angie ⋆⁺₊⋆

angie's masterlist ★

✎ CURRENTLY WRITING… call of the sea

came back from the dead to express my thoughts on fighter!reader and coach!price who takes you under his wing to teach you the ins and outs of the ring. hours upon hours are spent with you and him everyday, your skill put to the test as you put ruthless work into climbing your way to the top.

it was natural, of course, for the two of you to build a bond. he was your rock to hold you down through trial and error, and you were his inspiration in returning to a sport he swore he’d leave behind in the past.

trainings turned into occasional drinks and meals shared. drinks turned into seeking solace in each other’s hearts and bodies in the haven of your bed.

there was a reason people always said to never get too close — you’d grow attached. and when you took an illegal blow to the head in the middle of the ring, knocking you clean to the floor with a ringing in your ears and a metallic filth flooding your mouth, all price could think about was how it was his fault you faltered.

your head wasn’t in the game. you couldn’t focus when in the crevices of your mind, he was creeping in, invading your senses. the empire you had begun to build with the helpful hands of his own that were now stained with your blood had fallen apart because attraction got in the way. love.

hi friends! posting this from my work bathroom rn lolol but just a lil update since i see your asks (that i can’t get to yet, srry) but i’m okay!

i plan on coming back very soon. sorry for the holdup. i’m going to ohio this week then after i’m back i’ll kick my shit in gear and get it together i promise.

as for an update on my car, yes i found the mutant that keyed my car, and yes i pressed charges (deserved i fear) though my car is still sadly messed up LMAO oh well

i was pretty fucked mentally for the past few weeks however its the holidays and almost a new year so fuck being sad, i’m coming back soon and i miss y’all. thanks for still supporting me from the dead, i love you. see you soon <333

life update pt 530

won’t be on for a couple of days due to very unfortunate circumstances—the circumstances being my jealous ex who found out my new apartment address and decided to key the hell out of my car and ruin it LMAOOOO so if y’all were expecting a new chapter this week, my apologies 😭 will return when i gain my sanity back

CALL OF THE SEA / PART TWENTY

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

There was a strange sensation deep within your core when you began to gain consciousness. A lingering feeling, something that tugged you in an undiscoverable direction. It felt like a string, pulling at you, luring you to someplace unknown when you couldn’t begin the venture to discover it.

It nagged at you in your sleep and only grew more bothersome when you woke.

Your surroundings were unfamiliar when you opened your eyes. The room you were in was small. The walls appeared to be made out of old wood that had seen better days, the telltale sign of withering as if rain had been its slow destroyer.

A candle-lit lantern sat beside you on a table, flickering daunting shadows along the walls. Besides that, a messy desk was filled with scattered pages, scribbled with words you couldn’t decipher. Perched along the wall on the desk, a collection of various jars and glasses sat, each filled with contents you couldn’t recognize.

It was dim and cold, only a furry pelt covering you from the hips down while your arms rose with goosebumps from the lingering chill in the room. The cot you laid on was far from comfortable, though the only thing it caused was an ache in your back that pinched when you moved.

The more you observed your surroundings, the more it began to look eerily similar to your old room back in your village. The strange jars, the unkempt work on the desk—it all felt so familiar, as if you had teleported back to your room in a dream.

apologies for once again not being around

lil update as i was suffering from a 103 fever late sunday night that lasted until tuesday morning, ended up in the hospital bc of the dehydration i had from it, now i no longer have a fever but i’ve completely lost my voice and am congested as a mf

i’ll get to asks when i can 😭 a girly’s been having the worst luck in history the past few weeks and i was a zombie for the past three days but i see the asks about cots and cod in general

on the bright side i’ve slept for 12 hours every night because of nyquil so for those who keep telling me i need to rest, i did 💀

love uuuu

CALL OF THE SEA / PART NINETEEN

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Price kept his promise when the time came, the next morning shifting to evening, the sun resting along the horizon. You’d spent the better majority sleeping off the pain, unable to stay awake for long while the parasite ate away at you from the inside and out.

Waking to a booming ‘Land ho!’ was the relief you needed to relax properly, the potential of you receiving urgent attention easing your worries momentarily.

You hadn’t had a proper moment alone, always waking to another man in the room watching over you, appearing just as tired as you. Gaz was often the one who took over, or in his place it was Soap. The Captain was making haste in steering to landfall in order to guarantee your spot in healing. He was wasting no time, keeping all hands on deck to make it happen.

You weren’t expecting Ghost, however, when you opened your eyes. He was lounged in Price’s chair at his desk lazily, eyes blinking sleepily at the floor, his fist on his cheek. He looked oddly comfortable, sat at ease rather than a man who seemed to always have a target on his back.

cots chapter nineteen postponed to tomorrow

i don’t really have an excuse this time tbh

i just wanna watch arcane 😭

still love u tho

You hated TF141. They were your rival band—born to be enemies, forced into an endless feud. They were arrogant, loud, and always took all the time slots for practice rooms in a petty move against your own band. It was a rivalry that sprouted years ago and had stuck ever since.

You hated them. They hated your band just as much. So why couldn’t you stop fucking their drummer?

You don’t even remember how it began, but you knew it stemmed from a moment of pure, unadulterated hatred. A fit of rage on your end when you discovered one of your amps mysteriously ruined, wrecking the competition for you and causing a loss. You hadn’t an idea who had done it at the time, but you knew it had to be one of the little mutants from TF141.

Ghost had been the first one in your sight, the unlucky bastard who had to hear your outraged tangent about how your band should’ve won, the entire thing was rigged. Granted, he didn’t care, only pitching an argument back on how his band won fair and square and yours didn’t have a chance at winning anyway.

You don’t exactly recall how that caused you to end up trapped beneath him on a lousy couch in a backstage room with his hand wrapped around your throat and your back arching with his hips smashing against your ass, but that was besides the point.

The point was that you were becoming shamefully addicted and no matter how much your hatred for him bubbled with every competition or battle, you always ended up sprawled out on his bedsheets, or letting him into your apartment when he called in the middle of the night.

Every time you tried ending it, telling him you despised him and how much being with him made you sick, he’d snort out an arrogant laugh and puff on that stupid cigarette of his, muttering, “I’ll believe it when I see it, sweetheart.”

It was a never ending cycle and you couldn’t break out of it. It was starting to interfere with your work, spending the nights that you weren’t stuffed full of him writing angry lyrics for new songs to express yourself in the only way you knew how. Practices became sloppy, your work becoming more difficult by the day.

He was to blame for all of it. It made you hate him more. Yet you couldn’t stop. It was the drug your veins needed to pump blood and keep you alive.

Just when you’d find yourself fed up, wanting to break the addiction and telling yourself this time would be different, he’d give you that heated look from beneath his mask while his hands slammed against his drums upon stage, as if saying that performance was for you.

You fell back into the trap every time. Every loss felt doubled, and every win felt like charity. You didn’t care anymore. You just knew you needed your fix and he’d be there waiting with the syringe.