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helpimhyperfixating · 2 months ago

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I am very proud of this one so figured I’d reblog here

Mutiny - Captain! John Price | Chapter 1

Captain John Price is an officer in the king’s navy, weathered and ready for everything. Pirates, storms, the unending banter of his crew. But when a strange order comes through that splits him from said crew, things take a turn for the worse.

CW: Angst, minor character death, attempts of murder, drowning, coups/mutiny, all the ye olden days pirate violence, eventual Price x reader (but first 3 chapters of the boys being piratey >:3 ), for now this chapter can be standalone

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Word Count: 2425

Water softly rippled against the hull of the boat, a light sheet of rain wetting the deck and causing decreased visibility – even in the already dark night.

All across the ship, small lanterns were lit for those in the crew who were still awake – though most would usually take shelter under the overhangs or sails to avoid getting soaked to the bone.

Amidst the rain, to the back of the ship, Captain John Price slept.

An officer in the king’s navy, he’d sailed the seas for many years; aware of storms, treacherous waters, pirates and much more. With experience, he led his crew aboard the SAS Bravo; his pride and joy.

He knew everything going on on the sea. From sailing, to navigating, to dangers.

Yet when it came to dangers, the one problem there was, always persisted. A lot of them came out of nowhere.

Eyes shooting open, Price scared awake as from the darkness, hands grabbed him. Curling around his wrists, pushing down onto his shoulders, knees and stomach, he barely had a moment to breathe in.

Going to shout, he couldn’t as a rag smelling and tasting of sea salt was forced into his mouth, catching his tongue and forcing it back as around three men dragged him out of bed.

Struggling, he bucked and lashed, his eyes frantic and confused, muffled grunts the only sound he could make as he was shoved to his stomach, held down while his arms were pulled back before painfully being tied with a rope.

Breathing heavily through his nose, his face shoved to the wooden floor of his cabin, he looked back, seeing a single man step up while holding a lantern.

Phillip Graves, his first mate.

The man held a smug smile as he leaned down, Price’s chest heaving as he struggled, biting down on the rag as it was now tied behind his head in a tight knot, causing the fabric to painfully dig into the corners of his mouth.

“Evening, captain.” Graves said, bringing the lantern close and briefly blinding the brunet on the floor.

Squinting his eyes, a lock of hair fell across Price’s brow as he moved away from the light in his face. When the lantern was pulled back a bit, his angry gaze fell on the man leaned over him. The captain wanted to yell and curse, demand what was going on; but he knew it was foolish. Huffing out a breath, he shifted on the wooden floor, trying to sit up but before he could, a hand was placed on his back to keep him down as one of his arms was painfully twisted up.

Moaning in pain, his eyes squeezed shut as one of the men holding him down nearly broke his arm.

“Enough.” Graves ordered and his arm was let go, returning to a normal position where it was tied behind his back. “Get him up.”

Panting, Price felt two men grab him under his armpits, hoisting him to his feet where he now stood, disoriented, confused as the hands kept hold, keeping him standing.

“You must be wondering what is going on, captain.” Graves hummed, hanging the lantern up on a hook connected to the ceiling, casting a general light around the room.

The blond took Price in, the usually well composed captain now standing in mere loose pants and a white cotton shirt, feet bare and hair unkempt.

As Price glared back, he knew Graves’ question was bullshit. The first mate knew what was going on and so did Price, even if he deep down hoped he was so, so wrong, that this was merely a dumb joke his crew was playing.

But that wasn’t the case. “You see, we’ve all collectively come to the conclusion that you’re not leading well, captain. Or- John, I should say.”

Outraged, Price tried to lunge at the blond, kept back by those holding him by the arms as he instead got kicked in the lower back from a third man standing behind him, making him grunt in pain and nearly topple forward, had it not been for the men holding him up.

“Now, now. Calm yourself.” Graves tutted before motioning his head.

Before Price knew it, he was being dragged out of his cabin and onto the deck of the ship.

The steady drizzle that had started in the late afternoon was still ongoing and Price squinted his eyes upon being hit with the sheet of rain, a shiver passing through him.

But as he properly opened his eyes after getting used to the rain a few seconds later, they widened as a violent horror spiralled in his gut, clenching in anxiety.

All across the deck, lay bodies.

Griggs, Vasquez, even Yuri. Just laying there, bleeding into the deck as it got washed away by the rain.

And to the right, lay Gary Sanderson, his helmsman. A sword remained stuck in the man’s chest as he lay splayed over the stairs leading up to the ship’s wheel, his eyes unblinking up at the sky.

“Oh, we meant to clean up.” Graves hummed, evidently disingenuous and Price broke.

Enraged, he kicked the kneecap of the man to his left, making him cry in pain and collapse as it dislocated. Yet before the man had even crumpled, Price headbutted the one to his right, causing him to let go and fall back. Without a second to spare, the dishonoured captain charged shoulder first into Graves.

Slamming into the deck together, Price just yelled from behind his gag, intent on ripping the man to shreds with his teeth. Yet a second later, several hands grabbed him from behind and lifted him up, kicking and cursing as he was dragged off of the first mate.

Without a say, he got punched across the face before he was forced to his knees, rendering his legs useless as the back of his head was grabbed and pulled back, rain flooding onto his face, making breathing harder thanks to the gag.

Grunting in frustration, Graves got up, angry, annoyed and in pain as he clutched his midriff, a satisfaction pouring through Price as he realised he had cracked some ribs in the man.

“You can’t let anything go easy, huh?” The blond gritted out, standing up straight before making a ‘go’ motion with his hand.

Instantly, Price got dragged across the deck.

Panting, he was trying to get a grip with his feet but it was futile, his bare feet just slipping on the wet wood as he was brought over to the side railing before being flung to the right;

Onto the plank.

Shoved on from behind, the edges were close and Price grunted as he shifted to avoid the sides of the plank. The hands retreated and with trouble, the captain got to his knees, having to use his head to sit up.

Glancing back, he saw his own crew gathered around in a circle, Graves in the middle, holding a sword pointed at him.

“In case you didn’t realise it yet, this is a mutiny, Captain Price. We’re revoking your status on this ship and within the king’s navy. You will be stripped of all honour and are hereby sentenced to walk the plank.” He spoke calmly, stepping up to the edge, the sword gleaming as far off, lightning lit up the sky, reflecting on the metal.

Incredulous by everything going on, Price sat there, glancing down the plank at the raging sea.

What had been a gentle rippling of water against the boat’s hull was now a dangerous swishing of waves, white foam swirling with every violent movement of water, the rain going from a drizzle to a storm.

“Up, Price.” Graves ordered and Price looked back at him, his chest heaving. Carefully, he shifted on the plank until he was facing the sea and shifted from his knees up, getting to his feet while his hands remained tied behind his back.

Disgraced, the captain looked back. The crew gathered around Graves had always been those less loyal. The ones more money inclined than a part of the ship. And for that, those that actually were now lay lifeless on the deck.

A mutiny not only to Price himself, but to the integrity of all that he stood for within a crew.

“Walk.”

Glancing down at his first mate, Price then turned to the sea. There was nothing he could do.

Either he died here, on the sword like a spit roasted pig, or he jumped, unable to swim properly with his hands tied. Big chance he would be thrown back into the hull of the ship, cracking bones or his skull before he even had a chance to kick his legs.

Yet even with that prospect, Price knew there was only one way to go. He refused to die at the hands of a traitorous snake like Graves. A man who didn’t even give him the right of last words, simply keeping him gagged and bound as he sent him to a watery death.

No, he’d choose the mercy of the sea he spent two thirds of his life traversing.

With careful steps, he walked to the edge of the plank, looking out at the stormy sea he’d called home for two decades.

Far in the distance, the thunderstorm brewed, getting closer with every gust of wind that ruffled through his clothes and hair. The rain was cold as it fell onto his face in thick droplets, a sensation he welcomed, his eyes dulling as the unease in his stomach swirled.

This was it.

The men loyal to him died quietly and without him even noticing. He was asleep while they were slaughtered like animals.

So maybe it was fitting for him to get a slow, painful death like drowning. He couldn’t call himself their captain anymore, not when he failed in such a way.

Sighing softly through his nose, Price closed his eyes briefly, vaguely hearing Graves and his crew mocking him, telling him to hurry up, to jump already. But the brunet instead focused on the sound of the waves, of the rain hitting the deck, memories of his first time hearing them flashing through him.

Yes. If he were ever to go, the sea was his only choice.

Opening his eyes again, Price stepped back a few paces, biting down on the gag tying his tongue still before abruptly, he ran down the plank and launched himself off.

Graves and the crew jeered and whooped as they watched their captain disappear into the dark blue of the night’s stormy sea.

Hitting the water, a cold shock overcame Price that he was ready for, keeping his breath in his lungs as with all his might, he kicked his feet.

He’d managed to avoid getting dragged and slammed into the ship, but as he tried to swim, his eyes stinging from the salt, the sea dragged him under.

Without his arms, he couldn’t move enough water to get his body moving. Had they been tied in front of him, he could have tried, but behind his back they only worked to catch the current and drag him along.

Still, Price fought.

The muscles in his legs burned as he struggled against the current, seeing the stormy waves crash above on the water’s surface. He was so close, but so far.

Swishing his legs, he felt himself go up, yet right then, he suppressed a gasp, his air running thin as the violent need to breathe crept into his very being.

Salt water stained his tongue thanks to the rag tied around his face, his nose feeling congested as his lungs burned. Everything was too much. The muffled roaring of the waves, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, the pain in his body, the cold seeping into his bones, the air escaping his nose in small bubbles that he just couldn’t manage to keep in.

Yet still, he kicked his legs out, face aimed up to the surface, trying desperately to get up. Squeezing all his energy and strength into his legs, he ducked under a wave before rapidly swishing his feet.

Bursting through the surface, he gasped for breath, eyes wide and taking in flecks of water through the gag, causing him to switch to breathing through his nose to avoid coughing. Yet before he properly could, another wave lifted him before crashing back down.

The world spun as Price felt himself get flung around in the water; at the sea’s mercy, like he wanted.

Yet he had vainly hoped it wouldn’t be like this.

Up and down no longer had meaning, his ears unable to distinguish the crashing of waves on the surface with the bubbling of the current.

Exhausted, he once more kicked his legs, not having been able to get enough air in with his brief surfacing, leaving him once again struggling for oxygen. His chest heaved in stutters, desperate to take a breath that he wouldn’t allow himself as he slowly began to drown.

If only he could, he’d-!

He’d…

What would he? Price didn’t know anymore. He got what he wanted, didn’t he? He reached the surface. He got that breath. Looking down, Price couldn’t see anything. The dark ocean loomed below, but it also loomed above and to the sides. He was just floating, no- sinking. An endless nothing where it would just be so much easier to just give in.

His legs didn’t work anymore, exhausted as slowly, the air escaped his lungs, bubbles ripping out from his mouth and up to the surface.

He could just rest and join his crew.

Yes…

Price felt his body give in as he watched his own oxygen rise to the surface, no longer able to fight it.

After a moment, his chest moved up as he sucked in a breath, water rushing past his throat and into his lungs.

It hurt, a lot.

More than it did as a kid when he accidentally stayed under too long. He recalled the sensation of his father yanking him out of the water, remembering the burn of coughing it up. Yet all of that hurt less than it did now as he felt every inch of his lungs fill with the burning salt.

But even that was only temporary as slowly, everything began to turn hazy and black, leaving him with nothing.

Nothing but the feeling of a hand grabbing the back of his shirt’s collar and pulling right as he slipped away.

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#just in case someone is curious about my other ventures :33 #hih reblog

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