#but the best romances start out like that right | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writerfromshikahr · 2 days ago

Text

I want to state this is not a "hate Neve" piece. I wrote this originally as a bit of a tongue in cheek nod to players (perceived) frustrations about the flirting between Neve and Lucanis if you're romancing him. It was a one off piece originally and then a friend of mine encouraged me to write the whole damn thing. It's silly and probably not the best writing I have ever done, but it's a fun read (oh and long)!

----------------------------------------------------------

First Cut - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

----------------------------------------------------------

It had been a mistake to stay in the room earlier, to stand there and watch Lucanis and Neve exchange flirtatious banter.

Neve had laughed, bright and melodious, and Lucanis had responded with a smile that seemed to light up the whole damn Lighthouse. Right in front of her. In front of her. The pang in her chest had been immediate and deep, leaving her breathless and struggling to maintain her composure.

Now, as she stood in the quietest corner she could find, away from everyone else, the hurt replayed itself over and over, accompanied by the cruel voice of self-doubt that she couldn’t quiet. What did you think would happen, Rook?…she chided herself. That he’d notice you when someone like Neve exists?

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the familiar burn of embarrassment. Of course, Lucanis liked her. Why wouldn’t he? Neve was stunning, with her sleek, sophisticated appearance and the grace of a refined Minrathous mage. She always had the perfect thing to say, remaining calm under pressure and exuding an effortless charm that captivated everyone. Neve was flawless. Neve was everything a woman should be.

Rook, on the other hand, was… well, she let out a humourless laugh. She was “pleasantly plump,” as one Crow had called her, with thick thighs and a belly she had long since stopped trying to hide. Her Crow leathers had to be adjusted to fit her more comfortably around her hips and legs. Where Neve embodied elegance, Rook was simply Rook. Awkward, self-conscious, and hopelessly bad at saying anything clever, she always seemed to trip over her words or, worse, blurt out something completely foolish at the worst possible moments.

You thought he felt the same way about you, didn’t you? Her heart twisted painfully at the realization. What a cruel joke. The way he had looked at Neve today was proof enough, wasn’t it? She wasn’t his type. The message was received—loud and clear.

----------------------------------------------------------

Rook had become a master at avoidance over the past few days, though it was starting to wear her thin. Every time she caught a glimpse of Lucanis, her heart clenched painfully, so she did what she could to keep her distance. She slipped out of rooms when he walked in, buried herself in tasks that required her full attention, and, when it came to conversation, she only offered clipped, polite responses to Neve, refusing to engage in anything more. It hurt to keep her walls up, but it was the only way she could cope.

Instead, she found herself spending more time with Davrin and Assan, grateful for the easy friendship they shared. Davrin, with all his swagger and occasional theatrics, had a way of making her smile even when her heart felt heavy. He was like the big brother she never had, someone who made her feel safe and seen without any of the complications that seemed to swirl around Lucanis. And with the added charm of Assan, Davrin’s adorable toddler griffon companion, there was always something to laugh about.

Today, they’d ventured out to the Arlathan Forest, a welcome reprieve from the Lighthouse and all the tangled emotions that currently lived there. The forest was peaceful, a canopy of golden leaves rustling overhead, and Rook felt some of her tension ease. She and Davrin found a small clearing atop a rocky outcrop, perfect for Assan to practice his flying. The young griffon flapped his wings with eager determination, making little leaps and swoops that brought a genuine smile to Rook’s face.

They settled on the smooth granite, sharing a simple lunch of bread and cheese, and conversation flowed easily between them. Davrin regaled her with tales of growing up in Arlathan, his voice full of life and humour, and she listened, fascinated by his stories. In turn, he asked her questions about the Crows, and she answered as best she could, occasionally making light of some of the darker aspects of her life. They even exchanged stories about their respective fights—the Grey Wardens and their eternal struggle against Archdemons, and the Crows with their endless contracts and rivalries. Despite Davrin’s opinions about her line of work, he respected her. They had built a solid friendship, and she had come to value it deeply.

He could tell she needed this time away, and so he did what he did best: kept her entertained and laughing. Still, even with all the humour and warmth between them, Davrin wasn’t blind. He’d noticed that something seemed off, that Rook was more distracted than usual. And, more curiously, he’d noticed the absence of Lucanis. Usually, the two were practically joined at the hip, their bond undeniable. But now… there was a definite shift, and he wasn’t sure how—or if—he should bring it up. As he watched her thoughtfully, he finally spoke up, trying to sound casual.

“So… you gonna tell me what’s got you all twisted up, or are we just gonna pretend you haven’t been acting like your mind’s somewhere else entirely?”

Rook looked at him, startled by the question, but then she sighed, her shoulders sagging. She had hoped that spending time with Davrin and Assan would make her forget the pain, but there was no escaping how deeply it cut her. “It’s nothing,” she said softly, but even she could hear the lie in her voice.

Davrin didn’t push. He knew her well enough to know when to leave things be. Still, he reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze, his usual cheeky grin softening. “Well, whatever it is, you know I’ve got your back, right?” Assan warbled in agreement, flapping his wings like he was seconding the sentiment.

Rook’s lips twitched into a small smile. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough to have someone who cared, someone who could make the world feel a little bit brighter. Even if she couldn’t outrun her feelings, at least she had friends who made the burden easier to carry.

----------------------------------------------------------

Lucanis’s gaze lingered on Rook, his expression dark with confusion and frustration. She had gone out of her way to placing as much distance between them as possible, choosing the spot farthest from him at the table, right between Davrin and Taash. She occasionally spoke, and her lips curved into a soft smile when Davrin leaned in to whisper something that made her laugh. The sound, bright and genuine, only twisted the knife deeper into Lucanis’s chest. She hadn’t even spared him a single glance.

He took a sip of his soup, the taste barely registering, and let out a sigh that was loud enough to draw Lace’s attention as she grabbed seconds and plopped down beside him. “This is one of the best meals you’ve cooked, Lucanis,” she said with a grin. “Seriously, it’s delicious.”

He mustered a small smile at the compliment, but his eyes drifted back to Rook. He missed her terribly—her company, their conversations, and, most of all, the way her laughter used to be directed at him. Now, it was as if he had become invisible. What did I do? he thought, trying to piece together where he’d gone wrong.

Neve, who had also taken a seat nearby, picked up on his brooding mood. She arched an eyebrow and gave him a teasing smile. “Don’t tell me my assassin is feeling broody this evening?” she asked, her tone playful.

Lucanis’s eyes flicked over to her, unfocused. “What?”

Neve rolled her eyes, grabbing a piece of bread and dipping it into her soup. “I said, you seem broody tonight,” she repeated, though she didn’t seem all that concerned about it.

He nodded, distracted, and looked back at Rook, who was still doing her best to ignore him. “Perhaps I am, Neve,” he replied, the words tasting bitter. It was infuriating how Rook refused to acknowledge him as if he’d become a ghost. He had replayed every conversation and every moment from the past few days, trying to figure out when he might have crossed a line, said something careless, or given any reason for her to pull away. Yet he kept coming up empty.

Spite, normally full of commentary and sass, had fallen unusually silent. Then again, Spite tended to grow quieter whenever Neve was around.

Neve leaned closer, trying to pull his attention back to her. “Do you want to catch up this evening?” she asked, eyes sparkling with interest. “I found a book I think will be right up your alley.”

Lucanis had barely registered her words, his mind too full of the ache that was Rook. He blinked at Neve, his expression blank. “A book?” he echoed, his voice distant.

Neve, clearly unimpressed, shook her head. “Yes, Lucanis. I have one for you,” she repeated, with a touch of exasperation.

“Oh,” he said, realizing he’d made her repeat herself. “Sure, I’ll swing by later and get it from you.” His reply sounded mechanical like he was going through the motions. But then, out of nowhere, Rook’s laughter cut through the air, loud and free, a burst of joy that caught everyone’s attention. Even Taash choked on her drink, snorting with amusement.

Lucanis felt his heart sink further. Yeah, he thought miserably. I hate it here. Watching Rook smile at Davrin felt like punishment, and not knowing how to fix things between them was driving him mad. He had no idea how to bridge the growing distance or why he had ended up here in the first place, and that, more than anything, was the most frustrating part.

----------------------------------------------------------

Rook’s heart hammered in her chest as she froze in the hallway, seeing Lucanis waiting for her. Every instinct screamed at her to turn around and walk the other way, to avoid whatever painful conversation was about to unfold, but she knew she couldn’t keep running. You can do this, she told herself, her throat tightening. She drew in a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and forced herself to speak.

“Lucanis,” she greeted, her voice carefully cool. “Is there something I can do for you?”

His brow furrowed, confusion and frustration warring on his face. “What is happening, Rook?” he asked, a hint of exasperation leaking through. “Why are you avoiding me?”

She looked away from his gaze, her eyes fixing firmly on the stone floor. If she looked at him—into those deep, dark eyes that always managed to see straight through her—she knew she’d cave. She wasn’t ready for that. For once, she was determined not to fold, to hang onto her anger, even if it pained her. “I’m not avoiding you,” she replied, her tone clipped. “I’ve been busy, you know, saving the world, fighting ancient gods… that kind of thing.”

Lucanis regarded her quietly, the weight of his gaze like a physical thing pressing down on her. “I see, have I said something or done something?”

Rook forced a smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “No, I’m fine,” she said, her voice flat and devoid of the warmth she usually reserved for him. The fine was a lie, but she clung to it desperately. It felt safer than admitting how badly he’d wounded her. And it gave her a semblance of control over her heart, a way to shield herself from the crushing weight of feeling like she wasn’t enough.

Lucanis tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Fine?” he repeated, scepticism heavy in his voice. “Hmm. It doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing.”

He took a step closer, and Rook instinctively backed up, keeping the same distance between them. She wouldn’t let him close, not when her heart was so fragile. “Perhaps you should go pick up that book from Neve,” she shot back, “I’m sure she’ll have your favourite coffee brewed and waiting.”

Lucanis’s eyes widened a fraction, the hurt flashing across his features unmistakable. Before he could respond, she brushed past him, retreating into her room and closing the door behind her. She leaned against it, breathing hard, fighting the urge to cry.

In the hallway, Lucanis stood in stunned silence, the shadows around him deepening as he tried to piece together what had just happened. His head tilted slightly, confusion etched on his face. Was this about Neve? The question churned in his mind, sending him spiralling back through every conversation, every interaction with Neve, searching for any clue. Why would Rook mention her?

It was then that Spite finally spoke up, his voice echoing in the corners of Lucanis’s mind. “Tastes like… envy,” the demon mused, each word slow and almost thoughtful. “Yes. Bitter. Sharp.”

Lucanis’s eyes widened in sudden realization. Envy. Rook was jealous? His heart lurched at the thought, a mix of confusion, guilt, and something else he couldn’t quite name. Jealous of what? That was the bigger question, but he had a place to start, which was more than he had moments before.

----------------------------------------------------------

Lucanis listened to Neve, his gaze thoughtful as he leaned back into the couch, sipping his coffee. The cozy yet refined atmosphere of her room couldn’t fully soothe his restless mind. "Jealous? Of me? Odd," Neve mused, sounding genuinely perplexed. "We aren't exactly bosom buddies, but we've always had a good working relationship. She's a capable mage, highly recommended if you listen to House de Riva. And she’s... well, sweet. Maybe a little too sweet at times. The world can be harsh, and people like Rook don't always make it out in one piece."

Lucanis tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Sweet? Yes, she is,” he agreed, but there was more to it. “there’s strength in her, too. The kind that can get us through this, no matter how bad things get.” He paused, searching Neve’s eyes. “You know why Viago sent her out of Antiva, right?”

Neve nodded, her brow knitting together slightly. “I got the gist from him. He seemed… displeased.”

Lucanis’s smile widened a fraction. “Viago is always displeased,” he said with a hint of humour, “but he does have a soft spot for Rook, even if he won’t admit it. She climbed the ranks fast. Full membership with the Crows at a young age. Orphaned and taken in by House de Riva when she was around eight. But what got her exiled was taking initiative where she shouldn’t have.” He swirled his coffee, his eyes reflecting a complicated mix of pride and sadness. “She has heart—a soft one, maybe—but she freed a group of prisoners and slaves one night, prisoners the Antaam would’ve had executed. Varric was among them. You know that part.”

Neve leaned forward, her interest piqued. “Yes, but?”

“But,” Lucanis continued, “her actions derailed a much larger operation. She saved lives, but it cost the Crows.. That’s what led to her downfall.” He stared into his coffee, the steam curling up like ghostly whispers. “She’s got a good heart.”

Neve considered his words, sitting beside him and absorbing the weight of what he’d said. “A good heart that ultimately got her kicked out of her city,” she pointed out, “But that doesn’t explain why she’s jealous of me.”

Lucanis gave her a wry smile, one brow lifting slightly. “I figured the renowned Minrathous detective might have some insight to bestow upon me.”

Neve laughed, the sound warm and clear. “Oh, sure. Because I’m great with people, right?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Tell you what: maybe I’ll have a word with Davrin. They’re close. Leave it with me, and I’ll get back to you.”

Lucanis's smile softened, but his heart felt heavy with uncertainty. "I appreciate it," he said, though the thought of Rook feeling hurt, even if it was out of jealousy, left an ache in his chest that he couldn't quite shake.

----------------------------------------------------------

“Jealous?” Davrin echoed, his eyebrows rising with genuine surprise. “Of you? Hmm... nope. She hasn’t said anything to me, but she has been distracted. Yeah, that’s the right word.” He set down his latest whittling project, a small wooden figure of what looked like a griffon, and studied Neve with his usual thoughtful expression. “But she hasn’t said anything to you?”

Neve shook her head. “Nothing, I’m afraid.”

Davrin let out a sigh, leaning back. “Look, Rook is a good person, but even I know some people need space from time to time. I’m not going to pressure her into telling me anything she doesn’t want to share. But...” he trailed off, tapping his chin, “she and Lucanis used to be practically joined at the hip. Wherever he was, she’d be right there. If you ask me, she’s sweet on him, and it’s not just that whole Crow loyalty thing.”

Neve’s eyes widened slightly. “She has a crush?”

Davrin shook his head with a small smile. “No, not a crush. She likes him. I can see it in the way she is around him, and I know her pretty well.”

Neve frowned, her mind racing. “So... what do I have to do with all of this? Seems a little strange that I’d be involved.”

Davrin tilted his head, smirking a little. “Well, who told you she was jealous?”

“Lucanis,” Neve replied, sounding almost exasperated.

“But who told him?” Davrin shot back, a knowing grin on his face.

Neve paused, then rolled her eyes. “Spite told him,” she admitted with a touch of reluctance.

Davrin’s laughter burst out, loud and unapologetic. “Oh, so we’re taking the word of a demon now?” He shook his head, clearly entertained. “This is hilarious.”

Neve threw her hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, Lucanis takes him seriously! And to be fair, that demon has never led us astray.” Her lips twitched with a hint of amusement despite herself.

Davrin exhaled, the humour fading to something more contemplative. “All right, leave it with me. Rook and I are heading out to Lavendel together soon. I’ll have a chat with her, and see if I can make sense of this mess.”

Neve nodded, a small smile of relief crossing her face. “Thanks, Davrin. Just... tread carefully, okay? Whatever’s going on, it matters a lot to her.”

Davrin gave her a mock salute. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” But as he picked up his whittling project again, he couldn’t help but wonder if his friend was ready to admit the truth to herself.

----------------------------------------------------------

"What the fuck, Davrin? Who told you that?!"

Davrin blinked in surprise at Rook's outburst. "Who told you I was jealous of Neve?!"

"Hey, I’m just asking for interested parties. They figured I’d know what’s up with my friend," he replied, holding his hands up defensively.

Rook turned away from him, her fists clenched at her sides. She was too angry to speak—not at Davrin, no. Davrin could annoy her, sure, but Lucanis? He could make her seethe. And knowing that this line of questioning was coming from Neve of all people made her want to throw herself straight into the Fade, never to return.

"Rook," Davrin said quietly, his tone unusually gentle, "I promise, I won’t breathe a word if you tell me what’s bothering you. Warden’s honor."

Rook glanced at him, catching the earnestness in his expression. For once, he wasn’t cracking a joke to lighten the mood. She let out a sharp exhale and looked away again, debating whether to open up. Finally, she gave in.

“I swear to the Maker, if you report back to them, I’ll take out a contract on you,” she grumbled before the words burst out of her. “It’s the fucking flirting! Neve and Lucanis flirt all the fucking time, and I’M RIGHT FUCKING THERE! They just flirt like I’m invisible. I—well…” She hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I like him, and he never flirts with me. Never mentions anything about buying me something at the markets, or, ‘Hey, Rook, here’s a flower I picked for you,’ or anything like that. Nothing! I get nothing. It’s infuriating. What is wrong with me? Well, I know what’s wrong with me. Look at me. Look at this!”

She grabbed her thigh angrily, gesturing in frustration.

Davrin didn’t interrupt. He just listened, his expression calm and steady, letting her vent it all out.

“She’s perfect,” Rook continued, her voice shaking with anger. “Perfect hair, perfect outfits, perfect everything. And then there’s me—always saying the wrong thing, always crumpled. And he’s all, ‘Wow, Neve, great shot,’ while I’ve just literally slaughtered ten thousand darkspawn and not once does that man say anything.”

Davrin waited a beat to make sure she was finished before speaking. “I see. Well, thank you for finally telling me. I feel like we’re making progress here.”

Rook shot him a sharp look, her frustration now turning toward him.

“So, you like Lucanis,” Davrin said with a knowing smile. “I thought as much. I mean, it was obvious to me—everyone else seems to be walking around with blinders on.”

Rook groaned, dramatically flopping her head into her hands. “Don’t tell me that, Dav. It’s not making me feel any better. I already feel like the biggest idiot alive. I guess Viago was right.”

Davrin slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in, his tone soft but firm. “That’s my friend you’re talking about, and I don’t take kindly to people putting her down. Question is, where do you go from here?”

Rook let out a long, exhausted sigh. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m so angry at him right now. And unfairly pissed off at Neve. But I can’t forgive him yet. I’m far too in my ‘petty era’ right now.”

“I can tell, Rook,” Davrin began, his voice steady but not unkind. “Thing is, he doesn’t know what he’s done. Not sure how the man is supposed to make amends if he isn’t told.”

Rook stared off into the small village that Davrin and her had spent the last two days protecting from the Blight, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. “How does he not know? The man is a walking romance novel with her! Why doesn’t he do that with me?” She paused, her voice dropping into something quieter. “I know I’m not like her… I get that…”

Davrin cut her off before she could spiral any further. “For the love of the Maker, Rook, you’re gorgeous. Why do you keep comparing yourself to her? Sure, you’re nothing like Neve, but you’re you, and that ain’t bad.”

Rook gave him a deadpan stare, one eyebrow arching. “Really? Now you’re hitting on me?”

“Fuck no,” Davrin shot back with mock indignation. “I know who your boyfriend is... and he terrifies me.”

Rook snorted, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “He’s not my boyfriend. I have no idea what we are. At the moment, he just annoys me.” She let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I’m going to have to talk to him, aren’t I?”

There was a note of defeat in her voice, like she was resigning herself to some inevitable punishment.

“Fuck… why do I have to be the one to do it? I want him to apologize. I want him to beg for forgiveness.” She groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Wow, I really am being petty.”

Davrin grinned, his expression both amused and supportive. “Yes, but it suits you.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you want me to say something to him? Informing him of his gross oversight of sneaking around trying to find out what’s wrong with you and then maybe steer him toward an ‘ah-ha’ moment?”

“You’d do that for me?” she asked quietly, her voice softer now, vulnerable.

“Of course,” Davrin said with a mock-serious nod. “Killing darkspawn, being a baby daddy to Assan, and sorting out budding romances at the Lighthouse? Those are my specialties.”

Rook rolled her eyes and playfully swatted his arm. “Dumbass.”

Davrin grinned, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way. “Maybe so,” he said, leaning back with exaggerated confidence, “but I’m your dumbass. And where would you be without me?”

----------------------------------------------------------

Lucanis had been quiet all day. Davrin knew he was a man of few words, but today’s outing with him and Lace had been decidedly less chatty than normal. Now, they sat around a tavern table, finally letting some warmth soak into their bones. The Lighthouse’s perpetual twilight made it easy to forget the biting cold of Thedas, but the roaring fire beside them was a rare luxury this evening.

Davrin watched Lucanis as he stared into his coffee mug, the steam curling up like ghosts between his hands. Lace was busy chatting with the patrons at a nearby table, her laughter carrying faintly over the hum of conversation.

“So, Lucanis,” Davrin said casually, breaking the silence. “You’ve been a little quiet today. Anything amiss?”

Lucanis looked up, his dark eyes sharp as they met Warden's. “I’m not in the mood.” His tone was flat, cold.

For a moment, silence hung between them, but Davrin wasn’t one to back down so easily. He leaned back in his chair, watching Lucanis carefully. “I see that,” he said finally. “Wondering if I can help you out with that?”

Lucanis sipped his coffee, his gaze distant, and he could tell he was mulling something over. “You know Rook well,” the assassin said after a long pause. “Probably better than I.”

Davrin shifted in his chair, not entirely sure where this was going. He prayed to the Maker it didn’t involve knives. “Ahhh, yes,” he replied cautiously. “Though I’d say you know our fearless leader pretty well too.”

“I’m not so sure of that.” Lucanis’s words were quiet but firm, his eyes flicking back to him for a moment before returning to his coffee cup.

Davrin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m guessing you’re looking for answers,” he said lightly, nodding toward the mug. “Doubtful you’ll find them in there, my friend.”

A faint, almost reluctant smile tugged at Lucanis’s lips. “Perhaps not,” he admitted. “But coffee is good for reflection.” He paused, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him visibly. “I’ve done something. I know I have. But she won’t tell me what it is, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Well, I know what you’ve done.”

Davrin smiled slyly, taking a sip of his beer like he wasn’t about to drop a bombshell. “It’s your lucky day, Crow.”

Lucanis stared at him, his mouth slightly agape. “You know?”

The Warden nodded, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Sure do. And I can’t say it’s an easy fix—for you, at least. But,” he added, setting his mug down with a heavy clink, “if you applied as much effort into correcting your mistake as you do into flirting with a certain detective, you might just win her heart back.”

Davrin punctuated his sentence with a deep, exaggerated gulp of his drink, clearly pleased with himself.

Lucanis just looked at him, his face blank, and said nothing for the longest while. The lively chatter and laughter of the tavern seemed to fill the silence as Davrin waited, unsure if he had heard him.

“Flirting?” Lucanis repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and offense. “With Neve? Flirting, as in me being suggestive with Neve?”

Davrin smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you need to say it a third time, Crow? Whatever way you cut it, it still sounds a bit... shit.”

Lucanis blinked, his mouth opening slightly as if to argue, but Davrin pressed on, clearly enjoying himself.

“I guess Rook just got fed up with hearing about you wanting to buy Neve fresh fish and flowers at the market.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Oh, and I think she said—” Davrin cleared his throat for dramatic effect—“and I quote: ‘And he’s all, “Wow, Neve, great shot,” while I’ve just literally slaughtered ten thousand darkspawn, and not once does that man say anything.’”

He leaned back with a satisfied grin, taking another sip of his beer. “Yeah, I think that about covers the gist of what she vented to me for a solid 45 minutes.”

“Mierda,” Lucanis muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

Davrin waved at the serving girl over with a grin. “Yes, you’re screwed, Lucanis,” he said cheerfully. “But, as I mentioned, you can make this better… I think.” He ordered another beer for himself and a fresh coffee for his brooding friend.

Lucanis’s brow furrowed, his voice low and resigned. “What else did she say? I need to know just how much of a gilipollas I’ve been.”

Davrin laughed, the sound loud enough to turn a few heads nearby. “I’m assuming that’s something bad—and if it is, you deserve it.” He leaned back, his grin widening. “Let’s see… what else did she say? Oh, right!”

Davrin sat forward, lowering his voice to mimic Rook’s, exaggerating her frustration: ‘Nothing! I get nothing. It’s infuriating. What is wrong with me? Neve and Lucanis flirt all the fucking time, and I’M RIGHT FUCKING THERE! They just flirt like I’m invisible.’ He leaned back with a satisfied smirk. “And, of course, more liberal usage of the word ‘fuck.’”

“I don’t know what to say,” Lucanis muttered, his voice low. He slumped back in his chair, looking more defeated than Davrin had ever seen him. “I’m not sure what I’m meant to say. I don’t mean anything by it—the flirting. I never thought…”

“No, you didn’t,” Davrin cut in sharply, holding up a hand to stop him. “Why would you? You ask her for advice on gifts for Neve, buy her nothing, and expect everything to be fine?” He shook his head, leaning forward. “Shit, Lucanis, you could pick Rook a flower off a random bush in Arlathan, and she’d be insufferably happy for days. I do it all the time for her, and I don’t even want to fuck her.”

Lucanis’s brow furrowed deeper, but he didn’t interrupt.

Davrin leaned back with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bare minimum, my friend. Bare. Minimum. And you’ve somehow managed to fall below that. Impressive, really.”

He punctuated his words with a long swig of his beer, shaking his head as he set the mug down.

“So, this is how you’re going to fix this,” Davrin began, pointing a finger at Lucanis for emphasis. “After we’re done at this outpost, we’re heading home, and you are going to beg for some kind of forgiveness. Kneel if you have to. Hell, throw in a prayer to the Maker while you’re at it and hope that gorgeous woman decides to give you another chance.”

Lucanis stared at him, his mouth opening slightly, but Davrin didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And keep your damn mouth shut around Neve,” Davrin continued, leaning forward for extra emphasis. “I get it—Neve is damn fine to look at. But those thoughts? Inside thoughts, not outside thoughts, Lucanis. And for the love of everything holy, make sure your demon is on board with this too.”

Lucanis fiddle with the handle on his cup, guilt practically radiating off him, but Davrin wasn’t done.

“She likes you, I know she does. But she’s hurt, and a woman scorned is a terrifying force of nature.”

Davrin sat back, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “So what’s the plan, Crow?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Lucanis muttered, running a hand down his face. “I’ll think of something. I’ll fix this.”

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Davrin.

“It better be good,” Davrin said pointedly, leaning back in his chair. “Because she is pissed, and I don’t blame her. And for the love of the Maker, can you tell her that you like her? It’s clear as day to me, but she has no idea. She thinks you don’t even see her.”

Lucanis opened his mouth to retort, but Davrin barreled on.

“This whole ‘I’m possessed by a demon and I can’t love anyone’ trope is old, Lucanis. If you can charm Neve halfway around Minrathous, you can bloody well lavish some of that charm on Rook.”

“I’ll fix it,” Lucanis said firmly, though the conviction in his voice wavered just slightly. “And… thank you, for letting me know.”

Davrin gave him a hearty pat on the back, his grin equal parts teasing and supportive. “I don’t envy you, Lucanis. I thought fighting the ancient Gods was going to be tough, but this? Seems like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Lucanis let out a quiet breath, half a smile tugging at his lips. He knew Davrin was right.

----------------------------------------------------------

He found her up on the balcony, as he expected. Rook often went there to read when she needed space from everyone else. Davrin slid onto the bench beside her, and they sat in comfortable silence, the quiet of the moment broken only by the rustle of pages and the distant sounds of the Lighthouse.

Assan nuzzled his head against Rook’s arm, demanding pats, which she happily obliged, scratching behind the young griffon’s ears.

“It’s good to have you back,” she said finally, her voice soft but genuine. “I missed you. Did it go well?”

Davrin smiled, leaning back. “Of course it did. Harding is a terrible cook, though... but apart from that, we got the job done.”

Rook huffed a laugh, but before she could reply, Davrin added, almost too casually, “Oh, and I spoke to the Crow.”

Rook froze for a moment, her smile faltering. “Oh, Maker, how did that go?” She waved a hand before he could answer. “You know what? Don’t tell me. I’ve been perfectly happy here without him.”

Davrin turned his head, giving her a pointed side-eye. “Sure, sure... you’ve been perfectly happy.”

Rook glared at him over the top of her book, but he wasn’t done.

“He knows what he’s done wrong now,” Davrin continued with a shrug, “and is, and I quote, ‘formulating a plan,’ whatever the fuck that means.”

“A plan?” Rook repeated, her gaze drifting off into the endless expanse of the Fade sky. She hesitated, her fingers absently scratching Assan’s feathers as she gathered her thoughts. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want complete honesty. Even if it’s not what I want to hear.”

Davrin tilted his head, his smile softening. “Always.”

Rook turned to him, her voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “Does the man even remotely like me?”

Davrin’s grin widened as he leaned back against the railing, taking a moment before answering. “Rook,” he said slowly, “I watched the blood drain out of the his face when I laid it all out on the table for him. I have never seen such a sorry sight.” He paused, his tone turning more sincere. “If that’s any indication of what he’s feeling, I think he’s sweet on you.”

Rook’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression unreadable.

“He’s clueless,” Davrin added with a shrug. “I doubt he’s ever had a relationship before. Doesn’t excuse what he did, but I know he’ll fix it—or at least try to.”

Rook leaned her head on his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why is life so hard? Everything feels so complicated, and I’m so tired. I know you said I shouldn’t compare myself to anyone, but… I don’t always feel strong, you know?” She paused, her fingers idly stroking Assan’s feathers. “Have I blown this all out of proportion? I think… I think I need to speak to Neve. She’s lovely—I know she is.”

Davrin stayed quiet for a long moment, his usual humor replaced by a thoughtful stillness.

“I think, sometimes, Rook,” he said softly, “you don’t see yourself the way the rest of us see you. At the heart of it all, you’re a good person. And yes, you’re beautiful too.”

Rook shifted slightly, about to protest, but Davrin pressed on.

“People come in all shapes and sizes. That doesn’t make anyone worth less than the next person. Maybe instead of comparing yourself to what you’re not, you should take a hard look at all the amazing things you are. All the shit you’ve accomplished under impossible odds. Hell, you’ve even put Solas in his place a few times—and that guy’s a dick.”

“That’s a weird way to ask me out on a date, Dav,” Rook said with a small smile, her eyes glinting with playful mischief.

Davrin laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the balcony. “You wish, de Riva. You and me would never work out.” He leaned back, grinning. “Besides, I come with a kid in tow—parenthood is tough.”

Rook chuckled, scratching Assan under the chin as the griffon chirped contentedly.

“Nah,” Davrin continued, “I think you’re more suited to the stabbity-stab life of Crow intrigue. I’m just a simple man, a Grey Warden with modest needs. You’d outlive me, no doubt, and I can’t have you being all mopey about the charming and heroic warrior you once knew.”

----------------------------------------------------------

She heard the faint rustle of a note slipping under her door just as she was drifting off to sleep. For a moment, she considered leaving it there until morning, her exhaustion tugging at her. But curiosity got the better of her.

Pulling the blanket tightly around her shoulders, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, shivering as her feet touched the cold floor. With a quiet sigh, she padded across the room, picked up the envelope, and sank into the worn couch by the window.

The candlelight flickered softly, casting long shadows as she slid her finger under the seal. The handwriting inside was instantly familiar, and her breath caught as she unfolded the letter.

-----

Rook,

I have thought about what to write in this letter to you for days as we made our way back home. I am usually good at making plans and coming up with solutions to any problem. Unfortunately, in this case, I am the problem, and I don’t know how to fix the hurt I’ve caused you.

That being said, I will try to make this right. If you decide not to accept my apology, I will understand. But if you can find it in your heart to let me make this up to you, I would be grateful.

Meet me in Treviso tomorrow evening at my favourite café—you know the one. We went there not long after I joined you at the Lighthouse.

I will wait for you.

—Lucanis

-----

Rook sank back into her couch, the letter still clutched against her chest. Stupid Antivan man, she thought, her lips twitching into a faint smile despite herself.

She couldn’t deny it—no matter how frustrated she was, no matter how much she wanted to stay angry—she was willing to hear him out.

----------------------------------------------------------

There was a knock at the door.

“Can I come in, Rook?” Neve’s voice was soft but firm.

From inside, she heard a flurry of shuffling, a thud, and several muffled expletives. Finally, the door creaked open.

“Yes, come in,” Rook said, rubbing her toe with a wince. “I’m just getting ready to…”

Neve smiled knowingly. “Meet Lucanis in Treviso. I know.”

Rook sighed, slumping back slightly. “Of course you know. He probably told you.”

She moved to the couch, sitting down to pull on her boots, her movements stiff with nervous energy. Neve stepped inside, her gaze drifting to the window where the shimmering fish swam lazily outside.

“You really do have the best room at the Lighthouse,” Neve remarked, her voice distant. “No wisps, just the fish.” She turned back to Rook, her expression softening. “No, he didn’t tell me. Davrin did.”

Rook paused, her hands hovering over her laces.

“I wanted to stop by and tell you to enjoy yourself,” Neve continued. “If I know Lucanis, he’ll have a wonderful evening planned for you.” She hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, her tone quieter but no less sincere. “And I also wanted to tell you... I envy you.”

Rook’s head snapped up in surprise. “Envy me?”

Neve gave a small, bittersweet smile. “He’s a good man, apart from the whole abomination thing he’s got going on.” Her smile widened slightly, a hint of humor in her voice. “I’ll admit, I entertained the idea of him and me once. But it was clear his heart had already chosen another.”

Rook opened her mouth to respond, but Neve cut her off gently.

“Like all men, he’s a bit of an idiot, and he’s made mistakes,” Neve said, her gaze steady. “But if you let him, he’ll spend the rest of his life making it up to you.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Rook admitted, her voice quieter now. “I do feel stupid for being unkind to you. I’m sorry about that.”

Neve waved the apology away with a small smile. “No need for deep and meaningfuls, Rook. We’re both busy women with jobs to do. But tonight?” She stepped closer, her expression softening. “You have a date with a Crow.”

Rook shifted awkwardly, Neve’s eyes scanning her as if assessing her readiness. “I know,” Rook said, glancing down at herself. “I’m in my leathers. I probably should have dressed—”

Neve cut her off with a laugh. “I saw Lucanis leave for the Eluvian. He was dressed in his too. Are you Crows ever not on the clock?”

Rook chuckled despite herself. “You’ve met my boss, right? Viago?”

Neve grinned. “Point taken.” She reached for the door, her hand hovering for a moment before turning back. “Anyway, enjoy your evening. I hope it’s everything you need and want.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Davrin had insisted on accompanying her through the Eluvian to Treviso, despite her protests.

“You didn’t need to escort me, Dav,” Rook said as they stepped out into the bustling city. She smoothed down her cloak, her tone exasperated but affectionate. “I’m more than capable of navigating a city I’ve lived in most of my life.”

“Yeah, I know,” Davrin replied with a casual shrug. “But I did need to come here. Lucanis has me set up with his blacksmith. And, well…” He paused, glancing sideways at her. “I wanted to make sure you got here okay. If things go south, you know I’m around.”

Rook nudged him with her elbow, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve never had a brother, but you are bordering on the whole ‘protective big brother’ vibes right now. And I have to say, it suits you.”

Davrin smiled shyly, looking away as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know you’re pissed at Dellamorte,” he said softly. “I get it. But let him speak. Give him a chance, Rook.”

She sighed, her gaze dropping for a moment. “I’m not that angry anymore. I spoke to Neve before heading here—she came to my room.”

Davrin raised an eyebrow, his expression suddenly amused. “Please tell me she left said room. I know what you Crows are like,” he added with a chuckle.

Rook rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “She’s very much alive, thank you. And she said something… odd. Something I wasn’t expecting.”

“Oh?” Davrin leaned in, curious.

“She said she was envious of me,” Rook admitted, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Davrin stopped in his tracks, raising both eyebrows now. “Well, well,” he said with exaggerated flair. “It seems we’ve come full circle. Now she’s jealous of you! I believe I’m experiencing whiplash.”

As they walked along the bustling streets of her hometown, Rook couldn’t ignore the faint queasiness in her stomach. She wasn’t angry anymore—not really. More… disgruntled. But there was no venom behind the feeling now. Lucanis had made a mistake, and, if she was being honest with herself, she’d probably blown it out of proportion—a tendency she sometimes leaned into more than she should.

At least she’d managed to entertain everyone at the Lighthouse with the intrigue and drama.

“Ahhh, I love it here,” Davrin mused, breaking her train of thought. His eyes roamed the lively street, the laughter and chatter of the city swirling around them. “Great atmosphere, excellent food, and some rather beautiful distractions for the taking.”

Rook rolled her eyes, her nerves briefly forgotten as she fought back a smirk.

“And it seems,” Davrin added with a dramatic flourish as they neared the café, “I have delivered you to your destination, my Queen.” He swept into an exaggerated bow, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Maker, you’re an idiot,” Rook said, shaking her head with a smile. “But I love you despite it.”

Davrin grinned and placed both hands firmly on her shoulders, leaning in just slightly. “You’ve got this, Rook. Go forth and get your man and—let him speak. He can actually be pretty good at it, you know, when he’s not saying all the wrong things.”

Rook took a deep breath, her nerves settling just enough to nod. “Wish me luck?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Davrin shook his head, his grin softening into something more earnest. “Nah, you don’t need it. You’ve got this, girl. No luck required.”

He stepped ahead and held the door open for her. She squared her shoulders and walked through, the warm hum of the café greeting her as she crossed the threshold.

Davrin lingered outside for a moment, watching her disappear inside. He knew, deep down, it would all be okay. But still, a small pang of worry tugged at him—for his friend, for her heart, and for the man she was about to face.

----------------------------------------------------------

The café was empty.

Anxiety, her old and unwelcome friend, crept up her spine as she glanced around the dimly lit space. Had she gotten the wrong day? The wrong time? Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she dug into her bag, pulling out the note Lucanis had sent. She unfolded it with shaky fingers, scanning the words again, double-checking that she hadn’t misread anything.

No. She was in the right place.

But as her eyes flicked to the counter, the absence of anyone behind it made her chest tighten further. The café felt eerily quiet, the usual hum of conversation replaced by the soft ticking of a clock.

Now she felt like the idiot. Where was he? And why was she standing awkwardly in an empty coffee shop at eight o’clock at night?

As a Crow, this screamed assassination attempt, and the thought made her pulse quicken. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but her hand instinctively drifted to the hilt of the blade hidden beneath her cloak.

Not that she’d ever killed anyone with a dirk before—magic was her usual go-to—but the weight of the blade under her fingers offered some small comfort. Her unease grew as she wandered further into the café, cautiously checking dark corners and peeking around the pillars.

She moved closer to the counter, her nerves prickling with every step, when suddenly, Lucanis popped up from behind it.

“Maker’s breath!” Rook yelped, jumping back, her heart hammering as she glared at him.

Lucanis stood there, his dark eyes warm as they met hers, and a small, gorgeous smile spread across his lips—the one that always managed to disarm her.

“Rook,” he said softly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “You came.”

“Why were you hiding behind the counter?!” Rook exclaimed, her voice sharp with surprise.

Lucanis straightened, brushing imaginary dust from his leathers. “I was looking for sugar,” he said matter-of-factly. “I know you like your coffee sweet and hot. Good news: I found it.”

He turned his attention to the coffee pot, busying himself with making their drinks as if nothing about this was out of the ordinary.

Rook crossed her arms, glancing around the empty café. “And you now own this place?” she asked, her tone tinged with amusement.

Lucanis smirked, glancing at her over his shoulder. “I asked the owner for a favor and promised to pay him back with a free contract.”

Rook blinked in surprise before letting out a laugh. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not,” she said, shaking her head. “You never work for free.”

“Sometimes I do,” Lucanis said with a small smile, handing her the steaming cup. “Let’s sit… the table over there.”

He gestured toward a cozy corner, and Rook’s gaze followed. The table had been set perfectly, a small display of her favorite desserts arranged neatly on a plate, waiting for her.

Her lips twitched in a faint smile as she followed him. They settled into their chairs, and for a moment, a comfortable silence fell between them as they both enjoyed the first few sips of their drinks.

Lucanis leaned back, cradling his cup in his hands. “Good coffee...And yours?”

Rook took another sip, savoring the warmth and sweetness. It was perfect—just the way she liked it. “You know it’s good,” she replied, glancing at him over the rim of her cup. “If there’s one thing you never fail at, it’s making it exactly the way I like it.”

A satisfied smile spread across his face, lighting his dark eyes.

Setting her cup down, Rook slipped off her gloves and laid them neatly on the table, the nervous energy in her hands too much to contain. Lucanis noticed, of course—he always did. He knew her tells. Whenever she was anxious, she’d fidget, her fingers tracing the stitching of her coat over and over again or right now, fiddling with her gloves,

“Rook…” he began, his voice soft, testing the waters, “I’m sorry—” , but Rook cut him off.

“I know I’m an idiot,” she blurted, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I should have just told you, and instead it became this whole thing involving everyone, and I didn’t mean for it to get so... big. It was stupid of me.”

Lucanis watched her for a long moment, his gaze steady and unreadable. Then, without a word, he placed his hand gently over hers.

“Rook,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what? I’m not doing anything,” she replied, immediately defensive. She picked up her cup again, taking a long sip—anything to avoid his gaze.

“Blaming yourself. Apologising for things you don’t need to apologise for,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. “I am the one to blame for your worries. I was the one who hurt you.”

“Yes, but you didn’t know,” Rook said quickly, her words tumbling out before she could think better of them. “And if I hadn’t been so damn stubborn—or dare I say petulant—I could have just told you. But I felt… well, I did feel stupid.”

Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, her voice softening as she admitted, “You were an arse though.”

A faint smile flickered across his face, but he stayed quiet, waiting.

“Why did you do it?” she asked, her eyes meeting his briefly before darting away. “It’s okay if you want to—”

She stopped herself mid-sentence, before her mouth could betray her further, she grabbed one of the neatly arranged cakes from the plate and shoved it into her mouth.

It worked—a bit too well. She sat frozen for a moment, cheeks puffed with cake, as the realisation of what she’d just done hit her. Across the table, Lucanis raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching as he tried not to laugh.

It took forever to get through the sugary treat—she’d completely forgotten how chewy they were. Looking effortlessly graceful with a mouthful of cake was not the impression she’d been going for.

Lucanis, ever observant, seized the opportunity to speak before she could finish. It might be the only way to get a word in.

“Yes,” he began, his tone quiet but deliberate. “I fully accept your blunt observation of myself.”

Rook raised an eyebrow at him, still chewing, but didn’t interrupt.

“Why I did it?” Lucanis continued, his gaze dropping briefly to the table. “It’s… was easy to flirt with Neve. A distraction from what’s in my mind, who shares my body, and everything else—fighting Gods, dealing with the Blight…” He paused, his voice softening. “But, also, it means nothing. And when it means nothing, there’s no possibility of consequences.”

“Consequences?” she managed, still chewing, her words slightly muffled.

“Yes,” Lucanis replied, his voice steady but quieter now. “If I don’t say those things to you, it’s not because I don’t notice you, enjoy your company, or desire someone else. It’s quite the opposite.”

Rook froze mid-chew, her eyes widening slightly as she watched him, his gaze fixed firmly on her.

“But how would you know this?” he continued, his tone filled with a rare vulnerability. “I’ve never told you. And I have never reciprocated any of the affection you have so generously given me.”

“But you said consequences, and I’m still not following,” Rook said, finally finishing her cake.

Lucanis sighed, frustration flickering across his face. Maker, he wished he were better with words—like his cousin Illario. “Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck I’m trying to say right now.” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away before meeting her eyes again.

“I’m not good at this, Rook,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “But I struggle with you because… because you mean something to me. You’re not just a distraction. You’re something that has—” He hesitated, the next word slipping out before he could stop it. “...weight.”

He saw her gaze drop instantly to her coffee, her expression unreadable.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Lucanis’s stomach dropped. Why the fuck did you say that? Davrin had specifically told him not to mention the word weight.

“Yes, I’m aware I have ‘weight,’” she replied, her tone dry as she raised an eyebrow at him.

Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, gesturing to the plate. “Thank you for highlighting that right after watching me devour at least three of these cakes.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a mock-serious expression. “And for the record, they were delicious, and I have zero regrets eating them.”

“What I meant is… you’re special to me,” Lucanis said, his voice quieter now, his dark eyes meeting hers. “To Spite, as well. And that’s dangerous to admit. It’s information that could be used against me—or you. And Maker knows Viago will not be pleased.”

He paused, frustration clear on his face. “I never flirted with you because… because I care for you. More than a friend.” His voice softened, the words weighted with sincerity. “Hopefully, I get to be more. But I’m the most foolish of men when it comes to matters of the heart. I’m not good at… any of this.”

Rook’s gaze shifted, taking in the café around her. The warm, romantic glow of the lights, the beautifully laid-out table, the intimacy of the setting—it all seemed so deliberate, so unlike the Lucanis she thought she knew.

Her eyes landed back on him, and she arched an eyebrow. “You’re not good at being romantic? Or apologies? Because, by the way, you still haven’t said sorry.”

“Despite my Antivan heritage, we aren’t all blessed with my cousin’s gift for romance,” Lucanis said with a wry smile. “But I’ll try—for you.”

He stood, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape against the floor, and stepped around the table.

“And this,” he continued, his voice dropping to something softer, almost reverent, “is where I kneel at your feet and beg for your forgiveness.”

Before Rook could react, he sank to one knee before her, taking her hand gently in his. His eyes lifted to meet hers, his expression utterly sincere.

“I am sorry,” he began, his voice steady but weighted with emotion. “For any hurt I caused you. I am sorry for my misplaced charm. I am sorry for letting you think you are anything less than breathtaking to me.”

Her breath caught, the words hitting her like a wave.

“I am sorry you ever felt you were not enough,” he went on, his thumb brushing softly against her knuckles, “when you are—more than enough in every way a woman can be. I am sorry. Truly sorry.”

He paused, his voice softening even further as he added, “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I swear to you—you will never doubt my affection for you for as long as I breathe.”

Rook sat in silence, her gaze fixed on the man kneeling before her. She turned her hand slightly in his, lacing her fingers through his as she searched for the right words.

“How am I supposed to stay angry at you now?” she said finally, her voice soft but tinged with exasperation. “The cakes, the candlelight, and that—” she gestured toward him with her free hand—“what you just said… Maker’s breath, you’re impossible.”

Lucanis’s lips curved into a hesitant smile, hope flickering in his eyes.

She sighed, shaking her head slightly. “And… I forgive you,” she added, her voice steady now, but her cheeks flushed.

“But I swear,” Rook continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, “if you ever make me feel that way again, I’ll take a contract out on you. Better than that—” she leaned forward, her tone dropping for emphasis—“I’ll kill you myself.”

Lucanis tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he rose to his feet.

“I’d like to see you try,” he replied smoothly, settling back into his chair across from her, “Promise me there will be lots of struggling,” Lucanis added, his voice dropping into a playful drawl. “Rolling around, grabbing for each other’s daggers…” He leaned forward slightly, a wicked glint in his eyes. “And sweaty. It’ll be sweaty, right?”

Urrgghhhh. She hated it when he turned it back on her like that.

Rook crossed her arms, trying to maintain her composure, but she could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks. She wasn’t nearly as good as he was at making death threats sound… sultry.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, grabbing her coffee and taking a long sip to avoid saying anything else that might give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d flustered her.

“Are you flirting with me, Dellamorte?” Rook asked, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “I thought you didn’t do that.”

Lucanis leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “First time for everything, de Riva,” he replied smoothly. “You could say I’m making up for lost time.”

“I’m not sure if I should say yes or no,” Rook admitted, a nervous smile playing at her lips.

Lucanis leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady, his voice soft but teasing. “Say yes. Take a risk. See what happens.”

He could see the conflict in her eyes, the struggle between protecting her heart and giving in to her curiosity.

“Yes,” she said finally, her voice quiet but steady.

Lucanis half-smiled, standing as he offered his hand. She took it, and together they walked to the balcony overlooking the canal. The soft light reflected off the water below, casting shimmering patterns onto the stone railing.

He leaned against the cool stone, his hand still firmly holding hers.

“So… I said yes, and now we’re looking at…” Rook began, her voice tinged with nervous humor.

“For the love of the Maker, Rook,” Lucanis interrupted, turning to face her fully. “Shut up and let me kiss you. Just stop… talking.”

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, his mouth brushing against hers in a soft, deliberate kiss. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, and Rook melted into him, her heart racing.

He was a good kisser.

Cliché as it was, she slowed time around them with a spell, savoring the moment as the rest of the world blurred into nothing.

Lucanis smiled against her lips, not breaking the kiss, his voice low and warm. “I know what you’re doing, Rook,” he murmured, his lips still grazing hers.

And she didn’t care.

#lucanis x rook #lucanis dellamorte #rook #davrin #neve gallus #taash #lace harding #dragon age the veilguard #assan the griffon #keely de riva #rookanis #fluff #angst #dragon age #rookanisfanfic

176 notes · View notes

mywritersmind · 3 days ago

Text

DOOMED FOR ONE ANOTHER - LN4

summary : Forced to never forget. He loved her, she loved him. It seemed easy but the moment those words met the cool air, everything changed. They had the type of love that wasn’t in story books about romance, it was the type that was in horror stories.

listen up : crazy moody today ig. hope u like bc it’s actually interesting and deep for once. dual pov!!

word count : 2040

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The first time they met, he saw her sitting at the bar.

She was alone, in a cocktail dress with her legs crossed, sipping on a martini. There was a faux fur coat hanging over her chair. She wasn’t on her phone, or listening to music, she was just sitting with the world around her.

Lando Norris was well acquainted with the female species. He’s met pretty woman, he’s dated pretty women, he’s fucked pretty women.

She wasn’t just a pretty woman.

“I’m Lando.” She didn’t shake his hand, didn’t smile or giggle… she just nodded.

“I know who you are.” She brought the martini to her lips again and Lando felt his mouth open a bit, “Do you know who I am?”

He slipped into the seat next to her, “No. Should I?”

Then it happened, the corners of her perfectly lush lips tugged upward. “Nope.”

And thus started a beautiful friendship. Yes, I say friendship because neither of them expected to fall in love with each other. Even if everyone seemed to hope they would.

⋆༺

Her apartment was a mess like usual. I pushed open the door with two coffees in my hand, house keys, and the purse she made me bring all the way from Monaco to New York.

I managed to get to her room without stepping on any of her loose clothes, books, or instruments. She was lying on her bed, her head hanging off the side and her hands lazily strumming her guitar.

She was wearing a pink nightgown that scrunched up on her thighs, a faux fur coat, and headphones. Her head finally tilted back far enough to see me standing there, staring at her.

I used to worry about her a lot because of her reaction time and how she never realized I was staring. Yet I stopped thinking about it after it allowed me to watch her before we would hang out.

That sounds creepy, I know. But just like the first time I met her, I could get a read on her body language or emotions, I would look at her outfit and how much jewelry she would be wearing, I would just look at her for one quiet moment.

“Lan!” She screamed far too loud and stood up at lightning speed, hugging me. “My angel, you’re back!” She grabbed the coffee she knew was hers from my hands and spun around, hopping back onto her bed and sitting on her feet.

I pushed the clothes off her chair and sat on it, “Someone came up to me and asked if I was your friend today.”

I rolled my eyes and sipped my coffee, “One day, we’re going to be walking around and people will swarm around you and ask who the idiot next to you is.”

She sighed, sipping her coffee, “And I’d tell them that if they’re true fans, they’d know who my best friend is.” She leaned back on her pillows and stuffed animals.

“Right!” I let out a laugh, “You would definitely say I'm some freak following you.”

Her eyes got serious for a second, “I’d never pretend to not know you, Lando.”

I shook my head, “How’s the writing coming along?”

“If you’ve come here just to bug me about my music, then I will kick you back onto the streets.” She’s a musician.

I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t know her… but she had just put out her debut album and I had just officially become an F1 driver.

She claimed she wasn’t a fan of the sport, yet would text me non stop about ‘gossip’ she heard from her ‘credible’ sources. Her sources were F1 twitter.

She let me listen to her music, humming along to the songs without lyrics and singing without any instrument to the songs without background music.

I don’t remember when I fell in love with her. It wasn’t a specific time or place, I just sort of knew one day.

⋆༺

I always loved him in a suit.

I liked his hair and the way the curls just fit with something so neat and tailored to him. Lando looked bored, an expression I didn’t see on his face a lot when he was with me.

But that day and that banquet… it was so slow and I was so off my usual game. I had secrets and Lando could tell. I thought he was going to confront me about them when he brought me outside.

“Lan, there’s a speaker!” I whispered to him as he took my hand.

“When have you ever cared about shit like that? Come on.” His hand was cold, I remember that. I actually remember everything from that night.

We slipped out the back door and he started laughing. I didn’t know why, but I also didn’t ask a lot of questions.

The banquet was in a stuffy hall, but the back garden was beautiful and miles long. I laughed with him, hurrying down the steps as fast as I could in my heels.

He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. “I couldn’t breathe in there.” He runs a hand through his curls, tilting his head back so his Adam's apple is more pronounced and his eyes are looking to the sky.

“Wanna get out of here?” I asked because I was getting cold and could tell he needed a change of scenery.

That’s when I noticed a difference. The way he looked at me just then, it was like everything I had dreaded came true in one singular moment. “No.” He had said it quietly but I felt like he had a megaphone. “I need to talk to you.”

“Lando…” I said his full name that time because I wanted him to know that for once in my life, I was being serious. I was warning him.

“I love you.” He was breathless and I'll never forget the look on his face. It was almost as heartbreaking as the look he gave me five seconds later, when I didn’t respond.

I loved him, of course I had.

But I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for a relationship or for him. I wasn’t ready for everything to change or for him to suddenly start kissing me instead of hugging.

I wasn’t ready to be loved.

“Please…” He was holding my hands now, “I can’t not love you. I know you love me too.” That made me feel nauseous.

How could he know?

I kept everything close to me and had never tried to kiss him, I never even joked about it!

“I can’t…” Is all I said before pulling my hands away.

His face turned sullen, his arms limp at his sides, “You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not!” I didn’t mean to say it as defensively as I did.

“Bullshit.” Lando never raised his voice at me, but he did then.

“You don’t get to tell me my feelings!” I stepped farther away, ignoring every instinct to get closer.

His eyes were piercing me, “Tell me you don’t then.”

I was shaking my head as he begged, “Tell me you don’t love me! Say it to my face.” I couldn’t say anything, and he knew me too well because of it. “Break my heart, then. Do it.”

“Lan…”

“Don’t ‘Lan’ me!” He stepped closer, his hands going to my arms again, “Fucking break me or never talk to me again! I can’t pretend I don’t love you and I know you can’t stay friends with me when you know that I do.”

His voice broke and my tears started. Lando Norris knew every part of me. He watched my facial expressions, my body language. He watched me get dressed and he watched me break a million guys' hearts.

He watched me loudly do what I love but that was always music, and never him.

That’s why I had to walk away. It’s why I couldn’t admit loving him. It’s why I cut all contact, It’s why I hated myself. It’s why I pretended I didn’t know him, even though he haunted everything in my life.

⋆༺

I love my friends. But I think I'd rather be anywhere but here right now.

Carlos forced me to come to his girlfriend's party. Rebecca is nice and all but as I watch Franco get surrounded by models and Charles whispering in Alexandra’s ear, I’m seriously regretting saying yes.

I’m in a suit and zoning out with champagne in my hand, leaning against the bar as the noise around me gets louder.

“Lando!” I already know it’s Carlos, glancing back to see him hurrying over to me, “Lando!”

“What?” I ask, tired and wishing I was more drunk.

“Rebecca has a girl for you!” my immediate instinct is to run but he slaps his hand onto my shoulder and grips it tightly, “Hey! You’ll love her! She’s a musician and very pretty!”

I groan, “Carlos, no.”

“Mate, come on! You never date and I think you’ll actually love her!” He’s right. I don’t date. I have sex, I hook up, I have benefits but no friends. “It’ll be good for you.” And for a second, I believe him.

Maybe it would be good for me. It’s been over a year since my heart was ripped apart and stomped on by a type b, adhd, singer.

“Just meet her.” He says and I hesitate before shrugging, “Yes! Oh, here they come!”

I stand up straight and sip my champagne, hoping the alcohol will hit me fast. The moment I turn, The moment Rebecca smiles and starts to speak, I can’t breathe.

“Lando this is-” I don’t need to keep listening to know. She’s right there. In front of me.

The girl who ripped my heart out is right there, wearing the same shoes she stomped on it with. I’m not prepared for this, for her. Her face tells me she feels the same way but is far more calm than I am.

When she holds out her hand for me to shake, I feel sick. I shake it, not saying anything. She looks the same… but different.

Her hair is longer and her makeup is done differently. She’s wearing barely any jewelry but I can smell her perfume and I just know it’s the same one I got for her at some corner stone in brooklyn.

“It’s really nice to meet you.” She sounds strong. She sounds like she’s lying, but maybe that’s because she is.

“I wish I could say the same about you.” No one else would be able to tell, but after years of examining her, I don’t miss the way her mouth quirks. I say it because I would never pretend to not know her, no matter how hard it was to make eye contact with her today.

I know Carlos is horrified, “Norris!”

But I don’t care.

For once, I didn’t see her coming. I didn’t get to have that moment of peace where I could revel in her.

I avoided her, mostly. We never ran in the same circle… except for now, I guess… but I saw friends of friends posting about her concerts or new music. I saw her on Dominic Fikes album and I saw her kissing his cheek two days after that.

I heard the rumors and the second that one of the guys called her pretty, I clocked out.

I never saw her in person though. I would be paranoid every time I was at a music festival or even saw someone wearing close to the same faux fur jackets she adored. But I haven’t seen her for over a year, until now.

Rebecca looks uncomfortable and Carlos looks straight up scared. I’m lucky that they get pulled away but I'm unlucky that she gets closer to me. She used to tease me the same way she’s looking at me now.

I expect her to say something profound, maybe even an apology. But then I remember who she is. That Cheshire-like smile greets her lips again as her thick lashes blink, “I’ve always loved you in a suit.”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris x singer reader #lando norris angst

173 notes · View notes

ifonlyyuweremine · 9 hours ago

Text

Captain’s Girl [Part II]

John Price x Reader (Call of Duty)

Synopsis: Mixed tension combined with a failed mission leads to a heated kiss between you and the Captain. But what happens when kissing turns into something more? And will a new mission back in Urzikstan be the catalyst to bring you together or tear you and your captain apart?

Tags: Enemies to lovers, SMUT, guys I'm not joking I went crazy with the smut, military romance, secret feelings, pining, idiots in love, fighting, secret relationships, consequences, LONG.

Word count? Do you even need to ask?

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

The helicopter ride back was abysmal, a whole 3 hours spent in absolute silence. You'd spent the majority of the time staring at your fraying shoelace. The subtle rocking of the aircraft kept you awake while everyone else slept off the rough morning (and the hangover). It turns out that drinking the night before being dispatched wasn't the best idea. Shocking.

It didn't help that your mind was still hung up on the kiss between you and Price. Also shocking.

In the past 24 hours, you discovered that there was a widespread rumor that you and your captain had been sleeping together. Everyone on base had started calling you the Captain’s Girl. And that Price didn't apparently hate you and thought that planting one on you was the best way to prove that.

Why he kissed you was an entirely new can of worms you didn't have the stomach to open right now.

Now, did you kiss him back? Yes. Why? You didn't know the fuck why. There were several possible answers to this dilemma, answer one, it was the heat of the moment. Answer two, it just felt right to do so, it's rude to leave a guy hanging. Answer three, you were just too shit-faced to think critically about it. You were leaning toward the last one.

The worst part of the whole situation, (besides the fact that you may have given those rumors a tiny bit of validity) was that Price was a phenomenal kisser. You remembered it in excruciating detail. And unlucky for you it might have been one of the best kisses you'd ever had.

A small part of you wondered if he enjoyed it too, but given his face when you separated. All flushed and surprised, his eyes wide with horror and his breath heavy… yeah maybe it was best not to dwell on your kissing abilities.

It was a small blessing that Gaz had been the one to almost catch you in the act. He loved to tease but he wasn't an asshole, your and Price's secret was most likely in good hands. Heaven forbid it was Ghost or Soap because you would've had half a mind to jump out of the helicopter without a second thought. The thought was still tempting though.

You glanced up at Price, his head tilted back and his eyes shut. He wasn't faring much better than you were. He had heavy bags under his eyes and the line between his brows was far more defined than usual. Somehow he still looked good. In a very professional way, of course. Not in a ‘we made out last night, and thinking about it turns me on,’ kind of way.

Eventually, you would have to interact with him professionally again. When his foot healed it would be back to regularly scheduled training.

Best case scenario, they'd put you all on leave and you could have a week or two surrounding yourself with other men to clear your head. You'd never really been one for an extended vacation, but exceptions could be made. Plus, going back to base meant going back to a whole bunch of people who thought you were bangin’ the boss.

You grimaced, vacationing in hell might have been better. On second thought, you'd take the checkpoint base any day. Home base could go fuck itself, at least it was hot and sunny back in Urzikstan. You heard someone chuckle and looked up to see Ghost looking at you.

“Ya’ look like you swallowed a lemon.” He said enthused. You made a sound that crossed between a sigh and a grunt.

“Just preparing myself for landing,” You breathed as the helicopter wobbled. The aircraft began to descend in a linear motion, making your stomach sink a little.

“Home sweet home.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

One week and three days, you had been back at base for almost two weeks without speaking a single word to Price. Maybe if you kept this up you could spend your last 8 months with 141 in peace.

Your days now had been mostly consisting of training (supervised by Ghost instead of Price), mindless tasks, eating in the commons, watching movies in the break room, and naps. It was kind of perfect, this was probably the most relaxed you'd ever been while at base. And nobody bothered to tease you over Price since he was rarely around. When he did make an appearance he didn't speak a word to you, which was somewhat nice.

A part of you wished for some explanation for the night of the kiss, but maybe ignorance was bliss. Whatever the reason, it was all behind you. You could totally remain professional when he comes back from recovery. Totally.

Gaz tried to talk to you about that night once, to which you immediately shut him down. Though, you knew he saw through you, and Price too, it was probably easier reading Price than you at this point. It was odd for Price to seclude himself away, even odder that he wasn't on speaking terms with you conveniently after the night that you tracked him down and blew up at him for starting a rumor that he most definitely did not create. Ghost had caught onto the odd tension between you two almost as fast as Gaz did.

Jhonny well… he was still in his own world, the man was smart sure, but he was a bit of a dunce when it came to reading other people's emotions. On the bright side that made him the perfect buddy to be around because he wasn't analyzing every interaction you had. You were grateful for him in his own way.

You were walking down one of the hallways after a bit of a loose end. Having nothing to do after training was a pain sometimes, you had an hour or two until dinner, and the base gym was at its busiest. And you didn't feel like you were in the mood to wait twenty minutes in a sweaty gym for a turn on the leg press machine. So, you opted for wandering around like a lost spirit in search of something to do instead.

Just as you turned a corner you collided with what felt like another wall. Your eyes met a 4x4 truck with a skull mask. Ghost.

“Easy, aren't sharpshooters supposed to be vigilant? Or are you the only exception?” His voice reverberated off your eardrums like a low-pitch bass. You rolled your eyes but let out an amused breath of air. To give the big guy some credit his name fits him perfectly, you didn't know how someone who was built like a standard Lego brick could be so stealthy. He could fit into any dark corner and nobody would be the wiser.

“Just you Ghost, you seem to be the only entity that evades me.” That seemed to pull a junction of his lips up because the corners of his eyes slightly crinkled. He held a small file filled with a few articles of paper tucked away into its folds.

Ghost crossed his arms, “What ya’ doin’? Have you taken up wandering hallways as a hobby now?”

You grimaced, “Gym was all full, didn't want to bother.” You said plainly, earning a nod from the bigger man.

“So… suppose that means you're free for time?” There was a slight smugness to his tone as he held the file up to you. Your gaze dropped from him to the file, he didn't phrase it like an order but you knew it was. You sighed and took the file from his hand. “Fine. Who do I have to track down to give this to?”

He shifted on one foot, “Price. You know where his office is.” You tried not to let your mouth fall open, this bastard.

You shook your head and tried to thrust the papers back into his chest, “What? No, I'm not giving these to Price. Can't you find someone else?”

Ghost stepped back and shook his head, raising his hands up in surrender. “Nope, s’outta my hands now. It’s one file, just knock on his door and drop it on his desk, easy.” You shot him a spiteful glare, there was probably an evil grin under that stupid mask.

You squeezed the file in your hands tighter, feeling the paper wrinkle in your vice grip. “Bastard.” You grimaced, turning on your heel towards the direction of Price's office. You heard him chuckle over your shoulder, “Good soldier.” He called after you, the shit-eating grin practically spotlighted through his tone.

Trudging through the familiar hallways toward Price's office was like walking through a dead-end alleyway. The further you got, the more signs you saw telling you to turn back. Sure you saw him after the night of the kiss, but you weren't being forced to talk to him or even acknowledge he was there. This was different, you would be alone with him. Alone in his office. Even if it was for a split second that you were in his presence the knowledge still made your skin pebble with goosebumps.

Before you knew it, you were facing the dreaded door of his office. The sight of the familiar plaque of his name gives you an almost Deja Vu feeling. The last time you were here things didn't go over too well, not that things ever really went great when the two of you came in contact.

You drew in a breath, just get this over with and you could be done. Maybe go take a shower or something, just go anywhere that was a good distance away from here. Your fist met the hardwood of the door, giving it a hearty few knocks. After a beat, his muffled voice reached your ears, “Come in.”

Pushing open the door you were greeted with the sight of Price. Doing pushups in the corner of his office. Okay, I guess. You were a little dumbfounded, usually one uses an office for things like paperwork or meetings. Not a personal gym. “I thought the point of recovering was that you're supposed to be resting.” You deadpanned. The file in your hands long forgotten.

His head immediately snapped up at the sound of your voice, pools of blue staring right into you like you'd walked in naked. Price halted mid-pushup, “[Name].” He breathed, obviously caught a little off guard by your appearance.

“Unfortunately,” You said back, watching as he got up and brushed himself off. The cotton of his shirt stretched over the expanse of his biceps and chest. Your eyes shot back to his face, a little guilty. Price cleared his throat, “They won't let me train in the gym yet. So, I have to improvise.”

You blinked at him, “Base doctor must love you.” You said sarcastically, glancing down at his foot. “How's your foot?” You asked politely, filling the awkward silence.

Price looked down at his wrapped foot, shrugging. “It's better. Don't need the crutch anymore.” He said plainly. You responded with a nod and an ‘ah,’ creating an even longer awkward silence. The two of you stood there for another beat, just looking at each other. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to run to him or run away from him. Just then you remembered the whole reason why you were here.

“Oh- uh, I have this for you-“ You held out the manilla file for him to take, “Ghost told me to bring it up here.” Price's eyes darted from the folder and then back to you, he hesitantly walked closer and took the file. His fingers brushed yours and you swear an electric current shot through your spine. His fingers were warm and rough, transporting you back to when his hands were in your hair, holding your face, cupping the back of your neck.

You swallowed, it felt like your heartbeat was in your head. “Thank you.” He said, pulling back his hand and the papers with it.

It was like someone had knocked the wind out of you, you were frozen. “…Right, I'll go then.” You said, taking a step back from him as he put the file on top of his desk.

“[Name]. Hold on, please.” His voice stopped you in your tracks, making you rotate a little to face him completely. His voice didn't sound angry, but it was firm. “Everything alright?” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, watching as he faced you. Leaning against his desk with his arms crossed.

His adams apple bobbed up and down, lifting a hand to rub his mutton chops. “Yeah…I just wanted to clear up something with you.” His voice was careful, the pauses and hesitance filling you with dread. Shit. He wanted to talk about the kiss, which you most definitely did not want to talk about. A part of you was dying inside but you nodded, “Yeah, what's up?” You said through clenched teeth.

“About what happened the night before the team left Urzikstan, I just wanted to… apologize. It was unprofessional of me especially considering the circumstances.” You stood statue still, well this was a first. He was apologizing to you. Price continued, “It was a moment of weakness and emotions were running high and frankly I didn't know how else to show you I didn't hate you. I give you my word that it will never happen again.”

A moment of weakness? What the hell was that even supposed to mean? It was nice to hear an apology come from him but to be honest, you weren't sure if you were happy about the fact he was sorry. Maybe that meant he didn't enjoy it, but it certainly didn't seem like it when his tongue was down your throat. Well, if you were already on the subject mind as well ask.

“Did you hate it?” You asked, Price looked at you for a moment. His face was puzzled like it was the last thing he had expected to come out of your mouth. “What?” He asked, his voice thick behind his British accent.

You stood your ground, “The kiss-” you clarified. “Did. you. hate. it?” His eyes searched yours for an ounce of reasoning, “I- it was unprofessional and I shouldn't have initiated anything as your Captain-”

“That wasn't my question.” You cut him off, your eyebrows furrowed together as your gaze bore into him. “I asked if you hated kissing me.”

Price shifted, leaning back a little against his desk. It was silent for a while, the sound of the wall clock and your beating heart was the only noise you could hear. “No… I didn't hate it.” He said after another beat.

A small part of you soared, you could sleep at night knowing your kissing abilities weren't the cause of his skittishness. The next question slipped past your lips before you had the mind to stop yourself. “Do you regret it?”

Again his lips pulled into a frown and his eyes darted away, “[Name], I don't know why these questions are necessary.” But you weren't going to let him deflect you that easy, right now all thoughts of professionalism and integrity were out the window. You deserved an explanation, even if the logical side of your mind was telling you to leave. You stepped closer to him, so he couldn't ignore your presence.

“It's necessary because you kissed me out of nowhere and I deserve an explanation.” You said defiantly, “So do you or do you not regret it?”

He gave you an exasperated look before swallowing his pride. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his pointer and thumb, he spoke, “I regret kissing you at that moment, and how I went about it. But I don't regret kissing you, no.”

Price’s cheeks turned a slightly rosy color that reached his ears. He looked like a guilty dog. You didn't know what surprised you more, the fact that he apologized or that he didn't regret kissing you. But his admission sparked a heat that crawled into your bones, burying into your stomach and coloring your cheeks similarly to his.

“Then just kiss me again.”

What came out of your mouth seemed to surprise you just as much as it did Price. He looked at you like you had grown a second head, “I'm sorry?” You felt your limbs lose feeling, fuck it, if you were going in mind as well go all in.

“I said what I said, if you regret how you went about kissing me last time…make it up now.” The silence that stretched over the two of you lasted for far longer than you were comfortable with. Price shook his head, seemingly coming back to reality. “[Name], I'm not kissing you.” He said pushing off the desk to stand at his full height.

You frowned, well shit. “Why not?” You said, trying not to let the surprise and annoyance bleed through your tone.

He looked at you incredulously, “Because we're in my fucking office and you're my subordinate.” Price said, gesturing around his office to further his argument. Jeez, you really hated this guy. He could at least throw you a bone after pulling a kiss on you out of nowhere.

“So? You kissed me out in the open at the checkpoint base- and I was your subordinate then too.” You knew that he knew you had a good point there, “If you don't want to kiss me or something you could've just said so.” You glared.

Price groaned and shook his head, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck. “No- I- fuck, of course I want to kiss you. But it's not appropriate, there are fraternization rules. Especially when it comes to me as your Captain.”

Aha! So he did want to kiss you, that at least was one more mystery solved. You craned your neck up to meet his eyes, your hands seizing his face. Cupping his scruffy cheeks between your palms. “Rules only apply if you get caught. And you owe me a better apology.” You told him sternly.

Price’s eyes were wide and his body tensed for a moment. Only to relax a moment later, the heat of his face could burn your skin. Your hands tingled as the pads of your fingers slid against the coarse scuff of his beard. His face hid something behind the mask of surprise, something that glinted in the pools of navy and grey. Everything about him looked so odd, so real.

Back at the checkpoint base, you didn't have time to look over his features or memorize them. You weren't able to watch the flicker in his eyes, something akin to a stalking wolf.

“One kiss.” Price breathed.

“One kiss.” You repeated back to him, trying not to let your voice quake.

That was all it took before his lips were slotted against yours, swallowing your breath and your mind with it. The kiss back at Urzikstan was rushed, desperate, quick. This. This was different. It was like a switch in your brain was flipped off, the mind-numbing static and the gentle rhythm of his lips replaced where your rational thought was supposed to be.

Large hands seized your waist, digging into your flesh. Slowly, the gentle probes of his mouth morphed into heavy kisses and heated groans. His mouth tasted the same as it did before, like smoke and whiskey. You doubted you'd ever forget the taste of him.

Your hands slid around his neck, and your dull nails dragged down his nape. Earning a throaty moan on his part, with each lick, groan, and movement of his lips, you only seemed to get sucked in further. Your senses were drowning in him, yet you only ached to go deeper. To let the water fill your lungs and cloud your brain.

Lips, tongue, teeth, you didn't know where it ended nor where it started. Hell, you didn't know what you were even doing. You didn't even realize you had moved until your behind hit the solid edge of his desk, making you retract for a sharp breath.

Price panted against your lips, still slick and kiss swollen. Neither of you did anything, standing still in the aftermath. The kiss said more than either of you could have ever put into words. Hands squeezed your hips, “On the desk.”

You blinked, only somewhat coherent, “What?” Price lightly pushed you further, the back of your body being pressed against the hardwood. “You heard me, sit on the desk.” His voice was rough and thick with his accent. It wasn't more of a request but a demand, and unlucky for you it made your knees weak.

Carefully you lifted yourself onto the flat surface, his body wedged between your open legs. The rough pads of his fingers grasping at your hips, and before you knew it you were kissing him again. It was addictive, he was addictive. This felt more like your fist kiss with him, the kisses became rougher, more rushed, and more desperate. Like trying to fill an endless void with his lips.

“I thought you said one kiss,” You managed to gasp out between open-mouthed kisses. You felt the pull of a smile on the corner of his lips before separating from you only to attach to your neck. Suckling at the skin and leaving trails of blooming redness in his wake.

“You said you wanted a better apology right?” Price said, his voice vibrating against your collar. The texture of his beard against your skin sending full-body shivers down your spine.

You nodded, your hands reaching to his back to fist the material of his shirt. “Yeah.” Your voice was breathy, it sounded almost foreign to you. Like you hadn't even spoken it. Hands dipped under your shirt, running up the soft skin of your ribs, mapping out your body. Price looked at you, something in his eyes was desperate, like a wild animal looking at their next meal.

“Then let me make it up to you. Please.” Fuck.

When had a man ever said that to you? And not any man but John fucking Price. A pulse drummed in your stomach that reached your core, here you were, sitting on your captain's desk with him in between your legs. Asking you to let him make it up to you. Really…who were you to refuse when he asked so nicely? You swallowed and nodded, “Okay.”

With your confirmation, Price lifted your shirt above your head, hastily tossing it somewhere on the floor. His hands making quick work of your bra with it, the offending garment joining your shirt on the floor. He stood there momentarily, taking in the new expanse of revealed skin. Price’s calloused hands glided over your abdomen, cupping your breasts and brushing a thumb over the hardened nipple.

You hissed, your spine curving at his touch. Price’s hands were hard and warm, a stark contrast to the plush mound of your chest. “Fuck, you're a vision you know that? So fucking pretty.” He breathed, his comments adding fuel to the fire between your legs. You couldn't remember the last time a man had called you anything near a ‘vision,’ but damn it felt good. It felt good to be wanted.

Your thighs squeezed together, blocked by his frame standing between them. Every movement he made caused your hips to brush, sending shocks up your spine. And shit could you feel him, he was a large man but the size of the tent brushing against your clothed core was downright ridiculous. No wonder his ego was so big, you absentmindedly thought.

A finger hooked one of the loops of your standard-issue pants. Price was looking at you, “Can I…?” He motioned down asking permission to discard the rest. To which you nodded, trying to hold back your eagerness. “Yeah go ahead.”

Price helped you out from your pants, letting them drop to the floor with a dull thud. He groaned as he caught eye of your underwear—a very embarrassing and very obvious wet spot coating the fabric. Fuck-you didn't realize that was there. You'd been so caught up in his hands you'd barely felt it. He shot you a knowing look, the corner of his lip twitched up.

“All this cause of me?” He asked smugly, circling a digit over the sodden fabric. You twitched, the contact making you bite down on your lip to keep from making a startled noise.

You glared at him, “Don’t fucking tease me.” You said, the embarrassment in your tone disguised as venom. He grinned, prick’ you thought. Price guided a finger over your clothed slit, leaning into the crook of your neck. “Never baby, just want to make things right with you.” He murmured into your skin.

Price tugged the fabric to the side, letting your slick lubricate his fingers. You shuddered, your hands holding onto him for dear life. “Fuck-” You choked out, your hips leaning into his hand. It felt infuriatingly good, the way his digit glided up and down your labia at a leisurely slow pace making you fein for more. He groaned as he watched you moan from the way he brushed his thumb over your clit.

“Atta girl, so good f’me.”

Oh.

You liked that. You'd never really paid attention to the gratification of someone praising you outside of an academic or professional level but at that moment you could tell that did something for you. And Price seemed to notice too.

He gently prodded at your entrance, earning a whine from your lips. “One finger or two?” He muttered, you could barely think let alone answer his question. What you did know was that you need more, “Two.” You said breathlessly.

A light chuckle reverberated off of him, “Greedy girl.” Price didn't wait and plunged two fingers into you slowly. You threw your head back as his thick digits stretched open the gummy walls of your core. “Fuck, look at you. So wet for me, so fucking sexy like this you know that?” You could only manage another choked whine as he mimicked the ‘come here’ motion with his fingers.

It was euphoric, the way he filled out your walls with his fingers alone. Slowly pressing the pads of his middle and ring up against the spongy spot inside you. You dug your nails into his shoulder, a silent scream fell from your lips. Price’s other hand holding the small of your back to support you. “Stay still,” He whispered into the shell of your ear, making you shudder.

You didn't listen, how could you? You could barely focus on what he was saying as it was, let alone when he was knuckle deep inside you.

When Price noticed you weren't listening he retracted his fingers, leaving you hollow. You whined, already craving the stretch of his fingers again. He rested his palm against your cunt, his digits barely tracing over your entrance. “Come on, I know you can listen, stay still for me yeah?” His voice vibrated against your neck and his beard brushed over the exposed skin. Making your body prickle with goosebumps.

“You're an asshole you know that?” You panted, going rigidly still. He smiled against you, his fingers plunging back into your wet heat. “And you're all bark and no bite, fuckin’ vixen. Always looking at me when you know you shouldn't, driving me insane all the time. Stubborn girl.”

You threw your head back, trying hard not to let your hips twitch or jerk. Your mouth fell open to let out a lustful moan that would've made anyone in the near vicinity blush.

Price continued, “You like driving me mad? Never fucking listening to me, arguing with me, riling me up.” He muttered, sliding his fingers in and out at a brutal pace. Making your cunt flutter, producing the most obscene sounds you ever heard from yourself. “Then you come in here all sexy asking me to kiss you. It's like you wanted this, wanted my fingers.”

You felt the burning fire in your core tighten and roar, “Price- slow down. M’gonna cum if you keep going.” You babbled, your nails leaving crescents on his bicep. Everything was happening so fast you couldn't keep track of what was going on.

Price’s fingers were rough, thick, they filled out the lining of your walls with ease. A thick fog started to cloud your mind, making the world almost blur. In. Out. In. Out. It was maddening, he wasn’t slowing and you were only growing more feverish.

He shook his head, his other hand leaving your hip to grab your chin. Forcing you to look into his eyes, an animalistic hunger written over his face. “No, you're going to cum on my fingers. Look at me while you do it, look at me while you soak my hand.” Price’s thumb circled over your clit, making you clench and pulse. A full-body shudder racking through you.

You came suddenly, unexpectedly. It was hard and fast, but in a way, it was like you were floating. Your muscles went rigid, your back curving, and your startled moan bounced off the walls of the office. It came in waves, crashing over you like the tide as he finger-fucked you through the orgasm. All the while staring directly into those familiar pools of blue and navy. Your pussy spasmed around his fingers.

After a minute you fell limp, like you'd just run miles, you panted. Hair falling in your face and wetness coating both his fingers and your inner thighs, the juices pooling onto the dark wood of the table. Price held your waist with one hand, letting you slump against his chest. It was peaceful bliss for a moment.

You caught your breath enough to sit up, meeting his gaze. His hand that held your waist moved to brush a few stray hairs falling over your eyes. The corners of Price’s lips pulled into a smile, and your heart stuttered, only a little though. “Have I made it up to you yet?” He murmured, the thickness of his voice could have melted your ears. Smooth like syrup but rugged enough to be devastatingly masculine.

“Apology accepted.” You breathed, trying not to sound too winded. It was too late to form any semblance of decency so the next best option was pretending he didn't single-handily give you the most toe-curling orgasm of your life. Easier said than done.

Price detached from you, walking over to one of his office drawers and pulling out a box of tissues. “Normally I'd have something better to clean you up with but these will do for now.” He said casually, pulling a few from the box and coaxing your legs back open to wipe down the mess. Somehow, you felt a blush spread across your cheeks.

This was so...domestic, sweet even, it wasn't like him. Then again, fingering you on his desk wasn't like him either but here you were. You both had crossed a line and there wasn't any going back, you swallowed. “Thanks, but uhm…what do we do now?” Frankly, it was a dumb question but you couldn't help asking.

He gave you a look, “What do you mean?” You squirmed under his gaze, trying not to look down at his warm hand brushing up against your inner thigh.

“Well, we can't exactly pretend like this didn't happen.” You clarified, watching as the wheels in his head turned. Price shrugged, “We can leave it at this if that's what you want. I think both of us are just on edge, y’know, the heat of the moment.”

Somehow his words didn't match his face, there was more that seemed to bellow beneath his tone. But rather than bringing it up, you thought about his words. This wasn't ever something you anticipated to happen but to your surprise, you didn't hate it. “What if we just kept it going?”

Price looked at you, his eyes widened a tad, the surprise written across his face doing more for your nerves than you were comfortable with. “Like- in the sense that you and I both have a lot of built-up tension and unresolved issues. But if this works to keep the peace why not give it a try? Discreetly of course.”

It was a beat before he responded, “Alright, but like you said, discreet. If anyone catches on this is done.”

You soared, why? You didn't know, it just felt like the best news you'd gotten in forever. But looking too deeply into that feeling was uncharted territory. Better off leaving it in the corner of your brain with all the other repressed emotions.

“Works for me.” You agreed, Price got up again to grab your poor clothes that had been flung across the room. Handing them back gingerly, he was nice enough to turn around as you reclothed yourself. There was a slight charge to the air, almost like static. It pricked at your skin, making you jumpy and nearly insecure. It was like you had reverted to a teenage girl.

He caught your gaze, and the unspoken tension and lingering awkwardness faded just a little. He gave you a nod, “I'll see you tomorrow for drills.”

You smiled just slightly, “See you.” Walking to the door and turning the handle, you forced yourself not to look back at him.

After shutting the door you breathed a sigh, brushing out your clothes and smoothing your hair of the lingering frizz. Getting cozy with your captain was not on your yearly bingo card, but hey, beggars couldn't be choosers. You absentmindedly thought about the implications of technically giving that stupid rumor some validity. But you were only human, a girl has to do what she has to do to get laid.

Discreetly, of course, you were great about being discreet. Yeah, easy peasy. All you had to do was make sure nobody found out.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

At first, you didn't really know what to expect when you first made the arrangement with Price about “solving the unresolved problems between the two of you.” But after a few weeks of working out frustrations ‘on’ each other, you could say with full confidence that this arrangement exceeded your expectations.

Not only had the genuine fights between you been on an extended hiatus, but it started to be replaced with playful banter. And when you weren't bantering or training or hanging out with the group, you were fucking. And boy was it something.

For one, Price was experienced, to say the least, he knew what to do and when to do it. He had mapped out your body and played it like a fiddle. And with your extent of mediocre lovers, it was like a breath of fresh air. And his body was nothing to sneeze at either, he had muscle allll the way down. Battle scars be dammed, everything just seemed to make him more appealing.

The only troubling part of the arrangement was keeping up the ruse and getting creative when it came to the actual action portion of it. But turns out that unconventional areas to have sex weren't as bad as they seemed. Office? Hell yeah. In the medical wing private rooms? Why not. In the showers and bathrooms? You only live once.

Unintentionally getting laid was also fixing your mood. Who knew an orgasm was a great way to fix an attitude problem? Well, at least most of your attitude problems.

You were outside running the trail that weaved its way around the base, at least once or twice a week Price would make you and the team run until you thought you would pass out. Something about endurance training. Running wasn't the worst thing but the harsh trail and uneven ground that zigzagged and dipped made you want to tear your hair out.

Your breath came out in small puffs, the cold air around you doing little to soothe the hot ache of your muscles. Your baby hairs stuck to your forehead and by the looks of it, you still had a few more miles left.

Jhonny ran beside you, his heavy breaths synchronous with yours. Up ahead was Gaz and Price and a few inches behind you was Ghost acting as caboose. You watched them run in front of you like you were studying a Peloton ad. Seriously, how the hell had they barely broken a sweat yet?? It was downright annoying how athletic they were.

“I swear, neither of them are human. Price just got cleared to run a week ago and he looks like he's having the time of his life.” You said between pants, next to you Soap laughed.

“Can’t say I disagree with ya’ there Bonnie, think he just does it for show at this point.” He said, his voice equally hoarse. From behind you, Ghost chimed in, “Maybe if you two stopped talking you'd actually catch up to them by now.”

You shot Ghost a glance over your shoulder, “People in glass houses.” You quipped, considering he was the caboose it was a little ironic. Not by much but still.

Soap grinned, “She’s right ain't she L.T.? Say, how's the arse of the train treating you? Got a nice view?”

Your laugh hurt, the air felt so thin but the pit of your stomach warmed. Talking while running (especially laughing) wasn't the smartest, but it was a distraction. Ghost swatted at the back of Soap’s head, cutting his laugh short.

From up ahead Price turned his head to look at you and Soap. “Two miles left, I’d suggest you save your stamina. If you fall behind on time you run extra.” He deadpanned. His voice barely sounded tired, the nerve.

You grimaced, “I think I’d prefer one of your medieval torture methods than running any longer.” Despite what you thought was an amusing comment Price didn't look enthused.

“That was a nice way of telling you and Jhonny to shut up, am I clear?” He said sternly, you held in your groan. Hookup buddy or not, Price was still annoying. “Clear.” You and Soap said in unison.

The rest of the path was spent in lingering silence. And by the time you reached base, you felt like you had one foot in the grave. You hunched over, your hands on your knees as you took in as many breaths as you could without it hurting. Had the air always been this thin?

Price was a few feet ahead, hands on his hips as he cooled off. His hair was slightly messy and his body glistened with a thin layer of sweat. He reached for his shirt and pulled it up to wipe his face, exposing the hard muscle and his happy trail. Dear lord. You watched him like a hawk, zeroing in on his abs as they expanded and decompressed with each breath.

He glanced your way, you were incredibly obvious so it was no surprise how his eyebrow twitched up and his lips pulled into a wry smile. “I did tell you to save your energy.” He commented quite smugly, referencing your current state.

You snapped out of the trance his abs had put you in, leaning back up and darting your eyes away. “I’m fine, just catching my breath. And for the record that felt way longer than normal, at this point, you just like to watch the team suffer.”

Price chuckled, crossing his arms. “Well someone’s bitter. But look, you did it and you came out fine. It's a win-win.”

You glared at him, unimpressed. “Sure, you work me like a dog until I inevitably die of overexertion and I get a paycheck in the mail that I'll never be able to spend because I'm dead. Win-win.” You said sarcastically. Price's lips tugged up, his mutton chops creating an almost teddy bear-like effect.

The corners of his eyes slightly crinkled, “Maybe you should've taken up drama instead of Military. Might fit you better.”

Your lips pursed into a line, Price was quick witted, but way too full of himself. It was a good thing you were there to keep his ego in line, you liked to think of yourself almost as the balancing act of the team. After all, there could only be so many cooks in the kitchen before things got rocky. “Good thing they don’t pay you for jokes.” You said, finally gaining back your breath.

Just as Price opened his mouth to give what was most likely a poor rebuttal a large hand patted your shoulder.

“[Name], pub tonight yeah?” It was Gaz. His beaming face almost made you squint. You took a minute to process his words, you were rarely one to inhabit the pubs on the outskirts of the base. But a brief memory of him and Jhonny asking you to go from earlier that morning cleared up your memory fog.

You cleared your throat and nodded, “Yeah- wouldn't miss it.” You said through your teeth. Gaz looked forward to Price, “You tagging along Price?”

You looked back at Price too, curious. He stood there a moment before sighing, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I will. Someone's got to keep the lot of ya’ in check.” Your spirit plummeted, the last time you were drunk in front of Price you started cursing at him like a drunken sailor. And you started kissing him in broad…daylight? Nightlight? Whatever. The point was, that you had zero self-control when you drank.

Heck, you barely had any self-control when it came to Price. You were on him any chance you got, and mixing two of your greatest temptations just sounded like a recipe for disaster.

Gaz smiled, ruffling your sweaty hair. “Great! We’ll leave after dinner, Price you're designated driver.” You forced yourself to smile back, giving a weak excuse for an ‘excited’ laugh.

“Great.” You said through your teeth, giving an enthusiastic thumbs up. Price gave him a nod as he walked off towards Soap and Ghost.

“Can’t wait.” You breathed to yourself.

Game plan: Don't drink and avoid Price at all costs. Simple enough. After all, it was just a pub, how bad could it be?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Spoiler Alert: Bad. It could be bad.

In the first thirty minutes of being at the shabby pub, you'd broken your first rule by getting roped into a drinking game with Jhonny. Not the smartest of decisions by far that you made. But it did take off the edge, now the orange lighting and the peeling paint on the walls seemed quaint instead of creepy.

The warmth in your stomach buzzed with a low frequency that made you giddy. And you hadn't paid for any of your drinks courtesy of Jhonny. Things may have been turning out for the better if you stayed on your A game. But unsurprisingly you failed to do so.

You sat on one of the barstools, a classic marg in hand with the salted rim and fancy lime slice on the glass. Ghost was sitting next to you while you both watched Jhonny trying to sweet-talk some poor girl from across the bar. Price sat a few chairs down next to Gaz, wrapped up in a conversation with the old bartender. Slowly, you felt yourself getting cozy.

And you were drunk enough that you merely hummed along with the maroon 5 reruns that played in the background.

“I got fifteen on the girl slappin’ him by the end of the night.” Ghost said as you watched the scene unfold.

You couldn't help but let an unabashed giggle slip from your lips. “Honestly I can't tell if she wants to take him home or take him to the local station for harassment charges.” Ghost grunted in agreement.

The girl gingerly took another sip of her drink as Soap talked to (at) her. Earning another hearty laugh from both You and Ghost. After another minute of people-watching Ghost patted the bar table, fishing a pack from inside of his cargo pocket. “Alright, I’m taking five’ I'll be outside.” He said as he got up.

You frowned but nodded, your gossip buddy was gone which was annoying. But instead of dwelling on it, you took another sip of your marg. The tequila burned your throat in a sickly sweet way, it wasn't the best drink you'd ever had but it did the job. Mid-drink you felt someone else walk up behind you, without warning someone slid into the empty stool next to you.

“This seat taken?” You didn't recognize the voice, it was masculine but it didn't sound like any of the guys. You looked to your side, it was a guy. He looked to be taller, with pale skin, sandy brown hair, and dark eyes. He wasn't about to be on a magazine cover but he definitely wasn't hard to look at.

You didn't quite know what to say, “uh…yeah, I suppose by you.” It was a lame response but he did kinda already sit himself down.

He smiled, white teeth, a little crooked but nobody's perfect. He had a good jaw, not clean-shaven but it made him look a bit more approachable. “That’s good to hear,” he was holding a drink, a gin-and-coke by the looks of it. “I saw you and your friend playing that drinking game earlier, pretty impressive, didn't think you'd be able to keep up.”

You gave a bit of an awkward laugh, unsure of what to make of the situation. But friendly conversation wasn't off the table, and the mystery man seemed nice enough. “Yeah, I guess I did, thanks. You uh- you done anything like that before?”

Mystery man shook his head, “No I can't hold my ale. I prefer to let the professionals handle that.” You laughed, finding the comment a little ridiculous.

“I’d hardly call myself a professional.” You replied, taking another sip of your drink. His eyes dipped down to your lips, watching as you raised the glass to your mouth and swallowed. But, they quickly averted back to your eyes.

“I don't know, I would hardly classify you as intermediate. I would buy you a drink but I'm not sure that much to drink in one night is healthy.” He said smoothly, leaning one elbow against the counter.

Buy you a drink? Okay, maybe a bit too friendly. But maybe he was just being nice, people buy strangers drinks all the time. You nodded, “Oh that's nice of you. Yeah, I'd say after this I’ll call it quits.” You said, raising your marg.

He hummed and nodded, licking his lips. “Hopefully you're not too drunk, right?” Something about his tone you didn't like, it was like he was teasing you.

You averted your eyes, “Uh hopefully not. Just buzzed for now, I’ll probably feel the brunt of it later.” You laughed awkwardly.

“Did you drive here yourself?” Okay, what was with all the questions? You weren't sure if that was a courteous thing to ask or just downright nosy.

You shook your head, “No someone drove me.” You said simply, keeping it short and sweet. Maybe then he'd get the vibes you were putting off. He hummed, his eyes drilling into you like one of those toy lasers.

“Are you going home with anyone?” He asked, you almost choked on your drink. What was with this guy? How did you go from drinking the game two seconds ago to this??

He cut you off before you had the chance to say anything, “Because if not, I’d be willing to drive you back. Free of charge, of course.”

Free of charge my ass.

The actual charge probably consisted of a blow job in the back seat of his Toyota Corolla. Or white van, you were still figuring out the vibes on this guy.

You were stunned to speak, absolutely dumbfounded by the lack of social cues. It was like walking into the shallow end of a pool only to step into eight feet of water. To make it worse he reached forward, brushing a stray piece of hair out of your face. “Come on, don't leave me hanging. What do you say?”

Pound!’

Something hard hit the counter, making both your drinks wobble. You swiveled your head towards the noise, and low and behold your second greatest desire now stood between you and the mystery guy. Price.

His fist on the counter cut the conversation short as well as all the noise around him. Creating an oh-so-silent bar. The mystery man retracted his hand like he'd been scorched by an open flame. Looking up at Price with a bewildered expression, “What the fuck man?” He asked with a furrowed brow.

Price looked down at him, his expression unmoving. “Apologies, but I think it's time you go bother another person. Particularly one that isn't a part of my team.”

Whatever thoughts of arguing that the mystery man had immediately died as Price crossed his arms, puffing himself out like a bird when ruffling its feathers. You looked at both of them incredulously, sure you were glad Price came to the rescue but you could've handled it yourself. You didn't need him to come barreling through like a charging rhino to handle something you didn't even ask him to do.

You looked around to see everyone's heads turned in your direction, looking between Price and the other guy. Suddenly the alcohol in your stomach turned sour, and you felt your cheeks grow hot from the unwanted attention.

“Jeez, look I wasn't looking for any trouble. I didn't know she had a man, my bad.” He said, holding his hands up in surrender. Price didn't budge, guarding you like a stone wall. “Then off you go.” He said sternly.

The mystery guy nodded, sliding out from the barstool and walking past you and back to the table where he came from. The pub started to go back to normal, people picking up where they left off. Price turned back to you, his posture deflating a little. He looked down at you, and from the way you were looking back at him, he immediately knew something was amiss. “What?” He asked.

Your eyebrows slid lower on your face, your lips pursing into a tight frown. “What do you mean ‘what?’ What the fuck was that?” You whisper shouted at him, your cheeks still burning with embarrassment.

Price looked at you like you were crazy, a frown on his lips. “The bloke was touching you, you think I'm just going to stand by and let him paw at you?” He asked defensively.

Oh please. He barely even touched your face. It wasn’t great, but, it didn’t warrant Price making a whole spectacle. Especially not in front of the team, let alone a group of spectators. You looked back at Gaz, who was staring directly at you, then at Jhonny, who went back to talking to the girl.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” You signed, not wanting to be in earshot of Gaz who was most definitely eavesdropping. Friend or not, he couldn't know any more than he already did, the bastard was perceptive enough as it was.

Price glanced at Gaz and then back to you, his jaw working with tension. “Fine.” He huffed, you were a bit taken aback by the irritability in his tone. Why was he so mad now? He was the one who caused the scene. Nonetheless, you slipped out of the bar and followed Price as he stormed off.

You weaved through tables and people, trying your best to squeeze by without knocking into anything. Price walked into an emptier hallway that led to the restrooms. It was one of those creepy hallways with no overhead lights and weird pictures strung across the walls. You eyed the peeling wallpaper, it was like you'd stepped into a time capsule. Warm light poured from the main area of the bar, casting an orange hue against you and Price that was cut off by shadows.

He turned back to you, the furrow in his brow knitting the skin in between. He looked sexy. The thought popped into your mind before you had the sense to block it out. While very true you had to stand your ground. A hot man and some liquor in your system would not sway your resolve. (Maybe it could sway it a little.) focus!

“What was that? You charging up to that guy and slamming your fist on the counter.” You asked folding your arms over your chest.

Price leaned against the opposite wall, facing you. “I didn't charge up to him, I simply made it clear that he crossed a line.” He said defiantly. You raised a brow, unsure of what to make of the blanket statement.

“What line?” You asked, to which Price scoffed.

“He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, and don't think I didn't hear the way he was interrogating you. Come off it [Name], I know you're not stupid, you could see clear as I could what that fucker wanted.” He spat.

You exhaled, either the liquor was catching up to you or it was starting to get hot. “Well yeah, but he barely did anything, and that hardly warranted you taking matters into your own hands.” You defended, “-I could have just told him to fuck off or something. I didn't need you charging in like a bull and letting the entire bar know.”

You watched Price’s hand bawl into a fist, flexing the strain in his neck as he glared down at you. “What else was I supposed to do? Politely ask him to leave? When he's got his dirty hands on you like that-” He groaned, wiping his face with one hand.

“I'm not defenseless, I don't need you to rescue me.” You retorted, your hands holding your arms tighter to your chest.

Price rolled his eyes, “I know that. Don’t get smart with me.” He said pointing a finger your way, his mouth curling into a small snarl. “You don't get it, watching him practically undressing you with his eyes. It was fucking aggravating to watch- the way he looked at you.”

You were a bit surprised that he caught on to that, but you didn't feel like he was undressing you with his eyes per se. More like just intently staring, you pushed his accusatory finger down. “You're exaggerating, and you don't even know what he was thinking.” You tried to reason.

Price looked at you with a glare that would’ve made anyone else back down. But you didn't, as Jhonny once commented, you had the rather: “Fucking idiotic tendency to never be scared of Price.” What could you say? You liked a challenge.

He took a step forward, making you take one back. Your back hit the wall of the hallway. Like a caged animal, you were trapped. “I know exactly what he's thinking.” Price snarled, he grabbed your face. The rough pads of his fingers pressed into your hollow cheeks, his hand was so big it dwarfed your lower jaw.

“-Because I fucking think of the exact same things when I look at you.” His voice was harsh and low, sending ripples through your spine like shock waves. Price’s hand forced your face up so it was locked dead onto his, making you look into his eyes shadowed by the darkness. Flecks of light caught on his face, against his beard and jaw. If anyone were to walk into the hallway, it may have looked like Price was about to devour you like a starving carnivore.

You shuddered, he was so close it was driving your senses crazy. You could smell him, taste the venom in his voice, and God did it turn you on. You wanted more, you wanted to push his buttons. It felt good to drive him to the point of fury, to watch him slowly lose his composure. Years of hard discipline and mental strength all crumbling within minutes, and you wanted to watch.

“I don’t care if every man on the planet looks at me that way. I'm not yours, you don't get to put a claim on me. And you sure as hell don't get to make a scene in front of the entire bar and the team.” You spat back. Like an open flame, the wildfire between you and Price only seemed to burn brighter, faster, harder.

“-And what happened to being discrete huh? Last time I checked, scaring off any guy who looks in my direction isn't discrete.” You pried.

Price scowled down at you, his breathing starting to grow more labored. His hand clenched your face more forcefully, not enough to hurt but enough that you couldn't move. “You're right. You don't belong to me, but I am still your Captain, and you answer to me. Not to Gaz, or Jhonny, or Ghost. Not to some stupid prick who just wants a quick fuck. Me.”

Price was slowly getting angrier, to be honest, you rarely saw him this pissed. But deep down, it kind of did something to you. Knowing that you were the cause of his anger.

It was an ache that settled deep within your bones, making your blood coarse red hot. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was something more. Either way, you didn't care, you just needed to feel the satisfaction of breaking his ressolve. Stripping him of every facet that made him a man and revealing the primitive monster that lied underneath.

Your eyes narrowed into slits, “Fuck you Price.”

There was a beat of silence that stretched for far too long. It was so quiet you could almost feel the way your heart hammered in your chest. You made hard eye contact with him, watching the way his eyes widened and how his irises scanned over the expanse of your face.

“Fuck me?” He spoke, his voice hard and breathy. His hand forced your face up, straining the muscles in your neck. The back of your head was pressed into the hard wall with firm pressure. And to your surprise, the corner of his lip turned up into an amused smile. “Fuck me huh?” He repeated, and as suddenly as it appeared, his smile dropped.

“Fuck you.” He spat, surging forward into a clash of tongue, teeth, and lips. You quickly grabbed at his head, twisting your fingers through his hair. Your arms wrapped around him like a constricting snake.

The kiss was so rough you didn't even know if it could be classified as a kiss really. His body practically slammed into you, pinning you to the wall like a fly caught in a spider's web. One of his hands still clutched your face while the other was pressed flat into the wall beside your head. You heard one of the pictures that was hung on the wall next to you clatter to the ground. Everything seemed to fade into the background, all that mattered was the man who was currently pinning you to the wall.

Price was kissing you like a man starved. You forgot where you were, what you were doing, and why you felt so angry in the first place.

You distantly felt his hands move down to roughly cup your ass and then the back of your thighs. Price hoisted you up, trapping you between the wall and himself. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, grinding your hips against his. You groaned as you felt his tented pants against your clothed core, he was hard as a rock.

Your hands raked down the expanse of his back, fisting the soft cotton of his shirt between your fingers. Price took a few steps back, holding you to his chest still. His back hit the other wall with a thud, making the other pictures rattle. He kept maneuvering around like a blind man until his back hit the door to one of the bathrooms. It gave way to his weight, swinging backward.

“Price what-” Your words were cut off by another open-mouthed kiss. You returned it just as eagerly, maybe asking what he was doing could wait another minute. Price’s back hit the door again, one of his hands scrambling for the lock. He carried you across the empty bathroom, bouncing off the walls and counters as you went.

He managed to open the door to the last stall tucked away in the corner. Slamming against the stall you kissed him like an animal, clawing at his back and rolling your hips into his.

After another minute you pulled away for a breath, panting like you'd just swam up for air. His breath fanned your lips, thick with his taste and your mixed spit. The dingy bathroom was poorly lit, casting everything inside it in a dark light. You swallowed, “What are we doing in here?” You panted.

Price’s hands squeezed your ass, “Making sure nobody else can see what I'm about to do to you.” His voice was heavy and thick, like molasses sugar. The richness of it clouded your senses, making you loopy. Without warning he pulled you off him, setting you down on your feet with a hand tangled in your hair.

“On the ground.” He spoke, more of a command than anything.

You blinked, either it was the round of drinks or just his effect on you but the words barely processed. “What?” You breathed, your eyebrows knitting together.

Price gave your head a sharp yank, a surprised gasp slipping past your lips. His thick digits curled around your hair tighter, pulling your scalp taunt. “I said on the ground, I know you can listen to me.” He said, his voice was rough now, scratching against your eardrums like sandpaper. You knew you were in far too deep to back out now. (Not that you wanted to). So, you obeyed, much like an animal self domesticating itself to survive.

Your knees pressed into the cool, hard tile. Price still held your hair, craning your neck up to look him in the eyes. You saw it, the small restraint he always held, like a second face he wore around everyone else- it was gone. There was pure, unabashed want in his eyes. You felt your lungs deflate, the breath leaving your body. Hands that held his thighs dug into his jeans, an unspoken message that screamed ‘go.’

The adams apple in his throat bobbed, and Price’s other hand migrated to his belt. Gradually he unclasped the silver belt buckle, “You’re a smart girl [Name]. I know you didn't just say all of that before cause’ you wanted to prove a point to me.” He spoke, sliding the leather band open and pushing the top button of his pants through the slit. “-I know you're not that fucking stupid. So tell me…why did you? Just to get under my skin? To rile me up?”

Your throat ran dry, eyes glued to his fingers as they slid down the zipper. Preening to watch the way his boxers spilled out of the narrow opening. Price yanked your head back again with a sharp yelp on your part.

“Look at me. Not my cock, you'll have plenty of time to look at it later.” He breathed, pools of navy boring in your eyes. His pupils dilated, the soft red that colored his cheeks and ears doing little to soothe the roaring flame that burned between your legs.

You were at a loss for words, to be honest, you weren't completely sure why either. A sense of curiosity? It was hard to put into speech, “I…I wanted to see what you'd do.” You answered, making his eyebrow twitch up.

“Thats all? Not because you have a fascination with me? With fucking with my goddamn head. You don't like driving me insane?” He spat, palming a hand over himself. Your eyes flicked down, watching the fabric of his briefs stretch over the bulge.

You swallowed, looking at him tentatively. “I wanted to see the real you. Not the front, not the put-together Captain. You.”

A silence hung in the air, one that casted a thick layer of tension between you. Price’s lips turned upwards, a darkly amused chuckle echoing through the empty bathroom. “You already had me, baby.” He reached his hand into his briefs, pulling out his thick cock. He groaned, rubbing his hand up and down his appendage, “Fucking temptress that's what you are. You want me to not hold back, is that it? To fuck you stupid?”

You couldn't take your eyes off him even if you'd wanted to. No matter how many times you saw his dick it never got old, all you could do was marvel at it. He was big, and more importantly, he was thick. You watched his hand stroke the peachy skin, watching the heaviness of its girth and the reddened mushroom tip that beaded with milky pre-cum.

Price laughed, eyeing the way you looked at him like a starving animal. “This what you wanted? What all the fuss was about?” You couldn't help but nod, wetting your lips just at the sight. “-Tell me you want it. That you want me to fuck your throat raw.” He spoke, Price held himself just out of reach. Like a cat with a feathery toy, you were completely entranced.

You nodded, “Price fuck my throat.” The words sounded so odd coming from your mouth, so raw and crude it almost surprised you.

Price gave your head a small tug, a satisfactory grin on his face. He looked down at you, nodding his head to you as if to say ‘Go ahead.’ You could barely contain yourself as your hands slid around his cock, feeling the burn of hot skin beneath your palms. He was so thick your one hand almost couldn't wrap around his girth, two hands would have to do the job.

The weight of his length felt good, oh yeah, and not to mention that he was harder than a metal pole. Hastily you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue over the bulbous tip.

Price’s head fell back against the stall door, his hips twitched forward. A hearty groan fell from his parted lips. The hand in your hair gave you an encouraging squeeze. You hummed, letting the vibrations from your voice reverberate off his dick. He tasted like skin, musky and salty, leaving an earthy kind of aftertaste that clung to your tongue like syrup.

You separated with a lewd ‘pop, watching the muscles in Price’s neck strain. Dipping your head you licked a stripe up his cock, coating the length in a thin layer of spit. One hand stroked him up and down while the other dug into his thigh, leaving small crescents into the fabric of his pants. Beads of pre-cum spilled out from the small slit of his tip, you let your thumb swipe over the head generously lubing up his base.

Price’s hands tightened in your hair, “Fuck- that's it. Just like that pretty girl.” He panted, earning a pleased hum from your lips.

Without warning you took his cock back into your mouth, sinking down the furthest you could without gagging. The gummy walls of your throat tightened around the foreign object, accompanied by a wet gulping noise. You inhaled through your nostrils, trying your best to take him further.

Price cursed loudly, the sound of his voice bouncing across the tile walls. His cock twitched in your mouth. You moved your head down then forward, repeating the motion until you found a steady rhythm of bobbing down on his dick. What your mouth couldn't reach your hand made up for, squeezing and stroking faster and faster. He was so wound up you could practically feel the tension under his skin.

You pulled off of him, your mouth agape as you panted. Spit and other fluid gleamed against your lips like a gloss. Price looked down at you, confusion written across his face with a tad of concern.

“Are you okay?” He said through heavy breaths, to which you nodded. However, you shot him a stern look.

“You're holding back.” You panted, staring at him with a knowing glare. Price looked at you, unsure of how to respond to your accusatory tone. “-I said-Fuck. My. Throat.”

His face hardened, and the same animalistic gleam came back. “Fine. You want me to let go? I can let go.”

That was all it took before his hand wrapped around your hair like a rope. Pushing you down his cock inch by fucking inch. He moaned through his teeth, “Fuck- you know what to do if it gets to be too much.” He said breathlessly. It was true, you did know you always had an out, but this was way more fun.

Your jaw went slack to accommodate him, the stretch of him down your throat sending full-body shivers down your spine. Then he started to move. Your hands found his thighs, digging your nails into his pants.

Price made good on his promise, fucking your throat like it was his life’s goal. The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat making you almost gag, hot tears stung your eyes. It was rough and desperate, he used your throat like he hated your guts. And you couldn't help but love every second of it, you managed to crack him. The hard shell he kept, and the walls he built up, were slowly crumbling down.

Then, as quickly as he pushed you down he pulled you off of him. You sucked in a desperate breath, making a small noise of confusion. You stared at Price with a quizzical look, one that bordered on ‘wtf??’

Price looked wrecked, his hair tussled and cheeks tinged red. Small beads of sweat trickled down his temples, but he smiled. “I'm sorry baby, did you want me to keep going?” He exhaled, an almost pitying aspect to his tone. The hand in your hair slid down to cup your chin, a rough thumb swiping over your puffy bottom lip.

“Why’d you stop?” You frowned up at him, and try as you might the disappointment in your voice was clear as day.

Price cupped your jaw, forcing your head back further. “Because as much as I love your mouth, I would much rather cum in that beautiful cunt of yours.”

You tried not to choke, refusing to give him the satisfaction that his words sent whole body shivers through you. But, it did sound heavenly, so you nodded and let him help you to your feet again. From there he guided you up against the stall, your palms flat on the cool door.

Price’s chest went flush with your back, his face tucked into where your shoulder met your neck. His hot breath fanned against you and the hairs of his scruff tickled your skin. Thick hands found your hips, sliding to your crotch to unzip your pants. You tried not to let your breath hitch as he palmed a hand over your clothed cunt.

“Jesus- this wet for me already? Haven't even touched you yet, but here you are, soaking your panties like a slag.” Price murmured into your nape, and even though you couldn't see it, you could feel his smirk.

You bit down on your cheek, “Big talk from someone who could barely keep it together while getting a simple blowy.” Your pants slid down and a sharp blow was delivered to your behind. You yelped, caught off guard by the harsh slap.

“Careful.” He murmured, his voice reverberating off the shell of your ear. Your eyes stung with tears as the burning sting of his mark cooled into a low ache. “-We don't have a whole day for you to think of a good comeback before someone comes knocking on that door. So I’d try to cooperate unless you want me to leave you high and dry. Which I'm perfectly fine with doing.”

Liar. He was bluffing, but Price was just as stubborn as you were and would most definitely make you wait an unseemly amount of time just to cum. So, for once in your life, you listened.

Trying to bite back your moans, you stood statue-still as Price tugged the offending garment to the side. Two fingers slid along your folds before plunging inside with a wet squelch. “Fuck, you're tight. You sure you can take me?” He breathed, and you threw your head back into his chest. He fingered you slowly, mapping out every crevice and dip with the pads of his fingers.

It wasn't enough. You needed more, “Price if you don't fuck me right now, I swear to god, I will do it myself.” Okay, so maybe that sounded a little bit more desperate than intimidating, but it got the message across.

You felt his breathy chuckle against your ear, and suddenly, his fingers slipped out of you. “Yes ma'am,” he said. However, the empty void left by his fingers was soon replaced by the burning contact of his cock against your swollen folds. Price groaned as he slid himself back and forth, gathering up your slick to use as lube.

A shudder ran down your spine, your palms pressing against the door harder. You pushed your hips back against him, earning another pleased hum from your Captain. You could barely breathe, there was a burning tension that ate away at your core. Like a rope stretched too tight, all you could do was wait for it to snap apart.

His tip slowly slipped inside your hole, the burning stretch of his girth sending the hairs at the back of your neck up. Inch by inch he seethed himself into you, “Price-holy fuck.” You moaned, even with how wet you were, no amount of lube would ever fully prepare you for the sheer mass of him.

Price drew you in, letting your walls stretch and mold to his dick. His hands grabbed at your hip and lower stomach, holding you in place. His beard brushed against your collar as he placed a few nipping kisses on your neck. “I know baby, I know, taking me so fuckin’ well. Shit, this pussy was made for me.” He murmured into your sweaty skin.

Without warning, his hips drew back only to snap forward again. You couldn't help the unseemly moan that fell from your lips, he pounded into your cunt like it was his last day alive. The sloppy sounds of skin echoed through the room.

“Oh my god- Price.” You choked out, the side of your face pressed against the door. “-feels so good.” You panted between wet slaps as his hips drove into your behind. You could barely think over the sound of your moans, each second that his dick plunged back into your sopping pussy felt like sparks being lit inside of you.

He moaned, his voice resounding across the shell of your ear. A hand snaked its way up your stomach and cupped your neck like a choker necklace. His skin burned, thick fingers curling around your scruff. It didn't hurt but it was firm, making you pliant to his body. “That's it. Take my cock, let me fuck you like the slut you are.” He grid out, “-this pussy knows what she wants, and it's me. Nobody else can fuck you like I do. Nobody else can give you what you need, what you deserve.”

Your cunt fluttered around him, causing his hips to stutter before driving back into you with so much force your hips hit the door.

Knock knock knock’

You're body went rigid, and all the air in your lungs seemed to escape your ribs. Fuck! You had totally forgotten that you were in a public bathroom for Christ's sake. Price had locked the door, but that didn't mean people wouldn't try and come in.

Knock knock knock!’

It was louder this time, more impatient. You tried to look back at Price, but his hand on your neck held your head still. He wasn't stopping.

“Not so fast girly, I’d like to finish what I started.” He chuckled, angling his hips as he slammed back into your cunt. The head of his cock nuzzled against the spongy muscle of your g-spot. You were so caught off guard you didn't have time to cover the absolutely shameless moan that slipped from your lips.

Price groaned, and his cock twitched. “Fuuckk that's it, let them hear you. Let everyone know how good I'm making you feel, how good I'm fucking this pussy.” You could barely process his words, everything was starting to build up to the point you were almost seeing stars. “-Come on baby, cum for me. Cum on my cock.” He panted through firm thrusts.

A sharp cry rang through the empty walls, you saw white. Body pulsing as the waves of euphoria washed over your body like the tide. Each thrust sending new shocks down your spine, prolonging every second of your orgasm. Price’s hips stuttered, a loud curse ringing from his lips as he came inside you.

What followed was an extended silence that was filled with heavy pants. You could barely stand, Price’s chest flush with your back, his head leaning against your shoulder.

“Think they got the message?” Price mused, his voice thick with exhaustion. You couldn't help the laugh that rose from your chest, listening in for another knock. When none came you sighed, “Guess so.” You breathed.

After another minute of rest Price pulled off of you, leaving a trail of cum seeping down your thigh. Not to mention your sweaty back and all-around messy appearance. Price simply grinned at you when you shot him a nasty glare, using some toilet paper to clean up the fluids. “Whoops.” He shrugged.

It was a good thing you were on the pill, you might've slapped him if otherwise. He chuckled and pressed a ‘sorry’ kiss to your temple, “Come on soldier, you look like you've been through a war.” He quipped. You didn't even try to laugh at that one.

“Funny.” You said sarcastically, but once he opened the door after redressing you, you froze. The reflection in front of you looked well…like you had just been fucked in a bathroom stall. Small bites and hickeys littered your neck, poking up to where it was obvious to see. You hit his shoulder, “You dumbass, I look like I've been attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes! What the hell is the team going to think Mr. Designated Driver?”

Price looked at your reflection too, scratching the back of his neck. “We’ll find you a coat.” He settled on.

There was a small beat of silence, you looked back at him. “A coat, and I get to skip running drills for next week. Then you're forgiven.”

He looked back at you, “Deal.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You really shouldn’t have been doing this. It was stupid, completely idiotic. (maybe not as stupid as hooking up with your captain in a pub bathroom.) But alas, John Price could charm you into anything.

The cold night air of autumn nipped at your nose, making your face feel numb. Somehow you still felt the breeze blow through your bones while bundled up in a large coat and scarf. Hands in your pockets, you tried your best to walk inconspicuously through the small town streets next to the base.

It was late, past lights out. Just minutes before you were getting ready for bed. However, when Price called you up out of the blue asking for you to meet him for a night walk, curiosity got the best of you. To say it was odd would be an understatement, but you knew better than to pass up the opportunity. The nightlife in the little town was pretty nice, with Halloween now in full swing and all.

Small pumpkins and candles littered the ground while stores and bars were strung with purple and green lights. For a second you almost forgot you were supposed to be meeting Price. You checked your phone, reading over his message again.

[Captain]: The place is by the park, on 82th Ave. It’s an outdoor pop-up, festive. You can't miss it.

You looked over at one of the street signs, 79th Ave, it said. At least you were getting closer, directions weren't really your strong suit so all you could really do was hope for the best.

If anyone saw you out of base, especially with Price you’d 100% raise a few eyebrows not to mention you'd be in deep trouble. So you dipped your head as low as it could go to conceal your identity. Was this behavior one of a paranoid schizophrenic? It was possible. But after the phesasco at the bar, you were okay with being weary.

You heard a soft crowd of voices coming from a distance away. Walking towards it you saw a playground lit up with small lights, two children with what looked like their parents chasing them across the woodchips. More adults walking around the greener outskirts of the ground, laughing and holding dogs on leashes.

It stirred something good inside you, like a warm feeling that you didn't often get. You stopped walking, just watching the scene play out like a domestic storybook.

“Took you long enough.”

You jumped, whipping around to see the deep voice behind you. Standing there was Price, dressed in a thick coat with worn-out jeans. He held two plastic cups in his hands, steam rising off the mystery substance inside.

“You scared me,” You deadpanned. Your eyes went from the drinks in his hands back to his face. “-What’s with the cups?”

Price rolled his eyes, nodding behind him to the pop-up stand. “It’s cold, so I got you something to warm up.” He handed you one, which you accepted. Raising it to your nose, you sniffed the steam. It was warm, thick with spices, and sweet. You looked back at Price with a quizzical look, to which he smiled. “It’s cider.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically. “Not the spiked kind I hope.” Holding the cup a bit away from you like it was radioactive. Price's eyes crinkled, chuckling as he shook his head.

“No, not spiked. We've got drills in the morning, I wouldn't do that to you.” With his confirmation, you took a sip, pulling your scarf down so you could drink. The hot liquid burned your tongue, but the flavor was worth it as it slid down into your stomach. Your eyes flickered up from the rim of the cup, looking at Price.

His eyes were on you, looking at you with a rare kind of softness. But after the split second of eye contact, he was the first to look away. You wiped your lips of the remaining sweetness, “Price what are we doing here?” You asked.

He cocked an eyebrow, “I thought I told you we were going on a night walk.” He said nonchalantly, earning a half-grunt on your part.

“I know that, but why am I here? I doubt that you're incapable of walking alone.” You pointed out, but Price just shrugged.

“Good company.” He said serrupticously, a wry smile stretched onto his lips. “-Are you really that averse to spending time with me? I'd hope after all this time spent together I wouldn't need a reason to want to be around you.” Price started walking, and out of instinct, you followed behind him until you were shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

“You're a bad lair.” You said, taking another sip of your cider. You watched the calm nightlife and a thought bubbled into your mind. Maybe to an onlooker you and Price probably looked like a couple just going on a stroll. It wasn't rocket science to see that there was a fraction of tension between you. Your cheeks pinked at the thought, but you pushed it away as soon as it came.

Price was also looking at the surrounding people, an odd look on his face. Something akin to yearning or want. He must've felt your stare because he spoke up. “Inquiring minds?”

You averted your eyes, “Sorry.” To which he shook his head, taking a sip of his drink.

“Don't bother, it’s fine.” He said cooly, his eyes fixed on a family standing a few feet away. You looked back at them then back to Price. A dawning washing over you in an instant. Your eyes furrowed in question.

“You uh… have a family?” Jesus that sounded choppy, you cringed at yourself. He looked at you a little surprised but shook his head.

“I mean sure. Everyone does, at least at one point. But if you're asking if I do currently then no.” You nodded, feeling a little bad for asking. It wasn't too uncommon in your field, but it still put a grim mood in the air. You tried thinking of ways you could rectify it.

“So…no crazy ex-wife or estranged children that I need to be worried about?” You said humorously, when Price smiled, a part of you sighed in relief.

He shook his head again, glancing at you. “No ex-wife or estranged children, no.” You smiled and nodded, but that raised another question.

“How come?” you asked simply.

He shot you a pointed look, “You're asking me that like I'm ancient. I'm not that much older than you are,” He breathed. “-But if you have to know I guess I just never had the time. It's a bit testy trying to form long-term connections with people when you're in this line of work.”

You nodded in understanding, he was right. The long deployments, chances of not coming back, weird hours, it all would put a strain on a relationship. It didn't stop some, however, sometimes after not seeing the good in humanity for so long you lose the ability to connect with anyone. Especially ‘normal’ people.

Your mind flashed to an old ex-boyfriend who used to talk at length about how cool it was that you got to “kill people for a living.” You didn't see it that way. Desensitized or not, it was still a human life you were taking, it took a toll, even if you were getting paid for it.

“I get that. It's hard to commit to someone you don't get to see most of the time.” You shrugged, a part of you wanted to ask about every relationship he'd ever had. More importantly how you fared against them. And for some odd reason, you felt uncomfortable knowing that he had been with other women. Maybe it was just basic biology or primitive instinct.

Price nodded, “If I could I would've.” He glanced back at the family, watching as the dad swept up his toddler into a hug. It was bittersweet, the way Price looked at the display, dangerously pulling at your heartstrings.

You gave him a weary smile, “There’s still time. Like you said, you're not ancient. Why not just retire and settle down with someone?”

Price looked back at you for a split second, not saying anything. He looked back out at the dark trees, the leaves rustling in the cold wind, and the lights that wrapped around the park. “Maybe at one point that was an option, but not now. I'm not cut out for it, my life is here. I'm no good at civilian shit, so I best stick to what I know.”

You didn't know what to say to that, it was a tough pill to swallow. It was silent for a few seconds. But, You nudged your shoulder with his, “Well then, I guess you're stuck with me.” Offering a somewhat awkward smile to go along with it.

Price looked down at you as he walked, his blue eyes were dark like the ocean. You didn't want to look away, you wanted to swim in his thoughts, drown yourself in his pools of navy grey. Eyes that housed so much hostility and venom towards you now bore into your own with a warmth that struck you like a match. His lips turned up, “Guess there are worse places to be.”

Your smile came back, and the mood between you ebbed into a lighter, happier atmosphere. Taking a last swig of your cider you shook your head, “You guess? Need I remind you who asked me to be here?”

Price chuckled, doing the same and tossing his empty cup into a nearby garbage. “Alright, you win. I am grateful you came, like I said, all in good company.”

The conversation faded into a comfortable silence, and you and Price walked around the park. You watched as more and more people slowly started to dwindle, leaving it emptier than when you got there. After doing a sort of loop you both agreed to start walking back to base, and so you did. Shoulder to shoulder you walked with him through the small streets and shops.

Once you started coming up on the familiar large building a strong gust of air hit you. Your eyes shut tightly and your nose scrunched. When you did open your eyes back up Price was looking at you, you stared back at him. “What?”

Price snickered, “Wind got you pretty good. There's a leaf in your hair.” He pointed out, to which you blindly started to try and fish out said leaf. He shook his head at your feeble efforts, stopping your hands.

“I’ll get it. You're just messing it up.” He breathed, carefully his large hands combed through your head. Plucking out a pine leaf and a small fuzz, “There.” He said proudly.

He flicked the unwanted objects off to the side, but one of his hands never left your hair. He was almost holding your face in his palm, you blinked up at him. Wondering why he wasn't letting you go, “Is there something else?” You asked.

Price looked at you, licking his lips before pursing them in a line. Slowly he shook his head, “No.” It was silent for another beat, the soft puffs of your breath visible in the cold. You watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed.

“Tell me you don't want me to kiss you.” He breathed.

Without a second thought, you shook your head no, “Price kiss me.” It was almost alarming to you how naturally it came out. You barely even processed your own words.

And as his lips met yours in a chaste, soft kiss, you let yourself melt into him. You let him in.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You had five months until your time with 141 came to an end. In that time you had managed to befriend the whole team, make enemies with your captain, kiss said Captain, go on to have a very explicit no-strings-attached relationship with him, and now…this.

What was ‘this?’ Well, you didn't really quite know yourself. But after that night when he kissed you outside of base without any intention of hooking up with you, your clear-cut relationship with him became a jumbled mess of suppressed emotion. No longer were intimate gestures limited to sexual encounters, in fact, they were frequently more domestic.

Was this all of Price’s doing? No. It was both, both of you were an intimacy-starved mess. But you couldn't help it, his private quarters were so nice and his king-sized bed seemed to fit both of you nicely on the nights you couldn't sleep. And what of it that you helped him with paperwork into the wee hours of the night? He hated being stuck up in his office alone, it was a kind gesture. Now you didn't even have to make your morning tea and coffee because whenever you made your way into the small break room a fresh cup was always sitting on the counter for you in Price’s signature mug.

And on your weekends off? Oh, you bet your sorry (but not really,) ass he was stuck to your hip like glue.

Without knowing it, you and your captain had almost formed a routine together. One that slowly started filling the lonely silence of your day with his body, his voice, his presence.

You knew every scar on his body, you'd mapped them out like constellations. You learned something new about him every day too, it was exciting yet familiar all at once. Unbenoiced to you, 141 and by extension Price, had become home.

All of this had somehow been accumulating without your knowledge until now. To which this realization that you were a little too fond of your captain hit you like a truck. Bringing you to your current position, hunched over a small table that was tucked away in the corner of the break room. It was wayyy past lights out, but laying in your bed left with your thoughts and anxiety sounded nightmarish. A steaming cup of tea sat on the table a few inches away, (in Price’s signature mug of course.)

Just as you were about to finally take a sip, someone walked in. You sat straight up, your heart running a million miles an hour. On top of that, you almost knocked your tea over. Who the hell was coming in at almost one in the morning???

It was Gaz.

You placed a hand over your racing heart, letting out the breath you didn't know you were holding. “Jesus- you scared the shit out of me Garrick.” You said wearily.

Gaz stood at the door in his beat-up grey sweatshirt and plaid pajama pants. He looked a little rough, well, as rough as someone with his looks could be. He scratched the back of his head, “Sorry, didn't think anyone would be up this late.” Dark eyebags colored his smooth brown skin, making him look like he was two steps from passing out.

Your eyebrows furrowed in a slight amount of worry, “rough night?” He nodded, walking into the room, and making a beeline for the refrigerator.

“Pretty much, figured it was better to be awake than sleeping if sleep wasn't doing me any good.” He yawned, grabbing one of those refrigerated protein bars from the fridge. You nodded a silent understanding. Nightmares were commonplace, nobody talked about them, but everyone had a shared understanding of what went on in and after you woke up. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish where the dream ended and reality began.

He looked back at you as he tore the wrapper off, “What about you? You look like shit…so I want to say you're in the same boat?” Gaz took a large bite of his bar.

You groaned, your head falling back down on the wood table. “Gee, thanks. But not really, just sorting out some other business.” You said bitterly.

Gaz hummed in understanding, but when you looked back up he was pulling the opposite end chair out. He sat himself across from you, folding his arms as he ate. “Okay, what's up then?” He said plainly.

You blinked at him, “What? No, I'm not just going to tell you. It's private.” You said shaking your head and putting your hands up as if to block his question. Gaz looked at you unimpressed, raising a single eyebrow.

“Uh-huh, does it have something to do with Price?” He said, staring at you with the intensity of a laser.

You almost choked on your spit, looking at him like he'd just killed your family cat in front of you. Your mouth agape, “Absolutely not. Why would you think it’d be about Price?” You said quickly.

Gaz simply looked at you, raising both his eyebrows at you. A silent communication of ‘Are you serious?’ was said by his stare. After another moment of the staring contest, you gave up, dropping your head back down with a groan. “I'm so fucked.” You said defeated.

He perked up, “Spill.” Was all he said.

You covered your mouth, almost as if to stop yourself from saying anything. This was so breaking every agreement you and Price had talked about. But frankly, you were going insane keeping it to yourself. And maybe Gaz was the best person to tell, as much as you loved Ghost and Soap, they were useless at keeping secrets.

You glanced back up to Gaz, his brown eyes intently staring at you. Your resolve started to crumble, “I think I’m in love with him.” Whispered, the haunting words magnifying the gravity of the situation you found yourself in.

Gaz’s eyes shot wider like he’d just been injected with 1,000g of caffeine. His mouth fell open, and the half-eaten bar in his hands dropped onto the table. You both sat there staring at each other with similar mortified expressions. He shut his mouth, “I-Well that wasn't really what I expected to hear.” He said agast.

You buried your face into your hands, groaning. “Fuck I know- I don't even know where that came from. But we've been like…messing around with each other for a few months, and I thought it was just that.” You sighed, rubbing your face with your palms. “But now everything is like complicated, I just let my feelings take the reins and got ahead of myself. Now I don't know what to do and nobody knows because obviously, I couldn't tell anyone. After all, either of us could get in trouble.”

Gaz sat silent as you rambled on, “-I’m still not sure exactly what I'm feeling. I've never felt this way about anyone else, I've had boyfriends, but not a weird hookup situation. So, I'm not sure how one really goes about this.” You looked down at the table, taking a breath. “So, does that answer your question?” You breathed.

He stared at you, dumbfounded. “So that rumor you got so mad over was true?” He said lamely, to which you groaned and threw your hands up in the air.

“No!” You whisper shouted, “-I mean no but yes. The rumor came first, that night I stormed off Price kissed me. And after that things just kinda… got carried away.” You said sheepishly, feeling a bit guilty.

Gaz let out a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Jesus [Name], I knew something was going on between you but I didn't think it went that deep.” He ran a hand over his chin, scratching his jaw. “-So…you and Price have been secretly fucking, but just recently you realized that this uh, arrangement, has gone to shit because you now have feelings for him. Am I following?”

You pursed your lips into a tight line, “Pretty much.”

He nodded and hummed in concentration, “Okay, but what changed? What made you realize you had feelings? Because to the rest of the team, it still looks like you’re at each other's throats.” Gaz said, crossing his arms.

You thought about it for a moment, trying to pull maybe a specific event from your memory. “I guess it just kinda built up…I mean he just changed. Sure we still fight but it’s more like banter now. He kisses me, and he holds me, he's funny and sweet…it's almost like I get to see an entirely new version of him that I just didn't see before.”

Gaz blinked at you, seemingly surprised. “Actually?” He said, stunned. To which you nodded aggressively.

“Yes- he's totally done a 180. But in a good way, he's still the same asshole but he's loving and caring too. And I feel like I'm pulling my teeth out just staying in a situation where he makes me feel like I mean so much, but then I have to go and pretend I hate him.” (you still sometimes did.)

Gaz listened to you speak, holding his chin while he thought about your words. After you were done, all he could do was sigh, “Well…shit. Half of me wants to pat you on the back while the other half wants to slap you across the face for being stupid.”

You scrunched your nose, holding your hands up in surrender. “Please don't, I have enough problems as it is. I don't need to add a black eye into the mix.”

Gaz breathed an amused laugh, though, it sounded more weary than you would've liked. Even if it was the worst idea in the world to tell him, you felt better now that it was off your chest. You looked down at the table, “So, what do I do now?”

He opened his mouth to respond but all that came out was silence. He was just as lost as you were.

You looked at him hopelessly, “Come on man, give me something.”

Gaz looked down at the table, pursing his lips in a tight line. Obviously, he had an idea, but he just wasn't saying anything. “What if you tried to make it work with him?” He proposed.

Your eyes widened a fraction, your mouth hanging open in what only could be described as ‘gobsmacked.’ “You're kidding right?” You asked, your tone nearly laughable.

He shook his head, crumbling up the wrapper of his protein bar and tossing it into a nearby trashcan. His shoulders rose with a sigh, “No I'm not. I mean… why not just try? It sounds to me like you've got a fighting chance to make things work.” He said encouragingly.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your eyes squeezing shut. “Two minutes ago you said you wanted to slap me, and now you're telling me that I should go for it?” You said incredulous.

Gaz held his hands up in surrender, “Yes, but that was before I knew everything. I just thought you were fucking the Captain at first, which is still completely idiotic. But it sounds to me like both of you are emotionally invested in each other.” He said putting his hands back down, “-And you're only here for a couple more months right? Just keep it on the down-low then you can do whatever you want. I'm like ninety percent sure that Price likes you too.”

You groaned, your head falling on the table with a clunk. “Only ninety percent?” Peeking up to look at him, his face morphing into one of scrunched wash cloth.

“Maybe like eighty-five. But those are still good odds in my book.” He said guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You're not helping.” You sighed, resuming your dramatic pity party. Gaz rolled his eyes at your antics, placing a comforting hand on your head and giving it an encouraging pat. “Hey, I'm not saying you have to do some big confession. All I'm doing is suggesting that communicating with him may bring some good. Like Soap said that one time, Price acts differently around you, I think you've got some good chances.”

You finally looked up at him again, his face a pitying smile. “Think about it.” He said finally, leaving you with more on your mind than you originally started with.

“Okay, I'll think about it.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Four months to go and nothing had happened. Well, not necessarily, the team had continued to train, your sneaking around with Price was still going, and the world kept spinning. Turns out that realizing one's feelings for another doesn't cause the sun to explode. Fascinating stuff.

However, there was still no confession of feelings of any kind. The two of you danced around your ‘relationship’ like it was a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode. Maybe it was for the greater good, some things were just better off unsaid.

In the meantime, your focus had shifted in light of new events that were fast approaching. You still cringed thinking of your first real mission back in Urzik, and while nothing horrible happened, it still left you with a sour taste on your tongue. There were small things 141 had been doing but now a new mission was right around the corner. There was still little to no word about rouge commander Shepard nor an explanation of the abandoned facility you had raided months back.

You still didn't even know if the two were connected, probably not. But it was still possible, maybe best not to think too hard about it. After all, you weren't the brains behind the operations, you were just the pon they sent to die in their place.

The air around 141 had become tense again, much like before Urzik. Everyone was on edge, especially Price. You were happy to take the edge off most of the time, but there were some things that sex just couldn't fix. And this fell into that category.

You were sitting on an office chair in one of the conference rooms around base. The rest of the team stood close to the large wooden table or sat in the other scattered chairs. The tension in the room was thick, nobody said a word. All focus was on Price, who stood a few feet apart from the group, flipping through a manilla folder. His eyebrows furrowed in tension and his lips pulled into a subtle frown.

He set the folder down, “We’re going back to Urzik.”

You could almost feel the shift in the mood from bad to worse. But before you could voice your complaints Soap beat you to it. “We’re going back to that shite hole? After what happened last time I would have assumed someone figured out that we should stay out of the terrorists and the Russians assholes.”

Price sighed, punching the bridge of his nose. “We don't know if they were terrorists back at the compound. And Urzik hasn't been under Russian occupation since 2019.” He said, earning a half laugh from both Soap and Ghost.

“Come on Cap, you don't even believe that crap they're pushing.” Soap chuckled, his arms crossed over his chest. Leaning against the wall behind you.

While it was true that Urzikstan had been liberated from Russian rule, some of the men under General Markov’s command had disappeared after his death. Leaving some loose ends for the CIA and SAS to clean up. There had been some word of Markov’s men teaming up with local militant groups who despised Urzik’s central government. But it wasn't confirmed, nor viable.

Price shook his head, “It doesn't matter if I believe it or not. The point is that we have a job to do and we’re not going to let past affairs get the better of our judgment.” He ran his hand over the scruff of his beard, “-Laswell wouldn't be sending us in again if she didn't have a good reason to. They have reasonable intel that just outside of Riyzabbi there's an abandoned bazaar where all of the goods from the compound were relocated.”

Ghost chimed in, “So they're sending us on the same wild goose chase they did before? Who's to say they don't pull the same shite as last time?”

You nodded along with his words, he had a point. Price grunted, waving him off. “Like I said before, they have better intel. I'm asking you to trust me, if I see anything I don't like we’re out. Whatever is in there, we have the means to put it to an end.”

Everyone fell silent, taking in the information. It was a while before anyone spoke again, Soap sighed. “If I have to eat that awful food back at checkpoint base I’m quitting on the spot.”

For a second the mood shifted, and you laughed, but the reality of the situation was hovering over you like a looming storm cloud.

For a brief moment, you locked eyes with Price, and his stare told you everything you needed to know. He was just as frustrated, if not more so. His gaze shifted again, staring down at the table with an intensity you couldn't fathom. “Everyone’s dismissed. We leave at 0500 in 72 hours.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

As Price said, 72 hours later, you were back in the air, flying to Urzikstan. An ache gnawed at the back of your head, making the already dreary ride more depressing. You were too uncomfortable to sleep and too tired to stay awake. Creating an odd out-of-body experience that you had the “pleasure” of basking in for the whole 5-hour flight.

After you had landed at the checkpoint base you took a moment to reacquaint yourself with the landscape. Not much had changed aside from a few new tents and other minor additions to the camp. You felt a sense of Deja Vu looking at the old dining hall tent and medical area. Memories from your and Price’s first kiss flooded your mind, under different circumstances, it might have been somewhat pleasant recounting the moment. But now, it only made you feel profoundly sad. It was nostalgic-back when everything was simpler between the two of you.

Whatever was bubbling up inside you, you shoved it down as far as it could go. Hating someone was a lot more straightforward than loving them.

You made your way to the ‘barracks,’ setting what little things you had onto the small cot. Everyone else was just as miserable as you were, obviously, this wasn't their first choice for sleeping quarters. A part of you wished it wasn't daytime, it would be easier to sleep away the anxiety and headache.

You had until dark to do as you pleased, when nightfall came, you were going to be loaded up into the trucks again. From there, you'd go to Riyzabbi, and once it was clear to do so, to the bazaar.

Just like the last time you were here, you felt a deep sense of dread. One that you couldn't pinpoint, nor could you explain away with ‘just nerves’. There was too much that you didn't know, and too little payoff. The only advantage 141 had was the element of surprise, and even that wasn't confirmed. A small part of you felt anger towards Laswell, she probably knew that there was something off about this mission, and yet she was sending you and the team directly into the pit of lions.

To quell the sense of impending doom, you started to wander around the checkpoint base. Not sure where you were going or what your end goal was, you continued walking. That was until you heard someone's voice bleeding out from one of the tent walls. Their tone was accusatory, malicious even, it was laced with so much venom you could feel your skin recoil. It didn't sound familiar, but the voice who came after it did.

“You know just as well as I do it's a suicide mission. I’m not sending my team out there to die. All for some fucking game of territory monopoly and protecting Shepard.”

Price.

The other voice spoke up again, seemingly more agitated than the first time if that was possible. “Shepard is gone, and he sure as hell isn't going to be here in Urzik. And It's not a suicide mission. The CIA hired your team to do a job, not back out when things get real. Your opinion on how the government deals with involvement concerning foreign enemy affairs has no merit, Captain. If it were up to me, your team wouldn't even be here, but Kate Laswell keeps you on a tight leash doesn't she?”

You heard a loud bang, akin to a hard fist being slammed onto flat wood. “Watch your mouth. You and your muppets can both go crawl back under the CIA’s boot. As for Laswell, you know just as well as I do she would be more than happy to bring you and rouge commander Shepard's previous associations to the attention of your government.”

There was silence for a beat. Suddenly you could feel your heart beating, pounding in your chest. Your fingers felt numb, and even time seemed to slow. You could say with 100% certainty that you were not supposed to be listening, you weren't even sure if you wanted to keep listening. You heard footsteps coming from the inside, in your peripheral vision, you caught the slight rustle of the tent door. Without thought you jumped out of sight, pressing yourself to the side of the tent just as a man stormed out.

You watched the back of his head as he muttered something, you held your breath. After a good minute, you exhaled, silently creeping out from where you stood. Something in you was telling you to leave, to pretend you had never heard what you did. But there was a magnetic pull that drew you back into Price.

Carefully, you peeked your head through the tent door. A few feet away was Price, his back was turned with his hand over his face, the other on his hip. Before you could speak he turned around to see you, his eyes growing twice the size. Time seemed to freeze for a second time, you watched his eyes go from surprise to anger, and then to exhaustion. By the look on your face, he most likely already knew what you were hiding.

“How much did you hear?” He sighed, rubbing his hand over his cheek.

You walked into the tent, standing awkwardly in front of the door. “Just the last part.” You confessed, swallowing what little bravery you had left.

Price didn't respond, his hand moving over his eyes to rub and smooth over his temples. His cheeks pulled in as he bit the inside of his mouth. “Right… well, I'm sorry you had to hear that.” He breathed, his voice more weary. A stark contrast to the raw anger you heard from him a few moments prior.

You shook your head, “Don't be sorry. At first, I was mad at you and Laswell for going through with this. But… I guess after that, I know you didn't want to either.” You tried your best to form a semblance of hope, giving him a drained smile. “Like you said, this mission is fucking suicide. But if anyone can lead the team and somehow come out alive, it's you.”

There was a flash of something in Price’s eyes, it was the same thing that you saw back on your walk with him months prior. You glanced down at his hands, watching the way they flexed. Like he was aching to hold, to touch something. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, “I’m sorry.” He breathed, “-I’m sorry that I'm putting you and the guys in this situation.”

Price’s hand came back up, dragging it across the side of his face. His eyes shut tight, eyebrows knit together. “It's just…the longer I stay here, doing this, the more it's clear to me none of it was for a greater good. And I don't want that for you.” He sighed, “-I…I want you to know there is a way out [Name]. You don't have to continue to do this.”

This made you draw back, Price had never sounded like this before. He sounded like he was already admitting defeat, and like he was giving you a chance to escape what you chose to do. Your eyebrows furrowed, marching straight up to him with your lips twisted in a frown. You reached up to pull his hand away from his face, your other hand reaching up to cup his cheek with your hand. Your palm pressed against his jaw, feeling the rough bristle of his beard under the pads of your fingers. Forcing him to look at you.

“Don’t do that.” You said sternly, making his eyes snap back. Looking at you with a mixture of surprise and confusion. “-Don’t act like everything is already set in stone, we don't know what's going to happen. It could go bad but it could also be fine. And you're also acting like I didn't choose to be here, I'm willing to do this job Price. Just because I don't like what shady shit someone is doing behind the scenes doesn't mean I'm going to back out.”

Price stared at you, and you stared back. Willing him to understand that you had hope for him, you had hope for the team. Maybe it was stupid to try and be strong, but if you didn't try, you'd be giving up too.

You couldn't leave, not now. Not when you had a reason to stay. As much as you hated the idea of someone sending you into a death trap, the only thing you hated even more would be leaving Price to go into said death trap. You couldn't pry yourself away from him even if you tried. Your hand squeezed his, I love you, the gesture said.

Price squeezed your hand back, “[Name], I-” I love you, his eyes said. You shook your head, staring back at him with the same intensity.

“I know.” You breathed back. You couldn't stand it, you wanted to hear the words from his mouth. You wanted it with everything in you, but this was probably the worst time you could think of to confess. So, you settled for a mutual understanding. A silent promise, that when you came back maybe things could be different.

There was another beat before he leaned in, and like an idiot, you let it happen. Your hand tightened slightly against his cheek, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed you. His lips were warm, and you sighed into his mouth as you got a taste of him. His mouth that tasted like smoke and whiskey, and you yearned for more. His body was charged with an electricity that sent shivers down your spine. Every brush, touch, and groan had you on edge.

Before you knew it, he was pushing you up against the table that sat in the middle of the room. Your hand slid down from his face to fist into his shirt as you were slowly backed against the wood. You should've pushed him off, it was too risky to be doing this now. It was mid-day for fucks sake, not only that but anyone could walk into the tent.

Yet something about the tension, exposed and raw like an open cable wire, held you back from protesting. Hell, if this was the last time you were going to see him outside of the field, mind as well go out with a bang (literally).

Price must've come to the same conclusion by the way he sat you down on the table, standing in between your parted thighs. His breath was heavy and his lips slick, taking you in with his eyes. “Fuckin’ Christ love, you're a vision. I don't say it enough, but you're gorgeous.” He murmured, breathless.

You felt your cheeks go hot, the warmth seeping up into your ears. Taking compliments was never your strong suit. Price pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead, his hands moving from your waist to the belt and zipper of your pants. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “Baby lay back for me.”

Well with that voice, you couldn't bear to not comply. You hesitantly lowered your back onto the flat wood of the table. Propping yourself on your elbows, watching as Price slowly pulled your pants down to reveal your undergarments. His eyes flickered to you then back to your covered pussy, an insatiable hunger in those pools of navy blue. He lowered to his knees, hooking your thighs under his biceps. Price pressed a few soft nips and kisses to the burning skin of your inner thighs, earning a few soft gasps on your part.

Your nails scraped against the wood, biting down on your lip to keep your voice down. With one hand, Price hooked his finger against the fabric of your panties, parting it to the side to show your soaked cunt. A small groan left him at the sight of you, he glanced back at you. “You’re gonna be quiet now right?”

Without a thought behind it, you nodded. Desperate to have his mouth on you, he leaned in, flattening his tongue to lick a long stripe up your folds. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering for a moment. When he started to swirl his tongue over your clit, you almost broke. “Price-” You gasped out, your voice a whisper.

He hummed against your cunt, suctioning his mouth against your clit. “No Price here, we’re far past that love. Use my name baby, use my name and I'll listen.” He murmured, the vibrations of his voice making your mind dizzy. One of your hands threaded into his short hair, guiding his face against your pussy.

“Fuck- John, feels good. Feels so good.” You whispered, your voice almost a mewl. His dull nails dug into the meat of your thigh, groaning softly as he lapped at your weeping cunt. Your eyes squeezed shut, all of your concentration honing in on trying not to moan out loud.

His tongue switched between fast flicks of your clit and drawn-out open-mouthed kisses to your mound. When you got more desperate you guided him to where you wanted, and John was happy to oblige.

Your back was now flat on the table, thighs locked around Price’s head like a boa constrictor. Your voice was now silent moans and labored breaths, and with every passing moment, it was harder to stay quiet. Your nails tugged at his hair, gripping onto him like a lifeline. John suddenly pushed his tongue into your hole without warning, pushing the tip of the muscle in and out with vigor. You nearly screamed, slapping a hand over your mouth to bite on your knuckle.

Price was devouring you like a man starving.

Your back arched off the wood of the table, methodically moving your hips in tandem with his tongues movements. The slurry of noises coming from John’s mouth and your cunt was obscene. Wet smacks of his lips mixed with small groans and deep gasps.

It felt like you were floating, your senses muddied beneath the feeling of his mouth. Your body was burning, a coil in your stomach just begging to snap. You bucked your hips into his face, begging him to quell the fires raging in your body. Price seemed to catch on, he held one of your thighs tight while the other slid between your legs. His mouth hovering over your pussy, he slipped a digit into your aching cunt.

You silently cried out, your core tightly gripping his finger as he curled it inside you. Then, he slowly worked in a second, mimicking the ‘come here’ motion with his fingers buried deep in your pussy. “Atta’ girl, little longer for me.” John breathed against you, his breath fanning against your cunt.

Suddenly he was on you again, swirling his tongue over your swollen bud while curling his digits in you. You could have died happy then and there, everything felt so good you couldn't think. Your nails dug into the table, marking it with long stripes.

Between his fingers and his tongue, you were a goner. Your vision went white, trying your hardest not to scream out to the heavens. “John- shit I can’t I'm gonna cum.” You whined through heavy pants, tears pooling in the corner of your iris from the stimulation.

“Come on then, cum for me. Let go love, cum on my mouth.” He murmured against your sopping pussy, flicking his tongue over your clit and speeding the movement of his fingers.

That was all it took before you came, hard. Your back arched and your head fell back, biting down on your hand so hard that it hurt. Your thighs shook as the wave of your orgasm crashed over you, white-hot and mind-blowing. And John fucked you through it, never letting up on his page until you fell limp like a bag of flour. After those precious few moments, he gently slid his fingers from your cunt. Pressing a soft kiss to your thigh before setting it down slowly.

You were gone. Your brain turned to mush, a daze of post-orgasm exhaustion and giddiness. Slowly you blinked your eyes back open, letting John slowly guide you back to a sitting position. He held the small of your back while his other hand held your face.

“You alright?” John murmured, his mouth shiny with your slick. You couldn't help but laugh, your forehead hitting his lightly.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm alright.” You breathed. The after-glow hit you hard, but there was still the looming anxiety of the mission. You knew the moment wouldn't last forever, you just hoped you could bask in it a little longer.

John sensed the shift, knowing it was his turn to be brave, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. His eyes soft, “Hey, like you said, we’re gonna be okay. Nothing is set in stone yet.” He whispered, making you nod.

“Right. We’re going to come out of this.” You said, more for yourself. He nodded, the both of you knew deep down it was wishful thinking. But maybe having something to hope for, something to come back to, would push you to fight even harder to keep it.

And in the end, you were willing to do anything to keep this.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Everything around you was dark, with an air pungent with dust and grime. The walls only grew bigger and shadowed as you passed, ducking behind doors and boxes to remain out of sight. Just like last time everyone was paired in either a group of two or three, you were with Ghost. You had to give him credit where credit was due, as large and burly as he was, he was silent as he moved.

The bazaar was large, with huge openings in the ceilings covered by hanging fabric. Open doors that connected rooms and massive lamps draped from the walls. It might've even been nice had it not been for its years of inactivity, and under the cover of night, it was simply eerie. Wires covered the walls and ceiling, some even hanging down low enough to snag someone if you weren't careful.

You weren't quite sure what exactly you were looking for, after all, you didn't know what this aforementioned ‘bio-chemical lab’ looked like. And if it was easily portable, it wouldn't exactly look like your standard chemistry lab.

“[Name].”

Ghost spoke into your headpiece, standing several feet away. You snapped out of your train of thought, looking back at him.

“Let’s get a move on, the others are on the top floor. I'm guessing it’s near the bottom, or even underground, be on high alert. There's bound to be people this time around.” He said, earning a nod from your end.

With that, you made your way further into the bazaar. Gun at the ready, you weaved through rooms and piles of storage and other junk. When you got to a large room on the north side of the building, tucked away between rubble and containers your body tensed. There wasn't anything unordinary about it, it looked exactly like every other room, but something felt off. A few steps into the space and you had your explanation for the uneasiness you felt.

With an odd thunk’ of your boot on the ground, you looked back at Ghost. He looked back at you, the same expression on his face, it was hollow.

You came off it, brushing your foot over the area again to remove the grime and dust. It was a different color and texture than the ground. “Well I’ll be damned, you were right.” You breathed, “-Think this opens up from the outside?” Ghost kneeled on the ground next to whatever you found. Pushing his hand over it and sending small clouds of dust into the air.

“Doesn't matter if it does.” He said, fishing out a knife from his bullet vest. Finding a dibet with his finger in the ground he wedged the blade in between the surface, pulling up until the ground lifted.

With a grunt, he wrapped his fingers around the edge of the trap door. Pulling until the structure revealed a human-sized rectangular hole in the ground. A latter peeking out from inside the ground pressed into the side of the dirt. You stared down at it, knowing this was it. Clicking your headpiece, you spoke, “Cap, we got something. Northside, ground floor, it’s a trap door in the last room.”

After a moment you got a response, “Copy. See what you can find, we’re coming. If you see anything don't think, just shoot. I want you and Ghost alive.” Price’s voice rang loud and clear in your ear.

With a nod, you looked back down at the hole, even with night vision, it was hard to make out the bottom. Ghost was the first to go down, with you following suit the minute he gave the all-clear to come down. Inside was dark and smelled like mildew, a tunnel leading further into the unknown. The same wires that hung down from up on the surface were strung about the dirt walls. It wasn't spacious in the tunnel, but it didn't make you feel claustrophobic.

Ghost raised his gun, nodding to you to follow as you made your way deeper. It wasn't long until you reached a door, it wasn't impenetrable by any means, but it was going to be a pain to get through. But the thing that caught your attention most was the faint light that peeked from the cracks of the hinges. Ghost looked at you, “Get back, and I’ll break the door, you follow in straight after and shoot at anything you see.”

As said, with a firm kick, Ghost kicked the door down. The metal swung open with a crackle, and with your gun at the ready, you quickly followed him inside. The first thing you heard was voices, panicked and deep. Your eyes met a man in the corner of the room, quickly scrambling up to his feet and reaching the rifle that lay in front of him. Just like you were told, you didn't think, you acted on instinct.

Your gun went off, and his body was forced back by the blow. Blood spattered the wall behind him, his head rolling limp on his shoulders. You heard another shot fired, looking over to Ghost who was in firing position, and then to the direction of his rifle. Another body, this one standing, keeled over onto the floor, pooling red onto the ground. A deafening silence followed after, you waited for more voices but they never came.

“Just two?” You said, looking between the two. “-and they don't look local.” You muttered, focusing on the pale skin and European features. You looked back to Ghost who was standing a few feet away. “-Think they might be Russian like Soap said?”

Ghost shrugged, “It's possible.” He gruffed, looking around the room. It was emptier than you expected, with a table, lamps, flasks, and a few weapons. Another voice rang out from somewhere in the cavern before you could look any further. Coming from another hallway that you had missed when you first saw the room.

You quickly ran against the wall near the hallway entrance, pressing yourself into the hard surface so you wouldn't be seen. Ghost followed suit, and not a second later another man ran out, rifle in hand. And just like before you fired, watching the body hit the ground like a sac of potatoes.

This one looked like he could be from Urzik. You looked back at Ghost, who pushed off the wall, ducking into the hallway. It wasn't long before you entered a much bigger cavern, full of boxes and equipment. Open containers of guns with ammunition, tables covered with cylinder-shaped lab equipment. You could hardly classify this as a lab, more like a glorified basement with makeshift tools. Large computers also lined what little space they could occupy. Florescent overhead lights cast the room in a putrid dimish glow.

Before you had time to react a bullet brushed past your arm. Sending a burning shock through your system. You ducked, trying to avoid what you couldn't see.

“They're shooting!” You yelled out to Ghost, finding refuge in a large container that you hid behind.

You looked around, desperate to see where the firing was coming from. Your eyes caught three at first glance, one person across the room, hiding behind another container. Another fired from a doorway, and the last one hid behind a table. All three aiming for either your box of Ghost. Your hands held your gun with an iron grip, turning your knuckles white.

You peeked out from behind the container, aiming for the second guy in the doorway. Your first shot missed, but your second shot straight through his forehead. Ghost, from wherever he was, took out the third guy from behind the table. Leaving the one behind the other container, peaking back out you felt another bullet fly past you. You scrambled back, your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

You called out to Ghost, “I can't get him! You're gonna have to take the last one!” After another shot to your hiding place, chipping the wood of the contained, Ghost called back.

“Copy! I've got him!” He yelled, a final shot echoing through the cavern before everything fell into an eerie silence. You tentatively rounded the corner of the container, looking back at the first guy's hiding spot. When all you saw was his body flat on the ground, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You heard Ghost call to you again, “[Name], you hurt?” You stood up, looking over in the direction of his voice. He was behind one of the walls of the hallway, pressed against the dirt wall.

“No, I'm all good. You?” You said back, scanning him for any sign of injury. He shook his head, letting his gun fall to his side.

“I'm clear.” He said, walking out from the hallway. You looked back at the three bodies adorning the floor, which made six in total so far. These three also looked like they were locals, you walked over to one. Moving your foot to hover over their hand, you kicked the gun away, staring at the blackened tattoo on his palm. Before, Soap had mentioned that rebel groups in Urzik shared a tattoo on their palms. Much like a gang tattoo, it united them under a common collective.

You looked back at Ghost, “What do Urzik terrorists have to do with us? If this really is a problem with uprisings against their government, why would the SAS and the CIA get involved?”

Your mind flashed to the conversation between Price and the commander back at the checkpoint base. He had said that if it had been up to him, 141 would never have been involved. Laswell had been the one to push for the team's involvement, even with its potholes. Then came Shepard, whose disappearance had led to your involvement with the team in the beginning. The only link to this you had to Shepard was his name being mentioned back at base.

Jesus, your head hurt just trying to think about it.

Ghost walked over to you, “My advice wouldn't be to think too hard about it [Name]. We’re doing a job, thinking about shite like this leads into a bigger rabbit hole than you think.”

You nodded, a frown settling onto your lips. Nothing about this sat right with you, but that was the cost you paid for being here in the first place.

“The important thing is, we located the lab. Now we just make sure there's nobody else so someone else can pick up the mess over here.” He said, making you nod along with him. Price and the other guys would probably be down any minute, that would make clearing everything out a hell of a lot easier.

You looked back at the man on the ground, staring into the fleshy eyes that held no light. You were reminded of the compound, staring into the eyes of the man who had shot Price’s foot. You didn't feel sorry, more hollow.

Ghost turned his back, looking over to the entranceway hall. And the split second for him to turn around was all it took for something to go wrong all over again. With no warning, you felt something burn your side, sharp and hot like lava. A hand yanked you back, snaked around your neck, and held you back to something firm. You could barely choke out a gasp, the thorn in your side sending shocks of pain through your body you didn't even know was possible.

Something cold pressed against your temple, you could barely process what was happening before you heard a click. Ghost whipped around at the noise, immediately holding up his rifle to whatever was behind you.

For a brief moment, time stopped. You were all too familiar with what was happening, you were being held at gunpoint. Nobody moved, Ghost's voice suddenly echoing through the silent room. “Shepard. Let her go.” He said.

You blinked, Shepard? Fuck, you didn't see that coming. You thought maybe he had a small part in the involvement, but you didn't expect him to actually be here. You tried to look at him, but his arm around your throat only tightened, making you squirm. The thing in your side, most likely a knife, only seemed to hurt more the longer it was left sticking out of you.

“Drop your gun, and I will.” His voice was cold, it sounded like sandpaper. His breath made your nostrils recoil in disgust.

Ghost shook his head, his eyes darting between yours and the man holding you. “You and I both know that's not happening.” The barrel of the gun pressed into your skin harder, making you wince. Your hands clawing at his arm to pry him off your neck.

“If you don't drop that gun, I will kill this one. And that's a promise.” He said, your body felt numb, and the lack of oxygen only seemed to make you all the weaker. You heard voices from beyond the hallway, your mind screaming for John. You needed him, you needed him to come and fix the mess you had gotten yourself into. Being a hostage was by far your least favorite activity.

Ghost swallowed, still pointing his gun at Shepard. “Shepherd, it's in your best interest that you let her go. You're not getting out of this, you know that. You shoot her and it’s just another kill added to your list of crimes, let’s not lengthen that sentence.”

Shepard snarled, “I'll be damned if I'm sent to prison, we can do this all-day lieutenant. You pull that trigger, and I fire. If you put the gun down, maybe we can negotiate something.”

You tried gasping for air, your airways closing up. Nails clawing at his shirt, like a caged animal trying to get out of its enclosure. From your squinted eyes you could make out the form of Price, Gaz, and Soap entering the room, guns at the ready. The pain in your side fired back up again as the blade twisted, making you yelp.

“Shepherd put the fucking gun down!” You absentmindedly recognized John's voice, your vision growing fuzzier by the second.

You tried your best to fight, thinking of anything you could to stay conscious. You thought of your friends, family, and John. Between the knife in your side, the gun against your head, and his arms around your throat it was a miracle you could even think. You blinked again, gasping for more air. You saw Ghost and Price, Soap a few feet away, Gaz must've been somewhere in the room as well.

“Get back or she's dead!” Shepard barked, his voice ringing in your ear. You saw blotches of black in your vision, your body slowly losing its feeling.

As you blacked out, you heard a gunshot fire.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A white light flooded your vision, making your face scrunch up in discomfort. It was harsh and almost painful, you tried shutting your eyes as tight as they could go, but it was burned into your retinas.

Your limbs felt sluggish, you couldn't lift your arms. It seemed like you could only move your face, after another minute of trying to shut out the light, you gave up. Blinking your eyes open, you saw said white light hanging down from an even whiter ceiling.

“Holy shit, you're awake.” A female voice said, making you halt. You knew that voice, your eyes darted to the sound. Turing your head from its apparent, laying position to follow your gaze. Your eyes met an older woman, she had bangs and blondish hair.

“Laswell?” You croaked, your voice was shot. It sounded like a frog, making you internally cringe.

Kate Laswell stood at the foot of your bed, her hands grabbed at your arm. “Don’t talk [Name], the nurse said you shouldn't be using your voice for the next couple of days.” She scolded. You grunted, your throat felt as dry as the Sahara.

The pain slowly started to come back, a deep-seated ache that made you wince. “What happened?” You breathed. Your mind was fuzzy, the last thing you remembered was being in the bazaar and being held at gunpoint by Shepherd.

Laswell pursed her lips in a line, obviously not too thrilled about the events that transpired. “Well, John told me after you passed out they managed to disarm Shepard. But by that point, you were already gone, so they got you out. After that, you were transported to the checkpoint base and now you're in the hospital.”

You were following up until the hospital part, last time you checked, the checkpoint base didn't have a full-fledged hospital. “Hospital where?” You croaked, looking at Laswell for an answer.

“D.C,” She said plainly, almost like it was obvious. “It was the easiest place I would be able to keep an eye on you until you woke up.”

You barely had the energy to be surprised, “Oh.” Was what you settled on. “Where is the rest of the team?” You asked.

She sighed, “John is here. Garrick and Ghost are still in Urzik for another day, they have other matters they need to sort out first. Soap also came here with you, though he's not in the hospital.”

You nodded along, a small part of you relaxed when you heard John's name. He was here, which meant he was most likely safe. Your eyes closed, “oh, good then.” You sighed, your voice a whisper. Any louder and it would sound like your vocal cords were being torn to ribbons.

Laswell looked down at you, a sadness in her eyes. Almost guilt, “[Name].” She said, grabbing your attention again, “-I’m pulling you off the team early.”

You froze, your eyes doubling in size. Maybe you misheard her, 141 was your family, she couldn't just pull you off. You still had a few more months with them! “What? Why?” You asked throatily.

She looked at you incredulously, “Because you almost died. Honestly, it was my fault in the beginning, I shouldn't have put you in the situation.” Your eyes narrowed, you tried to sit up but she placed a firm hand on your chest to keep you from doing so.

“Laswell, I’m fine. I don't need to be taken off 141, everyone in the world has probably had a near-death experience.” You protested, “-I want to keep being on the team, I know at first I was only doing this as a favor but I'm not anymore.”

Laswell looked at you, a bit stunned. Her eyes stared into yours, deciphering if you were really telling the truth. “Are you sure? I was only going to do it because I believed that is what’s in your best interest. But are you positive this is what you want? Even after what happened?”

You stared back at her, determined as ever. “I'm positive.”

There was a beat of silence before Laswell sighed, rubbing her face. “Okay,” she breathed. “But you're still not allowed to participate in anything until you're fully healed.” Your demeanor relaxed again, almost sinking into the mattress. It was a win, a small one, but a win nonetheless.

You looked back at her, “You said Price was here right?” You asked, trying your best to hide the eagerness in your tone.

She nodded, “Yes, he's outside. He's been coming with me to check on you.”

You could've run out of bed at that exact moment, from the first minute you'd woken up he was occupying half of your thoughts. “Could I talk to him…?” You asked, trying to disguise your desperation.

Laswell gave you a pointed look, obviously, she knew more than what she was letting on. “You have ten minutes, then I'm pulling him out so you can get more rest.”

You thanked her profusely, waiting in anticipation for John to walk through the door. You shimmied up into a sitting position, trying not to irritate the stitches in your side. After a minute, your captain walked through the door. His hair was a bit tousled, and his beard had been trimmed, but there were large bags under his blue eyes. Clad in an army-green cotton shirt with jeans. He was a sight for sore eyes that was for sure.

After a minute of staring he bolted across the room, enveloping you in a tight embrace. His hand holding the back of your head to his chest and his other arm wrapped around your back. You weakly tried to hug him back, inhaling his scent.

“You have no idea how worried I was.” He breathed, pulling away to get a good look at your face. His hands cupped your jaw like a precious jewel. You smiled, laughing to the best of your ability.

“Well, I'm alive. That's saying something.” You breathed, taking him in. You’d barely spent any time away from him, yet you missed him, you needed his presence like you needed air. “Nobody can kill me that easy, not even Shepard.”

He looked at you, unimpressed by your attitude, “I wouldn't boast your level of confidence for someone in a hospital bed.” He deadpanned. You simply waved him off, but a question popped into your mind before you could say anything.

“Hey, what was Shepherd doing there anyway? I know you mentioned him earlier but I still don't understand why he was involved.” You asked, making him sigh.

John rubbed his neck, leaning back a little from his position. “If I'm being honest? I don't know either, I had a feeling he would be there but I wasn't positive. My best guess would be that he probably got involved with Markov's goons after he went rogue. After they must've teamed with underground gangs to keep tabs on what the CIA was up to.” He looked back at you, “A few people from the inside still had communication with him, that was most likely how we got the tip-off that he was in Urzik.”

You hummed, mostly glad you could put Urzik behind you. It was over and that was all that mattered, “So what happens now?” You asked.

Price raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“What happens now that you caught him?” You clarified. Staring at him curious.

John shrugged, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Well Shepherd is dead, he died during the altercation back in Riyzabbi. As for the team, we go back to normal. A few people who had relations with Shepherd are being tried in international court for unauthorized communication with enemies. But that's it, as far as I know.”

You hummed, letting your eyes flutter shut. Basking in the feel of his thumb against your skin, “Mm, and us…?” You asked, feeling a bit brave.

You felt him halt, “Well, you obviously know we can't exactly be public about this.” You opened your eyes back up to him, “-But, I don't think I can really deny what I feel for you.”

Your lips curled into a warm smile, one that seemed to say ‘I love you.’ John traced the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, ‘I love you’ the gesture said.

“I love you.” You said, unable to hold yourself back from uttering the words any longer.

John smiled, “I love you too.”

Pulling you in for a chaste kiss, you smiled against his lips. Your nose brushed his, his eyelashes tickling your skin.

You were going to be just fine.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Hey, don't go!

Okay first things first, I want to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who liked, commented, reposted, or send me kind messages on my last post. I never thought I would reach 1,000 likes but you guys work miracles! It literally means the world to me.

Second, so sorry for the long wait. I know it was awhile but I’m balancing my classes, social life, and my writing so it gets hectic sometimes. But I appreciate you for having patience in me, I want to ask if you would be so kind as to like, repost, or leave a comment! It really helps, more than you know.

Lastly, you definitely haven’t seen the last of me yet. There is more content coming! It might take a bit but I am working hard to please you ;) and with that I hope you enjoyed Captains Girl Part II, I love you all! Toodles ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀ˋ 💕

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Taglist

@rafaelacallinybbay @nellabear @z03ch4n @evashi @freshlemontea @fanfin-glutton @achbbys000 @glitteryarcadefart @lveegsoi @hippopotamusdreamer @matixity @eternallyvenus @simplyymee98 @pinkfqiry @fraserbraw @gibbsgirl7 @blackhawkfanatic @thecursebreaker @scaryplanetdestroyer @spicyspicyliving @locker-130 @moranguito0 @whos-fran @whisperwispxx @slut-lmao @thriving-n-jiving @nexthyperfix @juliat398 @ninaak @sleepyghxul @ravenmoore14 @angelicccdesire

So sorry if you weren’t tagged and you wanted to be, some of the usernames weren’t showing up!

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Part I of… Captains Girl: ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Thank you

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

132 notes · View notes

scrunglepaws · 1 day ago

Note

"I come from a big family; lots of siblings. Too many to talk about individually without taking all your time, so I'll just pick a few. Hmm... I suppose I'll start off with the eldest, Silas. I think he was about the best big brother someone could have. Strong, protective, loyal, kind-hearted. I looked up to him a lot as a little kid. Now that we're both grown, I find him a bit tiresome. Er- not for any bad reasons, though! It's just that his mannerisms have changed ever since he set out to sea. Sailors must be a rowdy bunch because he's just so loud and boisterous anymore. Between him, his wife, and his flock of kids; it's just a LOT of chaos to deal with all at once. Saps the energy right out of me, you know? He's a good person though, and a better son than me. He supports his family and is able to regularly send money to our parents, too. Still helping out with the farm even after he left! I'm happy for his success."

"Out of all my siblings, I spent the most time with Nine. We're pretty close in age and just sort of ended up being more of the oddballs in the family. I was because of, uh, my interest in magic… And having two tails… But Nine was sort of outlandish on purpose. Because she was the youngest, she often felt overshadowed and wanted to stand out. She's a girl? Well then, she doesn't want anything to do with femininity. She's named Nina? That's boring; she'll come up with her own name. No one likes to hang out with Tails? Well then, she will! Eh… heheh… Eh… It was nice to have one sibling to confide in and share secrets with now and then. I even told her about how I was baffled by romance and never wanted to marry. Instead of calling me weird, she made a pact with me to never get married either! Well… Until she met that girl, Fiona, and they started dating, but… It's fine. She's not beholden to some dumb promise we made when she was 12. We mostly drifted apart when I moved out anyway."

"Nowadays I'm not particularly close with any of my siblings. Or my parents. Growing up, I was more likely to keep to myself. It's um, sort of embarrassing, but I was kind of afraid of my family? I'd get this from everyone now and again, but my two older brothers especially liked to say that I was actually a changeling. You know, that their real brother was replaced as an infant by a spriggan, leaving behind me: a changeling. A… Fae creature. They said that Mother and Father would find me out soon enough and abandon me in the forest, back where I belong. Or that they'd beat me so I'd confess my origin and return the "real" Miles. Apparently my parents left my older brother, Manny, in the forest when they suspected him of the same thing, but he proved himself by making his way back home. C-Clearly just things they made up! A-And I don't have nightmares about it now that I'm grown… But, uh… I am ashamed to admit that I purposefully never really spent time with Manny because of that. I just- I didn't want to give them any more reasons to suspect me. He was a very strange kid, even to me. I regret never trying to understand him. I think maybe… We might have had a lot in common. And not because of anything to do with fae."

For characters!

If any of you have family, what's your family relationship like?

More character questions!!

#he still has nightmares #folklore au #miles tails prower #sails tails #tails nine #mangey tails #yes the butthead bully foxes are his siblings too in this. he has MANY OF THEM that I won't draw/mention xD #I spent way. WAY too long on this for absolutely no reason fkslfjsld #sonic au collision

295 notes · View notes

moonlightwonu · 3 days ago

Text

문준휘 // Wen Junhui [Jun] Fic Recsᡣ𐭩

다이어리 체크해 놓은 아이러니한 내 마음~

Main Recs Masterlist

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~

“Shut Up” by @onlymingyus

Fem!reader || mob boss au, smut, angst, fluff || W.C: 35.9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ You think you know about the world around you, but one day you find out you don't know anything. When you start to fall about it's your boss Wen Junhui who picks up the pieces and keeps you safe.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“False Pretenses” by @papermatisse

Fem!reader || regency au, angst, fluff || W.C: 19.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Wen Junhui was the epitome of perfection. Tall, handsome, intelligent, kind, a gentleman, and the list goes on for miles on end. So it is only expected that this man of everyone's dreams was regrettably taken already, right? Betrothed to another, and so condemned from being pursued by any other? But what's to happen if he himself begins the pursuit with another?

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Remember Us” by @viastro

[Series] || Fem!reader || meteor garden inspired au, slice of life, angst, fluff, humour, suggestive || Parts: 31 || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･it’s been four years since you last saw jun, and you made it a mission to block out all your memories with him. it worked, until you ran into him on your first day at university, finding out that he’s one of the four most sought after bachelors on campus.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Love, Actually” by @haet-sal

Fem!reader || single dad au, office romance, smut, angst, pining || W.C: 11k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You’re the wide-eyed, clueless-but-on-top secretary to Wen Junhui, and it all starts, with one new year’s kiss… well, new year’s fuck. Mr. Wen likes you. It should have been obvious, whenever he seemed to forgive your inadequate work ethics and frequent unfailing mishaps, and how much he trusted you, no matter how many mistakes you made, how much he hated hearing about your life with your boyfriend… and what kind of boss goes shopping for their employee, privately, anyway?

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“What’s My Age Again?” by @milfgyuu

Fem!reader || friends to lovers, fluff, crack, humour, smut || W.C: 8.9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Wen Junhui is sort of a dumbass but he’s your dumbass and you’ve come to realize that you like him just the way he is.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“The Sea Is Yours To Take” by @wavesmp3

Fem!reader || royalty au, high fantasy, romance, slowburn || W.C: 36k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･The Seven Sins and the Seven Gifts of the Spirit are warriors, exceptionally skilled in fighting, and they’re all dead. That is, all except you, The Gift of Fortitude. It’s an uneasy time in the kingdom with eastern Lords and northern bandits threatening a rebellion. You feel that it’s your duty to try and maintain peace within the kingdom. But when the King sends you away for an act of treason, you aren’t sure how much you can do so far away from home. And it certainly doesn’t help that Jun, the southern Lord of the estate you’ve been sent to, seems to hate your guts.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“The First Circle Of Hell” by @lovelyhan

Vampire au, reincarnation, angst, smut || Parts: 2 || Total W.C: 11.7k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･the first time you catch a glimpse of jun, you feel like you’ve seen him somewhere before. a magazine cover, a billboard, or a music show you watched in passing. jun, on the other hand, seems to know you a lot better than you know yourself.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Amateur Hour” by @junkissed

Fem!reader || camboy au, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, smut, fluff || W.C: 8.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･the most awkward encounter of your life might just end up being the best thing you and your best friend have ever done together.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Ocean View” by @junkissed

Fem!reader || soulmate au, strangers to lovers, romance, smut || W.C: 8.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･an all expenses paid trip to greece for your friend's wedding seems too good to be true, but it gets even better when you meet a handsome stranger on the beach. with the help of a mysterious old lady, her magic deck of tarot cards, and one too many coincidences, you're starting to believe things really do happen for a reason.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Vampire Kisses” by @horanghaejamjam

Fem!reader || vampire au, slight rivals to lovers, smut, fluff || W.C: 16.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･He is the head of the Wen family, the highest ranking family of vampires in the country. You are a mere human sold to them for the purpose of being his mate and bride. Jun is determined to win your heart before you wed, and perhaps a few playful kisses are the key to doing that.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Because I Love You” by @chocosvt

Uni au, secret relationship, fluff, light angst, spice || W.C: 8.1k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you’re friends with junhui - but also, not really. it’s friends and a little bit more than that. it’s difficult keeping your relationship a secret, especially when you’ve never loved someone the way you love him.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Sounds of The Season” by @junekissed

Fem!reader || College au, fluff, smut, humour || Parts: 2 || Total W.C: 9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･when your university’s radio show hosts a matchmaking event to raise money, you figure, what have you got to lose? the question you should be asking is, what have you got to gain?

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Psycho” by @wheeboo

Gn!reader || dark au, psychological thriller, mystery, angst, tiny fluff || W.C: 12.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･in which a new patient is assigned for treatment under your care, and you begin to put the puzzles and pieces together to a past case that you thought to have ceased away from your mind.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Pulse Points” by @wheeboo

Gn!reader || uni au, classmates to lovers, fluff, humour || W.C: 15.9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Being the TA for your anatomy class has always been really rewarding, especially stemming in your passion for the medical field. But as it’s approaching the peak of the school semester and labs have gotten more intense, you aren’t surprised to be dedicating your time to tutoring your strangely handsome, dorky, yet enigmatic classmate during after school hours — and reassuring him how to not be afraid of dissections.

Please let me know if the links have any problems~

81 notes · View notes

babyfoxflower · 2 days ago

Text

The Hunter and the Hunted

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader

*Disclaimer: This story is an AU and does not follow Hellaverse canon. Alastor is pretty much just a hetero, if this offends you in anyway, then I suggest you block me and go on your way.*

Synopsis: This the story of Alastor and the love of his life, his huntress, the charming Y/n Rosier. A rare beauty out on the bayou, his heart is instantly stolen by her. He’ll do anything for his beloved, even if that includes murder.

Story Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Violence, Blood, Hunting, Murder, Mentions of Child Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, 1920s Attitudes Towards Women

Chapter Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Mentions of Child Abuse, Alastor drugs his mom so he and Y/n can fool around, Mentions of Masturbation, Reader has small tits but Al loves them, Dry Humping

Prev Chapter Four next chapter

“Lunch is ready, dears!” Mrs. Hartfelt called from the kitchen, “Alastor, love, come help me set up the dining table!”

“Coming, Mother!” He replied, “I’ll be right back,” he told Y/n.

“I can help too.”

“Please, you’re our guest. All you have to do is relax,” he gave her a lighthearted smile.

“Oh, alright,” she returned the smile.

“I’ll come get you when the table is ready,” he lightly kissed her hand before leaving to help his mother.

Y/n fidgeted her fingers.

I’m not used to relaxing. I’m usually the one cooking and setting up the table. This is strange. Wait, do I actually like doing the house work? Or is it just that I’m so used to it that I can’t even fathom not doing it?

Alastor entered the kitchen, “Smells delicious.”

“I didn’t have time to buy shrimp, so I used that one recipe that calls for venison instead. You think she’ll like it?”

“I’m sure, she’ll love it. Nobody cooks better than you, Momma,” he gave her a reassuring smile.

“Hm, why are you being so sweet all of a sudden? You two necking in there or something?”

“Haha. I’m just in a good mood. I’m having lunch with my two favorite people.”

His mother raised an eyebrow, “Okay, lover boy, go set the plates and utensils on the table.”

———————————————————————

As soon as Y/n took that first bite of Mrs. Hartfelt’s jambalaya, she didn’t want to stop.

“Oh my! This is the best jambalaya I’ve ever had,” Y/n exclaimed.

Mrs. Hartfelt seemed relieved, “I’m glad you like it, I was worried you wouldn’t since it’s not a traditional jambalaya recipe.”

“No, I love venison. I never would have thought to put in jambalaya but it’s delicious!”

Alastor had the biggest grin on his face, “We’re big on venison in this house.”

“Would you like the recipe?” Mrs. Hartfelt asked Y/n.

“Oh, yes please. My little sisters would love this,” Y/n replied.

“I’ll write up a copy for you to take home, dear.”

“Thank you so much, Claudine!”

“Don’t even mention it. Tell me what are your little sisters like? I adore children.”

“They can be a handful at times, but they’re good girls.”

“You should see them, Mother, they’re very cute and so polite. They’re definitely being raised right,” Alastor chimed in before smiling at Y/n.

“They must be, if they won you over,” Mrs. Hartfelt said to Alastor, “Alastor usually isn’t fond of kids, even when he was one. How old are they?”

“Annalise, the oldest, is ten. She’s an intelligent one, always gets good marks in school. Then there’s Marie, who’s seven. She can be real trouble maker. And then there’s Louise, who’s five. She daydreams a lot and I often wonder what’s going on in her little mind.”

“You speak of them as if they’re your own,” Mrs. Hartfelt smiled.

“They might as well be,” Y/n gave a small smile.

———————————————————————

Y/n looked outside of the window; the storm that had started during lunch gave no indication of slowing down any time soon.

I wonder if my sisters are alright. Hopefully they made it home before the storm.

Alastor stood next to her, “Would you look at that, there’s no way you can walk home in this weather.”

“It’s fine, I can make it home. I have to,” she replied.

He was about to protest when his mother chimed in.

“Nonesense! You’ll catch your death out there! You’ll just have to stay here until the storm passes.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I need to get home and start making dinner for my family,” Y/n turned to Mrs. Hartfelt.

Mrs. Hartfelt shook her head, “I can’t allow you to leave until it’s safe. Think of it this way, if you get sick then you won’t be able to care for your family.”

Alastor took Y/n’s hand in his, “It’ll be alright, my dear. Annalise is a smart girl, I’m sure she’ll be able to manage,” he smiled reassuringly.

Besides there’s no way in hell I’m letting you leave this house right now.

“Alright, thank you so much for your hospitality,” Y/n gave in.

———————————————————————

“Here you go, dear,” Mrs. Hartfelt handed Y/n one of her nightgowns, “Hm, you’re a petite little thing, aren’t you? It might be too big.”

“It’s fine, thank you,” Y/n smiled.

“You’re welcome, Sweetheart! Follow me, I’ll show you to the guest bedroom.”

Y/n followed her up the stairs and down the hallway to the very last room on the right. Mrs. Hartfelt pulled a ring of keys from one of the pockets in her apron. She unlocked the door and opened it.

“Well, there you are, my dear. Now, Alastor’s room is right across from this one,” she pointed to door on the left side of the hall, “So, if you need anything, you can ask him. Also, the first door on the right is the bathroom, alright?”

So, Alastor will be sleeping right across from me? Hehe, I wonder how deep he sleeps?

“Thank you so much, Claudine! You’re very kind for letting me stay the night,” Y/n said.

“Of course! Now, I’ll leave you be. Good night, Y/n.”

“Good night.”

Y/n stepped into the room, turned on the lamp, and closed the door behind her. The room had a canopy bed, a dresser, a vanity, and floor length mirror. She took off her shoes and stepped out of her dress.

She carefully folded it and placed it on the dresser. Next came off her pink slip, her garters and stockings, and finally her brassiere. She stood there, staring at herself in the mirror.

The scar from the time her father cut her stomach with a knife ever present on her otherwise smooth skin. She fingered it and winced. Whenever she touched it, she swore she could still feel the cold blade slicing into her flesh. The pain still very much fresh in her mind.

“Will you still think I’m beautiful when you see this?”

She snapped out of whatever trance she was in and pulled the white long sleeved nightgown over her head. It reached down to her ankles, but it probably only reached to Mrs. Hartfelt’s calves. It was also slightly loose in the shoulders, but it would have to do.

Meanwhile, Alastor was washing the dishes in the kitchen while his mother came in.

He smiled, “Well, what do you think of her?”

“She’s a sweet girl. Pretty, good even temperament. I like her,” his mother replied.

“That’s wonderful! I knew you’d like her. She’s a peach, isn’t she? A real Southern Belle,” He exclaimed.

She laughed, “It’s also cute how you gush over her. Is she your girlfriend yet?”

“Not yet, I’m still in the midst of wooing her,” he half joked.

While it wasn’t exactly formal courting, he was waiting the perfect time to ask her to be his girlfriend.

“I don’t think you have to do much wooing, I see the way she looks at you and how you look at her. You too are quite smitten with each other.”

Alastor didn’t say anything, continuing to wash and dry the dishes.

“Oh, Honey, will do me a favor? Get my sleeping drops and put them in a cup of water for me. I have to go make sure the doors and windows are shut tight so the water doesn’t get in the house.”

“Sure,” he replied, putting the last of the dishes away.

“Thank you, love! And remember, only three drops. More than that and I won’t be able to get up early.”

“Three drops. Understood,” he smiled at her.

She ruffled his hair affectionately before going to do her task.

Alastor poured a glass of water and then got out his mother’s sleeping drops. He put the first two drops in before an intriguing idea popped into his head.

If I just put in a drop or two more, Mother might sleep more soundly. Then Y/n and I can…have a little fun.

He squeezed the next drop in. Before putting the fourth in, he wondered if this would actually be a good idea.

It’s not as if she’ll die or anything that serious.

In went another drop.

And then another one.

Five drops were now in his mother’s cup.

“That should do it. Sleep well, Momma,” he said to himself before putting the bottle up.

His mother came back into the kitchen, “Ah, thank you kindly, Darling!”

“You’re very welcome, Mother,” he grinned as he handed her the cup.

He kissed her cheek, “Good night.”

“Good night,” she replied before heading off to bed, taking a few swigs along the way.

———————————————————————

Alastor knocked on the guest bedroom door, “Are you still awake, babydoll?”

“Just a second, pretty boy,” replied Y/n.

Soon the door swung open, “I’ve been waiting for you, Sugar.”

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. But the good news is my mother should be out for the count right about now,” he lifted her up, carrying her bridal style to his room.

“Are you sure she won’t be waking up anytime soon?”

“Quite sure, I slipped her a few extra sleeping drops,” he chuckled.

“Ah, good ol’ sleeping drops,” she laughed.

He laid her down on his bed, a double bed with a nice wooden frame. He crawled on top of her, making sure to be the one to steal a kiss this time. She sighed contentedly as those familiar soft lips were back on hers. Wet kissing noises filled the room mixed with tender moans, lips moving in sync with one another.

“I didn’t…get to…tell you this before,” she said.

“Yes?”

“You’re really good at this.”

“Thanks, I’ve never done this with anyone before,” he bragged humbly.

“Really? Me neither.”

Alastor peppered little kisses along her jaw, before nibbling on her earlobe.

Y/n bite down on her lip, “Ooo…ah! That feels…amazing!”

He grinned, licking the shell of her ear.

“You know…I’m so glad you…came to my room. I was getting pretty lonely without you.”

“Really? How lonely, my dear?” He whispered in her ear.

“Well, before you came knocking, I was…oh I shouldn’t say it!” She turned away.

“Now you have to tell me,” he made her look at him, “or we can just go to bed?”

She knew from the sounds of it, that was an order, not a request.

“It’s so unladylike! But if I must tell you, I was…touching myself,” she said with the most innocent look in her eyes.

That should get him all riled up. Hehe.

She was what? Oh dear lord, this woman’s gonna be the death of me.

“Is that so? Hmm, you’re naughtier than I thought you were, Darling…I like that,” he licked his lips, “Do you often play with yourself?”

“Every night, since I met you. I find my hands wandering around my body. Touching, stroking, squeezing…I pretend they’re your hands and I cry out your name,” she got right into his ear, “Alastor!”

His eyes darkened with lust, “Well, then that’s something we have in common, our nightly routine.”

“You don’t think I’m a slut then?”

“No, no! Ma chérie, I could never think of you in such a degrading way. You’re not a slut, you’re my naughty girl,” he planted kisses on the crook of her neck.

“Oh, I like that. Call me that again please?” She smiled, blushing.

“What? My naughty girl? My naughty little girl who gets off to the thought of me,” he smirked, lightly sucking on her neck.

She giggled and moaned.

She started to finger one of the buttons on his shirt, “If you take this off, I’ll take off this nightgown.”

He gave her a sultry grin as he began unbuttoning his shirt, “You have yourself a deal, little lady.”

She watched him with eager anticipation, rubbing her thighs together.

As the final button came undone, her eyes lit up, “You’re gorgeous, Sugar. Absolutely gorgeous.”

His face flushed as he tossed his shirt to the floor.

He was gorgeous with his broad shoulders, perfect pecs, toned biceps, and six pack abs. He had a few light patches of hair on his chest and a sexy happy trail.

She placed her small hand on his chest and let it run down towards his lower stomach.

He gently took hold of it, pressing a few little kisses on her wrist, “Your turn, Baby. Though, I already know for a fact that every part of you is utterly enchanting.”

That’s no lie either, my dear. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.

She blushed under his lustful gaze, slowly lifting the borrowed nightgown.

I hope I live up to your expectations. But this ugly scar…

Now it was his eyes lighting up, “You are ravishing, Darling.”

He kissed her stomach before she even got the item of clothing off, causing her shudder, heat pooling in her knickers.

Finally it was off, and he kissed his way up to her breasts. They were small and pretty.

“I know that they’re not big but I hope they still please you…” she shyly whispered.

“What on earth are you talking about, my dear!? Your bubs are perfect. They’re perky and pretty. They also fit nicely in my hands,” he gave them a few soft squeezes.

She moaned his name, “Oh Alastor…”

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled into a passionate kiss. Their mouths practically devoured each other. Y/n suddenly felt Alastor’s tongue on her bottom lip, begging for entry. She obliged, slightly smiling as she parted her lips for him. Their tongues met, swirling around each other. He groaned softly as she began rub her clothed crotch against his.

His cock was already hard, but thanks to her gyrations, it somehow hardened even more. He wrapped her leg around his waist as he copied her motions. Together they found a rhythm.

Every time he grind against her, the head of his covered member stroked her clit.

“Th…that feels…amazing! Don’t stop, Sugar,” Y/n cried out, running her hands over his muscular back.

Alastor smirked at her flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips, “Don’t worry, I didn’t plan on stopping, babydoll.”

The skin on his back felt different than the rest of his body.

These feel like scars. They go all the way down his back. Is he…is he like me?

He started kissing her behind her ear, making his way down to her pretty little neck, sucking and nipping gently at it. She couldn’t stop sighing and gasping from the pleasure. Her sweet little voice was getting higher and higher.

It wasn’t long until she started to feel that familiar tingling sensation from head to toe. She shuddered as she came undone, her knickers soaked. Her face twisted in ecstasy.

“You look and sound so cute when you climax,” he praised, gently kissing her lips.

He could feel his release coming as well, “Seems as though I’m not far from mine…Fuck.”

She gasped, that was the first time she ever heard him curse. Y/n cupped his face with her little hands, “I want to see the face you make.”

Alastor chuckled, his breath heavy. He put his forehead to hers. His movements became sloppier as he was chasing his own high now.

Just a few more short thrusts and he came in his pants. His eyes nearly rolled back, face flushed and mouth agape.

They panted together, faces covered in sweat. She smiled up at him and he smiled down at her.

He’s so pretty.

She’s so pretty.

Alastor gave her a tender kiss on her forehead, brushing her hair out her face.

He got off of her and picked up the nightgown, “Arms up.”

She giggled and raised her arms. He pulled the nightgown over her head, helping her get dressed. He took a pause for a second as he looked down at her stomach.

How on earth did I miss that!?

“What happened here, Sweetheart?” He asked in a concerned tone, running his finger gently over the scar on her stomach.

“What happened to your back? I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.”

Taglist 🏷️: @chibistar45 @ghostofajinx @girl-math-aint-mathing @91062854-ka @harmfulb1tch @2dmenforme @ladyadrasteia666 @uniquecutie-puffs @vxllys @wendds @alastorsgirl48 @xghostnuggsx @alastorthirsty @boldlyenchantingfox22

#alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor smut #human alastor x reader #human alastor x female reader #human alastor x y/n #human alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut

83 notes · View notes

grlsbstshot · 2 days ago

Text

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters): Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Story Synopsis:

R&B singer/songwriter, Jameson Lucas, is well known as a charming playboy. The latest in his line of ‘loved em and left em’ behavior? Imani St. Cirie, an emotive singer/songwriter herself. A common sense pulls them in opposite directions – friendships are tested, old flames resurface, and new opportunities threaten to tear them apart for good. In this industry, dreams can make or break you – but what happens when love becomes the gamble of a lifetime?

Chapter Synopsis: Jameson deals with being denied access to his heart's desire and flashes back to the start of their romance while Imani wrestles with her feelings present day. Warnings: Smut (18+), toxic relationship, possessiveness, profanity, usage of the n-word (if you're white and read it, you owe us $20), manual stimulation (fingering, okay?), dick size mention, dirty talk -- if we missed anything, let us know! Word Count: 5.3k Divider Template: @cafekitsune Notes: The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

There will be alternating POVs between our leads.

CHAPTER TWO: Someone to Love

he was blocked. jameson watched his repeated texts and calls go unanswered. the texts said delivered but never read. this was when he was supposed to decide if he was going to stick around for another round of bullshit with her. flashes of the night before came to mind...and he knew the answer was 'yes'. she was ignoring the fuck out of him but he knew imani loved him. she may be able to live without him...but she loved him. maybe that would be enough. "yo, are you listening to me?"

jameson blinked at his best friend, giving the man a blank stare. ellington dupree had been his friend and writing partner for damn near a decade. their connection was instant. where jameson was blessed with a wealthy and well-known mother, ellington had gotten it out the mud. he was a man that knew music inside out all his life. he had a work ethic that jameson envied. it was why he only produced music with ej -- they balanced each other out. where he allowed muse to take over, ej controlled the music. he didn't let it control him. even now, they were supposed to be working on a track from his new album but jameson couldn't seem to find his focus. all he did was wait for imani to call him back.

"yeah, i heard you." "then what i say?"

he gave ellington a glare before rising from his spot on the couch. "something about the horns." ellington tsked, kicking back in his chair before shaking his head. "i said that shit ten minutes ago, nigga. we on a whole nother track. what's up with you?"

jameson didn't answer -- instead he redirected his attention to his phone, texting imani again as he exited his friend's home studio. he heard ej calling his name but descended the stairs anyway.

he watched as another text went through and the message popped up delivered. jameson rolled his eyes, tossing his phone onto the couch as he stared at the ceiling with his hands on his hips. this girl was going drive him crazy.

"are you insane?" "i'm not in the mood right now, e." "yeah, no shit. but you need to get in the mood for something other than imani. YOU wanted to release this album at the top of the year. YOU said you were ready so they've already started promoting the shit."

he lifted his head to deny that he was stressing over imani but the realization hit him hard. "how the fuck you know i was texting mani?" jameson watched as ej rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable on the couch. "how the fuck wouldn't i know? you always get tense and weird over her. it's been a while since she had you fucked up like this though. what happened?"

jameson sighed, closing his eyes to avoid the look on his friend's face when he confessed the truth. he sat down opposite ej and leaned back onto the cushions.

"we fucked." "bullshit." "it's true." "WHEN?!" "last week." "i thought she was dating...what's that nigga name? the football nigga!" "they broke up two months ago." "how the fuck you know that?" jameson gave ej a look and avoided the obvious answer. "oh, you are insane." "it was random. we didn't plan that shit." "she probably didn't." "and what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" "fuck it sound like?"

his eyes opened as he frowned at ej. if anyone had seen how bad it could get between he and imani, it was ej. "i didn't go over there to have sex, man. i just...i wanted to see her. i've missed her all this time. i just couldn't take that shit anymore."

a flash of sympathy crossed his best friend's face but it disappeared within a moment. "don't do this, jamie. don't. you can't walk down this road with imani again."

ej was probably right, jameson knew that. but he also knew that he wasn't walking away from her again. he glanced over at the phone that he abandoned, willing it to ring or beep or something. anything to let him know she gave a shit. "can't help it." he murmured to his best friend. "i want her."

this was the biggest night of his life...and he found that he didn't care. his gaze was stuck on a woman who had walked past him. none of this shit really mattered anymore. he wanted to know her. he had a tony award. he had two grammys already. he was nominated for another three that night but as he leaned over in his seat to watch her saunter down the rest of the aisle, jameson found himself smiling for entirely different reasons.

"i want her." he said bluntly. only ej acknowledged him. he said 'huh?' but his gaze followed her the same way jameson's had. 'ohhhh' was all he uttered, giving a laugh.

she had her back to them so he had no idea who the hell she was but he had the urge to. four awards from his own and he wasn't watching the stage. he wasn't talking to his collaborators or friends to the right of him. he was watching her. a couple of people rose to let her into her seat and jameson found himself doing the same. he stood to his feet, adjusting his tux's jacket as he made his way towards her.

ej called his name but he didn't respond. this was more important. he got to the aisle and dropped to his haunches, learning forward to catch her eye. he recognized her then. imani. there were people next to her who peered over at him in confusion but jameson's smile was only for her.

"excuse me." he said softly, bracing his hands against the seat next to him. she looked at him, eyebrow quirked at his audacity to interrupt her conversation. "hi. i just...i'm sorry. i just wanted to come tell you something you already know. you're the most beautiful woman i've ever seen in my life."

if she recognized him or was impressed by his attention, it didn't show on her face. jameson watched her give a little laugh and haughtily respond. "thank you." she said. "how many other women have you used that on tonight?"

"none." he replied honestly. "i saw you and next thing i know, i'm over here practically on my knees to talk to you." jameson ignored the woman next to imani clearing her throat. it was a public conversation but he carried it on as if they were the only two in the room. free from a relationship that had lost it's fire, jameson hadn't been looking for anybody. he wanted to invest in his career again and after two hit albums -- it was time for something new. money, cars, clothes, and women had been his life since he was eighteen and old enough to spread the thighs of any and every woman in hollywood. he'd been over it. but this was important. getting this girl felt like it'd be life changing.

he leaned forward, offering the woman his hand. "i'm jameson." he surprised himself by giving his full name. often, he introduced himself as james. nobody actually in his life called him jameson but his mother. he had the urge to hear his name from her lips. "i know who you are, ms. imani st. cirie. future best new artist winner." her eyes lit up at the fact that he had recognized her. she hadn't topped the charts yet but he knew it was a matter of time. her music was raw. real. she touched people and he knew her time was coming.

when she took his hand, he brushed his thumb against the back of her fingertips. the people they had their hands stretched across didn't matter. hell, he had forgotten other people could hear them when she responded. "nice to meet you jameson." she said. "you can call me ms. st. cirie. your face looks so familiar. i just can't put my finger on it."

jameson laughed out loud -- loud enough that people on the aisle in front of them turned to identify the sound. he'd been famous from birth. paparazzi shots of him hanging off his mother's hip had been tagged in people magazine. pictures of them at the park. his high school yearbook had been blasted across myspace and twitter. and when he started making music himself? well, he became a teen heartthrob at 19. he didn't believe her but he liked that she didn't fall over him. "that's strange." he replied with a shrug, slowly grinning at her. "but since you can't remember, maybe this is your chance to get to know me...personally. i'll be honest, ms. st. cirie -- i'm dying to get to know you."

her gaze roamed his face but her lips curved into a smile. "and why should i do that?"

"i heard i'm a good time." "and this is where the line of women come in, yes?" "we're not talking about other women. we're talking about you and me, ms. st. cirie."

imani gave her friend a look and the friend automatically rose, shifting down a seat. her gaze came back to him and she nodded her head, wordlessly giving him approval to sit next to her. jameson rose from his position at the end of the aisle, ignoring the ache in his calves and thighs. he'd been squatting for so long but hadn't noticed it. all he saw was the fact that he was making strides towards what he wanted.

"you don't feel this thing between us?" he asked her curiously. somehow, he had sat without losing contact with her for longer than a few seconds. he switched the positioning, holding her hand in his right. she tsked, yanking her hand from his grasp and shook her head. "i don't feel anything. i just think you're funny."

jameson leaned towards her, keeping his voice low enough so that it would take others effort to eavesdrop on their conversation. "i could tell you shit you already know. that you're the most beautiful woman i've ever seen. that i want you so bad i don't really know what to do with myself. would that help? i want you. and from the way you look at me, i think you want me too. so what are we going to do about it?"

"that was a good line, jameson." "i'm not giving you lines. i'm trying to get you where you need to be." "need to be?" "definitely." "you so fucking cocky." "i got reason to be. ms. st. cirie...will you go out with me?" "you don't give up, do you?" "no. not easily."

he could tell that she liked that. despite giving him a hell of a lot of attitude, her fingers fidgeted nervously on her lap. she either liked him or didn't know how to say no. jameson reached for her hand again, gently stilling her fingertips. she didn't seem alarmed or afraid then. she relaxed before meeting his gaze.

"no pressure. i think you're beautiful. i admire your mind. your music. your talent. give me one chance to show you that." determined to not miss out on the good thing sitting right next to him, jameson did his best to show her he was serious...but he took a risk and lowered his head, pressing a kiss to her thumb -- the first contact between them that wasn't totally innocent.

his gaze flickered up to hers and he knew he had her. she went soft, leaning in as if she were going to let him kiss her -- but she remembered where they were. "And the Grammy for Best R&B Performance goes to...U Don't Have to Call! James Lucas!"

jameson didn't move from his seat. he didn't take his eyes off her. imani looked between him and the stage, expecting him to go up but he didn't. this was more important. eventually, ej got up. his best friend gave the speech that jameson likely would have given but he didn't hear the words. imani leaned closer so he could near her, whispering "okay. one date." against his ear.

jameson smiled, turning his head to offer imani a kiss. not even twenty minutes after meeting and he was going for it. he had always been an ambitious man. just as he hoped, she took him up on the offer. she leaned in and their lips met. it was brief but served as the spark that ignited their obsession with each other.

it took two whole weeks for their schedules to line up. photoshoots, interviews, and a sudden trip to new york had kept him from what he really wanted. anticipation had been a bitch but they filled the time in between with texts and phone calls. he had discovered that imani was both smart and funny. she could make him burst out laughing over the smallest thing. she seemed to be a good person and that appealed to him. he seemed to really be into this girl. so much so that he browsed her instagram, constantly looking for things she liked. what flowers she enjoyed. people she liked having conversation with. knowing little things about her had spiraled into wanting to know everything about her. he was down so bad that ej had been disgusted when he walked into studio in the middle of the night and caught him giggling on the phone with her like a teenager.

finally, they got to see each other again. standing alone in the vastness of the getty museum, he and imani kept their fingertips intertwined. the only sounds were the soft echo of their footsteps on polished floors. The museum had been closed for the night, but the director had made an exception just for them — a private tour. No crowds, no distractions. Just the two of them and all the art they'd agreed to pretend they were paying attention to. jameson's kept straying to her. everything about her was mesmerizing. the way her hair fell into her eyes, the cute little way she'd snuggled into him when he hugged her when he met her outside. the sweet way she swung their hands as they walked. he was gone over this girl and didn't know what to do about it.

“so,” she said, breaking the silence with a teasing tone, “you go to museums all the time or is this just to impress me?”

he glanced around, his eyes glinting with amusement. “it's all for you. you got me stalking your instagram to see what you like. i saw you went to several museums around the world so..." he shrugged, looking at her to see she was surprised at what he'd said. “but what do you like?” she asked him. jameson laughed. "you." he answered easily enough.

she fell silent again as they continued on. the views of los angeles almost as magnificent as the art. they entered a gallery that seemed to be a study in light and shadow, with large, dramatic sculptures. he was comfortable even in the silence with her. felt like they were the only people in the world, the art surrounding them like a secret they were sharing, just the two of them.

“i think i like you too.” imani said softly. her tone didn't hold the same teasing as before. she was serious. jameson dipped his head to get a good look at her and stopped walking to face her. "why do you sound so sad when you say that?"

"because i don't know if i can trust you." imani said softly. jameson couldn't promise to be the picture of fidelity. he'd cheated once before in a relationship but that didn't seem to be the best thing to say to a woman you wanted to be with. "you can trust how i feel about you. i swear -- i have never felt like this in my life. you got me kicking my feet and twirling my hair and shit, girl. i got it bad." she gave him a short laugh, shaking her head, but he was pleased to see her smile again. "you gave me a chance for a date now give me a chance to show you that i want to be your man."

"my man? you moving kind of fast, ain't you?" "hell yeah. i'm trying to lock you down before a billionaire prince pull up on you out of nowhere." "you can't compete with a billionaire?" "absolutely not. i can't buy you a private island." "then what good are you?" "i can sing. i'm good looking. i give good dick. which reason work for you?"

"boy, bye!" imani pulled away, laughing abruptly as she waved him off. jameson followed closely, not wanting her to go too far from him. "where you going?" he asked her, holding on to her hand. imani snorted, pointing at the art across the room. "over there because you playing!" jameson's laughter echoed through the space and joined hers as she tried to shake him off. "nahhhh. come play with me over here."

her smile deepened, a challenge flickering in her eyes. "i'll play with you later." jameson stepped closer to her, pulling her close. "i'ma hold you to that." even in heels, she stood a few inches shorter than he was. he couldn't get over how fucking beautiful she was. pretty ass dark brown eyes. pretty ass nose that lead down to full, gorgeous lips. he couldn't even think about her body. he liked everything about this girl and acting like he didn't wasn't possible.

his hand moved to the small of her back, fingertips splayed as he kept her body against his. "you hungry?" imani nodded her head, her hands braced against his shoulders. jameson moved them side to side, swaying even though there was no music playing. "i got you. let me take care of you."

they ate dinner in the museum, specially made by a private chef --totally surrounded by art. jameson was pleased to see that she was excited. he was just as giddy. imani sat on his lap as they traded stories about work, their inspirations, and what they each wanted out of a relationship. they found they had several things in common -- big things and little things. family relationships, foods, even their favorite Disney movie. it was all the same. jameson wasn't the type to believe in love at first sight but he really did start to wonder if god put this woman in his life for a reason.

they left holding hands. he let her slide into his benz, intent on driving her home to complete an evening of being the perfect gentleman. the drive to her malibu home was filled with jokes, conversation, and singing along to songs on the radio. the tension between them remained but it was joined by comfort. they were truly starting to understand each other.

by the time they arrived to her place, he had made up his mind. he was going to give it all he had. he liked imani st. cirie -- and hopefully, she liked him too.

the warmth of the car enveloped them as jameson slid to a stop in front of her home. the chemistry between them made saying goodbye difficult. he didn't want to say goodnight to her. jameson turned the car off, attempting to gather his thoughts. he didn't want the last thing he said to her to be stupid. when he turned to say something -- he found imani was already staring.

it was like they moved at the same time. he unbuckled his seatbelt and before he could say a word, she had done the same. the world outside faded away as he damn near crowded her in the passenger seat. he could feel her heart race, each beat echoing in his head. he leaned in, their lips meeting briefly, before he heard her panting.

the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if they were both savoring the sweetness of their new attraction. But soon, it deepened—hunger replaced hesitation. their lips moved in a rhythm that felt both familiar and foreign, pulling them deeper into each other's orbit.

imani moaned as his tongue found hers and jameson couldn't believe how good it sounded. he placed his hand against her thigh, grasping tightly as if he could pull her any closer. the middle console kept them further apart than he wanted them to be. when her hand came down and pulled his fingers higher up her thigh, jameson didn't hesitate.

her hands framed his face, thumb gently brushing his cheek as they kissed. his hand moved further up her thigh, brushing against the silk fabric of her dress. when the pad of his thumb brushed against her panties, she gasped.

it felt like an eternity before she caught her breath and gave him a quick moan. with expertise, jameson swept her underwear aside and pressed his thumb between her folds. she was already wet and made it easy for him to wedge his finger into her. imani's lips parted in surprise when he pressed against her. jameson took the opportunity to bite her lower lip -- brushing his tongue against it as her thighs tightened around his hand.

"i can't make you moan like that again if you don't keep your legs open. let me in." he whispered when he released her lip, pleased when imani immediately opened her legs for him. she reached down and pulled her dress higher, hips rising from the seat as she did so. he caught a flash of the thongs she wore as she pressed her ass to his leather seats.

they were both breathless, not taking the time to go inside her house or even move to the back seat. imani reached for him again, pulling his head across the space and kissing him deeply as jameson's hand went right back between her legs. she whimpered and moaned as he played with her clit -- teasing them both by thumbing and then circling the sensitive spot. by the time she was whining against his mouth, his dick was hard.

to his surprise, imani reached across the seat and placed her hand in his lap. the surprise spurred his fingers forward. his index and middle finger were soaking in her wetness as his thumb tapped her clit. imani's head fell back as he hissed, breaking the kiss to shake his head. "let me focus on you."

mani didn't pull her hand away. instead, she grasped his dick -- squeezing gently as her hips rocked onto his fingers. they slid in and out effortlessly. jameson twisted and delved deeply, pulling a variety of noises from the back of imani's throat. "she talkin' to me, mani." he prompted her. she groaned, riding his hand as quickly as she could. "you hear her? i bet i can make her talk some more."

the squelching and squishing echoed through the car. his palm and other fingers were soaked as the wetness ran down his hand. imani nodded her head, breath catching in her throat as he twisted his fingers and looked for that spot -- that one spot that he knew would have her screeching within the confines of his car. when he found it, she froze -- her whole body slumping back against the seat. "yes! y-yeah. just like that." she cried. jameson followed her, watching her face as he picked up the pace. he spread her juices across her clit with his thumb. when she shut her legs around his hand again, he used his free hand to grasp her thigh. "don't run from it. let me have it."

there he was, leaning over the center console, doing his best to make her cum less than an hour after their first date had ended. he kissed her lips gently, moaning with her as she shuddered. "i--i'm--cum" she whispered, words escaping her as she struggled to give him just three. "i know, baby. i feel it. let go. i got you."

jameson nodded, licking his tongue against her quivering lips. she opened her mouth for more and he sucked her tongue into his mouth, kissing her deeply as imani came around his fingers. she squeezed him tightly but he didn't stop. those two fingers kept thrusting, thumb kept flicking at her clit until she squirmed out of his grasp. her hand moving from his lap to grasp at his wrist. he was hard as fuck, eight and a half inches practically throbbing in his boxer briefs as he tried not to nut on himself.

he forced himself to slow down then -- pleased when she whimpered and asked for more kisses. jameson supplied them happily, stroking her insides with his fingers to calm her down. when she was sated and humming happily against his mouth, he pulled his hand back. they watched each other for a moment -- imani blinked at him as he licked his fingers clean.

jameson's gaze swept down her body as if he wanted to remember her just like that -- legs open, panties pushed aside, pussy wet and satisfied from his efforts. once his hand was 'clean', jameson reached over again and righted her clothing. imani still hadn't said a word. even when he opened his door to get out of the car. when he opened her door, he offered her his hand -- the same one he'd used to get her off.

imani took it and exited the car. she didn't seem to be in a daze anymore. "this was...a wonderful date." she told him softly. "i wonder what you'll come up with next time." before jameson could say a word, she pressed her hand to his chest and lifted her head to give him a kiss. he accepted it happily, greedily even. they stood like that for a moment, kissing on the sidewalk. his arms wrapped around her waist, fingertips finding their way to that delicious ass. jameson squeezed briefly and imani broke the kiss. "call me." she told him with a smirk before walking away.

he didn't know if she smirked because she could feel how hard his dick was when she kissed him or if she knew that he was going to call her as soon as he got in the car. either way -- he was pretty sure that this girl was going to be the death of him.

her best friend sat across the room, sketching designs for her portfolio. if she wasn't so distracted, she would have noticed imani scrolling through her texts. she had unblocked jameson and found a flurry of text messages.

how are you? i miss you. can we talk? baby, i think we need sit down and talk this shit out. i love you, imani. i'm not fighting it anymore. please call me

how is it that he made her want to forgive him? it was like when they were talking or when he was in front of her -- she forgot the horrible shit he had done. she forgot the affair, she forgot the way he confessed. she forgot the way he only seemed to give his all when he felt like she was moving on from him. she hated the way he infiltrated her mind when she was with someone new. it seemed like she was doomed to keep falling for jameson -- and the thought scared her.

"just do it. you know you want to."

imani's gaze shot up from the phone to see genie peering over at her from her drawing table. despite being gorgeous enough to be a model, genie adesanya preferred to design the clothes. her curls were pinned to the top of her head and the glasses she wore were circular -- making her eyes appear even larger and more adorable.

she was southern by birth but her father was a lakers legend. a jersey-hanging-in-the-rafters-at-staples-center kind of legend. everybody loved genie. even jameson. she and he had practically been raised together when his mother and her father spent a few years dating but ultimately decided to remain friends. as close as they were, once imani stepped onto the scene -- she and genie became best friends. she took her side over jameson's. always. despite being total opposites persona wise, nobody understood imani better than genie did.

"he's blocked so i do not want to do anything." imani retorted, wrinkling her nose at her friend. she didn't bother to deny that they weren't talking about jameson.

genie got up from her drawing desk, smiling at imani as she made her way across the room and bounced down onto her friend's lap. imani quickly shoved her off with a snort and the two ended up slap boxing each other. "don't lie to me, girl!" genie yelled at her, avoiding imani's hands as she rolled off the couch and onto the floor. "you've been moping and sighing around here all week. you hiding from him?"

of course she was. jameson knew where genie lived but imani hoped that if he approached her there, genie wouldn't let them sneak off together. she was sick of falling into the same pattern with him. fight, break up, fuck, fall in love again. wash, rinse, and repeat. "i'm tired of this shit with him, genie." imani admitted, sighing softly.

genie sat up and pat her hand against imani's. "i know. but...the heart wants what it wants, mani. i'm not saying you should listen to me. i'm bad at love. I've made so many mistakes. but i can see what you really want. i know you. it's why i know jameson has lived in your head rent free for years, girl. and you live in his. i'm not saying you gotta trust him immediately. just -- just text him back. maybe it's a mistake but what if it isn't? what if y'all get it right this time?"

a true romantic at heart, imani admired genie's belief in love. she just wasn't sure she trusted it. she remained silent as genie gave her time to process. she returned to her drawing table, picking up the pencil and finishing her sketches in silence.

imani fiddled with her phone for a moment before groaning out loud. if this man broke her heart again, she was going to fucking kill him.

[ imani ] : what are you doing next week? [ blockdt unless horny ] : nothing. you want me? [ imani ] : i guess we can talk then. [ blockdt unless horny ] : why wait until then? wya? i can come there. [ imani ] : i'm at genie's but don't come here. [ blockdt unless horny ] : why not? [ imani ] : i need a minute, jamie. i didn't expect this and i don't know if this is the right decision for me. [ blockdt unless horny ] : i understand. i do. but baby, you and me have something. i fucked it up before but i'm not gonna fuck it again. i can't lose it twice. [ imani ] : we can talk about it next week. [ blockdt unless horny ] : okay. what day? [ imani ] : Thursday. i'll be back from Italy then. [ jamie ] : i already miss you. [ imani ] : i'll miss you too 🙄 [ jamie ] : lmfao i'll take that. i'ma do right this time, mani. i swear on my life. [ imani ] : we'll see. [ jamie ] : yes, we will. i try not to make mistakes but when i do, i only make them once. i'll be the man you deserve. i promise. [ imani ] : i really want to believe you [ jamie ] : we can start there, baby. that's a start.

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre fanfic #megan thee stallion #megan thee stallion fanfic #aaron pierre x black!oc #megan thee stallion x black!oc #x fem reader #celebrity fanfiction #celebrity fanfic #smut #mature fanfic #fic: neon lights #fem!reader #oc fanfiction #original characters

54 notes · View notes