bit cluttered.”

He makes you seem like you’re offering to clean but only because he said it in such a way. He highlights how the problem is an inconvenience to him, hence out of the goodness in your heart, you decide to alleviate his problem.

John is a master manipulator and I believe that with all my heart.

[pazza-di-te]

Toxic husband! Price but not like beating you up type of toxic but more like traditional mindset toxic

After marrying you and retiring, he has been relaxing in a way he never did.

You sometimes think you spoiled him too much but your not complaining, he's home safe with a full belly and your not using your vibrator anymore since he's happy to give you what you need.

John respects his female colleagues, but something just hits right watching you doing household chores, washing dishes and fixing the bed and all that, while he watches his football match on the telly with a cold can of beer by his hand.

Maybe he wouldn't be that bad if you ask him to help with the dishes since the military taught him discipline in a way. But then again, he secretly just likes sitting there watching you do your thing.

He sometimes have a habit of slapping your ass when he passes by you preparing lunch or arranging the laundry.

[itsagrimm]

Soap: chills out in his underwear after work.

Gaz: has designated home wear clothes.

Price: goes from work-wear straight to passing out on the Sofa.

Ghost: "What is after-work?"

[konigsblog]

All I can think is toxic dad bod price refusing to take your virginity but fucking your ass raw

cw: misogynistic price, t!db!price

he knows you're a virgin, he adores that. he's glad you're ‘clean’—that no man has ever touched you like he has. this is the only time t!db!price ever strives for your reaction, your pleasure.

john wants to see the effect he has on you, to give the already egotistical and cocky man an even bigger ego than necessary. john's cock twitches in his loose boxers at the sight of your unused cunt infront of him. his nostrils flaring at the sweet scent emitting from your sloppy hole. it's almost addictive—the strong desire to taste it while you beg to be fucked by him and his girthy, meaty cock over and over again.

price is restless, unrelenting when he slams into your asshole repetitively. your hole swallows every inch, each girthy inch he has to offer. he slides his shaft in and out your hole in a painful manner, one that leaves you gripping the sides of the couch, looking down at your asshole as the pain spreads. your throbbing ache is completely ignored, as it's useless to t!db!price at the moment.

he wants you to beg him, like a good wife should.

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

THIS ENTIRE SERIES HAS GOT ME HOOKED!!!

Amazingly written, the angst has me ripping my heart out.

Like legit one of the best works I’ve read in a while.

Toxic!Simon has me hooked.

And honestly, as a hoe for Alex Keller, I’m on team Keller (that man is the gentleman of all gentlemen)😭😭.

@cntloup, I think you would love this series!!

part 4. of toxic simon

a/n: got a few ideas from my requests on what to add for this part so thank you very much, ash loves you <3

cw: kidnapping, weapons, murder, angst, comfort, themes of smut

It had been a few weeks since simon had walked in on you and alex. since that night, there had been a dramatic shift in the price home. the once broody lieutenant was now just the pure embodiment of rage and misery.

he barely left the guest room for the whole of his leave. and when he did, he was causing problems. never in front of your father, however. he's not stupid. but he constantly felt the need to size up alex in front of you. looming over him with that fucking mask on, flexing his muscles.

alex never indulges in simon's desperate attempts to pull a viscous reaction from him. to make you see that your new man isn't that much nicer than him, darl'. so you might as well come back to what you know.

no, instead alex leads you out of the room. not without a soft mumble of 'let's go sugar. you don't need to be hearing this.' simon wonders if you've told alex about him. about how he smashed your heart into a million little pieces.

he's gotten low a couple of nights. resorting to snapping mirror picks in his tight black briefs after his shower. you there were no identifiers that it was ghost. no, only you knew it was simon.

he's a bastard. he knows he wont get a response from you. he will, however, get to listen to the hushed bickering coming from you and alex that night when he sees the photo.

alex got called away on duty after a big fight between the two of you. It was clear that you hadn't made up by the time he left, either. simon can tell by the way you moped around. barely speaking to anyone in the home. simon tried to speak to you, hoping to score back some points whilst things were rocky between you and your man. you just brushed him off, sulking back off to your room.

later that night when simon was laying in bed, his phone buzzed with a text from you.

'simon' was all it read

simon rolled his eyes, feeling like a kicked puppy after you ignored him, he decided to ignore your message. puts his phone down and rolls over to go to sleep, ignoring the constant buzzing of his phone from behind him.

simon was sure he got a few good hours of sleep before being violently woken up to a strong hand shaking his shoulder.

"simon. simon, get up." he recognises your father's panicked voice calling out to him. he's groggy for a few moments before your father says two words that hit him like a bucket of ice water,

"she's gone."

simon feels and ice cold chill run down his spine at your father's words.

"my daughter she's fucking gone. someone took my fucking daughter."

simon had to stop price from tearing the whole house up, grabbing his shoulders and promising him that they will find you.

simon and price are on base the very next morning. along with alex, gaz, and soap. everyone is deadly silent, standing tall and ready as their captain briefs them on how they're going to get you back. Alex has a tick in his jaw and simon is sure he's going to snap if anything goes wrong

10 minutes before they ship out and simon is having a cigarette, trying to ease his nerves. he hadn't even checked his phone yet and it only just clicked in his brain that you text him last night. those messages were still unopened on his phone. with a weight on his chest, simon unlocks his phone and feels his heart sink when he sees those texts,

'simon? is that you?'

'simon seriously I can hear noises downstairs'

'are you outside my door?'

'simon, please. i'm scared.'

you were calling him for help.

simon has been fighting down bile for the past 45 minutes. the helicopter ride certainly not helping ease the horrendous amount amount of guilt he's feeling. neither is watching alex bounce his leg nervously, or price chain smoke cigar after cigar.

it's a long trek from the drop-point to the abandoned warehouse where they suspect you're being kept. simon trudging through the mud behind everyone else, praying that no one says a word to him.

"if my intel is good, she's in that building there." alex says, pointing down to the building.

"this is a weapons free op, boys. shoot to kill. do what you need to do to get my girl back home safe." price commands out in his gruff voice, but you can hear a slight edge to his tone. a streak of nervousness that simon has never seen in his captain.

It's a clean sweep once they breach the entrance, bodies dropping in quick succession. room after room being swept and an anxious feeling hanging on everyone's shoulders each time they don't find you.

simon makes his way to the basement floor, taking out the hitmen guarding the heavy metal doors at the end of the dark hallway. he pushes the door open slowly, gun raised and ready to take out an immediate threats.

there were no threats in the room, simon quickly realised, just you. poor, terrified you huddled up in the corner with chains attached to your wrists and ankles. shaking violently like a feral cat. the fear in your eyes causes simon to immediately lower his gun and raise his hands in a 'I-mean-no-harm' way.

he takes a couple hesitant steps towards you, careful not to frighten you even more.

"hey..." he whispers, "it's just-"

"she's here!"

simon was cut off by the sound of alex alerting everyone to your safety. he immediately rushes past simon, knealing in front of you. the second you recognise him, you're reaching for him as sobs start to make their way from your throat.

"It's alright, baby. I'm here, I got you. You're safe now." alex coos to you as he scoops you into his arms, leaving simon to stand behind him like a ghost.

the sight of you reaching for alex instead of him makes simon feel as through someone is prying his rib cage open with a crowbar. he felt truly left in the dust. but he can't blame you, no. this was his fault.

he lost.