Y/N was a fierce and talented operative, handpicked by Captain Price himself to join Task Force 141. She had a reputation for being fearless and cunning, and over the months, she had earned the respect of every member of the elite unit. But what Y/N didn’t know was that she had also captured the heart of the grizzled captain.
Price had always been a man of few words, preferring to show his loyalty through actions rather than sentiment. But there was something about Y/N—her determination, her fire—that broke down the walls he had spent years building around himself. He found himself watching her during missions, his eyes following her every move, his protective instincts kicking in when things got too close for comfort. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but he was falling for her.
The mission that would change everything began like any other—a strike on a chemical weapons facility deep in enemy territory. The objective was to secure intel that could lead them to Makarov. Y/N was part of the lead team with Price, Soap, and Ghost, moving in silently under the cover of night.
As they infiltrated the facility, everything seemed to be going according to plan—until it wasn’t. An explosion rocked the building, throwing the team off balance. It was an ambush, and they were caught in the crossfire. Y/N, moving to cover Soap’s flank, was suddenly thrown off her feet by the blast of a grenade that went off nearby.
“Y/N!” Price’s voice boomed over the comms as he saw her collapse.
She was hurt—badly. Blood seeped from a gash on her side, and her breathing came out in ragged gasps. Despite the pain, she struggled to get back on her feet, gripping her rifle with trembling hands.
“Stay down, Y/N!” Price barked, his tone more desperate than commanding.
But she wasn’t one to back down easily. “I’m fine, Captain,” she rasped, trying to push herself up again. “Just a scratch.”
Ignoring his own instincts to stay behind cover, Price rushed to her side, his heart pounding louder than the gunfire around them. He grabbed her, his hand pressing against the wound to stem the bleeding as he dragged her behind the cover of a concrete pillar.
“You’re not fine, damn it!” he snapped, his voice a mix of anger and something else she couldn’t quite place—fear.
Price’s usually calm, composed expression was gone, replaced by a look of panic that was unfamiliar to Y/N. She had seen him stand firm against impossible odds, had watched him keep his cool in the face of death more times than she could count, but this was different. His hands, stained with her blood, shook as he reached for the medical supplies in his kit.
“I’m not losing you,” he muttered under his breath as he worked to bandage her wound.
Y/N’s vision blurred slightly as the pain intensified, but she heard him. There was a rawness in his voice that she hadn’t heard before. “Price… I’m okay,” she whispered, her hand reaching out to grasp his arm. She could feel the tension in his muscles, could see the way his eyes darted back and forth between her wound and the battlefield.
“You’re not okay,” he replied, his voice softening. “And I need you to be.”
The firefight raged on, but for those few moments, it was as though the world around them had disappeared. Price’s focus was entirely on her, the rest of the team’s status barely registering in his mind. It wasn’t until Ghost’s voice crackled over the radio, urgently calling for support, that Price tore his gaze away from Y/N.
“Stay here,” he ordered her, his voice gruff but laced with worry. “I’m coming back for you.”
Before she could argue, he was already moving, leading the counterattack with the fury of a man possessed. The enemy forces didn’t stand a chance; Price tore through them with a relentless determination, driving them back until the last of the ambush was crushed.
When the dust settled, Price returned to where he had left Y/N, his heart pounding with dread. But she was still there, pale and weak, but alive. He dropped to his knees beside her, his breath coming out in heavy sighs of relief.
“About time you got back,” Y/N managed to joke, though her voice was faint.
He shook his head, a small, strained smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Always the stubborn one,” he said. He slipped his arms under her, lifting her up as gently as he could. She leaned into him, her strength almost gone. “We’re getting you out of here.”
As the extraction helicopter arrived, Price didn’t let go of her hand even for a second. His grip tightened every time her eyes fluttered closed, his voice steady as he kept talking to her, urging her to stay awake. When they finally reached the base, he stayed by her side while the medics worked, his usually stoic demeanor gone.
It was only when she was stabilized and resting in the infirmary that Price allowed himself to breathe. He sat beside her bed, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and relief. He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her skin.
“You scared the hell out of me today,” he whispered. For the first time, the weight of what he felt for her settled over him like a revelation.
As if hearing his voice, Y/N stirred, her eyes opening just enough to see him sitting there. “You know… you’re not supposed to worry about me, Captain,” she murmured.
Price leaned closer, his hand still resting on hers. “It’s John,” he said softly. “And I’ll worry about you as much as I damn well please.”
A tired smile touched her lips. “I think I like it better that way.”
He chuckled quietly, the sound filled with relief and a hint of something deeper—something he knew he would have to confront sooner or later. For now, all that mattered was that she was alive, and he wasn’t about to let her go.
And so, a new chapter began for the two of them, one where Price would no longer hide the feelings that had long been buried beneath his duty. He was determined to be there for her, not just as her captain, but as the man who would always have her back, no matter the cost.
