#like yeah you can just take two if the line is linear

[ssidebloggg]

Excel really can just do anything huh

[ifonlyyuweremine]

Captain’s Girl [Part II]

John Price x Reader (Call of Duty)

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

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

Word count? Do you even need to ask?

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Home sweet home.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then just kiss me again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One kiss.” Price breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Atta girl, so good f’me.”

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Spoiler Alert: Bad. It could be bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Free of charge my ass.

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

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

Pound!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock knock knock’

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

Knock knock knock!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked back at you, “Deal.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Took you long enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How come?” you asked simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Gaz.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I'll think about it.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Price.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt your cheeks go hot, the warmth seeping up into your ears. Taking compliments was never your strong suit. Price pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead, his hands moving from your waist to the belt and zipper of your pants. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “Baby lay back for me.”

Well with that voice, you couldn't bear to not comply. You hesitantly lowered your back onto the flat wood of the table. Propping yourself on your elbows, watching as Price slowly pulled your pants down to reveal your undergarments. His eyes flickered to you then back to your covered pussy, an insatiable hunger in those pools of navy blue. He lowered to his knees, hooking your thighs under his biceps. Price pressed a few soft nips and kisses to the burning skin of your inner thighs, earning a few soft gasps on your part.

Your nails scraped against the wood, biting down on your lip to keep your voice down. With one hand, Price hooked his finger against the fabric of your panties, parting it to the side to show your soaked cunt. A small groan left him at the sight of you, he glanced back at you. “You’re gonna be quiet now right?”

Without a thought behind it, you nodded. Desperate to have his mouth on you, he leaned in, flattening his tongue to lick a long stripe up your folds. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering for a moment. When he started to swirl his tongue over your clit, you almost broke. “Price-” You gasped out, your voice a whisper.

He hummed against your cunt, suctioning his mouth against your clit. “No Price here, we’re far past that love. Use my name baby, use my name and I'll listen.” He murmured, the vibrations of his voice making your mind dizzy. One of your hands threaded into his short hair, guiding his face against your pussy.

“Fuck- John, feels good. Feels so good.” You whispered, your voice almost a mewl. His dull nails dug into the meat of your thigh, groaning softly as he lapped at your weeping cunt. Your eyes squeezed shut, all of your concentration honing in on trying not to moan out loud.

His tongue switched between fast flicks of your clit and drawn-out open-mouthed kisses to your mound. When you got more desperate you guided him to where you wanted, and John was happy to oblige.

Your back was now flat on the table, thighs locked around Price’s head like a boa constrictor. Your voice was now silent moans and labored breaths, and with every passing moment, it was harder to stay quiet. Your nails tugged at his hair, gripping onto him like a lifeline. John suddenly pushed his tongue into your hole without warning, pushing the tip of the muscle in and out with vigor. You nearly screamed, slapping a hand over your mouth to bite on your knuckle.

Price was devouring you like a man starving.

Your back arched off the wood of the table, methodically moving your hips in tandem with his tongues movements. The slurry of noises coming from John’s mouth and your cunt was obscene. Wet smacks of his lips mixed with small groans and deep gasps.

It felt like you were floating, your senses muddied beneath the feeling of his mouth. Your body was burning, a coil in your stomach just begging to snap. You bucked your hips into his face, begging him to quell the fires raging in your body. Price seemed to catch on, he held one of your thighs tight while the other slid between your legs. His mouth hovering over your pussy, he slipped a digit into your aching cunt.

You silently cried out, your core tightly gripping his finger as he curled it inside you. Then, he slowly worked in a second, mimicking the ‘come here’ motion with his fingers buried deep in your pussy. “Atta’ girl, little longer for me.” John breathed against you, his breath fanning against your cunt.

Suddenly he was on you again, swirling his tongue over your swollen bud while curling his digits in you. You could have died happy then and there, everything felt so good you couldn't think. Your nails dug into the table, marking it with long stripes.

Between his fingers and his tongue, you were a goner. Your vision went white, trying your hardest not to scream out to the heavens. “John- shit I can’t I'm gonna cum.” You whined through heavy pants, tears pooling in the corner of your iris from the stimulation.

“Come on then, cum for me. Let go love, cum on my mouth.” He murmured against your sopping pussy, flicking his tongue over your clit and speeding the movement of his fingers.

That was all it took before you came, hard. Your back arched and your head fell back, biting down on your hand so hard that it hurt. Your thighs shook as the wave of your orgasm crashed over you, white-hot and mind-blowing. And John fucked you through it, never letting up on his page until you fell limp like a bag of flour. After those precious few moments, he gently slid his fingers from your cunt. Pressing a soft kiss to your thigh before setting it down slowly.

You were gone. Your brain turned to mush, a daze of post-orgasm exhaustion and giddiness. Slowly you blinked your eyes back open, letting John slowly guide you back to a sitting position. He held the small of your back while his other hand held your face.

“You alright?” John murmured, his mouth shiny with your slick. You couldn't help but laugh, your forehead hitting his lightly.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm alright.” You breathed. The after-glow hit you hard, but there was still the looming anxiety of the mission. You knew the moment wouldn't last forever, you just hoped you could bask in it a little longer.

John sensed the shift, knowing it was his turn to be brave, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. His eyes soft, “Hey, like you said, we’re gonna be okay. Nothing is set in stone yet.” He whispered, making you nod.

“Right. We’re going to come out of this.” You said, more for yourself. He nodded, the both of you knew deep down it was wishful thinking. But maybe having something to hope for, something to come back to, would push you to fight even harder to keep it.

And in the end, you were willing to do anything to keep this.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Everything around you was dark, with an air pungent with dust and grime. The walls only grew bigger and shadowed as you passed, ducking behind doors and boxes to remain out of sight. Just like last time everyone was paired in either a group of two or three, you were with Ghost. You had to give him credit where credit was due, as large and burly as he was, he was silent as he moved.

The bazaar was large, with huge openings in the ceilings covered by hanging fabric. Open doors that connected rooms and massive lamps draped from the walls. It might've even been nice had it not been for its years of inactivity, and under the cover of night, it was simply eerie. Wires covered the walls and ceiling, some even hanging down low enough to snag someone if you weren't careful.

You weren't quite sure what exactly you were looking for, after all, you didn't know what this aforementioned ‘bio-chemical lab’ looked like. And if it was easily portable, it wouldn't exactly look like your standard chemistry lab.

“[Name].”

Ghost spoke into your headpiece, standing several feet away. You snapped out of your train of thought, looking back at him.

“Let’s get a move on, the others are on the top floor. I'm guessing it’s near the bottom, or even underground, be on high alert. There's bound to be people this time around.” He said, earning a nod from your end.

With that, you made your way further into the bazaar. Gun at the ready, you weaved through rooms and piles of storage and other junk. When you got to a large room on the north side of the building, tucked away between rubble and containers your body tensed. There wasn't anything unordinary about it, it looked exactly like every other room, but something felt off. A few steps into the space and you had your explanation for the uneasiness you felt.

With an odd thunk’ of your boot on the ground, you looked back at Ghost. He looked back at you, the same expression on his face, it was hollow.

You came off it, brushing your foot over the area again to remove the grime and dust. It was a different color and texture than the ground. “Well I’ll be damned, you were right.” You breathed, “-Think this opens up from the outside?” Ghost kneeled on the ground next to whatever you found. Pushing his hand over it and sending small clouds of dust into the air.

“Doesn't matter if it does.” He said, fishing out a knife from his bullet vest. Finding a dibet with his finger in the ground he wedged the blade in between the surface, pulling up until the ground lifted.

With a grunt, he wrapped his fingers around the edge of the trap door. Pulling until the structure revealed a human-sized rectangular hole in the ground. A latter peeking out from inside the ground pressed into the side of the dirt. You stared down at it, knowing this was it. Clicking your headpiece, you spoke, “Cap, we got something. Northside, ground floor, it’s a trap door in the last room.”

After a moment you got a response, “Copy. See what you can find, we’re coming. If you see anything don't think, just shoot. I want you and Ghost alive.” Price’s voice rang loud and clear in your ear.

With a nod, you looked back down at the hole, even with night vision, it was hard to make out the bottom. Ghost was the first to go down, with you following suit the minute he gave the all-clear to come down. Inside was dark and smelled like mildew, a tunnel leading further into the unknown. The same wires that hung down from up on the surface were strung about the dirt walls. It wasn't spacious in the tunnel, but it didn't make you feel claustrophobic.

Ghost raised his gun, nodding to you to follow as you made your way deeper. It wasn't long until you reached a door, it wasn't impenetrable by any means, but it was going to be a pain to get through. But the thing that caught your attention most was the faint light that peeked from the cracks of the hinges. Ghost looked at you, “Get back, and I’ll break the door, you follow in straight after and shoot at anything you see.”

As said, with a firm kick, Ghost kicked the door down. The metal swung open with a crackle, and with your gun at the ready, you quickly followed him inside. The first thing you heard was voices, panicked and deep. Your eyes met a man in the corner of the room, quickly scrambling up to his feet and reaching the rifle that lay in front of him. Just like you were told, you didn't think, you acted on instinct.

Your gun went off, and his body was forced back by the blow. Blood spattered the wall behind him, his head rolling limp on his shoulders. You heard another shot fired, looking over to Ghost who was in firing position, and then to the direction of his rifle. Another body, this one standing, keeled over onto the floor, pooling red onto the ground. A deafening silence followed after, you waited for more voices but they never came.

“Just two?” You said, looking between the two. “-and they don't look local.” You muttered, focusing on the pale skin and European features. You looked back to Ghost who was standing a few feet away. “-Think they might be Russian like Soap said?”

Ghost shrugged, “It's possible.” He gruffed, looking around the room. It was emptier than you expected, with a table, lamps, flasks, and a few weapons. Another voice rang out from somewhere in the cavern before you could look any further. Coming from another hallway that you had missed when you first saw the room.

You quickly ran against the wall near the hallway entrance, pressing yourself into the hard surface so you wouldn't be seen. Ghost followed suit, and not a second later another man ran out, rifle in hand. And just like before you fired, watching the body hit the ground like a sac of potatoes.

This one looked like he could be from Urzik. You looked back at Ghost, who pushed off the wall, ducking into the hallway. It wasn't long before you entered a much bigger cavern, full of boxes and equipment. Open containers of guns with ammunition, tables covered with cylinder-shaped lab equipment. You could hardly classify this as a lab, more like a glorified basement with makeshift tools. Large computers also lined what little space they could occupy. Florescent overhead lights cast the room in a putrid dimish glow.

Before you had time to react a bullet brushed past your arm. Sending a burning shock through your system. You ducked, trying to avoid what you couldn't see.

“They're shooting!” You yelled out to Ghost, finding refuge in a large container that you hid behind.

You looked around, desperate to see where the firing was coming from. Your eyes caught three at first glance, one person across the room, hiding behind another container. Another fired from a doorway, and the last one hid behind a table. All three aiming for either your box of Ghost. Your hands held your gun with an iron grip, turning your knuckles white.

You peeked out from behind the container, aiming for the second guy in the doorway. Your first shot missed, but your second shot straight through his forehead. Ghost, from wherever he was, took out the third guy from behind the table. Leaving the one behind the other container, peaking back out you felt another bullet fly past you. You scrambled back, your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

You called out to Ghost, “I can't get him! You're gonna have to take the last one!” After another shot to your hiding place, chipping the wood of the contained, Ghost called back.

“Copy! I've got him!” He yelled, a final shot echoing through the cavern before everything fell into an eerie silence. You tentatively rounded the corner of the container, looking back at the first guy's hiding spot. When all you saw was his body flat on the ground, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You heard Ghost call to you again, “[Name], you hurt?” You stood up, looking over in the direction of his voice. He was behind one of the walls of the hallway, pressed against the dirt wall.

“No, I'm all good. You?” You said back, scanning him for any sign of injury. He shook his head, letting his gun fall to his side.

“I'm clear.” He said, walking out from the hallway. You looked back at the three bodies adorning the floor, which made six in total so far. These three also looked like they were locals, you walked over to one. Moving your foot to hover over their hand, you kicked the gun away, staring at the blackened tattoo on his palm. Before, Soap had mentioned that rebel groups in Urzik shared a tattoo on their palms. Much like a gang tattoo, it united them under a common collective.

You looked back at Ghost, “What do Urzik terrorists have to do with us? If this really is a problem with uprisings against their government, why would the SAS and the CIA get involved?”

Your mind flashed to the conversation between Price and the commander back at the checkpoint base. He had said that if it had been up to him, 141 would never have been involved. Laswell had been the one to push for the team's involvement, even with its potholes. Then came Shepard, whose disappearance had led to your involvement with the team in the beginning. The only link to this you had to Shepard was his name being mentioned back at base.

Jesus, your head hurt just trying to think about it.

Ghost walked over to you, “My advice wouldn't be to think too hard about it [Name]. We’re doing a job, thinking about shite like this leads into a bigger rabbit hole than you think.”

You nodded, a frown settling onto your lips. Nothing about this sat right with you, but that was the cost you paid for being here in the first place.

“The important thing is, we located the lab. Now we just make sure there's nobody else so someone else can pick up the mess over here.” He said, making you nod along with him. Price and the other guys would probably be down any minute, that would make clearing everything out a hell of a lot easier.

You looked back at the man on the ground, staring into the fleshy eyes that held no light. You were reminded of the compound, staring into the eyes of the man who had shot Price’s foot. You didn't feel sorry, more hollow.

Ghost turned his back, looking over to the entranceway hall. And the split second for him to turn around was all it took for something to go wrong all over again. With no warning, you felt something burn your side, sharp and hot like lava. A hand yanked you back, snaked around your neck, and held you back to something firm. You could barely choke out a gasp, the thorn in your side sending shocks of pain through your body you didn't even know was possible.

Something cold pressed against your temple, you could barely process what was happening before you heard a click. Ghost whipped around at the noise, immediately holding up his rifle to whatever was behind you.

For a brief moment, time stopped. You were all too familiar with what was happening, you were being held at gunpoint. Nobody moved, Ghost's voice suddenly echoing through the silent room. “Shepard. Let her go.” He said.

You blinked, Shepard? Fuck, you didn't see that coming. You thought maybe he had a small part in the involvement, but you didn't expect him to actually be here. You tried to look at him, but his arm around your throat only tightened, making you squirm. The thing in your side, most likely a knife, only seemed to hurt more the longer it was left sticking out of you.

“Drop your gun, and I will.” His voice was cold, it sounded like sandpaper. His breath made your nostrils recoil in disgust.

Ghost shook his head, his eyes darting between yours and the man holding you. “You and I both know that's not happening.” The barrel of the gun pressed into your skin harder, making you wince. Your hands clawing at his arm to pry him off your neck.

“If you don't drop that gun, I will kill this one. And that's a promise.” He said, your body felt numb, and the lack of oxygen only seemed to make you all the weaker. You heard voices from beyond the hallway, your mind screaming for John. You needed him, you needed him to come and fix the mess you had gotten yourself into. Being a hostage was by far your least favorite activity.

Ghost swallowed, still pointing his gun at Shepard. “Shepherd, it's in your best interest that you let her go. You're not getting out of this, you know that. You shoot her and it’s just another kill added to your list of crimes, let’s not lengthen that sentence.”

Shepard snarled, “I'll be damned if I'm sent to prison, we can do this all-day lieutenant. You pull that trigger, and I fire. If you put the gun down, maybe we can negotiate something.”

You tried gasping for air, your airways closing up. Nails clawing at his shirt, like a caged animal trying to get out of its enclosure. From your squinted eyes you could make out the form of Price, Gaz, and Soap entering the room, guns at the ready. The pain in your side fired back up again as the blade twisted, making you yelp.

“Shepherd put the fucking gun down!” You absentmindedly recognized John's voice, your vision growing fuzzier by the second.

You tried your best to fight, thinking of anything you could to stay conscious. You thought of your friends, family, and John. Between the knife in your side, the gun against your head, and his arms around your throat it was a miracle you could even think. You blinked again, gasping for more air. You saw Ghost and Price, Soap a few feet away, Gaz must've been somewhere in the room as well.

“Get back or she's dead!” Shepard barked, his voice ringing in your ear. You saw blotches of black in your vision, your body slowly losing its feeling.

As you blacked out, you heard a gunshot fire.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A white light flooded your vision, making your face scrunch up in discomfort. It was harsh and almost painful, you tried shutting your eyes as tight as they could go, but it was burned into your retinas.

Your limbs felt sluggish, you couldn't lift your arms. It seemed like you could only move your face, after another minute of trying to shut out the light, you gave up. Blinking your eyes open, you saw said white light hanging down from an even whiter ceiling.

“Holy shit, you're awake.” A female voice said, making you halt. You knew that voice, your eyes darted to the sound. Turing your head from its apparent, laying position to follow your gaze. Your eyes met an older woman, she had bangs and blondish hair.

“Laswell?” You croaked, your voice was shot. It sounded like a frog, making you internally cringe.

Kate Laswell stood at the foot of your bed, her hands grabbed at your arm. “Don’t talk [Name], the nurse said you shouldn't be using your voice for the next couple of days.” She scolded. You grunted, your throat felt as dry as the Sahara.

The pain slowly started to come back, a deep-seated ache that made you wince. “What happened?” You breathed. Your mind was fuzzy, the last thing you remembered was being in the bazaar and being held at gunpoint by Shepherd.

Laswell pursed her lips in a line, obviously not too thrilled about the events that transpired. “Well, John told me after you passed out they managed to disarm Shepard. But by that point, you were already gone, so they got you out. After that, you were transported to the checkpoint base and now you're in the hospital.”

You were following up until the hospital part, last time you checked, the checkpoint base didn't have a full-fledged hospital. “Hospital where?” You croaked, looking at Laswell for an answer.

“D.C,” She said plainly, almost like it was obvious. “It was the easiest place I would be able to keep an eye on you until you woke up.”

You barely had the energy to be surprised, “Oh.” Was what you settled on. “Where is the rest of the team?” You asked.

She sighed, “John is here. Garrick and Ghost are still in Urzik for another day, they have other matters they need to sort out first. Soap also came here with you, though he's not in the hospital.”

You nodded along, a small part of you relaxed when you heard John's name. He was here, which meant he was most likely safe. Your eyes closed, “oh, good then.” You sighed, your voice a whisper. Any louder and it would sound like your vocal cords were being torn to ribbons.

Laswell looked down at you, a sadness in her eyes. Almost guilt, “[Name].” She said, grabbing your attention again, “-I’m pulling you off the team early.”

You froze, your eyes doubling in size. Maybe you misheard her, 141 was your family, she couldn't just pull you off. You still had a few more months with them! “What? Why?” You asked throatily.

She looked at you incredulously, “Because you almost died. Honestly, it was my fault in the beginning, I shouldn't have put you in the situation.” Your eyes narrowed, you tried to sit up but she placed a firm hand on your chest to keep you from doing so.

“Laswell, I’m fine. I don't need to be taken off 141, everyone in the world has probably had a near-death experience.” You protested, “-I want to keep being on the team, I know at first I was only doing this as a favor but I'm not anymore.”

Laswell looked at you, a bit stunned. Her eyes stared into yours, deciphering if you were really telling the truth. “Are you sure? I was only going to do it because I believed that is what’s in your best interest. But are you positive this is what you want? Even after what happened?”

You stared back at her, determined as ever. “I'm positive.”

There was a beat of silence before Laswell sighed, rubbing her face. “Okay,” she breathed. “But you're still not allowed to participate in anything until you're fully healed.” Your demeanor relaxed again, almost sinking into the mattress. It was a win, a small one, but a win nonetheless.

You looked back at her, “You said Price was here right?” You asked, trying your best to hide the eagerness in your tone.

She nodded, “Yes, he's outside. He's been coming with me to check on you.”

You could've run out of bed at that exact moment, from the first minute you'd woken up he was occupying half of your thoughts. “Could I talk to him…?” You asked, trying to disguise your desperation.

Laswell gave you a pointed look, obviously, she knew more than what she was letting on. “You have ten minutes, then I'm pulling him out so you can get more rest.”

You thanked her profusely, waiting in anticipation for John to walk through the door. You shimmied up into a sitting position, trying not to irritate the stitches in your side. After a minute, your captain walked through the door. His hair was a bit tousled, and his beard had been trimmed, but there were large bags under his blue eyes. Clad in an army-green cotton shirt with jeans. He was a sight for sore eyes that was for sure.

After a minute of staring he bolted across the room, enveloping you in a tight embrace. His hand holding the back of your head to his chest and his other arm wrapped around your back. You weakly tried to hug him back, inhaling his scent.

“You have no idea how worried I was.” He breathed, pulling away to get a good look at your face. His hands cupped your jaw like a precious jewel. You smiled, laughing to the best of your ability.

“Well, I'm alive. That's saying something.” You breathed, taking him in. You’d barely spent any time away from him, yet you missed him, you needed his presence like you needed air. “Nobody can kill me that easy, not even Shepard.”

He looked at you, unimpressed by your attitude, “I wouldn't boast your level of confidence for someone in a hospital bed.” He deadpanned. You simply waved him off, but a question popped into your mind before you could say anything.

“Hey, what was Shepherd doing there anyway? I know you mentioned him earlier but I still don't understand why he was involved.” You asked, making him sigh.

John rubbed his neck, leaning back a little from his position. “If I'm being honest? I don't know either, I had a feeling he would be there but I wasn't positive. My best guess would be that he probably got involved with Markov's goons after he went rogue. After they must've teamed with underground gangs to keep tabs on what the CIA was up to.” He looked back at you, “A few people from the inside still had communication with him, that was most likely how we got the tip-off that he was in Urzik.”

You hummed, mostly glad you could put Urzik behind you. It was over and that was all that mattered, “So what happens now?” You asked.

Price raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“What happens now that you caught him?” You clarified. Staring at him curious.

John shrugged, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Well Shepherd is dead, he died during the altercation back in Riyzabbi. As for the team, we go back to normal. A few people who had relations with Shepherd are being tried in international court for unauthorized communication with enemies. But that's it, as far as I know.”

You hummed, letting your eyes flutter shut. Basking in the feel of his thumb against your skin, “Mm, and us…?” You asked, feeling a bit brave.

You felt him halt, “Well, you obviously know we can't exactly be public about this.” You opened your eyes back up to him, “-But, I don't think I can really deny what I feel for you.”

Your lips curled into a warm smile, one that seemed to say ‘I love you.’ John traced the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, ‘I love you’ the gesture said.

“I love you.” You said, unable to hold yourself back from uttering the words any longer.

John smiled, “I love you too.”

Pulling you in for a chaste kiss, you smiled against his lips. Your nose brushed his, his eyelashes tickling your skin.

You were going to be just fine.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Hey, don't go!

Okay first things first, I want to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who liked, commented, reposted, or send me kind messages on my last post. I never thought I would reach 1,000 likes but you guys work miracles! It literally means the world to me.

Second, so sorry for the long wait. I know it was awhile but I’m balancing my classes, social life, and my writing so it gets hectic sometimes. But I appreciate you for having patience in me, I want to ask if you would be so kind as to like, repost, or leave a comment! It really helps, more than you know.

Lastly, you definitely haven’t seen the last of me yet. There is more content coming! It might take a bit but I am working hard to please you ;) and with that I hope you enjoyed Captains Girl Part II, I love you all! Toodles ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀ˋ 💕

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

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.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Part I of… Captains Girl: ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Thank you

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

[carry-the-sky]

go spin the wheel, see where it lands—

Here's the thing about time: it's always running out. He felt it even as a kid, this urgency moving through him, around him. Always just ahead. He'd catch up, if everything else would just slow the hell down. But there are rules, and rule number one is that time tends to be, well, linear. Directional. Things get a bit messy when it's not.

Four seconds. That was rule number two, and the consequences for breaking it are— bad. To put it lightly.

He doesn't exactly have a choice. Or, he does, but if it's between breaking the rules or not, watching everything he loves get ripped away or digging in, claws first— well. He knows a thing or two about fighting dirty.

So, no, it's not a choice. It's immutable, like gravity. Time. A strict progression from cause to effect.

Ekko breaks rule number two.

And the line becomes a circle.

.

He thinks it's a dream, the first time. What else would it be? She fell. She's gone.

She's here now, though. Whole and happy and here, running a hand through her chopped-short hair. That single streak of magenta hits him where it hurts, square in his chest. You can't feel pain in a dream, can you?

"You're back," she says, without looking up. She's lying on her stomach, sketchbook open, a whirling kaleidoscope of color on the page in front of her. "Took you long enough."

"Was I gone?" Ekko says.

She actually laughs at that, the sound filling up his ears, warm and bright. "Benzo was starting to worry, not that he'd ever admit it. Big ol' softie." Her hand flashes, chalk sticks arcing across the page. "You seem to have that effect on people."

He shakes his head. "I don't. I'm not—"

She scribbles faster, fingers stained pink and blue and every shade in between. "You know, for a smart guy, you're kinda dumb."

"Ouch."

"I still like you, though."

This is a nice dream. Maybe the only nice dream he'll have again.

"I miss you," he says, dredging the words up from some sunless space inside him. "I didn't tell you before."

Her hand slows to a stop. From where he's standing, Ekko can only see a few snatches of detail on the page; a fuchsia smile, twin blue braids.

"I'm right here, buster," she says, not looking up. Grinning softly at her hands. "Never left, actually."

The circle wobbles, shifts out of focus. Time and space folding in on each other like paper cranes.

When he blinks, Powder is gone.

.

Too late. It's always, always too late.

.

"It's you," she says, the next time.

They're somewhere green, somewhere he's never been. A part of the Undercity that doesn't exist where he's from, that never existed.

"Uh." He blinks against the sun. "It's me, yeah."

"Seriously?" Beside him on the lawn, she pops up on an elbow, scrutinizing him. "You still don't get what's happening? Sheesh, hopping dimensions really does do a number on the noggin."

Okay, this is a weird dream. Still, as long as he keeps her talking, as long as he has sun on his skin and grass beneath him, he doesn't really care. He'll take weird. He'll take whatever he can get.

"Noggin, right," he laughs. "Synapses. Drunk slugs."

Powder scrunches up her nose like she's trying not to laugh. "Alright, I give. If you wanna dance around the giant elephant in the room, be my guest." She turns her head into her arm, a shield from the sun. Between them, their hands brush in the grass, pinky fingers tangling together. "Next time, though."

Ekko hums, content. More than that— happy. Overflowing with it. Then he frowns. "Wait. Next time?"

Paper cranes, folding in and in and in.

"Dummy," he thinks he hears her say before she disappears.

.

"So when you said 'hopping dimensions', you meant—"

"Yeah."

"And that means—"

"Yeah."

Ekko spins in a circle, arms thrown out wide. "But— how? All of this, the lab, the tech— it shouldn't exist here. Heimerdinger made sure—"

"Hey, you're the genius," Powder says. "I just live here."

Four seconds. He lets it sink in for four seconds—she's whole, she's happy, she's here, at least in this tiny pocket of space and time—before he's crossing the space between them and pulling her into a bruising hug. Her breath puffs out in mild surprise, and then she's hugging him back, arms cinching tight around him. I won't forget this. But he's already started to. He drops his head to her shoulder, breathing her in, every tiny detail. He won't make the same mistake twice.

Her eyes are wet when they untangle. Ekko swipes at his cheek to find that his are, too.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry. I thought I saved you, but it wasn't— I wasn't—"

"Don't," she says fiercely. "Don't do that. Not with me, not here. I meant what I said, okay? You're a good one, Ekko. You don't give up on people. If I'm— if the other me is— then there was nothing you could've done to change it. That was always gonna be how the story ended."

The tears are a river, streaming salt down the slope of his nose and into his mouth. "I was too slow. I'm always too damn slow."

Powder's hands are on his face, her lips kissing the salt from his cheeks, his eyelids. "The boy savior," she murmurs. "It's not your job to save everyone, you know. But I love you for trying."

She's fading, or maybe he is. Time and space, a never-ending anomaly. But there are constants, too, things that keep the universe spinning. Rules worth breaking.

He feels it, this time. It's like someone's scooping out his insides, rearranging his atoms. Like he's being wiped clean, unmade. Hollowed out so that some other him can be stuffed into his skin. Four seconds is all it takes, or maybe four million.

I love you. I love you, too.

.

He tells her for real, when he sees her again.

"I know," she says, elbowing him in the ribs. Her cheeks are dusky-pink. "Following my lead, huh?"

He looks at her, really looks. Every detail; the dainty point of her chin and the dusting of freckles across her nose and her eyes, big and bright and blue.

"Always," he says.

.

Time and space. Paper cranes, folding and unfolding, creasing the lines of reality. Some rules can't be broken, but they can bend a little.

Here's one: when you die, you stay dead.

.

He must be dreaming. She's standing right in front of him, in this dimension, on this plane of existence, real and whole and here. Her hair is still short, all of it blue.

Four seconds. He holds his breath for four seconds, and then: "Jinx."

"Hey, buster," she says.

[wreckedandpolemic]

she's got a boyfriend anyway - matty healy

part iii - if we're gonna do anything...

(mdni) hahahahaha... heyyy... been a while huh?

warnings: 18+, drug use, unprotected sex, cheating

Being home is suffocating you. You love your hometown, really, you do, but you’ve gotten so used to reaching out and grasping a starless London night that the stickers on your ceiling feel mocking. Like you’ve stepped back into the body of the girl whose room this used to be, and her skin is two sizes too small. Every time your mother reprimands you for being out late, or swearing, or smoking, you remind yourself that you’re five minutes closer to being back in London, hundreds of miles away and outside your family’s sphere of control. 

Being with Matty is different, though. He tugs you out of that too-tight skin, leaves you loose-limbed and free. You tell him as much, laying back against his wrinkled, black sheets, a joint burning down between his fingers and smoke hanging in the air. His answering smile is gorgeous, big and bright and a little dopey from the weed. A slow song you can’t pin down crackles from his vintage record player. “Shotgun?” he offers, and you grin, straddling him as he fills his lungs with smoke. Your lips hover over his, your hair falling in a curtain around your faces, shrouding you in fitting secret. He blows the smoke into your waiting mouth and you inhale greedily, certain a faint taste of him lingers in your lungs. You lift your head to exhale, blowing rings just to show off.

He stubs the joint out on his bedframe and flings the roach into the corner of his room, planting both his hands firmly on your hips. You’re crossing that line again; your feet have swept across it so many times since you came home that it’s faded from an all-encompassing warning bell to a faint, familiar tick. You press a kiss to his lips, savouring his responding giggle, your high wrapping the pair of you in a blanket that muffles the outside world. His arms snake around your back, tracing soothing circles over your skin. You relax into his chest, the warmth of his skin soaking into yours. Time drips over you like honey and you don’t know how long you lay like that, relaxed in his embrace.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs absently, petting your hair.

You kiss his chest softly, praise spinning in your slow-moving mind like a coin set on its edge. “Flatterer,” you reply, his gaze kindling a spark in your chest. The album ends, the last notes hanging in the air for a moment before fading away. The silence is tender, pleasant. Matty shifts, freeing his arm from under you and you whine, clinging feebly onto him as he rolls off the bed.

You watch him pick his way across his messy room to where his guitar leans against his bookshelf, smiling softly when he picks it up. He sits cross-legged, back against the wall, cradling the guitar lovingly in his lap. He strums idly, chords humming sweetly in the warm air and washing comfortably over you. “Mind if I play you something, love?”

“Please,” you reply, sitting up so you can see him properly. He teases a few more notes from the strings, then sings along in a low, quiet voice. You’re a little too stoned to process the individual words, but you know intrinsically that he’s singing to you, for you, about you. A solid lump of emotion rises in your throat, your cotton-mouth too dry to swallow it back down.

The song ends after some indeterminate amount of time, its linear passage having escaped you long ago. “D’you like it?” he asks, and you nod. It’s just about the loveliest thing you’ve ever heard; the romance of this tortured artist so dichotomous from what you’re used to. “Good,” he says shortly. “‘Cause otherwise that would’ve been well embarrassing.” Turning to start another record, he takes a deep breath and exhales shakily, unfamiliarly and uncharacteristically nervous. “This isn’t, um… We’re having fun, right?”

You tilt your head at him, hazy brain preventing you from reading his tone. “Yeah. ‘Course we are.” You turn a sleazy, charming grin on him, one you realise you learned from him. “Why?”

He smiles at you, a sweet, lovely thing, a far cry from the filthy, teasing smirks you’re used to. “I just…” He shakes his head as you fascinate yourself twirling a strand of hair around your finger. “Never mind. You’re so stoned.” He huffs a fond laugh and props the guitar back up against the bookshelf.

A dazed laugh bubbles up out of your throat. “Yep,” You pop the ‘p’ loudly, smacking your lips so the noise repeats over and over. “Fuck, your shit is so strong. I feel like my bones are glue. Does that make sense?”

He crawls back up the bed next to you, slipping a hand under your shirt to stroke fond circles into your skin. “No,” he laughs. “But you’re cute,” he adds.

“So are you,” you say, poking the tip of his nose and dissolving into a fit of giggles at the way his face scrunches in response. He kisses you lazily, tongue sweeping your mouth in slow, languid strokes; he kisses you just to kiss you, running his fingers through your hair and smiling against your mouth.

Time passes, your head clears, the platter spins and the sun sinks lower in the sky. It’s dusk by the time you peel yourself out of Matty’s bed and shrug your jacket back on. You’re regretful, gathering your things slowly, casting doleful looks at the warmth of his bed as you inch toward the door. “Just stay, love,” Matty tells you, grinning at the relief on your face.

You don’t bother double-checking, just dropping your bag and jacket and falling back into bed with him. “Thank you, darling,” you grin, pressing your lips against his just to feel them warm on your skin. “You and me, alone together in bed all night… whatever will we get up to?” you tease, hands wandering over his chest playfully.

“I have a few ideas,” he smirks, hand roaming down to your ass and squeezing. You tug his shirt off his body, kissing your way down his bare chest. His hand catches yours as you go to unbutton his jeans and you look up at him curiously before pressing a palm against his clothed dick. “C’mon, love. We’ve got all night. Right now, I wanna make you feel so good you forget his fucking name.”

Your thighs clench at his words; the possessiveness in his tone grips you. “Fuck, Matty,” you whine, sudden heat flooding your body and pooling at your core. “Off, off, now,” you whine, yanking off his jeans and boxers in one motion and wrapping your hand around his hardening cock. It’s almost a reversal of last time; in Matty’s room, now, his skin bare while you’re clothed. Slowly, you pump his cock again, relishing the way his hips twitch under your touch.

You kick off your own jeans and crawl back up the bed, leaning towards Matty as he roams his hands down to the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head. Deft fingers work at the clasp of your bra and pinch your nipple as you slip the fabric off your body. “So fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, gazing intently at your bare tits.

Sitting up, Matty climbs on top of you, kissing you hard and tracing a finger over the outside of your panties. A shiver runs through you and you grind against his hand, the fabric of your underwear scraping deliciously over your clit. You slide down the pillows so the pair of you are horizontal, looking up and losing yourself for a second in Matty’s big, brown eyes, liquid pools of fathomless desire. He tugs your panties down your legs, rubbing slow circles into your clit and swallowing your responding moan with a kiss. “Shit, Matty, come on,” you whine, rolling your hips against him.

“We have all night, love. Don't you wanna take it slow?” he murmurs, speeding up his motions at your clit. Liquid pleasure drips down your spine, blooming hot in your veins. A whine falls from your lips as he slips a finger into you, your cunt clenching desperately around him as he sets a torturously slow rhythm.

You groan. He’s so devoted to dragging everything out, insisting on toying with every encounter; you’re aching for it already. “No,” you retort. “Shut up and fuck me.” Weak bursts of heat rattle through you, insufficient, ramping up your desire as you kiss Matty desperately.

“So impatient,” he tuts, brushing a strand of hair away from your face and dropping his head to kiss your neck. “How do you want it?” he murmurs against your skin. Your stomach clenches at his words, unused to the care he takes with you, his lips reverent on your skin, awaiting your cue.

“Fast,” you gasp, a breathy moan falling from your lips as he slides another finger into you, the stretch between your thighs burning deliciously. “Hard,” you add, reaching down and wrapping a hand around his cock. “Come on, Matty, wanna come on your cock so bad,” His dick twitches in your palm and his jaw goes slack, desire burning in his gaze.

Matty pulls his fingers out of you, drawing them into his mouth and sucking your arousal off his skin. “Open up, love,” he instructs, spitting in your mouth when you drop your jaw for him. You swallow obediently, the taste of you sliding down your throat deliciously. Climbing off you, he lines his cock up with your entrance, teasing. “You ready?”

Nodding wildly, you clench your cunt and roll your hips, chasing the pleasure he holds just out of your reach. “Fuck me, please,” you whine, tangling a hand in his hair and tugging harshly, relishing the soft whimper he lets out. Finally, Matty enters you, the stretch divine in your cunt. He gasps as you clench around him, coaxing him deeper. “Harder,” you beg, digging your nails into his back and matching his thrusts with your hips to force him deeper into you.

“Whatever you want, love,” he grins. “Gotta give it to you just the way you want it before your little boyfriend gets his pathetic hands on you again,” he promises, the flash of guilt at the reminder of your sin indetectable against the waves of sweet bliss rolling over you. He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you wildly. Your pulse thrums in your cunt, cries falling from your lips as he thrusts impossibly deep into you.

“Shh, not so loud, sweetheart,” Matty murmurs against your lips, sliding two fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans. Your head spins, drunk on him, liquid heat coiling in your veins and melting you in his hands. Euphoria pools in your belly, blood pumping faster and faster, your hips meeting slick and sweet. “That feel good?” You nod fervently, incoherent whines falling from your lips.

You writhe under him. “Matty,” you whine. “Matty, please, fuck–” you gasp, voice breaking on the last syllable as he strikes oh-so-perfectly inside you. “Oh, God,” you cry, digging your nails into his shoulders hard enough to puncture skin. His hand comes down to tease at your clit, callused fingers deliciously rough against your swollen nerves. “Matty, please, please, please,” you whine, hips jolting involuntarily to chase the sweet, sharp bursts of pleasure that ricochet through you.

“Are you close, love?” he asks, his pace stuttering as his control slips.

“Yeah, fuck,” you murmur between soft moans. Matty redoubles his efforts, pressure mounting between your legs, coiling tighter and tighter as you cling to him, lips meeting in a messy imitation of a kiss. He strikes your clit just right, and you scream, heat racing through your blood and sparks exploding behind your eyelids. Euphoria burns you from the inside out, your cunt clenching around him desperately. A pained whine escapes you as he pulls out of you, spilling across your stomach with a groan. Your chest heaves as you gasp for breath, coasting on your high. Matty collapses next to you, breathing hard, and grins over at you wickedly.

Matching his grin, you drag a finger through the mess on your belly and suck it off, swirling your tongue around your finger exaggeratedly. Matty snatches your hand away and kisses you deeply. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“Yes,” you giggle against his mouth. “Is it working?” He nods almost imperceptibly, something intense shining in his eyes that you don’t quite want to understand. You cast your gaze anywhere else, and he clears his throat sheepishly. “I’m, uh, gonna go get cleaned up,” you say, wincing at the cliche as you pad into his bathroom.

Whatever lingering awkwardness you might’ve feared has dissipated by the time you return, cocking your head quizzically at his pose; propped up against the headboard, arms behind his head. “About that blowjob… What?” he complains as you burst into laughter. “No, I’m sorry,” he says, laughing. “I heard it as soon as I said it.” You climb back into bed next to him, resting your head on his bare shoulder.

Kissing at his neck, you taste the light sheen of sweat on his skin. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you tease, climbing over him and settling between his legs. “And that I’m generous.”

The sound of your phone clattering to the floor startles you awake. Blinking blearily, you comb a hand through your sleep-tangled hair. Twelve missed calls from your mum, three from your dad and… oh shit, seventeen from your boyfriend. “Matty,” you hiss, slapping his leg frantically from your position on the floor. “Matty!”

“Huh, what?” he murmurs groggily, stirring to peer down at you from the bed.

“I forgot Michael was coming up from London this morning!” you gasp, frantically hunting for your clothes, the enormity of the last few days suddenly in shocking clarity. Your phone buzzes at your feet as you wrestle with your bra, fingers shaking too much to close the clasps. The caller ID flashes his name, and you draw a trembling breath.

“Want some help?” Matty teases, and despite yourself, you do. You nod despairingly, his warm hands at your back a comfort even now. “It’ll be okay, love,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. His touch warms you through, your body melting instinctively against his. God. You are well and truly fucked.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Western Nights.

You don't expect to bump into your dad's best friend Javier in a church basement on the outskirts of town. You also didn't expect to fall in love with him. Life seems to be full of surprises - and Javier was the biggest surprise of all.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Javier Peña x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 3.6k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content at the end. talk and themes of PTSD. brief mention of domestic abuse. several mentions of panic attacks. age gap (but all very legal and consensual). smut in future chapters.

Author's Note - it's finally here!! i've had this idea for so long and i'm so glad to finally put pen to paper. the dads best friend trope is one of my biggest weaknesses and javier peña is my favourite character ever, so naturally this was born. this fic will tackle some topics that may be a little tough for some people, so make sure to read the warnings!! can't wait to get this up on its feet and running, and for javi and peaches story to develop <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! <3

Masterlist. Requests.

Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Healing isn't linear. Recovery is a journey. This is a choice I have to make. No one else can make it for me.

You're repeating reassurances to yourself in your mind as you descend the stairs to the basement.

It's dimly lit, and it takes your eyes a minute to adjust. When they do, you're able to make out an old, heavy, oak wood lectern at the front of the room. Rows of flimsy plastic chairs are set almost as an audience, and tables line the edges. The carpet is worn, beige, and stained, the entire space smelling like must and bad coffee. You wonder how many girls like you have stepped foot in here in the past.

You pull the sleeves of your sweater down over your wrists and stick to the back wall, willing yourself to become invisible. Watching as people mill in slowly, you take a deep, steadying breath. In for 4. Hold for 4. Out for 6.

"Hi!" a middle aged, dyed blonde, motherly woman screeches at you. The cadence of her voice makes you jump.

"Sorry, sweetpea! Didn't mean to scare you," she looks you up and down before continuing. "You're new here, ain't ya?"

Her southern accent, albeit very high pitched, is somewhat comforting. It's something familiar in this room full of the unknown.

"Yeah," you just about manage to choke out.

She surveys you again, this time with no judgment. You realise she's just trying to figure you out, as you are her.

"If you need anything, just come find me. I'm Primrose."

You smile gently at the floral moniker, and decide that Primrose might be some much needed support. Her motherly aura was calming you ever so slightly.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, if we could all talk a seat, that'd be fantastic."

A tall, curly haired man - who can't be more than 30 - wearing a name tag sticker that reads 'Tobias' has taken his place behind the lectern, gesturing at everyone to sit down. You pick a chair near the back, slouching down and ducking your head.

"Wonderful. Hi, everyone."

A chorus of hellos echoes around the room, everyone clearly used to this routine.

"For anyone who's new here, I'm Tobias, but everyone calls me Tobi. I've been a Priest for the last five years, and I've been running this group for the last two. Usually, how it works is that we get a few people to come up and speak through their experiences."

Your chest tightens, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. As if he sees your panic, Tobi continues.

"Most people find that being able to talk freely and without judgment is a useful coping mechanism. PTSD is complex, and it isn't something that can ever be fully 'cured' - but we can find ways to make things easier. You're in a room full of ladies and gentlemen that might not understand your experience, but definitely understand your feelings."

He catches your eyes across the depth of the room and smiles gently. You muster up the strength to smile back cautiously, and he nods before speaking again.

"Some just come here to listen. Others find it beneficial to talk. No one is going to pressure you, judge you, or scald you. This is a safe space. Share as much or as little as you'd like. Okay?"

Everyone nods and murmurs in agreement. Tobi seems to have a way of reassuring the entire room without really trying. He's calming, tender hearted, genuine. You like him already.

"Who wants to start?"

Primrose shoots up out of her chair on the front row and makes her way to the front. Tobi squeezes her shoulder as she passes, and she beams at him.

"Hi, y'all! I'm Primrose."

The room is clearly familiar with the blonde ball of excitement. Everyone yells greetings at her, her energy almost infectious.

"Most of you know my story, but just in case you don't -"

Her eyes flit to you briefly, and she smiles. You half smile back, relaxing slightly.

"I was in a marriage where I suffered domestic abuse. He used to hit me, manipulate me, call me names. You think it, he did it."

She takes a breath, putting the smile back on her face where it's faltered.

"I have some news to share. I'm engaged!"

A few people jump out of their seats to hug her, congratulating her with pats on the back and yelled excitement.

"Thank y'all, thank y'all! I couldn't wait to tell you guys. I just... I never thought that I could ever be happy again. I certainly never thought that I'd ever find the courage to be with another man, after everything. But I've found someone amazing. And he treats me like a queen. So, to anyone who's new here - it is possible. I promise you. Y'all better help me pick out a dress!"

The room erupts into applause, and Primrose smiles so bright you're surprised the lights don't shatter.

After Primrose, an elderly man named Walter takes the stage. He explains his experience in the military, and the trauma and violence he witnessed for years. You learn that he's a recovering alcoholic, who wasn't had a drink for 9 years. He shakes slightly where he stands, leaning against the cane in his hand. You can tell he's lived through hell.

Finally, after Walter, Tobi stands at the lectern. He's the sole survivor of a car accident that killed his two best friends. After struggling to cope, he turned to God, and became a Priest to better help people just like him in his community. He speaks with such ease, such grace. A wave of calm sweeps over the room as everyone listens intently.

He checks the brown leather strapped watch on his right wrist before clicking his tongue.

"Well, folks, that's all the time we have for today! Feel free to stick around and chat to each other, as always. There's coffee and cookies on the table, and Janet made some of her famous honey loaf too. Thanks for coming. Same time next week?"

Everyone agrees in shouts and thumbs up directed towards the front. Slowly, people rise, stacking their chairs away before making their way over to the table where the coffee sits next to the styrofoam cups.

You remain seated for a little longer, catching your breath. Your teeth are digging into your bottom lip, knawing at it anxiously. You suddenly taste pennies, and lick up the blood quickly with your tongue.

Standing up shakily, you fold your chair at its hinges and add it to the stack at the front of the room. A yawn overtakes you, tiredness suddenly settling into your bones.

Coffee. You need coffee.

You make your way over to the tables, timidly smiling at Primrose as she shows off her ring to a small group of people. Just as you reach over and grab an empty cup, you become suddenly aware of a presence behind you.

"Don't drink that."

A warm, rich, booming voice hits your ears. The large, looming presence comes a little closer, towering over you.

"Trust me, honey. It's the worst coffee you'll ever taste in your life."

You know that voice, it's familiar timbre.

Javier Peña.

You turn around to be met with the sight of him peering down at you intently. He's wearing a flannel and blue jeans, heavy boots on his feet. He smells like musk, sandalwood, and the Texan heat.

God, he looks good. He's strikingly handsome. Objectively attractive. Everyone in your town agrees that Javier Peña is one beautiful man.

And seemingly unattainable. Since leaving Lorraine at the altar years ago, no one has heard any word of Javier so much as dating.

"Such a waste," your mom always says. "Gorgeous man like that. He could have anyone he wants!"

And it's true. Chocolate hair, broad shoulders, strong thighs. The man is a heartthrob.

A heartthrob with a secret, apparently.

"Javier?" you question. "What are you doing here?"

It's now you realise that he's here. At the meeting. You've done such a good job of keeping your head down, going relatively unnoticed. And now, staring down at you, is your dad's best friend. So much for covert.

He must see the realisation on your face. Or maybe he notices the way your breathing quickens. Either way, he places a warm palm on your shoulder, looking at you carefully.

"Hey. It's okay," he reassures. "I won't tell if you won't."

You nod meekly, trying to stay calm. In for 4, hold for 4, out for 6.

The basement suddenly feels too small, too dark, too stuffy. The carpet is too scratchy, the chairs too hard, the table too white. You need to get out before your chest caves in.

"You know, if you still want coffee, there's a diner like ten minutes from here. They do really good pie," Javier tells you, distracting you from your impending panic attack.

You take a breath and nod.

"Yeah. Okay. I like pie."

"Come on," he encourages, gesturing at you to lead the way. "Walk with me."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You and Javier walk steadily side by side in silence, fingers occasionally accidentally brushing each other. After it happens twice, you decide to put your hands in your pockets the rest of the way, ignoring the warmth that radiates off him.

You eventually arrive at Cherry Pie Diner. The neon sign is blinding, shades of bright pink, yellow and blue flashing and flickering. Inside, the white overhead lights illuminate classic red leather booth seats and waitresses in pinafore aprons.

"Here we are. When you go in, ask for JoJo. She'll take care of you," he winks.

You stand stuck in your place on the sidewalk for a minute, processing his words.

"You're not coming in?"

He seems taken aback by your question. Now he's the one processing.

"You... uh - you want me to?"

"I, uh, yeah. I mean... if you're not busy... I just, uh - nevermind. Sorry. Forget I said anything."

"I didn't want to overstep, you know, it, uh- But if it's okay with you... I could do with some coffee."

Javier smiles at you gently, gauging your reaction. When you smile back hesitantly, he pushes open the door to the diner, gesturing at you to head inside.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"What looks good, honey?"

You raise your eyes from the menu you were staring at intently to quirk your brow at Javier.

"Hmm?"

"I asked if anything looked good," he repeats kindly.

"I, um, I'm not sure. What do you recommend?"

"The peach pie," he says without hesitation.

The quick response makes you laugh, the melody of it tugging at Javier's heart strings. He realises, sadly, that he hasn't heard that sound in a hell of a long time.

"Listen, I know it's not anyone's go to," he justifies, "but it's honestly the best thing on the menu. There's nothin' like it."

"Okay," you say with complete certainty. "Peach pie it is."

JoJo is a bubbly, Southern woman with rosy cheeks and a smile that never seems to falter. She takes your orders happily, flirting with Javier like you weren't sat watching, confusion and awkwardness plastered across your face.

"You two seem close," you approach gently, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah, I know her husband. JoJo's been serving me here for at least 10 years. Peach pie, every time," he laughs.

"I'm usually a cherry pie girl. Maybe you'll convert me."

You both sip steadily at your coffees, humming in contentment at your first bites of pie. Halfway through your slice, you break the silence.

"Okay, fine. This might be the best pie I've ever had."

"I told you," he smirks. "I'll never lead you wrong, honey. Promise. Not where pie is concerned, anyway."

You finish off your slices in comfortable quiet, neither of you quite sure what to say next.

"So, uh... about tonight..." you begin nervously.

"I won't tell anyone I saw you, cariño. I swear."

You breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Javi. Really."

Javi. The nickname so rarely used, it makes his heart stutter for a second.

"You're... you're not gonna ask what I was doing at that meeting?"

He tilts his head slightly, gazing at you carefully before replying.

"If you wanted to tell me, you would. I'm not gonna push you. These things take time."

He smiles like he knows. You think, maybe, he does.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, sweetheart."

A breath. In for 4, hold for 4, out for 6.

"Was that your first meeting too?"

He shakes his head, soft curls rippling.

"I've been going for a few months. I sneak out of town every week, so I'm pretty sure Chucho thinks I'm having a secret love affair. He doesn't ask questions."

You both laugh, and JoJo's head whips up, her curiosity peaked. She's never heard Javier laugh like this. Sure, he chuckles at her jokes, but the sound doesn't usually reach the corners of the room like that.

"He'd probably love it if you were, you know. Your love life is often a topic of conversation in my house, among many others in our neighbourhood."

He scoffs, and kicks your foot under the table teasingly.

"Man, nothing happens in that damn town, does it?"

"Nothing at all. Think we're overdue a secret love affair from you, Mr Peña. It might liven things up a little."

"Shut it, you," he chuckles, rolling his eyes.

You pull the sleeves of your sweater back down over your wrists again.

"I haven't seen you in a while. Think my dad is starting to get worried, you know."

A deep crease appears between his brows abruptly, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah. I've just been busy, I guess. Tryna sort my shit out," he snickers dryly, no real humour in it.

"So did you do it?"

"Hmm?"

"Sort your shit out?"

Now he laughs genuinely, bright smile gracing his cheeks.

"Absolutely fucking not."

"Man, I know the feeling," you reassure.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Your breathing speeds up slightly, eyes darting around the room. Javier notices, reaching across the booth to grab your hand. He intertwines his fingers with yours, thumb rubbing comforting patterns on your skin. You take a deep breath. In for 4, hold for 4, out for 6.

"I feel like... like I'm... uh...," he nods at you reassuringly, squeezing your hand a little tighter. "I feel like I'm drowning. I'm barely keeping my head above water at any given moment. And I'm tired, Javi. Fuck, I'm tired."

A warm, salty tear escapes you, running down your cheek. Javi leans forward and brushes it away with his thumb, big brown eyes never leaving yours.

"It's okay, cariño. You're okay," he murmurs. "I get it. God, I get it."

"You do?" you sniffle.

"I do," he confirms. "More than you could ever know. And I know how lonely it feels. But I promise you, sweetheart. You're not alone. Not anymore."

His voice is like warm honey, soothing and golden. It melts into you, releases some of the tension from your shoulders. The tightness in your chest loosens slightly, and you take a deep breath. You find the courage to look at him again, and find that he hasn't taken his eyes off you once. His gaze is like an anchor, tethering you to reality. You surprise yourself by not wanting to shy away from the intensity of it. No, you want more.

Javier lets go of your hand to trace his fingertips up your forearm. He draws patterns carefully, as if he's learning every inch of you, committing you to memory. Like he isn't sure when he'll get to touch you like this again. If he'll get to touch you like this again.

You're still looking at each other, neither of you gathering the courage to look away. It's as if Javi is reading the words off the very surface of your soul. You're not sure you've ever felt so understood in your life. It terrifies you.

Without thinking, you grab a hold of Javier's hand and raise it to your lips, kissing each of his knuckles gently. The tenderness makes his heart ache.

"Hermosa," he sighs almost wistfully.

The sound of his voice snaps you back to the present moment.

"I'm sorry," you stutter, letting go of him. "Fuck, Javi, sorry. I don't - oh, I... fuck."

"Why do you do it?" he asks.

"Do... do what?"

"Apologise for everything. Every other word out of your mouth is 'sorry'," he chuckles affectionately.

"Sorry," you mumble without thinking. You pause, registering your words. The two of you break out into laughter, clutching at your stomachs.

"Are you?"

"Am I...?"

"Are you sorry? Or do you just say it because you think people want to hear it? You can't apologise for your entire existence, cariño."

You look into those warm, chocolate eyes, and realise he's read you for filth. He's right.

"I'm not sorry," you whisper.

He quirks a brow and nods attentively, urging you to continue.

"For... for what I just did. I'm not sorry."

You're praying that he understands what you're trying to say. I'm not sorry for my tender gesture. I'm not sorry for this connection we've made. I'm not sorry for my soft heart.

"I'm not either," he replies, barely above a murmur. You hear him, clear as day.

You reach out, this time, and interlock your fingers with his across the table. His large hand envelopes yours, and he squeezes. It effects you more than it probably should.

JoJo drops a plate behind the counter, the red and white china shattering across the checkerboard floor. The smash snaps you both out of the moment, making you jump. Your heart kicks into overdrive, battering against your ribcage.

"Hermosa, it's alright. Just a plate."

You hear him, but your nervous system doesn't seem to want to cooperate. Your breaths become laboured and frantic, and your hold on Javi's hand tightens almost painfully.

"Come on, Peaches, let's get out of here. It's getting late."

Javier stands from his bench seat and pulls you up with him, never once removing his fingers from where they're locked with yours. He shoots a smile over to JoJo, who returns it with glee. The two of you walk across the parking lot, hand in hand, illuminated by the neon light of the diner's sign. The colours dance across Javier's cheekbones, reflecting off the brush of his mustache, painting the rich brown warmth of his hair. He's never looked more handsome.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Peaches."

"Hmm?" Javier asks from where he's leaning against the side of your car, back in the church parking lot.

"You called me Peaches. In the diner."

He nods, smirk etched on his streetlit face.

"Because of the pie."

"Because of the pie," he echoes.

"I like it," you confess quietly. "Peaches."

Javier pushes off the vehicle and stands, towering over you. Without a second thought, he brushes a thumb over your cheekbone in a featherlight touch.

"Sweet like peaches," he murmurs. "Too fuckin' sweet for a world like this one."

You look up at him, breath catching in your throat when you meet his eyes. He's gazing at you with adoration. With tenderness. With so much softness. Your knees go weak with the weight of it all.

It hits you, suddenly. The realisation.

You want to kiss him.

You want to kiss Javier Peña.

You want to kiss him more than you've ever wanted to kiss anyone in your entire life.

You're stood in the parking lot of a church on the outskirts of town with your dad's best friend and you're feeling the closest thing to happy you've felt in months.

You take a step forward, closing the gap between you. The warmth radiating from the older man settles itself in your bones, shielding you from the chill of the night. Just as you tilt your face up towards his, your phone buzzes.

Jumping apart as if you've been caught, you check your messages with shaky hands.

"It's my mom. She thinks I'm with a friend, so she's just checking in. She doesn't like it when I drive in the dark."

The mention of your mother snaps Javier out of his peachy haze.

"You should get back, cariño. It's late. Sorry for keeping you."

"Now who's apologising for no reason?"

He laughs, and you feel like you've won a gold medal. An achievement in its own right.

You climb into the drivers seat of your car, starting up the engine. Just as you're about to leave, Javi taps on the window. You roll it down.

"Same time next week, Peaches?"

"Same time next week, Javi."

You drive away with a smile on your face and a warmth in your stomach, the taste of peach still lingering on your lips. You notice that Javier drives behind you steadily, following you carefully to make sure you get home safe.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're staring at the ceiling.

You're plagued by insomnia.

According to the Internet, it goes hand in hand with your PTSD. You make a mental note to work up the courage to ask Tobi about it in the next meeting.

You lie in bed, watching as the sunlight slowly illuminates the room. Usually, you'll make a cup of tea, read a book, watch a TV show. Pace around the room like a caged animal. Count sheep. Do yoga. Listen to music.

Tonight, you take a different approach.

Tonight, you slip a hand under the waistband of your underwear, and replay the way Javi murmured your name in the diner on repeat.

It does the trick.

@frogers @farintonorth @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pedrobaby @grace46 @harriedandharassed

[soaps-mohawk]

Hii! I love your COD fic so much. I’m just beginning my own writing journey, and was wondering if you wouldn’t mind sharing what your outlining/writing process is like? ^^

Hi!! Hello!! Thank you!!! 💚 Aww, best of luck on your journey!! Writing is so hard but it can be so fulfilling at the same time!!

Hehe yeah, so I don't usually really do outlines for fics. I just kind of get a general idea of what I want to happen, and in the case of fics that follow plotlines of shows directly how the character/reader is going to fit into those events, and then just start writing what comes to me when it comes to me 😅 that's led to some fics getting quite out of hand, though, in the past.

I think CRCB is the first fic I've actually like physically laid things out as far as chapters and what I want to happen in them (which has changed about 10 times since I started around chapter 3). So yeah, I just kind of lay out how many chapters and what I want to happen in each chapter. I don't come up with everything that happens in the chapter right away. More filler type stuff I kind of just write as I go depending on what fits the vibe of the chapter. Sometimes things change a lot, and that's okay. My original outline had like 25 chapters and then the fic would be done and, well, as you can see we're nowhere near that now lol.

As far as the writing process, I just kind of take the outline and lay out what's going to happen in the chapter by section and then start writing. Sometimes I start at the beginning of the chapter and sometimes I start in the middle. Quite a few I've written the last scene first and then just kind of jumped around as inspiration came. I've found that's helped a lot with writer's block and motivation, as I can just kind of go where the words are flowing in the chapter and not have to worry about getting a certain section done before I write the next.

I also do a first draft where I can just lay out a basic description of something that happens if I get stuck and move on. If the words aren't flowing, drop a quick little summary of what happens in that scene and then move on and come back to it when you edit. Sometimes the first draft is just a super basic walk through of what happens and then I go back a second time and add in all the fluff and details. That can be really good if you're going to write smut scenes. Just get down the basics and then go through and add everything else later. Same with dialogue. Just write the lines and then go back and add in details, other things happening in the scene.

Your first draft does NOT have to be the final product. Sometimes it is. Sometimes the words are flowing and you can put out a masterpiece with just some light editing needed. Sometimes it takes two or three tries before you're happy with it. That happens to me a lot. Some chapters are basically first drafts with a little grammar/syntax editing. Others (like chapter 10) I wrote up, sat on it for two days, read it through and was unhappy with it, so I went back and added in like over 1,000 words of fluff and details.

So yeah. Take your time, sleep on things if you're not happy with them, don't be afraid to change things and jump around while you're writing. I know a lot of writers struggle with wanting to be linear in their writing and write a fic or chapter start to finish. You don't have to. Jumping around while writing has saved me so much stress.

I hope this helps, and best of luck with your writing. The best way to get good at it and figure out what works for you is just to write. Practice, practice, practice. It's taken me well over a decade to get to this point where I've figured out what works best for me and I'm still learning to this day.

[prettyflyshyguy]

If anyone needs me I'll be on the floor, in a pile of emotional goop, thinking about the VA line delivery of "But I'm not human, am I? Not anymore." and what could have been if we had a little more of the alienation, disconnection and isolation of being so completely different and being spited by that despite how hard you try to still be good and be human in the Blue Karma storyline.

Like I love and adore the Blue Karma storyline but I just really really wish we got a little more of the pain built up from all the shit Cole went through in inF1 and we got a little more nuance of that pain coming out.

I get why they went for such a stark contrast of tone between the two runs because it'd be a nightmare to try and inject more subtle variety depending on karma level at any given moment (and having worked on a videogame with a strict one-go linear story I couldn't imagine trying to effectively make two different ones) but it just leaves me feeling so hungry for a little more gradual degradation. A little more grey morality takes.

What if we had an inF1 Good run that turned into a Red run of 2 slowly. Cole goes through so much, arrives in New Marais, and something begins to snap. He hit his breaking point at the end of 1/start of 2 and the cracks have formed and it's a beautiful, tragic, downward spiral of him getting worse. It starts off subtle. "I don't have time to help any random person on the street" - gradually turns into complete spite for how he's treated, fully accepting and embracing he's the Demon of Empire City.

And to elaborate - I want to see a Blue run where he snaps a little. Not so much in actions but in emotion. People either look at him like he's a monster or he's the second coming of christ but no one see's him as a person. He's a figurehead to be crucified one way or another. He's a de-facto hero of the people whenever anything goes wrong.

He no longer has any autonomy over his life.

Bouncing between people praising him and demonising him when they literally do not know him. He can't go anywhere without being recognised. No interaction is normal anymore. People are afraid of him. People smother him. He sticks to the rooftops cause no one looks up and it's the only place to find peace. He can't wander the streets for long until a group of protesters shows up chanting for his death and spitting in his face.

He is distinctly something other, everyone views him as something other (good and bad) - he's not like everyone else so therefore, he's not truly human anymore. Conduit, not human.

And fuck, man, that's gotta get to you. Sonic the hedgehog effect - you slow down too long the horrors catch up to you and you're forced to address them. Think about them. You keep running and maybe you can escape them. And yeah, he runs a lot in 2, but I want to see him stumble a little.

[rocket-sith]

Q GOT TIRED OF MAKING ROBINHOOD LARPS SO HE DECIDED TO OPEN FOUR DIFFERENT CHRONO-TRIGGER SAVE FILES AT THE SAME TIME INSTEAD, but only one needed further progress (non-linear progress of course), two were already complete but were saved in the wrong place and missing a sidequest (lol time being non-linear what?), and the fourth was a big ol' sparkly decoy, a glitched file of nonsensical bits n bites, alluringly named Picard, that nearly crashed the game and took everything with it while you were busy looking for continuity in all the wrong places.

Behold! Season 2 of Picard, AKA Facepalm Theater Presents, AKA "Dude, where's my Tapestry?"

Love it, hate it, WTF it, or some should-be-impossible combination thereof - but somehow, you feel it. Are you in one or both of those last two camps? Yeah, me too. But I think I might have a theory. And no, it's not bunnies. (I rambled a bit about this somewhat in the A/Ns and comment thread of one of my fics a few weeks back, but the proper brain dump belongs here).

Season 2 of Picard is neither episodic, NOR is it one major overarching story with various sub-plots. It's FOUR overarching major stories, well-conceived in theory (mostly), but thrown together as gracelessly and incoherently, with the same abundance of panic and lack of transitions as the night-before-it's-due school essays we're all so painfully familiar with perpetrating. (Admittedly, a lot of us got pretty good at being zero-hour coherent by the time we got to high school, but apparently, this skill does not translate to timetravel via stellar slingshots and demigod trolls.) So that leaves us with - 

Picard Season 2: A Trek in Four Acts Loosely Disjointed and Sloppily Squished Together Parts. Feast your eyes, rub your temples, and buckle up. 

CRIS AND THERESA'S WILD RIDE: (Love story, social commentary, classic Trek shiz focused on the more touching/emotional side of temporal shenanigans.)

RENEE PICARD'S TIME HEIST AND EVEN WILDER RIDE:  (Classic Trek shiz, classic time travel fuckery, focuses on the more action-packed side of temporal shenanigans.)

THE RED HERRING, AKA THE ROCKY HORROR PICARD SHOW:

Supposedly the main plot, but really a completely ridiculous distraction that's the narrative equivalent of dumping sand in the snowglobe and violently shaking it up. Captain Picard takes a wrong turn at Albuquerque and has to go do the Timewarp (again) in some creepy old castle so he can be magically transported back home. Yeah, okay buddy, just don't forget the teddy and the TP rolls to throw around the theater.

Cut this entire arc out, and the season improves substantially in both enjoyability and coherence. (I said what I said.) If any of the four major threads don't belong, don't move the story forward, and only serve to muck things up - it's this one. It's not so much an arc as a collapsible squiggly line that looks like it might go somewhere but never does. Great if you're drunk with a shadow cast and some floorwalkers. Not so great if you're actually trying to figure out WTF is going on. 

TAPESTRY RIDES AGAIN, AKA GRAND THEFT BORG QUEEN LOS ANGELES: And now for the main event, which was literally announced as such in one of the episodes, by two people breaking the fourth wall who were probably the LAST people anyone was expecting to break the fourth wall: Seven and Raffi. So naturally, we viewers took it as a couple of throwaway comments and cute banter to lighten the dark/intense mood of all the other crap. Yeah, oops. We can't say they didn't warn us.

At one point the two of them are joking around, talking about how they're the main event, and all these other side stories are just side stories, but...yeah. Looking back after S3, that was not a joke, and it goes above and beyond the call of foreshadowing. It was a flat-out tell, and with ALL the potential fourth wallbreakers in S2 - Q, the Borg Queen, The Traveller, the Long-Lived Alien Bartender With Multiple Mysterious Powers, The Temporally Flexible Romulan Spy Of Dubious Origin - if somebody's gonna spill some futuristic tea, it's gotta be one of them, right? RIGHT? Nope. Seven and Raffi snuck in the back door.

Basically, the Grand Theft Borg Queen arc was Tapestry, but for Seven (and Raffi and Jurati to an extent). Jurati and Raffi were, IMHO, initially intended to be pieces on the gameboard, not players, but they made themselves into major players. To what extent Jurati's involvement in outsmarting the Borg Queen was meant to be a challenge for her by Q, or part of Seven's trial that Jurati unwittingly assisted in IDK, and ditto Raffi's major role in all the aforementioned drama, but either way - Seven finally accepting herself the way she is, Borg hardware and all, was a direct, not even subtle parallel to the TNG episode Tapestry. 

The most direct link is the scene in Tapestry where Picard realizes he'd rather die as his true self than live as his other-universe self who "corrected" the "mistake" that led to his artifical heart. Seven accepted that she would rather live as her Ex-B true self than die as a fully organic human, and in doing so, passed the test. 

And Jurati and Raffi played no small part in that realization, and passed their own tests in the process - with Raffi embracing Seven (literally and figuratively) while resisting the urge to manipulate Cris out of choosing his own fate, and Jurati outsmarting and merging herself with the damn Borg Queen to protect humanity and her friends. Seven passed the Q Troll test with flying colors, and Raffi and Jurati did too - giving us Elnor and a benevolent Borg Queen in the future as a result. (Q is totally one of those teachers who gives his students rewards for passing the Big Test.)

Fire up S2 of Picard, get your Fast Forward button ready, and follow the Grand Theft Borg Queen: Los Angeles arc and ONLY that arc. Skip over every single thing (other than Q monologing, as that's the one common thread) that doesn't have Seven, Raffi, and/or Jurati. You'll get an entirely different experience. It's Tapestry, but for Seven, and with different tests/opportunities for Jurati and Raffi. (And they all pass). 

Now do it again, but FF anything that ISN'T either part of the Renee Picard Time Heist plotline or part of Cris and Theresa's story. You'll get a classic Back to the Future, MCU, Reset the Timeline, Poke-An-Alternate-Reality's-Doom-Destination-With-A-Stick style story. And they all pass too. Cris and Theresa get their happily ever after and punt the primeline forward through the next generation of temporally paradoxical, adopted and found family members. 

As for the BS at Chateau Picard? It's all a decoy/charade. So come in costume, bring plenty of shit to throw, and chug the wine. You'll need it. 

[mayy-bby]

Idk if it’s just me, but I find that 911 has a hard time following through with their character arcs and this leads to redundant storytelling (in some cases). We’ve seen buck go through this journey of never feeling enough/wanted/loved time and time again and somehow we always end up right at the start of it? After buck begins is seemed like they’d keep us in the loop of buck’s therapy and do check ins to see where he’s at in terms of his belonging but they sidelined that and brought it back up now in season 6. Which some people see as them not forgetting the important details, but is that what it is? Instead showing his progress from last time, we get a whole episode on buck coming to the same realization he always comes to (that he is loved and wanted and enough/family is not always blood you you build it). And this isn’t to say I didn’t like the episode but we’ve seen this exact thing before, just with a different set up. And the thing is we always see this part but we hardly see what comes after that. The part he follows through with his realizations. The part where the progress is shown. I know some people are gonna “growth is not linear”. Well yeah, but first, it’s not completely stagnant either and two, this is a tv show and you have to move the story forward at a quicker pace and show progress for storytelling. This doesn’t mean the person can’t have the same issues arise again, but let’s not take the person right back to square one to where the lessons from last time become non existent. Now we have Eddie going on another date which most people are saying is going to be some sort of failed attempt at getting back into things and what will lead eddie to the final buddie realization. Ummmmm, what was Ana’s purpose then? That breakup was so pivotal but there was zero follow through/follow up. And I can already feel some people wanting to say, “well maybe the follow up will happen now after his date with marisol.” But no. We shouldn’t have to wait like this insane amount of time to see the the after math of something major. I can’t even recall if Eddie had a proper conversation about the breakup with anyone? Or even a decent passing mention? It’s like it never happened. Maybe if he continued to talk about it after it happened here and there, then him going on this date would make more sense. Like just knowing a little more about Eddie’s mindset when breaking up with Ana/coming to the realization (beyond the whole instant family thing which was sort of vague ngl) that she isn’t the one and why - it would be soo telling. I mean, they could have at least had Eddie mention something along the lines of “I don’t know exactly why, but I knew for sure Ana wasn’t the one for me. I think maybe because Shannon and I got together and then pregnant so young, I didn’t have that much experience with love and dating. I feel like I’m still figuring that part of myself out and dating Ana helped me find my footing even though she isn’t the one.” Blah blah, etc etc. By getting some insight into his mindset after the breakup, him going on a casual date like this one would make so much more sense. It still would be annoying but at least we’d have some insight into why he’s even trying this when things with Ana ended the way they did. But they just left us with a very ambiguous and coded breakup that said a lot but also very little. But anyway. I actually don’t know if this date will be a one time thing, but either they’re going to be redundant with his love life once again or they’re going to settle with her as the final love interest. Kinda annoying either way

[wannabeanartist]

Update about my game

So, I just wanted to make a small update about the game that I am currently making.

Important: to avoid confusion with the comic I am making, I may have to create a new blog specially dedicated to the game. I will also try to make slightly different designs for the comic and the game versions of the characters.

Game concept: So, as a reminder, I plan to make an RPG, but a story-driven one. There will be fights that will play out as classical tile fights where you move characters on a grid make them do actions etc... where it becomes interesting is that you the player will be the leader of the group fighting the anomalous, and your "agent" will all have relations to one another as well as towards you. And you will have to make sure that everyone gets along, or else your team will just fall apart. Also, this isn't a linear friendship bar that goes from 0 to 100, characters can have different types of relations. Let's take Elliot for example. Elliot views Vicent as a mentor, he is more likely to give it his all to impress him and will be terrified if he sees him go down. But, Elliot sees Sasha as more of a friend, clearly, he wants to help Sasha rather than to try and impress her and will become angry if she goes down. This is just an example, but characters will act differently depending on how they view each other, there will probably be a meter from 0 to 100 to show how close the characters are, but it isn't the only thing to look for, the type of relation (friendship, mentor, rival, etc...) is also to be taken into account. I have a few names in mind for the game, but I still need to verify the copyright. I was thinking about something along the lines of: beyond the rift (in reference to the in-game rift spewing paranormal events into the world) or The Anomaly Squade.

The progress and planned content of the game: I have started to write some of the dialogue and important game mechanics. For now, I still intend to work on my art skills since the way I envision the game, it shouldn't be too hard programming-wise. Ideally, I would like to have a first demo ready by somewhere between the start of next school year and next year's Christmas. This demo should contain at least three characters, multiple fights, a short story, and two maps (one in France and the other in Russia). For the full game, I envision at least 6 characters, but I may add more if I have the time to do so. And of course, more story as well as an end boss are the bare minimum for a game. Still, I can't guarantee that the game will be commercial-grade quality, it is supposed to be an end-of-high-school project after all, I am just documenting my progress and releasing the game for fun.

Possible features: I am not sure if I'll be able to do those things but, if the game is successful enough I might. I would like to have the game dubbed or at least the playable characters. On one side, there are only 6 to 9 characters, which isn't too bad, if I am lucky I might find enough friends and classmates to do the job. The problem is, all my classmates are French, and even if I can hide my accent relatively well whilst speaking English, they cannot so yeah, IDK if there will be an English dub. Maybe if I garner enough community, I might find some internet people willing to do that for me? But that is unlikely. I also may start a Patreon or some sort of donation once I am 18 to get some more professional equipment, mostly I'd like a graphics tablet to draw.

[blueflower-sprite]

Monster High - G1's Continuities Summary

Only for G1, even if again, this can be murky at the very best (G3 is my baby, too, and G2 may be deserving better).

There is many who thinks that Monster High is a straight line, think that the new YA content is a sequel... I want to clarify just for the continuities inside the G1. And judging by the growing of this Gen, I think we will receive other continuities to introduce all ages.

Also, I'm not a ultime fan or something - so take in consideration the date of this post - 20 / 08 / 2024.

Because Monster High can evolve, and I'm only a fan who attempt to show another part of the fandom and the brand's possible takes, basing myself on the official Wiki and my own experience.

I'm also a fanfic writer myself. So... Yeah. I'm reading fanfics and give them a chance. Even ''licensed one''... I can like it or pass, like everyone.

This post, even attempting to explain, is subjective. You can correct me.

TO START - CANON IS NOT CONTINUITY, CONTINUITY IS CANON.

Canon = What is approved by Mattel in term of products.

Continuity = The different ''universes'' of G1. Yes, that exist. And nobody should impose you his own canon, but his own is canon, because the content used is canon.

CARTOONVERSE / MOVIEVERSE

Particularities - The main G1 universe if you like visual medias, and if you base yourself on the movies and cartoons. Well... The Volume 1 is even a different continuity than the rest, but I digress. There is 6 volumes, and ''specials too'', that take place in different volumes, apparently.

The movie are also a kind of logical continuation, pairing with them. They are kinda the ''must'' of Monster High G1, but when the G1 was cancelled, the cross-over with EAH, her ''twin universe'', was cancelled too. And yes, for me, this is the main continuity too... Why ? Because you have EAH connections in the whole MH universe, even in G2 with the Legend of Shadow High Book. Gigi Grant also was helped by the Giles Grimm... A EAH's character. And Cupid is a former student of Monster High.... And the Boo York's movies cameo ?

Well, it's canon.

DIARYVERSE

Particularities - The main G1 universe, if you base yourself on the dolls, because MH being a Doll Brand and all. Diaries are a must for character lore, and are mostly considered a deep insight into each. The past of Draculaura, for example, is revealed there. But keep in mind that this is his own continuity - there is references to the movies, and as such, but it's only my opinion, I put them together naturally - but even, it's supposed to have a individual continuity by Wiki's word. G1-like lines were continued on the basis of G2, and as such, many were confused between them. So, just in case, I'm here to tell you that diaries follow until 2016, if I remember, then stop the diary G1 continuity.

BOOKVERSES (with a S, please).

Particularities - Some may be sad that books and comics impose a new thing - but hey, Monster High DON'T have a linear book / comic continuity - it's the more AU things you can't ever see in the whole canon. More a different playground. You can choose you're own elements based on you're reads, and every books series is virtually is own continuity inside Monster High. The main fun of Monster High is that everyone can say ''ho, fuck that book it's not part of MH story, but this one is the best canone ever I adopt him''. I'm like that since childhood. I adopted the two last if you want to know my take, Lisi Harrison is just a crack, but a funny one.

Lisi Harrison's Monster High Series (2010) - Yes, before Once Bitten Twice Dead screw you're G1, there was Lisi Harrison. And strangely, we were more receptive of a content that was also very different ? I don't remember being a fan of Lisi Harrison - I was just fascinated. It's actually do a more light co-habitation between monsters and human, introducing like the book AU elements like RAD. Also, it's give Gossip Girl vibes, and american series vibes, too. Not my type, but is kinda sharing the bucket with OBTD in terms of ''weird YA vibes''.

Ghoulfriends (2012) - You're fed up with the main squad ? Well, follow Robecca, Venus, and Rochelle in their own adventures ! Yes, Draculaura and the others are not whole MC, and this book is the canon proof that the ''Normie Bad'' plot is not a surprise, and a recurring thing.

Nessi Monstrata Diaries Series (2014 - 2015) - The closest to G1 lore in my personal opinion. Draculaura gain a new stepmother called Ramoanah, for example - knowing her backstory, I think this was cute and interesting. Also, Deydet, Cleo's mother, return, too. But read the Hexiciah diary, and you will see the beautiful thing of canon continuities...

For me, these two lasts are the G1 canon, but you are free to have you're own opinion.

I'm legitimate to like the G1 ? - Yes, even if you prefer childish content - it's not make you a ''unlegitimate adult'' or ''immature person''. But please, remember that G1 is by nature a whole multiverse by itself. Some hate that, but it's a doll brand, and so, a necessity. I think the true tragedy will be when they will want to impose a canon against all continuities that make people's own canon.

2022 and additional contents (yes, this seems separated from actual G1 for me - if you doubt this, I invite you to remember the first steps of G2 who were also not clear, and the Canon's definition of MH on the Wiki - many conflicts were also resolved in the main G1 continuity, and the authors just put them again).

General Particularities - Follow the webisodes, but seems more a very light reboot of G1 for YA, actually ? I don't know what is that, exactly. The Haunt Coutures Diaries were... fine, but off ? It can have potential, but G1 is technically finished for me.

Webisodes are the only other media included in the promotion, too. So... YA reboot ? YA new continuity or ''parallel dimension'' ? Or something.

Diaryverse - Nothing to say, for now. The Haunt Couture Diaries doesn't even seems canon to the novels and comics for now. Clawd is always with Draculaura, for example, and the themes are more MH-like. Too little content to judge yet, so for now, separated just in case.

IDW-verse

Particularities - The IDW-verse seems to be based on G1, but cherry-pick the lore. Despite the fact that this came very late, and shouldn't technically be G1 as the Gen was cancelled before G2, it's actually an AU or What If by judging the fact that this is not considered as a Sequel in advertisement, but just a canon book (Canon mean ''Mattel accepted and published'', but doesn't mean a linear canon, sequel, or following, of the main G1 continuity and contents). The comics are not finished, so I can't say more, for now - because obviously, it's not finished.

It's a Sequel of G1 ? - No already judging by the book, but it's canon to the MH multiverse and start his own continuity. I invite you to read Ghoulfriends and Hexiciah Steam's SDDC diary in parallel, to have a more clear visual of that ''continuity'' thing, and see why I'm saying that... These two elements are canon too, if you ask.

I'm legitimate to like the IDW-verse ? - Yes. Despite the fact that I'm hating the new YA novel (can't judge the comics for now), I'm not hating you and you're choices. Do what you want, accept other fan's opinons and let them know to respect you're also.

Upcoming YA Movieverse ?

Hypothetical particularities ? Universal and Mattel are producing a Monster High movie right now - not sure this is G1, but I doubt this will be the IDW au (technically, IDW is separated of other continuities). I'm hoping they put another storyline with better vibes personally - reflecting another side of Monster High. The YA novel didn't sound Monster High to me, but as a licencied fanfic (fanfic are not bad, but are not always serious on the lore, vibes, relationships, and all...).

END WORD

Be yourself, be unique.

Don't be scared.

G1 will be more vast for the future. But if you're a G1 of old, you know that continuity is part of Mattel's brand. One continuity never erase another - G1 fans are in their right to accept the new contents as part of their own canon (and canon, like I say, can be the same or a different continuity - it's a taste and fan's specificity), and other are in their right to reject it as part of their own continuities / canons.

But all of this is Canon in general for everyone, because otherwise, everyone would not have the right to have their own continuities and canons. Monster High is for diversity - remember ?

You just choose you're own Continuity - and you can even have different ones, different stories not connected at all, that you will cherish as part of you're favorite childhood and hyper-fixation.

We have the chance to have a doll brand for everyone, for every stories, and every generations or playground, remember ?

[kithtaehyung]

re: people being upset by reader in window (and nothing to do with the ask game in which we all need to go to church)

i think the downfall of reader inserts is that everyone wants to see themselves in the character. but we're all different people, so that's not possible. and people tend to get really upset when reader makes choices that are different than the ones they would make because it ruins their immersion. (i also think that there's a lot of projecting going on when folks get that upset by a choice or action but that's not the point here).

to me, reader's feelings and behaviors are in line with the background we have of them throughout the whole series. yoongi too. healing isn't linear. reader is still going to have insecurities and their own past heartbreak is still going to get in the way. that's true for ALL of us. and yoongi's own past in regards to relationships (or the willful lack thereof) is also not going to disappear. it's been made clear throughout the entire series that whatever yoongi and reader have is new to both of them. yoongi's past has fueled reader's insecurities due to her own past (fuck off jungkook and all partners following him) many times up until window, and that's very reasonable. and then, on this trip, there's also the fact that reader and their brother have their own family stuff regarding the holidays which puts them both in a bad mood. AND THEN on top of that yoongi and reader's entire relationship is a secret. they have to hide, and that's not easy either. it can be really easy to forget what reader knows about how yoongi feels when their reality does not line up with what happens between the two of them behind closed doors.

i'm saying all of this because i don't want you to keep thinking that you weren't thinking things through enough or that you posted too quickly. i want to make sure you know that what you wrote DID make sense for the storyline and that it WAS in line with everything else that has happened throughout the series. people are entitled to not like how things played out, but from the little you've said about the feedback you got, they did not approach you kindly about it. the anonymity of the internet can make some people act with so much less respect than they would if they were talking to you face to face.

and i want to reiterate this again: i've ALWAYS found that when i really dislike something about another person, it's because i see that exact trait/behavior/etc. in myself. and i do think that's true for all of us. reader inserts are the ultimate tool for projection, and when being faced with something they don't like or don't resonate with, people react strongly. you're not the first author i've seen this EXACT thing happen to. at the end of the day, i wholeheartedly believe that it's not personal and that it doesn't actually reflect on your writing or your choices. reader inserts are a double edged sword in that they are as inclusive as possible but for that very reason it's just not possible for every single person who reads to be represented.

take as long as you need to feel comfortable with posting. i understand why it got to you, it definitely would have gotten to me too. thank you for showing up for us anyway 🫂 i hope you had a wonderful time in korea!!!! and that you have so much fun with yoongi AGAIN. thank you for being you 💕

WHOA Nicki when the hell did you send this?? Holy shit I didn’t see it until I actually clicked my inbox!

But damn.. thank you for saying all of this. I don’t really have anything else to add other than that because I’m extremely grateful. If it did make sense then I feel LOADS better because the things people were saying made me feel like I genuinely messed up my own characters. Ngl it hurt for days (but yeah, this was a long time ago and I’m better now!)

And thank you for the commentary on these characters, too🫂 I love that they are human and complex and don’t always make the best choices. While it’s frustrating to readers, trust me when it’s frustrating to me too and I’m writing it LOLLL but I want it to be realistic and/or not ideal.

We have a long way to go with their journey. I’m in no rush🤍

[calamitaswrath]

Cal Lucia plays Fire Emblem Path of Radiance: Chapter 16

Oh damn, I know that track from Smash! Quite the deep cut though to have a random character theme in there, hah.

Pretty rich of Ike to call out Tormod for speaking out of line in front of Sanaki. But, I suppose it also shows a bit of growth, in that he is now more familiar with this world, so I suppose we can let this one slide.

Ahh, so Ike did put two and two together! That's good. He really would have been a bit dense if after all this, he couldn't figure out what those "merchants" were all about. But considering that he's not taking the credit for working this out, the jury on him personally is still out.

Well then, let's look at the base conversations. Only two this time around, hm.

The conversation with Muasir and Tormod. . . well, now there's some heavy stuff. Pretty interesting to read, even if there is not much for me to actually comment on with it.

Stefan's - pfft, what a way to start it. Even Ike's confused where this guy came from. But he offers to teach Ike, and I get a skill out of it, so that's neat. I gotta admit that I haven't really used many of these skills yet, because I'm just not sure which skill to best put on which character, hah.

Got some more support conversations that I wanted to look at! Jill and Mist's is once again short, but it is rather sweet. Ike and Soren's on the other hand. . . well, that's not what I would have expected from a glance into his backstory.

Dumped a whole bunch of bexp into Mist, got her to level 17, and then promoted her, just so that she can do something.

. . .What do you mean, she uses swords now and not magic

Well, off to the actual map. And I really do like the setup for this one! Sneaking into a nobleman's manor for a search is definitely a unique setup for a Fire Emblem map.

Though in terms of gameplay, I have to say that this linear type of map really doesn't play well with anybody but mounted units. I still brought a bunch of unmounted ones, but they are not having a good time.

Huh, I guess all my resetting for good level-ups with Mist did actually pay off. She does have a respectable enough attack stat now, allowing her to do actual damage with a sword to enemies. That's neat.

New character with Devdan! With him. . . well, I think I've seen his design before at least, but not much beyond that. It is a good design though, and he seems like a fun enough guy.

The requirement for maximum bonus experience on this map was eight turns, which. . . yeah, no. I beat the map in 15. I wanted that treasure, and played things a bit carefully, so I guess that was to be expected.

And Reyson is goneson. That whole scene was a bit weirdly resolved, though - neither Oliver nor Reyson leaving was really shown, but I suppose that wasn't really necessary in the end.

And here we go, getting filled in on the massacre of Serene's Forest. And, uh. . . kinda eyebrow-raising that this website is named after that place? But I suppose I can somewhat see it.

Also oof @ Nasir throwing that subtle shade at Sanaki by saying that the empress from 20 years ago was greater than any before or since

I do have to wonder a bit about Sanaki, though. Is she the granddaughter of that empress? Because unless we have a "looks like a child but is actually far older" deal going on, she can't be the daughter of that empress.

Urgh, tough spot to have to stop, though. I do already know that the next two chapters will need to be beaten back-to-back, and the story is going interesting places right now. . . but, I won't actually be able to play for two weeks, since I'll be gone til the 21st from this Wednesday, and I won't really have the time to continue playing before that. But I guess that gives me time to let the story thus far sink in.

[spinningbuster98]

Sonic the Hedgehog 3 & Knuckles Part 2: Eggman's hands are rated E for everybody!

I used to dislike Carnival Night as a kid because I thought it went on for too long, but nowadays I actually think it’s the strongest of the Classic games’ bouncy stages, not going too crazy with the bumpers while still having a nice dose of platforming and speed. Plus it’s full of cool little shortcuts and secrets! And yeah: the barrels. The way you are supposed to use them is not communicated well at all, but honestly? I don’t think they really hurt the level in the end, as once you figure them out they stop being an issue, unlike the spinning tops in Marble Garden. About the only thing I don’t like here is the music: generic circus music with a hip hop remix? Ehh. I could never tell the difference between the two acts’ versions

Icecap is fantastic, even though it really has no business being so fun. In a game with so many big and expansive stages, Icecap is really tiny and linear, especially Act 1 where, once you figure out the gimmick, you’re pretty much just going on a straight line. This is one case I think where aesthetics, music and overall style are all that’s needed to make a fun and memorable level, which is certainly helped by this stage being an exception, with another example being Hydrocity Act 2, which means that the game knows not to forego substance in favor of style overall, it just likes to mix things up from time to time

Launch Base shares similar obstacle placement issues as Marble Garden, but I find it less obnoxious here because it’s technically a “final level” of sorts so it’s more justified, plus the fire shield can at least help you against the flamethrowers and there are no annoying gimmicks. Besides it’s pretty memorable from a story perspective given how it features the Death Egg looming ominously in the background throughout Act 1, only for you to stop its launch in Act 2, but not before taking a short ride in Eggman’s hover pod (also screw you Knuckles, I hope you got a nice bath)

The Big Arms boss fight (yeah I’m playing Sonic 3 Complete, because why shouldn’t I?), while iconic in its own way, is also...not the best? It’s got a similar issue as most bosses from SA1 in the sense that you have to wait for him to first do something in order to damage him. Now this is better than SA1′s bosses because at least it tests your precision given the narrow hitbox, but since he only comes down to grab you twice (or four times with Knuckles, which is why he has the better fight imo) before performing an attack when you can’t harm him unless you have a Super form and position yourself just right, this makes it more tedious than fun, heck I’d argue that the bigger danger here is the possibility of getting a Time Over!

The music on the other hand is phenomenal, genuinely one of my favorite tracks in the entire series, hell Eggman’s theme in this game is actually my favorite for the character, even more than the likes of his theme from SA2 and 06! Sonic 3 in general I think has my favorite OST of the Mega Drive trilogy. It’s really tough to decide since they’re all very good and memorable, and tbf Sonic 3 does have Carnival Night, which is a dud, but stuff like Angel Island, Hydrocity Act 2, Marble Garden, Icecap, Flying Battery, Lava Reef, Doomsday Zone, it’s such a varied OST too given how now each Act has its own variation!

[rayclubs]

Hey I was just wondering, so you have any tips for pacing when you’re writing your fics? I only ask because I’m having a bit of trouble with it at the moment, and you never seem to linger too long or gloss over things too quickly in yours. Anyway that’s all, hope you’re having a great day!

Yeah! I mean, I'm sure as hell no expert on pacing, god knows I struggle with it A LOT, but I feel like I've learned some things over the years that I can share, and then maybe it'll help somebody!

The advice I've seen a lot in variations is "always have everything planned". Every scene has to make sense. Every bit has to contribute. Every line needs to be important. Always have an ending in mind. Yadda yadda yadda. Well, I'm some type of neurodivergent and I really can't do that at all, I rarely have any more than a setup, a bit in the middle, and a vague idea of a fade-out 90s song ending - if not less.

The way I go around this is: if you don't know how to write a scene, don't write it.

Characters are at Point A, but I need them to travel to Point B. The scene of them traveling is a goddamn pain in the ass. How do I write it? I don't. I say "At Point B, they-" and continue the story.

Another good trick is to remember that you are writing in a non-linear space, meaning you can skip over things and then come back.

Sometimes when two things don't work one after the other, I swap them and see what happens. Sometimes I combine them - like, in the last chapter of Blank Slate, I was supposed to write Heavy meet Pyro, the Scout, but I thought Pyro and Scout at the same time would be more exciting. Dunno if it worked as intended, but I like it better.

Setup and payoff is also good. When you introduce something - that's setup. When that thing resolves - that's payoff. Thespace between them is like a circle, the setup and payoff are giving your text a li'l hug. For a good example of this see my fic Close Call, it's packed with these. For a simpler example see Speak Up, it's got like three or four circle, like a matreshka. I can do a detailed breakdown sometime but it feels kind of obnoxious, I'm a bit, uh, shy about my writing.

Another thing I love is using sentence length to communicate scene energy. Short sentences for action, long structures for instrospection. Long to short for sudden stops and accents, short to long for scene transitions and timeskips. Also, intersperse long dialogues with action blocks to create smaller sections with more contained dialogue topics that are easier to follow.

Cutting useless dialogue is always good. I like to say a line is no good if you can't tell who's saying it without a dialogue tag, but you can't always follow that rule. Still. Good to keep in your head.

Dialogue order, too! If Character A and Character B are talking, and A is saying a line in Paragraph 1, A's next line will be on Paragraph 3. If you have A's line on 1, B's line on 2, action on 3 - well, you can't put A's on 4, you need another action on 4 so A lands on 5. I hope this makes sense. If it doesn't, let me know and I'll go more in detail. I try to always follow this rule, at least within one scene, sometimes across scenes - it really helps cutting out unnecessary dialogue tags that clutter the text.

I think I do this thing where I overexplain everything. Honestly still not sure if the dialogue between Spy and Sniper near the end of Close Call was obvious to everybody or so obscured in round-about hints that nobody got it. But it's fine! Generally I think you want to have your audience figure some things out, I think. Not restate the same clever plot point many times beause you fear people won't get it. Just say it once and pray to god. It takes some major balls tho, if I'm being fully honest.

This is getting long so I'm gonna close with: write what you're excited to write! If you're not excited about writing a scene, don't think "How am I going to write this?", think "How am I going to avoid writing this?". Kill the first draft servant in your brain, it's only malicious non-compliance from here onward.

[greywindys]

I’m so upset about how they just threw all of Murdoc’s character development out the window. Ik I shouldn’t be surprised but it still makes me so mad like “oh we have an entire phase about him finally facing some of the consequences for his actions and showing actual betterment by the end of it. So now that that’s done how can we make him insufferable again.” Dgmw bastard Murdoc should always exist but he can be a bastard with character development and actual interesting writing.

Yeah, I completely understand how you feel. It's really frustrating to watch a character you care about grow with the knowledge in the back of your head that it could easily be retconned or changed whenever the writers want to.

Personally, though, I don't see this phase a full regression. He bullied 2D, but it wasn't as extreme as earlier phase. I would expect him to still be an asshole to him, even if he isn't outright beating him up as the two still have resentment to work out (that likely won't eve be addressed, but yeah). I think they've done a good enough job showing that Murdoc doesn't actually have the control over the band that he says he does, that no one in the band really takes him seriously, and that he's an overall ineffective loser in general as opposed to this cunning, overpowered (he aaaalways got away with things) bastard he was depicted as in the earlier phases. His role as this weird old guy who no one takes seriously has its issues, but I think it makes sense for him esp post SM. Because at the same time, they've been able to depict Murdoc as someone who cares, but is still figuring out how comfortable he is with publicly showing his insecurities without lying, even when it's obvious he's lying (often the story contradicts his version of events). So we know he isn't all bad. Progress isn't linear. I think what happened in TLC can be true and valid at the same time as Murdoc getting wrapped up in his own delusions and making fun of 2D. I do think the whole cult story line this phase could have been a lot better, but I wasn't as disappointed in his role this phase as I was expecting to be. I didn't mind it, actually.