#without the horror of failing (or consequences)

[depresseddepot]

weird thing about me is that I am so serious about new year's resolutions that the last week of december feels like I'm in one of those "preparing for war" montages (but in a good way)

[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.

��ˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Spoiler Alert: Bad. It could be bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Free of charge my ass.

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

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

Pound!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock knock knock’

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

Knock knock knock!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked back at you, “Deal.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Took you long enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How come?” you asked simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Gaz.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I'll think about it.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Price.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Price was devouring you like a man starving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

“[Name].”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As you blacked out, you heard a gunshot fire.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John smiled, “I love you too.”

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

You were going to be just fine.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Hey, don't go!

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

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

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

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Taglist

@rafaelacallinybbay @nellabear @z03ch4n @evashi @freshlemontea @fanfin-glutton @achbbys000 @glitteryarcadefart @lveegsoi @hippopotamusdreamer @matixity @eternallyvenus @simplyymee98 @pinkfqiry @fraserbraw @gibbsgirl7 @blackhawkfanatic @thecursebreaker @scaryplanetdestroyer @spicyspicyliving @locker-130 @moranguito0 @whos-fran @whisperwispxx @slut-lmao @thriving-n-jiving @nexthyperfix @juliat398 @ninaak @sleepyghxul @ravenmoore14 @angelicccdesire

So sorry if you weren’t tagged and you wanted to be, some of the usernames weren’t showing up!

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Part I of… Captains Girl: ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Thank you

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

[imastoryteller]

19 Most Common Character Flaws in Horror Fiction

Curiosity: Characters who are overly curious may investigate dangerous situations or places, leading to their downfall.

Arrogance: Arrogant characters may underestimate threats or refuse to heed warnings, putting themselves in danger.

Recklessness: Characters who act impulsively or without considering the consequences may find themselves in perilous situations.

Naivety: Naive characters may be easily deceived or manipulated by villains or supernatural forces.

Overconfidence: Overconfident characters may believe they can handle any situation, leading them to take unnecessary risks.

Stubbornness: Stubborn characters may refuse to listen to advice or change their course of action, even when it's clear they're in danger.

Greed: Greedy characters may prioritize personal gain over safety, leading them to make unethical or dangerous choices.

Distrust: Characters who are overly distrustful may alienate allies or miss crucial information, making them more vulnerable.

Cowardice: Cowardly characters may abandon others in dangerous situations or fail to confront threats when necessary.

Impulsiveness: Impulsive characters may act without thinking, leading to mistakes or putting themselves in harm's way.

Lack of Empathy: Characters who lack empathy may disregard the well-being of others, making them more susceptible to manipulation or isolation.

Overprotectiveness: Overprotective characters may prioritize the safety of loved ones to the detriment of their own safety or the safety of others.

Addiction: Characters who are addicted to substances or behaviors may make irrational decisions or be more easily controlled by external forces.

Obsession: Characters who are obsessed with a goal or idea may pursue it at any cost, even endangering themselves or others.

Paranoia: Paranoid characters may see threats where none exist, leading them to take extreme measures or isolate themselves unnecessarily.

Lack of Self-awareness: Characters who lack self-awareness may fail to recognize their own limitations or the impact of their actions on others.

Insecurity: Insecure characters may doubt their own abilities or judgment, making them more susceptible to manipulation or self-destructive behavior.

Ignorance: Characters who are ignorant of the true nature of the threats around them may underestimate their danger or fail to take necessary precautions.

Desperation: Characters who are desperate may make rash decisions or ally themselves with dangerous individuals or entities in hopes of achieving their goals.

[saturdaysky]

You may resist, but it's too late. You already embraced the powers the parasite gave you. You leveraged them to manipulate, to dominate, to survive. Your nature is no longer your own.

Mayhew failed the save to resist the Emperor's offer, and I have never been more pleased at a consequence! What an amazing moment.

Timelapse, line drawing, and character musing beneath the cut.

This choice!! Or rather, this lack of choice!

I love, love, love how failing the save made Mayhew's own will ambiguous, even to himself. He didn't want to be changed, he didn't want to forfeit his humanity (gnomanity)...or did he? He resisted. He opened his mouth to say I will not, but the door to his mind was already unlocked, power welcomed in. Mayhew will never know who unlatched it.

Also, while this is a Gale run -- Mayhew and Gale make each other worse in the most devoted, well-meaning way; the heavens will rue their names -- it also kind of feels like an Emperor run. A subtextual badwrong not-romance.

The Emperor and Mayhew are allies of circumstance turned intimate enemies. The Emperor listens to Mayhew's every thought, gives protection which Mayhew needs, offers advice and temptations which Mayhew takes. Mayhew likes the Dream Guardian; Mayhew cannot shut the Emperor out. Mayhew would see the Emperor dead, if he let himself think about it, but he would miss him after he was gone. And, of course, Mayhew is too curious for his own good, and the Emperor is full of answers.

For the two of them, partial ceremorphosis is a kind of consummation: what could be more intimate than shaping someone from within and without? Metaphorphosis is a gift, by one telling, and a horror story by another.

You are exquisite, the Emperor praised. Mayhew will never know if he became so by his own will.

(He failed the save by one (1) point.)

---

Timelapse! It includes all the silly things I drew for my friends, including: 1 tonsure, 3 neon signs, 2 cat emoji, 1 crotch face, and the emperor's armor drawn with my left hand. Spot them all!

Lines!

I don't usually work primarily with line, but I love it. In some ways, it's easier than painting, and in other ways much harder. I find I can't fudge things as much with linework as I can with paint; because the stroke is smaller, I have to be more specific. Even if I abstract details away, I need to understand the underlying form until I know what I am abstracting. It was fun having to be so rigorous.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Marriage Proposal

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: You should’ve broken up with Peter long ago. Now you deal with the consequences. 

WARNINGS: --  

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

–

You reluctantly look up from your plate at the feeling of a hand covering your own, the warmth irradiating from the firm palm making you itchy to remove the hand, but you let it be. 

"Happy anniversary, babe.” Peter smiles at you, so genuine and loving, and you force your lips to stretch into a pleasant smile. 

“I can’t believe we’ve been together for a year now. I feel like we’ve only met yesterday but here we are.” he says with a chuckle.

“It’s as if time flies away when you’re in love, right?”

You weakly nod, opting to bring the wine glass to your lips to give you an excuse to avert eyes. But that doesn’t stop the turmoil of emotions that devastates you inside, the guilt eating you away.

You’re a horrible girlfriend. And a coward one too. One that keeps prolonging and dragging time, too timid to break-up. 

Not tonight, you decide, delaying the confrontation furthermore. Peter is so happy and you’d hate to break his heart on such an occasion.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

“This place is really gorgeous, I love it.” you say, allowing your eyes to wander around the restaurant.

The place is indeed pretty. Elegant but at the same time, private and personal. It suits Peter. 

Tension accompanies throughout the entire dinner as you play the girlfriend role dutifully, pretending to laugh at Peter’s jokes and smiling at him. 

A part of you feels so bad for it, there used to be a time where you actually loved Peter.

You still like and respect him, he’s a great guy, unlike many men. But you’re no longer the same person that you were when you meet him. 

And Peter…

He’s the one that took a 180º change. Deep inside, he probably means well, intending to protect you but that isn’t enough to make you stay.

Not if you want to have a toxic-free life. A life without having to answer a full interrogation when you plan to hang out with friends.

A life without having to call and text your boyfriend about what you’re doing, otherwise he’ll most likely show up at your workplace, face pinched with worry because you failed to contact him. 

You’re so caught up by your thoughts that you wince, surprised when people start clapping and cheering, everyone’s attention fully on your table. 

When you confusedly look for Peter, your whole world drops. 

The world seems to stop when you look to your side as Peter gets down on one knee, a jittery smile curling his lips. 

Your face drops in horror, mind frozen and unable to think. 

“Peter…”

“I know, I know.” he brushes you off, joy irradiating from him, “Just let me say this first, yeah? I’m so nervous.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times and you blink, unable to fully comprehend what’s going on. This can’t be true…

This has to be a prank, there’s no way that Peter is actually proposing to you. But your doubts are swiftly cleared as a small and elegant velvet box appears in the scene.

No…

Peter clears out his throat with a small noise before looking at you, and you realize how nervous he actually is, a light layer of sweat in his forehead.

“I had this whole speech ready, you know. Been preparing it for weeks now.” he confesses after a long moment, shaking his head.

“Tony helped me write it. Lots of fancy poetic words and-and I completely forgot all of it.”

“But what I really wanna say is that I love you, Y/N.” Peter declares, his voice gaining determination, “From the moment I saw you, I knew that you were the one for me. I was lucky enough that you gave me a chance to prove to you how much I care for you…”

Your heart tightens at those words and you clutch the table’s fabric, feeling yourself helpless. 

“... and this past year has been amazing. The best year of my life. All because of you.” Peter smiles tenderly at you, his hands working on opening the velvet box and you feel yourself tensing up when a delicate silver ring comes into sight. 

“So…Y/N L/N, will you give me the honor of being your husband?” 

And just like that, you faintly nod, not trusting your voice to speak. Peter beams at you and you do your best to retribute, despite the numbness that strikes you like a bullet.

The restaurant explodes in a loud applause and Peter wastes no time in pushing the pretty ring on your hand, engulfing you in a tight hug. 

“I love you so much.” he feverously kisses your head.

You push your face against his chest, hoping to hide the tears that burn in your eyes as you start regretting saying yes already.

[queenvhagar]

"Fire and Blood is biased propaganda by the maesters so nothing in the real Dance of the Dragons actually happened like in the books, you can't critique the show for showing things as they really were!"

I'm so tired of this take...

GRRM wrote the original ASOIAF series as an anti-monarchy and anti-war story. He's an author who makes a point to flesh out characters and motivations, he understands that there isn't truly a good vs bad narrative to any large-scale, real-world conflict like war, and he understands the sociopolitical factors involved. His series highlights that it's the most vulnerable people in society who suffer when those in power play their game of thrones and make consequential decisions based on their own personal motivations without thought to the consequences to those that will have to the pay the price for them. That's GRRM's entire point with the original series: war destroys everything, it is never really justified, and through war the powerful set in motion terrible events that the most vulnerable are most like to suffer.

So the idea that all of a sudden with the prequel book Fire and Blood GRRM pivoted to write a biased textbook that purposefully misconstrues a conflict where the real story behind the pages is that one side of a dynastic civil war was led by a faultless, pure woman whose divine right to rule was stolen from her, and she's justified in plunging the realm into war to reclaim her throne because the other side was uniquely misogynist against her and was made up of selfish flawed people who just wanted to steal her power from her because she was a woman...

Sure, Fire and Blood may be a history book with unreliable narrators and sources that are trying to recount long-lost histories of the realm and possibly failing to capture the totality of what actually occurred. But I can absolutely guarantee you that the intended real history of the Dance of the Dragons as it took place in the world of ASOIAF was not some black and white, good vs bad tale of morality where one side was right and the other side was wrong like the show and some fans are insisting.

The actual Dance of Dragons as it exists in the ASOIAF timeline and universe, keeping in line with GRRM's original intention and message of the ASOIAF books, is 100% a story of a flawed, ultra-powerful family that fractured into two ideologically different factions that led to a pointless civil war in which neither side was justified in their attempts to seize power from the other. The result was that the family killed themselves until the only survivors were the traumatized children left over from either faction. In this pursuit of absolute power within one family thousands were subjected to the abject horrors of war: pillaging, famine, torture, sexual violence, being burned alive, and so much more. Neither side was faultless. Neither side had "the right" or justification to enact this conflict. Neither side bore sole responsibility for the conflict. Neither side was good or bad while the other was the opposite.

It really just fits outside of the world of ASOIAF to think that Fire and Blood's account of the Dance of the Dragons was uniquely biased against a single woman and her side of the conflict wherein this woman and her supporters were actually good people that had bad things done to them and all accounts in the book relating to them are inaccurate, yet most accounts of everyone else in the story were more or less true and accurate to how events played out. Like are you actually serious that this is how you think this story and history played out in this world of ASOIAF? That ultimately the story of the Dance of the Dragons is not anti-monarchy and anti-war in line with the original ASOIAF series but actually it's the story of a uniquely good woman in this terrible world who had a rightful claim to the throne and whose power was taken from her solely because of misogyny so she was justified in going to war to take it back? Like that's your analysis and interpretation on this conflict?

The way that the show is presenting this story is so unbelievably and ridiculously reductionist and simplified to the point where you begin to question why someone wanted to try to adapt the material at all... but then of course you remember that 1) Game of Thrones made a lot of money for a lot of people 2) its later seasons of mediocre, oversimplified writing continued to be rewarded with huge budgets, profits, and awards nominations despite the obvious downgrade of quality 3) so many modern writers believe the general audience needs to be spoonfed ideas and that they can't handle complexity, so it's more important that they shape an existing story into something that is a palatable, profitable hero vs villain tale that everyone can casually enjoy (and ideally appeals to modern sensibilities) than they try to create a compelling, thought-provoking, interesting and faithful adaptation of the source material.

[vickyvicarious]

Oh yes, the feeling that you have to rely to the creeper who you loathe so much that you have come to hate even the rooms he resides in, that he's not the scariest thing in your life, that you have to run to his arms for safety. Horror! Dracula claiming him was the high point of the entry (than the almost-bite)

Honestly, yeah. The dynamics between Dracula and Jonathan are so scary, to the point that all the supernatural events are the cherry on top rather than the main course, as far as the horror of this section goes.

Dracula does so much manipulation here, holds so many different kinds of power over Jonathan, and multiple levels of each too. He's got physical power - both in the sense of the castle being a prison, and in the sense of his incredible strength. He's got social power - as a noble, and as a client/boss. He's got monetary power over Jonathan too, able to potentially make or ruin his career. He has so much control over Jonathan's ability to express himself - he's the only company available to him, he's forcing him to keep up a pretense of friendship, he's limiting and controlling his communication with others. Jonathan has no escape: he can't go out of the castle because he's locked in, he can't go many places inside the castle because he's locked out of them, and now he can't leave the rooms Dracula wants him in because otherwise the vampire ladies will get him, and within those rooms there is nowhere safe from Dracula himself. Jonathan has seemingly no action he can take: if he sneaks around behind Dracula's back, a greater threat awaits. If he acts openly, Dracula's own threat may become realized. If he doesn't act at all, he's doomed. If he acts at all, he's doomed. If he trusts Dracula, he's doomed. If he doesn't trust Dracula, he's doomed.

Of course, the supernatural elements are the mechanics by which Dracula increases the stakes, the threats underlying the charming veneer. Specifically, the introduction of the vampire women is what puts Jonathan in this seemingly inescapable box, and one with potential threats to something even greater than his life.

But Dracula's playing this Bluebeard role and could have done so with some more mundane threat as well, without changing too terribly much about his own actions. Where he's scariest (at least to me) is in these interactions with Jonathan, in these manipulative webs and traps he lays out in his words, in the way he pushes so many boundaries until they're forced to collapse or warp under the pressure. Jonathan's privacy keeps getting worn away. Dracula's speech and touch get more familiar and more possessive. He started out the first night blaming Jonathan for the things he did himself ('oh, why did you make your conversation so interesting we had to stay up all night?') and escalates until now he's making Jonathan be the one to act, and to suffer the consequences: whether in forcing him to lie to his loved ones, or in dangling the bait of sleeping outside his room and then only barely saving him when he does. And Jonathan has no real choice but to act. To fail to do so, in one way or another, would mean giving up all hope at escape or likely even survival. But because he has to act, he winds up feeling complicit. He ends up in situations where Dracula thanks him, forgives him, saves him. It keeps putting them on seemingly the same side, with Jonathan in a lesser/reliant role. And that's all a huge lie, at its core. But in a very real way, it's true too, to an extent. More and more, he's getting layers of resistance scraped away, and having to seek safety from Dracula now is so, so horrifying. In many ways all he truly has left is his will to live, his internal determination to resist - and now he's been given powerful incentive not to trust in that latter part too much. It's absolutely brutal.

He's walking a wire that just keeps getting thinner and thinner. All he can possibly do is try to keep this balancing act going, and hope for something to change that will give him more options down the line.

[naamahdarling]

What are the elevator game and Three Kings?

They're modern folklore/urban legend ritual games games akin to Bloody Mary, spread by creepypasta memes across the internet for thrills and chills. (I actually love creepypasta. There's some excellent horror in the genre. Ted the Caver and Candle Cove are both super cool, those aren't hard to find.)

The Elevator Game supposedly originates in Japan or South Korea, and involves getting into an elevator and pressing the buttons in a certain sequence in order to reach a surreal otherworld, with dire consequences should they fail to follow all the rules. It doesn't have a goal or reward, just the appeal of accessing a creepy alternate reality. It's a fairly popular bit of modern folklore and I enjoy it for its modern yet classic feel and its specificity. This is a game that it is actually feasible to play, unlike a lot of other modern creepypasta ritual games, which can be very complicated.

The Three Kings Ritual is another creepypasta ritual game, and it's a fucking banger. I HIGHLY recommend you read it in full.

It has a great name, great symbolism, a creepy as shit setup, and a genuine chance, I think, at getting something fucked up to happen (in the sense that you could very easily experience some trippy visual distortion and possibly some auditory stuff as well from the white noise of the fan).

It genuinely put my hairs up the first time with these bits (the bolded and italicized bits are of particular note):

Place one chair in the center of the room. ....Place the other two chairs exactly to the left and right, facing your throne. The distance between your throne and that of your queen and fool should be about the length of your arm to each side, more or less. Place the two large mirrors on the queen and fool chairs left and right of you, facing you (and each other). Try your best to have them stand at a 90 degree angle (or else you may get more or less than three kings). If you sit on your throne facing straight ahead (north), you should be able to perceive your own reflection in each of the two mirrors without actually having to turn your head nor your eyes to do so. If you see your own reflection in the corner of your eye, just barely there, then you've done it right.

So you can see how this would lend itself to seeing things. Mirrors are already creepy. With a small light in a dark room, it gets worse. This isn't about a demon or vengeful spirit, just...presences, which is much creepier to me because on some level it feels more plausible.

Look straight ahead, at the darkness. Not at the candle, not at the mirrors, just straight ahead. Eagle-eyed readers surely noticed I didn't say during setup which chair was queen and which chair was fool. That's because it's your job to find out. And from their point of view, you are either their queen or their fool, too. Hence three kings.

Fucking hell.

Again the goal is nebulous. The original text leaves so many things unanswered. Are we to converse with these entities, to ask questions? What the actual fuck happens if you get the angle wrong and get more than two spirits?

All I know is that I am curious. This is absolutely my favorite ritual game.

[writingwithfolklore]

Failing with Momentum

                Last time we talked about antagonists so this time we’re talking about conflict. Sometimes I think writers are afraid to allow their characters to fail. Trust me, there’s a big difference between characters making poor decisions that seemed good in the moment (or failing), and being the protagonists in slasher horror movies. Your characters can be a bit stupid, and fail often, without ruining your plot or characterization.

1. Fail Forward

                One way we do this is by allowing them to fail forward. This means that your plot actually relies on their failure, rather than just on their successes. They get totally rejected for the school dance, but that leaves them out in the hall to witness something they weren’t meant to see. They get caught sneaking around in the bad guy’s lair, but now they know their accomplice is actually on the other side.

                This takes reworking of your entire plot, so consider while crafting your outline how a failure can get the character to where they need to be rather than a success.

2. Everything comes with consequences

Another way to allow your character to fail is to not reveal that they’ve failed right away. Most decisions we (and characters) make aren’t so black and white—right or wrong. It shouldn’t be obvious right away when a character has done something stupid—we reveal that it was stupid later on, when consequences come back to haunt them.

So another way to say “let your characters fail” is just “let your characters face consequences.” Maybe a decision isn’t necessary stupid, or ‘bad’. Maybe it allows them to achieve something they really needed to. However, it should also come with unintended consequences—a negative to the positive.

3. Failing is a chance to show their strengths

When something (usually caused by the antagonist) stands in their way, it’s just another chance for them to demonstrate what they’re strong at. Say the antagonist kills the person who has all the answers before the protagonist gets to talk to them, now they have to pivot—maybe they dig up the information through research, or find someone related to talk to, or reach out via medium to the spirit realm, whatever.

This pivoting is the kind of challenge that allows your character to grow. Their path isn’t a straight-shot, easy romp through a meadow but one filled with twists and disappointments and frustrations and challenges. They are forced to do things they maybe never would have, and this leads to them thinking about themselves or their worlds differently.

What other ways are there to fail forward?

[fandoms-x-reader]

Replay - Bad Ending

Requested By: @f4gg0t-4-0b3y-m3

Part 1 - Part 2

Summary: No matter how hard you try to save your friends, death is unavoidable and they all meet their end. The Seven Demon Brothers + Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon & Solomon Featuring Luke, Raphael, Mephisto & Thirteen Warnings: Lots of angst! TW: Blood and Death Word Count: 5,436

A/N: The "Good Ending" to this story will be posted 08/08

You had spent countless hours formulating a plan with the others.

You shared multiple hugs of comfort and whispers of reassurances that you wouldn’t lose each other again.

And it was all for nothing.

You had to admit, you got your hopes up a bit.

You really believed that you were going to finally beat the nightmare that had been plaguing you for so long now.

It was easy to believe your friends when they had such high hopes and confidence.

It was easy to believe them when you were in their arms, feeling their heartbeat, as they promised not to leave you again. 

But, it was a promise they had no right to make.

Fate was out of their hands no matter how hard they tried to control it.

And the inevitable happened once again.

*

Lucifer had been the first to die. 

You would think that with how powerful he was, he would have managed to fend off his demise for longer than the others. That he would have found a way to preserve himself and survive.

But he had one weakness.

A weakness that was so strong that whenever it was threatened, he threw all caution and logical thinking out the window.

He lost control and attacked with only one concept driving him forward - protecting his family.

The moment he felt like his family was in danger, Lucifer went into defense mode. He saw red as he attacked furiously - recklessly.

The others were worried about him and expressed those worries, but everyone believed the eldest would find his way out of this situation.

They believed he would get them out of trouble just like he always did.

But, the attack came faster than he could dodge and all he could feel was searing pain as it made contact with him.

His eyes were wide as he was struck down, knowing that this time, his end was coming. And, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

You all watched in a mix of shock and horror as the eldest fell.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as the familiar pain of losing someone you loved so much started to overtake your senses.

You wanted to run to him - to try to save him. But, you wouldn’t be able to reach him in time.

And he didn’t want you to.

He had met your eyes with a somber expression and shook his head, telling you to stay back. He didn’t want you getting hurt too.

He was the oldest and it was his responsibility to protect everyone else even if it meant giving his life.

As his final moments approached though, he couldn’t help but feel like he failed you and his brothers.

He told you he would survive, that he would protect everyone, and yet he was the first to pass.

He had rebelled without a care in the world once before. It's what caused the Great Celestial War. And he knew that being careless could result in dire consequences.

If only he had taken a moment longer to think. If only he had formulated a plan instead of rushing in.

Maybe he wouldn't have met his end so soon.

Your body was tense as you watched Lucifer's body collapse to the ground.

You wanted to scream out in pain, but there was a sudden numbness that ran through you.

It overpowered your emotions. It overpowered your ability to move. 

You felt like your head was spinning as you realized - it was happening all over again.

*

Mammon was the next to go. 

After seeing Lucifer fall, Mammon accepted his role as the eldest brother.

He wanted to protect everyone just as Lucifer would have.

For every scummy or shady thing Mammon did, at the end of the day, he wanted to be a good brother.

And, he was determined to get everyone out of that place no matter what.

He was so much faster than his other brothers which meant he could help them dodge the attacks that were coming for them.

He had a good strategy. He managed to always stay one step ahead of the enemies.

He believed he could finally do something good to make up for all the cheap things he did to his brothers.

He believed he would finally be able to redeem himself in their eyes.

Then he looked to the side.

He saw you running as fast as you could, doing your best to survive just like the rest of them. You still looked so perfect.

His eyes widened as he saw an attack coming for you, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

He made his way to you as fast as he could, and your eyes locked as he took the blow that was meant for you.

Your heart stopped beating as Mammon slumped forward into you before the both of you fell to the ground.

You were cupping his face as tears poured down yours, desperately pleading with him to stay with you.

Mammon hated seeing you cry, but more than that he hated being the reason that you were crying.

You held his hand in yours as his eyes memorized every detail of your face. He wanted to remember it after he had passed.

He wanted to go out strong, like Lucifer had. But he held so much love for you.

And as his eyelids started getting heavier and heavier he couldn't help but seek out the validation he so desperately craved. He couldn't help but ask you to tell him he did good.

"I protected ya', right?" Mammon asked, his voice strained and his breathing labored.

You nodded your head as you did your best to hold your sobs in. "You always protect me, Mammon," you replied.

"Good. That's my job, ya' know? As your first," he responded, the words barely leaving his lips before he took his last breath.

And as his final words fell on your ears you couldn't help but place your forehead against Mammon's letting the tears freely pour down your cheeks as you lost the first demon you had ever made a pact with.

*

Levi had been panicking since the moment he watched Lucifer die.

Lucifer was the one who made all of the decisions. He was the one who always knew what to do.

Mammon had stepped up once the initial shock had passed. He had tried so hard to fill Lucifer's shoes.

But, when he was lost too, Levi knew he had to do something. If he didn’t, he would lose everyone.

Levi knew how to fight, and he knew how to fight well. He just preferred to fight in video games instead of in real life.

But now that the two oldest brothers were gone, Levi felt an immense amount of responsibility.

He got clarification on what it meant to be an older brother to the fullest extent.

He was the third-born for a reason, and he was going to make sure everyone knew it. No one messed with his family.

He brought every strategy he learned from his games to life, trying every attack pattern he knew.

He was going to beat this “final boss” just like he promised you he would.

You had been running alongside Levi, trying to help in whatever way you could.

Whether it be trying to protect the others or just trying to fight your way out, the two of you worked in tandem. Just like the Lord of Shadows and Henry would have. 

But you had turned your back for a second to block an attack and when you turned back around, you saw blood pouring out from a large wound on Levi's abdomen.

“L-Levi?” you asked, your brain trying to catch up with what you were seeing.

You had barely managed to get his name out before he fell to the ground.

You rushed forward, doing whatever you could to try and help him.

You noticed the look of fear in his eyes and you wanted to say something to soothe his worries.

You wanted to tell him anything you could to distract him from the pain he must have been feeling.

To take his mind off of the fact that it was only a matter of time before he passed away just like his older brothers.

But, the words you wanted to say didn't want to form in your mind or on your tongue.

You were speechless and instead of speaking, all you could do was try and fight the lump in your throat that was painfully forming.

Levi didn't blame you for not knowing what to say. He wouldn't know what to say either if the situation was reversed.

He took in one final shaky breath before muttering, “I wanted to be the hero.” 

*

Satan had never felt so angry before in his entire life. 

His wrath was at an uncontrollable level. A level he didn’t even know existed deep inside him.

Satan knew that he was born from Lucifer's wrath after the Great Celestial War.

He knew that he was born from the wrath of Lucifer losing his sister.

But, he didn’t know how painful it actually was to lose a sibling.

He hated Lucifer. He hated him because he didn’t want others to think he was a shadow of him.

But Lucifer was still his brother - his oldest brother. Who would he have to curse or cause trouble for without him?

And Mammon? Satan couldn’t count how many times he had called him scum or told him how stupid he was.

Even if he believed those words at certain moments, he had seen the times Mammon tried to be a good brother.

He had seen the times Mammon tried to make up for it. Why hadn’t he commented on those times?

But, poor Levi.

He had been so happy as a shut-in and Satan couldn't help but wonder if he’d still be with them if everyone hadn’t been so adamant on getting him to come out of his room.

He deserved better.

The pain of losing them and regret is what fueled his anger to the point where it was a burning hot fire raging inside of him.

He attacked without care. He had done the calculations in his head.

He knew that he wasn’t going to make it out of his fight. He knew that he didn’t stand a chance.

But, he wanted to do as much damage as possible before the end.

A small taste of revenge that he hoped would offer him some sense of gratification.

There was blood everywhere and Satan was clearly wounded. But he didn’t stop, not until someone made him stop.

And as the final strike was given to him, he met your eyes.

The wrath dissipated in them and filled with love.

He was desperate to comfort you, to tell you it would be okay.

But soon the love left his eyes and faded to emptiness and you felt your heart shatter.

*

Asmo was a weeping mess. 

You wouldn’t think that the Avatar of Lust knew how to love.

He was charming and manipulative when he wanted to be.

He went through beings like they were comments on his top Devilgram post without a second thought as to who he was casting aside.

He had countless notches in his bedposts and while others may have had some guilt about the number of people they slept with, he was eager for more.

He wanted to have a piece of everyone. To prove he was the most loved.

So, it was natural to think that Asmo was self-centered and unsympathetic.

It was natural to think that he didn’t have a heart and that he didn’t know how to say those three little words and actually mean them.

But underneath the facade he put on for others - underneath the mask he wore to hide his true feelings, Asmo had the biggest heart.

And that heart was now shattered into pieces.

He loved his brothers unconditionally.

It didn’t matter how many times Mammon stole from him. It didn’t matter how many times Satan destroyed part of the house in a fit of rage. Deep down, Asmo knew that he loved his brothers and he always would.

But, now they were gone.

Asmo was good at comforting others.

He knew how to pamper them and which essential oils were the most comforting. He even knew the softest brand of tissues to not damage your skin. But, comfort wasn't what was needed right now.

He needed to protect you and the twins. That’s what his older brothers would have wanted.

How was he supposed to do that though?

He hesitated.

The next thing Asmo knew was that he was on the ground in pain.

You were kneeling next to him and Asmo couldn’t help but think that if you were the last thing he saw, he could die happy. 

You gently brushed his hair out of his eyes as one of your tears fell onto his cheek.

Asmo reached up to wipe your tears away and it only caused a new wave of them. 

He could feel himself slipping away, and he was scared. Scared that he would never see you again.

“There’ll be a next time, right?” Asmo asked, his eyes full of hope. 

You nodded your head and told him, “I promise.”

He had the faintest hint of a smile on his lips as he passed.

*

Beel was beside himself with sorrow.

He couldn’t believe this was happening again.

He had taken it so hard when he lost Lilith.

The guilt and sadness of losing his little sister nearly broke him.

And that was after losing one of his siblings.

He just lost five of them.

Beel had snapped and went on a rampage.

He felt like a bull seeking out a red cape, but instead of a cape, he was seeing red everywhere. He wanted to charge at anything and everything that moved.

He had been a great warrior up in the Celestial Realm. He knew how to fight. So, how did this happen? What had he done wrong?

He had gone on many rampages for hunger, but it was nothing like the rampage he went on for agony.

You and Belphie had tried to stop him from barreling forward, but he was too far gone and too strong for the two of you to hold him back.

In his head, he was protecting you and Belphie.

He believed he was clearing a path for the two of you. That if he could hold the attackers off, then you and Belphie could escape.

But, in reality, he was only killing himself.

Belphie felt like he had been ripped in half as he watched his twin get struck.

He wanted to run to help him, but there was nothing he could have done.

You held Belphie’s hand, trying to pull him away from the scene, but he wouldn’t budge.

Time felt like it had stopped moving.

Beel’s eyes filled with so much love and sadness as he looked at the two of you.

There was nothing more he could do but pray that the two of you would find a way to make it out.

That the two of you would find a way to be okay. 

*

Belphie was absolutely devastated as he felt his entire world crashing down.

You were doing everything you could to pull him out of the way - to safety. But, he was fighting back. He wanted to be with his brothers.

“Belphie,” we have to move, you pleaded with him. 

He looked into his twin's eyes, the usual life they held completely drained out of them.

He continued to scan the area, his eyes landing on each one of his dead brothers.

The only reason he had coped with Lilith’s death was because he had his brothers to lean on - to comfort him. But, now, there was no one.

He lost everything.

“Belphie!” you begged, trying once again to pull him up.

No, he hadn’t lost everything.

He still had you. The perfect human who cared so much about him and his family.

He had made you a promise that he would survive for you. He made a promise not to die.

He had to keep his promise. He wanted to keep that promise. He needed to move.

He finally convinced his body to go with you despite the protest his emotions were giving him.

But, as he finally stood up, he realized that the brief delay he had was a mistake. He was too late. 

He barely managed to get to his feet when he was struck down just like his brothers, knocking him right back down. 

Your hands were immediately on him, trying to stop the bleeding as you asked him over and over again not to leave you too.

He knew the situation was unfair to you. He knew that you didn’t deserve this pain.

But, he was okay with it. After all, he was the Avatar of Sloth and he was simply going to sleep.

More than that, he was going to see his brothers again. He would make sure of it - even if it was only his dreams.

“Wake me up when it’s over,” Belphie told you with a small smirk, the same teasing glint in his eyes that was always there. 

He tried to remain brave, but there was a hidden message behind his words.

He was silently praying that you would tell him you would wake him up again.

That you would find a way to restart the timeline again. That this wasn’t the end to your contradictorily long and short-lived story.

*

Solomon had been hopelessly firing off magic attack after magic attack.

He was trying so desperately to control the damage - to stop the carnage from continuing to happen. 

He had felt the searing pain of when his pact broke with Asmo’s death. He wanted to mourn the demon. To mourn all of them.

But there was no time. If he stopped for a brief moment to let his emotions overtake him, he knew that he would be the next to go.

The brothers were gone which meant that it was his responsibility to get you out of this mess. His adorable apprentice.

If he could make sure you survived - if he could survive - then he would be there to help you next time.

He may not have been able to keep his promise of keeping everyone alive this time.

But, if he could find a way to get the two of you out here, he would find a way to make everything right. 

He would find a way to prevent all of this from happening again. He wouldn’t stop until he did. He would make that new promise to you.

But those hopes and dreams of his were lost when he suddenly found himself being met with the same fate as the seven rulers of the Devildom.

You told him that he had died prior to these events taking place, but he still couldn’t help but want to laugh.

The idea of him dying after doing everything in his power to become immortal was funny to him.

And even though you had told him about the inevitable, he never would have believed it would have actually happened.

You held Solomon's hand as you watched his once mysterious blue eyes begin to dull.

There was nothing Solomon wanted more than to get back up and keep fighting; but, even he had limitations.

He couldn’t leave you completely lost again though. He refused to.

So, he pulled out a charm and chanted a spell over it, enchanting it with all of the memories that he had of you and the others. 

All you had to do next time was give it to him and he would remember.

He wouldn’t let you be alone in this world.

He would make sure you never felt this pain again.

*

Simeon was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

He was trying to figure out how you all ended up here. How they all ended up dead.

Solomon had become a good friend of his since living together in Purgatory Hall.

He had grown to love the sorcerer’s antics and had fun chasing him out of the kitchen.

And the brothers - well, they were once his brothers as well. Before they fell.

And despite them being demons now, Simeon still felt like he was losing his family when he witnessed their deaths.

But the one that completely shattered him and brought him to his knees was Luke’s death.

The sweet, little, innocent angel had followed you all into battle. He did everything Simeon asked.

He stayed on the sidelines, watching idly by as the others went down one by one.

He wanted to help. But what could he do? He was still just a fledgling. 

He had reached out to grab Beel’s hand - to try and save him from his own demise.

That’s when Luke had been struck down as well. 

Simeon immediately pulled Luke into his embrace, cradling the young angel as sadness overwhelmed his features. 

Luke’s kind and innocent eyes turned to ones of confusion and fear. Was he going to die before he had a chance to really live?

He had many years alive, but it was nothing in comparison to how long an angel was supposed to live.

Simeon clutched the young angel tightly as his life dwindled until there was nothing left. The darkness claiming Luke’s grace.

He unashamedly shed tears over his body, letting his emotions take over.

But, then he heard you.

Simeon’s eyes immediately snapped up to you, blinking through his tears as he got a grasp on his thoughts again.

You were kind and innocent, just like Luke. And he would protect you.

You were once again running, trying to avoid the relentless attacks that were targeting you.

You were reaching a dead end, and there was nowhere else to go.

You were finally going to suffer the same ending that you had witnessed everyone else suffer.

You turned your back to your attackers, waiting for the onslaught of pain that accompanied death, but instead, you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around you.

You dared yourself to open your eyes and saw Simeon standing behind you, his arms holding you close to him as his wings shielded you from getting hurt. 

He took the barrage of strikes until they were done, holding out until the last second.

As the assault finally stopped, Simeon fell to the ground, his body giving out to the pain that he was suffering.

“Simeon,” you tried to say, but he gave you a smile that shushed all of your worries.

“We’ll see each other again,” he promised you.

*

Raphael had shown up late to the party. Too late.

By the time he had heard word of what was happening and arrived, he had lost everyone he went down there to protect.

He tried to ignore the pang in his heart as he saw the corpses of Simeon and Luke. The kind and caring angels who always tried to be perfect role models.

He didn’t want to feel the sorrow that sparked inside of him as he saw his former brothers’ bodies as well. Their vivacious features replaced with cold ones. 

He was angry. Their assailants needed to be punished, and he would make sure that he did the punishing properly.

He rained down a myriad of spears, taking out as many of them as possible. 

He managed to take out a large number. He was one of the highest-ranking angels, after all.

But, even he found himself unable to escape from death.

And as he was struck down with the same weapon that he was so fond of sporting, he couldn’t help but wonder if things would have turned out differently if he arrived sooner.

*

The royals were all that was left of the large group you cared so much about. 

With the way the number of enemies had dwindled, those who were still alive believed that they might stand a chance.

But you knew better than to hope for the best.

Everyone else had put up a valiant fight, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

Mephisto was the first among the three nobles to fall.

His family had a long tradition of swearing to serve and protect the royal family. And he refused to disregard that promise. 

He would ensure that he fulfilled that pledge down to the smallest meaning of it.

He fought off as many attacks as he could until they became too much to bear.

That’s when he used his own body as a shield to protect the Prince of the Devildom.

Mephisto knew that it meant he would suffer a quick and painful death just like the others had.

But, if he died carrying out the oath that his lineage lived by, he was okay with it. He would die a hero in their eyes.

Barbatos was the next to go, his devotion to Diavolo just as strong as Mephisto’s.

Barbatos had taken a pledge of loyalty to the future King.

And his responsibilities went much further than simply pouring his tea or fixing his meals. 

Barbatos was smart - he knew that putting up a fight wouldn’t save either you or the young lord.

But, he would be damned if he went out without trying.

He wished he had looked into the future when he had the chance to. Back when he first found out about you and the situation you were in.

He only used his abilities when Lord Diavolo expressly asked him to.

But, if he had done it for himself, just this once, he would have been able to stop this from happening.

He would have prevented the tragedy and sorrow that occurred today.

He would have prevented you from the pain of having everyone forget about you once again.

He had never failed to meet someone’s expectations before. He had never failed to exceed someone’s expectations.

But as he lay on the painfully hard ground, struggling to take his last breaths, he understood that he had failed to meet yours.

He failed to meet Diavolo’s.

He failed to meet everyone’s.

He took a deep breath and one final thought escaped from his lips as he whispered, “Please forgive me.”

*

It was only you and Diavolo now. 

And he was holding you close to him, not allowing any sense of danger to come close to you. 

He had lost everything. He had lost everyone. 

The former angel who he considered his best friend. The brothers who he had grown so close to. His kind and helpful angel exchange students. The only human who he had known for centuries. The angel who helped convince Michael to approve of his idea. His faithful courtier. And, his loyal butler.

They were all gone - reduced to corpses as if they weren’t some of the most powerful beings in all three realms.

And yet, here you were, arguably seen as the weakest amongst the group and yet you had managed to survive.

Diavolo would ensure that you continued to do so. He refused to lose you too.

He fought his way through the remaining enemies fearlessly. They were brutally wounding him, but Diavolo pressed on.

His wounds were lethal, but he wouldn’t stop fighting until the last one dropped. Until you were finally safe. 

He would make sure that he stayed strong until the very end. Like any good ruler would do.

When Diavolo had finally taken care of the last enemy, he allowed himself to collapse into your arms. 

You had cried over each and every death. You weren’t even sure how you still had tears to produce at this point.

But they flowed abundantly nonetheless as you held the last of companions close to you.

It didn’t matter if you had seen them all die before. It still felt like someone was driving a knife through your heart every time. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this from happening,” Diavolo admitted as he looked into your grief-stricken eyes. 

You brushed a few stray scarlet locks out of his face before reassuring him, “You did everything you could.”

His breathing was getting more and more labored and you knew that it was only a matter of moments now before he was gone too.

He pushed through the pain to reach up and gently rested his hand against your cheek.

He wanted to take away all of your pain, but he knew that he was in no position to do so.

His hand was growing heavy - too heavy to keep it pressed against your cheek. And as it fell back to the ground, he spoke one final goodbye to you.

“May we meet again.”

*

As the life faded from Diavolo’s eyes, you finally let your walls crumble.

You let yourself feel every ounce of despair that was coursing through your veins as you let out loud sobs, unable to hold them in any longer.

You had done everything you could think of. You had tried every battle strategy. You had performed every incantation. You had planned for every situation. But no matter what you did, you always ended up here. You always ended up alone.

Why couldn’t you save them?

And as that question burned through your mind, you felt another presence standing beside you. 

Right, there was one person who hadn’t died.

But her presence was not welcome here because you knew she wasn’t there to be a friend. She was there to reap their souls.

“I’m sorry,” Thirteen stated quietly, the massacre taking even her by surprise.

She felt an unexpected wave of anguish hit her as she looked over the bodies of those she had come to know.

You looked up at her and you could see the sympathy in her eyes.

She was genuinely sad and she couldn’t help but want to console you in some way.

But that wasn’t her specialty and she didn’t know where to start.

“What happens now?” she asked you, knowing that you had been here before. You must have a plan, right?

Part of you wished that you could walk away from this situation.

You wished that you could turn your back and move on with your life.

That you could forget about them and evade the torment that you had been suffering for far too long.

You were tired of reliving the same pain over and over again.

You were tired of the agonizing farewells and the horrid images of their deaths that filled your dreams every night.

You had played the story too many times.

It was like a never-ending book or a movie that should have ended an hour ago.

You just wanted to escape.

But you loved them too much.

You would never be able to say goodbye for a final time.

Not when there was something you could do about it. 

Life wasn’t worth living without them, even if it meant living the same life over and over again.

You couldn’t leave them.

They needed you; and, you needed them.

“Now, I try again,” you answered the reaper, standing up. 

She didn’t dare move as she watched your motions.

She couldn’t even begin to comprehend the emotional, mental, and physical pain you were experiencing right now.

But you were putting everyone else before yourself, just like you always did.

You were using them to fuel your motivation to keep fighting. 

And as you restarted the timeline once again, Thirteen understood just how deeply your feelings for everyone ran. 

*

Everything was dark. Something that you had come to find peace in.

Your initial thought would be to believe that you were in a dark room. But, you knew that wasn't true.

Your eyes were closed. And you wanted to keep them closed for longer.

Because you knew what would happen when you opened them.

You knew the joy and laughter that you would experience. And you knew the pain and sorrow that you would experience too.

It all started with you waking up.

And as much as you wanted to pretend like you were still asleep, you knew this moment was unavoidable.

That it was only a matter of time before they would see that you were feigning your slumber.

So, with a shaky breath, you opened your eyes, waiting to hear those words that you had come to dread.

“Welcome to the Devildom, Y/N.”

[tokoyamisstuff]

Sursum Corda

Lt. "Lift your hearts/souls", a call to worship before prayer

18+ | 4k. words | Alexander Anderson x f! Reader | explicit | angst | hurt/comfort | mentions of disfigurement | slight bondage, choking and tentacle stuff | not proofread

A/N: Glad to hear there's more people wanting to fuck the biblically accurate rosebush! Also you know me, no smut without eons of buildup.

If that's not your cup of tea don't read it, I'm not responsible for your media consumption. English is not my first language.

Anderson has been haunted by god all his life, way before he had become this...thing.

It was all he ever wanted, wasn't it? To become a vessel, an unfeeling tool to implement God's will on earth, the personification of his wrath against all evil that defies him.

Only briefly his wish was granted and his consciousness fell silent in the bliss of this all-consuming holy duty. Finally, the personal hell that was his own mind came to a halt and was replaced by something far beyond his wildest imagination.

All the worse was his fall from grace when that very same God had forsaken him after he failed to accomplish his mission. At least on the outside Millenium's scheme successfully erased Alucard from existence, so the Judas Priest was granted control over himself once again as well.

Only now he was changed, evermore.

What returned from the battlefield was merely a shadow of his former self, the remnants of his possession leaving him more forlorn than ever before.

A 'Monster of God' is still a monster nonetheless, especially after it's Lord has abandoned his creation.

And beings like he called one himself now were akin to animals in their instincts, if not worse. Their nature driven not by necessity, but a selfish urge to consume in order to ease their yearning for death, to regain a fraction of the humanity they once lost.

This past, this reality felt an eternity away now, even though not a whole day had gone by.

Before he knew it, in his exasperation Anderson had taken what he had rightfully denied himself all those years.

But he simply cannot stay away no longer. Not if you're the only thing in his life that still made sense.

The 'old' Anderson was by far not an innocent man either, but while that version of him may have been strong enough to resist, the broken abomination he had reduced himself to was driven by a completely different obsession.

It could only be described as a horror scenario how the former protector of the orphanage invaded these holy grounds himself. Yet though he could never bring harm upon any of them, at that moment he also held no regards for the mental scars he would leave them with after bearing witness to the consequences of his actions:

Thorned vines were sprouting everywhere from his body, to the point that it was hauntingly indistinct where they ended and he began. Half of his face was missing, now replaced by a barely recognizeable, inhumane mockery of the man you once knew.

All you remember was the panicked screams of church members in face of an unidentified threat, all of you trying to guide the children to safety when suddenly your eyes locked with all too familiar ones - but they held a gleam to them as if something in him was set ablaze.

Initially thinking he was turned and lost himself in a bloodrage, you screamed his name, tried to reason with the children's sake for him to stop this madness, but he was so insanely fast that you couldn't even react before you were enveloped in what appeared to be vines and dragged away.

Next thing you knew was that you woke up in his arms instead, safe and sound at least for now.

You had a vague idea where you were, he once told you about this small hut in the Scottish outskirts. Nothing fancy really, just a tiny log cabin far away from any civilization. An inheritance after his parents early passing, the only thing he got that connects him to the people he never really got to know. Their untimely deaths marked the beginning of his sheer neverending ordeal.

Anderson hasn't spoken a single word ever since he snatched you away, in fact the only sounds leaving his throat are what one could only describe as the wailing of a rogue beast. His massive shoulders were whacking with every sob as he desperately clung to your much smaller form, like a child would hold a stuffed toy for comfort.

All of this felt like a neverending nightmare and yet he fears if he ever wakes up, you'd disappear as well.

Because there's no surviving you. Losing you too would end what's left of him.

He's lying on the mattress besides you, pressing your back flush against his chest with frightening vigor yet also the utmost gentleness as if afraid to hurt you with this frightening strenght. Nothing goes past his heightened senses, from your breathing pattern over your erratic heartbeat and up to the way your muscles contract with every small movement.

You were calm, too calm for someone in your predicament and even if he wasn't currently breaking down right next to you, he wouldn't be able to make sense of why that is.

Especially because he perceived other sensations along with that, appealingly silencing his voice of reason. Like the feel of your tender flesh, pliant under his palm or that intoxicating scent of yours hanging in the air, pheromones so intense as if your body was calling out for him.

It made him sick with want.

How utterly unworthy he is of your presence, and yet he had grown addicted to it without any of your intervention.

He is no better than the demons he had sworn to cleanse the world of, and now feeling their allconsuming hunger as his own is frightening even to himself.

Since it wasn't a hunger that could be satiated by feeding, no. It was something far more possessive and depraved.

A man like him wasn't allowed to love in any way else than pure, and yet here he was, his judgement threatened to be overthrown by desire.

He hates what you do to him, and he especially hates what he wants to do to you.

You started to shift with the intent to face him, but were once again met with dark green tendrils, meandering their way around your body and effectively keeping you in place. They surprisingly didn't hurt, were freed of any thorns as they wrapped themselves securely to your skin.

"Don't-" His booming, distorted voice was laced with undeniable agony and shame. "Don't look at me...please..."

"Anderson..." It felt like this name wasn't his own anymore, and yet hearing it again shook a violent tremor through his body. "You're alive...I thought you were-" You let out a strangled yet relieved whimmer, having tormented yourself ever since he left for the war in London. "I was worried sick...I'm so glad...I- please, I need to see you."

Out of everything he was bracing himself for, it was those particular words that rendered him speechless. He had expected fear, revulsion, anger. For you to scream and shout and cry, lash out or resist. To admonish him for what he's done, beg him to let you go or at least not to hurt you. Anything but this.

There was not an ounce of hatred in your tone - the opposite was the case.

Your soul truly is a mystery he'll never unfold.

If anything, your deeds only elevate your further in his mind, envisions you to what comes closest to an angel for a wretch like him.

Anderson gazes away as he allows you to turn around, unable to look at you as if the brightness of your being was like staring directly into the sun.

"Dear God...what happened?!" He weakly shook his head in defeat, a silent plea to not inquire any further for now. He was not ready to tell you this long, painful story just yet and he knew you'd be understanding. You always were for this reckless fool that he was before. "It's insignificant. All that matters is that you're alright." He was far from that, honestly.

You cupped his cheeks, fingers entangling in the vines stemming from his left side. Anderson was astonished with how boldly you touched them, not a sign of hesistance or disgust in the way you cradled his head in your hands. He seemed visibly torn to just dwell in this balmy feel, fall on his knees and beg for forgiveness, or telling you to run for it and never look back.

"Is it really you?" you ask meekly and without forethought, the stubble of his beard prickling your palm. His skin was greyish-pale, eyes glowing unnaturally, and the half of his mouth that was missing was equipped with razor sharp canines. He looks more like a reanimated corpse than anything, but you wouldn't say this aloud.

And yet you couldn't feel happier, couldn't feel more safe than in his embrace.

"...God has accursed me."

"No, he hasn't." You say firmly, pulling him down to lean his forehead against yours and he'd close his eyes in a pathetic attempt not to cry. "God has sent you back to me in his infinite wisdom and benevolence, and I will forever be grateful for this."

That's not right he thinks quietly, God doesn't reward sinners.

After all, he has failed you and everyone he's vowed to protect due to his own shortcomings. Hell, he abducted you, trapped you here with no way of escaping, and he knew even if you tried he wouldn't- couldn't let you leave.

Because in his religious fervor he became the very thing he seeked to destroy.

"I love you." It's the first time he's confessed this to anyone besides God. "You don't have to love me back. You don't have to be mine. Just...let me be yours.”

Anderson is aware that this is terribly wrong. He was fighting against his inner demons, against this torturous desire for so long already - but now that everything and everyone he ever believed in has literally turned into ashes, you were all that he had left.

You could faintly hear the violent drum of his heart, this behemoth behaving more like a child that's about to be chided. Upset, his tendrils coil even tighter around your middle, making it quite uncomfortable to breathe. He didn't want to scare you, hell, let alone force you - he was just genuinely terrified of your answer.

Whatever comes next was up to you, and he'd gladly accept it. You could either absolve him or throw him into the deepest pits of hell.

In the end, you decided to let your actions convey words you weren't able to form.

Your lips brushed against his, soft and featherlight, like the wings of a butterfly that had just settled on a venus flytrap. He gasped at the sensation, your breaths mingling as you refused to let go.

It took everything inside of him to not pounce on you right this instant, to not ruin this moment and give in to the dark desire that only kept growing at the display of your mutual affection.

Your love is both salvation and damnation, and he wasn't sure yet whether he could trust himself handling such an incredible gift.

Upon feeling you deepening the kiss, your tongue demanding entrance, Anderson manages to tear himself away from you - and it felt like removing a bandaid from a wound that hasn't nearly healed. You let out a protesting noise, your hand on the back of his neck pulling him closer again, but he wouldn't cave and instead softly grabbed your shoulders.

"Stop." His demand was stern, but you could see the tempest brewing beneath. You glance up at him, confused but ever so trusting, and he can't help but place a chaste kiss into your hair. "You shouldn't- you don't have to do this."

You furrow your brows, an adorable little pout curling your lips that almost cracks a smile out of him despite the circumstance. "I know. But I want to."

"Really, dear, just having you here with me is more than I could ever ask for" he insisted, secretly apprehensive that you might only play along to appease the monstrous lunatic that held you hostage. He was obviously instable and could tear you apart with ease, so of course you would be scared and willing to do or say anything to save yourself.

...that was until he set eyes upon that radiating smile of yours.

He had seen it so many times before, and he could never get enough: When you were at a particulary intriguing part of a book you were reading, when you were admiring the flowers blossoming in the courtyard, when you were playing with the orphans or tended to animals you'd occasionally bring in to nurse them back to health.

Not to mention how often you gifted him that smile in the past, and it never failed to make him long to be the only one to receive it, the only one to be able to make you happy like that.

This one was so bright, so sincere, it made him temporarily forget about his pitiful existence and all doubts that came along with it.

"That's by far not the first grave mistake you made" you chuckle softly, intertwining your fingers with his. "We'll figure it out like we always do. And even if we don't I'll be there for you. I promise."

Indeed, over the years you were one of, if not the only constant in his life, aiding him through all kinds of hardships as best as you could.

Back then he never bothered himself whether you reciprocated his feelings or not, since he never intended to act upon them either way. If anything he loathed himself for these thoughts, for mentally degrading you to anything less than the precious, graceful creature you are.

Yes, he needs to pull himself together. He should never defile you like this....not before, and certainly not as he is now.

"Alex..." you chant the endearing nickname with such an alluring voice, his vines started to act subconsciously. Against his self-restraint, they slither under your shirt and up your neck, and you giggle at the tickling as one played with the shell of your ear. You peck a loving kiss on one of the tendrils, your acceptance of his state only causing him to involuntarily pull you even closer this time.

The beast inside of him is gnawing and clawing, demands to take what you offer to fill this all-consuming emptiness.

"I love you too, Alexander Anderson. For a long, long time already...I belong to you, body and soul. Whatever you need, whatever you want, let me help you with it like I always have."

Your confession was the last drop that caused his heart and mind to overflow.

If this is what it takes to feel human again, then so be it.

In an instant Anderson's vines wrap around your wrists and ankles, effectively pinning you down on your back. They eagerly tether under your clothes, around the swell of your hips, the dip of your waist before tearing the fabric apart with one swift movement.

He kneels in front of your body, his large elongated shadow falling on your bare form. You shiver as the cold air hits your skin, moreso after seeing Anderson's intense gaze raking up and down your body. His chest is having with every breath, as if to desperately trying to hold back whatever urges his twisted mind cojured.

"It's alright...I would never hurt you...you're fine...I mustn't hurt you...I won't hurt you..." He repeats those words like a mantra, as if to reassure himself rather than you. Still, several tendrils trace the path of your jugular vein, up to the pulse point on your neck, lingering there tentatively before feebly wrapping around it.

You let out a sensual sigh as his vines keep caressing every inch of your body, lust-filled eyes invitingly blinking up to him. "I know...I-ah! I trust you, Anderson...with every fibre of my being..."

He almost whines at that, at the fact that your words all too effortlessly mend his scattered parts back together.

The long, warm appendages wrap around your calves, dividing your legs apart and presenting your dripping core to his sight. You whimper as one thicker trunk flicked up and down your folds, another one tightening around your mid to keep you in place.

"Heavens, you're divine..." Anderson is shaking in a mixture of anticipation and curiosity, the newfound usage of his powers both blessing and curse. It's monstrous, abnormal, and yet the only way to bring enough distance between you and him to not lose himself in the heat of the moment.

"If you get scared...if you don't like it...you will tell me" he rasps as several vines align with your entrance, his voice betraying his near obsession with the abstract of your body. "Immediately. Promise me."

You look at him through half-lidded eyes, still ever so trusting, the gravity of your voice matching his. "I promise."

As soon as those words left your lips one, two and then more of his vines work themselves inside of you. Others busy themselves encircling and kneading your breasts, teasing the sensitive flesh of your nipples into harness.

Your head falls back in ecstasy, unable to move to adjust the foreign sensation as you faintly hear Anderson growling about worshipping you the way you deserve.

His mouth is slightly agape, mesmerized as he observed you squirm around the restrictions, seeing how you still eagerly try moving your hips towards the cause of your pleasure.

The appendages, now slick with your ambrosia, move in and out as they fill the room with lewd noise, makes your mind and body submit to the overwhelming arousal. One of them curls inside you just right, grazing over a web of tissue that sends weakness trailing up your spine, across your hips and down your legs, making your toes curl.

The vines being an extension of himself makes the sensation of them touching you blend into a mosaic of pain and pleasure, sweet torture being so close to you and yet too far away.

Feeling your walls clench around them makes him throb helplessly, the damp spot at the front of his cassock proof of his desparation.

He alomost comes undone at the sheer sight of you, tits bouncing and a bulge poking below your tummy with every thrust.

"Look at you...so malleable, taking it all so well..." he emphasizes every word with a thrust of his, "This must be what Adam had felt when he first set eyes upon Eve - having a part of his heart besides him, each one half of a united whole."

Having mercy with you his gloved hand finds your clit, tending to the bundle of nerves and sending you over the edge in mere moments. You feel a tide of ecstasy wash over you, hips jolting with every wet, lewd thrust up into your core.

You whine as he jolts out of you all too sudden, still sensitive and nearly raw from the force of it, just for the vines to bully themselves into your mouth instead, letting you taste your own lust on your lips.

Anderson watches almost hypnotized as you lick them clean, the slight gloss of your eyes making him doubt his actions briefly, clearing the lust-induzed haze on his mind.

"Are you okay, love?" he murmurs darkly, yet no less mindful or concerned. You nod mutely, a content smile playing on your lips as you were still caught in the aftermath of your orgasm. "Good. Good. I'm not done yet. I still need you."

Finally, he leans over, his cheek faintly stroking yours as he closes the gap between you and even with all the preparation, it takes you a while to adjust to his size and girth. He went in slow, letting you feel the stretch of every inch, bit by bit till he reaches the hilt, and you let out a muffled whine at the fullness.

"Shh...I got you..." he whispers, stilling inside of you until you signalize him you're ready for him to start moving. He rolls his hips slowly, carefully, his hands finding purchase with your own as he keeps up the sensual pace. "I love you" he repeats solemny, leading one hand of yours to rest at the spot where the Helena's Nail was still deeply buried in his chest. "I spent too much of my life guarding my heart...and now I can't even tell you if there's still one inside of me anymore, but if there is...it's yours."

Tears spill over the rim of your eyes and down your cheeks, only to be wiped away by thorned vines. Almost poetic.

"I love you too!" you exclaim, throwing the words right back at him, unable to form any more coherent sentences as your mind went blank for a second time.

Both of you entangle with the other, unwilling to ever let go, and even after your second climax Anderson seems to be determined to pull out more from you.

His vines pull you onto his lap now, lifting and bouncing you onto his cock while your name drops from his lips like a profession of faith. Its too much, the feeling of being filled and enveloped at once until all you can feel is him.

"A-Anderson, I can't-" your voice is rising and cracking sharply as another peak builds up inside of you. "I'm right behind you, love. Let yourself fall, I'll catch you."

His lips crush over yours again, drinking in your moans as if he needs you more than the blood in his veins.

For a moment your vision went blank and you almost grew limp from exhaustion, but even after the vines retreated you were caught in Anderson's embrace. Leaving kisses in his wake, he notices all the small cuts and bruises his vines nearly seared on you as they explored you earlier.

Anderson clings to you like you're his lifeline, his voice gravely concerned as he massages the marking loveletter he unintentionally wrote on your skin in his possessive fenzy. "I'm sorry...im so sorry...I should've controlled myself better..."

Wanting to give you space he rolls to lie on his back, but you snuggle onto him, pillowing your head on his shoulder and draping an arm over his stomach like he was a massive teddy bear.

"Ive never been better, really. That was...I don't even know how to begin describing it...I would've never dared dreaming of ever being this close to you." you gently, dreamily affirm him, absentmindedly letting a hand run over the vines on his chest. "Thank you for coming back to me, Alex."

A slow hum of bliss vibrates in his chest as he lets your words seep into his soul, his arm securely tucking around your waist. "I’m scared to death that I’ll let you down again, but I won’t run from myself this time."

"I believe in you. You are a good person and you deserve to be happy, Anderson. You just need to allow yourself to be." There is a dash of hopefulness in the way his face relaxes as he listens. "Say, I had a bag on me when you...you know, took me. Where is it?"

Anderson's brow furrowed but he wouldn't question your demand, his vines stretching across the room to bring you the small bagpack you always carried everywhere. He watches intently as you rummage inside of it, laughing internally as you happily pluck out a small case. "You still carry this with you?"

"Always!" you cheer, opening it to reveal an exact replica of his glasses. "No wonder with how often you break them."

Finally, he found himself able to mirror your smile. It's more of a snarl than anything, however it doesn't fail to convey the depht of his affection and gratitude.

Anderson closes his eyes, tilting his head downwards in reverence as you set the glasses on his nose - a symbol that no matter how he had changed, deep down he was still the same man, no matter what.

"Welcome back, Alexander."

[knaveumineko]

Umineko Episode 2 Blog: Fool's Gold

Despite its similar setup, Episode 2 diverges wildly from Episode 1 in how frequently and explicitly it depicts the use of magic to the point where its existence seems almost undeniable. Of course, the story is only able to do this because it spent so long teaching us to question all that we see.

The biggest curveball the story is throwing at us is the appearance of Beatrice in the flesh. After spending a whole episode hiding, she's now showing up on screen every 5 minutes in her sick new outfit just to mock me for doubting her.

Since the first Tea Party, it's been interesting to observe how Umineko blurs the line between the main murder mystery subplot and its meta B-plot where Beatrice and Battler flirt at each other in-between arguments about keys. Episode 2 Battler and Meta-Battler are sort of the same person but also sort of not: it's not like Battler is discovering his parents' bodies and thinking "oh my god, Beatrice is going to be so smug about this" but at the same time his emotional breakdown at having to accuse his own family is framed as equivalent to Meta-Battler resigning the game, and after becoming furniture he bursts back in to demand a rematch as if he's been Meta-Battler the whole time. He also has that whole "it's not my turn" thing while napping. I don't think of this as a puzzle, really: the two narratives are seperate but related, each commenting on the other, and the boundaries between them blur at times so that we can have a satisfying emotional payoff to both parts of the story.

As a consequence, we do not have to accept Beatrice as "real" simply because she appears in the meta plot. Taking this perspective also lets us explain the banquet at the end of the episode without having to doubt Battler's narration in general. Of course, he was also drunk when all the magic stuff was happening, but I think it's a bit too convenient to say that he somehow had a one in a million reaction to the alcohol and hallucinated these scenes in particular, although if he did do all that stuff while drunk out of his mind then I can see why Rosa was in such a hurry to flee the island.

Beatrice's early appearances are as a character in Shannon and Kanon's (and Sayo's) psychodrama. She appears out of nowhere only to them. She's the serpent offering the fruit of knowledge and granting them the opportunity to escape their roles as furniture at some vague cost. She later says that she's just doing this because it will be funny to watch them fail, but I think this reflects Sayo's complicated feelings about whatever decision she's made. Framing it as a malicious plan by Beatrice is just drama for the sake of the witch story.

After the fact, Shannon clearly sees herself as responsible for the killings, and I'm guessing there's more to it than the mirror thing. I was very suspicious of Kanon and Shannon going into chapter 2, and dedicating so much time to their characters only reinforces that. Throughout the story so far, the biggest problem has been motivation. Even if I manage to guess who's a culprit or accomplice, it's hard to untangle why they're doing any of it. Somebody solving the epitaph and figuring out where the gold is, then telling everyone else to try and find it too, but also slowly killing them to stop them from actually doing it?

I wonder if Shannon meeting Beatrice for the first time while standing at her portrait is meant to tell us that she solved the epitaph. It would seem she's in a fine position to do so, visiting every day and being familiar with the person who wrote it. We have that little exchange where Beatrice says that furniture is resistant to her because they lack desire, and Shannon's character in episode 2 revolves around a contradiction between her identities: she's caught between joy at her miracle and horror at what she had to do to achieve it, and she accepts the proposal even though doing so will get her killed. Is there something about understanding the epitaph that forces the killings to occur? Solving it is an expression of desire, contradicting her role as furniture, and it also brings with it immense power and wealth, allowing her to escape her situation in life, but it also brings ruin in the form of the sacrifices? I don't know precisely how that could be the case (some dark family secret?) but it fits the story being told on an emotional level, and we know that the epitaph was indeed solved. It also provides some coherent motivation for why someone would try to get others to solve it after already working it out themselves.

Something that really stuck out to me while reading was Beatrice's dialogue in Shannon's death scene.

In general, I'm not a fan of how Umineko likes to throw grammar and punctuation out of the window in emotionally intense scenes. I understand it's supposed to feel raw and unfiltered, but it unfortunately just strikes me as amateurish and undercuts the seriousness of the scene. Still, this is extreme even by Umineko standards. Her dialogue is almost incoherent as her screed continues, to the point where I, continuing in my denial of the Witch's existence, wondered if what I was really reading here was Sayo having a breakdown as she realises that her wish has gotten her and George killed.

Beatrice is not just confined to Sayo's mind, however. She appears in the flesh, albeit only once, or maybe twice depending on how literally you want to take Kinzo's study. While some of these witnesses aren't reliable (Kanon and Shannon's conversations are easy to write off as allegory, and Genji would 100% lie about the meeting) we still can't deny Kyrie, Rosa and Maria seeing her, although it's interesting that Kyrie has her doubts, even in the chapel scene where she accepts the existence of the witch.

I think here we see the payoff to the alter ego theme: there are still 18 people on Rokkenjima, and Beatrice's one and only appearance before vanishing is because she's being impersonated. After all, in chess, even if you vary which opening you play, the pieces on the board when the game begins are always the same ones. If I want to remain consistent with my other guesses, Shannon seems like the obvious candidate. It would explain why Genji gives her the duty of bringing Beatrice food: if anyone else went then they would question why the room is empty. It also lines up with this Beatrice knowing everything that happened in the conversations that didn't really happen (I'm not really suggesting that Shannon is hallucinating or anything - I just think the conversations Sayo describes are metaphors for an internal struggle). Could the scene of all the parents in the chapel have been Sayo luring everyone there with the reveal of her solution to the epitaph, which she proved by showing them the gold bars? It would explain everyone accepting her as a witch. If she was less forthcoming, she also could have remained in-character as Beatrice that night and used the gold to verify her alchemy.

The biggest flaw here is everyone recognising her from the portrait. If I had to throw out an excuse here, I'd question who exactly modelled for that portrait. Surely, it would be a young woman who was already on-hand at the mansion? I suppose we'll see if they dive into the origins of that painting.

Kanon is also a pretty good candidate for the witch: he was already "Beatrice" in Episode 1, so it would make sense for him to be her in Episode 2 as well. His doppelganger also starts cackling like the witch, and while he is initially critical of Beatrice, he also clearly has some of the same repressed desires that Shannon does. His voice is high enough that him impersonating a woman isn't totally out of the question. Kanon being the witch mostly fits for the same reasons Shannon does, and it also gets around Shannon's pretty convincing corpse. I really doubt that one could be fake.

Beyond this, I think most of the locked room mysteries in Episode 2 aren't all that interesting. The main roadblock to solving them is really that Battler doesn't want to think about who the culprit is, so he doesn't bother with the easy out of the servants just lying.

I do have a pretty out-there theory about Kanon's doppelganger. I would compare Kanon's death in Episode 2 to the story I came up with in Episode 1 (my Fifth Twilight post): Kanon was originally in on the Demons' Roulette, but after a loved one of his gets killed he betrays his co-conspirators and attacks them. It is interesting that the bodies of Kumasawa and Nanjo are found in the courtyard, which is the same place that Kanon's killer fled to in Episode 1. I would suggest that a similar confrontation happened in this case, but the servants can't reveal how much they know, hence how vague they are on the details of murders that they personally witnessed.

Of course, this is complete nonsense, because Kanon is dead. There's no body, but it was stated in red. Even at the very end of the story, Kanon's body is nowhere to be found. I already brought up that I think Red Truths could be misleading, even if they're technically true. In Kanon's final moments, he dies trying to speak his real name. This theory offers another payoff to the alter ego theme: Kanon died in the sense that he rejected his identity as Kanon and reclaimed his identity as a human being. Therefore he can be "dead" while still appearing later to kill Nanjo and Kumasawa, and potentially to impersonate Beatrice again in Kinzo's study.

That's pretty much all I have to say on the major mysteries and the presence of magic in the story. I even managed to avoid mentioning the hilarious lightsaber thing! There'll probably be one more post to wrap up Episode 2, unless I decide to skip it and go on to 3 immediately. You'll find out pretty soon, either way.

[maidragoste]

Mistake

Age up!Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader (Daeron's twin sister)

Summary: Your encounter with Jacaerys has consequences and now you are pregnant with his bastard in the middle of the war.

Part two of “I miss you”

A/N: Honestly Jacaerys doesn't appear in this but I promise he will in the next part. The next part will probably be the last and I'll try not to take as long as it takes to post this one (I had most of these written months ago but every time I had to continue writing it made me sad for Reader). Finally, I hope you like it 🥰🥰💞💞

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

At first, you didn't find it strange when your moon blood didn't come. The truth has never been regular. It had happened to you before that it didn't come for a month and the other it did, that's why you didn't worry. But when another moon passed and your sheets were still clean, you began to fear that you were pregnant. Your fears were confirmed when you started having nausea and vomiting in the mornings. You didn't even have time to come up with a plan because your servants went to tell your mother about your condition and she soon appeared in your chambers with the maester.

"Princess, you are pregnant" the maestre confirmed what you already knew.

"Is there no chance of getting rid of the child?" Alicent asked, taking you by surprise.

"Mother!" you screamed in horror and with tears in your eyes. You knew your mother would be furious but it never occurred to you that she would force you to get rid of the baby.

"I'm afraid, your grace, that if we give her the moon tea there is a chance that the princess will not be able to have children in the future."

"Thank you, master. You may retire,” Alicent said and the man gave you a pitying look before leaving.

Once they were alone, you got on your knees and took your mother's hands "Sorry, mother" you apologized through tears, it hurt to see the disappointment on her face, she had never looked at you like that before "Sorry. Sorry, sorry ”you repeated trembling and kissed her hands. You expected some comfort, a caress on the cheek, or even a touch on the hair but nothing. She just kept looking at you. You would have always been the apple of her eye along with Helaena but now you were trouble.

You apologized for letting her down, and for failing her and your brother. You knew that you were an important piece in the war, you were a dragon rider and with your hand, they could win the support of some important house but now no one would marry you while you were pregnant nor could you go to fight in your condition. You apologized because you knew that if you could go back in time you would sleep with Jacaerys again, you were selfish, you loved him.

"Mother, please say something" you begged, unable to bear her silence anymore.

Alicent released her grip and moved away from you. You bit your lip to keep from letting out a sob. You weren't used to cold treatment from your mother. But for now, it would be the only thing you would receive. For a moment you thought about your father, how he would react if he were alive, he would probably be furious too but you thought that the moment he saw you cry he would take you in his arms and tell you that everything would be fine. He would surely have broken Baela and Jacaerys' engagement so that Jace would marry you.

"You will stay in your chambers until further notice" your mother informed you, taking you out of your imagination, and she left your chambers without bothering to look at you again.

Once you were alone you burst into tears and hugged yourself. You didn't know how long you had been crying, you felt that your throat was burning and your knees were starting to hurt so you should get up or the pain would be but you didn't care. You just wanted someone by your side, you didn't want to be alone, so when you heard the door open you couldn't help but look hopeful. They were your brothers. But you felt your heart drop at the sight of Aemond. In his eye, there was nothing but fury.

"He forced you? Did he force himself on you?" asked the prince taking you by the jaw. You shook your head while the tears came out non-stop from your eyes "Tell me!" you sobbed as he increased his strength.

"I slept with Jacaerys because I wanted to" you confessed between trembling and closing your eyes to avoid seeing your brother's face. You were scared, for the first time you had Aemond do something to you. He had never acted like this with you before, you always witnessed how another was the victim of his anger but this time you were the one who disappointed him.

"Aemond, let her go" you heard your older brother's voice "She's scared"

You felt like years passed until you felt Aemond loosen his grip on her "It's okay, sister" he kissed your forehead and stood up "The bastard will pay for bringing you this disgrace"

"Aemond, what will you do?" You asked scared and wanting to follow him but Aegon took you in his arms "Aemond!" you screamed with a broken voice when you saw him leave the room.

"Don't worry, sister" said the king while you cried and clung to him "Everything will be fine, I'm going to legitimize your son"

••••••

The following months were hell for you. You never left your room. Your family did not want anyone at court to know about your condition, much less for the news to reach the Blacks. So they kept you locked in your rooms, and the only company you had were the maids but they weren't great company because they barely entered your room just to feed you and also never spoke to you, they couldn't since none of them had a tongue. Your sanity hung by a thread, exactly on the maester's visits. He was the only person you could talk to, you knew that the old man felt sorry for you because sometimes he extended the visits just so that you could talk to someone. For a while Aegon had also come to visit you, he always consoled you and distracted you, he told you some story about his drunkenness or about some gossip that you had. It didn't matter how many times you asked him about what was happening with your family, the war and Jacaerys but he never answered you. You were afraid that your questions made him angry because one day he stopped showing up.

Sometimes you prayed that your baby would look like Jacaerys because you missed him so much and longed to see his eyes again. But other times you prayed to the gods that the baby would look like you, maybe if your child is born with your hair and Targaryen eyes then your family will forgive you and let you go. For that reason, you were anxious to give birth again but at the same time, you were afraid. You were afraid of doing this alone without Jacaerys, you were afraid that something would go wrong and you would never have had a chance to say goodbye to your lover. You were afraid of dying and leaving your child alone, you didn't know what your family would do with your baby, they could kill it and Jacaerys would never know that you two had a child.

Most nights you dreamed of Jacaerys and your son. You dreamed of an excited Jace choosing a dragon egg to put in front of her son's cradle. You dreamed of Jace singing to the baby to calm him down. You dreamed of him introducing Vermax to the baby. You dreamed of the first flight of the three together. You dreamed of Jace trying to teach his son how to say “kepa” and “muña” even though his High Valyrian is terrible. You wished more than anything that one of those dreams would come true one day. But after being locked up for months you didn't think it would ever happen. If you survive the birth, you would have to raise your child alone within the four walls of your chambers. That if your family allows you after all for them your baby is a mistake.

taglist: @pictureofcaroline @sidneyyyya @minaxcarter @targaryenmoony @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @lizlovecraft @natashaobo @krokietino @nyenye @savagemickey03 @missusnora @sabi127 @buckysmainhxe @impartinghades @papichulo120627 @bxdbxtxh15 @rebelliuna @fluffiy @lauufeysonnn @thanya-targaryen @nzygftoji @camy85 @misty-q @bellstwd @

[strangelittlestories]

A: It's because of the rent.

B: I'm sorry?

A: I can save you some time. I know how this goes. The answer is 'because of the rent'.

B: You know that's not how this works.

A: It could be.

B: It won't be. Causality is important here. So is temporal consistency. And honesty, for that matter. Just because you remember what the answer is *going to be* doesn't mean you can avoid showing your working.

A: [beat] Fine.

B: So...You know why you're here?

A: It's the rules.

B: You're a research magician working on Reality Theory. Your whole field is about giving physics the finger. [beat] Do you care about the rules?

A: I care about some rules.

B: So you choose the rules you like and ignore the ones you don't?

A: I follow the rules that serve their purpose.

B: So you're here because it's the rules. And you only go along with rules if they're functional. So what's the function of this rule?

A: Sophian astromancy carries an aggravated existential risk. Counselling represents one of the few known existential defences.

B: So who does it 'existentially defend'? From what?

A: It protects the Institution. Risks include: paradox wave collapse, retributive third law exceptions, cosmic entities Types A, B and me.

B: Don't you mean 'A, B and C'?

A: Without loss of generality ... same difference.

B: Why do you categorise yourself as *a* risk instead of being *at* risk?

A: If I go Type C..." "Let's just say Type C's have very few risk factors.

B: But would you still be you? The person you are today?

A: The person I am today *only* exists today. Say I became a Type C tomorrow ... you could still trace the path from yesterday, to today, to tomorrow. Temporal consistency.

B: A Type C, by definition, is *not* temporally consistent. And is not, by most definitions, a person.

A: Not a *human*.

B: It is not *a singular* person. It *is* not a *present tense* person. And, yes, also not human. Do you value humanity?

A: I value humans. [beat] Some of them, at least.

B: Do you value *being* a human? Your perspective. Your community. Your, I suppose, your finite-ness.

A: That's a hard question to answer.

B: Why's that?

A: I have- Well. [beat] There is much about myself that I think has value. I am knowledgeable. I am skilled. I excel at envisioning new possibilities. However, I have never excelled when at valuing *me* in my totality.

B: That sounds challenging. Especially when losing hold of yourself has such, well, *Type C* consequences.

A: You find other reasons to hold on.

B: Such as?

A: Fear.

B: Not love?

A: Love is the outer shell. But put enough psycho-aetheric pressure on the ego and the cracks show. If you struggle to value yourself, it is easier for the aether to convince you that those you love would be better off without you. [beat] When that shell flakes away, beneath it is fear.

B: Of?

A: Change. Pain. Endings. Being an inconvenience.

B: One of these things is not like the other.

A: Yet that is the one that has never failed me.

B: How so?

A: The aether can convince me that transformation is not so bad. That agony is not so bad. That the end of my singular human self is not so bad. But it cannot elide the fact that, should I become a monster, my flatmates would have to pay my share of the rent.

B: So that's your pitch? That's why the Institute is safe from its Research Lead going full cosmic horror? It's because of the rent.

A: Yes. I know it's not what I'm supposed to say. It's not what I'm supposed to hold on to. But it's what works. It's because of the rent.

B: Well, if it works, then it works...

[katocatmi]

𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗫

a/u: im overdosed of manhwas and this is based on pure whim. you may know me from other blogs, or not. tee heeeeeeeeeeee. i dont support the company btw, they can go suck my dick as stelle blows my back :3

summary: you, an omnipotent and supreme being that transcended beyond mere concepts, were utterly bored, having spent most of your existence overseeing multiple timelines. one day, you detected an anomaly in your realm, marking the beginning of an unheard comedy.

warning: basically timekeeper cookie but more fucked up. slaughter, mentioned death, insanity.

your earliest memories were the praises of people around you.

"such an amazing kid!"

"you are destinied for greatness!"

a quintessential example of geniuses, your hyperintelligence made it hard for you to enjoy things. you were perfect, as flawless as a human could be, you didn't need to prove anything, for people had already been on their knees at your mere presence.

it was so boring.

a thought occurred to you upon stumbling across a tragedy about two lovers, who were bereft of other's existence because they were stuck in different timelines.

for the first time, in your aimless and doomed to meet an end somewhere else mortal coil, you found something that exhilarated you. frankly, it wasn't an original idea, for generations of forebears had failed in attempts to look into the concept of time as a whole. your goal in this project, however, was not only to explore the untapped potential but also to open a new way to utilize it. at that moment, time was considered taboo, a flow of nature that mortals and alikes were forbidden to meddle with, thus the extreme backlash you were subjected to. you had never once cared for the crowd's opinions, they served to slow you down, so why should you listen to them when you had discovered a new toy to waste time on. your arduous journey led to the creation of the 'sonic embroider', the most powerful and controversial invention from mankind. it allowed the users to wield a small portion of time, not enough to control it, but enough to cause a ripple throughout the universe. some said this marked an unheard era, while others were prone to fear and distaste.

you weren't satisfied.

your belief in the item's full power had resulted in the many disappearances of volunteers, one by one, vanishing into thin air without any traces left.

well, one did return.

she, #14, was reported as the sole survivor of your merciless experiments. her mind was fractured, always mumbling incoherent words, and her tendencies to flinch at the smallest noises and vacant faces were annoying, to say the least.

after all, you were exasperated by humans' feelings in general.

her death didn't deter you, causing you to spiral farther into an abyss of insanity, one that you had never regretted, not even when your power, which was that of a being transcending beyond concepts, allowed you to turn back.

one day, you decided to ride on the 'sonic embroider' yourself. it was a much faster and more effective solution, but its consequences were to be warned.

the exposure to views of all ruined and refracted timelines, accompanied by the horror of constant dreadful loops, happened because an ambitious person dared to explore its endless cruelty was enough to wreck your mind. it brought irreversible havoc and chaos within your quiddity and you embraced it.

you welcomed the madness, for it helped dissolve any resemblance left of human nature inside you.

in the end, you remained the head of the organization, your personality had never changed, for there was no difference between the divinity and mortality. there was a thin line between a genius and a madman, and how you thrived off of it.

when they passed away, you took it your cue to reside in your realm, not before bringing forth more unnecessary entropies and messing with other timelines. the realization that you were now a sovereign of time itself didn't bother you, especially not when the waltz of discord and consternation, of divinity and mortality, mixed so well together, a symphony of your actions.

recently, you had been hanging out with a past version of yourself, a timeline where you were more caring and more lenient towards others. you took it upon yourself to convince 'her' to become a second you, as you were bored of observing without a 'friend' to gossip with. since upon 2¹³⁶ ²⁷⁹ ⁸⁴¹ − 1 timelines, there was only one you that succeeded in ascending to godhood, you chose to play an unpredictable gamble with yourself, turning off your ability to view the future for fun temporarily. you were glued to her since then and always bothered her with irrelevant ideas, not to you.

today though, you had to cut on your stay a bit. a time distortion was spotted in a nearby future, which was extremely rare. it indicated that this specific timeline had been kept clandestine from your keen eyes. as a typical bored god, you decided to give this time distortion a little push.

grass gasped underneath the footsteps of people, as the once cheerful ceremony now tainted with the ugly high-pitched screams. amid the chaos, was the one who caused it all, you, sitting on the golden embroider. a smile was plastered on your lips, like it had always been there. your one single eye swirled in a wicked excitement, revelling in the delicious desperation of residents. it wasn't the voices nor the blood that delighted you, but rather how they pushed each other back, willing to leave behind their loved ones to secure their lives. some begged, on their knees, foreheads clashed against the floor, for a salvation from you. with a mere flicker of fingers on their noses, you casually granted them the ability to wind back in time. your eye, the one that hadn't covered by the eye patch narrowed ever so slightly at their joy, giggling to yourself for your knowledge of their future.

you felt quite tired of having to do it by yourself. hadn't it been for that precise requirement, you would have 'borrowed' a mechanical armor from a fallen empire. wiping clean your trustworthy weapon, you rode away into a hole. it was an entrance to a time pocket, which you usually randomized. a comfortable place, except for those who were sick of the constant ticks from the clocks, or the hypnotizing movements of swirls. with a loud bang, an anomaly crashed onto where you usually sat, the sonic embroider.

"hello there!" you cooed, speeding up its disorientation. gloved hands gently wrapped around the small creature, as your smile widened ever so slightly.

"look like you are going to be stuck with me!" you exclaimed, examining its cog-like appearance.

[stargirl-writes]

[chapter one] the secret history of anakin skywalker

captured

pairing : assassin! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 1.8k

next

series navigation | masterlist

sypnosis

you have only known one truth about this war, the republic and the seperatists are two sides of the same coin. but now, your master count dooku has disposed of you after your consequent failures. his betrayal fueled your thirst for revenge. and in the cruel twist of fate, you have found yourself with an arrangement with the enemy. general anakin skywalker is willing to do what it takes for the republic to win, even if it meant dealing with you, his nemesis.

chapter summary

your mission to secure umbara has failed. your master, count dooku would not have asked of anyone but you to deliver success. but as you stand amongst the pile of bodies of umbaran soldiers, the horror of your failure washes over you. and in the hopelessness of events, a jedi appears amidst the ashes of your city. one that did not hesitate to kill the jedi general krell despite his jedi order's honor.

tags : enemies-to-lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, mystery, espionage.

warnings : mentions of ptsd, mentions of abuse, war, mentions of a panic attack.

notes: centers around the same time of the clone wars season 4 episode 15

also, thank you all lovely people who have supported my first anakin fic here 😭, i'm very grateful for every interaction! so thank you for taking interest in this other thingy i have in the works. so without further ado, i hope you like it ! 🪽

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated !

Your plan has failed.

You stood over the tower overlooking the ashes left in the Umbaran capital city. The Republic has won. Your plan failed.

Your breath becomes uneven, the terror lodging in your throat as the consequence of this failure starts to dawn.

Your master, Count Dooku, will not take this failure lightly. Because he swore that if you provide anything other than success, then you will be dealt with the price for it. And now you stand in horror at the sight: the smoke of what was supposed to be your defense taunted you of your imminent future.

Umbara was a crucial route to supply the Confederacy of Independent Systems. A recent attack by the Republic has made Count Dooku send you, his second. Many systems have been starving from the tight supply lines that the Alliance still held and losing Umbara would send millions into more famine.

Your hand twitches. A reaction that fails to conceal your trauma. Your body, already bracing itself for the phantom pain that was yet to be inflicted.

You blink.

Even from atop this tower, you could make out the scattered Umbaran soldiers that lay lifeless, covered in their own blood. You try to fight the guilt pushing up your heart, remembering that Umbaran people have volunteered to defend their land when you insisted that droids are more expendable than lives.

The mission was simple; to defend. Count Dooku wouldn't have asked anyone but you. You were the only one he trusted to deliver success, his second, his apprentice.

He had taken you in when Republic forces made the sky fall on your home planet of Hapes. Your resentment for the Republic began there: from witnessing your home being burned down. Then, Dooku taught you of the Republic's hypocrisy. How they are so deluded by their righteousness that they can excuse leading with violence and bloodshed in the name of maintaining peace.

He taught you how to defend yourself. He was the one that made you realize that the Republic is caters only to the people above ground. Even the capital planet of Coruscant serves as a cruel reminder of how the Republic treats the undergrounds.

Dooku took you in. And you feel indebted to his teachings. Under his care, you became familiar with his unrelenting methods. Which meant leading with ruthless, sometimes. 'What matters is the intention' He used to say. He told you that only a few can wield a saber and fight with the right intention. It made sense, then. Someone has to fight for those who cannot. And you quickly learnt that all of it would be justified because what you sacrificed yourself for was to serve a bigger purpose.

It didn't really erase the discomfort when your Master, the source of your fire, be so sardonic when winning a fight. And you still find yourself holding your breath, sometimes, when you have to watch him make decisions you wouldn't really find yourself agreeing to.

But, this was a war and he was doing it for the Alliance. You had to adapt. Dooku was once a Jedi, so he had to have known something you didn't. Saw something you didn't understand fully. He told you how the Jedi Council had lost their way when they got involved in politics. Your younger mind was more malleable in believing everything your master said. He told you many things...

Once he recognized your ability to channel the force, He handed you a lightsaber and directed you at the right targets, making you his most effective weapon.

You allowed it all because it was for the cause...

And Dooku was fierce in teaching you the price of failure. 'Many will suffer for your incompetence' he used to say before striking you down with his power, making you writhe in pain that felt like being on the brink of death but never having the release.

It was to teach you a lesson, you once believed...

Your faith has crippled since then.

Your heart was telling you it was wrong. A Master should never have to go to such extreme methods to teach you a lesson. But then again, how else can he express the severity of the consequences of your actions? There are so many people that you have allowed to get hurt. You deserve an equal measure of pain.

You have grown to know so many Allied leaders, like Mina Bonteri, who only ever swore allegiance to the cause in hopes of salvation of their people. They weren't evil. They only ever demanded a change in the Republic, and now they are branded as Seperatists.

That was what kept you from leaving. Because you have learnt that the Republic and the Alliance were two sides of the same coin; just as corrupt, just as cruel. The war will rage on until one succeeds the other. And either side seems to have been in the war enough to realize the blood being spilled. Somebody just have to do something so it all ends. You just aren't sure if you can manage that yet. Because now as you stand over the grave of the people you failed to defend, you realize that you aren't anywhere ready. People, not droids. People that fought to the end, believing in something they were willing to die for. And soon, you will have to face your Master's disappointment.

You didn't know what felt heavier.

A commando droid appears from behind. "A call from Count Dooku, General" It opens up its hand to reveal the holocommunication device. Your blood runs cold. You feel your heart thump and thwack so rapidly, you thought it was impossible it isn't bursting out of your chest. You swallowed your fear, knowing you can't delay this call. You placed the holocommunicator down and pressed it.

Count Dooku appears in front of you and you straightened your back, masking your expression. You can feel his gaze burn on your skin as he takes a moment to apprehend you. You sense his frustration despite the distance. Your fingers twitches involuntarily.

"Have I fallen short to remind you the consequence if you'd lose Umbara, my student?" His voice remained in that unnerving monotonous tone you despised.

"No, Master." You answered, your nails digging through the skin of your palms.

Dooku doesn't blink; you grow horrified. Be angry, be disappointed, show me something, anything. His composed expression was much more terrifying.

"And you thought it more important to leave the task to the Jedi General Krell?" Dooku says through gritted teeth.

"I had to find a way to reduce our losses," You defend your actions. Conspiring with General Krell had been your idea. The rogue Jedi had seemed like the most efficient way to poison the enemy. Having someone crippling the system from the inside had proved itself effective for you then. At the beginning, General Krell had met his end of the deal. You managed to tip the scales of battle, enough to let Umbaran soldiers recuperate before engaging in another battle.

"Krell is dead. Your tactic is comprimised." Dooku announces.

You felt your heart skip a beat.

Somehow, you have always believed the Jedi would never sacrifice their honor in exchange for a win. When Krell went missing, you thought maybe they only had him captured, waiting for a jurisdiction by their holy Republic. Exsanguining him sounded extreme. Perhaps having a member of the Jedi turn against them made the Council make an example out of him.

"You have failed me for the last time."

Your eyes widens at the finality of your Master's words. Before you could protest, you felt the force constrict around your throat, lifting you off the ground and cutting the air from your lungs.

"Kill her." Dooku orders the commando droid. And you felt your heart sink.  The holocommunication dies. And you slump to the floor.

Adrenaline surges through you, you draw up your lightsaber, distraught, shocked, as the betrayal seeps. You swing your weapon through the commando droid and it falls down your feet. Your master... ordered for your death. Once you no longer served purpose to him, he abandoned you.

He wouldn't even do it himself.

You started panting, and you held on to the control board to support your weight— tears were flooding your vision. Your knees buckles and you stumble backwards. Your body, it betrays— it trembles, it becomes paralyzed by the fear. Your mind is no longer in control, no matter how much you will for the hyperventilation to stop.

Then you hear the elevator click. You turn to your heel and find the Jedi, Anakin Skywalker standing with his lightsaber drawn. Krell is dead. Anakin Skywalker was here. You put two and two together. It was not the first time you encountered the General, he always led with his men at the frontlines. And he'd always find a way to you.

You'd meet his agile attacks to stand your ground. Despite the short amount of time, Dooku was rigorous in training you. And it paid off when you'd barely escape Anakin Skywalker. You heard the Jedi think it was dishonorable to flee from a fight, but you knew you'd serve your cause better alive than dead.

He probably ordered Krell's death. Which would be forbidden for his Jedi Code. And before you could wrap around the thought,  he was already stepping forward. Moving as if demanding your attention. If he is able to throw away his honor, then he's here to kill you too.

His eyes bore into yours— he looked like he was sizing you up. "Umbara is under the Republic's protection now, you've no choice but to surrender, Wraith" Anakin calls you by the title conducted to you by your enemies, flicking his chin to move hair away from his sight.

The Wraith. The shadow. Always lurking, but never significant enough to be acknowledged as the actual threat. The corner of his lips curled into a cajoling grin "Or run away, I seem to recall you seem to excel in that"

Your breaths leave vapor as your felt your grief transform into something more ravenous. And without hesitating, you charged forward. Anakin instinctively blocks your offense, his expression of bickering quickly replaced by seriousness. This... this was familiar. You swung relentlessly, and full of weight. Skywalker receives your attacks and finds his way around it.

The initial adrenaline depleted after Skywalker received and received, your muscles atrophy, it was breaking dawn and you haven't had a moment of sleep. Then, in a moment you were recovering from the sloppy emotion-drawn attack, He had deflected, taking offense with forceful strikes and proximity. You struggle to regain footing. The fact that he had been using his size didn't help you. Because you relied on your agility, not endurance.

In a swift movement, Anakin fiends a strike and uses his knuckle to bend your wrist, making you lose your lightsaber to the ground. You look up to the Jedi in disbelief. His torso was pressing on your chest as held up both your wrists over your head with his bionic hand. Fierce and unyielding.

His chest rises and falls, and the ghost of his breath warmed the skin on your forehead.

"It's over." He says, his grip tightening.

You saw the faint glisten of triumph in his eyes before he steps backward and clasps your wrists behind your back and cuffing them.

You had thought your Master's betrayal could be the worst thing you could face. But now, captured by this Jedi, you knew a lifetime rotting in Coruscant is... unimaginable.

Your mind caved in.

Somehow, death seemed like kindness now.

© to @cafekitsune for the borders !