#fictional romances
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xitty · 7 months ago
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Hello.... If you don't mind me asking, who are your favorite romantic relationship's couples in books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series (can be canon or non-canon)? Feel free if you want to write the reasons or not of why you love them...Thanks if you want to answer....
Ohohoh, I don't mind at all! I've been fujoshi since forever (and I mean it, one of the very first anime I watched was Gravitation), so this is dominated by m/m couples, of various states of canon... Warning: long post.
My OTPs are Wataru/Eichi from Ensemble Stars and Yuki/Momo from IDOLiSH7. I could write essays (and sort of have done) about Wataru and Eichi, I sometimes joke I don't need romance novels because Wataru and Eichi provide all the twists, from graduation rooftop "proposal" to flirting in front of their unitmates to jealous fits to bragging about their relationship to others. There's almost 9 years of lore here so I'll just say here that their story is superb and they are my jam.
Yuki and Momo are just the most married and cute and funny couple. And funnily have some similar beats as Wataru and Eichi, where one (Yuki, Eichi) was devastated by something to point they didn't really see any reason to continue and the other (Momo, Wataru) came to drag them out of their gloom.
I have other Ensemble Stars ships I enjoy too: Tatsumi/Mayoi, Nagisa/Hiyori, Izumi/Leo, Rinne/Niki... I usually go for ships that have fair amount of canon material and these do.
I have one more OTP: Shizuma and Minato from Therapy Game. Aaa, their relationship is great because Minato *knows* all his own faults and tries to be rational but it's so hard, and Shizuma understands that and has patience of a saint. But Shizuma also doesn't always understand how some of his innocent actions towards other people look to Minato. But they are really cute and hot too. And I bow to Meguru Hinohara for her storytelling and art, her other series, The Dragon's Betrothed is good too.
Other manga couples I like are Hirano & Kagiura from Sasaki & Miyano, and their own spin-off series of course. I like Sasamiya a lot too, they are really sweet but I find myself being more invested in Hirano and Kagi's thing.
Ok, what next... I just finished The Case Files of Jeweler Richard novel vol. 7, so Seigi and Richard. If there ever was what's-actually-gonna-happen?? slowburn, it's here. Seigi is damn slow and Richard communicates in riddles but man I'm invested. I also bow to Nanako Tsujimura for these books, love them.
Speaking of slowburns and slow realizations and dumb communication (/affectionate), the danmei royalty of Hua Cheng and Xie Lian and Lang Wangji and Wei Wuxian. Both are very good. I love the trope of love transcending time and all that, so Hua Cheng waiting for 800 years for Xie Lian ticks this box so hard.
I'm also basic, so of course Viktor and Yuuri from Yuri On Ice are on my list. Same also for Ash and Eiji from Banana Fish. Touya and Yukito from Cardcaptor Sakura. Oh, I quite like Cherry blossom and Joe from Sk8 too.
I have a bunch of Genshin Impact ships I enjoy. I'm most invested in Alhaitham/Kaveh and Diluc/Kaeya. I like ships that have a past, I'm sure you noticed.
Ok, should I mentioned relationship that nobody probably knows about... But I keep thinking it a lot. There's this BL visual novel called Tokyo Onmyoji, the main character Rei is dealing with all kinds of supernatural problems as onmyoji. One of the routes is with his childhood friend Suguru and that route is beeeest. It's so good, deals with trauma and family trouble and their past and aaa now I'd like to read it again.
Also, Dramatical Murder is my least favourite Nitro+Chiral visual novel but damn, Koujaku and Aoba are so good couple, it ticks again so many boxes for me. (why oh whyyyyy that gorgeous figure of them is so expensive?! I can't justify myself to get pieces of plastic that cost two month's rent...)
Alright, let's pretend for a moment I'm not completely rotten woman... One of my favourite game couples is Eirika and Seth from Fire Emblem: Sacred Stones. It again gives me the "I've always liked you but I have kept my distance for reasons". I'm also in the Cloud/Tifa (minority?) camp for FFVII ships.
Kiyoka and Miyo from My Happy Marriage are het couple I'm really behind. I like how they are in the "so good for each other" category and how they've had to work on their relationship. The anime didn't show Kiyoka's thoughts that much but in the books he's also still learning how to be a good boyfriend/husband.
Shin and Lena from 86. Often I'm just "ok" about obvious couples like these but they are the exception. I think maybe it helped that they were separated soon after they got to know each other and then had to sort of got to know each other again.
Oh btw, I do read yuri too but I'm usually more into the series as a whole or one character's personal growth rather than their relationship. Like Sayaka from Bloom Into You. She's my favourite character from the series and I like her spin-off light novel series but I'm most into her finding peace with herself and love in general, if you understand what I mean. But! Hanako and Alice from Goodbye, My Rose Garden manga are my favourite yuri couple! Escaping relationship/marriage that people expect for you but you don't want, to unite with your true love is a trope I'm really fond of.
But Xitty, do you have any Western media couples you like? Well, murder husbands aka Hannibal and Will Graham I think of fondly and love forever. I was very very big Sherlock and John shipper (BBC ver.) and you can't take that away really. I'm also basic when it comes to Doctor Who, so Tenth Doctor and Rose make my heart flutter and eyes cry for their doomed (kinda) story. I just find myself watching less and less Western shows, so I don't even know what's happening there nowadays.
Umm... maybe that's it for now? Thank you everyone who read till the end. :D
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dragonsholygrail · 5 months ago
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Vampire bf spooning you in the middle of the night, nuzzling into you so roughly that it causes you to slowly wake up. As soon as he senses you’re not completely asleep, his arms curl around you and he bury’s his face in your neck. Groggily you bare your throat to him, thinking he might be hungry.
But instead he simply whines and cuddles in closer. It’s only then that you notice he’s shivering. A soft “What’s wrong, darling?” croaks past your lips. He doesn’t respond, letting his actions speak louder as his hands slip under your shirt and brush along your soft stomach as if trying to steal up all your warmth. You hiss at his touch, his usually cold skin even colder for some reason. “You’re freezing,” you can’t help but exclaim the obvious.
Your vampire bf whimpers, nodding his head within the warm fold of your neck. “Need your warmth. Need your heat, baby please,” he says in a soft whine, one hand tugging at the seam of your shorts and giving you an idea of what he means.
As soon as you’ve pulled your panties down, he’s sliding himself between the warm supple flesh of your thighs. He hisses in the space of her neck, his body shuddering with pleasure.
Your lips part, feeling his throbbing cock push its way through your legs, so close to where you need him. His tip bumping up against your clit with every snap of his hips. Arousal pools within you till it drips onto his cock. Your bf growls, hips moving faster.
“Ah, fuck! More. Please,” you beg, baring your neck once again. Your hips tilt, craving the feeling of being filled by him.
“My heart, I could devour you whole and still crave more," he rumbles, his hips bucking to catch every drop of your essence on his length.
His hand tenderly cups the underside of your neck and brings it to his lips. You sense the heat of his breath and goosebumps rise along your arms a second before you feel the sharp prick of pleasure caused by his fangs. You shiver as he slowly sinks them all the way in.
The combination of his fangs inside you and the way he slows down the rocking of his hips causes your eyes to droop as you begin to drift back to sleep. His hand massages your plush thigh, gently shifting it back over his own, legs intertwining.
With your thighs open, your bf has easy access to slide his length inside your eager and dripping walls. You both moan as he pushes past your entrance, his girth carefully stretching your precious pussy as he takes his time stuffing you full of him. Bringing a delicious dull ache to the apex of your thighs.
He settles in once he’s buried his length to the hilt, your hips fitting together like two puzzle pieces. He relaxes against your body and wraps every limb that he can around you. Cocooning your being in his protective embrace. Making you feel exactly as treasured as you are.
“That’s better,” he slurs contently in an attempt to speak with his fangs in your neck. Soon after you start to feel his skin warming back up against your own. You smile softly, finally falling back asleep and happy you were able to help him.
Never finding out that Vampires have full control over their body temperature.
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letsbelonelytogetherr · 9 months ago
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— Jay Vespertine; not from a book but from an actual conversation.
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the-ellia-west · 4 months ago
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HOW TO WRITE ROMANTIC ATTRACTION FOR DUMMIES
For anyone who wants to learn, (especially aro/ACE, aspec, ect.)
Requested by the lovely @darkandstormydolls
Alrighty! Welcome back or welcome to my blog! I'm dipping my toes back into the category of posts that gained me my exposure!
So if you're here, you want to know how to write romantic attraction/romance!
Strap in and let's begin!
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(Pls spread this to people you think would benefit from seeing it, or anyone who requested it bc I forgot, ANY ASPECS)
Step one -
Your characters must admire one another at the beginning, Romantic feelings usually do not present themselves as obvious until you really think them through, meaning your characters may not notice they have a crush until it's too late
These are general statistics and light stereotypes. So feel free to not use this tip:
Male characters usually tend to notice physical things first, like body shape, hair, skin, clothing, the way their lover moves, ect
And Female Characters Generally tend to notice more small things and personality-based traits first, like their lover's humor, speaking mannerisms, shifts in expression, ways they fidget, emotion in their voice, ect.
And someone who is in love will generally show more interest in this particular person's movements, actions, words, and anything in general.
Step 2 -
The character will show more interest in sharing their love language with their lover/crush
Physical touch - People with physical touch love languages may want to hold hands, cuddle, hug, or just lean on their crush whenever they are close to them moreso than they want to with others
Gift giving - Gift givers will want to get more gifts more often for their crush, probably thinking of them whenever they see little trinkets or wanting to get them big gifts for special occasions or signs of appreciation
Acts of Service - Acts of service people will offer to do extra favors and a bunch of extra stuff they don't have to do twice as much as normal
Words of Affirmation - Flattery, they will generally flood their crush with kind words and compliments
Quality time - Quality time people will want to spend time with their crush at almost every turn, and when they want company, will turn to their crush first
Step 3 -
After a while, these urges while become very prominent and more noticeable to the person having them
They may find themselves fantasizing about their crush or having them show up in their thoughts more and more, feeling nicer and happier when they're around, or when they're thinking about them
Smiling when they think about them, cutsey little fluff thingies like that
A crush is essentially: I want to date that, I want to be near that always, I want to marry that, I want that to snuggle me (or other love languages)
Or in simpler terms: if that asked me out, I would say yes (or at least want to say yes if your character is in denial)
Step 4 -
The character's urges to be close to this person grows strong enough that they do smth about it, whether prompted by another character. Or they just don't know I how to not anymore (like when you wanna eat candy and you don't want to, but you do anyway bc I JUST NEED THE CHOCOLATE OKAY?)
(Or for Aro/Ace, garlic bread)
People who are in love are generally very prone to be all dreamy and poetic and VERY EXTREMELY BIASED towards their crush
Then Yada Yada they kiss & shit
You're welcome, BYEEEEEEEE 👋
Happy writing!
Love you! Thanks for reading, And Ghost Tumblr Mother says go drink some water and have a snack, you've earned it, and you are beautiful <333
Have a good day! :]
@blue-kyber @thisisntrocket @cosmolumine @i-do-anything-but-write @paeliae-occasionally
@supercimi @the-letterbox-archives @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @artsandstoriesandstuff
@corinneglass @wyked-ao3 @urnumber1star
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nightmareevara · 5 months ago
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Being called "my girl" hits different
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filmgifs · 8 months ago
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Poor Things (2023) dir. Yorgos Lanthimos
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kaleidoscope-vol2 · 2 months ago
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bellehaspurplehair · 27 days ago
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Actually choking up over this quote from the wrath of the triple goddess.
Annabeth listens to Percy speaking like she listens to her favourite song.
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thewriteadviceforwriters · 3 months ago
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25 Prose Tips For Writers 🖋️✨ Part 1
Hey there!📚✨
As writers, we all know that feeling when we read a sentence so beautifully crafted that it takes our breath away. We pause, reread it, and marvel at how the author managed to string those words together in such a captivating way. Well, today I'm going to unpack a few secrets to creating that same magic in your own writing. These same tips I use in my writing.
But before I begin, please remember that writing is an art form, and like any art, it's subjective. What sounds beautiful to one person might not resonate with another. The tips I'm about to share are meant to be tools in your writer's toolkit, not rigid rules. Feel free to experiment, play around, and find what works best for your unique voice and style.
Power of Rhythm 🎵
One of the most overlooked aspects of beautiful prose is rhythm. Just like music, writing has a flow and cadence that can make it pleasing to the ear (or mind's ear, in this case). Here are some ways to incorporate rhythm into your writing:
a) Vary your sentence length: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, flowing ones. This creates a natural ebb and flow that keeps your reader engaged.
Example: "The sun set. Darkness crept in, wrapping the world in its velvet embrace. Stars winked to life, one by one, until the sky was a glittering tapestry of light."
b) Use repetition strategically: Repeating words or phrases can create a hypnotic effect and emphasize important points.
Example: "She walked through the forest, through the shadows, through the whispers of ancient trees. Through it all, she walked with purpose."
c) Pay attention to the stressed syllables: In English, we naturally stress certain syllables in words. Try to end important sentences with stressed syllables for a stronger impact.
Example: "Her heart raced as she approached the door." (Stronger ending) vs. "She approached the door as her heart raced." (Weaker ending)
Paint with Words 🎨
Beautiful prose often creates vivid imagery in the reader's mind. Here are some techniques to help you paint with words:
a) Use specific, concrete details: Instead of general descriptions, zoom in on particular details that bring a scene to life.
Example: Instead of: "The room was messy." Try: "Crumpled papers overflowed from the waste bin, books lay spine-up on every surface, and a half-eaten sandwich peeked out from under a stack of wrinkled clothes."
b) Appeal to all five senses: Don't just describe what things look like. Include smells, sounds, textures, and tastes to create a fully immersive experience.
Example: "The market bustled with life. Colorful fruits glistened in the morning sun, their sweet aroma mingling with the earthy scent of fresh herbs. Vendors called out their wares in sing-song voices, while customers haggled in animated tones. Sarah's fingers brushed against the rough burlap sacks of grain as she passed, and she could almost taste the tang of ripe oranges on her tongue."
c) Use unexpected comparisons: Fresh similes and metaphors can breathe new life into descriptions.
Example: Instead of: "The old man was very thin." Try: "The old man was a whisper of his former self, as if life had slowly erased him, leaving behind only the faintest outline."
Choose Your Words Wisely 📚
Every word in your prose should earn its place. Here are some tips for selecting the right words:
a) Embrace strong verbs: Replace weak verb + adverb combinations with single, powerful verbs.
Example: Instead of: "She walked quickly to the store." Try: "She hurried to the store." or "She dashed to the store."
b) Be specific: Use precise nouns instead of general ones.
Example: Instead of: "She picked up the flower." Try: "She plucked the daisy."
c) Avoid clichés: Clichés can make your writing feel stale. Try to find fresh ways to express common ideas.
Example: Instead of: "It was raining cats and dogs." Try: "The rain fell in sheets, transforming the streets into rushing rivers."
Play with Sound 🎶
The sound of words can contribute greatly to the beauty of your prose. Here are some techniques to make your writing more musical:
a) Alliteration: Repeating initial consonant sounds can create a pleasing effect.
Example: "She sells seashells by the seashore."
b) Assonance: Repeating vowel sounds can add a subtle musicality to your prose.
Example: "The light of the bright sky might ignite a fight."
c) Onomatopoeia: Using words that sound like what they describe can make your writing more immersive.
Example: "The bees buzzed and hummed as they flitted from flower to flower."
Art of Sentence Structure 🏗️
How you structure your sentences can greatly affect the flow and impact of your prose. Here are some tips:
a) Use parallel structure: When listing items or actions, keep the grammatical structure consistent.
Example: "She came, she saw, she conquered."
b) Try periodic sentences: Build suspense by putting the main clause at the end of the sentence.
Example: "Through storm and strife, across oceans and continents, despite all odds and obstacles, they persevered."
c) Experiment with sentence fragments: While not grammatically correct, sentence fragments can be powerful when used intentionally for emphasis or style.
Example: "She stood at the edge of the cliff. Heart racing. Palms sweating. Ready to jump."
Power of White Space ⬜
Sometimes, what you don't say is just as important as what you do. Use paragraph breaks and short sentences to create pauses and emphasize important moments.
Example: "He opened the letter with trembling hands.
Inside, a single word.
'Yes.'"
Read Your Work Aloud 🗣️
One of the best ways to polish your prose is to read it aloud. This helps you catch awkward phrasing, repetitive words, and rhythm issues that you might miss when reading silently.
Edit Ruthlessly ✂️
Beautiful prose often comes from rigorous editing. Don't be afraid to cut words, sentences, or even entire paragraphs if they don't serve the overall beauty and effectiveness of your writing.
Study the Masters 📖
Please! Read widely and pay attention to how your favorite authors craft their prose. Analyze sentences you find particularly beautiful and try to understand what makes them work.
Practice, Practice, Practice 💪
Like any skill, writing beautiful prose takes practice. Set aside time to experiment with different techniques and styles. Try writing exercises focused on specific aspects of prose, like describing a scene using only sound words, or rewriting a simple sentence in ten different ways.
Remember, that developing your prose style is a journey, not a destination. It's okay if your first draft isn't perfect – that's what editing is for! The most important thing is to keep writing, keep experimenting, and keep finding joy in the process.
Here are a few more unique tips to help you on your prose-perfecting journey:
Create a Word Bank 🏦
Keep a notebook or digital file where you collect beautiful words, phrases, or sentences you come across in your reading. This can be a great resource when you're looking for inspiration or the perfect word to complete a sentence.
Use the "Rule of Three" 3️⃣
There's something inherently satisfying about groups of three. Use this to your advantage in your writing, whether it's in listing items, repeating phrases, or structuring your paragraphs.
Example: "The old house groaned, creaked, and whispered its secrets to the night."
Power of Silence 🤫
Sometimes, the most powerful prose comes from what's left unsaid. Use implication and subtext to add depth to your writing.
Example: Instead of: "She was heartbroken when he left." Try: "She stared at his empty chair across the breakfast table, the untouched coffee growing cold."
Play with Perspective 👁️
Experiment with different points of view to find the most impactful way to tell your story. Sometimes, an unexpected perspective can make your prose truly memorable.
Example: Instead of describing a bustling city from a human perspective, try describing it from the point of view of a bird soaring overhead, or a coin passed from hand to hand.
Use Punctuation Creatively 🖋️
While it's important to use punctuation correctly, don't be afraid to bend the rules a little for stylistic effect. Em dashes, ellipses, and even unconventional use of periods can add rhythm and emphasis to your prose.
Example: "She hesitated—heart pounding, palms sweating—then knocked on the door."
Create Contrast 🌓
Juxtapose different elements in your writing to create interest and emphasis. This can be in terms of tone, pacing, or even the literal elements you're describing.
Example: "The delicate butterfly alighted on the rusted barrel of the abandoned tank."
Use Synesthesia 🌈
Synesthesia is a condition where one sensory experience triggers another. While not everyone experiences this, using synesthetic descriptions in your writing can create vivid and unique imagery.
Example: "The violin's melody tasted like honey on her tongue."
Experiment with Sentence Diagrams 📊
Remember those sentence diagrams from school? Try diagramming some of your favorite sentences from literature. This can give you insight into how complex sentences are structured and help you craft your own.
Create a Sensory Tour 🚶‍♀️
When describing a setting, try taking your reader on a sensory tour. Move from one sense to another, creating a full, immersive experience.
Example: "The old bookstore welcomed her with the musty scent of aging paper. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight piercing the high windows. Her fingers trailed over the cracked leather spines as she moved deeper into the stacks, the floorboards creaking a greeting beneath her feet. In the distance, she could hear the soft ticking of an ancient clock and taste the faint bitterness of old coffee in the air."
Use Active Voice (Most of the Time) 🏃‍♂️
While passive voice has its place, active voice generally creates more dynamic and engaging prose. Compare these two sentences:
Passive: "The ball was thrown by the boy." Active: "The boy threw the ball."
Magic of Ordinary Moments ✨
Sometimes, the most beautiful prose comes from describing everyday occurrences in a new light. Challenge yourself to find beauty and meaning in the mundane.
Example: "The kettle's whistle pierced the quiet morning, a clarion call heralding the day's first cup of possibility."
Play with Time ⏳
Experiment with how you present the passage of time in your prose. You can stretch a moment out over several paragraphs or compress years into a single sentence.
Example: "In that heartbeat between his question and her answer, universes were born and died, civilizations rose and fell, and their entire future hung in the balance."
Use Anaphora for Emphasis 🔁
Anaphora is the repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of successive clauses or sentences. It can create a powerful rhythm and emphasize key points.
Example: "She was the sunrise after the longest night. She was the first bloom of spring after a harsh winter. She was the cool breeze on a sweltering summer day. She was hope personified, walking among us."
Create Word Pictures 🖼️
Try to create images that linger in the reader's mind long after they've finished reading. These don't have to be elaborate – sometimes a simple, unexpected combination of words can be incredibly powerful.
Example: "Her laughter was a flock of birds taking flight."
Use Rhetorical Devices 🎭
Familiarize yourself with rhetorical devices like chiasmus, antithesis, and oxymoron. These can add depth and interest to your prose.
Example of chiasmus: "Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country." - John F. Kennedy
Even the most accomplished authors continue to hone their craft with each new piece they write. Don't be discouraged if your first attempts don't sound exactly like you imagined – keep practicing, keep experimenting, and most importantly, keep writing.
Your unique voice and perspective are what will ultimately make your prose beautiful. These techniques are simply tools to help you express that voice more effectively. Use them, adapt them, or discard them as you see fit. The most important thing is to write in a way that feels authentic to you and brings you joy.
Happy writing, everyone! 🖋️💖📚 - Rin T
Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've just launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!
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ifonlyyuweremine · 27 days ago
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Captain’s Girl. [Part I]
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John Price x Reader (Call of Duty)
Synopsis: After Laswell pitches you a favor to join 141, you're left with no choice but to accept. The only problem arises when you and the Captain start to butt heads, but if the two of you hate each other as much as you say, then why is the rest of the team calling you his girl?
Tags: Enemies to lovers, tension, military romance, forbidden love, smut, fighting, secret feelings, slow burn.
Word count? You know the drill, it’s long.
.・゜゜・  ・゜゜・..・゜゜・  ・゜゜・.
‘Captain John Price.’ You skimmed the document again, his name catching your eye for the third or fourth time. The black ink seemed to bleed together against the crisp paper of your enrollment documents into Special Forces Task Force 141. It was a promotion, and an honor at that, special forces to begin with were selective.
But 141 was almost unheard of, a combination of British special forces and American special forces. They were one of the best, and you were about to become a part of it. You read the documents again.
‘All personnel will be working under John Price and answering to Kate Laswell, respectively-’ Your eyes trailed further along the mess of columned words, making sense of the legality aspects of transferring to a new team. You hadn't expected to be transferred over, not until Kate had contacted you with an offer. You could tell she was put under pressure by the way her voice strained against the receiver…
“Look, I need you here. Ever since Shepard went rogue, we've been a bit tight over here. John has stepped in as commanding officer; technically, we already have a sharpshooter on 141. But we could use a hand, just until we sort out our bearings. Then, if you'd like, I can transfer you back to your current team…”
You'd raised an eyebrow, “Laswell, you're acting like I'm the only one who can fill these shoes. Why don't you hire a private contractor from KorTac? I'm sure they have more experience anyway.” You heard her blow out air from her nose, amused. “[Name], I don't think I have to tell you how much these guys hate private contractors. We need someone who can work as a collective team, you know… integrate themselves for the time being.”
You pursed your lips together, weighing out the pros and cons. However, Laswell was one of the best people you had ever met, a long-time friend since the baby days of your recruitment. She was a woman of her word, and she had your back. And if she said this team needed someone, she was being serious. You sighed, leaning back, “Okay, send me the details, Laswell. I'll think about it.”
…You read the contract one last time; it was simple enough. You would be transferred to 141 at the end of the month; it was a year-long contract. Which, in a way, made you a private contractor, too. The rest of 141 was under the impression that you were there to stay, everyone except the Captain and, of course, Laswell, not that she was on 141. If they decided they didn't need you before the contract ended, you could pick to stay for the remainder of the year or transfer back to your original task force.
A sigh left your mouth; you picked up your pen and flipped to the last page. Etching your signature into the blank line. You had till the end of the month; as of that moment, you were officially a member of 141.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Well, you had to give Laswell credit where credit was due. It had been a few weeks since your arrival and you fit in quite smoothly into 141; you believe she called it “integrating.” To nobody's surprise, the team was almost entirely men, aside from Ferrah, who was stationed elsewhere. It hadn't been long since your arrival until you were bound to run into someone; Jhonny was the first…
It was later in the day and you were wandering about; transferring to a new location was something you never got used to, so you tried to get a head start on mapping out the place. Everything was similar to your last base, but you still felt a bit alien. A small room tucked off to the side caught your eye, and you followed in that direction. It was a small break room, a kitchen, and a fridge tucked away in the side; there were a few cupboards and a single run-down couch.
You mosied over to the kitchen, opening cupboards and looking inside drawers. You found the usual silverware, mugs, napkins, junk, and tea bags. You stopped; tea actually sounded pretty good. Sitting on the counter was one of those electric tea kettles; you reached for it.
Waiting until the water was boiling, you grabbed the first mug you saw in the cupboard. As you dipped one of the tea bags into the scalding liquid, the door handle jostled across the room. You heard him before you saw him; his voice was deep, a bit raspy, with a thick Scottish accent. Walking through the door came a man dressed in sweatpants and a military-issued shirt. His head was shaved aside from a cropped mohawk of brown hair. His face was pulled into a subtle frown with his eyebrows furrowed. A phone pressed against his head by his shoulder.
You locked eyes with him, the pale spheres of his eyes boring into yours. You could tell he was studying you, maybe trying to deduce if he had seen you before or if you were a stranger. Suddenly, you heard muffled talking coming from the receiver of his phone. You looked down at your tea, not wanting to be considered rude for staring.
The man's voice came again, but it was almost unreadable. It was like a different language, probably Scottish, and then it stopped. When you looked back up, he was standing a few feet away from you, reaching into one of the cupboards.
“Sisters.”
You blinked; it took you a moment to understand he was talking to you. “I-What?” You asked, caught off guard by his comment. He looked back at you, holding up his phone. “S’who I was talking to.” Your eyebrows furrowed, and you nodded slowly; it was an odd way of making conversation. “Oh, okay…You uh- don't look too happy about it, family troubles?” You asked, his lips cracked into a soft smile, and he shook his head. “Nah, she's just a bit dafty. She's auld, so she feels the need to boss me around from time to time.”
You nodded along, trying to use context clues to understand some of his choice words. You watched him fill his mug with some water you had just boiled. “Ah, I see. I'm not sure I can relate; I'm the oldest sibling, so maybe I do all the bossing around.” He nodded, one of his thick eyebrows rasing, “How many siblings?”
You smiled, “Just two, a brother and sister.” The man hummed, looking down at his tea. “Gotcha…” A silence enveloped the room, and after another agonizing moment, he spoke up again. “You a new hire around here? Can't say I would forget a face like yours, lass.” You nodded, glad that the silence had been put to rest, a smile growing on your face at his comment. “Yeah, new transfer to 141.” Suddenly, his eyes grew more comprehensive, “You're the newbie?” He said, astonished.
You chuckled softly, “I wouldn't say newbie; I'm just a transfer from another unit.” His face cracked into a grin, “No kidding, apologies, didn't mean to come off as rude.” He held his hand out to you, “Johnny McTavish, team calls me Soap.”
Your eyebrows raised, “You're a part of 141?” His smile didn't fade as he nodded, “Aye, sharpshooter and sniper.” You felt a grin creeping up on your face; this Soap guy was friendly. Way friendlier than you thought the people on 141 would be. “I’m [Name]. I'm also a sharpshooter, but I also work with mechanics and firearms. Soap is…uh pretty interesting call sign, any meaning behind it?” You saw something in his eye; maybe it was pride, or perhaps something more sinister, “Well, when you clean out a room as fast as I do, people notice. You ain't got a callsign, Bonnie?”
You shook your head, “No, I guess my name has always just done the job.” Soap pat you on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you one.” You and Soap just talked for the next few minutes; it was nice. The conversation ebbed and flowed without problem; he nodded to the door after your tea was nearly empty. “Aye, Bonnie, why don’t I take you to meet the rest of the team? Give you a head start on the meet and greet.”
You smiled, “Yeah, why not?”
…The more time you spent with the team, the easier it got; it helped that they made good conversation. Jhonny was…well, Johnny, good sense of humor but never knew when to quit. Ghost was quieter; he didn't trust you immediately, but you'd managed to pull a few chuckles from him and the occasional polite conversation.
Kyle Garrick, or ‘Gaz,’ was an all-around good guy, funny, polite, and incredibly talented. You could never get over the time that you had gotten drunk off your ass, and Ghost told you a story of when Gaz fell out from a helicopter and was shooting at people while he was swinging from the airborne vehicle.
And then there was Price. Captain John Price, you'd met Price a day after Soap introduced you to the rest of the boys. To say the atmosphere was tense between you would be an understatement. From the minute he laid his eyes on you, they went stiff. His whole demeanor around you reminded you of a rock; it was like he didn't even want you on the team. His voice went curt, and whenever you spoke, his eyes bore holes into your head like he wanted to shoot lasers into your brain by just staring.
You'd talk about it to the rest of the team, but they shrugged it off. “Maybe he ain't used to you yet; it takes a while for the lad to trust anyone. He usually puts on the tough guy act for new recruits.” Ghost had said; Jhonny snorted at that. “Tough guy act? Dinnae, nothing bout that; when I first joined, the man made me want to pull out my hair. Think that's more than a tough guy act L.T.”
Usually, this wouldn't have bothered you as much as it did. But for some odd reason, he got under your skin like nobody else could. And believe, you were no stranger to difficult co-workers and bosses. Even worse, your first interaction with him was incredibly awkward, and you couldn't have left a good impression even if you had tried. It was almost etched into your mind like a stone tablet…
It was your last day to set up, get used to the team and your surroundings before you started working. The three days you had to relax were mostly spent either in the base gym, or eating in the cafeteria. What could you say, you were a creature of habit.
Until this point, you had met almost the entire team besides the captain. Technically, you weren’t required to meet him until you started working, but you'd already met everyone else. So, you figured it wouldn't hurt to get acquainted. You pried the information about Price’s whereabouts from Gaz: “I haven't seen him up and about today; usually, he's around. It probably means he's hauled up in his piss-poor office. The guy hates it there but usually locks himself up there when he's in a bad mood or has paperwork.”
Despite his warning, you went ahead and searched for Price’s office. That was mistake number one. After a minute or two of searching, you came across a door with the engraving “Price” carved into the wood in neat lettering. You reached for the door and tried to turn the handle, but nothing. It was locked; you frowned and tried again. But to nobody's surprise, the door remained shut.
So, you resorted to the next best thing. You knocked a few times but were met with radio silence. Maybe he wasn't in there, you chewed on your lip, thinking. There was a small window in the door, but it was covered by blinds. You squinted, pressing your hands to the wood and moving your face inches from the glass; you tried to peer inside despite the closed blinds. That was mistake number two.
“Can I help you?”
You jumped. The voice came from behind you. It was deep with a smooth British accent; you whirled around to face the person. Your eyes met what was possibly, in your opinion, sex on two legs. The man was tall and built like a tank, judging from how his biceps and chest filled out his cotton shirt. His face was stern, with short-cropped brown hair and a muttonchop beard. His eyes a deep shade of blue, you swallowed.
Damn.
You didn't believe you had a type, but this guy probably would've checked off all the boxes if you did. You stood there like a gaping fish for a moment; when he raised his eyebrow, you snapped out of your trance-like state. “I’m-uh looking for Captain Price. I thought I'd check his office, but I don't think he's there.” You cringed; your voice was rushed, a pitch higher, too.
The man crossed his arms; god, he could probably pop your head like a balloon with those things alone. “Well, you found him.” He said plainly. You stared at him briefly; of course, he was the captain. Why else would he be here? You wanted to punch yourself in the gut. “Oh,” you breathed, “great then. I wanted to introduce myself; I'm the new transfer.” You tried to muster up a confident smile, which most likely had the opposite effect, given he was looking at you like you'd grown a second head.
“[Name], I know. I read your file.” He deadpanned. His voice caught you a little off guard; he wasn't irritated per se, but he didn't seem happy about this introduction. You cleared your throat, “Great then, I'm sure Laswell told you I was coming?” You were grasping at strings here, trying to prolong the conversation.
“Yes. I'm well aware you are here. Laswell has a way of inserting help into my team.” You paused; well, that wasn't meant to be a compliment. Your smile faltered, and you looked around the room like this was some prank. “She said you guys needed someone…?”
Price nodded, his demeanor unsettlingly calm, “That’s her opinion. Now, I respect Laswell; she knows what she's doing. That doesn't mean I always agree with her; 141 was just fine, this is just a precaution on her part.”
You felt your eye twitch a little; you transferred from your other unit, the unit you were extremely close to, mind you… for this? You joined out of the kindness of your heart, only for this jackass to say you were ‘just a precaution.’ “Well, I hope you won't hold a grudge.” You said a bit curtly. Price pursed his lips together in a tight line.
“Wouldn't dream of it; a year is an awful long time to hold a grudge.” He said, the malice and ego coming off his tongue so strong you could almost taste it. What was this guy's problem with you? You did the nice thing and took time out of your day to introduce yourself to him. And he was treating you like you'd personally wronged him. “Good, then I won't either.” You breathed, frustrated. Price looked down at you, his eyes devoid of any emotion. “Well, that's good to hear; now, are you going to let me into my own office or keep standing there like a human blockade?”
This guy.
Your palms squeezed into fists, shooting him a nasty glare. You forgot you were standing right in front of the door, the embarrassment making the tips of your ears heat up. You pushed yourself to walk away, “It was nice meeting you, Captain.” You spit, venom in your tone, walking away like a wounded animal.
Suddenly, you somehow forgot about how hot he was; at that moment, you wanted to smash his gorgeous face into a wall. You liked your new Captain a lot more when he didn't speak. But the reality set in: John Price hated you for some unknown reason, and you were starting to hate him back.
…You had calmed down since that first encounter. Maybe it was a one-off thing; after all, you did go when Gaz warned you that he may already be in a bad mood. Maybe you had jumped the gun? and Price didn't hate you.
News flash: He hated you, and it was not a one-off encounter.
You were now a month into your new job, and if it weren't for Price, you would've actually been enjoying your time with 141. Everyone else was great; they were warming up to the idea of having you as a teammate. The training was hard on you, but you expected that, you were improving day to day. But no matter how well you did, you always had Price’s voice in your ear telling you that you could've done better. The man was running circles around you.
Slowly, you started to lose patience with him; when he laid out the bait, you bit. It was getting easier to react instead of keeping calm and passive-aggressively telling him you were grateful for the friendly criticism.
Even the team started to watch every interaction you had with the Captain keenly. They would tease you ruthlessly, saying his name while your back was turned just to laugh at the way your whole body seemed to go as stiff as a board.
“I swear the two of ya seem to bicker like an auld married couple. It's like watching my parents fight.” Soap had said to you once after an agitated conversation you'd had with Price moments before.
Was it your fault for causing some of the arguments between you two? Possibly. But he instigated just as much as you did; it was like a competition of who could get under the other's skin the most. And you couldn't even avoid him; Gaz wasn't kidding when he said he was out and about when Price wasn't in his office. He was like your shadow.
You were in the cafeteria? Oh, so was Price. You were in the gym? That's funny; Price was just about to do his workout. Training? He was practically glued to you and nitpicking everything you did. You were trying to go for a fucking walk around base past lights out? Price couldn't sleep, and as your captain, it was his obligation to make sure you didn't do anything stupid.
Intrusively, you wondered if he had implanted a tracker into you while you were sleeping. That had to be it; there was no way you just happened to experience so many ‘coincidences’ back to back. 
Eleven more months, you had eleven more months stuck with him. Maybe in that time, you could come up with a detailed plan on how you would murder, hide, and successfully get away with killing your Captain.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
It was one of those off days where you didn’t have much to do. Like the calm before the storm, 141 had an incoming operation; plans were laid out, and everyone knew what to do. All that was left was playing the waiting game before you loaded into the helicopter and landed in a checkpoint base in Urzikstan.
With nothing to do, you figured it wouldn't hurt to hide away in the break room with some tea and scroll on your phone. You rarely had time to yourself, so you might as well make the best of it. You peeked into the break room and smiled when you found it was empty. You made a beeline to the small kitchen counter; you'd managed to snag some different types of tea for yourself over the few weeks you had been at base. It was the floral and sweet kind that nobody touched, despite Ghost's comment that: “It's not real tea.” You found it incredibly enjoyable.
As you turned on the electric kettle, the doorknob jostled. You looked up, and your eyes met Price. Well, shit. He made eye contact with you. Obviously, the feeling between you two was mutual based on how his lips dropped into a frown when he saw you. You stared at each other for a beat before you turned your head away.
You weren't doing this today; you were too tired to bicker with your captain over something useless. You stared at the counter, waiting for him to leave or speak. But he did neither. Instead, he walked over to the counter and grabbed a mug. The silence between you was so loud that the room might've been quieter if you were arguing.
He was close, not enough that you were touching, but enough that his presence almost tickled your skin.
You just continued to watch the counter and your mug. Glancing at the kettle, you almost grimaced; it was barely bubbling. When did boiling water take so long? The tension was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife. But, Price was the first to crack.
“Interesting mug,” he commented, his voice as it always was when he spoke to you. Dry. You debated not responding, but the silence was killing you just as much. “It's my favorite.” You said back, matching his tone. However, your eyes were soft as you looked at the mug before you. It was ceramic, with hand-painted fish drawn onto it. Cod, salmon, tuna, and swordfish, too, their colors vibrant compared to the barren beige of the rest of the cup.
He made a low hum sound, almost like he didn't believe you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you finally turned to look at him. You stopped briefly; his eyes had heavier bags than the last time you'd seen him. He didn't look as stern or unshakeable as usual; rather, he looked more weary, human. You forgot you were going to say something to him, “What?” You said, suspicious.
His eyes broke away from yours, looking down at his hands as they tore away the top of an instant coffee packet. Price emptied its contents into his plain white mug and cleared his throat. “Nothing, s’just that's my mug.” He said; his voice wasn't mad or accusatory. Instead, it was just like he was stating a fact.
You frowned, your eyebrows sinking further down your face. What was he talking about? You'd been using this mug for weeks; in fact, this was the first mug you'd used here, back when you first met Jhonny and the rest of the team. “That's not true; all the mugs in the cupboard are communal.” You pointed out, looking at him like you'd caught him in a bad lie.
He looked back at you, an almost smugness to his gaze. “Look at the bottom of the cup.” He said plainly. Your frown deepened, but you grabbed the mug and turned it over in your hands out of curiosity.
JP. It was painted in small lettering in the middle of the circular bottom. Your face dropped. Oh. JP, standing for John Price. It was his mug. Your face reddened as you realized you had been drinking out of his cup for the past month. Why hadn’t he said anything about it to you before now? He obviously knew, considering he'd seen you drink from it before.
You opened your mouth, trying to come up with a good defense. “But- Jhonny told me all the mugs in the break room were for everyone. Including this one.” You said, pointing at the mug in your hands.
Price raised one eyebrow, “And you believed him?” He said. The gears in your head started to turn; the guy had a point. Why had you trusted him of all people? You pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers, “fucking christ Soap.” You muttered, primarily to yourself.
The steaming whistle of the kettle broke your train of thought, and your head snapped in its direction. You looked from the boiling kettle to the mug in your hand, a sigh exiting your chest. You held out the mug to him, “Here. It's yours, I'll get another one.”
Price looked surprised for a beat before his face went neutral again. He shook his head, pushing the mug back towards you. “No need; I've already got this one.” He grunted, nodding to the plain white mug sitting on his side of the counter. Before you could protest, he grabbed the kettle, pouring the hot water into his mug. Your nose scrunched as the aroma of instant coffee hit you.
He raised an eyebrow at your visceral reaction, “Not a fan of coffee now, are we?”
You cleared your throat, looking away from the blackening devil concoction. “I like coffee-” You clarified, “-just not that instant crap; it tastes like sewer water.” The curve of his lip twitched into a half-amused smile. Bringing the mug to his lips and taking a hearty sip, “noted.” Price hummed. You reached out to grab the kettle, but he handed it over to you before you could.
You raised your eyebrow; this was the closest thing you'd ever had to a friendly conversation with your Captain. You skeptically took it, breathing a ‘thanks’ to him. A comfortable silence fell on the both of you; Price could drink his coffee while you waited for your tea to brew.
Your eyes seemed to pull towards his direction as you waited, observing the curve of his lips, his nose that was just a bit crooked, and the coarse hair of his beard that thinned into stubble the further down his neck it went. You watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed his drink and how his large hand seemed to make the mug seem small. He somehow pulled off looking like he hadn't slept in weeks, which ticked you off somewhat.
He shot you a sideways glance, “You're staring.” Price said flatly; you looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I was…zoning out. And for the record, I was looking at the-uh wall behind you.” You cringed at yourself; the long pauses and uhs weren't adding to your credibility.
Price gave you a funny look, turning to look at the refrigerator behind him, which was most definitely not a wall. He turned back to you, “The wall you said?”
Well, shit, thanks, captain obvious. You frowned, giving up, “It doesn't matter-” you huffed, “Point is, I was zoned out.”
That answer seemed to satisfy him or at least force him to drop the subject; Price shrugged and took another sip from his mug. “Let's hope you don't make a habit out of it. Wouldn't want to add that to the other list of…qualities you have.” Here we go again. You raised an eyebrow, the edge in his tone all too familiar. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, “Which are?”
Price cleared his throat, gesturing his mug to you and your tea. “Theavory, for one.” Well, he got you there. You blew out air from your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you'd let him pull from you.
“Funny.” You said sarcastically.
A small smile tugged at his lips, “Yeah, well, just trying to lighten the mood between us.”
There was a pause.
The way he said ‘between us’ didn't sit right with you; what he said had undertones of bitterness, almost similar to the layers of an onion. Now, was it possible that you were reading too much into this? Yes. Was it also a tone-deaf thing to say, considering he was the primary reason you two didn't like each other in the first place? Also yes.
Don't bite the bait; don't bite the bait, “The mood you created?” You bit the bait.
He glanced at you, one of his eyebrows arching. For a second, it was silent, like he was mulling over whether it was worth it to engage. Price sighed, setting his drink down. “Look… [Name], if this is about that time when we first met, I was in a bad mood. I wasn't trying to be harsh; I'd just had a shit day. Nothing personal on you.” He craned his neck to the side, sliding a hand over his nape.
You crossed your arms. “You could've apologized,” you pointed out. Price paused, staring at you quizzically, “Why would I need to apologize?”
You almost gaped at him; his ego seemed to know no bounds. If it wasn't so irritating, it might have been comical, “You called my job a ‘precaution,’ and me, a ‘human blockade-’” You deadpanned, “-I don't like when someone downplays my whole career.” Price just stared at you blankly, his face morphing into more confusion.
“But you are a precaution.” He said, “That's the whole reason why Laswell put you here.” It was like he was explaining something to a child.
You huffed, “Captain. With all due respect, I'm a part of this team whether we like it or not. I don't want to be treated like an outsider- everyone else here seems to treat me like I belong here so why don't you? What's not to trust?” You questioned, your eyebrows pinched together and your lips pressed into a not-so-subtle frown.
“You don't belong here, though,” Price said frostily. “You're here for a year [Name], no more, no less. You belong to a different task force, so excuse me if I treat you as such.”
You stood there, stunned for a moment. A familiar feeling of resentment bubbling up inside you like the electric tea kettle. Your hands squeezed the ceramic of your mug, “Just because I'm not here to stay doesn't mean I'm any less committed to my job. I work my ass off every day to show you that I belong here. I just don’t understand why you’re too stubborn to even see that.” You huffed.
Price pursed his lips into a tight line, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer. “I don't have time to micro-manage everything you do. That's not stubborn; it's having other responsibilities besides making you feel included.”
Well, if he hadn't made you feel like a toddler before, he definitely was now. “Well, that's funny because you seem to do a perfectly good job at micromanaging everything I do despite your ‘lack of free time.’ And- I’m not asking you to make me feel included; I’m not an infant. I’m asking you to treat me with the same respect you treat everyone else with.” You hissed.
It didn’t surprise you how quickly the polite interaction with him turned into another bitter argument. When it came to Price, emotions ran high. Higher than you would like to admit.
“Maybe if you stopped acting like a child, I would respect you more.” He bit back, and you groaned, throwing your hands up in the air.
“I’m not though- I’m clearly telling you the problem between us. But since you have this…this grudge against me you won’t even listen to me.” You huffed.
Price shot you a look that said, ' I'm winning this argument, and there is nothing you can say to stop that.’ 
Internally, you wondered if getting dishonorably discharged was worth throwing hot tea into your captain's stupid face. Instead, you decided to look away, setting your mug on the counter with a sharp ‘clank.’ “Fine then, don't listen to me. That works, too.” You breathed through your teeth.
Price downed the rest of his coffee, throwing his head back and then setting his mug upside down in the small sink. He turned his whole body to you, crossing his arms. His blue eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows pinched together in scrutiny. “You want me to listen? Go ahead. Say what you want; I'm all ears.”
Your voice died in your throat. As much as you wanted to give him a piece of your mind, you didn't put up much of a fight against him, especially not with his ‘I'm the Captain, and you are one word away from cleaning toilets’ voice.
You pressed your lips together in a tight line, and the silence between you hung dangerously quiet for another moment. “Nothing, Captain.” You said through your teeth.
Price nodded, his eyes drilling holes into you, “That's what I thought. Now, it better stay that way for the duration of the next week or so help me; I will take away every privilege you have.” With that, he promptly turned on his heel and stormed out. Leaving you, a seething statue.
You looked down at his mug, still held tightly in your hand. You glared at the painted fish, “Fuck you.” You whispered to the watercolor salmon. Your frown deepened, substantially disappointed that whispering ‘fuck you’ to your Captain's mug didn't carry the same satisfaction you'd feel if you said it straight to his face.
Arguing with him was like arguing with a brick wall. Scratch that. Arguing with Price was worse than arguing a brick wall, a brick wall wouldn't intimidate you and then storm off.
You didn't feel like finishing your tea anymore. You grit your teeth together, dumping the liquid into the sink and watching as it slides down the drain. You had a few days before the mission, and you were going to make sure that you didn't fuck anything up. Lest you suffer the wrath of Price and your own self-doubt.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
“Shit!”
Your head snapped toward the voice, even with the night vision gear you had everything was difficult to identify. It was safe to say you weren't a fan.
It had been 72 hours since you landed in Urzikstan, and 4 hours since you left the checkpoint base. If you had to guess, it was most likely around 0300 standard military time. Which meant you and the rest of 141 only had another two hours before you had to evacuate and hop on the trucks back to the checkpoint.
Your orders were simple enough, break into the compound and locate the underground terror group that was allegedly creating a bio-warfare laboratory. While it wasn't concreated information British and American SAS couldn't risk not sending a team to see if the tip was accurate. Being the genuine pigs of the situation didn't sit right with you but you weren't employed for your opinion on what the government chose to do and not do.
Still, being sent on a wild goose chase or worse into a trap made you more on edge. Everyone had paired up in case this was a setup and because the universe could never let you win you were grouped with Price. Which brought you back to the present moment.
“Price whats going on? talk to me.” You said in response to his curse. Trying to keep your voice as low as you could while still being audible. You weren't an expert but typically someone hissing ‘shit!’ wasn't a good sign.
In the split second before he could respond you heard the click. Along with the sound of Price’s footsteps trying to get out of the way, then came the sharp boom of a gun being fired. Only after the sound had left the barrel of the gun did you see it. The building wasn't finished, half of the construction was halted, leaving rooms unfinished, walk-offs, and random piles of rubble. Hidden behind a cement pillar a floor above, looking down at you was a person. More importantly a person behind a giant ass gun.
Shit!
You immediately threw yourself out of the way, ducking yourself behind a large amount of rubble. Your eyes scanned for Price in the darkness, frantically making sense of the objects around you. Another fire. Followed by another one. You didn't have time to look for Price. You turned your body, shielded by the debris, and pointed your gun up. It didn't take long before you locked onto the figure, you drew your breath in and pulled the trigger. The firing stopped.
You peered up over the rubble just in time to see the limp body flop over the drop-off and slam into the concrete. You were met with a deafening silence, “Price you copy?”
After a moment you heard someone move, “Yeah-” Your shoulders dropped, a breath you didn't realize you were holding escaped. You never thought hearing that deep British voice would ever make you this relieved. “Yeah, I copy.” He breathed. You stood, carefully making your way over to the corpse of your attacker. Looking down at the body, their face hidden by a cloth and glazed-over eyes looking up at the ceiling.
You grimaced, it was like looking at a dead fish. You looked up, nobody else was above. The only thing remaining was the unaccompanied sniper.
“This guy was alone.” You said, eyebrows furrowing. “And his aim was shit.” You deadpanned. Your head turned, expecting to meet Price. But were only greeted by an empty space, “Price?” You asked looking around.
“Over here.” He gruffed, you turned around. Price was standing next to a wall, his palm flat against its surface. It was like he was leaning against it, your eyes narrowed. His left leg was slightly raised off the ground, something wasn't right.
You jogged over to him, “What's the matter?” you asked, because of the night vision goggles coupled with the amount of gear he was wearing you couldn't see his face well. However, you didn't miss the way his jaw flexed. Before he could respond you pinpointed the issue. The leg that was raised had a small bullet-sized hole in his boot.
“Shit.” You breathed.
This really wasn't what you needed. You and Price had to be out of the compound in the next hour and a half, being shot in the foot was a major problem. At least it wasn't an organ, you thought. “Can you still walk?” You asked.
Price put his foot on the ground, putting his weight on it. You cringed as he let out a quiet hiss, “Yeah just fuckin’ hurts like hell.” He took a step, he was limping but he could walk. Which was a small win for both of you. Just as you opened your mouth someone spoke in your ear piece.
“[Name], Price, you copy? We heard shots.” The voice was grave, deep, with a thick British accent. Ghost.
Price answered, “We’re fine. Bastard with a sniper nicked my foot. Did any of you find the lab yet?” He said through clenched teeth, despite your dislike of your captain you felt a little guilty. If you'd seen the shooter before Price would probably be fine.
“We just found it, nobody’s here. S’a fuckin’ ghost town… no pun intended.” Ghost’s staticky voice rang in your ear, if you were in a better situation you might have laughed. Your eyebrows furrowed and you frowned.
“That makes no sense.” You chimed in, “If this guy was here there should be more people. It doesn't make sense for only one person to be set up here.” You looked at Price. His head was already turned to look at you. It was a beat before anyone spoke again.
“Price.” A raspy Scottish accent this time. Soap. “The labs empty, no inventory at all. Everything is sterile.” You felt your throat run dry, the silence on the radio spoke louder than anything you or anyone else could say. Either they evacuated before the team had gotten there or the whole building was a ruse.
You looked back at the corpse lying a few feet away from you and Price. “They knew we were coming.” You breathed. The weight of your words seemed to carry for miles, but the implications might have been worse. You looked at Price, the same thoughts you had probably already running through his head. “We need to fucking leave, right now.”
Price gave a small nod, “Everyone get out. Gaz, call for emergency evac now. Leave the same way we came do not under any circumstances go further into this building.” Price demanded. Which was followed by a series of ‘copies.’ You started for the way you entered, just as you reached the empty doorframe you heard a grunt behind you. You looked back, fuck. You forgot Price was hurt, fuck, fuck, fuck. He could walk but there was no way he could run with his foot.
You doubled back, and as you ran to him Price raised his hands. Almost in protest, “I can keep up, I'm not immobile.” He exhaled, and you shot him an unimpressed look. The situation was bad enough, you weren't going to deal with this. You couldn't waste time and walking on a bad foot would only worsen it for Price in the long run.
You grabbed his arm and slung it over your shoulder, one arm grabbed the back of his vest, holding his side up so his injured foot didn't hit the floor. It wasn't the most comfortable but it worked.
Price opened his mouth but you spoke before he could get a word in. “You can't keep up and you know it. Whatever problems we have don't matter right now, we've got to get out of here. God knows what the people who were here before us did to this place. But we don't have time to think about that-” Your eyes met his, the red hue of the night vision goggles making his navy eyes seem black. “-I’d much rather keep you alive but I would gladly die with you than have it be my fault that you die. So shut the fuck up and move.”
That seemed to do the trick because Price did in fact, shut the fuck up. You quickly exited with Price. It wasn't as fast as you would've liked to leave but it was the best you could do with a six-foot tank of a man leaning against you.
A few minutes later you and Price successfully made it out. The rest of the team was already waiting a ways away from the building, you let out a relieved sigh. Just being out of the compound seemed to lift a weight off your chest and calm your racing heart. Price seemed to feel the same way judging by his taunt muscles relaxing slightly.
You made your way over to the team, Ghost was the first to notice you. He did a slight double-take as he saw Price, “Thought you said the bloke nicked you?” He commented, you gently released Price letting him lean against the outside wall of an abandoned house.
Price grunted, “Yeah well he nicked me good.” He said back, Ghost nodded. Soap and Gaz peered at the bloody hole in his boot, “That’s gonna be a pain to heal I’ll tell you that.” Soap commented, and Gaz nodded along. “No kidding.”
Price’s frown deepened, and he let out a breath. “Gaz how long till evac trucks pick us up?” Gaz looked out at the open area then looked back, “I’d say twenty minutes give or take.” That answer seemed to give Price a little peace.
A few minutes had gone by, and Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were all talking with you while Price leaned against the wall silently. You glanced at your Captain, gingerly making your way over you leaned against the wall a few inches away from him. You didn't know what to say if you should say anything for that matter. Making conversation with Price wasn't your strong suit, but you felt bad.
“So…you okay?” You asked dumbly, Price gave you a look that made you want to go right back to the others. He was silent for a beat before speaking. “I got shot in the foot [Name], you tell me.” He deadpanned.
You swallowed, nodding. Asshole. No matter, you decided to take it in stride, “Right.” You breathed, “I just… wanted to check.” On second thought maybe you really should leave, it was like you were communicating with an alien. And after your last argument with Price, you walked on eggshells whenever you were around him.
The stretch of silence between the two of you lasted longer than you would've liked. But after a moment Price cleared his throat and nodded, “Thank you.” He said.
You did a bit of a double-take, thank you? Price never thanked you. It was like he was allergic to congratulating or acknowledging you in any form that wasn't to reprimand you. You must've looked as confused as you felt by the way he glanced at you and then went on. “For helping me out of there, you were prepared for the worst back there and you still had my back. I appreciate that-”
“-you uh, you did good.” He clarified.
Your mouth was probably hanging open at this point, ‘you did good.’ The words hung in the air around you, filling your ears with cotton. Price your captain, Price your mortal enemy had praised you. He gave you a sideways glance, “Don't look so shocked [Name], you're still on thin ice.”
Ah, there it was, your shoulders slumped. It was better than nothing though, “Right, uhm thank you.” You said a bit awkwardly, Price gave you a small nod in return. It wasn't much, but it was acknowledgment.
After some time passed by you and the rest of 141 loaded into the trucks, starting the long drive to the checkpoint base. You tried to lean your head back and get just a little bit of rest, but after thirty minutes of failing to do so, you gave up. There was just too much in your head, too many unanswered questions. You thought about the man you'd killed, why was he there? What was the use of evacuating a building if you just left a single sniper with terrible aim lying in wait for someone to come looking around?
Did that mean they didn't know 141 specifically was coming? The question that worried you the most was the fact that if they did plan for you to raid the lab, who on the inside was feeding these people your team's operations? You shuddered. It was bad enough that commanding officer Shepard went rogue a few months prior. The SAS really didn't need another mole. Especially considering the amount of enemies the American and British military had made.
Your shoulders slumped, it didn’t really matter, what mattered was that everyone made it out. You didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if the previous occupants had left explosives inside the building. It was better to just be thankful that nothing happened.
Your first operation with 141 had been a bust, but considering the circumstances you thought it went as well as it could’ve. Not counting Price’s foot.
Subconsciously your eyes drifted over to Price, his boot had been taken off and his foot was wrapped in white garb. Just until someone could look at it properly, everyone had taken their night visions and helmets off to get some shut-eye. Your gaze drifted up until they met his face, navy eyes met yours. You froze, you hadn't realized Price was awake. The two of you didn't break eye contact for a minute, almost like a challenge of who would be the first to look away.
“You make a habit of staring at people or is it just me?” He deadpanned. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, he could never let you catch a break, could he?
“I wasn't staring, and you were looking at me too.” You defended, it didn't matter if you were staring, he wouldn't get the satisfaction of hearing you confess that. One of his thick eyebrows raised, “I glanced at you. There's a difference, you just happened to look up at the same time.” He said back, calm as ever.
You half rolled your eyes, he could word it however he wanted to, but in the end, it was pretty much the same thing. “Okay, keep telling yourself that.” You hummed, matching his nonchalance. Your gaze dropped back down to his bandaged foot, “How’s the foot?” You asked, hoping he wouldn't catch you changing the subject.
Price grunted, his head lulling back onto the seat. You shot a glance at his adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down before averting your eyes. “Feels like I got shot in the foot, so…not great. It's better than an organ so I won't complain that much.” He breathed.
You nodded, “You ever been shot before?” you asked, what could you say? You were curious. He nodded, clearing his throat he cast his head down to look at his chest. One of his hands pulled up his bullet vest and shirt revealing the beginnings of his abdomen, right above his hip bone there was a small scar. “Two years ago, caught me while I was down. Took forever to heal, fuckin’ hurt like hell too.”
You zeroed in on the exposed skin, it was all muscle, no surprises there. The man was built like a 4x6 brick, his skin was shiny with sweat, and from what you could see his bullet scar wasn't the only one that littered his skin. Just below the dipped fabric of his shirt was the start of a happy trail. You swallowed.
What the fuck was wrong with you? A few days ago you were plotting how you could murder him and now you're ogling a sliver of his stomach like a horny teen girl.
You absolutely did not find a single part of your boss attractive. Forget your first interaction with him when you were practically gaping over him like a fish. That didn't count. This was Price you were talking about. Sure, he was conventionally attractive with just the right amount of ruggish charm to make him mysterious. And yeah, he was built like a tank, so what? And you couldn't forget about his stupid fucking British accent, who the hell was into British accents anyways? (You were. Embarrassingly so.)
Price looked up at you, the silence making you raise an eyebrow. “See something you like aye?” He said, amusement dripping from his voice. Your eyes immediately snapped back to his face, embarrassment churning away at your insides.
“You wish,” You said back. So maybe you found some parts of your Captain hot, that didn't matter. In the end, it was still Price. And the flames of hatred don't die out just because one's enemy is a little (a lot) attractive.
Price breathed out what sounded like a laugh, he dropped the shirt. “Keep telling yourself that [Name].” Your fists squeezed together as he threw your words back at you.
You glared at him, “You're so full of it you know that?” You breathed, which only seemed to pique his interest further. You were glad the rest of the team was either sleeping or so used to your fighting that at this point they tuned you out. Jumping off a cliff seemed nice in comparison to the ruthless teasing that Soap and Ghost would enact if they found out you'd been caught ogling Price.
“Didn't realize this would strike a nerve, any particular reason why?” He said, you grimaced. You could almost taste the smugness from his tongue like syrup, “It didn't.” You said through your teeth, “Then again, egotistical men are a pain to be around. Especially ones that think everyone around them wants them.” You grumbled.
Your words seemed to have the opposite effect, Price straightened. A small tug at his lip made you want to slap that smirk right off. “I never said you wanted me, but liars always do have a way of telling on themselves don't they?” He grinned.
Something flashed in his eyes, you didn't have time to see what it was. But right now, all your willpower was devoted to not picking up your gun and giving him a matching hole in his right foot. “I think I'd rather shoot myself than be anything but professional with you.” You said frostily.
Price hummed, the smirk never leaving his face and he leaned back. “Glad the feeling is mutual.” He spoke calmly.
Your eye twitched, he was pulling that card now. Reverse physiology or whatever it was, the ‘I don't have to want you but you have to want me.’ Well too bad you didn't care, you couldn't care less. If Price didn't want you that was great-better even.
“Yeah,” You huffed, “Super glad.” You turned your head away so you didn't have to look in his direction. Maybe you should've left him in that building, it was a tempting thought. The rest of the drive back to the checkpoint was spent in silence.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
The base felt dreary, everyone was still in a funk from the previous night. Everything felt just a bit more surreal, nobody was talking about what happened either. Not that there really was anything to discuss.
The checkpoint base wasn't as nice as your previous base. It wasn't even a full building, there were a few small ones but those were mostly used to store weapons. Everything else was industrial-sized tents, making privacy a luxury. It didn't even have a proper barracks, just a large tent with several stretcher-like beds placed in rows. To be completely honest the entire thing was a pile of shit. But it was a roof over your head so there was that.
You sat at a bench in the ‘commons,’ a poor excuse for food sitting in front of you. Gaz sat next to you while Ghost and Jhonny sat across from you. They all had similar grimaces plastered on their faces as they ate their protein paste.
“If I have to eat this shite for another day I'm going to go into that food storage room and light the thing up. They got us eating like dogs.” Ghost said after draining the last of his rations. You half-heartedly agreed, humming a sound of approval that was accompanied by Gaz’s small chuckle.
Soap grinned, “Don't get yer panties in a twist just yet L.T, heard they're serving dessert paste too. Courtesy of Price’s injury.”
You shivered, it sounded just as bad if not worse. Then a thought popped up, you looked around the common space. “Hey, you guys seen Price? Isn't he eating?” You hadn't seen him for almost the entire day, which was a blessing for you but it did strike you as odd when normally you couldn't get rid of him.
Gaz shrugged, “He was in the medical tent last time I saw him. The guy was getting his foot looked at, he’ll probably show up soon.”
Ghost turned his head to face you, while it was a little hard to tell with his balaclava, one of his eyebrows raised. “Awful concerned about Price aren't you? Thought you hated the man.” Your lips curled into an exasperated frown.
“I'm not. And I do hate him. I was just curious.” You brushed him off, trying to avoid his stony gaze. Soap and Gaz exchanged looks that made your eyebrows furrow.
Gaz looked at you, “What about the other day when you helped him out of the building?” Soap was next to chime in, “Or that you use his mug all the time and he lets you?”
You shot Gaz a glare, “First, he's still my Captain I'm not going to leave him in a building where I think he's going to die.” Then you directed a similar glare at Soap, “Second, I didn't know it was his mug because you tricked me into thinking the mugs were communal.” You said through your teeth.
Ghost smirked, “Sounds like you care.”
Your hands gripped the table with unnecessary force. “I do not.” You defended, the looks exchanged between them made you want to crawl into a hole. Suddenly you weren't as inclined to finish your meal. You stood, grabbing your tray of half-eaten food and trash. “I'm not hungry anymore.” You said dryly.
Soap laughed, faking a disappointed frown. “Come on lass we were just getting started with ya. Where's the fun in leaving before the real jokes start?” You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the bench and walking towards the trash.
“Jokes are supposed to be funny,” you replied as you dumped the remanence of your ‘lunch’ in the trash. Just as you were exiting the tent Soap's voice called out to you.
“Oh, if you see the old fart, tell him his dessert paste is waiting for him!” That earned an amused tug at the corner of your lips, shaking your head in exasperation as you pushed past the floppy tent entrance.
You didn't even make it a foot outside before your momentum was halted by a larger mass. Your face met something hard, but also somehow soft at the same time. You stumbled back, gaining back your balance from the force of running into something. Or more specifically, someone. You looked up in dismay to see what kind of idiot ran into you.
It was Price, because of fucking course it was.
But it was Price with the addition of a single crutch and a newly wrapped foot. Your eyes slowly crept up to his face, the mortifying reality that you slammed right into his chest setting in. What’s worse was that the previous conversation with the guys was still very fresh in your mind.
‘Sounds like you do care,’ Ghost’s words echoed in your mind, haunting you like a…well a ghost. Ironic.
“Do you mind?” Price's words snapped you out of your trance. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. It was silent for a moment before your vocal cords decided to actually comply and let you speak.
“You ran into me.” You said lamely, the tips of your ears felt hot. Like lava was slowly being poured onto your head. Price’s eyebrows furrowed, his navy eyes studying you. Even on one crutch, he seemed to tower over you in a way that made you antsy.
“Why are you red?” He asked, the question caught you off guard. Making you falter for a second time, “I-What?”
Price’s eyes narrowed a bit, a finger pointed directly at you. “Your face. It's red,” It wasn't a jab, more like he was observing a simple fact. Suddenly you became hyper-aware of the heat spreading across your face. You touched your cheek, and the pads of your fingers burned at the touch.
Oh my god.
Your face was hot, it was flushed. You were blushing. Blushing. In front of Price.
You swallowed, feeling a bob in your throat. It was like you were in one of those dreams where you showed up to school naked. “I'm allergic-” You blurted out.
A beat of silence ensued, and Price raised a single brow. “Allergic?” He said, to which you responded with a hard nod. Think, think- what was a believable lie? “Yes… to the dessert paste.”
Price didn't look skeptical now, he just looked downright confused. “What the hell is dessert paste?” He questioned, while a good question, you didn't want to stand around to explain it to him while your face looked like the cover of a period ad. You shook your head, steering around him like a robot.
“Ask soap.” You said as you made your escape, “I'm going to the med tent so I don't go into anaphylactic shock.”
That was a lie, you were going to the bathroom to rethink your career and splash cold water on your face. Leaving Price a standing statue, a perplexed look on his face.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
A pack of 8 beers was slammed down onto the small table in front of where you were sitting. The bottles lightly clanked together, you looked up. “What’s this?” You asked, Soap stood in front of you with a confident grin.
“This is how we’re going to make it through our last 10 hours in this shit hole.” He proclaimed, his hands on his hips.
It was late, everyone but Price was in the sleeping tent. True to Soap’s words, in 10 hours you and the rest of 141 were finally going to load up into the heli and return to the original base. Thank goodness too, you didn't think you could stomach another meal here. Ghost looked over from his cott, “The hell did you get that from?”
Soap waved him off, smoothing over his poor example of a mohawk. “A magician never reveals his secrets.” He fished into his pant pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, grabbing one of the bottles he flicked the cap off with a soft pop’ “Since it is our last night, why not celebrate?” He went on.
You eyed the pack suspiciously, if it came from here it was probably shit beer. But it was still something, you shrugged. You reached for one, “I'll take what I can get.” You sighed.
Grabbing a bottle you snatched Soap’s knife to knock off the cap. Throwing your head back as you took a generous swig, it burned down your throat. The pungent flavor making your nose scrunch and your mouth curl. Soap did the same, smacking his lips as he swallowed. “Well…It could be worse.” He muttered.
Ghost and Gaz followed suit, walking over to your space and grabbing two bottles. After some time had passed the four of you had settled into a sort of circle, you were two beers in and things were already getting fuzzy. You didn't normally drink, mostly because you were a lightweight. But when you did drink, you got drunk. You were tipping your head back with laughter at every story, the warmth in your stomach making the tent somehow feel cozy.
Soap reached for his third bottle but Gaz swatted his hand away, “Leave some for Price Jhonny.” He scolded, Soap simply rolled his eyes and groaned. “The old man won't care, he only drinks at those shitty pubs. He's a stickler bout not drinkin’ on base, something about ‘not mixing business with pleasure’” He mocked, doing in your opinion, a decent Price impression. You chucked.
“I don't think Price takes ‘pleasure’ in anything, he's such a stick up the ass he wouldn't know fun if it hit him in the face.” You breathed, and while not the most articulate thing to say, your tongue and thoughts were loose enough that you didn't care.
Ghost’s mouth curled into a knowing smirk, “For someone who hates Price, you sure do love to talk about him any chance someone brings him up.” He said smugly, earning snickers from both Soap and Gaz.
“Oh fuck off will you?” You grumbled to Ghost, this whole teasing you about Price thing was getting old fast. “I say one thing and you guys act like I have some schoolgirl crush on him.”
Soap grinned, “You said it lass, not us.” He coughed abruptly when you smacked him in the stomach, making him lean forward to catch his breath. You glanced at Ghost who’s hands were now raised in surrender.
“Come off it [Name], we’re just teasing, you're not doing yourself any favors by acting with him the way you do.” He commented, which only confused you. All you did was argue with him, where was there room for speculation? The look on your face must've told them everything they needed to know.
“What do I do that gives off that impression even remotely?” You said defensively, they all exchanged looks.
Soap spoke up, “It's not just you bonnie, Price acts differently around you too. It just gives off a certain impression. Some people just take it the wrong way.” There was an underlying uncomfortableness to his words that you didn't miss. And who were ‘some people??’
Ghost smacked him upside the head, earning a startled grunt. “Fuckin’ twat, Soap doesn't know what he's saying.” Ghost said facing you. “He's already tipsy, don't take what he's saying to heart.” Soap was holding his head, shooting a glare at the lieutenant.
You shook your head, not ready to let it go. “No, who's some people? And what did you mean when you said ‘taking it the wrong way?’” Your eyes narrowed in on all three of them, waiting for someone to speak first. Gaz looked away, immediately giving him away as the weakest link. “Gaz what's he talking about?” You asked firmly.
He tensed up, glancing at Ghost and then back to you. “It's really nothing, it's just a silly rumor.” Ghost shot him a firm look, “Kyle-” He warned.
A rumor? What the hell was there to talk about? The last time you'd heard of a rumor going around about yourself was in high school, it wasn't a pleasant experience, to say the least. Your lips pursed into a tight line, something about how secretive they were being set you off. “What rumor?” You said, after a minute of silence, you slowly got more frustrated. “If it's about me I deserve to know.”
Ghost didn't speak, neither did Gaz, but Soap did. He blew out a sigh, glancing back at Ghost who was maintaining strict eye contact with you. “There is a bit of a widespread rumor back at base that you've been shaggin’ the boss. People started calling you Captain’s Girl.”
The pit of your stomach dropped.
You felt dizzy, looking between the three of them. Waiting for one of them to break, to smile and say ‘got you!’ but it never came. “You're joking right?” You said, laughing nervously, the longer the silence the more nauseous you became.
Ghost shook his head, his eyes hard but his demeanor a bit solemn. “We didn't want you to know for obvious reasons. Thought it would make things worse between the two of ya’ and it was just too far.” You swallowed, this was a joke. This was a joke and they were just teasing. When nobody spoke after the reality set in.
Of course, this would happen to you, you worked your ass off just to be respected in a field dominated by men. You were asked to be a part of 141. But all people saw was a slut who worked her way up the ladder by playing Miss ‘Hard to Get.’
“We tried to stop it as best we could trust us, it's just a little hard to keep quiet when word spreads fast,” Gaz interjected, his eyebrows scrunched in…guilt? Second-hand embarrassment? Sadness? You couldn't tell.
You sat there in silence, processing everything. “But- but I'm not. I'm not sleeping with him.” You sputtered.
Soap placed a hand on your shoulder, “We know you ain't. You don't need to listen to those people anyways, it's just barrack talk, people needing a story to make their lives more interesting.” A well of emotions started to flood your senses, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the gravity of the situation hitting you.
Captain’s girl.
What. The. Fuck.
This was Price’s fault. It had to have been, Soap said he was acting weird. Maybe this was all his elaborate plan to destroy your career and kick you off 141 for fraternization. It had to have been him, right? You weren't thinking as clearly as you would have liked considering you were borderline drunk, but that didn't matter. You shot up from where you were sitting, making Soap jump.
Stumbling you started to make a beeline for the entrance, Gaz also got up and followed you, much to your chagrin. “[Name]? Where are you going??” He called after you.
“To find Price!” (And kill him.) You shouted back angrily, storming outside before Gaz had the chance to stop you. Obviously, you didn't think this through enough because it was pitch dark outside. And Price was nowhere in sight, fuck.
Whatever, you could search this place for hours if you had to. He was bound to pop up somewhere, like how the tide is drawn to the moon you and Price always had a way of being pulled into each other. You stormed through the dark, almost tripping on your own feet once or twice in the process.
You'd been there long enough that you could tell what area was what. Even in the pitch-black cloak of the dark, you could feel your heartbeat in your head. It was like your body was pulsing with the rhythm of your anger. Just as you were about to start shouting his name a light caught your eye. You swiveled your neck so fast it burned the muscles in your nape. Low and behold it was Price walking out of the medical tent with his single crutch.
He stopped when he noticed you, his face a mix of confusion. “What are you doing? I thought I told you guys not to go outside after lights out?”
You felt every emotion rush back to you at the sound of his voice, the sight of his face, the fucking absurdity of the whole situation. Your hands clenched into fists, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! I thought you sucked before but I underestimated how much of a jackass you could be!”
Price stood there like a deer caught in headlights, so baffled he couldn't even speak. “Excuse me?”
You marched straight up to him, “You heard me. Apparently making my life a living hell wasn't enough for you was it? You sadistic fuck. Do you get off on torturing me? Is that it?” You spat. The heat in your face rising with each word.
He didn't say anything, his navy eyes looking at you like you belonged in an insane asylum. After a minute of silence, he breathed, “[Name]. Realistically I should be laying into you right now and giving you every single punishment there is for the rest of your stay here for cursing me out after lights out with no provocation on my end. But, I'm going to give you one chance to explain why you're acting like a screaming banshee before I send your ass straight to the bins.”
His words only ticked you off further, well two could play dumb. “You know exactly why I'm angry! No provocation is such bullshit. You- You just think I'm so stupid don't you?!” You were stumbling, your mouth felt heavy. It was like your mind was moving faster than your body could keep up with.
“Are you drunk?” He asked incredulously. You shook your head, “No! I mean yes I had a few drinks but I'm not drunk. Stop deflecting-” You rambled on.
His eyes turned to narrow slits, “I don't even know what I'm deflecting- you can't just start making a scene and expect me to know why you're angry. I'm not a mind reader.” He groaned.
“The name! The rumor- whatever you call it. You spread a rumor about me to the entire base that I'm sleeping with you! People are calling me your girl! The guys told me, everyone thinks I'm some slut because of you!” Everything in your body was burning, it felt good to finally yell at him but the words hit you hard.
You were labeled as the slut. No matter what you did there was always going to be a man overshadowing you just because of a preemptive notion that you were weaker. Something you'd spent your life fighting was now your reality.
Price’s eyes went wide, he almost resembled a wooden board. For a moment his eyes softened, like he was taking pity on you. “That's what this is about.” He breathed, “Look, I’m just as upset about that rumor and the name as you are. I don't know who started it but I can give you my word it wasn't me. You can ask any one of the guys and they will tell you the same thing.”
You started to speak but he raised a hand to stop you, “-I know it's not fair. But the damage has already been done, the thing about rumors is that they pass. And nobody thinks you're a slut. You're just as capable as anyone else on this team.” He said calmly.
It was silent for a moment. You didn't really know what to do or what to believe. All you had to go on was his word, which wouldn't normally hold much weight but something about him seemed so genuine. “I- how do I know you're not lying to my face? You hate me. And I’m just supposed to believe a random person made this rumor up when you've been trying to kick me off the team from the start.”
Price halted for a moment, his face reflecting a series of conflicting emotions. “I don't hate you, and I am not trying to kick you off.”
“Well, it sure as hell doesn't seem that way, even Soap said you act differently around me. I don't understand why you fucking hate me so much when almost all I ever do is try and suck up to you!” You shouted, your voice slightly slurring with how fast the words escaped your lips.
A vein bulged in Price’s temple, his jaw working with his growing temperament. “I don't know how often we have to go through this same conversation before you get it through your thick head. I don't hate you, I'm hard on you. There's a difference.”
“Well, that's not what it looks like to me. Especially not to the mystery person who just conjured a rumor that we’re sleeping together out of thin air.” You seethed, until now you'd been standing a few feet away from him. But somehow, amid the argument, you found yourself now uncomfortably close.
Price scowled down at you, “What do you want me to say to you?! That I'm sorry I also got caught up in some dumb rumor. That I'm sorry you got your feelings hurt because I was a little harsh.”
Your mind was telling you to communicate your feelings like a normal person. The alcohol and your heart told you your fist connecting with his face was the better option. And right now, your heart (plus the alcohol) was winning.
“I want you to fucking show me you don't hate me! You can say all you want that I'm just being dramatic but there's obviously a reason why I think you hate me.” You fired back.
The two of you stood there for a moment, his eyes drilling into yours. A scowl on Price’s lips and his eyebrows pinched together, there was something about the heat of the moment that made you more on edge. You were hyperaware of everything around you, most importantly you were hyperaware of your proximity to him. The night air was cold but you were on fire.
“You want me to show you? Fine.” He grit out, and before you had time to react he was on you.
His hand was on your neck, thick and warm. Pulling you close so that his lips captured yours in what you could only describe as ‘a hungry kiss.’ The coarse hair of his beard tickled your skin and before you even knew what you were doing, you started kissing him back.
Fuck. He tasted like smoke and whiskey, a woody smell clung to him like sap. Greedily your hands pulled at him, your fingers bunching the cotton of his shirt like he'd disappear. You'd kissed men before but never in your life had anyone kissed you like this. The kiss was hot, desperate, almost angry. His tongue slid along yours, you felt the drag of his teeth nip at your bottom lip and his throaty groan when you only pulled him closer.
You couldn't remember why he was kissing you, or why you started kissing him back. You didn't know why you were so angry, nor did you pay mind to the chance that anyone could walk outside and see the two of you.
You heard his crutch absentmindedly fall to the ground, clattering against the hard dirt. Price's other hand snaked to the back of your head, curling his thick digits into the locks of your hair. His nose brushed against yours, he felt so warm. Asshole or not this man knew how to kiss.
“[Name]!”
Gaz’s voice broke you out of the trance you seemed to have been under. Immediately you and Price tore apart, your heart jackhammered in your ribcage. You looked at Price, he looked at you.
His blue eyes were blown wide, his lips parted and shiny with the reminisce of your spit. A reddish tinge colored his ears and cheeks. He looked horrified.
You didn't fair much better. You probably looked like a gaping fish. You'd just kissed Price. Price had kissed you. You two had been kissing. Holy shit.
Footsteps snapped your attention away from him, Gaz ran to meet you. His breath heavy like he’d been running around for a good amount of time. “[Name] Price didn’t start the rumor- you left before I could tell you. I-” He stopped, his eyes darting between both you and Price. You probably looked as guilty as you felt. “I…uhm I guess you two worked it out?”
There was an awkward silence before anyone spoke, Price cleared his throat, quickly wiping his lips. “She’s aware… You two go back to the tent, it’s late. We leave early tomorrow so get a good sleep.”
You were still in shock, could you even move your limbs? Another silence hovered over the three of you like a looming dust cloud. Gaz awkwardly shuffled to you, patting your shoulder as if to say ‘party's over, let’s go.’ He nodded at Price, “Right, see you in the morning Cap.”
Before you knew it, your legs were moving as Gaz led you back to the tent. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, “You alright?” He said hesitantly. You didn't know what to say to him, you didn't even know what you were feeling. And you doubted saying, ‘Honestly I don't know because two seconds ago Price's tongue was down my throat and I can't tell if I'm turned on or horrified,’ was appropriate.
So, you settled for a simple: “I’m fine.” Gaz gave you a skeptical look, but he chose not to comment on it. Once you got back to the tent Soap and Ghost had already started to get into their respective cots. Soap gave you a funny look over his shoulder, “What happened to you? You look shell-shocked.” He laughed.
You didn't even have the energy to respond, giving him a disgruntled grimace in return. You fell into your cot, burying your face into the thick sleeping bag. Your cheeks burned, and the taste of Price still lingered on your lips.
Apart of you wished that you were blackout drunk, then maybe it would be easier knowing whatever happened would disappear by the morning. But his groans, his hands in your hair, his lips, they were carved into your brain. And they weren't leaving.
You had to grapple with the reality that Price had kissed you. And you had kissed him back.
.・゜゜・  ・゜゜・..・゜゜・  ・゜゜・.
Hey, wait! Don't go!
Well… hello there. It's me again! To those of you who aren't familiar, you can call me Baebae. And to those who are welcome back! I've written fanfiction a bit before (check out my other stuff on my home page) but nothing like this. So that makes this special, and I'm happy you can join me while I embark on this new journey.
There is no spice in this chapter but it is coming in the next part. There are only two parts to this so you won’t have to wait that long. Trust me I am trying my best to crank out the next one so I’ll try my best to be quick!!
I would be so, so, so, soooo grateful if you would like, follow, or repost. Don't feel any pressure but I love hearing any feedback you can provide as I am relatively new to this and it spurs me on to know people enjoy what I put out. If you so choose you can message me or comment if you'd like me to @ you in the next part so you're notified. <3
Anyway, hope you enjoyed this and I'll see you in the next part. Toodles! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
.・゜゜・  ・゜゜・..・゜゜・  ・゜゜・.
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pressplay-if · 3 months ago
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demo (prologue + ch.1 & 2, 118k words)
please mind the content warnings!
cog forum post
You are one of the most famous yet mysterious characters of the 21st century rock scene. 
It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. You and your friends formed a band, and after years of practice in a garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.
It’s a meteoric rise— until it isn’t. 
And now, a decade after your band has disappeared from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be. 
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Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)
Play as a pop-rock vocalist
Name your band and customize your music, lyrics and image
Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears 
Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/possibly stalker
Give one hell of an interview
Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac… and all sorts of music-related drama.
TW: themes of mental illness, unhealthy relationships, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm, SA-related trauma
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ROs:
Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”
She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…
Stevie is tall and skinny with light brown skin and extremely long, curly black hair which she always wears in a wet look. She has big, dark brown eyes and a soft face.
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Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”
Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget.
Paul is very tall, broad-backed and thickly muscled with light skin, shoulder-length slicked back brown hair and bottle green eyes.
Paulette is of average height with an hourglass/slim thick figure. She has dark brown hair with parted bangs and light blonde strands dyed into it. Her eyes are bottle green.
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Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”
Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past. 
Angel is of average height and build with a warm beige complexion and long black hair. He has a square jaw with an occasional five o’clock shadow and brown eyes. 
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Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them.”
Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.
Lincoln (m) is short and lean, with an angular face and wavy blond hair. His eyes are cobalt blue. 
Lincoln (f) is petite and tan, with a youthful, round face and chin-length blond beach waves. Her eyes are cobalt blue.
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Others:
Maddox Wells (m), drummer
Another one of your oldest friends. You don’t much like to talk about what happened with him.
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Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they used to try to make me disappear with their fog machine.”
After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.
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Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”
Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean, to be honest.
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Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”
The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.
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Addendum: NSFW alphabet masterlist
Zima pt. 1 and pt. 2
Stevie
Lincoln
Angel
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Please consider reblogging <3
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dragonsholygrail · 5 months ago
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Monster bfs and their reaction to you getting hurt by little inconsequential things that you react to in pain at first but then they wildly overexaggerate.
Werewolf bf would hear you whimper and come running to find you. He sees you have a splinter and he’s whining and whimpering at the irritated skin on your finger. With his claws he carefully gets it out of you before licking it and nuzzling into your palm. Before you can even argue he’s saying you’re too hurt to do anything else today and brings you into the bed for cuddles.
Vampire bf smells you before he hears you cry out in pain. In a flash he’s by your side, eyes wild as he looks over you. When he sees the small cut on your leg his heart lurches, even when you say it looks worse than it is. He falls to his knees before you, his mind a cloud of worry and hunger. He laps at your cut, slowly licking the wound to reveal it in its entirety. Despite the way his veins hum with the taste of your blood his love for you is more pressing and so he runs to grab your frequently used roll of gauze and patches you up.
Dragon bf has loved having you in his cave and among his hoard. You’re his most treasured possession after all so there is no where else that you belong except by his side. But when you stumble and slide down a mountain of gold, hitting your head on an old crown, your bf cares no longer for any of his treasures besides you. Despite your protests he moves all of his treasure to the back of the cave before filling the rest of it with the fluffiest pillows and the softest blankets. Making sure that if you ever fall again it will only be met with comfort.
Orc bf who always displayed his weapon collection with pride. But he comes rushing over as soon as he hears you yelp, only to discover you ended up pricking yourself on the sharp spikes of one of his clubs. You try to assure him that you’re fine and it just surprised you. But when you come home the next day you see them nowhere to be found. Ready to give your bf a firm talking to, he directs your gaze upwards where he’s displayed his weapons much higher up now to not risk you getting hurt. He stubbornly refuses to move them back down when you talk to him and there’s no way you can reach or even carry them to put them back. Your orc bf explains that it’s worth them being harder to see so long as you’re safe.
God, there are so many more I could do but I didn’t want to make this too long.
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j0celynh0rr0r · 6 months ago
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Trying to get away?
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maishiia · 10 months ago
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Underrated sapphic media? Fried Green Tomatoes is first on my list
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thebarontheabyss · 1 year ago
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This tale starts with your death.
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Read WIP here
(Current wordcount: 240k!)
You remember only the moth, carrying you through the cosmos.
And so, the Abyss beckons you.
Now, you are a spirit, immortal. After a meeting with the Grim Reaper, Death, you were gifted with a peculiar inheritance: a bar.
This mysterious establishment and the Abyss around it serve as a nexus, connected to every realm in existence. It's a haven where spirits and deities, devils and angels, converge to drink and revel.
Yet, beneath the surface, an unease stirs. A voice calls out in your dreams—a loneliness that echoes through the Abyss. Why does it seek you?
A motley crew of spirits and immortals, each hailing from distant corners of the realms, stands with you. Bonds are waiting to be formed, or even love that transcends death itself—perhaps even with Death themself.
Manage your bar, where serving a drink to a god or an eldritch entity is just another day's work. Unravel a cosmic mystery, go on a date in infernal Hell, witness the universe's creation, or unlock the arcane secrets of magic.
Your new afterlife awaits.
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A narrative-driven experience focused on character development and storytelling.
Play as any gender or none.
Shape your personality through meaningful choices.
Engage in deep and complex relationships with a diverse cast of characters.
Romance mortals and immortals alike - if you want poly, purely physical, or asexual - they will respond in kind.
Explore the afterlife, visit realms of immortals and gods, and uncover the dark secrets of the bar.
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M\F\NB (Poly or Monogamous paths) Death reveals a surprising warmth beneath their eternal duty.
Is there room for love within their everlasting embrace? Read more >>>
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M\F (Poly or Monogamous paths) This devilish being, a powerful magnet of desire, seeks more than power in the bar’s shadows.
Who dares to pursue the heart behind the flame?
Read more >>>
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M\F (Poly or Monogamous paths) The Witch, with their feline companion, seeks a lost soul, their magic stirring trouble and passion alike.
Can a mortal love thrive in the spirit realm?
Read more >>>
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M (Monogamous path)
A mercenary turned security guard, Hastur carries an immortal burden, guilt born of past battles and sacrifices.
Will your love heal his wounds?
Read more >>>
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NB (Monogamous path) The spectral diva enchants with their voice, their performance a dance of beauty tinged with the sorrow of eternal life.
Can your love find a new song for them?
Read more >>>
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M\F\NB (Monogamous path) A shade keeps the bar’s order, and his silence holds the weight of cosmic secrets and the tapestry of existence.
Will your heart fall for the being behind the shadow?
Read more >>>
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With feathers dark and wit sharp, The Raven’s history is as rich as the bar itself. He offers piercing insight beneath a layer of humor.
Read more >>>
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The stern soothsayer-turned-accountant Yaga guards the bar’s fortune while wrestling with her own spectral regrets and wisdom.
Read more >>>
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Shelly, the bar’s assistant, brings life-affirming warmth but seeks a new family to fill the void of her lost one.
Read more >>>
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Welcome to the cosmos: the tapestry of existence, a complex weave of ever-changing realms. Each domain is a thread in the grand design.
Read more >>>
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Feedback on any typos, grammatical errors, or other textual issues.
Notes on any continuity errors to ensure a smooth and logical progression.
Thoughts and opinions on the plot, characters, and overall narrative experience.
Don't be shy about sending your feedback - as small as it may be. I'll be answering and taking each into consideration. You are very welcome to post your reviews here!
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The game explores themes of Death in various forms, including suicide.
Alcohol indulgence and its various side effects (hangovers, vomiting, etc.)
Sexual themes (currently only non-explicit)
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seraphinitegames · 5 months ago
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The Wayhaven Chronicles Book Four - Demo One
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The Wayhaven Chronicles: Book Four
A change of career, a deepening romance, and barely any time off from training makes for a hectic time for your character!
It would be a shame if something else were added to that ever-growing pile…
But it seems the chance for a break is fast vanishing as something stirs beneath the ground of Wayhaven.
Something old.
Something powerful.
Something with a very keen interest in you.
Delve into Wayhaven once again, where a new powerful enemy is not only unleashed upon the town, but unleashes something wholly unexpected on you!
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Here it is! The first demo for Book Four!!!! I'm so excited to share this with you, I really hope you enjoy it as much as I loved creating it, and I hope it teases what is yet to come! Book Four really feels like something special! https://dashingdon.com/play/seraphinite/the-wayhaven-chronicles-book-four-demo/mygame/
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